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Part 10
He'd let himself get soft.
Sitting on the end of his bed and staring out the window into the stormy darkness, Chakotay suspected that these many months of standing in front of classrooms had caused him to lose his edge.
Standing in front of classrooms…and something else.
Rain pounded on the roof of his house, a harsh percussion accompaniment to his troubling thoughts. He'd driven home from San Francisco in a happy haze, overflowing with hopes of starting a new life, finally, with Kathryn. She hadn't promised him anything specific, and that was so typical of her that he'd let it pass. "Our timing was never right before," she'd said, and even though it wasn't much, it was the first time she'd ever admitted that there was something between them which might suffer from bad timing.
He'd received her words like a schoolboy learning that the prettiest girl in class had finally noticed his existence. He didn't think he'd ever felt so giddy. Kathryn would have laughed at his sudden glee. She would probably have said he simply wasn't used to her coffee anymore, so strong it could almost get up and dance on its own.
By the time The Falcon reached the end of the lane from the highway to his house, he'd convinced himself he was the happiest man alive. Even though it was nearly 0100, he'd bounded up the porch steps and into the house intending to find Kayma and tell her everything about Kathryn. Everything. He'd offer the talk he'd put off a week before, get her opinion, let her forthrightness and dry sense of humor bring him back to reality so that when Kathryn finally summoned him for the promised lunch, he'd be ready with a clear head and an open heart.
But the house was dark, and Kayma wasn't home.
He made himself a cup of calming chamomile tea and sat down on the sofa to wait for her, Kathryn's copy of Dante's Inferno open on his knees.
When the first raindrops began to fall, he'd built a small fire to ward off the dampness and moved to his favorite chair near the cheerful little flame.
At 0215, when the storm really began to rage, he'd crept into her room to make sure he hadn't missed her in the dark. He hadn't. He paced the length of the hallway from her room to his and back to the kitchen twice, comm in hand, arguing with himself. She was young, but an adult nevertheless. At her age, he'd already been on his own for almost eleven years, had completed two deep-space tours and was deciding whether or not to stay in space or go back to the Academy for another degree. Kayma had led a far more sheltered childhood than he, but she was smart and observant and just as competent in her own way. He had no reason to check up on her. She could take care of herself.
Furthermore, she was with Harry, one of the most upstanding and trustworthy men Chakotay had ever known. They were probably just having fun and had lost track of the time. He'd been young once himself. He could remember—barely—what it was like to be out on his own with a beautiful girl, away from his responsibilities, away from nosy elders who might disapprove if he tried to…
He ground his teeth and activated the comm. "Chakotay to Kayma."
Nothing.
He began to pace again, scowling at the little device in the palm of his hand as if it could reveal Kayma's whereabouts, if only he stared at it hard enough. It didn't. He sighed and closed the channel.
There was an answering chirp from Kayma's room.
With a sinking feeling, he called for lights and reactivated his comm. "Chakotay to Kayma?"
Chirp.
Damn. Why did he even bother to provide her with a comm if she never took it with her when she went out?
He toyed with the idea of contacting Harry instead, but if their positions were reversed, if he were the young man out with his former CO's pretty relative, would he welcome the intrusion? No, he would not. He liked to think he would have called the CO himself to check in, but he knew better.
At 0230, he trudged to his bedroom, kicked off his boots and sprawled on the bed.
At 0247, he stalked to the kitchen and poured himself a drink.
At 0322, with his feet stretched toward the dying fire and an empty glass balanced on the arm of his chair, he fell into a fitful sleep.
He awoke two hours later with a dry mouth, a shooting pain in his left hip, and an awful certainty that something was wrong. Surely Harry would have called, no matter how embarrassed, to let him know he and Kayma would not be returning until morning. Chakotay limped to his bedroom, rubbing his hip all the way, and retrieved his comm.
"Chakotay to Kim."
Nothing.
He sat down on the end of his bed to think.
Sunset this time of year was around 1915 hours, give or take a few minutes. Harry and Kayma had left the house half an hour before. Kayma hadn't specifically said where they were going, but Chakotay suspected they would have headed to a quiet and secluded beach a few kilometers south of his house. They'd probably stayed on the beach after sunset, although Chakotay refused think about what they might have been doing there, then they might have gone for tacos at the little restaurant she liked. Maybe coffee or drinks afterwards as the storm clouds began to roll in. Dancing? Possibly. He couldn't imagine Harry was much of a dancer, but Chakotay knew from experience that Kayma could talk anyone into almost anything, and Harry had a weakness for pretty girls to begin with.
By his conservative estimate, they would have set out for his house at 2200 or so, after he and Kathryn were long gone. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain Harry would have let him know if they had decided to go back to San Francisco together. Chakotay should have called as soon as he'd gotten home and realized Kayma was still out. But in his starry-eyed fog, he hadn't wanted to intrude on the young peoples' romantic evening.
Soft. He'd let himself get soft.
This feeling was exactly why he'd been right to never press Kathryn harder for a different kind of relationship while they were still in the Delta Quadrant. She brought him peace, but perhaps too much of that peace dulled and relaxed his instincts. In a part of the Universe that was constantly trying to kill them, he couldn't afford to lose that edge.
Apparently, he couldn't afford to lose it here in the Alpha Quadrant, either.
An hour before sunrise, he sat down in front of the house's comm and punched in the code to Harry's apartment, not expecting an answer.
He didn't get one.
He replaced it with Tom and B'Elanna's code and waited. Two minutes later, Tom's face appeared. He had dark circles under his eyes and his fair hair was standing on end. "Paris here," he sighed.
Chakotay didn't bother with niceties. "When's the last time you talked to Harry?"
Tom scowled. "Do you know what time it is?"
Chakotay glanced at the antique clock on the wall. "It's 0550. When's the last time you talked to Harry?"
"It's 0550 on a Sunday morning, Chakotay."
"I know that."
"Miral's teething. We just got her to go back to sleep an hour ago."
Chakotay ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Tom, but I think we may have an emergency."
"Involving Harry?"
"And Kayma."
Tom leaned toward the screen, instantly alert. "Fill me in."
"Harry and Kathryn came down for dinner yesterday. At about 1830, Harry and Kayma left to go watch the sunset. They never came back."
Tom cocked his head to one side. "Where's the Admiral?"
"I drove her back to San Francisco in The Falcon. Harry and Kayma were in her Starfleet car."
"Have you tried his comm?"
Chakotay nodded. "And his apartment."
Tom smirked. "You're afraid he's avoiding angry Papa Bear?"
Chakotay grimaced. You're definitely getting soft, Chakotay. "Could you try?"
Tom smiled. "I'm sure everything's fine. Just a minute."
Drumming his fingers on the desk, Chakotay watched Tom move out of the screen's range and return with his comm in hand. "Paris to Kim," he said.
They waited. Tom gave him a sympathetic glance. "They're probably still in—"
"Don't, Paris," Chakotay growled.
"Right. Sorry." Tom tapped the comm again.
"Try the apartment," Chakotay said.
"Will do. Hang on."
Chakotay's screen went blank for a full minute. When Tom appeared again, he looked as worried as Chakotay felt. "No answer."
"But the signal is going through?"
Tom shrugged. "As far as I can tell."
B'Elanna's voice entered the conversation. "As far as you can tell what?" She yawned and sat down next to Tom, who quickly brought her up to speed.
B'Elanna nodded. "Want me to scan for the comm?"
Chakotay's eyebrows rose. The scan would have been an easy matter from her office in the Starfleet Engineering Complex. But from their house in San Francisco? "Can you do that from there?"
She rolled her eyes and tapped the console, activating a second screen at the side of the desk. "Can I do that from here," she scoffed. "Don't forget who you're talking to, Chakotay."
He looked at Tom. "How can she do that from there?"
Tom gave him a tight smile. "I try not to ask too many questions."
Where B'Elanna and technology were concerned, that was probably a wise policy. Chakotay forced himself to be calm while B'Elanna did whatever she was doing. When she drew in a sharp breath and frowned, his fists clenched under the desk. "Did you find it?"
"Where did they go when they left your house?" she asked.
"To a beach she likes. From there, I'm not sure."
B'Elanna turned worried brown eyes on him. "Chakotay…if these coordinates are correct, Harry's comm is just a couple kilometers away from you."
Tom peered over her shoulder, scanned the information on the side screen and nodded. "She's right. Looks like it's two klicks and change south, right on the highway."
Chakotay's heart raced. "Can you scan for life signs?"
B'Elanna bit her lip. "I'll have to re-route the scan through the relay in the Bio Sciences building, and—"
Chakotay shook his head. "Don't tell me how, I don't want to know. Just do it."
B'Elanna started tapping a series of commands into the console. "Yes, sir," she said.
Chakotay grabbed a padd off the desk and waved it at Tom. "Send me the coordinates, Lieutenant."
"Aye, sir." Chakotay noted that they'd all fallen back on their training, now that a crisis was at hand, and a rush of adrenaline had snapped his mind into sharp focus. Maybe he wasn't as soft as he'd feared. The coordinates appeared on his padd and he started to rise, but Tom's voice stopped him. "Sir? Should I request a site-to-site?"
Chakotay shook his head. "By the time you get it arranged I can be there in The Falcon. But keep a lock on my comm and Harry's, and put start putting the request through just in case."
"Destination?"
Chakotay's throat tightened. "Starfleet Medical. And have someone activate the Doc."
Tom paled. "You think they've had a wreck?"
"It's the simplest explanation. The comm's working but they're too injured to answer."
Tom nodded in agreement. "Aye, sir. We'll keep you on comm."
"Acknowledged." Chakotay deactivated the desktop comm system, fetched his boots and dashed across his muddy yard to The Falcon. He pulled onto the Old Cabrillo Highway just as the first birds began to chirp in anticipation of the sunrise.
The highway was deserted in the foggy pre-dawn. He raced The Falcon the first two kilometers and slowed when he got near the coordinates, scanning the watery half-light for Kathryn's car, but saw nothing. He glanced at the coordinates again and got out of the car, wishing he had a tricorder. He should be right on top of Harry's comm badge, but he couldn't see anything – and Kathryn's car was nowhere in sight.
"Lieutenant Paris?" he called.
"Here, sir."
Chakotay wiped rain out of his eyes and squinted. "It's too hard to see out here. I'm going to have to cut you off and try Harry's comm."
"Acknowledged. Paris out."
Chakotay tapped his comm. "Chakotay to Kim."
The answering chirp sounded like it came from just a few meters away. Chakotay jogged toward it, tapping his badge repeatedly and following the answering sounds.
He saw the body before he saw the comm.
"Oh, Harry," he groaned.
The young man lay sprawled on his back, a bloody, angry hole the size of Chakotay's fist in the middle of his chest. Phaser at close range? He dropped beside the Lieutenant, trying to ignore the smear of mud and blood he was kneeling in, and looked at the wound again. Even at point-blank range and set to kill, a conventional phaser wouldn't have done this much damage to the body. This wound was like nothing he'd ever encountered, not even in the Maquis.
Hands shaking, Chakotay reached for Harry's pulse point and his own comm at the same time, scanning the ground around him for Kayma.
The comm chirped before he could touch it. "Paris to Chakotay."
"Beam Harry out, Tom!" Chakotay shouted, his voice echoing off the surrounding trees and scaring up a chorus of birdsong . He finally detected the younger man's weak and thready pulse. "He's alive, but barely. You've got to get him to the Doc right away!"
"Aye. We'll take you both," Tom replied quickly and calmly, a voice Chakotay had heard many times before when Tom's medic training had taken over.
"No!" Chakotay found Harry's comm and fastened it to the Lieutenant's belt. "I need to look for Kayma."
"She's not there, Chakotay," B'Elanna said. "I only found one lifesign: Harry's. If it was a wreck, she—"
Chakotay's whole body slumped. "It wasn't a wreck. Somebody attacked them. Harry's been shot at close range. Kayma and the car are gone." He swallowed hard. Tom and B'Elanna both gasped. "Beam Harry out now. Give me one more minute to look things over and meet me at Starfleet Medical as soon as you can."
"Acknowledged. Stand by."
The first rays of sunlight touched the redwoods nearby. In the momentary brightness, Chakotay saw a flash at the side of the highway: A nondescript silver groundcar, hidden in the brush.
He needed to come back with a tricorder. Better yet, he'd send Tuvok and Seven. If there were more clues here, they would find them.
While he waited for Harry's beam out, he stood and turned slowly on the spot, every instinct active and alert. He committed the crime scene to memory like the Doc with his cursed holocamera.
Harry with a hole in his chest. Click.
Kayma no longer on the scene. Click.
No sign of the Starfleet car. Click.
An unmarked car abandoned in the woods. Click.
There was a telltale hum, and Harry disappeared.
He quickly summarized what he knew and made a few tentative conjectures.
One: He never saw other cars on the Cabrillo Highway, especially so late at night. The attack probably wasn't random, and whoever had the car likely had Kayma, too.
Two: The attacker had shot Harry and left him behind. He wasn't the target. As far as Chakotay knew, Kayma didn't have an enemy in the Universe. She couldn't be the target, either, but now she was a hostage.
Three: The attacker had hidden the unmarked car and taken the Starfleet car. But when? After the attack? That would mean the attacker was in a hurry. Kathryn's car was covered with 'Fleet markings, and would be virtually impossible to disguise. But it was undoubtedly faster than the civilian car. If time were of the essence, the effort to make the swap was a gamble that made sense.
Four: But if the attacker had hidden the car before Harry and Kayma came along, he must have known they were coming. But how? Was the car itself the target? And how would the attacker have known it would be there? Kathryn had requisitioned it for the day, but she wasn't required to leave an itinerary for that kind of vehicle.
Kathryn.
Oh, Spirits.
Kathryn was the target. But the attacker had missed her and taken Kayma instead.
If the beam hadn't caught him at that instant, Chakotay's knees would have buckled.
Kayma was missing, and Kathryn was in danger.
Someone was trying to get to him.
=/\=
When Tom was certain the transport was complete, he flicked off the comm system and stood up, intending to get Miral ready to go to Starfleet Medical. But B'Elanna continued to tinker with the side console. He tried not to watch; like Chakotay, he had no desire to know how she was doing what she was doing, as long as it kept working for them.
"What are you looking for now?" he asked.
She gave her head a small shake. "Just making sure there's no other life sign at those coordinates."
Tom closed his eyes. "If there were a body…"
"I'd detect it. She's not there."
"Why would someone shoot Harry?"
"I don't know." She deactivated her console. "But the real question is, why would someone shoot Harry, take Kayma and steal the Admiral's car?"
Tom ran a hand through his hair. Something about the whole thing didn't feel right. "The Admiral's car…" he murmured. "But Harry and Kayma were in it."
"So maybe that's why he was shot. Maybe the attacker expected it to be…" The color drained from her face.
"Admiral Janeway. She was the target. They missed her. Shit."
"But if someone's trying to get to Chakotay…"
"Kayma would be just as valuable a hostage." Tom sank back down at the desk. "A car like that would have a tracking system on it, wouldn't it?"
B'Elanna stared at him with wide yes. "Yes, but I can't pull that data or scan for it from here," she said slowly, chewing her lip. "Not without the specific tracking frequency on the car. We don't have clearance for that information."
Tom reached for the comm. "We don't. But my Dad does."
=/\=
They drove for hours while Kayma dozed restlessly and Kathryn searched the night for a glimpse of anything familiar. Twice, she leaned over to peer at the car's dashboard. Its high-tech engine continued to purr, but eventually the power supply would dwindle and they'd have to stop.
Suder was silent for the entire trip, neither receiving nor initiating calls. Kathryn assumed that he'd had no qualms about talking to his contacts in front of Kayma, who probably wouldn't be able to glean anything useful from the conversation. He seemed to be much more careful now that he had an Admiral in tow.
His weapon lay across the front passenger seat, where Kathryn could neither see nor reach it. During the abduction, she'd noticed only that it was not a Starfleet-style weapon.
Slowly, trying not to jostle Kayma too much or attract Suder's attention, she wriggled her wrists to loosen the binding. She was certain she'd be able to get it off with a little more effort. If she had been alone with Suder, she would have removed it already and made another play for control of the weapon. But taking a tactical gamble would put Kayma in more danger, and that, she could not abide. So she contented herself with working the binding so that, if a time to act presented itself, she'd be able to get her hands free.
The work had the welcome side effect of keeping her awake. Kayma was better off getting a bit of rest, however fitful, but Kathryn couldn't afford to sleep and miss a crucial detail that might help get them out of this mess.
Without warning, Suder slowed and stopped the car. Kathryn craned her neck to see out the front window. In the pre-dawn light she made out a group of people standing at the side of the road, each one armed with a weapon similar to Suder's. They met in front of the car and conducted a quick and quiet conversation. Among them she noted a couple of Andorians and an Orion, and three people who could have been Human, Betazed or Bajoran. It was still too dark to tell.
Kathryn nudged Kayma awake. The girl sat up quickly and shook her head as if to clear it. Kathryn nodded to the figures outside. Kayma swallowed hard and nodded back.
Suder opened the back door and leaned in. "We're here, ladies," he sneered. "But I'm afraid that's all you can know for now." He raised his hand and pressed a hypo to Kathryn's neck.
Spirits sinking, she tried to knock his hands away but knew it was a fruitless effort. He grabbed her head and rammed the hypo home. On the other side of the car, a shadowy figure did the same to Kayma.
So much for focused and alert, she thought, and surrendered to unconsciousness.
-END Part 10-