Dark Matters_ Cloak and Dagger (Book 1) - Christie Golden [64]
"Your wrists are sprained," said the Doctor, running his tricorder over her hands.
"I'll take sprained wrists in exchange for an intact body any day," his captain replied. "No, don't We don't have time," she said as the Doctor fished around in his pack for his instruments. "If we get the Shepherds on our side, we'll have plenty of time to
treat any minor injuries. And if we don't, it won't matter. Everyone else all right?"
They nodded, concern for her plain on their faces. Chakotay wished his didn't reveal so much. His abdomen burned, and he realized his uniform was torn and bloody. He had barely noticed the pain in his concern for his captain. Now it rushed over him and as he touched his belly, it was hard not to wince. But if Janeway wasn't willing to take the time to treat her painful wrists, he could let his abraded abdomen go for the tune being as well.
Janeway nodded, then briskly rose to her feet.
The rest of the way was still difficult, but there were no more sheer walls. No one said anything, but Chakotay imagined they were all as relieved as he was. There weren't enough pitons left to scale any more cliff faces, and they had just had it made very plain that the remaining pitons could not be trusted.
He winced a little as Janeway, thinking herself unobserved, removed her climbing gloves and hissed softly with pain. Her hands were white, save for the angry red bands around her wrists. Chakotay could even make out the marks of his individual fingers. He regretted having to hang on so hard, but Janeway had been right The sprains would heal. A smashed body, broken on the rocks, would not
He suppressed a shudder and turned away from the image. "Any change in the signal?" he asked Telek, trying to focus on something else.
Telek looked up at him, annoyed. "I said I would
notify the captain if there was any change. There has not been."
A sudden swell of anger rose in Chakotay and he had an almost overwhelming urge to beat the smug Romulan's face into a green, bloody pulp. He quelled it, but the struggle with his own emotions made sweat break out on his dark face.
This was his burden to bear, he had realized that early on. Even before his encounter with Coyote, with the dark, slippery, Trickster part of his innermost self, he had known. This was how the dark matter growing inside his body was affecting him. It was awful, mis loss of control, as if his own mind was a panther he commanded by sheer brute will, a dangerous creature that could, at any moment, slip from that tenuous control to spring on Ms companions, his friends, as Coyote had sprung on him. Chakotay was willing to fight, willing to die or even kill, for a worthy cause.
Anger was not such a cause.
They pressed on in grim silence. The temperature was falling, and the wind now had a voice, howling from time to time. The skies were black, and even the sun's light was beginning to dim. The smoke belched forth by the volcanoes was doing a good job of providing a black curtain. The red rocks were dusted with snow and soot, turning slick and treacherous beneath their booted feet. The snow grew deeper, and finally they found themselves slogging through half-meter-deep drifts. Breathing became harder, the air thinner.
Chakotay ran a tricorder over the snow. There was nothing harmful in it. In fact, there was almost nothing in it at all-no microscopic organisms, nothing. Other than the ash that dusted the tops of the drifts, it was pure water.
"No need to watch the water supply any more," he said to Janeway, who had come to stand beside him. "The snow is perfectly safe."
She didn't answer, merely knelt and began to scoop white snow into the open mouth of her water bottle. Everyone else did the same.
"Food is going to be another matter," said Chakotay. "We're burning a lot of calories, more than we expected. Since the transporter isn't working properly, we