Torres to Voyager, I could use a little help here.
Status?
An ion storm blew out my deflector field.
I've lost helm control and I'm venting plasma from the port nacelle.
We'll modify the tractor pulse.
- Acknowledged. - Fields in place. You're clear to land.
Hold on. This is going to be bumpy.
B'Elanna?
- Are you alive? - You tell me.
- You've got a mild concussion. - Best thing that's happened all day.
I expect you to follow orders.
I told you to return to Voyager, not chase the probe into an ion storm.
I didn't want to lose our only probe.
We only have one B'Elanna. I don't want to lose her.
Understood.
Lanna... I'm glad you made it back in one piece.
- Did you just call me Lanna? - I suppose I did.
- That's what my mother called me. - Then I'm in good company.
Come in.
- Feeling better? - I've felt worse.
I found something you might like, what my ancestors called a monkey wrench.
- It was lodged in the nacelle. - How did it get there?
It looks like you ran into it after your deflector field collapsed.
The big question is, how did it get in this quadrant?
What do you mean?
What?
- It's Klingon. - And it's old. That's about all we know.
The Klingons beat Starfleet to the Delta Quadrant by a few hundred years.
You may be holding the most important archaeological find in Klingon history.
Remind me to plant a flag on behalf of the empire.
The simplest explanation is that the Borg assimilated a bird-of-prey
and blew it out of an airlock on the way home.
Maybe so.
In any case, it makes a nice souvenir.
It bled. It screamed. There's got to be an explanation.
You hit your head harder than you thought?
I didn't. Run a submolecular scan.
There is nothing there.
No fluid or vapour residue.
Irregularities at the atomic level?
It's a hunk of metal.
That sound had nothing to do with this.
Maybe it was a signal from a pulsar.
A pulsar that speaks Klingon?
There probably is some explanation.
But it's 0300 hours. I'm tired.
Let's deal with this in the morning.
Just the daughter of the empire I've been looking for.
Congratulations for finding the artefact.
I ran into it with a shuttle.
Some great discoveries are accidents.
When Sarpek found the Knife of Kirom,
he was searching for his lost targ.
I've been doing research.
Why?
I'm planning a celebration.
I appreciate it, but since I'm the only Klingon on board, there's no point.
Nonsense. This isn't just a testament to Klingon spirit,
it's a piece of the Alpha Quadrant. A symbol of Voyager's home.
It's just as worthy of celebration as some old knife.
The man's got a point.
Besides, I've replicated five barrels of bloodwine.
Festivities begin at 1900 hours.
I almost forgot.
As guest of honour, you can say a few words on behalf of your people.
Sounds like you've got a big day ahead. You should probably get some rest.
- All right. Let's call it a night. - Thank you.
Do not underestimate the power of the mind.
The artefact was a catalyst for your already active imagination.
It served as an unwelcome reminder of your ancestry,
the self-loathing when you look in a mirror and see a Klingon.
- Who mentioned self-loathing? - You despise being Klingon.
It's no secret. What you experienced was a subconscious manifestation
of that hatred.
The blood in your veins, the voices of your ancestors -
all symbols of your Klingon heritage.
And when the blood disappeared,
that was me trying to vaporise that part of myself?
Yes. But the essence of who you are, the artefact itself, remained.
- And the moral of the story is... - Quite simple.
Despite your efforts to become something else, Starfleet or Maquis,
your Klingon nature continues to assert itself.
That's an intriguing theory.
Perhaps we should forego meditation in favour of a different exercise.
Fine by me.
- This should be interesting. - Feel the weight in your hands.
Describe the first thought that enters your mind.
It's a clumsy weapon. Overstated, like everything else Klingon.
You can't see the elegance of its design because of your hatred.
- I don't hate Klingons. - It's a warrior's blade.
Crafted for precision and balance. Observe.
- Is this your idea of therapy? - Listen to you whine like a Ferengi.
- Pahtk! - You're not worthy.
A true Klingon would kill me where I stand.
- What the hell has gotten into you? - This exercise is over.
You are dismissed, Lieutenant, and take your dishonour with you.
And the blood was ankle deep.
And the River Skral ran crimson red.
- I don't see the merit of a drinking song. - It's not about drinking.
It's saluting the noble deeds of our ancestors
and honouring those who fell in battle.
Think Q'apla! Think "Long live the empire!"
- Think again. - OK, I'm overdoing it a bit.
Try to get into the spirit of the occasion.
Very well.
Gagh, anyone?
He said to eat this or he'll force it down the gullet of your corpse.
- No offence. - None taken.
- So this is replicated, right? - Unfortunately.
And how do you get it to move?
I used a kinesthetic agent to give it a little oomph.
Is it just me or has everyone gone "Klingon happy"?
Come on. They're doing this for you.
Well, then, they don't know me very well.
And if you even think of joining in with this nonsense,
I'll rip out your tongue and wear it as a belt.
No, there's not a lot of Klingon in you.
I inherited the forehead and the bad attitude. That's it.
- She would have loved all this. - Your mother?
She was so obsessed with Klingon ritual, myths.
It used to drive my father and me crazy.
Did I ever tell you she put me in a Klingon monastery?
You're kidding?
She pulled me out of school in order to teach me honour and discipline.
Out of the plasma cooker, into the fire.
She prayed to Kahless every day to guide me.
I guess he wasn't listening.
Could I have your attention?
I hate to interrupt festivities, but before I hand over to our resident Klingon,
I'd like to say a few words.
This is a great day for the Klingon Empire.
A day when we honour their ancestors.
Those warriors whose deeds of valour and glory...
Captain!
- Where am I? - Silence.
The dead ask no questions.
Computer, end program.
Let go of me.
Wait.
She won't take the mark.
What the hell is going on?
Where am I?
You should know. You're half Klingon.
Enlighten me.
This is the Barge of the Dead.
Our dishonoured souls are being taken to Gre'thor.
- Klingon hell is a myth. - That's what I thought.
Just a foolish superstition.
Imagine my surprise.
But I was on Voyager with my crew.
That was the naj, the dream before dying.
When we can't accept we've died, we create the illusion of life to hold on to.
- He slaughtered my friends. - No. He slaughtered the dream.
He dragged you from the illusion of life.
This is where you belong.
What is that?
It's the Kos'Karii. They'll try to lure you to them. Don't listen.
- B'Elanna, are you there? - Can you hear me?
- Help us find you. - Tom? Chakotay?
It's not your friends.
There are things here worse than death.
You.
Is this the mongrel child? Yes.
The one whose face would not bear the mark.
B'Elanna... daughter of Miral.
- It's not your time. - How do you know my name?
You've come close to boarding this ship many times.
I remember the first.
You were a child. Your mother took you to the Sea of Gatan.
Your curiosity was as deep as the water.
I fell in. I almost drowned.
When your mother breathed life back into your lungs, she told you about me.
- So you're supposed to be Kortar. - Eh?
- You remember me? - I remember the myth of Kortar.
The first Klingon. He destroyed the gods who created him.
I was condemned to ferry the souls of the dishonoured to Gre'thor.
I may have believed in you as a child, but not any more.
If you didn't still believe, you wouldn't be here.
Foolish girl.
You cannot harm me. I am already dead.
What's happening?
Another dishonoured warrior is being delivered.
Mother.
It's all right. You're safe.
Your shuttle was drifting on the edge of an ion storm.
You lost life support. We found you just in time.
But I got through the storm. I remember crashing into the shuttlebay.
When we tractored your shuttle back to Voyager, you were in a coma.
We almost lost you.
- The Klingon artefact. - Artefact?
My hand.
You took quite a beating out there.
More than your fair share of cuts and bruises.
Come in.
- How are you feeling? - A little out of place.
- Would you like to talk about it? - Yes.
And no.
- Let me know when you decide. - I don't know how to say this.
Try.
Do you believe in an afterlife?
I accept there are things in the universe that can't be scanned by a tricorder.
What happened to you out there?
I think... I died.
I died and I was on the Barge of the Dead. In the Klingon afterlife.
Klingon mythology was engrained in you since you were a child.
It's not surprising you experienced some of those images.
I saw my mother.
If it was real, then she's dead.
Your mother, the Barge of the Dead. These are just symbols.
- Your mind is telling you something. - What? That my mother's going to hell?
You need time to digest it. Interpret the symbols and search for their meaning.
What if there is no symbolism to interpret? What if the afterlife is real?
I'm an engineer. My whole life I've immersed myself in science.
But what if it's time to start looking beyond that?
My grandfather used to think he could transform himself into a wolf
so that he could venture out to explore the spirit realm.
It was real to him, as real as what your experience was to you.
But that doesn't mean he grew hair on his body and walked on all fours.
My mother has been on my mind a lot lately.
We've just had a big anniversary. It's been ten years since we talked.
But it was so real.
I could taste the blood in the air.
I could feel the wind.
I was seasick from the rocking of the boat.
- Hi. - Hi.
- What are you reading? - The paq'batlh.
- It's a sacred Klingon scroll. - Find anything?
- You don't want to know. - Come on, it can't be that bad.
You want to bet?
I found out why my mother is on her way to Gre'thor.
- It's because I sent her there. - What do you mean?
The sins of the child. She's being punished for my dishonour.
I turned my back on everything Klingon. She has to pay the price.
You can't even be sure your mother is dead,
much less blame yourself for what happens in the afterlife.
Look at this. The Eleventh Tome of Klavek.
It's a story about Kahless returning from the dead with a wound from the afterlife.
A warning that what he experienced wasn't a dream. It happened to me.
Kahless was in the afterlife to rescue his brother from the Barge of the Dead
and deliver him to Sto-Vo-Kor. Don't you see?
I have a chance to rescue my mother if I accept responsibility for her dishonour
before she passes through the gates of Gre'thor.
I have to go back.
Wait a minute. What do you mean, go back?
I can't let her suffer for what I've done.
It's the only way.
I respect what you believe in, but you're starting to scare me.
I'm scaring myself.
It's a controlled procedure. I'll be supervised.
The Doctor can simulate the ion storm. He'll help me with your permission.
I'm still not inclined to grant your request.
I can't pursue my spiritual beliefs?
Don't turn this into a debate about freedom of worship.
That's what it is.
There's a limit to how far I'll let religious practices go.
If your beliefs required you to sacrifice a child, I wouldn't allow that either.
That's an absurd example.
You want to simulate a near-death experience to visit the Barge of Death?
You're telling me what's absurd? I won't let you risk your life for this.
- Captain, please. - Request denied.
What I do with my own life is one thing.
But to know that I have condemned my mother...
I appreciate that, but what you experienced wasn't real.
It doesn't matter if you think it was real. It was to me.
Whatever it was, it changed me.
I can't ignore that. I need to confront what's happened.
I'm sorry.
- You're just like her. - Lieutenant?
My mother.
You're as dedicated to Starfleet principles as she was to Klingon honour.
I know we haven't always seen eye to eye.
But despite our differences, you helped me become a good officer.
- I'd like to think you're proud of me. - Lam.
My mother never had the chance to be proud of me.
I'd like her to know me the way you do.
I don't want her to die thinking of me as a disgrace.
You have to let me do this.
I can't believe the captain is allowing this.
One minute you're in a coma, the next you're a born-again Klingon?
I just know this is something I have to do.
There's got to be an easier way to explore your spirituality. Church?
- It wouldn't be enough. - I'll read the scrolls, learn Klingon.
We'll figure this out... together.
Next time.
- I just hope there is a next time. - There will be.
- Report. - I've examined the sensor logs.
I should be able to trigger her near-death experience.
Good. B'Elanna?
I'm ready.
Be careful.
You have an hour.
At the first sign of trouble we're bringing you out. Understood?
Computer, erect an isolation field around the surgical bay.
Decrease oxygen concentration within the force field by 27%.
Begin ionising the enclosed atmosphere to 5,000 particles per cubic metre.
- She's unconscious. - Neural activity decreasing to 87%.
62%.
- Synaptic function is failing. - Compensating.
- Neural activity is nominal. - She's not breathing.
She's still alive. Her lungs are taking in enough oxygen
to keep her brain from necrotising.
Q'apla, B'Elanna.
Mother?
Stay away. You are an illusion.
You're trying to lure me away.
Mother, it's me.
B'Elanna?
Then you died as well?
- I've come to lift your dishonour. - You don't believe in Sto-Vo-Kor.
A lot has happened since I last saw you.
I've changed.
Not enough.
It was you who brought this damnation upon me.
If you hadn't forced me to become a warrior...
- I tried to guide you in Klingon ways. - You tried a little too hard.
If you had listened to me
we wouldn't be on the Barge of the Dead. You were always running away.
You drove me away.
The same way you drove away my father.
He abandoned us.
You pushed him to the point where he couldn't be near anything Klingon,
including me.
I wanted to give you honour.
If you had understood that I would not be on my way to Gre'thor.
We're on the Barge of the Dead
and we're still having the same argument we were having ten years ago.
Look. If I have dishonoured you,
I am truly sorry.
Are you? You have too much anger in your heart to be sorry.
We don't have time for this if we perform the transference.
You intend to lift my dishonour by taking my place?
I have no intention of being on this barge when it gets to Gre'thor.
We've got just enough time before my crew resuscitates me.
I should have known you'd choose the easy way.
What are you talking about? Do you know the risks I've taken to save you?
You still understand nothing about being a Klingon.
I would rather face damnation with what little honour you have left me
than cheat my way into Sto-Vo-Kor.
There she is. Bring them.
- The mongrel child's returned. - I'm taking my mother's place.
B'Elanna!
- You claim her dishonour as your own? - Yes.
- You're willing to die for her? - Yes. Release her to Sto-Vo-Kor.
- No! - Keep her quiet.
It's not your decision. She has the right to reclaim your honour.
Once we reach Gre'thor and you are within its gates, I will release her.
No. Now.
You're very impatient.
Time must be slipping away in the living world.
You're concerned your friends will revive you too soon.
Did you really think I could be fooled so easily?
I will die for her. No tricks, no games.
I will take her place honourably.
Like a Klingon.
If you choose this path, your friends will not be able to save you.
- No, I forbid it! - I understand.
Your dishonour has been lifted. Sto-Vo-Kor awaits.
- I will not abandon my daughter. - She has made the choice. Go!
Daughter of Miral, embrace your fate.
- Neural patterns are breaking down. - I'm initiating resuscitation.
Vent the ionised particles.
- 20 milligrams cordrazine! - I'm deactivating the force field.
Welcome to Gre'thor.
- This isn't Gre'thor. - I assure you it is.
You've taken your mark.
- Is this some kind of joke? - This is no laughing matter.
You've met Mr Neelix, our ambassador to the recently deceased.
Questions, comments, suggestions - he's your man.
If you'll follow me.
I'll be performing Berlioz's "Faust” tomorrow night in holodeck 2.
Feel free to stop by.
15 decks, computers augmented with bio-neural circuitry.
Cruising speed warp 9.975. Not that you'll be going anywhere.
- No Cavern of Despair? - Don't need it.
- I don't consider Voyager hell. - Have you ever been truly happy here?
If you thought 50 years here would be difficult, try eternity.
This is a great day for B'Elanna Torres.
A day when we pay tribute to her dishonour.
- She's not responding. - Neural activity 48%, 37%...
- We're losing her. - We must stabilise her functions.
I'm attempting neural resequencing.
B'Elanna's misdeeds have led her here. She comes with no valour, no glory.
Nothing to celebrate in song and story.
- You have no one to blame but yourself. - You've kept us at arm's length.
- Even Tom, who you claim to love. - Hear, hear.
I tried to assist you, but you resisted. You're stubborn.
She inherited that from her mother. And the forehead.
- 80, how's the afterlife? - It's not what I had in mind.
Are you searching your subconscious for the symbols meaning?
Lieutenant Torres, defend yourself.
Captain?
What are you still doing here? I released you to Sto-Vo-Kor.
- You can't free me till you free yourself. - I don't understand.
- You never did. - I did everything the ritual said.
- I came back for you. - Forget it. It's meaningless.
Meaningless? I died for you.
No, you didn't. It's not your time.
You still don't understand this journey.
- Then tell me. - Request denied.
- What do you want? - Who are you asking?
You. Kahless. The tooth fairy. Anyone who'll tell me what I'm supposed to do.
You are the only one who can answer that question.
Choose to live, B'Elanna.
- Neural activity at 23%. - Initiate cortical stimulation.
- Pulses at 50 millijoules. - No effect.
- Increase to 70 millijoules. - Come on, B'Elanna.
Defend yourself.
You want me to fight? You want me to be a good little Klingon?
- Is that it? - You've let your anger consume you.
- Now it's consuming us. - She's condemned us.
- Misery loves company. - Get away.
- Or what? You'll kill us where we stand? - Tell me what you want me to be.
A good Starfleet officer? A good Maquis?
Lover? Daughter?
- Just tell me what you want from me. - We don't want anything from you.
- We only want you. - We're not your enemies.
Defend yourself.
I don't know how.
I'm so tired of fighting.
We know.
You've taken the first step of your journey.
- And what about you? - We will see each other again.
- In Sto-Vo-Kor? - Yes. In Sto-Vo-Kor.
Or maybe when you get home.
Mother?
God, I'm alive.
Welcome back.