A/N: This story was written because of a challenge set forth from the implacable MiaCooper. She wrote a fantastic story called "Social Lubricant" to the same set of criteria, though she won "humor" on the coin toss and I got "angst."
This story had the following two sabotages:
1. A diplomacy scene where Janeway and Chakotay are not on the same page.
2. One of them gets hurt.
Bonus: Coffee somehow causes drama.
And the prompt was a screencap from the episode "The Fight" which show's Chakotay's hair pushed forward, aka. "sex hair."
I drew inspiration from the DS9 episode "In the Pale Moonlight." Captains have such difficult decisions to make...
Setting: Takes place late third season, just before Scorpion.
Captain's Personal Log. Stardate 50954.2
Today, I crossed a line that I promised myself I would never cross. I did so knowingly, willfully and without coercion. I went against the advice of my first officer. I went against my own better judgement.
I broke the Prime Directive today.
I'm not sure how to make reparations for what I've done. There is no higher-ranking officer, no admiral to answer to, and no review board to judge my actions. I don't have the option of resigning my commission, even if I wanted to. I don't dare set a precedent for the rest of the crew to follow, or risk losing their faith in me by trying to explain my actions.
I'm not sure I'll ever come to grips with the outcome of this situation. I suppose, over time, I might find a way to make peace with my decision. Perhaps this log – this confession - will be the first step.
It started in a morning staff meeting, just over three weeks ago…
"If there are no other matters to discuss –"
"Actually, Captain," B'Elanna interrupted. "I have something."
I waved her to take her turn. "As you know, we're down to just seven photon torpedoes," B'Elanna began. "In the past months we've been able to get our hands on enough terminium to manufacture twenty-six new casings. Carey just finished wiring the control boards, the internal components are all laid out and we're prepared to syphon antimatter from the warp core. What we're missing are the subspace detonators."
I nodded, knowing this would always be the missing piece of our puzzle to keep ourselves armed.
"What's so special about the detonator?" the Doctor interjected. His next words were preluded with a sly smile. "Excuse my ignorance of ordnance."
"The subspace detonators are composed of highly refined and enriched alitrium alloy," I informed him. "It's very difficult to manufacture, and usually extremely expensive."
"Not to mention unstable if it's handled incorrectly," B'Elanna added.
"We've had our eye out for some time now and haven't met with any luck," I reminded her.
"I know, but I think we may have finally found a place to get it," she said, moving to the computer screen. In front of us was displayed a star chart, and she zoomed in on a sector that was not far from our location. "Using the long-range sensors, we detected a planet this morning with potential commercial activity. Many different types of vessels coming and going, some of them very heavily armed with firepower similar to our torpedoes."
Tuvok rustled subtly to my left. "If they are using antimatter weapons, there is a high probability that they require detonators similar to ours."
"You're thinking we might be able to trade for it there…"
"Or, at the very least, ask where we could trade," Tom added.
The idea was sound, and there were other supplies that were running low. I was inclined to have a look.
"We're new in the area, strangers," Chakotay piped up from my left. "If we go prodding around and asking for materials to make weapons, we're going to draw attention and probably not in the best way."
"Chakotay has a point, Captain," B'Elanna agreed. "Voyager would be one of the largest vessels there. We might appear a threat."
Of course, they were right. "We'll send a shuttle," I conceded, then I pointed at the two of them, "I trust you two have experience in this sort of thing."
A wide smile spread across B'Elanna's face as she nudged toward Chakotay. "Wanna wear our leathers?"
Having a limited supply of torpedoes had been making me nervous since we first landed in the Delta Quadrant nearly three years ago. We'd already encountered our fair share of hostile species out here, it would have been foolish to think Voyager would make it all the way home without more fighting. On top of that, I weighed Chakotay's recent discovery of Riley and her collective and had the itching feeling that we'd eventually run into the Borg. Needless to say, I was feeling much less than secure in our ability to defend ourselves for the long haul.
But I digress.
In a matter of hours, Chakotay and B'Elanna were away and Voyager had diverted to a nearby nebula to recharge our deuterium stores. If we were taking a break from the journey, we might as well be assured to get something out of the delay.
I heard from the away team just over a day later. The planet they approached was known as Delravy and was apparently the last stop before entering a highly disputed area of space—one whose borders were constantly shifting due to a conflict between two rather territorial species.
This knowledge only strengthened my resolve. We had to be able to defend ourselves.
The team was successful in acquiring most of the supplies on their list, finding many of them readily available. Unfortunately, only one lead was obtained for the enriched alitrium alloy for our detonators. Still, a lead was a lead and it appeared to be a good enough gamble that I ordered them to follow it.
Chakotay was nervous— I recognize it now— and with good reason. He wasn't comfortable on that planet. At one point in his life, making deals in such an environment might have been second nature; but that was not the case anymore. His instincts were telling him something important, and I just wasn't listening.
I may never forgive myself for that.
"We've arranged a meeting with someone who might know something about obtaining a small quantity of alitrium," Chakotay said, features obscured slightly by the impinging static of our comm line.
"That's excellent news, Commander," I replied, perhaps a bit too hopeful. "When will you be meeting this individual?"
"Tonight," he replied. "But I have to admit, this doesn't seem like the ideal way to be doing business."
"Well, it's not exactly a normal substance we're trying to acquire," I replied, poking at another padd on my desktop. "Just do your best to find out if they've got what we need and what they want for it."
"That's just the thing. I'm not sure we have anything to offer that will be just compensation for such an apparently illicit substance."
His use of the word jerked my attention back fully. "Illicit?"
"Trade of substances or components that can be used to make weapons is rather frowned upon here. I haven't seen anything in Delravian law that prohibits trading this material explicitly, but several of the people we talked to simply turned their backs to us and walked in the other direction."
At this, my brow furrowed. "The planet is on the border of disputed territory. It stands to reason they wouldn't want to draw themselves into any kind of conflict. But, you say you've looked into the legality." I paused to consider the risks of moving forward versus the need to ensure our future safety.
Quickly, I came to my decision. "If it's not illegal for them, it's not illegal for us. Carry on, Commander. Use your best judgement as always, but know that obtaining even a small quantity of alitrium could mean the difference between life and death for us. We need to replenish our torpedo supplies. I'm tired of rationing them, weighing them against lives."
"Understood. And, I concur. Our resources are much too low for my taste, as well. We'll do our best."
"You always do," I agreed with a smile. "Voyager is still enroute to the nebula. We will be in communications range for another couple of hours, but otherwise we'll see you at the rendezvous coordinates in four days' time."
The nebula had a haunting beauty about it. Shades of deep eggplant and cerulean mixed whimsically across the screen creating an ever-changing kaleidoscope of shapes. Our Bussard collectors were functioning at peak efficiency and by all accounts our tanks would be full in just a few more hours.
I was enjoying the view from my chair on the bridge, catching up on a few reports when I heard a soft ping emanate from the Ops console.
"Captain, we're receiving a priority communication from the Sacajawea," Harry announced at precisely 0900 hours.
The shuttle containing my first officer and chief engineer wasn't due to rendezvous with us for another two days. Hearing from them so far ahead of schedule was a sign that they had either found what we needed, or were running into problems. Given the luck we'd been having, I prepared myself for the latter.
I stood and turned to face Ops. "Put it through."
Nothing stretches a moment quite like waiting for the voice of a crewman in potential danger to filter through the comm. I could feel adrenaline mixing with caffeine – which was, as always, present in copious amounts in my bloodstream since early this morning – and the familiar surge readied me for whatever was to come next.
"Captain," I heard, and a moment later I saw B'Elanna's face. She looked worried, but not harried or panicked. The feed was coming in well and they didn't seem to be having an emergency. Chakotay was sitting next to her, unusually quiet but otherwise seemingly fine.
"Lieutenant," I replied. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes and no, Captain," she answered. "There was an incident during our meeting. Chakotay needs to see the Doctor as soon as possible."
My eyes darted to him and I tried to assess his condition visually. He looked tired and perhaps stiff, but otherwise didn't seem to be experiencing anything life threatening, or even terribly uncomfortable.
"What kind of incident?"
"That's best discussed in private," Chakotay replied quickly. I could hear in his voice that something was indeed very wrong. The way his eyes met mine, a brief and pleading glance before diverting back to the console, was even more concerning.
"Understood. Mr. Paris, lay in a course to intercept, maximum warp." I sat back in my chair, made a few quick calculations on the center computer, and then turned my attention back to the viewscreen. "We should reach you in approximately six hours," I informed them. "Will that be soon enough? Do you need to speak with the Doctor?"
"No, Captain. Six hours will be fine," Chakotay replied. "We will see you then. Sacajawea out."
I felt the hum of the engines change as they responded to the helm's commands. Tom turned in his seat and offered me a look of concern to which I replied with a sigh, and a shrug.
And then we waited.
Those six hours of travelling to meet with Sacajawea felt like an eternity. I checked back in once more before they arrived, remembering this time to inquire as to their success with the alitrium. Much to my disappointment they were not in possession of the material we needed so desperately. I tried to find out more, but whatever had gone wrong, Chakotay clearly didn't want to discuss it over the comm.
When he arrived, however, it was a completely different story.
Chakotay hobbled off of Sacajawea, holding tightly to B'Elanna's arm. He didn't appear ill, so much as just weak or perhaps disoriented.
I kept my distance while he allowed himself to be lead to a chair by one of the shuttle-bay consoles so that the Doctor could perform a quick assessment. Once he was settled, I took B'Elanna aside.
"Report, Lieutenant."
B'Elanna shook her head and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not sure where to begin."
I shot her a glare to convey my impatience.
"Chakotay and I were in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to follow a lead for the alitrium. There was a fight—over what, I'm not sure. Someone clearly had a bone to pick with the individual we were meeting, and thought that we were their enemies too. Chakotay had to defend himself, we both did, but in the process…" she trailed off.
"He was injured," I deduced.
"No. He killed someone." B'Elanna's words halted my breath, and she continued. "It wasn't intentional. Guy came at him from behind with a knife. Chakotay turned and slugged him, and he hit his head off a table pretty hard. It was self-defense, but there were witnesses."
"The authorities arrived pretty quickly after that. We cooperated, but damn it, we should have gotten the hell out of there.
"Cooperating was the right thing to do," I agreed. "It doesn't sound like you had anything to hide."
"We didn't, but fat lot of good the truth did for Chakotay. They split us up, took him into custody. It wasn't until the next day they took me to him…" B'Elanna had begun to pace nervously across the small space in front of me. Shaking with what I knew to be a near uncontrollable rage. Her raised voice drew the slightest glance from the duo across the shuttlebay.
"What, B'Elanna?"
"They had already convicted him! Sentence handed down. Bam. Final," she said with a suppressed shout and a few pointed gestures. "No testimonies, no jury trial. No consideration at all for the fact that it was self-defense. Chakotay didn't even mean to kill that guy!"
As she made one last pass in front of me I stopped her with a firm hand on her arm. "What did they do to him?" I watched her take a measured breath, drawing calm from the pressure I now had on her.
"On Delravy, convicted felons are implanted with a device that simulates a prison term. The sentence is carried out in their sleep."
"In their sleep?"
"Yes. So they don't have to actually maintain a prison system. God forbid it might force them to actually think before they incarcerate someone."
"What happened next?"
"They forced us to leave," she said, incredulous. "Otherwise I'd still be there fighting this."
To my left, I saw the Doctor and Chakotay disappear into a flicker of transport.
"You did the right thing, coming straight back so that the Doctor could help him," I reassured.
"He's not well, Captain," B'Elanna said, finally drawing to the Klingon equivalent of calm. "He's fallen asleep twice since being fitted with the implant and both times…" she trailed off, and I could see she was biting back anger mixed with her own version of regret.
"Let's just say that this method of punishment, it's certainly effective."
