Pathways - Jeri Taylor [241]
When he rematerialized he began screaming. A pain so excruciating he thought he might lose consciousness was searing his right foot, and he couldn’t move. Desperately, he fought against the pain, forced himself to stay conscious even as nausea welled in him.
His right foot, with which he had stepped forward at the moment of transport, had rematerialized inside the rock wall of the chamber, crushing the bones of the foot.
Harry gasped for air and switched on the small hand beacon they’d constructed from parts Neelix had cadged. Perspiring heavily, chilled, fighting nausea, Harry set the transporter to beam him out again, back a bit farther in the dank chamber. He was able to key the controls just before he blacked out from the pain.
He came to on the floor, with Chakotay’s voice coming over his combadge. “Harry! Harry, answer me! Do you read me?”
Groggy, pain-riddled, Harry struggled to a sitting position. “I’m here, Commander,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Did something go wrong?”
“No, it’s fine. Start sending people down.”
“Tuvok will be first.”
Harry glanced around the chamber and realized he’d have to be standing if two people were to fit here. It was a rectangular space no more than a meter across at its widest point. Painfully, his right foot throbbing, he pulled himself upright on his other foot.
For a moment he was afraid he was going to pass out again, but he bit his lip until it bled, and his head cleared. In the next instant, Tuvok materialized in front of him.
“Okay, sir,” he rasped, “I’m putting you outside the wall, about three hundred meters into the forest.” He began working the transporter controls.
“Ensign, have you been injured—” Tuvok began, but he was gone before he could complete the sentence. Seconds later, his voice over the combadge announced that he was successfully in the forest, well outside the walls of the prison camp.
Harry found another part of his lip and bit down again. This was going to be a long night.
Above, in the shelter, Chakotay announced the order of descent: “Seven, Tom, Gabrielle, Neelix, Coris, Brad . . .” As he spoke, everyone was aware of the increasing hubbub outside. Coris sneaked to the opening and peered out as a clamor of shouting erupted, punctuated occasionally by screams.
“They’re getting close. But they must’ve found something illegal in someone else’s shelter. They’re punishing people—burning them with the acid that comes from their tentacles.”
Chakotay remembered vividly what that felt like, and felt sorry for the poor wretches who were suffering it now. But he had to stay focused on the current task. “Keep going, B’Elanna. Send them as quickly as it’s safe.”
Seven was dispatched, and moments later, Tom. The others were lining up in an ordered and disciplined fashion, even though worry was etched on their faces.
Gabrielle Allyn dematerialized. Then Neelix, his spots pronounced against a pale face.
“Coris, you’re next,” said Chakotay, looking around for the small girl.
Coris wasn’t there.
• • •
Coris of Saccul moved with purpose through the crowded camp, circling around to come at them in a direction different from that of the Voyager shelters.
For once in her life, she would accomplish something. It had been an undistinguished life so far, noted mostly for its misery and disappointments, but a tiny flame of determination was burning in her now and she fanned it eagerly.
Finally she understood some of the things her mother’s mother had told her when she was small. Her beloved Gammi, the only creature on Saccul that cared whether she lived or died, who had taken her in when her own mother had abandoned her, choosing instead to become a camp follower, lying with soldiers in return for crumbs of bread and spoons of soup.
Once, Coris had dreamed of grand and