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

Summary: Chakotay, taken captive by the Toroyans, has an opportunity to see inside their reclusive culture andattempts to discover what really happened to Kathryn Janeway, who was caught in the first battle of the war.

Note: This story begins immediately after “The Minefield”

“Anorha” (A story in the Belle Colony universe)

by mizvoy

“Pure superstition.” Toroyan Captain Maraqet looked up and frowned at his first officer who was standing in front of his desk. “The idea that it’s bad luck to have a female on our ship is just a foolish superstition, Releman. We’ve experienced nothing but success since Anorha came aboard two weeks ago, and you know it.”

“We’ve had good luck, and we’re grateful for her spirit-given insight into scanning for the Union’s cloaks,” Releman replied, keeping his voice even. “Without her help, we surely would have lost the war days ago. But now that we know how to find the cloaked ships, her usefulness has ended.”

“Whether her usefulness has ended or not is for me to decide.” Maraqet glared at him. “I still need her advice, and I refuse to do without it just to humor some half-baked thinking.”

Releman continued his protest. “The crew mutters because she continues to live among us. They feel certain that she will eventually cause us trouble, and they want to do something about it before it’s too late.”

“Then, Releman, it’s your job to convince them to do nothing.” He leaned back in his desk chair and studied his first officer coolly. “They should just forget she’s on board. She remains in seclusion in her quarters where no one sees her. I’m the only one who’s one tainted by coming into contact with her. I’m the one who should be afraid of retribution should anything happen to her, not the crew.”

“Yes, but you’re the captain of the ship. You, more than anyone else, must take care that your reputation is not sullied by taking a woman’s counsel. Superstition or not, Captain, her presence here and her involvement in the war is a threat to your authority and the ship’s security.”

Maraqet thought of the tiny Auki cleric and wondered how the crew would react if they knew that she was not only female, but an alien female, as well. And he suspected that she was from a species that might very well bring the crew to mutiny. He narrowed his eyes and stood up, using every ounce of his superior height and command experience to intimidate his first officer and stop the discussion. “Anorha has helped us find the cloaked ships, but the Union vessels have been relentless at adapting to our efforts. I need her continued advice, Releman. She’ll remain on the Mystraul until I decide that her usefulness has ended. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly clear, sir,” Releman straightened at his captain’s no-nonsense tone of voice. “Your orders?”

“Do whatever is necessary to calm the irrational fears of our crew. You will not speak against Anorha, nor will you tolerate any complaints about her continued presence on Mystraul.” He glared at his first officer. “If this situation is too taxing for you, I’m sure I can find a someone from among the crew who would be willing to take your place.”

A look of panic crossed Releman’s face. They both knew that the third in command, Hestatd, was anxious to advance in rank and would gladly support whatever decision Maraqet made as long as he was given a promotion in the process. “I will follow your orders, sir, and remain loyal to you, no matter what.”

“See that you do. Dismissed.” Maraqet watched as the man quickly left his office, and then he slumped back into his chair in exhaustion, the tension brought on by the disagreement almost too much to bear. His nerves had been stretched to their limits since the Auki cleric, Anorah, had arrived, and he prayed that she would soon leave them.

Truth was, Maraqet was as uneasy the crew was about the woman’s presence on the ship, and he worried that bad luck would soon send them all skittering into a dark afterlife because they dared to face the enemy with a female on board. Who dared to carry a female into battle? Who dared to give affront to the Powers by risking the death or injury of a life-giver in a warship?

He sighed and tried to center his thoughts when a blue light flashed on his comm unit. “What is it?” he asked, even though he knew quite well who it would be.

The voice of the cleric’s attendant greeted him. “Anorha wishes an audience with you at once, Captain.”

Maraqet shuddered and made the ancient gesture against bad luck. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

“We lost the war the first day.” Captain Nistri of the Union vessel, Hidden Dagger, stood at the view port in his quarters staring at the distortions made by the passive cloak currently surrounding the ship. The Dagger had been hiding on the dark side of this remote moon for three days, struggling to repair the phased cloak, and the tension grew steadily stronger as it became apparent that they would fail. Trapped deep inside Toroyan space, the likelihood of their successful escape grew slimmer every moment.
“I don’t understand how you can say that we have already lost the war.” His first officer, Sreeden, stood across the room. “We failed to win on the first day, as our leaders said we would, but even three weeks later, we continue to fight, and fight well.”

“But the die was cast the first day, and nothing in our power can change what will happen. We underestimated the ability of the Starfleet vessel to elude us, and our tactics for using the cloaked vessel were flawed.” Nistri turned and sat down heavily behind his desk, gesturing for his first officer to be seated, as well. “Even before the first shot was fired, we were destined to be defeated.”

Sreeden shook his head in disbelief. “Explain.”

“Do you know what our true goal was at the Toroyan Station?”

“I assume we wanted to wipe out the Toroyan leadership.”

“That would make sense, I agree. But our ultimate goal was simply to kill the new Starfleet admiral. That’s all. Kill one small human female.” Nistri snorted in contempt. “She lived and walked among us unaware for months, and we could have easily killed her with a mismanaged transport, a well-placed drop of poison, a stray phaser beam, even a slip and fall down a long staircase. But, no. We have to tempt fate with untested ships.”

“A single human female?” Sreeden was stunned. “And for that, we use all six cloaked ships? We resumed the war just to accomplish the assassination of one person?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? Our leadership decided to make a statement.” Nistri pulled two small glasses and a bottle of wasstadt from his desk, pouring each of them a finger of the clear yellow liquid. “Our friends inside the Federation feared the admiral and wanted her out of circulation for good, and so they asked this one simple task of us.”

Sreeden tasted the sweet liquid and smiled as it warmed his throat. “Then your suspicions were correct. If our partners would ask us to do something so clearly immoral, then we were, in fact, dealing with a covert portion of Starfleet.”

“No doubt.” Nistri downed his shot in a gulp and poured each of them a second. “My brother-in-law lived on Belle Colony all five years. He met only three people from Starfleet and never left the Colony until the evacuation just before the dome was imploded. We suspected something was inconsistent then, but we were unsure until formal diplomatic relations were begun. Ambassador Tydkt, a member of the legitimate Federation council, was completely unaware of the three hundred Union scientists who lived and worked on the Colony for years. He knew nothing of the vessels that the Federation had put under construction at our shipyards.”

“So all of our work with the Federation . . . all of it . . . was secret?”

“Not just secret, Sreeden. Illegal. Criminal. Our contacts were afraid that the new admiral would bring the true work of the Colony to light. If she did, heads would roll, some of them quite high in Starfleet.” He held the glass of wasstadt to the light in admiration. “What is the saying? ‘There are two reasons for doing something: the public reason and the real reason.'”

“I don’t understand.”

“We thought the Colony was covert because the Federation needed to hide the phased cloak research from their enemies. That would be the public reason because it makes sense. But we were very wrong. The real reason it was covert was because it was illegal.” Nistri set down his glass and leaned forward. “If the mainstream of the Federation became aware of the real research done on Belle Colony, those who were responsible would be severely punished.”

“And the new admiral had somehow figured it out.”

“I believe she had.” Nistri smiled with great glee. “I believe she scared them half to death.”

“And so, why not ask one’s ‘partner in crime,’ in this case the Union, to eliminate the threat.”

“Exactly.”

Sreeden nodded, thinking the problem through. “But our leaders decided to take advantage of the situation.”

“They did just that, unfortunately.” Nistri shook his head as he glanced upward at their ship. “They realized that whoever our partners were in Starfleet, they could not publicly admit that they had funded the building of six vessels with phased cloaks. What could they possibly do if we used the cloaked ships to eliminate our own enemies at the same time we assassinated their admiral? In fact, if we could pull it off, we could keep the ships instead of dutifully turning them over to the Federation. What could they say or do to punish us without bringing trouble on themselves?”

“Brilliant.” Sreeden narrowed his eyes. “It is always satisfying to beat a crook at his game.”

“Except for one thing, my friend-they could bring pressure to bear privately. In order for us to succeed completely, we had to kill every member of the Federation’s delegation on the station and destroy the Starfleet vessel.”

“We had to destroy the Hyperion?”

“Ah, Sreeden, think. If we succeeded, the truth about the real aggressor would be our word against the Toroyans’. We could claim that the Toroyans were simply getting rid of bad leadership and that the Federation casualties were incidental. We could laugh at their claims of cloaked ships. But the Hyperion escaped, and now our former covert allies know that we have taken the cloaked ships and used them against them. Now these dangerous people are our sworn enemies.”

The first officer took a sudden breath. “You think that they have leaked information on how to detect and destroy our cloaked ships?”

Nistri snorted in derision. “Of course they’ve had help. Do you think the Toroyans have the technical expertise to figure that out without help? I wouldn’t be surprised if our former partners have helped them.”

“So it’s just a matter of time before we lose the war?” Sreeden thought of his wife and children on the home world, of his dreams of glory and promotion, all lost. He found himself repeating the words aloud. “The war is lost.”

“It’s over. We can’t allow this ship to fall in the Toroyans’ hands. If we are unable to repair the cloak and escape, we must take as many of our enemies with us in a blaze of glory.” Nistri poured his friend another glass of wasstadt and held up his own in a toast. “Here’s to the Hidden Dagger. There’s no better ship in the quadrant.”

“To the Dagger,” Sreeden agreed, but there was a note of despondency in his voice.

“Where are you taking me?” Chakotay asked each time one of his captors brought a meal to the ship’s tiny brig, and each time the jailer handed him his tray without a word.
He had expected to be turned over to the Federation immediately after his capture, yet each new day arrived to find him still waiting, shivering in the incredibly cold temperatures that the hot-blooded Toroyans found comfortable. He was unharmed, though, and had yet to be questioned about his past life. He began to wonder whether he’d been captured for the price on his head or for some other more obscure reason that would eventually be revealed.

When he did get someone to talk about his destination, his translator interpreted their words as paying a “debt” instead of collecting a “bounty,” but he guessed that the confusion might be a minor distinction could be explained away as a simple semantic glitch.

Two days passed before they arrived at what was called the “home fleet.” Chakotay was transferred to a larger vessel that reminded him of Voyager and was given private quarters with a tiny cot and desk, a food replicator, and a private bath. Even better, he was able to adjust the temperature of the room to something closer to normal and to stop wearing three layers of clothes to keep warm.

He could also move freely through the public areas of the ship as long as he had an armed guard beside him, which made him feel more like a guest than a prisoner or a hostage. He finally decided that he hadn’t been for the bounty that was on his head and that the Toroyans had no idea about his real identity. He was unable to think of a way to broach the subject without losing his cover in the process.

On the second night of his stay on the new ship, the captain, Vitaris, invited him to join him for a meal in his private mess, and the two of them talked about a wide range of issues. Chakotay missed the first contact protocols he’d used so often in the Delta Quadrant and soon came to like the alien captain. Because the war was an on-going problem, their talk soon turned to the battles with the Union’s cloaked ships.

“I’d heard that the Toroyan fleet was in shambles. Some people say that you’re days away from defeat,” Chakotay nodded toward the impressive array of ships visible in the window, “and yet this ship and the others I’ve seen since my arrival are in perfect condition.”

“The Union wants everyone to think that they’re about to prevail, Tyee,” Captain Vitaris replied with a chuckle. “They pose as the victor to curry favor with our neighbors.”

“And you let them get away with it?”

Vitaris shrugged. “Our goal has always been to survive the conflict with the Union, not attract the admiration of other species. Until this latest outbreak, we have held our own for over twenty years. It’s only the treachery of these cloaks that has brought the Union good fortune this time.”

“Were you there at the attack on the space station?” Chakotay asked him, hoping that his eye witness account might dispute some of the troubling gossip he’d heard. “Did you see the cloaked ships the first time they appeared?”

“I was there,” Vitaris replied, his face clouding with anger. “We’re used to the Union’s stationary cloaks, but these cloaks were a giant leap forward in their technology. They passed through our defenses undetected, only to appear beside a ship with phasers firing. ”

“I’ve been a soldier in my day,” Chakotay continued, trying not to look too excited about hearing a first-hand account. “I’ve heard many rumors about that battle and would like to know what really happened.”

“I see no reason not to tell you,” the captain said with a heavy sigh. “We did nothing more dishonorable than trust a proven foe.”

“Foe? You consider the Federation your enemy?”

“I was speaking of the Union, Tyee, although, at the time, we thought the Federation was their ally, and for good reason.”

“You thought they were allies?”

“I think they were, in some ways. Do you think the Union made such incredible strides in cloaking technology without help?” Vitaris shook his head in disbelief. “They’re incapable of such great improvements on their own. They worked with Federation scientists in perfecting the phased cloaks and then built the six prototypes that attacked us at the Station. There is no other explanation.”

Chakotay stared at him, afraid to protest that cloaking technology was illegal in Federation space because it might blow his disguise. Even so, he wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that research into the cloaks had continued. He remembered the scandal of the U.S.S. Pegasus during his last years in Starfleet, and there had been the secret laboratory at Belle Colony with suspicious emissions that created a stir in Cardassia, emissions that might have been caused by phased cloak tests.

He could hear the argument that had probably been waged about the research in Starfleet’s inner chambers. Was it wrong to look into a potentially dangerous technology as long as it is never put to active use? How else could Starfleet prepare to defend the Federation against potential weapons, including new cloaks, except by figuring out how they work? And, what better group to do that kind of study but a secret one dedicated to “Section 31″ of the charter?

“I admit,” Chakotay finally answered, “that what you say makes sense. Perhaps the Federation let the Union do the ‘dirty work’ on these cloaks so that they could avoid having to answer for doing prohibited research themselves.” He gave the captain a questioning look. “I’m surprised that your leaders agreed to meet with the Federation delegation when they had such suspicions about their partnership with the Union.”

“Everyone was surprise, Tyee, but what choice did they have? Our leaders were desperate to confirm or refute the possibility, and the new military attaché was very convincing, so they say. If she hadn’t died in the explosion, they would have blamed her for her betrayal.”

“Military attaché?” Chakotay could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Are you talking about Admiral Janeway?”

“You’ve heard of her, then?” He waited, but Chakotay only nodded, unable to trust his voice. “I’m not surprised, for she was apparently very famous in the Federation. Although I never met her, from what I’ve heard, she was a breath of fresh air compared to the ambassador. Toroyans don’t usually listen to females when it comes to diplomacy and war, yet she was able to gain our trust by listening to our complaints about the Union’s secret partnership with the Federation.”

A chill went down Chakotay’s spine, for he realized that Kathryn’s willingness to listen had probably brought on the attack. “Was that the subject of the meeting at the station? Was the Federation there to hear an official complaint about this alleged affiliation?”

“More or less.”

Chakotay stood up to refill his mug from the urn on the counter, turning his back to hide from the captain the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. The attack on the station would be an elegant solution for Section 31, ridding them of Kathryn Janeway, who had proven to be a thorn in their side, and simultaneously assassinating the Toroyan military’s leaders, who were about to disclose the secret of Belle Colony. His heart was breaking to think that all of his efforts to protect Kathryn from the fallout of his “crime” had failed so miserably.

He resumed his seat with a sigh, forcing himself to concentrate on what Vitaris could tell him. “So the Union did attack the station? And they used the ships even though it meant that everyone learned of the existence of the phased cloaks?”

“Cloaking devices are only illegal in the Federation, Tyee. And they haven’t admitted who it was that helped them to build the ships.” Vitaris sighed. “They obviously believed that the cloaked ships would shift the balance of war in their favor and quickly defeat us.”

“But they haven’t.” Chakotay grew curious. “You’ve adapted quickly and turned things around.”

“We’ve had divine help in that, help that proves our worthiness.” Vitaris looked at him steadily, waiting for a reaction to this extraordinary claim.

“Divine help?” Chakotay managed to keep his jaw from dropping. He was hardly one to discount the power of spiritualism and mysticism in life, but he seriously doubted that meditation could lead to a solution to a newly developed shields. “In what way?”

Vitaris grinned and leaned back in his chair. “Let me guess. Everything you know about our culture has been filtered through the Union’s eyes, right?”

“Probably so. Toroyan culture isn’t very friendly to outsiders, after all. Perhaps you can enlighten me.”

“You’ve heard that we are technologically backward?” He waited for Chakotay to nod in agreement before he continued. “Completely untrue. In our culture, science and religion have co-existed side-by-side throughout history. We believe that all knowledge flows from the spirit that breaths life into the universe. And so, our schools of higher learning are also religious institutions.”

“And so all scientific breakthroughs are miracles, gifts from the spirit, or divinely inspired.” He spent a moment thinking about how most advanced cultures looked down on those that remained faithful to their spiritual beliefs and chastised himself for falling into that trap.

“We believe all knowledge and all good things flow from the spirit, and so our religious societies host our institutions of higher learning as well.” He leaned back in his chair, obviously tiring. “While I admit that our culture is not very welcoming to other species, our schools are quite different. We have many important scientists from all over the quadrant living with us and doing research.”

“Really? Even from the Federation?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. They’re reclusive. True scientists. Desperate to do pure research without worrying about how it will be applied once they’ve perfected it.”

Chakotay realized that the combination of science and religion intrigued him. “I’d like to read up on your culture, if that’s allowed.”

“I see no reason not to enlighten you.”

When he returned to his quarters, Chakotay found that he’d been given access to the ship’s data base. He spent hours pouring over studies of the Toroyan culture before he discovered that he could also access news programs, including detailed descriptions of the war and the opening attack on the deserted station.

Fascinated, he learned that the Union ships had de-cloaked immediately after the station exploded and had immediately focused their weapons on the Starfleet ship Hyperion rather than the Toroyan vessels. The Hyperion had managed to escape the ships in a long, drawn-out battle that made Chakotay want to meet Captain Schuler in person and shake his hand. However, the pictures of the station that slowly disintegrated in a death-spiral toward the surface of the planet it orbited were too difficult to watch. The Federation’s delegation had been on that station, and clearly listed among the dead was Admiral Kathryn Janeway.

Chakotay stared at her name until guilt threatened to choke him, and then he shut down the computer and stumbled to the bunk where he collapsed and stared up into darkness, tears streaming across his temples and into his ears. Except for the minimal light from the replicator controls and the occasional whirr of the computer, the room was as quiet, dark, and cold as a tomb. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt more miserable or depressed. When he looked back at his life, he could see that every effort he’d ever made to exert some kind of control over his life resulted in disaster and calamity, and every effort to protect the people he cared about most had been completely futile.

If only Kathryn had let him go the way the others had. His escape had kept everyone else on Voyager from suffering, but his former captain had always had an unwavering sense of loyalty to her crew. Even when they made mistakes and deserved to pay the consequences, she did all she could to help them. She’d gone after any of them who had tried to leave the ship, determined to keep them together until her mission was complete, and she’d come after him, as well, more than once. He should have expected it. He should never have sneaked into her apartment that night to tell her goodbye, and he should never have told her about his entanglement with the Belle Colony incident.

He rolled over and buried his head in his arms, his tears soaking into the sleeves of his shirt. No more lies. No more self-deception.

He’d gone to her that night because he loved her and didn’t want to leave her. He’d gone because he owed her too much, for giving him a second chance and for believing in him when logic demanded otherwise. He’d told her about Belle Colony because he’d hoped she’d work a miracle and find a way to bring him home. He’d told her because he needed to hear her say that she still believed in him, that he could never have murdered so many people.

He’d known perfectly well how she’d react to the situation, that she would never give up on exonerating him, but he’d underestimated the ruthlessness of those who were trying to get rid of him. He’d never dreamed that her devotion to him would result in her death.

Chakotay was convinced that her blood was on his hands.