Kathryn Janeway eased her way into the rocking chair, closing her eyes briefly as the chair moved. She was tired, very tired, and with a full month to go she was becoming impatient to have it over and done with, and hold her baby in her arms. The thought brought a wild elation in her. She opened her eyes and caressed her belly, then sighed as she looked around her. The room was very beautiful, something that she had not imagined and a complete surprise when she stepped into it a few nights ago. She adored the mobile. It was something she and Chakotay "discussed" when they had been pregnant the first time.

"Starships. No contest."

"Not even a little Treevis dangling about?" he had asked, looking disappointed. He was losing the round and she reveled heartlessly in beating him.

"Oh, no! The Treevises and Flotters we keep for wall appliqués. Mickey and Minnie Mouse, too. Starships, it is."

Chakotay, though beaten, was not going to give up that easily.

"So, I'm not to have a hand in it? Me, the builder of cribs and chairs and er...tubs?"

She had forgotten about her tub. She shook her head and batted her eyelids at him, not minding a bit at sounding feminist and feminine, thrilling inside when he caved in.

"See, there we women get the last say in these baby things."

Chakotay had given her a sound kiss, then pushed him off her lap.

"Fine, have it your way then. I'll sleep on the couch - "

She recanted instantly.

"Then again, I'd love to have our eagles part of the mobile..."

She had waited with baited breath, loving him fiercely when his face broke into a slow, knowing smile.

"You were always going to have the eagles on, Kathryn..."

How could they not tumble into bed after that and make sweet love?

Kathryn touched her stomach protectively, smiling every time the baby kicked as if she felt her mother's thoughts. The decision to move back had not been difficult after all. Her fear that it might trigger memories of Chakotay and Sedeka together, with those terrifying pictures of them, had been unfounded when in fact, the opposite happened. She remembered their good times, their intimate moments; she remembered how impatient he had been for his leg to heal, how he hadn't wanted her to go with him to hospital.. So many images flooded inside her.

She couldn't fix the two eagles, so she placed them side by side on the mantelpiece. It was one of the few things Chakotay left here . Above the mantelpiece was the sand painting Chakotay had completed even before he met her officially. He always claimed it was her, even when he didn't know her at all. Chakotay had taken most of his things, even his medicine wheel. But she had gradually, over the past few days, filled up their home again. There were pictures, copies of his favourite books in the little bookshelf they shared and even his favourite mug he used for the odd cup of coffee he drank. In the lounge, just behind the couch, she hung a large, framed photograph of him. She wasn't overly sentimental, but she thought of her child, too. Hannah would know her father, no matter where in the universe he would be.

She pictured Chakotay on the occasions he sat in his armchair in the lounge, reading a book, or studying reports, always working on new strategies and maneuvers, giving her a tender smile when she touched his shoulder to tell him dinner was ready.

She was able for once to put those bad memories a little behind her. They were still there, but at least, she could look at them with a rational mind that she'd not allow them to hurt her anymore. She had a baby to think of... She gave a little sigh. Now, thoughts of the baby, of Hannah...swarmed into her when in the early months all she could think of was Chakotay's defection to another woman, and the baby he made with her. Hannah took up all her thoughts. Hannah and Chakotay. It was perhaps a little late, but she decided, never too late. Now she could look at her swollen abdomen and dream dreams of Hannah, of the three of them together again, if he'll have her. Her reactions those first times had all but convinced her he'll not come to her, never speak with her... She sent him away. Her mother was right, she realised belatedly.

Yes, it had been a good decision to come back. This was their home, a home they made together, where they shared intimacies so tender it made her want to weep; where they laughed and they cried at the height of their lovemaking. In this home he helped her through the trauma of her miscarriage, in this home they made love for the first time, in this home he proposed to her. She gave a tender little smile. Yes, in this home she fought with him, battled to get him to hospital - her own warrior who was so injection shy.

Kathryn had braved Phoebe's annoyance, welcomed her mother's blessing and called Mark to help her move. She was finding Hannah a real weight and moving about as briskly as she had done before, was becoming tiring. Dalene had gone offworld with Andreas and the children, and though she would have liked her friend to give her a hand moving in again, she settled for Mark. She was in no mood to do battle with Phoebe who had adopted such a clannish attitude, wanting to protect her older sister from the likes of a man "who betrayed you, Kate." So, Mark was more than happy to help her while he was currently home before going to the Greater Federation Conference at Deep Space Nine.

Mark had been cheerful, glad that she still remained friends with him even in the current circumstances. He had made good on his promise that he wanted to be her friend. He had arrived in Indiana with a huge, pink, stuffed teddy bear, the biggest thing she had ever seen.

"I'm not going to ask where you got that," she said as she tried to hold the giant teddy up while at the same time trying to hold herself up.

"Then don't. It's not for you. Hannah will be able to sleep on it. Look..." Then he showed her some hidden zippers and openings and folds and without fumbling like she just assumed he would, Mark converted the bear into a camp style bed.

"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed.

He had given her a tender, quirky smile.

"I'm still your friend, Kathryn..."

"I appreciate that, Mark."

She really did. Even knowing that Chakotay was no longer a part of her life, Mark never gloated, nor referred to the day in the gardens at Starfleet Headquarters when he had given her a gentle warning and spoke about his fear that she might get hurt again. In fact, she had never seen Mark so concerned, so ready to make things comfortable for her "for you to be ready when Chakotay returns..."

"You seem certain of that, Mark."

"I am. No man who could love you the way Chakotay does could ever stay away from you."

"It's been a difficult time, you know."

"I know, but the way I also know Kathryn Janeway, she will put things in the right context and then, the healing will start."

"Spoken like a true counsellor."

"Don't mock, me," he said smartly. "Come, are you ready to move in?"

When he had to leave again after helping her move back, she rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Mark."

"You're welcome, Kathryn." He looked at her stomach. "You sure you don't want a friend to be present at Hannah's birth?"

She shook her head and pushed him gently to the door.

"Phoebe has already appropriated that right," she told him. "She's not going to give that up."

"I guess not. See you next week, then."

He had left and she returned to the nursery. Only then she could look properly at what had been done as she turned the light to low illumination. The glow swelled into the room, and one by one items of furniture stood out. She gasped when she saw the crib. Walking to it slowly, she touched the side bar and looked into it, her eyes filling with tears. Through the sheen she tried to take in the details - the frilled padding, the pink satin pillow with Hannah's name embroidered on it; Hannah's name on the headboard, which she knew Chakotay must have written there in his flowing cursive style. Loving hands built the crib, she thought with awe. Loving hands...

She touched the pillow, caressed the smooth fabric and only when the pillow moved slightly, did she see something sticking out.

Carefully she pulled out the folded paper, tied with a light blue satin ribbon. Chakotay had written her numerous little surprise notes when they lived here, and he always just folded the sheets and tied them with a shiny little ribbon.

"Chakotay..." she murmured softly she held the letter in her hand, the other hand going instinctively to her stomach. At that moment Hannah kicked right against her hand and Kathryn smiled indulgently. "She heard your name, Chakotay..."

Kathryn sat down in the rocking chair, noting idly how beautiful it was. The dark wood gleamed and felt smooth to her touch. Her heart thudded wildly. Chakotay had written her. It was a thought that lifted her a little. No, she thought. Not a little.

A lot.

Kathryn took the ribbon off and opened the letter. She drew in her breath, then let it out slowly as she started to read...

"So that's where my missing credits went to," she murmured softly.

"Tomorrow is your birthday..." she murmured. "I'm back in our home, Chakotay... Happy birthday..."

Kathryn sighed again. She cried that night, cried long and hard. Cried for what she had lost, cried for Chakotay who tried his best to give her reassurances, for Hannah whom she finally came to love.

Hannah.

After Sergei and Svetlana's visit, it had done something to her. It gave her a connection to Chakotay, a message that he still loved her with all his heart. She had been terrified that he would leave her forever and never return, even if she asked him to come back. The knowledge that he would still always look out for her and Hannah, made her heart soar again.

Now she could hope, now she could plan for her baby. She gave a shrug. For a long time she had been a frozen block of ice, not wanting to think about Chakotay and what he had done, not wanting to think. She had come very, very close to hating her baby.

She came so close to hating her baby...

Kathryn look at her heavy, swollen belly.

She loved Hannah. How could she not? How could she not? Hannah was a part of her and a part of Chakotay.

If she dared to admit it to herself....

"I love you, Chakotay..." came the soft admission, and with it, the tears.

She had been thinking so much the last few days since Sergei and Svetlana's visit to Indiana.

Chakotay's face the night she found them together... He had been distraught. If she pushed aside her own panic, her own frantic and irrational desire to run as far away as she could from the reality and distilled all Chakotay's expressions, his words, his stammering, his...body language... into a few sentences, then...

It didn't fit.

It had been a revelation as blinding as when Paul found the flash of light from heaven above him on the Damascus road. Kathryn could picture Sedeka and Chakotay together now far more rationally and clinically than the painful recollections of before. Even if he didn't love her, even if they were only great friends, it didn't feel like Chakotay. It was a belated realisation, brought on by Sergei's visit, Chakotay's letter, her own continued yearning for him. Now she could actually look on the episode with a dispassionate air and see the real tragedy of how her own reaction hurt him too. She couldn't help the way she reacted; in that she admitted reluctantly, she was as human as the next person. She had never in her entire life of regarding herself as a sane, rational and excessively disciplined individual, thought that she could fold like she did the day she saw Chakotay and Sedeka together. She was strong, wasn't she? She could handle any crisis, couldn't she? She ran a starship efficiently, like the disciplined Starfleet officer she was trained to be, wasn't she? So why, when her emotional equilibrium was tested to its brink, did she react in such a way, so completely unlike an efficient Captain who could remain unruffled in any crisis?

No, she decided. She couldn't help her reaction.

"I am just human...like everyone else, not exempt from the forces that could break me...I was human..." she murmured to herself as she stroked her belly, her heart lifting as Hannah responded.

Chakotay...

She could analyse the look on his face. The two times he had contacted her, his stance when in this very home she told him she was leaving and that everything was over between them... Chakotay looked like she ripped the floor from under him.

No, there were no tears. Chakotay wept at times, mostly during their most private and intimate moments of lovemaking when he would whisper brokenly how he would never be able to exist without her... She didn't expect tears, but also, she didn't expect the completely lost look he had about him. He looked like he wanted to die. In her distraught, hurt state, she had unwittingly done something terrible that day: she had reinforced his guilt and remorse and taken from him the will to fight for her.

It didn't fit, what she saw him do with Sedeka. What truth did he allude to in the letter? What was it that he wanted to tell her that day just after Sedeka told her she was pregnant? Kathryn had always assumed that Sedeka's pregnancy was what Chakotay wanted to confirm. And why, if that were true, would he tell his wife that his lover was pregnant? Wasn't that something a man wouldn't want his wife to know?

Now, looking back, and picturing Chakotay's expression, hearing his words, analysing phrase by stammering phrase, it was something else he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her something else!

The truth?

No, what he and Sedeka did, never fit.

It never did.

He had been too upset, and she had been too distressed to acknowledge that Chakotay could feel bad about what happened.

Her mother was right, and so was Sergei when they more or less told her there was more to it than met the eye. Only, her eyes had been glazed with pain then, and her heart broken and burning with shame and humiliation at feeling inadequate, at knowing her husband could do that to her.

Chakotay would never knowingly hurt her.

Never knowingly.

Something wasn't right. Chakotay had to be inebriated, brought on not by his own hand, of that she was dead certain. He rarely drank alcohol, sipped champagne and table wine with her when they felt like it. When once she asked him why he avoided anything with a high alcohol content, his answer had been succinct.

"I need to be in control, at all times, Kathryn. I hate to be drunk and not in control. Of course, when I make love to my wife, it's a different matter."

She had laughed it off then, been pleasantly surprised at his stance. Now, bringing that statement into perspective, Chakotay's behaviour lacked control of the kind he said. Sedeka must have done something...

The way the talks went on Dorvan V... Was it a way of getting rid of him? Kathryn thought. It had to be, and then perhaps, Sedeka got caught up in her own snare she set Chakotay.

"I should know," Kathryn murmured again. "Chakotay is in my blood, and all he had to do was smile..."

Kathryn thought again of Chakotay's letter. Her heart warmed as she remembered certain lines, his avowal that he loved her, that he never stopped. He gave her assurance that Sedeka wasn't pregnant, that she'd never bother them again and she believed Chakotay.

She believed him, now. Implicitly.

Kathryn wiped the tears from her cheek, She hadn't realised how they were streaming down her face. She felt hope again. One day, as Chakotay said, he'll tell her everything; he'll tell her the truth and she will believe him.

But she didn't need the truth now, to believe him...to believe in him.

She rose from the rocking chair and grimaced at her clumsy movements.

"And I'm a Starfleet captain..." she muttered as she made her way to the bedroom, feeling infinitely lighter than she had in months. At the dresser, she bent down carefully and opened Chakotay's drawer for the first time since she moved back.

It still lay there, she could see. Only this time, there was nothing else in the drawer and the oblong box was covered with a note - rice paper - and a white satin ribbon tied to it. Her curiosity got the better of her. It wouldn't hurt to look, would it? It was for her, wasn't it? Didn’t matter how long it lay in his drawer, did it? She smiled as she lifted the box out and carefully removed the ribbon and note and open the letter. She laughed out loud after reading the first line.

Kathryn's mouth lifted in a gentle curve as she put the box back in exactly the same position she found it. It was as if Chakotay had eyes everywhere. Was he watching her?

"I'm always thinking about you, Kathryn..." she remembered him saying once. It was strange. She could feel his presence, feel the calm settling in her again, finally.

When she retired to their room for bed, it was on his side of the bed she crawled into, his pillow she rested her head on. She pulled the cover over her, feeling snug and contented, with Hannah only occasionally moving.

"So you're tired too, huh."

The baby gave a hard kick as if she replied to her mother's voice. Kathryn turned her face into the pillow - Chakotay's pillow, inhaling the faint smell of him still on it and closed her eyes. Her hand stroked her belly and when the baby kicked again, Kathryn said dreamily:

"Once, there was a legend of an Angry Warrior who fell in love with a princess..."

*

Kathryn woke with a start when the front door chimed. Her timer showed only 0100 and she groaned. As she lifted herself to a sitting position, the chime went off again. She wondered fleetingly how long the chime rang. Only Chakotay had the code to this apartment and he wouldn't knock... She pulled a robe over her and stuck her feet into the slippers by the bedside. Running her fingers through her hair, she walked as quickly as she could to the door.

The door opened. Kathryn frowned when she saw her mother and Sergei Karkoff standing in front of her. She was instantly on the alert. He would never visit this time of the night, and what was wrong with a vid-com and why was her mother with? Did something happen? Why did her mother look so serious?

"Mom?"

"Hello, Kathryn."

"Sergei, Mom, come inside."

Kathryn flinched as her mother touched her shoulder and pressed her gently towards the first seat in the lounge: Chakotay's chair.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" she asked, looking already distraught at her mother and Sergei in turn.

"Kathryn," Sergei started without preamble, "there has been an attack by the Cardassians on Dorvan V."

Kathryn froze at the look on his face. She looked at her mother. She could only think of Chakotay. It must have shown on her face. She didn't care what showed on her face. Chakotay... Oh, dear heaven... She tried to get out of the chair and her mother pressed her back again.

"C-Chakotay?" Kathryn stammered.

"He lost his entire family, Kathryn. Everyone on Dorvan V died..."

"Even the children?" she asked. Sergei nodded mutely. He looked tired, unhappy. Her mother... Chakotay lost everyone close to him...everyone... She tried to get up again, and this time her mother helped her. She looked at them, beseechingly.

"I must go to him... He needs me... Chakotay - he needs me..."

Sergei looked away, then looked at her mother. Both were quiet. Then Gretchen took Kathryn's hand and squeezed it gently.

"We don't know where he is, Kathryn."

"Mom? Chakotay is gone? Where? Where is he? Oh...!" she cried out as she bent over with pain

***

The warm rain sifted through the broad fronds and leaves of the trees surrounding the clearing. Men and women stood, silent and pensive, while Chakotay's clothes were removed and a robe pulled over him. His eyes were closed, his face wet as he raised it to the man standing in front of him.

A sudden flash, and he saw his father standing like he was standing now in front of the elders of the tribe. The young boy stood watching the ritual with a cold, impassive, belligerent air.

He heard Kolopak's words.

He heard his own words.

When the elder spoke, Chakotay could say only cha-moo-zeeh. He could only, like his father twenty years ago, trace the sign in the damp soil.

They understood.

"You are the son of Ko-lo-pak."

"Kolopak is no more..." said another elder. Chakotay had shown no surprise. He had not told them of his people, of their deaths. They knew, for the sky spirits told them.

"I come to honour my father," Chakotay replied.

The elder smiled. He bore the tattoo of his people, like Kolopak who had stood on the same spot so long ago to take the mark in honour of his father and their ancestors.

Chakotay remembered the young boy watching the ecstasy on Kolopak's face as they painted the tattoo against his forehead above his left eye.

He had not understood then. He had been an angry young boy who was curious about the universe. Kolopak had been disappointed, hurt that his first born son did not embrace his traditions. But in those moments, as he remembered them now, the young Chakotay did experience something strange when he looked at his father, so at home amongst the Rubber Tree People. It had lain hidden inside him for twenty years. For so long he denied what he felt then, suppressed it to allow his love of the unknown, his desire to be a Starfleet warrior overtake him so that until now he had forgotten how he felt then in those moments.

The elder's hand scorched the paint into his skin and the burning sensation burned away the fleece over the memory the boy had hidden for so long as he watched Kolopak and the pure joy on his father's face.

The pride of his race burned into him; he was suddenly, magnificently free as he gave in to that hidden sensation of twenty years ago, and acknowledged what he had denied for so long:

Yes, Chakotay thought as the elder's hand moved unwavering over his forehead. Yes, he felt the pride, the honour of belonging, as he was feeling it in these moments. Why did he deny it so long?

He closed his eyes and thought of Dorvan V as she looked before her destruction. Beautiful, warm, welcoming - so much like Earth... He saw his father's smiling face, the long furrows deep as his face creased; he saw his mother standing next to his father, her arm linked through his. One by one they joined - his bothers, their wives, Roshana, her husband, Tomaso... They smiled at him and nodded their heads in approval. Missing from the group was little Winonah...he couldn't find her face...

For the first time since he arrived he gave a sob, but he welcomed the tears that mingled with the warm drops of rain and burned down his cheeks.

"It is finished, Cha-ko-tay..."

He opened his eyes, for the first time seeing the people around him. He had been transported to the same place, in a different time, seen himself as the young boy who sneered at the ways of these people. He remembered the lines from a rubaiyat:

He couldn't wipe out a single event of his past; couldn't eradicate a single deed, or emotion or expression of impatience... What he had been then as a young boy...that remained. What he had done as a man, that remained. It walked with him all his life, for all time would it be a part of him. All his tears could not wash away a single facet of his impetuous youth, or erroneous deeds as a man.

Now he felt different, renewed. He raised his hand to touch the mark, and his eyes burned again.

"I thank you," he said with quiet pride.

"We honour those who remember our ways," said the elder.

"I will keep them alive...here," replied Chakotay and he pressed his fist against his heart.

Chakotay then looked up, and overhead two falcons flew, their wings spread splendidly as they hovered against the sky, then circled above them. Finally, they sped away and Chakotay turned to face the people around him.

"I will always remember."

He placed his palm against his chest in a salute, then turned slowly, greeting everyone who came to witness the giving of the Mark. They moved aside for him to pass them, each one touching him as he walked, until they could see him no more.

Then the tribe left also. As silently as they arrived in the clearing, they disappeared.

****

Chakotay was pensive on his way back to Headquarters. Coming to the rain forest to find the Rubber Tree People had been his first priority. Now that Kolopak was dead, he felt more connected to his father than ever before. Already he had seen Kolopak twice in a vision quest, and now, just as the Elder of the Tribe had painted his tattoo on, Chakotay had seen Kolopak again. There had been so many images, so many impressions of meeting his father, but the most precious had been seeing himself as the young, rebellious boy who couldn't understand his father's ways.

It was not so much that he couldn't. It had always been there, he realised with painful insight. He just never wanted to acknowledge it, never admit to himself that he could no more deny his heritage than ask the sun not to shine, even if the sun was hidden sometimes behind storm clouds.

Now, more than ever, he felt the nearness of the land, the oneness of soil, sky, water, everything that the land yielded. He had been a brash young boy so intent on going his own way, so intent on shrugging off the nobility of his people that he had failed for more years than he could remember, the signs that were always there.

He remembered Kolopak's words:

"You will always be one of us, Chakotay..."

How many times had he denied that? How many years did he rob his family of his presence because he believed he was right and they were wrong? The moment the first lines of the tattoo started burning into his skin, he knew that he had never left. He had always been there, wandered off the main track mostly, but always there.

He never left...

The choice to come to the Rubber Tree People had not been a choice, he thought, as he reached Headquarters. It was destiny, a deeply seated truth that his feet just carried him there as a natural, instinctive urge to find completion. He had wandered off to Mexico and other places where no one could find him so many times in his life, always seeking that elusive element that he needed to find completion. He hadn't known before what he was searching for, or realised just how restless he had been. Now he knew what it was that had driven him, even as a young fifteen year old boy who challenged his father. Kolopak had always known. Always. Why didn't the son see it then? Why could he see everything so clearly now?

Now he could get on with his life. There was more purpose to him now than there had been before, even with Kathryn, and with her he found the greatest measure of peace.

He had no family left. Everything on Dorvan V that was a part of him, was gone. In three days he lost every member of his family. No one lived anywhere else in the universe. They were all there. His parents, brothers and sister and their families, his cousins, aunts and uncles.

All were gone. There had been a deep chasm in him since he performed the burial rites for his family. He was cut off from everyone who meant something to him, who was tied to him through familial bonds. For hours afterwards he was like a demented man, suffering acute withdrawal, remembering Kolopak's last words as he lay dying in Chakotay's arms. He had only just made contact with his parents for first time in fifteen years; he loved his father all over again and tasted the blessed, cleansing taste of forgiveness from a man who said: "What is there to forgive, my son? You are here, now, and I love as I loved you even when you were contrary." He had been close again to his brothers, his sister, their children.

Once, Kathryn told him: "Why love, when losing hurts so much?" She had spoken then of how she had been afraid to love again. She taught him the most valuable gift of leaping in faith and loving his family, loving her...

Now, they were gone, and only memories remained.

He tried to close his mind to the sight of their bodies, the smell of death that still hung over Dorvan V by the time they left. He tried to wipe from his mind the way his mother's body looked, the way so many women looked who were violated by the Cardassians. He tried to wipe the sight of babies stiffened in their mothers' arms, the sight of Tomaso... Chakotay cringed again, cried out as the pain hit him in the chest.

He had been angry. He was still angry. The face of his father was the only thing that tempered his anger. Even to the last, Kolopak had been a dignified man, meeting the sky spirits with open arms, because "that is where my Hannah is waiting for me...and we shall be without pain..."

Chakotay knew what he had to do now. His road had not been very clear in the last months since he and Kathryn separated. Now, there was direction, his course of action something he would take and live with its consequences. Kathryn would understand. He knew that. But first, he had to address the Admirals before doing anything else. He knew that they were already aware of what happened on Dorvan V, although it was not officially in their hands or their business, and to save face, not something Hays and Nechayev would broadcast. Still, Paris and Ponsonby needed to know first hand from him.

He was still deep in thought as he alighted from the run down borrowed flitter at Headquarters and braved the icy cold to walk the distance to the main building. He had donned his uniform again after leaving the Rubber Tree People. It felt so strange on him now after wearing just a simple shift of a robe when he had taken the Mark during the ritual. Chakotay shivered a little as he entered the building and made his way to Admiral Paris's office, where both Admirals Paris and Ponsonby were waiting for him. It was an appointment he had made while on their way back to Earth from the Cardassian border.

He gave a tired shrug. It was his birthday, and he hadn't given it much thought. Today, a year ago he and Kathryn were joined in marriage by the very admiral he was going to see. Now, a year later, that marriage had crumbled under the strain of a crisis, and Kathryn was pregnant. He wondered fleetingly what Sergei was doing. It was Anatoly's birthday as well and they usually waited for him to come to their home to present Anatoly his gift.

He sighed. This year... so many things happened. So many things. He missed his mother and father, missed his father's gentle smile and his mother's undaunted look whenever she challenged Kolopak. He missed them. They were gone from his life forever, and Winonah missing. A victim of war, only a child of five years. What could he tell Kathryn?

At the door of Admiral Paris he paused for a few seconds, taking in a deep breath. He had not worn his commbadge, a minor infraction which he was glad to field if questioned about it. His fingers pressed the panel and a second later the door opened.

He stood on attention just inside the door, hearing it swoosh close behind him.

"Admiral Paris...Admiral Ponsonby..." he started, and when they nodded, he took a few steps forward and sat down in the chair opposite them. They stared for ten full seconds at him, before Admiral Paris found his voice. He knew his tattoo caught their attention, though they would not remark on it. It was their Starfleet discipline, he knew. For most he supposed, it would be a curiosity.

"It's good to see you, Captain," Admiral Paris said, waiting only a second for Chakotay to respond to his new designation.

"Er...Admiral, that is one of the things I've wanted to see you about," Chakotay replied, turning his gaze to Admiral Ponsonby as well. It seemed to him they had something on their mind, something beyond the news he wanted to give them.

"It has already been duly logged and noted, Captain. You received your promotion a month ago, and while you did not confirm with me, I took it on good faith that you would accept it."

Chakotay looked at Admiral Paris and shook his head slightly. What were they up to? he thought. He gave a little sigh, then nodded, a little reluctantly. He was not going to give them any good news.

"Captain, we have received word that Dorvan V on the Cardassian border has been destroyed..."

"That has been given you in the debriefing by Captain Petranoff," Chakotay responded curtly, feeling again the spread of pain through his body. Admiral Paris leaned forward, linked his fingers on the desk and added.

"Captain, we know that you lost your whole family. I want to offer you on my own family's behalf our very deepest condolences on your loss."

Chakotay looked down, studying his hands that lay lifeless on his lap. He nodded his acknowledgement of Admiral Paris's words. At length he looked up again, unable to keep the emotion from his eyes, the way his voice trembled a little as he spoke.

"Admiral," Chakotay said, his voice low with remembered pain, "Starfleet knew two weeks before the massacre that it would happen. It is something unforgivable that in the light of representations made by my late father and myself, no help was forthcoming - "

"They told you it was out of their hands," Admiral Ponsonby said with a trace of sarcasm in his voice. He looked clearly annoyed at the stance Headquarters took in the Dorvan V catastrophe. "It was nothing for them to help, you know."

"We got thrown the Treaty Rule Book, Admiral. The one that said they would violate the Treaty if they did."

"We knew who said that. It's something they went bragging about in the Admiral's circles: how successful the signing of the Treaty was."

"My people are dead," Chakotay said quietly, "and we can't bring them back."

"I am indeed sorry, Captain, that it happened."

Chakotay looked at Admiral Paris. He admired the older man, had a great respect for him. He knew of the Admiral's tough stance and stern manners and extreme application of discipline, but he was a fair officer and good man. Chakotay wished he could know him better, but now...

"Thank you, Admirals, for your concern and condolences. You are the first to express it..."

Admiral Paris looked down on the PADD that lay in front of him, then he gave Ponsonby a furtive look. Chakotay wondered what was up.

"We wanted to give you command of a new vessel, the Crimond - "

"Kathryn's vessel?" Chakotay asked, the words gushing from his mouth.

"Yes."

Chakotay looked at the two men for a long time, then rose from the chair, scraping it as he moved to stand behind it. He cleared his throat.

"That is what I've come to see you about, Admiral Paris. I want to tender my resignation from Starfleet. I feel in the circumstances that my people have been let down by the Federation; that the Federation, while it could have done something, stood back and let the Cardassians massacre an entire population of colonists who had once lived on Earth. In view if these facts, I feel I cannot ally myself with an organisation that had not done enough, and which has turned its back on innocent people. Admiral Paris, Ponsonby, the crew of the Ormskirk buried children on Dorvan V..."

Chakotay's voice faltered when he envisioned again the streets lined with children and babies in the arms of their mothers. He shook his head, blinked furiously to prevent himself from shedding any more tears. He drew in a deep, gasping breath and looked the two men again in the eyes. Hands stiffly by his sides he stood. "I am leaving today and will not come to Earth again. My mind has been made up, Admiral Paris. I have to go out there and help protect other homeworlds who face the same kind of threat and genocide, atrocities committed by the Cardassian Union and to which the Federation has turned a blind eye."

He was gasping by the time he finished, and also glad when it was over. He was leaving, and the weight of his decision that had given him sleepless nights the last week on the Ormskirk, suddenly lifted when he felt that he had done the right thing.

It was the right thing.

"Admiral?" he asked when both men exchanged looks, then faced him again.

"Captain, please," Admiral Ponsonby said firmly, "please, sit down."

When he was seated again, he primed himself for their refusal of his resignation.

"Captain Chakotay, we have a proposition to make you..."

He let them speak, occasionally nodding his assent or voicing apprehension or disagreement. Their voices rang on, and he listened intently. Sometimes, he gave some input, and they nodded in agreement, and sometimes they challenged him. Mostly he listened, notated mentally, indexed the information and analysed, challenging again and again. An hour later, Chakotay was still dazed, although he was filled with fierce pride and purpose. Kathryn would understand. He knew she would look upon his decision with equal pride too. Just as soon as he told her of what happened to his father and mother, she would understand this new drive in him. With a mute nodding to the admirals which made them smile and rise to their feet, he rose. He shook Admiral Ponsonby's hand.

"Gentlemen, I thank - "

At that moment Admiral Paris's vid-com beeped.

"Excuse me," he said quickly and switched on his console. Admiral Paris's eyebrow lifted, his mouth curving into a smile.

"Elizabeth! What's happening at the hospital?"

"Owen, dear, is Commander Chakotay with you perhaps? We've been trying since this morning to get hold of him. He seems to have vanished into thin air. Did you know he's without a commbadge? Owen, dear, if - "

Admiral Paris looked at Chakotay, who had stiffened noticeably when he heard his name.

"As a matter of fact, Elizabeth, he is right here. Do you wish to speak with him?"

When Paris looked at Chakotay and indicated he come round to speak to Dr Paris, Chakotay's heart was beating in his throat. The blood drained from his face.

"Dr Paris, what is the matter? Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing that your presence can't cure, Chakotay. Kathryn has gone into labour and she's asking for you."

****