The Brave and the Bold Book Two - Keith R. A. DeCandido [46]
“And if you’d missed?”
“Then I’d have fired again.” Chakotay went to take a sip of his tea, realized it was cold, then put it back down. “We could’ve stopped him.”
“And when he woke up?”
“I don’t know, but he didn’t have to—” Chakotay cut himself off. “I’m sick of death, Hudson. Every time I turn around, I see people dying—more to the point, family dying. My family on Trebus, Tharia’s family on Beaulieu’s, hell, even Tuvok’s family on Amniphon. And it’s only going to get worse.”
Hudson nodded. “I know. I lost my wife, Gretchen, not long ago—not to the Cardassians,” he added quickly, “but—well, I wonder sometimes if I would’ve done what I did if she were still alive.”
Chakotay stood up just as the door to the mess hall opened again. “We should’ve been able to save him.”
“Perhaps,” said the new arrival: Tuvok. “But we were not. It is illogical to dwell on that which we cannot change.”
“Maybe, Tuvok,” Chakotay said, “but it’s just as illogical to ignore the past when you can learn from it.”
“True. However, my concern is not with the past, but with the future.”
Smiling, Hudson said, “You want to know if we’re going to let you join or shoot you down where you stand?”
“I had assumed the second alternative to be somewhat less dramatic than you describe, but you are essentially correct.”
Hudson had, in fact, been considering that very thing since he woke up. The Liberator was currently on course to the Badlands in order to make sure that they had truly shaken the Hood; then it would proceed to a Maquis safe house to off-load Chakotay’s people. Torres had made noises about having to scrounge for another ship, but her grumbling had been good-natured—she seemed to enjoy the challenges of taking clappedout old ships and making them work. Of course, Mastroeni hadn’t stopped her attempts to recruit the half-Klingon woman, but Torres was apparently having none of it.
That left the question of what to do with their apparent new recruit.
“We can’t deny,” Hudson said after a moment, “that you kept your word—and you definitely fought for our side.”
“He and DeSoto were in the room alone together. That was a perfect opportunity to turn both of us in, and he didn’t take it. Instead, he did everything he could to make sure we got away from the Hood safely—and gave them that damned artifact while he was at it.” Chakotay gave a lopsided smile. “It’s not like Starfleet isn’t chomping at the bit to get both of us into a prison cell, after all. They tend to get self-righteous about people who ‘betray the uniform.’”
“Betray, hell,” Hudson said, his expression sour. “I’ve done more to uphold what Starfleet’s supposed to stand for since I joined the Maquis than I ever did as one of their officers.”
“It is my hope,” Tuvok said in a quiet voice, “to do likewise.”
“I hope so, Mr. Tuvok, because unless Captain Chakotay here has an objection, I think you’d be a welcome addition to the ranks.”
Chakotay shook his head. “No objections here. In fact, I’d like to offer you a place with me. After all, I—” His voice caught. “I just lost a hand at operations, and I think it’d be nice to have someone in that position who was less—volatile than he was.” He turned to Hudson. “Unless you have any objections?”
“No, that’s fine. I don’t really have an open slot here—in fact, I’m looking forward to getting you people off here so we have some space again—and I don’t think Darleen’s ready to serve with our Mr. Tuvok just yet.”
Tuvok nodded. “I would tend to agree. Therefore, Captain Chakotay, I accept your offer.”
“Bridge to Hudson,” said Mastroeni’s voice over the intercom. “We’re entering the Badlands. Still no sign of pursuit.”
“Good. I’ll be right up.” He turned to Chakotay. “Speaking of space—will you please go change your clothes so people don’t have to stand three meters away from you?”
Tuvok added with as much emphasis as he was ever likely to use, “A most apt suggestion.”
Laughing, Chakotay said, “Fine, fine, I’m going.” He moved toward the door, then stopped