Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [60]
Seven of nine will remain on board and continue her efforts to somehow understand and deactivate this weapon. The Doctor is providing security. Chakotay has the ship, and Tuvok, Neelix, and I will beam down for this Tribute.
I hope it's not too riotous a celebration.
Janeway grimaced at the sheer volume of all the excited, babbling voices. Any hope she might have had for a quiet, respectful observance had been dashed the moment they materialized on the planet.
"I love a good party," enthused Neelix, rubbing his hands together.
"The Lhiaarians are such thorough bureaucrats that when they have a chance to relax and celebrate, they really enjoy it."
"I wish you'd thought to tell me that before," said
Janeway, grunting as a large reptilian body was jostled hard against her and then pulled away by the swell of the crowd.
Neelix looked hurt. "I sent you a full report yesterday, neatly entered in a padd, as per regulations."
"Sorry," said Janeway. "Guess I've been a little busy uncovering assassination plots and mind tricks."
"According to the information the Lhiaarian officials sent us," said Tuvok, "the Central Octagon, where the highlights of Tribute are being staged, is located half a kilometer in this direction. We are to arrive at the Southeast Gate, where Xanarit will greet US."
"Then let's go," said Janeway, unconsciously ducking her head as if to physically plow through the uncomfortable press of people. She wondered if anywhere in this vast Lhiaarian Empire there was a deserted planet-every place they'd stopped on this trek had been uncomfortably crowded.
Then she thought of Skeda, and remorse and anger flooded her. Murder wasn't the answer, though Tamaak might think so. But neither was sitting by and doing nothing. Janeway hoped desperately that she could make a difference. She realized that by confronting the Emperor in this matter, she might be sentencing her crew to the long way around Lhiaarian space, if not something worse. But she thought of young Priana, and the littlest Skedans, still sleeping in their mothers' pouches, and knew that there was, really, no choice at all.
It seemed to take forever to struggle down the crowded street, but finally they reached the meeting place. The Southeast Gate was huge and painted a bright blue color.
Janeway put its age at several centuries, judging by the large amount of organic material.
"While the Lhiaarians do pride themselves on having the best and most advanced technology available to them," said Neelix, sounding like a travel guide, "the Central Octagon, where nearly all formal ceremonies are held, hasn't changed in over six hundred years. Routine repair work is of course performed and-" "Neelix," said Janeway. She didn't have to say anything more.
They waited, as they had been told. Each second that ticked away was one more second in which Janeway could brood on what she was about to do, once she did indeed meet the Emperor face to face.
When it was action that was required, Janeway was not one to postpone it, and this enforced period of waiting chafed at her.
"Captain Janeway," came a smooth, cultured voice. Janeway turned to see the familiar Lhiaarian visage-blue face-scales, black tongue, large eyes. "I am Xanarit. We spoke earlier. I must apologize for my tardiness. The sheer volume of those who have come to honor His Most Excellent Worthiness delayed me. I hope you have not been waiting long?"
"Not too long," Janeway replied. "When will we be able to have our private audience?"
Xanarit