Spirit Walk, Book Two Page 17

  “Over the years Moset had some success. Because of experiments with—with my people, he learned about our Sky Spirit DNA.”

  Kaz’s blue eyes flicked to Sekaya’s. She had her arms folded tightly across her chest and held her body in a defensive posture. Obviously Chakotay’s sister, too, loathed the Cardassian.

  “He was able to get some of the Changeling’s abilities back. He can now shift into any humanoid male form, but that’s it. Moset also crafted a way for him to lock into human form at will.”

  “So he could pass medical exams,” said Kaz, looking over at Moset. Despite his loathing of the man, one couldn’t help but admire his brilliance. “Very smart.”

  “Moset’s also been experimenting on the colonists, crossing Sky Spirit DNA with human. The creatures who attacked the away team are the result. They’ve got incredible mental abilities, Jarem. They can control the weather, move things with their thoughts—all kinds of things.”

  “He told me they were my reward,” Moset said, apparently unable to keep silent despite Chakotay’s gentle warning. “But he lied. He plans to keep them for himself, to create a powerful race of devoted slaves. He’s greedy and ambitious, and he wants to create his own personal Dominion. I won’t let that happen. That’s why I’ve decided to help you.”

  “As the old saying goes,” said Chakotay, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And Moset is certainly Ellis’s enemy now.”

  “Chakotay,” said Kaz in a thick voice, “I don’t know if I can work with him.”

  “Then you’d better know this,” Chakotay said somberly. Kaz turned pained eyes upon his friend and saw Chakotay was deadly serious. “One of the people the Changeling pretended to be was someone we both knew.” He paused, then said bluntly, “He was Arak Katal.”

  Kaz’s mouth went dry. His throat worked, but no sound came out. Sekaya sat down on the bed beside him and slipped an arm around him. At any other time he’d enjoy the attention from the lovely human female, but now he was so stunned the gesture barely registered.

  “Arak Katal?” he repeated. “We had Arak Katal on our ship?”

  Chakotay nodded. “We’ve got to stop him.”

  “They’re firing at us!” Ramma, only fourteen, his voice shrill with fear.

  “Of course they’re firing at us, they’re trying to kill us,” said Laskan to his twin, the harshness of his voice not quite hiding his own terror. They were so alike, but now reacted in completely different ways; Ramma terrified, Laskan, the elder by two minutes, trying so hard to look brave he only succeeded in looking angry….

  “Quiet, you two,” snapped their mother. Tall, with piercing green eyes and a strong jaw to match her strong body, Tixari continued firing the weapons while Gradak desperately tried to find a clear path out of the hell that was exploding around them.

  Gradak heard the soft whimper from the back even over the sounds of battle, and his heart ached. Kemi, only six years old. The blast had torn off her arm and her father had made an old-fashioned tourniquet from the fabric of his shirt. If nothing else, Gradak mused darkly, the Maquis had revived medical techniques that had been left behind two centuries ago. Sticks and fabric and water had been pressed into use when limited medical supplies ran out.

  The ship rocked from another volley of phaser fire. A huge vessel passed within meters of them, and Gradak could swear he could almost see the occupants. Not Cardassian, not these ships. Bigger, faster, and deadlier, these were…

  “Daddy,” breathed Kemi, and Gradak had to blink hard to clear his eyes of angry tears. “Daddy, I can’t feel my legs….”

  “Hang on, sweetie,” the girl’s father said in a broken voice. “Please hang on. We’ll get you to help. Won’t we, Kaz?”

  “Yes, we will,” Gradak Kaz rasped. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

  He knew that it would, indeed, be the last thing he did. He did not tell them he, too, had been shot. He had told them that the blood was from Amgar and Rekkan, whose bodies now lay quietly in the back; that it was not his own. But even as he got the lie out, he knew that he could not hang on to consciousness much longer.

  He had to get them to safety. Had to. From the depths of his brain, a tiny scrap of information floated up. There was a Federation ship stationed in this area of space. If he could just get to it—

  “Jarem.” The voice was soft, feminine. Vallia? No, Vallia was dead, had been killed by the Butcher of Bajor, along with so many others. “Jarem, I understand what you’re feeling. Believe me, I do. But we need you now.”

  Kaz moaned softly and buried his face in his hands. Behind his closed lids, he saw Gradak, his jaw set, his eyes blazing.

  Give me this body. I can take care of everything.

  And oh, Jarem wanted to let him.

  “No,” Jarem said quietly, to the other Trill. But Chakotay misunderstood.

  “There’s a way to stop Katal—the Changeling. Moset thinks he can do it, but it’s going to be risky, and I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you were working with him on this.”

  He sighed deeply. The two men he hated most in the universe were both on this planet. The question was, which did he hate more—the man who had killed Gradak’s wife, or the man who had betrayed thousands, including children, to slaughter at the hands of the Cardassians?

  The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

  He gazed at Moset, who gave him back stare for stare.

  “What do you need me to do?” he asked quietly.

  Chapter 20

  “I WILL NOT MAKE A DECISION until after I have spoken privately with Admiral Janeway,” Amar Merin Kol said in her soft but stubborn voice. “She has treated me with consideration, concern, and respect. I owe her at least a hearing.”

  The Changeling couldn’t believe his ears. When he’d last spoken with Kol, she’d all but capitulated to the “wisdom” he, posing as her adviser Alamys, had spoken. Now, even though she hadn’t had a single private conversation with the woman, that damned Janeway was starting to make the amar change her mind.

  “From what you have told me,” “Alamys” said, “Janeway hasn’t bothered to try to spend much time with you. Her Federation duties seem to keep pulling her away. How, then, do you come to the conclusion that you matter to her? That our humble little Kerovi matters?”

  “I feel as though I’ve gotten to know the admiral during our conversations,” Kol said, jutting her chin out a little. “If she says that she has something important going on, then I trust that to be the truth. She would not lie to me.”

  “How do you know that? How do you know anything like that about this human woman? She’s a politician, a diplomat. How can you trust her?”

  Suddenly Kol laughed, a bright sound. “I’m a politician, and a diplomat. And so are you. Do you mean to say you think we can’t be trusted, either?”

  The Changeling forced himself to chuckle. “I concede your point, Amar,” he said graciously, inclining his head. He knew, of course, what she could not—that Janeway really did have important things that were drawing her away from conversing with the amar of Kerovi. Things like hunting down a Changeling. She had to have been the one to send Paris out after him. At least some good was coming from his being hunted—Janeway was too busy to talk to Kol.

  “Nonetheless,” he continued, “people always make time for what is important to them. I think, perhaps, you may be trusting her a bit much.”

  “It’s not so much a matter of trust, as a matter of fairness. I feel I owe it to the admiral to listen to her and make up my mind then.”

  Then I must certainly hope that you don’t get the chance to listen to her, the Changeling thought. Time to end this.

  “I am going to be in a private conference for the next few days,” he said. “I regret that contact will be infrequent, but I will manage what I can.” He hesitated, then said in a softer voice, as if he was afraid of listening ears, “It is a most delicate stage, Amar. If you understand my meaning.”

  “I believe I do,” she
replied. “I shall wait to hear from you, then. Please come home as soon as possible. I have so much to discuss with you, my old friend.”

  He bowed deeply. “Time with you is an honor and a pleasure. Alamys out.”

  When her image vanished, so did the Changeling’s smile. He adjusted the settings on the holoprogram to another room, similar to the first but with subtle differences. His features, too, adjusted. There were several more impersonations to perform, several more expectations to set. He had no idea how long he’d have to be away from such an elaborate setup, and each of his alter egos needed an explanation as to why they had dropped out of touch.

  This was going to take time he didn’t really have, but there was no alternative. The Changeling liked everything wrapped up neatly.

  At first, as Moset began to explain the procedure they were about to perform, Kaz found himself not listening as attentively as he should. All he could think of was the last time he had seen Vallia, how they had made love with the same urgent desperation they had always made love, living with the knowledge that they led dangerous lives and that any moment one of them might be killed in the line of duty.

  He would not have felt so helpless, so stricken, had Vallia died from a phaser blast. But to know she had ended her life at the hands of this…this…

  Stop it, Jarem thought furiously. I never knew Vallia. I’m sorry for her death, and I agree with you that this Cardassian makes the rest of his people look like innocent children, but I can’t be in this place right now. I have to be alert, listen to what he’s saying, or many more will die.

  “I’m sorry, Moset, could you repeat that last?” he said, flushing a little as he realized he’d missed a large chunk of important information.

  “Of course,” said Moset. “It’s hard for non-Cardassian brains to grasp this sort of thing.”

  Kaz fought down the combined urges from Jarem and Gradak to strangle the arrogant bastard and concentrated on listening.

  He was not a specialist in the field of genetics, and the sort of work Moset had been doing for the last three years was highly unethical and illegal, so he didn’t quite grasp all the intricacies Moset was describing. He did understand enough so that his horror and disgust at the man’s atrocities was mingled with admiration for Moset’s brilliance and imagination. Some of the things he had accomplished were truly amazing, and reluctantly Kaz found himself being drawn into Moset’s realm of passion and enthusiasm for what he was doing.

  Sekaya and Chakotay were listening as well, although Kaz could tell from their faces they grasped even less than he. It was enough, however, for Kaz to see awe, wonder, and fear flit over their faces, especially Sekaya’s lovely, expressive one. Now and then she turned to her brother and regarded him with concern, for he was the one who would be subjected to Moset’s latest experiment. Except this time the experiment would, they all hoped, save them instead of destroy them.

  It was, to Kaz’s surprise, Sekaya who spoke first after Moset had finished the explanation. “I think I know why your previous subjects had so much trouble,” she said.

  Moset looked at her with indulgent fondness, much as a doting owner might regard the antics of a kitten. “Really, my dear? Why is that?”

  Despite the note of condescension in his voice, Sekaya regarded her tormenter evenly, calmly. Kaz felt a sudden rush of renewed pleasure that she was alive and, thus far, well.

  “They had no seklaar,” she said. “No roots, no anchor.”

  Moset looked puzzled, but Chakotay was nodding. “Pray continue, my dear,” the Cardassian invited.

  “You know a great deal about the aliens whose genes you have used on the colonists and on the Changeling,” Sekaya said. “But you don’t know a lot about the Sky Spirits.”

  “I thought they were the same thing,” said Kaz, wondering how confused he really was after all.

  Sekaya turned to him. “Yes, and no. Moset knows about the scientific aspect of the aliens—the abilities of their minds. But forty-five thousand years ago, no one on Earth could even grasp such things. We knew these beings as the Sky Spirits, with the emphasis on spirit.”

  Moset sighed. “I don’t really have time to get into a theological discussion right now, not when—”

  “I’m not talking about theology,” Sekaya said harshly.

  “I’m talking about spirit. The realm of the imagination. That’s all wrapped up in the brain, too. I don’t want to get into a discussion about the reality of our spiritual beliefs. What Chakotay feels, what I feel—that’s our business. But what you’re about to do requires knowledge of the spirit end of things, and you have no grasp of that.”

  “Native peoples used to use psychotropic drugs or extreme physical deprivation in order to achieve an altered mental state,” Chakotay said. “It was in that state that we received visions. Now we use something called an akoonah to access that part of the brain. We call it spiritual; others call it mental.”

  “What you call it doesn’t matter,” Sekaya said. “But, Moset, you have failed to take this into account at all. Have you ever studied my people’s beliefs?”

  “I’m a scientist, not a cultural historian,” Moset replied.

  “Exactly. When we go on vision quests, or as my people call them, spirit walks, we usually don’t journey alone. We meet the spirits of those who have gone before us, or animal spirits who befriend and advise us. We call these beings seklaars. They are the anchors that keep us sane.” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “Maybe they really are separate entities. Maybe they’re just part of our imaginations. I don’t know and right now I don’t care. What I do care about is, you have experimented on these people and done things to them they haven’t been prepared for. They had no idea what they would experience, no way to call on seklaars. No wonder they went mad.”

  “Sekaya,” said Kaz, very gently and very respectfully, “insanity doesn’t turn men into monsters. Not literally, anyway.”

  She looked at him with her large, dark brown eyes and challenged him, “Doesn’t it?”

  Moset was now regarding Chakotay’s sister with a new respect. “You could be on to something there,” he said. “When you’re dealing with mental powers at the level that the Sky Spirits possessed them, it isn’t that hard to alter the physical reality.”

  “ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’ ” Chakotay said. “Shakespeare wasn’t a quantum theorist, but he knew what he was talking about.”

  Sekaya regarded her brother. “I don’t want you to do this,” she said.

  “Sekky, I have to. The Changeling is much more powerful than any of us, even if he can’t shape-shift. The only way I have even a chance of stopping him is to take on the Sky Spirit powers myself. And I can’t handle them unless I’m prepared, unless I undertake a spirit walk.”

  She held his gaze. “Then you aren’t doing it alone.”

  Suddenly Kaz understood. “You’re volunteering to be his seklaar,” he said.

  “Exactly. I’m not letting my brother go on such a dangerous spirit walk all by himself. Chakotay, I’ve been training. Deeply. This is something I know a great deal about. I’ve been the anchor for dozens of spirit walks. Let me do this for you.”

  “It could help,” Moset said. “You’ll need to keep your wits about you if you’re going to be able to do this. If she really can perform this duty, then I say let’s take her up on her offer.”

  “But she’s my sister!” Chakotay protested.

  “And Guillaume is Marius’s brother,” Sekaya responded. “He deserves to have his brother back.”

  As Chakotay hesitated, Moset added, “Time is running out, Chakotay. If we’re to have any hope of success, we need to begin immediately. Ellis’s business—”

  “Quit calling him that,” Chakotay snapped. “I know that’s how you knew him first, but the real Andrew Ellis was a fine Starfleet officer who didn’t deserve to be kidnapped, put in stasis, and cut to pieces with a scalpel.”


  Moset appeared to be slightly taken aback by Chakotay’s outburst, but Kaz understood exactly where the harsh words had originated.

  “How shall I refer to him, then? It’s awkward to just keep saying ‘the Changeling.’ ”

  Chakotay’s eyes met Kaz’s. “Katal,” he said coldly. “We’ll call our enemy Arak Katal.”

  Kaz smiled, slightly. A good choice. The face of a traitor who was responsible for the slaughter of thousands was a better one to hate than that of a Starfleet officer.

  “We’re arguing over semantics, but fine, we’ll call him Katal. But by all means, gentlemen and lady, let’s get on with it.”

  Quickly Sekaya threw her arms around her brother and murmured something. Kaz didn’t catch it and didn’t want to; it was for Chakotay’s ears alone. The captain nodded and held his sister tightly before releasing her. They returned to the beds and lay down.

  Even though he knew that both Chakotay and Sekaya were willing participants, Kaz cringed inwardly as Moset bent over them and physically manipulated the inserts in their skulls. Sekaya hissed and tensed slightly as the Cardassian touched her with curiously gentle fingers, but forced herself to submit to his ministrations.

  Satisfied, Moset looked up. “You’ll be responsible for monitoring them, Doctor.”

  The Butcher of Bajor calmly giving him instructions, like they were colleagues. Kaz swallowed and nodded. Sekaya and Chakotay, and who knew how many others, were depending on the Trill to keep a cool head. He would not let them down.

  Moset took a deep breath. “I know the situation is dire, but…this is so exciting! Now. We’ll begin with Sekaya.” He touched some controls and Sekaya’s eyes closed. Quickly she sank to deep levels of unconsciousness, but Kaz could see that the right side of her cerebrum was highly active.

  “Then Chakotay.” He repeated the procedure, and the captain of the U.S.S. Voyager was soon as deeply unconscious as his sister. Kaz tensed; even now he suspected a trap. But Moset was engrossed in what he was doing.