The Cardassian Mask Chapter 1: Part One: Gardens, a startrek: voyager fanfic

THE CARDASSIAN MASK

The Cardassian Mask

A Star Trek: Voyager Novel

written and illustrated by
L. R. Bowen

Star Trek: Voyager copyright by Paramount Pictures, Inc. Characters, their distinctive likenesses and the Star Trek universe are the property of Paramount. Story copyright 1996, 1997 by L.R. Bowen. This work is not intended to infringe on any Paramount copyrights, and is not being sold for the author's profit. It may not be reprinted, excerpted, adapted, posted, electronically archived or otherwise used or circulated without the express written consent of the author. Permission is given to circulate the electronic version available from the author's web site without charge and with all identifying information, the author's name and disclaimers intact.

http://members.aol.com/lrbowen/lrbowen.htm

DEDICATION

"THE CARDASSIAN MASK" is dedicated with love to Michelle Green. She read every word of it as it was produced, read every incremental revision, urged its completion on innumerable occasions, provided commentary and criticism and encouragement beyond measure. This work would have taken a very different route without her input, and without the author's unwholesome zeal for leaving her over weekends with cliffhanger endings to chapters.

Acknowledgments

A GREAT MANY PEOPLE helped with various elements of this work at all stages of its composition. Most of them are denizens of the alt.startrek.creative newsgroup and of Star Trek email lists. It is not an exaggeration to say that the sheer vitality of the online Star Trek fan fiction community has given the author much of her energy in creation for the last year and a half.

This novel would not exist at all without Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek universe and its latest incarnation in Voyager. Thanks to Rick Berman, Jeri Taylor, and Michael Piller for the first two seasons. I've loved Star Trek since childhood, when all we had was reruns of the original series and the first movie was only a gleam in Paramount's eye. But Voyager is hands down the version that has inspired the most reaction from me, in the form of fan fiction.

MANUSCRIPT READERS and commenters: Macedon, who raised an eyebrow at mixed metaphors; Claire Gabriel, who pointed out the larger flies in the ointment. Mary Eichbauer, Becca O, Diavolessa, Kit Montana, Joan Testin, Diane Nichols, Jennifer Pelland, Laura Williams, JoAnne Soper-Cook for substantial feedback and nitpicks. Many others for general comments.

AID WITH DETAILS of fact and fancy: Macedon, for Native American spirituality; Rachel Wyman for Klingon expressions. Errors and overenthusiastic extrapolations are mine alone.

AID WITH DESIGN: Kit Montana.

PICTURE RESOURCE: Meri and her tireless video capture board.

PREFACE

THIS NOVEL was originally intended as a short story. Bet you've heard that one before. Its composition began approximately one week after the episode "State of Flux" first aired in March 1995. As more episodes aired, I incorporated more facts and details until the MS was substantially complete in early November 1995. At that point, I sent it to a number of readers who gave excellent feedback and encouragement. When "Maneuvers" aired later that month, it confirmed many of the themes already established, but I had to decide how to integrate all the new information about Seska. Work progressed slowly, with other projects taking up my attention until February 1996, when the present novel began to take shape. It reached its final form in May/June 1996, after all the second season's episodes had aired.

I couldn't take every element of the Voyager timeline into account, since I had to cut it off somewhere in order to finish writing! I decided to set the story at the end of the first season, after "Learning Curve" and before "The 37s", since it is basically a response to that set of shows. The stardate assigned to it reflects that placement. Details and foreshadowing from the second season crept in during revision. As a result, "The Cardassian Mask" will fit into canon up to the events of "Resolutions", at the end of the second season. Since the Janeway/Chakotay relationship took a welcome but unexpected turn in that episode, nearly all J/C fan fiction that had been written up to that point was made non-canon, and "The Cardassian Mask" is no exception. This story exists in the universe created by so many fan authors; that of a possible route these two might have taken towards connection, given their friendship and attraction so tantalizingly offered on the show itself.

I'd like to make it clear that this is an adult novel, not meant for minors. This is not primarily an erotic work, but it contains some strong language and intense situations that may upset sensitive people. If you don't enjoy reading about sexual matters, be warned.

"The Cardassian Mask" is intended for those who enjoy Voyager and its principal characters. It's an homage to Star Trek and to Trek fans, an expansion on a shared universe. It is not meant as theft or infringement, but as an expression of love and dedication and acknowledgment of potential. It has this in common with countless other fan works worldwide. If one can judge a work by what it inspires in others, Voyager has reached an extraordinary standard.

L. R. Bowen
[email protected]

FIRST OFFICER

A smooth white fledgling swan, that spreads her wings like sails;
Her captain said to me, "Put our differences aside."
I walk her deck plates now, run my hands along her rails,
The uniform I tore away I wear again with pride.

I was a captain once; I may never be again:
The flock that I commanded orbits now another sun.
If I could choose once more, throw the gulf between us twain,
What says the star that I would seek would be a different one?

This lady's mine. I'd give my eyes to see her safe from harm;
I'd give my hands to help her but a mile along her way;
Her head I may not be, but I am her strong right arm;
My heart lies in her keeping, though gain home it never may.

Commander to commanded is my highest duty now,
But in commanded to commander lies the substance of my vow.

PART ONE: GARDENS

CHAPTER ONE

THE UNIVERSE of stars.

Kathryn Janeway looked out of the viewport in her quarters and realized that any part of the galaxy, of many galaxies, might look much the same to her from the warm haven of her bed. The many colors of the lights, never so visible from a planet's surface as from airless space, the delicate tendrils and clouds of the nebulae, the glow of new stars still obscured by the dust that had given them birth. Janeway had seen similar vistas far closer to home, and there was nothing in this one to prove to her that she and her ship were a lifetime's travel from familiar places.

She turned over, and sighed, not sadly, and put her arm out to the right where the bed was empty. It was not made for two, the bed in the captain's quarters, but she always slept to one side anyway, leaving a little room for someone who was not there. It made the bed seem warmer, somehow. Her loose hair slipped across the pillows as she slowly sat up, and fell against her back with the softest of sounds, and a touch like a gentle hand on the fabric of her nightgown. Dreaming about Mark? Someone who was not there. Her shadowy lover vanished with the first waking thoughts, always. But she had a smile for the morning, and for the stars.

"Computer, play program Janeway Epsilon Two," she said, and a happy fiddle tune, her wake-up music, drifted through the room as the lights came up. The flowers in the vases greeted her, and a medium- sized heap of data PADDs on her desk in the sitting area, visible through the open door. It wasn't yet time to get to work, but the reminders of it were everywhere, even in her most private spot. Janeway shrugged off her gown and left it in a little pink heap as she moved to the bathroom to take a shower. Her hair needed washing today, and she had thirty minutes still before she had planned to eat breakfast, so she could take her time and make a small luxury out of it. The tune of the fiddle was a good one to hum with, so she hummed as she worked out the knots with a brush in front of the mirror and stepped into the shower. Her favorite shampoo, with a little scent to it, and several minutes just to stand and let the warmth surround her.

The dryer had her hair smooth and shining in an instant after she finished and stepped out, and she swept it up and pinned it quickly, letting the wave in front relax over her forehead. Somewhat more flattering, though still controlled; not bad. Janeway had been experimenting with her hair lately. She surveyed the effect, hands on hips, reached for her cosmetics, put on a stroke of lipstick, reentered the bedroom and dressed. The uniform had just come out of the cleaning cycle and hung crisp and smooth in her closet next to a spare and a few outfits for special occasions. A diaphanous scarf hurriedly draped over a beige dress. Lifted by the air as she opened the door, it floated to the floor, and she bent automatically to pick it up, but hesitated.

She should have put that away, or given it to someone else. The scarf was lovely, but the memories associated with it still rankled. Janeway drew it into her hands, feeling the impossibly light gossamer pass through her fingers, almost not registering as a solid substance, the veiling a nearly invisible wash of color. Beautiful, but an illusion. The Sikarians were generous with trivial pleasure, but had denied Voyager their space-folder, that had been a brief bright hope for the homeward journey. And the consequence? Near-mutiny, Voyager almost destroyed, a new friend in disgrace, an old friend sacrificing her absolute trust in him to do what she could not. Torres had returned to her work, chastened, and Tuvok stepped carefully now, the rift in what had been perfect understanding never to fully close again. Janeway folded the scarf and put it in a drawer.

The wall chronometer still gave her five minutes. The captain did not stand a regular duty shift, as she was on call all the time, but she liked a predictable schedule on days that were not disrupted by any of the myriad oddities of the Delta Quadrant. She picked up her nightgown, folded it on the pillow, straightened the covers, and left for breakfast. As she passed First Officer Chakotay's quarters, just down the corridor on the way to the turbolift, she heard him stirring.

HE WOULD have given a month's pay, not that he had much use for it out here, just to see the sun rise on trees and hills and to feel the movement of early breezes on his face. Ironic, he thought, that a man who had chosen to leave the orb of his birth should long for it now, out among the stars where he had always meant to make his home. But he had dreamed of forests again, and of a view of lakes from a high place. The most restless wanderer must sometimes circle back to touch the earth once more.

Chakotay threw the covers back and rolled naked out of bed, stretched to his greatest height with a discreet crackle of joints, bent and touched his toes. He was going to have to do a lot of walking today and wanted to limber up, his muscles tight from lack of running room. Voyager's chronic shortages--space, crew, power, food--needed constant attention, and in a couple of hours he would be leading an away team to gather food on a planet Neelix had recommended. Voyager had changed course at Janeway's order, and they were due in orbit just after breakfast. Though Neelix had burbled on about the scenery, Chakotay's expectations were not too high, but this was a precious chance to get out of doors.

He sat cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes for a moment. Here, in this cabin he was gradually filling with the work of his hands, he was beginning to find the home he needed. His medicine bundle was safely hidden where it belonged, and the medicine wheel he had painted was rolled on a shelf around the guiding stones that gave it power. He had taken a stone from each planet Voyager had visited, and put a mark on it that gave it the capacity to hold a piece of the natural spirit of the place. He had quite a little collection now, but none of them was very new. Weeks now since he had breathed air that had the scent of leaves and water, or looked out a window that had a sky beyond. His gaze lingered on the stars in the viewport as he chanted quietly, pausing to hear the answering notes from the lives all around him. They were here with him, and he could take some comfort from that fact alone, and not miss the ones who were gone quite as much. Those who were dead still looked over his shoulder and gave advice; but he wished suddenly he could feel warm living hands in his, and the brush of soft hair under his chin as he gave comfort and received it. A long time ago now, he thought, and don't go counting the days.

He rose, and went to wash, and put on his uniform that seemed almost natural again. Black and red for Starfleet command, the life he had chosen as a boy and abandoned as a man. And then stumbled back to by a route so unlikely no dream of his had ever predicted it. The solid insignia pin on the collar was the only thing that identified him as a former Maquis--that, and the curving blue angles on his left temple. One day, if he was lucky, his father might look over his shoulder again and know that his son had returned to the path his ancestors pointed out, that he had received the ancient mark with no thought of ever returning to the stars he had loved so well. Chakotay looked out the viewport at the endless void between the bright points. A twisted path, the one he walked; doubling back upon itself, contrary: in the traveler's image.

"Hell, that's what you get for gambling with other people's rules," he said to himself, and quirked his mouth at his reflection in the mirror. Another day, another mystery meal or two from the cheerful Talaxian cook and self-appointed Morale Officer. At least the sight of Neelix always made him smile. Chakotay smoothed his cropped hair with two quick strokes of the hand, tugged on the sleeves of his uniform, and headed for the dining room.

"GOOD MORNING, Captain."

"Good morning, Commander. I see our schedules are coinciding for once." Janeway glanced at Chakotay as she filled her cup from the pot on the table. A wisp of steam spiraled out, the air disturbed by his arrival.

"Yes."

"Care for some of Neelix's 'coffee'?"

"I usually don't indulge this early in the day." Chakotay smiled slightly, holding a bowl of hot cereal. Janeway returned the smile, more broadly, and his expression changed. Not a grin, but a different smile, one that brought his whole face awake.

"I don't blame you. I have to have something to get me going in the morning, though, even if it's not the real thing." Chakotay seemed to be enjoying a private joke, and Janeway raised a brow, looked at the pot and put it down. "Are the away teams all ready to go? Have a seat."

"Thank you, Captain." He pulled out a chair and straddled it in one motion, put his bowl on the table. "Yes, everyone has their assignments. I'm taking as few as possible, because of that Kazon- Nistrim ship we spotted yesterday, and about as many security guards as food gatherers."

"Tuvok's very concerned about that ship. And he's probably right to be--if this planet really is as good a gathering spot as Neelix seems to think, the Kazon must visit here fairly often along with everyone else."

"We'll be there as short a time as possible." Chakotay ate in between phrases while she sipped at her cup. "Frankly, there may not be much reason to stay if the verdant area is only a few thousand kilometers square. Other ships may have stripped it clean."

"But the gardens are supposed to be beautiful," Neelix called from the kitchen, where he was serving plates to a long line of crewmen. "I'd visit there just to look at them, even if I didn't need any food."

"Really?" said Janeway with interest. "Gardens? I thought you said no one lived there and all this was growing wild."

"No one lives there any more. But there are a lot of old ruins, and that so-called Kazon base--"

"Kazon base?" They said it almost in unison, spluttering hot food, and Neelix looked alarmed.

"Oh, no, no, it's only a rumor. There aren't any satellites, and only ruins on the surface. No, it's just a myth." He wrinkled his freckled nose in deprecation and stirred a sticky mass in one of his pots. "The Nistrim visit a lot, but so does everyone else who knows about it. It's a neutral area and this is the only thing worth visiting at all. The Kazon don't claim this sector, usually. Talaxian convoys go there nearly as often when the Nistrim are out of the way."

"Neelix, you might have mentioned that earlier, rumor or not. We're nearly there now." Janeway put her cup down and looked at Chakotay, who was arching his brows with dry humor. She started to reprove him with her own expression, but he shrugged.

"We were going to take security precautions anyway. If we detect anything unusual, we'll just leave. Voyager can outrun the Kazon."

"And you'll just love it down there, Captain," Neelix chimed in. "I've never been to the surface myself, but I talked to a Talaxian who had talked to some one who had been, and he went on for hours about the scenery. I was simply spellbound."

Janeway and Chakotay looked at each other with a mutual smile, but she glanced down at her cup again after a moment. "We'll see. Tuvok will probably have something to say about that." She shifted her look back to Chakotay, who was still smiling, his eyes lingering over her hair. "How is the personnel situation in ship's operations, Commander?" She was a little surprised at the crispness of her tone.

"Well..." Chakotay took another spoonful of cereal. "B'Elanna asked me to mention the problems in Engineering since we lost...Ensign Seska."

"Ah." A brief pause, the name hanging in the silence between them. Chakotay's attention focused on his bowl. "And she would like my authorization for a transfer from another section?"

"I almost promised her one. Well, two, actually." He glanced up from under his brows, his face sobering at Janeway's slight frown, and tugged on one ear.

"I'm afraid there just aren't enough trained people to go around. B'Elanna's doing wonders with what she has--please tell her so. It's her own efficiency that makes it possible to run Engineering with a depleted staff, and take some of the pressure off other areas." Janeway smiled to soften the sting. "I'm sorry."

"Aye, Captain." Chakotay swallowed the last spoonful of cereal and stood up.

"Going to eat and run?"

"Well, unless there's something else you'd like--"

"No," Janeway replied, and leaned back to look into his face. "Call me on the bridge if anything comes up. And, Chakotay--"

"Yes?"

"I think you're doing wonders with what you have as well."

Chakotay paused on the verge of turning away, looked back at her with his dark eyes warm, his smile a little shy. Strange in a man so formidable, that diffidence of manner defusing his height and power--

He nodded in thanks, his gaze dropping away from hers, then stepped aside to let some crewmen pass, moved to the door and disappeared.

Janeway was still looking after Chakotay, and thought of him walking the corridors of Voyager where his duty took him, glad she had a first officer in whom she could repose such confidence. She would never have thought it some months ago of a man she had meant to arrest as an outlaw. The captain smiled into her cup, grimaced and finished her ersatz coffee, and departed for the bridge.

"NO, ADAMS, I didn't draw straws. I chose people who could cover a lot of ground and carry big sacks of fruit, and whose absence wouldn't harm the ship's battle-readiness too much. If one Kazon ship has been here, there could be more, and at least some of them know how to cloak themselves from Voyager's sensors. This isn't the place for casual sightseeing."

"Yessir," replied the disappointed young officer, and stood back glumly from the transporter pad. Chakotay nodded to the transporter chief.

"Energize." Another group of food gatherers dematerialized. Tuvok and his security team had already been on the surface for half an hour, but had reported no sign of Kazon encampments. Chakotay stepped to the pad with the last five crewmen in the room.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

"Yes, Captain. Are you coming? All but the last group are down."

"No, Tuvok concurred with me--it's too dangerous for anyone to leave Voyager unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm sorry I won't be going with you." He heard what sounded like a faint sigh. "I wanted to wish you luck in the gathering, and please enjoy yourself. Tell me about the gardens when you get back, if they really are so beautiful."

"Certainly I will," Chakotay replied. "I'll describe them as we go, if you would like." He could imagine Janeway's smile in the tone of her voice.

"Thank you, Commander. All in the spirit of scientific investigation, of course. Janeway out."

Chakotay began to give the order to energize, and had a sudden thought. "Wait a minute, Ensign," he called after Adams, who was leaving downcast. I've got a job for you after all. There's another piece of equipment we're going to need." He sprang off the transporter pad with an energy that surprised him. "I'll be back in five minutes, Chief. Adams, I hope you're in practice, because I've probably forgotten everything I ever knew about holocameras."

"Yessir," replied Adams, beaming.

CHAPTER TWO

AH, THE IRONIES of the universe, Janeway thought, and smiled in wonder. The crew of a starship, the greatest invention of science, that could take its occupants distances beyond imagination, faster than the light of the suns they brushed on their way--

Looking for the best spots to gather the fruits from the trees, and stockpiling the roots they dug by hand from the earth.

Below her turned a planet, a vast dry orb, save for a thousand square kilometers of fertile garden. In all the great desert, only one small area of verdant life; a mystery, but a welcome one.

"I wish you could be down here with me," said Chakotay over the comlink. Janeway heard a rustle of fallen leaves as he sat down. "This view is even better than the one from the hills. I ran all the way down just to get to the lake, though I was missing more sights on the way."

"Sounds like a place one could spend a lot of time in."

"I'm babbling, I know. But it's like nothing...do you want to hear what I'm seeing now?"

"Go ahead, I'm listening."

Chakotay paused, apparently composing his words for her. "Green water, clear as emerald, and the sun dancing with the ripples," he said softly. "The lake's like a jewel set in silvery grass. Tree branches trailing in the water along the shore and moving in the breeze, and all across the lake there are rafts of white flowers and huge round lily pads--each must be two meters across. They're dark green, even though the leaves on the trees have that strange violet coloration. By the way, all the lakes turned out to be full of edible fish, and Kes thinks she could set up an aquaculture tank to raise them on board."

"That's an excellent idea. How is the food gathering going, by the way? I'm not hearing too much about that."

"Very well, Captain. Nothing poisonous or too disgusting yet," he chuckled. He sounded warm and lazy, more informal than usual.

"Oh, good. I can't wait to have some of those fruits. You will tell me if you find any coffee plantations, won't you?" They laughed together over the comlink.

"Certainly. I'm on the lookout for chocolate cake bushes, too," he replied deadpan. Janeway beamed in amusement and looked at his empty chair beside her, imagining his faint playful smile. "Well, though I could spend a week here, I've still got work to do. I'll be coming back to Voyager in about an hour with the second load. Tuvok is still doing security sweeps, but there's no sign of any Kazon base, though there are a lot of ruins in the outlying areas."

"All right, Commander. It does sound delightful," she sighed. "Those waterfalls you described, and the floating islands of lilies on the lakes--is there any indication of why this small area is so humid?"

"The tricorder readings may tell you something, Captain. I'm afraid I'm not an expert on the weather, except for my home planet."

"Well, be careful down there. Janeway out." She cut the link. It's a wise policy to keep the captain on the ship when there's danger, she thought, but I've certainly broken it before. Why not now? Because she had broken it for good reason, to defend her crew and its interests, not for recreation. No matter how beautiful the spot, or how fresh the breezes, or how satisfactory the company. The first officer was certainly having a good time down there. Chakotay sounded better than he had for weeks.

She hadn't missed his unconscious turn of phrase--'here with me', not just 'here'. Apparently he was feeling more social, in the lovely setting she could only imagine from his words. Chakotay had been morose and taciturn for a long time after Seska's disappearance, and still lapsed into dark moods occasionally, in which he kept entirely to himself off duty. But Janeway's worries had evaporated with his first report from the surface, soft-voiced with awed delight. And what would it be like, walking with him under the violet leaves? Tuvok called with a report on the security scans, and she was distracted.

CHAKOTAY SMILED to himself and jumped up as Ensign Adams drew near, the young man brandishing a complicated-looking device bristling with dials and lenses. "How's the recording going?" he called, brushing aside weeping branches as he approached along the lake shore.

"I covered the area and the lake pretty well already, Commander," said Adams, lowering the holocamera that he had been holding up to his eye as he walked. "Kind of quick to do a really detailed job, though."

"That's all right," Chakotay said. "Now, would you give that to me for a while? I've got something special in mind."

"Uh, sure, Commander. The guards are right over there."

Hiking back to the exact spot Chakotay wanted took some time, but he made certain to record it from every angle. He didn't want the computer to have to interpolate elements and generalize the scene too much; he needed plenty of data to ensure the best possible result. The two security men with him relaxed visibly in this beautiful place, although their eyes kept scanning the trees and gentle slopes.

He hurried back to the transport site to supervise the beam-up.

TUVOK HAD NEARLY FINISHED his security report on the solar system, with an appended analysis of possible defensive scenarios in case of mutiny, when he realized that the temperature of his meal had probably dropped below the level of palatability. He took a bite of vegetable stew from his nearly full plate, and was confirmed in that suspicion. It would be wasteful to discard it, however, and he continued to eat, touching PADD keys with one hand as he did so. He heard a familiar laugh in the corridor, a moment of conversation, and Janeway strode into the dining room, licking her fingers in a manner that suggested delight and guilt combined. The Human penchant for simultaneous contradictory states of mind never ceased to puzzle him. She glanced over the room, at the full tables and eager diners. Few empty chairs, except at the isolated table where he sat. Tuvok was conscious of her gaze, but dropped his own. Janeway had not shared a meal with him in weeks, although it had been her habit to do so nearly every day until the disaster at Sikarius. It was logical, he knew, to lose some confidence in a person who had violated a trust. She made her way toward him, and he could smell sweet fruit on her breath when she stopped at his table. Tuvok laid down his PADD and looked up at her.

"I'm anticipating dinner tonight, for once. I've been...examining the new food supplies, and I had my dessert first, I must confess." Janeway smiled and licked her fingers again. "Very much like a ripe peach, but I should have saved it for last."

"Captain, the nutritional value of any meal is unaffected by the order of consumption of its components," Tuvok replied, and took another lukewarm forkful.

"Quite right," Janeway said with a suppressed humor she often employed in his presence. She went to the service counter where Neelix stood in an aromatic cloud, returning with a plate of fish in a bright red sauce, and a steaming cup. "This smells wonderful. Fresh food. If I had just been able to go down to the surface and breathe some fresh air to go with it, this would have been a perfect day. But it's worked out very well in spite of that." She sat down and hitched her chair up to the table.

"You are satisfied with the results of the day's endeavors?" Tuvok moved his PADD to make room for her plate, and she picked up the report and scanned it quickly.

"Well, let's see." She smiled and sipped at her cup. "This planet was like a cornucopia, there wasn't a single problem with the away teams--I must congratulate Chakotay on that--your security sweeps turned up nothing untoward, and I've had a very good time listening to a running commentary on what must be some of the most beautiful scenes in the quadrant. He does have a pleasant voice...it must have been very enjoyable to work down there, Tuvok."

"The arrangement of individually attractive elements into aesthetically satisfying vistas implied a carefully thought-out design. The fact that nearly every species of tree and shrub bore edible fruit would seem to have been the guiding factor in their selection, however. The logic of combining two of the important functions of gardens into one was impeccable, and engendered respect for the ability of the designer."

"In other words, you liked the place," said Janeway, chuckled, and took a bite of her fish.

"I believe I said so."

"It sounded like the whole away team did. I'm very glad about that. People need to run around in the sunshine every so often. It lifts their spirits." She continued to eat, reading the PADD. "My, this is spicy. But good. Neelix has obviously made a special effort today. I hope Chakotay comes to dinner in time to have some of this."

"Mr. Neelix spares no effort on his cuisine." Tuvok put down his fork, as he had consumed sufficient food to maintain his blood sugar and soluble vitamin levels until breakfast, and he did not care for the way the rapidly solidifying stew clung to the roof of his mouth. "But I believe the commander is not in the habit of consuming animal food."

"Ah, that's something you two have in common, then. Besides some experience in the Maquis." Janeway put the PADD down, raising her eyebrows at him and smiling slightly, but she did not seem to be making a joke.

"Captain, I do not consider that I was ever actually a member of the Maquis. My mission required--"

"You carried out your mission very well. Rather too well for Chakotay's taste, I suppose."

"Gaining Commander Chakotay's good will was not the object of the exercise."

"Of course not." Janeway looked thoughtful, and took another bite. "But perhaps you wish now that wasn't hanging between you two. Perhaps you wish there wasn't that rift of trust between you." She glanced at the PADD, the screen displaying his appendix on mutiny scenarios.

"It would be preferable from Commander Chakotay's point of view, I have no doubt." He allowed himself an ironic inflection.

"And from yours?"

"I have no reason to mistrust him--" Tuvok stopped, and considered the implications of what he had just said.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Mr. Tuvok," said Janeway, in a tone that he knew well. Tuvok decided to recast the appendix. The captain was not willing to entertain such thoughts just now, obviously, and he might have to come at the problem from another angle. However uncomfortable the possible hazards of their situation, he did not feel able to let them lie unexamined. Janeway gasped suddenly at a particularly spicy mouthful, tears starting in her eyes, and he gave her his glass of water, which she accepted with thanks. Janeway returned to her meal, and Tuvok poured himself another glass.

He drank meditatively while Janeway ate for several minutes in companionable silence. A seed of uneasiness remained within him, and he examined it carefully, testing its logic. The captain had returned to her former habit of consulting with him at mealtime, which filled him with...satisfaction, but the subject of the conversation was not to his liking. Was he being admonished to move aside, to make room for another point of view? Tuvok had been Janeway's adviser so long that he viewed her confidence as his due, though of course she could bestow it where she wished. Could she not repose her confidence in a new adviser without disregarding the old? Logically, the captain must use all the resources at her command, and Chakotay was an essential resource in managing the unpredictable, untrained, sometimes dangerous element of the former Maquis crew. Voyager needed their skills, and Janeway needed their goodwill and loyalty. To ensure security and harmony, therefore, she had given some of her trust and the position of first officer to the former Maquis captain. Chakotay was a trained officer and had discharged his duties efficiently, so the choice had proved a good one. Tuvok had perfected this train of reasoning from frequent repetition, and the familiar route of his mind ploughing in old furrows turned the seed of uneasiness aside, covered it over to wither in the dark.

Then he looked at Janeway again, and felt the seed germinate as if it had been given water. She looked up whenever someone entered the dining room, with the beginning of a smile, but each time looked down again without speaking to the newcomer, her frown growing almost imperceptibly deeper with each disappointment. And disappointment was what he read, subtle but clear, and his heart drained hot for a moment. She glanced up, and he was grateful there was nothing in his face that she could hold against him.

"I wonder where he is," said Janeway, tapping her fork against the rim of her plate.

"To whom do you refer?"

She made a face at him. "Chakotay, of course. He had a long day down on the surface, he brought all this good food back with him--why isn't he having dinner?"

"He informed me that he was working on a personal project, and I believe he must be engaged with it, possibly having lost track of time."

"Possibly. When he gets involved in something, he doesn't do it halfway. Did you know he's studied enough comparative mythology and Human psychology for a degree in either? I've had some fascinating discussions with him--"

"Yes," said Tuvok with a faint air of resignation. "On the occasion of our adventure in Ensign Kim's holodeck program, I was treated to a lecture on the function of the legendary monster in various literary traditions. The commander appears to have done a great deal of reading in his spare time."

Janeway smiled. "True, Chakotay can seem a little pontifical when he gets onto his favorite subjects. But he feels strongly about them, and that's an excuse for many faults."

"I cannot plead such an excuse for my faults, Captain."

"Really, Tuvok? I suppose I attribute motives to you that you don't have. Forgive me, it's a Human failing."

"I am quite familiar with it."

"Well, I'm going to go check on the bridge, leave you in charge, and then go to my quarters to catch up on all those reports you keep nagging me about," Janeway said, and stood. "We'll set a course to avoid that Kazon vessel. Call me if any come within sensor range. Before they do, if possible." The quirk of her lips told him she was making a joke in earnest now, and Tuvok bowed his head in perfect gravity.

"Aye, Captain." He rose with her, and walked close by her side as they left the dining room.

"ANOTHER UNUSUAL THING about this system--" Janeway mused aloud to herself, tapping the screen of a PADD as she hunched over the desk in her quarters. "This garden, all the water--and no sign of any defenses, or of anyone staking a claim to it." She had ordered Voyager on its way as soon as the away teams had returned with their loads of food, not wanting to risk an encounter with the ship they had spotted on their approach.

Tuvok's report contained an outline of what he knew about the Kazon-Nistrim, which was considerably less than about the Kazon- Ogla, the sect they had met on the surface of the Ocampa planet and had battled around the Caretaker's array. The Ogla had valued water highly, but perhaps the Nistrim had better access to sources such as this one. Neelix had said this was neutral space, open to anyone. Apparently there was an informal agreement among the peoples who passed through here to conserve the resources of the gardens and not monopolize them. Like a water hole in a desert, she thought; community property. If anyone tried to take one over, all others would be in jeopardy and no one able to travel for lack of supply. A very different situation from that in the Alpha Quadrant, where replicator technology was universal. If the Nistrim had been able to make use of the replicator Seska had stolen for them, the repercussions would have been enormous. Known for their violence, they would have been able to flout the social contract with impunity: take any oasis for their exclusive use, or simply deny its use to others. Janeway shuddered, and picked up the next PADD. Her desk intercom buzzed before the screen lit.

"Sorry to bother you, Captain," said Chakotay over the comlink. "I need a conference with you." He sounded serious and urgent, but simultaneously bursting with suppressed excitement.

"Certainly, Commander. What's the problem?"

"Not exactly a problem, Captain. Please come to the holodeck."

"The holodeck--?" A little flutter of suspicion crossed her mind. "All right, I'll be there in a few minutes," she continued, deciding to see what he had up his sleeve. The quiver of anticipation that passed through her was unexpectedly strong. Although she had been speaking to him all day over the comlink, she had seen him only at breakfast. She realized she wanted to see him, very much, see his face smile again in evidence of his good mood. Chakotay was known for his artistic touch with holodeck programming, but that was not what she looked forward to just now.

WHEN THE BIG DOOR slid open, sunlight streamed out into the corridor, accompanied by a sweet fragrance and sounds of laughing conversation. The planet's surface, just as her first officer had described it. Small groves of violet-leaved trees embraced soft pale meadows strewn with blue-green blossoms. A number of crew members lounged on the lake shore or waded in the water, while others walked about exclaiming at the unusually colored flora.

"Thank you, Commander," she said, although he was not in sight. "That was very thoughtful of you." She strode in and looked around with pleasure.

"I'm glad you like it, Captain." Chakotay's voice came from behind her, and Janeway turned to see him emerging from an open stand of flowering shrubs. "Besides the food gatherers, who were all working hard, no one was able to spend time here, and it was too beautiful just to leave behind without taking some reminder with us." He walked up to her side and smiled his transforming smile, a once-rare sight that was growing more common.

Janeway beamed in response, genuinely happy. Chakotay's mood had been so dark the previous day, and on other occasions, and it pleased her to see the neutral mask left off, to see him openly enjoying himself. He had such boyish dimples-- She squeezed his right bicep and surveyed the landscape.

"Is it the whole area around the lake?"

"Yes, I made sure to get recordings all over, especially of the best spots. It's like a Japanese garden--too perfect to be natural, even though no one had lived here for centuries. It's amazing that it's lasted this long."

"Pretty place, huh, Captain?" called out Tom Paris from the lake shore. He snapped a stone across the water and Janeway watched it skip four times. "Nuts, I was doing six or eight a minute ago. Watch this." He scrabbled on the beach, holding up pebbles with a critical eye. "Hey, Commander, write some more flat rocks into this."

"Maybe later, Lieutenant. The captain gets her guided tour first."

"Paris!" called Harry Kim, lounging on the grass with B'Elanna Torres and several other young officers. "Just put in a pool table and a bar, and it's perfect, right?" A chorus of laughter, which Janeway joined.

"Ahh, it's kinda wholesome for my taste," rejoined Paris, and snapped another stone across the water. "Nine! Yes!" He bent to hunt for more.

Janeway looked at her first officer with a smile, then beyond him at the pale hills, a delicate green against the cerulean sky. "Where are those waterfalls you were telling me about?"

"I was hoping you'd ask about that," he replied, and grinned, a flash of mischief of which she had hardly known him capable. "Here, come down to the water." What an energetic mood he's in, she thought. Outdoor work does agree with him. Chakotay led the way to a strip of sandy beach, where a canoe was drawn up with two paddles laid across the gunwales. "I know you don't have a lot of time to spare, so I thought we could go across the lake rather than around it."

"Oh, wonderful--I haven't been in a canoe in ages. You'd better steer."

They pushed the canoe into the water and leapt in, Janeway in the bow. Chakotay took a paddle and shoved powerfully off the shallow lake bottom, sending them out among the floating leaves.

The lake was about one kilometer in apparent diameter; it would take twenty minutes to reach the other side. They would not actually move very far, of course, since the holodeck was only a section of Deck Six, but the sound dampers and visual barriers gave the illusion of distance. Chakotay did most of the paddling, since Janeway frequently rested and simply looked at the scenery or trailed her hands in the water. A light breeze behind them helped propel the little craft. No hurry, really. She could afford to take a break from reading, clear her head, and go back to work refreshed. She was still on the ship, so she was on call in case of any crisis. Nothing to worry about.

A sudden thought struck her. "Commander--you never went to the dining room. Aren't you hungry? You spent all evening on this program--"

"Actually, Captain," he replied with a self-deprecating laugh, "I ate so much fruit down on the surface--so did everyone else there--that I really didn't want any dinner. We couldn't resist, so I gave in and just counted it as a meal ration."

Janeway laughed merrily at the image. "I did just about the same thing in the cargo bay when the loads came in. Oh, I remember going berry-picking at a farm once when I was about six. My mother said they should weigh me, not just the baskets, to see how much we had gathered. My face was purple with the juice."

Chakotay chuckled with her, then said softly, "There are a lot of wild berry patches around where I grew up." She turned, and he was looking at the lake shore, where laden vines hung from slender boughs and cast shadows on the water. The stroke of his paddle paused, and the droplets from the blade made a broken trail of rippling circles as the canoe glided forward. In a moment, Chakotay faced forward again and put the paddle in the water, and the practiced strength of his pull guided them across the lake.

The waterfalls were exquisite, a series of stone terraces each less than a meter high, cascading down from the river. Dark purple-blue leaves reflected in the shining pools, and the sound of plunging, dancing water mingled with soft rustles from the breeze in the tree tops.

Janeway sank down on the grassy bank and looked around with dreamy satisfaction. "This has to be one of the loveliest holoscenes I've ever been in," she said. "It's just like you described it. Better."

Chakotay fairly shone with pride, squatting down beside her. "Oh, it was already there--I just recorded it," he said modestly, and smiled. His expression was warm, almost comradely, she thought. They had never been this easy, this casual together before. Some kind of real connection, of friendship and mutual comfort finally developing? Chakotay's service with Janeway had begun with a wary dance of testing maneuvers such as the one that had put Torres in her office. She had yielded many such points to him to ease the transition, knowing that he wanted harmony as much as she did for the sake of the crew. They had settled into a careful rhythm, one that had been disrupted only occasionally, as at Sikarius. She still remembered his brief vehemence in conference and subsequent near-absence from negotiations, once she had made it clear she put the Prime Directive above Voyager's immediate advantage.

But he was certainly trying to make peace. Although the holorecording had been for the benefit of the entire crew, something about his manner, his half-shy appreciation of her reaction told her that this part of it was especially for her. A gift.

"Thank you, Chakotay," she said, deliberately using his name instead of his title. To her mild surprise, his smile slowly faded while he continued to hold her gaze. The camaraderie changed to something less comfortable; the energy of his mood made a subtle surge in his face. It reminded her of her first sight of him on his own bridge, captain to captain. But the energy had gained warmth since the last time she had seen it, altered its nature in dormancy. Almost a glow. Chakotay's eyes dipped to the ground just as Janeway began to wonder how the change had come about. With a hearty slap on his knees, as if to rally himself, he sprang to his feet and jumped down the bank to the water.

"I'm going to check the resolution around the limits of the scene," he said, stepping with a dancer's lightness across stones in the stream to reach the other side. "I might make a couple of adjustments to the program--"

"Oh, don't talk about that," she chided. "I want to believe it's real, if only for a few minutes."

"Believe anything you like," Chakotay replied from the opposite bank, smiling a little oddly. "I'll be back in a minute." He turned and walked into the dark trees, uphill, and soon disappeared from her sight.

Actually, he was gone nearly a quarter of an hour, but Janeway had fallen into a reverie by the staircase of shimmering pools and splashing trickles, and hardly noticed the length of his absence.

She could think about him more intently when he was not present.

Her accidental first officer. He hadn't come up on a rotation roster; he hadn't been recommended by another captain for the post; he hadn't been interviewed or tested or cleared. Would she even have considered an officer with an outlook so different from hers? When she had invited him to take up the responsibility, second only to her own in its importance to the ship, she had really had no choice in the matter. If she wanted the Maquis's help, she had to make concessions and a true alliance--she couldn't simply claim their services without giving their captain a voice in command. Chakotay was qualified, an Academy graduate and a Starfleet veteran of many years, but he had resigned his commission to join an outlaw organization. The Cardassians were abusing their jurisdiction over his home, and that had taken precedence over all else. For a person of Janeway's bent, such an action was unimaginable. Chakotay apparently did not hold himself accountable to external authority, but to his inward directives.

What had those directives told him that had allowed him to be the lover of someone under his command? A Maquis command, to be sure, but the principle was still the same. Favoritism from the superior, improper influence going both ways, jealousy from others in the crew, decisions of command weakened by biases that might injure the ship's mission. At least he had seen fit to break it off with Seska, probably realizing he was not immune to all those considerations. That was one mistake he would surely never make again, considering its aftermath, but Chakotay was a tester, a risk-taker. If he was certain he was right, that was all he needed for action. Janeway had reason to be grateful for that trait of his; first he had sacrificed his own ship to save Voyager, and then had backed Janeway without reservation. Reckless, from his perspective as a hunted outlaw, but guided by some deep conviction that meant more to him than his own immediate advantage. Had he even welcomed his unofficial return to the rank he had abandoned? He had many ideas in common with Janeway, although he saw the universe in very different terms from hers. It was inevitable that they would argue over procedure and fine legal points, and almost as inevitable that they would find that their larger goals had always been the same.

Janeway knew she looked outwards for answers; brisk, physical, direct, she dealt with problems of substantial reality much more readily than with those of abstract principle. She believed in the Prime Directive and her moral code with all her heart, and could not bear to violate them or even test the limits of their flexibility, because she feared that once she stepped off the narrow path, she would plunge down the slippery slope and be lost. The territory at the fringes of her convictions was too unfamiliar to navigate. Terrifying.

The laws of thermodynamics she could fold in every direction she pleased; the vastnesses of space were only space and could be crossed; the guns of sneering enemies could be met with reason, with defiance, with all the mighty forces of war. Solid problems, with solid answers.

But the uncharted questions of ethics in Voyager's unique situation? No backup, no guidance, no directives except those with which she had started. How could she face down her own doubts, shore up her wavering resolution, if she did not follow the only signposts she knew? Starfleet protocol and principles, applied as rigorously away from oversight as she had applied them her entire career. Beyond that lay darkness and chaos and uncertainty. But Chakotay moved in that realm with assurance if not always unerring direction, planting his own trail markers as he went. His guides were natural, inborn or summoned; he could manipulate the unknown with a blackbird's wing and a stone from the river.

"Penny for them," said a voice, light with sly humor, about a meter above her head and to the left. Janeway started and turned. Chakotay stood looking down at her, hands behind his back as was his habit on the bridge, but his expression spoke nothing of duty.

"Oh, I didn't see you come up, Commander. Woolgathering." She looked around into the trees. "I shouldn't let myself sink quite so deep in thought out in the open--"

"Holodeck," he finished for her. "I'm flattered; you did forget it wasn't real. Sorry to remind you." He looked like he wanted to say something more, and a tiny shadow gathered under his brows, but he relaxed again with a smile. "How much more time can you spare?"

"Oh, I suppose I really should get back. But we'll do it the long way. I'd like another canoe ride."

"Any way you like, Captain." Chakotay led her back to where they had left the boat.

"Let me steer," she said when they had paddled a quarter of the distance across the lake. "I think I remember how now."

"I can't deny the captain the right to take the conn," Chakotay said with a mock salute. He faced around so that he sat forward, looking over his shoulder as she turned the canoe around and pointed it back along their course. She flung a paddleful of drips across his back as she switched sides, and he straightened up with an exaggerated expression of shock. "Are you sure you're certified in this class of vessel?" he said with a joking grumble.

"I can paddle circles around you, Mister," she said, and as good as her word, the canoe caught the breeze broadside, drifted in a wide arc and into one of the rafts of floating leaves. "Oh, Lord." Janeway nearly lost her paddle in the thick stems of the huge water lilies. Chakotay tried to shove off from one of the lily pads, but it gave under the pressure and filled with water. She jerked impatiently at her paddle, held fast in the tangle. "Oh, for--"

Chakotay scooted to the middle of the canoe and leaned out to seize the shaft. They heaved on it together until he gave an exuberant yank and a stem suddenly broke. The canoe rolled sharply, then capsized altogether when both of them fell against the side.

The warm green water closed over her. She could breathe, because of the safety interlocks, but all she could see were spiraling stems and the web of sunlight around the edges of the dark circles overhead. Janeway's head broke the surface between two pads, and she looked for Chakotay. Nowhere. The canoe floated nearby, upside down, but he wasn't clinging to it. Intellectually she knew he wasn't drowning, but the flutter of panic started anyway.

"Chakotay!" Janeway trod water and turned around in every direction.

This was something like the emotion she had felt when he and Seska had materialized together in Sickbay, where the captain had run on hearing that her first officer had been wounded in an encounter with the Kazon. The doctor had immediately pronounced the small, ugly burn on Chakotay's side not life-threatening, but the commander's face had been creased in pain as Kes slashed his uniform open and administered a hypo spray. Janeway hadn't really registered then that Seska was hovering nearby with a concern similar to her own, clutching a bag of something she had gathered. Finally the doctor had shooed them out into the corridor, and she had turned to the turbolift, meeting the intent hazel eyes of the Maquis woman. Something disturbing, hungry, had flickered in them, vanishing immediately as Seska moved past her.

Where was he? The edge of the huge pad next to her lifted, and a wet cropped head bobbed up. "What a nuisance these damn things are," said Chakotay, blinking water out of his eyes. "They look pretty on the lake, but I might just delete them anyway, or make them smaller." He caught her expression and lifted his brows in surprise. "Captain, I don't write dangerous programs."

"Really," she replied, both relieved and annoyed. They swam to shore, Chakotay towing the canoe. A dripping trail followed them up the bank, where Chakotay laughed at her while she took her hair down and tried to squeeze out some of the water that was running down her face. He bent over and shook like a dog, sending a fine spray in all directions from his short hair, black and grey like an animal's pelt.

"There, I'm dry," he said, although his clothing was soaked and his boots squelched amusingly. Janeway tucked her hairpins into her sleeve and pulled wet handfuls of her hair together into a thick rope, twisting it. Water splashed down to the bare earth under the shade of dark trees. This part of the scene was a dense grove that came right down to the lake. Some of her hairpins fell and she muttered a curse, stooping to retrieve them. Chakotay knelt and helped her pick them out of the dirt. He handed her the last one, wiped his hands on his jumpsuit, and stood up so close to her that she could have reached out and laid her hand on his chest.

"Sometimes I think I should just cut it all off as short as yours. It would certainly save time shampooing," she said jokingly. Again she was mildly surprised at Chakotay's unsmiling gaze, and at his gesture as he stroked a stray lock back from her cheek.

"Don't do that, ever," he said. "When your hair is silver, you'll have a braid that you can wear like a crown." The slow fingers lingered on her temple. He took a step towards her, and she had to look up to meet his eyes.

Janeway felt a slow, roiling, overturning sensation in her abdomen, simultaneously thrilling and faintly nauseating. It was like fear--it was fear. The smile tightened on her face. Chakotay's lips worked as if he wanted to say something, but all that emerged was the sound of his shallow exhalations. She saw his chest heave.

Janeway could not break the look between them, although she knew she should. Too much coming to the surface in that gaze. Something rose from the depths, from deep within him where it had been drowned, held down, barely visible fathoms under. Deference and protocol flooded away and left him revealed. Losing all concealment, what she had half-sensed in stray looks, in throwaway quips and turns of phrase. He was vulnerable now, exposed, but what he exposed was fire miraculously unquenched. The electricity that she had glimpsed before he had subjected himself to her; the quiet crackle of energy and command. He compelled her, he invited her, he held his hands out empty to ask her to fill them.

His asking, her own inclination; unadmitted longing spilled out and washed over her, transforming her like a baptism. Her lips relaxed, her face lost its wry joking look, her vision narrowed to concentrate only on him. Janeway felt something taking shape within her, coalescing a vague awareness into a certainty, the process transparent to the viewer. He searched her face, slowly, but with growing confidence and warmth, the look a caress without touching, and then he touched her.

Chakotay laid his hands on her forearms and slid them slowly, slowly, up to her elbows. His thumbs nestled in the crooks as he wrapped his fingers around her upper arms and pulled her gently to him.

Janeway stepped forward of her own volition, not needing the urge of his hands. His face inclined to hers, stopping when their lips were a few centimeters apart and his nose nearly touched her cheek. Chakotay inhaled deeply and his eyes half closed. Through the smell of damp material, the warm scent of his body crept over her senses as if the sun was burning through the foliage to dry out their clothing. She shivered, knowing how cold she had been. His physical reality leaped into sudden focus, so sharp she could not imagine how she had avoided the edge so long. A big man, broad-shouldered, substantial, dark. Everything around her, the trees, the water, the earth; illusion, except for him.

Accompanying her awareness of his body was the reaction of her own. She arched her back with an inaudible sigh, her breasts pressing against his ribcage, and let his legs intrude between hers, his hip against her belly. Janeway wondered to find herself like this, laid against him, her movements guided almost by instinct. He was pausing, his mouth just short of brushing hers, but had already opened the gates to her own flood of response. So strong, her conscious thoughts were overwhelmed in a rippling tumble, washed away. Janeway tilted her face a fraction upwards, and Chakotay kissed her.

Her abdominal muscles tightened almost painfully, but she did not pull back. The press of his lips was soft and gentle, not tentative, but almost worshipful. She let him control it for a moment--indeed, she could hardly think to do anything else--and then she slid her hands around his waist and molded her body into his embrace.

"Ah--" he said into her mouth, the first word in several minutes. She silenced him with a forward nudge of her parted lips. So deliberate--but her own desire raced ahead of her mind, flowing rapidly down the slope to evade the inevitable pursuit. She had a sense of hurtling breathlessness and instability as she tried to dodge the full implications of what she was doing, of what she was admitting to him by doing this--

Chakotay vibrated with a groan and took an unsteady step as their tongues met briefly. Pulled back for a moment, returned almost immediately. The kiss was no longer merely gentle. Janeway felt his arms tighten around her and his lips open. She pressed her hands into his back, feeling the muscles shift and tense, tilting her head and opening her mouth to receive his urgent tongue, meet the tremble and velvet dampness of the curve of his lower lip. He turned slightly and something firm pressed into her stomach; the ridge of his hardening penis. Another warm rush, a sinking feeling into her groin. She welcomed him with a surge forward into his mouth, and they locked together in frank carnality. Through the wet coolness of their uniforms: heat seeking heat, joining their breathing and the pulse of their hearts. They were both gasping for air every time their lips parted.

Chakotay planted his feet, shifted his weight and rested his right thigh into the firm swell of her pubis. His hands stroked down her back and cupped her buttocks; lifting her slightly, he pulled her pelvis against him. Janeway gasped out a tiny sigh at the intimate contact. She hadn't felt anything like this in months; a man's warm body as a welcome invader to her sphere of personal privacy. A captain had to remain so distant, even from her first officer. Her first officer, who was moving his lips over hers, sliding soft and hot with definite intention, his eyes shut tight. He had forgotten for the moment everything that had kept him diffident with his captain. Janeway wavered between cold memory and tempting amnesia.

Chakotay's tongue thrust into her mouth in a slow rhythm as he rolled her hips in a similar cadence against his thigh. Her legs were apart, straddling him as she leaned back in the cradle of his hands, reveling in his strength that moved and supported her. He bent her backwards, her hands clasped around his neck. The kiss had started almost innocently, but now he was practically making love to her. If she felt like this while standing and fully clothed, in privacy guarded only by holograms, what if--?

The thought of him inside her, moving as he was moving now, his solid weight spreading her legs apart, pressing deep and withdrawing--

Racing heart, pelvic muscles contracting, her thighs clenching around his to hold the feeling back, somehow imprison it: in vain. Panic exploded simultaneously with release. Janeway cried out in ecstatic terror, wrenching against the restraint of Chakotay's arms, her shuddering legs giving way, sagging and nearly falling. He held her up, but she broke away from him and collided with a tree, clutching it to keep her feet. Good God! Disoriented and gasping, her skin tingling, she crouched against the trunk in horror, abruptly surfacing from her dreamlike state. Chakotay bent over her, reaching to help her up, but when he grasped her arms, he did not raise her. He knelt on the ground, drawing her down with him, passion heating his face, and pulled her limp body upright against his. Did he know why she had stumbled? Her cry must have been unmistakable. Her own face went scarlet with humiliation as Chakotay lowered his head to kiss her again. This had gone so far already that stopping it was almost as bad as continuing-- and if it continued, she knew that they would strip and copulate in the dirt like animals. Or like lovers so swept up in each other that nothing else mattered, that the entire universe seemed illusory by contrast. Transcendence beckoned to her, and Chakotay held her close and gave it flesh. He sensed it; triumph mixed with passion in his expression. Her body was the least of the gifts he wanted. She was about to forget everything that made this dangerous, irresponsible, impossible, and never come up for air again. What else would she drag down to drown with her? So many lives in her hands-- Chakotay's lips brushed hers, and she heaved back and shoved against his chest.

"Stop."

"Wha--what?"

"We have to stop. Now. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it begin." Janeway extricated herself from his arms and rolled to her feet, shaking.

"Kath--" he began, and twisted it into "Captain--?" Still kneeling in the dirt.

"Chako-tay..." Her voice broke and she put her hands over her quivering lips. He got up slowly, confusion and disbelief washing over his features.

They faced each other, uniforms wet and muddy, hair soaking and disarranged, faces flushed and lips swollen with shared kisses. A fresh, hot dampness slicked her inner thighs, and the plain front of his jumpsuit clung so closely that she could see far more details of--of the organ against his belly than she cared to at this moment. Chakotay took a step towards her, reaching out.

She snapped her eyes to his, unable to speak for a moment, shaking her head fiercely, desperately. Chakotay checked himself in mid- motion, his hands outstretched to her. The gesture looked like pleading. She held up her own hands to ward him off, palms out, a trembling barrier. Finally her meaning seemed to register with him. Chakotay exhaled hard, gritting his teeth, and helpless anger began to mix with his confusion.

"But--but I thought-- Why? Will you at least tell me why?"

"I'm...the...captain. I can't cross that line..."

He grimaced and jerked his head, his fists clenching. "Are you telling me I was wrong?" The pain in his voice nearly doubled her over. What should she tell him? What was the truth, what was kindness, what was proper? When she did not speak, he raised his eyes to hers.

Chakotay's mind was open to her again on his face. How long had he worked with her, clashed with her, sat quietly beside her holding that smoldering emotion unspoken within him?

Janeway could barely breathe for a few choking heartbeats, realizing she had half-knowingly matched him, and responded. Her repeated casual touches, her professional and personal admiration, her growing awareness of his physical presence and unselfconscious virility, her odd feelings at learning that Seska had once been his lover; all moved into context. The scattered points whirled in darkness and formed a new constellation, a map of stars in a pattern she had never seen before, a brief vision of awful joy. It was like her fate inscribed in all the elements.

But she could not take it up, not when so many depended on her and her authority, her credibility, her fairness. She was needed, and she had responsibilities that no one else could discharge. If she were to throw herself open to the universe of possibility, she might not emerge the woman and the captain she had been...and that was a fearful risk, and one she was not entitled to take.

"I was wrong," Chakotay said, dead flat and quiet. "I'm sorry."

"No...no..." Janeway whispered. "It was my fault. I led you to believe I would..." Her words trailed off as she saw that they made no impression. He was withdrawing, hunching up as if he had a stomach wound. What could mend the injury, short of casting down all the barriers? She tried again. "Chakotay, you were not wrong. You mustn't think that."

"I haven't got much choice." An edge of bitter humor. "Frankly, having made a mistake is the only thing about this that would make any sense." Even if she took it all back now, if she stepped into his arms again, he would turn away in self-defense. She could not mend the wound at this instant with any remedy. And the blow had been double- edged. They both stood bleeding, and each could offer nothing to comfort the other. This was what her training had told her to do, and it was her duty as captain to take and inflict blows without flinching. If she had needed to order Chakotay to his death for the good of Voyager, she would have found the will and know that she had been right to do so, by every measure she knew. And this was far short of ordering him to his death.

Why then did the sense of wrong seem so much larger than the measure?

Chakotay slowly straightened up; his expression closed down. His eyes left hers and focused in the distance over her shoulder. "I beg your pardon, Captain," he said formally. Janeway closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"And I beg your pardon, Commander," she said with a stiff nod. "I hope that makes us even."

"Yes, ma'am."

Janeway made to shake hands, but thought better of it. The gesture looked noticeably awkward as she made a fist and withdrew it to her chest. How to break the tension? She tried to laugh. "I'm wet, I need to change," she said. And then blushed pink at the double implication.

Chakotay made an indecipherable grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile. "Just leave the holodeck, Captain. All that will disappear when you step outside the door."

Yes, of course, the mud and water were only holographic matter. But not all the effects of this program would dissipate so easily...

"Computer, show door," Janeway said. It appeared ten meters off and she almost ran towards it. "I'll be in my quarters, Commander."

"Yes, Captain," he replied neutrally. The sunlight in the corridor vanished when the portal slid shut behind her.

Only then did she realize that what she had said could have been construed as an invitation. Damn, her tongue was playing tricks on her. No, he hadn't taken it that way--but then neither had she at first. Well, she could hardly go back and set him straight. Janeway squared her shoulders and stepped into the nearest turbolift. She was dry now--at least, her uniform and her hair were--but the pins were all out and she felt rather wild with the long waves tumbling around her face.

In her quarters, Janeway slumped at her desk and stared at piles of PADDs. She doubted that any more of them would be read tonight. The door chime chirped, and her groin and stomach twinged as she half- turned to the sound. If it was him--

"CAPTAIN? I have some more reports that require your attention."

Tuvok rang the door chime for the second time and waited for a response.

"Come--in," he heard, very faintly. The captain's tone suggested illness, and Tuvok stepped inside when the door slid open, expecting to find that her spicy dinner had disagreed with her more emphatically than he had realized. She sat at her desk, her hair down and tangled, her face pale, but with a flush on the cheekbones. Her eyes met his, and he saw them briefly flutter shut. She took a deep breath that she let out with an audible sigh, and glanced away again. A greater contrast from her businesslike jocularity of an hour earlier he could not imagine.

He put the three PADDs that he carried by her elbow. Janeway nodded distractedly, looked up at him again, and lowered her chin to her hand. The signs of disturbance were so salient that Tuvok paused and examined her more closely. Physical illness did not seem to be the cause of her emotional state. She would have gone to Sickbay for treatment in that case. Surely none of the reports, though they spoke of scarcity and potential troubles of all kinds, could have affected Janeway in this unusual manner. She was Human and emotional, but generally dealt with her emotions in a frank, open, admirably logical way. The dishevelment of her hair was puzzling. He nearly asked her what the matter was, then caught a scent in the air, hers, but strong with pheromones. It was similar to her scent during battle--no, it had a different note. Warm, spicy, sexual in a way more powerful than he had ever noted in her presence. The logical cause? Tuvok decided not to inquire further. A Human must experience the absence of loved ones even more acutely than did a Vulcan, and how his captain chose to deal with that absence was certainly a private matter. He cocked an eyebrow, bowed slightly, and dismissed himself.

CHAKOTAY STOOD where his captain had left him, staring at the spot where the door, and she, had faded away.

Every moment he had spent on the actual planet, he had imagined her walking there with him. Every moment he had spent preparing the recordings and the program, he had imagined her enjoying it with him.

And she had; he knew that. Rather more than he had anticipated, in point of fact. He knew that she appreciated natural beauty and that she needed an opportunity to relax; that was really all he had had in mind when summoning her to the holodeck.

But her joy had made her so beautiful that he had spent the entire time with a burning lightness in his chest, a new sun coalescing out of the heavy cloud of sadness, longing, hopelessness he had carried around with him for weeks. What had he felt for her before now? Awe, anger, respect when she had magically called him by name, claimed a trusted comrade as her tool, taken himself and all his people for her own. He had made himself into her officer in the interest of all, but his own interest had quickly taken a turn that amused him, even helped him in dedication to the transition. Indulging himself with a little harmless flirtation brought a bright snap to her eyes to ease her greater worries, and comebacks both slightly awkward and wittily reproving. Frankly, it had been fun, and fascinating, to duel with her on every level, to move a little deeper into the workings of her mind. She had a exquisite sensibility just below the brisk bright surface. And then, with the slow growth of fellowship, the knowledge that she valued his esteem, that his advice was trusted, if not always followed, some critical mass had been reached.

From the first, she had commanded him by right. He hadn't liked that, much. But he had known it in his heart, and wondered at himself that he had offered her so little resistance. Oh, he had his own way of doing things, of dealing with problems out of her sight, but a first officer was supposed to know what deserved the captain's personal attention and what did not. Lieutenant's broken noses or a few liters of milk stolen for soup were well within his purview. He was her guardian, her filter, her right arm.

Not her lover. No. He felt her in his arms again, fragrant; soft skin over tense frame, her mouth-- She had told him to stop and pushed him away.

There was his answer. Chakotay ground his teeth, so hard that tears started in his eyes, and he flung his head up and let his lids close. A few long breaths helped him compose himself, and then he sagged and dropped his head low. He might even have been a little relieved, stopped on the verge of overcommitting himself. Another critical decision taken out of his hands.

Chakotay thought the dark dust would rise in his soul again, but the sun still burned there. Once kindled, its term of life as long as his.

"Computer, show door," he said, and went to his own lonely quarters.

CHAPTER THREE

JANEWAY COULD NOT SLEEP, and stayed up, pacing her quarters still dressed until shortly before she was supposed to rise. At home on Earth, she might have gone for a walk in circumstances like these. Put on a coat, snapped the leash to Bear's collar and headed down the hill to the bay, taking the long way around to pass through the park and let the dog run free. Dim along the path, the occasional lights glowing in the mist, leaves blowing and scudding along the pavement, Bear barking out in front. The dog would run in big loops, forward and back, scouting out ahead of her, returning to urge her on as she walked slowly, wanting the time to pass. The constellations would move over her head, familiar to her from many vantage points. The Dipper that pointed the way to the Pole, the Hunter with his belt and sword, Cassiopeia enthroned.

Janeway leaned on the sill of the viewport and studied the uncharted stars. How often had she taken a walk like that? A fight with Mark? Rare, and they had never kept her up all night. Trouble with Headquarters? Also rare, and starship captains could remain somewhat aloof from Starfleet politics, privileged to keep some distance. When someone had died, perhaps, and she had needed to remember everything possible, run over a life in her mind under the stars. After Tuvok had twice failed to report from his undercover mission. She had made the call to Vulcan herself, admiring the composed beauty of his wife's features, detecting the echo of her own concern, very faintly. She trusted me with her husband's life, Janeway thought, but she...missed him.

Faint movements from next door. It made sense to have the captain and first officer in adjacent quarters in the ordinary run of business. They might need to have a conference, or a private meal, or just maintain a good rapport for efficiency's sake. There was even a communicating door between the sitting areas, though Janeway had seldom used it even when Cavit had occupied the quarters that Chakotay used now. He hadn't been the casually socializing type, and had liked his privacy off duty. She had put a bookshelf against the door some time ago.

How many hours would have to pass before she could face her first officer again? Would she run into him at breakfast or another meal before she had decided what to say? Normal conversation. Pretend it never happened. Dismiss it. How?

"You're a Starfleet captain. You know how to deal with personnel problems," she said aloud. This wasn't a personnel problem. Janeway could still feel his arms around her, feel the heat of certainty climbing through every nerve and vein as Chakotay kissed her, and she kissed him back. The wave of raw emotion nearly sickened her, and she sat down, dizzy.

The manual would call for a transfer as soon as possible. Impossible. Ignore the damn manual, she told herself. What's your solution, Captain? Go for a walk, and figure it out. She sprang up again, and paced her quarters.

He was furious with her, and from his point of view, he had the right to be. For a few minutes, they had been telling each other the absolute truth, and had both given in to it, mind, spirit, and body. The ecstasy of discovery, like a new law of the cosmos revealed. And then she had told him that they could not use that knowledge. It was as if a way home had lain open before them, and she had deliberately closed it. Of course he was angry. He wasn't the kind who put the letter of the law above his convictions or affections, and there wasn't even a regulation against fraternization between officers--just her own conviction that this would be too dangerous, too upsetting to their balance. Captain and first officer, who should be a check on each other, neither too distant nor too close.

She stopped her pacing and held the jamb of her bedroom door, leaning against it for support, closing her eyes. Dizzy again, she let Chakotay's hands move over her once more in memory. A memory only, of how she had responded to nothing more than a look, and a gentle grasp.

And he had kissed her, so softly, the way he spoke, just to tell her something. Not to overwhelm her, or impress her, or even to seduce her, but to seal a pledge the look in his eyes had already made. She had known its meaning, and accepted it the way it was meant, because she had meant the same. Dear God...

Janeway was trembling, her head shaking in slow denial, but her mind leaped ahead, relentless in pursuit of the truth. Wasn't this a physical attraction? They had been charged from the spill and the swim, laughing, and then this had been almost an accident-- No. She was still, and lectured herself. She couldn't call it only lust, or even say it had started that way. Chakotay was a handsome man, but he stayed camouflaged in a quiet mask of thought, mature and grave, a silver- backed veteran. He had startled her the first time he really smiled. Intelligent, humorous, unpredictable, subversive, feral. It wasn't lust that let a woman who knew the difference nearly make love with a man she couldn't have. If that was all it had been, paradoxically, they'd have called a halt before it had ever happened. They'd both had some experience, after all; they weren't adolescents. She was a Starfleet captain, and he had the same training, no matter how worn down by Maquis laxness. And he was private and concealed, like Tuvok in a way, though he could let all his feelings out and be vulnerable.

She remembered his stricken face just before Seska had disappeared. I can't imagine how I ever loved you, the Cardassian had said, and Janeway knew that was the worst possible thing one could say to a man like him. Even if she had only seduced him for his secrets, and he must have been thinking along those lines by then, Seska had cut his heart out in front of her. He had never recovered, no matter what he thought of Seska now, and he would revisit that wound over and over; it might never heal. Perhaps she was dead--who was so dead as one who denied the pull of another life?

Janeway opened her eyes with a silent gasp, the tears welling up, but she did not let them fall. What right did she have to pity him, who had just slashed him open again in a way far worse? Seska and he had parted long before and the emotions on either side were uncertain. But before Janeway had told him to stop, he had known they were in perfect synchrony, that the ripples that had refracted between them for months were about to combine and amplify into a single great wave. He had laid his dreams under her feet, and thought she had gathered them up in her arms. This was probably the first time he had reached out to anyone since Seska had left. Chakotay, however unpredictable he might be, was guarded enough to keep his thoughts veiled and his hands to himself, unless something greater than his instincts and training prompted him. He had taken a risk because he had known he was right, and he was angry that she could see the same thing as wrong, especially after she had proven to him that it was mutual. How could she show him why she thought the way she did? Would he ever understand? The tightness in her chest, the burning of her eyes, the awful roiling of her guts--she felt so sick she wanted to pass out, end the pain, if only for a little while. Janeway squeezed her fingers on the door jamb so tightly they hurt, and focused on the sensation to pull the ache out of her core, look at it from the outside. It was like lead wrapped around her heart, molten and crushing. Tuvok had taught her, by example and instruction, how to take an emotion and disassociate it from herself, remove at least some of its influence in order to function normally in crisis. Not a permanent solution, but a necessary one. Slowly she let herself relax, and slowly her breathing evened out, and she released her grip and turned away into the sitting area. Hands on the back of her lounge, she bowed her head for a moment, then raised it to look out the viewport, her eyes stinging, but her vision unblurred again.

She could not deny the truth, and she had to use that realization to deflect it from its goal. A scientist needed to see clearly and not substitute wishful thinking for honest analysis. Her jaw clenched. She couldn't fall in love with an officer under her command, have a sexual relationship with him, and expect that all would be smooth sailing. Especially not in Voyager's unique situation. This crew functioned in a delicate balance, and would even if it were one hundred percent Starfleet. The isolation, the relative privation, the constant danger put a terrible strain on the best officers she had. Janeway stood upright and put her hands on her hips. Chakotay held the key to the potentially most disruptive part of her crew. Any perceived tilt or bias could take the whole ship down. The arrangement had been working as it stood. She couldn't change it without risk, and the only justification for risk was the welfare of her ship and crew. Not her personal wishes, not her deepest longing for a vision of transcendence. She closed her eyes briefly, seeing too much behind the lids. If there was any way to return to stability without living a lie, she had to find it. No one knew about this but themselves, and no one would ever know. She trusted herself to find a solution, and she trusted Chakotay to know his duty, even in the face of his anger. Or his love.

She paced her quarters.

...THE WIND ALWAYS ROSE in this place just before dawn. The first light was showing on the edge of the sky when she came and rubbed her head against his side for him to scratch her ears. Her thick rough fur bristled up on her neck as he did so, and she growled in mock aggression and took his hand playfully between her teeth. He allowed her to tug at it, avoiding any sudden moves, for her fangs were sharp, and she was not a pet. Her real anger he did not want to know. She released his hand and sniffed at him, and he knew she could smell another's scent lingering on his skin.

"Elder sister, it is good to see you." The sun rose, and they sat together, her presence calming him. Her yellow eyes told him her thoughts. When he finally began to speak, she already knew what he was going to say, but listened, patient as the rocks on which they sat.

He had been skirting around the edges of realization too long. To pour all of his emotions out left him drained, but lighter of soul, if not happy. He was not accustomed to deceiving others, and he could not tell the truth if he did not admit it to himself. Truth was dangerous, but comfortable lies even more so. He tore open his spirit like earth, digging for the source of the eruption: a spring of water, heated by unseen fires, that had finally burst out on the surface. Of course he had known, had dismissed the attraction as both inevitable and impossible, had pretended not to notice his own folly in encouraging himself in it, had not wanted to part fire and water and cut off the soul-nourishing warmth. Sunken deeper and deeper into self-indulgence, happily drowning himself. Gods, the price he would pay for that-- His anger was not only at rejection, but at himself for ever having laid himself open to it. Hadn't he been fool enough for one year yet?

She nudged his side, and he straightened up to look at the sun. "I know," he replied to his guide's unspoken words. "I was not a fool to want to be with her."

He could weave an image of her, slender, upright, the sun an aureole on her hair. The strength of her curving bones, the blue-depth of her eyes reflecting the sky. He gained a shred of comfort at the same time he rocked back and forth in sudden misery, covering his face to shield himself from the light. When he looked up again, she would still be there. She would never disappear, and her warmth would shine on him every day, from far away. But he could not touch her warmth, or offer her any of his own, or accompany her below her horizon. Every night would be dark and cold and spent alone.

"Elder sister, tell your brother what he can do. Tell him what his path must be, if the way he was meant to take is closed. Where can a traveler find rest if every dwelling is shut against him?"

She yawned toothily and stretched, then paced around him, circling him four times in blessing. The risen sun warmed him. On the ground, she scratched a moment with her paw, then looked up at the sky and the sun, and at him again. She touched him with her nose, and trotted off.

On the ground, she had made two rough circles, one overlapping the other, with a line indicating movement. He studied the figure a long time, memorizing it, then drew a finger across it to break the circles open...

THE IMAGE FADED gradually and he was in his quarters again, sitting on the floor.

Chakotay rose and gathered the components of his medicine bundle; the river stone, the blackbird's wing, the akoonah that aided the concentration; bound them up again in the skin wrapping and replaced it in its hiding place. He removed a smaller drawstring pouch from the same cabinet and said a prayer before opening it and taking out its contents to lay on the floor before him.

A dried mushroom. A knotted scrap of multiaxial cable that he had found in Engineering. Two long hairs, wound up in a circle and tied. Again he was building his medicine, slowly, to replace what he had lost in the destruction of his ship, and these items had each offered themselves when they had been necessary. He smiled at the chestnut hairs, and remembered how they had shone on the sleeve of his uniform at the end of a bridge shift. Of course he had known whose they were, but how he had been blind to their meaning he could not imagine.

The smile faded, and he held the little circlet on his thumb. Now that he knew its meaning, its power was uncomfortably strong. Strong medicine could accomplish much, but it could destroy as well, and required discipline on the part of the user. He already denied himself animal flesh as food, a practice that had strengthened him for years, but with such a talisman in his possession, something more was required. He had been too lax with himself where his physical hungers had been concerned, even though his body had been fasting for months. The hunger was still there, and he had only starved himself to the point of famine, when he should have given up the need for sustenance in the first place. He hadn't missed meat at all, and he shouldn't miss anything else he could not have. He thought about the sign that his guide had given him, put all the items back in the pouch, and went to get his newest stone.

It had come from the real waterfall, just at the base where the stream ran smooth again after the tumble of the terraces. He had wrapped it up carefully once he had discovered which one to take, had thanked the river, and tucked the stone into his uniform. The security guards had watched quietly, not disrupting the process although they had not understood what he was doing. One thing about Starfleet and its code of noninterference; it fostered respect even for the inexplicable. He would have been glad to explain if they had asked, but they had not.

The stone was dark and smooth, slightly oval like a bird's egg, and flat on one side. A fine-grained basalt, said one part of his mind. The last remnant of a volcanic flow that had cooled a hundred million years ago. He weighed it on his palm, the curved side down, fitting perfectly into the hollow of his hand. This was a very good stone. He had had the feeling that it would be. Chakotay picked up his engraving tool and sat at the table to work. An area of dust formed slowly around him on the surface as he scratched and blew, scratched and blew. Two circles, one overlapping the other, with a line that indicated movement. One around the other; the fixed center, the orbit of the satellite, bound to its path. Or a comet, disturbed in its wanderings, drawn in to the mass of a sun, melting in fiery glory for brief months, then speeding away into the outer darkness, never to return. He finished the symbol, spat on the stone and rubbed it to remove all the dust, cupped it in his hand again. Yes, it belonged in the pouch. Chakotay took all the items out again and laid them in a square, four directions marked. The scrap of cable, the mushroom, the circlet of hair. The stone completed the arrangement, and he stared at it for a long time. He hoped he would dream tonight, as he needed guidance.

The sheets were cool against his skin as he slid between them, his own body the only warmth that touched them. A thought intruded and hung before him, of another body, a tense softness, a warmth through wet clothing. Carefully he isolated the image, froze it, removed it from his mind as much as he was able. But he still imagined a slim woman curled with him, her long hair loose over her shoulders. Not her. He could not let himself think of her. The truth was overwhelming-- Someone else. Wide hazel eyes, not blue, a toothy smile.

Seska. It took him a long time to go to sleep, and his dreams were dark to him.

TWO HOURS to breakfast, and no sleep. Janeway opened her door and turned right instead of left to avoid passing Chakotay's quarters. She would take another lift to Deck Six and run a holoprogram...no, she did not want a holoprogram. But at least she could take a walk while she knew she would not encounter him. If only she had a dog to unleash and let run with her. The long curving corridors led her in circles to every part of her ship.

The night shift in Engineering was not too surprised to see her, and Carey asked her to look at the power efficiency readouts from the nacelles and warp core. Gradually declining, the change noticeable even from last week. She nodded and moved on. The dining hall, deserted, and the cargo bays, Kes's garden with fruiting plants and vines. Sickbay, quiet and humming, the doctor resting as a collection of bits in memory crystals. Did he note the passage of time and wait for someone to speak the words to bring him into the world of light again? He might be happiest when alone with himself and the library banks, unconscious and incorporeal. An advantage to be able to turn oneself off completely and be impervious to all stimuli.

The bridge, Rollins dozing slightly on watch, shaking himself apologetically, sitting down again at her gesture. She went to her ready room and picked up a photograph of a man and a dog from a table, studied it for a while, and put it back. The distance behind her grew too long. And in front of her? An even longer void. Could she cross it alone? The void grew in her, the emptiness solid and black, drawing her entirely into itself, a singularity with no escape. But she must resist the pull of loneliness, of proximity, of inclination. Could she hover between the two, giving way to neither despair nor an illusion of joy? Would the tidal forces shatter her? To serve her crew, she must maintain the balance. Where her ship was concerned, she could never be empty or powerless. Janeway put her fingertips to the bulkhead next to the viewport, then laid her palm flat against it and closed her eyes. All the lives with which she was entrusted, cradled in the thin white shell of graceful metal. The captain of the Voyager smiled, and returned to her quarters to start her day.

CHAPTER FOUR

"THIS IS THE LAST thing I wanted to find on my desk this morning, Dalby. The...very...last...thing."

Kenneth Dalby looked at the PADD under his nose, and then up at Chakotay's thunderous face. His former captain's eyes were slightly bloodshot, dark-circled, and his whole posture more openly threatening than Dalby had seen in a long time, but his voice was soft, quiet and dead even. Dalby pulled himself the rest of the way out of the cargo compartment in which he was crouching and stood up, straightening his uniform and surreptitiously nudging the compartment hatch closed with the heel of his right boot.

"Uhh...what is it, Commander?"

"It's a complaint. Against you. You are damn lucky this came to me, and not to Lieutenant Tuvok or to...the captain."

"A complaint?"

"If I have to tell you what this is about..."

"But...hey, I was just testing my luck. And she thought it was funny."

"Were you joking?"

"Uhh..."

"You think that kind of remark is a joke, do you? She may have tried to laugh it off at the time, but when we got back on board she filled out all the forms and filed them. And this was the first thing I picked up when I came on duty today. Thanks a hell of a lot, Crewman." Chakotay's voice was growing harsher. "I knew this was not going to be the best day of my life, and you have managed to guarantee that beyond the shadow of a doubt."

"Geez, what's up your-- I mean, is something wrong?"

"You are. Here. Read this, and then if you have anything to add, I guess I'll have to hear it." Chakotay shoved the PADD into Dalby's hand, stood back, and folded his arms.

"So I'm convicted already, huh?"

"You're not on trial. The most you're going to face is a reprimand. From the captain, that is, if I have to take it to her. From me--"

"You're judge, jury, and executioner?"

"Read it."

Dalby grimaced and looked down at the PADD. It held only three paragraphs of text, and he scanned them and looked up. "OK, that's what I said. So what's the big frigging deal?"

"Think about it for one second from her point of view. She's on an away mission in an unfamiliar, possibly dangerous area, and a crewman she barely knows comes up and compliments her on her fruit-picking style, and in the next breath suggests-- I'll quote-- 'Let's blow off the security guards, get that damn uniform unzipped all the way and you and me can have some real shore leave, sweetheart.'"

"I never touched her. She kinda stared at me, and then she laughed and headed off. OK, I guess I might have scared her a little."

"You did. She's Starfleet. She's not used to being propositioned on duty. The Maquis way of doing things isn't appropriate in...that kind of operation."

"Worked once or twice," Dalby muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. OK, I'm sorry. I'm real sorry. I was so far outta line I won't ever ask anyone to have sex with me for the rest of my life, 'cause this is frigging Starfleet and they issue duranium chastity belts along with the uniforms. I couldn't be expected to know that, sir, not having gone to the frigging Academy. I'm just ordinary scum who likes to sleep with a woman once in a while. You didn't used to be such a tightass on that subject, not when Seska got in the mood--ouggh!" The collar of his shirt had twisted so tight in Chakotay's grip that Dalby could barely breathe. The other fist jerked back, halted, and then he was shoved roughly away, the whole movement so fast he had no chance to respond. Dalby hit the wall, gasping, his own fists up, but Chakotay turned his face to the side and dropped his hands, staring at the floor, or at some indeterminate point in the air. He almost seemed to be asking for retaliation, laying himself deliberately open to it, but Dalby knew better than to take him up on it, whatever his motive. They paused for a few moments, then Chakotay started to laugh in short hard bursts through a set grimace, a sound that prickled every hair on Dalby's head. The last time he had heard that laugh, there had been a lot of dead bodies in the area... The laugh broke off into a hiss through the teeth, and then silenced itself into long breaths. Dalby stared in fascination, his heart beating in furious thumps.

Chakotay turned to him in a moment with the soft even voice again. "You write up that apology, and make it a good one. This isn't just a work problem--she can't get off this ship, and neither can you, and I won't tolerate anyone making anyone else uneasy in a captive situation."

"Uh...uh...yes, sir."

Chakotay closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. "No one said you couldn't have...a relationship, but pick your targets a little more carefully. And change your style unless you know who you're dealing with. There are a lot of differences between an Academy graduate and a former freedom fighter."

"You're the expert on both, I guess."

Chakotay stared at him so long he dropped his gaze. "Just get that written. I want it by 1700, we're going to deliver it together, and then I want you to stay out of her way for a while. You don't have any reason to hang around Stellar Cartography in the first place, and if you do, tell Torres to send someone else, and tell her I said so."

"Why not just tell everyone I'm a pervert for hitting on Jenny Delaney? Then they can stay out of my way."

"Because if the captain ever hears about you and your crude manners, you'll get a lot more than a remedial training course, I guarantee you, and I'm going to have to administer it. Not to mention that even if she'd agreed, going off alone in that place would have been--stupid. Grow a few brain cells. You can nip it in the bud, or you can go for major surgery later. Your choice." Chakotay was quiet and controlled again, but his eyes were narrow, his shoulders tense. "Damn you, Dalby. I'm spending my credit on things like this. Don't let me down." He took a deep breath and suddenly looked very tired, although it was only 0815.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Chakotay? You look sick."

"I wish I was." A sardonic chuckle.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You've got your orders, so carry them out. 1700 hours, or this goes straight to Janeway. Don't make me do that."

"Yes, sir." Chakotay stalked off down the corridor, and Dalby looked after him, scratching his chin.

"Damn," he said to himself when the first officer was out of sight. "And I thought I needed to get laid." He kicked the hatch open and slid back into the cargo compartment. "Well, it's my lucky day all around, I guess. He didn't spot the whiskey still I've got in here."

"WHERE ARE WE off to today, Captain?" asked Tom Paris breezily as Janeway came up the steps from the ready room to the command level of the bridge.

"No course changes, Mr. Paris." She put a hand on his arm as she passed the pilot's station, and he grinned at her. Even as an inmate in a Federation rehabilitation colony, he had had that irrepressibly flirtatious air. Her smile faltered, and she passed him quickly and headed for her command chair. Paris turned and looked up at her with puzzlement, but she pretended to study her monitor, not seeing the display. The chair to the left of her was empty, but after lunch, Chakotay would have bridge duty--could she find some reason to be down in Engineering or in her ready room all afternoon? It would be worth some lost work time to put off the eventual, inescapable meeting as long as she could. She had even skipped breakfast in the dining room and eaten a replicated omelet in her ready room despite all the fresh fruit Neelix had to serve. In another twenty-four hours, both of them might have gained some distance. Obvious tension in front of others would disturb the whole ship, and she hoped to spare Chakotay's feelings as much as possible. "Janeway to Torres," she said.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I want to review those energy output readings with you some time today. Can you reserve the period after 1300?"

"Sure. When did you see those? I was just writing up a report."

"I had a long night. See you at 1300."

"Aye, Captain. Torres out." Janeway jumped up and paced the length of the command level, idly scanning the displays on every wall. Perfectly routine, nothing that required her attention. For once, she chafed at smooth efficiency, and almost wished for a problem to engage her attention--no, not a problem, but some absorbing occupation, a scientific puzzle...

"Captain," said Tuvok, frowning at his panel. "I am obtaining some unusual readings from an asteroid belt in a solar system ahead."

"Yes?"

"They are peculiarly devoid of certain elements, and are perhaps worthy of study."

Janeway smiled in amused gratitude. "Tuvok, you're a mind reader."

"In the literal sense, that is true, but I have no contact with your thoughts at present."

"Just an expression. Let's take a look." She stepped up to the security console and began to tap at the display. "You're absolutely right. This is fascinating. Barely a trace of heavy metals such as uranium. What could have extracted them so efficiently? I'd expect at least--"

"Captain!" said a cheerful voice as the turbolift doors opened. Neelix bustled in and came around the railing to her. "I really must speak to you about--my, you're looking lovely today--is that a new hairstyle?--we've got all this wonderful fresh food, and Mr. Chell just told me that that an old Bolian harvest festival fell last week--"

"Great," muttered Harry Kim from the Ops station.

"--and what more excuse do we need for a celebration? Morale's been a little low, if you don't mind my saying, and I really think we could have stayed longer at the gardens--"

"Mr. Neelix," said Janeway with a smiling edge in her voice, "I am very busy and simply cannot discuss this with you in any depth. Please find...the first officer and make your proposal to him." She stepped down a level and sat in her command chair.

"He's difficult to pin down today, Captain. Everywhere I go, they say he's just left, and when I call him directly, he's always in the middle of a conversation and cuts me off. Now you are much easier to find, since you're mostly here--"

"And also in the middle of a conversation. He'll eat lunch eventually, Neelix. Just go back to the dining room. Now about that asteroid belt, Mr. Paris--"

"Course laid in, Captain," the pilot replied.

"You're learning, Lieutenant. Engage at Warp Four. Tuvok, I want the forward sensors on maximum, and feed your readout to my monitor." She saw Neelix shrug and return to the turbolift, and felt a little twinge of guilt, but perhaps Chakotay would appreciate dealing with something out of the routine as well. A quiet day might be an intolerable one.

"I'M NOT the captain, B'Elanna," said Chakotay with as much patience as he could muster. "And even if I were, I couldn't create new engineers out of air. I spoke to her yesterday morning, and she was sympathetic, but every department on Voyager is short-handed, and you'll just have to make do."

Torres said nothing, the faint hiss of her laser probe audible in the enclosed corridor, but he knew she was only biding her time. The chief engineer slid out of the accessway above him, landed like a cat and put down her probe with a clang on the grated floor. She reached for another tool and glanced up at him while calibrating it, her dark brows drawn together under her high forehead. "Commander," she said, her voice more even than the Klingon ire in her expression implied, "I don't even have enough people to keep up the standard maintenance schedule. We've had so many crises--bio-neural gel packs getting the flu, dumping the warp core and reinitializing it--I've got you to thank for that one--that no one's been available to do the rounds. I'm doing grunt work myself in spare moments, as you see. This ship's going to fall apart from sheer neglect if I don't get some more people soon."

"You're exaggerating," said Chakotay, and almost managed a smile. They were fifteen years apart in age and had known each other only two years, but they had seen so much danger together in the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone that he felt the familiarity of old war veterans with her.

"Not by much," she replied, put all her tools in her carrying case and picked it up. "Jonas!" she snapped at a crewman. "Go up there and see if you can get those connections unfrozen. I've got to check some more conduit junctions."

"Sure, Lieutenant," the man replied, looked obliquely at Chakotay, and hauled himself up the accessway Torres had just vacated. She turned to move along the service corridor, and Chakotay held himself to one side as she squeezed past him, his big frame a handicap in the cramped spaces above Engineering.

"B'Elanna, the ship is running superbly, considering the conditions. All that practice on my old clunker is paying off. And the captain told me you were doing wonders."

Finally Torres smiled, with a hint of apology, glancing quickly over her shoulder. She set her toolbox down again under the hatch of a Jeffries tube.

"I always dreamed of working on a ship like this." Torres gazed up into the tangle of conduits and circuits above her head. "All the time I was suffering in the Academy, the main thing that kept me going was the thought of being assigned to a state-of-the-art vessel like Voyager. Not one of those giant Galaxy-class things like the Enterprise. She's so sleek and clean and fast--when she's in tune--and it's a damn shame I don't have enough people to maintain her properly. The nacelles are taking a terrible beating, and I'd put her in spacedock for a month if I could. Can't you do something, Commander?" Her tone was more deferential now, and Chakotay realized with a pang that Torres had not called him by name for a long time. The restless half-Klingon was following Starfleet protocol to the letter; the field commission and the heavy responsibility on her shoulders had matured and settled her nature. He had encouraged her in that direction, but the difference in her was so profound that their change of situation had never seemed so permanent. Torres seized a pair of handholds and disappeared up the Jeffries tube. In a moment her voice floated down to him.

"Look at these oxidized O-rings! No one's lubricated these in months! Might as well throw them away! And I can't keep replicating replacements indefinitely--"

"All right, Chief Engineer," he said, with emphasis on the title. "I'll ask the captain if someone can transfer from Security or Ops. I haven't heard Tuvok complaining about insufficient personnel, so perhaps he can spare one or two." He regretted the note of sarcasm in his voice as soon as he heard himself speak.

Torres slid out of the tube, wiped her hands on her jumpsuit, and glared at him. "Captain Janeway wouldn't play favorites." She snatched up a PADD from her tool box.

"No, of course not," Chakotay replied evenly. "Starfleet captains are more carefully picked and better trained than to indulge themselves like that. Even if she and Tuvok have been together a long time." He kept his face neutral. Torres wasn't the person to show such feelings to, not any more.

"He'd be her Number One now if you hadn't come along, wouldn't he?" Torres made an entry on the PADD, keeping her eyes on the screen.

Chakotay tried to imagine Tuvok mediating between Maquis and Starfleet, forming the connection between crew and command, shuffling people around the ship like spare parts while trying to keep their feelings and abilities in mind. "I wouldn't wish this job on Tuvok," he said aloud, and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.

"You're the only person who could do it," said Torres, a flash of the old camaraderie showing through the new reserve of the Starfleet lieutenant. "The captain's lucky you didn't get killed on that suicide run of yours. None of the Maquis would have cooperated if you hadn't been backing her up. I know I wouldn't have. She'd have had a mutiny in the first week, and I might have led it--well, me and Seska." She laughed shortly, then broke off and glanced up at him. Chakotay felt his jaw tighten, but forced a slight smile. He was going to have to get used to the surge of contradictions that flooded his brain at the mention of that name. Whatever her faults, she had been easy to talk to--

"Hell of a way to win a battle," Torres continued, "using your own ship like a photon torpedo, but I appreciate it for one. If you hadn't saved Voyager from the Kazon, I wouldn't have had the chance to work on this beautiful ship or to get to know Captain Janeway."

"Yes, she is beautiful," Chakotay replied, looking at the bulkhead where his hand rested, and pausing a long time before he continued. "I knew Janeway deserved backing up before I really got to know her. This is her ship, and our chances in the Delta Quadrant would be even slimmer if the captain couldn't count on her crew to obey her."

"Most of it, anyway. It's amazing that you can work with someone a long time and not really know her. I thought Seska was my friend..."

"And she's gone and left you short an engineer," said Chakotay, smiling sourly. "You'll just have to hope no more of your staff turn out to be Cardassian agents disguised as Bajorans."

"Urrgh. Just because you're my superior officer doesn't mean I have to laugh at your warped jokes, does it?"

"No, that's not in the manual. But you never laughed at them anyway."

"Thinking about Seska doesn't exactly put me in a cheerful mood. She was lying all along, to all of us. She made all of the Maquis look bad, and what she did to you--" Torres broke off. "Well, the captain must have thought--" she resumed, but stopped again at the look on his face. "Sorry, Commander. It's none of my business what the captain thought." She busied herself with her tools. "Huh," she muttered. "I hope the bi-- the Kazon-lover likes working on their ugly hulks. Can't even replicate food and water--"

"If she's still alive..."

"If they killed her, it's her own damn fault," Torres said, jumping up again. "Who the hell did she think she was? Negotiating with the Kazon as if she were the captain? How was she going to keep that quiet? Is that typical Cardassian thinking? What kind of training does the Obsidian Order give its spies, anyway?"

"I expect they get a lot more experience in subterfuge than in straight thinking, frankly," he replied, smiling at Torres' passion. "Not to mention everything we saw them do in the Demilitarized Zone. But she told me and the captain that she was working for Voyager. She was just doing things her own way, in her view. What her ultimate aims were, I don't know."

"Unbelievable," growled Torres. "But she always did have a knack for getting her own way." Chakotay thought for a moment she was referring to Seska's highly visible, and successful, campaign to get into his bed, and he gritted his teeth, but Torres would not have mentioned that to him. She hadn't approved, but had never blamed him for his weakness. Seska certainly could be persuasive... He frowned as a sudden connection was made.

"Did she ever pressure you into anything?" He knew Torres had not been the only culprit in Engineering to participate in the disastrous clandestine test of the Sikarian space-folding device, but she had steadfastly refused to name the others, taking all the responsibility, and the weight of the captain's wrath, on herself. And he knew she regarded Janeway nearly as an icon.

"I've always made my own decisions," said Torres, but she dropped her gaze. "You told me often enough I had to be accountable for my actions. I guess it finally sank in, now that I'm chief engineer on a real starship."

Chakotay took a deep breath, his feelings powerfully torn. Regret, that his own influence had not been enough, and paradoxical satisfaction that it had at least laid the foundation for her progress, when she was ready to accept it. The student was independent of him now, and had moved on to a new teacher. A more advanced level? His pride smarted at that, and would not admit it, but Janeway had much more in common with Torres than he had ever had. The constant physical intensity, the relentlessly practical and analytical mind, the emotions close to the surface but supported by great intelligence and hunger for knowledge. In many ways, Torres was a rawer, younger Janeway, and he could not have wished her a better model. He had a mental image of an adolescent bird with feathers newly replacing down, flying to join the sun, and he was unaccountably sad at the joyous event. Let her go, Chakotay, he told himself. She's not yours any more, if she ever was. If anyone ever was. He put his hand on Torres' wiry shoulder, a gesture uncommon with him, and smiled puckishly at her to cover his emotion. "Well, whatever kind of training the Obsidian Order gives its operatives, at least they make decent engineers."

"Not half as good as she thought she was," smirked Torres. "But I could put her back to work lubing O-rings, if you got her for me."

"Now who's making warped jokes?"

"You're right. You've been a really bad influence on me, you know." They laughed together.

"Janeway to Torres."

"Yes, Captain?" Torres' eyes left his as she answered, and Chakotay turned away.

"I'm going to need some samples from this asteroid belt, B'Elanna. Can you prepare a containment field? I'll be down in Engineering a little earlier than planned."

"Aye, Captain. Sounds a lot more entertaining than what I'm doing right now." Torres chuckled, but Chakotay stood still, his back to her, tightly grasping one rung of the access ladder that led down from the junction. Janeway's next words were unexpected, and his fingers whitened.

"Have you seen Chakotay today?"

"Yes, he's right here--"

"Oh. Well, that's all right. Ah...I'll be down in a few minutes, once we've fixed transporter coordinates for the samples. Janeway out." Chakotay heard a small snort of puzzlement from Torres, but she made no comment, to his intense relief.

"I'd better get out of here. I've got a lot of territory to cover today," he said after a moment. "Carry on, Lieutenant." He swung onto the ladder and climbed down out of the narrow dark service corridor, emerging into the main Engineering area once he had reached the bottom. A high open space, dominated by the coruscating glow of the warp core and the technicians moving about, where he could breathe with a little more ease.

This is Janeway's ship, and that power is harnessed to her command, Chakotay thought. Every electron of the plasma flow, every soul under one hand. And that was the way it should be. He stretched out his own hands and looked at them; square-palmed, straight-fingered, brown and capable. Capable of anything he put his mind to. He had put them in the service of this ship, and that could be a lifetime's charge. If that choice meant that the people who once focused on him had found a new loyalty, well, hell, that was the whole point of the exercise. He had wanted his crew to see the light the way he had done, to realize that Janeway was the best hope they had. She was like the center of a solar system, a star that bent the planets into orbit. Torres might have taken a little longer to fall into line, but she felt the same way he did. Well, maybe not exactly the same way... Chakotay chuckled sardonically, took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, exercising the discipline of thought native to him, and when he opened them again, he had a faint half-smile of surface peace, and he went on his way.

"FASCINATING. Oh, if I could publish papers on the things we find here--I'd be typing from now until retirement." Janeway peered at the display on the console in front of her, and then at the sample of asteroidal rock slowly disintegrating in a particle beam in a containment field. "B'Elanna, increase the intensity a notch--ten percent--that's good."

"What have you found?"

"Mining, if I don't miss my guess. A highly sophisticated form of it. I haven't any idea how this was done, but the technology must have been as advanced as the Caretaker's."

"Mining?" Torres laughed.

"An almost complete extraction of the heavier metals--rare elements. Less than one millionth the amounts in that belt than one would expect in a solar system of this type. There are very faint traces of energy that suggest the metals were dematerialized within the rock and transported out--but our transporters couldn't do anything of the kind. It would require selective control on the molecular level, choosing what they wanted and leaving others behind."

"Then it wasn't the Kazon, or anyone we've encountered. None of them even have transporter technology, even the relatively advanced civilizations. The Sikarians can get around by folding space, but they don't have the basics of dematerialization circuitry or pattern buffers--" Torres trailed off and Janeway saw the animated light die from her face.

"No, they don't," Janeway replied, and both of them were silent for a moment, side by side at the console. The Sikarians. She wished once again, as she had uncounted times, that Councilor Gath had never invited her to enjoy the pleasures of his beautiful planet. He had entertained the entire crew in his city, tried to heap her with gifts of sweetmeats and dresses, had even cast his eyes over her in a way that left no doubt he would like to offer her even more. And she had responded to his courteous, insinuating interest, unable to simply put him off although she had no intention of accepting that particular offer. A rumor had started almost immediately, promulgated by someone with an ax to grind, perhaps, that she was infatuated with the man. Chakotay had heard it soon after their arrival at Sikarius, for he had mentioned it to her in light of a report on morale after he had returned from a visit to Engineering. She had laughed and said something lightly dismissive in response, to which he had reacted oddly. Janeway had been surprised at the tremor, something like disgust, before he had smiled crookedly and made a joke. But she had hardly seen him for two days after that, except at briefings, and then his manner had been short and irritable. He had practically told her, in front of the entire senior staff, to violate the Prime Directive and Sikarian law to obtain the space- folder. But although the apparent breach had seemed to heal, perhaps Sikarius still preyed on his mind as it did on hers. Her rapport with Torres, so painfully found, so painfully strained, only emerged intermittently now.

"Whoever it was, they must have obtained enough uranium alone to build thousands of old-fashioned reactors, if that is what they did with it," Janeway said when the silence threatened to stretch out too far.

"Why would anyone who could mine it like that want to build reactors?"

"It was a long time ago, I think, and the current mix of technology in the Delta Quadrant is peculiar. As if bits of knowledge had filtered in from outside, and there had not been a normal progress of science research. Someone might have had this device and not much else. But that system had no habitable planets, and never had, so they came from elsewhere to do their work."

"Yes, this is a pretty strange place," said Torres. "It doesn't seem normal. I--I didn't always get along so well at home, but I wish I was back there anyway." She paused and looked at Janeway. "I wish I was back at home, but serving on Voyager."

Janeway smiled at her chief engineer, and they turned back to their consoles.

"LOOK, MOST OF THEM are just unqualified. Criminals, adventurers, people who couldn't make it in the Federation, Bajoran refugees who never had a decent education--"

"So who would you rather fill the vacancies with? Kazon? Talaxians?"

There was a burst of laughter around the table. Chakotay realized that the speakers had not seen him come into the dining room, and began to move around the corner into their line of sight.

"At least the first officer used to be Starfleet." Chakotay stopped in mid-stride.

"Now he's more-Starfleet-than-thou. Probably thinks he has something to prove, because he does. He brought an Obsidian Order spy on board with him, after all." The note of mistrust, even dislike, in the speaker's voice sent a chill through him. How many others--?

"He couldn't have known that."

"Couldn't he? You know what I heard? He and she--"

"Everybody knows that. Give the man a break. I haven't seen him do anything out of line. Janeway put him in the office, and I'm not going to second-guess Janeway."

There was a moment of silence.

"As long as he doesn't second-guess Janeway. I suppose there hasn't been any sign of that. Though you have to wonder why not."

"She's Janeway," said his defender, as if the name were a list of qualities in itself.

"He's not so old, or so bad-looking, and neither is she," said a woman. "Dashing renegade fighter--"

"Now that's funny," said a man, and there was another burst of laughter. Chakotay's throat clenched tight, and he wheeled to go, sick to his stomach, his appetite gone. If he could get out of the dining room without being seen--

"Commander! There you are! Where are you going? I've been trying to track you down all morning." Neelix came out of the kitchen and made a beeline for him, sending a few heads snapping in his direction. Chakotay put a calm expression on his face and tried to look as if he had just arrived. "I've just had the most marvelous idea. Come and eat, I'll tell you all about it, and then if we could talk to the captain sometime before dinner, this would be a day well spent."

"Why don't you tell me about your day, Neelix?" said Chakotay. "Mine's only half over, but it feels about spent already." He glanced at the table of Starfleet regulars as he went by, seeing only busy forks and downcast glances, and wondered if his mood would ever improve. Not at this rate.

"You don't look too well," said Neelix with a probing gaze, setting a plate down in front of him when he took a chair. "Have you been eating right? I didn't see you at dinner last night, and you skipped breakfast. So did the captain, for that matter. You senior officers ought to relax and indulge yourselves more. I know; I'll fix up a nice light supper tonight, bring it to your quarters, and you and she can discuss all your little hassles over hot pejuta and Ghaquerian biscuits."

Chakotay ran a hand slowly over his face, willing calm. "No. Thank you." The plate in front of him was garnished with beautiful fruits and berries, their sweet scent familiar and disorienting. He picked up his fork automatically, then put it down.

"Oh. Well, just trying to help. You know, Commander..." Neelix sat down and leaned confidentially over the table. "I think I've seen enough to know what's going on here." He waggled his brows when Chakotay looked up in a quick twitch of black panic.

"Have you?"

"Have I? I've got some experience in matters of the heart, you know--perhaps inferior to yours, you sly dog, but you're not fooling me. I can put two and two together, or should I say one and one? Heh."

"Really." His lips quirked in spite of himself.

"When people skip meals that often, I know it's not the stomach that's involved. Oh, my lips are sealed. Not a word to anyone. If you don't want to rush things, that's fine, but I could help give the lovely lady a little push, you know. All I need is a hint." The sheer ridiculousness, the conspiratorial air, the sparkle in the Talaxian's eyes--Chakotay smiled haltingly, then at Neelix's titter burst out in a painful snorting laugh, his lips clamped shut. It died quickly, but he slumped in relief, grinning weakly. "That's better. Now eat your lunch, sir. Don't let all this go to waste--oh, yes, that marvelous idea of mine. I think we should throw a party, something for the whole ship, and have a feast while we're well stocked. How about it? I think the captain liked the idea--"

Chakotay picked up his fork and began to eat, appetite somewhat restored. "Neelix, we need to conserve our food, not use it all up at once. Most of what we've just gathered is going into cold storage."

"But we need a real celebration--harvest festivals, birthdays, whatever--it doesn't matter. It's for crew morale--I am the Morale Officer, after all--and you have to be the worst case of low morale I've seen in quite some time. But one good party, a little music, dancing, a little tête-à-tête for those of us with a yen for romance, and you'll snap out of it." He winked and pointed at the plate. "Have some of that yellowy-peachy one--it's perfectly delicious. Just let me outline my ideas..."

Chakotay half-listened to a chattering stream of Talaxian inspiration, endless and cheery, and finished his entire meal, with thanks for every mouthful.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAKOTAY HAD THE BRIDGE all to himself this afternoon. He wasn't really surprised, once he thought about it, but he had been bracing himself all day to face her, and the fact that Janeway was still down in Engineering with her samples left him hanging fire. In her chair, he was hunched at an angle, not quite pushed all the way to the back, his arm dangling half off the side and the knuckles of the other hand planted firmly just under his nose. No one could be mistaking his awkwardness for ease. He didn't want to stand up and pace the way Janeway liked to do, because that would draw gazes from all over the bridge. Under too much scrutiny, his tense armor might not hold out long, though there was no chance he would feel able to drop his guard. Tuvok was boring a hole into him from behind, as usual--he twisted around in the command chair and met an intense stare still aimed at him while the man worked away at his console, apparently knowing the configuration so well he would make no mis-keys even while he wasn't looking at it. At least Vulcans couldn't read minds without physical contact. In most cases. Chakotay shifted uneasily, turning back to face the viewscreen.

"Lieutenant, move us up out of the plane of the belt," he ordered. "No point in playing tag with asteroids twice our size."

"Hey, I'm practicing," said Paris, grinning over his shoulder. "You never know when you'll have to dodge something big and nasty." He maneuvered Voyager between two mountainous hunks of tumbling rock and up above the asteroid belt. The sun shone red on the upper surfaces, pitted and scored with eons of craters.

"Practice is a good way to learn your trade," said Chakotay with deceptive mildness, and got a one-sided smile in return. "I think the captain's got all the material she needs. Prepare to go to warp, and lay in our former course."

"We have received no order to do so, Commander," said the smooth-surfaced voice from behind him.

Oh, Tuvok, I love you too. Chakotay wrapped his fingers around his jaw to hold back the first retort that came to mind, and waited a beat or two, his intuition prickling.

"Janeway to Bridge," said the intercom.

"Chakotay here." The first words he'd said to her since she'd walked out the door of the holodeck last night.

"Prepare to go to warp. I've got everything I need, and we should be returning to our course."

"Aye, Captain," he replied, and stood up to cover his sudden shudder, a bit of unworthy triumph mixed with the surge of emotion he had felt at the sound of her voice. Tuvok would have dropped his gaze, finally, and Kim would be exchanging a look with Paris--yes, Paris was grinning again and swiveling his seat to the left to look up at the Ops station. Chakotay smiled at the floor.

"Course laid in, Commander."

Chakotay walked down to the pilot's station and looked at the navigational sensors. "Warp Four. Engage."

Voyager raised her nacelles and flew, the system retreating behind them.

"Tuvok, you've got the bridge. It's almost 1700, and I've got an errand to run."

"Aye, Commander." Tuvok moved down to take the chair, and Chakotay turned and passed him on his way to the turbolift.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said, and let the doors close on a quizzical Vulcan face.

"IT WOULD APPEAR that he has deliberately concealed Mr. Dalby's misstep from you, Captain. I submit that this is part of a consistent pattern, dating from the earliest part of his tenure as first o--"

"Tuvok."

Tuvok broke off and looked at Janeway, realizing her emotional disturbance of the night before had not entirely resolved itself. Her lips were trembling and her shoulders tense. She had seemed perfectly well upon her return from Engineering, brisk and smiling, explaining her findings with precise movements of her tapered hands, but the moment he had stepped into the ready room with her and brought up the subject of Chakotay, something had changed. Her eyes were steady and steely, however, and with a brisk nod of her head she indicated that he should sit.

"Does that imply that you would come straight to me with every minor personnel problem if you were in his shoes?"

"I...no, of course not, Captain."

"Exactly. I would trust you to take care of your job. I asked you yesterday if you trusted Commander Chakotay to take care of his job. I thought I had a satisfactory answer."

Tuvok took one of the chairs in front of the desk and spoke with careful gravity. Janeway had nearly tricked that answer out of him, and he knew what she wanted to hear; what she should hear was another matter. "Whether or not he deals with the problem in an appropriate manner is not my concern as security chief. It is the fact that he has erased the log of the original complaint and circumvented its automatic download to my console."

"Did he?" Janeway was gazing past him at the wall of her ready room, only half listening, her thoughts darkening her expression.

"He is apparently quite expert in such matters. I discovered the erasure only by accident, when Mr. Chell repeated a rumor that Ensign Delaney had been...approached on the surface by an amorous crewman, and had been emotionally upset by the incident. I made further inquiries, was informed that she had filed a formal complaint, but could find no record of it until I opened the commander's disciplinary files. He had noted that he had spoken to Mr. Dalby, and is apparently with him and Ensign Delaney at the moment." Janeway did not reply, and Tuvok saw the shadows moving slowly behind her gaze, her troubled emotions almost palpable. Where was her usual smooth bright surface? Something had stirred her, agitating her to the depths. "Captain?"

"Yes?"

"Does this not concern you?"

She focused on him again, her features working oddly until she settled on a thoughtful scowl. "I suppose it should. But even if it is a habit of his to do an end run around procedure where the Maquis are concerned, it's worked in practice so far. If we had insisted on procedure in Lieutenant Torres' case, we wouldn't have our chief engineer. There's been very little trouble from the Maquis, considering their records, and Chakotay has to take all the credit for that. I gave him the responsibility, after all."

"I would not consider the incident that led to the unmasking of Ensign Seska 'very little trouble'."

"She was hardly a real member of the Maquis. No more than you claim to be, Tuvok." Janeway's lips quirked. She had not lost her sense of humor--she rarely did, often to his discomfiture--but the restlessness in her whole aspect prickled his skin.

"But a much closer member of the group than I. She had the captain's ear, and apparently a considerable hold on his affections. He has remained attached to his former crew as a whole, and at least until she was revealed as a Cardassian, to Ensign Seska. I do not believe that either of us has heard the whole story of their relationship, and it might be beneficial to fill in some of the missing pieces."

He was startled at the whiteness of her face. "No."

"Captain--"

"There is no point in questioning him further about her. I wanted to leave him some dignity, at least..." Janeway turned and put an elbow on her desk, covering her lips with one hand. Her eyes were burning bright, gleaming with shining tears. From experience, he knew that silence was his best alternative in this situation, and he employed it. Was her sensitivity on the subject of Chakotay the result of a quarrel? Why then was she defending him so passionately? They sat together for a few moments, Tuvok's gaze fixed on her profile, until Janeway took a deep breath and looked at him. "She didn't do him that courtesy, saying what she did in front of you and me."

"A disavowal of love is disturbing to the mental equilibrium of a Human?"

"Yes. Of course it is." She looked away again, her voice hard, her face tight, but she moved irresolutely as if not able to direct the anger at only one target. "It...it's difficult to think of anything worse that a person could say."

"Indeed. Then you believe that Commander Chakotay has broken all his ties to Ensign Seska as a result?"

"I...know...he's certainly tried to do so. It's not that easy, no matter what someone says..." She rose and walked up to the viewport. "I don't want this question raised again, please. It's idle speculation without foundation unless one could look into his mind--" Janeway glanced pointedly at Tuvok-- "and bringing it up to him would do far more harm than good, I'm very sure."

Tuvok raised a brow, but nodded. "I will comply with your wishes, Captain."

"Thank you." She made a bow, and a small smile. "Let's get out of here and breathe some fresh air. I've cooped myself up in Engineering all day, and I want to get back to my bridge."

JANEWAY OPENED THE DOOR of her ready room and strode up to sit in the command chair, but the turbolift opened as well a few moments later and Chakotay swung out of it, and in the same direction so that they nearly collided in front of the consoles. She gripped the rail to stop herself and for sheer support, and they stood toe to toe for an instant, eyes locked, until he said, "Excuse me, Captain," in a low, quiet tone and directed his gaze over her head. Janeway's skin was flushing and chilling, her chest constricted. She nodded and passed him. Chakotay waited for her to sit, then crossed in front of her and took his own seat with a deliberate air. Instead of raising his monitor, he put his fingertips together in his lap and stared at the floor, his breathing audibly measured. Tuvok was walking slowly to his station, and a glance over her shoulder told her that he was studying Chakotay minutely. Everyone on the bridge was stirring and looking around, sensing a mood far out of the ordinary. Tom Paris coughed, and Janeway jumped at the sudden noise. Much too quiet.

"Report," she said, and the pilot recited speed, position and course. Kim summarized ship's systems in a halting monotone. Chakotay cleared his throat.

She paused before saying anything, hoping that he would speak without prompting, but he was silent.

"I hear there was some sort of misunderstanding between two crewmembers yesterday." Janeway smiled, and then leaned a little closer as she usually did when conversing with him on the bridge. Chakotay barely turned his head, and kept his eyes on the floor.

"Yes...ma'am."

"There have been some rumors," she said, hoping to hear him dismiss Dalby with a joke and ease Tuvok's concerns about concealment. Instead, his expression grew even darker and drew inward, and he was silent again. Paris turned around with a jocular air, apparently about to comment on the rumors, but took one look at Chakotay, stopped and creased his brow, then turned slowly back to his console. Kim fidgeted with his station and shifted his weight from foot to foot. This was dreadful. This was just what she had been afraid of, and the longer it went on in public, the worse it would look.

"Commander, shall we discuss this in my ready room?" she said, very low, and he turned nearly grey. Not alone, no--that would be intolerable-- "Mr. Tuvok, please join us," she added. Perhaps she could clear the air about this one matter, at least.

He seemed caged in her office, pacing a few steps back and forth between chairs and door, and Tuvok stood still and watched him, and her. This was going to take every gram of her diplomatic ability. Chakotay angry and upset, barely able to tolerate her presence, and Tuvok implacably suspicious, and, she feared, resentful under his logical justifications. If he would put a name to it himself--but a Vulcan never would.

"Please tell me about what happened. I'm sure you've dealt with it by now, but something got out. I wouldn't want this to affect morale, or create prejudice against any part of the crew."

"Which part would that be, Captain?" Oh, no. He was even sarcastic--

"Chakotay, it's only a rumor that's reached me. Please give me the facts."

He stopped pacing, facing away from her. "Kenneth Dalby made an advance to Jennifer Delaney. It didn't go over very well. She filed a complaint. I talked to Dalby. Dalby wrote up an apology. She accepted the apology. That's all."

A brief breath of ease--

"Where is the record of the complaint, sir?"

"Tuvok--"

"Right here." Chakotay pointed at his forehead.

"Do you consider that sufficient?"

"Works for me."

"As a possible security matter, it is a concern of mine as well, and I require written records to do my work, sir."

"It's not a security matter. It's taken care of. No one threatened anyone, and everyone's friendly now. She even offered to meet him for a meal."

"That sounds like an excellent solution," Janeway put in. "It would be extreme to keep a security record of the beginning of every relationship on board, no matter how rocky."

Chakotay finally looked her in the eye. "Or of the ending."

He might as well have stabbed her. Janeway felt the flash of sharp despair in his face like a knife, but it faded instantly to dark neutrality again, and he turned away. Tuvok was silent, thank God, but he had an attitude of watchful waiting that didn't bode well.

"I agree, Chakotay, there doesn't seem to be any cause for concern now. But...perhaps it would be better not to expunge your records until you are certain an incident like this has been closed. Tuvok does have a point--"

"So that every little thing can be kept on file and held against my crew? So that every denied promotion, every continued doubt can have a logical cause and a paper trail?"

Tuvok pounced. "The former Maquis are not 'your' crew, Commander."

"No, I guess they aren't. Because if they were, none of them would have betrayed me." Chakotay was leaning slightly forward, his head thrust out, his fists clenched. Janeway had the sense that Tuvok's icy calm was infuriating him even more than his exact words.

"That's not the issue here, gentlemen. This is not a security matter, and it is closed. Let's leave it at that."

"Some things may not lie as quiet as you'd like, Captain." Chakotay was looking directly at Tuvok. "And some are dead and buried." He glanced briefly at her, and the knife twisted in her heart again. What was dead? Only his intentions? She felt the trembling rise again, but checked it.

"That's enough. Tuvok, I hope your questions are answered. Mine certainly are. And, Chakotay..." She let her voice linger on his name, her careful pronunciation almost a caress, the vowels a little shortened. "Please, go off duty and get some rest. I know you've had...a long day."

His shoulders slumped visibly. "Yes, ma'am." Without another word, he left. Tuvok stepped back to let him pass.

"Have you had an altercation with Commander Chakotay?" he asked when the door had shut again.

"I'm about to have one with you." Janeway slammed a hand on her desk. "Even you should be able to tell when to leave well enough alone." She rolled a glare up at him, and he raised both brows.

"I cannot agree that important questions should be left aside simply because of the emotional state of the parties involved. If the commander's judgment has been impaired by his attitude, it is cause for concern."

"Then let him repair his attitude on his own. Don't give him more cause for anger. He'll be all right if you let him function the way he sees fit."

"And you, Captain?" His voice was quieter, and his eyes ran slowly over her face.

"I'm fine. This is not your problem, and you will not pursue it. That's an order." Whatever his suspicions were, she had probably just confirmed them. Which was unfortunate, but inevitable, since nothing escaped Tuvok's notice for long.

"Aye, Captain. Will you give the commander a similar instruction?"

"Tuvok-- Take the bridge. I feel very tired, and I'm going to turn in early. Good night."

"Good night, Captain."

Janeway led him out of the ready room and left him standing by the command chair, deep in thought. The ache in her heart grew sharper when she passed Chakotay's closed door, and throbbed dull and sick as she undressed and got into bed, but she dropped off quickly, her exhausted mind and body leaving her no more choice in the matter.

...SHE GROWLED and rose, the hair bristling on her back, prowling to the edge of the dark trees that had risen silently from the earth during his tale. He shot to his feet. This place should not change so rapidly. It was slightly different each time, but it was the landscape of his own mind. He knew it like his mother's songs, his father's face, his officer's oath, his ship's controls. The trees grew taller and darker as he watched, she circling him, a pale shape, rough and lean. The sun reached its zenith, but the shade under the branches was impenetrable.

Something was watching him. He could not sense what it was, but it was not Human. Until he knew what it was, he would not be able to see it. She could smell it, however, and she went rigid, her whole body an arrow. She pointed to the watcher, and he knew who it was...

CHAKOTAY WAS SITTING bolt upright, drenching wet, his throat raw from a cry he could not remember letting out. Instantly he flung the covers away and got out of bed, striding to the wall and slamming his palms against it, pushing hard against a memory, solid as the objects around him.

Gods, she was there, he howled silently. On the planet. Watching me, close enough to shoot me. Why didn't she? Chakotay put a hand over his eyes and leaned against the wall, shaking. The first time he had managed to forget her for a full day; rambling in the gardens, making a new one in the heart of the ship, and still she lurked and watched him. At least in his mind, she did... He realized this dream was familiar, that he had had it the previous night, and that his mind had been so clouded he had not remembered it on waking. "Damn, damn," he said to himself, and flung open the closet to find some clothes. His old shirt and trousers came first to hand, and he yanked them on and shot out the door.

This is dangerous, Chakotay told himself. You should leave this alone and keep your mouth shut. The door of the holodeck closed behind him, and he stepped to the control panel, not wanting to use the voice interface yet. What was the point of this exercise? Yes, he had seen something suspicious near the waterfall scene when he had left Janeway there and taken a walk to cool off, but he had forgotten all about it when he had seen her again, and no wonder. A recorded lurker in the bushes hadn't been that damn important when she had a smile like that for him... Why was he doing this? He punched up the holocamera recording he and Adams had made on the surface, and violet-leaved trees sprang up all around him, silently.

Chakotay scrolled through the tape to the waterfall scene and froze the recording. There it was, just where he had seen it on his perimeter check, but a little clearer since this was the original tape and had not been processed and cleaned up. A faint impression of a humanoid figure, too small for a Kazon. He ran the tape at fast-forward until it looped back on itself, noting the changes in posture and the point at which the figure vanished.

At the time he had made the recordings, he had noticed nothing, intent on setting the camera correctly, calling up the on-line help in its memory. Whoever it was had apparently watched him for some time, moving a little--there was a second impression about three meters to the right. Perhaps it was just a crew member, but why skulk around like that?

The security sweep had turned up nothing in the area only an hour before. Even the guards had not felt it necessary to make more than a quick initial scan, and obviously they hadn't seen anything. Chakotay had not made any tricorder readings, only the holorecordings, so he had only visual and auditory information to go by. This was only a tape and not a program, so the objects had no substance. Chakotay ran it back to the beginning of the sequence and froze it again, then walked straight towards the figure, passing through the tree trunks until he stood next to the indistinct greyish blob.

"Computer, advance time reference by thirty-second intervals." The figure shifted slightly and leaned forward. "Stop."

Yes, that was the best shot. The figure was half concealed by a tree, but the area where the head and face would be was only slightly obscured with branches. Blurry as hell, though. If he hadn't had the camera set to record at a much higher resolution than usual, the figure would probably not have shown up at all.

"Computer, isolate the figure in front of me."

"THERE ARE TWENTY-ONE THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-NINE DISCRETE OBJECTS IN FRONT OF YOU," said the voice, like a disapproving math teacher.

"All right--eliminate all objects smaller than one meter in all dimensions," he said. The obscuring leaves, branches, grass all disappeared; trees, large rocks and the figure remained.

"Show grid." A luminescent 3-D cube appeared. "Place origin here." He pointed with one finger and the cube shifted. "Scale by 25 percent." The figure was caged with glowing lines.

"Eliminate all objects outside grid." Now he saw a piece of tree trunk and a shadowy grey form floating in the darkness of the holodeck. Areas of the figure that had been blocked with leaves and branches were filled in with textures gleaned from the rest of the object. "Substitution off, fill with neutral shade." The unrecorded areas became blank. He did not want any computer interpolation to bias his eyes.

"Scale by 400 percent." Nearly half life size, the blurry shape took on some more specific characteristics. Long hair brushing the shoulders. One hand laid on the bark, a forward listening posture. It was still mostly a silhouette--"Increase contrast by increments of 5 along a 100 point scale." Detail harshened on the face. "Stop. Show gamma correction curve--compress." The values equalized.

Chakotay let out a breath that forced all the air from his lungs. The ghostly form hovered on the edge of recognizability. Did he really want to take this any further? Yes. If his suspicions were true, the very ones which had spurred him to investigate in the first place, he had a duty to pursue this as far as it would go. And he was working so hard to find something lost and barely visible, restore it to recognizability-- Duty was the last thing on his mind, actually. He had to know.

"Increase color saturation."

"Sharpen thirty percent."

"Sharpen twenty percent more."

A young woman with Bajoran features looked at him, her face crisscrossed with blank streaks of grey. The wide hazel eyes had a hungry glare.

Delete it, said a voice of sick panic. Delete it. Wipe it out, and no one else will ever have to see her again--

"Save image and enhancement history," he whispered so low that he had to repeat the instruction for the computer's benefit.

"THE HOLODECK--? Why does he want us on the holodeck in the middle of the night?" asked Janeway in flat tones, standing in the open doorway of her quarters. Tuvok estimated that her heart rate, as measured by the visible pulse in her exposed throat, had accelerated by thirty percent since he had spoken. Even if he had not known her well, her emotions read like bold print.

He did know her too well to make any comment. "I do not know," he replied. He spoke low, so as not to disturb sleepers in the cabins nearby. "The commander was very insistent that both of us, and only we, should see what he has to show us."

"Why didn't he call me directly--" Janeway stopped and gritted her teeth. She wrapped her dressing gown around herself and accompanied Tuvok to the turbolift.

CHAKOTAY WAS WEARING dark trousers and a rumpled shirt woven with angular patterns that Tuvok recognized immediately. The traditional dress of a Native American colonist, common among the Maquis. Apparently he had risen in haste and chosen his attire at random. When he saw Janeway in her nightclothes, her hair loose, his eyes closed briefly, then reopened, expressionless. He said only, "This is the tape I made," then showed them a sequence of image processing, froze the final result and waited, without turning to see their reaction.

Janeway's eyes narrowed in fury, but it was directed at the woman whose faint, blotchy image hung before them. She bit her words out through drawn lips.

"She was there. That--" She put a hand over her mouth, took it away. "Seska, or whatever her real name might be."

"Curious," commented Tuvok. "I discovered no sign of a Kazon base, despite Mr. Neelix's warnings, and no ship was within sensor range at the time."

"Could the Kazon have abandoned her there?" Janeway sounded as if she hoped very much that they had.

"From what we know of them, they would have been more likely to leave her where no food or water could be obtained, or simply to kill her, if they had no further need of her," the Vulcan replied.

"But--" Chakotay had said very little since they had arrived, and his back was still turned. "If she escaped from them--"

"She won't escape from me," said Janeway in tones so steely both her officers turned to her. "Not again. We've got her this time." She wheeled and left the holodeck.

Tuvok and Chakotay were left looking at each other. "I think that means she wants us on the bridge," said Chakotay, a faint smile starting on his lips.

"Indubitably," replied Tuvok. "I would suggest that you get into uniform, Commander."

CHAPTER SIX

"NO, CAPTAIN. I can't let you go down there to look for her." Chakotay's voice was quiet and intense; he obviously meant business, but he would meet her eyes only briefly. "She's too dangerous. And--excuse me, Captain, but I feel that this is my responsibility."

"Ensign Seska is..." Janeway realized that she should not finish the thought in the conference room with others present. After a moment of silence, she fell back on protocol. "It is the first officer's prerogative to warn the captain against going into a hazardous situation," she acknowledged.

"It's my prerogative to stop you from going into a hazardous situation," said Chakotay, and held her gaze with an apparent effort of will. Paris let out a long breath through pursed lips, like a silent whistle. Everyone was studying the walls, the table, their own fingernails.

"That's in the manual," replied Janeway, her voice steady, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's defer this discussion for a few minutes. Mr. Tuvok, do you believe that more powerful portable scanners will do the job?"

"Yes, Captain. If they are calibrated to cut through another type of shielding than the standard varieties we originally attempted to detect, the scan will have a significantly greater chance of success."

"Another type of shielding?" asked Janeway.

"Yes. It is not penetrable to normal scans and does not even betray its presence. There are elements in common with the Romulan/Klingon cloak, and with only one other kind that I have ever seen. I propose that we study our logs of the Caretaker's array and the underground Ocampa city and evaluate how our scanners might be modified to penetrate shields of that configuration. I believe that may be what we are dealing with here." The eyes all refocused on the Vulcan.

"We're dozens of light-years from where the Array was," said Ensign Kim, and exchanged glances with Torres.

"But he spoke of another of his kind before he died," said Janeway. "Another being of his technologically advanced race, who had departed centuries before. She could easily have come this far."

"Why would she build an underground base?" said Torres. "If that's even what we're going to find."

"I have no idea," Janeway replied, and smiled. "If we had found the Array empty, we wouldn't have known its purpose without a lot of study. But the apparent age of the other structures on the surface would jibe with the theory that the Caretaker's mate had something to do with this planet. They are very old--"

"--and all ruined," said Torres, continuing the thought. "If she was here, she's long gone." Kim's face fell. "But she might have left a lot behind," she added, and smiled at him. "Maybe even something that generates a displacement wave. Press a button, and we're home..."

"B'Elanna, I'd like you to review the logs that were made at the Array, and work on ideas for penetrating its shields. Tuvok will assist you as needed," said Janeway.

"Right," said Torres, rose and left.

"I'll review the logs from the planet where we met the Kazon- Nistrim," said Paris. "They'll probably try to use that same cloaking technique, blocking our specific sensor frequencies, if they want to sneak up on us. They were only hiding that time, but next time they might attack."

"Good idea, Lieutenant. That's your assignment. Try to spot anything that could be used as a marker to locate their ships--and keep your eyes open as well." Janeway looked at the agenda on her PADD. "That covers everything needed for the search. May I see you in my ready room, Commander? And you as well, Mr. Tuvok." She rose, and the meeting broke up. The officers filed out to the bridge, and Chakotay frowned down at the table and rose as well. Tuvok followed him out the door, his eyes fixed on the first officer's back.

They were standing side by side in front of the desk when she entered, Tuvok relaxed and straight-backed, Chakotay a little slumped, his hands slowly curling and uncurling. Their heads were nearly on a level, but the Vulcan gave the impression of greater height because of his lean build. Chakotay still reminded her of a bear, although he had laughed when she had told him so. Dark, heavy-shouldered and substantial, a deceptive appearance of easy-going deliberation, but claws and teeth hidden beneath the gentle coat.

"Commander," she said, and both of them turned to her as she moved behind her desk, remaining standing. Janeway looked Chakotay in the face. "You were right. I shouldn't go down to the surface." She watched his expression open up, the tense features smooth out, his lips parting slightly as his eyes widened. He'd been expecting a dressing- down, obviously, and she had to suppress her smile.

"Thank you, Captain," he said finally, and looked away. Tuvok raised an eyebrow.

"I applaud your logic in coming to that conclusion, Captain," he said, and Chakotay glanced sideways at him. He looked at Janeway again, seemingly about to speak, but paused at her upraised hand.

"I accept that this is too dangerous a mission for my direct participation," she said, "but I cannot accept that comment about it being your responsibility, Commander." He raised his chin. "Ensign Seska was a member of your former crew, and under your command-- formerly. She was also...your lover." Janeway could not hold his eyes while she spoke that word, but she looked up again immediately. Chakotay's gaze was directed to some distant point, but seemed to focus inwardly. "That does not make you responsible for her actions, and it does not make you responsible for redressing the harm she has done to Voyager. She is a member of Voyager's crew, and subject to its regulations, to Starfleet regulations. I've allowed you to carry out your independent decisions in dealing with the Maquis because you know them better than I do and have experience in disciplining them. But you do so as my executive officer, and not as their former captain. I am the captain, and I have the ultimate responsibility for every soul on this ship. Is that clear, Commander?"

"Yes, Captain," Chakotay replied, his gaze steady on hers again, but his voice flat and neutral, carrying no ring of conviction.

"Good," she said after a moment. "We're well on our way back to the system. Mr. Tuvok, I expect the scanners at 1600 hours, with whatever improvements incorporated that we can manage. You will assist Commander Chakotay in planning security for the away team."

"Aye, Captain."

"Commander--I leave the procedure to you. After all--you know her better than anyone else on board."

"No one knew her very well," said Chakotay, with a hint of bitterness, too acid to be humor. Janeway wondered if she would ever again see him smile as he had when she had entered the holodeck the day before. Seska must have hurt him very badly, she thought. Perhaps seeing her brought to justice would help. Perhaps that would help with one rejection--what about the other? She leaned forward and put her hands on the desk for support. The task at hand had proved a welcome distraction, a necessary one. Janeway could hardly imagine how she would have coped otherwise, sitting a meter from him day after day, watching his stony profile, feeling the ice of protective protocol forming over the remains of what might have been friendship, or might have been something far more.

"Let's get back to work," she said. "I'll see you both at 1600."

B'ELANNA TORRES always experienced a jolt when Janeway appeared unannounced in Engineering, and today was a worse one than usual for sudden visits. Her face twitched with tension as she pounded the consoles and painstakingly applied laser arc-welds to tiny components, and she was cursing quietly and continuously under her breath, alternating between Standard, Central American Spanish, and flowery Bajoran epithets she had picked up in the Maquis. Carey stood at her elbow, silent at his work, handing her the occasional tool while he created design specs for the chips she needed and programmed the replicator to spit them out. She had a tunnel focus just now, tight and black-walled and aiming for a red fury where she did not want to arrive. Use the anger, she told herself. It's energy. Don't give the energy to that--targh ngaghwI. Use it against her. The Klingon phrase tasted vile in her mouth, but it was the only description that fit Seska any more.

"Give me the--" Carey put a eight-millimeter drill into her hand. "Thanks." She punched the trigger and watched the greenish light reflect off his blunt face, brandishing the thing like a weapon, then sliced it into a sheet of alloy. "Where's the mounting for the next chip assembly?"

He pointed at the top of the console, where he had laid out all the components he had already fabricated. They were arranged in the exact order in which she would need them, and she gave him a brief smile, which he returned.

"Well, maybe we'll get this done in time after all," she said in a moment. "Where the hell is Tuvok with that shield harmonic analysis? We can't do the next chip set without it."

"I'll check," said Carey, and stepped to the small viewscreen over the main engine console. The security chief's dark face appeared, and they began a conversation. Torres continued to punch holes in her sheet of alloy until the mounting's pins fit snugly into them, knelt, and placed the assembly inside the casing of the scanner. This would be a delicate weld, as she would have to be careful of the first set of chips already installed. Holding it in place with one hand, she reached up for her welder with the other, hit an obstacle, and experienced a jolt.

Captain Janeway stood over her, peering into the casing, and Torres' hand had collided with her ribcage. She moved back immediately, with a gasp at the impact, but the damage was done.

"Dammit!" The sheet and the mounting slipped and fell into the casing, rattling loudly. A patter of tiny chips went after it as the first mounting was knocked askew. Torres jerked her head, hair flying out, and suppressed the next phrase that came to mind as she seized the scanner to keep the whole thing from falling over. She felt a slim hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, B'Elanna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Let me help." Carey returned from the console with a PADD in hand, and all three of them knelt to retrieve chips.

"Ghuy'cha," muttered Torres as she snapped them back into the mounting and adjusted it again, then shot a glance at Janeway to see if she had heard. She gave no sign, but stood up and looked at the designs on the console display, nodding.

"Excellent. Used together, these should cut through nearly any kind of cloaking at close range."

"That's the idea. If we get them finished before she skips out." Janeway glanced up at Torres' tone, her eyes gone dark in her pale face.

"Is there anything I can do to help with this? Besides staying out of the way, that is." Her lips quirked, but her eyes had no humor in them.

"Not really--" Torres began, but the intensity of Janeway's gaze stopped her. "Yes. Carey, did you get the scan?"

"Here it is, Lieutenant." Carey passed her the PADD. "Lieutenant Tuvok's analyzed all the readings from the Array and broken them down into frequency patterns already. And there's a graphed curve of the possible weak points. He always was thorough." Janeway smiled at him.

"Yes, I know." Torres paused. "He did the same thing for me with the Type II Cardassian shields when they started to equip the scout vessels with them." She looked away from the PADD.

"That's his job," said Janeway, her voice even. "May I have a look at that?" Torres handed her the PADD and she scanned it quickly. "The lower infrared looks promising."

"Exactly. If you want to help, you can calibrate the patterns with the scans from the planet, and look for correlations. That will tell me where to concentrate the enhancements."

Janeway nodded, already moving to a console. Torres returned to her welding task. The captain did like to get her hands dirty even on ordinary projects, she thought, and this one had a special meaning to her, obviously. Seska was still the only member of Voyager's crew who had rejected everything Janeway's leadership offered. "That lo'laHbe' ghew," she muttered, savoring the bitterness of her mother's native language. She's hurt the people I trust most, and violated their confidence-- never mind about mine. She looked over her shoulder at Janeway, working quickly and smoothly without a trace of agitation in her movements, but her face intense, eyes burning, beautiful. Tuvok appeared on the console viewscreen again and spoke briefly to Carey. There was another person she had believed she had known once, as well as she could know a Vulcan, or cared to, but at least she hadn't thought they had liked each other.

"Lieutenant Torres?" She jumped at the level voice, and Tuvok's eyes turned to her.

"Yes?" She did not put her tools down.

"I believe Commander Chakotay wishes to speak to you."

"Oh." She turned the welder off and approached the viewscreen. Chakotay's face replaced the Vulcan's, and she hunkered down over the console. That queer haunted look in the dark eyes, the tight line of his chin drawn down below the level of his tense shoulders. He was a lot worse off than she was, carrying much more weight, and though he had rarely shown her any vulnerability on purpose, Torres felt a surge of something like protectiveness.

"B'Elanna."

She paused a moment before answering. "Are...you OK?"

His chin jerked up. "Fine."

"Look, Chakotay, I thought you only found that image last night."

"Yes."

"Then why were you so strange yesterday? What's going on?"

"Nothing that's got any relationship to catching...her." His eyes narrowed. Torres pursed her lips and looked skeptically at him, but he was more closed off than ever. "Would you like to hear what I was going to ask you?"

"Go ahead."

"I want you on the away team."

Torres felt her mouth curl in a snarl, the red rage burning bright. "Glad to."

"No."

"What?"

"Not like that. As...as a friend of hers."

"Chakotay--"

"We've got to lure her out. If she wants to stay hidden, she probably can't be found. There has to be a reason for her to come out, if she's still there. I'm taking Harry Kim with me as well."

"Harry?"

"She...liked him, I know. I think it's worth a shot." He glanced down, then back up at her, the broad planes of his face catching the light from Tuvok's console. "If we see her, I need you to be on good terms with her." Chakotay smiled wryly. "Probably only for a short time. How about it?"

"I..." She glanced at Janeway, whose back was turned. "All right. You can count on me."

"Thanks," Chakotay said softly, and signed off.

"Oh, dammit," Torres murmured, and leaned down momentarily to rest on the console. How many times are you going to be betrayed, Chakotay? she asked his image in her mind. How many times would he be slapped in the face before he wouldn't even trust his own eyes or intuition any more? She straightened up and returned to the scanner casing. Janeway's fingers were flying over the displays, her face rapt. Torres watched her a moment, admiring the balance, the concentration of intellect and body on the task. There were only two people, she realized, whose word she believed without question. They trusted her, and they believed in other people's word, and they kept their own promises. Only the trustworthy could really give trust, and how much could they give when some yuD lung flung it back at them with curses? She finished the weld and stood. If you lose your faith, she thought, I might lose my faith in you. I don't ever want that to happen, because I'm running on faith. "I'll give it back to you," she said low. "I won't let you down." She meant it for both of them, her captains, former and current. She had her focus still, but the rage was now a fire that fueled her. Torres stepped to Janeway's side and remained there with a smile, almost a peaceful one.

SHE WAS WALKING with purpose along the corridor just outside Engineering, her head down and her eyes bent on the carpet, and did not see Tuvok until they met at the door of the turbolift. He took the opportunity to study her face and manner, and decided that this was as good a time as any to air his concerns. Voyager would arrive at the garden planet in two hours, thirty-eight minutes, and the sooner this was said, the better.

"Captain."

She looked up, and he saw her faraway gaze resolve instantly to focus on him. "Hello, Tuvok. Going to speak to Torres about the scanners? There's nothing more to do but assembly, so I left."

"I have provided her with all the information available to me."

"Then...you want to speak to me?" She smiled slightly and gestured at her com badge. "You didn't have to come all the way down here to do that. I was heading to the bridge in any case."

"Commander Chakotay is on the bridge."

"...Yes?"

"Yesterday you requested that I not re-open the question of Ensign Seska. The question has been broached nonetheless. Have I your permission to discuss it at this time?"

Janeway took a deep harsh breath and looked at him, her mouth setting in a hard line. "This is certainly a security matter now. Go ahead."

"Perhaps--"

"Here." She nodded at the open turbolift and they stepped inside. "Computer, hold lift." There was a brief silence, and Tuvok cleared his throat.

"Captain, it is of the utmost importance that we ascertain Commander Chakotay's attitude towards Ensign Seska. It is logical that he should lead the away team, as his presence was what prompted her to stay in range of the camera in the first place, and he knows her...well. But the result of a face to face meeting is unpredictable without more information."

"If you are asking if I know anything on that score..."

"Do you?"

"I..." She looked down and bit her lower lip. "Possibly. Understand me, this is pure inference. He has never talked to me about her since the later stages of the investigation of the stolen replicator, the one she gave to the Kazon-Nistrim."

"I would value any inference you can make."

"I don't think he...is as attached to her as he might once have been. He knows she was a spy--that's obvious. But I...have reason...to believe..." Her voice broke slightly, and she swallowed hard and continued. "I believe he has ended his emotional attachment to her."

"Indeed? What is your evidence?"

"I can't tell you. It was given to me...in confidence."

"If you feel able to make the inference, I must assume the evidence is solid."

"I think so."

"I will weigh that as a factor, then. Though his manner when he showed us the enhanced image seems to point to the opposite conclusion. He appeared highly agitated, and attempted to conceal that fact."

"That could have been due to...a lot of things. He's slow to lose faith in anyone, of course, unless he has very good proof. It took the doctor's discovery that she was a disguised Cardassian to shake his loyalty to her at all, and even then he tried to maintain a belief in the possibility of her innocence as long as he could." Janeway bowed her head for a moment, touching her lips.

"That would seem to imply he might have had sympathy for her actions. It has already been demonstrated that Commander Chakotay's loyalty to Starfleet and to Federation law could not survive the test of the Cardassian peace treaty. His loved ones and his home were put in jeopardy, and he abandoned his duty to fight for them. It would logically follow that he would put emotional connection above principle in this case as well."

"Emotional connection is a principle for a Human, Mr. Tuvok," Janeway said. Softly, but with a tight gaze on him that made him raise a brow and compress his lips. "It has to be weighed with all the other important factors in a decision. And Chakotay decided to do his duty to Voyager. I never had any doubt that he would. I have no doubt that he will continue to do so."

"Your own faith does you credit, Captain. I fear that I have only my logic to guide me."

She looked at him for a long minute, and ordered the turbolift to the bridge.

"CAPTAIN'S LOG, stardate 48864.3. Voyager has returned to the planet at maximum warp. From orbit, there is no sign of any humanoid life. No Kazon ships in sensor range. It seems very unlikely that they could have built anything so advanced as the surface structures as long ago as the dates indicate. An intense scan of the area of the gardens has turned up evidence of a widespread irrigation system, which has apparently failed from age everywhere else on the planet. Ensign Seska's presence here is still unexplained."

Janeway tapped her coffee mug speculatively. Problems like this required caffeine; she was on her third cup from the extravagant potful she had replicated an hour ago. Thank heaven for work; she felt almost normal again.

"Commander, Mr. Tuvok, report to my ready room," she said to the intercom. The door slid open instantly, as if they had been waiting just outside. "Have a seat, gentlemen."

Chakotay had finally regained a familiar aspect, a businesslike deliberation, as if he had something important to accomplish but was waiting for the opportune moment. His half-smiling lips quirked upwards a fraction as he met her eyes. A palpable release of tension let her guard down, and she was surprised at how tightly she had been controlling herself in his presence. Good, she thought. Perhaps that incident can be forgotten after all. Something approaching normality and our good working relationship. Chakotay sat down and casually crossed his legs, glanced at Tuvok as he also sat, and then back at Janeway, under his brows with fleeting intensity. All the unexpected power of their interrupted embrace hit her again while her shields were down. She found herself shifting her pelvis in her seat as a ripple of slow contraction squeezed and gradually released. Almost imperceptibly, her spine arched towards him and her breasts rose--

Janeway carefully relaxed her entire torso and sat herself back in her chair. Had he noticed? He had looked away immediately and the faint smile was unchanged, and that might mean any of a number of things, but her face had gone unmistakably warm. Was he shutting off his notice of her for the sake of peace, had that glance been unintentional? Oh, for a telepathic Betazoid officer--poor Stadi had been something of a chum, and willing to drop hints--but was dead along with Janeway's original first officer, Cavit, and so many others. Cavit had been a stiff-necked, efficient executive, and had provoked not the least bit of disturbance in her. Stern and predictable and Starfleet to the marrow. A safeguard she had never given a thought to was now so conspicuous by its absence that she realized how important it had always been to her style of command. If she was to be warm and intimate with her officers, she had to know they would never take it the wrong way, and so she had chosen reserved, disciplined men, a woman who knew exactly what she was thinking at every moment, and a Vulcan. Tuvok was examining her now, wondering at her silence, perhaps, and raising an eyebrow. "Captain..."

"Yes, Tuvok. Are the scanners ready?"

"They are. Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Kim are preparing them for transport to the surface at this moment. I have detailed eight security guards for the away teams."

"Very good. Commander?"

"I plan to start the search in the spot where...she...was detected," the first officer said softly. "Lieutenant Tuvok and Lieutenant Torres will form one party, and Ensign Kim and myself the other. Each group will take four guards along. Torres and Kim will operate the scanners."

"I see--you think she might respond to people she knows?"

"That's the general idea..." Chakotay seemed to be having some difficulty in speaking. His hand went to the chest of his uniform, and he seemed to touch something under the material.

"That's a good thought," Janeway said encouragingly. "Let's hope you're right. We'll be maintaining a constant transporter lock on all of you , and hopefully she'll show herself long enough to lock onto as well."

Chakotay and Tuvok rose, and she nodded to the Vulcan. "Good luck."

"Random chance may indeed play some part in our success or failure," he replied. Janeway smiled and fielded a sideways glance from Chakotay. She had noticed that he liked to needle Tuvok, but not as affectionately as she did. After all, he had some reason to regard the Vulcan in the same light she saw Seska.

"Chakotay." She moved around the desk to look into his face. "If anyone can catch her, you can. You know how important this is to our security." Especially since Tuvok had raised the question again, she wanted Chakotay to know she trusted him even on such a matter as this, with his loyalties possibly divided. Appealing to his sense of duty could only bolster it. She had no doubt in her mind that he would carry it out to the letter as she instinctively put her hand on his arm.

She saw his eyes, dark and steady on her face, the half-smile returning. He looked nearly the same as he always had, except for the cool distance in his gaze. Janeway held it for a moment and realized it masked an echo of the longing that had provoked their misstep. The incident was not forgotten. But he would never ask for the gift again, believing it permanently out of his reach. Instantly she realized that his glance had been as involuntary as her own response to it, and that he was suppressing himself as well as he could, perhaps flattering himself that he was entirely unreadable. He bowed slightly, his own hand moving to rest lightly on her elbow. "I'll get her for you, Captain, if she's down there."

Janeway didn't know if she wanted to be on a pedestal like that, untouchable, for ever. Even now her body threatened to soften to him, to stoop down and raise him up to her side. Tuvok frowned and shifted uneasily as they stood arm-clasped together, the pauses between their phrases so long they would have seemed peculiar to someone far less perceptive. He glanced at Chakotay as well, and she could almost hear the click of realization. His eyes returned to hers, his dark face stern. She withdrew her hand and nodded to both her officers.

"Report in every fifteen minutes, if it's safe to do so. Dismissed."

She settled down again with her pot of coffee. Could be a long vigil.

"CHAKOTAY TO JANEWAY."

"Yes, Commander."

"We've done an inital sensor sweep. No sign of any humanoid life forms. The area where...she was standing shows some sign of disturbance, but Tuvok says the readings are inconclusive."

"All right. Are you going to split up now?"

"Yes, Captain. We'll set up the portable scanners about five hundred meters apart and start an underground probe for any shielded hiding places. The sun is setting and it will be dark in about a half hour. That's all I have to report so far."

"Be careful, all of you. I'm sure you know more about what she's capable of than I do."

Chakotay answered softly, "I have a pretty good idea. Chakotay out."

Janeway rose from her seat and paced to the couch by the viewport, then returned to her desk and sat on the edge. Caged here in her ready room. She itched to take a phaser and tricorder herself, search through the lovely, dangerous woods for signs of the escaped traitor. And when they found her? Arrest her, bring her back to Voyager for trial? How could they keep her locked up in the brig indefinitely? Janeway measured the length of the room with slow strides. Almost preferable for that woman, that monstrosity wearing a face not her own, to die in a struggle or firefight. The captain had a vision of Seska dead, the pink flesh peeling back to reveal the cold grey lizard scales of Cardassian hide...

How had she been altered? Modification at the genetic level, the doctor had said. How else would her hair have kept growing out light and silky, not the hard coarse black she had been born with? But her entire epidermis, the huge neck tendons and flaring trapezius muscles: hideous surgery, flayed alive and wrapped again, slashed and reconnected, butchered. Every square centimeter of her ripped away and changed. How could the mind survive intact under such assault, even if willingly submitted to? How could one live serene in such a mutilated body?

And to reach out to a man, to lure him with limbs and complexion not one's own? Even her sexual organs had been transformed, apparently. Janeway had not inquired closely into the exact nature of Chakotay's relations with Seska; he had assured her nothing had passed between them while on Voyager. But he had been her lover at least once, that much was clear. He had had no inkling that the body he had embraced was a constructed shell. What must he have felt on learning that? How many nights had he lain awake, remembering her touch on his skin? Had he shuddered with horror, or wept with regret?

Janeway recalled her own restless nights, and poured herself another cup of coffee. She had no intention of sleeping until the away teams returned.

THE REPORTS CAME IN regularly from her first officer and security chief alike.

"Tuvok to Janeway. The scanners have picked up indications of a large underground complex, heavily shielded and impenetrable to sensors..."

"Chakotay to Janeway. We can't tell if there is anyone still in there. One thing is sure; the Kazon couldn't have built it..."

"Tuvok to Janeway. It is now entirely dark, and we are moving with caution. Commander Chakotay's team is two kilometers west of our position. Both teams are attempting to locate an entrance to the complex..."

"CHAKOTAY TO JANEWAY. Ensign Kim has picked up a slight ionization trace that could be a landing site. Tuvok's team is moving to meet us before we investigate further. If this is where a ship is concealed--"

"Harry! Get back--!"

A sizzling burst of weapons fire over the comlink--

"Commander! What's going on down there?"

It was a long moment before he answered. "There's a hatch opening--" She heard the snap of his phaser coming out of the holster. "Ensign Kim!" he roared. "Harry! Can you crawl back--Keep your head down, dammit! Remember your obstacle course training--" He cursed under his breath.

"Peters! Rutskoi! There, and there--get to the sides--" The high whine of Chakotay's phaser.

"Commander!" called another voice. "There's at least a dozen Kazon coming out!"

"Stay in the trees. Don't let them see how many of us there are-- Lieutenant, are you there?"

Tuvok's level tones. "We are presently one-half kilometer from your position, Commander, and are proceeding at a rate of speed that will bring us up to you in approximately three minutes and forty-two seconds."

"I'm getting you out of there, Commander," said Janeway. "Transporter room, have you maintained your lock on the party?"

"Captain, we just lost it."

"You what?"

"There's some kind of shielding field over the whole area. It wasn't there fifteen seconds ago. Trying to reestablish lock."

"Seska," she muttered. "Commander, can you retreat?"

"No, Captain. I've got a wounded guard, and Ensign Kim is pinned down in the open." BOOM! A tremendous detonation almost overloaded the comlink's sound dampers.

"...cussion grenade of some kind. There's another one hurt--" His phaser whined again.

"Got that one, sir!"

"Kim! I'm covering you--run, dammit!"

A pause, punctuated with sizzles and whines. Janeway gripped the edge of her desk in helpless fury. Seska knew Federation technology, all right--probably majored in it during her Obsidian Order training. Knew Chakotay's tactics, knew his mind, perhaps--

"Shit! Harry!"

"He's still alive, Commander! I can reach him if--"

"Stay where you are, Peters. Keep firing under the hatch if you can."

A rustle of grass and swift panting exhalations as Chakotay crawled along the ground. A young man's painful groan.

"I'm here, Harry. Can you move at all?"

"I don't know, sir--aagghkk!"

"Put your arm around my shoulders, Kim. I'll pull, you push."

"Commander! Watch out--"

Another sizzle, a cry from a deep chest--

"Report!" barked Janeway.

"Oh my God, Captain-- they got them both."

Janeway slumped into her chair. Killed? Kim and Chakotay...

"Captain, they're carrying them inside the hatch. Rutskoi too. I don't have a clear shot--"

"Mr. Tuvok--"

"We are just coming in sight, Captain."

A dizzying burst of sound from another grenade. Rough voices when the dampers cut out, and the thunderous slam of an armored door. Faint whines from outside, battering at the defenses.

The comlink went dead.

CONTINUED IN PART TWO

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