The Murdered Sun - Christie Golden [68]
She kept watching, wondering if anyone else would figure it out before Kim presented the piece de resistance of his speech. She thought Chakotay might. And when Kim pulled up the detailed image of the Akerian vessel's weapons array, she saw comprehension beginning to dawn in Chakotay's earth-dark eyes.
Quickly he glanced over at her, and she put a finger to her lips.
She wasn't about to deny young Harry Kim his big finish.
Paris, Neelix, Kes, and Torres were still in the dark--just as she and Tuvok had been. Kim continued, showing the slave areas on the planet and explaining why the Akerians had brought in the Verunans.
He then turned to the image of the shrinking Sun-Eater and the video footage of the Akerians artificially "feeding" the concavity. Torres was impressed; Chakotay and Paris looked sick.
Poor Kes looked as though she was about to cry at the scene.
Kim spoke about the log, the unguarded moment where Nelek had removed his helmet before turning the recording off. Everyone leaned forward eagerly, probably unaware that they were doing so.
Nelek removed his helmet.
Everyone gasped.
"They're... but they're...," spluttered Paris.
"Exactly," grinned Janeway.
CHAPTER 13
"Just like old times, eh?" grinned Chakotay at Torres as they left the conference room.
The half-Klingon glanced up at him, smiling ferally. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "You bet," she replied. "And everyone else is feeling it, too."
By "everyone else," the first officer knew B'Elanna meant those crew members who used to be--and perhaps still were, deep in their hearts--Maquis. It really was like the "old days," when everyone knew just what it was they were risking their lives for and knew, bone deep, that it was a good cause. Those people who used to be Chakotay's crew had some measure of that fighting spirit flowing in their blood, or else they would never have joined the Maquis. Starfleet might call them terrorists, but they knew who they were--they were Freedom Fighters, each and every one of them. At least, Chakotay's people were. They were men and women who had not been afraid to give up lives, homes, families, security, to fight and perhaps die to protest the encroachment of the calculating, cruel Cardassians.
While most of them had come to accept Janeway instead of him as their captain, he knew that sometimes they had problems seeing what they were fighting for. But now, word about the Verunan plight was common knowledge. Many of the crew had met them.
This time, on this mission, they knew exactly what they were fighting for. And Chakotay had to admit, it felt good.
"The difference is, this time the Federation's on our side," he said to Torres just before she stepped into the turbolift to descend to her station in Engineering.
B'Elanna turned. Her smile grew, her eyes sparkled. "I know," she replied. "And that's the best thing about it."
The doors closed. Chakotay stepped down, automatically heading toward his usual station at Janeway's left, then correcting himself and continuing down toward the cone. Paris wouldn't be maneuvering Voyager on this expedition. He was already in the shuttlecraft, waiting to rendezvous with the sleek little Verunan--K'shikkaan, Chakotay corrected himself for the umpteenth time--vessels.
Behind him, he heard Janeway's quick, light footfalls. Her hand rested briefly on his shoulder, a gentle reassurance for them both, then she stood behind him. Chakotay knew, without having to look around, what he would find: the heartening sight of his captain in combat mode, her hands on her slim hips, her chin slightly lifted, as if daring