Marooned - Christie Golden [40]
Aren pulled away, a little, and wiped at her face. "Please, please don't cry. It breaks my heart to see you so unhappy."
Kes stared at him. It really did seem as though he hadn't realized how terrible a thing he had done to her. "What can I do, little bird? What can I do to make up for this?"
Kes reached for anger, for outrage, and found none. She was tired. She ached with hope deferred, with a weariness that made her feel as though she were as old as Aren.
""Nothing, Aren. Just-just leave me alone for a while, will you? Please."
"Anything. End simulation," he told whoever was listening, and the sickbay vanished, to be replaced with Kes's private room. "Kes, there is more to this place than these rooms. We have a marvelous computer system, a hydroponics bay, and the things you can do are limitless."
F,xcept the one thing I want to do, Kes thought dully.
"When you tire of staring at the walls, let me know. Some variety of scene might do you some good. Again, I truly am sorry for any pain I might have caused you. For the next few years, Kes, your joy is my life." He paused, seemed about to say something more, then apparently thought better of it. With an uncertain smile, he turned and left, the door hissing shut behind him.
Kes collapsed onto the bed, wondering if there were hidden viewscreens, hidden listening devices, if everything she did or said would be heard. Even fearing that this might be so, she couldn't help the hoarse sobs that racked her tiny body for a long time.
This was the worst prison yet, because it was the kindest.
Gulping salt tears, she sat up and hugged her legs to her chest in a childish gesture. She couldn't stop shivering!
No. No. I won't let him win. I won't let him bleed the spirit out of me, bit by bit.
She took a deep, calming breath, and closed her eyes. The lashes were heavy and wet with tears. She held the breath for a moment, then let it trickle out through her nostrils. Still keeping her eyes closed, Kes opened her arms and crossed her legs, bringing her hands gently down on her bent knees. That was better. The traditional pose Tuvok had taught her helped. It was easier then to reach for the pool of quietude, drink deeply from it, take her bullied soul and wounded dreams and soothe them one by one. Replenish. Strengthen. Renew the fight.
SAT UP A BIT SUAIGHTER AND NMMOWED HIS already tiny eyes. "Come, Janeway, do not play games with me. You must be a criminal of some sort, or else you would not be on Mishkara!"
Janeway made the connection. "Mishkara-it's a prison planet?"
Hrffl rumbled low in his throat, but it was a sound of confusion, not threat. "Can it be possible you are not criminals, then?"
"No," said Janeway earnestly. "It's a long story, but I will tell you what has happened to us if you'll tell me about Mishkara and how you and your people came here. First, though, will you permit two of my crew to take care of the ship? The-the mist it is emitting could be dangerous."
"The warp plasma, yes. I left a few of my technicians there to work on it, while we talked with you.
But of course, please send whomever you would like. You know your own vessel better than we do."
They know about warp plasma? They have technicians? Janeway tried not to let her surprise at their level of technology show. Instead, she turned to Paris and Torres. "You two, go lend some of Hrrrl's ... technicians... a hand."
"Aye, Captain," said Tomes. Paris rose as well.
"Rraagh, take them back to their vessel. Janeway, not to be rude, but how are your eyes?"
"My eyes? They're fine," replied Janeway, somewhat confused.
"What I mean is, we can see you plainly, could even see you quite well without the firelight. Can you see us as well?"
"No," answered the captain. "Our eyes do not function as well in the dark as yours do."
"Then take some light for them, too." Rraagh inclined his head and began to lumber purposefully in the direction whence they had come.