DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters, belong to Star Trek: Voyager, and Paramount. I removed them from their confines, but I promise to return them to the Delta Quadrant in good health when I'm through. No profit is being made from this, it is only a method of exorcism. Feel free to reproduce and/or archive, but please keep the disclaimer/author and E-mail information intact. For any use, other than personal, please ask for permission before replicating this.
Copyright 1998 by NODA [email protected]
NOTE: Technically, I suppose this falls under the category of an Alternate Universe. I don't particularly care for that term, as it implies it's one that's running parallel, and concurrent to the established Trek Universe. This story takes place in approximately the same time-frame as *Voyager,* being slightly before Janeway heads out after the Maquis. Some of the characters from the show are here, only the situations are different. The inspiration came from questions Janeway asked herself about her attraction to Chakotay in my story "Read Between The Lines." Other than the catalyst for this story, there is no connection.
DEDICATION: I have been fortunate to have several on-line friends help me with this, from beta reading to suggestions and corrections. I wish to thank Erin, Jane, Jen, Linda, Miranda, and Trisha for all your help. Last, and far from least, m.c.moose for her tireless efforts on my behalf. Thank you all!
*Under Different Circumstances*
Chakotay stepped off the inter-planetary transport into the bright California sunshine. As the dark material of his uniform absorbed the heat of the sun's radiation, he wished he had been able to dress in something cooler. Shading his eyes with one hand, he could see the silhouette of Starfleet Headquarters against the San Francisco city skyline. It had been quite a few years since he'd walked the corridors of 'Fleet Headquarters, and he wasn't looking forward to it now. He belonged on a starship, not at a planetside desk-job. For the hundredth time, he tried to think of a reason why he was being punished. His service record was unblemished. Perhaps he hadn't had an outstanding career, having been assigned to some rather mundane missions, but he had the reputation of being a solid, loyal officer. One who could be counted on in a pinch. He was well-liked by his shipmates and the officers he served with, he just couldn't fathom why Headquarters had promoted him to a full Commander, and then requested he return to Earth. Stepping onto the transporter pad, he knew he'd have his answers soon enough.
As the tingling sensation surrounded his body, the public transportation depot faded from view, to be replaced with the interior of Starfleet Headquarters. The central lobby was bustling with activity, as per usual, awash with the sights and sounds of people from all over the Quadrant. To the first-time visitor, it could be overwhelming. Although it was hardly Chakotay's first view of the Federation nerve center, it still threatened to overtake his senses after the quiet of his homeworld, and routine shipboard life. Having been informed of his new post, Chakotay had requested some time off to visit his family on Dorvan V. Actually, to visit his mother and sisters. If his father, Kolopak, were absent, he'd consider himself fortunate.
They had never seen eye-to-eye on anything, and the passing years did nothing to alleviate the tension between father and son. Kolopak looked on Chakotay's career in Starfleet almost with amusement, as if once his son had this foolishness out of his system he would return to Dorvan and his heritage. Chakotay had given up long ago, trying to convince his disillusioned parent that this wasn't a mere "phase" he was going through. It had been nearly twenty years. When was the old man going to give up and realize this is who he was? He remembered the argument they had, as Kolopak was leaving for a secret meeting:
"You should come listen to them, Chakotay," his father told him in hushed tones, to avoid being overheard. "There's talk of a treaty with Cardassia, and under the terms of the settlement, Dorvan will fall to the Cardassians. Do you think they will honor our traditions and our rights? Of course they won't! We have to be prepared to defend our lands, as we have always done!"
Chakotay thought about his father's statement. That pretty much summed things up. Since the beginning of time it seemed his people fought for their lands, almost as if the fight defined them as a people. They had suffered persecution on Earth, causing them to strike out to the stars and embrace Dorvan V as their new home, and the leaders had decreed there would be no more retreat. The People had spiritual ties to *this* world now and they would not abandon them over someone else's war.
"And what good would it do if I were to come, Father? I will not take up this cause! I can't, even if I *wanted* to!"
"You mean because of Starfleet."
"Of course, because of Starfleet!" he shouted angrily at his father. He wanted to shake the man, to get him to see he was no longer a citizen of Dorvan, that he was here as a visitor. But his father chose not to see him that way. Chakotay was dressed in civilian clothes, similar to the those other males on Dorvan wore, but the communicator attached to his chest set him apart. Everyone else in the community recognized it as a symbol of his alliance with Starfleet, why did his father choose to ignore it?
"They are calling themselves 'Maquis,'" his father continued, as if Chakotay hadn't spoken.
"'Maquis?'" Chakotay asked, "what kind of a name is that?"
"It comes from Earth. From the twentieth century. It was used as a term by French resistance fighters."
"Which is where all this talk of 'resistance' should have stayed! Father, you can't honestly believe your little group would stand a chance against the Cardassians if it came down to a fight?"
"It *will* come down to a fight," Kolopak stated, his eyes cold. "And it's not so small a group as you may think."
"Perhaps you shouldn't be telling me all this," Chakotay said, wondering how much his father intended to reveal. "If they ask me questions about this at Headquarters, I'll have to tell them, and I don't want to betray you. I would just as soon you left me out of the whole thing."
Kolopak watched as his son walked away; he had held such high hopes for him. Chakotay was his only son, and contrary from the day he was born. Kolopak had no idea where the whole notion of Starfleet had come from in the first place. Kolopak knew of no other among the People who was so anxious to leave their family, their heritage behind as Chakotay had been. The Spirits had warned Kolopak that his son would be a challenge, a test, but he was beginning to wonder if the test would ever end.
*********
Back at Starfleet Headquarters, Chakotay accessed a computer panel and asked directions to Admiral Nechayev's office. It was her orders that had brought him back to San Francisco, and his first duty, was to report to her.
He found her office easily enough; in true bureaucratic form, he was asked to wait, although he was the only one present. Taking a seat, he looked around the outer waiting area. Starfleet definitely went for a theme, he thought to himself as he gazed around the room. Plain gray walls, whose sterile expanse was occasionally alleviated by a modernistic-looking sconce. The carpeting was gray as well, though a shade deeper. The only thing to perk up the room, were a few plants, obviously added because they *weren't* gray. He could have been in a room on a ship, as the style was consistent with any of the vessels he'd served on. Perhaps that's why Starfleet opted for the generic look in all of it's construction. To remind those in space of home, and those who had returned planet-side, of the stars.
Admiral Nechayev's door opened, revealing a slight woman of average height. He'd exchanged messages with her over sub-space, but had never spoken with her in person.
"Commander Chakotay," she said with a smile, extending her hand. "Won't you come in?"
He accepted her hand with a firm shake, preceding her into the room. Looking around the office, he noticed little had been added by way of personal touches. The same gray sterility he'd noted in the outer office was reflected in the inner one.
"Thank you for being so prompt," she said, motioning him to a chair opposite her desk.
Taking the seat, he found himself sarcastically thinking, *nice of you to do the same. Only a twenty minute wait. Pretty quick for an Admiral.* Outwardly he simply nodded. She offered him some refreshment, which he refused, wishing she'd just get on with it rather than going through the motions of time-worn etiquette.
"Sir? If I may be frank for a moment?" Chakotay started, once again wondering why the women of Starfleet usually preferred a term that seemed masculine. Nechayev nodded her consent.
"I'm just curious, why bring me back to Earth? Why the promotion and then assign me to a desk, if there's something I. . . ."
"It's nothing like that," the Admiral assured him, raising her hand to stop the rush of words she was sure to come. She had this conversation with enough re-assigned officers to know what was coming next. "You're record has been exemplary, Commander." He visible relaxed at this, waiting for her to continue. "In fact it's because of your record, among other things, that you were chosen for this mission."
"Mission," he stated. "Then I won't be planet side?"
"For the time being, but we're getting ahead of ourselves here," she said, getting up from her desk to fix a cup off tea, despite the fact he wasn't joining her. "What do you know about the movement known as the Maquis?"
Chakotay was taken aback for a moment, recalling with irony, how his thoughts had been on that very subject on his way to this meeting. "Not much, actually. I heard rumors when I was visiting my family, but nothing concrete."
She placed a data chip before him. "This is a briefing of what we know, and when I say 'briefing,' I'm not exaggerating. We have contacts, people on the inside, but we still know next to nothing. This is where you come in. It seems that the majority of the Maquis' activities are taking place around Dorvan V, and as a former resident. . ."
"You think I can get you more information, that I. . . " he cut her off. He recognized his breech of manners immediately, and bit back the rest of his sentence. "I'm sorry Admiral, I didn't mean to interrupt."
"I'm not asking you to return to Dorvan and infiltrate the Maquis, if that's what you're thinking," she said, retaking her desk chair. "Since you're known as a Starfleet officer, you would be too conspicuous to be directly involved."
"Then what. . . .?"
"I'm assigning you to work with Captain Janeway. Do you know of her?"
He'd heard the name before, but they'd never met. She had come up quickly through the ranks, that was about all he could remember about her. "Her name rings a bell, but no, I've never met her."
"Here's her service record," Nechayev said, adding another data chip to the first. "I would suggest you review it before the staff meeting tomorrow." The Admiral went on to outline what was expected of him in his new capacity.
"You'll be her assistant, in her office, helping coordinate our efforts in gathering more information about the Maquis. Once *Voyager* is out of space dock and has completed her shake-down cruise, Janeway will take over as Captain and you will be assigned to the position of First Officer." She watched his face as the news registered with him.
It was no secret that *Voyager* was the Federation's latest treasure, and an assignment to her was tantamount to celebrity status. Janeway must really be something if Starfleet had placed this amount of confidence in her! Or himself for that matter. He had to admit to feeling slightly bitter at his slow move through the ranks, as his assignments were so mundane as to keep him obscure, but this latest information removed any animosity over the issue.
He saw the smile on Nechayev's face. "I don't know what to say, I'm honored," he managed.
"You deserve it, Commander. Think you can swallow a little planet side duty for six months?"
"I think I might be able to do that," he said, a wide grin lighting up his handsome face.
"Good," she said, back to business. "As I mentioned before, there's a staff meeting at 09:00 tomorrow where everything will be explained." She stood and once again extended her hand, signaling to Chakotay that their meeting was through. Accepting her hand, he confirmed the meeting.
"09:00. I'll be there. Thank you, Sir. For everything."
"You're welcome. See you tomorrow."
*********
Chakotay was so concerned he'd be late for the meeting, he'd made it to the briefing room twenty minutes early. Not sure where he was expected to sit, he paced the spacious room. The entire western wall was glass, affording a spectacular view of the ocean. The ocean and Bay area were the only redeeming qualities San Francisco had to offer, in his opinion. He didn't like the crowds and congestion of the city, although he knew it used to be much worse. How people made it to the twenty-fourth century was beyond him. Lost in the vista, he didn't hear the door open.
"I see I'm not the only one concerned about facing Nechayev's temper by being late," a husky, feminine voice spoke behind him.
Chakotay turned around and saw a slim woman dressed in the red and black of Command. Taking note of the four pips on her regulation gray turtleneck, he recognized her from the file he'd read as Captain Janeway. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in an elaborate pony tail, professional, but not austere. She was pretty, he noticed, but her beauty wasn't distracting. There was something about her eyes, though. A dark blue, nearly gray, they held his as if she were trying to remember where she had seen him before.
"This is going to sound horribly clich�," she said, slightly embarrassed. "Have we met before?" A huge grin broke out on his face, as he looked at his feet to avoid laughing at the phrase usually reserved as a pick-up line.
"I don't think so," he said, his eyes returning to hers, deciding to throw in a line of his own. "I would have remembered."
Kathryn Janeway examined the man before her. This must be her new assistant, although his Starfleet photo hadn't done him justice. Taller than she had expected, he had an athletic build which wasn't conveyed by his file either. His short-cropped hair was beginning to show a hint of gray, which she found appealing, as she did his dark skin, perhaps because it was a contrast to her own. But his eyes were what truly intrigued her. Their dark brown depths seemed to draw her in, even to the point of causing her to blurt out a tired line about having met before.
"Captain Kathryn Janeway," she said, taking a step closer, hand extended. He grasped it in his own larger one and took a step closer as well.
"Commander Chakotay," he said, his eyes still locked on hers. There *did* seem to be something familiar about her, he thought. If he believed in his tribe's teachings, he might have thought it some type of recognition on a spiritual level, but he pushed that thought away. Thinking of spirituality reminded him of his People and his father, and he didn't want them intruding in on this moment.
They hadn't heard the door open, hadn't realized they were no longer alone, until they heard Admiral Nechayev's voice behind them.
"Oh good," she said, laying several PADDs on the conference table's polished wood surface. "I see the two of you have met. Well, that saves us some time right there!" She told them with a smile.
Chakotay didn't notice he still had Janeway's hand within his grip until he felt her pull away. Feeling self-conscious over having held it for so long, he cleared his throat and asked the Admiral where she would like him to sit. She indicated a seat at one end of the table, and placed herself and Janeway across from him.
"We're just waiting for a few more officers, then we'll get this underway," the Admiral said more for conversation's sake than anything else. They'd all attended enough meetings to know the drill.
"Kathryn," Nechayev said, turning to face the woman on her right. "How was your leave?"
"It was wonderful. Mark and I went sailing on Lake George. My family has a cabin there," she informed them.
"Mark is Kathryn's fianc�," the Admiral clarified for Chakotay's benefit.
"Congratulations," Chakotay said, trying to sound sincere, knowing he'd fallen short of his goal. "When's the wedding?"
"We haven't set an actual date yet." Kathryn squirmed in her seat. "Maybe after some of this business with the Cardassians settles down."
"I wouldn't wait for that," Necheyev said with a short laugh, "you might never make it to the alter! What about you Commander?"
"Excuse me?"
"Is there someone special in your life?"
*What kind of question is that*? he wondered. He realized the Admiral was just making small talk until the meeting began, but he felt it was a rather personal question from a woman he'd just met.
"Uh, no," he answered quietly. "Just me." Fortunately, the door opened again, admitting several people. Finally, the meeting could get started.
Kathryn stole a glance at her new assistant. She felt sympathy for him, knowing how uncomfortable Nechayev's questions made him. Sometimes the woman relaxed protocol a little too much. She did find it odd that he was single, however. As attractive of a man as he was, she had trouble believing he'd lack companionship. Of course she knew looks were only an added bonus, but in their limited contact, she had sensed a warmth to him; coupled with his smile, that could no doubt be a lethal combination.
Janeway was so lost in her thoughts, she hadn't realized Nechayev had started the meeting. The Admiral passed PADDs out to the assembled people and began.
"As you can see, we've been able to successfully install an operative inside the Maquis. Lt. Commander Tuvok's most recent communiqu� was received last week. Due to the precariousness of his position, I expect his transmissions to be erratic at best."
"Where is he now?" another captain asked.
"Last report we had, he was working with a group on Dorvan V," she told them.
Chakotay's head snapped up at the mention of his homeworld. Seeing she had the Commander's interest, Nechayev proceeded down that avenue.
"As I told you yesterday, Commander, you're too recognizable as Starfleet among your people to be working on this on Dorvan, but I think your help will be invaluable here, coordinating our efforts with those of Commander Tuvok's."
*In other words*, he thought to himself, *I'm supposed to tell them what I know and use my family connections to gain more information*. He knew now he had been right to stop his father from his confession, had known specifics, he would be obligated to tell his superiors, at the risk of endangering his family. As much as the information might have helped further things in his new capacity as liaison, he was glad he hadn't attended his father's meeting. He could already see what a fine line he was going to have to tread with this assignment.
For the most part, there had been little conflict with his choice of Starfleet over his People, other than when he went home. However, he wasn't being asked to undermine them on a daily basis like he was now. He hoped he was up to the challenge.
Admiral Nechayev continued to outline Starfleet's strategy. But he didn't hear most of what she was saying. He looked up and saw Captain Janeway's eyes on him. She wore a sympathetic expression for a moment then turned her attention back to the Admiral. She was going to be an interesting person to get to know, he realized, as he too refocused on the briefing.
*********
There were two words in Federation Standard Chakotay hated cojoined: Starfleet and Function. He had been "cordially" invited to attend tonight's official gathering. The invitation was, of course a veiled order. He tried to think of some way to beg off, but he knew he had no acceptable excuse to not show up. Perhaps that had been the Admiral's motive in asking him if he were personally involved, so he couldn't use the excuse of a sick spouse to escape the party. He'd had a few minutes to talk causally with Captain Janeway after the meeting, and discovered she too loathed the stiff, formal gatherings. At least she had a partner to bring, a guarantee of someone to talk to, he thought. Among other things, it also meant he had to haul his dress uniform out of moth balls. Not literally of course, but the phrase always seemed so appropriate in regards to dress uniforms.
After the meeting concluded, he was allowed some free time in order to prepare for the upcoming evening. Probably a bribe to ensure his appearance, he surmised now, but knew he had no choice. He wasn't quite sure why the Admiral was so adamant he attend. Perhaps it was to show off her new Commander, or maybe so he'd meet more people from 'Fleet Headquarters, giving him an idea of who was who. From that perspective, it wasn't hard to justify his "requested" presence.
Chakotay thought about his new CO. She seemed quite congenial, from the little contact he'd had with her. Perhaps he'd get a better 'feel' for her after the party tonight. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have an evening to talk to her in a non-command situation. And to his surprise, he found he was no longer dreading the night before him.
********
Kathryn tugged at her dress uniform. It always felt so uncomfortable. It wasn't that the size wasn't right. She'd replicated others in the past, and they all felt the same. Stiff, formal, restrictive. She supposed that was the nature of the costume, but it was as if the material had taken on a life of it's own and had embodied the characteristics she associated with it. She'd wound her hair up into a loose bun, but as she gazed at her reflection, she decided it was just too much. She was in a happy mood, in spite of the social function, and her upswept hair was just too reserved. Surprisingly, she was looking forward to her new assignment. She doubted she'd experience the same optimism if *Voyager* wasn't in her future. As it was, she was assured of her position on board, and so, she chose to enjoy her short-term duty as sort of a working vacation. Pulling the pins from her hair, she grabbed a brush and stroked it's length until it was straight. Looking at the time, she realized she'd better decide on a hairstyle quickly, as Mark was due any moment.
Her thoughts went to her fianc�. He was such a dear man to put up with her. The unpredictable schedule, her time away (often for months at a time), attending boring official parties. She really *should* set a date. He was anxious to be married, but once again, had left it up to her to decide when she was ready. Sometimes she felt guilty in the face of such devotion. It wasn't that she didn't love him, she did, but perhaps not in the same way he loved her. They already had a comfortable routine, as if they *had* been married for years; she was loathe to upset the balance. To be perfectly honest, she liked having her own house, separate from his. A place she could retreat to when things got to be too much. It was probably silly, she realized, as she was at Mark's more often than not, but she liked knowing it was here if she needed it.. Just then Molly started to bark as the outer door slid open.
"I'll be out in a minute!" she called out.
"Take your time, I'm early!"
Kathryn could hear the sounds of him playing with the big Irish setter, and smiled. He really needed to have a dog of his own. Maybe one of Molly's puppies when they were old enough. What was she thinking? If she were to set a date, Mark *would* have a dog--hers. Had she brushed off making a commitment yet again? She didn't want to think of that right now; maybe later, when she had some time. Opting for a set of cloisonn� combs, she pulled the bulk of her hair over one side of her head and fastened it in place, leaving the rest hanging down. Not formal, but that's what she liked about it.
As she stepped into the living room, Mark rose. "You look great, but then you always do." He crossed over to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She was never quite sure if the chaste kiss was in an effort to preserve her make-up, or if it was the extent of the emotion he was feeling at the moment.
"Thank you, you look good too. I think you were made for a tux," she said, checking her small bag to see if she had everything she needed.
He smiled at her compliment. "Well, I'm likely to stick out like a sore thumb in this get-up among all you Starfleet people."
"There will be plenty of civilians there, as always. Besides, I think you have more in common with the higher-ups than I do. You certainly can carry on a conversation with them longer than I can."
"I can carry on a conversation with *anyone* longer than you! One of the hazards of being a philosopher, I imagine," he teased her. "That reminds me, I've been asked to speak at a conference on Risa next week, do you think you can come along?"
"What are you going to talk about on Risa? The pitfalls of hedonistic behavior on a pleasure planet?"
"No," he said, helping her with her coat. "There are other sides to Risa besides the sexual one you know."
"And just what side are you inviting me to?" she asked playfully.
"What side do you want?"
"Well, if I *could* go. . . ." she said.
"You're not going to be able to get off, are you?"
Kathryn sighed. "If I hadn't just come back from a leave, and I wasn't starting a new project, and if. . . ."
"Okay! All right! I get the message!" he cut her off.
"I'm sorry, Mark. But you do understand, don't you?"
"Of course I do," he answered with a sigh of his own. "What's it going to be like when you become an Admiral?"
"Probably easier," she smiled. "Then I can make the Captains do all the dirty work!"
*********