Spirit Walk_ Enemy of My Enemy (Book 2) - Christie Golden [7]
At any other time the Changeling would have been annoyed. But it didn’t matter if Chakotay was to worm anything out of the scientist. As the Cardassian had said, he’d never be able to make any use of the information. Let Chakotay chat Moset up as much as he liked. He might inadvertently reveal something useful.
The conversation stopped as he entered, and Chakotay turned his full attention on the being who had masqueraded as an old friend and a new first officer.
He was glad; he wanted Chakotay to see this. Maybe it would shake him up a bit.
The Changeling wearing Andrew Ellis’s face stepped next to the original encased in the stasis chamber. He locked gazes with Chakotay and smiled a little.
“I don’t know that we’ll have a chance to talk again, but I’m sure Dr. Moset will fill you in.”
Before the horrified gazes of Chakotay and Sekaya, the Changeling’s features bled and rearranged themselves. His skin went darker than Ellis’s pale European-descended complexion; his eyes went from blue to brown. His hair changed from blond and thinning to black and short, and then finally, teasingly, the Changeling created a green pattern of lines on his temple.
Chakotay stared at himself.
The Changeling reached out to him, and Chakotay tensed. But all the Changeling wanted was Chakotay’s combadge, which he fastened to his uniform with a slight wince. “So long, Chakotay,” said the Changeling. He tapped a button, and he and the real Ellis disappeared.
Chapter 3
LIEUTENANT COMMANDER TOM PARIS FELT as if his brain had turned to oatmeal after his first set of briefings from Admiral Janeway and Commander Tuvok.
“Wow,” he finally managed after they’d finished. “I think it would be easier for me to recite the entire contents of the Royal Protocol document.” He paused. “Backward.”
Janeway smiled and reached to squeeze his hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to remember everything, just to be a bit familiar with it. Here’s a padd with all the information. You can peruse it at your leisure during the rest of the trip.”
Paris glanced with longing up toward the bow of the little vessel, where the stoic Vulcan sat at the Delta Flyer’s controls. “I’d rather be piloting.”
“Of course you would,” said Janeway, “and I’d rather be sitting where Captain Chakotay is now. But we must all make sacrifices, Tom.”
Paris looked at her then. “Permission to speak freely, Admiral?”
“Of course.”
“Do you miss it that much? Being a captain?”
Truth be told, he expected a quick, pat answer along the lines of “I serve at the pleasure of the Federation” or something like that. But she took his inquiry seriously, leaning back in the seat and regarding him thoughtfully.
“Actually, no,” she replied. “I did at first, a great deal. But now I wonder if that was because I had to be captain for so long. Even on shore leave, over the last seven years I really never left the captain’s chair. It was such an unusual situation that being captain became more in-grained in my self-identity than I think it would have otherwise. I like to consider myself well rounded, Tom. I like to think that if I hadn’t been a starship captain, I still would have contributed to making my world—my quadrant, my galaxy—better, no matter what I chose to do with my life.”
A little humbled by her honesty, Paris replied, gently, “I’m certain you would have.”
She smiled and nodded, accepting the words. “But this is the path I chose, and it led to a very interesting seven years. So yes, when we made it home, it was a little hard to let that go. Especially considering the circumstances surrounding our return.”
Paris couldn’t help but grimace. That had been a bad, bad time.
“But once the dust settled, and I was able to move forward, I realized that I still have a lot to contribute to Starfleet and the Federation. I’m enjoying what I’m doing…and enjoying being able to pull some strings now and then to see that the right people get the right sort of opportunities.