Ghost of a Chance - Mark Garland [40]
Each of the Drosary quickly acquiesced. Chakotay wondered if, in their place, several of his own crew would have done the same.
"Commander, are you all right?" Tassay asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Probably not, he thought. He could only guess what his expression must be like; he made yet another effort to soften it before attempting to answer.
"Yes," he said. "I'm fine."
CHAPTER 8
The ceiling seemed low, the walls close, though there was not enough light in the room to allow further details to emerge. The smell of damp, smoke-permeated wood filled the air. Captain Janeway lay perfectly still, moving only her eyes, drawing slow, shallow breaths as consciousness grew more certain. She dared not try anything more; it hurt to blink, her head was throbbing so.
Now she began to notice noises coming from somewhere beyond the darkened walls. Voices passed once, then again, and in between, she heard other sounds, a changing pattern of clatter that made little sense to her. When she was reasonably sure she was alone, she gently attempted to move her arms and legs, and found them to be in working order, though her left knee was sore. Next she tried to lift her head, and the pain exploded from within.
She let out a moan and pressed one hand to the top of her head.
The welt was sizable and tender. She also felt dried blood but nothing fresh. It was coming back to her now--the shuttle, the Drenarians, the earthquake, and the fall. She checked her belt and found her tricorder and phaser still there.
Slowly she sat up and watched the world spin. She waited for it to stop, then got carefully to her feet. The ceiling was low; she had barely a foot of clearance. She reached toward the length of heavy cloth that covered a nearby window and pulled the curtain gently back, and light entered the room. She winced as her eyes reacted; she turned away from the window, looked about inside instead, and discovered she was in a log cabin much like those built hundreds of years ago on the American frontier. The furnishings--a table and a few chairs, a bed built along one wall, and a storage chest--were all simple and handmade, but neatly constructed. They featured hinges and braces of finely crafted metalwork. An oil lamp, unlit, rested on the table.
As she looked back toward the window, she noticed it had glass in it.
She hadn't expected that. Outside she could see another cabin much like the one she was in. She folded the curtain flap under, which left a wedge of open window when she let go. Before she could do more, she heard voices outside, coming closer.
She steadied herself, one hand close to her phaser, as she heard the door latch move. She had no desire to demonstrate what the weapon could do--surely these people had been through enough already--but she was too weak to fight hand-to-hand, if it came to that.
When the door opened, the first one through it was Tuvok.
The Vulcan was followed closely by Kim. Then an older Drenarian male entered, neatly dressed in dark slacks and a long-sleeved tunic. The alien's clothing was clean and in good condition, but it looked nearly as old as he was. His hair was dark with a sprinkling of gray, and his face, unlike those of the other Drenarian men she had seen, was clean-shaven.
Up close the heavy head and facial features Janeway had observed earlier seemed less harsh, and she noticed a subtle hint of orange coloration in the wrinkles of the man's skin. Janeway felt the Drenarian's deep, dark eyes upon her as they faced each other, and she instinctively looked away, not certain why those eyes bothered her.
"Captain, you are well?" Tuvok asked, leaning forward to assess the damage to her head.
"I've been better," she said, waving him off.
"I would like you to meet a new friend of ours, Nan Loteth. Mr. Loteth, Captain Janeway."
She put out her hand, but the Drenarian only stared at it as if it were an unknown animal. Janeway withdrew the offer.
"They are not familiar,"