Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [8]
Directly toward the Lhiarri homeworld, thought Kraa, growing uneasy.
"Their preferred gravity is nine point eight-one T/sen; their air is a mixture of nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide-perfectly breathable for us. This is all I know, Commander. This Observer has reported."
The colored lights blipped and faded. Kraa absently began to clean his left antenna with his first pair of legs, moistening it and scraping it with the occasional nibble from his mandibles. The sensation was pleasant. It soothed him and helped him concentrate.
The difference in gravity would not be a problem.
Centuries ago, interacting with most developed Warms on their native planets would have killed the Tuktak. Under such gravity, most insects remained small. The Tuktak had developed under lower gravity.
On planets where Warms were the dominant intelligent race, the weight of the Tuktak's own exoskeletons would have crushed them.
But that was before they developed technology and learned that they could alter the natural progression of sclerotization. By supplementing their diet with artificially designed proteins, the Tuktak could precisely control the density of their exoskeletons. Kraa had been cultivating a lighter exoskeleton since his last shedding. He and the Tuktak under his command were all able to exist under Warm gravity.
When you could compete with the Warms on their own terms, pursuit and killing became much simpler.
Kraa reached his decision. The vessel designated Voyager had the advantage of lead time, but they would have to stop at the Imperial checkpoints. Such points were well known to Kraa. Having to stop and undergo the tedious process of registration at each checkpoint would slow this interfering Alpha Quadrant vessel greatly.
Eventually, the Tuktak would catch up with them and complete the task they were set: to destroy, at all costs, the Skedans and anyone who knew about them.
He leaned forward, touched the console and sent a message to his crew.
"The Doctor tells me you've been having hallucinations," said Janeway without preamble.
Seven glanced up from the console, met her captain's eyes, and nodded acknowledgment. "That is correct."
"I don't suppose you'd like to talk about it?"
Janeway stepped closer, reached a hand toward Seven's shoulder, then clearly thought better of the gesture.
"No. I do not. I have told the Doctor everything I recall." Her eyes flickered from her rapidly moving fingers to the black bird that sat on the console. It opened its beak and squawked. "Except. .
."Yes?"
When Seven turned to look at her visitor, she saw the second bird had taken up residence on Janeway's shoulder. The captain appeared to notice nothing amiss, just as the Doctor and Harry had been unable to see the birds in sickbay. The third bird hopped busily along the floor, picking at food that was as imaginary as it was.
"The number of birds I am seeing is increasing."
Janeway's brow furrowed in concern. "Do you see them now?"
"Yes. There are three of them. One on the floor, one on the console, and one on your right shoulder."
Seven felt a brief flicker of mirth as Janeway involuntarily started and glanced down at her shoulder. The bird that was perched there stared back at her.
"They are with me constantly. However, I find that I am able to continue working despite their presence.
Much the way that I am able to perform to expectations despite Mr. Kim's occasional behavioral eccentricities."
"Mr. Kim's. .." Janeway shook her head and let the subject drop.
"Seven, I have to tell you, I'm quite concerned about this."
"There is nothing to be concerned about, Captain. I am displaying none of the physical symptoms that occurred previously. My nanoprobes are dormant, and I feel no desire