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From: crime@bu.edu (mary self)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: VOY: The Tie That Binds
Date: 3 Jul 1996 16:11:32 GMT
Organization: Boston University
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DISCLAIMERS: All original characters belong to Paramount. The story and any
other characters, including Hannah Jemison, are my creations.

NOTE: This is the fifth story in the Chakotay/Jemison series. I have used
the religion/philosophy of the Navajo as a basis for some of the
elements of Chakotay’s religion. However, I deliberately created my
own prayers for him to use. (I thought copying actual prayers would
be inappropriate.) I also endeavoured to stay away from religious
specifics for two reasons: first, my own ignorance of the
intricacies of the Navajos’ belief system and second, because I believe
that by the 24th century all religions would have evolved into
something different from what we see today, i.e., as human culture
changed, so would religion to meet its needs. That being said, it is
not my intention to belittle or misrepresent Native American
philosophies in any way, and if you feel that I have, I apologize
in advance.

The Tie That Binds

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1996

Part one

Tobacco

Chakotay let out a long sigh as he entered the mess. An hour for
recreation, another for dinner, and then five or so hours of fitful slumber
until his 2330 alarm. He hated the late shift. His body never fully adjusted
to the time difference. Just one of the perks of being a senior officer,
he thought, personal disquiet for one month, then three months of relative
normality. He smiled to himself. In an odd way it reminded him of the stories
his mother used to tell him about young children who wandered away and lived
with their animal brothers and how they would have to be coaxed back slowly
or be lost between the two worlds for good. The grin fell from his face.
Across the room, Hannah Jemison sat with Tom Paris sharing a laugh,
undoubtedly due to some witicism of Paris’. The first officer ground his
teeth, scanning the room for a friendly face. Torres sat with Kim, and he felt
reluctant to interrupt their animated conversation.
“Feeling the distance of office, Commander?”
He spun around. Kathryn–he would always think if her by that–stood
behind him, a small grin turning up the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps you
would care to join me?”
“Of course, Captain.” A relieved smile briefly lit up his features.
No one liked eating alone.
They got their trays and sat down two tables away from Jemison and
Paris. Jealously, he watched Hannah’s grey eyes light up as the two officers
bantered back and forth. She had a quick wit, and he wondered if the pilot was
up to the challenge. To his immense disappointment, it appeared Paris was.
“Commander, have you heard a word I said?”
He looked down at his plate. “No, Captain. I’m sorry. Not very good
company, am I?”
“I’ve had better. And I’ve had worse. It’s never easy, is it?”
“What?” His fork stabbed some greyish-green buttons, which Neelix had
assured him were vegetables.
“Seeing someone you care about with another.”
His eyes darted to Hannah, then back to his plate. “What’s done is
done. Life goes on,” he replied.
“Yes, it does.” The Captain took a bite of something purple, grimaced
and swallowed. “Although between you and me, it won’t if you eat this.” Her
fork nudged the violet mound.
Chakotay grinned. “My lips are sealed, to the critique and the food.”
Janeway let out a throaty laugh, which caused Hannah to glance over.
Briefly, he held her gaze before she looked away.
“On another topic,” the Captain continued. “The Riatans have reported
trouble with one of their hydroponic production facilities. A fungus of some
sort, and in return for some supplies, I’ve agreed to send them our assistance.
I thought Lt. Jemison and Ensign Salaar would be the logical choice. What do
you think?”
“How could I disagree? Jemison is our science officer and Salaar’s
background in fungii would make her an obvious choice. Have you informed
them?”
Janeway nodded. “Yes. They depart in a shuttle at 1100 hours and
return at 2300 hours, unless problems arise with eliminating the fungus.”
“Sounds all right. Just the two of them?”
“Yes. Riata isn’t very far. They should be fine. It’ll be a test for
Jemison as well, leading her first away mission.”
Chakotay chewed his last bite of food. All in all, only a mildly
disgusting meal. “Well, Captain, I hate to eat and run, but duty calls in
under six hours. I think I’d best be going.”
“Understood. Pleasant dreams, Commander.”
“Same to you.” Locking his sights on the doors, he steered himself
out of the mess without another glance at the two officers seated less than two
meters away.
When he reached his dark quarters, he removed his uniform and stretched
out on the bed. Weeks had passed since Hannah’s head lay on the pillow next to
his. He could almost see her pale body, luminous against the dark sheets.
He missed holding her the most, or maybe touching her, hearing her sigh as he
caressed every centimeter of flesh, sometimes tracing and re-tracing the tattoo
with his fingers.
The tattoo. He had practiced drawing the damn thing for a week before
committing it to her stomach. A raven. A creator. A trickster. All of
Hannah’s hidden talents. “I never lied to you . . . I wanted to be a part of
your life.” And he pushed her away proud fool that he was, leaving the door
wide open for Paris. It didn’t take that opportunist long. Lunch, dinner,
Sandrine’s. Had they-? No, it was best not to wonder. This was Paris,
after all. He had to face facts. He had lost her. With a groan, he rolled
onto his side and stared at the empty pillow before angrily flipping over,
away from the offensive reminder. What was done was done. Life continued,
and right now, he needed sleep.
At 2400 hours he relieved Tuvok from his watch. No major concerns.
A small disturbance had occurred at Sandrine’s–Porter and Francisco again.
Cartography had finished mapping their present location and had moved on to
sector one-five. And Baxter had dislocated his shoulder for a third time,
with the Doctor threatening to amputate the arm if it happened a fourth time.
He eased himself into the Captain’s chair. At least for the next twenty-four
hours, he was in no danger of seeing Voyager’s newest couple.

1900 hours. Chakotay lay on his back staring into the darkness above
his bed. He wasn’t sure exactly what had triggered the memory. Maybe it was
watching Wildman and her daughter at dinner, which made him think of his
own son, which made him think of his father. Whatever slender thread of
thought had led him here, he could remember the moment clearly and that
surprised him because he had been so young and excited.
It was the day before his departure for the Academy. The charcoal sky
had threatened rain all day. He hoped it would hold off. His friend, Hoa,
planned a party for later, and he knew Manya would be there with her slim legs
and trilling laugh.
As he was getting ready, his father called to him, and together they
walked down one of the dusty, red clay paths which separated the crops in
the fields. When they reached the rows of tobacco, Kolopak knelt down beside
a large green plant.
“What is this, Chakotay?” His father’s broad hand caressed the veined
surface of a leaf.
“Tobacco, Father.” He answered impatiently. His friends were waiting
for him back in the village.
“Yes, but it is more than that. What happens when we smoke it?”
“It binds us together. We become one people with one heart.” He had
memorized the correct response years ago.
“And you have smoked it with me, haven’t you? With your brother, your
uncles, all of your family?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. And what does that tell you?”
“That we are united. We are a family.”
The older man shook his grey head, staring at him with that all-too-
familiar expression of pity. “No, it is more than that. You are not a child
anymore, Chakotay. You are a man. There are consequences for your actions and
you must learn to live with them. Against my wishes, you have chosen to
leave us. I cannot stop you. But wherever you go, you will still be with us.
You are a part of us. When the time comes, you will realize we are also a part
of you, and when you choose to come home, you will be welcome. Remember this.”

His body twisted in the sheets, his left arm falling across the second
pillow. Half-awake, he rolled away from the emptiness and stared at the
chronometer. A few more minutes and he would have to get up. He groaned.
Another restless night.
“Tuvok to Commander Chakotay.”
Sighing, he stretched over and turned on the lights, blinking in the
unwelcomed brightness. “Chakotay here.”
“Commander, it is 2300 hours, and we have had no word from the shuttle
or Lt. Jemison.”
“What?” He bolted up. “What do you mean there’s been no word?”
“Precisely what I said. She contacted us once at 1910 to inform us of
her departure, but since then, we have received no additional communications.
Long-range sensors do not detect the shuttle or its engine signature.
I thought you would want to know.”
Chakotay kicked back the covers, slipping quickly out of his pajamas.
“Have you informed the Captain?”
“I have.”
Snatching up his uniform, he dashed into the bath. “I’ll be there in
five minutes. Chakotay out.”
The lift felt as though it took twenty minutes instead of the usual
thirty seconds to get from his deck to the bridge, and he counted out loud,
reaching eighteen-one-thousand when the doors finally opened.
“What’s the story, Tuvok?”
“Exactly the same as when I initially informed you, Commander,” the
Vulcan stated with an irritating serenity. “The Captain is contacting the
Riatan authorities, and she has instructed that we adjust our course to match
the shuttle’s and begin thorough scans. So far, we have detected neither the
shuttle, nor its debris.”
“Understood. I’ll take over now and continue the search.” That word,
debris, thrown out so cooly by the security chief, echoed unpleasantly in
his ears.
“Commander, my shift does not end for another forty-seven minutes.”
“I am aware of that, Lieutenant, but as of this moment, I am relieving
you. Is that clear?”
Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Commander, quite clear. I yield the
bridge to you.”
Chakotay sat down in the Captain’s chair and activated the viewscreen
to his left. “Ensign Carreras, patch this monitor into the sensor array.
I want to view the results as they come in.”
“Yessir.”
The screen lit up with incoming data. Nothing. He sat quietly. Tuvok
was cold, but not inefficient. Had he really thought he could spot something
the Vulcan hadn’t? Sitting forward, his eyes flicked over the flood of data.
“Maintain heading. One-half impulse.”

Nine hours later, the ship crept forward, her long-range sensors
stretched to their limits. At conn, Ensign Bathart tapped first his index,
then his middle finger on the cool, tri-polymer display. Chakotay continued
to stare at the monitor, ignoring this minor interruption in the stillness.
Something. There had to be something, some clue. Nothing. He sighed heavily.
“Report.” Captain Janeway strode onto the bridge followed closely by
a frowning Lt. Paris.
The first officer rose to his feet. “Nothing, Captain. No sign of the
shuttle. Did the Riatan authorities know anything?”
“Not a thing. The ship left their immediate space at 2100 hours with
no report of trouble.” She turned toward conn. “Mr. Paris, bring us to course
two-five-seven mark three-one. I’m widening our search pattern. Even if
something did happened, we should have located them by now on our current
heading.”
“Two-five-seven mark three-one,” the young man repeated. “Course
laid in.”
“Engage,” she ordered as she took her seat.
Sitting down beside her, Chakotay turned his attention back to the
monitor. His right eye stung with fatigue. He blinked twice and rubbed both
of them, stifling a yawn with mild facial contortions.
“Chakotay, have you had breakfast yet?” Janeway leaned over the arm
of the chair to whisper.
He glanced up. “Hm? No, Captain.”
“Then, I am ordering you to the mess. I don’t want to see you back on
this bridge for at least an hour.”
“Captain-”
She raised her hand, and he knew it was useless to protest. “One hour,
Commander. That’s an order. I’ll notify you immediately if we find anything.”
“Yes, Captain.” With a tired smirk, he hauled himself to his feet and
trudged to the lift. “Deck 2.”
The mess was almost empty when he entered. Four crewmembers sat at a
table and two others sat on the sofa. The young woman on the sofa laughed, and
he felt a twinge in his chest. A shared cup of coffee a few days ago, a
shared laugh. It had almost been like old times, and they had both known it.
“Commander.” Neelix bustled out of the kitchen. “You look in need of
nourishment. I think I can re-heat some of this morning’s throck pudding, and
I believe there’s some chuli fruit left and maybe some-”
“Just coffee, Neelix. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re out of coffee.” The cook wagged a pudgy finger
at him. “Besides, that’s hardly a proper breakfast. You’re getting as bad as
the Captain, skipping meals and consuming only coffee. Now, what can I get
for you?”
Chakotay shrugged. He was too tired to argue. “All right, some toast
and juice, then.”
“That’s better. Now you sit right down here, and I’ll be back with
your order before you can say subnitricphosphate.” The Talaxian tapped the
side of his head and grinned. “Picked that one up from Kes.”
He returned in an instant with two pieces of toast and a glass of
yellow juice. “Here we are.”
“Thanks, Neelix.” Chakotay bent over the food as if he was ravenous,
fearing the cook would change into his guise of morale officer.
“You’re welcome, Commander. Enjoy.” After a friendly pat on the
shoulder, the Talaxian returned to the kitchen.
Chakotay took two bites then pushed aside the food. Even heaped with
jam, the toast had no taste. Sighing in frustration, he waited for Neelix’s
back to turn before he dumped the food down the reclamator and escaped out
the door. Forty-eight minutes left. Sleep wasn’t the answer. His mind was
too unsettled. Maybe one of the holodecks was free.

The Tie That Binds

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1996

Tobacco, cont.

“Computer, run program Chakotay-four-alpha.” Clad in sweats, he stood
impatiently at the doors to holodeck two.
“Program running. You may enter when ready.”
The doors slid open and the bright light of day beckoned. Home, or
at least as close as he could come. It was a variation of the program he had
created for Hannah, but in this version the early morning sun rose over
the hill behind him as he stood on the floor of the valley. A light breeze
blew through the grasses and trees, shaking dew from the leaves. Hidden in the
branches above him, a bird called out a hoarse good-morning to its mate, who
answered from a nearby tree.
He walked along the road which encircled the fields, his footsteps
frightening a gnatcatcher out of a nearby bush, and he watched it rise in a
flurry of yellow feathers into the safety of a roundnut tree. To his right,
a red and black striped lizard poked its head out from beneath some fallen
leaves and studied him carefully with beady black eyes.
The course was so familiar, all the way to the end of the fields,
around them and back. Gradually, he quickened his pace, his feet pounding,
then almost gliding across the dusty earth as he finally found his stride.
Rows of corn flashed past, followed by the beans. Then, the squash.
The chiles. The sweet peppers. The tomatoes. He peeled away his shirt, the
flow of air whisking beads of sweat off his chest. His throat burned, and his
tongue darted around his mouth seeking moisture. When he was a young man, he
ran the distance twice, easily; one time, he even ran it three times on a dare;
but now, his body grew tired halfway through the return leg. He sucked in a
lungful of needed oxygen. He had almost reached the tobacco. Only a few more
meters, then turn.
“Janeway to Chakotay.”
He halted, panting hard. “Chakotay here.”
“We’ve found the shutt-”
“I’m on my way. Computer, end program,” he shouted, snatching up his
shirt.
When he reached the bridge, Janeway stood beside Tuvok at Tactical.
“What’s the story?” he asked breathlessly.
“We’ve picked up the shuttle on long range sensors, Commander.” The
security chief reported. “It has sustained some damage and is currently adrift
without life support.”
“I’m not reading any lifeforms.” Harry Kim called over. “The shuttle
is empty.”
Kathryn’s worried eyes met his. “Mr. Kim, tractor the shuttle on
board. Janeway to Torres. B’Elanna, I want an engineering crew to go over
every centimeter of that craft. We still have two crewmen missing,
and I want some answers. Lt. Paris, scan the surrounding area of space and
see if you can pick up anything out of the ordinary.” She shook her head.
“I just don’t understand what could have happened. Before I agreed to the
mission, the Riatans assured me that there had been no hostile activity in this
sector for months.”
“Captain, I’m picking up the remnants of a warp trail.” Paris
announced from conn. “Bearing one-two-eight mark six-seven. It’s very faint
and is dissipating quickly.”
“Lt. Torres, do you have anything to tell me yet?” She asked.
“According to the ship’s sensor logs, the shuttle was tractored on
board a ship, which doesn’t match any ship on file. My guess is that the
shuttle was released after Jemison and Salaar were taken on board.”
Chakotay almost sighed with relief. “Well, in that case, we know it
wasn’t the Kazon; they would’ve kept the ship.”
Kathryn continued to frown, taking little comfort in his observation.
“Mr. Paris, plot a course along that warp trail and engage at warp nine.”
“Aye, Cap’n. Warp nine.
“Janeway to Mr. Neelix. Could you please report to the bridge? It’s
urgent.”
“Yes, Captain. I’m on my way.”
A few minutes later the lift doors slid apart.
“Captain, you wanted to see me?” The Talaxian’s gaze darted between
the three senior officer’s clustered around Tactical.
“Yes, Neelix. Two of our crewmembers have been kidnapped. We don’t
know by whom. I was hoping you might be able to throw some light on this by
identifying the captor’s ship and their possible destination.”
“I’ll do my best.” The amber eyes peered at the screen. “I don’t
recognize the ship, but on this heading, we will enter the Wolon system. Many
crews have vanished in this sector.”
“Vanished?” Janeway repeated.
“Yes, Captain. Ships have been found adrift without their crew, but
many others have passed through without incident. To be honest, I always tried
to stay clear of the area.”
Tuvok met Chakotay’s dubious gaze and raised one eyebrow, inclining his
head in silent agreement. “Captain, the dissipation of the warp trail
indicates the ship has at least a ten hour head start. The trail will not
remain detectable to our sensors for much longer.”
“So noted. Neelix, can you tell us anything more about this area of
space?”
“Well, hundreds of years ago, this sector was under the control of
the Cassic. They were a powerful people, and colonized many of the planets in
this area by force. But about three hundred years ago, they abandoned their
conquests, and became very insular, to the point of withdrawing from well-
established colonies. No one has heard from or seen them in a long time.
Legends have it that they died out either from disease or from internal dissent
which led to civil war. No one really knows the truth.”
“And the crews that vanished, have any of them ever resurfaced?”
Chakotay asked.
“No, Commander, not that I’m aware of. I’m afraid that is all I know.”
Janeway flashed the alien a tight-lipped smile. “You’ve been a big
help as it is, Neelix. Thank you.”

Chakotay’s fingers drummed on the mess hall table. Most of the salad
remained on his plate; lunch, like breakfast, had little taste. He bolted down
a few bland bites and looked across the dining hall to where Paris sat
with Kim. What was it Hannah saw in the irritating jackass? True, the young
man had become an almost model officer, risking his own life time and time
again to save the ship and his fellow crewmates, and yet occasionally,
something in that pale, mocking face sent shivers up Chakotay’s spine. An
undefinable apprehension similar to what he had felt waiting in the cave on
his first vision quest.
Total darkness had surrounded him then, and little by little, he had
lost track of time. He had huddled in the chilly dampness, hungry and alone,
listening to the water drip off the rocks and splash into an invisible well.
He had prayed and waited with sharp rocks between his toes to keep him awake.
He had been so afraid. He didn’t want to die there, by himself, in the dark.
Then, an icy wind had whistled down around him, a high-pitched
whine which had frozen him to the bone, and in its swirling mist, he had seen
his ancestors. Some had ridden horses; some had run; others had simply stood
there. One image in the group had finally stepped before them all, and he had
recognized it as his grandfather, who had died years before. At first the
elder had only stared at him in a sad, pitying way, but when the old man spoke
his name in that ghostly voice, he had shaken so hard he had thought the rock
would crumble around him and he would be buried in the darkness forever.
Summoning the last of his strength, he had scrambled to his feet and
run, stumbling toward the cave entrance, until he emerged into the heated
blindness of midday. After his heart had stopped pounding, he had slowly made
his way back home, where, ashamed of his fear, he had told his family he hadn’t
seen anything, that he had failed. His father had gazed long and hard
at the bruises and scrapes, but had said nothing, and in his heart, he had
known Kolopak had seen past the lie.
Three years later, his brother had made the same journey, recounting a
tale of a magnificent eagle, who had shown him the land of their forefathers.
He had been so jealous of that vision, as jealous as he was of Paris now.

“I do not appreciate this interruption, Captain.” The green-skinned
face on the viewer bore a remarkable resemblance to a Kazon. “We are in the
middle of a Baktoi, a most important rite to our young men.”
Janeway nodded solemnly. “I apologize for the intrusion, Minister, and
believe me, I wouldn’t contact you if it was not absolutely necessary.
You see, we recovered one of our shuttles a few hours ago, minus her crew.
Sensors indicated one of your ships was in the area at the time. We were-”
“Just what are you implying, Captain?”
“I’m not implying anything. We were simply hoping that your ship might
have seen something or offered them aid.”
The dark eyes shifted, and the head tilted upward so that the gaze
rolled off the tip of the green nose. “I highly doubt it. We try to keep
contact with inferior species to a minimum. Had such contact occurred, I would
have heard about it. Now, if you will excuse me.” The screen went blank.
“What a helpful guy.” Paris commented.
“Captain,” Chakotay said quietly. “I’m no Betazoid, but every
instinct I have tells me he was not being truthful.”
“I agree, and personally, I don’t take kindly to being referred to as
an inferior specie. Mr. Kim, scan the surface for any anomalous readings or
lifeforms.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the ensign replied. “This is strange. Captain, in spite
of all the buildings on the surface only a small area seems to be occupied by
any lifeforms, approximately one to two thousand humanoids. I’m also reading a
wide area of EM interference north of the city.”
“Could it be a natural phenomenon?”
“I’m not sure. Sensors are having a difficult time penetrating it, but
by its signature, I’d have to say it is artificially created, as if someone
doesn’t want us to see what is down there.”
Chakotay leapt up the stairs and stood beside Kim. “Can we adjust the
sensors to penetrate it?”
“I think so. It’s a wide area, but the field is on a non-rotating
frequency. There. Sensors should work now, but transporters will take
slightly longer to modify.”
The Captain nodded. “Understood. What do you see?”
“A forest, one river, a couple of tributary streams. There
is a band of twenty lifeforms, fifteen of which are humanoid, moving in a
westerly direction. It looks like a hunting party of some sort, the way they
are spread out. Wait a minute, I’ve found them, Captain. About 50 meters
ahead of the group, I’m picking up one human and one vulcan female. From their
speed, I’d say they were running. Captain, one of the humanoids just fired an
energy weapon in their direction.”
“What! Tuvok, get the Minister back.”
“No response to our hail, Captain.”
Paris looked back at Janeway. “Captain, we’ve go to get down there and
help them.”
“I realize this, Lieutenant. Mr. Kim, what is the status of the
transporters?”
“Not yet, Captain.”
“Inside the field,” Chakotay noted. “Not outside. I could take an
away team down and look for a way to get them out of the field on the surface.”
Kim’s hand smacked the console. “They’ve changed course. They are
running toward the edge of the field, and they aren’t stopping. They- Oh god.”
The young man looked up, shock frozen on his face. “Captain, one of them hit
the field. She’s gone. Vaporized.”
Chakotay’s hand gripped the console, his knuckles turning white.
“Which one?” he whispered.
“Sensor’s read only a human lifeform now. It must have been Salaar.”
The first officer glanced at Janeway. “Captain-”
She nodded. “Go ahead, Commander.”
He flashed her a tight grimace. “Tuvok, you’re with me. Baxter,
Sanchez, meet us in Transporter room two, and bring two phaser rifles. We may
encounter resistance.”
In two minutes, the party materialized on the surface. Tuvok whipped
out his tricorder as Chakotay tapped his commbadge.
“Where is Jemison now, Mr. Kim?”
“She’s about 30 meters ahead of the men, running a parallel course
to the field.”
Barking reached the away team’s ears. Dogs!
“Commander, initial readings indicate that this field is maintained by
strategically placed conductors. If we knock out a sufficient quantity, the
field should weaken enough for us to enter and rescue the Lieutenant.” Tuvok
said.
“Fine, fine. How many and where?”
“I believe five should meet our needs. Ensign Sanchez, aim your rifle
at that small collection of stones on top of that boulder. Lt. Baxter, aim
yours into that tree, third branch from the bottom. Commander, aim yours at
that small log, and I will aim at that second tree from the left. Maximum
settings. Fire.”
Sparks erupted from the four targets. “Good.” The Vulcan observed.
“The field strength in the immediate area has decreased by eighty-seven
percent. One more lost conductor should allow us safe passage.” The security
chief aimed at another tree and fired.
Through the trees, Chakotay saw a racing figure, close behind her were
several large animals. A shower of sparks fell on her and she stumbled, but
kept going.
“Hannah!” Charging the field, he didn’t stop to check its strength and
felt a weak charge tingle in his skin as he passed through. The animals
were too close. If she went down, he might not reach her first. A light
flashed, and she fell. Crashing through the trees, he slipped on the
dry leaves and slid to the ground beside her. He fired at the approaching
creatures, and the lead animal fell, causing the others to halt, sniffing at
the dead creature.
Sparks rained down from above. He covered her body with his own as a
tree limb dropped beside them. At the sound of running footsteps, he raised
his head. Tuvok and the other two members of the away team surrounded them,
pointing their phasers at the group of approaching men.
“How dare you! How dare you interfere!” A being resembling a green-
skinned Talaxian shouted.
Tuvok stared at the alien. “I believe the more appropriate question
would be how you assume the right to kidnap and hunt our crewmembers. Your
actions have resulted in one, perhaps two deaths.”
Chakotay gently rolled Hannah over. She was breathing and her pulse
was strong.
“She’s not dead. She’s only stunned.” The male informed them. “And
the other one would still be alive, if they had followed the rules. They
should be honored to participate in our Baktoi.”
“Willing participation?” The first officer grunted, taking Hannah in
his arms and struggling to his feet.
“Put her down!” The young man demanded. “She is mine. You have no
right to take her. By the rules of the Baktoi, I have won her.”
“Won her?” Chakotay repeated in disbelief. “You mean kidnapped and
shot her. You are the one with no right to her!”
Twigs snapped behind the away team, and more green humanoids stepped
out from behind the trees. Surrounded.
“That is where you are wrong. By stunning her, I have won the hunt.
Now, if you will- what the? Get them!” The young man sputtered as the
prisoners disappeared in a shower of lights.
As soon as they materialized in Sickbay, Chakotay lay Hannah gently on
a biobed, then stepped back to allow the Doctor room.
“Encouraging,” the hologram muttered. “Considering what happened to
Ensign Salaar, I wasn’t sure what to expect. She will make a full recovery.”
Before Chakotay could inquire how she was, the ship rocked beneath
his feet.
“Janeway to Chakotay and Tuvok. Please report to the bridge.”
He scowled. He wanted to stay here, but duty came first. “On our way.
Doctor, will you inform me the moment she regains consciousness?”
“Of course, Commander.”
Within seconds, Tuvok and he were back on the bridge under the flashing
lights of a red alert.
“Break orbit!” Janeway yelled.
“It’s no good.” Kim informed her. “Three ships are coming through the
planet’s atmosphere. They’re going to try and cut us off.”
“Hail the lead ship.”
The Minister appeared on the viewscreen. “Captain, I must insist you
return the female to us immediately. She is necessary for the completion of
the Baktoi.”
“NO!” The word leapt from his lips before Chakotay could stop it.
“My first officer speaks for me.” Janeway responded. “I will not
allow my people to be hunted no matter how important the ritual is to you.”
The Minister frowned. “We are not the barbaric people you believe us
to be, Captain. We do not hunt for the joy of it. The Baktoi was created to
preserve the peace, as well as our race.”
“Your race?”
“Yes. Hundreds of years ago, the male of our specie contracted
an incurable disease which proved harmless to them, but deadly to our women.
Female infants either died within an hour of birth or were miscarried, and
during the birthing process, the disease was transmitted from the infants to
the mothers, who died within a week. Only the male infants survive. Our
civilization, once vast in its reaches, began to crumble due to internal
fighting among our young men over the few healthy women that remained, but soon
those women died, too. Therefore, we were forced to look beyond our
specie, and fear of reprisals from our former colonies led us to do so in a
less than honorable way. Detaining crews also insured that the number of
women eligible for mating remained small, and the fighting only worsened.
The Baktoi was designed to eliminate this problem. The female is not injured,
and every male that participates abides by the rule that the man who stuns her
wins the right to sire offspring by her. As you may have noticed, my own
mother was Kazon. She survived my birth by a week and a half. It is not a
solution we like, Captain, but it has insured the survival of our race. And
that is why I must insist you return the female to us. Core has won the
right to sire a child by her; this may be his only chance.”
“I sympathize with your problem, Minister, but not your method of
dealing with it. I will not allow any of my crew to participate unwillingly
in such a solution.”
“Then, we will take her back by force, and you may find yourself
participating in our Baktoi, Captain. Think about it. One female or your
ship.”
The Captain leveled her gaze at the humanoid on the viewscreen. “I
do not respond well to threats, Minister, and I will not surrender my crewman.”
“Very well.” The image vanished.
“Captain, the three ships are maneuvering into attack formation.”
Paris said.
Janeway spun on Tuvok. “What is your analysis of their ships’
capabilities?”
“Their shields are no match for our weapons. A few strategic hits
should render them inoperable.”
The ship shuddered around them.
“Direct hit.” Kim noted. “Shields are holding. Minor damage to decks
twelve and fourteen.”
“Mr. Tuvok, return fire.”
“Firing phasers. A direct hit. One of the ships has lost its shields,
and the other two are withdrawing. Perhaps they concluded it was illogical
to risk their limited population on such a full-scale assault.”
“Perhaps. Mr. Paris, put us back on our original course, warp eight.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Engage.” Janeway sat down and activated her monitor. “Report,
Doctor.”
“Aside from being stunned, the Lieutenant’s most serious injuries are
a twisted ankle and minor cuts and abrasions. I could wake her, if you wish.”
“No, let her sleep, Doctor. She’s been through a lot over the past
twenty-four hours. Notify us when she wakes.”
“Understood, Captain. Sickbay out.”

The Tie That Binds

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1996

Tobacco, cont.

Before the start of the evening shift, the Doctor contacted the bridge
to say that Lt. Jemison had regained consciousness. With an upsurge of
jealousy, Chakotay noted the brief smile on Paris’ face before the young man
turned back to the helm. At 1600 hours, the pilot leapt up, barely
acknowledging his replacement, and disappeared into the lift. Chakotay almost
let out a growl of frustration, his own intention to leave subverted by a
scheduling question from Ensign Umori.
When he finally reached Sickbay, Paris was already there, holding
Hannah’s hand and stroking her forehead. Closing his eyes to the sight, he
turned to leave.
“Commander.” Her voice stopped him in his tracks.
Squaring his shoulders, he plastered a mask of concern on his face
before spinning around. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Tom tells me you’re the one who led my rescue. I wanted to
thank you.”
Chakotay nodded, moving closer to the bed. “How are you doing?”
The grey eyes darted about, never lighting on any one thing for very
long. “I’m not sure. In a way, I still have trouble believing this is
Voyager.”
“When you take me to the cleaners at Sandrine’s, you’ll believe it.”
Paris smiled, his slim fingers feathering her cheek. “You just wait and see.”
One corner of Hannah’s mouth turned up. “I suppose.”
The pilot’s smile broadened. “You will.”
Chakotay swallowed hard, tightly clasping his hands behind his back.
“Perhaps we should let the Lieutenant rest, Mr. Paris.”
“A sound idea.” The Doctor remarked, stepping out of his office. “My
patient could use some rest, and she won’t get it with you two gentlemen
loitering about like prospective suitors.”
Hannah burst into a gravelled laugh; Paris flushed scarlet; and
Chakotay felt the heat rise in his own cheeks. He drew himself up stiffly.
“I believe you are mistaken, Doctor. I came by to check on Lt. Jemison
as a friend and as a first officer.”
The hologram shrugged. “Call it whatever you wish, Commander. It will
have to wait until morning. The Lieutenant needs sleep.”
The pilot gave Hannah’s hand a squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll stop
by tomorrow. Sleep well and call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
The warmth in Paris’ expression vanished when he looked at Chakotay.
“Commander,” he said, before striding briskly for the doors.
Chakotay felt two sets of eyes fall upon him. Directing a small nod of
encouragement at Hannah, he followed the younger man’s exit with his own.

The Doctor gave Hannah permission to leave Sickbay in the next
day’s morning report, and with an eye on beating Paris to the punch, Chakotay
restructured his morning schedule to leave him in the vicinity of Sickbay a
few minutes before noon. First, a casual chat, and then maybe lunch in the
mess if she felt up to it, he thought as he neared the doors.
Almost whistling with confidence, he strolled into Sickbay. “Good
morning, Lieutenant, or should I say afternoon?”
Hannah spun around, tucking a few loose strands of hair into her usual
bun. She was already in uniform. “Good morning, Commander. What brings you
here?”
“I knew you’d be leaving; so, I thought I would stop by and see if I
could interest you in lunch.” He paused. “Why the uniform?”
“I thought I would stop by the lab and put in a few hours. As for
lunch, I’m sorry, but I made other arrangements this morning.”
He almost smacked his forehead in disgust. How could he be so stupid?
Paris probably stopped by before the morning shift began. As his mind groped
for some graceful departure, the doors slid open behind him.
“Ready to go, Jemison?” The pilot entered, a wide grin spread across
his face.
“You bet. I’ve had enough of this place for a while. Was there
something else, Commander?”
“Nothing that won’t keep.”
“Then, let’s go, Paris. I’m starved.”
With a nod to the first officer, Paris encircled Hannah’s waist with
his arm and guided her out of Sickbay. Chakotay watched the doors close behind
them before he realized how tightly his fists had clenched. Chagrined, he
loosened his fingers.
The Doctor came out of his office. “Is there something I can do for
you, Commander?”
Surprised, he stared blankly at the hologram. “Do something? No,
there’s nothing anyone can do. Excuse me.”

He skipped dinner, heading to holodeck three for a run instead, eager
to hear the gravel crunch beneath his feet. “Computer, run program, Chakotay-
four-alpha.”
“Program is already running.”
“Already run- Who initiated it?”
“Program was initiated by Lt. Hannah Jemison.”
He gazed silently at the display, trying to decide whether or not to
enter. “Computer, how many people are in holodeck three?”
“There is only one crewmember using it at this time.”
Maybe she wanted to be alone. On the other hand, after all that
happened maybe she needed someone to talk to. “Computer, open the doors.”
He stepped onto the dry road. A meter away, a figure in a teal-
collared uniform stared out over the corn, the shoulder-length mahogany hair
flapping gently in the wind. He drew up beside her. “Mind if I walk
with you?”
A paler then normal face glanced up. “I’m afraid I’m not very good
company right now.”
“Neither am I, depending on who you ask.” He flashed her a quick
smile, which she only half-heartedly returned.
“I’ve never found that to be the case,” she said.
“At first you did.”
“That was before I got to know you. After that, I decided you weren’t
so bad.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
A small silence descended until they were halfway past the corn.
“I read Tuvok’s security report a little while ago.” She said.
“According to him, you charged through the field before he scanned it for
safe passage.”
“You needed help. I didn’t think to wait. Perhaps I should have.”
“You know you should have. You could have been killed. I don’t need
two deaths on my conscience.”
“If I hadn’t gone through, you wouldn’t have had to bear the guilt for
long. For all we knew at the time, their weapons were set to kill, not to
stun. How do you think I would’ve felt watching you die while Tuvok ran his
damn scan?” He paused. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken like that.
At the time, I did what I thought was right. You’re here; you’re alive.
That’s what matters.”
They reached the beans, the morning breeze gently fanning their faces.
He looked up at the sky. It was a crisp, clear blue, free of clouds, the kind
of blue which should fill a person’s spirit with hope. “You know, I’m
surprised to find you here. I thought you’d be eating dinner with Lt. Paris.”
“He invited me, but I declined. I told him I wanted some time alone.”
“Then, maybe I should-” He stopped in the middle of the road.
She shook her head and kept walking. “No. You can stay. I don’t
mind your company.”
They walked on a meter or so before he worked up the courage to speak
again. “You two spend a lot of time together. You like him, don’t you?”
“Tom makes me laugh. He helps me forget how-” Her mouth slammed shut.
“How what?” His curiosity peaked. The tone of voice was not what he
had expected; somehow it lacked the excitement new love often gave. “Hannah,
talk to me.”
She shrugged. “My mom’s birthday was three weeks ago, and I’ve been
thinking about her a lot lately. She doesn’t know her surviving child is still
alive, and I keep picturing her and my dad just sitting together alone in
their quarters. It’s an image I can’t get out of my mind, but Tom helps me
forget things like this. He makes me smile. He gets me drunk. Sometimes,
it’s almost like Chandler is here with me.” She roughly wiped a tear away with
the back of her hand.
Chakotay swallowed hard, the image of a runabout exploding once
again in front of him. “Hannah, I know I’ve said this before, but if there was
any way I could-”
“Please. Please don’t apologize anymore. You know, it’s funny, but I
think I even understand how you must have felt when the Galileo exploded. I
told Salaar to disobey the rules. I didn’t know the force field was there,
and because of my ankle, I couldn’t keep up with her.” She halted and stared
up at him, her eyes dark grey and pleading. “One minute she was running, and
the next, she was gone. She didn’t scream. She didn’t fall. She just
vanished, as though she had never even been there.”
He saw her lower lip tremble and he knew she was fighting tears.
“Hannah-”
A small cry escaped her throat, and she threw herself against his
chest. He wrapped his arms around her shaking body, hugging her close. The
fingers of his left hand burrowed deep into her hair and pressed her ear over
his heart.
“Hannah, it’s all right. It wasn’t your fault. You told her what you
thought was best. If you had known the field was there, your answer would have
been different.” His lips brushed the top of her head, and he inhaled the
scent of her shampoo. He missed the smell of Ocampan jasmine lingering on
the pillow next to him. He had almost forgotten its sweet fragrance. No, he
couldn’t forget it; it would still be with him even years from now, anytime he
walked into the airponics garden.
“Hannah, it’s all right. It’s one of the hazards of leadership out
here or in the Alpha Quadrant. At one time or another, you lose people under
your command. It’s painful; it’s unfair; but it happens. We aren’t perfect.
We make mistakes.”
She pulled her head away and looked up at him, tears glistening on her
face. “But how do you stand it? How do you deal with the pain and the guilt?”
He took a deep breath. “To be honest, sometimes I don’t, at least not
very well, and there is no one method that fits all people and all situations.
Sometimes I come here. Sometimes I talk to my guide. Sometimes I just walk
around the ship; it centers me, reminds me that I’m not alone, that others are
depending on me.” He stared deeply into the leaden eyes. “You aren’t alone,
either, Hannah. Whenever you need to talk, come to me. I’ll be here.
Remember that.”
She nodded. Then, a flush slowly crept into her cheeks and she
released him, twisting out of his arms. “I’m sorry, Commander. I didn’t mean
to go to pieces like that.”
Commander. Not Chakotay. Commander. He stiffened. Everything he had
just said had fallen on deaf ears. She would never come to him; pride wouldn’t
allow it. “That’s quite all right, Lieutenant. It was understandable, given
the circumstances.” Angry, he spun around and began walking away. No, he
wouldn’t let it drop, not this time. He turned back.
“Hannah, we should talk, and I don’t mean about what happened on the
planet. I mean about us.”
She drew a quick, audible breath. “I don’t understand. What is left
to say? I made a mistake. I admit that. I should have told you everything,
but I didn’t, and I’ve apologized. What more can I do?”
“How about forgiving yourself? I’ve forgiven you; I’ve told you that.
I also told you I want to keep your friendship, but all I’ve gotten recently is
the silent treatment.”
“That’s not true. We’ve talked.”
“Really? When? Almost everytime I turn around you’re with Paris,
and I don’t intend to make it a threesome.”
“Excuse me, but since we weren’t seeing each other anymore, I thought
I could spend time with whomever I choose. Or was I mistaken in that, too?
You’re the one who wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain myself.
You’re the one who said things would never be the same between us. Just what
is it you want from me, Commander?”
He stared down at the red dirt under his feet. What he wanted and the
options he had left open to himself were two very disparate things. How could
he tell her what her nearness did to him, the nervous warmth that rose out of
his belly and flowed slowly through every vein and artery, suppressing all
thoughts of reason with an older, instinctual craving. How could he tell
her that in spite of all that had happened between them, he wanted to make love
to her, right here, right now, in the middle of this dusty road with
the sky, the lizard, and the gnatcatcher as witnesses. He raised a hand to
touch her face, but stopped it in mid-air. Far beyond her, large leaves of
tobacco waved in the wind. She was right. There was no formal tie
between them. She was free to live as she chose. His hand dropped lifelessly
to his side.
“Nothing, Lieutenant. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll
leave now.” Turning away, he called for the exit.
As the doors shut behind him, he sagged against the corridor wall,
letting the metallic clang reverberate through his body. He wanted his heart
to hear it. The door was shut. There was no going back. Placing one
foot in front of another, he trudged off toward his room. He needed sleep.
Tonight would be his last late shift for another three months.

The Tie That Binds

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1996

Part two

The Valley
One Month Later

Somewhere it was raining. Yes, definitely raining because it was dark,
almost pitch black, and he could hear the thunder approaching, the way it did
over the hills back home with giant blue-black storm clouds tumbling over one
another in their race to blanket the sky. He lay on his stomach, his eyes
still closed. A searing bolt of lightning ripped across the horizon; so he
lay there quietly and waited for the storm to pass.

They had left Voyager the previous morning in a shuttle. The trip
through the planet’s atmosphere promised to be risky, but the plasma storm,
which erupted without warning, proved more treacherous than expected. It took
all of Chakotay’s skill to guide the battered craft down to the rocky surface.
Initial sensor readings said the planet was uninhabited, and a quick
visual of the surface told anyone why. Thick, charcoal clouds kept the surface
windswept and barren, except for the isolated outcropping of scrubbrush, and
how that survived was a mystery because little light penetrated the dense
atmosphere. All across the landscape jagged towers sliced haphazardly through
the ground, creating tiny raw valleys surrounded by walls of rock pockmarked
with caves and overhangs.
He landed in one of the valleys. The shuttle was badly damaged, with
one of the nacelles almost sheared off by the storm. The three of them were
trapped until Voyager missed them at the rendezvous point, but they were
uninjured and in a good position to survive the next two to three days.
The native rock was high in magnacite concentrations, which made even
surface scans with tricorders highly inaccurate. So it wasn’t until Nicoletti
screamed that he and Sanchez looked up to find themselves surrounded by Kazon.
Their ship had crashed five years ago, and only a handful, seven or so,
had survived. At first, they just wanted the shuttle so they could leave, but
when they discovered it wouldn’t fly, they became enraged, beating Sanchez and
him, as if the two of them had willfully sabotaged the only means of escape.
The Kazon then escorted their new prisoners to the remains of their own ship
and threw them into a cell.
Nicoletti, the attractive engineer, died first. Five years of
isolation on this world had left the Kazon starved for female company. Their
leader claimed her for himself, and clumsily tried to rape her while the others
held Sanchez and Chakotay away at phaser point. She fought hard and well.
In the end, the male grasped her around the neck and slammed her repeatedly
against the wall in frustrated rage. The final time, her head snapped back,
hitting the metal with a resounding crack. She stared past the Kazon at
Chakotay, her eyes wide in surprise. Her mouth opened and blood poured out
before she crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud. Since then, her body
had remained in the cell with them.

One eye cracked open and he peered through the slit of matted lashes
at his surroundings. The cell. Yes, the cell. He could remember now.
He tried to move, but pain ripped through his body, sudden and brutal, like the
storms on the surface. He lay on his stomach, one arm crushed beneath
him. They were only toying with him. They knew which bones were shattered,
which joints were mangled. He didn’t even bother to scream anymore.
Sanchez? Where was Sanchez? He slowly raised his head. Oh God, it
hurt. He stared into the darkness. Over there, a black mass. Sanchez? His
dry throat crackled like burning tender. He wasn’t even sure if he had spoken.
The form didn’t move, and he lowered his head. It hurt so much.

“Of course, it hurts.” His mother scolded, her black hair pinned up
in a bun, the way she wore it when she cooked. “I told you it was fresh
from the oven.”
He didn’t reply, four throbbing fingers jammed tightly in his mouth.
The bread smelled so good. He had run all the way from the top of the small
hill, where he had been watching his father, grandfather, and uncles irrigating
the fields below.
“Here. Let me see, my little contrary.” She pulled the fingers from
his mouth. “You always have to find things out for yourself, don’t you, little
one? Oh, that’s not so bad. Here.” She took down a jar of herbed fat from
a shelf and smeared it over his fingertips. The pain reduced to a tingle,
and then stopped.
He watched her move the bread aside and return to chopping vegetables
for the night’s stew. A giant yellow squash stood in the sun drying. She had
already hollowed out its interior to use as a serving dish, and nearby the
seeds sat in a bowl waiting to be salted and roasted. He licked his lips; he
could almost taste their nutty flavor.

His tongue ran along the outside of his mouth, swollen, raw, and caked
with dried blood from the cut over his lip. How long had he lain here?
Voyager would be here soon, wouldn’t she? Sanchez? He raised his head.
No, Nicoletti. Why did they leave her here? She was dead. He couldn’t
save her.
He lifted himself up on one elbow and slowly brought his knees under-
neath his body. It took several minutes, each more excruciating than the last,
before he sat up, propped against the cold wall. His breath came in heavy, but
shallow gasps because of the pain in his ribs. He cradled his left arm in his
lap, the wrist twisted lifelessly off to the side. His right eye was so
swollen it would not open. He raised his right hand to his face. The whole
right side seemed to throb in different rhythms, and he could feel the blood,
thick and partially dried over the multitude of cuts and bruises.
The door to the cell slid open, and his left eye squinted in the light
it allowed inside. Something large and dark fell in a lump at his feet. He
heard a harsh laugh and a promise that he was next before the door shut.
The lump moved spasmodically, hissing and rattling like a sack full of
snakes. He drew his feet away, cringing against the wall. It rolled over, its
glassy eyes staring at him hypnotically. It drew an unsteady breath and called
his name. He sat there, frozen to the spot. It closed its eyes. The chest
rattled once, twice, and then fell silent, leaving him alone.

“Haiie!” He kicked the horse’s flanks, urging it up the precipitous
slope. Only a little farther. He pulled back on the reins and brought the
roan to a bellowing stop, its hooves pounding the ground clumsily in
mid-stride. His dog, Tikal, trotted up beside them, its tongue hanging out.
They stood on top of the hill now, the tallest one of the four that
ringed his village. Throwing one leg over the mare’s back, he slid to the
ground and sat down. The summer sun was setting over the opposite hill,
filling the sky with oranges, reds, pinks and purples. Tikal wandered up and
lay down beside him, placing its muzzle on his knee. He stroked the shaggy
brown and white head and received a warm lick of affection in return.
Here, alone on this hillside, he found the quiet he sought, a place
where he could think and dream of a life beyond the tiny cluster of adobes
nestled so securely in the valley below. The idea of flying to different
worlds, seeing new people and places intrigued him. Maybe life out there would
seem less claustrophobic, less restrictive, travelling from place to place,
always learning something new. It sounded ideal to him, but he knew his father
would disapprove, and his friends would not understand.
Perhaps his mother could talk to Kolopak. She was the one who had
encouraged him to read all those books as a child. She was the one who stayed
up late, helping him to prepare for exams at school. Wouldn’t she be
proud to have a son graduate from the Academy? Wouldn’t it please her to see
him step off a transport in uniform? He closed his eyes, inhaling the spicy,
sweet smells of cooking rising up from the homes. He could see her, tears
of pride falling from her dark eyes, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she
spotted him in the crowd of arrivals. Maybe then his father would realize that
he had been wrong.
A cool breeze stirred the tall grass, and Tikal raised its head,
the ears swiveling forward. The wind carried her voice up the hill.
“Chakotay!” He scrambled to his feet and leapt upon the horse. “Hee-yaa!”
He spurred the mare faster and faster down the hill, until its legs seemed
to run on the wind itself. Tikal raced to keep up.
His mother waited in the doorway, framed by the glow from inside the
house. She looked tired, the eyes red from strain. “Dinner is ready,
Chakotay. Hurry.”
Obediently, he slid off the horse and left it tied to the post by the
trough. Tikal followed him indoors. He stopped at the kitchen basin to wash
his hands and face before taking a seat at the table. His father raised a
stern eyebrow.
“Where have you been, Chakotay? You have kept us waiting.”
“I rode over to Naho to see the Star Fleet officers.”
Kolopak’s gaze travelled up the table to his mother before returning
to him. He waited for his father to say something, but the man remained
silent while they ate.
Twice, his mother grimaced and shifted her shoulders, and he glanced
at the loom. The blanket was almost finished. A star graced its center,
surrounded by images of the four cloud people; only the pale figure of Dawn Boy
was incomplete. His mother would need her neck rubbed tonight. Maybe he could
talk with her then about the Academy.
“I have made arrangements to leave for Earth in two weeks.” His father
announced. “And you will accompany me, Chakotay.”
“Two weeks? But in two weeks the Magellan will be stopping here. One
of the officers promised me a tour.” He had been waiting for over a month to
see the Constellation-class ship, ever since Captain Sulu said it might be
stopping by. “I can’t go. Take Kelo instead.”
“You are the older son, Chakotay. It is important that you come. When
I am gone, the family will be your responsibility. It is necessary for you to
know the history of our people.” A piercing glare fell upon him. “What is
more important? Your family or some starship?”
“My family, but-”
“No buts. You worry me, Chakotay. You act at times as if you have no
relatives. Without family, what is a man? He is nothing. He is lost. It is
the family which gives us meaning, which gives us life.”
“Yes, father.” He sighed. How many times had he heard this speech?
Too many times to count.
“Then in two weeks, you will leave with me for Earth.”
“But-”
“Enough!” His father thundered. “The matter is settled. Your star-
ship will have to wait.”

The Kazon came for him just as they promised. Now, he lay on his
belly where they dumped him, each breath slicing sharp and deep like a
scalpel. He opened his eye and stared at the blackened crusts which had once
been his hands. At least, they didn’t hurt anymore; the damage to them was
too deep, irreparable, in his mind.
His body shook with pain. He had to turn over. He couldn’t stay like
this with his weight on his ribs. He bent his legs under him. Oh God, this
was going to hurt. On the count of three. One. . .Two. . .Three. A scream
echoed in the cell, and it startled him to hear it over the waves of pain
crashing down around him. He thought he had lost his voice a long time ago.
“Here, let me help you.” The tone was deep and soothing. “There,
that’s better, isn’t it?”
He lay still, breathing as lightly as his burst of effort would allow.
The voice echoed uncomfortably in his skull; yet he doubted its existence.
Sanchez? He heard a chuckle.
“No, not Sanchez.”
He opened his eye. In spite of the darkness, he could see the figure
clearly. A human male about his age, though it was hard to tell with
the beard, crouched bedside him, arms resting on knees. The eyes were a
piercing dark grey, their seriousness belied by the playful grin which crinkled
the sides of the mouth.
“I know you, don’t I?” The man asked, looking him over carefully.
“Yeah, I do. You were two years ahead of me at the Academy. I used to get
up in the morning, open my dorm blinds, and there you were, running, smooth
as silk. It was incredible. I used to watch you cross the compound on your
way back to the upper classmen’s dorm. Heck, I’ll be honest. I envied you,
always wished I could run like that. I figured you were practicing for the
marathon, but you never entered it. If you had, I would have put money
on you.” The grin widened. “I guess running to you was more than competition,
huh, Chief?”
The word still rankled him, but he could tell by the smile it wasn’t
meant unkindly. It was one of those frustrating nicknames upperclassmen gave
to freshman cadets, which had unfortunately stuck in his case. He nodded.
“I thought as much. You were quite a ladies’ man, too, as I recall.
Brought out the maternal instincts in all the female cadets with your shy,
quiet ways. My girlfriend was in a psych class with you. She said you were
always on time, in the front row industriously taking notes. Although, every
now and then, she said you would make some wry observation that would leave
the whole class in stitches. I guess it’s the shy, silent types you have to
watch out for, huh?” The figure laughed shaking a close-cropped head of
brown hair.
Chakotay closed his eye. He had enjoyed his years at the Academy, but
he had been an outsider, never quite fitting in, always on the fringes, always
frustrated. For four years, the power of his medicine bundle had wasted away
in the bottom drawer of his chest, covered by a blanket and a few sweaters he
never used. Instead of it, his morning run had brought him peace, preparing
him for the rest of the day by focussing the energy that might have gotten him
tossed out of the institution.
“Hey, Chief, you going to sleep on me?”
He opened his eye. A grey eye winked at him. “Am I that boring?”
Chakotay shook his head.
“That’s good. I guess you’ve got some girl on that ship you’re on,
huh? C’mon, sure you do. You can tell me. No? I’m surprised. I figured a
handsome man like you would have someone, even- Uh-oh, I hear something.
Sounds like someone’s coming.” A pale, cold hand squeezed his shoulder.
“Don’t let ’em get you, Chief. We made it through the Academy; we’re the best,
remember.”
The icy pressure on his shoulder faded. The figure was gone. The door
opened and a shaft of light fell across the floor. He closed his eye. Maybe
if they thought he was unconscious . . .
He listened to their footsteps. They stopped first at Sanchez; then,
they moved toward him. Quiet and loose. He had to stay loose.
A hand seized his bruised chin, roughly shaking his head. His brain
sloshed from one side of his skull to the other, and a whimper escaped. He
couldn’t stop it. A boot kicked him in the side, sending a shooting pain
across his chest. Groaning, his body rolled with the kick.
One of the Kazon said something, but he couldn’t make out the words.
He could only focus on the fading footsteps, and then, the darkness closed in,
burying him alive.

“Hey, Chief! You still with me?”
Chakotay opened his eye. The man crouched beside him again. The face
looked more familiar now. It had the same cocky mannerisms that he hated so
in Paris.
“That’s good.” A white smile lit up beneath the manicured mustache.
“You had me worried here for a while. I thought that kick might have been too
much. But you’re tough. You’ll make it.”
His lips cracked apart as he struggled to speak. “Who?”
“Does it matter? My grandmother always said once you start seeing
ghosts you’re done for anyway.” The image threw back its head in a long, harsh
laugh. “Don’t know if that’s true or not. Didn’t see any myself. I didn’t
have time. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Chief. You knew I wasn’t really here.
How could I be?”
The figure leaned closer and puckered its lips. “See, nothing. No
breath. Hee-hee, you should see your expression. I suppose your people have
different ideas about spooks and spirits, huh? Turn a dead man face down so
his spirit can’t rise and all that? Heck, when it all boils down, though,
dead is dead no matter who you are or what you believe.
“Maybe I should be a stern spirit and ask you if you’ve made peace with
yourself or if you’ve led a good, decent life.” The man paused and grinned.
“But that ain’t my style, Chief. You’ve heard of Admiral Prideaux, a giant of
a man with all the joviality of someone attending a funeral. Well,”
The voice lowered. “I’ll share a little story with you. Once he came to my
dad’s station for some diplomatic function or something, and I snuck a whoopee
cushion into his seat at the head of the table. Hee-hee. You should have seen
it. This pompous, granite-faced figure turning beet-red. Ha-ha. It was
hysterical. But you know what was funnier? Watching all the yes-captains
and lieutenants in his entourage trying to keep a straight face. Thank God,
my sister was too young to be there. She would’ve laughed and given the whole
thing away. She never was any good at keeping her feelings secret. If she
likes you, she likes you; if she doesn’t, you know it.”
The image sat down cross-legged and sighed. “Sometimes I worry about
her, you know. My kid sister, I mean. She’s a tough little cookie, but she
listened to me way too much. I told her all the wrong things. I didn’t know
it at the time, but I do now. Talk about learning things too late.”
The ghost sniffed and drew a thumb under each eye. “Funny, huh? That
we can cry and laugh and regret just like we did in real life. Some paradise.
Let me tell you, it’s no fun being dead. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s not
tough or anything. It’s just that, well, it’s just not fun. Maybe if I had
someone to share it with, hmm?” The man paused and winked. “Know any good-
looking female ghosts? I could show ’em a good time. No? Oh well. It’s no
fun being alone, Chief. Whether you’re here or there, it’s no fun being alone.
Maybe you have to live to be a hundred before you can find peace, or
one hundred eighty if you’re a Vulcan. That’s my advice: live to be a hundred,
Chief, and spend that time with someone you love. She’s out there waiting.
You’ve got to believe that.” Icicle fingers gripped his shoulder and squeezed.
“So long, Chief. See you in sixty-some-odd years.”
An explosion rocked the floor beneath him, and he heard angry shouts
and cries of pain coming from the corridor. Feet pounded past the cell, then
phaser shots, then more footsteps, which halted outside the door. He closed
his eye, and prayed for them to be friendly.
The door slid open. A tiny spotlight swept the room. Somewhere behind
it a voice muttered. “Oh sh*t!”

The Tie That Binds

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1996

Part Three
The Hilltop

The smell, or the lack of it, was what he noticed first. Then, someone
stroked his forehead, his mother maybe, the way she always did when he was sick
and tired and feverish. It felt good even when he woke up cranky, tangled in
sweat-soaked sheets. But he couldn’t smell his own stink now because he was
clean, as purified as he had been before he entered the cave when Kolopak had
dotted yellow pollen under his eyes and down his nose so the spirits would
recognize him as one of their children.
It was dark now, and he could hear the voices, the whispers of men and
women. He strained his ears, but could not understand what they said. What
were they talking about? He wanted to ask, but his mouth refused to work.
Sometimes, the voices would go away for a while. Each time they did,
his stomach would shake and tremble and tell him that he wasn’t ready to stay
in the cave. And each time, he would scream and try to run after them, begging
them not to leave him alone in the darkness, and somehow, the voices would
hear him and return. Someone would touch his cheek or brush his forehead,
and everything would be all right, and he would sleep for a time in peace.

Hannah sat beside the biobed, stroking the greying hair. One eye was
gone. The Doctor had removed it and then sealed the lid over the socket to
prevent further damage to the area. The swelling and bruising had disappeared,
and the broken bones had knitted. Her gaze wandered down his arms to his
hands, lumps of fresh pink flesh, the fingers fused together to allow the
damaged tissue to heal faster. His mouth twitched, for the fifth time in as
many minutes, and her fingers traced the movement as if trying to comfort
whatever dream disturbed his sleep. His head jerked away, and the left eye
blinked open, gazing first at the ceiling, then the walls, then at her.
He was alive. Alive and on Voyager. And *she* was smiling at him.
Something was wrong though; his vision wasn’t right. He blinked long and hard.
His right eyelid wouldn’t budge, maybe it was still swollen shut. His dry
tongue passed over cracked lips. “My eye?”
She shook her head. “It was too badly damaged. The Doctor removed it
and temporarily sealed the socket. He’s working on a replacement using a
sample of your DNA.”
“How long have I-?”
“You’ve been in Sickbay four days. The Doctor said it was amazing you
were still alive. You lost a lot of blood and were bleeding internally where
one of your ribs punctured a lung. Another hour down there and you probably
wouldn’t have made it.”
“Oh.” His mind weaved drunkenly, attempting to follow the path of her
words. He tried to remember all that had happened, but it drifted in and out
of his conscious mind like puffs of smoke, and maybe that was a blessing. He
knew Nicoletti was dead. Sanchez? Yes, Sanchez died, too. He alone survived.
The voices in the darkness. Dark. Pitch black. Blackened. His hands.
He lifted his head with difficulty. Flippers. He almost laughed. Pink
flippers. No fingers. Just pink flippers with tiny nails.
“The plasma did a lot of damage, not just to the skin, but to the
nerves.” She said. “The Doctor plans to separate the fingers tomorrow if all
goes well, but you’ll have to use neural enhancers to control their movements.
It’ll be temporary. With the enhancers and therapy, you should regain near
normal use in a few weeks.”
He nodded and fell back upon the pillow. Near normal use. What was
near normal use for flippers? Swimming? He looked away from her and closed
his eye.
“Tired?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to stay? I don’t mind, really.” Her hand brushed
his cheek.
He tried not to flinch. “No, I’ll be all right. Just tell Kes or
the Doctor.”
“All right. I’ll stop by later. Sleep well.” She tucked the sheet
about him, and he could hear the disappointment she tried to conceal in
her voice.

Chakotay stared down at the ten uncontrollable strips of pink flesh.
The Doctor had separated his fingers that morning, and Hannah had stopped by at
noon to spoon-feed him his lunch. He hadn’t eaten much. Food made him sick,
and he had thrown it all up after she left.
He could remember as a child pressing the palm of his tiny hand against
the massiveness of his grandfather’s. It was a strong hand, lean and leathery.
His grandfather had been a proud man, tall and powerful and wise, a leader in
their village, a man his people respected. When he was very young, the old man
had lifted him onto his shoulders and carried him with that long, swinging
stride into the village or to the fields or up into the hills to hunt for
herbs. To him, the man had been a giant, taller than his father and
undefeatable, and with the old man’s help, he had been a giant himself,
who could see every cloud, every tree, everything in all four directions.
Then, the disease had come, and all the sandpaintings, chants, and
medicine wheels couldn’t stop it from ravaging the old man’s body. His father
had said modern medicine could help slow the progression of symptoms, but his
grandfather had stubbornly refused to be treated by modern medicine. There was
no cure. Death came no matter what. What was the point?
So day by day, hour by hour, he had watched the giant shrink until it
became a shriveled, helpless old man, who could no longer tell stories or pick
up his grandsons or feed himself. And day by day, he had become ashamed of
this false giant, ashamed of the one who could not wipe his own chin when food
spilled out of his sagging mouth. Death had seemed to deliberately drag its
feet, taking its time as if it knew there was no threat that the feeble old man
might get well.
The wrinkled hands had become cold and grey, burning his young
flesh like dry ice, and the elder’s breath had rattled so loudly in the thin
chest that it filtered through the mud wall and entered into his dreams at
night, filling them with snakes and witches and bears. Toward the end, he had
refused to go into his grandfather’s room, even though Kolopak said the dying
man was asking for his “little warrior”. He had been five years old at the
time, but it had frightened him so much that he had made a silly, childish vow
to never become so ill and helpless.
He stared down at the metal bracelets connected by wires to the rings
around his pink fingers. A slow smile twisted his mouth; then, realizing no
one else could see the humor, he turned on his side and curled up beneath
the blanket.

His boots kicked up the dust as he walked. The coarse red powder
swirled intimately with the remaining puffs of grey smoke, and he drew the
bandana across his nose until the wind subsided. Swarms of flies, their hairy
bellies swollen with food, hummed in his ear causing him to swat at them
continuously. On either side of the road, stores and homes still smoldered,
their once gleaming adobe walls, greyed and crumbling. His boot kicked a shard
of pottery, and he crouched down to pick it up. It retained the design of corn
husks, squash vines, and a portion of a black figure containing a star field.
Resting his arms on his knees, his eyes scanned the soil. Another piece lay
nearby, one that fitted perfectly to the one in his hand. A ceremonial dish.
He shook his head and stood up, dropping the two pieces in his pocket.
This was not his village; it was Naho, but he knew it well enough.
Although, now, it was empty; the survivors had fled into the hills, leaving the
dead behind, unburied, unprepared for their journey. His own village he knew
to be in much the same condition.
He had spent many hours here, talking with the Star Fleet officers.
It was here that Captain Sulu had agreed to sponsor his application to the
Academy. But Star Fleet had not been here three days ago. *He* had not been
here. And the Cardassians like so many others had ignored the treaties and the
words they had spoken. Angry tears stung his eyes. He wiped them away and
continued down the street. He had almost reached the center of town.
The worst fighting had occurred there, bloody hand-to-hand combat,
leaving both Natives and Cardassians dead. The stench was overpowering,
seeping through his skin until he could taste the rotting flesh in his mouth.
He gagged and quickly tied the bandana over his face, leaving only his eyes
exposed. So many bodies. He didn’t want to count how many; he didn’t want
to know. Most were Natives, but there were quite a few Cardassians, too.
One of the Native bodies lay on its stomach with its arm outstretched,
a red bandana and a silver bracelet on its wrist. The bracelet had the
familiar pattern of tobacco leaves etched into the metal. “Hoa?” He turned
the body over. Grubs were hard at work on the part of the face which had been
buried in the dirt, their fat, white bodies wiggling in the hollow of the
right eye. His best friend and his sister’s husband. He shivered violently,
choking on the warm liquid surging into his throat. The body dropped from his
grasp, and he stumbled away. Somewhere behind him, he heard the rattle of
a gourd.
He sat up gasping, tiny rivlets of sweat running down his face and
chest. Sickbay, he told his thundering pulse. Sickbay. Breathe. His eye
swept the darkened room. It had been a long time since he had that dream.
Slowly, he lay back down. Sleep remained a long way off. Maybe the Doctor
could- No. No drugs. It was only a nightmare. A very old, very tired
nightmare. He was simply out-of-practice in dealing with it.

“Dammit!” Chakotay growled as the metal rod slipped from his
tenous grasp. It bounced off the bio-bed mattress, hit his open palm, and
hopscotched its way across the Sickbay floor, where Kes retrieved it from
under a cart. No matter how loud his brain shouted his hands pretended not
to hear.
“Perhaps we should return to using the smaller bar for the present.”
The Doctor said.
“No!” Chagrined by his outburst, he lowered his voice. “I can do
this. Let me try again.”
The Doctor shrugged and Kes handed the rod to the hologram.
“Perhaps a break is in order, Doctor.” The Ocampan suggested.
“Good idea.”
“No. I want to do this.”
They both stared at him. They didn’t understand.
“Commander,” Kes addressed him in her soft voice, so much like the
patient tone his mother used. “You’ve made a great deal of progress over the
past two days. You have to give your muscles and nerves time to reacquaint
themselves. There is no need to push yourself so hard. The progress you have
made so far is very encouraging. Why not take a break? You can try again
after lunch.”
She was right. He knew it. He expected too much. The fact that he
could grasp the rods at all testified to his determination. He should be
pleased.
“One more time, then I’ll stop.”
“Very well.” The hologram extended his hands palms up, holding the
bar by the ends.
Chakotay stared at the bar, his brow knitting in concentration. In his
mind, he could feel its smooth rounded shape, how heavy it was, how cool to the
touch. His hand reached out and slowly closed about it. It shook as he lifted
it out of the Doctor’s hands. The muscles were tired, aching from fatigue and
unwilling to listen to anything his mind had to say. They rippled and twitched
and finally contracted, opening his hand and releasing the rod.
It bounced off the bed again and rolled across the floor, stopping at
Kathryn’s feet. She bent down and easily picked it up. “How is the therapy
coming, Doctor?”
“Quite well. I have been pleased with the Commander’s progress. He,
however, has not been.”
“Oh?” The Captain raised an eyebrow. “And why is that, Commander?”
His jaw tightened. “Pride, I suppose, Captain. I don’t like being
spoon-fed.”
“Have you ever heard the expression `pride cometh before a fall’?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
“It’s an old quote, European in origin, I believe. My mother often
repeated it to me.” She smiled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Chakotay. I
need you back in the chair, but not until you’re ready. Understand?”
“Yes, Captain.” He replied between clenched teeth. Platitudes. He
wouldn’t be stopped that easily.
“Good. I stopped by to see if you would join me for lunch.”
“Lunch? In the mess?” His eye darted about the room wildly as he
searched for any excuse other than the truth. “To be honest, Captain, I’d
rather not.”
“May I inquire why?”
“Uh, because-”
“Commander, what did I just tell you about pride?” Her tone was stern,
making him feel like a child.
He swallowed hard. “You realize I can’t feed myself.”
“I know that. I’ll help you. Chakotay, there is no reason to be
embarrassed. The entire crew understands, probably better than you think they
do.”
“I’ll bet.” He growled under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, Captain. I apologize.” He slid off the bed. “Do you mind
if we stop by my quarters? I’d rather not go to the mess in pajamas.”
“Of course. I’ll return him to your care in one hour, Doctor.”

He tried to ignore the sudden silence which seized the mess when they
walked in. Kathryn continued the lopsided conversation admirably, chatting
about the bridge, the engines, and anything else that came to mind. He was
also fairly certain she thought he was unaware of the quick motion she made
behind her back for the crew to resume talking.
He wore his olive workout clothes. The shirt and the pants were both
pull-on. He was embarrassed enough by the thought of Kathryn feeding him;
asking her to help him dress was out of the question.
“Commander, it’s so good to see you up and about.” Neelix beamed over
the counter. “By coincidence, I happened to prepare corn salad today. I was
going to bring some by Sickbay later, but since you’re here, I guess I don’t
have to. I’ve also prepared some orei fungus; some marinated Ventorian
peppers; and roasted hearts of the Falagonian palm. All vegetarian and all
quite delicious, if I do say so myself.”
“Mmm. It does look good, Neelix. Could you fill two trays and bring
them over to our table?” She nodded toward the only vacant table for two.
“Of course, Captain. I’ll be delighted.”
“Shall we, Commander?”
He followed her over. “Don’t you think you carried it a bit too far?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I could buy the stopping by to ask me for lunch, but don’t you think
the corn salad and all-vegetarian menu is a little much? What exactly did the
Doctor tell you?”
“Commander, I assure you I knew nothing about the menu. However, since
you brought the matter up, yes, the Doctor has spoken to me. He tells me you
aren’t sleeping well and remain distant to anyone who visits, including
B’Elanna, almost as if you didn’t want any visitors.”
“I don’t.”
“May I ask why?”
He held up his hands. “Don’t you think it’s obvious? Metal and wire
make them work, not me. I don’t like being pitied, Captain. I never have.
As a child, I would almost have to collapse before I would admit I was ill.”
She shook her head. “That’s not a healthy attitude, Chakotay. Oh,
thank you, Neelix,” she said as the Talaxian placed two heaping trays
before them.
“Maybe not, but you didn’t grow up watching your grandfather die,
becoming more and more helpless each day. If you had, you might view things
differently.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Open.” She shoved a forkful of corn salad into
his mouth.
He chewed the food slowly, wondering if he could pulverized it enough
to swallow it past the lump in his throat.
“What did your grandfather die of?”
“Sand’s disease, a neuro-muscular disorder. It’s comparatively rare
and incurable. In the end, he could only lie in bed. He couldn’t sit up or
feed himself. My mother used to have to change the bed two to three times a
day.” Tears stung his eyes. She had been so tired by the end of the day.
“On top of that, she was pregnant with my sister and had to watch out for my
little brother. I was five years old, but Kelo was only two and less
independent than I was.”
“That must have been a difficult time for all of you.” Kathryn held
up another bite of food which he reluctantly accepted. “I know when my
grandmother became ill, the burden fell heaviest on my father because he was
the oldest of her four children. I was in the Academy by then, protected
to some degree from the situation, but my sister was not so fortunate,
and she wrote to me every week complaining. I told her she was being selfish,
but looking back, I’m not sure I would have felt differently if I had been in
her shoes. I suppose for you, being a young child, it must have been worse,
maybe even frightening.”
He carefully avoided her sympathetic gaze. “Yes, it was.”
He whispered. “But that was no excuse.”
“Excuse for what?”
“Nothing. Twenty-twenty hindsight. Nothing I can change. Let’s talk
about something else.”
“Very well. Crewman Hogan has shown a great deal of competence in his
job performance. I thought. . .”
He let her talk, barely maintaining a grip on the slender thread which
strung the words together. He chewed, nodded, and agreed when pauses dictated.
Paris, Jemison, and Kim sat nearby. By Kim’s expression, he could tell the
ensign was suffering through another bout of homesickness or some crisis of
equal magnitude, and snippets of their conversation interwove with her words.
“But I want to be faithful-”
“I think Hogan would make a good transporter-”
“C’mon Harry, what happens if we never make it back?”
“Sobroul’s work has also shown improvement.”
“Like my brother used to say, there’s plenty of fish in the sea; it’s
just a matter of knowing where to drop your line.”
Too late. He dropped the thread. Their words had no meaning now.
His mind wandered freely, drifting into the past, finding its way back to Naho,
back to his grandfather, back to the cell on the planet. “I want to see my
little warrior.” Sanchez writhed on the floor before him, his body rattling
and hissing as he drew his last breaths. “Com…man…der.”
“Commander.” Kathryn’s hand shook his arm. “Chakotay, are you all
right?”
The room was silent. He stared at her, blinking rapidly, caught
between the reality of his memories and reality itself. Something grazed his
left cheek. It was her napkin. He raised a hand to his face. The left side
was damp.
She grasped his right hand. “Do you want to finish lunch or would
you prefer to return to Sickbay?”
A bitter swelling pressed against the back of his throat. “My room.”
He clenched his teeth. “I won’t make it to Sickbay.”

WARNING: Some people may find scenes in this story disturbing.

The Tie That Binds

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1996

The Hilltop, cont.

A damp cloth bathed his face. Chakotay sat on the floor of his
bathroom leaning against the cool tiles. He had thrown up until his stomach
muscles quivered with exhaustion, leaving him too feeble to move. Kes crouched
down and ran a med scanner over him. Kathryn stood behind her.
“Will he be all right?” Janeway asked.
“Yes. I’ll get him into bed and give him a sedative. Commander, I
want you to stay right here. I’ll be back in a minute. Captain, may I speak
to you a moment?”
He almost laughed as they stepped out of the bathroom. He couldn’t
have followed them even if he wanted to; sitting up seemed to be the only
activity he was capable of at this particular moment. He strained his ears,
but heard only the faint outlines of words. Then, Kathryn reappeared at
the door.
“Chakotay, I have to get back to the bridge. Pritchett is on his way
to help Kes move you to your bed. I’ll come by later at the end of my shift.
All right?”
He nodded. His throat burned, and the weakness of his limbs spread to
his mouth. Kes brushed past the Captain and applied a fresh cloth to
his forehead.
“Everything will be just fine, Commander. We’ll get you into bed, and
then, you can take a nice, long nap.”

His eye opened. It was dark, but he knew he wasn’t in Sickbay. The
bed was too wide. His eye darted around. His room. He clutched the blanket
to his chest. So many memories. So many times he had let others down, those
who had depended on him. His father, his grandfather, Sanchez. Tears formed
a lump in his throat.
A black figure rose out of a chair and walked toward him, perching on
the edge of the bed. “How do you feel, Commander?” The soft blue light behind
the headboard lit Hannah’s face.
“Where. . .where’s Kes?” He asked hoarsely.
“I relieved her so she could go have dinner.”
He ran his tongue along his upper lip. The sour taste of vomit
lingered in his mouth.
“Can you sit up?” Hannah placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled,
shoving two pillows behind his back. “That’s better. Now, rinse your mouth
out. I though you might want to.”
She handed him a glass of green liquid. Without questioning, he
drained the contents, swishing the cool, refreshing mint over his teeth. He
spit into the glass and handed it back.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Can I get you something else?”
“No.”
“Neelix should be coming by with some vegetable broth. I made him
promise no leola root.” She smiled, placing the glass on the nightstand.
He flexed his hands. The stiff fingers groaned in protest. They would
never hold a spoon.
“Do your hands hurt?”
“No.”
His hand cramped across the palm, causing him to grimace.
“Unh-hunh. I thought so. Turn your head.” A hypospray hissed in his
ear. “Kes left this behind. It’s a muscle relaxant. The Doctor thought you
might have overdone it a little this morning.”
“And do you plan on feeding me?” His jaw tightened as he tried to
control the contempt in his voice.
“Since I’m here, yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No.”
A heavy silence descended, and he watched her pale hands twist in her
lap. She was nervous. Good. He wanted her that way. If she was on edge, she
couldn’t pity him. No understanding smiles, no soft eyes. He intensified his
gaze and watched as she withered before him.
The door chimed. Hannah jumped to her feet. “That must be Neelix.”
She came back with a tray of yellowish broth. Removing the napkin, she tucked
it inside the neck of his shirt. The advantage was lost. The sympathetic
smile returned, and he hated her for it.
“Now how do you want to do this? Do you just want me to feed you, or
do you want to try feeding yourself with me helping when necessary?”
“I don’t care.”
“Look, Chakotay, I’m trying to help you. I know this isn’t easy for
you, and I-”
“You want to help? You want to help? Then, get the hell out of
my room! And take your goddamn mercy meal with you!” With a quick jerk, he
knocked the tray across her lap.
Hannah screamed as the burning liquid soaked through her uniform.
Leaping to her feet, she scrambled out of the jumpsuit. He stared at the
growing red splotches on her thighs. “There’s a dermal regenerator in
the bathroom. You might want to use it.”
Her mouth fell open. “That’s it? No `I’m sorry’?”
“No.”
Jemison snatched up her uniform and disappeared into the bathroom. He
stared at the mess on the floor, the tray, the silverware, the upside-down
bowl. Had he really? Of course, he had, in one swift, clean, efficient move.
She had not even had time to react until the liquid seeped in, burning her fair
skin. He kicked off the covers and stumbled to the bathroom.
“Hannah, open the door. Please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”
The door slid open. She was back in uniform, her eyes flashing with
anger. “You’re damned right you shouldn’t have. I came here to help not to
be abused.”
“I know. It’s just that-” He hung his head. Dear god, why had he-?
Of all the crew, how could he have done this to her? Her image swayed before
him, and the floor shifted beneath his feet. He leaned against the doorjamb
and slid swiftly to the floor. Dense air pressed in about him. The dust,
the smoke, the smell of rotting flesh, they all hovered around him in thick
clouds that fresh air couldn’t penetrate. He choked on the foul atmosphere.
Voices mumbled nearby. He reached out and grabbed someone’s arm. He couldn’t
breathe. Didn’t they understand? He couldn’t breathe! Then, a breeze hissed
in his ear, stirring the clouds and bringing in clean air.

Naho again. As he walked down the street a stream of pebbles
showered down a broken wall behind him. “Hello? Anybody there?” A piece of
wood clattered to the ground. He whipped around. “Hello? Come on out. I
won’t hurt you.” No reply. “Maybe it was the wind.” The town was deserted.
“A ghost town,” he declared for all to hear.
He continued toward the center of town, as he always did, even though
he knew what he would find there, but a movement out of the corner of his eye
made him stop short of his destination. The alleyway was empty, except for the
smoldering debris of wood and clay. The hair rose on the back of his neck.
A chill wind blew down from the mountains, driving black smoke into his eyes.
He shook his head. Maybe he had been wrong. It had been only an impression,
like a shadow. He turned away, back toward his original destination.
Chakotay. The voice was small and frail. He wasn’t sure if he had
even heard it. He shook his head. He was too old to let his imagination run
so wild. Keep going. He drew the bandana across his face. The stench would
hit him at any minute. Somewhere ahead he heard a faint rattle, like that of a
baby’s toy. The closer he drew to the center of town the louder the rattle
got. He covered his ears, but the noise thundered on, hundreds of seed-filled
gourds thrashing around him until he could no longer stagger forward. He
swayed unevenly before crumpling to his knees. “Stop! Stop it!” His voice
vanished into the heavy rumbling which pummeled him from all directions.
“Stop! Please Stop! Please!”
“Commander! Commander!” Firm hands shook his shoulders. “Commander
Chakotay, wake up!”
Chakotay swallowed his breath and opening his eye, gazed around the
room. Tuvok sat beside him. It was silent. Everything. Dead silent.
“Tuvok?”
“I believe you were having a nightmare, Commander. You kept asking for
something to stop. May I inquire as to what you were referring?”
“A rattle. It was deafening. I couldn’t even hear myself think.” He
smirked and released the blanket he hugged to his chest. “I’m all right now.”
“Indeed?” An eyebrow shot up in disbelief. “Then I will return to
my seat.”
“A watch? They’ve got me on a watch?”
“It was either that or carry you back to Sickbay. Both the Captain
and Kes were of the opinion you would feel more comfortable in your quarters.
However, the Doctor recommended that you not be left alone, and given your
nightmare, I find his suggestion to bear merit.”
“I suppose Vulcans don’t have nightmares.”
Tuvok cocked his head to one side. “That would be an incorrect
assumption on your part. However, we are taught as children to deal with
them in a considerably more logical manner than human children are, but I would
be remiss if I said that my dreams following my mindmeld with Mr. Suder were
anything less than unsettling.”
Chakotay smirked. “My apologies, then. Personally, I find all this
fuss over a few nightmares unsettling.”
“The concern also stems from the two panic attacks, Commander.”
“Panic attacks? I don’t have panic attacks. I got a little dizzy
earlier, and lunch disagreed with me, but *I* do not have panic attacks.”
“That is your opinion. According to the Doctor, the two times you
collapsed you exhibited symptoms common to stress-related panic disorders.”
The Vulcan sat back in the chair and stared at him over steepled fingers.
“Perhaps if you were to talk about your nightmares.”
“They are nothing new. They relate to my first visit home after the
Cardassian attack on our colony. I’ve had them off and on for years.”
“I see. And the rattling?”
“That is new, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with. Now, let me go
back to sleep.” He hunkered down under the covers and turned away from the
irritatingly placid face. The ship’s first officer, and everyone thought he
was loco. He closed his eye, too exhausted to quarrel with popular opinion.
Only sleep mattered to him now.

Hannah looked lovely, possibly more beautiful than he had ever seen
her. Her dark brown hair, shining in the bright sunlight, hung freely
catching the occasional wind. She wore an ankle-length dress the colour of
summer corn and sprinkled liberally with tiny blue flowers. In her hand, she
carried a large wooden basket. Her lips parted in a wide smile.
“Chakotay, you were right. This is a perfect spot for a picnic.”
She squinted up at him, the sun hitting her full in the face.
They stood on the northern-most hill above his village, the old
roundnut tree offering them dappled shade beneath its sprawling branches.
Down below, people moved about the homes, drawing water from the well and
heading out into the fields.
She spread the blanket on the ground and began to unpack the basket.
As she took the contents out, a fly crawled across one of the plates.
Laughing, she shooed it gently away. “What’s a picnic without insects?
I expect the fly’s gone to tell the ants about it now.” Humming, she continued
to set out the food.
He knelt down, but didn’t respond. His gaze wandered down her dress
following the curve of her hips and legs until it reached her exposed ankle,
which led his imagination beneath the cotton fabric and up the length of her
body, revealing every centimeter of concealed flesh.
She settled next to him, lifting a spoonful of food toward his mouth.
He shook his head and turned his face away, angered that she thought
he was still so helpless.
Hannah sighed and lowered the utensil. “Chakotay, please. I’m only
trying to help. What is it you want from me?”
Slowly, his gaze swung back to her. Her head hung down, the mahogany
hair shielding her face. Brushing aside the dark strands, he seized them by
the roots and yanked her head back, filling her open mouth with his tongue.
The spoon fell from her hand, its contents spilling onto the dress. Her hands
pressed against his chest, but he grabbed her shoulders, preventing her
escape. His fingers bit deeply into the pale skin as he forced her onto
her back, his heavier body securing hers against the ground. She squirmed
beneath him while he kissed her, small cries choking in the back of her throat.
His right hand closed about the slim neck. “Don’t scream.”
Her grey eyes opened wide. “Don’t. Please don’t. Please.”
“Shhh.”
As his left hand slid the dress up her leg, a shriek filled the
quiet air.
Chakotay sat up shaking. Sweat poured from every pore, and his fingers
were thick with blood and pain. Her scream still echoed in his head. Why?
He would never hurt her like that. Oh god, his hands ached, the metal rings
biting savagely into the swollen flesh. Moaning, he folded his arms against
his chest and bent over his lap.
“Chakotay?” A voice called to him from the darkness. A figure
approached and sat down on the bed. “My god, you’re shaking.” Arms wrapped
around him, pulling him close.
It felt safe in her warm embrace, filled with the odors of sage and
thyme. She knew him. She would understand. She always had. “Mama, teciltik.
Nimopoloh. Tatetesowalis. Mama, it hurts.”

He sat on the sofa underneath the windows. The dream continued to
haunt him, with Hannah’s beauty and his savagery. Her actions had been kind,
her clothing modest, her words affectionate and caring, and he had turned on
her with a violence that shook him to his brittle roots. Why? Why her?
He cared for her, but–oh god!–he had wanted to hurt her. Was it just that he
wanted someone, anyone, to feel as helpless as he did? If that was the case,
he had succeeded. She had screamed; she had begged; and he had felt powerful
until he halfway woke up, his hands cramped and throbbing. The weakness which
had invaded his mind and body had truly revealed itself then, and he had fallen
into B’Elanna’s arms, calling her mother and crying that everything was
twisted, that he was lost.
He looked out the window at the streaks of light. To think about it
made him sick. Everything made him sick now: food, sleep, words. He inhaled
deeply several times to counteract the nauseating heat spreading under
his skin. He could throw up later, but not now. For the present, he had to
remain outwardly calm and collected, even if on the inside his mind splintered
like dried wood.
The door chimed. He took another deep breath and drug his gaze away
from the stars. “Come in.”
“B’Elanna said you needed to see me.”
“Yes, Captain. I do. Please sit down.” His hand swept over the
vacant portion of the couch in one cool, carefully controlled motion.
“She also tells me you do not wish anyone to visit and that you wish to
discontinue your physical therapy.” Kathryn perched on the edge of the sofa.
“That is in part correct. I have asked Kes to supply me with the
necessary equipment and exercises. I will be continuing the therapy on my
own.”
“I could order you back to Sickbay.”
He nodded. “You could, but I believe you know that would not be in
my best interest.”
“And just what would be in your best interest, Chakotay? To allow you
to wall yourself up in these quarters?”
“Yes, Captain. If you do not honor my request, I will be of no use to
you as a first officer.” He glanced briefly out the window before continuing.
“To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I will be afterwards, either, but I have
to try. You see, my people believe that a balance exists everywhere in nature.
To be well, a man must maintain a degree of harmony between his physical,
mental, and spiritual states; however, as you have seen, this is currently not
the case with me. Back home it would only be a matter of finding a chanter or
medicine man, as you might call him, to help me re-establish this balance, but
out here, well, let’s just say there aren’t too many Native chanters available.
“I suppose the Doctor would label my condition post-traumatic stress
syndrome, and to a certain degree, he would be correct both in his diagnosis
and treatment, but it goes much deeper than that, to causes he does not
know and cannot treat.” A sad smirk wrinkled his mouth. “We all have our
inner demons, Captain. Mine have chosen to surface at this time, and I must
find a way to manage them. It is something I have to do. Alone.”
She studied him long and hard, as if doing so would pry the lid off his
carefully sealed jar and reveal to her the inflamed contents of his soul.
Purposefully, he retained a detatched expression, in time she might find out,
but not now. He had to view the contents himself first.
“Oh, Chakotay. What am I going to do with you? My training as a
commanding officer says I should order you back to Sickbay, but I can’t bring
myself to do that. To judge the best course of treatment without regard for a
person’s belief structure has long been proven ineffective, even harmful to the
patient. Let me speak with the Doctor. I will inform you later of my
decision; until then, you may remain here on your own.” She moved closer
to him. “Perhaps you and the Doctor could find a middle ground between the
two treatments?”
“Perhaps, but I doubt it. I don’t relish the idea of being sung-over
by a hologram, even a Native one. It would be like being christened or married
by a holographic priest.”
“Point taken.” Her hand reached over and covered his, squeezing it
briefly. “Don’t worry, Chakotay. We will get you through this. You will
get better.”
He tried to smile, but it felt horribly false. “I hope so, Captain.
I don’t much like the person I am now.”

DISCLAIMERS: See part 1.

The Tie That Binds

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1996

The Hilltop, cont.

With their help
In beauty I shall walk
With their help
In beauty I shall think
With their help
In beauty I shall speak
With their help
In beauty I shall live

Chakotay chanted the words softly as he placed the last stone into
position on the medicine wheel. In silence, he reviewed the preparations he
had made over the past two days. He had sweated; he had bathed; he had taken
no food; and he had expelled all that lingered in his belly. Now, he stood in
the middle of the room stripped of everything except a pair of shorts and the
enhancers, which he kept on because without them he could not complete the
necessary tasks.
He lowered himself to the floor and unwrapped the soft skin of his
medicine bundle, spreading the items out with a deliberate slowness to convey
tranquility and respect. As he grasped the river stone, his hand spasmed and
it fell to the floor with a loud thud. He cursed and immediately regretted
his words of anger. Such feelings might invalidate any compassion his prayers
elicited. He had to stay loose. Carefully, he gripped the stone again.
This time it did not slip. He clutched it to his heart and placed his right
hand on the akoonah.
A tingling began in his fingers and spread through his hand and up his
arm until his whole body vibrated to the mild current. His skin grew warm, a
surge of blood flushing his cheeks. He closed his eye and removed his hand
from the akoonah. With the river stone clasped securely to his chest, he
tilted his head upward toward the ceiling.
“Akoo-cheemoya, let the Old Ones hear my cry. I am alone. My body
is broken and ugliness afflicts my mind and spirit. I need their help. With
them, my body will mend. With them, my spirit can find peace. With them, my
mind will know only beautiful thoughts. I am alone. I am a poor one. I have
no tobacco to offer. I have no one to sing over me. I have run when I should
have walked. I have walked when I should have stood still. I have trembled in
fear when I should have shown courage. I am lost. I am alone.”
Darkness swept in, swirling around him. At first, he thought he had
returned to the cell, but a damp chill told him otherwise. Water dripped, drop
by hesitant drop, into an invisible pool. The cave.
He stretched out his hands and felt his way down to the floor. He sat
in silence listening to the water. The droplets had fallen ever since his
grandfather found the cave, and he suspected they had trickled down for
hundreds, perhaps thousands of years before that.
He shivered in the cold, hugging his knees to his chest. He understood
why this place had frightened him so as a child. It was a sacred place, filled
with the force of life and death. Fear of such a place engendered a respect of
its power, but his blind terror had been destructive, not respectful. He knew
better now. He had learned.
*Ancestors. Hear me. As a child, I ran from you. I ran from my
grandfather, from my father, from myself. I am older now. I have learned.
I ask for your forgiveness. I ask for your help. Let your son become well so
that he can honour you properly in the years to come.*

Hours later, he woke up shivering on the floor of his quarters.
They had not come, none of them, not even his father. Sighing, he drew a
blanket around his shoulders, then returned the sacred objects to their
protective pouch. Tired, but not discouraged, he moved to his bed. He would
sleep a little now. Later, he would exercise his hands, prudently though;
he didn’t want any repeats of the pain and stiffness from three days ago.

Chakotay hugged the stone to his chest and waited. A small puff of
smoke floated before his eyes, followed by a larger one, until a thick cloud,
pure as snow, surrounded him. Then, it vanished, leaving him in a darkened
doorway. Light flickered in the room beyond. Kolopak sat on the floor before
the altar fire. His grey hair was pulled back into a small ponytail, and his
eyes were closed in meditation. The fire in front of him crackled, the flames
leaping and prancing like corn dancers at the spring festival.
“Father?” He whispered, reluctant to disturb the older man’s
concentration.
“Shhh, Chakotay. Join me.”
He stepped into the circle, outlined by yellow corn pollen, and
sat down. The heat from the fire stung his bare skin, wringing the moisture
from his pores. He watched his father’s lips move, a low, unintelligible
murmur reaching his ears. Without opening his eyes, Kolopak rose and drew
breath from the four directions. As he faced the fire again, he finally opened
his eyes.
“Now, Chakotay, what was it you wanted?” His father stared at him
before quickly stepping around the altar. He crouched beside him, touching the
sealed eyelid and turning the flesh and metal hands gently between his own.
“My son, what has happened to you?”
“I was captured and tortured, Father.” He whispered, unable to look
into his father’s worried eyes.
“By the Cardassians?”
“No, by the Kazon, the same people who took my son from me. They
captured three of us. I survived; the others didn’t. They died in front of
me. There was nothing I could do.” His head drooped lower. “I was their
commanding officer, and I could not save them.” A warm tear splashed onto his
thigh.
“Your Star Fleet learning does not help you cope better with loss and
guilt, does it?” His father asked softly. “It is made of wire and metal, not
earth and water. It can feed your mind; it can strenghten your body; but it
cannot comfort your spirit, can it?”
“No, Father.”
“Which is why you have come here, why you have come home, to nourish
yourself back to health, to remember your actions and make peace with them.”
He nodded. “Yes, Father. I regret many things I have done.”
“Regret? Regret is a Star Fleet term. Regret is lodged in the mind.
If you only regret your actions, you will never get better. Only remorse is
lodged in the heart. If you feel remorse, you can understand the consequences
of your actions and learn from the experience. Remorse will allow you to
continue on your journey wiser for what happened. Regret will not let you
do this. You may journey on, but you will repeat your mistakes because you
do not feel them.”
“How do I know the difference?”
“You will know. You will feel it in here.” Kolopak thumped his chest.
“And it will bring tears to your eyes, which you cannot ignore.”
Chakotay sniffed and raised his head. “Well, to one eye, at least.”
A tight smile stretched across the older man’s face. “Very well, one
eye, then. The question is, Chakotay, do you feel remorse or only regret?”
“I don’t know. I do know that I want to apologize to you, to
grandfather, and to our ancestors. I ran away from each of you, and in doing
so, I ran from myself. You were right when you said I would never belong
wholely to Star Fleet, that I would be forever split between our world and
theirs, but I find merit in both. To tear myself from their world would be
equally wrong because it is a part of me, too.”
Kolopak nodded, patting his shoulder as he got to his feet. He walked
carefully around the edge of the circle. “So, now you must become a bridge
between the two.” He stopped and smiled. “I should tell you, no one was more
proud of you than your mother and I were when you graduated from the
Academy and received your first assignment, although at the time I could not
bring myself to admit it. I was worried about you. I thought success would
allow you to truly turn your back on your people. So I criticized and argued
with you the few times we did talk, pushing you further away, instead of
welcoming you back home. I should have had more faith in you.”
His father paused. “You see, I have felt my share of remorse, too.
You are my son, and I am proud of you. What you have done in the past cannot
be changed. The important thing is to apply the lessons from those mistakes
to your future.” Kolopak crouched beside him and ruffled his hair. “Do not
worry so, Chakotay. Enjoy your life. Grow old with happy memories, and leave
regrets to Star Fleet. Forgive yourself. We have.”

“Commander, I am relieved to see you looking so well.” The hologram
walked out of the office as Chakotay entered Sickbay.
He raised an amused eyebrow. “What did you expect, Doctor? I’ve only
been a hermit for six days. All I have to show for it is slightly looser
clothing. Kes left a message that my eye was ready.”
“Yes, I have it in stasis. The vision may not be as accurate as you’re
used to, but we should be able to correct it to a close approximation.”
“Then let’s get to it.” He hopped up on a biobed and grinned. “I’ve
been a one-eyed jack long enough.”
The hologram nodded. “Very well. Before we begin, how are
your hands?”
Chakotay extended them, curling and flexing the fingers. “Their
strength and accuracy are improving. I’ve begun using the no. 10 rod,
alternating it with the dexterity tests.”
“Fine, fine.” The Doctor ran the scanner across the palm and fingers.
“According to these results, you may begin removing the enhancers for short
periods of the day. I advise you start out with only ten to fifteen minute
intervals three times a day. If they become tired or painful, replace the
enhancers and notify me. After three days, I want to see you again and if all
is well, we will increase the time. However, I should warn you that when you
remove them, you will experience a decrease in performance until your hands
become used to doing things on their own.”
“I expected as much, but I still won’t be sorry to take them off.”
“So I gathered.” The hologram walked into the laboratory, returning
almost immediately with a tray. On it, surrounded by a clear fluid, lay his
eye.
Chakotay frowned, his mouth twitching in apprehension. He tried not to
look too closely at it, but it kept drawing his gaze back. In a few hours, it
would be a part of him, working in concert with his other eye. He didn’t know
whether to be amazed or revolted. It seemed so lifeless and sterile sitting
there, and he wondered for a moment if he should allow it to be implanted, but
it was a part of him. His DNA had suffused it with the potential for life; it
was up to him to carry it the rest of the way.
“Now, remember, ” The Doctor was saying. “You will not have perfect
vision immediately. It may take a few more operations to adjust-”
“I understand, Doctor. Let’s begin.”
The hologram stared at him for a moment, perhaps not fully
understanding his desire to be whole again. “Very well. If you will go change
and then lie down on the surgical biobed, I’ll summon Kes. The whole procedure
should take about five hours.”

Chakotay leapt into the air and checked the ball’s momentum with his
chest. The orb bounced off, hovering about two meters over the hardwood floor.
With a high kick, he sent it spinning to Mancuso, who bumped it toward the
metal goal ring.
He liked team hoverball. It seemed at once to be a combination of
soccer and the ancient Meso-American game of ringball played by his ancestors,
even though the game had not originated on Earth. Its roots actually went back
to the planet Keltris. Some Keltrans still played the game in its earlier
form, using long, flat wooden bats strapped to each arm and making them look
like ungainly birds. When played that way, jumping was not allowed, and the
ball was smaller and harder, reaching speeds up to 75kph. You didn’t want to
get hit by a grand slam, but it was inevitable you did, and he had seen some
of the younger veterans of the game, who came to the Academy. They bore their
scars proudly, like warriors, and they scorned the soft version of the game
he played. Although, the truth was that they couldn’t play the Earth version
worth beans. They didn’t know how to leap or to block or to score. So to
cover their failure, they stuck their short, pug noses in the air and gazed
down at the other players from the highest seats in the gym.
“Over here, Mick. I’m wide open.” Wallace bellowed.
Mancuso looked around desperate to find a yellow jersey in the wave of
red speeding toward him. Chakotay leapt to his feet. Mick always panicked in
the crunch, but if he could reach him before the others, and if he could butt
the ball just right…BAM! The ball ricocheted off the wall exactly where he
aimed. It flew over the approaching players heading straight for Wallace.
His roommate backed up slightly allowing the ball to slow its momentum, then
jumped up bouncing the ball off his head and through the goal in one glorious
motion.
The small crowd was on its feet, stomping and hollering. They won!
His team of seniors had beaten the undefeated young upstarts from the sophomore
dorm. The team surged around Wallace, lifting him onto their shoulders,
the hero’s ruddy face shining under the gymnasium’s bright lights.
Chakotay swung his arm around Mancuso. Mick was a good player, but he
worried too much, kicking himself for weeks for mistakes he had made.
“C’mon, Mick. Let’s go join the celebration. We deserve it.”
His teammate shook his head. “You go on. I’ve got something else
to do.”
“Like what? Blaming yourself for what could have happened? Mick,
what’s done is done, and we’ve won. That’s what matters.”
“But we could’ve lost, if you hadn’t acted, and it would have been
my fault.”
“But we didn’t lose. We won. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Relax.
Hell, you don’t freeze up nearly as much as you used to, and you’re the best
leaper on the team.” He grinned. “C’mon, Mick. We all deserve this.”
Mancuso nodded and together they followed the crowd toward the locker
room. As they neared the door, Chakotay cast one last glance over his shoulder
at the defeated team. Most hung their heads, but one kid with dark brown hair
didn’t. He stared at Chakotay, a smile slowly spreading across the fair face.
“Good game, Chief.”
Mick snickered. “Guess he doesn’t know how much you hate that name.”
Chakotay smirked. “The name is Chakotay, paleface, and same to you.”
“Commander, can you hear me? The operation was a complete success.”
Kes’s soft voice rose over the approaching roar of the locker room.
Gradually the lights faded, replaced by a darkness, so peaceful and quiet he
was reluctant to leave it behind.
“Commander?” Kes called to him again.
A tiny grin crinkled the side of his mouth. “Be right there.”

Chakotay pushed the chime to Hannah’s quarters and waited, nervously
reviewing the carefully-worded apology he had composed over dinner. A few
seconds passed, and he pressed the chime again. He knew she was in there.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” The doors slid apart. Hannah wore a navy
satin robe over pajamas of the same colour. They stared at each other, his
eyes roaming over her in thinly disguised appreciation until she found her
voice. “Commander? What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes, that is, if I
promised not to throw any soup.”
A tiny smile appeared on her face as she stepped aside. “Of course.
Come in. How is your eye doing?”
“Good. The Doctor plans to make the final adjustment tomorrow morning,
and I hope to resume duty the following day. May I?” He gestured toward
the sofa.
“Yes, please. Let me move that.” She bent over to pick up the book
she had been reading. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Nothing much really.” He sat down, his eyes lighting upon a silver
picture frame on the coffee table. He leaned forward to pick it up. Beneath
the protective glass was a picture he had never seen before of a man and woman,
a brother and sister. The man was clean-shaven and handsome in an almost too
confident way, but he had his arm protectively wrapped around Hannah’s
shoulders, his dark grey eyes smiling with pride, not cockiness. “Is this
your brother?”
Hannah sat down beside him, her thigh just grazing his, the warmth and
substance of her muscle passing through the smooth fabric she wore. “Mmm-hmm.
The day I graduated from the Academy. I’m always telling Tom how much he
reminds me of Chandler, so he asked me to dig out a photograph. It was in the
bottom of one of my drawers. I planned on putting it away as soon as Tom had
seen it, but now that it’s out, I think I’m going to keep it out.” She took
the frame from his hand and moistened the tip of her finger on her tongue
before rubbing it across a smudge on the glass.
“He looks familiar. Did he play hoverball at the Academy?”
“All the time. He loved the game. His team was undefeated his junior
and senior year.”
Chakotay watched her stare at the picture. “He loved you. In the
photo, I mean. You can see the pride in his eyes.”
“Yes, I guess you can. You know, I didn’t expect him to be there that
day. He was off on some assignment, but somehow he got back in time literally
to see me accept the diploma.” She smiled, but a sadness clung about her eyes.
“I thought the world of him. I thought he knew everything, well, not
everything, but you know what I mean. It’s taken me this long to realize
he didn’t.”
Chakotay chuckled lightly. “That’s part of growing old. It’s taken me
this long to realize my father knew a lot more than I thought he did.”
He looked at the photograph in her lap. “I can see why you say Paris reminds
you of Chandler. I doubt he and I would have gotten along any better than
Paris and I do.”
She frowned. “Tom’s not a bad guy, Commander. I know he’s made some
mistakes, but he’s done everything he can to repay his debt to society. You
know, he was part of the team that found you on the planet.”
“I know. I read the report. I guess if he keeps saving my life, I may
have to start liking him.”
A wry grin crinkled the left side of Hannah’s mouth. “Would that be
so bad? I could say the same thing about you.”
His jaw tightened. “I suppose I deserve that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I think I do.” He cleared his throat. “Look, Hannah, I’ve acted
very jealously over these past few months. I want you to know that no matter
what I may think of Paris personally, if he makes you happy, that is what’s
important. And as far as the soup goes,” His gazed drifted to the floor, and
he redirected it toward her shocked expression. “I’m sorry. I was feeling
angry and guilty over many things, mostly my own actions. I had no right to
take it out on you. You had done nothing to deserve it, and I’m very relieved
you weren’t more seriously burned.”
“Commander, I-”
He shook his head, giving a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t interrupt me,
now; this is hard enough as it is. I hope you can accept my apology, and I
also hope that with time we’ll be able to move past our present discomfort and
become friends again. No matter what has happened or will happen in the
future, I will always think of you in that way.”
She smiled and held out her hand, the flesh, metal, and wire of his
closing tightly around it. “I will, too.”
For the first time in months, the grey eyes shone up at him with
undisguised affection. A pleasant warmth rose up out of his belly and washed
over his body. He quickly released her hand and rose to his feet. “I should
be going. I believe the Doctor would prefer I was alert, rather than tired
tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, I think he likes playing the grumpy one in the Doctor-patient
relationship.” She giggled and then, lowered her head, but not before he saw
a pinkish tint spread across her cheeks.
“Well, good night, Lieutenant.” He hurried for the door, exiting
with such speed, he barely heard her reply over the doors shushing closed.
“Good night, Chakotay.”

From newsfeed.pitt.edu!CTCnet!news.math.psu.edu!chi-news.cic.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in2.uu.net!world!news.bu.edu!acs.bu.edu!crime Sat Feb 17 10:41:04 1996
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From: crime@bu.edu (mary self)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: VOY: Fealty (Chakotay)
Date: 15 Feb 1996 12:45:09 GMT
Organization: Boston University
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DISCLAIMERS: The original characters, etc. belong to Paramount, except for
the character of Hannah Jemison and the story both of which
are mine.

WARNING: THIS STORY DOES CONTAIN SOME MATURE SUBJECT MATTER.

NOTE: It is my understanding that in some Native American cultures a stone
naturally formed in the shape of a heart is a symbol of protection
and, for lack of a better term, good fortune. In other words, it is
not something you would give to a casual acquaintance.

Further, any technobabble which appears in this story is just that
babble. I claim no real understanding of the real or fictitious
mechanics involved in Voyager’s design or operation.

BACKGROUND: Hannah Jemison made her first appearance in 1995 in the story,
`Regrets’. This is Chakotay’s and her fourth story. `Minimi’
is a quasi-nickname given to her by the first officer.

Fealty

By Carly Hunter
copyright 1996

“Ow!” Lieutenant Hannah Jemison opened her grey eyes to the sky.
Carefully raising her head, she peered at the man who bent over her stomach.
“Don’t move!” came the harsh command.
“But it hurts.”
“Look,” Commander Chakotay sat back on in his heels in exasperation.
“Do you want a raven or a vulture on your stomach?”
“A raven, but-”
“No buts then. Don’t move. This is difficult enough as it is. I told
you my brother was the artist in the family.” He bent back down.
Hannah slowly lowered her head. Gazing up at the puffy, white clouds,
she concentrated on what shapes she could see. She thought back to their climb
up the side of Mt. Runyon. Over the past few weeks, the first officer had
given her mountain climbing lessons on the holodeck; the tattoo was to be a
symbol of her first successful climb.
Finally, Chakotay raised up from his crouch, gingerly stretching the
stiff muscles in his neck and back. “There. All done.”
Jemison lifted up on her elbows to glance at the glyph which now
decorated the skin between her right hip and navel. A grin lit up her face.
“Thank you. It’s lovely. You’re a good artist, in spite of what you say.”
He returned the smile, but shook his head in modest denial. “Can I ask
you a question? Why a raven?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just always liked them, ever since I first saw
them on a visit to my grandparents’ farm in New England. People think they’re
ugly, I’ve always been fascinated by their power and intelligence.”
“Really?” The Indian leaned forward to stradle her, forcing Hannah
to lie back down. “In some of my people’s mythology, the crow is a creator, in
others, a trickster. Which are you, Minimi?”
“Perhaps some of both. I-ahhh.” Her train of thought vanished as he
began nibbling the flesh beneath her jaw. Her fingers wove their way through
the short greying hair. “Is this part of some ceremony I wasn’t told about?”
He chuckled softly and flicked the tip of his tongue along the outside
of her ear. “Maybe.”
“Janeway to Lt. Jemison.”
Chakotay groaned audibly in frustration as he rolled off Hannah.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Please report to my ready room, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Captain. I’m on my way.” She turned on her side and gazed at
the prone figure. “You know, she’s getting good at, um, interrupting us.”
“Too good,” he growled, staring up at the sky. “Computer, end
program.”
The mountain top and sky vanished, leaving both of them lying on the
holodeck floor. Hannah stood up and tucked in her shirt. Turning, she offered
a hand to Chakotay.
Reluctantly, he grasped it, hoisting himself up. “Dinner tonight?”
“Of course.” She smiled, placing her arms about his neck. “Why? Do
you have other plans?”
“For after dinner, perhaps, if you’re interested.” The dark eyes
glittered suggestively.
“Mmm. Sounds intriguing. Any hint as to what they might be?”
A roguish grin lit up his features. “I suppose one hint wouldn’t
hurt,” he whispered, gently touching his lips to hers. “Or maybe even two.”
The second kiss lasted a little longer.
“Why stop there?” Hannah inquired as his mouth pulled away.
“Because you have to change and report to the Captain. And we both
know that wouldn’t happen if we didn’t stop right now.”
She let out a slow sigh of regret and stepped back. “Why are you
always the sensible one? 1800 hours in the mess?”
He shook his head. “My quarters. I’ve been saving up replicator
rations for a dinner for two.”
“Mmmm.” The grey eyes twinkled. “Real, non-Neelix food?”
“Real food.”
“A special occasion calls for something equally special.” Jemison bent
down and picked up her backpack.
“And just what do you mean by that, Minimi?”
Hannah laughed mysteriously as she headed for the doors. “You’ll see.”
She turned and blew him a flirtatious kiss before exiting.
“Trickster,” he chuckled to himself.

A few minutes later, Hannah presented herself to Captain Janeway. To
her surprise, Lt. Tuvok, the ship’s chief of security was also present.
“Ah, Lt. Jemison. Good of you to come. At ease.” Janeway glanced
up from her desk terminal.
“Captain. Lieutenant.” The young woman nodded at the Vulcan, who
inclined his head in reply.
“It appears, Lieutenant, that the ship is experiencing a few minor
system malfunctions. I wanted you to be aware of this, so you could exercise
more than your usual discretion when conducting experiments over the next
few days.”
“I understand, Captain, but couldn’t this have been relayed over
the comm?”
Tuvok cleared his throat. “I am afraid that I am the one who requested
your presence, both as a matter of protocol and curiosity. As head of security
for the ship, I thought it wise for me to receive confirmation of your
Intelligence affiliation. It is possible a situation could arise during which
a compromise of your knowledge might pose a danger to Voyager.”
Hannah’s jaw dropped slightly, and she quickly shifted her gaze from
him to Janeway. “Captain, I was under the impression that my `affiliation’
was to remain confidential.”
“It has.” The older woman frowned. “Lt. Tuvok read your report on the
Kazon and deduced your position on his own. He came to me to report his
suspicions and relay concerns over your possible capture by any group.”
“Furthermore, Lieutenant,” the Vulcan interjected. “As an undercover
agent, I was aware that I would be turning over the Maquis to Capt. Janeway
and a member of Star Fleet Intelligence. As only an ensign at the time, you
strike me as remarkably inexperienced for that assignment.”
The scientist shook her head. “I’m not the person to whom you were
to surrender the Maquis. My specialty is technological intelligence. I was
responsible for down-loading and evaluating the information contained in their
ship’s logs.”
“I see. Then, perhaps you can tell me who was responsible for
overseeing the transfer.”
“Does it matter, Lieutenant?” Hannah fired back, her fury mounting
exponentially. “He’s dead; he died when the Caretaker brought us over.”
“You are correct, Hannah.” Janeway interceded gently. “In that case,
it does no longer matter.”
“Then, may I be excused, Captain? That is unless you wish to
interrogate me further, Lieutenant.” The question bordered on insubordination,
but the junior officer was beyond caring. Two people knew now. How long did
she have before Chakotay found out?
“One more thing, Lieutenant Jemison. I have observed that you have
developed a friendship with Commander Chakotay.” The security chief continued,
unpreturbed by the young scientist’s emotional outburst. “I am curious. Is
this a continuation of your duties as an Intelligence officer?”
“*It* is personal. It has nothing to do with my former assignment.”
She spun angrily on Janeway. “You gave me a choice, Captain. Intelligence or
science, and I chose to be your science officer for the remainder of this trip.
I thought we had an understanding regarding this matter.”
The captain calmly levelled her gaze at the younger woman. “I simply
wanted to make sure we did, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”
Shooting a furious glance at the security chief, Hannah stormed out of
the ready room.
Janeway watched her exit. “A very spirited young officer.”
“Indeed.”
“Dedicated and conscientious, too.”
“So I have noticed, Captain.”
“I wonder if the Commander is aware of her feelings for him?” Janeway
raised questioning eyes to her old friend.
The Vulcan lifted one eyebrow in a knowing, silent reply.

Fuming, Hannah blew into the science lab, barely acknowledging Gerron’s
cheerful greeting. At least rescheduling the experiments would give her time
to cool off. Tonight promised to be special, and she didn’t want anything to
interfere with their enjoyment of it. Besides, Chakotay would want to know
what caused her irritability, and she couldn’t very well tell him, could she?
By the time, Jemison returned to her quarters, it was almost
1730 hours, giving her just enoungh time to gather a few things together.
Carefully, she removed the soft Rigellian knit dress from a drawer, letting it
fall to its full length. The material alone had cost her almost one week’s
replicator rations, but the outcome had been worth it. The dress looked good
on her, clinging to her curves in all the right places. She felt certain that
the Commander would likewise approve. Folding it with care, she placed it, a
fresh uniform and a few toiletries in a small box.
A few minutes later, she pressed the chime to Chakotay’s quarters.
Without hesitation, the door slid open.
“Right on time, as always,” he observed, stepping forward to embraced
her. Their lips locked in a lengthy kiss. “Mm. Now, what about this
surprise? And what’s in the box?”
Hannah glanced around. The room was lit by low candle power with the
coffee table set for an intimate dinner for two.
“Minimi.”
She lifted her eyes slowly toward his, a warm smile of appreciation
lighting up her face. He looked good, relaxed. The light cream shirt
emphasized his darker skin. Playfully, she undid the first three buttons,
exposing a portion of his broad chest.
He smiled at her boldness. A few months ago, neither of them would
have dared act upon these impulses. Inclining his head, their lips met again
briefly. “Now, Lieutenant,” The deep whisper made her skin tingle. “What
about this surprise?”
A puckish grin matched the shining grey eyes. “You’ll see. I just
need to borrow your bathroom.”
“Be my guest. You know where it is.”
A short time later, she emerged wearing the long navy dress, its design
cut to reveal one shoulder and the portion of her stomach where the tattoo was.
Her mahogany hair, held in place by two combs, cascaded down her back. She
thrust her right hip forward. “See. You’re not such a bad artist.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, a wide smile broke across Chakotay’s
features. “That dress is going to make it very difficult for me to keep my
mind on dinner.” He stepped forward and drew her into his arms.
Hannah laughed, curling her own arms around his neck. “That’s the
general idea, I believe. Although, I am starving. I designed the dress
deliberately to show off the tattoo.” Stepping back, she twirled around
causing the full skirt to fly out. “What do you think?”
The brow crinkled in mock deliberation. “I think you’re right. The
raven does suit you. You are both a creator and a trickster.” Grinning, he
pulled her close once again, silencing her retort with a lingering kiss.

The next morning, Chakotay woke up gradually, relishing each moment of
increased consciousness. Hannah still slept, cuddled up behind him, one arm
draped over his ribs, her head pressed against his back. He glanced at the
chronometer. 0630 hours. Time enough for a leisurly shower and breakfast
for two.
“Minimi,” he whispered, gently rolling over. Raising his arm, he
allowed her head to slip into the crook of his shoulder. “Minimi, it’s time
to get up. C’mon, sleepyhead.”
“Mmmm,” came the soft sigh. “Can’t we stay like this a little longer?”
“How much longer?”
“The rest of the day. Couldn’t you arrange for us to have the day
off?” Hannah snuggled closer and pressed her lips to his chest.
“No can do, lazybones. Although, I would if I could, believe me.”
He turned on his side to face her. “How about a shower and breakfast instead,
just the two of us?”
“Hmm. I suppose it’ll have to do.”
His tongue teased its way into her mouth. “Don’t worry. I intend to
make it worth your while.”
“Really? And just how do you propose to- ohhh,” Hannah moaned quietly
as the first officer’s hand slipped between her legs. He was so gentle, yet
insistent, coaxing her quickly into a moistened state of arousal.
Smirking, Chakotay brought his lips to hers. “Now, how about that
shower? You seem pretty awake to me.”
“So do you,” she retorted, feeling him twitch and harden beneath her
slim fingers.
His heavier body pressed her over onto her back. “Touche,” he
countered, covering her mouth again with his.
At 0750, they finally emerged from his quarters ready for duty. After
a quick check of the corridor, they kissed their farewells and headed for their
respective posts, tiny, secretive smiles on both their faces.

“Good morning, Commander.” Janeway stood in front of her chair as
Chakotay stepped onto the bridge.
“Good morning to you, Captain.” The first officer playfully inclined
his head in respect before taking his customary seat.
“You’re in a good mood,” she continued. “You obviously did not eat
breakfast in the mess.”
“No, Captain. I didn’t. What did I miss?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Paris commented from the helm. “The toast
seemed the safest thing to eat.”
“Oh. One of those meals.”
“Exactly.” Janeway nodded. “One of those meals.”
“Captain,” Ensign Kim interrupted. “Deck 9 is reporting a problem
with environmental controls again. Evidently, the entire deck just plunged
five degrees. Repair crews are responding.”
“Noted.” A frown creased the Captain’s brow. “Commander, Tuvok, my
ready room. Mr. Paris, you have the bridge.”
“Aye, Captain,” the young man responded.
“Gentlemen,” Janeway began as the doors closed behind them. “These
malfunctions are starting to concern me. The number of reports is steadily
increasing. Who’s to say what system will be effected next.”
“I believe, Captain,” Tuvok’s steady voice proposed. “That it would
be prudent to consider this as possibly more than a simple series of system
malfunctions.”
“What do you mean, Tuvok?”
“I am suggesting that since Lt. Torres has been unable to pinpoint the
source of the problem mechanically, the possibility of direct sabotage must be
explored.”
“Sabotage?” The Captain sank slowly into her chair. “Oh, Tuvok, I
don’t like that idea one little bit. However, given our past encounters with
the Kazon Nistrum, you may be correct. Investigate the probability, but this
must go no further than the three of us. If it is sabotage, someone on board
may be working against us, and I don’t wish to tip our hand as to our
suspicions.”
“Understood, Captain. I thought perhaps I might consult Lt. Jemison,
however. Her background might prove useful.”
At the sound of the scientist’s name, Chakotay started. “Jemison?
Why her?”
Ignoring her first officer’s outburst, Janeway nodded. “Of course,
Tuvok. Good idea. Dismissed.”
Silently, the Vulcan turned on his heels and exited, leaving a confused
Chakotay behind.
“Is there something I can do for you, Commander?”
“Yes, Captain. I’d appreciate an explanation as to why our chief of
security is asking our science officer to aid him in an investigation of this
nature. Surely, Lt. Torres or Ensign Kim would be the more logical choice.”
Janeway studied him for a moment. So, he didn’t know. Had Tuvok been
deliberately testing the waters when he mentioned Jemison? “I’m sorry,
Commander. I can’t answer that, but I do see the wisdom of his decision.”
The dark brow furrowed. “Is it because Jemison is Star Fleet and
Torres is Maquis?”
“No. I remain quite confident in Lt. Torres’ loyalty. Her past
affiliation with the Maquis does not enter into this.”
“Then why?”
“I am sorry, Commander, but as I said before, I can’t tell you.
Perhaps you should discuss this Lt. Jemison. Dismissed.”
The first officer stared back at her, first in confusion, then in
gradually increasing anger. “Very well, Captain.” With haste, he left the
room, cursing himself silently for his myopic stupidity.
That damned report of their capture by the Kazon. So detailed.
So precise. So utterly unlike anything an inexperienced officer would have
had the presence of mind to write. *Paetah! You should have seen the signs.
Janeway and Tuvok obviously did; perhaps they had even already known. Foolish,
blind old man.* He sat in his bridge chair deep in thought, barely
acknowledging Janeway’s resumption of command.
Deliberately, he took the lunch watch, avoiding the mess and Hannah.
He was determined to skip dinner, too. His heart was heavy enough; he didn’t
need Neelix’s cooking to weigh it down further.
Finally, at 1700 hours, Chakotay escaped the bridge for the confines
of his darkened quarters. Had it all been part of an assignment? Was all they
had shared meaningless to her? His thoughts returned to the previous evening.
She had looked lovely in that dress. And later . . . The intimacy they had
shared had seemed so genuine. He shut his eyes, bringing his fist crashing
down upon his desk. *Idiot! Would this be the first time intimacy proved
false? Or have you forgotten how close you and Seska used to be? Maybe you
wanted to forget.*
Taking a few deep breaths, he attempted to clear his mind before
calling to his guide. But she would not come. Instead, images of Hannah
flashed before him. Growling in anger, he slammed his palm down on the desk.
“Damn her!”

Hannah sat down in the mess at their usual table. *Where is he?*
She looked up as the doors opened. *Damn. Not him.* “Computer, location of
Commander Chakotay.”
“Commander Chakotay is in his quarters.”
*His quarters! But we always eat at this time.* Quickly, she rose
and headed for the doors. In the back of her mind, a carefully ignored
apprehension had been creeping up on her all day. It had begun when Tuvok had
asked for her assistance this morning. It had continued when Chakotay had
missed lunch. Now, as Hannah hurried down the corridor toward his quarters, it
threatened to overtake her. Uttering a small prayer, she pressed the chime.
“Come in.” The room was barely lit, and the voice was cold. Rather
than rise to greet her, he remained seated at his desk. “Yes, Lieutenant.
What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering why you weren’t at dinner.”
“I didn’t feel hungry.” His jaw tightened visibly. “Is this a
personal visit? If so, I don’t believe we have anything to discuss at the
moment.”
“What? I don’t understand.” *Oh God, he knows.*
“Really? I’m surprised. Let me put it another way. Has Lt. Tuvok
been making good use of your intelligence training today?”
“Chakotay, please. Let me explain.” Without asking permission, Hannah
dropped into a nearby chair.
The first officer glared at her. “You’ve had time to explain. You
chose not to.”
“No, you don’t understand.” The grey eyes pleaded. “I wanted to tell
you, but I was afraid. After Seska, I wasn’t sure how you would take my
disclosure, and I didn’t want to lose all that we had gained.”
“I see. So rather than be honest, you lied.”
“No. I never lied to you. I simply didn’t tell you I was SI.”
“It’s the same thing.” The white teeth bared in an angry sneer. “I
trusted you, Jemison. Tell me, were the rituals only a source of entertainment
or did you have a professional interest in them as well?
“I did them because I wanted to. I did them because they are a part
of you.”
“So you did them to pick my brain apart. Couldn’t my Star Fleet psych
profile have told you just as much?”
The young woman’s head shook vehemently. “No, you misunderstand.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” Jemison snapped. “If you’d let me explain, you’d
realize that I care about you, Chakotay. I wanted to be a part of you life.
Can’t you see that?”
“I see plenty now. And what were you going to do if we got home.
Testify against me like a good little agent? A little surprise to relieve
the monotony of the trial?” The dark eyes glittered dangerously.
“No. I wouldn’t have testified. I would have resigned first.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t readily accept that assertion of
self-sacrifice.”
“Dammit, Chakotay,” Hannah swore. “It’s the truth. I wouldn’t have-”
“Truth? From what I’ve seen of truth and honesty over the past few
years, I’ve begun to doubt their existence.” He bent over a PADD. “I’m very
busy, Lieutenant. Please leave. I don’t believe we have anything more to
discuss.”
“Chakotay, please. Listen to me.”
Slamming a fist down on the desk, the Indian rose, barely in control
of his rage. “Dismissed, Lieutenant!” The voice thundered loudly within the
confines of the room.
Hannah’s eyes opened wide in fear, as prudence told her to beat a
temporary retreat. As she trudged toward the turbolift, a heavy emptiness
gradually replaced the anger she felt inside. *How could I have told him?
Even if I had, would his reaction have been any different?* She stepped into
the lift and leaned against the side of the car, fighting back tears.
“Deck 6,” her brain suggested automatically.
Sandrine’s was already up and running when Hannah reached the holodeck.
In one corner, the only other crewmember present, Tom Paris, was nuzzling the
neck of his `holographic honey’, Ricki. A sympathetic smile dallied on
Hannah’s lips. Poor Paris. Deep down, she knew he was a good guy. He
reminded her a lot of her late brother, Chandler. On the outside, a handsome
flirtatious ass, but on the inside, a guy who would risk his life to save a
friend.
The smile widened slightly as she remembered the first time her brother
had snuck her into a bar and gotten her plastered on real booze. He had
taught her how to play pool, throw darts and head off too amorous advances.
Of course, Chandler had had the good sense to know when to straighten up and
fly right; Tom didn’t, but then he had probably never had to. Having an
admiral as a father bought you a lot more unofficial leeway than a
Lt. Commander. That was really the only difference between Tom and Chandler.
Her brother had learned life’s lessons step-by-step; whereas Paris had had
the rug pulled out from beneath his feet and panicked.
As Hannah crossed over to the bar, she cast one more glance at the
fantasy couple. Poor guy. Ricki was probably the only `woman’ on board
who would give him the time of day. The Maquis, men and women, still
harbored some distrust toward him, and most of the Fleet girls wouldn’t
bother with such a screw-up. Well, all except the Delaney sisters, but they
gave almost every male the time of day.
“A shot of your best scotch, Sandrine, and don’t stop until I tell
you.” Jemison grinned half-heartedly at the blond proprieter.
“Right away, mademoiselle.”
A shot glass full of amber liquid was placed in front of Hannay. She
picked it up, turning it slowly in hand, watching the fire and lamplight
flicker in its golden depths. “Down the hatch,” she muttered, draining the
contents. “Another, please.”
As she waited, Paris ambled up, having quietly ordered the computer
to remove Ricki. It wasn’t often Jemison came in by herself. Usually, she
was either with her pool partner, Dalby, or more often than not, the Commander.
Tonight, though, she was alone, and experience had taught him to seize the
moment. Taking a seat beside Hannah, he nodded at Sandrine and pointed to
his own empty glass. “Haven’t seen you in here alone in some time. Where’s
the Commander?”
“Probably in his quarters. How the hell should I know?” Hannah
picked up her second drink and promptly downed it.
“Hey, take it easy, will ya? I’m just asking. You two come in here
quite often together, that’s all. Rumor even has it that you’re seeing each
other.” Carefully, Tom tested the waters to see if his hunch was correct.
“Oh yeah? Well, rumor has it wrong.”
*Bingo!* He watched her toss back her third shot. *Lucky those aren’t
real or she’d be falling off the stool in a few minutes.* “So, what happened?
You two break-up?”
“Look,” Slamming down her glass, Jemison spun angrily on the fair-
haired man. “I came here to drink and shoot a rack or two, not to discuss the
accuracy of the ship’s rumor mill, okay?”
“Okay. Sorry.” A look of contrite innocence crossed Paris’ face.
“Shall I set the table up?”
“Please.”
Thirty minutes later, Tom raised up from successfully sinking his
second straight 8-ball. “May I make an observation if you promise not to split
my head open with that cue?”
“Go ahead.” The grey eyes didn’t bother to look up as Hannah rounded
the table, emptying the pockets.
“Your mind isn’t on your game.”
“Really? And what gave you your first clue? The fact that I keep
scratching or the fact that you’ve won both games?”
“Actually, the fact that you keep biting my head off whenever I open
my mouth.” A playful smile crept across the handsome face. “That and the
little black cloud hovering about half a meter above your head.”
Hannah glanced up and grinned slightly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.
You’ve been polite, and I’ve been downright rude.”
“Apology accepted. Do you want to talk? It might make you feel
better.”
“Not really. I just want to get drunk and shoot some pool. Something
I haven’t done since . . . Well, in years, let’s leave it at that.”
“Sounds good to me.” Paris stolled over to the replicator. “I
believe this calls for the real stuff or rather as close as we can come. Name
your poison.”
“Let’s start with scotch, and then move on from there.”
Tom grinned. “A lady who mixes her liquors. You’re a woman after
my own heart, Jemison.”
“Not especially, Paris,” Hannah muttered under her breath as she placed
the balls inside the rack. “But in a crunch, you’ll do.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. I was just trying to decide what my chances are for losing
a third game in a row.”
The pilot came up behind her with two full shot glasses and a bottle,
now only three-quarters full. “That all depends.”
“On?”
“On how well we blow through this bottle and how much you let me win.”
Throwing back his head, Tom drained his glass.
Hannah grimaced, tossing down her own shot. “I don’t intend to let you
win, Paris.”
“That’s good. I like a challenge.” He filled up both glasses, which
they quickly emptied.
“Oh, you do, do you?” A brown eyebrow lifted curiously. “And am I
a challenge?”
The blue eyes regarded her silently for a moment. “Yeah, you are.
I’ve been trying to figure you out ever since I first saw you in here.”
Tentatively, Paris brushed her cheek with his hand. “But up until now, I
haven’t had much success.”
Hannah shook her head sadly. “Don’t bother, Lieutenant. Underneath
this uniform, there isn’t much to see.”
Tom’s hand slipped behind her head and pulled her face toward his.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” he whispered.
The kiss was everything Hannah had expected from Paris, soft, teasing,
and full of suggestion. But it was wrong, terribly wrong. Placing her hands
against his chest, she pushed herself away. “No. I’m sorry, Tom. It’s my
fault. I shouldn’t-”
“Shouldn’t what? Listen, Jemison, I’m not under any illusions as to
what is happening here. I heard you just fine earlier; in a crunch, I’ll do.
For one reason or another, you want some company tonight. Well, I’m not busy,
and I do find you attractive. So have another drink. We’ll shoot one more
game, and then, if you want, we can take the bottle and go back to my quarters
or yours and talk or whatever. How’s that?”
The hurt behind the nonchalent facade was clearly visible in the blue
eyes. “Tom, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to be so-so-”
“Audible?” The pilot grinned ruefully. “Forget it. We all need a
little company now and then, and like I said, I don’t mind providing it.” He
poured out a third round. “Now, come on. Drink up. It’s still my break, I
believe.”

“Ugh.” Hannah squinted at her still-uniformed reflection in the
bathroom mirror. The alarm had gone off ten minutes ago, and here she still
stood, her head thundering louder than a tropical rainstorm. “Why did I drink
so damn much?” The pale person staring back at her was mute.
At the sound of the chime, she finally pulled herself away from the
mirror. “Come in.”
“Hey, Jemison.” Paris called. He looked around the room. “Hey,
where- Oh, there you are. ‘Scuse me for saying so, but you look awful.”
“No kidding. Just how much did I consume last night?”
“A little less than me. That’s why I brought you this.” He held out
a glass containing a thick reddish liquid.
Hannah took it from him hesitantly and sniffed. “What is it?”
“Uncle Thomas’ hangover cure. Got me to more than one Academy class
on time after a too-wild night, and it’s getting me to the bridge today. Go
on, drink it down.” He gently nudged her elbow. “That’s it. Guaranteed to
put the twinkle in your eye and the spring in your step.”
“What’s in it. It’s awful.”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that. A few hopes, a few dreams.”
Paris stared thoughtfully down at the floor. *Correction, Thomas. A lot of
dashed hopes and more than a few lost dreams.* He grinned regretfully, shaking
his head. “Sorry to wax poetic on you like that. Just remembering when I
first concocted the potion my second year at the Academy. So, you feeling
better yet?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.” Hannah smiled. The pounding had slowed
considerably, and her stomach wasn’t quite as unsettled. “Thanks, Paris.”
“Don’t mention it. You make a good drinking buddy. Where did you
learn `The Cadet’s Proposal’?”
“I had an older brother. We shared the same sense of humor, suggestive
and at times downright bawdy.”
Tom chuckled. “Wish I’d met him. The three of us would have had a lot
of fun. Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but I hope you and the
Commander work things out. He and I don’t get along all that well; however,
I think the two of you make a pretty decent couple.”
Hannah fidgeted nervously. “Just how do you know about that?”
“I’ve been watching you two for a while now. At first, I thought I was
just sizing up the possible competition, but after a while, I realized that I
had already lost. Oh, don’t worry; you two were very good at keeping it
underwraps.” Paris snickered at her shocked expression. “In fact, the rest
of the ship is probably clueless, but every now and then, there was a gleam
in both of your eyes that couldn’t be explained away by simple friendship.”
His bright grin broadened. “You’re blushing, Lieutenant.”
The grey eyes darted around the room as Hannah desparately sought
an alternative explanation. In the end, her search was unsuccessful. “Yeah,
well. Whatever was once there won’t be visible to you or anyone else anymore.
He and I are through.”
“Hmm, so I might have a chance now?” The blue eyes twinkled
mischievously. “I have been waiting patiently.”
“You never stop, do you?” Jemison giggled. “A regular wolf in sheep’s
clothing.”
The pilot threw back his head in laughter. “That’s me. Look, I don’t
want to push you, but if you’d like to have dinner or shoot some pool
later. . . Well, you know.”
“Yeah, I know where to find you,” the scientist chuckled gently. “I’ve
got to get ready for my shift, but thanks for the potion, Tom. I really do
feel a whole lot better.”
Paris gave a little bow. “My pleasure, m’lady.” He headed for the
door, colliding with Chakotay as he exited. “Commander, I-I-”
“Save it, Paris,” the older man growled. “I’m not stupid. Now, get
out!”
The young man shot a hesitant glance toward Hannah before he bolted
down the hall. *Not exactly a good luck charm, are you, Thomas?*
“Well,” Chakotay continued, glaring at the pale woman before him. “It
didn’t take you long to find another sucker, did it? It’ll be interesting to
see who outcons who.”
“He’s not a sucker. After our argument, I paid a visit to Sandrine’s.
Tom happened to be there. We shot some pool, had a few too many drinks, and
talked. He only stopped by this morning to give me something for my hangover.”
She held up the empty glass before tossing it down the reclamator. “Although
why I’m explaining this to you escapes me. It’s none of your business what I
do in my off-hours.”
“Only when it interferes with your duties, Lieutenant.”
Hannah gaped. “My duties? I beg your pardon?”
The senior officer scowled at his subordinate, drawing subconscious
pleasure from her self-induced misery. “The breakdowns are spreading, Jemison.
The Captain wants us both down in engineering.”
“Fine,” the scientist shot back, her own eyes glittering angrily.
“Give me a second to change.” She disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a
few minutes later looking slightly less wan and dissheveled. “Let’s go.”
They walked to the lift in stony silence and waited for the doors to
open. When they did, Hannah stepped forward into nothingness.
“Hannah!” Chakotay’s hand shot out, missing her entirely.
The young woman’s scream echoed up and down the empty lift shaft as
she fell, one hand sliding down the wall until she clung precariously to the
deck’s floor.
“Hold on, Lieutenant.” The first officer lay flat on his stomach and
reached over the edge of the deck, slipping one hand around each of her arms.
“Can you get a toe-hold on anything?”
“I’m trying. There’s nothing here. If I can just . . . Got it! Now,
I can- AIIEEE!” Another scream filled the shaft as her foot slipped.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let you fall. Remember
what I taught you and try again.”
“It’s no use. My foot will slip again.”
“You’ve got to do it.” Chakotay grunted, his arms and shoulders aching
from the strain. “I can’t hold onto you forever.”
“Then, let me go.”
“You know I won’t do that,” he grimaced. “Now try again.”
With a small prayer, Hannah jammed her boot into the tiny gap. “Oww!
There. I think I’ve got it.”
“Okay, that’s it. I’ve got you. Oof! Damn, Jemison, you must be
putting on weight.”
“Shut up.”
A small grin crossed the Indian’s face. “C’mon. A little further.
There.” Forgetting his fury, he sat up and pulled the shaking body into his
arms. “It’s okay, Minimi. It’s okay. You’re safe, now.” Gently, he stroked
the mahogany hair while she clung to him, panting with relief. After a few
seconds, he touched his commbadge. “Chakotay to Janeway.”
“Go ahead, Commander.”
“Captain, a shipwide warning concerning the use of turbolifts should
be made. Evidently, they have become effected, too.”
“Understood. Janeway out.”
Chakotay looked down at the head resting against his chest. “Are you
all right?”
Hannah glanced up, her pupils still dialated in fear. “Yeah, I’m fine.
Thanks to you.” She chuckled nervously. “Seems like you’re always saving me
in one way or another.”
A relieved smile lit up the Commander’s features. “I’m just glad I
was here.”
“Me too,” she snickered. “Although, ten minutes ago, neither of us
would’ve said so.”
A rigid mask descended over the Indian’s face. “True. Perhaps we
should be getting down to engineering.”
Silently cursing her imprudent words, Jemison closed her eyes and sat
up. “You’re right, Commander.” Slowly, she got to her feet, swaying slightly.
The first officer’s arm clutched hers in response, concern momentarily
breaching the stony facade. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Angered by her weakness, she proudly shook free of his hand. “I’m
fine.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
The lift doors opened again, and this time a car was there, which took
them to engineering without incident.

Chakotay leaned back in his desk chair and closed his eyes wearily.
It was 1430 hours. After almost losing her down the liftshaft, he had worked
off and on with Hannah all day, trying desperately to maintain his professional
edge. The strain had taken its toll. Inhaling deeply, he spread his hands out
on the desk. Maybe now, he could contact his guide. The door chimed. And
maybe not.
“Come in,” he responded, ruefully opening his eyes to the call of duty.
“Can I do something for you, Mr. Paris?” Wonderful. The next to last person
on the ship he wanted to see.
The pilot grinned uneasily; Chakotay’s wrath this morning still weighed
heavily on his mind. “Actually, Commander, there was something I wanted to
tell you.”
“Oh?”
Paris clasped his hands anxiously behind his back and approached the
desk. “Look, Chakotay. Nothing happened between myself and Lt. Jemison last
night. We shot some pool, got drunk, and I escorted her back to her quarters.
Then, I left and went to mine. I didn’t touch her except to help her pull her
boots off. Honest. We were both too ripped to do anything other than pass
out.” The younger man paused. “As far as Sandrine’s goes, we might have
kissed once or twice, but that was all. She was hurt and needed a little
company.”
“And you were just the `man’ to provide it, weren’t you?” The first
officer’s face darkened considerably. He didn’t know what made him angrier
that she had hidden the truth from him or that she had turned to this
contemptible degenerate for comfort. “Why do you believe I need to know this,
Lieutenant?” The voice was deceptively quiet.
“Because I know how she feels about you, and I also happen to know you
have feelings for her.”
“Really?” Tanned hands gripped the chair’s arms so tightly the
knuckles whitened, but the temper remained miraculously in check. “And just
how did you come by this alleged piece of information?”
Paris raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”
“I think so. I’m not fond of having my private life being the source
of speculation among the crew.”
“Speculation?” The pilot gave a nervous chuckle. “Aw, come on,
Commander. I’d hardly call it speculation. The affection was plainly visible
if you knew what to look for.”
“Was it now?”
“Yes, it was. Look, Chakotay. I’m trying to help. Hannah wouldn’t
say what you two fought about, but whatever it was upset her badly. I thought
you might want to know that.”
The Indian glared at the conn officer. *Of all the people for Hannah
to confide in. Liar. Traitor. You two deserve one another.* “Get out of
my sight, Paris. And stay out of it, if you know what’s good for you,” he
growled, slowly rising to his feet. “I don’t need anyone, especially you,
telling me how to live my life.”
As the older man advanced around the desk, Tom back quickly away.
Chakotay had been angry with him before, but never like this. He could swear
there was even a murderous gleam in the dark eyes. “Yeah, sure, Commander.
No problem. The only place you’ll be seeing me is on the bridge.” Turning,
he practically dashed out of the room.
Chakotay sat down on the sofa, breathing heavily. He didn’t want to
think how close he had come to smashing that irritating, handsome face against
the bulkhead. Even more frightening was the pleasure he would have derived
from doing it. Sluggishly rising to his feet, he crossed the room and opened
one of the drawers in the wall. Inside lay his medicine bundle.
“Janeway to all senior officers. Please report to the briefing
room immediately.”
Sighing wearily, he shut the drawer and exited his quarters.

When the first officer entered, Lts. Tuvok and Jemison stood at the
head of the table quietly conferring with Capt. Janeway. Kim and Torres were
already present and both shot him perplexed looks. Paris followed him into the
room at, Chakotay noted with some satisfaction, a respectful distance. As he
and the pilot took their customary seats, the small sub-conference broke up,
allowing Janeway and Tuvok to sit down. Hannah remained standing at the
Captain’s right.
“What is about to be discussed must go no further than this room,”
the Captain began cautiously. “I cannot stress this point enough. Should the
information become generally known, not only would the ship be placed at
greater risk, but Lt. Jemison’s life would also be in danger. However,”
Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at the scientist. “We have discussed
this, and she has voluntarily accepted the risks. Lieutenant.”
Hannah cleared her throat. “All of you know me. What you do not know
is that I am not simply a science officer. I am a member of Star Fleet
Intelligence; my mission was to download and evaluate the infomation contained
within the Maquis ship’s sensor logs. Circumstances have obviously changed
that. So, I contented myself with fulfilling my cover assignment and becoming
a regular member of the crew. Nothing more, nothing less.” She stared
pointedly at Chakotay for a brief moment before continuing.
“But once again, circumstances have forced me to alter my position.
Research on the malfunctions the ship has been experiencing has led me to
discover the presence of a computer virus, and now, with Lt. Tuvok’s help,
I have found a way to eradicate it.” Hannah paused to allow what she said to
sink in.
Tom glanced at Chakotay. Now, it made sense. If the Commander had
found this out only recently, it would explain their abrupt separation. After
Seska, Chakotay had probably blown a gasket. Silently, the young man groaned
in sympathy. *Doomed from the start.*
A look of anger flickered across Torres’ face before her gaze fell
upon Chakotay’s stolid mask. *Professional, B’Elanna. Remember who you are.*
“A virus?”
The scientist nodded. “The virus, itself, is crude in design, but very
effective. I hypothesize that it was activated by remote control on a harmless
sub-space frequency. It appears to have been designed to spread slowly and
erratically until all major systems were involved. I have traced its
introduction back to environmental controls, a ship-wide system with very few
security lockouts. Implanting the virus would have been simple; anyone with a
rudimentary knowledge of Fleet computers could have installed it. The trick
would have been activating it.”
The grey eyes darted cautiously around the table. “I don’t think there
is any doubt as to who is responsible for that. However, since Seska has had
no recent access to the controls, either she planted it before she left or
someone on board is working for her. For that reason, each one of
you must be careful of what you say and around whom you say it. Neither the
Captain, nor I wish to establish a feeling of paranoia, but we must be careful
not to betray our suspicions. Should a Nistrum mole be in place, revealing our
suspicions prematurely could cause him/her to go into temporary hiding.”
“Fine,” Torres snapped. “But what do we do now. Most minor and
several major systems appear to have been affected. Purging those areas could
take days.”
“Exactly.” Hannah confirmed. “The virus has spread too far now to be
isolated and dealt with on a system-by-system basis. Mr. Tuvok, over to you.”
The Vulcan nodded. “I have taken the liberty of examining the charts
in stellar cartography. There is a small nebula about one-half light year off
our current course. Initial sensor readings indicated that its composition
should adequately mask our presence from other ships’ sensors.”
“So?” Paris looked questioningly at the Captain. “Why do we need it?”
“Because,” Jemison moved slowly around the table toward the pilot.
“We are going to have to shut down Voyager’s computer and re-initialize a
start-up, purging the virus in the process. If we don’t, the virus will
continue to spread, and as soon as we clean one system, we’ll have lost
another.”
Kim frowned. “That seems very drastic. Is this the only option we
have?”
“We believe it is.” Tuvok replied. “The Kazon are undoubtedly waiting
for the virus to render our ship inoperable before commencing an attack.”
“But such a procedure will take hours. It will leave us defenseless.”
B’Elanna protested.
“Precisely,” the scientist responded. “Hence the nebula.”
“All right,” The Captain placed both hands on the table and stood up.
“Mr. Paris, get us into that nebula. Mr. Kim, you will assist Lts. Torres and
Jemison in engineering. I want this virus eradicated as soon as possible.
Mr. Tuvok, I want all non-essential personnel confined to quarters and
engineering declared off-limits to all except Kim, Torres, and Jemison.
Commander, you will remain on the bridge with me. It appears all of us will
be pulling a double shift tonight.”
“A word of caution, Captain,” Hannah interrupted. “It follows that
many crewmembers, including the mole, will question their confinement.
I believe that we should inform them that it is for their own safety. Simply
tell them that we are attempting to correct the wide-spread malfunctions within
the ship’s systems. We don’t want to mention one word about the virus; again,
we want to tip our hand as little as possible.”
“Understood?” Janeway glanced around the room. “Very well.
Dismissed.”

Half an hour later, Paris spun around at the helm. “We’ve reached the
nebula, Captain.”
Janeway rose to her feet. “Good. Take us in, one-half impulse until
we reach the middle and then shut down all engines.”
“Aye, Captain. One-half impulse.”
“Janeway to Torres.”
“Torres here.”
“Lieutenant, we’ve reached the nebula. We’ll be shutting down the
engines in another two minutes.”
“Understood. Our first priority will be life support. We should
have it up and running within twenty minutes.”
“Acknowledged.” The Captain retook her seat and peered over at her
still-silent first officer. She smiled encouragingly at him. “I guess all we
can do now is wait. Hmm? Commander?”
His head jerked as if he had been asleep, even though his eyes were
wide open. “Yes, I suppose so, Captain,” he replied absently.
Janeway frowned. “May I see you in my ready room, Commander?
Mr. Tuvok, you have the bridge.”
Slowly, Chakotay rose to his feet and followed her. Once the doors
shut behind them, she turned upon him quickly.
“Commander, I endeavor to make it a practice not to interfere in my
crew’s personal lives, and I don’t intend to start now. Whatever type of
relationship you had formed with Lt. Jemison is none of my business, but right
now, I need your full attention out there on the bridge. The ship’s computer
is going to hell due to sabotage, and as a result, we may be looking at another
Kazon attack. I need to know I can count on you to respond when necessary and
not remain lost in your own private thoughts. Is that clear?”
His humiliation was now complete. First, Paris, now, the Captain.
Chakotay drew himself up stiffly. “Yes, Captain. I apologize. The safety
of the ship and crew come first.”
“Good.” Janeway smirked. “That’s exactly what Lt. Jemison said when
she voluteered to reveal her identity to the senior staff. Make no mistake,
Commander, if we survive this latest crisis, her life will be in danger, either
from the saboteur or a vengeful Maquis crewmember. Right now, she is our ace
in the hole. Seska doesn’t know about her, and we need all the advantages we
can get.”
Concern flickered momentarily in the dark eyes. “Yes, Captain. I will
do my best to insure her safety.”
“See that you do, Commander. We need her.”

Three long hours passed before Torres contacted the bridge to announce
that life-support, communications, sensors and shields were back on-line.
“Good work, Lieutenant. Any idea how long before this ship is back in
working order?” Janeway queried.
“I would say another three hours, at least, Captain. Although, four is
possibly a more reasonable estimate.”
“Understood. Janeway out.”
A sensor alarm distracted the entire bridge crew.
“Captain, sensors are detecting a ship outside the nebula.” Tuvok
announced. “Design configurations match those of the Kazon. Apparently, their
sensors cannot penetrate the cloud well enough to locate us. However, they may
have hypothesized our location through sensor sweeps of the surrounding areas
of space.”
“Janeway to engineering. B’Elanna, I don’t want to rush you, but we
now have a Kazon warship sitting in wait outside the nebula. How soon before
we’ll have propulsion and weapons systems back on-line?”
“The engines should be coming on-line in the next forty-five minutes.”
“Good. And weapons?”
“Weapons will take longer. We haven’t even started on them.”
“Then, I suggest you do. Janeway out.”
Down in engineering, Hannah looked up from her console. “She wants the
impossible, you know.”
Torres smirked, but did not look up. “That’s why she’s the Captain.”
“I guess they’re all alike when you get down to it,” the scientist
chuckled uneasily. “Um, what was said in the briefing room, did it bother
you?”
“What part?”
“The, ah, personal part.” They were alone, except for Harry, who was
working at another console, but Hannah still felt hesitant about discussing
anything specific.
“You mean, do I feel betrayed?” Glaring, she swung on Jemison. “Yeah,
I do. How would you feel?”
“The same, I suppose. But it wasn’t done from malice, and now, there
is a risk involved.”
The engineer paused for a moment. “Yes, I can see where there would
be.” Her fingers resumed their dance over the console. She had only known
the scientist socially at Sandrine’s, but she had like Hannah. It had been
good to see her make Chakotay smile; something he rarely did after their
run-ins with Seska. “The Commander seemed quite accepting of your, ah,
report.”
Hannah snickered. “That isn’t the way I would have described it. He’s
had twenty-four hours to process the new information.”
“Twenty-four!” Torres spun around open-mouthed. “You mean, all this
time, he-”
“Had no idea?” The other woman shook her head sadly. “My fault, I’m
afraid. I should have kept him better informed, but I didn’t think things
would get so out-of-hand. Oh well, twenty-twenty hindsight.”
“So, you and he-”
Jemison shot B’Elanna a warning glance. “Yes. We had words over the
report omissions. I tried to explain my reluctance to brief him fully, but
no go. He wanted everything up front and by the book.”
Torres nodded. To her surprise, she could see both sides. Thanks to
Seska, Chakotay’s pride had suffered several attacks lately, and she could
understand Jemison’s hesitance to risk another one. “I think, I understand.
In many ways, he’s still Maquis, even though, he also tries to be Star Fleet.”
Hannah grimaced. “The entire crew is that way. Sometimes, there’s
a gap between the two sides that is difficult to bridge.”
“But we keep working at it.” Kim called over. “Are you two going to
talk and leave me to do all the work? In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve got
a Kazon ship sitting out there.”
“Point taken, Star Fleet.” B’Elanna grinned. “Jemison, do you have
any idea about getting the weapons back on-line faster?”
“What if we by-passed connecting the secondary relays. It would speed
up the response time and allow an increased amount of energy through the
phaser coupling?”
Torres shook her head. “But that would burn out the primary relay.”
“Not if we protected it by inverting the power matrix, making it more
compatible with the coupling’s output. As a result, the power of the phasers
would-”
“Almost double,” the engineer concluded, a broad smile spreading across
her face. “It’s worth a try. Harry, you and I will continue working on the
engines. Jemison, can you handle the weapons?
Hannah’s eyes twinkled. “It’s a pretty tall order, but I’ll do my
best. They should be ready within the hour.”

Forty more minutes passed before B’Elanna left her console and crossed
over to where the scientist sat. “Engines are ready. How are the phasers
coming?”
“Faster than I expected. The relays had been replaced with newer
versions, which were designed with similar upgrades in mind. Give me five
more minutes.”
“Good. Torres to the Captain.”
“Go ahead.”
“Captain, we should have engines and weapons within the next few
minutes, as well as a small surprise.”
Janeway shot her first officer a puzzled look before wearily drawing
her fingers across her brow. “I don’t need anymore surprises right now,
B’Elanna. Just tell me what you’ve done.”
“Well, it was Lt. Jemison’s idea, actually. We’ve modified the
phaser’s primary relays in order to get them back on-line quicker. The
surprise is that the modifications should give us an edge in a firefight.”
“You what?” The Captain sat forward.
“In principle, it’s similar to what is in the USS Defiant, Captain,”
Hannah responded. “And it should definitely be a surprise to the Kazon.”
Janeway took a deep breath, glancing quickly at Chakotay. His face
wore an increasingly familiar do-we-have-a-choice expression. “Very well.
I hope you two are right. We don’t exactly have a chance to test this little
improvement of yours.”
Without warning, the ship rocked as an explosion detonated off to port.
“What the hell was that?” The Captain swore, leaping to her feet.
Tuvok checked the sensor panel behind him. “It would appear, Captain,
that the Kazon have grown tired of waiting and are firing blindly into the
nebula. I believe they are trying to `flush us out’.”
A sly smile dallied on his commanding officer’s lips. “So, they want
us out, eh? Janeway to Torres. B’Elanna, two questions. Do we have engines
and weapons ready, and if so, once we clear the nebula can we go to warp?”
“Yes, Captain. To both questions.”
“Good work.” The Captain took the two steps down to conn and placed a
confidant hand on her pilot’s shoulder. “Mr. Paris, lay in a course, one-
seven-one mark two-three-eight, and prepare to initialize at warp eight on my
command.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Janeway turned back to the rest of the bridge. “Shields up. Red
alert. Mr. Tuvok, prepare to make use of our new phasers. All right,
Mr. Paris, take us out of here. Full impulse. Engage.”
“Captain, we are approaching the edge of the nebula,” Tuvok reported.
“The Kazon vessel has achieved a weapons’ lock on us, and they are firing.”
The ship shuddered.
“Minimal damage,” Kim shouted. “Shields are holding.”
“Return fire.” The Captain’s upper lip curled back slightly, baring
her teeth.
“Direct hit. Their shields have dropped to sixty percent.” The Vulcan
sounded almost pleased. “It would appear that Lt. Jemison’s improvement is
successful.”
Sparks flew from a nearby console as the ship shook beneath their feet.
“Firing phasers again.” The security chief announced. “Their shields
have dropped to twenty percent of maximum, and they have lost their weapons’
lock on us. The next shot will disable them, Captain.”
“Cease fire. Mr. Paris, let’s not hang around here any longer. Engage
warp engines.”
As the ship jumped forward, Janeway eased herself back into her seat.
“Janeway to engineering.”
“Torres here, Captain.”
“It would appear that Lt. Jemison’s modifications met with success.
My congratulations to all three of you. The entire crew owes you a debt of
gratitude.”
B’Elanna glanced at Hannah and Harry, huge grins of relief breaking out
simutaneously across all their faces. “Thank you, Captain. The rest of the
systems should be coming on-line in another three hours barring any further
Kazon encounters.”
“Good enough,” came the reply. “Janeway out.”

Chakotay sat on the floor of his quarters and waved his hands over the
contents of his medicine bundle, feeling their sacred power tingle in his
fingers. It was 0200 hours. The ship’s crisis had passed for the moment, but
his own personal one still weighed heavily upon him. His right hand came to
rest hovering above the dark grey river stone. Carefully, he picked it up,
respecting its water-washed smoothness broken by the carved design. Slowly, he
closed his eyes.
“Akoo-cheemoya. At this time of great upheaval, my spirit is disturbed
and wanders without purpose. I ask to speak to my guide, so that I may
discover the way back to my true path and face whatever comes with renewed
strength.”

It was autumn in the forest, and the crisp air made his spirit
tingle. Leaves crunched softly beneath his feet as he walked along.
The sound of strong wings beating the air caused him to look up. He
couldn’t see anything, but a hoarse caw told him it was a crow.
Shaking his head, he pressed on; his guide could not be far away, of
that he was sure. She was out there, somewhere, waiting patiently.
She could afford to wait; time moved differently for her; for him, this
time was all too fleeting.
In a small clearing, she rested, contentedly chewing on a
portion of fresh kill. As he approached, she looked up only briefly
before returning to her dinner, her greyed muzzle darkened by blood.
Choosing a fallen log for a seat, he addressed her from a
respectful distance. “Ohitika, I need your guidance. I thought I had
found my path, but it has vanished beneath my feet, tall grasses
growing over what once was clearly marked. I am drifting now; I do not
know which way to turn.”
The wolf continued to gnaw on the carcass’ leg, glancing up now
and again in mild curiosity. Above them, the crow circled and then
landed on the branch of a tall pine.
He went on. “I trusted her, the minimi, but she, too, has
proven false. My heart is heavy and every beat is an effort. Ohitika,
I need your help.”
The raven cawed loudly, gliding gracefully down to perch on the
kill’s partially exposed ribcage. The wolf growled, but did not
attack. Hungrily, the bird pulled off a few strips of meat and flew
away.
Almost immediately, it returned dropping something between the
wolf and himself, before vanishing back into the trees. Yawning, the
wolf stretched her way to her feet and like the bird, disappeared into
the forest.
Hesitantly, he rose, creeping forward to pick up the object, a
small, smooth river stone in the shape of a heart. “A heart of
stone?” he muttered, turning the rock over in his right hand.
“It is your choice, Chakotay,” came the familiar unspoken
voice. “Which hand gives you hope? The right? Or the left?”

In a flash of light, the first officer found himself back in his
quarters with much to consider.

Two weeks had passed since their harsh words, and Hannah had
purposefully kept herself out of his sight. She had even had Gerron deliver
the weekly reports, somehow always managing to busy herself with an experiment
during her usual delivery time. At first, Chakotay had been grateful for this
silence. It had given them both time to think. However, the time for quiet
consideration had ended; if either of them was to mend, words would have to be
spoken.
He found her alone in the lab, skipping the early dinner that they had
once shared. “Lieutenant, I’ve been meaning to congratulate you. Your work
during the ship’s latest crisis was exemplary.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Jemison glanced up quickly before returning
to her work.
“Hannah.” The voice was soft, almost pleading. “I would also like
to speak with you privately for a moment.”
The light pen, which had been dutifully recording observations froze.
“I’m afraid I’m on duty right now, sir. I believe it was you who said the time
for talking had passed.”
Stung by his own angry words, the older man paused. “I know what I
said. I was wrong. I’ve been wrong about a number of things recently,
especially you, Minimi.”
At the sound of the name he had given her, Hannah raised her eyes
making no attempt to hide the pain she felt. “Chakotay, please. I don’t wish
to discuss this. Not now, not ever. You were right. As SI, I have no
business fraternizing with you; I should not get close to you. I did for a
while and I was wrong. I betrayed you; I betrayed Star Fleet; and I betrayed
myself. I made my career choice years ago. It is a decision I must now
live with.”
“Hannah.” A tanned hand closed over hers, nimble fingers forcing her
to relinquish the pen. “A few years ago, I made a decision, too. I turned
my back on Star Fleet and took up the cause of the Maquis. It was a decision
that has brought me both pride and regret. Out here, though, we are faced with
a whole new set of circumstances, which we can confront either separately or
together. I would prefer we face them together, as fellow officers and
friends. I think you would, too.”
Lowering her eyes, the young woman found herself torn between the cold
safety of the lab and the warmth of the flesh surrounding her hand. Both were
equally real; both were a part of her; but only one gave her the strength to
brave the future. “And what happens if we get back home?”
“You will do your duty and turn me over to the authorities. I cannot
ask you to do otherwise; to do so would be wrong. Hannah, look at me.” He
patiently lifted the grey gaze to his own. “Seska has cast a long shadow over
my life; her ultimate revenge would be for my wounded vanity to keep us at
odds. You are not like her, Minimi. I know this.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I have watched you. You have put you own safety at risk to
save this ship; you have sacrificed every friendship you had forged to insure
this crew’s survival. You are loyal and dedicated, not to your Intelligence
agenda, but to this ship. From a crewmember, I could not ask for more; neither
can I from a friend.”
His finger traced the curve of her jaw regretfully. “We’ll never
recapture what we had, Hannah. You and I both know that, but I don’t want
to lose your friendship, as well. It brings me hope, and I need that.
We all do.”
“Chakotay, I-”
“Think about what I said, Lieutenant,” he intoned quietly. “You don’t
have to give me, or yourself, an answer yet; just know that whenever you are
ready to renew our friendship, I will be ready, too.” Releasing her hand, the
Commander cleared his throat. “However, perhaps you should get back to your
work for the present.”
“Yes sir.” With a pounding heart, Hannah watched the first officer
leave the room.

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From: crime@bu.edu (mary self)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: VOY: Apperception
Date: 21 Oct 1995 13:20:34 GMT
Organization: Boston University
Lines: 254
Message-ID: <46as32$sb0@news.bu.edu>
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DISCLAIMERS: All characters, except that of Sarkan and Lt. Hannah Jemison,
belong to Paramount. The story and the two aforementioned
characters are my creation.

Apperception
part I

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1995

First Officer’s Log. Stardate 50632.46. Having completed our mission
to the Calera system, we are enroute for our scheduled meeting with Voyager.
Lt. Hannah Jemison and I have spent an educational three days with the
Ummelians. We found them to be a very warm and generous people, quite
agriculturally advanced. They have given us several different plant specimens
for our garden, including one which produces a seed remarkably similar to
coffee beans. Something I’m sure the Captain will appreciate.

Chakotay looked up from his PADD and reached for another piece of
mecana roll. “Want some?” he offered to the young woman beside him.
She grimaced and rolled her eyes. “No, thank you. I don’t think I
could eat another bite of food as long as I live. I’m stuffed.”
“Funny, you wouldn’t have known it by the way you pounded down the pila
eggs at breakfast, and the toasted ticci, and the fris berries, and the-”
“Enough, already. I can’t help it. I’ve always enjoyed big, fresh
breakfasts. Anytime, Dad had the day off, Mom would get up early and create
these huge feasts, with pancakes, sausage, bacon, juice, and anything else you
could want. It became a family tradition until Chandler left for the Academy
and took his enormous appetite with him. Besides, you seemed to be enjoying
yourself, as well. Tasting just about every vegetarian dish put before you as
I recall.”
“Guilty,” he grinned. “At least, I saved room for each new dish;
moderation is the key to a healthy body and spirit, Lieutenant,” he chided,
teasingly.
“Permission to speak freely, Commander.”
“Granted.”
“Shut up.” Her grey eyes danced in puckish amusement.
Chakotay laughed. They had managed to forge a good working
relationship, in spite fo the strong emotional undercurrents that ran between
them. Hannah was a strong, intelligent woman, in many ways a younger version
of the Captain. If they ever got back to the Alpha quadrant, there was every
reason to believe that someday she would make Captain. She and two other
officers had already begun command training under the tutelage of both himself
and Captain Janeway. He watched her punch out calculations on her PADD.
“Studying?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Her brow furrowed and the well-shaped mouth tightened into
a taunt line.
“Problem? Here, let me see if I can help.” He reached for the hand-
held processor.
She shook her head and moved the device out of his reach. “No, that’s
okay. I can figure it out on my own. Thanks anyway, though.”
He chuckled. “You’re nothing if not stubborn, Jemison; I’ll give you
that. C’mon, I promise I’ll only tell you where you made your mistake.”
Reluctantly, she passed the PADD to him; Chakotay gazed at it for a
minute before handing it back. “Start over,” he suggested. “Your mistake
occurred early on in the problem. I’m surprised you got as far as you did.”
He looked at her discouraged expression. “Hey, you aren’t giving up, are you?”
“Not a chance,” she answered proudly. “I’ll get that promotion, yet;
you just watch.”
“Oh, I am, Lieutenant.”
One of her eyebrows lifted. “Really? Why, Commander, I’m flattered.”
Chakotay felt his cheeks flush; he had fallen head first into that
trap. *Paetah!* he cursed silently.
She giggled at his obvious discomfort. Over the past few months, they
had learned to hide their true feelings behind a friendly, ongoing battle of
wits. “Sorry, but you just left yourself so open that I couldn’t resist.”
“Oh really?” The first officer leaned over and gazed deeply into her
eyes. Now it was his turn. “And just what else can’t you resist?”
His eyes were as dark as Adalian tar pits and seemed to suck her in
just as effectively. “I -ah,” she struggled to find a retort, only to have her
thoughts interrupted by a warning signal on the console. Grateful, she tore
her attention away from him. “We are picking up a distress call, bearing four-
five mark one-two-eight.”
“Adjusting course to investigate,” Chakotay cheerfully replied,
confident in his most recent victory.

“We’ve reached the coordinates,” he announced, one hour later.
“Reducing speed to one-half impulse.” Empty space lay before them. Chakotay
frowned. “Lieutenant, are sensors still picking up the distress call?”
“Negative, and I’m not reading any ships or debris, either.”
“Are we at the right coordinates?”
“Yes sir. I’ve already double checked them.”
“Then, where the hell-” His response was cut short at the tiny ship
shuddered around them.
“Warning. Tractor beam engaged. Impulse engines will overload in
thirty seconds,” the computer advised.
“A Kazon ship has decloaked directly behind us. They are trying to
pull us in,” Hannah reported.
Almost in response to her statement, the viewscreen flickered revealing
a craggy, sinister-looking face. “Federation ship, I am Sarkan, second maje of
the Kazon Nistrim. Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded. Or we
will destroy your ship.”
“What do you want? Why have you-” The screen went blank before
Chakotay could finish his questions. “Shut down the engines, Lieutenant.
We evidently don’t have too many options open to us. I’m trying to get out a
subspace message to Voyager.”
“Yes sir. Impulse engines are off-line.” Hannah shot him a worried
glance.
He reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry.
We’ll be all right. Voyager will find us.”
They felt the ship tremble beneath them as the docking clamps took
hold. Spinning around, they were greeted by the sight of four well-armed
Kazons coming through the rear hatch. Two of the four seized them roughly by
the arms, hauling them to their feet and shoving them out into the corridor.
Chakotay caught Hannah in his arms to keep her form falling; her face was a
mask of confusion and fear. He grimaced. *She’s not prepared for this; she’s
science, not security. Starfleet probably only gave her the basic imprisonment
course,* he thought with alarm. * She has no idea what we may be up against.*
“Come on. Move.” One of the Kazons grabbed both of their shoulders
and pushed them down the hall.
As they were marched along, Hannah heard the calming voice of her
brother, Chandler telling her what to do. She began noting what she could
about the ship. The details of the corridor, the sound of the engines, the
location of conduits and power junctions. By Starfleet standards, it was
remarkably crude; no thought had been given to making its surroundings
comfortable or pleasant. *This may work to our benefit,* she mused.
*Junctions and access areas are clearly visible and seemingly not protected by
security devices. Evidently, they don’t make a habit of keeping prisoners on
board for extended periods of time.*
They entered a lift device which brought them to a holding area.
Chakotay turned on their guards. “Why have you brought us here? Why are
you detaining us?”
“Silence!” one of the guards roared, sending a rifle butt into the
Commander’s midsection.
The first officer doubled over, and Hannah reached forward to help
him, but he waived her off.
Four hands seized their shoulders from behind and pushed them both
toward the ground. “Kneel!” came the forceful command.
“So these are two of the mighty Federation I have heard so much about.”
Contempt poured from Sarkan’s mouth as he entered the room followed by two
other figures, who remained in the shadows. The Kazon leader laughed cruelly.
“I fail to see what these two could possibly offer.”
“It isn’t them; it’s their ship.” A female voice declared from over
his shoulder. “It should contain a replicator which we can modify to our
specifications.” The figure moved into the light. “However, your capture,
Chakotay, is an unexpected bonus.”
“Seska!” he hissed. “I should have known.”
The Cardassian infiltrator laughed harshly. “Yes, Chakotay, you should
have. Surely, you didn’t think I was willing to leave things as they were?”
Hannah felt her entire body tense with rage at the other woman. An
unsavoury epithet from ancient Earth passed through her mind and lingered
unspoken on her lips.
“You may as well let us go.” She heard the Commander reply. “Tuvok
had the replicators removed from the shuttles months ago, just in case one
should fall into the wrong hands. You won’t find anything onboard that will
help you.”
“What!” Sarkan backhanded the first officer across the face.
Chakotay slowly swung his face back around, a patch of red rising
quickly on his cheek. A small trickle of blood flowed from the corner of his
mouth. “It’s true.” He defiantly spat his blood onto the floor in front
of Sarkan.
Two more Kazons entered the room. “Well?” their leader barked.
“Maje, we see no sign of a replicator. There is only an empty space
where Seska told us to look.”
Furious, Sarkan spun on Seska. “Well, now, this has all been for
nothing.” He turned back to the four guards. “Take them away and kill them;
then salvage what you can from their ship before releasing it. It is of little
use to us now.”
“You act far too hastily, Sarkan. These two may yet prove to be of
value. What price do you think Capt. Janeway would pay to save members of her
crew?”
A slow malicious grin spread across the Kazon’s face. “Perhaps you are
right. Lock them up. We will deal with them presently. Unless, of course,
you have other plans.”
Seska returned his smile with one equally cruel. “Remove the girl.
We’ll keep her in reserve. The Commander and I still have some old issues to
settle.”
Hannah felt two hand pull her roughly to her feet and drag her toward
the lift. She saw Chakotay make a move to stop them and receive a harder blow
across the face for his efforts. *Don’t let them see you care for him.*
Chandler’s voice commanded. *They’ll use it as a weapon.* She made a
conscious attempt to make her expression go blank, as the lift began to move.
A brief wave of relief washed over Chakotay. *Perhaps she will be all
right, after all,* he thought. He looked up at Seska’s expressionless features
contrasting with the virulent hatred in her eyes. *She knows too much about
me. She could break me, but I can’t let that happen, and I can’t let her find
out about Hannah.*
“Take him to the questioning cell.” The Cardassian barked. “I’ll deal
with him personally.”

As she was marched to the holding cell, Hannah tried to continue her
mental notations of the ship, but found her thoughts drifting back with concern
to Chakotay. She knew a little about Cardassian torture methods from her
courses at Starfleet, and she didn’t want to find out about Kazon techniques.
A door on her right opened and a painful grip on her upper arm forced
her inside. She heard the door slide shut behind her, nervously looking
around before letting out an uncertain sigh of relief. She was alone in a
small dark room with no furniture, not even a bunk. The walls unlike the rest
of the ship were smooth metal sheets. She slid down one of the walls into a
crouch and began mentally mapping out the ship and its systems from what little
she had seen. It was better than just sitting around worrying, and it might
even allow her to help Chakotay.

The first officer felt himself slowly returning to consciousness. The
touch of the cold metal table against his skin told him that they had stripped
him of his uniform. *Standard torture procedure,* he thought grimly. *One
more way of stripping away a person’s defenses.*
The room was dark beyond the table; the only light coming from directly
above him. Cold manacles at his wrists and ankles held his arms and legs in
place, while two more metal straps crossed his chest and stomach. Raising his
head slightly, he could see small black tubes snaking their way from underneath
his skin to a main junction on the side of the table.
Somewhere to his right, a door opened and someone entered. He heard
footsteps approach, coming to a halt beside the table. Pale fingers ran
seductively up the side of his ribs. *Seska!* This was going beyond simple
torture he knew; for her, this was also personal, revenge for choosing Janeway
and Voyager over her. A soft hand caressed his cheek. He felt a wave of
revulsion wash over him and turned his head away.
“Chakotay,” her voice purred. “Time was when you wouldn’t pull away
from me. I can even remember when you used to like it when I touched you.”
She walked to the head of the table and ran her fingers through the greying
hair.
“That was before I discovered who you are and what you are,” he
replied, squinting up at her.
“Are Cardassians that repulsive to you?” she cooed.
“You know my feelings about that, especially after what you did. I
trusted you, Seska. I defended you.”
“Trust? Defense? Oh, don’t make me laugh, `Commander’.” She paused.
“You know, I really was fond of you, Chakotay. There was a time when I might
have even defied Central Command to stay with you. It’s a pity that things
have turned out the way they have.” Her voice grew cold and distant. “And I
want you to know I truly regret what I now have to do.”
He gasped as a bolt of pain ripped through his body, followed quickly
by another. Every muscle felt like it was on fire, slowly burning its way
through his flesh. *Coo-naayoo, please help me. I cannot let this person
break my spirit.*
“I truly am sorry,” he heard her say again.
“Then why . . . do it? Why- Aaah!” This time the intensity of the
pain left him breathless.
“Voyager has something we want; I’m afraid you and your companion are
nothing more than a means to get it. You see, Sarkan and I believe that the
standard threats will not be convincing enough for Capt. Janeway, but perhaps
she will feel differently upon viewing your condition after a few hours of
persuasion.” She pressed the control button for a fourth time.
Chakotay’s body leapt up from the table, straining against the shackles
before crashing back down. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared up
into the bright light. Hannah’s face flashed quickly through his mind. *No!
Don’t think of her! You can’t let them know; you can’t-* “Aaaugh!” Another
sudden but not unexpected convulsion seized him, ripping his mind from all
conscious thought.

Apperception
part 2

Kathryn Janeway crossed and uncrossed her legs. The shuttle carrying
her first officer and science officer was two hours late. “Mr. Tuvok, any sign
of the shuttle on long range sensors?”
“Negative, Captain. A scan for its warp signature has likewise proved
ineffective.”
“Ensign Kim, contact the Ummelians; make sure that they’ve left.
Mr. Paris, I want you to plot the most likely course that the shuttle
would’ve taken.”
“Yes, Captain. I should have it in a few minutes.” Lt. Tom Paris
swung back to the helm console and began furiously punching up calculations.
Janeway paced the bridge nervously. *What could have happened? They
are both well-disciplined members of my crew; had they decided to extend their
stay, they would have notified us.*
“Captain, message coming in form the Ummelians,” Harry Kim called
from his station.
“On screen.”
“Captain, what a pleasant surprise. I hope you are enjoying the
botanical samples we gave to Commander Chakotay and Lt. Jemison. I can’t tell
you how much we appreciated her help in repairing our agri-growth enhancer.”
Noting the Captain’s less than cheerful countenance, the Ummelian’s beaming
face began to sober. “Captain, is there a problem?”
“I’m afraid so, Councilman. The shuttle carrying my two crewmen has
failed to arrive at our pre-arranged coordinates. When exactly did they leave
your planet?”
“Over eight hours ago, Captain. I do hope that nothing serious
has happened; perhaps, they just had some engine trouble.”
“Perhaps,” Janeway conceded, unconvinced. “Councilman, should they
contact you, could you tell them we are on your way to your world?”
“Certainly, Captain. I wish you success in your search; they are both
fine officers.”
“Yes, they are, and thank you. Janeway out. Lt. Paris, have you
plotted their most plausible course?”
“Yes, Captain. Course is plotted and laid in.”
“Good. Mr. Kim, Mr. Tuvok, I want all sensors maintaining a constant
scan for any trace of the shuttle or its warp signature. Warp 7, Mr. Paris.
Engage.”

“Chakotay.” A faint, far off voice was calling him. “Chakotay.”
For a split second, he thought it was *her*. With a great deal of effort, he
opened his eyes; the light above the table blinded him. Pain wracked his
entire body, and he found it hard to maintain consciousness.
“Chakotay, can you hear me?” Seska bent down close to his head.
The dark eyes moved slowly in her direction, providing the answer she wanted.
“Good. I think its time we had a little talk. So much has happened since we
last saw one another.”
He gazed at her unsteadily, not even sure if he could speak. *I . . .
can’t. . . let. . . her-* His mind drifted off unable to complete its thought.
*No! You’ve got to keep control. You can’t let her in.*
“Are you thirsty? Would you like some water, perhaps?” She gently
lifted his head and poured a few drops onto his closed mouth. “It’s only
water, Chakotay. You need it. Now, drink.”
Too weak to protest, he parted his lips and let the cool liquid flow
over them. “Uh,” he croaked, as she lowered his head back down.
“I’ll take that as a thank you,” she replied. “So how have you been
doing on Voyager? Janeway must trust you more by now, but I doubt that you’ve
found anyone who can make mushroom soup like I could. Or have you?” Seska
softly traced the tatoo over his eye with one of her fingers. “Is there some-
one special in your life, Chakotay? Someone you share your thoughts and dreams
with; someone on Voyager who misses you as much as I miss you?”
He stared up into the tawney eyes and swallowed hard. “No,” he rasped.
“There is no one.”
She smiled disbelievingly. “No one at all? What about that young
Lieutenant you’re traveling with? She’s quite attractive.”
He tried to shake his head, closing his eyes in agony as his brain
sloshed against the side of his skull. “No one,” he repeated weakly. The
darkness was closing in again, and his consciousness was sliding toward it.
*Oh, help me. Don’t let me betray Hannah.*
Seska started to ask another question, but abruptly shut her mouth.
“Very well; as you say, Chakotay. Now, rest while you can. We will begin
again in a few minutes.”

“Captain,” Kim sung out. “I’ve got something.”
“All stop, Mr. Paris.” Janeway leapt to her feet and hurried to the
young ensign’s side.
“It’s definitely a residual trace of a warp engine, and it matches all
the characteristics of Starfleet shuttle emissions,” he continued. “It
appears that it was on this course, and then for some unknown reason it changes
to bearings four-five mark one-two-eight.”
“Why?” Janeway directed her question to no one in particular. “Why
would they suddenly change course like that?”
“Perhaps they were trying to avoid something,” Kim proposed.
“Maybe, but what?”
“Another ship?” Paris suggested, spinning around from the conn.
“Unlikely,” interjected Tuvok. “Sensors find no trace of the presence
of another ship.”
“Then what?” the conn officer asked.
“I don’t know,” the Captain answered truthfully. “Mr. Kim, can you
determine how long it has been since they made their course change?”
“Affirmative, Captain. The rate of signature decay indicates that they
altered course between four and six hours ago.”
“Good. Lt. Paris, bring us to our new heading; warp 6.”

“Captain, I have picked up the shuttle on long range sensors. It
appears to be undamaged.” The Vulcan paused. “However, there is no indication
of lifeforms on board.”
“Full stop. Tractor the shuttle on board.” Janeway jumped to her feet
and headed for the turbolift. “Lt. Torres, meet me in the shuttle bay.
Mr. Tuvok, you have the bridge.”
“Captain.” Her chief of security halted her rapid exit. “I am picking
up another ship’s engine signature. Bearing one-two-nine mark three-six.
I regret to inform you that it matches the known pattern of vessels belonging
to the Kazon.”
“Kazon! Alter course, Mr. Paris. We’re going to follow that trail.
I’ll be down in the shuttle bay.”

Chakotay lay panting on the table. He had long ago given up trying to
think. Even little things he took for granted, like breathing, seemed
secondary to the pain which now constantly coursed through his body, varying
only in its intensity. In between the greater bouts of convulsive agony, he
had tried to summon his spirit guide and failed; each time he came close and
saw the beautiful grey fur, a blinding flash would rip the vision from his
grasp. The one source of refuge he could allow himself, Seska had kept
successfully at bay.
He heard her say something, but was unable to focus on the words. He
hadn’t even been aware that someone had entered the room. His head had rolled
to his right during the last spasm, and he tried in vain to open his eyes, but
the strength to do so had long since left him.
A vision of his home appeared before him. He was sitting on the hill
overlooking his village during a summer sunset. His dog, Tikal, lay beside
him, its head on his knee. A light breeze blew through the trees, stirring the
leaves and grasses around him. Someone was coming up the hill toward him; she
wore a long navy tunic and khaki paints. Her brown hair hung freely, whipping
gently across her smiling face.
“I’ve always wanted to show you my home,” he told the vision. “I knew
you would like it. I- No!” He watched in horror as the images began to fade,
replaced by lightning bolts and multi-hued explosions. When they subsided,
through some dim awareness, he realized how close he had come to calling out
the vision’s name. He couldn’t let it happen again. So ironic, that even now
in this hell where he most needed her, she remained out of reach.

Sarkan looked at the pale, sweating form lying before him; its breath
coming in jagged gasps. He nodded to Seska who once again activated the table.
Critically watching the seizure of pain which consumed the human, the maje
nodded once again, this time in satisfaction. “You have done well, Seska. I
believe it is time to contact his ship.”
“I agree. I will stay here to provide the necessary inducement when
needed.”
The Kazon directed one more glance at the barely conscious human.
*I hope for your sake that your Captain is easily persuaded, Federation. It
would be a shame for you to die for no reason.*

“Captain,” Paris called from the conn. I’m reading a Kazon vessel
directly in front of us.”
“All stop. Red alert. Raise shields.” Janeway sprang to her feet,
her hands flying to her hips.
“Captain, we are being hailed.” Kim’s announcement revealed only the
tiniest tremor of concern.
“On screen.”
“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Federation Captain Janeway?”
The placid, ridged face failed to belie the contempt in the voice.
“You do.”
“I am Sarkan, second maje of the Kazon Nistrim, and I believe we each
have something the other wants. I have your two crewmen and you have
replicators. I propose an exchange, one for the other.”
The Captain’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t make deals for hostages.”
“Really, Captain? That is most unfortunate. Perhaps you should
consult with your first officer before coming to such a conclusion.”
At the maje’s signal, inhuman howls of pain resounded throughout the
ship’s communications matrix, slicing through Janeway and the rest of the
bridge crew. “Chakotay,” she whispered, her delicate fingers curling into two
tight fists. “What have you done to him?”
“I? I have done nothing to him; that pleasure belongs entirely to a
colleague of mine. However, I do not know how much longer he can withstand her
persuasive methods. Again, their lives for one replicator. You have two hours
to make your decision.”
Janeway stared for a moment at the blank viewscreen. Then, she turned
and strode quickly toward her ready room. “Mr. Tuvok, I need to speak with
you. Mr. Paris, you have the bridge.”
Once inside with the door safely shut behind them, she sank into her
chair. “Oh, Tuvok, what do I do?”
The Vulcan remained standing. “It is quite clear what you cannot do,
Captain. To give into Sarkan’s demands would not only irrevocably change the
balance of power within the quadrant, but also leave us vulnerable to attacks
by any others who may desire something we possess.”
“On the other hand, if I let Chakotay die, our Maquis crewmen may view
me as perfidious, someone who willingly sacrificed their commander for some
obscure principle they do not normally live by. I’m not even sure I can live
with that memory myself.”
Tuvok levelled his gaze at her. “It has been my observation that both
Commander Chakotay and Lt. Jemison share a mutual respect for you. I do not
believe they would expect or wish for you to concede to the Kazon’s demands.
They would understand that there is more than just their lives at stake here.”
Janeway gave a rueful grimace. “You’re right as usual, Tuvok.
However, we must make every attempt possible to get them out of there. Begin
a full evaluation of their weapons and defensive capabilities. I do not intend
to sit idly by while two of my crewmen sacrifice their lives.”
“I shall prepare the report with all possible speed.” With a slight
bow, the Vulcan turned and left the room, leaving Janeway alone with her
apprehensive thoughts.

Hannah raised her head as the door slid open. A naked, bleeding body
was tossed onto the hard floor before it shut. “Commander!” She quickly
crawled over to where the inert form lay. After checking his pulse, she rolled
him onto his back as gently as she could. The soft whimper he emitted when she
did this tore at her heart.
Dragging over the small container of water the guards had brought her
earlier, she undid her uniform and removed her turtleneck. On his face was a
caked mixture of blood, sweat and saliva. She dipped the end of one sleeve in
the water and began slowly bathing the pale skin. Raw, bleeding tissue showed
where he had struggled helplessly against the bonds which had held him.
Gingerly, she lifted first his right arm, then his left, up towards her and
bathed the injured areas around each wrist. A small moan escaped, as he slowly
fought his way back to consciousness. She looked up into a pair of dull, dark
pools, so different from the playful, teasing eyes of several hours ago.
Running her hand delicately through his hair, she tried her best to
comfort him. “It’s all right, Chakotay. They’ve brought you back to the
holding cell. You’re safe right now; try to rest. Here, drink some water.”
She raised his head to the container, and he took two painful swallows.
“Hannah, I won’t-” His voice was barely audible.
“Shhh, don’t try to talk. Rest.”
He tried to nod and obediently closed his eyes. Stretching out beside
him, she covered his chest with the dry portion of her turtleneck, and wrapped
her arms protectively around his head.
She still smelt faintly of the rose oil the Ummellians had given her
for her bath that morning, and he could hear her heart beating through the
fabric of her uniform; two more concrete affirmations of the reality he knew
was rapidly slipping out of his grasp. *I won’t betray you,* he promised her
silently as an exhausted sleep overtook him.

The sun was setting over the horizon, and Tikal’s head was still on his
knee. She sat beside him, her legs curled to one side, her chin resting on his
shoulder. Neither spoke; their souls drinking in the natural beauty of the
moment. He patted Tikal’s head and received a lick of acknowledgement. Her
hair tickled the back of his neck as it danced in the breeze. He couldn’t
remember the last time he had felt so completely at peace with everything and
everyone. “Do you have any idea how happy I am?” He turned to look at her,
but she was gone.
“Wha?” Confused, his eyes roamed around the dimly-lit cell. “No!” He
tried to raised up, but the muscles wouldn’t obey, and he crashed back
painfully onto the floor. “Hannah!” The cry was little more than a hoarse
whisper. *Coo-naayoo, please, protect her,* he prayed as darkness fell once
again.

The door to the ready room chirped it familiar greeting. Janeway
looked up. “Come in. Lt. Torres, I hope you have good news; I could use some
right now.”
The half-Klingon shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “In regards to the
Kazon’s defensive systems, I’m afraid not. However, I’ve been talking with
some of the other Maquis on board, and we believe that you shouldn’t give into
the Kazon’s demands, even if it means losing Commander Chakotay. He wouldn’t
want you to do it, no matter what the price, and well, I thought you might like
to know that we support you whatever happens.”
Kathryn regarded the younger woman silently. They really were `her’
crew now, voluntarily giving their allegiance to her. A lump rose in her
throat, which she hastily cleared. “Thank you, B’Elanna. Your loyalty means
a lot to me. I do not want to lose the Commander and Lt. Jemison, but I can
not give into the Kazon’s demands. Besides which, considering our past
encounters with both the Nistrim and Ogla, I am not inclined to believe that
they would honor their promise to free them, even if we did surrender a
replicator.
Lt. Torres nodded. “I agree, Captain. We can’t trust them, but we
will get the Commander and the Lieutenant back.”
Janeway smiled at the young woman’s determination. “We sure as hell
are going to try our best, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”

Hannah crashed to the floor clutching her side where the metal rod
had landed its painful blow.
“Get up, Federation,” barked the Kazon. “Don’t tell me you’ve had
enough already.”
Taking as deep a breath as her aching ribs would allow, she rose slowly
to her feet and spat out a mixture of blood and saliva. Her cheek was already
starting to swell, blood still seeping from the cut inside her mouth.
The Kazon laughed harshly. “Have you no courage, no fight within you,
female? Bah! It is only your technology which makes you powerful. You hide
your cowardice behind your weapons. Here, I will give you the opportunity to
strike at me.” He threw down his weapon.
Hannah eyed him warily. She could still put up a good fight, but where
would that get her? The other two Kazons in the room would prevent her escape.
She had to save what strength she had; she had to wait for the right moment.
From what little conversation she had heard, she knew Voyager was out there,
now, within transporter range; all she needed was the opportunity to get the
sheilds down.
The Kazon picked up the pole and swung at her again. Somehow, she
managed to dodge the stroke, backing into the wall.
“Your Captain should be grateful to me for ending your life; there can
be no honor in having such a weakling in her crew,” the young man snarled,
swinging down at her.
This time she wasn’t so lucky; the blow caught her between the shoulder
and the neck. An audible crack resounded as her collarbone shattered. For the
first time, she let out a scream of pain, her left arm falling uselessly
against her side. Dropping to her knees, she doubled over in agony, tears
streaming down her battered face. Her right hand flew to her left shoulder.
“Enough, Kaymar. We do not wish to kill her yet.” Sarkan stepped out
of the shadows. “I believe these scenes will be enough to persuade the Captain
that we mean business. Take her back to the cell and transmit the fight with
my compliments to Voyager.”
Hannah cried out as one of the guards pulled her roughly to her feet
and drug her from the room. Surreptiously, she checked the corridor as she was
hauled along; no one was around. Evidently, they had concluded she wasn’t much
of a threat. *Now’s my chance.*
“Ohhh!” She uttered a loud moan and forcibly slumped all of her weight
against the Kazon holding her up. They both crashed to the floor. Sending her
fist first into his stomach, she brought it down again against his jaw smashing
his head into the floor. She suspected the floor did more damage than her blow
had. *Damn!* Losing the use of one arm definitely made this twice as hard and
about four times more painful.
Disarming him, she staggered down the corridor to one of the main
junction boxes. Getting the cover off was difficult, but eventually it pulled
free. The technology appeared to have more in common with Cardassian
technology than that of the Federation, utilizing what appeared to be isolinear
rods for their data storage and processing. The fact that the markings were
totally unfamiliar only added to the challenge. “Needle in a bloody haystack,”
she muttered, gingerly removing one of the rods. “One of these must control
the shields. This is one of the larger access panels.”
“Hey! You!” The Kazon she had struck earlier lunged down the hall.
Hannah didn’t stop to think. She spun around and fired. The Kazon
sank to the floor. “Damn! A whole legion will be here now. Sorry Admiral,
but the time for subtlety just ran out.”
Stepping back, she aimed the weapon at the panel and fired. Sparks
exploded from the panel. The lights of the corridor flickered twice before
dying, leaving only emergency lights active. Over the comm system, a siren
blared, and running feet began heading her way. An explosion from one of the
lower decks rocked the ship. Grabbing for the wall, she flattened herself
behind the tentative safety of a doorjam, pointing her weapon in the direction
of the rapidly approaching steps.

Apperception
part 3

“Captain. Something’s happening on the Kazon ship. You’d better get
out here.” Ensign Kim’s voice urgently interrupted Kathryn’s thoughts.
Rising from behind her desk in the ready room, Janeway headed for the
door. “On my way.”
“Captain,” Tuvok acknowledged her entrance onto the bridge. “Sensors
have picked up a series of explosions coming from within the Kazon vessel.
They have lost power to most of their main systems, including their shields.”
“Can we get a lock on our two crewmen?”
“Affirmative. I am reading two human lifeforms approximately fifty
meters from each other. One is firing a weapon.”
“Deactivate the weapon and beam them both directly to sickbay.
Computer, activate emergency medical holographic program.”
“I am already on, Captain,” came the reply. “Kes and I are
standing by.”
“Lower shields and energize.”
“Transport is complete,” reported Kim.
“Raise shields. Hail the Kazon vessel.” Janeway ordered.
A smoky bridge appeared on the viewscreen. “I will have you know,
Captain,” Sarkan spat. “I have sent for reinforcements. This attack on our
ship will not go unanswered.”
“And I will have you know, Sarkan, that if you or one of your
colleagues ever kidnaps any of my people again, you will be met with the
deadliest force at my disposal. Janeway out. Mr. Paris, set us back on
course, warp 8. I want to put as much distance between us and the Kazons
as possible. Mr. Tuvok, you have the bridge; I’ll be in sickbay.” Barely
concealing her rage, she hurried up the steps to the turbolift.

“Report, Doctor.”
The hologram turned at the sound of the Captain’s voice. “Both
Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Jemison have recieved numerous internal
injuries, as well as the visible external wounds. The Lieutenant’s condition
is far less severe than the Commander’s. I suspect she was only beaten; the
Commander, however, had been exposed to extensive neural phasic torture.
Currently, he is unconscious.”
“But he will recover, won’t he?” Janeway was only dimly aware of the
desparate hope clinging to her question.
“I don’t know, Captain,” the hologram replied truthfully. “Physically,
I believe he will, but psychologically, he may not. I just can’t tell at
this point.”
“Let me know as soon as you can, Doctor.” A sound from the other bio-
bed made her turn. Kes was busy re-assuring Hannah that she was safe.
Janeway came up on the patient’s right side and smoothed back the
sweat-soaked hair. “It’s all right, Lieutenant. You’re on Voyager now; you’re
safe.”
Her presence seemed to give the mind behind the wide grey eyes
something to focus on. The tense muscles relaxed a little and concern replaced
fear in the young woman’s expression. “Yes ma’am.” Hannah croaked. “But the
Commander, they-” She tried to rise, but found that her own rapidly
diminishing strength and Janeway’s firm hand prevented her.
“The Doctor is taking care of him as we speak; beyond that I can’t tell
you anything,” Kathryn replied as calmly as she could; telling the young woman
the truth at this point hardly seemed wise. “Right now, you need to get your
own rest, and that’s an order, Lieutenant,” she added with a solicitous smile.
“Yes ma’am.” Hannah closed her eyes intending to keep an ear out for
what the Doctor was saying. Sleep proved to be too tempting, though, and she
quickly drifted off into a deep slumber.

“Ah, Lieutenant, you’re awake. Let’s see how you are doing.” The
Doctor’s cheerful demeanor seemed as always a bit incongruous considering the
circumstances. “Much better. Most of your wounds have healed nicely. You
should be able to leave sickbay tomorrow. Crewman Geron has already stopped by
twice to see how you were doing.”
“How long have I been asleep?” Everything still seemed a bit fuzzy and
otherworldly.
“Almost ten hours, and your body needed it all to recover.”
“The Commander. How’s he?” The events of the past two days were
beginning to fall back into place. She could remember what the Captain had
said and realized that Janeway had probably couched the real situation as best
she could without lying.
The Doctor looked reluctant to answer, but then, seemed to conclude
that she was strong enough to handle the truth. “I’m afraid he’s still
unconscious, Lieutenant. Although physically, his condition is improving.”
“I want to see him.” Hannah sat up too quickly and grimaced, grabbing
for her shoulder. Ignoring the soreness, she swung her legs over the side of
the bed and stood up.
“Lieutenant, you’ve suffered three broken ribs, a smashed clavicle and
numerous other bodily traumas. You should not be getting up yet.”
“You said I could leave tomorrow, Doctor, and I fail to see how a walk
of a few meters will alter that fact.”
Sighing heavily, the Doctor raised his eyes toward the ceiling as
Hannah moved slowly off in the direction of the surgical biobed. Sometimes he
wondered why the Captain even bothered to activate him; this crew never
followed his advice.
Chakotay’s skin had lost its pale grey tinge, and he seemed more at
peace than the last time she had seen him. Above his bed, Lt. Torres had
erected his medicine wheel, and the scientist gazed at it curiously.
The Doctor who had come up behind her, shook his head. “Once again,
she’s misplaced the coyote stone. It should go here.” He pulled off the stone
to re-align it.
“Let me,” Hannah said, taking the stone from the surprised hologram’s
hand. “Here?” He nodded. “Doctor, could I have a few moments alone with the
Commander?”
The physician raised an eyebrow. “Very well. I’ll be at my desk if
you need me.”
Hannah waited until he was out of earshot. “Chakotay, we made it;
we’re safe. Don’t give up now.” She gently stroked the greying hair. “Who
will I deliver my weekly reports to? The ship needs you. I need you.”
She stood quietly beside him for a few moments, holding his hand. There
was so much that she wanted to say, but where to begin? She brought his hand
up to her cheek. “Get well, Commander.” Bending down, she kissed his forehead
over the tattoo before returning to her own bed.

Sometime during the evening, Chakotay regained consciousness, his cries
waking Hannah from her sleep. Leaping from the bed, she hurried over as the
Doctor tried rather unsuccessfully to restrain his struggling patient. As she
stepped into view, the Indian’s violent thrashing stopped. “It’s all right,
Commander. We’re safe.” Hannah firmly pushed his shoulders back down.
“Han-”
“Shh, let the Doctor help you. I won’t go anywhere; I’ll stay right
here.” She took his hand and gave it a small squeeze.
A tired, contented smile broke across his face as he wearily closed
his eyes. He could rest now. *She’s safe.*

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” Hannah stepped briskly into the
Captain’s ready room. Three days had passed since she had left sickbay and
returned to duty.
“I did indeed, Lieutenant. I just finished going over your report; do
you intend to make sabotage part of your career with Starfleet? That was a
very risky thing you did. You had no idea what that phaser shot might have set
off; you could’ve destroyed the entire ship with yourself and the Commander
still on it.”
“I beg to differ, Captain; at the time, it was the only thing I could
do. The Kazons had made it quite plain that they had no intention of releasing
us even if you gave them the replicator. Furthermore, considering the size of
the vessel and what I was able to view of their technology, I was quite
convinced that such action would only serve to interrupt critical systems, not
destroy them. And, as we no longer had the shuttle at our disposal, lowering
shields for transport was the only logical move left. I would’ve consulted the
Commander about my plan of action, but as you well know, he was not available.
I’m sorry if you do not agree with my deeds, Captain, but from my perspective,
they boasted the best chance of success.” She had never once moved from
attention while Janeway circled around her.
“I see,” the Captain replied moving behind the desk to her seat. “I
also found your technological deductions to be remarkably specific; most
young officers, particularly those from science and medicine, would not be
inclined to make such accurate, detailed assessments while being held captive.
You, on the other hand, showed an amazing presence of mind. Can you explain
this?”
“My brother was in Starfleet Intelligence, Captain. He would often
share parts of his training with me; he thought the basic captivity training
given to most Academy graduates to be lacking in several areas. Considering my
recent experience, I would have to agree. Is there anything else you wish to
know, Captain?”
“Not at the moment, Lieutenant. Perhaps though, there is something
you might wish to tell me.” She regarded the young woman knowingly.
“Me?” For the first time, Hannah looked at her commanding officer,
an expression of guilty surprise on her face. “What could I possibly have to
tell you, Captain?”
Janeway sat forward in her seat resting both arms on the desk.
“I think, Lieutenant, you’ll find that like most Starfleet captains, I don’t
like spies aboard my ship, even those from Starfleet Intelligence. Maybe
you’ve told me the truth; maybe your brother was a concerned older sibling.
But this report of yours has all the earmarks of a watered-down intelligence
report. So I suggest you decide who you are, Lieutenant, my science officer or
a member of Starfleet Intelligence. I’ve got enough trouble out here as it is;
I don’t need some SI peering over my shoulder, recording and analyzing my every
action. Do I make myself clear?”
“Captain, I-”
“Is that clear, Lieutenant?”
Hannah drew herself up. “Yes, Captain. Quite clear.”
“Good. Dismissed”

Hannah’s fork picked idly at her food. When she had chosen her career
path in Starfleet, it had seemed to fit her so well, but now, out here,
surrounded by the very people she had been expected to arrest, her original
choice of science seemed preferable. And now Captain Janeway knew. Would she
tell Chakotay? Would he guess it on his own from her report?
She stared out the window. She didn’t want him to know. They were
friends and shared a deep affection for each other. The vivid memory of
cradling his battered body brought a mist to her eyes. *I can’t do it. He
means too much to me. First Tuvok, then Seska, now me; it will mean the end
of any friendship we have, and I don’t want that.*

The doors to the mess opened, and the waves of aromas that hit his
nostrils were interesting to say the least. Hard as it was to admit, he had
actually missed the atmosphere of Neelix’s informal restaurant. He had always
been a bad patient, and being cooped up for five days, first in sickbay and
then in his room, had almost driven him crazy. *Too bad Seska didn’t try
that,* he thought wryly. *I would’ve cracked immediately.* At least, his
confinement had given him time to complete his surprise for Hannah. He hadn’t
seen her much since she left sickbay. *Maintaining her usual discreet
distance,* he reflected.
She was sitting on the opposite side of the room, alone, staring out
at the stars. Acknowledging a few well-wishers, he quickly crossed the mess
and dropped into an empty seat opposite her. “Am I interrupting anything?”
Hannah jumped slightly as she was recalled from her thoughts. “Not at
all, Commander. I’d rather welcome the break.” The smile on her face was not
reflected in her eyes, which remained pensive and distant.
“I read your report, and I’d like to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving my life. Blowing out that panel certainly did the job.
Have you ever thought of joining the Maquis?” His dark eyes twinkled in
amusement.
“I really don’t think you would want me to do that, Commander.” Her
expression became abnormally grave.
He studied her curiously for a moment. “You’re right, Lieutenant,” he
finally responded. “I don’t think I would. Anyway, if you had a few minutes,
I was wondering if you would assist me with something.” His playful gaze
returned.
“May I ask what, Commander?”
He stood up and gestured toward the doors. “Come with me. You’ll see.”
“But-” Hannah found herself propelled out of the mess hall by her
elbow and to a nearby turbolift.
“Deck 6,” Chakotay requested, relinquishing his hold once the lift
doors shut.
“Deck 6? What’s this all about, Chakotay?” Crossing her arms over her
chest, Hannah regarded her superior suspiciously.
He grinned mysteriously. “You’ll see. C’mon.” He grabbed her arm and
led her out of the lift. “Computer, intiate program Chakotay four.”
“Program is running. You may enter when ready.”
The doors to the holodeck opened and Chakotay stepped aside to allow
Hannah to enter. With a small amount of apprehension, she stepped inside,
finding herself on a grassy hill overlooking a small village. The sun was
setting on the horizon colouring the sky with various shades of orange,
lavender and blue. Smoke curled out of the golden adobes below, while a gentle
wind stirred the leaves in the trees.
“When I was on the Kazon ship, this is where I came whenever I lost
consciousness. As a child, I used to come up here with my dog to think and
dream of a life among the stars. I always hoped that one day I would be able
to share it with my children.” He gave a gentle shrug. “I don’t know if that
will ever happen; some days out here it seems highly unlikely. Right now,
though, I wanted to share it with you. I wanted you to see what I had been
fighting for as a Maquis; why I gave up my commission with Starfleet.”
“Chakotay, it’s lovely. It reminds me of-”
“Shhh. Don’t say anything.” Releasing her hair from its regulation
bun, he let the wind flow through the dark brown waves. “Just sit down and
relax; listen to your senses. Let them speak to you.”
Obediently, Hannah lowered herself to the ground, wrapping her arms
loosely around her knees. He crouched beside her. “The program is set to run
thirty minutes, but you can extend it through nightfall, if you wish. I’ll
leave now so that you can enjoy it in private.”
Her hand caught his arm as he tried to rise. “No don’t go. Something
this special should be shared. Please stay.” If she were alone with her
pessimistic thoughts right now, the moment would be spoiled.
The desparate glow in her eyes made him relent; puzzled he sat down
beside her. Slowly, the Delta quadrant, the Kazons, even their own pasts
seemed to lose meaning within the computer-generated oasis. As they watched
the sun sink down, her head inclined upon his shoulder, his arm wrapping
securely around her shoulders. Neither spoke until the gold disk disappeared
over the horizon.
“Computer, continue program,” Hannah requested. It’s so beautiful,
Chakotay; I can understand why you would want to protect it. I would, too.”
He stared at her in surprise. “You mean that?”
She looked up into his face. “Yes, I do.”
The emotional honesty in her expression filled Chakotay’s soul with a
warmth he had not felt in quite a while; he knew words could not begin to
express what he felt in his heart. Placing his hand beneath her chin, he
tilted her face up towards him, his lips descending upon hers. “Minimi,” he
breathed softly.
Hannah opened her eyes, not quite believing what was happening.
“Minimi?” she repeated slowly.
He smiled. “It means `wonder’. I thought it would be an appropriate
name for you.”
An embarrassed giggle followed. “Next you’ll be introducing me to my
spirit guide,” she teased.
“Only if you want me to.”
“I do. Honestly. There’s so much I want to learn about you and your
heritage.” Her hand tenderly brushed his cheek. “Chakotay, I care for you
very deeply, and the past few days have taught me how precious our time
together may be. I don’t want to waste it.”
The black eyes scoured her face attentively. A year and a half ago,
they would not have been here together; two weeks ago, they wouldn’t have
allowed themselves to be together like this. Gently smiling, his lips brushed
her forehead. “Minimi,” he whispered thankfully.

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From: crime@bu.edu (mary self)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: VOY: As Starfleet Officers
Date: 29 Sep 1995 11:29:04 GMT
Organization: Boston University
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As always constructive criticism is welcome.

All characters in this story belong to Paramount, except Lt. Hannah Jemison,
and are use here for entertainment purposes only. The story is my creation
entirely.

For those of you unfamiliar with Hannah, she first appeared in a story I wrote
called Regrets.

As Starfleet Officers

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1995

In the darkened room, his hips jerked upward, her moist body engulfing
him with a deliberate hesitation. Her mouth traced the muscles of his neck
down to the shoulder, and he felt their hips begin to move in that familiar,
ancient rhythm. A cry of pain escaped his throat, as teeth sank into his skin
just below the collar bone. There would be a mark there for the next few days.
He wouldn’t bother to get it treated at sickbay; he wanted the mark, however
temporary it might be. Funny, he never would have guessed she was a “biter”.
Their movements grew stronger, desperate in their quest for fulfillment; her
breath panted warm in his ear, pushing him farther, faster . . .
Chakotay sat up in bed; his trembling body once again denied its dream-
induced pleasure. He raised a shaking hand to his head and brushed the beads
of moisture off his brow. Looking down at his chest, he half-expected to see
bloodied teeth marks on his brown skin.
The dreams were definitely getting worse; well, worse, in the sense
that he was having them more frequently. The dreams themselves were worthy of
the ship’s resident Romeo, Tom Paris. He allowed himself a momentary grin as
he disintwined the sheets from around his legs. Then a frown came to his face.
“This has got to stop, one way or another,” he muttered. “You’ve got to get
control of yourself.”

“Commander.”
Chakotay gave a sharp intake of breath; he hadn’t realized that his
attention had drifted so far away. Refocusing his gaze, he found himself
looking into his Captain’s worried gaze. “I’m sorry, Captain.” He apologized.
“I didn’t hear a word you said.”
“That was quite evident, Commander. I asked you if you would like
another cup of coffee.” Kathryn Janeway stared at her first officer. Deeply
concerned, she noted the circles under his eyes, which seemed to grow darker
with each passing day.
He gave her a tight smile. “I think I need one, don’t you?”
“It’s not my place to say what you need. But Commander,” she placed
a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Chakotay, if something is bothering you,
perhaps I can help.”
He shook his head; he wasn’t about to share his dream with her or
anyone else for that matter. “I just haven’t been sleeping well lately; I’m
not quite sure why,” he lied.
“Maybe you should visit sickbay; I’m sure the Doctor could prescribe
a sedative. Or I can schedule one or two days off for you. Gods know, you
deserve it after pulling two thirty-six hour shifts during the past month.”
She again caught the listless dark eyes in her gaze. “Sometimes you really do
push yourself too hard.”
Chakotay almost laughed at the choice of words, but stopped himself,
realizing that she would expect an explanation. Instead, he nodded in
agreement. “Yes, Captain. I’ll stop by sickbay after I get off this evening.
I promise,” he added, seeing her doubtful expression.

“Well, Commander,” the Doctor stared down at his tricorder. “According
to these readings, you are very healthy considering your stress level. All
the readings are quite normal, I’m pleased to say. There seems to be no
`physical’ reason for your sleepless nights.
“I do notice by your shift record, however, that you have been pulling
a number of double, even triple shifts over the past month or so. Both
Starfleet regulations and medicine frown upon such a work load; surely, the
Captain could find someone to fill in on some of these shifts.”
Chakotay nodded. “I just like to keep myself busy, Doctor. I’d go a
little stir-crazy if I didn’t have something to do.”
The Doctor frowned. “Commander, at the rate you’re working, you’ll go
`crazy’ from having too much to do. There are limits to the amount of pressure
the human body and mind can take.” Moving over to the dispenser, he continued.
“I’m issuing you a mild sedative. Take one tablet before going to bed, but for
your own health, I strongly urge you to cut back your workload. Socialize with
the rest of the crew; have some fun. And remember, Commander,” The Doctor
halted his patient’s rapid exit. “I may be a hologram, but I can still relieve
you of duty if I see fit.”
Chakotay’s jaw tightened visibly at the threat, but he gave the image
a curt nod of acknowledgement before heading back to his own
quarters.

The next day, after his shift ended, he took a long, circuitous
route back to his room. The sedative had helped last night, but he knew it
was only treating the symptoms, not the cause of his problems.
“Commander!” B’Elanna Torres increased her pace to catch up with the
quickly striding first officer.
“Yes, Lieutenant? What can I do for you?” He imperceptibly slowed
down, before turning his head toward the approaching engineer.
“A couple of us are getting together tonight at Sandrine’s, and I was
wondering if you’d like to join us. It’s sort of a teams pool tournament.
I need a partner, and since you’re one of the better players on the ship, I
was wondering if-” She paused; his expression told her that she had oversold
the idea. *The man isn’t a fool,* she scolded herself.
“All right, Lieutenant; I’ll bite. Who put you up to this?
The Captain? The Doctor, maybe?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her brown eyes darted from
his face to the wall behind him and back again. She always was a lousy liar.
“Come off it, Torres!” he yelled, and she blushed as passersby glanced
briefly in their direction.
“Commander,” she whispered, hoping he would get the hint. “Please.”
He did, but he ignored it. “All day, I’ve had people coming up to me,
asking me to lunch, to dinner, to play raquetball. Others have been inquiring
about my health; trying to play counselor with me; hell, Paris even offered to
set me up on a date, hologram or otherwise. Now this. Just what the hell is
going on?”
B’Elanna stared at him. Rarely, had she seen him so angry, especially
over mere solicitous inquiries. He was her commanding officer, her friend, and
she was worried about him. But she didn’t particularly relish being dressed
down in public like this.
“Permission to speak freely, Commander?” she replied icily.
“Granted.” Her deliberate use of protocol suddenly reminded him of
where they were.
“The only reason people have been bothering you today is because they
are concerned.” She shot back, her dark eyes snapping angrily. “You haven’t
been acting like yourself for several days now, and frankly, you’ve been
looking like death warmed over. So, instead of being angry at people, you
ought to be damned thankful they care enough to ask. And now if you’ll
excuse me.” She drew herself up stiffly. “I’m sorry to have bothered you,
Commander.”
She began to walk away, but he caught her arm. “No, B’Elanna.”
His voice was husky with fatigue. “You are absolutely right, and I owe you an
apology.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
She gazed at him; never had she seen him look so old or so tired. The
Captain had been right to confide in her; it was just too bad the entire crew
had also picked the same day to express its concern.
At last, he opened his eyes. “Okay, Lieutenant. You win. If you need
a partner at pool, I’ll be it.” He gave her a weary grin. “Although you may
be making a big mistake, considering how tired I am right now.”
She returned the smile. “I don’t think so. You could beat Paris with
one hand tied behind your back, and I happen to know that the Captain isn’t
playing tonight. So we stand a pretty good chance of winning if Paris and Kim
can eliminate Jemison and Dalby.”
*Damn!* He shook his head. “You’re reaching Torres. The day Paris
and Kim beat those two is the day we’ll all get home and be given full pardons
by the Federation.”
“Well, stranger things have happened,” she laughed. “See you at 2200
hours.”
He nodded and watched her walk away before resuming his own journey
to his quarters.

At 2130 hours, he arrived at Sandrine’s. The small bar was already
packed. The Captain caught his eye and motioned for him to join her at her
usual table. He nodded in reply, indicating that he was going to get a
drink first.
“I’m glad you could come, Commander,” she said when he finally joined
her. “I understand you’ll be B’Elanna’s partner. This whole affair should
make for an interesting evening.”
He chuckled inwardly at her choice of words; lately, everything he
heard seemed filled with double-entendres. His gaze wandered over the crowd
around the pool table. Harry Kim was bending down to make a shot; beside him,
stood his usual pool partner, Tom Paris and B’Elanna. Down the table waited
two Maquis crewmen, Ensigns Kenneth Dalby and the young Bajoran, Geron. Next
to them stood the ship’s science officer, Lt. Hannah Jemison.
Ever since she had come to terms with the death of her brother and
his own role in it, she had emerged from her lab and proven to be quite the
pool shark. A smile danced briefly across the first officer’s lips as he
remembered the first time she had taken Paris to the cleaners. Price: two
weeks worth of replicator rations.
Chakotay watched as Dalby executed a perfect masse shot. If Torres
thought Tom and Harry could beat those two, she was definitely spending too
much time in the engine room. In two more shots, the former Maquis had ended
the game.
“Rack ’em up, Harry,” Paris said. “We’ve got time for at least two
more games before this tournament starts.”
Hannah handed her cue to Geron and gave the young man an encouraging
smile. “You play for me this time. I’m going to get myself another drink.”
Both she and Dalby had gradually become friends with the younger man.
Hannah had especially grown close to him, and recently, under her tutelage, he
had officially become one of her senior lab assistants. According to the
section’s personnel report, he showed a real aptitude for elemental chemistry,
tectonics, and environmental geologic theory.
“Captain, Commander.”
“Good evening, Lt. Jemison.” Janeway returned the greeting. “I read
your recent report on deuterium processing and reclamation. I think you
definitely have some good ideas for improving the efficiency of our energy
consumption.”
“Thank you, Captain. Ensigns Geron and Daleth contributed; it was a
real team effort.”
Janeway smiled at her. When they got home this young woman was without
question headed for her own command.
“I understand you’re going to be Torres’ partner tonight, Commander.”
Hannah turned her gaze upon the seated man.
“That’s right, Lieutenant. I am.”
“Then, I’ll look forward to beating you, later.” An impudent twinkle
danced in her grey eyes. “Captain.” She nodded her respects before resuming
her journey to the bar.
“Amazing young woman,” the Captain remarked. “Reminds me sometimes of
myself, many, many years ago.”
Chakotay turned his gaze, which had followed Hannah’s departure, back
to Janeway. “It couldn’t be all that long ago. We’re not that old.”
She chuckled. “You’re right, Commander, but out here, surrounded by
this youthful crew, it’s easy to forget.”
*Age isn’t the only thing that separates us from them,* Chakotay mused.
*And it’s not the only reason behind your not playing tonight.*
“Eight ball in the side,” Geron called.
Clunk!
“Hey, Jemison,” barked Dalby to his returning partner. “He did it.
He almost cleared the table.”
Hannah gave an enthusiastic whoop. Setting her glass down, she gave
the embarrassed Bajoran a hug. “Way to go!”
Dalby clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep it up, kid, and you’ll be
taking her for replicator points soon.”
Geron laughed. “Oh, I’m not that good.” He looked at his superior
shyly. “I could never beat her.”
Jemison leaned against the table; her face full of pride in her pupil.
“Sure you could. You’ve got the talent; all you need is the experience. Why
I bet- Hey, I’ve got an idea. Come with me, Geron” She strode over to where
the two commanding officers sat. “Captain, I know this is a bit unusual, but
Ensign Geron could use a partner for the tournament tonight. I’d do it myself,
but I’ve already got Dalby. You’re an experienced pool player; would you mind
being his partner?”
The Captain looked from the Lieutenant to the young man beside her and
smiled. The Ensign blushed all the way to the roots of his dark hair. “Why
that’s a wonderful idea, Lieutenant. Ensign Geron, I’d love to be your
partner, if you’ll have me.” She rose and extended her hand.
The colour drained from his face, but he took her hand and gave it a
firm shake. “It-it would be an honour, Captain,” he stammered.
“Excellent. You and Dalby had best beware, Lieutenant; you’ve got a
talented, untested team on your hands.” The Captain’s eyes sparkled with
encouragement at the Bajoran, bringing the colour back to his face. “Who
knows? We might even walk away the victors tonight.”
Hannah grinned, her own wit matching Janeway’s. “And if you don’t?”
“Then, it’ll be the brig for you, my fine lass.” Tom Paris came up
behind her and finished the challenge for his Captain, his arm draped casually
across Hannah’s shoulders.
She held his gaze with one equally flirtatious. “Unh-hunh, but that
still won’t get you back those replicator rations you owe me.”
“We’ll see.” Tom replied. His arm dropped down to her waist, steering
her back towards the table. “It’s your break.”
The Captain and Geron followed them. Chakotay looked down at his drink
sitting on the table, his fingers clasped tightly around the glass. Quickly,
he released it, realizing how close he had come to shattering it with his bare
hand. Picking up the tumbler again, he swallowed the contents. *Not good,
`Commander’; just how in command are you?* he asked himself. He put the glass
back down and joined B’Elanna closer to the table.
The tournament began, and Dalby and Jemison easily dispatched Tuvok and
Neelix, Paris and Kim, and with a little more effort the Captain and Geron.
Now only Torres and himself stood between them and total victory.
Chakotay racked up the balls and looked up the table at Hannah, who was
preparing to break. Her face became a complete blank as she focused her
attention on the cue ball. Adjusting her stance slightly until it felt right,
she waited for the first officer to remove the wooden rack.
Crack! The balls scattered across the table, but none of them went in.
“Damn!” she cursed under her breath. Her concentration had waivered at
the last minute, causing her to put a spin on the ball she hadn’t wanted.
“Don’t worry about it.” Dalby came up behind her. “Torres is only
good for a run of about three, four tops.”
As it was, B’Elanna only sank two before he took the table. The Ensign
got a 5-ball run going before he misjudged the return of the cueball. It came
to rest directly behind the 13, effectively cancelling out the shot on the 2
he had hoped to make.
“Looks like its down to you and me, Commander,” Hannah observed.
Chakotay nodded, keeping his eyes on the table. He wanted to keep all
his concentration focused on the matter at hand.
Clunk! Clunk! He sunk two before moving around the table. Clunk!
He chalked his stick before taking aim. Clunk!
*Four down,* he reminded himself. *Only the 14 and 8 to go.*
Jemison and the rest of the bar held its breath. *The game’s over,*
she told herself. *The 14’s an easy shot which should leave him directly in
line with the 8.*
Tom came up and rested his arm on one of her shoulders. “Tough luck,”
he whispered. “You two almost swept us all.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Chakotay saw Paris next to Hannah and
felt his hand tighten involuntarily around the end of the stick. He tried
to shake the image from his head, refocusing his attention on the 14. Miss!
Dalby let out an audible sigh of relief, as Jemison moved up to the
table.
Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!
Hannah lay her stick on the table. It was all over and they had won.
Dalby gave her a victorious hand clasp before they shook hands with Torres and
Chakotay.
“Tough luck, Commander. I really thought you had us beaten.” Hannah
took his hand firmly in hers.
“Yeah, well, you two deserved to win. I guess it’s always the easy
shots you take for granted.”
“Maybe,” she responded. Why did she have the feeling he was lying?
*He should have been able to make that shot with his eyes closed,* she
told herself.
The first officer moved away from the gathering crowd and back towards
the bar, where he quietly ordered a double.
Geron followed him with his eyes. *They don’t know how much they owe
their victory to Lt. Paris,* he mused. He, alone, had noticed how white
Chakotay’s knuckles had become when Lt. Paris had approached Hannah. White
knuckles, increased duty shifts, the self-imposed isolation; slowly it all
began to fall into place in the young Bajoran’s mind.

Geron lay on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Four uneventful
days had passed since the night at Sandrine’s, and he had done a lot of
thinking in that time. The Commander had always been kind to him, but somehow
removed, a kind of remote father-figure. Someone he had always admired and
recently striven to emulate, just like the Lieutenant.
A smile crept across his face. She was like the sister he had left
behind in the Alpha quadrant; kind, instructive, fun-loving. Geron had
wondered about her feelings for some time now. Ever since she and Chakotay
had come to an understanding over his role in the destruction of the Starfleet
runabout her brother had been on, it seemed to Geron that she spoke the first
officer’s name with a touch more respect, maybe, than she did anyone else’s,
including the Captain’s. He had saved her life after all, and there was often
a special bond that developed between people in those circumstances.
“Hey, Geron.” Dalby called from his bed. Bunking up among the lower
ranks had become mandatory to conserve fuel supplies. “What are you doing over
there?”
“Just thinking.”
“Unh-hunh. ‘Bout what?”
“Oh, a lot of things.” Geron rolled over on his side and raised up on
one elbow. “People on this ship mostly.”
“Like who?”
“You, me, Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay, Lt. Jemison. Tell me,
Dalby, what do your think of the Lieutenant?”
A grin flashed across the older man’s harsh features. “Why? You
interested in her?”
“No, but I think I know someone who is.”
“Really? Who? I know Paris has been after her ever since she stepped
foot in Sandrine’s, but that’s nothing new.” Intrigued, Dalby set down
his PADD.
“Can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Seriously,
what do you think of her?”
“She’s a fine officer and a damn good pool player. Good looks, good
personality, and smart, but you already know that. Hell, I’d date her myself,
but she’s out of my league.”
“Yeah, she’s special all right,” Geron confirmed. “But just whose
league is she in?”
“If you mean on this ship, you’d better look toward the Starfleet guys.
She’s career all the way and ambitious. You don’t play pool the way she does
and settle for time wasters, that’s why Paris will never make any headway with
her. I guess about the only Maquis who might stand a chance with her would be
the Commander since he’s ex-Starfleet. But I don’t see those two hooking up
anytime soon, not with her brother’s death hanging between them.”
“But she’s forgiven him for that. She told me so.” Geron protested.
The older man cast him a curious glance. “Tell me, Geron. If you met
a beautiful Cardassian and found out that she had been responsible for the
death of your sister, however indirectly, would you be taking her to bed?”
The young ensign rolled on his back. “I guess not,” he sighed.

Geron looked up from the sample the computer was analyzing.
“Lieutenant?”
“Hmm?” Engrossed, Hannah didn’t raise her eyes from the results she
was busily comparing.
“You’re pretty observant, right?”
“As a scientist, I’d like to think so.”
The Bajoran cleared his throat. “Well, what’s your take on the two
crews? I mean, do you think we’re coming together as the Captain hopes?”
Hannah lifted her head in thought before turning her gaze on him.
“I believe so. Why?”
“I just noticed that you and Dalby were the only mixed crew team the
other night, and it just got me to thinking that’s all. I mean, take the
Commander for instance. How do the Starfleet people feel about him?”
“We follow the Captain’s orders,” she replied. “She has seen fit
to appoint him her first officer, and we will abide by that decision. Most of
us feel that he is a good man. It’s easy to give him your respect, and he
cares a great deal about all the people under him. I think Starfleet probably
lost a fine officer when he resigned, and considering how I used to feel about
him, that says a lot,” she finished with a grin.
“He’s been acting really strange lately, though.” Geron remarked.
“Like something’s bothering him.”
Hannah nodded in agreement. “Unh-hunh. I’ve noticed it, too. He
hasn’t looked at that well, either. I asked him when I delivered my report
yesterday if everything was okay, and he gave me the strangest look. Then, he
said yes and dismissed me. I spoke with Lt. Torres, and she is as much in the
dark as the rest of us. Although, she did mention something about him having
trouble sleeping recently, but evidently, that’s not the problem, only a
symptom.” Suddenly, it dawned on her that she may have spoken a little too
freely, even though everyone on board knew something was wrong. “Hey, Geron,
what I just said, it doesn’t go any further than the two of us, understand?”
The young man smiled. “Understood. I won’t breathe a word,
Lieutenant. I wonder what could be bothering him though? It can’t be the
crew, and he and the Captain are on good terms, which means it must be
personal. Maybe he’s got a crush on someone.”
Hannah gave an uncertain chuckle. “He’s not a teen-ager, Geron. I’m
sure if he liked someone he’d come out and say it. Commanding officers are
able to fraternize with their subordinates, you know.”
“Not according to him.” Geron stated. “I bet I know. I’ll bet its
Ensign Lakur. I’ve seen them talking together every now and then.”
“You have? When?” Hannah quickly snapped at his bait. “It couldn’t
be her; she’s not his type. Besides, I think she’s seeing someone in
engineering.”
The ensign chuckled to himself; he could almost see waves of jealousy
issuing from her. *So, you do like him. Have you admitted this to yourself
yet?* “Who is his type?” he pressed.
“Oh hell, I haven’t the foggiest. I wouldn’t have put him and Seska
together; so that only proves how much I know.” With a shrug, she turned back
toward the viewscreen.

Over the next few evenings, the Bajoran kept a sharp eye on both of
them at Sandrine’s, noting that they both watched each other covertly. Once,
he had even been afraid that the Commander would start a fight when Lt. Paris
had become a little too fresh with Hannah. She had shot him right down, and
everyone had concentrated on their verbal skirmish. Geron, alone, had seen the
momentary flash of fury in the older man’s eyes before the customary mask
dropped into place.
*Perhaps they just need a little push,* he thought boldly. *Maybe
there’s some way . . . *

“Come in.” Chakotay pushed the PADD away on the coffee table.
“Mr. Geron, what can I do for you?”
“Um, well, s-sir.” This was going to be harder than he had thought; at
least, he didn’t have to fake his nervousness.
“At ease, Ensign. Have a seat.” The older man gestured to a chair
next to the desk.
“N-no sir. I’d prefer to stand.” Geron looked down at the floor and
silently reminded himself to breathe. “Actually, it’s kind of embarrassing.”
The first officer sat back. “It’s all right, Mr. Geron; tell me when
you can. There’s really not that much you can say that will surprise me,
I assure you.”
“Well, sir. I need you to teach me how to dance,” the young man
blurted out.
Chakotay’s jaw dropped slightly, and an amused expression appeared on
his face. “I take that last statement back, Ensign. You have surprised me,
but surely, there’s someone else-”
“There’s this girl, you see, and she loves to dance, but I don’t know
how, and Mr. Dalby told me one time that you were a good dancer, and I thought,
that is, I hoped-”
“Take a breath, Mr. Geron.” The Commander chuckled lightly. “You’re
turning blue. So, Dalby told you I was a good dancer, hmm? How did he know?”
The answer came to him just as Geron answered, “Seska.”
“I’m sorry, Commander. I know you’re very busy, but I thought maybe
if you could show me just a few steps-”
“Now?”
“No, sir. A little later on the holodeck. I found a program for a
dance studio, wood floors and everything.” Geron knew that his entire face was
flushed from excitement. *This has to work.*
Chakotay looked at the red-faced youth and smiled. “Okay, Ensign.
I’ll teach you a few steps, but if you dare breathe a word of this to anyone-”
“No, sir. I won’t, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Fine. How is 2100 hours with you?”
“That’ll be fine. I’ll be there.”
“All right. Dismissed.” He shook his head in disbelief. *Well, you
said for me to get out more, Doctor, but I seriously doubt that this is what
either of us had in mind.*

At 2100 he met Geron outside holodeck 2. “I can’t thank you enough
for helping me, Commander,” the young man said as the doors slid open. “And I
know you told me not to tell anyone, but Lt. Jemison promised she wouldn’t
say anything.”
“Jemison? What the-?” The first officer stopped short, seeing a
teal-collared uniform limbering up at the barre.
“Commander.” Her smiling face raised up from the stretch. “I see you
got roped into this, too.” She turned to face them. Her dark brown hair hung
down, barely grazing her shoulders and framing her face attractively. Geron
noted with some satisfaction that the Indian quietly caught his breath
before replying.
“Yes, but I thought this was supposed to be a private lesson.” He
turned on the youth behind him.
“I-I knew you would need a partner, Commander, and since I knew that
the Lieutenant also dances, I thought maybe she wouldn’t mind helping.” He
straightened up slightly. “I’m sorry, sir. You’re doing me a favor; I should
have consulted you first.”
“Nevermind. What’s done is done. Lieutenant, I want to apologize
first off in case I injure you in any way; it’s been quite some time since I
last had the opportunity to dance. Now, exactly what do you want to know,
Geron.” Chakotay realized he had to take charge of the situation for
his own sake.
“Well, I know she likes the Andorian waltz and some old Earth dance
called the foxtrot, but I think her favorite is the Risan tango.”
*The Risan tango! Oh great! One of the most intimate dances in the
galaxy.* The older man groaned silently, as his mind began rehearsing the
provocative steps.
“I was thinking,” Geron continued. “That you could show me one of
each, and then, we could start the actual lesson.”
Hannah shot him a curious glance and shrugged. “Okay by me. How about
you, sir?”
“Fine, fine, let’s get this over with. I mean, the sooner we get
started-” *Oh, hell!* he thought.
Grinning at his embarrassment, Hannah called for waltz music. She
placed a hand lightly upon his shoulder, her grey eyes glowing in amusement.
“Shall we?”

The young Bajoran watched them through two dances, their bodies moving
and responding to each other as if they were one being; it was almost like
intruding upon an act of intimacy. In fact, Geron was willing to bet that if
he exited the holodeck they wouldn’t even notice. He rose and quietly called
for the doors. *I’ll let them enjoy the moment alone.*
Chakotay was aware of only two things: the woman he held in his arms
and the dances which allowed his body to speak to hers in a manner he thought
it never would in private. His arm wrapped around her slender waist; his
thighs pressed against her legs; to him, their very souls seemed almost joined
by the depth of their concentration.
When the music ended, they stood together, breathing heavily, each
staring into the other’s eyes; neither able to break free. Her arms were
already around his neck; one of his hands at the small of her back. His left
hand crept behind her head, tangling in the thick, mahogany-coloured hair.
Spellbound, he drew her closer, his lips meeting hers in a tender, then
increasingly passionate kiss.
With her willing response, all reason left him, and his mouth wandered
along her jawline and down her neck, tasting her skin with occasional flicks of
his tongue. Hannah moaned softly, and Chakotay felt his excitement increase
in reaction. If they didn’t stop this now, he wouldn’t be able to stop at all.
He was her commanding officer; he knew better than this. Pulling her arms from
around his neck, he stepped back out of reach. Her face registered the same
combination of desire and shock that he was experiencing; her eyes, darkened by
intense emotions, were as grey as the storm clouds he loved to watch back home.
*Great Coo-naayoo, how could I let this happen?* “I’m sorry,
Lieutenant,” he mumbled, a dark flush coming to his face as he strode quickly
out of the program.

“Aargrr!” The outer soundproof casing of the wall shuddered briefly
under the blow of Chakotay’s fist.
“Idiot! How could you? You, who had expressed such reservations about
crew fraterniztion. How could you be so careless?
“Paetah!” he roared, smashing his knuckles back into the wall, this
time leaving a small smear of blood.
*She could press charges, you know.* he told himself silently, but he
didn’t think she would. “After everything I’ve done to try and gain her
respect and trust.” He shook his head and sank wearily into a chair. “I’ve
blown it, all of it. Damn!” He slammed his injured hand down on his desk.
The pain felt good; he deserved it. He looked at the split, bleeding skin on
his knuckles; he would have to get that treated in the morning. Tonight, he
didn’t want to see or talk to anyone else.
Getting up, he crossed the room toward the bed. On the small bedside
ledge was the small container of sleeping pills that had kept him going for the
past few days. *Weak, undisciplined. Where is your spirit?* Even recent
visits with his guide had not helped, for the course of action she advocated
was one not open to him.
He took two of the pills and threw himself fully dressed onto the bed.
Closing his eyes, his mind drifted back to the holodeck. *Great Mother, she
had felt nice. If I hadn’t pushed her away. . .* He knew he would have made
love to her right there on the dance floor. *Tenderly, too; unless, of course,
she really is a biter.* He gave a small hopeless grin. The dream would come
again tonight, of that he was certain.

Geron didn’t say a word, watching as Lt. Jemison worked silently
through their shift. *She doesn’t seem to be angry,* he thought, as she
punched out calculations on one of the lab’s viewers. *But why doesn’t she
say something? Did nothing happen? Was I wrong to have left them?* No
immediate answers seemed to be forthcoming from his superior officer.
The silence grew more and more unbearable; he had to speak; he had to
know. “Ahem, uh, you and the Commander made really good dance partners last
night.”
Silence.
“I mean, you seemed to sense each other’s movements perfectly,” he
continued on bravely. “I just wish I could’ve stayed and seen all of your
Risan tango.”
“Why didn’t you?” Her eyes never left the screen.
“Well, I, uh, remembered something I had to do for Daleth, but since
you two appeared to be having fun, I thought I’d let you finish the dance
without me.” *That sounded a bit glib,* he cautioned himself silently.
Hannah turned and eyed him with a look somewhat akin to distrust. She
knew he wasn’t telling her the truth; in fact, she had begun to doubt his
entire story. However, exactly why he would concoct such a fabrication eluded
her. To be honest, though, she hadn’t given it much thought; she hadn’t given
most things much thought all morning. Last night had left her much too
confused for reasoned reflection.
After the Commander had left, she had followed him out of the holodeck
in a daze. She still didn’t recall the journey back to her quarters or getting
ready for bed. All she really remembered was waking up in her bed this
morning with the pressure of his mouth still present on her neck.
“Lieutenant!” Geron’s voice sung out. “Be careful!”
Too late. The beaker of bentalenic acid fell and splashed upon her
hand. Immediately, the skin began to burn. Grabbing the lab’s medikit, Geron
quickly opened it and plunged her hand into one of the burn solution packs.
The soothing gel counteracted the chemical reaction and stopped the pain.
“Ahhh,” she involuntarily gasped in relief, before looking up into a
pair of concerned brown eyes. “Thanks, Geron; its okay now. That was really
quick thinking on your part. I should have been paying more attention to what
I was doing.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine once the Doctor had taken a look.” She rose to her
feet and carefully removed the splattered lab coat. “Could you and Hodges
clean up this mess for me? I should get to sickbay.”
The young ensign nodded pulling on the heavy decontamination gloves.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant; I’ll take care of things here.” It was the least he
could do. After all, he figured it was his meddling that had probabaly caused
her inattention in the first place.
Holding her still-bagged hand at the wrist, Hannah left the lab and
headed for sickbay. The seven deck ride was quick enough, depositing her
efficiently on deck 5 and right into the first officer’s arms.
They regarded each other silently for a moment, a slight flush coming
to both faces. Then, with a brief nod, Chakotay moved to enter the lift, but
the bag on her hand caught his eye. He frowned. “What happened to you,
Lieutenant?”
“What?” She had completely forgotten for the moment about her injury.
“Oh, I spilt some bentalenic acid, and-”
“Bentalenic? Come with me.” He grabbed her under the elbow and
hustled her down the corridor.
“Computer, activate emergency holographic program,” he requested as
they each got one foot in the door.
“Commander, please state-”
“The Lieutenant has spilt some bentalenic acid on herself. She needs
immediate attention.” Chakotay impatiently cut off the Doctor’s ever-present
question.
“Bentalenic? That’s very corrosive. How much did you spill,
Lieutenant?” The Doctor grabbed the tricorder off his desk.
Hannah hopped up on a biobed. “A small beaker full, most of it went on
the table. Geron plunged my hand in this bag before I was really aware of how
much got on me.”
The Doctor looked at his readings. “A very wise move on his part. Any
delay and you might have suffered nerve damage. Now, I’m going to have to
remove the bag. Once your skin is exposed you may feel some pain before I
begin the dermal treatments.”
Hannah gasped as the bag was taken away. She had seen acid burns
before, but seeing them on oneself was another matter. Where the bentalenic
droplets had fallen, the skin had bubbled and burst leaving burnt-rimmed sores
behind. The green treatment gel only added a disgusting likeness to oozing pus
to the wounds.
“That doesn’t look too bad,” the Doctor remarked casually, turning her
hand over in his.
Hannah stared at him in amazement. “Too bad?” she repeated. “I’d hate
to see what qualifies as serious in your book, Doctor.” She gave a sudden hiss
of pain, the knuckles of her uninjured hand turning white. Closing her eyes
briefly, she swallowed hard. “Damn!”
“Pain starting already?” The Doctor reached for the dermal
regeneration unit.
She nodded; her mouth drawn in a tight line. A hand slipped around her
free one and gave it a little squeeze. As she looked up, Chakotay gave her a
small smile of encouragement.
*Once the regeneration begins, I’ll leave,* he told himself, determined
to escape before she could follow. Watching her closely, he saw the corners of
her mouth start to relax; that was his cue. “Well, Lieutenant, now that you
seem to be out of danger; I’ll take my leave. Doctor.” He gave the hologram
a slight bow of acknowledgement and headed for the door. “Oh, Lieutenant.” He
paused as the door opened. “Try to be more careful next time. In case you
hadn’t noticed, we’re running a little short on science officers this voyage.”
Before she could retort, the doors closed and he was gone.

Hannah nervously tapped the PADD against her hand. Two days had passed
since she spilt the acid and no trace of the burns remained. She hadn’t seen
Chakotay in that time either, but now it was the end of the week, and time to
deliver her report to him. In the past, this weekly ritual had been so easy,
so professional. *Do I say something? Do I not say something? Just what do
I do?* The questions spun around her head, just as they had since the evening
he kissed her. *Or did I kiss him?*
She should be angry at him she had tried to tell herself. It was
his fault, not hers. It was his mouth that had lowered onto hers; his arms
that had held her fast. But he had also been the one who had stopped; the one
who refused to let them make a mistake they might later regret. He had shown
restraint and judgement, not her. Hannah closed her eyes and leaned against
the side of the car, wondering what it would be like to feel his lips and hands
move over her body.
The lift halted, and she exited. His door was five cabins away. She
found herself entertaining the childish notion of pressing the chime, dropping
the PADD and running. “Idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “Just give it
to him and leave, like you always do. You’re an officer, a professional,
remember?”

Chakotay paced the floor of his quarters. 0830 hours. She would be
there soon, just as she was every week, prompt and efficient.
“Paetah!” He cursed himself for the umpteenth time in as many days.
“How could you let it happen? You knew better!”
The chime sounded, interrupting his self-recrimination. He quickly
slid into the chair by his desk and picked up a PADD. Professional. Cool and
Professional.
“Come in. Ah, Lt. Jemison, on time as always. How’s the hand?”
“Fine, Commander. The Doctor did his usual superb job. Here’s the
weekly science report; you’ll notice that so far our refining experiments are
meeting without much success. We don’t know why just yet; theoretically, they
should work.”
Chakotay nodded, quickly glancing over the information handed to him.
“I’ll inform the Captain. Keep working on it, though; I’m sure you and your
team will solve whatever problems exist. Dismissed.” He gave her a brief
smile of encouragement before turning to his desk.
“Yes sir; we’ll do our best.” She stood staring at him, rooted by the
memory of the previous night.
Uncomfortably aware of her silent presence, he glanced back up. “Is
there something else I can do for you, Lt. Jemison?”
Her head jerked slightly. “Oh, ah, no, Commander. I guess not. Sorry
to bother you.” She proceeded toward the door. *Idiot. What did you expect?
He’s not only your superior; he’s Maquis. Remember that.*
Chakotay frowned, perhaps he should speak with her. *Oh hell, why did
this have to happen?* “Wait a minute, Lieutenant.” He rose from his chair and
stepped towards her. “Maybe you and I should have a little talk.” He motioned
for her to join him on the sofa.
She hesitated, and then, shrugging slightly, took a seat. “Very well,
Commander. What do you want to talk about?”
He sat down a few centimeters away. “You know perfectly well what I
am referring to, Hannah. Our little dance lesson on the holodeck the other
night, the one that I believe was arranged for our benefit.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “So you think so, too.”
Chakotay nodded. “I’ve thought about it from just about every
conceivable angle I can, and that’s the only way it makes any sense. Of course
the why still eludes me.”
“Excuse me?”
He flushed slightly under his dark skin. “No, that’s not quite what I
meant. You’re a very attractive and intelligent woman, Hannah; any man would
be lucky to have you as a partner. I mean, considering our past connections
with the Galileo, as well as my current position on board this ship, I wouldn’t
have thought anyone, much less Geron, would have tried to match us together.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would, and the last thing this ship need is
another rampant rumor.”
“My thoughts exactly. But I did want to apologize. I shouldn’t have
taken advantage of you like that. You are a fine officer, and we’ve managed
to build a good working relationship. I wouldn’t want what happened a few
nights ago to jeopardize that.” Chakotay tried to remember if it had hurt this
much when he resigned Starfleet.
“Yes sir. I understand. Well, if that’s all I’ll be returning to my
lab.” A flush was creeping into her face, but at the moment, she didn’t know
whether it was from embarrassment or anger. Right now, all she wanted was to
get away from this man who always seemed, however unintentionally, to bring
pain into her life. *I can’t cry,* she willed. *I won’t allow it.* Quickly,
she rose and walked to the door, exiting without waiting for his permission.

Somehow, she made it through her shift; she knew Geron had been
watching her closely ever since she had returned from delivering the report.
Now, alone in her quarters, she lay curled up on her bed, Chakotay’s earlier
words echoing in her head.
Neelix had begun serving dinner an hour ago, but she wasn’t hungry.
In a strange way, the self-induced hollowness comforted her, almost punishing
her for her lapse into folly. How could she have been so foolish? It was bad
enough that he was her commanding officer; equally bad was his involuntary role
in her brother’s death. But he was Maquis; she couldn’t risk her career on a
personal involvement with an enemy of the Federation. Working out here with
them was one thing; that was survival. An affair with one of their commanders
was quite another. *How could you even consider it? It would mean betraying
everything you’ve worked for, every principle you’ve been raised to uphold.
Dammit! Why of all the men on this ship did it have to be him? Why?*
“Arrgh!” A deep, throaty cry of anger escaped from her as she sent her
pillow flying across the room right into Chakotay’s face.
“Good arm,” he remarked, catching it as it fell. “Good lungs, too.
I would never have thought you had Klingon blood in you.”
Hannah sat back on her ankles, her mouth open in shock. “What- what
are you doing in here? I locked my door; I didn’t want to be disturbed.” He
was no longer her commanding officer; he was an intruder, and quite frankly,
the last person in the galaxy she wanted to see.
“What a curious effect I seem to have on some people,” he continued
calmly. “Always throwing things at me; Torres, Hakil, and now you. Very un-
Starfleet of you, Lieutenant.” He chided her gently.
“If you came here to infuriate me; I don’t need any help. I’m quite
upset enough, thank you.” She was beginning to compose herself, her voice
sliding easily into its cold, impersonal tone.
“So I see.” Chakotay tossed the pillow on the bed. “Actually, that’s
why I am here. When you didn’t show for dinner, I thought I’d come and see if
you were all right. I grew alarmed when I discovered the door locked but
received no answer to the chime.”
“You pressed the chime?”
“Yes, twice. I used the security override only when the computer said
you were in here. Hannah,” He sat down on the bed. “I think we may still
need to talk.”
“What do we have to talk about?” She scrambled to her feet; the close
proximity of his body had an unsettling effect. “I understood everything
perfectly earlier. Now, if you don’t mind, Commander.” She gestured to
the door.
“Hannah, please don’t start putting up another wall between us. Not
after we’ve worked so hard to develop a professional relationship.”
“Professional?” Her voice rose with each word she uttered. “You call
what happened in the holodeck, professional? You don’t seem to understand a
few things, Commander. I hate the circumstances which force us to work
together. I hate being on this ship with you. I hate you for being who you
are.” Instinctively, she lashed out, wanting to him hurt as much as she was
hurting, wanting his face to break its frozen mask.
Chakotay’s stoical countenance, however, never revealed the pain her
words inflicted; he just sat and stared at her impassively during the outburst.
“Are you through, Lieutenant?” he asked calmly; his own explosion would come
later, in private he hoped.
“To begin with, I apologize for what occurred the other night. I
didn’t mean for it to happen, and I should have been more in control. If you
wish to press charges, you are within your rights to do so. Secondly, I’m
sorry you feel the way you do about me. I’ve tried to make amends as best I
could, but I can’t change the past. And lastly,” He took a deep breath. Her
words were pounding loudly inside his head, and his own anger at the whole
situation was mounting much too quickly. He had to get away. “Lastly, I’m
just sorry. I accept full responsibility for everything, for the Galileo, the
holodeck, everything.” Rising, he strode rapidly toward the door, which opened
allowing Geron to plow into him.
“Oh, Commander. I-uh.” Seeing both of their expressions, he hesitated.
“Um, Lieutenant, is anything wrong? Can I do anything? Can I-” He stopped as
he felt his body lifted off the floor and pressed with a painful forcefulness
into the wall.
“Can you do anything?” Chakotay growled in his face. “Haven’t you
done enough already? Why did you do it? Why?” He tightened his hold on the
young man’s uniform and gave him a shake. “Answer me, Geron!”
“Commander.” Hannah grabbed his arm to intercede. “Commander, let
him go.”
“Not until he tells me why he saw fit to meddle in our personal lives.
He owes us both that.” It had been a long time since he had been this hurt and
this angry, not even Seska’s betrayal had come close.
“Commander, you’re right; we deserve an explanation, but not this way.”
Her hands locked onto his wrists and one shoulder dug into his ribs as she
tried to pry the two men apart. “Please, let him go.” She stared up into the
livid black pools. “Chakotay, please.”
Something in her voice broke through his anger. He abruptly released
the young ensign and stepped back, shocked at his own uncontrollable outburst.
Breathing heavily, he gazed from the boy’s scared face to Hannah’s concerned
one and back again. “I’m sorry, Geron. I shouldn’t have acted in such a way.
I – Excuse me.” Before either could respond, he left the room.
Hannah turned to her subordinate. “Now, would you mind telling me what
has been going on? He’s right, you know; you do owe us that much.”
The young man nodded in response, sinking slowly down into a weak-
kneed crouch.

Three hours later, Chakotay looked up from the PADD he held. He had
finally finished his letter of resignation to Captain Janeway. *A first
officer can’t go around shoving ensigns into walls,* he reflected bitterly.
*No matter how much they deserve it.* Besides, charges would probably be
brought against him, and he’d rather just resign now and be done with it.
Seventy-odd years in the brig, couldn’t be that bad, could it?
He glanced at the door as the chime sounded. *Damn!* The last thing
he wanted was to see anyone; maybe whoever it was would go away.
It sounded again. Shrugging his shoulders, he unwillingly acknowledged
the third chime. “Come in.”
“Commander, I thought you might like to know; I managed to extract a
full confession out of Geron. You should try the rack next time, much quicker
results.” Hannah leaned against the wall and folded her arms across her chest.
“I don’t find that very amusing, Lieutenant. What I did was completely
out of line, and I’m prepared to answer for it,” he replied, tossing her the
PADD.
She scanned it quickly. “But this is your resignation.”
He nodded. “A first officer can’t be as out of control as I’ve been
lately. The Captain needs someone she can count on. As of late, my
performance hasn’t measured up; besides once Tuvok gets through bringing
charges against me-”
“There won’t be any charges, Commander. Geron realizes now that his
intentions, however well-meant, were misguided.”
“But still-”
“Commander, drop it. The matter is settled.” She placed the PADD
on the desk in front of him. “Oh, and delete this.”
“I can’t do that, Hannah.”
“If you don’t, I will, and the backup copy, too.”
“All right.” Chakotay pressed a few buttons. “There, satisfied?”
“No, but it’ll do for now.” She strolled over and looked out one of
his windows.
He spun around in his chair and stared at her silent back. “Well?”
he prompted.
“Well what?” She didn’t turn around.
“Is there something else I can do for you?” *Just what could Geron
have told you?* he wondered silently.
“Hmm, that’s a good question. Actually, I’m just waiting for
confirmation.”
“Confirmation of what? Don’t play games, Jemison; I’m not in
the mood.”
Throwing caution to the wind, she turned around, a partially suppressed
smile on her lips. “Confirmation on how you feel about me, what else? I
believe you have some pretty strong feelings for me.”
*Damn her! What kind of game was she trying to play?* “I think you
had better leave, Lieutenant.” His voice became dangerously quiet.
“Why?” She crossed her arms defiantly, refusing to budge. “I think I
have a right to know, especially after what happened.”
After all that she had said earlier, now this; she was almost flirting
with him. Was she trying to torment him? He could feel his control slipping
away bit by bit, as his hands curled around the arms of the chair. “Get out!”
She stared at him in shock. *Hadn’t he? Didn’t he?* She was
confused. “Why? I don’t understand. I thought, I mean, Geron said-”
“Eactly what did our intrepid crewman tell you?” he demanded angrily.
“Well, for starters, that Ken and I owed our victory the other night
more to Lt. Paris putting his arm on my shoulder than to luck, and after what
happened on the holodeck, I didn’t think his assessment was too far off.”
Chakotay glared at her. “So you thought you would come be my quarters
and see for yourself if he was right. Is that it?” *Oh gods, it’s all going
to come out now; there’s no way I can stop it anymore.* Wearily, his head
sank sideways into his hand, covering his eyes. He couldn’t look at her, not
now. “Well, he was, okay. Now will you please leave.” His voice reflected
a mental and physical exhaustion worse than any he had ever felt before.
“No.”
He looked up; how much more humiliation did he have to endure to please
her? “That’s an order, Lieutenant.”
Hannah stood her ground. “Then, you can bring me up on charges because
you were right, we do need to talk.”
“Considering what you said earlier, I would’ve thought that that
particular necessity had already been taken care of. As I recall, you hate
having to work with me; you hate being on this ship with me; and you just hate
me, period.” He said it all very calmly, as if he expected nothing else. His
dark eyes, though, glowed with a pain-filled fury.
Hannah’s mouth dropped open; the full horror of her earlier diatribe
striking her sharply. No wonder he was so angry; her previous words had
skewered him, but he had never shown it while they were being spoken. Now, it
was her turn to collapse. She sank down on his sofa. “Oh, Chakotay, I’m so
sorry. That wasn’t what I meant at all. You’ve got to believe me; I was
upset, but at our whole situation, not you. I’m angry that we are so far from
home; that you are Maquis and I’m Starfleet; that everything about us is wrong;
and that in spite of it all or maybe because of it, I find myself attracted to
you. I-” She stopped abruptly, embarrassed by her own admission. “I’m sorry.
You’re right. I had better go.”
She rose and tried to make her way to the door, but he stepped quickly
in front of her, blocking her exit. “Don’t apologize, Hannah,” he whispered,
grabbing her arms and pulling her to him. “Don’t ever apologize for what you
just said. You don’t know what it means to me.”
She looked up at him, her soft grey eyes full of disappointment.
“Actually, I think I do.”
He gave her a tired smile and pressed her head against his chest above
his heart. *Great Coo-naayoo, thank you for this brief moment with this
woman,* he prayed silently. *Even though, I know there can be no others.*
The low drumbeat of his heart was soothing, and Hannah did not want to
move. It was warm and comfortable in his arms. *Too warm and comfortable,*
she reminded herself and gently pulled away from his embrace. “What are we
going to do?”
“Do?” Chakotay stared at her for a minute, and then walked over to the
windows. Gazing out, he found no answers forthcoming and sighed heavily. “Oh,
hell, Hannah, I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m not sure there ever can be a
`we’. Relationships within Starfleet are tough enough; between you and me, on
this ship, the odds of success are probably four times as small.”
She cleared her throat. “Whether there is a `we’ or not, in one sense
doesn’t matter. We still have to work together. I’ll still have to submit
weekly reports to you; we’ll still see each other at Sandrine’s; and on certain
occasions, we may even have to go on away missions together. How will we deal
with that?”
He turned, an undisguised sadness filling his dark eyes. “The same way
they taught us at the Academy, Lieutenant, as Starfleet officers.”
“Yes sir, as Starfleet officers. I understand.” She drew herself up
to attention.
He crossed over to her and brushed her pale cheek with the back of his
fingers. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I never meant for this to happen.”
“I know that, Chakotay. Neither did I.” Her reply was hardly more
than a whisper.
He drew a deep breath. *Dammit! If it hadn’t been for that stupid
treaty, none of us would be where we are right now,* he reflected silently.
“Then I think you had better go, Lieutenant. We’ll get through this somehow.”
“Yes sir. Good night.” She turned towards the door. “Oh, Commander.”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“If you ever need a dance partner. . .”
The dark eyes twinkled wearily. “I know who to ask now, don’t I?”
Hannah nodded him a half-smile as the door leading to the corridor
slid open.

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From: crime@bu.edu (mary self)
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Subject: REPOST: Regrets (VOY)
Date: 6 Oct 1995 11:52:43 GMT
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All the characters in this story except for Hannah belong to Paramount and are
its property. They are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment
purposes only. The story and the character of Hannah Jemison, however, are
entirely of my own invention.

Regrets

by Carly Hunter
copyright 1995

“Thank you for seeing me, Captain.” Ensign Hannah Jemison remained
at attention before her commanding officer, Captain Kathryn Janeway.
“Not at all, Ensign. Please sit down. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Well, Captain. It’s about my position. As you know, I have been
performing the duties of the Science Officer on this vessel. However, my
rank and title officially still reflect my original job as a principal
investigator. I oversee three of the Maquis crewmembers, who, through no
fault of their own, do not have enough experience to fill my original
position, and I am often forced to do both jobs at once, serving as my own
assistant. Therefore, I think it is only fair that my position and rank
reflect the duties that circumstances have forced upon me. In short, I
would like my personnel record to list me as the ship’s science officer with
its corresponding rank of lieutenant.”
“I see.” Janeway sat back. *Such brashness in one so young.* Jemison
was right, though. She had been doing the jobs of two people; three, if you
counted the instruction she gave to the three Maquis after hours. Further, her
own Academy record showed that she deserved the position more than anybody,
graduating with distinctions in zoology, botany, exobiology and environmental
geology. Still, her manner was abrasive and disturbing.
“I am curious, Ensign; have you discussed this with
Commander Chakotay?”
“No, Captain.”
“And why not? You know that he is responsible for initiating crew
assignments. You should have gone to him first.” Janeway found herself
becoming irritated.
“I am aware of that, Captain, but I would prefer not to consult him on
this matter.” Hannah’s voice and manner were defiant.
“And why is that?”
“I’d rather not discuss it, Captain.”
“I’m afraid that is not good enough, Ensign. Mr. Chakotay is your
commanding officer, and I expect you to regard him as such. I will not have
this crew separated into Maquis and Starfleet; this ship cannot operate that
way. From now on, you take up your requests or problems with the Commander.
Do I make myself clear?”
Jemison returned Janeway’s gaze. “Yes, Captain.”
“Now, I will discuss your request with him, and he will notify you of
my decision. Dismissed.”
Hannah rose and left the ready room. She had taken a chance going
directly to the Captain, but she couldn’t face *that* man. It was bad enough
to know that he was on the same ship, but her commanding officer – never!

After dinner, Hannah settled down with a PADD to review the experiments
her co-workers had completed. The sound of the door chime made her look up.
“Come in.”
The door opened to reveal Commander Chakotay.
“Yes, Commander?” She drew herself stiffly to attention, intending to
have as few words with this man as possible.
“Ensign.” He tried to control himself, but his eyes betrayed his
anger. “I would like to know why you found it necessary to go over my head
to the Captain about your request.”
“I thought it would expedite matters.” Her manner was cold and aloof.
“Don’t lie to me, Ensign. The Captain seems to be of the opinion that
there is a problem between us, and I would like to know if she is correct.”
His dark gaze studied her face intently.
“The Captain has already admonished me, Commander, and I have agreed
to consult you on future matters. I am sorry to have caused you any concern
or embarrassment.” Her face remained as impassive as her reply.
Chakotay frowned. There was deinitely a problem here, but he knew she
wasn’t about to tell him what it was now. This was going to take sometime.
He shrugged his shoulders and headed for the door. At the door, though, he
paused.
“It might interest you to know Ensign that I was aware of your duties
and had included a similar suggestion in this week’s personnel report to the
Captain. If you had come to me, I would have taken your request to Captain
Janeway immediately, with my complete support.” He shook his head and left
the room.

Returning to his own quarters, Chakotay restlessly paced the floor.
What could be the source of the Ensign’s animosity? He had had no complaints
from the three Maquis serving with her; so the division between the crews was
apparently not the cause. *Which leaves me, and I’d never set eyes on her
before I came aboard,* he thought. Sitting down at his desk, he called up the
crew’s personal history.
“Let’s see,” he muttered to himself. “Jemison, Hannah, Ensign. Born
on Starbase 74. Father: Jemison, Lee, Lt. Commander; Mother: Finn, Anara;
Brother: Jemison, Chandler, Lt., deceased. A regular Starfleet family.
“Graduated the year before Ensign Kim and spent her first year on the
Cochrane before transferring to Voyager. Strange.” He sat back in his chair.
“As a potential science officer staying on the Cochrane or transferring to a
Nebula-class starship would have seemed the better career move. Her brother
died only six months before her transfer, I wonder-” Chakotay sat up and
touched one of the keys operating the viewer. “Lt. Chandler Jemison, temporary
assignment, USS Galileo, runabout class, destroyed in action on the Cardassian-
Federation border. Destroyed in action?” The words echoed through his head.
Suddenly, everything fell into place; her transfer, her hostility,
everything. The one time he had destroyed a Starfleet vessel. It still
sickened him to think about it; the tiny ship bursting into a million
glittering pieces. He was Maquis, but parts of him were still and probably
always would be Starfleet.
Through its own agents, the Commander was sure Starfleet had discovered
who was in charge of the Maquis ship involved, and if Starfleet knew, Jemison
probably knew. Now, she found herself serving under the man who was
responsible for the death of her brother. No wonder she was hostile; he would
be, too, in her position. He switched off the monitor and crossed over to his
bed. He lay down and stared up at the ceiling.
*It isn’t your duty to empathized; you have to find a way to make her
accept you as her commanding officer,* he told himself. Perhaps getting her
the promotion she deserved would be one way to start.

************* **************

“Captain’s Log. Stardate 48764.2. We have entered the Tomari system.
Two planets within this system are Class-M; preliminary scans reveal one to be
rich in geological resources and the other rich in animal and plant life.
I have decided to send a two man away team down to the former while Voyager
explores the latter for possible food sources.” Janeway looked up. “Come.”
Her first officer entered. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”
“Yes, Commander. I have decided that you and Lt. Jemison will beam
down to conduct a more intensive survey of the fourth planet’s surface.
We will return for you within twenty-four hours.”
“Understood, Captain.”
“Dismissed. And Commander, good luck.” She gave him an encouraging
smile, which he returned only partially.

They met in transporter room one.
“Ready, Lieutenant?” Cool and professional, that was the way to be.
“Yes, Commander,” came her terse reply.
He took a deep breath. This was not going to be a easy mission.
“Energize.”
A few seconds later, they materialized on the planet’s rocky surface.
Removing their tricorders, they began their substantial task silently.

Three hours into the survey, Hannah called out, “Commander!” She was
standing by the mouth of a cave. “I think I have something.”
Chakotay hurried over.
“Look at these readings!” Her tone, no longer cold, reflected the
excitement of discovery. “I think I may have found a large deposit of solid
deuterium! I haven’t heard of it existing in such a form before.”
He checked his own tricorder. “I think you may be right; this could
mean a real boost to the ship’s energy reserves. Good work, Lieutenant.”
Before he caught himself, he shot her an approving smile, which she did
not return.
Putting on their arm lights, they advanced into the cave, and began
scanning the walls. The deposits seemed to be located within the rock walls
of several tunnels. Hannah took several samples from the mouth of one of the
tunnels using a laser pick, while Cakotay aimed his tricorder down one of the
opposing corridors. *The ore within the walls is making scanning more than a
few meters difficult, which means Voyager will probably have trouble locating
us if we get trapped in here,* he reminded himself.
“Almost an eighty percent purity rate.” He heard her mutter. “This
should make processing the ore relatively easy. Hey, what the- AAAaahh!”
He turned to see a large clawed paw slash across the Lieutenant’s face
and neck, knocking her to the ground. As the rest of the beast emerged from
the darkness, Chakotay drew his weapon and fired. A howl of pain ripped
through the caverns, and the animal retreated into the darkness.
Running over to where Jemison lay unconscious, he saw that she was
bleeding profusely from the wounds on her neck. Picking her up, he carried
her outside to relative safety. He lay her down on the ground and placed his
fingers on her neck to slow the bleeding. *Damn!* He fumbled one-handed in
the medikit for a medical tricorder. *Damn! If I can’t get this bleeding
stopped, she may die. And I WON’T let that happen.*
Luckily, the readings allayed his worse fears; the slash on her neck
had missed both the jugular and the carotid artery. While the wound was
serious, it was not as life threatening as he had first thought. Taking out
the autosuture and bandages, he began to clean and patch the wounds as best
he could.

Moving her away from the cave and closer to the transporter
coordinates, he began constructing the tiny emergency shelter they had brought
and gathering wood for a fire. Voyager should return in about ten hours, but
with her injuries, he preferred to err on the side of caution. A soft moan,
though, made him return to her side.
“Easy, Lieutenant.” He gently removed her hand from the bandages.
“I’m no medic; so I don’t know how much exploration those wrappings can take.”
She slowly blinked her eyes. “I feel weak,” she slurred. “And my
head hurts.”
“That’s understandable. I wanted to wait until you were more conscious
before giving you anything for the pain; I didn’t want to risk suppressing your
nervous system too much.”
She grimaced as he turned her head slightly to administer the hypo-
spray to the uninjured side. *Off all the people-* she stopped. It hurt too
much to think. She closed her eyes.
“Lieutenant.” He called her back from the darkness. “I’m going to be
setting up camp. I won’t be far away; so call if you need anything.”
*Like hell, I will,* she thought, but answered, “Yes, Commander.”

An hour or so later, Chakotay had a fire going, and glancing from time
to time at his sleeping patient, he watched the smoke weave its way up into the
sky. Memories of fireside ceremonies crept up on him. The smells, the
surrounding darkness, the beautiful spirits within the smoke and flames.
A homesick smile appeared on his lips.
“Commander.”
The sound of her voice made him jump. Going over to where she lay,
he peered into her face. The grey eyes were no longer cold and hostile;
instead, he saw fear. He touched her shoulder reassuringly. “What is it,
Lieutenant?”
“My entire body aches; the muscles are sore, like when you get a
cold, only worse.” Her voice trembled.
He put his hand on her thigh and gave it a little squeeze right
above the knee. She cried out in pain, and he frowned. The muscle felt tight
and warm through the fabric of her uniform.
Grabbing the medical tricorder, he made a quick scan of her body.
“It appears that some bacterial infection has invaded your body.
I can only guess that it came from the animal that struck you. Your immune
system is reacting and trying to fight off the infection. I’ll give you
a dose of antibiotic, but that’s about all I can do until Voyager arrives.”
He looked down at her frightened face. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I wish I could
do more.”
She closed her eyes as he administered the drug. *Oh gods, I’m
going to die; I’m going to die with Him.* She felt tears roll down her face;
she hadn’t even realized she was about to cry. A soft cloth wiped them away,
as a strong hand grasped her own.
“Listen to me, Lieutenant.” She heard him say. “You are going to
make it. I am not going to let you die.”
“Yeah, sure,” she responded. “You just don’t want another Jemison
death on your conscience, if you have one. What are you going to do? Save
me the same way you saved Chandler?” She opened her eyes to see the damage
her volley had done.
Instead, Chakotay maintained his grip and gently brushed her brow with
his free hand. “Lieutenant,” he began softly, staring deeply into her eyes.
“You may not believe me, but I never intended or wanted to destroy the
Galileo. When I quit Starfleet to join the Maquis, I made a promise to myself
to never destructively engage any Starfleet ships or personnel except in
self-defense or in defense of my crew. And even then, to avoid the use of
deadly force if at all possible. I may not have approved of the way the
Federation sold us out, but I knew too many good people in Starfleet to
want to use all-out violence against them.”
She closed her eyes. Liar. He couldn’t have regretted Chandler’s
death; she had hated him far too long to believe that. “What made you break
your promise?”
“I didn’t.”
Her eyes flew open, burning with rampant hatred. “But you killed-”
“Believe me, Hannah. I didn’t want to destroy the Galileo.” He was
almost pleading. “Yes, I fired on the ship. I admit that, but I didn’t use
full phasers. I swear I didn’t. I couldn’t; our phaser banks and sensors
had already been damaged by their phaser fire. The only way we could’ve
destroyed them was if our blast started a chain reaction inside the ship, but
since our sensors were inoperable, I have no way of knowing for sure.
“Lieutenant.” His voice was still soft, but no longer pleading.
“Not a day goes by that I don’t regret mistakes I’ve made, and firing on the
Galileo was not a mistake. But destroying it was, and it’s a consquence I will
have to live with the rest of my life. I’m sorry; I never meant to kill your
brother.” He released her hand and moved back to the fire.

A little later, he managed to get some fluids in her. Her fever was
starting to climb, as her immune system tried to fight off the invading
bacteria. Covering her with a blanket from the medikit, he watched her
drift off to sleep.
Within a few hours, she was awoken by the uncontrollable shivering
of chills. She was sweating profusely and her temperature had soared to
102.5 degrees.
“I’m-m-m so c-c-cold,” she chattered, as he gave her another dose of
antibiotic, followed by some water.
Chakotay picked her up and moved her closer to the fire before laying
down beside her and taking her in his arms.
“Don’t.” She protested, placing a weak hand against his chest.
“Don’t what? Warm you? Forget it, Lieutenant. At this point, I don’t
care if you hate me or not, but you will let me hold you. That’s an order.”
He stated brusquely and pulled her trembling form into his chest.
Eventually, she stopped shaking and dropped off into a hallucinating
sleep. He heard her murmur disjointed phrases and occasionally call out names.
Mom, Dad, Chandler, the Captain, and finally, his, not Commander, but Chakotay.
He had never heard her speak it before; calling him only Commander kept things
that much more impersonal between them.
Raising up slightly, he reached for the tricorder. She was still
sweating and felt much warmer than earlier. *Damn! 104 degrees.* She was
successfully fighting off the infection, but her body couldn’t stay at this
temperature much longer. She was already partially dehydrated. He had to find
some way of cooling her down.
A quick reconnaissance sweep of the area revealed a small pond about
twenty-five meters away which was reasonably free of contaminants. Remembering
old folktales about immersing people in ice, he returned to the camp and
carried Hannah down to the water’s edge.
Removing her boots and uniform, he cut off her turtleneck so as not
to disturb the bandages. For a moment, he stared suddenly aware of her
nearly nude form. Because of her vitriolic attitude and his own command
position, he realized he had never really noticed her as a woman before.
“Paetah,” he swore at himself, ashamed of his instinctive response.
“Poocuh,” he continued as he removed his own boots. Gathering her up into
his arms, he carried her into the cool water and suspended her vertically
in his grasp so that she was submerged up to her chest.
For several minutes, Chakotay held her this way; her lifeless arms on
his shoulders, her head against his chest. Then, as he felt his own limbs
begin to go numb, she stirred. He brought her back to the shore and
wrapped her in the blanket. He was gathering the clothes when he heard
Janeway’s familiar voice.
“Voyager to away team.”
“Chakotay here, Captain. Two for emergency beam to sickbay on my
coordinates.”
“Acknowledged.”

“Report, Doctor.” The Captain strode quickly into the ship’s medical
facility.
“Lt. Jemison has suffered a serious bacterial infection as well as
lacerations to her face and neck. However, thanks to Commander Chakotay’s
care,” The Doctor nodded toward the Indian. “I believe she will make a full
recovery. Her temperature is currently at 100.7 degrees and continues to
descend at a normal rate. As soon as she gets stronger, I will begin
reconstructive surgery on the cuts. Now Commander,” He turned to address
Chakotay who still stood by the side of the biobed. “In light of your drenched
clothes and chattering teeth, I recommend that you have a hot bath and change
before I have to treat you for pneumonia.”
The Captain looked at her barefoot first officer and smiled. “That’s
an order, Commander. Good job.”
“Yes, Captain.” With a parting glance at his patient, he left.

Hannah looked in the mirror. She had just taken a shower and dried her
hair. The four pink streaks on her face and neck were barely visible, and in
a day or two, they would even disappear. The Doctor had done a superb job.
She put her hands in her hair and held it up. *Should I wear my hair
up or down, today?* she wondered, watching he shoulder length hair fall softly
down to frame her face. It would be her first day back on duty since
the attack.
Her subordinates had visited her during the past few days to bring her
up-to-date on what was happening, and she had been gratified to learn that her
discovery of deuterium had allowed Voyager to double, almost triple, it’s
energy reserves. Even the Captain, herself, had stopped by to commend her for
the discovery and see how she was doing. The only person who hadn’t been by
was the Commander.
The Doctor had said that he had come by once when she was sleeping in
sickbay, but not after that. To be honest, she wasn’t sure whether to be
relieved or not; eventually, they would run into each other, and she did owe
him her life. If he had been the one injured, would she have been as caring?
The answer she sometimes received disturbed her.
*How do you, how can you apologize to someone who saved your life in
spite of how you treated them?* she silently asked her reflection. Over the
past few days, she had had time to think over what he had said to her, and
she had come to accept that he wasn’t the cold-blooded killer her hatred had
created him to be. He was human, like herself, full of both pride and regret
about his past.
The door chime interrupted her musings. “Come in.”
She stepped out of the bathroom, still wearing her white robe, to find
herself face to face with Chakotay.
“Commander.”
“Lieutenant.” *She’s attractive with her hair down like that,* he
thought as he stepped towards her. He cupped her chin in his hand and turned
her face slightly. “The Doctor has done quite a good job. In a few days, no
one will be able to tell what happened.
“I stopped by to see how you were doing,” he continued, relinquishing
his hold. “It’s my understanding that you are now fit to return to duty.”
“Yes sir,” she nodded. “In fact, if I don’t get dressed I’ll be late
for my shift.”
He looked down suddenly aware of her robe, and he felt a slight flush
creep over his face as the memory of her body flashed before his eyes.
Feeling a little uncomfortable herself, she muttered, “Excuse me,”
before snatching up her uniform and disappearing back into the bathroom.
“Paetah,” he chastized himself under his breath.
“I’m sorry, sir; I didn’t catch that,” she called.
“Nothing, Lieutenant. Just muttering to myself; I guess I’m getting
old,” he half-joked. *Too old to let foolish thoughts affect your job and
cloud your judgement,* he added silently.
“Old?” Fully dressed, she emerged from the adjoining room. “I
wouldn’t say that. You couldn’t be more than two or three years older than
my-” She caught herself, but they both knew what her next word would
have been. She dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mention him.”
“Don’t be. He was your brother, and no matter what happens, nothing
will ever change that fact.”
“I know.” She looked up and focused on nothing in particular off to
his left. “It’s just that-”
He could tell what she was trying to say. *Apologizing is never easy,
is it?* he reflected. “It’s okay, Lieutenant. I understand; you don’t have
to say it.”
“No, sir.” She shook her head and gazed at him. “I want to. I-”
She dropped her eyes again and took a deep breath. “I want to say I’m sorry
for how I’ve acted toward you in the past. It was unprofessional and not
how a Starfleet officer should behave. And I also want to thank you for saving
my life.” She looked up and extended her hand.
“It’s all right, Lieutenant,” he said grasping her hand. “You would
have done the same for me.”
“You think so, sir? I’m really not too sure.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “I know so,
Lieutenant. You’re a Starfleet officer, and a damn good one from what I’ve
seen. Your brother would have been proud. Now, I believe you said
something about being late.”
Hannah smiled at him for the first time. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”
She headed for the door with him in pursuit.

The End?