Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [42]
The Doctor tried to picture himself in the midst of the celebrants-and shuddered. As a physician, he had been trained to view the humanoid forin dispassionately, even clinically-but not when that form was his own.
Perhaps it was a glitch in his programming, or an
idiosyncrasy derived from one of the physicianpersonalities he was modeled after. The Doctor didn't really know where his sense of modesty came from.
He was certain of only one thing-he very much did not wish to traipse around without clothes in public. Ergo, he would have to forgo any participation in the Wedding of Riw.
Sighing, the Doctor turned away from the window-and realized that his attendant was still present. She smiled at him again.
"That's a very nice shade of red," she told him.
His hand flew to his face. "I do not turn red," he insisted.
"Er ... of course not," the Betazoid replied.
"You may go," the Doctor told her.
She started to leave, then stopped and turned to look at him. "If you hurry," she said, "you can still make the ceremony."
"Thank you," he said, "but I don't think I'll be attending this year." He looked up at the ceiling. "Computer, end program."
A moment later, the Doctor was standing in an empty holodeck. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the naked Betazoids were gone-and with them, any possibility of his becoming naked and joining them.
Oh well, he thought, pulling down his uniform front with a sense of propriety. Back to the proverbial drawing board.
As Janeway emerged from the turbolift onto Voyager's bridge, she took in the image on the forward
viewscreen. It was just as Chakotay had described it to her.
Three ships were hanging motionless in space. With the exception of a minor detail here and there, they were almost identical to one another. They also bore a strong resemblance to the Caatati vessel Voyager had encountered days earlier.
"They're in bad shape," Chakotay told her, joining her as she took up a position by her center seat.
"How bad?" the captain asked.
"As bad as Rahmin's ship," the first officer told her. "Maybe worse."
Janeway glanced at Tuvok, then Ensign Kim. Their grim expressions only confirmed Chakotay's report.
"The vessel in the center continues to hail us," the Vulcan noted for the captain's benefit.
"Open a channel," Janeway told him. "On screen."
A somber visage appeared on the viewer. As the captain had expected, he was a Caatati. And he was every bit as pale and emaciated and hollow-eyed as Rahmin had been. No, Janeway thought-even more SO.
She suppressed a sigh and identified herself. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager."
"Yes," said the Caatati, "I know. My name is Lumas. I'm in charge of my vessel as well as the two that accompany it."
"You've spoken recently with Rahmin," the captain deduced.
"I have been in contact with him," Lumas admitted. "While we Caatati don't usually travel as a group,
we still communicate from time to time." He paused, as if seeking a way to phrase his thoughts. "Rahmin told us of your great generosity."
"He needed help," Janeway responded succinctly. "We did whatever we could for him."
Lumas looked like a hungry man forced to watch as someone else ate. "Captain," he ventured, "would it be possible for me to have a word with you? In private, perhaps?"
Janeway glanced at Chakotay. He shrugged, indicating he had no objection to the idea. Tuvok was another matter.
"Captain," he said, "I must advise you-"
"I know," she replied. "And thank you, Lieutenant."
Despite the Vulcan's warning, she wasn't particularly wary of Lumas and his ships. After all, Rahmin's Caatati had been just what they claimed to berefugees from a Borg attack. According to Voyager's sensor scans, Lumas's group was in much the same straits.
Of course, the captain had an inkling of how her conversation with Lumas might go. But that didn't deter her in the least.
"If you lower your shields," she told the Caatati, "I'll have my transporter operator bring you aboard."
Lumas's