The Murdered Sun - Christie Golden [2]
But she did not fully relax, and after a moment, he thought to her: What is wrong, my friend?
Nothing is wrong, she replied without a sound. But there will not always be time for mirth and laughter, my playmate and friend.
Tell me. Chakotay sat up, reaching to touch the animal spirit behind the ears in a gentle gesture.
She fixed him with her keen gaze. You are a teacher. You are also a student. You teach the ways of your people. That is easy to do. What is harder to do is to be wise and teach me the ways of people you do not know.
Chakotay shook his head, not comprehending. But how do I teach what I do not know?
The amber eyes narrowed, and he knew she was laughing. That is the challenge, is it not?
He had just opened his mouth to reply when a sharp whistle sounded--in his real ears, not inside his head. The dreamscape vanished, dissipating like the sand paintings of the Navajo at the end of the Sing. Chakotay opened his eyes, calm, fully awake, in his own quarters.
"All senior officers, report to the bridge at once."
Janeway's voice. Tense. Hopeful? He wouldn't know till he reached the bridge. The dream and his friend's typically cryptic advice would have to wait.
***
By the time the complete senior staff had assembled on the bridge, which was still dimly lit in deference to the early hour, Janeway was experiencing a sinking feeling of deja vu.
There it was on Tuvok's console, a subspace disturbance that was, as of yet, only registering on subspace bands. All the necessary ingredients for a typical wormhole seemed to be present: verteron emanations, tanali secondary particles. All the things that Ensign Harry Kim, fresh faced and hopeful, had found once before.
That incident had led to an almost excruciating disappointment.
As she met Tuvok's dark brown eyes, she read caution in their depths.
She didn't need the warning. She'd once encouraged hope above all else. Hope did need to spring eternal aboard the Voyager, but it needed to be tempered by prudence.
"Full illumination." she told the computer, which obliged by instantly raising the lights. There could be no true night on a starship, of course; the difference between "night" and "day" was purely artificial, but the regular cycles provided a sense of comfort and stability to a largely human crew used to normal planetary cycles. The crew on duty, other than the senior officers, were the third shift, but they would operate more efficiently in "daylight."
Chakotay and Paris entered the bridge together. Janeway allowed herself a slight spark of pleasure. They were getting along much better these days, the big Indian and the slim, cocky youth--just like two senior officers should. Curiosity burned in both blue and brown orbs as they glanced over at her. She waved them forward and let them see what she had seen, saw the glances that passed between them, knew that they were thinking exactly what she had thought.
Harry Kim had already examined the evidence and was at his station with it pulled up on his own screen. He looked as if he were trying to be stoic, and indeed a hint of remembered disappointment sat upon his open, friendly features.
Sensors also showed that the solar system in which it was located had a star and several planetary bodies, but those were of secondary importance to Janeway at the moment.
"As you can see, gentlemen," said Janeway, "it's got all the earmarks of a wormhole. This," she said, tapping a graphic, "is what worries me."
They could all see the analysis the computer had provided: an indication of heavy gamma and X-ray activity along with a great deal of degenerate matter. Chakotay's face, like Tuvok's, revealed little emotion, but Janeway saw the concern fall like a hawk's