Atonement (10 page)

Seven immediately regretted her tone. She had been Naomi's mentor and friend for years, ever since as a very young child Naomi had insisted on following Seven through
Voyager
's halls pretending to be a Borg. The affection she felt for the girl ran as deep as any Seven had ever known. She had not intended to embarrass Naomi.

Naomi's father did not hesitate to deflect Seven's question. “I decided that Naomi and I were overdue for a little quality time,” he said simply. Seven did not doubt this was true, but also understood that more was going on here than she understood. All of the letters she had received from Naomi after entering the Academy spoke of her excitement and the challenges she was facing. Seven had never doubted her ability to meet them. Naomi was bright, disciplined, and a very hard worker.

There was no place for Seven to move that would afford them any privacy, so she simply lowered her voice and looked directly into Naomi's eyes.

“Are you well?” Seven asked.

Naomi nodded. “I'm better now. Icheb and I have been so worried about you.”

“Why?”

“We thought you were sick.”

Comprehension struck her. Admiral Janeway had indicated
that Icheb would be assigned to Starfleet Medical for his internship. Given how close the two former children of
Voyager
were, it only stood to reason that her inability to make contact since her return to Earth would have caused them alarm.

“I am so sorry,” Seven said, pulling Naomi close again and allowing her to settle in her arms. Finally she felt some of the girl's tension begin to release. This time, when she pulled away, she offered Naomi a warm smile. “I have been unable to make contact. Otherwise, I would have been in touch much sooner.”

“It's okay,” Naomi assured her.

“Are you certain your coursework will not suffer for the next few weeks? We do not know when you will be able to return to Earth.”

“I have a few assignments to work on while I'm here,” Naomi said. “And I don't know . . .”

“Don't know what?”

Noami inhaled deeply. “I may not want to go back,” she finally admitted.

Seven gently readjusted the long strawberry-blond braid that had fallen over Naomi's shoulder, tucking it back. “It sounds like you and your father have much to discuss,” she said, smiling again.

“I wouldn't mind talking to you about it, too,” Naomi suggested.

“As soon as this mission is complete, we will,” Seven assured her.

This clearly cheered Naomi, who nodded and moved back to the navigator's seat next to Gres.

“We need to get to work on those sensor modifications,” Paris suggested.

“Understood,” Seven agreed, and quickly located the operational control panel. “Have you finalized our transporter protocols?”

Paris nodded sharply. “Icheb will need a few hours. We'll set our course out of the Sol system in the meantime. Take it nice and slow.”

“Icheb?”
Seven asked, her displeasure evident.

“We don't have that many friends here as talented as he is,” Paris noted.

“He is still a cadet,” Seven insisted.

“I pulled some strings to get him assigned to orbital control,” Paris admitted. “He just has to find us a window. He can do this.”

“If he should be discovered—” Seven began.

“Would you trust anyone else?” Paris asked.

Seven considered the question. Sadly, the answer she was forced to give was, “No.”

ALDEBARAN III

The third planet in the Alpha Tauri system had once been home to a small Federation colony. It had come of age in the twenty-third century when Starfleet had decided to build a major shipyard there. A hundred years later, the planet's orbital facilities rivaled those found on Earth, and Aldebaran III was home to a population of billions.

The major cities were teeming with native and alien life. New Kerinna was one of dozens where a tourist could find luxurious lodgings, eat exotic food, and indulge in any form of business or pleasure they might desire.

New Kerinna had also been the focal point for an outbreak linked to the catomic plague a year earlier and was home to one of the major quarantine facilities affiliated with the Benevolent Daughters Hospital.

Aldebaran III had seen its share of devastation during the Borg Invasion. Most of the casualties had come from the Starfleet vessels that blockaded the planet to protect the billions living on the surface. The few areas of New Kerinna that had suffered aerial attacks had been cleared and reconstructed. The planet was a vital center of commerce, and its inhabitants had spared no effort to return the city to its former glory.

Anyone arriving at the Bemdeer Transport Station in the center of New Kerinna's historical district would never have known
that the Borg had entered the Alpha Tauri system intent on its destruction a year and a half earlier. It was business as usual for the eight massive museums collected within a twenty-block area, along with the restaurants, hotels, and markets that served the center of tourism.

Bemdeer was unusually crowded when Wildman and Doctor Sharak transported down after securing the
Goldenbird
at an orbital dock. They had been warned when they approached that a six-kilometer area surrounding the Old Aberdeen District had been sealed off three days earlier and remained inaccessible even to residents until further notice.

Bemdeer was the station nearest Old Aberdeen, where the Benevolent Daughters Hospital was located. Even in the midafternoon, it was packed with weary travelers, many of whom carried large bags and cases, probably holding whatever personal possessions they had collected before their hasty evacuations. From here, they were being routed to the suburbs surrounding New Kerinna, and several public notice terminals listed dozens of additional temporary residence sites that had been swiftly established to serve the displaced.

While Sharak searched the public feeds for any information on the cause of the evacuation, Wildman approached the few uniformed Starfleet officers she could find. To a man, they told her exactly the same thing.
“No one without clearance from the Federation Institute of Health is currently allowed in the restricted area of the city. Anyone attempting to enter the restricted area will be removed, by force if necessary. There is no word yet on when the travel and occupancy restrictions will be lifted. At this time, Starfleet Medical and the Institute of Health are evaluating an outbreak of Jendarian flu. We appreciate the public's cooperation in halting the infection's spread.”

It was not difficult for Wildman to read between the lines of this rehearsed speech. The good news was that the public seemed to accept the precautions and concurrent inconvenience and moved steadily through the transport station without resistance.

Wildman finally found Sharak speaking to a young man in civilian attire who seemed more frustrated than most.

“They say they've
sent her my messages, but I don't know,” Wildman overheard as she approached.

Doctor Sharak had to be as alarmed as Wildman was by the situation, but was employing his most compassionate bedside manner with the young man. He interrupted gently to introduce Wildman when she arrived at his side.

“Lieutenant Wildman, this is Mister Herens. He is a student at Aberdeen University and was evacuated from his dorm three days ago. He is most concerned about his twin sister, who had reported to the campus infirmary that day. Apparently she was suffering from a mild cold.”

“Everyone is saying it's the flu,” Herens interjected. “But I've never seen an outbreak of the flu cause anything like this.”

Wildman attempted to smile reassuringly. “The Jendarian flu is a unique strain,” she advised Herens. “It is extremely contagious. Your local public health directors are simply trying to contain it.”

“Is it fatal?” Herens asked.

“Not when treated immediately,” Wildman assured him. “I'm sure your sister will be fine.”

“In the meantime, you should avail yourself of one of the temporary relocation facilities,” Sharak suggested. “If your sister has not arrived for transport in the last three days, it is unlikely she will do so.”

“Those relocation facilities probably have dedicated comm lines with all of the local medical centers,” Wildman added. “They'll have more information for you than you'll find here.”

Herens considered both of them dubiously. “You're both Starfleet. They probably told you to say that.”

“We are Starfleet officers,” Wildman said. “But we came here on personal business and are not working with any of the local authorities. I'm just telling you what I'd tell any friend in your situation.”

Herens nodded, chagrined. “I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about her.”

“I understand,” Sharak said, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. “Try not to worry.”

“Do
they just take anyone at these relocation facilities?” Herens asked.

“Anyone who can prove they reside in the evacuated area. You have your student ID?”

Herens nodded.

Wildman pointed out a nearby lieutenant standing at one of the public information terminals. “He'll help you,” Wildman suggested.

Once Mister Herens was out of earshot, Wildman pulled Sharak toward the nearest line of those awaiting transport off the planet's surface. Their eyes held the same fear, but they remained silent until they had returned to the
Goldenbird.

“I've never heard of the Jendarian flu,” Sharak admitted.

“It's a lethal strain that was eradicated a hundred years ago,” Wildman reported. “It's a good cover story, but you and I both know it's not the truth.”

“No,” Sharak agreed.

The
truth
was that Ria had a counterpart on Aldebaran who had likely installed within the Benevolent Daughters Hospital a device similar to the one Wildman and Sharak had found on Coridan. Sharak had successfully neutralized it before it could release the catomic plague. The one meant to target the citizens of New Kerinna had likely been detonated without discovery. There was no telling how many people might have suddenly been infected by the plague, but based on the city's population and the size of the restricted area, casualties were easily going to be numbered in the thousands, if not tens of thousands.

“We're not going to be able to speak with anyone at that hospital, let alone get access to their patient records,” Wildman noted.

“No.”

“We need a new plan.”

“Yes.”

“Temba. His arms wide,”
Wildman said.

Shaka. When the walls fell,
Sharak thought.

MANTICLE

I
nspector Kashyk,”
Minister Odala snapped as he aimed his sidearm at Rigger Meeml.

“No one is watching,” Kashyk retorted. “This charade is over.”

Meeml rose to his feet and began to shout something, but the sound was quickly lost in the screech from Kashyk's weapon. Janeway's gorge rose as Meeml disintegrated from the center of his body outward, flailing helplessly for the few seconds it took for him to be completely vaporized.

“Franribkesh!”
Odala shouted.

Janeway did not understand the word, but its effect on Kashyk was instantaneous. His entire body tensed, his shoulders hunching forward as his weapon fell to the floor. He grabbed the sides of his head with both hands. His face was clenched in a spasm of agony.

“Was that . . .?” Veelo asked of Odala.

“Silence,” Odala ordered.

Kashyk's breath came in short gasps as he fell to his knees. Lifting his head so that his eyes could meet Odala's, he begged, “Lsia . . . please . . .”

Pitiless black stones glared back at him.

Kashyk's chest began to heave. Ragged breaths tried to force their way out of his mouth.

“What have you done?” Janeway demanded.

“Would you have preferred I allowed him to kill you?” Odala asked.

Janeway stepped toward Kashyk and bent low, searching his face. Suddenly his eyes opened, darting about the room, wide with terror. When they found Janeway's, they settled.

“K . . . Kath . . .” He struggled for every sound.

“Kashyk?”
Janeway asked.

“Atwaon,”
Odala said.

Kashyk's eyes closed again, and the tension gripping his body began to dissipate. Veelo and Dhina stepped down from the platform and rushed to his side, helping him to his feet.

He shuddered again. The eyes that found Janeway and moved swiftly back to Odala were filled with rage.

“You dare?” he demanded.

“I gave you that form, Emem,” Odala replied coldly. “Never forget that I can take it from you whenever I wish.”

“She cannot be allowed to live,” he insisted.

Janeway found her voice again and directed it toward Odala. “To whom am I speaking?” she asked.

When Odala did not immediately respond, Janeway said, “Tell me who you are and what you want. Let's start there.”

“Kill her,” Emem shouted.

Instead, the form of the Voth minister began to shimmer and dissipate. It was replaced by the figure of an extremely tall woman with long black hair wearing a form-fitting ensemble composed of narrow layered strips of reddish-brown leather. Her eyes were dark green. “I am Lsia of the Seriareen,” the woman said in a much warmer and richer voice than the Voth minister's.

The floor beneath them shuddered.

Lsia pressed a button on the console before her and with Odala's voice said, “This is Minister Odala. Report.”

No response came, and the ship shook again as the unmistakable pounding of weapons impacting shields sounded around them.

“It sounds like your ship is now under attack,” Janeway said.

“The Confederacy?” Lsia asked.

Janeway shrugged. “I told you that for us to proceed, we had to be honest with one another. I know you tried to disrupt the transmission, but if my people did their job properly, and they usually do, both the Confederacy and the rest of your
Kinara
heard every word I said and just watched you execute Rigger Meeml.”