Ch. 8

The sun was shining; it was a perfectly beautiful afternoon in San Francisco, and Chakotay felt sick to his stomach. People were going about their daily routines, conversations about shopping and children's antics washed over him as he sat at the small table, pretending to sip the coffee in front of him. One woman's comment about wishing she could find a single moment of peace and quiet away from her family almost made him overturn the table. He wanted to yell and rage at her that his family was missing and that he would give anything, anything to be able to see them again. To know they were safe. But he managed to hold his tongue. She had no way of knowing just how damned lucky she was.

"This isn't exactly the clandestine sort of meeting we used to have."

Chakotay looked up when the rich smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. Sveta was standing with her hand on the back of the chair opposite him. He hadn't even seen her approach.

She noticed. "You're losing your touch. Has Starfleet turned you soft already?" He stood and embraced her. She hugged him back and then held him at arm's length. "I saw on the news about Kathryn and Madelyn. Have you heard anything?"

He gestured for her to take a seat. "No, nothing yet."

"I'm surprised that I haven't heard more about them," she said, leaving the comment open-ended. She always had been quick on the uptake.

Chakotay nodded solemnly. "Then I guess you were also surprised to hear from me?"

"Yes," she stirred the coffee that had been placed in front of her, "and no. Your call came out of the blue during a time that you should've been extremely preoccupied with the investigation, and not taking time to meet old friends for coffee." She took a sip of the hot drink. "Then I began to think about why you would be meeting me in particular."

"And did you come up with any reasons?" he asked.

"A few. Some more incredulous than others."

He snorted. "You might be surprised at the incredulous ideas I've heard lately."

"I might not be." She leaned back. "Out of all the people in San Francisco, you chose to contact me in connection with the disappearance of your wife, an acclaimed Starfleet admiral." She mused for a moment. "So tell me, Chakotay, have the remnants of the Maquis banded together to kidnap your wife and child?"

He'd always admired her directness. "According to Starfleet, yes, but you were acting under orders from me."

"I see," she said. Her tone was still casual, but she had begun scanning the people moving around them with more scrutiny. "And what's our motive this time? Has Kathryn Janeway declared war on what's left of our home worlds?"

"No, nothing like that." Chakotay heard the bitterness in Sveta's words and couldn't help but feel the same. The war may have been over and the Maquis pardoned, but it didn't mean old wounds had been forgotten. They simply had scar tissue grown over them. On occasions like this, when they were poked and prodded, those wounds still hurt. "They have nothing, and they're grasping at straws to make it look like they're doing something."

Sveta chewed on that for several moments before shaking her head. "It doesn't make any sense, though. Kathryn is an advocate for the former Maquis. We'd have nothing to gain from her abduction. Not to mention we aren't exactly a group anymore anyway. We don't have the resources to do something like this."

"Who does?"

She looked at him sternly. "Just what are you asking me?"

"I need your help," he said simply.

"I don't know what it is you think I can do to help you. I run a shelter. I help veterans from the war." She leaned towards him, lowering her voice. "I don't run underground anymore."

"But you still have contacts, don't you?" She glared at him and refused to answer. "Starfleet isn't going to find Kathryn and Madelyn. They're looking in all the wrong places, and I…I get the feeling…"

"What?"

It was his turn to lower his voice. "I don't think they're trying to find her."

Sveta snorted. "Well, there's your answer."

"I don't follow."

"I've met your wife, Chakotay. She's got spunk. I like her." Sveta gave him a brief smile that disappeared quickly when she continued. "Over the years, I've also met a lot of those admirals she works with. They don't like spunk." She threw her napkin on the table. "If I were you, I'd start by investigating them."

He'd considered the ramifications of what she was implying. "I'll need help to do that."

She scoffed and pushed her chair away from the table. "If you were anyone else, Chakotay." Shaking her head, she stood and scanned the café again. "I don't know if I'll be able to find anything; my contacts aren't what they used to be, but I'll…I'll ask around."

"Thank you, Sveta."

"You always were trouble, brother." She leaned down and kissed him on the head. "Give B'Elanna my regards."

Chakotay watched her walk away. He'd expected that enlisting her help would have given him a little more hope, but all she'd done was raise more doubts in his mind. Could she be right? Was Starfleet really behind this? He surveyed the crowd as well, and noticed more than one pair of eyes shift away from him. Placing his napkin on the table, he stood to leave. It was time to find out who would gain from Kathryn's disappearance.


Milo activated his viewscreen and sighed impatiently. "What do you want now?"

"This is not going to just go away."

"Well, that's your problem isn't it? You were supposed to handle that on your end."

"I've tried. I have control of the investigation, and I've focused attention away from us and onto her husband."

Milo shrugged indifferently. "Then what's the problem?"

"She was gone for seven years, and her family didn't give up on her. Now her family includes all those people that served under her. I don't think they're going to give up easily. Not without some sort of definitive proof."

"Proof of what? That she's dead?"

"I thought you said she wouldn't be…"

"Oh, what do you care? You got what you wanted out of this." Milo leaned away from the viewscreen, considering his options. "So Janeway needs to be dead before Starfleet will leave this alone?"

"Not Starfleet necessarily."

Milo waved the man on the screen silent. "I don't want anyone to continue looking for her. Starfleet or otherwise." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Fine. I'll make some arrangements. The last thing I need is for someone to go poking around in my businesses." He jabbed a finger towards his call screen. "You just make sure the bodies are found in a timely manner."

"I…will."

Milo scoffed at the hesitation he heard. "You really are an amateur at this, but let me make one thing perfectly clear. You screw this up now, and our deal is off. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Don't call me again."