Marooned - Christie Golden [61]
There was an itching sensation along his left thigh. He ignored it, thinking it was merely his poor skin rebelling against three days of a dirty uniform and no air. The itching continued, finally metamorphosing into a hot, sharp pain. He glanced down and saw a red, multilegged insect happily chewing away on him.
"Hey, get off," snapped Paris, swatting the offending creature away irritably. He rubbed the area, which stung a little bit. "Stupid bug." Not just bad food, and dirty uniforms, but hungry bugs, too. Oh, this was just a swell away mission.
"Uh oh." It was Bokk, staring up at the sky.
"Cover yourselves!" snapped Hrrri. The Voyager crew obeyed, pulling the cloaks tight about their bodies and hunching over as they sat. Paris knew even without looking, as the others did, that what Bokk had seen up in the sky was one of Yashar's scout ships. Hrrrl rose, and stretched exaggeratedly.
He's making sure they know there's a real Sshoushshin here, Paris realized.
As he stretched, Hrrrl spoke. "Scouting parties of Sshoush-shin are not uncommon. Someone must search far afield for food, and our packs will further that illusion. I only hope it was enough."
Suddenly Paris felt a warm appreciation of his hot, smelly, heavy cloak. It might have just saved his life.
,iso "There's a nice irony there, though," said his captain. "As long as Aren's got his scout ships patrolling for us, he won't activate the pulse. While Ja'in ships are in the sky, we're safe."
Tuvok turned to Hrffl, who was stirring the stew. "Have you been able to scent Neelix at all?"
Hrrrl sighed, a deep rumble. "No, I have not. But neither have I seen the scavengers move with purpose." Tom's heart sank. It was clear that Hrrrl was trying to paint the brightest picture possible of Neelix's situation, but with every hour that passed, Paris doubted that he'd see his friend again.
Mishkara was brutal. That's all there was to it. He couldn't imagine trying to walk to New Hann without Hrrrl's guidance, alertness, and foraging skills. And Neelix-he may have been a survivor, but he wasn't the hardiest of the Voyager crew.
Isn't, damn it, Tom. He isn't the hardiest. Don't you dare start thinking about Neelix in the past tense!
He felt eyes on him, and glanced up to see Janeway looking at him with concern. "You all right, Tom?" she asked.
He nodded, glanced back down at his hands. "Just... just wondering how Neelix was doing, that's all."
She sighed deeply and rubbed at her own grimestreaked, sweaty face. "I should have kept a closer eye on him. He still cares for Kes."
"We all do," said Paris. A vision of Kes's pale face and blue eyes flashed into his mind. "You couldn't have known he'd have done something this-this-"
"Stupid," Janeway finished, with a bitter smile. "I think I should have. Neelix has thrown caution to the wind on other occasions. Well, we'll just have to hope our paths cross before too long. I'm certain he's heading in the same direction we are. And with a landmark like that-" she gestured toward the ruins of New Hann, which loomed on what passed for a horizon on Mishkara "-he can't get too lost."
"It's not his getting lost that concerns me," put in Torres. "It's whatever's out here that's got me worried." She shifted beneath her cloak. "Flesh-eating plants, psychic pick-picks-"
"Kakkiks," Paris corrected with a grin.
"Whatever. I mean, at least we've got tricorders, communicators, phasers. Neelix doesn't have anything. And somehow, I just can't picture him being able to fight off a horde of attacking ex-convicts with, I don't know, a pointed stick or some rocks or something."
Neelix stared down at his pointed walking stick and the rocks that lay at his feet. Not much of an arsenal.
Neelix looked up again at the approaching Xians, who had broken into a run now, and swallowed hard.
There was nowhere to run. He had no way of communicating with them, and, truth be told, he didn't really think they were of a mind to listen to logical and reasoned discourse.