Spirit Walk, Book One Read online

  His eyes widened as the words left his mouth. He couldn’t believe what he had just said. This was more than a heated discussion. This could get him slapped down so hard for insubordination—

  Campbell stared at him, her blue eyes bright, her face crimson.

  “Lieutenant Campbell, I’m—”

  She rose, taking her tray. “Excuse me.”

  David watched her go, mentally kicking himself. He drew a deep breath and for the first time noticed that he was being watched. Some of the faces turned to him were angry or hurt. But other faces—those of the cute young red-haired woman and the rangy fellow, for instance—had slight smiles on them, and he received more than a few subtle nods of approval.

  He had completely lost his appetite. Chittenden returned the remains of his uneaten meal to the replicator. Part of him wanted to seek Campbell out and make sure she heard his full apology. But another part of him thought that although his words had certainly been inappropriate, the sentiment wasn’t.

  Voyager had nothing—nothing—on the torment those in the Alpha Quadrant had undergone in its absence. The lives that had been lost on this ship over the last seven years were a drop in the bucket compared to what those who had stayed behind had endured.

  No, Chittenden decided as he headed back to engineering. He wouldn’t apologize.

  After all, he was right.

  Lyssa Campbell was grateful she was alone in the turbolift as she headed back to the bridge. Her solitude gave her space to fume uninterrupted.

  How dare that upstart puppy imply that those who served on Voyager were somehow “less Starfleet” than those who’d been in the Alpha Quadrant! This was his first time on a starship, for crying out loud. What did he know about it? What did he know about anything?

  She thought back to the awful moment when she awoke in the transporter room alone, blood clotting in her hair, right after the Caretaker had abducted—there was no other word for it—Voyager. Learning that so many of her friends had been killed in an instant. Hearing the news that Janeway had deliberately destroyed the ship’s one chance of getting home. The pain of that had been dreadful, but as time passed, Campbell found herself glad that Janeway had made that choice. She’d gotten to know Kes, the Ocampa, and the thought of that sweet girl being the last one of her species alive because of something Voyager had done…No. Such a thing was unthinkable. Janeway had made the right decision.

  As the deck levels sped by, Lyssa thought of the friends she’d lost since then. Their faces crowded in her mind. There were so many—too many.

  How dare David Chittenden say he’d suffered more.

  She blew out a breath, stirring her blond hair, as the anger ebbed. Everyone had suffered, whether they were in the Alpha Quadrant or the Delta Quadrant. It was stupid to play this “we hurt worse than you did” game, but she knew that she and Chittenden were not the only ones playing it.

  The war was over. Voyager had made it home. It was time to move on.

  If only everyone agreed.

  Campbell had to smile to herself as she realized that the only reason David Chittenden was getting to her so badly was because she liked him, and if she was any judge of men, he liked her too. Perhaps it was just as well they’d gotten off to so lousy a start. Shipboard romances were not usually a good thing.

  Somewhat calmer, she returned to her station. No one had manned ops while she was on her lunch break; Harry was there and could have stepped in if anything had happened. No one knew ops better than Harry. Chakotay sat in his command chair, scrutinizing the computer. He glanced up as she entered.

  “How was lunch?” he asked politely.

  “Fine, sir, thank you.”

  “You’re back early. You can take your full break if you’d like, Lieutenant.” He indicated the image on the screen of stars streaking past. “It’s not as if we’re on red alert.”

  “Thank you, sir, I prefer to be at my station.”

  Chakotay smiled at her, but his eyes searched hers for a moment. She colored slightly under his scrutiny.

  “As you wish, Lieutenant. Can’t say I’m not happy to have you here. Mr. Kim, you have the bridge, I’ll be in my ready room,” he said.

  Kim moved down toward the captain’s chair. Lyssa deftly touched a few buttons at ops and frowned slightly. She looked around; Kim was the highest ranking officer present, and they were old friends. She didn’t like to reveal her ignorance, but she trusted him.

  “Harry—excuse me, Lieutenant Kim?”

  “Yes?” He looked over at her.

  “Anything happen while I was gone?”

  “Nope. All quiet. Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “It’s just…well, never mind.”

  Kim smiled. “Bet it’s a ghost.”

  “A what?”

  “A ghost. Something that’s not really there. That happens a lot after a ship’s undergone extensive work. You’ll see something that looks out of the ordinary, and then when you try to check it, poof, it’s gone.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what’s happening,” Campbell said, relieved.

  Kim shook his head. “They really did a job on Voyager. They’d pretty well gutted her when we came aboard a few months ago.”

  “Plus they removed all your futuristic technology,” said Tare, from the conn.

  “Yeah, more’s the pity,” Kim said. The door to the bridge hissed and Ellis stepped out of the turbolift. Instantly, everyone tensed and returned their attention to their jobs. The lighthearted banter evaporated like water on a hot day. Kim quickly yielded his chair and returned to his station.

  Lyssa stifled a sigh. She hoped Priggy would learn to loosen up. And, she thought, she hoped the rather priggy David Chittenden would too.

  Chapter

  8

  CHAKOTAY NOW HAD a goal: to get the crew comfortable with him and with one another, at least somewhat, by the time they completed their mission. He’d take it section by section, dropping in, learning names and faces, and doing whatever he could to put his crew at ease. His first stop was engineering.

  It was strange not to see—or hear—B’Elanna, he thought as he stepped off the turbolift. He missed his old friend, but knew that Vorik was a more than adequate successor. Vorik was finishing up a conversation with someone when Chakotay stepped behind his chief engineer and cleared his throat.

  “Captain,” said Vorik, turning smoothly, “what a surprise.” He did not look surprised. Chakotay wondered if he ever did. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I’d like to see your crew, see how you’re doing. And I wanted to stretch my legs.” From Vorik’s expression, this was clearly not an adequate explanation, but then again, Chakotay was the captain. He didn’t have to give adequate explanations.

  “How is Voyager operating with its recent adjustments?” Chakotay asked.

  Vorik’s slanted eyebrows drew together in the closest approximation of resentment and disapproval Chakotay had ever seen him display.

  “It was illogical to remove the technology,” he said. B’Elanna had shared Vorik’s sentiments, and Chakotay wished she could see the look on Vorik’s face right now. The two chief engineers had more in common than he’d thought.

  “For what it’s worth, I agree with you,” Chakotay said. “But neither of us is part of Starfleet Command.”

  When Voyager had returned home, the well-traveled ship had been the focus of intensive study. Sporting Borg modifications as well as technology from a future Starfleet, she had been gutted, stripped, and analyzed. All the “extraneous technology,” as the stiff-faced admiral who authorized their removal referred to Voyager’s additions, had been confiscated. Voyager was now nothing more—and, Chakotay mentally amended, nothing less—than a standard Intrepid-class starship.

  The reason given for this was twofold and contradictory: Starfleet needed to study the modifications, and Starfleet needed to remove the modifications so as not to pollute the timeline.

  It was, as Vorik ha
d said, illogical. But it was not unexpected.

  “As painful as this may sound to a chief engineer,” said Chakotay, “a ship is more than its technological components. Voyager was special because of her crew, and what we underwent together. Now that there’s a different crew, she’ll still be special and unique, but in a new way.”

  “It would have assisted this special and unique crew if the ship had been permitted to keep its special and unique technology,” Vorik replied.

  “Vorik,” Chakotay said, grinning, “if you don’t watch out, you’ll develop a sense of humor one of these days.”

  Vorik looked slightly taken aback. “I sincerely hope not, sir.”

  Unable to help himself, Chakotay clapped him on the shoulder. He could have sworn Vorik winced.

  “Come on. Introduce me to your staff.”

  Vorik obliged. Most of them were former Voyagers, so it was more a matter of getting reacquainted rather than introduced, but there was one newcomer.

  “Ensign David Chittenden,” the young man said, standing stiffly at attention.

  “Oh, the whiz kid,” said Chakotay. Chittenden cringed, almost imperceptibly. “Vorik mentioned you. We’re lucky to have you. Welcome aboard Voyager. This is your first assignment on a starship, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Chittenden. He didn’t meet Chakotay’s eyes and looked a bit uncomfortable. Chakotay wondered why. He thought of himself as a pretty good judge of people, and Chittenden’s demeanor struck him as more than rookie nerves. Chittenden’s résumé was outstanding, and Chakotay knew all the engineering staff to be friendly and approachable people. Why, then, did they all seem to be standing somewhat apart from the newcomer? Bad blood already? He hoped not.

  “You’re in good hands,” Chakotay said kindly. “I’m sure your fellow engineers are doing everything they can to make you feel welcome.”

  He eyed them meaningfully. Whatever had happened between Chittenden and the other engineers, he wanted them all to get over it.

  “Of course, sir,” said Chittenden. “It’s a privilege to serve.”

  Chakotay wondered if he really meant it.

  Voyager had one stop before it could head to its final destination, Deep Space 6. There was someone else who needed to be included in the mission. Janeway had described the person as a “spiritual adviser,” someone who could work with Astall in helping the colonists adjust to resettling in a place they had left under such unhappy circumstances. Despite his own spiritual nature, Chakotay had questioned the need for this adviser.

  “Surely whatever the colonists personally believe, there’s someone in their group who would be better able to assist them than a stranger,” he had said one evening over coffee at Janeway’s apartment.

  “The colonists with that kind of training chose to stay behind on Loran II,” his friend and former captain had replied. “They asked for someone like this, someone who could empathize with them in a more spiritual capacity than a counselor might. This is an important mission, Chakotay. Starfleet wants to make sure the colonists feel that their every need has been met.”

  Chakotay had been unable to get a name from Janeway; she said that Starfleet hadn’t decided yet. It would depend on who was available.

  So it was with mild curiosity that Chakotay was in the transporter room when the so-called spiritual adviser beamed up. Ensign Thomas Stefaniak, who had taken over Lyssa Campbell’s position as transporter operator, manipulated the controls and the adviser materialized on the platform.

  Chakotay’s jaw dropped.

  “Surprise!” his baby sister said, her eyes bright and her grin threatening to split her face.

  He caught her up in a big hug. “Sekky! That cunning Kathryn,” he said when he released her. “You and she had this planned all along, didn’t you?”

  “Yep,” Sekaya confessed smugly, looking completely unashamed. Grinning, Chakotay shook his head, taking it all in. He was aware of Stefaniak trying and failing to stifle his curiosity.

  Chuckling, Chakotay said, “Ensign Stefaniak, this is my sister Sekaya. Apparently she’s going to be a spiritual adviser to the colonists.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Stefaniak replied, smiling. “Welcome aboard Voyager.”

  “Delighted to be here,” Sekaya replied. “So, how’s my big brother doing as captain? Has he gotten you all into any trouble yet?”

  “You don’t have to answer that, Stefaniak,” Chakotay said quickly.

  “Thank you, sir,” Stefaniak replied, looking vastly relieved.

  “Come on, Sekky. I’ll show you to your quarters.” They left the transporter room and headed for the turbolift. “Why didn’t you tell me anything about this when I visited a few months ago?”

  Sekaya was still chuckling at Chakotay’s surprise as she replied, “My shamanic training wasn’t finished, and I wasn’t sure if it really was something I wanted to do. Besides, you had only just gotten home. We didn’t want to drop everything on you at once. And then right after your visit, well, you suddenly got very busy saving the Federation. Again.”

  He grinned and ruffled her hair. “It’s really good to see you,” he said sincerely.

  “You too, brother.”

  Sekaya was a gorgeous woman, tall, slim but curvaceous, with bright, intelligent eyes. The two were often mistaken for twins. They were only a year apart in age and resembled one another a great deal. There had been a deep and easy fondness between them while they were growing up, and Chakotay often wondered if his “contrary” nature, which had caused him to be the first person of Dorvan V to permanently leave the planet, had influenced Sekaya. While he was gone, after their father’s death, she, too, had chosen to leave their home. That much he knew. What he hadn’t known was why she had left.

  “So tell me about this spiritual adviser position. Are you part of Starfleet?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered swiftly. “I’ve kind of created this position for myself. After you ran away and joined Starfleet,” she said teasingly, “I started thinking about my own role on Dorvan V. I ended up assisting the shamans and getting my training from them, but I felt a strong need to take that knowledge elsewhere. Take it out to a wider circle.”

  “You contrary, you.”

  “Hey, that’s your title,” she joked back. Sobering a bit, she continued. “I felt that what I had learned needed to be shared, that there were others who were hungry for this. So, with the shamans’ permission, I left and started training in other paths as well.”

  Chakotay was a bit startled at the revelation that his people’s shamans were so forward-thinking.

  “They approved of your sharing their secrets?”

  “Not all of our secrets, no, of course not. But some things, yes. And many of them agreed with me that while it was important to keep our traditions alive and well within our tribes, it was time for someone to go out and share the richness of our path.”

  Chakotay looked at her with new respect. “Very good, Sekky. I’m proud of you.”

  She smiled, then said, “Not to be rude, but can you keep the nickname between us? I’m all grown up now, in case you hadn’t noticed, and I prefer to be called Sekaya.”

  It was a mild rebuke, but a rebuke just the same, and Chakotay was surprised by how much it stung. For the first time, he was made sharply aware of the years that had passed between them, and just how far apart they had grown. The thought saddened him, but Chakotay supposed such things were inevitable.

  “Of course, Sekaya.”

  Then she grinned, slipped an arm around his waist, and hugged him.

  “But I hope I’ll always be Sekky to you.”

  After they had gotten her settled in her quarters, Chakotay took Sekaya on a tour of the ship.

  Her first visit was to Counselor Astall, with whom she would be working closely on the mission. Upon being introduced, Astall made a happy sound and enveloped her “sister” in a bone-crushing hug. For the briefest instant Sekaya tensed, then she surrendered to the emb
race, contentment stealing across her lovely features.

  “I’ve always wanted to meet a Huanni,” she said as they parted. “I have so much respect for the approach you bring to traditional therapy.”

  Astall ducked her head, pleased and slightly embarrassed by the words.

  “We help heal by listening,” she said. “It’s surprisingly simple. While it comes naturally to our species, others seem to have a harder time of it. When we combine this deep listening with more traditional therapy, recovery time is greatly speeded up.”

  Chakotay frowned. He knew all this, of course, but for some reason the way Astall phrased it reminded him of something. He couldn’t quite grasp it, and shrugged it off. It would come to him eventually.

  Next, she met Kaz, who seemed utterly captivated by her, and then Fortier, who actually bent and kissed her hand. Colonist or no, his Gallic chivalry was intact. Chakotay thought wryly that the male colonists might spend more time in “counseling” with the beautiful Sekaya than with Astall.

  When he took her up to the bridge, Sekaya greeted everyone with equal warmth, from the newcomer Tare to Kim to Ellis. Ellis shook her hand and glanced from her face to Chakotay’s in mild surprise.

  “You have the exact same features,” he said, then added, “Although they look much better on you, ma’am.”

  Chakotay raised an eyebrow as Ellis met his eyes. It wasn’t hard to read their expression. Ellis was doing his best to “loosen up,” as Chakotay had suggested, and was clearly hoping he had not overstepped. Chakotay gave him an easy grin and a clap on the shoulder, and Ellis relaxed visibly. It was a good start.

  In his quarters, Chakotay replicated some traditional foods grown on Dorvan V, and the two siblings had a feast. He deliberately kept the conversation light as he sensed Sekaya was holding something back.

  Over coffee and dessert, a decadent chocolate cheesecake, Chakotay decided it was time to probe a bit further.