Duplicity, chapter 4
by  ragpants

 

 The Hotel El Cielo on Dorado Street in San Francisco was a modest hotel near the business district. It was the kind of place a salesman or a father visiting a student attending one of the nearby universities might stay.  It wasn't elegant, but it was the best Chakotay could afford, given the modest travel budget begrudged to him by the University. The rooms were clean and functional, with all the requisite furniture and equipment, but banal and interchangeable. For all Chakotay could tell from the personality of the room, he might be in Pusan or Dar-es-Salaam or Berlin or Paxum City on Betazed

The downstairs lobby broke that blandness somewhat. The hotel had been built in the Expansionist Revival style and a vaulted ceiling, painted in a color Chakotay felt he ought to be able to name, arched overhead.  Kvuhl. That was what B'Elanna had called it, he recalled suddenly. It was the exact shade of  blue that the sky turns right before it dissolved into the eternal black of space.

 Chakotay realized with a start of self-consciousness he was staring at the ceiling. That wouldn't do. He had business in the Lobby. He was supposed to meet his contact.

Hotel lobby chairs were designed to be uncomfortable Chakotay decided with an irritated grunt as he sat.  He squirmed sideways a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position on the brick that was masquerading as a cushion. He didn't succeed. Restively resigning himself to another fifteen minutes of discomfort, he settled back to wait for Dr. Rhaodamer's associate to arrive. His vantage gave him a unrestricted view of the hotel lobby traffic. Maybe, if he were lucky, he wouldn't have to wait that long.

A good looking, twenty-something blonde wearing a  snug top and even snugger black leather pants glided across the lobby on long, elegant legs.  She bypassed the Registration Desk and headed straight to the elevator. Chakotay watched her enter the elevator and vanish.  He gave a sigh of resigned disappointment. Of course, she wasn't his liaison. That would require luck. And luck was something he hadn't seen much of since he had arrived on Earth last week.

First, his meeting with the Bryant Foundation in Vancouver had gone south. Oh, they had money and they were willing to hand it out. Just not to him. It was 'nothing personal' they had assured him. They were impressed by his credentials and the quality of his program. It was just that they couldn't possibly fund such a far-flung research project, particularly one whose administrator wasn't resident on the North American continent. They were a 'hands-on organization' and their trustees liked to 'personally oversee' their grantees. All of this had sounded to Chakotay like they didn't especially trust him, though trust him with what he wasn't quite sure. What was he going to do? Embezzle the coffee fund from the dig? Fence artifacts on the black market?

Next had come word from Curator Rhaodamer that she was going to be 'unavoidably delayed' at a conference in New York and wouldn't be available to meet with Chakotay when he arrived in San Francisco. She was very sorry and was sure that Chakotay would understand.

Chakotay understood--all too well. Curator Rhaodamer was meeting with some other hopeful grant  seeker in New York and Chakotay would just have to cool his heels and hope there was some funding left when the Curator returned.  Chakotay blew out a lungful of aggravation through his lips. He had never realized just how tedious and competitive a researcher's life could be. All he wanted was enough money to fund the next three seasons at the dig.  Just enough to pay for supplies, transportation, his summer salary, maybe a  small stipend for his grad students and volunteers.  It wasn't that much. And here he was going through all kinds of ass-kissing contortions just to get it. It didn't seem possible that he was the same man who had  once been Captain of the Crazy Horse. Then, he had just taken what he wanted:  through trickery or bribery, by assault or downright theft. But he hadn't kowtowed to anyone. But now here he was, groveling.

Another attractive woman entered the lobby. She was older than the one who been there earlier. Mid-thirties, he guessed, brunette and dressed in what Chakotay mentally labeled as casual business attire. She made her way to the Registration Desk. After a brief conversation, the clerk pointed in Chakotay's  direction.  She must be Dr. Rhaodamer's assistant.  Chakotay stood, plastered his best 'charm 'em' smile on his face and stuck out his hand in greeting.

"Professor Watuema," she greeted him, pronouncing his name with a flawless accent. Chakotay wondered how long she had practiced to get the glottal stop in the middle of his name and the back-of-the-throat half-swallowed vowel sounds just right. With her pale complexion and icy blue eyes, she didn't strike him as a native Navajo speaker. "I'm Liesl Hoedel, Dr. Rhaodamer's assistant. I'm sure you're aware by now that Dr. Rhaodamer has been held up in New York. She's asked me to look after you today, perhaps show you around town. Have you been to the city before? Are there any sights you'd like to see? Any places you'd like to go?"

Chakotay considered for a moment. San Francisco was rife with old memories and old friends. He wasn't sure he wanted to confront either of them right now. "No. Thank you.  Actually, I lived here for several years about 30 years back. I'm sure the city hasn't changed all that much."

Ms. Hoedel nodded and smiled, revealing a double dimple in her left cheek. "In that case, perhaps you'd  be interested in seeing the current exhibition at the Center for Man.  While we're there I could acquaint you with the goals and expectations that the Board of Directors have for the museum and some of their particular areas of interest as well. It might help you when you make your presentation to them tomorrow."

Chakotay smiled, warming to the woman. He liked her--and she was going to be useful to him, which made him like her even more. He gestured that she should lead the way. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

She stopped suddenly as she was turning and put her hand warmly on his forearm.  "I forgot to ask, Professor Watuema. Do you require special arrangements at the auditorium tonight? For your lecture?"

Chakotay smiled. "No. Nothing. But thanks for asking.... And please, call me Del. Professor Watuema is so formal. And difficult to pronounce, though I must admit you did it perfectly."

Liesl leaned too close and whispered into Chakotay's ear, "I practiced."

* * *

Chakotay slipped his finger along the edge of the red velvet curtain, pushing it back just far enough so he could peek out at his audience. Susslik Hall, the next to smallest of the six auditoriums in the University's Performing Arts Center, was less then half filled. Chakotay was slightly disappointed but supposed this was the best he could expect for a Tuesday night slot in a continuing, and largely unpublicized, lecture series. He knew from his personal experiences that academic lectures were typically more honored in the abstract than in the actual attendance. It might have helped, he admitted to himself with rueful hindsight, if he'd had some sort spectacular exhibit to go with his lecture, some magnificent jewels, or holos of imposing monuments. Unfortunately, the Indigos--the nickname he'd given to the civilization he was excavating--hadn't produced anything in that vein. Some painted and corrugated pottery. Some nicely woven textiles. A few utilitarian bronze tools. Nothing that would draw in the anthropology uninitiated.

He let the curtain fall back into place, meaning to go check with the holostage operator to make sure his displays were in a compatible format and were loaded in the proper ordered.  But  some odd feeling stopped him, a sense of portentousness, of foreboding. He paused for a second look at his audience. It  was overwhelming female, which was typical, with two brightly dressed clots of students leavening the mostly older crowd. The larger of the two student groups sat clustered in center front section, right in front of the stage. The other slumped  carelessly in their seats at the top of the upper left section, nearest the exit door. Chakotay smiled to himself. Some professor must have made attendance at the lecture mandatory. He recognized the signs, having done the same thing himself many times.

Chakotay let the curtain fall closed again, but that feeling of oddness settled on the back of his neck like an itch.

Light fingertips traced the back of his triceps, making Chakotay jump. "Nervous, Del?" Liesl asked with barely masked amusement.

Quickly reorienting himself to place and situation, Chakotay flashed a smile back at her. " Not really. I *have* done this before," he assured her.

"I'll remind you of that *later* Professor Watuema," Liesl volleyed coquettishly.

Chakotay wasn't quite sure how he ought to respond that that. Fortunately he was spared the potential embarrassment of a reply when Liesl held up a padd. "I've made some notes for your introduction. Is there anything you'd like to add?"

Chakotay glanced over the text and handed the padd back. "Looks good."

"What about after?" Liesl  asked, as she took the padd from his hand.

Chakotay frowned slightly, not quite sure he understood the question and wondering if she had  mentioned something earlier which he had either forgotten or not paid any attention to in the first place. "Is there a reception?"

"No, nothing like that, Del," Liesl assured him.  "I was just wondering if you had any plans for after the lecture."

 "Well, I usually like to stay and mingle with audience for few minutes after I've finished.  Answer  a few questions. Visit with the students, flirt with the ladies." He grinned as he said this..

"But beyond that...I thought I'd just go back to my hotel."  With a flash of guilty insight, Chakotay realized he taken up Liesl's whole day and had now  devouring a large portion of her evening as well. Well beyond the call of duty. She was young woman, attractive. She doubtless had things to do, friends to meet, perhaps even a husband or lover to catch up with. He ought to let her go. "I'm sure I can my own way back."

"Are you sure?" Liesl asked, her voice going low and seductive, "because I know this very quiet, very cozy bar....I thought we could drop by for a  drink, then we could see what develops from there."

She was propositioning him, he realized with a jolt. A beautiful woman, half his age. He was flattered. Very flattered. His grin widened. Maybe his luck was finally changing.

* * *

"As you can see there are many similarities between the pottery style you see here from the North River site on Iguala IV and that of the early Miwok culture here on Earth.  Note the....."

Chakotay came to the end of his description of his last exhibit and gave the hand signal to the holostage manager to shut down the display.  A few more closing remarks, and he was finished. He motioned to restore the house lights, then stood blinking like an owl in sunlight when the illumination level rose. His vision didn't adapt as quickly as it once had. He tugged on is ear in chagrin at the evidence that he wasn't as young as he used to be. A splatter of polite applause rose from the audience followed by the rustle people readying to depart.

Chakotay made a wave of invitation toward the audience. "Feel free to stay, " he announced, "I'll be happy to answer any of your questions.

Most of the audience was already leaving.

He shoved his notes into his satchel which he had stashed under the lectern, then intercepted Liesl at the side of the stage. He asked her to retrieve his holostorage unit. He would need it tomorrow when he had his meeting with Curator Rhaodamer

As he descended the steps at the left side of the stage, he scanned the remnants of his audience. It was mostly students who stood waiting, chatting among themselves in groups of twos and threes. A few stood separately. One of these lone faces caught him. A woman's face. One he knew. One from his past he hadn't expected to see here tonight. Chakotay stumbled on the step, nearly missing the next riser. Liesl caught his elbow and steadied him. He sought the woman's face in the crowd again, but it was gone.

"You OK?" she asked.

 Chakotay nodded. "Fine. I thought I saw someone I knew...."

"Deal with it later, " Liesl interrupted rather sharply  "I need you to focus." She tugged him closer so she could speak without being overheard and continued. "There are three individuals here tonight who are potential contributors to the museum. Potential big contributors. Curator Rhaodamer was supposed to handle them, but she's not here so that job has fallen to me.  So, be charming. Very, very charming and leave the rest to me...  The first one is Reiki Hemsath. He's the grandson of the founder of Hemsath Mining on Toborg....."

Be charming, she said. Oh, he could be charming. He could be  damned fucking charming.  When he was fourteen, his mother had come home earlier than expected from visiting her sister in another village. She'd found him in the bathroom at home, nursing scrapped knuckles and trying to staunch a bloody nose. He had expected her to be angry, to scold and lecture him about the importance of cooperation and getting along with others.  Instead she had only looked at him with disappointment. "Son," she'd said, "There are two ways to get what you want in life. You can smile or you can fight. Smiling is faster." It had taken him fifteen years and a broken nose to discover that his mother was right. Then he had learned to smile.

Chakotay greased the conversational wheels and after not more than four minutes learned that the only interest in anthropology any of Liesl's three potential contributors was to see his or her name in large letters above an exhibit's main display.

Not long after that the might-be philanthropists left, with Liesl trailing behind them like a bee following honey. No doubt she was busy smarming all the way.

 Their departure left Chakotay alone with the students. The students swarmed around, asking all kind of questions, some thoughtful and insightful, other irrelevant and silly--mostly the latter.  He was laughing with them and had just launched into one of funny stories about the dig when he heard footsteps approaching from the rear of the auditorium. He  glanced up expecting Liesl, but it wasn't.  

Kathryn.

His heart seemed to pause. His  mind argued it couldn't possibly be her. She was too busy to be a frequenter of lecture series--and anthropolgy had never been a topic that interested her. He pushed his way through the surrounding students.

She looked smaller than he remembered, as if the ordinariness of the surroundings somehow diminished her, and an air of diffidence hung around her that warred with his memories of the strength and determination she had displayed in the Delta Quadrant.

He approached her uncertainly, half sure she was a figment of his imagination and would vanish like a popped soap bubble if he came too close. As he neared she seemed to regain that bold stature he recalled from Voyager's Bridge and he saw the familiar animation dancing in her eyes.

 There was a moment of awkwardness. He wasn't sure how he should greet her, if he was allowed to hug her or show any tangible evidence of their long association.  Back aboard Voyager she had wrapped herself in an invisible shield that kept him at arm's length. He wondered if he old rules still applied.

Then she extended both her hands toward him. He took them both in his and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Kathryn,"  He said her name out loud just for the pleasure of hearing it. "What are you doing here?" He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She arched an eyebrow in that achingly familiar way. "I live here, remember?"

He rolled his eyes with fond exasperation . "I know that...but here?"  He would have gestured around at the auditorium, but that would have meant releasing her hands.

She shook her head and gave a small snort. "Long story. What are you doing here?"

He grinned. "Long story."

She laughed and if he entertained any doubts about her reality, they were dispelled. This was Kathryn, just as he remembered her.

The male student having grown impatient with Chakotay's defection made a remark. Considerable tittering laughter followed it, reminding Chakotay he still had an audience.

He squeezed  Kathryn's hands. "Wait here. Just wait here. Don't leave, " he urged, wishing her could put a spell on her to weld her to the spot.

"I will.," she promised.

Relief and pleasure from her words rolled through him. "I'll be right back."
 

[Continue to Chapter 5]