Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [57]
"Beauty is irrelevant," said Seven of Nine.
"I must concur," said Tuvok.
Janeway gave them both a wry grin. "Wet blankets, the both of you.
But regardless of its beauty, you must admit it's amazing to think that the Skedans have the ability to create an energy field around an object simply with the power of their minds."
"It is," said Tuvok, somewhat reluctantly, "fascinating."
There was a hum. All of them turned to see the shape of Tamaak materializing in sickbay. Seven was surprised, then realized what the Doctor had done.
An intraship transport would ensure that their reluctant "guest" would arrive where and when he was supposed to.
Tamaak looked-deflated. He stepped forward, his whole body crying defeat. "You wished to see me, Captain."
"I did." Janeway pointed to the orb. "Tell me about this weapon, how it functions, what its impact would be."
Tamaak lifted a slender head on a long neck and regarded Janeway impassively. "I regret it, but I cannot oblige you, Captain Janeway.
Priana and Shemaak were right to stop Imraak from injuring you, Seven of Nine. I am sorry for what we put you through. Please believe me when I say I had no idea that Imraak had sent such-such evil instructions. I am glad you had the strength of will to resist. I have no desire to hurt or kill any of your crew, Captain.
But I will not help you. Our ultimate purpose for surviving this long, for coming all this way, must be honored."
Janeway's patience had clearly worn thin. "You know I grieve for your people. You know I abhor what the Emperor did. And I will keep my promise-to bring this crime to light so that Beytek will be judged.
But I won't sanction the killing of innocents."
Tamaak's expression was unreadable. "We all must follow our own paths, Captain." And that was all he would say on the matter.
"So," said Janeway, "I can't trust you, then, can I?"
Tamaak Vrs, leader of a dying people, victim of treachery and Seven of Nine's personal tormentor, looked her squarely in the eye.
"No," he said, softly. "In every sense of the word."
CHAOS REIGNED IN the IMPERIAL DomiciLE. IT WAS THE Day of Tribute and Xanarit could barely squeeze past the throngs of security, entertainers, petitioners, and other assorted visitors en route to his meeting with the lora and Beytek. Thousands had come and filled the streets to overflowing.
Xanarit was nervous, and his traitorous eyesacs betrayed that nervousness. Fortunately, if anyone noticed it, it would be attributed to the normal excitement the day usually engendered. Still, he wished his people did not possess such a telltale sign of their emotions.
The guards nodded and waved him past each level until he had reached the private "inner sanctum" of rooms reserved for the lora and the Emperor. He breathed a deep sigh; the press of people had added to his agitation.
As usual, all the members of the lora had assembled before the Emperor deigned to grace them with his divine presence, despite the delays in reaching the Imperial Domicile. The by-now familiar sound of the musicians heralded his approach, and Xanarit bowed his head respectfully with the rest as his Emperor entered and ascended to his perch.
For once, though, the Emperor did not partake of the sweets and fruits provided for his refreshment. He ignored them utterly, and gazed benevolently down at his advisory council as might a father regarding favored children.
"You have served me well, my lora," he said, beaming. The members of the group so lauded shifted their weight and cast uneasy glances among themselves. Emperor Beytek never praised them, except on the rarest of occasions, and only then when his ego had been stroked. This unsolicited enthusiasm was unprecedented.
"Today is Tribute. The most wonderful holiday in the Empire, where every inhabited world shows how pleased they are to be considered a part of the Lhiaarian Empire-the greatest empire in the galaxy.
All of my plans, carried out by you, my dear and hardworking