The Murdered Sun - Christie Golden [5]
He opened his mouth, closed it, thought, then resumed. "Let me put it to you this way. They are not people one wants to cross.
The threat from that buoy was not idle. They would have no compunctions about murdering everyone on board to protect their interests-and their interests just might include taking over this ship."
CHAPTER 2
Janeway barely had to call for a meeting before everyone hastened to the conference room. Chakotay eased himself into a seat and sat silently while everyone filed in.
He watched their faces, as he knew Janeway was doing, as any captain worth his or her salt learned quickly to do. Both he and Janeway were well-respected leaders of a largely contented crew.
He knew his own methods of dealing with his crew, and he'd had enough time to watch Janeway--even as he knew she was watching him as well.
Some wore their emotions on their sleeves, like Ensign Kim and, on occasion, Tom Paris. Others, like Tuvok and Chakotay himself, had learned to hood their feelings, though Chakotay was adept enough at expressing himself should the occasion arise.
The windows were large in the conference room, and Chakotay turned his gaze momentarily upon the starfield. Unbidden, her image rose in his mind. He could not help but wonder if her puzzling advice was related to the new and apparently aggressive race whose warning buoy they had just encountered. As he watched, his eyes not really focused on the stars, a huge chunk of a spaceship went slowly past the window, turning end over end in a disturbing ballet.
The door hissed open one final time and B'Elanna Torres entered.
As usual, Torres was the last to arrive, having to come all the way from Engineering. She caught Chakotay's gaze, but her own face was inscrutable. Graceful and slim despite the physical power granted by her Klingon mother's blood, she slipped easily into a seat, folded her hands on the desk, and looked toward Janeway expectantly.
"Here's the situation," said Janeway without preamble. "We've got indications that there might be a wormhole in this sector.
We just encountered a warning buoy placed by a race calling themselves the Akerians, warning us not to trespass. Mr. Neelix, please continue telling us what you know of the Akerians."
Neelix looked very uncomfortable. In his limited contact with the pudgy little alien, Chakotay had found him extremely anxious to please.
The self-appointed "morale officer," the Talaxian liked nothing better than to cheer people up. Neelix dreaded being the bearer of bad tidings, and now he fumbled for words.
"Well, as I told you on the bridge, they are an advanced culture.
They have formed the Akerian Empire, which consists of various planets they've conquered and, well, shall we say... plundered, I suppose, is the term. Nobody knows for sure where their home planet is--they are very territorial, hence the warning buoys."
"What do they look like?" asked Kim.
Neelix hesitated, then replied, "Well, I know they're bipedal.
Strong. And very tall."
"Humanoid?" queried Paris.
Neelix shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say for sure. Nobody knows much about them--only about the damage they leave in their wake. They always wear masks--don't want their faces to be seen, apparently.
Possibly humanoid, yes."
"Level of technological development?" put in Torres.
Chakotay felt a brief twinge of sympathy at Neelix's obvious discomfort. He'd been on the receiving end of Torres's grilling style himself.
"Warp and shield capabilities. They have a unique sort of weaponry that seems to impact unshielded ships and planets very harshly. And no, I don't know what type," he added, preempting Torres's next question. The chief engineer glowered at him.
Neelix turned pleadingly toward the captain. "I strongly urge you to respect their boundaries, Captain," he said. "I'm not sure how badly they could hurt us, but I know that they can.
Can't we get what information we need from here about the wormhole?"