Marooned - Christie Golden [63]
Furball's nose twitched and its blue eyes gazed deep into his. Neelix cradled it close to his chest, and it moved, snuggling closer. "Aw," said Neelix, stroking the soft fur. "You'll be all right, Furball. We both will."
He began walking again, his energy restored. Maybe this thin air was somehow good for him, after all. A breeze chilled his flesh, and he glanced over at his left shoulder. He was shocked to see that a Xian weapon had cut a neat incision in his coat. The flesh below, though, was completely whole.
Neelix suddenly broke out in a sweat. What had he been thinking? He'd charged a whole group of some of the most dangerous aliens on the planet, alone, with only a stick for a weapon. And he'd won! Though it had been closer than he'd first thought, judging by that hole in his jacket. The tiniest fraction of a centimeter and he'd have been seriously injured. He'd been very, very lucky on this journey so far. What was it the Earth folks said sometimes? That you had a guardian angel looking out for you? Maybe one of their angels was having a slow day and had decided to look out for a wandering Talaxian.
Whatever it was, he wasn't going to question it.
Cuddling his pet close, Neelix continued his journey toward New Hann with a renewed spring in his step. Night was coming on, and he wanted to put a few miles under his belt before retiring.
When Aren Yashar had told Kes he could deny her nothing-except her freedom-he had apparently been serious.
Her request to see the control center had been immediately agreed to. Pleased at her interest, Aren had happily exclaimed that she was coming out of her shell and that she would be thrilled and delighted with the many interesting things to do. Down they had gone in the turbolift, until Kes was starting to become alarmed. Seeing her distress, Aren edged closer. He did not touch her, but Kes could feel his warmth, smell the wood-and-smoke fragrance with which he anointed himself.
At last, after what seemed forever, the doors hissed open.
Kes gasped.
The word enormous seemed too small for this room. She and Aren stood on a raised walkway, peering over the railing into a shadowed vault of machinery. Along the walls behind them were panels of all sorts, most of them dark. Only a few areas below were lit. Kes caught glimpses of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of monitors and video screens. The security guards, or computer operators, whatever their function was-Kes was uncertain-sat slumped in their chairs. Occasionally one would reach out a languid hand and tap something or other. into the computer.
Aren cleared his throat, and chuckled a little to himself at how quickly the lethargic guards hastened to look busy. He grinned down at Kes. "An impressive array of systems, is it not?"
Kes nodded, her eyes roving over the consoles. "But why are so many of them inactive?"
"Mishkara, sadly, did not always belong to me," Aren explained as he led Kes down a winding metal stairway. "Long ago-well, long ago at least by your reckoning-this was a prison planet. The broken dome was once unbroken, and there was a greater need of terraforming technology as well as security systems. We still need security systems to operate as a Ja'in base, of course, but our requirements are somewhat different from what was necessary to effectively operate a prison."
"Who was imprisoned here?"
Aren shrugged. Kes was following him-Aren led, courteously, so that if she stumbled, he might break her fall-and the gesture drew attention to the strange knobby formations in the upper part of his back. In the dim lighting, even the slight protuberances cast shadows. Generally, Aren was careful not to turn his back on her. He seemed sensitive about letting her see the deformity. Now, though, he had no choice, and Kes looked her fill, wondering what they were and why he seemed