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“And I’ve never heard of complex life forming so close to a white dwarf,” Harry countered. “This can’t be a coincidence.”

“Begin your investigation with that theory, Harry,” Janeway said. “You and Seven start working on the problem in astrometrics. I’ll join you after I greet our guests.” She turned to Chakotay and Neelix. “Gentlemen, I’m going to put you in charge of the Monorhans. Find out what you can from them. Be diplomatic, unless diplomacy isn’t getting you anywhere. Then…be less diplomatic.”

“Understood,” Chakotay said.

“Tuvok, I want you to continue monitoring their drive section and the containers. If you start to see problems with life support, get repair crews over there. Ask Captain Ziv if you can beforehand, but if a disaster is about to occur, don’t wait.”

Tuvok nodded.

“Captain?”

“Yes, B’Elanna?”

“You told Captain Ziv we might be able to give him a tow.”

“Yes.”

“Have you considered what trying to move something that big might do to our engines, to the tractor beams?”

“I didn’t say everything all at one time, B’Elanna.”

“But still, Captain,” B’Elanna said, rising to her feet, her tone sharpening, “I think you need to rethink…”

“Stand down, Lieutenant,” Chakotay snapped. Then, more softly, he continued, “We can discuss this later.”

The corner of Torres’s eye twitched, but she slowly sat back down in her chair. “Yes, Commander. Sorry, Captain.”

Janeway smiled softly. “Not necessary, B’Elanna. I’m not worried. I would never promise anything I didn’t think you could deliver.”

B’Elanna nodded, but Janeway could see from her demeanor that the engineer wasn’t convinced. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for a discussion now. As a concession, she offered, “I’ll drop by engineering later and we can spec out some options. All right?”

Torres nodded again, but this time the lines around her mouth were smoothed out.

“Any more questions?” Janeway asked. “No? Then, go to work.”

Chapter 3

Disaster minus 244 minutes

Captain Ziv was pleased with how quickly his hara had coordinated their activities, both on the ship and in the shuttle. In times of extreme stress, even the most disciplined group found it difficult to maintain a link, but the bond between Ziv the harat and his four haran remained strong. After strapping himself into the uncomfortable shuttle seat, Ziv folded his arms, closed his eyes, and felt peace descend as his companions fell to their assigned tasks. The only distraction was the sore on the palm of his hand, which, despite the medic’s ardent attention, still itched and oozed a thin stream of yellow pus. The urge to scratch was almost overpowering.

Beside him in the pilot’s couch, Jara, his second, sat up straight, passed a hand over the control console, nudged the thruster lever, and guided the tiny craft out of its slip. Ziv pressed his chin against his chest as the shuttle nosed into space. He disliked traveling in small ships. Cramped confines were troubling to most Monorhans, especially those with more than three in their hara.

The proximity sensor told Jara that he was clear of the slip. Jara fed the directional thrusters a small burst, and the shuttle lurched forward with a sputter. Rattling his tongue against his palate in annoyance, Jara muttered, “I’m out of practice.”

“We have to wonder about your determination to collide with the stranger’s ship,” Ziv remarked, for it had been Jara at the pilot’s console when the alien vessel appeared from out of nowhere. “If you try again, they might think we do not like them.” Behind them, Mol, Diro, and Shet all clicked with amusement. Jara popped his tongue against his cheek—a rude sound in such a small place, but acceptable given his rank, both as an officer and in the hara.

Moving out of the shadow of the transport’s hull, Ziv found himself thinking about the thousands of souls packed into the ship’s containers. Had his announcement that they had temporarily halted made its way down into the deeper recesses? More important, would