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Checking his status board, Dayrit said, “Yes, sir. The cargo bay’s secure—and there’s a black box sitting on the deck near the hole in the wall.”

“Good. You have the bridge. C’mon, Dina,” DeSoto said, moving toward the turbolift. “Let’s see if he really did leave us a message.”

Within minutes, they arrived in the cargo bay. DeSoto tried not to look at the big hole in the hull that made it look like the bay was exposed to space. Right now, a forcefield was all that kept that look from being the truth.

Two of Dayrit’s people, Weiss and Hayat, were also present, going over the room with tricorders.

Weiss said, “It’s all secure, sir—but, uh, there’s something attached to the artifact.”

“Looks like some kind of mini-transponder,” Hayat added.

“Is that what it is?” Weiss frowned. “I’m reading a solenoid transtator. Who the hell still uses transtators?”

Voyskunsky’s wide smile split her face. “Maquis who have to scrounge for parts.” She knelt down by the artifact and found a small, flat, circular object no more than a centimeter in diameter. It came off the black box with no difficulty.

Hayat’s eyes widened. “I’m reading an ODN chip in there.”

“How much you want to bet that’s Tuvok’s message?” Voyskunsky said with her trademark smile.

DeSoto returned the smile. “No bet.”

As they turned to leave, the artifact suddenly gave off a brief discharge of green light. DeSoto had to blink spots out of his eyes. “Report,” he quickly said.

Both Weiss and Hayat examined their tricorders. “No indication of anything harmful, Captain,” Weiss said.

“But the artifact’s now reading inert,” Hayat added.

Voyskunsky indicated the artifact with an inclination of her head. “Look, it’s not glowing anymore, either. Just a plain black box.” She scratched her chin. “Come to think of it, I think the same thing happened to the other two after they were separated from their users. But there wasn’t anything in the records about ill effects suffered by the people involved with their mission.”

Blowing out a breath, DeSoto said, “Probably just some kind of shutdown procedure.” To the security guards, he said, “Stow that thing somewhere safe.” Then, to his first officer, he said, “C’mon, Dina, let’s see what Mr. Tuvok has to say.”

Chapter Nine

CAL HUDSON FOUND CHAKOTAY SITTING in the mess hall of the Liberator. He was nursing a cup of tea that had gone cold and staring at the bulkhead. Hudson was standing halfway across the room from him, but he could smell the dirt and grime on his clothing even from there.

“I’ve gotten a request from the crew, Chakotay,” Hudson said after a moment. “They’ve asked me to drag you—kicking and screaming, if necessary—to the cargo deck so you can get out a change of clothes.”

Chakotay shook his head, as if coming out of a daze, and looked over at Hudson. “I’m sorry?”

“Your clothes, Chakotay. You haven’t changed since we beamed up from Slaybis. And, after the multiple weather offerings we got, the ones you’re wearing are pretty ripe. People want to eat in here, but thanks to you, they walk right out with a lost appetite.”

“I’m—I’m sorry, I’ll change, of course. It, ah—it hasn’t been at the top of my list.”

Hudson smiled. “Wasn’t at the top of mine, either. But then, I was unconscious. Last thing I remember was a piece of wall falling on my head—then I’m lying on my bunk with a bandage on my head.” His hand involuntarily went up to the electronic bandage that still sat over the wound the debris had made when the lightning had shattered part of the building on Slaybis.

“That’s a better excuse than mine,” Chakotay said with a small smile.

“I’m not so sure about that. I assume you’re thinking about Tharia.”

Chakotay snorted. “Gee, how’d you guess?”

Deciding to brave the olfactory gauntlet, Hudson walked across the mess hall and sat across from Chakotay. The smell was almost overpowering, and Hudson wondered how Chakotay could stand it.

“I keep going over what happened in my head,” Chakotay said, “trying to figure out some way