Summary: Kathryn Janeway investigates the Belle Colony mystery only to find herself in hot water. This story takes place about 21 months after Voyager’s return (three months after Draxxon).
Siberia (a Belle Colony A/U story)
By mizvoy
“That should be everything.” Admiral Kathryn Janeway placed the last of her personal items in a Starfleet shoulder bag, sealed it, and glanced around the echoing, empty office. She was weary and a headache was threatening to explode behind her left eye. She’d spent forty-eight hours telling her family goodbye only to rush back to San Francisco and pack her entire office in a single day. Her work had been fueled by anger and self-righteous resentment for the quick punitive reassignment she’d been given to a job half a quadrant away from headquarters. “So much for my illustrious career.”
“I believe that this assignment will prove to be a minor setback, Admiral.” Tuvok stood quietly in front of the desk, waves of much-needed serenity flowing from him. “You’ll have this back someday, if you want it.”
“I’ve wanted this all my life, Tuvok.” She gestured at the room, her voice wistful. “A corner office in Federation Hall. Real mahogany desk and paneling. Unimpeded view of San Francisco Bay.”
“That getting the office was important to you, I have no doubt.” Tuvok’s eyebrow moved upward. “However, keeping the office has obviously been less important. In spite of Admiral Hayes’s warnings to stop at once, you persisted with your inquiries into Belle Colony until he was forced to take action.”
She smirked. “You know how I can be. Warning me to stay out of something usually makes me that much more determined to stay in it.”
“A very human response, but not one that’s conducive to keeping a corner office in Federation Hall.”
“Obviously not.” She laughed and put the bag over her shoulder with a sigh of resignation. “Walk with me to the transporter station?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He fell in step beside her as they made their way out of the building.
The September evening was glorious. Unsure of when she’d be on Earth again, Janeway drank in the stunning honey gold sunshine, the brilliant blue sky, the pink and orange clouds, and the gentle breeze that lifted her hair. Janeway was relieved to find the grounds deserted as they walked slowly through the gardens. She wasn’t anxious to draw attention to her reassignment with the usual farewell banquet, preferring to leave quietly and avoid bringing the spotlight onto her recent defiant behavior. As her mother had reminded her earlier in the day, there are times when it’s better to fold your tents and quietly slip away.
“Admiral,” Tuvok said after several minutes of comfortable silence, “you shouldn’t be disheartened about this reassignment. Your transfer, while sudden, isn’t a true demotion. Serving as military attaché for the ambassador along the volatile boundary with the Utav Union is perfectly suited to your Delta Quadrant experience and will have long-range impact in our dealings with the entire region.”
She smiled at him in gratitude. So often, perhaps because of their many years of friendship, he was able to sense exactly the issue that troubled her and mollify her misgivings. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Tuvok, but leaving the Romulan desk at headquarters to take a job on the outermost Federation border feels more like banishment to me.”
“Think of it as an opportunity to excel. Ambassador Tydtk needs a firm hand and a level-headed advisor if he hopes to mediate a peaceful conclusion to the Union/Toroyan war.”
“He’s a loose cannon, all right.” She frowned as she remembered the caustic comments her predecessor’s logs—the ambassador was resistant to conflicting opinions, unwilling to consider second or third options, driven by an agenda of his own. “I’m afraid his obvious preference for Unionists makes the Toroyans perceive us as another enemy instead of an unbiased mediator.”
“A valid concern and one I’m sure you’ll address as soon a possible.”
She stopped and stared at him, dreading the idea of having to submit to an irrational ambassador’s control when she was so used to being in charge. After so many years on her own, she found it irksome to be subordinate to someone she didn’t respect and couldn’t trust. “I have a bad feeling about this assignment, Tuvok.”
He stopped several yards ahead of her on the sidewalk and returned her stare. “Like you, I’m apprehensive about the ambassador’s attitude. But, you’re an astute and incisive diplomat with a great deal of experience at working in isolation.”
“Isolation isn’t what I’m worried about, Tuvok. I’d much rather be on my own than struggling to keep my boss from setting the autodestruct program.”
“You’ll find that Lieutenant Commander Brooks will be an able assistant to you. She’s a fine security officer whom I recommended after considerable thought.”
“And I appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, I wish I could have you with me instead. Or Chakotay.” For a moment, she wanted to throw her arms around him and bemoan her fate, but she knew that such an emotional outburst would make the Vulcan even more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead she pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, hoping to shield her friend from the tears that filled her eyes. “You know that they refused to let me name anyone from Voyager to my personal staff.”
Tuvok almost smiled. “Clearly, separating the crew is another objective that this ‘banishment’ is supposed to accomplish.”
“I wonder if people appreciate just how close we are after seven years together.”
“It seems that they take too lightly the bond we share.”
Her eyes focused on a spot somewhere over his right shoulder. “I’m relieved that my recent activities haven’t damaged anyone else’s reputation. At least, not yet.”
“We’ve been able to hide behind the pretense of following your orders. As your long-term subordinates, we’re obviously accustomed to yielding to the directives of a peculiar and inflexible former commander.”
“Is that so?” She closed the distance between them, stopping to look up at him with a crooked grin on her face. “What a burden I’ve been to you all.”
“Indeed. However, by blaming you for our actions, we are able to remain at your disposal.”
She was tired, and his unconditional friendship threatened to overpower her emotional control. “I’m truly humbled by your loyalty to me and to Chakotay, Tuvok. Your devotion and that of the crew is precious to me.”
“From nearly the first days of our time in the Delta Quadrant, our allegiance was personal in nature.”
She brushed a tear from her eye. “Do you believe me when I say that he’s alive?”
“I believe that you believe he’s alive.”
She laughed and shook her head in dismay. “A fine distinction. And your ‘belief in my belief’ is reason enough to risk of being seen with me?” She laughed again at his unchanged expression. “You can trust me on this one, Tuvok. He’s alive.”
“I’ve always trusted you, Admiral. I also believe that if he’s alive, you’ll find him.”
“Damn straight.” She started walking again, her quick pace revealing her impatience, and then she turned and put her fists on her hips. “I’m going to find him, and then I’m going to kill him.”
The tiny smile that crossed Tuvok’s face made Janeway laugh out loud. She waited for him to catch up with her and pulled her arm through his, an act of familiarity unusual with Vulcans and indicative of their long friendship. “You will keep those pointed ears to the ground, won’t you?”
“We’ll all remain vigilant, Admiral. Surely you know that.”
“Don’t do anything to draw attention to your efforts. Passive scans only.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Advice we gave you after we left Draxxon, as I recall.”
“I know. Advice I ignored.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Draxxon gave me a renewed sense of urgency, that’s all.”
“Indeed.”
Before Janeway would agree to leave Draxxon, she’d demanded that they remain in orbit for a few days and run extensive scans for human DNA. In the meantime, members of the crew visited the surface to ask about a man with a tattoo, the Caritas, or any other shred of information that would confirm that her encounter with her former first officer was more than an injury-induced hallucination.
But, their search for information had been futile. Even Tom Paris, who had long been acknowledged as the greatest gossip collector on Voyager, had come back empty handed. Janeway hadn’t really been surprised; the Caritas wouldn’t be well liked by the mercenaries, since they gave away the critical supplies that could bring exorbitant profits—medicine, food, equipment. No one admitted to having heard of the Caritas. No one had any information about a bunch of “do-gooders.” No one had seen a human with a tattoo on his face. They’d hit a dead end.
Tuvok had finally prevailed upon her to return to Federation space, but no one couldn’t stop her from immediately following up on the single piece of new information they’d learned about Belle Colony—the strange emissions that the Cardassians had detected. It was that line of inquiry that had been the last straw for the admiralty and brought about her reassignment.
Janeway sighed. “Who would have imagined that a few innocent queries about emissions would bring about my immediate transfer to the boondocks?”
“I believe the transfer was the end result of several ‘innocent’ queries, Admiral.” Tuvok gave her an appraising look, and Janeway held her breath, waiting for him to harass her again about the information she refused to share with him. Instead, he sighed and lowered his voice. “Obviously the emissions are not only a sore point for someone in a position of authority, they’re also an issue worthy of further study.”
“Not by you.” She glared at him. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”
Janeway had started her investigation by reading every shred of information on Belle Colony that she could find in the public record. She’d been amazed that the installation had escaped official notice for most of its existence and had never once been mentioned in the popular press prior to its destruction. Food and materiel had been delivered to the planet, but there was an almost total absence of transport ships or communication traffic, as if the miners had no one in the Federation who might be concerned about their well-being. The minerals taken from the mining activities had been loaded onto freighters, but, from what she could tell, had never been unloaded anywhere, as if they had evaporated en route-or never really existed.
These innocent, preliminary searches were ignored by the admiralty, a fact that emboldened her to extend her research into less accessible areas. Her next step was to pry into classified and confidential records about the Colony and seek out individuals who might have first-hand knowledge of what had really transpired there. She used Tuvok’s contacts in security and her own command codes to trace any leads she could find, but soon found herself seated in Admiral Hayes’ office for the first of several informal “talks” that were liberally laced with friendly warnings. She nodded and smiled, of course, but she wasn’t about to be dissuaded.
Her visit to Belle Colony’s ruins was a breech of protocol that precipitated the first of a series of ominous run-ins with the admiralty. The planet was off limits to all visitors, and yet Janeway had rounded up several members of Voyager’s senior staff and had traveled to the ruins. They had remained in orbit for several days and had spent long hours on the surface looking for clues, but had found nothing remarkable. The destruction had been amazingly complete, and the caustic atmosphere had burned away any trace of biomatter that might have remained.
When she returned, Hayes called her to his office, stood her at attention in front of his desk, and lectured her for twenty minutes about the fact that she was no longer in the Delta Quadrant, that she had to learn to follow orders, and that she must respect the regulations that placed a location like Belle Colony on restricted access. She nodded and smiled again, even as her plan to meet the Caritas on Draxxon was taking form in her head.
Their ship had barely left orbit around Draxxon when Janeway had received a secure subspace message from Admiral Hayes. She’d taken the comm in the privacy of her quarters, but, even so, he’d been so angry with her boldness that his angry voice had echoed through every deck of the ship. Nonetheless, Janeway was undaunted by the blistering reprimand or her friends’ good advice to back off. She had barely finished her next cup of coffee before she had told Seven of Nine to access any and all sensor scans of Belle Colony’s sector-and especially any that were done of the Colony itself.
When they discovered that there were no such scans available, Janeway felt an even bigger sense of urgency, for this was a red flag. Why wouldn’t there be records of the mining colony? What was being hidden from view? After a few weeks of careful contemplation, Janeway finally realized that the only scans available might be the long-range scans taken by Cardassian vessels captured during the Dominion War. And so, she had used her command codes to break into the highly-classified Cardassian data bases, compiling a dozen or so scans before she realized that she all she needed. Even a cursory review revealed the secret, and she hadn’t needed an engineer to explain what she was seeing.
Belle Colony wasn’t a mining community. It was a laboratory dedicated to the research of illegal phased cloak devices.
Janeway had barely had time to finish reviewing the Cardassian scans before she’d been summoned to Admiral Hayes’s office. He had been furious about her access of classified records, had put a written reprimand in her file for her “continued pattern of insubordination,” and had informed her of an immediate reassigned her to duty to the farthest regions of Federation space where she would serve as Ambassador Tydtk’s military attaché. Hayes had made it clear that leaking anything she suspected about Belle Colony would end her Starfleet career and possibly result in her arrest for treason.
And so, here she was-on her way to the ship that would send her into exile. She’d been properly chastised, but her curiosity had been fanned to white hot temperatures. She consoled herself by thinking that her punishment could have been much worse, that she was still in a position to continue her investigation when the opportunity presented itself, but she was anxious to find out more as soon as possible.
They arrived at the transport station where Tuvok, stoic as ever, coolly regarded her. “I know that I speak for everyone from Voyager when I say that you’ll be missed.”
“I hope I won’t be gone all that long.” She smiled. “And I would be fighting this transfer if the Caritas didn’t operate near Union territory.”
“You think you might run into someone you know.”
“I hope so.”
“As do I.” He led her into the building, dismissed the transport operator, and entered the codes needed to beam her to McKinley station. She took her place on the transporter pad and patiently waited for him to program the device, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. At last, he looked up at her, his left hand hovering over the console.
“Peace and long life, Admiral,” he intoned, holding his right hand up in the traditional Vulcan salute.
She returned the salute, struggling to repress a sob. “Live long and prosper, Tuvok.”
He activated the transport, but then jerked back as blue bolts of energy danced across the controls and threatened to burn his hands. Janeway cried out in distress as the mechanism malfunctioned and twisted in pain before she finally disappeared in a gray spiral of smoke and flame. In the sudden silence, Tuvok heard her commbadge roll off of the transporter pad and onto the floor.
The frigid subzero temperature hovered just outside the temporary shelter like a monster. Inside the wind-buffeted walls, a pile of superheated rocks provided a wavering envelope of warmth and threw a minimal red glow on the shelter’s two occupants. Ramon Cabrera studied the bundled unconscious figure lying on the other side of the rocks and marveled at the ferocity of the late winter, sub arctic weather.
Cabrera hadn’t visited Earth in over six years, and while the environment was as hostile as space itself, he relished breathing the atmosphere of his home world for the few hours he could risk staying there. Shivering with cold, he used his phaser to reheat the rocks and noticed two eyes staring at him in confusion. He activated a small lantern that doubled the ambient light and grinned at the scowl on his prisoner’s face.
“So, Admiral Janeway,” he said, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders, “now you see how easily you can be taken against your will.”
Janeway struggled against the sleeping bag that cocooned her before she gave up and settled into the warmth, too exhausted and disoriented to fight. She had no idea where she was or how long she’d been unconscious. All she could remember was a painful transport that would haunt her for the rest of her life. The man watching her was barely visible in the minimal light. In spite of the fact that he’d kidnapped her, Janeway sensed little to fear in his glittering black eyes. She said, “Who are you? Are you part of Section 31?”
“No, Admiral, I’m Ramon Cabrera, not that my name would mean anything to you.” He knelt down close beside her so she could see the deep laugh lines around his eyes and gave her a reassuring smile, his teeth a brilliant white against his tanned skin. “I could be from Section 31, though. If I could snatch you from the Commander Tuvok’s protective grasp, they certainly could.”
Janeway struggled again, only to close her eyes when vertigo threatened to spin her into unconsciousness. “What do you want from me?” she asked through gritted teeth.
He opened her sleeping bag and reached for the bindings that kept her hands tethered to her side. “I’ll release you if you promise to listen without causing trouble. You wouldn’t get far out there any way.”
She shrugged. “What choice do I have?” Once her hands were free, she sat up and pulled the sleeping bag around her shoulders. The wind hit the shelter so hard that expected to be airborne at any moment and tumbling like a snowball down a hill. “Where are we, anyway?”
“It’s an old deserted Antarctic base, nice and remote. It’s also very close to the southern magnetic pole, which will confuse the scans of the Starfleet officers who are, no doubt, frantically searching for their missing admiral.” He busied himself with his supplies, pulling out a cylindrical container and handing it to her. “This is hot, so be careful.”
She reached for the mug, only to realize that her hands were in mittens and that she was wearing a heavy parka. She gazed down at herself in amazement. “How . . . ?”
“I didn’t want you to freeze to death, Admiral. There’s important work to accomplish out there, and you are the only person who can do it.”
“Broth.” She sipped the hot liquid with gratitude. “‘Out there’? You’re aware of my transfer?”
“I have friends in Starfleet. Actually, Admiral, we have a lot in common.”
“Really?” She studied him, reminding herself that in spite of her intuitive trust of him, he’d managed to divert a secure transport beam directed between the heart of Starfleet Command and McKinley station, and that made him a dangerous man.
“More than you’d imagine.” Cabrera settled back into his own blankets. “As soon as your first officer disappeared, I knew we were destined to meet. It was just a matter of time.”
Her eyes widened. “This is about Belle Colony.”
“Of course. When I heard of your impending transfer to Siberia, I knew I had to hurry to talk to you before it was too late.” He studied her, a look of admiration in his eyes. “You’re getting close to the truth, much closer than anyone ever has before. You’ve scared them.”
“Siberia? Isn’t that in Asia?”
“I was speaking metaphorically. At one time in Earth’s history, Siberia was where irate tyrants exiled political troublemakers in order to keep them from starting a rebellion.” He frowned. “You mentioned Section 31, so we’ll leave it at that. They’ve been hoping you’d eventually give up on this fixation you have with clearing your first officer. They underestimated your connection to him.”
In spite of her captivity, Janeway’s anger flared. “Listen . . . Cabrera, right? Chakotay and I worked together closely for seven years in the worst possible situations. My loyalty to him . . . .”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cabrera interrupted her with an exaggerated wink. “You don’t have to explain your loyalty to me, Admiral.”
She bit her tongue. To argue further that their relationship was purely professional would be to protest too much and convince him otherwise. “He didn’t deserve the treatment he received.”
“I agree, and I admire you for defending him.” Cabrera waited for her to relax. After a few moments, he continued, “When your search for facts finally led to the Cardassian scans, believe me, you set off alarms that made several powerful admirals very uncomfortable.”
“What are you talking about?” She’d been very cautious when she’d accessed the Cardassian scans. In fact, Hayes had told her that her discretion had kept her from being forcibly retired from active duty. Nor had she shared her outrageous conclusion with Tuvok, because she finally understood that Belle Colony was a dangerous, traitorous secret and that anyone who knew the truth about it had dangerous enemies.
“You were so patient, waiting until after the Voyager debriefings and your promotion to begin your investigation. You lulled them into complacency. When they announced that Chakotay was dead, they figured you’d drop your quest to exonerate him because it was a hopeless gesture. But then . . . you went to Draxxon, and something happened there that made you impatient.” She stared at him with her mouth open. “I have a good idea just who you saw there. Or who you think you saw.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Like you, Admiral, I’m obsessed with Belle Colony. I just don’t have the luxury of looking for information with your careless abandon.”
She bristled. “Careless abandon?”
“What else can you call it? You’ve acted as if what happened is a matter of public record, when it’s really a matter of deadly secrecy.”
“Why are you obsessed with Belle Colony? Did you live there at one time? Did you know someone who died there?”
“Not exactly.” He put the lid back on his empty mug and tossed it into his bag before looking at her with a heartbreaking expression. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Coquille.”
She caught her breath. “The Coquille? The first ship to arrive after the explosion, right?”
He nodded. “You wanted to talk to someone from that ship.”
“Oh, I did. Its captain was Mary Pat Mulroney, a classmate of mine at the academy, so I wanted very much to ask her about it. But the Coquille was one of the first ships lost in the days leading up to the Dominion War. Lost, with all hands.”
“Except one.” He glanced away, his eyes tortured. “Me.”
“You? You were assigned to the Coquille?”
“I was the operations officer, Admiral.”
“But . . . the ship was destroyed with no survivors.”
“That’s what the official record says. I was rescued and spent most of the war in a Bajoran refugee camp.”
Janeway was surprised at his desertion of duty. “You didn’t try to return to Starfleet?”
“At that point, Admiral, I felt I was in as much danger from Starfleet as I was from the Cardassians.” He smiled at her look of disbelief. “Maybe you’ll understand better after I tell you the whole story.”
Janeway drained her mug and pulled the sleeping bag around her shoulders, snuggling into its warmth. She had a feeling that she was going to be very interested in what Cabrera had to say. “I apparently have plenty of time to listen.”
Later, when she thought back to Cabrera’s story, Janeway remembered feeling a gradual warming of her temper and her body, even though the temperature remained as frigid as ever in the tiny shelter. She’d watched the emotions play across Cabrera’s handsome features and had seen the pain and anger that filled his eyes; he’d reminded her of Chakotay as he’d been when they’d first met in the Delta Quadrant—angry and barely restrained, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
“We patrolled the Badlands region of the Cardassian border for a year before the Belle Colony explosion,” he began. “From the first, the Colony was treated differently than any other Federation installation I’ve ever seen. We were prohibited from scanning the Colony if we were closer than 25 light years, and even then the data collected was not to be studied or archived, but automatically deleted from the computer. It was the only facility in our patrol area that we didn’t visit personally, and, in fact, were prohibited from approaching on a direct vector. We asked the captain why we were getting such strange orders, but she had no explanation other than the fact that they were supposedly testing some top-secret atmospheric mining innovations.”
When Janeway snorted at that remark, Cabrera put a finger to his lips. “Never say what you know out loud, Admiral. You never know who’s listening.”
She stilled, hearing the howling gale outside and imagining how far they must be from civilization. “Not really?”
“They’re everywhere, Admiral, on every ship, every installation, every outpost. Never underestimate their reach or their determination.”
Janeway nodded. “And you’re hiding from them?”
“They think I’m dead.” He ducked his head in shame. “I should be dead.”
“Don’t say that. No one on Coquille would wish that on you.”
“I know they wouldn’t, Admiral. It’s just hard to be the only survivor.”
She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Tell me more.”
He took a deep breath. “As ops officer, I controlled the sensors, and I managed to glance at a few scans of Belle Colony before the computer deleted them. I didn’t have to look at many to figure out what was really going on there. And I didn’t have to imagine how explosive such research would be if it was ever made public.” He paused, shaking his head at the memory. “Of course, the captain found out about my snooping around. She called me into her ready room and chewed me out, told me to respect my orders and stop endangering the ship. That was when I realized that she, too, suspected what was really going on.
“I didn’t realize what she meant by ‘endangering the ship.’ How could knowing about Belle Colony put Coquille in danger?” He laughed in self-derision. “I was so naïve.”
“You weren’t naïve, Cabrera. You simply trusted Starfleet to do the right thing, as any Starfleet officer would.”
“That’s the definition of naïve in my book, Admiral. I decided that if the captain was aware of the situation, all I needed to do was mind my own business and leave the big problems to her. So, we went on with life as usual until a few days before the Belle Colony explosion happened. We received new orders. We were told that a threat had been directed toward an unnamed Federation outpost in our patrol area. We were sent to a specific sector and were ordered to intercept and destroy any Maquis ships that entered our sensor range.”
“You were ordered to destroy the ships? Not stop them or retain them?” Janeway didn’t want to believe her ears. She’d studied the orders sent to the Coquille prior to the explosion, and she’d seen nothing like that in the records.
“I saw the orders myself, Admiral.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Do you really think orders like that would be in the permanent record?”
She blinked in surprise. The implication that official records had been altered was another step toward the realm of distrust. “I don’t guess they would.”
“The sector we were to watch was directly between Belle Colony and the suspected location of a Maquis overhaul base near the Badlands. A Maquis vessel would have to pass through our sector to get back to safety.”
“Starfleet must have been expecting the Maquis raid in advance.” Janeway remembered what Chakotay had told her about a Starfleet contact who had given him security codes that facilitated their raid of Belle Colony’s warehouses. “It was a set-up.”
“I think so. Starfleet knew the approximate time the Maquis raid was supposed to occur, and they put Coquille in a position to pick up the Maquis ship as it was fleeing the area. We were supposed to jump to the conclusion that the Maquis caused the explosion and destroy the ship in retaliation.”
“But, your captain didn’t jump to the expected conclusion?”
“No, she didn’t. We picked up the Maquis ship at almost the exact moment the Colony exploded, and Captain Mulroney was suddenly faced with a choice: should she render aid to the victims or track down the Maquis?”
Janeway smiled. “I know what I’d do. The first obligation is to help those in danger.”
“And that’s what Mulroney did. She set course for Belle Colony with the hope that some of the occupants might have survived in the caves beneath the planet’s surface.”
“But there were no survivors.”
“No, there were no survivors. And by the time we realized that, the Maquis ship was long gone.” Cabrera fell silent for a few moments before he continued, talking so softly that Janeway had to lean forward and watch his lips to understand his meaning. His eyes were unfocused and troubled as he remembered the events that followed.
“We stayed in orbit awaiting reinforcements, but there wasn’t much we could do in the meantime, so we took advantage of the opportunity to look over this mysterious place. I personally ran a series of multi-spectral scans, most with a slant toward what I’d guessed was the Colony’s . . . real mission. But, I wasn’t the only one. I know for a fact that the engineer studied the source of the blast and the type of explosion. Medical scanned for biomatter. I don’t know what kept us from going to the surface and picking up samples of the dome material. Maybe we were lazy.” His eyes focused on Janeway’s for the briefest moment.
“None of that data is in Starfleet’s records,” Janeway commented. “That’s exactly what I’ve been looking for, but there’s nothing there.”
“No, I imagine not.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “A single Starfleet vessel joined us about eight hours after the explosion-not exactly the number of ships we expected we expected to come rushing to the rescue, but then we reasoned since there were no survivors, there was less of a need for urgency.
“As soon as the ship arrived, the captain was taken into custody and beamed to the other ship for questioning. The rumor circulated that she was severely reprimanded for failing to follow her orders and destroy the Maquis ship. We didn’t see her for three days, and while she was gone the crew was grilled repeatedly about what we knew about the colony. The computer was literally scoured for illegal information. I know I was interviewed three different times by six different people.
“All the scans we’d done on Belle Colony were erased from the computer and the memory was totally sanitized. They told us that our previous orders to avoid scanning the Colony hadn’t been rescinded and that our failure to follow those orders had put the Federation itself at grave risk.”
“What a strange thing to say.”
“Yeah. But, they had another, more serious problem on their hands. They could erase any incriminating information remained on the computer, but they couldn’t do anything about what the crew had seen during our stay in orbit. We could tell people what we saw, and even if we couldn’t prove anything, we could make people look into what went on out there.”
Janeway shook her head as she began to realize what she was hearing. “Are you implying that they wanted to get rid of the crew?”
“You tell me. Captain Mulroney resumed command of the ship. Our upcoming shore leave was cancelled, and the crew members who were supposed to rotate off the Coquille for training had their orders withdrawn. Instead, we were assigned the task of finding the Maquis maintenance base. Because our work was top secret, we weren’t allowed to contact our families. Starfleet informed them that we were on a special assignment of unknown duration. In fact, the only communication we had from that time on was with the ship that had joined us at Belle Colony.”
“Do you think the ship was from Section 31?”
“I have no way of knowing for sure, but it would make sense if it was. We spent a futile six weeks looking for the base. The Maquis had a great time confusing us any way they could. Their little ships ran rings around Coquille, which was a slower and less maneuverable ship.”
“So you were kept in deep space as punishment?”
“It was more than that, Admiral. Coquille was out of her element chasing the small, agile Maquis ships. And we were in constant danger from the growing hostility between them and the Cardassians. The only way we could discover the Maquis base’s location was to follow ships into the Badlands, even though taking the Coquille there was practically suicide.”
“Why would they deliberately put you in danger?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Someone was afraid that we’d tell what we knew about the Colony, and I think they were trying to decide how to handle it, how to keep us from talking. In the meantime, if the ship was lost while dealing with dangerous terrorists . . . .”
“I don’t believe it,” Janeway interrupted. “I don’t believe that Starfleet intended for your ship to be destroyed.”
“Not Starfleet, Admiral. Section 31. And anyway, whether they intended it or not, that’s what happened. I’m betting there’s no account of Coquille’s last mission.”
“Not that I could access.”
“We were following a Maquis vessel that ran and hid in the Badlands, but this vessel had the exact ion signature as the one that had raced away from Belle Colony. Mulroney was tired and frustrated by our weeks of exile, desperate to do something to get out of the doghouse, and I think she hoped that catching this particular ship would earn us a reprieve. She ordered Coquille to follow the Maquis into a relatively calm part of the storms.
“Unfortunately, our luck had run out. Coquille was caught in some sort of vortex that pulled it into a vicious storm wave. Our antimatter containment failed at once, and the warp core overloaded so fast that the captain didn’t even have time to shout ‘abandon ship’ before the core breeched.”
Janeway was silent for a long time. “How did you manage to survive?”
“I was working on a comm problem on the bridge that was near an escape pod, and I had crawled into the pod to see if its systems were also affected. The next thing I knew, the ship was shaking apart. I lost consciousness for a few seconds, and the pod’s door sealed, and I was ejected into space.”
“So, Starfleet thinks you went down with the ship.”
“Yeah, and I think that’s why I’m still around. During my stay at the refugee camp, I was able to see how the whole Belle Colony matter was being deliberately downplayed and misrepresented in the press. I knew that my reappearance would only make things worse.”
“You’ve taken a chance to see me, then.”
“I had to, Admiral. You’re like I was back then. You simply don’t understand the peril your actions have put you in. You’ve set off their alarms, and now they’re sending you to an explosive war zone in Union/Toroyan space, just as they sent Coquille into danger after we found out the truth.”
Janeway laughed. “You think Starfleet wants to eliminate me?”
“Section 31 isn’t the Starfleet you know, Admiral. At this point, they want you out of their hair and away from the middle of everything until they figure out how much you know and whether you’re going to cause trouble.”
“I’ll be back. I’m not going to give up until I can prove what really happened and Chakotay is home.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” He chuckled. “The other thing I need to tell you is this: you can turn this new assignment to your advantage. Occasionally I noticed some strange comings and goings in the Belle Colony sector . . . and I picked up signs of warp cores that had a Union signature.” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“You think the Unionists might be aware of the Colony’s . . . activities?”
“It’s just a guess, but you might be able to check it out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“One last thing. You noticed that the names of the three hundred people killed on Belle Colony were never released.”
“Yes, I did notice that.”
“Curious, don’t you think? ”
She frowned. “I don’t know what to believe, to be honest.”
“I think where you’re going might give you the chance to find out the rest of the story, Admiral. Just be careful, because they will do anything necessary to hide the truth. Now, I need to beam you to Australia. Starfleet will soon discover that your transport matter stream was inadvertently ‘diverted’ there.” He gave her am exaggerated wink. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you a few miles outside a settlement. The fact that you had to walk to civilization will explain why you were gone so long.”
“Aren’t you afraid that Section 31 will discover how you diverted the matter stream?”
Cabrera laughed. “Oh, they already know how I did that, Admiral, because I used their own equipment. But, they aren’t about to admit that they have the capability to divert transports so easily. Can you imagine Starfleet’s reaction if they knew Section 31 could kidnap anybody they wanted when they beamed into or out of San Francisco?”
Janeway shook her head in amazement. “Won’t they wonder who used their equipment to kidnap me?”
He looked up at her and grinned. “They’ll wonder, but they won’t ask. If they do, tell them the truth. Tell them it was a ghost.”
“A ghost?” Tuvok wasn’t pleased with the tired and dusty admiral who delighted in perplexing him.
He’d been frantic to find Janeway when she’d failed to rematerialize on McKinley station only to discover, hours after her disappearance, that she had walked into a remote village in northern Australia with a ridiculous story about her matter stream being diverted. After enduring a two-hour interview with Starfleet security, Tuvok had insisted on accompanying her on the beam-out from San Francisco to the ship awaiting her arrival at McKinley Station.
“I know you told the authorities that you were diverted to Australia, Admiral, and I’m surprised they swallowed your story. And now you expect me to believe that you talked to a ghost?”
“You found me in Australia, didn’t you?” Janeway peeled off her jacket and ordered a tall glass of water from the replicator, glancing around in approval at her quarters on the U.S.S. Hyperion. She looked forward to the long relaxing trip to Starbase 450 and the chance to think over all she’d heard in the last several hours. “The man said he was a ghost,” she smirked. “Who am I to disagree?”
Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “Admiral.”
“Tuvok.” She took a long drink of the water and collapsed on her sofa. One look at her old friend told her what he thought-that she’d been “talking” to Chakotay on her long walk back to civilization as if he were alive and walking with her. “I haven’t taken leave of my senses, I promise. Trust me when I say that you’re better off not knowing everything.”
“I have learned over the years, Admiral, that where you are concerned, ignorance is never bliss.” He perched on the chair across from her. “How can I help you if I’m unaware of your situation?”
“I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing you can do to help me at this point. I’ll let you know when and if I need you.” She finished her water and put the empty glass on the table. “If that’s all, Tuvok, you really should return to San Francisco. I know that the Hyperion has delayed their departure because of my detour, and besides, I need to shower and get some sleep.”
Tuvok hesitated. “Your misdirected transport has unsettled me, Admiral. I wonder if I’ll see you again.”
“I’m sorry you’re ‘unsettled.'” She gave him a crooked smile in an attempt to reassure him. “You’ll see me again, Tuvok, and probably sooner than you imagine possible.” He stood up, but made no move for the door, so Janeway stood, as well, casually taking the pips from her collar and holding them in her palm of her hand. “Is there something else on your mind?”
His eyes were determined, and she braced herself for his words. “I cannot tolerate being left out of the loop. I need to know what you know, Admiral. ”
“You. Do. Not.” Her voice was cool, and she emphasized her unwillingness to talk about it further by drawing a line across her throat as she did whenever she suspected that their communications were compromised. Tuvok looked around the room in surprise, as if it were ridiculous to suspect that someone would spy on an admiral while she was in her quarters on a Starfleet vessel. If this were Voyager, if they were still in the Delta Quadrant, she’d tell him everything without hesitation. But here in the Alpha Quadrant, as Cabrera had warned her, every wall had ears. “This is neither the time nor place for such a discussion, Tuvok.”
“If you insist,” he replied in resignation.
This wasn’t the first time since Voyager had arrived home that Janeway had felt that she was in hostile territory. If Cabrera hesitated to talk openly in a hut on the frozen plains of Antarctica, how much less secure would her quarters be on a Starfleet ship? “Do nothing until you hear from me.”
“Very well.” Janeway had never seen him so exasperated. “Remember to stay in regular contact.”
“You, too. I want you keep me informed about what everyone’s doing.”
Once Tuvok returned to the Earth’s surface, Janeway finally realized how exhausted she was. Nearly eight hours had passed since Cabrera had diverted her transport, and that meant that it was approaching three in the morning, late even by Janeway’s standards. Suppressing a yawn, she contacted her aide and informed him that she was retiring for the evening and would be sleeping in the next day. For once she was glad to leave the ship’s business to the captain while she soaked in a tub of hot water, sipped a glass of ice cold wine, and then slept for at least ten hours.
It was a relief to get out of her filthy, sweaty uniform and crawl into the warm fragrant water for some much-needed relaxation. Her walk back to civilization had given her plenty of time to reflect on every word Cabrera had spoken, every nuance of meaning she’d picked up from his tone of voice, every gesture he’d made, and every expression that had been on his handsome face. She couldn’t detect duplicity or treachery in what she remembered, even though she was anxious to discount the story he’d told her, desperate to find some reason to discredit his claim that a Starfleet organization had put an entire ship of innocent people in danger in an effort to cover up their illegal activities.
She slid down in the tub until her chin touched the water. Truth be told, it was her personal reaction to Cabrera bothered her. He had risked his life to warn her about the danger she was in, and she was grateful for that, but she was also troubled by her instant and automatic trust of him. The reason for that was easy enough to pinpoint. Ramon Cabrera had so resembled Chakotay in his coloring and in the softness of his voice that she’d trusted him without thinking and had let her emotions her while she was in his presence. She would have to be more careful about that sort of behavior in the future. She would have to be tougher, more analytical, or she would be at risk of being betrayed by a familiar-looking face.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the intercom. “Schuler to Janeway.”
In the background, Janeway could hear the bustle on the bridge as the ship prepared to leave McKinley station, a familiar sound of organized chaos that brought a smile to her face. What a chore it must be to have an admiral on board who had to be consulted about ship’s business. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“All personnel, personal effects, and supplies are on board. Our visitors have departed. McKinley personnel have returned to their duty stations. The ship has been cleared for immediate departure. What is your pleasure, Admiral?”
“By all means, Captain, let’s get underway.” Janeway sighed with relief. Her meeting with Cabrera had cost them several precious hours, and the ambassador would not be pleased if his new military attaché arrived late for her first day of work. “Best speed possible.”
Janeway closed her eyes and enjoyed the nearly-imperceptible sensations of a ship leaving space dock, the slight jar when released from the station’s docking clamps, the switch from umbilical to ship’s power, the shiver of the impulse engine, and then the steady heartbeat of the warp core coming online. She noticed a gentle rocking motion in the bath water and a hum in the power relays hidden in the walls that made her feel right at home. It was good to be back in space again.
The warm caress of the water was soothing after the frigid cold of Antarctica and the arduous hike in the tropical heat of Australia, and Janeway was growing drowsy. Afraid she might fall asleep and drown in the bath water, she crawled out of the tub, finished her bedtime routine, and slipped into bed.
In spite of her exhaustion, sleep wouldn’t come. She lay there watching the stars stream by as she had for years on Voyager, turning the issues that worried her over and over in her mind. She needed to simplify what she knew and then look at their implications. Until she’d settled this in her mind, sleep wouldn’t come.
First, Belle Colony had been an illegal research facility dedicated to the development of phased cloaks in direct violation of the Treaty of Algeron. The research must have gone on for all five years of the Colony’s existence, but how successful their research had been was a complete unknown, and she could think of no way to find out. Had they perfected the cloak? Had they developed personal cloaks as well as ones large enough to hide a ship? Or a base? Suddenly uneasy, she gazed around her quarters and then outside of the ship. There could be a person standing beside her bed if a phased cloak had been perfected. There could there be a ship traveling beside the Hyperion, shadowing their every move. She shivered at the thought.
Second, the Maquis had been lured to Belle Colony for the specific purpose of blaming them for its subsequent destruction. How could the Maquis resist the chance to take supplies that were so desperately needed? Chakotay had sworn to her that the Maquis had not intentionally damaged the installation, and Tom Riker had found no evidence that Seska’s Cardassian superiors had ordered her to destroy it. There could only be one other explanation: Starfleet, or more accurately, Section 31 had destroyed the Colony themselves, either because the research was complete or because it was in danger of being discovered. Why else would Coquille have been pre-positioned to intercept the fleeing Maquis ship?
Third, whoever was responsible for this conspiracy was more than willing to eliminate anyone who was in a position to expose them. Coquille had been put in harm’s way because they had discovered the cloaking research while in orbit over Belle Colony. The Dominion War had neatly taken care of Padrillo when he and the rest of the Maquis had been massacred on the Tevlik moon. Cabrera was, as he so colorfully put it, a “ghost” survivor from Coquille, was safe only so long as he was presumed dead.
And then, there was Chakotay. While Voyager had been on the far side of the galaxy, Chakotay had not been a threat, but once they returned, once he could be charged and tried for his alleged crime, he was a liability that had to be eliminated. If he were arrested and brought to trial, the secret of Belle Colony would become public knowledge and heads would roll. So, someone from Section 31 had contacted him on Voyager, convinced him that he should escape, and then assisted him in his flight from prosecution-right into the arms of slavers whose captives had an average life-span of six months.
Finally, because of her campaign to exonerate her best friend, she had also become a liability. When she thought of her peril, she considered reaching for her tricorder, configuring it to find phased cloaks, and then wandering through her quarters looking for spies, but she couldn’t succumb to paranoia. Not yet, anyway.
She was going to a new job, working for a difficult boss, learning a new culture, and trying to negotiate a cease fire without anyone she could trust at her side. Did the Union vessels seen near Belle Colony have something to do with its destruction? Did the Union have a group like Section 31 that would be a threat to her? Did Ambassador Tydtk’s “secret agenda” have something to do with the phased cloak research she’d discovered?
Janeway wasn’t the type to resort to tears, and yet she found herself crying at the unfairness of it all, at the frustration and resentment she felt. Cabrera had followed orders and routine protocols only to see his ship and crew tossed aside like unforgivable traitors. Chakotay had participated in a straightforward raid for supplies, and yet he’d been threatened with prosecution for mass murder, lured away from those who cared for him, and turned over to the scum of the galaxy. She had sought to discover the truth, and as a result found herself more alone, more anxious and more insecure than she’d been when Voyager had been 70,000 light years from home.
Janeway checked her clock and groaned at the lateness of the hour. The only way she could get to sleep was to meditate on a time of great peace and security, and so she found a comfortable position, closed her eyes, and remembered the treasured moments on Draxxon that had convinced her that Chakotay was still alive.
She was lying on her side in a cold damp chamber with Chakotay’s solid body spooned against her back, his arms wrapped around her, his right bicep pillowing her head. She smelled the familiar scent of his cologne, felt his warm breath against her skin, and sensed his face pressed against the softness of her hair, his mouth near her ear. He sang a familiar melody, a favorite lullaby, but the words were from his native language, beautiful in their novelty. He breathed the song quietly, as if it were a love song, and the deep rumble of his voice soothed her, lulling her into a boneless relaxation. The sentiment of the lyrics wasn’t as important as the affection and sincerity in his voice or the warmth and tenderness of his embrace. With Chakotay beside her, she could relax and fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that he was watching out for her, protecting her, doing whatever she needed him to do to make her feel safe, cherished, and never alone. Never alone.
At last, resting in the memory of Chakotay’s embrace, she slept.