Chapter 7 – A plan so cunning
'The end justifies the means. But what if there is never an end? All we have is means.'
"I have trouble grasping the meaning of this entry in your personal logs, Commander Chakotay. When I put it next to the exchanges you had with the Cardassian traitor after she left Voyager, it makes for very disturbing reading indeed. Would you care to explain yourself?"
"As you've noticed, Admiral Nechayev, those logs date from the time Seska contacted me. I wrote them in such a way to gain her trust, entice her to think I was ready to abandon Voyager. It was obvious she could not read the logs I had made before she hacked into my computer, so I played on her hatred of all things Federation."
My court martial is in its second day and the collar of the new uniform I'm wearing is much too tight. I itch to get rid of it, or is Starfleet that I find too rigid?
Admiral Hayes throws his weight around. "All we have is means. What course, such drivel makes plenty of sense coming from a Maquis deserter and mutineer."
Hayes' distrust of the Maquis seems to have grown since his first message to the captain a little more than three years ago. In the flesh, the man is hardly impressive, but Kathryn's comment at the time that he was a windbag is dangerously out of date. He is among those who believe the Maquis betrayed the Federation and were the roots of the open conflict with the Cardassians.
"Given her duplicitous mind, Seska would have assumed the same as you do, Admiral," Kathryn says, her poker face firmly in place.
Quinn gives us an amused look. Of the three admirals in front of me, he is the most tolerant but says very little. It is obvious the bench is stacked against me despite Kathryn's deep-seated confidence I will get a fair trial.
Hayes frowns, but Nechayev thankfully takes the opportunity to suspend the session for a lunch break before he locks swords with Kathryn again. The admiral waits until the two men have left the room before gesturing at my defence counsel to join her.
Kathryn's hand squeezes my arm. "I'll come and see you as soon as I can, Chakotay."
"I'll be fine," I whisper to her.
As I am led out the trial room by security, I wonder what Nechayev wants with my wife.
Even though I have great difficulties remembering the man I was then, I never expected to avoid the consequences of my mutiny once we were back in the Alpha quadrant. Kathryn tells me I'll get a rap on the knuckles, a dishonourable discharge at most, but I know better. Starfleet does not forget nor forgive that easily. I've told her that, but she doesn't listen.
It's only Voyager's triumphant return that has prevented news of my trial from being made public so far. But the respite won't last. When I am found guilty, her career will be in tatters, her reputation destroyed – the captain who made a traitor her first officer, the woman who married a Maquis. That prospect weighs heavily on my mind even as she says she doesn't care. Seven years giving my soul and heart to her and I find myself the cause of her fall once again.
###
"I would like to talk to you before the start of the proceedings this afternoon. Join me for lunch in my office?"
Coming from Admiral Nechayev, the suggestion has the force of an order. I follow her to the transporter, then into the Admiralty Office building. It is highly irregular for a presiding judge to meet with the defence counsel in private, but I've learned since our return to Earth that Nechayev is hardly one to stick to protocol when it does not suit her. My propensity to do the same according to my debriefing panel hasn't pleased her though, so I brace myself for more lectures about my barbed exchanges with Hayes.
"I won't beat around the bush, Janeway," she says, sitting behind the large desk dominating the room. Two trays are already waiting for us. My coming here was expected.
"Admiral Paris told me you are resigning from Starfleet after the court martial. Is that true?"
Annoyance flares in my mind. I haven't confided in Owen for him to repeat my words to the person who is more than likely to be the one to ruin Chakotay's name.
"I don't approve of an organisation who is so intent on condemning my first officer after his impeccable service to Voyager's crew and proven allegiance to Starfleet during our time in the Delta quadrant."
She starts on her sandwich. Since Chakotay's arrest, the unfairness of it all has churned my stomach, and I leave my meal untouched.
"And in all logic, I doubt Starfleet will approve of a captain whose first officer has been deemed guilty of mutiny," I add.
"Your penchant for putting yourself in untenable positions has certainly not helped your standing in the eyes of some. It follows a pattern of questionable decisions you made as captain. The first one was to offer the position of first officer to a Maquis leader you were sworn to bring back to justice. The second was to marry the man, and, strangely enough, only a few days after we contacted Voyager."
"You've already made your disapproval abundantly clear at my debriefings, Admiral."
She picks a small bunch of grapes, delicately plucking the small red globes one by one.
"Quite so. And your latest decision to be Chakotay's defence counsel is not aiding your cause. I mean who on earth thought you were the best person to defend him?"
"I think my husband did, as it is his right under court martial procedures."
Not that I gave him much of a choice in the matter. I know he wanted to protect me, but the last thing he needed was a lawyer who had never flown past Saturn's rings taking on the job.
"Sticking to the rules, are we now?"
Before I can think of a repartee, Nechayev waves me off. "I did not ask you here to discuss Chakotay."
"That is exactly what we are here for, Admiral," I say, deliberately misconstruing her words. "My first officer is sitting in a holding cell waiting for a fate he does not deserve, decided by admirals whose minds are closed to any insight in the pivotal role he played in keeping a ship and crew together."
Weeks of debriefings and days preparing for Chakotay's defence has left me short of temper and sleep, so I let rip with pent up frustration.
"The case against him is outrageous. He has proven himself over seven long years as the best first officer a captain could ever ask for, he has upheld Starfleet principles in several occasions against my own judgement, he has put his own life in danger to save many of my crew, regardless of whether they started out as Maquis or Starfleet. But Hayes can only see him as a Maquis traitor and you agree with him. It's Seska who betrayed us, not Chakotay."
"Have you finished?" Nechayev throws the bare grape rachis on the tray. I can't help thinking the same fate awaits my husband. "Seska," she continues. "An interesting personality. Both your deposition and that of your first officer on your encounters with her left a lot unsaid. What exactly happened between the three of you?"
"It's all on record. There's nothing to add."
"I've sat on enough court martials and debriefings to recognise carefully edited logs when I see them. What was the species called? The Kozin? Kazon. Yes, the Kazon… You manage to get on their ship, thanks to the same Chakotay who allegedly had told you about Seska contacting him, a mere ten days after the end of his mutiny. Together, you destroy all the Starfleet torpedoes the Kazon had built, and effect a daring escape with the help of two crew members who had very nearly left you for dead less than a fortnight before. The Kazon don't pursue the ship and nothing is heard of that Cardassian woman ever again. The perfect cunning plan, so flawlessly executed it should be taught at the Academy tactical course."
I put my fingers to my throbbing temple. "Admiral, I don't see the relevance of this conversation. I have court documents to go through with Chakotay, so if you don't mind…"
My hands find the arms of the desk chair.
"Indulge me a little longer, Kathryn."
Maybe it's her use of my first name which sounds all wrong coming from a woman who presided over my debriefings and now stands to end my husband's freedom with a snap of her fingers.
I sit back.
"Coffee?"
"Thank you," I say wearily.
She moves to the replicator niche. "One coffee, black. One Earl Grey tea."
"I want to make sure your loyalty to your husband does not come at the expense of your allegiance to Starfleet and the Federation," she says while waiting for the cups to appear. "Your older self tinkering with her own timeline has us worried about a repeat disaster, even if technically you are not her. Yet. Frankly, we don't know if we can trust you at the moment."
I bristle under the innuendo. "The debriefings—"
"The debriefings were about you as Voyager's captain. The decisions you made and the solutions you found when in the direst straits." She turns around, cups in hand.
"And yes, you made mistakes, but nobody has ever contemplated being on the bridge of a lone starship for seventy-five years with no support for tens of thousands of light-years. Don't be mistaken by the roasting you received from me. I am impressed by what you did. We all are."
Her words are news to me. She wrung me dry for weeks on end, forcing me to justify decisions I hardly recall making, about species I have mostly forgotten, in circumstances which by the end of our journey blended into one another at the speed of light. What I do remember is coming back every late evening to the small quarters Chakotay and I had been allocated, and throwing up in the bathroom, his hand drawing small circles on my back.
Nechayev puts the cups on a small table by a large window overlooking the grounds, and invites me to move to one of the deeper chairs across it. As much as the view is soothing, I would much prefer to return to Chakotay's side.
The Admiral settles opposite me, ankles crossed. "But what you did is in the past. I am looking to the future, Starfleet future. Since the end of the Dominion war, we've been reconsidering the entirety of our operations, our military capabilities, logistics, the space stations, the fleet. Everything has been put under the microscope."
Owen has told me as much already, but I let Nechayev come to the point while appreciating the coffee. Trust the admiralty to have access to state-of-the-art replicators.
"We are also looking into our people, from recruitment through to training and career advancement, and that's where you come in. There is a new role waiting for you. What would you say to a Rear Admiral position?"
I almost drop my cup. "Rear Admiral? But I thought…"
"Starfleet needs fresh blood. Business as usual is not possible anymore. We've got to be more nimble, faster to react, more daring, but also able to see the much longer term, think over decades, not the next tour of duty or the latest skirmish near the DMZ."
Her little speech has given me time to recover. "And if I accept, Chakotay walks free? Is this some sort of blackmail?"
"Only a duplicitous mind would consider a promotion to be blackmail, my dear captain."
Her grin is fleeting. "The Dominion war has left us with many captains who shoot first and think later, and admirals growing old and reflecting on the past. You've met two. Hayes is a dinosaur. In his mind, he is still fighting the Maquis rebellion. Quinn is a couple of years short of his retirement, and he is worn-out."
"There is Admiral Paris, Captain Picard," I counter.
"Paris is a good man, but there aren't many in his position as efficient and driven as he is. Picard refuses promotion after promotion and encourages his first officer to follow in his footsteps," she says with some disgust.
I refrain a smile. Picard's stubbornness and Riker's loyalty to his ship and captain are legendary.
"My offer is more than just welcoming another heroic captain to our ranks. You have experience we can't hope to replicate. Eventually, the Borg will be back, not to mention the threat Species 8472 could still pose. When I watched your logs about the Hirogens, the Devore, the Krenim, my skin crawled. We need to ensure those species will not seek us and create alliances with those you befriended. Nobody is better placed than you to oversee this process."
Her analysis of the problems facing the Federation and Starfleet is right on target in my opinion, but her methods…
"And if I say no? I don't like blackmail and I certainly don't respond well to bribery, Admiral."
"Save your death glare for those who are your real enemies, Janeway. If you accept, I'll put a lot of pressure on my two colleagues to make them change their minds. The future of the Federation will trump any objections they might have."
She lifts her hand to prevent me from interrupting. "I call my offer a win-win situation. I didn't choose Hayes and Quinn to sit on the bench with me on a whim. Both are well respected within Starfleet and their opinions still carry a lot of weight. They won't bow to your pleas but leave them to me and you'll get what you want. And more."
I have an inkling of where this one-sided conversation is headed. "Chakotay will get a full pardon, and his commission will be reinstated. If I accept."
"I can promise as much. We cannot have a Rear Admiral married to a has-been. The deliberations of the court will show without a shadow of a doubt that Chakotay's Maquis records were expunged on grounds of good character and his impeccable service for the past seven years. What I will say to my colleagues beforehand to convince them will be vigorously denied if it ever comes to light."
Her statement sends a shiver down my back. "I believe you."
"Make no mistake, Janeway. Without your consent, my arguments will have much less weight. Of course, Chakotay's conduct since his mutiny will be taken into consideration."
She leans back, holding her tea cup daintily. "I imagine that will reduce his prison sentence to five years, give or take a couple of months. Maybe four if Hayes is in a good mood," Nechayev throws at me like a loaded phaser.
"Prison?" I whisper, my heart beating too hard in my chest.
Five years. I can't contemplate being separated from him for that long. "He'll be a broken man."
"Then do we have a deal, Janeway? It is a fair arrangement for all concerned."
Seska's exact words from a lifetime ago, when Chakotay's future was also in my hands.
###
That afternoon, my husband walks away from the court a free man.
'I have come up with a plan so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a weasel.' Black Adder The Third, 1987.
'The end justifies the means. But what if there never was an end? All we had was means.' From The Lathe of Heaven, Ursula Le Guin 21 Oct 1929 – 22 Jan 2018.