String Theory_ Cohesion (Book 1) - Jeffrey Lang [73]
Tuvok said, “Ensign Platt is dead.”
Melissa Platt had been one of Chakotay’s, a Maquis who been drawn to the group on ideological grounds. A student at Mars University, she had been so incensed by the plight of the Juhrayan colonists that she had quit school to join the Maquis. Though she had been too physically timid to help in armed conflicts, Chakotay had been glad to have her in his group because Melissa had been one of the warmest, most caring individuals he had ever met. Also, she had shown an uncanny knack for repairing weapons systems, likely born out of the same patience and attention to detail that had made her a first-rate student. Tuvok often told Chakotay that he had been glad to have Platt in security. Some altercations were better addressed with a quiet word than a phaser set on stun.
“What happened to her?” Kathryn asked.
“She walked into a doorway expecting the door to open for her. It did not, though it was temporarily immaterial when our shields dropped.”
Chakotay closed his eyes, not wanting to picture what must have happened next. Kathryn said, “And then the shields went back up.”
“Yes,” Tuvok said. “If it is any consolation, the Doctor said she died instantaneously.”
Kathryn nodded, her face ashen with grief and anger. “All right. See that her body is put into stasis so we can have a service when we’re clear of subspace.”
Tuvok cleared his throat, then continued. “They are having some trouble recovering the body. I told them to simply cut away the door and put Ensign Platt in a closed casket.”
“Oh, God,” Kathryn said softly, then gripped the edge of her desk and stood for several seconds with her eyes tightly shut, her chest rising and falling sharply. When her breathing calmed, she opened her eyes and Chakotay saw they were once again clear and filled with a fierce, cold light. “All right, Tuvok. You did the right thing. Thank you.”
Tuvok nodded, spun on his heel, and paced to the door. Stopping a centimeter short of the electric eye, the Vulcan turned and looked back over his shoulder at his commanding officer. “Captain, I would be remiss if I did not point out that the next time this happens, it could be a primary bulkhead or a section of hull containing an energy main.”
“I understand, Tuvok.”
Tuvok hesitated for only a moment, as if he had something else to say, but then nodded once and exited. When Chakotay turned back to Kathryn, she said, her voice full of iron, “Come with me to astrometrics. I think we’ve found a way out.”
Ziv stood with his head thrown back, his arms straight at his sides, his wide nostrils flaring in anger. “I cannot believe,” he said, “that you would shame me—that you would shame all of us—in such a manner.” His hara stood arrayed around him like sheets of polished steel around a fire, his rage reflected back and increased a hundredfold.
Sem dismissed them all with a wave of her slender hand. “These Voyagers do not understand shame, Captain, at least not in any meaningful way.”
“I am pleased to see that some things never change,” Ziv said scornfully. “Quick judgments with no real understanding of what you dismiss. Have you seen nothing? Don’t you understand the power these people wield?”
“They have power,” Sem said, gliding gracefully to the large window. “I’ll grant you that, but they don’t understand how to wield it. Else why would they have put themselves in this predicament?”
“Because they are good,” Diro said, unasked. It was a terrible breach of etiquette for the youngest to speak, but Ziv allowed it because it was as if his haran had read his harat’s thoughts. “They seek no gain for aiding us other than the knowledge that if they had done otherwise, it would have lessened us all.”
Sem stared at Diro incredulously, as if a piece of furniture had suddenly begun