Broken Hearts

by mizvoy

Chapter 3

August 1, 2378–Reddig V/San Francisco

Susan Brown

The mural extended the length of the student lounge, filling the area between the plate glass windows that overlooked the quadrangle and the ceiling high overhead, creating, as it were, an artificial night sky. Perhaps that explained why Chakotay had never really studied it before. He’d been through the lounge dozens of times during his tenure as an instructor at the Academy, but he’d never taken the time to sit down and look at the mural.

He found a seat at the far side of the room where he could contemplate the painting in its entirety. At first it was just a typical blue black star field marred by strands of space dust and clouds of nebular matter. He shook his head, convinced he must be missing something, and then relaxed and leaned back in the chair. Within minutes, images began to emerge inexplicably from the paint–a starship, a Pegasus, a mother and child, a unicorn, the Federation emblem, and a vaguely familiar star system. He sat up and rubbed his eyes in amazement.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” a voice said behind him.

Chakotay turned to see the face of a Starfleet commander, probably an Academy instructor, gazing up at the mural. “Are the shapes really there?”

The commander shrugged. “I think they must be. They come from the way the paint was applied. I’ve counted twenty hidden designs, depending on the amount of light and my point of view. Once in awhile, when I least expect it, a new pattern hits me. I never get tired of looking at it.”

“I never noticed it before.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many people just glance up at it and move on. It’s the artist’s only public work, I understand. What a shame.”

“Who is the artist?”

“It’s signed ‘KJ,’ but I’ve never found out whose initials they are.”

Chakotay nodded. He decided not to reveal the name of the artist who apparently preferred to retain her anonymity.

He had learned of the mural two weeks earlier while he was attending a conference on Reddig V. The Federation Archeology Society had agreed to pay all of his expenses in exchange for the reading of a paper on the Mars Explorer, more pleasure than duty, and a written report on several interesting seminars once the conference ended. The trip couldn’t have come at a better time.

He had finally made up his mind to leave Starfleet, really a mutual parting, and the conference would be an excellent opportunity to make some new contacts as he looked for a job. It was also an opportune time to get used to being alone. He and Seven had decided to call their struggling relationship off, and he badly needed some time away from familiar surroundings to decide what he should do next with his life, both personally and professionally.

He’d looked forward to doing some traveling after spending seven months on Earth, but he found his first trip into deep space nerve-wracking and uncomfortable. The ship’s warp engine didn’t sound anything like Voyager’s, and he felt uneasy about the ship’s reliability because he wasn’t’ involved in its day-to-day maintenance and repair schedules. After so many years in space, he grown tired of looking at the stars and found he was bored stiff with the activities provided by the cruise director–velocity tournaments, craft festivals, tours of engineering or the bridge, and informal dances. He spent most of the trip fast asleep in his tiny berth, grateful to be left alone.

Once he’d arrived on Reddig V, he had been pleased with the plush beach-front condominium and with the sporadic conference schedule that had allowed him plenty of time to unwind and enjoy the resort-like atmosphere. The weather had been warm enough for swimming and sun-bathing, and he’d found himself relaxing more than he had in years, even more than he had in the months since Voyager’s return.

On the last day of the conference, he had slept late and decided on a leisurely brunch in an open air café. He had just placed his order and was watching the tourists flow past the café toward the beach when he became aware of a tall, dark-haired woman who was seated at a nearby table. She seemed to be staring at him, he imagined because she recognized him from the paper he’d read at the conference or from his connection to Voyager, and he pondered, for the first time since his breakup with Seven, whether he was ready for a new woman in his life.

He glanced at her, gauging her to be about his own age, and gave her his most friendly smile. “Have we met?”

“I don’t believe so,” she answered, blushing slightly at her obvious bad manners, “but I think we have a lot in common.”

Intrigued, he asked, “Are you also here for the conference?”

“No, I’m here for the weekend. But, we’re both former Starfleet officers.” She paused. “And we both know Kathryn Janeway.” She laughed when she saw the look of apprehension on his face. “Or, at least we think we know her.”

He sighed, wondering when and if he would ever escape the influence of his former captain. “You served with her?”

“Not exactly. We were at the academy together.”

At that moment, the waiters delivered their food, and Chakotay suggested that she join him at his table.

“I’m Susan Brown,” she said, offering her hand as she sat down across from him. “And you’re Chakotay, of course.”

He shook her hand, and then brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Did you recognize the tattoo?”

“Your face, including the tattoo, has been plastered all over the news for months. You must be recognized all the time.”

“We’ve been home for awhile, and the publicity is slowing down. So, you knew Kathryn Janeway when she was a lowly cadet?”

“I was in Katie’s class. In fact, I was a Starfleet officer until Wolf 359.”

“You were there?” He looked at her sympathetically. “What a terrible day. You were lucky to survive.”

“Yes, I know. My injuries were severe enough to force an early retirement. Now I teach history on Reddig V.”

“Tough duty.” He smiled at her as he glanced at the holiday atmosphere.

She grinned. “Well, I live and teach in a less resort-like location, I assure you.” They ate in silence for a few minutes before Susan returned to their original subject. “I lived across the hall from Katie for all four years that we were at the Academy. I felt like I knew her pretty well.”

“She was my captain and next-door-neighbor for seven. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.”

She laughed, putting a hand on his arm. “I wonder if she’s changed. At the academy, she studied non-stop–she was obsessed with perfection. I don’t think she ever slept, and I’m sure she had no life outside of her books.”

“Her work habits certainly haven’t changed. I had to force her to take time off from work.” He pushed his pasta around on his plate. “The pressure was relentless.”

“I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like. The pressure was pretty tough on her in school, too. It’s not easy being the daughter of a well-known rising star in the Admiralty. She was very conscious that everything she did or didn’t do would reflect on her father.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that. At least in the Alpha Quadrant she had her family and friends to talk to, and plenty of time off duty. It was 24/7 out there.”

“It must have been tough on all of you.”

He grinned. “Well, she tried her best to do all and take all the responsibility on herself. ‘There can only be one captain,’ she always said. She held herself apart from the crew to maintain that ‘aura of mystique’ the commander is supposed to have, and I know she was pretty lonely.”

“Ah, yes. The inscrutability of command. She used to imitate the way her dad would lecture the family about it during dinner. It was really funny, but I always felt sorry for her. She was so driven to be the best, to do the right thing.”

“Most of the time she succeeded.”

“But, Chakotay, she also paid a price for that success. At the academy, she readily sacrificed fun and freedom to work for the highest honors possible.” They were quiet awhile before Sue went on. “Did she paint?”

He remembered the amazing work she’d done in the Voyager’s daVinci holodeck program and the occasional easel in the ready room. “She painted once in awhile,” he admitted. “Less and less as the years passed.”

“She has real talent, you know. Some people say she’s more gifted than Phoebe.” She saw his skeptical look and smiled. “You don’t believe me, because Phoebe’s professional, but Katie was just as gifted. Maybe even more so.”

“Oh, I know she has talent; some of her stuff is amazing. But she told me she deliberately chose science and math over her painting.”

“Of course, she told you that. She probably even believes it. The truth is that ‘Daddy’ didn’t approve of the fine arts much. Phoebe painted anyway. But Kathryn wanted to please him, so she naturally focused on science and math.”

Chakotay remembered some of the amazing paintings he’d seen on Voyager’s holodeck, wishing that they could have been preserved. “Too bad none of her work is on display.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She gave him a wink. “The mural above the student lounge at the academy’s Enterprise Hall was done by Katie during the spring semester of her first year at the academy. She couldn’t go on the usual summer cruise because she was recovering from an injury she suffered when the scaffolding failed. When her dad found out that she was missing the cruise because of something as frivolous as a mural, he really blew his top. I don’t think she ever took another fine arts class after that.”

“The mural in Enterprise Hall?”

“You were ahead of us in school, weren’t you? Maybe you never had a chance to see it.”

He tried to remember the lounge from his years of teaching at the Academy, but finally gave up. “If I ever saw it, I can’t picture it now. Can you describe it to me?”

“I could tell you about it, of course, but I don’t want to spoil the experience of discovering it on your own. The next time you’re at the Academy, go look at it. But, go at night when it’s quiet and you can spend some time contemplating it. You’ll be surprised by what you see.”

Their conversation had moved on to other topics, and he’d enjoyed getting to know someone who could fill him in on the many colleagues who had died, retired, or found other employment since he had left Starfleet nearly ten years earlier.

But, upon his return to Earth, he had wasted no time in coming to Enterprise Hall as soon as he could find the time. After the Starfleet commander left the lounge, Chakotay stood up and moved around the room, finding new images that had been hidden from him while at his previous perspectives, and then he’d stopped in his tracks.

At the bottom right of the mural, entwined with the artist’s initials, was an abstract wing shape which was a close approximation of the visible part of his tattoo. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it and decided he needed a much closer look. He noticed that under the window was a sofa with an end table that was positioned right under the signature. He took the lamp off and then climbed up on the table so he could reach the bottom of the mural and run his fingers over the ridges and valleys of paint.

The letters “KJ” were intricately wound around a flaring fan of lines that was alarmingly similar to his facial tattoo. Was it by sheer chance that Kathryn had woven this particular symbol into her monogram? If Chakotay were true to the beliefs of his people, a connection as profound as this one could not be written off as a coincidence. He contemplated the significance of such a clear sign, a message from the unseen spirit world that their destinies were unavoidably intertwined.

Suddenly, something brushed against his knee, and then he heard Kathryn’s voice behind him. “Chakotay? Did you hear me?”

Surprised by her abrupt arrival, he stepped too close to the edge of the table, which immediately tilted toward the sofa, throwing him off balance. For a few desperate moments, he pin wheeled his arms in a futile attempt to regain his stability while an amazed Kathryn Janeway watched, frozen in wide-eyed fascination. Finally, he pitched away from her, one leg flying up toward the ceiling, and landed with a resounding “Oomph,” face up on the leather sofa.

Her face appeared over him. “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” he replied, feeling a blush crawling up his neck. “You snuck up on me.”

“I spoke to you as I came in, but you didn’t answer,” she said, her mouth twitching involuntarily. “You could’ve been hurt, falling like that.”

“I was intent on studying the mural,” he explained, his own mouth stretching into a grin. “I must’ve been a sight.”

“Oh, yes.” She giggled slightly, struggling to keep a straight face by biting her lip and avoiding his eyes, but when she looked at him again, laughter bubbled up from her chest and she collapsed beside the sofa. She crossed her arms on his shoulder and buried her face as her body shook with amusement.

“Go ahead and laugh at me,” he cajoled her with a chuckle. “I know it must have been funny.”

“Funny? I wish you could’ve seen yourself,” she said when she finally caught her breath and looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “It was a classic fall! Why do we never have cameras when we need them?”

“Thank God you didn’t.” He shook his head at her obvious delight at his expense. “I’m glad I could provide today’s comic relief.”

“Oh, Chakotay, you don’t know how much I needed that laugh right now.”

“Tough day?”

“The absolute worst.” She smiled affectionately at him, her arm still resting on his chest. “You know how it is. After an interminable, stressful day with one stupid mistake after another, things like your fall can seem so ridiculously funny that you just lose it. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.”

“No, I actually wish I could’ve seen it myself,” he said with a smirk as he struggled to sit up. “I didn’t break the table, did I?”

“I don’t think so.” She stood up and examined the table before she put the lamp back on it. “When you said you wanted to meet me here, I had a pretty good idea why.”

He was sitting on the sofa, his elbows on his knees. “The mural is breath-taking, Kathryn.”

“I have mixed feelings about it.” She walked back a few feet, gazing up at the painting with a critical look in her eye. “How did you find out that I painted it?”

“Do you remember Susan Brown?”

“You met Brownie on your trip? How is she?”

“Teaching history on Rigel V.” He spent a few minutes filling her in on her classmate and then twisted to look behind him. “She said you were injured while painting the mural.”

“Yes, I was. I was working on it every spare minute as the spring semester came to an end. This part of the building was going to open during the summer, and I knew I had to finish before I left on the first year cruise.” She sat down in a chair across from him with a sigh. “Between this and my class work I was really overextended. I don’t know whether it was exhaustion or carelessness that caused the accident, but the scaffolding failed. I fell just about where you did just now, except I didn’t have an overstuffed sofa to break my fall.”

“Oh! You’ve told me that you hurt your back when you were a cadet.”

“Yeah. It took six weeks for me to fully recover, which meant that I missed the cruise, of course.” She sat back in the chair and studied the mural. “I was so excited when this design won the mural competition. I had no idea what a disaster it would turn out to be.”

He shrugged. “You’re an admiral. I’d say missing the first-year cruise wasn’t such a big deal in the long run.”

“Maybe not, but in the short run it caused a very big deal.”

“With your parents?”

“With my father.” She leaned her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes. “I don’t think I mentioned that the artistic talent comes from Mom’s side of the family. So, Phoebe was the artist, like the Kiernan’s. I was the one to carry on the Janeway tradition, pure math and science.”

“I thought that you’d given up on painting when you were a kid.”

“I continued to take art classes in school, and I always fiddled with it as a hobby.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “All that was supposed to come to a halt once I graduated from high school. Dad made it clear that the academy was supposed to be ‘all business,’ so I didn’t tell my parents that I was taking art classes in addition to a full load of science and math. I almost got away with it.”

“They didn’t find out until you were injured.” Both Admiral Paris and Phoebe had told him how much her father’s approval meant to her. He wondered which had hurt worse, the injured back or the fact that she’d disappointed her father. “And then you were charged with gross insubordination?”

She laughed. “Nothing that formal. Dad was more embarrassed than anything. You see, he had pulled some strings and called in a few favors so that I could do my first year cruise on Enterprise. He planned to surprise me with the news once finals were over.”

“Wow. I didn’t think the first year cruise was allowed on the big ships.”

“They aren’t. And when he found out I was injured while painting a mural . . . well, let’s just say he was very disappointed in me.” She gave him a weak smile. “So you’re looking at my final artistic fling, in a way. After that, I knew better than to let art intrude on my ‘real’ studies.”

“So, this is finished?” He glanced up at the signature block. “It’s exactly the way you wanted it to be?”

“It’s finished. I only needed another day or so to have it the way I wanted it, so I took care of that at the end of the summer.”

“So, tell me. How many figures are hidden in it?”

“Figures? What figures?” she said, her face unreadable for a moment before she gave him a wink. “That’s one reason I wanted nothing but my initials there, Chakotay, so I wouldn’t have to answer that question. We’re all seeking something in our journeys into space, and that goal varies from one person to another. Some want escape, others definition, or fulfillment, or notoriety. What one person seeks, another person doesn’t. I like to think that the mural is like that.”

“I think I joined Starfleet because I was seeking peace. I’d never felt at home with my people, and I thought Starfleet was the answer. What were you seeking, Kathryn?”

“I’m not sure I was seeking anything as much as following my instincts, Chakotay. I think I felt like it was my destiny to be out there, that I was born to do it.” Before he could ask her if that destiny was hers or her father’s, her commbadge chirped. She scowled as she tapped it. “Janeway here.”

“Admiral, we’ve received an update on the Ticonderoga’s diplomatic problem, and Admiral Hayes wants your opinion of the captain’s explanation before you leave for the evening.”

“All right. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she replied, sighing wistfully as soon as the contact was broken and rubbing her forehead as if a headache threatened. “There are some days that just never end.”

He stood up and offered her a hand. “I understand how that can be.”

She allowed him to pull her up from the chair, but then she kept his hand in hers as she looked past him at the mural. “Sometimes, even I’m surprised by what I see up there.”

He turned to look, eyes widening with surprise as the outline of a dove appeared, looking as if it were descending gracefully from the heavens toward the lower right corner where the mural was signed. “A dove,” he whispered, admiring its clean lines.

“The dove of peace,” she nodded, giving him a wicked smile. “Exactly what you said you were looking for in space. See?”

“Amazing,” he said, marveling the second striking coincidence. “How were you able to make those images appear like that?”

“Trade secret,” she joked, giving him a wink as she gazed at the mural again. “Although painting it got me in big trouble, I am proud of the mural, Chakotay, and I’m glad you like it.”

“Do you ever wonder what great work you might have done if you hadn’t put painting aside?”

She shook her head and chuckled. “Not really. I don’t have the passion for art that Phoebe has and that every true artist needs. I wasn’t willing to defy my Janeway heritage and pursue art at all costs the way an artist must. I enjoy painting and sculpting, of course, but I’m truly passionate about science and math and the thrill of exploration. Ultimately, we pursue the fields of study that ignite out passion. Don’t you agree?”

“I guess you’re right.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “I haven’t forgotten that I promised to do a painting for you when I have the time.”

“I’m holding you to that promise.”

She nodded and let go of his hand. “I need to get back to my office, but before I do . . . .” She paused, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. “Seven and I have talked now and then since she left. I thought you’d like to know that she’s doing well on Vulcan and finds their restrained culture better suited to her nature than Earth was.”

“Thanks. I’m glad to know that, and I wish her well. I’m well on the road to recovery, Kathryn. Don’t worry about me.”

“Good to know.” Kathryn checked the time and frowned. “I wish we had time for a nice leisurely dinner. I miss talking to you and hearing your opinion on dilemmas. Next time you come to San Francisco, give me a day’s notice and I’ll rearrange my schedule.”

“I’ll do that. I miss you, too.”

After a quick hug goodbye, she turned and walked toward the doorway, her commbadge chirping again before she left the room. “Janeway here,” he heard her say, and then she was gone.

He took an unhurried walk to the transport station, turning over in his mind the image of his tattoo entwined with Kathryn’s monogram and the swooping dove of peace just above it. Still deep in thought when he let himself into his apartment, he collapsed on the sofa to contemplate the afternoon’s events.

Kathryn had painted occasionally in her ready room, producing charming, if somewhat primitive landscapes that were still vivid in his memory. She had even replicated some paints and a canvas on New Earth, although she had never had time to use them. It had been during a visit to her da Vinci holodeck program when he’d come to understand the depth and breadth of her talent, but she’d simply brushed her artistic gift aside as a trifling hobby.

His eyes moved to a shelf where he displayed the few treasures he’d allowed himself to collect during his travels. The small figurine of a dog caught his attention, and he stood to retrieve it and study it for the thousandth time. The statue, barely six inches tall, was a perfect likeness of an Irish setter. He had found the original while visiting a holodeck scenario on Voyager and had replicated this copy without asking the sculptor for permission.

He had been caught by the way the artist had created the illusion of movement in the way the dog’s hair fell in long graceful waves and the way the left paw was slightly raised, as if the animal were about to leap from the clay into action, perhaps to chase a ball or a toy thrown for its enjoyment. But the truly remarkable feature was the dog’s eyes, which were alert, intelligent, and affectionate, even joyful. The very spirit of the animal had been expertly captivated in the clay as if waiting to be miraculously released into life.

He wondered if it were true that we pursue only those fields of study that ignite our passion, as Kathryn had said. He wondered if the artist would be angry with him for replicating this small dog as a reminder of all that life forces us to give up, of all the beauty that duty and responsibility takes from us without remorse. He imagined she would understand.

After all, the sculptor was Kathryn Janeway.