Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [11]
“Welcome, Lieutenant Patel,” Chakotay said warmly. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“As, of course, does yours, Captain,” she replied. Her hand was tiny in his grasp, but firm, and her eyes were bright and intelligent. With her short-cropped black hair, she looked almost Vulcan.
He turned at last to greet his counselor. Chakotay, like many humans, found the Huanni very pleasant to look at. Their females were usually as tall as a typical human man, the males even taller, but very slender, and they moved in a graceful manner. The word “willowy” came to mind. Their skin was pale purple, their hair a deeper shade of that color, and they had ears that resembled a kangaroo’s. It used to be that you could tell the emotions of a Huanni simply by the ear position, but that wasn’t true any longer. Over time, they’d developed what he’d heard them call “Federation ears,” and now kept their telltale appendages in a neutral position unless they were extremely agitated.
Astall stood properly at attention, her “Federation ears” in place, but her eyes were shining and her mouth curved up just a bit too much for a formal situation. Chakotay had no doubt that if they had been alone, the counselor would have given him an enormous hug. But she didn’t do so here. Instead, she extended a long-fingered hand.
“Lieutenant Astall,” he said warmly. “I was so pleased to hear you’d been assigned to Voyager. We’re extremely lucky to have you.”
Her large eyes twinkled, but her voice was calm. “Thank you, Captain. I am looking forward to serving.”
Chakotay turned to the next person in line. “Lieutenant Campbell,” he said to the attractive blond woman standing next to the Huanni. “How very good to see you again.”
Lyssa Campbell smiled, and her eyes sparkled. “Likewise, sir. I’m looking forward to being a member of your bridge crew.”
“Much better than being stuck down alone in the transporter room, I’d think,” Chakotay replied, and Lyssa’s normally porcelain cheeks colored. A vivacious woman who thrived in the company of others, she’d been notorious for complaining about how isolating a job being the transporter chief had been.
“Well, sir,” she said gamely, “the company will be a lot better.”
Chakotay continued to move down the receiving line, greeting crew members both old and new. At last, he had spoken to them all. He wished it were possible for him to meet every single crew member on his ship. During his seven years on Voyager, he had come to know everyone very well indeed. It was strange, having to maintain a distance now. He hoped that he could emulate his former captain and adopt Janeway’s combination of formality and intimacy with his own crew.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I can’t imagine a finer crew. Let’s get to work, shall we?”
He shared the turbolift ride to the bridge with Kim and Campbell. A year ago, the three of them would have chatted easily on the brief trip. But this time, no one talked. No one was quite sure of his or her role yet, and there was a stiffness, an awkwardness, that Chakotay didn’t like and that he hoped would go away soon.
He was very conscious that he was stepping onto a bridge he knew so well as its captain for the first time. He found he had to stop in midstride and deliberately make his way to the captain’s chair instead of his “usual” seat to Janeway’s left. Once seated in a chair that he had always associated with one of Starfleet’s finest, he looked around, taking in all the changes: the dark-haired woman at the conn instead of the fair-haired man, the slender blonde at ops instead of Harry Kim, Kim himself at Tuvok’s old station. A first officer sitting beside him instead of a captain. He trailed his fingers along the back of his chair.
Change is the only certainty, he thought.
He settled himself into his chair, aware that everyone was waiting for him, and spoke his first order as captain.
“Voyager to McKinley Station operations. Request permission for departure.”
“This is station operations. You are cleared to depart, Voyager.”
“Clear all moorings.”
“All moorings are clear, sir.”