Free Violations by Susan Wright Page A

look feverish.”
    Chakotay rubbed a finger against his temple, below the tribal tattoo.
    “It’s the climate controls. Logs show that internal temperature has been rising ever since the processor was removed.
    Manual realignments don’t seem to have any effect.”
    “Now that you mention it, it does feel warm in here.” The captain glanced at the other members of the bridge crew. Most of them had their jackets off or their sleeves rolled up.
    “Kim says some areas of the ship have been more affected than others,” Chakotay added. “Engineering, the bridge, and the computer monitor room are considerably warmer than anywhere else.”
    “Have Torres and Kim submitted a report yet?”
    “They’re still in the monitor room, and the only report I’ve gotten is that it’s hotter than Vulcan down there, and that conditions are somehow worsening. Environmental controls in particular are erratic, with almost all of the circulatory systems malfunctioning.” He gestured to the view of the Hub, arching away underneath them. “In your absence, I’ve been negotiating with the Cartel for ship-to-station umbilicals. I offered them some of our more exotic plant DNA.”
    “Seeds?” Janeway asked. “You’re trading seeds for life support?”
    “It seemed appropriate.” Chakotay grinned.
    The tricorder beeped, prior to an incoming message. “Your credit-offer has been accepted,” a detached voice confirmed.
    “Please transfer the information to the utilities representative in order to receive three cycles of Series I shipwide life support, including atmospheric and water processing, system power, and thermal and gravitational control.”
    Janeway nodded to Chakotay, who immediately replied, “Agreed.
    I’ll meet your representative on the service deck.” He closed the channel and tossed the tricorder aside, glad to be done with it.
    “They’ve agreed to supply direct communication units to the Hub, as well.”
    Janeway lifted one corner of her mouth. “Very good, Commander.
    Perhaps you ought to conduct any further trade agreements.”
    “I’ve had practice. Remember the Cordone’ni?”
    “True.” Her expression said much more as she remembered that experience. “You may proceed, Commander. Tuvok, you better assist Chakotay. Try to keep them from doing any more scans.”
    “Aye, Captain,” Tuvok replied, as seriously as if accepting a life-or-death mission. Chakotay wondered what had been going on while he was held captive in sickbay.
    “Lieutenant Paris,” Janeway added, taking one of the renewed tricorders, “you have the bridge. I’ll be in the computer monitoring room if you need me.”
    The last thing Chakotay saw as he left the bridge was Paris crossing his arms as he leaned back in the pilot’s chair. He didn’t understand why Paris looked so irritated. After his checkered past, he should be grateful that Janeway trusted him enough to leave him in command.
    “We’ve got a real problem,” Kim announced.
    Janeway had been hoping to hear good news, but she didn’t let Kim know that. “Can’t you stabilize the computer systems?”
    “The ODN is functioning fine.” Kim was looking up from the temporary scaffolding erected in the central shaft of the core.
    A white cloth was knotted around his forehead, and blue smears of nutrient gel darkened his gray shirt.
    “We think the problem is in the neural networks,” Torres agreed, glaring at the severed bioshunt she had repaired. The collar of her gray shirt had been ripped open, and her hair was tied back to get it off her neck. Janeway had a flash of an old clip she’d once seen of marines going through an obstacle course—all the Klingon needed was a projectile weapon to fit right in.
    Janeway ran her hand along the bank of synthetic brain neurons suspended in the blue nutrient gel. It used to be next to the processor, when they had a processor. “Were the tissue masses damaged?”
    “Not directly, as far as I can tell,” Kim said. “But