Quadrant and one in the Gamma Quadrant.”
“Or maybe it’s something much simpler and closer to home,” Janeway mused, turning the idea over in her head and on her tongue at the same time. Then her voice shifted to a stronger one, that of command.
“Computer, replay that last transmission without audio. Slow down picture and magnify the faces.”
They came on the screen again, each of them perfect, frozen.
“Computer, play this with an image of the earlier transmission.”
There was the one with the pale blue hair again, almost overlaid over the red-skinned individual in the last broadcast.
“They could be twins,” Paris said. “They’re almost identical.”
“Not almost, Mr. Paris,” the captain corrected him gently. “The faces are the same. Look. Computer, go to black-and-white screen.”
And there it was. Without the color, all the angels had one single face.
“There’s no indication of any lifeforms,” Paris said. “We’re getting a clear reading now, and there isn’t anyone to be rescued.” He turned around and looked at the captain. “It’s a trap.”
Kathryn Janeway smiled. “That much is obvious,” she said quietly.
“The real question is why whatever set this up is trying to lure people in.”
“This must be whatever killed the Rhiellians,” Neelix said softly. “He said something about there being people there, beautiful people who were calling to them. Only what a Rhiellian would like is not anything you or I might like, Captain.
Rhiellians are six-legged and have an exoskeleton. I wouldn’t think they’d be impressed with these images.”
“So whatever is there tailors the display to the race it finds,” the captain said. “Which means they aren’t even looking for a particular kind of sentient being, a single species or even a class. They’re looking for whoever’s out here.”
“Well, this isn’t exactly the shopping district of Rigel,” Tom Paris said. “You’d have to take what you could get out in the middle of nowhere.”
The captain stood and smiled without humor. “It might not always have been the middle of nowhere,” she said grimly. “But that doesn’t matter now. We just have to get out of here.”
She touched her commbadge quickly. “Mr. Kim, meet us in shuttlecraft bay two.” Then she turned her attention back to the staff on the bridge. “Mr. Paris, you’re with me. We’re going to get out of here now.”
***
In the shuttlecraft, Tom Paris took the pilot’s seat. Though both the captain and Harry were more than qualified to fly the shuttlecraft, Paris was the best pilot on the ship. The captain expected him to be able to do things that no one else could pull off.
Like fly through this tachyon field that would distort instrument readings and get them to the empty shell that was broadcasting the images. Not an easy task, but one he relished. When he was flying, especially doing something that taxed his skill and his nerve, he was most truly alive. And like many true pilots, he enjoyed flying shuttlecraft as much as he liked being at the controls of Voyager herself.
“Voyager, do we have any further readings on this broadcast, or on the shell?” Janeway asked as the shuttle peeled away from Voyager and darted forward on its own course into the heart of the storm.
“No, Captain, only that the readings we are getting are contradictory and we cannot get a lock on anything substantial,” Tuvok said.
Janeway knew that he didn’t approve. He was far too disciplined to tell her so, but she knew what he thought. A captain’s place is on the bridge. Always go in fully prepared.
But she was fully prepared, or as prepared as she could be. And as for being on the bridge, well, that was a captain’s place. It was also the captain’s place to lead, to go where others might fear, to make first contact, to make decisions.
She would not ask anything of her crew that she would not do first herself. That was something Kathryn Janeway had
“Or maybe it’s something much simpler and closer to home,” Janeway mused, turning the idea over in her head and on her tongue at the same time. Then her voice shifted to a stronger one, that of command.
“Computer, replay that last transmission without audio. Slow down picture and magnify the faces.”
They came on the screen again, each of them perfect, frozen.
“Computer, play this with an image of the earlier transmission.”
There was the one with the pale blue hair again, almost overlaid over the red-skinned individual in the last broadcast.
“They could be twins,” Paris said. “They’re almost identical.”
“Not almost, Mr. Paris,” the captain corrected him gently. “The faces are the same. Look. Computer, go to black-and-white screen.”
And there it was. Without the color, all the angels had one single face.
“There’s no indication of any lifeforms,” Paris said. “We’re getting a clear reading now, and there isn’t anyone to be rescued.” He turned around and looked at the captain. “It’s a trap.”
Kathryn Janeway smiled. “That much is obvious,” she said quietly.
“The real question is why whatever set this up is trying to lure people in.”
“This must be whatever killed the Rhiellians,” Neelix said softly. “He said something about there being people there, beautiful people who were calling to them. Only what a Rhiellian would like is not anything you or I might like, Captain.
Rhiellians are six-legged and have an exoskeleton. I wouldn’t think they’d be impressed with these images.”
“So whatever is there tailors the display to the race it finds,” the captain said. “Which means they aren’t even looking for a particular kind of sentient being, a single species or even a class. They’re looking for whoever’s out here.”
“Well, this isn’t exactly the shopping district of Rigel,” Tom Paris said. “You’d have to take what you could get out in the middle of nowhere.”
The captain stood and smiled without humor. “It might not always have been the middle of nowhere,” she said grimly. “But that doesn’t matter now. We just have to get out of here.”
She touched her commbadge quickly. “Mr. Kim, meet us in shuttlecraft bay two.” Then she turned her attention back to the staff on the bridge. “Mr. Paris, you’re with me. We’re going to get out of here now.”
***
In the shuttlecraft, Tom Paris took the pilot’s seat. Though both the captain and Harry were more than qualified to fly the shuttlecraft, Paris was the best pilot on the ship. The captain expected him to be able to do things that no one else could pull off.
Like fly through this tachyon field that would distort instrument readings and get them to the empty shell that was broadcasting the images. Not an easy task, but one he relished. When he was flying, especially doing something that taxed his skill and his nerve, he was most truly alive. And like many true pilots, he enjoyed flying shuttlecraft as much as he liked being at the controls of Voyager herself.
“Voyager, do we have any further readings on this broadcast, or on the shell?” Janeway asked as the shuttle peeled away from Voyager and darted forward on its own course into the heart of the storm.
“No, Captain, only that the readings we are getting are contradictory and we cannot get a lock on anything substantial,” Tuvok said.
Janeway knew that he didn’t approve. He was far too disciplined to tell her so, but she knew what he thought. A captain’s place is on the bridge. Always go in fully prepared.
But she was fully prepared, or as prepared as she could be. And as for being on the bridge, well, that was a captain’s place. It was also the captain’s place to lead, to go where others might fear, to make first contact, to make decisions.
She would not ask anything of her crew that she would not do first herself. That was something Kathryn Janeway had
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