Marooned - Christie Golden [23]
"Janeway out." She felt that if she continued this conversation a moment longer, she'd run the risk of losing control. And she couldn't permit that to happen. Aren opened his mouth indignantly to protest, then his face was replaced by the image of Mishkara and its surrounding stars.
"What a jerk!" said Paris.
"That, Mr. Paris," said Janeway, her own voice rich with contempt, "is an understatement." She turned to Chakotay. "Let's go, Thvok. You're in charge, Commander. Notify the docking bay to ready a shuttlecraft for us, and tell Ensign Bokk to meet us there. Mr. Paris, you're with us. We could use a good pilot to get through that storm and besides," she added with a touch of dark humor, "Aren wanted someone unusual, and it'll make me feel better to have someone as ordinary as you to fill that final slot."
"Nice to know that my captain fully appreciates all my stellar qualities," said Paris dryly as he rose.
"A suggestion," said Tuvok. "This is likely to be a trap. Yashar could be attempting to hold any or all of us hostage as well. It seems to be Kes that he is after, but we don't know that for a certainty."
"Go on," said Janeway. "What are you getting at?"
"If he kidnaps anyone else, it will most likely be you, Captain. In which case we will need to locate both you and Kes. I suggest implanting a subdermal modified radioactive isotope. That way if we are separated, we will have a way of tracking you."
"And it will help us to find Kes again if we're forced to make a second attempt," finished Janeway. "Brilliant, Tuvok. The sort of devious solution I've come to expect from you." Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Very logical too, of course," she added with a barely discernable twinkle in her eye. The Vulcan did not respond, but his brow descended.
"I don't quite understand," admitted Paris as the three of them stepped into the turbolift.
"Sickbay," Janeway instructed. Then she turned toward Paris, "The doctor will implant an isotope just beneath my skin that will give out a very subtle radioactive signal. The signal is a standard Starfleet pattern, so we'll easily be able to recognize it. Everywhere I go, it'll leave a trail we can follow."
"I get it," said Paris. "Hansel and Gretel and the trail of breadcrumbs."
"Precisely," smiled Janeway. Tuvok looked from one to the other of them impassively.
"There are times when I truly do not understand human behavior," said Tuvok. Janeway wondered if there weren't a hint of exasperation in his normally modulated voice. She and Paris exchanged a grin at Tuvok's expense. Her smile faded, though, as they sped toward the shuttle bay. With the sensors inoperative, they had no idea what might be awaiting them on the hidden surface of Mishkara.
WHEN THE SHUTNECRAF-F HIT THE ION STORM, JANEWAY briefly allowed herself the luxury of wondering if she hadn't taken Torres, Paris, Bokk, Neelix, and Tuvok on a fool's errand. The little vessel was knocked crazily about by the storm like a giant child's favorite plaything. For a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Paris could do nothing. Then, he and Janeway managed to regain control of the shuttlecraft and direct it away from the worst of the onslaught, heading down toward the atmosphere-at least, what remained of it under the protection of the distortion field.
Gradually, the ferocity eased and at last disappeared altogether. Janeway gasped, realizing that for a brief time she'd been holding her breath, and became aware of the degree of her dishevelment. Tendrils of hair that had escaped the barrette clung wetly to her face. The place on her arm where the doctor had injected the radioactive isotope itched furiously, but Janeway didn't dare scratch. She glanced over at Tom, who looked similarly shaken, and wordlessly