Attention all personnel: Starfleet Intelligence is seeking information on the whereabouts of Commander Chakotay, wanted on charges of interfering with a Starfleet investigation. Any officer found to be withholding information on Commander Chakotay`s whereabouts will be subject to criminal prosecution. Warrant issued by Fleet Admiral Derek R. O`Shaughnessy.
"Damn it, Chakotay! "
B`Elanna Torres swore and hurled a computer pad back onto the desk in Chakotay's office, which she had, without many qualms, broken into. How could she have been taken in by his flimsy deception? She blamed herself for walking away, when a crumbling marriage and the challenges of new parenthood had proved to be too great a distraction. She had not taken Chakotay's alarm about Apocrypha seriously enough, nor the death of Owen Paris, which, according to the underground information highway, was attributable to a classified drug known as Psychic Sisters. Tom himself had wanted nothing to do with these rumours; Starfleet had always been corrupt, said he, and herein lay the proof. But B'Elanna understood now that this was not a realistic assessment, but rather the unnatural apathy of an embittered son.
She felt that she had had enough of this bitterness, and upon hearing the news of Chakotay`s disappearance, sprang into action. She learned that Captain Janeway had suddenly left Starfleet, and could only imagine that Chakotay had gone in search of her. B`Elanna`s first thought had been to organize a group - heaven knew that there were enough officers still devoted to Captain Janeway - but she thought the better of it, having no wish to attract attention.
Glancing around the bright, unimaginatively furnished room that contained no reflection at all of Chakotay`s true nature or personality, B`Elanna marvelled at what this man had been able to accomplish, perhaps by the sheer force of his will. She thought, fondly, of the days when she had been more than a little in love with him, and when he had been little more than a walking mass of contradictions. Chakotay, the peace-loving warrior, always ready to lay aside his weapons and fight with his fists. B'Elanna could never be sure what it was that had finally changed him, made him more steadfast and single-minded. In the past he could be quixotic, prone to sudden changes of temperament that she had once found exciting. But he had always been searching for something, some great grounding or levelling influence. And although he had clearly made his choice, B'Elanna had yet to be convinced that Kathryn Janeway could truly be this type of influence for anyone.
This was not for lack of affection, for B`Elanna loved her former Captain, but at heart she perceived Kathryn to be very much as she was herself – headstrong, and pathologically independent. As she slowly pieced together the reasons for Chakotay's deception and betrayal of Starfleet, B'Elanna could not help but feel the absurdity of his situation. For nearly a decade he had been trying to help this woman, and for exactly that amount of time she had shut him out whenever she really needed him. B'Elanna could not entirely imagine what going through another one of these torturous circles would do to him. For a time, at least, it had seemed that he had moved on from her, but evidently there had been no lasting tonic. Were there some things, perhaps, from which it were impossible to truly move forward? Were there certain bonds, as painful and fruitless as they might be, that simply could not be broken with anger and with the passage of time? B`Elanna wondered whether the long months of living in the desperate environs of Apocrypha had altered Kathryn's perception, and made her perhaps more able to distinguish between her enemies and her friends.
B'Elanna's own life, of late, had been a maelstrom of confusion and regret. As much as she loved her child, she felt somehow unsuited for motherhood, and as a result she frequently flew into rages, and felt herself clinging to the past. This was coupled with such a tremendous sense of guilt that she often turned on herself in anger for being so contrary and easily dissatisfied. She had been ambivalent about Starfleet upon her return from Voyager, and now committing to a career in that organization seemed unthinkable. Yet in the harsh light of day, she could see she did not really have anywhere else to go. More than anything, she needed a new rebellion, and at the last instant she had found one – if only Chakotay had not been so secretive, she thought, they might have worked together from the beginning.
Gathering her belongings, she rose to go, certain of her course of action. The discarded computer pad on Chakotay`s desk bore the words YouHaveaFriend.
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The message may have been cryptic enough, but B`Elanna had never forgotten about the tall woman in racing clothes who had been so eager to speak with Chakotay. Once again she found herself in the heart of San Francisco`s proletarian district, gazing distractedly into a club soda she was hoping could pass for liquor. As it turned out, she did not have long to wait. The woman called Cassandra, with her black racing gloves and a large scar obscuring the right side of her face, sauntered confidently into the bar and ordered her drink of choice with only a pointed glance. Presently she noticed B`Elanna, and her lips curled slightly upward, although it could not be said of her that she was smiling.
"I've been waiting a long time for you, " she said in her low, slightly rattling tone. Then she took her bottle by the neck and walked past B'Elanna to the back area of the bar, which was all but deserted.
"So I was right then, " said B'Elanna, following, "you're Chakotay's friend."
The woman turned, and looked at B'Elanna with mild surprise. "Friend, " she repeated. "Well I wouldn`t say so. " She tilted her head to the side. "But if friendship is what you're after, I can make you a deal. That`s what most friendships are, after all, or at least, the good ones. "
B'Elanna frowned. "I thought you were going to give me information. "
The woman threw her head back, in a gesture mimicking laughter. "You all seem to think that because we know some fancy tricks at the helm of a ship, and aren`t afraid of a little harmless fun, that we somehow have the inside track on the future of the world. Well, I hate to put a dent in your latinum, Lieutenant, but you couldn`t be farther wrong. One day you'll come to think of us as we think of ourselves; as victims of an unjust society that creates and destroys its own participants at will. But there is a terrible danger in that, because of course one day even the weakest victims will revolt, and we are by no means the weakest. And that, Lieutenant, is where your friendship comes in. "
"I'm not sure I follow. "
Cassandra's eyes roamed assertively around the room, then she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a tiny container filled with blue liquid. "What you're looking at, " she said, bringing her face very close to B'Elanna's, "is the holy grail. That is, if you happen to be a Borg hybrid created by Starfleet to engineer the perfect soldier. It's what keeps us alive, makes us who we are. But apparently some of the big guns at Administration weren`t too happy with our side projects, and they've decided to cut us off. Oh, I see. You've heard those rumors about our little death wish. Well it`s all true, we don't mind it terribly – except that we believe everyone has a right to live and die on their own terms. That is why Apocrypha is waging an all-out terror on Starfleet, and we won`t stop until everyone gets just about as much death as they're looking for. I can't tell you what happened to Seven of Nine, and I can't tell you where you can find your precious Captain Janeway, either. But I can keep you and your friends safe from harm, if you do a small favor for me and my friends. "
"And what would that be, exactly? "
The woman took hold of B'Elanna's hand, so roughly that B'Elanna stiffened. She pressed the vial into B'Elanna's hand, and held her fist shut.
"Findoutwhatthehellthisis, " Cassandra whispered.