Mosaic (35 page)

didn't know the answers to these questions, but he was

certain their departure from the pit did not bode well. And

as if they read his mind, the creatures 262

began a disturbing sound, somewhere between a click and a

squeal. He made an automatic response.

"Fire," he ordered his men, and they immediately unleashed

their weapons on the creatures.

Under the withering barrage, the creatures began to emit a

high-pitched shriek that assaulted the eardrums like a

knife point. As they tumbled back into the pit, dead or

mortally wounded, a wretched odor began to emanate from

them, fouling the air even further.

But to Sittik's dismay, more and more of them began to

appear, rising from the dust-occluded pit which was now

becoming a graveyard, chittering in that unnerving wail

that chilled his blood and rent his ears. Where were they

all coming from? How could there be so many? The Kazon

soldiers kept up a relentless fusillade, but no matter how

many of the hard-shelled bodies tumbled, dying, into the

pit, even more took their place, pulsing upward on the

thick clouds of dust and smoke. Sittik found himself

coughing uncontrollably as his lungs tried to reject the

thick particulates they were being forced to ingest. The

Tokath were coursing upward, spilling out of the pit now,

too many for even the weapons of his men to dispatch.

He stared in amazement as they kept coming, dozens of them,

wings pulsing, pushing them beyond the bounds of the

depression in the ground.

Something wet hit his face and he daubed at it, then

screamed as it began eating into the skin of his cheek and

his hand. Frantically, he pawed at the awful substance,

which was quickly making a paste of his skin; the more he

tried to wipe it off, the deeper he gouged it in. He sank

to his knees, desperate with pain, trying to make a

poultice of dirt, smearing it into the wound but quickly

realizing nothing helped.

Another glob of the stuff hit him in the forehead, and the

process was begun again. Around him, he was vaguely aware

of his men in the same circumstances, and he realized that

these hideous creatures were emitting the noxious liquid,

spraying it from their underbellies, reducing his proud

squad to a wailing, helpless mass, squirming on the ground

and begging the gods to put an end to their misery.

That prayer, at least, would be answered, though not

quickly. Sittik looked up to see one of the creatures

flying at him, awful mandibles extended, then felt them

drill into his abdomen and clutch his intestines. The agony

redoubled as the creature tore his entrails from his body,

then seized them in its powerful jaws and began eating

them.

A blood-red cloud descended over Sittik's vision; in it

Kosla briefly danced as he realized he would not be

spending the night with her, or with anyone ever again, and

yet it didn't matter because oblivion was all he craved now

and it couldn't come quickly enough.

Trakis the physician worked the console quickly, nervous

that someone might enter unexpectedly and discover him. He

wasn't entirely familiar with the communications technology

on the Kazon ship-in their ineptitude, the Vistik had

cobbled together two separate systems that weren't

completely compatible, probably because they were incapable

of repairing either one.

He was working through the circuitry carefully, trying to

find a frequency upon which he could piggyback a message,

but the process was tedious and frustrating.

The body of the captive lay on the examination table,

dissected now as a result of his necropsy.

Trakis had found nothing remarkable during the procedure;

in spite of the Kazon belief that these creatures might be

harnessed in some way to act as a fighting force, the

physician could find no evidence that the Tokath possessed

a large enough brain to be intelligent. As he suspected,

they functioned purely on instinct-and as such, were an

unruly and potentially dangerous ally. It would be like

trying to train a pack of feral dogs.

Trakis finally found a frequency that looked promising, a

low-energy subspace band almost indistinguishable from the

ship's warp-core emissions, and he began a carefully

modulated series of hails. It would require some luck, to

be sure, but his chances of getting off this ship alive had

just risen dramatically.

"Captain, we're being hailed." Rollins looked down at her

in some puzzlement, and Janeway turned to him.

"By whom?"

"I'm not sure. It's coming from the Kazon ship, but the

message is being piggybacked on a very low frequency

subspace carrier wave. I don't know why the Kazon would go

to that trouble."

"On screen." She looked up and saw a staticky image fill

the screen; she couldn't see the figure well and couldn't

understand him because of a noisy interference.

"Attempting to clear the transmission," said Rollins, and

within seconds the sound had cleared significantly though

the image had improved only slightly.

"dis . . attempting to contact the Federations on their

ship. Is anyone receiving this message? I am Trakis, a

Trabe physician taken prisoner by the Kazon. Repeat, I am

attempting to contact the Federations-was "This is Captain

Janeway of Voyager. We are receiving you."

The figure on the screen seemed to slump in relief.

"Captain . . . I'm glad to hear from you. I'm asking for

asylum-the Vistik have no further use for me and I suspect

they'll terminate me soon. Can you use your technology

which transports individuals to bring me onto your ship?"

Janeway's mind raced, assessing risk factors. "Our

transporters only function within a distance of forty

thousand kilometers. We'd have to put ourselves in weapons

range of the Kazon-and at the moment our phaser arrays are

offline. What's more, we'd have to drop shields to bring

you on board."

The figure leaned toward the screen. She still couldn't see

him well through the interference, but she recognized the

desperate tone in his voice. "I have information which will

be of value to you-the reason the Kazon are so interested

in this planet, and why they are trying to destroy you."

"Dr. Trakis, you don't have to be valuable to us in order

for us to assist you. If we can help, we will."

"Thank you, Captain. I am in a small laboratory on the

starboard side of the ship, near the ventral airlocks."

"Remain at your station until you hear from us."

Trakis acknowledged, and the transmission ceased.

Janeway pondered the implications of this conversation.

It could be a Kazon trick, of course. That was probably the

more likely explanation. And yet, there was something

genuine in the fear Trakis had projected, and it was true

that a Trabe was never safe at the hands of the Kazon.

She was intrigued by his promise of information.

Did he know something that would help her retrieve her

crew? It was a tantalizing prospect. But before she could

reflect further, she was interrupted.

"Engineering to the bridge."

"Janeway here."

"Captain, we've got the phasers back."

"Good work, B'Elanna. What was it?" 266

"A microfracture in the PDM crystal. So small it was

virtually undetectable-we had to infer it from the prefire

chamber response. But we're back on-line now."

Janeway's mind raced. Now they could face the Kazon as

equals-even superiors. They must act quickly, while the

Kazon still thought they were disadvantaged. She turned to

Chakotay.

"Battle stations, Commander. Rollins, divert all auxiliary

power to the shields. Mr. Paris, take us out of the nebula

and in range of the Kazon ship."

The sleek ship hove to and began to move out of the

nebula. Janeway felt her pulse quicken as she anticipated

the encounter with the Kazon, hopeful they might be willing

to talk once they realized Voyager was back at full

strength.

"Mister Rollins, prepare to hail the Kazon ship as soon as

we've cleared the nebula and are within range."

"Aye, Captain. I've got them on sensors now. Hailing on

all channels." A minute passed, then another. Finally

Rollins stated the obvious: "They're not answering,

Captain." Then Chakotay reacted to something on the center

console.

"They're powering weapons."

"Ready evasive maneuver chi-eight, Mr. Paris. We're going

to have to pull a few tricks to get that Trabe doctor off

the ship."

But before she could indicate what those tricks might be,

the ship was rocked violently by a huge weapons blast. But

this time Voyager was ready, and though they were knocked

around, no serious damage was done. "Return fire, Rollins.

Target their weapons arrays and propulsion systems." "Aye,

Captain, firing."

Beams of phaser fire leapt across space toward the Kazon

ship, but hit only a glancing blow; the Kazon pilot was

also flying evasive maneuvers. Fire was returned, and the

two ships kept this barrage up for several minutes, Voyager

all the while working its way closer to the Kazon vessel.

"Captain, the shields are starting to degrade.

The closer we get to their ship, the more impact their

weapons have," observed Chakotay. "I know. We just have to

hold out a few minutes more. Mr. Paris, I want you to take

us directly underneath the Kazon ship. It's going to be a

little tougher for it to fire at us in that position. Just

snuggle up to its belly like a baby kitten trying to

nurse."

Tom Paris smiled at the image and entered the commands.

Janeway saw the underbelly of the Kazon ship looming ahead

of them, trying to buck and roll away from them, but Tom's

skillful piloting kept Voyager all but glued to them.

"Mr. Rollins, when I give the order, drop shields and

simultaneously initiate transport of the Trabe life sign

near the starboard ventral airlocks."

"I'm locked on, Captain," replied Rollins smoothly. "Do

it," snapped Janeway, and at the same moment the shields

dropped, a huge blast from the Kazon hit Voyager's dorsal

plane. The hull buckled, causing instant depressurization

until the automatic forcefield activated, but in that

moment havoc was wreaked. Conduits exploded and consoles

threw sparks. Emergency circuits frantically rerouted power

to critical systems-but the transport had already been

initiated.

Trakis had been pacing nervously in the laboratory, jarred

by the weapons blasts from the Federation ship, and

wondering if the female captain would be able to bring him

aboard. How that would be possible in the midst of a

pitched battle he had no idea, and he had begun to resign

himself to staying with the Kazon. As he was trying to

figure out how to survive the day, Nimmet entered, a smug

smile playing on his face.

Trakis turned to face him, an uneasy feeling in the pit of

his stomach. "Did you think you could outwit us, Trabe?"

rasped Nimmet, eyes slitted in that ridiculous guise. "Did

you think we were so foolish we wouldn't pick up your

transmission to the Federations?"

"What are you talking about, Nimmet? Have you misread the

sensing indicators again?"

"Don't bother with this pretense. I know you contacted

their ship." Nimmet paused, as though for dramatic effect,

and then spoke in a hoarse, affected whisper. "And I have

been granted the privilege of ending your pitiful life."

A huge impact blasted the ship and Nimmet momentarily lost

his balance. Trakis took advantage of the mishap to put the

examination table, still holding the carcass of the

dissected creature, between him and Nimmet. But Nimmet was

soon on his feet and brandishing an ugly-looking knife as

he advanced on Trakis.

"I haven't yet made my report to Maje Dut about the

necropsy I performed,"

Trakis began urgently. "He'll be most unhappy if you remove

the opportunity for him to gain insight into the creature."

"It was Maje Dut who sent me here," replied Nimmet

easily. "He no longer has faith in your abilities. You've

proven traitorous, so who is to say your information would

have any merit?"

Nimmet shrugged and moved closer, wielding the vicious

knife with intimidating familiarity.

"Nimmet, my friend, listen to me-was "I am not your friend,

Trabe. You have treated me like a servant since you came on

board. Do you think I don't recognize your condescension?

It will be a pleasure to see your life's blood draining

away."

Nimmet leapt for himand in one sweeping motion

Trakis grabbed the lifeless shell of the dead creature and

presented its green underbelly toward Nimmet's slashing

blow. The knife laced through the belly and, as Trakis had

hoped, directly into the parasectoid's poison sac, Nimmet

jerked the knife out and then began to scream, clawing at