STAR TREK - VOY - 14 - Marooned

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Star Trek - Voy - 014 - Marooned

By: CHRISTIE GOLDEN

PROLOGUE

Kula DHAD HASTENED DOWN THE CROWDED SQUARE, HIS cape folded tightly about his tall,

bony frame despite the warmth of this city's midday. The courier was more accustomed to conversing

with his commander in the comforting, familiar surroundings of gleaming metal, deep, soft chairs, and

regulated temperatures. But the commander had selected this out-of-the-way corner of an

out-of-the-way planet for their rendezvous, and who was Kula Dhad to object?

Dhad brushed against the people he had been surgically altered to resemble, forced himself to smile and

apologize when bodies collided a tad too harshly. They returned the smile, not realizing its falseness, and

moved aside, these witless, technologically poor beings, their slitted eyes blinking much more rapidly than

Dhad's.

And the smell! Shamaris expressed their emotions through scents as well as gestures and vocalizations.

Dhad had been around them long enough to realize that the nearly choking odor that waited up from the

groups of humanoids represented a state of pleasurable tranquillity. It had been difficult to figure out a

way to emulate that form of communication; still, they had managed. But oh, he'd far rather breathe the

fumes of the guara pits of Burara Six than that reeking scent of happiness that emanated from the

contented Shamaris.

He swallowed hard and continued on, folding his nostril flaps closed against the stench.

Up ahead, the commander had told him, would be a weaver's stall. There, Dhad would meet someone

who would send him on to the formal meeting site. Dhad could see it now, the brightly colored fabrics

contrasting vividly with the pale purple sands. He closed his eyes briefly in relief. The end of his journey

was almost at hand.

Four strong fingers closed on his shoulder. Dhad gasped as he felt the cool metal of a weapon-what kind

he didn't know and wasn't about to inquire at this juncture-pressing into the puffy flesh of his neck.

"You have been identified as a courier of the Ja'in, a voice rasped in his ear. "Come with me, please."

Dhad closed his eyes, wishing he'd had the foresight to bring something, anything, with which to end his

wretched existence before questioning. Amiable as they were at most times, the Shamari loathed the

pirates with an intensity that matched their smell, and Dhad knew that to fall into their handspaws?-would

mean pain beyond belief.

He thought about struggling, ending it quickly, but as if reading his thoughts his mysterious captor said,

"The weapon stuns only. You will not escape our wrath, courier."

Dhad considered the options, then complied. No one seemed to notice anything amiss, and he wondered

at that. It was almost as if his captor were as anxious to avoid discovery as he was, and that could only

mean... "C-Commander?" Dhad asked in a voice that quivered. Laughter was his reward, a cool

chuckle, cool as the metal that was now removed from his tender throat.

"Ah, there is no fooling you, is there?" replied the Commander of the Ja'in as he stepped around to face

Dhad.

He was as unrecognizable as Dhad himself was. Both now resembled the members of the Shamari

merchant class they pretended to be. There was no hint of the normal good looks of the pirate leader

about that homely face now. He slipped a comradely arm about Dhad and the latter breathed a slight sigh

of relief that he had remained silent. Had he confessed to the "Shamari law enforcer," his commander

would have slain him on the spot, no matter what treasure he carried.

There was no room for a traitor among the Ja'in.

Dhad followed as his leader guided him down the winding streets, at last into a rundown stone building

that appeared from the outside to be nothing more than a humble. Shamari's home. The commander

nodded to what seemed to be a pair of beggars, dropping shu-stones into their hands and waving aside

their effusive thanks. Dhad didn't recognize them, but he would have bet a year's haul of goods that they

were guards, and he would not have lost.

Inside, in the cool darkness, was a jumbled collection of machines and gadgets that would have stunned

the low-tech Shamaris. Lights blinked on and off; soft, whirring sounds hummed through the room.

The commander pulled off his cloak and straightened to his full height of just over two meters. He

lounged in a chair and reached for one of the orange, spiky fruits on the table. Biting into it, he wiped at

the juice that flowed down his chin and ordered, "Show me what you have for me, Dhad."

The courier hastened to obey, dropping a tiny square piece of metal into a hologram unit and activating it

quickly. Then he stepped back, hardly breathing, with a desperate hope that his master would be

pleased.

On the table before the commander appeared the image of a ship. Its lines were smooth and sleek, the

metal of its hull softly illuminated by tiny pricks of variously colored lights from within.

The Ja'in leader frowned. "I've seen this vessel," he rumbled. "Several months ago, in fact. Your gossip is

hardly timely, Dhad, if this is all you have for me."

Dhad began to feel nervous. "But-it is headed toward this sector, Great One, and our spies report that it

has heard nothing of the Ja'in."

The commander laughed. "What use is that to me?"

"With a ship like Voyager, Great One, you could conquer the whole quadrant!"

"And how, pray, would I be able to conquer Voyager?" the pirate shot back. "No ship I have could best

it, and I will not jeopardize the base for it. If I have learned one thing in my four millennia, it is caution.

No, Dhad, have you nothing better to show me?"

Dhad swallowed hard and resisted the temptation to brush at the sweat that started to dapple his

graygreen brow. "Perhaps my master has not seen the curiosities that are aboard Voyager, " he said, with

a ghastly attempt at nonchalance.

He fiddled with the machine and images appeared. The commander leaned forward, his slitted eyes

narrowing, the orange fruit forgotten. Hope flickered inside Dhad.

"This hologram was made secretly, when members of the crew of Voyager took shore leave on Tajos

Prime several weeks ago." Emboldened by the commander's interested reaction, he added, falsely,

"Three lives were lost in getting this to you."

The commander shot Dhad a look that instantly deflated him. "That, I doubt, Dhad. Who and what am I

seeing?."

"This female," and Dhad pointed at the Rhulanoid woman whose thick hair was pulled back and clasped

at the back of her neck, "is the captain of the vessel. She is from a species known as human. Most of her

crew are humans. This is her security officer. Members of his race are called Vulcans."

"Vule,ans," repeated the commander, and smiled. "A pleasing name on the tongue. Oh-and this one.

What is it?"

Dhad could taste the promotion. "That is a halfhuman, half-Klingon woman. She is the chief engineer.

That funny green-blue one is a Bolian. And this, Great One," and Dhad touched a button that changed

the scene, "is a being called an Ocampa."

A ten-centimeter-high vision of feminine grace stood on the tabletop. Her hair was long and yellow, the

golden ringlets coyly hiding ears that appeared to curl in on themselves to form a point. Slim was her

body, and wise were her eyes. She moved with a deep grace that touched even Dhad. The pirate leader

stared, as if transfixed.

:"By the Makers," he breathed, "she's-"

"Beautiful?" prompted Dhad eagerly.

The commander shook his head, never taking his eyes from the girl. "No. More than that. Perfect. What

is her name?"

"She is called Kes. And," Dhad puffed himself up, about to utter the words that would clinch his

promotion, "her race lives only nine years!"

"What?" gasped the commander, dragging his eyes away from the hologram. "If you are lying to me-"

"No, Great One, I swear! I heard her talking. Only nine years."

The commander fell silent, watching the miniature woman, his eyes roving over her face, her figure. "You

say Voyager is approaching this sector?" Dhad nodded. "Then we must welcome them properly. You did

right to show this to me. I think you deserve a reward, Dhad. I think I shall enlist your aid in my quest."

"Then, you will try to take Voyager?"

The commander shook his head, his gaze drawn inexorably to the tiny, delicate girl-woman on the table.

"No. I will take Kes."

"OH, LOOK, CAPTAIN! THE CYMARRI'S FINALLY STARTED to bloom!"

Kes clapped her hands together delightedly, radiating pleasure as she hastened to the fragile blossom that

was only just beginning to unfurl its petals. She reached to touch the trembling purple plant with gentle

fingers.

"I've been wondering if this would happen at all. Six months is a long time in the life cycle of this plant."

She chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I was worried I'd killed it."

"You?" It was Captain Kathryn Janeway's turn to laugh. "You were born with what my mother would call

a green thumb." Janeway permitted herself a moment to look around at the wonders Kes's diligent care

had wrought. Though the Ocampa's "garden"

was a feast for the eye, it was the fruits-and roots, and leaves, and berries-of these plants that would

eventually become real feasts. Kes's work here was, in its own way, almost as vital as the tasks she

performed in sickbay.

"Mmmmm," Kes breathed, closing her eyes as she pressed her face into the flower. "It smells so

beautiful. Captain, you must smell this!"

"What you and I both must do is head over to transporter room one," Janeway chided, feeling a smile

creep onto her face nonetheless at Kes's rapture over the flower's fragrance. It was a pretty picture, no

doubt, this image of the fragile, elfin girl surrounded by a riot of colorful plants. "The administrator is

waiting for us."

Kes nodded her comprehension, all business now, save for a last, lingering touch of the cymarri's soft

petals. As they left, the door hissed quietly shut behind them.

"I'm rather looking forward to this," Janeway said as the two strode down the corridor. "We haven't seen

all that many space stations here in the Delta quadrant."

"Are there many of them in the Alpha Quadrant?"

Kes queried.

"Oh, yes. They're quite common indeed."

"Why do you think they're not so numerous here?" teaming. Kes always seemed to want to be learning. It

was as if, Janeway mused with a sudden, unexpected pang of sorrow, the Ocampan were trying to cram

a dozen lifetimes into the nine brief years allotted to her species.

"We've yet to encounter an organization comparable to our Federation out here. Without a unified group

of planets deciding to support a station, there's really no point in having one. Oasis, though, is right in the

middle of a cluster of class M planets, and at least according to Administrator Yashar, it seems to be

doing well enough. If that's the case, then I'm hopeful they may have some star charts to sell."

They turned a corner. Janeway nodded in greeting to a young ensign who hastened past. In the back of

her mind, Janeway noted that the youth looked tired. Yashar had mentioned that Oasis would be a

pleasant spot for some shore leave. Depending on what the away team found, that might not be such a

bad idea.

"I'm particularly looking forward to the greenhouse that Administrator Yashar mentioned," said Kes,

interrupting Janeway's thoughts.

"You haven't seen all that many," Janeway replied. "It's logical, when you think about it. A space station.

can be pretty cold and sterile. Something green and living-that can brighten the spirit a great deal. And it

might be particularly important to the local culture. Many civilizations have sacred groves or their

equivalents." She glanced over at Kes, her eyes dancing. "Like your garden, for example."

Kes caught the teasing and laughed. Together they entered the transporter room to find the other

members of the away team, B'Elanna Torres, Tom Paris, and Neelix, waiting impatiently.

Still smiling to herself, Janeway stepped lightly onto the platform. "Energize."

Their host's voice floated to Janeway's ears even before she had finished materializing.

"May I be the first to welcome you to Oasis, Captain Janeway."

The captain turned to greet Aren Yashar, the station's administrator. He bowed deeply, and Janeway and

her crew members imitated the movement.

Janeway had already conversed with Administrator Yashar via the ship's viewscreen, but she always

looked forward to the first personal contact. Much could be negotiated without two parties ever meeting,

and often was, of course, but Janeway liked to size up friend and foe alike in person when she could.

Yashar did not disappoint. Tall, elegant, the Rhulani administrator of Space Station Oasis was almost

completely human in appearance. Long, blue-black hair fell down his back, elaborately bound with

variously colored ribbons. The nails on the ends of his fingers were painted and filed to points. It was

only when one looked closely that one noticed that the eyebrows were much thinner and placed higher

on the forehead than was common with humans. The most startling difference was also subtle-the Rhulani

race, of which Aren was a member, had iridescent webbing between those sharp-nailed fingers. He wore

full-length robes of shiny material, and stood straight and tall. Despite the courteous bow, Janeway got

the impression that Aren considered her an equal. She liked that.

"Thank you, Administrator Yashar, for inviting US."

He held up a hand in mild protest, the webbing flashing brightly for an instant, then disappearing. "Ah,

please. I prefer Aren. Among my people, the use of the second name denotes extreme formality or

hostility, neither of which, I hope, will set the tone for our relationship."

Janeway nodded her head slightly. "As you wish, Aren. Allow me to introduce the members of my away

team. This is Lieutenant Tom Paris, one of our flight controllers; our Chief Engineer, B'Elanna Torres;

Neelix, our chef and morale officer; and Kes, our medical assistant and resident expert on various

plants."

Janeway glanced around as her crew exchanged pleasantries with Aren, and her smile faded somewhat.

Her initial impression, gleaned from her earlier conversations with Aren, was that this was a space station

operating at full capacity. She was wrong.

They had noted three ships already docked at the station prior to Voyager's arrival, and there was the

steady hum of voices in the background that indicated a number of beings. Certainly, many individuals of

a variety of races made their busy ways along the open area that was, apparently, the merchant's row of

the station.

But several stores were closed or in a state of disrepair. Despite the crowds, the place... felt vacant.

Janeway could sense her crew's disappointment, a mirror of her own, as they took in the curving white

metal walls, the honeycombed ceiling in which were set soft, glowing orbs of light. Too big for the

number of people here; too empty for the number of shops with closed doors and covered windows.

"Not what it once was, I'm afraid," said Aren, bringing the captain's attention back to her host. Clearly,

he had followed her gaze and seen her reaction. "I apologize. Would that Oasis were the thriving port it

has been in the past, but it can be again, Captain, which was why I was so eager for you to visit US."

"Was there some sort of trouble?"

Sorrow and something a touch harder made the administrator frown. "Trouble. Yes, that word will do as

well as any other," he said somberly. "Come and walk through the Tradesman's Sector with me and I will

tell you what happened. But first," and with a smile and a flourish Aren produced a small, shiny oval from

a pocket hidden somewhere in his voluminous robes, "here are the star charts you requested."

Janeway accepted the smooth-crystal? stone?with pleasure. "But Aren, we haven't yet negotiated a trade

for this."

"Your presence and that of your crew will be trade enough. You have seen the stores standing empty.

Do you not think those merchants who are able to reopen their shops would be thrilled to have your

crew purchasing items from them? Honest trade, Captain, with honest people-that is all Oasis is about; all

it has ever been about. Not so long ago, I could rent out the smallest stall here for a t-'iousand kuristos,

and the merchant would call it cheap at four thousand. But ever since the Ja'in came ..."

He sighed. "Will you walk with me, and at least see what Oasis has to offer? Everyone here has heard

tales of our visitors from a far distant part of the galaxy.

Your patronage would heighten station morale beyond price, I assure you."

A quick glance at her crew showed her that they were as curious as their captain, so Janeway nodded

and indicated that Aren should proceed. "Ah, I am grateful, Captain. Now, where was I?"

"The Ja'in," prompted Torres. "What happened?

Was there a war?"

"Of a sort," replied Aren. He clasped his hands behind him and began to lead his visitors along the rows

of shops. For the first time, Janeway got a brief glimpse of his back. Two large lumps below the shoulder

blades marred the otherwise sleek, long back of the Rhulani administrator. Almost immediately, Aren

gracefully maneuvered himself so that the unsightly protuberances were no longer visible.

It was a subtle gesture, but Janeway was used to picking up on subtleties from alien races. Aren was

uncomfortable with her seeing the malformations.

A deformity? Janeway wondered. A trait of his race not meant to be shared with outsiders? Whichever it

was, it piqued her curiosity and she made a point of not discomfiting her host further by staring.

"But you cannot have a -var without an opponent, and the shopkeepers, patrons, crew, and staff of

Oasis could hardly be called that. Oasis is neutral in any conflicts between the five planets of the Oryma

system, and has been that way ever since it was established. We were certainly attacked, but it was a

very one-sided war. "The Ja'in, you see, are pirates."

There came a decidedly inappropriate snort of laughter from the direction of Tom Paris. Aren frowned,

and Janeway caught a glimpse of something hard beneath the friendly surface. Janeway couldn't blame

him, and shot Paris a warning glance. The young lieutenant composed himself at once, but Janeway

wasn't going to let him get off so easily.

"Something amuse you, Mr. Paris?" she asked in a deceptively conversational tone.

"No, Captain, nothing at all. I apologize. Please continue, Administrator." A blush warmed his cheeks.

Taking pity on him, Janeway turned to Aren, who still looked angry. "Where we come from, we are

fortunate that piracy is very rare indeed. Most of us think of pirates as something from antiquityquaint,

rather than formidable. Lieutenant Paris was no doubt thinking of ribald tales rather than something very

real and very dangerous."

"Ah, a cultural difference," said Aren, calming visibly. "It has been so long since anyone truly alien to us

has visited Oasis, I forgot how one can occasionally brush up against such things. I quite understand."

He granted Paris a sj,-le and had just opened his mouth to continue when a woman's angry voice

cracked like a whip.

"I don't care!"

Despite herself, Janeway turned her head to discover the source of the outburst. Two young Rhulani

leaned up against one of the white, curving metal walls. The female had her arms fojded across her chest

in a posture that, in humans, signaled both defense and defiance.

The male ran his hands through his long hair in exasperation. "Dear one, I swear to you, that relationship

was over a long time ago."

The girl pouted. "Not the way she was touching you, it wasn't!"

"Now, that's not my fault."

"Oh, really?"

"If I wanted to be with someone else, would I be giving you this?" The youth produced something that

glittered, that caused the young woman to squeal happily and embrace him.

Janeway felt a smile curve her lips, and caught Aren smiling as well. They exchanged a knowing look.

"Cultural similarities, " said Aren.

Janeway's smile became a full-fledged chuckle. Some things, it would seem, were indeed universal.

"Anyway," Aren continued both his walk and his story, "you may take it from me that these pirates were

brutally efficient. Even after all these years, you can see the results of their handiwork. They hit us hard

and left many dead. It is fortunate that Oasis is as valued as it is. In fairly short order a display of

combined force from all of the nations with a vested interest in this station managed to drive the Ja'in from

our space. But we are only now starting to recover economically. Voyager is one of the first visiting ships

to enter our space since we reestablished business activity on the station. We occasionally do business

with the Thatli, but," he smiled, "insectoid races don't generally require the same things that we do.

"Now," and he looked around at the away team, perhaps you can tell me what your interests are and I

can steer you in the right direction. We're at the heart of the Tradesman's Sector now and you can see all

the open shops from here. Perhaps you are hungry?" he asked, hopeful.

"A little thirsty," said Paris. "Is that a, uh, tavern of some sort?" He gestured at a dimly lit establishment

where several patrons were lifting glasses.

"It is indeed. Jakrig's, is the name. Ask about the P,hulani flower liquor. And-B'Elanna, is it? I believe

your captain said you were interested in speaking with one of our repair personnel."

"That's right," began Torres, "we were wondering if-"

"I do apologize," a voice interrupted. A smaller, rounder Rhulani scurried up to them, consternation on his

face. "Administrator, I'm afraid there's been a malfunction in our system. All the accounts have been

affected, and-"

Aren groaned. "Not that again. I just correctednever mind. Captain, you must excuse me. If I don't

straighten out these accounts at once, I'll have some very unhappy merchants on my hands. Would you

and your crew like to reschedule your visit, or do you feel comfortable enough to continue exploring on

your own?"

"We'll be just fine, thank you. Now that we're here, I wouldn't mind doing a little shopping." And if these

star charts are as accurate as I'm hoping, it'll be a fair trade indeed, she thought. Neelix had done an

admirable job the last few years of playing native guide, but they had exhausted even his extensive

knowledge of Is the Delta quadrant. Star charts of the area would be a lifeline.

And besides, her quarters could use a little something colorful.

Aren brightened at her words and executed a deep bow. Again, Janeway caught a glimpse of the lumps

on his back as she bowed in return. "Lieutenant Torres, the repair sector is along that corridor and-Kes

and Neelix, yes? Our hydroponics arboretum and grocery is right over there. We're rather proud of it

here on Oasis; if you're interested in fresh foodstuffs, please tell the gardener on duty that I sent you.

Again, my apologies. Perhaps I'll be able to finish this quickly and catch up with you, though sadly, I

doubt it."

He turned, clasping the smaller man by the shoulder, and walked quickly away, listening to his assistant

explain something about lost data and glitches.

"I take it then, Captain, that we may consider ourselves off duty for a bit?" asked Paris, looking hopeful

at the prospect.

"You may, Mr. Paris, but don't drink too much of that Rhulani flower liquor. I expect you back on the

bridge and up to speed within the hour." She glanced around at Torres, Kes, and Neelix. "That goes for

the rest of you, too. We don't want to overstay our welcome this first time. As for payment, I advise you

to remember that whatever you purchase comes out of your rations unless it's something specifically for

the ship. Other than that-enjoy. Dismissed."

She gave them a warm smile as the four immediately dispersed. They looked like schoolchildren hearing

the bell for recess. Paris headed straight for Jakrig's, Torres moved with a determined stride down the

corridor in the direction of the repair facilities, and Neelix and Kes moved in tandem to the arboreturn.

They were chatting excitedly at the prospect of what they might find there, and that, more than anything,

made Janeway glad. Their love for one another had once been very strong, so strong that she'd have

sworn nothing could come between them. But of course something had, and everything was different

now. The violent possession of Kes's body by the alien Tieran had changed the Ocampa, ripping much of

her innocence from her and altering all of her relationships with those close to her. Her love affair with

Neelix had been the most extreme casualty; they had broken up soon afterward.

Janeway worried about it at first. At times she thought of Voyager as the proverbial ship in a bottle,

except it was more like a ship as a bottle. They were all they had out here, and a thousand shore leaves

and a million adventures could not change that one fact. Anything that affected an individual affected

everyone in such a situation-especially when it concerned the morale officer.

She soon realized that she'd underestimated both Neelix and Kes. She wasn't privy to their most private

thoughts, of course, but it was plain to see that they were determined to let passion mellow into a rich,

deep friendship. That was never easy, but, Janeway knew, if such a thing could be done, it was always

worth it.

She watched them enter the arboretum, thought about joining them, then remembered a beautiful statue

she'd glimpsed in a little shop a few stores back.

She'd leave Kes and Neelix alone, let them amble about in a tranquil, lovely place that brought them both

joy. Meanwhile, she'd see if she couldn't get a deal on that statue.

How clever, thought Kes as they entered, using these trailing leaves as the doorway!

She extended a small hand and gently pushed the drooping fronds from an alien tree aside, holding them

back so they wouldn't catch poor Neelix in the face. "Isn't this lovely? If only I could have something like

this in my hydroponics bay!"

"It reminds me of the tree the humans call the weeping willow," said Neelix, looking about. "Goodness,

what a lot of plants."

"We do our best," came a voice from behind them. "I'm the gardener, T'loori Hro. Is there anything in

particular you're looking for?"

Kes turned, saw no one, then glanced down. T'Loori Hro was just shy of a meter in height with pale

purple skin and large, black eyes. She had no discernible nose or ears and only a slit for a mouth.. Her

body was round, but the small appendages that served for legs and arms seemed adequate to perform

tasks. With such a lack of facial features, it was difficult to read her expression, but Kes's commbadge

had translated the voice as feminine and friendly.

"We're from the starship Voyager, " Kes replied, dropping to one knee to be closer to Hro's height. "I'm

Kes, and this is my friend Neelix. We're particu larly interested in any fruit-bearing plants or vegetables

you might have to sell."

liro waved a stubby arm. "Please don't feel you need to crouch, Kes. My people have been dealing with

you Talls for centuries. Please," and she waved Kes back to her feet.

"Your station administrator Aren Yashar directed us to you," said Neelix.

"Ah!" There was no change of expression, but the voice was obviously pleased. "Then he'll be wanting

me to show you some of the special fungi I keep back here. Which of you will be preparing the meals?"

Neelix stood a little straighter. "That's my job," he said solemnly. Hro bobbed her small head in

acknowledgment.

"And clearly you are aware of the responsibility," Hro replied with equal seriousness. "Aren has chosen

well. I think you will do justice to my fungi. Will you come with me, please?"

Neelix shot Kes a pleased grin, and she smiled back. The Talaxian took his job as morale officer aboard

Voyager very seriously, and preparing meals was his favorite aspect of the position. He looked on it as a

life-giving task, a way to both nourish and nurture the crew, and he was always disappointed that most of

his carefully prepared meals were underappreciated.

Kes herself loved everything Neelix cooked. Perhaps tastes were simply different in the far-distant Alpha

quadrant. She shared his excitement at being shown new and exotic foodstuffs and was as delighted as

he with the opportunity.

She, however, was much more interested in a strange-looking tree back in the corner. Its bark was dark

blue and its serrated leaves were almost as pale gold as her own hair. One giant, purple blossom unfurled

as she watched.

"Oh," she gasped, and strode forward to bury her face in the flower.

She frowned. There was no smell. That in itself was not unusual; some flowers had scents that were

imperceptible to the Ocampan olfactory system. But the scentless flower suddenly made Kes realize that

nothing in this arboretum smelled. At all.

"Something wrong, Kes?" She jumped, startled, then managed a smile for Aren Yashar. The man was as

quiet as a pad-footed siaa'

"Hello, Administrator. Nothing's wrong, really, it's just-" Now that she had to articulate it, Kes felt

foolish. But still, surely, not all the plants in here were scentless. Still puzzling over it, she absently reached

to touch the odorless purple flower.

Her fingers went right through it.

Kes gasped, turning to face Aren, a question on her lips. The words died as she saw that the

administrator had something metallic and dangerous looking pointed directly at her.

"It's time to leave, my dear. And if you utter one word, Hro has orders to murder your friend."

Tom PARIS HAD ENURED MAW A BAR IN HIS DAY, AM all of them, he had discovered, had a

few things in common.

Beverages of varying potencies were always served. A large member of the predominant race lurked by

the door, ready to eject customers who had overindulged in those beverages. The lighting was dim, and

some kind of game of chance was usually being played.

He found all of these traditional elements to be present in Jakrig's establishment, and a faint smile touched

his lips. In the midst of strangeness, there was always something familiar about a bar. He knew what to

expect and how to behave.

Much talk was going on as he entered the darkened room, and way in the back some creature that

looked unsettlingly like a praying mantis busily worked a variety of instruments to produce something that

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StarTrek-Voy-014-MaroonedBy:CHRISTIEGOLDENPROLOGUEKulaDHADHASTENEDDOWNTHECROWDEDSQUARE,HIScapefoldedtightlyabouthistall,bonyframedespitethewarmthofthiscity'smidday.Thecourierwasmoreaccustomedtoconversingwithhiscommanderinthecomforting,familiarsurroundingsofgleamingmetal,deep,softchairs,andregulatedt...

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STAR TREK - VOY - 14 - Marooned

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