Atonement (3 page)

“But you knew the Devore could not countenance the presence of telepaths in their territory,” Cin argued. “As your crew included telepathic species even before you encountered the
Brenari refugees, surely you would have been better served by simply charting a course around their space.”

“We understood, as the Devore did not, that the telepaths who were part of our crew posed no threat to them,” Chakotay insisted. “I agree that assisting the Brenari might be construed as crossing the line, but we were not aiding individuals who had come to make war on the Devore. Had their ship not been damaged, they would never have found themselves in Devore space. They were civilians, some of them young children. Their only goal was to get safely out of the Devore's territory as soon as possible. We shared that goal.
Voyager
possessed technology we believed would allow us to protect the Brenari the same way we were already protecting our telepathic crewmen. It seemed unconscionable to refuse to aid them.”

Cin shook her head. Clearly frustrated, she said, “Often when I spoke with Admiral Janeway in the last several weeks, I was struck by your Federation's seeming contradictions. You possess powerful advanced technology, but do not use that technology to conquer new territory. You hold your member worlds to basic shared standards but allow them to engage in species and cultural-specific practices that are completely alien to those of your Federation's founding members. You embrace diversity as one of your highest values even when that diversity leads to conflict between your member worlds. How have you not learned in more than two hundred years of existence how complicated your predilection for acceptance and tolerance makes your lives, or how much security would be gained by limiting either your exploratory efforts or the freedoms you permit your member worlds?” she demanded. “Your willingness to seek out the potential good in every species you encounter seems to constantly embroil you in avoidable conflicts.”

Chakotay considered her words carefully before responding. “They do,” he finally agreed. “But there is no way to add to our understanding of the universe, of the very nature of existence, and accept the limits you suggest. It is not necessary that every species we encounter share our views. We would likely have grown bored
with exploration long ago if they did. It is our differences that make our efforts worthwhile. Our determination is to honor the views of others, even when we do not embrace them. Defending ourselves and those unable to defend themselves from simple misunderstandings is not an idealistic fantasy. We have seen firsthand how different civilizations can evolve from deep-seated hatred to mutual acceptance and understanding. The Djinari and Leodt are a prime example of such an evolution. To adhere to a rigid and antiquated set of standards is to limit not only the potential progress of others, but our own possible development as well.”

“Pardon the interruption, Presider Cin,”
a voice came over the
Shudka
's comm system. “
General Mattings is reporting in as requested.”

“Put him through,” Cin ordered, raising a hand to pause Chakotay's remarks. “General Mattings, are your advance preparations complete?”

“All has been done according to your orders, Presider,”
Mattings reported. His voice was low and rough. It sounded to Chakotay as if the general was exhausted but refusing to admit it. The last time they'd spoken, Mattings had clearly been injured. But he had sworn to protect Chakotay's people as his own. The captain had no reason to believe the general was not living up to that promise.

“Very good, General,” Cin said. As soon as the words had left her lips, the doors to her suite opened and her Leodt first consul, Lant Dreeg, entered quickly and moved to stand directly in Cin's line of sight.

“Forgive me, Presider, but I have received the CIF's latest report, and I cannot allow you to risk destroying the accord that was purchased with so much Confederacy blood less than one day ago. The
Kinara
have what they want. They are prepared to continue negotiating with us in good faith. You must not allow any personal concerns you might have for Admiral Janeway to cloud your judgment at this critical juncture.”

The presider squared her shoulders. Her tendrils stiffened behind her and remained taut as she said, “General Mattings, have you assumed command of the
Third Calvert
?”

“Yes, Presider.”

“Stand by,”
Cin ordered. Locking her bright green eyes on the black stones set below Dreeg's brow ridge, she said, “I appreciate your concerns, First Consul. As always, I will bear them in mind before I reach my final decision regarding the
Kinara
. For the moment, I do not require anything further of you.”

“Presider,” Dreeg said.

“Lant,” Cin said sharply, taking him aback. “Before my mission to open
negotiations
with the
Kinara
had begun, you worked behind my back to secure an agreement favorable to the Market Consortium but on terms you knew would be unacceptable to your presider. You did so because you did not trust me to act in our people's best interests. You betrayed me. You betrayed Admiral Janeway. You have grossly overstepped your authority. That ends now. Your counsel is noted. Leave my presence and do not presume to access it again until I request that you do so.”

“The people of the Confederacy—” Dreeg began.

“Elected me to lead them,” Cin finished. “And I will continue to do so until another is chosen to take my place.”

Undeterred, Dreeg said, “You realize, of course, that the Consortium may call for a vote of no-confidence at our discretion.”

“I do,” Cin acknowledged. “You might best use the rest of the current cease-fire to return safely to the First World and begin collecting the necessary votes. In the meantime, I will do what I can to mitigate the damage you have caused.”

Dreeg nodded warily and departed. As Chakotay watched him go, a newfound respect for Presider Cin took root. He had wondered up until now what might have caused Kathryn to risk so much on the Confederacy's behalf. Finally, he was beginning to understand.

“Presider,” he said softly, “is it your intention to order the CIF to rescue Admiral Janeway, or merely to end the
Kinara
's hold on this region of space?”

“That determination has yet to be made,” she replied. “The
Kinara
indicated that they wish to place the admiral on trial for
her past transgressions against them, and she willingly agreed to participate in that trial.”

“Only because she feared that her refusal would result in the loss of every CIF vessel in the area,” Chakotay noted. “Do you honestly believe they intend to give her a fair hearing?”

“That remains to be seen,” Cin said.

“Presider Cin, we are receiving a transmission from the
Manticle,” the communication officer's voice reported.

“Put it through to my suite,” Cin ordered.

Chakotay turned to face the large viewscreen that sat opposite the presider's desk. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to remain where he stood rather than returning to
Voyager. Or better yet, arm myself with two phaser rifles and transport directly to the
Manticle.

This was the only location from which he could take the Confederacy's temperature moment by moment. Once the trial began, their responses would be critical. His experiences with General Mattings had destroyed any confidence he'd once felt in his ability to predict Confederacy choices. He hoped that Kathryn had been wiser in her assessment of the presider.

Her life depended on it.

VOYAGER

The doors to engineering were open as Lieutenant Harry Kim approached them, weaving through the constant flow of foot traffic with some difficulty. Officers and crewmen double-timed their way in and out, their hands heavy with freshly replicated replacement parts and tools. No one spoke in conversational tones. Orders, requests, and reports were shouted over the constant din and commotion. Despite the sense of chaos, their focus was singular: get
Voyager
moving again as soon as possible.

Fleet Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres stood in the eye of the storm, her face and uniform covered with grime, her hands flying over the main console stationed just beneath the combined warp/slipstream core that was the heart of
Voyager.
The ship's
chief engineer, Lieutenant Nancy Conlon, stood on the catwalk that circled the room's second level just outside the doors of her private office, deep in conversation with two of her subordinates who had the good sense to simply nod quickly as she tersely issued their orders.

Kim caught Conlon's eyes as he headed toward the central console without distracting her from her current duties. A smile so faint he might have imagined it crossed her lips. Kim felt his own face soften a bit and nodded in response without missing a step.

On any other day, the speed, precision, concentration, and devotion Kim saw before him would have buoyed his confidence in his ship.

Today, they merely reinforced the fragility of
Voyager
's current predicament and reminded him how close they had just come to annihilation.

“B'Elanna,” he said softly, certain she was already aware of his presence.

“What is it, Harry?” she demanded without lifting her eyes from her console.

“It's time,” he replied.

She turned sharply to face him.

“The
Manticle
just established an open channel. They're going to start in a few minutes.”

“Have we sent
our
transmission?” Torres asked.

Kim nodded. “
Vesta
is handling it. Their comm systems are fully operational.”

Torres's face hardened. Kim wondered why she wasn't already moving to join him in the briefing room. What other possible response was there?

We are currently hanging dead in space surrounded by hostile alien vessels. Until I can get our shields restored, we are too vulnerable for me to leave my post,
Kim could hear her protest.

Instead, she said softly, “I can't watch it, Harry.”

Her words set his stomach churning. Kim squared his shoulders. “You heard Chakotay. The admiral's going to be fine.”

“Maybe,”
Torres agreed. “But if she isn't . . .” Her words trailed off.

“Hey,” Kim said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“My first duty is to the fleet, to this ship,” Torres said. “I'm needed here.”

“Okay,” Kim said. His feet were noticeably heavier as they carried him back to deck one.

Counselor Cambridge was the only senior officer waiting in the briefing room when Kim arrived. He had not taken any of the available chairs, but stood with his back resting against the bulkhead, his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes glued to the large viewscreen embedded in the wall.

Five individuals were seated on a raised platform behind a long table. Kim recognized three of them, the Voth Minister Odala, Devore Inspector Kashyk, and the Skeen commander, Rigger Meeml. The others were Turei and Vaadwaur officers who looked familiar, but Kim could not place them.

Cambridge's back stiffened as Admiral Janeway was led into the room. Kim's stomach soured again as Cambridge said softly, “I tried to tell her.”

STARFLEET MEDICAL, CLASSIFIED DIVISION

H
ello, Seven of Nine.”

Seven risked an educated guess. “Commander.”

The large bay located somewhere in the bowels of Starfleet Medical and containing almost fifty stasis chambers was nearly pitch black. Seven stood only a few meters from the man who had orchestrated her capture and placed her in one of those chambers without her consent. Worse, he had spent weeks using the catoms he had extracted from her when she arrived to perform
reckless, painful, and deadly experiments on individuals who, as best as Seven could tell, were not victims of the catomic plague. Seven had been led to believe when she was asked to return to the Alpha Quadrant that her assistance was vital to the efforts of the medical staff here. The implication was that her skills as a scientist and the insights unique to her as a former Borg would be critical to stemming the devastation of the plague. They had played on her personal concerns for the well-being of another former drone, Axum, who had been found at a starbase in the Beta Quadrant and who she had believed was undergoing medical tests inside this lab that could be classified as torture.

Everything she had been led to believe was a lie. The last thing she was prepared to do was to confront the party responsible for those lies in a dark room.

“Computer, increase ambient illumination,” Seven ordered.

The computer did not even beep in response to her verbal request.

“Apologies, Seven of Nine,” the Commander began. “Our central processor only accepts vocal commands from authorized officers of this division. You are not one of them.”

“Maintain your current position,” Seven said. She tried to keep the fear that set her heart racing from creeping into her voice. “Order the computer to turn on the lights.”

The silence that followed her request lasted long enough for Seven to begin considering the few tactical advantages she had. She was strong, though not necessarily stronger than some Federation species, and she had no idea what the Commander's planet of origin might be. She was fast and could use the stasis pods to conceal her position.

But the muscles of her body had lain useless for weeks. Intense physical therapy would restore them in a matter of days, but she didn't think the Commander would call a truce long enough to allow her to return to fighting condition.

Suddenly a voice sounded so clearly that it took her a moment to realize it only existed in her mind.
“Enhance your sensory processors,”
the voice suggested.