Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [12]
“Can I help you, Kes?” Chakotay asked.
“I was looking for the captain, Mr. Chakotay,” she said, in her husky whisper. “I’m not sure where I should be.”
“During red alert, every crewman goes to an assigned post,” the first officer explained patiently. He frowned in thought. “I guess we haven’t gotten around to assigning places for you and Neelix. We’ll tend to that another time. Right now, though, the captain was injured and is in sickbay. It’s the safest part of the ship, and I suggest you head down there. Help the doctor if you can.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, and turned on her heel.
As Kes entered the lift doors, Chakotay took a moment to survey the bridge, settled on Kim, and asked him to access the doctor’s channel. In moments, a screen by Kim’s station lit up and the doctor’s stern face filled it.
“How’s the captain?”
“She was knocked unconscious by the fall, but it’s nothing more than a mild concussion. I have her sedated.”
“Any other serious injuries?”
“I don’t know. When I can get back to tending them, I’ll know better. Sickbay out.”
As the screen went dark, Chakotay muttered, “I’d certainly like to know how Starfleet authorized that program. Paris, how long until they’re in firing range?”
“Five minutes, twenty-seven seconds out,” the helmsman replied. “They’re moving in what would seem to be an erratic pattern until you allow for the mines.”
“Tuvok, anything from the sensors?”
“I am attempting to refine the input,” the Vulcan admitted. “At this distance, it is difficult to be precise about anything beyond their unique warp signature and size. Each of the five appears to be less than one-third the size of Voyager. They are commensurately proportioned for the minefield.” He had long ago forced himself to turn his precise measurements into human-preferred approximations. It continued to grate against his natural tendencies, but his little adjustments made his association with humans far more tolerable.
“Are they Kazon?” Chakotay asked.
Tuvok studied the schematic images the computer created from the sensor input and quickly called up scans taken of the two Kazon images from the Ocampa homeworld. “Negative,” he said after a moment. “While the Kazon seem widespread throughout this portion of the Delta Quadrant, the warp signatures of the approaching vessels are different.”
“What have you learned about the Kazon from Neelix?” Chakotay asked.
“I have not had ample opportunity to ask Mr. Neelix for many details,” Tuvok admitted. He avoided the truth, which was the Talaxian annoyed him - not a typical Vulcan response. Neelix stood too close to Tuvok, seemed to share a child’s fascination with every facet of starship technology, and, even among humans, seemed overly talkative. Avoiding him, Tuvok realized with chagrin, may have put the ship in jeopardy.
“Neelix to the bridge,” Chakotay called and refrained from further comment. He turned in his chair and looked directly at Tuvok. “I want phasers online, Tuvok,” he ordered.
“Sir, may I remind you that most starship captains refrain from appearing hostile during first contact? It’s covered in General Order Twelve- “
“You may remind me, Tuvok,” Chakotay said, an edge creeping into his voice. “But let me remind you that the minefield tells me we need to proceed with caution.”
“The field is a defensive tool, not offensive,” Tuvok countered. He then added, “Phasers charged and online.”
Ignoring the Vulcan, Chakotay turned and said over his left shoulder, “Can you hail them, Mr. Kim?”
“I can try,” Kim replied, sounding not at all convinced. Kim’s fingers began transmitting a standard Starfleet hail in the Kazon, Ocampa, and Talaxian languages, presuming the nearby aliens might recognize one or the other. Not for the first time, Tuvok reflected that there was still so much to be learned in order to be prepared for dealing with Delta Quadrant unknowns.
“No response,” Kim said after twenty