Dark Matters_ Ghost Dance (Book 2) - Christie Golden [29]
Nothing. The ships just kept coming closer.
And then they powered their weapons.
THE DESERT SUN WAS BRIGHT AND HOT, AND BURNED
him. The sand was bright and hot, and burned him. Chakotay was bright and hot, and burned inside and outside, and even his eyeballs seemed to sizzle in their sockets as he tried to look around.
He wore no uniform. In fact, he wore nothing. The hot sun beating down on his exposed flesh would, he somehow knew, crisp it in moments. His first thought was of Tom, and that pale, Anglo-Saxon white skin that went with blond hair and blue eyes, and what the bright, hot, burning sun would do to it.
"Don't worry about Tommy," said the voice. Q's voice. The voice of a Trickster par excellence. "You should be worried about yourself."
"Coyote," said Chakotay. He recalled being aboard Voyager when the dark matter had not yet been purged. He had utilized the akoonah and gone deep within his subconscious in a quest for guidance. His usual animal guide had not appeared. Instead, he had faced off with Coyote, an incarnation-perhaps the ultimate incarnation, he mused- of the classic Trickster deity. It had spoken with the voice of the omnipotent alien Q, and it was using that same taunting voice now.
"The one and only," said Coyote, trotting over a sand dune, rising on his hind legs, and executing a bow. "Or should I say, one of many?"
"The last thing I remember was trying to climb a ladder out of the pit." It had been like exiting a kiva, he had thought at the time. Except kivas weren't places of torture. He recalled putting his left foot on a rung, then the right-then nothing at all.
"Out of the frying pan, into the fire," quipped Coyote, citing a proverb that was nearly as old as the stars. He trotted down the dune, miraculously not disturbing a grain of the bright, hot, burning sand.
"What do you mean?" asked Chakotay, a desperate tinge to his voice, even though he knew that getting anything resembling a straight answer out of the infuriating creature was well-nigh impossible.
"Do I say what I mean, or mean what I say?"
"Alice in Wonderland," said Chakotay at once, though it had been decades since he'd read the children's book.
"Welcome to the rabbit hole," said Coyote, and he vanished.
When Chakotay opened his eyes a few seconds later, it was not at all bright, or hot, or burning, though his body still was righting a fever. He lay on his back in a small thatched hut. He was covered with a blanket of some soft, woven material. The pile of-hay? ferns?-beneath him was soft and comfortable. It emitted a cool, soothing scent as he stirred. Over his head herbs hung drying from every inch of the roof. He tried to move his head and look around, but the gesture brought sudden pain and he hissed.
"You mustn't move, Chakotay," said a soft female voice. A hand moved into his vision, a hand holding a cloth that dripped cool water onto his face. Chakotay closed his eyes and enjoyed the unbearably sweet sensation of a moist cloth wiping his fevered face. A drop trickled to his lips. Automatically, he licked it and savored the taste of cool water and herbs.
"You stood for hours with your face turned up to the sky," the feminine voice continued. "Your neck is still stiff and sore."
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice a rasp. "Who are you? Is Tom-"
'Tom is recovering, as are you," came the answer. He couldn't stand it; he turned his head and beheld she who tended him. The pain he suffered with the action was worth it. She was lovely, a vision come to life. Her full lips curled in a smile.
"I see your curiosity outweighs the pain," she said. "I am Yurula. I am mate to Soliss. He is presently out gathering more herbs for a soup for you. He predicted you would awaken soon."
"I thank you for your care of us," he said. The pain in his head was agonizing. It was hot, so hot.
"Rest again,"