Star Trek: Voyager®: Full Circle

by Kirsten Beyer

  Pretty words, Kahless thought. But they are only words. The second our interests diverge, T’Krek will remember that he serves no one but himself and a millennium-old grudge.

  Once this little formality was complete, T’Krek turned his attention to Grapk and D’Kang, who stepped down off the transport platform and were each embraced by T’Krek as if they were family members long ago given up for dead.

  “Welcome home, brothers,” T’Krek said heartily. “You have done well.” Grapk and D’Kang then moved to embrace the other assembled warriors in a similar fashion.

  He glanced briefly at B’Elanna, who was watching the proceedings like a patrolling sabre bear. Doubt flickered furtively across her face when Grapk and D’Kang’s allegiance was revealed. Kahless had known that T’Krek had sent these two to Boreth, undoubtedly to watch B’Elanna and Miral. They had both fought with honor at his side, and he trusted them as far as he trusted any of T’Krek’s men.

  Just as he was about to step aside to introduce B’Elanna, she whispered in his ear, “Remind me to ask you something later.”

  Kahless nodded, then turned again to T’Krek, who was now staring at B’Elanna with disdain.

  “Captain T’Krek,” Kahless said, “this is my companion, B’Elanna Torres, daughter of Miral.”

  “She is the one you spoke of, the thing’s mother?” T’Krek said, not bothering to hide his contempt.

  B’Elanna tensed at Kahless’s side. To her credit, she took a deep breath and refused to rise to T’Krek’s bait. Unfortunately, he didn’t take this for the gift it truly was.

  “You are a mongrel,” he spat at B’Elanna.

  “I’m half human and half Klingon,” B’Elanna replied with dignity worthy of the Lady Lukara.

  T’Krek moved to stand directly across from B’Elanna. Only the extra height she gained by remaining on the transporter pad allowed them to see eye to eye.

  “The emperor may ask of me what he wishes. By what right do you dare board my vessel and seek my assistance?” T’Krek growled.

  In a flash, Logt, who had been behind Kahless the entire time, moved between B’Elanna and T’Krek and punched him squarely in the jaw.

  “Hold your tongue, old man,” she shouted, “and take care before you again address the mother of the Kuvah’magh.”

  T’Krek recovered from the blow, laughing heartily. His men joined him, clearly itching for a fight. T’Krek then drew his bat’leth from a leather strap wound across his back as Logt simultaneously drew her mek’leth.

  “Logt!” B’Elanna shouted.

  As every eye in the room turned to her, B’Elanna drew her own bat’leth and stepped forward.

  “I’m the one he’s challenging,” B’Elanna said clearly to Logt.

  “Anyone who challenges you must first get through me,” Logt replied, not taking her eyes from T’Krek.

  “Not today,” B’Elanna replied.

  It clearly took every ounce of self-restraint Logt possessed for her to nod and move aside.

  T’Krek stepped away from the pad toward the center of the room as the others quickly formed a circle around him and B’Elanna, grunting and growling in approval.

  B’Elanna was the first to strike. T’Krek, who had a head and a half on her in height, blocked it easily, but was clearly surprised a little by the strength behind the blow. Kahless wondered if T’Krek had any idea how dangerous a foe he currently faced. B’Elanna had too much to lose at the moment.

  B’Elanna then raised her weapon again in a series of blows that T’Krek had a harder time dodging and parrying. She moved quickly, almost frantically, as if all of the frustrations of the last few hours had finally been given the release they needed. Still, there was little tactical skill in B’Elanna’s maneuvers, and Kahless worried that nerve and adrenaline were going to get her only so far.

  The room, which had until now been filled with shouts of encouragement for T’Krek, grew suddenly silent. With B’Elanna’s last charge she had managed to graze T’Krek’s forearm with her blade, drawing blood.

  The emperor didn’t understand this mistake. It should have been an easy enough blow for T’Krek to block, but his attention seemed somehow divided.

  As B’Elanna backed off to regroup, T’Krek surprised everyone by raising one hand to signal his forfeit and dropping his own bat’leth to the floor.

  “I concede the victory to B’Elanna Torres, on one condition,” T’Krek said sternly.

  B’Elanna looked as if she wouldn’t be satisfied by anything less than T’Krek’s head on the end of her bat’leth, but her breath was now coming in great heaves, and she only nodded in assent, even as she continued to shoot d’k tahgs at him with her eyes.

  “May I see that bat’leth?” T’Krek asked.

  B’Elanna held it up where she stood, its sharp side leveled at T’Krek’s neck. It was a petulant gesture, but T’Krek deserved it.

  T’Krek approached her fearlessly and examined its surface area as she held it aloft. Suddenly he gasped and focused intently on an indentation, a decorative trefoil in the center of the blade. Then a wide grin of triumph spread across his face.

  “My brothers,” T’Krek declared to all, “behold the end of our search.”

  To Kahless’s amazement, T’Krek and all of his men knelt down and bowed their heads before B’Elanna.

  B’Elanna shot a worried glance at the emperor, who simply nodded to suggest she just go with it.

  After a somber moment, T’Krek rose.

  “You are most welcome among us, B’Elanna Torres, daughter of Miral,” he said as reverently as he had first greeted the emperor.

  “Fine,” B’Elanna replied warily. “You want to explain to me why?”

  “The bat’leth you are holding,” T’Krek said, “where did it come from?”

  B’Elanna seemed disconcerted by the ease with which T’Krek had moved from foe to friend, but she was wise enough to prefer talking to fighting.

  “A warrior named Kohlar, whose people traveled tens of thousands of light-years from Qo’noS, gave it to me when I encountered him in the Delta quadrant.”

  “Are you aware of its history?” T’Krek asked.

  “It was his father’s,” B’Elanna replied, “and his grandfather’s before that.”

  “May I?” T’Krek asked.

  Despite her obvious misgivings, B’Elanna handed the blade to T’Krek. He then pointed to the trefoil.

  “Do you see this?”

  “I have eyes,” B’Elanna replied harshly.

  “But do you know what you are seeing?”

  From the look on her face, she clearly had to concede that she did not.

  “This is the mark of Hal’korin,” T’Krek said patiently. “And this bat’leth is the final piece to a puzzle the Warriors of Gre’thor have been trying to solve for a thousand years.”

  At that, a raucous cheer was raised by the others. As B’Elanna turned to face Kahless, he could see in her eyes that she now shared his thoughts.

  Neither of them was sure that this was a good thing.

  “Of course I told Admiral Montgomery that if the Borg ever do make another assault on the Alpha quadrant, transphasic torpedoes are going to be our best defense, Temporal Investigations be damned.”

  “Uh-huh.” Chakotay nodded politely.

  Kathryn knew he wasn’t really listening. By her estimation, he hadn’t heard a word she’d said for at least five minutes.

  “And I know Admiral Nechayev agrees,” Janeway went on, “though frankly I was incredibly shocked when she arrived at our meeting stark naked.”

  “Right.”

  “Admiral Montgomery didn’t seem to notice,” she went on. “I guess things at Starfleet Command have changed quite a bit since we left…”

  “Mm-hmm,” Chakotay murmured, then paused as her words finally pierced his internal musings. “What?”

  Kathryn smiled.

  “Not a pretty mental picture, is it?”

  “Sorry. My mind was
wandering,” Chakotay admitted.

  “That much I gathered.”

  They had already recycled their dinner plates but lingered at the table in Chakotay’s quarters, he nursing a glass of Antarean cider and she working on a cup of cappuccino.

  “You want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Kathryn offered. “Or maybe just what’s bothering you the most right now?”

  Janeway had always known that Chakotay would make an excellent captain, and she had lobbied for him to be assigned to Voyager. But she also knew just how lonely command could be. She had looked to him or to Tuvok when she needed counsel. He had Tom, and if memory served, Voyager had been provided with a full-time ship’s counselor since Chakotay had assumed command. But Janeway knew all too well that Chakotay was a deeply private person. The admiral couldn’t imagine how bad things would have to get before he chose to open up to either of those two options.

  “I’m wondering if we’re really the best people for this particular mission,” Chakotay said.

  “The mission to Kerovi?”

  Chakotay nodded. “Yes, we’ve already interacted with the Changeling, and our experience should serve us well. But we were also his victims, and that’s going to be pretty hard to compartmentalize when we’re face-to-face again.”

  “We’ve talked about this before, Chakotay,” Kathryn said, her voice full of sympathy. “I know what you suffered, not just for yourself and Doctor Kaz, but for Sekaya.”

  “Watching my sister die, or almost die, was certainly the worst of it.”

  “I understand you’ve been assigned a new ship’s counselor,” Janeway said. “I think you should make sure he’s fully briefed on your experiences at Loran II and insist that he accompany your team when it comes time to interrogate the Changeling. He should be able to provide you with a healthy perspective.”

  “And I would, if I weren’t planning to have him transferred the moment we return to Earth.”

  Kathryn was taken aback. “He’s that bad?”

  Chakotay nodded. “Remember the complaints we got when the Doctor was first activated about his bedside manner?”

  Kathryn smiled wistfully. The ship’s former Emergency Medical Hologram had grown into such a supportive and compassionate physician during their time in the Delta quadrant that it was hard to reconcile what he was now with what he had been in those early months.

  “Counselor Cambridge has only completed one full duty shift today and three of the five crewmen he met with have already written complaints.”

  “Really?” Kathryn grimaced.

  “The best reports found him mildly dismissive and a little hostile.”

  “Have you had a chance to speak with him?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And what did you think?”

  “I think dismissive and hostile are a little generous.”

  “Well, I can hardly wait to meet him.”

  “Indeed.” Chakotay nodded. “You’d just better hope you don’t end up needing his services on this trip. What I can’t understand is why everyone at Starfleet Medical is so taken with him. His record is filled with glowing recommendations.”

  “What species is he?” Kathryn asked.

  “British,” Chakotay replied.

  Kathryn chuckled lightly in response before adding, “Maybe he takes some time to get to know.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Chakotay said skeptically.

  “Ops to Admiral Janeway,” Lyssa Campbell’s voice rang out over the comm system.

  “Janeway here.”

  “You have a priority transmission from Starfleet Command.”

  “Route it to the captain’s quarters,” Janeway replied, rising to cross to Chakotay’s comm station at his desk and activating the interface.

  A few seconds later, Decan’s ever-composed face appeared before her.

  “Good evening, Admiral,” he greeted her. “I have Ambassador Worf for you.”

  “Put him through,” Kathryn said briskly as Chakotay rose to stand opposite her while she received Worf’s report.

  “Before I do so, Admiral, I wanted to let you know that Captain Eden has requested you contact her from Voyager as soon as your schedule allows.”

  Kathryn sighed.

  “Did I cancel that appointment this morning?” she asked, knowing full well she had forgotten to do so before boarding Voyager.

  “No, Admiral,” Decan said evenly. “I took the liberty of contacting Captain Eden first thing when I arrived, but by then you were already several hours overdue for your meeting with her.”

  “I’m sorry, Decan.”

  “I did pass your apologies along to her.”

  Kathryn looked up to see Chakotay doing his best to hide a smile at her embarrassment.

  “Tell Eden I’ll be in touch as soon as possible,” Kathryn replied. “Now let’s not keep the ambassador waiting any longer.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  After a brief interlude in which Decan’s face was replaced by the blue and white seal of the Federation, Ambassador Worf’s face suddenly glowered before her.

  Janeway knew Worf by reputation and a few brief conversations. She also knew that most Klingons wore a semipermanent scowl that often belied a well-hidden but slightly warmer spirit. Worf’s expression now gave no hint of that warmth, only cold frustration.

  “Good evening, Mister Ambassador,” Kathryn said sternly. “You have news?”

  “I do, Admiral,” Worf replied, “and I wish it were better.”

  Kathryn’s gut tensed, but she nodded for him to continue.

  “Five days ago, there was an attack on the monastery at Boreth.”

  “What kind of attack?” Janeway demanded.

  “Three warriors were found dead in the monastery’s nursery. The child, Miral Paris, is missing, as is her mother, Emperor Kahless, and a member of his personal guard, Commander Logt,” Worf reported.

  “Do you have any idea who was responsible for the attack?” Kathryn asked, doing her best to keep her fears tightly reined.

  “Not at this time,” Worf replied. “As Lieutenant Commander Torres was a guest of the empire during her stay on Boreth, this is still considered an internal Klingon matter. Unfortunately, the Federation cannot interfere with the ongoing investigation by the Klingon authorities unless we are formally asked to do so.”

  “But they are investigating?”

  “Of course,” Worf replied. “Chancellor Martok has taken a personal interest in these developments and has demanded hourly updates on the progress of the investigation. He is, however, unwilling to entertain any action at this time by the Federation, though I have offered it repeatedly.”

  “The chancellor is worried because Kahless is missing,” Kathryn surmised. She could see in Worf’s subtle nod that she had guessed right. “But there is no way to know at this time whether or not B’Elanna and Miral are with him.”

  “That is correct.”

  “That is unacceptable, Ambassador.”

  “I concur, Admiral,” Worf said. “Which is why I have made the Federation’s position regarding the safety of its citizens in Klingon space abundantly clear to the chancellor. He has assured me he takes this matter very seriously, but for now, there is nothing more that you or I can do. I will update you the moment I have further news.”

  It took all of Janeway’s diplomatic training to make the “Thank you, Mister Ambassador” with which she signed off sound moderately congenial.

  Once the connection was terminated, she looked immediately to Chakotay. His hand was at his brow, slowly massaging the deep worry lines formed along his tattooed forehead.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  A heavy sigh escaped Chakotay’s lips as he began to pace the room.

  “I think we have to hope that Martok gets to the bottom of this before both of us lose our minds worrying about B’Elanna and Miral,” he replied.

  “And in the interim?”

  Chakotay looked at her, questioning. F
inally he answered, “In the interim we continue on our current mission.”

  Kathryn had expected that this would be his response. Despite his Maquis background, of the two of them, he had always tended to play things much safer than she.

  “Without your first officer?” Kathryn asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the moment you tell Tom Paris that his wife and child are missing from Boreth, the only way to keep him on this ship will be to put him in stasis,” Kathryn replied.

  Come to think of it, even that might not do the trick. Kathryn recalled vividly that Tom had a particular aversion to stasis chambers and an uncanny ability to escape them, even when supposedly sedated.

  Chakotay stopped pacing and drew himself up to his full height, hands clasped behind his back. “I think you underestimate him,” he replied.

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” Kathryn challenged.

  A few minutes later, Tom arrived in Chakotay’s quarters and received a full briefing on what limited information was currently at the captain’s disposal. He took the news relatively well. The moment Chakotay had finished speaking, he said, “Thank you, Captain. Of course, I’d like to request an immediate leave.”

  Chakotay blinked back his surprise.

  “To do what?”

  “The Delta Flyer was brought back aboard just before we departed McKinley Station. With your permission I’ll take it and begin my search at Boreth,” Tom replied evenly.

  “Request denied,” Chakotay said softly. Before Tom could protest, he continued, “Ambassador Worf made it very clear that no Federation intervention was required nor would be welcomed at this time.”

  “That’s supposed to stop me?” Tom asked in amazement.

  “No,” Chakotay answered. “Your duty to this ship is supposed to do that.”

  Tom stared briefly at Chakotay in wonder, then raised his right hand to the collar of his uniform, tugging firmly at one of the three pips that were pinned there.

  “Gentlemen,” Kathryn interrupted, sensing where this was going, “let’s think about this.”

  “There’s nothing to think about!” Tom shouted. “We’re talking about my wife and my daughter.”