Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [7]
“All ready for your presentation, Doc?” Chakotay inquired. The Doctor had been invited to speak before a special Federation subcommittee on the issue of holographic rights. Chakotay knew how important this was to the Doctor, but suspected that it was rather low on the list of the Federation’s priorities. He hoped he was mistaken and that the Doctor’s comments would be well received.
The Doctor turned and brightened when he saw Chakotay. “Captain Chakotay! It’s such a pleasure to be here on this auspicious day. Thank you for asking. Yes, I’m a bit nervous about it, but Seven assures me that my speech is powerful and compelling.” He hesitated, and then added, “Of course, she’s listened to me read it six times now.”
“It is a strong and well-reasoned piece of oratory, Doctor,” said Seven, “but repetition does dull one’s appreciation for it.”
“I wish it had been possible to have the two of you back on Voyager,” Chakotay said sincerely. “We could certainly use you. But it seems to me that both of you are enjoying your present line of work. Is that the case?”
“It is…stimulating,” said Seven.
“What exactly is it you think about in your think tank?”
“Everything,” the Doctor replied.
“The Doctor exaggerates,” Seven chided.
“Not by much,” the Doctor retorted.
“Our think tank serves the Federation in general, not one specific branch. Therefore, we are not inhibited by which lines of inquiry and investigation we choose to pursue. Our requests for supplies and information are met without complaint. We analyze the potential flaws in military plans, search for cures for diseases, and test inventions. We exchange views, perform research, conduct experiments, and then present our findings to the Federation.”
“Only Seven could make such thrilling work sound dull,” said the Doctor. “There are eight of us, each one a specialist in his or her—or its—field. We bounce ideas off each other. Brainstorm. Approach things from off-the-wall directions.” His eyes gleamed. “Sometimes we just flat-out argue.”
“We do not argue,” said Seven in a tone of voice that indicated they’d hashed this one out before. “We debate. There is a difference.”
“Seven,” said the Doctor patiently, “food was thrown yesterday. Hurling of victuals does not constitute proper terms of debate.”
“That has never happened before, and Tklish expressed proper remorse and chagrin,” said Seven. She turned to Chakotay and arched an eyebrow. “We debate,” she repeated.
Chakotay’s smile grew as a comforting warmth stole over him. He loved listening to these two banter with each other. It was so good to be back in the company of these dear old friends. Almost all of them were here. Even Neelix had sent him a message of congratulations last night all the way from the Delta Quadrant. While Chakotay was silently grateful that the Talaxian’s longing to personally cater the party was impossible to fulfill, Neelix’s chipper presence would have been deeply welcomed.
The soft sound of a youngster clearing her throat drew his attention back to the room. He turned and saw Naomi Wildman grinning at him. Behind her stood the girl’s parents, the Ktarian Greskrendtregk and the human Samantha Wildman, and Icheb.
“Now this is a surprise,” Chakotay said to Icheb. “You’re supposed to be in classes, aren’t you?”
“When your instructors are Admiral Janeway and Commander Tuvok,” Icheb replied, “it’s a little easier to skip class for Voyager’s relaunch.”
“I imagine it would be.” Chakotay shook the former Borg’s hand and clapped him on the back. He opened his arms and hugged Naomi. “Goodness, Naomi, you’ve grown so much!”
“In a year or so I’ll be able to apply for Starfleet Academy,” said Naomi, looking more like a coltish teenager than the appealing little girl Chakotay remembered.
“Time does fly,” said Chakotay.