LEGACY

Title: Legacy, 1/4
Author: Jaye (Copyright March 2002)
Codes: VOY C/Weyoun NC-17

Note: Written for the Chakotay Fest

Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager, Deep Space Nine and all
related characters and concepts are the property of
Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. This
is NC-17 for m/m sex. If you aren't interested (or aren't
old enough), don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a line first so I know where it's going.
Please keep the text (especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure, but this is only my second attempt at fanfic
so be kind, or at least constructive. If I've mangled DS9
canon, my apologies. I'm using episode guides for my info.

Backstory: On Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Michael Eddington
was a Starfleet officer turned Maquis spy. After he finally
broke cover, he became a Maquis leader and a serious threat
to the status quo. He was eventually captured and imprisoned
by Starfleet. He later deceived his captors into taking him
to a planet they thought held weapons they needed to
destroy, but actually was the last sanctuary for the few
remaining Maquis. Eddington died making sure the last of his
people were saved from the Cardassian-Jem'Hadar slaughter.
Among those rescued was his wife, Rebecca.

Weyoun was a Vorta clone who served the Dominion as liaison
to the Cardassian Empire. His people believed the
shape-shifting Founders (like DS9's Odo) were gods because
they had genetically transformed his people from the
ape-like creatures they used to be. There were several
clones of Weyoun during DS9's run, one of whom tried to
defect and turn over military secrets to Odo. There's an
interesting loophole in Weyoun's history: In one episode,
it's made clear that Weyoun's genetic material is secure,
but in the final episode, Garak kills the Vorta and someone
says that he was the last clone. Therein lies this tale.

Time: Set a few months after the final Voyager episode,
"Endgame."

***************

PART ONE

Chakotay finished loading the last container into the
storage bay and exited, leaving the hatch open behind him.
He stepped back to once more admire the graceful lines of
the DreamCatcher. The small freighter had started out as a
wealthy Ferengi's pleasure yacht, but gambling debts had
brought the ship into Chakotay's hands.

The ex-officer pondered the vagaries of fate. The life he
was about to embark upon was very different than what he had
envisioned during those last days in the Delta Quadrant.
Then, he had planned on staying with Starfleet. The only
family he had left were his friends on Voyager, and Seven
had been on her way to becoming much more than a friend. He
had told the former Borg he always wanted to be within a
transporter hop of her.

Chakotay chuckled and shook his head at his naiveté. He had
forgotten to make sure that she wanted him there. Once Seven
became the darling of so many scientists and engineers, she
abandoned her "irrelevant attempts to upgrade her
interpersonal skills." The adoration of dozens of technical
consultants won hands down over the company of a single man,
especially one that so inconsiderately forced her to express
emotions. He sighed. He wasn't sure yet if he regretted
never taking her to bed.

Seven's change of heart had left him at loose ends as the
rest of Voyager's crew scattered to the four winds. Then
he'd had a most interesting visitor. Starfleet's
less-than-perfect security had allowed a padd of Chakotay's
logs to fall into the hands of a savvy publisher. She'd been
impressed enough to offer him a three-book deal that
included profits from several associated holoprograms. His
natural gift for storytelling soon landed him on the top of
the best-seller lists. And on Starfleet's black list.
Halfway through the unofficial dressing-down Chakotay had
pulled off his newly replicated pips and walked out.

He'd just crammed all his worldly possessions into a couple
of lockers at the spaceport when he'd encountered the
soon-to-be-creditless Ferengi. A bit of Chakotay's
accumulated back pay and his first book advance had easily
covered the cost of the ship. After stripping and selling
off all of the gaudy (and queasily pornographic) interior
fittings, he was ready to go. But where? Chakotay stepped
back aboard his new home and secured the hatch.

The solitary traveler swiftly strode through the nearly
empty cargo bay, past the engine room and climbed the aft
stairs to the upper deck. Without all the gold and lurid
paintings, the DreamCatcher's gently curving bulkheads and
sense of light and space were more Bajoran than Ferengi. He
passed the galley, Sickbay, a lounge and four other cabins
to reach his own suite near the compact bridge.

Entering the well-furnished space, Chakotay glanced at the
unopened duffel bags laying in the corner of the living
room. He continued through to the bedroom, kicked off his
shoes and flung himself on the king-sized mattress. He lay
back and soon succumbed to a restless sleep.

***************

Fog flowed around Chakotay as he strolled through the
dreamscape. Vague shapes cast silhouettes against the mist
as they drifted toward him. As they approached Chakotay
recognized the former Maquis he'd been contacting since his
return to Federation space. They ambled past, completely
oblivious to their old comrade.

The last figure was Rebecca Eddington. Chakotay's chest
tightened with remembered pain as he recalled his visit with
the widow of his good friend. Though she seemed to have
moved on with her life, they'd both shed tears as she
recounted her husband's last hours.

A barely familiar voice broke through the twilight, calling
Chakotay's name. He moved toward the sound until he found
himself in a tunnel. He saw a figure in the dimness,
beckoning. "Come to me, Chakotay."

Chakotay's brow furrowed in confusion. "Michael, where are
you?"

"Come to me, Chakotay. You're the only one who can help."

"I don't understand."

"Please, Chakotay, hurry. I'm running out of time."

Chakotay sat up, shaking with a sense of urgency. He rubbed
his hands down his face, trying to shake off the disturbing
dream. He stumbled to the computer terminal on the desk and
began punching up data. He scrolled through reports,
stopping when his eyes alighted on a name. Altos IV. The
last Maquis battlefield.

He rose from his chair, grabbed his shoes and headed for the
bridge to begin pre-flight checks. He now had a destination.

************************************************************
************************************************************

The silence of the deserted planet brushed at Chakotay's
senses like a living thing. He was glad the corpses had
somehow been cleared, but he could still sense death and
despair clinging like lichen to the rough-hewn walls. When
he reached a cavern that seemed vaguely familiar, he dropped
to sit on the uneven ground and laid out his medicine
bundle.

As he entered the trance state, he found himself still in
the cavern, but this time he was joined by another presence.
"Hello, Old Man."

Chakotay jumped and whirled, seeking the owner of the soft
tenor voice. Dimples bloomed at the sight of a tall man with
elfin features. Chakotay closed the distance between them in
a few strides and threw his arms around the slighter form.
"Michael!"

Michael Eddington embraced his old friend, closing his eyes
and laying his head on the broad shoulder for long moments.
He sighed and moved back to see Chakotay's face. "You look
good for someone given up for dead."

Chakotay gave a sad smile. "I wish the reports had been as
wrong about you." He gently squeezed the thin shoulders.
"Michael, why am I here?"

Michael abruptly broke the embrace and paced, running a hand
through his thinning hair. "I'm not at peace, Chakotay. Too
many deaths weigh upon me." He stopped. "You don't know how
bad things got at the end. The levels the Maquis sank to
just trying to survive. We became like *them*." He sighed
and gave Chakotay a rueful look. "You wouldn't have let it
happen, I know. But you weren't here."

"I'm sorry, Michael, I---"

"No, no, that's not what I mean." Michael laid a reassuring
hand on Chakotay's arm. "I need you to do something for me,
Chakotay. You're my last chance to set things right." He
grabbed a bronze hand. "Come with me."

Michael began leading Chakotay deep into the maze of
tunnels, pointing out symbols barely visible against the
dark rocks. At a seemingly solid-looking wall, he tapped
four spots precisely and stepped back. Light spilled out as
a piece of the wall retreated, exposing a narrow passageway.
The two men soon reached the light source, a tiny cavern
throbbing with the hum of machinery. A stasis chamber
dominated the room.

They halted before the clear-topped coffin. All Chakotay
could see inside was a swirling mist. Michael turned to meet
his friend's puzzled eyes with pleading ones. "Promise me,
Chakotay, that you'll take care of him. That you'll see him
safe."

"Who, Michael?"

"An innocent. A pawn the Maquis never got to play. The game
is over, but he was never set free." Michael's eyes seemed
to penetrate the fog still roiling under the transparent
canopy. "We did what was right for us at the time. But I
can't let him die alone and forgotten." His eyes burned into
Chakotay's. "This is the Maquis' responsibility. And you, my
friend, are truly the last of the Maquis."

Chakotay looked again at the stasis chamber, then turned to
meet Michael's desperate eyes. "You have my word, Michael,
I'll take care of...our legacy." Relieved, Michael urged him
over to a control panel where most of the lights glared red
with urgent warning. "Watch and remember, Chakotay. One key
out of place and the whole system will crash."

Chakotay memorized the complex sequence of commands and
heard the hiss of a broken seal as the canopy began to slide
back. Michael drew him toward the chamber door and they
embraced one last time. He laid a cool hand against
Chakotay's cheek. "Thank you, Chakotay."

***************

Chakotay's eyes opened to again see the shadowed cavern. He
gathered his things and switched on a wristlight, diligently
searching for the tiny carvings that would guide him through
the tunnels. His steps grew more confident as he retraced
the trail to the hidden chamber. Four sharp taps and he
heard the groaning of long-neglected gears. The wall opened
just enough for him to squeeze through.

A swift jog through the passageway and he was again standing
before a mist-filled stasis tube. In reality the lights were
dim as power was nearly exhausted. Chakotay moved to the
control panel and began typing. He heard a pause in the
faint background hum as the failing systems struggled to
complete their programming. After several anxious minutes
Chakotay was rewarded with the "all clear" sign. He slowly
slid back the canopy and watched the wisps of vapor begin to
dissipate, revealing a still figure on the narrow surface.

The slim body was as pale as chalk. Was Chakotay already too
late? He reached in to check for a pulse when the eyelids
snapped open. "Don't touch me!"

Chakotay reared back at the panic-stricken cry. He held his
arms out, palms up, and soothed, "Don't worry. I'm not going
to hurt you." His eyes widened as the alien sat up and made
to stand.

It was like watching Michaelangelo's David come to life.
Muscles bunched and released under bright white skin. The
only hair on the slender frame formed springy black locks
almost bisected by two delicate ridges that ran from the top
of the man's head to the corners of his strong jaw. His ears
were simply slightly larger hollows than the others that
decorated the ridges framing a classically beautiful face.

Chakotay hastily brought his eyes up from an exploration of
the hairless body to meet stunning aqua eyes. They searched
his own with a combination of confusion and command. "Who
are you?" the alien demanded.

"Chakotay. Who and *what* are you?" Chakotay snapped back,
riled by the peremptory tone.

"Why are you still in human form? Where are my attendants?"
The unidentified man started to stand, but his legs
immediately collapsed. Chakotay barely managed to catch the
naked form before it sprawled upon the dusty floor. The
moment his hands made contact with pale skin the alien
started weakly thrashing, trying to break free of Chakotay's
hold. "You're not one of us! Let me go! What's going on!
Where am I? Where are my masters! Help! Help me! Let go! Let
go!" The alien suddenly slumped in Chakotay's arms,
unconscious. Chakotay hoped that the newly awakened man had
simply exhausted himself; he wasn't sure his medical skills
were up to stasis-induced health complications.

Chakotay laid the man back on the bed, quickly stripped to
the waist and dressed the alien in his own tunic. After a
quick fruitless search of the chamber for some clue to the
situation, he hefted the unconscious man into his arms and
began the long walk back to the DreamCatcher. As he made his
way through the dim tunnels to his ship, Chakotay looked at
the peaceful face resting against his shoulder and wondered
what tomorrow would bring.

TBC 
END OF PART ONE