The Cardassian Mask Chapter 2: Part Two: Seska, a startrek: voyager fanfic

THE CARDASSIAN MASK

The Cardassian Mask

A Star Trek: Voyager Novel

written and illustrated by
L. R. Bowen
LRBowen@aol.com
http://members.aol.com/lrbowen/lrbowen.htm

PART TWO: SESKA

CHAPTER SEVEN

THERE WAS A HARD, COLD SURFACE under his cheek. Under his whole body. He shivered, and a painful tingle crackled through him, as if the entire area of his skin had fallen asleep. Some sort of sound escaped him, but he couldn't hear it. So cold--

Then it was heat, burning pain in his extremities, his hands clenching involuntarily and trembling. He thought he was groaning, because his chest and stomach ached dully with movement.

Were his eyes open or not? Dark, with hot points of red dancing across his vision, or his mind's vision. Something lying over his legs.

Startling clarity--a voice in his ear.

"The marked one is waking."

"Call the alien," replied another.

His eyes were closed after all, so he opened them. Grey. Dim. A wall coming into focus.

A bright white light snapped on. Chakotay squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Turn him over," said a woman.

Hard hands grabbed his shoulders and heaved him upright to a sitting position. He squinted into the painful brightness, barely making out the silhouette of slender limbs and long light hair trailing over the shoulders.

"Hello, Chakotay. How nice to see you again," said Seska in a laughing voice. "You're looking well, considering. I see the bitch hasn't worn you out yet."

"What...?" he managed.

"Where's your sense of humor, Commander? Oh, sorry. Stun beams don't enhance that quality in anyone. How's Harry?"

She stirred the inert figure at Chakotay's side with her foot. Rutskoi was rolling upright on her own.

"He's wounded. He needs medical attention," said Chakotay. "Let him go, at least."

"Poor Harry. That's not my fault; these smelly thugs wanted to kill you all. It took a lot of persuading to get out there with a stunner before they fried you to a crisp. Seems they don't like taking captives."

"No? I suppose that's a specialty of the Obsidian Order," Chakotay said, and found her eyes.

"Ah, that's my Chakotay," said Seska. "B'Elanna may not appreciate your twisted jokes, but I'm rather fond of them, myself."

"Yourself? Which one do you mean?"

"Exactly. Good example."

Kim began to groan. Chakotay saw with horror that the young man's upper back and part of his scalp were scorched down to the skin, which was burned red and brown.

"Don't you have a medic?" he asked. "He's going to be screaming in a minute unless he gets something for the pain."

"Oh, I suppose that could be annoying," Seska said. She raised her gloved hand to her hip and snapped open a small case. "Give him a shot of this--he'll be in bliss for hours. These ugly bastards use it for fun." She tossed Chakotay a vial and a grooved needle in a sheath.

"What is it?" he asked suspiciously, catching.

"How should I know? An opiate of some kind, judging from the effect. I didn't specialize in poisons. Just dip the needle in and then puncture his skin with it."

Chakotay looked at the apparatus with disgust. Kazon recreational drugs? Kim moaned louder and rolled onto his side. His bloodshot eyes opened, blinked, registered Seska's presence.

"Commander? Why--auughh..."

Seska pursed her lips. "You're the one who warned me he would need something for the pain. If you're not going to use it, I suppose I could just stun him again--" She slipped an ugly little weapon out of her sleeve.

Chakotay caught her wrist. Immediately a Kazon grunted, and several of the huge bushy-headed men converged on him.

"Oh, stop that," said Seska. "If I need your help, I'll ask for it." She broke his grip with a snakelike twist and concealed her stunner. "Chakotay--take my advice." She reached in her jacket and touched a stud on a small box. "There--I won't be translated for them now. These gentlemen are itching to see the color of your insides. Don't give them too many excuses. They don't care too much for me--they just want whatever they can get out of the arrangement. But they hate your guts. They saw you standing beside the bitch, and for her sake, they'd like to send you back in little bleeding pieces."

Kim was panting hard, trying to conceal the tears running down his cheeks. Chakotay grimaced and dipped the needle into the vial, shaking off all but a tiny drop of the substance, and pricked Kim's neck near the burn. The drug took immediate effect, the tortured face relaxing into smoothness as a glazed, dreamy look invaded the young man's eyes. Rutskoi started to speak, but subsided with a groan and put her hands over her ears, her face covered with blood from her nose and her broken eardrums, the effect of the concussion grenades. Seska smirked and took the apparatus from Chakotay.

"My, he looks a lot happier than you do. Cheer up. This could be your lucky day." She turned away from his narrow-eyed stare, turned on her translator again and snapped at the Kazon. "Is the ship ready to go? Put them on it, and let's get out of here. Voyager's phasers can't cut through to us, but a photon or two on that hatch won't make us very happy." Seska whipped away down the corridor. Several Kazon--she was right, they did smell--hauled Chakotay to his feet and pushed him along after her. Kim had to be dragged, and Rutskoi staggered under prods from a weapon.

The corridor took a turn and ended in a huge double door. Chakotay noted that all the metal of the structure had a bronzy cast-- whether that was an inherent quality or some form of rust or oxidation he could not tell. Moisture streaked the walls in spots, and heavy dust lay in the corners. Two Kazon pushed the doors aside by hand. Apparently the mechanism was broken.

A small, fast-looking ship resembling the Kazon fighters he had battled around the Caretaker's array sat in the dark hangar.

"Move it!" barked Seska. "Where's the pilot? Tell him to get his grimy ass on the bridge."

Chakotay realized that the Kazon men--eight of them visible-- followed her orders slowly and grudgingly. She strode up the boarding ramp, boot-heels clicking on the corrugated metal, then turned to look at him. Her long legs were encased in some heavy half-matte covering that fit her like a second skin, but she wore a loose charcoal-colored jacket, belted, that enveloped her upper body and hips. The effect was vaguely like a Cardassian uniform, and Chakotay fought his inclination to snarl.

Seska caught his expression and held his gaze for a moment, cocking her head to the side and compressing her wide mouth into a fleeting smile. Chakotay tried to see the Cardassian bones under the Bajoran flesh. That's all false, he reminded himself. Everything you see is false. But something familiar shone out in the hazel eyes, something from within, through the mask.

"Step on board, Chakotay," she said. "We're all in this together now." She unknowingly echoed Janeway, who had wondered how anyone could betray his or her shipmates--

Seska did not believe she was a traitor. Her words on being discovered, the harsh words she had spat at the captain, at him--she had given a replicator to the Kazon because she knew Voyager needed strong allies. All along, possibly even now, she had worked to help the homeward journey as she saw fit. Chakotay realized that his suspicions must be true, that she must have conspired with or pressured Torres to install and conduct the disastrous test of the Sikarian space-folder. No one had confided in him. Obviously Seska had already regarded him as under Janeway's thumb.

And now? In her power, or that of the Kazon. What was she planning to do with her prizes? He walked up the ramp towards her, Kim and Rutskoi following with the group of huge, growling men.

"Put them in the lockup," she said. "Not him. Come with me, Chakotay." He looked with concern at the two wounded officers, still his responsibility. Kim was in dreamland, but Rutskoi managed a tight smile. "I promise they won't get eaten for lunch, Commander. You're the one whose safety is in question, anyway." She raised her brows and cocked her head again, smiling to show her white teeth. "Come on."

He swallowed his mistrust and followed her.

HIS STONE WAS GONE. The little pouch he had worn on a cord under his shirt had been taken from him. Seska, or the Kazon? He didn't feel like inquiring just now.

The little bridge had some similarities to that of his lost ship, that had ended its days as a missile to bring down a huge Kazon-Ogla cruiser. How many had he killed in that battle? These men were Kazon- Nistrim, but they were all the same species, and shared resentment at Voyager's presence in their space. Janeway had humiliated their leaders, and he was her officer. Even before he had become that, he had defended Voyager with everything he had, and at great cost to her enemies. Chakotay realized the degree of the hatred they must bear towards him. He had felt that same look, the one the pilot turned on him, on his own face when dealing with a Cardassian Gul.

"Sit there," said Seska. "Turn to the viewscreen, and hold that pose. Good."

"Now," she continued, taking the tactical station, "Are the engines warmed up? The hangar doors are ready to go."

"Yes," replied the pilot, and allowed himself one more venomous look at Chakotay before concentrating on his task. Chakotay watched the ignition sequence carefully; fairly straightforward. Strange how the basics of starship engineering could change so little at such a distance from familiar places. Take a basic humanoid, put him in a tin can, watch him fly.

Dim starlight broke in from above as an irising opening rapidly expanded. When it had grown to a size sufficient to accommodate the ship, the engines roared with a burst of yellow flame that lit up the whole cavern. Shuddering, the ship leaped into the night sky. Chakotay caught a glimpse of small lights in the forest as the pilot banked, and then they were in the stratosphere.

"High orbit," said Seska to the pilot. She rose and made her way along the consoles to where Chakotay sat.

"Shouldn't be long now," she said. Lights blinked on the panel, and she slid in front of him and poised one finger over a switch. "Keep your eyes front, and don't say a word," she hissed over her shoulder. "Remember, I've got two of yours in the lockup." Chakotay let his face settle into stoniness. She hit the switch.

Janeway's voice. Hard with anger. "Ensign Seska. You can't get away, you know. I think you would prefer to be tried fairly--"

"To be locked up for seventy-five years, you mean? I have a better idea." Seska moved aside to reveal Chakotay. He looked up at the screen and into his captain's eyes.

For a moment, Janeway's beauty shone through the hard shell. She gasped, then ordered with a low growl, "You will release my officers at once. Transporter room--"

"Do that, and watch him die," said Seska, with the snub of Chakotay's own phaser against his temple. The two women snarled at each other into the viewscreens. "I have Kim and Rutskoi as well. I think you want to talk to me."

Janeway flicked her eyes to him. He nodded in confirmation. She wheeled; motioned to someone to cut the channel. In a moment, she was back, Tuvok visible behind her.

"Talk, then," she snapped.

"All right. Condition one. Power down those phasers, and tell B'Elanna to dump that tractor beam she's readying."

Janeway's eyes narrowed. She made a quick nod to the side.

"That's better. Condition two. After this conversation is over, I'm going to move to the opposite orbit position--the entire planet between us. If I see even Voyager's nose peeking over the horizon without my say-so, I space a hostage. Understood?"

The captain looked at Chakotay, still quietly sitting with the weapon pressing into his tattoo. He felt like throwing up, his stomach and bowels contracting, a terrible taste in his mouth, but breathed evenly and gently, willing calm. He had seen Seska kill before. She had an arm over his shoulders and her breasts pushing against his upper back, and he had no doubt she would vaporize his skull and cerebrum if she saw fit. Just a cloud of fine pink mist as his body slumped forward in her embrace.

Janeway's face. He concentrated on her wonderful eyes, and drowned his fear in them. Trust her. She's a Starfleet captain. One Obsidian Order operative, and a squad of grunting Kazon goons? Not a chance. He felt a faint smile on his lips.

"Understood," replied Janeway. Chakotay knew that look. He didn't have half the slyness of which she was capable. Honest and open to a fault, probably his main fault. Never cultivated a suspicion if he could help it. That line could head his obituary.

"I'm glad you understand so well. Now here's my shopping list: Replicator. Transporter console circuitry. Four photon torpedoes. Copies of all the programming and data in Voyager's computer banks. Package that all up, and I'll tell you where to deliver it."

"I'll deliver it to--" Janeway flared. It was a calculated outburst. "In exchange for what?"

"All my hostages, of course." Seska rolled her eyes.

"Ensign," said Janeway, "I think you should know that we have two of your Kazon crew in the brig. I propose an exchange--"

"You can shove them in the waste reclamation system for all I care. I've told you the sort of currency I'm dealing in. Everything I mentioned, and you let me leave the system and join up with my dear friends again, too. Details later. Decide in an hour." Seska cut the transmission.

"She's looking well, too. The situation must be agreeing with both of you." She faced him and tucked the phaser into her jacket. "Don't look so green. It wasn't you I was going to space."

"She'll never give you all that for us."

"I think she will." Seska smiled, lifted her small chin and took a deep breath. "The bitch likes you pretty well, I see. How long did it take her to get her claws on you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Innocent boy, huh? She's wanted your big sweet ass for quite a while. And I don't think she's the type to wait too long for what she wants." Her eyes narrowed. "Why, I even thought--that's why you turned me down that day, wasn't it?" Seska's voice was becoming shrill. "Screwing the captain. What a sweet deal for you. No wonder you lost all your nerve. She's got your balls in her pocket--"

"Stop it!" he nearly shouted at her, anger and pain overcoming fear. "I won't listen to another second of your accusations. I've never touched her--" He knew his face had betrayed him when the memory of Janeway's kisses flashed like a weapon's bolt across his brain.

"Oh, you've done something, haven't you?" Sharp and triumphant, her ploy having unmasked a fact he would never have willingly told her. He shouldn't have forgotten what a good actor she was. "What was it? Don't tell me--" Chakotay fought to get his expression under control. He rose and turned away, shaking. Never again, not even if he lived through this. He thought the burning in his chest would consume him.

"Incredible," Seska murmured. "Slapped you down? Not the impression I had from her just now. Good old Starfleet discipline, I suppose. She is their senior officer in the quadrant--has to uphold the honor of the entire blasted Federation." She folded her arms and stared at him. "A Cardassian commander wouldn't bother with ridiculous scruples like that, you know. She--or he--would sleep with you to ensure your loyalty, if you wanted it. Whatever it takes. That's why we'll destroy the Federation when the next war comes. No self-imposed ball and chain. And if you had done what I and all the Maquis expected you to do, and taken command of Voyager immediately, we wouldn't even be having this discussion--we'd be home."

"And in a Cardassian prison camp, if you had your way." He tried to see flaring grey scales on her slim neck. Seska regarded him levelly, her eyes showing that odd quality again.

They wouldn't have had to change the eyes. She stepped forward, took his face in her hands, kissed him. He jerked away violently, gasping in distaste and at the shock of older memory. Seska was left grasping empty air, her hair fallen over her forehead.

"Bastard," she whispered.

"I thought you said you couldn't imagine how you ever--loved me," he spat, and wiped his lips with his hand. Seska's face trembled, and then hardened again, his compunction at the theatrical gesture as brief as her vulnerability. Another damn trick on his sympathies--

"Maybe my imagination is running away with me." She brushed back her hair, her face pale, her eyes a little wild. The Kazon pilot stared at them, and she glanced over Chakotay's shoulder, then drew the phaser, took him by the elbow and propelled him into the corridor. They took a few steps before she halted. He stopped, knowing she had the weapon at his back, and waited, listening to her breathe. The snub of the phaser touched his back, and he straightened up with a fiercely suppressed gasp. The phaser drew a line across his side, over his arm, nudged his ribs as Seska moved around and into his line of sight. It came to rest directly under his breastbone, and he looked into her eyes. "How could you want that bitch, and turn me away?" Seska hissed. "I've been with you so long. I'm a better cook than she is. I gave you my body--"

"The one the Order surgeons gave you?" He glanced down at her grey jacket, so like the uniform he had hated. "So that you could infiltrate my group, sell us all to prison camps and torture? What could that have meant to you?"

"Cardassian women don't make love lightly, Chakotay. I would never have turned you in. I thought I could persuade you--"

"To betray my own people?" he said, choking on the thought. "You didn't know me well enough to love me."

"You betrayed the Federation to join the Maquis."

"The Federation sold my home for a false peace!" he roared. "I told their government I didn't owe them any loyalty, and they cut me loose. You can't be a traitor to something to which you don't claim allegiance." The phaser dug into his stomach. So kill me now, he thought. I won't give you any claim on me--

"And do you claim allegiance to her?" Seska said, and bared her teeth.

He would have shouted Yes, he would have poured out his heart and guts to her, he would have died gladly for his captain--

And Kim, and Rutskoi? he suddenly recalled. Will they die gladly for your blunders? Chakotay broke the gaze and looked down at the phaser. Honest and open? Maybe you should learn something from that smart, cunning woman whose abilities you so admire. Janeway had sent an agent after him as well. She had her ironclad principles, but she didn't shrink at deception in a larger cause. Be an old friend like he had asked Torres to be, for a little while...

"No," he said. "She represents the Federation here."

"Now, we're getting somewhere," replied Seska.

SHE LED THE WAY AFT to the crew quarters and the lockup. Kim was still smiling beatifically, slumped on the floor of the cell. Rutskoi sat on the cot, holding her head in her hands. Most of the blood had dried and flaked off by now.

"Time for a choice, Chakotay. Do I put you in here, or in my quarters?" The scowling guard moved aside when she gestured. "Having trouble deciding? Let's see if we can help you along," she purred, and dropped the force field with a small cylindrical key. Rutskoi looked up dully. Probably deaf from the eardrum rupture. Kim's wounds smelled like roast meat.

"Can't you do something to treat them?" Chakotay asked.

"If all goes well, they'll be back on Voyager in a few hours," she replied, entering the cell. "That snippy hologram can patch them up as good as new. Kazon medicine isn't anything to write home about."

Seska squatted down by Kim. "Hello, Harry. I'm your friend, you know."

"'Lo, Seska," he mumbled. "You haven't been round for a while."

"No, I haven't been, but I missed you. Did you miss me?"

"'Course I did. Yer a lotta fun."

"Why, thank you, Harry. I'm glad you think so. I'm sorry I didn't get better, um, acquainted with you, sweetie. I was looking in the wrong direction, I guess..."

"Didja still wanna go on that holodeck ride?"

"Why, sure, Harry. That did sound nice, and I was sorry to miss it. Wasn't my fault, really. Can I make it up to you?" She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.

Chakotay felt a frisson of loathing shiver up his spine. "Leave him alone." The drug apparently made Kim susceptible to suggestion.

"Jealous? Why? You just made it quite clear you don't want this for yourself. Maybe Harry would appreciate it more. And I'm sick of looking at these ugly, hairy, stinking Kazon." She slanted her toothy smile at him, and arched her dark brows coquettishly. Her hands stroked Kim's uniform over his chest and stomach, and he smiled, his glazed eyes not registering anyone but her. "Can I ask you something, Harry?"

"Sure, what?"

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"Kim, don't talk to her. She's no friend of yours."

"Of course I am. Hmm?"

"Oh, gosh..." Kim's brow furrowed in concentration. "Commander Chakotay picked you up in the holorecording he made for the captain--"

"That he made for the captain?" Seska's voice was a quiet purr.

"Yeah. It's so pretty here. Gee, you'd like that recording. It's gotta lake and they took a, um, a canoe to see the wadderfalls...she was having a really good time, it looked like. I think you'd like it a lot."

"Oh, I like a lot of things Chakotay does," said Seska, and turned to look at him. Appraisal, the quick process of thought, and a powerful undertone of anger, almost a sense of, unbelievably, betrayal. She leaned over and kissed Kim tenderly, then looked up at Chakotay under her brows. Seska was trying to provoke him, obviously, and he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He crossed his arms and pretended to a stoicism he did not feel.

"Stop that. He's drugged, and I'll--"

"You'll what? Harry likes it, don't you, Harry?" she cooed, biting the young man's ear and flicking her tongue along his smooth cheek. Her hands slid lower on his body.

"You're awful nice to me, Seska," Kim droned. "Didn't know you liked me that much."

"Why, of course I like you. I thought you were just the cutest thing the moment I saw you. Black hair, broad shoulders," she glanced up at Chakotay-- "those sweet curved lips and trusting manner..."

Jealous? She was working pretty hard at that-- Let her think it was succeeding. Let her think he still wanted--

"Stop it," he said through his teeth. "Get your hands off him."

"I told you you might regret passing up an available mate. Had your sights a little higher, perhaps? Good strategy. Nice idea. Too bad it didn't work."

Gods, she thought he had meant to work his way into intimacy with Janeway for his own purposes? Only what she had done to him herself. "Guess my heart wasn't in it," he managed. Seska smiled.

"Oh, and Harry--how were the scanners configured? That base has better shielding than anything I've ever seen." She slid her hand down to his crotch and squeezed. Rutskoi started up, but stopped when Seska twisted and displayed a weapon. She dropped back on the bunk and stared at at Chakotay, obviously not understanding the conversation or the point of Seska's actions. Kim began to recite a list of technical specifications Chakotay only half understood, and he watched her grope at the young man while she listened and nodded, keeping her eyes on Chakotay. She began to inch down the fastening of Kim's uniform, grinning. Rutskoi kept staring at him.

"Stop that, dammit. Kim, don't tell her--"

"Pay no attention to him. He's having regrets. What frequency in the low infrared was that, Harry?"

How the hell could he pull this off? He had to try, no matter how the thought ripped at his guts. He had made love to this woman, and he had never been able to forget that fact, whether he had remembered it with warmth or bitter humiliation, except for a few minutes in another's arms. That solace was closed to him forever. Seska nodded and smiled at Kim, and ruffled his hair while her left hand stroked and tickled along his groin, teasingly, more as a display than anything else. Rutskoi was fuming, her expression nauseated. Kim finished his recitation and beamed happily at Seska.

"Thank you so much, Harry. Go to sleep now, precious." Kim relaxed and closed his eyes. "Good stuff, that Kazon drug," Seska grinned. She stood with a long graceful uncoiling of her body and tossed her hair back. Chakotay ground his teeth. Seska left Kim as he was and returned to the cell door where Chakotay stood. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck, her long nails stroking just above his uniform collar. She was tall, taller than Janeway, and her lips came within centimeters of his when she levered his head down by digging her nails into the back of his neck. Chakotay did not move, either backwards or forwards.

Rutskoi was looking alternately at Chakotay and Seska, her expression unchanged for either. He tried to explain with his eyes, but she turned to the wall and hunched over.

"Coming?" Seska said archly. "Or do I throw you in with your little Starfleet buddies?"

His fists clenched in impotent fury. Am I a prisoner, or a collaborator? Do I join a woman who stands for everything I despise, because she holds the upper hand? Do I take the opportunity to gain advantage for the future, to hold true to my real loyalties in the end?

If once, why not again?

"I'm coming," he said.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"I CAN'T GIVE HER even a single particle of dust from this ship." Janeway felt the warmth drain from her face as she pronounced the words that might spell the death warrant of the three hostages.

Kim, that innocent boy on his first mission. Rutskoi, a good solid crewmember who didn't deserve such a reward for years of meritorious service.

Chakotay...

He was her first officer. A valuable member of the team. A man utterly worthy of trust, into whose charge her ship and crew would fall if anything were to happen to her. She knew he would take good care of them--if he ever got the chance.

And no other reason that you want him to return to you can have any influence on your decision...

"Captain, you have to get them back. It doesn't matter what she's demanding. Give her anything, and we'll get it back later," pleaded B'Elanna Torres, leaning over the conference table. "I know her, Captain. She will kill them if we don't cooperate. She was one of the most ruthless fighters in our Maquis cell. She doesn't stop at anything to achieve her goals."

"Did she even kill Cardassians?" asked Janeway softly.

"She once slit the throat of an Obsidian Order operative we caught before Chakotay could stop her," said Torres. "I only realized why a little while ago--she must have been afraid he might blow her cover."

Tuvok quirked an eyebrow upwards. "I must concur with Lieutenant Torres. I did not witness the incident in question, but it is consistent with the psychological profile I compiled while observing the cell's operations."

"Observing, huh?" muttered Torres. She darted a glance at the Vulcan.

"Do you compare my actions within your group with those of Ensign Seska, Lieutenant?"

"There's some basis for comparison there," she replied, reluctantly but with a growl that made Janeway glance sharply at her. Tuvok said nothing.

"Gentlemen," said Janeway into the crystallizing tension. "We are not here to debate the relative morality of undercover operations. I called this conference to find a solution to the immediate problem: how to get our people back without compromising the Prime Directive and putting powerful weapons technology into the hands of the Kazon- Nistrim."

"Can't we attack her?" suggested Tom Paris. "If we put together a small group and transported on board--"

"Too risky," said Janeway with a wave of the hand. "We'd have to deactivate their shields first, and that would give them plenty of time to kill the hostages. You saw Seska with that phaser against Chakotay's head."

"Yeah, but...would she really do that? I thought she was one of the Big C's old girlfriends."

"You should know better than to ask a question like that, Paris," sneered Torres. "Old girlfriends are the worst kind."

"None of mine ever wanted to kill me," he snapped back.

"Don't be so sure about that," she said.

"Gentlemen," said Janeway, with an edge in her voice.

Paris gulped and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Captain," said Torres after a moment. "It's just...Chakotay...and Harry..." Her voice trailed off.

"I know, B'Elanna. We're all...concerned about their welfare. Suggestions?"

Torres bowed her head, and Paris cracked his knuckles, jumping at the sudden sound into the silence. Tuvok cleared his throat.

"Ensign Seska has not yet specified the arrangements she wishes to make for the delivery of the ransom. She is due to contact us for our decision in thirty-six minutes. If we simply refuse to pay, she may kill a hostage to convince us to reconsider. An outright refusal would therefore be unwise."

"Yes, Tuvok. My thoughts exactly. We have to play along with her until our people are out of danger. B'Elanna--get together all the items Seska mentioned, and put them in carrying cases."

"Aye, Captain--but--"

"Yes?"

"That anti-transport field she used during the fight on the surface--it was a pretty sophisticated one, but I think I know how to counter it in case she uses it again. If I could take some people--"

"As many as you need," Janeway nodded. "Get on it right away."

When Torres had left, she turned to Tuvok. "What do you think? Is Seska playing straight herself? Do you think she'll just hand over her captives and fly away?"

"To bring so many valuable technologies to the Kazon might give her some prestige in their society. She went to them with nothing but her knowledge of Alpha Quadrant inventions and her engineering skills, which, if truth be told, are significantly inferior to those of Lieutenant Torres. These attributes would be of some use to the Kazon, but she may feel that her position is precarious. I believe she will logically be seeking some way to consolidate her power, to place herself above threat and the favor of one Maje or another."

"Yes, Tuvok, that makes a lot of sense. But what could she do to consolidate power?"

"She may have no intention of handing over her acquisitions, but instead to use them to seize control of a group of Kazon and act as Maje or warlord."

"But she'd need a bigger ship--"

"Maybe First Maje Culluh is going to get a little surprise when his Cardassian friend gets back," grinned Paris.

Janeway returned the smile, grimly. Seska and Culluh, a match made in a diseased imagination. What a pair those two devious vipers must make.

"Security to Lieutenant Tuvok," buzzed Tuvok's com badge.

"Excuse me, Captain," he said, and tapped it. "Proceed."

"Sir--this is Peters. I'm in Sickbay. The Kazon prisoners...the doctor just pronounced them dead."

"Indeed," said Tuvok. "May I presume they committed suicide?"

"That's right. We searched them, but we'd have had to shave them to get through their hair. One of them had a poisoned needle. I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

"There is no need for apology, Crewman." Tuvok looked at Janeway, and she lowered her head to her hand and took a deep breath.

"It's all right, Peters," she replied. "It's not your fault. What did they fear more than death...?" She shook her head in disbelief. "At least we weren't counting on them as a way to get our own back, the poor devils. Have the doctor put the bodies in stasis. Perhaps we can return them to their people eventually."

"Aye, Captain."

The silence in the briefing room hurt Janeway's ears, and when she spoke, her voice seemed harsh to her.

"Well, until we get a communication from Seska, all we can do is find ways to counter the devices we know she has. Let's get back to work."

"Wait a minute--how is she going to call us if she's on the other side of the planet where we can't observe her?" asked Paris.

"She has placed a communications relay buoy between us," replied Tuvok.

"Hey...maybe we could use that to tap into her systems--"

"I already thought of that," said Janeway. "It's not activated at the moment; she'll notice if I try to turn it on. And after that threat, I don't want to do anything to make her think we're sneaking up on her. The ball's in her court. Gentlemen--dismissed."

AFTER SUPERVISING THE PACKING of the ransom items, Janeway headed down to Engineering to check on Torres and Carey.

"I think she used an EMP generator to create an ionized radiation field. It makes transporter lock impossible. I can use an ion-damping beam to disperse it, but she would be expecting that, and probably has measures to deflect anything of the sort," said Torres, sorting through parts in a locker.

"So what's your idea, B'Elanna?" asked Janeway.

"Pattern boosters, with an enhanced lock signal. If we use those in conjunction with the ion-damping beam, we can cut through the interference and beam out the hostages--and the ransom."

Janeway frowned and shook her head slightly. "That would do it-- but pattern boosters would be difficult to conceal. We can't let her know about them until we're actually energizing."

"Yes," said Torres, with a smile at Carey. "Lieutenant--punch up that design we worked out."

Carey's fingers flew over a console, calling up glowing green lines that spiraled and converged into a wire-frame image.

"A miniaturized booster--" breathed Janeway. "But where can you fit the enhanced lock--"

"See, the flared bipolar couplings on the upper end--"

"Perfect," said Janeway, beaming. "Well done, you two. How soon can you build a set?"

"We'll have them ready in an hour."

"What would I do without you, Torres?" She clapped Torres on the shoulder.

Carey smiled a little ruefully.

"WE ARE BEING HAILED, Captain," said the young ensign at Ops.

Janeway glanced up from her monitor, on which she had been drumming nervously for the past five minutes.

"It is now eight minutes, four seconds past the time that was set," said Tuvok.

"Enough time for us to start to worry, but not enough to confirm our worries," muttered Janeway. "Open a channel." She rose to face the viewscreen. The small bridge again, but only the Cardassian this time.

"Hello, Captain," said Seska. "Had enough time to think about it?"

"Yes, Ensign, we have. I want to offer you one more opportunity to give up your prisoners and turn yourself over. I promise you'll be fairly treated."

Seska smiled a mirthless, toothy snarl. "As fairly as you treated all of us when you destroyed the Array? As fairly as you deprived us of any chance to get home? I'll depend on your fairness, bitch, the day I see my family again and greet them with my own face. You've locked me in this skin for the rest of my life."

The big hazel eyes met the narrowed blue ones, and Janeway was startled to feel a trickle of pity starting in her thoughts. Trapped inside one's own devices...

Then the wide mouth snarled again, and Seska hissed, "Take a shuttle. Hold Voyager in geosynchronous orbit on the equator, directly opposite the base. Bring the items I mentioned to the entrance your unfortunate party discovered, and wait for me. Be there in an hour. If I see anyone besides you and Tuvok, I'll deliver my prisoners in pieces, courtesy of my Kazon friends. Clear?"

"You want me to deliver the ransom myself?" A Red Alert began to flash in Janeway's mind.

"That's right, Captain. None other. I've got a few words to say to you that really need to be delivered in person. That's all you need to know." The screen abruptly showed the planet's surface again.

"Damn! Sorry, Captain, she didn't keep the buoy active long enough," said the ensign at Ops.

"That's all right, Ensign," said Janeway, still staring at the screen. "I didn't expect much new information from a probe through it anyway. We already know what kind of ship she has, and how many people are on board. As for what she's planning--we'd have to be telepaths to know that." She thought of Stadi again.

THE SHUTTLE BAY echoed with the soft thumps of antigrav loading units. Torres handed Janeway a grooved cylinder, about the size of two small clenched fists held together.

"One of the boosters is in the container with the transporter circuitry. Tuvok has one, and you have the third, Captain. Press that flange to activate it. You'll have to move to create a triangle enclosing the hostages before you can energize. If you time it right, we could even get Seska."

"Let's hope that we time it right, then, Lieutenant," said Janeway. She tucked the booster into her field jacket and stepped into the shuttlecraft where Tuvok waited. "And the ion-damping beam will activate in the shuttle when the boosters are turned on, and then the transporter?"

"Yes, Captain. I whipped up a trigger relay."

"You're a fast worker, B'Elanna."

"Try practicing with four Cardassian patrol vessels coming at you with all batteries blazing, and the shields failing." Torres smiled, and Janeway returned it.

"That's what we used to call 'the school of hard knocks'." She inspected the machinery a moment longer, then turning, she put a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "B'Elanna--Seska was a friend of yours, I know. If it's at all possible--we'll try to bring her back alive."

"Captain--"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Don't risk anything on my account. The person I thought was my friend never really existed." The Klingon ridges on Torres' forehead were sharp and prominent in the harsh light of the shuttle bay. "Bring back Chakotay, and Harry, and Rutskoi. As for her--all I want to see is her head, Captain." Torres spun and walked quickly away.

Janeway looked after her with concern, and wondered: if Seska was one of the most ruthless fighters, who was the most ruthless?

"Captain," said Tuvok as she moved forward to the pilot's seat, "I must reiterate my concern about these arrangements. The danger to you is very great."

"Yes, Mr. Tuvok. I'm aware of that. But...I don't think I have much choice. She didn't leave any space for negotiations, intentionally. And anyway..." Her voice died to a whisper.

"Captain?" asked Tuvok.

"I listened to two crewmen die, as I thought. And I was here on the ship, and could do nothing to help them. I--" Janeway closed her eyes, and a tear slid out under the lashes. Vulcans disliked public show of emotion, but Tuvok would understand. "My people. All of them, however they came to Voyager. This is my responsibility. I have to do everything I can to bring them home." She meant the hostages to the ship, the entire crew to the Alpha Quadrant. "I won't shirk that charge. I cannot give it up to anyone as long as I live. Not to anyone." She opened her eyes again and smiled into the ceiling above her, her lips parted, her tears brimming. "There are some things only the captain can do."

Tuvok did not speak for a moment, and when he did, his voice was very quiet.

"I would suggest that we get under way."

"You're right as always, Mr. Tuvok," said Janeway, and gave the order to open the shuttle bay doors.

"WHERE IS HE, Ensign?" Janeway's voice rang out like a bronze bell in the forest clearing. "What have you done with my first officer?"

"I haven't done anything to damage him, if that's what you mean. I just thought it would be better to leave him on my ship." Seska grinned sideways, flanked by four huge Kazon.

"The ransom for all the hostages, you said. What kind of bargain is this?"

"But these are all my hostages," Seska said with an air of honest innocence, gesturing to the blindfolded Kim and Rutskoi.

"Where--is--Commander--Chakotay?" Janeway repeated with icy anger.

"I told you. He's on my ship. Specifically, in my quarters. And," Seska laughed, "he went there of his own free will. He's not a hostage, he's an ally."

Janeway's hand went to her phaser, but she controlled her fury with an effort. "You're lying. I demand to speak to him."

"Indeed," said Tuvok. "I, too, find that difficult to believe." He glanced at Janeway.

"What do you know about him, Vulcan? Neither of you has worked with him for more than a few months. I've been with him for years. I know all about him, because it was my business to find out. Federation espionage is nothing compared to us. You didn't even know I was a Cardassian agent. And I know every square centimeter of Chakotay."

She looked at Janeway and repeated, "Every square centimeter." Her expression was feral, possessive, triumphant.

Janeway gritted her teeth in revulsion at the thought of Seska's hands measuring their way over his body. But she knew they had; he had admitted as much to her. Would Chakotay have allowed her to revive some dormant feeling still within him? He had resisted her attempts while they were on Voyager together. Why would he have acquiesced now?

The cradle of his hands, the press of his lips to hers, the warmth like sunlight that had filled her mind and enveloped her body...

And the cool gap between them. The height of the pedestal on which her rank and her own decision placed her. No room beside her for anyone.

"I don't believe you," said Janeway. She walked a little distance to the side to break the rigid standoff. The containers of ransom items and the photons with their antigrav carriers stood behind her and Tuvok. They had left the shuttle in the forest and taken the cargo out to the clearing by hand.

"I don't care," hissed Seska. "The items I specified, for my hostages." She pushed Kim hard and he fell forward onto the ground, sprawling in front of the Kazon.

Tuvok met Janeway's eye briefly and stooped to help Kim up. Seska's hand flashed inside her jacket, and he halted where he was. The hideous burns on the young ensign's back made Janeway want to gag, and she wondered why he wasn't howling in pain. Rutskoi stood drooping, bloodstains visible on her shirt.

Kim was within the triangle now. The containers at the apex, Tuvok at an opposite point, and she herself drawing the line out to the right. Janeway imagined an elastic cord stretched between the corners. Rutskoi would be in the area with only two forward strides, and Seska stood just outside the edge. Tuvok moved forward slightly, but Seska sensed that she was being outflanked and inched back, leaving Rutskoi in front of her.

Was she suspicious? Of course she was; she'd be a fool not to be. But she didn't know of what to be suspicious, not yet. They would have to make a move soon before she put two and two together. Chakotay's absence was a surprise and a horrible disadvantage, but the other hostages were wounded and must be rescued.

What was up Seska's sleeve? Janeway knew Chakotay had a long history with the woman, but to betray Voyager for a Cardassian infiltrator? Not in a thousand years. Perhaps he was playing along for now, leading her to believe he had defected, but how far would he carry such a deception? How far could he? Dissembling and trickery of that kind, face to face, seemed so foreign to him. He would feign damage to draw in the enemy, or mask himself to move unchallenged, but to speak lies outright and smile in a face he hated?

The pattern boosters had to be activated just before beam-out. The one in the carrying case was already on, since the signal would not read as anything unusual for transporter circuitry. But Tuvok and Janeway had to turn theirs on simultaneously to create the triangular field of influence.

She made the prearranged signal, a tap on the lips, and walked deliberately along the group of Kazon as if in thought. Not too far--the miniature boosters had a limited range. Tuvok matched her movement a moment later.

Seska whirled from one to the other, clearly confused. Janeway pressed a hand to the loose front of her field jacket and said low, "Now." She saw Tuvok activate his booster as well.

A crackle of static electricity stirred the hair on her neck. Time slowed to a crawl.

Seska's face mutated into a scream of rage. The Kazon began to scatter towards them, moving out of the boundaries of the triangle as Seska gestured. Rutskoi stood alone within it, blind and oblivious. Kim sat near the containers. Tuvok whipped his phaser out and began to lower it--

Something hit Janeway in the stomach, a blur of grey so forceful she lost her wind and was carried to the ground. Fabric ripped, and the scene began to dissolve into dancing sparkles as the shuttlecraft's transporter energized. Half-solid, Seska grappled with her, sweeping the booster out of her jacket and away. The triangle collapsed to one- third its former area.

The sparkles faltered and faded in front of Janeway's eyes as the figures of Tuvok, Kim and Rutskoi, and the containers dissolved into shards of energy. The pattern booster vanished with them as she gasped painfully to fill her lungs. Seska sat atop her, one hand twisted in her hair, pushing her face into the dirt. The other hand contracted around her throat until her vision turned red. With an agonizing effort, Janeway locked a wrestling hold on Seska's arm and shoulder, flipped her on her back, and drew her phaser. A Kazon wrenched it out of her grasp, and she felt a small hard object in her ribs.

Seska smiled, genuinely this time.

A monster hand slapped consciousness away.

CHAPTER NINE

IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN RATS, or the Kazon equivalent of them, before they had been skinned, dried and salted. Lacking replicator technology, Kazon vessels obviously would have to carry all their food, severely limiting the range of their travels. The four little brown corpses lay on a dish where Seska had left them for him, the tiny paws and tails clearly visible.

Chakotay's stomach growled persistently, but such food was so little to his taste that he could barely stand to look at it. He had maintained a vegetarian diet when he could manage one, though Maquis fighters couldn't be too fussy about personal needs. He'd eaten worse than this, certainly, and sometimes raw. Whenever he could, he'd purified himself with sweat and prayer, and fasted to get the flesh out of his system though the ritual left him weakened in body. Here, he couldn't weaken. He was going to need his strength, and if he was going to try to persuade Seska that he would cooperate with her, he should eat what she gave him at the very least. A sign of trust, and a test. She had picked one of the things up and taken a bite, crunching the tiny bones between her teeth, before she had left on her errand. Probably to show him that the food was not drugged, but she knew perfectly well he would hate it. She, who had cooked for him so often. When had his last real meal been? A lot of fruit for lunch two days before, Neelix's heaping plate twenty-four hours later, and not much since then, as he had not exactly been thinking about eating.

Chakotay took another look and swallowed hard. It wasn't wiggling like Klingon food; it was definitely dead. That was a point in its favor. If he ate quickly enough, he could get it down. Chakotay picked up one of the leathery little things, said a fast prayer for its soul, and started chewing.

Well, it was better than rancid, phaser-scorched Cardassian field rations. Two months on that while his ship's replicator had been broken had nearly killed him, alleviated only by the small stash of dried fruit and nuts that Seska had hoarded away for him. Dried fruit--there, that was a similar texture. Pretend it's dried fruit. With bones. He swallowed, and took another bite. She had been genuinely surprised and miffed when he had insisted on dividing the treat among his whole crew, even though there was only a handful for each. 'You Humans,' she had said. 'You're the captain, it's your privilege.' Torres had finally scrounged the parts to repair the replicator, grumbling about pampered digestions, and the crew had stuffed themselves until nearly unconscious. Oh, how she had cursed when they burned out the power coupling again. Chakotay smiled faintly at the memory. He'd learned a couple of new Klingon words that day. He finished the last rat, though he left the paws and heads on the dish, drank a whole container of water in one long swallow, and began to pick the bits of bone out of his molars.

Time to evaluate his surroundings. He had heard the ping of a magnetic lock after Seska had shut the door, but he should try it anyway. The big lever moved a quarter turn and stopped, and his experimental shove budged the door not at all. Well, that meant the Kazon probably couldn't get in, which was good if she had left the ship. He went over every millimeter of the compartment with painstaking thoroughness. Two narrow bunks, one above the other, a lot of locked cabinets, and a tiny privy cubicle with an open hole in the deck and no washing facilities. The bulkheads were heavy, fabricated with huge bolts and thick welds. Good basic steel alloy. The craftsmanship had a brutal soundness to it, devoid of subtlety or weakness. No ventilation ducts larger than his arm. Short of a limpet mine or a well-charged phaser, nothing was going to break him out of here, but it wasn't really in his interest to do so, anyway. His own uneasiness disturbed him as out of proportion to his actual predicament. Chakotay thought he had passed one hurdle and could see the next one coming; unless he was careless, his former lover was not likely to kill him. Why then did something seem wrong, why did he have a restless urge to get out, to warn...?

He was tapping at the base of the door to estimate the thickness of its plates when Seska put her key in the lock. He quickly retired to the seat by the sturdy porthole, but knew she had a very exact idea of what he had been doing while she was gone. He had taught her some of those techniques himself.

Seska hummed something to herself as she stepped inside, a tune Chakotay remembered having heard her sing. Catching his eye, she smiled with a barely suppressed wriggle of delight, then turned to one of the cabinets and took out a comb and hand mirror. Her hair was tangled and her face marked with streaks of dirt, but she was glowing and pink-cheeked, her eyes bright. Happy about something, obviously. Apparently her plans were going well. Chakotay crossed his arms and leaned back against the bulkhead.

Where had she been? he wondered, frowning at the deck. To collect the ransom she had mentioned? Surely Janeway hadn't capitulated. The demands had been ridiculous. Not if Seska had held twice as many hostages would the captain have given her so much--or anything at all. She would have played along, looking for a chance--

Had Janeway gambled too much? And lost the stakes? No, she wouldn't have taken that much risk, surely.

Perhaps she had. She must have felt responsible for young Kim, as Chakotay did himself, and she had known Rutskoi for years. But the safety of the ship and crew as a whole and the sanctity of the Prime Directive must come first. She would not have compromised either for the sake of any individual.

Her own safety was a different matter. Chakotay thought that he could die for his captain, because he knew she would die for-- He shivered suddenly, and looked up again.

And Seska was humming a little song to herself, and combing out her long light-brown hair, and putting away her weapons--some of them, at least--into a locking cabinet. Unclasping her heavy utility belt, she put it in the cabinet as well and snapped the panel shut. Her jacket she hung on a hook, and she turned to him in her tight body suit. Armor? Perhaps--the material had a dull metallic sheen and a texture like firmly woven wire or tiny greyish scales. None of the Kazon he had seen wore anything like it.

Seska's body seemed carved of polished graphite, a simulation of a woman, in a dark substance that would mark him if he touched it.

Only a few steps across the compartment, he sat wavering between feigned indifference, horror-tinged fascination, and a fierce inner debate between grudging acquiescence and active collaboration. What could he afford? He felt something brushing around the edges of his intuition, a whisper of fear. If something had happened to Janeway, what was his best course of action? Could he even keep up the facade necessary to convince Seska he would cooperate with her? He met her eyes, and knew his face was twitching with tension.

His captain. She couldn't be dead; he thought he would have known. Her spirit had touched his, whether she had meant it to or not. But something had put Seska into a good mood. When she had left him here, she had been tense and jittery. She had refused to say where she was going, or what she was planning to do. He was not quite a hostage, but not yet an ally.

He knew how he could push the metamorphosis forward. Seska was smiling at him, running her eyes over his face and body. Her hands flexed as if they wanted to follow the same path. But his skin crawled at the thought of her touch on him. False, monstrous flesh. And the truth was grey Cardassian hide. He had knowingly touched Cardassians only to kill them. Could he let himself be used--or use her weakness to gain advantage? Chakotay turned away to hide his expression.

No matter what Seska was or what she had done, she was a woman with a heart, who had once claimed to love him, whom he had once thought he loved.

He had been new to the Maquis, building a cell from nothing, when she had approached him in a tavern and asked for his help. An intense young Bajoran, pretty in some lights, with a wide smile and a wiry, slim body. Her amorous designs had been so obvious from the beginning that he had put her off brusquely, sent her on tedious errands, spoken harshly to her in an attempt to shatter her illusions, as he saw them. No moonstruck girls in any group under his command.

But her determination had only increased, as if his feigned irritability had been a positive encouragement, and she had ferreted out every detail of his life and his tastes in a very short time. Soon she was cooking his favorite dishes when she could get ingredients, mending his clothes although he didn't thank her, even cutting his hair when it flopped into his eyes from neglect. Eventually he had grown so guilty and miserable at the way he was treating her, and she had proven herself such an efficient fighter, that he had gone to her and apologized. That was the first time he had made love to her, and he still wasn't sure how she had maneuvered it that way.

He knew now what had motivated her and recognized her strategy for what it was: a brilliantly simple way of gathering all the information about him that she could, directly under his nose, without raising the slightest suspicion in him or in any other member of the group. And he had been so willing to believe that, such a damned fool.

But although she had molded herself to fit him with ulterior motives, her subterfuge seemed to have taken on a life of its own. She had come to him again and again, growing more passionate each time, and for a while he had given in. Flattered, perhaps, and wanting a woman in his arms, amongst all the death and hardship of the Demilitarized Zone. And her passion had been catching. To be told he was loved, that she would follow him wherever he went, help him in all his work. He hadn't asked for that kind of devotion, and it made him uneasy, but gratitude and sheer need could work wonders. He hadn't had Janeway's discipline as a commander, had been unable to deny himself the comfort. Love? By whose definition? Seska had done so much outwardly to prove hers, but the state of her mind--unknowable, unplumbable. Her thoughts too deeply hidden for him. If he exploited her physical lust, which was unmistakable, would he be playing turnabout, or wounding a vulnerable heart?

And his own feelings--physical revulsion at knowing what she was and had planned to do, but she looked as she had always done. The same face as the comrade who had found clothing and supplies for his group and for refugees, fought at his side and defended his cause, brought him soup on cold nights, talked to him for hours, kissed him and lain with him, so warmly... He was grateful, Chakotay realized with bitter irony, because a Cardassian agent sent to destroy him had helped make his life in the Maquis bearable.

He smiled a twisted smile, and looked at the woman who had threatened to kill him only a few hours before. Seska was twirling a lock of her hair around one finger and eyeing him with speculation.

"First things first," she said. "Let's get that uniform off you."

"No," he said involuntarily.

"Oh, don't give me that frightened deer look, Chakotay," she said lazily. "I've seen it all before. Just change your clothes, would you?" She nodded to a bundle she had dropped on the bunk when she had entered. "It took a while to scrounge something decent, but there you go." Seska pointedly turned her back.

Chakotay could think of no good reason not to comply. At least she wasn't holding a weapon to his head--she sounded casual and relaxed.

He walked over to the bunk and examined the clothes, then turned his back on her as well and began to strip.

He thought distantly that he should let her look if she wanted to.

Boots off first. Open the front of the jumpsuit. Pull it off the shoulders, down the arms. Step out of it. Shirt off over the head. Out of uniform. One identity gone. He folded the red-and-black slowly and put it down.

He stood bare-chested in his briefs facing the bunk, knowing she was watching him. The bundle held a pair of loose dark trousers, a long-sleeved shirt with faint patterns in the weave, and a leather vest with cargo pockets.

What did it matter how she dressed him? Janeway had done the same, and he had put the Starfleet uniform on again as if he had never taken it off. Did he change his loyalties as easily as his shirt? A live dog, a dead lion. The blade of grass bends in the wind, the unyielding oak cracks and falls. Which was he? Which did he want to be? Chakotay tried to lose all affect, all emotional reaction to his surroundings and his own actions. Putting on all the clothes, he pulled his own boots back on and fastened the front of the vest. He wasn't going to turn to face her. Seska moved slowly around him and emerged into his line of sight from the left, her face rapt.

"I thought those would fit you pretty well--" she murmured. "You've lost a little weight on Neelix's slop." Chakotay glanced dully down at himself and realized that she had chosen clothing to resemble his old Maquis wear. It felt oddly familiar, though it smelled peculiar and chemical, and faintly, antiseptically damp. "You look much more at home now. And my boys aren't too fond of men in uniform, so I thought it would be a good idea to get rid of the thing." Her hands ran lightly, lingeringly over him, adjusting the lie of his shirt collar, pressing it briefly against his chest and throat. "Oh, I've got something for you." She returned to her jacket and pulled out a small drawstring pouch on a cord. His special stone, which he had worn into danger for all the good it had done him. Seska raised it over his head and put the cord around his neck again, slipping the pouch under his shirt. "Had to make sure it wasn't anything dangerous."

"Not that kind of dangerous."

She smiled at him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Just one of your little souvenirs, of course." Her fingers spread out as she smoothed the folds of his shirt down his arms and began to roll up his cuffs for him. The sleeves of her garment extended in half-gloves, leaving her fingers and half her palms bare.

"Where did you get that armor?" he asked, to take his mind off the cool scaled touch on his skin.

"This place has a lot of interesting things tucked away in the corners," she murmured, taking neither her eyes nor her hands off him. "It's not originally Trabe--that's who built all the Kazon ships, by the way. It's enormous. They don't know how half the stuff works. Most of this part has been looted of everything portable, but I found a sealed section with living quarters and storage. That's where these came from--" she stroked her fingers along the side seams of his trousers, "-- and my clothes as well. We had to wait a while for you to show up, so I poked around a bit." Her hands remained on his hips.

"How did you know Voyager would visit this planet?" Chakotay willed himself to remain still as she moved closer. Cooperate. It doesn't matter. It won't mean anything to you.

"You think I haven't been keeping an eye on you, Chakotay?" she chuckled. "I knew you'd be foraging, and this is the best place in a thousand cubic light-years. Aren't the fruits wonderful?" She glanced at the dish that had held the rats and smiled. "The Kazon like meat better; that's one reason they stink. Did you know, they never wash their hair, ever? That's why it looks so awful." Seska made a little face of disgust, laughed, and lifted her chin in a characteristic, familiar gesture. Her hip bumped his.

"And when we were here the first time, why didn't you try anything then?" Chakotay's voice was beginning to roughen.

"Those stupid, bragging knuckle-draggers I've got with me," Seska spat. "Culluh loaned me his personal transport and this bunch because I told him I could get something valuable if I had the chance. Then they refused to go out on the surface while the big gathering parties and all the security guards were here. Kazon prefer overwhelmingly favorable odds, especially where Voyager's concerned. So I looked around by myself, but your precautions were too much for me to do anything on my own. You almost caught me by the waterfall, you know." She ran her forefinger along his chin, pressed it at the dimple as she had always liked to do. "I moved out of range, but I just couldn't leave for a little while." She arched her back to brush her breasts against him, stretched and rippled like a snake. A lithe, grey, scaled snake. An image from an ancient story: the serpent in the garden.

"I know," said Chakotay. "That's why we came back. The holorecording I made there picked you up, like Kim told you." Calm. Stay calm. Neutral. No loyalties at all. There was a terrible taste in his mouth again.

"I was wondering about that. I figured you had re-analyzed your readings and discovered the base. But you came back for me, huh?" She smiled coquettishly up at him with her head at an angle.

"The captain pretty much insisted."

"Just obeying orders?"

Chakotay remembered his struggle over whether to tell Janeway of Seska's presence in the recording. "No."

Seska moved her hand from his chin to touch his lips, softly. "I told Culluh to give me a few days and stay out of sensor range," she murmured, "and I was so angry at these idiots after they blew the first chance I actually considered booby-trapping this rustbucket and sending them off in it."

"Really."

"Oh, dammit, Chakotay. I hate them. It's horrible living on that ship, and Culluh--ugh. Seems he likes exotic women. I've been fending him off, but he's awfully determined." She glanced up at him, rolling her eyes slightly. "I haven't got much leverage, you know. I have to show them some results soon, or they may get tired of having me around. This was my last hope. They--they're fond of torture. Not necessarily to get information." An uneasy smile. "They don't know half of what I do about extracting--well, let's just say they lack finesse. I won't let them get their hands on you, no matter what."

"Thanks." He could manage only a whisper of irony.

"But you've got to help me. I had to put on a show for them--they don't respect anything but strength and arrogance. I--that must have sounded awful to you. I didn't mean it. You've got to believe me."

"I believe you were putting on a show..."

"To save your life! I've saved your life before this, you know--"

"I know." He looked away.

"That means something to you, doesn't it? To your people?"

"I suppose it does to anyone."

Seska laid her fingertips along his jaw, cradling his face in her hands. "I missed you, Chakotay. I was angry the last time I saw you, and then just now, the way the bitch looked at you--I...I was jealous." She sounded girlish, singsongy, though under other circumstances he might not have doubted her sincerity. "I suppose I've got no right to be from your point of view."

"You couldn't imagine how you ever loved me," he repeated, very low.

"What?" She studied the movements of his lips, and flushed. "Please--will you ever forgive me for that? Would it make any difference...oh, I wish it were just the two of us here. There's enough food and water here on the planet to feed a lot of people on a permanent basis, and enough equipment and instruments tucked away here to study for a lifetime. But you wouldn't have to stay here any longer than you wanted. Just figure out how some of the weapons work, and then take your pick of the ships that visit--how does that sound, Chakotay? Wouldn't you like to have your own ship again?"

"I'm more partial to buying or borrowing them than stealing them."

"I know. I helped raise the money for ours, remember? You're a good bargainer, Captain--very passable poker face when you want to use it, but we needed cold cash for that transaction, not promises." Seska laughed, and the combination of the memory and her smiling face wrought a twist in his perceptions, seemed to carry him backwards along his path to a time when the emotions stirred by that smile had been very different.

...THE GREAT RIVER of memory, swirling in eddies, flowing steadily onwards, but caught in deep pools and turbid cauldrons, circulating endlessly over and over the same stones. A year ago could seem like yesterday, or the future be as familiar as a story his grandfather had heard from his own grandfather. He knew where he was, and when, but another experience lay over it, combined itself with the present...

...Seska had embraced him once, in a tiny dark cabin, aboard a cramped ship. It was much like this one, but it orbited a small cold planet in the Badlands as they hid from Cardassian pursuit. He was exhausted, stiff-faced, his arms aching from the long flight, hard piloting through the twisting storms. Bendera was lying wounded in their improvised sickbay and Suder wasn't much better off, and the raid had failed anyway. Huixtepec they'd had to leave lying among the Cardassian corpses, barely recognizable as Human after four phaser hits, half cremated already. That was all the burial his father's sister's son would ever have. He'd lost a comrade and a kinsman, and his eyes stung with anguished fatigue. Seska had boosted him out of the pilot's seat, his muscles so cramped he could barely move, and helped him to his cabin while Torres and Ayala went below to check the overheated impulse engines. The bunk was too small for him to sit upright, so she had dragged the mattress to the deck and seated him on it, rubbing his shoulders until he relaxed, moving around to look into his face, telling him softly, over and over, that he had done his best. He'd still been grim and silent, though the strain of the flight was fading under her hands. Then she'd stood and dropped her clothing piece by piece, teasingly, until he lunged up and grabbed her around the waist. Kissing her stomach, soft and smooth, slightly ridged with muscle, one oval mole just on the apex of the curve below her navel...

Chakotay shook off the memory and looked down at the armored body close to his, trying to push away the image of its nakedness. His hand brushed over her, warding her off, but she pressed into it, turning his gesture into a caress. Seska's eyes, the warmth burning in them, avid and hungry. The past closed over his head again.

...SHE HAD HELD HIS HEAD with long fingers digging into his scalp, pushing his face into her skin, dragging him down to meet her hot core, rub herself over his nose and mouth. The salt sting of her. He had urged her down with both hands on her hips, but she had braced her knees and kept herself where she was. Her strong thighs clenching as he obliged her, stroked her and kissed her, used tongue and lips and fingers, inhaling her through the damp screen of her pubic hair. Over and over, she had begun to moan loudly, to tremble above him, but over and over, she trailed off into anguished sighs. Fingernails gouging through his hair, her frustration echoing in every crevice of the little space, locked in with him, broken gasps in the darkness. Finally she had collapsed to her knees, unable to remain standing any longer, and he had lifted her over his lap, settling her over his erection, kissing her wide mouth until her arms went around his neck. Her cry, when he pierced her, was triumphant, happy, and he had wanted to please her so, wanted to give her back the warmth he felt closing around him. The day's horrible work, the dry blood under his nails, the cold death of space; nothing. There was life in his arms, and she loved him...

Horror.

A deep stagnant hole in his memory, dark and scummed, undrainable, and poisoned. He had drunk so deep of her, thinking her wholesome, and then the source of pollution he carried in his body had stained every drop of his recollections. Everything she had touched, she had marked. Most of the last three years had seeped into this deep hole, good and bad, since he had known what she was. All but one scene of his life marked since he had met this woman, and that one scene held its own pain. Would he ever purge himself of the touch of a Cardassian? Had it become part of him, so that somehow he still longed-- His stomach twisted, its awful contents uneasy.

No. No, gods. He had breathed so much fragrant smoke, sweated himself to exhaustion, meditated until his knees ached from sitting motionless so long. Her influence over him was done. The last bit of power her memory had over him had vanished, when Kathryn Janeway had smiled up at him under violet leaves. He was sure it was gone, forever...

There was a tingling pain on the side of his neck, and Seska was staring up at him with mingled anger and yearning, her nails still spread.

"You with me?"

"Yes."

"I hate it when you do that. I can't reach you at all sometimes."

"No."

"Dammit, Chakotay," she said, and pulled his head down, and this time he did not flinch away.

She tore the clothes off of him, ripping the shirt since he barely moved to help her, and popped small catches open down the back of her armored bodysuit with a writhing twist of her arms. He skinned her of it at her insistence, looking helplessly at her body. Here he had spent so much of his power, given her his essence to hold within her. Her heavy breasts, her long legs. The mole on her stomach. Familiar, and yet he had not seen them for eleven months, not since he had told her the crew was muttering, that they were spending too much time alone, that maybe they should cool it for a while. Perhaps he had known somehow what she was, that she was no more loyal to him than was Gul Dukat, that she was smothering him with a purpose-- He hadn't had a clue. But he'd known she wanted it more profoundly than he did, and something had nagged at him, his own self-indulgence; and he had told himself he was using her. What a noble idiot. She had agreed right away, to his mild chagrin, and he was relieved and regretful at the same time, and she kept following him with her eyes. There was more than strategy there. He fasted at his own insistence, and if they hadn't ended up on Voyager, the other jaw of the trap would have closed on him. He might have gone to her again, and begged her forgiveness...

Her hands were groping and tugging at him, her body weighing down on him as he lay inert on the mattresses she had dragged out of the bunks. Her lips and teeth nipped at his throat and face, and she kissed him. The familiar woman-smell surrounding him. He realized with distant shock that he was erect in her palm, and that his body remembered her for all his effort to remain aloof. A warm woman, any woman. Seska moved over him and pressed down, engulfing him, and he gasped. Nearly a year now since he had had sex, but this was nothing like sex for him. He liked to give, but to have it taken from him-- He trembled and heaved, and she moaned in pleasure while he shook uncontrollably. The careful plan of action began to shatter along with his composure. How, when he had worked so hard to cleanse himself, could he dive back into the corruption? How, when he carried the light of the sun in him, could he plunge into darkness? Did it somehow draw him, was he filthy for life? He was drowning in darkness of his own making; fear, revulsion, anger. With every heave, the anger grew. Any semblance of arousal was dying. No one to blame but himself. Except her. Except her. Turnabout?

Chakotay reached up and seized Seska's arms, half intending to pull her off of him. Instead, he jerked her down and thrust his tongue into her mouth, kissing her as violently as he could. Physical action might stiffen his resolve, among other things, and he simply couldn't stand to lie unresisting any longer. He couldn't pretend she was taking him against his will.

Over with an effort, and he thrust into her while she cried out in startled joy and reached for him. Her face, her lying face--he couldn't stand to look at it. Chakotay yanked one of her legs up and across her body, seized her hips and flipped her over without disengaging. If he slipped out, his erection fading, he wouldn't be able to penetrate her again. Roughly, he forced her into the mattresses, pounding in a punishing rhythm that she tried to meet. When she turned to kiss him, he pushed her flat with a hand on the back of her neck. There, he was stiffening a little from sheer mechanical stimulation-- Gods, if he could only come, and soon, but it was going to be difficult. This was even less like sex, this frantic assault, though she was crying out, high-pitched, the sound lancing his roaring ears. He didn't want to hear her. He would give anything to release himself, and be finished--

"Ooaaooh, ooah," Seska was groaning into the mattresses. Familiar...she was approaching climax. So fast? It had never been easy with her, even with patient stimulation, everything he could give her, body and heart all for her. Did anyone else exist for him right now? His gorge rose at the thought. Binding himself to her again, and for what? Would he have any reward worth this? The defiling of himself, by himself. What was the use of a plan when he destroyed himself to carry it out? Would he even recognize himself when it was complete?

A Cardassian wouldn't care. She had been fitted into a new skin, and kept her purpose without knowing herself any more. Everything he saw was false. Hair, face, skin; everything he touched, even what he was plunging into. Hot and tight and wet, but he could barely feel anything. Didn't want to feel anything. He would never get release from this, never; he might have been ramming an object into her. And she had always been so difficult to bring to orgasm. Reconstructed all over, and Obsidian Order surgeons were probably better at genetic engineering than genital surgery... Pity surged through his mind to accompany the sudden horror, and he could barely continue. A Cardassian wouldn't care. Any means to bring about the end.

What was rape to them, the real thing, not this ugly echo of it? A tool like any other. He had seen the depredations left behind in the wake of their raids on colonist's villages. How many sightless eyes had he closed, how many ravaged bodies had he carried from desecrated homes, how many prayers said beside the funeral pyres? The thought crossed his mind that he could kill her now, easily, while she was off guard. The cord of the pouch round her throat; a quick thrust with one hand on the skull and a hard jerk with the other. She would never see it coming.

The sweat of exertion and nausea ran down his contorted face.

If he killed her, would the Kazon simply kill him as well? There was no way to escape this ship unseen. Paradoxically, it was too small to allow a clandestine exit. If he had been held on one of their huge cruisers, he might have had a chance.

Seska gasped and twisted under him, her muscles contracting like a groping hand. Still in a trap. If she died, there went his protection from eight or ten huge, well-armed men who would gladly hang him in his own intestines. And if, as he suspected, she had good reason to be so happy about the way her plans were going, who else might he place in jeopardy? That thought, and only that, prevented him from snapping Seska's neck as she sank limp and fainting to the deck. He might not have cared about being ripped apart by Kazon if he had taken her with him...

Chakotay pulled out of her, heaved himself dizzily to his feet, staggered into the privy cubicle, and vomited rackingly.

CHAPTER TEN

KATHRYN JANEWAY stared at the ceiling of her prison, hands on hips, scanning the bulkheads and frowning. Options clicked through her mind, swiftly evaluated and discarded. What are my chances of escape? she wondered. It would take a phaser several seconds to cut through that heavy steel, if she had had a phaser. She was lucky they had left her with any clothing at all. Seska's strip-search had been regulation Cardassian, leaving Janeway's uniform shredded and her every orifice aching; for a few moments, she had even been afraid her teeth would be pulled and examined for implants. She had heard of such extremes in Cardassian interrogations even before she had met any members of the Maquis. Her muscles ached from the stun beam, and she rubbed her neck, her unbound hair falling down her back. There was a steel slab projecting from the bulkhead, apparently meant as a bunk, but Janeway winced at the thought of sitting down.

Perhaps the rebel's point of view had some merit, if their families were routinely treated like this under Cardassian rule. Janeway wondered what she would have done in Chakotay's place, if her home had been given into hostile command and her friends and relatives harassed, tortured, even murdered. Earth in alien hands? Her mind would not form the picture. It was too preposterous. Yet the unimaginable had happened to uncounted thousands in the Demilitarized Zone. Unless war came into her own life, she would never really know of what she was capable. Starfleet had been so much of herself for so long that resigning would have been like amputation.

Chakotay had been in Starfleet long enough to be a lieutenant commander, and had been up for promotion when the treaty with Cardassia had been signed. Had he given up any less than she would have? And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, she thought.

Janeway glanced at the Kazon guard who stood on the other side of the force field. The beady dark eyes were still locked on her, as they had been for the last twenty minutes. She tugged at the just-too-short sack that Seska had made her put on after the search. Although the Cardassian's techniques had been vicious, she had not really had her heart in it, smiling and gleeful though she was. After leaving Janeway in the cell, she had hurried off with a few words to the guard.

What was going on behind that ridged forehead? Kazon resemblance to clean-shaven Klingons disturbed her.

Another one of the crew came in sight and glared at her. All ten of them had stood around to watch the search, laughing in vile enjoyment and looking as if they wanted to eat her alive. When Seska had not really hurt her, they had seemed disappointed. Perhaps she was being saved for First Maje Culluh. Starfleet personnel were not routinely equipped with any means of quick suicide, what had in former years been known as a 'cyanide tooth', but perhaps the new isolated situation would warrant it, to avoid giving out information that could damage Voyager or its crew. At the very least, Janeway might carry something in future, assuming she had a future. If she had to die to keep Voyager safe, she would, but she prayed that she would tell Seska nothing before that happened. Real torture had no real defense. Janeway hoped it would not come to that, of course. She smiled grimly to imagine what Tuvok would do to thwart the Cardassian's plans. Vulcans made unsurpassed friends, once they had decided to make allowances for your Human foibles, but to make an enemy of one--that took courage. Or ignorance.

But Tuvok had his blind spots, of course. Emotional motives, however he might study and analyze them, still eluded him in their essence. If he tried to predict what Seska might do with logic, he would go seriously astray. The woman hated Janeway with a passion, but she was cunning and well-trained. She would not make serious errors, but small ones. The security chief would have to be very careful and observant, and use all the intuition he could muster. If only Chakotay, who lacked nothing in intuition, had been there to work with him.

Chakotay...where was he? A ship this small would not have more than one lockup. Perhaps Seska had told the truth about him being in her quarters. It would have been unwise to put the captain and first officer together where they could plan, anyway. She and Tuvok worked together well, complementing each other intellectually, but something about Chakotay struck fire from her. Perhaps because they thought so differently, approached problems from opposite sides, clashed and argued on important points, they stimulated each other's thinking to a much greater degree than if they had been in agreement. Together, they were something altogether different from the sum of the parts. The businesslike, brisk, incisive captain, who nonetheless felt the human dimension of every decision. And the quiet, contemplative, deep as oceans commander, who found a wry smile for the worst situation. Janeway remembered her last sight of him, when he had looked to her for courage with death smiling toothily over his shoulder. Something had passed between them that had strengthened both resolves. A promise. He was a member of her crew, and she would do everything possible to save him.

Her body warmed even now at the thought of seeing him again, safely on her bridge, within an easy arm's reach.

And now Janeway was a prisoner herself. The damned luck, that was all. As Tuvok would say, random chance. That Seska had realized just a moment too soon, had moved quickly enough, had found the pattern booster and dislodged it. The plan was good and had nearly worked. Actually, it had worked very well; the two hostages, the ransom, and Tuvok were safe. That the solution of one problem had created an equal or worse one? The damned luck.

"DAMN, I SHOULD NEVER have given you that Kazon shit to eat. Though it does you credit-- If I had some decent ingredients--here, drink some more water." Seska poured into the glass Chakotay had let rest on the table. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little," he replied truthfully. Seska set down the steel canteen and locked the lid with a twist. All the water on this ship was apparently kept secure. She put the back of her hand against his forehead and frowned.

"You feel awfully warm--of course, Humans always do. Your skin is so delicate."

"I'm not sick," he said, trying not to flinch away from her. "I--it was just, well, exertion, I guess. And that food."

"Exertion--I'll say." Seska grinned lasciviously, her nearly maternal attitude melting into something equally intimate, a familiar mixture. "That was the best fuck I've had since I left Cardassia Prime. Why didn't you ever do it like that before? Not that I'd really complain any way you did it..." She began to run her hand up his arm. Chakotay swallowed hard and took another drink of water.

Gods, the way he had done it. Clumsy and desperate and angry. Yes, probably the most intensity he'd ever brought to bed with him, and the least amount of pleasure. She had felt the heat of rage held in stiff check and mistaken it for passion. Seska was brushing her fingernails along his jawline, tracing the outline of his lips. The nausea rose again, although his stomach was empty. And uneasiness, a new feeling of dread, a threat very near, but somehow not to him. Chakotay frowned in discomfort and confusion, trying to define the shadowy cloud of portent, but he saw the marks on Seska's throat and knew the revulsion was for himself. He felt as if he had dragged Janeway into the muck with him, for he carried her in him somehow, though she had pushed him away. He had indulged his anger and his irresolution, using the same body she had once embraced, the same hands that had touched her. Betrayed her. A trust she had rejected, but that he had held as sacred all the same. And not two days later, he had defiled what he held sacred. If he could betray her personally, he could do anything, betray his office, his ship; were they less than her to him? He'd never thought himself capable of that, and never capable of carrying out a plan like this or even formulating it, though it had been forced on him. To wish he was committing a crime whose perpetrators he had shot himself, when he could find them?

And Seska had enjoyed what he thought of as an assault on her and on himself. The worst he could do, she rejoiced in.

"Well, I didn't know you were a Cardassian," Chakotay said, smiled, and cast around for the source of his anxiety.

THERE WERE FOUR KAZON at the cell door now, conferring among themselves with frequent glares in her direction. Seska was nowhere to be seen. Janeway did not like the look of them at all. She had seen no signs of obvious insubordination, but the Kazon did not seem to regard the alien woman as a rightful commander. They followed orders, but the process of decision was visible. If Janeway had had an officer with a trace of their attitude, she would have made sure he was cured of it in short order. Seska did not want her damaged, at least not yet, but did the Kazon concur?

No escape. This little room was no more than a steel box with one wall of crackling energy. If they dropped the field, their bodies would block the entrance. She was unwounded and alert, at least. Janeway placed her back into a corner of the cell and waited.

One of the four seemed to argue the merits of caution, but not very vigorously. The other three gestured and snarled at him and at her, until the objector held up one hand in a gesture of surrender, and handed one of the others a small cylindrical object.

The forcefield dropped instantly at the touch of the key, and the first Kazon stepped in.

He went straight for her, taking no precautions at all. When her barefoot kick connected with his shin, he goggled at her before howling in pain. The howl choked off with a yelp as she stomped his instep and seized the fold of material between his legs with a vigorous twist. That vulnerability, at least, was an almost universal humanoid characteristic. Thank goodness. The big bushy head bowed down before her as the owner doubled over and fell to the floor.

The next two both tried to squeeze through the narrow door at once, and burst through suddenly. The little cell was getting crowded, without much room to maneuver. Having seen their overeager friend's fate, they were more careful. One tried to move behind her, and the other climbed onto the protruding bunk. The fourth, the cautious one, hung back a little, but came through the door as soon as he could.

Janeway stabbed stiffened fingers at the nearest one's eyes, but he dodged and grabbed at her wrist. She barely broke the savage grip. Perhaps if she called out-- Seska might stop them from ruining her prize. Were they planning to rape her, kill her, or eat her alive? Maybe all at once, if they could manage. The dark reddish tone of their faces spoke volumes.

"Help!" she croaked from a strangled throat. "Help!" Whirling, she eluded the one sneaking up from her left, but collided with the bulkhead. No room. The nearest one seized her arm again in a bonecrushing fist. Her kick was ill-timed and only made him grunt. The one at her feet rolled over and nearly tripped her.

"Help!" she cried again, more loudly. She heard a muffled bump from the other side of the bulkhead, communicated through the ventilation ducts. A steel door clanged open, and a rush of booted feet--

The fourth Kazon, still at the cell door, looked around in surprise and stepped out into the corridor.

Wham! His body hit the wall with a resounding thump. The whole ship vibrated slightly with the impact. Wrestling with the one who had her arm in his grasp, Janeway had a glimpse of a dark-clad figure trading blows with the Kazon.

"Harry!" called a familiar voice. "What are they doing to--"

Crash! The struggling men fell to the deck together.

Chakotay--he was free--Janeway twisted around and bit the Kazon in the wrist. She drew blood, and he let go. Under his arm she dived for the door. The other tackled her, and they too hit the deck.

Chakotay was pounding the Kazon's face against the door frame with both hands buried in the man's hair. His opponent tried to grab back, but could get no grip on the commander's cropped head. The ridged forehead cracked against the bulkhead, and the Kazon went limp. Chakotay rolled off of him, started to spring up, and saw Janeway.

Blank shock, horror, fear. His eyes, bloodshot and dark-circled, locked with hers in a moment's communion.

"Captain--" he whispered.

Two more Kazon appeared in the corridor behind him. One jumped on his back, throttling him with a long arm. Chakotay reached up and caught the man's coat at the shoulders, crouched and pulled to roll the attacker's weight off balance, then propelled him forward, catching his arm and twisting as the large body tumbled heavily face first to the deck. The Kazon screamed, breaking his nose with a crunch, his shoulder dislocated.

Janeway smiled in artistic appreciation, but had to pry squeezing hands from her throat. The other new arrival and the remaining man in the cell both went for Chakotay. Slamming him up against the bulkhead, one landed a solid right cross to his chin while the other punched him in the stomach. The man on Janeway pinned her on her back, pushed up her brief garment--

A sizzling burst of bluish energy enveloped him for an instant. Every muscle in his body leaped to maximum tension, then relaxed utterly as he collapsed on her. When Seska aimed her stunner at the two pummeling Chakotay, they backed off reluctantly. Janeway rolled the inert man away and staggered up, yanking at her garment. Chakotay averted his eyes and gingerly touched the purple lump forming on his jaw. His bloody lips curved in a one-sided smile, and he glanced back at her face. She began to return the smile, and then Seska spoke.

"Good work, Chakotay. I did say we had to keep her intact for a while. Apparently my crew doesn't agree with me." She kicked the stunned man.

Chakotay's face fell into the neutral mask he assumed so often. The dark eyes blanked and cooled, the intensity of combat fading. When Seska stepped over to him, pulled his head down to her and lingeringly kissed his stained mouth, he hesitated only an instant before embracing her and thrusting his tongue between her lips.

Janeway's vitals wrenched with agony that hunched her shoulders and forced her features into a rictus of horror. He was faking--he had to be--but Seska broke the kiss and turned to her with such a blatantly authentic just-fucked smile that the captain experienced a shuddering moment of real doubt. Chakotay's face conveyed nothing beyond dark, shuttered thought. Suppressed disgust? Or guilt?

"Drag those shitbags out of here," Seska ordered, brandishing her weapon. The Kazon growled and one started at her, then stopped as if thinking it over.

"We will obey," said the one who had given up the key, sitting up with his hand to his swollen face. Janeway jumped to hear him speak intelligibly. She had almost forgotten they were not animals. "But the Maje will hear of this."

"You are quite correct in that," hissed Seska. "He will hear how you have thwarted my plans at every stage, and have nearly deprived me of the means to seize the greatest prize of all. Your petty revenge will have to cool its heels for a while. I promise you, none of you will be disappointed in what I have in mind."

The Kazon looked skeptical, but picked up the stunned man and helped the one Janeway had injured to walk out of the cell. Blood poured down the face of the one with the broken nose as he whimpered from the pain of his shoulder. Chakotay raised his brows insolently as the Kazon left.

"You may have to shoot some of them before you're done," he said to Seska.

"Straightforward, aren't they? At least for Kazon. Culluh is a sneaky bastard, but these fellows' plots aren't very deep." Seska checked the charge in her stunner, and it vanished up her sleeve. "They may try again, and they'll work faster next time." She jerked her chin at Janeway. "We're going to need to keep her in sight or more secure, or find her scattered all over. And I need her for leverage."

Leverage on whom? Only Tuvok? Janeway wondered. Chakotay was unreadable just now. He refused to meet her eyes, and continually bit his lips. Under scrutiny from both women, he gravitated to the well- armed one. Sliding his hand around her waist, he leaned close and whispered in her ear. Janeway could not look; she could not bear to see him kiss the Cardassian again.

"Come on," she heard Seska say. "We'll lock her in my quarters while we take off. I'm not staying any longer like a rat in this hole. Tuvok won't do anything stupid, but where the bitch is concerned, he'll be--determined."

"What are we planning to do with her?" asked Chakotay casually.

Seska laughed. "Let's get her secured first."

EVEN THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS on this ship were not very large. Seska shoved Janeway hard as she hesitated at the doorway, and she stumbled over the sill and into the compartment. Chakotay hung back, allowing the Cardassian to do as she liked. Janeway hit the deck and stayed there for a moment, her thoughts as off balance as she was. What is his game? she wondered.

Perhaps Seska would leave them alone for a moment, and she could talk to him. Perhaps Seska was too smart for that. Everything he did, every expression on his face, was susceptible to several interpretations. At the very least, he had returned to physical intimacy with Seska. Willingly or not. Of all possible betrayals, that seemed the worst. Janeway knew her emotions were ruling her head, but her grief and anger, mixed with delayed reaction to her narrow escape from the Kazon, took itself out on Chakotay.

He is a criminal, she reminded herself, sprawled on the deck with Seska standing over her. A terrorist. He's set bombs, conducted raids, killed people. Does a man who can commit such acts outside the law have real principles? Might he throw in his lot with the strongest party to save himself? What if he agrees with Seska that the Kazon's might is his best friend in this quadrant?

Oh, Lord--and I let him conduct so much of the investigation of the stolen replicator--and B'Elanna, another former Maquis--no, please, no--did Seska take the fall for a larger conspiracy? Is my ship a nest of vipers? Dear God, I trusted him, and I thought he--

She turned and shot a look at her first officer. He no longer wore the uniform of the Federation, but something dark and anonymous. His face drawn and frowning, brow creased. He'd looked like that when he had first beamed over to Voyager months ago with a phaser in his hand. But he'd met her eyes, and had had nothing to hide from her. She had thought she had known everything important about him, months ago. She'd read his dossier, after all. But Chakotay was nothing like what she had expected when she had sent Tuvok after him. Janeway stabbed her gaze at him, hoping to catch some tiny clue to his real mind. Chakotay was no dissembler. Surely she knew him well enough to know what he was thinking--but Seska knew him better. If he was able to deceive a woman who had fought beside him and loved him for years, then he was too deep for Janeway to fathom. And if he was hiding loyalty behind those obsidian eyes, to draw out any sign of it would be perilous for them both. She would have to wait, and wonder.

Seska opened a cabinet and tossed Chakotay a pair of shackles.

"See those little panels in the wall opposite the bunks? Snap one open and pull out the ring. These will attach."

He stooped and did as she instructed, then tightened his lips, took a deep breath, and looked at Janeway. Instead of meeting her eyes, he focused on her chin, making a quick motion of the head to beckon her to him.

Janeway let her sickened fury show, but he was not looking at her face. He hefted the shackles and waited.

All right, she thought. All right. However matters stood with him, whether he wanted his captain a prisoner or not, she would have to behave as if she believed in his betrayal. One the one hand, it would help convince Seska that he was on her side, which would give him opportunities to undermine her--

And on the other hand, it would be the truth.

She sat against the wall, and Chakotay chained her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THEY LEFT HER where she was and locked the door behind them.

After a few minutes, the engines began to hum and throb, and the ship tilted upwards, then leaped like an arrow. Doubtless Seska would assume the same position in orbit opposite Voyager.

Janeway leaned her head against the cold steel behind her and allowed herself to relax and her eyes to close. A little peace and time to reflect, at least, for the first time in hours.

Physical situation: In orbit, aboard ship, locked in for protection as much as to prevent escape. Escape would be difficult in any case. This ship had no transporter, but it might have a one- or two-crew sled or dinghy. Even if she broke out, found one, managed to launch it, it could be rammed or tractored or simply shot down.

Shackled to the bulkhead. Her wrists were enclosed in steel bracelets with a magnetic lock like the doors. Unpickable by ordinary means, as there was no keyhole. Two rods connected with a universal joint linked the bracelets. The wall ring looped over the rods and held her hands in front of her about sixty centimeters off the deck, enforcing a sitting position.

Personal condition: Substantially sound. Recovering from stun beam, not much weakness or soreness remaining. Arm and knees bruised in struggle with Kazon. Inconsequential. No equipment, not even her hairpins, which Seska had wisely confiscated. Those pins could be very useful when properly employed. The tangled locks fell in her face, but she could not push them back with her manacled hands.

Anything in reach? She opened her eyes and examined the deck and bulkheads near her. More small panels that presumably covered rings like the one to which she was secured. Her hands could not reach the catches, prevented by the short, rigid rods. Her toes-- She swiveled around and brought one foot up. After some work, she opened one panel and saw that it indeed hid another ring. Not much use there.

Mental condition and morale: The checklist of options was beginning to calm her. A tangible problem to solve, a puzzle to work. She would need to concentrate on that to keep unwelcome pictures out of her mind.

A peculiar smell in here--acid, musky. Sick and sensual. Janeway saw the two bunks inset in the wall, one above the other. The mattresses from both lay untidily on the deck. What had happened before Chakotay had rushed out at the sound of her cry? He had looked unwell, but Seska had been purring like a well-petted cat. Janeway swallowed hard, pushing mental images aside. "Harry," he had called. He hadn't known that the other hostages were gone. Was that consistent if he was an ally?

No, but if he had been ingratiating himself, working his way into her trust, had not yet completed the process--

Once more, that could mean he was working with her, or against her. Janeway closed her eyes again in despair.

...CHAKOTAY WAS CALLING to her, through darkness neither of them could pierce. "Captain...please--help me," he pleaded. "I'm down here...look down--"

She was floating, lost and weightless, lightless...

"Here I am," he groaned. "Please help me..."

Voiceless...only her hands, and they were shackled...

She reached them out to find him. Her own body had dissolved into the substance of the darkness, and she let it spread out, endless, boundless, into the emptiness of the void. She filled all corners of the universe, and knew it all, and she found him huddled in a ball, covering his eyes with his paws, his ears laid back against his head. She embraced him, and stroked his fur, and he licked her face.

"Help me," he said, and his arms went around her, and he kissed her, and she felt his broad chest under her hands. "Help me, Captain."

"Yes," she replied, and he cried out with joy in the darkness...

"DAMN, I FEEL good." Seska suddenly stopped in the corridor and turned, right in front of Chakotay, so that he stepped into her arms. She was shaking, her breath unsteady, a febrile brightness in her eyes and in the flush of her face. Gripping his shoulders, she pulled herself up to him and locked her mouth to his. Her breathing changed to a hard steady rhythm and she darted her tongue against his closed teeth. But she tore away again quickly, before he could gird himself to respond, and dragged her hands down over his arms, clawing her fingernails through the material of his shirt. Chakotay could not help a grimace of pain.

Seska's fingers clamped around his wrists like manacles. For a moment he fought her, then jerked his arms above his head, bringing hers aloft as well, turned and slapped his palms against the bulkhead. Seska was pinned by his body and by her own grip on his wrists. He looked down at her, cursing inwardly, and kissed her savagely, bruising her lips against her teeth. She bit him, but he didn't stop until he tasted blood. Think like a Cardassian, he told himself. Do what she wants. The knowledge that Janeway wasn't entirely sure of him any more was grinding deep in his belly. The foundation of his own trust in himself could not depend on her--he could rely only on his inner resources. It was all up to him. And what was he doing to prove his own resolve to himself? This wasn't him, this impotent anger. No more of it. He twisted away from Seska, broke her hold and flung her hands from him.

"The sight of her in chains get you charged up, lover?" said Seska shakily. She stood with her back against the bulkhead, panting with her mouth open. "Maybe all that energy you couldn't use for months is breaking loose. Let it out. Doesn't that feel good? Sure does to me." She bared her teeth in a smile, her split lip leaving dark-red traces across them. Her head fell back and a shiver went through her. Chakotay narrowed his eyes as she rolled her body against the bulkhead, arching her spine and tilting her pelvis, her eyes closing as she took a great gulp of air. "Wonderful," she breathed. "Perfect." Her head lowered again and her eyes blinked open, still glassy and bright. "Let's go stick it to Tuvok," she said. "I want to see his face crack. Soon we'll have everything we need."

"What do we need?" Chakotay asked. Seska smiled.

"All that stuff I asked for, of course. Maybe a little something extra, considering who he's ransoming now. I want to see him wiggle on a pin. Don't you hate that Vulcan control? Don't you hate him?"

"He's not exactly a friend of mine."

"He betrayed you. He sent messages to Starfleet Intelligence. He sent them to the bitch. You must hate him."

"He was doing his job," said Chakotay. Now what was she getting at?

"I suppose. For him it was a job. For me, it was a vocation. You really didn't mind finding out that your trusted comrade was spying on you?"

"I minded that a great deal. But I trusted him as a matter of course, as one of my crew. It wasn't personal, and what he did to me wasn't personal. It was his duty as a Starfleet officer."

"I was sent to do my duty as well, Chakotay," Seska said softly, the tip of her tongue emerging from her mouth. "I picked up a little more than I bargained for." She licked her bleeding lip.

"Did you?" He kept his voice cool.

"Do you hate me, Chakotay?"

Ah. That was what she was getting at. "Did I ever act like I did?"

Seska moved forward and put a hand on his chest. "Kiss me again, Chakotay." He closed his lips firmly. Her eyes flicked to them, and she slid her hand up to his throat, ran her fingers over the sides of his neck, just where the muscles tapered up to his jaw. "I would never have realized that a Human could be so...appealing. But I always wondered what you would look like if you had been born on the right planet." He flinched, and quickly bent down to cover the lapse, closing his eyes. He had started this scheme and he couldn't abandon it now. Seska might not want to kill him, but Janeway... She had seen him betray her, her doubts blazoned on her face, but he was her only hope, he knew. Perhaps he could save her life at the very least.

Soft and swollen, lips met his. Gently, he thought, careful. Let her respond first, or pull away. Let her do what she wants, and then you'll know what she's thinking. She moaned and pushed forward, opening her mouth. He put his arms around her waist and lifted her slightly, raising her against the bulkhead, pressing her breasts to his chest.

Her voice murmured deep in her throat, calling up memories. Back along his path, struggling against the current to find still water, a quiet place to come to rest. Kissing her, he slid one arm under her hips and supported her, boosting her up, her muscular weight a burden. Chakotay stroked his other hand over her head and pushed the loose hair back from her face.

Gods-- The long hair in his fingers. Wet and tangled, wet clothing, the body's warmth seeping through. He had found a memory, only two days old. The clearest of any, though cold with pain. He clung to it for a moment, moaning helplessly into Seska's mouth, kissing her in a way that belonged to another. She gasped, encircling his neck with a strangling grip that broke his illusion. He shrank back and released her. Losing the support of his arms, she fell against the bulkhead, braced herself with her hands and stared at him. Chakotay stared back, breathing hard, shaken by the vivid image still fading before him, feeling the chill of sweat on his back and chest, running down under his clothing. Seska hissed.

"Bastard. Who are you making love to, Commander?"

Chakotay held her gaze, an odd sensation of new courage beginning to calm him. "Who are you?" he replied.

"Fair question," she said. "I suppose I can't blame you for some confusion on that score. Maybe I'll tell you someday." She laughed in a way that prickled the hairs on his neck. "In the mean time, we've got business to attend to." She whipped around and continued to the bridge, and he followed.

THE KAZON AT the consoles glared at him, but there was a hint of fear, even deference in their manner now. Strength and arrogance got on their good side, all right, as she had said. Chakotay glared right back and even managed a snarl. They dropped their eyes and turned back to their work, and although he felt like a posturing idiot, he also gained a little confidence. Perhaps they'd think twice about attacking Janeway again--though Seska was right; they would only work faster if they got another chance. Seska ordered launch, and the ship soared away again, the fiery tail of its engines lighting up the clearing. The little bridge was silent for many minutes after the ship achieved orbit, and Chakotay watched the stars move past the viewports and the sun emerge from the shadow of the planet. He sat in meditation for a while, then closed his eyes, retrieved the stone from under his shirt and prayed silently, palms cupped upwards on his knees, eyes moving under closed lids.

...SHE PUSHED HER nose into his hand, although it was entirely dark. She did not want him to stay here. Her hard head nudged him, and he stumbled in darkness. Then she was gone, and he turned helplessly, lost. But all around him, the darkness had substance. He called out into it, and lost his footing, and fell. Hunching over, he tried to hide, but he wanted to be found. Where was she? Had she gone to find someone?

Someone was coming. A cool hand on his back, stroking. He turned and held something formless, that gained solidity in his arms, and warmth, and specificity. "Help me, Captain," he said, and she answered, "Yes."...

When he opened his eyes and tucked the stone away, Seska was staring at him, and grimaced. "That's so strange. It gives me the shivers when you do that."

"It's how I live," he replied, and folded his arms.

"I know-- it gives you power. Power's good, no matter how you get it, I suppose."

"More than just power." He thought about the message, and looked out the viewport at the sun.

"Whatever you say. Tuvok will be back on Voyager by now," said Seska musingly. "He's got wounded to take care of, and he knows Janeway would want him to do that first." She checked a readout at the tactical station in front of her. "He's holding position, it seems--that's the logical thing to do. Well, he's probably stewed long enough, and we don't want to give him too much time for cooking up any plans." She rose and moved to the viewscreen, and Chakotay stepped to her side.

"What are your plans? Don't keep me in the dark. I might be able to help you solve this--"

"I don't have any problems right now, Chakotay. I've got all the cards. I'll let you in on my plans when you need to know."

"Tuvok's not stupid, you know. He's not going to fall--"

"You talk when I tell you to, and not one word before that," Seska snarled. Chakotay closed his mouth and stepped back. Seska worked at the communications panel for a moment, flipped the com switch and sat down.

"Seska to Voyager," she said, in a falsely sweet tone. "Please come in, Voyager." The screen flickered and resolved.

"This is Lieutenant Tuvok." Chakotay's eyes widened. Composed face, direct eyes, both familiar, but harder than he had ever seen them. Absolute control, without any clue at all to emotion, an emotion in itself.

"Oh, hello, Tuvok. How's that groin wound I sewed up for you after the raid on the Merthkat? I forgot to ask about it the last time I saw you." Her grin was lascivious.

"I assume you mean to negotiate terms for the return of the captain and Commander Chakotay."

"Oh, your memory's not that short, Tuvok." Seska reached out for Chakotay and seized his arm, pulling him into the field of view. "I don't think he wants to leave."

"If you will recall, Ensign, neither the captain nor I are inclined to believe that." Tuvok looked at Chakotay, then at his clothing.

"If she could, she might tell you she's changed her mind about that," Seska laughed. Chakotay looked down and tried to suppress his grimace.

"I would like to speak to Captain Janeway," said Tuvok.

"You're not going to. You're going to come back, and we're going to try it again, without the pattern boosters this time."

"I have no intention of exposing myself to abduction, Ensign."

"Don't call me that, you Vulcan slime. You cheated on me, I cheated on you. Was it a fair trade? I think I got the longer end of the stick. I know you'll do a lot for the bitch. You'll even sacrifice her trust in you. You got her the space-folder, but you lost her, because you went behind her back. But you'll do anything to get that trust back, won't you, Tuvok?" Chakotay saw no reaction whatever on the Vulcan's face. "You'd give your life, wouldn't you?"

"If I were to sacrifice my life in pursuit of my goals, the result would be moot," Tuvok replied.

"Oh, not this one. You'd die for her. Look, all I want is some machinery. You violated her precious Prime Directive for her sake once. So what's--"

"I cannot trust your word, Ensign. I do not see the captain, and the logical assumption is that she is dead."

"Oh, I can demonstrate she's alive. I'll bring her in here and let my crew make her scream for a while--" Seska's face was reddening.

Chakotay seized her shoulder and she broke off. "Tuvok," he said, and Seska hissed. He paid no heed. "Janeway's alive. She's all right for the moment. But the Kazon already tried to attack her, and I don't know how long we can keep them away. You've got to go along with this."

"I do not see the captain," Tuvok repeated.

"Listen to me! She's alive."

Tuvok focused on him, the flatness of the viewscreen image disguising the probing gaze not at all. "I must weigh your word more heavily than that of Ensign Seska, Commander," he said. "I will conditionally accept your statement as fact."

"This is Captain Janeway we're talking about, Tuvok! Damn your cold green blood--"

"The fact remains that I cannot trust the arrangements. I will make a counter-proposal. You will allow me to move over the horizon and into transporter range. You will drop your shields and allow me to beam Captain Janeway to Voyager. I will then send the ransom items to you."

"Oh, I'm supposed to believe you would honor an agreement like that?" said Seska. "Even if you send the stuff, you send a phaser barrage after it, don't you?" She was shaking with rage.

"With Commander Chakotay still on board, that would be inadvisable."

"Don't give me that shit. You don't care about him. If truth be known--"

"Every member of Captain Janeway's crew is precious to her." Tuvok looked at him again. "And I believe her impression is that the commander has served with...some distinction."

"Thanks a lot," said Chakotay. "Seska--I've got it on good authority that Vulcans don't lie. Take him up on it."

She stared at the viewscreen, her ridged nose twitching, her eyes glowing under her lowered brows. "No."

"Seska--"

"Stay out of my line of sight, Tuvok. You'll lie any day it suits you. I'll call again in a minute. Don't say I didn't warn you." Seska cut the transmission and whirled on him. "I told you not to say anything."

"You weren't making any headway with him--"

"No, damn him. The ransom's not the important thing here--"

"What is the important thing, Seska? What the hell are you planning?"

"First things first," she said, and stormed off the bridge, drawing one of her weapons.

"Seska!" Chakotay caught up to her and tried to seize her arm. She writhed out of his grasp and aimed the phaser at him. They stared at each other for several seconds, but Seska snapped the snub upwards and smiled fiercely.

"This may be all I get out of this mess," she said. "I have to make sure it's done right." She darted down the corridor again, Chakotay at her heels. At the door to her quarters, she took out her key, unlocked it, and flung it open. Janeway started from her crouched position, her chains rattling. Chakotay glanced at Seska, and saw the fury mount with the dark flush of her face. She brought the phaser down, extended her arm, sighted along it, so rapidly he saw it as one striking motion.

"Bitch," said Seska, and her thumb slammed down on the trigger.

CHAPTER TWELVE

HE ALMOST BROKE her arm, though she was strong. The bolt left a molten streak on the floor. Seska shrieked in pain, and called a name.

"Krast! Bring them all--" Chakotay hauled her into the compartment and slammed the door. No time to lock it--she was wrestling out of his grip, aiming the phaser again. He tackled her against the door, pinned her wrists, and kissed her, with all the passion he could muster. Janeway-- Seska bit his tongue, and he pulled away and fastened on her throat. The hand with the phaser he kept pinned, though she strained to free it, and he ground his hips into her, seizing one breast through the flexible armor.

"Seska," he groaned into her neck. "Stop it. This can't be part of your plan." A heavy thump resounded on the door. Chakotay thrust all his weight against it, holding it shut, holding her against it. "Send them away. Cool down." He found Seska's lips again and kissed her desperately, hoping at least to distract her long enough to make her listen to reason. He could not disable or kill her; the Kazon pounded on the door again, and would gladly take revenge. "Tell them to go. Listen to me."

His one weapon. Seska writhed and twisted, trying to free her arm. Chakotay held her fast, and heard a sound behind him. Janeway, her chains scraping against the ring in the wall.

Janeway-- Oh, gods, forgive me, Captain, his mind cried out. That I have to make you watch this, forgive me. Can you understand why?

He had another vision of her, smiling, wringing out her wet hair. He moaned, and embraced the woman he held, pinning her arms to her sides, and felt her lips soften under his. The door moved slightly and the impact shook them both. "Please--I'm trying to help you. Can't you see that? Don't throw away your trump card. Send the Kazon away. Listen to me."

Seska pushed back, letting him retain the hand with the phaser, and stared at him. Her eyes seemed blank, but the fury was receding. Another crash against the door threw it halfway open, and a bushy head emerged. Seska stumbled into his arms, then twisted to face the men forcing their way in.

"Back to your posts, boys. False alarm." She had to brandish the weapon to get the meaning across. When the door was shut again and locked, she thrust the phaser into her jacket and pulled his head down to hers. "Fine. You've made your point. But we'll discuss it later." She kissed him voraciously and began to yank at the fastenings of his clothing. He heard Janeway's chains clank.

"Seska--"

She had her hand down the front of his pants, groping at him. "Something the matter? I know you can get it up again, if that's what's concerning you." She glanced over his shoulder and smiled at what she saw. He could not look. Janeway-- This was his own fault. Seska's grin told him she knew exactly what the matter was. She opened his pants, pulled out his penis, turned him around to face Janeway, and dropped to her knees. "Coward," she said, and took him in her mouth.

Chakotay squeezed his eyes shut and shook with horror and fury, his fists balling up. If he pushed her away, she might just pull the phaser again. But how could he manage to do this in front of Janeway? He would have to, as best he could. He had no way to protect his captain from this outrage, and he knew his body would refuse to cooperate with another act of violence. Seska sucked him noisily, chuckling, and he felt so ill he wanted to pass out.

Janeway-- Think about Janeway-- This is for her sake. You can do it for her sake. He opened his eyes, and put his hands on Seska's head.

JANEWAY CROUCHED in misery against the unyielding bulkhead, covering her head with her hands. No, dear God, not here, not with her forced to listen. What worse torture could they devise? Seska had burst in so quickly that Janeway had not even realized her intent until the phaser had fired and Chakotay was struggling with her. Her chains rattled as she shook, hearing the sounds she could not shut out. Obviously they were in disagreement, and he counted on his physical attractions to sway the argument.

Good God-- Why had he made the holorecording? A peace offering, or with a darker purpose in mind? Why had he taken her to a private spot? Had he been waiting all this time for the right opportunity? Why had he--? Janeway raised her arm and looked under it. Seska was on her knees, shrugging her bodysuit off, her mouth on Chakotay's penis. His shirt was open to the waist, and he held her hair wrapped around his fists as she worked avidly.

Janeway covered her face again. That his body, which she had held and caressed so briefly, should be wrapped and enveloped in that monster's embrace, buried in her--

He was dead to her, then. Or, as B'Elanna had said, never even really existed. Had he taken on the Starfleet uniform only to gain time and a foothold? Had he kissed her, tried to make love to her only to exert influence over her? She had to see his face for confirmation. A false assurance, she dimly realized, but the coils of deceit wound her so tightly that her rational mind was smothered. Janeway opened her eyes again with burning tears streaking her cheeks.

Seska still clutched him, pulling his clothes away from his body, running her hands down his thighs, raking the golden skin with her nails. From this angle, her face was invisible. Only the long, light-brown hair--

He stroked it, pulling it through his fingers, caressing it with such attention...

Janeway looked at his face.

He was gazing directly at her. At his captain. Concentrating on her with such intensity she nearly gasped in surprise. When he saw her eyes on him, he flinched, looked away, then disentangled one hand from Seska's hair and made a gesture, open palm pressed to his heart and brought out again.

Forgive me.

Her heart almost burst with the realization.

Chakotay stared over her head, tremors of nausea fighting with anguished determination across his features. He looked pale and sick, unable to meet her eyes. He was forcing himself into something vile, and for her sake. Using his body as a shield to save her. Janeway slumped against the bulkhead, trembling. This was worse. That he had not betrayed Voyager was only what her own mind would have confirmed on calm reflection. The awful measure of devotion he had given the ship, and her, hit her like a stunning bolt. Could she have faced such violation herself as a duty of command?

The Cardassian pulled away from him and looked over her shoulder at Janeway. Her basilisk gaze held an evil glee. Janeway twisted away, her whole body painfully contracting, her anger incandescent. She bruised her wrists again jerking at the chains. What could she do?

"Make love to me, Chakotay," Seska whispered seductively, slid up his body, and peeled off her armored bodysuit. "Do it the way you used to." She dropped the suit to the floor and pulled off his remaining clothing. Janeway could see he was in no state to succeed, and no wonder. His gaze brushed hers briefly as Seska pulled him down on the mattresses with her. She tried to hold his eyes, and caught him for a moment. I understand, she tried to say. It's all right. Do what you have to. Perhaps that was a flicker of recognition before he moved down Seska's body and put his face between her legs.

"Aaahhhggh..." Seska moaned as he stroked his hands over her thighs. Her hips moved irregularly, and she flung her arms up over her head and rolled her torso back and forth, letting out little yelps. Chakotay reached up and drew her hands back down, and clasped them, his head moving in subtle rhythm as Janeway watched. Somehow she could not look away, as if that would leave him alone, abandon him to outrage. She clamped her lips together, breathing hard through her nose in fury, in pain at his violation, praying that he could bear it. At that moment, she could have shot Seska in cold blood, exactly as the Cardassian had meant to do to her. Had she been angry at treachery? She had not known what anger was.

Soon Seska was shrieking in short bursts, drawing her knees up and kicking at Chakotay's shoulders, arching her back with every breath and pulling at his hair. Her fingers slipped through the short strands; she could not get a grip. "Gods," she howled. "How did I keep my hands off you--oh, gods, Chakotay--" She shook uncontrollably, but could not seem to come to climax. "Damn--Chakotay--" Seska lashed her body like a whip, and fell back, panting. "Fuck me, dammit. You know what I like." He rose up and she kissed him, licking over his nose and mouth like an animal. "Come on, do it. I want you." Chakotay rolled her over and slid one arm under her hips as he knelt behind her, and stroked the other hand over her buttocks and downwards. "Chakotay, you bastard, you're trying to drive me crazy..." She began to shake again. "Please...g-gods..."

Chakotay's face was sweating, his expression grim. In spite of that, his hands moved gently and surely. His fingers pressed into Seska's body, and she began to rock back and forth on all fours, tossing her head so that her hair covered her face. Her manner had changed dramatically; her movements no longer had an air of calculation or taunting. Janeway wondered if she was acting, or if something deeper was actually surfacing. Her voice had a pleading tone. "I want you. Love me, gods, love me, please--it's been so long." Chakotay's face contorted. "That wasn't you a few hours ago. I want you."

"Seska," he said haltingly. "I--it's not--"

"Ohh, gods, please. Chakotay--I love you. Can't you love me, even for a little while? I love you."

"Seska--"

"Kattell," she gasped.

"What?"

"My--name--is Kattell. I told you...that story about a bone marrow transplant from a Cardassian--I gave you my own name--so I wouldn't forget it later if you asked again--"

"Kattell," he said, and she made a strange sound, like a sob.

"Chakotay, damn you, make love to me..." He looked up at Janeway in desperation, holding Seska's--Kattell's--hips and stroking his fingers steadily in and out of her, his big body crouched over her back. Janeway nodded at him, and tried to smile. He shook his head slightly, a trickle of sweat working over his cheekbone. She leaned forward and took a deep breath, calling on her strongest resolution, and tried to give it to him with her eyes. Courage, she wanted to say. I'll live through this. And so will you. Let me help.

A flush burned over his face, and he broke the look, then turned back and focused on her more intently. Janeway held his eyes, willing calm, both for herself and for him. Chakotay was tense and shaking slightly, but he began to breathe more deeply, a new quality creeping into his expression. Gradually his face relaxed, and his body, and his gaze began to drift over Janeway. Kattell began to buck and heave in his arms, her cries inarticulate under his ministrations. Her face was half obscured with her hair, arousal and frustration in the snarl of her open mouth. Chakotay held her closer and moved forward, lying over her as she sank prone to the deck. He did not look at her, but still at Janeway. An element of question, of supplication. What did he mean? Kattell seemed small under him, his body hiding most of hers. He began to move against her, body to body, chest to back, hips to buttocks. He had a purpose now, somehow, and even smiled faintly, a quirk at the corner of his mouth. His eyes, dark as boundless night... She had dreamed something, in her short exhausted sleep, and had reached out to help him. Chakotay believed in the power of dreams. Janeway settled back against the bulkhead, feeling the difference in the air, the wonder growing with every breath she took. He was watching, seeing the light dawn in her expression, the thought forming between them. They were not powerless. They could choose the nature of the act. It lay in their minds, and if they refused violation, if they could turn the meaning of an assault into a connection-- Chakotay's lips opened, and he searched her face for her consent, and she gave it to him. She saw him silently form her name, and his eyes closed. Relief, thankfulness, and slowly warming arousal transformed his face. The desire was meant for her, she knew, and the heat of it seemed to move over her, drawing her out to him, a conduit that freed her from her chains, seemed to put her spirit in another's body. Janeway knew he was visualizing her under him, and could almost physically feel the truth of it. For Chakotay, visions had reality and meaning, and dreams as much significance as the waking world. His conviction spoke to her, at the least. She felt herself go limp and heavy. For the moment, for Chakotay, she would not exist in this shackled body, but in the woman who lay with his weight on her, moaning softly, arching her neck against his shoulder, her long hair trailing over the deck. The strength of his faith held her there.

...SHE WAS SLIM and muscular, soft-skinned, fragrant. Her hair had come down, and tangled in his fingers. It was too dark to see her, so he must proceed only by touch. She was willing, and she would not push him away. Perhaps only this once. He must prove himself true in the only way he could, and give himself into her service, accepting the gift of herself as a sign, or a tool, or a weapon. The power of the gift made him tremble. It was a dangerous one, though he had first asked for it without fully realizing that. He must be careful, or it could destroy them both. Her body pushed up against him, and he lifted himself slightly, allowing her to tilt her hips and start a rolling motion that he immediately echoed. His penis was responding to her. Sliding between her legs, stroking through the slippery moisture, firming with every movement. He lifted again, and probed, and sank deep. He sucked in a profound breath through his open lips, that twitched into a smile while his head dipped, then flung back. Gasping, he held himself in quivering check, gripping her thighs convulsively.

"Don't move, Kat--" he blurted out.

JANEWAY FROZE TO SEE his face, its dark beauty never more visible. Fierce, soft, the teeth a pure slash of white. How could she ever have doubted him?

Chakotay regained control and moved slowly out with a tiny sound of wetness. He tilted his pelvis and entered again with a smooth thrust. Janeway gasped and drew her legs up, squeezing her thighs tightly together. Chakotay was not touching her in any way, but for an instant-- No, she was watching, her unexpected emotions were all from the sight before her. Pain and outrage drained away, were replaced with an empty ache, a wish. So powerful, her body slowly rocked with his movements. Her view of the woman with him was vague and cloudy, as if she were a faded holographic image. A waking dream, a trance. Illusion, except for him.

Chakotay was lost in communion, his expression smooth and peaceful. His head bowed and rolled, floating on his shoulders with his eyes shut. She was with him somehow in a way she could not begin to understand, connected as long as she could maintain her will and focus. All of it must go to give power to this illusion he has made for me, she thought. I will even forget that it is an illusion... I cannot let anything distract me, or make me let go, or turn away. Oh, his hands stroking over her sides, cupping her breasts, the surge of his hips against her...she felt what she saw, this might be as real for her as it was for Chakotay. Janeway let her head fall back against the bulkhead, her hands limp in the shackles, shuddering hotly so that her eyes would barely stay open.

A little faster, a little more vigorous--

CHAKOTAY GRIMACED NOW, and his nostrils burned with deep inhalations. He used his hands to pull her closer with each stroke, withdrawing almost to exit and plunging deep again with a curling motion and a small thrust upwards at the bottom of the rhythm. Again, and again, and again.

Her cries increased, to long, warbling, ecstatic sighs, and when he reached forward to run his fingertip along her folds, she exploded in a wailing shriek while rearing up, shuddering. Chakotay held her while her bucking subsided, pressing her thighs back against him, riding her to keep himself inside her. She went limp and sagged. He leaned forward, his palms against the deck while she lowered her head on her folded arms.

Now he pounded hard and fast, building up to his own climax that could wait no longer. Breathing loudly through set teeth, he smiled in elation as release crept up to him. The gift was made.

HER BODY RUNNING with perspiration, her hair damp where it touched her face, the slow pulses in her body gradually dying away. Janeway could barely raise her head. They had done this together, succeeded where one would have been powerless, gained an advantage-- And tangled their spirits, already touching, already poised to seek each other, in a way that might never come undone. Janeway smiled, suppressing tears, and Chakotay climaxed with a deep groan, struggling for air, his joy rending her heart.

Janeway watched him, his features working with a ecstatic glow, and wondered how she had ever left him, standing bereft and alone in the garden he had made for her within her ship. When he looked at her again with gratitude, collapsed and embracing the body beneath him, sweat shining on his forehead and shoulders, she almost wept for having wounded him so.

CONTINUED IN PART THREE

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