Cybersong by S. N. Lewitt Page B

origin.
    “Mr. Neelix, come up to the bridge,” Janeway said into her comm badge.
    “There’s something you might be able to identify.”
    “The scans aren’t reading clearly,” Paris said. “It looks like a negative, then there’s tachyon interference, and it spikes into the positive range. Always in the same place, as if whatever life is there is concentrated in one area.”
    He hesitated and looked up from his console, turned and faced the captain. “I don’t trust it, Captain,” he said. “The negatives are too clear too close to that area. The particle bombardment could be giving us false readings.”
    The captain used her commbadge again, this time to Engineering.
    “Can you filter out more of the interference?” she asked.
    “There’s still too much coming through for us to get a clear reading.”
    “We’re doing our best, Captain,” Torres replied. “The field is fluctuating pretty violently here. Once I match it, it seems to jump again.”
    “Do what you can,” the captain said, knowing full well that Torres and Kim were doing more than anyone else could imagine.
    Still, she was frustrated and intrigued at the same time. The curiosity that had made her a good science officer was full of questions and speculations about what could be going on.
    The screen sputtered again, and again cleared to the interior of a ship filled with the people who were colored like Christmas angels. In fact, this time she saw a green-haired, silver-skinned one and one with skin as red as her uniform with glossy black hair.
    Somehow Janeway had the impression she had seen something like them before somewhere, she just couldn’t place it. And they were both so beautiful and so bizarre that it seemed very odd to her that she couldn’t recall where she’d seen anything like them before.
    Unless it was in some kind of painting, perhaps.
    The indigo-skinned one came forward again. “Please hurry,” the being said, pleading. “We need your help. Please. We can direct you in.
    We can take you over if you like.”
    “Won’t the tachyon bombardment and fluctuations interfere with your transport device?” Janeway demanded.
    “We are adapted to this phenomenon,” the indigo angel said softly.
    “But of course, if you wish to use your own equipment, we are more than pleased that you do so. We want you to trust us. We need your help.”
    Something about the way the angel made the statement made Captain Janeway’s skin crawl. She didn’t know whether it was the neediness in the plea itself or the way in which it was delivered, but she was certain this was no routine rescue.
    “We will send over a shuttlecraft as soon as we are within a reasonable range,” she said. “Stand by.” And she cut the connection.
    “What’s with a shuttlecraft range, Captain?” Tom Paris asked, confused.
    Janeway just smiled. “I think we have a thing or two to learn about our would-be refugees before we go picking them up,” she said.
    “That’s a Tsranan ship, Captain,” Neelix said. No one had noticed his arrival. Now it simply was natural that he was there. “Looks like one of their freighters, though I can’t say they look like much.”
    Janeway was slightly startled by his voice. She hadn’t heard him come in, hadn’t been aware of his presence. She asked if he had seen the message and could identify the race of the people asking for aid.
    “I haven’t seen anyone like them,” Neelix said quickly. “I haven’t even heard of anyone like them. A race where no two people have the same color, that’s absurd.”
    “Or cosmetic,” Tuvok observed.
    “And why would anyone go to all the trouble of that much cosmetic variation when they’re in danger?” Janeway asked, more for herself than to elicit a reply.
    “Ritual, perhaps,” Tuvok said. “Or they mark rank and position by their coloration. Or maybe it’s a deeper part of identity.
    This is known among at least three groups we have contacted, two in the Alpha