Chapter 2
"...so why are we in Nepal?"
Janeway had been reading the latest updates Jenkins had send as a mug of coffee stood cold and forgotten on the table in front of her. She had been so engorged that she hadn't heard him walk up behind her.
His question snapped her back to reality and she looked up at him.
He seemed huge in comparison to the ancient little coffeehouse where she had arranged for them to meet. Almost like a father who was clumsily looking for his child in some children's climbing structure, desperately trying to fit his oversized limbs through foam forests, slides and cargo nets.
The little detached building in the middle of Taumadhi square was entirely made of ancient bricks and Newari-carved wood, which gave it a cozy and authentic touch. Janeway had picked a seat on the balcony which went round the establishment and was so narrow that besides a walking path for waiters, there was only room for a small table with two chairs facing each other.
Sitting back to back with the next customer strangely formed a sense of intimacy since everyone was somewhat leaning over their table in an attempt to respect their neighbors' privacy. The scene of adults scooched together like this had reminded Janeway of giddy teenagers sharing secrets that weren't meant for ears others than those in front of them.
Although her seat offered a view of the square and it's ancient buildings, the balcony was in the shadow and felt somewhat secluded; both in thanks to a large overhanging roof.
It was a dry, hot afternoon, and the square beneath them had reminded her of an ants nest filled with salesmen, tourists, children running around en groups of women sharing the latest gossip. The high, overshadowed terrace offered an oasis of tranquility; away from the chaos.
"Because it's far enough from San Francisco but not so far that I would have to explain my absence." She stated in response to his playful inquiry.
"Besides" she continued while standing up "I figured an archeologist like you would appreciate a beautiful surrounding like Bhaktapur."
Her warm smile and genuine hug were reciprocated in a way that betrayed the intimacy that existed between them. An ignorant bystander would have mistaken the meeting for a carefree lunch between two old friends, catching up.
As he sat down in front of her, his demeanor changed however; "Is it beautiful? I hadn't noticed."
Over the years she had learned to read his face like an open book. A mere twitch in the corner of his mouth, or a slight raise of his eyebrow (detectable only by carefully set measuring equipment) never went by unnoticed. The warmth she had recognized in his smile had already made way for a look of exhaustion.
"Chakotay..." She reached over the small wooden table to hold his hand.
"Tell me you have good news." The uncertainty in his eyes made her wish she could oblige him.
"I do, but it never comes without its counterpart."
He raised his eyebrows.
"…bad news." She explained.
Chakotays POV
As she explained to me that Starfleets admiralty considered their newly formed friendship with the Romulans too vulnerable a relation to interfere within their space I couldn't help but notice that she had a button missing. Her white, linen blouse was casually rolled up at the sleeves and a little curly string was frantically begging for attention at about the height of her collar bone.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" She was looking at me with concern. "I've exhausted all the official channels. The war is just too fresh in everyone's memory. They won't risk it."
Confused, she follows the path of my stare and I quickly tear my eyes off her blouse and gaze over the square with its supposed beauty.
"The Romulans are that adamant, are they?"
"Well, frankly, I think if it wasn't for the Romulans, Starfleet still wouldn't punch trough on behalf of the Cardassian primark. He's set on salvaging his cargo and he's not about to step down. "
She's interrupted by a waiter "Good afternoon! -would you like something to drink? -if you like I can bring you our menu; today's special is a spicy chicken curry with basmati rice and naan-bread." Without looking up from his handheld the skinny boy was already entering some info (our table number?) and his well-practiced waterfall of words gave the impression that he wasn't planning on lingering at our table for very long.
Kathryn, never letting anyone rush her, takes her time in placing our order.
She always takes the lead in trivial things such as ordering meals since she's so used to being in command. It's become second nature. I remember one time when Paris had made arrangements for dinner to celebrate the end of a period full of voyager-debriefings. We had all been eager to leave the tiresome bureaucrats for what they were and move on. As Kathryn had stepped out of her taxi it hadn't occurred to her to pay the pilot or even to close the hatch behind her. The angry pilot had had to come to our dining table to collect his fee and told her that 'you Starfleet brass are all the same'. Anyone who knew her though knew better than to mistake habit for arrogance.
"I would like one coffee, black, and one herbal tea. You can take this one, it's gone cold." She turns to me as she asks "Would you like something to eat? You look like you could use a decent meal."
It strikes me that after years of fussing over her eating habits she finally gets to return the favor.
I decide to indulge her and tell the waiter to bring whatever it was he just recommended.
The vertical line between her eyebrows disappears as she's obviously relieved at my willingness to eat. "Don't let this get the best of you, Chakotay, even though it must be difficult not to, being right in the middle of it."
For days on end I had hardly slept and all my actions were done on automatic pilot. I felt as though I had been running on end and was now on my final sprint. The last couple of hundred meters where the muscles in my legs started to fill with acid and my surroundings passed by in slow motion as oxygen was in short supply and adrenaline was all I had left.
Detached from the world around me, everything I did was without emotion and out of rational necessity. I guess it's a short-term failsafe built in my brain, saving the emotional repercussions for later.
"Knowing that you're out here fighting the fight keeps us all going." I try to lift her spirits "So what was the good news?"
"I've been able to obtain the exclusive legal rights to all our data concerning Omega." I can't suppress a chuckle as the pride of this accomplishment is apparent on her face.
"That must have been a challenge."
"You have no idea! It took ages of lobbying. But I knew when to stand on my feet and when to get down on my knees and I got it done."
Still gloating she accepts the drinks as the waiter puts them down in front of us. I wonder if job requirements for these waiters included having a BMI below 18 since maneuvering on these narrow paths while holding dishes and beverages required not only skill but also slender hips.
"How did you ever come up with this place?"
She dismisses my question with a quick shrug. "I now have the rights for a period of ten years and the clause about not putting it to ill use is about as thick as the bible."
"I'm sure." still unconvinced of my appreciation, she keeps assuring me of the incredible lengths she's had to go trough. I enjoy being convinced and having her full and undivided attention so I withhold my appraisal for a while.
I'm glad I came to this coffeehouse. The fact that it had the size of a dollhouse only made it more suiting for a meeting with Kathryn who seemed to fit perfectly in these surroundings. It came as a shock to me just how much I welcomed this little get away with her, away from the exhausting sufferings back in Romulan space.
Earlier, when I had come running up to the balcony of the coffeehouse and as I was apologizing for bumping into the first table that had been surprisingly close to the stairs, I had already been looking for her.
My slow-motion, adrenaline rushed world had come to a sudden halt at the moment I turned a corner and found her lost in some reading, neglecting to drink her coffee.
A load fell off my shoulders and I was thankful for the one and only distraction I could allow myself to indulge in at this precarious time; Kathryn Janeway, hair down and out of uniform.
Seeing her, working diligently and overflowing with good intentions, I had felt a rush of guilt getting a hold of me. I knew she'd been working around the clock, putting her precious career at risk, and I couldn't help but wonder if I was a bad influence. I know that she would have given this her everything, regardless of my intervention, but would she also have strayed off the Starfleet path if it hadn't been for me?
Letting her struggle for my praise any longer suddenly seems cruel.
"I don't know if I can say this without sounding condescending, but I'm proud of you Kathryn. You're obviously very influential and you know how to put it to good use. You really pulled trough."
Satisfied with my compliments she sits back and looks at me with content.
"So what's his name?" I know it's a touchy subject.
She sighs and averts her eyes. "Daniel." In a pathetic attempt she pretends the square has completely caught her attention with its pompous ruins and activity that could tip that of a beehive. "His name is Daniel."
Daniels POV
"Basta! We can't make exceptions, youngman, it wouldn't be long before the next poor soul came knocking at our door!"
Just as the attendant of the hovercraft wanted to close the door in my face, a banner of the Madrid soccer team on the wall behind him caught my attention. I had forgotten the name of the club but that wasn't going to keep me from getting on this transport so I decided to try and get the attendants goodwill.
"My little boy just won his first soccer match by scoring the deciding goal. He hated that I wasn't able to be there for the game but when I got his message 10 minutes ago I decided to try for the last transport after all."
The door paused midway and I decide to try a different approach "It's today's last transport; you won't have to deal with delays for the rest of the day."
The tall attendant, who was wearing a mustache like no one had since Victorian times, sighed and I realized he just needed one final nudge.
"His name is Eric, he'd be so grateful; having a dad in Starfleet means quality time with his old man is scarce." I pause and as I'm padding my pockets and check the zippers of my bag I add "I'm sure I have a picture here somewhere…"
Convinced by my bluff but unwilling to wait for my search he opens the door and steps out. "...madre madonna…" He mumbles to himself as he pushes some buttons and the craft immediately winds down until no more engine sounds are to be heard. A hatch opens and I'm free to step aboard.
"You tell that boy of yours to keep up the good stuff; those thick Starfleet skulls of yours couldn't head a ball if it came right at you!" I foolishly nod in agreement. "And don't think you can ever get away with this again!"
"No, no, I won't, thank you! You're doing us a huge favor! Thank you!" I yell over my shoulder as I run towards the craft that's already reinitializing engines for take off.
Once inside, I ignore the accusing looks of fellow passengers and I decide to pick a seat on the other end of the vehicle. Relieved, and tired from running to the transit station, I sit down in front of a girl who's chewing gum and looks at me with veined disinterest. She wears too much make up, probably in a failed attempt to look older, and won't hide the fact that she watches me closely as I open my laptop and start working.
My meeting with Janeway was two weeks ago and I've been drowning in my work ever since; trying to juggle my research with my regular classes and desperately failing in my attempts to not let it interfere with my social life and good night's sleep.
The list of people to interview was never-ending and the amount of data that I had to consume in record time was ridiculous. Not to mention complex. I had been staring at these values for hours and hours but I felt as though I was just starting to comprehend the basics.
Janeway had assured me that she didn't expect me to come up with the key to the alignment of Omega. After all, highly qualified scholars and fleet officers couldn't figure out what was needed to keep the perfect balance. She 'merely' expected me to work out a theory and hypothesize from there.
My mind wanders as I think of my father. I had just visited my hometown for the first time since my Omega-obsession because my father had demanded I'd celebrate my birthday back home. I'd been too late as a meeting with Seven had taken longer than expected. Once home I had found my father sleeping in his fauteuil with an uncut birthday cake on the table, a silly birthdayhat on his head and a wrapped present on his lab. The sight broke my heart.
Ever since my mother had died a long time ago my father had done everything he could to maintain family life. When I left for the academy I vowed to always come home for every birthday and Christmas since I knew my father would do his best to turn his house into a welcoming home. It didn't matter that it was just for the two of us, he would always make a huge effort. I loved him for it but I also felt guilty as I considered an effort not to disappoint him.
With the guests gone, and the moon already in the sky, my father was overjoyed as I woke him. He told me he had given up hope of my coming and how our family and friends had been incredibly proud that I was working with no other than admiral Janeway. We talked for a long time and I welcomed his reassuring words as I told him how uncertain I was about my ability and how overwhelmed I was by the work that had to be done. His fatherly logic had felt like a warm blanket even though it consisted of empty phrases and pointless truths ranging from 'she didn't choose you for no reason', to 'she's been a cadet herself, she knows your predicament'.
After I had said my goodbyes I realized that I had to catch the last transport if I was going to make my appointment with Seven tomorrow. I'm sure there would be dire consequences if I canceled. Seven was a strict supervisor and her opinion of me, I'm sure, would affect that of Janeway. For a moment nothing had seemed as important as getting on that transport. It was as if my whole thesis depended on it. Beating myself up over running late, I ran to make it to the transit station in time, which I almost didn't.
Looking out the viewport I realize the hovercraft has already left Spain, my place of birth, as I could make out the ocean in the small area that was lit up by the crafts lights. I start making myself comfortable in preparation for the next hour, which I will spend going over yet more data, but an incoming message alert catches my eye.
I carefully read the words as my mouth goes dry and I feel drops of sweat forming on my forehead.
I read the message again as my mind slowly starts to take in the words: 'Daniel Arias…hereby summoned…Starfleet Intelligence…criminal court…face charges…flight risk…secrecy…Janeway'.
I was to report at Starfleet intelligence first thing tomorrow, bringing all the data I had concerning my research. I was not to speak of this to anyone, especially not admiral Janeway. If I was not to follow these precise orders I could be charged with obstruction of justice.
I pushed my thump on the designated print-reader to verify that I had received and read the message. There was no going back now, I had to show up. But I had nothing to hide did I? What could this be about? I knew nothing about Janeway, so why would they want to question me about her? Or was this about me?
I desperately start to think of information I could have that might be of interest but I can't come up with anything about either the admiral or myself. Perhaps this was standard procedure for anyone who took an interest in Omega?
The look on my face must have been an intense one since the girl with too much make up on stood and went to sit with people on the far end of the vehicle.
Besides being intimidated by this strange turn of events, I have to admit to myself that I'm quite intrigued and I resist the urge to hail Collin to hear his opinion on the matter.
Tonight was going to be another sleepless night. But this time it wasn't because of my work. I now had something even more pressing to occupy my mind with.