Ghost of a Chance (11 page)

Composed of thousands of glowing or darkened tubes all set in massive, curving banks of smooth metal, the components reminded Janeway of heat sinks coupled with scores of generators, though the scale was beyond her experience. Several of the tubes stretched from the plateau upward into the darkness of the cavern’s ceiling. Still others twisted back into the cavern wall. Small, flat panels were scattered in wavelike patterns throughout the apparatus. Janeway tried to move toward the machine, but her feet would not cooperate.

Trapped, she thought, choking briefly, wondering how long she could survive in the heavily tainted atmosphere. What kind of dream is this? she wondered. Unless it wasn’t any kind of dream at all. And if it wasn’t, it occurred to her that death might be a real possibility here.

She had never dreamed in such vivid colors before or wiped wet tears from her cheeks as the smoke continued to irritate her eyes, nor had she ever coughed so. No dream was this clear.

She closed her eyes, rubbing them against the sting. When she opened them again, she saw something pass by just over her shoulder, moving swiftly along the plateau’s edge. She turned to follow it with her eyes, but only caught a glimpse of a tenuous figure, almost impossible to see in the strangely lit, heavily polluted air. Still, it reminded her of a similar apparition she had encountered once before, aboard Voyager. Another of Chakotay’s visiting spirits… or hers.

She saw several figures now, each so vague she could barely be certain she was observing anything at all. Yet she could sense them, too.

Near her. Almost a part of her. Then the dream began to fade away, replaced by growing darkness. She wondered if this was indeed the end.

The ghosts had somehow brought her here, and the poisons in the air were killing her. Perhaps they didn’t know, she thought. She found it impossible to believe that the ghosts would go to so much trouble, aboard Voyager and then here, simply to lure her to an elaborate death.

The darkness became nearly complete. She waited for pain, for panic, for anything, but nothing happened. Then, in a sudden fresh glow, the cavern dreams were replaced by a new image, that of a fantastic alien vessel, a ship several hundred times Voyager’s size, and completely unknown; in all her studies of countless Starfleet and alien records and in all her travels, she had seen nothing to compare with the ship that was now passing before her, blocking countless stars from view.

Composed mostly of smooth, curved sections, the ship glowed brightly in the night like Earth’s own moon. It featured several towering assemblies of tubes not unlike those that made up much of the machine in the cave. She saw the ship passing star systems, countless numbers of them, traveling on for what must have been ages.

Then the ghost that had appeared to her in her ready room was there again, drifting nearly formless in the dark as the alien vessel and its universe faded from view. The ghost called to her as it had before, communicating without words, telling her to come, telling her of its pain, and pleading with her… for help.

Gantel paced the floor in front of the lavish, thickly upholstered chair that dominated the center of the cruiser’s bridge. The chew stem he held between his teeth had turned ragged and lost all its flavor, and the subtle effects of its mildly euphoric chemical contents had long since worn off. He had another stem in his pocket, but he wanted to keep his edge just now, much as it pained him to admit it.

“Sit,” his second associate, Triness, told him, making the request sound as much like a demand as possible. “You always think of something.” She was the only one on the ship who would dare speak to Gantel in such a tone, at least where nonbusiness issues were concerned; he was constantly challenged during general commerce sessions, but that was only to be expected.

Here he outranked everybody, and he seldom let anyone forget it.

“I will sit when I can do so with a favorable review in my hands,” he said, pausing long enough to rake his long fingers through his great mane of thick white hair. “I will sit when my apparently overrated acquisitions director has something positive to tell me, instead of zero gain after zero gain.”

“Daket deserves his rating, and you know it,” Triness said, though she was apparently only defending the first associate on general grounds.

“You want everything to go perfectly, of course, but even you cannot bend the universe to your will. And neither can Daket. He has been faced with many—” “Unforeseen difficulties. I know.”

“An associate in his position, I think, requires a certain—” “Triness!” Gantel interrupted sharply, failing in his attempt to keep his voice level. “We are faced with an impending visit by First Director Shaale herself. I can grant Daket all the dispensations in the universe, but Shaale will require a great deal of me. I know the acquisitions team has… legitimate excuses, but Shaale never puts those two words together. In the meantime I have to make deals and apparently concessions with these Federation people, none of which makes good sense so far—unless we get results. But for the time being, I am dancing slow and dancing fast at the same time.”

“I’d forgotten what a good dancer you are.” Triness smiled curtly.

“How long has it been since we danced? The last time was on Grelra Seven, I think, just after the revolt.”

“Which revolt?”

It was a joke. Triness chuckled. “Why would anyone keep track?”

“I don’t know,” Gantel said, chuckling with her just a bit.

“You have been regional leader seven times, my dear,” Triness cooed, playing the part of a doting mate, something she had never actually been. They were not lovers, though neither of them had yet ruled out that possibility.

Gantel eyed her warily. “What of it?”

“That buys a lot of dispensation.”

“Ah, all true,” Gantel said, preening. “Quite true.”

“Even Shaale must take that into consideration.”

Gantel sighed. “In a perfect universe. You won’t mind if I worry just a little, all the same?”

“If you did not, you would not be a third director.”

They both smiled. After sixteen missions together, they were becoming quite a team. He took as much comfort as he could from the thought, then turned again to the business at hand. “It’s just so complicated.

The assignment gets more demanding and less manageable by the minute.

And I cannot decide whether these Federation people are a blessing or a curse. It would have been so much simpler if they had been relatively unarmed. Then we could have simply wiped them out.”

“Simplify,” Triness suggested, mostly in jest, “until you think of something.”

Another joke, but Gantel suddenly saw a way to take this to heart.

What he most wanted was a way to get these strange visitors out of the way, or better yet, entirely under control.

But there were many ways to control others.

“I may have an answer,” Gantel said, as the thought became fully formed in his mind, bringing with it a sense of relief. He always seemed to think of something. Always. He was simply reluctant to believe that circumstances would never change. “We will tell these Federation people the truth—or part of it, in any case. If we give them everything they want, more than likely we will not get what we want.

But if we give them just enough, they might believe… just enough.”

“They don’t seem like the cooperative type to me,” Triness said, understating the issue.

“Exactly. They’re going to discover the first director’s fleet soon enough, and that will complicate matters enormously. Unless…” He turned the thought over in his mind and noticed the most remarkable feature in the process. “Unless,” he continued, “we tell them ahead of time, make it part of the deal, and involve them, to an extent. After all, once the fleet arrives, our options will multiply by many factors.”

“That revelation must be handled correctly.”

“Of course.”

“And what will we have Jonal say we are doing about the components they have requested?”

“There are many such components among the holds of the first director’s fleet, are there not?”

“Yes, but—” “Well, then,” Gantel said, smiling, “we will simply tell them the truth!”

“The truth?”

Gantel’s smile broadened. “As any physician can tell you, even poison, in small doses, can sometimes be beneficial.”

“I see.” Triness tipped her head, a warm look of admiration on her face. “You know, I have always been attracted to the great contemporary artists.” She glanced at the others on the bridge, all of whom quickly found ways to mind their own business. Then she rose, leaned close to Gantel, and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’ll get Jonal and the others on the comm,” she said as she straightened up again. “But we will need to communicate our message very carefully.”

Gantel nodded, satisfied. “That will be fine.”

***

“I understand you have some additional news from the Televek,” Chakotay said. He glanced at the others in the briefing room: Paris, Neelix, and Kes were seated to his left at the table, the Drosary to his right, while two security officers remained stationed at the door. He felt a pang of apprehension, but he tried his best to suppress it, at least until he had heard the advocates out.

“Yes, Commander, I must inform you that we have met with a small problem,” Jonal said bleakly.

“More a minor delay, really,” Tassay explained.

For a brief instant Chakotay let doubt fill his thoughts and, with it, a flicker of rage. Negotiations had barely gotten under way, yet already they were turning into a delicate tangle, and each effort to smooth the way seemed to create new ripples. What now? he wondered wearily. There were nearly two hundred people aboard Voyager who were waiting for results and whose future depended on what their commander did or didn’t do, not to mention the fate of the captain and an unknown number of Drenarians on the planet below.

He took a deep breath. “And what is the nature of this, delay?”

Jonal folded both hands on the table in front of him, presenting himself as an individual who was suddenly completely at ease.

“To elaborate on what Gantel started to tell you earlier, the cruiser now in orbit is not a merchant vessel. In truth, they are carrying only enough spare parts and supplies to provide for their own minimum backup needs. Prudence requires they not compromise that status. The Televek neither expect nor desire further hostilities between your two peoples, but a systems failure aboard their vessel would leave them nearly defenseless—against you or any other threat that might arrive.”

“That would be unacceptable under any circumstances, as I am sure you can imagine,” Mila added.

“So you can’t supply us with the phaser flow regulator,” Paris said grimly, though as he glanced toward Mila, he smiled, affected by her look of concern. She had been clinging to Paris, just as Tassay seemed committed to following Chakotay around, as much as either man could allow. Neither of the women had been anything less than polite about it. In fact, the only ones aboard Voyager who weren’t being thoroughly polite were Neelix and, to a lesser extent, B’Elanna Torres.

Chakotay fixed his eyes on Jonal. “But how can we help you if you can’t help us?”

“Oh, I’m sure they have something in mind,” Neelix said. “I just wonder if anyone around here is going to like it.”

Chakotay found himself disposed to apologize for the short alien’s behavior, but he fought the urge. Neelix, after all, was an authority on this sector and its people, if an eccentric one.

All sensibilities aside, he could not be so easily dismissed, or censured.

“I think what Neelix means is that the Televek are a very resourceful people,” Kes offered, not above smoothing feathers where her mate was concerned, and used to it.

“Then he knows them well enough,” Tassay suggested.

Jonal smiled. “In fact, I am pleased to tell you that all will soon be well. The Televek have sent word to one of their merchant fleets, which was already bound for an area near this sector on quite another matter. The fleet contains several of the largest transports in the quadrant, and they are even now making their best speed toward our location. I am told your EPS regulator will be instantly obtained as soon as they arrive.”

“Also, the transports and the other ships will be on hand in the event that at least some of the population of Drenar Four can be evacuated, assuming that becomes necessary,” Mila said. “And of course to assist in any salvage operation we may be fortunate enough to undertake.”

“They should arrive sometime tomorrow,” Tassay assured the commander.

“That sounds reasonable to me,” Paris said.

The door hissed open, and B’Elanna Torres entered the room. She immediately sat at the end of the table nearest the door, opposite Chakotay, visually acknowledging everyone, her expression serious.

“Meanwhile, we might discuss the details of our joint mission to disarm the planet’s defensive system once everything is in place,” Jonal continued, “so that salvage will be possible.”

“In the interim, the Televek are still interested in your offer to share sensor specifications,” Tassay said. “It may help in our combined efforts to assess the situation on the planet.”

“I can see to that,” B’Elanna said. “If that’s what you want, Commander.” She fixed Chakotay with a pensive look that made him feel even more uneasy. Apparently her brief willingness to give the Drosary the benefit of the doubt had abated somewhat.

“It is,” the commander told her. “But I will approve all transmissions, and I would like to review the data we have received from the Televek cruiser.”

“Wonderful,” Jonal said.

“Yes, especially for the Televek,” Neelix remarked, rolling his eyes.

Kes squeezed his arm. “Neelix, please,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, “but if you ask me, these people have done nothing at all to earn our trust. Why should we give it to them just because they ask for it?”

“We are attempting to earn trust as we go,” Jonal said, “for both sides.”

“We have to try to work together,” Chakotay said. “There are many lives at stake.”