Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [13]
“Certainly,” agreed Fortier. “But before I begin, let me say that I’ve done my reading about you as well. I am grateful that we are in the hands of someone who personally understands our situation.”
Chakotay inclined his head. “Our histories have many similarities, but your situation is unique to you. That’s what I’m interested in hearing about.”
Fortier’s full lips curved in a tentative smile. Chakotay felt himself warming to the man. He seemed so eager for someone to understand him and his people.
“Very well, then. Before the war, we were happily ensconced on Loran II,” he began. “The colony was entering its fifteenth year. Many children knew it as their only home. It was a bountiful planet and we had all we needed. We maintained contact with the Federation, of course, and from time to time Starfleet vessels would come to repair damaged equipment or replenish certain supplies.”
“How was your relationship with these people?”
“Good enough. We never thought of ourselves as escaping from the Federation and its tenets, merely as expanding them. It was always good to see new faces, and we were happy to provide them with a pleasant place for shore leave.” His eyes grew sad. “One hates to romanticize the past, but I must tell you, Captain, I don’t exaggerate when I tell you it was an idyllic life.”
Chakotay thought back to his recent visit to Dorvan V, when he and his sister Sekaya rediscovered their youth and swam and sunned on rocks. He thought of the feasts, of the celebrations and rituals, of the deeply contented looks on his parents’ faces for most of their lives. He had been the contrary, the one who had been driven to look elsewhere for his destiny, but he knew that for most of the people on Dorvan V, their existence had been idyllic too.
“I understand,” he said, which was not the same thing as agreeing.
Fortier continued.
“The only trouble we had known came in the form of the Federation-Cardassian treaty of 2370. Our world, like yours, was one of those ceded to the Cardassians as part of the price of keeping the peace. Many of us, myself included, did not want to go back to Earth. We had grown to think of Loran II as our home. Most of us were persuaded to evacuate, but not all. Almost a quarter of the colonist families chose to remain behind. While it more than met our rather simple needs, Loran II is not a particularly rich planet, not in the way the rest of the galaxy reckons richness, and we felt certain that the Cardassians had more important things to think about than our little world.”
The colonists on Dorvan V had taken that same gamble. They had trusted that their “little world” held no pressing interest for the Cardassians, and they had been lucky in that their guess had been accurate.
Such had at first seemed to be the case with Loran II as well, Chakotay knew. Since the end of the war until just recently, those who had elected to remain behind had been in fairly regular contact with those who had chosen to evacuate.
“According to my report,” said Chakotay, “shortly before you began to move toward resuming residence on Loran II, you lost contact with those colonists who had elected to stay.”
Fortier nodded, sighed, and sipped his cooling tea. “True. We have no idea why. It could be anything, from simple equipment damage—that is, of course, our hope—to a swift, devastating illness to an attack.”
“Nothing we’ve heard indicates the latter,” Chakotay said quickly.
“Of course, but until we can get there and see for ourselves, we will not know conclusively.” His voice trembled ever so slightly. “I left a brother behind, Captain. You must know I am hoping for the best.”
“As am I—and everyone in the Federation,” Chakotay said earnestly. This was the one of the first real efforts toward regaining normalcy