Homecoming - Christie Golden [63]
“She excels at baking, a skill I have yet to acquire. But you are correct. We have been learning from one another.”
“It’s good to see you,” he said honestly. “I’m so pleased to hear you’re doing so well.”
Her smile faltered.
“Not so well?”
She hesitated, then said, “I am glad to be able to talk to you. There is something happening that puzzles me.”
“Go on.”
“Recently I have been experiencing a sensation of—”
In the distance, Chakotay heard noises. He caught a few words uttered in a deep male voice: “Starfleet order ... don’t interfere ... please, ma’am ...” and Irene’s responses: “proper authorization ... wait, you can’t go in there. ...”
Seven’s blond head whipped around and he saw her stiffen, saw her almost physically don the armor that had helped her to “adapt” to life among humans. “Who’s there?”
“Seven, what’s going on?” Chakotay asked, hearing his own voice deepen and adopt the timbre of command.
She rose, not responding, and he could see only her long, slim torso as she turned to face whoever had entered the room. “This is a private home,” she stated. “What is your authorization to enter?”
“Please don’t resist,” came a voice. “We just want you to come in for questioning.”
[188] “Questioning? About what?” Seven’s voice was haughty.
“This is Commander Chakotay. What’s going on?”
A face appeared in front of the screen. For a moment, Chakotay stared into the green eyes of a grim-faced man dressed in Starfleet mustard, gray, and black. Then the screen went dark.
Chakotay swore, something he did not often do, and immediately put in a call to Kathryn. Her face, when it appeared on the screen, was as angry as he had ever seen it.
“So you know,” he said without preamble.
“I do,” she replied grimly. “They can’t hold him for long, though. At least I hope not. I’m trying—”
“Him?” Chakotay exclaimed. “Starfleet just barged into Irene Hansen’s house and arrested Seven of Nine.”
Now it was her turn to stare. “Seven? What the—For the last two days I’ve been pulling every string I can think of to get the Doctor released. He’s been taken in for questioning about this hologram strike. Surely they don’t think Seven was connected with this?”
“I don’t know what they think. I only know they’ve taken her.”
“I’ll get right on it. Where can I contact you?”
“Give me two minutes and I’ll be right there with you—if that’s all right.”
“Better than all right,” she replied promptly. Her face was set in a defiant expression that was quite familiar to him. “I feel sorry for anyone having to deal with the two of us when we’ve got our dander up.”
Despite the direness of the situation, he grinned. The [189] smile faded as her image did, and his thoughts turned to his vision of Black Jaguar.
Her appearance betokened a journey into darkness, a trial both powerful and frightening. Disaster awaited failure, but great good would come about with success.
He wished he’d had another day or two of lying on a sun-warmed rock.
When Sam, Tim, and Andre fell into step beside Icheb, he smiled happily.
“Hey guys, how’s it going?” He was pleased with himself for remembering the casual phrase so often used as a greeting among the cadets. It was one of many things he’d had to learn as part of his adaptation to life as a Starfleet Academy student.
The four of them and Eshe had become almost inseparable. Over the last month they ate out together, studied together, and would have roomed together if they’d been able to. Icheb had never really had any friends to speak of. Naomi came close, but although she was highly intelligent for her age, she was still emotionally much younger than he. Seven was a friend of a sort, but more of a big sister. These were his compatriots and confidants. Finally, he belonged.
With Eshe, the relationship was starting to become more than friendship. Only the day before yesterday, when they said good night after an evening of studying, she had reached up to him, stroked