Community Property

by mizvoy

Part 2.1 I Spy

Two Years after Voyager’s Return
January 15, 2380—Eleven months later
Dorvan V

“Dorvan isn’t much like I remember it,” Chakotay said as he and his sister, Liana, walked along the river that had once bordered their parents’ village. The Cardassian barrage of the planet more than a decade earlier had eradicated the population and had also changed the landscape.

“Part of the reason might be that you never lived here, and you only visited a couple of times after the family moved here from Trebus.”

“Five times. You weren’t here the last two, when Father and I argued so much. You’d gotten married and moved back to Trebus by then.”

“I heard all about the arguments, though. Mother was really upset.”

“So was I, and for good reason. I knew the Cardassians couldn’t be trusted.”

“The course of the river wasn’t changed. The village used to be just north of this turn, and we kids would come down to this pool to swim. I can recognize way some of the rocks are arranged and the curve of the river, but, truthfully, Dorvan isn’t much like I remember it, either.”

“I tried hard to get our family to leave, Liana.” He stopped a moment to pick up a stone and studied it as they walked, finally tossing it into the river. “I really regret that I didn’t tell Dad and everyone else how much they meant to me.”

“Oh, Chakotay, they knew you loved them.”

“If he had only listened to me, maybe he and the others would still be alive.” They stopped at an outcropping of rock and sat down to watch the sunset as the river gurgled past them and then slowed in a deep blue pool. “What was that orange berry our Mother made into preserves?”

“The saziberry—the perfect blend of sour and sweet. That’s gone, too, as are all of the indigenous plants and animals.”

Chakotay nodded and then studied their surroundings. Following the end of the Dominion War, the Federation had restored the ecology of Dorvan, but much of the planet’s unique charm had been lost forever. The climate had been permanently altered, less arid than it had been originally, and the plants had been replaced by compatible vegetation and animals from other planets, including Earth. The result was an amalgamation that seemed as artificial as a holodeck simulation.

“This is where we used to come to swim,” Liana sighed, gazing into the pool. “The water is deep enough for diving and refreshingly cool on a hot summer day. There were tall trees that arched out over the water, and we used to swing out on ropes and drop in to see who could make the biggest splash.” She gave him a shy smile. “If I close my eyes, I can hear the voices of my friends in the wind.”

Chakotay put an arm around her shoulders. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m sorry.”

“They’re at peace, and we should be, too.” She snuggled into his solid body and gave him a measured look. “How’s your job?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. I’m having great fun hauling cargo around.”

She giggled. “Just as long as that’s all you’re doing.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve been hearing that some transport pilots have found evidence of a smuggling ring that operates out of the Badlands. You wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Are you accusing me of smuggling?” He glared at her, trying to deflect her line of questioning.

“No, I’m accusing you of sticking your nose into things that you shouldn’t. I hope you aren’t one of the people sending information to the authorities and meddling in things that could get you killed.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you always want to be the hero, just like every other Starfleet officer.”

“I’m not in Starfleet anymore, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Don’t I?” She studied his face and then closed her eyes. “Somehow the Federation has gotten wind of smugglers and has sent a Starfleet ship to look into it.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. They’re sending the Hankeel, Intrepid class, the same kind of ship as Voyager, along with a few smaller ships to patrol the area.”

She gave him a close look. “You didn’t have anything to do with those ships coming out here, I hope.”

“You overestimate my influence in Starfleet ship assignments,” he chuckled, giving her a wink.

“Well, I didn’t think you issued the ship’s orders, but you seem to know an awful lot about what’s going on.”

“Tuvok is the first officer on the Hankeel, and he might have mentioned something to me about it.” At the confused look on her face, he continued, “He was the security officer on Voyager. You didn’t meet him after the ship returned because he was on Vulcan undergoing a medical procedure.”

“Oh, the Vulcan.” She shifted to face him. “I know you transport pilots see a lot out there, good and bad. I’m just warning you not to feel compelled to pass your suspicions and observations on to Starfleet.”

“I haven’t admitted to doing anything like that, Liana.”

“Maybe I should ask you point blank. Have you spied on the smugglers so you could send the information to Starfleet.”

He looked down at his hands and murmured, “Are you sure you want me to answer that question?”

“Oh, God, I was afraid of this. Remember that I talk to members of your crew. I know you run scans of surrounding space during your delivery runs. Are you tracking the smugglers?”

He wasn’t surprised by her accusation, but he was taken aback by her anger. It was normal for her to suspect him of informing Starfleet, based on his history with them, but she seemed to think he was putting himself—and perhaps the colony–at risk in the process.

“I perform scans to be sure my ship is safe, Liana, just in case pirates decide they want to steal some of the goods I have in my cargo hold, or, worse, take my ship. I know how poorly the smugglers treat informers, and I’m not anxious to experience that treatment first hand.”

“I hope that’s the truth,” she answered, giving him a worried look. “You know about the ships that the smugglers have destroyed in and around the Badlands.”

“I know better than you do.” Chakotay thought about what he’d seen while hauling supplies to the colonies. The pirates often wanted ships as much as they did the cargo. He knew that the stolen ships were now hauling the smugglers’ supplies or contraband and suspected that the crews had been kidnapped, paid off, or forced to join the pirate crew. “Not all of the ships have been destroyed, Liana. Some are being used by the smugglers.”

“To carry drugs?”

He nodded. “I hear they deal in several drugs—triptacederine and hydrocorteline to name two. They bring a high price out here in the colonies.”

“I thought they were pain killers.”

“They are,” he laughed, giving her a wink. “And when you use them, you feel no pain.”

“Humph.” She shook her head. “And what about the crews?”

“Some of them have taken money for the ships and disappeared. Some of them are basically slaves for the smugglers. Eventually, most of them end up dead.”

“That’s what I’m worried will happen to you, Chakotay. I know you won’t sell out. They’ll kill you or make your work somewhere awful.”

“They have to catch me first.”

“Don’t joke about this,” she snapped. “This is a matter of life and death.”

“You’re right about that. The more powerful these smugglers become, the more dangerous they are.”

“You take your life in your hands to be near the Badlands these days, much less the Cardassian border.”

“And that’s why I don’t go near either one, Liana, and not just because of the smugglers. The Cardassians still have a price on my head, remember.”

“I wish I knew that threat would slow you down. You always do the right thing, no matter what the cost. That’s why you joined Starfleet, and that’s why you resigned and joined the Maquis.” She clucked her tongue in a way that reminded him of their mother. “Sometimes it’s better to mind your own business, Chakotay.”

He gathered some loose stones and stood up so he could toss them into the pool of water, watching the rings spread out toward the shore. “’Sometimes’ is the operative word, Liana. Minding their own business didn’t do our parents much good, did it?” He saw the worried look on her face and gave her a reassuring smile. “When a stone is thrown into the pond, the rings affect everything around it to a certain degree. The same thing happens when smugglers are allowed to operate without fear. If we ignore it, we can still be swamped by the waves.”

“Just don’t try to be a hero.”

“I promise I won’t try to be a hero.”

“And promise me that you will leave the problem of the smugglers to Starfleet.”

“I promise. I wouldn’t do anything that would put Dorvan or Trebus in harm’s way, but I’m not sorry to hear that Starfleet is sending ships to help stabilize the region. Smugglers can quickly undermine the status quo we’ve worked so hard to restore.”

“Do you think Starfleet will catch them?”

“They will if they’re smart, and they usually are. Tuvok will make sure of that.” He squinted at the orange sun sliding behind the trees. For a moment, he imagined how he would approach the problem of finding and arresting the criminals and wished that he could play a part in the mission. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “The smugglers are pretty cocky, but I don’t think they can avoid Starfleet for long.”

“You miss it, don’t you?” she asked, seeing the shadow of regret in his eyes. “You miss being in Starfleet, hunting down smugglers, putting your life on the line.”

“In some ways, I do miss it. When I was in Starfleet, I could make a difference in the lives of the people around me. Now, I’m just a glorified delivery boy.”

“You underestimate how important your job is. We couldn’t survive without the supplies and medicines you bring us.”

“Oh, I know that. And, Starfleet protocols often kept me from doing what I knew was the right thing.”

“That’s why you joined the Maquis.”

“Exactly.”

They started back toward the settlement, her arm laced through his, and Chakotay hoped that the discussion had ended. Even though he had been back in the Alpha Quadrant for two years, Liana remained fascinated by his time on Voyager and seldom let a chance go by to interrogate him about the ship, his brief marriage, and the crew. As it turned out, this time was no exception.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and said, “You miss the Voyager crew, too, don’t you?”

“I miss some of them.”

“I think you were happier on Voyager than you have been in many years.”

“Oh, really?” he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “What makes you say that?”

“You sounded happy in the letters you sent me, content with your life and pleased with the people who surrounded you.” She paused a moment, and Chakotay held his breath, certain that she was about to bring up a delicate and painful subject. “It seemed to me that the captain had a lot to do with your happiness, yet, to my knowledge, you never talk to her now.”

“She’s an admiral now.” He shrugged. “We’re still friends.”

“Friends don’t ignore friend’s messages.”

He stopped walking and turned his back on her, taking in the sunset that filled the sky with crimson light. “She’s just one friend out of many, Liana. I keep track of her through our mutual friends.”

“And the letters that your captain has asked me to deliver to you?” She waited a moment before she asked, “Have you finally answered them?”

Chakotay frowned. “No, I haven’t answered them.”

“Have you even read them?”

“Liana,” he turned and gave her an irritated look, “whether I’ve read them or not is my own business.”

“So you haven’t read them. That’s not like you.” She walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I worry about you, Chakotay. Your life has been fraught with turmoil, from the day you told Father you wanted to join Starfleet as a young boy. You seemed happy
enough in Starfleet until the Cardassians ruined everything, and then you were just angry and lashing out. Voyager seemed to mute that anger. When you left Starfleet, I’d hoped that you’d be content with your life out here, but now I wonder.”

“Wonder about what?”

“I wonder whether you’ll ever be content. I talk to people on Trebus, and I know that you keep to yourself, travel constantly, refuse to date any of the women who flirt with you.”

“I have lost all interest in women,” he proclaimed, his mouth twitching into a grin.

Liana laughed aloud. “Now I know something is wrong.”

He chuckled. The family joke was that he never denied himself female companionship for long, and it was true that he’d never been without a steady girlfriend while growing up. “I just need time to get over my divorce, that’s all.”

“You’re blaming this on Seven of Nine?”

“No, of course not. My track record with women hasn’t been good in recent years, as you know.” He felt a blush warming his face. “I’ve decided that it might be best to embrace celibacy.”

“You must be joking.” Her eyes widened when she saw how serious he was. “I’ve talked to the Voyager crew members, and they tell me that the divorce is just part of it. They say you are more upset by the loss of a friend who is impossible to replace.”

He sighed and gave her a rueful look. “Let me guess. We’re talking about the admiral again.”

“You let Seven come between you, didn’t you?”

“It’s just that Seven had a stronger claim on her time, a more desperate need for her help than I did. And when I realized that my presence was causing more unhappiness and discomfort to everyone involved, I decided to find greener pastures.”

“Oh, Chakotay. You ran away.”

His temper flared. “No, I didn’t run away. I just gave everyone the room they needed to get over the divorce.”

“You should at least read the admiral’s messages and see what she has to say. It’s obvious that she still wants to keep the lines of communication open.” She waited for him to respond, and when he refused to speak, she continued, “She was in a tough position, caught between two friends, and you should give her the benefit of the doubt. She must miss you, or she wouldn’t keep sending these messages to you.”

He shuddered as a flash of anger ignited deep within. “She wants to have everything her way, that’s all. She wants to call the shots again, just as she did on Voyager, and she wants me to come running like her loyal first officer always did.”

“Why so angry?” She studied his profile, wondering what else it might be that was bothering him, when her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’re still in love with her.”

He slid his eyes sideways at her, and then closed them. “Of course not.”

“That would certainly explain a lot. You know, it might help to imagine what it was like to be in her position. She was always caught in the middle, forced to respond to Seven’s need for help and protection, forced to put her friendship with you aside for a while. Yet, through all of this, she has never once been asked what she wants. You and Seven have made all the decisions, and she’s just had to do the best she can with the outcome.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” He rubbed his face.

“Yet, in spite of it, she continues to reach out to you. Read the messages, Chakotay. Promise me?”

He shrugged, still unwilling to open old wounds. “I will—when I’m ready.”

“I guess that’s the best I can hope for.” They resumed their leisurely walk back to the settlement. “How long will you be here? Will you stay the weekend?”

“It all depends on when the next shipment is ready, I guess.”

“My children will be thrilled to have you around a bit longer. I wish you would reconsider and make Dorvan your home base, so we could spend more time together.”

“When the transport company opens a permanent office here, I’ll see about it.”

“That will be wonderful. It’s important to stay close to your family.”

Chakotay pulled her arm through his. “That’s true unless they become too bossy.”

“I just want you to be happy, brother.”

“So that’s why you harass me?” He laughed. “Making me suffer so that I’ll be happy reminds me of the saying, ‘this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.’”

“Pain isn’t always a bad thing, you know. It lets you know what issues still need to be healed.”

“But, Liana, some scars ache for a lifetime.”

“Oh, I know.” She squeezed his arm. “I just hope that, in your case, this pain that troubles you will someday disappear for good.”

“And sometimes pain is all we have to remember a happy time that is gone forever.”

Tears filling her eyes, Liana looked around at her altered home world and nodded. “I’m happy here with my husband and family, and yet always a continuing sadness over what I’ve lost. As I grow older, I realize that all experiences are bittersweet.”

“Yes,” he replied, thinking of all the precious things that Voyager’s return had cost him. “Bittersweet is right—good and bad all mixed together.”

“So we hold onto the sweet and let the bitterness die away.”

“When you learn how to do that, promise you’ll teach me?”

Liana laughed, “I promise.”

Part 2.2 DS9

Jan. 15, 2380– The Same Day
Deep Space Nine

“Terok Nor. Not a terribly poetic name.” Kathryn Janeway walked along the upper level of the station’s Promenade with Commander Tuvok at her side. They’d just left a dinner meeting hosted by Colonel Kira and were walking off the rich meal before they returned to the Hankeel, which was docked at one of the station’s upper pylons. “That’s what the Cardassians called this place, you know.”

“Indeed.”

She looked at him with curiosity. “You told Kira that this is your first visit to the station.”

“It is. As you recall, I was still under cover with the Maquis when Voyager stopped here nine years ago.”

“Of course, that’s right. How could I forget?” She glanced around at their austere surroundings. “I find this place less than hospitable.”

“That is hardly a surprise. The station was originally designed to process uridium ore that was mined on Bajor.”

“That explains a lot, but, honestly, it’s about as warm and welcoming as any other Cardassian-built facility I’ve ever visited. The lighting is barely sufficient, it’s too damned hot, and the whole place reeks of rokassa juice.”

“The temperature, while excessive for humans, actually suits me quite well.” Tuvok sniffed the air with a frown. “And I don’t smell rokassa juice.”

“So much for the Vulcan superior olfactory sense,” she quipped, giving him a wry grin.

He failed rise to the bait. “I believe you’re simply prejudiced against anything Cardassian.”

“That may be it,” she admitted. She paused at the railing and looked down at the lower level where a Bajoran mother shepherded two young boys past Quark’s Bar, trying to keep them from gawking at a nearly naked Dabo girl beckoning customers to enter the establishment. “I have no special place in my heart for Cardassians.”

“If I remember correctly, you were once captured and imprisoned by them.”

“Yes, and I have unconfirmed suspicions that they played a role in the shuttle crash that killed my father and fiancé.” She turned and leaned against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing through the towering windows toward the pylons that arched gracefully overhead. “I have a long, unhappy history with them, to be sure.”

“And yet you took on this assignment—to find and arrest the drug lords who are plaguing the Cardassians.”

“I was wondering how long it would be before you asked ask me about that.” She gave him a fond look.

Tuvok had become the first officer of the Intrepid class ship, Hankeel, six months earlier, about the same time that Janeway had taken over the “Romulan desk” at Starfleet HQ during the Shinzon uprising and in the tumultuous months that followed. However, when she heard that the Hankeel had been ordered to DS9, she had volunteered to take the mission, a fact that had surprised him. She had arrived at DS9 just an hour before Kira’s meeting commenced, making this the first chance they’d had to talk privately since they had last been together on Earth.

“You must admit, Admiral, that seeking out an alleged drug smuggling ring is not your usual assignment.”

“Oh, it isn’t that different from any other assignment, is it? The thought of staying any longer at Starfleet Headquarters when I could be busy here was something I wasn’t ready to face.”

“And your work on Romulus?”

“That situation is cooling down nicely,” she chuckled, “and they were threatening to send me to Romulus. Have you been there? It’s not exactly a vacation spot. Most of the ticklish diplomacy is finished. Now it’s just a matter of maintaining what has been set in place and decorating the military attaché’s office suite.” She scrunched her nose in disdain.

“So, you are here, even though the mission might mean that you have to work closely with the Cardassians?”

“We won’t have to speak to them if we work fast and get this resolved. The Cardassian government is still in shambles, and there are dozens of factions vying for power. It would take a miracle for them to get organized behind a single spokesperson when the leadership changes from day to day.”

“Keeping the lines of communication open during a time of flux is difficult.”

“Yes, it is, but it plays well into this particular situation. Starfleet is stretched thin. The last thing we need is a strong, nosy Cardassian government that wants to ‘help’ us hunt down smugglers.”

“Do you believe we can finish quickly enough?”

“Time will tell.”

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “And what will you do when this assignment if completed?”

“I have no idea. I keep asking myself why I took this damned promotion when I much prefer standing on my own bridge. Oh, there are other benefits. For example, the Romulan problem kept me from ‘helping’ Seven as much as she wanted and forced her to experience some much-needed independence. My absence now will make it more likely that she’ll no longer need me as desperately as she did a year ago.”

“She has made remarkable strides in the last six months. I had the opportunity to visit with her and EMH at Dr. Zimmerman’s laboratory a few months ago, and she seemed to have regained much of the maturity that she was exhibiting during those last months on Voyager.”

“I think so, too.” Janeway pushed away from the railing and began to walk once again. “Taking care of this drug smuggling problem will go a long way toward normalizing our diplomatic relations with the Cardassians, and I enjoy defusing a potentially explosive confrontation, not to mention bringing criminals to justice.”

“It’s quite likely that the mission will require a return to the Badlands.” He fell into step beside her. “Neither of us had the best of luck during our last visit to the region.”

“Luck, Tuvok?” she replied, her mouth quirking into a grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were superstitious.

“Superstitions are illogical.”

“That’s more like it,” she laughed. They walked quietly for a few moments as Janeway waited for him to address the unspoken issue between them. Finally giving up, she said, “Are you going to ask me about the rumors?”

He gave her a stern look. “Rumors?”

“The rumors about the identity of our informant?”

“I put very little credence in rumors, Admiral.”

“Oh, Tuvok, don’t even try to lie to me,” she laughed, wagging a finger at him. “We both know that any security officer worth his salt never ignores a good rumor. I’m sure you heard every rumor anyone whispered on Voyager.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Then, let me rephrase my remark. In this case, I’ve heard no rumors worthy of my regard.”

“Really?” She stopped to face him. “Now that surprises me. Are you suggesting that you haven’t heard whispers about who this anonymous informant might be?”

“There is an anonymous informant?” He waited as she simply tapped her foot; he knew quite well there was information coming from somewhere. “While the identity of the informant would be helpful, it isn’t critical to the performance of our mission.”

“It might be critical to the validity of the information, don’t you think?”

“Not if the informant is who I suspect it might be.”

“So you have heard the rumors.”

“Of course.” His face betrayed no emotion, even though Janeway realized that he must be a curious as she was. “In this case, rumors represent nothing but sheer speculation.”

“Yet, rumors do, at times, point us in the right direction.”

The Vulcan inclined his head slightly. “I have found that they do, at times, contain a kernel of truth.”

“Exactly.” She decided not to gloat over her minor victory and pressed on. “Whoever this informant is, he or she is risking everything to tell us what he or she knows, don’t you think?”

“Indeed. If the smugglers determine the informant’s identity before we subdue them, his or her life could be in danger.”

“What kind of person would risk so much to get rid of a drug ring?”

“A competitor, perhaps?”

Janeway laughed aloud. “Oh, Tuvok, you can be so droll, and with such a straight face.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied, his expression inscrutable.

“A competitor would risk being caught, too, if he turned in the smugglers. No, the informant has to be a person of high principle, a person who believes in doing the right thing, no matter what the cost.” She looked up at him. “Don’t you think?”

“That is another possibility.”

She smiled. “Doesn’t that sound like someone we know? Someone who lives and works in this region of space?”

“Are you suggesting, Admiral, that a former member of Voyager’s senior staff might be the informant?”

“Shhh. Not here.” She looked around at the deserted deck, lowering her voice. “Many transport ships travel extensively in the region where these smugglers operate, and many of Voyager’s crew work for them. It could be any number of people.”

Tuvok had known all along, of course, that Chakotay was rumored to be the informant, and he wasn’t surprised that Janeway had heard what he had. It would be in character for Chakotay to be involved in compiling and submitting the clandestine reports. He wondered if Janeway hoped to make contact with Chakotay while she was in the area, yet refrained from asking the question point blank.

“Should I bother to enumerate the many unfounded and wishful assumptions on which your suggestion is based?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” she grinned. “You know as well as I do that Starfleet’s efforts to nail down the informant’s identity have failed—and that alone says a lot about the person’s cunning, don’t you think?”

“It tells me that this informant is experienced in subterfuge and is aware of the extraordinary need for confidentiality in this case.”

“And that’s why I have a good feeling that the informant might be–.” She stopped, unwilling to speak Chakotay’s name even in the relative security of the DS9. “Well, you-know-who.”

“I’ve wondered if these rumors are your personal motive for taking this mission, Admiral.”

They arrived at the entryway to the docking rings and let their conversation lapse as they went through security, Tuvok’s question still hanging unanswered between them. When, a few moments later, they arrived at her new quarters on the Hankeel, she looked over her rooms and found that her aide had unpacked her bags for her.

“One of the nice perks about being an admiral is having an aide like Jeanine,” Janeway remarked as she glanced at the replicator. “Would you like some tea?”

“Allow me to serve you, Admiral.”

She sank onto the sofa, grateful for the chance to rest. The trip from Earth had been long and tiring. When he brought her a steaming mug of coffee, she gestured for him to join her. “I assume that we can speak freely here?”

“The room is secure and the ship has adequate shielding from any eavesdropper on the station,” he answered. He sat down across from her.

“I’ve been itching to look at these files since Kira gave them to us.” She pulled a data chip from a tiny pocket in her uniform and picked up a tricorder that her aide had conveniently left on the coffee table. “Have you seen the latest data, Tuvok?”

“I have not. Kira indicated that she would not transmit the informant’s latest update over subspace nor would she give it to anyone but you.”

“That’s what she told me, too, which only tells me that we have something very sensitive here. Give me a minute. Once I’ve looked at it, I’d like your independent analysis.”

“Very well.”

Tuvok templed his fingers and calmed his mind as Janeway delved into the report.

The aftermath of the Dominion War had opened the door to two ancient professions—piracy and smuggling. Starfleet lacked the ships and personnel to resume their previous level of patrol along trade routes and border regions near the Badlands. Some planets, like Bajor, had tried to fill in the gap with their own militia and had been marginally effective in keeping down the piracy, but vast areas of space between the planetary systems were infrequently monitored, creating a haven for smugglers.

The residents of the entire region were worried about this thriving criminal element but were afraid to come forward with information. In the silence of fear, the smugglers prospered and Starfleet naively believed that “no news was good news.”

That complacency had been shattered by the informant’s reports of the size and arrogance of the smuggler’s influence. Starfleet had also received formal complaints from Cardassia claiming that they had confiscated several large caches of marajii crystals and other drugs on three of their stations nearest the DMZ. They blamed the drug trade on small transport ships that also delivered food and construction materials from an area of space near the Badlands. The fact that these ships were protected by powerful and expensive Restaii fighters while they were in open space supported Cardassia’s claim that their cargo was much more valuable than bread and power conduits.

“It’s worse than we thought.” Janeway looked up from the PADD with an unhappy scowl on her face. “Starfleet should have responded to this alleged smuggling ring months ago, Tuvok. Years ago.”

“You find the information trustworthy?”

“I sure do, and I’m convinced that this mission is important for a variety of reasons. This drug ring threatens to undermine the fragile balance of power along the entire Cardassian border. The smugglers have impressive protection and firepower, more than the Bajoran fleet can handle. If we allow the smuggling to continue unabated, we take the risk that the Cardassians will cross the demilitarized zone and take care of it for us, and I have a feeling they won’t be anxious to leave.”

”We can’t let that happen.”

“No, we can’t, but that isn’t all that’s at risk here. Critical trade lanes are under the shadow of a real threat.” She picked up her coffee mug, took a drink, and sat back on the sofa. “All ships that travel through the region, whether they’re carrying cargo or personnel, need to do so without the threat of a criminal element operating in the same trade lanes. Because Starfleet has been unable to patrol the region adequately, most transport companies have banded together and hired independent security vessels to protect them, including a few that use Restaii fighters, maybe the same ones that the smugglers use. For that reason, we can’t jump to the conclusion that any transport ship with a Restaii escort is suspicious.”

“True. We’d be better off finding the location of the processing plant and hitting them where it really hurts.”

“I agree.” She handed him the PADD. “Take a look and let me know what you think.”

While Tuvok reviewed the data, Janeway gazed blindly out of Hankeel’s windows at the elegant structure of the station, marveling at how graceful it was on the outside compared to the stark ugliness of its interior. When she heard Tuvok shift in his seat, she turned to face him.

“Well?” she asked.

“No wonder the informant reported these smugglers to us. They are operating with impunity in both Federation space and the Badlands.”

“Yes, they are. Whoever this informant is, he must have felt that it was well worth risking his life and his ship to provide us with this information.”

“His life and ship?”

She nodded as she picked up the PADD and pulled up a recent scan. Handing it to him, she asked, “The data is carefully structured to prevent us from finding out the informant’s identity, but look at the format.”

He glanced at the feedback and studied it carefully. “This is very detailed and systematic. It isn’t a casual or occasional scan, but a carefully orchestrated series done over time.” He paused, confounded. “This is a search pattern worthy of someone who has done deep space exploration.”

“That’s what I thought. He or she used the best known pattern for scanning large regions of unknown space.”

“However, the pattern is standard operating procedure in Starfleet,” Tuvok reminded her. “And many of the pilots and engineers in the region have worked closely with Starfleet personnel during the war.”

“These were done with scanners that are nearly state-of-the-art, and the scans were done with a classic Starfleet procedure. Who would bother with that?”

“Someone who wants to spy on smugglers, like a former Starfleet officer.” Tuvok continued to play the devil’s advocate. “The transport captain could have devised the pattern himself, or he might have read about it in a report.”

She laughed. “I don’t think so, Tuvok. Why would a transport captain spend the time and effort to devise a search pattern like this? And Starfleet isn’t in the practice of publishing tactical scanning protocols for public consumption.” She poured herself another cup of coffee and sat back to look at him. “No, this informant served in Starfleet, and recently.”

“You must be correct.” Tuvok turned in his seat and gazed out the window at the dozens of vessels docked at the station. “Few if any of these ships are properly equipped with advanced level scanners. They are not designed to spy on the smugglers.”

“Well, they aren’t really spying, if you want to be technical about it.” At Tuvok’s raised brow, she explained, “Is it spying to take note of unusual events or phenomena as your ship flies through space? Is it spying to make routine scans of neighboring space in order to detect an unexpected threat along the trade route, say from pirates? If this person has stumbled upon the information and passed it on, can that be called spying?”

“What else can it be called? Whether it’s deliberate or not matters little to the smugglers. This pilot and his ship are a real threat to the smugglers’ existence.”

“That’s why Starfleet must eliminate the threat as quickly as possible, before the smugglers find out about the informant’s existence.” Janeway fell silent, her eyes troubled. “This person has been careful to cover his or her tracks. Let’s hope he keeps well-hidden.”

“We must do what we can to protect him.”

“That means that we can’t afford to enlist the aid of any of the transport companies during the mission. If we use them, we implicate them. I want the smugglers to think that our information has been provided to us by the Cardassians, not anyone else.”

“Very well.”

She reached down and unzipped her boots, sighing in relief as they dropped to the floor. She was tired, but her day was far from over.

Kira had received a request to set up a meeting between Janeway and a “person of interest.” In an hour or so, Janeway would join Kira in a remote area of DS9 to wait for this person to approach them. Janeway was hoping to receive even more detailed information about the smugglers, perhaps the location of their processing center, but only time would tell. In the meantime, she had a few minutes to relax.

“I suppose that you’ve checked the security arrangements for the meeting?”

“I have resigned myself to accept the level of security that Colonel Kira feels is adequate. I dislike the idea of beaming you to an undisclosed location, and I still don’t understand why this ‘person of interest’ can’t simply come to us.”

“Isn’t it obvious? He, or she, doesn’t want to be identified.” She crossed her legs and absently rubbed the arch of her foot. “Surely you understand that this is a risk I must take, Kira and I together.”

“I am simply informing you of my concerns for your personal safety, Admiral, as is my responsibility.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “Fine. You’re concerns have been noted.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re being careless,” Tuvok apologized, realizing that he’d hit a nerve. “I’m simply concerned that this secret meeting might be dangerous.”

“And I appreciate that concern, Tuvok, but I’m convinced that this individual must have data that is critical to the success of our mission.”

Tuvok harrumphed a reply.

“The Hankeel is tethered to the station, Tuvok,” she concluded, standing up to signal his dismissal, “and you’re just a quick comm link away. I’ll be fine.”

“Very well.” He also stood and bowed slightly. “Please contact me as soon as you return from the rendezvous.”

“I will.” She gestured at the door as she resumed her seat. “But if it’s late and there’s nothing of critical impact, I’ll wait until morning.”

“Understood. Good luck, Admiral.” He headed for the door, pausing beside her chair to place a hand on her shoulder in an extraordinary gesture of unease. “Don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

She looked up at him in surprise, touched by his uncharacteristic show of affection. “I’ll be careful, Tuvok. I promise.”

With a nod of his head, the Vulcan was gone.

Part 2.3 Passive Scan

Jan. 15, 2380–Five minutes later
U.S.S. Hankeel

The Vulcan made his way from Admiral Janeway’s quarters through the ship to his bridge station where he could keep an eye on the ship’s passive sensors and monitor the admiral’s whereabouts. With just a few entries into his control panel, a diagram of the ship appeared with a yellow flashing dot indicating the admiral’s location a few decks below. On an adjacent panel, a diagram of DS9 appeared, ready to display her location when she beamed to the clandestine meeting in an hour’s time. Tuvok was gratified to see his hastily made plans work so well.

“O’Dell to Commander Tuvok.”

“Tuvok here, Captain.”

“What is your location?”

“I am on the bridge.”

“Am I correct to assume that the admiral has returned to the ship?” O’Dell had also been present at Kira’s dinner, but had returned directly to the ship while Tuvok and Janeway had taken their stroll through the station.

“Affirmative.”

“Then, will you please join me in the ready room?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tuvok shut down the panels, circled his station, and headed for the captain’s inner sanctuary, the doors opening on his arrival.

“All necessary security for the meeting is in place?” O’Dell asked as the doors slid shut behind him.

“Yes, Captain. The admiral is convinced that Colonel Kira has taken adequate steps to insure her safety.”

O’Dell frowned and looked aside, and Tuvok realized that she had probably taken note of his access to the passive scanners. “So why are you watching Janeway’s location now?”

“Although Kira has assured us of the admiral’s safety, redundancy is always a good idea when it comes to such matters.”

“But Janeway is on Hankeel.”

“Indeed.”

“She is going to a secure space station, Tuvok, run by our allies. I’m not sure how she would feel about having her location monitored from the bridge.” O’Dell leaned back in her chair. “And you know, of course, that Starfleet protocol prohibits the active use of ship sensors when docked at DS9.”

“I’m aware of Starfleet protocol, Captain, and am not using active sensors. However, there is no prohibition to a passive scan, which is all that I will be using.”

“Did the admiral approve of this?”

Tuvok did not reply, instead keeping his gaze steady over at a spot just over O’Dell’s left shoulder.

“I didn’t think so.” O’Dell stood up and gave him a long look before she went to her replicator and ordered a drink. “Would you like something, Commander?”

“No, thank you.”

She thought about what was transpiring and wondered whether she should report Tuvok’s activities to the admiral. She had been present on DS9 when Janeway and Kira had discussed the plans for the secret meeting and had noticed the frown on Tuvok’s face. But the two of them had served together for over two decades, and so O’Dell felt at a disadvantage. She returned to her desk and nursed her tea. “Janeway was determined to follow through on this meeting. She wouldn’t want anything to interfere with it.”

“The informant will be unaware of the passive scan, Captain.”

“Didn’t Janeway order you to defer the arrangements to Kira and DS9 personnel?”

“The admiral ordered me to refrain from keeping a transporter lock upon her life signs, and I am following that order, ma’am. However, she did not forbid a passive scan of her location.”

“Only because she probably didn’t think that you might do it. What you’re doing would seem to be a breach of the spirit, if not the letter of her orders.” At Tuvok’s silence, O’Dell continued, “I don’t want to second-guess Kira’s efficiency, especially since we’ll need her cooperation as this investigation continues.”

“I understand your concern, Captain, but I am not doubting the security in place. I am simply augmenting it. I assure you that the passive scan will not be considered a breach of protocol.”

“As long as it remains passive.” O’Dell frowned, aware of how limited such scans were, how tempting it would be to increase to active scans if something unexpected transpired. She pulled up the screen that Tuvok had been studying on the bridge. Janeway’s location was clearly visible. “I don’t understand how a passive scan brings up her commbadge this way”

“It doesn’t detect her commbadge, of course.” Tuvok raised a brow at the absurdity of her comment. “I’m scanning for the chemical marker that I introduced into her coffee earlier this evening.”

“Chemical marker?” The captain’s mouth fell open in surprise, and she leaned closer to the screen, scandalized by his statement. “You put a reactive element in Janeway’s coffee?”

“Of course not. I used barium sulfate, a non-reactive substance. It will cause her no physical discomfort, but is readily visible to a passive scan.”

She looked up. “And what if the informant notices it?”

Tuvok narrowed his eyes. “Why would the informant scan for barium sulfate?”

O’Dell laughed, leaned back in her chair, and gave him a measured look, repressing a smile in the process. “I had no idea that Vulcans could be so devious.”

“I am not being devious, Captain. I am simply taking advantage of vague wording of the admiral’s orders.”

“You’re parsing her meaning.”

“I am. If you find this irregular, I suggest that you make a note in your logs.”

“Not to worry. I already have.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a victim of the admiral’s wrath when she returns to the ship.”

“I have worked with Admiral Janeway for over twenty years, and I assure you that she will not be angry about a non-intrusive effort aimed toward keeping her from harm. At most, she will be more scrupulous with the wording of her future orders.”

“As will I!” O’Dell laughed out loud. “Commander, I didn’t realize that you had such a dry sense of humor!”

“I assure you, Captain, that I do not have a sense of humor, at all,” he deadpanned as the captain laughed again. “I have learned after years of serving with Admiral Janeway that it is worthwhile to anticipate complications when she involves herself in a mission.”

“She gets into trouble?”

“So it would seem. Although she plans meticulously, she tends to react quickly during fluid situations without taking the time to anticipate all of the possible adverse outcomes.”

“This is something I should keep in mind, I’m thinking.”

“I would recommend it, Captain.”

“And she prefers to be in on the action.”

“That would be an understatement.”

O’Dell nodded, filing away the information for future reference. “Just be sure to keep that scan passive, Tuvok.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Dismissed.”

O’Dell watched the ready room doors close behind him and shook her head. She understood the loyalty that developed between crews that served long tours together, but it seemed to her that this Voyager crew carried that loyalty to a higher level than most. It was a reasonable reaction to their long exile, but also a bit worrisome. She had a feeling that having Admiral Janeway on board was going to be a challenge.

In the meantime, Tuvok returned to his station and reactivated the sensors, satisfied to see that the admiral’s life sign showed up as clearly as it had earlier. He checked the time and realized that she would be returning to DS9 in less than fifteen minutes. He estimated that the meeting would take no more than thirty minutes, well within the twelve-hour usefulness of the barium sulfate.

He glanced at O’Dell’s ready room door and wondered if she would inform the admiral of his trickery. Janeway would no doubt be unhappy with his extraordinary effort to protect her safety, but, as Chakotay often said, with Janeway, it’s easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission. If something went wrong, she would be grateful for his caution. If nothing went wrong, she would never need to know anything about it.

Soon, the ship would be navigating the Badlands. Tuvok found it ironic that one of his first assignments after Voyager’s journey would bring him back to the location where he had been on an undercover assignment with Chakotay’s Maquis cell nine years earlier. The Maquis had used the Badlands in much the same way as the smugglers used them today—as a base for covert operations and as a refuge from the authorities—and so he was well-suited for the assignment.

He wondered if Janeway knew for sure that Chakotay was the informant. It was possible. Few people on Voyager had been aware of the true nature of Janeway’s relationship with Chakotay. Even Tuvok had been in the dark, and he’d been in a unique position of observing them in stressful situations and unguarded moments. It wasn’t until he and Janeway had shared a mind meld that he’d become aware of the depth of their intimate friendship. His attempts to discuss it with her had always resulted in his immediate dismissal. It was a subject she expertly deflected while they were still in the Delta Quadrant and was a moot point by the time they arrived home.

He had watched with sadness as she and Chakotay gradually grew apart. By the time Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant, the commander had begun his disastrous relationship with Seven of Nine, and Janeway had found herself caught between them. What had transpired had been the worst possible outcome for everyone. Seven was moving to Jupiter Station under the tutelage of the EMH, Chakotay had fled to Trebus, and Janeway was struggling to find happiness in her work. Knowing Janeway as he did, he was sure she believed that Chakotay was a necessary element to her life—the brother she never had. He also thought she expected Chakotay to be the secret visitor she would be meeting on DS9.

He looked across the central expanse at the windows of the massive space station. In just minutes, Janeway would beam to an unknown location, barely concealing her excitement as she waited for the meeting to begin. The Vulcan feared that her heart would be broken if Chakotay was not the person who appeared. He glanced at his computer screen and watched the shadowed form that was Janeway moving through the ship toward the transporter room.

There was nothing left to do but wait to pick up the pieces.

Part 2.3 Passive Scan

Jan. 15, 2380–Five minutes later
U.S.S. Hankeel

The Vulcan made his way from Admiral Janeway’s quarters through the ship to his bridge station where he could keep an eye on the ship’s passive sensors and monitor the admiral’s whereabouts. With just a few entries into his control panel, a diagram of the ship appeared with a yellow flashing dot indicating the admiral’s location a few decks below. On an adjacent panel, a diagram of DS9 appeared, ready to display her location when she beamed to the clandestine meeting in an hour’s time. Tuvok was gratified to see his hastily made plans work so well.

“O’Dell to Commander Tuvok.”

“Tuvok here, Captain.”

“What is your location?”

“I am on the bridge.”

“Am I correct to assume that the admiral has returned to the ship?” O’Dell had also been present at Kira’s dinner, but had returned directly to the ship while Tuvok and Janeway had taken their stroll through the station.

“Affirmative.”

“Then, will you please join me in the ready room?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tuvok shut down the panels, circled his station, and headed for the captain’s inner sanctuary, the doors opening on his arrival.

“All necessary security for the meeting is in place?” O’Dell asked as the doors slid shut behind him.

“Yes, Captain. The admiral is convinced that Colonel Kira has taken adequate steps to insure her safety.”

O’Dell frowned and looked aside, and Tuvok realized that she had probably taken note of his access to the passive scanners. “So why are you watching Janeway’s location now?”

“Although Kira has assured us of the admiral’s safety, redundancy is always a good idea when it comes to such matters.”

“But Janeway is on Hankeel.”

“Indeed.”

“She is going to a secure space station, Tuvok, run by our allies. I’m not sure how she would feel about having her location monitored from the bridge.” O’Dell leaned back in her chair. “And you know, of course, that Starfleet protocol prohibits the active use of ship sensors when docked at DS9.”

“I’m aware of Starfleet protocol, Captain, and am not using active sensors. However, there is no prohibition to a passive scan, which is all that I will be using.”

“Did the admiral approve of this?”

Tuvok did not reply, instead keeping his gaze steady over at a spot just over O’Dell’s left shoulder.

“I didn’t think so.” O’Dell stood up and gave him a long look before she went to her replicator and ordered a drink. “Would you like something, Commander?”

“No, thank you.”

She thought about what was transpiring and wondered whether she should report Tuvok’s activities to the admiral. She had been present on DS9 when Janeway and Kira had discussed the plans for the secret meeting and had noticed the frown on Tuvok’s face. But the two of them had served together for over two decades, and so O’Dell felt at a disadvantage. She returned to her desk and nursed her tea. “Janeway was determined to follow through on this meeting. She wouldn’t want anything to interfere with it.”

“The informant will be unaware of the passive scan, Captain.”

“Didn’t Janeway order you to defer the arrangements to Kira and DS9 personnel?”

“The admiral ordered me to refrain from keeping a transporter lock upon her life signs, and I am following that order, ma’am. However, she did not forbid a passive scan of her location.”

“Only because she probably didn’t think that you might do it. What you’re doing would seem to be a breach of the spirit, if not the letter of her orders.” At Tuvok’s silence, O’Dell continued, “I don’t want to second-guess Kira’s efficiency, especially since we’ll need her cooperation as this investigation continues.”

“I understand your concern, Captain, but I am not doubting the security in place. I am simply augmenting it. I assure you that the passive scan will not be considered a breach of protocol.”

“As long as it remains passive.” O’Dell frowned, aware of how limited such scans were, how tempting it would be to increase to active scans if something unexpected transpired. She pulled up the screen that Tuvok had been studying on the bridge. Janeway’s location was clearly visible. “I don’t understand how a passive scan brings up her commbadge this way”

“It doesn’t detect her commbadge, of course.” Tuvok raised a brow at the absurdity of her comment. “I’m scanning for the chemical marker that I introduced into her coffee earlier this evening.”

“Chemical marker?” The captain’s mouth fell open in surprise, and she leaned closer to the screen, scandalized by his statement. “You put a reactive element in Janeway’s coffee?”

“Of course not. I used barium sulfate, a non-reactive substance. It will cause her no physical discomfort, but is readily visible to a passive scan.”

She looked up. “And what if the informant notices it?”

Tuvok narrowed his eyes. “Why would the informant scan for barium sulfate?”

O’Dell laughed, leaned back in her chair, and gave him a measured look, repressing a smile in the process. “I had no idea that Vulcans could be so devious.”

“I am not being devious, Captain. I am simply taking advantage of vague wording of the admiral’s orders.”

“You’re parsing her meaning.”

“I am. If you find this irregular, I suggest that you make a note in your logs.”

“Not to worry. I already have.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a victim of the admiral’s wrath when she returns to the ship.”

“I have worked with Admiral Janeway for over twenty years, and I assure you that she will not be angry about a non-intrusive effort aimed toward keeping her from harm. At most, she will be more scrupulous with the wording of her future orders.”

“As will I!” O’Dell laughed out loud. “Commander, I didn’t realize that you had such a dry sense of humor!”

“I assure you, Captain, that I do not have a sense of humor, at all,” he deadpanned as the captain laughed again. “I have learned after years of serving with Admiral Janeway that it is worthwhile to anticipate complications when she involves herself in a mission.”

“She gets into trouble?”

“So it would seem. Although she plans meticulously, she tends to react quickly during fluid situations without taking the time to anticipate all of the possible adverse outcomes.”

“This is something I should keep in mind, I’m thinking.”

“I would recommend it, Captain.”

“And she prefers to be in on the action.”

“That would be an understatement.”

O’Dell nodded, filing away the information for future reference. “Just be sure to keep that scan passive, Tuvok.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Dismissed.”

O’Dell watched the ready room doors close behind him and shook her head. She understood the loyalty that developed between crews that served long tours together, but it seemed to her that this Voyager crew carried that loyalty to a higher level than most. It was a reasonable reaction to their long exile, but also a bit worrisome. She had a feeling that having Admiral Janeway on board was going to be a challenge.

In the meantime, Tuvok returned to his station and reactivated the sensors, satisfied to see that the admiral’s life sign showed up as clearly as it had earlier. He checked the time and realized that she would be returning to DS9 in less than fifteen minutes. He estimated that the meeting would take no more than thirty minutes, well within the twelve-hour usefulness of the barium sulfate.

He glanced at O’Dell’s ready room door and wondered if she would inform the admiral of his trickery. Janeway would no doubt be unhappy with his extraordinary effort to protect her safety, but, as Chakotay often said, with Janeway, it’s easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission. If something went wrong, she would be grateful for his caution. If nothing went wrong, she would never need to know anything about it.

Soon, the ship would be navigating the Badlands. Tuvok found it ironic that one of his first assignments after Voyager’s journey would bring him back to the location where he had been on an undercover assignment with Chakotay’s Maquis cell nine years earlier. The Maquis had used the Badlands in much the same way as the smugglers used them today—as a base for covert operations and as a refuge from the authorities—and so he was well-suited for the assignment.

He wondered if Janeway knew for sure that Chakotay was the informant. It was possible. Few people on Voyager had been aware of the true nature of Janeway’s relationship with Chakotay. Even Tuvok had been in the dark, and he’d been in a unique position of observing them in stressful situations and unguarded moments. It wasn’t until he and Janeway had shared a mind meld that he’d become aware of the depth of their intimate friendship. His attempts to discuss it with her had always resulted in his immediate dismissal. It was a subject she expertly deflected while they were still in the Delta Quadrant and was a moot point by the time they arrived home.

He had watched with sadness as she and Chakotay gradually grew apart. By the time Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant, the commander had begun his disastrous relationship with Seven of Nine, and Janeway had found herself caught between them. What had transpired had been the worst possible outcome for everyone. Seven was moving to Jupiter Station under the tutelage of the EMH, Chakotay had fled to Trebus, and Janeway was struggling to find happiness in her work. Knowing Janeway as he did, he was sure she believed that Chakotay was a necessary element to her life—the brother she never had. He also thought she expected Chakotay to be the secret visitor she would be meeting on DS9.

He looked across the central expanse at the windows of the massive space station. In just minutes, Janeway would beam to an unknown location, barely concealing her excitement as she waited for the meeting to begin. The Vulcan feared that her heart would be broken if Chakotay was not the person who appeared. He glanced at his computer screen and watched the shadowed form that was Janeway moving through the ship toward the transporter room.

There was nothing left to do but wait to pick up the pieces.

Part 2.4 Missed Opportunity

Jan. 15, 2380– Moments later
U.S.S. Hankeel

In the hour since Tuvok had left her quarters, Janeway had prepared for her trip back to the station. First, she had taken a shower and replicated a new uniform to get rid of the scent of Cardassian cooking that lingered on her clothing and in her hair. That done, she began to pace as she reviewed all the information on the smugglers that she had seen to date. In her mind, the smuggling ring was the biggest threat the Federation had faced since the Dominion War, bigger even than Shinzon’s bloodthirsty attack on the Enterprise, and she was anxious to begin the mission to end it.

Her thoughts inevitably strayed to Chakotay. She thought back to the last time she’d seen him in person, more than a year earlier. In fact, she had last seen him just a few days before Voyager’s first anniversary party, and barely a week after Seven had moved out of the apartment she’d shared with him. That meeting had proven to be the final blow to their friendship.

Chakotay had come to ask for some kind of help to save his marriage. She had looked up to find him standing in the doorway of her office and could tell from the expression in his eyes that this would be a difficult confrontation.

“Hi!” she said, as if it were normal for him to appear unannounced at her office during a duty day. “I was about to go to lunch. Join me?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

They walked to one of the remote repli-terias in silence. As they replicated their food, she nervously chattered about the details of the upcoming reunion, and he responded with nods or single words of confirmation. She was so upset by his taciturn behavior that she wondered if she’d be able to swallow a bite of food.

Picking up her tray, she led him to a table near a window where they could talk without worrying about being overheard. They had just sat down when an unfamiliar man approached them. He was embarrassed and hesitant as he stared at Chakotay’s tattoo. “You wouldn’t be Commander Chakotay from Voyager, would you?”

When Chakotay confirmed his name, the man handed him a PADD and left without another word. Chakotay stared at the small screen in disbelief and then looked up at Janeway in shock. “She’s filed for divorce. That man was a process server.”

For a moment, Janeway faltered, a spoonful of soup hovering in front of her face. She tried to think of something to say when she knew he was probably devastated. Flustered, she muttered, “Already?”

“Already?” he repeated, his face growing red with fury. “You expected her to file for divorce, didn’t you? You knew this was coming.”

“I had no idea it was coming . . . so soon.”

“But you knew she was going to file for divorce.” He stared at her. “She came running to you as soon as she left me, and you didn’t even try to make her work through our problems. You wanted to see our marriage fail.”

“That’s not true. I tried to get her to talk to you.” Janeway returned the spoon to her soup bowl with a splash. “And anyway, where else would she go but to me? She asked me to help her think through what she wanted to do next, and I listened, the way any friend would.”

“You were her friend, not mine, as always.” He nodded, his anger nearly choking him. “Who else would be her friend but you? Always, Seven first. Always, everyone else second. You never wanted to share her with me. You don’t want Seven and me to reconcile.”

“I admit that I took Seven under my wing on Voyager, but more as a mentor than a friend.” Kathryn struggled to keep her temper under control. “And I’ve never had an agenda when it came to you two. I’ve suggested that she talk through your problems until I’m blue in the face. In fact, I told her that a divorce was nothing to rush into, but she was about as receptive to that advice as she was when I told her to wait a few months before getting married.”

His eyes grew darker. “And since you predicted that this marriage was going to be a disaster, who are you to keep that disaster from happening?” He threw the PADD onto the table, upsetting her coffee cup so that she had to scoot back from the table or be scalded as the hot liquid poured off of her side of the table. He stood up and stormed away, tossing a few last words over his shoulder. “Thanks for all your help.”

“Wait just a minute,” she shouted, trotting to catch up with him. “I admit that I thought from the first that this marriage would be a calamity. I warned you that she was too immature for marriage, that she needed to adjust to all the changes facing us this year before she made a lifelong commitment. I begged you to slow down and take your time.”

He glared down at her. “‘I told you so.’ Is that how you intend to comfort me? I thought we were friends, Kathryn. I thought you would listen to me, too, and maybe even take my side once in awhile. I just found out that my wife is divorcing me, and all you can say is ‘I told you so’?”

She stepped back, nearly stumbling. “I never said that. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, has done more than I have to help the two of you communicate better. I’m sick to death of being a go-between when neither of you seems interested in doing what it takes to make things work.”

“A go-between? When have you ever come to me to facilitate a meeting?”

“I can’t force her to see you!” Tears of frustration burned in her eyes. “And I haven’t come to you with a message from Seven because she doesn’t want to talk to you!”

His eyes softened at her pain as he took a deep breath. “She’s really and truly through?”

“So it would seem. And I’m not sure that your protests are helping.”

“So, of course, since you’ve sided with Seven on this, you think I should just accept the divorce and move on.”

“I think you should do what you believe is right. And no matter what you think, I’ve tried hard not to take sides, Chakotay. I wish I knew what I could do to help you both find happiness.”

He turned away from her, his shoulders drooping. “Let me guess. She came to you wanting a divorce, and you listened to her, counseled her.” He turned, angry again, his eyes widening with realization. “You found Seven a lawyer. Admit it.”

She blinked in surprise and then swallowed. “Jeff Bartlett is an old family friend–.”

“I knew it.” His look of disappointment nearly broke her heart, and then he stepped around her, walking slowly away. “So that’s the way things will be.”

“What are you talking about? That’s the way what things will be?”

He turned to face her. “You can’t be friends to both of us.”

“I want to be.”

“You can’t be that naïve.” He shook his head, seeming to wilt in defeat. “Take care of her, okay? And be good to yourself in the process.”

Janeway rushed to grab his arm. “You make this sound like goodbye.”

“That’s exactly what it is.” He put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll give you and Seven all the space you need. You won’t have to be a go-between any more.”

“You’ll come to the reunion.” Although her words were phrased as an order, they hinted at the near panic she felt. “Please.”

He rubbed his face with his hands. “We’ll see. Right now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to find a lawyer.”

She watched him walk away, rooted to the floor by indecision. Should she should follow him and beg him to forgive her? Should she let him cool off and go to him later to apologize? She became aware of the other diners who were watching her, fascinated by the public spectacle she and Chakotay had just made. Embarrassed and confused, she rushed to the privacy of her office where she could be alone.

She went through the afternoon in a daze, finally deciding that she had been unfair and needed to make things up to him. However, when she tried to contact him after work that evening, she discovered that he’d vacated his apartment and resigned from Starfleet, leaving no forwarding address. The reunion arrived without Chakotay’s attendance, and his absence had left a gaping hole in her life.

Two days later, she received a brief note asking her to let him go without any more fanfare. The divorce was uncontested, and soon, the waters closed behind the wake of his departure.

She realized now that she’d been a fool not to pursue him that day. She should have sent Seven of Nine packing to her relatives in Sweden or, better yet, to the EMH, who loved her more than anyone else ever would. She should have let someone else, anyone else, suggest the name of a lawyer. She should have waited and listened to Chakotay’s side of the story before she took any action at all. Because she hadn’t been careful to remain impartial, her predicament was her own damned fault.

“No excuses,” she muttered into the darkness. When Seven had appeared at her apartment that first day, Kathryn hadn’t stopped to think about Chakotay sitting alone, rejected, in the apartment they’d shared. And when Seven had complained about the legal “complications” of a formal separation, Kathryn had written out the name and number of the only lawyer she knew, the one who handled the Janeway family problems, without thinking about the possibility of a divorce or remembering that Chakotay would need a lawyer, too.

Now, a year later, she could see that she had been cruel to ignore him in favor of Seven—on Voyager and on Earth. Why hadn’t she thought of how he must be feeling in the midst of all this turmoil? Why hadn’t she taken a few minutes to leave him a message of comfort and understanding? Why hadn’t she run after him that day and begged him to forgive her?

She’d sent a dozen messages to the Trebus Transport offices asking him to contact her. When none of those produced a reply, she’d written his sister, Liana, requesting that she forward the messages to him, but had still heard nothing. All she knew about his life came second-hand through other crew members who had gone with him to Trebus. By the time Chakotay missed the second Voyager reunion, Janeway was determined to find a way to force him to talk to her.

When she heard that Starfleet had received a series of reports from an anonymous informer along the Cardassian borderlands, she’d known at once that those reports had to have come from Chakotay. The discovery of a thriving smuggling ring that dealt in the highly addictive drug called maraji crystal was something that Chakotay would feel obligated to report to the authorities, for it threatened the stability of the entire region. She knew that he was capable of doing so in a way that kept himself and his employers out of the limelight. That the smugglers were successful enough to afford to use Restaii fighters as protection was another sign of trouble. Based on technology brought from the Gamma Quadrant during the Dominion War, these fighters had forced Starfleet to revamp and upgrade their own tactical vessels. In a word, they were deadly.

Her eyes strayed to DS9, anticipating her upcoming meeting. Of course, Tuvok was watching her somehow. He knew the truth, even though he had never said a word out loud, knew about the intimacy she and Chakotay had shared on New Earth. He’d learned of it through their mind meld and their shared memory during their efforts to help the drones in Unimatrix Zero. She’d seen the flicker of concern in his eyes when she’d brought up Chakotay’s name that evening, the same look she’d detected dozens of times in the Delta Quadrant. Surely, after all their years together, Tuvok knew that her feelings for Chakotay would not endanger their mission in any way. Surely, after all the countless light years they’d covered, he knew that Kathryn Janeway never let a broken heart keep her from doing her duty.

She checked the time, growing impatient for Kira to call her, hoping that the informant would be Chakotay. If he wasn’t their visitor, then she would have to take matters into her own hands once their mission ended and visit him on Trebus. One way or another, she would make sure to find him and tell him how sorry she was.

For everything.

Part 2.5 Resolve

Jan. 16, 2380–The next morning
U.S.S. Hankeel

“His name was Rette?” Tuvok asked, frowning, as Janeway kept her back to him, replicating a cup of coffee in her quarters. The informant had been delayed in his arrival, and so she’d ended up spending the night on the station, returning just a few moments earlier. “I’m trying to remember if I met anyone by that name while I was with the Maquis.”

“You might have. He said he’d been in the Maquis while you were serving in Chakotay’s cell.” Janeway turned and took a deep draft of coffee, smiling with satisfaction. “I’m sure I’ve never met him.”

“Yet he had the nerve to approach a Starfleet admiral, a complete stranger, with sensitive information that could put his life in danger?”

“I’m not sure it was ‘nerve’ as much as a mission that he accepted.” She turned and strode to her desk, sitting down and leaning back with a sigh. “He’d been well briefed on what to expect from me. He answered every question I asked in admirable fashion and without hesitation.”

“Briefed? You don’t think Rette is the clandestine informant?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You know who I think the informant is.”

“But he didn’t say that Chakotay sent him to see you?”

“He referred to him as ‘the boss.’” She frowned, “He did claim that he’d never heard of the Trebus Transport Company, but that might just mean that Chakotay contacted him directly, outside of his work channels. Kira has been unable to find anyone with his name in their records, which makes me suspect that he doesn’t exist in our records, either.”

She reached forward and activated her computer, slipped in a data chip that Rette had given her, and downloaded the information that was on it into her console. He knew, at once, that she’d while she had been on DS9 she had poured over the data. He said, “So Rette is not the person who actually took the scans of the drug ring.”

She glanced up and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so; for one thing, he never served in Starfleet, and whoever did these scans was once a Starfleet officer. I want you to look at the analysis he gave me of the scans. Look at the evidence, but also the format, the organization of the report, and the way the supplemental material is referenced.” She chose a random PADD, downloaded the report into it, and then held it out toward him. “If the previous information was a clue, this is irrefutable evidence of the informant’s identity.”

While Tuvok read the report, Janeway settled at her desk and began to do some preliminary work on the course the Hankeel’s strategic shuttle, Redmon, would follow in its preliminary search for the smugglers inside the Badlands. She was still working when Tuvok looked up and said, “Chakotay obviously wrote this report.”

“I thought so, too.” She leaned back in her chair and picked up the mug again, her eyes focused somewhere over Tuvok’s left shoulder. “It’s in a Starfleet format, and, as I said last night, the search pattern he used is one we used routinely on Voyager in later years. He didn’t even try to disguise it from us.”

“Indeed.” Tuvok looked at the PADD again, a bit confused. “Why not?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps he heard that you and I were being assigned to work on this mission and wanted us to know the scans were bona fide. Maybe he knew that the Starfleet format would let whoever was in charge of the mission see that his analysis was systematic and authentic.”

“Why didn’t Chakotay deliver the information in person?”

“Good question. He’s probably protecting himself, his employer, and his family from retribution.” Janeway scowled as she set the mug on her desk and then looked up at him, her eyes betraying the disappointment she was otherwise careful to repress. “Or maybe he’s still angry with me.”

“It’s unlike him to carry a grudge for such a long time, especially against you, and especially when doing so might complicate a potentially dangerous mission.”

“I hope you’re right. Let’s just hope that if we need his help out there, he’ll put his feelings aside and assist us.”

“Do you think we’ll need his help?”

“Tuvok, these scans show that these smugglers are hiding their main base of operations somewhere deep in the Badlands. Who knows that area better than the Maquis? Better than Chakotay?” She brought a trembling hand to the bridge of her nose. “I think we’ll eventually have to go into the Badlands and smoke them out.”

“Luckily, I, too, have extensive experience in the area.”

“Luckily.” She shrugged and picked up a second data chip that Rette had left with her, taking a moment to download the information it contained. After a moment, she handed it to Tuvok, as well. “This has more specific data on the smugglers—the ships they use, their usual routes, that sort of thing.”

Tuvok scanned the screen and frowned. “They are brash in their movements, obviously unafraid of being caught.”

“They’ve had no reason to worry—up until now—and they have to know we are here.” She turned to her view screen and pulled up the most recent chart of the Badlands. “Near the end of the Dominion War, there were rumors of a Ketracel white plant being built in some of the worst areas of the Badlands. I’m thinking this might be what we look for first.”

“Rumors?” Tuvok was not pleased. “Searching in that region is a dangerous task. It would be better to have a specific location.”

“It was a tumultuous time, Tuvok. The best we have is a sector, nothing more specific.”

Tuvok shook his head. “Before we can plan our attack, we have to know exactly where they are.”

“That’s why we’re going to find it first.”

“’We’ are going to find it?”

“I don’t want to risk more than a single ship and a small crew for the recon mission. I’ve looked at the reports from the war, and the best I can tell is that this plant is in the most volatile region, which makes sense.”

“The smugglers are well funded. They will have an elaborate sensor system to warn them of approaching ships,” Tuvok stated.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I’m thinking there is a chance that they are letting the Badlands protect them—but either way, we will be careful.”

“’We’ will be careful,” he repeated again.

She fixed him with a glare. “I’ll be leading the mission.”

“Admiral—“

She stopped him with a raised hand. “I want to see what we are up against, and I want to see it first hand. Captain O’Dell will be in charge of the actual mission, once we have the exact location, but I will not be persuaded to stay behind.”

Tuvok crossed his arms over his chest. “I think that you are making a mistake.”

“You are free to think whatever you want as long as you follow orders.”

“You know I will, Admiral.” Tuvok knew that this was only the first round of the argument. O’Dell would make a valiant effort to change her mind, and it might even become loud and vocal, but Janeway would not be dissuaded. She was tired of being behind a desk, stuck in Sector 001, and she would enjoy taking the Hankeel’s version of the Delta Flyer, the Redmon, into the Badlands to do the reconnaissance. “And I will accompany you.”

“Very well. Let’s get started. Tell the captain I’ll forward our first heading to the bridge by the time we leave the Bajoran system. Then, once we’re underway, we’ll meet and go over these wartime reports in detail.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

The door had barely closed behind Tuvok when Janeway’s terminal chimed with an incoming subspace message. Irritated by the interruption, she checked its origin and groaned in frustration. Taking a moment to school her expression, she forwarded a preliminary course to the bridge and then activated the screen.

“Hello, Seven.” She smiled at the young woman, but her efforts did little to lighten Seven’s look of exasperation. In the weeks since Janeway had taken this assignment in deep space, Seven had been forced to cope with life on her own, and at times her emotions had been volatile, especially if she felt that her mentor was neglecting her. Janeway pressed on, “Is it Sunday morning already?”

“It’s Sunday afternoon, Admiral, late Sunday afternoon.” Seven raised a brow for emphasis.

Janeway closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Seven. I’ve been gone for two Sundays so far and have been late contacting you at our agreed-upon both days. Perhaps if I had an internal clock like yours, I’d do a better job of remembering when to call.”

“I could assimilate you,” she replied. “Then we wouldn’t have to rely on subspace to communicate.” Seven’s expression softened as Janeway chuckled at the joke. “I’m sure you have another good reason for your oversight.”

“I spent last night on DS9, so I wasn’t here for the computer’s reminder this morning,” the admiral replied, relieved to see forgiveness in Seven’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I understand. Ship time is quite different from planetary time,” Seven gave her a charitable smile, her face lighting up and adding to her natural beauty. Janeway couldn’t help but admire her, the full, luscious lips and blond hair, the bright blue eyes that now sparkled with good humor. Seven was becoming more and more human as time passed, a fact that Janeway found extremely satisfying. “Perhaps we should rethink our decision to contact each other in person and resort to recorded messages.”

“That might be better, to tell the truth. I’m going to be even busier now that we’re underway.” She settled back in her chair as the ship’s warp engines came online. “So, how are you, Seven?”

“I’m well. I’ve adjusted to your absence, and the work schedule here on Jupiter Station keeps me busy. I’ve also managed to familiarize myself with the idiosyncrasies of my coworkers.”

Janeway smiled and wondered if she should ask how well her coworkers were adjusting to Seven’s idiosyncrasies. “And the work? You’re enjoying that, as well?”

“It’s adequate for now. As you said, my main task is to establish an independent persona while completing satisfying work.”

“And having some fun, Seven. You need to loosen up a little, make some friends.”

A grimace of distaste accompanied a slightly strident tone in her response. “As I recall, you had very few friends and very little ‘fun’ on Voyager. I think that ‘fun’ is over-rated.”

Janeway caught her breath and then held up her empty mug, grateful for an excuse to step away from the screen for a moment. “Hold on while I get a refill.”

She moved slowly through the room, so similar to her quarters on Voyager that she was oblivious to her surroundings. At some point in the last year, Janeway had become aware of a disparity between the person Seven of Nine perceived her to be and the person she really was. Seven idolized the Captain Janeway she’d first known, the Starfleet officer who had been as fixated on work and success as the Borg queen had been on the well-being of her collective. This was an accurate view of her life in the Delta Quadrant, since Janeway had seldom indulged in “fun and friendship,” as Seven had pointed out.

Yet Janeway had worked hard to put that persona behind her since Voyager had returned. She had explained to the younger woman how miserable and frustrated she’d been while serving as Voyager’s captain, how much she’d missed having fun, how much she’d longed for friendship and personal contact. Hungered for it. Craved it.

During those seven years, she’d wished for an afternoon with other women, drinking coffee, talking about men, crocheting or knitting or baking cookies, trying out new clothes or new hairdos, discussing the most recent best seller. She’d dreamed of an evening with the guys, playing pool or throwing darts, trash talking, teasing, flirting shamelessly, telling ribald jokes, laughing until she cried. Oh, and she’d ached to touch bare skin and to feel warm hands exploring her body, to lie down and share her breath and her warmth with a man, to sleep while being held in strong arms, to let down her defenses and relish the feminine weakness and vulnerability that she allowed herself to feel when she opened herself to a man’s advances.

She put her hands above the replicator and rested her forehead on the wall as the familiar Delta Quadrant despair washed over her once again. Loneliness. Solitude. Isolation. Endless duty and suffocating responsibility. Deep inside, Janeway was still struggling to overcome the damage done by her months and years as Voyager’s captain, and yet it was that skewed person that Seven most admired.

“Admiral?” Seven’s disembodied voice came to her from across the room. “Admiral, are you still there?”

“Sorry, I’ll be right there,” she said over her shoulder, and then whispered, “Coffee, black.” Sipping the drink, she returned to her desk, smiling as she sat down in front of the screen. “I apologize, Seven. I was sidetracked for a minute, maybe because I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Seven was concerned. “You’re tired and distracted, and sleeping in an unfamiliar place. I should end this and allow you to rest.”

“No, Seven, I want to talk to you about something important.” She paused to think, absently running her finger around the rim of the coffee mug. “You often refer to my behavior on Voyager as being the model for your actions.”

Seven inclined her head slightly. “I frequently accused you of trying to make me conform to ‘your image,’ but I realize now that I was wrong. You were always fair and patient and allowed for my individuality, and for that I’m grateful.”

“You’re welcome, Seven. But you must remember that I was caught in an abnormal situation that called for atypical behavior. The woman I am now is much closer to my ‘normal’ self than Captain Janeway was.” When she saw Seven frown slightly, she continued, “I like to have fun as much as the next person. In fact, I need to have fun, and enjoy having many friends.”

“I never meant to imply that I wanted to be like you, Admiral.”

“I’m not making myself clear.” She sipped her coffee and then resumed. “Remember Shannon O’Donnell?”

“The relative that you mistakenly believed had been instrumental in the building of the Milleneum Gate.”

“Right. I idolized Shannon–the person I thought she was–only to have that view of her ruined when I learned the truth about her life. I was afraid of how my Aunt Martha would react when I told her that she was wrong about Shannon. Imagine my surprise when Aunt Martha just laughed and brushed it off. She said that Shannon was a family myth that had inspired many Janeway women and would continue to do so. She said that in her experience we usually chose role models that have the strengths we admire and want to make stronger in ourselves.”

“So, it isn’t that we become like our idols, it’s that we chose idols that fit who we are or are becoming.”

“Exactly.”

“And you think that as the captain on Voyager, you had many of the qualities that were strong in my personality.”

“In many ways, I think that’s true. I was isolated from most of the crew and obsessed by my goal, but I must have seemed very human to someone who was a former Borg drone. Many of my more carefree human qualities were repressed because of my position, yet I must have seemed quite independent and autonomous compared the life in the Collective.”

Seven nodded. “I think I understand.”

“I just want you to know that if I continue to change into someone you might not recognize, it’s because I’m continuing to reclaim my former self.”

“I understand.” Seven had often accused Voyager’s crew of overemphasizing “frivolous” activities that were, in her opinion, an inane waste of time. Yet, it had occurred to her recently that such activities were actually a quite normal behavior for human beings. “I suppose I will also continue to change.”

“I think so. You might think about being more lighthearted and playful. I want you to start valuing your free time as much as you do your work.”

“I will try to do so.”

Janeway gave her a wistful smile and shook her head slightly. “There’s nothing wrong with just letting loose of your self control once in awhile, either.”

Before Seven could reply, the ship’s intercom activated. “Admiral to the bridge.”

Janeway sighed. “That’s my cue.”

“Good luck in your mission, Admiral.”

“Thank you, Seven. I’ll try to remember to call you next Sunday morning.”

“Call when you can, and I’ll call you, if you forget.”

“Thanks.” The screen went blank as Janeway finished her coffee and stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her slacks as she stretched her back. It was gratifying to see Seven start to deal with issues on her own, and Janeway decided that she should take advantage of the young woman’s burgeoning self-confidence and resume a more active private life of her own.

“But first,” she thought to herself as she headed for the bridge, “I need to find a man with enough guts to put up with me.”

She hoped she already knew the best man for the job.

In the meantime, she had a mission to plan.

tbc