Chapter Two
"Good afternoon, Admiral, I hope I'm not disturbing you... Yes, I'll have that report on your desk by o-seven-hundred tomorrow... And you, sir. Chakotay out."
Leaving his beautifully furnished office for the day, Chakotay stole a quick look at himself in one of the long windows. He wore the new grey Starfleet uniform, and it was pressed and spotless and fit very well around his broad shoulders, giving him a look of diligence that was quite appropriate.
When he had gone to B'Elanna and showed her what he had become, she had slapped him. Every member of the Voyager crew who had been made aware of recent developments within the organization despised him. He was the worst of traitors, one who would abandon the people with whom he had served for seven years for the reward of a comfortable lifestyle. He had never been so hated in all his life, and it amazed him how easy it had been to accomplish this feat. He considered it to be an indication of the times. Nothing, these days, was as fragile as loyalty, and lovers and soldiers alike were almost expected to betray. He had become a casualty of war, another weak-willed officer whose allegiance was for sale and whose head could turn at any temptation. And everyone, including his closest friends, believed him to be fully capable of this behavior.
It was night when he left the Starfleet grounds, and proceeded south on foot. The modest walk did not tire him, and he watched the ratio of uniformed men and women to civilians gradually decreasing, until, finally, the uniforms were harder to spot. He had walked across the Golden Gate bridge several times since Voyager landed, and it had become a strange pilgrimage for him to mingle with the tourists, to gaze at Sausalito, where he had never been, and Angel Island, where the Advanced Starship Design Bureau still had its offices. Sometimes, he had been recognized by people who had followed the news headlines about Voyager, and they stopped him and asked all kinds of nonsensical questions. But tonight he was hoping for quiet, indeed he required it. He walked at a steady pace for nearly a mile, with his back straight and his eyes forward, and then when he was confident of being alone, he casually paused, going closer to the edge, to get a better look. The wind was disturbing the water fiercely tonight, and it glared and shimmered as it moved underneath the bridge. Chakotay remained there, quite still for several moments. And then he continued on his way, quietly dropping his comm badge into the San Francisco Bay.