Pathways - Jeri Taylor [37]
He tried to offer a smile, but it was wooden and off-center. “Thanks” was the best he could offer. She regarded him for a moment and he hoped his silence would induce her to leave, but she stayed put. She placed her hands on his shoulders, kneading the muscles with strong fingers.
“You’re so tense . . . you need to relax,” she said suggestively. Her hands went to his face and she leaned to kiss him. He turned his head.
Stung, she backed off and he rose, facing her. “I’ve been thinking this for a long time,” he said, “so it’s not a sudden decision. It’s not right for us to have an affair.”
Her eyes widened in shock and surprise. “Why not?” she queried, and he heard in her tone the willingness to fight. He held up his hand as though to block any further statement.
“Not while we’re working together like this. It interferes with the work we’re doing.”
“No, it—” She was prepared to debate, but he wasn’t going to get drawn in.
“Don’t. Please.” There was an edge to his voice that she heard, and she subsided. There was a long moment between them, and then she took a breath.
“You’ve been under a lot of stress. I understand. If you need some time off, that’s fine. I just want you to know I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
It seemed easier to accept this than to assure her that wouldn’t happen, so he gave her a curt nod, and thereby kept her hopes alive—a mistake, as he was to learn years later.
As his malaise continued, he desperately wished he could ask his father for advice. What could he do to shake the terrible languor that had beshrouded him?
When he realized the answer, he chided himself for not having realized it immediately. He procured an Akoonah from the people of his planet and prepared to go inward, where his father had told him all answers would lie.
“Akoochimoyah . . . Akoochimoyah . . .” This time he used the ritual chant of his people, and slipped easily into the vision, finding himself almost instantly in the woods of his homeworld once more. He looked around for the snake, eager to tell it of his adventure with its more malignant relative, but the brightly colored serpent wasn’t in evidence. He began walking, searching for the clearing, but the landscape had changed somehow, and he no longer felt he knew just where he was.
Further, the sky had darkened, and a wind began to swirl the leaves and kick up dust. The temperature dropped noticeably, and Chakotay was no longer comfortable. Something was amiss.
He heard footfalls behind him, and turned to peer into the dark woods, but he could see nothing. Then the sounds of steps came from another direction entirely, and he whirled, trying to locate the unseen presence.
Footsteps began sounding from all directions, all around him, getting louder and louder, like rumbling thunder. He turned in circles, fearful, awaiting the appearance of a dread apparition, realizing now that this inner journey was to be his punishment for his anger and disrespect toward his father.
He would accept whatever happened. He deserved whatever the quest might bestow on him.
He closed his eyes, listening to the deafening sounds, feeling the forest floor vibrate with the intensity of the steps of thousands of beings, marching inexorably toward him.
Then there was silence.
He opened his eyes and saw his father standing before him. Chakotay’s knees suddenly buckled and he staggered, sinking onto the damp floor of the forest.
“Hello, Chakotay.” It was indeed his father’s voice, his father’s wise eyes and gentle countenance, his voice which rang with love. Chakotay felt his eyes sting with gratitude for this chance to see him once more.
“Father,” he said in a choked voice, and saw Kolopak smile and put a warm hand on his shoulder.
“You’re surprised, I know. You didn’t expect to see me.”
“I had a spirit guide. I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought.”
“Apparently you need me, as well.”
“How can that be?”
“It could only be if that’s what you want.”
The rush of joy Chakotay felt was so intense he almost lost consciousness. Never