Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [23]
They were bipedal, with a long, counterbalancing tail.
Perhaps most interesting were their faces-covered with small blue scales with sacs around their eyes that revealed their emotions.
That's handy for negotiating, thought Janeway. Especially for someone who's a petty bureaucrat, tucked away here on the fringe of the Empire.
"Stationmaster Vooria," said Janeway, fighting to keep her voice calm and diplomatic. "I'm hoping you could tell me who has decided to interrupt our important negotiations by firing without cause on my vessel."
Vooria's eyesacs were bright crimson. For an instant, Janeway thought the Lhiaarian merely annoyed, but the minute Vooria spoke Janeway realized that the stationmaster was terrified.
"Whatever it is they want," Vooria said in a voice that quivered, "do it. Immediately."
"Why?" demanded Janeway, rising and striding down toward the viewscreen.
"That does not concern you." Stationmaster Vooria's efforts to sublimate her terror only made her fear that much more obvious.
"Phrase of the day," nuttered Paris.
Janeway was furious but she continued to smile.
Their enemy fired again. She stumbled but recovered her balance almost immediately.
"The attacking vessel has demanded we turn over the Skedans. Tamaak Vrs and his people came to us for aid, and in turn they have helped us.
They've been the perfect guests and have harmed no one on this vessel.
That's more than I can say for you or the people who are attacking us."
The smile, soft and gentle, vanished. "They remain here."
"If you wish to survive," said Vooria in that same strained, choked voice, "do what they say. Then get out of Imperial space. Or stay here and die. Either way, we will have nothing more to do with you."
Vooria reached out a clawed hand and slammed it down on the panel in front of her.
Janeway was surprised by the depth of her anger.
She thought of Tamaak, of the friendliness of his people, of the endearing faces of the young ones. Turn them over to those oversized bugs for who knew what reason? Not while she still had breath in her body.
"Shields down thirty percent," said Chakotay.
"Our phasers appear to be inflicting only minimal damage."
The point was illustrated an instant later when Voyager fired on her opponent, struck dead on, and the ship veered off in an arrogant, elegant swoop. It circled back and charged, its weapons firing. The pulsing red light flickered for an instant, then the emergency lighting went on.
"Captain," Tomes called from Engineering. "That last one almost knocked the warp engines off-line.
What's going on up there?"
"Captain," said Chakotay, "we're no longer welcome here by either party. I suggest we- "Get the hell out of Dodge," Janeway finished grimly. "I think you're right. B'Elanna, keep those engines on-line-I'll be asking for warp eight, bearing eight-five-seven-two.
Tom, do it."
"Yes ma'am," replied Paris immediately. At once the ship executed a roll and then leaped into warp.
Mentally, Janeway reviewed their situation. It wasn't good. They were on the run now, with two sets of enemies behind them and no explanation as to why. At this bearing, they were making a beeline for the next closest Lhiaarian waystation. If Voyager could get there ahead of her pursuers, she might have a chance of figuring out what exactly was going on.
Janeway glanced over at Chakotay and smiled a little. "This feel a bit familiar?"
"Just like old times," he smiled back at her.
The captain thumbed a button. "This is Captain Janeway to all crew members. We have encountered hostility at this waystation and are presently on course to the next one in an attempt to straighten out a misunderstanding.