Virtual Season 7.5

Wrongs Not Forgotten

episode 1

Rating: PG-13/R

Welcome to Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 season premiere. Our goal is to redo Voyager's seventh and final season to fit our vision of what could have been. The first four episodes are set before Shattered, then we split completely from official canon.

Sit back, put your feet up and enjoy a Voyager 2 hour movie.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the rights to ST Voyager and all things Trek. We, unfortunately, will return their toys when we are finished...Well, maybe not.

Wrongs Not Forgotten

By: Penny Proctor

Prologue

Chakotay studied the two crewmen who stood before him. Jack O'Connell and Hugh Murphy looked distinctly uncomfortable, which was not surprising considering that they had no idea why the First Officer had asked to see them. "Uh," O'Connell began hesitantly, "if this has to do with the Jeffries Tube-" he stopped abruptly as Murphy stepped on his foot.

With some effort, Chakotay stifled a smile. The two friends had apparently decided to vie for the title of Ship's Rake when Tom Paris settled down, and recently they had paired up with Jenny and Megan Delaney. If the grapevine was accurate, the mysterious damage in Jeffries tube 36-A had nothing to do with the abortive, mind-controlled mutiny of a few months earlier.

Deciding it wouldn't hurt to let them worry just a little, Chakotay said nothing at first. The truth was, their romantic adventures had nothing to do with why he wanted to speak with them. When he and others from his former crew had been recovered from Teero's mind control, he had been reminded how disparate the Maquis and Starfleet crews had been at first, and how successfully they had melded into a single crew. That in turn made him realize that there was another faction on board that he had not paid enough attention to.

When the five survivors of the Equinox had come aboard, he had deliberately assigned each one quarters - first with a Starfleet crewman, and then nine months later he had moved each to share space with a former Maquis. He had hoped they would be able to integrate into Voyager more quickly that way. Gilmore seemed to have done all right with Jor and Powell, and Dalby and Gennaro had no complaints about Lessing. The others, though, seemed to be as isolated as ever. O'Connell and Murphy had each spent time rooming with someone else, and he was the one Chakotay wanted to discuss.

"Tell me," he finally said, "What's the problem with Jim Morrow?"

O'Connell and Murphy looked at each other, then Murphy shrugged. "It's hard to say, sir," he said. "He pretty much keeps to himself."

"I've noticed." That, in fact, was the entire reason for this interview. Chakotay was troubled by the fact that after a year and a half, the Equinox survivors still were not completely trusted by their crewmates. They did their jobs, but little else. "He wasn't at Neelix's potluck last night. Why?"

"He said he wasn't up for it." Jack O'Connell frowned. "He's just not a social type, Commander."

Chakotay frowned. According to the records they had received from Starfleet, Morrow had been outgoing and extremely social while at the Academy. "He must have friends. Who does he eat with? Sofin, Tassoni? What about holodeck time?"

"I don't really know," O'Connell said, and he didn't sound interested.

"You've lived with the man for the last nine months. You must have some idea."

Murphy straightened. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"The man's a loner. He doesn't talk to us unless we talk to him, and even then it's barely more than a sentence or two. He doesn't want to have anything to do with us."

"The fact is," O'Connell added, "He doesn't trust us and we don't trust him. It's that simple."

"But why?" Chakotay gave him a hard look. "Has he done something?"

O'Connell shook his head. "No. But he tried to kill us all. He didn't think twice about leaving us at the mercy of those murdering aliens. There are some things you don't forget easily."

They say time heals all wounds, Chakotay thought. Perhaps we just need more time. "Do me a favor. Make an effort with him. He was following his captain and got led astray. It was a mistake, but we all make mistakes. If we've learned anything on this ship, it's that everyone deserves another chance."

O'Connell's face settled into a frown. "It's not the same, Chakotay. The Maquis were fighting for something important."

"Let's not start talking about the quality of our mistakes." He managed a smile. "Just try, all right?"

Murphy shot a warning look at his friend and nodded. "Aye, sir."

Before O'Connell acknowledged the order, the comm system interrupted. "Janeway to Chakotay."

"Yes, Captain?"

"I need you on the bridge, Commander."

Her voice sounded strained, a signal that something was going on but she didn't want to talk about it over the comm system. He rose. "On my way." "Dismissed. And Jack, try. Morrow's not a bad guy."

If Kathryn's tone of voice hadn't warned him, he would have realized something was wrong the moment he stepped on the bridge. Instead of her usual relaxed posture, Kathryn sat erect and tense in the Captain's chair, and she caught his eye as soon as the 'lift doors opened. The usual buzz of conversation was missing; the only sound was that the ambient hum of the engines and the occasional aural cue from the computer.

He took his seat and turned to Kathryn. "What's happening?"

"We're getting a signal of some kind," she said, leaning toward him. "It may be a distress signal."

Harry Kim looked up from his console. "I've got it, Captain. It's definitely a distress call. They say " he broke off, looking shocked. "They say they are on a Cardassian ship."

Stunned, Chakotay swiveled in his chair and stared at the Ops Officer. Cardassian? Here?


Act 1: The Signal

Kathryn Janeway looked as stunned as Chakotay felt. "Let's have it, Mr. Kim."

"I need to boost the gain, the signal's very weak." His brows knit together in concentration, and then he relaxed. "There."

The viewscreen came to life. Although some interference remained, the image was unmistakable. An elderly Cardassian spoke in a rasping voice.

"To any passing ships. We are the surviving crew of the Malik Ohn, a ship of the Cardassian Union. We are in immediate need of medical assistance and food supplies. Basic ship functions will fail in 48 hours. Our situation is desperate. Please respond."

Without thinking, Chakotay rose to his feet as a jumble of images raced through his mind: Seska, smiling as she betrayed him; Gul Evek demanding the surrender of the Liberty right before the Caretaker pulled them into the Delta quadrant; the glinn whose name he never knew, asking questions that had no answers walking through the devastation of his village after it was destroyed.

The continued silence on the bridge meant he was not the only one unsettled by the message. After a moment, Kathryn spoke. "I want to know where that signal came from. I'll be in my ready room."

She left the bridge quickly, but no one else seemed capable of moving. Dozens of questioning eyes turned to Chakotay. "You heard the Captain," he said, trying to sort out his thoughts without revealing the turmoil he felt.

The first thing he focused on was that any contact with the Malik Ohn was likely to be hostile. Then he had to shake his head to clear his thinking. For a moment, he had been acting on the assumptions that guided him in the Maquis. Voyager had been in the Delta quadrant for almost seven years; he was no longer Maquis, and the old assumptions were invalid.

He just finished the weapons status report when Kathryn asked that he join her in the ready room. She was waiting at her desk, and turned her computer around to face him as he sat.

"The Malik Ohn." She stood and began pacing while he read the entry on the screen. "It's quite an extensive report, considering how little Starfleet Intelligence was been able to gather about Cardassian ships in the early years."

"It was at the First Nyakkan Conference," he read aloud. "And expected at the Second Conference but it never arrived."

"That's one of the reasons the Second Conference failed. The Cardassians suspected the Federation had captured or destroyed the ship, but keeping it secret. As a result, diplomatic overtures ended and we began our slow progression toward the first war."

He leaned back and looked at her in disbelief. "That was more than thirty years ago."

Janeway stopped mid-circle and nodded. "What if the Caretaker began searching for compatible species when he desiccated the Ocampan homeworld? Kes said that 500 generations of Ocampa had passed since then."

"A new generation every five years" Chakotay let the thought trail off. The Caretaker could have been pulling ships to the Delta Quadrant for more than two thousand years.

She poured herself a cup of coffee. "All this time, I've been considering the effect of the Caretaker's action only on this ship and crew. Now I wonder he may have changed the whole history of Federation-Cardassian relations." She gestured with the pot in hand, offering him a cup, but he shook his head. "My father was one of the Starfleet representatives at both conferences. He once told me that after the first, he had great hopes for a peaceful, if not friendly, relationship but after the second he became convinced that war was inevitable. Can you imagine how different it might have been if the Malik Ohn had reported as expected?"

Chakotay shook his head slowly. "Maybe the timing would have been different, but the outcome would have been the same. The Cardassians are too arrogant, too greedy for territory."

"They were." She sighed, and sat down again. "That doesn't seem the case now. According to the last datastream report, Cardassia Prime was nearly destroyed in the final assault of the War. It will be decades before the Union can even begin to think about expansion again. That threat is over."

"It will never be over."

"What?"

He looked up, startled and a little embarrassed. "I didn't mean to say that out loud."

"But you did." She looked at him closely. "It doesn't sound like you."

"I'm sorry." He took a deep breath, and walked across the room to look out at the stars. "I thought I had put it behind me, but seeing that image on the viewscreen it all came back. For a moment, I didn't see him at all. What I saw was my village, after the Cardassians finished with it."

He rarely thought about it any more, and never talked about it, but now he wanted her to understand. "When I walked through the wreckage, it was unrecognizable. The buildings were melted into the rock, and there was a layer of dust over everything. I remember, I looked down and saw my footprint, and I wondered if I had just walked through the ashes of my mother's body." He turned back to her. "There are some wrongs that can't be forgiven, or forgotten."

She studied him for a moment, then set down her cup and went to him. There was sympathy in her voice and in the touch of her hand on his arm. "I won't pretend that I know how you feel. But there has to be an end, Chakotay, or nothing will ever change."

It had been a long time since she touched him that way, and it felt good. It felt as natural as breathing and somehow right. He had almost forgotten how that simple touch felt.

"Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway. I have identified the location of the Cardassian ship."

"Good. Come to the briefing room to report." She looked at Chakotay. "Assemble the senior staff. Maybe it's a false alarm, and we can forget the whole thing."


Act 2: Debate

Seven ended any hope that the call was a hoax as soon as the staff gathered around the table. She moved to wall console and entered a command. "Long range sensors have found the source of the distress call. It is twenty light years away, in the center of the Corish Crescent."

The schematic showed a region of space marked by a line of star systems that formed an arc, reminiscent of a scimitar. A green light blinked at the apex of the arc, representing the ship. Paris shook his head. "It figures. Every ship we've run into for the past two months has warned us to steer clear of the Crescent."

"They claimed it's a haven for pirates and slavers," Chakotay added thoughtfully.

"The Cardassians are probably the pirates," B'Elanna muttered. Her arms were folded over her chest and she was practically quivering with anger, but she had clamped her jaw together tightly. Chakotay recognized that she was working hard at controlling herself.

"Unknown," Seven said in reply, "but this is the ship in question." She touched another control, and the screen rearranged itself to show the outline of a ship. Torres and Kim gasped in unison as they recognized the unmistakable silhouette of a Cardassian warship.

"It looks odd," Tom said, frowning.

"That's probably because it's out of date." Janeway reported on her discovery concerning the Malik Ohn. "I believe it is likely the ship has been in the Delta Quadrant for thirty years."

"That's very interesting, Captain," B'Elanna said, "but why do we care? These are Cardassians. Shouldn't we be getting ready for a fight?"

"The war is over, Lieutenant."

"Do you think they know that?" B'Elanna asked so pointedly that her tone bordered on insubordination. "Even thirty years ago, Cardassia was hostile to the Federation. That was the whole point of the Nyakkan peace conferences, remember?"

"We will be prepared to defend ourselves, if necessary. But we are not going to plan or provoke an attack." Kathryn's tone caused B'Elanna to lean back, silenced.

Chakotay had been thinking during Seven's presentation, and he thought he had an acceptable solution. He looked at Kathryn as he spoke. "Why do we have to respond at all? We've been warned of the dangers in the Corish Crescent. We can just continue on our way."

"I concur," Tuvok said, surprising Chakotay considerably. "We do not know what may face us in that region of space. The prudent thing is to continue on our present course."

Kathryn looked first at Tuvok, then at Chakotay. "The expedient thing. But not the right thing. I remind you, they have issued a distress call. It is one of the oldest traditions in Starfleet, going back to the sea-faring navies of Earth, that we respond to distress calls, even those of our enemy."

Paris looked at Janeway in disbelief. "Are you planning to help them, then?"

Kathryn's face was settling into the expression than meant her mind was made up and that further discussion was an exercise in futility. "The Cardassians are no longer our enemy. We will respond, and we will provide medical supplies and food, if needed."

"I can't believe it." Ignoring a look of warning from her husband, B'Elanna jumped to her feet. "We're talking about Cardassians. Have you forgotten what they did to us? To the colonies they destroyed?"

"Lieutenant!" Chakotay spoke firmly, making his meaning unambiguous. As much as he might sympathize with her reasoning, her tone was out of line.

Her eyes flashed dangerously, but she sat down. "I'm sorry, Captain. It's just that the idea of helping Cardassians is hard to take."

"I understand, B'Elanna." Janeway looked around the room. "Believe me, I have no love for them. I've been in battle against them, I've seen what they do to prisoners. But that ship has been in this quadrant for more than thirty years." She looked around the table, making certain that she had each officer's attention. "Its crew has no idea that the Federation and the Union were ever at war with one another, let alone know anything about the Maquis.

"And," she added, "think about what it might be like on this ship in another twenty-odd years. That could be us, some day, and a passing ship could mean survival."

For a moment, everyone sat in silence. Then Seven said, "The Cardassians are a devious species. We should not rely on their assertion of helplessness."

The Captain smiled. "And we won't. Tuvok, work with Seven. I want as much tactical information as we can get on that ship. Correlate the information in the database with long range sensor information. We won't let them know we're coming until we have a better idea of what kind of shape they are really in. Take us toward the Crescent, Mr. Paris, at warp 4. Dismissed."

Chakotay turned to follow the others out, but stopped at the sound of Kathryn's voice. "Chakotay. Stay a moment."

He turned and allowed the door to close for privacy. She remained seated, her expression troubled. "You told me once you found peace here on Voyager. What will happen to that peace if we let those people die?"

Wishing he had some other answer to give, he said truthfully, "I don't know. But I don't know how I can help them and live with it, either."

Her face fell, and he knew he had disappointed her. The strange thing was, he had disappointed himself as well.


Act 3: Dissension

It was late when Chakotay finally went to his quarters. The crew had spent hours gleaning every possible fact about the Malik Ohn on the databases, both specific information and what was known generically about Cardassian ships of that era.

Tuvok and Seven compiled a detailed report on the ship's probable capabilities. If it came to a fight, Voyager should prevail. The weapons and propulsion systems of the older ship were no match for Voyager. The only area in which the Cardassian ship matched theirs was in its shield capacity. "It is a very efficient shield design," Seven noted in the report. "We should consider adapting our own to it."

Tuvok had added a notation as well. "We should not assume that the ship remains as it was initially constructed. After thirty years in the Delta quadrant, it is logical to assume that modifications have been made and that local technologies adapted for use. Despite the apparent advantage held by Voyager, contact should be made with the assumption that the Malik Ohn matches or exceeds our own tactical specifications."

This did nothing to make Chakotay feel any better about Kathryn's plan.

The senior staff remained on duty well beyond their normal shift, assuring that the ship was ready for either battle or trade. Neelix and the Doctor created an inventory of available foodstuffs and medical supplies, while B'Elanna and Tuvok ran repeated diagnostics and drills to be certain that both systems and people were prepared.

Kathryn had left the bridge to him during all of this; she was continuing her own research in her ready room. At 1900 he went in to report and found her at her desk.

"B'Elanna reports that all systems are optimal and Tuvok is satisfied with the battle drills," he told her. "I've told Alpha shift to stand down."

She nodded. "Good. Now, take a look at this." She swiveled the monitor towards him, and came to stand behind him as he sat.

The screen showed a Starfleet officer wearing a dress uniform in a style that had been replaced before Chakotay was a first-year cadet. Even the rank insignia had been changed, but he was fairly certain that the officer was a captain. He stood next to a Cardassian whose expression seemed inappropriately smug for the setting.

"That's a press release from the First Nyakkan Conference."

"Is that your father?"

"Yes." She sounded almost wistful. "He looks so young there."

Chakotay looked closely. The man in the picture was definitely not young, but neither was he elderly. His hair was a rusty brown, except for a distinguished dusting of silver at the sideburns and temples, and the only lines on his face were grooves in his forehead, probably caused by years of eyebrows knitting together in concentration. Edward Janeway was not smiling, and he had the look of someone who rarely indulged in such frivolity. His features were hawk-like, creating the impression of someone who demanded a great deal from himself and those around him.

The only physical resemblance to Kathryn, he thought, was in the bearing, the finely chiseled bones of the face, and in the eyes. The infamous Death Stare was apparently hereditary.

Kathryn pointed to the Cardassian. "Recognize him? That's Enabran Tain."

He was so surprised his mouth dropped. "But he was the head of the Obsidian Order."

"Uh-huh. Although it would be a few more years before he took over. Not that the Federation knew what the Obsidian Order was at that time. And I guarantee you, the Cardassians didn't explain it to our delegates. Tain was introduced as the designated liaison to the Federation contingent." She smiled and put one hand on his shoulder. "And I can tell you something else. My father didn't like him. I can tell by the way he's standing and the look in his eyes."

He almost smiled. "Yes, I recognize it."

She shot him a look, but let it pass. "I was hoping to find some record of Gul Datik, but there's nothing. Either he wasn't on the Malik Ohn at the time, or he had no official role at the conference."

"That's the way our luck seems to go in this quadrant." He looked at the image of Edward Janeway again. "You were what, seven years old?"

"Eight." Her eyes fixed on the monitor, but he had the feeling she was seeing something much farther away. "After this, he became obsessed by the Cardassians. He knew that if we couldn't be allies, they would be the greatest threat the Federation had faced since the Klingons. When the second conference failed, he was like a man possessed. He devoted himself to designing ships and weapons that could be used against them. We didn't see very much of him."

She stopped and broke away from him as if embarrassed. Perhaps she was; she did not often reveal so much of herself. He said quietly, "He was right. And the runabouts and the tricobalt grenades he developed were vital in the early skirmishes. Without them, the hostilities would have escalated into full-scale war."

"Thank you." Although she managed a rueful smile, her eyes were sad. "I have to remind myself of that from time to time. There was a price for it, you know, and my father wasn't the only one who paid it." Her face suddenly hardened. "There's been a question for years whether his death was an accident."

"I thought it was an accident during a test flight."

"It was a crash during a test flight. No one ever found the definitive cause for the malfunction that caused the systems failure." She looked away, and when she spoke again, her voice was flat. "There was speculation that it was sabotage, that the Cardassians had somehow managed to infiltrate the shipyards and plant a device of some kind. The crash certainly served their purposes; the runabout design was held back for nearly a year while they tried to find the flaw, and Edward Janeway was dead."

He knew that crash still haunted her; she had first told him about it on New Earth and talked about it again when she encountered the alien impersonating her father. Even after so many years, she still suffered survivor guilt because she was the only one who walked away from the disaster alive. "You don't think anyone on the Malik Ohn will know about that, do you? The ship disappeared years before."

When she turned back to him, she had a rueful smile. "You're right. For a wild moment, I was thinking that someone might. They were there. They knew Enabran Tain. But the timing's off." Then she shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts. "So. Are we ready to make contact?"

"Yes. As ready as we can be, without more data."

"And you still don't approve."

He took a deep breath. "You don't need my approval. You need my support, and you have that."

"I know." She looked at him sadly. "Thank you, Commander. That will be all."

He stood. "Kathryn "

"Yes?"

"I don't know what's right any more." He didn't wait for her reaction, but left quickly.

He retreated to his quarters, eager anxious, even to ease the turmoil in his spirit before the next day. No sooner had he begun to clear his mind for meditation when the comm unit beeped.

"Torres to Chakotay."

"What is it, B'Elanna?"

Her voice was hushed. "You better come to the mess hall," was all she said.

What he saw when he arrived caused his heart to sink. Many of his former crew were gathered at one end of the mess hall, talking loudly. Carlson and Henley, he noted, seemed to be the center of the group. They both turned as he approached. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Why are you letting her do this?" Carlson's face was red with anger.

"Nobody `lets' the Captain do anything," Chakotay said. "It's her ship, and it's her call. You don't have to like it, Carlson."

"But why?" Henley asked. There was undisguised pain in her voice. "Has she forgotten that they massacred the Maquis? Why would she help them?"

"She hasn't forgotten. But this isn't about them. She's doing this for us."

Someone in the group snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it." Chakotay looked around the group. "This is about who we are and what we stand for. Don't we want to be better than the Cardassians?" As he spoke the words, he felt the first flicker of conviction.

"And what about justice, Chakotay?" Jackson, standing to the left, asked bitterly. "Where's the justice for Setlik III? Where's the justice for your own world, for god's sake?"

The question stopped him cold. It was one he had been wrestling with all day, and he still did not have a good answer. He tried a different approach. "If the only thing the Captain valued was justice, I would have spent the past seven years in the brig instead of the bridge."

Then B'Elanna shouldered her way through to stand beside him. She waited until every one was silent. "I don't like it, but Chakotay's right if we don't help them, we're no better than they are. Justice for the Cardassians will have to wait for someone who's a whole lot wiser than me than all of us."

Carlson shook his head. "That's not enough, B'Elanna."

"Don't be an ass," a new voice said. Everyone turned to see Jim Morrow sitting by himself across the room, and the surprise of his participation in a group conversation stunned everyone into silence.

Morrow stood. "You want revenge, but these people didn't do anything to you. If you want to help them die just because they're Cardassians, then you're just the same as the ones who destroyed Setlik III just because it was a Federation colony."

A sneer twisted Carlson's face. "Oh, great. We're being lectured by someone who would have killed us to save his own skin."

"Exactly," Morrow said quietly. "I forgot that how I lived was more important than just living." Then he turned and walked out.

"He's right." Tabor, standing a little off to one side, spoke quietly but his voice carried in the sudden silence that had followed Morrow's exit. "Isn't that why we joined the Maquis?

Mariah Henley bit her lower lip. "Yes, but to help them, after all they did " She shook her head. "It's hard."

"It's wrong," Carlson insisted.

The tension had dissolved, Chakotay realized as he looked around; the danger had passed. Most of the anger had been channeled into serious thought and what remained could be handled. He clapped a hand on Carlson's shoulder. "Only time will tell if you're right or not. Now, get some sleep. All of you. I want everyone sharp tomorrow."

The crowd dispersed in ones and twos. B'Elanna lingered, but did not speak until the others were gone. "You can't fool me, Chakotay. You don't like this any more than I do."

Alone with her, he allowed himself to relax. The muscles in his neck unclenched, and he ran a hand through his hair. "No. I don't."

"Mind control aside, we haven't had a real division between the `Fleet crew and the Maquis crew in years." She shook her head. "This might do it, though. The crew's upset, the ship's at risk. The Cardassians aren't worth all this."

"Maybe not." But then the little seed of conviction he felt before returned. "But if we decide they're not, B'Elanna, how do we decide who is?" He left her there, and went to tell Tuvok what had just occurred.


Act 4: Encounter

Voyager found the Malik Ohn as expected in the heart of the Corish Crescent. It appeared dead in space, and listed slightly to port. Chakotay's stomach tightened as he looked at it.

"Open a channel, Mr. Kim," the Captain said, and at his nod began her message. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. We are responding to your distress call."

The same elderly Cardassian who had issued the plea answered to the Captain's hail. "Federation? From the Alpha quadrant?" the old man asked. "Were you brought here by the Caretaker, too? Or has technology advanced so quickly?"

This confirmed the crew's guess. "The Caretaker brought us here also," she said. "I would like to compare notes later, I don't know your name."

"Forgive me. I am Gul Datik. Captain, we are in great need."

"We can share foodstuffs and medicines," she said, "but that's all. Anything more would compromise our own survival."

"Please reconsider, Captain," Datik said, in a tone as close to begging as Chakotay had ever heard from a Cardassian. "Your Alpha quadrant technology will be more compatible with ours than anything we are likely to find in this alien space. We have already lost weapons and warp drive. My engineers tell me we will lose life support in 48 hours."

"I'm sorry," Janeway said firmly. "You have our best offer."

Datik lowered his head. "And we accept. Forgive me, Captain Janeway, if I seem ungrateful. This is a trying time."

"I understand. Transmit the coordinates to your cargo bay, we'll beam the supplies over."

"Thank you. Our transporters are off line to conserve power," he said, then added, "Captain, are you by any chance related to my friend Edward Janeway?"

Heads snapped up all over the bridge, and Chakotay looked closely at the Captain as she replied. "How did you know him?"

"We met at the Nyakkan conference. My ship transported the Cardassian delegation. Edward and I spent a great deal of time together." Datik smiled at her. "He told me of his daughters. Are you the scholar or the hellion?"

She sucked in her breath, and Chakotay knew that the Cardassian had landed a bull's-eye. "The scholar," she replied, looking dumbstruck.

"Do I infer from your statement that Edward is dead?"

"Yes. For nearly twenty years."

Datik sighed. "My sympathies. He was the only human I ever knew. We had some interesting times together. Then he smiled. "Captain, perhaps we could meet face to face? I would like to thank you for your generosity by sharing some stories about your father."

Chakotay watched her face as she considered this proposal. As he studied her, noted the calculation in the dark blue eyes, he could almost hear her thinking, what does he know? What can he tell me?

He knew what she was going to say before she said it, and he knew it would put him in an untenable position. Whatever his personal feelings about this contact, it was his responsibility to protect the Captain. He had no choice but to object if she proposed to leave the ship. The alternative, to bring him on board, was unwise given the current mood of the crew and he would have to object to that as well.

But he had to find a way to do it so that she would believe he was acting from objectivity, not antipathy for the Cardassians. "Captain," he said quietly, "may I remind you of Tactical Directive 36?"

She glared at him. The Directive he invoked prohibited her from leaving the ship alone. No matter how badly she wanted information about her father, he doubted she would take anyone else over to a Cardassian ship.

"Thank you, Commander." Her voice was as cold as her glare. No captain appreciated being hemmed in, and Kathryn never bothered to conceal her frustration when she knew she had to concede a point. "I won't be able to come to your ship, Gul Datik," she said, "But perhaps you would be willing to come aboard Voyager. I would like to speak with you."

"Captain!" Tuvok protested.

With a slashing gesture, she cut him off. "We will beam you over. For security reasons I will meet with you, and only you. I will be accompanied by security guards. If those terms are acceptable, we can meet in my transporter room in five minutes."

The old Gul smiled. "Caution is a worthy attribute in this quadrant, Captain. I look forward to meeting with you."

As soon as the screen went dark, Chakotay touched her arm. Speaking quietly, so that only she could hear, he said, "Captain, please reconsider. I I've got a bad feeling about this."

She was still annoyed with him; he could tell from the stiffness in her body. But her voice was gentle. "Tuvok and another security guard will accompany me. I need you to stay on the bridge. If there is even a hint of trouble, I want you to get the ship out of here at top speed. Understood?"

For a long few seconds, Chakotay considered making a formal objection, then decided against it. She had mandated a reasonable security precaution, and so far the Malik Ohn had given them no reason to suspect hostility. "Understood."

Satisfied, she rubbed her hand lightly on his arm as if to reassure him. "We have to open a dialogue, Chakotay. If we are ever going to learn to live with them peacefully, we have to start talking to them."

As soon as she cleared the bridge, he went to the Tactical station and opened a security camera on the transporter room, determined to keep an eye on the situation. Mulcahey was on duty when Janeway entered, flanked by Tuvok and Ayala, each with phaser in hand. The familiar shimmer began, and in seconds, Gul Datik stood on the transporter pad.

He was not as decrepit in person as he was on the viewscreen. Instead of being emaciated and hunched, he stood erect and wiry. His eyes lit when they fell on Janeway. "Ah, Captain," he said, stepping down from the pad and offering her his hand. "It is a pleasure."

She stepped forward to shake the proffered hand. He grasped it and pulled her against his body, slapping his commbadge and shouting "Now!"

They both disappeared in the alien shimmer of a Cardassian transporter.

"Get her back!" Tuvok shouted at Mulcahey, who was frantically manipulating the controls.

"I can't," he said. "They've raised shields."

Tuvok hit his commbadge. "Bridge," he said grimly. "They've taken the Captain."

Epilogue

"I know."

Chakotay's response was grim. Almost the instant that the transporter took effect, the Cardassian ship had hailed them. The viewscreen now showed the bridge of the Malik Ohn. Datik held Janeway with one hand; the other pointed a phaser at her head.

He looked at the display on the tactical station. The Cardassian ship had suddenly come to life, with full weapons, shields, and propulsion capabilities. It had all been a ruse a trap that they had fallen into neatly.

Anger building in his chest, Chakotay stepped back down to the command deck, his eyes fixed on Janeway. She looked back at him with no outward sign of fear.

Chakotay spoke first. "I see your ship has made a miraculous recovery."

Datik smiled. It had wolfish aspect that was all the more chilling in a reptilian face. "A small deception on our part. Now, if you if you want your Captain back, you have two minutes to provide me with the weapons and engineering materials on the list we are transmitting. Anything less, and she dies. If you fire on us, she dies. If you try a rescue attempt, she dies. Do we have a deal?"

"No. Send her back, and we'll talk." Chakotay forced himself to speak calmly. "We don't bargain for hostages. Let her go, and we'll negotiate. Obviously we didn't understand the urgency of your needs."

Datik laughed without mirth. "I don't think so. You have less than two minutes, Starfleet officer. Then she dies."

Chakotay looked across space at his captain. His closest friend. The woman who had changed his life. She was staring at him with an unwavering gaze, and he knew exactly what she expected him to do. Exactly.

Even so, he hesitated.

"Commander," was all she said, and Datik pressed the phaser even closer.

He nodded once in reply, but he had never done anything more difficult in his life. "Mr. Paris." His voice was harsh and he did not look away from Kathryn. "Take us out of here. Warp Eight."

Tom took a deep breath. "Aye, sir."

Voyager turned and sped away.

Prologue

Chakotay sat in his chair on the bridge and stared at the screen, saying nothing. Ahead, he could see only the blur of stars passed at warp 6. Behind them, he knew, Kathryn Janeway was a prisoner of Cardassians who had turned to piracy and slavery for survival. He should feel something, he thought. He should feel something other than the icy cold that seemed to grip him.

"Do you have a course in mind, Commander?" Paris asked. His tone bordered on insubordination. "Are we heading for the Alpha Quadrant or are we going to do something about this?"

He couldn't blame Paris for his attitude. "Take us out of the Cardassian's sensor range, then come to full stop."

Paris smiled lazily. "You do intend to do something, then."

Without realizing it, Chakotay gripped the arms of his seat. "Yes, Lieutenant. I intend to do something."

"Commander." Tuvok stood stiffly, even for him. "May I remind you of the Captain's orders-"

"She said we were to leave at the first sign of trouble," Chakotay said, standing. "We did. She didn't say anything about coming back. As soon as we stop, I want the senior staff in the briefing room. I'll be in the ready room until then."

Act 1: Planning

As he looked around the conference table, Chakotay saw that the staff was agitated but controlling it like the professionals they were. That's Kathryn's doing, he thought, and it's why we'll be able to save her.

He spoke quickly and without emotion. "The objective is to retrieve the Captain. In my opinion, we need a small unit to get on board and lower their shields. Any ideas? Including other opinions."

Seven asked, "Are you certain the Captain is still alive? The deadline they set for her execution has passed."

He shook his head. "It's possible, but it's not the way that Cardassians typically work. They enjoy having an opportunity to interrogate prisoners."

"There's something else," Paris said. "It looks like B'Elanna was right the Cardassians are the pirates we were warned about."

"Granted."

"Remember, we were also warned about slavers," Tom continued. "If they're in the slave trade, it's likely they'll keep the Captain alive and sell her at the first opportunity." He did not look happy with that conclusion.

"Good point. Reprehensible as the slave trade is, it may be the best reason we have to believe the Captain is still alive." Chakotay looked around the table. "So, how are we going to get her back?"

"Their sensors will recognize anything with a Federation propulsion system," Tuvok said. "Ideally, we need something native to the Delta quadrant."

"Neelix's ship is still in Cargo Bay 3," Kim said. "It's got a completely different energy signature than anything else we can launch."

Torres shook her head. "But it's got no speed, and minimal defenses." After a slight hesitation, she said, "What if we cloaked the Delta Flyer?"

"How?" Paris asked.

"I've been working with the Voth technology we got from Gegan, and I think we can safely cloak two people and a shuttle, at least for a while."

Chakotay looked up in surprise; he thought they had abandoned that technology months ago. It had been more than three years since they encountered Gegan, then a scientist seeking to prove his theory of "distant origin" that his race, the saurian Voth, and the humans of Voyager had both evolved on Earth. He and Chakotay, sharing common interests, had become friends. When the Voth government captured Voyager, it gave Gegan the choice of publishing his conclusions and enslaving the humans, or recanting his theories and letting Voyager go free; Gegan sacrificed his life's work. He possessed a defiant spirit, though and in a gesture of private rebellion, Gegan presented Chakotay with a parting gift: two of the phase-shifting bands he had used in his field research.

When used on Voth physiology, the bands moved the wearer slightly out of phase with time and space, rendering them effectively invisible. Unfortunately, the technology didn't work as well with human physiology. If used for more than a minute or two, the disorientation vertigo, nausea, abdominal cramps - when humans returned to normal phase was so disabling that they weren't worth using. B'Elanna had set it aside months ago or so Chakotay believed.

"Twenty minutes," the Doctor said. "I've worked with Lt. Torres, and I believe an individual can safely remain out of phase for twenty minutes. Any longer, and the disorientation will be incapacitating."

Seven frowned. "Wouldn't a shuttle suffer the same disruptions as a biological system?"

"I can make it work for the Flyer, too," Torres said. "I'm sure of it. I can make it work for twenty minutes."

A plan began to take shape in Chakotay's mind. "What if we had both?" he asked slowly. "Neelix's ship as bait we send in commandos, wearing the Voth phase devices. They disable the shields, and find the Captain. Then, on signal, the Flyer drops its cloak and beams the entire party aboard, and gets the hell out."

Around the table, the idea caught on. "It has merit," Tuvok pronounced. "But there are many details to be resolved, beginning with Mr. Neelix. He must consent to the use of his ship. There is a high probability it will be lost."

"Then get him here."

Neelix arrived promptly, and Tuvok quickly reviewed the proposal. "Of course you can use my ship," Neelix said. "Anything to get the Captain back safely. But" his voice trailed off, and he looked at Chakotay.

"What is it, Neelix?"

"I think you're going to need more than my ship. I think you are going to need me. I'm the only adult aboard who isn't from the Alpha quadrant. They might recognize anyone else at the helm."

Chakotay was deeply touched by the courage of the offer. "I can't ask that of you, Neelix. Even though you are an important part of our crew, you aren't Starfleet. This is a dangerous mission, and the Cardassians are not merciful to their captives."

Neelix lifted his chin. "I realize that, Commander. But we have to get the Captain back, don't we? I'm volunteering."

It was all too easy to underestimate this Talaxian, Chakotay reflected. "Thank you, Neelix. All right, people. Let's get to work."

Act 2: Anticipation

As Voyager disappeared from the Cardassian view screen, Datik pushed Kathryn from him and backhanded her with such force that she stumbled and fell to her knees. Blood seeped from a small cut at the corner of her mouth. "That was very unwise," Datik told her.

"Not as unwise as kidnapping me," she said, hoping she sounded coldly confident. "You've just lost any chance you had of getting anything from Voyager. They won't be back."

Datik's eyes narrowed. "For your own sake, you should hope that you are wrong. Take her the Infirmary," he snapped at a younger officer, apparently a guard. "Tell our medic to begin processing her."

Processing. She knew what that meant. Another molar pulled without painkillers. A medical scan to determine her tolerance for torture. The guard yanked her roughly to her feet and pushed her forward.

The corridors were filled with activity. Kathryn took careful note of her surroundings. Several young crewmembers passed her, and are first she couldn't identify why they struck her as out of place; they were Cardassian, but they seemed very young. She looked at her escort and realized he couldn't be thirty years old yet. That's it. They're too young to have been on board when the ship disappeared. The Malik Ohn, it seemed, had become a generational ship.

The next thing she noticed that everyone on board seemed remarkably well-fed. The distress call was nothing but a ruse after all. B'Elanna's half-grumbled remark had been exactly right: the pirates of the Corish Crescent were none other than the Cardassians.

Then one of the passing crew sneered at her, and she almost tripped in her surprise. There was a Narcadian in the crew. A Narcadian and a Brunali. Well, why not? I've got a Brunali myself, and a Talaxian. They've been in the quadrant long enough to pick up a few strays.

Straightening her shoulders, she reminded herself that this time she knew what to expect from Cardassian captivity. Half the effectiveness of their torture techniques lay in the suspense they built. The rest of the effect came from their exquisite knowledge of pain. There wasn't much she was going to be able to do about that, but she would spit in their eye as long as she could.

The Infirmary was nearly empty when they came in, but she at once that it was immaculate and well kept. This ship valued its medical care, then. "Medic," the guard called, and she was surprised to hear the lack of respect in his tone.

The medic walked out from an office area. Janeway stared. He was tall, thin, and probably in his late 60's or early 70's - and unquestionably human.

"You are to begin processing this prisoner for interrogation," the guard said, giving her a little push.

The medic looked at him with amusement. "Tell me, Cralin, did our illustrious Gul notice that his prisoner is of breeding age? He might want to reconsider those instructions. She's far too valuable at auction to kill."

The guard frowned. "How can you tell?"

"Just look at her," the medic said. "She's obviously fertile."

Cralin did look at her, with some distaste. "They all look alike to me."

"Just tell Datik. And Rekela." He shrugged. "Or else I will, and you stand to lose your share of the auction price."

"I will tell them," Cralin said, and left.

The medic looked at her coolly. "Step over here," he said. "There are some things we have to do regardless."

She didn't move. "What are you doing here, on this ship? Who are you?"

"My name is Ramon Hernandez, and the rest is too long a story. I'm very sorry you're here, and I'll do what I can to help you, but frankly, it won't be much. I'm little more than a slave here. Now come on, step over here."

"Dr. Hernandez," she began, but he cut her off with a gesture.

"I'm not a doctor," he said. "It just happened that I made myself useful when their physician was killed."

"All right. Mr. Hernandez, what did you mean about `auction'?"

He frowned. "If you're lucky, Datik will decide to sell you on the slave market rather than torture you. A breeding female is extremely rare and will fetch a high price."

Kathryn suddenly felt ill. "You'd help him sell me into slavery?"

"Honey, I'd sell my own mother into slavery if it kept me alive."

She stared at him for several seconds, then moved toward the bay he had indicated earlier. "You'll be wanting the molar," she said calmly. "Number 19 is real; the other is a replacement." She didn't add that it replaced a molar extracted during her first Cardassian captivity.

His eyes, a smoky gray color, seemed to soften. "I really am sorry about this."

Using what looked like pliers, he reached into her mouth and pulled the tooth. She thought she was braced for it, but the pain was excruciating.

He lifted the pliers and looked at the fruit of his labor, then set it down and packed the gap with wadding. "You knew that was coming. Who are you?"

A moment passed before she could speak. "I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager."

He paled, and backed a step away from her. "Oh my god. You're Starfleet?" She nodded silently. "Janeway? Oh, god. You're Edward's daughter, aren't you? I remember you, you were just a little girl."

Here eyes widened, then narrowed. "Who are you? Not just your name."

He pulled her over to a more private area. "Listen to me. Does Gul Datik know your name? Does he know you're related to Edward?" She nodded, and he seemed to sag. "Then I don't know that I can help you. I'll try, I promise you that, but it's not just business for Datik, it's personal."

"Why?" she whispered. "I don't understand."

Hernandez glanced toward the door, as if expecting it to open. "I'm Lt. Commander Ramon Hernandez, Starfleet Intelligence. 35 years ago I was disguised as a Cardassian and planted on this ship. Your father arranged it for me. After the Caretaker pulled us here, my disguise was discovered. Datik felt that your father betrayed their friendship."

He suddenly seemed to pull himself away from her, emotionally if not in reality. "Look, I'll do the best I can to protect you. But I've managed to survive here for 35 years and I'm not going to risk that. If I can, I'll see that you aren't tortured and that you are sent to the auctions of Duellali. That's the best I can do for you."

Her jaw was already throbbing. She tried to ignore it. "That's not very Starfleet of you."

He laughed. "Kathryn, your father sent me on what was supposed to be a 6 month assignment. I've been here 35 years. I don't owe Starfleet a thing."

She looked him straight in the eye. "What do you owe yourself?"

Anything he might have said was interrupted by the arrival of a Cardassian female. She was older, old enough to have been on the ship from the beginning, and like Datik she was thin and wiry, a testament to years of hardship. She wore black leather pants and a scarlet tunic of some silky material that billowed slightly as she walked. Her silver hair was cut short, shorter than Kathryn had ever seen on a Cardassian woman, revealing large hoop earrings that swung jauntily as she walked. From her bearing, she clearly perceived herself to be a person of some importance.

Dark eyes glittered as she studied Kathryn. "Cralin tells me we have a female captive of breeding age," she said.

"Yes, Rekela," Hernandez said, keeping his eyes lowered. "She is capable of conception and giving birth."

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "Birth? How common." Then she walked over and looked at Kathryn appraisingly, her eyes moving up and down. "You seem healthy enough. And strong enough."

"Would you like to check my teeth?" Kathryn asked dryly.

Rekela slapped her hard on the swelling jaw, and tears of pain stung Kathryn's eyes. "You will learn respect and obedience."

Holding her cheek, Kathryn bent over and spit out a mouthful of blood loosened by the blow. She aimed so that it hit Rekela's shoulder and dripped down her tunic. Then she stared back coldly. "Not bloody likely on either count."

With a slow smile, Rekela nodded. "Bloody it shall be, then."

Preparation for the rescue continued well into the night. By 0045 Chakotay was bleary-eyed and losing concentration, and needed a break. He stopped by the mess hall for something to eat and found Tuvok there, sitting at a table with a portable computer link. He picked up a piece of fruit and sat down at the same table.

"Thank you for not objecting to my personnel assignments." The Flyer would be piloted by Paris, with Torres and Seven on board to cope with any engineering problems created by the Voth cloak, and the Doctor, to help with the Captain as soon as they had her back. The commando team consisted Neelix, Tuvok and Chakotay. Harry Kim would be in charge on Voyager.

Technically, it was a breach of protocol for the first officer to leave the ship with the Captain missing. It was an even bigger breach to have so many senior officers at risk on one mission. Tuvok had not protested, and Chakotay wondered why.

Tuvok apparently understood exactly what he was thinking. "The success of this plan depends upon use of the best available personnel. In this type of raid, you and I are the obvious choice for the infiltration team. Besides," he added, "you would not be persuaded to remain behind."

Chakotay smiled grimly. "You're right about that. Are you going over the plan? I'd like to join you."

Tuvok frowned. "I have been reviewing the incident in the transporter room. I failed to protect the Captain, but I cannot identify my mistake. Every step conformed to the best practices."

"The mistake was letting that damned Cardassian on board. That wasn't your fault, or mine. Maybe" Chakotay stopped, and took a slow breath before continuing. "Maybe it wasn't even a mistake. Maybe the Captain was right. If we're going to live up to our principles, we have to take chances. But, understand me, Tuvok-"

He leaned forward, and lowered his voice even though there was no one to overhear. "If we don't get her back, we are going to blow that ship to hell."

Tuvok met his eyes steadily. "Agreed. We must not leave them to perpetrate this kind of piracy in the sector."

Despite the unexpected agreement, Tuvok's reply annoyed him. "You sound like we'll let them go if we do get her back."

"If we recover the Captain, she will determine our next course of action."

"She's your friend," Chakotay leaned back, unable to keep his tone from sounding bitter. "You and I both know that they aren't just keeping her in the brig. They're hurting her, maybe killing her. Don't you want to strike back?"

"I understand your position. The need for vengeance is instinctual in many species, including Vulcans. However, we learned to put it aside when it serves no purpose other than personal satisfaction." He paused. "I would prefer to rescue the Captain with a minimum of violence. However, if we are unsuccessful this may be an instance in which logic and instinct coincide."

Chakotay considered these words for a few seconds. "We may be more alike than I realized, Tuvok."

"I came to that conclusion some time ago, Commander."

Kathryn sat on the floor of a holding cell, stripped to the skin and shackled at the ankles to the wall. By leaving her naked, her captors intended to deprive her of dignity and make her feel vulnerable. It had been more effective the first time.

The first time she was a Cardassian prisoner she had been young and inexperienced, and she had not been alone. Listening to the screams of Owen Paris from the next room had been as debilitating as the pain she had endured herself. At least this time, it's only me. This time, she was more experienced and had skills she had lacked then. Chakotay and Tuvok had taught her meditation techniques which would help her bear the agony to come.

Thoughts of Voyager and Chakotay threatened her concentration and she pushed them aside. They would come for her if they could; that was all she could allow herself to think. It was necessary to focus herself. The body and the mind could be separated, and she thought she would need them far apart fairly quickly.

She was right. Only moments after she had begun to clear her mind, Datik and Rekela came to the holding cell. Datik did not look happy. "Rekela and the crew have convinced me," he said, "that your value at auction will be greater than the pleasure I would derive from your thorough interrogation."

`Thorough interrogation' was the favorite Cardassian euphemism for `death by torture.' Kathryn felt her stomach unclench a little in relief. Then Rekela smiled nastily and showed her a cylindrical device.

"Slaves must learn respect," she said coolly, "and the mark of the lash almost never affects the price. Datik and I agree that some punishment is in order for your insolence. He will get some enjoyment, at least. Stand up."

She stood. She wished she could think of something clever and defiant to say, but all she could manage was to look back squarely at them so they could see she was unafraid. Physical pain could be endured. She waited while they unlocked the chain that held her to the wall and followed them down the corridor.



Act 3: Implementation

Ten hours later, Neelix's ship was drifting near a large planetoid just beyond the center of the Crescent. Neelix had activated an automated distress signal as soon as they had entered orbit.

In the cramped space of the small cabin, Chakotay glanced at his two companions. Tuvok was the embodiment of calm, and Neelix was trying hard to emulate him. The Talaxian's nervousness was evident, though, in the tiny beads of sweat along his cranial ridges and the tension in his voice. "It's taking too long. It's not going to work."

"It will work," Chakotay said. "We just have to be patient."

Tuvok added, "We left the ship only seventy-three minutes ago. It is too early to expect contact."

Neelix shook his head. "Sorry. It seems a lot longer."

It seems like forever, Chakotay thought. Hold on, Kathryn.

Suddenly the comm system sounded, breaking into Chakotay's mental replay of events. He and Tuvok moved out of the line of sight and nodded to Neelix.

The tiny screen showed a Cardassian, who spoke without preamble. "What the nature of your problem?"

Neelix swallowed. "I'm in big trouble here. My engines have failed and I'm trapped in orbit around this planet. My shields can't handle entry into the atmosphere. In two more orbits, I'll be as fried as a gelavian crisp."

There was a slight pause. When the Cardassian spoke again, he had a wolfish expression. "Stand by. We are bringing you on board."

"Oh, thank goodness," Neelix gushed. "You're a godsend. You can have my best prices on my goods."

The Cardassian smirked, and then the screen went abruptly dark.

"Well done," Tuvok said. "Deactivate the distress call."

Neelix did so. That was to be the signal to the Flyer to leave Voyager under cloak. The clock had started.

"The thoron field blocked their sensors," Neelix said with relief. "They can't tell you two are on board."

Chakotay smiled. "They don't know that Maquis trick."

Despite the assurances of the Cardassian, nothing happened. "It's taking an awfully long time." Neelix nervously rubbed his arm, where the Doctor had injected a subdermal locator. Each of them had one, to assist transport later since they could not wear commbadges.

Then, without warning, the ship shuddered as a tractor beam grabbed it. "Here we go. Are you ready, Neelix?"

"I guess it's too late to say no." He sounded nervous, but was trying to look calm.

"On my mark, we'll have eighteen minutes," Chakotay warned as he and Tuvok activated the Voth phase bands on their arms.

The phase shift was an odd experience. He felt the same type of brief disorientation he felt during transport: a shivering and a momentary confusion, followed by an instant of darkness. Then everything seemed to return to normal. He could see Tuvok without difficulty, but he could also see Neelix and everything around them. "Did it work?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Neelix, can you "

"That was weird," Neelix said, his eyes wide. "You just disappeared. I mean, I was looking right at you and you disappeared, no shimmer or sparkle or anything. Just poof! You were gone. Can you hear me? I can't hear you. I hope you can hear me. We're in trouble if you can't."

Tuvok looked back to Chakotay. "It worked."

The ship slowed, then banged as it came to rest on the shuttle bay floor. Neelix waited until the area repressurized and then opened the hatch and walked into the bay. "Hello," he said cheerfully. "That certainly was a smooth ride" He broke off when he saw two guards pointing weapons at him. "Oh my. There must be some mistake." He raised his hands. "I'm not armed. I'm just a simple trader."

"Shut up," one of the guards snapped, and slammed his weapon into Neelix's back. "And come with us."

"Yes, yes of course." Neelix staggered several steps but kept his balance as he walked toward the guards. "Where are we going?"

"You're going to the Infirmary to be processed." The guard punched him in the back, shoving him forward.

"Processed? That doesn't sound good. This is a terrible mistake. If I could just speak with whoever is in charge, we could straighten it all out."

"Silence," the guard said, and cuffed him harder. Neelix lowered his head and walked through the doorway.

Tuvok and Chakotay followed closely behind him, unseen. At the second corridor, Tuvok signaled silently. Even though they should be silent as well as invisible while out of phase, they wanted to take no chances. The guards continued to prod Neelix down the corridor, and Chakotay hoped he would be all right.

Tuvok's objective was to plant photon grenades by the shield generator and weapons controls. It was a tricky assignment, because once the grenades were outside proximity to his body they would return to normal phase. Simulations had shown the grenades would not be affected by up to twenty minutes out of phase, but Tuvok would have to remain in the area long enough to be certain of that, even though the timers were set for mere minutes.

He continued down the corridor as Chakotay waited near the turbolift. Chakotay's assignment was to find the Captain and be as close to her as possible when the shields dropped. The Flyer would be able to locate the three commandos from the subdermal locators, but Chakotay would need to be in close proximity to Janeway to assure that she was transported out. His best guess, based on scans of the ship, was that she was in one of the holding cells on deck 7. Finding her would not be easy, though. Despite B'Elanna's efforts, neither tricorders nor phasers had been functional after even brief exposure to the phase device. He was going to have to search manually for the Captain, and he was going to have to rely on the knife as his only weapon.

The Voth technology made Chakotay invisible to the ship's technology as well as to the eye, which proved to be a mixed blessing. There was too much traffic to attempt manually opening a Jeffries tube, but the turbolift sensors would not respond to his presence. He had to wait until someone else caused it to open. The minute it took felt like a lifetime. Two armed guards eventually summoned it, and he hopped on with them.

"Well?" The shorter guard who appeared to be only part Cardassian, looked at his taller, and older, companion expectantly.

"Last I heard the odds were two to one that Rekela will kill her. Want to change your bet?"

"If she's still alive, she's tougher than she looks. I'll stand pat." He shook his head. "Do you know what she did to annoy Rekela?"

"Rekela told her she would have to learn obedience and respect to survive as a slave, and the Human spit in her face." He smiled, as if he enjoyed the memory.

Chakotay almost laughed out loud with relief. Kathryn was alive.

"If Rekela kills her, she'll have to make up the auction price."

The older guard shrugged. "She can afford it. One thing the Obsidian Order knows how to do is to line its own nest."

So. This Rekela was an agent of the Obsidian Order, and she had Kathryn. Chakotay suddenly felt cold.

The doors opened at Deck 7 and the two guards left, with Chakotay right behind him. He began the tedious process of a physical search, feeling time slip away with increasing speed.

He was becoming anxious when Gul Datik himself strode down the corridor, looking displeased. Hoping for luck, Chakotay followed him. Datik strode to the door controls and entered one of the cells, with Chakotay only centimeters behind him.

He skidded to a halt when he saw the Captain. Even though he knew what Cardassians did to prisoners, he was shocked. Janeway was shackled to a bulkhead, completely stripped. Her head lolled forward senselessly, her eyes closed. Her skin was covered with a sheen of sweat, but there were no marks on her.

About three meters away, a Cardassian woman smiled as she caressed an innocuous cylindrical device about 30 centimeters long. She seemed about Datik's age, and like him, she looked strong and wiry. With a nod at Datik, she aimed the device at the Captain, and a blood-red light lashed out from one end. Kathryn jerked convulsively in her chains, but did not regain consciousness.

Chakotay looked closely at the device, and felt sick. It was almost certainly a primitive forerunner of the neuro-stimulator favored by the Obsidian Order in their interrogations of the Maquis. He had been on the receiving end of that device once, and still had nightmares about it. Its only function was to create excruciating pain without causing tissue damage. If used too long at high intensity the device disrupted the normal neuro-electrical impulses of the victim and could cause permanent damage to the nervous system or the brain, or even death, so its use required great skill on the part of the interrogator.

Judging by the Captain's condition, this woman either was not greatly skilled, or she didn't care what happened to her prisoner. Or the device was so primitive that no amount of finesse could save the victim.

Only the presence of Datik and two other guards curbed his impulse to decloak immediately. He couldn't take them all, and he couldn't take the chance on being separated from the Captain when the shields dropped. With an effort, he reminded himself that this was why he had come, because he had the experience and patience to wait for the right moment.

Then, to his surprise, Datik grabbed the device from the woman's hand as she began to aim it again. "Stop it, Rekela, you'll kill her," he said with real anger. "I told you to stop an hour ago."

Rekela's eyes flared, but she quickly controlled herself. "Don't worry, she's alive. Why are you so concerned about a Human?"

"I told you. She's too valuable at auction. I don't want to lose that sale."

The woman smiled at him unpleasantly. "Really? I was beginning to think it was because she reminded you of your old friend."

Datik stared back at her evenly. Chakotay had the feeling that these two had sparred often over the years. "And if that is true, it does not change her value at auction."

"I don't understand you. Janeway planted a spy on your ship while you stole technology from him. I should think you'd want to see his daughter pay for his duplicity."

"It was a game, and we both knew it." Datik's were fixed on Kathryn, but Chakotay had the sense he was seeing something else, something far away. "I liked him, Rekela. He possessed a brilliant mind, almost Cardassian in its complexity. He was the only one of them that was truly interested in learning about us." He brushed a damp strand of hair from the Captain's face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost paternal. "We talked about his daughters. He was very proud of them. This one was his first-born."

"How sweet."

Datik wheeled abruptly and gestured to the guards. "Leave us."

Chakotay braced himself for whatever was coming next.

Although Neelix could not understand any of the symbols on the ship, he recognized the Infirmary as soon as they walked through the door. He almost stumbled when he saw who was waiting for him.

He stared at Hernandez in shock and gasped audibly. The last thing he expected to find on this ship was a Human. Then he realized he'd made a mistake; most Delta Quadrant natives would not recognize a Human.

The man, apparently the medic, nodded once but said nothing. Neelix thought with relief that his gaffe had gone unnoticed.

"Hurry up," the guard said. "This one needs to be processed. We don't even know what he is."

"I am a Talaxian," Neelix said helpfully. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

The guard rolled his eyes. "All I want to know is the price you'll fetch at auction."

"I want the tooth," the second guard said, grinning at Neelix.

Neelix had been warned of this, but had hoped it wouldn't actually happen. "The the tooth?" he repeated.

Hernandez gestured to the bed, and the second guard pulled Neelix over to it. He stood behind and held Neelix in place as Hernandez approached. He ran a quick scan with a tricorder, then picked up a pair of dental pliers and in one swift pull removed a molar. Neelix howled in agony.

"Here," Hernandez dropped the bloody tooth into the guard's outstretched palm. "What do you do with them, anyway?" Then he shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Leave him here. I'll call you when I'm finished. Then you can take them both back to the holding cell."

The guards nodded and left. Hernandez set down the pliers and picked up a scalpel and pressed it against Neelix's throat. "You have a subdermal implant and you recognize Humans. Tell me who you are and what is happening," he hissed.

The guards both looked to Rekela, who nodded. As they left, Chakotay moved as close to the Captain as possible. The first grenade was supposed to go off in one minute. The plan was for Chakotay to come out of phase and grab Kathryn, and they would be beamed out immediately after.

"Do you ever think about home? Your children?" Datik asked Rekela, who only shrugged. "I think of mine. Today I have been wondering whether they would be proud to know me now."

"You're being ridiculous. Or worse, sentimental."

"I'm being honest. We've become nothing more than common thieves. Criminals. How did we come to this, Rekela? What happened to our honor?"

"Now you sound like a Klingon." Her tone was disdainful. "We have survived. That is our triumph."

Chakotay thought, She must have a great deal of power on this ship to be so disrespectful to his face.

Datik looked at the Captain again, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps. Yet she has also survived, without disgracing her family. You heard her. She proposed an alliance between us, said we could help each other get home again."

Rekela rolled her eyes. "Of course she did. She would have said anything to stop the pain."

"No. She believed it." He turned abruptly. "You're through here, Rekela. I'm taking her back to the Infirmary."

"She really got to you, didn't she? This pitiful Human got under your skin." Rekela's eyes narrowed. "You're not even going to auction her, are you? You're going to let her go."

Datik said nothing, but turned to release the shackles.

Rekela grabbed his arm and with surprising strength, spun him to face her. "Are you that stupid? Aside from the fact that the crew won't stand for it, what about her? Do you think she'll just wave thank you and goodbye and be on her way? Her crew will come after us with everything they've got."

He touched the control panel, and the Captain's chains were released. Datik caught her at once. "I'll make up the auction price to the crew, and I am confident that she will simply move on."

"I won't allow it."

Datik's demeanor hardened. "Do not overreach yourself. I command here, not you and not the Obsidian Order."

Chakotay checked the time. The minute had passed, and the grenade had not fired. He was out of time. He had to come out of phase then, or be incapacitated by nausea and disorientation. But he couldn't risk more injury to the Captain. As an agent of the Obsidian Order, Rekela was the more dangerous of the two, and needed to be neutralized first.

Moving behind her, Chakotay drew his only weapon, a knife, and returned to normal phase. He had her firmly in his grasp and his blade to her throat before she knew what was happening. "Don't move."

Tuvok moved carefully about the Weapons Room, which held the main controls for the phaser banks and the torpedo bays. One individual, a grizzled and scarred Cardassian, was the only person present. Tuvok waited as long as he dared, hoping the technician would leave, but at last made a decision. Positioning himself directly behind the individual, he deactivated the device and returned to phase.

The technician suddenly sensed someone directly behind him, but before he could turn, Tuvok had a hand on his neck. Cardassian anatomy required some adjustments to the Vulcan neck pinch, but it was not the first time Tuvok had been confronted with this situation and he rendered the technician unconscious within three seconds. He moved quickly to hide his grenades, one on each of the control panels and a third in the torpedo bay itself. The grenades were on a three minute timer.

He was now faced with a dilemma. They had not tested the reaction to a rapid out of phase-normal phase-out of phase sequence, but the Doctor had warned against it. Should he risk the possible disorientation that using the shield again might mean, or should he try to make his way to safety in normal phase and risk capture?

It required only a moment's thought to decide to try the shield, but it was a moment too long. The doors to the Weapons Room opened and a Mari crewman entered with his weapon drawn and stopped in surprise at seeing a stranger. Tuvok hit the activation control on the shield.

The crewman drew a weapon and pointed it directly at Tuvok. "Don't move, alien."

"I assume that means you see me quite clearly."

"There's nothing wrong with my eyes."

Tuvok nodded. "Indeed."

Gesturing toward the door, the crewman said, "This way. Slowly."

Then the doors opened again, and a Human walked in. Like the other, his weapon was drawn. "Good work, Tiniral. I've been waiting for this one. Maastrac let him get away."

Tiniral grinned. "Yeah? He's getting old. Old and slow."

"I'll take him back to the Infirmary for processing."

"You?" Tiniral laughed harshly. "Why not just hand him the controls of a shuttle? I'll take him. You stick to being a medic."

"Not today," the Human said pleasantly, and aimed his weapon at Tiniral. The Mari disappeared in a flash of orange light. "You always were a jerk."

Tuvok turned from the empty air that had just held Tiniral to the Human. "Thank you. Your timing is fortuitous."

He shrugged. "The Infirmary alarms began to scream when Vulcan life signs were spotted. My name is Hernandez. Come on. Your friend is waiting for you."

Act 4: Escape

Datik's eyes crinkled in a way that might have been amusement in a Human, or maybe surprise. "So. Are you rescuing your Captain?"

"Yes." Chakotay needed to get close to Kathryn again, to be ready for transport. "I'll trade you, this one for her. If you let us go, we'll move on, with no reprisals."

Rekela twisted in his grip, trying to get away. She failed. "Datik," she hissed, either pleading for help or angry because he was doing nothing. Chakotay pressed the blade tighter against her scales.

He looked at Chakotay intently. "You see us as enemies, don't you?"

"With good reason."

"Then why should I believe you?"

He could think of only one answer. "Because you believed Captain Janeway."

Datik nodded slowly, but before he could hand Kathryn over, the first grenade exploded and the ship lurched. It was followed quickly by a second explosion which rocked in the opposite direction, and Chakotay lost his balance.

Rekela took advantage of the moment and wrenched out of his grasp. She twirled away and reached for her side arm. Her mouth twisted into a grin.

There was no time. Chakotay had hoped to accomplish this without killing anyone, but she left him no alternatives. He threw the knife, trusting skills long out of practice, and watched as it lodged to the hilt in her throat. She collapsed to the floor with a look of surprise.

He caught his breath. It had been a long time since he killed anyone hand-to-hand, and he had forgotten how shocking it was. But he couldn't dwell on it, this was not over yet. Unarmed, he turned to Datik to assess his reaction. Chakotay hoped he didn't have to kill him, too, but was ready to try.

Datik stared at Rekela, sprawled on the deck. "Well. I was going to have to dispose of her soon in any case. You seem to have saved me a great deal of trouble." He looked at him coolly. "Tell me something, Starfleet officer. What is Janeway to you, that she commands such loyalty?"

The question confused him it seemed irrelevant. "She's my captain, and my friend."

The Cardassian stared at him, but again Chakotay could not interpret the emotions behind the look. "I have commanded this ship for forty years," he said at last, "and if I were in your captain's position, my crew would have cut their losses and run. You will not get back to the Alpha Quadrant if you take such risks."

"I'll get back with her or not at all."

"Brave words." Datik looked at him for what felt like an eternity. "Here. Take her."

Surprised, Chakotay took Kathryn carefully into his arms. Her head rolled against him but she did not open her eyes. It was hard to look away from her, back to Datik. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." His expression shifted, became more intense. "Once you leave this room, I will do nothing more to help you. And I will do what I must to satisfy my crew."

Chakotay nodded, but his reply was cut off as the transporter beam seized them, and the Malik Ohn vanished in the familiar shimmer. When the universe coalesced again, they stood on the transporter pad of the Delta Flyer. B'Elanna and the Doctor stood just off the pad, the latter waiting with a tricorder in hand. Even before Chakotay stepped down, the Doctor began his scan.

"Set her on the biobed," he said, his brow furrowed. "I can stabilize her, but we need to get back to the ship quickly. You got her out just in time, Commander."

He laid her on the bed with all the care and gentleness of which he was capable, but even so she groaned with pain. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him. "Wha-"

"We're on the Flyer," he said quickly, to reassure her. To reassure himself, he stroked her cheek softly. "It's over."

He couldn't be certain if she understood, or even heard, him; her eyes closed again. B'Elanna touched his arm. "Leave her to the Doctor. They need you forward."

With a quick nod and last look at Kathryn, he hurried to the forward cabin and scrambled to the forward compartment to take the co-pilot's seat.

Paris barely looked up. "You were late. We've got phase disruption. Engines are offline."

"Tuvok and Neelix?" Chakotay asked, swiveling to look at Seven, seated at the Tactical station.

"Transporting now." He frowned. "They brought someone with them."

The comm system was open between the two compartments, and Paris said, "We can use the engines any time, B'Elanna."

"Seven, get down here," Torres said in reply. "I need you."

Chakotay nearly smiled. Those were words he never expected from Torres. Tuvok slid smoothly into Seven's empty station.

Paris studied his screen. "They're coming about. Please tell me they have no weapons."

"The main phaser and torpedo control ports have been destroyed," Tuvok replied.

"Then what's that in the aft section?"

There was a brief silence, then Tuvok said, "They must have added an aft weapons array."

"Maximum power to shields," Chakotay said. Half a second later, the ship rocked from phaser fire. "Shields are holding," he reported. "Good job, B'Elanna."

Torres replied, "We're not done yet. Weapons should be on-line now."

"Confirmed," Tuvok reported, then added, "They are powering aft torpedoes."

Chakotay slammed his fist on the communications control. "Malik Ohn. Stand down. You have no shields. We can destroy you."

From his bridge, Datik answered. "And we can destroy you. An interesting strategy for a rescue."

Chakotay checked the ship's status, and found that Datik's claim was exaggerated, but not much. The Flyer's shields could not withstand torpedoes or sustained phaser fire, but neither could the Malik Ohn. It was a question of who struck the hardest, first. He turned to Tuvok. "Ready phasers."

Then he responded to Datik, hoping that reason would prevail. "You must be able to see that our weapons are equal to yours. It's a stalemate. Let's go our separate ways and call it a draw."

There was a long silence. Just as he was about to give the order to fire, the reply finally came. "Tell me, Starfleet officer, what happened between Cardassia and the Federation in the past 30 years? Were we enemies, or allies?"

"Both. Enemies, then allies, then enemies again. The last we heard, the war between us was over." The relevance of the question eluded him, but instinct told him to answer truthfully. He looked at Tuvok, signaling him to be ready.

"And yet you answered our distress call." There was another long silence, then, "Stalemate it is."

Chakotay's shoulders sagged with relief.

"If you make it home, tell them about us. Tell them we survive."

"We will," he promised.

Torres called from aft. "We've got impulse engines."

"We're outta here," Paris said, and the Delta Flyer turned and left the Malik Ohn behind.


Epilogue

Kathryn sat at the table in her own quarters while Chakotay served dinner. The Doctor had discharged her from Sickbay to her quarters with instructions that she was to do nothing more strenuous than dress for bed and eat something. The lack of argument from her told Chakotay that she was not as fully recovered as she claimed to be, and he had no intention of letting her overdo. He thought she looked tired and unusually delicate.

Voyager had resumed course for the Alpha quadrant without any further contact with the Malik Ohn. Chakotay had decided that the dangers of any further confrontation would not be worth the benefit of eliminating one pirate ship from an area populated with them. He also felt that he owed Datik that much for their escape.

Neelix had suffered minor but painful injuries at the hands of the Cardassians; typical of the process, a molar had been extracted without painkillers, and he was extensively bruised. Despite that, and the loss of his ship, he was immensely cheerful. For once, he had actually participated in the action and he was now happily engaged in using that fact to persuade Tuvok and anyone else who would listen how useful he would be on the Security team.

Hernandez, the Human medic, was resting in guest quarters. He had beamed back to the Flyer with Neelix and Tuvok and then asked to be dropped off at the first hospitable planet. He told them he wouldn't know how to live a Starfleet life any more. And, he admitted, there was a person he wanted to find, a Narcadian woman who had been captured by Datik and sold as a slave.

Tuvok had retired his quarters to meditate.

Kathryn had been fairly solemn since they returned to her quarters, but as she watched him balance two bowls of soup and two bread plates, she smiled. "You've got hidden talents, Commander. Where did you learn to do that?"

"At home. My mother insisted that no one could begin eating until we were all at the table and served, so I learned how to get as many plates out at one time as I could." With the plates deposited, he adopted the formal stance of a waiter and picked up the pitcher of water. "Your beverage, Madame."

She smiled. "Be careful. I could get accustomed to this."

"It's all part of the service."

The smile faded; her expression became rueful. "Cooking, waiting table, rescuing wayward captains you're a versatile man."

He recognized the signs. Despite the self-deprecating humor in her voice, he knew she was blaming herself for the entire incident. "Don't," he said quietly, as he took his seat.

To his relief, she neither protested nor pretended not to understand. All she said was, "Tell me how you did it."

He gave her a quick outline of the mission, omitting only the fact that he had killed Rekela. It was in his official report, but he didn't want to dwell on it then or upset her while she was still recovering. "I heard Datik say you offered him an alliance."

She nodded. "We had a chance to talk briefly, when Rekela left the room once. I asked him about my father. They were each assigned to cultivate the other, but my father wasn't very good at it. He was a brilliant engineer but a lousy spy. As it happened, so was Datik and they wound up confessing their assignment to one another over a bottle of Romulan Ale. They still tried to steal information from each other but managed to become friends in the process. Then Starfleet ordered my father to help get Hernandez on the ship."

"Did you ask him about the accident?"

"Yes. He said he didn't know anything, and I believe it. He'd been gone for too long. I guess that will just have to go unanswered a while longer."

"You must have had quite a conversation with him. He liked you. He was considering that alliance."

She shrugged. "I sensed that he was disenchanted with the pirate lifestyle and suggested that we had a better chance of getting home if we worked together. It seemed a reasonable way out of the situation he could turn his attention to returning to Cardassia and let me go without losing standing with his crew."

"But he didn't take you up on it."

Her expression turned rueful. "He never really had a chance. Rekela came back and decided to teach me subservience." Her mouth tugged a little to the side; they didn't need to review what happened next. She tried a mouthful of soup. "This is good what did you say it was?"

"Ribollita. I can't picture you subservient under any circumstances. You probably weren't even a very good plebe at the Academy."

She laughed lightly. "That would be a matter of opinion." Then she became serious again. "It's blurry, but do I remember that you killed Rekela?"

He set his spoon down and nodded once. "Yes."

Leaning forward, she reached across the table and touched his hand. "I'm sorry. It's never easy."

"No. But it was necessary." He would pray for Rekela's spirit before he slept, he told himself. And he would pray for his own, because he felt no remorse at all for her death. She had hurt Kathryn too badly for him to feel any regret.

The silence stretched just a little too long, and he tried to lighten the mood. "You can be proud of the crew. Everyone was determined to get you back safely."

"And I want them all to know I'm grateful." She picked up her water glass, watched the liquid swirl. "You're entitled to say it, you know."

"What?"

"That you told me so." She leaned back in her chair, her eyes sad. "I never expected it to go so badly."

"And I expected worse. Datik surprised me, though, by letting us go without a fight."

She nodded, but still seemed troubled. "Still, if I had taken your recommendation and avoided them entirely, we all would have been spared this ordeal."

He hesitated a moment, finding it hard to admit this, even to her. "No. You were right." Her eyes widened in surprise, and he went on, "We had to respond, in order to hold on to what we are. What we aspire to be.

"This is a hard quadrant, Kathryn. It challenges us almost every day. If we start compromising our values in the name of prudence, eventually prudence will be more important than the values. And when that happens, we'll be lost.

"You made us confront the darker angels of our nature. In the end, that may be what saves us."

Her cheeks flushed, a pale pink that much improved her pallor, and her eyes misted over, a sign that she was tired. "How is it," she asked, struggling to control herself, "that you always seem to know the right thing to say to me when the crisis is over?"

"That's not completely accurate." Thinking of the few times they had seriously disagreed in the past, he couldn't help smiling. They were recovering much faster this time. "But we're getting better at it, I think."

"It won't be the last time. We're going to disagree again."

"Probably."

"No. Certainly. I want your promise, Chakotay. You won't stop giving me your best counsel just because it makes me angry or I disagree."

Her eyes were almost boring into him, and he realized that this important to her. Perhaps, he thought, it was important for them. "Promise."

To his complete surprise, she set her napkin on the table and came around to stand beside him. He looked up in confusion and she laid her hand against his face.

"I need you," she said quietly. "I don't know that I've ever told you that. I couldn't do this without you."

He looked at her, completely astonished. In all their time together, she had never said anything remotely like that. Before he remembered to breathe, she slowly traced the line of his cheekbone with her thumb, back and forth. In all their time together, she had never done anything that felt as intimate, and it took his breath away.

Then she straightened, her gaze still fixed on him. "Good night, Chakotay. I'm going to sleep now. Can you let yourself out?"

"Of course." He sat very still, not quite believing that what had just happened. As she pulled away he caught her hand. "Sleep well, Kathryn."

She smiled, and turned and left.

Feeling better than he had in days, he recycled the dinner dishes. There are wrongs that cannot be forgotten, he thought, but time works its own justice. Perhaps sometimes forgiveness was just a matter of valuing the present more than the past, and hoping for a better future.