"Chakotay?!" I stand still to make sure I don't miss a possible response when I find my answer on the floor. "I thought you said wet footprints could ruin a laminated floor?!" He has awaited my arrival despite my telling him not to. The endearing thought expresses itself in an unfading smile. My mind is overflowing with todays succes and I am about to shamelessly relish in the unexpected joy of a family get-away. Prospects couldn't be better.
"Where are you?!" In my upbeat state of mind I have no intention of dealing with the mess so I hurriedly spread out the water with one foot and conveniently ignore that that doesn't have the desired effect. "Computer maximum lights." As soon as the hallway is fully lit I notice more footprints then just the three I had expected.
Curious, I walk into the kitchen while undoing my coat and notice the multimedia panel is still turned on. I bite my lip to hide my amusement at the thought of Chakotay walking off leaving the thing running. It had proven to be a daily recurrence. I had anticipated there to be unexpected guests which would explain the footprints and might be the reason for them still being here. Tom and B'ellanna are on an away mision so it couldn't be them. Perhaps Phoebe had come by to congratulate me on a vote gone well. I throw my coat on the kitchen table, knowing I would need it shortly, and head for the upstairs bedrooms. "Chakotay!?" I try again, louder this time. After opening a few doors and scanning some empty rooms it dawns on me that the house is indeed emtpy. Some toiletries are missing from the bathroom so they must have packed and left for Chakotay's sister, Sekaya, all as according to plan. A little disilliusioned about having to travel on my own after all I assemble some bare necessities in a travelcontainer on the bed and head down to get a fruity Beaujolaiswhine from the cellar -Sekaya's favorite. I reach the bottom step and turn for the cellar when I notice the as of yet unexplained footprints. I hesitantly follow the wet prints into the livingroom.
Something's off.
I step back towards the hallway to reevaluate my impulsive action but it's too late. A sudden force takes hold of me. Unwillingly, I clutch my arms and elbows tightly to my body when a strong arm rudely finds its way around my throat. It pulls me backward onto a tall, broad chest as I try to break free from the clench. My wriggling is to no avail due to the assailants overwhelming strength.
There are strange men in my house. At least two of them. My first thought is clear: the kids are fine, they're lightyears from here and Chakotay is with them.
I try to reach for something, anything, behind me, but I can't manage the awkard angle. The arm tightens and someone seems to be dimming the lights, one by one. I deperately try to cry out some demanding exclamation, but I only manage a bellowed groan. The arm doesn't seem to end in a hand that I can scratch, all I feel is thick fabric which my nails can't pierce through.
From an early training at the academy I remember that it takes about ten seconds to render a person unconscious once their carotid arteries are cut off.
I see nothing but darkness now and a tingling feeling is expanding from behind my eyes. I only have a few seconds left.
My mind is racing efficiently and at full capacity. Think, stay awake, what could be of help?
The footprints were still wet so they hadn't been here very long. They were tall, very much so. They're not Hirogen -I'm in the Alphaquadrant. The arteries under my jaw are about to explode and my forehead tightens. They might be Cardassian, no, not tall enough. Klingon? I feel like I have been hanging upside down. I've felt like this before. Mere seconds now. The voices don't sound familiar. Had I seen anyone? In about six hours Chakotay will be looking for me on DS9, that is, if he checks his inbox on the way there. He usually doesn't. I recognise the Klingon language. I hadn't noticed any damage to the front door, then again, it had been dark and I had been in a hurry. Klingon, they are definitely Klingon. I have to assume he'll stop choking me once my body goes lifeless. I probably wont be out long so the men will have to act fast once I do. If I let myself dangle he may let go too early. There are no weapons in this house and there's no main computer that can be ordered vocally to signal someone of my distress. There are tiny drops of saliva on my lower lip. The intrudors have to be gone by the time the kids come home, that's the main priority. Hang still, just hang still. If I get the chance I'll head for the sliding door that leads out onto the yard, it's quicker and makes a short route into the neighbouring garden. If only I had more time...desperate for more time. I wonder if I'm going to hit the floor.
I wonder who will miss me during the next four days...
=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=
"Where are you?" Chakotay catches me off guard. "Miles away." I admit as I turn to the shuttleschedule. "Our departure isn't listed yet, we'll be here for a while." He says.
I don't mind the delay and welcome some extra time for just the two of us. We sit down on a double seat in the centre of the crowded station. People from all over the planet gather in this hub and hurry from one transport to the other, trying to catch a newsupdate, cultural vid or quick snack before getting on the mainline to DS9. The place is anonymous and crowded at the same time. I like it, expecially in the state of mind that I'm in which, I suppose, would be best described as melancholic. I want to share an intimacy with Chakotay who feels distant and whose mind is obviously at least as far away as mine had been before.
"They'll be fine with it. " Out of the blue, he repeats the conclusion to countless conversations that we had had over the last months. "They'll be shocked like they have every right to be." He sighs. "But they'll be fine with it none the less."
He takes my hand in his and holds it in his lap. My hands are cold, like they so often are now that we are back on Earth and less often in controlled environments. He has taken up the duty of cupping my hands in his and blowing his warm breath onto them. He mindlessly repeats the ritual now and puts my hand back down on his lap where it lingers.
"I know they will," I say. He looks at me for assurance, assurance that we both desperately need. "I know they will." I repeat.
We are on our way to Voyager for what will be our last deep space mission. It has been six weeks since a beamingdevice registred the extra heartbeat in my abdomen. Unwilling, no unable to depart with our lifestyle, we had kept the unavoidable affair between ourselves. Our openly admitting our relationship, and the quick development it had undergone, was now long overdue. I'm not sure when or where exaclty it had happened, since these things are usually gradual, but with every day that we had spend in hiding, traveling Earth and giving in to pleasures we hadn't had for years, our affair had turned from a short gettaway that we would soon share with friends and family, into a secret pact that entailed the great confession that we were now about to give. It had all gone so naturally and time had flown by. At one point we realised that we were about to start a family while the crew was still under the impression we hadn't seen each other since our seperated departure from the last debriefing.
Most of our crewmembers had chosen to remain stationed on Voyager and would at least occasionally join in on missions. Our carefully built and protected community had somehow managed to remain intact and was now to be abandoned by our own choice. Our choice; the two people who, by default, had always kept everyone together and safe, were now about to voluntarily leave.
So we are here, sharing a cold bench in a crowded station, miles from the lush resort where we had spent our last night in anonimity. I want this moment to never end and revel in the knowledge that nothing has yet changed and the community still seems intact. A monstrous digital clock hangs before us, high above the ground. Like Damocles' sword every changing number is an unforgiving judgement and execution at the same time.
I feel tears welling up and and look away, not wanting to stain the moment. Chakotay squeezes my hand, perceptive as he is. "Tell me something" I say softly. I sound like I have a cold. He shoves closer and puts an arm around me. He holds me tight and the gesture seems to induce a steady flow of tears. "I'll tell you something," He says and kisses my temple. "The next three months will fly by and when we're back in Indiana we'll buy that house. The one with the stained glass and the wooden doors." I chuckle and sniff. "That is a nice house." I whisper. "We'll fill it with children,... and dogs,... and the smell of coffee." I smile at his suggestions. "And we'll stay in bed on sundays, doing nothing but solve the puzzles of the Sunday'Weekly-uploads. And whenever Voyager is in dock we'll invite the crew over for barbeques and tennis." I smile as he whipes the tears from my face. "It's just the hormones, you know." I assure him. "I know." he responds in a playful manner. "But it sounds like a good life." I say. We share a smile and continue watching the unrelenting clock that has now lost some of its power. I like it here on the bench with Chakotay. The finity of our shared moment makes the seconds all the more precious. The hour on the clock finally changes unceremoniously and we get up to leave.
I look back at the bench but in the movement I find that my shoulder hurts badly. I want to stay. I can no longer feel Chakotays arm around me and I start forgetting the colour of the bench. I don't want leave. The hum of the crowd changes to an incessant tapping that pulls me into consciousness like a rude alarm clock. I don't want to leave.
My shoulder must have slid out of its socket. I'm cuffed too high above the floor. So high that my right shoulder lingers mere centimeters above the ground. My upperbody dangles clumsily and heavily on my righthand.
Some vague person is standing over me and I blink in an attempt to sharpen my vision. Unfortunately he remains a blurr. I can tell he is unpatiently tapping a foot right next to where my head is laying on the floor. My floor. I'm still at home. Where was I before?
A thousand knives cut through my arm and wrist as I lean on my left elbow and let the blood flow freely through the previously cut off limb. I roll my shoulder and am relieved to find it's in its right place after all.
"Welcome back admiral." The figure says. A deap voice chuckles from afar.
"Get...Out...Of my...House." My voice lets me down, it's raspier than I anticipated.
"We will once you grant us a favour."
I sit up in an attempt to asses the situation. I realise they chained me to the grill above the fireplace in my livingroom and instinctively grab for the poke. Unfortunately my assailant had expected that and had removed the potential weapon.
"That's no way to treat a guest, admiral" he says flatly and unmoved. He sounds foreign.
With my hand still on the empty poke-hanger I rest my head against the plastered side of the chimney, welcoming its support. Closing my eyes for a moment I try to regulate my breathing. Adrenaline is raging through my veins and my heart is pumping frantically. Find focus, breathe, centre your mind; Chakotays face appears in a flash. He has no idea of this. I take a deep breath and brace myself. It had been a while since I had last needed to perform little excercises like these but they still proved effective.
Apparently they know I'm an admiral. There are no uniforms or rank bars in this room so they probably knew me since before they had come in. This was no random robbery. It would be idle hope to think they had only just recognised me.
I would be more comfortable if I were at a more equal level with the intrudor so I decide to raise myself up on the grill and stand straight. I'm not surprised to find I only come up to his shoulders. Now that we are mere centimeters apart he remains still as a statue and doesn't step back to respect both our personal spaces.
"Get out of my house." My commandvoice has returned. He exhales and looks me straight in the eye.
I'm relieved to find he's not Klingon but unfortunately a second intrudor who I caught pacing inpatiently up and down the hallway, is. He takes large, neanderthal steps while carelessly throwing in looks of disdain whenever he passes the open door. The Klingon is a clear heap of agression and strength. One knew what he was dealing with at the first glance.
This peculiar man in front of me is a whole different story. He's rather lean, has beady, blue eyes and his white-blonde eyebrows are set in a straight, horizontal line. His face is covered in a tattoo that lines his skull like a drawn on schematic. Detailed teeth cover his lips and cheeks. It makes a sharp contrast with his pale skin and goes down at least to his chest- and collarbone, which is as far down as I can see. His whole attire is pitch black and he wears heavy boots that are laced up to his knees. I can't find anything from which I can deduct his intention. He's bald and it occurs to me that he looks somewhat like a corpse.
"Like I said" He has a surprisingly low voice "...we need a favour." As he speaks the painted on teeth move organically like teeth aren't supossed to. He has a specific French accent that gives his bony appearance an extra sharp edge.
"This is unacceptable." I say "Leave." I consciously move nothing but my upperlip knowing full well that my steady face gives me an air of steadfast determination and might help me get through to him. I don't like to loose eyecontact but decide to quickly scan the room anyway. They had pulled all the furniture aside, presumably to keep me from reaching for anything. Even the rug had been rolled up. Telling off rowdy sounds coming from the kitchen, there is a third person rummaging through the cabinets.
My right arm started tingling due to the newly restored bloodflow so I roll my shoulder once again. To camouflage this sign of weakness and regain my composure I straighten my back and raise my chin.
"I believe a Starfleet officer should negotiate and compromise." The corpse says and he tilts his head slightly as he moves to my side, slowly and alertly. His posture reminds me of a panther who approaches his pray with the elegance of a ballerina but with a sinister promise of death common to predators. Even his eyes have catlike characteristics.
"You breaking into my house and chaining me is unacceptable, there is no room for negotiation." Presenting him with set facts might make him resign or at least acknowledge his attempts are pointless.
He's not pleased with this daring reply and expresses his frustration by letting out a sharp breath of disdain. I can feel the breeze in my neck. He's probably unstable so I decide to annoy him as little as possible. I turn my face to look him in the eye once again and continue in a softer voice "Whatever it is you're after, this is the least effective way of attaining it."
"We'll see" He hisses.
"Starfleet doesn't pay for hostages." I try calmly. "They will make use of all their resources in rescueattempts but they never give in to demands." My rationalizations preoccupy my brain and absolve my fear. "Let me go. I don't know you, you can still get away."
The Klingon must've heard for he turns away with a loud grunt. I had known it was likely to fail on him. Klingons went through with whatever mission they took on, considering failure or voluntary retreat an utter disgrace. As for the corpse, he looks like he means business as well.
"We know you though." He says, still breathing down my neck. "I know you have two little ones." He paused before adding in a whisper "I especially like the girl." I had tried to hold his gaze but couldn't help to shortly avert my eyes at that remark.
"Tell me their names" He continues.
"Get out my house." I repeat.
"Are their names worth bleeding for?" He had tilted his head to scrutinize my face and see what effect this threat would have on me. He is seizing me up. Had he been a snake he would launch his slithering tongue at me. I felt his body oozing cold air. They definitely haven't been here long.
"Get out of my house." I repeat again.
He stepped back. "I see..."
With our eyes locked on each other as if connected by a string, he made a half circle around me. His piercing blue eyes and white eyeballs stood out from his with ink accentuated eyesockets. He ressembled a panther in every way but beauty and dignity. Sitting down on the sofa that had been shoved aside and now stood in a diagonal position, he takes a rosary from his pantpocket and lets the beads glide through his fingers, the tiny cross hangs over his bony knuckels. I immediatly recognise it as my greatgrandmothers -where had I kept the thing?
"I need you to cancel the reforms" he says plainly.
"I can't, it's out of my hands." I have a feeling there should be more to his demands; he couldn't honestly think I have the influence to undo the complex process that was already set into motion. "There is no way, I simply don't have the power."
A loud clattering sound comes from the kitchen. "They sincerely hope you do." he says, nodding toward the door. The insinuation is a clear threat, just like the rosary is.
"I told them you would cooperate before I needed to let them take a crack at you. I have to tell you though, I hope you keep some funky utencils in there because they can get quite creative." His blue eyes glisten at the prospect.
Chakotay had better get here before they find whatever they consider to be of some sick use. I look at the door, wishing it would reveal him and none other, but the inane thing is untouched by my plea.
On voyager we had always been in close proximity of each other; the crew, the senior-staff, the command team; all in constant knowledge of the others whereabouts. The short lines connecting us had no longer been of a geographic or physical nature now that we were permanently stationed on Earth. I had felt this loss of security before but the new joys of familylife had easily outweighed this unatainable sense of safety. Standing here, utterly alone and a prisoner in my own home, I long for Voyagers internal sensors and the awareness of having my capable friends nearby.
He sighed. "Why don't you make this easy on all of us and do as your told. We'll be out before you know it and you can still save that wet floor you mentioned before. Sorry about that by the way, they're such rascals." Another threat. He winked in a flamboyantly but the painted on teeth and horizontal eyebrows remain fixed.
I sigh. The punk is getting cocky.
"I wonder," I try a different approach. "...what is it exactly you don't like about the reforms? With them it's obvious. I can think of dozens of policy changes Kronos has to make on the Federations behalf, and they may all be reasons for them to revolt." He was playing with my inherited rosary, much like a spoilt child, and didn't bother to look at me. "What's in it for you?"
He chuckled and clicked his tongue in a patronizing manner "Don't pry, admiral. It's bad manners."
"What exploration vessle have you invested in? What research project will be cancelled before you can pluck the fruits of whatever insight you were hoping for? I wonder..." The thought of his bad predicament being caused largely by my doing gave me a shamefull sense of retribution.
"Would it ease your mind if you knew?" He rolled the rosary in his hand and let the delicate cross dangle back and forth.
"It might." I wonder if I was getting somewhere or if he was just playing me.
"I don't want the Klingons to join the Federation. They're so loud." He threw his head back laughing but set his face in a deadly serious look the very next second. The horizontal eyebrows never wavered from their place and the cross was still dangling in a steady rythm.
"If that were true than I would consider it a personal victory that you were working together with them on behalf of this little act of terrorism."
At this he collects the cross and repositions himself on my sofa "Terrorism?" He asks with his thick accent that from now on will be the reference for every future French I am to hear "What an interesting choice of words." I had triggered something. I'm just not sure what it was.
He opens his mouth to speak but at that moment a beep fills the room alerting us that someone is at the door.
I must've looked up hopefully because before getting up and exiting the livingroom the corpse snapped "Optimism doesn't suit you, admiral."
I try to make the most of my time alone and inspect the handcuff. It's a crude old thing that's obviously not built for slender wrists like mine. The bolt can't be locked by the lever to prevent it from tightening so the round piece of cold metal was simply pushed through past the last detent. Unfortunately my hand can't slide through, I trt several times but fail miserably. If necessary I could try to break my thumb but decide against it for now. I pin down my action radius and find that nothing of signifance is within reach.
There has be something I can do.
I stand leaning against the fireplace and let the situation sink in for a while. In an epiphany I dig my free hand into the ashes of the firepit. Chakotay hates to throw away things and sometimes burns old pieces of furniture, a nail of some sort could have gotten lost in there.
As I'm mucking around in the fine ash I hear a panicky whisper from somewhere closeby.
"Hey... admiral...you don't know me, but I know you."
