Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [20]
Ellis’s pale blue eyes widened slightly and his face colored. Uh oh, Chakotay thought. Maybe he didn’t know that.
Barreling on, he continued, “We also both know how those of us who spent the last years in the Delta Quadrant are thought of among certain segments of the population, especially in Starfleet. I can’t tell you how often someone has called us ‘lucky.’ I don’t think the families of those who died trying to get Voyager home believe their loved ones were lucky. I’ve read the reports, I’ve talked to the survivors, I have some grasp of what the Alpha Quadrant has undergone while we were dealing with our own difficulties. It’s been harder for us to reintegrate ourselves into society than you might think. There’s a mixture on board now of former Voyager crew and Dominion War veterans, and that’s reflected in the ship’s captain and its first officer.”
He couldn’t read Ellis’s expression, but now that he had opened the proverbial can of worms, Chakotay continued.
“The people I’ve served with over the last seven years are fully capable of focusing their attention and making split-second decisions. We’d never have made it back if that wasn’t the case. But they may be a little more relaxed than you’re used to, a little more casual, and perhaps even a bit irreverent. Don’t make the mistake of assuming that a laid-back attitude in the mess hall or on the holodeck indicates incompetence.”
“Captain, I believe that making such an assumption would indeed be a mistake,” Ellis said rather pointedly. Chakotay noticed with pleasure that Ellis now looked more amused than offended. Good.
Ellis said, “You do realize that one of the reasons I was assigned as your first officer was to temper your, um, irreverence?”
“I do,” Chakotay said, “but I outrank you.”
Ellis paused before speaking, trying to gather his thoughts.
“Permission to speak freely?” he said at last.
“By all means.”
“I don’t know if this leopard can change his spots,” Ellis said, “or, frankly, if he even wants to. But I understand your meaning, Captain. I respect what those who served aboard Voyager went through. And though you may not believe it, I respect the former Maquis among this crew as well. They put up a good fight long before the rest of the Federation got on board. And once reinstated, they continued to fight well. I’m sure you know by now that those who are left are highly regarded these days.”
Those who are left. Chakotay remembered receiving the letter from Sveta, the horrible missive that told him that an overwhelming majority of the Maquis had been killed. It had felt like a punch in the gut when he read those words, and had affected him deeply. It had affected every former Maquis on Voyager, perhaps especially B’Elanna, who had resorted to increasingly risky holodeck programs in order that she might feel something, anything. He couldn’t believe it when he stepped onto the holodeck and into a program she’d designed that showcased murdered, bloody Maquis bodies in a labyrinthine cave system, complete with grinning, maniacal Cardassians for her to fight.
His mind went back to a time even before then, before he and his crew had been snatched by the Caretaker. He saw Arak Katal’s friendly Bajoran face, a pleasant mask that had hidden an evil Chakotay couldn’t even begin to grasp. He wondered again, as he had a thousand times before, what possibly could have driven a Bajoran to betray his own people in such a brutal fashion.
“Captain?” Ellis’s voice jolted him back to the present. To cover his woolgathering, Chakotay smiled reassuringly at his new first officer.
“We’re creating something new here, a fresh start,” Chakotay said. “Let’s you and I set the example.” He extended his hand.
Without hesitation, Ellis grasped it firmly. “I’d be honored, sir.”
One thing that was SOP early on in a ship’s first few missions was that everyone needed to have a routine physical. It was not a top priority, but since the trip to Loran II promised to be uneventful, Chakotay had issued the order and assumed