Pathways - Jeri Taylor [244]
Then the pain returned, and she heard the wild cry of the camp’s klaxons, and she realized she wasn’t dead after all. She opened her eyes and looked up into the dark face of Tassot Bnay, who was carrying her in his arms as easily as if she were a rag doll.
“We will put salve on your wounds,” he announced. “There may be some scarring, but it will be minimal.”
Coris absorbed this information dispassionately. Only one thing mattered to her. “Did the Voyagers get away?” she asked in a voice hoarse from screaming.
“They are no longer in the camp. Whether they will succeed in their escape or not is uncertain. The Subu have apparently decided to pursue them.”
Coris subsided into silence, finding comfort in the gentle jostling of Tassot Bnay’s gait. She felt secure in his arms, protected. She had given of herself to help the Voyagers, and now she in turn was being aided. There was a justness to the situation that pleased her, and at that moment she knew life could be led nobly, even under the most brutal and callous of conditions, and that from this time forward, that is how she would live.
“Good luck, Harry,” she whispered to herself, and then gave herself over to the comfort of Bnay’s strong arms.
Chakotay and his crew had been moving through the forest for only a few minutes when they heard the sound of the klaxons. It was an ominous, alien noise, which rent the stillness of the night in a primeval way, like the trumpet of some ancient, extinct behemoth.
The sound was so startling that they all stopped for a moment, listening, but Chakotay exhorted them forward. “Move,” he hissed. “We have to keep going.”
A few minutes later they saw the lights of hovercraft far overhead, obscured by the thick canopy of trees, and then the powerful beams of searchlights swept by. Chakotay knew that it would be difficult for the beams to penetrate the trees and unless they emerged into a clearing they should escape detection. But it was unnerving, nonetheless.
On they plunged, Chakotay trusting the strange pull of the signal more completely now. Tuvok was still carrying Harry, who was nearly unconscious. He’d hung on until his job was done, in spite of the excruciating pain, and he couldn’t fight it any longer.
“Are you doing all right?” Chakotay asked Tuvok.
“I’m fine, Commander,” Tuvok replied, but Chakotay sensed the effort in his voice. Vulcans were strong, but he couldn’t be expected to carry a strapping young man indefinitely.
And then they saw the lights of the vehicles.
They were antigrav units, skimming through the woods with deftness and speed, powerful searchlights plying the darkness like giant fireflies. There would be no canopy protecting them from the beams of those lights.
The vehicles were still in the distance, moving in seemingly random patterns through the woods. Did they have sensors? If so, they could surely detect fifteen people hurrying through the forest. But strangely, the vehicles weren’t headed directly for them, but were circling, hunting, clearly unaware of their location.
They heard the next obstacle long before they saw it. At first it was barely perceptible, a soft rumble like the lowest notes of a bass viol. But as they moved foward the rumble became louder and more foreboding. A dampness pervaded the air and the temperature dropped still further, producing a clammy cold. What was ahead of them?
Chakotay moved unerringly in the direction of the noise, knowing instinctively that it was their destination, but without knowledge of what, exactly, it was.
Louder and louder was the sound, beyond a rumble now, a great growling as though thousands of cannons were detonating simultaneously and continuously. A mist was swirling in the air, wetting them, becoming thicker as they moved forward until finally they felt as though they were walking through a cold shower.
Behind them, Chakotay noticed that the lights of the vehicles seemed to have stopped hunting randomly and were