Time to make a few changes, he knew. "Computer, run subroutine Chakotay Alpha 3 Gamma." Instantly, the distant sounds of boardwalk crowds were replaced by the lonely roar of the surf as it crashed to the shore. On the beach in front of him appeared a large veranda, attached to no other structure, but offering an uninterrupted view of the ocean. On its marble surface was a long, deep-blue velvet couch facing out to the sea, with a replicated bottle of Moet 2285 and two delicately-cut crystal glasses in an ice bucket alongside. The moon was now out and full, casting a blue glow over the entire beach.
'Nice work, B'Elanna,' he thought. The beach wasn't his idea of the most romantic setting, but he wasn't doing this for himself. He had asked his friend to come up with something Kathryn would enjoy. They had agreed upon this almost immediately.
He still had ten minutes before she was to arrive. He took a moment to prepare himself for what he was going to say. Also to prepare himself in case she decided not to come at all. This was risky for both of them, he knew, but he hoped he was about to make it less so.
Only a minute late, his heart stopped and restarted as he heard the doors open. He turned around to see her in an emerald version of that same silk pantsuit he knew so well. She kicked off her sandals and carried them as she started to walk toward him, tentatively, across the sand.
"This is nice," she said, hoping to sound casual. "The mid-Atlantic coast of North America, if I know my oceans correctly."
He smiled, "Always the scientist." She was stepping up onto the firm decking, but chose not to put her shoes back on. Instead, she walked slowly toward the ocean side, and took a deep breath of holographic salt air. He followed a few paces behind. "Do you have a theory as to why I asked you here?" he teased.
"I'm not sure I'd have to apply the scientific method to determine that," she answered. "Chakotay..."
He wasn't ready to let her take control of the conversation. "You might be surprised," he said a little slyly. "I wanted you to know about a decision I've made."
Wow. 'Decision' sounded so finite. And indicated something that might be out of her control. She hated having someone else make decisions for her--too long in the center seat, she surmised, though she knew this had been true as much in her youth as in her career. "Really," she said softly. "A decision to..."
"Quit." His answer was firm and short, yet still ambiguous.
Quit what? Quit waiting for her to come to her senses? Quit looking at her in ways that made her knees weak? Quit going home alone to an empty bed after a long talk with her over an intimate dinner in her quarters. She found no way to voice these questions, instead repeating his word back to him. "Quit?" she asked. Deep breath, Kathryn.
"Starfleet."
And exhale. "What?" was all she could come up with in reply.
"I've decided to resign before I can be dismissed," he answered. "As soon as we get home. I've been thinking about this for a long while, but I knew--as long as we were stuck in the Delta Quadrant--that it was important for my old crew to have me continue to serve as first officer. And I felt my training and experience could help us all get home. These years on Voyager have been extraordinary. They reminded me of why I went to the Academy in the first place. Working with honorable people, a chance for peaceful exploration, getting to learn about different cultures and to share some of our values with those we meet." He was sincere. "I'm not a bit sorry to have had this experience." He took a few steps toward her before continuing.
"But I've also been reminded of the ways all these rules and protocols can enslave a person. We've come across countless peoples we could have helped were it not for the almighty Prime Directive.' Starfleet stood by and let diplomatic process give my father's killers a strategic advantage, yet how often have we been forced into a similar situation ourselves? It will only be worse when we get home."
Janeway suddenly noticed that he seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as her. Was he playing 'Maquis' to give her a reason to reject him? Was he steeling himself for the possibility that the choice to stay or leave the service might be out of his hands? She couldn't tell, but something about his arguments seemed a little forced.
"What will you do?" she asked, hoping his answer would reveal the truth.
"If I'm allowed to choose my next career, I've decided to request an anthropology fellowship at the Goodall Center in South America," he answered. So, this wasn't an idle impulse; he had thought this out, she was now sure. "I thought maybe I would settle down on Earth for a while. Get back to the kind of work I enjoy the most. Maybe write a paper on unveiling the Mars Explorer mystery in my spare time." This was it, then. He was going to leave her. This setting was all about breaking the news.
"I also thought I might look up someone I got to know a few years ago." It took her a moment to follow this turn in the conversation. "A woman I had settled down with briefly a while back." Was he just trying to hurt her, now? "She reminds me of you, a bit," he went on. "Her hair was red, but longer, and she was devoted to science, too. We set up a small homestead and started to make a life together, but circumstances separated us before we could make any kind of long-term commitment to each other." He began taking slow, measured steps toward her. "She liked to take long, hot baths, and she had the most adventurous spirit of any woman I have ever known. I haven't seen her in about five years."
The math added up before his story did. 'New Earth.' He was talking about their time on 'New Earth.' "Chakotay..."
He was now standing in front of her with his finger across her lips. "I've spent almost every day since that time trying to figure out how to win her back, if we should ever see each other again. I'm not sure she'll have me, but I could never live with myself if I didn't at least try." He started to lean in to kiss her, but she pulled away and took his hand, walking him over to sit on the couch. They faced each other, and this time it was her turn to speak.
"My people have an ancient legend," she began softly, co-opting a technique he had used so long ago, "about a great female warrior, a woman so strong, she needed nothing but her sword and her shield for protection. She set out on a great quest, to hunt down and capture another warrior, a man who knew only anger and rage. She was prepared to battle her opponent to the death. But a great storm came, and swept their armies far from home. These two warriors realized that--to save their men and return to their village--they would have to work together to lead their people to safety. Soon they realized that the reasons for their battle were unimportant. They had come to know and understand the other's true nature, and they made a solemn oath--never to forget that what united them was of more importance than their divisions. And each devoted his life to the other's happiness." She reached down and took his hand before she continued. "But the brave warrior was now her soldier, and the weight of their journey was hers. Her duty and her honor would keep her from him, until at last they reached their homes." She looked into his eyes through the mist in her own. She remembered. He was touched.
"'Is that really an ancient legend?'" he quoted her.
"'No, but it made it a lot easier to say.'" With that, they smiled at the irony of their lives, and she, finally, leaned over to kiss the brave warrior who had fought so gallantly by her side for so long.
"I've been in love with you for six years," he said softly as their lips parted, deciding that someone in this relationship had to get the courage to speak in something other than metaphor.
"I know," she said. "You understand why I couldn't..."
"I understand why you felt you couldn't return my feelings."
She laughed a bit at that. "Return your attentions," she corrected. "The feelings I have definitely returned." This was a huge admission and she was glad it was finally out there. "At first, there was Mark, or the memory of him. I think it took me a while to realize that there wouldn't be any shortcut home. I was engaged to a man I loved, and I would be faithful to my heart. Little did I know that, by the time I was able to let him go and move on, he had already beaten me to
it." She looked only slightly wistful at the memory. "And there was my duty to this crew. How could they trust my objectivity, my authority..."
"If they knew you were romantically involved with a subordinate. I do understand, Kathryn. You live and breathe Starfleet regulations. I've come to accept that as part of who you are. But we're almost home. A week from now, I hope to be on my way to becoming another Federation civilian, going about the business of making a life for myself. Tell me that life can include a stubborn, rule-following, Starfleet captain."
She smiled, searching her mind for any reasonable objection to his plea. She supposed she had so many years of practice keeping him at an emotional arm's-length, it would take a while for her to get out of the habit. "I'll have my command, and my assignments," she warned him.
"And I'll have my expeditions and research," he hoped. "Just avoid any coherent tetrion beams, and come home to me once in a while. I've gotten used to waiting for you, Kathryn. Just don't make me wait my whole life." This time, he initiated the kiss, and she was glad to return it.
"I have no plans to live in the top of a tree in the Amazon Rain Forest," she said turning to lean her back against the couch and gaze out over the water.
"Can you see me in farm country?" he asked honestly, taking her right hand in his left and intertwining their fingers.
"I'd like to," she said playfully. He pulled their interlocked hands up and kissed hers.
"We could alternate," he offered as they began to talk about a future. A time when, maybe, a Starfleet captain and a learned anthropologist might have nothing more to worry about than where to make their home.
They sat there on that couch, looking up at the stars, talking about choices of hometowns, the places they could go to dinner, planning his introduction to her sister, their mutual love of dogs (thank god--that would have been a deal-breaker). Then they opened the champagne and toasted to the future. A future they could only talk about, because--for now--he was still her first officer, and she his captain. They had waited almost seven years. They could wait another seven days.
~ * ~ * ~
PART 4--BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY:
Harry was holding onto the ops console for dear life. "Twenty-thousand light years and closing."
B'Elanna's voice was shouting over the open comlink. "We're starting to show fluctuations in the core pressure."
Now it was Seven's voice they heard, "Attempting to compensate."
Tom's fingers worked furiously trying to translate his thoughts into action as quickly as possible to keep up with the ever-changing shape of the conduit before them. "I'm reading gravimetric shear directly ahead. Attempting to maneuver around the wake."
Tuvok: "Power fluctuations are increasing. The deflector wedge is destabilizing."
Kim was shouting now, "Hull breach on Deck 11! It's decompressed the entire deck!"
There was the sudden sound of metal tearing and violent crashing over the com before it went silent. Tom could only shake off the horrible thoughts running through his mind. He had to stay in the moment. The bridge began to undulate violently. Seconds later it was over.
~*~*~*~*~
This was their sixth simulation of the day (the seventeenth in thirty-six hours), and the third time they'd risen from the dead since breakfast. Each time, it seemed, a different key system failed not long into their trip. Sometimes they'd lose helm control and fly into the 'wall' of the singularity. Once, the ship developed a harmonic vibration, which shook the starboard nacelle right off. And now, their most common foe had risen to defeat them--the collapse of their structural integrity field. This morning they were well below the 62% success rate predicted by their initial projections. Things seemed to get worse the more they practiced.
"Janeway to Holodeck 1."
"Torres here, Captain." Tom was relieved to hear her voice, even if her recent death had been only theoretical.
"What now, B'Elanna?" their captain asked.
"Looks like we developed another pin-hole coolant leak. Not enough to set off the alarms, but enough to destabilize the pressure. I've asked Carey to run some more scans, but the leaks seem to develop randomly inside the plasma conduits. We might not be able to do anything except be aware of the potential problem and monitor it as we go."
"That's not good enough, B'Elanna," Janeway shot back. They were all getting tired.
It was Seven who replied. "It will have to be, Captain. Lieutenant Torres cannot repair a malfunction that has not yet occurred, and there's no way to anticipate where a rupture will form until it's opened." Everyone expected the chief engineer to respond in some way that indicated she could fight her own battles, but--whether out of exhaustion or gratitude--she let Seven's comments stand.
"Captain," Chakotay interrupted, "I'm more concerned about the gravimetric disturbance Tom reported just before we broke up."
The pilot agreed, "Me, too. That's the first time we've seen one that size. It was hard to avoid."
Janeway took a deep breath and sighed. "Computer," she called out. "Reset simulations in Holodecks 1 and 2 and synchronize." She spoke to her exhausted crew. "Let's try this one more time...."
~*~*~*~*~
The mess hall was unusually quiet for 1900 hours as the bridge crew--minus their captain--practically crawled through the doors. Collectively, they had been burned, frozen, dismembered, imploded and exploded several times in the course of this workday, and the 'projected damage,' was causing real physical side effects. The good news: the last three simulations had them reach the Alpha Quadrant a bit bruised and battered but alive. Janeway had decided to call it a night while they were on a roll.
Neelix was turning down the flame on the leftovers from dinner when they arrived. Since the captain had restored their rations, fewer of the crew were eating his cooking. He supposed that was understandable, but it did make him more aware of how little he had to do these days. Everyone else on board (besides Naomi Wildman) had a specific role to play in readying the ship for their mission. Neelix was feeling a little unnecessary. He was glad to see his friends--his first customers in over an hour--come in and sit down.
Harry draped himself over an empty chair and Chakotay stretched out the tired muscles in his neck and shoulders. Tom walked to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee; his first officer indicated he'd like one as well. Tuvok, Mister 'I can go a week without sleep,' was dragging his feet less than the rest of the men, but even he would have admitted to being less than his best.
As Tom turned to head for their table, Neelix couldn't help but notice he hadn't asked for anything to eat. "I'm just heating up the leftover pleeka rind casserole! Let me get you some."
Tom was too tired to hold back the nauseous impulse he felt at the thought of this particular dish, but he didn't want to hurt his friend's feelings. "Gee, thanks, Neelix, but B'Elanna's expecting me for dinner in about an hour." He forced himself to sniff the air deeply. He was instantly sorry. "Smells great, though." Neelix's face fell, but he understood. Another customer lost to the replicators. Tom could sense the chef's disappointment, and decided to turn Neelix's attentions to a more willing victim.
"Harry," he called over to the table, "didn't you just tell me you had a craving for some pleeka rind casserole?"
Amazingly enough, the ensign perked up at the thought. "Hey, great--I'd love some." Even Chakotay rolled his eyes at Harry's enthusiasm for this very...pungent dish. Yet the much-maligned leola roots and pleeka rinds had kept this crew fed and healthy for most of their journey. He had to admit, though, he was looking forward to eliminating them from his diet permanently. But if Tom could pawn some off on Harry...
"Neelix, bring Mr. Tuvok a tray, too," the commander said with an evil look in his eye. Vulcan mental powers were known across the galaxy, but Chakotay was now glad they didn't extend to telekinesis. If they had, he would certainly be receiving a mental neck pinch from across the table.
"Don't bother yourself, Mr. Neelix," Tuvok tried to decline.
&nbs
p; "Oh, it's no bother at all," the cook was glad to oblige. Chakotay had to pull his coffee cup to his mouth to hide his smile. He was coming to appreciate what Harry and Tom had always seen in tormenting the Vulcan. He was such an easy target.
Neelix filled two trays and, before walking to sit them before Kim and Tuvok, picked up a bottle and five cups. He sat the trays before the diners, and put a cup at every chair. "Gentlemen, while the Ensign and Commander enjoy their dinners, I was wondering if you would join me for a little Irenic Brandy. I've been saving four bottles for a special occasion, but--I guess I'm feeling like I need a little cheering up tonight."
"What's wrong, Neelix?" Chakotay wondered sincerely.
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