Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager and all things Starfleet belong to Paramount. No infringement intended.

Summary: Another take on the future following Endgame.

Safe Harbor

by Mizvoy

For those who don’t remember, Dauntless was the “Starfleet” ship that Voyager found with the alien Arturis’ help, only to discover that Arturis’ real plan was to have the crew assimilated because they had prevented species 8472 from destroying the Borg. The Dauntless, which, of course, was not a Starfleet vessel, was powered by a quantum slipstream drive (“Hope and Fear”).

Chapter 11: Dauntless, Part 1

Chakotay could hear Gretchen Janeway moving around the second story of the farmhouse as she prepared to beam to San Francisco for the memorial service. Phoebe, John, and their children were probably already there, as late as it was. He walked to the window and watched a fat robin frolic in the birdbath. It was a perfect Indiana spring.

Five years as the husband of a Starfleet admiral had taught him several useful skills. He’d learned to answer to “Mr. Janeway.” During formal dinners, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut when the conversation veered toward Federation politics or Starfleet policy. He’d learned to become invisible during a diplomatic crisis, unless he was called upon to usher the other spouses or children out of the room. But, the one lesson he’d never mastered was how to let his wife plunge into potentially dangerous missions while he stayed behind.

“You have to let her go, Chakotay,” Gretchen had advised him early in the marriage. “I was married to an admiral, too, and I know how hard it is to stay behind and do nothing, but they need to know we’re here, safe and sound, waiting for them. Don’t underestimate how hard this is for Kathryn, either.”

He smiled. Who would’ve predicted that he and his mother-in-law would have so much in common? She fascinated him, so much like Kathryn, yet so different. She’d taken him into her family without question, and he’d loved her for that.

Gretchen came into the room wearing a lovely green print dress, a hand-crocheted shawl, and a white straw hat with a wide brim. He realized that she would stand out in the Starfleet crowd like a Nausican at a Ferengi family reunion. She glanced down, smoothing the skirt with her hands, and said, “I wore black the first time. Kathryn always liked me best in green.”

“It’s your color,” he agreed. “It brings out the green in your eyes.”

The next thing he knew, Gretchen was giving him a fierce hug. “Oh, Chakotay, how can we endure this?”

He pulled her close, closing his eyes as he realized that she was the same height and build as Kathryn, a memory come to life in his arms. Kathryn, his wife. His late wife. “If you’ll hold me up,” he suggested, “I’ll hold you up.”

She nodded, chuckling softly. “That might work. Thank God you’re here. I couldn’t go through this again without you.”

Again. The first memorial service, held after Voyager’s disappearance in the Badlands, had proven to be erroneous, but this time, not even Chakotay could find reason for hope. He’d begged Kathryn not to go on the deep space slipstream test.

“You didn’t go on the Arturis for the trans-Federation test. Why go this time?”

“Because six weeks in the slipstream will take Dauntless nearly 30,000 light years away, that’s why.”

“Back to the Delta Quadrant. Your counterpart sacrificed her life to get you home last time. Who’ll save you this time?”

“I’m not going to be stuck there this time, Chakotay. That’s what the project’s about—increasing the range of our vessels to include the Delta Quadrant—and you know it.” She’d faced him with her hands on her hips, as she always did when he argued with her. “I’ve been working toward this for six long years. It’s my responsibility to lead the team.”

“Then take B’Elanna. Or Tom.”

Her eyes were cold. She was tired of this argument and beginning to lose her temper. “Starfleet restricts test flights to uniformed personnel.”

“Because it’s so dangerous.”

She sighed. “Because it’s a test. But, we’ve done hundreds of simulations. We’ve studied the Arturis’ engines after its tests. We’ve done short-range missions with Dauntless. This is the next step, Chakotay. The crew is well-trained, the best in Starfleet. I’ll be fine. Nothing bad will happen.”

“A simple mission, right? Like catching Maquis in the Badlands.”

Her anger evaporated, and she walked up to him, taking his hand. “There are always risks, of course.”

“Take me with you. Anything can happen out there, and you need someone you really trust to watch your back.”

She smiled up at him. “I can’t take my spouse along when the rest of the crew is leaving theirs behind. Besides, the crew won’t let anything happen to the admiral.”

“I’m worried about Kathryn.”

“She’ll be fine, too.” She’d said as she slipped her arms around him. “She’ll come home to you, I promise.”

He was startled when Gretchen pulled away and smiled up at him. “Are you ready to go?”

No, he didn’t want to go. He wanted to run away, to deny that anything had happened. This service was forcing him to acknowledge that she was gone, and he dreaded every moment of it. He knew Gretchen could see the fear in his eyes, because she put her hand in his to comfort him, “We’ll do this together.”

He nodded. Kathryn would expect him to be strong, to endure the ceremony with grace and courage. “I guess it’s time.”

It was not a glorious spring day in San Francisco, but the fog and cold mist were a better fit to Chakotay’s mood. In spite of the weather, the crowds outside the auditorium were large, filling the plaza between Starfleet Headquarters and the Academy. The media lined the walkway to cover “the story of the century,” the incredible story of the same Starfleet officer becoming lost in the far reaches of the Delta Quadrant, this time in the mysterious explosion of a ship that was designed to open deep space to routine exploration. Sixty-five Starfleet personnel lost.

Chakotay felt guilty because he hadn’t really seen Kathryn off. When Dauntless’ departure was moved up a week, Chakotay had been on Tau Ceti Prime promoting his new book on the Maquis. He’d been too angry and stubborn to cut his trip short and had sent her a brief “good luck, see you soon” message by subspace, instead. After all, he’d thought, according to her this was a routine mission. Why make a big deal out of it?

Later, after she was gone, he’d watched her final message to him so many times that he knew it by heart. “I was hoping to resolve our differences before I left,” she’d begun, rolling mug of coffee nervously in her hands, “but they say you’re in an interview and can’t be interrupted. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” She’d faltered. “Or maybe ‘au revoir.’ I understand how you feel about my going on this mission and wish things could be different. I wish I could have your support on this, but I don’t want you to feel guilty or have any regrets, Chakotay. I know you love me just as much as I love you.”

She’d looked away then, sipping her coffee to cover a near slip in her emotional control. “On Voyager, when something went wrong, I always looked for you. Did you know that?” Of course he did, because he’d always looked for her at the same moment. “Just knowing you were there gave me the strength and courage to keep going. I’ll miss having you beside me, but now I have you in my heart.” She gave him a weak smile. “In three months, when I get back, I’ll make this up to you. We’ll take a long vacation and decide together what’s next. We’ll never have to be apart like this again, I promise.” She’d touched the screen briefly, and then continued, “Take care of my mom and yourself, will you? It means so much to know you’re there, loving me in spite of everything I’ve done to you. I love you, Chakotay, and I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.”

Her last words always wrenched his heart, for she hadn’t let him down. He knew, and he’d known then, that she was simply doing her job. The truth was that he had let her down. She had been leaving on a dangerous mission, a test flight of a new engine and ship design, a deep space mission into unknown territory, and he’d been somewhere else pouting because she had to go without him.

He glanced at Gretchen, whose hand gripped his arm as they made their way across the plaza, a distant look on her face. When, after Dauntless was lost and he’d confessed to her what he’d done, she’d consoled him with same patience and understanding that Kathryn had always shown him.

“We’ve all done it, Chakotay, at one time or another,” she’d admitted. “We’ve all sent them off hoping that the door would hit them in the butt on the way out, and we’ve all regretted it later. It’s only human. But, ninety-nine times out of a hundred they come home in one piece, and we’re so happy to see them that we forget what we were angry about when they left. She knew you loved her. That’s what she remembered out there, believe me. And she’d want you to remember that she loved you back.”

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, she’d said, they come home in one piece.

Inside the building, they were greeted by the rest of Dauntless’ crew’s family members, a group brought close by grief in the last few months. They were seated off the stage, hidden from sight in the wings, but from his seat in the front row, Chakotay could see that most of Voyager’s crew had been seated together in the audience, almost every Starfleet member and most of the Maquis, as well. They’d come to honor the memory of their valiant captain and to show Chakotay their undying loyalty. He’d already spoken to most of them in the reunion and receptions leading up to the memorial service, already received their condolences. Kathryn would be so pleased to know that their crew, their Voyager family, was together again.

He was surrounded by people who cared about him, people who had lost just as much as he had. The entire Federation joined him in his grief. Gretchen gripped his hand as the ceremony began, and Phoebe put her arm around his shoulders. Why, then, did he feel so alone?

Five years earlier, the marriage of a Starfleet admiral and a former Maquis terrorist had electrified the Federation, and speculation on the command relationship between Voyager’s captain and first officer once again filled the airwaves. He and Kathryn had laughed when the press had romanticized their time in the Delta Quadrant—the petite and proper Starfleet captain subduing the dangerous, unpredictable Maquis rebel with the strength of her character, only to find herself captivated by his moral integrity and devastating good looks. “And it only took fifteen years,” she’d teased, her eyes twinkling.

For months, the press had reported on their lives, dramatizing the tragic circumstances that precipitated Chakotay’s defection to the Maquis, revealing how most of his Maquis raids had been directed against illegal Cardassian military outposts, illustrating his seven years of loyal and unwavering service on Voyager, and praising his quiet reentry into Federation citizenship and his brilliant scholarship and teaching skills. When his book on the history of the Maquis was published, it was universally praised for its even-handed discussion of the flawed Cardassian treaty and the polarizing effect it had on Federation society. Starfleet Academy used it as a textbook in their political science classes.

Contrary to Admiral Travers’ prediction, no one ever questioned his loyalty to the Federation or mentioned the possibility that he might compromise Starfleet security. Kathryn and Chakotay were acknowledged as one of the Federation’s most popular couples, but their carefully planned public relations job wasn’t complete until Travers wrote a positive book review.

“Listen to this,” Kathryn had said, standing up and reading from Travers’ comments as if an orator: “’Chakotay is a paradox of conformity and rebellion, a man whose moral courage is exceeded only by his personal integrity.’” Raising a glass of champagne, she said, “When we work together, Chakotay, we can do anything.”

On the dais, the speakers were praising the work done on the slipstream prototypes: Arturis and Dauntless. Chakotay still shivered when he heard the names. “Don’t name the ships after ‘Arturis’ and ‘Dauntless,’” he’d cautioned her. “It’s bad luck.”

“Don’t be silly. They’re just names.” She’d grinned at him, sure he was making a joke.

“If Arturis’ plan had worked out as he wanted, the entire crew would’ve been assimilated by the Borg.”

“But we weren’t, and that’s the point. What we learned about the quantum slipstream drive started with Arturis and his ship. It’s only logical to name the prototypes after them.”

“’Only logical’? Maybe you’d feel differently if you’d been on Voyager, desperately trying to beam you and Seven to safety before it was too late.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t a picnic on Dauntless, either, believe me. But everything came out fine.”

“You aren’t going to budge on this.”

“I’m not the superstitious type.”

He’d bristled at that, at her disregard for his more spiritual nature, but he knew she was just irritated with him. Later, she’d come to him apologetically and said, “Think of the names as defying fate. Things can’t go wrong twice if the ship has the same name.”

He’d given up, although he still felt uneasy about the mission. Perhaps he was superstitious, perhaps he feared that fate couldn’t be defied, but Kathryn simply wasn’t like him, simply didn’t have it in her nature to worry about such things. She left the worrying up to him.

As the ceremony droned on, Chakotay’s mind wandered to the huge silver building visible through the French doors along the west wall—Starfleet Communications. Reginald Barclay had arranged for Chakotay to be present when Dauntless contacted them from the Delta Quadrant. In the six weeks that had passed since Kathryn’s departure, Chakotay’s irritation had cooled off considerably, and he’d hoped his presence would reassure her of his unconditional love and support. The excitement was palpable as the expected time of contact approached.

All they’d heard was silence, or the strange subspace static that passes for silence. He tried not to panic as he watched Reg and his team widen the subspace band, filter the static time and again, and change the array’s orientation. Six hours later, Reg informed him that the problem was probably something as simple as Dauntless’ missing the exit coordinates.

“You know how hard it is to navigate inside the slipstream,” he’d theorized. “A fraction of a degree of error would throw them off by several light years. They’re probably en route to the planned exit point and will contact us soon. I’ll let you know as soon as we hear something.”

The next week had been agony. He’d isolated himself in their San Francisco apartment and imagined dozens of disastrous explanations for their failure to report. He’d fought the impulse to call Reg every hour on the hour or to stay with the team as they waited. In spite of Starfleet’s round-the-clock surveillance, there was only silence. Nothing but silence.

Reg finally decided to contact Neelix, Voyager’s Talaxian cook and morale officer who had stayed behind in the Delta Quadrant, and ask him to find out what he could about the ship.

“He’s at least ten days away from their coordinates, but he was glad to help. Perhaps their subspace transceiver was destroyed,” Reg had explained, “or their propulsion is down. Neelix can be our eyes and ears in the Delta Quadrant.”

Neelix had been delighted to help out, agreeing to search for news about the Starfleet vessel. Two more interminable weeks had passed before Reg had contacted Chakotay again. “Neelix found that Dauntless missed the exit coordinates by some one hundred light years,” he’d reported, “right in the middle of the Okingala Empire.”

Chakotay knew of the Okingala from Voyager’s days in the Delta Quadrant, a highly militaristic society with closed borders and controlled space much like what they’d experienced with the Devore. He and Kathryn had decided to skirt their territory to avoid the red tape and endless delays of an entrenched bureaucracy, and so his experience was indirect. Predictably, Neelix had been denied access to Dauntless’ exit coordinates until he’d been granted the proper clearances, a process that could take weeks, but he had been able to obtain a long distance scan of the area.

Reg paused, and the distressed look on his face made Chakotay’s blood run cold. “I’m afraid that the scan revealed only a debris field.”

“What?” Chakotay’s worst fears were being realized. “Are you sure it was the Dauntless? Did it explode, or did the Okingala destroy it?”

“It’s too soon to know what happened,” Reg replied, “but Neelix has promised to continue his investigation. We’ve begun a detailed study of the debris field and will let you know what we find out.”

Reg’s continuing updates brought little hope. Neelix sent another, more detailed scan that revealed a Starfleet signature in the debris. He later reported that it contained the proper amount of mass and biomatter to have been Dauntless. He said that no ion fields had been found leading from the site. There was no evidence of shuttle or escape pod launches, no evidence of survivors.

Chakotay heard the words, but kept their implications at bay until he could return to the privacy of his apartment. He felt numb as Tom and B’Elanna walked with him through the San Francisco streets in heartbreaking silence.

Once in private, B’Elanna voiced her skepticism with her usual Klingon fire, “Dauntless wouldn’t have exploded like that. It might emerge from the slipstream out of control, but it wouldn’t blow up! There has to be some other explanation.”

Oblivious to her chatter, Chakotay heard the word “biomatter” rattle endlessly in his brain. Biomatter referred to flesh and blood, skin and bone, clothes and boots. People. People like Kathryn, whose biomatter was now scattered in the cold vacuum of space. He’d never see her smile or hear her voice again. He’d never be able to tell her how sorry he was for his childish behavior.

His world began to close in on him as the reality of his loss became clear. Exhausted, grief-stricken, and filled with remorse, he’d turned on his friends in fury, “But it did happen, B’Elanna! It happened and they’re all dead. Finding out why or how won’t bring them back!” A huge sob wracked his body as tears spilled from his eyes. “She’s gone. Dear God, she’s dead. Kathryn!”

Tom put his arm around the wilting man and guided him to the sofa where he collapsed in tears. The next days were a blur as grief ripped through his soul. The doctor kept him sedated until he was able to better face his loss, and Chakotay had treasured those hours of oblivion when he could simply sink into unconsciousness and forget the cause of his agony. But slowly, day by day, he accepted what had happened and found the strength to face his loneliness and pain. He fought depression and despair by becoming the liaison between Starfleet and the families of Dauntless’ crew.

He repeatedly sought an answer through meditation, hoping his spirit guide would in some way help him accept his fate and understand why Kathryn had been so cruelly taken from him. Each time, his spirit guide had brushed against him affectionately, her huge golden eyes sympathetic and sad. She repeated again and again that Kathryn would not be gone until he let her go, a cryptic message he couldn’t understand. He stayed busy during the days, and suffered through the nights, his dreams filled with their happy days together.

The memorial ceremony and the reception that followed lasted for hours, leaving him emotionally drained and physically tired. Late that afternoon, as he was preparing to escort Gretchen back to Indiana, Tom Paris signaled him from the door. “I’ll be right back,” he told her as he followed Tom into the hall.

“I wanted to apologize for B’Elanna’s not coming today, Chakotay.”

He’d noticed her absence, of course. B’Elanna had continued to feel responsible for the accident and spent every waking hour pouring over sensor logs, studying Neelix’s scans, and running countless simulations in an attempt to explain what had “really happened” to the ship. “Is she sick?”

“No. Neelix sent Starfleet some new information yesterday, and she’s been locked in the study with it ever since.”

“Tom, I’m afraid she’s become obsessed with this. It’s been nearly four months. She needs to move on.”

“I know. I talked to the doc about it, but he says she has to work through it at her own pace. She loved Kathryn and the rest of the crew, you know, and she feels like she failed them in some way.”

“Then we have to convince her that she did nothing wrong. They’d want her to be happy and live her life, not wallow in guilt like this.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Bring the kids to the lake next week. Maybe I can talk some sense into her.”

“If anybody can, you can. We’ll be there, Chakotay. And thanks.”

He watched Tom walk down the deserted hall, and then rubbed his face in frustration. As hard as it was, the time had come to let Kathryn go.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Gretchen offered as they approached her dark house.

“I just want to go home and go to bed.”

“Back to San Francisco?”

“No, with all the people here for the memorial, I’d never get a quiet moment. I’m going to spend a few days at Lake George. I need some time to think.”

She put her hand on his arm and studied his face, looking for signs of depression or despair. “If you get lonely or need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“I know that, Gretchen, and it means a lot to me.” He hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Do you want me to see you in?”

She grinned. “Why? To check for bogeymen under the beds?” She sounded and looked so much like Kathryn that he looked away, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. “Thanks, Chakotay, but I’ll be fine. Get some rest and call me in a day or two.”

“I will.” He recognized an order when he heard one.

“And Chakotay,” she put a hand on his shoulder, “you’ll always be part of our family.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, hurrying into the darkness.

The cabin at Lake George was a three kilometer walk from the nearest transport station, but Chakotay welcomed the exercise and fresh air. The moon was full and its creamy light made the scenery especially beautiful. He and Kathryn had often arrived late in the evening after a long day of work. She’d called this their “road to relaxation,” claiming that they left the pressures and cares of their busy careers behind them with each step they took. In colder weather, they’d walk with their arms around each other, seeking the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies.

Chakotay had loved the day-to-day intimacy of their lives, the mundane moments of closeness that defined their relationship. The way she smelled the first cup of coffee each morning before she took a sip, the feel of her body against his as they slept, the way she smiled when she saw his face on her computer screen, the way she handed him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead of telling him that she’d ruined dinner again, the way she brushed her hair every night, all of these and other scenes came back to him with a poignancy that took his breath away.

He stopped to watch some wispy clouds pass across the moon. Two wives in seven years. He’d lost two wives in seven years, and there were times when he wanted to scream with the pain of his loss. At least with Seven he’d had a sense of closure, a chance, although brief, to tell her goodbye and make sure she knew how much he’d loved her. He’d held her in his arms as she’d drawn her last breath, smiling into her face as the light died in her eyes, and the memory of that moment had always comforted him. As difficult as it had been to watch her die, he’d been there for her when she’d needed him most.

But, with Kathryn, whom he’d loved with a deeper passion, who’d been a recurring theme in his life since the first time he’d first seen her, he had no such sense of closure. She was simply gone, and only now, months later, was the permanence and the significance of her absence beginning to sink in. In spite of their long friendship and happy marriage, there were things he still needed to tell her, comfort he still needed to receive. He’d hoped to have the rest of his life with her, and he still couldn’t accept that it wouldn’t happen, that he’d have to learn to live without her.

Fighting back tears, he let himself into the cabin and made his way to their bedroom by the moonlight shining in the windows. The big bed gleamed at him, its white comforter seeming to glow in the moonlight. “I don’t know why we need such a big bed,” he’d laughed as she snuggled up to him one night. “The way you spend the night cuddled up to me, we could get by with a cot, the way we did at the snow camp.” She’d simply laughed and snuggled closer.

He missed her, every day, and although everyone told him the pain would lessen with time, he knew it wouldn’t. Tears welled up and his throat closed in a sob. He stretched out on the bed, his arms and legs spread wide, trying to feel her presence in the smell of the pillows, the softness of the comforter. “Kathryn,” he moaned through his sobs. “Oh, Kathryn, what do I do now?”

The morning dawned dark and cold, with heavy clouds and a steady drizzle that made sleeping late a foregone conclusion. Chakotay slept so soundly that he didn’t hear his name called from the front door and didn’t hear a woman’s step in the hall.

“Chakotay! Wake up!”

He opened his eyes, confused. “Kathryn?”

“It’s B’Elanna. Did you sleep in your clothes?” She sat down on the side of the bed, rubbing his back. “Poor thing.”

He rolled over and gave her a withering look. “What’s wrong? If you came to apologize for missing the ceremony yesterday, Tom’s already explained what happened.”

“No, it’s not that, although I am sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours going over the latest batch of information from Neelix. He was finally able to visit the debris site in person.”

Irritation flared. Chakotay crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “Look, B’Elanna, it doesn’t matter any more. Let it go.”

“You might hear her through, old man.” Tom Paris leaned against the bedroom door. “It’s pretty damned interesting.”

He looked from one to the other and gave up. “Give me a few minutes. Fix some coffee or something.”

“Spoken like a true Janeway,” Tom muttered.

Twenty minutes later, Chakotay appeared in the kitchen with wet hair and wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Do I smell bananas?”

“Yes. Because B’Elanna loves banana pancakes, she thinks they’re the staff of life.”

Chakotay chuckled. “I missed dinner last night. I’ll eat anything.” He was halfway through a stack when he gave B’Elanna a long look. “These are actually pretty good. You said Neelix finally got into Okingala space. How did he manage that?”

“Bribery, I imagine. I think there’s a pretty healthy black market operating in the Empire.”

“I always figured him to be an operator. So, what did he find?”

“Not only did he get a close-up scan of the debris, he got samples.” She shoved a PADD toward him.

Chakotay studied the readout and frowned. “This almost looks like a Cardassian signature.”

“Not almost, Chakotay,” she crowed. “It is Cardassian. The debris field is mostly Starfleet, but there’s a Cardassian signature mixed in, as well.”

He put down his fork. “I don’t get it.”

She took the PADD and called up another screen. “This shows there were both Starfleet and Cardassian weapons’ fire. Dauntless didn’t explode. It was destroyed by a Cardassian ship at close range, but not before the Cardassians were destroyed, too.”

Chakotay shook his head. “That makes no sense whatsoever. How could a Cardassian ship have gotten 30,000 light years from here? Isn’t their slipstream project years behind ours?”

“Yes. But, if they can get us to slow down, they’ll catch up.” Starfleet had suspended Kathryn’s project pending a determination of what destroyed the prototype. The Cardassians had already gained nearly six months.

Suddenly, the pancakes in Chakotay’s stomach felt like lead. The Cardassians had slaughtered nearly his entire family, destroyed his village, pillaged his home planet, and now they’d murdered his wife. He reined in his temper, but his voice was deadly calm. “How did they do it?”

“They probably piggy-backed,” Tom said. “You know that the field generated by the Dauntless is big enough to take another ship or two along with it.”

B’Elanna handed him a second PADD. “This is the telemetry of Dauntless when it entered the transwarp conduit. Notice the energy spike?”

“What would cause something like that?”

“Lots of things. We noticed it, of course,” B’Elanna shrugged. “The power readings were within normal parameters. Now I realize it was the shuttle. A cloaked shuttle. And it probably stayed cloaked for the whole six weeks they were in the conduit.”

“Where did they get the cloaking device?”

“There’s no way to tell, but I’d guess the Romulans.” B’Elanna flipped through a few screens. “I might be able to piece it together with a little more analysis.”

“Wouldn’t Dauntless notice the extra power drain caused by the piggy- backed ship?”

“Not necessarily,” B’Elanna answered. “It was a small shuttle, and the extra power required would’ve been negligible. But, Kathryn had six weeks with almost nothing to do but study the engines, and I know from experience that even a one percent dip in power would eventually drive her crazy. She’d systematically eliminate all the possible causes, and then she’d start on the impossible ones—like a cloaked vessel.”

Chakotay fought against the fury building in him. They all knew that the slipstream drive created a crippling drain on the engines and that when Dauntless reentered normal space, she would be without shields or weapons for ten to fifteen minutes while the engines recovered.

“Dauntless would’ve been a sitting duck.” He frowned. “But, wait. Didn’t you say there was evidence of Starfleet weapons’ fire?” When B’Elanna nodded, he asked, “Could they have solved the energy drain problem?”

“Not unless Kathryn changed the laws of physics.”

“She could’ve fired on the ship while they were still in the slipstream.”

“But she didn’t. I think the shuttle must have been very close to the Dauntless, too close. Destroying the shuttle, or even crippling it, could’ve thrown them out of the slipstream or damaged Dauntless beyond repair.”

“But, how else could they have fired on the Cardassians?” He stood up and paced, trying to figure out the problem. “The shuttle. Dauntless’ shuttle would’ve had an independent power source and would’ve had weapons and shields available.”

B’Elanna smiled and gave Tom a wink. “I told you he’d figure it out. You owe me.”

Chakotay ignored the comment, pushing on with his theory. “Could they have opened the shuttle bay while in the slipstream?”

Tom nodded. “In fact, opening the bay could account for their overshooting the exit coordinates. I spent half the night working it out.”

“So, the shuttle fired from inside the shuttle bay and took the Cardassians out with them.”

“That’s what I thought, too, at first,” B’Elanna agreed. “But then I remembered that we’re talking about Kathryn Janeway. She wouldn’t have settled for that. She’d want to take out the Cardassians and save the Dauntless, if she could.”

His eyes were distant, unfocused. “She always said that when you don’t like the choices, change the parameters. You have a theory, don’t you?”

“I think she intended to deflect the Cardassian weapons with the shuttle’s shielding and then fire on them before they could react.”

“Is it possible to launch a shuttle and leave the slipstream simultaneously?” Chakotay wondered.

Tom snorted. “I spent the other half of the night trying to figure that one out. It would be a rough ride for the shuttle. I’d give it a fifty-fifty chance of leaving the shuttle bay in one piece. They’d have shields and weapons, but flight control would be nearly impossible. I’d give the whole plan less than a thirty percent chance.”

“Something is better than nothing,” Chakotay mumbled. “It might’ve worked. And even if they failed to deflect the weapons, they could fire on the Cardassians when they dropped their cloak. They were probably hoping to cause enough damage to prevent them from destroying Dauntless.”

“It was the only chance they had to save the ship,” Tom pronounced. “Really, it was a courageous idea.”

“So all three ships were destroyed.”

“Maybe, but not here,” B’Elanna said, pushing the PADD toward him again. “These scans of the debris found enough mass for Dauntless and a shuttle, and we assumed the shuttle was the one in her shuttle bay. But this shows it was a Cardassian shuttle, not a Starfleet one.”

“I’m confused. What happened to the Dauntless’ shuttle?”

B’Elanna shrugged. “I don’t know. If its shields were at full power when the Dauntless’ warp core breeched, it could be anywhere in a two sector radius.”

“Wouldn’t it have been destroyed?”

“I don’t think so, although close proximity to a warp core breech is never a pleasant experience. The shuttle might’ve been disabled, but the crew probably survived.”

“How many would’ve been on the shuttle, I wonder?”

“No more than four.”

Chakotay walked to the front windows and watched the rain drip from the trees. Kathryn would’ve commanded the shuttle, he was sure of it. She wouldn’t relieve Captain Strong of command, and she wouldn’t think of letting anyone else take the shuttle when the odds for success were so low. And even if she weren’t on the shuttle, somebody was, and they were now stranded 30,000 light years from home. He turned to his friends. “Has Starfleet seen this information?”

“They gave me this copy two days ago when it came in,” B’Elanna answered. “I haven’t talked to them about it.”

“Do they know what you know?”

B’Elanna shook her head. “I doubt it. They won’t even look at it until Monday.”

“And you haven’t taken this to them?” Chakotay asked.

Tom gave his wife a long look and sighed. “We didn’t think it would do much good. The Cardassians aren’t about to admit that they sabotaged the mission. They’ll say Neelix’s data was garbled in transmission, or that someone faked the readings to put the blame on them. They’ll say our scenario is flawed, that there was no battle, or even that the Okingala’s ships and weapons are such a close match to theirs that we’ve been mislead. It’ll take forever to resolve the issue.”

“Diplomacy.” Chakotay said it as if it were a dirty word. It was diplomacy that had put Dorvan V in harm’s way, and it was diplomacy that had prevented Starfleet from protecting its innocent citizens. “You’re right. They’ll let the Cardassians get away with destroying the ship. At most, they’ll file a protest with their embassy.” He clenched his fists, furious. “And what about the survivors in the shuttle? What will happen to them?”

“Nobody knows for sure that anyone survived,” B’Elanna replied softly. “But we can ask Neelix to find out all he can about an alien shuttle showing up somewhere in the region.”

“Good. Do that. We need all the information we can get about their location.”

“What can we do to help from here?” she wondered.

The room was silent. Chakotay imagined Kathryn piloting the shuttle, enduring a torturous launch from the Dauntless only to witness its destruction. She would’ve enjoyed blowing up the Cardassian ship, and she wouldn’t have cared what happened afterwards. But he cared. He cared a great deal. The beginnings of a plan took shape in his mind.

“Until or unless?” he mumbled, remembering his spirit guide.

B’Elanna narrowed her eyes. “What did you say?”

“Did she say Kathryn would not be gone until . . . or unless I let her go?”

Tom shook his head. “Did who say what?”

Chakotay didn’t explain. His spirit guide had said that Kathryn wouldn’t be gone unless he let her go. “We have to go find them and bring them home.”

“We’re talking about the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay,” B’Elanna reminded him. “Thirty thousand light years from here.”

“I realize that. But we do have the Arturis.”

“I hope I know where you’re going with this,” Tom said.

Chakotay gave him a brief glance. “Wasn’t there discussion about sending the Arturis to the Delta Quadrant in a series of shorter slipstream jumps?”

“Yes, but that was before we found out that Dauntless had been destroyed,” B’Elanna replied, slowly. “Starfleet won’t risk another crew and the Arturis to check on a handful of survivors who may or may not be alive.”

“They probably won’t. But I will.”

“Oh, boy,” Tom grinned, rubbing his hands together. “You’re going to need a good pilot.”

He gave his friend a grin. “Where is the Arturis, B’Elanna?”

“On Starbase 25, in dry dock. But it’s returning to Utopia Planetia in the next month or so.”

Chakotay’s mood lifted. Last night he’d wondered whether he could live through another day, yet today, for the first time in months, he was excited about the future. He had something to live for. He had hope. Real hope. “That’s perfect. Are you two willing to help me?”

Tom could barely contain his excitement. “We wouldn’t let you do this alone, old man.”

B’Elanna merely sighed, resigned to her fate. “Once a Maquis, always a Maquis.”

to be continued