The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [43]
But Janeway didn’t mention either of those particular facts. Instead she said, “Montgomery was standing right in front of a particularly edgy-looking young man who was clearly fresh out the Academy.”
[127] Watson nodded his comprehension and seemed to relax slightly. “You may proceed.”
She smiled slightly. “You know, Commander, they never formally relieved me of duty. Technically, this is still my ship.”
Let him chew on that, she thought, and stepped past him into the corridor.
For a moment, they all stood staring. “What the—” began Kim.
“They’ve gutted her!” said Tom, saying what they all thought.
Voyager had looked worse, but Janeway was having trouble remembering exactly when. The technicians under Montgomery’s command had probably done their jobs well and thoroughly, but they had left an enormous mess in their wake. Panels had been opened and tossed aside. Conduits gaped open, naked wires hung loose and occasionally sputtered.
“Didn’t their mothers tell them to tidy as they went?” Janeway asked, sighing.
“Admiral,” said Tuvok, “I believe we can expect this level of ... untidiness ... throughout the ship.”
“Project Full Circle was about discovering Voyager’s capabilities and enhancements,” said Chakotay. “It wasn’t about getting her ready to fly again. And I imagine when the virus broke out, the last thing on anyone’s mind was taking the time to put things back where they belonged.”
A shiver went down Janeway’s spine. “The regeneration chambers,” she said. “There’s no telling what they’ve done to them.”
“As a prime example of Borg technology on the ship, it’s probably going to be one of the most thoroughly [128] dismantled,” said Paris glumly. Seven and Icheb, despite their holographic facades, looked worried.
“All right,” said Janeway. “We mustn’t panic. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
Commander Roger Watson stared at the closed door through which the former Voyager captain and her crew had just left.
“Something wrong, sir?” asked one of his men.
“I’m not sure,” Watson replied slowly. He had been in the field of security for over twenty years. He had gotten as far as he had by trusting his instincts, and now, they were sounding a red alert. Yet there seemed to be nothing amiss. He’d seen Admiral Montgomery with his own eyes. He knew about the Borg virus, of course, and it made sense that the people who knew the Borg the best ought to be allowed access to the ship they knew the best.
And yet ... Montgomery, and even Commander Grady, had been adamant about not allowing anyone from Voyager to return to the ship. What made them change their minds? And why now? And why was Commander Data with him? Last Watson had heard, the android still served on the Enterprise.
Although all protocol had been observed, his instincts were still warning him that something was wrong.
“Something just doesn’t feel right about this,” Watson said at last, still staring at the door. “Get the second team up.”
As she sat roasting the flesh of some creature she’d trapped and killed—it had large soft eyes, four legs, and horns along its spine, but she didn’t know its [129] proper name—Torres thought back to the last time she had sat beside a fire cooking her dinner. It had been with her father, uncle, and cousins during that final, disastrous camping trip. B’Elanna smiled as she tried to apply the term “camping trip” to the Challenge of Spirit.
She hadn’t killed her dinner then; just brought hot dogs and marshmallows to roast over the fire. There had been comfortable tents, dry, clean clothing, and people—people she loved. There had been companionship, even though it was destined not to last.
The chunks of meat impaled on sticks dripped juices into the fire. The flame snapped and sizzled. B’Elanna’s mouth watered. The smell was delicious.
Despite the tentative overtures they had both made upon her returning home, things were still tense between Torres and her father. Now as she sat by the fire alone, waiting for the meat