SUMMON THE WISH: Epilog to "Hunters"
By Jennifer Ferris
Comments and criticism to kevas@aol.com
Disclaimer: Most of the characters are created by Paramount. Apparently they don't mind sharing, as long as we give them back. Feel free to archive, but please keep my disclaimer and name attached.
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The party was one of Neelix's finer moments. Almost everyone had a good time. 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow'-well, no need to finish that quote, Chakotay thought. At least people seemed willing to eat, drink, and be merry. If there was an underlying desperation, a worry that wasn't quite hidden, well, that was natural too.
B'Elanna made an appearance at the party. She'd tried. But after a half hour, listening to Susan Nicoletti alternately laughing and crying over the letter she'd gotten from her lover, B'Elanna had thrust up out of her seat on the floor, face twisted in a grimace, and gone flying from the holodeck. Tom went after her. That was hours ago, now.
The party had started out with food, and laughter, and as much coffee as wine. But it kept on through the end of alpha shift, and the feelings were changing. Chakotay had had about as much as he could take. The coffee was replaced with synthehol, and synthehol with real alcohol, for those who had rations enough. Straight hootch from the still he wasn't supposed to know about, for those who were too poor this week to buy distilled whiskey.
Chakotay wasn't drinking. He didn't, usually. But tonight he couldn't afford to. Tonight he couldn't afford to let his barriers down. Death was pounding at him from the other side of those carefully-maintained walls. The death of so many. He'd tried to comfort B'Elanna earlier, and Ayala, and Devynn, and those others who were willing to listen. His bad news had spread faster than one of Neelix's rumors. Everyone knew of the deaths.
Of Roberto...sad, wonderful Roberto, who had had such a crush on B'Elanna, though he tried hard to hide it behind jokes... little Danny, who had suffered at the hands of the Cardassians and grown to a be fine man, strong, determined, wise beyond his years. Cerele Kimmin, who had been raped for an afternoon's sport and who swore she would take fifty Cardassians for every one who'd violated her.
So many more. Men and women and children, who'd had their homes, their farms, their lives taken away by the invaders. All dead. All dead.
I cannot bear this, Chakotay thought distantly. He raised his eyes to the stars in his night-dark cabin. I've done my duty today. I've told everyone. I've done my job. I have no more, tonight. He raised his eyes, and prayed, though he couldn't have said to whom. His gods were not all-powerful, omnipotent beings who could change what had been with the blink of an eye, but merely the spirits of his ancestors, mourning this loss with him. He felt buffeted by them, buoyed by them, but their comfort was distant tonight.
I should seek out my Sister. She will run with me and celebrate their lives with me and mourn with me. But he didn't move for his medicine bundle. Later, perhaps. When he had the strength. When he could summon the wish to hope, again. She could help. But now, he was hollow.
He sat there, in the quiet of his quarters, deep into the night.
The bridge the next day was strange. There was such a mixture of hope, and fear, and excitement in the air: even Tuvok responded to it, his manner more abrupt than usual, his face preoccupied. Tom was joking, as if he was determined he would raise the spirits of the bridge crew if it took all day. Harry was quiet, a smile often on his face, distracted from his duty often enough that Chakotay finally went over to him and put his hand on the young ensign's shoulder. "Harry."
"Oh-Commander. I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said."
"I noticed." Chakotay caught Kim's eye and shook his head, smiling a little. He didn't have to say anything else.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'll-straighten up."
"Okay."
Harry flushed, shrugging. "It's just...I'm a little...."
"I know. But-not here, all right?"
And Harry nodded, not needing anything more to be said. Chakotay squeezed his shoulder and headed up to the ready room.
Kathryn was seated at her desk, but her posture was relaxed, her head resting against the top of the chair. Her smile, like everyone else's, was a little distracted. "Hi."
He studied her for a tiny moment. "You all right?"
She shrugged, not lifting her head. "I'm fine. Just...reminiscing a little, I guess." Self-consciously, she straightened. "Was there something?"
"No, no. We've got the sensors on maximum, Tuvok is making continuous scans, so far everything is quiet. I just thought, while I had the chance..." Before something else happens, he was saying, and she knew it, "I thought I'd make my rounds."
Janeway nodded. Chakotay did this almost every day, took a part of each duty shift and wandered the ship, stopping in to visit each department as often as he could, sounding people out...taking the pulse of the crew. It was as important as any part of his job, and they both knew it. Sometimes the guy who drops into the lab hears a lot more, even if he's a superior officer, than the lofty captain on the bridge.
"That's fine. Tuvok'll let us know the instant anything shows up."
Chakotay nodded, and turned to go. She stopped him. "We haven't really had a chance to talk. Not last night at the party," she smiled. She'd stayed through almost the whole thing, happy for those people who'd had a letter, commiserating with those who hadn't. "Maybe you could drop by my quarters later."
"Fine. After the late briefing, then."
"Good." She assumed her captain's demeanor again. "Let me know if there's anything-"
"I will." He left quickly, before her inquisitive look returned.
Their regular briefing at the end of their shift was shared this time with Tuvok, B'Elanna, and Harry Kim. No one had anything to report. Yet everyone had the same feeling: that the other shoe was about to drop. Kathryn's words were a warning. "We can't afford to stay this tense and uncertain. People can't keep it up. B'Elanna, how are your updates coming? And Harry...if you still have to fine-tune your sensors..."
She nodded at Torres first. The Klingon woman was on firm ground here. None of her uncertainty, or grief, showed in her voice. "I've been running systems checks all day, Captain. We're fully up to spec. As much as we can be, anyway," she said wryly.
"Do what you can, Lieutenant." She and Janeway stared at each other a moment, kindred spirits in this. They'd keep Voyager in the best condition she could possibly be in. That would have to do.
Harry Kim was shaking his head. "Captain. I'd like to stay on the bridge for a while. There are some calibrations I think might help. I'll only take one bank off-line at a time, so we have full capability. But I may be able to boost our ears another two or three percent."
Janeway nodded. "All right, Harry. Don't drive yourself past where you can function. And pick a team to help."
"I already have volunteers. Joe Carey offered, and B'Elanna suggested Bryna Schneerson. She's been working Delta, but she'll come up early and give us a hand."
"Do it, then. Keep me advised. Well, everybody. We know we've got to stay on our toes. But nobody can function that way forever. Find a way to give your people a break."
"Aye, Captain." And one by one, they filtered out of her office.
Chakotay remained. "Is there anything else we should cover?"
"No, Commander. I guess not. What do you say we call it a day." He nodded agreement and she stretched as she rose from her desk chair. "Come on. I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
They stopped on the bridge for just a minute, making sure the relief crew knew where all the senior staff would be, just in case. Making sure all the readings were clear. Just in case. But all the readings were nominal, the surrounding space uninhabited. No activity. No anamolies. No sensor ghosts. Nothing.
They went straight to Kathryn's quarters. She gestured to the sofa in invitation, and Chakotay eased himself down, a soundless sigh escaping him. She eyed him, then said only, "Give me a minute." She went into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, and Chakotay shut his eyes. He was tired.
He stirred at the sound of Kathryn's voice, almost a whisper. "Are you asleep?"
Chakotay shook his head, "No." He opened his eyes. She was crouched down in front of him. She'd changed out of her uniform into comfortable civvies, old and soft. "Comfort clothes," she smiled at his glance. "Some days the uniform is more confining, somehow. Do you want to go change?"
"No need. I'm fine."
She slid up to the couch and stretched her feet out to the coffee table. "All right. Computer, lights fifty percent."
They sat side by side in companionable silence for a few minutes. Finally Chakotay stirred. "Neelix outdid himself. I think he was happier delivering the letters than the people receiving them. He really wanted to share with them, last night."
"He's a good man," Kathryn nodded. "And..." She stole a sideways glance at Chakotay.
"What?"
She shrugged. "These aren't letters from his home, after all. He must feel a little strange about it. And yet he's happy for us. He's more generous than I could have been." She looked down for a moment. "And the whole thing is a bit of a double-edged sword, isn't it."
"Maybe."
"I suppose everybody feels a little...ambivalent. The good with the bad. We hear from home, but we're no closer."
Chakotay sat up, his elbows resting on his knees, turning slightly in Kathryn's direction but not really looking at her. "We're going to have to deal with that, you know."
"How do you mean?"
"When the reaction sets in. People are wound too tightly, right now. But when a spring releases..."
"I know." Kathryn scrubbed a hand over her face. "I suppose we'd better prepare for a little outbreak of hysteria. Cabin fever, anyway. Homesickness."
"Probably." But he shook his head. "We're in this for the long haul. Everybody knows that."
Kathryn watched him covertly. Chakotay's expression was professional, with the mask firmly in place. She stood up, a little irritated. She was going to have to push, then. He wasn't going to make it easier, this time. "How about that coffee?"
"No. Thank you. You really do drink too much of it, you know."
"At least I don't fill it with sugar. Rots your teeth."
Chakotay shrugged, without the smile she'd expected. "Sometimes I need the energy. And I know you find this hard to believe, but I don't really like coffee."
"Actually, I did know that," Kathryn turned from the replicator to look squarely at her first officer. "I'm more observant than you think. Tell me something, Chakotay."
"Of course."
"Are you going to talk to me?"
Taken off guard, Chakotay leaned back a bit. "Kathryn?"
"You're avoiding."
"I don't know what you mean."
She raised an eyebrow. He didn't usually dissemble. "That's not true." He sighed, and looked away. "...No. I suppose not. But you've...had your own concerns to deal with."
Kathryn perched on the coffee table, sitting directly in front of Chakotay so she could see his face. "I'm sorry. I've been pretty self-involved the last couple of days."
"I understand that. Your letter." Politely, he left it at that.
"Thank you," she said, responding as much to what he didn't say as to his words. "But...this will not do."
"I'm sorry, I don't-"
She reached out for his hand. "It won't, Chakotay."
He shook his head. "Kathryn..."
She sighed. "All right, then. Straight out. I was brave and told you about my letter. Can't you tell me about yours? Or was it...too personal?"
It was as if she was talking to a stranger. A polite stranger. She was treading delicately at the edge of their friendship, pushing a little farther than she normally did. Chakotay should be reassuring her that she wasn't presuming, that he didn't mind, that he welcomed her attention. But ...not this evening. There was no smile in his eyes for her. "I'm sure you've heard about it already anyway. The news was all over the ship."
"Yes, it was, but I don't know how distorted it was. And I don't know what she said to you. I don't even know who 'she' is."
Chakotay looked away, a muscle clenching in his cheek. "Sveda. A woman called Sveda Nordstrom. I don't know if that's really her name. She wrote to me."
"Is she a friend of yours?"
He laughed shortly, a sound without humor. "We called each other friend. We worked together. No. I didn't like her much. She didn't like me much."
"Then why--"
His voice was expressionless. "Because she was the only one who could. She's in prison how. Where you would have put me, as a matter of fact." His tone was absent, as if this was a mildly interesting and irrelevant fact that he had just now discovered.
Kathryn recoiled slightly. Chakotay's voice. His voice...he seemed willing to talk, but it was almost as if he had no personal tie to the conversation.
He was continuing. As if this was a briefing. "I guess she cared enough, about our friends, not about me...to let me know. Maybe because I was the only one she could tell it to. Maybe because I escaped."
Kathryn was silent. By the time the rumors made the rounds last night at the party, she'd thought it meant the Maquis was disbanded. Of course that would matter to him. But... There was a hard knot of dread forming in her stomach. "Chakotay. You're not saying..."
He leaned back into the couch, his eyes flashing at something she couldn't identify. "They're all dead."
"But...that can't be. There were thousands of--"
"Yes. There were." His voice dropped on the last syllable.
"But how could that happen?"
"Maybe you should have gotten more than your letter from Mark, Kathryn." She sat back, her hand dropping to her lap, open, defenseless for a moment. "Apparently the Federation is about to go to war. Something called the Dominion. Sveda doesn't say much. I don't suppose it matters, to her. They've done what the Cardassians couldn't."
Kathryn looked away, her mind working furiously on several levels at once. The Dominion? Starfleet was preparing for war? For the first time, she was angry at Mark for only talking about the personal. Didn't he realize she needed to know what was going on? Apparently not, she thought to herself. Apparently he thought you'd just be concerned with your petty little... And you were. That's exactly what you were doing.
She focused on Chakotay again. "Then there's war brewing."
"I don't know. They won't go to war over the Maquis, Kathryn. Maybe, if there's more involved. More people. More...important people."
"That's not fair," she lashed out. "You can't condemn the whole Federation for this. Not even the whole of Starfleet."
His eyes flashed again, in anger or grief, she wasn't sure. Then it faded. "No. Of course not. Forgive me. It's been a very...trying day."
Oh, god. She was thinking of herself again, of her friends in Starfleet, of the colonies she'd known, of all that a war could mean. And Chakotay sat here, helpless, knowing only of the deaths that had already happened. "Chakotay? I'm sorry." Her voice was very soft now.
"No need," he said again. He seemed to have no energy, even to speak. "I didn't mean to sound as if I was accusing you."
"I know." She pulled herself to her feet and curled up on the sofa again. She didn't touch Chakotay. Only her voice reached out, close behind him. "They were your comrades. Your friends."
"Yes."
"Were there no survivors?" She didn't want to press him. But he needed to be able to tell her. At least that.
He shrugged. "A few. Sveda. Macus. Others I don't know. Not many. Out of thousands." He scrubbed at his face wearily. "I should go. You need to get some rest, tomorrow will probably be a long..."
"Don't," she said quietly. "Stay, just for a while. Put your feet up. You don't have to talk. You don't have to be polite. Just rest."
"I can't," he said darkly. "I can't seem to-"
"No," Kathryn said. "Don't talk. Just stay."
His shoulders were stiff with tension. She could see the muscles clenched from where she sat. When she reached out a hand, only touching the juncture where his neck curved into his shoulder, he jumped as if she'd hurt him. A sound escaped him, something nameless, and he froze. She pulled gently at him, tugging his shoulder back. After a moment, a long moment, he eased back and leaned against the cushion. His eyes facing upward, staring at the ceiling in her quarters. Unblinking.
Kathryn curled herself back, centimeters away, not watching Chakotay, letting her mind drift. Willing him to relax as she did. A bit of tension seemed to leave him, as he sat there. Finally he spoke, his voice clear and quiet. "Kathryn?"
"Hmm?"
"It's not the prison, you know," he said irrelevantly. "It's not that. We all knew that could happen. It's the senselessness of it. It's so meaningless."
"Yes. It would feel like that."
He reached out to her then, responding not to her words but to her voice. His hand seized hers and she grasped it firmly, not moving away. An anchor, if he would take it.
Chakotay closed his eyes. "I couldn't...you told me about Mark's letter and it seemed I was hearing you from a vast distance. It was very important, and I know I said something, I don't even know what, and yet I couldn't quite hear you."
She nodded, though he wasn't looking at her. "I knew there was something. I don't think you've seemed quite so remote in...well, a very long time. You smiled, you joked at the party. But you worried me. I expected...I don't know what I expected."
When she turned to him, he was still looking up at the ceiling. "I was...it's very hard to reconcile. The two places are so distant from each other."
She wasn't sure what he meant, but it didn't matter. He was here, he was willing to talk to her. To share, at least a little. She squeezed his hand once, then relaxed. Letting him find his own way.
They sat there, not talking, not moving, till her eyes closed. It had been a very long day.
END
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