Chapter Text
Federation Penal Settlement
New Zealand
Earth
The prison colony is beautiful.
Housing facilities are clean and spacious, the food is perfectly fine, and mountains loom in the distance. He’s had worse vacations, to be honest. He knows he was lucky to end up here in such a comfortable setting, but then again, saving the life of a Starfleet captain at the cost of his own freedom certainly helped him. Her testimony at his hearing didn’t hurt, either.
As a skilled prisoner with a record of good behavior, Chakotay has been approved to spend his days working with machines, dealing with circuitry panels and spare parts. The workshops sit near the living quarters, and offer a beautiful view of the ocean. He’s even been paired with a roommate named Dave, a mild-mannered former-professor-turned-Maquis-informant (and then later, saboteur) who’s easy to talk to. There’s a gym, there’s a library. His days are busy and productive.
No matter what else has happened, though, the best part of any day is the blinking light on his PADD that signals an incoming message from Janeway, Capt. K.
He usually gets a message from her on Monday afternoon, with an occasional missed week; Chakotay gets the distinct feeling that he’s an item on her regular list of tasks, and that feels appropriate for her. If Chakotay is tucked between personnel reviews and regular staff meeting, well, he feels honored. He likes reading her messages in the evening, while he’s winding down for the night.
As peaceful as the prison colony is, Chakotay finds himself uneasy. There are still civilians out in the Badlands, still Maquis ships hiding out. Ever since Starfleet ventured into the Gamma Quadrant, he’d heard murmurs about possible invasion. There have been reports of Changelings infiltrating Alpha Quadrant organizations to sow chaos and destruction, although how much is true and how much is paranoia, he doesn’t know. The Cardassian government is unstable, which puts Bajor and the Badlands at even greater risk. The Klingon Empire is on high alert, and it almost seems like they’re at war with everyone, depending on the day.
Chakotay’s not in Starfleet anymore, but he still knows a few things about military strategy. From a tactical standpoint, if he were preparing to invade an entire quadrant, what better prelude than destabilizing as much of its infrastructure as possible? Put in a few careful cracks, weaken the existing bonds, and everything crumbles more easily.
He’s not sure what it all means, but he knows something has to break, sooner or later.
After a long day of hauling and woodworking, Chakotay drops onto his bunk. There’s about an hour to relax before dinner. The light on his PADD is blinking, but today, to his surprise, it’s not a text message. It’s audio.
Hello, Chakotay.
The sound of her voice brings an immediate smile to his face. It’s been so long, but he’d know that low, throaty voice anywhere.
I hope you don’t mind an audio message, but the truth is, I’m so tired, I’d probably misspell every other word.
Chakotay chuckles to himself. He somehow doubts this woman has ever misspelled a word in her life.
I’ll probably regret sending you this, but right now, I don’t care.
She sighs.
We’ve done our best to get the Maquis we find out of harm’s way, but I’m worried, Chakotay. I’m worried. There are bad things coming. I can’t help thinking it’s going to get worse before it gets better.
He folds his hands, resting his chin on them as he listens. Her letters have gotten successively more and more unsettled. Her ship is patrolling the Badlands right now, so if the tension boils over, she’s going to be right in the midst of it.
I’m sorry. I should probably just delete this and try again. You don’t need to hear about my problems.
She does this often, apologize for confiding in him. He always responds that he doesn’t mind.
Tell me how you are. How is the weather? I’ve heard New Zealand is so lovely, and I hope you’re doing well there. Is the work manageable? Are you comfortable?
He’ll have to tell her about the woodworking; he’s been approved to work in the shop, and he’s been enjoying it immensely. Fresh air, tools, and the kind of craftwork he hasn’t gotten to do in years.
There’s this very young ensign on my crew. Fresh out of the Academy, Chakotay, and you wouldn’t believe how young he looks. I’m fairly sure he’s terrified of me. Harry’s a fine young man; I think he’s got great potential. But so far he can barely look me in the eye, even though he’s considerably taller than I am. Am I really so intimidating?
Yes, he thinks with a smile.
Did I ever tell you I have a sister? Her name is Phoebe. She’s so unlike me, you couldn’t imagine. Well, she and her husband are expecting. I’m so happy for them. She sent me a message, asked if I’ll be back home to see them once the baby’s born. I hope so. Right now, there’s no way to tell.
There’s a long pause, and Chakotay’s just starting to wonder if her message was cut off when she speaks again, her voice even softer.
She’ll be such a wonderful mother. She’s so bright, so funny and clever, and Jason is a wonderful man. They have so much to offer this child. And I haven’t talked to Mom yet, but she must be thrilled to become a grandmother.
There’s such wistfulness in her voice, an unmistakable longing that hits him in the chest even across lightyears. He wishes this were a real conversation. He wishes he could see her face.
She ends her message after a little more quiet talk, wishing him well and asking him to let her know if there’s anything she can do for him. He listens to the entire thing again after dinner, then books time in one of the terminal rooms to record a response.
There’s something so intimate about voice messages. The moment he hears her voice, her face springs to mind. He sees her the way she looked at his sentencing hearing, the last time he saw her: keen blue eyes, hair swept up neatly, her dress uniform pristine, and that soft, subtle smile, the way she looked at him as she walked out.
He wonders if she’ll hear his voice, shut her eyes, and see him.
“Hello, Kathryn.” He leans closer to the receiver. “I was glad to get your last message…”
It's strange to miss someone he spent four days with, once, on a faraway planet.
But he misses her. He misses her in a fierce way, the longing settled deep inside him, like she’s a part of his body and his breath and as long as she’s out there and he’s here, he’s not quite whole.
After years of death and destruction, feeding the anger deep inside himself at the injustices he saw all around him on planets that were abandoned by the Federation, it was a relief to find himself trying to save a life. He doesn’t think of karma as some kind of quantifiable scale in the sky, but if he could save one person, he thought, maybe it could shine a ray of light somewhere in the darkness he’s spent so long carrying around.
One sunny afternoon, he walks out of the gym to find the yard abuzz, the basketball court abandoned. A crowd has gathered around the screenon the wall. He can’t see what’s playing, but the mood is somber.
A maintenance worker walks past, and Chakotay asks, “What’s going on?”
“Terrorist attack.” The worker gestures at the screen. “There was a conference up in Belgium with the Romulans. A bomb went off.”
“A bomb?” There hasn’t been a bombing on Earth in over a century.
The worker nods. “Twenty-seven confirmed dead.”
The Federation president declares a planet-wide day of mourning.
Chakotay can’t shake the chill as he reads the accounts of the attack in Antwerp. One terrorist attack with twenty-seven dead is a tragedy, to be sure, but to someone from the Badlands, it’s not unprecedented. But a terrorist attack on Earth?—at a major diplomatic gathering, with all the Federation’s security protocols?
After everything else that’s been happening?
He keeps hearing Kathryn’s pensive voice in his mind: I can’t help thinking it’s going to get worse before it gets better.