"Where are they now?" Janeway asked Tuvok, who had joined her in her Ready Room.

"Temporarily, they have been put into Cargo Bay 2. May I remind you, that we do not have adequate Security to cover the ship, and I would suggest that you not allow them access above Deck 15."

"Agreed. But eventually we're going to have to resolve this," She said with a weary sigh. "We can't have them confined to Deck 15 and sleeping on cots in a Cargo Bay for the next seventy years."

Seventy years! She thought to herself. What had she been thinking? She knew what she had done, even as she was issuing the order for the destruction of the Array. Disobeying the Prime Directive, and practically the moment they were out of Space Dock. How was she going to explain this to Headquarters? The Goddamned Prime Directive. She knew in her heart it was the right thing, the moral thing to do, but it sure hurt a hell of a lot more when it was her shoulders the decision rested on. How many people of her own had she lost, flung halfway across the galaxy? She didn't have an official count yet, as events had taken place too quickly to be bothered with something as mundane as casualty lists. Her First Officer, Cavit. The Helmsman, Stadi. These she knew of because she was there, but how many others? Was there even enough personnel left to effectively run the ship? What about clean-up and repair crews? If everyone was needed just for ship's operations, how would they effect the necessary repairs? And what about the Maquis? True, she had them now, but what did she do with them? Her original plan had been to take Chakotay into custody, place him in the Brig, and tow his ship and crew back to Deep Space Nine. That was no longer an option. Besides the daunting time factor, there were just too many of them to jail. Kathryn rubbed the bridge of her nose and slid her hand across her forehead. There were so many variables, so many decisions to make. Stabilize the ship first. That was her top priority. Worry about the rest as it came.

"Tuvok, organize repair crews and see what you can do about getting me some damage reports, and," she said, voice cracking, "lets try to get a complete list of casualties."

"Aye, Captain. I believe it would be in the best interest of all of us if you would try to get some rest. We have a lot of work ahead of us, and the ship and crew will not benefit from an exhausted leader."

She gave him a tired smile. "Thanks, Tuvok, I'll see what I can do. Tuvok?"

He quirked an eyebrow in response to her question.

"It's good to have you back, my friend."

"It is good to be back, Captain."

*********

Down in Cargo Bay 2 the scene was almost complete bedlam. Most of the Maquis were pacing the confines of the bay, or standing in small groups shouting at one another. Arguments about what would happen next, and what did that bitch on the Bridge think she was doing destroying their only way home. Chakotay sat quietly on top of an empty dilithium container, trying to tune out the chaos around him. He felt the same frustrations his people did, but tried to deal with it in a different way. The noise in the bay was almost unbearable as the Maquis continued to argue, each one shouting louder than the last in an effort to be heard. He knew they needed to blow off this steam, so said nothing as the volume continued to escalate. That is until he heard someone refer to the Captain as that "bitch on the Bridge." He didn't know Janeway from a hole in the wall, beyond what had happened down on the Ocampa homeworld, but he felt some need to protect her honor. Maybe it was his Starfleet training which, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to exorcise. His ingrained sense of command protocols that wouldn't allow them to defame a fellow Captain.

"That's enough!" He roared, jumping down from his perch on the containers. His bare feet hit the floor with a thud, and the sound echoed through the now silent chamber.

"This isn't what any of us had planned, but it happened! At least we're still alive! And regardless what you may think, Janeway is the Captain and your fate is in her hands, whether you like it or not!" He was staring at B'Elanna and Seska, who seemed to be among some of the more vocal dissenters. Gerron was off by himself, trying hard not to cry, but he was losing the battle. Dalby clapped him on the shoulder and assured him that everything would be all right, even though he himself didn't feel quite so optimistic.

"They can't just leave us down here forever!" Seska protested, the only one who had the nerve to challenge Chakotay when he was in his current mood.

"I doubt that's what they have in mind," Chakotay said quietly, his anger rapidly evaporating. But he had no clue what was going through the Captain's thoughts either. It was anyone's guess.

Chakotay looked at his bedraggled legion. All they had were the clothes on their back, and they weren't much to speak of. Scorched and stained from their recent battles, he knew they all could use some rest. He began to organize teams to hand out the food and blankets Janeway had provided them, and another group to set up the cots that had been delivered as well. There was no question they were being confined to the Cargo Bay, but at least there were a few comforts.

B'Elanna sneered at the Starfleet ration pack. "I never thought I'd eat one of these again."

"At least one you hadn't stolen," Lon Suder added.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, as they tried to comprehend what this latest twist of fate had in store for them. Life in the Maquis meant living on the edge, and they were accustomed to unexpected events upturning their lives, but at least they had always felt in control of their destiny. Chakotay was their leader; they had complete faith in his judgment and his decisions. If he felt something good could possibly come out of this situation, then maybe it could.

*********

Chakotay stood in the Ready Room, before Janeway's desk, unconsciously at attention. She had been somewhat nervous about this meeting, but his guarded look of curiosity put a portion of her fears to rest. As a Maquis, she had expected him to come storming into her office, angry, demanding that his people be allowed to leave their make-shift prison. Instead, he calmly waited to see what her judgment would be.

"Captain Chakotay," she started, calling him by the title his people did, rather than his former Starfleet rank. "You and I still seem to have a problem."

The ends of his mouth curled up as a beginning of a smile. "And that would be?"

Janeway was slightly taken aback. "I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you. Where should I begin? With the fact that we're seventy years from the Alpha Quadrant? The fact that over a quarter of my crew is dead? I've got a Cargo Bay full of outlaws? My ship is falling apart at the seams? Energy reserves are low, and unless we find a way to replace the dilithium, we're not going to make it much beyond this star system? Shall I continue?"

"I think that covers the major points," he said. His question had actually been rhetorical, she just didn't know his sense of humor.

Chakotay was fully aware of the obstacles that faced them. Faced them all, not just the Maquis. Although he hadn't been aware of the extent of Voyager's damage, he knew the ship was operating at less than peak performance. Over a quarter of her crew dead? He was surprised to discover he wasn't filing the information away to be used against her, to take the ship. Instead, he found himself wondering what could be done to remedy the situation, how he and the Maquis might be able to help. The thought truly surprised him, so much so, that he didn't hear her last words.

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked you to have a seat. Are you feeling all right? You seem awfully distracted. We lost our doctor, but we do have an Emergency Medical Hologram if you. . . ."

"I'm fine," he snapped, embarrassed at having been caught with his mind drifting. "You were saying?"

Kathryn tried to refocus on the points she wanted to address. The man before her was such an enigma, she found *herself* distracted. They actually had very little interaction, even with their forced alliance to rescue Kim and Torres. They had worked as a team, but she had been consumed with her goal, not who was helping her achieve it. Now she had time to examine the man before her. Physically, he was attractive, although he could do with some cleaning up. What puzzled her the most was his demeanor. She hadn't expected him to be so calm. So accepting of his fate. Where was the fierce Maquis rebel that was the terror of the Demilitarized Zone? She hardly would have credited the man before her with the acts of treason and sabotage Starfleet had ascribed to him. And yet she did sense a resolve within him, a strength of character that said he could be a formidable opponent, should he choose to be.

"As I stated before, I've lost a good portion of my crew." Kathryn's voice wavered slightly, but she quickly reigned in her emotions as she continued. "This ship cannot function with the number of people I have left, and it's a little unrealistic to keep your people confined for the better part of a century." When she phrased it like that, it sounded so hopeless.

"Agreed," he said cautiously. "What are you proposing?"

"I think we should join our crews, but it will have to be a Starfleet crew. Upholding Starfleet principles and procedures."

"That might be a little difficult," he sighed. "For one, there's no love lost among the Maquis for Starfleet, surely you must realize that."

"I do. Continue."

"I don't know if they'll be able to function under 'Starfleet principles and procedures.' The Maquis are freedom fighters. True, they've come together as a unit, but they've had no formal training, nothing to prepare them for the strict structure of a command hierarchy."

"I think you're selling yourself short, Captain," Janeway said, accessing her computer terminal with his Starfleet records. "Lieutenant Commander of the USS Merrimac, Tactical Officer, specializing in commando training," she quoted. "Do you honestly expect me to believe you didn't take advantage of your Starfleet training to instruct your troops? That there was no chain of command among the Maquis? I think your people have the basic concept of how to work within a hierarchy."

Chakotay rubbed his chin. She had him there. He certainly had delegated responsibility, but his putting someone in charge of a mission was hardly the same as adhering to Starfleet protocols. Maquis took things into their own hands, living by the precept of "if you want something done right, you do it yourself." If everyone under his command had consulted him, asked permission to perform a duty he knew they were capable of, they wouldn't have gotten anywhere. He trusted his people to take care of business without being second-guessed.

And he had taken advantage of what Starfleet had given him. Perhaps he saw it as his compensation for the Federation's refusal to help the colonies in the DMZ. He hadn't felt he had betrayed Starfleet, Starfleet had betrayed him. He had always believed the organization had stood for the truth, the good of the citizens of the Federation. It was one of the reasons he had been so eager to join them. When he discovered Federation politics and his ideals were at odds, he felt devastated, betrayed. It wasn't a hard decision, morally, to join the Maquis, but it had caused him a good deal of mental anguish that he had walked away from the commitment he had made to Starfleet. He didn't take his commitments to anything lightly, not his People, not the Maquis.

As if she could sense the direction of his thoughts, Janeway asked him, "Why did you leave Starfleet?"

"Is this the oral part of my exam?" he asked, trying to change the subject with his sarcastic comment.

"This isn't an 'exam.' I was hoping to understand your motivations."

"I was under the impression you didn't have a counselor on board."

"Look, 'Captain,'" she said, emphasizing what she saw as an undeserved rank, "I don't have to do this. You can choose to be uncooperative, that's fine with me. I'll find a way to get this ship home with or without your help. I just thought you were a big enough person to look beyond your personal distaste for Starfleet for the good of your people. I see I was wrong. I'll have Tuvok escort you back to the Cargo Bay." A muscle in her cheek twitched as she clenched her jaw. Perhaps Chakotay was fitting the stereotypical image she had of him after all.

Chakotay stared at the woman across the desk from him. If he thought her momentary slip into emotionalism over her lost crew was a sign of softness on her part, he had been mistaken. The person before him was all Captain. All Starfleet Captain, with all that implied. Her blue eyes, that held compassion only a short time before, now bored into his, cold as ice. Her severe hairstyle seemed out of place with her delicate features, and he wondered if she wore it that way as a means of imposing authority, her no-nonsense approach to command reflected in her personal appearance. He didn't like seeing her this way. He had much preferred the congenial, albeit cautious person she had been when he had entered the room.

"I'm sorry, Captain, he apologized. "As you can imagine, it's rather a sore spot with me. I've been called 'traitor' more times than I can count." Kathryn found herself empathizing with his reaction to her question, but still felt he should tell her why he left. She wasn't about to offer him the second-highest rank on her ship without some kind of explanation as to why he felt he couldn't remain in Starfleet.

Chakotay took a deep breath. "I was on the Merrimac, as you said, when I got word that my father had been killed during a Cardassian raid on Dorvan V. That's my People's homeworld," he clarified. "Of course I felt for my People's plight, living in a disputed area, but I held fast to my belief that the Federation and Starfleet were doing the right thing, by upholding the agreement they had made with the Cardassians. It didn't matter that the Cardassians broke the treaty every chance they got, the Federation was determined to keep their end of the bargain. I returned home, to see to my father's burial, and what I encountered horrified me. When I had recently been back, there was a thriving community. Happy, contented people, pleased just to be contributing to a part of the whole. But what I saw the last time I was there. . . ." his voice trailed off, choking with unshed tears. Chakotay looked at his hands, resting in his lap, unable to meet her gaze. Clearing his throat, he continued.

"Buildings were in ruins, filth and poverty were everywhere. People trying to get enough to eat, to find water that wasn't contaminated. These People, these gentle souls who had never hurt or threatened anyone, were on the verge of annihilation simply because their world fell on the wrong side of a line they had no decision in drawing. I couldn't believe that the Federation, that Starfleet, would sit by and do nothing while these People, and hundreds of other colonies, suffered. But I had been there. I had been on one of those ships patrolling the DMZ who turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to pleas for help. I was so disgusted with my self, I remember getting sick, vomiting until there was nothing left. It was as if I were trying to expel the part of me that belonged to Starfleet. Then I became angry. It consumed me until all I ever felt was rage. The only time I felt any peace in my life was when I was watching one of our successful strikes. But no matter how many ships we destroyed, how many munitions installations we blew up, it didn't bring back the dead among my People, didn't restore their way of life. But by the time this realization set in, it was too late. There was no turning back; Cardassia and Starfleet had warrants out for my arrest. The rest, you know."

Kathryn was silent, but the effect of his story was written on her face. She truly felt sorry for what his People had endured. And, he knew, she could understand his actions. It didn't mean she condoned them, but she did understand the motivation behind them. All this was conveyed with a look, but they both understood.

Now it was Kathryn's turn to clear her throat of the emotion lodged there. "Thank you. For telling me," she said. "I know it wasn't easy."

"You're the first person I've ever told that to," he confessed. "Most of the Maquis have the same story, only the names have been changed, so there was never any need to tell it." Chakotay was surprised he had been so forthcoming with his story. He could have simply stated he was fed up with Federation politics and left it at that, but he felt a need to tell her. A need for her to understand there had been a valid reason he had cast off his alliance with Starfleet. For some reason, her opinion of him was starting to matter.

"I understand your reasons for what you did, and I'm not sure how Starfleet will choose to deal with you *when* we return," she emphasized, it was not a matter of "if" with her. "But I would like you to consider putting on the uniform again and accepting a field commission of Commander."

Chakotay couldn't have been more shocked if she'd suddenly given an order for the self-destruction of her ship. "You want me to WHAT?"

"I think you heard me."

"B. . .But I don't understand. . .you've captured us! We're your prisoners!"

"Technically, yes. But I think I've already explained my reasoning on this. Like it or not, we're stuck out here. I don't have enough people to run this ship properly, and you have no other ride home." She watched him, trying to gauge his response. Do you think you're capable of being a First Officer on this ship? A Starfleet officer?"

He knew what she was asking. Would he perform his duties to the best of his abilities and uphold the principles of Starfleet? Or would he toss his promise of loyalty out the window when the next moral cross-roads presented itself? He hadn't had one moment's regret he'd done the right thing when he joined the Maquis, but, if he were truthful with himself, he had missed Starfleet. He had been satisfied with his career, and he probably would have been promoted to Captain by now, with his own ship, that no doubt would have been the pride of the Fleet. Perhaps, if he hadn't defected, even *Voyager* might have been his.

"I'm flattered, truly, but shouldn't Tuvok be promoted to First Officer?" he finally managed to say.

"Yes, the post is rightfully his, and I'm not going to lie to you. You weren't my first choice, but I need a strong Maquis presence in the command structure to help keep your people in line. More than likely they wouldn't listen to me, but if you back me up, I think it might carry a little more weight."

Chakotay mulled over his choices. Either he could become Starfleet again and have nearly the same power he had on his own ship, or decline her offer and join the rest of the Maquis and be assigned as a crewman in some mundane capacity. And there was the question of where he could be of the most benefit to the Maquis. Was there really a choice? But how did he put that uniform on and face his people? He had betrayed Starfleet to become Maquis, and now he was being asked to betray his loyalties to the Maquis to return to the institution he had come to think of as self-serving. Now that he had time and distance to think about Starfleet, he realized that the organization was just a pawn, the last step of the Federation's "buck-passing." And that most of the people in Starfleet didn't agree with the treaty, but either didn't have the convictions or the balls to walk away. Out here there was no moral issue with the Federation. No treaty. No DMZ. No reason for a Maquis. But there *was* a reason this had to be a Starfleet ship. A Starfleet crew. They needed the structure, the discipline of a military establishment to preserve peace between opposing viewpoints and different ways of approaching a situation. It wouldn't be easy, but it might make the difference when it came to integrating the crews.

Finally, Chakotay spoke. "I accept. I'll try to be the best First Officer I can, and, to ensure this will be a Starfleet crew, no matter how long it takes for us to become one. I'm not saying it's going to happen overnight. There's going to be a lot of argument from my people, but I think, eventually, they'll come around."

Janeway stood and extended her hand with a smile. "Thank you, Commander," she said, trying his new title on for size, "welcome to Voyager."

*********

Tuvok stood silent in the turbo-lift, eyes front, standing at attention as if he were waiting for an inspection. Chakotay's posture was a bit less rigid, but he was no more relaxed. It was the first time he'd been alone with his former shipmate since coming aboard Voyager, and he found himself at a loss for what to say. If he told the Vulcan what he was really thinking, he might not be able to keep his anger in check. He was irate with Tuvok's betrayal, but more so with himself, at his lack of vision. How many more spys were there among his ranks that he was too naive to see? Tuvok could probably tell him, he was sure the man missed nothing.

"Where are we going?" Chakotay asked, the silence beginning to physically weigh on him.

"The Captain has assigned you quarters, and she has asked me to escort you to them," he answered in his usual non-commital tone.

"I could have asked the computer for directions. Why did she send you? Still doesn't trust me?"

"Commander," he stated calmly, eyes still resting on the doors before him, " I can not say why she has requested that I accompany you, other than as a measure to force us together to resolve our. . .differences."

Chakotay snorted. "The Vulcan tendency for understatement has never ceased to amaze me."

"Vulcan's do not understate, or overstate, we simply present the facts."

"Whatever," Chakotay said, feeling no desire to patch things up with the Security Chief. Not yet. Perhaps in time he'd get over his hurt at the man's duplicity and his own blindness, but today wasn't the day. Gods, this ride was taking forever! It was only three decks, what took so long? Just then the doors opened with a whoosh of air and Tuvok stepped off. He was somewhat gratified that Tuvok was equally anxious to be rid of the confines of the lift as well.

"Whose quarters were these?" Chakotay asked, not that it made much difference as he probably wouldn't have known the occupant anyway.

"Commander Cavit's," Tuvok stated, almost bitterly.

Had he known the man? Chakotay wondered. Considered him a friend? Vulcan's had little need for many friendships, and he already knew of Tuvok's relationship with the Captain. No doubt it was the only other personal contact he felt he required.

"You think she's wrong, don't you?"

"Commander?"

"The Captain," Chakotay clarified. "You think she's wrong in making me First Officer over you."

This time Tuvok stared him straight in the eyes. "I admit, I find her faith in you a little unsettling, and not without consequence, but if you are implying that I harbor ill wishes towards you personally because of the rank she has conferred upon you, then you are mistaken. I am not prone to jealousy, professional or otherwise. If you sense a reluctance in me, it is that I am not sure whether any of us can trust you."

This was the conversation he had been hoping to avoid in the turbo-lift, but he couldn't stop himself now. "Trust *me?* After the faith I placed in you, you have the audacity to imply that you can't trust *me?*"

"It is precisely why I feel I can not trust you now. You feel taken advantage of, and it is human nature to want to extract retribution for those feelings."

"Not this human's nature," he said. "I made a promise to your Captain, to our Captain, that I would uphold the principles of Starfleet, that includes trying to put my Maquis past behind me. I will not do anything to jeopardize this ship, or its crew, Starfleet or Maquis."

Tuvok keyed the access code into the door lock on the First Officers quarters. "I will leave you to settle in," he said, turning to leave, apparently deciding their conversation had been concluded.

"What about my crew?" Chakotay asked.

"What about them?"

"When do they get they get out of the Cargo bay and get quarters?"

"That is up to the Captain," Tuvok said, and left him in the deserted corridor.

On to part 3