Chapter Five

A small, rail-thin man, his features invisible in the dark, paced rhythmically around a concrete pole in a parking lot on Marina Boulevard. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he wore an expensive watch that glittered occasionally in the light of passing vehicles. He glanced down at the watch, and his shadow moved along the concrete pole accordingly. Doors on low-flying shuttlecraft opened and closed in the distance.

A second set of footsteps joined his, and grew louder. The man who entered the garage was tall and broad-shouldered, the outline of his Starfleet uniform just visible near his collar and around his waist.

"You must be Chakotay," said the small man.

"That's right," said the other. "And you? What do I call you?"

There was a short pause. "A friend."

"That much you've said. How am I to trust you if you won't tell me your name?"

A knotty hand flew upward, in a fleeting gesture of disapproval. "What does that matter? You can call me Balthasar, but that's no guarantee you can trust me."

The small, rail-thin man took several steps closer, in a display of power that belied his physical size. "I risked my life to meet you here tonight, and that's what you need to know about me."

"Well, why did you decide to meet me here?"

"Because I refuse to stand by while these men, if you can call them that, rise to power. To that end, I've come to give you what you want: information, on Kathryn Janeway. I've come to tell you that her life is in danger."

The other raked his large hands through his hair. "I wish I could say that surprises me. What do they want with her?"

"I can tell you that, and I can tell you where she is. But it won't help."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Commander," said the man who called himself Balthasar, sharply, "that you can't save her. No one can. She's been targeted."

"By whom?"

"By the men I've spoken of. They have targeted Janeway, and right now all she is doing is falling further into their hands. She believes that this group of criminals, this Apocrypha, can help her. But she has to return to Starfleet. Do you understand? She must return, and reclaim her captaincy, or else she'll be destroyed as well."

"What are you talking about? You said you have information for me, fine. Tell me where I can find her."

Balthasar chuckled, and the flash of a passing shuttlecraft briefly illuminated the lines around his narrowing black eyes. "Commander, I'd imagine that there are quite a number of women who would value this type of devotion from you. Why become obsessed with the only one who doesn't?"

He could not, of course, see the other man's reaction to this taunt, but he could feel it, seeping through the concrete floor.

"You, and people like you," said Chakotay, "probably think you know everything about everyone. You keep files, you have access to personal information. But this isn't about Janeway at all, is it? It's about you, leading me where you think I want to go. Why should I believe you? What do you have to gain in all of this?"

The small, rail-thin man stepped even further forward, and withdrew his other hand. In it was a computer pad, which he offered. "This war will continue to be fought whether you decide to believe me or not. Maybe you should ask yourself if doubt is a luxury you can afford."