Twenty
Koldera Minor
"Where's your army?"
"Excuse me?"
Chakotay looked up from his drink to the narrowed eyes of a tall, sharply-dressed man. Middle-aged, lean, and appearing completely sure of himself, he was not Kolderan. A twin set of narrow ridges lined the sides of his face; they creased near his cheekbones when he chuckled and pressed his lips together in a tight smile.
Foregoing invitation, the man slipped into the booth across from Chakotay, folded his hands on the table and regarded his new table mate.
It might have been half of a minute that passed, before the man spoke.
"You know, you could have tried a little harder."
Chakotay palmed his glass absently, furrowed his brow. "I don't know what you —"
The man gestured to his own face. "It's not bad, mind, but were you really imagining you'd not be recognized?"
Chakotay reflexively drew away from the table, sitting back against the booth — an unintended posture of weakness — more than a little thrown. He'd been planetside for nearly a week and no one had said a word to question his identity. He'd just begun to feel comfortable, convinced his anonymity was secure…
"I'm not sure I —"
The man laughed from deep within his chest and Chakotay suddenly felt like he was losing at a card game he couldn't even name. He watched as the stranger shook his head, clearly quite entertained.
"You spent a lot of time here, but it seems you didn't learn much." He gestured to a waiter, requested his "usual," and "another" for his "friend," turned back to Chakotay without missing a beat. "This is a port, a hub, foremost — life moves. In, out, through…"
The man appeared devoid of doubt and one-hundred-percent in charge of the very air he breathed, but — Chakotay realized as he collected himself — he did not seem particularly threatening, at least not in a physical sense. Some of the tension that had seized Chakotay's frame evaporated when he allowed himself that, worst case, he could probably pound the man into the floor without much trouble.
Breathing with that thought for a moment, Chakotay sipped his drink and feigned lack of concern. Inquired, "is there something you want?"
"Well, good. I'm glad we've gotten that out of the way! You know that I know who you are. We can move on." He grinned widely, all teeth and folded facial ridges, and Chakotay wondered if the man was ever not overly pleased with himself.
The drinks arrived, and as Chakotay watched the man happily down a hearty portion of his, he considered the value of continuing to play dumb versus the possibility that this stranger — knowledgeable as he seemed to be — might be able help him.
He pulled his new glass over, and played a card. "I've been here for several days, and no one's recognized me."
That laugh again.
"No one's recognized you, or no one's cared enough to mention it?"
He'd not even considered that possibility — felt for a moment that he'd just called for a hit on a king and a jack. Had he really been dumb enough to assume he was getting away with it?
The man seemed to sense his distress. "Don't worry about it. Really. I'm a particularly skilled observer of people — helps immensely in my business. And besides, the part about no one caring who you are, or were, if they figure it out?" He waved his hand about, seeming to gesture to the room at large. "I didn't just make that up. The more important thing for folks around here — much more important than whether or not your face has a couple of bumps on it — is that you're not trampling about the place with your soldiers, or threatening to blow everyone to a early grave from your mighty ship in the sky." He flipped his hand above his head, presumably gesturing to the sky, before lowering it to flap at Chakotay. "I don't blame you for the attempt to hide, and, you know, it's probably better — easier — if it takes more than a glance and a thought to realize you're that guy."
Chakotay fingered his cranial ridges without really meaning to, feeling rather foolish for having thought he'd done a good job. The past week spun in his head — the places he'd gone, the people he'd encountered. Had anyone else recognized him?
Did it matter?
"Who are you, and what do you want?"
He spoke more angrily than he meant to — a reaction, he supposed, to feeling like an idiot.
The man seemed unaffected. "Karath T'mal," he said, tilting his head as if tipping a hat. "Purveyor of fine desirables and rare effects."
One question answered, and now Chakotay could probably guess at the other, and it was something for which he didn't have the patience.
"I've no need for fine desirables, or whatever you call them. I'm just here looking for a friend."
"Right. The same one, I assume?" He paused for a beat, eyebrows raised. "Yes, I'm sorry that you didn't find her." And then, in case there was any doubt as to who had the better hand, he pointed over to the bar. "She was sitting right there when I saw her on that day, having a great time from what I could tell."
Chakotay's heart leapt against his chest with a wild, rousing thump.
"You…you were here when…" (Fold.) "You saw her?"
"Lovely woman," he said, nodding. "I bought her a drink, she said she was waiting for someone. Told me she was in the field of exploration and research, when I asked."
"You…talked to her?"
"Don't look so surprised. A lot of people talked to her. Woman like that has a real presence, you know? Draws people in." He studied Chakotay's face. "You the one she was waiting for?"
Reluctantly — sadly — Chakotay nodded.
"And how long've you loved her?"
Chakotay balked and picked up his drink, held it protectively in front of his face. "What do you care?"
That smile again. "Oh, I don't care as such, really. It's just — like I said — I'm an astute observer of people. Pride myself on figuring them out. Not that you're that hard — I mean, why else are you back here after your ship took off, looking like you've been through the ringer and then some?"
Not eager to share the details, nor feeling particularly trusting at the moment, Chakotay closed a fist around the back-up story he'd invented while on the shuttle. "They got rid of me. Not mutiny, quite, but they didn't like the way I was running things, so I was ousted."
T'mal's loud chuckle turned a couple of heads nearby. "Can't say I'm surprised….no offense." Chakotay watched as the man swirled what remained of his drink and then finished it off. "So how'd you get back here? Come on another one of your ships?" A beat, glass back onto the table with a clink. Business again.
"I hitched a ride." Not a complete lie.
Resting his chin on a fist, Karath T'mal regarded Chakotay, who didn't flinch under the scrutinizing gaze, despite his discomfort.
After a moment, T'mal sat back up and sighed — but it wasn't a sigh of irritation.
"You know, I'll cut right to it. I like you. You were entertaining there for a while — well, when you weren't trying to kill us all." He snickered in lieu of laughing, but so much had Chakotay been expecting the deep cackling, he heard it in his head, anyway. "Really, I respect your drive. And I know what I would do for the love of my life. All of that and more."
Chakotay almost interrupted, almost said she's just a friend, but what was the point of holding to that old habit of denial? Ignoring the other subject T'mal was no-doubt driving at, Chakotay glared at him intensely, unwilling to cede any ground. "So you saw her, you talked to her. Who took her?"
"That I cannot answer, but I have resources. Avenues that weren't available to you and your lot. I might be able to help you find out… First, though, I must say, it was quite a display, after the quake. You and your soldiers, really brave. And your technology. Impressive."
Chakotay sighed, having known from his introduction that this was what the man was about; it soured his mood even further.
"Like I said, I hitched a ride. They left me at a spaceport." Implied: he hadn't a ship; left open: he might have desirable technology in his possession, just the same.
T'mal, astute observer of people, wrinkled his brow, his face darkened by what was perhaps just a hint of disappointment, but he also didn't miss the noncommittal nature of Chakotay's response.
Watching T'mal's face, Chakotay warmed up to the game a little bit. "What was it you were interested in, anyway?"
Truth be told, Chakotay would happily hand over the whole damn shuttlecraft — currently tucked way in a neighboring planetary system — if it meant getting Kathryn back.
"I don't know what it's called, but you used it to move people out from under the rubble. It was quite amazing. Magic, to some eyes."
"The transporters."
"Okay, yeah. The transporters. I've got some very high-profile clients who would give numerous internal organs for that kind of tech. But you people seem to be the only ones who have it, or know about it."
"Plenty of people have it where I'm from," Chakotay said, picking up his cards, shuffling them around. "And I might be able to help you get ahold of it. But I'm going to be honest, I don't give two fucks what clients want what, or what kind of financial gains you might offer up in the end. I'm not here for any of that, and frankly, I hate this place. You're disorganized, reckless, loose with your laws, and either unfortunate or just plain stupid with your choice of elected leadership. I'm here for one reason and one reason alone, and I will not hesitate to participate in your lawlessness, should you or anyone else see fit to jerk me around. I'm done being jerked around."
His right hand had clenched into a raised fist; he sighed and loosened it, allowed the anger to dissipate (it came so easily, still). "I…just want my captain back." He hadn't necessarily meant to say the last part out loud, but T'mal's expression shifted from one of mild concern to one of sympathy as he did.
"I know. I mean, good to know about the money, officially — it moves most men, and even though I didn't really think it would play here, it's good to know for sure. As for the rest of it — well, it's like I said. I could have told you the rest of your story, just based on the way you were sitting here, alone with your drink."
It was Chakotay's turn to laugh, though it was brief and didn't turn any heads.
"And you know," T'mal said as he gestured for the waiter. "I'm a sucker for a great love story."
Not exactly a love story, Chakotay thought, but he didn't bother correcting him.
T'mal ordered another drink and then they sat silent for a moment, the clack of colliding pool balls (or whatever they were called here, in the similar-looking game) offering bits of punctuation to his thoughts as Chakotay considered how to play this. In truth, he'd no intention of simply handing over the shuttle's transporter. If it meant something definitive about Kathryn…finding her, or…
It would have to be a last resort.
Could he make some headway with bits and pieces of the schematics?
It was going to be tricky to navigate, but that's why he was here, right?
One step at a time.
"Let's start with that night, when you encountered my captain. I want to know everything."