chapter 26

 

 

Lynne rushed to B’Elanna’s bed, checking the pulse in her throat. She turned back to Seven with a worried expression. “I can barely feel her pulse, Seven. I need the medkit.”

Seven turned to the leader of the Santori guard, who stood just outside the door. “I did not deceive you when I said that pack contained tools to heal our companion. It is obvious that your people have already attempted to assist her; why would you not allow us to do the same thing?”

The Santori leader paused, then motioned toward the male who carried the pack. In a moment the pack had been deposited at his feet. “I am sorry for the necessity of such distrust,” he said, “but I cannot give you this pack. We have not survived this long by letting down our guard. Name the item you require, and I will determine if it is safe to give you.”

Seven resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. “I require the small box at the bottom of the pack. It contains medical instruments and compounds that will help her.”

The leader unzipped the pack and rummaged through the contents, coming up with the medkit. Opening it, he examined the contents thoroughly. Finally he rose and entered the room, handing the kit to Seven, who immediately passed it to Lynne.

Lynne looked up at the leader. “Thank you.” She pulled out the medical tricorder and passed it over B’Elanna, checking the readings with a frown. “God, Seven, she’s a mess. Cuts and broken bones everywhere, a punctured lung, bruised liver and internal bleeding. I can fix the bones and the surface injuries, but she needs surgery. We have to get her back to the ship as soon as possible.” Pulling out the bone knitter, she set to work healing the most critical fracture.

The Santori leader stared. “Do you mean to say that instrument can heal a broken bone? Without even touching it?”

Lynne answered without looking up from her work. “Yes. It works by sending out a frequency that stimulates the cells of the bone to regenerate. But you still have to make sure the ends of the bones are lined up properly, or you’ll just heal it wrong.”

The room was silent except for the humming of the bone knitter. After a few moments, the leader looked at the ceiling and spoke. “Soonan, have you heard all that has passed between us?”

A voice came from speakers that were mounted in the wall above B’Elanna’s bed. “Yes. Let the dark one continue, and bring the light one to me.”

Motioning to Seven, the leader said, “Come. You will walk with me.” Seven hesitated, looking from him to Lynne. “She will be safe,” said the leader. “Soonan only wishes to speak with you.”

“I think it’s okay, Seven,” said Lynne. “They must mean well since they’ve made such an effort to help B’Elanna.”

Seven did not share Lynne’s optimistic view of their captors’ behavior. She could think of many reasons to attempt the healing of an unknown alien, few of them motivated by benevolence. “I will not go. I do not wish to be separated from my shipmates,” she said. “Why does Soonan not come to us?”

Laughter boomed from the speakers. “She is wise to be so cautious in the territory of another. I believe I can accommodate this request.”

The Santori looked at each other with expressions that indicated astonishment. “Soonan greatly honors you,” said the leader. “He does not normally leave his quarters.”

Privately, Seven thought that Soonan did not normally find aliens in his hallways, either. She doubted that she was all that honored.

While they waited, Lynne finished healing the first bone and set to work on another. “Seven,” she said, “could you get the dermal regenerator out and heal her surface injuries? They’re not critical, but we might as well do everything we can.”

Seven knelt beside Lynne, pulled the regenerator from the medkit and began passing it over the cuts and contusions on B’Elanna’s face. As the injuries faded and vanished altogether, she could hear gasps among the watching Santori.

Soon Seven’s keen ears caught the sound of something motorized in the hallway. It grew louder as it approached, then slowed as it reached the doorway. The guards outside the room stepped back, and a Santori in a wheeled chair moved into the room. He paused, looking over at the two women. “I am Soonan. Please pardon our cautious behavior toward you; we have spent many lifetimes overcoming our natural tendencies toward trust. It is a requirement when sharing a planet with the Tsians. What are your names and from where do you come?”

“I am Seven of Nine,” said Seven. She gestured toward Lynne. “This is my friend and shipmate, Lynne Hamilton. The woman in the bed is also our shipmate, B’Elanna Torres. We come from a planet far from here, and have stopped on your world at the invitation of the Tsians. They have offered us supplies for our continued journey.” She thought it wise not to mention the alliance at this time.

Lynne looked up from her work. “Thank you for caring for our shipmate. How did she come to be here?”

“She was found outside one of our portals,” said Soonan. “The same one you entered. We keep several portals open on the mountain, and each has a proximity detector. That is how we found her and you, as well. We were aware of you before you crossed the threshold.”

Lynne nodded. “We’re very grateful to you for all you’ve done to help her. But she’ll die if we don’t return her to our ship. If your people had nothing to do with the attack yesterday, then you can have no objection to letting us go. May we leave?”

Soonan curved his thin lips in what might be a smile. “How delightful to experience courtesy from another species. You cannot be too close to the Tsians, obviously, or they would have taught you to drop such behavior. Unfortunately, I cannot grant your request.”

Lynne opened her mouth to respond, but Seven spoke first. “You speak ill of the Tsians, just as they do of you. How did such enmity begin?”

“It began long before my grandsire was born,” said Soonan. “The Tsians have attempted for generations to eradicate our species. Once we enjoyed an aboveground existence, glorying in the sun during the day and the stars at night. It has been long since a Santori dared to show his head aboveground without a squadron of armed fellows behind him. The Tsians had superior technology, and used it to take our land and force us into a starvation existence on poor lands. Then they decided that even those poor lands had resources that could be useful to them, so they attempted to remove us from the planet altogether. By then we had discovered their limitation—they cannot function in areas of extreme cold—and we fled to the only place where the Tsians could not follow. Since then we have built entire cities underground, but we live for only one thing:  to someday exterminate the Tsians and resume our existence in our old lands.”

“Do the Tsians know the locations of your cities?” asked Seven.

“They do not, and that is why you will not be leaving us. We cannot risk that you will reveal this location to the Tsians. We have remained safe this long only because we guard this location so carefully. The rock surrounding us blocks all of our internal communications and the Tsians’ scans; there is nothing they can use to track us here.”

“Except for us,” said Seven.

“Precisely,” said Soonan. “You see now why I cannot allow your departure, much as I regret the situation of your friend.”

“You misunderstand me,” said Seven. “I meant that the Tsians will track us here if we do not leave.”

Soonan sat forward in his chair, his pale eyes fixed intently on Seven. “You will explain this statement.”

Everything had clicked into place for Seven, and Lynne’s expression showed that she had come to the same conclusion.

“So that’s why they attacked,” Lynne said softly. Seven nodded.

Soonan struck his hand against the arm of his chair. “I asked you for an explanation; you will do me the courtesy of responding. What do you mean by this?” The other Santori crowded in the doorway, intent on the conversation.

Lynne spoke as she moved the bone knitter to a third fracture. “Soonan, my friend and I were both injured when we were attacked at the summit of this mountain. I was able to get a good look at the fighter that shot us off the summit. It was white with black stripes across the wingtips.”

“One of ours,” said Soonan. “But we did not even know of your existence, and even if we had, we would not have attacked. It was obviously the Tsians—they have downed several of our fighters and salvaged the ships.”

“Yes,” said Seven, “we realize that now. But our shipmates do not. When our captain contacted the Tsians about the attack, she was told of a race called the Fallons who were responsible. The fact that it was one of your fighters seemed to confirm it. She has been spending every moment since then trying to find either B’Elanna or your people, and our captain is not the type to cease her efforts until she is successful. The Tsians may not be able to locate your cities, but our ship is technologically advanced and will eventually find you. It is only a matter of time. Then, believing that you are responsible for the attack, our captain will inform the Tsians of your location.”

“You said the Tsians were playing with us,” said Lynne, looking at the lead guard. “You were more right than you realized.” She shifted her gaze to Soonan. “They’ve been playing with both of us. They’re using us to get to you.”

Soonan sat back in his chair. “I do not believe you. These cities have gone undetected for two generations; it is unlikely that your ship will find us as you say.”

Lynne held up the bone knitter. “You’ve just seen me heal broken bones without touching them, and you’ve seen Seven heal cuts and contusions the same way. If our medical technology is this advanced, why would you doubt that the rest of our technology is equally advanced? We’re telling you the truth. Unless you let us go, your generation will be the last to live in these cities.”

Seven saw Soonan hesitate, and pressed the advantage. “We will tell our captain that the Santori are innocent,” she said. “When she learns that the Tsians have betrayed us, it will not be the Santori who need fear the technology of our ship. But we cannot tell our captain of this while you keep us here. Return us to the surface; our ship can retrieve us as soon as we are aboveground. Once we are safely aboard, our captain will no longer have a reason to expend resources locating your cities. But the longer we are absent, the more likely it is that you will be found.”

Soonan stared at the women for several seconds, then whirled his chair around. “Get them to the nearest portal, now! Move!”

The small room seemed to fill with people as the Santori guards poured in. Lynne stood back in surprise as two of them brushed past her to disconnect and deactivate the machines surrounding B’Elanna’s bed. At the same time, the other two lifted the bed and dropped a set of rollers from beneath it. Without a pause, all four wheeled the bed past Soonan and out into the hall.

“Go!” said Soonan. “I will be right behind you.”

Lynne and Seven paused only long enough to gather their tools into the pack, which had been dropped by the lead guard. Then they ran after the guards, who were already at the end of the hallway and vanishing around a corner. Seven could hear the motorized chair whirring behind them. The strange parade attracted a great deal of attention from other Santori as they passed, but soon they left the more populated areas and were pounding down empty corridors. The guards did not slow until they finally came to a metal door, which opened as the group ran toward it. A second door slid open behind it, and Seven blinked as she emerged into brilliant sunlight.

They were on a ledge far below the elevation at which they’d entered the city—Seven noted the difference in atmospheric pressure—but still high in the snowfields of the mountain. After their sojourn under the mountain, the sun glittering on snow and ice made Seven’s human eye hurt.

“You said your ship could retrieve you as soon as you reached the surface,” said Soonan, arriving in his chair. “Why do you delay in contacting it?”

Seven turned to the Santori leader. “We will leave now. But I am sure our captain would be interested in speaking with you about the Tsians. We can take you with us if you wish. You will be returned safely.”

Soonan gazed at her. The lead guard moved forward. “Soonan, do not! It could be a trap!”

Seven fixed the guard with a look of disdain, then turned back to Soonan. “Whether you come or not makes no difference to me. I am simply making an offer. But you must decide now.”

Still the Santori leader said nothing, looking from Seven to Lynne and back again. Finally his eye fell on B’Elanna, still unconscious in the bed. “I will go with you,” he said.

“Soonan, no!” The lead guard moved in front of the chair, but Soonan lifted his hand.

“Josen, go back inside,” he said. The guard paused, then withdrew to join the other Santori just outside the door.

“I am ready,” said Soonan.

Seven unzipped her snowsuit and tapped her commbadge. “Seven of Nine to Voyager.”

“Seven. Are you all right?” Captain Janeway’s voice sounded calm as usual, but Seven’s enhanced hearing picked up a slight tremor.

“I am undamaged, as is Lynne. We have recovered B’Elanna Torres. She is alive, but in need of immediate medical attention. We also have with us the leader of the Santori people, whom you know as the Fallons. He wishes to speak with you. Permission to beam him aboard.”

“Granted. We’re beaming you directly to sickbay. Janeway out.”

The Santori guards stared in shock and alarm as their leader and the three women all dissolved. In a moment there was nothing left on the ledge but an empty bed, its sheets rustling in the icy wind.

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 27

 

 

Janeway looked around the bridge and knew that the relieved expressions she saw mirrored her own. “Tuvok,” she said, “dispatch a security team to sickbay. Chakotay, recall the search team and tell Tom to come home. I’m going to meet our new guest.” She rose from her chair, her sense of relief so profound that it almost made her lightheaded. All of my shuttles are back in the bay, she thought, with a smile at the image produced by the old saying. But the unknown extent of B’Elanna’s injuries was still a concern.

Entering sickbay a few minutes later, she found Seven, Lynne, the Doctor and an alien in a wheeled chair all gathered around a biobed. She strode up to the little group, feeling an electric jolt go through her as Lynne looked up and met her eyes. With her command mask firmly in place, she offered a quiet greeting.

“Seven. Lynne. It’s good to have you back on board.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Seven.

“It’s good to be back,” Lynne added. Janeway heard the careful tone of her voice and knew that Lynne was, for the moment, on her best behavior.

She knows she’s in trouble. But she has no idea how much. Janeway turned to the alien in the chair. “I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway. Welcome aboard my ship.”

“Thank you, Captain Janeway,” he said, his voice exuding a quiet authority. “I am Soonan, leader of the Santori people. I am somewhat astonished to find myself here. When Seven said your ship could retrieve us, I did not realize she meant that you could do so without sending an atmospheric ship. I have never heard of such technology. It would appear that she was not bluffing after all.”

“I do not bluff,” said Seven, sounding just a little indignant.

Soonan turned to her. “Perhaps you should learn. It can be very useful.” Seven’s facial expression indicated that she did not agree with this assessment, and Janeway stifled a smile.

“Soonan,” she said, “I would like to take you to an area where we can have a private conversation. If you will excuse me, however, I need to speak with our doctor first.”

“Certainly,” said Soonan. He turned his chair and wheeled across the sickbay, stopping to speak with the security guards who flanked the door.

Janeway moved closer to the bed, looking into the face of her unconscious chief engineer for the first time. “How is she?” she asked.

The Doctor tapped a few controls on the bed’s panel. “Her injuries are serious, but not fatal. She’ll make a full recovery in time. Fortunately, the redundant systems of the Klingon half of her physiology have kept things running. A full human would not have survived such a fall.”

Janeway turned to Seven and Lynne. “Where did you find her?”

It was Lynne who answered, still in that careful, almost formal tone. “The Santori found her—outside their back door, so to speak. She fell into a crevasse about 600 meters from the summit, and the crevasse itself was almost fifteen meters deep.”

“Captain,” said Seven, “the Santori were not responsible for the attack. It was a carefully planned ruse by the Tsians, designed to draw us into their conflict and help them by revealing the location of the Santori cities.”

“Yes, I know,” said Janeway. Lynne looked surprised, but Seven merely raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been busy up here while you two went for your little unauthorized away mission,” she continued, staring directly into Lynne’s eyes and seeing her slight flinch. “And there’s still a lot to be done, which is why I don’t have the time right now to deal with you. I’ll want a full report from both of you on my desk in one hour. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” said Seven. Lynne simply nodded, her face pale.

“Good.” Janeway turned to the Doctor, who was ignoring the conversation as he prepared B’Elanna for surgery. “How long do you expect B’Elanna’s recovery to take, Doctor?”

“It will be several days, Captain. Her body has been severely traumatized by the impact, and there is some internal bleeding. Now if you three wouldn’t mind taking your discussion elsewhere, I can start repairing some of that trauma.”

Janeway clamped down on her irritation at the Doctor’s clipped speech, reminding herself that he was just doing his job. “All right. We’re leaving.” Addressing Lynne and Seven, she said, “I’ll take Soonan from here. You’re dismissed.”

Seven immediately headed for the doors, but Lynne hesitated. She looked at Janeway, seemed about to say something, then turned without a word to follow Seven out of sickbay.

Janeway let her breath out slowly and walked over to Soonan, who had watched this interchange with interest.

“You don’t seem overly pleased with the performance of your people,” he observed. “They did accomplish their goal, did they not?”

“Yes, they did,” said Janeway. “But I did not assign them that goal.”

“Ah,” said Soonan. “So you now must punish them for acting without authorization, even though they were successful and even though you benefit from their success. That is one of the greatest trials of being a leader.”

Janeway was a little startled. “You see very clearly, Soonan.”

The alien made a sound that Janeway assumed was a chuckle. “One learns to see clearly from down here,” he said. “It is perhaps the only advantage of being on the wrong end of a Tsian missile.”

“That is a topic we shall have to discuss,” said Janeway. “Will you accompany me?”

Soonan turned his chair around. “It would be my pleasure. I suspect I will only receive such an offer once in my lifetime.”

Janeway dismissed the security team as they left sickbay, to Soonan’s apparent surprise. “Captain Janeway,” he said a few moments later, “I am surprised that a leader of your stature would allow a stranger to accompany you without benefit of guards. Are you not concerned about your safety?”

“I believe that trust is one of the most powerful tools of leadership,” said Janeway as she pressed the turbolift call button. Soonan looked at her with open skepticism.

“Then you are either very foolish or very fortunate,” he said. “Or both. In my experience, trust is something given only to friends, not to strangers. Otherwise it may have fatal results.” The turbolift doors opened, and Janeway stepped in.

“I said trust, not blind trust,” said Janeway as she waited for Soonan to roll across the threshold. “When you were brought to my ship, the transporter beam deactivated any energy weapon you might have been carrying. The security team then scanned you for any other type of non-energy weaponry, and if they had found anything, they would have removed it from you immediately. I’m satisfied that you are worthy of my trust at the moment.”

Soonan chuckled. “Now you are making more sense. Tell me, Captain Janeway, were you also satisfied that the Tsians were worthy of your trust?”

Janeway had seen this one coming. “Yes. And I still believe it.” The turbolift doors opened on deck one, and she gestured for Soonan to go first. He rolled into the corridor and seemed barely able to wait until she came up alongside him before expressing his astonishment.

“How can you say such a thing when they betrayed you?”

Janeway looked down at her guest, who was fairly bristling with disbelief and a hint of condescension. In her mildest tones, she said, “The Tsian people did not betray me. One individual Tsian did, and I will not judge an entire culture by the actions of one.”

Soonan shook his head disapprovingly. “You are an idealist.”

Their conversation was temporarily interrupted as they entered the conference room, and Soonan rolled to the expansive viewports with an expression of wonder.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Janeway, joining him as they viewed the blue and green planet below them.

“More so than I ever dreamed,” breathed Soonan. “I’ve seen the vids from the Tsian excursions into space, but that’s nothing like being here myself.”

Janeway gave him a few minutes to bask in the view, then walked to the conference table and removed a chair opposite the viewports, making space for Soonan. He rolled himself to the table as she took her customary seat.

“You speak of idealism as if it were a negative attribute,” said Janeway, once they were settled. “Yet it was idealism that propelled my people into space, and it is idealism that has sustained my crew for seventy sun cycles of travel in often-hostile space.”

“I do not mean to be disrespectful,” said Soonan, “but seventy sun cycles is nothing. You can afford to be idealistic here in your powerful ship with your advanced technology. We have been at war for generations, and have spent the last two generations hiding underground. On my world, idealism is nothing but foolishness, resulting in disappointment at the very least and death at the worst.”

“And would you call it foolishness that the locations of your cities have not been revealed to the Tsians?” asked Janeway.

“Of course not,” said Soonan, oblivious to her tactics. “That is a blessing.”

Janeway sprang the trap. “Then you should know that it is only because of one Tsian’s idealism that your cities remain undiscovered.”

“What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

“I told you that one individual Tsian had betrayed us. That was T’sin Lessia herself. She arranged the attack in order to make us believe that your people had done it, knowing that my ship had the technology to find your cities. It would have worked, too, but for one thing that the t’sin couldn’t have predicted:  another Tsian found out what had happened, and proceeded to risk both his career and his life to come to us and inform us of the truth. He did this because he believes in the code of honor that his people espouse, and was ashamed of the dishonorable actions of the t’sin. He is an idealist, Soonan. And he is the only thing that stood between you and the exposure of your cities. Would you call him foolish for saving you? Or would you call his actions a blessing?”

Soonan sat back in his chair with a chuckle. “Well done, Captain Janeway. No, I would call his actions a blessing. And I suppose you now expect me to be so grateful for the actions of this one obviously atypical Tsian that I will rethink my entire philosophy.”

“I’m not so idealistic as that,” said Janeway with a faint smile. “I just wanted you to understand that, although it was a Tsian who almost exposed you, it was also a Tsian who saved you. They are not all the same, Soonan, just as all Santori are not the same. Every race has its good and bad elements, and it is only when people forget this that war becomes possible.”

“A very pretty speech,” said Soonan. “I will allow that your beliefs are good ones and do credit to you and your people. But generations of war will not suddenly end because one Santori knows that one Tsian did a good and honorable thing.”

“No, it won’t,” said Janeway. “But what if more Santori know that more Tsians do good and honorable things? Every war does end, and there are only two possible outcomes. There will be a victor—which means there will be a loser—or the two sides will come to an agreement to stop fighting. What happens when the Tsians find you? Will they annihilate you? If your best defense is to remain undiscovered, then I hope you’re making plans for the day your cities are found, because it’s only a matter of time. It may be two more generations, or it may be tomorrow, but it will almost certainly happen. You must know this. And if, when that time comes, all Tsians and all Santori still hate each other, then the bloodshed will be enormous. Can you afford to risk that? Do you want the Santori to live in a state of war for generations after you? Or would it be more sensible to begin building bridges now, with individual Tsians who live by their code of honor, in the hopes of eventually ending this without so much death? Maybe even ending it so that the Santori can once again live in peace?”

The room was silent as Soonan stared at Janeway for long moments. She met his stare, hoping that some tiny piece of her message had gotten through.

“You are a persuasive speaker,” he said at length. “For a moment I could actually envision an end to our conflict without the annihilation of one or both races. But that is only a dream. It will never happen as long as T’sin Lessia remains in power. She will allow nothing less than the total destruction of our people. And I want nothing less than the total destruction of the Tsians, so that the Santori can live free once again.”

Janeway restrained a sigh. “Then you’ve made the stakes very high, Soonan. And from what I’ve seen of the Tsians, their technology is quite advanced. Do you have the technology to match them? A good gambler doesn’t bet everything unless he can afford to lose, and this isn’t something you can afford to lose.” She leaned forward, trying one last time. “T’sin Lessia can’t remain in power forever. She is not young. And when she passes her role to another, younger Tsian, there will be a window of opportunity for a new kind of communication between your peoples.” She saw Soonan preparing a hot response and forestalled him, holding up a hand. “I’m not here to tell you how to lead your people, Soonan. Nor am I prepared to involve myself or my crew in starting or mediating negotiations that will probably take many sun cycles. I just wanted you to know what I know about the Tsians, namely that they are not all bad, and some are very honorable.”

It was time to end this line of conversation, she thought. There was nothing she could say that would make a difference to one so entrenched in prejudice. She offered the Santori leader a smile and added, “I also wanted to thank you for rescuing and caring for my crewmember. For that I am very grateful.”

Soonan narrowed his eyes. “And would your gratitude manifest itself in, perhaps, the sharing of technology that would aid us?”

Janeway shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Neither my own beliefs nor those of my government would allow it.” She moved her hand in the direction of the viewports. “I can, however, offer you a once-in-a-lifetime view.”

Soonan stared at her for a moment, then his face relaxed into a smile. “Well then, Captain Janeway, I will accept your gift. It is a magnificent view.”

“Yes, it is. Now,” Janeway said, sitting back in her chair, “tell me about the Santori. I would like to know more about a people who could build underground cities and remain undiscovered for two generations.”

Soonan seemed more than willing to share stories of his people’s accomplishments. Janeway listened attentively, appreciating the courage and persistence of the Santori in general and Soonan in particular. She only hoped that he had listened to her in turn, and would remember her advice. The time for him to act was approaching rapidly, though he did not know it.

 

 

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Josen stood on the snowy ledge, watching and waiting. His vigil had lasted for some time now, and the others had all retreated inside, not wishing to remain in the freezing air. But he could not bring himself to leave. What if Soonan actually did come back, and found himself alone? It was unthinkable for the leader of the Santori to be outside unguarded.

He shivered and pulled his wrap closer about his body. The heat reflective material kept his body warm, but he had no headpiece and the wind was chillingly cold on his face and ears. He squinted toward the sun, unwilling to pull his hands out of the wrap to check his timepiece. The sun had passed zenith, and he knew from experience that the temperature often dropped considerably at this time of day. He was just stepping toward the door, intending to fetch more appropriate gear for the cold, when a hum filled the air behind him. Quickly turning back, he saw the same strange sparkling effect that had taken Soonan. Two shapes appeared, taking solid form as the sparkles died away. Josen sagged with relief.

“Soonan! You are safe!” he called out, striding toward his leader. Soonan turned to him and smiled.

“Yes, Josen. I see that only you were foolish enough to stand out here and freeze to death waiting for me.” Patting Josen’s back in a gesture of appreciation, he added, “I am grateful for your loyalty.” He indicated the woman standing next to him. “May I introduce the leader of the Humans, Captain Kathryn Janeway.”

Josen bowed to the woman. She was quite small and wore a curious red and black uniform, much different from the bulky coats that the other three Humans had worn. Like them, she had an ugly protuberance where her nose holes should be, but Josen supposed that he should not judge by appearances. “I am pleased to know you, and even more pleased that you have returned our leader to us,” he said. “When Soonan vanished we did not know what to expect.”

Captain Janeway acknowledged his bow with a nod. “I am pleased to know you as well, and impressed by your loyalty to your leader,” she said. Turning to Soonan, she added, “I would enjoy spending more time with you, Soonan, but I have another appointment. I wish you the best of fortune.”

Soonan inclined his head. “I thank you, Captain Janeway,” he said formally, then added his people’s traditional farewell. “May the sun shine upon you, now and always.”

Captain Janeway smiled and touched a gold symbol on her chest. “Janeway to Voyager,” she said. “One to transport.”

Immediately her body was obscured by the humming sparkles, and in moments she was gone. Josen looked at his leader, who appeared to be in remarkably good spirits.

“Come, Josen!” Soonan said genially. “We must go to the monitoring room. From what I understand, there will shortly be some excitement in the Tsian capital, and I want to see it when it happens.”

Josen gladly followed his leader back into their home, only too happy to get out of the cold. He wondered what Soonan was talking about, but then, it was not his place to question. He would find out soon enough.

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 28

 

 

Janeway pressed the control unit in her hand as soon as she materialized, activating the portable force-field generators that had been beamed into place a half-second before her own arrival. She had only a moment to note the sumptuous décor in the large room before its occupant addressed her in imperious tones.

“Captain Janeway! Perhaps in your culture it is acceptable to enter one’s private quarters without permission, but I assure you that in my culture it is not. If you wish to speak with me, there are other ways to arrange a meeting.”

“Good afternoon, T’sin Lessia,” said Janeway, forcing a pleasant tone to her voice. “I apologize for the intrusion, but I don’t have time to arrange a meeting through normal channels. My ship is preparing for departure, and this is my last visit to your planet.”

T’sin Lessia looked startled, her sharp teeth showing through her slightly parted jaws. “You are leaving? But what about your missing people?”

“We’ve located them,” said Janeway. “And I’m pleased to report that all of them are well, despite your best efforts.”

The t’sin’s eyes narrowed. “I do not understand what you mean.”

“I believe you understand me perfectly. We’re quite aware that you personally ordered the attack on my mate and my chief engineer. We know that you ordered your military to use a stolen Santori fighter to carry out the attack, and we know that you hoped this attack would induce us to use our technology to locate the Santori’s underground cities for you.”

“This is preposterous!” T’sin Lessia looked outraged. “I did nothing of the kind, and I am astonished at your behavior. First you break into my private quarters, then you accuse me of a conspiracy and a cover up?” She drew herself up to her considerable full height, forcing Janeway to crane her neck to look up at her. “It is only your unfamiliarity with our laws and our ways that prevents me from killing you where you stand for the insult you have just given me. On my world, Captain, you do not lightly accuse a person of attempted murder. Particularly when that person is the t’sin.” Walking to her desk, the t’sin pressed a button on its surface. “But I will overlook your affront and put it down to your lack of knowledge. My guards will escort you out. Immediately.”

Janeway waited. As several long seconds passed, the t’sin looked alarmed and pressed the button again.

“You needn’t bother,” said Janeway calmly. “I’ve arranged for us to be left alone. I wanted complete privacy for our little discussion. There is a force field surrounding this room, and no one can enter or leave until I turn it off. Really, you should be more careful about betraying people who have far more advanced technology than you.”

The t’sin’s bluster faded considerably at that, and Janeway was fairly sure she could detect actual fear in the alien’s features. It surprised her that she was enjoying this so much—and even more, that she didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it.

“I imagine this is quite a unique experience for you,” she continued. “You have absolutely no control over this situation, and no guards to protect you. And you can’t lie to me, because I know that you ordered the attack on my people. My ship has eyes that you cannot see. Your plan was good, T’sin Lessia, but it did not take our technology into account. We have proof of your guilt, or I wouldn’t be here.” This was a bluff, but she was counting on the t’sin’s fear—and lack of knowledge of Voyager’s capabilities—to prevent her from seeing through it. Nor was she about to give the t’sin any time to think about it. Striding closer, she stared into the alien’s eyes, allowing her white-hot fury to come to the surface. “You’re wrong when you say I'm ignorant of your laws. I know that as the mate of one whom you have tried to kill, I have a legal right to vengeance. And I am here to exercise that right. Are you as prepared to die as you were to kill?”

T’sin Lessia went almost white at this. But she said nothing, standing her ground with her head raised as she waited for Janeway’s next move. Reluctantly, Janeway had to admire the t’sin’s courage. The alien might be full of bluff and bluster, but there was obviously a core of steel in there, as well. Their eyes remained locked as the silence between them grew, but it was the t'sin who broke first.

“Why do you wait?” she hissed.

Janeway stared at her for a few seconds more. “Because,” she said at last, “my own laws forbid me to kill you. I am required to let the Tsian justice system deal with you.” She turned away and moved a few steps back, giving the t’sin her space. “Of course,” she said as she turned back to face the alien, “I realize that means you will likely escape with no punishment at all for your attempted murder. But there's nothing I can do about that.” She allowed her posture to relax ever so slightly, slumping her shoulders a little, knowing that such body language was common to many species across the galaxy. “What I really came here for was to ask you a question before we leave.”

The t’sin’s color had returned, and she spoke in her normal tones. “And what is that?”

“Why?” asked Janeway. “Why would you betray your allies? Why would you risk angering a people who could annihilate you? You knew that we had technology far ahead of yours. It seems very short-sighted of you, and you once told me that what you disliked about males was that they tended to be short-sighted, to not foresee the consequences of their actions. What you have done seems to fall squarely in that category. I’m surprised that you wouldn’t think something like this through.”

Janeway could see that she had stung the t’sin’s pride. Drawing herself up, T’sin Lessia answered her as she would address a student.

“I had thought better of you than that, Captain Janeway. You yourself seemed a very forward-thinking leader. Surely you must realize that I knew exactly what the risks and benefits were, and I chose the short-term risk and the long-term benefit. Our alliance with you would have ended in a matter of days, but our conflict with the Fallons has gone on for generations, and will go on long after you leave. If I could use your technology to enable us to destroy the Fallons at last, then it was certainly worth the risk.” She bared her teeth in an insincere smile. “And you see that I was right. Even though my gamble did not bring the results I’d hoped for, the risk was worthwhile. Your own laws prevent you from taking action against me. I have lost nothing in the effort.”

“Nothing but your honor,” said Janeway. “You betrayed your allies and attempted to murder two innocents, both of whom you knew were very important to me. You have acted completely without honor, and in a culture where honor is held to be of the highest importance, it must be very difficult to know that you have none.”

T’sin Lessia regarded Janeway with a dismissive expression. “You and I both know that a cultural expectation of honor is simply a means of controlling the masses by social law. When the Tsians act according to a set of tenets, their behavior becomes predictable and falls within the guidelines that their leaders set for them. But if we leaders allowed our actions to be controlled by those same tenets, we would restrict ourselves unnecessarily. It would impede our ability to govern. Leaders cannot be held accountable to the same laws that apply to the general populace.”

Janeway shook her head. “Then this is where we part ways in philosophy. Far from being above the law, I believe that leaders have the obligation to set the standard for the people. If anything, we are ruled more by the law than those we lead. If my crew see me upholding the highest standards that I expect from them, they will be motivated to uphold those standards themselves. But if they see me engaging in behavior from which they themselves are restricted, they will soon begin to wonder why I should lead them, or why they should not allow themselves the same behaviors that I allow myself. A leader cannot lead by declaring herself exempt from the very laws she enforces among her people.”

The t’sin seemed almost relaxed now, and her expression was condescending. “But Captain, you are assuming that my world is as small as your ship. Your actions cannot help but be noticed by your people. Mine can. The Tsian people have no idea what I do unless I tell them, and naturally I tell them what I want them to know. Anything else would be political suicide.” She drew her robes about her, smoothing down the fabric, and in the process apparently dismissing the importance of her opponent. When she raised her head again, her expression seemed to indicate surprise that Janeway was still standing there. “This conversation is over. Go on back to your ship with your high ideals and your juvenile expectations. If you are fortunate and live long enough, someday experience may teach you what I have learned. In the meantime, this little episode will have no effect on my life or my government. It was a gamble, but it means nothing now. I have enjoyed your company, Captain Janeway, and I thought it would be a wonderful irony to have one warmblood race find another for me. But now I tire of you and it is time to end this alliance. Go home.”

Janeway did not move. “You’re mistaken when you say that the Tsian people have no idea what you do. They certainly know what you have done this day. I’ve made sure of that.”

The t’sin turned away, displaying her contempt for the human captain by presenting her back. “You can do nothing to me, Captain Janeway. Your illusions of your own power prevent you from seeing clearly. I am the leader of many, but you are the leader of a pitiful few.”

“Even a t’sin is not immune to public opinion,” said Janeway. “And I would imagine that at this moment, public opinion is very much against you.” She glanced at a console in the corner of the room. “I see that you have a video broadcast unit in this chamber. You might wish to activate it.”

The t’sin looked back at Janeway. “Why?”

“Because you’re on it right now, telling your people that not only have you committed attempted murder, but you also consider yourself above Tsian law.”

The t’sin bared her teeth, but this time it wasn’t a smile. “You lie.”

“And you judge me by what you would do in my place. You may lie, but I do not.”

Something in the captain’s bearing must have unsettled her, because the t’sin moved to the video unit and turned it on, gasping to see herself on the unit. The video feed was live. She turned to Janeway, her face a mask of anger. “What have you done?”

“Nothing but allow your people to see for themselves,” said Janeway. She smiled. “As I said, you really should be more careful about betraying people who have more advanced technology than you. I’ve recorded this entire conversation, and my ship has broadcast it to your world. Every channel, every frequency. You can’t tell the Tsians what you want them to know, because you have already told them what they should know:  the truth. Even now your people are wondering why you would expect them to act with honor when you do not.”

Silence filled the room as the two women stared at each other, the air between them almost sizzling with their mutual dislike. Suddenly the t’sin flashed into brilliant color, and in a rapid blur of movement she pulled a weapon from a drawer and fired at Janeway.

The color flash had given Janeway a half-second of warning, and many hours in the holodeck playing Velocity with Seven and Lynne had honed her reflexes. She dove away, rolled and came up in a crouch with her phaser out, her shot knocking the weapon out of the t’sin’s hand. Rising to her feet again, she held the phaser on her furious opponent. Shaking her head, she said, “You continue to surprise me. On a planetwide broadcast you’ve now upped your attempted murder count to three. I fail to see how your people will allow you to continue as their leader after this. Perhaps you should reconsider your philosophy on honor.” She leaned toward T’sin Lessia and lowered her voice to a near-whisper. “Do you know what the best thing is about upholding your own laws? It doesn’t matter if the whole world knows what you’ve done.”

She straightened as the t’sin went completely pale. Shouts could be heard in the hallway outside the rooms, the sound growing louder by the second. The t’sin looked nervously toward the door, and Janeway thought she looked a great deal smaller now than she had seemed before.

“That would be your ministers, I believe,” she said. “They’re probably wanting your instructions on how to deal with the political fallout from this broadcast. I don’t wish to delay your response, T’sin Lessia, so I’ll be leaving now.” She paused. “Oh, and by the way—I certainly hope that your successor will see more clearly than you regarding the conflict with the Santori. They are a good and honorable people, and you have wasted a considerable amount of the Empire’s resources trying to destroy them. Think of the money and lives your government could save if you made peace with them instead. But that’s a job for someone who truly thinks in the long term, and obviously that isn’t you.” She tapped her comm badge. “Voyager, one to beam out.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway stood in her ready room, watching the Tsian planet drop away as Voyager turned about. Then the stars changed from points of light to moving streaks as the ship went to warp, resuming its long journey home. She allowed herself a sigh of relief. It had been a long couple of days, but everyone she cared about was safe, and they were on their way once more. She wished she could find out the results of her broadcast, but there was no reason to order a delay. It was time to go.

Walking to the lower level and seating herself behind her desk, she rested her forehead on the heels of her hands. Her actions this day could be couched in the best of terms and presented in the light of promoting peace—and her mission log would certainly reflect that—but she knew that it all came down to a personal agenda. She hadn’t lied when she’d told the t’sin that she was there to exercise her right to vengeance. In reality, she should have left orbit as soon as her missing crewmembers were on board, but she’d been so furious at the attack on Lynne and B’Elanna that she had allowed her anger to cloud her judgment. She wasn’t proud of herself at this particular moment. Certainly she hadn’t upheld her Starfleet ideals to the best of her ability.

The memory of T’sin Lessia’s expression as she realized that her words had been broadcast to the world flashed across Janeway’s mind. Dropping her hands, she raised her head once more and smiled. She might not be proud of herself, but for some reason she didn’t want to examine too closely, she felt…good.

Her smile vanished when her terminal beeped, reminding her of an appointment. She looked at her chronometer and decided that she had just enough time to get some much-needed coffee into her system before facing the final task associated with this whole sorry mess.

Fifteen minutes and one very strong cup of coffee later, she was back behind her desk when her door chimed. “Come,” she said.

The door slid open, admitting Seven and Lynne. The two women walked to Janeway’s desk and stood stiffly. Of course, Seven always stood stiffly, even in her usual military “parade rest” position, but Lynne’s rigid posture was unusual. She met Janeway’s gaze unflinchingly, while Seven stared at the wall somewhere above her head.

Janeway leaned back in her chair and looked up at them. Their height alone made them a formidable-looking pair, she thought. Add in Seven’s arrogant expression, and Lynne’s rakish look with her arm in the sling, and these two presented a team that most people would probably rather not tangle with.

But she wasn’t most people.

“Seven of Nine and Lynne Hamilton,” said Janeway formally, “you have violated the orders of the captain of this ship, left the ship without permission, sabotaged the ship’s computer, and conducted an away mission without authorization. Do you deny these charges?”

“No, Captain,” said both women simultaneously.

“I see.” Janeway darted a glance at her empty coffee mug and wished she’d thought to refill it. “Before I pronounce your sentences, I want you to know—you did the right thing.”

Lynne looked startled, and Seven shifted her gaze from the wall to Janeway’s eyes, a faint expression of surprise in her face as well.

“But you did it the wrong way,” continued Janeway. She rose from her chair and paced behind the two women, stopping just in front of Seven’s shoulder. “Everyone on Voyager owes you a debt. I am also grateful to you, and proud of you for risking your own lives to save another. However, the way you went about it puts me in a very bad position. If I discipline you, it will appear as if I’m punishing you for saving B’Elanna’s life. And if I don’t discipline you, it will appear as if I’m letting you off the hook because the ends justified the means. But just for the record, ladies—in my book, the ends rarely justify the means. Particularly when those means involve violating my orders. No matter how beneficial the outcome, I simply cannot overlook such a transgression.”

She moved from Seven’s shoulder to a position in front of the two women, staring directly into Lynne’s eyes. “Lynne Hamilton, as a passenger on Voyager, you cannot be disciplined under Starfleet jurisdiction. However, as the captain, I have the authority to restrict your movements if I believe that you are a danger to the ship. Since you have prevented this ship from a free and clear response to danger by leaving it without permission, as well as inciting a crewmember to disobey my orders and commit computer sabotage, I consider you to be a danger. I am therefore confining you to quarters for a period of seven days.”

Lynne showed no reaction to Janeway’s words, watching her with eyes that held no expression indicative of their relationship. It was appropriate, Janeway thought, but that didn’t make her feel any better. She shifted her gaze to Seven.

“Seven of Nine, because you are a department head on this ship, I hold you to a higher standard and expect better behavior. You were fully aware of the consequences when you chose this course of action. Your position places you under the guidelines of Starfleet discipline, and I am therefore sentencing you to seven days confinement in the brig.”

She took one step back, looking at both women. “Your sentences have been noted in the ship’s logs and take effect immediately.”

“Wait a minute!” Lynne burst out, her stiff expression giving way to outrage. “You can’t punish Seven more than me! It wasn’t even her idea—I talked her into getting me off the ship!”

“Whether or not it was her idea has no bearing on this situation,” said Janeway quietly. “I am not punishing Seven for her ideas or her motives. I’m punishing her for her actions.”

“But she acted to save B’Elanna’s life, and to protect me from danger. Kath—Captain, this isn’t right. Leave Seven out of this and let me take the blame. I’m the one who’s responsible.”

“That would be easier for you, wouldn’t it?” asked Janeway. “I suspect that the worst part of your punishment is knowing that your actions have caused hardship for Seven. Perhaps you’ll keep that in mind the next time you consider approaching a member of my crew and inciting them to disobey orders. Seven’s sentence stands.”

“Captain, please! At least reduce her sentence to confinement to quarters.”

Janeway shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not any happier to pronounce this sentence than you are to hear it, but Starfleet sentencing guidelines are very clear. I’m already giving her the minimum punishment.” She noticed that Seven had been staring straight ahead during this discussion, refusing to take part. At least she knows I have no choice.

Lynne opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again as she changed her mind. Drawing herself up to her full height, she said, “I refuse to accept a lesser punishment than Seven. If you’re going to throw her in the brig, then you’re going to have to put me in there too.”

Janeway looked at her sharply, and saw a flicker of something in Lynne’s eyes. A wave of anger rushed over her as she recognized the expression:  Lynne was bluffing. She was betting Janeway wouldn’t throw her own partner in the brig, and was using that leverage in an attempt to reduce Seven’s sentence. She couldn’t believe that Lynne would take advantage of their relationship in that way, and felt a crushing disappointment in her partner that was far worse than the anger.

“All right,” she said in an icy tone. “I agree to your terms.” She tapped her comm badge and called Tuvok into the ready room. When the security chief appeared a moment later, she spoke to him without breaking eye contact with Lynne.

“Tuvok, please escort Seven of Nine and Lynne Hamilton to the brig, where they will serve a sentence of seven days.” She saw Lynne’s eyes widen, then narrow again.

“Yes, Captain,” said Tuvok. He motioned Seven and Lynne to walk in front of him. Lynne favored Janeway with a look of pure contempt before turning and walking out of the ready room. Seven showed no emotion, merely nodding at the captain as she withdrew.

When the door closed, Janeway allowed herself to lean back against her desk. She was shaking with rage, and felt shattered at the realization that Lynne’s ethics were so very different from her own.

Oh god, she thought. I don’t know if I can get over this one. Over the rush of emotions roaring through her mind, a little voice made itself heard.

If you can’t get over it—what will you do?

She didn’t have an answer.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 29

 

 

For the first two days of Seven and Lynne’s incarceration, Janeway stalked around like a tiger with a thorn in its paw. She knew the crew was giving her a wide berth, and that irritated her even more. She was so angry with Lynne that she could hardly see straight, and it seemed completely unfair that her crew was avoiding her, obviously siding with Lynne and Seven. Once again her captaincy had set her apart, forcing her to stand alone when she needed support the most. She thought bitterly that it was no wonder she had found so much strength within herself on this journey. Every time she needed someone to lean on, just for a moment, she ended up alone. Time and again she found no one to rely on but herself. It was better this way, she thought—better not to need, not to trust. If she didn’t trust anyone to be there for her, then nobody could let her down.

On the third day she woke up feeling melancholy. She realized that it had been over a week since she and Lynne had spent a night together, and she missed her partner tremendously. God, how she wanted Lynne there to hold her. She would have given anything to hear that laugh, so distinct that she’d recognize it in a crowd of hundreds. But her quarters were empty, and would be for a long time, because Lynne had crossed the line. She felt the familiar flash of anger, and pulled its threads around her like a comforting blanket, protecting her from the unwanted sorrow.

Her day was spent going through departmental reports, with nothing to distract her except one brief visit from Chakotay. He tried to address the issue of Seven and Lynne, but managed only to increase her irritation. After she snapped at him, he withdrew, leaving her alone. As usual, she thought.

On the fourth day, Janeway’s anger had burned itself out and she was left with nothing but depression. Her partner hated her, her crew hated her, and she wasn’t too thrilled with herself. But she’d only done what she’d had to do. Why didn’t anyone understand that?

It was difficult to force herself out of bed and into the shower. She pulled her uniform on, fastening it with listless fingers, and walked to the bridge with a weary step. It was going to be a very long shift. She retired to her ready room as soon as possible and spent most of her day on the upper level, sipping coffee and watching the stars streak by. She supposed she should feel guilty about not getting any work done, but her mind just wasn’t focusing. It would probably help if she could get a decent night’s sleep, but that hadn’t happened in awhile.

Late that morning the Doctor contacted her, telling her that B’Elanna was awake and ready to leave sickbay after a few more hours of observation. It was the highlight of Janeway’s week. She requested that B’Elanna come to the ready room after being released, and spent the next several hours looking forward to the visit. It was about time she saw a friendly face.

When her door chimed that afternoon, Janeway felt an unreasonable jolt of happiness as she called for her guest to enter. “B’Elanna,” she exclaimed warmly, walking around the desk to meet her friend and officer. She enfolded the surprised Klingon in a hug. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you up and about. We’ve all been so worried for you.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said B’Elanna. “It’s nice to be out of sickbay. I can’t believe I was in there for four days. All I can say is, it’s a good thing I was unconscious for most of it.” She followed Janeway to the upper level.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” asked Janeway, as she replicated a cup of coffee for herself.

“No, thanks. My stomach is a little edgy yet.” She sat on the opposite end of the couch from Janeway. “I went over the mission logs while waiting for the Doctor to release me. Looks like I slept through a lot of excitement.”

“You could call it that. Personally, I could live without that kind of excitement for awhile—having three of my people vanish without a trace tends to make me a bit tense. I’m just glad everything worked out.”

“Well, it worked out for us, anyway. I doubt things went so well for T’sin Lessia. By the way, Captain, I watched that recording. That was truly inspired—the t’sin is probably still wondering what hit her. Remind me never to piss you off.” B’Elanna grinned.

“Thank you,” said Janeway, smiling for what seemed like the first time in ages. “You know, it’s entirely possible she found some way to wiggle out of it. She was an accomplished politician, and may very well have managed enough damage control to keep herself in office. But even if she did, she’ll have to watch herself much more carefully after this. If the broadcast accomplished only that, it would still have been worthwhile.”

“I guess,” said B’Elanna, looking unconvinced. “Seems to me you could have made it very worthwhile. If it had been me, I probably would have taken my phaser shot a little differently. She tried to kill you, Captain. And she’d tried to kill Lynne and me before that. You had every right to take her out in self-defense.”

“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind,” said Janeway calmly. She was amused by the shocked expression on B’Elanna’s face. “That doesn’t need to leave this room,” she added.

“Of course not. I just didn’t expect you to say that.”

“I have no problem admitting that I felt the same way anyone else would in my place. It’s my actions that I’m more concerned about. Those are what Starfleet will judge me by, not my thoughts.”

B’Elanna nodded. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand about this whole episode,” she said.

“What’s that?” Janeway sipped her drink.

“Why are Lynne and Seven in the brig? They saved my life, and although their methods were somewhat unorthodox, I wouldn’t expect anything less of them, and I don’t think you would, either. Seven has certainly found her way around the chain of command before, and you haven’t punished her like this since her first few months here. And Lynne doesn’t even really understand the chain of command yet. Captain, I know you’re a stickler for the rules, but isn’t this a little harsh?”

Janeway abruptly put her coffee down and finished swallowing the mouthful that had suddenly turned bitter. She looked at B’Elanna, waiting for the expected surge of anger at being questioned in her methods. But it didn’t materialize, and she was left with nothing but her fatigue and depression—and an instant headache. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “B’Elanna, if you’d asked me that yesterday, I probably would have taken your head off. But today I’m just too tired.”

Her chief engineer looked very concerned. “Okay, now I’m worried. You never admit that. What’s going on?”

Janeway was horrified to feel tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She could withstand censure and judgment, but B’Elanna’s concern cut right through her. Rising from the couch, she turned toward the viewports to give herself time to recover. It was completely unacceptable for her to show that kind of emotion in front of a crewmember.

“Captain?” B’Elanna hadn’t left the couch, but her voice was alarmed. “Are you all right?”

Reining in her emotions and slamming her command mask down, Janeway turned back. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just been a long week.”

B’Elanna looked doubtful, but didn’t push it. “Okay. So why the harsh sentence?”

Janeway summoned up a glare, but it was a pale shadow of her normal Glare O’ Death, as Lynne called it. “You do realize that I have absolutely no reason to explain myself to you.”

“Yes,” said B’Elanna, waiting expectantly. The glare had apparently bounced right off her. When Janeway said nothing, B’Elanna looked away for a moment before meeting Janeway’s eyes again.

“Captain,” she said, “I know I’m way out of line asking you about this. But Lynne and Seven are in the brig because of me. It’s my life they’re being punished for saving, and I feel responsible. I just don’t understand why you’ve come down on them so hard.”

Janeway sighed. She had no reserves at the moment, and besides, she wanted someone to understand. She was so tired of standing alone.

“The sentence isn’t harsh, B’Elanna. Given the various offenses, which neither Seven nor Lynne contested, seven days incarceration is the minimum sentence under Starfleet disciplinary guidelines. I could easily have given them thirty days, but I didn’t because of the circumstances of their actions and the motivations behind them. And since it would have been unfair to punish Seven but not Lynne, I gave Lynne the same seven days despite her civilian status. However, I only sentenced her to confinement to quarters. Going to the brig was her choice.”

B’Elanna waved this aside. “I know they got the minimum Starfleet sentence, Captain. What I don’t get is why you used Starfleet disciplinary guidelines at all. You’ve been known to bypass them at your discretion. When Chakotay disobeyed your orders and went after Seska, he did everything Seven and Lynne did, in addition to stealing a shuttle and putting this whole crew in danger. Yet you let him off with a slap on the hand. Why be so much harder on Seven and Lynne?”

Janeway remembered the incident. It was just over a year after their stranding, and the joining of her Maquis and Starfleet crews had still been somewhat tenuous. Throwing Chakotay, former captain of the Maquis, into the brig at that time would have been disastrous—she might have ended up with a mutiny on her hands. So she’d chosen an alternative course of action, which had turned out to be just as effective. She’d crushed Chakotay by telling him that she was disappointed in him, and had put him on report. She could still see the look of pain on his face.

“B’Elanna, you’re treading on thin ice,” she said in a voice just this side of a growl. “You have no idea what Chakotay’s punishment was.”

“No,” conceded B’Elanna, “but I know you didn’t put him in the brig. I’m just wondering if maybe you were so concerned about appearing to show favoritism for Lynne that you went to the other extreme instead.”

Janeway paused. Was that what she’d done? Could she have been so blind to her own motivations? She examined this thought from all angles, and concluded that there was a distinct possibility that B’Elanna was right.

“It’s true that I have to be very careful about the slightest appearance of favoritism,” she said. “And maybe that did play a role in my decision. But it was important that Lynne understand the consequences of her actions. She defied my authority, B’Elanna, and I simply cannot let that stand. No captain could. She has to learn that she can’t just go off on her own when she doesn’t agree with my decision.” And she has to learn that she can’t use our relationship as a bargaining chip, she thought sadly.

“What was her alternative?” asked B’Elanna in a carefully mild voice.

This brought Janeway up short. She looked at her chief engineer skeptically. “Her alternative was not to leave the ship, obviously. To trust that others could take care of the situation.”

“But was it really? Think about it from her point of view. She honestly believed that she could locate me when nobody else could. And as we now know, she was right. She asked you for permission to join the search, and you refused. That left her with only two options: obey your orders and, to her mind, condemn me to certain death if I was still alive—or disobey your orders, find me and pay the personal price later. She knew you were going to be angry, Captain. She even thought your relationship might not recover from it. But she didn’t feel that she could just stand by and let me die without doing everything possible to prevent it. Lynne understood the consequences very well, and she made the only choice she could under the circumstances. If you had been in her shoes, would you have chosen differently? Would you have let me die if you honestly thought you could save me?”

Janeway stared at B’Elanna, rocked to her core. She’d been so angry at Lynne’s willful disregard of her authority that it hadn’t occurred to her to consider it from her partner’s side. It was true—her own refusal of Lynne’s request had put her partner in an intolerable position. And if she’d been in Lynne’s shoes, she knew she would have made the same choice. They’d both done what had to be done, and now they were both paying the price. Then a thought struck her, and she looked at B’Elanna suspiciously.

“You seem to have a great deal of insight into what Lynne was thinking. How do you know all this?”

“Because I stopped by the brig before coming here. Captain, permission to speak frankly?”

Janeway nearly snorted. “What, you haven’t been already?” B’Elanna only looked at her, and she finally nodded. “Permission granted.”

B’Elanna leaned forward. “You look like hell. And so does Lynne. This is tearing both of you apart, and I think you really need to talk to each other.”

Janeway sat down on the couch and closed her eyes briefly as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her headache was getting worse.

“I’d love to talk to Lynne about it,” she said at last. “Unfortunately, at our last meeting she made it quite clear that she held me in the lowest contempt.”

It was more than she meant to say—normally she would never have allowed this conversation to take such a personal turn. But after four days of complete isolation, B’Elanna’s unexpected sympathy had knocked down her defenses as if they weren’t even there.

“That’s not true,” said B’Elanna. “I mean, she was pretty furious about the whole thing, but she’s had time to cool down now. And Seven’s been working on her with that Borg logic. Nobody’s emotional reactions can stand up to Seven when she starts dissecting motivations and reasoning. She’s even worse than Tuvok.”

Janeway found herself actually smiling at the thought. B’Elanna caught it and smiled back. “Captain, you and Lynne have something truly special. I mean it. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, but maybe that’s because I’ve never seen two people so equally matched in intellect and sheer will. When you two disagree, it’s bound to be spectacular. But don’t let it damage what you have together. You’ve got to talk to her. She loves you, you know. And right now she’s afraid your relationship might be the price she’ll have to pay for my life. And I gotta tell you, Captain, I don’t want that on my conscience.”

Janeway blinked back the tears that had made another mutinous foray to her eyes. She thought about approaching Lynne in the brig, then realized that even if she dismissed the guard, Seven would still be there as witness. No, that was not going to happen. She knew that any discussion between Lynne and herself was likely to result in either more fireworks, an emotional breakdown on her part, or both. And there was no chance that she would risk such a thing in front of anyone else on this ship.

Reaching out for B’Elanna’s hand, she gave it a brief, gentle squeeze. “Thank you for coming here and talking to me about this. It took a lot of guts to beard the tigress in her den.”

B’Elanna dipped her head somewhat self-consciously. “Well, someone had to do it. And since I just got all my guts sewn back together, I figured I was a good candidate. You know, Voyager just runs better when her captain is happy. And when you’re not happy, I swear, even the engine efficiency goes down.” She looked at Janeway questioningly. “So you’re going to talk to her, right?”

“Yes, but not until she’s out of the brig.” Janeway held a hand up to forestall B’Elanna’s protest. “When Lynne and I have this conversation, it’s not going to be in a brig and we’re not going to have any company. Which means it will have to wait.” Her voice grew gentler. “But I would appreciate it very much if you would take her a message.”

“I’d be happy to.”

There was so much Janeway wanted to say, but nothing seemed appropriate for delivery by messenger. In the end she settled for something much less than she wanted, hoping that Lynne would be able to read between the lines.

“Tell her I miss her.”

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 30

 

 

The next three days crawled by on thrusters. Janeway’s mood had improved dramatically after her conversation with B’Elanna, but she still wasn’t getting enough sleep, and she counted the hours until she could feel Lynne’s arms around her once more. Then she could lay aside the captain part of her and just be Kathryn once again, a comfort that she missed tremendously. Of course, this was assuming that Lynne would even want to hold her again, and that was by no means guaranteed. The glad certainty she’d felt immediately after her talk with B’Elanna had soon wilted under the weight of her continued isolation. Without the confirmation she so desperately needed from Lynne, her own doubts and worries nearly overpowered her hope.

The days were so long that there were times when she wasn’t sure she’d make it. During those low moments she felt that she was serving a much harsher sentence than Lynne, who at least had Seven for company—and B’Elanna as well. The chief engineer had been spending her lunch hours and evenings at the brig, keeping the two women company until their sentence had been completed. Janeway was still a little astonished by this development. Who would ever have guessed B’Elanna would voluntarily spend hours at a stretch in Seven of Nine’s company? Normally even a few minutes was sufficient to push her into a homicidal frame of mind. She foresaw only two possibilities when this was over:  Seven and B’Elanna would abandon their previous tolerance and openly despise each other, or they’d finally develop some mutual respect. She hoped it would be the latter; then at least something good would come out of this whole mess.

Ironically, the one thing that fueled her through these last interminable days was not hope, but the renewal of her belief in Lynne’s ethics. Even if they couldn’t get past this test of their relationship, at least she knew that Lynne was still the honorable person she’d believed her to be. B’Elanna’s words continued to echo in her mind, giving her a whole new perspective on the situation. She even thought your relationship might not recover from it…right now she’s afraid your relationship might be the price she’ll have to pay for my life.

She saw Lynne’s actions from a different angle now. Yes, she’d defied Janeway’s orders, but she hadn’t done it lightly. She’d known from the outset that the price might be very high, but she’d been willing to pay it to do what she felt was right. Far from being angry, Janeway now felt proud of Lynne for upholding her ethics, even in the face of her lover’s wrath. And when she thought about the scene with Lynne in her ready room, she realized that she’d misread Lynne’s expression. Her partner hadn’t been bluffing—if she’d believed that her actions had already destroyed their relationship, then she would have had nothing to bluff with.

But every time Janeway thought hopefully of their reunion at the end of Lynne’s incarceration, she remembered that final look of contempt Lynne had given her. Nothing B’Elanna had said could overcome the power of that memory. That look wasn’t because of Lynne’s own punishment—she’d been furious at Janeway for punishing Seven as well. And if Lynne still felt that way, well, they’d never get past it. Because Janeway could no more apologize for doing the right thing than Lynne could.

 

 

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At 1635 on the seventh day, Janeway logged off her terminal. She’d put in enough extra time these last few days to make up for taking a half hour off, and she was not about to be even five seconds late for her final duty of this day. Turning the bridge over to Chakotay and feeling ridiculously nervous, she made her way to the brig, greeted the security guard on duty and stepped in front of the single occupied cell.

Both Lynne and Seven were standing in the center of the cell, waiting. Janeway realized that Seven’s internal chronometer would have informed her of the exact second that their sentence had been served. It was a good thing she’d arrived on time.

As her eyes met Lynne’s, she felt a familiar jolt of electricity run down her spine. She could read nothing in Lynne’s expression, and the butterflies in her stomach seemed to double in number.

She deactivated the force field and spoke in formal tones. “Seven of Nine and Lynne Hamilton, your sentences have been served in full. You are free to go. And may I add that I sincerely hope to never see you in here again.”

“Amen to that,” muttered Lynne, stepping forward. Janeway stopped her.

“Lynne,” she said quietly, “will you accompany me, please?”

Lynne searched her face, then turned to Seven. “I’ll see you later, Seven. Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” said Seven as she stepped past the two women. Pausing, she added enigmatically, “You will remember?”

“Yes,” said Lynne in tones of exasperation, but she smiled at her friend. “It’s not like I could forget even if I wanted to. You’ve been drilling me for seven days.”

“Only because that was the length of time required to overcome your stubbornness,” said Seven. “You would give even the Borg Collective pause.” She nodded at Janeway, then turned and left the brig.

Lynne looked down at Janeway, all trace of the smile gone from her face. “Where did you want to go?”

“To my quarters, if you don’t mind,” said Janeway.

Lynne paused, then nodded once. “All right.”

Janeway led the way out of the brig and down the corridor, acutely conscious of Lynne at her side. All of their easy camaraderie, their comfort in being together, had vanished as if it had never been. In its place was a sharp-edged awareness of how different Lynne’s physical presence felt when not accompanied by their emotional connection.

They rode in the turbolift without saying a word, both staring straight ahead at the closed doors. A stiff and formal distance yawned between them, and Janeway wondered if she would ever again see Lynne smile at her the way she just had at Seven. The suspense of not knowing where they stood was about to kill her, and Lynne was giving nothing away.

The turbolift opened on deck three, and in a few more steps they were in front of Janeway’s quarters. She motioned Lynne through and entered after her, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders as the door hissed shut behind them. At last she’d made it to this moment—just her and Lynne, off duty, out of the brig and in the privacy of her own rooms. She turned to Lynne, suddenly realizing that there was something she needed far more than a discussion.

“Kathryn, we have to—” Lynne began, but stopped when Janeway held up a hand. Her expression grew bewildered as Janeway modified her gesture, bringing a finger to her lips.

Janeway stepped close to Lynne and looked up into her eyes, searching them for confirmation that her life could, after all, go on with any semblance of happiness.

“Let’s not talk,” she said quietly. “Not yet. Just for tonight, let’s practice some of Seven’s non-verbal communication.” She slipped her arms around Lynne’s waist and rested her head on her partner’s shoulder.

For a few agonizing seconds Lynne’s body was stiff, and Janeway thought with a sinking heart that she really had lost everything. But then she felt Lynne’s arms go around her, holding her tightly, and she sagged against her partner with a relief so profound that it made her legs weak. She raised her head and saw at last what she’d been looking for, a familiar softness in Lynne’s eyes that hadn’t been there moments before. Then Lynne lowered her head and covered Janeway’s lips with a kiss so gentle that it seemed she was afraid of breaking something fragile. Janeway understood, returning the kiss with the same care. She pulled away and nudged her lover’s chin up, kissing her way up and back down the slender throat and delivering a delicate bite near Lynne’s shoulder.

Lynne put her hands on Janeway’s upper arms and gently pushed her away, looking intently into her eyes. Janeway stood quietly as her tunic was unzipped and her shirt pulled out, then closed her eyes as warm hands slid around her waist. Then Lynne began kissing Janeway’s throat and jaw as she caressed her back, running light fingers up and down Janeway’s spine.

Janeway shivered at the touch—Lynne knew that her spine was one of her sensitive areas—and arched her head back. After delicious moments of this, she felt Lynne pull her hands out from under the shirt and cup her face instead, holding her in place for a deep kiss. When they broke apart, Janeway reached up to undo Lynne’s braid, raking her fingers through the thick hair and delighting in the sensation. She loved how the French braid looked on Lynne, but she loved taking it down even more.

They traded caresses for what seemed like hours, unhurried, knowing they had all the time in the world. Their touches were gentle and loving, as if trying to make up for all of the anger that had stood between them. Janeway had rarely felt so content as she basked in the love that flowed from Lynne’s fingers and lips. Who knew we were so good at non-verbal communication? she thought, and smiled to herself. Lynne saw it, raising her eyebrow and opening her mouth to ask the question. But Janeway put a finger to Lynne’s lips, reminding her of their agreement. Lynne promptly kissed the finger, then grasped her wrist, pulled it up and kissed the pulse point, all the while staring at Janeway with eyes that were as dark green as Janeway had ever seen them.

The emotions that swirled around them were almost palpable as each of them strove to show their love through touch and look alone. Somehow, Janeway thought, the inability to speak was intensifying their awareness of each other. Every gesture, every expression was meaningful, and nothing went unnoticed.

At last Lynne’s hands stilled for a moment, and she looked from Janeway to the bedroom and back again. Janeway nodded, slipping her hand into Lynne’s, and they walked through the doorway to stand at the foot of the bed. Lynne put her hands on Janeway’s shoulders and pressed down gently, nudging Janeway to a sitting position. Then she knelt to remove Janeway’s boots and socks, capturing the bare feet in her hands and massaging them. Janeway let her head fall back as she lost herself in the pleasure of this simple caress. Was there anything better in this universe than a foot massage from a lover? Then her head snapped upright as she felt fingernails being lightly dragged up her ankles. Janeway narrowed her eyes and squirmed—that was one of her ticklish spots. Lynne’s eyes danced as she watched Janeway’s reaction.

Quickly pulling her feet away, Janeway hooked them around Lynne’s back and crossed them at the ankles, leaning back on her elbows and using the leverage to force Lynne forward. Lynne resisted and Janeway put a little more muscle into it, only to find herself flat on her back when Lynne suddenly reversed direction. Taking advantage of the moment, Lynne broke Janeway’s hold and stood up again, moving out of reach. Without taking her eyes off her partner’s face, she began to slowly peel off her clothing. Janeway watched with a dry mouth as Lynne gradually revealed herself, and when her lover at last stood naked, Janeway thought that her non-verbal communication skills might just have reached their limit. How could she tell Lynne how exquisite she was without words?

Rising from the bed, Janeway stood in front of Lynne but did not touch her. Deliberately, she raked her eyes from Lynne’s feet to her face, taking a long time to make the journey. By the time she finished, she knew the message had gotten across. Lynne was actually blushing slightly, but her eyes held an expression of joy that Janeway hadn’t seen since the night of the Tsian banquet.

Janeway removed her own clothes in a fraction of the time Lynne had taken, then reached for her lover and pressed their bodies together in a crushing embrace. Relaxing her hold slightly, she pulled Lynne with her as she moved backwards, allowing them both to fall on the bed. Their caresses escalated, both women knowing exactly which buttons to push and how to push them. Experience had made them very skilled at bringing pleasure to each other, and the last several days had given them considerable motivation.

Janeway had no idea what time it was when she finally caught her breath and felt Lynne curl up behind her, wrapping a possessive arm around her chest. Her throat felt a little raw, and she was certain that her body was quite incapable of any further exertion. Her last thought before falling asleep was that Seven’s theory had been exactly backwards. Copulation did not necessarily produce non-verbal communication techniques—but good non-verbal communication could definitely lead to some of the best lovemaking she’d ever experienced.

 

 

 

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