Title: The Darkness of Their Eyes
A Chakotay back-story
Author: Helen Anthony hanthony@ionet.net
Written 01/97
Chakotay heard singing. At least he thought he did. He was still trapped in the world half way between consciousness and dreaming where one can never be certain about anything. He drew in his breath and forced his eyes to open. He blinked, adjusting them to the light. Yes, he definitely heard singing. He sat up in his small bed. Too small for him now. It was the bed of his childhood and his broad shoulders nearly spilled over the sides of it. His feet dangled off the end. He was in the home of his parents. The home of just his mother. Over a week ago a Cardassian phaser blast had taken his father to the place that lay beyond the understanding of men.
He'd been on Dorvan V for just a day. The journey from earth had taken long, too long. He wondered if he wouldn't have been able to find a faster ship, secure speedier transportation if he hadn't so dreaded being here. If he hadn't been so overwhelmed with guilt at the reason for his visit. Most of yesterday had been wasted at the Cardassian docking station in an unsuccessful attempt to bargain for the return of the bodies of those settlers killed confronting Cardassian militarism. His father's body was among them.
He had hoped to see his mother yesterday morning, but quickly learned that the transporters at the settlement were not functioning and the transporters at the Cardassian docking station were to be used only in emergency situations. Unable to find a Cardassian officer sympathetic to his cause Chakotay had made the 13 kilometer trek on foot, not arriving until the sky glowed pink with the dying rays of the sun.
His mother was alone when he arrived at her house, having finally sent home the relatives who had sat with her, waiting for him. After embracing they sat together on her couch. Chakotay wondering what to say to bridge the gap of so much time between visits and so little communication. If only he'd been able to secure the body he could have given it as a peace offering from him to the people he had abandoned. But he had nothing to offer for atonement. There was only himself.
Chakotay had started the conversation with apologies. Apologies for failing to bring the body, apologies that the trip from earth took so long, apologies that he'd not visited sooner. She waved them away, granting him full pardon with a sweep of her hand. Not yet ready to present Chakotay with the emotions of her grieving she began with the practicalities. "Your father had been studying ancient Mayan cultures," she said. "Though we hadn't discussed it I think he might have wanted a traditional Mayan funeral."
Chakotay reached back into his mind trying to remember his trip to Central America as a boy, anthropology classes at the academy, anything that might help him remember what a 'traditional Mayan funeral' would entail. His years with Starfleet had shown him that there were more similarities than differences when it came to mortuary rites. All throughout the universe the bodies of the dead were lovingly prepared and equipped for their journey to the afterlife. But here there was no body to prepare.
"But those Mayan funerals - they are not so easy any more," his mother continued. "People no longer care about the old ways. It is difficult." She shook her head. "I do not think that we will have much luck finding a sacrificial virgin."
Chakotay stared at her, opened mouthed for a moment, before he saw the gleam in her eye. People always commented on Chakotay's sense of humor. Twisted they called it. They had no idea what a twisted sense of humor was. They had never met Annalida. As a child much of her humor had escaped him. He could never understand how just a few words from his mother could take his father from despondency to fits of laughter. As a youth his mother's humor had annoyed him, as had most everything else about his life. He was grateful for it now. Inappropriate maybe, but at least their laughter provided an outlet for his emotions. Behind her laughter, though, he could see his mother's grief.
There was a bite to her humor as well. Like any outsider Chakotay had developed misconceptions of his father's beliefs and lifestyle. The ease with which his mother 'reeled him in' was a reminder to Chakotay that he did not know his family as well as he should. Kolopak had spent his entire life balancing tradition with modern culture. Had he planned his own funeral it would have been a something like a combination of Indian traditions and an Irish wake. A ceremony would be held, but Annalida was waiting on her son. She needed him by her side to get her through it.
"We will remember Kolopak tomorrow night, Chakotay. We will gather in his home and remember him to each other. We do not need his body for that." She reached to him and took his hand and held it in both of hers. It was so large now, strong and hard. Not like when he was a child. He had not been a thin child. She remembered those hands, soft and pudgy, tugging at her legs when he begged for another snack. "Tomorrow night, Chakotay, I want you to be the first to speak."
"Please no, Mother. There are others who knew him better. I wouldn't know what to say."
"And they will speak in turn, but you are to be the first."
"I ... I don't think I could do him justice. I never understood him. I ..."
"I, I, I," she shook her head. "This is not about *you*, Chakotay." Her voice was stern, commanding. "Tomorrow night, when we gather to remember him, Kolopak's son will be the first to speak." It was settled.
Chakotay nodded, "Yes ma'am," and watched as his mother's expression softened.
"Do you remember his parents?" she asked.
"Not really."
"No, I suppose you wouldn't. You were barely born when Kolopak's mother died. And not much more than four or five when his father did. Kolopak was the child of their old age. They had grandchildren older than him. Your grandfather was not a traditionalist. When Kolopak abandoned his formal education for a traditional life your grandfather was very disappointed, and when so many others followed Kolopak your grandfather felt betrayed. Your grandfather became ill with his old age and Kolopak went to him to make amends so that the old man would carry no anger to the next life. Your grandfather told Kolopak that he could never carry anger against his son. That a father's love is stronger than a father's wounded pride." She placed a hand on Chakotay's cheek. "Your father loved you, Chakotay. Your father understood you. He was a contrary, too" She kissed his cheek, rose from the couch and bid him goodnight.
Chakotay sat for a while trying to picture his father as a contrary, couldn't do it, and began to wander aimlessly through the house. He came across a pile of books. His father usually read from PADDs, unless it was something important to him, something he wanted to keep. Chakotay picked up a book and thumbed through it. The bookmark was a slip of paper on which a note was scrawled in his father's writing. The note was dated last week. Kolopak must have been reading this book shortly before his death. Chakotay carried the book with him to his room and read it until he drifted to sleep, sprawled out across a bed too small for him.
That bed of his childhood is where Chakotay now sat, turning his head from one direction to the other trying to determine the source of the singing he heard. He rose from the bed, wrapped a sheet around his waist, and followed the singing to a window. He raised the blinds and saw his mother, scattering seeds and grain to a covey of ground fowl that darted between and around her feet. She was singing to them. Chakotay raised the window. "Good morning, mother."
"Look who's up!" She paused her song only long enough to respond. Chakotay recognized the song. It had been sung to him more than a few times.
"Mother, are you singing to the chickens?"
"They're not chickens. They're goukas. And yes, I am singing to them."
Chakotay laughed. "Mother, *why* are you singing to the chik- to the goukas?"
"They like it. They lay bigger eggs when I sing to them." To prove her point she walked to a nesting box and held up a pale orange egg. It *was* big. Quite impressive considering the size of the bird.
"Wouldn't it be easier just to replicate eggs?" Chakotay asked.
"Chakotay, you know how I love to sing." she chided. "People would think I was crazy if I sang to a replicator." She smiled at him, flashing dimples. A twisted sense of humor wasn't the only thing Chakotay inherited from his mother. Annalida walked to the window and gave him a disapproving frown. "Get dressed, boy. Around here you never know when the neighbors will stop by."
Showered, refreshed and more or less dressed, Chakotay padded barefoot into the kitchen a half hour later. He stopped in the entry to watch his mother skillfully crack the eggs and spill their contents into a bowl. She was quick. One egg per hand, crack it, open it and toss the shells into a pail for composting. Chakotay moved to the replicator. He wanted coffee and it didn't look as though any had been prepared yet.
"That doesn't work." His mother informed him.
He punched an entry code anyway. It didn't work. "You want me to fix it?" Probably just a fused power relay he thought. That's the most common problem with replicators.
"That's okay. You need a rest."
Chakotay looked at his mother. When did she get so old? Her hair was all grey now, her face deeply creased with the lines of life. He walked to her. "Let me do that." He took the bowl and whisk from her hands, noticing the chopped vegetables on the counter; mushrooms, peppers and onions. She knew he loved omelets. "Sit down, mom." She obeyed sitting at the counter, watching him with wonder as he mixed the eggs. She was still amazed that she had created such a perfect being.
"Your uncle wants to spend time with you before you leave."
"Which one?" Chakotay scooped the vegetables into the bowl.
"All of them."
Chakotay stopped to laugh. "I guess I'd better take some more leave then." He'd been considering an extension of his leave. As it was his first day of leave had been completely wasted. "The community center has a sub-space transmitter, doesn't it? I'll go by after breakfast and let Starfleet know I need a few more days."
"You'll have to go back to the docking station. Our transmitter is broken."
"Do you have a vehicle I could borrow?"
"Our little hover craft died last year. We gave it away for spare parts. Perhaps you could find a ride with someone else."
Chakotay let out a sigh of frustration. Even if he could find a ride back to the station he'd seen the line at the public transmitter. There goes another wasted day. "The transporters don't work, the sub-space transmitters don't work, the replicator doesn't work. Does *anything* work around here?" He'd spoken louder than he intended. He'd practically shouted. He stared at the floor for a minute and started to apologize, but his mother spoke.
"Your father was going to repair the replicator," she answered softly. "He'd ordered the parts, but then we decided not to. We found that we enjoyed preparing our meals together. We'd both been so busy with organizing the resistance and serving on the inter-tribal councils that we had stopped taking time for each other. Meal preparation was something we did together." She rose from the stool and walked towards her son. "He would fix my breakfast every morning. He would stand right where you are standing now and cook for me. You move like him, did you know that? The way you walk. The way you rub your chin when you're not certain what to say."
Her voice broke and she paused to compose herself. "You know, Chakotay, cooking for someone is like making love to them." Chakotay felt the color rise in his cheeks. "When he cooked for me Kolopak was making love to me. He was concerned only with pleasing me, with nourishing me, with satisfying me." Chakotay couldn't breathe. "You remember that, son. When you meet the woman you want to love forever you should cook for her."
"I'll remember that, mom." This was the first moment that Chakotay understood the depth of his mother's loss. He realized that she had lost her spouse, her partner, her friend, but he had never considered that she had lost her lover. He'd never thought of his parents as sexual beings. He could understand that pain. A man does not live more than 30 years without losing a lover. He pulled his mother into his arms and held her as she wept. "I'll stay here today. I can notify Starfleet tomorrow."
"But you want to do it today."
"It would be nice to get that out of the way," he glanced down at the chronometer on his wrist, "but I don't think I have enough time to get there and be back for this evening."
"Don't rely on this too much," she said tapping the chronometer with her finger. "Time is not something you *have* or *do not have*. Right now you will do what you must do, and when you come home then we will remember your father. These measurements of time are deceiving. Things happen when they happen."
"All right. Do you know where I could find a ride?"
"Start walking. Your ride will find you."
"Welcome home, Chakotay." He'd heard that phrase countless times as he walked the foot path that led through the compound and back to the docking station. He wasn't certain how to respond. This wasn't his home. He'd never even lived on Dorvan V. When his family finally settled here Chakotay had already left them for Starfleet. This time the salutation was delivered by a child, a girl barely taller than his waist. "Welcome home, Chakotay. Are you going to the station?" She joined him now on the path.
Chakotay stopped to look at her. She looked familiar. He crouched down to eye level and put his hands on her shoulders. Of course he recognized her, but it couldn't be. Not unless she'd been suspended in time for almost three decades. Or maybe he was the one out of time. "Kalayna?" He whispered. The girl giggled and an adult voice sounded behind him.
"Of course not, Chakotay. Did you think I'd been in cryogenic stasis? Did you think they'd frozen me?"
Chakotay stood and turned. "Kalayna!" And his childhood friend was in his arms.
"This is my daughter, Raynee." Kalayna explained withdrawing from his embrace to present her child.
"She looks just like you."
"Yes. Everyone says that." Kalayna ran her hand over her daughter's head. "I heard you need a ride to the station."
"I'd love one." He nodded towards Raynee. "How did she know who I am?"
"We all heard you were coming." Raynee took charge of the situation, taking Chakotay's hand and leading him towards one of the dwellings set back from the path. "We've been very excited about it."
"Who is *we*?" Chakotay asked.
"Everyone, Chakotay. Everyone is glad that you've come home," said Kalayna. Chakotay felt uncomfortable for a moment. She'd said it with such finality. Surely Kalayna knew he wasn't home to stay. They walked to the side of the house where an decrepit hover craft was stored under a shelter. "Here's our ride. I may need your help getting it started."
It took nearly an hour of makeshift repair work before the engines hummed to life. Chakotay lifted Raynee to the seat and climbed in beside her. "What's happened here, Kalayna? Why is everything falling apart? There must be engineers and mechanics in the community."
"We have the people, but not the supplies. The Cardassians won't let anything through."
"You mean a supply blockade?"
"Not a blockade. We could run a blockade. No they're more subversive than that. All of the supplies we've ordered - and *paid* for - are caught up in a web of bureaucracy. Either we didn't complete the correct requisition forms or our purchase orders are out of reconciliation. The Cardassians control all of the traffic to this planet and they are determined to make our lives here so miserable that we'll want to leave."
Chakotay made a mental note to notify Starfleet command of the supply situation as soon as he returned to his ship.
Shifting his mind to more pleasant thoughts he watched Raynee for a few moments. She'd brought a doll with her and was lecturing it on appropriate dinner etiquette.
"You married Ed Tsoosie didn't you?" Chakotay asked.
"Yes. Raynee is our only child. I'm going to the station to see him."
"Oh?" Chakotay couldn't imagine why Ed would be at the station. None of the settlers worked there.
"Ed was taken prisoner when your father was killed. He's facing trial for the 'attempted murder of a Cardassian officer'. They told us we could visit him once a week. This will be Raynee's first time to see him since it happened."
"I'm sorry, Kalayna."
"Thank you." She reached over and squeezed his knee. "You were right to come home. We need you."
Chakotay stared out the window spending the rest of the ride in silence.
When Chakotay asked for the use of one the Cardassian's military transmitters they'd only laughed and not even his Starfleet influence could gain him quicker access to the public transmitter. So he waited. The public transmitter's reception was terrible. Chakotay was certain that the communications officer at the academy could clean up their end, but Chakotay could barely understand them. Through much effort they reached the understanding that Chakotay could extend his stay indefinitely, but the next transport ship would be in the area the day after tomorrow. Chakotay weighed his options. Three days was too short of a visit, but if he didn't return on that transport it might be weeks before another one was in the area. He made tentative arrangements to catch the transport. He would make arrangements for a future visit soon.
When he finally emerged from the station Kalayna was waiting for him in the hover craft. She'd been crying. Chakotay piloted the craft back to the compound while Kalayna held Raynee in the tight circle of her arms.
"There's already quite a crowd. More than I expected." noted Chakotay as they approached his house. The house was not big enough to contain the throng which was spilling out of every door and some windows. Chakotay recognized most of them, aunts, uncles, cousins. His large extended family had never used terms to define degrees of relationship. There were no second cousins, no uncles-in-law or twice removed. You either were family or you weren't. Growing up it had always seemed to Chakotay that most of the people in his universe were family. And tonight it seemed that every person on Dorvan V who could claim family status, and some who couldn't, had crowded into his mother's home.
"It is both a time of sorrow and joy. We mourn your father, but the Prodigal has returned," said Kalayna. "Do you suppose they killed the fatted calf?" Chakotay turned to stare at her. " 'The Prodigal Son'," she explained. "It's a parable from the Christian bible. That's a *Terran* religion." she explained.
He cut the engines. "I know that. I've read it. I'm just - surprised that you have."
"We are literate, Chakotay. We may raise goukas in our back yards, but a good many of us can read and write." She was smiling so Chakotay assumed that he had not offended her too deeply.
Chakotay thought that he would never complete the journey from the front door to his mother's side. Every step he took led him to another relative who greeted him, expressed condolences and remarked how he had grown. He finally took his place beside her, wrapping a protective arm over her shoulder. The crowd quieted. Chakotay was waiting for something, a formal declaration or some signal to indicate that the ceremony had begun. There was none. Finally he rose to speak.
"Rumor has it that my father was a contrary." This was met with the muffled laughter of affirmation. "I did not know my father well. Perhaps while I am here I can know him through you. Tonight I will hear you tell of my father and I will come to know the man I should have known all along. Last night I found a book my father was reading, I would like to read from that book now. This is from 'Black Elk Speaks'." Chakotay drew in his breath and tried to pace his speech, matching it to the rhythm of the great story tellers.
"This, then, is not the tale of a great hunter or of a great warrior, or of a great traveler, although I have made much meat in my time and fought for my people both as a boy and man, and have gone far and seen strange lands and men. So also have many others done, and better than I. These things I shall remember by the way, and often they may seem to be the very tale itself, as when I was living them in happiness and sorrow. But now that I can see it all from a lonely hilltop, I know it was the story of a mighty vision given to a man too weak to use it; of a holy tree that should have flourished in a people's heart with flowers and singing birds, and now is withered; and of a people's dream that died in a bloody snow.
"But if the vision was true and mighty, as I know it is true and mighty yet; for such things are of the spirit, and it is in the darkness of their eyes that men get lost." Chakotay took his seat by his mother and with her hand in his he listened and began to know his father.
The ceremony had lasted for hours. It was almost sunrise and while most of the crowd had dispersed still a few remained: Pitussa, Shem, Carlos and Tiko. The earlier formality of the evening had given way to a less structured and much heated discussion of politics.
"Your *Starfleet* promised that this land would be ours."
"Not indefinitely," explained Chakotay. "It was agreed that you could live here with the understanding that a final treaty was yet to be negotiated."
"We've been here over 25 years. Starfleet must talk slower than old Pitussa," exclaimed Shem. Chakotay laughed and looked at his ancient uncle who nodded in agreement.
"It hasn't been a problem before," said Chakotay. "Until recently Cardassia was busy with the Bajoran occupation. Now that the occupation is over they've turned their focus here."
"So they can do to us what they did to Bajor," said Tiko.
"Nothing has been finalized," said Chakotay. "The treaty is still in negotiations. Starfleet may convince the Cardassians that it is in their best interest to give up this territory."
"But in the meantime they are going to do everything they can to push us off," said Tiko.
"We are here legally" said Carlos. "Why doesn't Starfleet protect us? Put one of your big ships in orbit. Put some men in gold and black down here. Let the Cardassians know that they can't murder us and get away with it."
"A highly visible Starfleet presence would only amplify hostility with the Cardassians." Chakotay had asked the same questions of an admiral at Starfleet HQ and was repeating the answer he'd been given. "Besides we don't have the manpower. Less then two years ago we lost over 11,000 people to the Borg. Starfleet is stretched to its limits right now. We can't afford a major confrontation with the Cardassians."
"You can't afford it?" asked Carlos. "What would it cost?"
"It might cost everything. A full scale conflict with Cardassian forces right now would be devastating to Starfleet."
"Ahhh," said Pitussa. "So Starfleet only fights battles it knows it can win." Chakotay had no response so they sat in silence for a while.
"You'll see what it's like, Chakotay," said Carlos. "When you've been here a few weeks you'll understand."
"I'm not staying," Chakotay whispered.
"But we thought you'd come home," said Shem. "Your mother told us you were coming home."
"Earth is my *home*. I came here for a visit."
"You're going back to Starfleet," said Pitussa.
"I'm going back to Starfleet. I have responsibilities."
"Yes," said Pitussa, holding Chakotay's eyes firmly with his own. When he spoke each word was slow and clear, "*You* *have* *responsibilities*."
Chakotay was feeling defensive, "I made a commitment to Starfleet. I'm sympathetic to your cause, but you can't really expect me to dishonor my vow to Starfleet. My father didn't agree with my decision to join, but he respected it. I don't think he would want me to turn my back on something I've worked for my entire life."
"I remember something," said Pitussa. "Something your father once said." Chakotay waited for the old man to continue. His family could out-talk any other group of people he'd ever met, but they weren't afraid of a little silence now and then. Chakotay was anxious to hear what his father had said. He was hungry for his father's words. What he had so long ignored and disregarded he starved for now. They sat in silence while Pitussa thought and nodded to himself. He finally continued, "Your father, he once told me, 'Pitussa' he said, 'Pitussa - those Cardassians are sneaky bastards. Don't ever trust them.'"
The men laughed so loud that Chakotay knew they were going to wake his mother in the next room. "One last pearl of wisdom from Kolopak," gasped Carlos. The laughter subsided.
"You should go to him," said Pitussa.
"What?" asked Chakotay.
Pitussa placed a leather pouch on the table in the center of the room. "You should go to your father. Tonight was a good beginning, but you must make your final peace with him." Chakotay recognized his father's medicine bundle. He ran his hand over his head, shaking it.
"That canyon behind the compound is a good place," said Shem.
"No," said Chakotay.
"It is a powerful place," said Carlos. "Especially at sunrise."
"No!" Chakotay was exasperated. He'd forgotten how damn persistent his relatives could be. And all the time with that smug attitude that they know he's going to give in to them eventually and they're plenty willing to out-wait him.
"Go, Chakotay. Seek him."
"I've barely slept in three days..."
"That is good. Sleep can cloud the mind," said Tiko.
Chakotay knew when he was beaten. "Fine. Fine. I'll go." Chakotay picked up the medicine bundle. He wondered how far the hike to the canyon was.
"Do you know what to do?" asked Pitussa.
"I saw my father do it a hundred times." He knew the ritual. He'd seen it, read about it, even tried it once or twice in his early youth. He could go through the ritual as well as anybody. He thought that maybe he was ready for this next step. Perhaps the time had come for him to embrace his father's ways. He could incorporate them into his life at Starfleet. Find a balance between his world and his father's.
The men walked him to the door and watched him as he vanished in the pre-dawn violet.
"He grew up big," said Carlos. "Bigger than his father."
"He's a big man," said Tiko.
"Why did you send him off?" asked Shem. "You really think Big Man will have a vision?"
Pitussa laughed, "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
The canyon wasn't far, less than five kilometers, and thank goodness Chakotay was able to access the fresh spring. He hadn't thought to bring water with him. Sitting in the damp grass Chakotay spread out his father's bundle before him. He ran his hand across a smooth stone, remembering when his father had picked it up from the jungle floor on their trip to Central America. He prepared himself, placed his hands on the acunah and recited the words he'd heard his father recite. The words he'd read in his academic studies of "Religious Beliefs of Indigenous Terran Cultures" and began to let go of his conscious mind.
"Get up!" Chakotay felt a boot nudge him in the side. "I said get up. NOW!" The nudge was firmer this time. Firm enough to leave a bruise. Chakotay rolled and rose to his knees. A figure stood over him silhouetted by the bright sun.
The bright sun? *What time is it?* Chakotay wondered running a hand over his face. Nearly mid-day. *Damn. I must have fallen asleep.* He tried to rise to his feet but the booted foot caught him mid-chest and sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Not so fast. Keep your hands where I can see them." The figure moved to the side a bit allowing the light to cross his face, but Chakotay didn't need to see his face to know that it was a Cardassian military officer. Chakotay looked for the second Cardassian he knew would be there and saw him standing nearby in the shade of a tree, the medicine bundle and acunah in his hand. Holding his hands over his head Chakotay stood. "What are you doing here?" demanded the first officer.
"I guess I fell asleep."
"Why here?" the Cardassian asked.
"Why not here? Doesn't this look like a nice place for a nap?"
"This looks like a place you don't need to be. Get back to your settlement."
*Are they like this all of the time?* wondered Chakotay. "I'd hate to waste such a pretty day back at the house. I think I'll stay here."
The guard stared at him for a moment. "Don't move." He turned to his companion. "What was in the pouch?"
"Aw, just a bunch of religious paraphernalia. Rocks, feathers." A small smooth stone fell from the bundle to the ground as he spoke. He held up the acunah and snorted. "Looks like he planned on taking a little *mind trip*."
The first guard approached Chakotay and scrutinized him. "I don't recognize you."
"I'm not from here," replied Chakotay. "If you'll let me reach in my pocket, I'll show you some I.D." The guard nodded and Chakotay reached into his vest pocket to produce the slim mini-PADD that served as his I.D and hand it to the Cardassian. There was a moment of silence as the Cardassian compared Chakotay to the holo-image on the card.
"I'm going to have to confirm this," the Cardassian said. Taking a few steps away he turned his back and spoke quietly into his communicator. The other officer raised his weapon as a warning for Chakotay not to move. After a brief conversation the first officer returned and handed Chakotay his I.D. PADD.
"So - you're Starfleet," the officer said. Chakotay nodded. "My apologies. I thought you were one of *them*." Chakotay stared at him stupidly, not sure how to respond. "I wasn't aware that Starfleet had begun infiltrating the resistance movement. They should keep us informed of their activities."
"I am not here in an official capacity," said Chakotay. "My father was - my father died recently." He nodded towards the medicine bundle. "Those things were his." As the second Cardassian took a step towards Chakotay to hand him the medicine bundle, his boot ground the fallen stone into the soil.
"My condolences," said the Cardassian unconvincingly. "While you're here it would be a good idea for you to talk some sense into these people. Take them back to earth. You wouldn't want anyone else to *die*."
Chakotay closed his eyes for a moment. The past few days had allowed him little time to deal with his own emotions. There had been too many chores, too many crowds. For just a moment he let the anger wash over him. He moved closer to the second officer, standing nose to nose, nearly butting him with his chest. "Excuse me." His words were exact, measured, precise.
"What?"
"Excuse me, please." Baffled, the guard shrugged and backed up a few steps. Chakotay crouched to unearth the stone that had fallen from his father's medicine bundle. He used his shirt to wipe it clean. "When I return to earth I'll be filing an official complaint about the conditions here. This incident will be included in my report."
"You want to do your people a favor, *Starfleet*? Forget about reports. Get them off of this planet. Get them out of our way."
After the Cardassians left Chakotay looked at the stone in his hand and noticed that dirt was embedded in the delicate design carved by his father. He carried it to the spring and sitting on a rock he meticulously cleansed the dirt from the stone.
"Have a nice vision?" Carlos laughed.
"I can certainly see more clearly," Chakotay responded. He was beginning to feel more comfortable here, slipping back into the analogous style of speech he grew up hearing.
"How's Kolopak? He approve of last night's ceremony?" Carlos was mocking him, the way they like to tease outsiders.
"You should ask him yourself, Carlos. I believe the canyon is current available."
Carlos grinned widely at this. "Maybe later. I'll see you tonight." Carlos was still grinning as he headed back towards the settlement, leaving Chakotay and Pitussa to continue at a slower pace.
"You look rested," observed Pitussa.
Chakotay laughed, "I should. I had a nice little nap."
"No vision?"
"No vision. Did you really think I would have one?"
"Did you?" Another irritating habit. Answering one question with another. Chakotay shook his head.
"Why did you send me?"
"Why did you go?"
Chakotay stopped walking. Again there was silence and no hurry on the part of either to fill it. Finally, "I felt like I owed him something. I thought that maybe if I did this for him, if I at least went through the motions it could bring some kind of reconciliation Do you know I haven't even grieved him for myself? My tears have been for my mother. Not for him. Not for me."
"Don't rush yourself Chakotay. Take your time. You have much to grieve."
They resumed their trek towards the settlement, again in silence for a while.
"Pitussa, what do you see in your visions?" Chakotay asked.
"I wouldn't know. I've never had a vision."
"Really! You've *never* had a vision?"
"You sound surprised."
"I am."
"You sound like a white man, Chakotay. Visions are a rare thing. Few people have visions."
"Did my father have visions?"
"I don't know." Pitussa pursed his lips trying not to laugh. "Why don't you ask him sometime?"
Upon arriving at the community center Chakotay was immediately led through a side door to a small room. There were about thirty people there, men and women. Some of the them he knew, most he didn't. Pitussa was there and Shem. Chakotay sat between them. A small group, Choctaw maybe, cast a suspicious glance in Chakotay's direction. A brief nod in their direction from Pitussa put them at ease. One of them managed a half-smile towards Chakotay.
"What is this?" Chakotay asked.
"War room," said Shem. War room? Chakotay then noticed the display on the table before him. Tactical plans for a raid on a Cardassian munitions storage facility. A raid to be made later that night.
"Dammit, Shem!" Chakotay jumped to his feet. "I can't be here!"
"Leave if you must," said Pitussa.
Curiosity got the best of him and Chakotay looked at the plans. They were pitiful. They weren't for a demolition raid, they were for a suicide run. The Cardassian military was among the best trained in the quadrant. No one would return from this mission alive. A second year academy student could have done better. But then, a second year academy student would have more tactical training than any person in this room. Except Chakotay
Chakotay sat back down. "Pitussa, call it off. This is suicide."
"Something must be done," Pitussa said.
"But not *this*. The Cardassians will destroy you."
"This is not a good plan?"
"No, this is *not* a good plan. This is a *terrible* plan."
"What would you suggest?"
Chakotay walked right into that one, didn't he? *Now what?* he thought. *If I get up and leave I know that every person in this room will be dead within 12 hours. If I stay then I've betrayed my oath to Starfleet.* Chakotay leaned forward on his elbows, "You know what I think?"
"What do you think?" asked Pitussa
"I think the Cardassians aren't the only sneaky bastards on this planet."
Chakotay paced the sitting room of his mother's house trying to rationalize what he had just done. He had just acted as tactical advisor for raid against a race with whom the Federation was desperately trying to establish peaceful relations. Chakotay decided then that he would leave in the morning. He would get as far away from this place as he could and wash his hands of the lot of them. It was no longer possible for him to stay. It was not possible for him to live in both worlds. He was foolish to think he could strike a balance. He knew when word of the demolition raid reached Starfleet that he would be questioned. He couldn't imagine being in a worse situation.
"Honey, I should be back by sunrise." Chakotay turned to the door of his mother's room. She was wearing all black. Her long hair pulled up and tucked neatly under a stocking cap. He recognized the utility belt she wore as an old Starfleet model. An explosive device was clipped to it.
"Where do you think you're going?" He used the exact tone his father had used on him when he was caught sneaking out of the house one night.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine. Why don't you fix yourself a snack?"
"You can't go! Are you crazy?"
"Annalida - you ready yet?" Kalayna poked her head in the front door.
"You're going, too?" asked Chakotay.
"I'm ready." Annalida walked to the front door, pausing long enough to kiss her son on the cheek. "Good night, Chakotay."
Chakotay briefly considered whether or not he was strong enough to physically restrain them and decided he wasn't. "Wait! Wait! I'm going with you!"
"Hurry up."
Chakotay ran back to his room, "Can you at least let me get my damn shoes?" he yelled.
"Come on." Shem stepped in the front door. "We're going to be late."
"We're waiting on Chakotay," said Kalayna.
"He's getting his damn shoes," explained Annalida.
Chakotay had never known terror before. Not like this. He tasted a little of it when he boarded a starship to face certain death at the hands of the Borg. But that was nothing compared to this.
Chakotay had not directly participated in the raid on the Cardassian storage facility. He'd stayed back, his heart in his throat as he tried desperately to keep these two women out of harms way. He'd at least convinced them to maintain a defensive position outside the perimeter of the storage facility, and when it erupted in a ball of flame and they began their retreat he kept them close, ready to put his body between them and danger. His only concern was to get them home. He had no idea how many casualties their group had suffered.
Now he sat at his mother's kitchen table, trying to control his trembling hands while she heated the water for tea. "That was some explosion," she noted.
"Yes. Yes it was."
"Bigger than I expected," she added.
"It surprised me, too."
She brought the tea to the table and sat down, scooting his cup to him. "Seemed like a lot of weapons they had there, just to protect the Cardassians from our pitiful little band of rebels," she said.
Chakotay nodded over his cup.
"Too many weapons, isn't it Chakotay? Too many for just defense."
Chakotay nodded again. "They're stockpiling," he said. "They have no intention of letting you stay. They are planning for an all out offensive."
"I was afraid of that." She craned her head from side to side and began to rub her neck.
"You sore?"
"A little. I may be too old for this." Chakotay stood and moved behind her and began to gently massage her neck. "Mmmm I'd forgotten how good you are at this. You used to rub my neck all the time. Do you remember?"
"I remember. You wouldn't let anyone else do it."
"Everyone else made it worse. You were always the only one who could do it right. Mmmmm Chakotay you're wonderful. You ever massage the necks of any of those pretty Starfleet women?"
"No," Chakotay laughed. "It wouldn't be appropriate protocol."
"Take it from a woman, whenever you want to breech protocol this would be a good way to start." Chakotay laughed harder. She could make him laugh too, just like she could his father. She was quiet for so long Chakotay thought he'd put her to sleep. Then she spoke again, "I didn't realize how tense I've been."
"Mom. Don't worry. I'm going to make a full report. I'm going to take today's transport so I can get back and push it through quickly. I *know* Admiral Hogan will be sympathetic. I don't know how, but I'll explain about the stockpiled weapons. I think once Starfleet hears what is really happening here they may send security. At least they can help keep the peace until the negotiations are finished."
"What then?" she asked.
"Then you may have to leave."
"I'm not leaving."
Chakotay sighed in resignation and looked at the chronometer on the wall. "I better get ready. My transport will be at the station soon." His mother smiled at him, but her eyes were full of tears. "I need to go back, Mom. I think I can help you there. I can intervene for the colony." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Mom, I can't stay here. This isn't for me. I know this is hard for you to understand, but I'm happy there. I love Starfleet."
"Does Starfleet love you?"
Chakotay left her sitting at the table as he went to his room to change clothes. He opened the closet door and took his uniform from the hanger. He'd made the journey here in civilian clothes, the uniform stuffed in his duffel bag. A few days in the closet had aired out most of the wrinkles. He could smooth out the rest by hand. He would leave this place in uniform. Regardless of what he had done he was still Starfleet. A box on the shelf of the closet caught his eye. It was labeled "Chakotay's Stuff" in large block letters. Chakotay remembered packing that box before he left for the academy, filling it with things precious to him that he may one day wish to reclaim. He took the box from the shelf and set it on the bed with his uniform.
Before lifting the lid of the box Chakotay tried to remember what was in it: some letters he'd received from a girl whose name he couldn't now remember and some horrid poetry written, but never sent, to the same girl; an athletic trophy and academic awards; photos. He lifted the lid and on top was a leather pouch. His medicine bundle. His father had given it to them on their sojourn through Central America. It was empty. Chakotay had tossed it casually aside never imagining that he'd need it. His father must have placed it in this box. His father who had faith that Chakotay would some day wish to reclaim it. His father the contrary who had let Chakotay leave though it broke his heart. His father who loved him and whose love for him Chakotay could see reflected in the eyes of his tribe. Did Starfleet love him?
Once during a childhood tantrum Chakotay had declared, as all children do, "Nobody loves me." He remembered his mother's response: "You were born loved, Chakotay. You can never escape that." At the time he thought that she had meant loved by herself and his father. But it was a love that extended beyond his parents, beyond his extended family. Chakotay was born not only to his parents, but to his tribe. He was theirs. He belonged to them.
Chakotay took the pouch in his hands and sat down on the bed, half way on his uniform. He was wrinkling it again. He ran his hands across the smooth leather of the pouch.
A decision was about to be made.
*This is Kairos* thought Chakotay. The Greeks have more than one word for time, Chronos is Starfleet time, 'Kairos' is more like Indian time; seasonal; things will happen when it is time for them to happen. Chakotay wondered briefly if his entire life had been preparation for this time, this season when the seeds that had been planted by his father and had lain dormant for so long would take root in his soul, and his people would reap the harvest.
Chakotay was surprised to find that his face was wet with tears. When had he begun to cry? He pulled his uniform from beneath him and used it to wipe his eyes. *You have much to grieve* Pitussa had said. Indeed he did: the loss of his father; now the loss of Starfleet, for his decision had been made; and the losses he had yet to face as he endeavored to take on this losing battle. Chakotay held the red and black uniform to his face and wept into it. Crying now for his father and for himself.
When he eventually made his way back to the kitchen his mother was still seated at the table.
"I guess I better let them know I'm not coming back," he said.
She nodded.
"We'll have to get organized. We can't fight the Cardssians on our own. I'm certain there are some Bajorans who would be willing to join us. They want to push the Cardassians as far back as possible. And we'll need ships. Does the tribe still have that old transport cruiser, we could sell it, get something smaller, faster."
"We still have it. You can talk to the council tomorrow."
Chakotay tried to smile, "Do you think we could get me a bigger bed?"
"Big enough for two if you like," her dimples flashed at him.
He laughed and shook his head. "Mother!" he exclaimed in feigned dismay.
His mother stood and walked to him "A *grandmother* has no time for the warpath," she said wrapping her arms around his waist.
He returned her embrace, "Do I get a choice in this or have you already picked out the girl?"
"Welcome home, Chakotay," is all she said.
"It's good to be home," he replied. "It's good to finally be home."
-finis