Caretaker - L. A. Graf [77]
They made a clean hit, raking the Kazon ship from stem to stern and rolling neatly starboard to avoid the inevitable return fire.
She wished they knew enough about the little Kazon ships--and their crews--to tell if Jabin's pitching withdrawal was a sign of injury, or just a lead-up to another more angry approach. As the Maquis ship's single phaser bank slashed at the second Kazon's exposed underside, Janeway slapped open a channel without bothering Kim at Operations to do so. "Janeway to Chakotay."
She had to smile grimly as the second Kazon made the mistake of trying to turn and engage, only to wind up with Chakotay hugging its tail and hammering it with repeat phaser blasts. "Tuvok and I are beaming to the Array," she said, making no effort to hide the admiration in her voice. "Can you hold off the Kazon?"
Chakotay didn't sound as confident as she felt when he replied, "I think so, Captain."
"Good." She left him to his fight, motioning Rollins away from the conn and into Tuvok's position. "Mr. Paris, you have the conn."
He hesitated a mere second, as though not certain she'd actually spoken to him. Then he darted for the helm before she could either order him again or change her mind. "Yes, ma'am!"
It wasn't precisely a crunch, but Janeway forgave him.
She joined Tuvok at the turbolift, holding the door for him as she leaned back into the bridge. "Maintain transporter locks, Ensign," she called to Rollins, and waited until he nodded his understanding.
"Emergency beam-out status." Because if we have to get out of there fast, we're not going to get a second chance.
None of them was. And if she and Tuvok failed, then none of them would be going home very soon.
Stepping back into the turbolift, she tried very hard not to hold her breath as it whisked them to the transporter room.
Chapter 20
The holographic barn on the Array seemed darker somehow, less real, less distinct. Shadows as blurred and liquid as fading ink leaked across the artificial image despite the antique lanterns hanging from the square pillar at the center of the building. In fact, now that Janeway really looked at the dim smear surrounding the pillar, she realized that the presence of lanterns was only suggested by the shape of the light--there were no actual objects, not even a semblance of hooks.
From somewhere nearby in the darkness, a lonely banjo played one-note remarks into the air.
Tuvok's tricorder made a poor counterpoint to the already disintegrating melody. "The data-processing system is behind this wall, Captain." He gestured farther back into the barn without looking up from his sensors.
"You know what to do."
He looked up with eyebrows lifted in a questioning glance that would have been surprise on any other humanoid, then nodded slowly as the banjo music seemed to reach him for the first time.
Janeway tipped her head in the direction of the stumbling chords, and was glad when Tuvok accepted her decision without comment and resumed his explorations without her. The Vulcan didn't need her to locate the Array's displacement system, Janeway knew. He certainly didn't need her to decipher the system's workings. But the Caretaker... The Caretaker obviously needed somebody, or something, and Janeway had never possessed the ability to walk away with only half her questions answered. Wishing she'd thought to keep one of those flashlights they'd used in the Ocampa tunnels, she stepped gingerly into the deeper darkness.
She didn't see the old man so much as sense him, huddled in a corner amid a half-sketched image of saddles and baled hay. The banjo on his lap drifted mistily between his hands, as uncertain and ephemeral as its music. He looked up at Janeway with a melancholy smile. "You're nothing if not persistent."
She paused to kneel a half-meter from the apparent end of his hay bale, not wanting to intrude on his projection. "We need you to send us back where