ChiefCochise2
The Chief Cochise

Part 2



The Chief Cochise could easily be described as a bucket of bull. Or perhaps even as a can of trash. Yet again, one might call it a heap of artistically arranged metal crap.

Whatever the preferred designation, one could not dispute that the ship had personality. And once inside, particularly after having accompanied the crew on a couple of missions, one would have to admit (reluctantly, albeit) that its looks were very deceptive.

In fact, the ship was highly efficient and very lethal when it had to be.

Commander Chakotay called it neither of the above-mentioned names. His first comment was: "But didn't I crash that on a Kazon ship at the Caretaker's array?". The flying junk yard looked so much like his old flagship that he almost went into instant nostalgic regression.

Myth, standing behind him, smiled.

"We all felt we were coming home when we saw the Chief the first time," he said, his voice almost getting wishful.

"And... where would your original home be, Myth?" Chakotay tried, not knowing squad about the lieutenant commander yet.

The being patted his back.

"Nice try, Sir. But patience. If you will come with me, the cap is about to tell you. That... and other secrets."

Myth led him through the narrow hallways of the Chief. The ship was for a crew complement of 100 and they were 95 (Rosie hadn't been there the night before).

Chakotay peeked curiously round corners, hoping that it wouldn't be long before he was taken the grand tour on this little pearl of a ship.

The door to the captain's ready room was open and Myth hardly bothered to knock before he entered with the commander.

"We're here, Cap," he announced. Mel didn't move, but simply barked 'out' to the few engineers who were still working with the last details of the overhaul.

Once they were alone, Myth sealed the door and sat down next to the commander without waiting for an invitation.

Mel Dayton was in her blue-grey captain's uniform with the obligatory four pips on the collar. Her hair had been tamed moderately, but her face was still completely devoid of make-up. Perhaps this woman simply did not use make-up, Chakotay decided. Not that he complained; he had always thought it easier to describe and read a woman's face if it was naked. This woman sat down informally, threw her long legs over her desk, winked at the surprised commander and said without preamble:

"I bet you have been bending over to find out who the heck Myth here is - or rather what he is, right?"

"I must admit to a certain degree of curiosity..." the commander relented. Mel grinned at his very Vulcan verbal expression. Then she nodded at Myth, who stood and bowed to Chakotay.

"I am a distant cousin to Odo from DS9. I have abandoned my family and species because I believe that what they do is wrong. I have pledged my life and service to this ship, its crew and its captain."

Being extremely busy picking up his jaw from his lap, Chakotay was entirely incapable of uttering a coherent and appropriate reply for quite some while. Finally he got a grip and stuttered:

"You... you're a shape-shifter???"

Myth bowed again.

"A very good one too." Mel grinned at her first officer.

"But you... my tricorder..."

The captain leaned forward and explained:

"On readings shape-shifters normally register as the species they are copying. However, out of courtesy - and to calm down certain jumpy persons - Myth has agreed not to utilise that specific ability when not on an op or mission. Instead, he makes sure that tricorders go bananas. More honest than suddenly making up fake readings of any kind."

"You must be invaluable on missions," Chakotay muttered, almost hypnotised by the stunning disclosure.

"He's invaluable, period," Mel corrected him, "you will learn when and how to seek advice from him and when and how to make use of his special skills."

Myth nodded, "I look forward to working with you, Commander," he said politely and sat down again.

"The next question that arose in your mind yesterday," Captain Dayton continued, "was how to keep track of this medley of aliens and their special skills and personalities, right?"

"Right." Chakotay admitted weakly.

"The answer is: you have to get to know them personally. Almost all of them. Sorry. I know it's quite a job to get to know 75 odd people - but it's necessary for the ship to function effectively. Crew matters will be your field of responsibility, as you very well know, and I only speak from experience. Get to know them. I know you were off to a good flying start last night."

Chakotay winced. He wondered how much she knew or had heard about that particular night. Mel rose and nodded to Myth.

"Have Myth take you on a tour. Meet Rosie - she's in her place already, bitching over the remaining maintenance staff messing up her circles. Take a look at Engineering and crawl around the engines the way Josh does (and I'm sure you have heard his nick by now), breathe the air of our Hydroponics bay and familiarise yourself with our special weapons. In other words: have fun."

Chakotay smiled and nodded. The shape-shifter took him by the elbow and lowered his voice conspiratorially:

"Let's get Rosie over with first. Then we can relax."

Chakotay followed this fascinating being, who seemed to regard the upcoming event with some awe and trepidation.

Another Neelix? the commander wondered as they walked down a particularly long aisle. No. Neelix may have irritated some, but he never instigated fear or excessive respect.

The big Native American got his answer as the two of them rounded the next corner, which led them into the small space craft's mess hall.

"Entering the lion's den?" he murmured foolishly.

"GET THE CRAP OUT OF HERE AND MIND YOUR BLEEDING LANGUAGE!"

The first officer, who had survived the Cardassian attack on his home world, a trying time among the Maquis, several painful years in the Deltan Quadrant and serving Kathryn Janeway, jumped at the powerful voice and found himself reduced to a mere school kid.

"Your mother" had the captain said. She hadn't been kidding.

Of all the beings he had encountered within the last couple of days - actually, in his entire life - this was the most awe-inspiring, intimidating, impressive, imposing, menacing and respect-inducing phenomenon.

Rosie turned out to be a two-meter-tall obese female human of supposedly Italian origin with the voice and glance to match her voluminous body. She hovered several inches over him with her fists on her hips, her legs spread and her broad, lower jaw protruding to make the similarity to a bulldog complete.

Chakotay was speechless. He couldn't tear away his eyes from her meaty face that appeared to be turning redder and redder, rapidly and relentlessly aiming for a ridiculously extreme shade of red.

The XO was afraid. He was very afraid.

As it was, the shape-shifter came to his rescue or the Chief Cochise would have been frighteningly close to losing its new first officer even before he had been broken in.

"Now, Rosie, there's no need to eat us raw. We just wanted our new XO to meet you."

Chakotay was fascinated to see that so much fat could actually turn with the face as she whipped her head to stare at him.

"Is he house-broken?"

No one answered.

"I ASKED: IS HE HOUSE-BROKEN???"

Chakotay turned his head to Myth in pure, undiluted and premordial angst.

"Why don't you answer her?" he asked, his voice low and trembling.

"She's asking you." Myth whispered back, unperturbed.

"But..."

"She always speaks to people in third person."

Chakotay painfully returned his attention to the even redder mother in front of him.

"Yes,Iamhousebroken." He said, warp-speed.

"He will answer when spoken to." Rosie growled.

"He will remember that." Myth helped him and bowed politely to her, "Now, Rosie, I take it the mess hall is closed for beverages."

Finally simmering down a bit Rosie answered in a tone almost normal.

"Yes! Those fucking maintenance cretini have been all over the place - turned it inside out."

Myth now allowed himself something that Chakotay was sure would have him annihilated in an instant. He said:

"Why, Rosie, how come they still alive?"

The Italian mama did something quite unexpected. She almost smiled. Almost. The sight scared Chakotay more than her roaring had.

"The night is young." She stated evilly.

Her homicidal laughter followed the two of them into the hall way.


*








Josh "The Ape" Abraham had just come down from a power conduit when he registered movement from the right warp computer control station. Wrinkling the brow the pycnic little man swung himself from console to console until he landed adroitly in front of the intruder.

A tall elegant Vulcan female looked up without the slightest trace of surprise at the monkey-man's equilibristic exercises.

"How may I help you, T'Rees?" he asked, winking at her and employing his most winning smile. The little plump man might have had some luck with a human female. T'Rees knew that he was considered to be quite charming among women in general.

However, being Vulcan - and knowing the Chief Engineer like the back of her hand, allowed her to limit her reaction to a raised eyebrow.

"I am in no need of assistance at this point..." she stated.

"Good!" Josh beamed, "Then you're off, I take it?"

T'Rees didn't utter a word and after a little while Josh sighed pitifully. He knew damn well why she was there.

"Listen, Doc - I'm fine. You really don't need to check me. I guarantee you..."

T'Rees permitted herself to smile inwardly. She had this banter with the engineer every time it was time for a medical check-up. The reason was obvious. Every time the Vulcan CMO would demand that he lose weight and cut down on the cigars, an ugly ancient Earth habit that the Ape seemed to have revived to some extent.

"Mr Abraham, it is very simple. So simple that even your nicotine- and unsaturated fat haunted brain should be able to comprehend the basics: either you come with me - now, or I ask the captain to be of assistance to me."

Josh blanched. If she wanted to bring out the big gun, he had lost already. He sighed dramatically for effect and protest, opened his mouth to consent... and was then saved by the proverbial gong.

"Mr Abraham..." Myth's polite voice rang like sweet relief from the entrance to Engineering. "I would like to..." he continued, but was cut short by Josh:

"Indeed, indeed. Dear man, why come in, come in. Oh? You have brought our new first officer. Splendid idea - marvellous, grand..."

His ranting continued as he - somewhat un-gently - hauled in the two visitors and started explaining the function of the engines to the new addition to the crew.

T'Rees watched him pull off another stunt to avoid the unavoidable in the dignified silence that was so characteristic of her people.

Her mouth twitched. If Vulcans smirked, this was it.

Enjoy your period of grace, human, she thought in a very un-Vulcan manner, I will get you eventually.

Chakotay was impressed. Not by the advanced technology that was virtually non-existent in the Chief Cochise's engineering section, but by the innovative use of bits and pieces from all over the quadrant. He would never have thought, for instance, that a Romulan electrical whip could be connected to a power relay and thus enhance the amps by 300 %. It was no less than brilliant. An instrument of pain and torture finally be useful for non-violent purposes.

The small, round man swung himself up on a console from which he could reach a generator that was hooked into the warp core.

"This old-fashioned Altharian generator," the Ape beamed, "has been modified to transfer residual warp power waste to a back-up battery. We assimilate no less than two fully loaded coils per light year at warp 6."

"Coils? You use quaint coils??"

The Ape positively radiated warp energy himself.

"A stroke of genius, eh? Using coils as storage we still have the back-up power should the Chief's computer crash."

"There is something to be said for ancient solutions." Myth said, for once expanding his small, gentle smile to fit his entire approximation of a face.

The Ape swung himself down again, happy as a clam...

... until he landed in front of feet he recognised only too well.

Oh, oooh. The captain. T'Rees had summoned the big boss.

Mel Dayton turned to face Myth and her new XO.

"Gentlemen, this tour is over. You may now proceed to Sickbay," without warning she grabbed Josh's ear, "and take this absentee with you. He has an appointment with our CMO."

She presented a very bemused commander with Josh's ear as well as the rest of him.

"Commander, I make you personally responsible for this ear and its owner. Make sure both of them reach Sickbay and report to Lieutenant T'Rees."

Chakotay took the ear and what was in its wake delicately from Mel's hand.

"Acknowledged, Ma'am. I shall guard them with my life."

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. Good. He fell into the tone easily.

Sickbay looked exactly like Commander Chakotay had expected it would, being led and supervised by a Vulcan.

The room was completely clean, everything appeared to be in its place, the instruments hummed the way they were supposed to, and even the one patient present lay straight without a fold on the blanket.

T'Rees came out looking as neat as her surroundings. She was rather stunning looking with thick jet black hair, coiled in a tight braid that formed a beautiful pattern on her head. Her slightly slanted eyes were green like a cat's, her ears particularly pointed and her skin almost as dark as his.

Female Vulcans can be so beautiful, but they don't radiate the warmth to match it, the commander thought with some regret.

However, it was a clear and common mistake that they didn't have humour. The tall Vulcan approached the threesome and deadpanned a 'thank you', carefully taking the ear and whatever was attached to it in her own hand and led it all to the nearest biobed.

There she restrained the reluctant patient, ignoring his protests and threats, and returned to her two other guests, prepared to accomodate any question they may have.


*






The captain of the Chief Cochise had barely reached her ready room before a message from the space station was beeping on her console. She punched it open, knowing well who it would be.

"You got it?" she asked the jovial bear face that appeared on her screen. The face smiled at her and her inappropriate intro to the call.

"Transferring file... now."

"Decryption?"

"Modification B5."

"Transfer complete."

"So how's he shaping up?"

"Promising."

"Promising, promising. Is that the only verdict you can dig up these days."

"It's more than you are used to. Take it or leave it."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled the bear, "incidentally. The station has received a message from your mother. You want it?"

"Certainly. Standing by."

"Forwarding."

"Receiving."

Then suddenly she cracked open in a relaxed grin.

"Have you noticed how much we sound like computers every time we're on the air?"

"Old habits die slowly."

"You can say that again."

"Well, I'll leave you with your mail. Get back to me when you are ready to rock 'n roll."

He had the pleasure of seeing Mel's well-shaped eyebrows make it to the edge of her hair.

"Rock 'n roll?"

"An ancient expression - check out the history of music, Mel."

"Not my territory, Bob."

"I know. I'll leave you with your poetry, then. Bye."

Mel concentrated on the family message first. Her mother knew that she was the commanding officer of some space craft that was supposed to be hush-hush, though not completely covert, which is why her messages always were sent through the nearest space station. Yet, as a good mother, she also knew when her offspring was about to enter a perilous situation.

Mel's heart ached a bit as she watched that sweet, familiar face shimmer into existence on the screen. Her mother looked like herself. Perhaps her hair was a bit whiter, perhaps she had a wrinkle or two more since the last time they had communicated, but that was all. Lizzie Sewall still had those piercing porcelain blue eyes and that delicately white and rosy complexion that were so beloved in Mel's eyes. People who saw them together may have wondered how mother and daughter could be so infinitely different... until they saw her father. Dr Jonathan Dayton was just as dark where Lizzie was fair. His bloodline was connected to Turks, Italians and Europeans with the Turk and Italian genome clearly dominant.

Mel knew she was a perfect mix of her heritage. Her father's dark, dark eyes had never conquered her maternal Nordic branch's water blue eyes completely and the result was a peculiar amber shade, which she didn't care for much herself. Her skin's honey colour had also been created by nature's way of mixing the palette at hand, and her hair, though dark, was nothing near her father's deeply dark brown burr.

"Hello, honey." Her mother's melodious voice seemed to caress her mind, - just what the doctor ordered "I hope you're well and keeping an eye on yourself and not just others... hmmm?"

"I am, Mom, I am." Mel whispered to the image.

"I haven't heard from your dad for quite some while, but I imagine he is well. He knows how to take care of himself, so I take it that you look more like me in that respect." Her tone had become awfully wry. Mel smirked. Not only did her mother know her frighteningly well - she also knew herself to the letter.

"Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I think of you and every day prey that you may live long enough to grant me some grandchildren [Mel sighed, though still smiling]. Aren't there any nice young men aboard your ship who might interest you?"

Mel winced.

The message ended with the usual edict to wear warmer clothes and remember to clean her teeth before her mother winked at her and bid her farewell.

The captain of the Chief Cochise turned off the monitor with a grin. Had mothers been the same always? She wondered. Did mothers of the 15th century say the same things to their children? And did they nag them about grandchildren to the same extent? Hardly, she decided, in those days women were birthing machines... few of their mothers had to worry about grandchildren.

Mel shook her head, the grin reduced to a gentle smile.

She would survive the next assignment like she had survived so many before it. And she would do it for her men and for her family.

And for the sheer spite of it.

The blueprints of the parliament on Sigma 5 were so comprehensive that Mel had to transfer the viewing to the big screen on the bridge. It was easily done since the bridge was completely empty of both ship's crew and maintenance, which meant that no security protocol was breached. Mel sighed a sigh that this time had nothing to do with her mother.

Sigmarian building construction turned out to be hopelessly complicated and... imaginative, and the extremists had been clever enough to put their hostage somewhere where her biochemical signals were untraceable ... or??? Or???


*






"I don't believe the senator is in the Parliament anymore."

Captain Mel Dayton stood in front of the all her CO's on an inactive bridge where only the big screen was on. The blueprints were glimmering clearly and were paradoxically sending a greenish sheen out into the room to envelope all the participants of the meeting.

"What makes you say that, Cap?" the big security chief asked. Chakotay hadn't so far talked much with the tall black man from Tanzania, a fact which made him intent on studying his fellow officer in his element.

"Information." Mel said, right to the point, "According to reliable sources the entire building is not shielded from EMP scanning, and nothing suggests that the extremists have the sources they need to generate a dampening field round the entire complex. These people are smart and good with improvisation - my guess is that instead of relying on technology, they have found a way to relocate the senator, leaving some of themselves to breathe life to the illusion that they are all still there."

"Simple and effective." Mallennie Millie stated. Myth nodded.

"That would make sense." He agreed, "They could have taken transportable dampeners with them to shield their escape from the parliament."

"Are there tunnels leading away from the building?" Chakotay spoke for the first time.

The captain indicated some faint lines on the blueprint.

"Here, here and here. They are allegedly ancient sewers from a time before warp technology."

"I still don't understand why an important building like that does not enjoy the safe haven of EMP dampening fields." The commander mused.

"The Sigmarians haven't invented it yet, and the Federation Prime Directive..." Mallennie informed him.

"I know all about the Prime Directive." Chakotay said a tad bitterly. To his surprise they all chuckled.

"I daresay you do," Mel grinned at him, "we all do, and we are all crippled by it. But there are ways round that. You'll see."

"Legitimate ways?"

"That too." Mel concurred and thus opted the entire bridge to roar with laughter. Chakotay looked round him in surprise. This really was quite different from what he was used to.

The meeting was temporarily interrupted by a heavily breathing Gul Betak, who was smothered with all sorts of dirt. Obviously he had just come from the drills that the rest of the crew was supposed to go through.

Chakotay felt himself stiffen by the sight of the Cardassian, still feeling the old antagonism against the species. And then he felt a couple of keen eyes probing him and turned his head to find Mel's disconcerting, amber eyes study him intently. She knew. And he knew she would bring it up at some point. There could be no disharmony between her CO's, they both knew that.

"You wanted me for some Astrometrics input, Cap?" the Cardassian huffed.

Gul Betak was surprisingly short for his species. His ridges ran gracefully along his neck and shoulders, but they seemed to make a stop when reaching his ears and then fade out as if they had lost speed in the attempt to reach the summit. His face, however, was typically Cardassian, slim with long lines and deeply set lizard eyes. Brown hair, not jet black, seemed glued to his skull from which it escaped down his neck and back only to be caught in a tight braid that reached his waist. His complexion was darker than Seska's had been when she had returned to her original genome, but then male Cardassians were darker than female in general.

Chakotay suppressed a grimace. This would take some getting used to.

"That's right, Betak. I have forwarded a star system to your station. I want you to determine where the hell that is and then come back to me ASAP."

Gul Betak grinned unexpectedly. The commander wasn't sure he liked the sight.

"Does that mean, I'm off the drill, Cap?"

Mel smiled dangerously.

"No, that means that you have to work harder to catch up with the others. In other words: the longer it takes you to locate that star system..."

"I get the drift." Betak said hastily and exited faster than the roadrunner.

Mel's eyes returned to her first officer just as Gul Betak left; eyes that promised, we talk later.

The meeting ended with a sketchy plan that consisted in a team going in via the ancient sewers, another team that would act as decoy, going into the Parliament itself and a third back-up team that was supposed to watch the first team's butt. The teams would be led by respectively Jonesy, Chakotay and Hildegard.

The commander was surprised for perhaps the umpeth time within the past three days. Only one bridge officer was going planet side, the others were squad leaders.

He carefully approached his captain with the issue afterwards.

"Yes? So?" Evidently she didn't quite get his comment.

"Is that not risky to leave those assignments to sergeants?"

"Of course not. It's what they are trained for." She held up a hand to stop the argument she predicted would come.

"I know how you people operate on a regular starship. But you have to understand that this starship and this crew handle situations that are more military than anything else Starfleet does. So: we operate with as few key officers out as possible and use the operations sergeants and their teams the way they should be used. We do the planning - they do the hero stuff. We usually work with one operational leader - a CO - present at the scene. And that's all."

"You are never in the field?" Chakotay asked her with unmasked amazement and ill-concealed relief.

"As little as humanly possible." Mel promised him, "And I usually keep Masomo aboard too. I have never understood the starship captains who insist on sending down their own security officer. Stupid."

Chakotay had to agree with her. The security chief's job was to protect the captain and the ship. Yet again and again he had seen how the very same person was assigned to away-missions.

Leaving his new captain's ready room, he let out a deep breath of profound relief.

For once he wouldn't have to fight an endless battle with his commanding officer about staying on the bridge.

It would be a new feeling for sure.


*






Fifty hours later the rest of the crew were done drilling. The results were not very much better than the first ones, but that didn't seem to bother Captain Dayton. She assured her somewhat concerned first officer that after one days sleep for these people, everything would 'fall into place' and the operation would go smoothly.

"You don't drill the upcoming operation?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Too much confidence."

"Sorry?"

"We are going into territory incognito. If we drill this in a set that is designed to look like the real thing, the men will be lulled into believing that this is what they will encounter. And both you and I know that nothing is ever what you expect. This crew is constantly trained in dealing with unexpected situations. This is what they know. Nothing's fixed, nothing's predetermined. Start drilling them like that, and they will lose the ability of always being watchful and adaptable."

"However," she continued before he got a chance to argue, "we will brief them of the basics and give them all the information we have available. You lay out the main lines of this and give them a wide birth to solve the problems presented to them themselves."

"What??" (another surprise), "You let them lay out their own plans?"

"Of course. They know what to do a helluva lot better than I do. The sergeants know their men and squads in and out. They know what weapons to employ, what equipment to bring. You just point the way and tell them their assignment and they'll do their job."

Things started making sense to Commander Chakotay. After so many years with a captain who wanted to stay on top of everything and lead everybody, he was beginning to see how this was much more like a field army. Or rather: a hybrid. A fleet captain sending out her field army troops, relying on their expertise, trusting their sense of judgement.

"And, Commander," she said, her tone becoming a degree more serious. Chakotay knew then what was coming. She stopped and turned to face him, both their faces being somewhat dim in the sparse illumination of the corridor.

"Do I have any cause to be concerned about the relationship between you and Gul Betak?"

He must have rehearsed his answer to the question he knew would come a hundred times. And yet, now that the moment had come, he felt himself stiffen and grow taciturn, unable to formulate his carefully prepared reply. The silence was revealing.

"I see," she sighed, and he keenly felt that he was letting her down. It hurt.

"Well, resolve it."

And with that clear order she turned and proceeded down the corridor without him.

Chakotay suddenly felt very, very alone.

The next day the Chief Cochise scuffled away from the station and set its course for Sigma 5 with a little detour.

Gul Betak had managed to identify and locate the star system, Mel Dayton had requested, and ever since Chakotay had been wondering what that star system really was, where it was and what the captain had in mind.

However, if he wanted the information, he would have to approach Gul Betak. The captain was mute as an oyster. Intentionally? Part of a scheme? He wouldn't put it past her.

The astrometrics expert was humming pleasantly in his den. Stellar Cartography with its impressive three dimensional monitor was the only place Chakotay hadn't visited since he had boarded the Chief. Needless to say why.

Yet, the Cardassian looked so... harmless, as he trotted round the platform, punching a control here, adjusting a scale there. Watching the artificial space spin with fascinating grace, it was easy to see why Mel had been so keen on keeping aboard their former foe aboard. Betak had an almost ridiculously sharp and accurate eye when it came to space and perspective. He travelled round through and among the coordinates and the three dimensional paths as easily and with the same zest as the proverbial fish in its proverbial water.

Chakotay took a tentative step towards the erect back of his one-time foe. Betak heard this and without turning said:

"Welcome to my world, Commander. I have been expecting you."

Then he did turn and added:

"And I can well understand why you may feel apprehension towards me."

"I do not feel apprehension towards you." Chakotay protested, in classic denial.

Gul Betak folded his hands and cocked his head, and looked at the Native American in the same manner as one would a particularly slow child.

"Yes, you do. Just as I did towards everybody when I first came here."

Chakotay blinked. He had never considered that side of the story. But naturally a Cardassian must have felt more than threatened by being surrounded by former antagonists, both humans and Bajorans.

"Then why did you come here in the first place?" Chakotay asked almost hoarsely.

The Cardassian shrugged. Such an awkward movement for shoulders packed with ridges. The XO dully wondered if that wasn't a habit the man had picked up from spending time with humans.

"What makes a man leave his home world for good? What makes him forget about his family, his duty, his culture, his government?", he asked looking down, ostensibly finding his shoes fascinating.

Then he looked up and met Chakotay's glance with those intriguing reptilian eyes of his, and answered his own question.

"Screams, Commander. That's what. Screams."

"Screams?" he knew screams. Screams of his world with thousands of souls dying.

"Screams of dying prisoners." The Cardassians stated with a calm that made the statement so much more damning.

"Screams of enemies of the state, screams of innocent worlds that didn't appear to have done anything to deserve murder and havoc. Screams, Commander, of foes."

He looked down again and let the eyes of his commanding officer go, murmuring on:

"I was the prison guard of the prison in which Mallennie Millie was held... she was young, graceful, her eyes full of life and spite. I couldn't face the prospect of those eyes reduced to low embers and slowly die before my very eyes. Like I had seen so many times before... so many times..."

And then he returned to his station.

"I had to do something..."

Had he said that last remark? Chakotay couldn't really hear it clearly. Perhaps he had mumbled something and Chakotay's own mind had filled in the blanks?

The big man didn't know and didn't find it important to know. He acknowledged what he had heard with a nod of his head, whispered a hasty 'forgive me' and exited with considerably less dignity than the Cardassian had turned round.

It wasn't until he had returned to his own quarters that he realised that he had left Stellar Cartography without getting the answers to his original questions about the star system.

The Chief was fast on route to the captain's mystery detour. And her first officer was ready to embrace whatever the future and Mel Dayton had in hold for him.


On to Part 3

Either way, please tell me how you liked it.