The Garden - Melissa Scott [14]
Renehan nodded. "I think we can count on the old The enemy of my enemy is my friend' to get us at least a hearing."
"And we do have trade goods," Kim said. "More than I thought we would."
"Oh?" Paris asked. "I didn't know you were part of that team."
Kim nodded. "It turns out there's a decent amount of scrap metal on board. I guess it was intended for engineering repairs, or at least that's how the computer has it filed in the manifest."
Renehan chortled. "I bet Torres was happy to give you her spare parts."
Kim grinned in answer. "She wasn't best pleased, no. But she finally agreed that she could spare some of the tonnage."
Paris smiled, too, but wondered what would happen if there wasn't enough metal, or if it turned out not to be what the Kirse wanted. Voyager needed the supplies badly already; if the Kirse refused them, if they had to find another source of food-most of the human crew were already feeling the effects of the deficiency, and there weren't enough nonhumans on board to run the ship. The obvious possibility loomed large in his mind Voyager was one of the most powerful ships they had seen in the Delta Quadrant,
its technology superior to anything the Kazon-Ogla possessed. If it came to it, they could probably take what they needed- He shook his head, rejecting the thought. He couldn't imagine Janeway, or even Chakotay, Maquis and renegade though he was, giving that order. Would I? he wondered. Could I? Oh, yeah, I'm a real hard man, done my time and everything, but this, pure piracy . . . even in the best of causes, I'm not sure I could. The risks are too great. It was an odd discovery, almost disconcerting- Starfleet training lasting longer than he'd ever thought possible, he told himself-and he shook the idea away. Besides, the other point of Starfleet training was to avoid getting into impasses in the first place, and Janeway had obviously learned her lessons well. It shouldn't come to that. "So how's Neelix handling it?" he asked, almost at random, and earned an odd look from Renehan.
"What are you talking about, Tom?"
"I know he was upset about the cooking situation," Paris answered. "I wondered if he'd calmed down."
"He seems to have," Kim answered, and whatever else he would have said was cut off by the beep of their communicators.
"Mr. Kim, Mr. Paris, report to the bridge." Chako-tay's voice was controlled, but Paris thought he could hear an edge of excitement in it. "We've found the Kirse planet."
"On my way," Paris answered automatically, and the ship's computer spoke over him.
"All off-duty personnel, report to your stations. All off-duty personnel, report to your stations."
"That's me, then," Renehan said. "Let's hope we find something."
"We'd better," Kim said, and looked embarrassed by his own fervor.
Renehan's blue-team station was on the lower decks, near the engine room. Paris and Kim took a turbolift, reaching the bridge as the computer announced, "All crew members in position." Paris settled into position behind the helm as the thin-faced ensign who had had the conn slid aside, and called up a quick review of the ship's status. Everything seemed normal, all systems at maximum e fficiency, and he switched to a sensor feed. The unenhanced view seemed unimpressive, a tiny disk barely larger than the nail of his little finger, too small as yet to show the clouds and colors of an inhabited world, but he heard Kim whistle softly to himself as he examined the sensor readouts.
The captain obviously heard it, too, though Paris didn't dare look back to check her expression. "Report, Mr. Kim."
"Still scanning, Captain," Kim answered. He was learning, Paris thought. Not long ago, he would have apologized, or rushed to finish, but he'd learned to take his time. "Sensors confirm this is a class-M planet. The atmosphere is almost identical to Earth's, down to trace gases, and the oceans are also remarkably Earth-like, including mineral content."
"Vegetation?" Janeway asked.
"Still scanning," Kim answered. "There's a lot of it, Captain, and