Spirit Walk_ Enemy of My Enemy (Book 2) - Christie Golden [13]
The door hissed closed behind him. For a moment Kaz stared at the door, then turned his attention back toward the patients.
“Hell of a first mission,” Kaylar said bitterly.
Kaz nodded, slightly distracted. Gradak was stirring again, now that the emergency had passed. They shared emotions: shock at the senseless deaths mingling with anger. For Kaz, the dead were only slightly known, but for Gradak—
A wave of deep agony, of profound loss, washed over him and almost made him stumble.
“Stop it,” he hissed, under his breath.
Kim looked at him. “Doctor?”
“Nothing,” Kaz lied quickly, “this medical tricorder could use some readjusting.” He retrieved another one to continue the pretense, although he knew there was nothing wrong with the first.
The silence was uncomfortable and heavy with sorrow. Kaz quickly treated Kim, Kaylar, and Niemann, all of whom had only minor injuries.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” said Kim. “It got me from behind.”
“Us, too,” said Niemann, and Kaylar nodded.
“Some kind of large predator, certainly,” Kaz ventured. “With nice long, sharp claws.” He looked at them. “You are all cleared to resume your duties.” He wanted them out of here. He didn’t want to risk them seeing what Astall had walked in on.
“How’s Patel?” Kaylar asked, walking to the smaller woman’s side and looking down at her with concern.
“I expect a full recovery in a day or two. She lost a lot of blood, and there are some internal injuries, but she’ll be just fine.”
The relief on all their faces was painfully obvious. They’d just lost two colleagues; they didn’t want to lose another one.
“I suggest you return to your stations,” Kaz said, trying to hurry them along. “Captain Chakotay will need everyone ready and alert.”
“You’re right, Doctor,” Kim said. He gestured to the others. “Let’s go, guys. You did a good job down there today.”
Kaylar and Niemann exchanged glances. It was clear they disagreed with their superior, but neither said so.
Kaz exhaled and closed his eyes when the door hissed closed behind them. He wiped his forehead, feeling the skin warm and wet on his fingers.
The mission had taken a disastrous and tragic turn, and a previous host was all but taking up permanent residence inside his mind. He was more than ready for this to all be over.
Chapter 5
B’ELANNA TORRES HAD KNOWN she’d miss her husband when he left, but she hadn’t anticipated missing him quite so much.
Without his jovial presence, she was forced to realize just how un-Klingon she really was. They’d banded together, the outsiders stubbornly insisting on staying in the monastery and perusing the scrolls, but now that he was gone, there was no one to share a joke with, no one to turn to when the whole Klingon thing just got old.
It wasn’t that Tom had been a big help in transcribing the documents; he’d only just figured out how to write with the bone stylus, and Torres had picked it up after a couple of attempts. And, she had to admit, she was actually glad she didn’t have to read everything she found aloud to him.
But she missed him, missed his warm, comforting, occasionally irritating presence. She missed having another pair of hands to hold their daughter and comfort her when the little girl squalled. She missed the physical expression of their love, passionate and sweet despite having to be performed on an animal hide on a cold stone floor.
More than anything else, she missed having someone to share her increasing suspicion that their daughter might, indeed, be the Kuvah’Magh.
The Scrolls of Ghargh, as Torres had discovered they were called, hadn’t been touched by hands in decades, perhaps centuries. Perhaps Kohlar’s ancestors, who had left this quadrant so long ago, had been the last ones to see them. They were certainly dusty enough.
She had had to specially request them, and Gura and Lakuur had made much of the fact that the mongrel was wasting their time. Although, since they