CHAPTER FOURTEEN

            Kathryn watched the chronometer intently, the harsh red numbers glaring at her through the darkness.  Her body felt ramrod stiff, the rhythm of her heart frantic in her chest.  She'd summoned enough courage to send the transmission only a few hours before, disclosing some parting information regarding Durant's affiliation with certain members of that media organization as proof that she was someone in the know.  They couldn't discount her word, but hopefully, they wouldn't immediately discern her identity.

            It would be broadcast any minute now, or it may already have been.  Her eyes flitted sharply across the room, to Durant, hovering with gray-faced agitation over a console as he fretted over Empek's silence.  He would hear about it soon; even if he wasn't watching the viewer, someone within his campaign would notify him.  Tondra, maybe.  Hopefully not Empek.

            And hopefully, their scheming had already poisoned Empek's view of Durant.  If not, Empek would interpret her move against his ally Durant as a move against the Syndicate, and eliminate her crew in retaliation.

            But if she hadn't made that move, she would have condemned her best friend to the existence of a fugitive.

            She glanced down at her hands, twisted together in her lap.  The knowledge that she might just have bailed Chakotay out of the mess gave her a tiny degree of comfort.  She tried to ignore the stab of pain when she thought of him, not needing to be reminded of what she'd lost with him.

            She couldn't help but think over the mistakes she'd made.  If she'd been more receptive to him on Voyager, he would have stayed with her upon their return to Earth.  Durant would never have approached her, her family and crewmen would still be alive, Chakotay would have no price on his head, and she would not be sitting here with all their fates hinging upon whether the Orion Syndicate had been efficient enough to discover those files at Starfleet Command.

            For that matter, Seven would never have known a broken heart, B'Elanna and Tom would never have had to endanger their child, Admiral Paris would still be her friend.

            Then, of course, had she been more receptive, she might never have become the original Admiral Janeway who traveled back through time to get Voyager home.  They might all have been killed in the Delta Quadrant.  Chakotay might have died in her arms, rather than Seven in his.  They could have been assimilated.  Or devoured by a giant pitcher--

            *Enough!*  She checked herself before her thoughts strayed farther.

            If it all went according to plan, Empek would arrive, hopefully before Durant turned on the news.  He would be convinced of Durant's culpability and kill him.  She would have a chance to speak with him before he killed her, a chance to ascertain his plans with regards to her crew.  Would he still kill them?  Or would her death fulfill the thirst for vengeance of the Syndicate?  As far as he would be concerned, she'd complied with all his directives.  He'd have no reason to hurt anyone else.

            Kathryn knew she stood little chance of persuading him to spare her life.  She was the witness.  His witness.  As long as she lived, there was someone who could reveal the involvement of the Syndicate with the infamous Durant.  The reputation and relatively secure standing of the Syndicate would be deeply tarnished if it were associated with this failure.  It was their code, never to leave a witness alive.  That code was the sole reason the crime syndicate had flourished over the years when other less-than-legitimate organizations went down in flames.  They were, in their own twisted way, reliable.

            Her husband's voice cut through her reverie. 

            "Well, damned if I know what he's up to."

            Janeway looked up quickly to see Durant leaning against the console, his arms folded across his chest.  He hadn't left her alone since she'd returned, always watching her when she moved, ordering Tondra to sedate her when he left the compound or slumbered.  He was convinced it was the threat of Empek that made her his compliant prisoner.  He had no idea she remained with him only to ensure her desired outcome of this mess.

            She studied him closely.  His face looked gray and haggard, his usual vibrancy having deserted him.  His brown hair was damp with sweat.  The stress had driven him to repeatedly rake his fingers through it, and it rested in wet strands across his forehead, unkempt and sloppy.  His entire demeanor spoke of a despondency she hadn't yet seen on him.  She almost smiled.  It was a damn fine sight to see.

            "Empek is off somewhere..." Durant recounted wearily, "The general public thinks you've been kidnapped and I'm absolutely baffled as to how I'll pull this off...  Chakotay is nowhere to be found...  You've clearly figured out some way to hurt me, and I have no idea what it is, and no way to find out..."

            At the surprise on her face, he smiled, his expression surprisingly bland.  "You've been back the last few days, drifting around the place like a ghost. Even if it wasn't for that smug look I keep catching on your face when my back is turned, I'd know from something else.  You've always been transparent to me, Kathryn."

            She felt a brief flash of anger at his assumption, but quickly stifled it.  Let him operate under that assumption.  She would have the last laugh.

            He smiled suddenly.  The sudden shift in his demeanor told her he'd drawn up his mantle of charm and charisma.  When he turned to her with a reassuring twinkle in his eyes, her suspicion was confirmed, and she was immediately wary.

            "You know, it was so different just two weeks ago," Durant said thoughtfully, holding her eyes as he took a few steps towards her.  "Tondra, Empek, me-- hell, Kathryn, even you... We were like clockwork, always on the same step together, coordinated.  There was nothing beyond the four of us.  We created all this power, this incredible momentum from nothing– virtually spun hay and into gold.  What the hell happened?"

            Janeway stared at him silently, clenching her fingers on the armrests of her chair.  Bastard.  Always trying to inspire false dreams in others.  It wouldn't work with her.  He would rake no warmth from the bleakness of his acquaintance with her.

            As he watched her silently, something resembling affection flooded his features, and he drew closer to her, hovering just a few feet away.  His lips tugged into a smile, one containing no malice, merely a helpless sort of confusion that under different circumstances might seem endearing.

            "Why did it have to work out this way, Kathryn?" he asked her softly. "You and I, we could have taken on the universe together.  It didn't have to be this way.  Oh, you hate me," he said as she turned her head sharply away, "I know it.  You don't need to tell me again.  But I don't know how you can just sit there, so stoic and so… self-righteous… when you don't even comprehend what we've lost!  None of this business would have occurred if you'd just cooperated with me in the first place.  I never would have needed to bring Empek into our lives.  It all would have been different."

            She barked out a sour laugh.  Suddenly aware that he was standing and she was still seated, she rose up to her feet and circled around the back of the chair, resting her hands on the wooden back to assure herself a solid object remained between them.

            "You make it sound like you had no choice in the matter, John."  Her eyes were flashing with contempt.  "I suppose some unseeing hand of fate forced you to murder my family, did it?"

            Durant shifted his weight in agitation.  His voice was still patient.  "I did what I had to do.  I had a vision for the Federation, and it could have changed the future.  You complicated everything, Kathryn.  Everything.  I needed you, the Federation needed you, and you wanted nothing more than to throw road blocks in our path.  I only did what I could to clear that path…  Look at it from someone else's perspective this one time, Kathryn, just this once.  I saw a future that only you could help me achieve.  Can't you see that  the means justified the ends?"

            "That's where you're wrong," she replied quietly.  "The means are every bit as important as the ends.  You murdered seven people, people dear to me– and don't write it off on Empek's conscience; you ordered it, the blood is on your hands.  I don't know how many others were killed indirectly by you through the Syndicate, how many as a result of your actions."

            She leaned forward imperceptibly, the withering glare on her face one usually reserved for opponents on the other side of the view screen.

            "You were a Starfleet Captain once, John.  You were once a Starfleet Officer over a politician.  You should understand the responsibility that comes with power.  Don't you have any lingering feeling of human compassion?  Can you even comprehend a human life, the emotions, the hopes, the dreams...  All that you stole from those people? And for what?  A vague concept for reforming the government?  You chose a system over a human life?   The system *is* only human lives.  It's there for the very people you hoped to trick into electing you president, for the people you murdered in the name of your vision." 

She dropped back a step, suddenly feeling strong and relentless, for the first time in months.   "I would never have let you do it.  I *will never* let you do it."  Her eyes narrowed on him coldly.  "Your future is never going to happen, John, no matter how many publicity stunts you pull, not even if by some miracle you get your majority yet.  You will get up there and they will see through you and your empty reforms.  Just like I have."

            He sneered at that.  "See through me?  Jesus, Kathryn, you just want to twist everything to make me the villain here, don't you?  Hold on a moment before you play up your powers of perception.  You only 'saw through me', if that's even the proper term, after I had you in my hands.  You were as thick as anyone else."  His eyes narrowed.  "You always thought the power was yours, didn't you? You could take any man and stuff him into your pocket, including me.  All those months you smiled at me, flirted with me, you thought you were the one twisting me, when I was actually the one manipulating you."  His tone grew harsher, more contemptuous.  "I think that galled you as much as anything– losing control of the situation.  You just enjoyed your power too much, and it blinded you with me.  And now you talk to me about blood on my hands?  What about the blood on yours?  The future you eliminated when you changed the timeline, the countless aliens you slaughtered to return home.  Or does murder go by a gentler name when it's committed by you?"

            "No."

            The word was quiet, and easier for her to say than she expected.

            "No, it's still murder," she said quietly, watching as he drew a step back with an impassive expression on his face.  "I have as much blood on my hands as yours, more even.  You had your vision for the future, I had my vision of returning to Earth, and I was no better than you when I tried to fulfill my dream.  We're both despicable people, and maybe in a way I deserved you."  She glanced beyond him, out the window towards the looming sky scape of San Francisco.  "But they don't.  Not those people out there, not my crew.  Not my family."

            "Nice words, Kathryn.  You almost sounded profound."  He turned away from her and strode over the bookshelf dominating the far wall.  She could hear a faint trickling as he poured himself a drink, and after indulging in a deep swig of the amber liquid, he was again facing her.

            "Nice words... but I just don't believe you."  He stared at her over his drink, rocking the glass thoughtfully between two fingers.  "This is not for the people, not for your lost crew.  Your hatred of me is all about you.  You're about control.  You always have been.  Look at the people you kept closest to you on Voyager– a Borg drone and a Vulcan, two people as emotionally stunted as you are, and that pansy Chakotay... You could always just manipulate him at a whim, couldn't you?  But I was different.  I was opinionated.  I was self-aware.  I was–"

            "Deluded!" she broke in angrily.  "You always were, John.  That bullshit you'd spew about the future, it was laughable then and it's still ridiculous now.  If you were half the man in reality that you are in your head, you wouldn't have needed me to get you elected.  Oh, you lied well, you schemed well, but in the end, the only way you were able to reach these heights was by standing on my shoulders."

            He shook his head.  "I should have known this would degenerate into an argument.  I tried to talk to you, explain my point of view—"

             "You weren't trying to explain your point of view, you were trying to impose it on me!"

"--and you responded like you always do– belligerent, arrogant, stubborn.  I thought maybe the incident with Chakotay would change something, but it hasn't.  You're still an unreasonable, narrow-minded bitch."

Janeway just smirked at him, her eyes still cold.  "Can't win the argument, can you, John?  You have to resort to insults now."

            He raked his fingers through his thick brown hair in a show of aggravation.  "I'm done with this.  With you."  He whirled away from her and stalked towards the view screen, unaware of Janeway's sudden jolt of alarm.  "You know, maybe I should have just had you killed."  He jabbed his finger at the controls.  "Your Chakotay provided us with ample opportunity–" his voice abruptly cut off as he saw his own face on the view screen.

            Janeway bowed her head slightly, her eyelids sinking closed.  The gig was up.  The voice of the reporter droned like white light in the distance, raining down words that were right now shattering Durant's dream.  She opened her eyes to watch his expression intently, wanting to savor the destruction of his hopes before she paid the inevitable price for destroying them.

            Sheer astonishment washed over his features.  He stared, stock still, for a long moment, his eyes frozen in place, his mouth open just a crack in stunned disbelief.  Then slowly, gradually, anger began to glimmer in his eyes.  Patches of red made their way to his cheeks.  His features contorted, twisted, and his mild, almost genial appearance transformed before her morbidly fascinated gaze into the terrifying face of a monster..

            He slowly turned to face her, and his expression was murderous.  She could see his chest expanding and shrinking rapidly with his breath, his jaw fluttering with the rage pulsing through him.  His eyes were two embers of malice, hate, and for a moment, she was tempted to shrink beneath his gaze.  But no.  She wouldn't.  Kathryn stood firmly in place, meeting his eyes, holding her chin up.  She was determined to show no fear.

Something seemed to snap back in place within him, perhaps his politician's instincts responding the calmness in her.  Durant's expression froze into a stony mask, only the burning rage in his eyes revealing the effort it was taking him to hold his peace.

            After a long, hostile silence, he noted in an edgy voice, "That... anonymous source had information.  Information you knew."

            She returned his stare impassively.

            Disbelief fought with rage in his expression. "It's a lie.  That report...  You lied to them.  You know I didn't set it up..."

            "No," she said wryly, her voice laced with a mixture of triumph and tension.  "You had no hand in my abduction.  Terribly ironic, isn't it?  All the shit you've pulled, and your career will be ruined by the one crime you didn't even commit."

            He took a threatening step towards her, then paused warily.  His voice was almost a whisper.  "Why haven't you run?  You know I'm going to kill you."

            Janeway shrugged, the intensity in her eyes belying the airiness of her voice.  "No point.  We're both living at the point of Empek's dagger.  I'll die if I run, I'll die if I stay.  At least here I get to watch you go to hell with me."

"It won't work.  Your kidnapping-- a publicity stunt?  They'll never find your body," he said heatedly.  "They'll have no way to prove anything."

            "Does that really matter, John?" Kathryn asked sweetly, her voice shaking now with her sadistic pleasure at witnessing his distress.  "They have doubts about you now.  Even if you kill me, they will never see you without wondering about me, without questioning whether you're a murderer."  She smiled sourly.  "You'll never be elected.  You'll never reshape the Federation in your image.  That was all you wanted out of life, wasn't it?  Well, your life might as well have ended today."  Janeway smiled again, menacingly.  "It may well yet."

            "Empek will help me," Durant said raggedly.  "He'll find a way–"

            "I wouldn't count on it." Janeway allowed herself some further satisfaction.  "I don't think Empek will be giving you a great deal of help at all."

            His eyes widened imperceptibly, and he glanced suddenly towards the blank message center, then back at her.  "You did something, didn't you?" he demanded.  "What the hell did you do?"

            Janeway shook her head.  "That's too easy, John.  I'd prefer you find out for yourself."

            He did leap towards her then, grabbing her harshly by the shoulders and slamming her against the wall behind her.

            "*What the hell did you do?*"  he roared in her face.  "Answer me, goddamn you!"

            "Perhaps I could fill you in."

            The frosty male voice, controlled, precise, carefully calculated, sent a chill through Kathryn, and she immediately jerked away from Durant's grip with a sick feeling.  One glance confirmed her fears.  Empek loomed in the doorway, staring at them with impassive black eyes.  How had he–

            "Empek!"

            The strained cheer in Durant's voice was palpable, and he practically bounded over to his comrade, urgent and terrified at once.

            "Jesus, Empek, she's made a mess of everything," he began quickly, his words running together, spilling into each other.  "She spread a lie about me with the media–"

            "I know."

            "–and she's done-- God knows what else, Empek—but it's a mess...  We'll get rid of her!  I'm not sure--"

            "Calm yourself, Admiral," Empek cut in, his voice clinical and detached.  His gaze lingered upon Janeway a long moment, and her tension doubled when she could not decipher the nature of his regard.

            "Admiral Janeway has been very busy," Empek spoke up at last, sharing a brief glance with Durant before turning his charcoal gaze back at her.  "Between spreading lies about you with the media and trying to tarnish you with me–"

            Janeway's blood ran cold.

            "–she's been surprisingly effective at sabotaging your prospects for the presidency."

            Kathryn was horrified.  Empek had seen through the planted documents, the press release, and now it was over.  She had no grounds to plead on behalf of her crew.  The Syndicate would kill her crew.  She'd gambled everything and lost, and taken down everyone she cared for in the process.  She'd fucked up.  Oh, Gods, but she'd fucked it up. 

Tiny black dots began to swim before her vision, and she was overcome with a sudden nausea.  Her knees grew weak beneath her, and consciousness threatened to slip away.  Her hand instinctively clamped over her side, the other one slithering to clutch the wall behind her in support.

            "What did she do?" Durant demanded savagely, his voice surreal, as if at a distance.

            "She planted a number of files of yours with Starfleet Command, with the cooperation of Admiral Paris, of course.  Records you kept about my activities.  It would have been very possible for me to misconstrue the reason for their presence there.   I could have come to the wrong conclusions about you."

            Durant shot her an enraged look.  It had no impact within the sudden numbness of her heart.

            "We can still save this, can't we?" Durant said with a note of desperation.  "Empek, we'll get rid of her, and maybe if we find Chakotay–"

            "It's too late for that," Empek cut in.  He cast a long glance at Janeway.  "Even if we pulled this off, Admiral, I doubt this scandal would ever leave you.  You overplayed your hand.  The sympathy vote is notoriously fickle, you see.  The slightest suspicion that you had a hand in your own wife's disappearance, and you'll find yourself scrambling for even a primary qualifier.   I warned you.  Unfortunately, you failed to heed my words."

            Durant stared at him.  "Empek, I–"

            "There comes a point, Admiral, when an investment ceases to pay off.  Instead of vainly attempting to salvage this situation, I have an alternate scenario for you." Empek's expression had not changed, but his menace drew up about him like an invisible cloak.  His black eyes gleamed like cold marble.  "The Syndicate will turn our eyes from this campaign.  I will contact my superiors, and inform them about the incident with the files, only I'll omit the tiny detail regarding Admiral Janeway's hand in the matter..."

            Janeway looked up sharply, wondering if she'd just heard what she'd thought she heard.

            Durant was speechless.  "Empek..." he faltered.

            "I don't care to have this failure on my hands; I'd much prefer to have it on yours.  Admiral Janeway's manipulations have provided me with a fairly convenient way out of my commitment to you.  What use are you to me?  You're damaged in the eyes of the public, and soon will be irreparably destroyed in the eyes of the Syndicate."  Empek's voice dropped, "I'm sure no one would raise question if a distraught Admiral Durant mysteriously vanished, clearly fleeing the law after the media uncovers his role in the questionable disappearance of his wife.  You'll die, she'll die, and my involvement in this travesty of an investment will be lost in the pages of history."

            Durant's was still agape in disbelief.  The final card had fallen, and he was done for.  All the shit had officially hit the fan.  Kathryn felt an absurd urge to congratulate Empek on a job well done.

            And then she realized that something was not quite right here.  If she knew Empek-- which she didn't—or at least, if she knew his style, she realized he would simply have killed them by now and proceeded with his plan.  There was no need for all this talking.  She felt dizzy again, wondering what all this talking could be about.

            "Why are you telling us this?"

            Her own voice surprised her, hoarse, somewhat quieter than usual, but still emanating from her vocal chords despite her will to remain silent.

            Empek lazily turned his dark eyes towards her, and inclined his head slightly.

            "Conversation does lack a certain degree of… efficiency, doesn't it, Admiral Janeway?  You're correct if you've assumed I have something more in mind."  His gaze slid back to Durant, and his voice was again without emotion or inflection.  "I require from you, Admiral Durant, the names of everyone who might possibly know about those files.  Doctor Tondra is an obvious candidate, but clearly you've had a chance to involve others.  I need to know anyone to whom you've revealed our little operation—"

            Durant gave a high-pitched laugh, the peril of his situation now very apparent to him.  "You—you just said you're about to kill me," his words were spliced with frantic laughter, verging on hysteria.  "And you want me to cooperate with you?"

            Empek's smile was slow and empty.  "I could do far worse in addition to killing you, Admiral.  Infinitely worse."

            Kathryn felt herself smirk, finding the slightest bit of humor despite herself.  "The man knows what he's talking about, John.  Believe me."  She earned herself a curious glance from Empek.

            "And I'll, of course, expect the same of you, Admiral Janeway," Empek continued, turning his attention to her.

            Her expression barely flickered.  "I haven't told anyone.  When would I have had a chance?"  She darted her eyes sharply between the two men.  "You both made sure I had no opportunity."

            "And your…  Mr. Chakotay?" Empek pressed, his eyes narrowing.  "He would know nothing of your predicament?  You never confided in your dearest friend?"

            Kathryn hesitated.  "He's not my dearest friend.  I told you—"

            "You told me quite a few fabrications, Admiral Janeway, none of which—Admiral Durant!"  Empek's black eyes remained locked on Janeway as he spoke.  "I'm aware you're moving towards the phaser rifle in your bottom desk drawer.  I'd advise you to return to your former spot unless you'd prefer an extended, agonizing fate."

            Kathryn glanced over to see an admonished Durant quickly moving back to his place.  She wondered briefly if Empek even had a weapon on him.  But he had to have something.  And Durant realized it, too.  As she looked into Empek's impassive black eyes she knew with utmost certainty that he had it within his power to murder them both at this very moment if he chose.

            "As I was saying, Admiral, I've come to the conclusion that you were, and still are, much closer to Commander Chakotay than you led us to believe—"

            "What?" from Durant, in the background.

            "Perhaps," Empek added dispassionately,  "Even on intimate terms."

            "No."  The single denial was all Kathryn could manage.

            Empek's smile chilled her.  "The 'Angry Warrior', the hotel room in Italy, the tension at the gala…"

            "How do you know these things?"  Kathryn said in a whisper.

            "Perhaps these revive your memory?  And Admiral Durant, I notice you're still contriving a way to retrieve that phaser…"

            This time Janeway was too reeled to even glance at Durant, who for his part was denying his movement.

            Empek focused upon her again.  "Does Commander Chakotay know, Admiral Janeway?  Must I ask him myself?"

            She shook her head, staring at the carpet blurring before her through increasingly damp eyes.  "No."

            "What was that?"

            "I said no!"  She turned her head up sharply, the harshness in her voice surprising even her.  Her eyes burned.  "You're right, I did care for Chakotay.  I love him—do you hear it?  I do!  And that's why *I would never tell him.*  I would never involve him in this.  I couldn't help what happened on Deep Space Seven, but I could help what came out of my mouth, and I said nothing about any of this!"

            Empek studied her for a long moment, then withdrew, seemingly, to Kathryn's wishful thinking, satisfied with her answer.

            She turned and met Durant's incredulous gaze.  The man seemed to have forgotten his inevitable death for at least the moment.

            "Chakotay—you and he…?"

            Kathryn shrugged.  "Yes."

            "But *Chakotay?*"

            She sneered at him.  "Twice the man you'll ever be."  She glanced derisively at his groin.  "And I mean that literally."

            Durant took an angry step towards her, but Empek's voice interrupted,  "As amusing as this infantile display is, I feel, Admiral Durant, that you and I need to get down to—"

            All three simultaneously stiffened to attention, hearing the muffled sound of voices beyond the door.  Kathryn's heart jumped in her throat, wondering if the authorities had already found the residence.  This wasn't Durant's official home—how would they have…?

            The door hissed open.

"—can't go in there!"  Tondra's voice as Chakotay barged past her, practically shoving her against the door frame.

            Chakotay fell short a stride, his expression tightening when he took in the three before him, and Tondra's stress was apparent when she darted in front of him.

            "I told him he couldn't come here, he just let himself in—" she stopped, her eyes resting on Empek.  "Oh, hello, Empek.  I didn't expect you."

            "Doctor Tondra," Empek said cordially, inclining his head.  Then he raised his disruptor and vaporized her.

            Kathryn flinched, and somewhere she was aware of Durant's rapid movements somewhere behind her.  She could see Chakotay jerking back away from the screaming doctor who was even now dissolving within the predatory green light of the disruptor.  A split second later, she was gone.

            Chakotay stared at the blank spot where she had stood, his expression startled.  Kathryn watched him fearfully.  What was he doing here?

            "Mr. Chakotay, how convenient," Empek began.

            Chakotay suddenly seemed to remember himself and raised his phaser.  Empek was too quick.  The green ray of his disruptor sliced through the air and shot the weapon right from Chakotay's hand.  It was this instant that Durant whipped up from behind his desk and sent a vicious phaser beam Empek's way.

            The large, ashen-haired man staggered briefly from the impact, looking back towards Durant, thus allowing Chakotay just enough time to slam bodily into him.

            Janeway barely had time to fumble around for any sort of weapon when she suddenly felt her hair jerked, hard, from behind, sending her off balance.  The tip of Durant's phaser pressed bruisingly against her neck.

            "Move it," he growled threateningly.

            Kathryn intentionally stumbled against him, causing his hand to nudge just enough for the phaser to slip away from her neck.  Her hand darted up and wrenched at his wrist, shoving the phaser and his arm up in the air away from her, giving her enough leeway to twist free and slam him in the crotch, bend down, retrieve his fallen phaser, and blow his head off.

            Well, that was the plan.

            She stumbled against him, but instead of continuing to shove her forward, he practically lifted her and hauled her with him.

            This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.  Kathryn began struggling anew, kicking, twisting, but she wasn't strong enough anymore.  Captain Janeway could have soundly kicked this man's ass and then handed it to him.  Now, two years later and thirty, muscle laden pounds lighter, Janeway could only squirm against his grip, lolling her head backwards futilely to try to get a glimpse of Chakotay.

            For his part, the former Commander was faring little better.  He pounced on Empek's back, sending the other man to the floor on his belly, supposedly crushed by his weight.  He only then discovered the fallacy in tackling a man whose strength so surpassed his own.  Empek extended one arm behind him and grasped Chakotay's arm, wrenching it with an inhuman strength to send the dark haired man straight into the air and slamming to the floor beyond Empek's head.

            Chakotay lay there on a brief moment, dazed, wondering how anyone short of Seven of Nine could possess the strength to throw him from that angle.  He heard Empek's shuffling and pushed himself over.  The sudden, startled movement proved too much for his bereaved shoulder, and it gave way beneath him with a sickening jolt of pain.  He caught himself on his other arm and shoved himself up, panting and in pain, only to glimpse the other man already looming above him, having not broken a sweat.

            Chakotay swung his good arm back for a punch.  Empek blocked it.  Chakotay kicked, found himself shoved back.  He stumbled away from the other man, momentarily at a loss, inconveniently without the use of his right arm.

            Empek watched him with cold eyes and cocked his head to the side in a morbid parody of light-heartedness.

            "If that business is aside, Commander, I think we have some—"

            Chakotay's hand found a vase on the table behind him, and he tossed it with all his strength at Empek's head.

            The other man ducked away to shield his face just long enough for Chakotay to sprint out the door, darting down the hall and then hovering, staring back towards the door to Durant's chamber, waiting for Empek to pursue.

            But Empek never emerged from the chamber.  He evidently had something more pressing to attend to.

                                                *          *          *

            Hallway followed hallway.  Janeway had spent little time in this particular hideout of Durant's, but she was certain she'd remember if it had always been this large and elaborate.

            She'd given up struggling, opting to save her strength for a time it might do her some good.  Instead, she chose to be a dead weight for Durant to carry, hoping that might slow him down.  Then again, what did she need to slow him down for?  In all likelihood it would be Empek who emerged intact from the fight, who chased them down the corridor, and not the man she really wanted to see.

            Her throat constricted at the image of Chakotay, lying crumpled on the floor.

            Durant hustled her now into another room, hurling her blindly to the floor somewhere in front of him.  The impact jarred her, knocking the air out of her, and she'd just staggered to her feet when he punched the lights on.

            Ah.  The transporter mat.

            Durant kept his phaser trained on her as he circled around the panel and began tapping frantically at keys, glancing up sporadically to monitor her.

            Frustration mounted on his face.  His fist slammed against the console.  "Damn.  Come on.  Fucking hell!  The bastard tripped the control panel."  He looked up at her with a sweat soaked face, his eyes desperate.  "Kathryn—you know this stuff.  You know technology.  Get it to work!  Come over here, now!"

            "No," she said resolutely.

            "Goddamn you, do you know what he's about to do to us?" Durant shouted at her.  "Get over here and fix the goddamn panel!"

            "Go fuck yourself!"

            Durant raised his phaser and blew out the lighting panel over her head.  Kathryn instinctively ducked, and the room dimmed.

            "The panel," he repeated through gritted teeth, leveling the phaser at her.

            "Or you'll kill me?"  Kathryn asked lightly, suddenly overcome with an intense feeling of déjà vu.

            "If I have to!"

            "You don't need me to point out the fallacy in your logic, John," she  replied calmly.  "You kill me, no one fixes that panel."

            "At least I'll know I killed you," he rasped.

            "And I'll die knowing Empek's about to kill you.  We're even, in any case," she returned.

            He shook his head, his lips twisted in what was half a sneer and half a grin.  "You're awful eager to help Empek out, aren't you, Kathryn?"

            "As long as it's you, John."

            "That surprises me," Durant continued, his voice adopting a slickness.  "Considering that Empek's probably right now dashing your Chakotay's intestines over my oriental carpet."  Kathryn felt her expression lock up, and Durant sensed the weakness, and played on it.  "Yes, he's probably butchering him right now.  The man's an animal.  Do you want to know how he killed your sister?"

            "No," Kathryn couldn't hear this.  She hadn't yet read the accident reports, never planned to.  It brought back so much pain…

            "Or even your mother?" Durant continued relentlessly.  "Oh, this one was beautiful… he gave me a thorough recount…. Every. Little. Detail.  Would you like to hear it, Kathryn?"

            "No!"

            "She was at the local promenade when a vendor—"

            "Goddamn you!" Janeway screamed, and ripped forward.

            The movement was too sudden for Durant to raise his phaser again, and by then she had him on the ground, arms pinned with her knees, her fists slamming into his face.  Over and over and over, she pummeled him, screaming words incoherent to even her own ears.  Durant jerked and dislodged her.  She was too light to slam him down again, and she felt herself falling, falling what seemed like forever until her back hit the floor.  His body followed, crawling atop of hers.  She cried out with sheer frustration, pounding his chest, then ripping into wrenching sobs at her own helplessness.  She could have done this before she met him, before Empek, before the mind games and the loss.  She'd degenerated mentally and only now she fully realized how she'd degenerated physically.

            His hands battled her hands, his weight crushing her, and he didn't even bother to muffle the curses she screamed at him.  His fists slammed into her ribs, into her jaw.  His fingers compressed like talons clawing into her arms, and when his face brushed hers and his teeth suddenly dug into her skin, Kathryn's voice died.

            They were there, locked in place, and his teeth eased up, his lips pressing gently in their place, his tongue snaking out to brush against her wound.  It continued this way several seconds, the transporter room enveloped in a deadly perverse silence, and she realized through a suddenly foggy mind that this was all Durant had wanted all along in a companion—someone he could torture and love, someone who would accept that for warmth and would reciprocate with loyalty and affection.  How revolting.  Yet how frighteningly similar to her.

            She began to cry silently, and she let her head loll over to the side, ignoring Durant who seemed to be trying to ignore the rapid approach of the end of his life.

            He didn't attempt to rape her, didn't even try.  She felt his fingers, sometimes lightly stroking her skin, his lips lightly brushing her cheeks, her neck, but never quite touching.  His forehead rested against hers, his fingers twined briefly with her hair, his thumb touched her collar bone.  He brushed the tears from her cheeks, and somehow this was infinitely more perverse than if he'd raped her.  Bile rose in her throat, a sour feeling permeating her entire body.  She wanted to die.

            The transporter room was filled with the tiny chirp of a sensor array.  Durant eased off of her, slipping back and rising to his feet.  His gaze grimly found the door.

            "He's in the corridor now," he told her, as if she still cared.  He raised his phaser slightly.  "Standard settings might not do anything on this bastard, but I'm betting maximum kill will leave him breathless.  Hopefully for good."  A pause.  "There's another phaser in the control panel.  If you want to help…"

            Kathryn didn't move from her position on the floor, feeling dead inside.  She listened to Durant's breathing grow more and more rapid, the only sensor she needed to judge Empek's position.

            The sickening sound of twisting metal pierced her ears, and white sparks flew from around the door frame.  Durant drew an imperceptible step backwards, his phaser held aloft before him with the uncertainty of a cadet.  As Kathryn watched him, she felt her body rising without her conscious volition.

            The door blew in, violently, sending metal shards and sparks streaming into the room.  The force knocked Durant right off his feet and slammed him into a sensor console, his resistance ended before it had truly begun.

            Empek emerged amidst the rain of fire, like a dark phantom from some nightmare, and Kathryn drew herself to full height, clutching the phaser from the control panel.  It took Empek a moment to turn his eyes from the prone Durant to notice her, now holding the phaser trained on him.  For the first time since this business had begun, he was at a disadvantage, his entire body and his disruptor facing the wrong direction.

            "Syndicate policy, isn't it, Empek?" she asked dispassionately.  "Kill the witnesses?"

            The answer he failed to give confirmed it for her.

            "If I kill you now," Kathryn said slowly, "Before you turn around, then there will simply be others who come for me."

            "True," Empek replied evenly.

            "But then I'll at least have killed the man who murdered my mother."  She felt suddenly ferocious.  "It was you, wasn't it?"

            "Not personally," Empek replied simply.

            "But you had a hand in it."

            "Of course.  We all did."  He glanced down at her phaser briefly.  "You realize, Admiral Janeway, that I'm merely indulging you.  I could kill you even now before you could kill me."

            "You like us to believe that, don't you?"

            "It's all I can do," he replied simply.

She nodded along with him.  "Kill the witnesses."

            Kathryn turned then and aimed her phaser at Durant.  He only had enough time to register surprise on his face before she felled him with one shot to the chest.

            Empek was surprised, too stunned to move for one long moment, long enough for her to train her phaser back on him.

            She gripped his eyes with her own, noting coldly,  "You're the only witness here, Empek."

            He considered her for a long moment.  Then, for perhaps the first time since she'd known him, she discerned something in his expression.  A faint, grudging respect.

            "That's true, Admiral."  Pointedly, he holstered his disrupter.  Then, diplomatically,  "The Syndicate has been known, upon occasion, to be flexible with our policy."

            "Oh?" she said coolly, thinking he was referring to her.

            "If a witness can do us a favor, we've been known to, perhaps, forgive the witness their knowledge, provided they agree to keep that knowledge to themselves."

            She realized now he was also talking about himself.

            "And sometimes, should one choose to spare a witness, that witness can do a favor, say… lift a contract on one's head."

            "And ensure the Syndicate is out of the other witness's life forever?" Janeway demanded in a hard voice.

            "That, too," Empek inclined his head briefly.  "This blood is on your hands, Admiral…  I needn't be concerned with the ramifications of it."  He glanced over at Durant's body, and then spoke,  "Imagine, a scenario…  The corrupt politician embroils his unknowing wife in the more sordid side of politics, going so far as to order that wife kidnapped, forcing her into a publicity stunt against her will.  Word of the politician's plot leaks out, and he grows desperate and decides to murder his wife to cover his tracks, who, with her Starfleet training, dispatches of him and his female accomplice."  He rolled his eyes up to the wrecked door frame.  "I trust we can elaborate within that basic framework to explain this wreckage, and a few other complications I will evaluate."

            "And Chakotay?" she demanded.

            "*Your* accomplice, Admiral.  Perhaps he discovers he's being blamed for the wife's disappearance, and he returns to earth to clear his own name only to be captured by the corrupt politician.  Later he aids the wife in breaking free of her husband's grasp.  Something along those lines.  I trust you can come up with something."  A pause, then,  "We are agreed?"

            Janeway should have answered in the affirmative, but she found she could not lower her phaser.  It remained steadily trained upon him, locked in place, even now itching to destroy him.  She wasn't puzzled at her hesitation.  Every memory of this man reminded her of why she had to kill him here, now.  Her mother, her sister, possibly Chakotay.  He arranged it.  Her crewmen.  His fists administered those painful beatings, his mind devised  her terrible isolation.  Durant could never have done this without him; he never could have done anything.  It was all courtesy of Empek.

            Her heart began to thump rapidly in her ears.  She could kill him.  She couldn't let him escape, couldn't allow him to get away with this.  By God, she couldn't live with herself if she let him walk away.  She hated this man.  He had wrecked her life.  He had reduced her to this.

            Kathryn was aware of movement in the corridor behind Durant.  She glanced just beyond him to see Chakotay.  Her heart flooded with sudden warmth, relief.  He looked frazzled, walking stiffly, his forehead bloodied, but otherwise alright.

            He would accept whatever she did.  He would not deny her revenge on this monster, even if it destroyed his own life in the process.

            And that was why she could not do this.  If she killed Empek now, the Syndicate would pursue Chakotay until the day he died.  And her.  Everyone she cared about.  She had a chance to end it now, and however bitter it made her feel, she had to take it.

            Durant was dead.  That was enough.  That should be enough.  He was truly the one who did this.  Empek was merely the means.  Empek was the weapon Durant wielded, as empty and emotionless as any piece of equipment, and bereft of conscience or soul.  Durant's malice and Durant's aims lay behind everything, and he was the one that ultimately had to pay.  And now he had.

            Janeway lowered her phaser, still struggling with her own hatred.  She gave Empek a shaky nod, and he returned it.  With one last parting glance at Durant's prone form, he said,  "Good day, Admiral."

            He turned around and disappeared around the corridor, and the Syndicate walked out of her life.

            Chakotay entered the room in his wake, eyeing Kathryn cautiously, glancing at Durant.

            "Kathryn… is it over?"

            She nodded mutely.

            "I've spent the last half hour looking for you.  This place is huge, probably has some sort of sensor jamming device…"  His voice trailed off when the phaser slipped from her numb fingers and clattered to the floor.

            He approached her slowly, as though she were a wild animal, and she watched him come through weary eyes.

            "It's truly done?" he inquired again.

            "It's finished."

            "How did you find me?" she asked queitly.

            He grinned.  "Long story."

            She didn't press him further.  Her arms crossed over her chest as she stood staring down at Durant with haunted eyes.

            Someone else might have congratulated her on the victory, or said something cheerful and entirely wrong.

            Chakotay drew closer and gently touched her cheek.  "I'm sorry."

            Not sorry that it was over.  Sorry that it happened.

            Kathryn's eyes began to tear.  Her exhaustion threatened to send her sagging back into his grasp, but then she realized herself, and realized his hand still rested against her cheek.

Janeway flinched away from him.  He watched her with mild surprise.

            "We have business to take care of."  Her voice sounded firmer than she felt.  "This mess… among other things…"

            "Kathryn…"  He reached towards her.

            "Don't!"

He flinched this time.  Her words were harsher than she intended, but she was too exhausted, her emotions too raw to smooth them over.  She avoided his gaze, looking at the ground as she turned around.

            "Let's just get moving."