The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [15]
“Just doing my job.” His face blipped out.
Janeway leaned back in her chair, then rose to get a pot of coffee brewing. As the delicious aroma filled her apartment, she returned to her computer. “Computer, call up records for Dr. Kaz, Jarem.”
She perused his official file and was impressed by what she saw. He had told her the truth about two of his symbiont’s histories. One, Radara Kaz, had indeed been a hugely popular and greatly honored poet. Janeway had even read some of her works. A phrase from one of Radara’s works floated to her mind:
The Soul flutters on, in torment from its own belief
That it is alone in the vastness of the universe;
But Soul, extend to what you cannot see or sense,
And brush the tentative fingers
Of the Souls reaching blindly
To you.
His Maquis host, Gradak, had been equally as impressive. He had been one of the very few to survive the massacre at Tevlik’s Moonbase, though he hadn’t lived very long after that dreadful incident. Grievously wounded himself, he helped fifteen other injured, including four children, escape in a shuttle, heading [44] straight for the nearest Federation base. Gradak had known they would be captured, but at least they would be alive. Refusing treatment for himself, he brought all his charges to safety. He was unconscious by the time a Federation starship took them aboard, and died on the operating table. Fortunately, the symbiont was successfully transplanted in time to the only Trill aboard the ship, who happened to be one of the doctors. Jarem Kaz.
Jarem himself was no slouch, either. He had a mind that liked a challenge and had developed a vaccine for Lhaj Fever in his “spare time,” according to the records. Lhaj Fever was rare but 97 percent fatal. The vaccine would save thousands on developing worlds. Even before he had been given the Kaz symbiont, he had been on record as speaking out against the Cardassians, although there had been no sign of any action on his part. His captain had been sorry to see him go, but acknowledged that Starfleet needed Kaz’s skill, intelligence, and compassion elsewhere.
It was the last quality that intrigued Janeway most. According to both Seven and Icheb, Kaz was indeed compassionate. She’d seen his caring and intensity for herself.
Looking at the handsome face on the screen, she said aloud, “I do hope I can trust you, Doctor.”
They ordered their coffees to go and strolled along Santa Barbara’s quaint downtown area. For a while, they simply shared pleasantries and idle chitchat. Their meandering steps took them down to the beach. It was a gorgeous day. The sky was an intense blue, interrupted only by the wheeling of gray-and-white seagulls.
[45] Finally, Janeway broached the subject. “Flattered as I am to think that you sought me out for my sparkling conversation, Dr. Kaz, I suspect that’s not really the case.”
He sipped his coffee and didn’t look at her, his eyes, as blue as the sky, fixed on the ocean. “No, Admiral, it isn’t. I wanted to pass on a warning—and an offer.”
Janeway tensed, but tried not to show it. She, too, sipped her coffee and didn’t look at her companion. “Go on.”
“I have tried repeatedly to convince Montgomery to allow Seven of Nine and Icheb to regenerate. He has refused my request every time. I understand his reasoning, but there are steps we could take to reduce the chance of anyone contacting Seven or Icheb in their regeneration state.” He grimaced. “As if anyone would actually try to contact them. I have done everything I can with medication to simulate the effects of regeneration, but eventually there will be nothing more I can do. The effect on both of them is similar to total sleep deprivation.”
“Which, according to Starfleet regulations, constitutes torture.”
Kaz nodded. “Icheb, remarkably, has been able to get some sleep.”
She turned to him now, pleasure filling her. “Really? That’s wonderful news.”
“Not as wonderful as it seems. He still needs regeneration. Let me get straight to the point: If they are not allowed to regenerate soon,