Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [48]
“I’ve got good news, Tom,” she replied. “While I don’t have a firm offer of a position for you yet, I can at least take you away from Boreth for a while and introduce you to some people.”
Paris smiled. “No offense to the Klingons,” he said, “but frankly, anywhere that isn’t Boreth would be welcome.”
“That bad?”
“It’s not bad, it’s just—well, there’s an awful lot of lava caves and you have to write on really cute little animals. But the babysitter’s great.” Aware that he was babbling, he adopted a more formal tone. “What is it you need from me, Admiral?”
“Tuvok and I are getting ready to attend a conference on a neutral planet called Vaan. It’s only a few light-years from Boreth. We’re going to be talking with several representatives from various planets who are considering leaving the Federation.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?” Tom was genuinely puzzled.
“The reasons vary,” Janeway replied. “But much of it has to do with the aftershocks from the Dominion War. Some governments feel that the Federation’s policy is too active. That we’re too willing to get involved. Many feel we should be more hands-off, as it were.”
Tom opened his mouth, but he realized, as an old saying went, that he would be preaching to the choir. Janeway clearly didn’t think it was a good idea for these planets to secede, he knew her well enough to know that she shared his approval of the Federation’s willingness to get its hands dirty to protect its members—and even planets that weren’t members but needed some help.
“I’m not the quadrant’s finest diplomat, ma’am,” he pointed out.
She smiled. “You’re not as bad as you think. Besides, if it’s an area in which you think you’re weak, then you should brush up on it. You’ll need the skills if you’re to be a first officer one of these days.”
She grew serious. “You spent several years with me just trying to survive, to make it home. The pressure made you into a diamond in my opinion, but I think it’s time we added a little polish. You’re first officer material, Thomas Eugene Paris, and I’m going to do everything I can to see you sitting in that chair.”
He was surprised to find a lump in his throat. Janeway had taken gambles with him from day one. He remembered when they had first met at the New Zealand penal colony, remembered looking up at her as she regarded him thoughtfully, as if running a diagnostic on him with her gaze. He’d been a prisoner, a traitor, the black sheep of a noble starfaring family, and somehow she’d seen something in him that no one else had.
And she continued to see things that no one else had.
He swallowed, hoping that his eyes didn’t seem too bright to her. “Thank you, Admiral.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” The twinkle in her eye was back as she added, “You may find yourself longing for the lava caves of Boreth along about the third formal banquet and the fifteenth speech.”
B’Elanna’s heart stopped for a moment, and when it resumed beating it was at an accelerated pace. With a hand that trembled, she rested her gloved finger on the sentence. She had to reread it, make absolutely sure that it really said what she thought it said.
Some words in Klingon, she knew, were open to interpretation. Others were as solid as if they had been physically made of stone. She hoped this one was the former.
Translate it however you want to, B’Elanna, she told herself. Make it read what you want it to read and then move on.
But she couldn’t. She had to know, even if it meant…even so. Trying to control her trembling, she rose and carefully bore the parchment over to Lakuur. He scowled as he saw her approach.
“Lakuur, I require assistance in translating this passage.”
He raised a thick eyebrow. “I am surprised you have gone this long without asking,” he said.
She ignored the insult and held out the scroll. “The third prophecy,” she said. “Can the fourth word be translated as ‘traveler’ or ‘wanderer’?”
As anything else but the word that I think it is? she pleaded silently.
“Foolish mongrel,” he said, sighing. There was no venom