Disclaimer: See chapter one. They're not mine.
Chapter Rating: T
Note: In case anyone still wants/is able to follow. Personally, I've had to go back and reread much of it, so I understand if it's been too long for most to keep up/follow any longer. I've about eight more chapters of this blocked out before it will be done, but having finished four other projects and gotten them off my plate in the meantime, this is/will be the sole focus of my efforts until it's finished. That's my New Year's resolution, in fact: no new projects, not until this one is done. Don't believe me? Not sure I do, either. It's true, though. :P
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Part I
Having completed preparations to attend the fifth banquet in as many days, Kathryn stood in front of the full-length mirror, making a final inspection of her appearance, something she'd noticed herself paying more attention to this past week than she had in all the years she'd been aboard Voyager combined.
She hated the outfit, but then…she had hated them all. She'd outright refused the early models; they'd been a modified version of the military-style animal hides, and she could no longer stomach the scent of those – not that it had been easy to begin with.
The dress she wore for tonight's gathering was still far too ornate for her tastes. The deep crimson of the gown – and it was a gown more than a dress – was uncomfortably scratchy material but flattering to her skin tone, which she knew was intentional. Her skin hadn't yet returned to its normal, healthy pallor, and the chancellor had obviously taken this into account when he…or his servants, she'd no idea which…chose the colors of her gowns. A metal bodice of sorts, intricately woven into a fine latticework pattern, fit snugly over the gown. A fierce-looking ornamental dagger, supposedly a symbol of her character, rested at her side, its jeweled handle peeking out from the leather holster secured to the chain-belt about her waist, giving her a sinister appearance despite the feminine make of the gown. The jewelry, heavy and flowing, hung from her neck and wrists, aiding in the concealment of scars leftover from her encounter with the general.
The dress also leant the appearance of Janeway being much taller than she was. Long sleeved and sporting a hem that reached the floor, the gown covered most of her, a low neckline revealing the only generous expanse of skin that would be displayed. The whitened scars peeking up over the less-than-modest neckline (under the jewelry), apparently weren't a concern. Per the chancellor's relayed instructions, Shasta had applied a liberal cosmetic powder to the captain's skin (everywhere that it could be seen). The powder was chalky and heavy, doing a great deal to mask the appearance of the scars, making them almost look like the creases typical in leathery Jehnz-yin flesh instead of broken human skin. Another powder, this one lighter and iridescent gold, had been brushed through her hair, making it shine almost obscenely – to give the impression of glowing, she supposed with distaste. Her face was also heavily painted, her brows accentuated to make them look more angular, her eyelids shadowed and her lips darkened to give her more of what the Jehnz-yin would consider the appearance of health and vitality. To human standards, Janeway thought she looked like the living dead – an expression she knew she would feel keenly by the end of the unbelievably taxing evening.
The events had grown more and more draining, and being seated next to Chancellor Gerros the entire time, engaging in a grand show of friendship, even close companionship with the chancellor took most of her strength each night. Chakotay was in the room for the banquets, but he appeared as a servant and sat well at the end of the huge, narrow high table. He could see her, but only if he physically stood and peered around the long line of Jehnz-yin officials between them, something that was strongly discouraged. He was expected to sit mutely, to answer any questions posed to him by Xi's aides, and to stay put and not attract any attention otherwise. He had at least reported that one aide, the chancellor's personal aide, had seemed to be growing a tolerance for his company, if not a fondness for it.
For her part, Kathryn would sit at the center of the table, the actual living centerpiece of an elaborate display showcased before a grand hall of gaping viewers. She would endure the unnervingly close attention of the chancellor and his apparently growing admiration, the increasingly snide jibes of the few officials who knew of the deception being played out for the Jehnz-yin people, and the gawking stares of hundreds of guests to the royal halls. She would mouth the short speech she'd memorized while a recording made by a Jehnz-yin woman, who possessed the dual vocal chords to pronounce Jehnz-yin words properly, played from hidden panels on the table just below her. And she'd do her best not to notice the huge screen behind her playing silent scenes of the experience she wanted only to forget for the benefit of the crowds in front of her.
The heavy, matching cape that draped over her shoulders trailed all the way to the floor, and the effect of the whole getup was to weigh her down considerably. Walking in the outfits was even more of a struggle for her. She still had a pronounced limp, one that would probably never leave her now, but they only allowed her to walk to the banquet halls, anyway. From there, she was brought into the room and helped to sit behind the secrecy of screens or curtains, which were then pulled back to reveal her to the waiting and admiring crowds seated in the hall. She remained seated until well after the hall had been cleared, sometimes hours and hours after her initial arrival, so that no one would witness the trouble she had rising or walking.
As she stared at herself, more than slightly appalled, Kathryn caught Chakotay's approach, his reflection appearing behind hers in the mirror. In his hand, she spotted the remnants of one of the few pastries his system seemed able to handle out of a dozen different kinds that were delivered to their room on a daily basis, and her face drew into a grimace of sympathy. His choices were so limited here. Neither of their bodies took well to Jehnz-yin cuisine. Most of it made them horribly nauseous, though Chakotay seemed to have the worst of the trouble. Apart from the heavy, noxious spices in much of it, they weren't entirely certain they knew the underlying cause of their systems' rejection of the alien food. But if she had to guess, she'd say that the fact that most of it seemed meat-based, in one form or another, was part of what gave Chakotay his narrow range of edible options. His system simply wasn't used to so much meat – and particularly not to non-replicated meats or to the Jehnz-yin, alien variety of it. And the food at the feasts was typically even richer and less palatable, so they both tried to fill up before attending on the lighter fare that was sent to them each morning.
He held out the last bit of the green-stuffed pastry to her, one of the few that they'd identified as being completely without any animal byproducts, but she demurred, wrinkling her nose. Though they had a pleasant, minty aftertaste, while consuming them, those particular pastries tasted like grass and hay. But he didn't seem to mind them, so she was more than content to let him have all of them. As he popped the last bite into his mouth, his eyes slid over her, and she stood still while he appraised the culmination of over an hour's worth of work with a critical eye.
"I'd ask how I look," she noted dryly, "but I already know what a shamelessly wonderful liar you are when it comes to preserving a woman's vanity."
A small, sheepish grin flashed briefly at her in the mirror.
"While we're on the subject," she teased, "just whom does a captain thank for such a necessary trait in a first officer? Did you get that from your father?"
Chakotay glanced down at the floor, another smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Actually, no. But he was partially responsible. My father's position in our tribe often took him away from home for days at a time."
"And?"
"And…let's just say there are some things a young boy learns very quickly when left to fend for himself in a house full of women."
He smiled to hear her chuckle lightheartedly, but the smile was lost as he took her in from head to toe, and as his eyes rose, she was taken aback to see the way they'd darkened unmistakably by the time they met hers. Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his stare this time.
"Well?" she ventured breathlessly, hardly daring to look away, even to blink. "What do you think?"
"Thought you weren't going to ask," he reminded her, ignoring her raised eyebrow. "But I'll be happy to tell you what I really think. If you're sure you can withstand the brutal honesty."
It was a definite challenge, delivered with perhaps more boldness than he'd ever displayed before, particularly when coupled with that unmasked, hungry and distinctly male look in his eye, but he'd left his typical "out" for her, as always.
Even when pushing the boundaries of lines that no longer technically existed under the circumstances, he was careful not to push her. Careful not to back her into a corner or to ask more of her than she was able, or willing, to give. The voice, the experience that had been gradually returning to her in her dreams the past few nights flickered in the back of her mind, and through the eye contact that never wavered with the man behind her, she heard the voice in the back of her mind: don't be a coward, Captain.
"Tell me," she insisted. Meeting the challenge with strength of voice she didn't necessarily feel while her insides fluttered in a long-forgotten thrill of anticipation. "And none of your usual 'tact', either. The truth," she counterchallenged, one hand finding her hip as her chin tilted up at him in the mirror.
"All right. But you asked." There was a twinkle in his eyes now, dispelling some of the tension as he made a show of circling her. "Firstly, you're far too thin again. That's a shame, because I'd just finally been succeeding in getting some substance to you." She gave him a half mock glare for his audacity, but her heart wasn't really in the rebuke while watching his gaze move over her as he intently assessed each aspect of her appearance. "The make-up doesn't suit you at all. It hides too much of your natural skin tone. Which is the point, I know. But I prefer you the way you are. Not hidden under layers of powder. The dress…" he shook his head, lips pursed as though in disapproval, "isn't you, either. It would be a wonderful color…with your skin. With your hair and eyes. But it's too much. It tries to distract attention away from you, though it doesn't quite succeed. Nothing could do that." He continued his brutal inspection, a hand rubbing across his chin as if deep in thought now. Completely lost in his appraisal, he didn't see the way her eyes darkened at the compliment hidden under the critique. "I will admit…the cut of it is perfect for you." Making his way behind her, carefully, excruciatingly slowly, he stopped there and leant his head down until his mouth was close to her ear, his tone dropping considerably. "And let's just say that while I'm appreciative of that neckline for obvious reasons, it's because I know everyone else at that table will be, too, that I have to go with hating the entire outfit, overall."
She wanted to make a joke about a physiologically different alien culture being the only place she'd ever expect to be appreciated for that particular asset, but the thought got lost in the dark pools of his eyes, again holding her gaze in the mirror.
"Is that all?" she managed to ask. Amazed that he could look at her…like that…at all, given the conditions and situations he'd seen her in over the past weeks.
"No," he replied, tucking back a lock of hair spilling over her face without noticing. He did that often now, watched for it to fall even a centimeter out of place, as if trying to make up for all the years he'd wanted to and hadn't dared. And as used to his touch as she had become recently, she had to admit she wasn't exactly lamenting not having the usual tools to keep her hair in place for the same reason.
"I'm just thankful to be able to see you standing here, alive, in front of me. And no matter what hideous color they paint your lips, the best thing I see in any given day," he waited for her answering grin to appear, "is that. But I haven't seen it often enough lately. I was afraid I might never see it again."
A spark rippled through her, one of remorse for the things he'd suffered as a result of her choices recently, but he didn't allow her time to wallow in it; he rarely ever did. His hands had come around her, lightly resting on her shoulders, and she turned slightly in his grasp to look up at him, a feat not easily managed with her recovering body…
From his personal chambers, Gerros adjusted the cuffs of his resplendent ceremonial robes with more vigor than necessary as he watched the two humans join mouths for the first time since they'd been brought to Ghanza Prime. Chakotay had left the bathroom door open behind him, lending the chancellor an excellent view of everything that took place within the smaller room from the monitor that had been innocuously placed over the door of their bedroom. As he peered into the viewer behind his desk, he heard the cuff rip under his less-than-tender ministrations, and a growl reverberated in his throat. The robes he wore were his finest, the best in an opulent collection, and now, he would have to settle for changing into something less resplendent. As the commander's hands moved to frame Kathryn's face, another growl rumbled up within the fuming alien leader, and he punched the button to deactivate the viewer.
He was furious. His instincts had been correct regarding the connection between the humans, despite Janeway's repeated insistence that they were nothing more than colleagues with a close friendship. He'd believed her because he had wanted to, and yet she had deceived him. The two slept in the same bed, true, but it was huge, and they did not sleep curled together. He'd thought that boundary rigidly enforced. At first. Those boundaries had been slipping away more every day. This morning, he'd switched on the viewer to find her head resting across the other human's outstretched arm, and he had chalked it up to shifting sleeping positions. But now, another line had been crossed, right under his nose, in the very rooms he had so generously provided for her comfort.
After all he'd done. All he'd risked, making her the beloved icon, the love of the people… It was a slap in the face. He'd thought (obviously mistakenly) that Janeway knew where her future lay, and it was not with the man whose embrace she was standing so shamelessly within now.
He didn't know when the shift had occurred for him, but it had. Originally, he had simply admired her intelligence. Janeway had kept not only her ship and crew from the military's grasp but also withheld the location and nature of the rift. Best of all, she had defied the general…and lived to tell of it. His father was gone, no longer a threat. Gerros had come out of the whole sordid enterprise without so much as a scratch to his political reputation. And she was helping him to convince the people that full-scale genocide could no longer be the focus of their identity. He had a chance to begin to promote the grandness of using the Oncaveat to strengthen the weakening Jehnz-yin bloodlines, ensuring the future of his magnificent people...and potentially, of course, the ability to one day open a rift to those lush planes the Unani denied his people access to. Of course he had appreciated Janeway for all of those reasons. And so he hadn't noticed the change in his admiration, at first.
He found he understood her, that they had common ground in the suffering his father had inflicted upon them both. She, like him before her, had nearly been broken down under Garan's abject cruelty, had come to him wounded, not just physically but mentally. However, unlike most of the general's victims, political or otherwise, Janeway refused to stay that way. She, like Gerros, would not concede ultimate defeat to his father. Something in her very nature would not allow it.
Observing her on the monitor while she pushed herself to recovery ahead of schedule, and without the pain medications his physicians had pressed on her at his request, had annoyed and intrigued him. Spending time in her company, getting to know the deviousness of her mind, the strength of will she possessed by the way she pushed for concessions from him while she wrangled tours of the palace and grounds without him noticing until after the agreement had been made…all of it had made him genuinely like her. Watching the crowds react to her this past week, seeing them come alive with obvious adoration for the figure they were being led to believe would be their ultimate savior, he had perhaps begun to come under a bit of his own spell. He found his eyes drawn to her when she was in the room, found himself taking more time away from the running of the empire, content to sit at the monitor for increasing periods of time simply to watch her during the day. To him, Janeway was a fascinating creature, one that grew more compelling as she returned to a state of relative health.
His advisors noticed his growing admiration. And those who knew the truth of the woman's lowly origins were appalled. In the back of his mind, he noted their poorly concealed disdain, and he didn't care in the slightest. Let them growl, he thought to himself absently. His plan was already beginning to have real results; she was winning over the people with her performances (with the help of the tale he spun around the events of her arrival). Over the course of the past week especially, due to his nightly events and the careful message he'd crafted for her to read, nearly twenty-five hundred Oncaveat slaves had been surrendered to the government from prominent Jehnz-yin households. Soon, they would be collected and brought to the facility he'd engineered years ago, when his dream had first been conceived to use the Oncaveat to secure the future of his own people. Once the unsuitable were sorted out, he'd need three times that amount, he estimated, to set his plans in motion. And then he would select the next message for Janeway's performances, calling an official halt to the military campaign against those remaining few Oncaveat not yet enslaved. He needed what was left of them, also…all that he could find alive.
He hadn't trusted Janeway's reaction to his plan. Though she routinely asked him about his ultimate goal, seeming to sense he had one in mind, he had yet to tell her what it was. She'd been easy to put off, fortunately, for he hadn't been ready to tell her. In truth, he'd yet to tell anyone the complete plan, but he wasn't answerable to anyone, was he?
He'd spent a great deal of time attempting to show her that he was not his father. That he appreciated her military prowess and her quick wit. That he was not incensed by her occasional demonstrations of spirit… She still had yet to fully accept his complete separation of identity from his father. He saw it in the uncharacteristic hesitation she demonstrated in his presence. Without the first officer next to her, she was slower to contradict him, more likely to defer to his decision making…and only because she found it difficult to stomach his presence, he knew, when she had images and thoughts of his father flashing back to her due to their close physical resemblance.
He couldn't say why that bothered him so much, really, except that Gerros had always hated being confused with Garan. The chancellor was far more intelligent, less gratuitously aggressive, and certainly less loathsome. The two were not even in the same category as far as he was concerned. And yet he'd lived much of his life under the shadow of his brutish, domineering father. He'd been elected partially as a testament to the people's love for his father, a fact that Garan had never let him forget while he lived. Even though it was Gerros who held the record for most successful raids on remaining Oncaveat settlements, Garan continued to hold the top card of notoriety, valued for his ruthless efficiency in purging those Oncaveat his troupes collected.
But Gerros was so much more. And soon, he would prove that to everyone, once and for all, and Janeway was the key to that, also.
It would not be done if she allied with her first officer in this manner.
It really was a most unfortunate development, for many reasons. Gerros had come to accept the unfortunate, unanticipated truth that she would upstage him in any public arena in which he placed her. The role he'd painted for her as semi-goddess had seen to that. When he appeared at her side, he was viewed merely as her host, unattached to her in the public's eye and largely ignored whenever she was in the room, despite the gestures of friendship he'd persuaded her to participate in for the crowds. He'd already come to the conclusion that to properly benefit from her image, he needed to tie himself to her more obviously.
But she was still reluctant to stomach his presence, let alone his personal attentions. He couldn't even compliment her appearance without seeing her discomfort at his scrutiny. And as she had angered him with this specific continued reluctance, and most especially with this latest defiance, he decided that, one last time, he might just be forced to use his father's image to help further his own agenda. He would use that one weakness against her, for she would come around to his way of thinking, whether she liked the prospect or not.
Having made it, Gerros was satisfied with this new conclusion regarding Janeway; he always felt better after coming to some sort of a decision, whether it was his preferred resolution or not.
Now he had one more decision to make…well…two, as Shasta Accor was still alive and still being shielded within Janeway's chambers at the human's insistence. But he was far more concerned for the human male at the moment than he was with the woman who had given himself, the Jehnz-yin chancellor, life well over thirty cycles ago. The male stood in the way of the chancellor's immediate plans, while the Oncaveat woman was merely an uncomfortable annoyance. He would deal with her later, once he had Janeway more firmly in hand.
So…what to do with the human called Chakotay? Calmer now that the offending image no longer displayed on the screen, the chancellor weighed his options, but he'd already decided, in his heart of hearts. Allowing him to linger by her side had been a mistake. The man had just become more trouble than he was worth, in Xi's estimation. It was time to remove the commander from the picture entirely.
But it would have to be done in a way that brought no suspicion upon himself, or he'd risk stoking Janeway's resistance rather than binding her closer to him. Fortunately, in politics, subtle intrigues were always present. Gerros was quite used to making problems disappear and under innocuous-looking circumstances. It took him hardly any reflection at all to come up with a satisfying solution. A small smile pulled at the corners of his wide, thin lips.
He summoned his aide.
Part II
He'd never kept her waiting before.
Doctor Nyra Benn waited in the chancellor's reception chambers for the chancellor to free up the time to be able to see her. And waited. And waited. And…
She was livid. Yesterday, he'd seen her immediately. Of course yesterday, her visit was to update him on Janeway's physical progress. Needlessly, to the physician's way of thinking. There'd been nothing new to report and wouldn't be, not for months, if ever. The woman had a limp. She would always have it. The scars, too. She didn't take particularly well to Jehnz-yin food; most species didn't. The culprit was a particularly complex protein sequence unique to the farm-raised animals of Ghanza Prime, like those raised on the chancellor's estates and other government institutions. It was in most foods here, and unless the woman learned to avoid those foods, her stomach would be queasy. Nyra didn't see any particular reason to provide the humans with a list of all the foods that contained the protein: she had more important things to do. At any rate, it was hardly cause for anyone's concern, let alone worth the attention of the single most powerful man in the Jehnz-yin Empire. Yet all of this mundane, monotonous detail, Gerros seemed to have hours to devote to discussing.
Today, she simply wanted to speak with him. She missed him. In the two months since Janeway had been with them, they'd not had a single opportunity to speak in anything other than an official capacity. She was still burning over the reprimand he'd given her in front of the aliens, yet knowing his distaste for mixing business with pleasure, she'd not brought up the subject.
She would today. It had been insulting, shocking even. He'd never spoken to his personal physician with anything like that level of disrespect before. She'd heard him speak to others like that, including her brother and, once or twice, her father. But never had Gerros spoken to her that way. In fact, Nyra had been the chancellor's favorite companion before…
Janeway. Her lip curled in disgust at the thought of the frail woman who would be the honor of yet another state banquet this evening. If she didn't know it would get her killed, the doctor would seriously have considered "accidentally" spiking some of the enzyme supplements they were still using to promote the woman's slowly-healing liver with something…unpleasant. Preferably with something unpleasantly fatal.
Nyra had been reluctant to admit it to herself at first, but she'd see the signs from the moment Gerros had called her into his rooms two months ago and stressed the importance of the woman's survival. She'd seen that look in his eye as his gaze had fallen on the frozen image of the human woman. She'd known then, if she was truly honest. She just hadn't wanted to believe…
She loathed the captain with every molecule of her being, had from the moment the woman had arrived, hardly stabilized by the inferior doctors he'd sent to see to her on the accursed guard ship that had carried her here. She'd been in horrible shape. It was thanks to Nyra that the woman was alive at all. At least at first, Gerros been duly grateful.
That gratitude had certainly disappeared. He seemed to have forgotten Nyra the woman's existence, seemed to have time and interest for only her professional characteristics. And that was unacceptable, for so many reasons, not least of which was that he'd given his pledge to make her his life mate over a year ago. He had done this before with many women he'd soon lost interest in, true. But never before had any one woman held his attention as long as Nyra had. Even her father, who rarely bothered with his half-breed if accomplished daughter, had taken notice of the fact and congratulated her on her cunning capture of the elusive chancellor's affections. There had been no official announcement yet, but it was common knowledge that the chancellor felt much more for his personal physician than simple professional admiration. Though Nyra was proud and beautiful and intelligent as the others had been before her, she had the one edge the others had been lacking: she and Gerros were friends, true companions. They'd known each other since they'd been children, after all; her father was the late General Xi's successor. She and Gerros had grown up together, and she knew him better than he knew himself.
She glanced at the magnificent time piece adorning the far wall of the waiting room. She'd been told by the chancellor's secretary that he'd see her shortly. That was three hours ago. Her brother had arrived, obviously summoned in the middle of preparation for the upcoming banquet as he'd been half dressed and out of breath. He'd spared her a guarded, pitying glance as he'd rushed by her and into the chancellor's chambers. She hated it. It was another sign of that which she'd been fighting not to accept…
Her brother, too, was worried. The chancellor's focus had become increasingly fixated on the human woman he was using to rally the people behind his never-ceasing efforts to further his strange cause. He was watching her often now, and that was another horrid sign. Nyra remembered that, not long ago, it had been she that Gerros had watched for hours at a time while she worked in the resplendent office he'd provided her with upon retaining her services. She wasn't supposed to know it, of course, but her brother had told her in a burst of excitement the day the imager had been installed in her office. Of course he'd been excited, Nyra thought with some bitterness now. If his sister became the chancellor's mate, Ellizas Benn would be able to rise above the respected position of personal aide to something even greater.
She'd expected to become the most powerful woman in the Jehnz-yin Empire. In part, she already was. She was privy to the chancellor's counsel, but more importantly, to her father's, now that he saw his daughter as a means of personal advancement, of course. And her father was Xi's successor. Though he hadn't been second in command, he was the highest ranking survivor of the human woman's devastating attack on Osalik. As a result, Nyra had access to information that no other would have, save her brother, and generally, she imparted information either way to her own benefit. She skillfully played all three men off each other and had from the beginning, from even before her father's rise to power within the devastated miltary. In part, it was what had allowed her to capture and keep Gerros's attention: he admired intelligence in a companion. He just had that unmistakably common male trait of underestimating hers because she was a woman. It had only enabled her to insinuate herself closer to him without his even guessing at her motives most times.
She did love him. Strange as he was, unorthodox as he was known for being, she couldn't help but love him, faults and all – and he had many faults, his fondness for (and temporary blindness to the less admirable traits of) women among them…
The doors opened again, revealing her brother. He approached the secretary's desk at the far end of the hall. Nyra kept her eyes downcast as though focused on something else, but she watched attentively as the two men discussed something in hushed tones. A moment later, the young serving girl who attended to the humans appeared and was escorted to the chancellor's doors. In shock, the physician watched as the doors opened once more and Gerros let the girl in personally. As he did so, his eyes swept the hall and unmistakably landed on Nyra sitting in the hall.
He averted his eyes and shut the door without a word. She felt the resounding clicks of the automatic bolts securing the door like stakes being driven into her hearts.
"He said to tell you he apologizes for not being able to see you today and that he'll make time for you later on, when his schedule isn't so full."
It was the final blow, a last stake pounded through her wounded hearts. Nyra raised burning eyes to Ellizas, who had sidled up to her while her focus had been on the chancellor's brief emergence from his chambers. Her brother was startled at the level of venom he saw reflecting in her normally cool gray eyes.
"I need to speak with you. Alone," she added with a glance at the old gossip of a secretary seated not too far away from them, watching with keen interest the exchange between brother and sister.
Ellizas blanched. "I can't. The banquet is scheduled for–"
"Now."
He swallowed at the tone of his sister's voice, taken aback as that intense look in her eye redoubled. His junior by several cycles, he was generally amazed at the way "little" Nyra had always been the dominant one of all his siblings, including him. He might have been the only fully Jehn-yin offspring to be produced by his father, but Ellizas had long suspected that it was Nyra who had inherited the bulk of their father's domineering traits. "All right," he finally consented with a grimace and a harried look at the time piece on the far wall. "Follow me."
Nyra rose, casting a contemptuous glance at the disappointed-looking secretary as they marched past him to somewhere that they knew they would not be overheard, determination in her newly-decided-upon course of action giving purpose to her steps. She would bring her brother around in short order, and together, the two of them would solve this problem for the chancellor's own good, before he made even more of a fool out of himself – and Nyra – than he already had. The solution was simple, really, and Ellizas would be made to see that if he didn't already.
Janeway had to go.
