See Part One for Disclaimers
Chakotay and his small group crept quietly along the perimeter wall. Somewhere close there should be a small outlet from the air vents servicing the tunnels deep under the base. According to Tuvok's source, the lower areas were no longer in use, except for storage purposes. His hand slid carefully over the smooth metal as they inched forward in the pitch blackness. Then, his fingers caught on a grill, its mesh digging into his fingers reassuringly. It took only moments for them to remove the cover then slip into the tunnels depths before pulling the cover back into place behind them.
Porune had taken lead now; the exit into the base would certainly be secured with a force field of some description. Her knowledge and experience of breaking codes would see them in quickly and, hopefully, without detection. Chakotay was not to be disappointed. Ten minutes after entering the small tunnel they were under the base and spreading out to complete their various tasks. Tuvok and Porune would head to the lab, get what they could and head straight back to the ship. Chakotay was heading for the engineering section. Hopefully, tucked away somewhere would be spare dilithium crystals that they could make use of. The others were scouting for fuel, food whatever they could salvage. His orders to stun not kill had quirked a few mouths but all knew better than to argue. Besides, these were civilians not military.
The building was set out like a rabbit warren; corridors disappeared into the distance with no hint of where they led. And everywhere was quiet, too damn quiet. Chakotay felt a cold tingle creep up his spine as he penetrated further into the maze. There should be someone around, somewhere. No sound reached him from behind the closed doors he passed so softly, no hum of machinery, no music playing, no voices raised in conversation . . . just deadly silence. Were the others encountering this same phenomenon? It reminded him of an ancient Earth legend, the Marie Celeste; a ship found adrift at sea, all crew gone yet half eaten meals still sat on the table. He quashed the shiver that threatened to engulf him, instead increasing speed toward his goal, his hands tightening their grip on the phaser held ready for use in his hand.
The sudden squall of alarms rooted him to the spot, one hand still hovering near the access panel. From all sides, he could hear the sudden rush of feet, voices raised in chaotic discord. Flattening himself against the wall, he headed back down the corridor. Doors flew open around him, disgorging a rag tag bunch of civilians. All headed away from him down a side corridor, for the moment he went un-noticed. Then, behind him, the door to engineering swished open and two Starfleet security spilled into the corridor. His reactions were swift and accurate, before they could get off a shot he had phasered them both. Running swiftly now, he ran pell mell toward the nearest corridor, diving into it as phaser fire singed his shirt from behind. Cursing he dodged down another and then another, the map in his head standing him in good stead as he headed for the storage areas beneath the base. Ahead, two more Starfleet officers suddenly appeared in his way. He was on top of them before he could stop. In such close quarters his training took over, felling the first man with a crude yet effective punch to the throat, he span quickly knocking the phaser from the other's hand with a swift kick. The resultant fight owed more to his instinct for survival than science as the two men punched, gouged and did as much damage as possible to one another. Finally, Chakotay got his hands around the others windpipe and squeezed until he fell unconscious at his feet.
Recovering both men's weapons, he quickly jogged down to the access port, the object of his flight. From here, it was five levels down to the tunnels and the route back to the flyer. With luck, his team were already off the base and ready to leave. Whatever the outcome, the ship would leave in twenty minutes time, with or without their leader. It didn't pay to be sentimental when others lives were at stake.
With only a few feet to go an unease settled in his stomach. Someone waited below him, hidden in the dim passage beneath his feet. Although he could not see or hear them, he knew they were there. Every instinct warned caution. Beside him, just below his present position was a sub duct, an entry to the air filtering maintenance systems. He wriggled himself into the tiny space and waited, knowing that his approach had been heard and that his enemy would come looking for him. All the time the clock counted down in his mind.
A fiery red mop of hair preceded his opponent as he cautiously put a foot on the lowest rung. When the officer was within a hairs breadth of Chakotay's position his fist shot down onto the unprotected face, smack between the eyes. The man crumpled, dazed his feet slipping from the rungs as he plunged to the floor below.
Chakotay watched and listened for a moment or two, no outcry followed the man's descent. No one rushed to his aide. The fool had been alone!
When he reached the man's side the recognition he had refused to accept before hit home. The man groaning at his feet as consciousness returned was all too familiar, though they had not seen each other for more years than he cared to remember. Dragging him to his feet, Chakotay propped him against the wall and wondered what the hell to do with him.
Chakotay's eyes never wavered; his gun remained steadfastly trained on Jannay's chest. A small squeeze of the trigger and his academy buddy would be one more casualty of this damned non-war they were fighting.
The gold and black uniform had been a surprise, last time they had been in touch Jannay was still piloting for the Washington. It must be all of ten years ago that they had last communicated, a lot can happen to a man in ten years as he could well attest.
"You know I can't let you go, Chakotay."
"How do you propose to take me, Jannay? I'm the one with the gun, remember." His voice was cold, the normally warm brown eyes held more than their fair share of anger.
"Starfleet --"
The distaste that flitted across his face must have registered on Jannay, he watched the man stiffen. His friend was 'fleet to the core, bigoted and closed minded. Not the person who had worried over flight simulations, not the person who had covered for him after a drunken bout. But then, he had changed too. He had never found it easy to make connections with others. He was a good listener a good leader but the more intimate relationships seemed to pass him by. This man had been his only friend at the Academy. The only person with whom he could share his fears for they were mirrored by his own.
Footsteps pounded down the corridor behind him. He tensed, phaser rifle ready. Porune ran round the corner, gun in hand.
"Cardassians. At least thirty, maybe more. Couldn't get to the inner corridor but Tuvok has the people from the science lab." She bent over, gasping for breath.
"Shit!" His expletive pretty much summed up his feelings at that moment. "Is the way clear back to the shuttle?"
Her negative reply only increased his anger. A quick glance at his chronometer; they had less that ten minutes to reach the rendezvous point or Tuvok would leave without them. You do not endanger the mission or the crew for one person.
"Move." Decision made. The gun indicating the direction he wished Jannay to take. "Don't even think about trying to get by me, Jannay. You don't want to try my patience, and you do not want to try your luck with the Cardassians."
Whether through luck or honed Maquis skills, the trio found their way to the nearest duct empty of Cardassians and Starfleet alike, though the sounds of conflict echoed above them. The civilians stood no chance against the war like invaders.
Chakotay took the lead as they entered the narrow tunnel, knowing that Porune would deal with Jannay should the man try any stupid moves. Better to sandwich him between them than to entrust their safety by letting him exit first. Two thirds of the way up and voices reached them from below. Phaser fire missed Porune's feet by millimetres. Her curses spurred them all to increase their speed. Even Jannay had no intention of being caught by the enemy.
As they sprinted to the rendezvous point, Chakotay's rifle trained on his back, Jannay could only wait his chance to escape. He did not understand what had occurred on the base. That the Maquis and the Cardassians were both intent on capturing the scientists was a given, what those same scientists were involved in now focused large in his thinking. And who would get the blame for the slaughter of civilians that was surely occurring behind them? The set, grim faces of his captors gave little hint to their thoughts.
For the first time he questioned the reports Admiral Drake had been so insistent he read.
Porune stumbled; her foot caught on the uneven ground. As she went down, Chakotay stooped to grab her arm, half dragging her back to her feet. In the slight confusion, his prisoner made a sideways feint then headed back toward the base. With a curse, Chakotay fired, bringing him down hard.
"Leave him," Porune shouted, as she opened a link to the ship.
"No way. I want to know who set us up, what the hell Starfleet were doing there, and why this man was put in charge. Someone is screwing with us; I want to know who. This was no happy coincidence, Porune."
She nodded slowly. "You think we have a traitor in the team." Knowing Chakotay's instincts were usually to be trusted, she did not query his belief.
B'Elanna was furious. With the Cardassians for knowing about their raid, with Starfleet for also being there, and with Chakotay for bringing one of them on board. Fiery at the best of times, Chakotay had to resort to extreme measures to quieten the angry woman. His fingers tightened painfully into her bicep until she dragged her attention to the pain and away from her diatribe.
"Quiet now. I need you on the engines, you can bet the Cardys won't let us get away that easily, nor 'fleet, should they have the manpower." His gaze rested questionly on his prisoner's face. The man just stared, saying nothing.
Chakotay changed places with Dent who had been left in charge of the ship, no small task avoiding surveillance from below and above. Checking his scanners quickly, he listened to reports coming in from the other stations. Things were not looking good. So far, the Starfleet contingent seemed too heavily engaged with the conflict below to take notice of their flight. The Cardassians were another matter. As soon as the little ship headed out into space, sensors flashed in every department. Without even time to issue a warning, the first blast hit, reducing their shields and knocking them almost into a spin; warp drive went off line before they had even set a course.
"I said, no fancy flying." B'Elanna was tucked in behind the panelling, having given up on the control board in front of her station.
Another shot, this time on the port side.
"Shields down to fifty percent. B'Elanna, I need that warp drive back on."
"Enemy ship closing. Weapons targeted." Tuvok's calm voice sounded ominously in the narrow confines of the flyer's small bridge.
"Return fire. Hit them with everything we have."
"We have nothing to hit them with, Captain," came the Vulcan's stoic reply. "Weapons went down with that last hit."
Chakotay swerved the vessel to port as another burst of fire came hurtling their way, missing them by a fraction. T'Mel's intensive training courses had stuck.
"Now, try it now!" Torres' voice rang across the room. Punching in the co-ordinates, Chakotay initiated warp drive. Beneath him the little ship heaved as yet another burst of energy hit their shielding, but B'Elanna's efforts had again saved them. They streaked out of the area at warp 6, the best the old bucket could manage without shaking apart.
"Remind me I owe you a drink," grinned Chakotay at his engineer.
"Make that a chocolate fudge sundae and I'll let you off all the drinks you've promised me over the years," she replied, a self-satisfied smile lighting her face.
Settling the ship gently down, Chakotay took a moment to thank the Spirits for their safe arrival. Coming in through the stratosphere had been bumpy, the ship groaning its protest as pressure built to almost unbearable levels against its hull. But, once again, they had survived -- just.
Although his mission had failed others on the team had been luckier. Tuvok had managed to get into the lab, with Porune's help, and although they had not managed to salvage any equipment they had downloaded some data before all hell had broken loose. The scientists, given a choice between the Maquis and the Cardassians had thrown in their lot with his grim warriors.
Seska waited for them, just inside the tunnels. She was to escort their reluctant passengers on to the Maquis headquarters where the research could be thoroughly analysed and hopefully adapted to their own ships. To be able to cloak their small fleet, and fire through that cloak would end this war in a matter of weeks.
His gut tensed as he saw the solemn expression Seska wore. Though they had once been intimate, he now shared only a tense friendship with the Bajoran freedom fighter. He knew her well enough though to worry.
"What's up?"
"We heard about the raid. Picked up a piece of information from the 'fleet net that you might find interesting. You have a Lt. Jannay with you?" Chakotay nodded tersely.
"Well, seems that same Lieutenant was the blue-eyed boy of a certain Admiral Drake. Right now, he has everyone looking for him. According to the gossip, he drafted this 'fleeter in because he knew you back in the Academy, was using him to get to you. Now, he is claiming that his disappearance and the deaths of his team make him a traitor!"
Chakotay ruminated on the idea for a moment. It could be that this rumour had been 'allowed' to find its way to them. That Jannay had been sent to infiltrate the Maquis via his past association with himself. Yet, that didn't sit right with the way Jannay had reacted. Given the chance, he was sure Jannay had had every intention of catching the Maquis, not joining up!
He was too damn tired to think straight. Paranoia stared him in the face, the first chink in his armour. He needed sleep, food and time to reflect. Jannay or one of his own; who had set them up?
For the moment, he ignored her remarks, asking instead, "Marcus?"
"Holding on, barely."
Porune, who had been standing quietly behind him, suddenly headed past the pair, almost running down the tunnel. Tired eyes followed her swift passage as he fought down the wave of compassion threatening his weary mind. The ache behind his eyes surged and retracted leaving him dizzy for a brief second.
"Go and rest, Chakotay. I'll see someone calls you if anything happens." Seska's hand was firm, insistent on his arm. He raised a half-hearted smile in response.
"Later. There is too much to do. When do you leave?"
"Soon as my 'passengers' are onboard the Viking." Her eyes met his for a long moment. "Don't take any chances, Chakotay. Something round here isn't right. I don't know what but --" She glanced round and, seeing they were alone, kissed him quickly on the cheek before hurrying off to her own mission.
As he walked toward the makeshift holding cell, he turned over her words. So, he wasn't the only one with suspicions.
Passing Marcus' room he could not help but look. Porune sat at his bedside, one of his hands clasped tightly in her own. He had never seen her affected by anything. Her ice-cold heart un-melted by the most gruesome of scenes. His heart went out to her, to find someone for whom she could feel something only to have him taken away.
Leaving her to her solitary vigil, he continued to his meeting with Jannay still uncertain of whom to trust.
Chakotay observed the security officer from his vantage-point at the door. The years had been good to him, he looked seasoned yet youthful. It had been a long time since he had looked that young. Life with the Maquis was tough; provisions were often short, as was their life expectancy. He had grown hard over the past years, very little could touch him now. Did he regret that? Strange, he hadn't worried about his heart in years; he existed from one day to the next.
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