Marooned - Christie Golden [25]
The tall, exceedingly thin humanoid to whom the comments were addressed nodded. "Good"' it said, and Janeway's commbadge translated the voice as feminine and harsh. "Please follow us, Captain Janeway. The Commander awaits your presence."
She turned on her heel and began taking long, swift strides toward the interior of the space the bubble had once safely enclosed. The Voyager crew followed, having to jog from time to time to keep up. The remaining guards closed ranks about them. They no longer trained their weapons on the Federation crew, but their body language was clear: Do not try to run.
The guards' height was such that Janeway caught only the barest glimpses of their surroundings, little more than what she had filrst seen-buildings long since abandoned, streets not in use and cluttered with rubble. Her lungs began to heave with the mild exertion and she mentally made a note of it. Breathable, certainly, but not oxygen rich; we can stay here but not for long.
Their jog-walk brought them to an enormous building that towered over them oppressively. It, like all the other structures Janeway had seen, was old, but this one had been kept up better. One of the guards stepped forward and flipped open a panel. Its long digits moved, typing in a code of some sort. It felt Janeway's gaze, and moved its body so that she couldn't see.
With a groan of aged metal, a door slid upward, revealing a small room. With her weapon, the head guard gestured that they step inside. When they had done so, another guard keyed in a second code. The doors closed and the light all but vanished. The small, boxy room began to move with jerky, alarming movements. "It's a turbolift!" exclaimed Bokk.
"Quiet," rumbled one of the guards ominously. He shifted his weapon to underscore his point, the faint light glinting off the metal. Pressed close beside Janeway, Neelix took a deep breath, but fortunately had the sense to remain quiet.
They seemed to descend forever. Janeway was silently glad of the radioactive isotope hidden just beneath the surface of her arm. She deeply suspected a trap, and was just as glad that she'd given her first officer a way to track them if necessary.
Down, down, down they went. Janeway fought an urge to rub her arms to protect against the cold. The guards seemed impervious to it, but she could tell her crew was uncomfortable.
Just when she was about to wonder if this particular voyage led to the center of the planet, they bumped to a stop. The doors opened again, and Janeway blinked hard against the light, harsh on the eyes after the comparative darkness of the dimly illuminated turbolift.
A cold prod from a weapon at her side told Janeway to move forward and she stepped out into a winding corridor, though not without a quick glance around to determine what level they might be on. There was no information to be had, and a second, less gentle poke with the hard end of the metal weapon told her she'd better quit looking around.
She strode forward briskly, her head high, sensing her crew following. The floor beneath them was padded and the sound of her boots was muffled, softened. The walls had been covered with a shimmering fabric of some sort to disguise their true barren metal. They passed various doors; Janeway counted four before the head guard came to an abrupt halt.
"The Commander awaits," she intoned, and opened the door.
Janeway had spent several years teaming to guard her emotions in diplomatic situations. That was the only reason her jaw did not literally drop. However, her eyebrows did reach for her hairline in surprise as she entered the room. Behind her, she heard gasps from those less disciplined.
Nothing she had seen on the surface or underground had prepared her for the sumptuousness of Aren