Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [14]
Besides, there was that stubborn Federation trait of wanting all its members to be peaceful, happy, and prosperous.
“Thank you, Captain. Is there anything else you wish to ask of me?”
“Not at the moment, no.” Chakotay hesitated, then said, “I trust my first officer took good care of you when you came on board?”
“Yes, but he is very formal.”
“He takes this mission seriously,” said Chakotay, assuming that this was true.
Fortier’s dark eyes flashed. “There is no one on this ship who takes this mission more seriously than I,” Fortier said. “But we are casual men and women, Captain. We are a free people. We do not take kindly to being told to stay in our quarters like animals in a pen.”
“Of course not,” said Chakotay. “I assure you, Commander Ellis was only following proper protocol. This is this ship’s first mission with this new crew—and new captain,” he added. “You might experience some of our…growing pains. Please know that all your people will have the run of the ship once we’re under way.”
“Thank you,” said Fortier, relaxing visibly.
“You may want to visit our counselor,” said Chakotay. “We’re fortunate in that we were assigned a Huanni. We want you to feel free to express any concerns you might have about returning to Loran II.”
“You must understand there are no so-called concerns,” Fortier said. “We are going home. We are worried about those who were left behind, but that is all.”
Chakotay knew he was pushing. Fortier was clearly an independent man, and he didn’t want to risk alienating him further.
“As you see fit, of course. If any of your people do decide to visit her, anything they share with her will remain confidential.”
“I understand.” Fortier hesitated. “We had another request, Captain. Was it possible for it to be granted?”
“Oh, yes, you asked for a spiritual adviser. We’ll be picking one up on Deep Space 6 very soon.”
“Ah, good, good.”
Chakotay hesitated. “I don’t mean to pry, but…Astall is a very competent counselor.”
“And you are wondering, why do we need another person to talk to? I am certain your Astall is brilliant. But, Captain, I can tell a counselor, ‘I am worried about my brother’s safety,’ and she can help me handle my anxiety. But if I say, ‘I am worried about my brother’s soul,’ what is she to say to that?”
The man had an excellent point. “My father would have liked you and your people very much.”
Fortier smiled a little. “I hope his son does too. Is that all, Captain?”
“I think so, for now.” Both men rose and shook hands. The door hissed as Fortier exited. Chakotay exhaled. He had a completely fresh appreciation for his friend Kathryn Janeway. But he had a certain problem that she hadn’t had—Priggy for a first officer.
It was time they had The Talk.
Chapter
4
TORCHLIGHT FLICKERED on the steam rising from the fissures in the stone, illuminating it as it curled upward to caress rapt faces with its sinuous tendrils. The lava below bathed everything in a red, eerie glow. The heat scoured, purified; it burned away everything that was not clean, not focused, not its raw, true self. The low drone of chanting created a rhythm that hummed along the very bones, throbbed with each heartbeat, a rhythm that both soothed and inspired. The assembled figures clustered together, opened mind and body to the steam and the heat and the visions that would come, staring at the pulsing molten rock.
Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris wanted to wipe at the sweat that greased his brow before it dripped into his eyes, but knew better than to make the gesture. It would be a sign of discomfort, and discomfort was viewed as weakness. His nasal passages burned from the steam, and the heavy Klingon clothing he was forced to wear was unbearably hot. He swallowed, a difficult trick to perform with a thick, parched tongue. He thought he might pass out from the heat and lack of water. While normally fainting, too, would be a sign of weakness, here it would shout to the assembled Klingons