notes: #plot twist

Part XIX: Revelare

The Kaminoan brought Chakotay to a small room near the fore of the ship. The far wall looked out on the stars streaming past in a blurred version of warp. A desk and two chairs stood to the right, and a low table surrounded by a low-slung couch and two more chairs filled the space to the left.

A Kaminoan sat behind the desk, dressed in the sharp grey of their uniforms. Two silver medals hung on his breast, and the uniform's stiff collar sported two gold bars—rank insignia, Chakotay suspected.

The Kaminoan escorting Chakotay snapped to a quick salute upon stepping into the office. The Kaminoan behind the desk nodded, then with one of his hands motioned them inside.

"Please," he said, looking at Chakotay, "take a seat." He then looked to Chakotay's escort and, with a nod, said, "You're dismissed, Cor'cak."

"Sir—" Cor'cak began.

The Kaminoan behind the desk's expression hardened, and after another second Cor'cak bowed low. "Yes sir," he said, and then backed out of the room.

"Please," he said again, looking at Chakotay still standing in the doorway and motioning at one of the two chairs sitting in front of his desk. "Take a seat."

Chakotay moved slowly, warily. He sat uncertainly, folding his hands in his lap, perching on the edge of the chair where he could leap to his feet in an instant.

The Kaminoan settled back into his own chair, folding both pairs of his hands in front of him. "Firstly," he said, "I would like to welcome you to the Bay'mar'at. I am Duv'ast Borlack, captain of this vessel."

Chakotay stared at him for a long, hard moment. Then, tersely, he asked, "What do you want with us?"

"I know this may be difficult to believe," Captain Duv'ast said, "but we in truth of fact are attempting to save you. Or, rather, to save your captain."

Chakotay's hands tightened around each other, knuckles turning white. "How is that?" he growled.

Captain Duv'ast sighed. "It is a long story," he said, "and one that involves a great deal of Kaminoan culture."

"I've got time," Chakotay said.

"Yes," Captain Duv'ast said. "I suppose you do.

"First you must understand that our culture is built around the Ancient Code of Honor. Part of this Code entails how we are meant to care for, and interact with, outsiders."

"Does that Code include capturing and experimenting on guests?" Chakotay asks, cutting in.

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Captain Duv'ast. "Though that is only a part of it."

Chakotay's eyes narrowed. "Then what is the rest of it?" he asked.

"We as a people are wary of outsiders," Captain Duv'ast said. "Because of this, before we are willing to allow any outsiders to pass through our region of space, we require that they undergo a series of trials that ascertain their nature of character and principle."

Chakotay remembered the Kaminoans in the hallway clustered around Kathryn. She was meant to stand the trials, the one Kaminoan had said, after calling her The Chosen. His hands tightened further still, until his nails dug scarlet crescents into the skin on his knuckles.

"Is that what is wrong with Captain Janeway?" Chakotay demanded.

Captain Duv'ast inclined his head. "The Chosen is infected with nanites. They simulate a grievous disease, which is the first step in the trials."

"Why?" Chakotay asked, voice thick, words straining past his teeth. "What could that possibly prove?"

"The crew's reaction to their diseased captain is part of the trials," Captain Duv'ast explained. "The fever also serves as a gateway to the rest of the trials. That is to say, it allows the nanites to integrate with The Chosen's mind, and thus initiate The Chosen's trials."

"And what are those trials?"

"They are tests of character," Captain Duv'ast explained. "They challenge The Chosen in a variety of ways, and their reaction to those scenarios is recorded and analyzed."

"Why weren't we told any of this before?" Chakotay demanded.

"As I said," Captain Duv'ast said, "the crew's reaction to the fever is part of the trials. How they react to their captain falling ill is very telling of their principles as a group of people. I must add, while we have had crews attempt to find their captain, none have succeeded—before you."

Chakotay remembered the spike of fear he had felt when he had been told that Kathryn had disappeared. He remembered giving the order for the crew to find her—to find her at any cost. He remembered the flush of relief that had washed through him when, after almost twelve hours, Tom Paris had contacted him to report that Kathryn was found.

"So all of this," Chakotay said slowly. "All of this was because of some sort of fucked up test to determine what kind of people we are?"

"Yes," Captain Duv'ast said.

"Fucking hell," Chakotay cursed. "Why didn't you just tell us?"

"We tried."

"No," Chakotay snapped. "No, you didn't. All you did was demand we hand over our captain. Which you should have realized by then that we weren't going to allow that. Even if our going to find her wasn't hint enough, that we were willing to destroy your ships should have been."

Captain Duv'ast's face creased into what Chakotay suspected was a frown. "Speaking of which," he said slowly, "I feel the need to warn you that not all of our people are pleased with the decision to retrieve her."

"Why did you?" Chakotay asked. "Were your trials really worth the lives of your people?"

"It wasn't just the completion of the trials that led us to hunt you down and retrieve her," Captain Duv'ast said. "The fact of the matter is, without our interference, your captain would have died. And that would have been in direct violation of our Cod of Honor—The blood of a guest is not to be spilled, for the blood of a guest is worth that of five."

"More than five Kaminoans were killed trying to capture us."

"I know," said Captain Duv'ast. "Thus why there are many Kaminoans unhappy with the decision to retrieve your captain at such a great cost—including some on the Kaminoan High Council."

Chakotay pinched the bridge of his nose and fought to keep his temper in check. "Is there anything else I should know?" he asked.

"The reason your captain has continued to grow more and more ill," Captain Duv'ast said, "is because she has not had a guide to lead her through the trials. A guide will of course now be sought for—but I warn you now that it may be too late. Never before have we attempted to integrate a guide in so late in the trials."

"What does that mean?" Chakotay asked.

"It means your captain may yet die. We will do all we can to keep her alive—but our aid may already have come too late."