Marooned - Christie Golden [29]
His face fell. "What?" And then he laughed, an uncertain chuckle. "Of course you have a plan!"
Janeway rubbed at her eyes. "Really, Neelix, I don't. Not yet, anyway. We'll come up with something when all of us have a chance to put our heads together back on Voyager. Estimated time to rendezvous, Mr. Paris?"
"Ten minutes, Captain."
Janeway glanced over at Bokk. This was the first away mission for the young Bolian. Ensign Bokk had performed his security duties with a minimum of fuss, and Tuvok had spoken well of him at the last evaluation. Now his eyes were on the floor, and his blue fingers drummed on his rather pudgy thighs.
"It's not much fun, is it?" Janeway asked softly.
Bokk looked up, startled. "Pardon, Captain?"
"Being stared at like a ch'lllla in a cage," she said, mentioning one of Bolarus IX's most famous native creatures.
Bokk shook his head. "I only wish I had poisoned claws and a double set of teeth," he replied in a doleful tone. Despite herself, Janeway smiled slightly.
The expressive features of the Bolians permitted them to look utterly miserable when they chose. She patted him gently on the back and turned to Tuvok. The Vulcan had left his seat and was now kneeling directly behind Paris's chair. Janeway opened her mouth to question him, but he silenced her with a raised finger to his lips. Abruptly, she saw what he had seen-a small, almost unnoticeable device affixed to the base of the chair.
Bokk, too, had seen, and sat in wide-eyed silence.
Neither Pads nor Tomes had noticed what Tuvok was doing, however, and the half-Klingon now burst out with a growling comment: "I really, really don't like that man."
Up front, Paris snorted. "You said it, sister."
"Oh, what a pity," came a silky, sardonic voice that made Janeway's heart jump. The smug features of Aren Yashar suddenly appeared on the viewscreen. "And I so wanted us to be friends."
At once, Janeway realized that Yashar's guards had planted a listening device aboard the shuttlecraft-no doubt that same small mechanism that Tuvok had been attempting to disable. For a brief instant she felt a fierce pleasure knowing that no one had mentioned the isotope, but Aren's next words shattered her.
"A bad storm, isn't it?" Abruptly the full fury of the ion storm broke upon the little shuttlecraft. Janeway, who had been standing, tumbled to the floor as the vessel almost rolled over. She grabbed hold of a chair and pulled herself upright. Anger flashed in her blue eyes.
The tumult made her voice vibrate as she demanded, "Status?"
"We can make it, Captain," Torres replied, her own words coming out in a choked gulp.
"Two minutes till we're clear of it," grunted Paris. "Hang on!"
"Oh, so close and yet so far," gloated Aren. Before them his image shuddered and wavered, but his voice was clear as a bell. "I'm afraid I must apologize for the trick. But come, come, Captain, you didn't really think I'd let you go? Turnyour ship on my poor pirate vessels? What kind of a commander would I be then?
I didn't want to bring this up in front of my dear Kes-it would upset her. I'm so sorry you couldn't see things my way, Captain. It could have been ... fun."
"Captain," cried Torres, "There's a huge buildup of charged particle energy on our port-"
There was a sudden blinding flash of light. A deep throbbing sound assaulted Janeway's ears and she opened her mouth in a silent cry of pain. Still blinking from the light, Janeway watched in horror as sparks flew up from the console and the lights went out. For a moment she sailed through the air as the shuttlecraft went tumbling out of control. Then merciful blackness descended. The last thing Janeway heard before she slipped into unconsciousness was the triumphant laughter of Aren Yashar.
PRISONER.
The word throbbed in Kes's mind like an open wound, imparting pain and anger and, perhaps worst of all, an aching