Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom own everything except my ideas.
Authors comment: This is a stand-alone story but does involve characters from both 'Suffer the Children' and 'Chance Encounter'. Set immediately before 'Caretaker' this story gives just a little more background to Chakotay's character.
PS, 'Suffer the Children' has had a lot of hits but no reviews - anyone care to comment on that story? I'd really love to know what you think; love it or hate it, let me hear.
Loyalties
By Jo Taylor
Controlled chaos: that just about summed up the activity within the Maquis base. Whilst one team unloaded the ship just landed another was prepping for its next launch. Fuel was at a premium, but that deficit should hopefully be addressed by this latest foray. Although the target was superficially under Starfleet control, their presence was small and poorly armed. Hand weapons only if their source were correct. So far, Tuvok had proved more than reliable. Whoever his informant was, and they respected his reticence on this matter, they were damn accurate.
"Chakotay!"
He spun around at Porune's call.
"Tuvok's ready for the briefing."
He nodded, held up an acknowledging hand and headed on his way down the corridor.
"How are you doing?" he asked from the doorway. Marcus had been seriously hurt in the last raid. A Cardassian, appearing out of nowhere, managed to get off a shot before he was taken out by Tuvok's own weapon. The damage to Marcus' shoulder had been severe, the loss of blood frightening. He and Tuvok had dragged the unconscious man back through the streets. Each step dogged by fire from the defending troops until they managed to steal a transporter. Something had gone seriously wrong on that raid. For once Tuvok's source had fouled up and the school had been just what it purported to be. He could still see the young boy fleeing down the corridor, getting caught in the Cardassians fire. Nothing he could do; nothing at all.
He shook the memory from his mind, too many other things to worry about.
"Shoulder healing?" He headed for the bed, one hand checking the injured man's temperature. Slick sweat cushioned his palm from the brow that burned too hot. Fevered eyes sought his, recognition not quite registering.
"You're doing fine, Marcus. You'll be up and about, ready to kick Cardy butt by the time I get back."
He doubted his words had penetrated the fog of painkillers that were all they could do for their comrade. Chakotay had seen the face of death too many times to be in any doubt. Marcus would not fly with them again. He did not know the man's faith, did not know what to do to the make the passing easier for him - for either of them. Each time he lost someone, a little bit of him died, a little more guilt added to his burdens.
He slid quietly into the room. Tuvok had already starting his briefing. The map pinned to a couple of packing cases showed a detailed layout of the outpost on Tetrani 4. The system lay on the borders of the DMZ, not quite in Cardassian territory yet not really wanted by the United Federation either. The base was supposedly a neutral observation station, monitoring the border. Independent though Starfleet had a small contingent stationed there from time to time. According to Tuvok, the crew was lax; the job although potentially fraught with tension, had proved less than exciting. Cardassia ignored them; the Federation made token visits. They had grown complacent.
And now they had apparently set up a lab in a previously disused section of the station. Some interesting names had arrived there over six months ago; the very isolation of the site, its apparently unimportant role in the vast security network, a perfect screen for their activities.
The Vulcan's precise tone droned on, pointing out the known defences, going over timings and routes one last time. Chakotay listened with half an ear; he had been briefed earlier in the day, and had the plan memorised. Porune looked over at him, a question in her eyes. He shook his head, and watched the shutters come down. She and Marcus had been getting on well just lately. Not something he encouraged, it put added pressure on everyone if your mind were caught up with someone else's safety. Perhaps he should make her stand down from this mission, though he would have the devil of a job to make her stay behind.
Tired faces listened intently to Tuvok's discourse, and Chakotay speculated how much longer they could continue. Supplies were so low, fuel was running out and each trip seemed to bring more losses. Two men lost last month, Marcus about to die. Again, he wondered if now were a good time to retire from the fight, just for a while, just until they could recoup their losses and take time out to heal. But this war they fought allowed no leeway.
In his reverie, he had missed the briefing's conclusion. Men and women from his team filed past the weary Maquis on their way to the ship. Tuvok bringing up the rear.
"Any more news?"
Cool brown eyes surveyed Chakotay from under thin brows. "I am afraid not. It is to be hoped we are successful. Such a prize could win the war for us in a matter of months."
"I know, Tuvok." His gaze followed the corridor toward the landing bay, not really seeing the scabrous walls, the dirty floors. His mind was already on the flight deck, performing checks, counting down the minutes until take off.
"Marcus isn't going to make it," he said abruptly.
The Vulcan nodded. "He was a good man."
"They are all good men and women," Chakotay hissed vehemently. Pulling his thoughts away from the dying man, he set off purposefully toward the waiting ship.
Looking at it from a distance, he wondered how it ever got off the ground! 'Liberated' from a lonely mining colony, the vessel had certainly seen better days. Scorch marks on its flanks testified to its battle history, patches shone on the undercarriage where repairs had been made. The whole thing seemed held together by spit and good thoughts, helped along by the superbly imaginative skills of his engineer B'Elanna Torres.
Porune was already in the navigator's seat, her face a mask that said more about her control than her emotions. He took his own place at the helm, leaning over slightly as though checking readouts he moved closer to her.
"Stay, Porune." His voice barely heard above the clatter of gear being loaded behind them.
Her eyes glinted dangerously as she turned to face her captain, her voice no louder than his own had been.
"No. You need me on this run."
"Marcus…" He got no further.
"Marcus doesn't need anyone anymore."
He could not deny the truth of her statement. His hand rested briefly on her shoulder before he turned back to his task. She was right; her expertise in getting around security codes would be essential. They had to replace the crystals in both ships if possible and grab the research if not the scientists, from the newly formed labs.
Quiet descended within the ship. His crew had taken their places, made their checks and were waiting for his orders.
"Let's do it."
***
Lieutenant Erland Jannay stood briskly to attention as Admiral Drake strode into the conference room. The gold and black uniform clashed uncomfortably with his bright red hair. He stood out like a flame in the dull burgundy of Drake's office.
"At ease, lieutenant."
He allowed a small fraction of his rigidity to dissolve, but he was too nervous of the coming meeting to permit himself any further relaxation. The Admiral had taken his seat and was now reading through a report, ignoring Jannay. He shifted slightly, uncomfortably aware that he had been involved in one or two things that Starfleet would frown upon; worried that these misdemeanours had come to light. Security was a tough assignment, his method of relaxation not always approved by higher ranks. Drake's attitude did not bode well for the upcoming interview.
It had been during a particularly loud session in the bar that the summons had reached him. Not quite sober, he read the PADD twice before the enormity of its content took hold in his brain. A summons to Headquarters, from Admiral Drake no less – his friends commiserated with him, then returned to their drinks.
"Take a seat, lieutenant."
Jolted from his reverie, Jannay hurried to comply.
"I have been reviewing your record. Grade A pilot, away mission experience, good with other crew members." He paused, reading through the report a second time. "I see from your Academy records that you were in the same group as Chakotay."
"Yes, sir."
"Were the two of you on friendly terms?"
How to answer? Chakotay had indeed been a friend. They had got into and out of trouble together, had chased the same girls, vied with one another in piloting skills and had even gone for the same positions on leaving the Academy. Their rivalry good humoured, founded in a solid friendship. But since then there had been little contact. Chakotay's career record had been immaculate, his skills recognised and promotion not far behind. He had soon passed Jannay's lieutenantship, and last he had heard Chakotay was made up to Lt Commander. Then he had been assigned as a tactical training officer at the Academy, only to leave that position a few weeks later under a cloud of suspicion - his loyalty questioned, and a price on his head. Whilst he, Jannay, had worked his way steadily through the system, enjoying the life he led, getting into trouble now and then but always watching out for his own hide. To admit his admiration and respect for Chakotay could get him into serious trouble.
"We shared classes, sir, and the occasional drink, but no, we weren't friends."
"And how much do you know about his recent defection?"
Did one admit that the rumours surrounding Chakotay's leaving were less than complimentary to Starfleet? That most of his contemporaries secretly sympathised with the ex 'fleeter. He would have to tread warily here. If only he knew where this interview were leading.
"It's common talk that he left the service after the 'incident' on Dorvan. And that he returned to his people in the DMZ."
Of course, he had also heard that his friend was now part of the renegade Maquis, using his inside knowledge to aid them in forays against the Cardassians. Even raiding Starfleet outposts in his quest to supply them with arms and essentials.
"We need someone reliable, someone who knows this renegade. Throughout his career it seems that Chakotay never made friends, possibly his short stay on each vessel accounts for this. We need someone who can give us an insight into his methods. He's a good tactician, excellent pilot, but we need someone who knows his weaknesses – are you that man?"
Jannay could not answer, but the Admiral's icy gaze insisted that he reply.
"I suppose I knew him as well as anyone in our class. We were often paired on training missions."
It hurt to admit it. Though he had not seen his friend for nearly fifteen years, apart from the odd message when something special happened in their respective lives, he still remembered the Native American with deep affection.
"Excellent! Then you are the right man for the job. Tomorrow morning, 0800 hours, you and a hand picked team are going on an away mission. We have reliable information that the Maquis will hit the post on Tetrani 4 at midnight, Earth central Friday, and that Chakotay will be leading the Maquis team. You have plenty of time to reach the outpost and set your trap. I can't afford to send more than one shuttle, our own troubles in this sector mean that you are on your own. But I expect you to bring him back, lieutenant. Preferably alive, but you have permission to use deadly force if necessary." He handed over the orders, signed by Admiral Cantor.
Maybe his dismay had shown briefly for the Admiral's next words drilled into him.
"There is a report here that you should read – just in case you think we are treating him unfairly. See what this traitor is capable of."
Hiding his consternation, Jannay quickly rose, saluted and exited the room. Taking the swiftest route to his quarters, every step pounding in his brain 'Chakotay, Chakotay, Chakotay.'
On reaching his room he immediately engaged the privacy lock, sat down and began to read the PADD Admiral Drake had given him. Page after page of reports reeled past his horrified gaze. A scientific outpost on Erani 2, women and children killed by an explosion whilst the Marquis stole vital equipment. A raid on Tarin's moonbase, all personnel wiped out. A school on Marink 4, falsely thought to be used by the Cardassians to house weapons, wiped out in a raid. The children within suffering serious injuries and loss of life. As the litany continued Jannay felt something within him harden. That the young man he had spent his training with could be capable of this! But Chakotay had always been a bit of a loner, kept his thoughts to himself. The evidence before him left little doubt in his mind that his erstwhile drinking pal had to be stopped, soon, before he could do any more harm. And he would stop him, one way or another.
Jannay's peers would be hard pressed to reconcile the look of hard determination he now wore, with the fun loving man they worked alongside.
***********
The ride up through the planet's atmosphere was bumpy to put it mildly. Chakotay kept both eyes and all his concentration on getting them out safely. B'Elanna cursed as something popped behind the panelling closest to her.
"What the hell was that?" Chakotay yelled from his seat.
B'Elanna's muffled reply was lost as she buried herself in the depths behind the offending panel. A thud, a curse and she slammed it back into place.
He turned to her, relaxing his vigilance for a moment. "Well?"
"Don't worry about it, just don't do any fancy manoeuvring this trip."
His gaze did not falter, dragging further information from her unwilling lips.
"Okay, okay. The stabilisers are a little bit out of alignment: there's nothing I can do up here. Just be careful if we have to make an emergency landing."
"Did you not check the systems before take off?" Tuvok's precise tones visibly irritated the half Klingon.
"Yes, I checked. And no, there didn't seem to be anything wrong. What do you take me for? I may take risks but I am not suicidal!"
'"Enough. Save your energy the pair of you. If Starfleet or the Cardassians get wind of this you'll have more to think about than whether all the nuts and bolts are screwed down."
Spirits preserve me, but what else can go wrong. If anyone is listening, watch over us. Chakotay sent his silent prayer skywards as the ship finally cleared the turbulence and entered the vastness of space.
***
Jannay and his team, ten experienced security from Drake's own staff, had landed on Tetrani 4 eight hours before the Maquis were due to arrive.
Now, with only a couple of hours to go, Jannay scouted the area for the umpteenth time, checking each of his men were alert, ready for whatever may occur.
Finding the scientists hard at work had been a shock; their presence had not been part of his brief and as Drake had ordered a communication silence, there was no way of checking what he was supposed to do with them. Dr. Marlow had been curt to the point of rudeness when Jannay had first tried to enter the lab. Security codes that normally opened any access were ineffective on these doors. He had resorted to hammering with his fist to raise any reply. His brief glimpse into the room had left him no wiser as to the experiments being run within. But the attitude told him that this project, whatever it may be, was more important than any personnel on the base believed. The scientists had waved away his concern for their safety, believing themselves invulnerable behind their closed doors.
His brow furrowed again as he reviewed the situation. Admiral Drake's brief expressed the belief the Maquis raid would be strictly for fuel, possibly other supplies like food or components for ships, even weapons. He did not like the idea that currently crowded his mind, that somehow they had got wind of whatever this work involved, and that is what they wanted. If only he knew what he was defending!
Rangar now occupied the ops control, one of Drake's men. Jannay had been horrified at the lax security and attention to detail that currently held sway on this, admittedly, civilian outpost. Although they had been advised of his arrival, only a token gesture of support had been apparent. And when they were informed of the Maquis raid, the general consensus was to shrug their shoulders, and leave everything to his team. 'Desk jockeys' he thought derisively.
With scanners at maximum, they soon detected the little ship's arrival in orbit then cut the scan; they did not want their prey to realise they were walking into a trap. Jannay's gut twisted uncomfortably as he reviewed what was about to take place. Could he pull the trigger on Chakotay?
***
Chakotay and his small group crept quietly along the perimeter wall. Somewhere close there should be a small outlet from the air vents servicing the tunnels deep under the base. According to Tuvok's source, the lower areas were no longer in use, except for storage purposes. His hand slid carefully over the smooth metal as they inched forward in the pitch blackness. Then, his fingers caught on a grill, its mesh digging into his fingers reassuringly. It took only moments for them to remove the cover then slip into the tunnels depths before pulling the cover back into place behind them.
Porune had taken lead now; the exit into the base would certainly be secured with a force field of some description. Her knowledge and experience of breaking codes would see them in quickly and, hopefully, without detection. Chakotay was not to be disappointed. Ten minutes after entering the small tunnel they were under the base and spreading out to complete their various tasks. Tuvok and Porune would head to the lab, get what they could and head straight back to the ship. Chakotay was heading for the engineering section. Hopefully, tucked away somewhere would be spare dilithium crystals that they could make use of. The others were scouting for fuel, food whatever they could salvage. His orders to stun not kill had quirked a few mouths but all knew better than to argue. Besides, these were civilians not military.
The building was set out like a rabbit warren; corridors disappeared into the distance with no hint of where they led. And everywhere was quiet, too damn quiet. Chakotay felt a cold tingle creep up his spine as he penetrated further into the maze. There should be someone around, somewhere. No sound reached him from behind the closed doors he passed so softly, no hum of machinery, no music playing, no voices raised in conversation – just deadly silence. Were the others encountering this same phenomenon? It reminded him of an ancient Earth legend, the Marie Celeste; a ship found adrift at sea, all crew gone yet half eaten meals still sat on the table. He quashed the shiver that threatened to engulf him, instead increasing speed toward his goal, his hands tightening their grip on the phaser held ready for use in his hand.
The sudden squall of alarms rooted him to the spot, one hand still hovering near the access panel. From all sides, he could hear the sudden rush of feet, voices raised in chaotic discord. Flattening himself against the wall, he headed back down the corridor. Doors flew open around him, disgorging a rag tag bunch of civilians. All headed away from him down a side corridor, for the moment he went un-noticed. Then, behind him, the door to engineering swished open and two Starfleet security spilled into the corridor. His reactions were swift and accurate, before they could get off a shot he had phasered them both. Running swiftly now, he ran pell mell toward the nearest corridor, diving into it as phaser fire singed his shirt from behind. Cursing he dodged down another and then another, the map in his head standing him in good stead as he headed for the storage areas beneath the base. Ahead, two more Starfleet officers suddenly appeared in his way. He was on top of them before he could stop. In such close quarters his training took over, felling the first man with a crude yet effective punch to the throat, he span quickly knocking the phaser from the other's hand with a swift kick. The resultant fight owed more to his instinct for survival than science as the two men punched, gouged and did as much damage as possible to one another. Finally, Chakotay got his hands around the others windpipe and squeezed until he fell unconscious at his feet.
Recovering both men's weapons, he quickly jogged down to the access port, the object of his flight. From here, it was five levels down to the tunnels and the route back to the flyer. With luck, his team were already off the base and ready to leave. Whatever the outcome, the ship would leave in twenty minutes time, with or without their leader. It didn't pay to be sentimental when others lives were at stake.
With only a few feet to go an unease settled in his stomach. Someone waited below him, hidden in the dim passage beneath his feet. Although he could not see or hear them, he knew they were there. Every instinct warned caution. Beside him, just below his present position was a sub duct, an entry to the air filtering maintenance systems. He wriggled himself into the tiny space and waited, knowing that his approach had been heard and that his enemy would come looking for him. All the time the clock counted down in his mind.
A fiery red mop of hair preceded his opponent as he cautiously put a foot on the lowest rung. When the officer was within a hairs breadth of Chakotay's position his fist shot down onto the unprotected face, smack between the eyes. The man crumpled, dazed his feet slipping from the rungs as he plunged to the floor below.
Chakotay watched and listened for a moment or two, no outcry followed the man's descent. No one rushed to his aide. The fool had been alone!
When he reached the man's side the recognition he had refused to accept before hit home. The man groaning at his feet as consciousness returned was all too familiar, though they had not seen each other for more years than he cared to remember. Dragging him to his feet, Chakotay propped him against the wall and wondered what the hell to do with him.
Chakotay's eyes never wavered; his gun remained steadfastly trained on Jannay's chest. A small squeeze of the trigger and his academy buddy would be one more casualty of this damned non-war they were fighting.
The gold and black uniform had been a surprise, last time they had been in touch Jannay was still piloting for the Washington. It must be all of ten years ago that they had last communicated, a lot can happen to a man in ten years as he could well attest.
"You know I can't let you go, Chakotay."
"How do you propose to take me, Jannay? I'm the one with the gun, remember." His voice was cold, the normally warm brown eyes held more than their fair share of anger.
"Starfleet…"
The distaste that flitted across his face must have registered on Jannay, he watched the man stiffen. His friend was 'fleet to the core, bigoted and closed minded. Not the person who had worried over flight simulations, not the person who had covered for him after a drunken bout. But then, he had changed too. He had never found it easy to make connections with others. He was a good listener a good leader but the more intimate relationships seemed to pass him by. This man had been his only friend at the Academy. The only person with whom he could share his fears for they were mirrored by his own.
Footsteps pounded down the corridor behind him. He tensed, phaser rifle ready. Porune ran round the corner, gun in hand.
"Cardassians. At least thirty, maybe more. Couldn't get to the inner corridor but Tuvok has the people from the science lab." She bent over, gasping for breath.
"Shit!" His expletive pretty much summed up his feelings at that moment. "Is the way clear back to the shuttle?"
Her negative reply only increased his anger. A quick glance at his chronometer; they had less that ten minutes to reach the rendezvous point or Tuvok would leave without them. You do not endanger the mission or the crew for one person.
"Move." Decision made. The gun indicating the direction he wished Jannay to take. "Don't even think about trying to get by me, Jannay. You don't want to try my patience, and you do not want to try your luck with the Cardassians."
Whether through luck or honed Maquis skills, the trio found their way to the nearest duct empty of Cardassians and Starfleet alike, though the sounds of conflict echoed above them. The civilians stood no chance against the war like invaders.
Chakotay took the lead as they entered the narrow tunnel, knowing that Porune would deal with Jannay should the man try any stupid moves. Better to sandwich him between them than to entrust their safety by letting him exit first. Two thirds of the way up and voices reached them from below. Phaser fire missed Porune's feet by millimetres. Her curses spurred them all to increase their speed. Even Jannay had no intention of being caught by the enemy.
As they sprinted to the rendezvous point, Chakotay's rifle trained on his back, Jannay could only wait his chance to escape. He did not understand what had occurred on the base. That the Maquis and the Cardassians were both intent on capturing the scientists was a given, what those same scientists were involved in now focused large in his thinking. And who would get the blame for the slaughter of civilians that was surely occurring behind them? The set, grim faces of his captors gave little hint to their thoughts.
For the first time he questioned the reports Admiral Drake had been so insistent he read.
Porune stumbled; her foot caught on the uneven ground. As she went down, Chakotay stooped to grab her arm, half dragging her back to her feet. In the slight confusion, his prisoner made a sideways feint then headed back toward the base. With a curse, Chakotay fired, bringing him down hard.
"Leave him," Porune shouted, as she opened a link to the ship.
"No way. I want to know who set us up, what the hell Starfleet were doing there, and why this man was put in charge. Someone is screwing with us; I want to know who. This was no happy coincidence, Porune."
She nodded slowly. "You think we have a traitor in the team." Knowing Chakotay's instincts were usually to be trusted, she did not query his belief.
B'Elanna was furious. With the Cardassians for knowing about their raid, with Starfleet for also being there, and with Chakotay for bringing one of them on board. Fiery at the best of times, Chakotay had to resort to extreme measures to quieten the angry woman. His fingers tightened painfully into her bicep until she dragged her attention to the pain and away from her diatribe.
"Quiet now. I need you on the engines, you can bet the Cardys won't let us get away that easily, nor 'fleet, should they have the manpower." His gaze rested questionly on his prisoner's face. The man just stared, saying nothing.
Chakotay changed places with Dent who had been left in charge of the ship, no small task avoiding surveillance from below and above. Checking his scanners quickly, he listened to reports coming in from the other stations. Things were not looking good. So far, the Starfleet contingent seemed too heavily engaged with the conflict below to take notice of their flight. The Cardassians were another matter. As soon as the little ship headed out into space, sensors flashed in every department. Without even time to issue a warning, the first blast hit, reducing their shields and knocking them almost into a spin; warp drive went off line before they had even set a course.
"I said, no fancy flying." B'Elanna was tucked in behind the panelling, having given up on the control board in front of her station.
Another shot, this time on the port side.
"Shields down to fifty percent. B'Elanna, I need that warp drive back on."
"Enemy ship closing. Weapons targeted." Tuvok's calm voice sounded ominously in the narrow confines of the flyer's small bridge.
"Return fire. Hit them with everything we have."
"We have nothing to hit them with, Captain," came the Vulcan's stoic reply. "Weapons went down with that last hit."
Chakotay swerved the vessel to port as another burst of fire came hurtling their way, missing them by a fraction. T'Mel's intensive training courses had stuck.
"Now, try it now!" Torres' voice rang across the room. Punching in the co-ordinates, Chakotay initiated warp drive. Beneath him the little ship heaved as yet another burst of energy hit their shielding, but B'Elanna's efforts had again saved them. They streaked out of the area at warp 6, the best the old bucket could manage without shaking apart.
"Remind me I owe you a drink," grinned Chakotay at his engineer.
"Make that a chocolate fudge sundae and I'll let you off all the drinks you've promised me over the years," she replied, a self-satisfied smile lighting her face.
Settling the ship gently down, Chakotay took a moment to thank the Spirits for their safe arrival. Coming in through the stratosphere had been bumpy, the ship groaning its protest as pressure built to almost unbearable levels against its hull. But, once again, they had survived - just.
Although his mission had failed others on the team had been luckier. Tuvok had managed to get into the lab, with Porune's help, and although they had not managed to salvage any equipment they had downloaded some data before all hell had broken loose. The scientists, given a choice between the Maquis and the Cardassians had thrown in their lot with his grim warriors.
Seska waited for them, just inside the tunnels. She was to escort their reluctant passengers on to the Maquis headquarters where the research could be thoroughly analysed and hopefully adapted to their own ships. To be able to cloak their small fleet, and fire through that cloak would end this war in a matter of weeks.
His gut tensed as he saw the solemn expression Seska wore. Though they had once been intimate, he now shared only a tense friendship with the Bajoran freedom fighter. He knew her well enough though to worry.
"What's up?"
"We heard about the raid. Picked up a piece of information from the 'fleet net that you might find interesting. You have a Lt. Jannay with you?" Chakotay nodded tersely.
"Well, seems that same Lieutenant was the blue-eyed boy of a certain Admiral Drake. Right now, he has everyone looking for him. According to the gossip, he drafted this 'fleeter in because he knew you back in the Academy, was using him to get to you. Now, he is claiming that his disappearance and the deaths of his team make him a traitor!"
Chakotay ruminated on the idea for a moment. It could be that this rumour had been 'allowed' to find its way to them. That Jannay had been sent to infiltrate the Maquis via his past association with himself. Yet, that didn't sit right with the way Jannay had reacted. Given the chance, he was sure Jannay had had every intention of catching the Maquis, not joining up!
He was too damn tired to think straight. Paranoia stared him in the face, the first chink in his armour. He needed sleep, food and time to reflect. Jannay or one of his own; who had set them up?
For the moment, he ignored her remarks, asking instead, "Marcus?"
"Holding on, barely."
Porune, who had been standing quietly behind him, suddenly headed past the pair, almost running down the tunnel. Tired eyes followed her swift passage as he fought down the wave of compassion threatening his weary mind. The ache behind his eyes surged and retracted leaving him dizzy for a brief second.
"Go and rest, Chakotay. I'll see someone calls you if anything happens." Seska's hand was firm, insistent on his arm. He raised a half-hearted smile in response.
"Later. There is too much to do. When do you leave?"
"Soon as my 'passengers' are onboard the Viking." Her eyes met his for a long moment. "Don't take any chances, Chakotay. Something round here isn't right. I don't know what but…" She glanced round and, seeing they were alone, kissed him quickly on the cheek before hurrying off to her own mission.
As he walked toward the makeshift holding cell, he turned over her words. So, he wasn't the only one with suspicions.
Passing Marcus' room he could not help but look. Porune sat at his bedside, one of his hands clasped tightly in her own. He had never seen her affected by anything. Her ice-cold heart un-melted by the most gruesome of scenes. His heart went out to her, to find someone for whom she could feel something only to have him taken away.
Leaving her to her solitary vigil, he continued to his meeting with Jannay still uncertain of whom to trust.
Chakotay observed the security officer from his vantage-point at the door. The years had been good to him, he looked seasoned yet youthful. It had been a long time since he had looked that young. Life with the Maquis was tough; provisions were often short, as was their life expectancy. He had grown hard over the past years, very little could touch him now. Did he regret that? Strange, he hadn't worried about his heart in years; he existed from one day to the next.
"Why, Chakotay?"
He hadn't expected the question - not from this man. He knew how connected to his roots Chakotay had become during their time at the Academy. Knew that he had worked hard to heal the rift with his Father. How had he expected him to react!
He answered with a question of his own.
"Why should I have stayed? Starfleet held no solution to my problem. They cared less for those under their protection than the race who were carrying out wholesale slaughter of innocent civilians!"
He calmed his breathing, pulling his emotions back inside, tight and hurting.
"Diplomatic channels…"
Jannay got no further. His erstwhile friend's face hardened, eyes turning icy.
"Diplomacy killed my father. Diplomacy killed my friends. Husbands, wives even the children. All wiped out because Starfleet insisted on 'talking' instead of acting. We were supposed to be the good guys, remember?"
Locking his chocolate brown eyes with Jannay's sky blue he took a step closer.
"Could you stand by whilst your family were being slaughtered? Would you let that tyranny, that genocide continue if there were any way in which you could help? Where would your loyalties lay?" Chakotay strode around the small room, pacing out his frustration.
Jannay could not find the words to answer him. His assignments had kept him well away from the 'incidents' currently occurring along the DMZ. He had missed the occupation of Bajor by months; his tour on the Wellington had been out to one of the farthest sectors of known space.
"There are ways to do things, Chakotay. Killing civilians in order to provision your own is not the way to do it!" Admiral Drake's reports still echoed in his mind.
"What are you talking about?" Chakotay was genuinely bemused. "Yes, occasionally a civilian has been hurt, but not by intention."
"So you can justify what happened on Erani 2? The moonbase at Tarin? There were solid reasons why those innocents had to die!" Jannay's anger was growing by the minute, careless of his precarious situation he stood and took a stand almost nose to nose with Chakotay.
"Erani 2? What would the Maquis want with Erani 2? When we have to raid, we go for easy targets if we can. We need weapons, food and fuel. What the hell could Erani offer us!"
"Your team, your unit, Chakotay, blew up the science base there. Twenty-six people died thanks to you. And what did you get? Nothing, because they had nothing!"
The flame haired officer stood his ground as Chakotay drew himself up ready to dispute the charge, but Jannay continued.
"And the moonbase at Tarin? Not even a weapon to steal. Why did they have to die, Chakotay? Why?"
Comprehension dawned slowly in his tired brain. He too had heard of the raid on Tarin's moonbase, and that it had been attributed to the Maquis. The rumour had been false and they had dismissed it as mere propaganda. It seemed to have worked in his old friend's case.
"Sit down and hear me out."
Jannay seemed ready to argue, but a decisive look got Chakotay's message across and he reluctantly resumed his seat.
"Ever since I joined the Maquis rumours have dogged us. We have been credited with more massacres, bombings and raids than it would be possible to achieve if we had ten times the people and ships. Each time a ship vanishes, we get the blame. For every raid that happens, we are always the suspects. Our cause is to free those under oppression, to help where Starfleet fears to tread. And they hate us for it. Hate us for showing them what they should be doing, not sitting back on their fat backsides, while true innocents have their homes and lives taken away from them. Yes, the Maquis do raid; yes, people have died, but we are not mass murderers, Jannay. I still believe the ideals Starfleet hold could work, if and only if they stick to them. Tell me, what is the ideology behind permitting wholesale destruction?"
"You argue like a Vulcan," snorted Jannay.
"I had a good teacher."
His attention diverted for a moment, Jannay queried, "T'Mel?"
"She taught me a lot, not just how to fly a shuttle or wage a war." Chakotay's eyes had lost their focus as he thought back to the woman who had trained them both so many years ago. More recent memories crashed in on him, dispelling his reverie.
"T'Mel is dead, did you know?" His voice was harsh, unforgiving. "Do you remember the endless hours the other students spent debating on her heritage? Let me tell you a secret, her father was my father's 'brother friend'. Do you know what that means? No? She was family, not by blood but by association. When she married she and her husband settled on Dorvan. It had been her home, was still her home."
His eyes were closed now as the beautiful Vulcan came to life in his memories. Long black hair, sharp eyes that could root a young cadet to the spot. But she had been more than that to him, an inspiration and an infatuation.
"She died defending her right to live where she wanted to live. My father, T'Mel, her husband everyone all dead. I have seen too much death, Jannay."
"Chakotay." A soft voice called him from outside the room.
"Not now!" It took all his self-control to stop his anger and despair from entering his voice.
"It's Marcus."
Finger and thumb pinched hard on the bridge of his nose as the headache he had been fighting suddenly surged. "Okay. I'm coming."
About to exit he turned and confronted Jannay one last time. "We'll talk later."
***
He could sense the aura of imminent death, even as he hastened to Marcus' room. The air felt tinged with defeat. Marcus lay still, his face grey and drawn, his breathing barely noticeable now. Just the shallowest rise and fall of his chest acknowledged he yet lived.
Porune had given up her post at his side, standing now, her back pressed tight against the wall, her eyes never wavering from his ashen face. His quick glance took in her rigid posture, the hands tightened into fists pushed deep into her pockets. Her struggle was silent and heartbreaking to watch. She did not move, allowing no flicker of recognition at his presence. Her focus all on the man expiring before them.
Chakotay felt the thready pulse lurch under his fingers as Marcus' breathing suddenly stopped. Laying a hand over the man's heart, he felt for any sign of life knowing none would be found. The dead eyes seemed to follow him as he rose from the bedside. Porune still stood by the wall, as though rooted to the spot. His hand rested briefly on her arm, a gesture of acknowledgement, all that he could summon from the barren depths of his heart.
Passing B'Elanna on his way out, he asked her to see what she could do for the numb Bajoran. Right now, he was too exhausted to even offer her comfort.
Finding two of his team unoccupied, he asked them to deal with the body, find a cool storage area well out of the way. They would have a short service the next day.
The spartan confines of his room, carved out of the solid rock seemed like a haven after the last twenty-four hours. He hadn't slept in over forty, his head felt full of cotton wool, dull and uncooperative. Expecting to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, suspicions and half-dreamt allusions kept him from the deep sleep he needed. When he awoke, some five hours later he felt stale and un-refreshed, heavy in limb and thought.
***
Jannay too, had spent the night lost in thought. Unless Chakotay's skill in lying had improved over the past years, he found himself wondering more and more on the reports he had read on the raids that had supposedly been carried out by this Maquis unit. The Native American had been candid, open even about the raids his group had performed. Chakotay's commitment, his loyalty to this cause reverberated uneasily in him. Discussions they had held so many years ago returned to replay in his memory. Back then they had been full of idealism, sure that they could single-handedly put the Universe to rights. Even after his first tour of duty, he had been gung-ho about the whole Starfleet concept. Sure, over the years he had seen things, been involved in incidents that had dented his beliefs somewhat. And, deep down, he secretly sympathised with the aims of the Maquis. What he could not condone were the methods they used. Until now, he had been convinced that they were a bunch of mindless mercenaries. Re-acquaintance with Chakotay had shaken him more than he cared to admit. The grim, angry man who had held him at phaser point bore little resemblance to the young, insecure juvenile that had shared his hopes and fears so long ago. His hand moved unconsciously to his shoulder, still throbbing painfully from the impact of Chakotay's tackle on the planet. He had seen the danger in the man's eyes and wondered when his old friend had become so dead inside.
The tattoo fascinated him. Chakotay had always kept his beliefs tucked away, hidden from the students at the Academy. Now, it seemed he was willing to advertise his needs for the entire world to see. Yes, he was certainly a changed man.
**
Dusty clouds billowed their cargo of grit and earth around his form. Particles crept into mouth and eyes unprotected from their onslaught. He remained oblivious. In the distance, the sun was about to rise, something he had not missed on this planet since their arrival some eight months previous. Although he had been content onboard any starship he missed the green and blue of his home planet, sunrise still held a fascination for him. Day following night, the reaffirmation of life itself; though today they would say goodbye to yet another member of their tightly knit group.
He wanted this war over, he wanted to go home again, he wanted… The sun appeared over the horizon, warming the earth, easing his heart.
By eight Chakotay and his band were anxiously waiting the return of Seska in their one and only ship. B'Elanna had tried her hardest to get the Arrow operational again, but this last run in had done too much damage. For once her genius was defeated by lack of materials. At that moment, they were to all intents and purposes, stranded.
Lacking any other activity Chakotay returned to Jannay's 'accommodations' to continue their aborted conversation from the previous evening.
Jannay seemed deep in contemplation as he softy entered the room. Brows twitched together, as his thoughts seemed to take a downward turn. He looked up, startled at Chakotay's quiet approach.
"You're up early! Never could get you out of bed at the Academy."
Chakotay's gloomy mood lightened slightly, a small twist of the lips answered his prisoner's exclamation. Then he returned his thoughts to the incident so fresh in his mind.
"Why were you in charge of security yesterday? Who set us up?"
Jannay's eyes grew wary as he kept his own council.
"Someone tipped off Starfleet and the Cardassians, Jannay. I need to know who. If I have a traitor among my team it could spell disaster for us all."
"Well, that's some incentive to 'come clean'. The Maquis should be put out of action! You don't see how much damage you are doing – the Treaty…"
"And you are too damn blinkered to see what is happening out here! Dorvan was not the only settlement to be wiped out, Jannay! What is happening on Bajor is no imagined incident. People are dying, their homes are being destroyed while Starfleet sits back and treats with these bastards."
Chakotay's face darkened as his temper rose. Trying to get through to this man was impossible. Indoctrinated into the Starfleet 'do nothing' code of conduct he wondered how he had become so different. At the Academy, they had been united in their belief that Starfleet could put the Universe to rights. The ideas were good; their execution was not. Chakotay had never been a political animal, right and wrong were pretty clear for him – grey was a colour he abhorred.
Abruptly Chakotay turned away from his old friend. "Come with me, there are things maybe you should see before you condemn us out of hand."
Jannay's look was sceptical. All night he had been fighting the idea that maybe, just maybe the Maquis had right on their side. Not all the time but…
"Aren't you afraid I might escape?"
"No."
Chakotay made no further comment as he led the way through corridors stacked with provisions liberated from various outposts. Knowing that Jannay would be taking mental note of the route and everything he saw; compiling his report even as he strode beside him.
Hostile looks followed them as they walked toward the battered ship, though no one questioned their leader. A glance from Chakotay quelled the most mutinous of his crew. Jannay was impressed. He had always known this strange, solitary man would make a good leader, though this blind allegiance was un-looked for.
Porune, B'Elanna and two others were busy stripping the wreck of useable components. Porune, her almost black eyes shuttered avoided Chakotay's gaze. The half Klingon opened her mouth as if to launch into a tirade but a raised hand stopped her before she could get one word out.
"Is the computer still up and running?"
Her mouth tightened, lips pressed almost to a line as she bit back a caustic remark eventually replying that some functions were still running.
Ignoring them, Chakotay escorted Jannay to a viewing screen, punched in his code and called up footage of the carnage on Dorvan. He watched the security man's face grow pale at the wholesale destruction, the wanton lack of humanity that etched into his brain. Not giving Jannay time to absorb that image, he called up other, just as horrific images from Bajor and beyond; a litany of horrors. These same images haunted his dreams, kept him going when he thought he could go on no more. They all had their nightmares, reasons for what they did. No one ever asked why you joined, for it was blatant in the eyes of each recruit.
"I'd read about these but…" Jannay's voice trailed off in sick disbelief.
"One last image for you." Chakotay's harsh tone should have warned him. He had returned the viewer to Dorvan; the recorder had entered a village square lighting on bodies strewn in macabre poses like a set from the devil's playground. Suddenly the image grew larger as it zoomed in on one body. He shut his eyes against the horrifying sight. Chakotay's fingers gripped tightly into his shoulders, his voiced hissed insistently in his ear.
"What's the matter, Jannay, no stomach for the truth? Open your eyes, see just what we are fighting against."
The room had hushed to a deathly silence as the other Maquis watched the interplay between them. Bleak determined faces watched stonily as he replayed the scene again and again. Finally, Jannay opened his eyes and let the full horror wash over him. T'Mel lay sprawled in a pool of her own blood; so much blood! Her slim body eviscerated. The once beautiful face was set in a mask of pure terror; sightless eyes stared accusingly into his.
Chakotay was in a hell of his own. Jannay forgotten for that moment as he tried to remember her alive, full of vitality. That chance encounter so many years ago had set him on the road to success in Starfleet, and eventually he supposed, to the place he now held. He so wanted to remember her smile, her wisdom the tone of her voice.
All he could see was her corpse.
It had to end.
Jannay blundered past him, out into the air where he promptly threw up.
B'Elanna watched him dispassionately. "He'll be okay," she commented. "How about you?" Her brusque inquiry held a note of genuine concern, one he had long recognised and avoided.
"Wipe those images when you're done here."
He joined Jannay outside. "My God, Chakotay. Did I have to see that?" he cried out.
"You need to understand what we are, and why. I think you understand the 'why' part now."
Jannay was still pale and shaken but was rapidly mustering his reserves. "Yes, I think I do," he said quietly.
Several hours later Chakotay and Jannay were still talking. Maquis and Starfleet argued over the rights and wrongs of each other's principals. It was an argument neither of them could win. Settling for an uneasy truce, Jannay reluctantly agreeing that Starfleet's stance may be wrong and that the decimation of the DMZ should not be allowed to continue.
Finally Jannay, realising that his safety lay in his old friend's hands told him all that had occurred before the raid.
"…We went in there blind, Chakotay. Those scientists were a complication we hadn't been told about. Admiral Drake's brief was your capture or neutralisation. None of us expected the Cardassians to be there. They shouldn't have been there damn it!" His obvious frustration kept him pacing the floor, hands expressive as his sense of injustice rose.
Chakotay sat back against the wall, one hand wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee whilst the other spooned half-cold stew into his mouth with savage intent.
His brow lifted half amused at the euphemism. "Neutralisation? Didn't know there was that high a price on my head." Half closed eyes contemplated the man pacing opposite him. He wondered if Jannay would have pulled the trigger, given the opportunity of course.
Could he, Chakotay of Dorvan, son of Kolopak kill someone he had been close to, as he had been with this man? Searching his mind and heart, he realised, to his horror that he probably could, given the right circumstances. He did not want to put his resolve to the test however.
It seemed then, if Jannay had told him the truth, and he believed he had, that the traitor lay in his own camp. Unfortunately, most of the Maquis in his group had known of the raid, the reasons behind it and the schedule to be followed. How the hell was he to narrow down his suspects? He had trusted them all implicitly, now he found himself eyeing everyone with barely concealed suspicion. Rationally, he could easily eliminate some. Dent, Trima, Jackson and Porune had all been off planet when the plan was initialised, not returning until after Jannay had been briefed. Four down, ten to go. Who had access to the com? The security levels they had set up here meant that any unauthorised transmissions should have been picked up by the scanning equipment; a legacy from the mining corporation who had earlier occupied this piece of rock he currently called home. So, if it wasn't an unauthorised message, then someone, one of his cadre damn it, had made use of the system usually kept under someone's eye at all times.
Porune arrived to take his place in guarding the prisoner. There seemed a little more colour in her cheeks now though her eyes remained dead. He saw Jannay's eyes grow wary as Porune's grip on her phaser tightened slightly.
"I'll be back shortly," he said, making sure Porune and Jannay caught the warning in his voice.
Tuvok sat quietly by the com system, a role he had assumed almost from the beginning of his time with them, deep in contemplation of B'Elanna's updated report. The Arrow had been stripped bare, her salvageable parts packed away, ready to stow on board the Viking. Nothing went to waste in his unit.
Seska was overdue. It was now late into the evening, the ship should have been back by first light that morning. A chilly feeling crept through him, a premonition of disaster or sheer tiredness?
"Anything?"
A small shake of the head told him all he needed to know. Damn it, something was wrong. Without the Viking, they had no means of escape from this desolate rock. If the ship had been captured… He didn't let his mind dwell on that outcome, instead he began to make provisional plans setting the remaining members of his team to collating and packing any useable items not too heavy to carry. A portable replicator, weapons anything that might insure their survival should flight prove to be the only recourse. With everyone busy he needed to free up Porune from her vigil, right now, Jannay was the last thing to worry him.
Returning quickly to Jannay's holding area, he heard the ominous sounds of a fight in progress. Porune, slim and fragile looking, had his erstwhile friend against the wall, her forearm slowly crushing the life from him. He grabbed her from behind, his sudden assault breaking her hold on the prisoner. Jannay slid down the wall, one hand clutched against his throat, his breath still rattling noisily.
"What the hell!"
A quick assessment assured him that Jannay was not too badly hurt and he turned his attention to the Bajoran at his side. Her breath still coming in quick sharp gasps, her eyes wide and alive with hate.
"Bastard 'fleeter!" she spat. Turning, she tried to get past Chakotay. His hands gripped her tightly; he had no intention of letting her go until he had the reason behind this attack.
"What happened?" His calm voice counterbalancing her rising tones.
She shook him off, her stance belligerence personified. "Ask him what he thinks of the 'conflict' on Bajor, ask him what he thinks of the Treaty, ask him…"
"I get the drift." His eyes were stormy, hard and unforgiving as he turned to the man propped against the wall. "I knew I should have listened to B'Elanna. We should have left you behind, given you to the Cardassians when we had the chance. You sit there, so damn smug in your beliefs. You should live where my people have lived, seen what they have seen. Even after T'Mel you still think you are right. I should leave you to Porune's tender mercies. I should…"
Having got up a full head of steam, only Tuvok's insistent hold on his arm broke through his tirade; he had been unaware of his quiet approach.
"Seska just checked in. The Viking should be returning in approximately ten minutes. We have trouble coming right behind them. Somehow, Gul Evek has found out our location. Seska dropped off her passengers, and was heading back when she ran into a Cardassian patrol. She shook them off, but they could find us at any moment. We need to move, and fast."
Jannay's confused glance took some of the heat from Chakotay's temper. This, at least, was news to him.
"Make yourself useful, help Porune and Dent pack the rest of the stuff up, now. Porune," he turned to the woman still seething at his side, " don't let him out of your sight. But make use of him. Go."
As he helped move equipment and supplies to the outside loading bay, he continued his ruminations on who his traitor could be. As colleagues passed him, he checked his facts, matching time frame and knowledge to each individual. No one seemed to match his criteria, apart from the three people he trusted most. B'Elanna, Tuvok and Seska. His mind balked at the thought that any of them would willingly trade the Maquis for anything the Cardassians or Starfleet could offer.
The tunnels that currently harboured his cell still held traces of the ore the mine had been sunk for. It pervaded every piece of rock right up to the topsoil. The mine had been abandoned when the process became unprofitable yet there was still enough of the substance left to cause them severe problems with communications. Messages got through – barely, but transporters would not function with any degree of safety. Chakotay hated that they would be exposed until Seska and the Viking was in orbit.
Part of his attention observed as Jannay and Dent manhandled a large case into the open. Weapons collected from a group of Cardassians who they had dealt with some weeks ago. Behind them, Porune carried a smaller case packed with spare power units. Spread all around him, the men and women of his group worked together, bringing supplies into a tight arena to make transport easier.
The air seemed to grow colder and Chakotay felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He found himself looking skyward and not knowing why.
Seska's voice chirruped from the com, she was ready to beam the first consignment aboard. Still tense, Chakotay organised his first party of men and cargo, watching as they twinkled out of existence.
From out of nowhere, a bolt of energy hit the ground metres away from his position. Instinctively he dove for the ground; Maquis ran in all directions, taking cover as best they could. Above them, they heard the high whine of another bolt heading for their position. The Arrow, nothing but a bare shell now, took the full impact. Instead of disintegrating, the ship exploded sending pieces of metal shearing through the air in a hail of deadly debris.
Porune was still on her feet, running fast towards Chakotay's position. A huge piece of the Arrow's hull hurtled toward her. Leaping up, a warning dying on his lips, Chakotay watched as the events before him seemed to move in slow motion.
Jannay had also seen the danger and had started toward the fleeing Bajoran, a warning yell on his lips. Porune, caught between the two men's sudden appearance, lost her sure footing for a moment, stumbling back into the flight path of the deadly projectile. Jannay reached her first, bowling her legs from under her with a tackle that would have won praise from his old football coach. She fell, and he fell with her but not quickly enough. Hot metal sheared through his arm and part into his chest, blood erupting in a viscous torrent.
As Jannay hit the floor, time returned to its normal speed for Chakotay. Moving fast, he was at the downed man's side in seconds. Porune, still dazed from the power of his tackle, staggered to join him. Blood pumped from severed arteries, pooling under the mangled body, turning the gold of his uniform back to scarlet. Helpless to stop the flow, to save this life Chakotay waited for yet another friend to die. He picked up the limp hand, feeling for a pulse. Jannay's lips moved trying to speak and he came closer to catch the man's last words.
"You… were right. I… T'Mel didn't deserve…" Panic infused the pale face lying now in a halo of gore. Chakotay's grip tightened on the dying man's rapidly cooling hand. "I'm afraid… I'm so cold… Chakotay!"
Bursts of fire had been scorching the earth close to their position, unheeded until now as dirt sprayed around them, that particular hit striking bare inches from their location.
Tuvok yelled from his post that Seska had to take them now. The little ship had disarmed the Cardassian vessel, for the moment, they had to go or they would all be trapped.
"I'm coming. Porune, get the last of the Maquis together, help with the wounded."
"You?"
"I'm right behind you. Go."
He wanted time to say this last goodbye, time to mourn another death he had caused, however unwittingly. Jannay's hand slid from his, he heard the terrible rattle of his last exhalation. Too late. Always too late. Spirits, will this never end.
B'Elanna ran to him, gripping his shoulder painfully, yet he did not feel it, nor hear her insistent yell in his ear. The slap to the back of his head did finally get through to him. He shook off her next attack, his large hand grabbing hers tightly. They ran then, back to the assembly point and Chakotay watched the world around him sparkle out of existence, to be replaced by the pandemonium onboard the Viking.
For years now he had cut off his emotions, there was no way a Maquis leader could wallow in sentimentality. He drew on those dead years now, shutters slammed down within him, he felt nothing, would feel nothing until this conflict was done. He did not think about the consequences of hoarding his emotions, did not let it affect him – he could not afford that luxury.
He took his seat at helm, Tuvok at tactical Dent on navigation; B'Elanna had sprinted to her console, sending Seska to monitor the engines. The Viking would need every bit of help it could get.
"As much power as you can give me, B'Elanna!"
A blast of energy hit the Viking, reducing shields and cutting engine power to a minimum.
"Maquis ship, this is Gul Evek of the Cardassian Fourth Order. Cut your engines and prepare to surrender or we will…!