Chapters 1-5

Chapter 1

My lawyer told me I shouldn’t talk to you, but this is important. You need to know I didn’t do anything wrong. Illegal, maybe, and I’ll accept my fate. But it was the right thing to do.

Let me explain.

Everything started on July 1, 2388. I woke up as I always did: at 7:35a.m. precisely, at which time I got out of bed, measured 23 grams of coffee, and made an espresso. I foamed 150ml of milk, added it to the coffee, and sat at my LCARS terminal to read the news while enjoying my drink.

It had been ten years since Voyager had returned to Earth from the delta quadrant, and the now famous former crew was hosting a celebration at Starfleet Academy in San Francisco, an event open to the public but only for the first 10,000 who showed up. The event had been publicized for a long time and, since I wasn’t really interested in the Voyager story, I decided to stay home (I was living in Kuala Lumpur at the time) to avoid the crowds.

But the headlines were all about the event, with story after story about Janeway’s latest Borg training project as admiral and Chakotay’s ecological work in the Amazon. I ignored the news, until I saw a headline about the event that caught my attention despite my disdain for these celebrities (and celebrity in general).

SELECTED LOGS FROM VOYAGER PUBLISHED

That got my attention, simply because I thought something about the legal systems in the delta quadrant would be there. I was six months away from finishing my law degree with a specialty in intergalactic law and diplomacy. Reading about the laws of distant civilizations would at the very least be interesting, if not even useful for my career.

So I called up the Voyager logs, which had been published as a book titled Missives from the Delta Quadrant.

I didn’t get a chance to read much, because I almost immediately got a call. It was Trevor.

“Jason?” he asked on the call as his face showed up on my screen. At the prompt, I turned off the video.

“I am not going to video call you this early in the morning,” I said mildly, with hopefully a touch of bemusement in my voice. “Weird of you to call this early.”

“Yeah, well, I knew you wouldn’t be going to the Academy today, so I wanted to see what you’re up to today.”

“No plans, really,” I said. “Maybe go for a walk in London, grab some food and do a bit of reading.”

Trevor laughed. “So basically what you do every Saturday, but on a Friday.”

I blushed a bit--good thing the video was off. “Am I that boring?”

“Nah,” he said, “it’s not boring to have a routine. You’ve just got one, and that’s great. Wish I had one.”

I knew that meant he wanted me to probe.

“Okay, tell me. What happened last night?”

He laughed. “So Rick and I went to a nightclub in Barbados. Nothing really was on the agenda, just get a couple of drinks and maybe smoke some snakeleaf. But when we got there we saw four girls at the bar, and, man, they were perfect. Two Vulcans and two humans, and the vulcans were--”

“No need, I know what you’re going to say. So I guess you slept with one of them?”

Another laugh. “If I slept with one of them I wouldn’t be calling you to brag about it. I slept with three of them.”

I was honestly puzzled, and my better nature knew not to pry with Trevor’s shenanigans. Ever since we were in high school, he was always on the prowl for casual sex. He had once told me he hoped to have sex with at least one of every alien in the Federation; and, to be honest, he’s probably halfway there by now.

“Congratulations,” I said dryly, knowing I couldn’t tip my hand too soon, or he just wouldn’t answer me and make this conversation last longer than I wanted it to. Which, to be honest, it already had. “So were they in Pon Farr?”

“Nope, just looking to ‘broaden our cultural horizons’ as T’Plek said,” Trevor replied. “I’ve been with Vulcans before, but this...you should’ve seen it.”

“Even if you have a video, I won’t,” I said. “Anyway, look, I gotta go.”

“No, wait!” Trevor exclaimed. “I’m not just calling to brag about getting laid, but it is pretty damn cool, you gotta ad--okay, I can tell you’re getting annoyed. Look, seriously, I want to talk to you about getting a job.”

Now I was interested in the conversation for real. Trevor and I were the same age: 23, and while I’d always been serious about pursuing a career, Trevor long ago said he wanted an easy life with a small house, his basic transporter credits, and as many evenings out partying as possible. That’s why most of Trevor’s friends weren’t also my friends, although, I must admit, I don’t have too many friends in general. And it’s not that I dislike people. Just not enough time.

“This is the first time I’ve heard you even think about getting a job,” I said. “What’s up?”

“I’m just...bored, I guess,” he said. A common theme, and the statistics bore it out. As I’d learned in my Economics 101 course at the Academy, 80% of humans who state they do not want a career when they graduate high school end up pursuing one within five years. An easy life of partying, socializing, and hanging out gets old. Having a purpose never gets old.

“So you’re finally going to take life seriously,” I said with a genuinely happy smile on my face. I sat back in my chair. “Sure, I can help. Meet in London? Say for lunch?”

“I don’t want to waste my transporter credits, so I’ll take a shuttle. I might not get there until 1. That okay?”

“A bit late for lunch, but sure,” I said. Since I get more transport credits than an ordinary Earth citizen (one of the perks of going to the Academy), I’d still be transporting into England.

Chapter 2

After hitting the gym and doing some volunteer robot maintenance at the desalination plant nearby in KL, I jumped on the transporter and beamed to Oxford Circus. I’ve always been a big fan of England, but not the weather, which is why I moved to Kuala Lumpur when I got into the Academy. My family is all still in New York City, except an aunt of mine who lives in Copernicus City: Lieutenant Sarah, the first in our family to be in Starfleet. I was to be the second.

In July, London is pleasant, with a damp room temperature feel about me and a slight chilly breeze that made me contemplate getting a coat. As I have done every Saturday for the last three years, I walked from Oxford Circus’s transport station along Great Russell Street until I came to Bedford Square. A left, another left through Bedford Square Garden, until finally I came to the Jack Horner, a centuries-old pub currently managed by an Anglophile half-Trill half-human who called himself Simon (I have no idea if that’s his real name, but I doubt it--he grew up on Trill, after all, and still had a Trill accent when he spoke English).

Simon and I had become good friends after I’d been visiting his pub for a few months, and now I was happy to stop by weekly. It was especially delightful that he knew my order: rocket salad with extra balsamic, toad in the hole, pint of bitter.

It was busy that day so I didn’t get a chance to chat with Simon, but he did nod my way when I stepped in as if to say, “don’t worry, Jason, I’ll start your order.” The beer was in front of me maybe three minutes later.

I was early. I’d tried to postpone my arrival, but my schedule was too fixed. I felt a bit out of sorts being here on a Friday instead of a Saturday, but I found that feeling fading as I sipped my beer.

So I opened up the Missives book and started reading. The first entry was from Ensign Kim, describing his experience with the Caretaker and his anger at Janeway at destroying the Caretaker without letting them go home first.

“I understand why she did it,” Kim said in his log. “She protected the Ocampa, and she stayed to make sure the Kazon wouldn’t destroy them after we left. She did the right thing, and she’s a good captain and a good officer.”

“But,” Kim added, “she still left me far from my family and Libby, and part of me may never forgive her.”

Although I was reading the log, you could feel the pain in his voice from the words. The poor guy was stuck 70,000 light years away, and he had a life here. They all did. While I’d never thought much about the Voyager story, quietly annoyed that it was such a beloved topic on Earth, I couldn’t help but begin to feel some sympathy for the crew and a bit of curiosity about their story. Back then they couldn’t know they’d get back in seven years instead of seventy, and the feeling of sadness and isolation must have been horrible.

My salad came. It was 1:03, and still no Trevor. No worries; salads are already cold.

Not only was Kim’s log quite moving, but I was honestly impressed that both he and Janeway signed off on making these public.

“Jason, sup bro,” I heard Trevor say, breaking my attention from the book. We fist bumped as he sat down.

“Have you ordered yet?” I asked.

“Yup, got a whiskey cola and a burger,” he said and, impeccably, his drink arrived just then. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his drink. I sipped, then tucked into my salad. “So what’s up?” I said before taking my first bite.

“I want a job,” he said simply. “The partying is fun--trust me, last night was a ridiculous amount of fun, Vulcans are crazy--like I don’t believe all this logic bullshit, they can get into some freaky--”

“Focus, my friend,” I said bemused. “You want a job.”

“Ah, yeah. I just want something to do with my time, something that matters. I know that sounds kinda cheesy, but I just feel like I should do something of value with my life, since I’m lucky enough to be born on Earth.”

Everyone on Earth is taught from a young age to feel gratitude for being born on Earth at this time in history, and it’s hard not to. With the pandemics and wars and misery of the past, the need to toil for money to survive--the past is a ghastly place. And many parts of the galaxy are just as bad, if not worse, as Earth was four hundred years ago.

Some people didn’t really feel this way, and of course there was a minority of conservatives who thought life on Earth is worse than it used to be. Trevor had never been one to think too much on the topic at all, pretty much just enjoying the ride. So to hear him express the party line all of a sudden surprised me.

“This is coming out of nowhere,” I said. “But I’ll help, sure. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was thinking of getting an apprenticeship and learning a craft.”

“Okay, let’s go from there. What are you really interested in? Besides booze, drugs, and sex.”

He laughed. “Mean. Not wrong. But still mean. Okay, what am I interested in?” He paused, looking into his glass as if trying to pierce through the opaque dark brown liquid with his eyes. “People. I’m interested in people.”

“A lot you could do with that. Counseling, for instance,” I said. “Why not counseling?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice trailing. “Why not counseling?”

Chapter 3

After lunch, Trevor and I walked to the British library together, where we parted ways. There was an exhibition on early printed books I was interested in, and which did not interest Trevor one bit. A couple of hours on my own and I decided to get home for some dinner and some studying--a Friday habit that was best to stick with, even if my Friday midday had been atypical.

That night, lying in bed, I turned to the Missives again. This time I was reading an entry from Tuvok--a long and, as one would expect, logical entry. But it was far from dry:

“Now that I am fully recovered, I am fully aware of my gratitude to Neelix,” Tuvok had said. “Throughout my ordeal, Mr. Neelix nursed me and helped me have experiences that were fitting to my diminished capacity. None of this was ethically required of him. It was not his duty. His perception that I take a dim view of his emotional temperament did not dissuade him from providing his assistance. Despite Neelix neither being a citizen of the Federation nor a member of Starfleet, he demonstrated self-sacrifice, compassion, and a need to help those in need. He is a commendable person, worthy of commendation and respect.”

Missives noted a pause--a long pause--in the log. Then Tuvok said, “I can now say Neelix is a friend.”

He went on. “Of course I have been aware of Neelix’s selfless behavior. In his counseling and protecting of Kes, Neelix showed himself to be committed to the care of those weaker than him. It is therefore no surprise that he would extend that charity to myself when I was weakened. I am told that when we were joined that counseling instinct had made us a better teacher, and that is something I have tried to incorporate into my own management tactics over the last four years.”

Now wait a second. Joined? What the hell was that about?

The book’s running commentary on the logs did not clarify that detail, which was quite odd; other offhand references to the drama on Voyager was carefully explained throughout the book. This was not.

That spurned me to keep reading, though. I finished the book that night, and no further explanation came. So I went to sleep.

When I woke up the next day, I remained preoccupied. My own curiosity was becoming a burden. As I measured my 23 grams of coffee and tamped the coffee into the machine, I kept wondering what Tuvok was talking about.

And that’s when I decided to visit the Academy Library.

Chapter 4

While much of the Academy’s collections were available worldwide, most modern records were kept on site for security reasons. So I jumped into a transporter and found myself tasting the salty air of the San Francisco bay. I walked across campus to the main library, sat in front of a terminal, and typed:

Tuvok Voyager records

Tuvok was third in command and chief security officer on a ship with a lot of security issues, so the results were absolutely massive. Fine.

Tuvok and Neelix Voyager records.

Significantly less results, with the top result being the records of the neuroleptic blast that caused Tuvok’s memory loss. The second result merely said:

Tuvix - 49678

I admit I chuckled under my breath when I saw that. It looked like a joke--like someone had just smashed these two people’s names together in a moment of silliness.

When I opened the record, I saw it was no joke.

Stardate 49678

NCC-74656 - Voyager

Location: Delta Quadrant (unnamed planet, identified), aboard ship

Status: Resolved

Security: Secret

Date to Declassification: Stardate 65000

Summary: Unidentified alien orchid from planet [unnamed] sparks transporter accident.

Tuvok and Neelix merged into new single hybrid entity named “Tuvix”.

Conclusion: Tuvix successfully de-merged. Tuvok and Neelix restored.

Discoveries: Xenobiology entry #P-F-1355182531

Medical entry #5233187651

Cartography entries: #221865754855 ; #22186575633

And that was it. Official records from starships are typically short, so nothing looked suspicious--and at the time I wasn’t even thinking anyone had done anything wrong. But I was definitely curious--this Tuvix creature. Was he alive? What was he exactly? Had Tuvok and Neelix been fused together, like conjoined twins from centuries ago? What had happened?

That’s when I knew I had to dig deeper.

My first plan was to contact my friend Jana, an ensign aboard the Starship Kariko. Kariko was fortunately stationed at Proxima Centauri, so a call wouldn’t be hard. I pinged her immediately, and got a four word response: “Busy, will call later.”

She called back in thirty-seven minutes.

“Jason, what’s up?” she said, sounding surprisingly perky. It was 4pm GMT, and since ships follow GMT I’d expect her to sound less energetic.

“You’re sounding good--I guess they aren’t working you too hard,” I said.

She snorted. “Hardly. It’s my day off. We’re still doing bioreclamation experiments around the clock, so there’s plenty to do when I’m on the clock. Anyway, what’s up?”

“I have an odd favor to ask,” I said. “Was anyone on your ship on Voyager?”

“I’m surprised,” Jana said, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought you hated celebrities.”

“I do,” I admitted, “but I’m digging into something. Call it a side project. I just want to ask a few questions--nothing I’m not supposed to know,” I added hastily.

“Well, no one here does, but one of my coworkers used to date Kashimuro, who was on Voyager,” she said. “They broke up pretty amicably, so I could probably get you in touch with him.”

“Perfect!” I said, surprised at the enthusiasm in my voice.

“I can probably get a hold of him now, wait a minute,” Jana said. Then the line went silent for a couple of minutes, after which she returned. “Jason, meet Sarkon.”

“Hello,” I said timidly. “How are you?”

“Great, thanks,” Sarkon replied--he had a clear Betazoid accent, but he was speaking in English. “I heard you wanted to talk to Kashimuro?”

“Yes,” I said, grateful that Sarkon had gotten to the point. “He was your boyfriend?”

“He was,” Sarkon said, “We were together for a couple of years--we still stay in touch. What do you want to talk to him about?”

“There’s this thing that happened on Voyager called Tuvix--I shouldn’t go into detail technically, but you can look the record up yourself. Anyway, I just want to ask Kashimuro for a couple of points of clarification, as it relates to a project I’m doing. You see, I’m a senior at the Academy and a few months from graduating, and--”

“No need to explain yourself,” Sarkon replied, although I didn’t know whether he was saying that because he didn’t care for the backstory or because he was reading my mind. Can Betazoids read minds over subspace communication? I was never clear on how that all worked. Anyway, he continued, “Not a problem. I’ll reach out to Kashi and see if he’s willing to talk. I’m sure he will,” Sarkon said.

This was turning out great. “Thanks!” I said, again surprised at how thankful I was feeling. “Take care out there at Proxima,” I added. “Will do.” End of call.

Chapter 5

Fortunately, Kashimuro was on Earth like many of the Voyager crew, and he was as nice as Sarkon had said. A quick database search told me Kashimuro was working on holographic technology at Daystrom Institute in Okinawa, so not only would he be able to contact me soon, but were we in close time zones, making communication even easier.

I hadn’t expected Kashimuro to get back to me that evening, but he did. At a few minutes past 7p.m., after I’d had dinner and was studying, I got the call. He didn’t use video, for which I was grateful.

“Hello, this is Kashimuro Nozawa,” he said in a professional but friendly tone. “I heard you were looking to inquire about something?”

“Yes,” I said, “Thank you for getting back to me, Mr. Nozawa.”

“Oh, call me Kashi,” he said.

“Great, thanks, Kashi,” I replied. “So I’m a law student specializing in intergalactic law at the Academy--I graduate in November and I’m hoping to do work in diplomacy.” I’d thought long and hard about how I could weave my curiosity about Tuvix into my professional background in a plausible way, and it hadn’t been easy. But this was what I’d come up with: “I’ve been doing some research on legal precedents for consent to experimental medical procedures in different cultures, and noted that Neelix had had such a procedure during his time on Voyager, but we know nothing about Talaxian laws on this sort of thing.”

“Ah, you mean when Seven of Nine brought him back to life?”

That caught me off guard. “No,” I said, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. “What’s that?”

“Pretty interesting,” Kashi continued. “He died and was dead for almost a full day, but the Doctor revived him with some Borg tech--nanoprobes, maybe? I don’t really know the details. But that’s not what you’re talking about?”

“No,” I said, “I have to admit that story didn’t come up in my research. I was actually talking about Tuvix.”

There was a long pause. A very long pause. So long, in fact, that I wondered if the connection had been lost. But it hadn’t.

“Oh,” Kashi said in a tone so neutral that it felt anything but. “Well, what would you like to know?”

I admit, I was taken off guard. He obviously felt uncomfortable, but I had no idea why. “So the official record just says Tuvok and Neelix were merged into a hybrid entity called Tuvix--but I don’t really understand what that means. Were they attached to each other? Was Neelix still conscious and able to consent to medical procedures?”

Another long pause, though not as long as the last one.

“That’s not a very easy question to answer,” Kashi said quietly. “I mean, Tuvix was conscious for sure, and I can’t say he consented per se…” his voice trailed off. “You know, maybe I shouldn’t be talking about this--I think it’s a classified matter.”

“It’s secret,” I said, “and as a senior I have secret access. Here, let me send my security clearance confirmation,” I typed as I said it, and I heard the notification on his end. “So I have the necessary clearance.”

Another long pause. Now I felt the need to push the matter--this unease was weird, and there was no way I was going to let Kashi stonewall me.

“If you aren’t comfortable talking to me about it, that’s totally fine,” I said swiftly. “I haven’t informed Professor Hu about this project yet, but I can just get him to contact Admiral Janeway and get all of the details.”

Kashi must have realized not answering me wasn’t going to make this go away, because he came clean. “Tuvix was a person. Like a real, living, breathing person. Imagine Neelix and Tuvok, right, and you just merged them together and got a new person. That was Tuvix. He had Tuvok’s logical mind and Neelix’s enthusiasm and charisma. He was like an entirely new individual.”

And that’s when the fireworks went off in my head. An entirely new individual.

“Did you know him?” I asked.

“Know him? I loved the guy,” Kashi said. “Everyone did. A lot of us even preferred him to Neelix and Tuvok, although we’d never admit it or say it out loud. And a lot of us were upset to see him go.”

“See him go?”

“When Janeway separated Neelix and Tuvok,” Kashi said. “A lot of us were upset about it, I mean the junior staff. The senior staff weren’t so bothered, I guess because they’d been closer to Neelix and Tuvok than we were.” He sighed. “It was really an awful situation for everyone, which is probably why they didn’t talk about it in the anthology of our logs they just published--I don’t know if you saw that.”

“I did,” I said. “But wait a moment. It was a medical procedure, separating the two. Why didn’t the Doctor do it? Or a nurse?”

Another pause--a really long one this time.

“Because Tuvix didn’t consent.”

“What?” I said between gritted teeth, as my jaw had clenched on its own.

“He didn’t want to be split up,” Kashi said, sounding genuinely sad. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but I heard he told the captain ‘I don’t want to die.’ And the Doctor refused to do it because of the Hippocratic oath. So the captain did it.”

“Wait, what?” I said again, stunned. “But if the Doctor refused to do it, surely Janeway knew it was immoral. She was literally forcing a medical--”

“Captain Janeway was a good captain and she is a good person,” Kashi said. “She still messages me sometimes, asking how I’m doing. She even tried to set me up with one of her friend’s daughters,” he said, laughing. “I know not everyone on Voyager liked it, but she did what was right.”

I didn’t want to push the matter; Kashi was a nice guy and challenging him on this sensitive topic would have been unnecessarily rude. And mean. So I didn’t push further.

“Of course,” I said, hopefully in a genuinely neutral tone. “Thank you so much for your time, Kashi. I really appreciate it--it sounds like this event isn’t really appropriate for my research project, but I appreciate your help.”

“Of course, Jason,” he replied. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”