The Ring

Chapter 7 – Motive

The Voyager crew who had stayed in San Francisco met frequently at the Thirsty Leprechaun, joined now and then by other crew who made contributions to the hunt for the Maquis and the covert investigation into Starfleet leaks about Voyager as and when they were able. A few hints emerged. By accessing restricted transport records, Vorik learned that the Maquis had been transported to a prison colony in a nearby system, where conditions were reportedly humane, but security very tight. An ongoing debate developed over the wisdom of staging a prison outbreak rather than or in advance of exonerating the Maquis.

At first Janeway resisted the advocates of a prison break, but as weeks passed without any useful new intelligence about Admiral Paris's death and only the sparsest updates from Starfleet, many of them obtained through covert access to secure systems, the crew grew both depressed and desperate. Janeway was masterminding a series of one-person raids on low-security Starfleet facilities and the homes of individuals she considered most complicit in the conspiracy against the Voyager crew. By accessing secure data through the personal connections of highly placed Starfleet personnel, she could both acquire new information and cast doubt on their loyalty to Starfleet.

The small apartment assigned to her by Starfleet was the picture of orderliness and calm, as a front for the counselor assigned to her and whoever else might be observing. In an underground storage unit several blocks away, she kept data, maps, and lists. She performed tricorder sweeps every time she entered the apartment or the storage space and preferred to hold conversations on the windy streets of the city, while walking fast.

All the crew were recognizable from the phony newsvids, which appeared now with less frequency, as if their goal had been achieved. Janeway in particular was the target of frequent verbal, and occasional physical, attacks by strangers who had swallowed the newsvid storyline about her. Starfleet had issued an official denial of the newsvid version of events, but failed to follow up with evidence or any counter-publicity to restore the crew's reputation. In public, Janeway had begun to wear loose clothes and hats that hid her now-famous hair. She had lost so much weight that she was less recognizable even without the disguise. The crew took turns spending time with her, supporting both her raids and her public attempts to prove that Chakotay could not have murdered Owen Paris. They brought meals for her to ignore and tried to fill the role of caretaker that Chakotay had made look so easy.

Janeway came home alone late one evening, after another series of fruitless meetings with supposed friends and allies who wanted more than anything not to be involved in Starfleet's latest scandal. She shoved the door shut with one foot and began to deposit items – handbag, tricorder, food left for her downstairs by Sam – on the small table beside the door.

"You're smaller than I pictured," said a soft female voice from a few feet away. Janeway snatched up her bag to reach for her phaser, but when she turned toward the voice she saw a phaser already trained on her in the hand of a tall, dark-haired woman in snug black clothes.

"Sveta!" Janeway cried. "How did you get in here?" Sveta had changed her hair from the highly noticeable platinum blonde she'd been when she came to meet the returning Voyagers at the highly staged family and friends welcome, but Janeway wouldn't forget the face that had stared at her so curiously at the reception. In the midst of chatter and chaos, Chakotay had tugged Janeway under his arm for a quick introduction to this person who had figured so prominently in his past.

"This is my wife, Kathryn," he told Sveta, brushing Janeway's temple with a kiss. With pride in his voice, he clarified: "Captain Kathryn Janeway, that is. I'm so glad the two of you can finally meet."

Sveta had offered a friendly handshake and warm smile, but Janeway had not forgotten how her expression changed the moment Chakotay turned his head to look for other Maquis in the crowd. Her eyes narrowed and she examined Janeway like a new recruit who wasn't passing muster. The look was gone in a heartbeat when Chakotay turned back to them. At the time, Janeway wondered if she'd imagined it. Now she knew it had been real.

Lowering her phaser, Sveta gave a small, close-mouthed smile. "I have a few Maquis tricks left. I just came to explain a few things. I thought you deserved that, and Chakotay asked me to. It just turned out to be harder than I expected to get near you without being seen."

"Chakotay? You've seen Chakotay?" Janeway lost all interest in the phaser in Sveta's hand and stepped toward her urgently. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"I have no idea where he is," the woman answered. "I haven't seen him since the day you disembarked. But I know what we talked about that day. I know why he killed Paris."

The command mask that fell into place on Janeway's face at the mention of Admiral Paris was a credit to her training, but it only made Sveta smile. "Surprised?" Sveta asked. "I don't think you have any idea how much control I have over him."

Janeway shook her head and glared. "You're a liar," she said, "and you're cruel. I've lost my husband, but I'll get him back. I don't need to listen to this. Get out. However you got in."

Sveta fingered her phaser. "I was disappointed, I admit, when he introduced you. I always thought he and I would come back together when the time was right. But there was nothing phony about the marriage. He loves you, all right."

Janeway's face twisted in a sneer. "You came here to tell me that he loves me but he tried to kill me? I would have expected more convincing lies from you, Sveta. Chakotay always spoke of you as such an effective operative."

Sveta chuckled. "I am an effective operative, but this isn't an operation. This is what you might refer to as a friendly call, if we were friends. I'm doing this for Chakotay. Don't be a fool. He didn't try to kill you. He stunned you lightly and made such a feeble attempt to frame you that you were exonerated within a few hours. He protected you, as best he could under the circumstances."

Janeway put a hand to her forehead and shut her eyes. "Unbelievable. I need a coffee." She moved toward the small kitchen on the far side of a counter that separated cooking from living space.

When Janeway turned on the lights, Sveta looked around the small apartment. "Quite the minimalist, aren't you?" she remarked.

Janeway glanced up from her coffee machine – the only item visible that marked the apartment as a place where someone actually lived – and shrugged. "It doesn't matter where I live. It's only temporary, until I" – she stopped and turned back to the cup filling before her. "It doesn't matter where I live," she repeated in a dull tone.

"Don't you want to know why he did it?" Sveta asked as she took a few steps to face Janeway across the counter.

Coffee in hand, Janeway turned back to her intruder with a wry look. "I'm sure you're dying to tell me. Go ahead. Tell your tall tale."

"I will," Sveta said. "But first, you tell me why you think I'd lie."

Janeway scoffed. "Why you'd lie? Why wouldn't you? You've admitted that you had plans for him. Why wouldn't you try to convince me that he'd betrayed me? And that's just the blindingly obvious motivation. I have no way of knowing what else you might be up to, who might have sent you."

Sveta smiled for real this time. She set her phaser on the counter but didn't let go of it. "Touché. But I'm not lying. When I told him what Paris had done and gave him the technology to hide his biosigns and get inside Headquarters, he made me promise I'd come to you if he was caught, to explain. I keep my promises."

Janeway took another sip of coffee. "Do tell. And what do you claim Owen did?"

"He authorized the destruction of Dorvan V by Cardassia," Sveta said. Her face was steady and cold. Janeway felt herself freeze in response, as if the air in the room had suddenly dropped twenty degrees or so. Sveta seemed to sense the advantage she'd gained, and pushed on. "Did you really believe that such an act wouldn't have scuttled the treaty if the Federation hadn't approved the attack in advance? Paris decided that it was the lesser evil, compared to the destruction that further warfare would cause. One of our spies confirmed it several years ago, but I wasn't briefed until about six months ago."

Janeway stepped up to the counter. She set down her coffee but held the cup in both white-knuckled hands. "More lies," she said to the cup. Her voice shook. "I've known Owen all my life. He was one of my father's best friends. He wouldn't do such a thing."

"No," Sveta said in a less frosty tone. "It's the truth. I'm sorry. I'm not a monster, Captain. I wouldn't come here and say these things just to cause you pain. I would rather not have come at all, but I promised him."

"You have no proof," Janeway answered in a stronger voice. She raised her head. With one hand, she began to lift her cup, but the liquid sloshed and she lowered it back to the counter. "And even if what you say about Owen were true, Chakotay is no murderer."

Sveta suddenly seemed to notice the phaser still in her hand. She stowed it in a jacket pocket and clasped her hands in front of her. "No, he's not. But he's a man of duty. He swore when he joined the Maquis that he would hunt down and kill those responsible for the attack on Dorvan V. When I told him what I knew, and showed him the proof, the documents, he understood instantly what it meant. I can only guess that he thought he might be able to get away with the assassination and go back to you. I think that's what he hoped for."

Janeway lifted the coffee toward her mouth again, this time with both hands, but her arms made jerky movements. Coffee spilled, then the delicate porcelain cup cracked under her crushing grip and hit the counter with a tinkling of small, broken pieces. Janeway stared at the wreckage.

"You're bleeding!" Sveta cried. She rushed into the kitchen and snatched up a towel from the counter to press it to the long gash on Janeway's hand. Janeway recoiled at first, then let Sveta cradle her hand while she covered her eyes with the unwounded hand.

"Please go," Janeway begged in a rasping voice, trying to turn her body away even as Sveta peeled back Janeway's fingers to peek at the cut. "Leave me alone."

"Where is your med kit?" Sveta demanded. "I'm not leaving you alone bleeding like this. It's deep."

"There." Janeway nodded at a low cabinet behind her. Sveta went for the medical supplies and came back with a dermal regenerator. Janeway was clutching her hand to her chest, against the bloodied white towel. With new gentleness, Sveta drew Janeway's hand toward her and healed the wound with a meticulous, practiced motion.

"You've done this before," Janeway said, without looking up.

"Once or twice," Sveta answered. "If I got anything out of my time in the Maquis, it's field medic skills. You should have that looked at by a medical officer to be sure there's not any deeper tissue damage. You have to be especially careful with injuries to the" – but Janeway interrupted.

"Injuries to the hands, feet, and head. Yes, I know. We had a few injuries aboard Voyager."

"Sorry," Sveta said. "I forgot who I was talking to."

Finally Janeway raised her eyes. "Before. You were telling the truth, weren't you? Or at least the truth as you know it?" she asked, very pale. Sveta only nodded, with clear, earnest eyes. "But you don't know for sure that he did it, do you? You only think that he did, because of what you told him, isn't that right?"

Sveta opened and closed her mouth, then nodded again. "Yes, you're right. I can't know for sure that it was him. But it fits. I gave him the biodampener to hide his movements, and the bioemitter that would create a sensor record of his presence in his quarters even when he wasn't there. I gave him a motive. And he left you effectively unharmed. Who else would have done that?"

Janeway put a hand on the counter for support. "I don't know," she said. She took a few breaths before continuing. "I don't know, but I'll find out. I'll clear his name, whatever it takes."

Sveta stayed close to Janeway, looking her over, reflecting. She bowed her head and said, "He was right about you. I didn't understand him when he told me."

"Right about what?"

Sveta took the bloodied towel and cleared the coffee and porcelain shards from the counter, then threw the whole mess into the recycler as she backed away from Janeway and edged toward the door. Cleaning up evidence, fleeing - her actions seemed habitual and practiced. She paused just short of the threshold. "He said you were his peace. He said you make him a better man. I thought he was thinking with his dick like he always used to. I thought he wasn't thinking clearly and I needed to bring him around." Sveta paused and shook her head. "But I was the one who wasn't thinking clearly. I'm sorry, Kathryn. I'm sorry I brought this upon you."

Sveta's hand was on the door when Janeway cried out, "Wait!" Sveta looked back at her expectantly.

"The biodampener and the bioemitter. Can you get those for me?" Janeway said with new urgency.

"What do you want them for?" Sveta asked, ever-ready with suspicion.

Janeway hesitated. She was hardly prepared to tell Sveta about her and the crew's covert raids for Starfleet information. But there was another reason, just as plausible, easier to share. "I have the data recorded on the attacker. If I had the technology you gave Chakotay, I could determine whether or not it's what was used to scramble the sensor grid. I might be able to prove whether he did it or not."

Sveta considered for a moment, then nodded. "I'll get it to you," she promised. Without a sound, the door opened and shut, and Sveta was gone. Left behind in the sterile apartment, cradling her newly healed hand against her body, Janeway sank to the kitchen floor. She sat still for a very long time, leaning back on the smooth cupboard front, staring across the living space at the chilly, distant night sky. When she awoke, she was stiff and cold, lying on the kitchen floor. The only evidence that she hadn't dreamed Sveta's visit was the pink, freshly regenerated skin on her hand.