Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended.

Summary: After seeing his friends and helping save Kathryn Janeway’s life on Draxxon, Chakotay struggles to get on with his life.

Note: This story occurs three weeks after “Tangled Web.”

The Minefield (a Belle Colony story)

by mizvoy

“Tyee, I thought you said that your bad reputation with small ships was exaggerated.” Ray Borland glanced at Chakotay as they struggled to keep their ship from flying apart. “I have to admit . . . I’m beginning to wonder.”

“We passed through this region just a week ago, Borland,” Chakotay replied, his voice strained by his effort to stay at the pilot’s console as the ship careened through the debris field, “and there weren’t mines anywhere around this region, cloaked or otherwise.”

“Well, somebody’s been busy, because they’re obviously here now.” Borland sighed with relief as the antimatter flow stabilized, allowing him to take the warp core offline. The ship had survived the explosion, but not without significant damage, including an inoperative life support system, malfunctioning inertial dampeners, and a cabin slowly filling with smoke.

They continued to work on repairs in silence, unwilling to admit openly that they were in serious trouble. In the time-honored code of space farers, they focused their energies on surviving rather than the contemplation of their imminent demise, and they often managed to crack a few jokes in the process.

Hostilities had resumed between the Union and the Toroyans just three weeks earlier, and in the meantime every ship had been open to attack, even an underpowered and lightly armed Caritas supply ship traveling in a backwater section of space. It was because of this increased danger that Riker had very nearly cancelled the relief mission into the hottest part of the war zone. He reluctantly agreed to let them go when Chakotay laid out a roundabout course that avoided every known location of Toroyan or Union military patrols.

“You’re taking a big chance, Tyee. Just hope no one figures out that you have a Federation reward on your head,” Riker had warned them, obviously unhappy about their decision to complete the mission. “And if you get caught, you’ll be on your own. You’ll be too far away for us to assist you.”

Chakotay looked up from his panel. “You know, that mine had a really sophisticated cloaking system. No wonder our systems missed it.”

“Why would someone put mines way out here?” Borland wondered aloud. “There isn’t anything in this system worth fighting over, is there?”

“Not that I know of. It isn’t even close to an important trade route.” He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nothing makes sense any more.”

Chakotay glanced at his partner with a wry grin. “Of course, pirates might choose to attack vulnerable ships in a place like this. Ships that are trying to sneak past the battle zone.”

“Pirates? Too bad we already left all the supplies with the Sestwani or we could strike a deal with them.”

“I’m not sure they have much use for what we delivered to the Sestwani. I just hope they don’t need spare parts. Or cheap labor.”

Borland cast him a worried look. “Everything in this whole sector has gone to hell since the assassination.” He winced, noticing that his remark brought an expression of pure anguish to his partner’s face. “Sorry, Tyee. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“That’s all right,” Chakotay lied, giving Borland a weak smile as the ship finally lurched to a dead stop. “The worst part is wondering whether Kathryn survived.”

“Yeah. That’s tough.”

After the noise of the mine’s explosion and of the ship nearly disintegrating in its aftermath, the eerie silence that surrounded them was an ominous sign of severe, maybe even permanent damage. The air scrubbers suddenly activated with a demented whine, more noisy than they were effective, and then shut down just as quickly. The transporter panel in the back of the cockpit shorted out with a brilliant blue crackle. Chakotay looked at his console in despair. “I have more red lights than green. How about you?”

Borland groaned. “You don’t want to know. I think we’re lucky to be alive.”

“They probably want us in one piece.” Chakotay glanced around at the cockpit, noticing that the smoke was descending to a level just above their heads. He grabbed the filtration masks from under the console and handed one to Borland. “Maybe they want a damaged ship, ripe and ready for plunder.”

“Don’t think like that!” Borland complained.

Chakotay pulled on the mask and headed for the engineering station near the back of the cockpit, waving his arms to keep the billowing smoke from blocking his view. When he spoke, the comm device in the mask activated automatically, giving the two men a clear signal. “We need to get auxiliary power on line before we freeze to death or suffocate.”

“While you do that, I’ll look at subspace communications.” They worked silently for a few minutes. Then Borland said, “So you figure whoever owns the mines will be coming for us?”

“Yeah, and it won’t be long, either.” They both knew that pirates would take possession of the ship and probably force them to join their crew. Unless they killed them. Neither man wanted to think about the possibility that the mines were placed by bounty hunters who had somehow found out where he was hiding. “Forget subspace communications for now. If we can get sensors online, we can try to avoid the raiders.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Borland answered as he turned the console on his right, “but it won’t be much.”

While the computer ran a diagnostic on their impulse engine, Chakotay coded their location into a communications buoy and jettisoned it, programming it to activate in six hours. By then, he estimated, they’d be captured or dead, but at least the Caritas would know what had happened to them.

The war had plunged the entire region into chaos. Shipping lanes that had been relatively safe for years were suddenly raging battlefields, and asteroid belts that had been admired for their beauty had become hiding places for pirates and mercenaries who scavenged damaged and abandoned ships for whatever they could use or sell.

In spite of the increased danger, the Caritas had redoubled their efforts to help the victims of war, bringing food, medicine, and replacement parts to refugees who were helplessly caught between the factions. No one had been more energized by that effort than Chakotay, but the reality was that the Caritas’ difficult mission had just been made impossible, and there was little anyone could do about it until the war ended.

As Borland worked on the sensors, he remembered how difficult the last six months had been for his partner. The problems had all started on Draxxon after Chakotay had rescued his former captain from the bar that had exploded around them. Even months later, the memories of those tense hours were vivid.

Chakotay arrived at their beam out sight twenty minutes late and carrying an unconscious woman in his arms. Outside the ramshackle building, the bar room brawl had spread into the street and was quickly deteriorating into true chaos. What had begun as a simple accusation of cheating had triggered a battle between two or three rival gangs and threatened to turn the planet’s surface into a war zone. Riker, who had already beamed back to the orbiting ship, had ordered everyone aboard as soon as possible, and Borland had been in near panic over the tardiness of his partner.

He met Chakotay, glancing with dismay at the burden he carried. “This is hardly the time to be picking up women, Tyee.”

For the first time in the year they’d worked together, Borland received the full brunt of Chakotay’s anger. “Can’t you see she’s injured?” he yelled as he gently placed the unconscious woman on a pad on the floor. “She risked her life to save mine, and she didn’t even know for sure who I was.”

Borland watched as Chakotay unfastened the woman’s parka. When he saw who she was, he nearly fainted. “Kathryn Janeway?” he asked in amazement. “She saved your life?”

“She threw her body over mine when the bar exploded. If she hadn’t, this piece of debris in her shoulder would have hit me full in the chest. It’s just like her to risk her life for a stranger.”

Chakotay used his knife to cut the parka away from the vicious shard of metal that protruded from the creamy white skin just above her bra. Her face was ashen, her turtleneck and jacket sodden with blood that continued to stream from the wound. Not only was her breathing labored, but an ominous trickle of blood escaped from the corner of her mouth and her nose, indicating damage to a lung.

“She’s in bad shape, Tyee. She’s lost too much blood. Let’s just beam her to her ship and get the hell out of here.” Outside the building, the sounds of the fight grew louder as the combatants searched for better positions, and Borland was in no mood for a brawl.

“I don’t know where her ship is, Ray, and it would take too much time to find it. She needs first aid right now, or she won’t leave here alive.”

“But, Tyee, look at her. She needs more than first aid. Let’s beam her to our ship.”

“It would be a waste of time. I can do as much for her here as we could do on the ship!” Chakotay’s eyes blazed with fury. He waved the knife at Borland as an obvious threat. “Shut up and start helping me or she won’t be the only one who needs medical help.”

Borland knew better than to argue any further. “I’ll have Riker beam down whatever you need.” By the time the medkit and other emergency supplies materialized beside them, Chakotay had cut away the rest of her turtleneck and was contemplating the best way to remove the piece of metal.

“You should vaporize it,” Borland suggested, handing him a medical tricorder. “I’ve done it before to wounds like that, and the heat cauterizes the bleeders and seals the wound.”

“Yeah, and it could even help the collapsed lung re-inflate.” Chakotay administered a hypospray of antibiotics and pain killers and then picked up Janeway’s damaged commbadge, handing it to Borland. “They’ve got to be scanning for her signal. See if you can fix this while I work on her shoulder.”

“You know, this probably saved her life.” The nearly unrecognizable commbadge had been badly damaged by the point of the projectile, its underside deeply dented and the data chip cracked. “I’m not sure it can be fixed, but I’ll try,” he muttered as he moved away to a spot with better light. Outside the battle continued to grow in intensity as the combatants moved down the street toward them.

Whether Chakotay didn’t realize Borland could hear him talking to Janeway or whether he simply didn’t care, Borland never knew, but he couldn’t help but overhear Chakotay’s constant chatter as he worked on the wound.

“Kathryn, I asked you to let me go. I deserve whatever abuse or injury I get for my mistakes, but here you are, risking your life and everyone else’s, suffering because of a misplaced loyalty to me.” He paused as he carefully calibrated the medical phaser to vaporize the projectile without causing more damage to her flesh. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt.”

Janeway groaned as the shard glowed bright red and then disappeared. Her eyes fluttered open and almost seemed to focus on him. “Chakotay? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he answered her gently, smiling down at her as he took her hand. “Everybody’s fine.”

“And the ship?” She gripped his hand hard, struggling to sit up. “The ship isn’t damaged?”

“Voyager’s all right.” He placed a hand on her undamaged shoulder to keep her from moving. “You need to lie down and let me take care of you.”

Her eyes lost their focus as she sank back in relief and closed her eyes. “As long as everybody’s okay.”

Borland watched as Chakotay hesitated, his head bowed as if in prayer. “Always everyone else first,” he muttered, and then quickly applied a field bandage to her wound, front and back, carefully rolling her over to make sure the bleeding had stopped. Janeway shuddered in pain, her skin so white Borland wondered if she was beyond help. He hoped that they weren’t risking their lives over a woman who wasn’t going to survive anyway. He looked down at the damaged commbadge in despair.

“This is beyond repair,” he complained, holding the commbadge toward his partner. “The components are completely fused, and I can’t even determine the frequency they were using to contact the ship.” The words were barely out of his mouth when a grenade hit just outside the building, causing dust and debris to filter down from the ceiling and blowing out a window at the far side of the room. Borland covered his head with his arms, suddenly frightened. “The situation on Draxxon is rapidly destabilizing, Tyee. It’s every man for himself out there. If we don’t go now, I can’t guarantee that we’ll get away at all.”

Chakotay slowly covered his patient with a survival blanket and then took the commbadge from Borland’s hand, turning it over thoughtfully before he spoke again, this time his voice as cold as the breeze that was blowing through the window. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I’m not leaving until she’s back on her ship. And you aren’t leaving without me.”

“You don’t even know if she’ll make it, Tyee. Her lung’s collapsed, she’s lost a hell of a lot of blood, and . . . .”

Before Borland knew what was happening, Chakotay grabbed him and slammed his body against the wall, his right arm pressed so hard against his throat that it was impossible to breathe. Chakotay’s face, crimson with fury, was just inches away, and there was a murderous anger in his eyes. “If you worked on the commbadge instead of worrying about your sorry skin, we could be on our way by now.”

Borland blinked and tried to speak, his voice little more than a croak.

Chakotay backed off slightly, as if he suddenly realized what he’d done, and his voice softened as he glanced away in embarrassment. “We aren’t leaving until we contact her ship and she’s beamed safely aboard. Have I made myself clear?”

Chakotay released him, and Borland felt his feet touch the floor. He rubbed his throat and swallowed before he tried to speak again. “Give me ten more minutes. I’ll use parts from my commbadge if I have to.”

Chakotay backed away and returned to the woman who lay shivering with shock and cold on the pad on the floor. As he gently wrapped her in the survival blanket, they spoke to each other, so softly that Borland couldn’t hear the words, and then Chakotay lay down beside her, pulling her close as he tried to warm her with his body. Until Borland finally made the repairs, the two of them lay curled together, and Chakotay sang a soothing lullaby that Boland had heard him use when rocking a sick or frightened orphan to sleep.

He’d heard other Caritas speculate about the relationship between Voyager’s command team, but he’d never really taken it seriously. He knew now, without a doubt, how deeply Chakotay loved Kathryn Janeway.

“I’m sending every shred of spare power to the sensors. Do you see anything?” Chakotay asked as he examined the automated report on the ship’s engines. “The way these engines look, we’re going to be here awhile.”

“Sensors aren’t functioning yet, and they won’t be until we get more power.”

Chakotay nodded, continuing to work on repairs even though he didn’t have much hope for escape or rescue. “Any chance of contacting the Caritas? Letting them know where we are and what happened?”

Borland shook his head. “Communications are offline. Should I activate the emergency beacon?”

“Better not. Whoever laid the mines can find us quick enough without our help. Just work on the sensors, and if that seems impossible, get subspace working so we can let the others know where we are.”

Chakotay paused, shifting into a tactical line of thought as he considered who might have had a reason to lay cloaked subspace mines in such remote territory. The accounts of the opening rounds of the hostilities had seemed to point toward a swift and complete Union victory, almost as if the Toroyans were fighting modern weapons with sticks and stones. Every fight was a Toroyan disaster with total annihilation of their forces, and every battle redrew the boundaries of space in the Union’s favor.

With typical ferocity, the Toroyans fought on without regard of the cost, and then, miraculously, they began to make headway against their foes. By the second week of hostilities, the Toroyans had made significant gains against the more powerful Union and had even begun to reclaim territory that had been lost. He’d studied the reports with great care, trying to account for their sudden change in tactics and their unexpected success in anticipating the Union’s moves, but he simply didn’t have enough information to understand what had happened. He wondered if there was something about this backwater area that would explain their good fortune.

He shook his head, focusing on the matter at hand, grateful that the air handlers had functioned well enough to let him remove the stifling mask. “Several power relays need to be replaced,” he told Borland. “I’ll go below and see what I can do.”

“Okay, but be careful. No telling how volatile those power relays are.”

Chakotay pulled up the floor hatch that led to the engineering deck below and grinned at his friend. “You aren’t thinking about Ro Laren’s warning, I hope.”

“That you have a death wish?” Borland laughed at the thought as he pulled off his mask and rubbed his face with his hands. “I figure you aren’t any worse about that than usual.” He watched Chakotay disappear into the hatch and frowned as he remembered how worried they had all been for his well-being after the Draxxon meeting.

There had been an obvious change in Chakotay after their brief meeting with Kathryn Janeway and the other members of Voyager’s crew. When the two men finally returned to the ship from the planet’s surface, Chakotay retreated to his cabin without a word to anyone and remained there for the six days it took to return to the Caritas’ base. He simply failed to show up for his shifts on the bridge, and he refused to answer the hails from the rest of the crew who were worried sick about his state of mind and well-being.

Finally, Tom Riker used his command codes to gain access to Chakotay’s quarters. The rest of the crew had waited with great anticipation while Riker spent several hours with alone with him. However, he never shared a word with anyone about he’d seen or heard while with Chakotay. He simply emerged from the tiny room looking tired and depressed and asked Ro Laren to rework the schedule without including Chakotay.

That was just the first indication of his retreat from the Caritas. When they arrived at their base, Chakotay simply disappeared without a word of explanation, moving back to the farm to help Marilas with the harvest and to prepare the equipment, buildings, and animals for the quickly approaching winter season. He wanted to be left alone, and the Caritas honored that, but Borland, who was closer to him than anyone else, occasionally contacted Marilas to ask about him.

“He’s grieving,” she explained, after telling him once again that Chakotay was not accepting calls. “The reality of his loss is simply too overwhelming, I think. To see Kathryn and the others, to know that they are alive and living their lives without him has been something he’s struggled to put out of his mind for too long. Now, he must come to terms with it.”

“We’re worried about him,” Borland replied. “We’re afraid he’ll . . . well, we’re afraid for him.”

She smiled. “You mean suicide?”

“It’s occurred to us. How many times can a man lose everything he loves and keep on living?”

Her face grew sad and tears filled her eyes. “He’s much stronger than you think, Ray. Life here sustains him. The contact with nature. The love and affection from the children. The hard work that needs so desperately to be done. He’s needed here. He’s loved. It isn’t what he wants or dreams of, but it’s enough. It has to be.”

And she was right, it was enough . . . until Chakotay heard through the grapevine that Admiral Kathryn Janeway was being assigned to the borderlands of Union space as Admiral Tydyk’s military attaché. Soon after that news was confirmed, Chakotay appeared at the Caritas base. Borland hadn’t been surprised when Chakotay suddenly resurfaced, nor was he surprised when he volunteered for any mission that took him toward Federation space, even though the region was fraught with danger. Without a word, he became his partner again and willingly accompanied him on whatever missions he wanted to take.

They had made one trip to the Sestwani camp prior to the assassination and had a second trip planned when outbreak of hostilities threw the entire region into war. Riker wanted to cancel the trip.

“It’s too dangerous, Tyee,” Ro Laren warned them. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“The Sestwani need the supplies more now than ever,” Chakotay disagreed. “You haven’t seen the conditions they live in.”

“They need to move away from the war zone,” Riker chimed in. “You need to talk to them about that, try to convince them. Make sure they understand that this is our last supply mission to their present location.”

Chakotay frowned, but nodded in agreement.

As Borland was leaving the building, Ro Laren stopped him, pulling him aside for a private conversation. “Think about whether you really want to go with him, Ray. He seems better, but I’m not sure he’s stable. This could be a suicide mission you’re getting caught up in.”

“Not any worse than usual, I guess.” Borland had shrugged the idea off, but he hadn’t forgotten her warning.

Chakotay emerged from the engineering access with two twisted and blackened power relays in his hands. “Are the replicators online?” he asked as he tossed the relays into the recycler.

“Barely.” Borland continued to work on sensors in silence before asking, “Do you think the rumor’s true about the Union having phased cloaks?”

“Phased cloaks would explain a lot. It would explain how the ships showed up unexpectedly so deep inside Toroyan space. But your guess is as good as mine who has the cloaks.”

“I didn’t think they were feasible.”

“Phased cloaks?” Chakotay grinned as the power relays appeared in the replicator slot. “We ran into a few in the Delta Quadrant. There are ways to overcome their greed for power, but I’ve never seen one that works perfectly. Once you figure out how to scan for them, it’s not that hard to see them.”

Borland thought about that. “Yeah, well, what are the chances the Toroyans would figure out how to scan for them?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought of that, too. They just aren’t that technologically advanced.” Chakotay sat on the edge of the access to think. “At first, it looked like the Union would win easily, maybe because of some new cloaking technology. But in the last week or so, the Toroyans have come around. They’ve even won a few skirmishes.”

“Maybe they have a new ally who knows how to defend against the cloaks?”

“Maybe.” In spite of their need to repair the ship, he continued to sit and think.

“Which brings me back to this fine situation,” Borland said. “Do you think the Union laid the mines?”

“I don’t think so. It’s something pirates would do. Or the Toroyans. I imagine we’ll find out soon enough.” Chakotay lowered himself into the access, the replacement relays in hand. “I’ll see what I can do with the impulse engines. Keep working on subspace communications. With any luck, you should have more power in a few minutes.”

As Chakotay crawled back into the work station, he thought back to the previous day when he’d delivered medicine, food, and other essential supplies to the refugees at the Sestwani camp. In spite of their fragile existence in the midst of the war zone, the Sestwani were a happy extended family that welcomed Chakotay’s infrequent visits and treated him as an honorary patriarch of their group. Like the orphans and the farm, they reminded him of better days, of a time when he was also a homeless refugee struggling to survive, and he’d adopted them as his own special cause.

But he didn’t feel as if he belonged with them, and he suspected he never would. He felt more at home with the Caritas and identified with their mission, but he belonged somewhere else, with other people, in a place and time that was gone forever. The reality of that loss had never been clearer to him than it was after his devastating visit to Draxxon. To have seen B’Elanna Torres, Harry Kim and Tuvok was bad enough, but he’d held Kathryn Janeway in his arms, he’d heard her voice, he’d experienced, again, her incredible courage and compassion.

Letting them go again had resulted in a depression so deep that he resorted to the most basic lifestyle and the most supportive environment he could find in the hopes of survival. Only the possibility of seeing Kathryn again had brought him out of his doldrums and given him the strength to face space travel again.

He shifted the access panel aside and carefully installed the power relays, only to discover that there must be more damage that prevented the engines from coming online. He leaned against the wall and pulled out a tricorder to do a further diagnostic on the surrounding area. As he waited for the diagnostic to be complete, he remembered how he’d felt when the news of Kathryn’s assignment to the Federation border had reached him.

Chakotay returned to the farmhouse after sunset, as usual, filthy and tired from another long day of physical labor. Winter had arrived in full force bringing heavy snow and ice that made outdoor work impossible, so he’d spent the day in the workshop. He’d done all that could be done to prepare the farm for winter and was dreading the long days and nights of inactivity that left him alone with his memories and regrets. For the first time since he’d returned to the orphanage, he looked up at the stars with interest. Perhaps it was time to return to the Caritas.

Marilas met him at the door, as she always did, helping him out of his dirty work clothes so he could get inside and clean up in the mud room as she put a late supper on the table. He sat down with a groan and picked up the hot tea, cradling the mug in his hands.

“The good news is that I finished the last of the work in the barn today,” he said to her as he sipped the hot tea.

“And the bad news?” she smiled, sitting down across from him to keep him company.

“The bad new is that there’s no more work to be done until spring.” He studied the pasta marinara appreciatively before picking up his fork. “I’m thinking I should return to the Caritas until you need me again.”

“Maybe so.” Marilas watched him finish his meal in silence before she pulled a PADD from her pocket. “This message came today from Riker. I know you don’t like to hear from them, but this is something you need to see. Read it while I get your dessert.”

Chakotay sat back in the chair and activated the message, apprehensive about what he was about to read. After just the first few words, he sat up straight in his chair, his exhaustion replaced by a sudden surge of energy. “Kathryn Janeway is being assigned to the Federation border?”

“Apparently so. Something about helping broker a peace between the Union and the Toroyans.” She set the nectlar pie in front of him with a huff. “As if peace between those two enemies is possible—they’ve only been at war for twenty years.”

“And Ambassador Tydkt is an idiot.” Chakotay looked up at her, obviously concerned. “She must have really pissed somebody off to get an assignment like this.”

“Couldn’t she refuse the assignment?”

“Not if she wants to stay on active duty.” He put down the PADD and toyed with the crust on the pie absently. “I have an idea that this is my fault.”

“Your fault, Tyee?” Marilas clucked at him. “How is that possible? She’s a grown woman, responsible for her own decisions.”

“I can’t imagine that her continuing research into Belle Colony has earned her any friends, and it may have made her some significant enemies.”

“Explain.”

“There’s a secret organization inside Starfleet that was involved with Belle Colony in some way, and there are rumors that the work done there was highly illegal. They want me dead to close the case forever, and that’s why there is a reward for my capture. If she’s stumbled onto the truth, Kathryn may have made some truly treacherous enemies.”

“You mean that her life might be in danger?”

Chakotay’s eyes widened as the truth of Marilas’ statement hit him. How many times in history had troublesome officers been eliminated by putting them in harm’s way, sending them into a volatile situation where any number of “accidents” could result in their death? “Of course. That has to be it.”

“What do you mean?”

Chakotay stood up and moved toward the communications console, the dessert forgotten. If Section 31 was half as ruthless as Alita had alleged that they were, time was of the essence. “I need to get back out there before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Marilas asked him as he disappeared around the corner.

“Too late to save Kathryn’s life.”

The beep of the tricorder brought him back to the task at hand. As he feared, replacing the relays only revealed the rest of the damage. Part of the conduit surrounding the relays was also fused, but at least he had the supplies available in the engineer locker. As he pulled out the conduit and began to measure it, his mind strayed to his recent meeting with the Sestwani, and especially the long talk he had with his former Maquis friend, Alita.

As he’d hoped, she had gathered more recent information on the assassination from her contacts inside the Federation and, he suspected, from inside Starfleet itself. While Starfleet had publicly confirmed that Ambassador Tydkt and several members of his delegation had been killed in the initial explosion, they listed Kathryn as “missing in action, condition unknown,” and Chakotay was anxious to learn more specifics about what that enigmatic statement actually meant.

Once the Caritas’ supplies had been properly stowed in the camp, Chakotay spent an evening relaxing with her as she took care of her infant twins.

“The ambassador should never have agreed to a meeting at that location,” Alita said as she settled one of the twins at her breast. She smiled indulgently at Chakotay, who was intently studying the face of the second twin cradled in his arms, a blush crawling up his neck. “You can look now, Tyee. Nothing is showing.”

He raised his head and grinned. “Sorry, but it’s been awhile since I’ve been around a nursing mother.”

“No problem.” She sighed and settled back in her low chair to relax. “The Toroyan station may have been deserted for years, but every pirate, criminal, and scoundrel in three sectors made use of it in the meantime. Rumor has it that the admiral argued vehemently for a better location.”

“But Tydyk didn’t listen to her.”

“No, he didn’t. And neither did Starfleet when she sent them a few dozen requests for guidance and support.”

“Sounds like the ambassador was worse than I’d heard.”

She snorted. “He was a know-it-all who refused to listen to anyone who didn’t agree with him.”

“So he took a lone Starfleet vessel to a remote and deserted space station that had been home to every scum-bag in the sector.”

“Exactly. Janeway wanted to wait for reinforcements, but Tydyk wouldn’t give an inch. I even heard he was going to have her relieved when they returned.”

“Poor Kathryn. After all those years of making her own decisions, she must have gone crazy having to follow the orders of an idiot like that.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t just refuse to go.”

Chakotay shook his head. “That would mean letting the ship and crew go into danger without being there to help them. She’d never do that.”

“Yeah. Well, she was able to talk the ambassador into letting her engineer and security chief do an exhaustive sweep of the station when they arrived. My source says they went over the place with a fine-toothed comb.”

“Not fine enough, obviously.” He adjusted the baby’s position, putting him on his shoulder and gently patting his back. “So when did the attack occur?”

“Not right away. During the opening reception, Janeway and another officer left the room for awhile. Hyperion kept a transporter lock on her and the ambassador, and sensor logs show two humans a few corridors away until just before the explosion occurred.”

“Why would she leave like that? Was she meeting someone else? Did she notice something peculiar?”

“All they know for sure is that there were three alien lifesigns in the same area, but it’s impossible to tell whether they were Toroyan, Union, or some other species.”

Chakotay averted his eyes as Alita shifted the baby to the other breast. He tried to imagine the situation, thinking of reasons why Kathryn would leave her boss at an official function. “They surely don’t imagine that she had something to do with setting up the assassination?”

“Janeway? No way. But, the explosion occurred before she reentered the room. They think she was probably far enough away to have escaped serious injury in the initial blast.”

“They ‘think’ she was?”

“Just seconds earlier, the station’s shields went up and all communications and sensors were jammed by someone on the station.”

“That’s interesting. Was that done by the Toroyans?”

Alita sighed. “This is where things get very confusing. Hyperion was attacked at the same instant by a half dozen cloaked vessels.”

“What kind of cloak?” Chakotay wondered. “Starfleet ships are pretty good at picking up Romulan and Klingon cloaks and scan for them on a routine basis.”

“The ships were of an unfamiliar design, and their cloaks were so good that they caught the Hyperion by surprise. The ship’s shields were down when the attack began. It was a miracle she survived in one piece.” The baby finished nursing, and Alita quickly burped her and then laid her in a crib beside her chair. “You’re wondering if the cloaked ships were Unionists, aren’t you?”

“Everyone says that the Union has been developing a phased cloak for years. Maybe they’ve finally managed to create a workable design.”

“But why would the Unionists want to disrupt the meeting? They were the ones who urged Tydyk to meet them personally at the station.”

Chakotay suddenly felt sick with fear. “Maybe the Unionists wanted to get rid of the Federation leaders and the Toroyans at the same time.”

“Or maybe it was done by a different group altogether? A covert group with an agenda all its own.” She raised an eyebrow. “Like Section 31.”

Chakotay grew thoughtful, absently rocking the baby that was drifting asleep in his arms. “Maybe they were hoping to downplay the reputation of friendship between the Federation and the Union.” And, he thought to himself, maybe they wanted to get rid of Kathryn Janeway and her questions about Belle Colony.

“Well, that worked perfectly. There are no longer any diplomatic relations between the Federation and either the Union or the Toroyans.”

“They’re all too busy pointing their fingers at each other.” Chakotay smiled down at the peaceful infant and then placed it in the crib beside its brother. “I’m guessing that Hyperion had to retreat as quickly as possible?”

“They didn’t have time to look for survivors. There was a running battle between the Toroyans and the cloaked ships, and Hyperion seemed to be a target by both sides. Just as they got away, a warp core breach sent the station spinning off out of control.” She reached over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry Chakotay. I wish I could tell you for sure that your friend survived.”

“Well, at least there’s a possibility that she’s still alive. I’m grateful for that.”

The first casualty of war is truth, and nothing could prove the adage more accurate than the uncertainty surrounding the suddenly reignited Union/Toroyan war. Everyone knew that the open conflict had erupted at the diplomatic meeting on the Toroyan station and that high level officials had been murdered, but the circumstances surrounding the assassination remained in dispute.

The Union blamed the Toroyans, claiming that they wanted to kill the members of their own leadership that were so cowardly as to seek peace with the Unionists. The Federation blamed the Union, claiming that they had leaked the location of the meeting to some militant faction with the hope that they would take drastic action designed to restart the dormant war. And the Toroyans blamed the Federation for the disaster, claiming that their long-time covert partnership with the Union made them want to put the Toroyans in an indefensible light.

Chakotay replaced the conduit and activated the power grid, relieved to see impulse power come back on line-enough to power sensors and help them find their way to a hiding spot until further repairs could be made.

“Try sensors now, Ray,” he called out as he replaced the panel and crawled up through the open hatch.

“I have bad news,” Ray replied, his voice betraying his dismay. “We have company.”

Chakotay stuck his head through the hatchway only to find himself looking down the barrel of a Toroyan phaser rifle. Behind the alien, he could see that Borland was facing another phaser at the front of the cabin. He raised his hands to show his captor that he was unarmed. “We’re not your enemies,” he said. “We’re here on a mission of mercy.”

“You’re with the Caritas?” the Toroyan demanded. “This is a Caritas vessel?”

“Yes. My name is Tyee. And that is Ray Borland.”

The Toroyan nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. “Tyee, you say? You’re the one we want, then.”

“Now wait just a minute . . . .” Borland started to move toward his captor, only to find the phaser pressed firmly against his chest.

“That’s enough, Ray,” Chakotay interrupted, raising his hand to stop him. He knew what Borland was thinking, that the Toroyans wanted to capture him and collect the Federation reward. Or, worse yet, turn him over the Section 31. “If I come with you quietly, you’ll let Ray go unharmed?”

“We’ll return him to the Sestwan Camp. He’s of no interest to us.”

Borland said, “And the ship?”

“The ship will be confiscated because of your trespass in Toroyan space.”

“This is non-aligned space and you know it!” Borland argued.

While Chakotay knew the Caritas would sorely miss the ship, at least neither of them would die in the process. It wasn’t the best outcome, but the Caritas would the best of it. “It’s all right, Ray. If all they want is me and the ship, that’s a bargain I’m willing to make.”

“No!” Borland shouted as he moved to disarm his captor, only to be stunned by his captor.

The Toroyan stepped back as Borland crashed unconscious to the floor, then he turned to his partner for guidance.

“Tie him to the copilot’s seat and prepare to take him back to the camp.” As his partner prepared the ship for departure, the Toroyan turned to Chakotay. “You agree to come quietly?”

“Do I have a choice?” Chakotay crawled out of the hatch and gazed longingly at the shelf that held his personal belongings, including his medicine bundle and some precious holograms of his family and Voyager’s crew. The Toroyans bound his hands and put chains on his ankles before contacting their ship for transport.

Later, when he was left alone in the Toroyan brig, Chakotay felt the ship’s engines come online as they went to warp. Strange to think that the Toroyans had been trying to catch him when they laid the mines along that rarely used space lane. They must have known about his attachment to the Sestwani camp and the “safe” route he would use to reach them.

He considered whether they would they turn him over to the “real” Federation for trial or surrender him to Section 31. Would his face be plastered as a criminal on every computer screen in the quadrant, or would he finally “disappear” without a trace? He lay down on the bunk and closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax, reminding himself that whatever happened, it was time to face the music.

He couldn’t go on living without some resolution to his lonely and wasted existence. He hadn’t imagined how difficult it would be to leave everyone behind, to face a second rebuilding of his life from scratch when, this time, his previous life was still there, his friends still missing him and risking their lives to help him. The true cost of his impulsive decision to escape prosecution and leave Voyager behind had turned out to be too high, and neither the family feeling he experienced at the orphanage nor the altruistic mission of the Caritas was enough to make up the difference.

He’d cheated death too many times in his life to expect to do it again. He’d escaped the consequences of his actions too often. The time had come to face up to his responsibilities and pay for his transgressions.

He would rather die for his crimes or spend the rest of his days in prison than continue his lonely and solitary life.

Whatever they did to him, Chakotay hoped the Toroyans would make that wish come true.