Pathways - Jeri Taylor [246]
Kathryn’s face, swimming in the mists . . .
They had fallen endlessly, down and down, impossibly far, forever, and still they plummeted. Chakotay felt a curious peace settle over him, a willingness to fall like this until eternity, glorying in the rapturous plunge.
And then a vision came to him.
It was Voyager, rising from the mists of the gorge, ascending toward them like a roc.
Chakotay realized he must be dead already, that this wondrous vision was nothing more than the last dying electrolytes of his brain, flickering with familiar images before they faded into the dark oblivion of death.
And then he felt himself dematerializing.
* * *
“I was reasonably sure Seven would recognize the homing signal,” said Kathryn. “But I didn’t know if you’d understand that you had to jump.”
“I don’t know that I did understand it. It was a sensation, an instinct. That’s all.”
“The only place on that planet I felt I could conceal Voyager was in the mists of that waterfall. It was almost three kilometers long, and produced enough energy to disrupt their sensors.”
They were in her quarters, relaxing over the best meal Chakotay had had in days, and had even splurged by replicating a bottle of wine. A powerful sense of well-being suffused him, abetted by the food, the drink, and the presence of Kathryn, who looked particularly lovely this evening.
“How’s Harry’s foot?”
“The doctor said it was badly mangled, and it might take a number of osteogenic treatments, but it should eventually be almost as good as new.”
Chakotay nodded, and the image of Harry standing upright in the underground chamber, in agony but steadfastly carrying out his duty, came to him. He was silent, remembering the sacrifices every member of that group had made, their courage, their resourcefulness, their unflagging willingness to make that final plunge with him, the ultimate leap of faith.
He felt a soft hand on his and realized Kathryn had taken hold of him and was looking into his eyes with concern. “What is it?” she asked softly.
He hesitated. How could he tell her? How could he communicate what had happened to them in the course of that extraordinary adventure, describe the immensity of feeling that had come of their imprisonment and escape?
Maybe he couldn’t. He felt incapable of re-creating the closeness, the intimacy they had all shared. Maybe it was an experience that would have to remain private, to be remembered and abreacted only among those who had lived it.
“I was thinking,” he said carefully, “about that blue robe you had on when you visited the camp. Where’d it come from?”
“From people called the Murr. They’re wealthy traders who do business with the Subu.”
“I’d give a month of replicator rations to see you in it again.”
Her mouth turned in a slight smile. “I think that could be arranged,” she said.
They sat like that for a while, easily silent, hands joined, looking out at the sweep of the warp stars.
In a few moments he realized that of course he must tell her everything, must communicate every moment, every nuance of the experience, must make her feel as though she had been there, too. Because if she weren’t a part of it, he would be somehow incomplete.
The touch of her hand was warm. He could feel the beat of her pulse in her wrist, and it seemed to him that his heart must be beating in rhythm with hers. The stars streaked by, breathtaking ribbons of white, defiant, transcendent, an ecstasy of light, and he gazed at them, mind quieted by their hypnotic power.
Presently, he began to speak.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15