The Garden - Melissa Scott [53]
"Then let us say this for now," Adamant said. "Send one of your people down to examine what we have to offer-our fields are rich, the first harvest is ripe, and I think you will find what you need. Then tell me if it's not worth the components we want."
"The issue isn't one of worth," Janeway said, "but of our own situation. Our supplies are limited-you know from Mr. Revek how far we are from our home ports, from the Federation. Unless you could offer us a way back there, we literally cannot spare the parts from our own transporters."
"I regret that I don't have that to place on the table," Adamant answered, and smiled. "And I am- not unsympathetic-to your difficulties. But the Andirrim are a persistent and annoying problem that needs to be permanently resolved." "With your permission, then," Janeway said, "I'll
send some of my people down tomorrow to examine the food that's available, as you offered. In the meantime, I and my officers will discuss how best we can meet your needs, and get back to you."
"Agreed," Adamant said, and looked over his shoulder. "Thilo can accompany them."
"Very well." Privately, Janeway was less sure that Revek's presence was desirable, but she saw no point in protesting. "Adamant, I thank you for a truly lovely dinner. We'll contact you in the morning regarding our survey."
"Captain, you are most welcome." Adamant bowed deeply over his folded hands.
Janeway touched her communicator. "Janeway to Voyager. Four to beam up."
Janeway did not sleep well that night, despite her very real exhaustion. A part of her dreaming mind was busy with Voyager, while another worried at the transporter question, so that in her dreams she chased or was chased down the corridors of the Kirse gardens, her way blocked at every turn by overstuffed furniture that chattered to her in inane upper-class British accents. Under the circumstances, she wasn't sorry when the computer sounded its preprogrammed alert, and took a certain pleasure in the drawn faces of the rest of the previous night's away team as her officers assembled in the briefing room. She had called a full meeting, wanting input from all of the ship's senior officers, and now, looking at the faces, she was glad she had done so.
"You look tired, Chakotay," she said. "How did you sleep?"
The first officer looked up at her as she took her place at the table, surprise at such a personal question
fading to comprehension at the matching expression on her face.
"Not very well, Captain, actually." Janeway nodded. "And you, Mr. Kim?" The young ensign blushed. "Um, not very well, either, Captain. I, uh, had indigestion."
"He was sick as a dog," Paris said, not very much under his breath.
"Right," Janeway said, with deliberate ambiguity. "I want each of you to report to sickbay after this meeting. Let's just be sure there's nothing unexpected in the Kirse food, too." "Yes, Captain," Kim said.
"We've been eating very badly for a while now," Chakotay said. "There's bound to be a reaction."
Janeway nodded. "I agree, that's probably it. But it's better to be sure."
"Very good, Captain." Chakotay leaned back in his chair.
"Now." Janeway steepled her fingers, wishing that it wouldn't look unreasonably self-indulgent to spend a replicator ration on coffee, and glanced around the table. All the department heads were there, with the exception of the holographic doctor, and she glanced at Kes, sitting as always at Neelix's side. Before she could ask, however, a wallscreen lit, and the doctor's dyspeptic features appeared in its frame. "Good," she said aloud. "We're all here."
The doctor stared back at her, visibly unabashed, and Janeway wondered, not for the first time, who had been the pattern for his social template.
"Our main concern," she said, "is the Kirse offer. As you know, they want to trade their food-which we need-for transporter components, the hardware they would need to build their own version of our
transporter system. I