Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [26]
Chittenden replied, “Well, you certainly weren’t playing in the Alpha Quadrant. We lost a lot of good people here too, you know. A few million good people.”
The color rose in her face. She looked even more attractive.
“And how many of those millions of good people did you know and love? I lost friends I’d seen every single day for seven years!”
“I lost friends too, Lieutenant!” Their faces swam into his mind, the pain of their deaths eased only a very little by the ultimate victory over the Dominion. “Friends who willingly boarded ships and headed into battle to fight for the protection of this quadrant, not to just get home and have a nice cup of coffee!”
His eyes widened as the words left his mouth. He couldn’t believe what he had just said. This was more than a heated discussion. This could get him slapped down so hard for insubordination—
Campbell stared at him, her blue eyes bright, her face crimson.
“Lieutenant Campbell, I’m—”
She rose, taking her tray. “Excuse me.”
David watched her go, mentally kicking himself. He drew a deep breath and for the first time noticed that he was being watched. Some of the faces turned to him were angry or hurt. But other faces—those of the cute young red-haired woman and the rangy fellow, for instance—had slight smiles on them, and he received more than a few subtle nods of approval.
He had completely lost his appetite. Chittenden returned the remains of his uneaten meal to the replicator. Part of him wanted to seek Campbell out and make sure she heard his full apology. But another part of him thought that although his words had certainly been inappropriate, the sentiment wasn’t.
Voyager had nothing—nothing—on the torment those in the Alpha Quadrant had undergone in its absence. The lives that had been lost on this ship over the last seven years were a drop in the bucket compared to what those who had stayed behind had endured.
No, Chittenden decided as he headed back to engineering. He wouldn’t apologize.
After all, he was right.
Lyssa Campbell was grateful she was alone in the turbolift as she headed back to the bridge. Her solitude gave her space to fume uninterrupted.
How dare that upstart puppy imply that those who served on Voyager were somehow “less Starfleet” than those who’d been in the Alpha Quadrant! This was his first time on a starship, for crying out loud. What did he know about it? What did he know about anything?
She thought back to the awful moment when she awoke in the transporter room alone, blood clotting in her hair, right after the Caretaker had abducted—there was no other word for it—Voyager. Learning that so many of her friends had been killed in an instant. Hearing the news that Janeway had deliberately destroyed the ship’s one chance of getting home. The pain of that had been dreadful, but as time passed, Campbell found herself glad that Janeway had made that choice. She’d gotten to know Kes, the Ocampa, and the thought of that sweet girl being the last one of her species alive because of something Voyager had done…No. Such a thing was unthinkable. Janeway had made the right decision.
As the deck levels sped by, Lyssa thought of the friends she’d lost since then. Their faces crowded in her mind. There were so many—too many.
How dare David Chittenden say he’d suffered more.
She blew out a breath, stirring her blond hair, as the anger ebbed. Everyone had suffered, whether they were in the Alpha Quadrant or the Delta Quadrant. It was stupid to play this “we hurt worse than you did” game, but she knew that she and Chittenden were not the only ones playing it.
The war was over. Voyager had made it home. It was time to move on.
If only everyone agreed.
Campbell had to smile to herself as she realized that the only