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“Coffee?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” Chakotay replied, tearing his eyes away from the photograph on the desk and watching as she poured a cup for herself. Then a second one. And brought both back down to the lower level of the room.
He faced forward, eyes drawn once more to the image of her with the grey-haired man and copper-colored dog. She set a cup in front of him. Chakotay mumbled his thanks, and she unsubtly turned the frame away from him before taking her seat.
He looked at the cup in front of him. She’s nervous, he thought, though she hid it well. For a moment he relished the idea of the cool and controlled Starfleet captain nervous in his presence. But then he looked at the woman in front of him, watched as her eyes drifted to the image she’d turned away from him, her eyes softening in a moment of naked vulnerability, and he wondered who the man was to her. A husband? A boyfriend? Did they have children? Who else did she leave behind in order to save a people not her own? Before him was a woman still mourning the loss of her crew, and now also the loss of her only way home to the grey-haired man, and it was enough to make him regret his spiteful thought. As penance, he took the cup of black coffee and sipped the bitter liquid as if he’d answered “Please.” He looked over to the coffee table on the upper level. No sign of a creamer or sugar bowl. He would have asked if he saw one.
“I have a proposition for you, Commander.”
He couldn’t help the arch of his brow and the quirk of his mouth at her terminology as he lowered his cup. He watched, fascinated, as the blush crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks. She looked down at the cup cradled between her hands on her desk, her own lips twitching as she realized her slip. Then, just as it had come, the blush dissipated, her mouth hardened, and she looked up at him.
“We find ourselves again with a common goal.”
He set the cup of offensive liquid on the desk. “What goal is that, Captain?”
“Getting back to the Alpha Quadrant, of course.”
He nodded. He supposed that was indeed his goal. Even if what awaited him there now was a prison sentence.
“If you hadn’t—” She paused. Her eyes flicked down to the cup in her hands, then back up to his face. “If you hadn’t lost the Val Jean, what would you have done?”
If you hadn’t destroyed your own ship, was the clear unspoken condition.
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully after a moment. “There wasn’t time to think about it, and no sense doing so now.” Destroying his ship had been extreme, but they’d been out numbered and outgunned. There hadn’t been time to think about the long term repercussions of his decision. Regardless, the array would still be gone, whether by her hand or the Caretaker’s. He might have tried to stop her, if he’d still had a ship, but he supposed that, inevitably, they’d have still ended up here, in her ready room, discussing their common goals.
“I’d have assumed you’d want to get back to rejoin the fighting.”
“We do.” Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, he asked, “You wouldn’t turn us in as soon as we got there?”
She smiled, and it was at once menacing and teasing. Then it was gone and she was looking down into her coffee cup as if the liquid inside would show her the answers to all her questions.
“I need—” she paused and took a deep breath. “I need to get everyone home.”
If he hadn’t already known to listen for it, he might not have heard it. But he’d been studying her every movement, every intonation and inflection since he’d walked into her office, and he heard it in her voice, saw it in the grip of her fingers around the cup in her hands, and the way she wasn’t looking at him: she felt guilty. And she was scared.
This time he felt no pleasure at the sight of her suffering. He should hate her, this Starfleet captain in front of him, but he was finding it very difficult to hate Kathryn Janeway.
“I’d like to help you with that.”
Her eyes shot up to his, wide and blue, and for a moment he didn’t think she understood. But then she blinked, nodded tersely, and her smile was genuine.
“I propose we combine our crews. We’ll need a single chain of command for everyone if this is going to work. It should be Starfleet. Not only is this a Starfleet ship, but the order and regulations will be necessary to maintain discipline and morale. It’s a 75 year journey. Everyone will need something to do…”
She was rambling, trying to convince him that her way was the most logical when he would have agreed simply because they were on her ship and at her mercy. She could do anything she wanted with him and his crew, and she wanted to get them home. And something told him it wasn’t to turn them over to the Federation for brownie points.
“Captain.”
She looked a little startled at the interruption. And once he was under her command, he wouldn’t be allowed to interrupt her again, but he wanted to put her out of her misery. “I agree. You don’t need to convince me.”
“In that case I hope you’ll be as amiable to my next proposal.”
“And that is?”
“You as my first officer.”
He hadn’t seen that one coming and, speechless, his eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Lieutenant Commander Cavit, my former first officer, died when the Caretaker brought us here,” Janeway explained
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded.“If we are truly to merge our crews, this is the most logical choice.”
“Did Tuvok tell you that?” He’d meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. She took it in stride, however.
“No, Commander. I can think logically all on my own, thank you.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fair enough.”
She opened a drawer and placed a small flat box between them. He’d seen these before, and knew before he reached out and opened it what it would contain. And as he stared at the three pips, he couldn’t help but ask, “And when we get home?”
“I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that you and your people are treated fairly, and that your service on Voyager—however long it may be—is taken into consideration.”
He studied her for a long moment, trying to find any trace of a lie in her eyes but found none. Chakotay guessed that he could study the woman in front of him for the entirety of their journey home and he still wouldn’t fully understand her. She was certainly not who he’d thought Starfleet would send after him.
“You might be the most peculiar captain I’ve ever met,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied and sipped her coffee.
“Aren’t you afraid of mutiny?”
“Should I be?”Her brow arched in question, daring him to try.
He suppressed a sigh and set the box back down on the desk. “No, Captain. If I’m going to be your first officer, then I will be your first officer. You’ll find I do nothing by halves.”
She nodded but didn’t respond further.
Chakotay looked down to the pips in their box once more, and realized the weight of what he’d just said. This time, he couldn’t help his reaction and his strangled laugh momentarily filled the room. “I had thought that included my resignation,” he said. He plucked one pip from the box and held it up between them.
It was true that he whatever he did, he did whole-heartily, whether that was eschewing his tribe’s customs and joining Starfleet, or resigning from Starfleet to defend them. And were he to be Janeway’s first officer, he would be that until they got home or until his last breath (whichever came first). What he didn’t know was why she wanted him. It was logical, sure; the Maquis wouldn’t fall in line for Starfleet, and they certainly wouldn’t take orders from the spy who’d infiltrated their ranks without his order.
“I understand the logic in to choosing me,” he said, “but if this is some token position—”
“Commander,” she cut in. “You’ll find that I, too, do nothing by halves. All I ask is that you consider it.” Her stare was all at once challenging and convicted; harsh and sympathetic; imploring and commanding. How one look could convey so many conflicting emotions, he did not know. He was reminded again that he would probably never truly know the woman before him.
But he wanted to.
“Peculiar” was an understatement.
To escape her gaze, he placed the pip back in its box once more, a question for later.
“There is one more matter I’d like to discuss with you before I show you to your quarters,” she said.
He sat back in his chair. “And that is?”
“Tom Paris.”
Inwardly, he groaned. “I supposed that would come up.”
“I’m going to make him chief helmsman.”
Once more she managed to surprise him. “Paris?” Even if Paris hadn’t betrayed them, Chakotay wouldn’t trust Paris to pilot a cargo freighter.
“Are we going to have a problem, Commander?”
He sighed, despising the fact that his life belonged to the man in question and he could not do what she thought he would. “No. Paris saved my life. He reminded me while we were down there—in no uncertain terms— that my life now belongs to him.”
“And the other Maquis?” she asked, no doubt anticipating revenge attacks.
“As I said, my life belongs to him until I save his.”
She cocked her head. “And after you do that?”
He looked once more at the pips between them. Enemy or not, captor or not, had their places been reversed, he would not have left her on that staircase. But he could have easily picked her up and carried her out. But she… “You would have killed us both trying to save my life.”
He had no doubt about that. She would have tried and they’d both be painted on the cavern floor. He had realized not long after Paris had pulled him through the access tunnel and onto the surface of Ocampa that he had truly thought she’d leave him behind. He almost wished she had so that he could hate her. Starfleet. The Federation. They’d left his people behind time and time again.
But she hadn’t left him.
She would have died rather than leave him.
He owed her.
And he owed her more than just protecting Paris from vengeful Maquis.
…To honor a debt that can never be repaid.
“And so...” He nudged the box for emphasis. “I owe you a lot more than I owe Tom Paris. I’ll be your first officer.”
He thought that perhaps he’d surprised her with his answer because she blinked blankly at him twice before nodding and closing the lid on the box.
She stood and rounded the desk. “We can discuss commissions and duty assignments tomorrow.”
He stood as she did out of habit and palmed the small box. “I’ll prepare a list of Maquis personnel and recommendations for placements and have it to you by 1300.”
She nodded. “Very good. Come, I’ll show you to your quarters.”
The doors opened at her approach and Neelix and Kes pressed excitedly into the room.
“Ah, Captain!” said Neelix as if Janeway had invited them in. “We were just coming to see you.”
“We supplied your ship with water, Neelix,” Janeway said. “It's ready to go.”
“Well, you see, that's what we wanted to discuss,” Neelix replied, beaming and bouncing with excitement. “We'd like to go with you.”
The toothy grin and hopelessly eager expression on the whiskered alien’s face had Chakotay working hard to suppress his laughter. Janeway didn’t appear to be doing much better, biting her lip on a smile.
“I'm sorry,” she eventually said. “This isn't a passenger ship.”
“Of course not,” Kes interjected quickly. “We won't be passengers.”
“We'd be valuable colleagues,” said Neelix.
“Colleagues?” Janeway sounded doubtful about that.
“Whatever you need is what I have to offer,” Neelix said. “You need a guide? I'm your guide. You need supplies? I know where to procure them. I have friends among races you don't even know exist. You need a cook? Oh, you haven't lived until you've tasted my angla'bosque. It will be my job to anticipate your needs before you know you have them. And I anticipate your first need will be me.” He smiled smugly, clearly thinking he’d made Janeway an offer she couldn’t refuse.
“Captain,” Kes said sincerely, “we both want very much to be a part of your journey.”
Janeway looked at Chakotay questioningly, and Chakotay could not tell if she was looking for his opinion or asking for a way out. “We could use a guide,” he said
Janeway sighed and looked back at the pair of aliens with a smile. “Welcome aboard.”
Kes and Neelix were uncontainable in their excitement. Janeway dismissed them and then gestured for Chakotay to follow her. They left her ready room through the auxiliary entrance and he followed her out into the corridor and to the turbo lift. He wondered why she wanted to escort him. He could have used the ship’s directory.
As they walked, him one step behind her left shoulder, she talked. “You’ll be able to access the main computer from the console in your quarters. You can input your command codes and set your access codes this evening.”
That would have required pre-authorization, and since she hadn’t configured it in his presence, she’d done it before their meeting. “You were that confident I’d accept?”
The corner of her mouth rose into a charming half smile. “Captain’s prerogative.”
He smiled back.
They paused to wait for the lift. When it opened Janeway stepped inside, Chakotay right behind her.
“Deck three,” she said.
The silence lasted only a moment before she continued. “We need to hold a memorial.”
Her words caught him off guard.
“It’s important that the crew mourn. And that they know we remember those who won’t make it home.” Her tone was stilted, the words automatic, like the description in a procedural guide. She’d been staring at the lift doors but now she turned her head to look at him. “How many?”
The question shook him, and not just because of the unexpected raw emotion that filled it.
How many?
Too many.
“Twelve,” he said, the word catching in his throat.
The doors opened and she preceded him into the corridor. The walk to his quarters was short and silent, Janeway nodding to the single crew member they passed.
“I assume you remember how to set a door code?” she asked at his door.
“Assuming the process hasn’t changed in three years,” he replied, half joke, half question.
“Cavit’s things should have already been put into storage. If they happened to miss anything, you can take it to cargo bay 2.”
So these were the First Officer’s quarters. From what he’d seen of the directory so far, that would make them neighbors.
“I promise not to throw any wild, late-night parties.”
A look of puzzlement crossed her features before she caught his meaning and smiled.
“I’ll see you on the bridge, Commander.” She turned and continued down the hallway, only making it a few steps before he stopped her.
“And, Captain?”
She turned back around. “Hmm?”
“Get some sleep.” She looked like she could use it. “You won’t do anyone any good if you’re exhausted.”
Even from where he stood, Chakotay could see the dark circles around her eyes, the pale ghostliness of her complexion, and he wondered if she’d slept at all since arriving in the Delta Quadrant. If it were possible, her cheekbones stood out a little more than they had just a few days ago. But perhaps it was just the lighting he told himself.
Chakotay knew—better than most—the crushing weight of responsibility and the resulting all-consuming need to keep working, keep fighting, keep moving. If left unchecked, it could kill a man, waste away at him until he was nothing but a withered stalk unaware he was dying until he took his last breath. He would not wish that fate on anyone.
Janeway looked at him, expression unreadable, and he wondered if he had perhaps overstepped and if she was deciding how long to keep him in the brig.
“As First Officer, the Captain’s well being is my responsibility.”
She cocked her head and frowned. “I don’t remember that being among the duties of a first officer.”
“It is when I’m in the position.”
She stared at him and Chakotay knew she was trying to read him. Then she sighed and he could see her lips twitching and fighting a smile. “Is this what I have to look forward to for the next 75 years?”
“If necessary.”
“Well then. Good night, Commander.” She walked away in the opposite direction of where she’d first been heading.
“Good night, Captain.”
As the doors to his new quarters swished shut behind him, Chakotay knew that looking after her would be perhaps the greatest pleasure, and greatest frustration of his life.