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Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

                        But Brutus says he was ambitious;
                        And Brutus is an honourable man.
                            - William Shakespeare
                            Julius Caesar, Act III, scene ii

High above the city of Sri’la, a lone figure stood, watching the lights of Br’nai’s capitol sparkle in the night.  The glow illuminated his silhouette and threw angular shadows across his face as he surveyed the city.  Each light represented a living being, he thought, a pawn to be manipulated beneath his fingers.  Lights flickered as ephemeral creatures arrived home, left their offices, fed their children, ate dinner with their spouses and turned in for the night, extinguishing their little, sparkling lights from existence.  While they went about their meager lives, he waited.  The course of history was about to change.   

He stood, gazing out a large window on the top floor of the tallest building in the city, where he could see the entire metropolis stretched below him.  He liked to imagine that somewhere, a citizen was standing on his roof, feeling insignificant and looking up, wondering about the identity of the robed figure who stood silhouetted in the window.  He wore the traditional garb of his people - a long, black, hooded robe that tied around his neck and flowed around his lithe body.  The hood was thrown back over his shoulders, and the robe gapped open in the front, revealing well-fitted black trousers and a loose black shirt. 

Anticipation turned like a cyclone in the pit of his stomach, but his face remained calm, displaying none of the turmoil that raged inside of him.  The only external sign of his nerves showed in the fingers of his left hand, which he subconsciously rubbed together.  For years, he had dedicated his life to the achievement of this night; it had been his sole focus and goal.  Now it had arrived and he would soon know if all the years behind him had been worth the effort. 

The ding of a bell alerted him that someone was coming up in the lift, but as the lift doors whooshed open, he did not turn.  Uneven footfalls clacked on the floor behind him, and he sensed the anxiety of his visitor.  “Center yourself, Ril.  It wouldn’t do to have you trip and fall on a night like this, would it?”  He still had not turned around, preferring to keep his eyes on the twinkling lights of the city as he pictured the minions whose lives he would soon control.

Behind him, the footsteps slowed and steadied.  His visitor took a deep breath and then spoke in a shaky voice, “Master V’tan, the ballots have been counted.”    

“And?”  His fingers stilled.

“Master Ch’a’fen has been elected emperor!”  Ril beamed with excitement.

For the first time all day, V’tan allowed a small smile to grace his features.  “Thank you, Ril.  That is excellent news.”  He slowly turned to face the man who had spent countless hours working at his side over the past several months.  Ril looked disheveled, but his eyes glowed with joy.  Having not yet achieved the stature required to wear a long robe, Ril wore simple brown trousers and a light button down shirt of the same color.  His curly brown hair looked like it was badly in need of a brush, and V’tan tried to suppress a bemused expression as he observed his assistant.

“Aren’t you excited at all, Master V’tan?  This is everything we’ve worked for!”

“Ril,” he chided, “the work hasn’t even begun.”

“The Great Hall is already filled with reporters waiting to hear the new emperor’s speech, and citizens are lined up around the block to try to see the emperor in person!”

“Very well,” said V’tan, stepping towards the lift.  With a sweep of his robe, he gestured for Ril to accompany him.  Ril’s jumpiness was beginning to affect him, and V’tan took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts and trying to calm Ril as well. 

When they exited the lift into the small, private room behind the Great Hall, however, Ril was anything but calm.  V’tan tried to ignore his assistant’s nervousness as he approached his childhood friend, the new emperor of Br’nai.  Ch’a’fen was already dressed in the emperor’s customary white garb.  “My Emperor,” V’tan said, dropping to one knee in a bow.  Ril followed suit.

Ch’a’fen took his friend’s hand and brought him to his feet.  “You don’t need to bow to me, old friend.  This is your victory as much as mine.” The two men embraced.

V’tan pulled back, holding his friend at arm’s length.  “Do you have the speech memorized?” he asked.  “Have you reviewed everything we discussed?”

The emperor nodded.  “Has there ever been a time that I did not follow your advice?  You are my guide, my counsel, my most trusted advisor.  Now that I am ruler of Br’nai, I shall count on you more than ever.”

V’tan bowed his head.  “I will serve you to the best of my ability, old friend.”  He glanced towards the door to the Great Hall where he could hear the noise of anxious reporters awaiting the new emperor.  “Go!  I will be right behind you.”  As he followed Ch’a’fen into the Hall, he smiled to himself.  Poor Ch’a’fen, he thought.  So naive.  Keep thinking that it is I who serve you, my dear Emperor.  In reality, it is you who will serve me.

They emerged from the antechamber into a hullaballoo of reporters clamoring for a statement.  Ch’a’fen held up one hand, refusing to say a word until the reporters quieted.  “You will hear what I have to say when I deliver my speech to the Br’nai people.  This is their night, not yours.”  This statement sent the reporters into a tizzy as they hurried to document the new emperor’s every word.  A female reporters swooned and had to be supported by one of her colleagues.  She wrote for a magazine geared towards Br’nai women who stayed at home with their families.  She, along with most of the women who read her magazine, thought that the new emperor was positively dreamy.  

A podium had been erected in the center of the Great Hall where the newly chosen emperor traditionally made his speech to the reporters and cameras.  Ch’a’fen stepped up to the podium and informed the reporters, “I will make my speech to the people directly.  You may accompany me to the balcony if you would like to hear it.”

The reporters became flustered.  For almost two hundred years, the newly elected emperor had spoken from a podium in the Great Hall - a speech that was then transmitted to the Br’nai people through various imaging devices.  No one had ever made a speech directly to the people from the Great Hall’s balcony.  But before anyone could object, the emperor was walking towards the exterior.  V’tan leered as he watched the reporters’ reaction to Ch’a’fen’s change of tradition.  As the emperor stepped outside onto the terrace, V’tan felt a gust of cold night air, and a rush of adrenaline coursed through his body.  Ch’a’fen looked back at him and he nodded.  Go on.  You know the words, V’tan thought.  

Ch’a’fen closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and opened them again to see the crowd that had gathered around the central government building.  Br’nai citizens filled the courtyard and beyond; the throng extended as far as the eye could see.  They clamored for attention, some demanding a speech and others shouting, “Emperor Ch’a’fen!”  He raised his hand and the crowd fell silent.  

“Citizens of Br’nai,” Ch’a’fen’s sonorous voice boomed over the crowd, “I greet you as your new emperor, and I am honored by your choice.  Thank you.”  The sea of faces below him let out a loud cheer, and he waited for the ovation to cease before continuing.  “This is a great night in the history of Br’nai.  For too long, our leaders forced our world into seclusion, hiding our many talents and gifts from the rest of the galaxy.  They held us back from progress.  They held us back from greatness.  They held us back from power.  But, my friends, those days are at an end!”  A roar emerged from the crowd, and this time, Ch’a’fen had to wait longer for them to quiet.  

“Gone are the days of oppression for those who disagree with our government’s policies.  There will be no more witch hunts, no more violence, and no more repression of progressive ideas.  I will usher in a new era for our people, an era in which our greatness will no longer be hidden, an era in which our talents will thrive and we will reach our highest potential.”  A few citizens started applauding, but Ch’a’fen continued, “As we form new allies and extend our influence beyond the sphere of our own world for the first time in centuries, the Br’nai will rise swiftly.  We will gain the respect of new allies, and soon Federation, Ferengi, Cardassian and Romulan citizens alike will look to us for guidance.”

The emperor paused, strategically changing his tone as V’tan had instructed him, making it more personable and lowering his voice.  “Citizens of Br’nai, it is you who have made this happen.  Your dedication to our principles, your courage and your tenacity have made this day possible.  You have withstood terrible trials; you joined our cause for freedom when we most needed you.  It is you who must take the credit for this great change in our history.  I am merely your servant, and I will carry your will across the quadrant!”  Another huge cheer emerged from the citizens below.  Some chanted the emperor’s name while others whooped and hollered.  

“I am humbled by your faith in me, and I will hold as sacred the trust with which you have endowed me.  I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to protect the interests of Br’nai for as long as you allow me to serve you.”  Thunderous applause rang out, cutting Ch’a’fen off once again.  “This is a great moment for our people,” he continued when the crowd quieted.  “It is a day for the history books, one our world will always remember.  Never forget that you made it happen, my fellow citizens.  On this day a new era for Br’nai begins.  A new Br’nai!  From this day on!”

Applause and cheers erupted from the crowd and the emperor waved to his people, flashing his dazzling smile.  At a silent signal from V’tan, he stepped off the balcony, while, behind him, the crowd chanted, “A new Br’nai!” and “Emperor Ch’a’fen!”

V’tan stood silently by his side as Ch’a’fen answered questions from reporters.  “Emperor Ch’a’fen, what will be your first act as emperor?” one asked.

“To repeal the Isolationist Act,” he replied immediately.  The reporters scribbled furiously on their tablets, documenting his every word.

“But we’ve lived in peace under the Isolationist Act for two hundred years!” another reporter protested.  “How will you ensure the safety of our people once we begin to allow alien cultures to influence us?”

“Br’nai has atrophied under the Isolationist Act.  There was good reason for it two hundred years ago, but now, the quadrant has moved beyond such things.  There is a Federation of Planets that includes hundreds of worlds, all living in peace and cooperation.  We have limited our growth as a race and culture by prohibiting contact with outsiders.  The days of stagnation are over.  It is time to move forward.”

“How will you maintain the purity of the Br’nai race?” the reporter shot back.

“Get off it, T’chad!” another reporter shouted.  “Everyone knows that the Sri’la Times is stuck in the past.  Your regime lost.  You had your heyday.  Now it’s our turn!”

“Yeah!” yelled another reporter.  The reporters all began to shout at each other, and the press conference quickly dissolved into mayhem.

“Stop!” shouted V’tan in a booming voice.  Everyone in the room silenced immediately, staring at him.  “This is your emperor.  Give him your respect.”  V’tan glared at the reporters and they bowed their heads in chagrin.  “This press conference is over.  You are all dismissed.”  Any protest the reporters might have made was silenced by the looming presence of the Emperor’s Royal Guard, and the reporters slinked out of the Hall.

Ch’a’fen breathed a sigh of relief.  “Thank you.”  

V’tan nodded as they retreated to the private chamber behind the Great Hall, Ril following them like a puppy dog.  “You may leave us, Ril,” V’tan dismissed him, and Ril bowed and left the room.

In private, the formalities of rank had no place between the two men, and V’tan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “Congratulations.”  

For being the oldest of friends, the two men could not have appeared more different.  V’tan’s hair was long and dark, and his eyes were a silvery grey - a shade so light that some thought his eyes had no color at all.  It was an unusual trait for a Br’nai and had set V’tan apart from his youth.  He was tall and lithe, his body well built, but not overly muscular.  Ch’a’fen, on the other hand, was short and stocky, with muscles built strong over the years by playing sports and lifting weights.  His short blonde hair fell over his black eyes in curly tendrils.  Since childhood, Ch’a’fen had been the more emotionally transparent of the two.  

“We did it!” he exclaimed, trying in vain to keep his excitement in check.  “We did it!  The sleepless nights, the protests, the pamphlets - it was all worth it.  I can hardly believe we’ve finally succeeded.  Can you?”

V’tan allowed himself a small chuckle.  “Of course I can.  I always knew we would.”

“I hoped.  I prayed.  Oh how I prayed that our sacrifice would not be in vain - your sacrifice most of all, my friend.”  

“Yes,” V’tan agreed darkly.  

“No one has worked harder for this moment than you have, V’tan.  I know that better than anyone.”

“Now we have to ensure that all our hard work was worth it.”  V’tan poured two glasses of tirin from a crystal decanter, holding one and handing the other to his friend.  He raised his glass towards Ch’a’fen.  “To a new world.  A world that is ours to create.”

“A new world,” Ch’a’fen echoed as they drank.  V’tan had always been like a brother to him; he had no siblings since Br’nai couples were only able to conceive one child.  Although the two men were the same age and had grown up going to school together, V’tan had always seemed to be the older one, and Ch’a’fen had relied on his guidance since they were boys.  “How did I do tonight?”  

“The speech was masterfully given.  You have no cause for concern.”

“You don’t think anyone will suspect that the words were not my own?”

“I don’t think anyone expects you to write your own speeches.  You are the emperor now; you have more important things to do.”  

Ch’a’fen sighed, sitting in one of the plush chairs that furnished the room which was now his private office.  “I wish I could be as confident as you are, Tan, as certain about things.  I wish I could write like you.”

V’tan smiled as his friend used his boyhood name.  According to Br’nai custom, men and women added syllables to their name as they reached a higher social stature, but the two friends continued to call each other by their childhood names when they were alone.  “Fen, no one will care if I wrote your speech tonight.  What they saw on the balcony was a confident emperor who is going to change our way of life for the better.”

This cheered Ch’a’fen and he smiled, downing the rest of his drink.  “Yes.  Yes, that is exactly what we’re doing - what we’ve always dreamed of doing.”

V’tan finished his drink and left the emperor alone.  It was only as he unlocked the door of his apartment and stepped inside that he let the mask of control fall from his face as he leaned against the doorframe.  The entryway to his apartment was dark, and the hallway felt cold.  On tonight of all nights, Ky’len should have been here to greet him, a warm cup of tirin in her hands, her long hair cascading down her shoulders and her bright green eyes staring up into his, filled with love and trust.  

V’tan blinked back tears and pushed his emotions away.  It had been five years since his wife’s death, but every day, he suffered from her absence.  Before she had died, his life had been filled with joy, even on the most difficult days.  When his work had consumed him, she had gently taken his hand and reminded him that there was more to life than politics.  But with her gone, he had become obsessed with one thing and one thing only - crushing the old regime and bringing himself and Ch’a’fen to power.  

A hot fire rose in his belly as he remembered his wife’s emerald eyes, wide with agony, as she lay on the Federation biobed.  “How could we have known?” the Starfleet doctors had said.  “We did everything we could to save her.”  The Starfleet captain had been no better.  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Master V’tan.”  Sorry?  He was sorry?  The captain hadn’t been the one to lose his wife because of the ignorance an alien people.  The worst of it was that it hadn’t only been Ky’len he had lost.  The night before the Federation ship had arrived, the couple had celebrated the news that she was pregnant with their only child.  V’tan tried not to remember; the images made him sick to his stomach.

He kicked off his boots and removed the cape that still hung around his shoulders.  He walked down the darkened hallway through the kitchen, where he stood at the large, translucent doors to his balcony, looking out at the city lights.  He could see the Great Hall from the apartment; it was one of the reasons he and Ky’len had chosen this location, so they would never forget what they were fighting for.  Ky’len again.  Why could he not eliminate her from his thoughts completely?  He slammed his palm against the door and felt a small jolt of pain run up his arm.  Taking a deep breath, he looked at the Hall and forced his thoughts away from his late wife and unborn child.

The day had gone as well as he had hoped.  Ch’a’fen’s election, his speech, the stunt with the balcony - the corners of V’tan’s lips curled into a smile as he remembered the new emperor reciting his words, the cheers erupting from the crowd because of what he, V’tan, had said and done.  The people had reacted exactly as he had anticipated.  They were suitably in awe of their new emperor and exhibited the utmost confidence in him.      He watched the glittering lights of the capitol as they shimmered, and suddenly he let out a harsh laugh.  Tonight was the night he had worked for all those years.  Perhaps the sacrifices he had made had been worth it - even Ky’len’s death might derive some meaning from this.  He had an entire planet at his fingertips; soon he would have the entire quadrant.  All he had to do was say the word, and his will would be done.  No, it was better than that.  All he had to do was think a thought, and his will would be carried out by others.  His plan would be unstoppable before anyone even realized what was happening.

Since their youth, V’tan and Ch’a’fen had fought against the isolationist policies of their leaders.  Together, they had championed a rebellion against a centuries-old fear of outsiders.  Their battle had taken its toll; many lives had been lost, but finally, tonight, they had won true victory.  Now, they controlled the Br’nai government.  Silently, V’tan vowed that no one else would ever again dictate what he could or could not do.  Never again would someone else determine his destiny.  Never again would he lose someone he loved because of others’ ignorance or stupidity.  From now on, he would be the one controlling the destinies of others.

He would ensure that Br’nai would be recognized as a warp capable civilization and earn the attention of the Federation - the mighty and arrogant Federation.  If only they had been willing to step in and assist the Br’nai resistance all those years ago, so many lives could have been spared.  But Starfleet had turned him away in his greatest hour of need, and as a result, many more lives had been lost, starting with Ky’len’s.  Now, the Federation would pay for its lack of vision.

V’tan stepped onto his balcony, bracing himself against the cold night air.  He turned his gaze away from the capitol building and upwards, towards the distant Federation.  No longer will we live in isolation, he thought, held back from our potential.  No longer am I at the mercy of another’s will.  Others will no longer decide whether my wife lives or dies, who will be my allies, what paths will be open to me.  From now on, I make my own path.  His teeth began to show as his smile widened, his silver eyes glinting in the moonlight.  No, I am no longer at your mercy, he thought towards his own people and towards the distant stars of the Federation.  Soon, you will be at mine.

Chapter Text

1

A New Life

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another."   -Anatole France

From somewhere in the distance, a bird called to its mate in a melancholy song, a tune filled with longing and loneliness.  The sad melody floated across the stillness of Bajor’s lush forest.  The temperature was warm, the humidity oppressive, and Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of her neck as the first minister bid her farewell.  “It has been a great pleasure meeting you, Admiral.  I hope that this visit will be the first of many.”

Janeway reached out to shake his hand.  “I assure you, First Minister, the Federation greatly values Bajor’s contributions.  We are delighted that your long journey towards membership is finally complete.”

“Well, if anyone would know about long journeys, it’s you, Admiral,” he quipped.  “Safe travels to you and your people.”

Janeway glanced at her away team and tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway to Lakota.  Four to beam up.”  The shimmer of the transporter beam caught her, and a moment later, she was on the transporter pad.

Captain Benteen stood in front of her.  “How did it go?” she asked.

Janeway gestured with one hand as if she was tossing something aside and stepped down.  “It was fine.  The Bajorans are very concerned about making a good impression.”

Captain Benteen smiled.  “And did they make a good impression on the great Admiral Janeway?”

Janeway rolled her eyes as the two women walked out of the transporter room.  “Just admiral will do, Captain.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Janeway sighed.  “I’m glad that was the last of these meetings.  I’m ready to go home.”

“Surely six months in deep space was easy compared to seven years in the Delta Quadrant?”

“Ah, that was different.  I was so focused on getting home that I rarely thought about the passage of time.  Every day was a new crisis: the Borg, Species 8472, some alien race capturing one of my crew or trying to steal my ship.  These diplomatic missions are hard work, and they keep me occupied, but, I have to admit, sometimes I long for the exhilaration of the Delta Quadrant.”

“I can understand that,” the captain replied.  The two women had become acquaintances over the past six months, but Benteen always felt that the admiral wanted to keep her professional distance.  “Well, Admiral, we have another few hours before we arrive at Deep Space Nine, and that will be a short stop - just long enough to pick up the delegates for the symposium.  You’ll be back at your desk at Starfleet Command in no time.”

Janeway gave the captain a wry glance.  The last place she wanted to be was stuck behind a desk, but she bit her tongue, holding back a sarcastic remark, and thanked Benteen before heading to her quarters.  Once inside, she kicked off her boots and headed for the replicator.  “Coffee, black.”  She took the warm beverage in her hands and inhaled deeply, savoring the rich, nutty smell.  Activating her computer terminal, she sat down to compose her report on her meeting with the Bajoran first minister.  As she wrote, frustration surged through her.

After making first contact with more species than any Starfleet captain in a hundred years, defeating the Borg and countless other hostile forces, and achieving the impossible to bring Voyager across 70,000 light years in only seven years, here she was, relegated to writing reports about diplomatic missions.  She turned away from her computer and walked over to the window to look out at the stars.  She had done this so often on Voyager that it had become a habit, and she gained comfort from the constant presence of the stars streaming by outside her window.  They reminded her how much of the unknown was still out there, waiting to be explored.  If only she could be the one exploring it.

She was not surprised that after seven years on her own, she had to prove herself to Starfleet all over again.  None of her decisions had been judged too harshly by Starfleet Command, but she hadn’t always gone by the book, and several admirals didn’t approve of her cavalier attitude, as they called it.  She suspected that her promotion, while it was an honor, was more of a ploy to keep her under close scrutiny than it was an inclination to grant her greater responsibility.  

Six months in deep space, checking up on worlds that joined the Federation in the wake of the Dominion War was hardly an assignment worthy of her talents.  She felt marginalized, isolated from the real action of negotiating a peace treaty with the Romulans.  But she refused to become discouraged.  Starfleet’s lack of trust only provided her with additional incentive to prove herself.  She had thrown herself into her work with as much zeal as ever, determined that, if she was stuck with deep space diplomatic missions, she was going to demonstrate exactly why this assignment was a waste of her talents.  Once Starfleet Command saw the quality of her work, they would have no choice but to give her something more interesting to do.  At least she hoped so.  She returned to her desk to finish her report.

Once the report was completed, she called up her private messages.  Her work had kept her extremely busy, and she’d had little time for contact with friends and family.  Her access to subspace communication had been limited at best, and she’d had to settle for sending and receiving short messages.  After so many years of not being able to contact them at all, sometimes she had to remind herself to communicate with her mother or Phoebe.  As the years in the Delta Quadrant had gone on, it had become too hard to think of her loved ones all the time, and she had eventually had to let go of them, focusing more and more on her mission.  As much as she was now grateful for the time she had with her family, she’d struggled to get back into the habit of having regular communication with them.

She had a message from her mother in her inbox; she had listened to it the day before but had not yet replied.  A new message from Mark popped up as well.  “Hiya, Kath,” he said in a warm tone.  “How’s deep space treating you?  I’m sure you’re busy as ever out there.  All work, no time for play.  I guess it’s good to know that some things never change.”  He was smiling as he said it, but she couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse at the remark.  “I’m glad you’re making a difference and saving the galaxy and all that.  It makes me feel safer knowing it’s you out there.”  She smiled; leave it to Mark to know exactly what she was frustrated about and make her feel better, even from thousands of light years away.  “Everything is fine here; my work is going well, and I’m speaking to a publisher about a new book tomorrow.  Josh is learning new words every day.  By the time you get back, you’ll be able to have a real conversation with him.  Lisa says you should come for dinner as soon as you’re planet-side.”  He paused to look at her seriously.  Even though it was a recording, she knew that he was picturing the exact expression on her face as he said, “I hope you’re well, Kath.  Take care and be safe out there.”

The transmission ended and Kathryn sat back in her chair, looking at the frozen image of Mark’s face.  She and Mark had been friends since childhood, and even though the news of his marriage to someone else had hurt her, upon her return to Earth, their friendship had grown and strengthened again.  Before her work had taken her away for extended periods of time, she had spent many evenings at Mark’s home with him, his wife Lisa, and their young son Josh.  

Janeway took another sip of her coffee and opened a file to create a new transmission.  It had been on her mind for several days, and now, with the bulk of her assignment completed, she finally had time to compose the message.  “Tuvok,” she said warmly, “my old friend.  I was so pleased to receive the news that your treatment has been a complete success.  I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.  I understand you’re going to move from part-time to full-time at the Vulcan Science Academy now.  I’m sure you’ll have all the students on their toes; they’d better watch out.

“Perhaps when I return from this mission we can arrange to meet in person.  I miss your counsel, and it would be good to see you.  How is your family?  Please give T’Pel and your children and grandchildren my best.  I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch recently.  It’s been difficult to find time to compose a message, and our subspace communication has been spotty.  I think of you often, my friend, and hope that this letter finds you in good spirits.  Janeway out.”  Ending the transmission, Kathryn sat back against her chair, relishing the quiet and sipping her coffee.  She wasn’t feeling cheerful enough to send a message to her mother, so she decided to put off her reply one more day.

It was moments like this that she missed Chakotay the most.  She missed their conversations, their dinners, having him as her sounding board.  In the two years since he had been her first officer, no one had come close to replacing him.  She often bounced ideas off of her sister or her mother, but they were too biased.  Mark was the closest thing she had, but he was wrapped up in his own life and family, and she didn’t want to bother him too often.  

Secretly, she had always harbored the hope that when Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant, things might change between her and Chakotay.  Away from the pressures of their command relationship, away from the daily threat of death, she had thought their friendship could reach its true potential, and maybe even blossom into something more.  She had rarely allowed herself the luxury of such desires, but in those few, quiet, dark nights, alone in her quarters, she had permitted herself to fantasize for a brief moment about the way things might be someday. 

But like most fantasies, things hadn’t turned out the way she had imagined.  The last thing she had expected was to find out from her older self that her first officer was dating her protege, and that they would someday marry.  Hearing this had forced her to acknowledge to herself the fantasies that she had harbored in her heart for years.  She had been more upset than she anticipated at the news of him seeing someone else, but the thing that had stung most was that he hadn’t told her.  She’d finally been the one to confront him about it, about a week after Voyager’s return, near the end of their quarantine.

"Why didn’t you tell me, Chakotay?” she asked, a hard edge to her voice, unable to hide her disappointment in him.

He lowered his eyes.  “I had every intention of telling you, Kathryn.  Please believe that.  It just never seemed like the right moment.”

She turned away from him to look out the window.  “Chakotay, I would never think less of you because you chose to pursue a relationship with someone we both care about a great deal.  I hope you know that.”

“You didn’t trust me,” she stated, turning back to him.  

“It wasn’t about trust, Kathryn.  It was new.  I didn’t want to start any rumors if things were going nowhere.  Now that Seven no longer has the failsafe on her cortical node...”  He stopped abruptly at the look of shock on Janeway’s face.

"What?” she asked, her voice low.

Chakotay gulped.  “I... I... thought you knew.”

Kathryn felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her, and she gripped the back of a chair, her knuckles white.  “I didn’t know.”  She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing a mask of control over her face.  When she spoke, her voice was deadly calm.  “When did this happen?”

“I don’t think it’s really my place to discuss this with you, Kathryn.”

“When did it happen?” she demanded, her voice hard.

“Our last day on Voyager, just before the admiral arrived.  The Doctor was able to do it in a single procedure.”

She began to pace, anger boiling up inside her.  “And no one saw fit to tell me about this?”

“It was Seven’s place to tell you.  The Doctor would have had to observe doctor-patient...”

“To hell with doctor-patient confidentiality!” she interrupted him.  “This is a major procedure that could have impacted the functioning of the ship, and he didn’t even think to consult the captain about when might be a good time to perform such a delicate operation?  Maybe right outside a Borg-infested nebula wasn’t the best time and place.  Did he think of that?  Did she?”  She looked at him accusingly.  “Did you?”

“I didn’t know until after the fact, and that is the truth.”

“I see,” Janeway nodded slowly.  “So she kept you in the dark as well.”

“You can’t blame her, Kathryn.  Her medical decisions are none of our business.  You wanted her to become an individual and take responsibility for herself.  She has.  You wanted her to become fully human; that’s what she’s aspiring to.  Don’t blame her because she didn’t do it on your schedule.”

"That has nothing to do with it,” she snapped, unable to conceal the hurt and anger she felt.  “I would make the same request of any member of my crew, that they consider the well-being of the ship as a whole before they put themselves in a potentially compromised position.”

“Are you really angry because she didn’t follow protocol?” Chakotay asked pointedly.  “Or are you angry because you’re her friend, and she didn’t consult you before she made the decision?”

Janeway crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him, finally releasing the back of the chair.  If he could have seen her eyes, he would have seen tears glistening in them, but he didn’t, and he wasn’t paying attention to her body language at that moment; he was  absorbed in his own anger.  When she spoke, she kept her back to him, and she forced her tone to remain calm.  “I thought that I had gained her trust.  I thought that the bond we created meant more than that to her.  You’re right, I’m angry because she didn’t come to me first, and I’m angry that I allowed myself to trust the way that I did.”  Suddenly, she didn’t know if she was talking about Seven’s trust or his.

“Kathryn...” he started, but he trailed off.

When she turned back to him, the anger had disappeared from her face.  “How long have you been seeing her?”

“We’ve only been on a few dates,” he answered quietly.  “How did you know?”

“The admiral.”

“What did she tell you?”

Kathryn pursed her lips in a thin line and turned away from him to look back at the city.  What could she tell him?  That he and Seven were going to be married?  That her death destroyed him in the other timeline?  Conflict roiled within her and she felt a lump rising in her throat, but then she was struck by a sudden clarity.  For years, Chakotay had put his own feelings aside and had thought first of what was best for her.  Now she had the chance to return the favor.  When she turned again to face him, her features were serene, and she looked at him intently, asking, “Are you happy, Chakotay?”

“Yes.  I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Good,” she replied softly, crossing towards him and perching on the arm of the couch.  “You deserve to be happy.”

He placed his palm on her knee.  “So do you.”

She managed a small smile.  “I am happy, Chakotay.  I kept my promise.  We’re home.”  She put her hand over his and repeated the word, as if saying it again would make it more real.  “Home.”  Then she stood and stepped back, continuing a little too brusquely, “Well, I know you haven’t been informed officially yet, but the quarantine will be lifted tomorrow, and we should both get some rest.  I know I’ll need the energy to face the press, not to mention Aunt Martha.”

He grinned, standing to match her, and offered, “I’ll be right there beside you.”

She felt a pang at the emptiness of his words, but she brushed it off.  “I’m sure after seven years of forging my way through the Delta Quadrant, I can handle a few reporters.”  She stepped towards the exit but hesitated, overwhelmed by the feeling that walking out the door meant closing a chapter of her life forever.  

He caught her just before she left the room.  “Kathryn, I’m... sorry... I didn’t tell you about Seven.  You’re my friend, and I do trust you.  I trust you with my life.”

The expression on her face was gentle, but aloof.  She replied, “Thank you, Chakotay.  That means a great deal to me.  I think you know that I feel the same.”  With that, she turned on her heel and left his quarters.

Kathryn sighed.  Seven had eventually spoken to her about the removal of her failsafe.  By then, Kathryn’s anger had cooled considerably, and the two women were able to maintain a strong friendship.  Her friendship with Chakotay was another matter entirely.   She had hardly seen him in the two years since Voyager’s return, and she hated to think about how much their friendship had suffered.  As she walked to the replicator and recycled her coffee cup, she resolved not to give the matter any further thought.  She had been right; that day had indeed closed a chapter of her life, and there was nowhere to go but forward.

In a Starfleet research laboratory eighty-seven stories above San Francisco, Seven of Nine checked the position of the Midas Array and pressed a sequence of buttons.  As a familiar image appeared on the screen in front of her, she smiled.  

“Seven!” the Talaxian beamed as he greeted her.  “It’s good to see you!”

“And you as well, Neelix.”

“I suppose you want my official report before we get to personal business?”

Seven’s eyes sparkled with barely veiled humor as she replied, “That would be efficient.”

“The Neeri are gone, but we did have some successful trade with them.  Otherwise, the colony is doing well and there’s not much to report.  You?”

“I have no official business from Starfleet to report to you, either.”  Seven paused.  “How is Dexa?”

“She’s just wonderful.”  Neelix grinned.  “Brax is growing up so fast.  In just a couple years he’s going to be done with school altogether.  He’s starting to think about a profession.”

“What is he considering?”

“Well,” Neelix whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “he told me that he wants to become a freighter pilot.  But don’t tell Dexa!  She can’t stand the idea of him leaving home.”

“If I do speak to her, I will neglect to mention it,” said Seven.  “And Alixia?”

If Neelix’s grin could have become any wider, his face would have burst.  He held up a recent holo-image of his young daughter.  “She’s wonderful, Seven.  Every day something new comes out of her mouth!  Why, the other day, Dexa and I were talking about the Alpha Quadrant, and Alixia piped up asking if that was where Mister lived.  It took us the longest time to figure out she was talking about Tuvok.  I guess she heard me call him Mister Vulcan and she thought that Mister was his name.”

Neelix burst out laughing and Seven allowed herself a bemused expression.  “Your daughter makes you very happy,” she observed.  She understood the attachment that humanoids formed to their children on a surface level, but the vast joy that children seemed to bring to their parents remained a mystery to her.  Not having any children of her own and not having many memories of being a child made this relationship very hard for her to understand.

“You know, Seven, I used to wonder if I ever wanted children.  Kes and I talked about it once, a long time ago, and after things didn’t work out with her, I thought maybe it was for the best.  I wasn’t sure I was cut out to be a father.”

“You always had an excellent relationship with the children on Voyager.”

Neelix nodded.  “I did.  And I felt close to Brax the instant that I met him.  Now that Dexa and I have Alixia, well, nothing has ever made me happier!  Every new word she says, every little step she takes - it’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced!”  Neelix paused, knowing they had limited time.  “What about you, Seven?  How’s your love life?”

Seven of Nine raised one eyebrow.  “It is ‘on the back burner,’ as Lieutenant Paris would say.  I have very little time for a social life with all my responsibilities here at Pathfinder.”  She paused, seeing Neelix’s disappointment.  “However, I do have a date tonight.”

Neelix smiled again.  “Seven, that’s wonderful.  I can’t wait to hear all about it!”  

The console in front of Seven beeped.  “We have only thirty seconds remaining.  I will speak to you again tomorrow.  Perhaps we can play a game of kadis-kot.”

“Only if I get to be green!” Neelix joked.  Then his face became serious.  “Seven, I want you to know how much I enjoy talking with you every day.”

“And I you.  Pathfinder out.”  Seven ended the signal a moment before it would have been cut off.  The Midas Array allowed Pathfinder to have daily contact with Neelix, the Federation’s official ambassador to the Delta Quadrant.  So far, most of his “duty” to the Federation had consisted in serving as morale officer to Seven of Nine.

Seven sighed as she tidied the area around her console.  Her daily contact with Neelix reminded her of her life on Voyager, a life which she missed.  There, she had been an integrated part of a group of individuals who cared for her and knew her.  Her life was not the same now that she was on Earth although she maintained close relationships with many of Voyager’s crew.  Once again, she had lost her collective.

She heard the doors to Pathfinder’s astrometrics lab swish open and a familiar voice asked, “H-h-how’s Neelix today?”

She turned around to see Reginald Barclay standing in the doorway.  “He is well, Lieutenant.”

“I’m g-g-glad to hear that.”

“How was your day, Lieutenant Barclay?” she asked.  

“It was fine.”  He paused.  “We think we’re going to be ready to test the new shuttle systems tomorrow.  Commander Harkins wants us all here at 0800.”

“I arrive every day at 0700.  Tomorrow will be no exception.”

“Of c-c-course,” Barclay replied.

Seven eyed the awkward man with compassion.  She knew that her presence intimidated him, and she did everything she could to be non-threatening.  She never ridiculed him for his awkwardness.  She knew better than anyone how unpleasant social situations could be, and she had developed affection for Barclay over the course of their time together.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “tomorrow is going to be a long day.  We should all go home.”

“I need to complete one set of calculations, and then I will leave.”

“Oh, all right.”  Barclay paused again.  “Seven, would you like to join me for dinner tonight?”

“I already have plans,” she said, absorbed in her work.  But something made her look up and see the disappointed expression on her colleague’s face.  “But perhaps another time.”

At this suggestion, Barclay’s expression brightened.  “That s-s-sounds great, S-s-seven.  Have a good night!”

“Good evening,” she replied as Barclay exited the room, and she returned to her calculations.  She enjoyed her work at Pathfinder.  Officially, she was assigned to the project as a liaison with extensive knowledge about the Delta Quadrant its species.  The knowledge she retained from her Borg days was an unparalleled resource for Starfleet.  Most people, even her former crew mates from Voyager, assumed that this was the extent of her work.  Only a handful of people knew the truth.

Officially, Pathfinder had continued to function as the Federation’s liaison with the Delta Quadrant, communicating daily with Ambassador Neelix and monitoring activities across the galaxy using technology very much like that of Voyager’s astrometrics lab.  However, Starfleet used Pathfinder as a front for a far more dangerous and important project, a project headed by Seven of Nine.  On Voyager, she had begun to find uses for Borg technology and had combined her knowledge with that of the Starfleet engineers to create innovative solutions for problems.  Here at Pathfinder, she did the same, but with a single goal in mind: to be able to defeat the Borg should they ever reach the Alpha Quadrant again.  

“Analysis complete,” the computer said.

Seven looked at the results of the analysis; they were very positive.  She encrypted them and transferred them to a PADD which she left in her office.  She didn’t anticipate any prying eyes, but she encrypted all information related to this particular project just to be safe.  The shuttle design that she was working on with Barclay was coming along nicely, but Seven planned to make some special modifications that even Starfleet didn’t know about yet, nor were they likely to approve.  However, they had tasked her with designing a shuttle that could evade the Borg, and that was what she was going to do, with or without their permission. Seven glanced at the chronometer and realized she was running late.  She had to go home and get ready for her date.

Chapter Text

2

Let There Be Laughter

        "And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
        For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed."
                        -Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

A gentle wind rustled the dense, green foliage as a small boy emerged from under a bush, covered in dirt, wearing a playful grin on his face.  “Ikan!” Chakotay exclaimed, feigning shock.  “There you are!”  The little boy giggled and disappeared back under the bush, and Chakotay began to walk around the clearing.  “Now where could Ikan be?” he asked, loudly enough for the boy to hear.  “I don’t see him anywhere!  He’s not behind this tree.  He’s not in this puddle.”  Chakotay pretended to search but purposefully avoided the bush where he knew the child was hiding.

Suddenly, he heard a rustle, and the boy emerged, even dirtier than before.  “Peek-a-boo!” the child squealed.  Before he could disappear again, Chakotay grabbed him and flung him up in the air, an activity which delighted Ikan.  “Again!  Again!” the three-year-old demanded.  Smiling, Chakotay flung the boy in the air again, catching him in his strong arms.  Another rustle in the bushes behind them made Chakotay turn around.

“There you are!” Sekaya exclaimed as she emerged into the clearing.

“Mommy!” Ikan cried, and immediately started to squirm.  Chakotay put him down and let him run to his mother.

“Ikan, you’re a mess,” she admonished, picking him up.  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.  It’s almost time for Uncle Chakotay to leave.”

“Leave?” the boy asked, perplexed.

“Yes, sweetheart.  He has to go home to Earth.”

“Ert?”

Chakotay and Sekaya laughed.  “Earth,” she corrected her son.  

The boy puzzled over this for a moment and then said definitively, “Ert.”

Chakotay grinned at his sister.  “We had to get in one last game of hide and seek.”

They reached the house and Chakotay followed Sekaya inside, past the kitchen, to Ikan’s bedroom, where she changed the child’s muddy clothes and threw them in the refresher.  As she attempted to control the unruly boy, Sekaya looked up at her big brother.  “It’s been nice having you here.”

“It’s been nice to visit.”

“Hold still, Ikan.”  She pulled a fresh shirt over the child’s head.  “Have you ever thought about moving back to Trebus, Chakotay?”

Chakotay grimaced; he should have seen this coming, but it was not a topic he relished.  “You know I can’t do that, Sekaya.  I wish I could see you and Ikan more often, but what would I do here?”

“There’s plenty of work to go around.”  The boy was dressed in clean clothes and Sekaya patted him on the head, encouraging him to go and play with his toys.

“I’m finally getting a chance to do the kind of work I’ve always dreamed of doing, at the Academy.  Surely you can understand that.”

Sekaya moved into the kitchen and motioned for her brother to follow her.  She put water on the stove for tea as she admitted, “I do understand, Chakotay.  But you could do archaeological research here.”

“It’s not just the research.  It’s the teaching.  I enjoy working with the students.  And I teach more than just archaeology.  For the first time in my life, I get to do everything I want to do.”

Sekaya looked at her brother doubtfully.  “Everything?”

He lowered his eyes.  “Well, professionally, I mean.”

Sekaya put her hand on her brother’s arm, encouraging him to look up and meet her gaze.  “What about the rest of life, Chakotay?  I know you want more than your work.”

He shrugged.  “That will come when and if it’s meant to.”

“But don’t you think that if you lived somewhere like Trebus or Dorvan, you’d be more likely to...”

“Sekaya,” he cut her off with a warning tone, “I’m not leaving the Academy.  It’s not up for discussion.”

“Okay, okay.  I’m just looking out for you, big brother.”

“I know.  And I appreciate that.”

She took a deep breath, and Chakotay could tell she was about to launch in on another touchy subject.  “So with all this great work that you’re doing for

The teapot whistled and Chakotay watched Sekaya pour two cups of tea, her long, black hair flowing down her back.  Motherhood suited her well, and Ikan was a beautiful boy, with the same dark hair and brown eyes as his mother and uncle.  Ikan’s father had been a member of the Maquis and had fought to defend Trebus alongside Kolopak.  He and Sekaya had been involved during the Dominion War and had planned to marry when the war ended.  Unbeknownst to her, he had left a provision in his will that in the case of his death, some of his DNA be preserved for her.  They had dreamed of having a family together, and he had wanted to make that possible for her even if he was killed.  Sekaya had waited to make a decision for as long as possible, and it had been several years since her lover’s death when she became pregnant by him.  She named the boy Ikan, an ancient Mayan word for “star,” because, she told him, that’s where his father was - in the stars.

“Chakotay!”  His sister’s voice snapped him back to the present and he turned to look at her.  She was looking at him expectantly, extending a steaming cup of tea in front of his face.

“Sorry.”  The warm cup felt good in his hands, and the tea smelled of cinnamon and orange blossoms.

“I asked you when Starfleet is going to get it through their heads that you deserve a promotion.”

“I don’t know, Sekaya.  You know that the deal was that we’d be pardoned, but would be granted our field commissions and nothing else for the foreseeable future.”

Sekaya narrowed her eyes.  “Don’t they realize that being stranded across the galaxy from your friends and loved ones was punishment enough?”

“We had to compromise somehow.  Starfleet couldn’t appear willing to pardon us completely while the other Maquis continue to sit in Federation prisons.”

“The Maquis shouldn’t still be in Federation prisons,” his sister argued with a scowl.  “We’ve all been punished enough, and you, my brother, deserve to be recognized for what you are, a perfectly capable captain.”

Despite the serious tone of the conversation, Chakotay couldn’t keep a smile from his lips.  “You’re biased.”  She rewarded him with a glare, and he threw up his hands.  “I don’t know, Sekaya.  Rank isn’t all that important to me; you know that.  I don’t think I’ll be stuck as a commander forever if that makes you feel better.  Before she left, Kathryn said...”  Chakotay cut off abruptly and looked at the floor, avoiding his sister’s curious gaze.  

Sekaya placed her hands on her hips and looked at her brother sternly.  “Kathryn said what?”

“Before she left, Kathryn intimated that there were certain admirals who were already vying for my promotion.”

“I’m sure that she was one of them,” Sekaya offered.

“I’m sure she was.”

Sekaya studied her brother over the rim of her teacup.  In his letters from Voyager, Chakotay had mentioned Kathryn frequently.  Although he had never said anything to confirm it, she was certain that her brother’s feelings for Voyager’s captain ran far deeper than the simple friendship he claimed.  But once the ship had returned to Earth, he had barely mentioned Janeway, and at a certain point, he had stopped speaking her name altogether.  This wasn’t like Chakotay, and Sekaya was determined to understand what had happened.  “Why don’t you like to talk about her?”

“I haven’t seen Kathryn Janeway in over a year,” he replied, avoiding her gaze.  “We haven’t spoken once in the six months that she’s been gone on her deep space mission, not even a recorded message.”  He paused and looked up.  “I think that I disappointed her.  I never wanted to hurt her, but after what happened, I guess we just grew apart.  Sometimes, that’s the natural course of things.”  He took a deep breath.  “I have a good life, Sekaya.  There’s no reason to look backwards.”

“What did happen?”

Chakotay reached out and cupped his sister’s cheek in his hand, his eyes full of emotion.  “I’ll tell you another time, okay, little sister?”

She gave him a reassuring smile, taking his hand from her cheek and holding it in her own.  “Okay.”  She glanced at the chronometer.  “Come on.  We better get you to the transport station.”  She turned and called down the hallway.  “Ikan!  Come here!  We need to put your shoes on.”

As the boy came bounding down the hallway, skidding to a stop directly in front of his mother and uncle, Chakotay couldn’t help but smile.  He had meant what he had said to Sekaya about continuing his work at the Academy, but he knew he was going to miss his family terribly.

As he sat on the transport and watched Trebus become a tiny dot out his window, Chakotay thought back to his conversation with his sister.  Why didn’t he like to talk about Kathryn?  Or, more to the point, why didn’t he want to think about her?  He wasn’t sure he could explain it.  They had grown apart during the final year of Voyager’s journey, and the incidents with Teero and Quarra had strained their friendship.  Frustrated and lonely, he had turned away from her and sought companionship elsewhere.  Now he realized what a mistake that had been.  Not only had he made a fool of himself, but he had damaged his friendship with Kathryn, perhaps irreparably so.  Even though he and Seven were now on good terms, he felt nothing but shame when he thought of their romance.  Looking back, it seemed so obvious how things would end, and he felt like an idiot for not having realized it sooner.  

He had planned a candlelit dinner, and Seven was due to arrive any moment.  In the six months of their relationship, she had never once been late.  However, in the six months of their relationship, Chakotay had never been as anxious for her to arrive as he was tonight.  He felt butterflies in his stomach and shook his head, bemused.  You’re forty-nine years old, and you’re acting like a teenager, he chided himself.  Recently, Seven had seemed a little distant, but they had both been busy and hadn’t been able to spend much time together.  That was about to change.

Chakotay sighed contentedly.  He had everything he wanted: a beautiful woman who adored him, an exciting and fulfilling career, friends and family just a comm signal away, and a fabulous apartment in the heart of San Francisco.  His life was perfect.  He never would have thought, when he had met Seven of Nine, that she would become such an important person in his life.      

The door chimed, and Chakotay answered it to find his beautiful Seven, but as he moved to kiss her, he stopped.  She was wearing one of the tight-fitting jumpsuits that she wore to work, and they had decided long ago that they wouldn’t wear their work clothes on dates.  He guessed that she had not had time to change before coming over.  “Busy day?” he asked as he gave her a quick peck on the lips.

“Yes,” she replied, extending a small bouquet of sunflowers to him.  “I brought these for you.”

“Thank you.”  He took the flowers from her and stepped back to study her; work clothes or not, she was beautiful.  He looked into her eyes, and although he felt an uneasiness in his stomach, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “You know, I really love you.”

She studied him for a moment before responding slowly, “I... love you too.”  She slipped past him.  “The flowers require water.  Let me get a vase.”  She knew where everything was in his kitchen, and she quickly found a vase and filled it with water, taking the flowers from him and arranging them with precision.

“How was your day?” he asked as he dished up the Asian noodles he had made.

“My day was efficient.  My research is progressing at an acceptable rate.”

“That’s good.”  He brought their food to the table and poured them each some sparkling cider, which they substituted for wine due to Seven’s low tolerance for alcohol.  Seven remained standing, and she seemed uncomfortable.  Chakotay’s stomach tightened further, but he ignored it, not understanding the source of his unease.  Seven seemed to realize that her standing was causing him discomfort, and she sat down.  Chakotay did not touch his food; he gazed at his girlfriend intently, focused on what he had planned to say.  “Seven, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”  He didn’t understand why his saying this made her look even more uncomfortable.  “Is something wrong?”

“Chakotay,” she said carefully, “there’s something I would like to talk to you about as well.”

“All right.”  The discomfort in the pit of his stomach grew.  “You go first.”

“No, please.  I interrupted you.”

Confusion permeated his features; Seven had never behaved this way towards him in the six months they had been dating, and while he didn’t know what to make of it, he plunged ahead with everything he had planned to say.  “Seven, I think you know that you’re very special to me, and I love every minute we’re together.  When we first came back, I said I wanted to be within transporter range of you, but recently, it’s been hard to spend time together.  We both have very busy work schedules, and I understand and respect how important your job is to you, as mine is to me.  I think it would be easier for us to spend time together if we came home to the same place every night.”  He spoke in fits and starts, tripping over his words.  “I know that you still need to regenerate in your alcove every night, but, well, I’d love it if you regenerated here.”

Seven stared at him, trying to comprehend the meaning behind his speech.  His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her to respond.  Finally, she said, “You are asking me to move in with you.”

“Yes.  Please.”  Seven took a slow bite of her dinner and a sip of her beverage, and said nothing.  “Well?” Chakotay asked.  “What do you think?”

“I am uncertain how to proceed.”

“Oh.”  The disappointment was evident in his voice.  “I don’t want to push you.  I’m comfortable with the way things are now.”

“I’m not.”

Chakotay stared across the table in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

Seven flushed and looked down at her napkin.  “Chakotay, I do not believe that we should continue our relationship.”

Chakotay blinked.  Had he heard her correctly?  “What?”

“I have concluded that we desire different outcomes from this relationship.  Therefore, it is unwise to pursue it further.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded.  He felt as if she had suddenly turned into an alien, as if she were speaking a language that he didn’t understand or as if the universal translator had suddenly stopped functioning.  “What are you talking about?” he blurted.

“You desire a family, a permanent relationship.  You want someone to ‘come home to’ every night.  I am not prepared for that type of liaison.  This is the only romantic relationship I have ever had.  I don’t know if that’s what I want.  I don’t know if that’s what I want with you.”

“Seven, I’m sorry if I’m moving too fast.  I know I told you I wouldn’t do that, and here I am, asking you to move in.  That was stupid of me.  I shouldn’t have said it.  I’m sorry.”  He reached for her hand across the table.

She withdrew her hand, shaking her head.  “You are attempting to bargain or compromise.  I know that this frequently happens when one party wishes to end the relationship and the other party resists.”

Chakotay couldn’t believe what he was hearing - neither the words, nor the clinical detachment with which they were spoken.  “I’ve spent the last two weeks working up the courage to ask you to move in, and you’re breaking up with me?”

Seven didn’t look at him when she answered, “Yes.”

He circled around the table, kneeling down in front of her and taking her hands in his.  “Give me a chance to make this up to you.  I promise I won’t push for more than you’re ready for.  I don’t want to lose you, Seven.  I don’t want to lose what we have together.”

“Chakotay,” she replied, pulling her hand from his and cupping his cheek, “our association has been invaluable to me.  You have taught me a great deal about romantic relationships, and I will never be able to adequately express my gratitude to you.  But over the past few weeks, it has become clear to me that you are certain about wanting to be with me, and I do not feel the same way about you.  I have learned a great deal about dating from our relationship, and I’m anxious to apply my knowledge to other situations.  It would not be appropriate for us to continue.”

Chakotay stepped away from her, breaking the physical contact, anger beginning to boil inside of him.  “Is that all this was to you?  I was your guinea pig, so you could learn about human relationships?  You tried out all your tactics on me so that you can go apply them to some other guy?”  

Seven stood, as if to follow him, but only took one step.  “Chakotay, I didn’t mean...”

He didn’t let her finish.  “This was all some sort of big experiment to you, wasn’t it?  Did you ever really give a damn about me?”

“I care for you a great deal,” Seven replied in a soft tone that calmed Chakotay’s anger.  “But I care for you as a friend.  I said earlier that I love you, and that was not a deception.  I do.  But I do not believe that I am in love with you.  The only other experience I have with romance was with Axum, in Unimatrix Zero, but that was a fantasy world.  Chakotay, I don’t even know what it means to be in love.  You do.  You’ve experienced it before; I haven’t.  I don’t know if love is what I have with you.  I don’t know if what I have with you is what I want.”

“I’m willing to wait while you figure it out,” he replied gently.

She shook her head.  “You are too generous.  I believe that in order to discover what I want, I need to have other experiences, with other men.”

“You said that this is what you wanted,” he accused her.  “You led me to believe...”

She held up a hand, interrupting him this time.  “I said many things which I am no longer certain are true, and for that, I apologize.”  She paused, and he saw a momentary flash of pain cross her face; it was the first sign of emotion she had exhibited during the entire conversation.  “It was never my intention to hurt you, Chakotay.”

He placed his hands low on his hips, his gaze tilting towards the floor, and took a deep breath.  He reminded himself that Seven had no experience with this type of situation.  He pushed down his anger and his sadness, realizing that right now, he needed to be compassionate and strong for her.  He had promised himself that he would care for her under any circumstances, and, instinctively, he knew he would regret it if he unleashed his fury on her now.  “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” he finally asked.  “We can’t go back from this, Seven.  If you walk away from this now, our relationship is over.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide, and he saw a true vulnerability there for the first time that evening.  “I had hoped that we would be able to remain friends.  I value your perspective, and I enjoy our conversations.  I would like that aspect of our relationship to continue.”

The open, vulnerable expression on her face was the one that he could never resist, and he took a step towards her.  “Seven,” he said quietly, “I’d like that too... eventually.  But being able to ‘just be friends’ is going to take me some time.”

Her face showed genuine confusion.  “Why?”

In spite of the agony that was coursing through him, Chakotay couldn’t stop one corner of his mouth from turning up in a smile.  He took another step towards her and took her hands in his; this time, she did not withdraw.  “What we’ve shared for the past six months has been very special to me.  I’ve fallen in love with you, and I can’t just go back to being friends overnight.  If we spend time together, I’m going to want it to be like this.”  He let her hands go and gestured to their romantic surroundings.  “It’s going to take me some time to get used to the idea that it’s not like that anymore.”

“I believe I understand.  You need time to adjust to the new parameters of our relationship.”

Her use of the word “parameters” made Chakotay wince, although Seven couldn’t have known why.  “Yes,” he finally replied.  “That’s it.”

Seven moved towards the table.  “Would you like to eat?” she asked.

Chakotay looked at her incredulously.  “Seven, I think that you should go now.”  His tone was gentle but firm, and he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to maintain his self-control.  She looked up at him in confusion again.  “I’d like to be alone,” he explained, his voice wavering.  He clenched his jaw, holding down his emotions, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Very well,” Seven responded.  She moved towards the door, but turned back to him before exiting.  “Chakotay, thank you... for everything.”

He nodded, unable to reply as he watched her exit his apartment.  In one swift motion, he picked up her still full glass from the table and flung it against the wall, watching it shatter into a million pieces as he let out a guttural yell.  For a long time, he stood there, watching the sticky liquid drip down the wall, his body shaking with rage as he blinked back tears.

“The duration of this flight will be four hours twenty three minutes,” the transport’s computer announced, pulling Chakotay out of his reverie.  “For connecting flight information, please check the access panel in front of your seat.”  

With a sigh, Chakotay sat back in his chair and pulled out a PADD.  He wanted to get his thoughts away from the past.  It had been over a year since their breakup, and he and Seven had settled into a comfortable friendship.  They didn’t see each other often, but he knew that she would be there for him if he needed her, and she knew that the same was true for him.  The real casualty of his romance with Seven had been his friendship with Kathryn, and that thought pained him more than remembering the night Seven had left him.  He rarely thought of his former captain, but his conversation with Sekaya had forced him to realize how much he missed her.  He wondered if they would ever be able to regain the close friendship they had once shared.  He activated the PADD, forcing the memories to the back of his mind, and began to read.  Perhaps focusing on his research would pull his mind out of a past he didn’t want to remember.

B’Elanna Torres entered the small home she shared with her husband and their daughter on Mars.  A few months after Voyager’s return, she and Tom had both taken assignments at Utopia Planetia.  Tom worked as a test pilot while B’Elanna was in charge of refitting Voyager.  She smelled dinner and smiled.  Tom had made her favorite: fried chicken with potato salad.  She hung up her coat by the door, and as soon as she had done so, she heard, “Mama!”  She watched with amusement as her daughter stumbled down the hallway, arms outstretched.  B’Elanna picked the girl up and pulled her into a ferocious hug.

“Hi, baby.  Mama missed you today.”

“Aw, Mama,” the two year old said with imitated compassion, “you have a rough day?”  At this point, Tom was standing at the end of the hallway, watching the two of them, and B’Elanna looked up at him.  Unable to contain themselves, they both burst out laughing.

“My day was fine, sweetheart,” Torres replied, putting her daughter down.  “Go play for a while before dinner.”  The girl waddled off to the living area, where, B’Elanna was sure, toys were strewn everywhere.  She approached her husband and pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss.  “You’re home early.”

He shrugged.  “The commander decided to send us home for the day.  All we had left was a big project that’s going to take several hours, and he wanted us to be fresh to start tomorrow.”

“Thanks for making dinner.”  B’Elanna went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine.

“So did you have a rough day?” her husband asked.

“A little,” she admitted.  “I almost punched Vorik in the nose a couple times.”

“It’s a miracle that you two have been able to work together for the past nine years without killing each other.”

“He likes to remind me that technically, he outranks me now, even though I’m the engineer in charge of the project.  He uses it as an excuse to dig up all kinds of protocol that we never followed on Voyager.”

Tom grinned.  “I’m sure that to Vorik, it’s only logical.”

“Damn Vulcans,” B’Elanna growled.  “When is Starfleet going to see that I’m just as valuable to them as he is?  They put me in charge of the damn project, but then they refuse to offer me a promotion.  It doesn’t make any sense.”

Tom began to massage his wife’s shoulders.  “You’re right, it doesn’t.  We’ve been through this a thousand times, B’Elanna, and it doesn’t change anything.  I’m in the same boat as you, stuck as a lieutenant until Starfleet brass decides we’ve paid our dues.”

“Everyone knows it’s a political maneuver, and if everyone knows that’s all it is, why struggle to keep up appearances?”

Tom shrugged.  “That’s what politicians do.”  He took the wine glass out of her hand and wrapped his arms around her, holding her until she relaxed against him.  “How is the project coming along?”

B’Elanna broke away from the embrace.  “I spoke to Tuvok today.  They made a major breakthrough at the Science Institute with the slipstream drive.  I think that Voyager will be ready to fly again sooner than we thought.”

Tuvok had been working on the problem of the slipstream drive with a group of scientists at the Vulcan Science Institute.  “Damn Vulcans, huh?” Tom asked, reminding his wife of her earlier statement.

She gave him an annoyed look.  “Well, Tuvok is an exception, sometimes.”

They heard the patter of little feet as Miral made her way into the kitchen.  “Up, Daddy!  Up!” she demanded.  

Tom reached down and picked up his daughter.  “I think we’re going to be ready to test the new Flyer by the end of the week.”

“That’s great, Tom!” B’Elanna replied as she brought their food to the table.  Tom settled Miral in her high chair, and, just as they sat down to dinner, the door chimed.  Husband and wife exchanged a puzzled glance.  “Who could that be?” B’Elanna asked.

“I’ll go check.”  Tom went to the door, and a moment later, B’Elanna heard a familiar voice from down the hall.

“I’m not catching you at a bad time, am I?”

B’Elanna jumped up from her chair and rushed to the door.  “Harry!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms around him in a hug.  “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Kim replied, taking off his coat, “I have a couple days of shore leave before we head out on our next mission.  I thought I owed my old friends a visit.”

“Old, huh?” B’Elanna teased.

Tom sized up his old friend and said, “Okay, Harry, let’s see.”

“See what?” Kim asked innocently.

Tom took his hand and forced Harry’s chin to one side.  “Lieutenant Commander Kim.  Very nice, Harry.”

“Just think, Tom,” B’Elanna joked, “we used to outrank him.”

Harry, who had been blushing from their praise, suddenly became serious.  “You still should.”

“I don’t know, Harry,” replied Tom.  “Not everyone can be Starfleet’s golden boy.”

They had remained in the entryway, and suddenly they heard a loud cry from the next room.  B’Elanna rushed back to the table and lifted her daughter into her arms, comforting her.  “It’s all right, sweetheart.  Mama’s right here.  We just had to go into the other room for a minute.  But look!  We brought a surprise for you!”

As Harry stepped around the corner, Miral’s cries turned into a squeal of joy as she launched herself from her mother’s arms.  “Uncle Arry!”  

Harry took the squirming child.  “Hi!” he exclaimed, as Miral placed a big, sloppy, wet, open-mouthed kiss on his cheek.  “She’s getting so big!”

“I know.  Can you believe it?” B’Elanna replied as Harry handed Miral back to her.

“We’re just about to eat, Harry.  Sit down, join us.  Tell us about life in the big leagues,” said Tom as they all sat down and passed around the fried chicken, potato salad and warm biscuits.

“Yeah, Starfleet, tell us what’s it like, serving on the Federation flagship,” B’Elanna added.

“Well I feel almost as intimidated by Captain Picard as I was by Captain Janeway at the beginning.”  Paris and Torres chuckled; they both remembered how unsure of himself Harry had been when they first met him.  “The crew is nice.  I think I’m up for the challenge.”

“From what I hear, you’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill,” B’Elanna said as she placed a small serving of potato salad on Miral’s tray.

Kim nodded, chewing on his chicken.  “Commander Data was chief operations officer on the Enterprise for sixteen years.  There’s no way I can ever fill his shoes.  Fortunately for me, there’s been a lot of changeover in the crew recently.  I’m not the only new kid on the block.  Commander Madden, the first officer, is new, too.”

“Of course,” B’Elanna mused, “now that Riker is captain of the Titan.”

“Did you ever find out what made Picard request you?” asked Tom.  

“I guess he heard about some of my more innovative moves on the Challenger, which made him review my service record from Voyager.”  Harry paused a moment, taking a bite of potato salad before he added, “I bet that Admiral Janeway had something to do with it, too.”

“I’m sure she put in a good word for you, Harry,” Tom said, patting his friend on the back.  

“What about you guys?”  Kim asked.  “How’s life on Mars?”

“The colony is all right,” said B’Elanna.  “There aren’t many other Klingons here, and I’m hoping that before Miral gets much older, we can move somewhere that’s a little more diverse.”  

Miral, hearing her name, banged on the tray of her high chair.  “More!” she demanded.

“What do you say?” B’Elanna asked.

“Please?” said the child obediently.  B’Elanna nodded and gave her daughter more potato salad and some small pieces of chicken.

“The work is great,” Tom put in.  “I love being a test pilot.”

Harry smiled.  “You get to play Captain Proton every day.”

“Exactly,” B’Elanna agreed.  “He thinks it’s all play while some of us are doing the hard work.”  

“And how’s Voyager?”

“Starfleet nearly destroyed her with all that research on her Borg systems and the technology from the future, but some of that technology has been integrated into her systems permanently now, and she should be ready to fly again in a week or two.  Tuvok is going to captain the test run.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Tom said.

“I didn’t get the chance.  If I recall correctly, someone interrupted our conversation.”  She gave a sidelong glance in their daughter’s direction.

“That’s great news, B’Elanna!” Kim exclaimed.  “I wish I could be here for that, but we’ll be long gone by then.”      

“That’s okay, Harry,” said Tom.  “We’ll take a holoimage and send it to you.  That is, if you have time to look at it while you’re out there saving the galaxy alongside the great Captain Jean-Luc Picard.”

“Tom, I thought it was Captain Proton who was going to save the galaxy.”

“Oh, it is.  Just you wait.  Captain Proton, Captain Kirk, Captain Picard and Admiral Janeway... the saviors of the universe.”  

At that precise moment, Miral flung a piece of potato salad across the room that landed squarely on her father’s face.  Tom was about to get angry, but then he looked over and saw the giggle about to emerge from his daughter’s lips.  He realized that his wife and best friend were barely managing to contain themselves, and they all burst out laughing.

Chapter Text

3

Right in Front of You

“Droit devant soi on ne peut pas aller bien loin.”
    -Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Le Petit Prince

As she stepped onto the promenade at Deep Space Nine, Kathryn Janeway felt an eerie sense of deja vu.  The last time she had stood in this spot had been nine years earlier, right before Voyager’s fateful first mission.  As she surveyed the scene before her, Kathryn couldn’t help but feel as though she had been transported back in time to a moment right before her life had changed forever.  She often thought that if she had to name a single day that had affected her life more than any other, it would be the day that she set out from this station with orders to capture a Maquis criminal.

Images from the last time she had stood on the promenade flashed before her.  She smiled as she remembered the story of a certain young ensign nearly hoodwinked into buying some worthless memento from the Ferengi bartender.  As she looked down at Quark’s Bar, she could almost see the figure of a very young, very green Harry Kim and a very young, very cocky Tom Paris coming to his rescue.  She was lost in her reverie as she turned and collided head-on with a form clad in brown.  “I’m sorry,” she began to apologize, raising her eyes to see who she had so rudely bumped into, “I wasn’t paying atten...”  

She stopped short as she found herself looking up into the familiar deep brown eyes of her former first officer, and her breath caught in her throat with a small gasp.  It seemed like an eternity that they stood staring at each other, dumbfounded.  The only word she could find was, “Chakotay.”

He stood there a moment longer before he regained the power of speech.  Of all the people he could have run into on Deep Space Nine, it would have to be the woman he hadn’t seen in a year, hadn’t spoken to in six months and had tried so desperately to get out of his life and out of his mind.  It would have to be the woman whose name he had refused to speak, but now he said it, and he was astonished by the ease with which it fell off his tongue.  “Kathryn.”  

“What are you doing here?  I thought you were teaching at the Academy.”

“I am.  I had a couple weeks leave so I went to visit Sekaya on Trebus.  I’m headed back to Earth on the next transport.  What about you?  I thought you were in deep space.”

“I was, until today.  I’m traveling on the Lakota.  We’re picking up some delegates for a symposium, dropping them off at Starbase 621 and then heading back to Earth as well.”

Chakotay glanced at his chronometer and then down at her.  She looked good.  She had gained a little weight since their days on Voyager, which probably meant she had been eating decent meals.  She had kept her hair short, and although he had loved it long, he thought the bob suited her.  Her grey-blue eyes looked up at him, so familiar and yet still such a mystery, even after all these years.  There was something hidden in them, something neither he nor anyone else was allowed to see.  While this had repelled some and caused others to call her an ice queen, it had drawn him in from the moment he met her.  He wanted to discover that piece of Kathryn Janeway that was so personal and, he suspected, so passionate, that she kept it hidden from the world.  Right now, she was looking up at him expectantly, and he realized that she was waiting for him to speak.  “I have an hour or two before my transport.  Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

She gave him a lopsided smile.  “You know I’ll never turn down a cup of coffee.”  

He returned her smile, unable to help himself, and although he had feared that an encounter between them would be incredibly awkward, it felt perfectly natural for her to take his arm as he escorted her from the promenade down to Quark’s Bar.  In fact, everything between them, save the first moment, had felt perfectly natural.  He wondered why he had thought that it could ever be otherwise.

As they sat down at the bar, a Ferengi approached them.  “What can I get for the two of you this afternoon?  I have some excellent Romulan Ale hiding behind the bar here somewhere.”    

“Coffee, black,” Janeway ordered.

“And I’ll have an herbal tea,” said Chakotay.

Quark scowled.  “I’d think that after seven years in the Delta Quadrant you two would want something stronger.”  

Janeway and Chakotay exchanged a glance.  “I guess our reputation precedes us,” she said.  Quark brought their drinks, and Chakotay paid the bill.  Janeway took a sip of her coffee, evaluating its quality.  She saw Chakotay looking at her, and she smiled.  “It’s good.”

“I’m glad.  I’d hate to think that I was responsible for Kathryn Janeway drinking bad coffee.”

She held the mug between both hands, enjoying its warmth and looking down at its contents rather than up at her companion, whose eyes, she knew, hadn’t left her since the moment they had so inelegantly collided.  “How have you been, Chakotay?”

“I’m well, Kathryn.”  After all these months of not speaking her name, he suddenly savored the sensation of it on his tongue.  “I’m teaching advanced tactics and a new course called Delta Quadrant studies.  And in exchange for teaching a basic tactics course, I also get to teach anthropology and spend some time on my own research.”

“That must be very fulfilling,” she said, still not looking at him.  She felt his large, strong hand on her shoulder and she closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the contact before turning to look at him.  “I’m happy for you.”

His eyes bore into her and, as much as she wanted to, she was unable to tear her gaze away from his.  She knew that he was doing what he had always done, trying to see past the front she presented to the person she really was.  “And you, Kathryn?” he asked softly.  “Are you happy?”

She had planned, whenever she saw him, to tell him how happy she was, how fulfilling it was to be an admiral, how being home and working directly for Starfleet gave her everything she’d always wanted.  But when he asked her the question, she forgot every answer she had planned, and instead said, “I try not to think about that question.”  She expected to see surprise on his face, but only saw attentiveness and support.  It was the same way he had looked at her for nine years.  It was the look that had engendered her trust at their first meeting, and it was the look that made her trust him now.  “I was flattered by this promotion when it was offered to me, don’t get me wrong.  I didn’t feel I could turn it down.  Admiral Nechayev told me how much I deserved it and how Starfleet wanted to honor the captain who brought Voyager home.  I wanted so badly to believe that was true that I didn’t consider that Starfleet Command might have ulterior motives.”

“I know about wanting to believe something is true,” Chakotay said with a twinge of melancholy.  

Kathryn placed one hand over his, squeezing gently.  The touch of his skin on hers warmed her instantly, and she ran her fingers across his rougher, stronger hand.  “The longer I hold this rank,” she went on, “the more I think that what Starfleet really wanted was to get me out of their way.”

Chakotay chuckled, and she removed her hand from his as he reached for his tea.  “Surely the admiralty knows better than to try that with Kathryn Janeway.”

“Apparently not.  I just spent six months in deep space, serving as a diplomatic liaison to races that constantly fawn over me in hopes that it will gain them some standing with the Federation.  That’s what they think I’m worth?”

“I doubt it has anything to do with worth, Kathryn.  It probably has more to do with politics.”

“I know that, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.  I think that after the other Admiral Janeway proved herself to be such a maverick, Starfleet doesn’t want to take any chances with me.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m hoping that my success on my most recent mission will prove to them that I can be trusted.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Janeway shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t thought about that yet.”

“All right.”  He accepted this and paused to sip his tea.  “What about your personal life?  Anything to tell?”

“During a deep space mission?”  She gave him a wry glance.

He shrugged.  “You might have met someone before you left.  I haven’t seen you for over a year.”  He immediately regretted saying this; he hadn’t meant to cast blame on her, but he realized afterwards that was how it had sounded, and he saw sadness in her eyes.  “I’m...  I’m sorry,” he stammered.  “I didn’t mean to...  I should have contacted you.  I shouldn’t have...”

She held up a hand, stopping him.  “Chakotay, it’s all right.  Our lack of communication is as much my fault as it is yours.  We both probably should have done certain things differently, but we didn’t, and we can’t go back and change the past now.”

“Not again, anyway,” he said with a grin.  “That certainly wouldn’t be the way to ingratiate yourself to Starfleet.”

“Right,” she replied with a small smile as the awkwardness of the moment vanished.

Chakotay glanced at his chronometer and looked at her apologetically.  “I have to run.  My transport is leaving soon.”

“That’s all right.  I need to get back to the Lakota anyway.”  She gestured to her empty cup.  “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.  I mean that, Kathryn.  I don’t know why I let myself go for so long without seeing you.”

“We’ve both been busy.”  She brushed the comment aside, pretending it held no importance to her, and she slid off her bar stool.  For an awkward moment, they stood there, inches from each other, but not touching, until she reached out and placed her hand on his chest.  “It was good to see you, Chakotay.  I’m glad that you’re well.”

“Kathryn...” he began, but she removed her hand.

“You’d better get going.  You don’t want to miss your transport.”

“Kathryn, I was wondering if I could call you when we both get back to Earth.  I’d like to...  I mean, I don’t want a whole other year to go by before I see you again.”

“I’d enjoy that, Chakotay,” she said.  “And I agree.  A year is far too long.”

He felt as though his feet were frozen to the floor.  He wanted to embrace her, but he remained at arm’s length.  “Safe journey.”

She cocked her head to the side a little in that way she did when she was feeling emotional but wasn’t willing to show it.  “You, too.”  They parted, each going their separate ways.  She knew that Chakotay glanced back at her several times, and she refused to allow herself the same luxury.  But when she reached the promenade and was fairly certain that he was no longer gazing in her direction, Kathryn looked down just in time to see his brown clad figure disappear into the crowd.

Plain grey walls.  That was all she was going to see before she fell asleep at night for the rest of her life.  At least, that was how it felt some days.  Svetlana Korepanova closed her eyes, imagining that she was in a cabin in the woods, surrounded by trees, hearing the sound of a babbling brook just outside her door.  She imagined every detail of her bedroom: the rustic furniture, the colorful quilt that her grandmother had made, the fire burning in the fireplace.  For a moment, she lost herself in the illusion and smiled, but then she opened her eyes and was faced with plain grey walls.

Sveta slipped between the sheets of her Starfleet issue standard twin bed and tried not to look at the plain grey ceiling.  She told the computer to turn off the lights, and her small cell became pitch black.  At least the hard labor she performed at the Federation Penal Colony made it easy to sleep at night.  The labor wasn’t abusive, but it was challenging.  She knew she should be grateful that she had ended up in a Federation prison rather than a Cardassian one.  If the Cardassians had captured her, she would be long dead by now.  Although, as it was, she might as well be.  She faced another twenty years in prison for crimes she had committed as a member of the Maquis.  By the time she got out, she would be an old woman.  

Voyager’s return had given her and the other Maquis in prison some measure of hope, especially after the Maquis members of its crew had been pardoned, but it seemed that the Federation was only willing to pardon those few who had served aboard the Starfleet ship.  Chakotay had come to visit her, once, after his return, but only to tell her he would not be able to speak with her or see her again.  It was part of the bargain his captain had negotiated, he had explained, and Sveta hadn’t liked it one bit.  To pardon them officially but continue to relegate and watch their movements was just the kind of political bullshit the Federation would engage in.  Sveta sighed, trying to calm her nerves and slow her breathing.  She needed to sleep; she had another long day ahead of her, and her day of rest wasn’t for several more days.

Suddenly, she heard a sound that made her sit up in bed.  Someone had entered her cell.  When she reached up to press the emergency signal to alert the prison guards, she felt a cold hand on her wrist and heard a male voice hiss, “You don’t want to do that.”

“Oh?” Sveta retorted.  “And why is that?”

“I’m here to help you.”  The voice softened.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend.”  She could barely make out the shape of his face in the dark.  Instinctively, she reached out to touch him, trying to learn more about his appearance, but his cold hands restrained her wrists and stopped her.

“If you’re a friend then let me go.”

“Not until I know you won’t press that button.”

She forced her body to relax, letting the tension go out of her arms.  “All right.  I won’t press the button.”  He seemed to study her carefully for a moment and then dropped her wrists.  Her hands fell limply to the bed, and she untangled herself from the covers and sat on the cot next to him.  He took out a small device, a low light which illuminated his face.  She saw the ridges on his nose and the earring dangling from one ear.  “You’re Bajoran.  What’s your name?”

“I can’t tell you my name right now, Sveta.”  She narrowed her eyes at his use of her own name.  “All you need to know is that I am your friend, a friend to the Maquis.”

She regarded him with suspicion.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to help you.”

“How?”

He paused, cocking his head to one side, listening for any sign that his presence had been detected.  The prison was silent.  “I have some connections in high places - people who want to see the Maquis released from prison.”

“Is that how you got in here tonight?”

He didn’t answer her question, and continued, “For obvious reasons, I can’t tell you who those people are, but they are allowing me to help you and the other Maquis who are being held here.  You and your friends will serve as laborers on the next supply ship to Paris.  When you arrive there, before you’ve finished unloading your cargo, you’ll be beamed to a ship in orbit.  The pilot will transport you to a location outside of Federation space.  Then, you will be free to go wherever you would like as long as you remain outside the Federation.”

Prisoners routinely went on supply missions to load and unload the cargo, and it seemed a viable method of escape, but there were some gaping holes in the Bajoran’s plan.  “What about the planetary shield?  There’s massive security in Paris.  How are you going to beam us out without anyone detecting you?”

“My friends have very advanced technology.  They have a way to penetrate the planetary shield.”

“Just who are these friends of yours?”

The Bajoran’s eyes darted around the room nervously, and he shook his head.  “I can’t tell you that.”

“Don’t you think that Starfleet will come looking for us?”

“My friends will ensure that Starfleet thinks you are dead.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’ve taken a big risk by coming here, Sveta.  Why would I do that if I didn’t genuinely want to help?  The Cardassians killed my entire family during the Occupation.  I was a member of the Resistance and I did everything I could to support the Maquis during the war.”  He paused, hazel eyes looking into her green ones, the colors barely visible in the darkened cell.  “You don’t have to tell me your decision tonight.  Talk to the other Maquis.  You can decide together.  But I have to warn you, this opportunity will only come once.”

“All right.  I’ll talk to them.  How can I get in touch with you, once we’ve reached a decision?”

“When you’ve reached a decision, I will come to you,” he replied, and with that, he reached his hand into his pocket, activated some sort of transporter, and disappeared.

Sveta lay back in bed, her thoughts racing.  If she wanted to be a good little prisoner, she should contact the penal colony’s guards right now and tell them she had an intruder.  It might even increase her chances of early parole.  On the other hand, if the Bajoran’s offer was genuine, she wasn’t prepared to throw away a chance at freedom in order to placate her Federation captors.  In her mind, she began to review what the Bajoran had told her, cataloguing each and every detail in order to relate them to the other Maquis when she saw them the next day.  She had a feeling she wasn’t going to get much sleep.

Chapter Text

4

The Price of Freedom

“Those who desire to give up freedom in order to gain security will not have, nor do they deserve, either one.”
    -Benjamin Franklin

When Kathryn Janeway woke up in her childhood bedroom in Indiana, she felt secure and comfortable, but then she experienced a moment of disorientation, as if a part of her was saying, This isn’t where you belong anymore.  She blinked several times, remembering where she was, and then reached over and turned off her alarm.  She had spent a long weekend at her mother’s upon returning from her deep space mission, and this morning she was headed back to work.  Untangling herself from the blankets, she got out of bed and began to prepare for the day.  Ever since she had run into Chakotay at Deep Space Nine, he had been in her thoughts constantly.  In fact, she had realized that perhaps he had never left her thoughts, just been pushed to the back of her mind.  

During the first six months after Voyager’s return, he had been embroiled in his relationship with Seven and hadn’t been very social with anyone.  Tom, B’Elanna and Harry had all complained about it to her, which had been a switch, since she had a feeling they’d spent most of the previous seven years complaining about her to him.  Then, when Seven had broken things off, Chakotay had taken advantage of some of his accumulated leave and gone away to Trebus.  He hadn’t told anyone that he was leaving, and Kathryn had felt like her best friend had suddenly abandoned her.   When he had returned, he had come to see her in an attempt to patch things up between them, but she hadn’t been very receptive to his efforts.  She hadn’t thought of that conversation in months, but memories of it flooded back now.

Her office door chimed, and she sighed, glancing at the chronometer.  It was her aide’s lunch hour, so no one was there to filter her calls and visitors.  “Come in,” she called without looking up from her computer terminal.

“Nice office,” a familiar voice said.

She snapped her head up from her work.  “Chakotay!”
“Hi, Kathryn.”

“Welcome back.”  Her tone was chilly.  She appreciated his need for leave, but not the way he had run off without saying goodbye to her or anyone else.  She was still smarting from the fact that he hadn’t told her about his relationship with Seven, and then he had missed her promotion ceremony as well as the first anniversary of Voyager’s return.

"Thanks.  Do you have time for lunch?”

“Sorry, I have too much work to do.”  She looked back down at her computer console.

Chakotay looked around uncomfortably.  “Congratulations on your promotion.  I’m sorry I missed the ceremony.”

“Thanks.  The ceremony was just pomp and circumstance; you didn’t miss much.  The party at Sandrine’s afterwards, however, was something to see.  I beat Tom at pool three times in a row.  I think there was quite a betting pool going.”

“I am sorry I missed it.  I would’ve liked to have seen the look on Tom’s face.”

“He needs to be put in his place every once in a while.  Can’t have him getting too cocky.”

“I’m sorry I missed the first anniversary, too.”

“Yes,” Janeway replied, “everyone thought you should have been there.”  Chakotay didn’t miss the accusation in her tone, and he suddenly found his shoes very interesting.  Kathryn sighed.  She really didn’t have much time.  “Did you enjoy your leave?”

He looked back up from his shoes.  “I did.  It was wonderful to spend time with my sister.  She has a baby now, you know.”

“I didn’t know.  That’s nice.”  She picked up a PADD from her desk.  “It’s nice of you to stop by, but I really do need to get back to work.  Come by another time and we’ll have lunch, okay?”

“Sure.  I just...  Well, you were the first person I wanted to see when I got back.  I wanted congratulate you on your promotion in person.”

“Thank you, Commander.  I appreciate it.”

Her use of his title stung him, and he stepped towards the door.  “Don’t be a stranger, Kathryn.  Stay in touch.”

“You too.  Thanks for stopping by.”

He hadn’t come by another day for lunch, and she hadn’t really meant it, anyway.  Months had gone by without so much as a word between them, and she hadn’t realized how much she had missed him until their chance meeting on Deep Space Nine eighteen months later.  She wondered, as she and her mother approached the transport station, if he had arrived back on Earth yet after his recent trip.

“Stay safe, my little golden bird,” Gretchen Janeway murmured into her daughter’s hair as she hugged her goodbye.

Kathryn rolled her eyes.  Golden bird had always been her father’s nickname for her, and she had never minded it coming from him, but her mother had adopted it since her return from the Delta Quadrant and, for some reason, her mother’s use of the pet name irritated her to no end.  “Mother, I’m going to be sitting at a desk at Starfleet Command.  You can’t get much safer than that.”

Gretchen stepped back and put her hands on her hips.  “Now, Kathryn, I wouldn’t be your mother if I didn’t worry about you.”

“I’m a Starfleet Admiral.  I don’t need my mother to worry about me.  I am perfectly fine.”

“All right,” Gretchen relented with a smile.  “It was good to see you.  Thanks for spending your weekend with me.”

Kathryn’s tone softened.  “Of course, Mom.  It was my pleasure.  Thanks for having me.”

“Any time, honey,” said Gretchen, giving her daughter one last kiss on the cheek before Kathryn stepped onto the transporter pad.  

Just as the admiral said, “Energize,” she could hear her mother’s voice fading away as it said, “Don’t forget to eat good meals, sweetie...”  And then, a moment later, she was standing in the transporter room at Starfleet Headquarters.  She felt a combination of sadness and relief.  She was truly grateful for the weekend with her mother, and she missed her family when she wasn’t around them, but sometimes her mother’s worry could be stifling.  She tried to keep it in perspective, knowing that Gretchen had been subjected to seven years of worry, not even knowing whether her daughter was dead or alive for much of the time, but sometimes it was hard to push her exasperation aside.  As much as there was a part of her that wished she could see her mother every day, another part of her felt relieved as she stepped off the transporter pad and back into her own life.  

As she walked through the hallways, she realized that it actually felt good to be back at Starfleet Command.  Lieutenant Ayala was standing in the anteroom of her office, waiting for her.  When she had been promoted to admiral, Janeway had put a great deal of thought into who she would want for her aide.  She knew that she would prefer someone from Voyager’s crew, and when Ayala had approached her, telling her how much he wanted to continue working with her, and how a posting in a fixed location would be ideal for him and his family, the decision was an easy one.  

Ayala had switched from security to command late in their journey, and working as the aide to an admiral, especially an admiral he was so fond of, was a perfect next step for his career.  He moved his family to Earth upon Voyager’s return and traveled with Janeway if she deemed it necessary; most of the time she didn’t, preferring to allow him to stay home with his wife and their two sons, aged nine and twelve.  He had been away from them for so long that she wanted to do everything she could to let him remain close to them now.  “Welcome back, Admiral!” he greeted her with a warm smile.

She returned the gesture.  It felt good to have an aide with whom she had shared so many experiences; she wasn’t sure what she would have done with one of the fresh-out-of-the-Academy types that usually filled these positions.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.  What’s on my schedule today?”

Ayala rounded his desk and sat down, checking his computer.  “Admiral Ross asked to see you, so I made you an appointment at 1100.”  

She glanced at the time.  She still had several hours to catch up on reports before then.  “Did he mention what he wanted to see me about?”

Ayala shook his head.  “No, but it sounded urgent.  I’ve tried to keep everything in order for you.  There’s a stack of PADDs on your desk; the most important are on the top.  There’s also a fresh carafe of coffee waiting for you.”

Janeway patted Ayala on the shoulder as she walked by him.  “I knew there was a reason I gave you this job.  Thank you, Mike.”

By the time Ayala signaled her that Admiral Ross was there to see her, she felt as though she had barely started on the stack of reports.  She put aside the PADD she was examining, and Mike showed Ross into her office.  She stood to greet the other admiral, offering him a cup of coffee, which he took gratefully.

“How was your mission to the border worlds?” Admiral Ross asked when they were situated.

“My report should be available.  I submitted it as soon as we returned.”

“Yes, I’ve read your report.  I wanted to know your impressions of the worlds you visited, off the record.”

Janeway looked at Ross with confusion.  “Everything of significance was in my official report.  I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“You have a great deal of experience with diplomacy, Admiral Janeway.  You also have encountered a great many species who appeared friendly but turned out to be your enemies.”  Janeway nodded.  Ross had been an integral part of Voyager’s debriefing process and knew many intimate details of her experiences in the Delta Quadrant.  “So I ask you again, what was your impression of the worlds you visited?”

“If you’re asking me if I think that any of the leaders I met with seem insincere in their support of the Federation, the answer is no.  If I’d had any suspicions, they would have been included in my report.  Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been in deep space for several months, so perhaps you haven’t heard the rumors.”

“What rumors?”

“Recent intelligence suggests a plot in the works against the Federation from an unknown enemy.  This information comes through very high level intelligence channels, but we don’t know any specifics.”

“You want to know if I heard or saw anything that could give us more information about this potential threat.”  Ross nodded, and Janeway wondered why he hadn’t been more forthright from the beginning.  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I can’t say that I have.  What is the origin of the intelligence report?”

“The sources are trusted.  I can’t reveal the specifics at this time, but our new allies, the Br’nai, have been instrumental in sharing this information with us.”

“I’ll go back through my logs and see if anything seems relevant.”

“We’d appreciate that.  In the meantime, we’re looking at ramping up security throughout the Federation.  Some members of the Federation Council are planning to introduce a resolution that would grant the Council wider powers and more direct control over member worlds.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit premature?  We don’t even know if these rumors are true.”

Ross’ tone grew hard.  “You weren’t here during the Dominion War, Kathryn.  You didn’t witness the destruction and the chaos it caused.  If we’d had more direct control, we might have been able to prevent some of those atrocities.”

“Maybe.”  Janeway didn’t sound convinced.

“Nothing is more important than the safety of the Federation,” Ross insisted.

“I agree with you, but I still think you’re jumping the gun by attempting to introduce new security measures before we even know if there’s a real threat.”

“We’re unprotected,” Ross countered, “vulnerable to attacks on multiple sides.  We need stronger security measures in place and greater unity among Federation worlds.  Surely you can understand that.  Your own mission was part of that agenda.”

“My mission was part of a diplomatic effort to improve communication between Starfleet Command and the border worlds.  I understand your argument, but with all due respect, I don’t think you’ve considered the price of the measures you’re suggesting.  The beauty of the Federation is that it is an alliance of independent worlds which function under their own governments.  It is this peaceful coexistence that allows us to maintain our diversity and strength.  More controls might seem like the answer to enhancing security, but our individuality makes us strong.  If you force Starfleet security measures and controls on member worlds, they’ll begin to lose the qualities that make them unique.  Is that a price you’re willing to pay in exchange for a modicum of safety?”

“If we have another war, there won’t be any unique qualities to protect.  I understand what you’re saying, Admiral Janeway, and I don’t disagree with you.  But you have no idea what the war was like.  We can’t go through another time like that.  I’m not sure the Federation could survive it.”

Janeway couldn’t hide her surprise.  “Do you really think that, Bill?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”  Ross stood abruptly.  “I’ve taken too much of your time already.  I appreciate your insight, and if you do discover any new information as you review your logs, please inform me immediately.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Janeway replied.  “Good day.”  After Ross left, she sat back in her chair, reviewing the strange conversation.  The Dominion War had certainly changed the Federation.  That was becoming more and more clear to her.  Security had become a priority over everything else.  People were scared and they were acting in fear.  For seven years, she’d had to face fear every day, and she knew how to look it in the eye, unlike most of Starfleet, who she observed tiptoeing around at the mere mention of the Dominion or the Borg.  People were scared, and if her experience had taught her anything, it was that when some people were scared, there were always others waiting to take advantage of that fear.  

When Admiral Ross returned to his office, a now familiar figure was waiting for him, lounging on the couch in his anteroom.  Ross’ aide was nowhere in sight.  “Where’s Ensign Cartwright?” he asked his guest.

“I told her she could take her lunch,” said the figure who was dressed in black.  “We have some things to discuss.”

“You... you dismissed her?  But you have no right!” Ross spluttered.

“Please, relax, Admiral,” said the other man in a soothing tone.  “Why don’t we go into your office where we can speak comfortably?”

“Yes.  Yes, please come into my office.  Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, thank you.”  The black-clad figure sat in a chair across from Ross’ desk.  “How was your meeting?”

Ross sat down and stroked his chin with his hand.  “I think that Admiral Janeway is going to be a problem.”

A low hum jolted Sveta out of a deep sleep.  The sound was vaguely familiar to her, but before she could place it, she felt a hand clap hard over her mouth and heard a male voice whisper, “Don’t move.”  She knew that voice.  It was the voice she had waited to hear again ever since the first time he had appeared in her cell - the voice of the Bajoran Maquis sympathizer - and she relaxed under his grip.  When he felt certain that she wouldn’t do anything rash, he released his hand from her mouth.  

“Nice to see you too,” she growled, turning her head to try to see his face in the dark.  “Do you always show up in a girl’s bedroom in the middle of the night?”

“I tried to come earlier,” the Bajoran replied, “but I was delayed, and I can’t stay long.  You have your answer?”

“Yes,” Sveta replied.  She had spoken to several of the other Maquis, and they had all agreed that the risks of breaking out of prison were worth the price of freedom.  There was nothing left for them in Federation space.  Spending the rest of their lives outside of Federation territory was a small price to pay for their liberty.  “I agree to your proposal, and several of the other Maquis want to come, too.”

“I can get seven of you on the supply run.  No more.”

“Okay,” Sveta replied.  She gave him the names of six other Maquis who had agreed to the plan.

“You’ll be on the supply run in five days,” the Bajoran whispered.  “Detailed instructions will be waiting for you on the ship when you board it.  The pilot will be one of us.”

Sveta grabbed the Bajoran’s hand as he backed away from the bed, and at first he stiffened, reaching for his weapon, but she whispered to him, “Thank you.”  In the darkness, she could barely see the nod of his head before he dematerialized and she once again heard the soft hum that had awakened her.

“For next time, I’d like a short essay comparing Gegen with a figure from another race, any time in recorded history.  I’d like you to draw parallels not only between Gegen and the other historical figure, but also to form some broader conclusions about the nature of anthropological proof and how its existence can impact civilization as a whole.”  Chakotay glanced at the chronometer just as the bell sounded.  “Class dismissed.”  His students hurriedly packed up their things and exited the lecture hall as he wiped the electronic board clean, saving the details of his lecture on Gegen and the Voth for the next time he needed it.  

“Professor Chakotay?”

He turned to see one of his brightest students, a young Betazoid woman, standing behind him.  She wore a blue uniform, and her long, dark curly hair cascaded over her shoulders.  “Gabriella,” he greeted her with a smile.  “What can I do for you?”

Gabriella held a stack of PADDs under her arm and a book bag slung over her shoulder.    “Professor, I was just curious about your opinion of the Distant Origin theory.  You told us that Gegen ultimately capitulated to his government’s wishes, but didn’t he have solid evidence?”

“He did.  I told him not to give in.”

“Even if it meant that Voyager would be destroyed?”

“Gegen was fighting to protect his entire civilization.  I respected that, and I thought that his people deserved to know the truth about their origins.  Voyager had gotten out of worse situations.”

“Was there nothing else you could have done to prove to Voth what was true?”

“Gegen presented all the evidence he had.  You can’t convince people who don’t want to listen.”

“I guess not.  Well, thank you, Professor.

“You’re welcome, Cadet.  You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” she replied sharply, giving him a wide grin as she turned and left the classroom.

Chakotay particularly enjoyed teaching students like Gabriella.  She was bright and thoughtful, and always ready with an insightful question.  He locked the classroom door and made his way down the corridor to his office.  Several students greeted him as he passed, making him appreciate the connections he had forged with many of the cadets.  He found that his relationships with his students almost took the place of a badly needed social life.  Almost.  Between teaching, research, and grading papers, he didn’t have much time for a life outside of work.

He keyed in the door code and entered his sparsely decorated office.  A few anthropological artifacts adorned the shelves, and one wall was entirely lined with books.  Even though most texts could be easily accessed via computer, Chakotay preferred to keep a real library.  As soon as he sat down and began to organize the stack of PADDs that had accumulated on his desk, the door chimed.  “Come in,” he called.  The door swished open, and Chakotay looked up to find Icheb standing in the doorway.  “Come in, Icheb.”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Commander.”

“It’s no bother.  Please, have a seat.  How are you liking your second year?”

“It is quite challenging, Commander, but I think I’m up for it.”

Chakotay smiled.  “I’m sure you are.  What brings you to my office?”

“I’m not sure if it’s proper protocol for me to come to you about this, sir, but I didn’t know where else to go.  It’s probably nothing, so I didn’t want to bother Admiral Janeway or Seven, and I thought that, well, since you’re here, you might know something more...”

“What is it, Icheb?”

Icheb shifted in his chair uncomfortably.  “I’ve heard a lot of my classmates talking about the Federation Council taking more power into their own hands, making Starfleet a less independent entity.  I’ve tried to research to see if what they say is true, but I can’t seem to find any concrete answers.  The way my classmates talk about it, it sounds like Starfleet is going to be under the complete control of the Federation Council, and even the admirals won’t have any say anymore.”

“Icheb,” Chakotay admonished gently, “you shouldn’t believe every rumor you hear.  I know that the Federation Council is discussing making a few adjustments to the way they interact with Starfleet, but I’m sure your friends are exaggerating.”

“Some of my classmates suggested that we might need to boycott Starfleet.”

“Young people often blow things out of proportion.  Your classmates probably just want an excuse to protest.”

“You’re probably right, Commander.  I guess I shouldn’t take everything they say so seriously.”  

The boy looked deflated, and Chakotay said firmly, “Don’t be ashamed.  You’ve been paying attention to what’s going on around you, and you’ve been thinking about it.  Those are essential qualities of a Starfleet officer.”

Icheb’s face brightened.  “Thank you, Commander.”

“My door is always open to you, Icheb.  Don’t forget that.  You’re dismissed.”  Icheb stood to go, but before he was out the door, Chakotay called after him, “Icheb, if you do hear anything else about this, let me know, okay?”

The cadet nodded, relieved to have been taken seriously.  “Yes, sir!”

As Chakotay watched the young man walk out of the room, he opened his computer terminal.  Icheb’s words had given him food for thought.  He hadn’t been lying when he’d told the cadet that his classmates were probably just looking for a fight, but he also knew not to dismiss the rumors outright.  Most gossip had at least a kernel of truth in it.  He just had to find out what that was.  As he stared at his computer terminal and began to gather information, he realized that there was really only one person he wanted to discuss this with.  He smiled to himself as he began to compose a message.  He was about to cash in on a very old rain check.

The tension was palpable in the meeting of the Federation Council’s Committee on Interstellar Relations.  Thelos of Andoria argued, “This is a crucial moment.  For hundreds of years, the Federation has been a defender of peace and justice.  We’ve managed to combat every threat that has risen against us, but we are still rebuilding from the Dominion War.  Now, we hear that a new danger may be imminent.  What are we going to do about it?  This is the crucial moment, before the attack is launched, before we place our citizens in danger.  If we’d had this type of intelligence before the Dominion War, think of how many lives could have been saved.  We have an opportunity to act now to ensure the safety of all our citizens.  We must protect our people.

“I suggest that this committee proposes an amendment to the Federation Charter, an Emergency Powers Rule, that in the event of a crisis, would grant the Federation Council greater power to protect our citizens.  This Rule would enact strict security measures, not only on Earth, but on all of our member worlds.  This would prevent tragedies like the attack on Betazed from happening again.”  Thelos looked pointedly at Rheanna Jalay, the Betazoid councilwoman.

Across the table, Councilwoman Lilith Baines of Earth looked at Thelos with astonishment and wondered where this proposal had come from.  She had never seen her colleague take a stand on any issue before.  In fact, Thelos had been appointed to the Committee on Interstellar Relations because of his notoriously non-confrontational nature.  He had barely spoken a word for the first several months of his tenure, but over the past few meetings, he had been speaking up more and more.  This radical proposal was shocking, coming from him.  Baines had no objection, however; she had wanted to propose a similar amendment for quite some time, but had been afraid it would be too controversial.  

“The Federation is a conglomerate of independent worlds,” retorted G’tok of Qo’noS.  “The Klingons refuse to have the Federation Council involved in our affairs.”

“Even if it helps ensure peace?” asked Jalay.

“This amendment won’t ensure peace,” G’tok replied.  “It will only grant more power to the Federation Council.”

“We should at least look at what Councilman Thelos is proposing,” urged Koresh-Inya, a Grazerite.

“I agree,” replied Baines, looking down her long nose at G’tok.  

With three members agreeing to pursue the matter, the committee set to work on formulating a proposal.  They had not finished when the time came to adjourn for the day, and they would resume the same tedious arguments in the morning.  Councilman Thelos was exhausted by the time he left the committee room, but he had one more meeting to attend before heading home for the night.  

This meeting took place in a darkened corner of a hallway that few people ever passed through.  Thelos jumped as his companion, a tall humanoid in a long, black, hooded cape, emerged from behind a corner.  “I made the proposal,” the Andorian whispered.

“Well done,” said the other figure.  They had met several times, and Thelos had never seen him smile.  “How was it received?”

“Two of the other committee members were interested in pursuing the matter.  G’tok was opposed, as I told you he’d be, and Councilwoman Jalay didn’t say much.  I think she can be persuaded.  Her world was one of those most heavily damaged during the war.”

“Keep me apprised of the situation,” the hooded figure said, his silver eyes flashing as they caught the light.  “And make sure you tell no one of our meetings.  Understood?”

Thelos nodded slowly.  “I understand.”  As he walked away, he hoped that he was making the right choice, and that he truly was protecting the safety of the Federation.

The message read: “Friday, 1700 hours, Main Transport Station, San Francisco.  No uniforms.  Chakotay.”  Kathryn looked at it one last time to be sure she had remembered the details and then glanced again in the mirror.  She had ducked out of the office early for once and run home to change.  She didn’t like to appear out of uniform at Starfleet Headquarters and was grateful that Chakotay had not asked her to meet him there.  But then, he probably knew her preference.  

The light yellow dress was new, and as she smoothed it over her hips, she studied her figure.  Not bad, Kathryn, she thought, turning profile, examining how the dress pulled in at her waist and how it laid over her breasts, accentuating them a little, but not too much.  She turned forward again, slipping into a pair of beige pumps that added three inches to her short stature.  She stepped closer to the mirror, bringing a hand up to her cheek, touching the soft skin beneath her eyes that wrinkled a bit more than she wanted it to.  I’m not as young as I used to be, she thought ruefully, then stepped away from the mirror, examining the whole picture once more.  But, all in all, not too bad for a forty-five year old lady.  She glanced at the chronometer.  Damn, she thought.  She was going to be late.  But then, Chakotay probably knew that, too.  She grabbed a lightweight pale blue coat and headed out the door.  Fortunately, the transporter station was a quick walk from her apartment.

The San Francisco evening was warm, and the air was laced with a tinge of salt, as it often was when the wind blew in from the west.  Kathryn always felt that Friday nights had an air of anticipation about them, and she enjoyed the bustle of the city as she walked.  She wasn’t able to witness this often, since most days, she didn’t leave her office until well past 2100, but she enjoyed the atmosphere as she walked past cafes with sidewalk tables and shops displaying colorful items.  

When she arrived at the transport station, Chakotay was waiting for her.  True to his own instructions, he wore a casual grey suit with a white t-shirt.  He was smiling as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.  She thought that she should have been surprised by the intimate gesture, but somehow, it felt perfectly natural.  “You look very nice,” he said softly as he stepped back to admire her.

She blushed, averting her eyes to look at the coat draped over her arm.  “Thank you.”  

He gestured to the transporter pad.  “Shall we?”

“Where are we going, Chakotay?”  

He chuckled, familiar with her insatiable curiosity.  “You’ll find out.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

He shook his head and his eyes glimmered with humor.  “Nope.”  

“Come on, Chakotay.  There’s no need to be cryptic.”

“I’m not going to tell you,” he insisted, wagging his finger at her.  “No more wheedling!”

“I’m not...”  She cut herself off.  Of course she was.  They stepped up onto the transporter pad and Chakotay ordered the operator to energize.

When they rematerialized, it was dark, and Kathryn realized that they had changed time zones.  She looked around, trying to ascertain their location.  Europe, somewhere - she was certain of that by the architecture.  A large river ran in front of them, flanked by stone walls; several bridges crossed it.  A smile appeared on her face as she became more certain of their whereabouts.  She turned to her right, and the smile grew brighter.  She looked up at Chakotay with a hint of surprise and a great deal of pleasure.  “Paris, Commander?”

Chakotay’s expression became serious as he looked down at her.  “No rank tonight, okay?”  Taken aback by the intensity of his gaze, Janeway nodded and took Chakotay’s proffered arm in silence.  They turned a corner, away from the river.  He led her to an old stone building with blue wooden shutters.  On the ground floor was a restaurant with a patio in front of it.  Chez Julien, the marquis read.  Chakotay led her up the cobblestone path and in the door.

“Bonsoir, Madame, Monsieur,” the maitre d’ greeted them with a bow.  He spoke with a heavy French accent and smelled strongly of cologne.  “Bienvenue Chez Julien.  How are you this evening?”  

“We’re very well, thank you,” Kathryn replied with a smile.  She felt Chakotay’s hand resting on the small of her back.

“We have a reservation,” he said, giving the maitre d’ his name.

“Ah, yes.  Right this way Monsieur, Madame.”  He led them to a table by the window.  “Please, have a seat.  Your server will be with you in a moment.”

Chakotay pulled out Kathryn’s chair for her and took her coat, then sat down across from her.  “This place is wonderful, Chakotay,” she enthused.  “Just the right mix of sophistication and rustic charm.  How did you find it?”

“An old friend recommended it.  I haven’t been here for years.  Hopefully the food is still good.”  He grinned at her and she smiled back, realizing how much she enjoyed seeing him so happy.

They ordered their food and a bottle of wine.  The restaurant was quiet; only a few other couples were dining.  A solitary candle graced each table, and gold chandeliers hung from the painted ceiling.  Men and women of all races walked by the large windows in front of the cafe.  Even at 0200, Paris was a busy city on a Friday night.

Their meal was served by a charming garçon who seemed very young and whose accent was only slightly less thick than that of the maitre d’.  Kathryn and Chakotay found that they slipped easily back into old habits of conversation despite their lengthy separation.  They spent most of dinner discussing their work - what they enjoyed about it, what frustrated them.  Chakotay told Kathryn about some of his brightest students, and she spoke of how well Ayala was working out as her aide.  He beamed with pride as she told him how seamlessly his former crewman had blended in at Starfleet Headquarters.

The discussion turned to recent events, and Janeway spoke of the odd conversation she’d had with Admiral Ross.  “I have a feeling he was testing me, to find out if I agreed with him,” she said.  “I think that I failed the test.”  Chakotay mentioned the rumors that Icheb had brought to his attention and his own concern that the Federation Council might be making decisions that would limit their freedom.

“I know,” Janeway concurred as they finished their after-dinner coffee.  “Starfleet has changed.”  

Kathryn had always been such a staunch supporter of Starfleet that Chakotay was surprised to hear her say this.  At that moment, the waiter came with their bill, interrupting the conversation.  Chakotay took the check, and, when it was settled, asked, “How about a walk?”

“I’d like that.”  They stood from the table, and Chakotay held her coat as she slipped her arms into the sleeves, allowing his hands to linger on her shoulders for a brief moment.  The touch sent shivers down Kathryn’s spine, and she pulled away.  He held the door for her as they emerged into the cool Paris evening, and she laced her arm through his as they walked in silence to the edge of the river.

Street lamps illuminated a path along the Seine and its many bridges.  Across the river, the towers of Notre-Dame glowed in the night, and the two Starfleet officers paused to admire the ancient structure before turning west to walk along the riverbank.  They passed closed up booths where artists and food vendors sold their wares during the day.  The pavement shimmered under the glow of the streetlights, and the damp, early morning air smelled fresh and clean.  Kathryn’s arm remained linked in Chakotay’s, and he covered her hand with his possessively.

The silence between them felt comfortable, as if words were superfluous and the only communication they required was the sound of their footsteps side by side.  Chakotay was the one who finally broke the silence.  “Kathryn, I’m sorry.”

She was completely taken aback.  “Chakotay, there’s no need to...”

He cut her off softly but firmly.  “Please, let me finish.  I know it’s not necessary, but I’d feel wrong if I didn’t apologize.  I should have come to you about Seven in the beginning.  Not because I needed your permission to date her, but because you’re my friend.  The truth is, I didn’t because I was afraid of how you would react.  I didn’t want to hear your warnings or your criticism.  I had enough of that going on in my own mind, and the last thing I wanted was for someone else to confirm my doubts.”

“You know, if you had come to me, I probably would have supported you.”

He lowered his eyes.  “I know that now, but I had plenty of concerns, and I was convinced that you would share them.  Then it turned out that my fears were justified, much as I tried to ignore them.  In the end, I think it was all one big experiment to her, and I was the guinea pig.”

“Oh, Chakotay,” she breathed sympathetically.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.  I should have known better.  I wanted so badly to have someone to share my life with that I let that desire blind me to everything else.  Seven said all the right things and I accepted them at face value when really she was simply trying to ‘elicit the proper reactions‘ from me.  I believed her when I should have seen that she was just saying what she thought I wanted to hear.  I know her intention wasn’t to manipulate me, but she did.”

“She’s not exactly repulsive, either,” Janeway teased.

“No,” Chakotay agreed, color creeping into his cheeks.  “I just want you to know that I’m not proud of how I handled the situation, especially where my best friend was concerned.  I should have told you; you should never have had to find out from the admiral.  And I should have called you when she broke up with me, but at that point, I was so ashamed of myself that I didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all you.”

“Chakotay, you have nothing to be ashamed of.  You’re a passionate, giving person.  You care deeply for others, and you’re not afraid to demonstrate your feelings.  Those qualities are part of who you are.”

Moonlight shone over the river, casting a long beam that glistened on the water. “Well, I asked you for a raincheck two years ago.  It’s taken me an awfully long time to cash in on it, but hopefully dinner in Paris makes up for the delay.”

“More than,” she replied with a soft smile.  “You’re certainly not the only one to blame.  I could have been better about staying in touch over the past two years.”

“I’m sorry I missed your promotion ceremony.  I felt terrible when I found out.”

“It’s all right.  You didn’t know about it when you left.  The truth is, I think we both needed the time apart, to figure out who we are and what we want now that we’re not on Voyager.”  

He sucked in a sharp breath at her words.  “What do you want?” he whispered.

She pretended not to hear him, but he knew that she had when an enigmatic smile crept over her lips.  When had her hand slipped into his?  She had no idea, but his hand felt so good around hers that she didn’t want to pull away.  He stopped just as they reached the edge of the Pont de Concorde and turned to her, taking her other hand as well.  Kathryn’s heart beat faster and her hands began to tremble.  She hadn’t imagined when she left her apartment that evening that she’d wind up on a bridge in Paris, gazing into the eyes of her former first officer.  She felt decidedly un-admiral-like in that moment and realized she didn’t mind one bit.

“Your hands are cold,” he said softly, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them.

“Yours are warm.”

Without breaking eye contact with her, he raised first one of her hands, then the other, and pressed it to his lips.  The gesture sent shivers down Kathryn’s spine, and she had to avert her eyes to escape the intensity of his gaze.  Dropping one of her hands, he caressed her cheek, raising her eyes back to his.  His thumb stroked her face, warm against her skin.  “So beautiful,” he murmured, almost as if he was speaking not to her, but to himself.  

She was lost in the moment - not thinking, not analyzing her feelings, not considering her next course of action.  For a brief moment, her entire existence consisted of the cool air on her face, the warmth of Chakotay’s hand against her cheek, the gentle breeze that tousled her hair, and his chocolate eyes locked onto her own.  She saw Chakotay slowly lean towards her, his eyes dark with passion.  She could feel her heart beating in her chest and thought it must be pounding so loud that he could hear it, too.  She felt the gentle quiver of his hands and closed her eyes, anticipating the softness of his lips on

A distant whine caused them to break contact.  They turned toward the sky, trying to locate the sound’s origin, and then they heard a thunderous, resounding boom that seemed to come from above them and all around them.  It took Kathryn a split second to realize that the sound meant an explosion had taken place, and that was a split second too long.  Chakotay had made the connection half a second earlier and instinctively tried to shield her body with his own, but, not knowing which direction the attack had come from, his tactic was ineffective.  He realized this at the same time he realized that debris was beginning to rain down on them from all angles.  Unable to yell over the thunderous booming, he grabbed Kathryn’s hand and ran.  One of the small vendor’s booths stood a few meters from them.  It had been knocked open in the explosion, and if he could get them to it, it would provide shelter from the shrapnel.  Citizens began to emerge from their homes, screaming as buildings collapsed.

Chakotay tripped but caught himself before he hit the ground.  His stumble threw off Kathryn’s balance, and she fell to her knees, crying out in pain as a piece of glass cut deep into her leg.  Dust and debris flew around them, pelting them from every angle.  “Kathryn!” Chakotay cried as he helped her up, but she could barely hear him over the rumble of the earth and the piercing sound of screams.  It seemed like an eternity before they reached the small structure, and as soon as they arrived, Chakotay shoved Kathryn inside and managed to bolt the door shut.

Kathryn collapsed against a wall, sinking to the ground.  The small hut shook as it was bombarded with debris, and people outside shrieked in terror.  “What happened?” Janeway asked as she tried to focus her vision.  She felt lightheaded.

“I don’t know.  Some kind of explosion.”  The rumbling began to dissipate, and Chakotay knelt beside her, trying to see her injuries in the dark.  In the dim light that shone through cracks in the hut, he could see a large gash in her leg where the glass had cut it.  She was loosing blood quickly.  Chakotay ripped off his jacket and t-shirt and proceeded to tear the shirt into strips which he bound tightly around the worst of the cuts.  Little time passed before dark red blood began to seep through the white cotton.

“Is this what it takes to get you to take your shirt off, Commander?” Kathryn asked breathlessly.

“You could have just asked,” he replied with a wry grin, trying not to betray the grim nature of the situation.

“Oh, right.”  Her words began to slur together.

Her eyes started to roll back in her head and he captured her face between his hands.  “Stay with me, Kathryn.  You’ve lost a lot of blood, but I think I’ve stopped the worst of it.”  

Janeway managed to regain her awareness, and she grabbed Chakotay’s hand, pulling it away from her face.  “Shh.  Listen.”  They could still hear the moans of people in distress, but the rumbling had stopped, and so had the sound of debris hitting the hut.  “Help me up,” Janeway ordered, back in command mode.

“Kathryn, I don’t think you should...” he began, but the expression on her face told him she wasn’t about to take no for an answer, so he stooped down and scooped her to her feet, hands under her armpits.  She swung one arm over his shoulders so he could support her as she limped forward.  They emerged from the hut to see a faint light on the horizon.  The sun would soon rise over the decimated streets of Paris.  Debris lay everywhere, and windows in many of the buildings had shattered.  The Pont de la Concorde on which Janeway and Chakotay had been standing only minutes before was reduced to a pile of rubble in the middle of the Seine.

Janeway tapped her comm badge.  “Admiral Janeway to Starfleet Command.  Please respond.”

“This is Ensign Lang, Admiral,” a lackadaisical voice replied.  “What can I do for you?”

“Put me through to the emergency operations center.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  The ensign’s tone suddenly grew sharper.

A moment later, a new voice came through the comm.  “This is Lieutenant Commander Joseph Lynch.”

“This is Admiral Janeway.  There’s been an attack in Paris,” Janeway replied urgently.  “We require... emergency... medical... assistance...”  Janeway struggled to speak clearly, leaning heavily on Chakotay.  He regarded her with concern; all the color had drained from her face.  “We need to... find out what happened.”  Kathryn swayed on her feet and Chakotay held her tighter, wondering just how much blood she had lost.

“We’re getting reports now.  It looks like the attacks were centered on the Office of the Federation President,” Commander Lynch replied.  “We’re sending teams immediately.  Are you injured, Admiral?”

“It’s not bad,” she replied through clenched teeth.  “Commander Chakotay is with me.  I’ll be fine.”  Her pallor indicated otherwise, but Chakotay knew better than to argue with her.

“We’ll have you out of there in a few minutes, Admiral,” Lynch reassured her.

“Understood.  Janeway out.”  Her official duty discharged, Kathryn turned to look up at Chakotay, about to give him an order, but before she could formulate a sentence, the world went black.

Chakotay, already supporting most of Kathryn’s weight, caught her easily as she slipped into unconsciousness.  He lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, and held her as if he could protect her from the devastation that had so unexpectedly rained down upon them.

Chapter Text

5

Suspicions

“It is essential in particular to guard against the insignificant breach.  Illegality creeps in unobserved; it is like small items of expenditure which when oft-repeated make away with a man’s possessions.”
    -Aristotle, The Politics, V, viii

As Kathryn returned to consciousness, the first thing she realized was that two warm hands encompassed one of hers.  The second thing was that she was no longer in Paris.  As she opened her eyes, she turned her head in the direction of the warm hands and was not surprised to find her former first officer seated at her bedside.  He looked worried.  “Hi,” he said.

“Hey.”  She squeezed his hand and offered him a reassuring smile.

“Admiral, you’re awake,” another familiar voice came from the other side of the bed.  This was one of the few times she was grateful to hear the voice of Voyager’s former EMH.

“Doctor, it’s good to see you,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Not so fast, Admiral.  I’d like to make sure that everything has healed properly before you go galavanting about.”  Obediently, Janeway lay back while the Doctor ran a medical tricorder over her.  “Fit as a fiddle,” he said, satisfied.

With Chakotay’s hand supporting her, she sat up.  “Doctor, report.”

“Commander Chakotay dropped you off here a few hours ago.  You had lost a great deal of blood and had severed an artery in one of your legs, but due to my quick thinking and excellent medical skills, you won’t suffer any permanent damage.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Janeway said.  “Your work is very much appreciated.”  She glanced around, noticing that all the surrounding biobeds also contained patients.  “Are they all from the Paris disaster?”

“Yes, and, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to them.”

“Of course, Doctor.  It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you as well, Admiral.  Next time, I’d prefer that if we spend two hours together you be conscious for it.”  A nurse called for him from across the room and he hurriedly excused himself.

Janeway turned to Chakotay.  “Two hours?”

“You lost a lot of blood,” he explained.  “You were determined to keep going until you were sure that Starfleet was on the ball.”

She chuckled softly.  “I guess.  The Doctor said you ‘dropped me off’ here?”

“As soon as I saw that you were in good hands, I went back to Paris to help the teams that were looking for survivors buried in the rubble.  They’re still working at it, but hopefully we found most of them.”  

“Have they figured out what caused the explosion?”

The worried expression on Chakotay’s face intensified.  “Yes.”  

Becoming concerned, Janeway placed a hand on his chest.  “Chakotay, what happened?”

He took her elbow and helped her down from the biobed, guiding her towards the exit.  He kept his voice low.  “It was an attack.  A terrorist attack.”  From his tone, Kathryn could tell that he was still holding something back, and she gave him a probing glance.  “The attack occurred shortly after a group of Maquis broke out of the Federation Penal Colony in New Zealand.  No one has taken responsibility for the bombing, but the Maquis are being accused.  Admiral Nechayev wants to talk to both of us immediately.”

Janeway looked at him incredulously.  “But surely they don’t think that you...”  

“My presence in Paris at the moment of the attack doesn’t look very good.”

“You were with me the whole time.  The restaurant staff can confirm that.  There are records of our beam-out from San Francisco.  Any suspicions about your involvement are obviously completely unfounded.”

“There’s one other thing, Kathryn.”

“Why do I think I’m not going to like this?”

“One of the Maquis who escaped was my old friend, Sveta.”

Kathryn sighed.  She had been right; she didn’t like it at all.  With Chakotay by her side, she headed towards Nechayev’s office.  It was almost 2200 and the night was only beginning.  

The Presidio was packed with council members and their aides trying to reach the main hall as quickly as possible.  It was 2330 and an emergency session of the Federation Council had just been called.  As the council members took their seats, Councilman Sturik of Vulcan took the moderator’s chair.  The Federation President had not yet been found in the aftermath of the Paris explosion, so Sturik, being the senior council member, took his place at the head of the chamber.  As the other council members took their seats, he called for order.  “As many of you know, this emergency session of the Federation Council has been called in response to an attack on the city of Paris and the Office of the Federation President.  Admiral Henry of Starfleet Security is here to brief us on the situation in Paris.  Admiral Henry?”

Henry stepped up to the podium.  “Thank you all for being here at such short notice, and at such a late hour.  At approximately 0400 Paris time, a series of explosions occurred near the Office of the Federation President.  We believe that the explosions were caused by a cloaked bomb of some kind, a type of weapon we have never seen before.  We have not yet been able to determine the explosion’s point of origin, although we suspect that there were multiple weapons involved.  Coincident with the time of the attack, seven prisoners from the Federation Penal Colony in New Zealand escaped from a supply ship that they were manning.  We are doing everything we can to track them down.”

“How did they escape?” asked G’tok.

“The Paris sensor net recorded unusual tachyon emissions which may indicate the presence of a cloaked ship.  Starfleet Security is in the process of examining the sensor readings, and we have several ships patrolling the area and scanning for similar fluctuations.  We will find these people.”

“Admiral, do you believe there is a connection between the escaped prisoners and the bombing?” called out Councilwoman Jalay of Betazed.

“We don’t have conclusive proof of any connection.  However, the prisoners who disappeared from the supply mission were all members of the Maquis.”

“Are you accusing these Maquis of attacking the Federation without provocation?” asked Joss Nara of Bajor.

“It is hardly an unprovoked attack, Councilman,” retorted Councilwoman Baines from across the room.  “The Maquis have plenty of motive to attack the Federation.”  

Order in the room rapidly disintegrated, and Sturik stepped up to the podium, tapping his gavel.  “We must determine the facts and then decide on a plan of action,” he said calmly.  “That is the only logical course.  Are there any other questions for Admiral Henry?”  Sturik glanced at the screen in front of him where council members submitted their names in order to speak.  “The chair recognizes Councilwoman Baines.”

“If the Maquis were rescued by some kind of cloaked vessel, as you suspect, how did a cloaked vessel get so far into Federation space without being detected?”

“This is technology we’ve never seen before, ma’am,” Henry replied.  “Maybe the Romulans have developed a new type of cloaking device.  We are doing everything we can to get you some answers as soon as possible.”

“What is Starfleet doing to prevent further attacks like the one that occurred tonight?” asked Councilman Thelos.  

“Our first priority is to rescue any survivors of the Paris bombings and make sure that all our citizens are safe.  Starfleet Security has gone to red alert, and we have ramped up patrols throughout the Sol System.  The area surrounding Earth is undergoing constant scans, and we are doing everything possible to ensure that no further damage will be done.  We have security and tactical analysts already working to figure out who launched these attacks and why.  One thing is certain, this is new technology that we are dealing with here.  There was no way that Starfleet could have anticipated this attack, but if there is a next time, rest assured we will be ready.”

Seeing that there were no further questions, Sturik thanked the admiral for the briefing, and Henry quickly left the podium, many more pressing matters on his mind than addressing the Federation Council.  “Now that we have heard the limited information at our disposal, the floor is open for discussion and proposals.”  Sturik glanced down at the list in front of him.  “The chair recognizes Councilman Thelos of Andoria.”

Thelos spoke hesitantly at first, but gradually his confidence grew.  “Tonight’s brutal attack threatens the foundation of our Federation.  We must find a way to keep our citizens safe.  Last week, I proposed an amendment to the Federation Charter which would grant this council emergency powers under circumstances like this.  My fellow council members, the need for this amendment is greater now than ever.  Starfleet is doing their best, but you all heard what Admiral Henry said.  They have no plan to prevent further attacks.  They don’t even know how a dangerous enemy got so far into Federation space without being detected.  The safety of our people is up to us.  How many more times are you willing to put lives at risk because of Starfleet’s misplaced arrogance?  

“We have reached a crucial turning point.  Now is a time of crisis, and we have a choice.  We can avert the crisis now, while it is still in its early stages, or we can allow it to escalate.  If we do not act now, we risk another assault like the one that ravaged Paris tonight.  How many times are you willing to stand by and let your worlds fall under attack?  The Borg, the Cardassians, the Romulans, the Maquis and the Jem’Hadar have seen the Federation as easy prey; do we want to continue to leave our citizens vulnerable?  No!  This council must protect the lives of Federation citizens at all costs, and the plan I have proposed ensures we will have the necessary safeguards and controls in place to do so.  Now is the crucial moment, my fellow council members.  We must act immediately to protect our citizens.”

As Thelos spoke, the list of council members requesting the opportunity to speak grew, and Sturik knew that it would be several hours before the debate concluded.  Several council members, including Lilith Baines, applauded the Andorian councilman as he sat down, while others, like G’tok, were enraged.  In the upper gallery of the chamber, in an area that was reserved for visitors and observers, a lone figure stood in a far corner, observing the proceedings.  As he watched the debate intensify, his hooded figure shook in silent laughter.

When Kathryn was finally released from her debriefing, she was exhausted.  She had been over the details of the previous evening dozens of times - first in front of Nechayev, then in front of Nechayev and Henry, then in front of Nechayev and Ross.  They’re just being thorough, she told herself.  She glanced at the time; it was 0530, which meant that, except for her brief stint in sickbay, she had been awake for just over twenty-four hours.  She tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway to Chakotay.”

“Commander Chakotay is not available,” the computer’s voice responded.

“Ensign, has Commander Chakotay completed his debriefing?” she asked Nechayev’s aide.

The young woman took a moment to glance at her computer screen and then replied, “No, Admiral Janeway.  I believe he’s still with Admiral Henry.”

“Thank you.”  Much as she wanted to head back to her own office and lie down on the couch for an hour, Janeway headed towards Henry’s office.  When she arrived, she was surprised to find Admiral Paris waiting in the anteroom.  “Admiral,” she greeted him.

“Kathryn!”  Owen placed a warm hand on her shoulder.  “Are you all right?  I heard you were injured.”

“It was nothing serious.  I’m fine.  The rescue effort?”

“It’s a slow process.  A lot of damage was done, but we’ve had teams working on it all night.”  

At that moment, Henry emerged from his office alone.  “Admiral Paris,” he greeted the other man.

Paris and Henry exchanged a brief handshake, and then Henry noticed Janeway.  “Admiral Janeway, I thought your debriefings were finished.”

“They are.  I heard that Commander Chakotay was still with you, but obviously that’s not the case.”

“Commander Chakotay is in my office.  We’d like to keep him here for the moment.”

Janeway placed her hands on her hips.  “Why?”

“It’s no secret that this attack was perpetrated by a group of Maquis who escaped from prison, one of whom was an old friend of Chakotay’s.”

“Chakotay had nothing to do with this attack,” Janeway replied.  “In fact, he could have been killed by it.  He saved my life last night, and he has been a loyal Starfleet officer for the past nine years.  Surely it’s time to put these suspicions behind us.  Chakotay was with me the entire evening.”

“I’m well aware of your cover story, Admiral,” Henry replied in a tone that caused even Admiral Paris to bristle.  “But Commander Chakotay still could have been involved in the attack in some way.”

“Do you have any evidence of his involvement?” Paris asked.

“He was close friends with Sveta, the Maquis woman who most likely orchestrated the attack tonight.”

“That was over nine years ago,” Janeway retorted.  “He’s barely spoken to her since we returned to the Alpha Quadrant.  You made sure of that.  Besides, the last time I checked, we didn’t have conclusive evidence that this attack was perpetrated by the Maquis.”

“It’s an awfully big coincidence,” Henry began.

“Admiral Henry,” Paris cut him off in a soft but commanding tone, “I suggest that unless you have hard evidence to support a charge against Commander Chakotay, you release him.  He helped our security forces dig victims out of the rubble, not to mention saved Admiral Janeway’s life.  He should be hailed as a hero, not held as a criminal.”

Henry’s zeal waned and he averted his eyes.  “Yes, Admiral Paris.”  He disappeared into his office.  

In that moment, Janeway caught Paris’ eyes.  “Thank you,” she mouthed silently.  Owen nodded in acknowledgement as Henry returned with Chakotay.

“Commander,” Henry added, “I would suggest that you don’t leave San Francisco until this matter can be resolved.”

“I have no intention of leaving San Francisco,” Chakotay replied stonily.  He acknowledged Admiral Paris and then retreated into the corridor with Janeway, neither of them saying a word.  The doors to Admiral Henry’s office swished shut, and Chakotay muttered under his breath, “Is it just me, or did Starfleet bureaucracy get worse while we were gone?”

“It’s not just you.”

“How are you feeling?”  

“I’m fine.”  She caught his disbelieving expression and amended, “I’m tired, but I really am fine.  How are you holding up?”  She felt as if his steps beside her supported her as hers did the same for him.  They spoke in quiet voices, an unacknowledged tension between them.

“Apparently Starfleet rewards its heroes with all-night interrogation sessions these days.”

She grimaced.  “Was it that bad?”

“It was pretty bad.  First Henry, then Ross, then Henry again...  Then Hayes.  Well, Hayes isn’t so bad, but Henry and Ross?  I’d hate to see them in a room with someone who was actually guilty.”

“I thought they were just being thorough, but after the way they wanted to hold you, I don’t know what to think.”  They reached her office and stepped inside.  It was still early in the morning and Ayala hadn’t arrived yet.  As soon as the doors closed behind them, Chakotay pulled Kathryn close, wrapping his arms around her.  She was surprised by the gesture, and it took her a moment to return it, but she did, bringing her own hands up to rub his back.  She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in Chakotay’s arms, but somehow, it felt right, as if this was what she had expected since the moment she’d seen him in Henry’s office.

Chakotay tightened his protective embrace and nuzzled her hair.  “I was afraid I would lose you last night,” he whispered.  She could barely hear his words, and the only response she could offer was to hold him closer.  He kissed the top of her head and then released her.

Seeing the emotion on his face, Kathryn reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand.  “Hey,” she whispered, “I’m fine.”

He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm, then took the hand in his own.  “I know.”  His eyes met hers and he became lost in their blue-grey depths.  Right at that moment, the door to the office opened and Mike Ayala entered the room.  Abruptly, Chakotay released Kathryn’s hand.

If Mike had noticed the contact, he didn’t seem phased by it.  Instead, he looked at his two former commanding officers with unease.  “The Federation Council just passed the Emergency Powers Rule.”

    
“And so, I regret to inform you that I pronounced the president dead at 0547 hours this morning,” reported Dr. Yathaw, head of Starfleet Medical, as he stood in front of the admiralty.

“Thank you, Dr. Yathaw.  You are dismissed,” said Admiral Nechayev.  The Bolian bowed his head and exited the room, and Nechayev surveyed the collection of admirals seated around the briefing room.  “The Federation Council plans to hold elections for a new president as soon as possible, but the new Emergency Powers Rule invoked by the Council prevents any elections from taking place until the crisis has been averted.  The Council will have to make that determination itself.  In the meantime, Councilman Sturik of Vulcan will serve as acting chairman.”

Janeway spoke from the far end of the table.  “Don’t you think that suspending the Federation Charter during a time of crisis is exactly the opposite of what we should be doing?”

“With all due respect, Admiral, that’s none of our concern,” Nechayev replied.

Janeway’s eyes widened.  “None of our concern?  Our own legislature has suspended the rule of law and that’s none of our concern?”

“It’s only a temporary measure,” Ross explained, “to ensure our safety.”

“I fail to see how suspending the Federation Charter will ensure our safety, temporary or not,” Janeway retorted.

“I agree with Kathryn,” said Admiral Paris firmly.  “This is no time to be turning our back on our principles.”

“No one is turning their back on Federation principles,” argued Admiral Henry.  “We’re simply trying to do everything we can to ensure that our people are protected.  Giving the Council more direct control over member worlds is one way to do that.”

“You’re assuming that the Federation Council has the wisdom to decide what’s best for worlds that are light years away from here,” Janeway protested.

“Are you questioning the wisdom of the Federation Council?” asked Ross accusingly.

“I think that what Admiral Janeway is trying to say is that granting emergency powers to the Federation Council may not do anything to increase security,” said Patterson.  “In fact, it may detract from it if our protocols aren’t suitable for other planets.”

Ross began, “I hardly think that...”

“Enough!” snapped Nechayev.  “Regardless of our opinion of the Federation Council’s decision, short of an act of treason, we are in no place to change it.”

“I don’t think anyone here is suggesting treason, Alynna,” said Owen Paris, “but we could make our opinion known.  The Federation Council has always respected the views of the admiralty in the past.”

“I’ll take it under advisement, Owen, but frankly, I think that the council members have enough on their plate at the moment.”  At the corner of the table, Janeway pursed her lips, exchanging worried glances with Paris and Patterson as Nechayev turned to the next item on her agenda.  “Admiral Henry, the security update?”

“Our teams are working round the clock to analyze all available data from the explosion.  One thing we’re sure of is that we’ve never seen this type of explosive before.  We’ve located what we believe is the detonation’s point of origin, but we found no device there.  It seems to have blown itself up along with half the city of Paris.  We have engineers and tactical analysts working to develop a counter measure for these cloaked bombs, but we have very little to go on at this time.  I was approached a short while ago by Ambassador V’tan of Br’nai.  He indicated that his people have technology that can help us.  He said he had spoken to you, Admiral Nechayev?”

Alynna nodded.  “Ambassador V’tan briefed myself and Admiral Ross on this matter just before this meeting began.  His people have a device that can detect and neutralize cloaked weapons, and he seems relatively sure that they would be willing to share this technology with us.  Admiral Janeway, I want you to go to Br’nai and speak to Emperor Ch’a’fen about procuring this device for the Federation.  The Enterprise has been assigned to escort you there.”

Janeway bit back a series of protests as she saw the unyielding look in Nechayev’s eyes.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Nechayev gave Janeway a steely look, as if to warn her against questioning orders, and then turned her attention back to Henry.  “Admiral Henry, I assume that a search is already underway for the Maquis who escaped from our Penal Colony?”

“Yes,” he replied, “although we don’t have much to go on.  Our sensors have picked up residual tachyon emissions that indicate the presence of a cloaked vessel.  We estimate that the vessel was in orbit around the time of the bombings, and we are doing everything we can to locate the ship in question.”

“Any indications of who that ship might have belonged to?” asked Ross.  “The Klingons and the Romulans both have cloaking technology.”

“It could be an experimental Cardassian weapon,” Paris suggested.

“The Klingons have no motive to attack the Federation,” Patterson pointed out with a shake of his head.  “They’ve been our trusted allies for years, and I can’t imagine them doing something like this.  As for the Cardassians, they’re still in pretty bad shape from the Dominion War.  I doubt they have the man power or the technological resources to create this kind of weapon.”

“Which leaves us with the Romulans,” observed Hayes.

“Or a new threat, one we haven’t seen before,” Paris suggested ominously.

“We won’t know more until we have a more complete analysis of all available sensor data,” said Henry.  “We should have that within a few hours.”

“Do we have any idea how the Maquis were able to procure this kind of technology while they were in prison?” asked Admiral Toddman.

Janeway clenched her jaw and fought to keep her voice controlled.  “The Maquis’ involvement in this incident has yet to be proven.”

“Their escape at the exact moment of the bombing seems too convenient to be a coincidence,” argued Ross.

“Perhaps they simply took advantage of the confusion caused by the attack,” Janeway countered.

Nechayev held up her hand.  “None of that explains the presence of a cloaked ship in orbit.  We will have to wait until the evidence has been fully examined.  Until then, no one will be above suspicion, including the Maquis.”

“I thought we believed that people were innocent until proven guilty,” Janeway shot back.    

“No one has been proven guilty or innocent, yet, Admiral Janeway,” said Nechayev, “and until that happens, we will continue a full investigation of all parties.  Is that understood?”

Fuming internally, Janeway nodded.

Henry cleared his throat loudly, bringing everyone’s attention back to him.  “We’re waiting for visitor records from the New Zealand Penal Colony.  It seems clear that the criminals had outside help in their escape.”

Around the table, the admirals looked at each other gravely.  Nechayev said, “All of our resources are at your disposal in this matter, Admiral.  Admiral Ross will assist you; he may be helpful given his extensive experience hunting the Maquis.”

“I’m sure that Commander Chakotay or any of the former Maquis from my crew will be glad to help in any way they can,” Janeway added pointedly.

She was rewarded with another glare from Nechayev.  “Thank you, Admiral Janeway.  I think we have the situation well in hand.”

Kathryn bit her tongue to stop herself from issuing a retort she would later regret, and Owen Paris stepped up to the plate instead.  “Admiral Nechayev, many members of Voyager’s crew would be glad to assist you, my son and daughter-in-law among them.  Let’s not cast blame until we have proof.  The timing of these events may have been a coincidence.”

Across the table, Ross scoffed, “Unlikely.”

Paris was about to issue an angry reply when Nechayev held up her hand.  “No one meant to insinuate anything against your family, Admiral Paris.  I was merely pointing out that no one is above the law.”

Paris let it go at that, but Janeway was still seething.  Nechayev dismissed the meeting, and Admiral Patterson caught up with Kathryn as she was exiting the room.  “Katie!” he called, matching her pace as she strode furiously down the corridor.

“They think they can just ship me off again,” she muttered angrily under her breath.  “Suspending the Federation Charter?  What do they think they’re doing?  Can’t anyone see that this is dangerous territory?  We need to stick to our principles in times of crisis, not abandon them.”

She felt Patterson’s hand firmly on her shoulder.  “Katie, stop.”  He spoke in the tone of a father, not that of a superior officer, and she turned to face him.  “I think you’re right; this is not the time to abandon our principles or revoke the Federation Charter, however temporarily it may be.  However, Nechayev is also right.  We can’t interfere in the Federation Council’s decision.”

“We could communicate our position.”

“Yes,” Patterson conceded.  He resumed walking at a more leisurely pace, and she fell into step beside him.  “But that’s not up to you or me.  I know you spent a long time on your own, able to decide everything for yourself, but...”

“It’s not like that here,” she finished for him.  “I know.  Maybe if I could learn to keep my mouth shut, I wouldn’t get shipped off to the borderlands at every opportunity.”

“Kathryn, we need people like you, especially in the admiralty.  Some of us old farts have been here so long we don’t remember what it was like to be out there making first contact with other species.  We need new blood, new perspectives; we need people who are willing to speak out.  Everyone who lived through the Dominion War is scared stiff of conflict.  We need people who aren’t afraid to stand by their principles even if it doesn’t seem like the safest course of action.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, Katie.  And don’t think you’re getting shipped off.  This mission to Br’nai is an important one, and not just for the reasons that Admiral Nechayev told you.”  Patterson’s voice had taken on a hushed tone, and Janeway eyed him inquisitively.  “Have you met the ambassador from Br’nai?”

“No.”

A serious expression came over Patterson’s face.  “He’s made some friends in high places, including Admiral Ross and Admiral Henry.  Another one of his friends is Councilman Thelos of Andoria, the councilman who proposed the Emergency Powers Amendment.”

Kathryn arched an eyebrow.  “You think that the ambassador had something to do with that?  Why would the Br’nai ambassador be interested in the Federation Council passing an Emergency Powers Rule?  Br’nai isn’t a member of the Federation.”

“I really don’t know.  Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I’ve been around long enough to know that things like that are rarely coincidences.  If anyone can find out what’s going on beneath the surface here, it’s you.”

“You ordered me on this mission?”

“Let’s just say I suggested you to Nechayev.”  Patterson gripped her shoulder.  “Find out what’s going on here, Katie.  I’ve met the Br’nai ambassador, and whatever his interest is in the Emergency Powers Rule, I don’t think it’s going to be to our benefit.”

Ambassador V’tan’s office occupied one large room of his spacious San Francisco apartment.  It was lavishly furnished with cherry cabinets and green leather armchairs.  The walls were lined with bookshelves that contained volumes of literature and non-fiction from cultures all over the galaxy.  When Ch’a’fen had first been elected emperor two years earlier, one of his first acts had been to appoint V’tan as his ambassador to the Federation.  V’tan had made good use of his tenure, creating valuable alliances with members of the Federation Council and close friendships with high ranking Starfleet officials.  It was all part of his grand scheme, and, for the most part, things were proceeding according to his design.

Now, he sat at his desk, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dark wood.  Someone always tried to thwart his plans.  When he was a child, it had been the do-gooder Aul - a prim and proper boy who always stood up for the “good,” defended the helpless and said everyone had the right to make decisions for themselves.  V’tan laughed when he thought of the pale, thin boy who had sworn he would change the world.  He was now a second assistant bookkeeper to a powerful merchant, and all his talk of doing good had gotten him nowhere.  V’tan, on the other hand, was pursuing true greatness.  He knew better than to waste his time on those who were lower than himself.  His was the only way to real power.  

Just as he had destroyed Aul as a child, he would crush anyone who tried to stand in his way now.  He looked at the personnel file on the display in front of him, a file which he had spent the past several hours studying, evaluating the potential threat.  He could see, just from her record, that she would be beyond his ability to manipulate.  She was too strong willed, too stubborn and too independent.  He had an uncanny ability to tap into people’s weaknesses and fears, but there were some who were immune to his manipulations, and he was fairly certain that she would be one of them.  There is one person who might be able to pacify her, V’tan thought.  After all, with my help, he managed to convince most of Br’nai to support our cause during the rebellion.  V’tan stopped tapping his fingers and placed a call on the private channel he shared with Ch’a’fen.  

The emperor’s face appeared on the screen.  “V’tan, my friend.”

“My dear Emperor,” V’tan replied, a hint of friendly mockery crossing his features.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

V’tan’s expression darkened.  “I’ve called to speak to you about a matter of the utmost importance.  I’ve been reviewing the personnel files of influential people in Starfleet and the Federation Council to determine who among them is a potential ally.”

“What have you found?”

“As you know, I have already made friends with many important figures in both organizations.  I believe that even those highest placed in Starfleet Command are not beyond my reach.  However, there are also those who are likely to speak out against us - those with narrow minds who are unable to understand that we desire to help other races by sharing our superior way of life with them.  There is one admiral in particular who I believe to be a threat.  She is headstrong and unpredictable, and used to operating on her own.  She may even be willing to go against others in Starfleet Command.  She must be either made to see the light or eliminated.”

“I see.  What would you like me to do?”

V’tan sat back in his chair and placed his chin in his hand.  “You may be able to persuade her to see things our way.  It was your speeches that convinced our people to support our cause, after all.”

“You were always there to guide me.”

“I may not be there in body, but I will be there in spirit.  You see, my dear Emperor, she is coming right to you, walking into your waiting arms, and I didn’t even arrange it!  I had nothing to do with it, in fact, but this will give you one chance to make her see our point of view.  Once you have spoken to her, we will decide what must be done.”

“Who is this person, V’tan?”

V’tan leaned forward towards the view screen, his silver eyes sparkling as the corners of his lips turned up in a cunning smile.  “Janeway.”

Hurriedly, Kathryn cleared the remaining items from her desk, putting the PADDs she would need into her duffle bag.  She was about to order the computer to turn off the lights when the door chimed.  “Come in,” she called, zipping up the duffel and stopping mid-motion when she heard the voice that greeted her.

“Hi.”

She looked up to see Chakotay standing in the doorway.  “Hi,” she replied with a smile.

“I heard you’re leaving.”

“Yes.”  She slung the duffel over her shoulder.  “I’m on my way to the transporter room right now.  The Enterprise is scheduled to leave orbit in less than an hour.”  He walked with her as she turned off the lights and exited her office.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know.  The trip to Br’nai will take a couple weeks, even at maximum warp.  Once we’re there, the mission shouldn’t take too long.”  She sighed.  “Honestly, Chakotay, I think that Captain Picard could handle this one on his own.  I don’t know if Starfleet just wants me out of the way or if...”  She trailed off, unsure whether to share Patterson’s suspicions.

“Or what?”

Janeway stopped walking, and Chakotay turned to face her.  She spoke under her breath despite the emptiness of the corridor.  “Admiral Patterson suggested to me that there might be something else going on here, something involving the Br’nai ambassador.”

“Like what?”  

“He doesn’t know.”

They resumed their walk, slowing their pace as they neared their destination.  “Well, if there is more to this than meets the eye, I’m sure you’ll find out what it is.  Just don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Kathryn chuckled.  “Me?  Take risks?  Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“I know exactly who I’m talking to.”

She stopped again, placing her hand on Chakotay’s arm as he turned to face her.  “I’ll have the entire crew of the Federation flagship to protect me, Chakotay.  I’ll be fine.”

He reached down and squeezed her hand.  “I wish I was going with you.”

She squeezed back.  “Me, too.”  She paused.  “Are you sure you don’t need me to run interference with some of those admirals for you?”  She had meant the comment to be lighthearted, but Kathryn saw a flash of anger on Chakotay’s face as he dropped her hand and resumed their walk.

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  “After all, I’m stuck in San Francisco, the safest place on Earth.”

“I’m sure they’re just being cautious, Chakotay.  No one really believes you had anything to do with that attack.”

“You don’t think so?  You’ve always been overly optimistic where the Maquis are concerned.  If no one really believes I had anything to do with it, why did they want to hold me last night?  Why am I being politely asked to remain in San Francisco until the matter is resolved?  There are definitely people out there who believe that I’m guilty simply because I once took off my Starfleet uniform and fought for a cause I believed in.  No amount of loyal service to Starfleet will ever make them think otherwise.”

“I don’t believe that, Chakotay.”

He bit back an argument.  He didn’t want their last moments before her departure to be marred by bitter words, so he let the subject drop.  They reached the transporter room, and the ensign manning it greeted them, “Admiral Janeway, Commander Chakotay.”

Before stepping onto the transporter pad, Kathryn turned to Chakotay and gave him a wry grin.  “See you in a month or two.”

“Kathryn...”  Chakotay trailed off, unsure what to say.  She was all business today, and he wondered if he had misread her signals in Paris.  The memory of their almost-kiss had not left his mind, but it suddenly seemed as though the previous night had been weeks earlier.  “Be safe,” he finished lamely.

She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart below her palm.  She sensed his uncertainty, but she was Admiral Janeway here, and she couldn’t afford to mix work and personal business.  She looked into his eyes, trying to communicate what she felt without saying a word.  She nodded and whispered, “I will.”  Then she stepped up onto the transporter pad and ordered the ensign, “Energize.”  As she dematerialized, Chakotay thought he saw her head turn imperceptibly towards him to give him a small wink.

A moment later, Kathryn found herself in a spacious, state-of-the-art transporter room, and Captain Jean-Luc Picard greeted her.  “Admiral Janeway,” he said, extending his hand to help her off the transporter pad, “welcome to the Enterprise.”

Sveta sat back against the bulkhead, exchanging a glance with Niles.  For almost two weeks, they had been confined to this cargo bay, where they had been beamed directly from their Paris supply mission.  They had seen no crew or pilot and knew nothing of the vessel they inhabited.  Their meals materialized at regular intervals, and the food was nothing fancy, but it was palatable.  Her lack of knowledge about the ship and its crew made Sveta uneasy, but by her calculations, they should be nearing the border of Federation space by now.  True to his word, the unnamed Bajoran had arranged for their escape.      

Being beamed to a cargo hold was hardly what Sveta and the others had expected for their rescue, but as more and more time had passed without incident, they had begun to relax.  Now that their liberation was close at hand, even Sveta was beginning to feel optimistic.  Freedom, she thought.  How long has it been since I’ve had true freedom?  A long time.  In her mind, she had already begun to plan her new life, considering various jobs she might do in a borderland outpost.

Suddenly, the ship was rocked by an explosion, and Sveta was thrown against the ground. As she managed to pull herself into a seated position, she saw through the smoke that the door to the cargo hold was open.  She stood, surveying her companions.  “Everyone okay?”  Everyone nodded, slowly getting to their feet.  “Come on,” she ordered with a wave of her hand.  

The vessel was relatively small, and it did not take them long to locate the bridge.  However, when they found it, it was deserted.  Sveta exchanged a worried glance with Niles and quickly moved to one of the bridge stations.  She had never seen this class of ship before, and she didn’t recognize the language on the panels.  As a Maquis, she had piloted ships from all over the quadrant, and it didn’t take her long to figure out the basic controls.  No other ships appeared on the view screen.  “Can you get a sensor lock on whatever is attacking us?” she asked.

“I’m getting some readings,” replied Kalita, “but they’re very confusing.  I think that whoever is attacking us is using some sort of cloaking device.”

“Hail them,” Sveta ordered.

“Channel open,” said Niles.

“Unidentified vessel, this is a simple cargo ship.  We have no hostile intentions.  Please identify yourselves.”

“No response,” Niles answered.  An energy beam made contact with their hull.  Sparks flew from the panel behind Kalita.

“Return fire!” ordered Sveta.  “Target the origin of that beam.”

“Weapons are not responding,” Kalita replied.  “I’m trying to get them online.”

Sveta’s heart pounded as she wondered if this had been the plot all along.  Was the Bajoran who had approached her really a Cardassian agent bent on killing the Maquis instead of rescuing them?  She had to think quickly.  She had to find some way of letting someone know what had happened here.  Her fingers flew over the control panel, encoding a message.  “What about the shields?” she asked as another blast rocked the small vessel.

“Shields are not responding!” Niles replied frantically.  “I can’t...”  The last thing Sveta saw was the panicked expression on Niles’ face as he realized that their shields were useless.  Her last thought was to hope that someone, somewhere would be able to find her message and decode it.

Two light years away, Commander Kira Nerys sat back in her chair, a puzzled expression on her face.  She looked down at the PADD again.  It was a report from Dr. Bashir - the autopsy of an unknown Bajoran male whose body had shown up on the station two days earlier.  He appeared to have died of natural causes, and there didn’t seem to be any reason for concern.  But still, Kira did not like loose ends, and this was definitely a loose end.  Where had the body come from?  Who was the man?  She made a mental note to have someone investigate the situation further.

Her comm channel beeped.  “Kira here.”

“I think you’d like to see this, Commander.  There’s been an explosion in space two light years away.”

Chapter Text

6

Interlude

“Il ne peut y avoir de puissance que dans un cerveau; en d’autres termes que ce qui mène et entraîne le monde, ce ne sont pas les locomotives, ce sont les idées, c’est bien; mais ne prenez pas le cheval pour le cavalier.”
    -Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Bolts of green energy lanced out into space as two massive ships engaged in a pitched battle.  An energy beam hit one of the vessels; its shields were damaged and its crew moved efficiently to repair it.  The ship retaliated, firing a torpedo at its attacker, badly damaging its shields in return.  The battle continued in this way for several minutes; the vessels were evenly matched, and the fighting seemed to have reached a stalemate.  The ship that had fired the torpedo caught its target in a tractor beam, and for a moment, it seemed to have gained the advantage.  Then a disruptor pulse raced along the tractor beam’s trajectory, rocking both vessels.  The craft that had a moment before been captured used the advantage of surprise to fire on its enemy, destroying the ship.

“Damage report!” Axum ordered, feeling momentary relief wash over him at the destruction of the Borg cube.

“We blew out the disruptor,” replied Isha, a former Cardassian who served as Axum’s second-in-command.  “Our shields are down to sixty percent.”

“The Collective?”

“That was the last of their vessels in range, at least as far as I can tell.  Not that that means much since they’ve adapted to our sensors.”

Axum frowned.  After his encounter with Voyager in Unimatrix Zero, he had banded together with Isha, Korok, Laura and the other former drones who had been liberated from the Collective.  When the Borg had been weakened by assimilating a neurolytic pathogen, the time had been ripe to begin a full fledged resistance.  At first, things had gone very well for the rebels.  The Borg had been crippled by the pathogen, and the resistance made a great deal of headway.  But then, the Borg had begun to adapt, and the strength of their fight against the rebels had steadily increased as the months passed.  Now, two years into the war, the fighting had reached a stalemate.  Axum and his people would destroy one Borg cube only to have one of their own ships destroyed in return.  Each side adapted in conjunction with the other’s advances, and the race to create technology that would foil their enemies seemed never ending.  The Collective’s advantage was sheer numbers, but the rebels had individuality on their side.  It seemed that neither would ever triumph.

Axum’s pursuit of the Collective had taken him progressively closer to the Alpha Quadrant.  Part of this was by design - he took his own ship on any mission that would send them in that direction - but the Collective also moved nearer to the Alpha Quadrant each month.  The resistance had tried to infiltrate the Collective to find out the Queen’s master plan, but they had had little success in that area.

A panel to Axum’s right signaled an incoming transmission.  He moved awkwardly towards the console.  Not a day went by when he didn’t wish for the body he’d enjoyed in Unimatrix Zero; the Borg components that encumbered him were clumsy and uncomfortable.  He envied Annika, the only Borg he knew whose technology had been successfully removed.  

General Korok appeared on the screen.  “Axum,” he said in his deep baritone voice.

“Korok, old friend.  Where are you?”

“We’re coming up on your position.  We’ll rendezvous with you in a few days.”

Axum studied his old friend’s face.  “This isn’t just a social call, is it, General?”

Korok gave a hearty laugh in response.  “You know me well.  We have news for you.  Three days ago, we engaged a Borg ship in glorious battle.  We claimed our victory after we disabled the cube’s central plexus.”

“Well done, General.”

“Before we destroyed their ship, we took one of the petaQs hostage.  We were able to access its neural processor.”

If he could have stood up a little straighter and leaned forward over the console, Axum would have, but the burden of his Borg components hindered his movements.  “What did you find?”

“The Borg are planning an attack on the Federation.  They’re sending several ships towards the Sol System.”

Axum nodded; this was no surprise.  “We have to stop them.  How many of our ships are currently in range?”  He looked at Isha.

“Maybe a dozen.  More via transwarp.”

Axum turned his attention back to the view screen.  “Korok, rendezvous with us at these coordinates.”  Axum keyed in a sequence of numbers and transmitted them to Korok’s vessel.

“It will take us a few days to get there, but we’ll be there and we’ll be ready for battle,” the general replied.

The transmission ended, and Axum ordered Isha to contact as many of their cohorts as she could.  He then activated a console so he could monitor repairs to his vessel.  There had been a time when he would have known the status of his ship through his link to the hive mind, but Captain Janeway and Annika had helped to sever that connection, and the voices that had plagued his mind for years were gone.  

As Axum’s thoughts wandered to Annika, he became distracted.  It had been almost three years since he had last seen her in Unimatrix Zero, since he had touched her skin, pressed his lips to hers...  But even those memories hadn’t been physical realities, only imagined through a shared interlink frequency.  For three years, he had wondered constantly where Annika was, what she was doing and whether she and her people had returned to the Alpha Quadrant.  He knew only that Earth was her home, and he had to do whatever he could to protect it.  

She was moving closer and closer to it each year, and he would do the same.  He didn’t know if she still felt the affection for him that he carried in his heart for her.  He didn’t know if she had moved on to a relationship with someone else.  Sometimes, in his moments of deepest despair, he wondered if she even remembered him.  But then, he knew that what they had shared would be impossible to forget.  Even if she had moved on, she had not forgotten.  Axum closed his eyes.  Annika, he thought.  Where are you?  

He turned back to the console, opening his eyes and examining the data in front of him.  The Borg Collective had to be stopped.  That was his first duty.  Only after he had succeeded in that task could he keep his promise to his beloved.

Chapter Text

7

Thin Ice

“I have been impressed with the urgency of doing.  Knowing is not enough; we must apply.  Being willing is not enough; we must do.”
    -Leonardo da Vinci

“And then we got a communique from Admiral Henry asking us not to leave Utopia Planetia without informing Starfleet!” B’Elanna fumed.  “They’re treating us like criminals.  Isn’t this illegal?”

“I agree with you, B’Elanna.  It’s wrong.  But I’m not sure what I can do about it right now.  Kathryn did everything she could to ensure that we would be treated fairly.”

“And they’ve shipped her off to the borderlands again.  Doesn’t that have you the least bit suspicious?”  He lowered his eyes.  “You are suspicious!  We have to fight this, Chakotay.”

“B’Elanna, I really don’t know what I can do.  It’s within Starfleet’s purview to ask us to remain near our posts while they sort out this mess.  If I go to Admiral Henry, he’ll tell me that these security measures are being taken for our own safety.  We have to wait and see how this plays out.”

“All right,” B’Elanna conceded.  

“How’s Miral?” Chakotay asked, trying to change the subject.

At the mention of her daughter’s name, B’Elanna’s demeanor changed.  “Wait till you see how big she’s getting.”  She turned away from the screen.  “Miral, come say hi to Uncle Chakotay.”  

B’Elanna tilted the viewer so that Chakotay could see the girl waddle across the room.  Miral waved enthusiastically.  “Hi!”

Chakotay waved back.  “Hi, Miral.”

B’Elanna picked up her daughter and held her in one arm against her hip, growing serious again.  “I don’t think we should put up with this much longer, Chakotay.  We’re members of Starfleet, and I don’t see them asking Vorik not to leave Utopia Planetia without their permission.  It’s not fair.”

“You’re right, B’Elanna.  It’s not fair.  I just think we should...”  He cut off abruptly when he saw he had another incoming transmission, one from Starfleet Command.  “B’Elanna, I have to go.  Give that husband of yours a nice punch in the ribs for me.”

“What did he do?” she asked, concerned.    

Chakotay grinned.  “I’m sure you can think of something.  Chakotay out.”  He ended the transmission and switched to the incoming message from Starfleet Command.  

Admiral Ross appeared before him.  “Commander Chakotay, please report to Starfleet Headquarters right away.”

“Is everything all right, Admiral?” Chakotay asked, thinking only one thing: Kathryn.

“Some new information has come to light about the Paris bombings.  We need to speak to you immediately.”

“I’ll be right there.  Chakotay out.”

When the commander arrived at Starfleet Headquarters, the briefing room doors slid open to reveal a table surrounded by several admirals: Ross, Nechayev, Henry and Toddman.  At the far end of the table sat an individual Chakotay had never seen before.  He was a tall humanoid, lean and muscular, clad in black with a flowing, hooded cloak draped over his shoulders.  He had dark hair and silver eyes, and a black stripe ran from the tip of his nose up to his hairline.  To his right sat another member of his species - a shorter, slightly disheveled looking man with unruly brown hair.  “Commander Chakotay,” began Nechayev, “I believe you know all the Starfleet personnel present.  And this...”  She gestured to the alien at the far end of the table.  “...is Ambassador V’tan of Br’nai.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ambassador,” Chakotay said.  

“Commander Chakotay,” said Ross, “are you aware that two days ago, an explosion occurred in space two light years from Deep Space Nine?”

“No, sir,” Chakotay replied, puzzled.

“Did you know that a ship being piloted by one of your Maquis friends was in that area of space?”

“No, sir.”

Admiral Henry asked, “Are you aware of any current hiding places of Maquis terrorists near that location?”

“With all due respect, Admirals,” Chakotay said, trying to control his voice, “we’ve been over this several times.  I don’t know anything about any so-called Maquis activities in that or any other part of space.”

The admirals exchanged glances, and Nechayev gestured to V’tan.  “Ambassador V’tan, please share with the commander what you told us earlier today.”

V’tan nodded to his aide, who stood and activated the monitor on the wall.  A small vessel appeared on the screen; its configuration was unfamiliar to Chakotay.  “This image was recorded by a Br’nai vessel which picked up a transmission from this ship.  Ril, please play the audio.”  

A distorted audio message played in the room, but the words and the voice were clear enough.  “Unidentified vessel, this is a simple cargo ship.  We have no hostile intentions.  Please identify yourselves.”  When Chakotay heard the voice, he could not stop the shock from registering on his face.

“Do you recognize that voice, Commander?” Ambassador V’tan asked.

When Chakotay did not respond immediately, Nechayev pressed him.  “Commander Chakotay, do you recognize that voice?”

“Yes.  That’s the voice of Svetlana Korepanova, the woman who recruited me into the Maquis.”  Chakotay looked down at his hands which were clasped tightly on the table.

“Do you have any idea what she would be doing near Deep Space Nine?”

Chakotay raised his eyes and looked directly at Nechayev.  “I have no idea, Admiral.  I haven’t spoken to Sveta since shortly after Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“The tracking technology aboard our ship was able to identify this vessel as the one that was in orbit over Paris at the time of the bombing,” V’tan said.  “This seems to offer conclusive proof that it was the Maquis who orchestrated the bombing.”

“If you know where they are, why don’t you question them?” asked Chakotay, frustrated.

“Unfortunately, shortly after this image was taken, the ship exploded.  It was an accident, as far as our sensors could tell, but we have no way of knowing for certain,” said V’tan.

Chakotay felt his jaw clench.  The Br’nai ambassador was insinuating and suggesting without offering any conclusive evidence.  “That doesn’t make any sense,” he argued.  “I can’t think of a reason why the Maquis would want to bomb Paris or go on a suicide mission.”

"Can’t you?” asked V’tan coldly.  “You don’t think it’s plausible that they would seek revenge against the Federation for imprisoning them, allowing their families to be killed, and making treaties with their enemy, the Cardassians?  Perhaps they did it in exchange for help they received in escaping.  Someone got them from their cargo run to Deep Space Nine.”

“No!” Chakotay insisted.  “I knew these people, and they never would have done something like this.  They fought against Cardassian soldiers; they didn’t blow up innocent civilians.  And they certainly wouldn’t kill innocent people just to free themselves.”    

“Perhaps,” replied V’tan, not allowing Chakotay’s emotional outburst to touch his serene exterior.  His aide, on the other hand, looked exceedingly nervous.

“Commander Chakotay, did the Maquis ever use suicide bombing tactics?” asked Admiral Ross.

“Not that I know of, sir.  I was gone for most of the war, however, so I can’t speak to what was done after Voyager was stranded in the Delta Quadrant.”

“You mean after the Val Jean was stranded in the Delta Quadrant,” V’tan reminded everyone.  “You were a Maquis then, too, Commander.”

Chakotay shot the Br’nai a hard stare and fought to contain his anger.  “Ambassador,” he said, “I don’t know what you have against me, but I suggest that you leave it outside.  I am a Starfleet officer and I expected to be treated with the same respect you would give to any other officer in this room.”  V’tan looked bemused and did not reply; his aide tapped his fingers nervously on the table.  This infuriated Chakotay even further, but he held his tongue.  He knew he had to be on his best behavior in front of the admirals; his credibility was already in enough danger.

“Does the scenario described by Ambassador V’tan remind you of any Maquis scenario or tactics with which you are familiar?” asked Ross.

“No, sir,” replied Chakotay.  “In fact, I don’t think any of this sounds like the Maquis at all.”

Ten Forward hummed with conversation as Starfleet officers and Br’nai officials milled about, talking and eating hors d’oeuvres.  The Enterprise had arrived at Br’nai a few hours earlier, and the captain was holding a diplomatic reception for the emperor and his guests.      “Admiral, can I get you a drink?” a dark skinned woman in a wide-brimmed hat asked Janeway as she approached the bar.

“No, thank you.”

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman said, extending her hand.  “I’m Guinan.”

Janeway took the proffered hand and clasped it.  “It’s nice to meet you, Guinan.”

“You’re not very happy to be here, are you?”

Janeway’s eyes widened in surprise at the other woman’s frankness, but her shock soon gave way to a small chuckle.  “Is it that obvious?”

Guinan shrugged.  “You came to the bar but you didn’t want a drink.  Usually people only do that when they want to escape from something or someone.”

“I suppose you see a lot of that.”

“Admiral Janeway,” Captain Picard’s voice came from behind her, “I’d like you to meet Emperor Ch’a’fen.”

Turning away from the unusual bartender, Janeway pressed her palms together and bowed in the customary Br’nai greeting.  “Emperor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”  

“Admiral, we thank you for coming all this way.  You honor us with your presence.  Although the alliance between the Br’nai and the Federation was established over a year ago, this is only the second time that Starfleet officers have visited my world.”

“It’s quite far from Earth.”

“Of course.  I assure you, Admiral, your trip will not be in vain.  We have been developing technology that I’m sure will be most useful to the Federation.”  The emperor’s white trousers and white jacket were lined with gold brocade, and a long golden cape flowed over his shoulders and down his back.  The gold of the cape was only a shade darker than the color of his curly hair, and his black eyes contrasted sharply with the light colors he wore.

“I look forward to our negotiations, Your Majesty,” Janeway replied.

“Admiral Janeway has a great deal of diplomatic experience,” put in Picard.  “While in the Delta Quadrant, she made first contact with more species than any Starfleet captain in the last hundred years.”

“I know,” Ch’a’fen replied, flashing Janeway a disarming smile.  “I’ve read about you and Voyager.  Your experiences in the Delta Quadrant must have been fascinating.  Perhaps we can discuss them over dinner while you are here.”

“I’d be honored, Emperor.  I’d very much like to learn more about the history of your world - we know so little about your people.”

“There is a great deal to tell, Admiral Janeway.  My people have a long and complex past.”

“The emperor has arranged a tour of their research facilities for us tomorrow,” explained Picard.  “After that, we’ll begin negotiations.”

“I look forward to it,” said Janeway.  The Br’nai emperor seemed to be studying her carefully, and his intense gaze made her uncomfortable.

“If you’ll excuse me, Admiral?” the captain requested.  She nodded and Picard left her alone with Ch’a’fen.

“Admiral Janeway, will you join me for a drink?”

“I’d be honored, Emperor Ch’a’fen.”  He picked up two tall flutes off of a tray and handed one to her.  The beverage was bubbly and sweet and seemed to evaporate as soon as it hit her tongue.  The emperor led her away from the bar and towards the windows, which offered a perfect view of the planet.  From orbit, it resembled Earth, with several large continents and bodies of water.  Only the colors were different - more purples than blues, more grays than greens.

“Admiral Janeway, I’ve heard you’re quite influential among your people.”

“No more than any other Starfleet admiral.”

“But your fame as the captain who brought Voyager home from the Delta Quadrant in only seven years does give you an elevated status, does it not?  Surely you are more well known than many other admirals.”

The emperor had an easy manner of talking and seemed gracious and kind, and his penetrating gaze had given way to an amiable demeanor.  She had heard that his people loved him, and she was beginning to get a glimpse of why.  Except for the moment when she had felt his scrutiny, he had done everything he could to put her at ease, and she found herself enjoying their banter.  “I suppose I might be more well known than some,” she admitted, “but that will fade with time.”

Ch’a’fen nodded thoughtfully, looking down at his planet.  “I imagine you encountered many different cultures along your journey.”

“Oh, yes.  Unfortunately, many of them were unfriendly to us.”

“What did you do, one ship, alone in hostile territory?”

“We tried to negotiate peacefully as much as we could.  We made alliances when possible.  We fought when we had to.”

The emperor sipped his drink, watching the woman beside him carefully.  She was not what he had expected from V’tan’s description, and, instinctively, he felt an affinity for her.  “And when you encountered inferior races?  What did you do then?”

She turned her head towards him and her steely blue eyes met his black ones.  He saw a hardness in her expression that he had not seen before, and he knew that this was the quality that V’tan had seen as well: strong, unyielding, perhaps even ruthless when necessary.  “Your Highness, I’ve seen many races whose practices I don’t agree with, many whose ideals I have fought against with my life.  I’ve seen those whose traditions seem barbaric, hostile, and even downright evil.  But I’ve never seen anything to make me believe that one race is inherently inferior to another.”

Ch’a’fen regarded her with genuine curiosity.  “You don’t believe that humans are superior to the Borg, for example?”

Janeway couldn’t keep a glimmer of amusement from crossing her face, and when she replied, her tone was proud.  “There is a Borg who became a part of my crew, and I can tell you, she is inferior to no one.”

“But she became a part of your crew and adopted your ways.  Does that not mean she became superior only when she became more like you?”

“My first officer once told me a story about a fox and a scorpion.  The fox let the scorpion ride on its back across a river, but midway across, the scorpion stung the fox and they both drowned.  He told me that our Borg was like the scorpion, that she couldn’t escape her nature, and that she would always act like a Borg because that’s what she is.  Now she’s a very productive member of a community of scientists on Earth.  But just because she has changed her ways doesn’t change what she is, just how she acts.”

“So, there are superior ways of living, but not superior life forms?”

“I think there are ways of living that are more conducive to productivity, ways that promote life, happiness and peace among civilizations.  That’s one of the reasons I have always chosen to uphold the principles of the Federation.”

“If you know what leads to peace, happiness and productivity, is it not your duty to bring others to the same way of living?”

Janeway looked down at the planet and its swirling purple gases.  “I believe that it’s my duty to live by my principles and to share them with others who wish to learn.  I want to ally myself with other people and races who share the same values as I do - freedom, justice, equality, respect - but I can never impose my values by force on a culture or a people that does not desire them.”

“Even if you know that your values are superior to theirs?”  His penetrating gaze had returned.

“Yes.”  Janeway nodded firmly.  “And you, Your Majesty?  Do you feel that you have the right to impose your values on others?”

Before the emperor could reply, a short Br’nai dressed in brown came up behind them.  “Emperor Ch’a’fen?” the short man queried with a bow.  “Pardon the interruption.”

“What is it?” the emperor asked.

“An urgent communication for you, Your Highness,” said the man, bowing again.

Ch’a’fen looked at Janeway apologetically.  “If you’ll excuse me, Admiral?”

“Of course.”  As she watched the emperor leave, Janeway pondered their conversation.  His insistence of the existence of inferior races concerned her, and she filed it away in the back of her mind.  Harry Kim’s wave from the other side of the room brought her attention back to the party.  She walked over to where he was sitting with a couple members of the Enterprise crew.  As she approached, they both excused themselves, and she looked at Harry ruefully.  “Am I that intimidating?”

“Yep,” Harry said, deadpan.  “Everyone is terrified of the great Admiral Janeway.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm as she recognized his jest for what it was.  “Watch out, or I’ll demote you back to ensign.”

Kim smiled, gesturing to the now empty chair beside him.  “Would you like to join me?”  She sat down across from him but remained quiet as her eyes surveyed the room.  “Something on your mind, Admiral?”

She crossed one leg over the other.  “What do you think of the Br’nai, Harry?”

“They seem nice enough.  Why do you ask?”

“I’d like you to join the away team tomorrow,” she replied, avoiding the question.  She saw Harry’s curious glance and gave him a small smile.  “Something doesn’t seem quite right here.  I could use an extra pair of eyes.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” Kim replied.  “You can count on me.”  She smiled and winked at him, and Harry watched with concern as Janeway stood and went to speak to Picard.  He had known her for long enough to realize that she had good instincts.  If she thought something was wrong, it probably was.

The away team consisted of Admiral Janeway, Captain Picard, Harry Kim, Geordi LaForge and Ensign Tobias Nex, a Trill from the science department.  They materialized outside the capitol city of Sri’la on a beautifully manicured lawn.  The research facility consisted of several buildings, all with translucent rooftops and foundations made from some sort of grey mineral.  The complex was impressive, spanning several square kilometers, and a huge oval building protruded from the center of it.  The lawn had a bright green hue, and a large fountain stood in the center of the courtyard.  To the north, the away team could see the towering skyline of Sri’la.

A thin, elderly Br’nai with long limbs and greying hair approached the away team.  He bowed to them in the traditional Br’nai manner.  “I am Dr. R’lar, head of research at the Br’nai Foundation for Scientific Research and Development.  Emperor Ch’a’fen has ordered me to give you a tour of our facilities, and I am honored to comply.”

Picard and Janeway gave R’lar the customary bow.  “I am Admiral Janeway, and this is Captain Picard.”

R’lar bowed to Picard and pressed his lips to Janeway’s hand.  Picard introduced the rest of the away team, and then R’lar led them towards one of the smaller buildings that surrounded the large dome.  He keyed in a code on an access panel and the door slid open, revealing a room divided into several small cubicles.  In each cubicle sat a Br’nai male wearing a visor and sitting in front of a computer terminal.  “These are some of our greatest scientists,” R’lar explained.  “Each of them is linked to their computer through a neural interface.  This interface processes their brain waves and helps them convert the concepts in their minds into blueprints.”

“Impressive,” Geordi breathed.

R’lar heard the comment and smiled proudly.  “I think you’ll find much of our technology will surpass your expectations.”  

“Your facilities are obviously state of the art, Dr. R’lar,” said Picard as the doctor led them towards another building.  

Janeway caught Picard’s eye, understanding the subtext of his statement, and asked, “How did a species as advanced as the Br’nai escape the notice of the Federation for so long?”

“We didn’t escape notice, Admiral Janeway,” said R’lar bitterly.  “Our leaders isolated us.  They told us that contact with other species was dangerous - that it would diminish our greatness and leave us vulnerable and exposed.  When Emperor Ch’a’fen was chosen two years ago, he promised to change all that, and he has.”  R’lar spoke of the emperor with obvious admiration.  

“That must have been a difficult transition after so many years of isolation,” observed Harry.

“It has been a welcome change,” replied R’lar, “one that has been long awaited, especially among the scientific community.”  He led the group across the lawn towards the large dome at the center of the complex.  The sun was warm on their backs as they walked along the path between the buildings.

“Well, Dr. R’lar,” Janeway said, “we hope this exchange will be the first of many between our peoples.  Perhaps in the future we can create a joint team of Federation and Br’nai scientists.”

“Perhaps.”  R’lar stopped just outside of the large dome.  “This is our main production facility where we create prototypes and test our inventions.  Please refrain from using your technology inside of this facility.”

R’lar keyed in the door code, and the away team walked into a vast chamber.  LaForge whistled softly and Harry’s eyes grew wide as he took in the size of the room.  The domed structure seemed larger from the inside than it appeared from the exterior and its translucent roof made it feel as if the building reached the sky.  In the center of the dome stood a massive starship under construction.  In bays around the ship, teams busily built components, and above their heads, conveyor belts moved seamlessly from one side of the dome to the other, laden with parts.  Several bays jutted out of the dome’s walls, providing additional work space.

“As you might imagine, our interstellar travel technology is a bit behind some of our other devices, since our leaders in the past were isolationists,” R’lar explained.  “However, we have had no trouble adapting our technology for space travel.  The ship you see before you is a prototype of a new Br’nai vessel that will rival any of your Starfleet ships.”  Seeing the wary glances from Picard and Janeway, the Br’nai scientist cleared his throat awkwardly.  “I mean, our warp technology will soon be on par with yours.”

“Of course,” said Picard, glancing over at Geordi, who had been quiet ever since they entered the dome.  Most people would be unable to tell when Geordi was adjusting the range of his vision, but Picard knew that was what the other man was doing.

“What alloy are you using for your hull plating?” LaForge asked.

“I’m afraid that is classified,” R’lar replied, “but when Admiral Janeway meets with the emperor, he may choose to disclose that information.”

“Does the emperor oversee your technological endeavors?” asked Picard.

“It is the emperor’s responsibility to oversee the well-being and progress of the Br’nai people.  Our technology is merely one part of his great task.”  R’lar led the team over to one of the side areas where a small group was assembling a device.  “This is the device that you will be discussing with the emperor, Admiral Janeway.  Hin and Wah are assembling a second prototype at the moment, but we have one that is completed and would like to demonstrate it for you.”

“Thank you,” Janeway replied, curious to see the Br’nai technology in action.

“Hin!  Wah!  Come here!” R’lar ordered.  “Activate the prototype and give Admiral Janeway a demonstration of its detection capabilities.”  R’lar tapped a band on his wrist; it beeped and he spoke into it.  “Begin the simulation.”

Suddenly, the away team heard a loud pop as a beam emanated from the prototype.  The beam crackled through the air, illuminating and destroying two small targets.  At the sizzling sound, Kim instinctively jumped in front of Janeway, prepared to protect her from weapons fire.  R’lar chuckled.  “The threat is gone, Lieutenant Commander Kim.  The ‘bombs’ have been neutralized.”

“Once again, very impressive,” said Picard.

“There’s one more building I’d like to show you,” R’lar said.  “It is one of our research labs.”  He led them out of the dome and into another one of the smaller buildings.  Inside, white walls enclosed a sterile smelling room.  Br’nai men in white lab coats moved efficiently, talking quietly to each other.  One of the room’s walls was covered with small stasis units that appeared to contain various types of organs.  Another wall was lined with cages and tanks that held foreign creatures, species the away team had never seen before.  As he looked around the room, Harry Kim felt both intrigued and uneasy; his feelings reminded him of a twentieth century phrase Tom had taught him: he had the heebie-geebies.  

A tall Br’nai man wearing a white lab coat approached the team.  His thinning dark hair was combed over to one side to hide his balding scalp, and a long, angular nose protruded from his face.  Beady, green eyes sat back in his skull and his smile of greeting was not a pretty sight.  The action of curling up the sides of his lips seemed foreign to him, and his obvious discomfort in the presence of strangers made the act seem even more unnatural.

“This is Dr. M’hel,” R’lar introduced the man.  “He is the head of the Foundation and is one of our most prominent scientists.  Dr. M’hel, this is Admiral Janeway, Captain Picard and their team, the visitors from the Federation.”

The doctor regarded them with interest, and Janeway felt his eyes on her, as if he were studying her the way the emperor had.  But while Ch’a’fen’s gaze had been kind enough, M’hel’s made her distinctly uneasy.  “Yes,” he said in a high pitched, nasal voice.  “Now that I can finally expand my work outside of the confines of Br’nai, I’m sure it will only be a matter of time before my scientific breakthroughs are known throughout the Federation.”

“What kind of research do you do?” Janeway asked, eyeing the caged animals along the wall.  They seemed docile - drugged, perhaps.

“I’m not at liberty to divulge all my secrets, but suffice it to say, mine could turn out to be the most important medical research in the history of the galaxy.” 

“What about all those animals in cages?” blurted out Harry Kim.  “What are you doing to them?”

M’hel fixed his green eyes sharply on Kim.  “Don’t be concerned.  None of my experiments cause the creatures any pain, at least not any pain that they remember.”

“You’re doing tests on them?” Janeway asked.  She shuddered involuntarily, recalling the Srivani and the tests they had performed on Voyager’s crew.  It had been one of the most barbaric experiences she could recall from her time in the Delta Quadrant.

“Admiral, please,” the doctor scoffed, “they are inferior species.  At least as a part of my research, their small lives will have some meaning.”

Picard felt Janeway bristle beside him.  “Surely, with all your advanced technology, there is a way to conduct your research without causing harm to innocent life,” he suggested.

M’hel sauntered over to the wall that contained the stasis chambers and picked one up.  “Captain,” he said absently, “surely you know that there is no substitute for living creatures.”  He held up the small container for the team to see.  It contained a multi-chambered purple organ, roughly oval in shape, ten or twelve centimeters in diameter.  Upon closer examination, the members of the team could see that the organ continued to pulse, even though it was disconnected from whatever body it had once occupied.  Kim shuddered.  

“Take this piece of research, for example,” the doctor continued.  “The heart of an aghil.  Studying this little organ has allowed me to devise a new technique for Br’nai heart transplants - one that has already saved dozens of lives.  The life of one aghil, an inferior, ugly, stupid creature, in exchange for the lives of dozens of Br’nai.  No simulation, no technology would have allowed me to devise the treatment I did.  Only a living, pulsating organ held the key.  Or consider diseases of the mind.”  M’hel seemed to forget about his audience as he spoke, absorbed in a vision only he could see.  “No simulation can truly tell you how a creature reacts when stimulated in certain ways.”  He placed the throbbing organ back in its place on the shelf and approached one of the cages.

“Doctor!” Janeway’s voice stopped M’hel in his tracks, and he whirled to look at her, glaring.  “We have encountered other species who feel as you do about these methods of scientific research.  In fact, in the Delta Quadrant, my crew and I were used as lab rats by a race of people who had your attitude.  I can’t stop you from performing your experiments; that is your right.  But we decided long ago on Earth that harming innocent creatures is never an acceptable means to an end, no matter what that end is.  I respect our cultural differences, Doctor, but, please, don’t force us to watch your experiments.  I have no desire to see innocent animals suffer.”

M’hel narrowed his eyes, fixing Janeway with a hard stare, and R’lar, standing next to her, grew increasingly uncomfortable.  He had brought the Federation team here to show them Br’nai’s proudest scientific achievements, not start a diplomatic incident.  As he watched M’hel’s cold expression, he feared for a moment that the doctor was going to lash out at the admiral, but instead, he hissed, “As you wish, Admiral Janeway.”  

R’lar gulped.  He had only rarely seen Dr. M’hel angry, but on those few occasions that he had, there had always been consequences.  Always.  Shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, he cleared his throat loudly.  “Well, we should really be getting along.  Thank you, Dr. M’hel for your time.”

“Yes, thank you, Doctor,” Picard echoed as the team exited the lab.  The tour ended without further incident and a member of the emperor’s staff came to escort the away team to Sri’la.  

Geordi kept thinking back to the alloy the Br’nai were using on their prototype ship.  “Captain, I think I’ve seen that alloy somewhere before,” he said as they stood in the anteroom of the Great Hall, awaiting the emperor’s permission to enter.  “But I can’t place it, and without being able to take any readings, I don’t think I could be sure.”  Geordi sighed.  “I wish Data were here.”  Picard put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed it sympathetically.  They all missed Data every day.    

The imposing gold doors of the Great Hall creaked open, and a small man in a brown tunic stepped out.  He bowed to the away team and said, “The great Emperor Ch’a’fen will receive you now.”

The away team stepped into the Great Hall, a long room decorated entirely in gold and lined with huge pillars.  A white carpet ran down the center of the chamber, ending at a dais.  On the dais, the emperor sat on a golden throne, his long cape flowing over the sides of his chair and down the steps in front of him.  The away team approached the throne and bowed to the emperor in the traditional Br’nai manner.  “Admiral Janeway, Captain Picard,” Ch’a’fen greeted them.  He waved a hand, and the men in brown tunics who lined the room scurried out the door, leaving only the emperor, the away team, and two members of the Royal Guard who stood on either side of the throne.  After the doors had shut and they were alone, the emperor stood and untied his cape, letting it fall back on the chair.  He relaxed and his posture became less formal.  “I have to keep up appearances for the underlings,” he confided to Janeway conspiratorially as he stepped down from the dais.  “How did you enjoy your tour of our facilities?”

“They are very impressive,” replied Picard.

“Emperor, I’m afraid I may have offended one of your scientists, a Dr. M’hel.”  Kathryn had cooled off from her encounter with the doctor and had realized in retrospect that she had not been as diplomatic as she should have been under the circumstances.

“What happened?”  Ch’a’fen began to walk side by side with Janeway along the length of the hall as Picard and the rest of the away team fell into step behind them.

“I expressed my opinion on some of his research methods, but I’m afraid I did so rather strongly.  I’m sorry if I offended him.”

Ch’a’fen sighed.  “Dr. M’hel is a brilliant scientist, but diplomacy isn’t his strong suit.  Frankly, he’s always been a bit of a hot head.  I’ve known him since we were boys, and he hasn’t changed much since then.  He just has more money and resources to pour into his experiments.  I appreciate your apology, Admiral.  We are all new at dealing with outsiders here.  Did Dr. R’lar give you an adequate demonstration of our prototype?”

“Adequate is an understatement, Your Highness.  I’m curious about how you developed this technology in the first place.  I understand that your world was quite isolated before your reign; what use would you have for defensive technology?”

“Our previous leaders kept us isolated because they were paranoid.  They put innumerable resources into developing technology for detecting and deflecting weapons of all kinds.”

“I see.  Well, I am under orders to obtain this technology from you, as I believe you know.”  

Ch’a’fen led her out onto the balcony, separating the two of them from the rest of the away team.  “Yes, I have heard as much from Ambassador V’tan.”

“What can the Federation offer you in return?”  They stood on the veranda overlooking the city.  The sun would soon begin to set, and the city lights started to illuminate in preparation.

“We require nothing in return, Admiral,” replied Ch’a’fen, placing his hands on the railing of the balcony.  “We are allies, are we not?”

“Your generosity is appreciated, Emperor, but I am authorized to negotiate with you on behalf of the Federation.”

“I am aware of this, Admiral Janeway.  We wish to give this technology to Starfleet as a symbol of our goodwill.  My people have waited a long time to escape our isolation; we want to make the most of our opportunities.”

Janeway considered this.  “In that case, we will be happy to take you up on your offer.”  The wind tousled the emperor’s blond curls, blowing them across his face, and Kathryn inhaled the sweet evening air.  “Your research facilities are very advanced.”

“Thank you.  If there was one advantage to being an isolationist society for all those years, it was that we never had any distractions from our research.  For all the damage I think it did, it at least gave us that much.”

“You seem to have delved into a great many fields of research as well.”

“Yes,” replied the emperor.  “Br’nai greatness stems in part from our insatiable scientific curiosity.”

Janeway offered a genuine smile.  “This is something our peoples share, Emperor.”     

“Yes, indeed, it is.”  Ch’a’fen nodded thoughtfully and they retreated from the balcony back into the Great Hall.  

“The Federation appreciates your generosity, Your Majesty,” Janeway said as they walked.  “Captain Picard will arrange the transfer of supplies, and we’ll leave orbit tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Admiral.  I do believe this alliance will serve us both well.”

Janeway and the rest of the away team bowed to the emperor and Janeway tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway to Enterprise, five to beam up.”

“My friend!” V’tan exclaimed as he answered the incoming call on his private channel.  “I’ve been anxiously awaiting your call.”

“I wanted to be thorough in my evaluation,” the emperor replied, “as you would be if you were here.”

“And what conclusion have you reached?”

“I understand why you believe she’s a threat, V’tan.  You’re right, she doesn’t fully understand our position.”  A triumphant smile began to form on V’tan’s face.  “But I believe that she could be persuaded in time.”  The smile stopped, halfway formed.  “She’s a reasonable woman who wants what is best.  This is what’s best for everyone; that’s why we’re fighting for it, and I believe that with the right evidence, Admiral Janeway would come to see that.  It’s largely a matter of wording.  She doesn’t respond well to talk of inferior races, but the truth is, she does believe that there is a superior way of life.  If we could show her that we can bring that superior way of life to others in a peaceful way, I think she would become one of our greatest supporters.”

In a rare display of emotion, V’tan burst out laughing, but he quickly contained himself when he saw Ch’a’fen’s eyes narrowing at him; suddenly they were not the eyes of his best friend, but the eyes of his emperor.  “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said with a bow of his head, forcing his voice to become solemn.

“Why did you laugh, V’tan?”

“You have incredible faith in people, and this woman obviously impressed you in some way.  But don’t forget, she is only a woman, and an alien woman no less.  She may have some redeeming qualities - I don’t think anyone could rise to her position if they didn’t - but don’t let that fool you into believing that she is capable of seeing the truth that is so clear to you and me.  She has fought for her people, for her ways, for her vaunted Federation principles.  And she’s fought for them in hostile territory against all odds.  She’ll uphold those values if it kills her.”  

“But I think...”

“Don’t be naive.”  A pained expression came over the emperor’s face, and V’tan softened his tone.  “You want to believe the best about people, Fen.  You always have.  It’s why our people love you and why your election was such a landslide.  Your faith can serve you well, but it can also make you vulnerable.”

“I’m aware of this weakness, my friend,” Ch’a’fen replied.  “It is one of the reasons I need your counsel so desperately.”

“You truly believe this woman is no threat to our plans?  Are you certain?”

The emperor considered this for a moment.  “Certain?  No.  But I believe that she is intelligent and reasonable.  She is gifted in science and diplomacy, for an alien woman.  And I am certain that she wants to do what’s right; that is important to her.  What we are doing is best for everyone.  She will understand.”

V’tan bowed his head.  “Very well.  I defer to your judgment, Emperor.”

“V’tan, I do expect you to continue to advise me on this matter.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you my friend.  Good evening to you.”

“And to you.”  The transmission ended and V’tan sat back in his chair, shaking his head at Ch’a’fen’s gullibility.  Unlike the emperor, V’tan saw the true potential of the Br’nai alliance with the Federation.  Cooperation would never give him the power he wanted; only coercion could accomplish that.  V’tan knew that he could make the emperor see things his way, but he had something else in mind.  Ch’a’fen would play his part better if he were kept in the dark, and V’tan knew someone else who would be all too happy to deal with Janeway in a way that would eliminate the threat of her presence for good.  He reached to place another call.  

Janeway and Picard sat in his ready room discussing the implications of their meeting on the surface.  They had obtained the Br’nai technology and planned to set course for Earth shortly, but Janeway was troubled by the conversation she’d had with Dr. M’hel.  “Maybe it’s my own prejudices,” she admitted.  “Our encounter with the Srivani was one of the most disturbing experiences I’ve ever had.  One of their experiments killed a member of my crew.”  

“And you see alarming echoes of that behavior in Dr. M’hel’s research?” Picard asked, sipping his earl grey tea.

She nodded.  “I can’t help but wonder if allying ourselves with the Br’nai is a mistake.”

Picard chuckled softly.  “This from the woman who formed an alliance with the Borg?”

“Perhaps not one of my best command decisions.”

“Bridge to Picard,” Commander Madden’s voice came over the comm.

“Picard here.”

“There’s an incoming transmission for Admiral Janeway, sir, from the surface.”

“Patch it through to my ready room, Commander.”  

Janeway was surprised when R’lar’s face appeared on the screen.  “Admiral Janeway,” he said, “I’m so glad the Enterprise hasn’t left orbit yet.”

“What can I do for you, Dr. R’lar?”

“Well, Admiral, Dr. M’hel felt terrible about the way your conversation went this afternoon.  The emperor told him of your apology and he wishes to return the gesture.  He knows you are a scientist, and he has some new research he’s working on - research that doesn’t involve the kind of experimentation you saw today - that he’d like to share with you.  We would be honored if you would return to our facility.”  

Janeway studied the man carefully.  His eyes darted from side to side nervously.  But she saw an opportunity to learn more about the Br’nai, and she was not about to pass it up.  “Thank you, Dr. R’lar.  Tell Dr. M’hel I accept his invitation.”

“Wonderful, Admiral!”  He paused.  “This research is very sensitive.  The doctor doesn’t wish to share it with many people.  You may bring another person with you if you wish, but, please, not a large team this time.  Is that acceptable?”

Glancing at Picard, trying to get his read on the situation, Janeway assented and ended the transmission.  “What do you think?” she asked the captain.

“You obviously have your doubts.”

Janeway sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.  “Something doesn’t feel right.  But maybe if I go down there, I can figure out what it is.”

“You suspect a trap of some kind?”

“Maybe.  I don’t trust Dr. M’hel, but the emperor seems honest.  Besides, why would they orchestrate some kind of elaborate deception?  We have a treaty with them.  They claim to be our allies.  They’re giving us this technology.”

“I don’t know,” Picard admitted, “but I think you should follow your instincts.”

Janeway nodded.  “I’ll go, but I’ll take Commander Kim with me.”  She tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway to Kim.”

“Kim here, Admiral.”

“Report to transporter room one immediately.”

“On my way, Admiral.  Kim out.”

Janeway stood.  “Well, Captain, let’s see what the Br’nai really want.”

A few minutes later, when Janeway and Kim rematerialized at the Br’nai research facility, R’lar greeted them exuberantly.  “Admiral!  We’re so glad you were able to return.  Please, right this way.  Dr. M’hel is waiting for you.”

Janeway and Kim followed R’lar into one of the buildings they had not entered during their earlier visit.  M’hel stood inside the door.  “Admiral.”  His tone was sickly sweet, and his exaggerated politeness seemed as unnatural now as his smile had earlier.  “Please, allow me to accept your apology.”

Janeway gestured subtly for Harry to stay close.  “Thank you, Doctor.  I realized after our conversation that I had allowed my past experiences to color my judgment of your work.”

M’hel smirked and led Janeway across the room, which looked much like the facilities they’d seen earlier, filled with computer consoles and research areas.  The lab was deserted, and Janeway felt her uneasiness grow.  

R’lar spoke urgently from across the room.  “Doctor, the containment field in this lab is fluctuating.  I’m getting some anomalous readings...”  R’lar sounded as if he were about to panic, and Kim moved quickly to help him.  

Janeway tried to move towards them as well, but she felt a strong hand on her arm, holding her in place.  A deafening bang filled the room, and a flash of light enveloped her.  She attempted to pull away from the hand gripping her arm, but she was unable to move.  “Harry!” she screamed.  “Harry!”  A searing pain ripped through her entire body, and then... nothing.

Harry Kim opened his eyes, surprised to find himself staring into the concerned face of Dr. Beverly Crusher.  Then, the events of the day came rushing back to him.  “Admiral Janeway!” he exclaimed, attempting to bolt upright.

Crusher’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.  “Please try to relax, Commander.”

He lay back down, trying to think clearly through the pounding in his head.  “What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

Harry squinted against the light as a cool hypospray pressed against his neck, and he tried to clear the fog in his mind.  “I transported to the surface with Admiral Janeway.  Dr. R’lar met us and showed us to a research lab where Dr. M’hel was waiting.  She had a bad feeling about it.  I could tell.”

“Then what?” prompted Crusher.

“Dr. M’hel pulled the admiral into a corner to show her something.  I was right next to her until R’lar said there was a problem with... with the containment field.  I went over to him, and then...  And then...”  He paused.  “That’s all I remember.”

“That’s what they told us,” Crusher mused quietly.

Harry moved his head, looking around sickbay, only to find that the remaining biobeds were empty.  “Where’s Admiral Janeway?”

“We’ve been unable to locate her.”

“She’s missing?!” Harry exclaimed.  “She was right there in the same room as me.  How could she be missing?”  This time the doctor couldn’t stop Harry from sitting up.

“So far, the Br’nai haven’t allowed us to send a team down to the planet.  It was hard enough getting them to release you into my care.”

The sickbay doors opened and Captain Picard strode in.  “Commander, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.  Captain, we need to send an away team to the surface right away!”

Picard and Crusher exchanged a look over Kim’s head.  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Commander.  The Br’nai won’t allow us to send anyone into their facility.  The emperor is only allowing their own most highly trained investigators into the area.  They are in the process of a full investigation and will share their findings with us.”

“But Admiral Janeway!” Kim protested.

Picard laid his hand on Kim’s shoulder.  “Harry, we just got word from the Br’nai.  Admiral Janeway is dead.  I’m sorry.”

Harry stood, grabbing the edge of the biobed for support.  He felt unsteady on his feet and the room began to whirl around him, but he forced himself to focus through the dizziness.  “That’s not possible, Captain.  She was right next to Dr. M’hel at the time of the explosion.  If she died, he would have died as well.”

Picard shook his head.  “The Br’nai investigators told us that Admiral Janeway was much closer to the center of the explosion than the rest of you.”

“I’m sure that she was right next to the doctor.”

“You said you went over to help Dr. R’lar with something right before the explosion.  Isn’t it possible that either the doctor or Admiral Janeway moved during those few moments?” Crusher asked.

Harry considered this, sitting back down on the biobed, willing his head to stop spinning.  “I guess it’s possible.”

“Mr. Kim, why don’t you tell me exactly what you remember,” offered the captain.

Harry related the sequence of events from the moment of his and Janeway’s transport to the surface.  He included as many details as he could remember.  As he described the explosion, he remembered something he had forgotten before.  “Her voice!” he exclaimed.  “I heard the admiral’s voice.  After the explosion.  I heard her calling my name.  I’m sure of it.”

Picard looked at Crusher.  She shrugged.  “I suppose it’s possible, Captain, but I doubt it.  It’s unlikely that Mr. Kim was conscious to hear anything after the explosion.”

Kim looked at his captain with earnest eyes.  “I swear to you, Captain.  I heard Admiral Janeway call my name.  I’m certain it was after the explosion occurred.  She has to be alive.  She has to be.”

“Very well, Mr. Kim.  I’ll speak to the emperor one more time and ask him to allow the Enterprise to send a team.  But I can’t make any guarantees.”

With a heavy sigh, Emperor Ch’a’fen watched the screen go blank and sat back in his chair.  He had just informed Captain Picard that the research laboratory where Admiral Janeway had been killed was not safe for a Starfleet team, and he refused to risk the lives of any other Federation personnel.  Starfleet would not be allowed to send a team to the area under any circumstances.  Only the most highly trained Br’nai investigators would be allowed in until the cause of the explosion had been determined.  Ch’a’fen had already ordered M’hel and R’lar to submit a full report on the incident.  R’lar had seemed nervous, and M’hel had been more concerned about repairs to his lab than the admiral’s life.  But that was not unusual for the doctor.  

For as long as Ch’a’fen could remember, he and M’hel had not seen eye to eye.  While Ch’a’fen was concerned about the moral implications of every decision, no matter how small, M’hel’s only interest was scientific advancement.  Ch’a’fen had had doubts when V’tan had enlisted M’hel’s help in their rebellion, but V’tan had ensured him that they needed the scientist.  Looking back, the emperor had to admit that his friend had been right.  M’hel had developed the secret communications array that had allowed the rebels knowledge of life outside Br’nai.  His research had helped them create the rudimentary warp ship that had finally attracted the attention of the Federation.  And even though he hated to admit it, M’hel’s weapons had helped the rebels win countless battles against the oppressive government they opposed.

Sometimes, Ch’a’fen longed for the days of those battles, the secret meetings in underground caverns, the sleepless nights when he, V’tan and Ky’len had plotted their next move by candlelight, scraping together a few crusts of stale bread and sharing their last cup of tirin between them.  In those days, their lives had been in constant danger.  Anyone who disagreed with Emperor Zi’le’gat conveniently disappeared.  Other members of their rebel group had been tortured and returned to them, barely recognizable.  It had been a terrible time, but their enemy had been clear.  He had known, then, with certainty, what was right and what was wrong.

Now he and V’tan had achieved the world they had spoken of as boys.  They ruled Br’nai, they had formed an alliance with the Federation, and they had ended the era of isolationism and paranoia.  But now, nothing was clear.  A Starfleet admiral had been killed on his world; what would the consequences be to their precious alliance?  M’hel was in a position of unbridled power, and Ch’a’fen knew he could not control him.  V’tan had assured him that everything would be fine and told him not to worry, but Ch’a’fen could not help but worry.  In the days of the rebellion, he had known where to look for his enemies.  Now, he had no idea who his enemies were.

Harry Kim walked through the corridors of the Enterprise in a daze.  The captain had just gotten word that his final request to send a team to the surface had been denied.  The Br’nai refused to let anyone see the crime scene but their own police force, and Picard was forced to respect their wishes.  Harry could tell that the captain wanted to mount an investigation as much as he did, but he knew that no one, including Admiral Janeway, would want them to risk war with the Br’nai.

The situation didn’t sit well with Kim.  The Br’nai still insisted that Admiral Janeway had been much closer to the center of the explosion than the remaining three people in the room, and Harry was sure that wasn’t true.  He knew that he had seen her standing right next to Dr. M’hel only a second or two before the explosion occured.  He was also sure he had heard her calling his name after the loud bang, no matter what Dr. Crusher said about his state of unconsciousness.

He couldn’t believe that Kathryn Janeway was dead.  He just couldn’t.  He felt a lump forming in his throat and swallowed angrily, trying to force it back down.  If the admiral really was dead, it was his fault.  He was supposed to protect her - that was why she had brought him to the surface with her - and he had failed.  He entered his quarters and sat down at his desk, his heart sinking.  He knew who he had to call; this was a call he’d hoped he would never have to make.

Chapter Text

8

Unfinished Business

“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.”
    -Vincent van Gogh

Nothing.  That was what his search had turned up so far: nothing.  Chakotay had been over every iota of data that Starfleet had collected on the Maquis during the Dominion War.  He had focused his attention on Sveta and her cell, but nothing he had seen could convince him that she had planned the Paris bombings.  He and Sveta had been close, and he couldn’t imagine her deciding to murder innocent civilians, even if it meant escape for her and the other Maquis.  

Chakotay sat back in his chair with a sigh, rubbing his temples.  He couldn’t stand sitting and waiting for someone to do something, so he had decided to do a little digging.  As he learned more about the mysterious disappearance of Sveta’s ship, it became clear to him that he would have to go to Deep Space Nine to find out what had really happened.  Since Starfleet had asked him to remain in San Francisco until the matter was resolved, that didn’t seem like the most prudent course of action at the moment.  

His computer terminal beeped, indicating an incoming subspace transmission.  He felt a wave of anticipation flow through him, hoping it was from Kathryn.  He’d only spoken to her once since she’d left for Br’nai over two weeks earlier.  He answered the transmission eagerly, but it wasn’t Kathryn’s face that appeared on the screen before him; it was Harry Kim’s.  One look at Harry’s face told him something terrible had happened, and Chakotay’s anticipation was replaced by fear.  “Harry, what is it?”

Kim swallowed hard and looked like he might cry.  Chakotay feared Harry’s words before he said them.  “It’s Admiral Janeway.”

“What happened?”  Chakotay fought to keep his voice calm.  “Is she all right?”

Harry took a deep breath and steeled himself before he said, “She’s dead, Chakotay.”

Chakotay felt as though time had stopped.  He couldn’t move; he couldn’t speak; he couldn’t breathe.  Several moments elapsed before he found his voice.  “That’s not possible.”

“I can hardly believe it myself.”

“What happened?”

Harry recounted the details of the Enterprise’s mission to Br’nai.  “I should have kept her safe, Commander.  I’m sorry.”

Chakotay could see the guilt eating away at Kim.  “It’s not your fault, Harry,” he said, although his insides felt cold.  Harry hesitated, and Chakotay looked at him closely.  “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“I’m not sure if I should even mention it.”

“Tell me.”

Kim told Chakotay about his misgivings - his certainty that the Br’nai doctor had been standing right next to the admiral at the time of the explosion and the knowledge that he’d heard her voice after she was supposed to have been dead.

“You think she’s still alive?” Chakotay asked, fighting against the hope that began to rise in him.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, Commander,” said Harry, “but I think it’s possible.”

Chakotay’s mind began to race.  What motive would the Br’nai have for faking Kathryn’s death?  Perhaps there had been more to his instinctive dislike of V’tan than the ambassador’s unsavory personality.  “Harry, send me all the data you have on the explosion.  In fact, send me all the data you collected during your time on the planet.  I’m going to see what I can do here.”

For the first time in the conversation, Kim’s eyes held the glimmer of a smile.  “Aye, Commander.  I’ll speak with Captain Picard about it, but I’m sure he’ll agree.  I’ll transmit the data right away.  Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.  Kim out.”

Chakotay would be able to do his own analysis of the facts, but what he really needed was someone whose investigative skills far outclassed his own, someone whose impeccable logic wouldn’t be compromised by his strong feelings, someone who always got to the bottom of any issue, no matter how complex.  It was time to call an old friend.

The light was too bright.  It hurt her eyes, and she closed them again to avoid the harsh whiteness.  Images came rushing at her: beaming down to the planet, her brief conversation with Dr. M’hel, burning agony.  She remembered pain searing along her back as if it came from the inside of her body.  She remembered a bright light shining in her eyes and voices around her speaking a language she couldn’t understand.

Kathryn Janeway’s eyes snapped open.  Where was she?  She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light and slowly turned her head to one side and then the other, testing her mobility.  She seemed to be able to move, and she sat up, taking in her surroundings.  She was in some sort of cell - four solid walls of the same grey metal alloy, furnished with a single cot.  A small doorway on one side of the room led to a tiny bathroom with a toilet and sink.  She stood slowly and began to run her hands along the walls, looking for a defect or any sign of a mechanism that might open a door, but she found nothing.  Her mind was racing.  She guessed she was being held by the Br’nai, but what did they want with her?  Hoping to ease the soreness in her aching muscles, Kathryn began to walk slowly around the room and set her mind to formulating a plan.

“Come in, Commander Chakotay,” said Admiral Nechayev as she gestured towards her office.  

Chakotay entered and saw that not only Admiral Ross, but also Ambassador V’tan was present.  After his last encounter with the Br’nai ambassador, Chakotay had hoped to avoid him, but he tried to hide his disdain and extended a courteous hand, which the ambassador took reluctantly.  “Ambassador V’tan, it’s nice to see you again.”  

“Have a seat, Commander,” offered Nechayev.  Her office contained a spacious anteroom with a conference table where there was plenty of space for the four of them.  “Commander, I understand you wish to discuss the incident that occurred on Br’nai last week.”

“Yes.  I wish to present some new evidence regarding the supposed death of Admiral Janeway.”

“Supposed death?” asked Nechayev.  “Have you uncovered proof that the admiral is alive?”

“Nothing conclusive,” Chakotay admitted, “but I believe we have enough evidence to warrant further investigation.”

“Who authorized you to conduct an investigation, Commander?” asked V’tan.  

“Captain Picard of the Enterprise.  What Lieutenant Commander Kim told me about the incident didn’t add up, and Captain Picard authorized him to share his findings with me.  I thought the investigation could use a fresh pair of eyes, so I contacted Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and transmitted the data to him.”

“Tell us what you found, Commander,” said Ross.

Chakotay took out a PADD and laid it on the table.  “When he analyzed the data more closely, Tuvok discovered that one of the compounds involved in the explosion is a derivative of utritium.”

“Utritium?” asked Nechayev, turning to V’tan.  “What are your people doing with utritium?”

“We experiment with a many chemicals in our research facilities,” replied V’tan smoothly.  “I can’t tell you the details of how we use this one.”

“Can’t or won’t?” asked Chakotay, but he silenced himself when Ross glared at him.

“Commander, are you suggesting that I might have had something to do with Admiral Janeway’s death?” the ambassador asked indignantly.

“Did you?” Chakotay snapped, unable to hold his tongue.

“I’m sure the commander meant nothing of the sort,” Nechayev cut them both off.  “Ambassador V’tan, utritium is an extremely volatile compound that is frequently used in explosive devices.  Can you tell us what it was doing in your research laboratory?”

“As I said, Admiral,” replied V’tan, his cool exterior returning, “we use many chemical compounds in our scientific research.  I can assure you, we are not employing it for any activities that are illegal on my world.  Beyond that, I have no information to give you.”

Nechayev sighed.  She didn’t much like the ambassador’s explanation, but she had to accept it.  She made a mental note to send further investigative teams to the Br’nai research laboratories and turned back to Chakotay.  “Was there anything else, Commander?”

“If Admiral Janeway was killed in the lab, there should have been some evidence of it: residual DNA, her communicator casing, but there was nothing in the data the Br’nai sent us.  Doesn’t this strike you as a bit odd?”

Before either admiral could reply, V’tan spoke up.  “Obviously, you missed the final evidence our investigation uncovered, Commander.”

As Chakotay regarded V’tan, he could have sworn that the alien’s silver eyes were mocking him behind his implacable expression.  “What are you talking about?”

“The Br’nai investigative teams found residual DNA from Admiral Janeway right near the site of the explosion.  Here, take a look.”  V’tan produced a PADD from somewhere within his long black cape and handed it to Admiral Ross, who examined it and passed it to Chakotay.

Chakotay stared at the PADD.  There it was, Kathryn’s DNA on samples of material from the research lab.  “This can’t be right,” he said under his breath.

V’tan heard him.  “It most certainly is right, Commander Chakotay.  At our last meeting, you accused me of having something against you.  Perhaps it is you who has something against me, trying to cast suspicion on my people for what was only an accident.”

“Ambassador,” said Nechayev, trying to smooth things over, “no one has accused you or your people of any wrongdoing.  Commander Chakotay and the admiral were very close; it’s only natural that he would want to exhaust every possible avenue of investigation before accepting her death.”  She paused.  “Are you satisfied, Commander?  You’ve seen the proof with your own eyes.”

Chakotay pursed his lips together.  Was it possible that Kathryn was really dead?  “May I take this?” he asked, holding the PADD.  Nechayev nodded.  Chakotay knew that he should let the matter rest, but he couldn’t.  This was Kathryn’s life.  He turned to V’tan.  “Ambassador, now that that the lab is safe again, would you consider allowing a Starfleet team to investigate the scene?”

“I’m afraid that would be impossible.  By now, reconstruction has already begun.  We cannot allow outsiders access to our classified research.”

Chakotay bit his tongue, holding back the accusation of a cover-up.  He knew that it would not serve him to antagonize the admirals any more than he already had.  

“Ambassador,” Nechayev said, “thank you for your assistance in this matter.”  She turned to Chakotay.  “Commander, I’m sorry for your loss.  I wish there was more we could have done for Admiral Janeway.  We will all miss her.”

As anger welled up inside of him, Chakotay acknowledged Nechayev and Ross tersely, then stormed out of the room.  It was all just a little too convenient.  The ambassador showing up with the exact evidence he needed at the precise moment he needed it?  How could the research lab already be under reconstruction so soon after the accident?  On top of that, there was something about the Br’nai ambassador that gave Chakotay the creeps; he didn’t trust V’tan at all.  And Kathryn.  Was she really dead?  His breath caught in his chest when he considered the possibility.  She couldn’t be gone, not with so much of her life still ahead of her, not with so much unfinished between them.

A white light shone directly in her face, blinding her, as a deep male voice spoke words she could not understand.  She could not see anything but the blinding whiteness, but she could feel cold, clammy hands on her arms and legs.  Someone grabbed her, restraining her movement and shouting unintelligible words over her head, and she cried out in pain.  A pinprick in her side, and then a searing fire in her blood told her she had been injected with something.  She tried to call out, but her mouth would not respond to her brain’s commands, and the voices and sights around her melted into a blurry fog.

“Kathryn, where are you?” her mother asked in despair.  “You said you would be safe.  Please don’t leave me again, my golden bird.  I’ve already lost you once.  I cannot stand to lose you again.”

She tried to call out to her mother, to tell her that she was here, that she needed help, but her lips would not move.  She could not speak.  Mother, I’m here! she thought, but no one could hear her.  Hazy figures swirled in front of her vision, but she could not distinguish one from another.

“Kathryn.”  This time the voice was Chakotay’s.  “We have so much unfinished business, don’t we?  Do you regret that we never revisited the conversation we started in Paris?  I do.”

Again, she tried to open her mouth, to tell him that it was better this way, for the conversation to be left unfinished, since she was lost and would never return to him.

Although the power of speech deserted her, he seemed to read her mind.  “Don’t think that way, Kathryn.  Don’t give up.  You will find a way out of this place.  I know you.  You will find a way.”

Kathryn awoke suddenly, gasping for breath as she realized that she had been dreaming.  It took her several moments to realize that she was back in her prison cell, lying on her cot.  She had tried to keep track of the days at first, but day blended into night, and she had lost count.  Three times since her capture, two Br’nai males in white tunics had entered her room and injected her with some kind of sedative.  Afterwards, she awoke, disoriented.  It terrified her that she could remember nothing about what happened to her during these periods of sedation.  

At regular intervals, a Br’nai girl in a simple brown dress brought her meals.  The girl’s comings and goings had allowed Kathryn a glimpse of the corridor, which was lined with imposing figures dressed in black and holding long rifles.  She had pondered escape, but even if she could overwhelm the serving girl, she would never be able to get past the guards.  She had tried to speak to the girl and the men who came to sedate her, but none of them would breathe a word to her.  

She stood from the bed, testing her muscles, and felt a sharp pain shoot down her back.  “Oh!” she cried, bracing herself against the wall.  She took deep breaths, allowing the ache to subside before she tried to move again.  She walked slowly along one wall of her cell, loosening the tight muscles in her back and willing the throbbing to lessen.

To distract herself from the soreness, Janeway turned her mind to other questions.  Had Starfleet attempted a rescue and failed?  Were they negotiating for her release?  What had happened to Harry, who had been with her when she was taken?  Was he being held in another cell?  If he was, she knew that her top priority had to be to get to him.

She wished she knew what the Br’nai wanted with her.  No one had made any demands or asked her for anything.  She feared that they were extracting information from her by force and using her to gain access to classified tactical data while she lay sedated on one of Dr. M’hel’s operating tables.  Did the Br’nai plan to attack the Federation?  If so, why were they pretending to be the Federation’s allies?  Why give them valuable technology?  Or had she been captured by the insane Dr. M’hel without the sanction of his government?  He had been the one who had invited her to return to the surface.  Her mind raced through endless possibilities and explanations, and she began to catalogue them, determining which ones were most likely and formulating hypothetical scenarios in her mind.  

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door to her cell slid open, revealing Dr. M’hel.  “Admiral Janeway,” he said in his high pitched, nasal voice, “I trust that you are enjoying your stay.”

“This is an outrage, Doctor.  The Federation will not tolerate this crime.  Kidnapping of a Starfleet admiral...”    

M’hel cut her off.  “Everyone in the Federation thinks you’re dead, Admiral, so don’t count on the gallant Captain Picard coming to rescue you.”

Kathryn froze.  M’hel’s statement confirmed her worst fears, but she wasn’t willing to take his word at face value.  “Starfleet is very thorough.  Captain Picard would never leave Br’nai without incontrovertible proof that I was dead.”

“They have incontrovertible proof,” M’hel replied smoothly.  “Proof which I provided for them.”

“What do you want, Doctor?  Why am I being held here?”

The corner of M’hel’s mouth turned up in a sneer.  “Was it just a few days ago that you were sympathizing with the poor inferior creatures in my laboratory, Janeway?  Well, congratulations.  You’ve just become the latest addition to their ranks.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

M’hel laughed, emitting a hideous noise as his face contorted in an expression meant to resemble joy.  “I think I already have, Admiral.”  He looked triumphant as he scurried away down the corridor, and the door to the cell closed behind him.  

Kathryn, left alone, seethed.  She refused to be used as a lab rat by the maniacal Br’nai doctor.  She would find a way out of this.  She didn’t know how yet, but, somehow, she would get out of this cell.

Carefully, Chakotay unrolled his medicine bundle, placing it on the floor of his living room.  He dimmed the lights and put his hand on the akoonah.  “Akoochemoya.  I seek the guidance of the spirits in the ancient tradition of my people.”  His eyes drifted closed as the akoonah lulled him into unconsciousness.

Chakotay found himself in a dense forest at dusk.  The afterglow of the sunset loomed on the horizon and a hawk screeched as it glided over his head.  He often met his animal guide in this place, and he wasn’t surprised when she emerged from the underbrush.

“You are troubled,” she said.

“Yes.”

“What troubles you, Chakotay, son of Kolopak?”

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.  “I’ve always believed in accepting whatever life deals me and making the most of it.”

“But you cannot do that now?”

Chakotay sat down on a large rock, inhaling the damp, earthy scent of the forest.  “My... friend is dead, or that is what I am told.  I always thought I’d know somehow if she died.  I don’t know why I’ve believed that, but I have.  Now I know I need to accept the truth, but I don’t want to believe she’s gone.”

His spirit guide circled him, regarding him carefully.  “Unproven facts are not facts, Chakotay.  Remember that.  Remember...”

Chakotay’s eyes snapped open, and he looked down at his medicine bundle, his spirit guide’s words still ringing in his ears.  He gritted his teeth in determination.  Unproven facts are not facts.  Unbidden, Kathryn’s voice entered his mind: “Someday I may have to let go...  But not today, okay?”  Not today, he thought, his resolve strengthening as he closed his medicine bundle and replaced it on the shelf.  Not today.

The oven timer beeped, and Gretchen Janeway walked towards it to remove her casserole.  Since Owen’s call that morning, she had been moving about in a daze.  Kathryn was gone, again.  When Voyager had disappeared, Gretchen had held out hope for a long time, and when Starfleet finally made contact with her daughter’s ship in the Delta Quadrant, she had felt as though her prayers had been answered.  Now, she couldn’t help but wonder if another miracle was too much to ask for.

Gretchen felt the tension in her shoulders as she pulled out ingredients for a salad.  Kathryn, gone again.  Was it true?  She didn’t want to believe it, but as a woman who had been dealing with Starfleet her entire adult life, she knew that eventually, she might have to accept it.  As she pulled apart a head of lettuce, anger rushed through her.  Starfleet had taken her beloved Edward from her too soon, and then it had taken her daughter away for seven long years.  Would it now claim Kathryn’s life before she even reached the age of fifty?  Was Gretchen doomed to outlive her entire family?  As she shredded the lettuce into smaller and smaller pieces, angry tears began to stream down her cheeks.  Over and over, she pulled at the lettuce, ripping it as if its destruction could bring back her daughter.

The comm beeped, and Gretchen wiped her eyes, answering the call with a dishtowel in hand.  “Mrs. Janeway?”  A familiar face appeared on the viewer.

“Chakotay.  Please, call me Gretchen.”

Chakotay peered at her through the screen.  “Are you all right?”

She became conscious of her tear stained cheeks.  “Oh... yes... Of course.  I’m fine.  I was just... chopping an onion.”

Chakotay gave her a soft smile.  “Onions always make me cry.  Can you imagine, a big guy like me, tears streaming down my cheeks, all because of an onion?”    

Gretchen couldn’t help but laugh.  She knew he hadn’t believed her for a second, but she appreciated his attempt to lift her spirits.  “You didn’t call me talk about cooking.”

“No.  I called to talk about Kathryn.”

“Owen told me the news this morning.”  She studied his image; Chakotay appeared to be struggling with something, trying to decide whether or not to tell her.  “What is it?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, Mrs. Janeway...”

“Gretchen,” she corrected him.

“Gretchen.  But I thought you should know.  I’m not convinced that Kathryn is dead.”  At her sharp intake of breath, he held up a hand.  “I don’t have any solid proof, but there are a lot of things that don’t add up.  I wanted you to know that I’m going to do my best to find out what really happened, and to find Kathryn... if she’s alive.”

Gretchen let out a long breath.  “Thank you, Chakotay.  I guess the odds aren’t in our favor.”  

“Kathryn’s an expert at beating the odds.”

“So she is.  She’s come back to me more than once.”

He looked away from the screen, his own emotions threatening to spill out.  “Me, too.”

“Chakotay, if anyone can find out what happened, it’s you.  I know we’ve only met a few times, but I feel like I know you - from Kathryn’s letters.”  He looked up in surprise and Gretchen cocked her head in a gentle way that reminded him so much of Kathryn that he had to bite back a cry of anguish.  “I know you’ll do everything you can for her.”

He nodded, unable to summon the words for a reply.

Gretchen’s heart went out to this man.  She knew that he and Kathryn had been close friends, knew from Kathryn’s letters how he’d cared for her in the Delta Quadrant, and she suspected that his feelings for her daughter went deeper than mere professional courtesy.  From the haunted look in his eyes, she had an inkling of what Kathryn’s disappearance must be doing to him.  “I just took a casserole out of the oven, Commander.  Indiana’s just a short transport away from San Francisco if you’d like to join us for dinner.”

“Thank you, Mrs... Gretchen, but I have a lot of work to do.”

“Of course.”

He looked at her closely.  “Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine.  Phoebe and her family are on their way here right now.”

“Good.  You know how to reach me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine, Chakotay.  But thank you.”

“I’m going to do everything in power to make sure that Kathryn comes home to you.”

“I know you will, dear,” Gretchen replied, swallowing her tears.  “I know you will.”  As she ended the communication, she could only hope that what was in Chakotay’s power would be enough.

Voyager came to life.  For the first time in almost two years, her bridge hummed with activity.  Doors swished open and closed like unused lungs expanding and contracting, and panels that had long been dark suddenly illuminated.  The bustle of red, yellow and blue uniforms moving through the ship revived her like an infusion of new blood.  

In engineering, B’Elanna Torres checked one last reading before she looked at Vorik with a small smile.  “Bring the warp core online.”

Even Vorik felt a hint of anticipation as he replied, “Yes, ma’am.”  With a burst of blue light, Voyager’s new warp core began to pulse gently, the heart beating at the core of a living, breathing ship.

Lieutenant Commander Tuvok walked through the ship’s corridors, his destination: the bridge - the ship’s mind, if she were an organism.  Tuvok was hardly sentimental, nor did he think of Voyager as a living entity the way many of the human crew did - he had heard Admiral Janeway talk to the ship on many occasions - but the activity aboard did almost make it seem as though the vessel had been resurrected from the dead, and Tuvok felt satisfied.

He had known for some time that he would captain Voyager’s test run after his work at the Vulcan Science Academy had led to the successful development of the slipstream drive.  What he had not known was that he would get word of Kathryn Janeway’s apparent death just four days before the launch.  When Commander Chakotay had contacted him and asked for his help in reviewing the data surrounding her disappearance, he had not hesitated.  There were too many inconsistencies for his liking, and, like Chakotay, he felt further investigation was warranted.  Despite his findings, their hands seemed to be tied where Starfleet was concerned.  However, if he knew Kathryn Janeway, she would find a way to let someone know she was alive, if indeed she was.

The turbolift doors swished open and he stepped out.  “Captain on the bridge,” Tom Paris said with a smile, and the bridge crew stood to greet him.

“At ease,” Tuvok said, taking a few steps and settling into the captain’s chair.  “Bridge to engineering.  Status.”

“The warp core is online,” Lieutenant Torres responded.  “Slipstream drive is functioning within normal parameters.  We’re good to go down here.”

“We will test the warp drive first.  Bridge out.”  Tuvok turned to Paris.  “Helm?”

“All systems reporting normal, sir,” Tom replied with a wink.  Paris was like a small child at times; he could barely contain his excitement.

Tuvok checked in with the remaining departments and set his gaze straight ahead at the view screen.  “Take us out, Mr. Paris.  One quarter impulse.”

“One quarter impulse.”  The docking clamps released with a small jolt and Voyager moved forward slowly, her hull sparkling under Utopia Planetia’s bright lights.  She emerged from the docking bay into the vast expanse of space, and at the helm, Tom Paris grinned.  This was where he belonged.

“Set a course.  One four seven mark one eight.  Warp one.”

Even though Tom had never been hugely fond of the stoic Vulcan, he was glad it was Tuvok and not some uppity Starfleet captain who had been chosen for this mission.  With the exceptions of Chakotay and Kathryn Janeway, there was no one he’d rather have in the command chair than Tuvok.  Tom felt a wave of melancholy wash over him.  This was a moment that Janeway would have wanted to see.  The news of her death had hit both him and B’Elanna hard, but after hearing what Harry had to say, they were hopeful that somehow she was still alive.  Tom blinked and brought his attention back to the task at hand, examining the course at the tips of his fingers.  He couldn’t stop the thrill that ran through him; he was the first pilot at the helm of the first Starfleet quantum slipstream powered vessel.  He smiled again.  “Course plotted and laid in, sir.”

“Engage,” Tuvok ordered.

With a flick of Tom’s finger, Voyager’s new warp drive burst into action, propelling the sleek, silver ship forward in a streak of blue light.

“Professor Chakotay!  Professor Chakotay!”  He whirled around as he heard the voice and saw Gabrielle running up behind him.  As he turned, he noticed a figure clad in inconspicuous grey following in his footsteps.  He had noticed the man a few moments earlier as he had left his office at the Academy, and here he was again.  He looked as though he was trying to make sure no one noticed him.  It was the sort of thing most Starfleet officers might not pick up on, but in the Maquis, Chakotay had learned to recognize a tail.  

Gabrielle reached his side, and he greeted her as he began to walk again, pretending he had not noticed the man.  “Cadet.”

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to look at my paper, Commander.”

He chuckled.  “You finished it already?”

“It’s just a draft.  Do you think you’d have time to look at it over the next couple days?  I could really use some pointers.”  Chakotay was distracted as he casually glanced behind them.  “Professor?” Gabriella prompted.

The man was still trailing him.  Any hopes he’d had that his suspicions were unfounded were quickly evaporating.  “Oh, sorry, Gabriella.  Yes, I’d be happy to take a look at your paper.”

She peered at him, her dark eyes filling with concern.  “Are you all right, Commander?” she asked.  “I heard about Admiral Janeway’s disappearance.”  Gabriella could sense the emotions twisting inside of her teacher - fear, anger and sadness, but also hope.  

“Thank you for asking, Gabriella.  I’m fine.”

“Okay.”  She regarded him doubtfully.  “I know I’m just a cadet and all, Commander, but if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”  Her voice was filled with compassion for the teacher she admired.

“Thank you.  I’ll let you know.”

“Well, here’s my paper.”  She handed him a PADD.  “Have a good evening, Commander.”

“You too, Gabriella.”  Chakotay continued on his way and covertly observed as the man followed him home, remaining at a safe distance.  He didn’t think that his pursuer knew he had been noticed.  Stealth was a trait that Chakotay had learned as a member of the Maquis, and he hadn’t lost his touch in the intervening years.  He hadn’t made an attempt to lose his shadow; he was curious to see how far he would be followed.

He arrived at his apartment and sat at his desk, pondering what to do.  The man had followed him all the way home, and a simple scan with a tricorder revealed that not only did he remain outside Chakotay’s apartment, but he had been joined by a second man.  Drumming his fingers on the desk, Chakotay considered his options.  He could confront the men directly, but he doubted that would yield any results.  He could report them to Starfleet, but, for all he knew, they were Starfleet officers sent to spy on him; it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility the way Nechayev and Ross had been acting recently.  He couldn’t send a communique; if he was being watched, then chances were good that his communications were being monitored as well.  

It had been six days since Kathryn’s disappearance, and his every attempt to instigate an investigation had been dismissed.  After his unsuccessful meeting with Admiral Nechayev and Ambassador V’tan, he had asked Tom Paris to appeal to his father.  Admiral Paris had been understanding but apologetic, and had contacted Chakotay personally to explain that even his hands were tied.  Starfleet had made their priorities clear, and investigating Admiral Janeway’s death wasn’t one of them.

This concerned Chakotay deeply.  In the past, Starfleet would never have let something like this go so easily.  V’tan’s explanations and evidence seemed all too convenient.  Why couldn’t anyone else see that?  Or was he so emotionally involved that he was the one who couldn’t see clearly?  He shook his head.  Tuvok had acknowledged the inconsistencies in the data, too, which meant that he wasn’t merely reacting emotionally.  As soon as he could, he planned to show Tuvok a copy of the information V’tan had presented at the meeting.

Chakotay had decided what to do; he just had to figure out how to execute his plan.  He turned on the news vids and allowed them to play in the background to mask the sound as he packed a bag with some spare clothes.  He downloaded all the information he would need from his computer terminal onto a data chip and packed it along with his tricorder.  Changing out of his uniform, he donned brown leather pants, a loose fitting maroon shirt and a matching leather jacket.  He removed his communicator and left it on the table next to his Starfleet pips, wondering if he would ever wear them again.  Once again, he was putting his career on the line to do what he believed was right.  The thought both frightened and exhilarated him.      

He programmed his spare tricorder to emit a false bio signature.  Unless his trackers entered the apartment, they wouldn’t know he was gone.  Leaving the lights on and the news vids running, Chakotay opened the bathroom window.  His apartment was one floor up, and he poked his head outside, looking around. The back garden was deserted, and he hoisted himself out of the window and jumped to the ground, landing hard at the bottom of the three meter drop.  He felt a sharp pain jab through his ankle, but he ignored it, intent on his mission.  He sneaked along the wall of the apartment building, crawling on his knees to avoid being seen by any of his neighbors.  When he cleared the building on the opposite side of his own apartment, he broke into a run.  The sooner he got out of here, the better.

Rain was not uncommon in San Francisco, but on this particular night it was falling with unusual vigor.  Seven of Nine sat back against the couch, listening to the pitter-patter on the roof of her small townhouse.  While many crew members from Voyager had taken apartments near Starfleet Headquarters, Seven had decided to try something a little more adventurous.  After her break-up with Chakotay, she had felt the need for a change in her living situation, so she had found a small, two bedroom townhouse on one of San Francisco’s many hills.  One bedroom housed her regeneration alcove; the other contained a bed for guests.  Her aunt had come to visit from Sweden a couple of times, and sometimes Naomi Wildman liked to spend the night after a tutoring session.  Naomi had assisted her in decorating the second bedroom.  

The living room decor was sparse and efficient, just the way Seven liked it.  She sat on the small sofa, and Voyager’s EMH sat across from her in one of the simple chairs near the coffee table.  He frequently came by in the evenings, and they shared many conversations.  In some ways, the Doctor understood better than anyone else what Seven had gone through on their return.  He was the only other adult crew member from Voyager who’d had no pre-established life or family in the Alpha Quadrant.  She had grown increasingly grateful for his friendship over the years, and he had been an understanding listener when she had chosen to end her relationship with Chakotay.  She enjoyed his companionship and the fact that, unlike many of the men she dated, he appreciated her for more than her physical attributes.  He was telling her about a particularly annoying nurse at Starfleet Medical when the door chimed.

“Are you expecting company?” the Doctor asked.

“No,” Seven replied, standing.  “I will see who it is.”  She walked out of the living room and down the hallway into the entryway.  She checked the monitors, and when she saw who stood outside, she opened the door immediately.  “Chakotay!” she exclaimed.  “Come in.  You are wet.”

“I guess I forgot to pack an umbrella.”  The sopping man entered the warm, dry house.  He put his bag down and placed a hand on the wall to support himself as he removed his boots.  When he put weight on his right foot, he cried out in pain.

“You are damaged,” observed Seven with concern.  “Let me assist you.  The Doctor is in the living room.”

“Good timing,” Chakotay replied wryly as he leaned on Seven and limped into her living room, dripping on the wood floor as he walked.  Adrenaline had kept him going as he ran the two miles from his apartment to her home, but now his right ankle throbbed in pain.

“Commander Chakotay,” said the Doctor with surprise.  

“He is damaged,” said Seven.  “Assist me.”  They helped Chakotay sit on the couch, and the Doctor pulled out a medical tricorder as Seven wrapped a warm blanket around Chakotay’s shoulders.  

“Seven, where’s your emergency med kit?  The commander has a sprained ankle - an injury that has been compounded by the fact that he has been running on it for a substantial distance.”  The Doctor looked at Chakotay disapprovingly.  

“Well, I couldn’t exactly walk out my front door.”

At this statement, both the Doctor’s and Seven’s eyes flew to Chakotay.  Without moving her gaze from Chakotay’s face, Seven handed the Doctor the med kit.  “Why not?”

As the Doctor treated his swollen ankle, Chakotay told them everything that had transpired since Kathryn’s supposed death, including how he had been followed home from work that day.  He showed them what Tuvok had uncovered as well as the data V’tan had presented in their meeting.  As the Doctor looked at the PADD, he shook his head.  “This can’t be right.”

“What do you mean?” asked Chakotay.

“If the admiral had been as close to the center of the explosion as the Br’nai claim, these scans would show pulmonary contusions or pulmonary barotrauma.  Anyone that close to the center of an explosion of this magnitude would have suffered from at least one of those conditions, but these scans show no sign of pulmonary trauma.”

Chakotay’s heart thudded loudly in his ears.  “What are you saying, Doctor?”

“There’s no way the admiral was as close to the center of that explosion as the Br’nai claim.”

“I should have noticed there was something off about that report.”

“It’s unlikely that you would have, Commander.  It takes a practiced physician to be able to notice these details.”

“Chakotay,” said Seven sharply, “the question isn’t why you didn’t notice it.  It’s why no one at Starfleet Command did.  Surely they had this data examined by Starfleet Medical.”

“You would think so,” Chakotay replied, “but I’m not sure anymore.  I don’t know who we can trust.  It could have been Starfleet who sent those men to watch my apartment.  Something strange is going on here, and I have to believe that at least some of the admiralty is involved.”

“Are you suggesting that Starfleet admirals are conspiring against one of their own?” the Doctor asked.

“They probably think they’re doing what’s best for everyone, but they’re so scared stiff of another Dominion War that they can’t think straight.”  His ankle healed, Chakotay stood and began to pace the room.  “We have to find out what happened to Kathryn.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Seven.

“First, we need to know if she really went to Br’nai.  Maybe Starfleet has more information about her disappearance than they’re letting on.”

“Why would Starfleet conceal information about Admiral Janeway’s death?” asked the Doctor.

“They wouldn’t,” answered Seven, “unless they had something to do with it.”

The suggestion sent a chill down Chakotay’s spine, and he stopped pacing, placing his hands low on his hips.  “I don’t want to believe that, Seven.”

“It would explain their strange behavior,” the Doctor pointed out.

“Chakotay,” Seven said, “you can’t be the one to access Starfleet records on Admiral Janeway.  If it was Starfleet that sent those men to your apartment, they’ll be watching for your login to any Starfleet database.”

“I know.  But Admiral Janeway’s aide has a high security clearance as well as access to all of her files.”  Chakotay got a glint in his eye - one that Seven knew meant he had a plot up his sleeve.  “I think we should give him a call.”

Two minutes later, the three of them stood around Seven’s comm panel, talking to Michael Ayala.  Chakotay explained the situation and Mike stroked his chin thoughtfully.  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.  “Let me get back to you.”

The comm panel went blank, and Chakotay resumed his pacing.  “Commander, you should rest that ankle,” the EMH cautioned.  Chakotay gave the Doctor a withering glance and ignored his advice.  Seven knew better than to interfere and busied herself in the kitchen.

Ayala called again about an hour later.  “I couldn’t find anything,” he said.  “I’m sorry, Commander.  All records indicate that Admiral Janeway did, in fact, go to Br’nai, and that Starfleet does believe her to be dead.”

“At least that means Starfleet’s not involved,” Chakotay said with a small sigh of relief.

“Perhaps,” countered Seven.  “Starfleet has been known to employ covert agents who operate outside the Starfleet mainstream, such as Section 31.”

“But where does that leave us?” Ayala asked.  “We still know nothing more about the admiral’s disappearance than we did an hour ago.”

Chakotay grimaced.  “Looks like we have to go to Br’nai and see for ourselves.”

“But we don’t have a ship,” the Doctor spluttered, “and Starfleet certainly isn’t going to let you take one to Br’nai if they’re refusing to even listen to your doubts about the admiral’s death.”

Seven stopped all conversation when she said quietly, “I have a ship.”  Everyone turned to look at her, stunned, and Ayala squinted at her through the screen, but she didn’t seem prepared to elaborate.  

“How will we get through the planetary sensor grid?” Chakotay asked.  Seven pursed her lips, reluctant to continue, and Chakotay put his hands on his hips, familiar with her expression.  “What ship, Seven?”

“It’s an experimental prototype shuttle.  Starfleet asked me to design a vessel that would effectively combat the Borg.”

“And you’ve done it?” asked Ayala through the monitor, the admiration obvious in his voice.

“The shuttle is not complete, and most of its systems have yet to be tested.”

“How do you know it’s safe?” asked the Doctor.

“I don’t.”

“And the planetary sensor grid?” Chakotay pressed.

“I perfected the multi-adaptive shielding which my parents invented.  When the multi-adaptive shields are engaged, they automatically compensate for any sensors in range.  They adapt on the spot to mask the shuttle from any sensors that scan the vessel.”

Ayala whistled softly under his breath while Chakotay crossed his arms over his chest.  “Does Starfleet know about these shields?” he asked.  “Because if they do, they’ve probably already adjusted the planetary sensor grid accordingly.”

Seven shook her head.  “I believe the multi-adaptive shielding would be considered an illegal cloaking device according to the Treaty of Algeron.”

“Seven!” the Doctor exclaimed, “you’re taking a terrible risk.  What will happen when Starfleet finds out you’ve violated the treaty?”

“Starfleet wanted me to design a shuttle capable of combatting the Borg.  That is what I have done.”

“But when the admiralty finds out, you could be imprisoned!  Or worse!” the EMH moaned.

Chakotay couldn’t keep a bemused grin from his lips.  “And you can get us access to this shuttle of yours?”

“Commander...” the Doctor began.

Seven cut him off.  “Yes.  But we must act quickly, before Lieutenant Barclay and Commander Harkins arrive for the day.  Accompany me.”

“Let me get this straight,” the EMH said.  “We’re going to steal a highly experimental prototype shuttle that has never been tested.  We’re going to activate an illegal cloaking device and then we’re going to countermand Starfleet’s orders and risk inciting an intergalactic incident by provoking the Br’nai.”

“You got it, Doc,” Ayala said from the screen.

“Are you coming, Doctor?” Chakotay asked.  “No one will blame you if you choose to remain here.”

The EMH looked at Chakotay, and then at Seven.  He emitted a dramatic sigh.  “I’ll come with you.  If I don’t, you’ll probably manage to get yourselves killed.  But don’t blame me if we all end up in prison over this.”

Less than an hour later, the Doctor, Chakotay and Ayala were following Seven into the depths of the Pathfinder lab.  She used her access codes to get them past the main rooms and into her private research area.  They followed her to a hidden underground launch pad and found themselves face to face with a class of ship they had never seen before.  It was sleeker than the Flyer, designed with aerodynamics in mind.  The vessel had a triangular shape and its silver panels took on a greenish hue.  Seven lowered a ramp at the back of the shuttle, and Chakotay, the Doctor, and Ayala hurried aboard.     

Seven took the pilot’s seat and Chakotay sat in the co-pilot’s chair.  The controls were completely unfamiliar to him, and the ship’s interior looked more like a Borg vessel than a Starfleet ship.  “Initiating launch sequence,” Seven said.  “Engaging multi-adaptive shielding.”  The ship began to rise, and the ceiling of the launch pad opened to reveal the sky above them.

“Here goes nothing,” Ayala quipped.

Hang on, Kathryn, Chakotay thought.  If you’re still alive, hang on.

Chapter Text

9

Better Than One

“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.  For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.”
    -Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

“You told me that your people would keep this situation under control!” raged the man in the black cloak, his silver eyes flashing with displeasure.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know what happened.”  Admiral Ross shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wilting under the other man’s penetrating gaze.

“I do.  Your men are utterly incompetent.”

“They’re not incompetent,” Ross protested.  “We’re dealing with an extremely dangerous and unpredictable criminal here.”

The other man snorted and rolled his eyes.  “My people would have no difficulty taking care of this problem.  With your people in charge, he slipped right out from under your nose.”

Ross attempted to placate his guest.  “We’re trying to find him now.”

The man in black stormed out of the room, black cap swirling behind him.  “Don’t bother.  I should have known I’d have to do everything myself.”

Admiral Ross frowned as he watched the other man exit his office and felt a strange emptiness come over him at the lack of his companion’s presence.  He paused for a moment, wondering why he felt so lonely.  Then the feeling passed and he looked at the stack of PADDs on his desk.  He had a lot of work to do, and his workload had just been compounded by Commander Chakotay’s disappearance.

Alynna Nechayev was fuming.  She had read Commander Harkins the riot act that morning; how could the security at Pathfinder be so lax that one person with security codes was able to steal Starfleet’s top-secret prototype shuttle?  Seven, the prime suspect, had headed up the team that had designed the craft, and she had also designed most of the security systems to protect it.  Starfleet Security was trying to determine whether she had acted alone or been coerced by a hostile force.  Nechayev wondered if Starfleet’s trust in the former Borg had been misplaced all along.

“Toddman to Nechayev.”

She tapped her comm badge.  “Nechayev here.  What have you found, Admiral?”

“Security teams discovered that Commander Chakotay and Janeway’s aide, Lieutenant Michael Ayala, are both missing.  Voyager’s former EMH also hasn’t reported for his duty shift at Starfleet Medical.  He could be deactivated, but I think it’s likely that he is also gone.”

“Thank you, Admiral.  You can report back to Headquarters.  Nechayev out.”  Alynna sat back in her chair and sighed.  Chakotay, Ayala, Seven of Nine and the Doctor must have worked together to steal the prototype.  She thought back to her meeting with Commander Chakotay only a few days before, and realized that those who had disappeared were Kathryn Janeway’s closest friends and personal aide.  There was only one explanation for this outrageous behavior.  She pulled up her visual comm link and placed a subspace transmission.  

A moment later, a familiar face appeared on the screen in front of her.  “Admiral Nechayev,” Captain Will Riker greeted her.  “What can I do for you?”

“Captain, are you alone?”  Riker nodded.  “I need you to keep this classified for now.  Limit knowledge of your mission to essential personnel only.”

“Understood.”  

“Last night, Commander Chakotay and a group of his former colleagues from Voyager stole a prototype shuttle from Starfleet.  The group includes Seven of Nine, who has been working on developing some highly experimental technology for the Pathfinder Project.  I have reason to believe that they are headed to Br’nai with the intention of investigating Admiral Janeway’s death.  Your orders are to intercept them and stop them from causing a major diplomatic incident.  I’ll transfer all of the relevant data to you.”

“Aye, Admiral.”  Will paused.  “Why not send the Enterprise?  I thought they were at Br’nai.”

Nechayev shook her head.  “The Enterprise left Br’nai almost two weeks ago.  They’re only a few days away from Earth and are bringing technology vital to the safety of the Federation.  Your current location puts you well within range of Br’nai, and the Titan is the fastest ship in the fleet.  The prototype is equipped with a highly experimental transwarp drive, based on Borg technology.  If Seven has managed to perfect the drive, they could reach Br’nai within a day or two.  You have the best chance of catching them.  We must avoid a confrontation with the Br’nai if at all possible.  The last thing we need is another war.”

“Aye, Admiral,” replied Riker.  “We’ll get underway immediately.  Riker out.”

Nechayev watched the Starfleet emblem return to the center of her screen.  Somehow, she was going to have explain this blunder to the Federation Council, and that was a task she was not looking forward to.

Lethargically, Kathryn’s mind struggled to penetrate the fog of sedation.  She gradually coaxed herself back to consciousness, opening and closing her eyes and attempting to clear her blurry vision.  It had been at least two days since her encounter with Dr. M’hel.  She had not seen him since, but she was still seething at the idea of being used as one of his lab rats.  She’d already had that experience with the Srivani, and once was enough.  She wondered if M’hel had been telling the truth when he said that Starfleet believed her dead.  How had the Br’nai managed to offer conclusive evidence of her death?  Was it a lie intended to demoralize her?  Had the doctor somehow manufactured convincing evidence?  From the little she had seen of Dr. M’hel, she wouldn’t put anything past him.  One thing was certain; when she got out of this prison, she was going to make sure that everyone in the Federation knew the true nature of the Br’nai.

If she got out of this cell.  She had no way of keeping track of the time when she was sedated, but she guessed she had been held for at least a week.  She had tried again to speak with the diminutive Br’nai girl who brought her meals, but the girl refused to look her in the eye, let alone talk to her.  With each day that passed, Kathryn felt despair beginning to overtake her.  She could take the pain, withstand the torture, and face any challenge, but what she couldn’t stand was helplessness.  There were moments when she felt resigned to the lack of control, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that this was not a good sign.  

If Chakotay were with her, this would be about the time that he’d be telling her to snap out of it.  Sometimes, she played imaginary conversations with him in her head.  She told herself that it would help her problem solve if only she could imagine his calm voice and his sage advice.  But a part of her feared that the situation was hopeless.  If everyone in the Federation really did believe she was dead, there was no chance of a rescue.  If Chakotay really did believe she was dead...

A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, stopping her thought.  It took her breath away, and she curled into a ball, clutching her stomach with one hand and gripping the edge of the cot with the other.  She willed herself to take slow, deep breaths, and the pain gradually subsided.  She thought that maybe if she stood, she would feel better.  Sometimes moving around loosened her muscles and helped ease the soreness she experienced when she awoke.  Very slowly, testing her mobility, she sat up on the cot.  Her head spun for a moment, but then cleared, and she lowered her feet to the cold, metal floor.  Using her hands for support, she shifted her weight to her feet and pushed herself up.  For a moment, she felt better, but then the pain lanced through her midsection again, and she collapsed to her knees, gasping for air.  The throbbing did not subside, but increased, and she saw black spots at the edge of her vision.  Chakotay, she cried silently as the cell darkened.  Chakotay...

Chakotay jolted awake.  He thought he’d heard Kathryn calling him, but...  No, he told himself.  I was just dreaming.  Seven’s prototype, which she had named the Hugh, had a small cabin behind the bridge, and he knew it was wise to catch a few hours of sleep before they arrived at Br’nai.  He had his hand on his communicator when he heard, “Seven of Nine to Chakotay.”

“Chakotay here.”

“We’re approaching Br’nai.”

“I’m on my way,” he said, already out of bed and heading towards the bridge.  As he took the seat next to Seven, he said, “Report.”

“The transwarp drive is functioning within established parameters,” Seven said, sounding a little smug.  

Despite his concerns about their mission, Chakotay had to smile.  “Your shuttle is getting quite a test run.”

Seven raised an eyebrow.  “Indeed.”

“When we arrive, Seven, you’ll accompany me to the surface.  Doc, Ayala, you’ll stay on the shuttle in orbit.  Our first priority is to locate Kathryn, alive or... or not.”  He paused.  “What do we know about the Br’nai defenses?”

“Very little,” Seven replied.  “Sensor records from the Enterprise indicate they have some sort of planetary sensor net and a small fleet of ships, but Captain Picard’s report notes that their technology is extremely advanced.  We should be prepared for anything.”

“Commander, it’s likely that Starfleet will send a ship after us,” put in the Doctor.  “They would hardly let a prototype like this go without a fight.”

“Agreed.  What ships are in range?”

Ayala turned to his console and checked the sensors.  “The science vessel Cochrane is the closest to our position.  The Titan is the only other ship in range.”

“Hm,” Chakotay pondered.  “They’ll send the Titan.  It’s the fastest ship in the fleet with the best chance of catching us.  How long will it take them to reach us?”

“At warp nine point nine, it will take them approximately twenty-five hours and forty minutes,” the Doctor replied.

“I hope that by then, we’ll have Kathryn back.”

“I hope that your optimism is warranted, Chakotay,” Seven said softly, leaning over the console to speak privately with him.  His eyes met hers, and he saw genuine care and concern there.  There would have been a time that he would have felt incredibly awkward being in this situation with her, but now, he was glad she was here.

“What made you choose the name Hugh?” he asked quietly after a moment of silence.

“Hugh was the name of a Borg drone who was liberated from the Collective by the crew of the Enterprise in 2368,” Seven replied.  “I thought it was fitting.”

“Very fitting.”  Chakotay paused, looking down at his control panel.  “Thank you for doing this, Seven.”

“You are welcome, Chakotay, but I am not doing it for you.  I am doing it for Admiral Janeway.”

“Of course.  So am I.”  He said it almost too softly, but Seven heard it.

She reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder.  Chakotay jolted; it was the first time she had initiated physical contact with him since their break-up over a year before.  “You care for her a great deal, don’t you?” Seven asked.

“Yes.”

She nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze.  “We will find her, Chakotay.”  He placed his hand over hers, grateful for her support.

Less than an hour later, the shuttle arrived at Br’nai and dropped into orbit.  “Multi-adaptive shields are functioning,” Seven reported.  “We are invisible to the Br’nai sensors.”

“Scan for human life signs,” ordered Chakotay.

“I am not detecting any human life signs,” Seven said, “but there is a heavy dampening field around the research facility that is interfering with our sensors.”

“Can we beam down?”

“The shield grid weakens in a few places.  It should be enough to allow a transporter beam through.”

“Good.  Let’s go.”  Chakotay gestured to Seven to follow him, and they stepped onto the shuttle’s transporter pad.  “If we don’t signal for a beam out in twenty-four hours, your orders are to turn yourselves in when the Titan arrives,” said Chakotay.  From the moment they had stolen the Hugh, they had become outlaws, and he had no more right than anyone else to give orders, but he trusted the Doc and Mike to do as he asked.  “Don’t beam down to the planet or come looking for us.”

“Understood,” replied the EMH.

“Energize.”

When he and Seven rematerialized, Chakotay found himself in a darkened research lab.  The room was not large, maybe six meters by eight, and two long tables ran down the center of it.  The tables housed several computer monitors, some of which remained active while others had been turned off for the night.  Chakotay and Seven pulled out their tricorders and began to scan.  “Chakotay,” Seven whispered, “I am detecting one human life sign somewhere below this room.  It’s very faint.”

Chakotay’s heart began to pound.  Kathryn.  She was alive, just barely.  He scanned the area around them, trying to find an entrance to the chamber below.  “This way,” he said, motioning to Seven with his hand.  In one corner of the room, there was a strong dampening field, and he guessed that it masked an entrance to the underground chamber.  Seven had caught on to Chakotay’s thinking and was already trying to deactivate the dampening field.

“This area of the chamber is equipped with a cloaking device,” she said.  “I am attempting to deactivate it.”  Seven worked at the controls while Chakotay kept an eye on his tricorder, watching for approaching life signs.  After a moment, the ‘wall’ in front of them shimmered and then ceased to exist, revealing a lift of some kind.  The lift door slid open, and Chakotay and Seven stepped inside.  For several seconds, they plummeted downward with no idea of where they were headed.  

When the lift stopped and the doors opened, they could hear voices.  They flattened their bodies back against the walls of the lift, waiting for the voices to pass.  When the voices fell silent, they stepped out, phasers in hand, into a long, bright corridor.  They crept down the hallway, and Seven glanced at her tricorder.  “The shielding around this chamber is limiting the range of our tricorders.”  

“We’ll split up at the end of the corridor,” Chakotay whispered.  “You go left, I’ll go right.”

“I believe we should remain together.”

“No.  We have a better chance of finding Kathryn if we separate.”

“The interference from the shield grid will also inhibit the use of our communicators,” Seven warned.

“We don’t have much time,” Chakotay hissed.  “If we’re discovered, the whole mission is lost.  We’ll be more efficient if we split up.”  They had reached the end of the corridor and now stood at the junction.  They could hear voices in the distance and ducked back into the hallway, but the voices did not approach.

“All right,” Seven acquiesced.  “We will meet back at the lift in thirty minutes.  If neither of us has found Admiral Janeway by then, we will reassess our plan.”

Chakotay nodded, and they parted ways.  He slinked along the corridor, body pressed against the wall, barely breathing.  He froze each time he heard footsteps, willing them to walk in another direction.  He approached a doorway and peered into the room through a small window in the metal door.  

Five Br’nai males, all dressed in white tunics and wearing surgical masks, leaned over a long table.  The men used instruments to poke and prod their subject, and when one of them raised a sharp metal object into the air, Chakotay could see that it sparkled with deep red blood.  Human blood.  Chakotay’s heart pounded as he stood on his toes, trying to get a better view into the room, his attempts to remain inconspicuous forgotten.  One of the men handed another a small dish, and the second man placed something into it.  A third man held a tool that looked like a hypospray and filled it with green liquid from a nearby machine.  Their movements contained none of the urgency of doctors trying to save a patient’s life.  He strained to get a better look at the subject on the table, and a glimpse of auburn hair was all he needed to confirm his fears.  Caution abandoned, Chakotay’s hand found his phaser as he burst through the doors.  “Step away from her.”

The Br’nai looked up in surprise.  “Who are you?” one of them sputtered.  “Who let you in here?”

Chakotay pointed his phaser at the man and stunned him.  One of the other doctors moved towards a console in the corner, and Chakotay shot him, but not before he had activated a security alarm.  Sirens blared through the research facility.  As Chakotay felled another of the Br’nai, the remaining scientists scurried away.  He moved quickly towards Kathryn’s body, feeling his heart stop at the sight of her pale face and the blood seeping out of an incision in her abdomen.  He leaned down to pick up her unconscious form.  Her skin was cold and clammy, and he knew he had to get her to the Doctor fast.  

The door to the research lab burst open and several Br’nai in black uniforms entered, swinging their rifles.  “There’s the intruder!” one of them shouted.  

Chakotay had run out of time.  He looked down at Kathryn’s pallid face.  I’m sorry, he thought, right before the pain of a disruptor beam lanced through his body and the world around him went black.

Seven had been creeping from corridor to corridor, searching for some sign of the admiral, but so far, she had only found a collection of offices and cubicles.  A nameplate was mounted on every door, and each room contained a computer terminal and a small research area.  This area of the facility seemed to be deserted at this time of night, and Seven had just begun to head back in the direction of the lift when she heard the alarm blare.  Hearing footsteps behind her, she ducked into a darkened office and waited until they passed.  She heard yelling and the hurried footfalls of people running.  Chakotay, she thought.  I should never have allowed him to go alone.   

Seven weighed her options.  She could follow the commotion and attempt to locate Chakotay, but it seemed highly unlikely that the two of them would be able to overwhelm an entire compound of Br’nai, even if they were scientists and not trained soldiers.  So, careful to avoid detection, she made her way back to the lift.  She had to get back to the surface where she could hail the Hugh.  If there was one thing of which Seven of Nine was certain, it was that the collective was stronger and more resourceful than the individual.  She had to find help.

The Doctor checked the sensors for the twelfth time in ten minutes.  Chakotay and Seven had been gone for over an hour, and he had expected an update from them by now.  He hoped that the multi-adaptive shielding would hide the Hugh from the Br’nai’s sensors as well as Seven expected.  He was having serious doubts about whether he should have agreed to go on this mission.  Organic beings could be so reckless sometimes.  He understood the commander’s desire to figure out the truth about what had happened to Admiral Janeway, but wondered why he couldn’t have found a way that was a little less risky.

“Relax, Doc, I’m sure they’re fine,” Ayala assured him, although his expression belied his own concerns.

The comm panel beeped, and they heard, “Seven of Nine to the Hugh.  One to beam up.”  She was whispering, and it sounded like there was noise in the background.

“One?” the EMH asked.

“No time to explain.  Beam me up!”

Ayala activated the transporter and a moment later, Seven reappeared behind him.  “Seven, are you all right?” he asked.  “Where’s Chakotay?”

“I am undamaged,” Seven said, moving swiftly to the pilot’s seat.  “But Chakotay has been captured.”

“Captured?” the Doctor moaned.

“We require assistance.”  Seven’s mind was racing.  The Titan was on its way to intercept them, but she did not know anyone aboard.  She could not guarantee that they would be sympathetic to her predicament.  Then she had a flash of insight, and she whirled to look at the Doctor.  “Is Voyager still on her test run?”

Tuvok sat back in his chair, surveying the bridge.  They had completed testing of Voyager’s new warp drive as well as several of its non-essential systems, but the major test - that of the quantum slipstream drive - still remained.

“We’re receiving a subspace transmission, sir,” reported Lieutenant Andrews from the ops station.  “It’s on an encrypted channel.”

“Reroute the transmission to the ready room,” Tuvok ordered.  “I’ll take it in there.  Mr. Paris, you have the bridge.”  Tom took the command chair and Ensign Baytart moved to the conn while Tuvok hurried into the ready room.  He activated the computer terminal and accessed the transmission.  Seven of Nine, the EMH, and Lieutenant Ayala appeared in a shuttle whose configuration he did not recognize.  

“Commander Tuvok,” Seven greeted him.  “We require your assistance.”

Tuvok raised on eyebrow.  “How so?”

Seven proceeded to explain the events that had occurred over the past few days: how Chakotay had been followed to his apartment, how they had stolen the Hugh to investigate Admiral Janeway’s disappearance at Br’nai, and, finally, how Chakotay had been captured while searching for the admiral in the underground laboratory.  “With Voyager’s quantum slipstream drive, you could arrive here within a matter of hours, before the Titan is able to intercept us.”

“And if we do, what course of action do you propose?” Tuvok asked.

“A rescue operation,” Seven replied.

Tuvok considered this for a moment, evaluating the logical course of action.  “On a test run, the captain has discretion over the vessel’s mission.  We will assist you.”

A slight smile crossed Seven’s features.  “Thank you, Commander.  The Doctor is transmitting our coordinates to you now.”

“We will rendezvous with you in a few hours.  Voyager out.”  Tuvok hurried back to the bridge.  “Mr. Paris, take the conn,” he ordered.  “We are going to test the slipstream drive.”

After a successful quantum slipstream flight, Voyager arrived at Br’nai and concealed itself in a nearby nebula.  Tuvok contacted Seven, and she docked the Hugh in the shuttle bay.  Moments later, the senior staff, along with Seven, Ayala and the Doctor, assembled in the briefing room to discuss their plan of action.  Seven explained the events that had led to Chakotay’s capture in the underground compound.

By the time Seven was finished speaking, B’Elanna Torres was fuming. “You didn’t even try to help him?”

“I followed what I believed to be a prudent course of action,” Seven replied calmly.  “I do not believe that I would have been successful extricating Chakotay from the Br’nai alone.”

“You abandoned him to those petaQs!” B’Elanna exploded, slamming her hand down on the table.      

“Debating Seven’s past actions will not help us to find the commander, or the admiral, if she is, indeed, alive,” said Tuvok calmly.  “We must decide how to proceed.”

“We could take a bigger team to Br’nai,” suggested Ayala.  “Now that Seven has seen the inside of the facility where Chakotay is being held, we could be more effective.”

“Seven only saw a portion of the facility,” Tuvok countered.  “We cannot assume that she will have all the information we need.”

All eyes turned to the former drone, and she agreed with Tuvok.  “I saw only a small part of the compound.  I know the general area where Chakotay was apprehended, but I have no idea where the Br’nai would hold him if they chose to do so.”

“It is also possible that the commander was killed,” said Tuvok.  “We have no guarantee he is still alive.”

“But Seven did detect one human life sign,” said the Doctor, “which means that as of a few hours ago, Admiral Janeway was most likely still alive.  If there is even the slightest possibility that either of them is alive, we have to do whatever we can to save them.”

“What do you propose, Doctor?” Tuvok asked.

“I’m a doctor, not a tactician.”

“Why don’t we hail the Br’nai and demand that they release our people. Call their bluff,” suggested Tom.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow.  “And risk a war or a major diplomatic incident?  That would be highly illogical.”

Tom sat back against his chair, folding his arms over his chest.  “All right, Tuvok.  What do you suggest?”

“We wait.”

“Are you crazy?” asked B’Elanna.  “Wait for what?  Chakotay’s not going to be able to get out of there on his own.”

“I am not suggesting that we wait for the commander to emerge on his own.  I am suggesting that we wait for reinforcements.”

“Wait a minute,” said Ayala, placing his hand outward to stop his Vulcan colleague.  “You’re not going to tell Starfleet about this.”

“On the contrary,” said Tuvok.  “I have no intention of contacting Starfleet Command.  However, long range sensors have detected the Titan.  It should arrive within less than twenty-four hours.”

“And what makes you think they’re going to help us?” asked Tom.  “Surely their orders are to apprehend the Hugh and escort it right back to San Francisco.”

“I know Captain Riker, and he has known Admiral Janeway for many years.  I believe that once he realizes the gravity of the situation, he and his crew will assist us.”

“And if they don’t?” asked B’Elanna.

“If they don’t...”  Tuvok paused.  “I believe the human expression is that we will cross that bridge if and when we arrive at it.”

The briefing room filled with laughter, a much needed release amidst the seriousness of the situation, as Tom corrected the Vulcan, “Come to it, Tuvok.  We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Kathryn had decided that if she ever escaped from this cell, she was never going to lie on her back looking at the ceiling again.  It was the only comfortable position she could find on the cot, and her body was too exhausted to do much more.  The pain she experienced during waking hours had only increased.  When she was conscious, she practiced Vulcan meditation techniques, solved quadratic equations in her head, translated phrases into every language she knew - anything to distract herself from her own fears.  She kept going over her visit to Br’nai in her mind.  Was there a clue she’d missed?  Should she have paid more attention to her intuition?  Could she have averted this disaster?  Kathryn was a fighter by nature, but there was nothing here to fight, only a bleak unknown, a faceless enemy, a threat that couldn’t be quantified.  There was only her guilt and uncertainty which gnawed more deeply at her with each passing day.

She jolted as she heard a commotion outside her cell.  Ignoring the pain that permeated her body, Kathryn jumped off the cot and pressed her ear to the wall.  Hearing through the metal was difficult, and she could only make out a few words.  An unfamiliar voice shouted, “Quiet!”

When Kathryn heard the second voice, she gasped aloud.  “Where ... taken her?” she made out.  But it was not the words that made her gasp, it was the voice, the very familiar voice of her former first officer.

“Chakotay!” she shouted, banging her fists against the wall.  “Chakotay!  I’m here!”  But either he could not hear her or could not respond.  She heard a series of thumps and then silence, followed by the barely audible approaching of footsteps.  A moment later, the door to her cell opened and two of the hefty Br’nai guards appeared, Chakotay’s limp body between them.  “What have you done to him?” she snarled.

The guards made no reply - they never did - as they unceremoniously dumped Chakotay’s body on the floor and retreated, the cell door closing behind them.  Her pain, her guilt, and her fear forgotten, Kathryn knelt at Chakotay’s side.  The guards had left him face down, and she grabbed his shoulder and turned him over.  She gasped when she saw his bloodied face and torn clothes.  Briefly, she wondered why he was out of uniform, but she didn’t have time to think about that now.  She ran her hands over his body, trying to assess his injuries.  He had obviously been severely beaten.  My fault, she thought.  This is all my fault.

She tore a strip of fabric from her now well-worn Starfleet jacket and ducked into the small bathroom to wet it.  She knelt beside Chakotay’s still form and gently applied the wet cloth to the wounds on his face.  As she did so, he began to stir.  “Chakotay?” she prodded.  “Chakotay?”  She cupped his cheek in her empty hand and moved her thumb back and forth across an undamaged patch of skin.  “Chakotay, can you hear me?”

Chakotay’s eyes opened, then widened.  He must be hallucinating, he thought.  Or maybe he was dreaming.  Wasn’t Kathryn dead?  Hadn’t he seen her lifeless form on a Br’nai operating table?  Perhaps he was the one who was dead.  Perhaps he was in the spirit world, because he thought he saw Kathryn’s concerned face leaning over him, thought he heard her voice speaking his name.  He felt the touch of her fingers on his cheek and the cold cloth against his wounds and realized that this was not a dream.  Spirits, she was really here.  In one swift motion, Chakotay pushed himself up into a sitting position and pulled her hard against him.  “Kathryn.  Oh my god, Kathryn.  It’s really you.  You’re alive.”

Overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions, Janeway returned the embrace and stroked Chakotay’s hair as he buried his face in her shoulder.  They remained there for several moments, holding each other tightly.  When she finally felt Chakotay’s grip release, Kathryn pulled away.  They locked eyes and she reached out to brush the tears from his cheeks.  He grabbed her hand in his and pressed his mouth to her palm in a reverent and passionate kiss.  “You’re alive,” he whispered again.

“M’hel was telling the truth.  Everyone really does believe I’m dead.”

“They won’t for long,” Chakotay replied as she helped him stand and maneuver over to the cot.  He sat down carefully, and she sat next to him, one leg folded up underneath herself.  He had not let go of her hand.  “Kathryn, I...”  But he stopped, unsure where to begin.  There was so much he wanted to tell her and so much he wanted to know.  Finally, he asked, “Are you all right?”

The conflicting emotions that swirled in her were too complicated to explain, so she said, “I’m fine.  Tell me what happened.”

Chakotay began with all that had transpired at Starfleet since her alleged death: the Enterprise’s swift recall to Earth, his and Tuvok’s attempts to provoke a further investigation, the men watching his apartment.  When he told her how Mike, Seven, and the Doctor had immediately jumped on board to help him find her, he saw tears in her eyes.  When he recounted their break-in at Pathfinder and their theft of the Hugh, Janeway’s eyes widened.

“You stole an experimental shuttle from Starfleet?  Chakotay, you could all be court martialed for this.”

“And if we hadn’t, you would likely have died alone in this cell.”

“But surely there was another way...”

He cut her off.  “Ambassador V’tan manufactured evidence, Kathryn, and Starfleet bought it.  Someone there has to be in on it.  There wasn’t anyone I could trust.  I did my best to go through official channels, but sometimes, the Maquis way is the best way.”  He gave her a wry grin.

She halfheartedly returned the smile and then grew somber, digesting his words.  “Thank you for coming after me.”

Chakotay drew her hand to his lips and kissed it.  “I always will.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you landed in my cell,” she pointed out, and he proceeded to finish the story.  He glossed over what he had seen in the laboratory, but Janeway noticed the omission and asked for more detail.

Chakotay told her everything he could remember about the men, the equipment, and the procedures he had seen in the lab.  When he finished, she was silent for a long time, putting the pieces together in her mind.  “Kathryn?” he prodded gently, squeezing her hand.

She pulled her hand from his and started to pace back and forth across the cell.  “They’ve been using me as a lab rat.  M’hel told me as much.  When I was here with the team from the Enterprise, I saw his lab.  He was performing experiments on other beings - ‘inferior creatures’ he calls them.  And I’d bet they’ve done the same to you, or they will if they haven’t started already.  We have to stop them, Chakotay.  We have to...”  A sharp pain in her abdomen cut her off and she doubled over, crying out.

Chakotay was at her side in an instant.  “Kathryn!”  She fell to her knees, gasping for breath and clutching her stomach.

“Okay,” she managed.  “I’m okay.”  The throbbing subsided and her ability to breathe normally returned.  She felt Chakotay’s hand on her back, supporting her.  Gingerly, she straightened, putting her hand in his and allowing him to help her back to the cot.  She gripped his hand as another wave of pain washed over her, and he helped her lay back on the bed.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked, kneeling beside her.  She placed her hand over the area where the pain seemed to center, in her lower abdomen above her left hip bone.  “Can I take a look?” he asked gently.

Biting her lip as she looked down at him, Kathryn nodded.  “The pain hasn’t been this bad before.”

Gently, Chakotay untucked her grey tank and pulled it up to her rib cage, exposing the soft white skin of her stomach.  He noted some discoloration on the left side of her stomach, but he still couldn’t see the area she had indicated.  Carefully, he unclasped her trousers and opened them slightly.  His touch held no hint of sexuality, and his mind didn’t even register her black panties.  Instead, he was looking at the skin above her left hip bone which was a deep shade of purple.  He touched it and pressed down gently.  “Does this hurt?”

“Ah!” Kathryn cried out, and Chakotay scooted quickly to the head of the bed, seizing one of her hands and running his other hand through her hair.  

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She shook her head, biting back the pain.  “Is it bad?”

“I think you’re bleeding internally.”

“Okay,” she said, removing her hand from his and reaching down to re-button her trousers.  She turned her head to look at him, finding the best captain’s voice she could muster.  “We’ll get out of here, Chakotay.  I don’t know how, but we will.”

Wordlessly, he smiled at her bravery and kissed her cheek.  Then he climbed up on the cot beside her, spooning her against him, feeling the warmth of her body next to his, wrapping an arm firmly around her and pulling her close.  Kathryn allowed herself to relax against him, to find comfort in the strength of his embrace and the constancy of his warm breath on her neck.  Both exhausted, they fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Ril stumbled as he crashed through the doorway to V’tan’s living room, nearly knocking over an antique sculpture that the ambassador kept on the coffee table.  “Master V’tan, there’s an incoming transmission for you from Br’nai.”

V’tan looked up at his bumbling assistant, barely moving his head.  “Ril, must you come crashing in here like an elgibury?  I’m sure the transmission could have waited long enough for you to walk through the door properly.”  V’tan sat in a large, leather armchair in the living room of his apartment, reading an old book and sipping his tirin.

“Apologies, Master V’tan,” Ril said with a bow, composing himself.  “The transmission awaits you in your office.”

V’tan stood, leaving his glass and his book on the small table beside his armchair.  “Thank you, Ril.”  He glanced at the chronometer.  “It’s late, Ril.  Why don’t you go home for the night?”

Ril bowed again.  “Thank you, Master V’tan.  Have a pleasant evening.”

“Don’t break anything on your way out, Ril.”  V’tan allowed himself a small snort of amusement.  Ril was loyal, and just stupid enough to do whatever he was asked without thinking about it too much.  Somehow, he even managed to complete his tasks most of the time, although often not without some sort of blunder.  It was endearing, in a way, V’tan supposed as he walked into his private office and sat down at his desk.  He accessed the incoming transmission, noting that it was not from Ch’a’fen.  Instead, M’hel’s face appeared on the screen.  “Hello, Doctor.”

M’hel smiled an ugly, toothy smile.  “Good evening, Ambassador.”  

V’tan’s eyes narrowed.  The doctor seemed unusually pleased with himself, the way he used to act when they were children and he had captured an unusual, new creature to torture.  “What happened, M’hel?”

“Someone showed up here today, looking for Janeway.”

V’tan sat straight up in his chair.  “What!?”

“Relax, Tan.  I have the situation under control.  Now I have two test subjects instead of one - an unexpected bonus.  Not only do I have an unprecedented opportunity to study human genetics, I can study their behavior as well.  What will they do when confined to one small room together, male and female?”  M’hel’s ugly smile became a sneer.  “It will be so interesting to find out.”

V’tan had heard through his sources of the disappearance of four of Voyager’s former crew, along with their theft of some sort of experimental shuttle.  Starfleet was trying to keep it quiet, but he had friends in very high places.  “Are you sure there was only one rescuer?”

“Yes.”  The doctor hesitated.  “As far as I know.”

“Damn it, M’hel!” V’tan exclaimed.  “Did you ever stop to think that this new lab rat of yours didn’t come alone?  There are four missing crewmen from Janeway’s former ship.  Four!  Which means that there are three people who have escaped your clutches and now know of our facility.  Even if they haven’t put all the pieces together, they at least know that one of their group is being held on Br’nai.  Did you take your mind off of your precious experiments for long enough to think of that?”

As V’tan spoke, M’hel seemed to shrink back into his chair.  In truth, he hadn’t thought of that, and V’tan’s harsh words made him realize how shortsighted he had been.  “No one is ever going to find them.  The compound is hidden and the cloaking shield is fully operational.”

“But someone did get through.”

M’hel pressed his fingers together just under his chin.  “He got in, but he didn’t get out.  His friends may have gotten away, but if what you say is true, they’re already criminals.  Surely, you can work that situation to our advantage.”

V’tan sighed.  “We can’t afford to have the Federation suspect anything.  Everything we’ve worked for could be ruined.”

“I will not lose this opportunity for study,” M’hel retorted, bristling.  “You’ve always been the political expert.  I’m sure you won’t have any trouble diverting everyone’s attention away from this little incident.  And in the meantime, I’ll be using my research to perfect our little project.  Some human DNA could be very useful in our endeavors.”

“All right.  I’ll take care of things on this end.  But M’hel, no more prisoners.  No other experiments.  Your work is invaluable to me, but it will do me no good if we’re discovered, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure that does not happen.  Understood?”

The doctor’s shoulders hunched as he cowered away from the view screen.  “Yes, V’tan.”

“Good.”  V’tan smiled gently, to show M’hel he wasn’t that angry.  Even as a child, M’hel had been desperate to please him - no one else, not his parents or his teachers, just V’tan.  Even then, he had known that V’tan would someday have the power to make him into a great man.  “Go back to your little experiments, M’hel.  I’ll speak with you later.”  

“Yes, V’tan.  Thank you.”

The screen went black and V’tan allowed himself a moment to scowl.  M’hel was an incredible scientist but he knew nothing of people or politics.  He became so lost in his world of experiments and torture that he quickly forgot all other considerations, and that was dangerous.  Because of the doctor’s work, V’tan had had to reveal to him a great many details about the true nature of his plan.  He had no worry that M’hel would intentionally sabotage him or reveal his secrets; in that sense, trusting M’hel was much safer than confiding in Ch’a’fen.  However, M’hel might unintentionally cause great harm to the project, if only because he had no broader perspective.  He would have to be watched very carefully.

The ambassador activated his computer terminal, calling up information on Voyager’s other missing crew members.  When he noted their identities, his face lit up in a cunning smile and he felt his tension begin to melt away.  A Maquis, a Borg and a hologram.  His Federation colleagues already harbored suspicions against all three of those groups; it would not be hard to manipulate their misgivings to serve his own ends.

Chapter Text

10

Deceptions

“Podràn cortar todas las flores, pero no podràn detener la primavera.”
    -Pablo Neruda

Lieutenant Reginald Barclay looked around anxiously.  He had no particular reason to be worried, but he’d been on edge ever since the Pathfinder break-in and Seven’s disappearance.  Starfleet was furious at Seven and some had accused her of being in league with the Borg, but Reg knew better.  He’d worked side by side with the beautiful ex-drone for almost two years, and no one had worked harder at finding ways to stop the Borg than she had.  As Reg stood in Pathfinder’s astrometrics lab, he shook his head ruefully.  If it weren’t for Seven, they wouldn’t have any of this technology.  If she were truly in league with the Borg, wouldn’t she have destroyed it before she disappeared?  Reg feared what would happen once she and the other former members of Voyager’s crew were captured.  They could have their ranks stripped, be dishonorably discharged from Starfleet, or even face imprisonment.  Just thinking about it made Barclay more nervous.  If the admiralty had only been willing to investigate Admiral Janeway’s death, none of this would have happened.

Reg had become close with many of the Voyager crew since their return to the Alpha Quadrant.  He felt a special affinity for them, and they had accepted him as one of their own more readily than anyone else ever had.  He glanced at the chronometer - only a few more seconds before the Midas Array was in place.

When Neelix’s face appeared on the screen a few moments later, he looked worried.  “N... N... Neelix,” Reg stammered, feeling his anxiety increase even further.  “Is something the m... matter?”

“Yes,” the Talaxian said gravely.  “We have a problem, Reg.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve heard some disturbing rumors in the past few days.”

“What kinds of rumors?”

Neelix looked around and lowered his voice, probably to make sure that Brax didn’t overhear him.  “I don’t have any solid evidence of this, mind you, but the rumors come through credible sources.  It seems that the Borg are on the move.”

Barclay gulped.  “The B...B... Borg?”

Neelix nodded.  “I don’t know what it means yet.  We’ve got our sensor array working overtime, trying to pick up anything that might give us an indication of where they’re headed, but Earth has always been one of their prime targets.  I think it’s safe to say that you should go to red alert.”

Janeway and Chakotay had only slept for a few hours when the guards came and took Chakotay away.  Janeway protested, insisting that he didn’t know anything of value to them, demanding that they take her instead, but, as usual, the guards gave her no acknowledgement.  She wanted nothing more than to lunge at them, raking her nails through their beady eyes, but she knew that such a gesture would only endanger her life and Chakotay’s.  When the guards left, she wanted to get up and pace - anything to feel the exhilaration of action - but she knew that if she was bleeding internally, the best thing to do was to lie still, so she remained on the cot, staring up at the ceiling, trying to hold onto the feeling of safety she had experienced in Chakotay’s arms.

She didn’t realize that she had dozed off until she was jerked awake by the sound of the cell door opening.  She sat up on the bed as Chakotay staggered into the cell, two guards flanking him.  Kathryn was already on her feet when she realized that M’hel was standing in the doorway behind them.  “What do you want?”

“I suggest that you stay away from him, Admiral,” M’hel said in his high-pitched, nasal voice.

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want,” she snapped, moving towards Chakotay.

“Suit yourself,” said M’hel, and gave a sign with his right hand to the guards.  One guard grabbed Chakotay roughly and held him still while the other punched him hard in the stomach.  Chakotay doubled over and groaned in pain.  Janeway backed away, following M’hel’s instructions.  “So you can be cooperative,” the doctor mused.

“What do you want?” she asked again.

M’hel smiled a lecherous smile.  “I’d like to see how you react if we do... this.”  He gave another signal to the guards, and they began to take turns throwing punches at Chakotay.  He evaded the first one, but his parry sent him right into the waiting fist of the second guard, who hit him squarely in the jaw.  The guard’s fist sent Chakotay reeling, and the first guard took the opportunity to hit his midsection.  The other one got in another punch before Chakotay went careening to the floor with a loud groan.  One guard stood over him, poised to sink the toe of his boot into Chakotay’s ribs.

“Stop it!” Kathryn screamed.  “Stop it!  Stop it!”  Disregarding M’hel’s instructions, she threw herself between Chakotay and the guards, attempting to shield his body with her own.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw M’hel hold up a hand.  The guards stepped back, retreating into the corners of the cell.  “What do you want from us?” Kathryn bit out.

“I already told you, Admiral.  I want to study you.  I didn’t expect, originally, to have the pleasure of studying your... companion and your relationship with each other.  That is an unexpected bonus, I must admit.  I’ll be able to write a book about human behavior by the time I’m done with you.”

“We are not lab rats!  If you wanted information about our culture, you could have just asked.  We would have shared willingly.  Now, you’ll get nothing from us.  Ever.”

“You fail to understand, my dear.  Where would the fun be in simply asking?  Lists of data can only give a scientist so much information.  Seeing how you react when circumstances are utterly out of your control gives me a profound insight into the inner workings of the human mind.  For example, have you ever crawled into bed with him before today?”  M’hel gestured to Chakotay’s limp body on the floor.  

It was bad enough that he was experimenting on their bodies, but M’hel’s candid admission of his attempts to toy with their emotions was the last straw for Admiral Janeway.  Anger bubbling over inside of her, she lunged at the doctor, grabbing for the weapon he kept at his belt.  He was so unprepared for her advance that she actually managed to snatch the gun before the guards grabbed her and wrested the weapon from her control.  The guard who had seized the gun from her pulled back his hand and she anticipated the sting of his fist on her cheek, but the blow never came.

Instead, M’hel was laughing.  “Stop!” he ordered the guards in between guffaws.  “Stop.”  The guard lowered his hand, but the other Br’nai continued to restrain her, holding her against his massive chest.  When M’hel recovered his self-control, he narrowed his eyes.  “That was an impressive stunt, Admiral.  Don’t try it again.  Next time, I won’t stop them, and my guards would love the opportunity to take out their frustrations on you.”

“They seem to have already done so, on Commander Chakotay,” Janeway grated.

“Those weren’t the kind of frustrations I meant.”

Janeway set her jaw, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of thinking he had shocked her.  “My crew knows that we’re here,” she said, “and they won’t let you get away with this.  When they find you, your entire operation will go to hell.”

M’hel smirked.  “I doubt that, Admiral Janeway.  Have a pleasant evening.”  He shuffled out of the room, and the guard released her, jerking her shoulder roughly as he did so.  As she knelt beside Chakotay’s still frame, one of the guards took advantage of his proximity and gave her a swift kick in the ribs as he exited.

Kathryn cried out in pain as the kick sent her tumbling backwards onto the cold floor.  I will not let them beat me, she thought, feeling tears sting the back of her eyelids.  I will not let them get away with this.  She crawled back over to Chakotay.  His face was covered in blood where the guards’ punches had broken the skin.  His shirt had been torn across the midsection, and deep purple bruises marred his flesh.  As she looked down at his battered face, Kathryn trembled with rage, her hands balled up into fists, hot tears running down her cheeks.  For a moment, she thought she might vomit, but she swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that threatened to rise in her throat.  Her body shook with sobs as she moved to the bathroom to wet the piece of fabric she had torn from her uniform earlier.  She rinsed it and then returned to Chakotay’s side, attempting to clean his wounds.  She moved through a haze of anger, her vision blurred by tears.  By what right? she screamed silently.

The cell door opened again and Kathryn looked up, prepared with a biting accusation, but it was only the Br’nai girl who brought the food.  She placed the tray on the floor of the cell and began to retreat when Kathryn reached towards her.  “Please help me move him to the bed.  He’s hurt.”

The girl looked around nervously, as if trying to decide whether or not this was a violation of her orders.  Finally, her gaze settled on Chakotay’s battered form, and she gave a small nod.  She got under Chakotay’s legs as Kathryn lifted his torso.  The movement sent a shooting pain through Janeway’s abdomen, but she ignored it, breathing deeply and focusing instead on the Br’nai girl.  This was the first time she’d been able to elicit any response from the young woman.  

“I need some clean cloth,” Janeway said, gesturing to the dirty rag she had used.  “I need to clean his wounds, or else he will get sick.”  She pantomimed as she spoke, but the girl gave no indication of whether or not she understood.  “Please,” Janeway said.  “I need your help, or he could die.”  She thought she saw the girl nod, but she wasn’t sure.  The young woman left the tray of food as she always did and exited the cell.  She would be back in an hour or so to collect the dishes.

Kathryn examined the food: a bowl of broth and a hard cracker for each of them - a standard meal in the prison.  As she sat down to drink her broth, Kathryn realized that she was still shaking, and she ran through some of Tuvok’s meditation techniques to calm herself as she ate.  

She took the second bowl of broth over to Chakotay.  She sat on the cot behind him and propped his head up on her lap, trying to coax him awake.  “Dinner time,” she said, holding a spoon of broth to his lips.  He groaned but didn’t open his eyes.  His lips parted, and he allowed the spoon into his mouth.  As he tasted the food and swallowed, he opened his eyes and found himself staring up at Kathryn’s face.  From the look of it, she’d been crying.  “You have to eat,” she said, feeding him another spoonful.

“I wonder how many lowly commanders have had the pleasure of being spoon-fed by an admiral,” he joked, trying to make her smile.  With her help, he managed to sit up and took the dish from her.  His hands quivered as he spooned soup from the bowl.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I just went a couple rounds with an angry Nausicaan.”  He saw her worried look and reached out to touch her cheek.  “I’m okay.”

“What happened when they took you?”

“About the same thing as when they brought me back here.  They took me into a room and one of their thugs beat me up.  They didn’t even ask me any questions.  I don’t understand what they want.”

Kathryn grimaced.  “I’m beginning to.  When did you black out?”

“The last thing I remember is you yelling at them to stop.”

Janeway told him what M’hel had said, omitting the piece about their sleeping arrangements.

“So they’re seeing what happens when they beat me?”  Chakotay was becoming agitated.  “I’d think that was pretty obvious.”

“I don’t think M’hel is interested in the physical side of it, at least not exclusively.  I think he wants to know how you’ll react... and how I’ll react.”

Chakotay’s expression darkened.  He put down the bowl and began to stand.  “Why those...”

Kathryn stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.  “You need to eat,” she said firmly.

“Is that an order, Admiral?” he retorted, and immediately regretted it as he caught the pained expression that flickered across her features.  “I’m sorry.  I’m angry.  Angry at this whole situation.”  He slumped back against the wall.

She squeezed his hand and put on a brave face.  “I’m angry, too, Chakotay, but we have to stay united on this.  Okay?”

He nodded, burying his gaze in his soup bowl.  They sat in silence while he finished the soup and ate his cracker.  A little while later, the Br’nai girl came in to take the dishes.  She didn’t meet Janeway’s eyes or say a word, and Kathryn felt her hopes evaporate.  But after the girl left, Kathryn saw something on the ground where the tray had been.  When she stood and walked over to see what it was, she found several strips of clean, white cloth.  She picked them up and pressed them to her heart, her back to Chakotay, hiding from him the tears that stung her eyes.  She felt the soft fabric beneath her fingers, knowing that what she held in her hands was hope.

B’Elanna Torres paced back and forth along the length of her quarters, trying to contain her anger and avoid waking her husband and daughter who slept in the next room.  She was still fuming at Seven, and Tuvok’s decision only added to her frustration.  They were supposed to be rescuing Janeway and Chakotay, not sitting here waiting.  She understood Tuvok’s logic, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.    

“B’Elanna, come to bed,” Tom urged, emerging from the bedroom.  He wore a t-shirt and boxer shorts, his hair mussed.

“I can’t sleep.”

“You have to rest,” her husband coaxed her.  “You’ve barely slept for the last two days.”

“Chakotay and the admiral are trapped down there, undergoing who knows what kind of torture by these Br’nai monsters, and you want to sleep?”  She stopped pacing and turned to face him.

“B’Elanna,” Tom said softly, stepping closer to her and taking her shoulders, “they’re my friends, too, but we agreed to wait until the Titan arrives.  No rescue operation will be a success if we’re exhausted.”

“I’m tired of waiting.”  She shrugged off his hands and began to pace again.  “What if Riker doesn’t want to help us?  What if he toes the Starfleet line and drags us back to San Francisco?  Where will that leave us?”  Her volume increased as she spoke.

“Shh!  You’ll wake Miral,” Tom hissed.  He took his wife’s shoulders again, forcing her to look at him.  “B’Elanna, we all agreed that this was the best course of action.  I know you’re angry and frustrated and worried.  We all are.  Chakotay and the admiral are our friends, and I know that Chakotay means a lot to you.  We will get them back.  You just have to be patient.”  B’Elanna slumped against Tom’s chest, and he gathered her in his arms.  She held him fiercely, as if the warmth of his embrace could make her anger and fear disappear.

“Tuvok to Paris.”

Tom tapped his comm badge, disengaging from the embrace but keeping one hand firmly on B’Elanna’s shoulder.  “Paris here.”

“Please report to the bridge.”

“I’m on my way.  Paris out.”  He looked at his wife and kissed her on the forehead.  “Try to get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”  She grabbed his hand as he was about to head out the door and pulled him back to her, pressing her lips to his.  “I love you,” she whispered.

“Me, too.”

When Paris arrived on the bridge, he relieved Baytart from the conn.  The Doctor, Seven and Tuvok were also present, and Tom briefly wished that Harry was there, too.  His friend was really going to feel like he missed out on this one, but it was probably for the best.  The last thing Tom wanted was for Harry’s impeccable Starfleet record to be tarnished, and they were definitively all about to tarnish whatever Starfleet records they had left.

“The Titan has entered communications range,” Seven reported.

“Open a channel,” ordered Tuvok.

William Riker’s face appeared on the view screen.  “Commander Tuvok.  I didn’t expect you to be hailing me.”

“Captain Riker, I am aware that Starfleet has sent you to bring the Hugh back to Earth, but another situation has arisen, and I would like to request your assistance.”

“I take it that the crew of the Hugh is now aboard Voyager?”

“They are.  But I have new evidence in the matter of Admiral Janeway’s death.”

Will’s attention was piqued.  “I’m listening.”

“We have proof that the Br’nai manufactured evidence to prove that Admiral Janeway’s was dead, and we have reason to believe that she is alive and being held on Br’nai.  In an attempt to rescue her, Commander Chakotay has also been captured by the Br’nai.  I ask that you review our evidence before you decide on your next course of action.”  Tuvok signaled to Seven with one hand.  “We are transmitting the data to you now.”

“We’ll review your data.  If I’m not convinced, our orders stand.  If you will not turn the Hugh and its crew over to me in that case, I will have no choice but to open fire.  Riker out.”

The view screen went black and Tom whirled around in his chair.  “Well, Tuvok, I hope your instincts are right.”

“It is not a matter of instinct, Mr. Paris.  It is a matter of logic.”

Tom turned back to the conn.  “Yeah, right.  Whatever you say.”

“Commander Liara, you have the bridge,” Riker said.  Without a request from him, Deanna stood and followed him into his ready room.  Internally, he smiled.  They worked well together, and the empathic connection they had forged long ago had only strengthened in the year since their marriage.  Once in the ready room, Will sat down, opening his computer terminal to examine the data.  Deanna came around behind him to look over his shoulder.  “What do you think?” he asked.

“Commander Tuvok honestly believes what he’s telling you.”  

Riker nodded, and together, they poured over the data that Voyager had sent them.  When they had finished looking through it, Will looked up at his wife with concern.  “Senior staff, report to the briefing room.”

After a little over a year of working together, the relationships among his senior staff still felt somewhat clumsy to Riker.  He knew he had been spoiled serving aboard the Enterprise for so long, and that, given time, his staff would work together seamlessly.  He had developed an excellent relationship with his first officer, the half-human, half-Bajoran Commander Liara Aves.  She was the first to arrive in the briefing room, following closely by the ops officer, Lieutenant Ajit Sood and the chief of security, Lieutenant Commander Devan.  Devan was a Zaldan, a species known for their tendency to be blunt.  Lieutenant Nathaniel Rand, Riker’s chief engineer, was the youngest member of the senior staff.  He had been at the top of his class at the Academy only a few years earlier, and his inventiveness and ingenuity had earned him high praise from all of his professors as well as his former commanding officer, Captain Shelby, who had remained a friend of Riker’s ever since the Battle of Wolf 359.  Riker had stolen Alyssa Ogawa from the Enterprise for his CMO.  

Riker filled his staff in on the situation on Br’nai and the new evidence he had received regarding Admiral Janeway’s death.  “Thoughts?” he asked.

“I don’t think we can trust the Br’nai,” Commander Liara replied, brushing a strand of short, black hair out of her face.  

“Agreed,” said Riker.  “But like it or not, they are our allies, at least for the moment.  We don’t want to risk starting a war.”

“With the information Voyager has provided, I might be able to program our scanners to penetrate the dampening field around the research facility,” said Lieutenant Rand.  “I might even be able to figure out a way to transport directly into the underground lab.”

“Work on it,” Riker ordered.

“Captain, I think you should approach the Br’nai through official channels,” Deanna suggested.  “Tell them we’re here to apprehend the ‘criminals’ who stole the Hugh but that some of the crew members are missing, and that we won’t leave until we find them.”

Riker nodded slowly.  “They’ll need to cooperate or risk losing the alliance.  That will buy us some time to investigate what really happened.”  Riker looked around the table.  “Deanna, Alyssa, Commander Devan, you’ll accompany me down to the surface.  Lieutenant Rand, work on a way to get through that dampening field.  Dismissed.”  The senior staff hurried out of the briefing room, and Riker headed for the bridge, taking the captain’s chair.  “Hail Voyager.”

Tuvok reappeared on the screen, and Riker informed him of his plan.  “I will send a team to work in tandem with yours,” said Tuvok.  “If Lieutenant Rand can find a way to beam through the shield grid, my team can beam directly to the underground lab while you distract the Br’nai above ground.”

“Agreed,” said Riker.  “I will contact Emperor Ch’a’fen.  Titan out.”  Tuvok’s face disappeared, and Riker turned to Lieutenant Sood.  “Open a channel to the Br’nai.”

“Channel open.”

“On screen.”  A Br’nai male appeared on the screen in front of him.  He had dark hair and the characteristic dark stripe running from the tip of his nose to his forehead.  “This is Captain Riker of the Federation starship Titan.”

“I am R’fet of the Emperor’s Royal Guard.  How may I assist you?”

“I am here on an urgent mission from Starfleet Command.  I need to speak with Emperor Ch’a’fen.”

“Please wait,” R’fet replied, and the screen went blank.

A moment later, a man appeared, dressed in white robes, seated on a throne.  His blonde hair glistened under the lights and his piercing black eyes flashed.  “Captain Riker, I have been expecting you.  I am Emperor Ch’a’fen.”

“Emperor,” Riker said with a small bow, “as I’m sure you’ve already been told, I’m here to apprehend the criminals who stole a starship from us and came to your world without authorization.”

“Frankly, Captain, I’m astonished that you permit such breaches of security,” the emperor replied.  “I would never allow such a thing.”

Will glanced over at his wife, noting the look of deep concentration on her face.  She was sensing something; he could tell, but he’d have to wait to find out what.  “It’s not typical for Starfleet to have breaches of this kind, Your Highness, I assure you.  I plan to take these criminals back to Earth with me immediately.  However, one of them is missing on your planet.  I’d like to ask your permission to send an away team to search for him.  We must apprehend him before we return to Earth so we can correct this security breach.”

“I was not aware that one of the renegades was on Br’nai.  How did they breach our security?”

“I haven’t learned that yet myself, but his colleagues, who are in my custody, have informed me that he went to the facility where Admiral Janeway disappeared, and is now missing.”

Ch’a’fen studied Riker for a moment.  “Captain, I will allow you to send a team on one condition.  They will be accompanied by members of my Royal Guard at all times.”

“Agreed.  Titan out.”  When the screen went blank, Will turned to Deanna.

“There’s something strange about him.  I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Strange, how?  Is he lying?”

She shook her head.  “No, he’s telling the truth, or at least he thinks he is.”  She thought hard for a moment and then shook her head again.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t be more specific right now.”

Riker looked at the screen.  The Br’nai obviously had a lot to hide.  The question was what they stood to gain from their deception.

Chakotay had been sitting on the ground next to the cot, Kathryn’s hand resting comfortably in his as she’d slept, when the guards came in.  They roughly pushed him aside and dragged her out of the cell.  He had tried to stop them, but his attempts had only earned him another punch in the gut.  He felt the tenderness around his ribs; chances were good at least one of them was broken.  

That had been several hours earlier, and Chakotay was still seething.  He hadn’t been this angry since his Maquis days, a constant rage bubbling just below the surface.  When Kathryn was in the room, he could contain it; his desire to protect her outweighed his anger, but now his fury threatened to boil over.  His mind cycled through a list of questions: What did the Br’nai want with them?  What made Dr. M’hel so sure he could get away with imprisoning two Starfleet officers?  Kathryn had alluded to genetic research, but what could be so important to the Br’nai that they would risk war with the Federation?  

The images of Kathryn’s bruised skin and tear-stained face kept returning to his mind.  Again and again, he heard her scream, “Stop it!  Stop it!” as the Br’nai guards beat him.  He clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it angrily against the metal wall of the cell, letting out a guttural yell.  Agony jolted through his arm, and he forced himself to calm down.  Breaking his own hand wouldn’t do either of them any good, so he stood and began to pace.  The throbbing pain he felt in his midsection was almost satisfying.  

You deserve it, he thought.  You couldn’t rescue her from these monsters and you can’t protect her now.  She could be lying under a surgeon’s knife at this very moment, helpless as they pick her apart piece by piece.  You might never see her again, and she’d never even know...  You’re a coward, Chakotay.  Even as he said the words to himself, he knew that they weren’t true, but he felt he deserved the self-inflicted punishment, so he continued, running over the sequence of events again and again in his mind.  I should have done something more.  I should have stopped it.  I wasn’t there when she needed me.  Finally, he sat down on the edge of the cot and lowered his head into his hands, releasing a loud sob; he remained motionless as utter despair crept over him.  He didn’t raise his head until he heard the cell doors open.

He looked up to see two Br’nai guards dragging Kathryn’s unconscious form between them.  They dropped her on floor and left.  Resisting the urge to lunge after the guards and attack them, Chakotay lifted Kathryn’s body and carried her to the bed, cradling her against him.  As he placed her down, he felt something wet, and when he drew his hand away, it was smeared with blood.  Gently turning her onto her side, he saw a deep red stain seeping through her grey tank.  The “doctors” were getting more and more careless.  She had told him that at first she hadn’t even been sure they had done anything to her.  Now they cut into her and failed to close the wound properly.  There was still a clean piece of cloth that the girl had brought them, and he used it as a compress on the gash, holding it against the side of Janeway’s back firmly until the bleeding stopped.  

She began to stir and tried to turn over as she opened her eyes.  “Chakotay?”

“Don’t move,” he said quietly.  “You’re bleeding.”

“We have to get out of here.”

“Agreed.”

“When the girl brought us our breakfast this morning, while you were asleep, I asked her to help us.  I’m still not sure she understands me, but after she brought the cloth last night, I’m hopeful.”

Satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, Chakotay knelt at the head of the bed, near Kathryn’s face, so it was easier for her to meet his eyes.  “Kathryn, I was thinking, when they took you this afternoon, there are so many unfinished conversations between us.  I...”

She cut him off, placing her fingers over his lips and shaking her head as if to say, Not now.  Not here.  

He closed his eyes, understanding her request.  “Kathryn, if we don’t make it out of here...”

“We will, Chakotay,” she said softly.  “And then we’ll have all those conversations.  Every single one of them.  We can even have them twice if you want,” she joked, trying to raise his spirits.

She succeeded, at least partway, as he gave her a halfhearted smile.  “I just want you to know...”

“Shh, Chakotay,” she replied, putting her fingers over his lips again, this time more tenderly.  “I know.”

He nodded, his smile reaching the corners of his eyes as he captured the fingers pressed to his lips and kissed them.  He touched his lips to her forehead as she drifted off into a troubled sleep, and he kept vigil over her.  His anger no longer overflowing, he sat near her and stroked her hair as she slept.  

When the girl brought their supper, her dark eyes met Chakotay’s fully for the first time.  He caught a glimpse of something in her unreadable expression as she handed him the tray of food.  Her eyes flicked to Janeway’s unconscious form and the bloody rags on the floor.  She blinked twice and looked down at the napkin on the tray before she released it into Chakotay’s hands.  Then, she turned and quickly left the room.  When Chakotay put down the tray and lifted up one corner of the napkin, he discovered that it concealed a sharp blade.  

Seven and Tom Paris materialized aboard the Titan and found themselves face to face with Captain Will Riker and his away team.  “Lieutenant Tom Paris, sir,” he said, extending his hand to the captain.

Riker stepped forward and shook Paris’ hand.  “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant.  And you must be...”

“I am Seven of Nine.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Riker replied, grasping her hand with a smile.  He’d heard a great deal about the former drone, but this was his first opportunity to meet her in person.  There was something about her that reminded him a little of Data - the way that she seemed not at all and completely human at the same time.  “This is Counselor Deanna Troi, our CMO, Dr. Alyssa Ogawa, and my Chief of Security, Lieutenant Commander Devan.”  Riker turned to the young engineer who stood behind the transporter controls.  “Lieutenant Rand?”

Nathaniel Rand looked up from his work, a strand of his sandy hair falling into his face.  “Lieutenant Paris, I’m going to piggyback yours and Seven’s signals on the away team’s transporter beam.  The Br’nai won’t be able to detect the transport.  I’ve found a weakening in the shield grid so I can beam you directly to the underground tunnels.  Hopefully it’s out of the way enough that you won’t have any company.”  He gave Seven a lopsided smile, but when she did not return the gesture, he continued awkwardly.  “So... uh... I’m ready whenever you are, Captain.”

Riker nodded.  “Energize.”  While Riker, Troi, Devan and Ogawa met Dr. R’lar at the Science Foundation, Paris and Seven found themselves in the bowels of the underground research facility, facing a maze of tunnels.  

Seven tossed Tom a tricorder and activated her own.  “I have modified these to compensate for the interference from the shield grid.  Their range will still be limited, but they will function in this environment.”

Paris nodded and activated the tricorder.  “This way,” he said, and they walked into the darkness.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the cell, and Janeway’s ears perked up.  She exchanged a glance with Chakotay and made sure the blade was fully concealed in her sleeve.  He nodded, and she took her prearranged position, lying on the floor with him kneeling beside her.  She gave him a wink and he squeezed her hand.  Just as the cell doors opened, Chakotay became frantic.  “Help me!” he screamed.  “Please, get a doctor.  She collapsed and I can’t wake her!”  He shook Kathryn’s limp body, inadvertently sending a jolt of pain through her midsection.  She forced herself not to react.

As they had hoped, one of the guards took the bait.  As he leaned over to peer curiously at Janeway’s body, Chakotay sunk his elbow into the back of the guard’s neck, causing him to stumble forward.  Swiftly, Kathryn rolled away, leaping into action before the guard’s weight fell on her.  Her roll took her towards the second guard whose hand was already on his weapon.  Completing her roll, Kathryn sliced his leg with the blade, causing his shot to miss badly.  She clasped her hands together, and, hoping Br’nai physiology was similar to human, she swung her fists firmly into the guard’s groin.  He groaned in pain, doubling over.

On the other side of the cell, Chakotay had knocked the weapon out of the other guard’s hand, but the guard had, in retaliation, grabbed Chakotay’s wrists and pinned him against the wall.  Allowing his anger full reign, Chakotay threw his head into the guard’s nose, and the Br’nai lightened his grip on Chakotay’s wrists and recoiled.  Chakotay took advantage of this momentary disorientation and pulled his hands away, landing a solid punch to the Br’nai’s jaw.  Wiping blue blood from his nose, the guard raised his fist to retaliate, but Chakotay was prepared and he was furious.

Kathryn had managed to wrest her guard’s gun away from him and shot him neatly in the chest.  She whirled around, prepared to deliver the same fate to the other guard, but Chakotay already had the situation in hand.  He had wrestled the guard to the ground and was beating him, the alien’s blue blood spattering on the walls of the cell and on Chakotay’s clothes.  Pure hatred shot like daggers from his eyes as he rained blows down upon his victim.  

“Chakotay!” Kathryn said sharply, but he didn’t seem to hear her.  She was sure the guard was already dead, but Chakotay kept pummeling him in rage.  “Chakotay!” she yelled, louder this time.  “Chakotay!”  Something in her tone finally pulled him out of his fury.  He looked up at her and then down at the guard and the blood on his hands.  “Commander,” Janeway said in her most authoritative voice, “we have to move.  There’s no time.”

Coming to his senses, Chakotay grabbed the disruptor rifle from his bloody victim and followed Janeway out of the cell.  They could hear voices approaching; no doubt someone had heard the commotion of their fight.  They began to run, disruptors at the ready, until they reached an intersection in the corridor and stopped, unsure which way to turn.  They heard footsteps and froze; Chakotay instinctively stepped in front of Kathryn, trying to protect her.  The footsteps were closing in on them from all directions; they had nowhere to run.  One set of footsteps was nearly upon them, and Janeway motioned to Chakotay to take one side of their approaching attacker while she took the other.  They both stood, weapons aimed towards the figure that emerged from the corridor.

It was the Br’nai girl.  As soon as they recognized her, they lowered their weapons.  The girl motioned to both of them silently, indicating that they should go with her.  Exchanging a glance, they followed her as she led them down the corridor from which she had come.  Their pursuers were gaining on them, voices and footsteps closing in.  The young woman stopped midway down the corridor and knelt down, pulling a grate away from the juncture between floor and wall.  She gestured at the opening and then slipped inside effortlessly, motioning for Janeway and Chakotay to do the same.  As the sound of the Br’nai guards approached, Janeway saw no other option.  She lowered herself into the hole, and Chakotay was right behind her, pulling the grate closed over their heads.  By the time the guards reached the corridor, their prisoners were long gone.

“Captain Riker, I can assure you our teams have canvassed this area dozens of times,” R’lar said.  “There has been no sign of any of your people.”

“I appreciate your assurances, Dr. R’lar, but we’d like to see for ourselves if you don’t mind.”

Reluctantly, R’lar stepped aside.  Everything at the facility had been turned upside down ever since the Enterprise had first arrived, and all he wanted was for his life to return to normal.  He didn’t need interference from Starfleet and he certainly didn’t want the Emperor’s Royal Guard looking over his shoulder.

“Deanna, Commander Devan, check out the main building in the center.  Dr. Ogawa and I will start here,” Riker ordered.  One member of the Royal Guard followed each team.  Riker doubted that the Br’nai were careless enough to leave anything incriminating lying around, but it didn’t hurt to look.  Besides, the longer they kept the Br’nai distracted, the better chance Paris and Seven would have of figuring out what happened to Janeway and Chakotay.

Troi and Devan fanned out towards the large dome in the center of the complex, the guard only a couple paces behind them.  Something felt strange to Deanna.  She’d felt unsettled since their arrival on Br’nai, but she hadn’t been able to figure out why.  As they neared the dome, her feeling of unease grew stronger.  They entered it, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Commander?” Devan queried.

She pulled out her tricorder and studied it for a moment before asking, “How many life forms do you detect below this chamber?”

Devan looked down at his tricorder.  “Below?  I don’t detect any life forms below this chamber.”

Deanna nodded.  “Neither do I.  But there are thousands.”  She gestured to Devan.  “Come on.  I want to ask Dr. R’lar some questions.”  They hurried back across the complex and found Riker, Ogawa and R’lar in one of the smaller buildings.

Riker was surprised when Deanna and Devan reappeared, but he sensed the anxiety emanating from his wife.  “Deanna, what’s wrong?  Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, turning to R’lar.  “What’s below this facility?”

“Below?” the scientist asked uncomfortably.  “Rock, I believe, composed of several different minerals...”  R’lar trailed off as Deanna crossed her arms over her chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she accused.  “There’s something else here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” R’lar replied, and it didn’t take an empath to sense that he was nervous.

“You’re lying,” Deanna stated.  Riker’s hand went to his phaser.

“That’s enough!” R’lar sputtered.  “This investigation is over.  Get out of my facility!  Out!  Out!  Out!”  The scientist’s voice became shrill as he gestured wildly with his arms.

Deanna sensed something else nearby that caught her attention, a familiar presence, and Will heard her voice in his head.  Keep them distracted.

“I’m sorry, Dr. R’lar,” the captain said, “but we’re not ready to leave yet.  We’re here with Emperor Ch’a’fen’s permission.  You wouldn’t want to risk a diplomatic incident, would you?”

R’lar gulped.  He knew the emperor wanted to maintain good relations with the Federation, and he realized that the more he protested, the more suspicious he would appear, and the more likely Riker was to press the issue.  Not only would this put at stake the project to which he had devoted his life, it would incur the wrath of Dr. M’hel, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.  “Very well,” he relented.  “Continue your investigation.”

The tunnels were dark, cramped and hot.  Chakotay felt sweat trickling down his back and watched as it dripped off his nose and onto a rock.  They had followed the girl through a series of tunnels, but each time one of them tried to speak, she shushed them, indicating it wasn’t safe to talk.  The girl moved nimbly, but Chakotay and Janeway had a hard time matching her pace.  Chakotay was sure he had at least one broken rib, and it was getting harder and harder for him to breathe in the thick underground air.  He glanced back at Kathryn, who trailed slightly behind him.  She looked pale, but she nodded to him to continue.

Despite the warm air in the tunnels, Janeway was cold.  Her fight with the Br’nai guard had reopened the wound in her side, and she guessed that she was losing blood, but she knew they couldn’t afford to stop moving.  She tried to keep up with Chakotay’s steady pace, knowing that he, too, was in pain.  As they crawled, the tunnel around them became wider and taller.  The girl stood in front of them.  “It is safe to speak, now,” she said.

“Thank you,” Chakotay replied.  He lowered his hand to Kathryn, and she let him help her to her feet.  She immediately realized that had been a mistake as black spots threatened the corners of her vision and the walls seemed to spin around her.  “Woah,” said Chakotay softly, catching her and steadying her against him.  “You okay?”

She shut her eyes against the dizziness and gripped Chakotay’s arm with both hands.  “I think I need to sit down.”

“Okay.”  Gently, he lowered her to the ground, and as he did so, his hand brushed the raw wound and she winced in pain.  Chakotay immediately realized what was happening.  Checking the wound, he saw a dark patch of fresh blood spreading across Kathryn’s top.  He turned to the girl.  “She needs medical attention.”

“It is many lengths to the surface,” the girl replied, “but when we reach it, you can bring her to my village.  We don’t have technology.  It’s not like here.  But my people will take care of her.”

Chakotay looked down at Kathryn, whose features were pale, and took her hand.  Her skin felt cold and clammy, but her eyes were bright and determined.  “We’ll make it,” she assured him as she let him pull her to her feet.  He wrapped an arm around her waist, careful to avoid her wound, and she slung one arm over his shoulder so she could lean on him for support.  Janeway looked at the girl.  “What’s your name?”

“Mei,” she answered shyly.

“I’m Kathryn.  He’s Chakotay.  Thank you for helping us, Mei.”  The girl nodded and Janeway gave her a reassuring smile.  “Let’s go.”

Tom and Seven had been wandering through the barren white corridors of the underground compound for quite some time but had found no evidence of the admiral or the commander.  They had tried to avoid the more populated areas, using the modified tricorders to scan for life signs.  “We might have to move in closer,” Tom said.  “If you...”

The beeping of Seven’s tricorder cut him off.  “Lieutenant,” she said urgently, “life signs, this way: two human and one Br’nai.”  They headed in the direction of the signal, but after only a few moments, they ran into what appeared to be a dead end.  “There appears to be a cavern of some sort behind this wall,” Seven observed, looking at the readings on her tricorder.

Paris examined the panels on the wall and pried one loose.  He staggered backwards with the force of the pull, but when he regained his balance, he saw that there was a large cave behind the wall.  He climbed through the opening and offered his hand to Seven, assisting her as she followed.

The cavern was not large, but several tunnels split off in different directions.  Seven motioned for Tom to follow her down the tunnel to their right.  “We do not know if the Br’nai are holding them captive, or how long it will take someone to notice that a panel was removed from that wall.  We must be prepared.”  She drew her phaser.

“Agreed.”

She glanced down at her tricorder again.  “They are moving.  This way.”  The air in the tunnels was stifling, and Seven felt herself beginning to sweat - a decidedly unpleasant human trait.  The life signs on her tricorder moved slowly, and she and Paris only walked a few more meters before she saw two familiar figures down the tunnel.  

“Admiral!” Tom called.  “Chakotay!”  He began to move at a faster pace, and Seven followed, jogging behind him.

“Tom!” Chakotay exclaimed with relief.  “Help me.  She’s injured.”

Paris moved swiftly to Chakotay’s side.  “Tom,” Janeway managed.  “It’s about time you showed up.”  She slung her arm over Paris’ shoulder, and he took her weight from an exhausted Chakotay.

“We would’ve been here sooner, Admiral, but we, uh, ran into some friends along the way.”

Seven gave Tom a disapproving look.  “I believe Lieutenant Paris is attempting to use humor to diffuse a tense situation.”

“That’s all right, Seven.  I’ve actually missed Tom’s humor.”  Janeway tried to sound lighthearted, but the frailty in her voice betrayed her condition.

Chakotay noticed the Br’nai girl cowering in the corner and spoke to her softly, “Mei, these are our friends.  This is Tom, and that’s Seven.  They’re here to help us.  They’re going to take us away from your world.”

Unexpectedly, Mei threw herself on her knees at Chakotay’s feet.  “Please, Master Cha-ko-tay, let me come with you.  Once it is discovered that I helped you, my life will be over.  Even if I return to my village, Dr. M’hel will find me and punish me.”

Chakotay glanced at Kathryn and she nodded.  He reached down and drew Mei to her feet.  “I’m not your master, Mei.  No one is.  If you would like to come with us, you may, but our home is far from here.  If you leave Br’nai now, you might never see your family again.”    

“I have no family,” the girl replied with surprising strength in her voice.  “Only orphans are taken to work at the secret place, so that no one will miss them, and they will not be able to return home and reveal the government’s secrets.  Once Dr. M’hel discovers that I have helped you, he will kill me.” 

Chakotay nodded his acceptance of her decision.   

“The shield grid is weak enough for transport just a few meters from here,” Seven said, leading the group down another tunnel.  

When they arrived, Paris tapped his comm badge.  “Paris to Titan.  Five to beam up.”  The transporter beam caught them, and as they rematerialized in the transporter room of the Titan, Tom realized that Janeway had gone unconscious in his arms.

The away team had just resumed their search when R’lar was called away from them.  Deanna couldn’t hear the conversation, but she felt the Br’nai scientist’s sudden apprehension and anger, and Riker caught the words “escape” and “prison” in the dialogue.  He signaled the rest of the away team that it was time to go.  As they edged towards the door of the building, one of the emperor’s guards stepped in front of the door to block their path, drawing his weapon.  

The captain tapped his communicator.  “Riker to Titan.  Four to beam up.”  Another guard had stepped close and pointed a rifle at them.

“They’re trying to block the transport, Captain,” Rand’s voice replied.  “Attempting to compensate.”

“Now, Lieutenant!” Riker ordered.  Through the window, he could see another group of Br’nai approaching the building, and they were all armed.

Chapter Text

11

Broken

If I loved you
Time and again I would try to say
All I’d want you to know.
                            -Oscar Hammerstein II

“Bridge to transporter room.  Do you have them, Lieutenant?” asked Commander Liara.

"Just give me one more minute,” replied Rand.

“I’m detecting weapons fire on the surface,” Lieutenant Sood reported.

“You don’t have one more minute, Mr. Rand,” Liara said.  She stood from her chair, unable to sit as her anticipation mounted.

There was a terrifying moment of silence before Rand’s voice came over the comm system, “I’ve got them, Commander.”

“Good work, Lieutenant.”

“Two Br’nai ships in pursuit,” Sood said.

“Evasive maneuvers.”

As Riker, Troi and Devan strode onto the bridge, the ship was rocked with a blast from one of the Br’nai fighters.  “Return fire,” the captain ordered, grabbing a railing for support as he made his way back to his chair.  “Target their weapons.”

“Direct hit,” Devan reported as he took his station, relieving the ensign who had been at tactical.  “No effect.”

Another blast rocked the Titan.  “Shields down to eighty percent,” said Sood.

“Evasive pattern delta,” ordered Riker.  “Arm photon torpedoes and fire.”

“The lead ship’s weapons have been disabled,” said Devan.  “The other vessel is breaking off pursuit.”

“Set a course to rendezvous with Voyager,” Riker ordered.  “Engage.”

“How could this have happened?” M’hel bellowed.  He stood, arms crossed, in front of the desk in his private office.

R’lar seemed to shrink several centimeters.  “I’ve been told there was a breach.  Someone helped them.”

“Who?”  M’hel’s eyes narrowed.

“One of the serving girls has disappeared.  It must have been her.”

Angrily, M’hel swept his arm across his desk, breaking an empty vial and sending papers flying to the floor.  “Damned bitch!  We give those whores too much responsibility.  They come from nowhere, they are no one.  How dare someone like that defy me?  An inferior?  Have the rest of the serving girls’ meals cut in half for the rest of the week.  No, for the rest of the month.”

“Yes, Doctor.”  

“Well, what are you waiting for?  Go!”  M’hel waved his hand and R’lar scurried out of the room, leaving the doctor to seethe.  More than anything, he was fuming that anyone had gotten as far into the compound as the intruders had.  He had always prided himself on flawless security, but these Federation people had foiled him by using one of his own servants.  He glanced at the mess he had left around his desk and ignored it, leaving it for the night crew to clean.  He knew exactly what he needed to lift his spirits - a visit to his most cherished project.  

He opened a hidden door at the back of his office that led to a secret lift, and he stepped into it, entering a complex code into the control panel.  As the lift sped downward, M’hel closed his eyes, savoring the cooling temperature and the silence of solitude.  He stepped out of the lift onto a parapet that overlooked a vast cavern.  This was his masterpiece.  As he looked out, he realized that nothing the Federation did or said would change anything in the end.  When he completed his life’s work, the Federation would never know what had hit them.
    

Giant trees stretched towards the sky, and abundant vegetation permeated the forest.  The breeze smelled fresh and clean, and dampness hung in the air.  A bird sang from high up in one of the trees as the sun sank low on the horizon.  Seven sighed contentedly as she sat on a tuft of grass near the edge of a cliff, admiring the view.  She heard the sound of footsteps behind her, but she didn’t turn.  Somehow, she knew that her visitor intended her no harm.  “Beautiful view,” she said.

“Annika,” her visitor replied, “I need to speak with you.”

She turned her head and smiled up at him.  “Join me,” she offered, patting the ground beside her.  She wondered why it did not seem strange to her that he was there and tried unsuccessfully to remember the last time she had seen him.  She knew only that it felt right for him to be here with her now.

“Annika, it’s urgent,” he said.

Reluctantly, she turned away from the view and stood to examine her visitor.  “I’m listening.”

“Where are you?” he asked.  She thought that it was a strange question since he was standing right in front of her.  She told him so, but he only asked the question again.  “I need to know,” he said.

She looked out at the view once more, suddenly realizing that she didn’t know the answer.  “On Earth?” she replied, hesitantly.  “I don’t know.  I do not recognize this location.”

Her visitor shook his head.  “Never mind, I think we’ve found you.  Annika, you’re in danger - you and Captain Janeway and everyone else in the Federation.”

Now Seven became confused.  This conversation did not belong in her dream of the sunset...  Wait, dream?  Was she dreaming?  If she was dreaming, would she know that she was dreaming?  “What are you talking about, Axum?” she asked, reaching up to touch his cheek.  It felt real.  He felt real.

“The Borg.  They want to assimilate the Federation.  We’ve been fighting them, but we can’t hold them off alone.  We’ll keep them away from you as long as we can, but...”  He glanced behind him, as if he heard someone approaching, but Seven saw no one.  “I don’t have much time,” he said.  “I wanted to warn you.  I had to let you know before...”  His form began to fade.

“Axum!” she cried, reaching out her hand for him.  

“Annika!”  He reached towards her but before they could make contact, he shimmered out of existence.

Seven of Nine’s eyes snapped open.  She was breathing hard and it took her a moment to regain her bearings.  She stepped down from her alcove.  “Regeneration cycle incomplete,” the computer informed her.  She was on Voyager.  She was fine.  

Strange images played in her mind - images of a sunset and of Axum.  They were not actual memories; she realized that she must have been dreaming.  Something about the Borg...  She shook her head.  Dreams were so inefficient.  They plagued humans during their sleep and often contained strange and disturbing imagery that seemed to hamper effective rest.  Shaking off the perplexing images and the discomfort she felt, Seven stepped back into her alcove.  “Computer, resume regeneration cycle.”

V’tan was fuming.  M’hel had lost his prisoners, both of them.  Now Janeway not only knew about their underground research facility, but she was free of it, and it was likely that her body carried proof of M’hel’s experiments.  V’tan paced back and forth across his office.  As usual, it was up to him to correct the mistakes of others.  He would have to ensure that no one would listen to Janeway’s accusations.  At least publicly, M’hel alone would have to be blamed for the incident and made out to be an insane renegade.  On top of that, Janeway and her people would have to be discredited.  He had already begun the process by establishing the Maquis as a suspect in the Paris bombings and didn’t think it would be difficult to smear the former Borg or the hologram.  But first, he needed to deflect attention away from the issue of Janeway’s imprisonment.  The less time spent investigating it, the better.

An urgent communication popped up on his computer monitor with a ding, and he sat down at his desk to read it.  As he read the message, his eyes widened, and he began to formulate ways in which he could mold the situation to his advantage.  The communique contained intelligence relating to a potential Borg invasion, and it had been sent to him directly from Admiral Ross.

A Borg invasion.  It was the perfect way to assure that Janeway and the other Starfleet officers left Br’nai, and that Starfleet’s attention was diverted away from her capture.  V’tan began to smile as his mind reviewed the possibilities.  This might be an opportunity not only to get rid of Janeway, but to cripple the entire Federation.  The ambassador chuckled.  His original plan hadn’t involved destroying Starfleet this early in the game, but he knew how to take advantage of circumstances as they arose.  After all, why should he use Br’nai resources when the Borg could do his dirty work for him?

As she dipped her spoon into a bowl of chocolate ice cream, Deanna Troi leaned towards her husband.  They sat in the privacy of her office, discussing their experiences on Br’nai.  “It’s hard to describe, Will.  The minds I sensed were unlike the other Br’nai we encountered - more unified somehow, as if they were all...”  She paused, a cold realization hitting her.  “As if they were all thinking the same thing.”

Will stroked his beard.  “Clones?”

“I don’t know,” Deanna replied, taking a bite of her ice cream.  “Shinzon is the only clone I’ve ever encountered, and he was unique.  This was like... more like the Borg.  But not one hive mind, many minds.”

“Could you sense what they were thinking?  Did they have hostile intentions?”

Deanna shook her head.  “I couldn’t tell.  But there were thousands of them, Will.  I’m sure of that.”

“And yet our sensors didn’t detect anything, just as they couldn’t detect the research facility where Admiral Janeway and Commander Chakotay were held.”

The comm link beeped.  “Bridge to Captain Riker,” Commander Liara said.

“Riker here.”

“You have a priority one transmission from Starfleet Command, sir.”

“Patch it through to Counselor Troi’s office.”  

Deanna walked over to the view screen on the wall and activated it.  The Starfleet symbol appeared, followed soon after by the face of Admiral Alynna Nechayev.  “Captain Riker,” she said.

“Admiral.”

“Is this channel secure, Captain?”

Riker nodded.  Something was obviously wrong.  “Deanna is here with me.”

“I have some bad news, Captain, and new orders for you.  Commander Troi may as well hear them too.  But first, I want your report on the Voyager situation.”

Riker informed Nechayev that they now had proof that Admiral Janeway had been abducted and experimented on and also told her of the presence that Deanna had sensed below the surface.  “The Br’nai are keeping secrets from us, Admiral.  Crucial information, and I don’t like it.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement,” Nechayev replied, “but we have bigger problems.  Lieutenant Barclay spoke with Ambassador Neelix in the Delta Quadrant yesterday, and Neelix has been hearing rumors about Borg fleet movements.”

“Borg?” asked Deanna.

“Yes, and they seem to be headed in your direction, Captain.  The repercussions of Commander Chakotay’s rash actions will have to wait.  Your orders are to remain near Br’nai and serve as the first line of defense against the Borg.  Admiral Ross is meeting with Ambassador V’tan today to ask the Br’nai for assistance.  The Ajax and the Pueblo aren’t too far from your coordinates.  I’ll be sending them to join you as well.  Voyager’s new weapons and the prototype shuttle that Commander Chakotay stole should be an asset to you, as will the expertise of Admiral Janeway and Seven of Nine.  Commander Chakotay’s illegal actions may work in our favor, after all.”    

“Admiral, Commander Chakotay’s suspicions about the Br’nai have proven correct.  I hope you’ll take that into account when you consider whether or not to reprimand him.”

Nechayev bristled, but Riker didn’t regret the suggestion.  “I’ll take that under advisement, Captain, but the fate of the commander and the others will not rest solely in my hands.  You have your orders.  Nechayev out.”

Riker looked at his wife, their eyes full of fear.  A few Federation ships against the Borg?  The odds weren’t good.  And somehow, Nechayev’s suggestion that the Br’nai might be helping them didn’t make him feel any better.

When Kathryn Janeway awoke, she immediately felt safe, although it took her a moment to realize why.  Voyager.  She was on Voyager.  Home.  Strange how after seven years of trying to get off this ship, now, nothing felt more right than to be on it.  “Admiral,” she heard a familiar voice say.

“Doctor!”  Her voice felt raw in her throat and sounded hoarse to her own ears, but she managed a small smile.  “Report.”

“You lost consciousness shortly after Lieutenant Paris beamed you and the commander up to the Titan.  We are in a nebula a short distance from Br’nai, and the Titan is nearby.  Dr. Ogawa transferred you to my care seventeen hours ago.”

“Chakotay?”

“I released him a few hours ago.  He had three broken ribs and a number of minor injuries, but nothing too severe.  I told him to rest - instructions he has no doubt ignored.”  Janeway nodded and slowly sat up on the bed.  A short, grey haired woman with a round, kind face approached them.  “Admiral, this is Dr. Melissa Davidson, Voyager’s new chief medical officer.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Admiral Janeway,” said Davidson, clasping her hand.  “I’m sorry we have to meet under such difficult circumstances.”

“Thank you, Doctor.  I’m fine.”

The plump woman moved away from Janeway’s biobed, allowing the EMH to continue.  “Your injuries were severe, Admiral.  The commander informed me of your suspicions that the Br’nai were performing tests on you, and I concur with that assessment.  It’s a barbaric way of conducting scientific research, in my opinion - but they extracted samples of your spinal fluid and bone marrow.”  The Doctor’s tone softened as he continued, “They also seem to have done extensive experiments on your reproductive system and removed portions of your ovaries.”

Janeway nodded, the meaning of the Doctor’s words not reaching her.  “Is there any permanent damage?”

“Nothing that will affect your day to day activities, but...”  The Doctor paused, unsure how to continue.

“But?”

The EMH reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.  “Admiral - Kathryn - there’s no easy way to say this, but the Br’nai’s experiments have left you unable to conceive a child, permanently.  It appears that they have harvested your ova and left your body unable to produce more.”

Janeway stared at him for a moment, trying to comprehend his words, her mind reeling.  It had been a long time since she’d thought about having children.  When Voyager had been stranded in the Delta Quadrant, it hadn’t been an option.  She hadn’t been in a serious relationship since Mark, and she knew that her child-bearing years would soon end.  But she realized as the blow of the Doctor’s words hit her that there had been a part of her that had held out hope that perhaps someday she might have a child.  It took her a moment to regain her equilibrium and center her thoughts.  “Is there anything you can do?” she asked, her tone flat.

“I’d like to run some more tests.  I may be able to find a way to reverse the procedure.  I have been known to work miracles before...  But I have to be honest with you, Admiral.  It would take a miracle.”

“I see.  Thank you, Doctor.”

“I’m sure this must be quite a shock.  If you need anything...”

She shook her head.  “That will be all, Doctor.  I’d like to get to the bridge.”

“Admiral,” the Doctor protested, “you need to rest!  You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

“And the Federation could be on the brink of war with the Br’nai.  I’m needed on the bridge unless my leaving sickbay right now presents a serious risk to my health.”

With a sigh, the EMH shook his head.  “You’re free to go.”  He watched Janeway exit sickbay and frowned, the news he’d just had to deliver weighing on him heavily.  Why was life so unfair?

In the isolation of the turbolift, Kathryn swallowed hard, leaning up against the lift’s cool, sleek walls.  “Bridge,” she ordered.  Taking a deep breath, she stood and folded her hands neatly in front of her.  She forced herself to put aside what the Doctor had told her and closed it up in a neat little box in the back of her mind to be dealt with another time.  Later, she told herself.  There will be time to feel later.    

When the turbolift doors slid open, she stepped into familiar surroundings.  Although she had not set foot on Voyager in two years, she felt as though she had been here yesterday.  A strong sense of deja vu washed over her as she glanced at Tuvok and B’Elanna at their old stations, Paris at conn, Seven at ops and Chakotay standing in front of their two chairs.  “Admiral on the bridge,” Tuvok announced.

Paris turned around in his chair, grinning at her.  “It’s good to have you back, Admiral.”

“Thanks, Tom.  It’s good to be here.”  She felt Chakotay’s eyes on her as she walked to her chair, but she refused to meet them, not trusting herself to look at him.

“I’ve entrusted our guest to Megan Delaney,” he informed her.  “I’m sure she’ll make Mei feel at home.”

She nodded curtly, acknowledging his words and burying herself in her terminal.  “Hail the Titan,” she ordered.

“They are responding,” Tuvok replied.

“On screen.”

Will Riker’s face appeared.  Janeway had a vague recollection of seeing him on board the Titan, but she had barely been conscious at the time.  “Admiral, it’s good to see you up and about.”

“Thank you, Captain.  I appreciate the assistance you have given Tuvok and the rest of Voyager’s crew.”  

“Of course.  Any time.  Admiral, I have some bad news from Starfleet Command.”

Seven stepped forward from the ops station, interrupting Riker.  “It’s the Borg,” she realized, “isn’t it?”  Everyone on Voyager’s bridge whirled to look at her.

Riker’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Yes.  How did you know?”

“Seven?” Chakotay queried.

“I had a... vision... last night when I was regenerating.  I assumed that it was only a dream, but now I realize that it was a communication.”

“From the Borg?” asked Janeway.

Seven shook her head.  “From Axum.”

Janeway’s eyes widened.  “I didn’t realize that you were in touch.”

“We have not been for the past three years.  Since our encounter with Unimatrix Zero, I had had no contact with him until last night.”

“Unimatrix Zero?  Axum?” Riker asked.  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

“Captain, why don’t you join us aboard Voyager?” Janeway suggested.

Riker agreed, and a few minutes later, he and Deanna sat in Voyager’s briefing room with Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, Paris, Torres, Seven and Voyager’s EMH.      

“Unimatrix Zero was a virtual construct that allowed a group of Borg with a particular genetic mutation the capability to live as individuals while they were regenerating,” Seven explained.  “I was part of it when I was Borg.  Three years ago I was contacted by one of the drones in Unimatrix Zero, a man named Axum.  He requested our assistance in mounting a resistance against the Collective.  While our efforts resulted in the destruction of Unimatrix Zero, we also managed to introduce a nanovirus which severed the drones in Unimatrix Zero from the rest of the Collective.  If I understood Axum’s message correctly, the liberated drones have started a civil war amongst the Borg.”

“That would explain why we haven’t heard from them for the past two years,” said Tom.

“Indeed,” Tuvok agreed.

“I believe that the liberated drones are having difficulty defeating the Collective,” Seven continued, “and if the Collective assimilates Earth, the resistance will be lost.”

“Why can’t your friend Axum help us defend the Federation from the Collective?” Riker asked.

“I don’t know,” Seven admitted.  “Our link was terminated before I could obtain all the relevant data.”

“How was he able to contact you?” asked B’Elanna.  “I thought Unimatrix Zero was destroyed, and the interlink frequency along with it.”

“It was,” answered Seven.  “I do not know how Axum was able to initiate communication.  He must have found a way to access my interplexing beacon and communicate through my translink signature.  You yourselves did that once, when I was taken by the Borg Queen.”

Janeway nodded, studying Seven carefully.  Although the former drone spoke in a cold, impersonal tone, Janeway knew that her feelings about Axum ran deep and that communicating with him had affected her more than she was letting on.  “It seems clear that we must be prepared to defend ourselves with or without the help of the liberated drones,” the admiral observed.  “And based on my and Chakotay’s previous experience, I don’t think we can count on the Br’nai’s help, no matter what Ambassador V’tan tells Starfleet.”

“Agreed,” said Riker.  

“We’ll have to work together,” said Janeway.  “Tuvok, work with the Titan’s tactical officer to shore up our defenses.  Seven, B’Elanna, see if you can help the Titan’s engineering crew implement some of the weapons and defensive modifications that we have here.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Torres replied.          

“We don’t know when the Borg plan to attack.  Admiral Nechayev said that Neelix had heard rumors; that was all,” said Riker.

“We should be prepared as soon as possible,” Janeway replied.  “Dismissed.”  As everyone filed out of the briefing room, Janeway approached B’Elanna.  “How’s Miral doing?”    

“She’s doing great under the circumstances.  The Delaneys and a few other crewmen have been watching her when both Tom and I are on duty.  When this was just a routine test flight, I had no qualms about bringing her along, but now?  I didn’t expect to be taking her into battle.”

“We’ll keep her safe, B’Elanna,” Janeway reassured her, patting her shoulder.  

Torres nodded.  “I know you will.”  She paused.  “I don’t know a lot about what happened down on the planet, but Chakotay filled me in a little.  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  Thank you for asking.”  Torres nodded and left the briefing room.  Kathryn turned, expecting to find the room empty, but instead found herself looking into the brown eyes of Counselor Troi.  “Something I can do for you, Counselor?”

“Actually, Admiral, I wanted to know if you were all right.”

Janeway regarded Troi cooly for a moment, then remembered that the woman was half-Betazoid and an empath.  Of course she’d be able to sense the inner turmoil Kathryn was experiencing, no matter how deeply she buried it.  “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Troi asked.  “You’ve been through a lot these past couple weeks.”

“I’m fine,” Janeway insisted.  “I have work to do.”

“Do you always use your work to escape from the things that are really bothering you?”

Janeway knew she should have been offended by the question, but something about Troi’s manner of asking, as if she were merely curious and rather than making judgments, made it difficult for Kathryn to keep her guard up.  “Yes, I suppose I do,” she admitted.

Troi nodded slowly.  “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, Admiral, but might I make a suggestion?”

“Go ahead.”

“You’ve undergone a traumatic experience.  There’s obviously something about it that is still affecting you very deeply.  If you won’t talk to me about it, I’d suggest that you talk to someone - maybe a close friend or family member.  Talking about our feelings and experiences sometimes grants us insight and clarity that we didn’t know we needed.”

Janeway forced a smile.  “Thank you, Counselor.  I’ll keep that in mind.”

Deanna put out her hand to touch Janeway’s arm.  “I know that captains and admirals often have a hard time admitting their vulnerabilities.  I am married to one.”  Deanna gave the admiral a disarming smile, and Janeway couldn’t help but smile in return.  “But that’s what I’m here for.  I just want to make sure you know that.”

“Thank you, Counselor,” Janeway said, more sincerely this time.  “I really will consider your offer.  In the meantime, we have preparations to make.”

The Federation Council had assembled to discuss the potential Borg invasion.  The Federation still had no President, and as long as the Emergency Powers Rule remained in effect they could not elect one, so the Vulcan Sturik remained at the head of the council.  G’tok was in the midst of speaking, “The Klingons are prepared to send a fleet to combat the Borg threat.  We must engage them in battle.”

“I agree with Councilman G’tok,” said Councilwoman Jalay of Betazed.  “Starfleet must be sent to intercept the Borg as soon as possible.”  The crowd murmured, some in acceptance, others in fear.

“The chair recognizes Councilman Thelos of Andoria,” Sturik announced.

Thelos stood, feeling the anticipation in the room grow as he prepared to speak.  “I have heard many of you say that we must send Starfleet to protect the Federation, that we must engage the Borg as soon as possible, but I am here to offer you a better solution.  Starfleet must protect the Federation, yes, but the seat of the Federation is Earth.  Starfleet must protect us here.”

“And what of all the other worlds that the Borg would assimilate on their way to Earth?” someone shouted.  Other voices began to chime in, shouting their agreement or their dissent.

“Order!” Sturik commanded, banging his gavel.  “There will be order in the chamber.”

“With the chair’s permission, I have brought a guest to speak with us today - someone who is here to help us solve this very problem.”  Thelos looked at Sturik anxiously.

“You may introduce your guest,” said Sturik, “if no one objects.”  There was silence in the chamber.  No one objected.  Even those who disagreed with Thelos’ politics were curious.

Thelos drew himself up to his full height.  “I have the pleasure of welcoming to this chamber a man who has changed his own planet and its society in a very short time.  He is a visionary and a diplomat, and we are honored to have him here today.  If anyone can help us in this time of crisis, it is this man.  My fellow council members, it is my pleasure to introduce Ambassador V’tan of Br’nai.”

The ambassador emerged from the shadows in a corner of the room and walked in long, swift strides as he approached the podium.  He swept across the floor with a flourish of his cape and gave a slight bow of his head as he addressed the Federation’s governing body.  “Members of the Federation Council, thank you for agreeing to hear me.  I have tremendous respect for you and for the work that you do here, and I hope that someday Br’nai will join your great Federation.”  He paused, looking around the chamber, making eye contact with several council members as he did so.  “I am here to offer the assistance of the Br’nai in this battle against our terrible common enemy.  Over the last two hundred years, my people have devoted themselves to developing technology that will detect any potential threat.  We discovered a method of scanning for Borg transwarp apertures, and we know that there is an aperture near Br’nai.  Our most recent scans suggest that the Borg will pass through this aperture en route to Earth.

“When this occurs, we will not only defend ourselves, we will defend the Federation as well.  We will serve as your first line of defense against the Borg.  For years, my people developed their defensive technology in seclusion so that we would be prepared for any invader and any threat.  I always resented my people’s isolation, but now I see that it had a greater purpose.  It allowed us to develop technology that would affirm our alliance with the Federation.  My friends, allow the Br’nai to serve you, and you will have no regrets.”  V’tan gave another small bow of his head and stepped back, taking the seat next to Thelos.

Councilman G’tok was immediately on his feet.  “Why should we trust them to defend us after they lied about Admiral Janeway’s death?”

“We have no proof that they lied,” shot back Lilith Baines.

“Yes,” agreed Koresh-Inya, “we must wait for the official report to become available.  All we truly know is that Admiral Janeway is alive, a fact for which we are all grateful.”

“There are any number of explanations for Janeway’s disappearance,” Baines pointed out.  “Perhaps she is the one who did something illegal.  We can’t know until the facts are released.”

“Ambassador V’tan,” said Thelos, “can you address the Council’s questions regarding Admiral Janeway’s disappearance?”

V’tan stood and looked around the room gravely.  “I am not aware of all the facts surrounding this case at this time.  However, I can tell you that my people would never hurt a Federation citizen, especially one as well respected as Admiral Janeway.”  His words oozed with a mocking reverence.  “If we learn that one among my people was responsible for her disappearance, I can assure you they will be duly punished.”

“There!” Baines exclaimed triumphantly.  “My fellow council members, the Br’nai have given us no reason not to trust them, and are offering an extraordinary gesture of good faith.”  

“Besides, how can we trust Starfleet?” Thelos added, gesturing to the Starfleet emblem on the wall of the chamber.  “They couldn’t protect the President or find the criminals who bombed Paris.”

“Yes,” agreed Baines.  “Ambassador V’tan offers us this intelligence on Borg movements in good faith - all the more reason for us to trust the Br’nai.  If they wish to defend us, let them.  If they succeed, we all gain from it.  If they fail, Starfleet will be ready.”

“There is no honor in this plan,” G’tok shot back.

Sturik banged his gavel.  “There will be order in the chamber.  Councilman Thelos has the floor.”

“Thank you, Councilman Sturik.”  Thelos paused, looking back at V’tan for approval.  The Br’nai ambassador sat back in his chair, calmly surveying the chamber before him, no hint of emotion visible on his face.  He gave Thelos a small nod, and the Andorian turned back to the Council.  “I propose that we accept Ambassador V’tan’s offer for aide, and that we order the return of our fleet to the Federation border.”

“I thought that Admiral Janeway was dead and now I find out that M’hel has been holding her hostage?  And you didn’t think it was right to tell me?”  Ch’a’fen was incensed.  

“Fen, please, calm down.  M’hel acted without my knowledge.  I’ve already told him that he put the entire project at risk.  You know how independent he’s always been.”

“You have to control him, V’tan.  You’re the only one who can - you’ve always been the only person who could control M’hel.”

“I know.  I’ve told him he can’t do something like this again.”

“He’s made a fool out of me!  A Starfleet admiral was imprisoned right under my nose, and I didn’t know anything about it.  Captain Riker already suspects me of subterfuge.  I shudder to think what Admiral Janeway thinks of me.”

“Do you really care about what they think, Fen?  Surely the opinion of your own people is far more important to you than the ideas of strangers.”

“Yes, yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“Relax,” V’tan said reassuringly.  “I promise I’ll take care of everything on the political end from here.”

Ch’a’fen looked at his old friend through the monitor and sighed.  He instinctively felt that V’tan was right and had every confidence that he would make good on his promise.  Ch’a’fen knew that achieving their goals would never be as simple as it had seemed in their childhood fantasies.  “Tan,” he said, using his friend’s boyhood name, “do you remember what we used to talk about, you, me and Ky’len, back when we were young?”

At the mention of his wife’s name, V’tan’s eyes got a faraway look in them.  “Of course I do: a Br’nai that is finally recognized by other worlds, a galaxy that no longer ignores our greatness, a government that no longer stifles our growth.”

“Yes,” agreed Ch’a’fen, nodding excitedly, “but it wasn’t only that.  We talked of a galaxy that was peaceful and harmonious, and of our part in creating that harmony.  Do you remember that?”

“Fen, that’s exactly what I’m trying to achieve.”  

“By capturing Starfleet admirals?”

V’tan’s silver eyes grew cold.  “I am not responsible for M’hel’s dangerous experiments.  I’ve already told you he won’t do it again.  We have always known there would be a price to pay for the peace we desired.  Have you forgotten that?”

Ch’a’fen dropped his eyes, looking chagrined.  “Of course not.  I know you have paid a higher price than anyone, my friend, losing your beloved...”  He trailed off, seeing the intense pain flash across his friend’s face.

The pain lasted for a moment and then flickered out, as if V’tan had flipped a switch and turned off his emotions.  “We all have a price to pay, but in the end, we will see the glory of our efforts brought to fruition.”

Ch’a’fen sat back in his chair, running his hand through his curly, blonde hair.  “I hope so, my friend.  I hope so.”

“I’ve taken care of everything, Fen.  You’re about to get your chance to solidify your precious alliance with the Federation.  Starfleet will forget the incident with Janeway soon enough.”

The cunning smile on his friend’s face did not escape the emperor.  “What do you mean?”

“The Borg are coming, and Starfleet has recalled their ships to the Federation border.  We will serve as the first line of defense for the entire Federation.”

“You believe that we can hold back the Borg alone?”  

V’tan smiled.  “M’hel has designed a new weapon that will ensure our victory over any adversary.  Trust me, Fen.  This is our chance to prove our superiority once and for all.”  

“We can prove our trustworthiness,” Ch’a’fen agreed.  “This will be the perfect opportunity to solidify our alliance with the Federation.”  He paused.  “Are you sure this weapon is safe?”

“It’s been tested.  Don’t worry, I’ve looked into everything.”  The emperor shifted uneasily in his chair, and V’tan attempted to soothe him further.  “I know you don’t like the idea of M’hel developing new weapons, but how else will we protect ourselves?  Remember what happened at To’sri’la?  You wanted to keep our protests peaceful, but To’sri’la was the turning point in the resistance.  Some people can be convinced by reason, Fen, but others’ minds can only be changed by force.”

“I suppose you’re right, V’tan, as always.”

“I know I am.  You just have to trust me.”  

“I do.”

V’tan cut the transmission and sat back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him.  Ch’a’fen, in his innocence, would believe that their real goal was to defend the Federation from the Borg, but he had already set in motion another plan entirely - one that would eliminate the Federation and the obstacles it posed from his path.  Soon, ultimate control of the entire quadrant would be his.

The constancy of the red and purple nebula outside her window made Kathryn Janeway wish that the ship were in motion.  Although the Doctor had insisted that she rest, she hadn’t been able to sleep.  Now, she sat on the sofa wearing a silky pink nightgown and robe.  She closed her eyes, imagining that she was watching the stars streak by and listening to the comforting hum of Voyager’s warp drive.  She took herself back to the days of the Delta Quadrant, when her mission had been clear and the boundaries had been set, when she had been driven by a single goal and had never wondered about the future because the present had been all-consuming.  

She curled her legs up underneath her, and glanced around the guest quarters Tuvok had assigned to her.  Voyager’s rooms and configuration had remained essentially the same in the refit; only the personal touches were missing.  The room was a hollow representation of what had been her home.  Hollow... like she was.  She turned back to the nebula.   

The door chimed.  “Come in,” she called.  She knew by the sound of the footsteps who entered the room, but she didn’t turn to look at him. 

“I brought you the new crew assignments.”  If he was surprised to find her in her nightgown, he didn’t show it. 

“You can leave it on the desk,” she replied listlessly, still not turning away from the window.  He didn’t move, although she had intended her words to be a dismissal and he knew it.  Finally, she turned her head towards him, leaving her body angled toward the window.  “Was there something else, Commander?”

Chakotay took one step towards her.  “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she replied flatly.  “I’m fine.” 

Another step.  “You’ve been distant ever since you left sickbay this morning.  Are you sick?  Did M’hel’s experiments leave some kind of permanent damage?” 

She turned her body to face him, unfolding her legs from beneath her, and stood, pulling her robe tighter around her body.  “I’m fine, Chakotay.”

“Damn it, Kathryn, I know you better than that!”  He took another step towards her and lifted her chin with his index finger, forcing her to meet his eyes.  “What’s wrong?” he asked again, more gently this time.  Her lips pursed together and her jaw clenched as she cocked her head to one side.  He watched as she battled her emotions, and compassion instantly replaced his frustration with her.  He took her gently by the shoulders and sat her down on the couch, then went over to the replicator.  “Computer, two cups of cinnamon tea.”  He handed her a steaming mug and sat down beside her on the sofa.  She had pulled her feet up under herself again, and the combination of her position and the soft, pink silk of her robe made her look very vulnerable and very beautiful.  Unable to resist the temptation, Chakotay reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.  She flinched at his touch as if it burned her, and trepidation filled him.  “Tell me,” he insisted. 

Kathryn let the tea warm her hands as she inhaled its spicy aroma.  She held the mug against her chest and felt the steam from the hot liquid rise up under her chin.  Her eyes roamed the room, resting on the chair, on the door to her bedroom, anywhere that allowed her to avoid Chakotay’s gaze.  She didn’t know what to say.  When she finally spoke, she changed the subject.  “What was it you wanted to tell me on Br’nai, in the prison?” 

The question took Chakotay aback, and he stumbled over his words as he searched for an answer.  “I guess I was hoping we could continue the conversation we started in Paris.”   

She hesitated, looking down into her tea.  “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Chakotay’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.  After everything they had been through on Br’nai, after everything they had been through for the last nine years, she was shutting him out again?  He wasn’t going to let her to do it this time.  “Why not?” 

Kathryn put her tea down and reached out to place one hand on his knee.  “Chakotay, I want what’s best for you.  I hope you know that.” 

He looked at her with a puzzled expression; she seemed to be changing the direction of the conversation with every sentence, and he couldn’t follow her train of thought.  “I want what’s best for you, too.” 

“Good,” she replied, patting his knee.  “Then we’re agreed.” 

Chakotay set his own mug down and leaned forward, peering at her intently.  “Agreed on what?”   

“Agreed that we don’t need to continue the conversation we started in Paris.” 

If he hadn’t been so frustrated, Chakotay would have laughed.  “I don’t recall agreeing to that,” he said with a bemused smile.  Then he studied her face, realizing that she was serious.  “Kathryn, what is going on here?  If you have something to say, just say it.” 

She stood, walking away from the couch, putting some distance between them.  Shades of purple and red swirled in the nebula before her, clouds of blood running slowly across the sky.  “Chakotay, do you want to have children of your own someday?” 

The question caught him completely off guard, and for a moment he just sat there, staring at her back, trying to understand the reason for her question.  When he answered, his voice was gentle, bearing none of the exasperation he had shown a few moments before.  “I’ve always thought that I would be a father.  So, I guess, yes, I would like to have to children someday.”  He paused, unsure what response she wanted from him, so he asked the next question that came to mind.  “What about you?”

“I used to think that I’d have children,” she said, her gaze focused on the nebula.  “When I was much younger, I thought that Justin and I would.  When Mark and I got engaged, I thought he and I might have a child together someday, when my career wasn’t so demanding.  But Voyager was stranded in the Delta Quadrant and Mark moved on.  As long as we were out there, I knew that having a child wasn’t an option, and when we got home, I had gotten so used to thinking that way that it became a habit.  Besides, it wasn’t like I was in a serious relationship...”  She met his eyes for a moment, allowing herself a halfhearted smile.  “But I think, somewhere in the back of my mind, I always held onto the possibility.  I started to think, after Paris, that maybe things could be different, that maybe we...”  She trailed off again.  Chakotay’s heart was pounding as he tried to decipher the significance of her words, but as he tried to puzzle out her real meaning, he saw the mask of control slip over her face, and her soul was closed to him.  “But it doesn’t really matter what I thought.  I want what’s best for you, Chakotay.  I want you to be able to have the life you want and the life you deserve, and I’ll...”  Her voice faltered.  “I’ll never be able to give that to you.  So it’s best that we forget everything that happened in Paris.”

Chakotay went to her, picked up one of her hands and pulled it to his chest, enclosing it in both of his.  “Kathryn,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “the evening we spent together in Paris was one of the most magical nights of my life.  I don’t ever want to forget it.  There hasn’t been a single day since then that I haven’t thought about that night and how I wish it had ended.”  He began to lower his lips closer to hers, but she pulled away violently, yanking her hand from his. 

“No!” she exclaimed, turning away from him, wrapping her arms around her own body. 

Chakotay stood right behind her, not touching her.  “Kathryn, I thought that we were on the same page here, but if you’re not interested in pursuing something, just say so.”

“It’s not that, Chakotay.  It’s...”

“It’s what?” he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

She fought back her emotions, forcing her voice to remain controlled.  “Remember when you got the letter from Sveta telling you the Maquis had all been killed?”

“Yes.”  He tried to understand the connection.  

“Remember how hard it was for you to accept it?”

“I do.”  His hands tightened on her shoulders.  “Did you learn something terrible, Kathryn?  Something you can’t accept?”

She took a deep breath.  Spit it out, Kathryn, she told herself.  Another breath.  She was trembling.  It was as if saying it to him would make it truly real, final, absolute.  And she didn’t want it to be.  God, she didn’t want it to be.  That knowledge suddenly came crashing down on her, and her body shook.  She felt the tightening of Chakotay’s hands on her shoulders.  “The Doctor told me today that because of the experiments the Br’nai performed on me, I will never be able to have children.”  There.  She had said it.  She had spoken with clinical detachment, and she felt strangely empty.  It took her a moment to realize that Chakotay had not responded.  “So,” she continued, “you see why it would be best not to continue the conversation we started in Paris.”

She was shocked when, a moment later, she felt Chakotay’s strong arms encircle her waist, pulling her body against his.  “Oh god,” he whispered, “Kathryn, are you all right?”

His simple question shot straight to her heart, and her carefully constructed barriers dissolved.  Her body convulsed with a sob, her shoulders hunched, and her hands grasped Chakotay’s arms as she doubled over.  His arms supported her as gut-wrenching sobs wracked her body.  Disengaging the iron clad grip of her fingers on his forearms, he managed to turn her around to face him, burying her head in his shoulder.  As she shook with the force of her cries, he held her to him, whispering, “Shhh, Kathryn.  Shhh.  It’s all right to cry.”  As one arm held her to him and supported her weight, his other hand stroked her hair.  Her grip had moved from his arms to his shoulders, which she held onto as if she were drowning, her fingernails digging into his skin.  He let her cry for a long time, and she clutched him as if holding on for dear life.  

When her sobs finally subsided, he led her back to the couch and sat down beside her.  “A little better?” he asked.

She nodded weakly, her eyes red and puffy, and he brought her a glass of water from the replicator before sitting down beside her again.  “Thank you.”

He gave her one of his trademark smiles.  “Any time.”

She placed her palm on his chest.  “I’m afraid I got your shirt all wet.”

“I think I’ll survive,” he replied with a wink, extending an arm around her and allowing her to nestle herself against his shoulder.  He tightened his arm around her and said, “We still have some unfinished conversations, Kathryn.  I’m not giving up, and I’m not just going to let you go.”  He paused and placed a kiss in her hair.  “So consider yourself forewarned.  I told you nine years ago that I had more Maquis tricks up my sleeve.  Well, I think there are still some you haven’t seen.”

“Watch out, Commander,” she replied sleepily.  “You might just earn yourself another court martial.”

He chuckled softly and moved his free hand across his body to caress her cheek.  After only a few moments, she had fallen fast asleep.  When he was certain he wouldn’t wake her, Chakotay bent over and picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom.  The silk of her robe was slippery and sensual against his skin, and she stirred but did not wake as he laid her in the bed.  He pulled the covers over her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, about to leave the room.  But he found himself unable to leave her alone in this vulnerable state.  He kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed, lying on top of the blankets beside her.  Tucking the covers securely under her chin, Chakotay wrapped his arm around her protectively, spooning her against him.  He felt her steady breathing and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.  “Computer, lights off,” he ordered, and in no time, he, too, had fallen into a deep sleep.

Something smelled musky, and the scent was instinctively comforting.  Kathryn burrowed into the warmth that surrounded her, inhaling the somehow familiar smell.  Then the events of the previous day and night came rushing back to her and her eyes snapped open.  She realized that she was in bed - Chakotay must have carried her - and that the comforting smell was him.  His body was wrapped around hers protectively, although he had slept on top of the covers and remained fully dressed.  Kathryn felt no more certain about anything than she had the night before, but for one more moment, she allowed herself to cherish the safety of her friend’s embrace, his solid chest against her back.  

Then she wriggled out of Chakotay’s grasp, removing his arm from her waist carefully, trying not to wake him.  He looked peaceful, far more peaceful than she felt.  He mumbled in his sleep and gathered the blankets closer to him, as if they were her body.  She slipped into the bathroom and ran the sonic shower.  When she emerged from the shower, she caught sight of her face in the mirror and saw that her eyes were still red and swollen, with dark shadows underneath them.  She dressed in her uniform and put on some makeup.  As she walked back into the bedroom, her comm activated.  “Riker to Janeway.”

She hurried out of the bedroom where Chakotay was still sleeping.  “Janeway here,” she replied, tapping her badge.  

“Will you activate your visual link, Admiral?  I think we need to talk.”

Janeway sat down at the desk, and a moment later, Will Riker’s face appeared.  He looked troubled.  “What is it, Captain?”

“I just received a priority message from Starfleet Command.  They’ve rescinded our earlier orders and want us to return to Earth as soon as possible.”

“Has Starfleet received new information about the Borg?” Janeway asked, running her thumb and index finger back and forth across her forehead.

“No,” Riker replied with a grimace.  “But my orders are to escort your ‘renegade’ crew back to Earth as soon as possible.  Not only that, but the rest of the fleet is being recalled to the Federation border.”

“Voyager and the Titan are the most powerful ships in range of the Borg attack.  What does Starfleet plan to use as its first line of defense?”

Riker’s brow creased.  “The Br’nai.”

“What?”  Riker nodded.  She put her chin in her hand, her index finger crossing her lips as she pondered the situation.  “Perhaps if I talk to Starfleet Command,” she suggested.  

“You can try, but I doubt it will make any difference.  The orders come directly from the Federation Council.  We need to meet, Admiral, as soon as possible.”

Janeway heard a sound and looked up to see Chakotay standing in the doorway of the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe.  “Let’s reconvene at 0900 to discuss our strategy,” she told Riker.

“Your briefing room or ours?” Riker asked with a small grin.

“Ours will be fine, Captain.  Janeway out.”  She cut the communication and looked up at Chakotay.  “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.”

“I don’t know what the admiralty is thinking, Chakotay.  Why are they trusting the Br’nai to protect the Federation after your suspicions were proven right?  Ordering Voyager and the Titan to return to Earth doesn’t make any sense.”

“Something is wrong at Starfleet Command.  That much I’m sure of.  Those men watching my apartment, their refusal to investigate your disappearance further - those orders had to come from high up in the command structure.”

Kathryn frowned.  “From who?”  Chakotay shrugged.  “And more importantly, why?”

“I don’t know.”  He walked over to her and perched on the edge of her desk.

“I’m not sure I can obey these orders, Chakotay.”

He grinned at her.  “Well, the way I see it, I’m already a renegade.  Disobeying one more order won’t make much of a difference.”  She groaned and buried her face in her hands.  “Hey,” he said gently, reaching out and touching her shoulder, “how about some breakfast before the meeting?  I’ll cook.”

She raised her head from her hands and offered him a wan smile.  “Sure.  But you’d better change your clothes.  People might start to wonder if they see you in the same thing you were wearing yesterday.”  Chakotay chuckled.  He knew that their conversation from the previous night was far from finished, but it was good to see Kathryn acting more like herself.  There was nothing like a crisis to get her moving again... and a crisis was certainly what they were about to face.

Chapter Text

12

Discoveries

“Immediate necessity makes many things convenient, which if continued would grow into oppressions.  Expedience and right are different things.”
    -Thomas Paine, Common Sense

“Kathryn, we were so relieved to discover that you were alive.”  

“Thank you.  I take it you’ve read my report?”  Janeway sat in Voyager’s ready room, speaking to Owen Paris via subspace.

“Of course.  We all read it.  What was done to you was terrible.  I’m so sorry.”

Janeway forced her expression to remain neutral.  “What legal action will be taken against the Br’nai?”

Paris grimaced.  “That might be difficult.”

“What do you mean?”

“Admiral Nechayev, Admiral Ross and I met with Ambassador V’tan today.  He’s expressed his deepest condolences about what happened to you, but he explained that this doctor - what’s his name?”

“M’hel.”  She couldn’t conceal her disgust as she spoke the Br’nai doctor’s name.

“The ambassador informed us that Doctor M’hel was acting completely on his own.  Apparently, the man’s never really known where to draw the line as far as his research is concerned.  Ambassador V’tan assured us that the doctor will be imprisoned immediately, and his underground lab will be confiscated by the Br’nai government.”

“I have a hard time believing that M’hel was acting alone.  He had extensive resources in his laboratory.  Where would he have gotten access to all his equipment and personnel without the support of the emperor or some other high official?”

“I asked the same question.  Apparently, the doctor has been skimming it off the top of what the government gives to the Foundation for its research and development projects.”

Janeway sat back in her chair, her mind racing.  It seemed incredibly unlikely to her that M’hel had really acted on his own, but it was possible that the ambassador really didn’t know what was going on.   “I don’t like it, Owen.”

“I can’t say I like it much myself, but we have to respect the Br’nai’s right to handle their own people.”

“I understand.  What about our orders to return to Earth in the face of a Borg threat?”

“That comes directly from the Federation Council.  I don’t like it any more than you do, and after this incident, I understand why you don’t trust the Br’nai to defend us.  Honestly, I don’t, either.  But the Council believes we’ll be safer if the fleet retreats to the Federation border and holds the line here.”

“I know I was in the Delta Quadrant for a long time, but I don’t remember the Federation Council interfering in decisions like this before.”

Paris’ face wrinkled in consternation.  “You’re right, I suppose.  I hadn’t thought about it that way.  The Council does seem to be passing more and more resolutions these days, ever since they invoked the Emergency Powers Rule.  It’s an Andorian councilman who’s behind most of these new proposals.  He seems to be quite cozy with Ambassador V’tan, from what I’ve heard.”

“Wait.  The Andorian councilman who asked that the fleet be held at the Federation border is also in bed with the Br’nai?  Doesn’t that strike you as more than just a coincidence?”

“We have no proof of any foul play.”

“I could show you some proof,” she grated, her lips drawing together in a tight, thin line.  “What they did to me...”  

“Kathryn,” Owen said in a fatherly tone, “Ambassador V’tan has assured us that Dr. M’hel will be severely punished.”

“I don’t trust Ambassador V’tan.”

“I’m sorry.  That’s the best we can do.”  Paris paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts and glancing at a PADD on his desk.  “When can we expect you?”

“Well,” Janeway said slowly, “we have some repairs to do... but we’ll return to Earth as soon as possible.”

Paris looked at her for a moment, wondering if he had imagined the glint in her eye as she spoke.  Something about her tone told him that he didn’t really want to know.  “There’s one more matter that I’d like to discuss with you.”

“The illegal actions of Chakotay and the others,” she guessed.

“Yes.”

“Admiral, I think that in light of the fact that they saved my life, they should be fully pardoned.”

“I agree with you,” Paris admitted, “but others don’t feel the same.  Ever since suspicions were raised about Maquis involvement in the Paris bombings, public sentiment against men like Chakotay and Michael Ayala has become almost as negative as it was during the war.  And with a new Borg threat emerging, Seven of Nine is likely to be viewed with suspicion as well.”

Janeway gritted her teeth.  She had worked hard upon Voyager’s return to ensure that the Maquis, Seven and the EMH had been granted their freedom and full rights as individuals, and she refused to let that work to go to waste now.  “Starfleet officers in the past have done far worse to save others and have been exonerated for it.  Kirk did it multiple times.”

“That was a different time.”  Owen paused.  “Look, Kathryn, I agree with you.  And I’m not the only one.  Perhaps we can sway the others in our favor.  Best case scenario, they end up with a formal reprimand, perhaps a brief suspension of duty or a demotion.”  Another pause.  “Worst case scenario, prison time.”

Janeway leaned forward.  “I will not allow that to happen.  They put their lives on the line to save mine because Starfleet wouldn’t.  To punish them for that would be wrong.”

“Perhaps.  But it’s not only up to you and me.  You’ll probably be taken out of the decision making process entirely.  Admiral or not, you’ll be seen as biased.”

“I won’t let them take the fall for this, Owen.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.”  Paris glanced to one side.  “Kathryn, I have another meeting.  As I said, I’m relieved you’re alive.  We all are.  Admiral Patterson sends his regards especially.  We’ll be in touch.  Paris out.”

Janeway sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest as the Starfleet emblem appeared on the screen in front of her.  The idea of the Federation Council giving Starfleet orders troubled her.  The council members were politicians; they didn’t understand how Starfleet worked or what the best course of action would be.  It was maddening enough to get orders from admirals who did nothing but sit behind a desk all day, but to be directed by politicians?  It didn’t make any sense.  She thought back to what Paris had told her.  An Andorian councilman...  What did the Andorians and the Br’nai have in common?  She had just moved forward in her chair to access her computer terminal when the door chimed.  “Come in.”  She looked up to find Tuvok standing in the doorway, and she smiled.  “Tuvok, I’m glad to see you.”  She stood and rounded the desk to sit on the sofa.  “Would you join me for a cup of coffee?”

“Tea, please.”  He sat beside her on the sofa as she ordered their drinks from the replicator.  “May I infer from your gratitude at my presence that you are in need of my counsel?”

Janeway sat down beside him with a rueful smile, handing him his tea and cradling her own mug in her hands.  As she steadied herself with Tuvok’s calm presence, the contents of her conversation with Admiral Paris spilled out of her.  “This is not the Starfleet I remember, Tuvok.”

“Change is inevitable in long-lasting organizations.”

“I know that.  But sometimes change is welcome and sometimes it isn’t.”

“You do not welcome these changes?”

She shook her head.  “The Federation Council has always had authority over Starfleet, but in the past, they’ve allowed us to operate independently, and I think we’ve been very successful.  The more influence the Council gains over our operations, the more I worry.”

“You believe that the Council will not use their new power wisely.”

“Exactly.”

Tuvok took a sip of his tea.  “I see the logic behind your concerns; however, it is not a productive use of your time to worry about something over which you have no control.”  Janeway sighed and nodded, her expression self-deprecating.  “However, you may be able to have an impact on one of your concerns.”

“Oh?”

“In addition to recent actions by the Federation Council, you are concerned by the negative attitude that has developed toward the Maquis, and the impact that attitude will have on Commander Chakotay and the others who helped rescue you.”  Janeway nodded; Tuvok had an uncanny ability to understand her deepest thoughts simply by observing her.  “I am still captain of this vessel, and our orders are to test the vessel’s capabilities.  If Starfleet wishes Voyager to be battle-ready, we must test its systems more extensively before we return to Earth.”

A small smile began to creep up the corners of Janeway’s mouth.  “What do you suggest, Tuvok?”

“When Commander Chakotay and I began to investigate your disappearance, I did my own analysis of the Paris bombings.”

“You thought the events were related?”

“I did not know.  It seemed plausible.”  Tuvok paused as she considered this possibility for the first time.  “Commander Chakotay learned that the ship carrying the Maquis who were accused of the bombing was destroyed a short distance from Deep Space Nine.  To my knowledge, no one has investigated this explosion further.  I believe a trip to Deep Space Nine would be warranted.”

The smile that had begun in the corners of Janeway’s mouth had now become a full-fledged grin.  “Do it.”

The senior staffs from Voyager and the Titan crammed into Voyager’s briefing room.  Everyone was murmuring quietly, wondering what was about to take place.  Admiral Janeway cleared her throat and the low hum of conversation ceased when she informed everyone of the change in orders from Starfleet Command.

“That’s crazy!” Tom Paris blurted out.  “They expect us to trust the Br’nai to protect the Federation from the Borg?”

“Mr. Paris,” Janeway warned.  Tom closed his mouth, but Kathryn could see the fire blazing in his eyes.  She turned to Tuvok, and he explained their plan of action.  As Voyager’s acting captain spoke, Janeway could see the expressions on the faces around her begin to brighten.  Tom stopped scowling, B’Elanna looked interested, and Chakotay made no effort to hide his grin.

“Well,” Riker said when Tuvok was done, “I guess the Titan won’t be heading back to Earth right away either.”

“Why is that, sir?” asked Lieutenant Rand.

“We have to repair our forward sensor array after those Br’nai ships attacked us.  We won’t be able to, um, complete our mission without it.”  Riker’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, and everyone in the briefing room seemed to catch on.  Lieutenant Rand was the last one, looking confused for a moment longer before understanding finally dawned.  Riker met Janeway’s eyes.  “While Voyager heads to Deep Space Nine, we’ll be running constant sensor sweeps, keeping an eye out for Borg activity.”

“Good,” said Janeway.  “Dismissed.”  As everyone filed out of the briefing room, Janeway caught Seven’s eye and motioned for her to stay behind.  When they were alone, she said, “Chakotay told me about the Hugh’s multi-adaptive shields.”

Seven bristled.  “Starfleet wanted a shuttle that could evade the Borg.  I could not comply with that request and abide by the Treaty of Algernon.”

Janeway held a hand up.  “I’m not going to punish you, Seven.  In fact, I think we can use your prototype shuttle to our advantage.  I want you and the Doctor to stay here and keep an eye on the Br’nai.  You should be able to remain in orbit and avoid detection.  Starfleet may trust them, but I don’t.  You’re to report any unusual activity directly to me.”

“Understood.”  Seven turned to leave.

“And Seven?”  The blonde whirled back around.  “Let’s keep this one out of the log books, okay?  Something tells me we’re going to be in enough trouble as it is.”

Even after all his experience with them, the name ‘Borg’ still struck fear into Captain Jean-Luc Picard’s heart.  The news of their impending attack was unsettling, but even more unsettling was the fact that he had been ordered to complete his mission and deliver the anti-cloaking technology from the Br’nai to Earth rather than prepare to engage the Borg.  Sitting in his ready room, Picard was pondering his next move when the door chimed.  “Come.”  Geordi entered, PADD in hand.  

“Captain, I finally realized where I had seen that Br’nai metal before.”

“Where?”

Geordi handed the PADD to the captain.  “In an analysis of the Paris bombings.”

Picard sat up straight in his chair as he looked at Geordi’s findings.  “Have you ever seen this metal anywhere else?”

Geordi shook his head.  “No, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. LaForge.  I’ll report this to Starfleet.  You’re dismissed.”  Geordi left the ready room, and Picard lifted his finger to place a call to Admiral Nechayev.  Perhaps there was another explanation, but given what had happened to Admiral Janeway, it certainly seemed plausible that the Br’nai had had some involvement in the bombings.

Before Picard could place the call, Harry Kim’s voice came over the comm.  “Bridge to the captain.  You have an incoming transmission, sir, on a secure channel.”

“Put it through to my ready room.”  Picard activated the view screen on his terminal, and a moment later, Will Riker’s face appeared.  “Will,” he greeted his former first officer with a smile.

“Jean-Luc, we have to talk.”

Picard’s smile disappeared when he saw the worried look on Riker’s face.  “What’s wrong?”

Riker filled Picard in on recent events and told him of the strange presence Deanna had sensed on Br’nai.  “My orders are to return to Earth with Commander Chakotay and the others, and leave the Br’nai as our first line of defense against the Borg, but we’ve been delayed.  I’ve informed Starfleet that our forward sensor array was damaged by the Br’nai, and we won’t be able to head back to Earth until we’ve repaired it.”

Picard did not miss the glimmer in Riker’s eye.  “I understand.  This isn’t right, Will.  Starfleet hasn’t thought this through.  Geordi just found evidence that the Br’nai may have been involved in the Paris bombings.”

“What?”

Picard nodded, his mind racing.  If the Br’nai technology he carried truly was essential to the safety of the Federation, he couldn’t risk turning his ship around.  On the other hand, if the Br’nai had been responsible for the Paris bombings, the technology he carried could be a ruse designed to make sure the Federation flagship was nowhere near the defense perimeter when the Federation was attacked.  He didn’t trust the Br’nai to protect the Federation any more than Riker did, and the idea of leaving only the Titan and Voyager to engage the Borg left a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He looked up at Riker.  “The Enterprise will be there as soon as we can, Will, and in the meantime, I’m going to call in some favors.”

“Thank you, Captain.  Riker out.”

With a small tug on his jacket, Picard stood and strode onto the bridge.  “Helm,” he ordered as he took the command chair, “lay in a course, heading one eight seven mark five.”  

“Course plotted and laid in, sir.”

“Engage.”  Picard tapped his communicator.  “Picard to LaForge.”

“LaForge here, Captain.”

“Geordi, I’d like you to take a closer look at the technology we got from the Br’nai.  Look for any inconsistencies, incompatibilities with our systems - anything that seems out of place.”

“I’ll get right on it, sir.”

Picard turned to his operations officer.  “Mr. Kim, send a transmission to Qo’noS.  I need to speak with Ambassador Worf.”

The girl’s quarters were dark when Kathryn entered.  “Mei,” she called, “are you here?”

Timidly, the girl poked her head out of the bedroom.  “Yes, Kath-ryn.”  She spoke haltingly, the word still foreign on her tongue.

“Are you all right, Mei?  Have you had enough food?  Do you have everything you need?”

Mei bowed in the traditional Br’nai manner.  “Yes, thank you, Kath-ryn.  Master Cha-ko-tay and Master Tom have been very kind to me.”  The girl looked up at Janeway with a shy grin, and, not for the first time, Janeway wondered how old she was.  She couldn’t be much more than a teenager.  “I have not had so much food since...”  She paused.  “I don’t think I have ever had three whole meals a day!”  The girl beamed with gratitude, and Janeway’s heart went out to her.  She couldn’t imagine how bad the circumstances must have been in Mei’s village for her to take a job in M’hel’s facility.  How could the Federation have formed an alliance with people that treated their citizens so badly?

“Mei, no one here is your master.  You may call them Chakotay and Tom, and you may call me just Kathryn.  All right?”

“All right.”

Janeway sighed, wishing Neelix were here.  He’d know exactly how to handle this situation and would be an expert at taking Mei under his wing.  Instead, she’d been left alone in her quarters most of the time, with a few daily visits from Chakotay and Tom.  But now, Janeway was here with a job for the young woman.  “Mei, do you have any experience taking care of children?”

The girl’s face lit up.  “When I was younger, before I worked for Dr. M’hel, I took care of my younger cousins all the time.”

“Tom and his wife, B’Elanna, have their daughter, Miral, with them on the ship.  They need someone to take care of her while they are working.  Do you think you could do that?”  Mei nodded vigorously.  “Good.  B’Elanna will bring her to you.  She’ll give you the instructions you need.”

“I will be glad to have a task,” Mei replied.  “I wish to repay all you have done for me.”  

“You don’t owe us anything, Mei.  You saved our lives; we are the ones who are in debt to you.”  Janeway regarded the girl for a moment before continuing.  “There’s one more thing you need to know.  This ship may soon be in the middle of a very dangerous battle.  You will need to keep Miral calm and remain calm yourself, even if strange things are happening all around you.  Can you do that, Mei?”

The Br’nai girl nodded again.  “Yes.  I can do that.”

“Bridge to Janeway,” Tuvok’s voice came over the comm.

“Janeway here.”

“We’re coming up on Deep Space Nine, Admiral.”

“On my way.”  Janeway put a hand on Mei’s shoulder.  “Will you be all right?”

“I will be all right, Kath-ryn.  Thank you.”

Janeway smiled; Mei was going to be just fine.  She turned on her heel and headed for the bridge.

As Voyager was cleared for docking, Janeway exchanged a glance with Chakotay.  He had not been with her on the day of Voyager’s launch, but he realized that this must be a strange moment for her, docking Voyager at Deep Space Nine, where their journey had commenced so many years before.  “Full circle,” she murmured quietly, so that only he could hear.  He resisted the urge to reach out and take her hand, turning his eyes straight ahead, watching the station grow larger on the view screen.

“Docking clamps engaged,” Paris reported as a small jolt rocked the ship.

“Well done, Mr. Paris.  Tuvok, Chakotay, you’re with me.  Tom, you have the bridge.”  Paris stood to take the command chair as Ayala quickly replaced him at conn.  

As Tuvok, Chakotay and the admiral emerged into the station, they were met by a Bajoran woman with short hair and a stern expression on her face.  “Admiral Janeway,” she said, her severity melting into a smile, “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“I didn’t expect to be back so soon.  This is Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok.”

Kira shook both their hands.  “What can I do for you, Admiral?  I was told we’d be on our own if the Borg attack.”

“We’re making a little detour on our way back to the Federation border,” Janeway replied, exchanging a glance with Chakotay.  “Right after the Paris bombings, you detected an explosion near the station.  We need to see your sensor logs from that day.”

“May I ask why you’re so interested?”  Kira watched as Janeway and Chakotay exchanged another glance.  

“Let’s just say we’re not convinced that Starfleet has investigated the incident as thoroughly as they should have,” Chakotay replied diplomatically.

“I see.  You should know that our sensor readings were inconclusive.  I know the official story was that the explosion was accidental.  We were never able to confirm or deny that.  If the ship was attacked, it was with technology we’ve never seen before.”  

“Do you have reason to believe the ship was attacked?” Janeway asked.

“Not necessarily,” Kira replied.  “We haven’t been able to find any cause for the explosion whatsoever.”  She gestured to them with one hand.  “Follow me.”  Chakotay fell into step beside her and Janeway and Tuvok followed.  “You were in the Maquis, weren’t you?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Might I point out, Commander, that you seem to have revived your Maquis tactics of late?” suggested Tuvok.

Chakotay let out a small chuckle.  “Point taken, Tuvok.”  He turned back to Kira.  “You were on the station during the war?”

She nodded.  “Eleven years.  Since Captain Sisko went missing in action almost five years ago, Starfleet has sent me two possible replacements.  Neither of them lasted, so here I am.”  She threw up her hands.  

Chakotay had the distinct impression that she preferred it this way and that there weren’t many Starfleet officers she’d accept after Sisko.  “I never had the pleasure of meeting Captain Sisko.  He must have been a very special man.”

“He was,” Kira said softly.  

“I’m sorry,” replied Chakotay.

“Don’t be.  Captain Sisko did what he had to do.  Besides,” she continued with an enigmatic smile, “I still think he’ll be back someday.”

They entered the promenade, and Chakotay winked back at Kathryn as he remembered their chance encounter there.  This station seemed to enter their lives at fateful moments - Voyager’s launch, the moment that had reestablished their connection, and now.  Kira led them past the promenade to the central core of the station.  She called to one of the officers who was busy at his station.  “Nog!”

A Ferengi turned around, noticing Kira and the three visitors.  “Yes, Major.  What can I do for you?”

“This is Admiral Janeway, Commander Chakotay and Commander Tuvok.  They’re here to look at our sensor logs from the day of that explosion.  Help them with whatever they need, okay?”

“My pleasure,” Nog said with a gallant smile.  He extended his hand to Janeway.  “Admiral Janeway, it’s truly an honor to meet you.  I’ve heard so much about you, and Voyager.”

“Lieutenant,” Kira reminded him, “I didn’t call you over here to gossip.”

“Sorry, Major.”

Nerys gave the Ferengi lieutenant a bemused look.  “I’ll be at my station if you need me.”

“Yes, Major,” Nog said.  Then he turned to the console in front of him and pressed several buttons.  “Here are the sensor logs from the day in question, Admiral.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” said Janeway.  “That’s all we need right now.”  

“I’ll be right here if you need me, Admiral.”  Nog stepped off to the side as the three officers from Voyager began the tedious task of reviewing the logs nanosecond by nanosecond.  

They had spent over an hour looking at the data frame by frame, and Chakotay’s eyes were beginning to glaze over when something caught his attention.  He bolted upright in his chair and looked again to make sure he had not been mistaken.  “Kathryn,” he said excitedly, “look at this.”  She stepped quickly to his side.  “What do you see?”

“It looks like a residual ion trail,” she said slowly, but even as she spoke, she noticed something else.  She pointed to a distortion in the trail.  “What’s that?”

“I think it’s a transmission.”  Chakotay glanced over at the Vulcan, still working at another console.  “Tuvok, can you isolate this data stream?  I’m sending it to your station.”

“I will endeavor to do so, Commander.”  As Tuvok began to work at segregating the data, Chakotay watched over his shoulder.

“Something about that bandwidth seems familiar,” Chakotay mused under his breath as he watched Tuvok untangle the complicated sensor readings.

“The signal is somewhat degraded,” the Vulcan reported, “but I believe you are correct, Commander.  It is a message, but not an audio communication.  It is a visual transmission.”

“Let’s see it, Tuvok,” said Janeway, who had joined Chakotay behind Tuvok’s station.  She didn’t know what she expected to see on the screen, but she had expected it to be recognizable.  Instead, the symbols that appeared in front of her might as well have been gibberish.  Tuvok seemed equally confused.  Beside her, she heard Chakotay inhale sharply, and when she looked up at him, his face was white.  “Chakotay, what is it?” she asked, touching his arm.

He stared at the screen for a moment longer before he blinked and looked down at her.  “I know those symbols.  We used them in the Maquis.”

“What do they mean?”

Chakotay reached over Tuvok and pointed at the screen.  “Attack.  Unknown assailant.  Secret message.  Bajoran.”  Chakotay’s arm fell back to his side as he stared at the symbols.

“What does that mean?” Janeway asked, gesturing to the final character in the sequence.

“That’s Sveta’s signature.  She was the one who sent this message.”

From behind them, they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and they whirled around to see Lieutenant Nog.  “Maybe there’s some relation to the Bajoran body that was found on the station around the time of the explosion.”

“A Bajoran body?” Chakotay asked.

Nog nodded.  “I don’t know the specifics.  Let me get Major Kira for you.”

A few moments later, Kira appeared and confirmed Nog’s story.  “A few days before that explosion occurred, an Bajoran body turned up on the station.  A male.  We haven’t been able to identify him.  It didn’t occur to me until now that the two events might be connected somehow.”

“A Bajoran with a secret message,” Chakotay realized.

“What happened to the body?” asked Tuvok.

“I think it’s still in the morgue.”  Kira tapped her comm badge.  “Kira to Bashir.”

“Bashir here.”

“Julian, do we still have the body of that unidentified Bajoran?”

“Yes, it’s in the morgue.  Why?”

“I have some visitors who’d like to see it.”

“By all means, send them down.”

“Lieutenant Nog, take our guests to Dr. Bashir.”  The Ferengi nodded and led the three into a lift.  As they walked, Janeway watched Chakotay with concern.  He looked as if a ghost had arisen right in front of him.  Perhaps it had.
    

Waves lapped up on the shore in a consistent rhythm, and grainy sand slid between her toes as she walked.  She did not know her destination, only that her steps would carry her wherever she needed to go.  When she saw a figure in the distance, she knew that he was her stopping point, and she began to run along the beach, her feet slipping in the sand.  The distant form ran towards her, and moments later, they were locked in a tight embrace.  She felt his lips on hers and she kissed him as though she were starving and he had the only food she required.

He was the one to break the kiss.  He pulled back from her and held her face between his hands.  “Annika, my sweet Annika.”

“How have you come here?” she asked.  “Unimatrix Zero was destroyed.”

“I don’t have time to explain,” Axum replied.  “This isn’t Unimatrix Zero, but I had to find a way to reach you, and, my darling, I finally have.”  He pressed his lips to hers again, but broke away quickly, glancing behind himself.  “I don’t have much time.  I came to warn you.”

“What is it?” she asked, reaching one hand up to stroke his hair.

“The Borg are coming.  I wanted to get there in time to save you, but our recent battle took a lot out of us and we need to finish repairs before we can come to you.”  His image began to decay, as it had in her first vision.  “You must be prepared.  I wanted to help you, my love, but they’re coming... too... fast...”  He struggled to stay in the moment with her as he was torn away.  “Too... fast...”  His body shimmered out of existence, and her hands held nothing but moonlight.

Seven’s eyes snapped open and she stepped down from her alcove.  “Regeneration cycle incomplete,” said the computer.  Seven ignored it.

She moved quickly to the cockpit of the Hugh.  “Seven?” the EMH asked with concern.  “Are you all right?”

“I need to contact Admiral Janeway.”

“What happened?” the Doctor asked.

“I have received another communication from Axum.”  Seven did not look at the Doctor as she spoke, but her hands trembled as she accessed the communications panel.  “The Borg are coming now.”

“Here are his belongings,” said Dr. Julian Bashir, handing a small box to Admiral Janeway.  They had learned little from the unnamed Bajoran body.  Organ failure had been the only cause of death that Bashir had been able to find, and there was no evidence of either murder or suicide.  It appeared to be a natural death, and the Bajoran male had been labeled as a “John Doe.”  Images of him had been sent to Bajor and the worlds near Deep Space Nine, but so far no one had been able to identify the body.  The few belongings that had been found on his person had been stored in a small box in case his body was later claimed.

Tuvok examined the contents of the box.  There was no identification and only a little bit of cash.  He’d had a standard Bajoran communications device and an isolinear chip.  Tuvok held up the chip and examined it, then scanned it with his tricorder.  Janeway and Chakotay watched him expectantly.  “It contains the account number and password for a bank account on Ferenginar,” Tuvok informed them.

“Ferenginar?” asked Bashir.  Tuvok nodded.  “Come on,” said Julian.  “I know just who you need to talk to.”

The three officers followed Bashir through the station and to the Promenade.  When they arrived at Quark’s, a familiar Ferengi greeted them.  “Doctor!” he said.  “What can I do for you?”  Then he noted the three officers with Bashir.  “Admiral Janeway and Commander Chakotay, back so soon?  Black coffee and cinnamon tea, was it?”

A bemused expression crossed Janeway’s face; she was impressed at the bartender’s memory.  “I’m afraid we don’t have time for that today,” she replied, gesturing to Tuvok to hand over the chip.  “We were wondering what you could tell us about this.  It contains information regarding a bank account on Ferenginar.”

Quark studied the chip carefully.  “It looks authentic.  Whose account is it?”

“The chip was found on the body of an unidentified Bajoran male,” Tuvok explained.  

“A Bajoran?”  Quark seemed puzzled.  “I’ve never heard of a Bajoran investing in a Ferengi bank.”

“We’d like to know more about this man and his bank account,” said Chakotay.  “Can you get us that information?”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement.  You don’t happen to have any gold-pressed latinum on you, do you?”

Bashir stepped between the Ferengi and Chakotay.  “How about you just give it to them, Quark, and I’ll agree not to tell Major Kira about the shipment of Romulan Ale you smuggled in here last week.”

“But how did you...  When did...  I didn’t...” Quark stammered.  Bashir gave him a stern look, and the Ferengi sighed.  “All right, all right.  I’ll get your information for you.”  He glared at Bashir.  “Thanks a lot, Doctor.”

Julian smiled, pretending not to notice the sarcasm in the Ferengi’s tone.  “I live to serve.”

“Paris to Janeway.”  Tom’s voice sounded concerned.

She tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway here.”

“We’ve just received a transmission from Seven of Nine, Admiral.  She’s picked up four Borg vessels on sensors.”

Eyes wide, Janeway looked up at Chakotay, and the worry on his face mirrored her own.  She turned back to Quark.  “Inform us as soon as you have more information about this account.”

“I’ll do my best,” the bartender replied, visibly distracted by the prospect of incoming Borg vessels.  

Janeway turned to Bashir.  “Thank you for your help, Doctor.  Please thank Commander Kira for her hospitality.”  Bashir nodded, and Janeway tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway to Voyager.  Three to beam up.”  

As the three officers dematerialized and Bashir left the bar, Quark turned back to his bottles and muttered under his breath, “If the Borg assimilate us, I don’t know what good that information is going to do anyone.”

“Everything is prepared for the attack, V’tan, exactly as you asked,” M’hel whispered, glancing around his laboratory nervously to make sure no one else was in earshot.

“And the Borg’s course has been confirmed?”

“Yes, I verified it today myself.”

V’tan’s eyes glinted with excitement.  “This was fortuitous, Hel.  I couldn’t have planned a better time for a Borg attack if I had tried.  Now, you’re certain that everything will go exactly as we planned?  No improvisation this time, not even for the sake of science.”

“I’m certain, V’tan.”

“And Ch’a’fen knows nothing about this?”

“Nothing.  He’ll be just as surprised as Janeway when there is no first line of defense against the Borg.”  M’hel emitted a harsh chortle.  “The Federation is done for, V’tan, and by the time the Borg return for us, we’ll be ready for them.”

“Excellent,” V’tan replied with a satisfied sigh.  “Everything is proceeding exactly as I planned.”

Chapter Text

13

To Stand Together

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”
    -Martin Luther King, Jr.

Voyager sped towards the impending battle, slipstream drive engaged, as the Titan and the Enterprise warped towards the rendezvous coordinates.  The Enterprise would be the last to arrive, and Picard hoped he could get there in time.  En route, Janeway spoke to Emperor Ch’a’fen, who promised to send a Br’nai fleet, but she had yet to see any evidence of reinforcements.  

She pleaded for backup from Nechayev and Ross, but instead of offering assistance, they grilled her on her reasons for not following orders and returning to the Federation border immediately.  Finally, Nechayev admitted that only two other ships were anywhere close to being in range, the Ajax and the Pueblo.  After much hemming and hawing over orders, she acquiesced and ordered the two smaller vessels to assist Voyager.   

Via subspace, Janeway and Picard attempted to form a battle plan, but both of them guessed that the Borg would use tactics they would be unable to anticipate.  Unfortunately, Seven hadn’t been able to glean much new information from her brief communication with Axum, either.  All she could tell them was that the situation had to be serious if Axum was so worried.  Seven and the EMH remained aboard the Hugh, orbiting Br’nai, keeping watch on their supposed allies.

“Admiral, we’ve arrived at the rendezvous coordinates,” Tom Paris said.

“All stop,” Janeway ordered.

“Answering all stop.”

“Location of Borg vessels?” Chakotay inquired.

“Long range sensors are picking up four Borg cubes and one sphere,” said Tuvok.  “Distance: approximately twelve light years.”

“Estimated time to intercept?” Janeway asked.

“Less than one hour.”

“Admiral, the Titan is approaching our coordinates,” reported Lieutenant Andrews from ops.

A few moments later, the Titan dropped out of warp in front of them.  “Hail Captain Riker,” Janeway ordered.  Riker’s face appeared on the view screen.  “Nice of you to join us, Captain,” she said with a tight smile.

“I wouldn’t want to miss the party,” he replied.  “Where are our other guests?”

“The only ships in range are the Ajax and the Pueblo.  They’re on their way.”

“So is the Enterprise.  And if I know Jean-Luc Picard, he’ll be bringing the cavalry with him.”

Janeway nodded.  “Let’s hope so.”  

It wasn’t long before the Ajax and the Pueblo arrived, but the Enterprise was still a short distance away when Lieutenant Andrews said, “Admiral, I’m picking up Borg transwarp signatures.”

“Open a channel,” Janeway ordered.  Tuvok assented.  “This is Admiral Janeway to the fleet.  Prepare to engage the Borg.”

Moments later, a Borg cube emerged from a transwarp aperture.  “We are the Borg.  Lower your shields and surrender your ships.  We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own.  Your culture will adapt to service us.  Resistance is futile.”  The drone-like, metallic voices spoke in unison, reciting the greeting that still sent chills down Janeway’s spine, even after all the times she had faced the Borg and won.  She glanced at Chakotay, seated next to her, finding the support she needed in his eyes.

“Admiral Janeway to the fleet.  Fire at will.”  She turned to Tuvok.  “Engage ablative hull armor.”  Thank you, Admiral Janeway, she thought, grateful to her counterpart from the future who had brought them the technology.  Unfortunately, Voyager and the Delta Flyer remained the only ships that were equipped with the armor.

“Ablative hull armor engaged.”

Janeway gripped the arms of her chair and looked at the view screen with steely eyes.  “Mr. Paris, attack pattern alpha one.  Tuvok, lock phasers and fire.”

The Titan was already firing at the cube, moving deftly around it.  “The cube’s shields are down to seventy percent,” reported Andrews.  A shot lanced out at Voyager but the hull armor held, and the ship barely wavered under the beam’s influence.

“Two additional Borg vessels are emerging from the conduit,” said Tuvok.  

“Mr. Paris, attack pattern omega.”  Voyager split off from the Titan and engaged the emerging vessels, one of which already had the Pueblo in its tractor beam.  “Lock onto their tractor emitters and fire.”

“No effect,” replied Tuvok as a Borg cutting beam lanced out and began to cut through the Pueblo’s shields.  

“Target the cube with a transphasic torpedo,” ordered Janeway, “and fire.”  The torpedo shot out of Voyager and hit the cube.  It detonated on impact, sending sparks flying, and the tractor beam immediately disappeared.

“The tractor beam has been disabled,” Tuvok reported.  “The cube’s shields are down to sixty percent.”

“They’re prepared for the transphasic torpedoes this time,” observed Chakotay.  A blast rocked Voyager’s hull.

“It’s the cutting beam, Admiral!” said Andrews frantically.  “They’re trying to cut right through our armor.”  It was the third cube that had now engaged them, while the Titan kept the first one occupied and the Ajax and the Pueblo attacked the vessel that had already been partially disabled.

“Lock on a transphasic torpedo and fire,” Janeway commanded, gripping the arms of her chair as the bridge continued to quake.

The torpedo was fired and the bridge stopped shaking as the cutting beam disengaged.  “Their shields are down to seventy-eight percent, Admiral,” said Tuvok.  “I estimate we can use one or two more torpedoes before their usefulness diminishes.”  

“Admiral,” said Andrews, “I’m picking up a large group of warp signatures headed our way.”

“Borg?”

“No, ma’am.  One of them is Starfleet.  And the others are...”  Before Andrews could finish his sentence, a large group of ships appeared on the view screen.  It was the Enterprise and a fleet of Klingon warbirds.

“We are being hailed, Admiral,” said Andrews.

“On screen.”

Captain Jean-Luc Picard’s face appeared on the view screen.  “Am I late for the party?”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Janeway replied.  “I see you brought some friends.”

Picard nodded.  “Ambassador Worf is in command of the Klingon fleet.”

Janeway nodded and signaled to Tuvok to cut the transmission.  “Open a channel to all vessels.  This is Admiral Janeway to all Starfleet and Klingon vessels.  Fire at will.  Repeat, fire at will.”  She paused.  “And Ambassador Worf, thank you for joining us.”

A moment later, Worf’s face appeared in front of her.  “Admiral Janeway.  Today is a good day to die!”

“Take us in, Tom, closer to that third cube,” said Janeway.  “Tuvok, target their shields and fire phasers!”  Voyager danced around the cube, moving in sync with two Klingon warbirds.  All three ships continued to fire on the Borg cube as it caught one of the warbirds in its tractor beam.  Voyager fired a transphasic torpedo.  It was enough to disengage the tractor beam, but it barely weakened the cube’s shields.

A bright light flashed across the view screen.  “The second cube has been destroyed,” reported Tuvok.  Tom let out a whoop which earned him a disapproving look from the Vulcan.  

The Enterprise came around to join the Titan, which had taken minor damage, in battling the first cube.  Just as the battle seemed to be tipping in their favor, Tuvok said,  “I am detecting three additional transwarp signatures approaching our location.”

“Janeway to the fleet.  We’ve got more company on the way.”  A moment later, the Borg ships burst through the transwarp conduit - two more cubes, and a sphere.  The Klingons moved to engage the new threat, but before they could begin to fire, the sphere launched an unfamiliar class of torpedo at the Ajax.  For a moment, everyone on Voyager’s bridge was stunned.  They had never seen the Borg use a weapon like this before.

“What the hell was that?” asked Chakotay.

“Unknown,” replied Tuvok as he scanned the sphere and the Ajax.  “It appears to be some sort of torpedo...”

“I can see that, Tuvok.”

“We are being hailed by Captain Narth,” said Tuvok, ignoring the commander’s sarcastic remark.

“On screen,” Janeway ordered.  She was not prepared for the image that appeared before her.  Captain Narth knelt on the floor of his bridge, clinging to the railing behind the command chair.  Voyager’s crew could hear screams emanating from behind him, and they caught glimpses of Borg technology sprouting onto cheeks and hands, skin greying, eyes glossing over.  

“The weapon...” Narth rasped.  “It’s some sort of Borg assimilation torpedo.  Can’t... stop... it...”  

Kathryn felt her blood run cold as she saw a spider-like nodule explode onto Narth’s cheek, and he screamed, convulsing as he collapsed onto the floor. 

“A nanoprobe torpedo,” Chakotay whispered, realizing the implications of Narth’s statement.  Janeway whipped her head around to stare at the commander.  He had to be right.  Somehow, the Borg had developed a weapon that released nanoprobes directly into the ship they wished to assimilate.  There was no need for a cutting beam or a lengthy drone-to-individual assimilation process.  In retrospect, it seemed strange that they hadn’t developed such a weapon years earlier.

“This is Admiral Janeway to the fleet.  Concentrate all available fire power on that Borg sphere.  It is carrying nanoprobe torpedoes which must be avoided at all cost.  Repeat, concentrate all available fire power on the Borg sphere and avoid its weapons.”

“They are acknowledging our hail, Admiral,” said Tuvok.  Just then, Voyager shook with a tremendous blast, and Janeway and Chakotay lurched forward out of their seats.  “They are attempting to use the nanoprobe torpedoes to penetrate our armor,” Tuvok reported.

“Evasive pattern gamma four!” Janeway commanded, pulling herself back into her chair.  Voyager whipped around and watched as the Enterprise destroyed the Ajax.  Having been partially assimilated once herself, Janeway was certain death was a preferable fate, and she knew that Picard’s experience with the Borg had taught him the same thing.  She watched as the Titan battled with one of the Borg cubes; even with help from the Klingons, Riker’s ship didn’t seem to be winning the battle.  “Let’s see if we can give the Titan a little assistance,” she said.  “Mr. Paris, attack pattern delta two.”

A beam from one of the Borg ships made contact with Voyager, and the ship shook again.  “Hull armor down to eighty-five percent,” reported Tuvok.

“Admiral, the Defiant is in range,” said Andrews.  “They’re asking if we require assistance.”

“Tell them they’re late to the party.”

“One of the Klingon vessels has been hit with a nanoprobe torpedo,” said Tuvok.

Janeway gritted her teeth.  “Damn it!”  

“The Titan’s shields are down to sixty percent.”

Janeway’s mind was racing.  She glanced at Chakotay.  The message in her eyes was clear.  It’s not working.  “Suggestions, Commander?” she asked softly.

“Lieutenant Andrews, which cube’s shields are the weakest?”

“Um...”  Andrews hesitated as he checked the sensor readings.  “The cube at bearing four one nine mark five.  Its shields are down to forty-seven percent.”  It had been one of the first cubes to arrive, and it had been concentrating its fire power on the Titan.

“Get ready to beam the last transphasic torpedo inside of the cube,” said Chakotay.  Janeway glanced at him and nodded.  They had tried this trick once before and it had worked.  Even if the Borg were prepared for them to use the transphasic torpedo, hopefully beaming it inside their vessel would catch them off guard.

“Janeway to the Titan.  Concentrate all your fire power on that cube’s shield generator.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Riker replied.  The Titan fired a series of torpedoes at the cube.

“The cube’s shields are down,” said Tuvok.

“Initiate transport,” Chakotay ordered.  “Prepare to detonate the torpedo on my mark.”

“Transport complete,” Andrews said.

“Mark!”  Before their eyes, the Borg cube exploded into millions of pieces, throwing the Titan back in the wave of the explosion.

“We are receiving a transmission from the Defiant,” said Andrews.

“On screen.”

“Admiral Janeway.”  Commander Kira’s face appeared.  “Sorry we’re late.”  

“Thanks for joining us, Commander.  The Borg sphere is carrying some kind of a nanoprobe torpedo launcher.  They can assimilate an entire vessel with a single weapon.  We need to disable it.”

“Understood,” said Kira.  “Defiant out.”  A momentary breath of relief filled the bridge; one cube destroyed, additional reinforcements arrived...  But the moment was short-lived.

“Admiral, the Pueblo has been hit with a nanoprobe torpedo!” exclaimed Andrews.

At that moment, another blast struck Voyager.  “Hull armor down to seventy-eight percent,” reported Tuvok.  “Two of the Klingon warbirds have been destroyed.”

“Where are those damn Br’nai?” muttered Janeway.  She turned to Tuvok.  “Send a subspace transmission to Emperor Ch’a’fen.  Tell him we need reinforcements, now.”

“Transmitting.”

“Admiral,” Tom Paris spoke up, “let me take the Flyer out.”

“The Flyer is no match for the Borg, Tom,” Chakotay argued, sharing a worried glance with Kathryn.  

“I have an incoming transmission from Emperor Ch’a’fen, Admiral,” said Tuvok as Voyager jolted from another blast.

“On screen.”

“Admiral,” said Ch’a’fen with a small bow, “I’m sorry, we’re having difficulty with our launching pad.  We’ve been unable to get our fleet off the ground.  We are attempting to resolve this technical difficulty as soon as possible.”  

Chakotay glanced at Kathryn.  She had set her jaw stubbornly and kept her eyes locked on the view screen, betraying no hint of the fear and frustration he knew she must be feeling.  “Very well, Emperor,” she said coldly.  “Keep us updated.  Voyager out.”

“Let me take the Flyer,” Paris insisted.  “It has the same modifications as Voyager, and it’ll give the Borg another target.  It’s the most maneuverable ship we’ve got.”

Janeway’s eyes met Chakotay’s and he nodded imperceptibly.  “Do it, Mr. Paris,” she said.  “Take Lieutenant Ayala with you.  Chakotay, take the conn.”  Paris leapt from his seat and gave her a mock salute as he left the bridge, and Chakotay quickly took Paris’ place at the conn.  “Tuvok, open a channel to the fleet.”  He nodded that the channel was open.  “This is Admiral Janeway.  There will be no reinforcements from Br’nai - at least not any time soon - so don’t count on it.  Our first priority must be to disable the Borg sphere.  Concentrate all fire power on the sphere and avoid those nanoprobe torpedoes!”

On the view screen, the Pueblo was slowly taking on a greenish tinge.  The nanoprobes seemed to assimilate the vessel itself along with its crew.  Janeway couldn’t help the chill that ran down her spine as she turned to Tuvok and said, “Target the Pueblo and fire.”
    

Jean-Luc Picard had seen enough of the Borg for one lifetime.  He had felt that way ever since Q had flung the Enterprise into their domain all those years ago.  Yet here he was, up against them once again.  He had hated giving the order to destroy the Ajax, but it had had to be done.  And if they didn’t come up with a new strategy soon, they were all going to suffer a similar fate.

“Captain, I’m detecting an approaching transwarp signature,” said Harry.

“Another one?”  Why would the Borg send another ship when they already had the upper hand?  It wasn’t like them to waste resources.  “Lieutenant Thomas, lock onto that signature as soon as it emerges from the conduit and prepare to fire.”

“Shields down to sixty-four percent,” Kim reported.

“Evasive maneuvers.”

“We are receiving a transmission from Admiral Janeway,” said Harry.

“On screen.”

“This is Admiral Janeway to the fleet.  Do not fire on the approaching vessel.  It is not an enemy ship.  Repeat: the ship approaching at transwarp is not an enemy vessel.”

“Disengage weapons lock,” Picard ordered.  “Attack pattern theta.  Target the sphere and fire at will.”  Worf and his Klingon fleet, along with the Defiant, had two cubes occupied while the Titan engaged the third and the Enterprise and Voyager focused on the sphere.  “Status of the sphere’s shields, Mr. Kim?”

“Their shields are holding, sir.”

Picard grimaced.  They had most advanced ships in the fleet and they could barely make a dent in the sphere’s shields.  Had Borg technology finally outclassed Starfleet?  On the view screen, a small vessel of an unrecognizable configuration appeared from a transwarp conduit.  Picard looked at Commander Madden, but he seemed equally unfamiliar with the new ship.

“The vessel is hailing us, sir,” said Kim.

“On screen.”

A moment later, two faces appeared.  They were vaguely familiar to Picard, but an outburst of recognition came from the ops station behind him.  “Doc!  Seven!  Where the hell have you been?” burst Harry Kim.

“Well...” the Doctor began, but Seven cut him off.

“There is no time to explain.  I am transmitting data to you regarding the vital systems of the Borg sphere.  You must direct your fire power precisely to these coordinates.  That will disable the vessel.”  She paused and locked eyes with Picard.  “You must comply.”  The transmission ended.

“I’ve received the data, sir,” reported Thomas.

Picard knew that there was no time for hesitation.  He glanced back at Miranda.  “Make it so.”  The Enterprise and Voyager moved into position to fire at the coordinates Seven had sent.

As they concentrated their firepower on a small area of the sphere, Harry chronicled the changes in the vessel’s shields.  “Their shields are weakening!  Down to eighty percent... seventy-two... fifty-seven percent.”

“Arm photon torpedoes and fire!” Picard ordered.

The torpedo launched and hit its target.  “The sphere’s shields are down to forty-three percent.”  Voyager fired one of its tricobalt devices, and the sphere exploded in a burst of light.  The members of the bridge crew couldn’t help but cheer, and for a moment, Picard thought the battle might be over.  Then, from the debris of the explosion emerged another sphere, smaller and more maneuverable than its counterpart.  The sphere had been destroyed, but the Borg had a safe haven for their secret weapon, one that wouldn’t be so easily eliminated.

“You ready?” Tom glanced over at Mike Ayala.

“Ready to kick some Borg ass,” Mike replied with a tight smile.

Tom knew he was probably thinking of his wife and sons back on Earth, and he reached out to lay a hand on the other man’s shoulder.  “We’ll make it back,” he said softly, thinking of his own wife and daughter who were in danger at this very moment.  “Initiate launch sequence,” Paris ordered.  The shuttle bay doors opened and the Flyer shot out into the midst of the raging battle.  Tom hailed the Titan.  “Paris to Riker.  How about some company - the friendly kind?”

“You’re more than welcome to join us, Lieutenant,” Riker replied.

Tom cut the transmission and maneuvered through the battlefield.  Even in the face of grave danger, Tom never felt so alive as when he had his hands at the controls of a starship - this ship in particular, the one that he and B’Elanna had designed together.  He said a silent prayer that both his wife and daughter would be safe and waiting for him if - no, when he returned.

“Engaging ablative hull armor,” Ayala said.

“Once we’re in range, keep firing on that cube, Mike.  We’re going to try to draw their attention away from the Titan and give Riker a chance to regroup.”

“You got it.”

The Flyer swept in towards the cube, firing phasers.  The Titan had damaged the Borg vessel, but it had been the Starfleet ship that had fared worst in the confrontation.  A beam from the cube hit the Flyer, causing the ship to tilt slightly off course.  Tom coaxed her back to the proper heading.

“Armor is holding,” Ayala reported.  Another Borg beam hit them.  “They’re trying to slice through our armor with their cutting beam.”

“Hang on,” Paris said, forcing the ship into a sharp dive to evade the beam.  “I guess we got their attention.”

“Not enough, apparently.  They’ve got the Titan in a tractor beam.”

“Lock our transphasic torpedoes onto their tractor emitter.  I’m gonna take us in close,” said Tom.  Even though the Borg had begun to adapt to the torpedoes, at close range, they should still have an impact.  Paris maneuvered the ship as close to the emitter as he could, evading most of the shots from the cube as he did so.  “Fire!”  The torpedo shot straight, hitting the shields around the tractor emitter.  The tractor beam held, but a gap appeared in the shield grid around the emitter.  “One more should do it,” Tom said.  “Fire!”  The second torpedo hit its target and the tractor beam abruptly disengaged.  “Yes!” Paris exclaimed, glancing over at Mike with a triumphant smile.

“Riker to Paris.  Thanks.  I owe you one.”

“Just doing my duty, sir,” Paris replied.  “I expect...”  Tom never got to finish his sentence.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small vessel whiz by.  “What the hell?”  Before Ayala could reply, the Flyer was rocked by a huge blast.  Sparks flew from a console behind the two men.

“It’s a Borg sphere, a small one,” realized Ayala.  In their focus on freeing the Titan, they had lost track of what was occurring on the other side of the battlefield.  The controls felt safe and sure under Tom’s hands.  He’d outmaneuver this vessel; he was sure of it.  Another blur zipped past the view screen, and another blast hit them.  “Hull armor is failing,” Ayala reported.  “Transporters and environmental controls are offline.”

Tom attempted to evade the agile ship, but the controls began to feel sluggish.  A third blast hit the Flyer, and Tom was thrown up against his console.  His head hit the control panel and then the floor as he was thrown backwards by the force of the explosion.  Before the blackness hit him, all he could see in his mind’s eye was his daughter’s beautiful smile.  And then, nothing.

“The Flyer’s been hit by one of the nanoprobe torpedoes!” exclaimed Andrews.

Janeway felt fear surge through her.  Tom Paris, Michael Ayala...  “Beam them out, now!”

“Transporters are offline,” Tuvok reported.  “Another Klingon vessel has been destroyed.  The Enterprise has been locked in a Borg tractor beam.”

“Move to intercept that cube,” Janeway ordered.  “Target their tractor emitters and fire.”  The small sphere zoomed past them.  “Chakotay, evasive maneuvers.”  A nanoprobe torpedo hit Voyager, sending Janeway stumbling forward and causing a chain of explosions.  Chakotay’s console erupted in sparks, and he was thrown to the deck.  Janeway heard another explosion and as she picked herself up, she saw Tuvok slumped against the wall, green blood trickling down his singed face.  “Janeway to sickbay.  Medical emergency!”

“We have our hands full down here, Admiral,” Davidson replied.  “I’ll send a team as soon as possible.”

Janeway struggled to stand upright.  She had landed on her arm, and pain shot through her wrist, but she ignored it.  “Report.”

“Armor has failed.  Shields are down to twenty percent,” said Andrews, wiping blood away from his eye as it drizzled down his face from a nasty gash on his forehead.  “We have hull breaches on decks ten through fifteen.”

Kathryn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.  She glanced down at Chakotay’s unconscious form and could see his chest rising and falling; he was alive.  She moved past him, taking the conn.  “I’m setting a collision course with that sphere,” she said.  “That weapon cannot be allowed to reach Earth.  Andrews, order an immediate evacuation of all decks.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Andrews paused for a moment, gulping.  “Admiral, I’m detecting several more transwarp signatures on an intercept course.”

“More?”  

“Captain Riker is hailing, ma’am.”

“Put him through.”

The transmission came through, audio only.  “Please tell me those are friends on the way.”

“I’m afraid not, Captain.  Move the Titan out of range.  I’m setting a collision course with that sphere.”

“Admiral...” Riker began to protest, but Janeway cut him off.

“Just do it.”  As she plotted the collision course and Voyager’s crew began to evacuate, another transmission came through the comm system.

“Seven of Nine to Janeway.”

“I’m a little busy, Seven.”

“Admiral, I may have found a way to target the sphere using the Hugh’s sensors.  Allow me to make an attempt.”

Janeway grimaced.  Seven had seen the escape pods jettisoning from Voyager and had probably guessed her plan.  “Seven, you have ninety seconds before I send Voyager into that sphere.”

“Understood.”  Janeway watched on the view screen as the Hugh began to track the small sphere.  The Enterprise remained locked in a cube’s tractor beam, a Borg cutting beam slowly weakening its shields.  The damaged Titan had moved away as Janeway had ordered, and she realized that she had lost track of the Defiant in all the chaos.  Of the fourteen Klingon warbirds that had begun the battle, only three remained.  She wondered if Worf had survived.

The transwarp conduit opened in front of them before Andrews had a chance to say anything.  Borg cube after Borg cube emerged, and Janeway felt an emotion she had rarely experienced - hopelessness.  She glanced at Chakotay’s still unconscious form and turned quickly back to the view screen to hide the tears stinging the backs of her eyes from Andrews.  It was over.  Even a collision course with the sphere wouldn’t save them now.  Eight cubes had emerged from the conduit, followed by another sphere, which released from its bowels another small sphere, another nanoprobe torpedo launcher.  Kathryn steeled herself, trying to prepare herself for assimilation.  This was the end.  The battle was over and they had lost.

It took her a moment to notice that the new sphere was not attacking the Federation vessels, but instead pursuing the nanoprobe weapon.  The weapon launched a nanoprobe torpedo at Voyager and Kathryn closed her eyes, bracing herself against the conn.  A plethora of images passed before her eyes: her mother and sister, waiting for her back on Earth, her father’s face, her crew celebrating together in Voyager’s mess hall, Chakotay peering down at her in the Paris moonlight...  She waited for the explosion that would end her existence and turn her into a Borg drone, but it never came.  Kathryn snapped her eyes open and saw a cloud of smoke where the torpedo had been.  Then, in a flash of light, she saw the new Borg sphere destroy the first, terminating the deadly weapon.  One by one, the recently arrived cubes picked off the attacking force until the threat was completely eliminated.

“Admiral,” said Andrews, his voice filled with wonder, “we’re being hailed.”

“On screen,” she managed, her heart pounding in her chest.

A single Borg appeared on the view screen.  He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.  Was he a drone she had encountered during her brief assimilation?  “Captain Janeway,” he greeted her.  “I regret that we were unable to arrive earlier.”

Suddenly the pieces clicked into place.  “Axum!”

The drone smiled, something Janeway had never seen before.  “You remember me.  I’m glad.”

“Of course, I do.  Axum, what just happened?”

“The Collective created the nanoprobe torpedo,” he explained.  “We created a countermeasure, an anti-nanoprobe weapon.  It neutralizes nanoprobes on impact.”

“We are in your debt.  You saved our lives.  One of our vessels was hit by a nanoprobe torpedo.  Can you counteract its effects?”

“Yes, but I must get to them immediately.  The more time goes by, the harder it will become to restore them to their human condition.”  Axum’s words sent a chill down Janeway’s spine.  Tom and Mike, assimilated...  The image made her shudder.  She looked up at the screen, realizing Axum was still staring at her.  He spoke tentatively, as if he was afraid of the answer.  “Captain Janeway, is Annika here?”

“Yes,” she replied, managing a small smile.  “Yes, she is.”

Chapter Text

14

Non Nobis Solum

“That the greatest security of the people, against the encroachments and usurpations of their superiors, is to keep the Spirit of Liberty constantly awake, is an undeniable truth.”
    -Edmund Burke

Long, flowing blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, a joyful laugh that sounded like pure joy, the soft skin of a belly in which their child had just begun to grow... the images whirled in V’tan’s mind as he stared at the holoimage of his wife.  He had stowed the image away after Ky’len’s death and had forgotten it until he had stumbled across it this evening.  Seeing her beautiful face smiling up at him filled him with emotions he thought he had long since buried - despair, sadness, melancholy, loneliness.  These feelings morphed quickly into rage as his beloved’s final moments played over and over again in his mind.  If the Federation had not been so arrogant, so certain that their technology would do no harm, so sure that their doctors were the best in the quadrant...  If the Br’nai had not spent years isolating themselves...  If Emperor Zi’le’gat had not been so afraid of confrontation and had been willing to exact revenge himself...  If only he could go back and change the past...

Tan, please, help me,” Ky’len’s terrified eyes looked up at him from the Starfleet biobed.

He gripped her hand.  “Do something!” he urged the doctors.  “Help her, please!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” one of the humans replied, “I’ve never seen your species before.  I don’t understand why this treatment isn’t working.”

“Then send us back to Br’nai where someone can help her, for god’s sake.”

“We can’t do that, sir,” said the doctor.  “It was the use of the transporter that caused her cellular structure to begin to break down.  We can’t risk another transport.  Even if she survives, the baby won’t.”

“No!” V’tan screamed, feeling tears stinging the backs of his eyes.

“Tan, I’m frightened,” Ky’len whispered, clutching his hand.  Her skin was pale, and her bright green eyes were fading.  

V’tan leaned over the biobed.  “Don’t leave me, Ky’len.  I need you.  Please, don’t leave me.”  He held her hand to his chest and kissed her fingers.  

“Excuse me, sir,” said the doctor.  “I need for you to move over a little.”

V’tan looked up at the Starfleet doctor through his tears.  “She’s my wife.  I won’t leave her side.”

“We need to perform a delicate procedure, sir.  If you don’t...”

“I’m not moving!” V’tan shouted.  The doctor did not speak to him again for several moments.  He and the nurses moved around the bed quickly, making one final attempt to save Ky’len’s life.  The next sound V’tan heard was the beeping of the heart rate monitor as it flatlined in a deafening monotone.  “No!” V’tan shouted, throwing himself over his wife’s body, his frame wracked with sobs.  “No!”

Several minutes later, as Ky’len’s flesh began to grow cold, V’tan extricated himself from her body and turned to face the doctor.  “I’m sorry, sir,” the man in the blue uniform said.  “There was nothing we could do.”

V’tan narrowed his eyes, at that instant feeling something shift within him.  The heartbreaking pain that he had felt only a moment before had vanished, replaced by a cold hatred.  He stared at the doctor, his silver eyes boring into the puny human.  “You will pay for this,” he said softly.  “You and your mighty Federation.”

V’tan stopped himself, replacing the holoimage in the drawer and slamming it shut, closing the memories and emotions away with it.  He could not change the past.  For all that was in his power, that much eluded him.  But now, he ruled Br’nai, and his plan to make the Federation pay for what they had done had already been set in motion.  His console beeped, interrupting his thoughts, and he opened the channel.  

M’hel appeared, a smug smile on his face.  “I have news.  Am I the first to tell you?”

“First to tell me what?”

“Starfleet has engaged the Borg, without our help.  Our launching system malfunctioned as I assured you it would.”

“Good.  Let the Federation and the Borg destroy each other.”

“That’s not all, V’tan.  Our dear friend Fen was outraged by the malfunction, and, ever the do-gooder, he sent a few ships after the battle was over and the ‘malfunction’ was repaired.  He wouldn’t want to damage our precious alliance with the Federation.”  M’hel’s tone dripped with sarcasm.  “Those ships have just returned with this report: Starfleet took heavy casualties, but they won the battle.  Janeway survived.”

“What?!” V’tan exploded in a rage, unable to understand why M’hel seemed so smug.

“It seems the Federation had help from another group of Borg, drones that aren’t part of the Collective.”

As this new information settled in, V’tan burst out laughing, throwing his head back and releasing the tension from his body.    “This is perfect, Hel.  I thought it would be good enough to let the Federation and the Borg destroy each other, but this is better.  This is the perfect way to discredit Janeway and her followers.  The Federation’s fear of the Borg borders on paranoia; I can easily manipulate it.  Starfleet won’t care if these drones are part of the Collective or not; they’re Borg.  And Janeway is in league with them.  You’ve done well, M’hel.  Very well.  What of our other project?”

“It is progressing as we hoped.”

“Good.  I have other matters to attend to, now.  Go play with your little experiments.  V’tan out.”  The screen went blank and V’tan placed another call.  It was time to start taking advantage of the connections he had made in the Federation Council and in Starfleet.  He was almost ready to set the next phase of his plot in motion.

Her heart pounding, B’Elanna burst through the doors of sickbay.  She saw her husband’s body on a biobed, his face ashen, a piece of Borg technology protruding from one of his hands.  A drone was standing over him.  “You monster!” she exploded, racing at the drone, pounding her fists into his armor, attempting to grab one of his wires and disengage it from his body.  Suddenly, strong arms grabbed her, pulling her back.

“B’Elanna!” the EMH spoke sharply.  “Control yourself.  This is not one of the Borg who hurt Tom.  He’s here to help.”

The Doctor’s words penetrated the fog of rage that had overtaken B’Elanna’s mind, and she whirled to look at him.  “What are you talking about?”

“This is Axum,” the EMH replied patiently, in his infuriatingly controlled manner.  “He gave us an antidote that will reverse the damage to both your husband and Mr. Ayala.  He just saved their lives.”

Torres let out a breath, the anger leaving her, and she suddenly felt shaky.  “Oh.”  She looked up at the drone and realized that his eyes were unlike the eyes of other drones she had seen.  He seemed more human, somehow.  “Sorry.”

“I understand why you were upset, Lieutenant Torres,” the drone replied.  His voice was kind and gentle.  “Your husband is going to be fine.”

“Thank you.”  She looked back to the Doctor.  “Can I talk to him?”

The EMH gestured to the biobed.  “He’ll remain unconscious for several hours as the antidote works its way through his system.  Rest assured, Lieutenant, he looks worse than he feels.”

She nodded slowly, feeling some trepidation as she approached the bed where her husband lay.  Part of her wanted to turn tail and run so she wouldn’t have to see his deformed figure, made part drone.  But instead, she stepped towards him.  He had been there for her after her brief assimilation, and she would do the same for him.  She stared down at the man before her.  His skin had taken on the grey color of a drone, and sharp metal protruded from his cheek and one of his hands.  But underneath it all, she could still see the man she loved.  He was still there; he was still Tom.  She took his hand, the one that remained entirely made of flesh, and ran her fingers up and down the back of it.

B’Elanna glanced around sickbay, becoming aware of her surroundings for the first time since entering the room.  The biobeds were all occupied.  Ayala lay on one of them, his skin looking just as pale as Tom’s, the same metal implants bulging out of his hands and face.  Chakotay and Tuvok, both still unconscious, occupied two of the other biobeds, and there had been many other injuries, as well.  Dr. Davidson was busily attending to them while the EMH focused on Tom and Mike.

It had been over an hour since the battle had ended, and only after having satisfied herself that repairs were underway had B’Elanna allowed herself to leave her post and come to sickbay.  She had stopped in her quarters to check on Miral and had found her daughter sitting on the floor playing a game with Mei.  Only the way she had clung to her mother when B’Elanna entered the room betrayed any awareness of the dire situation they had been in only a few hours earlier.  

Torres wondered if Janeway had been to sickbay yet.  When the admiral had stopped by engineering to check on the status of repairs, she had been favoring her left arm.  But if Torres knew the admiral, she was making her rounds, checking in with every department before she had her own wounds attended to.  As B’Elanna watched Axum shuffle out of the room, she felt a presence at her shoulder.

“The antidote is working just as we expected, Lieutenant,” the EMH said.  “Mr. Paris’ skin will begin to regain its normal color and I will be able to remove the implants within a few hours.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”  B’Elanna managed a small smile.

The doors to sickbay swished open and a familiar voice ordered, “Report, Doctor.”

Both Davidson and the EMH simultaneously turned to Janeway and began to speak, stopping when they heard the other’s voice.  Reluctantly, the EMH nodded to Davidson.  “I’ve treated a long list of bumps, bruises, and broken bones,” she said, “but, fortunately, no one was killed.  Other than Mr. Paris and Mr. Ayala, Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok suffered the worst injuries - severe plasma burns, a concussion, that sort of thing.  But they’ll both be fine.”

“What about Tom and Mike?”

For this, Davidson deferred to the EMH.  He led Janeway over to Ayala’s biobed.  “The antidote that Axum provided is working, Admiral.  Lieutenants Paris and Ayala are already beginning to show signs of improvement.  I should be able to remove their implants within a few hours.  Give them a couple days, and they’ll be good as new.”

Janeway stared down at Ayala’s ashen face, and she reached out to run her hand through his hair in an almost motherly gesture.  Sorry, Mike, she thought.  As she withdrew her hand, she couldn’t help but wince at the sharp jolt of pain that ran down her arm. 

“Are you all right, Admiral?” the EMH asked as he began to scan her with a medical tricorder.  Before she had a chance to reply, he was reprimanding her.  “Admiral, you have a broken wrist and several strained tendons in your arm!  Why didn’t you come to sickbay immediately?”

“I had other priorities, Doctor,” Janeway replied as he ran an osteogenic stimulator over her wrist and arm.  Immediately, the pain began to lessen, and Kathryn suddenly felt very tired.  She swayed a little on her feet, and the Doctor caught her arm.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” he suggested.  He knew she must be truly exhausted when she didn’t even argue with him.

“I will, Doctor.  I just have a few more things I need to attend to first.”

“Very well.”  Watching her out of the corner of his holographic eye, the Doctor turned back to his business.  He surreptitiously observed as Janeway walked over to B’Elanna and spoke to her softly, placing an arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze.  As she left B’Elanna’s side, the admiral caught him watching her and he quickly averted his eyes.  

Janeway went to Tuvok’s bedside first.  He was resting, the burns on his skin healing, and blue medical garb had replaced his blood-stained uniform.  Then she walked to where Chakotay lay and rested her hand gently on his chest.  He stirred at the contact, struggling to open his eyes.  When he finally did, he smiled, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her as his dark eyes met hers.  “Welcome back,” she said.

“The Borg?” Chakotay asked.  “The battle?  What happened?”

“Axum showed up at the last possible second.  He and his people saved all of us.”

“Axum?  Seven’s Axum?”  Janeway nodded.  “I thought he was on the other side of the galaxy.”

“Not anymore.”     

Chakotay covered her hand with one of his.  “Is everyone okay?”

She glanced to the other side of sickbay.  “Tom and Mike Ayala took quite a beating.  But, thanks to Axum, they’re going to be fine.”

Chakotay’s eyes threatened to close.  “You’ll have to fill me in on all the details when I’m more awake.”

“I will,” she whispered as he drifted off.  She stood there, relishing the feel of his warm hand over hers, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft inhale and exhale of his breath.  She felt her own eyes start to close and knew that she needed to finish her work and try to get a little rest as repairs continued.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept.  She let her hand linger under his a moment longer and then turned and left sickbay.

“How did this happen?” Ch’a’fen exclaimed angrily.  “Our technology is supposed to be state of the art, Dr. R’lar.  How could there have been a malfunction that prevented us from launching the entire fleet?  What if it had been Br’nai under direct attack?  What would we have done then?”

“The planetary defense system would have come into play...”

“I don’t want excuses!” the emperor bellowed.  “Our alliance with the Federation is at stake.  How will they trust us if we don’t deliver what we promise?”

“I’ll have a team start working on a better system right away, Your Highness,” R’lar assured him.  

Ch’a’fen sighed and sat back on his throne.  “Very well.  You may go.”  He watched R’lar hurry out of the Great Hall and then stood, unlatching his cape from his shoulders and leaving it draped across the golden seat as he walked to his private office.  The events of the past few days weighed heavily on him.  He had always considered himself a man of honor, and he didn’t like breaking his promises.  In addition, the systems malfunction had taken the lives of three Br’nai, and it would be his duty, as emperor, to inform their families of their deaths.

He sat down at his desk and began to review the most important news stories from the past few days.  He usually read the news every day, but with the impending Borg threat, there had been no time.  Worry creased his brow as he read the most recent stories from the Federation News Service.  “Ambassador V’tan has assured us that Dr. M’hel acted alone,” read a quote from Admiral Ross, “and that he has been duly punished for his illegal actions.”  The emperor read on as the story informed him that M’hel had been imprisoned and his lab confiscated by the government.  

He did not understand why V’tan felt the necessity to tell so many lies.  The Federation was supposed to be their ally, and this was no way to build real, lasting trust.  Ch’a’fen knew that he had never been the brains of their duo; that had always been V’tan, but he wasn’t stupid.  He understood trust, loyalty and friendship.  After all, he’d given all three unwaveringly to V’tan for over fifty years.  From his private office, he activated their secure comm line, and a moment later, V’tan’s face appeared in front of him.

“This is an unexpected pleasure,” the ambassador said with a smile.

“How are you, my friend?”

“Busy.  I am constantly occupied with meetings of some kind or another these days.  I just met with Admiral Nechayev of Starfleet Command.”

“I’ve been reading the news from the Federation News Service,” the emperor said pointedly.

“Well, it’s good to keep up on that sort of thing.”

Ch’a’fen crossed his arms over his chest, his black eyes narrowing.  Was V’tan being purposefully obtuse?  “Why all the lies, Tan?  You know as well as I do that M’hel continues to do his work freely, yet you’ve told the Federation that he’s been punished.  Why?”

“You and I may know the truth, Fen, but I can’t trust an alien government with that information.  Do you honestly think that Starfleet would accept anything less than the assurance that the man who attacked one of their own has been suitably penalized?”

“No,” the emperor replied, “but shouldn’t he be?”

V’tan leaned in towards the screen, speaking under his breath.  “Fen, I know you’ve never liked M’hel much.  Even as a child, you were scared of him.”  Ch’a’fen frowned; that much was true.  “But the work he’s doing is absolutely vital to our cause.  After this is all over, it will be up to you to determine if punishment is necessary for him, but right now his contribution to our plan is far too necessary.”

“What exactly is this work, V’tan?  You’ve never told me the details of it.”

“You have far more important issues to concern yourself with, my friend,” V’tan soothed.  “The ruling of our world, for one.  I promise you, M’hel is under control.  Don’t you trust me?”

Ch’a’fen closed his eyes and sighed.  “Of course I trust you, Tan.  You’ve never steered me wrong in all the years we’ve been friends.”

V’tan nodded solemnly.  “You are my brother, Ch’a’fen.  My only brother.”  

“Yes,” replied the emperor.  “I feel the same.”

In the shuttle bay, Seven gave the Hugh a final systems check.  Its shields had held during the battle, and its maneuverability was unmatched, even by the Flyer, but its weapons had been less effective than she had hoped.  She had a great deal more work to do, or she would if Starfleet would allow her to continue working at Pathfinder after she had stolen the Hugh and violated half a dozen orders.  She heard the shuttle bay doors open but didn’t turn, thinking Admiral Janeway or Lieutenant Torres had come to check on her progress.  But she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a familiar voice.  “Annika.”

Even after two years, Seven was unaccustomed to the physical symptoms that accompanied a strong emotion.  Her heart pounded and her body temperature rose several degrees as she turned towards the doorway.  “Hello, Axum.”  He looked like a drone, very different from the man she had known in Unimatrix Zero.

He approached her cautiously.  “My physical appearance disturbs you.”

“It is unsettling,” she admitted as he came towards her, not stopping until he stood only inches away.

“Would you prefer that I go?”

His eyes.  His eyes were the same.  “No,” she whispered.  “No.  I see that it is you.”  Tentatively, she reached up and brushed her fingers down his cheek.  He closed his eyes at the contact.

“I need to get back to my ship and make sure repairs are proceeding efficiently,” he said, “but I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”

“I’m glad you came,” she said with a shy smile.  “What do you intend to do now?”

“The Collective will regroup eventually.  Today was a significant battle, but we have not won the war, not yet.  I intend to seek an alliance with the Federation.”

“You may not find them to be receptive.  You are Borg.”  Seven saw shame cross Axum’s face and immediately regretted her harsh words.

“I would like to speak to your Doctor about removing my Borg implants, as he did for you.”

Her tone softened.  “I am sure he would comply.”

“Thank you.  I will speak with him.”  Axum paused.  “Annika, I must return to my ship now, but will I speak to you later?”

Two or three years earlier, Seven would not have caught the subtext of Axum’s question, but now, she understood his meaning.  “You are apprehensive about the status of our relationship.”

Axum chuckled at her forthrightness.  “Yes, I am.  When I last saw you in Unimatrix Zero...”

Seven silenced him, placing two fingers over his lips.  “I cannot make any guarantees, Axum, but I have always regretted the time I wasted during our last encounter.  I don’t intend to make the same mistake again.”

Axum cocked his head and gave a small nod of understanding.  More than anything, he longed to take her in his arms and hold her close, but the cumbersome Borg technology that held his body captive restrained his movement.  “I will see you soon,” he said, and turned away, shuffling out of the shuttle bay, the memory of her fingers on his lips lingering in his mind.  For a long time, Seven stood staring at the doors, trying to understand all the conflicting emotions that ran through her.

Councilwoman Lilith Baines disliked superiority of any kind.  As a child, she had teased the straight-A students, calling them names like “Little Miss Perfect” or “Mr. Smarty Pants.”  She had always been proud of her solid B record - good enough to get into a decent college but not so good as to be considered “above average.”  Lilith liked to root for the underdog, for the oppressed and for lost causes.  

When she was very young, she found a stray cat - a mangy little tabby - and nursed it back to health.  One of the cat’s ears had been torn off in a fight, and it had a nasty scar that ran across its face.  A veterinarian once offered to remove the scar, but ten-year-old Lilith had calmly refused, telling the vet that the scar was proof of the cat’s suffering, and that it was this suffering which made the poor creature beautiful.

As she grew older, Lilith found other causes to champion.  She formed a club at her middle school to write letters to a group of children whose planet had been ravaged by hunger and war.  She encouraged the members of her club to tell the children how noble they were for their suffering and how deeply they were loved by their brethren on Earth.  This was Lilith’s first foray into politics, a career in which she had remained, serving on the student council in high school and college.  Upon graduating, she had held several minor offices as she moved steadily up the ranks until finally being elected to the Federation Council.

The Dominion War had provided her with the type of cause she’d been awaiting all her life.  It suddenly exposed, for all to see, the vast differences between how people lived on Earth and how races lived in other parts of the Federation.  She had run on a platform of equality, citing the need to bring all Federation citizens to the same level.  It was hardly fair for some to live in luxury while others lived in squalor.  The Jem’Hadar attack on San Francisco had been a terrible tragedy, and no one ever deserved to die, but it had been about time that the citizens of Earth had had to bear some pain, she had said.  After all, why should humans sit comfortably in their drawing rooms while races on other worlds were fighting for their lives and dying of starvation?  A little suffering was good for them, she argued during her campaign.  It would build character and compassion for those less fortunate.  She won the election by a landslide.  People didn’t like her, exactly, but they didn’t dislike her, and the way she spoke to them made them feel that they, too, could become compassionate and noble if only they didn’t try to be so great.

Greatness did not fit in with Lilith Baines’ philosophy because people who sought greatness didn’t believe in suffering.  Oh, they suffered, certainly, probably more than most, but they put their suffering aside as if it were merely an impediment to the achievement of a greater goal, and Lilith did not approve of this sort of arrogance.  Equality was the only noble ideal - equality for all and of all.  

It was due to this fundamental difference of philosophy that Lilith had come to despise Kathryn Janeway.  Upon her return to the Alpha Quadrant, Janeway had quickly been added to the list of Starfleet officials Baines avoided, along with Jean-Luc Picard, William Riker and Benjamin Sisko.  She and Janeway had never met in person, but Lilith knew enough about the famous captain-turned-admiral to know that she stood for everything that Lilith had worked against her whole life.  When she’d heard of Janeway’s death, Baines had felt a perverse pleasure at the idea - a pleasure that quickly dissipated when she had found out the admiral was, in fact, still alive.

It was because of her intense dislike for the now undead admiral that Baines was watching the news vids with more than casual interest.  “Reports of a Federation battle with the Borg have now been confirmed,” said a reporter as stock footage of Borg cubes appeared on the screen.  “Sources say that two Starfleet vessels and several Klingon warbirds were destroyed, and that the Federation fleet was led by Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway.”  Janeway’s image appeared - one of the triumphant pictures that had been taken of the heroic captain upon Voyager’s return.  “Starfleet has yet to release the names of the casualties or to make any official statement.”  The screen now showed the reporter, a Bolian female named Yadra.  She sat at a news desk next to Dan Fowler, one of the best known reporters in the Federation.  

“In fact,” added Dan, “we know very little about what occurred.  Isn’t that right, Yadra?”

“Yes, it is.”  The Bolian paused, looking down at the console in front of her.  “Just a moment,” she said to the viewers, putting up one hand.  She sat up straighter, folding her hands in front of her and looking straight at the camera, which zoomed in on her, cutting Dan out of the picture.  “The Federation News Service has just received new information regarding this attack.  The information comes from an undisclosed source close to Starfleet.  According to this source, the battle ended after Admiral Janeway formed an alliance with a group of Borg.  The identity of these Borg is unknown, and it remains to be seen whether they are part of the Collective or some sort of rogue group.”  As the camera panned out, she turned to her companion.  “Dan, what do you think of this shocking news?”

“I don’t know, Yadra.  It is a shock, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  It’s hard to believe that an admiral like Janeway, someone who’s gone to great lengths to defeat the Borg in the past, would now form an alliance with them.”

“Perhaps she was coerced,” Fowler suggested.  “It hardly seems like a coincidence that this attack happened right after the disappearance of the former Borg drone, Seven of Nine, a close personal friend of the admiral.”

“True.  Perhaps there is a greater conspiracy at work here.”  Yadra paused and looked at the screen.  “Is Admiral Janeway, the hero who brought Voyager back from the Delta Quadrant, a Borg collaborator?  Has she been coerced?  Is Seven of Nine involved in a Borg conspiracy?  Is she acting under the influence of the Borg Queen?”

“We want to know what you think,” said Dan to the viewers.  “Send us your thoughts via subspace communique and we’ll read some of your comments aloud during the next hour of the show.”

“Up next, more on this exciting story as well as a look at the history of the struggle between the Federation and the Borg Collective.  I’m Yadra.”

“And I’m Dan Fowler.  This is the Federation News Service.”  The FNS emblem appeared on the screen as the network’s theme music played.

Lilith sat back in her chair and switched off the news.  Had Janeway finally made her fatal mistake?  It was bound to happen.  After all, no one could really be as great as the admiral appeared to be.  An alliance with the Borg...  It had never been public knowledge, but Lilith had heard through her sources at Starfleet that Janeway had formed an alliance with the Borg in the Delta Quadrant.  This knowledge lent a great deal more credence to the accusation that she had done so again.  Janeway was erratic and dangerous.  People who sought greatness usually were, Lilith thought.  That was why they had to be reined in and put in their place.  This time, Janeway had gone too far.  She had to be stopped or she would endanger them all.

Slowly, Baines stood and began to pace back and forth across her living room.  Janeway couldn’t be charged with a crime, at least not yet - not unless it could be proven that she had deliberately endangered the Federation by her actions.  And it was likely that the admiral would attempt to frame her deeds in heroism; she had plenty of staunch followers who would buy into that act, both in Starfleet and elsewhere.  No, a direct condemnation would be unwise.  An obvious attempt to discredit Janeway publicly would be too dangerous.  It would have to be done in back rooms, behind closed doors.  Lilith’s thin lips drew into a smile.  This was exactly the kind of politicking she relished.

She began to inventory in her mind which admirals she might be able to influence.  Alynna Nechayev had had her eye on the Secretary of Defense position for some time.  Perhaps if Baines and a few others were willing to support her bid, she’d see their side of the argument where Janeway was concerned.  And Admiral Ross would probably like to have Nechayev’s job.  There was also the recent controversy over Starfleet’s autonomy.  Councilman Thelos had been pushing for the Council to take more control over Starfleet.  Perhaps if she could get Thelos to back down just a little bit, and the Council promised to give Starfleet fewer directives, they would been more amenable to her suggestions.  

Sitting down at her desk, she accessed her computer terminal.  She needed to speak to others who would support her, and she would need a large faction to accomplish her task.  She wondered who had leaked the news to the press about Janeway’s recent alliance with the Borg.  If it had been someone in Starfleet, then they were already on her side.  If it had been someone outside of Starfleet, they had excellent sources.  Either way, she needed to find out who it was.  Perhaps they could come to an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial.

“Axum has requested that we arrange for him to meet with the Federation Council.  He plans to request an alliance.”  Janeway sat at Voyager’s briefing table with Picard, Madden, Riker, Liara, Ambassador Worf, and Chakotay and Tuvok, who had made full recoveries.  The Defiant had returned to Deep Space Nine.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Admiral,” said Picard.  “The Federation might not look favorably on a few hundred Borg approaching Earth.”

“They’re no longer part of the Collective,” Janeway replied.

“No, but they look like they are,” piped up Commander Madden.

Janeway stared at Madden in astonishment.  “Surely we’re beyond that kind of prejudice.”

“I wish that were true,” Picard answered with a sigh, “but there are many who won’t be able to look beyond Axum’s appearance, and I’m afraid several of them sit on the Federation Council.”

“What if the Doctor removes Axum’s implants before he meets with the Council?” suggested Chakotay.

Madden nodded thoughtfully.  “That would help.”

“The Klingon Empire will know what happened here today,” said Worf.  “Axum and his men fought with honor; his appearance is of little importance.  You may tell him that he can count on our support.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Worf,” said Janeway.

“I think we should ask Axum and his people to remain here until we can be sure they won’t be subjected to these kinds of questions,” Riker pointed out.

“Agreed.”  Janeway took in both captains with a glance.  “What is the status of your repairs?”

“The Enterprise is in working order,” replied Picard.

“We have a few more hours of repairs left.  Our environmental system and transporters were badly damaged,” said Riker.  “Then we’ll be ready to get underway.”

“Good.  You may both resume your courses for Earth at your earliest convenience.  With Voyager’s slipstream drive, we’ll beat you there by several days, so I will take charge of returning the Hugh to Starfleet.”  Janeway glanced at her former first officer.  “I can only hope that in light of the circumstances, Starfleet Command will be lenient towards Commander Chakotay and the others who rescued me.”  She looked around the table again.  “Anything else?”  No one spoke.  “Thank you for your assistance today, gentlemen.  I hope that next time we meet, it’s under more fortuitous circumstances.  Dismissed.”  Janeway sat back in her chair as everyone filed out the room.  She fingered a data chip in her pocket, something Seven had given her earlier - something that could be the key to exposing the Br’nai once and for all.

   
A quiet knock on the door roused V’tan from his reading.  He sat in a plush, green leather chair in the study of his spacious apartment.  He had furnished the room in dark wood with two chairs and a large desk; a luxurious brown carpet lined the floor.  The room contained one window which overlooked the buildings of the Federation Council.  The rest of the walls were lined with bookshelves that held volumes from Earth, Br’nai, Vulcan, Romulus, and many other cultures.  His current reading was an ancient Earth text, Mein Kampf, by a ruler named Adolf Hitler.  He was finding it fascinating, but he looked up when he heard the knock and called, “Yes?”

Ril poked his head in the doorway.  “There’s someone here to see you, sir.”

V’tan placed the book on the end table beside his chair.  “Who?”

“She wouldn’t give her name, sir.”  Ril seemed uneasy.  It was unusual for the ambassador to have an unannounced caller, particularly at his home, and particularly if that caller was female.

V’tan’s curiosity was piqued.  “Send her in, Ril.  Unless you think she’s dangerous?”

“No, she doesn’t seem to be a threat, Master V’tan.  I think I recognize her, but I can’t place her.  Maybe she’s a member of the Federation Council.”

This aroused the ambassador’s curiosity even more.  “Bring her in.”  Ril went out into the hallway and back to the front door.  V’tan heard the door open and close, then a brief shuffle as the guest removed her coat and a reedy voice said, “Thank you.”  A moment later, the study door opened, and Ril ushered in a petite human woman.  Her brown hair was cut short in a bob and her thin lips formed a polite smile.  Her murky eyes were neither brown nor green nor blue, but seemed to be a mix of all those colors, changeable depending on the light.  They were sharp and fixed immediately on V’tan.  “Leave us, Ril,” he ordered.  His assistant bowed his head and closed the door behind him.  V’tan had recognized the woman immediately.  “Have a seat, Councilwoman Baines,” he said, gesturing to a chair.  “Why all the secrecy?”

She pursed her lips as she took a seat, the large chair dwarfing her small frame.  “One can never be too careful, can one?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Oh, Ril can be trusted.  He may not be too bright, but he can be trusted.”  V’tan crossed to the wet bar.  “Drink?”    

“Please.”

“So what brings you here tonight, Councilwoman?” he asked as he poured two glasses of tirin.

“Oh, I just thought we ought to meet in person,” she replied casually.  “I believe we have some mutual interests.”

He handed her a glass.  “A beverage from my home world.  If you don’t enjoy it, I have a number of Earth spirits available as well.”

“Thank you.  I’m sure it will be delightful.  I always enjoy the opportunity to try something new.”

V’tan eyed the woman carefully as he sat in the chair across from her.  “Tell me about these mutual interests of ours.”

“I’ve been speaking with Councilman Thelos.”

V’tan had to force his posture to remain casual as he kept any trace of emotion from his face.  “Oh?”

“Yes,” Lilith said, leaning forward in her chair.  “I had wanted to solicit his support for my most recent endeavor.”

“The arrest warrant for Commander Chakotay and the other former Voyager crewmen.”  V’tan had heard from Thelos that Baines had been behind that measure.

Lilith nodded.  “Yes, that’s part of it.  Thelos seemed uncertain about whether or not he could support me.”

“I’m sure that I could arrange his support of your measure, along with the support of several other council members,” said V’tan.  “That is, if it suited my purpose.”

“Just what is your purpose, Ambassador?”

He ignored her question.  “You said the arrest of Commander Chakotay is part of what you want.  What’s the other part?”

Baines smiled a thin smile and lowered her chin, batting her eyes at V’tan.  “Let’s just say that the other part is a little less public.”  She paused, sizing him up.  “Tell me, is it true that you were the one who leaked the information about Janeway’s recent alliance with the Borg to the press?”

“Recent alliance?  You mean there was another one?”

Baines sat back in her chair and laughed.  “You’re good, Ambassador.  Very good.  Yes, there was, in fact, but that is not the purpose of my visit.”

V’tan was growing tired of the woman’s constant evasions.  “Then what is the purpose of your visit, Miss Baines?”

“You haven’t answered my question, Mister V’tan,” she countered.

V’tan eyed the woman warily; she, too, was good at playing this game.  “I have many sources near the area of space where the battle occurred.”

Lilith inclined her head, noting that he had answered her question without answering it.  “So you did leak that information to the press.  To what end?”

V’tan allowed himself to appear vaguely offended.  “Why, the dissemination of truth, of course.  The people have a right to know the truth.”

Lilith smiled conspiratorially, as if the two of them had just come to a secret understanding.  “Of course,” she replied.  “The public has a right to the truth, and we have an obligation to protect the public from dangerous persons.  Don’t you agree, Ambassador?”

“Dangerous persons such as?”

“Such as Admiral Kathryn Janeway.”

V’tan leaned forward in his chair; Baines had his complete attention.  “Why don’t you tell me more about our mutual interests, Councilwoman.  Can I get you another glass of tirin?”

“That would be delightful.”

As the Starfleet emblem appeared on her monitor, ending the transmission, Kathryn Janeway forced her shaking hand to tap her comm badge.  “Janeway to Chakotay.  Report to the ready room immediately.”  

“On my way.”

Janeway clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to control her anger.  She wanted to throw her computer across the room and scream, but she remained seated at her desk, her lips drawn tight.  The door chimed.  “Come in.”

Chakotay entered, a spring in his step, still feeling optimistic after the outcome of their battle with the Borg.  His lighthearted mood was replaced with apprehension the instant he saw Janeway’s face.  “What’s wrong?”

She could barely control her voice as she said, “I’ve been ordered to arrest you.”

“What?”

“Yes.  You, Seven, and Mike Ayala.  I’m supposed to deactivate the Doctor, confiscate his mobile emitter and turn you all in to Starfleet.”

“On what charges?”

“Disobeying orders, vandalism of the Pathfinder lab, and theft of Starfleet property.  They haven’t decided whether or not to charge you with treason, as well.”

“Treason?” Chakotay asked, genuine confusion playing over his features.

“You stole an experimental prototype.  If they determine that you meant to share that technology with one of our enemies, you could be charged with treason.”

“I see.”

Janeway slammed her hand down on her desk and stood, beginning to pace.  “I don’t know how you can be so damned calm, Chakotay.”

“I knew the risk I was taking when I decided to rescue you.”  He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back.

“This is ludicrous.  You saved my life.  The Br’nai kidnapped and experimented on me and no one seems concerned about that.  Instead, Starfleet wants to imprison the people who rescued me.  The Br’nai lied to us, Chakotay, more than once.”  She bit her tongue to keep herself from revealing the last piece of information she had about the Br’nai.  Chakotay was in enough trouble as it was.  “Why doesn’t anyone at Starfleet care?”

He spoke carefully.  “That’s a good question.”

She stopped pacing and turned to look at him.  “You think there’s a reason no one will listen to us?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t think a conspiracy is beyond the realm of possibility, but all we have at this point is a series of strange events: Starfleet’s refusal to investigate your ‘death,’ the unidentified body on Deep Space Nine, the explosion of Sveta’s shuttle after the Paris bombings, the absence of the Br’nai ships at the battle with the Borg due to a convenient technical malfunction, and now orders to arrest the people who put their lives on the line in order to save yours...”

“Hold on, Chakotay,” she said, putting up a hand.  “Are you suggesting that Starfleet is somehow behind this?”

“Nothing so extreme.  There could be just a few people involved - a few people with influence.”

“Why would anyone at Starfleet be involved in a conspiracy against me?”

“I’m not sure.  Jealousy, perhaps.  Maybe I’m way off the mark, but it seems like too many suspicious things have happened recently for it to be a complete coincidence.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting down on the sofa and motioning for him to join her.  “Say you’re right and there is some sort of conspiracy.  To what end?”

“I don’t know,” he responded as he sat down beside her.  “But I think that whatever you do next, you need to be careful.”  She gave him a strange look that prompted him to ask, “What?”

“There’s something else I haven’t told you.  The press is calling me a Borg collaborator because of my alliance with Axum.  How they found out about it so quickly, I don’t know.”

“Another piece of the puzzle.”

“Could the Br’nai be involved in that too?”

“How far do you think their influence goes?”

Janeway shrugged.  “Admiral Paris already told me to watch my back.  What is going on here, Chakotay?”

He leaned towards her.  “Does Admiral Paris think you’re in danger?”

“Not physical danger.  I think he was warning me about my career.”

“He’s the one who ordered you to arrest us?”

Janeway shook her head.  “The orders came from Starfleet Command; Owen was just the messenger.”  She paused as an idea dawned on her.  “You know, Chakotay, I think Owen volunteered to be the messenger to make sure I received the orders as soon as possible.  Maybe he wanted to give us time.”

“Time for what?”  He knew that glint in her eye; she had the beginnings of plan up her sleeve - a plan that was probably risky, most of all to her.  He had a feeling he was not going to like it.

“Time to come up with a little deception of our own.”  She reached out and patted his knee.  “Chakotay, how about a little party tonight, your quarters?  Invite Tom, B’Elanna, Tuvok, and your fellow ‘convicts.’  It’s time to give Starfleet just what they expect.”

The following morning, everything and everyone was in place.  News travelled fast on a ship Voyager’s size.  Most of the crew had already heard the rumors that Admiral Janeway had placed Chakotay, Seven of Nine, Lieutenant Ayala and the EMH under house arrest the night before and that they would be detained in their quarters until the ship reached Earth.

Janeway sat in the Captain’s chair, the seat beside her conspicuously empty.  Chakotay had argued with her over the wisdom of her plan, and she knew she was taking a terrible risk, but it was the only way to protect them from imprisonment - the only way to give her time to figure out what was really going on.  It was 0830 on the dot and everyone on the bridge was attending to their duties, preparing to get underway for Earth, when Tuvok announced, “Security alert on decks three and five.”

Immediately, Janeway stood.  “The prisoners’ quarters?”

Tuvok checked his readings.  “Affirmative.  Seven has used a Borg encryption algorithm to transport the four prisoners to shuttle bay two.”

“Yellow alert,” Janeway ordered.  “Bridge to engineering.  Lock down shuttle bay two.”

“I’m on it, Admiral,” Torres’ voice replied.

Janeway turned to Tuvok.  “Have a security team meet us in shuttle bay two.”

“Tuvok to security.  Meet me in shuttle bay two immediately.”

“Janeway to transporter room.  Beam me and Tuvok directly to shuttle bay two.”

“I’m locked out of the transporters, Admiral.”

Tuvok looked down at his console.  “It appears that Seven disabled them after she transported herself and the others to the shuttle bay.”

“Tuvok, you’re with me.”  Janeway and Tuvok hurried into the turbolift.  “Deck ten.”

When Chakotay, Ayala and the Doctor materialized in the shuttle bay, the ensign who had been manning it lay unconscious on the floor, and Seven was waiting for them.  “Here,” she said, handing phasers to Chakotay and Ayala.  “I’ve locked the shuttle bay doors, but it won’t take security long to break in with a manual override.  It will take me a minute to ready the shuttle for departure.  Stand guard.”  She climbed aboard the Hugh, and the EMH followed her quickly.

Outside the shuttle bay, Janeway and Tuvok had just rendezvoused with the security team and were attempting to open the doors.  Neither Tuvok nor Janeway’s authorization code worked, and Tuvok pried open the panel at the side of the shuttle bay door to initiate manual override.  He forced the doors open, and he and Janeway stepped inside, the security team at their heels.  Without warning, Janeway was grabbed from behind by a figure standing just inside the door.  She felt the tip of a phaser rifle pressed against her temple and smelled the familiar musky aroma of the man who held her hostage.  She was dragged away from the door as Tuvok and the security team cautiously stepped forward, phasers at the ready.

“Don’t come any closer,” Chakotay warned the security team.  She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest as he spoke, and she tried desperately to push down the fear that clawed at her throat.  Tuvok took a step towards Chakotay, and the commander pressed the phaser harder into Janeway’s skull.  She could help but flinch.  “I mean it, Tuvok.  One more step and I’ll kill her.”

One of the security officers stepped forward, and a phaser beam lanced out at him from near the Hugh.  Janeway craned her neck to see Ayala standing there, pointing his weapon at the fallen security guard.  “That was a warning,” Chakotay said.  “The next person who moves will be dead, and Kathryn will die, too.”

Janeway glanced at the security team; they were looking at her with questioning eyes, awaiting her orders.  “Stand down.”  

“Drop your weapons and move away from them,” Chakotay ordered.  “Drop them!”  Janeway nodded to the security team, and they complied, taking a few steps back from their phasers.  “That’s better,” said Chakotay coldly.

Janeway had never heard that tone from her former first officer before.  His voice sounded ruthless and cruel, and she struggled against him.  “Let me go.”

“Not until we’re safely on our way.  I won’t go to prison for saving your life.  It’s not right.”

“Chakotay,” Janeway pleaded, “we can talk this through.  I can appeal the case.  When the facts come to light at your trial...”

“You’ve never really understood the Maquis, have you?  We can put on Starfleet uniforms.  We can cooperate with Starfleet officers.  In the Delta Quadrant, it even worked.  But here, we’ll never be more to Starfleet than common criminals.  You talk about our trial as if it will be fair; it won’t be.  I refuse to be locked up for doing what I know was right, and I won’t allow Mike, Seven, or the Doctor’s freedom to be taken from them because they helped me.”      

“Chakotay!” Seven shouted from inside the Hugh.  Out of the corner of her eye, Janeway saw Ayala begin to creep up the ramp onto the shuttle.

Chakotay cocked his head and took a deep breath, his next words seemingly difficult for him to say.  “It’s about time I remembered who I really am.  I’m sorry, Kathryn.”  Chakotay pushed her roughly towards the security team and ran for the shuttle, turning to fire a shot directly at Janeway.  She crumpled to the ground just as he and Ayala disappeared into the Hugh.  The security team hadn’t even had time to retrieve their weapons from the floor.

“Torres to Janeway,” the voice came over the ship’s intercom.  “Torres to Janeway.”

“This is Tuvok, Lieutenant.”

“Seven broke the lockout.  I can’t stop them from launching the Hugh.”  

At that moment, the ship lifted off and shot out of the shuttle bay, leaving the remaining security guards standing there, stunned.  “Tuvok to bridge.  Target the Hugh’s propulsion systems and fire.”  He knelt beside Janeway’s motionless form.  “Tuvok to sickbay.  Medical emergency in shuttle bay two.”

“On my way,” Davidson acknowledged.

“Paris to Tuvok.  Seven managed to disable our targeting scanners.  We got a couple of shots off, but we were shooting blind, Commander.”  

“Track them,” Tuvok ordered.

“They’ve engaged some sort of cloaking device,” reported Paris.  “We can’t track them.  I’m sorry, Commander.  They’ve gone to transwarp.  They’re gone.”

Chapter Text

15

Risks

“Against every great and noble endeavor are a thousand mediocre minds.”
    -Albert Einstein

Kathryn Janeway awoke with a pounding headache and squinted her eyes against the harsh lights of sickbay.  A familiar figure leaned over her, scanning her with a tricorder.  “How are you feeling, Admiral?”

“I’m fine, Doctor,” she said, slowly forcing herself to sit up.

“Bit of a headache I imagine,” said Davidson.  Janeway nodded, and the doctor pressed a hypospray to her neck.  “Typical for a stun hangover.”

Janeway glanced around sickbay worriedly.  “Tuvok?  The security team?”

“They’re all fine.  Ensign Ko was stunned, same as you.  He’s already been released.”

“Chakotay and the others?”

“Gone, all of them.”

Janeway felt the doctor watching her reaction closely.  “Am I free to go, Doctor?  I’m needed on the bridge.”

“Physically, you’re fine,” Davidson replied, closing her tricorder.

“Are you suggesting that mentally, I’m not?”

“One of your closest friends just shot you at point blank range and the woman who I understand is like a daughter to you just ran off without a trace...  So, yes, I suppose I am.”

“Are you the new ship’s counselor, Dr. Davidson?” Janeway bit out.

The doctor kept her composure, something for which Janeway gave her credit.  “I’m merely looking out for the well-being of the crew, Admiral.”

Kathryn did not have to feign an attempt to rein in her emotions, and under the doctor’s concerned gaze, she let some of her anguish show.  It would help their cover story if Davidson was convinced of the legitimacy of the mutiny.  “I never thought he would do something like this,” she said softly, looking up at the doctor.  “I never thought Chakotay had it in him to betray me.”

Davidson’s compassionate glance told Janeway that she bought the story.  “I’m sorry.”

Her mission accomplished, Janeway allowed the mask of command to slip over her features.  “Thank you.  Will that be all, Doctor?”

“You’re free to go.  If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

Janeway hoisted herself off the biobed.  “Thank you, Doctor.”  She exited sickbay, fairly certain that Davidson would back up her story.  She instinctively liked the older woman; the doctor took on a motherly air around her patients.

“Report, Mr. Paris,” she ordered as she stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge.  Tom filled her in on the Hugh’s escape.  “Is there a way to track them?” she asked.

“We’ve tried,” Andrews replied, “but they masked their ion trail.”

“Very well.  Mr. Paris, plot a course for Earth and engage the slipstream drive.”  Tom affirmed the order, and she retired to her ready room where she contacted Admiral Paris.  

The conversation was not a pleasant one, and even the usually sympathetic admiral was displeased to hear about the mutiny.  “You’re going to fall under a lot of scrutiny, Kathryn,” he warned her, “and I don’t think I’ll be able to protect you.  Public sentiment is leaning heavily against the Maquis, and this charge that you collaborated with the Borg doesn’t bode well for you, either.  This could mean the end of your career.”  Stiffly, Janeway thanked him for his concern and told him she could take care of herself.  After ending the call, she left the bridge in Tuvok’s capable hands and retreated to her quarters.

Once inside, she ordered a cup of coffee and collapsed at her desk, dropping her head into her hands and allowing the day’s events to wash over her.  The entire mutiny had been an elaborately staged deception, of course.  They had agreed that there needed to be witnesses outside the senior staff - hence the security team - and that they had to make it appear absolutely real - hence the necessity to shoot her.  But Chakotay had turned out to be a better actor than she had given him credit for, and now, she couldn’t help but wonder if there had been some truth behind his cutting words.  “You’ve never really understood the Maquis, have you?”  

Kathryn lifted her head from her hands and took a comforting sip of coffee.  She rubbed her fingers over her forehead, willing the remainder of the headache to go away.  She needed to focus on what she was going to say to the board of inquiry she was sure to face upon her return, but she couldn’t get shake the memory of Chakotay’s phaser pressed against her temple.  She had known it was a pretense, but she still hadn’t been able to stop an irrational fear from churning in the pit of her stomach when she heard the coldness in his voice.  At least her genuine distress would help her seem convincing when she appeared before the board of inquiry.

She was worried for Chakotay, Seven, Ayala, and the EMH.  She hoped she’d be able to clear their names, but she feared that in the current climate, the mob wouldn’t be satisfied until they could witness a public hanging.  Janeway was prepared to do anything she could to make sure that her friends weren’t the victims.  She checked her messages, anxiously awaiting one from Quark, hoping that he might somehow be able to link the unknown Bajoran corpse to the explosion of the ship carrying Sveta and the other Maquis.  But there was no message from the Ferengi bartender.

If she couldn’t clear the names of her former crew, Kathryn feared what would happen to them.  Seven might be able to escape with Axum, but the fate of his entire group was equally uncertain.  For all she knew, the Federation would consider the rogue Borg as just as much of a threat as the Collective.  The EMH would likely have his rights revoked and his mobile emitter confiscated, declared Starfleet property.  At worst, his program would be decompiled.  Would Mike Ayala ever see his wife and children again?  Would he once again be separated from them because of her?  Janeway felt guilt boiling within her.

And Chakotay?  What would happen to him?  Would he be forced to live the rest of his life as a fugitive?  He deserved so much better than that.  Would she ever even see him again?  “I’m not giving up, and I’m not just going to let you go,” he had said.  You may not have a choice, Chakotay, she thought in response.  Maybe things just weren’t meant to be that way.  She felt a lump rising in her throat, but she pushed it down, forcing herself to sit up straight.  I won’t allow him to suffer because he did this for me.  I’ll make them see.  Somehow, I’ll make them all see.  

Suddenly, an item on the corner of her desk caught her eye - a folded piece of paper.  Paper?  Who still uses paper?  Her heart rate increased as she reached out and picked up the white slip.  The note was handwritten in the script of a bold, male hand.

Dearest,
    What I had to do and say to you today was hell for me, even as a pretense.  Don’t think for one nanosecond that I meant a word of it.  I promised long ago to stay by your side, and I haven’t forgotten that promise.  I will be waiting for you, and if I do not return to you a free man, you will know where to find me when you need me.  You are not alone, Kathryn.  Never forget that.
    An Angry Warrior

Kathryn stared at the letter in disbelief.  When had he found time to write this, let alone plant it in her quarters?  But it was his hand.  She had seen his writing a few times over the years, and she would recognize it anywhere.  She read it, over and over again, memorizing every word, until she fell asleep at her desk and dreamed of boats and bathtubs and Talaxian tomatoes.

Tension filled the briefing room at Starfleet Command where Nechayev, Henry, Ross, Paris and Patterson sat in the midst of a terse discussion.  “I think you’re going too far, Alynna,” Patterson argued.

“I’m not asking for her resignation,” Nechayev replied pointedly.

“She saved us from the Borg and you’re even talking about her resignation?” Paris asked in disbelief.

“She made an alliance with our worst enemy,” Ross countered.

“We don’t know for sure what happened,” argued Patterson.  “I don’t think we should make any judgments before we hear her side of the story.”

“Ambassador V’tan’s sources have proven extremely reliable,” put in Henry.  “The Br’nai witnessed an alliance between Janeway and the Borg.”

“The Br’nai have not been our most trustworthy allies,” Paris contended.

Ross huffed in annoyance.  “If you’re referring to the incident where Janeway was captured, we already know that was just one crazy man.  We can’t judge their entire government by the actions of one lunatic.”

“That’s not the only incident,” said Paris.  “Two of our ships were destroyed because the Br’nai failed to join the battle against the Borg as they promised.”

“That was a technical malfunction,” Ross snapped.  “They would have...”

“Gentlemen,” Nechayev cut them off.  “The Br’nai are not the subject of our inquiry today.”

“Shouldn’t their trustworthiness have some bearing on this discussion?” asked Patterson.

Nechayev shook her head.  “The fact remains that Admiral Janeway disobeyed a direct order.  It is my opinion that her years alone in the Delta Quadrant have made her impulsive and prone to taking risks.  In light of the fact that her actions helped protect Federation citizens, I will not be asking for her resignation.  However, she must be reined in.  I think that we can at least all agree on that.”  Henry and Ross nodded vigorously.  Paris frowned, and Patterson sat back in his chair, an unhappy expression on his face.  “Please submit your recommendations to me in writing, gentlemen.  I’m meeting with Admiral Janeway in the morning, and I’ll make my final decision then.”

“And the fugitives?” asked Henry.

“We already have several ships out looking for them, scouting out old Maquis hiding places,” Ross replied.  He paused.  “Have you considered the possibility that Janeway might be in on this mutiny?”

Paris looked at Ross incredulously.  “Have you forgotten that she was shot in the process?”

“But not seriously wounded,” pointed out Ross.  “It could have been planned.”

“The security team heard Commander Chakotay threaten to kill her,” Paris replied.  “Besides, how many people on Voyager would have had to be in on that mutiny for it to have been planned in advance?  I certainly hope you’re not suggesting that my son might be involved.”

“Of course not, Admiral Paris,” Ross replied, trying to soothe the other man’s ruffled feathers.

“We will be investigating all possibilities,” Nechayev said, “but the security team on the scene witnessed this mutiny and believed it to be genuine; so did Dr. Davidson.  I think we should operate on that assumption for the moment.  Now, if that’s all?”  She looked around the table and no one seemed to have anything to add.  “Dismissed.”

The admirals filed out of the room, but Patterson hung back.  “Something I can do for you, Admiral Patterson?”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing, Alynna,” he said softly.  “Kathryn Janeway is a celebrated hero.  She has a large following both inside and outside of Starfleet.  I don’t think you want to antagonize her followers.”

“What I want is for vice admirals to follow orders and consult Starfleet Command before making policy decisions,” Nechayev retorted.

“I understand that, but this was a combat situation.  Decisions had to be made in the heat of the moment to protect the Federation.  I’ve known Katie for a long time, and I think you should hear her out before you make your final decision.”

“I know you have a soft spot for her, Teddy, but we can’t let our personal feelings get in the way at a time like this.  I promise to take what you’ve said under advisement.”  Nechayev gestured to the door and Patterson exited the briefing room.  As she followed him, a voice from behind her in the corridor caught her attention.

“Admiral Nechayev?”

She turned to see who had called her name.  “Councilwoman Baines, what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping I could have a minute of your time, Admiral.  There’s something we need to discuss.”

“Of course, Councilwoman.  Step into my office.”

Although the interior of Axum’s cube bore little resemblance to a cube controlled by the Collective, Chakotay found that being inside of it gave him the willies.  The Borg on board were autonomous, had names, and had developed a command structure, but the glowing green lights still gave everything an eerie hue, and the clicking of Borg implants served as a constant reminder of the ship’s origin.  Chakotay had to remind himself to relax every time he heard the shuffling of Borg feet.

Following their “mutiny,” he and the others had rendezvoused with Axum and his group; they had to remain where Starfleet would be unable to find them, at least until the situation could be resolved.  If Kathryn could clear their names, she would contact them, and they could return freely.  If she couldn’t...  Well, they hadn’t discussed that much, but Chakotay had his own ideas about what to do in that case.  

He sat in the makeshift briefing room Axum had created, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  It had been a long time since he had been a free agent, and the sensation was both liberating and disturbing.  He had grown used to being part of Starfleet and had just started to believe that he and Kathryn might be able to have something more than just friendship, but the ground had shifted under his feet once again.  He was resolved not to let Kathryn take the fall for him and the others.  How he was going to stop her, he didn’t know, but he did know that he needed to be close to her, able to keep on eye on her, so that he would know if she needed him.  

He snapped his head around as he heard the shuffle of Borg feet.  “It’s just me, Commander Chakotay,” said Axum.  He was followed by Isha and Korok.  Seven, Ayala, and the Doctor were close behind them.

“Good to see you again, Commander,” Korok greeted him with a smile.

“And you, Korok.  Once again, we’re in your debt.”

“You fought like true warriors,” the Klingon drone replied.  “I was impressed that there was anything left of your fleet by the time we arrived.”

Axum cleared his throat loudly and everyone took a seat.  “I’ve spoken to Isha and Korok, and we’ll be glad to take you all with us.  I can’t promise much in the way of comfort, but you won’t go hungry, and we’ll do everything in our power to make sure that you don’t fall into Federation hands.”

Although they were no longer in a command structure, the others looked expectantly at Chakotay, deferring to his judgment.  “Thank you, Axum.  We appreciate your offer.”  He looked at Seven, Ayala and the Doctor.  “I’m not your commanding officer anymore.  You’re all free to do as you wish.”

“Surely, Admiral Janeway will be able to set the record straight,” said the EMH.

“I hope so, Doctor, but it’s possible that she won’t be able to.  In the meantime, I think we should keep a low profile.”

“Staying with Axum would be an effective method of doing so,” Seven pointed out.

“Agreed,” said Chakotay, “and you are all welcome to take Axum up on his generous offer.”

“But you’re not going to,” Ayala observed.

Chakotay pursed his lips together, a worried expression crossing his features.  “I have some other... business... to attend to, but it’s something that I need to handle alone.”

Seven inclined her head, watching him carefully.  “I would like to remain here.”

Chakotay nodded.  “I thought you would.  If we’re able to return to the Federation, we can contact you.”

“I would also like to remain here,” said the Doctor.  “Axum has asked me to help him and the others remove their implants.  I think that my expertise in that area makes me the perfect man for the job.”

“Thank you, Doctor.  Your assistance will be invaluable,” said Isha.

Chakotay looked at Ayala, who appeared lost in thought.  He knew better than to press his old friend for a decision, so instead he turned to Axum.  “Where will you go?”

“If Admiral Janeway is able to secure a hearing for us regarding an alliance, I don’t want to be more than a day away via transwarp.  I think we’ll head towards the Zeta Gelis Cluster.  We’ll be out of reach of the Federation there.”

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Chakotay said.  “Do you have a ship I could borrow?”

Axum glanced at Korok.  “What do you think?”

Korok nodded.  “We have several old shuttles, Commander.  You can choose whichever one you like.  When do you want to depart?”

“As soon as I can.  It’s going to take me long enough to reach Earth as it is.”

“All right,” said Axum.  “Seven will take you to the shuttle bay and you can choose a ship.”

“Thank you.”

“Safe journey, Commander,” Axum said.  “Perhaps when we meet again it will be as allies.”

“We are allies, Axum - you, your group, the Voyager crew.  We have been ever since Unimatrix Zero.  Don’t forget that.”

Axum bowed his head, touched.  “Thank you, Commander.” 

Chakotay nodded and the drones filed out of the conference room.  The Doctor looked at Chakotay with a sad expression and then turned to leave the room as well, Seven behind him.  Chakotay was just rising from his chair when Ayala said, “I’m coming with you.”

Chakotay shook his head.  “You’ll be safer here.  I don’t even know where I’m going yet.”

“Bullshit,” Ayala replied pointedly.  “There aren’t many places you can go.”

“What do you mean?” Chakotay asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Our old Maquis hiding spots - the ones the Feds never found - are pretty much your only option.  Without transwarp or slipstream drive, where else can you go that Starfleet won’t find you?”

“Mike, you have a wife and kids to think about.  I’ve got to make sure you get back to them in one piece.  We’re not in the Maquis anymore.”

“Damn straight.  And you’re not my captain or my commanding officer, so I can do whatever the hell I want.  I’m not letting you do this alone, boss.”

Chakotay sighed, realizing that he wouldn’t be able to change Mike’s mind.  “Okay.  And you’re right.  One of our old spots will work well.  But I have something else I have to do first.”

Mike eyed him with curiosity.  “Okay.”  The two men stood from the table and exited the room, and Ayala reached out and clapped Chakotay on the shoulder.  “It’ll be just like old times.  You and me against the world.”  Chakotay couldn’t help but smile, appreciative of Ayala’s efforts to cheer him, but deep down, he was filled with worry for all of them.

Outside the door of the conference room, Seven was waiting for him.  She looked at him expectantly and Chakotay said, “Go on ahead, Mike.  I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay, boss.  Don’t even think about leaving without me.”  Chakotay gave Ayala a mock salute, and the younger man disappeared down a corridor.

“Boss?” Seven queried.

“An old nickname,” Chakotay replied.

“I see.  I will take you to the shuttle bay.”  She led him down the corridor towards another part of the cube.  “Lieutenant Ayala is going to accompany you?”

“Yes.”

“Where will you go?”      

“I’m not sure yet,” he hedged, “but I’m going to need some communications equipment.  Do you think you can supply me with that?”

Seven cocked her head.  “Give me your specifications and I will ensure that they are met.”  

They arrived at the makeshift shuttle bay.  There were five small ships, each in various states of disrepair and from a variety of different cultures, some Chakotay recognized and some that he didn’t.  He and Seven examined each ship closely, stepping inside, running systems checks and assessing necessary repairs.  After the better part of an hour, Chakotay stopped in front of one of the shuttles.  “I think this is the best one of the lot.”  It was a Voth ship that had undergone heavy damage, but its technology was the most advanced of all the vessels.  He and Mike could probably have it repaired in three days - less with Seven’s help.

“This vessel is heavily damaged.”

“But it’s the best ship here.  If we repair it, its propulsion and weapons systems will outdo all the others.”

Seven stood there for a moment, looking first at the shuttle and then at Chakotay.  She felt a deep affection and protectiveness towards him, even though she had never regretted terminating their romantic liaison.  She turned to him and said, “You will take the Hugh.”

“Seven,” he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I can’t do that.  That ship is yours; you created it.  Besides, you might need it.”

“We have plenty of time to repair these shuttles should we need them.  Your mission is more urgent.”

“Seven...”

“You must comply,” she said seriously, although one corner of her mouth lifted in a partial smile, acknowledging the humor of her use of the Borg phrase.

He inclined his head and studied her for a moment.  “Okay.  I will comply.”

She regarded him earnestly.  “Admiral Janeway never abandoned me in the Delta Quadrant or when Voyager returned.  It is likely that she will require assistance, and you will be more equipped to offer it in the best ship we have.”

“She would be proud of you, Seven.”

“I’m sure she can tell me herself when we are together again.”

Chakotay was hit with the realization that there was a very real chance he would never see Seven again, not if things didn’t go well for Kathryn at Starfleet Command.  On impulse, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.  “Peace in your heart, fortune in your steps.  It’s an ancient blessing from my people.  Be happy, Seven.  I wish you and Axum the best.”

She looked at him closely, seeming to know his thoughts.  “Kathryn Janeway has beaten the odds many times, Chakotay, and so have you.  I will see you again - both of you.”

Chakotay shook his head in wonderment as he looked at her.  When had she grown to have this kind of faith?  Kathryn would be so proud.  Before he could find words to express his conflicting emotions, the shuttle bay doors opened and Ayala stepped through.  “You found us a ship, boss?”

Chakotay’s eyes remained locked with Seven’s.  “I hope you’re right,” he said softly.  Then he steeled himself and turned away.  “Mike, we’re taking the Hugh.  Come on.”

It had been nearly a week since Voyager had returned to Earth after the battle with the Borg.  They had barely docked when Janeway was called before a board of inquiry, and seven days later, she was still fuming.  Nechayev wanted her to take a desk job where she’d be relegated to paper-pushing in a back office somewhere.  According to Nechayev, she was too unpredictable and headstrong to be working in the field, and she needed to be “reined in.”  Just thinking about her conversation with the other admiral made her walk faster in anger.  

“You disobeyed a direct order.”

“I had very little choice under the circumstances,” Janeway replied, trying to control her temper.

“You had every choice, Admiral.  You could have followed my orders and pulled back to the Federation border.”

“And left the Br’nai as the first line of defense?  How many worlds would have been assimilated under those circumstances?  How many lives would have been lost?”

“Lives have already been lost.  Or have you forgotten the Ajax and the Pueblo?”

Janeway’s grey-blue eyes flashed.  “Rest assured, Admiral Nechayev, I have not forgotten.”

“If you had followed my orders, the entire Federation fleet would have been ready to hold the line in the event that the Br’nai failed.”

“What makes you think the Br’nai ever intended to succeed?”

Nechayev gritted her teeth.  “The Br’nai are our allies.  Who’s to say what would have happened if you hadn’t been there showboating?”

“Showboating?” Janeway asked in a dangerous tone.  

“You made a fool of all of us, Kathryn.  The Federation Council wants to know why we didn’t have stronger backup measures in place.  We’ve tried to keep the whole thing quiet, but we can’t keep it out of the media entirely, and some reporters are starting to question Starfleet’s competence, not to mention the wisdom of our alliance with the Br’nai.  We can’t afford to lose the Br’nai’s friendship, but you’ve put our alliance in jeopardy with your cavalier attitude.”

“Don’t you think our alliance has been in jeopardy ever since the Br’nai kidnapped and tortured me?”

“Playing the victim doesn’t become you, Kathryn.  Dr. M’hel has been punished for his crimes and the Br’nai have apologized.  We can’t ask for any more than that.  I, on the other hand, expect a great deal more from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You put your personal suspicions ahead of everyone’s welfare.  You disobeyed a direct order to satisfy your own whims, and now I’m losing face as a result.”

Janeway spoke through clenched teeth.  “Just what is it you expect of me, Admiral Nechayev?”

“I expect you to follow orders!  I expect you not to place your own judgment ahead of Starfleet Command’s, and I expect you to stop this grandstanding before it goes any further.  I don’t appreciate you using the devotion of your ‘fans’ to engender sympathy for your cause.   Starfleet Command has been humiliated by your actions.”

Nechayev’s words had stung.  Kathryn had done everything in her power to save Starfleet and protect the Federation, but now she was being accused of hurting the organization she loved most.  Finally, Nechayev had suggested that she take two weeks off to reconsider taking the desk job.  Kathryn recognized the “suggestion” for what it was - a thinly veiled order, so she had spent most of the week in Indiana with her mother, and Phoebe and her family.  Although Kathryn cherished her time with them, she knew that both her mother and sister could tell that she was deeply troubled.  She had told them little about her imprisonment on Br’nai - only that she was fine and that there had been no life threatening damage done.  She didn’t have the heart to tell her mother that there would be no more Janeway grandchildren, and Phoebe was busy with her own family.  Kathryn didn’t want to give her sister any more to worry about.    

She was waiting for word from Quark, but, so far, none had come.  She had heard nothing from Chakotay, either, and wondered at his silence.  She read his letter over and over again, as though it was her only solid hold while her feet floundered in quicksand.  She had been tempted to search for him, but she suspected that she was being carefully watched for just such behavior, so she made no attempt to contact him or to decipher his whereabouts.  He had promised to be there when she needed him; she had to believe that he would keep that promise.

The way she saw it, she had two things to prove.  The first was her own competence, the second, the innocence of Chakotay and the others.  They had stolen the Hugh and disobeyed orders, but if she could prove their actions were justified and shift the blame elsewhere, the Federation Council might lessen the charges against them or drop them completely.  If she could prove that the Br’nai were not, in fact, Federation allies, the Council would have much bigger problems to deal with than a couple officers who had “borrowed” a prototype ship.  

Ambassador V’tan maintained that M’hel had been taken care of, and while Kathryn had her doubts, she couldn’t prove them, so she couldn’t raise her own imprisonment as the main issue.  However, the Br’nai had vowed to assist Starfleet against a Borg invasion, and they had not delivered on that promise.  Kathryn clutched a PADD in her hand as she walked.  It was her trump card - a risky one to play, and she hoped it would be worth it.

For the first time in a week, Janeway stepped onto Starfleet grounds and walked to Patterson’s office.  She had known Theoderich Patterson all her life.  He had been a friend of her father’s when she was a child, and, later, he’d taught her at the Academy.  If there was anyone who would help her, it was he.  She’d thought of going to Owen, but she wanted to leave his family out of this mess if she could.  Tom and B’Elanna had enough black marks against them because of their past association with the Maquis.

When she entered Patterson’s office, he regarded her sternly.  “What is the sequence of data needed to analyze a subspace infrared algorithm?”

“Zeta particle derivation.  Gamma wave frequency.  Ion distribution.  Flow rate of positrons.”  

This had become a tradition between them; each time they saw each other, Patterson would begin with a pop quiz before he enfolded her in a warm hug.  “How are you doing, Katie?” he asked as he held her at arm’s length.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she replied, forcing a smile.

But Teddy could see right through her brave front.  “Let’s take a walk.”  He told his aide he’d be back in an hour, and they exited his office.  As they walked out onto the lawn, Patterson sighed heavily.  “Things are changing, Katie.  It’s enough to make an old man like me feel out of date.”

“Starfleet needs people like you,” Janeway countered, “people who aren’t scared stiff, people who are willing to uphold Federation principles...”  She trailed off, her emotions rising quickly to the surface.

Patterson glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  “How are you really, Katie?”

“Not so good.”  They walked on in silence as he waited for her to continue, sensing she had more to say.  “The Br’nai are not our allies.  I know what their ambassador said about Dr. M’hel being a lone renegade, but Chakotay and I were there.  We saw his facilities.  There’s no way he could run that operation without the knowledge of their government.”

“Maybe so, but we can’t interfere in their justice system.  The Prime Directive.  You know that.”

“They imprisoned and tortured me and Chakotay.  Surely that warrants further investigation.”

“I agree with you,” Patterson admitted.  “There’s something about this whole Br’nai situation that hasn’t sat right with me from the beginning.  But it’s not up to me.  I’ve voiced my opinion and I’ve been outgunned.  Many times.  I don’t know what else I can do.  In fact, I’ve been thinking it might be time to retire.”

“No!” Janeway blurted out.  Then, catching herself in the outburst, she lowered her voice.  “Admiral, Starfleet needs you.  I need your help.”

“I wish I could help you, but I don’t know what I can do.”

“What if you had proof that the Br’nai avoided the battle with the Borg intentionally?”

Patterson stopped dead in his tracks.  “What?”  Wordlessly, Janeway handed him the PADD and watched as he read it, eyes widening.  “Where did you get this?”

“I can’t tell you that.  But I can promise you it’s genuine.”  Janeway knew that if she revealed her source to anyone, even someone she trusted as much as Patterson, that Seven’s entire future would be put in jeopardy.  There was already enough animosity towards her due to her past association with the Borg.  There was no way Starfleet would overlook her creation and use of the Hugh’s illegal multi-adaptive shields.

Patterson looked at her seriously.  “How can you be sure?”

“I know the source is credible.”

He looked down at the PADD again.  “This is the most damning evidence of the Br’nai we’ve seen.  If their fleet’s absence from the battle was premeditated...”

“Then they set us up to be assimilated,” Kathryn finished for him.  “Which means...”

“Either the Br’nai are in league with the Borg themselves, or they think that they can defeat them once we’ve been assimilated.”  Janeway nodded.  “Why didn’t you bring this to us before?”

“I won’t divulge my source.  I was hoping Starfleet would be a little more inquisitive about what happened, but the climate at that review board...  Honestly, I didn’t think they’d listen.”

“They still won’t like it.  If we bring this to the admiralty, they’ll want to know where you got it.  They’ll want to confirm it before they publicly accuse the Br’nai of anything.  There are a lot of people who don’t want to offend Ambassador V’tan.”

“Why?  Why is he so important?”

Patterson shook his head, worry creasing his brow.  “I’m not sure.  But Admiral Ross is a staunch supporter of his.  Admiral Henry, too.  And he has very powerful friends on the Federation Council.  No one wants to antagonize the Council, not if they want to be Defense Secretary someday.”

“We can’t sacrifice our principles to our politics.”

“Unfortunately, that’s what most people are concerned about - promotions, favors, alliances.  This kind of evidence won’t play into anybody’s hand.”

“Surely you and I aren’t the only admirals left in Starfleet who are willing to make sacrifices for our principles.”

“No, there are a few others - Owen Paris, Margaret Blackwell.  Admiral T’lara would listen to you if she were here and not on Romulus.  I actually think that Alynna’s heart is in the right place, but once she has an idea in her mind, it’s hard to for anyone to change it.”

The pair stopped and sat down on a park bench as they watched the bustle of Starfleet uniforms pass them.  “What do you think I should do?” Janeway asked.

Patterson studied the PADD again before replying.  “If you’re absolutely certain this data is genuine, I think you should bring it to the admiralty.  But you have to know you’ll be taking a huge risk.  I’ll support you, and you can likely count on Owen, too, and Margaret, if I can get her involved.  But there will be lots of questions, and if it comes down to a confrontation with the ambassador, you’re the one who’ll be thrown to the wolves.”

Janeway thought for a moment, her eyes unfocused.  Finally, she said, “Finding out the truth about the Br’nai is more important than my career.  The safety of the entire Federation could be at stake.  It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“All right, Katie.  I’ll set up the meeting.”

Chapter Text

16

The Belly of the Beast

“Then I stood on the sand of the sea.  And I saw a beast rising up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and on his horns ten crowns, and on his heads a blasphemous name.”
    -Revelation 13:1

Droplets of water fell from a crack in an ancient, rusted pipe, marking the passage of time in a consistent rhythm - drip, drop, drip, drop.  The brownish liquid trickled onto a set of antique iron rails which crumbled, slowly decaying after hundreds of years of disuse.  A rat skittered across the tracks boldly but suddenly stopped as a bright light approached.  The creature had never seen such a harsh glow before, and, terrified, it ran into a hole, retreating into the safety of the darkness.

The light shone down the long tunnel, illuminating crimson rust on the corroded tracks and the cracks that permeated the concrete cross ties.  The beam wandered over the walls of the tunnel, exposing ancient paintings - long, bold strokes whose colors had faded over the years.  They depicted undecipherable letters that had identified gangs of another time.  Some portrayed distorted faces or landscapes.  After glancing over the walls, the light returned to the tracks and footsteps advanced, their owner unable to see in the dark like the rats.

The burden of carrying extra weight made the footsteps heavy, and the heat of the unventilated tunnels caused a bead of sweat to drip from the intruder’s nose.  It fell to the tracks, mingling with a pool of rusty water.  Finally, the beam lighted upon its intended target.  A dilapidated structure, about ten meters long and three meters wide, rested, abandoned, on the tracks.  It sat at a slight angle; some of its wheels had decayed beyond repair long ago.  It had once carried thousands of people every day, transporting them wherever they needed to go in the Bay area.  When its technology had become obsolete, the subway car had been forgotten in the tunnels beneath the city.

The intruder approached the car and reached up with two hands to pry open the metal doors.  He insinuated his fingers into a small crack between them and pushed them apart with a groan.  The metal creaked loudly, protesting after so many years of immobility.  The lone human figure hoisted himself into the car and shined the light on his wrist inside.  A few seats lined the sides of the car, but most had been removed by pillagers.  The car smelled stale and moldy, and remnants of garbage lay strewn on the floor, evidence of the structure’s former inhabitants.  During the Third World War, many had retreated underground and made the old subway their home rather than remaining a part of an outside world which they detested.

It had been his study of World War III history that had led Chakotay to discover this car during a research project he had conducted as a cadet at the Academy.  Underground movements had always fascinated him, and the society that had formed in San Francisco during the Third World War had been underground both figuratively and literally.  The city had shut down the subway system early in the war due to the danger of terrorist bombs.  A year or two later, prominent citizens had begun to disappear, particularly those who didn’t support the war.  No one had known what had happened to them until many years later, when some of their descendants emerged from the tunnels, curious about the outside world.  By that time, Zephram Cochrane had made his warp flight and the world had changed for the better.

Chakotay had done his junior thesis on the underground movement and had spent a great deal of time in the tunnels doing anthropological research.  He had found several abandoned subway cars where people had obviously lived, but most had been barely recognizable after years of decay.  At the end of his final day of research, he had taken a wrong turn on his way to the rendezvous point with his advisor, and there it had been, right in front of him: the subway car, completely in tact.  There was no time to do research or collect data, and at 18, Chakotay had felt his discovery was too precious to share with anyone.  His young imagination had pictured all sorts of dramatic scenarios where he would need a secret hideout, and he had never told anyone about the old car.  In time, he had forgotten about those youthful fantasies although he had never forgotten his discovery or its location.  He had thought someday he’d come back to study it, perhaps even write a book on the underground culture of the Third World War.  He didn’t think he’d actually be using the car as a hiding place, but here he was.

His wrist light served as his only illumination, so he set up the two stationary beacons he had brought and then unpacked the rest of his equipment.  Axum had leant him a communications console which the Borg had obtained from a race Chakotay had never heard of.  The console was small but heavy to carry through the hot tunnels, and Chakotay was glad to set it down.  The temperature in the car was higher than he had anticipated, and he removed his vest, clad only in brown trousers and a loose, white cotton shirt.  After he was satisfied that the communications console was functioning, he set up the portable replicator.  It was one of Seven’s inventions - a small, rectangular box, easily carried, capable of replicating minimal items like food and drink.  She had kept it aboard the Hugh for away missions such as these, where one risked being without access to food or water for extended periods of time.  The power cell had a limited life, so he would have to use it sparingly.  He replicated some water and drank, the cool liquid easing his parched throat.

Ayala remained aboard the Hugh, waiting for Chakotay’s signal.  They had used an old Maquis trick to beam Chakotay down to Earth, piggybacking his transporter signal on an authorized transport to avoid detection.  The Hugh was not in orbit; even with the multi-adaptive shields, there was too great a risk of the ship being discovered.  But Ayala was close enough to receive Chakotay’s signal and return to Earth within minutes.  Chakotay fingered the small signal beacon in his pocket.  He had much to do before he could use it.

He cleared off an area of the floor, kicking dirt and garbage to the side, and laid down a Starfleet issue sleeping bag.  He wouldn’t need the bag for warmth, but he would be grateful for the clean surface.  He sat, cross legged, on the blanket and activated the communications console.  Seven had equipped it with a series of complex Borg decryption algorithms that would allow him to tap into Starfleet’s communications network as well as other official channels.  He programmed the device to scan for key words and phrases and began to review Starfleet’s communications logs from the past few days.

It had been seven days since his “mutiny” and he could only hope that Kathryn had received his letter.  She had tried to hide it, but there had been no mistaking the hurt in her eyes the moment before he shot her.  He’d had to make their little show believable, but he worried that perhaps he’d been too convincing.  When the Hugh had arrived at Earth, it had taken all his self-control not to beam directly to her apartment and whisk her away to one of his old Maquis hiding places.  But he knew now was not the time.  If anyone could set things right with Starfleet, she could.  She’d gotten them all pardoned on Voyager’s return; she might be able to do it again.  If she couldn’t, he intended to be right there by her side.

He found Starfleet logs of Voyager’s return from Br’nai, Kathryn’s report on the mutiny, and many news stories speculating on Janeway’s true loyalty.  For a woman who had sacrificed everything to maintain Starfleet principles for seven years in the Delta Quadrant, those accusations must hurt, he thought.  He knew that Kathryn could take care of herself, but his heart ached for her.  She had already lost so much.  He burned with anger as he remembered the night she had sobbed in his arms, revealing the news the Doctor had given her after M’hel’s experiments.  

Someday, he would make those Br’nai bastards pay for what they had done.  But for now, he had only to watch and wait.  He felt the sweat trickle down his neck as he sifted through more communications logs.  On the tracks outside, a large rodent looked curiously at the lighted windows of the car and then scurried away into the darkness, avoiding the large, unfamiliar creature that had invaded its home.

As Emperor Ch’a’fen read the official report on Voyager’s mutiny, his heart went out to Admiral Janeway.  He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be betrayed by someone who had advised and supported you for years.  V’tan’s dislike for the admiral was strong, but Ch’a’fen had felt an affinity for her, and the news about the mutiny caused a swell of compassion within his heart.  

He thought back to his last conversation with V’tan, and his discomfort over M’hel’s lack of punishment resurfaced.  When he was alone and able to think clearly, Ch’a’fen was disturbed by the fact that M’hel was still operating freely in his lab.  But somehow, when he spoke to V’tan about it, all his doubts seemed to vanish.  He wished he could hold onto that certainty all the time, but everything seemed so much simpler in V’tan’s presence.

Tapping his fingers on his desk, the emperor looked at another report - an unofficial one.  He made it a point to keep appraised of rumors that were circulating in his domain among the media and other independent news sources.  One thing he had learned from the rebellion that he and V’tan had led was that official reports weren’t always the best way to find out the truth.  Something in this report had been bothering him, and even though he knew it was unsubstantiated, he had to contact V’tan about it.  He had to know the truth.  He placed a call on their private channel.  “V’tan.”  His unease dissipated as soon as he saw his friend’s face.

“Hello, my friend.  How are things on our great home world?”

“Everything is fine, here, V’tan.  I was just reading reports.  How goes it with you?”

V’tan smiled.  “Very well.  Soon I’ll have the entire Federation eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“I thought what we wanted was cooperation.  Are you sure...”

“A figure of speech my dear Emperor, a figure of speech.  Now tell me what’s troubling you.”

“I read the report of the Maquis mutiny.”

“Yes.  It seems that Admiral Janeway’s friends are traitors after all.”

“I feel terrible for her, Tan.  Can you imagine, being betrayed by your closest friend?”

V’tan laughed.  “Really, Fen.  You should know better than to let yourself get emotionally involved in Starfleet affairs.  They’re none of our concern.  Besides, having Admiral Janeway and her people out of my way will make it easier for us to achieve our goal.  She doesn’t like the Br’nai.  Neither did that Maquis commander of hers.  I’m telling you, Fen.  They have something against me - against us, against our people.  We’re better off with them out of the way.”

Ch’a’fen opened his mouth to protest, to voice a dissenting opinion, but the words evaporated from his lips before he could utter them.  Instead, he felt a calm certainty settle over him.  “Of course, V’tan.  You’re right.”

“Now, that can’t have been the only thing troubling you.  Come on, out with it.”

Ch’a’fen cleared his throat uncomfortably, suddenly feeling as though he were about fourteen years old again.  “Tan, that malfunction in the launching system - the one that kept us away from the battle with the Borg - it was really a malfunction, wasn’t it?”

The ambassador’s eyes widened.  “Of course it was.  What are you suggesting?”

“Well, I heard a rumor...”

“Fen!” V’tan cut him off with mocking laughter.  “A rumor?  What sort of rumor?”

Ch’a’fen suddenly felt very silly.  “A rumor that it was sabotage,” he mumbled.

V’tan laughed harder.  “What a ridiculous notion.  Who would sabotage our launching system and why?”

“I don’t know, V’tan.  But if you knew that something was wrong, you would tell me, right?”  Ch’a’fen peered at the screen intently.  “You wouldn’t keep something like that from me?”

“Of course not, my friend.  What makes you think that I would?”

“You lied about M’hel to the Federation.”

V’tan looked away from the screen so that the emperor would not see him roll his eyes.  “Fen, I lied to the Federation because they would not understand,” he said, trying to keep the exasperation from his tone.  “I’ve told you before; they are aliens who believe that their own way is the only way.  They are arrogant and shortsighted.  I cannot tell them the truth; they would try to stop our project and our alliance with them would be ruined.  That’s not what you want, is it?”

“No, of course not.”

“On the other hand, you are my trusted friend.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in advance what I planned to do.  It was an oversight.  It won’t happen again.”

Ch’a’fen frowned.  “I hope not.”  Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  There was something he was missing.

“Fen, listen to me,” V’tan said soothingly.  “You have to trust me.  We have worked too hard for too long to let mistrust between us get in the way now.”

“I trust you,” Ch’a’fen echoed.

“Soon, we will be the leaders of a quadrant we only imagined as children - one where peace and justice reign - our justice, Ch’a’fen, yours and mine.  We will decide who lives and who dies.  We will see that judgment is meted out, a punishment for every crime.  The lives of every creature in the galaxy in my - our - hands.  Just picture it.”

The images rose in the emperor’s mind and he smiled dreamily.  “Yes,” he whispered, “a galaxy where peace and justice reign, where all people cooperate with each other, where each individual is permitted to attain his true potential with no one to stop him.”

“We are creating it, Ch’a’fen.  You and me.  You will have what you’ve always dreamed of.  You just need to trust me and do as I ask.”

“I do, V’tan.  I will do whatever you say.”

“You may come in, Admiral Janeway,” said the ensign standing outside the conference room.  Kathryn took a deep breath and entered.  She and Patterson had presented Seven’s evidence on the Br’nai to a panel of admirals four days earlier.  It had been a narrow margin, but three of the five admirals had agreed that the matter warranted further investigation.  Kathryn knew that this was only because Patterson had stacked the panel with himself, Owen Paris, and Margaret Blackwell.  Ross and Henry had been the dissenting votes.  Nechayev had reviewed the panel’s findings and said nothing.  But when Kathryn entered the room and saw Alynna at the head of the conference table, her opinion was evident from the scowl on her face.  

Today’s panel consisted of several admirals: Nechayev, Ross, Patterson, Paris, and Henry, as well as a few members of the Federation Council.  Next to Nechayev sat a tall alien with silver eyes and a distinctive dark strip that ran from the tip of his nose to the line of his dark hair.  Janeway recognized him as the Br’nai ambassador, V’tan.  He regarded her with a cold indifference that sent shivers down her spine, and suddenly, she had a very bad feeling about this meeting.

“This is Ambassador V’tan, Councilman Thelos of Andoria, the Grazerite Councilman Koresh-Inya, and Councilwoman Lilith Baines of Earth,” Nechayev introduced them.  Baines seemed to be regarding Kathryn with disdain, but Janeway offered a polite smile as Nechayev continued, “This is Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway.”

The ambassador rose and shook her hand.  “Admiral Janeway.  I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador,” she said, smiling though his gaze chilled her to the bone.  She gave a nod to the Federation Council members and took her seat.

“Well, Admiral,” began Thelos, “what is the purpose of this meeting?”

Janeway rose and moved to one of the conference room’s display monitors where she called up the readings from the Hugh.  “I am here to prove that the Br’nai purposefully abandoned us to the Borg.  They never intended to come to our aide or to defend the Federation.  I have evidence to support this accusation.  This data, taken from a ship in orbit around Br’nai, proves that there was no equipment malfunction as the ambassador claims.  The Br’nai abandoned us to the Borg and caused hundreds of Starfleet and Klingon casualties.”  She glanced at V’tan, expecting an indignant outburst, but none came.

“This clearly violates the terms of our alliance with the Br’nai,” said Admiral Paris.

“Where did you get this data, Admiral Janeway?” asked Councilwoman Baines.

“My source wishes to remain anonymous.”

“Why is that?” asked Patterson, already knowing the answer to his question.

“Divulging my source’s identity could endanger more lives,” Janeway replied, taking her chair again.

“Something we hope to avoid,” added Paris, picking up on Teddy’s attempt to steer the conversation in Janeway’s favor.

Lilith Baines derailed them.  “Admiral, we are not a news service.  We don’t have the luxury of anonymous sources.”

“We have to confirm the evidence,” agreed Thelos.

“I assure you, the data is credible,” Janeway replied.

“Perhaps.”  V’tan finally spoke.

“Perhaps?” Janeway responded.  “Are you suggesting that the data is false?  What motive could I possibly have for inventing these readings?”

“Perhaps your source is not as credible as you believe,” V’tan suggested.  “Or perhaps you seek revenge for your imprisonment by discrediting the entire Br’nai race.  I would not presume to know.”

“I’m not looking for revenge,” Janeway insisted.  “I’m looking for the truth.”

“Are you sure about that, Admiral?  We all know what Dr. M’hel did to you.”  Something about the way he said it made Janeway’s eyes snap up to the Br’nai ambassador’s face.  Was she imagining it, or was he leering at her, taunting her?  What exactly did he know about what M’hel had done to her?

“Besides, if you are looking for the truth, why not reveal the source of your information?” asked Baines.

“I told you.  It would endanger more lives.”

“Perhaps.”  Again, the ambassador planted the seed of doubt.  “Perhaps you are humiliated by the loss of so many Federation lives to the Borg, but rather than take responsibility for the destruction of the vessels under your command, you seek to shift the blame to us.”

Janeway fought to control her temper.  “Ambassador, with all due respect, I am not the one who refuses to take responsibility for lives lost.  It was the Federation Council that ordered the fleet to return to the Federation border, and I believe it was you yourself who promised that the Br’nai would join us on the first line of defense against the Borg.”

“The ambassador has explained to the Federation Council about the malfunction of their launch pad, and we have received a formal apology from his government,” Baines jumped in.  “You can’t accuse him of not taking responsibility.”

“An apology won’t bring back the crew of the Ajax,” Janeway retorted.  She gestured at the screen.  “This data deserves an explanation.”

Baines looked like she was about to cut in again but V’tan held up a finger to stop her.  “Very well, Admiral,” he said.  “I’ll give you an explanation.”  He paused dramatically as everyone in the room held their breath.  “The explanation is simple.  Your data is fabricated.”  A small gasp emerged from Koresh-Inya.

“Are you accusing Admiral Janeway of purposefully falsifying this information?” Paris asked, a hard edge to his voice.

“Not necessarily.  Perhaps she accepted it in good faith from a source that isn’t as trustworthy as she believes.  Someone like a former Borg, perhaps?  Or a member of the Maquis?  Perhaps from the Borg drones she allies herself with?  We all know that Admiral Janeway consorts with dubious persons.”  Before Janeway could respond, V’tan pulled a data chip out of a pocket hidden somewhere beneath his long, black robe.  “If I may?”  Nechayev gestured to the screen, and the ambassador downloaded the material for everyone to see.  The monitor showed a full readout of the Br’nai launch pad, stamped with the date and time of the Borg attack.  The display showed a clear malfunction.

“Well,” said Lilith, “that proves it.”

“Not necessarily,” argued Patterson.  “It only proves that one set of data is counterfeit - either the admiral’s or the ambassador’s.”

“Admiral Janeway claims her data came from a ship in orbit around Br’nai at the time of the malfunction.  As far as our sensors could tell, there was no ship in orbit around Br’nai at that time.”  V’tan narrowed his eyes.  “Unless your ship was using some kind of an illegal cloaking device.”  He looked at her pointedly, but Janeway refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“We could analyze both sets of data,” suggested Paris.

“No,” V’tan and Janeway replied at the same moment.  Their eyes met and they looked at each other suspiciously across the room.  The ambassador held her gaze as he moved back to his chair.

“A close analysis of my data might reveal where it came from,” explained Janeway, “and I refuse to endanger the life of my source.”

“I find your suggestion that I would fabricate such readings insulting,” said V’tan.  “On my world, those in positions of authority are treated with the respect they deserve.”

“We mean no disrespect, Ambassador,” Nechayev placated him.  “We are merely trying to examine all possibilities.”

“Admiral Janeway, if you had no intention of revealing your source to us, why come today?  Surely you knew the question would arise,” pointed out Ross.

“I did,” Janeway replied, “and I may be able to reveal my source at a later date, but right now, too many lives are at stake.  

“Who did you collaborate with to get this information?” Henry asked, raising his voice.  “The Romulans?  The Klingons?  Or is this yet another boon from your alliance with Borg drones?”

“Axum and his people are not Borg drones.  I’ve already explained that.”

“How do we know we can trust your explanations?” demanded Henry.    

Janeway blinked twice and pursed her lips.  “I thought my integrity was above suspicion.”

Paris nodded.  “Admiral Janeway is a decorated member of Starfleet and has served faithfully for over twenty years.”

“Anyone can become corrupt, given the right incentive,” shot back Lilith Baines.

“Councilwoman,” Nechayev said firmly, “please refrain from insulting my officers.”

“I’m merely pointing out a fact,” Baines replied unapologetically.  “I wasn’t insulting anyone.”

“Ambassador, just why is it you’re not willing to let Starfleet examine your data if you have nothing to hide?” asked Patterson.

“Is Admiral Janeway the only one whose integrity goes unquestioned here?” V’tan asked, agitated.  “Is that the way the Federation operates?  Blindly trusting its own personnel while throwing suspicion on its allies?”  Nechayev attempted to intervene, but the ambassador continued, “Are these your enlightened Federation principles?  To trust only those who look and think just like you?”

“Please, Ambassador,” Nechayev finally managed, “we didn’t mean...”

V’tan cut in, “I will not allow you to analyze my data unless Admiral Janeway does the same.”

Slowly, every face in the room turned to look at Kathryn.  Tight lipped and pale, she shook her head.  Under other circumstances, she might have revealed where her information had come from, but she knew the deck was stacked against her, and she refused to let Seven suffer as a result.  She couldn’t understand why Paris and Patterson were the only ones coming to her defense.  Admiral Henry had become nearly hysterical in the end, and the Federation Council members seemed to side firmly with the ambassador.  She was beginning to think that V’tan must have some hold on them - blackmail, perhaps.  Without such an incentive, their behavior didn’t make any sense.

“It seems we’ve reached an impasse,” said Nechayev.

“The Federation Council wishes to maintain good relations with the Br’nai,” interjected Thelos.  “Steps should be taken to avoid jeopardizing our alliance.”

Nechayev nodded.  “Starfleet Command agrees, Councilman.  In light of the fact that Admiral Janeway’s evidence cannot be substantiated, there will be no further investigation into this matter.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” said V’tan, but he was not looking at Nechayev; he was looking directly at Janeway, and the look in his eyes was one of triumph.

“Ambassador, Council members, thank you for taking the time to meet with us today.  This panel is hereby concluded,” said Nechayev.  

The Federation Council members left first, and Baines scoffed at Janeway on her way out the door.  The other admirals exited as well, Paris and Patterson glancing back sympathetically.  Ambassador V’tan fixed her with a cold stare for several moments before leaving the room, and Kathryn met his eyes without flinching.  He seemed to be studying her, searching for an answer to a riddle.  She stared back defiantly, as if to say, I won’t back down.  You may have won the battle, but you haven’t won the war.  Suddenly, the ambassador wore an expression of satisfaction, as if he had discovered the solution to his puzzle, and he left the conference room with a flourish of his cape.

Only Nechayev and Janeway remained.  They stared at each other across the table for a moment before Alynna spoke.  “Just what do you think you’re doing, bringing that kind of inflammatory evidence in here and then refusing to reveal your source?”

“I think that I’m doing what’s best for the Federation,” Janeway replied tiredly.

“You don’t know what’s best for the Federation, Kathryn!  You may have been on your own for seven years, able to decide what accorded with Starfleet principles and what didn’t, but you don’t have that right here.  It is your job to follow my orders, preferably without causing a major diplomatic incident.”

“This evidence had to be brought to light.  Why won’t you at least investigate it further?”

“Where did you get that data?  The Borg?  The Romulans?  Some illegal Maquis cloaking technology?  Something your future self brought back that you neglected to mention in your reports?  Something that you were saving for a time like this, so you could outshine all of us and run Starfleet yourself?”  Nechayev paused emphatically.  “Well, you’re not going to get away with it, Janeway.  I call the shots around here.”

Shaking with rage, Kathryn tried to control her voice.  “Admiral Nechayev, we may not see eye to eye on a great many things, but I assure you, I have nothing but the best interests of Starfleet and the Federation at heart.  I have devoted my entire life to upholding Federation principles.  I made the best decisions I could in the midst of a battle.  I never intended to undermine your authority, and I’m sorry if it appeared that way.”

Nechayev took a breath, curbing her own emotions.  “I know that in the Delta Quadrant, the buck stopped with you.  But you can’t make those calls alone anymore.  You may not realize it, but the political situation here has been very delicate since the Dominion War.  The Federation has to treat its allies carefully; we can’t afford to lose them.  And Starfleet has to maintain good relations with the Federation Council.  The Council has already imposed restrictions on us, and there’s talk of more in Councilwoman Baines’ next bill.  If we antagonize the Council, the repercussions could be disastrous.  There’s a great deal more at stake here than you realize.”

“With all due respect, Admiral, I think I understand more than you realize.  If the Br’nai intend to break our alliance, the entire Federation could be in danger.  I’ve seen their technology; it is beyond impressive.”

“What motive could the Br’nai have for attacking us?  If that’s their plan, why seek an alliance in the first place.”

“I don’t know,” Janeway admitted.  “To lull us into a false sense of security?  To gain vital tactical information?  Everything in my gut tells me that they are not to be trusted.”

“Starfleet cannot make decisions based on your gut, Kathryn.”

Janeway struggled to keep her frustration in check.  All her years in the field, all her experience with alien cultures, what were they worth if Starfleet Command didn’t trust her?  She took a deep breath and said, “I understand, Admiral.”

“Good,” said Nechayev, apparently considering the matter settled.  “So you’ll take that desk job and stay out of the spotlight for a while.  Once we see that you’re willing to abide by the chain of command, we can start giving you more freedom again.”

“I never agreed to that,” Janeway replied, anger surging through her.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice after the ruckus you caused today,” Nechayev said, gesturing to the conference room.

Kathryn forced down her fury, knowing that unleashing it would only make the situation worse.  “If I do as you ask, if I go quietly and remain so for the next few years, will you be lenient on Chakotay, Seven, Lieutenant Ayala, and the EMH?  They shouldn’t be punished for rescuing me.  Let me take the fall, alone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.  The theft of the Hugh was too well publicized, and there are too many people out for Maquis blood after the Paris bombings.  Hopefully, the trials of Chakotay and Michael Ayala will quench their thirst.”    

“Chakotay and Mike had nothing to do with those bombings.”

“But they did mutiny against you,” Nechayev said pointedly.  “Why are you still defending them?”

“I’m not condoning mutiny.  But I served with both of them for seven years, and they are good Starfleet officers.  Commander Chakotay is one of the most loyal and trustworthy people I know.  He wouldn’t have done this unless he believed he had no other choice.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he did it, betraying Starfleet and betraying you.”

The stinging remark caught Janeway off guard, and she had to regain her composure before replying.  “Commander Chakotay and the others did what they thought was right.  I don’t believe that it was aimed personally at me.  They didn’t think they’d receive a fair trial from Starfleet, and you’ve just admitted that they were right about that.  There is no excuse for using them as a scapegoat for a public that simply wants to see a Maquis hanging.  You wouldn’t need a scapegoat if Starfleet wasn’t too consumed with politics to bother finding out what really happened in Paris, or whether I was dead or alive.”  She hadn’t intended to go that far, but once she started, the words just tumbled out.

“Admiral Janeway, perhaps you should take some time and cool down before...”

“No.  I’m not finished.  I don’t know when Starfleet Command became so afraid of political repercussions that it became the Federation Council’s lap dog.  Look at what’s happening around you.  The Federation Council continues to take away more and more of Starfleet’s autonomy, and we haven’t even batted an eyelash.  Instead, we’re trying to placate them.  They’re making tactical decisions for us, and we don’t even put up a fight.  You think that I’m trying to wrest control from you?  Wake up, Alynna.  The Federation Council and the media already have control of Starfleet, and they will as long as you pander to their every whim.

“I know you’re all scared stiff of another conflict like the Dominion War, but as long as that fear controls you, you open yourselves to exploitation by anyone who can tap into it.  Ambassador V’tan is manipulating you.  He’s manipulating everyone in that room.  He and his people can’t be trusted.  We’ve seen it time and time again, but no one here is paying attention.  No one even wants to investigate.  What happened to Ex astris scientia?  You’re not seeking knowledge, or truth; you’re seeking political security.”

“Admiral, I think you should watch what you say...”

“Oh?”  Janeway didn’t allow the other woman to finish; her anger had taken full reign.  “Why is that?  Because if I say the wrong thing, you’ll use me a scapegoat, too?  That won’t be necessary because I don’t work for you any longer.”  Kathryn reached up slowly, feeling a lump in her throat as she removed the admiral’s rank bar from her collar and placed it on the table in front of Nechayev, her hand trembling.  “I hereby resign from Starfleet,” she said, and she turned and exited the room, leaving Nechayev alone at the table, stunned.

The days without sunlight had begun to wear on Chakotay.  He reminded himself that on Voyager they had frequently gone without sunlight for weeks, but there he’d been able to look out the window and see the stars.  And even on those rare occasions when there had been no stars, he had never been alone, as he was now.  He meditated, shadow boxed, and read Dante to pass the time.  He made copious notes about the train car and its surroundings for the book he planned to write someday.

But most of his time was spent scanning the messages that came through the communications console and using Seven’s Borg decryption algorithms to decipher those that were encrypted.  He watched for key words: Borg, Br’nai, Maquis, but mostly for two words in particular: Kathryn Janeway.  There had been little for him to go on, which meant that either nothing had changed or the relevant communications had been highly classified.

He slept only a few hours at a time, and always with one hand on his phaser, doubting the safety of his surroundings.  He knew that he was exhausted and didn’t want to think about the dirt that had lodged under his fingernails, the grease in his hair, the smell he exuded.  Once, in his Maquis days, he’d been alone in an underground cave for three weeks running reconnaissance.  But he wasn’t so young anymore, and his self-enforced captivity was wearing on him.  

The thought of Kathryn kept him going, the knowledge that he had to be here when she needed him, the unlikely fantasy that he’d whisk her away from this place and they would finally be happy together.  He realized things would never happen that way, but he clung to the image all the same.  Living on water and emergency rations wasn’t helping his state of mind, and that morning he’d begun to worry he was becoming delirious.  The portable replicator had enough energy left for a few more days.  Then he’d have to signal Mike and get out of here, turn himself in to the authorities, or go to Kathryn and run the risk of exposing himself.

The console beeped, indicating the appearance of one or more of his key words in a transmission.  He accessed the file and his eyes widened.  This was the type of news he’d been waiting for, but he was shocked to see the memo that appeared before him.  Hurriedly, he packed his gear, his fatigue and hunger suddenly vanishing.  As he stepped down from the old train car, shining his wrist light down the tunnel, he saw a rat scurry across the tracks.  “Thanks for letting me hang out in your neighborhood for a while.  If I ever come back, hopefully my stay will be a lot shorter.”

It was time to call Mike and employ some more old Maquis tricks.  Kathryn needed him.

From the moment she heard the front door slam shut, Gretchen Janeway knew something was wrong.  “Kathryn?  Kathryn, honey?”  She heard the sound of a bag dropped on the floor of the entryway, a coat thrown over it.  And then she heard footsteps - sluggish, reluctant.  When Kathryn entered the kitchen and flopped down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, Gretchen immediately went over and put her arms around her.  When her eldest daughter didn’t shrug off the embrace, she realized the situation must be worse than she had thought.  “What happened, Kathryn?”

“I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”

“Sweetheart, whatever it is, you can tell me.”  

Kathryn buried her head in her hands as a sob caught in her throat.  “Daddy would be so ashamed of me.”

Gretchen took her daughter firmly by the shoulders and forced her to look up.  “Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway, there is nothing you could ever do to make me or your father ashamed of you.  Is that clear?”  Kathryn nodded, suddenly feeling about twelve years old.  “Now, tell me what happened.”

“I resigned from Starfleet.”

She had expected her mother to be horrified.  Instead, Gretchen just nodded.  “I see.  What made you decide to do that?”

“That meeting made me so angry.  I lost control...”  She stopped, shaking her head.  “Nechayev is wrong.  Starfleet is wrong to trust the Br’nai.  They’re letting their politics get in the way of their judgment.  They’re determined to make scapegoats out of Chakotay, Seven, Mike, and the Doctor, and they want me to sit in some back room with my mouth shut, pushing papers.”

“Pushing papers?  That doesn’t sound like my Kathryn.”

Janeway met her mother’s eyes for the first time in the course of the conversation.  “I’ve spent my whole life upholding Starfleet principles, and until now, they always coincided with my principles.  But I’m not willing to give up what I believe in to work for a corrupt organization.”

“Kathryn, your father wouldn’t be ashamed of you.  He would be proud.”  Her daughter looked away, trying to hide her emotions.  “Maybe you didn’t make a mistake after all.”

“Maybe not,” Kathryn said softly, looking into her mother’s face and finding understanding there.

“Good,” said Gretchen.  “Now that that’s settled, I made your favorite caramel brownies and I have a fresh pot of coffee brewing.  I’ll pour you a cup and you can tell me all about the meeting.  Okay?”

Kathryn impulsively reached out and gave her mother a hug.  “Sure, Mom.  That would be nice.”

It was dusk by the time Janeway returned to her apartment; the sky had taken on a deep purple hue, and the first of the stars had just begun to appear.  For a moment, she stopped, staring up at the vast expanse that had been her constant companion throughout her life.  She remembered being a young girl sitting with her father, naming the constellations.  She remembered the first time she stepped onto the bridge of her own starship.  She remembered countless nights on Voyager, sitting at her window, watching the stars whiz by. Those twinkling, distant planets had never looked as beautiful to her as they did in that moment.  

She’d had a long conversation with her mother and had told her as much as she could about the meeting without revealing any classified information.  She knew now what she had to do.  She had to figure out what really happened in Paris and why everyone seemed to trust Ambassador V’tan so implicitly.  And she couldn’t do it on her own.  She had to find Chakotay.  Even if he had gone with Axum to the Delta Quadrant, she had to find him.  She’d told her mother, “I think I’m going away for a while.  I don’t know where I’ll be, and I’m not sure if you’ll be able to reach me.  You can contact Tuvok if you need to get in touch; he should know how to find me.  Don’t worry about me, okay?  I’m fine.  I promise to stay safe.”

Gretchen knew these were empty promises and replied, “I’ll always worry about you.  You’re my daughter,” enfolding her in a tight hug.  Kathryn had almost cried then, knowing it might be a long time before she saw her mother again, but she had held back her tears.  She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of breaking down, not yet.

As Kathryn exited the lift and walked to her apartment, she pondered her conundrum.  How would she find Chakotay?  Was there a clue to his whereabouts in his letter?  She didn’t think she could have missed something like that; she had read the letter so many times she had it memorized.  She went over it again in her mind, but couldn’t see anything that might lead to his location.  She’d likely be locked out of Starfleet’s systems already; they wouldn’t risk granting her access after her resignation.  Who could she ask for help?  She didn’t want to involve Tom and B’Elanna if she could help it.  Perhaps Patterson would help her, but she’d have to arrange to see him outside of work.

She keyed in her door code and stepped inside her dark apartment.  For a moment, she leaned against the closed door, exhaustion overcoming her.  She needed a hot bath.  Unzipping her Starfleet jacket - she’d have to recycle it now, she thought with a pang - she entered her bedroom.  She had just untucked her grey tank and began to pull it over her head when a deep male voice startled her, sending her jumping halfway across the room and reaching for the nonexistent phaser at her hip.

“If you keep that up, I won’t be held responsible for my actions,” the voice said from the shadows.

“Computer, lights!” she ordered, her heart pounding.  

“Belay that,” the male voice countered.  “Someone might be watching, Kathryn.”

She took a step closer to the voice, which she had recognized immediately, and peered into the dim light.  The moonlight shone into the room, just enough for her to recognize her former first officer leaning casually against the doorframe of her bathroom.  She stared at him in disbelief.  He wore solid black, and his hair was damp.  He was thin, she noticed - too thin - and his hair was a little long.  His eyes never left her, and he gazed at her as though he’d been starved for her image.

“I used your shower,” he said.  “I hope you don’t mind.  You really wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere near me otherwise.”

She had a hard time summoning her voice.  “Chakotay, where have you been?  How did you get in here?  The security system...”  She trailed off, seeing the glint in his eye.

“I’m an outlaw, remember?  A dangerous mutineer.  A ruthless criminal.”  She frowned as he quoted the news vids, and he glanced at the chronometer.  “We don’t have much time.  You need to pack.”

“Pack?  Where are we going?”

“To find out what really happened in Paris.  That is what you were going to do after you resigned, isn’t it?”  She stared at him.  He already knew.  Somehow, he already knew.  “Come on,” he urged.  “I’ll go in the other room so you can change.”

As he walked by her, she reached out and grabbed his arm.  A little shiver went through him at the contact, and his eyes met hers with an intensity that surprised her.  She met his gaze, not knowing what to say to him, hoping her eyes and her touch could communicate what words could not.  He nodded, seeming to understand, and disappeared into her living room.  She packed some clothes, a tricorder, and a spare phaser that she kept in a drawer in her bedroom and hurriedly changed into a comfortable forest green pants suit.  She slung the bag over her shoulder and walked out of her bedroom.  “I’m ready.”

Chakotay gazed at her, the hungry look still in his eyes, and nodded with a small smile.  He tapped his comm badge.  “Chakotay to Hugh.  Energize.”

Chapter Text

17

Ghosts

                I know nothing save things the birds have lost,
                the sea I left behind, or my sister crying.
                Why this abundance of places? Why does day lock
                with day? Why the dark night swilling round
                in our mouths? And why the dead?
                        -Pablo Neruda

Tuvok sat in the captain’s chair, surveying the bridge.  Voyager was due to end its test run in only a few hours.  After dropping Admiral Janeway off on Earth, they’d “taken the ship out for a spin,” as Tom Paris put it, checking the function of all remaining systems.  So far, everything checked out, and they had received their scheduled docking time at Utopia Planetia.  Tuvok felt uneasy, a sensation that had not left him since they had conspired to stage a mutiny.  He had not heard from Admiral Janeway in seven days, which concerned him, but what concerned him even more was Starfleet’s illogical behavior in regards to the Br’nai.  After Voyager docked, he was scheduled to return to the Vulcan Science Academy, but he hadn’t yet decided if his presence might be needed more elsewhere.

“We’re receiving a transmission, sir,” Andrews reported.  “It’s encrypted and addressed to Admiral Janeway.”

“Put it through to the ready room,” Tuvok ordered as he stood and moved towards the door.  “Mr. Paris, you have the bridge.”  Tuvok sat at the desk in the ready room and activated the monitor.  It was blank for a moment while the computer decrypted the transmission, but then a face appeared on the screen.

“Oh.  Commander Tuvok,” said Quark, sounding disappointed.  “Where’s Admiral Janeway?”

“The admiral is occupied at the moment.  Were you able to discover the owner of the bank account on Ferenginar?”

“Our Bajoran friend was quite a wealthy man.  The Ferengi government repossessed the equivalent of fifty thousand bars of gold pressed latinum from his account.”

“That is a significant sum.”

“You could say that again.  And most of it was recently deposited.  Whoever deposited the money went to a lot of trouble to make sure that no one would ever find out where it came from; the trail was so convoluted it was hard for even me to trace.  But I have excellent sources, and I called in a few favors...”  

“Mr. Quark, if you have information to divulge, please do so.”

“The money was transferred from a bank account on...”  Quark paused dramatically, but the Vulcan showed no signs of more than a casual interest, so he gave up and finished, “Br’nai.”  Quark felt some satisfaction when Tuvok’s face showed a hint of surprise.  

“Were you able to determine the owner of the Br’nai account?”

“I’m afraid that’s where my resources end.  Those people are more guarded about their money than a Ferengi investment banker.”

Tuvok raised an eyebrow.  “I see.  Were you able to discover any other information about the Bajoran’s identity?”

“Of course.  No one can open a bank account on Ferenginar without giving their personal information.  We’re very scrupulous about that.”

“Naturally,” Tuvok replied, and if he hadn’t known better, Quark might have thought that the Vulcan was being sarcastic.

Quark glanced down at a PADD and read, “His name was Piva Ondarra.  The address he had registered with the bank was on Bajor.”

“Please transmit that data to me, Mr. Quark.”

“Of course, Commander.  Now, as for the matter of compensation...”  Quark stopped when he saw the expression on Tuvok’s face.  No, that never did work with these Starfleet types.  Especially not the Vulcans.  “All right.  No problem.  No problem at all.  The first bit of information is always free to Starfleet.  Good luck, Commander.  Something tells me you’re going to need it.  Quark out.”

As soon as the screen went black, Tuvok placed another call.  Admiral Janeway would want this information as soon as possible.  He checked the time on Earth; it was late, and it was unlikely she would still be in her office.  He commed her home, but there was no response.  Perhaps she was still at work after all.  He tried to contact her at Starfleet Command, but the computer informed him, “No such person is registered with Starfleet Command.”  Tuvok furrowed his brow.  There had to be an error.  He attempted to reach Admiral Paris, but he was not available either.  Finally, he managed to reach Patterson.  “I am trying to reach Admiral Janeway, but the computer does not recognize her Starfleet Command comm channel.”

Patterson looked troubled.  “Katie resigned this afternoon.  She didn’t tell you?”

“No.  I have not been in contact with the admiral for several days.”

“Why don’t you try her at home?”

“I did.  She was not there.”

“Maybe she’s at her mother’s?” Patterson suggested.  

“Perhaps.”

Patterson stroked his beard, the skin around his eyes crinkling.  “Let me know when you find her, Tuvok.  I’m worried about her.”

“Yes, sir.  Tuvok out.”  He placed a call to Gretchen Janeway and discovered that her daughter was not there either, but Gretchen told him what Kathryn had said that afternoon about being gone for a while.  Tuvok nodded thoughtfully and thanked her for the information.  It was likely that Janeway had gone to look for Chakotay.  It was not necessarily the logical thing for her to do, but he had known her a long time and knew that logic was often not her primary concern.  She wouldn’t stop at a resignation.  She’d want to prove the commander’s innocence and the Br’nai’s untrustworthiness to Starfleet once and for all, and she would need Chakotay’s help to do that.  

Tuvok was left to choose the logical course of action for Voyager.  He decided that, for the moment, the discussion should be limited to those who knew about the false nature of the mutiny.  “Tuvok to Lieutenants Paris and Torres.  Please report to the ready room immediately.”  A few minutes later, the door chimed, and Tom and B’Elanna entered.  Tuvok related his conversation with Quark to them, and then informed them of Janeway’s resignation.

“What?!” B’Elanna exclaimed.

“Resigned?” Tom asked.  “Do you believe it?”

“I spoke to Gretchen Janeway as well, and she confirmed it.”

“Okay,” said B’Elanna, “What do we do now?”

“Given Starfleet’s recent behavior regarding both the Br’nai and the Maquis, I do not believe it would be logical to involve Starfleet Command directly.”

“Agreed,” said Tom.

“Besides,” Torres put in, “we need more evidence before we can go to Starfleet.  Knowing that a dead Bajoran on Deep Space Nine was paid a lot of money by someone on Br’nai doesn’t prove he had any connection to the Paris bombings.”

“Sveta’s message did mention a Bajoran,” Tom pointed out.

“But there is no guarantee it is the same Bajoran,” said Tuvok.  “Lieutenant Torres is correct.  We must find out exactly how and why Piva Ondarra received a large sum of money from Br’nai.”  Tuvok paused.  “At this time, I believe it is best if we do not allow the rest of the crew any knowledge of our mission beyond what is absolutely necessary for the operation of this ship.”

“I thought Vulcans didn’t lie, Tuvok,” said Paris.

“It is not a lie.  We are continuing Voyager’s test run.  I am simply choosing not to share the details of our mission with every member of the crew.”

Paris looked at his wife.  “That’s Vulcan for lying.”  Tuvok seemed about to retort, but then he realized that Paris was most likely making a joke, so he refrained from commenting.  The three exited the ready room and resumed their positions on the bridge.  

“Helm,” Tuvok ordered, “set course for Bajor.”

“Thank you for meeting with me today, Admiral,” Ambassador V’tan said as he sipped coffee from a china cup and looked over its rim at the woman before him.

“I wanted to smooth over any concerns you might still have after our meeting the other day,” she replied.  “I want to assure you that Starfleet has no desire for conflict with the Br’nai.  Now that Admiral Janeway has resigned, there should be no further obstacles to our alliance.”  She could feel V’tan’s probing eyes on her, scrutinizing her.

“I’m glad to hear that, Admiral.”  V’tan smiled.  It was going to be easy to bend the admiral to his will; she already wanted to feel just as he did.  He’d barely have to do any work at all.  “I think we’re going to be very good friends.”

The admiral smiled.  Suddenly, she felt perfectly at ease, and the ambassador’s gaze felt comforting.  Yes, she thought, being friends with him was going to be a truly fulfilling experience.

With a slight jolt, the Hugh emerged from a transwarp conduit on the edge of the Badlands.  Chakotay glanced back at Kathryn, but her eyes were firmly rooted to her console.  She had been very quiet during their trip, and he respected her need to keep her distance, for the moment.  “You remember how to get there, Mike?” Chakotay asked his co-pilot.

“How could I ever forget?” Ayala replied sarcastically.  “I never thought I’d be coming back here, though.  At least... not under these circumstances.”

Chakotay heard Kathryn’s small sigh, and he knew that guilt was consuming her.  It was a well practiced emotion with her, and she still refused to meet his eyes.  He exchanged a glance with Ayala, who gave a small shrug.  Having been Janeway’s aide for the past year, he’d come to know her well, and he had more than an inkling of what Chakotay was thinking.  “Steady,” Chakotay cautioned as a plasma storm whirled past the ship.

“Sorry, boss.”

“I’m detecting several more plasma storms headed our way,” Janeway reported.

“Don’t worry, Mike and I know this part of space like our own backyard,” Chakotay said, shooting a grin back at her.  She nodded curtly and did not return his smile.  He turned his attention back to piloting the shuttle.  

“There she is,” Ayala said, referring to the planet they approached.

“Bring us into orbit,” Chakotay ordered.  The Hugh jolted as it glanced off a plasma storm, throwing its occupants against their consoles.

“Sorry.  That one snuck up on me,” said Mike.  “We’ve dropped into standard orbit around Montfermeil.”

“Montfermeil?” Janeway asked.  “That’s not a planet I’m familiar with.”

“It’s a code name,” Chakotay explained.  “The planet’s formal designation is B-612.”

“I’m detecting several small structures on the surface,” said Janeway.  “No life signs.”

“That’s what we expected,” Chakotay affirmed.  “Kathryn, can you find us a good landing site?  Somewhere near the encampment if possible.”

In the back of her mind, Janeway realized the absurdity of the situation.  She was in a stolen shuttle, acting under Chakotay’s command, with no rank, no titles, no Starfleet to fall back on.  She felt as though she had jumped off cliff without a safety net, without realizing what she was doing until it was too late.  She pushed away the feeling and focused on her console.  “Yes, I’ve found one.  Coordinates one two seven mark oh five.”

“Take us down, Mike.  Nice and smooth.”  Ayala’s brow furrowed in concentration as he landed the shuttle.  The plasma storms caused turbulence in the planet’s atmosphere, and the ship jolted and rocked as it descended.  Chakotay extended the landing gear, and the Hugh touched down on the surface of B-612.  

“Still no life signs,” reported Janeway.  “We’re less than a kilometer from those structures.”

“All right,” said Chakotay.  “Let’s see what’s still here.”  He looked at Ayala, and all three armed themselves and exited the shuttle.  

When Chakotay stepped out of the hatch, the heat assaulted him first.  He had forgotten how hot and dry Montfermeil was.  He brought his hand up to shield his eyes from the harsh sunlight and blinked as a gust of wind blew grains of sand into his face.  When he’d become Voyager’s first officer, he had thought he’d left this life behind him forever, but now he had returned.  He had no idea what they would find in the encampment - dead bodies?  Technology that still functioned?  Or simply the ghosts of the past?  He gestured to Janeway and Ayala.  “Come on,” he said grimly, and they began to walk through the arid desert towards a place that had once been familiar.

“Captain Picard, please wait here,” requested Nechayev’s aide, gesturing to the sofa in the anteroom of her office.  The Enterprise had entered orbit around Earth a few hours earlier, and Nechayev had asked to see him immediately.  Picard did not sit, but remained standing, examining one of the artifacts that Alynna kept on display.  

The door opened behind him and Nechayev stepped out.  “You can come in, Jean-Luc.” He entered her office, surprised to see that she was not alone.  A tall, dark-haired Br’nai sat in one corner of the room.  He stood when Picard entered.  “This is Ambassador V’tan of Br’nai,” Nechayev introduced them.

Picard shook the ambassador’s hand.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador.”  

“Likewise, Captain.  I understand you had the pleasure of visiting my home world.”

“Indeed.  I only wish the circumstances of our departure had been more pleasant.”

“As do I,” V’tan replied with a thin smile.  

Picard glanced at Nechayev, wondering about the ambassador’s presence, but she seemed to take it for granted.  “What can I do for you, Ambassador?” Picard asked.

“Admiral Nechayev requested that the three of us meet in order to discuss the technology that you obtained from Br’nai.”

“I see.”  Picard hesitated, glancing at Alynna again.  It wasn’t like her to consult an outside source when making decisions of this kind.

“Ambassador V’tan has some excellent suggestions regarding the use of this technology on our ships.”

“Admiral,” Picard began slowly, “perhaps we should begin by discussing the Br’nai’s role in the recent battle with the Borg.”

“Those questions have been asked and answered, Captain.  I’m sure you’ve received the reports.”

“Yes, Admiral, but I still feel there are some doubts as to whether...”

“The matter is closed,” Nechayev said firmly, cutting him off.  “We are here to discuss Starfleet’s use of the Br’nai scanning device.”

Picard felt V’tan’s silver eyes on him, studying him closely.  The ambassador was looking at him too hard, with too much scrutiny, and Picard felt distinctly uncomfortable.  “Very well,” he acquiesced.

“Admiral Nechayev and I have formulated a plan to install the scanners aboard all Starfleet vessels,” V’tan explained.  “The Enterprise will be the first to enjoy their benefits in gratitude for your willingness to transport the technology back from Br’nai.”

“Admiral,” said Picard, turning away from V’tan and back to Nechayev, “don’t you think that this technology merits some testing before we install it on any Starfleet ship?”

For a moment Nechayev looked confused, as if she was unsure how to answer the question, but then her eyes cleared and she spoke with authority.  “Ambassador V’tan has provided us with all the necessary data to ensure that this technology is safe.  It will allow us to detect and destroy the types of weapons used in the Paris bombings.”

“Do you have reason to believe that Starfleet is in danger of more attacks with these weapons?  Have you been able to trace where they were made, or figure out how the Maquis obtained them, if the attack was indeed carried out by the Maquis?” Picard asked.

“We can never be too prepared, Jean-Luc.  The Dominion War taught us that.”

“I see.”

Nechayev handed him a PADD.  “Here are your orders and instructions for installing the scanner.  Inform me as soon as you have completed the installation.  Once the device is active aboard the Enterprise, we can use the plans provided by Ambassador V’tan to replicate it for the rest of the ships in the fleet.”

Picard looked down at the PADD and back at Nechayev.  He felt V’tan studying him again, and all his instincts told him not to voice his concerns, so he simply said, “Aye, Admiral,” and left the room.  As he walked back to the transporter pad, he realized that the meeting reminded him of the time when several high ranking members of Starfleet had been possessed by alien lifeforms.  He had been talking to Alynna Nechayev, but he had not been talking to Alynna Nechayev.  As soon as he beamed back up to the Enterprise he tapped his comm badge.  “Picard to bridge.  Has the Titan made orbit?”

“Just a few minutes ago, sir,” replied Harry Kim.

“Good.  Contact them immediately.  Ask Counselor Troi to join us in the briefing room.”  

“Yes, sir.”  

Picard contacted Dr. Crusher as well, and in less than an hour, he was sitting around the briefing table with Riker, Troi, Crusher, Geordi, and Harry Kim.  He told them about his strange meeting with Admiral Nechayev and Ambassador V’tan.

“Do you think Admiral Nechayev is under some kind of alien influence?” asked Troi.

“I don’t know.  There was something off about her.  I’ve known Alynna Nechayev for years, but that was not Alynna Nechayev I was talking to.  It looked like her, and it sounded like her, but it wasn’t her.  The admiral I know would never ask us to put untested alien technology aboard our ships without extensive preliminary analysis.  She’s far too concerned with security for that.”

“Is it possible that she’s convinced that this is the most secure option?” Riker asked.

“Possible, yes, but unlikely,” Picard replied.

“I might be able to determine more if I could bring her into sickbay,” Crusher suggested.

“I doubt she’ll submit to a medical exam,” said Picard.  

“If she is under an external influence, whoever is controlling her will do anything they can to prevent that sort of intrusion,” added Troi.  

“I think our first order of business is to run some tests on this technology,” said Riker, “whether or not Starfleet has ordered us to.”

“Agreed,” Picard said.  “Geordi, Harry, that will be your first priority.  Enlist the help of anyone you need.  If you find the smallest inconsistency or problem with the device, I want to know immediately.  I need a reason to meet with Admital Nechayev and Ambassador V’tan again, and Deanna, this time I’d like you to come with me.”

Troi nodded and Geordi replied, “We’ll get right on it, sir.”

“All right,” said Picard.  “In the meantime, Beverly, I’d like you to review all the medical records we have on Ambassador V’tan.  See if you can find anything that suggests he might be connected to the admiral’s strange behavior.  Dismissed.”

When Torres and Tuvok materialized on the surface of Bajor, they found themselves in a small village.  A few people gave them curious glances, but Starfleet personnel were commonplace on Bajor now that it was a member of the Federation, so most of the residents didn’t seem perturbed by their arrival.  Tuvok pulled out his tricorder.  “This way.”  He and B’Elanna walked a few meters until they arrived at the address Quark had given them.  It was a small home, only a few meters square, but it was well kept - neat and tidy with flower boxes in the two small front windows.  Tuvok knocked on the door.

It cracked open and a Bajoran woman peeked out.  “Hello.”

“I am Commander Tuvok.  This is Lieutenant Torres.  Is this the home of Piva Ondarra?”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she looked as though she had seen a ghost.  “Ondarra is dead.”

“We know,” said B’Elanna gently.  “We’re sorry.  We were hoping you might be able to answer a few questions for us.”

The woman opened the door and motioned for them to enter.  “Please, come in and sit down.  I am Piva Murele.  Ondarra was my husband.”  Tuvok and Torres entered the small house, and Murele offered them seats at a wooden kitchen table.  “Can I get you some tea?”

“No, thank you,” said Tuvok.  “We are sorry for your loss.”

“It’s all right,” Murele replied with a wistful look in her eyes.  “He was gone long before he died.”  

“How did you know that he was dead?” B’Elanna asked.  

“He disappeared two months ago.  I never heard from him again.  Then, yesterday, I received a communique from a bank on Ferenginar confirming that they had seized his account following his death.  I didn’t even know he had a bank account on Ferenginar.”

“Did you file a missing persons report?” Tuvok asked.

Murele shook her head.  “He told me that he was leaving.”  She paused.  “We’d been having a rough time.  Ondarra hadn’t been able to find a job since the war, and we barely had enough to live on.  He looked for employment for months, but nothing came through.  We were beginning to wonder if we needed to move to one of the colonies.  We thought it might be easier to find work there.”

“But something else happened?” queried B’Elanna.

“About three months ago, Ondarra came home one evening, and he was very excited.  He told me that he’d found a job - one that would pay our expenses for the next twenty years.  I asked him what it was, but he wouldn’t tell me much about it - only that it was for a private employer, and that he’d have to be gone for several weeks.”

“Can you recall anything else he might have said about this job or his employer?” asked Tuvok.

Murele shook her head.  “I’m afraid he didn’t tell me anything else.  He never talked much about his work with me.”  She paused, lost in thought.  “His cousin, Piva Gole might be able to tell you more.  They were very close, and I know that Ondarra spoke about work with him.  He lives in the village, too.”  She glanced at the clock hanging near the stove.  “He’s probably at the pub about now.  I’ll give you the address.”

“Thank you,” said Tuvok.  He took the information from Murele, and they exited the house.

“We’re sorry to bother you, Ma’am,” said B’Elanna as they were leaving.

“Please, let me know if you find out anything else about what happened to Ondarra.”

“We will,” said B’Elanna as she followed Tuvok out the door.  “Shouldn’t she have her husband’s remains?” she asked as they made their way through the crowded street.

“The body is evidence in an ongoing investigation.  However, when our investigation is concluded, there is no reason that she should not have them.  I will speak to Dr. Bashir about it.”

It didn’t take them long to find Piva Gole in the local pub.  He was sitting at the bar, carousing with friends and laughing raucously.  “Good one, Gole!” one of the other men at the bar exclaimed, slapping his knee.

Tuvok tapped Gole on the shoulder.  “Mr. Piva?”

The Bajoran swayed slightly on his feet as he turned to face Tuvok.  “Yeah?”

“I am Commander Tuvok.  This is Lieutenant Torres.  We’d like to ask you some questions about your cousin, Ondarra.”

“Sure!” Gole replied, slurring his words.  “Whaddaya wanna know?”

“Perhaps we should step outside.”

“Why?  Come on.  Have a drink.”

“I do not require a beverage at this time.”

“What about you, pretty lady?” the Bajoran asked, turning to B’Elanna and grabbing her arm.

“Get your hands off me!” she snarled, pulling her arm from his grasp.  

Her harshness seemed to sober Gole slightly and he looked at the two, as if realizing for the first time that they were Starfleet officers.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “The past few months haven’t been so great for me.”

“Why is that?” Tuvok asked.

“It’s been hard since Ondarra left.  He wasn’t just my cousin; he was my best friend.”  For a second, it looked like the man might cry, but he pulled himself together.

“We would like to speak to you about Ondarra,” said Tuvok.

Gole nodded and led Tuvok and B’Elanna to a table in the corner where there was less noise and fewer prying eyes.  “I don’t know how to get to his money, if that’s what you’re after.  I understand he got paid well, in the end.”

Tuvok and Torres exchanged a glance.  “What do you know about that?” she asked.

“Ondarra had a very wealthy client, someone willing to pay him a lot.  He commed me on his way home and told me he was set for life.”

“Why would he contact you and not his wife?” asked Tuvok.

“He wanted to surprise Murele.  He was so happy.”  Gole’s voice caught in his throat and he looked down at the table.

“What do you know about the job he did?” B’Elanna asked.

Gole looked around the pub to ensure that no one was eavesdropping before he leaned towards Torres and Tuvok conspiratorially.  “Ondarra swore me to secrecy, but I guess that since he’s gone, there’s no harm in telling you.  Don’t tell anyone it was me who mentioned it though.  Promise.”

“Your identity will remain anonymous,” Tuvok assured him.

Gole leaned over the table further.  “Ondarra never told me his employer’s name,” he whispered, “but I know he was paid by a high ranking official of another planetary government.  At first, Ondarra thought this guy might be trying to start a war with the Federation.”

“What made him think that?” Torres asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You said he believed that at first,” said Tuvok.  “What made him change his mind?”

“Ondarra realized that his employer wasn’t trying to start a war with the Federation; he was trying to frame someone.”  Gole paused, searching his memory for the person’s name.  “Now who was it?”

“The Maquis,” B’Elanna murmured under her breath.

“Yes!” Gole exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table.  “That’s it!  They were trying to frame the Maquis.”  He looked at her quizzically.  “How did you know?”

She pursed her lips.  “Lucky guess.”

“The Maquis were supposed to think that Ondarra was going to help them, but in the end, they’d be blamed for something they hadn’t done.  All Ondarra had to do was set it up.”

“Didn’t your cousin have any qualms about framing innocent people?” B’Elanna growled.

Gole shrugged.  “We live in a small village.  We were struggling to eat.  We can’t afford to be concerned about much beyond our own needs.  I’m sorry, but that’s the honest truth.  You can’t have many qualms when it’s a question of whether there’s food on the table for your wife and children.”  

“Surely there was another way for him to put food on the table.  Innocent people died because of your cousin’s greed!” Torres retorted, but Tuvok gave her a stern look, letting her know that this was not what they were here to discuss.  

“Did Ondarra ever mention any names of places or people connected with this job?” Tuvok asked.

“Hmm.  I don’t think so.”  Gole concentrated hard, his brow furrowing.  Then, suddenly, his face lit up.  “Wait, there was one thing!  He talked about visiting a woman.  I think she was in prison for something.”

“What woman?” Torres demanded, inching her face closer to Gole’s.

The Bajoran looked flustered.  “I don’t remember her name.”

“Try,” B’Elanna snarled.

Gole gulped.  The Klingon woman didn’t look like someone he wanted to tangle with.  “I think it started with an S.  Sarah?  Sira?  Seta?”

“Sveta?” asked B’Elanna.  “Was it Sveta?”

Gole’s eyes lit up.  “Yes, that was it!  Sveta.  He visited a woman named Sveta in prison.”    The Bajoran paused, anxiously looking to Torres and Tuvok for their approval.  “Does that help you?”

“Thank you, Mr. Piva,” said Tuvok.  “You have been very helpful.”  

As the two officers moved to stand, Gole reached out and grabbed B’Elanna’s sleeve.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “Ondarra never meant for anyone to die.  He just wanted to help his family.”

Torres’ expression softened; the Bajoran was obviously wracked with guilt - probably over a great many things.  This was something she could identify with.  “Yeah,” she mumbled.  “It’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.”

Tuvok stood and B’Elanna followed him out of the bar.  “You were leading the witness, Lieutenant.”

“We got what we wanted, didn’t we?” Torres retorted.  “We know that the Bajoran had something to do with the disappearance of Sveta and the others, and that some Br’nai official paid him for his services.  Isn’t that enough to tie the Br’nai to what happened in Paris?”

“Not conclusively.  The evidence is purely speculative at this point.  Mr. Piva didn’t mention the Br’nai by name.”

“What do we do now?”

“We must go to Br’nai ourselves and attempt to discover who paid Piva Ondarra for his services and exactly what those services were.”

“Starfleet isn’t going to like that,” Torres pointed out.

Tuvok looked down at her.  “No, I do not believe they will.”

A cloud of dust blew across the surface, spiraling upward and then down again.  Mini-twisters of sand formed, swirled and disbanded, tossing grains of dirt in every direction.  The sand assaulted three humans as they attempted to trudge through it, shielding their eyes with their arms, squinting against the sun’s harsh glare, their feet slogging through the dunes.  They tramped up the hill in silence, two of them lost in memories, one lost in guilt, and when they reached the top, they could see a small encampment on the other side.  Shielded from the harshest sand storms by mounds on all sides, several small buildings huddled together as if they could protect each other by their closeness.  The three people slipped and slid down the slope, their boots ill equipped for the terrain.  By the time they reached the bottom of the ravine, grains of sand had found their way into their boots and under their clothes.  As they righted themselves and, in vain, brushed at the dust that covered them, they examined the encampment.

The harsh climate of Montfermeil had not been kind to the small structures that comprised the old Maquis camp.  A broken window creaked and banged as the wind blew it open and then shut it again.  The severe atmospheric conditions had corroded the bottoms of the doors, and their jagged edges hung unevenly, allowing sand and insects easy entrance.  Around the hills, the wind howled, and Chakotay shivered.  There were ghosts in this place.

Mike Ayala looked at his friend and saw in Chakotay’s haunted expression a mirror for his own feelings.  Neither of them had ever thought they would return to Montfermeil, not after the rest of the Maquis had been killed during the war.  It had been better to leave this place and others like it alone.  Yet here they were, confronted unexpectedly with the specter of the past.  Mike politely excused himself, sensing his old friend’s desire to be alone with Janeway.  “I’m going to see if there’s anything we can salvage in the old command center,” he said.  Chakotay nodded and then moved towards one of the dilapidated structures.  

“You lived here?” Kathryn asked in disbelief as she followed him.  A scorpion-like creature skittered across the sand in front of them.

“Sometimes.  We had several places like this - places where we could hide from both the Federation and Cardassia.”  Chakotay pressed his palm to the metal door, and it groaned against the pressure, opening reluctantly.  He stepped over the threshold and felt a chill run down his spine.  The air inside the cabin was hot, stifling, but he suddenly felt cold.  What was the expression?  Someone is walking over your grave.  The smell of stale air filled his nostrils as he looked around the room.  He had spent many sleepless nights in this cabin, planning attacks against the Cardassians, remaining awake for fear that he and his cell would be discovered.  His eyes moved to one corner, where a cot remained, covered in blankets that had dried and stiffened in the intervening years.  He walked over and touched one; it crumbled beneath his fingers.  

He and Seska had spent nights huddled together on that cot, clinging to each other, desperate to feel a connection that affirmed life rather than destroyed it.  In another corner sat a small stove where he had cooked many meals for Roberto, Henley, Bendera, and others.  They were all dead now, but he could feel their presence in the room as if they had just been there.  The table where they had sat lay toppled over, one of its legs disintegrated.  He stepped towards the old communications console and as he raised his fingers to the grimy keypad, he could almost see Sveta’s face on the screen and hear her relaying information about Cardassian movements.

Kathryn watched him as he ran his fingers down the console, drawing lines in the dirt.  Only one thing was clear to her in that moment; she had brought him back to a place to which he never should have had to return.  “I’m sorry.”  The dryness in her mouth and throat caused her voice to crack.

Chakotay whirled around and stared at her as if he had forgotten her presence entirely.  “Why?”

“You left this behind you and made a better life for yourself.  Now you’ve been forced to return here because of my mistakes.”  She gestured to the room around them.  “No one should have to live this way.  Not you.  Not Mike Ayala.  I’ve taken your lives away from you.”  She did not say, “again,” but he heard it nonetheless.  

She was not prepared for the explosion that followed, and his next words knocked her back as if he had physically struck her.  “Damn it, Kathryn!  When are you going to give up that line?  I don’t want to hear about your guilt, or how you feel responsible for what happened to me.  I chose to come after you. I chose to disobey orders.  I knew the risks and I was willing to take them.  Saving your life is worth more to me than any Starfleet career, and I came back here of my own free will.  If you can’t accept that, maybe you should just go.”  He pointed at the door, towering over her, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Fine.  Maybe I should.”  She broke his gaze and took two steps towards the door, but the floor creaked beneath her feet, saying, stay, and she stopped, her back to him, her feet frozen to the floor, her breath stuck in her throat.  What can I say to you, Chakotay? she thought.  How can I tell you what I feel?  I am sorry.  I’m sorry for dragging you into this.  I’m sorry that the Br’nai tortured you because of me; I’m sorry that your career and your reputation are on the line.  I’m sorry that you love me because I’ll never be able to give you the life that you deserve.  

“Do you think you’re the only one struggling with guilt?” he asked softly, seeing her hesitation.  “I look around this room, and all I see are the people I couldn’t protect, who I wasn’t there for when it really counted.  They’re all dead, Kathryn!”  His voice escalated as he spoke.  “They’re all dead and I’m here.  I look around me and all I can see are people I loved and couldn’t save.”  His voice broke and he fought back a sob, but something in the room tore it from him, and he sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

Janeway turned around slowly, and her breath shuddered in her chest as a chill passed through her and the hair on her arms stood on end.  Part of her wanted to continue towards the door, step outside and leave Chakotay to his grief.  She didn’t want to confront her emotions or his, but wanted to lock this moment away with all the other ghosts of their past.  Instead, she stepped towards him, and the floor creaked under her feet, murmuring, yes.  Then she took another small step, and another.  And then she was on her knees beside him, lifting his hands from his face and pulling him into an embrace.  His body convulsed with sobs, and she held him tightly, not realizing that tears were streaming down her own cheeks.  She stroked his hair with one hand and pressed her lips to his head, to his cheek, to his ear, whispering his name over and over again.

Then she had his face in her hands, and she was pressing her lips to his eyes and his forehead, where they lingered against his tattoo.  His stubble grazed her soft skin, and she tasted the salt of his tears as her mouth brushed against his cheek.  And then her lips were on his, touching softly, gently, and his arm around her waist pulled her more firmly against him.  His other hand cradled her head, deepening the kiss as the salt of their tears mingled with the taste of each other.  

She finally broke away, gasping for breath, and they leaned against each other, foreheads touching, taking in great gulps of air as if they had been deprived of oxygen for hours.  Then he gathered her against him, clutching her body as if holding a life line, and her arms enfolded him, both gaining support and giving it.  They remained there for a long time, locked together, not caring that their knees ached from the hard floor or that their backs would be stiff when they finally arose.  Outside, the wind cooed softly, comforting, and inside, the ghosts breathed a collective sigh and then vanished.

Chapter Text

18

Trojan Horse

“Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.”
    -Homer, The Iliad

Ambassador V’tan smiled.  Everything was going according to plan.  Janeway was out of the way - first she was discredited, and then she resigned.  He had to admit to being the tiniest bit apprehensive about that piece of information.  She had been a threat as an admiral, and he had needed to eliminate the power and influence she had wielded, but as a free agent, if she chose to follow the lawless behavior of her Maquis colleagues, she might be even more dangerous.  She had to be watched, carefully.  The problem was, she had disappeared without a trace, and even his operatives hadn’t been able to locate her.  No matter.  They would find her, eventually.

Other aspects of his plot were going even better than he had hoped.  He held powerful sway over key members of the Federation Council and Starfleet Command.  Dr. M’hel’s “scanning” device would soon be installed on all Starfleet vessels per Admiral Nechayev’s orders.  As soon as the installation was complete, he could initiate the final phase of his scheme.  M’hel was working on that final phase at this very moment, and V’tan placed a subspace transmission to the Br’nai Foundation for Scientific Research and Development to learn how the doctor was progressing.  An assistant answered, “Master V’tan!  What an honor!  How may I assist you today?”

“Enough with the pleasantries.  Get me Dr. M’hel.”  The assistant bowed and apologized profusely, running off to find the doctor.

A few minutes later, M’hel’s face appeared on the screen.  “Calling to check up on me?” he asked with a thin smile.

“How are they progressing?” V’tan asked.

M’hel’s toothy grin grew wider, and his beady eyes bulged out of his skull.  “Stage four is complete.  They are developing exactly as I anticipated.”

“Good,” said V’tan, feeling excitement at the prospect of being so close to their goal.  “When will they reach stage five?”

“It’s a delicate process, you know.  It can’t be rushed or we risk instability.  It will take them approximately two or three weeks to reach stage five.  But then, the entire quadrant will be at our fingertips.”  M’hel laughed, a thin, nasal sound.

“You’ve done well, M’hel.  Very well.  Keep me informed of your progress.  V’tan out.”  As the transmission ended, V’tan threw his head back in laughter.  Once he launched the final phase of his plan, the Federation would be at his mercy, and he would be unstoppable.

“Tea.  Earl grey.  Hot.”  Picard lifted the mug from the replicator and took a sip as he glanced out the ready room window at the blue and green globe they orbited.  He had attempted to contact Kathryn Janeway several times with no luck.  Her resignation had shocked him, and he knew there had to be more to the story than met the eye.  Starfleet’s official report cited “personal reasons,” but his experience with her taught him that there was very little that would cause Janeway to dessert Starfleet.  What concerned him even more was that he was now unable to locate her.  Starfleet had downplayed her resignation in the media, and they had downplayed her apparent disappearance even more.  This meant either that they knew where she was and didn’t want to say, or that they didn’t care where she was, and neither option sounded good to Picard.

The door chime interrupted his musings.  “Come.”  The door swished open, and Crusher and Troi entered.  “Doctor, Counselor, have a seat.”

Crusher handed him a PADD.  “I think you’ll want to see this.  I pulled some strings at Starfleet Medical, and I was able to get my hands on Dr. Yathaw’s medical report from Ambassador V’tan’s initial arrival.”

“Good work, Doctor.  Tell me what I’m looking at.”  

“The ambassador has a rare birth defect among his people, one that enlarges the brain’s frontal lobe.  Dr. Yathaw detected elevated levels of psionic activity.”

“Psionic?  As in telepathic?

“Usually that’s what a psionic field implies.  But as far as we know, the Br’nai aren’t telepathic.”

“Speculation?”

“The unusual development of his brain could cause an imbalance in his psyche; he might have one area of intelligence that is particularly developed, but be unable to comprehend other things.”

“Like a person who’s particularly gifted at languages but can’t grasp a basic concept in math?”

“Yes, but taken to the extreme.  For example, he might be a brilliant scientist or diplomat but have no moral center at all.”  

“Such a defect combined with telepathic abilities could yield frightening results,” said Troi.

Picard sat back in his chair, stroking his chin with his hand.  “Is it possible that he could control another person?”

“I don’t know,” answered Beverly.  “I don’t have enough information.”

“I see.  What else were you able to find?”

“This is not the first time that V’tan has dealt with Starfleet,” said Deanna.  

“Oh?”  Picard was genuinely surprised.

Troi nodded.  “In 2368, the Federation starship Adelphi responded to a distress call from a ship near Br’nai.  We had previously been unaware of the Br’nai’s existence because, at the time, they didn’t have warp technology, and their planet was heavily shielded to prevent detection by outsiders.  They were extremely xenophobic, Captain.”

“Who sent the distress call?”

“According to Captain Darson’s logs, the distress call was sent by a rebel group who had illegally manufactured a rudimentary warp ship.  The ship’s technology was crude and their warp field had destabilized.  They issued a distress call, and Captain Darson beamed the occupants of the ship aboard.”

“And the one of them was V’tan?” Picard asked.

“V’tan, his wife and several other Br’nai were beamed to the Adelphi.  When Captain Darson realized that they were outlaws seeking assistance to overthrow their government, he beamed them back down to the planet immediately and informed them he couldn’t help them.”

“I see.”

“There’s one other thing, Captain,” Deanna added.  “Ambassador V’tan’s wife was killed during that mission.  She died aboard the Adelphi.”

“Was she wounded when they beamed over?” Crusher asked.

“No,” replied Deanna.  “There was a transporter accident.  The logs from the Adelphi describe a pregnant alien woman who beamed aboard.  No one knew that our transporters would be fatal to pregnant Br’nai women.  Captain Darson said that this doctor did everything he could to save the woman, but nothing could prevent her death once she had used the transporter.  She died in sickbay with her husband at her side.”

“V’tan,” realized Crusher.  Deanna nodded solemnly.  “Well at least that begins to explain his vendetta against the Federation.  Maybe he blames us for his wife’s death.”

Geordi’s voice came over the comm.  “Engineering to Captain Picard.”

“Picard here.”

“I think you better come down here, Captain.  We found something.”  

Picard exchanged glances with Crusher and Troi as he stood from his chair.  “On my way.”

There had been little to salvage from the old camp at Montfermeil - a few power cells, a spare tricorder.  The Hugh had a small cabin at the back with a sleeping area, and Janeway, Chakotay, and Ayala had agreed to take turns sleeping there rather than attempt to resuscitate one of the old cabins on the planet.  They hoped that their stay on B-612 would be short-lived.

While Chakotay had been in his underground San Francisco hideout, Mike had closely examined the Hugh’s database and found the scans Seven had taken while in orbit of Br’nai.  At the time, Seven had been focused on the Br’nai launch pad, and the fact that it had not, in fact, malfunctioned, but she had downloaded a tremendous amount of data that warranted further analysis.  It was to this task that Kathryn, Chakotay and Mike now set themselves.  They went over the data with a fine tooth comb, examining every iota of information, looking for anything that would serve as proof of their suspicions or grant them insight into a Br’nai weakness.

Janeway emerged from the rear cabin where she’d managed to sleep for a few hours after the emotional encounter she and Chakotay had shared at the old camp.  They had walked back to the Hugh with their arms around each other but hadn’t exchanged a word since then.  She could feel the tension between them as she asked, “How’s it going?”

“There’s a lot of information here,” Ayala said.  “The Hugh’s sensors are programmed to pick up on all kinds of fluctuations, even if you’re not scanning for them directly.  There’s a lot of embedded data to sift through.”

“Anything that might link our Br’nai friends to the Paris bombing?  Or prove that Dr. M’hel’s research is sanctioned by the government?”

“Not yet,” Ayala said.

“We did find something interesting when we were cross referencing our findings with the historical database,” said Chakotay.  “It appears that there was a faction of the Br’nai population that wanted to petition for membership to the Federation about twelve years ago, but the planetary leadership wouldn’t have it.  There was nearly a civil war over the issue.”

“What happened?” Janeway asked.

“The Federation would have denied them membership at the time because even though their society was extremely technologically advanced, they weren’t warp capable.”

“Because their leaders insisted on isolationist policies,” Janeway realized aloud.

Chakotay nodded.  “There’s a footnote here.  A rebellion emerged, led by a group of young people who were intent on ending those policies for good.”

“But that’s not the most interesting part,” put in Ayala.  “The movement’s leaders included two up-and-coming Br’nai politicians.”

“Let me guess,” Janeway said, “one of them was Ambassador V’tan.”

Mike nodded.  “You got it.  And the other was the current emperor, Ch’a’fen.”

Kathryn stepped forward to look past the two men at the data on the screen in front of them.  She stood behind Chakotay’s chair, placing a hand on his shoulder.  She felt him exhale at the contact as some of the tension between them evaporated.  If Mike noticed the gesture, he didn’t show it.  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Janeway said.  “If V’tan and Ch’a’fen really do want to be members of the Federation, why would they be involved in a plot against us now?”

“Maybe it’s not them,” Mike suggested.

“Or maybe things have changed,” offered Chakotay.  “The records get pretty spotty after that.  It’s not clear exactly how the rebels managed to secure public favor and garner power for themselves.”

“Another piece of the puzzle,” said Janeway.

Chakotay nodded, and, savoring the warmth of Kathryn’s hand on his shoulder, he turned to Ayala.  “Get some rest, Mike.  It’s your turn.”

“You’ve gone without sleep at least as long as I have,” Ayala objected.

Chakotay shook his head.  “I’m not tired.  Go on.”

“Okay,” Mike replied, not sounding convinced.  “I just need a couple hours.”

“Sweet dreams,” Janeway said dryly, and Ayala disappeared into the back of the shuttle.  Chakotay swiveled in his chair and pulled Kathryn against him, resting his head against her abdomen.  She ran her hand through his hair.  “You okay?”  

She felt him nod against her.  “I am now.”  

“I got a little wrapped up in myself back there.  I’m sorry, I...”

“Kathryn,” he cut her off, pulling back to look up at her, “you don’t need to apologize.  We’ve both been through so much.”

“We have.”  

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”  She caressed his cheek and then broke the contact, taking the chair beside him.  “Let’s get back to work.”

An hour later, she glanced over at Chakotay and noticed his head falling forward as his eyes threatened to close.  “Hey,” she said softly, jostling his arm, “why don’t you take the other bed.  I can work on my own for a while.”

He blinked a few times as he realized he had been nodding off.  “I’m all right,” he said.  “Maybe I’ll just get some coffee.”  He headed for the shuttle’s replicator.

“Chakotay, get some rest.  I’ll work faster if I’m not worried about keeping you awake all the...”  She broke off suddenly as something on her console caught her eye, and she gasped.

Chakotay heard the sharp intake of breath from behind him and whirled around to see a look of shock on Kathryn’s face.  “What is it?”

“Chakotay, look at this.”

He stepped back over to the console.  “It looks like a sensor echo.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought, too, at first.  That’s probably why Seven dismissed it.  But I think it’s more than that.  I think these readings are masked to make it look like a sensor echo.  Look at the high concentration of tetryon particles here.  It might be some sort of cloaking device.”

His tiredness suddenly replaced with a sense of urgency, he sat back down in the seat beside her.  “I think I can compensate for the distortion.”

“Try adjusting the phase variance by another point oh two percent.”

“How’s that?”

They watched as the readings became clear.  “That’s it, Chakotay!  Proof of the underground facility where we were held.”

“Well, we already knew it was there.  But look at these readings.”

Kathryn examined them carefully.  “Life forms.  Thousands of them.  It’s impossible to tell exactly how many.”  She paused.  “Counselor Troi sensed some sort of presence.”  

“It must have been these life forms.  But what are they?  An underground society?”

“I doubt it.  Maybe one of Dr. M’hel’s science experiments.”

“Clones?” Chakotay suggested.

“Maybe.  That would make sense, with all his genetic research.”

“But what is their purpose?  Why are they contained underground?”

Kathryn looked at him, a worried expression on her face.  “I don’t know, Chakotay, but it’s not good.  We can be damned sure of that.”

It had taken Seven a long time to get used to the constant noise aboard the Borg vessel.  In comparison, Voyager was a quiet ship, and the Pathfinder laboratory had been quieter still, with only the occasional presence of Commander Harkins or Lieutenant Barclay to disrupt her solitude.  The silence that had been so difficult for her to adjust to after her separation from the Collective had become a welcome companion.

But Axum’s ship was filled with the constant whirring of Borg technology and shuffling of heavy feet, and Seven found it unsettling, particularly at this moment, when she already felt quite anxious.  She did not understand why she should feel so nervous about seeing Axum after his operation, but she did.  The Doctor had agreed to remove his implants, and she wondered how closely the person she was about to see would resemble the man she had loved in Unimatrix Zero.  She glanced down at her console, realizing that she had been distracted from her work again.  The task was menial, at any rate, a simple repair job which she could easily complete without putting all of her attention on it.  She heard the shuffle of Borg feet behind her.

“Seven, are you finished with those repairs yet?” Isha asked.

“They are almost complete.”

“A little distracted?”

Seven was about to protest when she realized the futility of lying.  “I am preoccupied,” she admitted.

“I would be, too, if I were in your position.”

Axum’s second-in-command had proven to be caring, considerate and friendly, and had made an effort to include Seven and the EMH in shipboard life ever since they had come aboard.  “I am uncertain how Axum’s operation will affect our relationship.”

“Why would it?” Isha asked.  “Will your feelings for him change because of how he looks?”

“No, my feelings are a response to his personality and his thoughts.  His appearance is irrelevant.”

“Do you think that his feelings for you will change because he had some implants removed?”

Seven paused.  “I am uncertain.”

“Seven, I’ve known Axum for a long time, and for as long as I’ve known him, for as long as he’s been liberated from the Collective, he’s loved you.  I don’t think that anything could change that.”

“Thank you.  I hope you are correct.”

“Correct about what?” asked a voice from behind them.

Seven whirled around and found herself face to face with Axum.  He wore clothes now - a simple grey outfit instead of Borg armor, and his mechanical appendage had been replaced by a real arm and hand.  His face remained halfway coated in metal, but hair was beginning to grow from the top of his head, and his skin had taken on a creamy tan rather than the pasty white of a Borg drone.  “Axum!” she exclaimed.

He smiled.  “What do you think?”

She had a hard time finding her voice as she stared at him.  “You look...  You look wonderful!”  He opened his arms and she stepped into them, feeling his warm body pressed against hers.  She could tell that beneath his clothes he still had many metal components, but her own body was also permeated by Borg technology, and she did not find it offensive.  She marveled at the sensation of his arms around her, something she had only experienced in the dreamworld of Unimatrix Zero.  She felt her body temperature begin to rise at his proximity, and a pleasingly warm sensation began in her loins as his hands rubbed up and down the length of her back.  She was familiar with these feelings from her time with Chakotay and a few other men with whom she had chosen to explore a physical relationship, but she had never been so affected by platonic contact.  Flushed, she broke away from the embrace.

“I’m glad you approve,” Axum said softly.

“Well?” asked the Doctor as he appeared in the corridor behind Axum.  “What do you think, Seven?”

It took her a moment to regain her voice so she could say, “Thank you, Doctor.”  She slid past Axum so she could place a kiss on the EMH’s cheek.  

The hologram blushed at the contact.  “Axum has already thanked me, Seven.  You don’t have to.”

The moment was interrupted by Laura’s cry.  “Axum, come quickly!  We’ve detected the Collective.”

“Energize,” Picard ordered the transporter operator.  A moment later, he, Geordi and Harry Kim stood on the grounds of Starfleet headquarters.  Deanna Troi was already waiting for them.  “Shall we?” Picard suggested, gesturing to the building ahead of them.  Following the captain’s lead, the away team entered the building.

“Captain, I’ve studied everything I could find on Ambassador V’tan,” Troi said as they walked.  “I’ve read memos, watched news interviews, researched his personal history.”

“And what have you found, Counselor?”

“He’s extremely confident.  He’s a born diplomat and an excellent politician.  Within only a few months of his appointment to Earth, he had already made several close friends on the Federation Council.  Everything I’ve seen indicates that he is extremely intelligent.  We mustn’t underestimate him, Captain.”

“Understood.  Thank you, Counselor.”

They entered the briefing room that had been designated for their meeting.  Nechayev and V’tan were already seated, and Picard had the distinct impression that he had interrupted an intimate conversation.  “Admiral, Ambassador,” he greeted them.  “This is my chief engineer, Geordi LaForge, my operations officer, Harry Kim, and Counselor Deanna Troi.”

“Was it necessary to bring such a large group, Captain?” V’tan asked.  “Surely you would be capable of conducting this conversation on your own.”

Picard bristled at the ambassador’s insinuation.  “I believe each of these officers has a valuable contribution to make to the discussion.”

“Just what is this discussion about, Captain Picard?”

Picard glanced at Nechayev, who had remained uncharacteristically silent.  Why was she allowing the ambassador to run the meeting?  Alynna was usually the first to take charge in this type of situation.  Her face gave him no clue as to her reasoning; her eyes were fixed on V’tan.  He looked over at Troi, but she shook her head - nothing yet.  “Mr. LaForge and Mr. Kim, please proceed.”

Harry and Geordi pulled up a schematic of the Br’nai device on a monitor.  “When we were running some tests before installing the Br’nai scanner--” Geordi began, but Nechayev interrupted him.

“Captain Picard, your orders were to install the technology immediately.”

“We will install the scanning device as quickly as possible, Admiral.  However, Mr. LaForge had to run some diagnostics to make sure that the technology could be installed aboard the Enterprise.”

“You were given schematics and instruction for installation,” Nechayev replied.

“Admiral, don’t you think that it’s prudent to run some diagnostics before installing alien technology?” Geordi asked.

“Not in this case,” answered Nechayev.

“I did what I felt was necessary for the safety of my ship and crew,” said Picard.      

“Perhaps if you could tell us why you felt no scans were necessary, everyone would feel more comfortable with the idea,” suggested Troi.

Nechayev hesitated for a moment, and Picard felt Deanna tense beside him.  “The safety of the Federation is paramount,” the admiral said carefully.  “The Br’nai technology must be installed immediately.”

Harry spoke up, gesturing to the screen between himself and LaForge.  “The scanning device contains a trigger.  It’s well masked, hard to detect.  It would appear harmless unless you were to examine it closely.  The device does operate as a scanner, and it does detect the cloaked bombs, as the Br’nai claim.  But the trigger can be activated from a signal beacon at a great distance, and if the switch is flipped, it will cause a cascade failure in our warp drive.”

“None of our analysis revealed any such threat,” said the ambassador, sounding offended.  “You must be mistaken.”

“Yes,” repeated Nechayev.  “You must be mistaken.”  

Picard felt Deanna’s leg press against his under the table.  He glanced at her and saw an intense concentration through the mask of calm that she held over her features.

“I triple checked this analysis,” Geordi insisted.  “There’s no mistake.”

“Captain Picard, your orders stand,” Nechayev said, effectively ending the conversation.  “If you are unwilling to comply, I will have you relieved of duty, and I will find someone who will do as I ask.”

The color drained from Picard’s face at the threat, and he said in a stony voice, “Understood, Admiral.”

“Dismissed.”

As the team was exiting, Picard turned back to Nechayev.  “You’ll have to join me for a Bularian canape while the Enterprise is in orbit, Admiral.”

Alynna smiled tiredly.  “If I have time, Jean-Luc, I’d enjoy that very much.”

Silently, Picard led the rest of the team out of the room.  When the door closed behind them, Kim said, “That was strange.”

“Agreed,” said Picard with a nod.  “Counselor?”  Deanna shook her head, obviously not wanting to discuss the subject in uncertain territory.  “Picard to Enterprise.  Four to beam up.”  

As soon as they rematerialized, Deanna spoke.  “That is Alynna Nechayev,” she said, “but she’s being controlled, by Ambassador V’tan.”

“Controlled?” Picard asked as they stepped off the transporter pad.  “How?”

“I don’t know, sir.  It’s almost as if he’s tapped into some of her emotions and magnified them.  It’s still her, but she’s being manipulated.”

“Do you know how to stop it?”

“No, sir.  But I have a feeling that Admiral Nechayev isn’t the only one under the ambassador’s control.”

   
As V’tan opened the door to his apartment, he berated himself.  He had made a stupid mistake, exercising his unique abilities in front of the Betazoid counselor.  He had become overconfident, and it had made him sloppy.  He resolved not to make the same error again and poured himself a glass of tirin.  As he sipped it, he began to relax.  His slip-up hardly had disastrous consequences.  The Betazoid might have an inkling of his abilities, but she’d never be able to stop him.  He already had control of everyone who ranked above her - everyone who mattered, anyway.

Now that M’hel’s project was nearing its final stage, all their preparations would pay off.  Even if Picard refused to install the scanning device aboard the Enterprise, Nechayev would order it installed in the rest of the fleet, and then V’tan would have control over Starfleet at the flick of a switch.  Picard was nothing more than a stumbling block, as Janeway had been, something he could easily overcome.  The crew of the Enterprise would never be able to prove their suspicions; they would never get the opportunity.  By the time they put all the pieces together, V’tan would hold the ultimate power in the quadrant.  

His meeting with Admiral Nechayev and Admiral Ross the following day would firm up his plans.  He marveled at how easy it had been to gain control of the two admirals.  He had always heard that Starfleet mental training was so advanced.  He shrugged and sipped his tirin.  It was just another area in which humanity fell short.  

There were a few Starfleet officers that were not so easily manipulated.  Their fears lay far below the surface of their emotions, and they were rarely, if ever, motivated by them.  Someone who wasn’t motivated by fear or by a desire to please others was almost impossible for him to control.  There were no feelings of doubt and insecurity for him to magnify, no doorway into the soul through which he could enter and begin to exercise his control.  With Ch’a’fen, that doorway had been his intense desire for others’ approval - V’tan’s approval in particular.  With Ross, it had been fear of the Maquis and another Dominion War.  Perhaps someone like Kathryn Janeway would have been a worthy opponent, but she had resigned and was no longer a threat to him.  Picard, too, was impossible to manipulate, but he would never be able to stand against the combined forces of Starfleet Command and the Federation Council.

As he scanned the day’s reports, something from the Federation Council minutes caught his eye.  When he began to read the item, he burst out laughing.  Councilwoman Lilith Baines had introduced a new bill that afternoon, a resolution “to further the equality of races in the area of space travel and exploration.”  The measure had three provisos, and as he read them his smug smile grew.  1) The number of Starfleet ships in any given region of space shall not exceed the number of ships of any other race in that same area.  2) Starfleet ships in a given region of space may not exceed the highest speed possible to ships of other races in the area, and 3) Starfleet will share whatever data it gathers in a region with all other races in the region, provided this does not violate the Prime Directive.  The memo concluded, “This measure is designed to eliminate any unfair advantage held by Starfleet in any given region of space, and to promote good will among the races of the quadrant.”

V’tan shook his head in wonder as he read the memo again.  Baines didn’t require his control; whatever reason she had for choosing her own agenda, it played into his hands perfectly.  Their combined effort to get rid of Janeway had proven that.  Baines already had a loyal following in the Federation Council, and he would make sure that Thelos and his faction supported the bill.  In fact, V’tan imagined it would be quite a popular measure.  Any species who had always complained that they “never had a chance” because Starfleet had a monopoly on space travel would be anxious to support it.  Yes, he would do whatever was necessary to ensure that the bill would pass.  M’hel’s device installed on all Federation ships would become a safeguard rather than a necessity.  With Starfleet relegated to mediocrity, the stage would be set for the achievement of his ultimate goal - absolute power over the entire quadrant.

Chapter Text

19

Unleashed

                        And Caesar’s spirit, raging for revenge,
                        With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
                        Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice
                        Cry ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the dogs of war.
                            -William Shakespeare
                            Julius Caesar, Act III, scene i

The Hugh hummed as it traversed the transwarp conduit that led from the Badlands to an aperture near Br’nai.  Janeway, Chakotay, and Ayala hoped that the aliens hadn’t yet found a way to counteract the effects of the Hugh’s multi-adaptive shielding which kept it hidden from their sensors.  Mike was at the helm with Chakotay beside him, while Janeway had escaped to the other compartment of the shuttle to further analyze Seven’s sensor readings.  The two men had ridden in silence for some time before Ayala threw a sidelong glance at Chakotay.  The older man seemed preoccupied.  “You’re quiet,” Mike observed.

“Is there something I should say?”

“Nope.”  There was a moment of silence before Ayala added quietly, “It was strange, wasn’t it, being back there?”

“Yeah.”

Another span of silence stretched between them.  “I kind of felt them there, you know?  Bendera, Sveta, Roberto, all of them.”

“Me, too.”  A console beeped.  “There’s a minor fluctuation in the main power grid,” Chakotay said.

“Compensating.”  Ayala fiddled with the controls for a moment.  “Should be good now, boss.”  Another pause.  “How did Janeway react?”

Chakotay’s immediate response was a desire to tell Mike to mind his own business, but then he reminded himself that they weren’t in a command structure anymore, and Ayala had been his friend long before he’d been his subordinate.  “I think it was difficult for her to see.”

“No harder than it must have been for you.”  Chakotay gave him a harsh glance, and Mike shrugged.  “Just calling ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“No, you’re right,” Chakotay admitted.  “I wasn’t prepared for the way I reacted.  I thought that life was behind me.”

“Things aren’t like they were then, Chakotay.”

“Are you sure about that?  We’re running from the Federation in a stolen shuttle and might be about to start a war with the Br’nai.  It’s the Maquis all over again.”

“Someone has to fight the good fight.”

“Yep.  And I guess it’s going to be you and me till it kills us.”  Chakotay scowled and turned back to the controls.

“I’m not the same guy as I was back then, and neither are you, Chakotay.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Ayala saw something flicker across Chakotay’s face - shame, maybe?  Anger?  He paused before answering, “Of course I’m sure.  Aren’t you?”

“I thought I was, but after what happened on Br’nai...”  He paused as a shudder ran through him.  “I beat one of those guards to a pulp.  I was so angry, Mike.  I haven’t felt that way since the days when we were taking out Cardassians.  I pounded that Br’nai bastard with my bare fists.”  Chakotay looked down at his hands, as if seeing the alien’s blue blood covering them.  “His blood was everywhere.  Even after he was dead, I didn’t stop.  I just kept pummeling him.”  He looked up at Ayala.  “I thought that part of me was dead and gone, but somewhere, deep down, I’m still that angry man.  I can’t escape him.”

“Maybe you can’t.  Maybe none of us can.  It’s part of who you are, but it’s not the sum total of your identity.  Chakotay, when I met you, I never would have thought it would be possible that we would spend seven years serving on a Starfleet ship together.  But in the Delta Quadrant, I saw that angry man who wanted revenge against the Cardassians become a Starfleet officer and a diplomat, and it was your example that helped the rest of us let go of our anger and put aside our hatred.”  Chakotay looked at Ayala thoughtfully, digesting his words.  “We might be fighting the good fight, but we’re not the angry hotheads we used to be.  I’ve got my family to think about, and you’ve...”  Mike hesitated, not wanting to tread on a forbidden topic.

“I’ve what?”

“Well... you’ve got Janeway, right?”

Do I? Chakotay wondered.  

But before he could voice his thoughts, a female voice sounded from the back of the cockpit.  “What about me?”

“Oh, nothing,” Chakotay replied, his face reddening.  “We were just wondering how your research was going.”

One glance told him she didn’t believe him for a second, but she let it go, handing him a PADD.  “I think I’ve found a way to get to the underground that doesn’t involve going through the research facility.  You see, here,” she pointed, “there’s a slight weakening in the shield grid.  It might be enough for a transporter beam to get through.”

“Good,” said Chakotay, examining the PADD.  “Mike and I will check it out.  You can stay here aboard the Hugh.”

“Chakotay,” she began in a warning tone.

“Kathryn, remember what happened the last time you went down to Br’nai?”

“What about the last time that you did?”

Ayala sensed the growing tension in the small cabin and quietly maneuvered towards the rear compartment.  He wanted to get as far away from this discussion as possible, and the other two didn’t even seem to notice his exit.  

“Kathryn, this is not up for debate.”

“Chakotay, you’re not in command here.  You can’t give me an order.”

“Of course,” he scoffed, standing from his chair and throwing his hands up.  “It comes back to protocol.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”  Tight lipped, he did not reply, and she continued, “Mike Ayala has a family to go home to.  He should be the one to remain on the shuttle.”

“Why do you always think of everyone else’s safety before your own?”

“Because I’m a Starfleet officer,” she retorted angrily, without thinking.  “That’s what we do.”  Suddenly, she stopped.  She wasn’t a Starfleet officer anymore.  Chakotay’s eyes were wide as he watched her, waiting for her reaction to her own blunder, but she pushed the moment aside, schooling her features.  “Besides, there’s no guarantee the shuttle is going to be any safer than the ground.”

Chakotay turned away from her, bracing himself against the bulkhead with both hands.  “That’s true,” he admitted, letting out a breath, trying to control the myriad of emotions rising in his chest.  Then he whirled around, looking at her exterior calm, the mask of command on her face.  “Didn’t what we saw back there affect you at all?”

She was taken aback by the question.  “What are you talking about?”

“All of it - everything we saw at Montfermeil, everything we went through on Br’nai, everything they did to you...  Is it so easy for you to pretend it never happened?”

“What does that have to do with who beams down to Br’nai?”

“Damn it, Kathryn!  Answer the question.”  She recoiled as if she had been stung, and he immediately regretted his harshness, but he stood his ground.  Before they went into one more life-or-death situation, they were going to have this out, and he didn’t care if Ayala could hear them or if their conversation was broadcast to the whole of Starfleet; he wasn’t going to let her put it off again.

She sank into one of the chairs at the head of the shuttle, crossing her legs and resting her arms on the armrests - the captain’s pose.  “Does it affect me?  Of course it does.  But I can’t let it affect our mission.  You of all people should understand that.”

His anger cooling, Chakotay sat in the chair beside her.  “I do understand that.  But this isn’t Starfleet.  There’s no protocol to follow, and I think that you fall back on that as a safety net to avoid subjects that are hard to discuss.”

She looked away from him and was silent for a moment as he watched conflicting emotions war on her face.  Finally, she said, “Yes, I suppose I do.”

Taking a deep breath, Chakotay leaned forward and took her hands in his.  “Kathryn, I know this is not the ideal time or place to have this discussion, but I realized something back there at Montfermeil.  I’ve gotten into a bad habit of letting you put off our conversations.  I know it’s a cliche, but I don’t want to die without saying some things to you.  And I don’t want you to die without hearing them.  This is pretty damn close to a suicide mission we’re on - you’ve got to admit that - so I won’t let you sit there and tell me to wait until we get back to Earth, or until the Br’nai are handled, or until Starfleet comes to its senses or until the damn sun explodes!”

Janeway squeezed his hands and replied in a shaky voice.  “If I do die, or if you do, don’t you think it will be easier on the one who’s left if there are some things we never discuss?”  She saw his mouth drop open slightly in surprise.  “I’ve lost every...”  She paused to rephrase.  “We’ve both lost so many people that we cared for deeply.  Don’t you think it’s easier to leave some things unsaid?”

“I think that if I let you walk away from this conversation, I will always regret it,” he said softly, bringing his hand up to caress her cheek.

“Chakotay,” she began, placing her hand over his.  For a second, he thought he saw a vulnerability in her eyes that he had only seen on rare occasions, and he waited patiently for her to speak.

A console beeped in front of them, breaking the moment and forcing him to turn away to see what was causing the noise.  “We’re approaching the aperture,” he said, trying to hide his frustration.  

Ayala emerged from the other room.  “What’s going on?”

“We’re about to drop out of transwarp,” Janeway informed him.  “In four, three, two...”  The ship jolted slightly as they reentered normal space just outside the range of the Br’nai sensors.

“Sensors are picking up another ship in orbit around Br’nai,” said Chakotay.  “It’s Voyager.”

“So where do we go from here?” asked Riker, looking around at the combined senior staffs of the Enterprise and the Titan who had assembled in the Titan’s briefing room.  Deanna had just informed them of her discovery about Ambassador V’tan’s unusual abilities.

“We can’t inform Starfleet Command,” said Picard.  “We have no way of knowing who else might be under his influence.”

“And it’s likely that if he’s influencing Starfleet Command, he’s also got his clutches on members of the Federation Council,” pointed out Commander Liara.

Crusher nodded.  “That certainly would explain some of the resolutions they’ve passed recently.”  Everyone around the table murmured their assent.

“Has anyone tried contacting Adm...  Kathryn Janeway?” asked Harry.

“No one’s been able to find her,” replied Riker, exchanging a glance with his wife.

“Maybe she’s who we should be looking for,” suggested Kim.

“I don’t think so,” Deanna replied.  “Starfleet has been in contact with her mother, who assured us that she has no reason to believe her daughter is missing or in danger.”      

Harry had his own suspicions about Janeway’s whereabouts since her resignation, especially since he had spoken to Tom and B’Elanna the day before.  They hadn’t said anything outright, but they’d dropped enough hints to let him know that Chakotay’s mutiny was a farce.  He hadn’t shared that information with a soul, however, knowing that Chakotay and Seven’s lives could depend on his trustworthiness.

“We need to find a way to break the ambassador’s control,” said Commander Madden, steering the conversation back to the crucial question.

“What is the extent of his powers?” asked Lieutenant Sood.  “Can he make someone do something that they wouldn’t do otherwise?”

“I don’t think so,” Troi replied.  “It seems like he taps into feelings that people already have and enhances them.  He might cause a person to do something that they would normally only think about.”

“He has a birth defect that has enlarged his frontal lobe,” explained Crusher.  “His initial exam at Starfleet Medical detected psionic activity.  It’s likely that he uses telepathy to initiate control over another person.”

“Is there a way to heal the birth defect?” Picard asked.

“I don’t know.  It’s hard to say without being able to run a more complete examination.”

“Start working on it.  Counselor Troi, I’d like you to work with Dr. Crusher if it’s alright with Captain Riker.”

“Be my guest.”

“Mr. LaForge and Mr. Kim, I’d like you to start working on the problem from another angle.  See if you can come up with some kind of isolation chamber that would block the ambassador’s abilities.”

“Kryptonite,” Kim said suddenly.

“Pardon me, Commander?”

Harry blushed and fidgeted uncomfortably as all eyes in the room shifted to him.  “Something my friend Tom Paris told me about.  It’s a fictional element from a 20th Century Earth story called Superman.  Superman has all these supernatural powers, but when he’s near kryptonite, his powers don’t work.”  Kim offered a weak smile to the other officers in the room and turned back to Picard.  “I’m sorry, sir.  That wasn’t really relevant.”

“No, no, Mr. Kim,” Picard reassured him, “it’s an apt analogy.”  The captain looked a little nostalgic.  “You know, your predecessor, Mr. Data, often likened a situation to something out of a Sherlock Holmes mystery.  You’re in good company.”  

“That you are,” agreed Geordi.  “Come on, Harry, let’s go find some kryptonite.”

“Sir,” Andrews piped up from ops, “we’re being hailed.”

“By the planet?” Tom Paris asked.

“No, sir.  By a ship of some kind, but I’m not picking anything up on sensors.”

“On screen,” Paris ordered, puzzled.  But a moment later his confused expression gave way to a broad grin.  “Admiral!”

“It’s just Kathryn, these days, Tom,” she replied.  She sat alone in the cockpit of the Hugh, dressed in civilian clothing - a simple, forest green pants suit.  Tuvok entered the bridge, and she saw him.  “Tuvok.  Permission to come aboard?”

“Granted,” the Vulcan replied.  “You may use docking bay two.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you alone?” Tuvok asked.

“I have a couple old friends with me,” she replied.  “Will they be welcome?”  She purposefully spoke obtusely, hoping that Tuvok would catch her meaning.  She needed to know if she could trust his crew with the presence of two outlaws.

“Your friends will always be welcome aboard Voyager,” Tuvok replied, “and I’m sure everyone else here would agree.”

“Thank you.”

“Docking bay two, prepare for an incoming shuttle,” Tuvok ordered.  Then he turned to Tom.  “You have the bridge.”

A few moments later, Janeway stepped off the Hugh and grasped Tuvok’s arm. “It’s good to see you, old friend,” she said.  

“And you.  There has been much speculation on your whereabouts as well as the true reason for your resignation.”

“I’m sure there has.”

Tuvok dismissed the two ensigns who manned the docking bay before asking, “Is the commander with you?”

“Yes, and Mike Ayala too.”

“I suspected as much.”

Janeway waved her hand at the shuttle, indicating it was safe for the two men to emerge.  “I thought Voyager’s test run was over, Tuvok.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “In light of recent events, it seemed logical to extend our mission.”

“So you’re a renegade, now, too?”

“I have not yet disobeyed a direct order,” Tuvok countered, “and captains of test flights have a great deal of leeway in determining when their mission has been completed.”  Chakotay and Ayala emerged from the shuttle just in time to hear this.  “Commander, Lieutenant,” the Vulcan greeted them.

“Tuvok,” Chakotay replied with a short nod as he and Ayala stepped over to join Janeway.

“What led you to Br’nai?” Kathryn asked, feeling Chakotay’s hand come to rest on the small of her back.  As Tuvok recounted the information he had learned from Quark and his visit to Bajor, her eyes began to sparkle.  “That’s the best evidence we have that the Br’nai had something to do with the Paris bombings.”

“Indeed.  I only need to track the money to a particular individual, and we will know who paid Ondarra to convince Sveta and the others to take the supply mission that led to their deaths.”

“And prove that the Maquis had nothing to do with the terrorist attack,” Chakotay added.

“Precisely.  What is the reason for your return to Br’nai?”

Janeway told him about the readings they had discovered from the underground lab.  “V’tan claims that Dr. M’hel has been imprisoned, but I want to be sure that there’s no one left in that lab performing any more experiments on innocent people.  And there’s the mystery of all those life signs beneath the surface.”

“Do you doubt Ambassador V’tan’s claim that Dr. M’hel is, in fact, in jail?” Tuvok asked.  Janeway nodded.  “If we are precise in our timing,” the Vulcan continued, “our missions could be mutually beneficial.”

“What do you have in mind?” Chakotay asked.

Tuvok outlined his plan, and when he finished, Janeway turned to him, arms crossed over her chest.  “Leaving Tom Paris in command of Voyager?” she asked skeptically.

“No,” Tuvok replied.  “You would command Voyager.”

“Have you forgotten that I am no longer a Starfleet officer?”

“In my logs, you will be entered officially as an observer.  Only the senior staff and bridge crew will know that you are in command.”

Janeway considered this for a long moment, first looking at Tuvok, then at Chakotay.  Chakotay’s soft brown eyes seemed to plead with her to agree, and she remembered their argument in the shuttle.  It was the most logical option.  Tom Paris needed to be at the helm, not in command, and there was no one else on board more qualified to command the mission than she.  “All right,” she acquiesced.  Chakotay rewarded her with a grin, and she gave him a small wink before turning back to Tuvok.  “We still need the consent of one more person.”

“Computer,” said Tuvok, “locate Mei.”

“Mei is in crew quarters on deck four.”

“Mei has been serving as a caregiver for Miral,” Tuvok explained.  

“I’ll speak to her,” Janeway said.  She turned to Chakotay and Ayala.  “I agree with Tuvok that we can trust the crew, but I still think it’s better if as few people as possible see you here.  Keep a low profile till I get back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chakotay replied with a chuckle; uniform or not, you couldn’t take the Starfleet out of Kathryn Janeway.

Tuvok went to brief the senior staff, and Janeway headed towards Tom and B’Elanna’s quarters.  She rang the bell, and a moment letter, Mei answered, holding Miral against her hip.  Her face lit up when she saw Janeway.  “Kath-ryn!  You are well?”

“Auntie Katrin!” Miral exclaimed in delight.

“Hi, Miral.”  Janeway planted a quick kiss on the girl’s cheek and sat on the sofa.  “Come sit down, Mei.”  

Mei placed Miral on the floor with some toys and joined Janeway.  “And Cha-ko-tay?”

“He’s fine.  In fact, you’ll see him soon if you are willing to do what we ask of you.”  The Br’nai girl looked up at Janeway expectantly, her dark eyes wide with wonder.  “Mei,” Janeway said, putting her hand gently on the girl’s knee, “I want you to understand that you don’t have to do what we’re asking.  If you choose not to accept this task, no one will think any less of you.  We will continue to protect you as we always have.  Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good.  Chakotay and I have discovered some new information about Dr. M’hel’s experiments.  We want to make sure that he’s really been stopped, as Ambassador V’tan claims.”

Mei closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “You need to go back to the underground place.”

“Yes.  We need to find the place where Dr. M’hel conducts his experiments.  Do you think you can find it?”

“Yes.  When I worked there, we had to bring the doctor his meals.  Sometimes, he was working in his secret room.”

“Will you take Chakotay there?”

When the young woman looked up, Janeway saw a surprising determination in her eyes, a fire that was unexpected in a girl who seemed so small and delicate.  “I will.  Dr. M’hel is evil.  If he is free, he must be stopped.”

“All right.  You’ll leave immediately.  Tuvok is telling Tom and B’Elanna now so they can make other arrangements for Miral.”

“I understand.”

Janeway’s comm badge beeped.  “Tuvok to Janeway.  Please come to the ready room at your earliest convenience.”

“On my way.”  She looked back at Mei.  “Meet us in transporter room one in half an hour.  Thank you.”  

When Janeway stepped out onto Voyager’s bridge, she was filled with conflicting emotions.  This was no longer her ship - she no longer had any right to be here - yet she was about to take command.  Tom Paris stood to greet her, enfolding her in a warm hug.  “Welcome home.”

“Thanks, Tom,” she said, pulling away and blinking back tears.  She hurried off the bridge into the ready room, collecting herself.  

“I have briefed the senior staff,” Tuvok said upon her arrival.  “Mr. Ayala will accompany Chakotay and Mei to the surface if she has agreed.”

“Yes, she’s willing.”

“Paris to Tuvok,” the comm signal interrupted them.  “We have a priority one transmission from the Enterprise.”

“Put it through to the ready room,” Tuvok ordered.  A moment later, the transmission appeared on the monitor.  “Captain Picard,” Tuvok greeted the man before him.

“Lieutenant Commander Tuvok.  It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ve been trying to reach Kathryn Janeway, but I’ve been unable to locate her.  We’ve uncovered some new information regarding the Br’nai ambassador.”

Janeway stepped around the desk, revealing herself to the screen.  “Well, I guess you’ve found me, Jean-Luc.”

“Kathryn.  It’s good to know you’re alive and well.”

“Did you have reason to suspect otherwise?”

“Not precisely, but, given recent events, one can’t be too sure.”

“I suppose not.  Tell me, what have you discovered about Ambassador V’tan?”

“The ambassador seems to have developed the ability for mind control.”  Janeway put her hands on her hips and Tuvok arched an eyebrow as Picard explained the circumstances which had led to this discovery.  “We have reason to believe that Admiral Nechayev is not the only member of the admiralty who is under the ambassador’s control.  We suspect he may be controlling members of the Federation Council as well.”

“This certainly explains a lot,” Janeway murmured.

“Is the ambassador’s control limited by distance?” asked Tuvok.

“Unfortunately, we don’t know.  Counselor Troi thinks it’s possible that he can control people from very great distances if they have a long-standing relationship.”

“Like Emperor Ch’a’fen,” Janeway breathed, catching Tuvok’s train of thought.  “Is it possible that V’tan has been using his powers to control the emperor?”

“Possible?  Yes.  But we don’t know anything for certain at this point.  I have a team working on a way to break his control.”

“If he is controlling the emperor, we might be able to work on that from here.”

Picard’s eyes widened.  “You’re at Br’nai?”

“Yes.  I can’t give you orders anymore, Jean-Luc, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that particular detail to anyone.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good luck, Jean-Luc.  Keep me informed of your progress.”

“I will, Kathryn.  And good luck to you as well.  Enterprise out.”

Picard’s words echoed in Janeway’s mind.  “Good luck,” he had said.  Well, she thought, we’re certainly going to need it.

The final stage of his life’s work was finally complete.  M’hel felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at the outcome of that morning’s experiments.  Stage five had been achieved, and all results were beyond satisfactory.  The Federation would never know what hit it, and he would have the greatest weapon in the quadrant - no, in the galaxy - at his disposal.  And he alone had achieved it - not V’tan, not Ch’a’fen, but him.  The scrawny, sickly child who had been bullied and intimidated by his fellow students would prove beyond a doubt that he was stronger and smarter than any of them.

One of the panels on the large array in front of him began to flash, and he moved quickly to see what the matter was.  When he saw the warning light, he swore under his breath and quickly placed a subspace call to Earth.  He drummed his fingers on the console as he waited for a response, but when V’tan finally appeared, he looked perturbed.  It was only belatedly that M’hel realized the ambassador was in his nightclothes.  “This had better be urgent,” V’tan growled.  “I have a long list of very important meetings tomorrow.”

“I thought you’d be interested to know that Voyager is in orbit around Br’nai.”

V’tan immediately snapped to attention.  “What is a Federation starship doing there?  I thought Voyager’s test run was supposed to have ended.”

“I don’t know, but our dear emperor obviously hasn’t sent the ship away.  If my sensors have detected them, so have his.  He’s probably meeting with them in the interest of diplomacy, or some such nonsense,” M’hel sneered.  V’tan stroked his chin, pondering this new information, but M’hel already had a suggestion in mind.  “I think that this would be an ideal opportunity to test our new weapon.”

V’tan placed both hands on the desk in front of him and leaned forward.  “You mean the experiments are complete?”

“I just ran the final sequence this morning.  The results are even better than we anticipated.”

“Better?”

M’hel nodded.  “We will have the finest fighting force in the quadrant - quite possibly in the entire galaxy.  They will be able to beat any enemy, including the Borg.”

“That is better than we expected.”

“It’s their telepathic link that makes them so superior.  I’ve managed to combine all the best attributes of the Br’nai with the gene that causes your little birth defect.  I’ve given them enhanced physical strength and visual acuity.  They will be able to see farther, hear better and work faster than any fighting force in the galaxy.  Their link will allow them to function as one mind, but they can also work as individuals if the situation requires it.”

“Well done, Hel.  Well done.”  M’hel detected a rare note of pride in his friend’s voice.  “You have proven beyond a doubt that the Br’nai are superior in the galaxy.”  The doctor gave a toothy smile, grateful for the praise.  “And perhaps you’re right.  Perhaps it is time to show the Federation our true power.”  

“Are you certain?” M’hel asked, trying not to seem too eager.

V’tan’s expression darkened and his eyes narrowed.  “Release them.”

The Br’nai capital Sri’la glistened in the sunlight.  The translucent roofs of the buildings sparkled, and the light reflected off of them, making them seem to glow.  A perfectly blue sky hovered over the city, and the sun’s rays warmed the emperor as he stood on the balcony of the Great Hall, overlooking his domain.  He had always loved this city, ever since his childhood.  Its streets led to a thousand dreams and its skyscrapers heralded endless possibilities.  Ch’a’fen remembered standing at the base of them as a child and looking up, imagining how it would feel to be above them, suspended in the sky.  The city that had once towered over him now stood at his feet, a fact that still amazed him on a daily basis.  In his heart, he offered silent thanks to V’tan.  It was because of his old friend that he was emperor, not only of Sri’la, but of all of Br’nai.

Ch’a’fen smiled into the sun’s warmth.  Some had taken to calling him the Sun Emperor because of the golden color of his hair, but he liked to think the nickname suited him because he was ushering in a brighter age for his people.  He heard the soft shuffle of feet behind him and turned away from the view to find a member of his Royal Guard standing in the doorway.

“Your Majesty,” R’fet greeted him with a bow.

“Yes, R’fet.  What is it?”

“We’ve been hailed by a ship in orbit, the Federation starship Voyager.  A Lieutenant Commander Tuvok is asking to speak with you.”

“I’ll take the call in my office.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”  The guard bowed and hurried off.

Ch’a’fen reluctantly left the balcony and headed into his office.  He activated the communications console, and a dark-skinned Vulcan appeared on the screen.  “Commander Tuvok, what is the reason for your unannounced visit?”

“Emperor Ch’a’fen, I am here investigating a matter of Federation security.  Would it be possible for us to meet in person?”

“What sort of security?  Is Br’nai in danger?”

“I do not believe so.  However, this is a matter which requires your urgent attention.”

The emperor sighed, his peaceful, hopeful feeling ruined.  “Very well.  My Royal Guard will greet you when you arrive.”

“Thank you.  Voyager out.”

Janeway had just finished briefing Chakotay, Ayala and Mei for their away mission to the Br’nai underground.  Their goal was to gather information and document their findings.  She intended to prove to the Federation once and for all that the Br’nai were not what they appeared to be.  

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Mei?” Chakotay asked as Ayala and the girl stepped up onto Voyager’s transporter pad.

“I am ready,” she replied resolutely.

Using the weakening in the shield grid that Janeway had found, they would be able to transport directly to the underground caverns, not far from where Seven had detected the mass of life signs.  Chakotay turned to Janeway, his body inches away from hers.  “Good luck,” she said.

“We’ll report in as soon as we can.  The interference from the shield grid might make communication difficult, though.”

Kathryn started to turn to the transporter operator, but she stopped mid-movement, her eyes locked with Chakotay’s.  Unexpectedly, she felt emotion swelling in her chest, and his words filled her mind.  I don’t want to die without saying some things to you, and I don’t want you to die without hearing them.  “Chakotay, I...”  Her voice was a whisper.

He stopped her with a small shake of his head, pressing two fingers against his lips.  “I’ll see you back here in no time.”  She nodded, hoping he could read in her eyes what she wanted to say, and then he turned away, stepping up onto the transporter pad.

Janeway signaled the transporter operator.  “Energize.”  Kathryn’s eyes remained on Chakotay as he dematerialized, and she felt an uneasiness settle in the pit of her stomach.  Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the last time she would see him alive.  

The vast, hollow cavern stretched for over a kilometer in every direction, and the metal walkway under M’hel’s feet clanked as he stepped.  Before he reached the control room that was his destination, he stopped to examine his masterpiece.  The floor of the cave was lined from wall to wall with identical Br’nai soldiers.  They wore simple, grey military uniforms and each was attached to the floor by several tubes that snaked up his body, feeding into his side, chest and mouth.  These tubes had provided the soldiers with nourishment during their many months of growth.  Behind each soldier stood a long pole that ended in a metal halo which encircled his head.  This device had provided the soldiers with mental stimulation and had developed their superior brains.  But it was time to cut the umbilical cord and expel the baby from the womb.

M’hel stepped into the circular control room.  In the center of it, a long antenna stretched upwards, so high that M’hel couldn’t see the top of it.  Around the antenna, a circular console provided all the necessary controls to activate and monitor the army.   M’hel sat down and raised his hand; his fingers trembled.  He had spent years working towards this moment, and now it had arrived.  He knew that no matter what other scientific projects he undertook in his life, this day was the culmination of his greatest achievement.  With shaking hands, he picked up a metal halo and placed it on his own head.  The creatures wouldn’t be able to hear him until they were disengaged from their nourishment system.  

M’hel initiated the deactivation sequence for the first eight squadrons.  Each squadron contained two hundred soldiers, and he wanted to keep a few in reserve to activate at a later date.  Deep in the bowels of the compound, there were still other maturation chambers whose function had only just begun.  His army would be inexhaustible.  M’hel watched the readings as each tube disengaged from the soldiers, making a loud hissing sound.  The panel in front of him flashed: DEACTIVATION SEQUENCE COMPLETE.  

He moved his hand over the controls, his heart pounding, and initiated the recall sequence for the neural transmitters.  The loud bang that occurred caught him off guard and he nearly jumped out of his chair.  Forcing himself to calm down, he watched the computer confirm that the transmitters had been disabled.  On the display screen in front of him, he saw his soldiers standing independent of their technological supports, and he felt pride swell within him.  Then he turned back to the console.  Army of Br’nai, this is your master, he thought.  Can you hear me?

A booming voice replied in his mind, Yes, Master.  We hear you.

Ayala, Chakotay and Mei had been creeping through a series of dark tunnels for several minutes when they began to hear loud hissing and clanking noises.  “What is happening?” Mei asked nervously.

“I don’t know,” Chakotay replied, examining his tricorder.  “It’s hard to get accurate readings through all the interference.”

“We have almost arrived at the large cavern,” said Mei.  “I think that is where you will find what you are looking for.  That was Dr. M’hel’s most secret project.”

As they approached their destination, they heard a consistent pounding on the floor.  Chakotay and Ayala exchanged a glance as they realized what they were hearing.  “Footsteps,” Mike whispered.  They looked up to realize that Mei was sliding along the wall, headed for a small patch of light.  When she reached it, she beckoned for the two men to join her.  They followed her to what turned out to be an opening in the rock wall.  They peered through the opening into an enormous cavern and saw the source of the clacking footsteps.  Mei stared, frozen, her eyes widening as she watched the sight before them.  Ayala looked at Chakotay, uncertainty in his eyes, while Chakotay’s gaze remained riveted on the thousands of identical soldiers marched past them, their boots clicking in unison, their faces unwavering, row after row after row.

It was Mei who finally whispered, “Dr. M’hel has made an army.  He will destroy my people.  He will destroy everything.”

Chapter Text

20

Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes

“In the long run mistaken good inevitably gives rise to unmistakable evil.”
    -Aristotle, The Politics, IV, xii

Axum watched the screen in front of him anxiously.  He and his comrades had been tracking the Collective’s movements for two days, and the Borg were definitely up to something.  They had been amassing several ships in one location, and it appeared as though they were getting ready to move towards Earth.  As he watched, he ran a hand through his new hair, amazed at how fast it was growing.  It had been years since he had been able to run his hand through his hair, except in the dreamworld of Unimatrix Zero, and the sensation filled him with wonder.  He brushed his fingers over his face, the side that was skin now, and shivered as little goosebumps formed along his cheek.  The Doctor was operating on Laura now and had promised to help any of Axum’s group that wanted their implants removed.  He heard a sound behind him - footsteps, not the shuffling of Borg feet, and turned to see Annika in front of him.

“Has the Collective’s activity changed?” she asked.

“Not in the last hour.  Here, come join me.”  He pulled her into his lap, her flesh soft against his.  He flexed the fingers in his new hand, entwining them with hers.

“This is hardly proper conduct while on duty,” she admonished him.

“I guess not,” Axum replied with a grin, “but I am the captain.  What I say, goes, doesn’t it?”

Seven frowned.  “On Voyager, Captain Janeway believed that protocol was essential in running the ship - particularly protocol that governed... intimate relations.”

“Well, this isn’t Voyager, is it?”  Axum’s comment was lighthearted.  Nothing could spoil his humor today.

Suddenly, movement on the screen caught their attention.  “The Collective is entering a transwarp conduit,” said Seven, standing up and moving to another console.  

“I’m calculating their trajectory,” Axum said, but then a confused expression came over his face.  “They’re not heading towards Earth.”

“No.  Check the long range sensors.”

After a moment, Axum saw what Seven was referring to.  “A massive movement of ships and life signs near Br’nai.”

“Yes.  Something there has interested the Collective enough to change their course.  We should intercept them.”

Axum grimaced.  “We don’t know what to expect from the Borg, Seven.  It’s likely that they’ve improved their weapon by now.  Our torpedoes might not be effective against it anymore.”

“We will adapt.”

“We won’t have much choice.  Helm, set a course for Br’nai and engage at transwarp.”  

Harry slammed his palm against the console in frustration.  Their efforts to find a way to stop V’tan’s mind control continued to come up short.  “Damn it!  None of this works.”

“Relax, Harry,” said Geordi, laying a supportive hand on the younger man’s shoulder.  “We’ll figure it out.  We just need to keep looking.”

“Okay,” Kim replied, taking a deep breath.  “Think, Harry.  Have you ever had to deal with a situation like this before?”  

Kim was talking to himself but suddenly Geordi went very still.  “You may not have,” he said, “but I have.”  Harry looked over at him, eyes wide, as Geordi called up a file on the monitor in front of him.  “Stardate 45208.2.  The Ktarians tried to take over the Enterprise by controlling us through a game they had given Commander Riker.  It was a form of mind control.”

“How did you break it?”

“Data initiated an optical burst pattern which disrupted the mind controlling effects of the game.  I wonder if we could use something similar here.”

“I’m not sure I know enough about brain waves to determine what pattern would work.”

“Me neither.  But I know someone who does.”  Geordi tapped the comm panel in front of him.  “Dr. Crusher, please report to engineering.”

“On my way.”  A few minutes later, Beverly Crusher walked in the door.  “Have you found something?”

“We think so,” Harry replied, and he and Geordi shared their findings with the doctor.

“I think you’re onto something here,” she said, working out the puzzle in her mind, “but it will be a little more involved than a simple optical burst pattern.  We’re dealing with one being controlling another’s mind, not just a piece of technology whose function has to be disrupted.”

“What are you thinking?” Geordi asked.

“Transcranial alternating current stimulation.  It uses electrodes to modulate rhythmic brain activity, combined with flickering lights that modify the alpha and beta brain waves.  I think I could devise a way to use it to disrupt the ambassador’s telepathic activity.”

“How would we administer the treatment?” asked Harry.

“That would be the trick, Mr. Kim.  Someone would need to get very close to the ambassador and place a device on the back of his neck, then administer the light pulse.”

Geordi shook his head slowly.  “Something tells me that Ambassador V’tan won’t be a very willing patient.”

Harry’s face lit up as he thought of a plan.  “I can do it, sir.”  

The Great Hall stretched almost a kilometer, and Tuvok studied the golden decor, trying to understand as much as he could about the Br’nai.  They seemed to have great reverence for position and authority, and their society had many formal customs.  Tuvok, Dr. Davidson, and Ensign Ashmore waited quietly under R’fet’s watchful eye as two other members of the Royal Guard stood nearby.

The emperor entered the chamber, and the guards pressed their palms together and bowed.  “My Emperor,” they said in unison.  The away team followed their example and bowed as well.

Ch’a’fen approached Tuvok.  “Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, why have you sought this audience with me?”  

“Your Majesty, I am here investigating a large sum of gold pressed latinum that was transferred from a bank here to the account of a Bajoran man named Piva Ondarra.”

“My citizens are free to distribute their wealth however they desire.”

“We have linked Piva to the recent terrorist bombings in Paris and have reason to suspect that he was paid to frame members of the Maquis in those bombings.”

Ch’a’fen frowned and motioned for Tuvok to follow him down the hall, away from the others.  “Are you implying that one of my people had something to do with those bombings?”

“There does appear to be a connection, but I will not make any suppositions until I complete my investigation.”

“Our financial records are not available to outsiders.”

“The security of the Federation may be at stake.  If there is a terrorist on your world, he may not stop at Paris.”

Ch’a’fen pursed his lips and avoided the Vulcan’s gaze.  “I need to contact Ambassador V’tan.”  He started to move away, but Tuvok’s voice stopped him.

“Ambassador V’tan has been manipulating you, Emperor.”

Ch’a’fen stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly, his black eyes flashing.  “What did you say?”

“Due to a birth defect that affects his frontal lobe, Ambassador V’tan has developed telepathic abilities that allow him to manipulate others’ thoughts and actions.”

The emperor’s face reddened as Tuvok spoke, and when he found his voice again, he was shaking with anger.  “How dare you?  V’tan and I have been friends since childhood.  He would never do anything to harm me or this world.”

“I can show you the evidence.”

“It’s a lie!  A vicious lie!”

“I have no reason to lie to you.”  Tuvok remained perfectly calm.

“V’tan is my closest friend.”  The emperor seemed close to tears.  “He would never manipulate me.  I’ve acted of my own free will.  Together, he and I will usher in a new era for Br’nai.”

“Emperor, allow me to help you look at the matter logically.”  Ch’a’fen fixed Tuvok with an icy gaze but seemed willing to listen.  “Consider all the evidence.  Money was transferred from an account here to Piva Ondarra, who had contact with the Maquis accused of the bombing only days before it occurred.  Ondarra admitted to his cousin that he was sent by his employer to frame the Maquis.  But that is not all.  Were you aware of Admiral Janeway’s imprisonment?”

“No.”

“That is another thing Ambassador V’tan kept from you.”

“V’tan didn’t know about it until after the fact.  It was all M’hel, him and his crazy experiments.”

Tuvok continued, ignoring the emperor’s outburst.  “And when the Borg engaged the Federation near here, you were told that your forces were unable to join in the fight because of a malfunction in your launch pad.  Correct?”

“Yes.”

Tuvok produced a PADD he’d been holding behind his back and handed it to the emperor.  “As you can see, you were misinformed.  There was no malfunction.”

“V’tan told me about this filth,” Ch’a’fen spat, handing the PADD back to Tuvok.  “This is fake.”

“I assure you, Emperor, it is quite real.”  At that moment, the ground began to shake with a low rumble.  

Tuvok glanced at the emperor, who had suddenly become very pale.  “No,” he whispered.

“Sir, we should return to the ship,” Davidson urged.

“Your Highness, do you know what is causing this disturbance?” Tuvok asked.

Before Ch’a’fen had a chance to reply, the rumbling increased to a deafening roar, and through the windows of the Great Hall, they saw fighter after fighter ascend into the sky.

“Where did those ships originate?” Tuvok asked.

“I didn’t know,” Ch’a’fen said softly, deflated.  “I honestly didn’t know.”  The emperor looked up at Tuvok, eyes wide.  “Is it possible you could be right?”  The rumbling had stopped; all the fighters had ascended into the sky.  “M’hel has been working for years to develop a genetically enhanced army.  I didn’t know he had succeeded.  V’tan said M’hel had developed a new weapon...”  He paused, trying to puzzle something out.  “M’hel could have launched them on his own.  He’s always been so arrogant...  No, no.  He wouldn’t have done it without V’tan’s permission.”  Ch’a’fen’s eyes widened as the full impact of understanding hit him.  “Why wouldn’t he tell me?  Why wouldn’t V’tan tell me?  I’m his best friend; we’re like brothers.”  He looked up at Tuvok, eyes pleading.  “It doesn’t make sense.  I can’t understand.”  He sank to his knees, clutching his head as if in terrible pain.  “No.  Don’t... understand.  Can’t be...”

R’fet rushed to the emperor’s side.  “Your Majesty!”  He looked at Tuvok accusingly.  “What have you done to him?”

“I can assure you, I have done nothing to harm him.”

Dr. Davidson approached.  “Let me scan him.  Maybe I can help.”

“He was fine until you arrived,” R’fet accused.  “What did you do to him?”

“We didn’t do anything to him,” Davidson reiterated.  “Please, let me try to help.”

The emperor clutched his head, curled in a fetal position on the floor, murmuring, “No.  It can’t be true.  It’s not possible.”

R’fet looked from the fallen emperor to Tuvok to the doctor, his mind racing.  If he allowed the strangers to help when they really were the ones causing the emperor’s condition, he would be responsible.  On the other hand, if they could help, and he denied them the chance, he would be responsible for that, too.  Making his choice, the guard backed away from the crumpled man on the floor and gestured to the doctor.  “Go ahead.”

Quickly, Davidson knelt beside the mumbling emperor, scanning his body with a medical tricorder.  “Somehow, V’tan’s manipulations have rewritten his neural pathways.  He may not be able to consider a possibility that goes against what V’tan would want him to think.”    

“Can you help him?” R’fet asked.

“Maybe if we get him back to Voyager.  But the procedure could take hours, and there would be no guarantee of success.”

Tuvok knelt next to the emperor.  “You must recall the army.”

“No,” he said haltingly.  “I... can’t.”

“Do you wish for them to destroy Voyager and risk starting a war with the Federation?”

“Can’t... answer...”

“I’m reading elevated norepinephrine levels and decreased synaptic activity.”  The doctor looked at Tuvok with concern.  “We have to get him back to Voyager.”

“You’re not taking him anywhere!” cautioned R’fet, one hand reaching for his weapon.

Tuvok surveyed the situation, weighing many factors at once, and swiftly reached a decision.  He held up his hand, calming the guard.  “I will attempt a mind meld with the emperor.”

“Commander,” Davidson cautioned, “we have no idea what the danger would be to you or to him.”

“I am aware of that, Doctor, but we have no time.  Perhaps I can help the emperor find his way back to himself.”

“Is this safe?” R’fet asked nervously.

The Vulcan fixed the guard with a steady gaze.  “I may be able to help your emperor.  If no one does anything, he will die.”  R’fet nodded his assent.

“I strongly object to this procedure,” said Davidson, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Your objection is noted, Doctor.”  Tuvok pressed his fingers to the side of the emperor’s contorted face.  “My mind to your mind.  My thoughts to your thoughts...”

Hundreds of identical soldiers marched out of the cavern, and Ayala, Chakotay and Mei followed silently, trying to remain out of sight.  Chakotay got a glimpse of their vacant, empty eyes and wondered whether they were even capable of noticing the three intruders.  The soldiers continued to march until they reached a docking bay filled with small fighters.  There were at least fifty ships, each manned with three of the clones.  The remaining soldiers stood at attention, as if awaiting orders.  The ground began to shake as the fighters took off.  

Mei had shrunk back into the nearest tunnel, frightened by the loud rumbling.  Chakotay noticed this and motioned to Ayala to follow him.  The three of them retreated into the caverns, finding a place far enough away from the docking bay that they no longer had to yell over the din.  Mei was shaking.  “What is happening, Cha-ko-tay?”

“I don’t know, Mei.  But if Dr. M’hel created this army, I think it’s a safe bet that he’s the one commanding them now.”  He tapped his comm badge.  “Chakotay to Voyager.”  Static.  He tried again with the same result.  “Damn!  The shields around the compound must be interfering with our communicators.  Mike, I need you to go back to the transport site and warn Voyager.”

“Okay, boss.  What about you?”    

“I’m going to find out who or what is controlling this army.”

“I can help you,” offered Mei, who had regained her composure.  “I know some of the tunnels that lead to Dr. M’hel’s secret lab.”

“Are you sure, Mei?” 

She nodded resolutely.

Ayala put a firm hand on Chakotay’s shoulder.  “Good luck,” he said.  The two men exchanged a long glance, and then Mike turned and started off for the transport site at a swift pace.    

When Ayala had disappeared into the cavern, Chakotay turned to Mei.  “All right.  Let’s find Dr. M’hel.”

For a moment, Mei’s face filled with fear at the prospect of facing the evil doctor again, but then she strengthened her resolve.  “Yes.  We will find him and we will stop him.”

Voyager’s bridge was quiet, but the air was thick with anticipation.  Janeway absently stroked the armrests of the command chair.  She crossed and uncrossed her legs, turning to her console to examine it for the fifth time in as many minutes.  There had been no report yet from either Chakotay or Tuvok.

Suddenly, Andrews spoke with alarm, “I’m picking up several small craft on short range sensors.”

“What sort of craft, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never seen this configuration before.  They appear to be taking off from the planet.”

“Hail them,” Janeway ordered.

B’Elanna had taken Tuvok’s position at tactical in his absence.  “Channel open,” she said.

“Br’nai vessels, this is...  This is the starship Voyager.  Please state your intention.”

“No response,” said Torres.  Suddenly, a blast rocked Voyager’s bridge.  “They’re firing on us with some sort of energy weapon!”

“I guess that’s their response.  Evasive maneuvers, Tom!” Janeway ordered as another blast hit Voyager.  “Engage ablative hull armor.”

“Hull armor engaged,” Andrews reported.

Suddenly, a garbled sound came over the comm.  “B’Elanna, can you clear that up?” Janeway asked.

“I’m on it.”

A moment later, they heard distinctly, “Ayala to Voyager.”  

“Mike, report!”  

“There’s a fleet of Br’nai ships headed your way.  There are hundreds of soldiers down here, maybe even thousands.  We think M’hel has created some sort of army of clones.  Chakotay went to look for the command center.  He...”  Ayala’s voice suddenly cut off, and they heard a shuffle, then weapons fire.

“Mike!” Janeway shouted.  “Mike!”  But the comm line was dead.

“We’ve got four more of those Br’nai ships headed our way,” said B’Elanna.

Janeway grimaced, putting Ayala out of her mind for the moment.  There was nothing she could do for him right now.  “Tom, prepare to execute an L-4 maneuver.  Pull up on the z-axis on my mark.”  She waited until the enemy ships were a little closer.  “Mark!”  Voyager pulled up swiftly, made a full circle, and dropped back into place behind the Br’nai ships.  “Fire at will!”

“One of the Br’nai ships has been destroyed,” Torres reported.  “We’ve disabled shields and weapons on two others.”

The small triumph was short-lived, however, as Andrews said, “We have another seven Br’nai fighters coming up on our tail.”

“Evasive pattern beta two,” Janeway commanded as one of the Br’nai ships hit Voyager with a disruptor beam.  

“We’re being hailed,” said Andrews.  “It’s not a Starfleet signature.”

“On screen.”

Axum appeared on the screen, Seven standing behind him.  “Admiral Janeway!” he exclaimed.  

Surprise registered on Janeway’s face when she saw how human he looked.  “Axum!”

“We wanted to warn you, there are several Borg vessels heading your way.  We’ll be right behind them.”

Janeway’s face tightened.  “Thank you.  We have our hands full here, we could use your assistance.”

“We’ll be there.  Axum out.”

Several Br’nai vessels were circling Voyager.  One fired, then another.  “Hull armor is holding,” said Andrews.

“Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Paris.”  Despite their dire circumstances, Janeway felt the thrill of command fill her, and she realized how much she had missed it.

“We’re picking up transwarp signatures,” said B’Elanna.  “Four Borg vessels emerging, twenty thousand kilometers to starboard.”

“Evasive pattern gamma.”

But as three cubes and a Borg sphere emerged from the conduit, they didn’t head straight for Voyager as Janeway expected.  “The Borg are going after the Br’nai ships,” B’Elanna realized aloud.

“Let’s use that to our advantage,” Janeway said.  “Mr. Paris, bring us closer to the Borg cubes.”

“Closer?”

“Heading one two seven mark five.  Bring us right on top of that first cube.”  Janeway watched on the view screen as the gigantic cube loomed closer and closer, and Paris began to understand her plan.  He maneuvered the ship so it was hidden from the Br’nai behind the Borg cube.  Then, just as a Br’nai ship rounded the cube, attempting to avoid the Borg cutting beam, Janeway ordered, “Fire photon torpedoes.”

The Br’nai vessel, caught off guard, was hit badly.  “Their shields are down to forty three percent,” said Torres.

“We are picking up more transwarp signatures,” Andrews said.  A moment later, three more Borg vessels emerged from the conduit.

Another blast rocked Voyager.  “They’re targeting our armor,” said B’Elanna.  “It’s down to seventy two percent.”

“Open a channel to Axum’s ships,” ordered Janeway.  

“Channel open.”

Seven of Nine’s face appeared on the view screen.  “Seven, can you help us against those Br’nai fighters?” Janeway asked.

“We will do our best.  Seven of Nine out.”

The Br’nai vessels appeared to be avoiding the Collective relatively easily.  Their small ships were fast and maneuverable.  “Their coordination is amazing,” Paris said under his breath as he watched the ships fly in perfect formation.  “I’ve never seen anything like it.  It’s like all the ships are being flown by one person.”

Janeway’s expression darkened.  Ayala had spoken of a control center for M’hel’s army.  “I think they might be.”  Hurry, Chakotay, she thought.  If the Br’nai could so easily avoid the Borg, it wouldn’t be long before they had demolished Voyager’s ablative hull armor.  In tandem with her thoughts, Voyager was hit again.

“Armor down to fifty eight percent,” B’Elanna said.  The Borg had fired a nanoprobe torpedo at one of the Br’nai vessels, but the Br’nai ship’s shields seemed to be holding.  “The nanoprobes can’t breach the Br’nai hull!”

“Why are the Borg ignoring us?” asked Paris.

“They’re trying to assimilate the Br’nai,” Janeway realized.  

Voyager took another blow.  “There’s too many of those damn Br’nai ships!” Paris exclaimed.  “I can’t outrun them all.”

“Hail Axum.”

“Chanel open,” said B’Elanna.  Axum appeared on the view screen.

“Axum, do you think you can disable that Borg sphere?”

“I’m hoping to disable all the Borg vessels.”

“We need someplace to hide from the Br’nai - just for long enough to buy my crew members on the surface some time.  We’ve hidden Voyager in a sphere before.”

Axum glanced over his shoulder at Seven.  She nodded.  “We’ll do our best.  Axum out.”

“B’Elanna, arm a transphasic torpedo and target the sphere’s weapons systems.  It won’t be as effective as the first time, but it should still pack a punch.”

“Torpedo locked and armed.”

“Fire.”  The torpedo lanced through space and impacted the sphere.

“Minimal damage to the sphere’s weapons system,” Andrews reported.  “Their shields are holding.”  Janeway watched as Axum’s cube pursued the sphere, firing another kind of torpedo.  “The sphere’s shields are down to sixty percent,” said Andrews.

Voyager was hit by another blast from the Br’nai.  “Evasive pattern beta four!” Janeway barked.

“The armor is holding,” said Torres, “for now.”

“The Borg sphere has been disabled,” Andrews reported.

“Good.  Tom, set a course for that sphere.  You know what to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Paris deftly piloted Voyager into the sphere, thinking back on the last time he had performed the maneuver, during his daughter’s birth.  He glanced back to the tactical station where B’Elanna stood and gave her a reassuring glance, hoping that they would gain a moment of relief from the constant barrage of weapons fire.

For a minute, Kathryn let her thoughts drift to the men on the planet below them.  The situation was grim; they wouldn’t be able to stave off the Br’nai forever.  Ayala might already be dead.  Chakotay and Tuvok had to be successful.  Chakotay.  Although she cared deeply about Tuvok and Ayala, her thoughts centered around her former first officer.  Have I been wrong all along? she wondered.  Are we going to die today leaving so much unsaid?  

Images flashed through her mind - their chance meeting on Deep Space Nine, their dinner in Paris, their imprisonment on Br’nai - their one, passionate kiss amidst the ghosts of Montfermeil.  Earlier images - an angry Maquis, materializing right here, on her bridge for the first time - “You won’t need those here,” she had said, pointing to his weapon.  A bathtub built just for her on a distant planet, a moonlight sail on Lake George, a dinner in her quarters before they made the slipstream attempt, a night when they had drunk far too much Antarian cider and Chakotay had nearly broken the Temporal Prime Directive - the memories swirled before her eyes, flooding her consciousness.  “Two years ago I didn’t even know your name...”  “Is that really an ancient legend?”  “You’re not alone, Kathryn.”  “I don’t want to die without saying some things to you, and I don’t want you to die without hearing them.”

The last memory rang in her ears as she was jolted out of her thoughts by B’Elanna’s urgent tone.  “Admiral?  The Br’nai have found us.  They’re concentrating all their fire power on this sphere.  It’s not going to be long before they blow it to pieces.”

“We need to hold them off a little longer, Lieutenant.  We just need to give Tuvok and Chakotay a little more time.”  Come on, Chakotay.  Hurry the hell up!

The maze of underground tunnels seemed unending as Chakotay followed Mei through passageway after passageway.  She led him deeper and deeper into the bowels of the planet, and closer and closer to the center of M’hel’s operation.  They had nearly reached their destination; Chakotay could almost taste it.  The Br’nai underground had an unwelcome familiarity about it; it reminded him of Cardassian bases he had raided as a Maquis.

Suddenly, Mei skidded to a halt, and he nearly bumped into her.  Without speaking, she gestured to an opening in the tunnel in front of them.  Two armed guards stood on the other side of it.  Without making a sound, Chakotay pulled out his phaser and shot both of them before they knew what was happening.  Then he sneaked in the entrance, motioning to Mei to stay behind him.  The sight that greeted him was unlike anything he had ever seen.  It was the command center, all right.  Display panels lined the walls of the circular room which stretched about four meters in diameter and seemed to spiral upwards forever.  Several large control panels filled the sides of the center console, and as he rounded it, Chakotay saw Dr. M’hel seated at one of the panels.  He wore a metallic halo on his head and the expression on his face was one of deep concentration.  Chakotay couldn’t understand all the panels, but the one in front of the doctor clearly depicted the movements of the Br’nai army.

Chakotay walked over to M’hel and waved his hand in front of the doctor’s face, but the doctor didn’t seem aware of him.  “Dr. M’hel?  Dr.  M’hel!”  One hand on his phaser, Chakotay stood at the ready, but still M’hel did not respond to him.  He fiddled with the controls for a moment, trying to deactivate the interface the doctor was using to control the army, but the language was too foreign to him.  “Mei,” he called, “can you help me deactivate this interface?”

The girl, still standing in the doorway, hung her head.  “I know nothing of this, Cha-ko-tay.”

“Can you tell me what these characters say?”

She shook her head, seeming to become even smaller.  “I never learned to read.  I am sorry.”

“Please, Mei, don’t be sorry.  You’ve helped us a great deal.  Stand back.  I’m going to break the doctor’s connection with the army.  I don’t know how he’ll react.”  When Mei had stepped back into the corridor, Chakotay took a deep breath and ripped the halo from the doctor’s head.

For a moment, M’hel seemed unaware of his surroundings.  Then he took a gasping breath, as if starved for air, and looked around wildly until his eyes landed on Chakotay.  “What have you done?” he bellowed in a rage.

“I’ve broken your control of the army.  I’m here to protect Voyager.”

M’hel sneered.  “The army will continue to follow my last orders unless they receive new ones.  They will destroy Voyager.”

Chakotay pointed his phaser at the doctor.  “Order them to stand down or I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind,” M’hel scoffed, and before Chakotay could move, the scrawny doctor had kicked the phaser out of Chakotay’s hand, sending it clattering onto the floor.  At Chakotay’s stunned expression, M’hel laughed.  “You thought I was a puny, weak, little thing, didn’t you?  Just like all those boys who liked to bully me in school.  Well, I have news for you.  I’ve used my genetic research to enhance my own strength.”  Slowly, M’hel was advancing, and in spite of himself, Chakotay felt himself backing up.  “You’ll never leave this place, and you’ll certainly never save your precious Voyager or your precious Kathryn.”  M’hel threw his head back in a triumphant laugh, and at that moment, Chakotay struck, lunging towards the doctor with a powerful right hook.

His fist connected with M’hel’s face and the Br’nai was momentarily confused.  Chakotay launched another punch, but this time, M’hel blocked it and returned the favor, kneeing Chakotay firmly in the stomach.  The blow nearly took Chakotay’s air for a moment, but a second later, he was standing again, sending a jab and a cross into M’hel’s midsection.  His eyes scanned the floor, trying to locate his phaser.  The doctor doubled over, but as Chakotay bent to finish him off, M’hel pulled them both to the ground.  He rolled Chakotay underneath him, attempting to bang his skull into the hard metal floor.  Before he could succeed, Chakotay slammed his feet down on the ground and raised his hips, sending the doctor flying over his head.  

He pulled himself to his feet, breathing heavily, as a glint of metal caught his eye - his phaser.  He lunged for the weapon, but M’hel saw it at the same time and anticipated his move.  As Chakotay’s fingers brushed the phaser, the doctor tackled him, knocking the weapon out of both of their reaches once again.  As he grappled with M’hel on the floor of the chamber, Chakotay realized that winning this fight was going to be a lot harder than he had thought.

The gentle hum of the medical tricorder continued as R’fet looked at his fallen leader with concern.  “They’re both in stable condition,” Davidson reported as she looked down at Tuvok, who knelt next to Ch’a’fen, still linked to the emperor.

“How long will this take?” R’fet asked impatiently.

“There’s no way to know.”

Tuvok walked through darkness.  The chamber was pitch black, and he fumbled, looking for a path.  “Hello?” he called.  “Is anyone here?”  His own voice echoed back to him in the gloom.  Suddenly, a lighted candle appeared in his hand, illuminating his way.  He found himself in a long, dim hallway with no doors or windows, and he pressed ahead.

At the end of the corridor, he arrived at a simple wooden door with a copper handle.  He tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn’t move, and the knob had no keyhole.  Tuvok hoisted his weight up against the door, attempting to break it down, but it seemed immovable.  He knocked loudly and then paused, awaiting a response, but no one answered.

He cocked his head to one side as his superior Vulcan hearing picked up a sound on the other side of the door.  Someone was crying, and it sounded like the emperor.  “Go away,” the voice said.  “Leave me alone.”

“Emperor Ch’a’fen, you must allow me to enter.”

“No!” the emperor screamed.  “Go away!”

“I will not go away.  Open the door.”

“Never!  I will never let you in!”

Dr. Davidson’s face creased with concern as she looked at the tricorder again.  “What is it, Doctor?” asked Ashmore.

“Tuvok’s neuro-chemical synapses are beginning to show signs of destabilization.”

“And the emperor?” R’fet asked with concern.

“He appears to be fine, for the moment.”

“For the moment?”  R’fet’s nervousness increased.  “Stop this at once, Doctor.  It’s not safe.”

After another moment, Davidson closed her tricorder and looked up at the guard.  “I can’t.   Tuvok has to break the meld himself.  There’s nothing more I can do.”

“The sphere’s shields are failing!” B’Elanna cried.

“Tom, get us out of here, now!”  Amidst flying sparks and explosions, Voyager burst free of the sphere.

No sooner had they escaped the detonation of the Borg vessel than several Br’nai ships descended upon them.  “Look out!” warned Torres.  “We’ve got six of those Br’nai fighters on our tail.”

“Target their engines with photon torpedoes,” said Janeway.  “Fire at will.”

B’Elanna armed the torpedoes and fired.  “We managed to disable one of the fighters.  The other five are still right on top of us.”

As good as Tom’s piloting skills were, there was simply no way for him to evade all the Br’nai ships at once, even with some of them distracted by the Borg.  Voyager was hit with a succession of blasts from the small fighters.  “Ablative hull armor is down!” said Andrews.  “Shields are holding.”

“Damn it, Chakotay,” Janeway muttered.  “What’s taking so long?”

At that moment, B’Elanna gulped as she stared at that tactical display in front of her.  “Bad news,” she said.  “Our little stunt seems to have aroused the Borg’s interest.  They’re targeting us with one of their nanoprobe torpedoes.”

“See if you can put one of the Br’nai ships between us and them, Tom.”

“But then we’ll be open to Br’nai fire.”

“Better that than assimilation.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  As the Borg cube launched the torpedo, Tom sidled Voyager up alongside two of the Br’nai ships.  The ploy worked, and the Br’nai vessel intercepted the torpedo.  But at such close range, the Br’nai weapons gained effectiveness, and a huge explosion rocked the bridge, sending Janeway careening out of her chair.  Sparks flew from one of the consoles behind her, but no one seemed to be hurt.  

“Environmental controls are down,” Andrews reported as he fought his way back to his station.  “Life support is down to sixty eight percent.  We’ve got a hull breach on deck fifteen.”

“Shield status, B’Elanna?”

“Down to seventy percent.  But they’re holding for now.  We can’t pull that stunt again, though.  The Br’nai weapons are too powerful at close range.”

“The Borg have locked another nanoprobe torpedo on us,” said Andrews.

Kathryn looked at Tom, who turned around to meet her eyes.  Suddenly, she realized that they were not going to come out of this alive.  The odds had been against her many times, and each time, she had believed that there would always be an alternative solution.  But this time she had run out of options.  She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to go down fighting, though.  “Lock photon torpedoes on that Borg cube,” she ordered.

But before she could finish the order, the bridge crew saw something whiz by the view screen, and a moment later, the cube that had targeted them exploded.  “What the...” Tom began in astonishment.

Torres was grinning from ear to ear.  “Nice work, Seven,” she said quietly.  “Thanks.”  The blast had come from Axum’s cube.

For a second, Janeway allowed herself to relax.  For one second.  Then she heard Andrews’ worried voice.  “Admiral, the other two Borg vessels are headed straight for us.  And we’ve got four Br’nai fighters on our tail.” 

Chapter Text

21

Created Equal

“Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death.”
    -Song of Solomon 8:6

For two days, the Federation Council had been debating Councilwoman Baines’ Exploration Equality Bill which limited the speed and number of Starfleet ships in a given area and forced the Federation to share its research with other cultures.  At first, the Council had been equally divided, and it had seemed that they would never end the gridlock.  But slowly, one by one, council members decided to support the bill.  Those who did support it smiled secretively at each other in the hallways, as if they shared some insight that was denied their opponents.  They had been led to believe that they were ushering in a new era for the Federation - one in which equality for all and of all would reign supreme.

“The chair recognizes Councilman Koresh-Inya.”

The Grazerite stood.  That morning, he’d had a very informative meeting with Ambassador V’tan of Br’nai.  The ambassador had eased his skepticism about the bill and had promised him that Councilwoman Baines would accept the amendment he wanted to propose.  “I do believe that there should be an exception, in the case of a threat to Federation safety.  In that case, the number of Starfleet ships in a given region should not be limited.”

“So you expect Starfleet to protect you when you’re in danger, but to limit their scientific pursuits?” spat G’tok.  “There is no honor in this.”

“Starfleet has always protected the Federation,” Thelos pointed out, “although not very effectively of late.”

“Not very effectively?  Starfleet, with the help of the Klingon Empire, recently won a battle with the Borg.”

“Losing hundreds of lives in the process,” countered Thelos.

“And saving billions of others from assimilation.”

“We had a plan in place.  Janeway disobeyed orders to glorify herself.  If you think that...”

“That is ludicrous!” G’tok snapped back, interrupting the Andorian.  “This is an insult to...”

Sturik tapped his gavel, ending the argument.  “There will be order in the chamber, gentlemen.  Councilman Koresh-Inya has the floor.”

The Grazerite finished, “I suggest amending the resolution to include the exception I mentioned.”

“Does Councilwoman Baines agree to the amendment?” Sturik asked.

“I do.”

Sturik banged the gavel once.  “The resolution is so amended.”  The debate had gone on like this for hours, individual council members adding provisions they felt would benefit their own worlds.  “The chair recognizes Councilwoman Baines.”

“I’d like to call for a vote.”

“Second,” called Thelos, raising his hand.

“A vote has been called for and seconded.  In accordance with Council procedures, we will hear one speaker for the resolution and one against before the vote.  Councilwoman Baines, I assume you will speak for your own resolution.”  She nodded.  “Who would like to speak against?”  A few hands were raised, but the first to go up was Councilman G’tok’s.  “Very well.  Councilman G’tok, you have two minutes.”

G’tok stood proudly, looking around the room at his fellow council members.  “This Federation is the greatest achievement of an alliance of races in recorded history.  And you would seek to destroy it!”  Murmurs began all around the chamber, and Sturik tapped his gavel, calling for order.  “You have already taken away many of the rights that Federation worlds have enjoyed for centuries.  Now, you seek to cripple Starfleet as well.  You speak of furthering equality among the races, but this resolution will do nothing of the kind.

“Limiting the number of Starfleet ships in a given area and forcing them to decrease their speeds, will not grant equality to anyone.  It will only impede Starfleet’s productivity and prevent advances in technology and space exploration.  Councilwoman Baines says she seeks to bring greater safety to the Federation, but there is no safety in forcing Starfleet to share its research with all other races.  Individual captains will no longer have the power to make judgments about the situations they confront.  This resolution would jeopardize our security, not enhance it.

“The supporters of this resolution speak of Starfleet as if it belongs only to Earth, but it doesn’t.  Starfleet belongs to all of us; members of any of our races may join it.  It protects all of us, without discrimination.  This resolution will destroy the unity that we have formed by creating distinctions where there are none.  Starfleet is not our enemy, but part of who we are.  We need them and they need us.  To restrict them as this bill proposes would be to restrict ourselves.  Our own freedom is at stake.

“Councilwoman Baines speaks of equality, but what equality can there be if Starfleet must limit the speed of its ships while other races can pursue new propulsion technology?  How is it equal, forcing Starfleet to share its data with other races, but not asking them to do the same?    All men and all races are not equal in all things.  Some have greater scientific prowess; others are great warriors.  Some value money, some honor, some justice, some happiness.  Whatever their values, whatever their talents, for hundreds of years, members of the Federation have enjoyed equality under the law.  If we pass this resolution, that equality will be destroyed and the Federation will crumble.  If you value your freedom and your honor, vote against this resolution.”

The Klingon councilman sat down and several council members applauded loudly.  Others murmured amongst themselves.  G’tok leaned back, closing his eyes.  He had done all he could.

“Councilwoman Baines, you have two minutes,” said Sturik.

Lilith Baines stood and walked to the center of the chamber.  Seats rose on all sides around her in a circular formation.  The council members sat close to the floor, and above them was an area reserved for guests and observers.  Baines cast her eye to one of the balconies and gave a barely perceptible nod to a figure standing there, clad in a long, black cloak.  The figure smiled from beneath his hood.  The towering chamber dwarfed Baines, and the council members leaned forward, anxious to hear her.

“Councilman G’tok speaks a great deal of equality and rights,” she began, “but he is in a fine position to speak of these things.  His world is prosperous and safe.  Not everyone is so lucky.”

“You insult my honor!” G’tok shouted, leaping up from his chair.

Sturik banged his gavel.  “If the councilman cannot refrain from these outbursts, he will be removed from the chamber.”  G’tok sat back down, clamping his jaw shut in anger.

Baines continued, nonplussed, “Not every world in the Federation is as well off as the Klingon Empire, or as Earth.  It is time for us to recognize the suffering both within and outside of our borders.  There are still worlds stricken by poverty.  How will they ever prosper if we don’t give them the chance?  How will they ever develop if, in our greed, we allow Starfleet to continue to dominate science and exploration?

“Councilman G’tok accuses me of wanting to take away freedom from Federation citizens, but this resolution works towards equality for every Federation citizen - freedom to explore space, freedom to do scientific research, freedom to develop their propulsion technology.  The question we must ask is not whether the Federation Council should have the power to limit Starfleet’s actions, but whether what we are doing is working.  Are we making the quadrant a better place?  That is the aim of this resolution.

“G’tok speaks of security risks, but what security risks is he talking about?  Councilman Koresh-Inya’s amendment assures that Starfleet will continue to protect Federation member worlds.  Some have said that this resolution will hamper development of new weapons technology.  Well, first of all, I doubt that is true.  The open policy on all data will allow us to work alongside other races to develop all kinds of technology.  And second of all, it is not our weapons which secure us, but our alliances with people like the Br’nai.  Power and greatness are always fleeting; it is through our friendship with great leaders like Ambassador V’tan that we will continue to grow and develop.  This resolution will not destroy our Federation.  Instead, we will be strengthened by the growth of the least among us.

“It is time to forget about politics and stop thinking only of ourselves.  We did not build this Federation alone; thousands of people of hundreds of races worked together as a team.  We must join together now in common purpose and maintain our common resolve.  We must pass this resolution to ensure equality for everyone.”

Thunderous applause erupted, and G’tok knew he had lost.  As he watched the voting proceed, his heart sank and rare tears sprang to his eyes.  He had done everything he could, but it had not been enough.  The Federation for which he had placed his life on the line in battle and to which he had given four years of his life as a councilman was gone.

High above G’tok, in the observation area, another man stood, watching the voting.  Ambassador V’tan felt a surge of joy rip through him, and the normally stoic ambassador felt the urge to cheer.  He stood, watching, until the vote was complete and the resolution had passed.  Then he sent a short message to Councilwoman Baines: “Well done.  Perhaps another glass of tirin is in order?”

Feeling a rare jubilation, V’tan walked the short distance back to his apartment.  It was nearly midnight by the time he arrived home, and he poured himself a quick drink and went to bed, blissfully exhausted.  Baines’ resolution had passed, and he was sure that by now M’hel’s army had destroyed Voyager.  He thought about contacting the doctor now, but decided he was too tired.  Tomorrow he would contact Ch’a’fen and M’hel and put into play the final stage of their plan.  Then, his revenge against the mighty Federation would be complete.

The tight, black clothes made Harry feel as though he were a burglar from one of Tom’s twentieth century stories.  Well, he was breaking and entering illegally, so he supposed he had a lot more in common with the villains of those stories than his normal Starfleet persona.  But he was doing it for a good cause; he had to remind himself of that.  Years before, B’Elanna had shown him one of her old Maquis tricks for temporarily dispersing a shield grid.  The shield that protected the ambassador’s apartment complex was quite large, and Harry wouldn’t be able to disable it completely.  However, he would be able to create a hole large enough for a man to get through.  He activated the device on his belt, creating the dispersal field and saw the shield around the building spark and fizzle, creating an opening wide enough for him to slip through.  All he had to do was get to the ambassador.  Once he had disrupted the Br’nai’s telepathic abilities, he could create another crack in the shield grid that would allow the Enterprise to beam them both up.  

Ambassador V’tan’s apartment was on the ground floor, and Harry slinked around the corner of the building until he found the window that led to the ambassador’s living room.  Looking around nervously, he pulled out a disruptor signal and activated it, disabling all security cameras within fifty meters.  Then he took out a thin laser and cut through the glass window, creating a door for himself into the apartment.  “Kim to Enterprise,” he whispered.  “I’m in.”  

Harry crept through the apartment, wary of any sound or movement.  He knew the exact location of the ambassador’s bedroom, and he found it easily.  He froze as the door to the bedroom creaked loudly.  The ambassador mumbled and turned over in his bed but did not wake, and Kim let out a relieved breath.  He pulled two devices off his belt - the small circular implement that had to be placed on the Br’nai’s neck and the device that was programmed with the light pulses that would disrupt the ambassador’s telepathic abilities.  Harry could see only shadows in the glow of the moonlight, but it was light enough for him to see his target.  He tiptoed over to the bed where the ambassador lay on his side.  Prepared with the light pulses in one hand, Harry reached over and attached the small neural transmitter to the ambassador’s neck with the other.  

As V’tan felt the cool metal on his skin, his eyes popped open.  “What the...”  He never got the chance to finish his sentence as a bright, blinking light shone into his eyes.  As the light flashed, V’tan fell silent and lay still, his eyes wide, transfixed by the flickering beam.  

“Kim to Enterprise,” Harry called, but before anyone could respond, the room lit up.  A short, curly haired Br’nai was standing in the doorway with several Starfleet security personnel.  

“There!  A burglar, just like I told you,” said Ril.  Then he saw V’tan’s catatonic state and rushed over to his master’s side.  “What have you done to him?”

Harry said nothing, hoping to feel the tingle of the Enterprise’s transporter beam before an explanation was necessary.

“If you’re hoping for some help from your friends, forget it,” said one of the security officers.  “You’re not going to get another chance to disrupt the shield grid.  There won’t be any unauthorized transports out of this building.”  

“I am Lieutenant Commander Harry Kim of the starship Enterprise.  I’m completing a mission under the orders of Captain Picard.”

The officer looked confused.  “If you’re Starfleet, why wasn’t Starfleet Security notified?”

“I can explain everything,” Harry pleaded.  “Let me contact Captain Picard.”

The officer took Harry’s comm badge and handed it to another member of his team.  “Check this out.  See if it’s genuine.  In the meantime, Mr. Kim, if that’s really your name, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.”  

“What about Ambassador V’tan?” Ril asked frantically.  “Something’s been done to him!”

“We’ll send over an emergency medical team,” said the officer.  “Wait here for them.”  The officer grabbed Harry roughly by the arm.  “Come on.”  Kim did not resist.  I’m getting arrested, he though.  This is great.  Just great.

Shrinking even further back into the tunnel, Mei watched in horror as Chakotay and Dr. M’hel remained locked in the throes of battle.  The fight did not seem to be going very well for her friend.  Each time he managed to hit the doctor, M’hel returned the blow with equal force.  Chakotay’s nose was bloody, and blood ran into his eye from a cut across his forehead.  His knuckles were scratched and red from repeated contact with the doctor’s skin.  Mei’s mind raced.  What could she do?  How could she help her friend?  She didn’t know how to operate any of the controls in the room.  She couldn’t take command of an army.  She wasn’t strong and smart like Chakotay; she was only a little girl.  What could she do?  

Chakotay groaned again as M’hel slammed his body up against a wall.  “You’ll... never... get away... with this,” her battered friend managed.  Suddenly determined, Mei took a step towards the room.  She had to do something.  She couldn’t let Chakotay die.  Dr. M’hel had caused too much destruction; he had caused too much pain and suffering to her people.  He had to be stopped, and she was the only one who could stop him.  Chakotay staggered forward, his arm swinging towards the doctor.  Despite his condition, his eyes still glimmered with fire.  He was still fighting.

The light caught something on the floor of the room, only a couple steps away from Mei.  It was Chakotay’s weapon.  She looked at it, her heart pounding, and then somehow managed to meet Chakotay’s gaze across the room.  He seemed to understand and nodded to her.  Then he threw himself at M’hel again with a loud yell, giving Mei the chance she needed to slip into the room unnoticed and pick up the weapon.

As Chakotay and the doctor continued to spar, Mei struggled to take aim at the doctor.  Finally, M’hel landed a punch in Chakotay’s gut that sent him staggering back, and Mei gained a clear shot.  She didn’t hesitate.  She fired, hitting M’hel squarely in the back.  He turned, slowly, his eyes wide, and saw her standing there for the first time.  “You,” he whispered.  “You are just a girl!”  

She stood there, shaking, unable to move, still pointing the foreign weapon at him.  “This is for Br’nai!” she said.  “This is for Br’nai!”

M’hel lunged at her, his movements clumsy, and Mei was afraid.  The doctor had a wild, crazy look in his eyes, but she stood, frozen to the floor.  She tried to fire the weapon again, but her fingers fumbled and the gun clattered to the floor.  Dr. M’hel stumbled and then fell to his knees.  “You are just a girl,” he repeated.  “How could you do this to me?”  He collapsed onto his hands and then into a prone position on the floor, wheezing.

As the doctor fell, Mei turned to Chakotay, who was pulling himself to his feet and wiping the blood from his face.  She was about to smile at him and offer him her hand when she felt a sharp pain hit her back.  When she looked up, Chakotay’s face was filled with horror, and she saw his mouth move in the shape of her name, although she could not hear his scream.  Dark spots began to appear in her vision, and she felt her legs give out from under her.  Somehow, she managed to twist her head around, trying to understand what had happened.  Then she saw Dr. M’hel, Chakotay’s weapon in his hand, sneering at her, his eyes gleaming.  “You’ll pay,” he rasped.  Then the doctor collapsed, face down on the floor.  One last breath shuddered through him, and then he was gone.

Mei felt something wet on her face.  Was it raining?  She looked up, squinting into the bright light above her.  The sun was shining, and the sky behind it was a perfect blue.  Her father was leaning over her, whispering her name, cradling her against him like he had when she was a little girl.  “Papa?” she whispered.  It had been so long since she had seen him.  She had missed him so much.  As she felt his strong arms around her, she smiled, closing her eyes and allowing his strength to shelter her.

“Come on, Mei, stay with me,” Chakotay said, gently shaking the girl’s frail figure.  He felt a lump rise in his throat when the girl mistook him for her father, but he did not correct her.  “It’s okay, Mei.  We’re going to get you back to Voyager.  You’re going to be okay.”  But even as Chakotay said the words, he knew he could not keep the promise.  He held Mei against him, watched her lips curl into a peaceful smile and felt one last breath leave her body as she closed her eyes.

For a moment, Chakotay couldn’t move, the alien girl’s body still in his arms.  Tears streamed down his cheeks onto her now lifeless face.  “This is for Br’nai,” she had said.  What courage this girl had possessed.  Chakotay was determined that her death would not be in vain.  He gently laid her down on the cold floor before checking M’hel’s body.  The doctor was dead, and Chakotay knew what he had to do.  M’hel had said that the army would continue to carry out it its old orders until it received new ones.  

He sat down at the control station where M’hel had been sitting and took the alien halo in his hands.  He had no idea if the technology would even interface with the human brain, but he had to try.  For Voyager, for Br’nai, for Mei, and for Kathryn.  He placed the halo on his head and activated the neural interface.  Pain seared through his skull, and the shock of it nearly sent him falling out of his chair, but he gripped the console in front of him and forced himself to open his mind to the interface.

A thousand voices were suddenly screaming inside his head.  It was as though he could see through a thousand different eyes at once.  He saw the inside of underground caverns, the control panels of fighters, Voyager and Borg vessels out a view screen.  Chakotay’s head was pounding, and he tasted bile, nearly ready to expel the contents of his stomach, but he took a breath and forced himself to concentrate.  Orders, he thought.  I need to give them orders.  He gritted his teeth against the pain and directed his thoughts at the thousands of screaming voices in his mind.  Can you... hear... me?

Suddenly, the screaming quieted, although the excruciating pain remained.  Yes, master.  We hear you.

Tuvok stood in front of the locked door, listening to the whimpering of the man behind it.  “Emperor Ch’a’fen, you must open this door.  Do you desire a war with the Federation?”

The corridor and the door disappeared, and Tuvok found himself in the Great Hall, at the opposite end of the long room from the throne.  There were no guards lining the walls, and the room’s customary white and gold decor had gone grey.  Ch’a’fen sat on the throne, screaming.  His hands and feet were bound to the chair, and a long blade hovered in front of his neck.  “Help me!” he shouted.  “Someone, please, help me!”

Tuvok rushed towards him and leaned down to undo the bindings on the emperor’s feet, but as soon as he touched them, a beam lanced out of the throne, throwing him backwards onto the floor.  “You must help yourself,” Tuvok rasped as he drew himself to his feet, remaining at a safe distance.

“Help me!” the emperor screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks.  “Please!”

“Calm your mind,” Tuvok ordered.  His forceful tone seemed to grab Ch’a’fen’s attention, and the Br’nai stopped screaming and looked at him.  “You are in control.  You must discipline your thoughts.  V’tan has bound you here, but only by your own consent.”

The emperor began to whimper again.  “Why would Tan do such a thing?  He is my best friend.  He loves me.”

“Ambassador V’tan has used you for his own ends.  I do not believe ‘love’ would be an appropriate emotion to describe his feelings for you.”

“No.  No, he would never...”  Ch’a’fen trailed off, his gaze seeming far away.

“Emperor Ch’a’fen!”  Tuvok’s sharp tone brought the emperor’s eyes back to him.  “Listen to me.  You wish for someone to help you?”  Ch’a’fen nodded.  “You are the only person who can help yourself.  Tell me what you want.”

“I want to save my people.”

“By initiating a war with the Federation?”

“No!  I want peace with the Federation.  Tan and I, we set out to create a new era for Br’nai, a peaceful era where we were no longer isolated from other races.”

“How will allowing your army to attack Federation vessels accomplish this goal?”

For the first time, Tuvok felt that he had gotten through to the emperor.  “It won’t,” Ch’a’fen whispered.  Then he looked down at the bindings that held him to the throne and the blade that hovered in front of his neck.  “I must get out of here!” he exclaimed hysterically.  “Release me!  Guards!”

“Emperor!  Calm yourself.”  Breathing hard, Ch’a’fen attempted to stave off his panic.  “The restraints that hold you to the throne and the knife at your throat are there by your own consent.  You have allowed V’tan to hold power over you for so many years that you no longer even realize it.  Please, allow me to approach the throne.”

Ch’a’fen nodded.  “Approach.”

This time, when Tuvok touched the grey throne, no flash of light threw him backwards.  He touched the emperor’s hand.  “You wish to lead your people.  You must first take control of your own mind.”

The emperor looked into the Vulcan’s dark eyes.  “How?”

“You must choose your course of action.  You must choose not to allow V’tan to manipulate you anymore.”

The emperor closed his eyes, and for a moment Tuvok thought that he had lost his battle.  But then Ch’a’fen looked up at him calmly and said, “I choose peace.  V’tan is wrong.”  The blade at the emperor’s neck disappeared.  “I must lead my people.  Please, help me untie these bindings.”  This time, when Tuvok knelt to release the emperor’s feet, the bindings came away easily.  As Ch’a’fen stood from his chair, the throne room began to glow.  The grey that had enveloped it a moment earlier gave way to a brilliant, white light...

Gasping, Tuvok released his grasp on the emperor’s face.  He collapsed to the floor, exhausted.  Normally he would take hours of meditation to prepare for this sort of mind meld, but there had been no time.  He saw Dr. Davidson’s concerned face above him as she scanned him with a medical tricorder.  “How do you feel, Commander?”

“I am fine, Doctor,” Tuvok rasped.

R’fet was kneeling by his emperor.  “Master!” he called.  “Your Majesty!”  Ch’a’fen opened his black eyes and looked up at R’fet.  He felt as though he could see clearly for the first time in years - maybe even the first time in his life.  His radiant smile brought tears to the guard’s eyes.  “Oh, my Emperor!” he exclaimed, bowing his head in reverence.

The emperor knelt beside the Vulcan who lay on the floor.  “Commander Tuvok, I am forever in your debt.”  Tuvok barely managed a nod.  “Will he be all right, Doctor?” Ch’a’fen asked as he accepted R’fet’s help to his feet.

“He’ll be fine.  He just needs some rest.”

“R’fet, take Commander Tuvok and the doctor to the Royal Hospital.  See that they receive a warm welcome and that the commander is treated by my personal physician.”

“Yes, Emperor.”

“Where are you going?” Davidson asked.

“I am going to make sure that this battle comes to a swift conclusion - one that doesn’t involve the destruction of Voyager or any other Federation ship at the hands of the Br’nai,” the emperor replied.  “I am going to the Foundation to find M’hel and stop him before it is too late.”

Above Br’nai, the battle continued.  The Borg had adapted their defenses since their previous battle with Axum and his people, and the rebel drones had barely made a dent in the Collective’s force.  “Target the closest Borg vessel,” Axum ordered.  “Fire at will.  Send Korok after the other one.”

“They’re evading us,” warned Isha.

“Pursuit course.”

“Axum, perhaps I should take a shuttle and use it to distract them,” Seven suggested.

He shook his head.  “Too dangerous.”

“But another ship - it would be logical.”

“Not now, Annika.” 

She frowned.  His emotions were getting in the way of his judgment.  Perhaps she should just go, without his permission.  She was about to turn when the cube was rocked with a blast.  

“We’ve been hit by one of the nanoprobe torpedoes,” said Laura with alarm.  

“Shields?” Seven asked.

“Holding for now.”  

“Seven, look at this!” Isha exclaimed, pointing to the screen in front of her.  It displayed a schematic of the area where the nanoprobe torpedo had hit.  

“The nanoprobes are assimilating our shields,” Seven realized.  “They have adapted.”  

She felt Axum’s breath in her ear.  “Someone has to go down there and administer the antidote to that area of the ship.”

“I’ll go,” Seven offered, but Axum shook his head.

“It’s my ship,” he said.  “I’ll go.”

“Axum’s ship has been hit!” exclaimed B’Elanna.

Before Janeway had a chance to respond, Voyager was hit again, and sparks flew from several of the panels on the bridge.  The blast sent Janeway careening onto the floor.  When she looked up, she saw that Torres had tumbled to the ground as well, and Tom was gripping his console hard.  “Report,” she managed, pulling herself to her feet and straightening her hair.

“We’ve taken heavy damage,” Andrews reported.  “Transporters are offline.  Shields at thirty percent.  Life support is minimal.  Environmental controls and communications are down.  Hull breaches imminent on decks ten through thirteen.”

“We can’t survive another blast like that,” said Torres.

“Can we target the underground command center on the planet?” Janeway asked, moving to stand next to B’Elanna at the tactical station.  

“We’d have to take out their shield grid first,” the engineer replied.  “I’m not sure we can last that long.”

“What about the Hugh and the Delta Flyer?  Would the two of them have enough power to destroy that underground base?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take the Hugh.  Baytart can take the Flyer.  Tom, you’ll be in command of Voyager.  If we don’t come back, you’re under orders to do anything you can to stop the Borg and the Br’nai.  Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But Chakotay is still down there,” Torres protested.  “If you’re going to destroy the command center while he’s...”  The pain in Janeway’s eyes stopped B’Elanna mid-sentence.  

“They must be stopped, B’Elanna.  Chakotay knows that.”

Janeway was about to order Baytart to the shuttle bay when Tom exclaimed, “Look!”  Kathryn turned to the view screen and her eyes widened.  She stepped slowly down from the tactical station and stared at the image.  The Br’nai ships had stopped pursuing Voyager and appeared to be changing course.  At first, Janeway thought they were regrouping for another attack, or turning towards Axum’s ships, but then she realized that they were turning on the Collective.  All the remaining Br’nai vessels suddenly began circling the Borg cubes and firing on them.  

Kathryn sank down into her chair, placing a hand over her mouth, her knees suddenly weak.  She closed her eyes for a moment to hide the tears of joy and gratitude that threatened to spill over onto her cheeks.  “Chakotay,” she whispered, “thank you.”

Ch’a’fen raced through the underground tunnel system, searching for M’hel.  He burned with humiliation as he began to see how much V’tan had manipulated him over the years.  Had this been his ‘friend’s’ plan all along?  To dominate?  To fight?  To conquer?  Was everything they had shared since boyhood a lie?  Ch’a’fen could hardly fathom it, but he felt a fresh wave of determination surge through him.  V’tan had been manipulating him all along, but now it was up to him to pick up the broken pieces that V’tan had left behind.  He was the emperor, and he was going to lead, no matter what the cost.

It took him several minutes to find the underground control center.  The tunnels were confusing and it had been years since he had been in M’hel’s underground lab, back in the days when the Br’nai rebels had used it as a base.  But finally, he emerged into the control room.  The sight that greeted him shocked him.  M’hel lay on the ground, dead.  A few meters from him lay the body of a Br’nai girl.  And a human lay slumped over the control panel, either dead or unconscious, a metal halo surrounding his head.  As Ch’a’fen examined the controls, he realized that the halo was the neural interface that controlled the army.  Gently pushing the human aside, Ch’a’fen removed the halo from his head and placed it on his own.  The sound of thousands of voices greeted him as the interface was established.

I am your emperor, Ch’a’fen told them.  You will obey my orders.

Yes, Emperor, came the reply.

Good, Ch’a’fen thought.  He cleared his mind and allowed the images from the fighters to filter in.  Soon, this battle would be over.  Then, he would have to decide what to do with V’tan.

In the middle of the night, Admiral Alynna Nechayev bolted upright, fully awake, feeling a cold sweat over her body.  She looked at the chronometer by her bedside - 0300.  Why had she awoken?  Then, suddenly, a series of images began to flood her mind - memories of her actions over the past several weeks.  Recalling ships to Earth, countermanding orders - she felt as though she were seeing herself through a fog, a fog which had suddenly been lifted.

Nechayev threw her feet over the side of the bed and put on her robe.  She had to contact Starfleet Command immediately.  Something was very wrong.

Chapter Text

22

Hope

“To love means loving the unlovable.  To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable.  Faith means believing the unbelievable.  Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless.”
    -Gilbert K. Chesterton

Seven of Nine ran through the corridors of Axum’s cube, moving quickly towards the section where Axum had gone to administer the anti-nanoprobe solution.  Her heart pounded against her rib cage and her stomach churned; she did not find the unfamiliar sensations pleasant.  Her heart was not beating from the exertion of running, but from heightened fear.  She and Axum had only just reunited.  Would they never be able to explore their relationship?  Would he ever be able to experience a life without the constraints of Borg technology?  Her stomach turned over at the idea, and she thought how strange it was that her feelings had such a strong influence on her physical state.

It was only a matter of minutes before Seven reached her destination, but it seemed like hours.  Possibilities flashed through her mind.  Was Axum dead?  Had he been re-assimilated?  As she approached the affected area of the ship, she called out his name and then stopped running, listening for a response.  At first, there was none, but then she heard a groan.  “Axum?”

“Annika?”  The voice moaned again.  “Annika, over here.”  Turning, Seven saw where a support beam had collapsed, having become detached from the bulkhead.  Axum was trapped beneath it, and she hurriedly knelt beside him.  “I neutralized the nanoprobes.  I was just about to head back to the bridge when this bulkhead collapsed.  What are you doing here?  The battle...”

“Is over,” she finished for him.  “The Br’nai turned against the Collective and destroyed their ships.  Our vessels are damaged, but they withstood the attack.”  She struggled to lift the beam off of him, but it was too heavy for her, and she knelt to examine his leg.  “You are damaged.  You require medical treatment.”

“I’ll be all right.”  Axum reached for her hand.

She tapped her comm badge.  “Seven of Nine to the Doctor.”  The EMH answered, and Seven informed him of the situation.  As they waited for him to arrive, she felt Axum’s eyes on her.  “Do you have something you wish to say?”

He smiled despite the pain in his leg.  “No.  I’m just memorizing your face.”

“Memorizing?”

“Yes.  So that when I close my eyes I’ll see every detail perfectly.”

Seven felt an emotion rising in her chest, but she could not identify it.  “That is an inefficient use of your time.”

Axum’s smile broadened.  “I don’t care.”

Seven thought that this was an inappropriate environment for romantic conversation, and she was about to say so when the EMH appeared.  “Doctor, help me move this beam,” she said, releasing Axum’s hand.  The Doctor helped Seven lift the beam as Axum scooted away from it, wincing in pain.  The beam fell to the deck with a loud clank, and Seven rushed back to Axum’s side.  “You are in pain.”

“A little.”  

The Doctor scanned his damaged leg.  “Your leg is broken in several places, but it’s nothing I can’t fix.  Seven, help me get him to the medical bay.”  The Doctor had transformed part of the Borg vessel into a makeshift sickbay that he could use to complete the removal of Borg implants.  Sakar, another member of Axum’s crew, had been a doctor before his assimilation and had been assisting the EMH with medical procedures.

When the three arrived at the medical bay, Sakar was tending to a few other patients.  As soon as he saw Axum leaning heavily on Seven and the Doctor, he hurried over.  “What happened?”

“I had a little run in with part of a bulkhead.”

“His leg is broken,” said the EMH.

Sakar gestured.  “There’s an empty bed.”

“Any casualties, Sakar?” Axum asked, ignoring the pain in his leg.

“We were lucky,” the doctor replied.  “Only minor injuries.  Yours is probably the worst of them.”  He looked Axum up and down for a moment.  “Get over there and lie down, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” Axum replied mockingly.  Seven and the EMH helped him over to the bed; he groaned in discomfort as his leg jostled.

Seven took his hand and tenderly cupped his cheek.  This setting seemed more appropriate for displays of affection.  “I am glad you suffered no permanent damage.”

“Me, too.  We have our whole lives ahead of us, Annika.”  

As she leaned down to kiss him, the EMH turned away, embarrassed to be witnessing this intimate moment.  He was happy for Seven and the special connection she had found with Axum, but he could not help but feel a pang of jealousy, too.  Suddenly, his comm badge chirped.  “Janeway to the Doctor.”

“I’m here.”

“Doctor, how is the situation over there?  Can you accompany me to the surface?”

The Doctor frowned, noticing the tremor in Janeway’s voice.  “We have very few casualties.  A broken leg and some minor injuries.  What’s wrong?”

“Chakotay, Mei, and Mike Ayala are down there and they may require medical attention.  B’Elanna will have the transporters back online in less than an hour.”

The EMH glanced at Sakar, who had overheard the conversation.  “I have everything under control here,” the Borg doctor said.  “I’ll take care of Axum and the others.”

“In that case, I’ll be happy to join you, Admiral.”  

Seven looked back and forth from the EMH to Axum.  The Doctor could see that she, too, had been alarmed by Janeway’s tone.  “May I be of assistance?”

“I don’t know what we’re going to find down there, Seven,” Janeway replied.

“Then it would be prudent to bring a larger team.”  She looked down at Axum, still gripping his hand, silently seeking his approval.  He gave her a small nod.  He had an inkling of how much Janeway and Chakotay meant to her.

“All right, Seven.  I’ll signal you when I’m ready to beam down.  Janeway out.”

The EMH wore a solemn expression when he met Seven’s eyes.  “I’ll go prepare some extra medical supplies.”

Seven nodded and turned her attention back to Axum.  “You will not... miss me too much?”

“I’ll survive.  Hurry back, my darling Annika.”

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his.  “I will.”

So this is what a Federation prison is like, Harry thought, staring up at the grey ceiling of his cell, trying in vain to sleep.  He kept wondering if his mission had been successful and covered his eyes with his arm, unable to bear the thought that he had failed.  Without warning, the door to the cell opened, and Harry sat up, expecting to find a Starfleet security guard standing in front of him.  Instead, he was faced with Admiral Nechayev, flanked by two security officers.  “Lieutenant Commander Kim.”

He stood quickly, snapping to attention.  “Admiral.”

“Come with me, please.”  Harry followed, his heart pounding, as he imagined the worst.  Would he be court-martialed?  Demoted?  Imprisoned?  He followed the admiral into Starfleet Headquarters and a room filled with Starfleet brass, including Admiral Henry, Admiral Paris and Admiral Ross.

“Have a seat, Harry,” said Paris.  Kim knew Owen from spending time with the Paris family, but the man’s familiar presence did little to allay his fears.  He sat uncomfortably in the open chair.

“Lieutenant Commander Kim,” said Nechayev, “perhaps you’d like to tell us why you were trespassing in Ambassador V’tan’s apartment in the middle of the night.”

Harry felt uneasiness fill the pit of his stomach.  Were some of them still under V’tan’s control?  He had no way of knowing.  He glanced at Admiral Paris, who gave him an encouraging nod, then took a deep breath and decided to tell the truth.  He explained how Counselor Troi had discovered V’tan’s manipulations and how he, LaForge and Crusher had devised a way to stop him.  “We didn’t know who we could trust.  That’s why I came alone.”  Nechayev, Ross and Henry exchanged glances, and Kim looked at them nervously.  “I know I shouldn’t have entered the ambassador’s residence without permission, but it was the only way to administer the treatment.”

“You did the right thing, Harry,” said Paris.

“Sir?”

“Admiral Ross, Admiral Henry and I were all under the Ambassador’s control,” explained Nechayev.  “We realized this morning that we had been influenced by someone or something over the past few months, but we weren’t sure who was involved.  When you were apprehended, we started to put the pieces together.”

“I assume you have proof of your accusations,” Ross said.

“Yes, sir.  On the Enterprise.”

Nechayev looked at Paris.  “Contact Captain Picard and have him send a team.  And send for Counselor Troi as well.  Have our people start reviewing Commander Kim’s data.”  

“If I may ask, Admiral,” put in Harry, “where’s the ambassador now?”

“He’s being held in protective custody in a secure psychiatric facility,” said Admiral Henry.  “We’re doing everything we can to make sure he never influences anyone again.”

“We also suspect that he’s been controlling members of the Federation Council,” said Harry.

Admiral Henry nodded.  “We felt that was likely as well.  We’re already trying to determine which council members might have been affected.”

“Mr. Kim,” said Nechayev, “there will have to be a formal inquiry into this matter.  You did illegally break into the domicile of a high ranking diplomat, and we cannot ignore that fact.  However, we will ensure that you have the best counsel available, and I think it is likely, given the circumstances, that all charges against you will be dropped.”

Harry allowed himself a small sigh of relief.  “Thank you.”

“You are free to return to your duties on the Enterprise,” said Ross, “but we ask that you not leave Earth until a hearing can be convened.”

“I understand.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stay for the briefing with Captain Picard and the others,” said Nechayev, “although you may return to the Enterprise if you’d like.”

“No,” said Harry, “I’ll stay.”  He wanted to make 100% sure that Ambassador V’tan was brought to justice here and now.

“And Harry,” added Admiral Paris with a fatherly smile, “thank you.  You’ve done well.”

“Just doing my duty, sir,” Kim replied.  He left the room and went to meet Captain Picard, and inwardly, he smiled.  He was going to have a hell of a story to tell Tom the next time he saw him.

   
Once they had destroyed the Borg ships, the Br’nai fleet hung in space, motionless, as if it had fallen asleep.  The unmoving ships formed an eerie picture, and it looked as if time had stopped above Br’nai.  Aboard Voyager, sickbay was full of casualties, and Janeway had begun coordinating repairs to Voyager’s damaged systems.  B’Elanna finally succeeded at getting the transporters back online, and Tuvok, Davidson and Ashmore beamed up from the planet.  The Br’nai medics and Dr. Davidson had taken excellent care of Tuvok, and he had fully recovered from his mind meld.  As he retook command of Voyager, Janeway knew that her place was no longer on the bridge of that starship but with the man who had risked everything for her.

Kathryn Janeway could count on one hand the number of times she had been certain she was about to die.  In the face of the Borg, Species 8472, the Kazon, and the Hirogen, she had never doubted her ability to survive.  But this day, pursued by dozens of Br’nai fighters and the Borg Collective, she had been certain of her own imminent death - hers, Chakotay’s, and several hundred others.  But through some miracle, she was still alive, and she silently prayed that Chakotay was, too.

The heat of the battle had brought her a flash of insight.  Have I been wrong all this time? she had wondered as the certainty of death loomed before her.  There she was, about to die, and the Federation for which she had risked everything, to which she had devoted her life, had betrayed and abandoned her.  Ultimately, it had not been Starfleet that had come through for her, it had been her Voyager family.  In the end, it had been Chakotay, the enemy she had sworn to capture, who had stood by her side for nine years with immeasurable loyalty and friendship and who had helped her defeat her most deadly enemies.

Together, they had fought the evil of the Br’nai and the Borg, and they had won.  Together, they had protected the Federation - not with Starfleet, not with rank and protocol - but with trust, an unerring belief in justice and an absolute conviction about what was right.  Kathryn’s love for this man - for what he was willing to do for her, but more for what he was willing to do with her - rose in her chest like a raging fire.  You must be alive, she thought as she stepped onto the transporter pad.  You must.  She tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway to Seven.”

“Seven here.”

“Our transporters are back online.”

“The Doctor and I are ready.”

Janeway turned to the transporter operator.  “Lock onto their signals and beam us all to the underground coordinates.  Energize.”  A moment later, she stood at the transport site, surrounded by bodies.  Two Br’nai lay on the ground, and Mike Ayala’s still form was face down in the dirt.  Janeway ran over to him, turning him over onto his back, checking for a pulse.  She heard the hum of the transporter as Seven and the Doctor materialized behind her.  “Doctor!”

The EMH hurried over to her side and scanned Ayala.  “His pulse is weak and his respiratory function is below normal.  It looks like he was hit by some kind of disruptor beam.  He needs to get to sickbay.”

Janeway tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway to Voyager.  Can you lock onto Lieutenant Ayala and beam him directly to sickbay?”

“I’m having a hard time establishing a lock,” came the voice of the transporter operator.  “Compensating...  Yes, got him!”  Mike’s body disappeared and Janeway stood, her heart pounding in her chest.  Had Chakotay suffered a similar fate?

“I have modified these tricorders to scan through the interference in the caverns,” Seven informed Janeway, tossing her a tricorder.  “We should be able to detect Chakotay’s life signs.”  The three of them set off into the tunnels, Seven leading the way.  Janeway didn’t allow herself to think or to feel, only to move.  There would be time to feel later.  

The path through the tunnels was long and convoluted, but they pressed forward, and just as Kathryn began to fear they would never find Chakotay, an artificial light source appeared ahead.  She broke into a run, leaving Seven and the Doctor lagging behind.  A door was cracked open, and she pushed at it until she fit through.  The first thing she saw was M’hel’s dead body, and then Mei’s motionless corpse.  She felt a momentary pang of sorrow at the girl’s death.  But where was Chakotay?  

As she rounded the large, circular console at the center of the room, she saw two more figures - the emperor, slumped over a panel, a metallic halo surrounding his head, and, next to him, Chakotay, also collapsed over the controls.  In a step, she was beside him, pulling his body off the console and lowering him gently to the ground, resting his head in her lap.  His breathing was shallow, and his pulse weak, but he was alive.  “Doctor!” she screamed.  How had Seven and the Doctor fallen so far behind her?  She stroked Chakotay’s cheek.  “Chakotay?  Chakotay, can you hear me?”  His ashen face remained unresponsive.

The EMH and Seven burst into the room.  When he saw Janeway seated on the floor, cradling the commander’s body, the Doctor leapt to her side, quickly scanning the unconscious man.  “He’s suffered major neurological damage.  How did this happen?”

“Perhaps it had something to do with this,” Seven said, running a tricorder over the device around the emperor’s head.

“What is it?” Janeway asked.

“It appears to be some kind of neural interface,” Seven reported.  “The emperor is alive but unconscious.  He does not appear to be severely damaged.”

“Using alien devices without testing their effects,” the Doctor muttered as he continued to scan Chakotay.

“He didn’t have much choice, Doctor,” Janeway shot back.  “If that device is what I think it is, he used it to send orders to the Br’nai army.”  The Doctor continued to scan Chakotay as Janeway stroked his cheek.  “What’s his prognosis?”

“I don’t know yet.”  Suddenly, the medical tricorder began to beep wildly.  “He’s going into neural shock!” the EMH cried.  “We need to get him to sickbay immediately.”

“Seven, can you deactivate the shields around this part of the compound?” Janeway asked.

Seven’s hands flew over the controls, and a moment later, she informed them, “The shields have been deactivated.”

“Janeway to Voyager.  Seven’s deactivated the shields around this area of the compound.  You should be able to detect us now.”

“I’m reading four life signs,” Andrews’ voice replied.

“You should also be reading the Doctor’s mobile emitter.  Beam us all directly to sickbay.”  The shimmer of the transporter beam caught them and they reappeared in sickbay.      

“Help me get him onto a biobed,” the EMH ordered as soon as they materialized.  Janeway helped the Doctor with Chakotay while Davidson saw to the emperor.  

“Get me a neurosequencer,” the EMH barked at a nearby nurse.  The nurse, slightly taken aback, took a moment to find the correct implement and hand it to the EMH.  “I have to stabilize his motor cortex.”    

Kathryn went to the computer terminal to monitor Chakotay’s life signs.  “His synaptic functions are still falling!” she cried.  Please don’t die.

Davidson rushed over to assist the EMH after affirming that her other patient was stable for the moment.  “I’m reading massive somatophysical failure,” she said.  “We’re losing him.”

“Two cc’s delactovine,” the EMH ordered.  The hypospray was placed in his hand by someone - he didn’t register who - and he applied it to Chakotay’s neck, watching his tricorder carefully.  “His respiratory functions are stabilizing, but his synaptic responses are still failing!”

“Try a full cardiac induction,” said Davidson.

“His blood pressure is dropping,” Janeway warned.

“I’m reading severe fluctuations in the isocortex,” added Davidson.

“Cortical stimulator!” the EMH barked.  He placed the small silver nodule on Chakotay’s forehead.  “Ten percent,” he ordered.  Davidson initiated the device.

“Blood pressure is still falling!” Kathryn said, her hands trembling over the controls.  Come on, Chakotay.  Don’t you dare die on me now.

“Twenty five percent.”

“Isocortical functions are stabilizing,” said Davidson, “but not quickly enough.  His synaptic pattern is degrading.”

“Increase cortical stimulation to thirty five percent!” ordered the EMH.  Slowly, the beeping on the biobed slowed, and Davidson let out a breath.

“Cortical functions are stabilizing,” Kathryn said in relief.  She approached the biobed where Chakotay lay and stared down at his pale complexion.  “Will he be all right?”

The EMH placed his hand on her shoulder.  “I don’t know.  His synaptic functions were severely damaged by the Br’nai neural interface.  It was not intended for use by humans.  I’ll have to do extensive neurological re-sequencing, and it may be several days before we know if the treatment has been successful.”

“I see.”  Her adrenaline was beginning to fade, and Janeway stood, arms wrapped around her body, as if she needed to hold herself up.  Her eyes had not left Chakotay’s face.  

“Why don’t you get some rest?” the Doctor suggested.

“Where?” Janeway replied tonelessly.  “I don’t have quarters aboard this ship anymore.”

“I’m sure Tuvok will be happy to assign you some guest quarters.”

“He’s in the midst of repairs.  I don’t want to bother him.”

The EMH looked at Janeway with concern.  By outward appearance, she seemed calm and collected.  Her face showed no distress, and her eyes were blank.  But it was precisely the lack of emotion that concerned him.  Even when Janeway tried to hide her emotions, as she often did, the way she felt about a situation was clear.

“Why don’t you use my quarters, dear?” suggested Davidson, putting an arm around Janeway’s shoulders.  The EMH was surprised that instead of arguing with the other doctor, Janeway slumped against her side, finally letting her hands fall, allowing Davidson to support her.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition.  I’ll be in sickbay for hours yet.  Come on.”  Davidson left Kathryn little choice as she escorted her out of sickbay and to her quarters.  Once in the corridor, Janeway straightened and pulled away from the doctor’s supportive arm.  She walked stiffly, her back ramrod straight, her eyes expressionless. 

Davidson pressed the keypad for entry into her quarters and Janeway was greeted by a warm, homey environment.  “I imagine Lieutenant Torres will have the replicators back online in no time,” the doctor said in a motherly tone.  “Until then, there’s some fruit on the table if you’re hungry.  Feel free to use the shower and anything else you need.  And let me get you something to change into.  How long have you been in those clothes?”

“I don’t know.  A few days?”

Davidson disappeared into the bedroom for a moment and came back with a soft, lavender sweat suit.  “This will be a little big on you, but it will be comfortable.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“I need to get back to sickbay, but let me know if there’s anything you need, dear.”

“Thank you.  I’m sure I’ll be fine.  Be sure to notify me of any change in... in the commander’s condition.”  

“Of course.”  The doctor exited the room, and Kathryn sank down into the sofa, allowing its soft cushions to envelop her.  She knew that she should try to sleep, but she didn’t feel tired.  She sat there for a long time, her mind blank, before she stood and walked into the bathroom.  Catching a glimpse of her own face in the mirror, she stopped.  Her skin was smudged with dirt, and grime streaked down her cheek and across her forehead.  She felt as though she were looking at a stranger with foreign grey eyes.  She raised two fingers to her lips, mimicking the gesture Chakotay had made earlier, trying to remember the sensation of his lips on hers, summoning the feeling of his body pressed against her.  She cried out as her knees suddenly gave way, and she slumped against the bathroom sink, gripping it with both hands.  Then the moment was gone and her eerie calm returned.

She stripped off her clothes, which were caked with dirt and sweat, and stepped into the sonic shower.  She stood there, motionless, allowing it to remove the grime from her body, and she wondered briefly if she was in shock.  She should be feeling something, she thought.  She should be pacing or crying or pounding her fists against the bulkhead.  But she wasn’t.  She was just still.  

Her skin clean, Janeway changed into the sweat suit that Davidson had left.  It was large on her, but the soft fabric felt comforting.  Knowing she would still not be able to sleep, she sat down at Davidson’s computer terminal, thinking that perhaps she could find some work to do.  Then she realized that there was no work for her to do, that her presence aboard Voyager was more out of happenstance than necessity.  She sat staring at the screen for a long time, and then she accessed the computer’s literary database.  She found Dante’s La Vita Nuova and began to read.

The Federation Council was in chaos.  The morning session had barely begun when a Starfleet security team barged in, halting their proceedings.  “Please remain in your seats,” said Admiral Toddman as armed security personnel scattered throughout the chamber.  

“Admiral,” exclaimed Sturik with as much emotion as Lilith Baines had ever heard the Vulcan express, “this is highly irregular.”

“I’m sorry, Councilman, but it’s necessary.  May I make an announcement to the Council?”

“It doesn’t appear as if I have much choice,” Sturik replied, gesturing to the armed guards.  “The floor is yours.”

Toddman stepped up to the podium.  “Council members, may I have your attention?”  Everyone was talking loudly, trying to understand what was going on, but they quieted when Toddman spoke.  “This morning, Starfleet security apprehended Ambassador V’tan after discovering that he has been using telepathic mind control to influence the actions of several Starfleet admirals as well as members of the Federation Council.  We will need to question each of you to ensure your fitness to continue to serve on the Council.  If you’ll remain in your seats, we will proceed with the interviews as quickly as possible.”

“I believe the logical course of action is to suspend our normal proceedings until this matter can be cleared up,” Sturik said.  “This session is hereby adjourned.”  He banged the gavel and the order in the chamber instantly disintegrated as council members anxiously attempted to contact their home planets and tried to get more information from Starfleet security.

Lilith Baines shook her head in disbelief.  Brilliant, V’tan, she thought.  What a brilliant little stunt.  And you were so close to pulling it off, too.  She hadn’t known about his mind control techniques, but she realized now, when she saw Thelos sitting in a corner, looking dazed and confused, that the Andorian must have been the first to fall into V’tan’s grasp.  That explained why Thelos had suddenly begun speaking out in favor of progressive measures.  He hadn’t been suddenly enlightened; he had been under V’tan’s control.  

Baines began to slink back into a corner, away from all the action.  Undoubtedly, all the bills that had passed in the past few months would be nullified or re-introduced for debate and resubmitted for a vote.  She doubted any of them would pass without the vocal support of council members like Thelos and others who may have been controlled by the Br’nai ambassador.  The Exploration Equality Bill would certainly be overturned.

Shrinking back farther, Lilith suddenly wondered if her own motives would come into question, since she had been such a vocal supporter of the measures that V’tan had worked so hard to pass.  Would she also be accused of trying to harm the Federation?  Would she be the next one to be imprisoned?  The next thing she knew, Janeway would probably have her commission reinstated, a hero once again, and be elevated to a new level of respect that no one could deserve.

No, Lilith thought.  She had thought that on the Federation Council she would find other likeminded people who would aid her cause.  She had found such a person in V’tan, but now he was gone.  There was nothing for her here anymore.  Without attracting anyone’s attention amidst the chaos, Lilith Baines quietly slipped out the back door of the Council chamber.  

There were lights and voices around him - voices he didn’t recognize.  As Ch’a’fen opened his eyes, he realized that he was in an unfamiliar place, and an unfamiliar man was leaning over him, scanning him with a Federation medical device.  “You’re awake,” the man said.  “How do you feel?”

“Where am I?” the emperor countered.  

“I’m a doctor,” the man said.  “You’re aboard Voyager.”

“What happened?” Ch’a’fen demanded, pushing himself up into a seated position.  “The battle?  The army?  The Borg?”

“Relax, Emperor,” the Doctor said.  “Everything is fine.  Commander Tuvok will be here in a moment, and he’ll explain everything.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“We found you unconscious in Dr. M’hel’s underground compound.  You had been using some sort of neural interface to control your army.  Use of the interface requires a great deal of mental discipline and training which you do not have.”

“But I’m all right now?”

“Yes.  You were exhausted and rendered unconscious, but I do not believe you suffered any permanent damage.”

“And Commander Tuvok?  He’s all right?”

At that moment, the sickbay doors swished open and Tuvok entered.  “I am well, Your Highness.”  He turned to the Doctor.  “Report.”

“The emperor is in perfect health.  He’s free to return to the surface.”

Ch’a’fen stood and took a step towards Tuvok.  “Thank you, my friend, for showing me the truth.”

“You are the one who had to see it, Your Majesty.  I merely served as a guide.”

“You are too modest, Commander.  I never would have broken free of V’tan’s chains if not for you.  Now, tell me everything you know about my former friend.  I must decide how to deal with him.”

“Perhaps you would like to accompany me to the ready room,” Tuvok suggested.  “We can continue our discussion there.”

“Of course.  What became of my army in the aftermath of the battle?”

“Your ships remain suspended above Br’nai.  It seems that they completed the last order you gave them, and they have been inanimate ever since.”

Ch’a’fen looked thoughtful.  “I will have to decide what is to become of them.  I do not know what to do with an army of clones.”  He averted his eyes in shame.  “I am truly sorry for what my people have done to you, to your ship, and to the Federation.  This was never what I intended.”

Tuvok cocked his head to one side.  “You were under V’tan’s influence for many years.  You are not responsible for what has happened.”

“I am the emperor.  I am responsible for everything that happens on Br’nai.”

Tuvok accepted the explanation, although he found illogical the proclivity of other species to take responsibility for large groups of people whose actions they could not possibly control.  “Please excuse me a moment, Emperor.”  Ch’a’fen nodded.  “Doctor, what is Commander Chakotay’s condition?”

The Doctor shook his head.  “Still no change.”

“Is that the man I found in the control room?” Ch’a’fen interjected.

“Yes,” said the Doctor.  “He used the neural interface to stop your army from attacking us.  Unfortunately, the interface was not designed for human physiology and the commander suffered severe neurological damage.  He may never recover.”

“I am sorry,” the emperor said.  “Perhaps my doctors can help.”

“We will accept any assistance you can offer,” said Tuvok.  “Would you like to accompany me to the ready room now?”

“Of course.”  As they exited sickbay, the emperor looked around.  The beds were filled with patients who had been injured in the battle, each being attended to by the doctor who had treated him and a short, plump woman with curly, blonde hair.  He looked back at the man he had found in M’hel’s lab, the one who had risked everything to save his people, who might have lost his own life but had averted a war, and Ch’a’fen felt another wave of shame pass through him.  His goal had been noble - to bring Br’nai into the Federation, to make their contributions known to everyone, to be part of a galaxy where peace and justice were held as the highest values.  He’d had the best intentions, but it had all gone so wrong.  He said as much to Tuvok as they entered the ready room.

“It is difficult to anticipate the outcome of one’s actions.  Good intentions often have little to do with results,” the Vulcan said as he handed the emperor a cup of tea.

“When we were young, it was so easy to be idealistic.  Do you know the history of my people, Mr. Tuvok?”

“I’m afraid I do not.”

“Over two hundred years ago, when my people first attempted to contact alien races, our efforts to reach out were met by a terrible enemy.  The Grake attempted to conquer my world, and we fought a vicious ten-year war with them.  Thousands of Br’nai lives were lost, but my people’s ingenuity and resilience allowed them to triumph over the Grake.  The great general, F’lai’fen, for whom I am named, became the first emperor to rule a united Br’nai.  His first act as emperor was to declare that Br’nai would never again have contact with outsiders.

“V’tan and I became friends as children, Mr. Tuvok.  We were like brothers - inseparable - and he took the role of the older one, who protected me and who I turned to for advice.”  Ch’a’fen’s expression became sad as he reflected on the friendship he had now lost.  “As we entered adulthood, we realized that Br’nai had stagnated without the cultural exchange and growth that comes from encounters with other races.  We began to read the old histories and seek knowledge of the galaxy beyond our planet.  That was around the time we met Ky’len.”

“Ky’len?”  Tuvok listened to the emperor’s story with interest.

“V’tan’s wife.  It was love at first sight with them, and she loved me like a brother.  She was the daughter of a prominent politician from the isolationist party.  Her father disowned her when she informed him of her marriage to V’tan.  Ky’len was a wonderful woman - smart, kind, generous.  She kept V’tan focused on justice and peace.  I think that she was his moral center.  Looking back, I realize how much he changed after her death.  I don’t think he would have manipulated us all in the same way if she had lived.”  Ch’a’fen trailed off, lost in memory.

“You were telling me of the history of your people, Your Highness.”

“Oh, yes.  Well, we knew M’hel back then, too, and V’tan insisted on bringing him into our group, although neither Ky’len nor I approved.  With his help, we managed to create an illegal long range communications array.  We used the underground tunnels as an operations base, back then.  That’s how I knew where M’hel’s lab was.  When we figured out how to monitor transmissions throughout the star system, we learned of the Federation and immediately set out to find a way to attract their attention.  

“We built a warp ship.  It wasn’t very large, but it worked.  Ky’len was the one who finally figured out the matter conversion rate.  She had a great mind.  We knew there was a Starfleet patrol ship that passed through our system, so we waited until it was nearby and launched our first warp flight.  There was a problem with the drive, though, and we were forced to send a distress call.  We were beamed aboard the Adelphi.”

“And the transporter killed V’tan’s wife,” supplied Tuvok, having the report provided by Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi.

“Yes.  V’tan was never the same after that.  I thought it was just grief that plagued him, but now I realize it was more than that.  He devoted himself tirelessly to my election, and I naively thought it was because he believed I would be a great leader for our people, but now I see that he intended to use me as a puppet all along.  V’tan was only after revenge, and he managed to manipulate us all into working for his ends.”

“Now that you have realized V’tan’s true nature, what will you do?”

“The most severe punishment I can mete out is to put him in prison for life.  We have no system for capital punishment on Br’nai.  But what concerns me more is how far his influence may have reached.  I have no idea how many people he manipulated over the years.  V’tan helped me create new laws and reorganize our government.  Everything he touched over the years may be corrupt now.”

“I imagine you will have to examine those systems as well as the individuals who work for you, to ensure that V’tan has not left any permanent damage behind.”

“Indeed.”  Ch’a’fen looked away from the Vulcan and gazed out the ready room window at the swirling purple gases of Br’nai.  Silently, he vowed to himself that from now on, he would be the leader he had always hoped to be for his people.

Chapter Text

23

The Hour of God

“In the middle of the journey of our life, I found myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.”
    -Dante Alighieri

Guilt was a well-practiced emotion with Kathryn Janeway, and old habits were hard to break.  She knew that remorse was the last thing Chakotay would want her to feel, and her inability to act in accordance with his wishes only made her feel worse.  After three days, his condition remained unchanged despite the EMH’s best efforts and all the experimental treatments he had devised, including attempting to use some of Seven’s nanoprobes to repair the neurological damage.  The emperor had asked Dr. R’lar to help the EMH find a cure as part of his penance for his involvement in M’hel’s plot.  The Br’nai doctor had readily agreed, and he and the EMH had been working round the clock ever since.  Janeway had visited sickbay twice to stare at Chakotay’s motionless form, but she found that she was only in the way.  

Ayala was fortunately well on the way to recovery and would be fine.  She’d seen him earlier that afternoon and thanked him for all he had done.  She knew from his eyes that he, too, was haunted by Chakotay’s condition and the question of whether he could have done something more to help his friend and former commanding officer.

Tuvok had assigned her to guest quarters - strange on a ship that used to be hers to command.  The bed was large and comfortable, but sleep eluded her.  She had managed to nap for a few hours here and there, but her rest was plagued by nightmares.  She dreamt that she was watching a fight between Chakotay and M’hel that ended with the evil doctor removing Chakotay’s brain.  She dreamt that she was back in the cell on Br’nai, and that when the guards brought Chakotay’s body back from a torture session, he was nothing but a bare skeleton.  She dreamt that Chakotay was screaming behind a locked door, but no matter what she did, she could not find a way to break the lock.  She awoke in a cold sweat, her heart pounding.  But still, she could not cry.  She supposed that all the years on Voyager had taught her so well how to hold back her emotions that she couldn’t help but keep them locked away now, even from herself.

She read.  Stories were the only thing that allowed her to escape from herself and from thoughts of the man who lay dying in sickbay.  She had finished La Vita Nuova quickly, and her memory of their trip to the Maquis base had prompted her to pick up another novel, one she knew a great deal about but had never read: Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables.  
    
“The infinite is.  It is there.  If the infinite didn’t have an ‘I’, then ‘I’ would be outside its limits; it would not be the infinite; in other words, it would not exist.  But it does.  Therefore there is an ‘I.’  The ‘I’ of the infinite is God.”

The dying man had pronounced his last words in a loud voice with mounting ecstasy, as if he could see someone.  When he had spoken, his eyes closed.  The effort had exhausted him.  It was clear that in one minute, he had lived the few hours that were left to him.  The words had come to him through He who is in death.  The supreme moment was arriving.

The bishop understood this, the moment was upon them.  It was as a priest that he had come; from extreme cold, he had passed through degrees to extreme emotion; he looked at the closed eyes, he took the old, wrinkled, icy hand, and bent down towards the dying man.

“This is the hour of God.  Don’t you think it would be regrettable if we had met in vain?”

The door chimed, startling her, and she looked up from her book.  “Come in.”  It was Tuvok.  “Tuvok, what can I do for you?  Can I get you some tea?”

“I am fine, thank you.  May I join you?”

“Please.”  Janeway put her book down on the coffee table and sat up in her chair.  Tuvok sat on the couch across from her.

“We have reestablished communication with Starfleet.”

“Oh?”

“It seems that Lieutenant Commander Kim managed to expose Ambassador V’tan’s telepathic manipulations.  Starfleet and the Federation Council are in the process of reexamining all of their decisions of the past several months.  Admiral Nechayev, Admiral Ross and Admiral Henry were all under the ambassador’s influence, along with several members of the Federation Council.”

Janeway whistled softly.  V’tan’s authority had extended even further than she had expected.  “How did Harry do it?”

Tuvok related the story of Kim’s break-in to V’tan’s apartment and the solution that Harry, Dr. Crusher, and Counselor Troi had devised to obstruct V’tan’s mind games.  “Mr. Kim is facing a formal inquiry, but it is probable that all charges against him will be dropped.”

“What about the charges against Chakotay and the others?”

“Chakotay, Seven, the Doctor, and Mr. Ayala will face a court martial.  However, it is likely that in view of this new evidence, all charges against them will be dropped as well.” 

Janeway sighed.  The small victory felt hollow.  Even a complete exoneration could not help Chakotay now. 

Tuvok studied her for a moment, and his tone and expression softened.  “Are you well, Kathryn?”

The sound of her name on her old friend’s lips went straight to the pit of her stomach, and it lurched.  She looked away from him.  “I’m fine.”

“‘Fine’ you may be, but ‘well,’ you are not.”  She did not reply.  “May I be of assistance?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you can.”

“Your distress results from Commander Chakotay’s illness.”  

She noted that it was a statement, not a question, and she looked back at Tuvok with a pained expression.  “Am I that obvious?”

“Over the years, I have seen you isolate yourself whenever you felt a tremendous burden of guilt.  Perhaps my saying this will not change your feelings, but you are not responsible for Chakotay’s condition.”

She clasped her hands in her lap and studied them.  “I know that,” she said softly.

“Then what troubles you?”

Janeway looked up at the Vulcan as his calm eyes studied her.  It would be so easy to tell him it was nothing or to push him away, but Tuvok had been her friend and her trusted advisor for many years, even before Chakotay had begun to fill that role.  He might not understand the subtleties of emotion, but he did know her.  “Chakotay and I have been close friends for a long time, since the early years on Voyager.  There was even a time when I thought we might become more than friends.”

“When you were stranded on New Earth together.”  Kathryn narrowed her eyes, stiffening, and nodded.  “I noted a tension between you and the commander when you returned from the planet,” Tuvok explained.  “It seemed like the logical explanation.”

Janeway sighed and continued, “Of course, our positions on the ship made it impossible for us to be anything more than friends.  We both understood that.  And then, when we returned home...”

“The commander had begun a romantic relationship with Seven of Nine.”

“Yes.  You know that we were in Paris together on the night of the bombings?  Chakotay took me to dinner, and we went for a walk on the Seine afterwards.”  Kathryn’s expression became wistful.  “I hadn’t felt so relaxed, so... safe - so much like myself - in a long time.  I thought that things were about to change between us, and for the first time since we met, I was ready for that to happen.”  She paused, emitting a sardonic chuckle.  “Then Paris was bombed, we were captured by the Br’nai, I resigned from Starfleet, and Chakotay became an outlaw.  Now...”  Her voice caught in her throat.   “He tried.  He tried so many times to tell me how he felt, to get me to tell him my feelings, but the time never seemed right and I always stopped him.   Now, it’s too late.”

Tuvok reached out and put a hand on her shoulder - a rare gesture for him - and she closed her eyes at the contact.  “Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  The commander may yet recover.”  He paused.  “Your guilt stems from the fact that you never allowed Chakotay to express his feelings?”

“Partially.  And that I never expressed my own.”

“But you have chosen to remain away from sickbay.”

“I know.  I feel guilty about that, too.  But I find that I’m just in the way.  And seeing him like that... just reminds me of everything that I will never have.  I have to accept that.  Somehow, I have to accept it.  But I can’t do it if he’s right in front of me.”

Tuvok removed his hand from her shoulder, studying her carefully.  “You may have to accept it someday, if the commander does not recover.  But it is illogical for you to attempt to resign yourself to a situation that does not currently exist.  If there is one thing I have learned from you over our many years of friendship, it is that having hope can often change the outcome of a situation, no matter how illogical it may seem.”  

Janeway considered this, realizing that Tuvok was right.  In her most despairing moments, it had been Chakotay who’d helped her rediscover hope when she thought she’d lost it.  He had pulled her out of depression and proven to her that there was still something worth believing in when all she saw was darkness.  He’d always been the one who had held on when she had let go.  She sat up straight and reached over to pat Tuvok’s knee, able to smile for the first time in two days.  “Thank you, old friend.  I needed your counsel.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.  “I am glad that I could be of assistance.”

After Tuvok left the room, Janeway tapped her comm badge.  “Janeway to Torres.”

“Torres here.”

“B’Elanna, when you have a moment, would you stop by my quarters?  There’s something I need your help with.”

“In light of the evidence, all charges against Lieutenant Commander Harry Kim have been dropped.  There will be no mention of this incident in your permanent record, Mr. Kim.  You are free to go.”  Admiral Phillipa Louvois tapped her gavel on the desk.  “This hearing is hereby concluded.”

Kim breathed a sigh of relief and stood, grateful for the ordeal to be over.  “Congratulations, Harry,” said a familiar female voice.

He whirled around to see Deanna Troi.  “Thank you, Counselor.  I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Riker came up behind his wife and spoke softly in her ear.  “Ready to go?”  She nodded, and Riker extended his hand to Kim.  “Well done, Commander.  I’m just sorry Jean-Luc got his hands on you before I did.”

Harry blushed.  “Well, you know where to find me, sir.”  A playful glint came into his eye.  “That is, if Commander Liara should ever resign.”

“First officer, huh?” Riker said with a laugh.  “You just can’t move up the ranks fast enough, can you?”

“Actually, Captain Riker, I’m happy right where I am.”  Harry shook hands with Riker and Troi and moved toward the door.

Captain Picard approached him, stopping him before he could exit the room.  “Well done, Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m sorry to cut your shore leave short, but I need you back aboard the Enterprise right away.”

“Is something wrong, sir?”

“Ambassador V’tan is being extradited back to Br’nai.  We’ve been assigned to transport him.”

Harry nodded and accompanied Picard to a transporter room.  He had been hoping to have a nice, relaxing dinner at home with his parents, finally getting the chance to unwind after the stress of the past several weeks.  But it would have to wait.  Duty called.

Carefully, Kathryn placed the final stone on the medicine wheel and glanced at B’Elanna.  “What do you think?”

“It looks good to me.”  Torres moved back, watching as Janeway tenderly smoothed Chakotay’s hair.  Her heart went out to her former captain and friend, and she stepped up behind her.  “He’ll find his way home.”  Janeway cleared her throat and B’Elanna was astonished to see tears in her eyes.  Tentatively, she reached out and squeezed Kathryn’s shoulder and was even more surprised when Janeway’s hand came up to squeeze hers.

“Well, I’m sure you need to be getting back to engineering,” Janeway said, abruptly pulling her hand away.

“I can stay for a while.  Other than the slipstream drive, repairs are almost finished.”  The damage to the slipstream drive had been extensive and would take longer to repair than the two weeks it would take Voyager to reach Earth at high warp.  “Besides, I think that Vorik secretly likes being in charge.”  Janeway gave a halfhearted smile at Torres’ attempt to cheer her, and then looked back down at Chakotay.  B’Elanna let another moment go by before she said softly, “He knew that you cared about him, you know.”

Janeway looked at Torres with piercing blue eyes.  “Did he?”

B’Elanna nodded, swallowing hard.  “We all knew you cared about us, in those years on Voyager.  Even though you had to be hard on us and you couldn’t show it, we all knew it was out of love.”  Janeway reached down and gripped Chakotay’s hand.  “Chakotay knew you better than any of us.  I can’t tell you how many times I went to him, angry over one of your decisions or something you had said, and he always put it in perspective for me.  Because he understood you.  He understands you.  He knows how you feel because he knows you.  Trust me.”

“No matter how I feel, it won’t bring him back.”

“He’s not gone, Adm...  Kathryn.  He’s going to find his way home to us.  To you.”  B’Elanna’s tone became fierce and her eyes blazed with determination as she looked at her friend’s closed eyes and still face.  “Besides, he’s waited a long time for you to come around.  There’s no way he’s gonna miss out now.”

At that moment, the Doctor emerged from his office in a great hurry.  “Excuse me.  I need to see my patient.”

Janeway looked at him sharply.  “Do you have news, Doctor?”

“Dr. R’lar has suggested a new treatment option.  His people have a unique device that repairs damaged neural pathways.  I believe that I have been able to adapt it for human physiology.”

Janeway hadn’t noticed at first, but R’lar had followed the EMH out of his office.  She suddenly found herself face to face with him for the first time since their initial meeting on Br’nai months before.  She had known that he was helping the Doctor look for a cure for Chakotay, had known that the emperor had asked him to do it, but knowing it and coming face to face with him were different things entirely.

“Ms. Janeway.”  R’lar gave her the traditional Br’nai bow of respect.  She did not move.  “Ms. Janeway, I can only hope that this cure will begin to atone for my actions towards your people.”

“How do we know this cure is safe?  Why should we trust you?”

“I assure you, I have no wish to cause your people any further harm.”

“You helped Dr. M’hel to capture me.  I’ve read the reports on Captain Riker’s away mission.  You purposefully attempted to keep his team from finding us in your prison.”

R’lar looked at the floor.  “The emperor has helped me to understand how wrong I was to follow Dr. M’hel.  M’hel made me believe - made us all believe - that what he was doing was for the greatness of Br’nai.  Now that I see he was working for his own ends, well, I’m ashamed of my behavior.  It wasn’t the way a scientist should act.”

Janeway put her hands on her hips, regarding the Br’nai doctor dubiously.  “We trusted you before and we were imprisoned and tortured.  Why should we trust you now?”

“I have only my word, and the word of Emperor Ch’a’fen.  I am not here to hurt your people further.  Commander Chakotay averted a war between our peoples.  I am grateful to him and I want to help.”

“Let him try,” B’Elanna pleaded.  

“I can assure you, I have inspected the Br’nai device down to the last detail,” said the EMH.  “I modified it myself.  As with any experimental treatment, there are no guarantees, but this is our best shot, Kathryn.  It might be our only shot.”

Letting out a long breath, Janeway dropped her hands down to her sides and stepped away from the biobed, allowing the EMH and Dr. R’lar to approach Chakotay.  B’Elanna moved to her side and reached down to hold her hand.  The gesture took Janeway by surprise, but she was grateful for the other woman’s support and gripped B’Elanna’s hand tightly.  At first, Janeway tried to follow the complex medical procedure as the two doctors operated, but her mind swam.  The world moved around her in a blur - doctors’ voices, swirls of color, urgent movement.  The air in sickbay suddenly seemed thick.  Her vice grip on B’Elanna’s hand and her view of Chakotay’s face were her only anchors as thoughts and emotions churned within her.  Please, she thought towards a god she did not believe in.  Please.  It felt like the procedure lasted several hours; in reality it only took only a little longer than twenty minutes.

“That should do it,” said Dr. R’lar.

The sentence brought Kathryn back to the present and she released B’Elanna’s hand, stepping towards the biobed.  “When will you know if the treatment has been successful?”

“On Br’nai patients, the effects are usually immediate,” said R’lar.

Kathryn held her breath, her hand finding Chakotay’s as the EMH ran a medical tricorder over him.  “Doctor?”

The EMH continued to scan for a moment longer, hoping for some change in the commander’s condition, yearning not to be the one to break the news to Janeway, wishing none of this had ever happened, praying for a miracle.  Finally, he looked up, closing his tricorder with a horrible finality.  “I’m sorry.  His condition is unchanged.  It didn’t work.”

It took a moment for the Doctor’s words to penetrate Janeway’s consciousness.  Their impact hit her all at once, and her knees buckled.  B’Elanna and the Doctor were instantly at her side, holding her up by the arms.  “No.  There must be something else you can do.  There must be another option.”

The EMH shook his head.  “I’m sorry.  There’s nothing more I can do.  We need a miracle.”

At the Doctor’s words, the tears that had eluded her for days suddenly came flooding down her cheeks.  This was not possible.  It couldn’t be.  It couldn’t end this way.  She felt B’Elanna’s arms go around her, supporting her, comforting her, and she was gripping B’Elanna’s shoulders as her body shook and tears rolled down her cheeks.  Then B’Elanna was crying, too, and the doctors backed away, leaving the two women to their grief.

Seven and Axum sat alone in the Borg cube’s makeshift conference room - one of the few places on the cube where they could have real privacy.  “We’re all going to get real quarters one of these days,” Axum had said as he led her into the room by the hand.  “Maybe if we’ve really beat back the Collective this time, I’ll finally have the chance to do a little remodeling.”

“The Br’nai defenses were extremely effective against the Collective,” Seven remarked, sitting down across from him.  “If I am allowed to continue my work, I will have to employ some of their techniques.”

Axum looked at her closely.  “Has there been any more news from Starfleet?”

“There has.  That is why I wished to speak to you.  Commander Tuvok has requested that I return to Earth with Voyager.  We are all facing a court martial.”

Axum stood and began to pace.  “For what?  Helping a friend in need?  Defending the Federation against the Borg and the Br’nai?”

“Commander Tuvok has assured me that we will most likely be exonerated.”

“Most likely?  Annika, I didn’t wait all these years to be with you only to have you ripped away from me and thrown in a Federation prison.”

She grabbed his hand as he passed by her chair again, stopping his pacing.  “I do not believe I will be imprisoned.  I must face the consequences of my actions, Axum.  I knew what I was doing when I stole the Hugh.  I knew it was illegal, but it was also the right thing to do.  Now that everyone knows the truth about the Br’nai, it is the right thing to do for me to go back and stand trial.”

Axum nodded slowly, bringing one hand up to caress her cheek.  “My Annika.  So brave.”  She looked away from him, uncomfortable at his praise.  “How is Chakotay?”

“There has been no change in his condition.”  Her voice wavered as she spoke, and Axum pulled her up out of the chair and into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair.  “I know you’re very close to him.”

She nodded against his chest.  “The uncertainty is difficult.  I am unsure whether to grieve his passing or hope for his recovery.”

Axum held her at arm’s length and looked into her eyes.  “As long as he’s alive, Annika, there’s always hope.  Always.  The fact that we found each other again proves that.”  She nodded, and he pulled her back into the safety of his embrace.  “If you and the others are found not guilty, I will take it as a positive sign and follow you to Earth to seek an alliance with the Federation.  Much of my crew has had their implants removed now.  Although our ship still appears Borg on the outside, we no longer do.”

Seven pulled away.  “That will help, Axum, but I cannot guarantee...”

“No one can guarantee anything.  I know that.  But I want to try.”

She smiled.  “I understand.”  He returned her smile, then pulled her towards him and found her mouth with his for a long, deep kiss.  “We leave tomorrow morning,” she said when they had broken the kiss.

“I am going to miss you.”

“And I you.”  He kissed her again and hugged her tightly.  “Axum?” she asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Will you accompany me to Mei’s memorial this afternoon?  I didn’t know her well, and I know you never met her, but I feel it would be right to honor her memory, after everything she did for Chakotay.”

“Of course I will.  I want to spend every moment I can with you today.  It could be a long time before we see each other again.”  

Seven nodded against him and wrapped her arms tighter around his torso, savoring the warmth of his embrace and his unique smell.  She, too, wanted to enjoy every moment they had together.  Once before, she had wasted their time, and she was determined never to do so again.

It had been Kathryn who suggested that they have a memorial service for Mei aboard Voyager.  She had spoken to the emperor about it, and he had not only agreed, but requested to be present himself.  As Voyager’s senior staff gathered in the mess hall, Janeway felt Neelix’s absence keenly.  He would have made trays of food for the occasion and made sure that everyone was comfortable.  She could almost hear his cheerful voice brightening everyone’s spirits in the midst of the sad occasion.  In her dark purple pants suit, Kathryn felt strange being the only one out of uniform, a civilian among Starfleet officers.

“We have gathered here today to commemorate the life of Mei,” said Tuvok.  “Many of us did not know her well, but we all recognize her sacrifice.  She gave her life to save hundreds of others, ours among them.  Now, Kathryn Janeway has asked to say a few words.”

Janeway cleared her throat and began, “Hundreds of years ago, Victor Hugo wrote, ‘There is a determined, though unseen, bravery that defends itself step by step in the darkness against the fatal invasions of necessity and dishonesty.  Noble and mysterious triumphs that no eye sees, and no fame rewards, and no flourish of triumph salutes. Life, misfortunes, isolation, abandonment, poverty, are battlefields that have their heroes; obscure heroes, sometimes greater than the illustrious heroes.’

“Mei was one of these heroes.  Although she was an orphan from a poor village who had nothing of her own, she showed extraordinary kindness to two strangers who were suffering.  She took her life into her hands when she helped me and Chakotay escape from Dr. M’hel’s prison.  She willingly left behind the only existence she’d ever known because she was doing what she believed was right.

“Mei died defending the Federation, an organization whose benefits she never even knew.  She died defending her own people from a vicious evil that lurked among them.  And she died defending each of us from the Br’nai army and the Borg Collective.”  Janeway’s voice caught in her throat then, and she had to swallow hard before continuing.  “I will always remember Mei - her kindness, her generosity and her bravery.  She was a true hero.”

Janeway stepped back into the group that had gathered, and Emperor Ch’a’fen stepped forward.  “I am sorry that I never knew Mei.  She died for Br’nai, and I will never forget her example.  I intend to bury her in the royal graveyard, with all the ritual and privilege one of my own children would enjoy.”  Ch’a’fen paused and cleared his throat.  “She saw the evil that was being done on our world, and she had the courage to stand up and fight against it.  She had more courage than I did.  Whenever I am again faced with evil, I will remember Mei, and I will follow her example.  She is the type of citizen that makes it an honor to be Emperor of Br’nai.  Please, join me in a glass of tirin in remembrance of Mei.”  The emperor had brought two bottles of the Br’nai spirit with him, and Tom helped him hand out glasses to everyone.  “To Mei,” the emperor said.  “Go in peace, always.”

“To Mei,” everyone murmured, raising their glasses.  

As the gathering broke off into smaller groups and quiet conversations, the emperor approached Janeway.  “I understand Dr. R’lar has been unsuccessful.”

“Yes,” she replied with a stony expression.  

“I want to tell you again how sorry I am that all this happened.  V’tan is being extradited back to Br’nai, and I intend to put him in prison for the rest of his life.  I know it won’t bring your commander back, but I thought you should know.”

“Thank you.”

“You know,” the emperor said with a wistful smile, “I think a Federation-Br’nai alliance could have flourished if it had been up to you and me.”

“Perhaps.”

“I have great admiration for you, Kathryn Janeway.  You are a true leader for your people.”  With that, Ch’a’fen bowed to her - something the emperor rarely did - and left her side.  His words had caught her off guard and she felt unexpected emotions rising in her chest.  She sipped the tirin and pushed them down.

“Kathryn?”  B’Elanna appeared at her right shoulder.  “Tom and I were hoping you could join us for dinner tonight.  Miral would love to see you, and now that repairs are completed, we finally get a little time off, and...  Well, we thought you’d like to be with family.”

Janeway paused, about to turn down the invitation, but suddenly changed her mind.  “That sounds wonderful.  Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself.  1900, our quarters.”

“Thank you, B’Elanna. I’ll be there.”

“More ham, Kathryn?” Tom offered, holding the serving platter out to her.

Janeway thought that Tom was enjoying his new found freedom of calling her by her first name entirely too much, but she made no mention of it as she replied, “No, thank you.  I’m stuffed.  I haven’t eaten this much since...”  She paused.  “I can’t remember the last time I ate this much.”  Tom and B’Elanna chuckled, and Miral, in her high chair, laughed along with them even though she had no idea what was funny.

“That was delicious, Tom,” B’Elanna said, putting her napkin on top of her plate.  

“Can’t take too much credit for it.  Just programmed the replicator.  This was a standard meal at the Paris house when I was growing up.  One of Dad’s favorites... when he was home.”

Janeway nodded.  “Oh, I can sympathize with that.  On those few nights when my dad was home for dinner, we always had to have one of his favorites.”

Miral banged her spoon on the tray of her highchair.  “Cookie!” she demanded.

“What do you say?” B’Elanna asked.

“Please!” Miral exclaimed, clanking her spoon again in delight.

“Okay.  One cookie, and then it’s bath time,” B’Elanna replied, handing her daughter a small treat.  

When Miral had devoured the cookie, Tom lifted her out of her chair.  “We were so glad you could join us tonight,” he said to Janeway as B’Elanna cleared the dishes.

“So am I.  It’s been nice to get my mind off of... everything.”

Tom nodded as he looked at his daughter.  “It’s time to get your bath ready, sweetie.”  

He was about to carry her into the bathroom when Janeway said, “I’ll take her while you get the water ready, Tom.”  

“Ooh,” Paris said to Miral, “you get some special time with Auntie Kathryn.  One, two, three...”  He whirled his daughter around and placed her in Janeway’s arms.

“Auntie Katrin!” Miral exclaimed with delight as she planted a sloppy kiss on Janeway’s cheek.  “Story?”

Kathryn smiled.  On the few occasions she had visited Tom and B’Elanna in their home, she had always read Miral a story.  “Okay, Miral.  We can read a story.”  They sat down on the couch and Miral handed her ‘auntie’ a simple picture book.  As Janeway began to read, Miral snuggled up to her, enthralled by the colorful pictures in the children’s book.  Looking down at the tiny, dark haired head nestled against her, Kathryn felt a pang of sadness for a life she would never have.

Tom emerged from the bathroom and smiled at the image of his daughter snuggled up to Janeway.  Although she had been something of a mother to all of them on Voyager, Tom had never really pictured Janeway as a maternal figure... until he had seen the admiral with his daughter for the first time.  She had held baby Miral and cooed and rocked her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  He hated to pry Miral away from her favorite auntie, especially now, when he suspected that Janeway was drawing as much comfort from the contact as his daughter, but he really had to get Miral to bed.  A two-year-old quarter-Klingon was no fun when she hadn’t had enough sleep.  “Ok, Miral.  Time for your bath.  Say goodnight to Auntie Kathryn.”

Miral pouted.  “One more story, Daddy?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.  It’s already past your bedtime.”

“We’ll read another story tomorrow night, Miral,” Janeway assured the little girl, stroking her hair.

“That’s right,” agreed Tom.  “Now say goodnight to your auntie.”

Miral threw her arms around Janeway’s neck, and Kathryn returned the hug, holding the little girl close.  “Goodnight, Auntie Katrin.”

“Goodnight, Miral.”

Tom carried the girl off to her bath and B’Elanna sat down beside Janeway.  “Thank you for Mei’s memorial service today.  What you said was beautiful.”

“She deserved it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the giggles from the next room, interwoven with Tom’s bath time instructions to his daughter.  “B’Elanna,” Janeway began, “today in sickbay, I’m sorry if I...”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Torres countered.  “We’re family, remember?  You taught us that.”

Janeway nodded slowly and opened her mouth to speak when her comm badge chirped.  “Doctor to Janeway.”

“Janeway here.”

“Please report to sickbay immediately.”
    

Chapter Text

24

The Things We Live For

“We can never lose the things we live for.  We may have to change their form, at times, if we’ve made an error, but the purpose remains the same, and the forms are ours to make.”
    -Ayn Rand

The Doctor stopped Janeway just inside the sickbay doors, grabbing her by the shoulders and not allowing her further into the room.  Her heart was pounding.  “Let me through,” she demanded.

“Just a moment, Kathryn,” the Doctor insisted, holding her arms firmly.

Janeway froze, looking closely at the Doctor’s grave expression.  Was Chakotay dead?  “Doctor?”  Her voice trembled.

“He’s regained consciousness.”  

Kathryn felt a wave of relief flood over her, and suddenly, the Doctor’s hands on her arms were all that held her up as her knees weakened.  “How?”

“I don’t know.  The treatment we attempted was highly experimental.  It’s possible that it just takes longer to work on humans than it does on the Br’nai.  But you need to understand that Chakotay suffered severe neurological damage.  I don’t yet know what the extent of it is, or how much of it is permanent.”

“What do you mean?”

“The commander is awake, but I haven’t spoken to him yet.  I don’t know how much of his memory is intact, or whether his speech, hearing, or other basic functions have been damaged.  I don’t even know if he’ll recognize you.”

Janeway swallowed hard.  “I understand.”

“Very well.”  The EMH released her arms and let her walk over to Chakotay’s biobed, following close behind.

The dark brown eyes that had been closed for days slowly opened as she approached, and Kathryn had never seen anything so beautiful.  As the Doctor began to run scans, she sought Chakotay’s hand.  He blinked several times, searching her face, and for a long moment she was afraid that he didn’t know her.  Then in a gravely, unused voice, he rasped, “Kathryn.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly.  Then, she smiled, a full, radiant smile.  “Yes.  Yes, that’s right, Chakotay.”  It was only when she saw the wet droplets falling onto his face and chest that she realized she was crying.

He looked up at her with vulnerable, earnest eyes.  “Don’t cry, Kathryn.  I’m all right.  Everything’s going to be all right.”  She was crying and laughing as she lay her head down on his torso, listening to the steady thump of his heart as his chest rose and fell beneath her.

The Doctor allowed his former captain to remain there, cradling Chakotay’s body, and silently thanked whatever gods might be listening for bringing the commander back. 

Several moments later, when Chakotay had fallen back to sleep, Janeway extricated herself from him, not letting go of his hand.  “What’s his condition, Doctor?”

“He’s stable, but it’s going to take some time for his neural pathways to rebuild.  He’ll need several more sessions of the Br’nai neurotherapy.  It may take some time before he can do basic things on his own again.”

“I see.   I’m at your disposal, Doctor, for anything I can do to help.”  

“I’m sure you’ll be able to help a great deal, just by being here.”

Janeway nodded.  “I’ll have Tuvok request that Starfleet Command delay the court martial until Chakotay has recovered.”

“An excellent idea.”  The Doctor looked at her for a moment.  “Now, I’d suggest that you get some rest.  I doubt you’ve had much sleep recently.”

“No,” she replied with a chuckle.  “No, I haven’t.  Call me if... if he needs me.”

“I will.”

As Kathryn left sickbay, she knew she had one stop to make before returning to her quarters.  She rang Tom and B’Elanna’s bell.  Tom answered the door, a worried expression on his face.  His concern grew when he saw Janeway’s tear-streaked cheeks.  “What happened?  Is he...”

“He’s awake, Tom.  He’s going to be okay.”

B’Elanna had come up behind Tom and overheard.  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

“I know,” Kathryn replied, laughing.  “I know.”  She felt both Tom’s and B’Elanna’s arms go around her and all three of them stood there for a long time, their bodies shaking with relief, not knowing whether they were laughing or crying.

The next morning, Voyager set course for Earth.  The longer journey forced upon them by the damaged slipstream drive gave Chakotay time to recover before his court martial.  Davidson allowed the EMH to retain Chakotay as his personal patient since he was the one who had worked with R’lar to develop the treatment, and Chakotay spent several days in sickbay under the Doctor’s watchful eye.

Janeway was a frequent visitor.  She came twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, and usually stayed for at least a couple of hours.  At first, when Chakotay still had trouble carrying on long conversations and had little control over his motor functions, she read to him or sat by his bed and held his hand while he slept.  As his condition improved, they were able to discuss what had happened during the battle and make plans for his defense at the court martial.  As if by tacit agreement, they didn’t speak of their relationship.  They both knew the time would come to talk of it, but it wouldn’t be in sickbay.

On the seventh day, in the afternoon, Chakotay was sitting up on his biobed playing cards with Janeway when the EMH approached them.  “Well, Commander, I’ve just analyzed today’s scans, and you’re well enough to leave sickbay.  Commander Tuvok has assigned you guest quarters on the same deck as Kathryn’s.”

Janeway beamed.  “That’s wonderful news, Doctor.”  She enfolded him in an unexpected embrace, and the hologram was touched by the gesture.  “Thank you.”

“All in a day’s work,” he quipped as she released him.  “I’ll expect you back here once a day so I can make sure everything’s progressing as planned,” he said to Chakotay.  Then he handed the commander a black cane.  “Your motor functions have improved a great deal, but I think you should keep this for a while.  I don’t want you to fall and break something.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”  Chakotay eased himself off the biobed.  He leaned on the cane heavily, but was able to take several shaky steps towards the door.  Kathryn took his free arm, supporting him.

“Don’t forget to eat three meals a day and get lots of rest!” the Doctor called after them.

Janeway looked up at Chakotay with a smile.  “He never changes, does he?”

“No.  Isn’t it nice to know that there are some things that stay the same?”  

She walked him to his quarters and got him settled on the couch, busying herself around the room.  “Are you hungry?” she asked, walking over to the replicator.  “Can I get you anything?”

He looked over the back of the couch, running his dark eyes over her from head to toe.  “Just you.”

She blushed and looked away.  “You must be tired.  I should let you get some rest.”

“Please stay, Kathryn.”  She met his gaze with a soft smile and walked towards the couch.  He patted the spot beside him.  “Sit with me.”

She acquiesced, and for a moment, they looked at each other in silence until Chakotay gently lifted his hand to caress her cheek.  He guided her face towards his and kissed her, the gentle meeting of their lips infused with a quiet joy.  She sighed contentedly as he sat back on the couch and put his arm around her, pulling her close to him.  Kathryn relaxed into his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart, and it wasn’t long before they were both fast asleep.

They awoke a few hours later and had a quiet meal.  This simple action was exhausting for Chakotay, and Kathryn saw his eyelids beginning to droop during their after-dinner conversation.  “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she said.

“But it’s so early.  And besides, I’m not... sleepy,” he argued, yawning.  

She laughed.  “Come on, Chakotay.  I’ll tuck you in.”

She helped him stand from the dinner table and walk into his bedroom.  He disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared a few minutes later in boxer shorts and a t-shirt.  Kathryn had pulled back the sheets for him, and he lay down.  She pulled the covers up around his chin and was about to leave the room, thinking he had already fallen asleep, when he grabbed her wrist.  “Don’t go.”  His dark eyes peered out from under the covers.

She leaned down and kissed his cheek.  “Okay.  Give me a minute.”  She replicated some cotton pajamas and changed into them before slipping under the covers beside him.  She pressed herself against his back, wrapping her arm around his chest.  She thought from the sound of his steady breathing that he was asleep, but she must have woken him because his arm quickly covered hers and held her hand, pinning her against him as if he would never let go.

Over the next several days, Kathryn and Chakotay spent much of their time together, sharing meals, books, and many conversations.  The Doctor was pleased with the progression of Chakotay’s treatment, and after a few days, he was able to walk around his quarters without the cane, although he still used it to walk to sickbay.  Tom, B’Elanna, Seven, and Ayala were frequent visitors who often joined Janeway and Chakotay for a cup of tea or a meal in the mess hall.  Tuvok had spoken to Starfleet Command, and a date for the court martial had been set.  Janeway and Chakotay discussed the trial at length, but were unwilling or unable to discuss their future beyond that.  They seemed to feel that they could make no plans until Chakotay’s absolution was certain.

Their two weeks of respite were almost over; Voyager was due to arrive at Earth the following morning.  They had just finished a quiet dinner alone and were sitting on the couch leaning against one another when Kathryn said, “Chakotay, we should talk.”

“Okay.”

She pulled away from him and sat up to face him.  She opened her mouth to speak and then stopped, chuckling ruefully at herself.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

He reached out and took her hand, running his thumb over the back of it, soothing her.  “Just tell me how you feel, Kathryn.”

She turned her head away from him, covering her mouth with her hand.  “How I feel.  That’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

She looked back at him, her eyes, full of emotion, boring into his.  “During that battle, when I thought we were all about to die, I realized that you were right about something.  I regretted not telling you how I feel, and I regretted not letting you tell me.  Even though we both know the truth, it’s different to say it out loud.”  She took a deep breath.  “I love you, Chakotay.”

A small smile had formed on his face as she spoke - a soft, grateful expression of acceptance.  “I love you, Kathryn.”

She returned the smile and closed her eyes, her own acceptance of his words.  Then she continued, “But as for us being together...  Who knows what our future holds?  I think you’ll be exonerated, but it’s not a given.  What if you end up in prison?  Now that I’m not in Starfleet, I have no idea what I’m going to do, what kind of job I’ll get or where I’ll be.  And there’s still the issue of children.  I know that’s something you want, but I...”

Chakotay silenced her, pressing two fingers against her lips.  “Shhh.”  He leaned forward and kissed her.  “The future is never certain.  Whether we’re Starfleet officers or civilians with other jobs, whether I’m found guilty or innocent, whether we can have a biological child or not, it doesn’t matter.  There is one thing that I’m certain of, Kathryn Janeway, and that is that whatever life throws at us, I want to face it together, you and me.”

A tear rolled down Janeway’s cheek as he gathered her in his arms, and they held each other tightly.  “Oh, Chakotay,” she breathed, “so do I.”

Jean-Luc Picard, Harry Kim, and a full security detail materialized on Br’nai, prepared to transfer their prisoner directly to the emperor himself.  Ch’a’fen and several members of his Royal Guard stood waiting for them.  The emperor did not look at V’tan, but acknowledged Picard instead.  “Captain Picard, I accept your transfer of the prisoner.  You are absolved of your responsibility.”  The emperor paused and turned to Harry.  “Mr. Kim, I understand that you are responsible for the capture of this individual.”

“Not only me, Your Majesty.”

“Still, you have my everlasting gratitude.  If you should ever require anything of the Br’nai, all you need to do is ask and it will be yours.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Harry replied with a bow.

“My guards and I will take over from here.”

“Good luck to you, Emperor Ch’a’fen,” Picard said.  “I hope that next time we meet it will be under better circumstances.”

“As do I, Captain.  I plan to do everything within my power to repair the alliance between Br’nai and the Federation.”

Picard nodded curtly and tapped his comm badge.  “Picard to Enterprise.  Six to beam up.”

As the Starfleet officers dematerialized, the emperor made a sharp gesture to R’fet with his hand.  The guards restrained V’tan and began to escort him towards his cell.  Ch’a’fen walked beside the cuffed man, not looking at him, staring straight ahead.  It was V’tan who finally spoke.  “You’re not really going through with this, are you, Fen?”

“Remain silent,” the emperor ordered.  “And do not presume to call me by that name.”

“I have always called you by that name, my friend.”

“Your emperor told you not to speak!  Obey or you will be silenced by force.”

V’tan shut his mouth.  He had never seen Ch’a’fen behave this way before; for the first time in his life, he was not seeking V’tan’s approval and did not seem afraid.  V’tan tried to reach out and touch the emperor’s mind, but the fog of sedation still hung heavily over his thoughts.  He would have to wait until the effects of the stasis had worn off.  

They walked through the prison, past the cells that held common criminals, until they reached a lift.  Ch’a’fen entered a security code and the lift doors slid open.  “R’fet, come with me,” the emperor ordered.  The other guards held their position while R’fet, V’tan, and the emperor entered the lift.  Ch’a’fen keyed in another code and the lift began to plummet downwards, deep into the ground.  

When the motion stopped, the doors opened into a long stone corridor that led to another door.  The emperor entered a third security code and held his face up to a panel that performed a retinal scan.  He noticed V’tan watching him.  “The security codes will change daily, and only the combination of the right code and my retinal scan will open this door.  Memorizing the codes won’t help you.”  V’tan did not reply.  The door slid open to reveal a small, white room which contained a simple cot and a small lavatory.

“Release his bindings, R’fet,” ordered the emperor, “and wait for me outside.”  The guard obeyed and the cell door closed behind him, leaving the two men alone, face to face.  “V’tan, I hereby sentence you to life in prison with no possibility of parole.  The charges are high treason and conspiracy to commit mass murder.”

V’tan concentrated hard, trying to reach out and touch Fen’s mind, but he was unable to sense him.  In fact, he realized, he was unable to sense anything.    

“If you’re trying to use your mind control techniques, you can forget about it.  This chamber has been designed to prevent you from controlling anyone.  Ever.  Again.”

V’tan looked at the white walls in appreciation of the skill it must have taken to create them.  “Impressive,” he acknowledged, walking slowly around the cell.  “But M’hel would never approve of this.”

“M’hel is dead.  Dr. R’lar designed this prison for you.”

“Using M’hel’s research, no doubt.  R’lar always was willing to follow whoever was handing out the paychecks.  Tell me, Fen, what happened?”  V’tan sat down on the cot and looked up at his old friend with a mocking smile.

“I told you not to call me that!” the emperor roared.

Taken aback by the outburst, V’tan corrected himself, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone.  “All right, my Emperor, what happened?”

“What happened?  What happened?!  You’ve been manipulating me, V’tan.  For years.  You told me what we were doing was for the good of Br’nai, but that was a lie.  You told me that you wanted to see me elected to help our people, but all you were after was revenge against the Federation.  You only claimed to be my friend so you could manipulate me.  You deceived me time and time again, and then you controlled my mind to prevent me from seeing it.  You turned me into your puppet, V’tan.”  Ch’a’fen drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest.  “I am the Emperor of Br’nai.  I will be no one’s puppet.”

V’tan burst out laughing.  “Oh, you poor boy.  Do you really think you’re so important?  Do you really have the audacity to take this all so personally?  We agreed on our goals long ago.  We agreed we would use whatever means necessary to accomplish them.  You were a means to an end, so was I.”

“Our goal was to bring an era of peace and cooperation to Br’nai, to make our planet part of the Federation, not to start a war with them.”

V’tan shrugged.  “Another means to an end.”

No longer able to contain his anger, Ch’a’fen rushed at his former friend, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pulling him off the bed.  “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?  Starting a war is no way to usher in an era of peace and justice!  Why did you do it, V’tan?  Why?”  Ch’a’fen realized he was shaking V’tan hard, and he released him and backed away.

A dangerous fire glinted in V’tan’s eyes.  “The Federation, Fen?  The vaunted Federation?  The guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy?  The self-appointed police of the Alpha Quadrant?  These are the same people who ignored our civilization for hundreds of years, no matter how advanced our technology became, simply because we chose not to pursue warp travel.  When we asked for their help to fight our oppressors, they denied us.  They think they’re so enlightened, but they’re no better than the rest of us.  They didn’t even know that their technology was lethal to a pregnant woman.  They killed Ky’len, Ch’a’fen.  They killed her!”

“They had no way of knowing that pregnant Br’nai women couldn’t use their transporter.  It was an honest mistake.”

“An honest mistake?  No.  Mistakes are never honest, Fen.  They had to pay for what they had done.  I used whatever means were at my disposal - you, their admirals, their council members, M’hel.  It didn’t matter who as long as they all suffered in the end, as long as they finally understood what it meant to lose everything that ever mattered!  Someone had to pay, Ch’a’fen!  I swore one day I would make them pay through the nose.  They took an innocent life - the sweetest, most innocent life there ever was - my Ky’len, our child - everything!  They took everything from me.  They deserve to suffer for what they did!”  

Ch’a’fen stood very still, looking at a man he had known all his life as if for the first time.  “I can’t believe I ever trusted you,” he said quietly, stepping towards the door.  “You will spend the rest of your life in this cell while I attempt to undo the damage you have done.”  He paused.  “I’m sorry that Ky’len died, V’tan, but it’s not the Federation’s fault.  Some things just... happen.  Ky’len never would have wanted you to seek revenge for her death.  She would have been ashamed of the violent, manipulative man you have become.  You have dishonored her memory.”  Ch’a’fen took one last, long look at the man who had been his closest friend for over fifty years.  “Goodbye, V’tan.”

V’tan was shaking with rage as Ch’a’fen turned and exited the cell, the door closing behind him.  White walls.  A white cot.  This was all he would see for the rest of his days.  He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.  He would find a way out of this room, if only in his own mind.  He lay down on the cot and closed his eyes, summoning the image of a laughing face, sparkling green eyes and long, flowing blonde hair.

The court martial of Chakotay, Seven of Nine, Mike Ayala, and Voyager’s EMH had been a necessary formality.  But as the full extent of the evidence explaining their actions came to light, it seemed more and more clear that the Judge Advocate General would rule in their favor.  Closing arguments had been made, and the court reassembled to hear the final verdict.  The four accused sat at a long table.  Seven wore one of her usual tight-fitting suits; the other three appeared in uniform.  Their counsel sat beside them.  Janeway, clad in a simple maroon dress, sat directly behind Chakotay.  Tom, B’Elanna and Tuvok were beside her.

Judge Advocate General Phillipa Louvois stood at the front of the courtroom.  “It is the ruling of this court that all charges against Commander Chakotay, Seven of Nine, Lieutenant Michael Ayala and the Emergency Medical Holographic Doctor will be dropped.  It is the judgment of this court that the orders disobeyed were issued by a commanding officer who was at the time under an alien influence, and that the actions of the aforementioned individuals were taken in the best interest of Starfleet and the Federation.”  Louvois tapped her gavel once.  “Thank you all.  This court martial is hereby adjourned.”

For a moment, the room was silent and no one moved.  Then, Tom Paris stood and began to clap loudly.  Soon, others in the gallery joined him, applauding and cheering.  Kathryn sat very still, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.  Chakotay turned around and met her eyes, and as they held each other’s gaze everyone else in the room seemed to disappear.  

The moment was broken when Tom Paris pulled Janeway up out of her chair into a big bear hug.  “We did it!” he said happily.  “You did it.”

“No, Tom,” she corrected him, pulling away, “we did it.”  Chaos erupted as the four exonerated prisoners stood and tried to exit the courtroom.   Janeway squeezed Tom’s arm and made a beeline for the courtroom floor.  She hugged Seven first, then the Doctor and Mike.  Then Chakotay was standing in front of her, smiling from ear to ear.  She took his face in her hands and kissed him full on the mouth.  

She heard a click and broke the kiss abruptly, realizing that the moment had just been captured by a reporter.  “Ms. Janeway, how do you feel right now?” the reporter asked her, shoving a recording device in her face.

She threw her head back and laughed, unwilling to let even the most obnoxious reporter spoil this moment.  “Do you really have to ask?” she replied.  Chakotay grabbed his cane, and she took his free arm, steering him away from the reporters and the hullaballoo.  “Come on,” she said, tightening her grip on his bicep, “let’s go home.”

The timer beeped and Seven of Nine deactivated it, pulling her dinner out of the oven.   Tonight’s meal was simple - a single serving casserole made with rice, chicken, corn and peppers.  A replicator might be more efficient, but she enjoyed the process of creating food.  There was something satisfying about seeing the immediate results of her work and then being able to benefit from them.  Just as she was about to sit down and eat, the doorbell rang.

She wasn’t expecting any visitors, and she wondered who would be coming by at this hour.  Perhaps Naomi had come over to ask for assistance with her homework.  When she saw the image on the security monitor, her heart nearly stopped.  Slowly, she reached out and opened the door.  “Axum.”

Without saying a word, he stepped inside, sweeping her up in his arms and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.  Running his hands through her hair, he kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her neck.  “Annika, my darling Annika,” he whispered.

She drew his face to hers for another kiss before breaking away.  “Please, come in.”  She took his hand and led him into her home.  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know.  I received your communique about the court martial - it’s great news - and I thought about calling before I came, but I wanted to surprise you.  You are happy to see me, aren’t you?”  They reached the living room and he pulled her into his arms again, waiting anxiously for her reply.

“Yes.  I am very happy to see you.”  He pulled her against him for another passionate kiss, and Seven shivered with the intensity of her body’s response to his.  She struggled to pull away.

“What is it?”

“How did you get here?  What has happened?  Have you spoken to Starfleet?”  It had been three days since her court martial and she had not expected to hear from Axum so soon, let alone find him standing in her living room.

He chuckled and led her to the couch, pulling her down beside him.  “I spoke to Admiral Paris via subspace yesterday.  He’s arranged a meeting for me with Starfleet Command tomorrow.  He couldn’t make any guarantees, but he felt that the possibilities for an alliance between us were very favorable.”

“That’s wonderful news, Axum!”

“We modified one of the shuttles for transwarp, and Korok and I arrived today.  We thought it best not to bring a Borg cube into orbit around Earth.”

“A prudent course of action.”

“Korok is in the shuttle, but I couldn’t wait to see you again, Annika.”

She blushed, looking away.  “I am glad you came.”  She paused, glancing at him shyly.  “I just made dinner.  It is only one serving, but I am willing to share.”

“Can it wait?” Axum asked, inching closer to her.  “I’m not that interested in dinner at the moment.”  He lowered his body over hers as she sank into the cushions, and the casserole was quickly forgotten.

“In the aftermath of the recent extradition of Ambassador V’tan of Br’nai, several Federation Council resolutions from the past few months have been revoked,” said Dan Fowler, “including the recent Exploration Equality Bill.  The Council decisions were overturned after it was revealed that several Council members were being brainwashed by Ambassador V’tan.”  Fowler turned to Yadra.  “Disturbing news, don’t you think?”

“Yes, this has been quite an eye-opener to citizens all over the Federation, to discover that their representatives were so easily manipulated.  I understand that the Federation is looking into how they can ramp up security to prevent this sort of thing from happening again.”

Janeway sighed and snuggled closer to Chakotay.  They sat on the couch at her mother’s home in Indiana, watching the day’s news vids.  Gretchen had invited them to stay for a few days after the court martial so that Chakotay could complete his recovery in peace and quiet.  Both he and Kathryn had been eager for a few days away from the hustle and bustle of San Francisco and the prying eyes of reporters, and Chakotay had instantly taken to the Indiana farm.  

“You know, we can do our best to secure against every evil,” she said, “but we’ll never be able to do it.  It was our concern for security that got us into this mess in the first place, in a way.”

He nodded in agreement.  “Everyone was so worried about security after the Paris bombings that they allowed the Federation Council to take more and more power, giving V’tan more influence over everything.”

“At least we were finally able to prove that he was the one who orchestrated the bombings in the first place.”  With Ch’a’fen’s help, they had finally been able to trace the money paid to Piva Ondarra back to V’tan.  It seemed that he had planned the attack in order to prompt the Council to pass the Emergency Powers Rule as well as to put the Federation in need of Br’nai technology.  Geordi LaForge had proven the technology to be booby trapped.  If Starfleet had installed it aboard all their ships, the Br’nai could have gained total control of the fleet at any time.  Kathryn shivered just thinking about it, and Chakotay pulled her closer, nuzzling her hair.

“Federation Council member Thelos of Andoria was the most affected by Ambassador V’tan’s manipulations,” Fowler continued as the screen showed Thelos’ picture.  “He has been moved to a secure medical facility for rehabilitation.  The Grazerite Councilman Koresh-Inya and Councilwoman Jalay of Betazed were among the others affected by the ambassador’s mind control.”

“In other Federation Council news,” added Yadra, “now that the Council’s Emergency Powers Rule has been disbanded, elections will be held for a new Federation President.  The leading candidate in the upcoming elections is Councilman G’tok of Qo’noS.”

“And finally,” Fowler added, “we have received word this morning that Councilwoman Lilith Baines of Earth has disappeared.  Councilwoman Baines was last seen on the morning after Ambassador V’tan’s arrest.  Is the timing of her disappearance a mere coincidence?  We’ll speak to one of Baines’ former aides in just a moment.  I’m Dan Fowler.”

“I’m Yadra.”

“And this is the Federation News Service.”

As the FNS theme music played, Janeway deactivated the monitor, looking up at Chakotay with concern.  “You’re worried about Lilith Baines,” he observed.

“Why would she disappear like that?  That woman has it in for me, Chakotay.  She hates me, although I don’t know what I ever did to her.”

“Maybe she knew something about the Br’nai and V’tan managed to get rid of her.”  He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, soothing her.  “I don’t know.  I’m sure Starfleet will look into it.”

She gave him a wry glance.  “And we know how effective their investigations have been recently.”

“I don’t see what we can do about it, Kathryn.  I don’t think I’m ready to go galavanting around the galaxy looking for Lilith Baines.  I had hoped we might have a little time together before we run off to save the quadrant again.”  His eyes sparkled as he succeeded in his mission of making her smile.

“I think a little time together sounds wonderful.  In fact, I have an idea about that, when you’re fully recovered.”

“Really?  Do tell.”

The glint in her eyes was unmistakably mischievous as she said, “Nope.  It’s a surprise.”

He laughed.  “Okay.  Well, I have good news for you.”

“What?”

“The Doctor told me this morning that I can recycle the cane.  I don’t need it anymore.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.  “It’s about time.”

He had just begun to deepen the kiss when Gretchen’s voice called from the next room.  “I have caramel brownies in here if you’re interested, and fresh coffee!”

Kathryn was immediately on her feet, extending her hand to pull Chakotay off the couch.  “Coffee?  Come on!”  Laughing, they stumbled into the kitchen where Gretchen was waiting for them.

The real Sandrine’s, in Marseilles, on this particular night was filled with the sounds of raucous laughter.  “Just one more game, Kathryn,” Tom Paris pleaded.  “I thought we said best three out of five.”

“That was three, Paris,” Chakotay said from his seat at the bar.  “She beat you every time.”

“You’re not gonna win, Tom,” Ayala warned.  “You need to face facts and move on.”

Paris sighed and handed his cue over to Mike.  “I guess you’re right.  Besides, I need a drink.”

Janeway handed her own cue off and went to join Chakotay at the bar.  He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear, “By the way, you can borrow my ‘stick’ any time.”

She laughed and swatted his arm.  “We’re in public, Commander.”

He gave her his most innocent expression.  “No one heard me.”

Tom Paris cleared his throat loudly and they both snapped their heads to look at him.  “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he said good-naturedly.  “Besides, I’ve predicted this for years.”  He gestured to the two of them.

“Have you really, Mr. Paris?” Janeway asked, placing one hand on her hip while keeping the other wrapped around Chakotay’s shoulders.

“Um, what I mean to say is...”  He floundered under Janeway’s glare as B’Elanna came up behind him.

“Digging yourself into a hole again, are you, honey?”

He laughed.  “Maybe just a little.”

“What I’m sure my husband meant to say is that we’re very happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, B’Elanna,” Kathryn replied.

“Chakotay, you’re one lucky son of a bitch,” said Paris, earning a glower from his wife.

“You better watch yourself, flyboy, or you’ll find yourself sleeping on the couch tonight,” Torres warned.

Before Tom could manage a witty reply, the door to Sandrine’s burst open and in rushed Harry Kim.  “Harry!” Tom exclaimed, hugging his friend.  “When did you get back?”

“We just made orbit,” Kim replied, breathless.  “Captain Picard granted me leave for tonight.  I just ran all the way from the transport station.”    

“Why didn’t you just have the Enterprise beam you directly here?” Tom asked.

“Oh yeah.  I didn’t think of that.”  Harry looked thoughtful as everyone around him burst out laughing.

In short order, Tuvok, the Doctor, Seven, and Axum had joined the gathering.  The room was filled with merriment as Janeway beat Tom at yet another game of pool, B’Elanna challenged Harry to drink a cup of blood wine with her, and the Doctor demonstrated his extensive knowledge of opera for Axum.

The party was well underway when they heard a loud knock at the door, and everyone exchanged confused glances.  “Who would be knocking?” Tom asked.  “It’s a restaurant.”

“I don’t know,” said Chakotay.  “Come in!”

The door opened, and everyone gasped.  “Hello, everyone!  Am I late for the party?”

“Neelix!” Tom exclaimed, rushing forward to hug the Talaxian.  “How... when... what... how did you get here?”

“Mr. Axum over there arranged for one of his Borg ships to pick us up and transport us here through one of their transwarp conduits.”

In the corner, Axum was grinning from ear to ear as everyone turned to look at him.  He shrugged.  “I didn’t think that your party would be complete without Neelix.”

Seven felt her eyes misting with tears, and she kissed her boyfriend’s cheek in gratitude.  “Thank you.”

Neelix stepped aside to reveal Dexa and Brax, who held a baby in his arms.  “You all know my wife, Dexa, and Brax, and this,” Neelix took the baby from Brax’s arms, “is our daughter, Alixia.”

Everyone took turns hugging Neelix and was anxious to meet his daughter.  Even Tuvok congratulated the Talaxian family and told Neelix it was good to see him.  Neelix replied, “It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Vulcan.  How’s that dancing coming along?”

From the corner of the bar, Kathryn Janeway watched the scene unfold before her as she sipped her wine.  Tuvok, Harry and the Doctor looked on as Ayala and Chakotay played a game of pool.  Tom and B’Elanna were in the midst of an animated conversation with Neelix and Brax while Seven and Axum cooed over Alixia, who rested peacefully in Dexa’s arms.  As her eyes surveyed each face before her, Kathryn saw the previous nine years flash before her eyes and felt an intense gratitude at the presence of these people in her life.  As she wiped a tear from her cheek, she felt a strong arm encircle her shoulders.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Chakotay whispered.

She looked up at him with a smile and leaned into his chest.  “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

He pulled her close and planted a kiss in her hair, looking at her seriously.  “You know, we may never have a child of our own, but this is our family, Kathryn, and I’d say we’re pretty damn lucky to have them.”

“Yes.  Yes, we are.”  She turned her face to his and their lips met in a sweet, simple kiss.  Then they held each other close, filled with gratitude and pride, and reveled in each other’s warmth as they watched their family celebrate together.

Chapter Text

EPILOGUE

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
    -Pablo Neruda

The ocean crashed against the shore in white capped swells as rays of sun glistened on the golden sand.  Waves rolled in and out, lapping at the coast, and a seagull flew overhead, dipping into the water to capture a morsel of food for dinner.  High above the water on a rocky cliff stood a lone house.  The home’s design was simple, and its rooms overlooked the ocean through large windows.

On the deck of the house, leaning against a white railing, stood Kathryn Janeway.  The salty ocean breeze blew her wet hair away from her face, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh aroma.  The sun shone down on her skin, warming her as she pulled her plush, white robe tighter around her body.  She gazed out over the vast water, listening to the consistent rhythm of the waves, picturing the forces that caused the changing of the tide.

Suddenly, two strong arms appeared on either side of hers, and she smelled a familiar musk and felt a tantalizing kiss on her neck.  “Come back to bed,” a masculine voice rumbled in her ear.

Her soft chuckle became a moan as his mouth continued its ministrations on her neck.  “Don’t you think we should get dressed?”

“Why?” he murmured between kisses.  “I have everything I need right here.  And I can think of a lot more fun things to do without our clothes on.”

She moaned again as he pressed his burgeoning erection into her buttocks, feeling his hardness through the soft material of their robes.  “You’re insatiable.”

“Can you blame me?  I’ve waited a long time for this.”  He leaned forward and captured her lips with his.  Their tongues danced as they savored the taste of each other’s mouths until they broke apart for air.

Kathryn settled against Chakotay’s chest and looked out at the ocean as his arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace.  “What do you see?” he asked.

“The Earth turning.  The effects of the moon’s gravitational pull.  The tide changing.”  She smiled.  “A combination of hydrogen and oxygen atoms that covers approximately eighty percent of the globe we call home.”  She paused, feeling the vibration of his chest as he chuckled.  “You?”

“The future I’ve always dreamed of with the woman I love.”

She groaned.  “You’re hopeless, Chakotay.”

“A hopeless romantic.  I admit it.  But it’s one of the things you love about me.”

She laughed and they lapsed into a long silence, allowing the waves and the wind to murmur and hum.  Finally, Kathryn said, “Starfleet offered to reinstate my commission.”

Chakotay broke the embrace and moved next to her.  Leaning against the deck railing with one arm, he watched her closely.  “Are you going to accept?”

“I haven’t decided yet.  I wanted to talk to you first.”

“You know I’ll support you whatever you choose, Kathryn.”

“Apparently, Emperor Ch’a’fen has requested me as a special liaison between Br’nai and the Federation.  He wants me to help him rebuild our alliance, and serve as an external advisor as he tries to undo the damage that V’tan did to his world.”

“I see.  And how do you feel about that?”

She turned to look out at the waves, leaning on the rail with both elbows.  “Part of me wants to stay as far away from Br’nai as possible.”

“They took a lot from you.”

“From us,” she corrected.

He rubbed her back gently.  “And the other part of you knows you can help Ch’a’fen.  He was a pawn in V’tan’s game; he wasn’t responsible for what happened.  If he was able to rule with his own mind, and you were there to help him...”

“We could have a truly meaningful alliance,” she finished.  “I know.  And there’s no one else in Starfleet who comes close to understanding all the issues that go along with this alliance the way I do.”

He chuckled.  “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

She looked at him reluctantly.  “What about you, Chakotay?”

“I’d like to do some work on that book I’ve thought about writing for so long.”

“On World War Three counter culture?”

He nodded, slipping his arms around her waist.  “But I can do that from anywhere.  The Academy has granted me a year long sabbatical if I should choose to take it.”  He leaned forward and kissed her eyelids.  “I’ll come with you to Br’nai, Kathryn, if that’s what you want to do.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“I don’t recall you asking me to do anything.”

Janeway shook her head with a smile, entwining her arms around his neck.  “I want you to have the life you want, too.”

“The life I want is with you, Kathryn, wherever that is.”

She blinked back tears and released one of her hands to poke him in the ribs.  “There you go with that hopeless romantic routine again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to look contrite.  “It’s a bad habit.  You’ll have to try and break me of it.”

She leaned in, feathering kisses over his lips, chin and neck.  “No.  I wouldn’t want to.  Not really.  Besides, it can be awfully sexy,” she purred.

He kissed her deeply before pulling away.  “I mean what I said.  I can take a sabbatical anywhere, as long as I complete my research in San Francisco before we go.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.  There’s no hurry.”

She stood on her tiptoes and reached up to kiss him.  “Chakotay, I love you.”

Without another word, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.  Outside, the waves crashed and the sun set with the changing of the tide.  Brilliant colors streaked across the sky as distant stars began to appear above the house on the cliff.  Inside the house, two people, filled with joy, gratitude and love, were overcome by the realization that together, they would never lose the things they lived for.