Cohesion

  “Of course,” Kiiy said, raising her arms in a gesture Seven interpreted as a sign of gratitude. “We would welcome any help you can offer, Captain. How may we aid you in your investigations?”

  “Tell us where to have our shuttle land,” Janeway replied. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll know where we stand.”

  Very diplomatic, Captain, Seven thought approvingly. Very efficient.

  Shalla Kiiy seemed just as capable of moving events along. “We will send coordinates as soon as possible, Captain. How many people will be landing?”

  “That depends,” Captain Janeway said. “On whether Captain Ziv and his associates would like to come home or go with Voyager to visit the Blue Eye.”

  Ziv was visibly surprised by the idea, but responded quickly, “My hara and I would like to accompany you, Captain. We wish to know more about the radiation.”

  “And may I suggest, Captain,” Kiiy inserted, “that we request the assistance of some Monorhan experts? An astrophysicist, perhaps, and another who has knowledge of the history of our system and the Blue Eye in particular?”

  Captain Janeway looked at both Chakotay and Tuvok for a brief instant. Each must have, after his fashion, offered his assent in a manner Seven could not detect, because the captain agreed to Kiiy’s suggestion. “We accept,” she said. “We’ll send my team down in one shuttle and pick up yours with a second.”

  Kiiy nodded politely. “May I know the names of the individuals who will be aiding us, Captain?”

  Obviously, the captain had been thinking about this, because she replied without hesitation, “I’ll be sending down my chief engineer, Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres.” Seven approved of the decision. As difficult as Torres could be, she had an astonishingly good grasp of deflector and shield technology. “And to assist her, I’ll be sending along Voyager’s resident expert in all manner of esoteric technology….”

  * * *

  “She’s sending Seven?!” B’Elanna roared, and threw her microspanner against the office wall. It bounced off, then landed point-side down in a slap of temper-foam packing.

  “Nice throw,” Chakotay said. “If that’s broken, I’m taking it out of your pay.”

  B’Elanna hastily retrieved the tool and carefully inspected the tool. “We don’t get paid,” she said absently.

  “Then I’ll bust you down to ensign.”

  “Good, then I won’t be chief engineer anymore and the captain will have to send someone else.”

  “Then I’ll bust Tom down to ensign.”

  “Don’t do that,” B’Elanna said, and set the tool back on the worktable. “He’d pout.”

  “Fine. Then just get used to the idea that you’ve got to work with Seven sometimes.”

  B’Elanna sighed hugely. She had half-expected this when the captain had consulted with her about the Monorhans’ shield generators. Even in orbit, it was difficult to determine much about them except that they weren’t doing the job, and as much as it pained B’Elanna to admit it, Seven was probably the best person to send along. She had a flair for analyzing these kinds of problems. “Fine. But I’m in charge, right?”

  “You have the rank,” Chakotay said. “Unless you want to be an ensign again.”

  “Not that she’ll listen,” B’Elanna said grumpily.

  “She will,” Chakotay said. “In her own way, she respects you.”

  “Oh, someone engrave those words on my tombstone.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, then said, “I’ve been in here for more than twelve hours. I’m starting to get fuzzy.”

  “I told you to visit Tom in sickbay and take it easy hours ago, but you couldn’t do it.”

  B’Elanna stopped massaging her nose and said, “Sickbay—that reminds me—what do we do about protection from the radiation?”

  “The Doctor will want to see you before you go. More injections. He’ll give you scanners, too, so you can monitor your exposure. He says he’ll be able to reverse any damage you take when you get back.”

  “All right. How much time do I have to get ready?”

  “The captain wants us to get moving on this, but I say take a couple hours; make sure you’ve got the right supplies with you. Also, we need to give Chief Clemens time to prep two shuttles.”

  “Not transporters?” B’Elanna asked. “And why two?”

  “One is to take you two down and the other is to pick up the Monorhans. The captain decided we might not want to tip our hand about the transporter just yet.”

  “Ace up her sleeve, huh? Well, I can’t fault her for that.” B’Elanna sighed and sat down on the corner of the worktable, then picked up the microspanner again. “Did you talk to her about keeping our noses out of everyone else’s business?”

  “I did.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “In a nutshell, she said she understands your position, but that we have responsibilities.”

  B’Elanna rolled her eyes. “What responsibilities?” she asked irritably.

  “As sentient beings, B’Elanna,” Chakotay said flatly. “As decent, moral individuals in a cold, indifferent universe.”

  For several seconds, all B’Elanna could do was toy with her microspanner. “I hate that argument,” she said. “There’s no refuting it.”

  “None that I’ve found so far.”

  “Fine,” she said replacing the tool again. “I’m going to get shots and kiss my boyfriend.”

  “A good plan. Go do it.”

  Just as the door to the office was opening, Chakotay’s combadge chirped. “Commander?” it said. “Chief Clemens here.”

  Chakotay tapped the badge. “Go ahead, Chief.”

  “We have a bit of a problem down here on the hangar deck. I could use some clarification. I got one functioning shuttle down here right now. I’m figuring it’ll be a couple hours until I can get the other one together.”

  “No problem, Chief. B’Elanna and Seven aren’t leaving for a couple hours.”

  “But you want to send someone down to pick up the local dignitaries now? I figure we got a lot going on around here, so why wait?”

  Chakotay pondered the request for all of two seconds. “Finish prepping the shuttle, Chief. I’ll be down in ten minutes. See if you can find me a copilot.”

  “I’ll ask around, Commander. Thanks.”

  “And, Chief?”

  “Sir?”

  “Why do we have only one shuttle that can fly right now?”

  “Because you all keep breaking them.”

  There weren’t many people on Voyager who were permitted to be quite so forthright, but Chief Clemens was one of them. Chakotay nodded. “Point taken, Chief. Thanks.”

  “See you in ten, Commander.”

  After Chakotay signed off, B’Elanna asked, “You’re going to go get the Monorhans?”

  “I haven’t flown for a while,” he said.

  “But you’re not leaving yourself enough time for injections and lectures from the Doctor.”

  “The privileges of command. And, besides, I’ll only be down there for a few minutes.”

  “Famous last words,” B’Elanna said, but let the topic drop. Chakotay was a cautious fellow.

  * * *

  “Commander Chakotay has departed to retrieve Shalla Kiiy’s experts,” Ziv reported. “And Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine will be leaving shortly.”

  “Excellent,” Sem replied. “This has gone as well as could be expected. If anything should happen to you or the Voyagers, at least we have their engineers and the shuttle to examine.”

  Ziv accepted the compliments, though he did not like knowing his rih-hara-tan had pondered what to do if his hosts left the system without returning. He was glad the rest of the hara had gone to the mess hall for a late dinner. They did not need to hear any of this. “Do you know who Shalla Kiiy asked to come to Voyager?”

  The rih-hara-tan checked her notepad, but Ziv knew she was making a show of it. Finally, she said, “An astrophysicist named Morsa. Do
you know him?”

  “No.”

  “And her historical specialist is…” The show continued as the rih-hara-tan twisted her face into an expression of mock surprise. “I hope this won’t present any problems, but Kiiy has sent someone named Professor Sem. I believe you know her?”

  Ziv closed his eyes and involuntarily contracted his neck muscles. Of course. Because this day hasn’t been difficult enough. Aloud, he said, “Yes, my rih. I await your arrival.”

  “Excellent, Ziv.”

  “But Captain Janeway,” Ziv said, his mind racing. “Might she not wonder why such an important person would be risking herself in such an endeavor?”

  “She might,” Sem said. “Or she may think I am a responsible leader, just like she is. I wish to be on the scene, to lend aid in any manner I can, especially since so many of my people have died this day. Is it really so unlikely that I would be a historical expert, too?”

  Especially since you are, Ziv thought. “Not unlikely at all, my rih.”

  With a nod and a sly smile, but no other comment, the rih-hara-tan signed off.

  * * *

  Monorha may have always been like this, Chakotay thought as the shuttle dropped down below the cloud layer, but I hope not. Hectares of barren rock bordered by roiling sea slipped beneath the shuttle’s prow. There were no signs of green vegetation, though here and there he saw patches of gray that might have been some kind of fungus or hardy lichen.

  While the atmosphere was not actually corrosive, breathing it for any length of time would make him feel like someone was scrubbing his bronchial tubes with chemical abrasives. Scans showed that the seas still lived, the Monorhan version of plankton still able to survive, but microscopic anaerobic organisms were proliferating, coating the waters in large gray slicks. The deeps of the ocean were dying, with several dozen species of large predators and game fish failing. Chakotay began to wonder about their earlier assessment that the Monorhans were a predatory species. How could they have evolved from pack hunters when there was so little landmass?

  Ensign Smothers, the copilot Clemens had found for him, announced, “Coming up on our coordinates, Commander.” Twenty kilometers ahead, Chakotay spotted the curve of the lead-colored hillside that Shalla Kiiy had described. Behind it, the same dull color, rose what might have been another hillside, except that this one sketched an impossibly precise curve against the russet sky. “How much power do you think their shields take, sir?”

  Chakotay couldn’t even begin to guess. If the Monorhans had some form of matter-antimatter generator, this wouldn’t be a problem, but the scans they had made of the transport hadn’t shown anything more sophisticated than crude fusion reactors. Impressive in its way, Chakotay decided, struggling to be fair. If not for Zefram Cochrane and the arrival of the Vulcans, Earth might have ended up looking a great deal like this.

  Two minutes later, Smothers pointed out the curved airlock door. “There it is, sir. Just where they said.”

  “I see it, Jim. Hang on. I’m going to go in slow so everyone can have a look.” Switching over from impulse engines to a-grav, the shuttle shimmied slightly.

  “The shields are still up, sir.”

  “I know, Ensign.”

  “Yes, sir,” Smothers said. “It’ll just make the landing a little…” Nearing the ground, the shuttle bucked once, then again, as the shields readjusted for the proximity of the ground. “A little bumpy, sir.”

  “Yes, Ensign. Duly noted.”

  The shuttle touched down with no additional dramatics. After powering down the engines, Chakotay pushed his chair away from the console and put his hands behind his head. Smothers looked at him questioningly, but did not speak.

  “Say what’s on your mind, Ensign.”

  Smothers swallowed, then nodded. “We’re not going in?”

  “No,” Chakotay said. “We’re waiting right here until our guests come out to meet us. I have no desire to be exposed to any more hard radiation than necessary.”

  “Fine by me,” Smothers said. “Those shots the Doc gives us make me bloat.” He gave Chakotay a sidelong glance. “But that’s not the only reason, is it?”

  “Good observation, Ensign,” Chakotay said. “Maybe I’m getting a suspicious nature in my old age, but I’ve seen too many of these little errands go wrong.”

  “Don’t you worry the Monorhans will think we’re being rude?”

  Chakotay shrugged. “Who knows what the Monorhans consider rude? I’d prefer not to take any chances.” In actuality, Chakotay was fairly certain the Monorhans would find his actions rude, but B’Elanna’s comment had stuck in his craw. Time to listen to some of my own advice and be cautious.

  Five minutes later, his caution was rewarded. The airlock cycled open and two broad-shouldered figures loped out, both wearing what Chakotay would have found to be heavy, uncomfortable environment suits, but to the Monorhans were probably no more than a minor annoyance. “Wait until they’re five meters away, Smothers, then lower the shields and open the hatch.”

  “Got it, sir.”

  “Are you watching the airlock?”

  “Yes, sir. Are we expecting to see something?”

  “No. Just being careful.”

  The Monorhans, too, were being careful, both of them taking their time picking across the broken concrete outside the airlock.

  “Can you run a scan on the forcefields, Smothers? And anything you can tell me about their environment suits would be useful.”

  Smothers attempted to coax useful information out of the shuttle’s small sensor package. “Not much on the shields, sir. I’m reading about twenty gigawatts, a lot of heat radiating into the atmosphere. If their planet wasn’t already such a mess, I’d say that these fields weren’t doing them much good. Otherwise, there’s nothing revolutionary about what I’m seeing: they’re the great-great-grandfathers of Voyager’s shields.”

  “And the suits?”

  “Again, nothing too interesting. These might be the short-range version, because they’re not recycling water or atmo. Just a small air bottle on the back, some decent linings in the hoods to keep the rads out. That’s it, really.”

  “All right, Ensign. They’re close enough. Drop the shields and open the hatch. Let’s get out of here as fast as we can.”

  The Monorhans knuckled into the shuttle—the first one’s shoulders were as wide as the hatch—then waited patiently while Chakotay and Smothers helped them remove their bulky hoods and packs. When they were uncovered, Chakotay was surprised to find that the second figure was a female. Though shaped like Ziv and the others, she was a third smaller and wore the same shapeless tunic Shalla Kiiy had. Fortunately, Tuvok’s patch to the universal translator worked with the shuttle’s smaller unit, and they were able to communicate.

  A thought struck Chakotay suddenly, one that he realized should have occurred to him hours ago. “Only two of you?” he asked.

  The female replied, “Yes, just two. Did Shalla Kiiy indicate there might be more?”

  “No,” Chakotay said. “We don’t know much about this yet, but Captain Ziv’s hara is larger. It never occurred to me that a hara could be only two.”

  “We are not a hara, Commander,” the woman said. “There is no formal link between us. Not all Monorhans choose to be in hara, sometimes for personal reasons, sometimes professional. Some occupations make the hara link quite impractical. Others are simply congenitally incapable—a small, sad minority. For myself, my life has taken me down many paths. I have been in hara, both as haran and haras, but today I travel only as myself, as Sem, rih-hara-tan.”

  “Sem?” Chakotay asked. “Aren’t you Ziv’s leader?”

  “The rih-hara-tan of Ziv’s tribe,” Sem said. “Yes.”

  Chakotay studied the small figure for several seconds, trying to read something in her expression, but finally had to give up. She was, after all, an alien. He could not know what was in her heart by what he read on her face. Not any more than I could with most humans, he
concluded, but there was something…something about her that made the skin on the back of his scalp itch. “All right,” Chakotay finally said. “If you’ll just strap yourselves in, we’ll be on our way.”

  Settling into the pilot’s chair, Chakotay softly asked Smothers if the shields were back up. “Just as soon as the door shut behind them, sir.”

  “Good job, Ensign. Get us back home. I’m going to mind the sensors as we fly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chakotay kept a careful watch on the sensor output, finding nothing unusual as they traveled, but only really letting out his breath completely when he picked up Voyager on the short-range scopes. Just as they slipped into the shuttlebay, the second shuttle, with B’Elanna at the pilot’s station, was lifting up off the deck. B’Elanna even waved and smiled as they slid past and through the forcefield.

  Maybe I’ve been letting my sense of caution get the best of me, he thought as the shuttle’s pads clicked against the deck. Maybe everything will be fine. But it was hard to shake B’Elanna’s comment out of his head.

  Famous last words.

  Chapter 8

  And everything had been going so well, too. B’Elanna thought.

  The Doctor had let Tom out of sickbay duty so there was time for a proper goodbye before B’Elanna headed down to deck ten and the shuttlebay. When she got there, Clemens was just finishing refastening his preflight and did not give her one of his Why don’t you send your people down here to help me with these things? looks. The engines powered up on the first try, and all the diagnostics looked good. Seven showed up on time (no surprise there, really), but she didn’t recheck all the shuttle’s systems before strapping in. The shuttle’s nav computer successfully downloaded Chakotay’s sensor logs as they passed each other, and, hey, Seven was even fairly quiet and unannoying except for the standard entirely understandable system reports. The ten-minute flight into Monorha’s lower stratosphere was utterly, completely predictable.

  Humming something cheerful and tuneless, B’Elanna had just begun to bring the shuttle in below the cloud layer, leveling off, their airspeed just over six hundred klicks per hour, when every single system went into catastrophic failure. Suddenly, the only light in the cabin was the rosy glow of the sun through the port windows. B’Elanna’s pupils snapped open so fast in a frantic attempt to absorb all possible light that she thought she heard them pop. Her bowels contracted, and the adrenaline surge hit her like a brick to the back of the head. Time dilated and slowed.