He regarded her steadily. “You think we will find our families dead, then?”
She met his gaze without flinching. “I don’t know any more than you do. But it’s a possibility. You are too intelligent a man not to know that.”
Fortier smiled sadly. “Intelligent, perhaps. Hopeful, certainly. But you are right. We should prepare both ceremonies, just in case.”
Sekaya gestured to the objects spread before her. “These are items typical of what I might use if I were designing the ritual for my people. These symbols all have meaning; the items represent the elements and some of the various spirit beings in which my tribe believes. Tell me what is important to you, to those who remained behind. We can replicate whatever we need to make the ritual feel right to you and your fellow colonists.”
Fortier stared at the items, reaching to trace a pattern with a long forefinger. She let him keep the silence until he was ready to break it.
At last, he spoke. “I’m afraid to do this, Sekaya.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid that if we design a ceremony for the dead, then we’ll find them dead. I’m afraid that if we design a ceremony that is joyful, Fate will laugh in our faces. It’s silly, I know, but there it is.”
He turned haunted eyes to her. “I’ve kept this dream alive for years. More times than I can count, I have imagined transporting down to Loran II and embracing my brother, seeing the buildings—the homes—that we were forced to abandon standing ready and waiting for us. I’ve asked my people to hang on to that hope. What if it’s not there?”
Gently, Sekaya placed a hand on his arm. “Then you grieve. You honor your dead. You decide if you want to stay, and if you do, you start over.”
He placed his own hand, strong and warm, over hers and squeezed it gently. “You sound as if you know exactly what that’s like.”
She looked him full in the eye. “I do, Marius. I do.”
Chapter
16
JANEWAY AND TUVOK were not permitted to transport down to the surface of Boreth, but Commander Logt granted permission, albeit grudgingly, for B’Elanna to beam up to say hello to her old friends.
Paris let out something perilously close to a whoop as he and his wife materialized on—
“The Delta Flyer!” he exclaimed in delight. “Oh, sweetheart, am I happy to see you!”
“Do I get at least a hello?” came a warm voice.
“Absolutely,” Tom said to Admiral Janeway, stepping forward for a handshake and finding himself pulled into a friendly hug. Janeway embraced B’Elanna with equal enthusiasm. Tuvok merely quirked an eyebrow slightly higher than usual.
“Now, B’Elanna, let me see this precious little girl,” said Janeway, holding out her arms for Miral. Paris said a small prayer that his daughter would be on her best behavior. You could never tell; sometimes Miral was an angel and sometimes she was…well, not. Fortunately, all seemed to be well for the moment, and Miral rewarded Janeway’s beaming smile with an intent, focused look. Tom sneaked another look around, pleased beyond his expectations to see the Flyer again. His fingers itched to touch the controls, but for the moment, he had to be satisfied with running his hand along the back of a seat.
“My goodness, little one,” the admiral said. “You are so much bigger than when I last saw you.”
Janeway traced the subtle brow ridges with a finger, smiled as the baby blew a spit bubble, kissed the little hand, and handed the girl back to her mother.
“She’s beautiful. How is life on Boreth for the parents of so young a baby?”
“Surprisingly good,” said Paris. He told Janeway about the imposing Kularg and his tender care of the children entrusted to him.
“Better than her godfather?” asked Janeway.
Paris’s face softened. “Nah,” he said, suddenly realizing how much he missed the EMH and his other friends. Six months on Boreth had been a long time. “No one’s better with Miral than the Doc. Not even us.”
“How’s he doing?” asked B’Elanna. “We haven’t heard much about any of you here.”
Janeway’s smile faltered a little. “Less well than we had hoped,” she said. “Seven is in her element, of course, as you can imagine, and the Doctor is too, truth be told. But he can’t shake his association with Baines and the HoloRevolution.”
“Partially,” Tuvok interjected, “because he continues to advance his cause.”
Paris’s blue eyes went cold. “Hey,” he said, gently but firmly. “Doc’s not a murderer.”
“I am not suggesting that he is,” replied Tuvok, unflappable as always. “But the Doctor has an agenda that is deeply personal to him, and continues to work toward the desired end.”
“He’s not in any trouble?” B’Elanna asked. Her brows drew together. “Because if he is—”
“No,” Janeway reassured her. “Nothing like that. But Tuvok’s right. The Doctor isn’t going to let the issue of holographic rights disappear as if it had never been brought up.”
“Nor should he,” said Paris.
Janeway regarded him, her eyes twinkling. “I see that I have quite a bit of work to do if I’m to polish this gem into a first officer,” she said.
Paris felt his face grow hot. “Sorry, Admiral. It’s just that—”
“Oh, I agree with you, Tom, and if it were just the four of us—the five of us,” she amended, smiling at the baby, “I’d be happy to discuss it with you till the wee hours over coffee. But we’re about to get under way for a diplomatic mission, and I think you’d be wise to leave the holographic rights issue, as well as any other particularly controversial subject, at home.”
“You’re right, of course,” Tom said. He hadn’t missed the hint she’d dropped and realized that the painful moment of parting with his family had arrived. He and B’Elanna had said a more intimate farewell earlier, and the small confines of the Flyer in front of Janeway and Tuvok was hardly the place for a heartfelt good-bye.
So he took their child from her, kissed his little girl sweetly, and bent and kissed his wife on the cheek.
“Make me proud,” she said.
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “Gotta come back to Boreth with honor, right?”
B’Elanna seemed about to say something, hesitated, and then smiled. She caressed his cheek one last time, then stepped back. He was surprised at how his heart ached as they dematerialized.
“Now, Mr. Paris,” said Janeway, “You and I need to get down to business.”
Sekaya sat on the sun-warmed rock and wept.
Chakotay was gone. He had left with the Starfleet people the day before. Things had not been the same since he and Kolopak had returned from their trip to Earth, despite Kolopak’s amazing news about finally meeting the Rubber Tree People. The moment that Sekaya and her mother saw father and son walk up toward the hut, their eyes on the ground and their bodies stiff with tension, the women realized that the trip, intended to bond the two, had only driven them further apart. And when Chakotay announced his decision to leave and attend Starfleet Academy, Sekaya was certain that everyone could hear the sound of her heart breaking.
They had their differences, as all siblings did, but they had always been close. And now he was gone. Wanting to be away from anyone, needing to nurse her grief alone, Sekaya had sought solace in this place. Chakotay had discovered it when they were younger, off carelessly exploring one sunny afternoon, and it was a special place for both of them. Nowhere did she feel closer to her brother than here.
Gradually her sobs ceased, and she wiped her hand across her streaming nose. Even as she did, she smiled at what her parents would say. Such conduct was not becoming of a young woman. Sekaya was almost fifteen, and she should not behave in such a way.
“Sekaya?”
She would know that voice anywhere. Although normally she loved Blue Water Boy’s company, he was the last person she wanted to see now. Hastily, Sekaya rose and dove into the little lake so that he would not be able to tell that she had been cr
ying.
When she emerged, she saw him sitting on the rock looking solemnly at her.
“I’m sorry you’ve been crying,” he said. She almost smiled. It had been silly to think she could slip anything past him. “I will miss Chakotay too. It was always the three of us doing everything together. It will be very different now.”
He did seem sad, but also, as always, a bit distant and a little dreamy, as if he wasn’t fully present. Sekaya eased herself out of the pool and sat beside him. He seemed not to mind that her wet swimming sarong made a little puddle that expanded to include him. They stared silently into the water, their reflections shimmering into solidity as the surface calmed.
“I don’t know what I’ll do without him,” Sekaya admitted finally. “I feel like half of myself has gone. And it was so sudden, so unexpected. I had no idea.”
Blue Water Boy looked at her and smiled. He had grown tall and lanky with the passing of the years, but had lost none of his little-boy sweetness.
“You knew, Sky,” he said, using the nickname he’d created as a little boy trying to pronounce her name for the first time. “You just didn’t want to know that you knew. He was always trying to get us to talk to the Starfleet officers, imagining scenarios of life on a starship. Chakotay is a contrary. He must always walk the hardest path. That is his destiny. It’s a hard fate, but he’ll learn much.”
He looked back into the water, meeting her reflection’s eyes. “And he’ll come back.”
She snorted. “No, he won’t. Even if he wanted to, I doubt Father would let him.”
“Your father adores both of you, Sky. They’ll mend the rift one day. Chakotay will return. You’ll see.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugged. “I just do.”
And she believed him. Blue Water Boy did “just know” things. It was uncanny, sometimes, and was one reason he was not the most popular among the young men of his tribe. Or the young women; Sekaya never saw him pair off at any of the all-tribe dances. For that matter, neither did she; she, her brother, and Blue Water Boy would always hang around one another rather than socialize with the other young people. When the three of them were together, they knew that they were in the finest of company.
He reached inside the small pack he carried and withdrew his flute. He was hardly ever without the instrument. He held it in his hands for a moment, stroking the dark, polished wood reverently.
“When I learned Chakotay was leaving,” he said quietly, still staring raptly at the flute, “I wept for him too. But I wept with music, not tears. Do you want to hear it, Sekaya, during your nuanka?”
Her throat closed up so that words could not creep past the lump, so she merely nodded. Blue Water Boy made a song for everything—for the dawn in the morning, the hatching of eggs, a good hunt, a starlit night. The songs were always exquisite, and Sekaya both dreaded and feared the power of the music that would issue from the carved wooden instrument.
A breeze ruffled his dark hair as he brought the flute to his lips and began to play. Sekaya listened, the tears returning. Blue Water Boy had not been speaking metaphorically when he said that he wept with his music. The clear, haunting sound wrapped around Sekaya like a woven blanket, tears transformed into musical notes, and, heedless of how immature she would appear to her childhood friend, she wept while he played. How long they both sat and grieved, each in his or her own way, she didn’t know, but at last, she felt as though all her tears had been cried.
Blue Water Boy put away his flute and resumed staring quietly into the lake’s surface. Sekaya’s heart still ached for the loss of her brother’s presence, but now, somehow, she found that it beat a little faster. She continued to regard Blue Water Boy’s face in the water; it was always pleasant to look upon, but now it was handsome, a young man’s face. He, too, looked at her, and her breathing suddenly quickened. Abruptly, she was shy around this young man. And Sekaya was never shy.
She dragged her gaze away from the water and looked directly into Blue Water Boy’s eyes. She saw in them gentleness, wonder, and the same odd shyness she was feeling.
“Sky,” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly.
She closed her eyes and leaned forward, giving the honor of her first kiss to this sweet boy she had loved all her life, who pressed his lips to hers with at first a kind of hesitant awe, then with increasing passion, not dreamy and distant from her, not anymore….
“Chakotay to Sekaya.”
Sekaya bolted awake, heart hammering. Where was she? She took in the room and realized that she had fallen asleep. Collecting herself, she tapped her combadge and replied, “Sekaya here. What is it, Chakotay?”
“We’re about to enter orbit around Loran II. Thought you’d want to be on the bridge when we drop out of warp.”
“I do indeed. I’m on my way.” She ran a quick brush through her hair, slipped on her shoes, deliberately banished thoughts of Blue Water Boy and their first kiss, and headed for the turbolift.
Chapter
17
BY THE TIME Sekaya reached the bridge, Fortier and Astall were already there. Fortier greeted Sekaya with a brief smile, then returned his gaze to the viewscreen. He folded his arms tightly against his body. Astall’s ears flapped gently, betraying her agitation.
Chakotay nodded to his sister, then gave the command. “Helm, drop out of warp and establish orbit around Loran II.”
“Aye, Captain.” Smoothly, Tare complied.
“Campbell, put it on-screen.”
Campbell touched her controls, and Loran II appeared on the huge screen. It was a beautiful planet; its brown and green landmasses and lush oceans reminded Chakotay of Earth, the place that even now he thought of as home.
“There’s a lot of debris floating around here still, all of it old,” said Kim.
“Captain,” said Campbell, “there seems to be an extremely active storm system centered over a small part of the northern hemisphere.”
Chakotay frowned. “Let’s see it.”
For a moment, everyone stared at the huge storm system slowly turning. It looked like a hurricane or a cyclone.
“But…that’s exactly where our colony is!” exclaimed Fortier.
“Lieutenant, attempt to hail the colony.”
“No response, sir,” Campbell said. “Readings are inconclusive but…” She hesitated, then said, “But there seem to be no humanoid life readings anywhere on the planet.” She touched the controls. “I’m picking up some kind of surge…. It could be a natural phenomenon, but it has a pretty high EM reading.” She grimaced slightly. “And I should tell you we’ve been having trouble with the ops system before—a ghost or two in the works.”
Chakotay gazed at the strange storm, frowning. There was something oddly familiar about this, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Mr. Fortier, what sort of research did your colony perform?”
Fortier had swallowed hard at Campbell’s announcement, but spoke calmly. “The usual—biological, geological, meteorological.”
“Did you have any sort of weather-control technology?” Chakotay asked. It wasn’t unheard of; it was how Risa managed to maintain its tourist base.
Fortier shook his dark head. “No. We studied the weather, of course, just like we studied everything else on the planet. But we made no attempts to control it.”
“Were storms like this common?”
Fortier turned to him. “Captain,” he said quietly, “I’ve never seen anything like this before in my life.”
“Lieutenant, is this a natural or a created storm?” asked Chakotay.
“I’m not detecting anything that leads me to believe it’s artificial,” Campbell replied. “But if I may speak freely, sir, the fact that it happens to be located directly above the only area with technology seems too coincidental for this to be natural.”
“Captain,” said Kim, “if the Cardassians did occupy the planet at any point, this might be something they established.”
&n
bsp; “That would make sense,” Campbell said, nodding. “This signal could very well be a by-product of weather control technology in operation.”
“Yes,” said Sekaya in an odd voice, staring at the image. Her arms, like Fortier’s, were folded tightly across her chest. “Yes, the Cardassians did things like that.”
Chakotay gave her a sharp look, but she continued to gaze at the screen. He rubbed his chin, considering his words carefully.
“Mr. Fortier, depending on what we find down there, it might be a good idea for you to consider reestablishing the colony elsewhere.”
Fortier whirled on Chakotay. “Absolutely not! That is our home, Captain. We had our children there.” His throat worked. “It now seems likely that we will bury our dead there. We must find out what happened. And when we do, we’ll reclaim this place and make it thrive again. None of us has any desire to start all over again somewhere else, no matter…no matter what we might find down there.”
Chakotay searched his eyes for a moment. He hoped that Fortier’s desire would be possible to fulfill. But Chakotay’s would be the final decision. He was under orders to keep the colonists safe, above everything else. If that meant forcing them to relocate elsewhere on Loran II, or even insisting they abandon the planet altogether, he knew he’d do it.
“Before we make any final decisions,” Chakotay said, “I’ve got to make sure it’s safe. Mr. Ellis, you’re to lead the away team.”
Ellis did a double take. Chakotay smothered a smile. He’d never seen his first officer look more surprised.
“Begging your pardon, Captain, but I assumed you’d be the one to lead an away team,” he said.
“I’m not quite the rebel that you and many in Starfleet think, Mr. Ellis,” he said, still smiling but also very serious. “It’s my first mission and I’m going by the book. I’m sure you of all people can appreciate that.”
Spirit Walk, Book One Page 15
