Spirit Walk, Book Two

by Christie Golden

  A frown marred her pretty face. “I wish I could, sir, but…sir, it appears to be from Irene Hansen.”

  Kim’s head whipped up, but Chakotay appeared not to have noticed.

  “Irene Hansen,” Chakotay repeated. “On-screen.”

  Was it Kim’s imagination, or was Chakotay drawing a blank at the name? Chakotay—the real Chakotay—would know exactly who this was. Everyone knew Seven’s jovial aunt. But why would she be—

  Irene Hansen’s lined face appeared on the screen. Normally, she always had a hint of her smile and her eyes twinkled. Now, however, she had put on no makeup. Her hair was unkempt, and her eyes darted about.

  “Chakotay?” she said in a shaky voice. “Chakotay, is that you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

  “Annika…I want to talk to Annika….” Her gaze wandered off to the right, and she fell silent.

  For the briefest instant Kim was terribly worried. Then he realized what was going on—what had to be going on. Irene Hansen had a sharp mind and was in full possession of her faculties.

  “Ms. Hansen,” said Chakotay, his voice starting to sound harsh, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Seven isn’t on Voyager anymore.”

  Irene set her mouth, looking like a stubborn child. “That’s just silly. You shouldn’t try to trick an old woman like that, Frederick. I want to talk to Annika, and you should put me through to her right now.”

  “Mute,” Chakotay said to Campbell, who quickly obeyed, looking surprised and embarrassed for poor Irene Hansen.

  Kim swallowed and followed his gut hunch. “Sir,” he said, “Seven’s aunt has been this way for some time.”

  Now I’ve done it, he thought. If somehow this really is Chakotay, he’ll know I’m lying. Irene Hansen was at his send-off party, for pity’s sake…. Good thing no one else on the bridge was there….

  “I’m sorry about that, but she’s got no business interfering with a starship on an important mission,” Chakotay snapped irritably.

  A huge wave of combined relief and horror washed over Kim.

  It really wasn’t Chakotay.

  “May I alert Seven? She’ll want to talk to her aunt,” he said, shocked at how casual his voice sounded.

  “Chakotay” considered this. “Let me do it,” he said, and Kim’s hopes fell. He had thought that Seven might be trying to contact them privately by sending her aunt as a “front.” But if Chakotay contacted her, there’d be no chance for her to tell Kim what they might have discovered.

  “I’ve got Seven, sir,” said Campbell.

  Seven of Nine’s lovely, cool face appeared on the viewscreen. “Captain Chakotay,” she said. “What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

  Kim didn’t dare risk looking up at her; he didn’t want to give the game away. He concentrated instead on his console—and his eyes widened.

  The woman was brilliant. She’d anticipated every possible problem. She was currently sending him an encrypted message, piggybacking it along the official channel. Quickly he began to download it.

  “Seven, your aunt is trying to contact you,” Chakotay said bluntly. No hellos, how are yous.

  Her eyes widened slightly. “I apologize, Captain. My aunt has been having…some difficulty lately. I hope she did not cause any problems.”

  “No, but I thought you might want to know.”

  “Thank you. I will contact her immediately.”

  Kim almost had it. Keep talking, Seven, he thought fiercely.

  “Is there anything else, Captain?”

  “No. Chakotay out.”

  Kim hoped he was the only one who caught the flicker of distress that passed over Seven’s face, like the faintest ripple in the surface of a pond when a stone was tossed into its depths. He hadn’t gotten all of the message, but he’d gotten most of it. Now to crack the code and share whatever information was there with Kaz.

  “That was weird,” said Campbell. “I didn’t know Seven’s aunt was having problems. I’m so sorry to hear it.”

  “You’re on duty on the bridge, Campbell,” said Chakotay. “Attend to your station.”

  Campbell’s fair face turned bright red. “Aye, sir. My apologies, sir.”

  The strain of the façade must be getting to the impostor, Kim thought. He wasn’t even trying to ape Chakotay’s mannerisms and demeanor anymore.

  Kim burned to get at that message, but he didn’t know how he would manage to excuse himself from the bridge and escape the eagle eyes that belonged to someone who wasn’t Chakotay.

  Libby thought Kim’s voice was so controlled it was almost cold. She was startled, but immediately logic kicked in and she thought: He knows something’s going on. I should have realized that would happen. Harry’s not stupid. At least he’ll have his wits about him.

  She wanted so badly to discuss it, to ask him what he knew, what was going on, but she couldn’t. She had to play the role of pretty, bright, talented girlfriend, and besides, it was obvious she wasn’t going to get a chance to speak to him privately. So she let her face register the hurt she knew she ought to be feeling. It’s too bad we can’t be allies. I hate deceiving him like this.

  Once his face had disappeared from the screen, she shifted gears immediately, going into the detached, emotionless state that had become such familiar territory over the last few years. She knew she was going over Fletcher’s head but didn’t care. Libby would be able to explain it to him; they had a good working relationship and he relied on her judgment.

  Libby sent the message.

  Chapter 17

  IRENE HANSEN BEAMED as she regarded her niece. “Well?” she asked brightly. “How did I do?”

  “You were convincing,” said Seven.

  “From Seven, that’s high praise,” said the Doctor. “I thought you did a magnificent job, Ms. Hansen.”

  “I confess, when you first proposed the scheme, I was a bit nervous,” the older woman said. “I don’t like the idea of trying to fool Chakotay. But when I did it, I have to admit, it was a lot of fun. Made me feel positively young again.” Somewhat wistfully she added, “You will tell me what all of this is about? When you can?”

  “Of course I will, Aunt Irene,” Seven assured her. “Once everything has been declassified.”

  “I’d better let you be about…whatever it is you’re about,” said Irene. “Do keep me posted.”

  “I will. Thank you again.” Seven hesitated. “You did a fine job.”

  Irene smiled, waved, and signed off.

  “Do you know if Lieutenant Kim was able to get the message?” the Doctor inquired.

  “What I am certain of is that he was unable to receive the complete message,” Seven said, her fingers flying over the pads. “Even though he is no longer head of operations on Voyager, I have no doubt that he has remembered his skill at that post. It is entirely up to him now.”

  “At least we can get this to Admiral Janeway,” the Doctor said.

  Janeway wished she could have been aboard the Delta Flyer instead of being forced to sit in a conference hall and listen to the same argument being played out again and again.

  The hope had been, on the Federation’s part, to convince the planets that had expressed a desire to secede to remain. Unfortunately, the plan was not achieving that goal. If anything, it was causing those who had been on the fence to opt with the Secessionists. Janeway knew that the representatives of at least two member planets had gone from unsure to certain—about leaving. She desperately hoped that there would be no more added to that number, especially not Merin Kol.

  She spotted the Kerovian amar in one of the front rows and vowed to somehow find a few minutes to talk with the woman. She seemed to want to have a reason to stay, but if Janeway didn’t give her one, and a good one at that, Janeway knew that Kerovi would also turn its back on an alliance of over forty years.

  The presentation ended. Janeway blinked. She’d been so lost in thought—about Chakotay, about Paris, about Kim
and Kaz and the colonists—that she hadn’t paid much attention to what was going on right in front of her.

  Break time, she thought. As she rose, stiff from sitting, she caught Merin Kol’s eye. The other woman smiled in acknowledgment, but was quickly obscured by the exiting crowd.

  Janeway tried to make her way toward the amar, but she felt a light touch on her shoulder and turned to see Tuvok. He looked even graver than usual.

  “You have another message, Admiral. Priority channel gamma one.”

  Her eyes widened. Not only was this an urgent message, but it came from an untraceable source. She tasted disappointment at once again being unable to talk privately with Kol, but her duty was clear. Tuvok followed her, his silent presence a comfort, as she reached the private room where she could take the message.

  “No, stay, Tuvok,” she said to her old friend as the Vulcan turned to leave. “I have a feeling I may need you, now that I’ve dispatched Paris.”

  Tuvok inclined his head. “As you wish, Admiral.”

  She licked lips suddenly gone dry and entered her personal data code. Old-fashioned lettering, white against a black background, scrolled across the screen.

  Admiral: There is a traitor on Voyager, a mole who has been accessing confidential information about the crew and ship for several months and who has been active for years. He is Commander Andrew Ellis. He is believed to be dangerous. Take all precautions when apprehending.

  The message was signed: Peregrine.

  “Our elusive friend from a few months ago,” Janeway said. She recalled that the mysterious “Peregrine” had appeared before at a crucial time, his or her untraceable messages always accurate, always helpful. Previously Peregrine had given them information that had helped save their lives—and, perhaps, the lives of everyone on Earth.

  “This could be a trap of some sort,” the ever-cautious Tuvok warned his former captain. “There is no way to document that this is the same Peregrine. And whoever it is, is not as up-to-date on the situation as we are. Commander Ellis is dead.”

  Janeway listened to Tuvok; she always listened to Tuvok. But she was also thinking furiously, staring at the white lettering as if trying to brand it into her brain.

  “Yes, Ellis is definitely dead, according to both Kaz and Kim. Not, apparently, according to Chakotay.” She turned to regard him with an intense gaze. “Dead by cuts inflicted by someone or something wielding a scalpel and leaving no trace of himself behind; dead just recently but somehow showing signs of long-term stasis.”

  She pointed at the screen. “Peregrine says he’s been active for years. That’s quite a feat for someone who’s been in stasis for so long. I’m wondering if we’re looking at something much more sinister than a mole, Tuvok.”

  “While we do not yet have all the facts, and the facts that we do have are perplexing and seemingly contradictory,” Tuvok said, “logic still supports your conclusion.”

  He is believed to be dangerous. Take all precautions when apprehending.

  So lost in thought was Janeway, her mind examining the options and coming up with only one that would fit all the evidence, she jumped when the computer chimed. At once Peregrine’s warning vanished from the screen. She had committed the few words to memory, knowing that once the message was gone, it would be gone for good. Peregrine was not about to let himself—herself?—be traced.

  “Another message on my private channel,” said Janeway. “I’m in for a busy afternoon.”

  Seven of Nine and the Doctor appeared, looking serious.

  “For people I no longer work with, I’m seeing quite a lot of you two,” Janeway said. More seriously, she added, “What do you have for me?”

  “Dr. Kaz was correct,” Seven said bluntly. “The DNA is from Guillaume Fortier. It’s been restructured and crossed with a variety of other sources of DNA to create a new species.”

  Janeway forced herself not to shudder. This monstrosity was exactly why genetic engineering had been made illegal in the Federation. It was too easy to go too far, to do something horrific in the name of advancing science.

  “Is it possible to reverse the damage?”

  The Doctor and Seven exchanged glances. “Fortunately, Opharix is a specialist in the field of genetics. It’s hard at work on that right now,” the Doctor said. “Naturally, we have been able to offer valuable input as well. But as you know, Admiral, it’s easier to destroy than create.”

  “Whoever did this to Guillaume Fortier thought he was creating,” Janeway said.

  Seven’s eyes flashed in outrage. “Whoever did this needs to be found and brought to justice. What happened to the colonists is not creativity, nor science. It is a crime.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more, Seven,” Janeway said. “I’ve learned a little something myself. If,” she added, with a nod in Tuvok’s direction, “my source can be trusted.”

  “Who might that be?” the Doctor inquired.

  “Someone who calls himself Peregrine,” Janeway said.

  The Doctor and Seven exchanged glances. “Peregrine was accurate in his suspicions the last time he communicated with us,” Seven said. “What does he have to say this time?”

  Janeway recited the message, and again the two old friends exchanged glances. The Doctor sighed heavily.

  “Admiral,” he said slowly, “our group has come to the conclusion that the murderer of Commander Ellis has to be—”

  “A shape-shifter, possibly a Changeling,” Janeway finished for him. The Doctor’s eyes reached for his hairline, and even Seven looked surprised.

  “May I ask what made you reach that conclusion?” she asked.

  “It’s the only answer that fits the evidence. Ellis wasn’t a mole. He couldn’t have been. The poor man has been in stasis for six years while someone else has been impersonating him. Chakotay is acting completely unlike himself and I tripped him up on a ‘remember when’ story when I last spoke to him. There’s no trace of DNA on the body that isn’t Ellis’s own, and the mole Peregrine warned us about has been reading up on Voyager’s crew. How this all ties in with the genetic manipulation of the colonists, I’ve no idea. But I’ll find out.”

  Seven and the Doctor were solemn. “What would you like us to do, Admiral?” Seven asked quietly.

  “Keep doing what you’re doing. There’s got to be a way for us to return those colonists to their human state. Tuvok, Paris, and I will do what we can on our end.”

  “Admiral,” said Tuvok, “Starfleet Command must be advised of the situation.”

  Janeway thought hard. “Not yet,” she said, “and I’ll take that responsibility on myself.”

  Controlled as his features were, Janeway knew her friend well enough to recognize surprise and disapproval on that familiar, dark face. “Admiral, I strongly suggest that you reconsider.”

  She shook her head. “Think about it. The shape-shifter murdered Ellis in cold blood, after apparently going to great lengths to keep him alive in stasis for six years. Why would he do such a thing? Why kill him now, and not before? My guess is: in order to produce a freshly killed corpse when it was convenient for him to do so. How many others does he have, hidden away for just such an occasion? Chakotay for one, I’m certain of it. I’m daring to hope that he’s still alive, but if the Changeling gets wind that we know what’s going on, everyone on that ship is going to be in jeopardy. Tom’s on his way there right now. I’ll let him know what he’s dealing with. He can monitor the situation until help arrives.”

  “If you are not going to contact Starfleet Command, what form will that ‘help’ take?” Tuvok wanted to know.

  “I’m not sure yet, Tuvok,” Janeway replied honestly. “I’m not sure.”

  Kaz was starting to see the beach when he closed his eyes for even a moment.

  They walked together now, he and Gradak. Stride for stride, feet sinking into the soft sand washed smooth by the ceaseless purple tides. They were growing more alike with each step, the doctor and the Maquis. Jarem glanced
at Gradak as they walked, and almost before his eyes the lines of care and fear seemed to melt from around his eyes and mouth.

  Jarem was starting to listen.

  He sighed and opened his eyes. Hours had passed since they had spoken to Janeway, Seven, and the Doctor, and they’d heard nothing. It wouldn’t be much longer until they reached Loran II, and who knew what would happen then. Maybe it was time for another attempt.

  “Kaz to Chakotay.” He marveled that his voice didn’t sound the least bit shaky.

  You’re getting good at this, Gradak thought approvingly.

  “Chakotay here. What is it, Doctor?”

  “Is Lieutenant Kim at his station?”

  “Yes, he’s here.”

  “I’ve processed the data I took on the away team, and I think he may have the beginnings of a mild case of Umari flu,” he said. “Of course I should have caught it at once, but we’ve all been a little distracted recently. I’d like to examine him again and stop the flu in its tracks.”

  A pause. Kaz’s heart raced.

  “Very well, I’ll send him down. Chakotay out.”

  Kaz leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath. A few moments later Kim burst into sickbay.

  “That was brilliant, Kaz!” the younger man exclaimed. “What the hell is Umari flu?”

  “Completely made up,” Kaz said. “I thought we might try to contact—”

  Kim held up a hand. “I’m way ahead of you. We had an interesting message about an hour ago. From Irene Hansen. She was incoherent and trying to reach Seven of Nine.”

  “But Irene Hansen is fine! She’s one of the sharpest people I’ve ever met. She’s in full control of her faculties.”

  Kim grinned. “Exactly. But whoever’s sitting in the command chair right now didn’t know that, and contacted Seven of Nine so she could tend to her poor auntie. While Seven was talking, she sent me an encoded message. I don’t think I quite got it all—Chakotay was pretty keen on wrapping up the message quickly—but I got something.”

  “You know,” said Kaz, “it’s never a dull moment with you Voyagers.”