Pathways - Jeri Taylor [40]
And then he realized he was looking at a young woman, barely more than a girl, who was staring up at him with terrified eyes. “Don’t hurt me,” she breathed.
Harry instantly leapt off her, and had time only to notice that she had hair as black as his own, a heart-shaped face, and unusual eyes that flashed with a strange color which he couldn’t clearly make out in the darkness. And then she was gone, springing up and scrambling off like a wild animal suddenly set free.
That brief glimpse of her face haunted him for the rest of the wakeful night.
“Let’s go. Everybody up.” Chakotay’s voice knifed through Harry’s sleep like a cleaver. Harry realized he had finally fallen asleep, and deeply, only now to be roused by his commander. He opened scratchy eyes to the bright glare of the sun and realized the air was already baking hotly. His mouth was cottony.
“There are things we need,” continued Chakotay when everyone had shaken off sleep and was sitting or standing. “Containers for storing water. Materials to build shelter. Fuel for fires. It’s usually possible to barter in a place like this. I’d suggest you offer your jacket or your undershirt. If you give away your shoes you might be in trouble.”
“What about our combadges?” asked B’Elanna.
“Some of us can offer combadges, but I don’t want to lose more than two or three. I’m not sure they’d be as desirable as good clothing, anyway.”
Tuvok joined in. “No one should venture off alone. No fewer than two people in a group, preferably three or four.”
And so they set out for their first full day in the place their captors called Area 347, but which the Voyager crew quickly dubbed Hellhole. Harry moved out in a group that included B’Elanna and her young Vulcan engineer, Vorik. Harry didn’t tell anyone, but he had a double agenda on this day: bartering for the items they needed—and finding the young woman who had crept up to him last night.
It was Vorik who first succeeded in trading with other prisoners. He approached a seedy gathering of small, gnomelike creatures who had built a rather sizable lean-to and seemed to have any number of pots and pans and other artifacts strewn around their area.
“My jacket is made of synthetic polyfibers which provide insulation against both heat and cold. It is of superior construction and can be expected to hold up against the harshest elements, as well as resisting wear and tear for some time to come. It is stain-resistant and can be rolled up to become quite a comfortable pillow, as I can attest after last night.”
The wizened little beings stared at him, openmouthed. Vorik’s unflappable Vulcan presence seemed to mesmerize them. He stripped off the jacket and held it out in front of him. “I will accept fuel, containers for liquid, or any building materials you might possess.”
Ten minutes later they walked off with an armful of jars and pitchers, a large tarpaulin, and four squares of dried dung to use as fuel. It was a good beginning. But even after each of them had managed to trade, and they carried their booty back to camp, Harry had yet to spot the young woman from the night before. The likelihood of finding, among these thousands, one person he’d only glimpsed in the light of a flickering fire was, he admitted, remote. But he suspected that she must not have been far from the place they made camp, and if he kept looking, he might find her.
The away team’s morning was a successful one, and the afternoon was spent constructing two shelters which, while not luxurious, were large enough to accommodate them all and offer protection from the elements. When Chakotay asked for volunteers to fill the water containers, Harry was first in line. Something inside him said he would find her during this foray.
He almost missed her. She was huddled on the ground, back against a tree stump some ten meters in front of the muddy marsh, knees drawn up to her face, head bowed. She was dressed in a kind of caftan,