Kurt, Lakita and five more were trapped in the armory, exchanging occasional weapons fire with a group of Cardassians. They didn't know the fate of the others left with them, but suspected they were dead when they'd heard the incessant barking of the dogs, then an eerie silence. The Cardassians knew they had them pinned down, but there was one problem: the Maquis had an almost unlimited supply of phaser rifles, while their own weapons were running out of power.
Just then there was firing coming from behind the Cardassian patrol. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, the stranded Maquis grabbed what rifles they could and headed in the direction of their rescuers. Chakotay and Seska fired in a standard attack pattern, making it appear as if there were more than just the two of them. Once their fellow cell-members were within hearing range, Chakotay instructed them to head to the Runabout. For a moment Chakotay thought they were going to make it. Then, almost in slow motion, he saw a young Cardassian taking aim on Lakita. Chakotay called for her to get down, but it was too late; the disrupter beam hit her squarely in the back, knocking her off balance and sending her flying several feet.
Chakotay screamed and ran for his sister, heedless of the target he now made. Hearing his anguished cry, Seska watched as the Cardassian took aim once more. She had a clear shot and fired without hesitation.
"Hurry!" she called to Chakotay, helping him to drag Lakita from the building. "Chakotay! You have to leave her! They be on us any second!"
"NO! I won't leave her! They can kill me too, for all I care, but I'm not leaving her to those Cardassian pigs!"
"Seska's right," Lakita gasped. There's nothing. . . ." she stopped, her speech interrupted by a hacking cough that left blood on her lips. She was already starting to turn blue as Chakotay pulled her to him in a fierce hug.
"NO!" he cried again. "You're going to be all right! We just have to get you to the ship!" He struggled to stand, taking her with him, as Seska covered their retreat.
Somehow they made it to the ship and the moment they were onboard, Chakotay ordered Kurt to take off. If the others were still alive, he'd look for them later. Now all he could think about was getting his sister some medical help.
Gently laying Lakita on the floor of the Runabout, he tried to tell her that everything would be fine; that he wouldn't let anything happen to her.
Lakita tried to smile at his reassurances. "You can't save me any more, big brother. There was a time I thought you could, but not any more." She started coughing again and Chakotay enlisted what help he could from the others to make her comfortable.
"I'll tell *Ahtay* how much you've done for the Maquis," she whispered. "And that he shouldn't be angry with you. I love. . . ." the final word died on her lips as her last breath escaped her. Chakotay sat in shock for so long, the others wondered if he was aware that his sister were no longer with them. Letting out a choking sob, he gathered her limp form to him, ignoring the blood now covering him. Chakotay rocked back and forth, holding Lakita's lifeless form, mumbling endearments and apologies in their native tongue. The only sound on the ship came from Chakotay as he stroked his sister's hair, sobbing. Even Seska appeared to be affected by the display.
"You can't leave me!" he cried. "I promised them! I promised them all that I'd watch out for you! What am I going to tell them? *Ina's* going to kill me," he said with a twisted, hysterical grin that fled as soon as the words escaped him. "Oh, Gods, Lakita!" he cried again.
The cell members looked from one to the other, unsure of what to do or say. Finally, Seska managed to separate Chakotay from the body of his sister. "Her death was not in vain, Chakotay, " she told him. "She died for what she believed in."
Chakotay allowed himself to be separated from Lakita. No amount of denial or praying was going to bring her back, he was beginning to realize. Why did this cause have to ask so much of him? Of all of them? He wasn't the first person to lose family to the dispute, but that was cold comfort. Why did the Maquis have to take everything he held dear: Kolopak, Lakita, Kathryn? Gods, if she were here now, he would surrender, just to be done with it all! He was tired. Tired of running, of fighting. And he had been at it for far less time than most of his cell. How did they bear it?
He couldn't look at his sister's lifeless form. Fortunately, someone had the courtesy to cover her with a jacket so Chakotay wouldn't have to stare at her dead eyes. He hadn't even realized they'd landed until he felt Seska and Kurt help him to his feet. They had started to pull him to the entrance of the Runabout when he protested his need to take care of Lakita. Kurt promised to see to her, and Chakotay finally nodded, letting Seska lead him away. Chakotay knew he should be the one caring for his sister, but he just couldn't. Not right now.
Seska helped him to the tents they'd set up as a temporary shelter. Laying him back onto his bedroll, she removed his blood-soaked jacket. Neither of them had spoken, as he let her take off the shirt that was bloody as well. His eyes held a blank expression until he noticed Seska was stroking his bare chest. She looked up at him, still silent, but her eyes were speaking volumes. He didn't fight her as she reached up and pulled his head down to hers, seeking his mouth with her own. He didn't find the kiss particularly erotic, but it did stir something within him. She was alive. And warm. And there, willing to prove she was alive. He hadn't even realized he'd deepened their kiss until he heard her moan his name. It was the wrong voice. It wasn't *her* voice. That thought alone was enough to make him start to pull back, but Seska wasn't letting him go.
"Forget, Chakotay. If only for a few moments," she murmured against his mouth. "You know you want to."
She was right. He did want to. Forget about death, and fighting and his longing for Kathryn. It wasn't like he was looking for a surrogate for her. No one could ever replace her. But maybe if he closed his eyes, he could pretend the woman who was working on removing the rest of his clothes was his beloved Kathryn. If he prayed hard enough the hands on his erection would be hers, the mouth replacing the hands would be the only woman he'd truly love. Chakotay was crying now. Crying for his sister and the fact that the woman who now lay beneath him wasn't Kathryn. He pumped all his pain and grief into Seska, who took it all, panting his name. She was wild beneath him, and he found himself equally frenzied. There was nothing loving about this union. It was pure animal lust, and although Chakotay was coherent enough to realize that, it didn't seem to matter. To him or Seska. It was as much as a release for her as him. He saw now that this was inevitable. She had targeted him weeks ago, simply waiting for her opportunity to make her move. He was disgusted by his actions as well as hers, and yet he couldn't stop, thrusting harder, more violent with each stroke.
When he finally came, it was a physical release, nothing more. Seska tried to snuggle up to him, but he just lay on his back, not pushing her away, yet making no move to pull her close. He always looked forward to holding Kathryn in his arms after they had made love. It meant almost as much as the act itself. Perhaps that's why he couldn't bear to touch the woman next to him. The closeness he and Kathryn shared after sex was nearly sacred, and the one act he refused to defile with Seska.
She had fallen asleep; the stress of the day and her recent exertions having taken their toll. Chakotay looked at Seska as he stood to dress. She looked so innocent in sleep. Certainly not like the woman he was beginning to realize she was. He continued to stare at her, trying to decide who he despised more: Seska for taking advantage of his distraught emotional state, or himself for taking what she offered.
*********
Janeway sat in her chair on the Bridge, impatiently drumming her fingers on the armrest of her seat. Finally, Starfleet had given her the go-ahead to hunt for Chakotay. Not that they hadn't been looking while they'd been sitting on their hands, but now at least, they could do something about it. They had spotted him once, only to lose his ship amongst the others involved in the fight. *Voyager* had to remain out of the Maquis' sensor range, so there was no visual evidence that Chakotay was involved in the fight. However, *Voyager's* sensors had better long-range capabilities and did pick up a small vessel with an altered Federation warp signature. It could have been another ship the Maquis had procured, Commander Cavit pointed out. Janeway knew he was right, but she had a gut feeling: it was Chakotay. The target was a small Federation armory, the type of raid Chakotay would have chosen.
He'd commented to her once that he didn't understand why the Maquis always seemed to chose such impossibly large targets. There was almost always a greater loss of life in the bigger conflicts; the same objectives could be obtained easier, and safer, if they snuck in, did their damage, then got out. Kathryn remembered joking with Chakotay, telling him maybe he should be heading up one of the Maquis' cells. She almost smiled at the irony of it now. Did he remember their conversation? If so, why hadn't Chakotay changed his tactics, knowing how easily she would be able to second-guess him?
Now they'd lost the trail again. Kathryn thought they were close, though. There were few habitable planets in the region; from the scans they'd been able to do, it was obvious the Maquis' ships were feeling the strain of battle. They couldn't be much beyond the Tedron system, where the armory was located.
Concentrating their search in that area, Janeway was frustrated that they kept coming up empty-handed. Could the Maquis have left the system already? If so, how had they missed them? Perhaps Cavit had been right, and the ship they'd found on sensors hadn't been Chakotay's.
"Captain, I'm getting some strange readings from the third planet in the system," Harry informed her, interrupting her train of thought. She turned to look at him, waiting for an explanation.
"There's some kind of magnetic field surrounding the planet; our scans are reflecting off it."
Janeway was on her feet, nervously pacing the command level. "On screen," she ordered. A blue-green planet was displayed; automatically, Janeway was about to ask if there were any life forms on the planet when she remembered the dampening field.
"This is it," she announced to her stunned Bridge crew. "This is where he's hiding."
Commander Cavit gave her a questioning glance, wondering how she could make such a assertive statement when they had no positive evidence to support her declaration.
"I know this is a place he would hide," she said looking at her second-in-command. "It's perfect: seemingly uninhabited, temperate, off the usual trade routes, natural defenses. Wouldn't you choose this world if you wanted to disappear? Especially if you needed some time to make repairs?"
Cavit merely nodded; she had a point.
"Tuvok?" she asked. "What do you think? Is this in keeping with Maquis tactics?"
"Captain, your logic has served you well. I concur that this is a likely hide-out for a Maquis cell. But whether or not it is Chakotay's, I cannot say. It is reasonable to assume it is his, however."
Janeway smiled. She knew she was right. She could feel it. "Tom, lay in a course for that planet, full impulse," she ordered as she headed for her Ready Room. "Commander, you have the bridge."
Once in her office, Kathryn relaxed slightly. She hadn't even realized her hands had been clenched into fists until she went to sit at her desk. Her nails had left impressions in her palms; she rubbed them to soften the dents there. It wasn't until that moment she saw her hands were shaking. Sitting in her chair, she noticed her knees felt weak as well. This was it. After weeks of doing nothing but observing, the moment of Chakotay's capture was at hand. Or at least that's what she believed. A part of her almost hoped she was wrong, that she wouldn't have to fight his people and arrest him.
Kathryn had no illusions that it would be easy, that Chakotay would make it easy for her. He knew what he faced once returned to Federation space; he would fight her to the death if necessary. Not that he would be executed for his crimes; the Federation had moved beyond that. But he would be incarcerated, stripped of his freedom. To his way of thinking, death would be preferable.
What if she had to give the order to shoot him? Could she do it? Kathryn knew her feelings of betrayal and anger hadn't left her, but how would she feel when she actually saw him? Would all her old feelings come rushing back, impairing her judgment and prevent her from doing her duty?
As if to test herself, she called up Chakotay's Starfleet record onto her computer terminal. She remembered the first time she'd viewed his military history. It had been the day before Nechayev's briefing, the day she met him. Kathryn remembered how drawn she'd been to him from the first, and felt her throat tighten. Refusing to allow herself to dwell on emotions from the past, she requested the most recent picture Starfleet had of him. It had been sent to Headquarters by Nechayev's secret operative. Kathryn still didn't know his or her identity.
"Computer, enhance section three-alpha," she said, waiting a split-second for the computer to enlarge Chakotay's image. The picture was slightly out of focus, as if it had been taken quickly, without much thought. It showed Chakotay with a group of the freedom fighters. He looked as if he were explaining something to them, his face serious. Squinting at the image on her screen, Kathryn thought he looked tired, but then, they all did. Dressed in miss-matched, cast-off clothing, the bedraggled unit looked as if it were on it's last leg. But she knew better. There was more than a little fight left in the people in the photo. Looking at it now, she wondered how many of them still lived.
Another figure caught her eye and she asked for an enlargement of the woman as well. It was Lakita. Kathryn hadn't noticed her the first time she'd viewed the picture, as Lakita's body was blocked by the person in front of her. Now that she'd singled her out, Kathryn clearly recognized Chakotay's sister. Lakita looked to be listening to her brother's instructions, her devotion clearly written on her features. Kathryn rubbed her hands over her face, trying not to think of spirited young woman she had briefly met on her visit to Dorvan. For all the pain she herself felt over the Maquis situation, what must it be like for Chakotay's family, she wondered. It wasn't the first time she had thought about their fate, but seeing the picture of Lakita drove the thought home. She had actual visual evidence of what the struggle had done to their family.
Still, it didn't excuse Chakotay's behavior. If only he could have shown her this, explained why he had to do something to help them, she might have understood. As it was, she was facing the possibility that she might have to be the one to make the decision of Chakotay's life or death. Another burden he'd placed on her shoulders.
*********
Chakotay walked into the forest, hoping to find a quiet spot where he could contact the Spirits. He'd yet to be successful. Ever since his return to Dorvan, he'd tried to talk to his ancestors, to confirm his choices, but they remained as silent as ever. Even the exercises Naya suggested hadn't helped. He was angry at the Spirits' silence, even though he knew such an attitude was non-conducive to the activity. The Spirits wouldn't respond to such negative thoughts.
He found a small, grassy clearing among the trees and sank to the ground. Laying his medicine bundle before him, he carefully undid the ties and removed his *Akoonah*. There were few objects in the bundle: the wing of a blackbird, a carved stone from Dorvan V, a stone from Lake George that was the other half of the one he'd fashioned into a necklace for Kathryn, and some strands of her hair. She had this part of him in her box of "treasures," and he wanted the same of her, although, she probably wasn't aware he had taken the strands from her brush. Kathryn had shared some of the contents of her "medicine bundle" with him, but he'd never returned the favor. At the time, he felt slightly embarrassed by his People's religion, and kept his bundle more out of habit than actual belief. Like Terrans who kept a Bible but never opened it to read it.
But today wasn't about Kathryn. He still thought of her daily, but the answers he sought today had to do with Lakita. Ever since her death he found himself questioning everything: The Maquis, Starfleet, his own beliefs, Kathryn. There was a time when she had been the center of it all, had given meaning to his existence, but he could no longer count on her presence in his life. He had to find another center; out of desperation, he turned to the spiritual beliefs of his People.
Chakotay hadn't spoken to Seska since the night of Lakita's death. Not because he'd been directly avoiding her, but circumstances had placed them in situations that hadn't allowed them time to discuss what had happened between them. He had to admit he'd been grateful for the distractions. What would he say to her? He was certainly determined to see that it didn't happen again. He felt so wretched the next day that he closed himself off in the Runabout to do repairs alone, feeling he wasn't fit company. Most of the Maquis assumed his behavior was connected to Lakita's death, and left him to himself.
He wasn't here to think of Seska either. He wanted, *needed* to have the Spirits reassure him Lakita was with them, finally safe. He had done his best to repeat the ritual words at her funeral. Even though it wasn't the beautiful ceremony his People had come to expect, they'd been moved by their leader's love and devotion to his sister.
Chakotay picked up the *Akoonah*. Taking a deep breath he began with the ceremonial words: "*Akoocheemoya* I am far from the bones of my People." His voice was shaking. Why was he so afraid? Afraid he'd hear the Spirits at last, or that they would remain silent? He tried to shut his doubts out of his mind as he pressed his fingers once more onto the *Akoonah*.
Chakotay's mind began to drift, the forest around him changing slightly. It was more a shift of perception, the landscape taking on a surreal look.
"Hello?" Chakotay's mind asked tentatively. Silence. He found himself instantly angry. This had been a bad idea. Anything having to do with his People's spirituality had always been a bad idea.
"Fine!" he found his mind crying out to the shimmering, shifting landscape. "I've gotten by this long without you, I don't need you now!" Chakotay started to pull back from the scene before him when he heard his father's voice in his head.
"Stop acting like a petulant child, Chakotay; you can't force answers from the Spirits with threats."
"*Ahtay?*" Chakotay's mind questioned, but there was no response. Had he really heard the man or was it merely wishful thinking?
"Is Lakita with you?" he tried. A long silence. So long that Chakotay wondered if he were being ignored again. Then, a whisper of a confirmation.
"She is here. Go now."
The next thing he knew, he was hearing the twittering of birds, seeing the forest as he had only moments ago. Had his father really spoken to him? Had he truly made contact with him? Could he trust the words and believe Lakita was with him? Chakotay had no physical evidence, but he did feel better. More at peace than he'd felt in a long time. It hadn't been more than a few seconds of communion, but he was beginning to understand why his People clung so fiercely to their beliefs.
Chakotay noticed the angle of the sun and realized how late it had become, although he'd had but a glimpse of the Spirits. His cell had a long way to go to being ready for the next raid; he shouldn't be wasting precious time dwelling on his religious revelations. With a new determination, he headed back towards the encampment. Even though he felt a new personal calm, the underlying feeling that something big was about to happen hadn't left him. Gods, what he wouldn't give for a clairvoyant among his cell!
**********
"Captain, we're approaching Tedron III," Tom Paris' voice came over Janeway's comm badge.
"Acknowledged," she answered, exiting her office. Lowering herself into her chair, she instructed the Pilot to assume a standard orbit. Janeway turned to Harry. "Are the sensors picking up anything?"
"Negative, Captain. That magnetic field is still restricting our scans."
Turning to her First Officer, she said, "Commander, assemble an away team. I suppose you'll have to take the shuttles since it won't be possible to beam through the field I think you should. . ."
"Captain!" Harry's excited voice interrupted her. "I'm detecting ships. . .several ships on the other side of the planet!
Janeway as instantly on her feet. "Commander, belay that order, Tom turn us about and lay in a pursuit course. All hands: battle stations." The tension level on the Bridge rose several notches as the lighting dimmed.
"Apparently, they didn't have any trouble spotting us," Janeway grumbled as she attempted to relax into her chair. She was still fidgeting, but she knew she'd only make the crew more uneasy if she paced as she wanted to.
"Harry, scan those ships. See if you can find Chakotay; he's our priority. If we get a few others along with him, so much the better, but I want to make sure we don't miss *this* opportunity." Janeway looked up as B'Elanna entered the Bridge, apologizing for her tardiness.
"I'm sorry, Captain. I just wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly in Engineering."
"Understood, Lieutenant. Take your post."
"I found him!" Harry cried. Janeway was beginning to wonder if the young Ensign would ever inform her without it being an exclamation. "He's on the third ship off our port bow!"
"How many people are on that ship?" Janeway asked.
"I'm getting a reading of about twenty life forms," Harry said. Janeway considered her options. She wasn't going to try to bring in the whole cell. Although the Maquis ships were small, and not equipped with the same weaponry as *Voyager*, they could still do some damage. They could swarm the ship like gnats, taking pot shots at *Voyager*, just enough to distract them for Chakotay and his crew to escape. Or, she could forgo the majority of the Rebels and be pretty confident that she could capture Chakotay. What was the old saying? One in the hand was worth two in the bush? Nechayev had made it clear. Chakotay was the one they wanted the most; the others could wait.
"Lock a tractor beam onto that ship and bring it into the Shuttle Bay," she ordered. "Tuvok, send a security team down there to greet our 'guests' when they arrive. And make sure our people are equipped with phaser rifles; they won't be taken without a fight."
"Aye, Captain," Tuvok replied. "Permission to accompany the team?"
"You can go later, right now I need you here."
"Understood." Tuvok worked rapidly to pick his best people to meet the Maquis, making sure they would be in place by the time the ship was ensconced in the Bay.
"The Maquis ships are coming about!" Harry announced.
"Steady as she goes, Mr. Paris, I want that ship onboard before we start taking any evasive actions."
Janeway wouldn't be constrained to her chair now. Pacing the command level she looked to Commander Cavit. "Any suggestions?"
"None at this time, Captain. Until the Maquis vessel is secured, there's not a lot we can do."
"How much longer, Tuvok?"
"Just a few more minutes," he replied dispassionately.
"Wait! They're sending some kind of feedback wave through our tractor beam!" Harry informed. "It's breaking up!"
"Compensate!" Janeway cried.
"I. . .I can't. We've lost the tractor beam."
"B'Elanna, can you get a transporter lock on Chakotay?" Janeway asked.
"I'm trying, Captain, but there are several Dorvan natives on board, he's hard to pick out. . . . I think I've got him!"
Just then *Voyager* was hit with a barrage of weapons fire, jolting Janeway into her chair.
"Report!" she cried.
"Minimal damage, shields are holding," Tuvok told her.
"B'Elanna! Keep working on that transporter lock. Tom, evasive maneuvers."
"Aye, Captain," Tom said, his fingers moving swiftly over his console.
"They seem to be targeting our weapons and propulsion systems," Tuvok's blaze' voice spoke behind her. "Apparently, they have been well trained," he said. "They are concentrating their firepower on the weakest part of our shields."
No one had to wonder who had exposed *Voyager's* vulnerabilities.
"I can't seem to get a lock on him," B'Elanna stated, frustration edging her voice. "They're using some kind of destabilizing field that won't let me get a clean lock. Apparently, they anticipated this move from us as well." Her fingers continued to tap the panel before her as another round of fire rocked the ship.
"I've got an idea," B'Elanna said, reconfiguring the transporter parameters from her station. "I'm going to try a skeletal lock."
"A skeletal lock?" Janeway questioned. The rest of the Bridge crew must have been equally surprised as they all turned to stare at her.
"I don't have time to explain, but I think it might work."
"Do it," Janeway ordered.
"Initializing lock. . .got him!" B'Elanna cried.
"Beam him directly to the Brig. Tuvok, reassign your security team to Deck 9." Janeway instructed.
Another wave of weapons burst over *Voyager's* hull and Tuvok reported shields down to thirty percent. "The next hit will undoubtedly be the last the shields will be able to withstand. I would suggest we retreat as we are out numbered and have what we came for."
*Voyager* had been returning fire on the Maquis, but there were just too many ships for them to effectively fight. The smaller, more maneuverable craft buzzed past *Voyager*, stinging the ship, then retreating to circle around to pepper the Federation vessel with phasers.
"Agreed, Tuvok," Janeway said. She was about to give the order to back away from the Maquis when the ship was buffeted by several direct hits. Janeway fell to the floor as warning klaxons blared around her. Smoke was coming from several panels and her crew was hurrying to put them out. Harry and Tuvok were getting damage reports from several areas on the ship, but most notably Engineering; the warp engines were down.
"B'Elanna, get down to Engineering and see what you can do about getting our warp dive back on-line. Tom, continue to back us off, full impulse." Janeway watched the viewscreen to see if the Maquis intended to persue them. Perhaps they hadn't known how effective their strike against *Voyager* had been, as they chose not to follow them. Maybe they had suffered more losses than Janeway realized. Whatever the reason, the two sides fell back to lick their wounds. This wasn't over, and both sides knew it.
Janeway heaved a sigh of relief. They had a reprieve, at least for the moment. Rubbing her neck she seemed to be stalling her next move. She ordered repair teams to the Bridge and other damaged areas before heading to the Brig. The moment of truth was at hand. She'd been waiting weeks for this moment, but now she found she was rooted to the spot. She saw Cavit look at her as if to question why she were still on the Bridge, now that the initial crisis was over.
"I can handle things here, Captain," Commander Cavit said, gently nudging her back to the duty she knew she had to perform.
Finding her voice she said, "Thank you, Commander. Tuvok, you're with me. I'll be on Deck 9."