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Pointing at the blue glow the windows emitted, Diro asked, “Did the forcefields protect us? Or was it all just chance?”

“No,” Ziv said with certainty. “I refuse to believe that. I chose to believe we were spared for a reason. We must return to Monorha, tell the rih-hara-tan what we have seen, and hope that these miracle workers, these Voyagers, can aid us.”

“And if not?”

Ziv shrugged, his eloquence at an end. “Then consider this question when your end comes: Would you like to see it coming or not?”

Turning back to the window, Diro stared long into the darkness between the stars, searching for an answer.

Chapter 6

“Can the shields take it, Tuvok?”

Tuvok knew the answer to Captain Janeway’s question, but hesitated to give it too quickly. Tuvok had long ago learned that with humans one could not simply dispense information, especially when the answers carried so much emotional weight.

He knew precisely how much radiation the white dwarf would produce, assuming the readings he had been taking over the past several hours were an accurate baseline. He also knew how much punishment Voyager’s shields could take, and that those shields could survive many hours of exposure, assuming nothing else changed. But there was the problem: Conditions rarely remained constant.

And so a moment’s hesitation seemed a sensible precaution. Captain Janeway would remember this later and factor her tactical officer’s reluctance into her decisions. He looked out over the top of his station at the officers clustered around him—the captain, Chakotay, Kim, Torres, and the Doctor—and considered releasing a scowl. Holding a meeting on the bridge, while not a security risk, might mean that those who did not currently need to would hear certain facts better left uncirculated. He understood the captain’s motivations: Staying on the bridge meant she could respond quickly to an evolving situation. Staying close to her ready room was both respectful of their guests and prudent. While overall he was impressed with the Monorhans, he could not know what their guests might do when they recovered from the shock of watching thousands of their people wiped from existence so suddenly.

“Taking readings from the white dwarf has been difficult, but I believe we have captured enough data to make reasonable assumptions about its behavior. Despite the significant output of X-rays and other forms of hard radiation, we are not currently in any danger.”

“But as a precaution,” the Doctor inserted, “I recommend a course of hyronalin for everyone on board. It will protect the crew from the worst of the radiation damage if the shields should fail.”

“Very good, Doctor. Chakotay, inform all hands.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Doctor,” Torres asked. “What about the Monorhans?”

“What about them, B’Elanna?”

“Are you going to give them the treatment, too? Their sores—those are caused by the radiation, aren’t they?”

“They are,” the Doctor said. “But the damage is far beyond anything that could be cured with a simple hyronalin treatment.” He shook his head remorsefully. “Of course I can help them—I will help them—but what will happen to them when we return them to Monorha? We don’t have the resources to treat an entire planetary population.” He looked at the captain. “Do we?”

“Not the symptoms,” Captain Janeway said. “But perhaps the cause. We’ll know more when we reach the planet and can study the white dwarf at closer range.”

The group began to disperse, each returning to his duties. The door to the captain’s ready room opened, and Captain Ziv and his associates shambled out, then settled into the now familiar wedge formation. “Have you been able to contact my rih-hara-tan, Captain?”

“Not yet, Captain. Conditions in this area are very unusual. We have just now decided our ship’s shields can withstand the radiation from the white dwarf and so we will be pressing ahead at higher speed.”

The hara exchanged glances and a quick burst of burbling clicks. Finally, Ziv turned back to the captain and said, “On several occasions you have made reference to a ‘white dwarf,