Cybersong by S. N. Lewitt Page B

gone, the Vulcan was now the senior officer. “We do not yet know that the captain is in any danger.”
    “Just give me the all clear and lift the hatch,” Chakotay ordered.
    He had to protect his captain, his subordinates, maybe his friends.
    Even Tom Paris, who had been a Maquis for all of three weeks, and then only for the worst of reasons, was part of his tribe. His responsibility.
    The indicator went green. Tuvok had obeyed and now the large bay doors were open to the dark. His fingers slid over the control panels, their bright yellow, green, red, and blue displays flashing. All the skills and pleasure he had in flying returned in a rush as he took the shuttle out of the bay and into space.
    He tried to simply enjoy the Dying. He had forgotten how he had missed it. His instructors were right, the skill never really did go away.
    There was a seventh sense for a pilot, a place where the mind merged with machine. Where there was no thought, but only being.
    It was sacred space.
    Kes sat quietly, almost like a statue, as he brought the shuttle around through the gash that Tom Paris had found so easy to navigate.
    “There they are,” he said, spotting the earlier shuttle already neatly parked on the exposed deck. “They would have had to wear environmental suits out there. There isn’t any air in here.”
    “Are we going to stop next to them, or are we just going to call them?”
    Kes asked innocently.
    Chakotay turned to her with absolute shock on his face. She was right!
    Inside this hulk there was no tachyon field. It was a null zone. And so his comm badge ought to work fine.
    He flicked it on. “Away team, this is Chakotay. Where are you?”
    “We’re on the bridge trying to get a download from the alien log,” Janeway’s voice was crisp and clear. “How did you cut through the tachyon field? I thought our commbadges wouldn’t work with the interference.”
    “Just a minor repositioning,” Chakotay said, his voice perfectly calm.
    He ignored Kes’s raised eyebrow and slight smile. “Do you have any idea when you’ll be back aboard? We’re getting a little worried.”
    “We’re fine,” the captain told him. “And I expect to be out of here in less than an hour. We’ll have to do more investigation later, when we have a better idea of what we’re looking for.
    We’ll see you soon, Voyager. Janeway out.”
    “I suppose repositioning is an accurate way to describe it,” Kes said as if she had learned something new. Her voice was so warm and soft, her eyes so innocent, it was easy to think she was human. The Doctor had been very impressed with her desire to learn, and now Chakotay knew why.
    There was enough room to maneuver, to loop around through the blasted-out decks before emerging from the hole in the alien hull once again. Back into the tachyon field that somehow had never stopped its infernal buffeting and interference.
    “No reason for them to know that we were out here, in case of an emergency,” Chakotay said. “There was no emergency. But it’s better to be prepared.”
    Kes agreed, her voice firm and serious.
    Then suddenly she became still, and her body braced as if for some shock. “Something bad,” she said, breathing raggedly.
    “Something bad is happening. Going to happen. I don’t know.
    Get them out. Get them now.” Her words became higher in pitch, her entire aspect growing more agitated as she strained against the shuttle belt.
    Chakotay didn’t hesitate. He flung the shuttle into a blazing spin and whipped it out as they converged on the alien vessel again. As they approached the opening in the side, they were thrust backward by a force that nearly knocked Chakotay out of the pilot’s seat.
    Debris shot past them, piercing shards of the dead hull reeling out of control like a sandstorm around them, abrading the resistant skin of the craft.
    Chakotay could not think. His mind was focused on one point, his entire being alive with a single purpose. To stay alive. To