Cohesion Read online

  Stepping forward, Captain Janeway extended her hand to Ziv and said, “Captain Ziv, I’d like to welcome you and your hara to Voyager. I’m Kathryn Janeway. May I present some members of my senior staff?” But even as the first word was out of the captain’s mouth, the Monorhans collectively lowered their heads down to their shoulders, startled. Captain Janeway immediately froze, and Neelix watched Tuvok and Chakotay shift into stances of readiness. After a trio of heartbeats had passed without anyone moving, the captain asked solicitously, “Is something wrong?”

  The Monorhan leader flinched again, but not so dramatically. After a moment, he straightened his long neck and twisted his head from side to side as if listening. Neelix heard—or rather, felt—a stream of low clicks and thrums. Watching the Monorhan carefully, he realized the sides of the captain’s throat were vibrating ever so slightly in time to the tones. A second later, his lips twitched and Neelix heard the translation through his combadge. “How odd,” Ziv said. “I hear my words in my language at the same time I hear them in yours.”

  “It’s a device we call the universal translator. These badges on our shirts are networked with the translator so we can understand what you’re saying.”

  The Monorhan cocked his head and studied the captain’s combadge. “Fascinating. Previously, when we spoke through the communication system, I did not experience this…” He waved his hand over his ears. “…this doubling effect.” One of Ziv’s companions lifted his head, and again Neelix both heard and felt the deep bass thrum. Ziv responded with a nod, then turned to Captain Janeway and said, “The device does not seem to work with the second speech.”

  Captain Janeway grasped Ziv’s meaning. “Interesting,” she said. “This is probably because neither we nor any of the races we deal with have this ability, this second speech.”

  Ziv stretched his neck to the side—Neelix interpreted this as a sign of mild surprise or amusement—then replied, “Then we both have something new to learn.”

  The captain smiled and once again extended her hand. “As do I, Captain Ziv. Please allow me to welcome you aboard my ship. May I present my first officer, Chakotay?” Beside him, Neelix felt Chakotay relax as he stepped forward. Once again, the captain had skillfully negotiated a tricky moment in a first-contact situation. Less than five minutes later, the Monorhans appeared to be at their ease and understood that he and Chakotay would be their escorts for the balance of their visit.

  Before they left the shuttlebay, Chief Clemens, the perpetually grease-stained deck chief, asked the captain if the Monorhans would like him to take a look at their vehicle. “Chief Clemens loves his work,” Neelix offered.

  “I’d have to on this ship, wouldn’t I?” Clemens asked.

  Ziv turned to one of his companions and let loose with a series of short clicks. Then he turned back to the chief and said, “My pilot says you should feel free to inspect our craft if he may later in turn examine one of yours.”

  The chief grinned, obviously pleased at the prospect. “Absolutely!” he said. “I just finished patching one back together! Best you come around before they let Mr. Paris fly her, though. You never know if you’re going to see one again when he takes it out.”

  “That’s enough, Chief,” Neelix said, smiling indulgently. “No reason they should be afraid of Tom any sooner than necessary.”

  Looking slightly baffled, Ziv allowed himself to be led away, then fell in easily beside Captain Janeway in an odd loping, rolling gait. Three other Monorhans fell in behind the pair, followed by Chakotay and Tuvok, clearly intent on engaging them in conversation. The smallest of the five Monorhans lagged behind the rest and, when everyone else had passed, slowly knuckled over to the shuttlebay forcefield and studied the blue glow raptly. Twisting his head to regard Neelix, the Monorhan asked, “Can I touch it?”

  “Yes.”

  The Monorhan reached out and tentatively felt for the edge of the field. Neelix heard a faint angry buzz, which grew louder and more insistent as the Monorhan pushed forward. Finally the field reached its tolerance and the Monorhan’s hand was expelled. Wiggling his fingers, the visitor asked, “Could I push through if I tried?”

  “I don’t think so,” Neelix said. “Though I confess I’ve never tried. Would you want to?”

  The Monorhan did not answer, lost in thought. “But the vessels—ours and yours—can go through.”

  “That’s controlled by the computers,” Neelix explained. “I won’t pretend to understand it. Somehow it knows the difference between a person and a ship. Ships go through; people don’t.”

  “Remarkable,” the alien sighed, and Neelix thought he detected a trace of sadness in his voice.

  “Voyager is home to many remarkable things,” Neelix said, “and remarkable people.”

  “The way you say that,” the Monorhan said, “you don’t sound like you feel you are one of them.”

  Surprised by the words, Neelix briefly considered the idea, then admitted, “Sometimes I feel like I am and other times, not so much. I was not part of her original crew. They rescued me…and a companion…several years ago and allowed me to join them on their journey.”

  “So you’ve traveled far from your home?”

  “Quite far.”

  Looking out into the void beyond the forcefield, the Monorhan asked, “Do you think you will ever return?”

  Neelix shook his head and felt a deep sadness creep into his voice. “I can’t. My home was destroyed many years ago.” Then, remembering his responsibilities, he said, “But Voyager is my home now. Someday, perhaps somewhere else, but for now, I try to always keep in mind that there are much worse places to be.”

  “Yes,” the Monorhan said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You could be on my world.”

  “Ah,” Neelix said, and though he was unsure where the conversation was going, he wanted his guest to feel like he should speak his mind. “So you prefer to be out here in space.”

  “This is my first trip into space. So far, I have found it…terrifying.”

  “Oh. Well…” He knew he should try to find something else to say but was baffled by the young man’s candor. Noting that they were alone in the shuttlebay but for the flight crew who were examining the Monorhan’s craft, Neelix said, “The others will be wondering what happened to us, and we need to stop in sickbay to make sure there’s nothing in our environment that’s harmful to you.” Extending his hand, he said, “My name is Neelix, by the way. And you are?”

  “Diro,” the young alien said, grasping his hand. “And I wouldn’t worry about there being anything harmful in your environment.” Pointing at the bandage on his neck, Diro said, “I doubt it could be anything worse than what we dealt with on Monorha.”

  Guiding Diro toward the exit, Neelix asked, “I noticed several of your friends were wearing bandages. Then these are not injuries?”

  “No. A blood disease many of us have. Not fatal, but we’re easily injured and heal slowly.”

  “Our doctor may be able to help you,” Neelix said, hoping he wasn’t promising too much.

  “We would be grateful,” Diro said touching his throat, “though I doubt he could aid everyone who suffers with this.”

  “Possibly not,” Neelix agreed, as the shuttlebay doors shut behind them, “though I’m sure he’d try if asked. He’s that sort of fellow.”

  Chapter 4

  Disaster minus 122 minutes

  Tom Paris sulked.

  No grilled cheese sandwich.

  He hated being sick or, at least, a patient. For a nurse, sickbay was a fairly interesting place in which to hang out; for a patient, it was deadly dull, especially now that the Doc’s pain medication was wearing off.

  Unfortunately, the medication hadn’t worn off when B’Elanna had come by for a visit, and Tom knew his spacey demeanor had as much to do with her leaving so quickly as her continuing angst about the engines. He seemed to recall her saying something about Chakotay ordering her to relax, but Tom wasn’t sure that meant she had to
relax with him.

  “L’amour est enfant de Bohême,” howled the Doctor from his office. With no patients other than Tom to attend to, the Doctor had given free rein to his opera-buffery. “Il n’a jamais, jamais connu de loi…”

  “Doc.”

  “Si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime…”

  “Doc!”

  “Mais je t’aime, prends garde à toi!”

  “Doc!”

  The Doctor poked his head out of his office, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Yes?”

  “When can I go home?”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “My head hurts and I’m cranky and I don’t think anyone is bringing me a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  “This is not a mess hall, Mr. Paris,” the Doctor said, flipping open his medical tricorder.

  “Precisely why I want to go home.”

  Waving the device over Tom’s head, the EMH frowned. “Hmmm…” he hummed while consulting the display. “Self-absorbed. Churlish in a moderately amusing manner. Concerned only with your own feelings.” He snapped the tricorder shut. “You’re cured. Go home.”

  Tom flipped the thin blanket off his legs and swung them off the side of the biobed. “Thanks,” he said. “Can you do anything about my headache?”

  “Take two analgesics and call me in the morning,” he said, and returned to his office.

  As Tom was sliding on his boots, sickbay’s doors parted and Harry stalked in looking unusually agitated. “Hey,” he said. “Feeling better?”

  “I’m all right,” Tom said. “Just another sharp blow to the rear of my head.”

  “That’s quite a collection you’re amassing. What is it about you that you’re always getting hit?”

  “I assumed,” Tom said, lightly touching the still-tender spot, “that it has something to do with flying into the face of danger at a moment’s notice.”

  “Or, possibly, being clumsy.”

  “The Doctor has suggested as much,” Tom said. “Are you here to see me or to talk to the Doc?”

  “Neither,” Harry said. “I was hoping B’Elanna was here.”

  “She was here for a few minutes,” Tom confirmed, “then had an idea and wanted to go check it out. I suspect she doesn’t want to be bothered until she’s had a chance to work all the angles. Is this about the physics of the local space?”

  “Yeah,” Harry said, distractedly skimming some notes on his padd. “I’m supposed to meet Seven down in astrometrics and begin working this problem, but wanted to check a couple things with B’Elanna first.”

  “Because she’s so much more reasonable…”

  Harry snickered appreciatively. “Depending on her mood, yes. If nothing else, she’s a touch less condescending.”

  “True.” Glancing over Harry’s shoulder at his padd, Tom tried to make sense of the notes. “How could a planet’s magnetic field look like that?”

  “Usually from extreme volcanic activity, but I haven’t seen any evidence of that so far. I’m telling you, Tom, nothing here makes any sense.”

  Tom grinned. “So you’re enjoying yourself, then?”

  Kim tried to hide his smile, but had to surrender. “Enjoying? That might be a bit extreme, but, is it interesting? Yes. And to think we almost flew past here without a backward glance.”

  “And then you had to open your mouth.”

  Before Harry could reply, the door opened and sickbay was suddenly packed full of broad-shouldered, thrumming, knuckle-walking Monorhans. Hearing the commotion, the Doctor emerged from his office and attempted to assert control, but it wasn’t until the captain was at the center of the room calling for quiet that Tom had a chance to study the guests. At first glance, all five Monorhans appeared very similar, but as he examined them more closely he detected subtle differences in face shape and hair color. Their leader, Captain Ziv, was the tallest and gave the impression of having the most self-control. The other four (the last one, accompanied by Neelix, joined the group just as the captain was explaining the examination procedure) were fidgety and nervous. Tom decided that the hollow clacks and thrums he heard were some sort of unconscious subvocalizations.

  Once everyone was settled, Neelix and Chakotay took over and escorted first the Monorhan captain, then the others into the examination room. The tests were basic screenings and DNA scans, the sort of thing the Doctor would run on any visitor who arrived on a shuttle to make sure they weren’t carrying some dodgy virus or microorganism that Voyager’s environmental filters couldn’t handle.

  As soon as the Doctor finished taking his readings, the Monorhans were hustled away, followed by the captain and Harry, who were already discussing theories about the nature of the fabric of local space-time. Realizing that B’Elanna was not going to be in her quarters and seeing that the ship was still at yellow alert, Tom suggested he stay and help process the test results, an offer the Doctor accepted without any of his usual sarcasm.

  As they settled down to work, the Doc hummed merrily, occasionally singing a line in German or Italian under his breath. As time passed, though, his countenance grew more and more grave until finally Tom had to ask, “What is it, Doc?”

  The Doctor did not respond directly, but, staring at his medical tricorder intently, asked, “Could you pull up the scans of local space for me, Mr. Paris?”

  Without replying, Tom turned to the computer, tapped into the sensor logs, and piped the data to the Doctor’s work station. “Coming up on your screen,” Tom said.

  The Doctor thanked him, then immersed himself in the data. Finally, after several minutes of intense study, the Doctor looked at Tom and with a furrowed brow asked, “Did the captain say how long we’d be in this area?”

  “I’m not sure,” Tom said. “I would imagine not for very long. I think her primary goal is to help these people, then continue on our way. Why?”

  In reply, the Doctor pulled up a model of a molecule that Tom quickly identified as a strand of DNA. Several chains in the strand were blinking ominously, diagnostic data flashing in boxes beside them. Pointing, Voyager’s chief medical officer said, “Because our guests are not very healthy,” the Doctor said softly.

  “You saw the bandages they all wore,” Tom said. “You must have known there was something wrong with them.”

  Shaking his head, the Doctor replied, “That is nothing. Compromised immune systems. But this…” He indicated the display. “This is quite another story.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Tom asked.

  The Doctor looked up at him then and said, very bluntly, “No, Mr. Paris. I do not think there is. And if we don’t leave soon, I won’t be able to do anything for us, either.”

  * * *

  After leaving the medical area, Janeway’s second, the one named Chakotay, asked Neelix to escort Ziv and his hara to living quarters. The commander was required to visit the engine room, he said, but would find the Monorhans again shortly. Though the opportunity to rest was enticing, Ziv also felt strongly that he should see as much of the vessel as he could and asked Chakotay if he could join him. The second hesitated only for a moment, then acquiesced graciously. The hara whistled and clicked unhappily about being separated from their harat, but Ziv chastised them and ordered them to be on their way.

  The walk to the engine room was short, but Ziv tried to absorb every detail he saw and smelled. He was astonished by how wide and clean the corridors were compared with the narrow, poorly lit passages on his own vessel. He asked how many crewmen were aboard, and the second answered, “Only about one hundred and fifty, though we could easily accommodate more if we needed. How many are aboard your vessel?”

  “The drive section?” Ziv asked. “Approximately twelve hundred.”

  “That’s a lot of room for twelve hundred,” Chakotay said, walking swiftly down the hall. Ziv had to swing himself along on his knuckles in order to keep up. He was mildly uncomfortable moving this way in front of a stranger, but the Voyager did not seem to care. Even the crew memb
ers who walked past in the opposite direction paid Ziv only the scantest attention. Obviously, these were a jaded people. “Couldn’t you move some of the passengers from the…the containers?”

  “No,” Ziv said. “The rear third of the ship, closest to the engine, is uninhabitable because of radiation. And besides, we don’t have any way to move passengers. There is only one shuttle, and the containers, as you call them, do not have airlocks.”

  “Then how will you get the passengers off when you arrive at your destination?”

  “Each container is outfitted with lifeboats. When we find a world on which to settle, the containers will be left in orbit after we remove all the items we can use. My hope is that we will be able to program decaying orbits that will bring the containers down in locations where we may be able to reclaim some of the raw materials, though this is many steps into the future.”

  “Do you know whether you can settle on the world you’re aiming for?” Chakotay asked as they boarded one of the small elevators.

  Ziv reluctantly admitted that they were not certain. Their observations of the target world indicated it may be habitable, but there was no way to be sure.

  “We performed only cursory scans as we passed it,” Chakotay said casually as the elevator door opened, “but I think you’ll be all right. The oxygen/nitrogen ratio is a little off, but there’s water and the life-sign indicators were good.”

  Ziv stopped short just outside the elevator. “You know all this?” he asked.

  Chakotay turned to look at him. “Well, like I said, these were cursory scans, but, yes. I’m fairly confident the scans are accurate.”

  Staggered by the news, Ziv clacked loudly, though he immediately recognized that the Voyager did not know what the exclamation meant. “You have no idea,” he said, “what this will mean to my passengers and crew.”

  The corners of the alien’s mouth curled up, and Ziv sensed his pleasure. “Happy to help,” he said. “This is the engine room. Please don’t touch anything without asking, but otherwise feel free to look around. I’ll only be a moment.”