Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [2]
Troi popped the last of the exquisite chocolates into her mouth. Around the confection, she said, “We never catch breaks, Will. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” And they headed for the turbolift.
Picard glanced up as they entered the bridge. Riker didn’t like the look on his face. As he and Troi assumed their seats, Riker asked, “Status?”
“We’ve received a distress call from the Adventure,” Picard said grimly. “They were seconds away from a warp core breach and attempting to evacuate when they sent the call. We heard nothing more. Presently we are heading to their last known location at warp nine.”
Their eyes met. Both men knew that even warp ten, if such a thing were possible, might not be fast enough. Seconds—sometimes nanoseconds—counted. If you weren’t able to shut down a warp core breach in time, chances were you wouldn’t make it to the escape pods.
Their fears were confirmed when they dropped out of warp. There was no sign of a ship, no sign of escape pods—nothing but debris floating in the iciness of space.
Just to be sure, Picard asked in a clipped voice, “Deanna? Anything?”
Her large brown eyes full of sorrow, she shook her head. “No one survived, Captain.”
Riker hated moments like these—moments when he was utterly helpless and there was no action to take to ease the pain. The Adventure was no more; Captain T’Piran, her five-member crew, and their infamous prisoner were dead.
“When we first brought Crell Moset on board,” said Picard, “I assured him he wouldn’t be killed.”
Riker gazed out at the floating debris. “Looks like you lied.”
Chapter
1
2378
ADMIRAL KATHRYN JANEWAY APPROACHED the pool table, her jaw set, her eyes bright. Captain Chakotay thought Joan of Arc might have worn that same look of passionate determination, gripping a lance instead of a cue stick. Janeway surveyed the table, called her shot, lined it up, and to the surprise of neither of her watching friends, sank the ball.
The three of them were in the real, bona fide Sandrine’s in Marseilles. Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris had made the introductions a few months ago and told Sandrine about how popular the replicated bistro was on Voyager’s holodeck. Sandrine had been enormously pleased to think that her “simple, petit bistro offered so much comfort to lost travelers.” The elegant blond proprietor had kissed everyone on the cheek—the men on each cheek, a bit too lingeringly—and offered complimentary champagne and caviar all around.
Tonight, six months after Voyager’s return home, only Janeway, Chakotay, and Dr. Jarem Kaz were enjoying the dim lighting and cozy atmosphere of the bistro. Janeway sipped a glass of fine French wine between shots, Kaz had indulged in Antarean brandy, and Chakotay held a glass of cold mineral water with lime.
“Got a big day tomorrow,” he said as he ordered, “and besides, I have to stay sharp if I have any hope of winning against Admiral Shark here.”
In the end, though, Chakotay realized that his decision to stick to water didn’t help much. Janeway continued to dominate the game.
“Maybe we should change the rules,” Kaz said to Chakotay as Janeway sank her fourth ball.
Janeway looked up in mock horror. “Gentlemen, I’m surprised at you. You should know by now that I never, ever change or bend rules.”
The two men exchanged amused glances. Chakotay had been Janeway’s first officer for seven years and knew nearly everything there was to know about the woman who had brought her crew home against impossible odds. Janeway kept to the spirit of the law, but not always the letter. She took risks and followed her gut instincts and her heart’s advice as well as the logic of her brain.
Sometimes those risks didn’t pay off. Sometimes they exacted a dreadful toll. But most of the time, Kathryn Janeway won.
Just as she was doing now.
Kaz had known Janeway and Chakotay for only a few months, but the three of them had become fast friends in that time. The Trill doctor had risked everything to help them stop a deadly threat to Earth shortly after the Voyager crew had returned home.