Spirit Walk, Book One

by Christie Golden

  “We were on the same ship for seven years,” Chakotay had said angrily. “We did a pretty good job then.”

  It was at that point Janeway had revealed to him how hard she had fought to get him Voyager’s captaincy…and had revealed the compromise she’d been forced to make.

  “But it’s adding insult to injury,” said Kaz, referring to that compromise. Clearly his mind was running along the same path as Chakotay’s. “I mean, not only did they refuse to let Tom back on Voyager as your first officer, but they foisted Priggy on you.”

  Once again, Janeway’s shot went wild as she choked with laughter. “Kaz, I’m beginning to think this is deliberate,” she remonstrated. Sobering, she said, “It’s a good thing none of us is on duty right now or I’d have to reprimand you for that comment. Andrew Ellis is a sterling Starfleet officer. He’s highly decorated and long overdue for a first officer position. You’re lucky to have him, Chakotay, and I know he’s very much looking forward to serving with you.”

  “Everything you said is completely true,” Chakotay agreed. “And so is the nickname.” He stepped into position and made his shot.

  “He’s not a prig,” said Janeway, sounding unconvinced herself. “He’s just…a touch conservative.” She paused. “And by-the-book.”

  “And far too stuffy for a thirty-year-old,” said Kaz.

  Janeway glanced from one man to the other. “Somehow I think you and Chakotay will loosen him up a bit.”

  “It’s not Ellis himself I mind,” said Chakotay, amending immediately, “Okay, at least not much. I just feel like Starfleet wants him to be my nanny.”

  “Who knows,” mused Kaz. “Maybe beneath that starched uniform beats the wild heart of an untamed rebel.”

  Chakotay came dangerously close to snorting his water. “Damn it, Kaz,” he sputtered. All three of them were laughing now.

  “All right,” Janeway said, mirth still bubbling in her voice. “No more comments about Commander Ellis. He’s got the credentials and you’re to give him a fair shot, both of you. Agreed?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Chakotay obligingly, knowing the term annoyed her.

  She glared at him. “Changing the subject,” she said, “I want to make sure you know that after the initial resistance, I’ve been hearing a lot of enthusiasm about your taking over Voyager. In fact, you were specifically requested for this mission.”

  Chakotay was so surprised by this comment that he missed the shot. He was sure that unlike Kaz, who made every wry comment with deliberate calculation, Janeway hadn’t timed her statement purposely to throw his game off.

  “Really?” he said. “Considering the nature of the mission, that surprises me.”

  “It shouldn’t,” Janeway said. “It’s just one of those little ironies that make life so interesting. The odds that your first mission would take you back to areas of space that you fought to liberate as a Maquis might seem steep until you consider that nearly everything right now is revolving around recovering from the war.”

  “The war we missed,” said Chakotay. “I’m tired about hearing how lucky we were.”

  Janeway had just two more balls to sink before she won the game. She examined the table as she spoke.

  “The fact that you’re involved in this right now indicates that everyone is ready to move into the healing phase,” she said.

  “Not everyone,” said Kaz. “I have to tell you, as someone who was here when the war was going on, that the last thing anyone expected was to have some of the worlds we fought to protect turn on us afterward.”

  Janeway made her shot. Only one ball was left on the table.

  “I wouldn’t say they turned on us,” she said mildly. “The war was dreadful. We lost so many people. Some planets are inclined to blame Federation policy instead of the Dominion for those losses. It’s to be expected.” She sank the final ball with a great deal of force. “But it’s not correct.”

  “The Federation has always been about reaching out to others, helping them,” said Kaz. “Being involved, being compassionate. Just because sometimes some worlds or species take advantage of that doesn’t mean the policy doesn’t work. In the history of the Federation, that policy has worked much, much more often than it’s failed.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Janeway, racking the balls for the next game. She handed her cue to Kaz. “Of course, every Federation planet has the right to withdraw from the Federation if it so chooses. But it’s important that that choice be made for the right reasons, or everyone suffers.”

  “The galaxy is smaller than ever these days,” said Chakotay. “We’ve expanded into two more quadrants in just the last few years. No one can afford to go it alone.”

  Chakotay knew that this theme of unity had become Janeway’s passion over the last few months. While she still enjoyed teaching the fresh faces at the Academy with Tuvok, it wasn’t enough to keep her sharp mind occupied. As a captain, she might have been able to scratch the itch by taking her ship out to where the action was. As an admiral, she didn’t have that opportunity.

  But she had something else, Chakotay had learned: access to information, and power to directly influence policy. The thing that had kept Voyager together under remarkable circumstances for seven full years was the crew’s devotion to Federation ideals, even—perhaps especially—on the part of the Maquis among them. To come home to a shattered quadrant recovering from war, and to see the Federation starting to splinter because of it, had been particularly painful to Janeway, and she had volunteered to take under her wing any and all missions that kept the still-wounded Federation together.

  Kaz broke, and they were all quiet for a moment as they watched the balls roll to various positions on the table.

  “Two, side pocket,” Kaz said.

  An unpleasant thought occurred to Chakotay. “Did Starfleet Command assign me this mission as a test? To remind me of my place?”

  As soon as he spoke the words, he realized how childish they sounded. But Janeway didn’t appear surprised.

  “That had occurred to me too,” she said. “I think it’s a by-product of the cynicism we experienced when we first returned. But no, Chakotay, I don’t think that’s truly the case. You’re taking passengers to repopulate Loran II. The fact that this planet has a similar history to Dorvan V was definitely taken into consideration, certainly. How could it not be? I don’t think anyone wanted to rub your nose in anything. On the contrary, the comment I’ve heard is that you were the best man for the job because you had empathy for the colonists, a sort of empathy no one else possessed. They, too, were handed over to the Cardassians; they, too, had to make the painful choice between evacuation and staying. In a mission all about healing and recovery, that sort of a connection is a big thing.”

  She smiled gently at him. A muffled oath from Kaz made them glance at the table. The Trill glumly handed Janeway the cue.

  “Next time,” he grumbled, “we play poker.”

  Chapter

  2

  CHAKOTAY HAD ALWAYS HAD a fierce loyalty to his friends, and his time on Voyager had only strengthened that quality. So when the small group gathered in the private room on Earth Station McKinley burst into applause when he entered in full dress uniform, he could honestly say that there wasn’t anyone there he hadn’t spent time with recently.

  He was a little embarrassed at the effusiveness of the greeting. Holding up his hands, he said, “Thank you, everyone. I’m so pleased you could attend. This is a very special moment for me, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate it than with all of you. Please,” he said, gesturing to the holographic waiters serving champagne and appetizers, “as you were.”

  Laughter rippled throughout the crowd as Chakotay greeted his friends one by one. Janeway was there, of course, beaming with pride. They embraced affectionately, and Chakotay kissed her cheek.

  Commander Tuvok stood by her side. Like everyone else, he had applauded politely, but he looked as though he regarded such an effusive d
isplay of approbation beneath him. Chakotay smothered a grin as he shook the Vulcan’s hand.

  “It’s not going to be the same without you as head of security, Tuvok,” Chakotay said.

  Tuvok inclined his head graciously at the compliment. “Thank you, Captain. However, I trust Lieutenant Kim will serve you admirably.”

  “I trust so, too,” said Lieutenant Harry Kim. He was present at this gathering because he would be the one taking Chakotay to the ship later. Everyone else under Chakotay’s command was already aboard Voyager.

  “Com—” Harry blushed. “Excuse me, Captain—you remember Libby Webber?”

  “It would be hard to forget someone like you, Miss Webber,” said Chakotay, turning to greet the lovely young musician who was famous throughout the quadrant. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I’m honored to be here today,” Libby smiled.

  Not for the first time, Chakotay thought Harry Kim a lucky man. His family was alive and well, he was progressing steadily in a career he loved, and he was dating a woman who was as intelligent and talented as she was attractive. Clearly, they doted on one another.

  “Sorry to be taking Harry away from you again,” Chakotay said.

  “As long as it’s not another seven years, I’ll be fine,” she replied, giving him a broad, sweet smile.

  Chakotay lifted his eyes from Libby’s to gaze right into a pair of intelligent blue ones. A slow smile spread across his face as he took the woman’s hand.

  “Hello, Seven,” he said softly.

  She smiled in return, that deep, radiant smile that reached her eyes and made everyone who saw it realize with certainty that she was human now, no longer Borg. They had seen one another a few times as friends since she had ended their relationship at their welcome-home banquet, and things had been easier than he had expected. Seven’s new job in the Federation think tank had been enough of a challenge to stimulate her powerful intellect, and her aunt Irene had exerted a warmly humanizing influence. The result was that Seven of Nine seemed happier than Chakotay had ever seen her on Voyager.

  He recalled the fears that she had expressed, fears that, if truth be told, he had shared to some degree. She had worried that she would not fit in on Earth. And those fears had appeared to be borne out initially. Now, those unpleasant events were but a memory, and Seven of Nine had blossomed under the blue skies of Earth.

  “Congratulations, Captain Chakotay,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Your promotion is well deserved. Your crew is to be envied.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Where’s that attractive aunt of yours?”

  “Right here,” came Irene Hansen’s warm voice. He turned and found himself caught up in a tight embrace, complete with a big kiss on the cheek. “You were so sweet to include me in the invitation!”

  “Of course I included you,” he said. He winked and added, “I’ve had too many delicious meals at your house not to hedge my bets for more.”

  A heavy sigh made him turn around. The Doctor was regarding one of the holographic waiters with a sad look on his face. Chakotay felt a pang of sympathy. The Doctor had unwittingly gotten himself embroiled in controversy when he arrived on Earth. While he had been cleared to Starfleet’s satisfaction, Chakotay knew he was still passionate about holographic rights. The waiters that had been programmed to cater to the needs of the guests at this small party were hardly the remarkable holographic program that the Doctor was, but Chakotay knew the Doctor felt a sort of kinship with them nonetheless.

  “All ready for your presentation, Doc?” Chakotay inquired. The Doctor had been invited to speak before a special Federation subcommittee on the issue of holographic rights. Chakotay knew how important this was to the Doctor, but suspected that it was rather low on the list of the Federation’s priorities. He hoped he was mistaken and that the Doctor’s comments would be well received.

  The Doctor turned and brightened when he saw Chakotay. “Captain Chakotay! It’s such a pleasure to be here on this auspicious day. Thank you for asking. Yes, I’m a bit nervous about it, but Seven assures me that my speech is powerful and compelling.” He hesitated, and then added, “Of course, she’s listened to me read it six times now.”

  “It is a strong and well-reasoned piece of oratory, Doctor,” said Seven, “but repetition does dull one’s appreciation for it.”

  “I wish it had been possible to have the two of you back on Voyager,” Chakotay said sincerely. “We could certainly use you. But it seems to me that both of you are enjoying your present line of work. Is that the case?”

  “It is…stimulating,” said Seven.

  “What exactly is it you think about in your think tank?”

  “Everything,” the Doctor replied.

  “The Doctor exaggerates,” Seven chided.

  “Not by much,” the Doctor retorted.

  “Our think tank serves the Federation in general, not one specific branch. Therefore, we are not inhibited by which lines of inquiry and investigation we choose to pursue. Our requests for supplies and information are met without complaint. We analyze the potential flaws in military plans, search for cures for diseases, and test inventions. We exchange views, perform research, conduct experiments, and then present our findings to the Federation.”

  “Only Seven could make such thrilling work sound dull,” said the Doctor. “There are eight of us, each one a specialist in his or her—or its—field. We bounce ideas off each other. Brainstorm. Approach things from off-the-wall directions.” His eyes gleamed. “Sometimes we just flat-out argue.”

  “We do not argue,” said Seven in a tone of voice that indicated they’d hashed this one out before. “We debate. There is a difference.”

  “Seven,” said the Doctor patiently, “food was thrown yesterday. Hurling of victuals does not constitute proper terms of debate.”

  “That has never happened before, and Tklish expressed proper remorse and chagrin,” said Seven. She turned to Chakotay and arched an eyebrow. “We debate,” she repeated.

  Chakotay’s smile grew as a comforting warmth stole over him. He loved listening to these two banter with each other. It was so good to be back in the company of these dear old friends. Almost all of them were here. Even Neelix had sent him a message of congratulations last night all the way from the Delta Quadrant. While Chakotay was silently grateful that the Talaxian’s longing to personally cater the party was impossible to fulfill, Neelix’s chipper presence would have been deeply welcomed.

  The soft sound of a youngster clearing her throat drew his attention back to the room. He turned and saw Naomi Wildman grinning at him. Behind her stood the girl’s parents, the Ktarian Greskrendtregk and the human Samantha Wildman, and Icheb.

  “Now this is a surprise,” Chakotay said to Icheb. “You’re supposed to be in classes, aren’t you?”

  “When your instructors are Admiral Janeway and Commander Tuvok,” Icheb replied, “it’s a little easier to skip class for Voyager’s relaunch.”

  “I imagine it would be.” Chakotay shook the former Borg’s hand and clapped him on the back. He opened his arms and hugged Naomi. “Goodness, Naomi, you’ve grown so much!”

  “In a year or so I’ll be able to apply for Starfleet Academy,” said Naomi, looking more like a coltish teenager than the appealing little girl Chakotay remembered.

  “Time does fly,” said Chakotay. “What field would you be interested in pursuing?”

  Naomi looked thoughtful. “I’m not quite sure yet. Either quantum mechanics theory or mythology and culture. Or maybe genetics.”

  “That’s quite a variety of interests. Whichever you pick, I’m sure you’ll do your parents proud,” Chakotay said. Looking at her mother, he added, “Congratulations, by the way, on your promotion, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Samantha Wildman formally before breaking into her easy grin. Chakotay exchanged pleasantries with Greskrendtregk, then continued to greet his guests.

  If only Tom and
B’Elanna had been able to attend, the circle of companions would be complete. But the Paris family was on Boreth. After B’Elanna had undergone a traumatic ordeal in an attempt to find her mother, she discovered a need to immerse herself in Klingon tradition for a time. Tom, a full-blooded human, had been permitted to reside in the sacred place only after special dispensation from Emperor Kahless himself, and it would have insulted the famous Klingon honor to request permission to leave for anything less than a death in the family—and, Chakotay mused wryly, knowing Klingons, perhaps not even then.

  He wandered around for a while, permitting himself to enjoy the moment. All too soon his attention was directed back to his duties by a soft cough from Kim.

  “Captain,” Kim said, “we should be departing shortly.”

  “Of course,” said Chakotay. Janeway had been watching him without appearing to do so, and now she stepped forward.

  “Everyone have a glass of something?” she asked, smiling a little as Seven took a glass of apple juice instead of champagne. The former Borg did not handle alcohol well. “I would like to propose a toast.”

  Janeway turned to Chakotay, her blue eyes sparkling like the champagne she lifted in his honor.

  “To Captain Chakotay,” she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “The best first officer anyone could ever have, and a captain who will do Starfleet proud. If I could make one wish for you, Captain Chakotay, it would be that you have a crew on Voyager who serves you as well as mine served me.”

  “Three cheers for Captain Chakotay!” said Harry Kim. Chakotay blushed at the old custom. “Hip hip—”

  “Hooray!” everyone chorused.

  Twice more Kim led the cheers and then the guests broke into applause. Chakotay waved, calling for silence.

  “It really is good to see so many of you,” he said. “I hope I will indeed do Starfleet proud. After all,” he added, “I did learn from the best. I’ve got a toast of my own. To the former captain of this noble ship—Admiral Kathryn Janeway!”