The Garden - Melissa Scott [47]
"Thank you, Lieutenant Torres." Janeway rose to her feet. "And, by the way. Nice work, both of you."
CHAPTER
5
THE AWAY TEAM, ACCOMPANIED BY TORRES, GATHERED IN
one of the small staging rooms beside the transporter chamber for a final briefing. Janeway had insisted on dress uniforms even for the ex-Maquis of the away team, however quickly the latter had had to be created from stores, and now, looking at them, she was glad she had done so. The severe uniforms carried a promise of Federation power, however illusory; more than that, it reminded them all of the proper protocols and patterns, protocols that were vital to follow in meeting a new species. They were maybe especially important now, so far from home, from the Federation's support, and Janeway drew herself up a little in her stiff-collared coat. She was proud of her people, she admitted silently; they looked-they were-good, some of the best she'd ever served with. Even the ex-Maquis were some of the best, combining Starfleet training and practical experience; they had
been lucky that it had been Chakotay's ship Voyager had followed into the Delta Quadrant.
"Gentlemen," she said, and the others looked at her, Tuvok and Chakotay cutting short their desultory, low-voiced conversation. Kim drew himself up to his full height-he looked older in his dress uniform, and the planes of his face seemed suddenly sharper, more mature-not quite coming to attention, but almost so. Janeway gave him a faint, approving nod, and went on. "You've all seen the briefing summary."
There was a murmur of agreement, and Chakotay said, "The medical report wasn't encouraging."
Janeway smiled, the expression wry. "No. We don't have much choice left, Chakotay, and that's the main reason I've agreed to this dinner." She took a deep breath. "The report should have been clear enough, but I'll say it again. We have to resupply here, gentlemen. We will not stay healthy enough to reach another planet even if we could identify one. Which means that we have to achieve good relations-trade relations-with the Kirse at all costs."
She saw Kim stir at that, but the ensign said nothing, and she went on steadily. "The other concern we have is with the Kirse transporter and its possible use as a weapon. Lieutenant Torres has done her best to give us a full analysis of the beam and the system behind it, but so far we've been unsuccessful. Mr. Kim, you have the tricorder Lieutenant Torres programmed?"
"Yes, Captain." Kim touched his belt in confirmation.
"It's set to passive monitor," Torres said. "I've programmed it to begin active recording if the Kirse beam passes within twenty meters of its sensors, but if it doesn't switch on, Harry, you can operate it manually by-"
"I know," Kim interrupted, and tempered his words with an embarrassed smile. "I understood it when you went over it before."
Torres's face darkened briefly, but then she nodded, controlling her temper. "Then get me some good readings."
"I'll do my best," Kim answered, and looked back at Janeway. "It's all set, Captain."
"Good." Janeway looked more closely, saw that the tricorder was largely concealed by the dress uniform's coat. "But don't let data gathering jeopardize our relations with the Kirse. As for security issues . . . we'll follow standard protocols."
"We'll be standing by," Torres said, fervently. She hesitated. "Captain, I really wish you would take me along instead of Chakotay."
"Denied." Janeway knew she sounded harsh, and realized it was at least in part because of her own uncertainty. Torres was inexperienced in a command role; worse than that, she was still disliked by a large minority among the Starfleet crew, people who resented her having been promoted to chief engineer over Lieutenant Carey, a Starfleet officer. However, if the Kirse attacked, if the