*Under Different Circumstances--Segment 2*
This is a continuation of Segment 1 It is suggested that you read that first, as it sets up this second segment. .
All disclaimers from Segment 1 apply
Copyright 1998 by NODA
NOTE: In the first segment I mentioned some people who have helped me with this saga and who have continued to be of assistance. I would like to add Amanda, Gina and Kathy to the list. And of course, special thanks go once again to m.c. moose who's never screamed "ENOUGH!" throughout the creation of this work.
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Chakotay lay on the hard bunk in the barracks, his right arm slung casually over his eyes in an attempt to block the harsh glare of the overhead lighting. He was exhausted, but sleep eluded him. The barracks were noisy. The hard surfaces of the ceiling, walls and floors amplified any sound, and there was always someone coming or going.
His head hurt. Not only from fatigue, but the recent addition of his family's symbol. The skin over his left eye still felt numb. Numb. That's how he felt most days. Oblivious to the passing of time. He ate because it was necessary, and slept when he could force no more movement from his body. He existed, but he didn't live.
Kathryn. She was his first thought upon waking and the last before succumbing to dreamless sleep. He ached for her. For her body next to his, and for the peace she gave him. Between the moments when he clutched her hair clasp like a talisman, were the times he tried not to think of her. Many nights had he used alcohol to take her from his thoughts, only to find her there again in the morning, along with a wicked hang-over.
He'd changed so much in the past weeks, he doubted she'd recognize him. He certainly didn't recognize himself. Not so much physically, although there was a lean hardness to him, that living on the edge had wrought. Torn between loyalties to his People and his self-proclaimed tribe of Starfleet, Chakotay finally chose the former. The devastation he had witnesses upon his return to Dorvan V ate at his soul. How could he have turned a blind eye to his People's needs all these months? He had always suspected the Federation's policy where the Cardassians were concerned was misguided; now he knew it for a fact. If only the Federation bureaucrats could witness first hand the havoc the Cardassians had wreaked, they wouldn't be so quick to condemn the efforts of the Maquis.
He felt the worst about *Voyager*. Not only had he given up his chance for career advancement, he'd given up his chance to command a starship with Kathryn. It always came back to her. Would there ever be a time when he could have a thought without her entering into the equation?
Chakotay rolled over, trying to get comfortable. Maybe he should have chosen the lower bunk. At least that way the upper berth would have blocked some of the light. Lying on his side, Kathryn again invaded his thoughts.
He tried so hard to get a message to her. Not only to ease her worry, but to try to explain why he wouldn't be returning any time soon. Most of the comm equipment capable of sending a message that distance had been destroyed. Every opportunity he had, he tried to get a message out. His best chance was with the relay the Maquis had access to; the way his mother had contacted him. Using whatever leverage his position as a former Starfleet officer gave him, he managed to send Kathryn a message trying to tell her what had happened. He could only pray that it made it to her. But how did he explain things when he didn't understand them himself? How, after he saw the ruins of his homeworld smoking around him, he was filled with a rage he had never known. How every day he felt the sharp, stabbing pain of guilt for not having been home where his family, his father, had needed him to be. Now there was no way to make amends with Kolopak. But there was a way he could pick up his father's cause, like a banner, and return to the front lines in his stead, emblazoned with the new tattoo he wore to honor the man he had disappointed on so many occasions.
He had been expected to say the ritual words at his father's funeral, but again he fell short of his People's expectations. Having no interest in tribal customs, he'd never learned the ceremony. Although it wasn't customary, Naya had stepped forward and completed the ritual for him. It had been her first act in a spiritual capacity, and for once the action wasn't questioned or cited as being offensive to the Spirits. The People had suffered many losses; they had no energy to debate the "rightness" of Naya's calling. They needed a spiritual leader; she was more than willing to fulfill the role.
Throughout the whole ceremony, Petala had remained strong, showing her People the brave face they expected of her. In private was a different matter. Chakotay heard her crying every night. Not only for her loss, but the village's loss as well. The light had gone from her eyes, as if a portion of her had died with Kolopak. Chakotay understood how she felt. Even though Kathryn was far from deceased, he felt the pain of their separation as if she had died. The worst of it was it had been his own choice. All he had to do was abandon his People, and he could return to her. But he couldn't do it. As much as he loved Kathryn, Dorvan and his band had a prior claim, one he had been ignoring. Now it was time for retribution.
Upon the news of their father's death, Lakita had joined the nearest Maquis cell, despite the protests of her family. She argued that *someone* needed to take up the cause in Kolopak's name, all the while staring pointedly at her only brother. His mother and other sisters had voiced no such recriminations, but Chakotay felt their questioning just the same. It wasn't only that his family expected this of him. He expected it of himself. He owed them all this much at least. He couldn't bring Kolopak back, but perhaps he could redeem himself in his family's eyes. Maybe, it would even allow him to look himself in the eye when he looked in the mirror.
He joined his sister's cell, and was given the rank of Captain. The Maquis knew what a windfall they'd received and immediately put him to use. While he tried to be discriminating in what he revealed of Starfleet's plans, he knew he was undermining their efforts to control the Maquis situation. Once again he had to walk the line. How much did he tell of what he knew? Once word of his defection reached Headquarters, he knew his capture would become a top priority. He had been privy to nearly all communication regarding the Maquis, making him the most dangerous man in the Resistance.
Chakotay held no grudge against Starfleet other than their refusal to help the freedom fighters in their cause. But that was more Federation policy than Starfleet's. The military organization was simply enforcing the United Federation Of Planets directives. Even while he was working with Kathryn and Harry, he'd been aware of how many people didn't agree with the Federation's stand on the Cardassian issue. It was ironic that the three people who knew the most about the Maquis were also three people who were simply following orders.
He and Kathryn had discussed the matter professionally and privately. She too sympathized with the colonists within the DMZ, but her hands were tied. She was a Starfleet Captain, and would follow her orders, whether she personally agreed with them or not.
Chakotay had thought he could do the same until he viewed the sight that greeted him once the hatch of the Runabout opened on Dorvan V. He couldn't begin to describe what went through his mind as he spied the wreckage of his former home.
Some how he hoped Kathryn knew him well enough to understand his decision to remain on Dorvan. If only the messages got through to her! Now he lay on a hard bunk, in an overheated, noisy barracks, praying for the release of sleep. Begging the Spirits to deliver his messages to Kathryn, and hoping she would understand.
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Kathryn sat at her desk, absent-mindedly tapping her nails against the hard surface. Two weeks. Two weeks and not a single word from him. Had he been shot down? Killed? Was he injured with no way to signal her or Starfleet? She'd been so consumed with worry, she found it nearly impossible to concentrate on *Voyager's* final checks.
In her office, in the process of clearing out her desk, she dreaded the thought of clearing out Chakotay's. It was bad enough to feel the emptiness in the office, but to return home each night to quiet of her small home was almost her undoing. How had he ingrained himself into her life so fast? She always welcomed the quiet of her home when she'd been seeing Mark. Now the silence that greeted her was almost tangible. She'd replicate a meal, only to pick at it, giving the rest to Molly.
Her appearance was haggard. Even Harry had asked if something were wrong. For him to have the courage to question her appearance must have meant she *really* looked like hell. Well, she certainly felt like it.
There had to be some logical explanation as to why he hadn't contacted her, she reasoned. It was that thought she had to cling to.
Harry's voice came over the comm line. "Captain, Admiral Nechayev is here. Shall I send her in?"
Nechayev, here? She didn't make "personal appearances." Especially these days with things heating up in the DMZ and *Voyager's* launch. "Yes, of course," Kathryn answered, still a little flustered at the prospect of an unscheduled meeting.
Kathryn stood as the Admiral entered the office. "Admiral Nechayev," she said, offering her a seat. "Can I get you something? Coffee, tea?"
"Thank you, no. I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Captain."
The look on Nechayev's face had Kathryn worried. This was serious. The first thought that came to her mind was that Chakotay was dead, that the Admiral had received the news and requested to bring it to Kathryn herself.
"Is it Chakotay?" Kathryn managed to speak from her suddenly parched throat.
"Yes, but not what you're thinking," Nechayev replied. "In some respects, I almost wish it were."
"Admiral?" she questioned. What could be so dire that Chakotay's death would be preferable to the truth?
"I received word this morning that the Maquis have gained a new recruit."
Kathryn sat silent for a moment as realization washed over her. She couldn't be serious! Chakotay in the Maquis? That was absurd! Why would he give up Starfleet, *Voyager*, *her* to join the group he'd been working the last six months to disband?
"Admiral, I'm sure there's been some mistake, maybe someone who *looks* like Chakotay was spotted and. . ."
"I assure you, Captain, the information is accurate. We have plants among the Maquis other than Tuvok. I realize you weren't aware of this particular operative, but it was only as a security measure, not because we didn't trust you. As it turns out, it was a wise move. I don't have to tell you what this means in our efforts to stop the Maquis. Chakotay has as much, or more knowledge of our plans than anyone in Starfleet, and I doubt he'll hesitate to use it."
Kathryn was in shock. She couldn't take in all Nechayev was telling her. How *could* he? What could have possibly caused him to switch loyalties at this stage? Something must have happened on Dorvan. Maybe they captured him, knowing the amount of information he possessed. She said as much to the Admiral.
"Kathryn," Nechayev said, calling her by name for the first time, "I know you want to believe the best about him. I found myself trying to rationalize his behavior. But there was no doubt in my contact's mind that he was a willing participant."
"Couldn't he have just been 'playing along' in an effort to escape? Admiral, I can't believe Chakotay would be capable of this kind of deception! This wasn't a pre-meditated act!"
"I agree with you. I don't think Chakotay was sent here as a spy, to infiltrate Starfleet Headquarters, or even that he was swayed once he had his assignment. I truly believe this is a recent affiliation."
That much was a relief, Kathryn thought. Her mind was still reeling. What could have happened to him to make him give up *everything*?
"Kathryn, I don't think I have to tell you what this means to our plans. Chakotay is now the most dangerous man in the quadrant, and Starfleet has acted accordingly."
"Meaning. . . .?"
"They've issued a warrant for his arrest. Besides the obvious charges of defection, there're accusations of theft of Starfleet property and being AWOL."
Kathryn paled. Clutching her desk to keep an upright position, she asked, "what will they do with him, once he's in custody?"
"There will be trial, certainly. And a court martial. As far as a sentence, I can't predict that outcome. I'm sure you'll be called on to testify."
Kathryn felt even more light-headed. This couldn't be happening! Two weeks ago they had been sharing a bed and now he was the Federation's Most Wanted? If only she knew what had happened!
"There's more," Nechayev said, clearly uncomfortable with the next words she would speak. "*Voyager's* shake-down will also be her first mission. That mission has a new priority: the apprehension of former Commander Chakotay."
Kathryn felt truly nauseous. *She* had to be the one to bring in Chakotay?
"Admiral, I don't think. . ."
"Captain Janeway," she addressed Kathryn, once again 'Fleet officer to 'Fleet officer. "Did you or did you not assure me you had no problems in following Standard Procedure and orders in regards to Com...Chakotay?"
"I did, Sir," Kathryn barely whispered.
"You will take command of *Voyager* this afternoon at 15:00 and proceed to the DMZ to arrest Chakotay," Nechayev said, trying not to let her own feelings for the woman interfere with her duty. She knew the emotions Kathryn must be facing, but wasn't at liberty to acknowledge them.
"Lieutenant Commander Cavitt has been promoted to Commander, and will serve as First Officer," Nechayev continued. "If you still want Ensign Kim with you, I'll approve the transfer."
"Yes, I do," Kathryn managed. She was barely aware of speaking, feeling almost as devastated as she had when her father died.
"I know you have a lot to accomplish, so I'll leave you now. Don't worry about cleaning out the office; I'll assign the duty to a detail from the Academy. Kathryn, I am truly sorry about this," the Admiral said, touching Kathryn's arm, allowing herself a moment to offer her condolences.
Kathryn nodded mutely as she watched Nechayev exit her office. The nausea she felt earlier became overwhelming and she raced to the bathroom to vomit the small amount she had eaten that morning. Then she began to sob. How could he *do* this to her! He claimed he loved her? *This* was how you proved your love to someone? To join the enemy mere days before the two of them were to assume command? Maybe it was better this way! Had he become *Voyager's* First Officer, he might have taken over the ship and handed it to the Maquis. Kathryn didn't actually believe he was capable of such duplicity, but an hour ago would she have believed him capable of joining the Maquis?
Surely he had to realize the spark he would ignite in the powder keg of the DMZ! And that *Voyager* would be the ship they sent after him! And that she would be the one in command of that ship. Maybe he thought she'd step down under the circumstances. If he believed that, then he didn't know her as well as he thought.
It was the personal betrayal that hurt the worst. On a strictly professional level, she could see him being swayed by his family to join the Resistance. She had witnessed the effects of Cardassia's interest in Dorvan V months ago; it had to be even worse now. However, on a personal level, she couldn't reconcile his behavior. Not one call? No attempts at communication? It was the fact he hadn't tried to explain his choices that hurt the most. He had to know she was crazy with worry. He didn't care about her enough to even consider that?
Kathryn stood and washed her face, removing the evidence of her tears, but her eyes still betrayed her. A knot of anger had grown in her stomach and now radiated outward.
There was a hard new glint in Janeway's eyes as she addressed Harry. "Congratulations, Ensign. There has been a last minute opening on *Voyager*. You'll be stationed at Ops. Report to the ship by 20:00."
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Surprise wasn't a state Tuvok often experienced. His cool logic almost always spared him amazement. But seeing Commander Chakotay sitting next to a young woman, apparently of Chakotay's race, Tuvok was taken aback. He had not been informed of another operative being placed within this cell, and could only surmise the Commander was now a participant and not an observer in the Resistance. Tuvok had been out with his particular band of rebels for several weeks, and wondered how long Chakotay had been with the Maquis. Noting the tattoo that now graced the man's forehead, he had to assume it had been a few weeks, as the markings appeared to have healed.
Although the members of his cell had offered to adorn him in a similar manner, he had refused. The inking was done in a "traditional" fashion, which meant only one thing to Tuvok: lack of sanitation. He had seen several people with inflamed skin, and didn't wish to be added to their ranks. He had endured a great deal of peer pressure to succumb to the procedure, but he remained resolute. He could see no logical reason to purposely maim himself, and told his companions as much, which only increased the amount of harassment he was forced to abide.
Looking across the compound, Tuvok observed Chakotay and the members of his cell sitting around a fire. It wasn't uncommon for the cells to "rendezvous," like voyageurs of old, to exchange information. Each cell tended to stick to itself, like a family unit, and indeed many were. Often several members of a biological family formed their own cell. The woman next to Chakotay bore a resemblance to him; Tuvok guessed she was his sister. Perhaps she was the reason Tuvok now spied the former Starfleet officer across from him.
Chakotay looked up and met Tuvok's gaze. Both men stared for several minutes, as if trying to ascertain a course of action. At length, Chakotay looked away. He needed to confront the Vulcan, but now was not the time nor the place. Chakotay allowed himself to be drawn back into the conversation, but wasn't concentrating on his responses.
How was he going to handle this? Tuvok was an obvious threat to the Resistance. Chakotay could no longer allow him to supply Starfleet and the Federation with information on Maquis strikes. If the resistance fighters caught wind of Tuvok's deception, they would kill him. No questions asked. They were a hardened bunch, having seen more death and destruction in one lifetime than anyone should. One more death would mean nothing to them.
Chakotay didn't want Tuvok's death on his conscience. Just seeing the man across the compound reminded him of Kathryn's concern for his safety. He would not be the one to be responsible for the man's death. He had hurt Kathryn too much as it was; he would not take her friend from her as well.
Excusing himself from the group near the fire, Chakotay approached Tuvok. The Vulcan watched his approach with detachment. If the man were here to expose him, there was nothing he could do about it but accept his fate. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, Tuvok addressed Chakotay as he drew near.
"Commander."
"It's Captain, now."
"Joining the Maquis is one way to make rank," Tuvok returned dryly; his sarcastic comment did nothing to garner further sympathy from Chakotay.
"I thought I knew what I was going to do about you. Now I'm not so sure."
Unruffled, Tuvok said, "I highly doubt one comment from me would change your course of action."
Now Chakotay remembered why he didn't like this man. The condescending attitude he had seen on Dorvan V months ago was still very much in evidence. Whether it was a racial characteristic or simply *this* Vulcan, didn't matter: Tuvok was pissing him off.
"You realize I can't allow you to continue transmitting sensitive information to Starfleet," Chakotay simply stated.
"I do. What do you do now, *Captain*? Shoot me here or take me into the woods for my execution?"
The man's unemotional acceptance of his fate angered Chakotay even more. And they claimed *his* people were stoic! "Neither," he told him. "For Kathryn's sake, I'm going to allow you to live. I'll take you to a planet outside the DMZ. where you'll be able to contact Starfleet."
Chakotay didn't know what kind of communication equipment Tuvok had access to, but it would have to be sufficient. He was already violating the oath to his new cause by letting the man live; he wasn't going to supply him with a sub-space relay as well.
"I assume we will be leaving immediately," Tuvok said.
"As soon as the Runabout's powered up."
"And if I decide I do not wish to accompany you?"
"I'll shoot you where you stand."
"Given those are my options, it looks as though I will be leaving," Tuvok acknowledged. "Am I permitted to take my pack?"
"Fine. But I'm coming with you."
"As you wish," Tuvok said, heading towards a row of cannibalized buildings.
The last occupants of this world hadn't left much for the current residents, but the Maquis were resourceful, if nothing else. They had managed to make the half-destroyed shells into living quarters and even a passable medical facility.
Chakotay kept a close eye on Tuvok as he gathered a battered pack. He assumed his comm equipment was somewhere within, but he was careful to watch for any sign of a weapon. Both had been trained in tactical strategies at Starfleet Academy and were an even match, should it come down to an actual battle. Realizing this, Tuvok didn't try to over-take Chakotay, seeing as the man had a hidden phaser pointed at Tuvok's mid-section.
The flight to Resika Prime was uneventful. Neither man spoke until it was time for Chakotay to beam Tuvok to the surface. Handing him several days worth of rations and water Chakotay said, "I spared your life for one reason: to avoid hurting Kathryn any further."
"So you have stated," Tuvok said evenly.
"When you speak to her, I want you to tell her I love her. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, and certainly didn't plan on hurting her." Chakotay started to add more, but there was nothing else he could say. If his messages hadn't gotten through, there was nothing he could do about it now.
"I will relay your message, but knowing the Captain as I do, I doubt she will take solace in your words."
Chakotay's mouth quirked into a sardonic grin. "You're probably right. I'd appreciate it if you tried anyway,"
"I will relay your message," Tuvok said, seconds before he found himself on the surface of the planet.
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Kathryn stood in her bedroom, facing the daunting task of preparing to ship-out before her. Mentally she went through her list: take Molly to the kennel; put the utilities on "hold"; pack her belongings; call her mother; call Phoebe. The last two could be done from the ship if necessary. She wished she had more time! She really wanted to talk to her sister, especially since she was the closest thing Kathryn now had to a confidant. But there just wasn't time. If she called Phoebe, she'd never make her 15:00 deadline.
Racing around the house, she tried to think of anything she had forgotten. She had no idea how long she would be gone. Would it be a week? A month? Longer? How hard was it going to be to track Chakotay down? At least she had the advantage of knowing how his mind worked. Or did she? If she had truly known him, wouldn't she have seen this coming? That was the idea that plagued her the most. That she thought she knew him. Perhaps if his behavior had been leading up to this, she wouldn't find it so hard to understand. But this out-of-the-blue, 180-degree turn-around had her completely baffled.
The items she had left around the bedroom to remember him by now mocked her. The bottle of cologne to remind her of his scent. His favorite off-duty shirt. The ball he played "fetch" with Molly. They were only reminders of his betrayal. In a very un-Kathryn like gesture, she picked up the bottle of cologne and threw it with all her might against the far wall. It broke with a satisfying shatter, leaving a liquid stain running down the wall. Besides the mess, she was now assaulted with an even stronger olfactory reminder of her lover. And in another uncharacteristic move, she left the mess where it landed. She wasn't going to be here. What difference did it make?
Kathryn lay her hand on her chest for a moment, trying to calm down. Feeling the thin chain of her necklace through the material of her uniform, she pulled it out from under her turtleneck. It was nothing special, just a petite gold chain with a polished rock attached. The rock was from their day at Lake George. Some form of granite, it had caught Chakotay's eye; he'd spent days polishing the stone for her. It certainly wasn't worth anything beyond its sentimental value, but in that respect it was priceless. In her eyes, the Hope Diamond would have paled in comparison, in her eyes. As she held the chain, she considered whether or not to continue wearing it. Other than to shower, she hadn't removed it from the day he'd presented it to her. It represented his love to her. Staring at the necklace now, she knew she couldn't stand to have a sign of his empty words around her neck. She had enough problems on her shoulders without adding a proverbial millstone around her neck. Kathryn placed the necklace on the top of her dresser with none of her earlier vehemence. She was slightly embarrassed at her childish tantrum and glad Molly had been the only witness to her moment of weakness.
Her faithful dog looked up at her now, appearing almost depressed.
"I know, girl. I wouldn't want to go to the kennel either, especially so close to having puppies," Kathryn crooned to the dog. Sensing her owner's distress, Molly went to a corner and returned with a sock. It was one of Chakotay's. The simple gesture brought tears to Kathryn's eyes. As if Molly were asking her to bring him back home. Running her hand over the dog's silky head, she said,
"I'll do my best, girl."
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