Equinox - Diane Carey [5]
Excitement-discovery! Friends! After five years of exile, of alien faces, confined to the halls of their own ship and no other, no equals, no comrades. Five years.
"What are they doing in the Delta Quadrant?" Again, Chakotay, with the operative question that Janeway preferred to have the answers for, yet did not.
In her elegant innocence, Seven posed a logical, if naive theory. "Perhaps they're searching for Voyager."
As her heart kept thundering, Janeway squeezed
one hand closed, tightly, and willed an outer calm. "The Equinox is a Nova-class ship. It was designed for planetary research, not long-range tactical missions."
She met Chakotay's eyes. There she read the concerns haunting her. Was this a trick? A lure?
Beneath his tribal tattoo, Chakotay's eyebrow crooked in silent understanding. He would check that too.
Without a word, he turned and hurried out of the room, heading for the auxiliary sensors to make a thorough defensive scan. He'd do a thorough job. Soon there would be answers.
She needed answers. The whole thing sounded wrong. Equinox was strictly an information-gathering ship, no assault capabilities other than basic shields and a few stern-chasers for defense. What was it doing so far away from charted space?
"Did you know this individual?" Seven asked, always probing, asking the kind of questions most of the crew knew better than to ask their captain at moments like this.
"Only by reputation," Janeway accommodated, never holding Seven's ignorance against her. "He was an exo-biologist promoted to captain after he made first contact with the Yridians."
"Species six-two-nine-one," the girl said. "The Collective determined that they were extinct"
"So did the Federation. Ransom proved otherwise. I always wanted to meet him. Too bad it won't be under better circumstances."
"I look forward to meeting him as well. And his crew. I wish to expand my knowledge of humanity."
Glancing at her, Janeway tried not to make too big a deal out of Seven's lingering alienness. The girl was human, but had so long been infected by the cyborg horror that she still acted as much machine as alive.
"Let's hope you get the chance," the captain said simply.
Seven's large eyes flickered with a brief flash of life. "I've got their coordinates," she offered, taking refuge in data. "Heading two-five-eight, mark twelve."
A Federation ship broadcasting a distress call! Purpose surged through Janeway such as she hadn't felt in years. This was her real job, the thing she'd been charged to do, the duty for which her oath had been sworn-to protect and defend Federation assets, property, and personnel in space. For five years every decision had been troubling-should she go, should she ignore, should she contact. Always a trick to make the choice to respond.
But not today! For the first time since they'd been flung away from Federation space and trapped in the Delta Quadrant, there was no doubt about Voyager's charge.
Her heart started bumping again. She touched the controls, freezing the redundant distress call.
"Set a course, maximum warp. Go to Red Alert."
Seven moved away immediately to carry out the order. That was all Janeway had to do-speak, and they would obey. A captain's privilege to offset the burden.
For the first time since she could remember, she wor-
ried not for her own crew but for another ship's leader lost in the Delta Quadrant. She peered at the frozen face of the man on the small screen. "Hang on, Captain," she murmured.
Tense hours linked the frazzled distress call to the first glimpse of a troubled ship on the sensor horizon. All the first-watch officers were here, some who should have been asleep. Word had rocketed through the ship that another Federation vessel-even a Starfleet vessel-had called out in the vast empty night. They'd found a long-lost brother.
Everyone was here who had an excuse to be on the bridge. Janeway could've cleared the bridge, probably should have, but her own sentimentality stopped her. They deserved a