String Theory_ Cohesion (Book 1) - Jeffrey Lang [113]
“Their Monorhan guest is a little worse for wear,” Chakotay continued, “and the transporter chief says Seven and B’Elanna are acting very odd.”
“Odd?” Kathryn asked. “Odd how?”
“They’re completing each other’s sentences,” he says. “And Seven was cursing the transporter.”
“I’d better go down there,” she said, and rose.
“What you’d better do,” Chakotay said softly, rising beside her, “is go to your quarters and get some sleep. The crisis is over. Now we need a few hours to pick up the pieces before we decide what to do next.”
“And I need to talk to the Emergency Council,” the captain protested, walking toward the turbolift, “to find out what they thought they were doing…”
Chakotay paced her step for step and pitched his voice low enough that no one else could hear them, but there was no mistaking the urgency in his tone. “What you need to do is go to your quarters and turn off the comm. Eight hours of sleep, Captain, or I tell the Doctor to order you.”
“We don’t have a doctor currently, Commander.”
“Then I’ll appoint myself chief medical officer and order you myself.”
Kathryn frowned, and Chakotay worried for a moment that he was going to have to engage in a battle of wills—something he preferred to avoid, seeing as he was as tired as the captain. Then her combadge piped. “Sickbay to Captain Janeway.” The voice was familiar, if not the confused tone.
Kathryn smiled. “Go ahead, Doctor. We’ve missed you. Well, parts of you.”
“What happened to me, Captain?”
“Let’s discuss that later,” Chakotay interrupted. “After you go down to the transporter room and see to Seven and B’Elanna.”
“Ah, they’re back, then. Are we free of the fold?”
“We’re not sure exactly what happened yet, Doctor. I’ll be convening a meeting…” The muscle under Kathryn’s right eye twitched and she reached up to wearily rub at the tired muscle. Seeming to realize what she was doing, the captain lowered her hand and stared at it thoughtfully for a beat. “After I’ve rested,” she said softly. “After we’ve all rested.”
“An excellent plan, Captain. Sickbay out.”
Looking up at Chakotay, Kathryn asked, “Would you object if I at least stopped by sickbay on the way to my cabin to see how B’Elanna and Seven are doing?”
“Do you really want to hear Seven cursing?”
“I confess I’m curious.”
Chakotay considered the option. “Come to think of it, so am I.”
Kathryn turned back to the bridge, scanned to see who was on duty, and finally said, “Mr. Paris, the bridge is yours.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“When Tuvok returns, tell him he’s to relieve you so you can visit…” Kathryn stopped then, and Chakotay saw a look in her eyes that he knew meant, No, wait. Tuvok would never believe that…Instead, she tapped her combadge and said, “Janeway to Tuvok.”
Three seconds of silence passed, two of which felt perfectly normal, but the last seemed like an eternity.
“Janeway to Tuvok,” Kathryn repeated.
Another three seconds passed, and then a voice came over the comm. “Captain Janeway, this is Kim. Tuvok is on his way to sickbay.”
“On my way, Harry.”
Chakotay sighed and followed his captain, thinking, No rest for the weary.
Kaytok appreciated how everything on the Voyagers’ vessel smelled clean. Unfortunately, this pleasure led him to wonder what these well-scrubbed others must think of his own scent. His experiences of the past several minutes—free fall followed by dematerialization—had not helped the situation. Perhaps if he asked politely, there would be time for a bath later.
For now, though, Kaytok was content to follow Seven and B’Elanna (still speaking in overlapping sentences) through the wide, antiseptic corridors, in and then out of tiny, humming elevators, to the sickbay. Their guide, a roundish, hairy fellow, informed Kaytok that there would be a surprise waiting for him at journey’s end. Kaytok hoped it was a hot meal.
It was not. Three Monorhans dressed in