The Murdered Sun - Christie Golden [60]
Language was a living thing, mutating and developing over centuries.
The hologram ought to have at least spoken with an accent that made its speech difficult for Nata to understand.
Almost at once he realized why. Nata's people kept their culture and history alive orally. Whole sagas were memorized verbatim.
Though Chakotay knew that, for instance, he'd have had a hard time understanding Middle English, the Verunan--K'shikkaan?--language had not changed at all. He made a mental note of this.
Finally, Nata finished up, culminating with a deep bow. The hologram seemed satisfied.
"You are a true Viha. You bear the emblem of your status, and you have the Words to speak the truth. You may pass. This, the great ship Soul, is yours to command."
The hologram disappeared. With a low hum, the ship seemed to come to new life, as if the words that had been exchanged had woken a dormant life form. The red lights blipped out, but in their stead, new, hitherto unlit light of a warm, sunny hue came on. The corridor in which they stood was covered with fine dust--the crumbled remains, the Indian realized, of perhaps hundreds of dead Verunans. Their footprints, booted human and huge clawed Verunan, left clear trails in the inch-thick powder.
The walls were bright white, clearly made of metal now that they were viewed in better lighting.
Chakotay motioned for Nata to follow him. Wordlessly, she complied as they retraced a few steps back to the area from which they had entered.
When they were within ten centimeters of the wall, the door reappeared as mysteriously as it had vanished.
Chakotay and Nata stepped outside. The door disappeared. Nata put her hand in the touch pad, and the door returned. Chakotay smiled up at her.
"You must have passed inspection," he said. "I wanted to make sure that we could come and go as we pleased now. No disrespect, but I have no desire to be trapped inside for the rest of my days."
"Nor do I," concurred Nata. "But come. If the... the protector of this place has granted me access, I wish to use it."
Chakotay nodded his close-cropped head in agreement, and together they reentered the ship and continued down the corridor. It was long, longer than Chakotay had even estimated. Ten, fifteen minutes passed, and Chakotay began to chafe at the time being thus eaten up. With a quick glance at the bodies that still filled the little alcoves to the sides of the corridor, he said, "Would it be disrespectful to run?"
"I was wondering that myself," confessed the Viha with a chuckle.
"We have less than five of your hours. I would say, we should run."
At once Chakotay sprang forward. He was in excellent shape and could run in reality almost as smoothly as he could in imaginary excursions with his animal guide. He didn't pull his pace--Nata, with her powerful, long strides, was more than able to keep up despite her age.
She ran swiftly beside him, her heavy feet thump-thumping, a rhythmic beat.
At last Chakotay glimpsed what seemed to be a dead end up ahead.
He did not despair, having seen how the doors operated in the place, he was confident they would find that this was not truly a dead end. He slowed, panting only slightly as they reached it.
Sure enough, when they got within ten centimeters, the wall dissolved into a curved entryway.
What lay beyond, greeting their astonished eyes as they stepped through, was beyond Nata's conception and even beyond Chakotay's highest hopes.
It was a huge, wide-open area. The overarching ceiling was at least five hundred meters above their heads. Balconies encircled the open section, hinting at more rooms beyond their immediate vision. Private quarters? Mess halls? Holodecks? Chakotay thought almost giddily to himself. But what held Nata transfixed and what so delighted the first officer of the Voyager was that straight ahead were groupings of hundreds of consoles, computers, and, over several hundred yards to the rear,