Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [70]
They were screams, but more than that: they were the shrieks not just of voices, but of the mind and soul. She knew at once without knowing how she knew just what she was listening to: the last sounds and thoughts and feelings of billions of Skedans as they helplessly watched the end of their world.
She curled up on the stage, unable to help herself, and scalding tears of empathy were ripped from her eyes. Janeway couldn't breathe, could only sob helplessly, as caught up in the power of Tamaak's weapon as a fly in a spider's web.
Around her, others reacted in a similar fashion. She had never thought to hear the sound of Tuvok weeping.
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing... wasn't that a tasty dish to set before the king?
Alone of all the thousands witnessing the havoc wrought by Tamaak's weapon, Seven wept with fierce joy. This was what the nursery rhyme meant. This was what the appearance of four and twenty blackbirds had signified. All along, somehow, she had been aware of the presence of the weapon, and of what it would do.
The pie had been opened and the blackbirds were singing indeed, singing with the voices of the most innocent, who had suffered untold agonies.
And it was a tasty dish indeed for the Emperor, who had deliberately and single-handedly caused it all. Everyone present, even those watching on a vidscreen, could hear the cries, mental and physical, of the dying.
But Beytek, alone of all of them, was feeling everything.
Tears from her single true eye coursed down her face. She lifted her head and saw the twenty-four blackbirds wheeling in a tight circle.
Then, one by one in a succession so rapid it took only seconds, Seven felt the people whose memories she had shared depart.
Now she sobbed in pain, in the abrupt sensation of solitude after days of the company of thousands. She was alone, again. The birds flew faster and faster, until they blurred in her tearful vision and coalesced into another shape-the shape of one little girl.
Annika Hansen laughed and twirled delightedly, the skirt of her white dress flying about her like wings.
Her blond curls bobbed, and when she came to a stop, she looked right at Seven of Nine. She smiled, revealing tiny, perfect teeth, placed her hands to her lips, and blew Seven of Nine a kiss.
Then she was gone.
THE SILENCE PRESSED ON JANWAY'S EARS LIKE SOMEthing physical. She felt as though her body weighed a thousand kilos as she struggled to lift her head and brush the hair out of her eyes.
"Beytek," she rasped. Beside her, Tuvok and Neelix struggled to their feet, seemingly as drained as she.
Beytek stood where she had last seen him. He might have been carved from stone, so still was he. His eyes were wide, his mouth still yawning open although now he was frighteningly silent. A thin, silver trail of spittle dripped from his lips. His eyesacs were cold gray.
"Is he dead?" Janeway asked.
Tamaak Vrs, accompanied by Shemaak, stepped into her vision. "No," he replied in a voice that quivered with exhaustion. "But his mind is gone. He may recover in a few years, but for now, he can harm no one further. You heard the deaths of our people, Captain. He experienced it."
An old saying flashed into Janeway's mind: Let the punishment fit the crime. She had wronged Tamaak by believing that he would drag innocents into his revenge. The weapon, which now looked like so much broken glass, had been targeted for one person, that Beytek might experience the same fate that he put billions through.
She still would not have let Tamaak use the weapon, had she known.
Justice needed to be accomplished through legal means, not eye-for-an-eye revenge.
But she couldn't argue with the deep satisfaction she felt in her belly.
Tamaak lifted his hands in a universal gesture of surrender. He turned to Xanarit. "I will take whatever punishment