UNTIL THE END OF TIME

Day 133

Sleep was the only escape from the unrelenting, soul-crushing grip of loneliness. Each day his subconscious fought to keep him submerged a little longer in the soothing balm of memories revisited.

Kathryn's smirk as she shocked everyone with her prowess at pool.

B'Elanna's surprise and embarrassment as she reluctantly admitted that she liked Captain Janeway.

On New Earth, laughing at Kathryn's indignant expression when he called her "Freckle Face".

Their first night together in his quarters on her birthday, surrounded by wreckage. Her studious expression as she carefully bathed him, politely asking him to move this way, to lift an arm or shift a leg. Then her hands, slightly rough from too much hard work, mapping and learning every inch of his body with serious intent.

But sometimes the dreams betrayed him, turned on him like a rabid animal.

His father, slowly shaking his head in disappointment. His mother, silent tears streaking her face.

Kathryn, standing with arms akimbo, frowning at him. "You said you'd always be by my side. Why did you leave?"

B'Elanna, snarling with disdain. "You left us, old man. How could you do that?"

More and more of the crew gathering around them, their expressions upset, angry. Heated voices rising. "You abandoned us. You left us. How could you? How could you? How could you?"

Chakotay awoke with a gasp, and loneliness instantly leaped upon him with open jaws. He flung himself from the plain cot in the corner of the cell, and although it was still dark with the Krenim ship's night, he began his daily exercise routine. Squats, abdominals, pushups, boxing - beating invisible opponents into submission. Then he worked through every self defense program he'd ever learned - Starfleet, Maquis, Klingon, and more - using physical pain as his drug of choice to dull the inner pain. When he couldn't lift his arms any more and the sweat ran down his face, he staggered to a corner of the cell and slid down the wall. The cool wall felt good against his temple.

For sixty-five days, Chakotay had been totally alone. He knew Tom Paris had also been caught in the transport beam from Voyager, yet from the moment he had materialized inside this cell, he had seen no one, heard no sound other than what he made, and the twice daily beam in of food and water.

The fact that he was still alive told him that somehow, Voyager had escaped the Krenim, and that the aliens hadn't been able to find the plucky little ship. That was another reason he maintained his fitness level; he knew eventually they would come for him, wanting information. And he didn't know just what form of interrogation the Krenim might employ to extract that information.

As soon as he'd materialized in the cell, he searched it carefully. One bare cot, one toilet, one door upon which he'd pounded his fists and shouted himself hoarse for a couple of days, demanding to see his crewmate, to speak to someone in charge. It was almost worse to be so totally ignored than if someone had come and forced him to be quiet. It said that they considered him inconsequential. There were several air vents into the cell, but none big enough to crawl through, even if he'd been able to reach them in the high ceiling.

The only other thing in the cell was the surveillance viewer in one top corner, the red light that blinked on periodically, a lens that swept the cell, then fixated on him. It was randomly enacted, no set pattern, so he was sure that it was personally monitored.

Any moment now, the abrupt jolt of the overhead lights being activated would begin his sixty-sixth day here, so he let his mind wonder. Occasionally during the last two months he'd tried to meditate, and sometimes he was successful, but mostly he just saw Kathryn's face.

Their last morning together began in her shattered quarters, quietly sharing ration packs, and reviewing the day's schedule of repairs. At her door, she suddenly turned back, pressing him against the wall to hold him tightly. She kissed him long and desperately, as though it were farewell. Her small hands moved to his shoulders, clutching him so tightly, he knew he'd be marked later. It didn't matter, because his soul had been marked by her long ago.

Somehow he'd known he was going to lose her that day. And in a way, he had.

If anyone had told him three and a half years ago that he would be so desperately, achingly homesick for Voyager, he would have laughed them out of the quadrant. Yes, deep in his soul he longed for Kathryn, to be near her again, but he also missed Voyager profoundly.

As dire as their circumstances had been just before he was abducted, that ship was the closest thing to a real, steady home that he'd known in a decade. All the people, blended from diverse planets, cultures, and life experiences, had become his family. He appreciated each one of them, as well as the community that they wove together like a precious tapestry. He missed them. Kathryn had said she would never break up the family, and he could well understand her position. For the thousandth time, he wondered how they fared, and whether they were still together.

Suddenly, a bright light blinded him and he raised his hand to shield his eyes. But today was different; the light didn't emanate from overhead, but from the doorway, which he'd never seen open before. The silhouette of a large male rapidly approached him and dragged him roughly to his feet.

'So, now it begins,' he thought.

He was taken to what looked like a laboratory, and questioned, scanned, tested, and tested again. The questions he answered as truthfully as he could without revealing any possibly compromising information. Although none of the treatment he received approached torture, he was often uncomfortable, and even his longstanding patience was tried. Once, when the door opened to admit another person, he was sure he heard Tom Paris shouting.

At long last he was allowed to clean up and given new clothing. Their level of technology was incredible, beyond anything on Voyager. He had no idea how their "shower" worked, and as for clothing, he was instructed to stand still, and the clothes literally wove themselves around him.

No one gave any response to the queries he made. Neither was there opportunity to scout around at all, as he and his guard were transported within the huge ship to stand outside an unmarked door. If he could not do recon work, it would make it next to impossible to fulfill the first duty of a prisoner - escape. He might have to settle for the second rule - learn as much as possible with the aim of disrupting the enemy's plans. The door slid silently open, and the guard jerked his head, indicating that Chakotay should enter.

After the long isolation, the scene before him was an assault on his senses. Even as Chakotay recoiled inwardly, he had to admire the tactic. Two months of solitary, followed by impersonal treatment like a lab specimen, then suddenly plunged into the lap of luxury. Beautiful music played in the background. The décor was sumptuous and richly colorful. The aroma wafting from the feast that covered every inch of the table before him made his mouth water. He and Tom were going to have to watch themselves, because the Krenim who carefully observed him from the end of the table was obviously a very brilliant adversary. And that made him all the more dangerous.

The supercilious and condescending response of the Krenim leader to Chakotay's demand regarding his crewmate had him gritting his teeth to stop from snapping back. Behave with dignity and restraint? As though it were such an honor and a privilege to be the Krenim's prisoner! Chakotay immediately assessed this man as a somewhat more refined, more intelligent Cardassian. Ultimately, just another bully determined to get his own way, whatever the cost to anyone else.

When Paris arrived, Chakotay tried to signal him with his eyes to appear cooperative in order to glean as much information as possible. But the younger man exuded total disgust and suspicion of everything the Krenim leader said, and shortly into the meal, rose in a huff intending to exit. Just where he thought he was going to go, Chakotay had no idea.

The Krenim leader, Annorax, dangled the carrot before them of seeing Voyager restored to full capacity and on her way again to the Alpha Quadrant. To play along, Chakotay ordered Tom to sit, but to no avail. Fortunately, Annorax seemed to take little offense, and a younger Krenim by the name of Obrist arrived to escort Tom to his quarters. Chakotay sighed inwardly. Paris was going to have to learn keep a lid on his emotions as it would be impossible to help Voyager from the inside of an isolation cell. This was going to be a battle of tactics as much as anything else.

The quarters that Chakotay was later shown to were luxurious compared to what he'd had on Voyager, although surveillance equipment still graced the corner of the main room. It wasn't long before Paris came bursting through the door.

"Chakotay, what the hell was that all about? How could you even talk with that idiot? We can't trust him!"

Chakotay looked up calmly from his table. The red light now glowed malevolently and he knew this conversation was critical. "Didn't your parents teach you to knock before you enter a room, Paris? For your information, Annorax isn't an idiot; he's a brilliant, enlightened man. You could learn a lot if you'd take the time to listen."

Paris shook his head. "I guess I don't have the instinct for time, or whatever it is Captain Nemo calls it. He's just flattering you, and it's gone to your head."

As Chakotay rose from the table to face Paris, he could see that the surveillance viewer was focused directly on them. He was going to have to play this as carefully as any scene crafted by an actor. "You're out of line, Lieutenant," he snapped.

Paris sneered. "What are you going to do? Take away my holodeck privileges?"

Chakotay turned his back to the viewer. "Either we maintain our command structure, or we settle our differences the old fashioned way." With that, he reached out and grabbed Paris by the shirt and hauled him roughly forward. Then he flicked his gaze backward and hissed in the younger man's ear, "Keep your friends close…" He pushed Tom back forcefully so he stumbled slightly.

Tom would know the rest of that phrase. "…and keep your enemies closer."

Paris ran his hand through his hair, and surreptitiously glanced in the direction Chakotay had indicated. He swallowed, and after a moment's pause said slowly, "All right. We'll try it your way. For now."

"Good choice," Chakotay responded. "Want something from the replicator? The guard showed me how it works, and you didn't eat much earlier."

"Sure. Whatever." Tom rubbed his temple, using the opportunity to look again toward the corner. "Sorry about before; I've got a headache. Just stressed, I guess."

"No problem."

The two men sat silently at Chakotay's table until they saw the viewer light wink out.

Paris sighed. "Shit. My old man always told me my mouth would get me in trouble. Have I totally screwed things up?"

"No, I don't think so," Chakotay reassured him. "In fact, since you weren't cooperative during the isolation period, it would be out of character, and therefore create suspicion if you suddenly became agreeable. Plus, if they think the two of us are divided, they'll perceive us as being weaker than we are."

"So, what's the plan then?"

"The guy that Annorax called in, Obrist, is his right-hand-man. You should try to befriend him and learn all you can, since he's more your age."

Paris grinned. "You mean other than the two hundred year difference. So you'll try to cozy up to the megalomaniac? I don't envy you. Frankly, I think you've got the tougher job. You have to be all nice and understanding while I get to do what I do best - play the rebel. I meant what I said before, Chakotay; we can't trust that guy."

"Of course we can't," Chakotay retorted. "This whole thing has been like a chess game to him. Plus, he lied to us right off the bat. When he said that he'd decided to spare Voyager as an act of compassion because he identifies with our quest to get home, he dropped his eyes. That's universal body language indicative of lying."

Paris's expression was one of surprised admiration. "I didn't see that, but I sure heard it when his real intention was exposed - his threat to destroy Voyager if we didn't cooperate with him."

"And he will, Tom." Chakotay steepled his fingers together and regarded the younger man seriously. "Be very careful; you were correct when you assumed he can't find Voyager, and that is the only reason we're still alive. We can't help Voyager if we wind up back in isolation, or dead. Keep in mind, that no matter how noble or conflicted Annorax seems, he will eliminate Voyager just to accomplish his goal of restoring the Krenim empire to its fullness."

"If he created all this," Tom waved his hand around him, "the guy's pretty smart, plus a tremendous motivator if he could inspire the number of people it must take to run this ship. Kind of reminds me of some of the political leaders from the twentieth century. Powerful men, very inspirational - some for good and some for evil. Millions of people followed them."

"Like Hitler and Churchill."

Again, Tom was surprised. "I didn't know you knew twentieth century Earth history."

Chakotay shrugged. "When I was a teenager, Starfleet was all I could think about, and with its headquarters on Earth, I studied everything I could about it."

With a yawn and a big stretch, Tom stood. "Well, I think I'll turn in. I'll start tomorrow on Obrist."

"Remember," Chakotay cautioned him, "be careful, or we could lose everything."

Tom nodded as he headed for the door. "Don't worry. I can be subtle when I need to be. You'd better get some rest too because you're going to need all your wits about you to deal with our friendly dictator."

Day 207

Totally drained, Chakotay sat in his quarters, motionless as he had been for the last two hours. He had just witnessed the genocide of an entire species.

He didn't know them, didn't know a thing about them, yet he grieved for their loss. Mothers, fathers, children, grandparents - past and future, history and destiny - all gone in the pronouncement of a single cold-blooded word. "Fire," and an entire civilization of hundreds of thousands of people, was erased from existence. The idea that this vessel had been carrying out such actions for over two hundred years made Chakotay want to vomit.

Two and a half hours ago, after checking that the surveillance viewer was off, an excited Tom had informed him of the information he'd garnered through befriending Obrist. A tired, unhappy crew, wanting their own lives back, and incredibly weak shields once the temporal core was off-line.

Chakotay himself had actually seen the temporal core, and gained an understanding of how it worked. But as Annorax had beamed them both there, he was no closer to discovering the exact location of it within the ship, so Paris' information was important. "Good work, Tom," he'd said.

The words had barely left his lips when with a shiver of horror, he'd realized the damned viewer was on again. How long had it been activated? How much had they overheard? He scrambled madly, ordering Tom to lay low, not to attempt anything against Annorax, blithering about how he was getting a handle on these temporal calculations and he could still get them out of it.

Tom picked up on what he was doing, and provided quick improvisational feedback. Chakotay thought it was enough to cover their tracks, but all conversation came to a halt when the alarms indicating the impending temporal incursion sounded.

He had begged, even pleaded with Annorax not do it, that they could find another way. The Krenim leader had eyed him as if he were a stupid child, too immature to understand higher reasoning, and then implacably proceeded. In a matter of mere moments, a thriving world was replaced by a starkly blank planet.

When it was over, Tom had whispered, "If you don't do something about this maniac, I will."

Despite being on the bridge surrounded by Krenim, Chakotay had replied, "You'll have to stand in line."

Even worse, he'd discovered the real reason Annorax persisted. It wasn't merely rebuilding the Krenim empire as Chakotay had assumed. In his studies of their temporal incursions, he'd realized that the one thing always missing was Kyana Prime. Annorax's real motivation was not political, but personal, and all the more powerful for it; he wanted to return to his wife, his own future.

Same as Chakotay wanted to return to Kathryn.

It appalled him, even shocked him, to realize that he actually had something in common with a man he considered evil and insane. Could he become that obsessive, that selfish and destructive just to be with the woman he loved, the one he was convinced was his destiny?

For Chakotay knew Kathryn was the other half of his soul. He also knew on a level that went eons beyond head knowledge, that he would never see her again in this time line. And that meant this time line had to end.

About a month ago, he'd had a terrible nightmare in which he and Kathryn were separated by a wall of fire, and she was walking steadily away from him. He tried everything he could to get around the flames, but the blistering heat drove him back. When he called to her and begged her not to leave, she finally turned and presented her horribly burned face to him. He'd awakened shaking and soaked with sweat, his determination renewed to somehow be reunited with her and their family on Voyager.

Could he become Annorax to see that happen?

Now, the doors slid open to admit Paris, who looked just as shell-shocked as Chakotay felt. Only a few short hours ago, the young man had bounded in, yet now he dropped into the chair like someone twice his age. It startled Chakotay to realize that all the while they'd been on this ship, time had stood still for them, and physically they weren't a minute older than the moment they arrived.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, then just cleared his throat. He passed a tired hand over his face, checked the inactive viewer, and tried again. "It totally boggles my mind. How many billions of people no longer exist, or have had their lives completely altered because of one man? Even Q isn't this bad. How does the guy live with himself?"

Chakotay nodded slowly. It felt as though all his life's energy and been suctioned away with the extinction of that race. "You want to know the really ironic thing? I've had so many discussions with Annorax, and he seems incapable of seeing the value of the individual. Yet the real reason he's been doing this for so long is that he lost his own wife and family."

"I'd call it poetic justice, considering so has everyone else on this ship, including us."

"Yes we have," Chakotay agreed. He speculatively eyed the younger man sitting across from him. Paris had always been a very social person, with many friends on Voyager. The relationship between B'Elanna and him had been in its early stages, yet even in that short time, Chakotay had seen a duel softening and strengthening in them both.

A quick glance toward the viewer, then he inquired, "Any further progress with Obrist?"

Tom heaved a great sigh. "I feel for the guy, you know? All their lofty ideals have come crashing down under the heavy weight of reality. I'd say that today was the last straw for Obrist. He says he'll give me access to the communications array, and I think we can trust him."

"And the temporal core?"

With a wry expression, Tom admitted, "That's…going to be a little trickier. With Obrist's help, I'm pretty sure I can disable it, but not without setting off every alarm on this ship. We're only going to have one chance."

Starting to feel reengergized, Chakotay leaned forward. Tactics was something he excelled at. "It will require precise timing. You and me working from within…"

"And Captain Janeway attacking from Voyager," Tom finished. He hesitated, then spoke gently as if he didn't want to actually say the words out loud. "That is, if the captain's still alive." His expression was sympathetic.

So, Paris could indeed be subtle if he wanted to be. Up to this point, he'd given no indication that he was aware of the change of status in the command team's relationship. Chakotay couldn't prevent the slight smile that lit his face. "She's alive," he declared with complete assurance. "Send the message; transmit our coordinates."

Hope surged like a living thing once again for the two officers. "Done," Tom stated, heading immediately for the door.

"And…" Chakotay called after him, waiting until he looked back. He quickly searched for just the right words. "Give Kathryn my best." She would understand all that he was saying in that brief message.

Alone again, Chakotay pondered this revelation with a touch of amusement. If Paris was aware of the transition in his relationship with Kathryn, probably most of the crew was also. But he would bet they would never believe the amount of time he and Kathryn spent simply talking, sharing the details of their lives, even laughing - although some of it was gallows humor, considering the condition of Voyager. It wasn't so much sexual intimacy, but heart intimacy.

Except the fourth night they were together - their final night.

They pulled several hunks of metal from her mattress before tugging it free from her ruined bed frame. On the floor with starlight filling the room, they loved each other over and over with a desperation, both of them unable to stop until she was sore and he was drained. The last time, as he lay in the cradle of her hips, withering inside her, her hands lifted his weary head from her shoulder. He moved his arms so he was able to cup her face with his hands, and she did the same to him. Looking deeply into each other's eyes, they made a connection more intimate than sex, as complete and intense as any Vulcan mind meld. He could feel her pulse through his fingers, and their heartbeats synchronized, even their breaths became one. It was as though everything in the universe merged and stood still for a single moment.

Kathryn Janeway was a woman of contrasts, even dichotomies. Small in stature, seemingly fragile, yet stronger than titanium. A by-the-book leader who often acted on intuition. Sometimes appearing stern, yet she possessed a wicked sense of humor. She was scientific and analytical by nature, but passionate about exploration, new discoveries, and the beauty of life. And, to Chakotay's total amazement and delight, she was wildly passionate about him.

The loss of her was an wound that could never be mended, an ache that could never be healed. "Oh Kathryn," he breathed shakily, and wiped his eyes.

Day 257

Annorax and he worked silently on the endless temporal calculations, sitting at opposite sides of the table in the ready room. Chakotay cast a glance at the Krenim leader.

It grew harder and harder to daily play the game, to pretend to understand and sympathize with Annorax's goals and methods. Chakotay was not a man of pretense or dishonesty, and this actor's role chafed at him like sand in a cut. Every day, always on edge, staying hyper alert for any hint, any clue that could bring them closer to ending this diabolical charade. On the one hand, he wanted Voyager to arrive in order for this to be over, but on the other hand, he dreaded it, knowing how strong the Krenim ship really was.

As well, he constantly had to fight the guilt that nibbled at him. He knew the desperate state Voyager and her crew had been in when he was abducted, and he was certain it hadn't improved in the ensuing months. Yet here he sat, comfortable, clean, well fed, and living on a fully functional ship. It was a type of survivor's guilt - illogical, yet there it was.

He knew what Kathryn's plan would be: find allies, give them temporal shielding, pool their resources, and form a fleet to take down this foe. It was what he would have done himself.

Not for the first time, he wondered if she'd found the watch he'd never recycled as she'd ordered, or if it had been destroyed under more wreckage in his quarters. It struck him as terribly ironic - a small antique chronometer given to encourage a twenty-fourth century woman, and a mammoth time weapon of unparalleled technology determined to destroy her.

A beeping alarm drew Annorax and him to the bridge. When Obrist announced the approach of six vessels, including Voyager, Chakotay's heart leaped within him. This was it, what he'd been waiting for and carefully striving toward; the time was now.

With a slight nod to Obrist, Chakotay began the task of distracting Annorax. The opportunity wouldn't last long, but hopefully, long enough for Tom to stealthily find and transmit the coordinates for the temporal core. Chakotay began to expound on Captain Janeway's probable tactics, that other homeworlds would now be impervious to the time weapon.

Annorax pondered a moment, then ordered Obrist to prepare for multiple incursions to disable all of the ships' temporal shields first. The way he said first, Chakotay knew the Krenim leader fully intended to destroy Voyager, meaning that his and Tom's usefulness had just come to an end.

But Tom had been correct; Obrist had had enough. Alarms sounded as the younger Kremin deactivated the temporal core. Annorax's shock and rage at his first officer's disobedience was instantaneous. The Kremin leader was already out of his chair by the time Obrist tapped his console to initiate the transporter for Chakotay.

As he felt the beam grab him, he wanted to scream, "Send me to Voyager! Please, send me to Voyager!" But instead, he materialized on the bridge of an unknown ship, and immediately his senses were bombarded. Sights, sounds, smells - all strange, all overwhelming. Tom materialized beside him and seemed just as dazed. Intense heat, sparks flying from exploding consoles, shouting. Humanoids who resembled a cross between fierce Klingons and spotted Talaxians hurried around them. Most appeared to be wounded in some way, and all were extremely thin. Again he felt guilty, almost ridiculous with his pristine clothes and well-fed stomach.

A male with long, unkempt hair who made Chakotay feel short, clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Mawasi, Starfleet man. Today we fight and we die so tomorrow we may live." Then he hurried by, shouting orders all the while, to take the con from a fallen comrade.

"Captain, Chakotay and Paris were beamed aboard our vessel."

A thrill went through him at the sound of the smooth familiar tones of Tuvok, knowing he was addressing Kathryn. Chakotay pivoted around to see the Vulcan standing at a console staring sightlessly before him, yet ably tapping various buttons. How incongruous to see the usually immaculate Vulcan with overgrown hair and beard, his jacket minus one sleeve.

A disheveled Seven of Nine manned another console. He briefly wondered if they'd managed to devise a regenerator for her. A blast rocked the ship, and she landed hard on the deck. Tom went to assist her to stand, examining the arm she cradled awkwardly against her.

Then he heard it. Impossible over the noise, and yet he heard it clearly all the same. A gritty whisper of the voice he loved. Just a breath, but it was the murmur of his name.

A blinding light drew him around, and through the view screen he saw a vessel out of control that scraped hard along Voyager's already severely damaged hull. Voyager - so like her captain, small and brave - now almost unrecognizable, pitted with countless holes and scorch marks. The other ship exploded, and the backlash caused him to stumble. He automatically reached for a handhold, only to jerk his hand away from something unbearably hot. The searing pain was a momentary distraction until he looked out the view screen again.

Voyager's forward hull was gone, and he held his breath until he heard her voice again. Garbled, rough with exhaustion and who knew what else, yet distinctly that of his Kathryn, still alive. She ordered everyone to drop their temporal shielding.

He knew what she was going to do. Her traditionalist upbringing and her Starfleet training would demand no less of her. He knew the answer before he even asked, but he had to try all the same. "Tuvok," he shouted over the noise, "can you beam me to Voyager?" It was not his intention to try and stop her, only to be there with her, to be of help if possible.

"Negative, Commander. We do not have the power. I'm sorry." Although Tuvok's face remained impassive, he truly sounded regretful.

In the background he could hear Tom inquiring about Harry and B'Elanna. The sight out the view screen was horrifying, but he could not tear his eyes away, even when he heard a cry of dismay from Tom.

Voyager looked tiny and hopeless next to the mammoth Krenim ship, yet it dauntlessly continued to edge closer and closer to the side of the time monster. "Kathryn," he breathed, just as the small ship slowly crumpled like a tin can into the weapon ship.

Chakotay felt the moment she died with a searing pain that lanced through his gut, wrenching a cry of agony from the depths of his being. A part of his soul extinguished at that moment like a snuffed out candle. The view screen swam before his eyes, but he saw the rippling explosions begin and expand on the Krenim ship until all his vision glowed bright red.

Day 1

Chakotay smiled as he glanced around the bridge at the excited crew. Harry looked like he was going to jump out of his skin with joy as he and Seven of Nine announced the successful implementation of the new astrometrics lab.

"In fact," the young man said, as he continued to tap at his console, "we're in the process of charting a new course home."

That news thrilled Voyager's captain. With a happy grin, she said, "I'd say this is a cause for celebra-"

"Captain," Tuvok interrupted, "a vessel is approaching off the port bow."

They found themselves facing a new species, the Krenim. Fortunately, they seemed non-hostile, and after the usual introductions, the alien shared some advice.

"This region is in dispute," the Krenim commandant said. "I would suggest you avoid our territory."

"Thanks for the warning," Janeway replied.

The Kremin nodded politely. "Good journey," he stated, then the connection closed.

Commander Chakotay could tell his captain was feeling very upbeat, and why not? A new astrometrics lab, a shorter trip home, and a non-hostile first contact.

She leaned across the console toward him. "Well, that was a brief first contact, but a peaceful one."

"And that makes it a successful one, as far as I'm concerned," he responded. "Tom, plot a course around Krenim space."

Their happy times were often few and far between, and as Kathryn had said, this was a day to celebrate. "So what do you think?" he asked. "How about a ground-breaking ceremony for our new lab? Say, 2000 hours?"

Kathryn's eyes were sparkling as she leaned closer and whispered to him. "I think I'll replicate a bottle of Saint Emillion for the occasion. A 2370 - I hear that was a good year."

A thought popped into Chakotay's mind, and he paused to consider it. While doing some reading a week ago, he'd come across an historical naval story that captured his attention because of the parallels with their own situation. Even though it had consumed a lot of his replicator rations, he'd reproduced a copy of Captain Cray's ancient chronometer for Kathryn, intending it for her birthday in a couple of months.

The gift was the perfect combination of not too personal, yet demonstrating his support and deep care for her. However, considering the new astrometrics lab, and the refined course currently being plotted, perhaps now was the right time for it. He still had over two months to figure out something else for her birthday. It was always a joy watching her face whenever she opened a present, and he wondered how she would react to the watch.

He made his decision. "Captain, why don't you stop by my quarters before we go to the ceremony? I've found a true story in the database about a nineteenth century British mariner that I think you'll find interesting."

A sly grin spread over her face. "Chakotay, I didn't know you were a history buff."

Was it his imagination, or did she slightly hesitate on the last word? The twinkle in her eye told him that the flirting game was on again, just like the old days. It had been a long time, and a sizzle of delight arrowed through him. Well, he could give as good as he got. "I have a number of areas of expertise that you still don't know about, Captain," he murmured quietly.

The way her eyebrows shot up, he wondered if he'd gone too far, but the low chuckle from her reassured him. Then with a wink, she fired the final shot that left his jaw slack with shock and amazement.

She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I guess I'll just have to make the time to learn about all those unexplored areas. As a captain, I would be remiss if I weren't thoroughly…" A moment's pause, then she continued, "...familiar with all of my first officer's skills, don't you think?"

The End

Feedback? Please. Brianna Thomas

© Brianna Thomas, August 2005 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.