NEANDERCHAK

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The transporter beam released them, leaving them disorientated and nauseous. Several groaned and others tottered unsteadily for a second or two. Nausea and disorientation after transportation was not uncommon, but this was something else entirely. Then the away team noticed something else, something beyond their own discomfort.

“Where’s Chakotay?” B’Elanna demanded.

Ayala looked around him as the dizziness cleared. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t have walked off without saying something.”

Someone finally relented and vomited. B’Elanna scowled as she took out her tri-corder. “I’m reading high levels of radiation.” She slapped her communicator. “Torres to Voyager.”

“Janeway here. Where’s Chakotay? The Commander should be the one to sign in, Lieutenant,” the captain said, stressing her rank to let her know that her break from protocol was unacceptable.

B’Elanna paused. “What do you mean, where’s Chakotay? Isn’t he on board?”

“What do you mean, ’isn’t he on board? He beamed down with the team.”

Another pause. “Commander Chakotay is not here.”

Now there was silence.

Several kilometres above them Janeway stared at Harry.

“Chakotay’s transporter pattern was materialised 1.6 metres to B’Elanna’s left.”

“So where is he?”

“According to my bio-scans, he is still 1.6 metres to B’Elanna’s left.”

“Obviously the scans are inaccurate, Harry. Scan again.”

“Same result.”

“Tuvok?”

“I have the same sensor results, Captain.”

“Then there’s a malfunction. Find it. Transporter room 1, report?”

“Okinawa here. The beam-down went as normal, Captain.”

“Lieutenant, check again. The Commander did not re-materialise with the others. Where is he?”

“According to transporter sensors he was re-materialised 1.6 metres from Lieutenant Torres, 3 metres from Aya. . .”

“Lieutenant, the away team has reported that Commander Chakotay did not arrive with them. Retarget the scanners and beam the team back. Preferably with the Commander.”

“Aye, Captain. Locking on now.”

Seven seconds later, the away team were back aboard. Still no Chakotay.

“Janeway to away team, report to the briefing room immediately.”

The team looked at each other and shelved any idea of saying anything. In the briefing room, Kathryn paced, and that‘s how they found her. She looked slightly agitated, but inside she was nearer to panic.

Kathryn turned and almost pounced on Torres, the most senior of the team, in terms of rank.

“Report!”

“Chakotay did not beam back with us, and none of us have seen him in the last two days.”

Kathryn stared at. “What are you talking about, two days?”

B’Elanna frowned. “Captain, it’s been 49 hours since we beamed down. With all due respect, we are cold, hungry and tired.”

“Lieutenant, you will remain here until I have answers. You were beamed down to the surface ten minutes ago, now what is this about 49 hours? And I need to know what steps have you taken to find the commander?”

“Yes, Captain.” B’Elanna sighed. “May I?” At the captain’s nod she unclipped the tri-corder from her utility belt and proceeded to download the stored information into the wall-mounted console. “Computer, in real time, how long has this tri-corder been running?”

“Forty-nine hours and six minutes,” the computer responded.

“Computer, state which scans were not performed, that could have been, to locate Commander Chakotay?”

“All standard scans were performed, with the addition of eighteen non-regulation scans, including boosting sensor gain at a distance 3,000 kilometres.”

“Sentient, or near-sentient, life forms within that distance?”

“None detected.”

B’Elanna turned to the captain as the latter sank unceremoniously into her seat. She noted the look on her face. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“Find him. Scan the entire planet, hell the entire system, if you have to. Pull the sensors apart and rebuild them from scratch. I want Chakotay found. I won’t accept anything less.” Kathryn took a breath suddenly realising that her voice had risen. Captain Ahab, be damned. She was going to go crazy. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “First get some sleep and something to eat. Not necessarily in that order,” she added when someone’s stomach growled loudly.

The away team muttered obligatory responses and quietly left. Alone, Kathryn laced her hands tightly together. Worry creased her forehead, making her look more Klingon than human. Her eyes wandered to the tri-coder scans still playing on the monitor, video images as well as sensor information. Chakotay was not there.

She had no recollection of switching off the monitor, or even crossing the Bridge to continue in her ready room, but at some point she had. She paced until her legs hurt, and finally sat down to look at the tri-corder recordings again. Even in a different room, Chakotay was not in the images, although an irrational part of her mind suggested that he would be.

“Chakotay, where are you?”

She could not understand how the team, gone for only 10 minutes, could have been on the surface of a planet for more than two days. That surely meant the presence of some sort of temporal phenomenon. And if that was the case, why was Chakotay involved and not the whole team?

Her mind drifted back to an incident early on in their journey. They had a three second lapse in the ships recordings, and within that gap was a wave length unlike anything else she had ever seen. Kes had come to the Bridge demanding to see a planet on the main screen. She had not asked why at the time. But that didn’t bother her now, what bothered her was the three second long wave of . . .what was it?

As she called up the logs, her mind went off on a tangent. She had called upon three of the former crew of the Equinox to go on this away mission. All three had refused. Why? The logs for the three second gap told her nothing. She accessed the logs on the Equinox and they told her nothing either. Their files were so sketchy and flawed, in an effort to hide their activities, that it was a waste of time reading them, but she did so anyway.

Sometime later, the door chime woke her. She lifted her head, wondering what she was doing slumped over her desk. Then she remembered, she had not gone to bed yet. Her eyes were scratchy and she rubbed them. “Come in.”

Tuvok appeared. “Good morning, Captain.”

“Morning?” she wondered weakly.

“You fell asleep at your desk,” he decided with disapproval.

“Yes, I supposed I must have,” she replied.

“We have been conducting the scans your requested. I am reluctant to inform you that we have not yet located Commander Chakotay.”

Kathryn’s heart sank.

“We will, however, continue our search. There are still the swamplands to the south that had so far eluded our attempt at scanning them.”

“How so?”

“There has been an electro-magnetic disturbance in the atmosphere above that location. Ship’s sensors cannot penetrate it. Within the next hour or so, it should have dissipated enough for us to continue. There is another difficulty.”

Kathryn’s heart sank further. “What is it?”

“Sensors have detected what appears to be temporal disturbances. The planet is in temporal flux . . .”

“Well, I think we guessed that, Tuvok.”

“If I may, Captain,” Tuvok continued. “It is not only out of temporal synchronisation with the rest of the solar system, but the phenomenon fractures the entire planet into different time planes.”

“Are you saying we won’t find Chakotay, that even trying would be a waste of time?”

“I would not suggest that, Captain, simply apprising you of the situation as it stands.”

Kathryn swallowed. “Thank you, Tuvok. Keep looking.”

She watched him leave, and choked and quelled a sob. This would not do. She was a Captain first. Any personal feelings had to stay out of it. She had lost people under her command before, if she lost Chakotay it would be no different. If she lost Chakotay . . .

=/\=

A few minutes later . . .

“Track it, Harry! He may be in trouble.”

“Got him! Transporter room one.”

“Transporter Room one to the Bridge.”

“Go ahead, Okinawa. What is the commander’s condition?”

“I have his communicator, Captain. I’m sorry, but there’s no commander attached to it.”

Kathryn turned cold. The panic, the tears, and the scream that she had squashed down inside her since this hell broke, all vied to escape. She trembled with the effort. “Tom,” she barked. “Take a shuttle and find him. Work with Harry to triangulate Chakotay’s most likely position, and get him back!”

“Yes, ma’am.“ Tom jumped up from his seat at the con and squeezed her hand for only a second before leaving for the shuttle bay.

The sentiment was not lost on her.

=/\=

His wife. He had called the alien woman his wife. Damn it! What was she going to do now? How could she move on when all her dreams were all waiting for that time when they would be home and together. He was gone, and he wanted to be gone. She had pushed him away so often that he went looking for comfort in the arms of any woman who would have him for the night. She could not kid herself any longer. This time it was real, and she was left reeling from the blow to the solar plexus.

The suppressed sob of anguish bubbled up in her throat like an ogre bent on devouring her whole. Her eyes had filled with tears almost before she was even aware that it was happening. She pressed both hands to her lips, hoping that she could swallow them down, hide the pain. But the tide would not wait for King Canute, and it would not wait for her.

Undaunted it burst from her leaving her gasping for breath, choking and coughing with each sob wrenched from her. She had no choice. His uniform and rank pin was still in his possession, but his formal resignation sat on her desk in front of her. What was she going to do?: Drag his sorry arse back to the ship and have him chained to the bulkhead?

They had contaminated the local population enough, she had beamed his communicator out from under the woman’s nose. Yeah, smart one, Kathryn. The woman had found his backpack and shot him in the foot - smart one, Chakotay. Kathryn guessed it was an accident. The alien had taken good care of him, that was obvious. He had been dressed to match the surroundings, grey fur, some sort of lizard skin on his head to camouflage his vividly black hair. Vivid against the grey trees, the greyish sky, and even more vivid against the green moss at his feet.

She closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her mind from Paris’s descriptions as he had flown over it in the shuttle. It had been picturesque, in an alien sort of way. Not colourful or even beautiful to look at, but striking against the backdrop of coral seas, rich orange deserts and snow-capped mountains swathed in blankets of lush rainforest. This small pocket of pole-like trees interspersed with giants, with trunks almost 20 metres wide, covered in a thick dark green canopy spanning three times that. An ecosystem, within an ecosystem. She imagined that - what was her name? Hag? No, Haj - would not need to leave the tree for much in the way of food, water or necessities.

However much it hurt, she would have to comply with Chakotay’s wishes. She would let him go. She would move on, even if it killed her.

=/\=

Janeway and Paris stood at the edge of the swamp, watching Chakotay walk back to the woman he had chosen to spend the rest of his life with. She willed her self to remain standing, and not run after him.

“Voyager will be within transporter range in 20 seconds,” Tom noted quietly.

She opened her mouth to acknowledge the information when she saw it. A small subtle move of Chakotay’s hand across the woman’s abdomen. Something in Kathryn’s mind clicked. Suddenly she knew why he would not leave. Haj was more than just his wife. She was having his child.

Seconds later the world dissolved into countless dots of light and then reshaped into the Transport Room 1.

In silence they both returned to the Bridge, Tom to his station, Kathryn to her seat, although she did not sit.

“Computer. Transfer all First Officer protocols and command codes to Lieutenant-Commander Tuvok. Effective immediately.”

“Transfer complete.”

There was a moment of astonishment before Tuvok added his own announcement. “Computer, transfer the position of chief of security to Lieutenant Ayala. All command codes pertaining to that position, transfer to him.”

“Transfer complete.”

Kathryn sighed a wavering sigh and put on a bright smile - too bright. “Well, I’ll bid you all a good night. See you all in the morning.”

Outwardly calm, Kathryn returned to her quarters where her façade dropped away like grime under a shower. Sinking to the floor barely a metre inside her doors, she gave into the tears. She had lost him. To lose him to death was something she knew could happened at any time, but to lose him like this was unbearable.

But because she loved him, she let him go.

=/\=

Kathryn approached the main console in main engineering, her mind still going over all that Chakotay had told them. They had to help, Tuvok, quite rightly, had pointed that out to her. Not that she needed the reminder. What Ransom had done still made the taste of bile rise to her mouth.

“B’Elanna, how’s it going?”

“Captain,” the chief engineer turned, startled.

“I’m off duty, B’Elanna. I’m was simply passing by on my stroll. The Doctor told me to get some exercise.”

B’Elanna hid the smirk before Kathryn could see it, but she knew her captain. No one smirked without getting noticed. And the ruse of a stroll was not washing today. She knew the Kathryn ‘taking care of herself’ Janeway did not wash either. The Doctor would have had to slap some penalty or grave threat on their captain to get her to even think of taking a break. Hmm, I wonder what he said? she speculated silently.

“Anything to report?”

“I have had six proposals so far, most of them as far fetched as you ordered, Cap-er-Kathryn.”

“All right,” Kathryn conceded. “See you in an hour.”

B’Elanna watched the captain leave engineering, dressed in uniform even though she said she was off duty, and a bigger smirk crossed her face.

“B’Elanna?”

Smirk gone in an instant. “Yes, Vorik?”

“Here are the latest proposals for your perusal.”

=/\=

She almost jogged back into Sickbay, sweaty and breathless.

The Doctor clicked the stopwatch in his hand. “Very good, Captain. Next, I would like you to . . .”

“Don’t push it, Doctor,” she retorted, out of breath. “I’ve humoured you. Can I get back to the bridge now?”

“Certainly, captain. You are in perfect health, as always.”

She suddenly realised that she had been duped, yet again. How did he do that, without fail, every year when annual physicals came around? He always came up with innovative ways to give her extra vitamins, take exercise, sleep, take a day off, and yet she fell for it every time - how did he do it? Both hands on her hips, she sighed in exasperation. “You did it again.”

He grinned smugly. “I did, didn’t I?”

She shook her head. “All right, you win. My mind is now on other things. How are the bio-scans looking?”

“No increase in radiation poisoning. And Haj appears to be pregnant.”

“I know.”

The Doctor looked up. “You know? How can you possibly know that? Haj most likely does not even know herself yet.”

“Chakotay does,” she replied.

=/\=

In the briefing later . . .

“You say you picked the best proposal, B’Elanna. How’s it going?”

“It’s seems to be going well,” she replied. “It’s going to take some time, but I think we can guarantee an isotope-free planet in about six years.”

Kathryn stared at her, wondering if she was being sarcastic, but the look said she was serious. “Is there anyway to speed up the process?”

“We can try, but this is only just within safeties as it is.”

Kathryn sighed. “We have to try. We need to. We owe it to this planet and it’s inhabitants to do what we can to reverse the radiation poisoning.”

“We’ll do our best,” B’Elanna promised.

=/\=

Four hours later . . .

“Captain, I have something you may wish to see.”

Kathryn looked up from her seat on the command deck. Harry’s manner did not usually take on such a dark cloak, which was obvious from her surprised glance. “What is it?”

He looked at her, and that was enough. She got to her feet and joined him at his console.

“I ran a few simulations, some where we neutralised the radiation, and some where we didn‘t. Look at the scenario of evolution planet wide, if we were to leave it untouched.”

She did so. “Looks normal enough.”

“Now look at the projections the computer has come up with, when we include our intervention,” he invited. He ran the projections again.

Kathryn looked at him in horror. “An overnight ice age!” she voiced. “How long will it take for Chakotay and his family to notice the nuclear winter.”

“It’s difficult to tell, since different parts of the planet are moving at different rates, and are in different time periods. But, according to the computer, it could be as soon as tomorrow morning, our time, if it hasn‘t already begun.”

“Estimate?”

“Six months, at the most.”

“Long term projections?”

Harry hesitated. “With the temperature dropping to almost 30° below zero, not very long..”

=/\=

Haj woke to the soft sounds of busy hands. She opened her eyes and turned her head to found Chakotay making something.

“What are you making?” she asked in her own tongue.

“Boots,” he replied in kind.

“Boots?” she queried, not understanding. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and gazed at the items in his hands.

He held one up for her to see. He had his left hand totally encased in a piece of sloth-bear pelt, inside out, and sown along the line of his thumb. The long piece of dried omi gut lace hung down on both sides, along with the two edges of the fur-lined boot still to be gathered together. “These will fit our feet and keep us warm,” he explained.

“The fur is on the inside,” she noted.

“That’s right. It will trap the warm air close to your feet, and the water proof hide will keep the water and cold out.”

“How long do we have before we have to leave?” Haj asked.

Chakotay lifted his eyes from his work and looked at her. He could see the sadness in her face, the fear and uncertainty. He cupped her cheek. “Don’t be afraid, Haj. I’m here. We will need to leave in less than a week, before the worst of the weather hits.”

“More of that white stuff,” she groused softly.

“A lot more,” Chakotay agreed.

“Where will we go?”

“South.”

Haj gasped. “The Hukdan . . .”

“Don’t worry, Haj. I intend to avoid their area altogether, if not as much as possible. Then we have to build a catamaran.”

“Catamaran?”

“A boat. A vessel to cross the sea with.”

Again she sucked in a breath. The idea was totally alien to her, more so than wearing boots. She shivered as Chakotay added another log to the fire burning in the oven. He lifted a cup of warm hoqi juice to her and she drank gratefully. “We will need clothing, like the ones you were wearing when I captured you . . .”

“No, not captured,” Chakotay interrupted gently. “You rescued me. I’ve not thought that of you for over a year now.”

Haj grinned.

“Yes, we will need clothing. Probably a lot of clothing. I’ve accounted for a set each, boots, pants, tunic and an anorak with a hood. And then there’s gloves.”

“Gloves?”

“Boots for our hands,“ he said. “It will take most of our preparation time making them.”

“Will we have enough fur?”

“I have worked out that another large sloth-bear will be enough.”

“What about carrying our food and belongings?”

“I’ve already felled a few trees to make a travois.” He could see that she was unfamiliar with that term too. “It’s like a pack, but you drag it behind you on shaped logs. I’m going to fix lianas to one end and I’ll do the hard work.”

“You don’t want me to help?”

Chakotay gently smiled. “Not with pulling the travois. You can help with making our clothing.”

“Why am I not pulling the tra’vois?”

“We talked about this, remember? I don’t want you carrying to much.”

Haj looked at him blankly.

Chakotay leaned closer to her placing a hand on her stomach. “You’re carrying my child, Haj. You’re not to pull the travois, ok?”

She covered his hand with her own. “A baby?”

“Yes,” he grinned.

Haj smiled back and suddenly flung her arms around him, kissing him. They pulled apart and looked at each other. Until that moment she had not known, until he had said the words it had not been real to him either. “How do you know?” she asked.

“Just before I left I used my medicine tools to find out if you were ok after the Hukdan had taken you. You were badly bruised. I had to be sure you were ok. I also wanted to find out why you were sick.”

“It wasn’t your tools,” she told him. “I know that now.”

“I know,” he said. “But I thought it was the silent killer, the radiation that’s now destroying this world.”

“Is it?”

“No, thank the spirits. But there is a baby growing inside you, and that’s what was making you sick.”

“I hate being sick.”

“I know,” he replied. “Hot hoqi juice, mixed with some herbs I found, will help. Do you feel better?”

Haj nodded. “Yes, much better. Thank you.”

They kissed again, long and slow. Boots forgotten, they lay back on the furs and made love, slowly and gently.

Much later, Haj helped Chakotay finish her boots, laced up the front of her lower legs to the knee. Wriggling her toes she decided that they did indeed feel much warmer. She helped him cut larger pieces to make boots for him. Overlapping the pelt over the bridge was the fiddly part, making the boot double-thickness at the edges to keep out the cold. Lacing the front part was simple, overlapping the fur a little to keep the inside dry.

“We will need more Omi,” Haj decided as her needle snapped.

Chakotay nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately for the omi the cold weather is killing them by the hundreds.” A squealing outside alerted them to a commotion. “The trap. I’ll be right back.”

Picking up a thick wooden club and a surgical laser he went outside. Shivering a little at the temperature difference, he looked out across the dying swamp.

He could see immediately what was making the noise. A very large sloth-bear was caught by the foot in the trap he had set at dawn. It had been lured in by the smell of a large pile of fresh omi eggs, which had been abandoned when their mother had died during laying them. Chakotay had not wasted the opportunity. He had gutted the omi, and used the eggs to lure the sloth-bear. Two items that they needed.

The sloth-bear was bellowing loudly. He would have to dispatch it quickly, or the trap would be useless for catching another one, either that or it would attract the se’ilsey, and that meant losing the precious hide.

Quickly descending, he ran across the cold moss, hearing the frost under his feet. He stifled the yelp. There was another reason to hurry with his boots. Frostbite.

He approached the beast who turned on him in fury, it’s left hind leg caught in the liana trap that had it hanging from the tree. “Whoa!” Chakotay exclaimed as a large paw made a swipe for his chest. He jumped back to avoid being split open like a ripe fruit. The sloth-bear lunged on it’s front two paws that only just touched the ground. It decided that it would kill Chakotay and lunged with it’s large head and triangular teeth only to be stopped short by a fierce bludgeon to the head.

A short sharp plunk was enough to leave the animal hanging by the leg, quite dead.

“I’m sorry,” Chakotay told the beautiful beast. “But this is better than slowly starving to death.” He pulled the heavy carcass, swinging it across as far as he could get it, away from the eggs, and untied the rope. Again he thanked the brilliant human mind who had invented pulleys. Without them, he would never have been able to move the beast.

A cry afar off told him that he was not the only ears to have picked up the noise. Not wasting time he reset the trap and got to work skinning the animal before the pelt was ripped to pieces by sharp teeth. He had barely pulled the pelt clear when the first se’ilsey arrived. Chakotay watched it warily. It eyed him just as warily. Taking a tentative step forward, it growled low in it’s chest, as if to say, ‘I‘ll take this if you don‘t mind’. Chakotay knew a warning when he heard one and he backed off before the threat became realised.

The sun was beginning to make headway with the cloudy sky and warmed the air a little. Good, was Chakotay’s first thought. They would need the sun to dry the pelt. He rushed back to the tree and called to Haj. She appeared a moment later.

“Secure a rope and throw the other end down to me,” he said.

Haj could see him shivering and hurried to comply. The end landed on Chakotay’s head, much to Haj’s amusement. Chakotay tied it round the pelt and climbed up. They both pulled it up and draped it across the spread of branches. They went inside then, to warm up. A hot meal and a warm by the fire was enough.

Chakotay rubbed his cold toes and spied the newly finished boots off to one side. He smiled and kissed Haj. “You finished them,” he said. He reached over and pulled them on. “Ah, wonderful.”

“Are they good?”

“Better than good, my love.”

Haj glowed with the praise. “I have cut the fur into two more pieces, but the last needle broke. I will have to get another flint as well. It split.”

“I don’t think we have the time, Haj,” he replied with a slight cautionary note.

“What should we use?”

“This,” he replied, opening his hand to show her the laser. “I’ll cut the pelt, and you can sew the pieces.”

“We need more omi.”

“I’ll get them. They’re dropping like flies.” Chakotay, now wearing boots disappeared out the flap and returned less than three minutes later with two lizards. He chuckled at the ogling expression on Haj’s face. “You get to work on these and I’ll clean the new pelt.”

Haj nodded. Chakotay picked up the broken flint and went outside. Scraping the pelt was a simple task, if it weren’t to the sheer size. With the cleaning done he left the pelt out to dry, the sun had become quite warm. By morning it would be ready to use.

Chakotay thought more about the boat. They would need a sail, which meant another task to perform. It would require scraping both sides of the hide. Or perhaps not, he decided eyeing the small fire just visible in the opening. He could singe the fur off. They did not have the time to weave cloth, or even look for cotton or woolly animals with which to make thread to weave. A skin sail was their only option.

Leaving the pelt to dry he went back inside to investigate the wonderful smell that was coming from inside. Omi meat was cooking on the small oven, a replica of the one Chakotay had made. He had found it under the moss when the water level had dropped in places. The swamp hadn’t dried up, it was simply that the tide had ceased coming in so far into the area. Chakotay guessed that the sea levels had dropped dramatically. The fresh water streams still flowed through the trees, but it was not enough to keep the trees, and the animals that depended on them, alive. They were living on borrowed time.

=/\=

Hanging up the omi gut to dry took over an hour. They cooked and salted steaks, and looked over their supplies. There were now eight water pouches full of water, with four more still drying by the door. One pouch of salt, four boxes of fruiting trees. He gazed at them, still not amused that Paris had fetched them, disobeying Kathryn’s direct order not to interfere. He wondered if Tom had spent time in the brig for the misdemeanour. He would never know.

He sighed to himself and felt Haj‘s arms encircle him. He hugged her in return. “We have to hope that it rains before we leave,” he said. “We need hoqi.”

Haj nodded against his chest. “Look how much I have done,” she invited.

Chakotay could see several furs piled up for their bed, and the omi were no where to be seen. The large pelt had been rolled up and left to one side ready to be cut into pieces. The place looked like a fur hunter’s stock post. “Well done, Haj. You have worked hard. Now, you rest. I’ll serve dinner.”

She sat down and he fed her omi meat and hoqi. Once filled, she took the plate and fed him. And as he ate, he told her what to expect. There was worse to come. Much, much worse.

Falling asleep early from their exertions, they awoke with the dawn. Cuddling under the fur blankets they held each other, stealing themselves for the cold day ahead. Chakotay rose first and lit the fire, warming the tree cave before allowing Haj to join him.

Eating a breakfast of grubs and fruit they set about cutting the pelt into pieces. Haj had already decided to sew the pieces rather than lace them together. Over lapping each piece and threading the omi gut through in parallel lines.

The sun cut through the low cloud earlier that day, lending the air a warmer feel, although the ambient temperature stayed the same. Chakotay went out to check the traps. The se’ilsey were still eating the carcass of the sloth-bear, and the trap there was empty. The eggs, however had been eaten. Slightly disgruntled, Chakotay went to find fresh eggs and set up another trap. First he decided to check on his travois poles.

Before he had gone very far he saw a large grey shape lying on the mossy ground. The moss was still green, which meant there was water beneath it. The grey shape did not move as he approached. Carefully walking around the animal’s back he came to the creature’s head end. There was still no movement. Chakotay frowned.

Deciding on a less than scientific method, he picked up a small stone from between the moss and threw it at the sloth-bear. It hit the massive shoulder and there still was no response. Totally baffled by the unexpected windfall, Chakotay was understandably giving it the eye. The reason for the sloth-bear’s death could be far more sinister than the club in his hand.

Leaving the prize untouched he stepped round to the underbelly and stopped short, gasping in surprise. The sloth-bear had not been alone. It had two cubs, both of which were also dead. He would need help with this, but first he would need answers.

He turned and ran back towards the Haj’s tree and climbed up. “Haj?”

“Yes?”

“I need your help,” he told her as he crossed to the shelf to fetch the phaser and tri-corder.

“What’s wrong?”

“I found three dead sloth-bears, a mother and her cubs.” Haj’s eyes lit up. “The problem is,” he continued. “I don’t know what killed them. I need to be sure that whatever killed them isn’t going kill us, if we take the pelts.”

“Very wise, my husband. I’ll join you.”

Together, they returned to the bodies. There was no sign of sickness, no radiation poisoning and no signs of a fight with a predator.

“What is this?” Chakotay suddenly said, looking at the whirring screen of the tri-corder. “They were shot.”

“Shot?”

The tri-corder bleeped louder still. Chakotay quickly shut it off and gazed around him frightened. “Oh hell!” he muttered. “We better not use the tri-corder again.”

“Why? What is it?”

“Damn! We’ve got bigger problems than just the changing weather.” Chakotay eyed the swamp with growing dread and suspicion. “Let’s get the pelts and get home.”

“My husband, you’re scaring me.”

Chakotay turned to her and cupped her cheeks before holding her close. “I’m sorry, Haj. I didn’t mean to, but the reason these bears are dead is enough to put the fear in me.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. “What makes Cha’kotay so afraid?”

He looked down at her large green eyes and swallowed. “The Borg.”

=/\=

“The Borg scout ship is re-entering the Transwarp corridor, Captain,” Kim announced.

“About time,” she huffed crossly. “Exit the nebula at your pleasure, Tom.”

“And a pleasure it is too, Captain,” he intoned.

The grey-blue ship shot out of the sparkling gas cloud, electrical discharges snapping at its heals as it went. Once clear, Voyager returned to the planet.

“How much time have we lost?”

“No more than three hours, five minutes,” Tuvok replied.

“Three hours can be a lifetime down there, Tuvok. I want specifics.”

“Aye, Captain. According to atmospheric changes, only three days have passed.”

Tom turned his head to look up at Janeway. “Does that mean the temporal misalignment is correcting itself?”

“I hope so, Tom.” She opened a channel to Engineering. “B’Elanna, recommence the clean-up operation.”

There was a slight pause. “We’ve hit a snag, Captain.”

“A snag?” Janeway frowned. It was a term she had yet to come across.

“It’s a 20^th century term,” Tom supplied.

“Why am I not surprised?” Janeway returned rolling her eyes. “What kind of snag?”

“We can’t stop the radiation, or reverse the damage it’s causing to the environment. In fact, according to the scans we just conducted, our efforts have merely amplified the problem.”

Janeway sank inside. “What does that mean for . . .” She almost said his name. “For the inhabitants?” she amended.

“It appears that intervention by Voyager has healed the temporal rifts, but it’s had a knock on effect. It means they will experience a very sudden nuclear winter, whereas if we had left well alone, they would not have noticed the changes for another seven million years.”

“How sudden?”

“In three hours,” was the reply.

Janeway closed her eyes and let out a tremulous breath. “Is there anything we can do, B’Elanna?”

“I’m sorry, Captain. There’s nothing we can do. We just don’t have the power, or the equipment.”

The silence was long and broken only by Harry Kim‘s small thin voice.

“That’s not the worst of it, Captain.”

Without moving a muscle, Janeway merely said, “Let’s have it.”

“There is a meteor on a direct collision course for the Huk system. It will hit the planet in five Earth months.”

Tom turned in horror to look up at their captain. “We have to do something.”

=/\=

Haj had helped skin the animals in silence. She did not know what Borg was, but if it made Cha’kotay tremble in fear then it was bad. She sat scraping the pelt clean for several hours, watching a fearful Chakotay threading and tightening the cut pieces together. In his haste to be done, he had missed several holes, for the third time, and had to go back.

After the forth attempt, gentle hands still his and he looked up. Haj looked at him directly in the eye.

“We have finished for today,” she announced.

“Haj . . .”

“No arguments. I am woman, you are man. You will obey.”

Chakotay suddenly laughed. She had said that to him the first day they had met. He had since learned that men were supposed to make the babies and protect the family. Women did all the work and made the decisions. Tension released, Chakotay kissed her tenderly, but he could tell she was far from relaxed. “Sweet Haj, What’s wrong?”

“I want to know what it is that makes you so afraid. What is Borg?”

“The Borg are the true demons of light and noise. They are like honeybees, but they don’t make honey to eat. They kill living beings like you and me, in their millions. Whole planets are dug up and cleaned out by them.”

“How do you know this? They could be lost, like Cha’kotay was.”

“Haj, listen to me. I know the Borg. They captured me once. I was lucky. I escaped.” Not exactly true, he was rescued, but the facts he gave Haj would suffice. “They aren’t like you and me. They have metal inside them, and black suits covering their bodies. And red lights for eyes. They will kill us both if they find us, and they will take our baby and they will make it like one of them. They will make us like them.”

“They won’t! I won’t let them. I will fight!”

“Haj, you won’t have a choice. They take your mind from you. When they take you all you know is thousands of voices inside your head.”

“Stop this.”

“When you wake up you won’t be Haj, you’ll be just a machine of metal and obedience . . .”

“Stop!”

“You won’t be able to stop them. They’ll make you do the same to others, and make more beings to look like them . . .”

“Stop it!”

Chakotay watched her cringe into a ball, softly crying. Slowly he took her into his arms. “I’m sorry, Haj. But, I now what they do. I know what they are. If they‘ve been here once, it‘s very likely that they will come back.”

“What do we do? If we can’t hide, we have to run.”

“And we’ll do just that. I’m almost finished with your tunic. I can finish your pants tonight. In the morning we’ll make my clothes and start on our coats. We can be gone from here in four days.”

“What about your tools. Won’t they know that they are here?”

“I’ve had them masked, to avoid any detection. Plus the radiation cloud probably hid them from the Borg sensors.”

“Sensors?” Haj frowned. “That’s the eyes that see beyond sight?”

“That’s right.”

“If they had found your tools, we would be dead now,” she realised.

“Yes. They could come back. If it was a small scout ship, there would only be a crew of ten at the most. If they send a full ship, there will be thousands.”

“Let’s keep working. I want to go.”

Chakotay smiled slightly. It was the first time he had heard her speak positively about leaving. It was not necessarily a good sign.

By later afternoon, they were both exhausted and a light drizzle had begun to fall. They ate a hot meal and slept for a while, waking to the sound se’ilsey fighting outside. At least they thought it was. Cautiously they peered out of the tree cave to see several strange beasts. The woolly monstrosities sported horns down their entire backs, and had faces akin to buffalo, but had horns like a rhinoceros. There were ten of them, all in a tight huddle protecting three smaller ones. The reason for their protective stance was obvious. Two predators, looking like a cross between a hyena and a sabre-toothed cat, with an elephant‘s trunk, circled their quarry, testing them every now and then for weaknesses.

“What are they?” Chakotay whispered.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I have never seen them before.”

“I hope they leave soon. We will not get very far against predators of that strength and size.”

Haj looked at the clothing lying on the floor. “I’m cold.”

Chakotay moved away from the door flap and pushed more wood onto the fire. “Let’s get these clothes on and start work on the coats. It looks like it’s going to rain tonight.”

Dressing in clothes for the first time in her life, Haj felt strange. The furs were comfortable and warm, but felt strange against her skin.

“They are too big,” she noted quietly.

Chakotay grinned. He showed her the extra ties he had added to the sides of her pants. “I put them in so that it will still fit as the baby grows,” he told her.

Haj smiled. “What will the baby look like? Me or You?”

“Both of us,” he replied. “Your beautiful green eyes, and my black hair.”

“Or your beautiful dark brown eyes, dimples, and my hair,” Haj decided.

“Dimples?” he teased. “I don’t have dimples.”

“You do. You have lots of them.”

Chakotay grinned, giving her the full show. Making love in their clothes was also going to take some getting used to.

=/\=

Dawn the following day found them already up and sewing hoods onto fur-lined coats. The weather was getting colder still. Finally Chakotay could not wait any longer. Leaving Haj to sew mittens for them both, he climbed down to collect hoki fruits before the threatened snow could fall. They were abundant, even with the cold and drying swampland. Filling a bag, he watched for trouble.

There wasn’t a sound, or a movement anywhere. His tracking skills told him that silence was not always a good thing, and the moment the bag was full he made his way back to the rope ladder. He breath frosted the air as he was certain he could see movement in his periphery. Not daring to look down, he clambered up. Reaching the branch, a large animal made a swipe at him from behind. It barely touched him, but left claw marks across the bark of the branch.

“Spirits!” he yelped as he turned to look. One of the hyena-cats was directly below him, it’s proboscis nose pulled back into a sneer. This time it was close, next time could be fatal. Chakotay realised that they would need protection.

Inside the cave he paced a little. He could use an electro-magnetic pulse from the tri-corder to keep the creatures away, but it would risk detection by the Borg. Which fate was worse? He could carry his club with him whenever he went out, but he had no wish to just kill them willy-nilly.

“What is it, my husband?”

“Hyena-cat nearly made you a widow. We’ll need something to protect us. . .but what?”

“My father once wore a coat of spikes to keep the se’ilsey away.”

Chakotay turned his head to look at her. He knelt down to where she sat making hoqi tea and kissed her. “Have I ever told her that you are the most intelligent wife I have ever had?”

Haj blushed. She tried to smother the giggle, but it didn’t work.

“What’s so funny?” he inquired softly.

“I am the only wife you ever had.”

“Oh,” he grinned, chuckling along with her. “So you are.”

Haj quickly cut strips of fur and pushed sharpened saplings through making a very effective defence. Chakotay was impressed as he carefully looped it over him, leaving sharp spines over his shoulders, across his back and chest, and his stomach and lower back. Haj fashioned one for her self, and they set off to retrieve the trees Chakotay had felled several days before.

=/\=

“Any change in the meteor’s trajectory?”

“None, Captain,” Kim replied.

Tom sighed. “Would it make any difference if we all got out and sneezed at it?”

“Mr Paris’s wit notwithstanding, he have exhausted all options,” Tuvok noted, his Vulcan way of saying, ‘you tried your best, let it go‘.

Kathryn gazed sadly at the view screen, the mighty tail of the meteor streaking across the void away from the star, and in the background was the world it was going to smash into. And there was not a thing they could do about it.

=/\=

Chakotay tested the travois, checked the ropes, and finally he was satisfied that they were ready. Smiling at Haj, he hefted the liana ropes and began to pull. Heavy though it was, the smoothed undersides of the sled runners glided across the snow-covered landscape.

In their wake hungry mouths drooled, but stayed away, knowing the agony that accompanied such a tasty-looking morsel. After an hour of following the two humanoids the hyena-cats resumed their hunt for more mouth-friendly prey.

Chakotay knew the way, although he had never taken this route before. He followed the sun. It would take them six days to reach the edge of the swamp, where the main channel of the river flowed through the swamp to the sea.

That night they slept in the open. The furs kept them warm, but barely. After a brief pause in the weather, the snow began to fall again, and this time did not stop.

Into the second day they met with the cold front. Thankfully their hoods kept out the worst of it. Haj kept up with Chakotay as best she could, but it was too much. With the winds picking up, and a blizzard blowing, they stopped for the night, and the next two days.

Digging their way out of the snow into warm sunshine was a new experience for Haj. Snow was a new concept to her, especially this deep. They continued on, feeling the warm sun, and watching the snow melt a little as they walked. That night brought a rumble of something more menacing. Jolted out of sleep, Chakotay sat up. Haj shifted beside him.

“What was that?” she almost cried out.

“Earthquake. According to the tri-corder, it’s a strong one, centring about 130 kilometres from here. We’re ok, for now. But we’re right in top of the fault line here.”

“Is that bad?”

“It could be very bad.”

Haj lay down beside him, and did not sleep the rest of the night. In the morning, she had barely fallen asleep when Chakotay rose to begin the journey. He looked at Haj lying there, and smiled. He kissed her and left her on the sled. Taking up the lianas again, his breath dusting the air, he pulled Haj and the supplies. She woke up several minutes later and called out to her husband.

Chakotay stopped. “Are you all right?”

“I just woke up. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m sorry I over slept. Now you have two sleds to pull.”

Chakotay sighed softly. “You’re not that heavy, Haj.”

“I feel it,” she bemoaned getting up.

“You’re only half way there,” he said helpfully, or unhelpfully if Haj’s sideways glance was anything to go by.

“My mother would have given birth by now,” Haj told him. “How long do women of your kind carry their babies anyway?”

Chakotay frowned. What she just said set something off deep inside him. What was it? A warning bell? “Nine months,” he replied.

He picked up the ropes and started out again. There was deeper water beneath the snow-covered moss now. They were nearing the river channel. But his mind was elsewhere. After walking for several hours, they stopped to get something to eat. Chakotay risked getting the tri-corder out again, the medical scanner told him that the baby was fine, twenty weeks gestation and no problems. So why was he worried? He couldn’t decide what the problem was exactly, just that something niggled at the back of his mind.

Haj took great interest in hearing the heart beating. With wide, fascinated eyes she gazed at the blip as it crossed the screen for several minutes. Chakotay put the tri-corder away and they decided to keep going for several more hours before stopping for the night.

Suddenly the ground shook beneath them, and the loud grinding of rock against rock, blocked out everything else. Haj screamed. Chakotay grabbed her, holding her tight, unable to do anything as he saw the earth open up a huge chasm that rush towards him. He closed his eyes, praying aloud for the Spirits to save them.

As abruptly as it started, the earthquake ended. Breathing heavily with fright, Chakotay slowly opened his eyes. He was still standing. How was he still standing? Carefully, he moved just his eyes, and looked down . . .and down . . .and down . . .

He slammed his eyes shut and shuffled Haj back a little, so that he was away from the edge and then risked taking a better look. “Oh sprits!” he exclaimed under his breath.

Haj lifted her head to look and saw the huge rend in the once flat swamp. Trees had fallen over the tear, and water, moss and snow followed soil down into the dark depths.

“We nearly feel,” Haj gasped. “We nearly fell!”

“It’s ok.”

“We nearly fell,” she whispered again.

“It’s ok, my wife, we’re safe.” Chakotay looked behind him, seeing were his footprints were left almost at the edge of the precipice. “Sweet Spirits,” he breathed. Taking another step away from the channel he looked down into Haj’s terrified face, and smoothed his fingers down her cheek. “It’s ok. We’ll find a safe place to cross and get away from it as quickly as possible. Ok?”

Haj nodded, her breath shallow. Seeing that she was hyperventilating he knew he had to act fast, or she would suffocate. He sat her down on the edge of the travois and held her.

“Haj, slow down. Nice and slow. Deep breaths, that’s it,” he soothed. She had faced many terrifying ordeals, but her world was changing too fast for her to adapt. Chakotay wondered if she or even either of them would survive this. They were truly alone. “That’s my girl. I love you. We’ll get through this. Ok?”

Haj nodded. Taking her hand, he took up the ropes again and moved along the precipice, searching for the end of it, so that they could continue westward towards the river. It was just about nightfall, before they found it and they slept uneasily that night.

Moving on again the following day, they turned westward. Their journey continued for another two days before the reached the edge of the swamp and entered forests of pine, or something similar, and the snow here was even thicker.

And they found another river. It was in full swell with the melt water. And worse, there was more snow on the horizon. Setting up camp, they found a defensible place inside a small but deep cave, and hid themselves away. There were signs of other Huk around, and the signs were not good ones. Shrivelled heads stuck on poles were enough to put the fear of the Great Spirit in Chakotay, as well as Haj.

“Who are they?”

“Hukawan,” she told him. “They eat meat, Huk meat. Those heads are of Hukdan. Cha’kotay, we could be attacked by either tribe. We have to get out of here.”

“We will, Haj, but first we need a boat to take us down river and out to sea.”

Haj swallowed down her fear and nodded.

=/\=

Chakotay rose with the sun and began his work by finding the right size trees. There was a fairly large tree near to their resting place, three meters in diameter. After felling it with the flint axe he had fashioned, he looped a liana around it and dragged it back to the camp. For such a large tree, it was light-weight wood. He hoped it would be light enough to float, but sound enough to keep them safe on the sea.

He began shaping the front end. It was almost evening before it was finished. He was beginning to wish he had kept his phaser as he sat down to eat, rubbing his aching arms.

“You work too hard, my husband,” she told him.

He smiled, enjoying the feel of her hands on his skin. He took hold of a hand and pressed it to his lips. Tenderly her pulled her towards him, and curled her into his lap. Stretching her legs out beside him she continued to knead his aching shoulders. Chakotay, in turn, massaged his other aching need against her body.

Even through their thick furs his erection was evident. He swept his hands up her back and kissed her tenderly. Her massage slowed to a whisper across his tunic. Breaking the kiss, Chakotay tossed a log onto the fire, warming the cave a little more before shifting enough to pull their paints off. Haj resettled in his lap, feeling him arch against her.

Lovemaking was swift, but tender, needing the protection of their clothing to stave off the effects of the cold.. As Haj slept, Chakotay ran a hand over her belly, noting that it was already very pronounced. The child inside kicked and fidgeted. He smiled.

A glint in the firelight made him look up. A small silver and black object appeared from no where. It slid onto the floor of the cave, knocking something else down with it. Carefully he rose to find a phaser and a small PADD. Picking them up, one in each hand, he looked at the phaser before activating the message.

Chakotay switched off the PADD and sighed. So he was right, the Borg were still nearby. And Voyager must still be in orbit, of not in the area, he realised. “Kathryn,” he whispered. Sighing softly he hid the items, the phaser with in his clothing, and the PADD in his pack, and returned to Haj’s side. His former captain’s blatant disregard for the prime directive worried him no small amount. But, on the up side, he would have the boat finished in a few days rather than weeks. The sooner they were out of here the better it would be.

On the second day, he had a feeling he was being watched the moment he stepped out of the shadows. And he saw him, between himself and the cage. He was eyeing the carved log with interest. His attention switched to the tree it had been sliced off of.

Chakotay had decided to switch tactics. Instead, he had cut the bark free completely and sealed the ends closed with the phaser and heated pine sap. Then he had strengthened the canoe with cross bars at intervals, and placing a large wedge of wood at either end and a continuous block along the entire length, one on each side, just inside the rim. He had gone back into the woods to find four more trees. He had been bringing one back with him when he had the feeling of not being alone.

He had left Haj inside the cave, protected against the cold and possible attack. The entrance was difficult to see, unless you knew it was there. Chakotay had hidden it well in what looked like a natural collapse of rocks and dirt. The humanoid was clearly Hukdan, and had his back to Chakotay.

Chakotay looked round to find something with which to frighten him away. He spied a small rock. Hefting it, he threw it at the man. With a loud grunt of pained consternation the big oaf turned, only to find a branch being shoved in his face. A branch would have been a simple matter, except for the fact that it was on fire. The terrified primitive yelped in fright and ran away down the hill and dived into the head waters as the tide continued to rise. Chakotay threw the branch down and kicked dirt on it to put out the flames.

With only passing interest he wondered about the in-coming tide. It had been steadily rising all morning, rather than rising for a few hours and then receding. The river was already in fully swell with the melting snow. Now the brown river water swirled in eddies mingling with the inrushing blue-green of the tidal water, almost bringing them both to a standstill.

Dragging the felled tree closer to the part-built catamaran, his first thoughts were for Haj. Sliding into the purpose-built ’rabbit hole’, he found her safe and sound, checking the scraped skin they would be using as a sail, and the lengths of liana they had collected prior to leaving the tree cave.

“What is it?”

“Hukdan. I scared him off. Are you ok?”

Haj nodded. “Back hurts. This baby is very heavy.”

Chakotay kissed her tenderly. “When I get finished, I’ll rub your back, ok?”

“Ok,” she replied.

Carefully he exited and continued his work. Cutting the tree into two, he then quickly shaped them into the solid balances they would need for their voyage. Tightening the beam on the phaser a little further he carved loops into the solid wood, one at each end. That done he checked the seals on the main section and turned his attention to cutting a hole through the solid wood at the rear. Calculating the length of wood he would need for the tiller he set off to find the rest of the lumber he needed.

By late afternoon he dragged two sturdy saplings and two medium-sized branches back to the cave. In the slanted light, he could see clouds gathering. A storm was getting up. Time was running out. Lifting his head he sniffed slowly and deeply. There was the smell of snow in the air.

Warily he cast his eyes about him, but he was alone. He hoped the following day would be the same.

=/\=

They watched the huge chunk of rock and iron hurtling through space, and no one had any ideas. They had gone through the list of suggestions, some more ludicrous than others. All had failed. B’Elanna’s head sank to her chin as she sighed.

Janeway sat in her seat and came to a decision. “I think it best if we simply observe. There is nothing else we can do.” She swallowed dryly. “For the record, our obligation to Chakotay, the former first officer of the USS Voyager, has been rescinded in light of our conclusions that to interfere will worsen the planet’s already ailing ecosystem, and lessen the inhabitants’ chances of survival. Voyager will remain here to observe the meteor’s impact on the already strained planetary environment. Dismissed.”

The officers filed out in silence.

“Did you see the state she was in,” Tom commented as he and B‘Elanna walked down the corridor towards the turbo-lift.

“Yes, and as much as I hate to say it, she’s right. We’re condemning Chakotay and his wife to a slow and horrible death, but if we interfere we will effectively be executing them.”

“Sometimes a quick death is more humane,” Tom put in and B‘Elanna agreed. “I’m worried about the captain. She’s been through so much already. How is she going to survive leaving Chakotay behind?”

“Were they really that close?”

“Closer. They only reason they weren’t together was protocol.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve spent time with her, B’Elanna.”

“When?”

“During the warp 10 experiment.”

B’Elanna looked up at him. “I thought you said you couldn’t remember much.”

“I told the captain that to save her any embarrassment, B’Elanna. I mean we . . .” he looked around them in case anyone was close by. “We had sex and we had offspring together. She told me everything. Her life, what she thought of Chakotay, how she felt about him, how she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way.”

“But that was years ago.”

“I know, and we can only speculate what went on, on New Earth.” Tom pressed the lift call button and they waited.

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“She needs a friend, but not just any friend.”

B’Elanna gazed at him. “What are you looking at me for?” She slowly sighed. “All right, I’ll talk to her. I’ll do what I can, but I don’t expect miracles.”

“‘Do what you can’? She’s not a fractured warp core, B’Elanna.”

“Oh? She‘s stubborn enough.”

=/\=

Chakotay looped the lianas over his shoulder and went outside. The ground had been rumbling all night and he had decided to play it safe. After earthquakes there were almost always tidal waves. Securing a liana to both stabilisers, he tied them to a sturdy looking tree. He then looped another liana through the hole he had cut for the tiller and tied that to another tree.

Thus secured, he set to work carving the tiller from one branch, leaving a hole at one end. The rudder he cut from the remnants of the first tree. It was thick, at one end and slender at the other, the whole piece being one solid lump of wood. Checking the thickness of the shaft against the hole cut in the tiller, he set them aside.

All that remained was the mast and cross bars. The cross bars he fashioned whole from the forty foot heartwood of yet another large tree. He was half way through cutting the mast free, when the ground beneath him shifted violently. For several seconds he lay curled up in a ball, hoping nothing fell on him. Then the world went still. Cautiously he looked about him and got up.

“Haj!”

At a run he made for the cave, only to find the rabbit hole collapsed. Digging it would take hours and Haj could be suffocated by then. He grabbed the phaser and risked vaporising the dirt. He scrabbled into the cave. “Haj? Haj?”

He found her hiding beneath the sled, crying. He coaxed her out and held her. It was a long time before she was calm again.

“Don’t leave me,” she cried.

“It’s ok,” he told her. “I’m not leaving. It’s over.”

He sat with her for an hour or more before she was calm enough for him to leave. That’s when he heard it. The unmistakable roar of water - lots of water.

“What is that?” she asked.

Chakotay jumped to his feet. “Tsunami!” He edged closer to the cave entrance, holding her too him. As he suspected the sea was coming in, and it was coming in big-time. Eyes wide with fright, they watched the sea rush in up the river channel swamping both banks and climbing ever closer up the hill. It reached the boat lifting the three main pieces and carrying them off passed the cave. It was almost surreal as the water then stopped and then rolled a little before rushing back towards the river and the sea beyond, taking the half-built catamaran with it.

Dumping the boat upside down in a higgledy-piggledy manner, Chakotay feared he might have to start from scratch.

“Stay here,” he told her and carefully edged out across the sodden ground to where the boat pieces were moored.

The stabilisers were fine. The connecting bars were ripped off and the main boat was upside down. On righting it Chakotay found it undamaged, but inside lay the body of a porpoise, or something similar, obviously drowned in the swell. The sea had left more than the body of a porpoise. Further down the hill lay three Hukdan, also dead. The smell would no doubt bring trouble.

Chakotay ran back to Haj though the mud and deposits of sand, seaweed and broken trees. “The boat is mostly ok, but it will take me a day or two to clear a path down to the river bank.”

“How long until we can leave?”

“Another three or four days. Don’t worry. I won’t be far.”

“I will make us something to eat. I’m hungry.”

Chakotay smiled. “And I’ll get to work on repairing the connecting bars and then the mast.”

=/\=

Kathryn sat, trying to look objective, trying to convey an outward appearance of nonchalance. This was just another planet, nothing special about it, but the thought did not quite solidify. They had decided, or rather she had, that the observing can be done just as well on leaving as in staying.

“I’m therefore making the decision to break orbit and continue on a course for the Alpha quadrant.” Was that her voice? It sounded like someone had dragged it through a thorn bush, sideways.

She didn’t dare look at any of them. It was hard enough having looked at herself in the mirror that morning when she made the decision to effectively leave Chakotay to die. She sucked in a breath and continued.

“In the interests of morale,” mine included, she thought silently, “I’m taking the decision to break orbit and continue our journey towards home,” she said, not even realising that she had repeated herself. She hope her voice sounded steadier to her staff than it did to her. It wavered, not by much, but enough. Who was she kidding? It sounded dreadful.

She caught Paris’s look where he sat, and she knew by the gleam in his eyes that he was about to make a smart-ass remark.

“Captain, if I may speak freely?”

“I’m sure I speak for everyone here. I know how hard this has been for you. Leaving Chakotay behind has not been easy for any of us. But for you it’s been the hardest task of your life. I salute you, Captain. Letting go of someone you love like this . . .you have my sincerest, warmest regards. You have such strength and courage, ma’am.”

“Here, here,” someone chimed in softly. It sounded like B‘Elanna.

Kathryn struggled and then gave up trying to keep the tears from flowing. Without a thought for protocol, Paris rose and encircled his captain in his arms and held her while she cried softly. It was enough for Tuvok to retain a mere semblance of a stoic calm. Barely.

=/\=

Chakotay sat watching Haj’s face as he rubbed her back. She was getting bigger by the day, not by much, but it was certainly a struggle for her to walk. Being so small, he wondered how she would be able to give birth. She was now at 22 weeks gestation. Two weeks over due for a normal Huktreib pregnancy. She could go into labour at any time. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

Delivering babies was not his forte, mending internal injuries was definitely way out of his knowledge. He didn’t even know where to start. She had fallen asleep under his ministrations, leaving him fearful of the future, especially hers.

Nearby a bleeping caught his attention. He turned and picked up the communicator. “Chakotay here.”

“Chakotay? It’s Kathryn. How are you doing?”

“Hello, Kathryn. We’re doing well. The last earthquake caused a tsunami, but thankfully the boat was undamaged.” he paused for a second. “Thanks for the phaser, by the way. You do realise that was a breach of the Prime Directive.”

“It’s your phaser,” she countered. “I’m just returning it.”

Chakotay smiled, laughing softly through his nose. “That’ll hardly wash with Star Fleet Command, but it probably saved our lives.”

“When do you set sail?”

“Another two or three days. I need to rig the mast and load up first.”

“How is Haj?”

Chakotay hesitated. “Not good,” he replied. “She’s getting so big, Kathryn . . .I don‘t know. I’m getting a little scared. She’s 22 weeks, she should have given birth by now, according to her kind, but it’s half way for humans.”

“I’ll talk to the doctor about it. I’ll relay any information and advice he has to offer.”

“Relay?” He heard a thick sigh hiss through the communicator. “Kathryn?”

“We left orbit two minutes ago. There’s nothing more we can do. Is there anything I can get you?”

“Well, if you can stand a court martial, another phaser and a few power packs wouldn’t go amiss,” he replied. Several seconds later, a small Star Fleet issue backpack arrived a metre in front of him. He opened it and looked inside. The phaser and power packs were there, plus bags of rice, potatoes and three cereals were inside. Along with them was a packet of seeds marked ‘Talaxian tomatoes’ in Kathryn‘s own hand writing. “You had this already prepared, didn’t you?” he noted.

“Yes.”

“Does anyone know you’re doing this?”

“Not unless you tell them. I can’t leave you knowing that there is worse yet to come, and not have food to sustain you both. It‘s hard enough leaving you . . .”

Her voice trailed of.

“Kathryn,” he said softly. “Don’t take this so hard . . .please? I made my choice.”

“I know, but you made it because of me. I pushed you away, and now I have to live with it.”

Chakotay could almost feel her tears. “Kathryn, this might be hard to understand right now, but it will become easier. I’ve always known that you love me. Your feelings are strong, Kathryn, and I’ve understood your reasons for not acting on them, and I agree with that, even though it were so hard to live with. You are and always will be my first love. I cherish every moment I have shared with you. There will always be that special place in my heart for you. Hold on to that. It’s yours, and always will be, long after I’m gone.” He swallowed. “Promise me, Kathryn, that you will never forget.”

“I promise,” she replied. “I too understand a few things, although it was difficult at first. I truly believe that your decision to stay with Haj was noble and brave. I’ll miss you, my angry warrior.”

“And I you, my brave, wise and very beautiful warrior woman.”

He thought he heard her laugh. He knew she thought herself as wrinkled and a little saggy around the edges now that she was pushing towards middle age. Women and their pride, he smiled. “We will see each other again, in the Happy Hunting Grounds.”

“I was hoping for something a little more alive than that,” she replied, brokenly. She sniffed.

“I know. I wish you well, Kathryn.”

“And I you.”

=/\=

Chakotay slept until dawn. Haj was already getting breakfast when he opened his eyes to be greeted with her smile and morning kiss.

“Morning, my husband. The sun is almost up.”

“Morning, my love. How are you feeling?”

“I’m ok,” she told him. “Here, I have hoqi and fruit for breakfast.”

“Thanks.” While he ate, he held her in his arms, hands across her belly, her back to his chest, savouring the feel of their child moving about. “Maybe I should take a look, and see if little one will come today,” he offered.

“I hope so, and I hope not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if baby comes, you can’t get the boat finished. But if baby doesn’t come, it will grow some more.”

“Hmm, good points, both of them. I will be done by high tide tomorrow, I think. We can be gone by evening.”

“Oh, good.” Eyes closed, Haj let him kiss her hair, and work down towards her ear. “I better let you get the boat finished, or we will still be here in three high tides.”

Chakotay chuckled. “Another good point made by my beautiful wife.” Carefully he rose and kissed her cheek before making his way outside.

He looked the boat over, clearing out several leaves that had fallen into it during the night, plus the snow that had fallen. Once done he lifted the mast into place to make sure it was strong. The lower crossbar was finished, the upper crossbar needed more work with the phaser.

Once done, he turned his attention to the addition of other crossbars along the length of the canoe. He planned to secure the skins over the top to cover the inside, providing a dry place to sleep and eat, later that day. Removing the liana, he pushed the rudder up into the hole he had made and affixed the tiller to the top. It worked. During the previous evening, while Haj had slept, he had carved out a spare, just in case.

As he moved on to the next task, creating the hoist ropes and the anchor points for the rigging, he failed to notice three grey shapes sneak past him several metres away to his left. It was not until he heard Haj’s scream that he realised he was not alone. Picking up the phaser he ran back to the cave, only to be floored and left cold.

=/\=

Chakotay opened his eyes and shook the stars from his sight. He groaned and pushed himself up. Whatever hit him was heavy and solid. The clearing was silent.

“Haj?”

Getting up, he stumbled into the cave. It was deserted and Haj‘s clothing was left strewn across the cave floor. They had come for Haj. And it was the Hukdan. He could see their webbed footprints leading down the hill to the river. Picking up his club, and tri-coder from the sled, and his phaser where he had dropped it, he followed the prints. He had barely gone more than 100 metres when he found blood. Lots of it.

“Haj!” he almost screamed. Only a slither of his presence of mind reminded him not to judge a book until he’d read it. He opened the tri-corder and then noticed the second set of prints. The tri-corder told him the blood was all Hukdan. Haj had been at least whole when whoever they were had attacked.

He waved the tri-corder around in a wide arc, and his being filled with dread. He knew exactly who had Haj - the Hukawan.

Without another thought he started off along their trail of prints. He did not dare think that Haj was already dead. That possibility would not enter his mind, he would not let it. Following the river bank northward he could see blood here and there, mixed in with the mud.

The further he went the louder the sound became. He stopped, not having realised until that moment that he had been hearing it for a while. The sound of melodic drumming, and now that he was closer, he could make out whoops of a singing voice.

It was also getting dark.

He moved closer. There were ten small dwellings set up, not much larger than one-man tents. If he was right, this was a foraging party, and not the main tribal centre. He could count ten of them. He could be in luck.

Edging closer, using his fur and the encroaching dusk to mask his presence he stopped behind one of the pelt tents. Peering underneath he found it empty. Opening his tri-corder, the noise of the drums and singing blocked out it’s bleeping. Even so, he turned the volume down as far as it would go. Pity he couldn’t do the same with the phaser.

He hefted the club as the first Hukawan round the tent from the other side and swung the club with silent and deadly accuracy. The humanoid’s eyes were still open where he lay. The tri-corder told him that Haj was not more than five metres away, and she was alive - sort of.

There was a moaning coming from somewhere to his left, on the far side of the tent. Under the cover of darkness, he slipped across to the next tent. He peered out to find that no one had noticed him. Four Hukawan were busy gutting their food, three others were cutting it into smaller pieces, most likely to cook and carry it home for their families. One other was adding wood to a fire while the last one was turning a large pole over the fire, upon which the moaning being was tied.

“Haj!” Chakotay almost shrieked, but it came out only as a whisper.

That was it. His calm exterior snapped as his rage exploded. He fired on wide beam and saw them all fall to the ground.

Rushing forward he lifted the pole off of the fire and phasered the bonds loose. “Haj!” he cried. He held her to him, caught between his need to hold her and his need to be careful. Her cries had long since been reduced to tight, rasping moans when her throat had dried up. She was covered in burns and her hair was all but singed off.

The tri-corder told him that the child was alive, but he was practically helpless to save either of them. Laying her down as gently as he could he tore open on of the tents and pulled out a thick brown bear skin. He laid it out and laid her onto it.

Her cries were quiet, but almost worse than if she had been screaming in pain. Her eyes were barely open, and she did not respond to him. He doubted she even knew he was there. Wrapping the fur around her, he took out the tri-corder again.

No life signs. Damn, he had actually killed them all. He set it to scan continuously so that he could find his way in the dark, looped the club’s leather handle over his shoulder, and lifted Haj into his arms. He made off in the direction he had come as quickly as he dared.

By the time he reached the cave, the fire was out. Getting several rocks together, he fired at them lighting up the cave, and relit the fire the fire in the same way. Then he took out the med kit. Regenerating her scorched body could take days if not weeks, but he resolutely sat there, humming instrument in his hand, all night. And while he healed, he talked, to Haj; to the silent sentinel in the sky above his head, which relayed his every word to Voyager; to his father; to his spirit guide, and most of all to the great Spirit.

At dawn he was still working over her, still talking. The humming sputtered and died. Angrily he tore out the power pack and extracted the pack from the osteo-regenerator. He wouldn’t be needing that for a while. He hurriedly set the exhausted pack outside to recharge with the rising sun and got back to work.

Every hour he spooned a little water into her mouth, and gave her a shot of either sedatives, analgesics, saline or nutrients, in four hourly cycles. And so it went on. High tide came and went.

Taking a moment to take a swallow of water, Chakotay continued to sweep the regenerator across her burnt body, until the power pack gave out. Setting that one outside, he picked up the first one, it was barely three-quarters charged, but it would have to do.

The sun was setting when he took his second swallow of water. Haj was still unconscious. The medical scanner told him that she was in a critical condition. Both power packs were exhausted, but there was still 65% of Haj’s body to heal.

“What to do,” he muttered, knowing the communicator was still picking up his voice, but beyond caring. His eyes cast long stars at the cave around him and settled on the black pack Kathryn had sent him. He had an idea. Quickly grabbing the pack he pulled the zipper apart and rummaged inside. No medical power packs. “Damn!” he retorted. His hand pulled out a rhombus shaped object. It was a phaser power pack. “I wonder . . .”

Picking up the regenerator he twisted the body apart to reveal the inner workings. Pushing the connectors on the phaser battery as close together as they would go he pushed it into the regenerator barrel. The regenerator fizzed for a second and hummed, vibrating in his hand. “Oh, boy,” he whispered. “Not sure if this will work, my love, but I’ve connected a phaser battery to the dermal regenerator. This should help, at least.” He held it over her body and pressed the button. “It’s working,” he noted, with nothing short of surprise as well as relief. “Not exactly by the book, but who cares about books out here.”

The louder-than-usual humming was reassuring, and according to the tri-corder, the beam was 38% more intense that normal.

“Look, baby, momma’s going to be fixed up so much faster with a phaser power pack than with a medical unit.”

As if in response, his unborn child shifted.

“Oh Spirits, please don’t let her go into labour, not yet,” he prayed. “She’s too weak to survive.” Stopping his work, he gave her the next shot of analgesics, and sat back. He closed his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers. “I’m so tired. Need to eat,” he groaned.

He reached for the woven cask of smoked fish and took one out. They were no bigger than sardines, but they were tasty. Washing it down with a little water he set the tri-corder to wake him in an hour and dozed off.

=/\=

Chakotay woke suddenly, hearing the hiss of something hot on cold water. He looked out at the early dawn and saw a large hot rock land outside. It was the first dark omen of things to come. He guessed that a meteor had broken up, sending small parts of it’s bulk into the atmosphere as it‘s orbit decayed. Chakotay sighed. As if they didn’t have enough to worry about. Above his head, the clouds were thick and dark. There was a storm brewing.

“Spirits, I could do with some good luck right about now,” he whispered. He was not expecting a response, but he prayed nonetheless.

=/\=

“Evasive manoeuvres!”

They’re still coming.”

“Maybe,” Janeway voice darkly. “But I’m not finished yet. Ayala, photo torpedoes, full spread. Target these coordinates.” She punched a series of numbers into the central console and Tuvok raised an eyebrow.

The ship barely jolted as the bolts of lightening shot out of her underbelly and raced to strike at one specific point, a weak spot in the defence grid of the Borg cube. Seconds later, a series of explosions shook the cube ever deeper inside. Suddenly everything went still.

“Report?”

“Their shields are down. Their power grid is fluctuating.”

“What have we got?”

“Shields at 12%, impulse at 50%, main drive at only warp 2.”

“Tom, get us out of here. If that thing blows, I don’t want to be here to play catch.”

Voyager lifted her warp drive ‘wings’, and vanished into the distance.

=/\=

He watched the lightening outside, forking down to the ground and hitting several trees on the far side of the river. Despite the driving rain, the trees were aflame in seconds, but the rain won, quickly dousing the orange tongues. Several trees were torn from their roots in the high winds, and Chakotay again feared for the boat.

He turned to Haj, whose limp hand lay in his own. He feared more for her and their child, still growing within the warm cocoon of her body. Continuing her treatments for most of the day, he stopped only for the necessities of keeping himself alive.

It was three days before the storm abated, haling the end of a tortuous time of waiting. Chakotay silently rose and went outside to check on the boat. It was getting colder and he was anxious to be moving on. It was ok. Baling out the water he checked for leaks. The sun would dry it out, he decided and returned to the cave. He was running out of fire wood, but decided that heating the rocks would be safer than using the phaser to cut more logs. As the day wore on, he hardly left Haj’s side.

As evening approached, the temperature dropped yet again, plunging the forest into subzero temperatures. By dawn the world would be turned white with a blanket of snow. Keeping warm from then on would be difficult.

=/\=

Chakotay woke and sat up, frowning as to why the world was bathed in a silver light. Rising to his feet he went to the cave entrance and looked out. For a moment or two he thought his brain was playing tricks on him. For a few seconds after that he wondered if the sun, or perhaps the moon had changed their position in the sky. To the North, through the trees, a bright light shone down. Then his eyes widened as he realised what it was.

Rushing back into the cave he skidded to a halt and grabbed the tri-corder. “Oh Spirits!” he cried. “The meteor.”

Tapping a few buttons he extrapolated how long he had, and what to expect from the distance the cave was from the ground zero. Fire ball, flooding, earthquakes, ultrasonic blast front . . .

Chakotay thought for a moment. “Thirty-five minutes. Damn! We only have thirty-five minutes!” He paced a little and then had an idea. He had no idea if it would work, but it was their only hope against a fire ball. He picked up a phaser and fired at the ceiling several metres from the entrance turning dirt into stone, almost completely sealing them in. Keeping the tri-corder active, he lay down with Haj, and prayed.

Five minutes.

He opened his eyes and kissed Haj tenderly. “I love you,” he told her.

She remained unresponsive.

The tri-corder bleeped - impact. Within seconds several loud booms shook the world above him. In desperation he hunched over Haj, in an effort to protect her. The ground all around him shook violently enough to make him fear the entire cave would collapse and bury them alive.

It seemed like an eternity before the world was still again. He slowly lifted his head. Searching for the tri-corder. It lay on its side, whirring gently. He snatched it up and the screen told him that it was over. At least, the worst was over.

Chakotay found a phaser and fired at a few rocks, lighting up the space around him. The cave had partially collapsed, but nothing was broken or lost. Taking a phaser, he stepped over to the wall he had fused earlier. Cutting a small hole into it, he looked out onto a dead world. Trees had toppled, blasted flat further down the valley. He could now see right across the river and the sea beyond. Where there had once been land, there was now nothing but water and naked barren rock.

He stepped outside and too a closer look. The ground was soft, wet and gritty. He looked down. All around him in the grove of trees still standing were dead fish, porpoises and Hukdan. The trees that were standing looked normal on the side that he could see, turning he looked at the ones behind him - they were all chard and blackened. He realised that had he emerged from the cave just a few minutes earlier, he would have been under water. A few moments before that and he would have been burned to a crisp.

The world was completely silent. Not even bird song could be heard.

=/\=

Janeway watched on long range sensors as the planet slowly destroyed itself. “Report.”

“Within six Earth hours it will be uninhabitable, Captain,” Harry responded.

In silence she watched and she turned to Tuvok who stood beside her. He met her gaze and only his eyes shifted to those of Ayala at tactical. Without a word being spoken Ayala answered the question foremost on their minds.

“Still receiving the signal loud and clear. Chakotay is transmitting. He’s alive.”

Janeway turned back to the screen, the entire Bridge bathed in silence. Inside she cringed. She had hoped he would had been killed in the impact. It would have been kinder. “Let’s hear it.”

“ . . .Spirits! There’s nothing left. The fish are dead, the entire forest has been levelled. Haj? Wake up. Haj, please wake up. Ooooh, damn it! What is that . . .?” A tri-corder could be heard in the background as well as a loud hissing and popping sound. “Glass? There is glass falling from the sky. And the sky has gone dark . . .I may only have a matter of weeks to live, so I make my peace now. Kathryn! I love you!”

Tuvok signalled Ayala to shut it off. Only he had seen the captain freeze in her place. She had lost the power of speech, but more than that she had lost the man she loved. He was not dead yet, but he soon would be, and she was powerless to act. A single voice rose in the stillness behind her.

“Captain.”

She swallowed. She recognised Seven’s tone as one that meant what she had to say was bad news. Still she could not speak.

“The Borg vessel has changed course. It is heading straight for the third planet in the Huk system.”

As the news filtered through her already raw nerve endings, Kathryn sucked in a breath. “Tom. Turn the ship around. Best speed to . . .”

Her unsteady voice trailed off.

“Already on it, Ma’am,” he told her.

=/\=

Chakotay woke and stilled the bleeping that began a moment later. Something had woken him, but it had not been the alarm. He sat up and kept still. The ground shook a little, but not enough to concern him. The medical tri-corder told him that Haj was sleeping. The other tri-corder told him a different story.

They had company.

Voices rose from down by the river. Silently he rose, taking a phaser with him. Carefully he inched to wards the entrance and peered out. Three Hukawan hunters, complete with spears and clubs were talking animatedly as they made their way down river. No doubt they had gone out in search of their hunting party and found them all dead, or were trying to make sense of the devastation. Now they were out to find the person responsible - or were they simply looking for more food?

As it was, they passed right by him, not even knowing that he was there. Chakotay sighed with relief. Above him a thick plume of smoke billowed upward from a mountain some twenty kilometres away. The ground beneath him rumbled again. The volcano was active, and doing more than threatening. It was time to leave.

Behind him, Haj stirred and moaned. Chakotay rushed to her side.

“Haj?”

“Cha’kotay. I hurt.”

“I know. Lie still. Let me get you some water.”

She swallowed a little water and he get to work on the 40 or so per cent left of her body to heal. She flinched beneath the healing beam.

“Hush, now. Lie still.”

“What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“The Hukdan . . .they came in and grabbed me, and . . .” Haj turned her tear-filled eyes to his.

“The Hukawan killed them and took you. I killed them and took you back.” Haj began to cry. “Hush, now. It’s ok. Try to stay as quiet as possible. A group of Hukawan hunters are not far away. I’m going to finish the boat and load it up, ok? But first I have to heal this last patch of skin.”

“I hurt all over.”

“I know. I can only do so much with this regenerator. The rest will take time.”

“The baby?”

“The baby’s fine. You lie still and rest.”

“So cold,” she shivered.

Chakotay ran the beam over her a few more times and then switched it of. “There, that’s all I can do for now. I’ll help you get your clothes on. We need to do this slowly and carefully, or we could end up damaging the skin again.” He slowly pulled the Tunic over her head, but gave up, when it was causing more pain than he was comfortable with. She would need to move and stretch, which meant possibly tearing the skin apart. He sighed. “It’s no good. Wait for a little while.” He pulled a few more fur blankets over her and smiled a little. “It that better?”

“Yes,” Haj replied.

He kissed her and went outside to check the boat. It had been several days since the glass had rained down and he needed to check the damage. It was as he had left it, partially hidden in thick brush left behind by the tidal wave. After clearing away the fallen trees he decided to leave them on the ground, it would make it easier for him to get the boat down to the water. Apart from a little singeing, the boat was intact. He got down to work.

His task was to affix the furs to the roof of the central piece, making a cabin of sorts. Clearing out any debris he stretched out the first piece of fur and bonded it to the wood, over lapping it on the three sides. He trimmed it flush to the upper crossbar and singed off the fur to make a smooth surface for bonding the second piece onto. Before doing so, he decided that loading the catamaran first would probably be easier.

He turned his attention to the finishing touches; a loop cut into the solid wood block at the bow and stern, and two embedded hooks on each side of what would be the entrance. For the hooks Chakotay used his pick axes that he had made to help him climb the trees. He heated the wood and sank them in deeply leaving them to cool.

He gave the furled sail a quick once over where it lay folded on the ground along the length of the craft. The crossbars were still unattached. Threading them into their folded positions was an easy task, and took less time than lifting the mast into its trough along the side of the boat. With the liana ropes attached it was heavy, but not overly so. He then lifted the crossbars into the identical trough on the starboard side. Looping the top rope through the ring he had carved at the bow he threw the end back to the centre. He repeated the action with another through the aft loop. Drawing both ropes in towards the centre, he pulled watching with hopeful eyes as the mast lifted and slid into place. The crossbars sung up over his head, clattering joyfully against the mast as if singing out a wish to be off. Chakotay smiled to himself. It worked.

Two smaller ropes, made from split lianas, flapped freely around him. Securing the guy ropes to their respective hooks he grasped the thinner ropes of the sail and pulled. The sail fell open. That work too. Pulling them the other way he furled the sail and fastened the ropes.

Slowly releasing the guy ropes, he let the mast lower and gently rolled it into it’s resting place. Turning wooden latches along the side bars, he secured the mast and the crossbars into place with a satisfied sigh. Latches in place, he made his way back to the cave.

The ground trembled as he entered.

“The boat is almost finished. All I need to do is attach the furs and load our supplies.”

Haj smiled, relieved. “We can leave today?”

Chakotay nodded. “It’s looking good for another three days or so.”

She tried not to look disappointed. “I’m hungry.”

“Here. I made some soup earlier.” He carefully spooned a little into her mouth. She swallowed, wincing as the soup passed her sore throat. “Still sore?”

She nodded. “Are we running out of food?”

Chakotay hesitated. “Yes.” He let out a slow breath. “But if we cross the sea now, you won’t make it. You’re still very badly injured.”

“We go now.”

“Haj . . .”

“Please?”

Chakotay hesitated, knowing that she was right. “I’ll put the last furs on and load up.” Picking up three furs from the sled, he returned to the boat. Fixing the furs to the crossbars he left them to cool and set while he went back to the cave to dismantle the sled.

Haj shivered and Chakotay knew it was time to get her dressed. She would die of hypothermia otherwise. Easing the clothing over her head was painful, but necessary. And once the clothing was on, she felt much better.

“How do you feel?”

“Ok,” she replied.

“How about the baby? Any pain?”

“No. I’m getting so big,” she told him.

Chakotay gazed at her, and had to agree. She was looking like a woman at term, with twins. And she still had another 15 weeks to go. “I’ll get the travois into the boat and come back for the supplies.”

Carrying the saplings under his arm he dragged them out to the boat and lay them in the bottom. Taking two trips back and forth the food and water was loaded up. Leaving only Haj, the bear fur ’borrowed’ from the Hukawan camp and his pack, Chakotay laid out the rest of the furs in the bottom of the boat as a bed.

As he emerged a movement caught his eye. The Hukawan were back. Taking the risk of being discovered he dropped over the side of the boat onto the ground. He crouched low.

Dressed as he was, he knew that they would view him as an animal, and therefore easy prey. But he had no choice if he was to get to Haj, and his phaser, before they did. Making a made dash for the hole, he heard a shout behind him.

Disappearing into the cave he snatched up two phasers and fired just as one reached the hole. With loud screeching the rest ran off as the two closest dropped to the ground.

“What is it?” Haj called out softly, afraid to be heard.

“Hukawan. At least twenty of them.”

Chakotay hefted the pack and edged closer to the opening. With barely any warning he fired on a third and a fourth and a fifth. Then all went quiet. He knew they would storm the cave and he had to be ready. A third time faces appeared in the opening and he fired three times in quick succession. Two fell, the third was hit in the face. He dropped, writhed for a while and lay still.

Twelve left, Chakotay calculated. He hunkered down and counted the bodies he could see - eight. He hoped he had counted correctly.

He waited. For a long time, nothing happened. Then a spear shot through the cave entrance and pierced the back wall above Haj’s head. Chakotay gasped. No doubting that these hunters were formidable and accurate with deadly precision. Except they had missed. Then he came upon a cunning plan. With frightening realism, he let out a horrible howl of pain and fell silent. Lifting his phasers he waited. As predicted they came slowly into the opening and peered into the darkness.

“Boo!”

“Huh!”

He fired at point blank range, and then again as they dropped, and again, and again. He kept firing as he slowly stepped forward into the hazy sunlight. Until the last two were left standing. In sheer terror he stood there staring at them.

“I drew the line,” he told them. “And you crossed it. So I make my last stand here. Tell your people to find another food source . . .’coz we‘re leaving,” he finished quietly. He wondered if his communicator would translate the Huktreib words into their tongue. He would never know.

As one they turned tail and ran.

“How many messengers do you need for one message?“ he noted and raised his phaser. He aimed and then lowered it. He was not a vengeful man, killing was not in his nature. Shooting a man in the back was against everything he believed in. But he knew they had no such code of honour. They would be back.

Pushing the phaser into the waistband of his pants he went back inside, pushing the other phaser into his backpack. Haj was where he had left her, wide-eyed with terror. The last of his belongings on his back he turned to his wife.

“It’s ok,” he told her softly. “We have to leave now.” He carefully lifted her, hearing her muffled cries of pain, and carried her to the boat. Getting her inside was a struggle, but he managed it. Then jumping down he got behind the structure and pushed.

At first it didn’t move. Then slowly it rose a little before beginning it slow steady roll across the felled trees to the river bank below. Closer to the shore the mud was thick and threatened to suck him down. He pushed the boat out and slid into the water. Hauling himself aboard, he set the rudder down stream and caught the ebb currant.

Within minutes the churning waters carried them out into the newly formed bay. The wind blew off the land and Chakotay pulled on the guy ropes lifting the sail into position. Hoisting the sail the wind caught and carried them away. The further they went the more damage he could see.

Haj, sitting beside him, lifted herself up enough to gaze out at the sight of the rapidly vanishing land. The swamplands had all but vanished and nothing green remained. Several kilometres to the east the spit of land that had only protruded into the sea no more that fifty metres was now a kilometre long melted and re-hardened pinnacle of marble.

Haj cried softly at the sight of her destroyed home disappearing into the distance. Chakotay cupped her cheek.

As the last slither of land disappeared from the horizon, Haj finally fell asleep. Chakotay carried her into the sheltered part of the boat. And he, using a tri-corder, set a course due south. An unknown land of unknown dangers awaited them.

=/\=

“Position of Borg cube?”

“On the far side of the planet,” Harry replied.

“I need not remind you that if we can see them it stands to reason that they can see us,” Tuvok stated.

“I’m aware of that. Tom, I want us in and out as quickly as possible. I don’t care if you have to bend safety margins to do it.”

“On your command,” he responded.

“At your discretion,” she tossed back.

Tom, a fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants pilot, continued on their heading at warp six.

=/\=

The wind had died down somewhat several weeks into their voyage, and Chakotay took the time to sit with Haj, making her as comfortable as possible, healing her still painful skin. There was no land in any direction, and the sea was almost glassy. Unlike the previous week. A storm like nothing Chakotay or Haj had ever encountered blow up almost without warning, and had almost sank them. Chakotay had been glad that he had chosen to build a removable sail. They would have been lost otherwise.

Now, the wind was too quiet.

Chakotay lifted his head hearing a strange sound, a buzzing sound electrifying the very hairs on his neck. Getting up he headed to the opening to take a look, Haj followed. What they saw defied words. As they stood looking out they saw a beam of green energy lance down from behind the dust-darkened sky.

“Oh no,” Chakotay whispered.

“What is it?” Haj asked, suddenly very frightened.

“The Demons of light and noise,” he replied.

Haj turned her wide eyes up to him. “The Borg?”

“They’ve come back.”

“Do they know we’re down here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, otherwise they would have assimilated us by now, unless they don‘t consider two life forms a big enough target. Or maybe their ship has been badly damaged.”

“What can we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” he replied. “They will strip the planet until it’s lifeless.”

“What will that mean for us?” she asked in a small voice.

Chakotay sighed and turned to Haj, curling his arms around her. “It means we will die . . .but we’ll die together.” He heard her breath catch in her throat. “Don’t be afraid, my beautiful wife. I love you.”

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as a wall of water rushed upward into the air, and above him the dust-filled atmosphere was sucked towards the point were the beam emerged from the clouds.

Haj wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run, no tree to hide in, no camouflage to disguise herself with. She gazed up at him, panicked. Chakotay bent his head and kissed her, calming her fears, holding her close. Taking her cue from him, her nerves steadied. In their mutual show of love and support, neither noticed the oxygen levels drop until they had almost lost consciousness. Haj went limp in his arms. Chakotay gasped, trying to draw breath and sank beside her.

Seconds later the Borg beam vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The cube then turned away, leaving the planet stripped of everything useful, including much of the oxygen. The once lush world was effectively dead.

=/\=

“The Borg are moving away at warp 3.”

“Don’t lose them.” Janeway looked at Tuvok seated beside her and quietly nodded. Silently he pressed a green panel on the command console.

“They appear to be on a direct heading for Voyager!”

“Shut down all non-essential power, now!”

The lights dimmed and the engines died. Seconds later, the Borg cube roared passed them, catching their ship in it’s wake.

“They are opening a transwarp conduit.”

“Where does it lead?”

“The alpha quadrant.”

“Follow them in, match course and speed!”

Voyager shadowed them through the green hole in space and exited through into normal space. Within seconds the still badly damaged Borg cube was set upon by two Federation vessels, which were quietly minding their own business along the Neutral Zone. Caught by surprise, the Borg cube was overwhelmed and in seconds it shattered into millions of pieces of metal destined to become space debris.

“Shields!” she demanded just moments before the ship rocked within the shockwave. “Captain, we are being hailed. It’s the Enterprise!”

“On screen.”

“Federation vessel, this is Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise. Please state your designation and . . .what you are doing in the Neutral Zone?”

“Captain Picard, it’s wonderful to hear your voice. This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager. We just hitched a ride through the transwarp corridor, but we seem to have fallen short of the border. The explosion was certainly a nice welcome home, though.”

Picard smiled. “Welcome home indeed, Kathryn. The explosion must have interfered with attitude control and blown your ship back across the border,” he stated insightfully. Kathryn frowned about to argue to the contrary when Picard turned to his first officer and added. “Wouldn‘t you agree, Number One?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Riker replied, straight faced.

Picard looked into the screen. “It would seem that in any other case, we would have had to place you under arrest for violating the Neutral Zone treaty. Can’t have that, Kathryn.”

“Of course not,” she replied, also straight faced as she got to her feet. “Our engines seem to be off-line. I think we can forgo saving face and . . .request a tow?” She cringed as she envisioned the look of a mortified half-Klingon ten decks down.

“Message understood. Picard out.”

Kathryn sank back into her seat.

“Are you going to tell B’Elanna, or shall I?” a voice rose up from several metres in front of her. He did not dare turn around to face her.

“Thomas Paris, you breathe a word of this to your wife and I will promise that you will spend twice as long in Sickbay afterwards. And I don’t mean tending to patients.”

Harry grinned, noting that Paris still did not dare not look round.

=/\=

Chakotay opened his eyes, feeling a gentle breeze strike his face. Looking up he saw what looked like a grey and white bird sitting on the stern above his head. For a moment or two he wondered where he was. And then he remembered.

Sitting up he looked around. The first thing he realised was that he was in his boat. The second was that he was alive, judging by the slither of wood the had somehow pierced his hand. He pulled it free, and watched it bleed for a moment.

“We should be dead,” he muttered. Turning to Haj he nudged her awake. “Haj? The Borg are gone.” He looked up and blinked as the sun got into his eyes. “Ah! And so is the dust.”

Haj sat up, then stood up and looked around. “The sun, clear sky . . .land!”

Chakotay turned and there indeed was land. It was still a long way from their position, but it was land nonetheless. “Oh, thank the Spirits.”

Haj suddenly gasped, bending forward slightly, face fixed in an expression of shock.

“Uh-oh,” Chakotay reached for her, holding her hand in his. “Nice and slow, don’t hold your breath.”

She took several shaky breaths. “It’s gone.”

“It’ll be back. Let’s get you inside and get this boat moving somehow. The quicker we get to land, the better it will be.” He realised, to his stupidity, he had not thought to make oars.

Sitting down on the furs, Haj looked at him, suddenly in tears. “I’m scared, Cha’kotay.”

“Haj, don’t be scared. I’m here. I’ll help you.”

She was crying too much to respond. Holding her against him, he pulled off his gloves that were suddenly too warm, and did the same with hers. Holding her until she felt better, he gave her some water. He knew she had good cause to be afraid. This was her first time, and the baby was huge.

=/\=

Kathryn walked into Sickbay just as the doctor materialised from wherever he had been - at least she thought it was the doctor. At present he appeared to be some kind of cormorant. Then his appearance changed and his more usual form coalesced.

“Doctor?”

“Ah, captain. I have just paid our unknowing guests a visit.”

“I like the cormorant disguise,” she praised.

“Gannet, Captain. Not cormorant,” he groused, as if she should have known the difference.

“How are they?” she asked, changing the subject.

“They are both in surprisingly health. Haj’s injuries have healed well.”

“Injuries?”

“It appears she suffering extensive burns, and yes, they were as bad as Chakotay painted them. He obviously is not one to exaggerate.” He pulled a feather from the end of his nose and frowned with annoyance. He slapped it against his ‘uniform‘ and it changed shape to become his communicator. Then he continued. “I’m afraid there are other problems.”

Kathryn balked. “Do they know where they are?”

“Not from my observations, no. As far as they are concerned they are still on Huk.”

“We need to find a planet to set them down on and fast.”

“The faster the better,” he agreed. “Haj is in labour.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. With the size difference between her species and Chakotay’s, she is for one painful birth. The baby’s size is comparable to you giving birth to an 8 kilogram baby.”

Kathryn looked up at him for a moment, and swallowed hard. Ouch! An idea formed in her mind. “Doctor, are you familiar with codename ‘Duck Blind’?”

“Yes, it’s the term used for undercover observations on less advanced planets, carried out by . . .what are you suggesting?”

“You’re not Star Fleet, Doctor, therefore you will not be required to return to Earth for debriefing. Command will simply download you, de-compile your program and analyse the data stored over the past seven years. I’m giving you a chance to go on an undercover mission, and possibly save your life. Top secret, known only to me and a few others. Will you do it?”

“You want me to observe Chakotay and Haj. Is this for Star Fleet, or for your self?”

“Doctor!” she responded tersely.

“I’ll do it. I have no intention of handing myself over to die at the hand of Star Fleet technicians, well trained though they may be.”

The doors opened and in walked B’Elanna. “You called me, Captain?”

“I did. I have a mission for you.”

“Mission. I thought we were back in the Alpha quadrant.”

“We are, and this is what I want you to do . . .”

=/\=

Kathryn re-entered the Bridge and walked stiffly to the con. “Tom. You’re piloting expertise is needed on an urgent mission. Top Priority. Your orders will be transmitted to you once you’re aboard the Delta Flyer.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and left for the turbo-lift. No questions asked.

Stepping up beside Tuvok, she said, “Commander? It’s time to take out a trash.”

His eyebrow lifted a mere five centimetres before he turned to lean across the empty chair to press on the green panel again.

=/\=

The boat bumped against the sandy shore and Chakotay jumped out. Running up the beach he hauled the craft further up the beach above the high-tide mark. He rushed back to the boat and clambered in. Haj was lying on her side breathing heavily. She reached for him an clasped his hand.

“It’s ok. I’m here. We’re on land.” Gently lifting her too him he led her outside. Jumping down he lifted her out and carried her up the beach to set her down against a sheltering tree. “I’ll get some things and be right back.”

Haj nodded and Chakotay returned to the boat. He rushed back, breathless just as Haj’s pain intensified. Taking her hand he soothed her, comforting her as best he could. She gasped loudly.

“Breathe, Haj. Look at me, look at me.” Breathing with her calmed her, but did not lessen the pain. Finally it stopped. “I’m going to give you something for the pain, and find shelter, ok?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going to.” Taking out the hypo-spray he injected an analgesic into her system. Taking out the tri-corder he swung it around in an arc. “There’s a small cave not more than 30 metres from here. I can carry you that far.”

Lifting her up he pushed through the thick trees wondering mildly how such lush vegetation could have grown up so quickly after such a terrifying natural disaster, but then pushed it from his mind, arguing that the damage probably did not reach this far south.

He found the cave, not much more than a cleft in the cliff. Laying her down he looked round at an oddly familiar plant. He fingered the large green leaves and frowned.

“What is it?”

“We had a plant like this on my home world. It has medicinal properties. The sap contains an oil that helps with birth. I’ll mash some and paint your belly with it. First I need to get the food, water and blankets.”

“Hurry back, Cha’kotay.”

“I will,” he promised and kissed her before rushing back to the boat.

Five minutes later he returned. Haj sighed gently through another contraction. The analgesic had lessened, but not totally, blocked the pain. She gave him a weak smile. He tried to return it, but he was far too agitated to succeed. Chakotay almost flung their belongings down and set about clearing a space for a fire. It would be dark soon. Lighting the fire he took out some fruit and water and gave her some, knowing she would need the energy.

While she ate and drank a little, he took several local plants and ground them between two rocks. The gooey mass was cold against Haj’s furred skin. She moaned as he applied it, and he could feel her abdomen tighten. The pain relieving drug was already beginning to wear off. As she moaned through each breath, he held her hand and opened the tri-corder. The results of the scan made him sigh.

“Damn.”

“What is wrong?” Haj asked.

“Damn!” He rose to his feet yelling into the air, raking his fingers roughly through his hair. “Damn! Damn! Damn it!” In tears, he looked down at her. As he knelt down beside her he cupped her cheek. “I‘m sorry, Haj.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I should not have made you pregnant.”

“But, I . . .I wanted you to . . .”

“Haj,” he cut her off, almost too harshly. “The baby is too big! Too damn big!”

=/\=

Kathryn flinched, hearing Haj’s cries of pain. She hid her face in her hands as another cry came across the com-link. Silencing her own sobs of helplessness she collapsed in tears, knowing what this was doing to Chakotay. He was a gentle man, seeing anyone suffer was hard for him to take. A person whom he knew and loved . . .she could hear him crying. He was as helpless down there as she was up there.

She thought back to the conversation she had had with Admiral Paris just two hours earlier.

“You must not interfere, Kathryn,” he warned her in no uncertain terms. “To do so would end the tenuous peace with the Romulan Empire.” She had asked what that had to do with it, and he had told her straight, “the planet you left Chakotay and his alien wife on is on the Romulan side of the border.” She pretended not to know what he meant. Admiral Paris eyed her seriously. “We detected the transporter beam from your ship to the surface of a moon. We also detected the high-level security field around the holodeck. Kathryn, don’t worry,” he said, stopping her from speaking. “You saved a family from a Borg, and a member of that family was a former member of your crew. I understand fully. I read your logs. The matter will go no further. But understand, you are not to violate the Remus Accords by crossing the border into New Neutral Zone. The peace is tenuous at best. Nor are you to violate the Prime Directive, by any means - by any means.” Kathryn knew better than to argue.

She did not doubt that peace was tenuous, but when someone was suffering, needing medical help, it was hard to abide by the Accords. She allowed herself a small measure of satisfaction, knowing that Star Fleet Command did not know of the technology Chakotay had, or that Haj knew more about it than she had appeared to at first. She hoped that what they had would be enough.

=/\=

She screamed again, and paused to catch her breath, groaning loudly with each breath before half-straining half-screaming again.

Chakotay gave her another shot from the hypo-spray, this time anaesthetic rather than a pain reliever. In tears he cupped her cheek, not sure how much she was aware of beyond the pain. “Not long, my love. A little more.”

She took in a big breath and screamed, drawing her knees up with the effort. She was bleeding heavily, but Chakotay took triumph where could find it - he could see the baby.

“The baby’s almost here, Haj.”

She cried out long and hard.

Chakotay watched in awe and in horror and the bloodied baby emerged and slipped free to lie on the furs beneath her. Exhausted and badly injured, Haj lay whimpering. Chakotay wiped the infant’s face and lifted him up. Holding it up for Haj to see, she looked up at it.

“It’s a boy, Haj,” he whispered.

With effort she lifted her head enough to kiss his cheek. “Big,” was all she said and her head rolled back against the furs.

“Haj?” Chakotay placed the boy on her chest, and pressed his fingers to her throat. “Haj!” he cried out. “No!”

=/\=

B’Elanna wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked up at the Doctor. He swallowed dryly.

“There’s nothing we could have done,” he told her.

“We could have performed a caesarean, damn it!” she roared, getting to her feet, pacing around the tiny cabin.

“The Doc’s right, B’Elanna,” Tom put in gently. “Haj’s physiology would not have taken a procedure as drastic as a C-section very well.”

“There must be something we can do!” she fumed. “A baby need’s milk. Without Haj, where is the baby going to get nourishment?”

“B’Elanna, the prime directive . . .”

“To hell with the prime directive!” she stormed glaring at the EMH dangerously enough to make him fear for his life. “‘I swear to do no harm, by action or inaction’. Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

She had him by the short and curlies - if he had them that is.

“Well?”

The Doctor had the decency to jump. “Yes. That’s right.”

“Good, now all we need is a food source.”

“You mean, a cow?” Tom suggested.

“No, Chakotay’s people didn’t have cows, they had buffalo and llamas. There has to be a lot of grass for buffalo, but a llama can eat anything. Now . . .where to get a llama . . .”

The two men looked at each other as B’Elanna babbled on to herself. Slowly they both smiled at each other and as one turned to look out the opposite window. There, in the shadow of two moons was a blue-orange planet.

=/\=

Chakotay held the crying child close to his chest, trying to keep him warm. But what he needed he could not give him. It would only be a matter of hours before his newborn son would die of starvation, a slow and unpleasant death.

Chakotay rocked him, listening to his whimpers as they grew quieter and quieter. In his despair it was all he could do to hope that it would be quick, that he would fall asleep and not wake up. He shuddered, absently brushing a hand across him chin where a tear had been tickling for ages. He shivered again and suddenly remembered that the fire had gone out some time ago.

Wrapping the baby in a fur, he set about relighting the glowing embers. He hardly took much notice of what he was doing, as he gazed around him. He was hungry, and the small child was hungry. He could eat, but there was nothing he could give his son. As he slept he gave the child a shot of nutrients from his med-kit. For now, it would have to do.

His gaze fell on the woman he loved. She still lay there, where she had been trying to give birth during the last moments of her life. He crossed to her side, kneeling beside her. Again he cried, gathering her in his arms and sobbing into her neck. In the end, all their efforts at making him look like her were in vain. She was just too different. Too small.

He had much to do, he realised. He had to find an animal with milk. A goat, perhaps, but in this now barren planet he doubted he would find one. The animals here were just too different. And now that he thought about it, since the meteor strike he hadn’t seen anything larger than a squirrel. True, there were pockets of vegetation here and there and a few birds, but for all intents and purposes, it was a barren world.

Soon he would run out of supplies and that meant leaving his son alone to hunt. He could end up losing his son to the Huk tribes that lived on this continent, not that he had seen any evidence of any, but he knew that there had to be some. He had no choice. First of all, he had other duties to perform. He slowly lifted his head to look down at her face and cupped her cheek. He kissed her still warm lips and laid her down.

Taking out the laser scalpel he performed the last rites, and removed her pelt as was the age-old custom of the Huktreib. Then, wrapping her in her bed fur, he laid the pelt over the boat to dry. Taking his axe, we went outside and looked around him. In the green, but desolate, world nothing moved. It seemed fitting then that he should choose this spot in which to bury his wife.

The sea level had dropped dramatically at some point leaving this sandbar high and dry for plant colonisation, and the ground between the palm-like cycads was solid enough. At the foot of a medium-sized one, he began to dig. Loosening the soil with the axe, he then scooped it out with his hands. After about an hour the soil had yielded a pit as deep as his arm. He rested for a while, ate some of the fruit he had growing in the troughs he had made, and then continued. An hour and a half later, and the hole was deep enough to bury Haj.

He went back inside the cave and lifted her body, carrying her to her final resting place. He peeled back the fur enough to see her face. She looked so peaceful, that it hurt to look at her. He kissed her forehead one last time, and gently lowered her into the hole. He left a small woven reed jar of food, a spear and her sewing things beside her. With great sadness he filled in the hole, not wanting to, but knowing he had no choice. To leave her in the open would invite scavengers.

Once the hole was filled he set about looking for a stone to set as a marker. He found a large rock that had been carried here by the sea during a storm. Dragging it to the mouth of the cave, he went inside to eat and drink and add some more wood to the fire. Soon he would need to fell another tree. His son was waking up. He looked down to find his eyes open. They were brown, just like Haj had said they would be. For some reason that did not ease the heaviness of his heart.

He reached out and lifted the tiny child before he could do more than mewl at being hungry. He was also wet. Chakotay made a note to find some moss before the day was out, which meant now. Giving the child another shot of nutrients, he held him close, knowing that nutrients was one thing, but having nothing in his stomach was not good for him.

Going outside the baby shut his eyes against the sunlight and fidgeted.

“Sorry, son,” he whispered. Walking out a little way, he eyed the landscape in despair thinking of all the things he would need for his son - like now. Diapers, clothing, milk, feeding bottle.

Suddenly something caught his eye. He took a step closer and blinked. In confusion he blinked again. He watched as an animal walked towards him. Blinking a third time, Chakotay decided that he was either dreaming or hallucinating. Or it was a mirage that brought the animal ever closer?

Finally the animal stopped directly in front of him and stood there, as if waiting for something. Its back legs twitched at something. Although it stood calmly enough, something was clearly bothering the animal, which, now that Chakotay had gathered his senses, looked awfully familiar.

“Stone me if this isn’t a llama,” he whispered. He looked off into the trees, in the direction it had come from, but there was no one out there. “Where did you come from?” he asked, almost expecting the beast to answer him. His son fidgeted and mewled again. Chakotay hushed him and joggled him a little, to quieten him.

Chakotay looked at the shifting hind legs and something caught his eye. The pap were so full that they were leaking. Milk. Seeing an opportunity too good to pass up, he rushed into the cave to get a strip of leather. His son complained at being put on the floor as his father rushed back outside to put a noose around the animal’s neck before it could run away.

The llama seemed perfectly happy to allow this activity, and bent it‘s head to nibble at the juicy shoots around the mouth of the cave. Chakotay fetched a bowl and slowly approached the leaking pap. The llama made no move to shy away, or kick him. In fact, Chakotay could swear that he heard her sigh with relief.

“Where’s your calf, eh?” he asked her. Then another thought struck him. If she was a domesticated animal that had escaped, her owner would want her back. He milked her quickly and went inside to feed his now whimpering son. Setting the bowl down, he sat and held his son on his lap. Taking a spoon he carefully dribbled a little into his mouth. That was none too successful. He looked around something else he could use.

The med-kit still lay open and inside was a medical wipe made of cloth, placed in the pack to use as a cool cloth whenever someone had a fever. Chakotay picked it up, still folded in a square, and squeezed the middle into a teat shape. Dipping it into the warm milk, he offered it to the baby. Instantly he opened his mouth and grabbled the cloth, sucking with all his might. The cloth was almost dry before he squealed in annoyance. Chakotay dipped it again. He smiled, relieved and thankful to the Spirits for his fortune. Feeding him until he was full, Chakotay held him against his shoulder and gently rubbed his back. This was a new experience, winding. He had only seen this done once in his entire life. Samantha Wildman had done it to Naomi when she had to give up breast feeding at five months. She had mentioned how Naomi had kept biting, and had given it up in favour of replicated milk and a bottle. Chakotay had been fascinated by what Sam had been doing and had openly asked her.

“I’m rubbing her back,” she had told him.

“Why?” he had asked.

Sam had been amused. “Why, Commander, have you never seen a mother do this before?”

“No,” replied. “Never.”

Sam seemed surprised. “Never?”

Chakotay had shaken his head.

“A bottle fed baby swallows air as well as milk, since the bottle does not mimic the natural shape of a mother’s breast, so there isn’t a proper seal around her mouth. A breast fed baby rarely gets wind or colic, if ever. Naomi has had it almost every night since I stopped feeding her. You didn‘t know that?”

“I’ve never known a baby not to be breast fed. In my tribe, every child is breast fed until they are at least two years old.”

Sam smiled. “Believe me, with Naomi’s teeth, five months is more than enough for me.”

Chakotay smiled at the memory. Silently he thanked Sam for feeding Naomi in the Mess Hall that day. If she hadn’t, he would never have known. He wondered if Sam would have known then that that small nugget of information would become the goldmine of the future? He doubted it.

Suddenly the baby belched royally, and Chakotay smiled wider still. Lifting him down, hand cupping his soft downy head, he looked into the little face. “I think I’ll call you Kolopak, after my father. He always had a lot to say too.” The baby yawned. “Oh, yawning already, eh? That does not bode well for the future, my son. Mark me, and mark me well, never yawn while I’m talking or at anything I say.” Kolopak blinked up at him in the light of the fire. “Tired, my son?”

Chakotay kissed his soft cheek and pulled the fur closer around him. Laying him back in the bed of furs in the cave, Chakotay picked up the bowl of milk and went back outside to look for moss. He walked a little way from the camp, wondering what lay beyond the short cliff. Drinking the remaining milk, he gazed down the hill to a stream sparkling in the last rays of the sun, and wondered mildly if there was fish or freshwater crustaceans in it. In the days to come, he would have to find out. He would also need to plant his trees, and seeds.

In the meantime, he had other matters to attend to. He found something akin to moss growing around the roots of the trees, Gathering a hand full, he went back into the cave. With the moss strategically placed, he settled down with his son close beside him and fell asleep.

=/\=

“Captain, we can’t sit back and allow this to happen. Our wives and husbands and children are on those planets. We haven’t seen them for seven years, and now we’re told that we can’t see them ever, because they are now within Romulan space, and the borders are closed.”

“Gentlemen,” Janeway broke in, hands raised for quiet enough to allow her to speak. “I agree with you, but my hands are tied. I don’t like this turn of events any more than you do. To that end, I have logged an official protest for and on behalf of all of you, myself included.”

“With all due respect, Captain, but what will that achieve?” Chell asked. “Bolarus is one of those worlds. Without access to my home world, I cannot even find a mate to raise a family. As you know Bolians need to form a quadruple arrangement . . .”

“Yes, Chell, I know,” Janeway cut in, amused that the former member of her crew had not lost his gift of the gab. He was still a chatterbox. “You’re not the only one missing out here,” she noted quietly for only him and a few others in the immediate vicinity to hear. She knew they would understand. She was missing Chakotay just as much as they were missing their families. She caught the gazes of each of her former crew. Giving Chell’s shoulder a bolstering squeeze she grasped another crewman’s hands in her own. “I have an plan, and I want your ideas on it. I won’t ask or order anyone to join me, nor will anyone be made to feel obligated because we have been through so much together over the past seven years.” She had their attention. No one said a word. “The situation in the New Neutral Zone is intolerable. The colonists are faring better than they were under Cardassian rule, only because they are not under attack by the Romulans. And only because of that. What I’m about to tell you is classified, but you deserve to know. They are your families, your homes.”

She took a deep breath, and she could tell they were not happy with what she was about to do. She was sticking her neck on the line, and they knew it. She could lose her commission for this, even get court marshalled and end up in prison, but she went ahead anyway, because it was the right thing to do. Yet again, she was putting her crew before herself, and they would not forget this.

“The colonists in the Neutral Zone are without supplies. No ships of any kind are allowed inside the no-fly zone, Federation, Bajoran, Cardassian, Romulan, or even local shipping. I don’t need to tell any of you what that means for the inhabitants. Within months they will be facing starvation and serious illness and probable death unless food and medical supplies are taken across the border.”

“Exactly what are you saying, Captain?” Tom spoke up.

Janeway turned her head. “I’m saying we need to smuggle a ship across the border and get supplies to the colonists.”

Batehart stared at her in utter surprise. “What you’re proposing is breaking a Star Fleet blockade and staging an incursion into Romulan space to supply several planets and then high-tale it out of there without getting noticed.”

“Simply put, yes.”

“Then, you’ll need a pilot.”

“You will need Borg ingenuity,” Seven added without a pause.

“You’ll need supplies,” Celeste added. “I have family on Bajor. They are farmers.”

“You’ll need weaponry . . .”

“You’ll need . . .”

Janeway swallowed back the pride as it swelled, filling her eyes with unshed tears. They were all behind her. Every last one of them.

Several hours later, as she read yet another secret communication that had just arrived from the Delta Flyer, the door chimed. “Come in,” she accorded without thinking, such was the habit. Then she remembered that she had to physically open the doors to her quarters on campus. Opening them, she saw a familiar face, and a not so familiar face. “B’Elanna, what a wonderful surprise. I was not expecting you back until tomorrow. Come on in. How are you?”

“I‘m fine, thank you, Captain. I just got back three hours ago and Harry swamped me with information. You‘re really serious, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Kathryn told her.

“Then you’ll need an engineer. I happen to have some pull with one who is rumoured to be the best in Star Fleet.”

Janeway smiled widely. “Glad to have you aboard, B‘Elanna. Who is your friend?”

“Captain, this is Sveta, and old friend of Chakotay’s.”

Janeway clasped her hands in her own. “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you. Chakotay told me so much about you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. I heard how you were sent to capture Chakotay and bring him to justice. B’Elanna says he’s not with you any more.”

Kathryn swallowed. Something in Sveta’s almost opaque eyes told her that B’Elanna had probably told her much more than what she had just said. “How much do you know?”

“I know that he’s on an M-Class moon in the Neutral Zone, and that he’s alone with a small child. B’Elanna came to me two weeks ago with a strange request - to drop off a llama at undisclosed co-ordinates.”

“A llama?”

“He’s baby needed milk, Captain. You and I both know that his wife did not survive. The crew know she‘s dead.”

“Who told them?”

“I did. The Doctor was monitoring them when she died.”

“Where is the Doctor?”

B’Elanna fished into her pocket and took out the mobile holographic emitter. “And before you ask, I stole it. Star Fleet planned to de-compile his program within the hour of us getting back. As far as they are concerned I’ve already done it. All we need now is a ship big enough for the size of the operation you plan on pulling off.”

Janeway smirked secretively, hugging a large P.A.D.D. to her body. “She’s ready and waiting.”

B’Elanna opened her mouth and then looked at the P.A.D.D. she held out to her. She gasped. “Voyager?”

Janeway shook her head. “This was Voyager. She’s now a privately owned space-faring hotel, flying under the Khatarian flag.”

B’Elanna looked up at her. “Captain, you are the most devious woman I have ever met,” she said, and suddenly laughed. Kathryn joined in.

“I agree,” Sveta put in. “That was almost Maquis of you, Captain. In fact, that‘s why I‘m here.”

Kathryn looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“All the former Maquis are ready to join you, Captain. And we have fighters awaiting your orders.”

“Then I suggest we get going. I have to see a man about a dog. Or, in this case, a Ferengi about a ship.”

=/\=

Admiral Paris laughed aloud at an in-joke as he and Admiral Ross entered the spacious offices at Star Fleet Command.

“So much Romulan Ale was consumed that night that it’s a wonder anyone could remember their own name, let alone Alyanna Nacheyev with no clothes on.”

“Oh, I remember, Owen. Trust me,” Ross assured him, chuckling again. He frowned as a beeping interrupted from Paris’s desk. “Are you expecting a call?”

“Not that I know of. Everyone knows that I’m busy with the Odysseus refit,” Owen replied.

“Apparently not everyone,” Ross intoned.

Owen crossed to his desk and pressed the button on the console to open the channel. He smiled. “It’s from Kathryn.” The smile quickly dissolved as he read the message. “Oh my.”

“What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, Owen turned the console round so that his colleague and friend could see the message that was written there.

Ross raised his eyes over the top of the monitor. “Is it me, or is Kathryn threatening to rebuild the Maquis?”

“That was my thought, too.” Paris opened a channel. “Security, locate Captain Kathryn Janeway‘s communicator.”

“Communicator located, sir,” came the reply barely two seconds later.

“Where?”

“USS Voyager’s Briefing Room.”

Ross frowned. “How did she get aboard?”

“Life signs?” Owen barked into the screen?

“None, sir,” security responded.

“Beam the communicator to my office.”

A slight pause was broken with the words, “I can’t sir. Voyager has left space dock and is currently out of range.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Paris out.” Owen quickly stood. “Damn confounded woman!”

Several other curses and mutterings followed the man as he seethed across the room to the wall screen. Pressing the buttons he opened a channel. The Terran consul to the Federation Council appeared on the screen.

“Consul Baker. This is Admiral Owen Paris of Star Fleet Command. I have some distressing news that I believe you must hear.”

“Go ahead, Admiral Paris,” replied the white-haired quietly-spoken man.

“I just received word from a former Star Fleet captain that she is joining the Maquis. They are planning on inciting a rebellion within the New Neutral Zone.”

“I was under the impression that the Maquis were disbanded.”

“It appears that they have regrouped, Consul.”

“I see. And what is Star Fleet going to do to stop this former captain?”

“We will do everything in our power, but if she crosses the border, we will be powerless to act.”

Baker slowly nodded.

“Consul, forgive me for overstepping my bounds here, but we both knew the likelihood of this happening. I was against this Treaty from the beginning, and I’ll make no secret of it. To continue to ignore the plight of millions of former Federation citizens just for the sake of saving face with the Romulans is wrong.”

“Your objections are so noted, Admiral Paris, and as you pointed out, the politics of this Treaty are beyond your bounds. Your obligation is merely to uphold the sanctions and waivers. If Star Fleet vessels are found in violation of the Treaty, they will be fired upon by the Romulan fleet. And the same is said of Romulan ships straying inside Federation Territory.”

“Consul, there are billions of civilians facing starvation. We have an obligation on humanitarian grounds . . .”

“Admiral,” Baker broke in, in the same gentle manner. “The Treaty has been signed and ratified. Therefore this conversation never took place. Is that quite clear?”

Owen quelled an annoyed sigh. “Quite clear. Paris out.” He stabbed the deactivation button cruelly and turned away. “Politicians never get any better,” he fumed. “As Kathryn rightly mentioned, the Treaty was not ratified by the worlds in the NNZ.”

“What should we do?”

“Get on to our fleet a.s.a.p. and go after Kathryn.”

“I already have. Six ships are on her trail as we speak. Do you think Kathryn took Voyager?”

“I’m willing to stake my life on it.”

“Then we have a problem.”

“What?”

“Nacheyev decommissioned her nine hours ago. According to this Star Fleet sales docket, Voyager was sold as scrap to the Ferengi, who then sold her on to an undisclosed buyer. She’s a civilian vessel flying under the Khatarian flag. She has diplomatic immunity. It’s out of our jurisdiction.”

=/\=

The Khatarian shot through the tube landing on his feet. He turned to holler instructions up at the man at the top, “Three more coats should do it.”

“Yep. Doing it now. Get the tail done next.”

“Chell is already doing it.”

“Ok, you taking a break?”

“Yes. I want to sleep with my wife tonight. Haven’t seen her for seven years, so I have plenty of catching up to do.”

A loud chuckle snorted down the access tube. “We’ll see in you three days then.”

“I tell her you said that, Antonio.”

“See that you do, ‘coz I’m taking the next three days to do just that with my lovely woman.”

“Does Janeway know?”

“Of course she does, Gres. It was her idea. She wants us battle ready, but relaxed. We can’t be both if we’re still missing our loved ones.”

“That’s true. “ Gres sobered. “We really are going to engage Star Fleet and the Romulans . . .aren’t we?”

Antonio Ayala leaned into the tube hatch and looked at his new friend seriously. “This ship may be old by Star Fleet standards, but she got us through more scrapes than any other ship. And no one could ask for a better captain to take command. If anyone can pull this off, she can.”

Gres slowly smiled. “I’ve heard some great things about her. Didn’t she fall in love with her first officer?”

Ayala smirked to himself. “Now there’s a story worth telling. There was never in the history of sentient life two beings so in love as they were”

“Wasn’t he killed back in the Delta Quadrant?”

Ayala shock his head. “Not killed. Left behind. Star Fleet Protocols, Prime Directive 4.”

Gres tried, but could not find even a taint of bitterness or regret in his voice. “That must have been hard on them both.”

“It was, and on the crew, but we all knew that it was for the best. Chakotay made that choice. He was a man of principle. That’s why I’m here now. It’s his world, as well as mine, we’re fighting for. He would approve of this, even be here himself if he could.”

Gres grinned. “What would he think if he knew the Maquis now had Voyager as its flagship?”

“He would laugh at the irony,” Ayala chuckled.

The two friends parted and gres went to join his wife in the cargo bay, where she was finishing up cataloguing all the medical supplies. He hugged her from behind and tickled an ear with his breath. Samantha giggled. They pulled apart and she turned in his arms to kiss him.

“Are you almost finished?”

“Just these last two boxes,” she told him.

Gres looked at the room now stuffed to the rafters with cartons, boxes, barrels and crates. “So much,” he breathed. “I hope it will be enough, for now at least.”

“So do I. I’m done. I just need to feed this into the computer, and then I have the night off.”

“You don’t get three days?”

“Not the medical teams.” Sam watched her husband’s disappointment play across his eyes. “But I can call the doctor and ask.”

=/\=

Alone in her ready room Kathryn read through several reports and sighed. Just like old times. Except that Chakotay was not the one bringing her the reports. B’Elanna had been doing that, all day in fact. She sat back and let her mind wander.

During the past three weeks most of her former crew had come to her to tell her what had been going on, and she, like them, could not find a single thing she liked about this treaty. It stank. All but three of her former crew had resigned Star Fleet in protest, and most of them because their home worlds were now in Romulan space. Home coming was not what it was cracked up to be.

All of the remaining Maquis had joined forces with six warbirds from the Romulan worlds now on the NNZ side of the border. She smiled in deep thought. This was going to be a force to be reckoned with. Chakotay would be proud.

Of course, she mused, if they won, he would be alive to see it. The moon he was currently on was one of the worlds stuck in no man’s land. She hoped he was still alive by then. That was one of the reasons she was joining this harebrained war.

Harebrained or not, the Treaty was wrong. Hadn’t Star Fleet worked that out with the doomed-to-failure Cardassian mess? Obviously not. Some people were dim enough to make the same mistake several times before getting it into their heads that it really is a stupid idea.

In eight days, her ship would cross the border into Romulan held NNZ space and dare to do the unthinkable, join the Maquis. Kathryn suddenly laughed through her nose at the absurdity of it. She, as a Star Fleet captain, had been sent to stamp out the last of the Maquis, capture their leader, himself a renegade Star Fleet officer, and now she had turned - what was the phrase? Turned her coat? And that made her what? Defector, deserter, traitor, an all round bad egg?

Kathryn chuckled again. She was doing it because it was the right thing to do. Could Star Fleet really expect her to turn her back on Chakotay? And what about those billions of people left without the means of support. True, the Romulans had agreed not to use military force against their newly acquired ‘citizens’ and their home worlds, and, contrary to the Cardassians, they had kept their word.

But, more to the point, the Romulans had stopped all shipping in and out of the area, and within the area. All trade had ceased. People were going to die if nothing was done. Previously Romulan worlds were suffering just as much, as were Cardassian colonies.

Something had to be done, and Kathryn was just the person to do it, and had the right equipment to do it with. Voyager. She could not believe that Nacheyev had sold her off as scrap, and had seized the opportunity as quick as a flash. The poor Ferengi didn’t know what had hit them until they saw Voyager disappearing into the distance, although it was a fair price she paid.

Kathryn had friends in high places, and not just on Earth. It was a legal sale, and she had a legal backer on Khatari. Star Fleet could not do a thing about her. Another evil chuckle rose from her throat. Chakotay had taught her more than he would ever realise.

=/\=

The ragtag fleet engaged three Romulan warbirds less than six million kilometres inside the border.

“Captain, the Romulan war birds are in violation of the Remus Accords.”

“Make them aware of that fact, Ayala.”

“Firing phasers. Direct hit, but their shields are undamaged.”

Suddenly the Romulans fired back, and all hell broke loose. Several minute later, another war bird decloaked right in front of them and let loose a volley of torpedoes, dispatching the first three into fiery glory.

“We’re being hailed,” Chell announced.

“On screen,” ordered a baffled Janeway.

The screen came on, and a Romulan in civilian clothing appeared before her. “Glad to see I arrived just in time, Captain Janeway. I hope you didn’t sustain too much damage.”

“Not as much as I had expected. I seem to be somewhat at a loss. You are . . .?”

“Oh, forgive me. Porell, former governor to the Imperial court for the Romulan worlds now inside the Neutral Zone. “Well,” he smiled. “I’m still governor, but the court no longer recognises my citizenship. In fact the Imperial court no longer recognises any of these worlds as being inhabited. That’s why I’m here saving you, and not killing you.”

“In that case,” she began and missed a beat. “Thank you. We’re here to deliver supplies to the ‘uninhabited’ colonies.”

Porell grinned. “And we’re here to protect you from the Romulan fleet, particularly the Tal’Shiar.”

“Our gratitude. We’ll do the same in return, by protecting you from any Star Fleet vessels. There’s bound to be one or two that followed us.”

Porell nodded. “I don’t doubt it. I will transmit my ships’ warp signatures to you, so that we can be easily identified when the real skirmishing begins.”

“That would be helpful. Thank you, Porell. In the meantime, we better get these supplies to those who need it most.”

“Agreed. The former Federation colonies are hardest hit. We have enough supplies for the time being. I’ll transmit the latest reports.”

=/\=

Several days later, a battle-scarred vessel limped into the Badlands to hide from a persistent Romulan aggressor. Barely making it into orbit, it was a miracle that they ever set down on the planetoid within the Terrakoff belt in one piece. But manage it they did.

“B’Elanna, begin repairs. I want around the clock status reports.”

“Just like old times, eh?” the half-Klingon noted with a grin.

“Just like old times,” Kathryn agreed.

=/\=

Quietly she set off across the beach, wondering just how far she had to walk to find him. The sun was high and it was hot. A deep sense of need ran though her and she slipped off her shoes, feeling the soft grains beneath her feet. She had been walking for almost five minutes before she saw the boat. She had never seen it before, but she could tell Chakotay’s handiwork when she saw it. She turned into the trees and saw small birds and the river not far away. On it’s banks she could see dwarf fruiting trees, and furrows of seedlings just pocking their heads up through the soil. What she didn’t see was the person following her.

=/\=

He had picked this day to find turtle eggs, but it was quite a trek as he had to fetch water first. The beach was dead ahead, stretching to either side of him as far as he could see. Stepping out barefoot onto the soft sand he almost didn’t see them and then stumbled in his shock.

Footprints!

Looking off in the direction they had come and in the direction they had gone, he saw no one, but rushed back into the scrub. His heart was racing, his breathing flustered. Who was it? What did they want? This was the first sign of any other humanoid - it had to be Huk.

His stomach lurched upward. Kolopak!

Hefting the water pack further round on his back, he gripped the spear in his hand and moved stealthily through the undergrowth. He could hear someone moving about up ahead, not even attempting to hide their position. Brazen, he thought.

He would have smiled if the unknown person was had not been heading straight for his field of growing food, and then they turned away making straight for his son. Taking off the water pouch and setting it down at the foot of a tree, he made off again in a tangent. He caught a flash of movement and darted behind a thicket of large leaves. The hunter had almost seen him, in fact he had turned in his direction. All to the good, he thought.

He counted the steps the hunter was making towards his hiding place. The hunter was not even hiding his position, stepping on dry twigs at every step. It would be their last mistake, he thought.

With less than a metre between him and the unknown hunter, Chakotay jumped out from his hiding place, spear aloft, yelling a war cry.

The person in front of him yelled in terror - but it was no Huk.

“Ka-Kathryn?” Chakotay dropped the spear in shock. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Kathryn, still recovering from the fright of her life, merely stared at him for a few seconds more. “What the hell do you mean by scaring me like that!”

“I’m sorry, Kathryn, but you were the last person I expected to see. I could have been shadowing a hunter looking for food - namely me and my son who is less than six metres from where we’re standing.”

Kathryn looked around, but could see nothing to indicate a camp. Before she could ask, he was talking again. “I’m sorry. I thought your son might be sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him.”

“Huk attacks have been non-existent since the meteor strike, but I can’t be too careful. There were several tribes close to where we used to live who were cannibalistic, so you’ll forgive me . . .what are you doing here anyway? You could be half way home by now.”

“I came back to see you.”

“To see me?” He narrowed his eyes and looked at her askance. He reached out and tugged her hair and pinched the bare flesh of her shoulder.

“Ow! What are you doing?”

“Just wanted to be sure you’re not a dream.”

“By pinching me? You bully! And I came all this way . . .”

“And you’re not leaving yet,” he jumped in, grabbing her as she turned to leave.

Wide-eyed she stared up at him, feeling the unforgiving trunk of a tree at her back, and his strong grip on both of her wrists.

“Don’t go. I haven’t given you a proper welcome, yet.” Without warning he kissed her fully on the mouth, a soft but decisive kiss meant to capture and possess. And judging by the astonished look on her face, he had her attention. “Welcome to my home, Kathryn.”

“Do that again.”

=/\=

Kissing her fully and lingeringly he felt a shiver run through her body. He continued, pulling her closer, his need evident through his clothing. Kathryn pulled away, suddenly afraid, feeling the fire within her awaken after being kept dormant, or at the very least confined, for so long.

“I can’t do this,” she said breathily.

“Kathryn, I’m not a member of your crew any more. Don’t tell me that you don’t love me. I know you do. That kiss told me that you still do.”

“Yes, I still love you.”

“Then let me love you, Kathryn.”

“My crew,” she responded wistfully.

Chakotay groaned. “To hell with the crew, to hell with protocol and regulations! Why did you come back here, if not to be with me?” he stormed, still not releasing her.

“So much has changed.” She looked up at him stalling for time. Even now she was afraid to let go.

“Apparently not enough,” he decided, misunderstanding her hesitancy.

He started to pull away, but she stopped him. Startled, his eyes widened.

“You’ll be surprised who I have for my crew. My ship is in orbit, right now.”

“You really did come back for me,” he noted, finally letting her go. The disappointment was obvious. “You should not have done that. You should have realised that I would mot approve.”

“We’re not in the Delta quadrant, Chakotay. We’re in the Alpha quadrant. Don’t you recognise this world?”

Chakotay took a look around him at the semi-barren landscape just barely beginning to sprout new plant life. “No.”

“This is Dorvan 5’s Beta Moon.”

Chakotay stared at her, unable to take in what she was saying. His eyes turned skyward where the grey crescent or the moon above him. He had wondered why the moon’s position never changed, now he knew.

We couldn’t set you down on Trebus. It’s still uninhabitable, but we’re working on it. The war means that our operations have to be subtle enough to be unnoticeable.”

“War? Operations? What are you talking about?”

“This system is now inside Romulan space. The Federation and the Romulan Empire are at war.”

“I don’t understand. If what you say is true, then you are risking your life, and the lives of your crew in being here. Kathryn, you broke Star Fleet regulations . . .”

“I’m not with Star Fleet. I’m with the Maquis,” she told him, speaking over his own words.

“The Maquis!”

“I’m in command of their flag ship - actually, I own her.”

Chakotay stared at her stupidly. He didn’t know whether to believe her or laugh. “Let me guess, the flag ship is Voyager?”

“Yes, but she’s now goes by the name Miraminu.”

“Mira . . .you . . .named her after my mother,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes.

Kathryn gazed at him, unable to speak for a moment. She drew in a breath. “The worlds along the border are forming their own alliance. The colonists are fed up of being handed to and from one power to another. This Alliance is forging a committee and pushing for independence. If we win this war if words, which I hope we do, the war with ships will cease and the colonists can return home.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Trebus will remain uninhabitable for many months yet. Beta Moon has to become home to 30,000 Native American people from fourteen tribes. It has to be ready for them. But, you were the first colonist here. You have the last say.”

Chakotay swallowed as he stared at Kathryn, her red hair billowing in the gentle wind, like a thousand little fingers playing with each strand. It reminded him of a day many years before when he and Kathryn stood alone on an unnamed world thousands of light years away. And here they were again.

For so long he had been alone, and for longer he had been one of only two. Was he ready for others? In his heart he needed others. The loneliness had been unbearable. Turning just his head he gazed at the small carved stone that stood upright where it had been plunged into the ground. Three letters had been carved into its face, bearing the name of his wife, the mother of his child. For a long silent moment he gazed at the name and sighed, the light summer breeze carried her name aloft. He turned back to Kathryn and gazed at her. He was ready.

“Send them home. They’re Haj’s people.”

“Haj’s people?”

“I promised her, Kathryn. I promised to find her people. This moon was never colonised, and so it never had a name . . .until now. I’ll give it a name. I call it Haj. If they come here, they will be Haj’s people, in her honour.”

“I’ll tell them.”

They stood silent for a long moment, until their need could no longer be ignored. They had been alone for far too long. Suddenly, wordlessly, they embraced, lips on lips, body against body, crushed in each others arms. Tears rolled down their cheeks.

Chakotay shuddered a single sob. “I’ve missed you, Kathryn.”

“I thought I would die when you asked me to send you back to her.”

“Then, why did you?”

“Because I loved you, I let you go. Because I knew you had to be with her. For your child’s sake, I knew you wouldn’t leave her, or either of them.”

He kissed deeply, tasting her mouth with his tongue, pressing his body to hers. Their need drove them, arching and thrusting together, still clothed. She shuddered, climaxing. “Oops,” he said, but she shook her head. He drew back to look into her eyes, resting his forehead against hers waiting for her to regain control. “Would you like to see him?”

“Can I? Did she see him?”

He nodded gently. His gaze lowered as he thought back on the last moments of his wife’s life. “She saw him, for just a moment. He was just too big . . .” His voice broke, his words stopped.

Kathryn ran her hands up his back, comforting him, telling him that it was ok to grieve and let her go. It had been hard for him. In a way, she would never know how hard. In some ways, she didn’t want to know. “Show me.”

Chakotay pulled away and took her hand. Guiding her towards the cave that had been his home for almost seven months, he led her to a handmade wooden crib. Within it’s lovingly crafted walls lay a small child, laying fast asleep on his back. He was clothed in furs, and wrapped in a pelt to keep out the cold. His dark face was turned towards them, his bronzed hands curled into fists on either side of his head.

“Oh, Chakotay,” Kathryn breathed in awe. “He’s beautiful.”

Chakotay smiled. They watched as the baby fidgeted in his sleep, rubbing his eyes and turned to face the other way. He slept on.

Chakotay curled an arm around her waist and kissed the edge of her ear. “Kathryn,” he whispered.

Kathryn closed her eyes. “Oooah,” she whispered.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Epilogue

Chakotay lead the lama into her new stall and closed the lower door behind him. “We have a good life here,” he said. “The villagers have shelters. The new water pump was installed just yesterday, so now Cup-Cake doesn’t have to walk so far to . . .”

“Call me that again, and you die,” she told him.

“Sorry Cup-er-cup . . .er . . .Kathryn.” Chakotay’s expression gave away the telltale signs that he was unsure if he still had a life after his blunder. He sucked in his lower lips, waiting for a possible execution.

Kathryn raised her eyes, giving him a sidelong glance. Her death glare was still as sharp as ever. She turned her attention back to milking the goat. The goats milk was better for making yoghurt and cheese than llama milk. “I hear there are plans to put in proper running water and sewage facilities.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ayala responded, eyeing Chakotay quickly. He dared not laugh, he valued his own neck better than that. “The villages will be assigned a team and utilities will be started according to districts. This village is in District 4, so you may have a longer wait than others.”

“How long will it take?” Chakotay asked.

“We started work three days ago. There are 14,000 villages in all, so it’s a long job. We have a long way to go. Our priority has been to reclaim farmland on Trebus. The refugees are a little anxious to get back there at the earliest opportunity.”

Chakotay could understand that. He gazed at the grave of his wife and felt it too, but he would not leave. He could not leave this place. This was his home now. “Are there any more ships or equipment available?”

Ayala shook his head. “No, and we’re working flat out. Most of our forces are patrolling the borders. Bajor and Deep Space nine have joined the New Neutral Alliance, as have three former Cardassian colonies. So far our three neighbours have accepted our independence, but it’s a tenuous acceptance at best.”

“We got under their skin, eh?” Chakotay grinned.

Ayala chuckled. “I think so. Time will tell. For now, we’re asking everyone to work together and be patient until we can get things together. We hope to open diplomatic channels and begin trading again within the next year or so. The Ferengi have been very helpful.”

“The Ferengi?” Chakotay’s jaw dropped. “Helpful?”

“Times have changed, Chakotay. I could hardly believe it myself. Their Grand Nagus has brought some radical thinking to their way of life.”

Kathryn looked up, her task complete. “Didn’t he marry a Bajoran woman?”

“That’s right. And his son is in Star Fleet, Lieutenant Nog fought in the war against the Jem’Hadar.” Ayala took a quick look around him. “Is there anything that you need between now and my next visit?”

“I don’t think so,” Chakotay assured him. “Except for a few spare parts for the soil reclamator and the water purification plant, we’re just about ready for winter.”

“I’ll see about getting them to you within the hour.” Ayala gave his old friend a hug, and Kathryn was surprised to get one as well. Chucking the tot in the play pen under the chin he then called for beam out.

Standing alone, Chakotay and Kathryn smiled at each other.

“I better get this into the refrigeration unit,” she told him, noting the gleam in his eye. She knew what that look meant. “And you had better check the supplies. I don’t want to run out of magnecite fuel over winter.”

Chakotay laughed. “You can’t run out of magnecite, Kathryn. It’s inexhaustible. But, I’ll get on with the chores. I’ll be done in an hour.”

“Oh, good,” she responded lightly. “Kolopak should be asleep by then.”

Chakotay watched her carry the bucket into the house, and a small smile graced his lips. “Oh good,” he repeated under his breath.

Four years ago, he dared not entertain such thoughts of Kathryn Janeway. Only a year and a half ago, he would only have thought of Haj this way. Now, he had his first love back with him, the peace in his soul that sang a thousand songs of gratitude to the Spirits for bringing his life full circle.

Right now he hardly thought about what he was doing. He eyes quickly scanned the woodpile. Logs almost three metres long were stacked up against the back of the stable. Thirty bales of straw; four barrels of unfermented wine; ten containers of water; three barrels of honey; two crates of grains and pulses; eight small containers of dried fruits and vegetables. Writing them all down on a P.A.D.D, he went back outside to move the sled into the stable.

He straightened to look at the contraption he had built. It’s strange wood had retained it’s vivid orange colour. It was strong, but lightweight. The travois now had wheels, but other than that, it was as it had looked the day he had built it. He could scarcely believe that it had been only 18 months before. So much had happened in that time.

He lifted his eyes to the darkening sky and came outside to lift his face to the dying sun. It was still warm, even with the turning of the seasons. The trees were already losing their green covering, and the grass was beginning to look old and tired. Soon it would be blanketed in a thick layer of white snow possibly several metres deep. He could hear the sea in the distance, and a faint breath of salt was carried on the breeze.

He smiled, eyes still closed, as he remembered Haj’s reaction to the first snow she had ever seen. She had believed the Bright Eye had been dying, shedding it’s skin like the snake. Looking up at the early evening sky he searched for the first evening star. There it was, twinkling down at him, kissing his vision with it‘s dim silver light.

He smiled wider still. Haj was looking down on him, even though he could let her go now, and find peace in doing so. He had Kathryn. And he could move on, besides, he had something to tell her. He closed the stable doors and crossed to the house. Closing the dwelling door behind him he wondered how Kathryn would take his news.

He found her in the kitchen holding Kolopak while he drank his evening bottle. He kissed her tenderly and his sleepy son. It would be Kolopak’s birthday in two days, and he had a great birthday gift. “I’ll go and wash up for dinner.”

Kathryn smiled receiving another kiss, this time on the lips and watched him retreat to the bathroom before looking down at the baby in her lap. His little hands were still grasped around the bottle in his hands, but his grip was loosening as he fell asleep, his eyes almost closed.

The bottle was empty and Kathryn teased it from his closed mouth. Putting the bottle down on the table, she lifted him and carried him into the bedroom. She could hear Chakotay humming softly in the bathroom beyond the dividing wall. She frowned slightly. She couldn’t remember the last time she had heard him hum, or sing for that matter.

She lay the baby in his crib and pulled up the fur he still slept with. Fingering the soft pelt, she wondered not for the first time what animal it had come from. Walking back to the kitchen she began to think of what to cook for dinner.

Without warning, arms came around her waist, lifting her slightly, as lips nibbled her neck. Hands cupped her breasts, thumbing their peaks beneath the blue dress she wore. She sighed and leaned into him. He had been a lover as good as if not better than she had ever dreamed. Closing her eyes, she set her head against his shoulder and moaned, feeling his tongue leave a wet line down from ear to shoulder.

Chakotay moaned back. “Be my wife, Kathryn,” he mumbled into her ear.

“Yeess,” she breathed.

His hands swept down her belly to lace together in front of her. “I love you, mother of my second child.”

Kathryn stiffened. She opened her eyes, wondering if she had heard him correctly. “Do you mean that?”

Chakotay chuckled softly in her hear, feeling the result shudder through her body. He turned her in his arms, lifting her against the table, pulling her around him. Feeling him press against her centre she closed her eyes, tilting back enough to make him wonder if she might fall. He caught her, pulling her closer.

She looked up at him. “You want to have children with me?”

“Yes, Kathryn.”

“How soon?” she asked.

“Oh, in about seven months,” he mumbled close to her lips.

“I’ll have the village doctor neutralise my boosters . . .” Suddenly she stared up at him, watching his half open eyes gaze down at her. “What did you say?”

“In about seven months,” he repeated.

She stared up at him open mouthed. “Seven months . . .but that would mean I . . .I am?”

Chakotay smiled and gently nodded.

“How do you know? Even I don‘t know that.”

“You ate three jars of gherkins for breakfast, Kathryn. I thought you were sickening for something so I scanned you while you were in the bathroom - throwing up.” He laughed a short laugh. “You honestly had no idea?”

“No. I didn’t.” She smiled. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Chakotay. Are you happy about this? Or is that a silly question?”

“I’m very happy, Kathryn, and yes it was a silly question. I got you back. I have a son whom I love very much, and a home I built with my own hands. And the most beautiful woman to grace it with her presence. She fills me, fills my heart and soul with her love. I could not be happier.”

“Sounds like a wonderful woman. Do I know her?” Chakotay laughed softly and Kathryn grinned. She kissed him then, long and deeply. “My husband,” she said. “Welcome home.”

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