Atonement (35 page)

“How's that going?” Cambridge asked.

“Very well. Commander Glenn assisted me earlier today, guiding me through a simple meditation. It was quite rejuvenating.”

Cambridge seemed surprised at this. “Really?”

“Really.”

After a short pause, Cambridge said, “You understand, my only concern is for your well-being.”

“I do. Do you understand that good intentions are no substitute for experience? You and I have not served together long. Our recent discussions, while helpful, have not been sufficient for you to pretend to grasp all there is to know of me. You have raised some valid points, and your suggestion that I try to rest my program has been surprisingly effective. But you are no more perfect than I am. Sometimes your observations may simply be wrong.”

A
faint smile passed over the counselor's lips. “Wrong?”

“It happens to the best of us.”

“Would you care to share a specific example, beyond my apparent overreaction to your demeanor during the briefing?”

“Certainly. You are wrong about Seven.”

This took the counselor aback, and he paused to digest the accusation while crossing his arms at his chest.

“How so?”

“You have decided that her former attachment to Axum will outweigh all other considerations, including her affection for you, and that she will choose to remain with him rather than return to the fleet.”

“He was her first love,” Cambridge said bitterly. “Her physical cues when speaking of him are incredibly powerful. They were divided by circumstance. Fate has remedied that. Even setting her sense of obligation to him aside, I would be amazed if she did not find the prospect of exploring the potential of their relationship in the
real world
both irresistible and temporarily satisfying.”

“He was
Annika
's first love,” the Doctor corrected him. “Seven is not Annika. Seven has become an entirely new person in the years since she met with Axum in Unimatrix Zero. She has experienced realities that go so far beyond the mundane as to defy description. Annika never existed beyond the few years of life she lived before assimilation. The version of her that Axum knew has not existed for years. Seven's rejection of the Caeliar is the surest indication that her past no long defines her future possibilities. And against all logic, reason, and evidence of taste,
Seven chose you.
She shared with you something she had withheld from many a better man. Her choice to go to Axum's aid had nothing to do with you. Your choice since then to assume the worst of her merely indicates your deep-seated insecurities and inability to grasp exactly what you've been fortunate enough to find with Seven.
You
are as surprised as I am by her choice in romantic partners. I would suggest you reconsider, because
she will return
. And when she does, you had best be prepared to answer for your lack of faith.”

The counselor was, for once, speechless. The Doctor added, “Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

•   •   •   •   •

Captain Chakotay remained seated as the briefing room cleared. Admiral Janeway waited until the room was empty before moving to sit beside him. It was ridiculous to feel as if he was speaking to her for the first time, but Chakotay found himself framing his thoughts as carefully as if that were the case.

“Assuming B'Elanna is right, and that Lsia intentionally sent an advanced virus to
Voyager
to study our systems and plant that file, we are now, officially, at a disadvantage.”

“How so? We found the program before she could activate it. I'd say we're ahead of whatever game she thinks she's playing,” Janeway observed.

“We have assumed, until now, that she was surprised to find us negotiating with the Confederacy.” Chakotay went on. “Her first move was to attempt to sever any potential alliance between us and them by using that tribunal to cast aspersions on you and the Federation. Had she succeeded, we would have been taken off the board, and she would have been free to try and convince or force the Confederacy to explore these wastes in search of Seriar.”

“Yes.”

“But this casts doubt on those assumptions,” Chakotay stated. “If she always hoped to return to
Voyager
and utilize that program, why would she have risked losing that opportunity by almost destroying our ship and then trying to humiliate us in front of the Confederacy?”

“Like any skilled tactician, she probably set many contingencies in place initially,” Janeway suggested. “She might have feared that
Voyager
would begin to search for her, as you would have, had the fleet's encounter with the Children of the Storm gone differently, or had the Omega Continuum not been an issue. Had you found her before she could cement the alliances she required to face the Confederacy, having access to our primary systems would have come in handy.”

“Don't
you think she took your victory over her a little too well?” Chakotay asked.

“She's not an idiot. She's lived we don't know how many lifetimes. Defiance was no longer an option. She might not have expected our willingness to assist her. She's learning more about us at the same time we're learning more about her.”

“Do you honestly believe we're going to find a planet in the middle of those wastes that has eluded detection by the Confederacy for five hundred years?”

“I don't know what we're going to find out there,” Janeway replied. “I know that whatever it is, it's valuable enough to her to warrant extreme measures. I also know that if we don't take this opportunity to find it, the Confederacy will.”

“Presider Cin would have been happy to let the matter drop,” Chakotay reminded her.

“General Mattings wouldn't,” Janeway insisted. “He strikes me as a man who doesn't like unanswered questions. There is nothing to prevent him leading a force out here to explore the area. And given all the presider is facing politically, she might not have the time or the political capital to deny his request. If Mattings made a case for the potential value of any discovery out here to the Market Consortium, they could do whatever they wish, even over Cin's objections.”

“It's their space, Kathryn,” Chakotay said. “Whatever is out here belongs to them and ultimately, they will have to decide what to do with it.”

“Agreed. But Lsia and her people could aid them in understanding what they find. We're simply facilitating that and hopefully eliminating what could become a flashpoint for future conflict.”

“And risking our ships and our crews in the process.”

Janeway bowed her head. “Nothing we do out here comes without risk.”

“That's true, but when we risk, it needs to be for good reason. I hate to sound callous, but what's in it for us?”

“Maybe nothing,” Janeway said. “Aren't you curious?”

“Definitely. I'm
also afraid that we are underestimating her. I'm afraid that she's thought this through twenty moves out, and no matter how good we are, we aren't going to be able to find every trap she's set for us.”

“As long as she and the others remain behind the anti-psionic field, they cannot threaten us.”

“We could suffer power losses. Those fields could fall. Hell, if the ship were somehow destroyed, she and the others could simply abandon their current hosts and find the next nearest living beings to possess.”

“Chakotay, you may be right. But I will not lead this fleet guided by my fears. Fear is helpful when it leads us to act mindfully. But if we're going to let it run the show, we should go home now.”

Chakotay considered this. “I don't understand why I can't shake it off anymore.”

Janeway placed a hand over his. “For the first time in our lives, we want more than to survive the day. Somewhere out there in the as-yet-undefined future is a dream we both share of a life beyond answering to duty. There's nothing stopping us from letting all of this go and stepping into that future. But as long as we're here,
this
has to be the only moment that matters. Living for that future will damn us as surely as retreating into our past.”

Chakotay smiled. “That's what I had to learn when I lost you. How is it possible I forgot that lesson the moment you came back to me?”

“Apparently I'm a terrible influence on you,” Janeway teased.

Turning his palm, Chakotay twined his fingers around hers, and he lifted her hand to his lips. “That must be it.”

“I'm not in a hurry to leave this life,” Janeway said. “And I don't want to see any of our people suffer for our command decisions. But I think we've proven that together, we're reasonably formidable.”

“Together, then?” Chakotay asked.

“Always,” Janeway replied.

PALAIS DE LA CONCORDE

PARIS, EARTH

D
octor
Sharak had followed his orders. He had returned to his temporary quarters in San Francisco immediately following his conversation with Commander Paris and Lieutenant Wildman. From there, he had spoken for several hours with Ratham and Ambassador Jarral. The ambassador had transmitted the appropriate requests through his diplomatic channels, and in the middle of the night, local time, first thing in the morning in Paris, Sharak had transported there and entered the Palais, certain that, within hours, he would be granted a few minutes of President Bacco's time.

He had been right about the wait. Six hours later he had been politely refused an appointment and been assured that the president would make time to meet with Ambassador Jarral as soon as her schedule permitted. Sharak hadn't been deterred. He had spoken to three undersecretaries, including one with direct access to the president's chief of staff, before it had been suggested that if he did not leave the premises, he would be escorted out.

This had been more shocking than insulting. Obviously, it was impossible for the president, or her staff, to understand the seriousness of his request or the intelligence he had come to provide based upon the tepid language Jarral had used to cloak the request. But that shouldn't have mattered. If the president was truly the mother of her people—as Tama's political representatives embodied him as father—no request from any of her children should have been met with such dismissive disdain.

There was still so much about the Federation that eluded Sharak.

Even as the day was drawing to a close, there were still a number of people standing outside the main entrance to the Palais behind a low blockade. These were press representatives eager to
engage the president and her staff. The moment any high-level official was seen, they were immediately bombarded with questions. Some paused for brief exchanges, while others hurried on their way. Sharak distinctly heard the term “Typhon Pact” thrown about liberally during these brief, vociferous discussions.

Consumed with these thoughts and overwhelmed by his ineffectualness where the need was so great, Sharak slowed his steps. He
should
go immediately to the nearby embassy. Ratham and Jarral would be anxious to learn the results of his efforts. He was in no hurry to disappoint them.

“Excuse me, Doctor Sharak, isn't it?” a melodious male voice inquired.

Turning, Sharak beheld a Cardassian wearing a meticulously tailored suit in deep green and brown colorations. He smiled pleasantly at the doctor, and his eyes held Sharak's intensely. Although Sharak had encountered few members of this species during his time in the Federation, he could not help but feel an immediate sense of trepidation. He understood the Federation's long history with the Cardassians to have been somewhat fraught, and he was immediately on his guard.

Either the man was accustomed to this or keenly sensitive to it. His smile widened as he bowed his head, saying, “It is always an honor to meet a Child of Tama. I have had the pleasure of speaking several times with your Ambassador Jarral. I never fail to find those conversations enchanting.”

Sharak nodded warily.

“Forgive my presumption, but I was advised that you had become quite proficient with Federation Standard. If I was misinformed, permit me to begin again.
Zima. At Anzo.”

“You were not misinformed, sir,” Sharak said quickly, though he was curious to know how much of his language this man might have troubled himself to learn.

“Garak,” the man said, clearly pleased. “I am Elim Garak, the Cardassian Ambassador to the United Federation of Planets.”

“I am Doctor Sharak,” the doctor replied as cordially as he could.

“Yes.
Your reputation as a man of great ability and honor precedes you,” Garak said, inclining his head again.

“I apologize,” Sharak began. “I have never heard your name before.”

“There is no reason why you should have,” Garak assured him. “I was once but a simple tailor, exiled from my home. The challenges of the last several years have seen my star rise to unexpected heights. But like you, I fear not high enough to serve my people as well as I would wish.”

Sharak understood Garak's words well enough, but could not help but sense that he was missing many deeper insinuations.

“I spent most of this day like you, my dear doctor: hoping to be granted a few minutes of President Bacco's time.”

“I see.”

“As I'm sure you appreciate, the president is an extremely busy woman. I have not taken her lack of attention to heart and neither should you,” Garak continued. “But, in my admittedly limited experience, I have found that there are times when a direct assault cannot be expected to bring about the desired result. Like most who occupy positions of great import, President Bacco only has time to concern herself with issues that her staff perceives as priorities.”

“That appears to be true,” Sharak ventured, wondering why the Cardassian ambassador should trouble himself to spend any time at all speaking with him, let alone offering him advice. In fact, Sharak was unsure if this was Garak's intention or simply the ambassador's unusual means of passing the time.