Enmitymine

Enmity Mine

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Premise: Alternate-universe Voyager story. Splits off from our Voyager during "Caretaker", while Janeway and Tuvok are on the Array. After Chakotay sends his ship crashing into the Kazon battleship, the battleship goes crashing into the Array. In canon, Janeway and Tuvok aren't hurt, and Janeway destroys the Array later on.

In this universe, the impact of the Kazon ship causes the Array to explode. BOOM! No Janeway, no Tuvok, no way home. In the absence of any real authority figures left on Voyager, Chakotay and the Maquis commandeer the ship. Much like in "Worst Case Scenario", Chakotay plans to do things more the Maquis way, whatever it takes to get home.

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"ENMITY MINE"

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek:Voyager and all its cast and crew belong to Paramount. I'm taking them out for a spin around the block, but I promise to make them wear their seatbelts.

WARNING: This story is rated PG-13 for language. That's it. No sex. Not even implied sex. I can't believe I really wrote this.

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Chakotay stared out the window of Janeway's office -- correction, *his* office. Damn, it was big. He didn't feel quite comfortable there, yet. It had been over a week, yet he still felt like he was an intruder there. There wasn't too much of Kathryn Janeway evident in the room; after all, they'd only been on the ship a few days, she hadn't had time to unpack before she was killed. Just a few coffee mugs, some personal padds, and one photograph of a smiling man in a grey sweater. A husband? A relative? A lover? Chakotay couldn't guess.

Chakotay sat down at the chair behind the desk, found himself drumming his fingers nervously on the polished surface. They'd supplied Neelix and Kes with ample supplies of water and food in exchange for star charts of the surrounding areas, and had said good-bye two days earlier. It was funny. Chakotay had been starting to like the little guy. And he'd miss Kes, too. She was sweet, and wise beyond her years. Her year. Spirits, she was only one. Chakotay laughed to himself. Hard to believe.

His fingers landed on a padd, carefully separated from the rest. It was from Seska: her proposal to form an alliance with the Kazon. Her ideas made sense; they were one ship, stranded a lifetime away from the Alpha Quadrant, and unless they miraculously found the Caretaker's wife or a wormhole, it was going to be a long, *long* time before they ever saw home again . How could they hope to survive out here, one ship, with no allies? The problem was, Chakotay didn't trust the Kazon at all. On the other hand, Voyager was already in need of massive repair. They'd spent the past week just trying to clean up the mess left behind after the unplanned trip to the Delta Quadrant, and still, almost a quarter of the ship's systems were inoperative.

B'Elanna was doing her best, but the disgruntled Starfleet crew who knew the ship were being none too helpful, and most of the Maquis engineers had no formal training. B'Elanna was already butting heads with Joe Carey, who would otherwise have been in charge down in Engineering. They'd even had a fight the previous day, and B'Elanna had broken his nose.

Chakotay sighed. He didn't want this job, really. Too many problems, too many questions, too few answers. And then there was the *big* problem, the one he couldn't figure out how to handle, the one currently sitting in the brig ...

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Tom got restlessly to his feet and started pacing. Six, seven, eight, nine ... turn. One, two, three ... His feet could do it automatically. He'd walked kilometers over the same small stretch of floor. This was worse than solitary confinement back in Auckland. At least there, they took you out for exercise once a day, let you out for long enough so you wouldn't go nuts.

Maybe that's exactly what Chakotay was trying to do. Drive him insane. Well, it was working. Another day or two of this, he was going to start screaming from sheer boredom. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, nowhere to go. The only breaks in the monotony were when the guards came, silently, to drop off his meals. At least they were feeding him. Not that the food was so great. Some problems with the replicators, probably. They'd gone off-line after the impact with the distortion wave, and they hadn't been fixed before Janeway had been killed.

A wave of depression washed over him, and he sank to the bed. Gods. How did he keep managing to do this to himself? He'd been pretty sure, in prison, that he'd fucked up his life as much as he could have, that he'd hit rock bottom. His only consolation had been that things were so bad, they couldn't possibly get worse, that there was nowhere to go but up.

Well, he'd been wrong. Shit. Another bad decision. It had seemed so easy at the time ... Janeway came to him, offered him a way out of prison, if he'd help her find her missing ship. Better yet, the ship was Chakotay's. Good gods, it was too perfect. Nail the bastard who'd sent him flying into a trap, get out of prison at the same time. Never mind that Janeway thought she'd send him back when the mission was over. He'd find a way out of it, somehow, he was sure.

So he'd gone with Janeway, to help find her damn missing crewmember. Well, they'd found him all right. And now Janeway and Tuvok were dead, and Tom was stuck on the wrong side of the galaxy on a ship under Chakotay's command. Shit. 'What was your price this time?' Sanctimonious asshole. As if he'd have done any differently. Hell, he probably would have. Chakotay would *never* have sold out, he was *way* too self-righteous for that.

Tom dropped his head in his hands and miserably reviewed what he suspected were his only options. 1) Stay in the brig for the next 70 years. 2) Get tossed out an airlock. 3) If he were *very* lucky, get dropped off on a planet somewhere, left to fend for himself.

Damn, it was too depressing to think about. He rose to his feet, and started pacing again. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, turn. One, two, three...

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... four, five, six ... Chakotay was pacing around his office, trying to think calmly. Damn it, of all people, why did it have to be *Paris* who had saved his life? Spirits, the man had probably been placed in this life just to plague him.

The door chime rang. "Come in," he called out.

Seska walked in with B'Elanna. "Captain," Seska said, a hint of a grin on her face.

"Knock it off, Seska," Chakotay replied wearily. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she said, insulted. "B'Elanna and I were going to get dinner, and we thought you might like to join us."

"I'm not hungry," Chakotay said, walking over to the window and staring out at the unfamiliar stars.

"Chakotay," B'Elanna said, "you need to eat. You won't do us any good if you end up in Sickbay. You're the only one holding the crew together. You know that."

He sighed, and nodded, reluctantly. "I know, but I can't eat right now. I have to decide what to do."

"About the Kazon?" Seska said, perking up.

"About the Kazon, too," Chakotay replied. "I was actually thinking about Tom Paris."

"I don't understand why you haven't killed him yet," Seska said, brutally. "We're running low on resources as it is, and he's taking up precious food and energy that we can't afford to waste."

"He saved my life."

"So *I'll* kill him. He only saved you to impress Janeway."

B'Elanna looked at Seska curiously. "Why do you hate him so much? What did he ever do to you?"

Seska frowned. "His father ... ... ... it doesn't matter. He's a traitor. He deserves to die."

Chakotay said, "I'm not sure I want to kill him, Seska."

She made a face. "What other choice is there? You can't keep him in the brig for 70 years."

"I know that. Look, I need to think about this. I don't feel like eating right now, o.k.?"

"O.k.," Seska said reluctantly. "Come on, B'Elanna, let's go."

Chakotay watched them leave, then shook his head and closed his eyes. Suddenly, the office, which moments ago had seemed too big, seemed too small. He had to get out, take a walk, clear his mind.

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Tom was still pacing, not bothering to count his steps, simply unable to sit still any longer. It had been hours since the last meal; he guessed it was almost time for dinner. More barely edible stew, he supposed, made from some kind of tuber which that Neelix fellow had given them.

The outer door to the brig opened, and Tom looked over expectantly. His stomach dropped down to his feet. Oh fuck. Chakotay. His heart started hammering in his chest. Chakotay hadn't come to see him once yet; he'd ordered Tom taken into custody as soon as the Maquis had seized the ship. Maybe he'd decided to kill him, finally. Tom noted the phaser on Chakotay's belt, and felt his knees go a little bit weak. He hadn't included getting shot as one of his options. Chakotay wouldn't shoot him in cold blood, would he? Christ, maybe he would.

He forced a calm mask on his face. Shit, even if he was going to die, there was no way in hell he was going to let Chakotay have the satisfaction of seeing how scared he was. No fucking way.

Chakotay walked up to the cell, gazed at him pensively for a few minutes. Tom grew quickly uncomfortable with the scrutiny, and with the silence, but for once in his life, he had no idea what to say.

Finally, Chakotay spoke. "How are you?"

Tom stared at him stupidly for a minute. "How *am* I? How do you *think* I am?"

Chakotay ignored the sarcasm. "Are you all right?"

Tom gave up. This was beyond him. "I'm fine. What do you want, 'Captain'?"

Chakotay's face hardened. "I'm trying to figure out what to do with you."

"Having difficulty making up your mind?"

"You could say that."

"I should have let you die down there."

"Maybe you should have. Why didn't you?"

"I'm too soft-hearted. Besides, I wanted the satisfaction of punching you later. Unfortunately, I never got the chance."

"No."

"Is that why you haven't killed me yet? Because I saved your life?"

"Yes."

"Are you still deciding whether or not to kill me?"

"Yes." Chakotay's face was impassive.

Tom felt suddenly sick to his stomach, but he controlled his face. "Lots of people urging you to do it?"

"Some."

"Yeah, I guess no one here would care if you did." He was trying to sound flippant, but heard the tremor in his voice and cursed it.

"Harry Kim would care. He asked me to not to kill you."

Tom smiled briefly in spite of himself. "Figures. How is Harry?"

"He's pretty upset at how things turned out."

"This was his first mission. Fresh out of the Academy. Be gentle with him, o.k., Chakotay? He's just a kid."

Chakotay nodded. "He's tougher than you think. He'll be fine." He looked at Tom, speculatively. "He thinks I should let you out of the brig, and let you join the crew."

Tom snorted. "I'd be dead in a week."

"If you lived even that long."

"You don't want to keep me locked up in here for 70 years, though."

"Not really."

"Tough problem."

"Yes. Got any ideas?"

"You could drop me off on a planet somewhere."

Chakotay looked at him thoughtfully. "You'd never make it back to the Alpha Quadrant. You'd never get home."

Tom shrugged. "It's better than being dead." He looked Chakotay squarely in the eyes for a second before the older man tore his glance away, uncomfortable. Tom laughed bitterly. "You don't want to do that either. I get off too easy that way? The Maquis want me punished."

Chakotay admitted it. "Yes."

"Shit."

"The easiest thing would be to kill you."

"Not easy for me."

"No, I suppose not."

Tom stared at him, saw the indecision in Chakotay's eyes, and nodded slowly. "You can't stand this. You don't want to kill me, because I saved your life. Sorry, Big Man. Sometimes life just sucks that way. The hard decisions are *hard*."

Chakotay turned away, hands clenched into fists. "I don't even know why I came down here."

"To gloat. Admit it, Chakotay, you get a kick out of knowing I'm stuck in here, that I live or die based on your word."

"I'm not enjoying this."

"Bullshit."

"I'm *not*. Seska's telling me to kill you and get it over with already. Some of the other Maquis would rather have you executed publicly, and Harry Kim is in my office every day begging me to spare your life, reminding me how you saved mine. Believe it or not, Paris, this isn't how I like to spend my days."

Tom snorted. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for you now?"

"No," Chakotay said, suddenly exhausted. "I'm leaving." He turned for the door.

"Wait." Tom's voice was quiet.

"What is it?" Chakotay turned around slowly, half afraid that Tom was going to plead for his life. Gods, no, as if this wasn't bad enough already. When he was facing the cell, though, Tom was sitting on the bed, looking at him with nothing but resignation written on his face.

"Chakotay, I'm not going to beg you ... I mean, that life-debt thing, it's crap, I know that, but ... I'm going crazy in here, alone like this. You're the only one who's talked to me since I was locked up." He shook his head, once, slowly. "Could you let Harry come in, once in a while? Or at least give me something to read. Something. I can't take this any more."

Chakotay knew that if it had been Seska standing here, she'd have turned and walked out without bothering to reply. Of course, if it had been Seska, Tom wouldn't have bothered to ask. Chakotay was almost tempted to leave, let Paris sit here and rot, who cares if he was bored, but he looked at Tom's face, saw the silent pleading there, and came to a quick decision. "I'll send Kim down with some padds for you. You'll be monitored while he's here."

Tom nodded. "I know." He swallowed heavily, closed his eyes, and forced the words out. "Thank you."

Chakotay looked at him measuringly. "Don't thank me. I still might decide to kill you."

"I know that, too."

Chakotay took one last look, turned back for the door, and left the brig.

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A week later, Chakotay was no closer to a decision than he had been. Seska was in his quarters again, still pressing him to make an alliance with the Kazon.

"I told you already," Chakotay said, beginning to lose his patience, "I'm not willing to do that. I don't trust them."

"They're powerful, Chakotay," Seska said. "We need friends like that."

"They enslaved the Ocampans," he answered back. "They use fear to intimidate. I don't want those kind of friends."

Seska blew out air angrily. "Fine. You're going to regret it, Chakotay."

"Maybe I will."

She rounded the table, sat on the edge near him. "What are you going to do about the crew?"

"What about the crew?" Chakotay asked, lost.

"They're getting restless. The Starfleet crew don't respect your command, and the Maquis think you've gone soft. I've heard it from more than one person. You're going to have to do something to re-establish your authority, Chakotay. Something to convince them that *you* are the captain of this ship."

"What do you suggest?"

"Kill Tom Paris." Chakotay opened his mouth to protest, but Seska silenced him. "The longer you let him sit in the brig, the more the Maquis distrust your motives. He sold us out to Starfleet, Chakotay."

"And you think he deserves to die for that?"

"Yes. I'm not the only one."

Chakotay looked at her carefully. "You've changed, Seska. Since we got out here, you're different. Harder."

"I'm adapting," she said, shrugging. "You need to adapt, too. Too many people are depending on you to get them home. You can't do that if the crew doesn't respect your authority." She reached into his desk, handed him a phaser. "Do it, Chakotay. It's the only way."

Chakotay stared at the phaser for a long time. The only way ... the only way to consolidate his authority, to show that he was firmly in command, and, not the least, to punish the man for his treason ... one life weighed against the lives of many ... Slowly, woodenly, he reached out to her and took the weapon, then stood up. "Let's go."

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Harry was there, again. Tom had told him, a few days ago, that these visits were the only thing keeping him sane, and Harry had looked at him very seriously, and promised to come every day, for 70 years, if that's what it took.

Sweet. Harry wa