Chapter 6: Spies Among Us
"Thank you," Chakotay said, sitting down on the chair in the living room of the Paris home, "But, you really didn't need to do that for me."
"Nonsense Chakotay," Tom said, pushing the box across the table towards the Indian, "Me and B'Elanna are grateful for the assistance you gave us."
"It was no problem," Chakotay replied, "I am surprised though that Cardassian voles got into your home clear on Mars Colony."
"I have no explanation either," Tom said, then indicating the box said, "Aren't you going to open it?"
"What is it?" Chakotay asked.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Chakotay. It's a present! I can't tell you."
Chakotay smiled and picked it up. The box was small and white, with a lid on top. He pulled off the lid, and inside was a meditation stick from the Arapahoe on Earth. It was long and narrow, a feather tied to it by a skinny piece of leather.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, feeling the smooth wood under his fingertips.
"I had a friend from Earth called Charley One-Heart," Tom said, "He was a really great Arapahoe. He passed away last year and he gave me a couple of items. This meditation stick was among them. B'Elanna meditates but she never uses it, but I have no use for it. I thought you might like it."
"Thanks," he said, "But, I am Mayan. Not Arapahoe."
"Does it really matter?" Tom asked incredibly.
"Well, Mayans and Arapahoe are as different as Humans and Klingons," Chakotay explained, "Yes, we have the same type of bodies and same feelings, but our histories are so different and our legends and stories are very different. It would take weeks to go over it all."
"Perhaps one day we can talk about it," Tom shrugged, "But, I have to get to a conference with Janeway and the rest of the old crew at Denver."
"Really?" Chakotay asked in surprise, "Why wasn't I informed?"
"Well," Tom said, shrugging, "This doesn't really involve you."
"I don't care," Chakotay said, "I want to come."
"I don't think that would be a good idea," Tom said.
"Why not?" Chakotay asked suspiciously.
"It is last minute and you didn't bring your uniform," Tom reasoned, "And you need your uniform for this meeting."
"I didn't have one when I joined the crew either," Chakotay responded, "It wasn't a problem then."
"I still think it wouldn't be in your best interest to come," Tom said.
Chakotay frowned slightly. This was a little bizarre. Why wasn't he invited? He had been a key member of the crew. Then why were they barring him.
"Well," he sighed and stood, "Thanks for the stick. I think I'll leave then."
Tom stood and they gave each other a hug. How far they had come over the sixteen years they had known each other. How could they have seen this sign of friendship between what was once two people of opposing views?
"It was good to have you here Chakotay," Tom smiled.
"I was glad to have come," Chakotay nodded.
Chakotay had waited outside in the apple orchard near the house until Tom had transported out of his house to his meeting. He sighed and whipping the sweat from off his brow, he walked briskly back to the house, and finding that Tom had failed to lock the door; opened it and headed over to the transporter pad that Tom had installed in his bedroom next to his bed. If some disgruntled or fanatical worshipper of the Voyager crew tried to break in the house, it made a good getaway. And that had happened before.
And besides, even after all these years, his lust for his wife had not abated, and neither had hers for him.
He checked the transporter log and instead of the coordinates being in Denver, they were in Austin, Texas. That seemed odd to the Native American, who couldn't fathom why Tom would lie to him about their meeting place. From the looks of it, he had beamed to the massive yet abandoned theater near the Austin Public Library, one of the few public libraries on Earth still being used.
He pushed in the same coordinates and felt the washing feeling of the transporter beam as it transported him from Mars Colony to Earth.
Within second he was standing in a dark hallway. The side lighting had been busted by vandals and the paint was peeling from the wall. The carpet had been worn down, to the point that it was more wood then carpet he could walk on. Tubes and cables hung from the ceiling, like guts from the stomach of a gutted deer.
He turned his sharp eyes one way, and then the other, and to his right down the hall, he could hear movements of many feet. He couldn't see anything, except for light peering under a closed door. He stepped forward, and he smiled as the old floor boards were surprisingly firm. But, even as he stepped forward, the smallest sounds of creaking could be heard from the floor. But, it wasn't enough to draw attention to him.
Soon he was at the door, and he could hear voices now. Many people talking at the same time, greeting each other. Sounded friendly enough.
Well, Chakotay thought to himself, I guess I will surprise everyone and come in anyways.
He lifted his hand and reach for the door, but, just as his fingers touched the cold metal, a hand snaked around his mouth and clamped firmly on his lips and a strong arm pinned his hands and arms to his chest. He struggled but despite his physical well-being, he was unable to pry himself loose.
"It would be unwise," an aged voice whispered in his ears, "If they were to learn you were here."
Chakotay bent his head ever so slightly, and he caught the very tip of a pointed ear from the corner of his eye. The hand relaxed a bit around his mouth and he turned to see that it was a Vulcan, aged beyond years, wisdom in his eyes, commanding respect with just his presence and Chakotay's mouth dropped open and he said, "Spock?"
"Ambassador Spock of Vulcan to you," Spock said, the man the best type of legend, a living legend, "Now, we shall merge."
He took his fingers and splayed them across the side of Chakotay's face. The tips of the fingers pressed gently into the skin, and Spock began to murmur, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are merging. Our mind are one. Telepathy is no more than a shadow, thrown up by the closing of the mind. Open your mind, and hear the sounds of silence. The whispers of shadows. The thoughts not spoken, yet said."
Spock gentle took away the fingers, and like a heavy blanket thrown off, Chakotay felt naked, and reeled backwards, and would have fallen had not Spock been grabbing his arm. His mind was open now, to a new plain of existence. He could feel the thoughts of birds, sense the despair of a young lover spurned in the streets outside. It seemed to him like his time linked with the Borg, a residue which lingered still.
And yet, it was not at all like it. The Collective had felt like the order of gloom, the voices like that of machines. Whisperings, like the whispering of voices you think you hear right before a person falls asleep, but never truly hear them. This, though, was more like unto running outside into the grassy plains, or going to the top of a mountain on a glorious day, or going alone into a forest at noonday, where it is only you and the animals.
But, just as quickly as he was overwhelmed, control came to him. And, he was able to hear voices from behind the door. Wait, he could hear them. But, how was that possible? He could not hear them with his ears. But, they were imprinted upon his mind.
Tom Paris, a voice, distorted almost to beyond recognition, but he knew he had heard the voice before. But where? Report.
Tom replied, but again, it was through the mind. But, how is that possible? Chakotay thought to himself, Tom isn't telepathic.
The Romulans had taken Deep Space 7 and the three neighboring systems with little trouble, a distorted version of Tom's voice could be heard, They have sent two fleet into the area, and have followed the Dominion's orders to send a team of seven to Qo'noS to sabotage the supply shipments being sent to the Capitol City. They'll be there in two weeks.
Do they suspect that the changelings onboard their ships are actually Borg drones?
Not that I know of.
Good. With terror about to be unleashed on Qo'noS, the Klingons will turn in upon themselves to settle the issue. Their civil war will be the first step in the subjugation of the Alpha Quadrant to the Dominion. Now Janeway, report of the status of the Federation forces.
They don't even realize that the Borg have all but wiped out the independent drones that are fighting for their freedom. The Borg should be ready the invade the Federation in a month. They will use the Betazed wormhole to enter the Quadrant as planned.
Chakotay's mouth dropped open. Kathryn was part of this? Was this a trick? It had to be. He knew her. That was all that could explain this.
Good, very good. Now, we have a slight problem. Even as we speak, the Dominion's agents on DS9 have sent a coded signal to the Dominion, letting them know they have been discovered. There have been two casualties onboard, and two of the changelings have been hurt.
Are the other two dead?
Unknown as of now. But, this compromises the plans of the Superiors. The Dominion is already gearing for their attack, which will offset the invasion. They were not to be discovered for two more weeks, so DS9 is not ready yet for the taking. And what is worse, the Romulans near DS7 have destroyed two Starfleet ships. And, a Federation away team is still on the station, having avoided capture for nearly a week now.
We cannot destroy the weak here unless they are too involved in their own wars to deal with us.
Another mind spoke, but, Chakotay couldn't hear it as several others exploded in anger and surprise. But, after a few seconds, the voice, which he began to realize he had heard once before, in the Delta Quadrant spoke up. Sit down Neelix! Your body isn't the "spring chicken" it once was, as the humans would say. You have been holding your host body too long, and you know what happens when you start morphing again.
You are correct, a distorted voice of Neelix said, and Chakotay's mouth dropped, I'll get my injection.
A chair scrapped back and there was the sound of feet walking towards the door. Chakotay spun around and Spock motioned towards a room down the hallway. Chakotay followed him as they rushed down the hall, but not so fast that there would be unnecessary sounds. The door had been broken, so they were able to squeeze in and hide in the shadows.
What the freak just happened? Chakotay thought to himself, and Spock, hearing it through his mind, replied, You have just learned the plans of an all out invasion on the Alpha Quadrant, Captain.
I resigned from Starfleet a year ago, Chakotay replied, struggling against the urge to speak out loud. They could hear the sound of feet stop at their door, and Chakotay shrunk further into the shadows. Spock, on the other hand, scooted forward, his hearing better and he must have realized the direction the feet were pointed, for indeed, the door at the other side of the hallway, opened and the feet retreated.
What is that? Spock asked, and threw a mental image at Chakotay. An alien, larger than any human, bent, it's head the shape of a oval head, that curved back. It's hands had extremely long fingers.
Chakotay gasped and fell backwards, as suddenly, a voice screamed in his mind, The Weak Will Perish! And the great body of Species 8472 burst into the room.
Chakotay didn't quite know what happened next. He certainly didn't remember screaming for the transporter to energize them. All he knew was one minute they were there, about to face off with a member of Species 8472, and the next moment, he was back at Tom's house on Mars Colony with Spock, busting butt to get to his shuttle craft, trying to get away from there as fast as possible.
