Ghost of a Chance - Mark Garland [8]
Captain Janeway stood up slowly, examining the strange blends of transparent colors as they gelled slightly, further defining the entity. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead, the visitor began to speak to her, not in words, but with images, at first no more substantial than the ghost itself, though they quickly began to clarify.
In her mind she saw what could only have been the same images Chakotay had described--a people dying as their world shook their houses down around them and split their fields apart, as their sky filled with smoke and fire and their lands turned gray as they were covered with ash and soot. But there was more.
The visions darkened, then came to light again revealing a vast, grassy clearing. On the ground dozens of unfamiliar but quite humanoid aliens lay motionless, most of them still clutching crude weapons--knives and crossbows, axes and slings. Their bodies and simple clothing were marked by terrible burn wounds of a sort Janeway found disturbingly familiar...
Again the visions grew dark, replaced this time by a message that needed no images or words at all. As if through an instinct or a strong emotion, Janeway understood that the ghost was conveying a clear and desperate plea for help.
Once more the presence faded from her mind, allowing her conscious senses to come back to the fore. She saw the ghostly form of her unknown visitor fading from her eyes as well, replaced by the familiar sight of her ready room. Janeway felt a surge of fatigue move through her as the ghost's last traces vanished. She tried to rise and nearly fell. She put her hands on her desk, steadying herself, eyes closed, taking deep breaths, and let the feeling pass. When she had recovered sufficiently, she cleared her throat, straightened her uniform, and headed for the bridge.
"What is our position?" she asked, striding as briskly as she could through the doorway, avoiding her officers' eyes for the moment.
"We're entering a high scanning orbit around Drenar Four, Captain," Paris answered, looking up from his consoles.
"We've just begun detailed scans of the planet," Chakotay added.
"We should be seeing some results in a few minutes."
"Good," she said, standing in front of the commander's chair.
She noticed that Chakotay seemed to be considering her more carefully.
"Everything all right, Captain?" he asked.
"Yes."
The two of them stared at the main viewscreen. Drenar Four was a beautiful world, Janeway noted: blue oceans, white clouds, one very large continent on the day side covered by thick forests and trailing mountain ranges. Even from here, though, she could see clear evidence of heavy volcanic activity along several mountain chains. Long plumes of smoke and ash painted dark lines across the stratosphere.
"You're sure?" Chakotay persisted.
"What?"
"Sure everything is... all right?"
"No," Janeway said.
Chakotay looked at her. "Captain?"
She dropped the pretense. She leaned close to his ear. "I'd like to talk with you for a moment, Commander, about those visions you had."
Chakotay nodded. "Of course."
"There are some things about this planet that already don't make sense," she whispered.
"Like what?"
"For starters, it's gorgeous. The sort of prize that would have been colonized by any number of races if it were in Federation space.
Unless someone was keeping it as a resort of some kind, a possibility that is rare but not unprecedented. In such places there are usually maintenance facilities or visitor centers, something easily detectable.
I am surprised to find such a world still in so pristine a condition."
"There is apparently someone down there," Chakotay said.
"Yes, the numerous small fires seem to indicate that," she said.
"Mr. Tuvok," the first officer said loudly, "please report."
"We are registering hundreds of humanoid life-forms," Tuvok told her, examining the gray-and-orange images on his sensor displays.
"A pretechnological society, mostly agricultural.