Equinox Page 4

  "Max, did they tell you how many?" he asked.

  On the next bed, Burke closed his eyes a moment. "They only told me the captain wants to brief us when we're back to shape. I'd guess there's only a couple of handfuls of us left, Rudy. We know as well as they do what the last attack did."

  A handful or two, out of a crew of eighty-seven. Four score and seven children ago ...

  He pressed his head back on the rest. "It's awful to survive," he murmured.

  "Rudy," Burke groaned, "you kept us going. There wouldn't be even a handful of us left if you'd died first. Nobody would know what happened to the Equinox." He sighed and rubbed his thigh, apparently aching. "I'm glad we didn't end up a 'missing in action' note on some Starfleet blotter. The others deserve more than that."

  The others. The dead, he meant.

  Years beyond tears, Ransom let his hands tremble a moment before clenching them. He watched blankly as

  The Doctor puttered around him and Burke. While this went on he tilted his head and looked past the hologram to the other beds, where he thought he could make out Noah Lessing, Maria Gilmore, and Mike Franco on other beds in the ward, unconscious or sedated. There were two more beds in his line of sight, both with bodies on them, but these were covered with thermal blankets all the way up over the faces. Hadn't made it through treatment.

  He let his eyes drift shut again and tried to relax the twitching muscles in his neck. The shock of having lived when he'd given himself up for finished-he couldn't absorb it. This could all be the last-second dream before blackout.

  Perhaps thinking this was prying, The Doctor administered an inoculation to Burke and said, "Excuse me, gentlemen," and disappeared into a lab, leaving them alone.

  "Rudy," Burke began, lowering his voice, "do they know about..."

  "I don't think so." Ransom lowered his voice to nearly inaudible. "The critical areas are fully contaminated. Nobody'll be able to get in there for days. That'll give us time. I have to probe out their captain's attitude."

  "Look at this ship! It's so clean ... and this bed! It's a bed!" Burke ran his hands down the blanket that covered his legs. His dark eyes were dull, shadowed, but hopeful. "No rips, no burns, the lights are on, smells good, heat, fresh air... I've never been on an Intrepid-class ship before. Have you?"

  "Oh, yes." Ransom smiled. "Once, two weeks as a

  science officer pro tern, and once just for a visit. At Starbase Eighty. We were receiving dignitaries from somewhere."

  Burke pursed his lips, filled his lungs slowly, then indulged in a long audible sigh while gazing at the bright intact ceiling. "You know, when they found us and I started to come around," he mused, "I thought God was a Vulcan."

  For the first time in months, Ransom laughed-right out loud. What a feeling! He'd completely forgotten. The muscles were so unused that laughing actually hurt. A good hurt, though, as hurts went.

  A chance to live! Unbelievable! To have help... More Starfleet people-a powerful ship-assistance that meant it! Every time he closed his eyes he expected to open them to a smashed and smoldering bridge and suffocate as he watched his crew's bodies mummify in front of him, just before he started to dry up himself. But every time he opened them, this clean sickbay was still here. Max was lying beside him in the other bed. Maria, Noah, Mike still over there, resting, alive.

  He couldn't believe Max made it. After the field promotion to first officer, Burke had always put himself in front of all the others when danger came. He hadn't balked once, never. He'd made himself a target to save others more times than Ransom had remembered.

  Would Captain Janeway understand what they'd had to do to get this far?

  As he made peace with the idea that he really was here, alive, with a handful of his brave and long-suffering crew, Captain Ransom began slowly to for-

  mulate his plans. They had to go through the motions, almost like being on shore leave with top secret information. There would be questions from Voyager's captain and crew. He had to tell his own people what to say and not say, for now.

  He had to think, to be ready. Just in case. Voyager was a paradise for them right now. He would have to prepare himself and the crew in case they had to return to hell.

  CHAPTER

  4

  FOUR DAYS IN PARADISE. HOT MEALS, SHOWERS, CLEAN

  clothes, mending wounds. New people to talk to. Sympathetic eyes, encouraging smiles, hungry hearts. It really was paradise.

  Rudy Ransom stood shoulder to shoulder with Voyager's Captain Janeway and felt a camaraderie that had been lost for him. For five years he had been alone in an unlikely and unwanted command, something he hadn't trained for nor ever betted upon. It felt good to have another captain around, someone who knew what the burden was like, someone to make a few decisions for the next few days. For a few precious hours he hadn't been the one who had to do the hard thinking. His mind had actually shut down for a while, actually rested. Voyager was shore leave for himself and his cleaned-up crewmates over there.

  They looked wonderful. He hadn't seen them clean and rested, in new uniforms ... he couldn't remember the last time. The only thing that hadn't been erased by their days on the starship was the leftover gauntness of almost constant hunger. They were a thin crowd, the cheekbone brigade. He relished the looks of them, bunched up over there, all tidy, with their complexions coming back. Several of them were still in sickbay, still others were participating in this little ceremony by remote, from other places on the starship, in solemn privacy or with friends. He hadn't insisted they all attend. He didn't want to give them the order to be he re for another good-bye.

  On the other side of the mess hall lounge, Captain Janeway's primary crew stood in silent tribute. Each seemed a little proud, but a little troubled, too, as if they understood that this could easily be about them.

  Ransom cleared his throat.

  "We're here," he began, "to commemorate our honored dead. Lieutenant William Yates ... Lieutenant John Bowler... Ensign Dorothy Chang ... Ensign Edward Regis ... and Crewman David Amantes served with distinction. Their bravery and sacrifice will not be forgotten. And they will be missed."

  There it was-finally. The logging of commendation for all those killed in the line of duty on Equinox. Soon he and Captain Janeway would formally commit the posthumous medals and promotions for all those lost over the ship's long-term struggle. That would help.

  The somber crews listened and controlled their nervous unease, which Ransom sensed rifling the air as he continued.

  "Despite our recent difficulties, there is now cause for optimism. Thanks to Captain Janeway, and Voyager." He turned to Janeway herself and added, "On behalf of my crew ... thank you."

  Janeway smiled sadly and stepped forward. "We'll have time to give the newest members of our family a proper welcome in the days ahead, but right now we've got our hands full. The Equinox is secure, but its primary systems are still badly damaged. B'Elanna, Harry, make it your priority. Captain Ransom has provided us with data regarding the alien attacks. Tuvok, Seven, you'll be working with First Officer Burke."

  She paused, making sure they all knew which one was Burke. Then the pressing moment demanded just a little of the sentiment she had been obviously avoiding to spare them all an inevitable self-consciousness.

  'To kindred spirits," she added somberly. "May our journey home together be swift. Dismissed."

  Ransom met her gaze with gratitude for keeping it short, not dragging them through a diatribe about honor and duty and grandeur and goals. Those had been forgotten long ago aboard Equinox. Something much more fundamental had moved into the vacant house and haunted it since then.

  Kindred spirits. Fellows in arms.

  It was nice.

  He looked across the mess hall at Max Burke, looking well fed and shaven, in fact looking younger than

  he ever had-or maybe they all just seemed young to Ransom now. Offering Burke a subdued smile and a- he hoped-subtle wink of warning, Ransom was careful to leave the crews
alone without their captains. Janeway had already left. He did the same.

  Max Burke watched his captain leave and wondered why Ransom had chosen to do that. He would rather have stayed together, take this big step with a bunch of little ones first rather than plunge headlong into ... no way to finish that thought. No idea what was coming.

  The moment was so pleasant that he hardly wanted to disturb it by moving, by talking. These angels around him would become human to him soon enough, and for a while he was enjoying thinking of the Voyager crew as supernatural wonders who had swooped in out of the silvery clouds to snatch him from the monster's grip.

  Yes, of course, they were just doing the job they had trained for, but here, in the Delta Quadrant, for one Starfleet ship to find another Starfleet ship was way beyond routine mission. Both ships so deeply needed each other...

  He clasped his hands and tried to appear cool, collected. He wanted to be some kind of legend to them, as much as they seemed legendary to him right now. Keep aloof, act calm, as if you damned near died every day.

  Of course, on Equinox, they had damned near died every day. This still seemed like a dream.

  "We should begin by familiarizing you with Voyager's defenses."

  "Hm?" Burke blinked. The Vulcan was standing next to him. Tumok. Trupok. Why hadn't he paid attention?

  The Vulcan and Seven of Eleven were standing next to him. Now that wasn't her name, either, was it?

  Start paying attention, Burke, or these people will get their guard up about you. So long since I've met anybody new-

  He offered them what he hoped was a self-conscious shrug.

  "Oh-can you give me a minute?" Burke responded. "There's someone I want to say hello to."

  What a moment. Not only did he find himself surrounded by fellow Starfleeters, but one particular fellow ... lady.

  "We'll be in the astrometrics lab," Seven of Twelve said. "Deck eight, section twenty-nine."

  "See y'there," Burke told them, but he was no longer interested in them. He hoped they understood. No, he really didn't care.

  Summoning his best aplomb to cover up for nervousness and the sheer shock of being in this situation at all, he straightened his uniform, leaned forward, and managed to start walking with some kind of grace. There she was.

  "BLT?" he asked. At least his voice didn't crack.

  B'Elanna Torres had been eying him all this time, though the two of them had been trying to pretend, for the other's sake, that they had no more reason to call upon one another than upon anyone else. Burke, for himself, didn't want anyone to think he

  had some advantage here or had an old friendship to rekindle when everyone else here was starting new. What could he do? He did have more reason than they did.

  "Max," B'Elanna responded, and she smiled.

  Not an easy smile. She was glad to see him, but holding back. Why would she? She wasn't the type to hold back. Never had before.

  Could it have something to do with these two other guys she was standing with?

  "I tried to say hello in sickbay," she told him, "but you were sedated."

  "I remember," he said. "I thought I was dreaming."

  Awkward silence interrupted, finally broken when they managed a less-than-stirring embrace. Burke noticed the other two guys exchanging a glance that may or may not have been charitable.

  "So where's my sweater?" Burke asked as he and B'Elanna looked at each other again. "The blue one? Class insignia on the back?"

  "Oh..." She glanced at the other men. "Well, I'm sure it'll turn up. We went to the Academy together," she told the others in a tone that suggested she felt obligated to explain.

  Burke stuck a hand toward the nearest guy. "Maxwell Burke."

  'Tom Paris," the fellow said.

  Then the other one seemed more willing to shake hands. "Harry Kim. Welcome aboard."

  "First officer," B'Elanna commented, surveying him as if she'd never seen a uniform before. "Impressive.

  The last time we talked, you were about to drop out of Starfleet."

  What now? Tell her I wish I had?

  "I heard you beat me to it," he said instead. "The Maquis?"

  A flush of-was it embarrassment?-colored her cheeks. "For a while. Until I ran into these two."

  Tom Paris got a funny expression. "It's been hell ever since."

  They all smiled, but they didn't all mean it. Oh... now Burke started to get what was going on. This wasn't friendly banter. It was competition.

  He'd have to talk to her later. Alone.

  "Well, I told your resident Vulcan I'd be right there. Are you free later? I'd love to catch up."

  How casual and flat the whole conversation seemed! Here he was, resurrected from certain and brutal death, and he was trying to act like a guy in a club with a bad pickup line.

  "Sure!" B'Elanna said, not in the tone he'd hoped. "Why don't we all have dinner together?"

  Burke might've been half dead and living in a dream world, but he wasn't a stupid corpse. Not yet, at least. She was avoiding what he was getting at. That meant the old communication was in there somewhere, and she didn't want it to come out in front of one or the other of these guys. Or both.

  Nah ... couldn't be both.

  Better let her off the hook for now. There'd be time. For once, there really would be.

  "Sounds great," he concluded. To Parry and Harris he said, "Thanks for having me."

  "Our pleasure," the Asian guy said. Parry. Harris. Harry.

  As Max Burke moved off in the direction Seven and Tuvok had gone, B'Elanna Torres folded her arms and tried to act casual under the searching glare from Tom Paris and the careful disinterest of Harry Kim.

  "BLT?" Tom asked.

  Hate this part. "Bacon, lettuce, and tomato," she explained, irritated. "It was a nickname. My initials."

  "How romantic."

  B'Elanna wanted to laugh, but this really wasn't funny, and it could be complicated. She wasn't hiding anything from Paris. He was getting it all. "We broke up over ten years ago. No need to go to Red Alert."

  "How about Yellow?" he requested.

  She shook her head. "You're cute when you're jealous."

  "Who's jealous!"

  Making a little sound in her throat, she turned to Harry and said, "I'll see you aboard the Equinox."

  She strode off, and behind her heard Harry give Tom a clap on the back and say, "Well, 'Turkey Platter'? What do you say we get to work?"

  Oh, this was going to be some experience.

  "Commander!"

  Chakotay turned at the call and found Ensign Gilmore trying to catch up to him without breaking into a jog. He'd noticed that about all the Equinox people-

  they were all nervous, all holding back, trying to appear aloof and at ease while none of them really were. He couldn't blame them. They were trying to fit in, and it wasn't unusual for people to try too hard. This kind of thing would take time.

  And tolerance from such as him, of course. Phasers on tolerate, full power.

  "I've been assigned to one of the repair crews on the Equinox," Gilmore said as she came to his side in the bustling corridor.

  She looked very different than the first time he'd seen her. She was one of those people who cleaned up well. Her blond hair seemed longer now that it was washed, and thicker. Her cheekbones showed more without dirt smearing her face, and her large doll-like eyes had traded in fear for worry.

  There were crew moving everywhere lately, everybody busy with work about the newly discovered Starfleet ship, and the Voyager was more crowded with the Equinox crew on board. It was great.

  "I was wondering," Gilmore went on, "if I could join a different team. On Voyager."

  "Problem?" Chakotay asked. With that one word he was insisting she behave like a Starfleet crew member, giving him an analysis of her reasons for such a request-even though he knew.

  She smiled nervously. "Oh ... just a little posttrau-matic stress ..."

  At least she admitted it.

>   "Bad memories," Chakotay understood.

  "A few."

  Now she was really pretending. Just a few?

  "Actually," he offered, "I could use someone with your engineering abilities."

  Genuinely relieved, Gilmore gave him an unencumbered smile. "Thanks."

  They walked together in silence for a few paces, Chakotay hoping Gilmore would relax a little more, but maybe he was right the first time and that would be a longer process. They were all skittish. This was a big change.

  "Clean ship," Gilmore seemed obliged to say.

  "We do our best." He didn't pause to explain that keeping the ship clean was one of the ways they kept the crew busy during the long, long hours that composed the boring part of spacefaring, especially when the mission was just to go really far away. He didn't want her to feel as if her own existence until now had been too tragic to be worth anything-after all, she'd been somewhat busier on her own ship than just sweeping and polishing.

  "I'm so used to dodging falling bulkheads," she said, "hopping over missing deck plates ..."

  Chakotay nodded, hoping to distract her from dwelling on the cloying past. "In a few weeks, you won't even recognize the Equinox. You'll be happy to go back."

  She pressed her lips in a doubtful smile, but she was troubled by that. "Unless I decide to stay on Voyager."

  Was she joking? No, he didn't read that at all. The veil of humor was too thin.

  "You said you could use someone with my engineer-

  ing abilities," she tossed off. Perhaps she realized her first comment was inappropriate.

  "I don't think your captain would appreciate that," Chakotay said, and he turned the corner toward the turbolift. "He's got a skeleton crew as it is."

  Ouch-shouldn't have mentioned that! Not with the condition those bodies were in when they were discovered. Slip of the tongue. He hoped she didn't notice.

  They still didn't know how the "enemy" killed or even what they were. What kind of attack could cause that desiccation? Chakotay wanted to ask her, had the feeling she knew, yet had promised himself he wouldn't push these shaken-up people. They deserved a rest, not an interrogation.