Star Trek Voyager: The Gift

Star Trek Voyager: The Gift 38. Distant Promises

Kenharan smiled warmly at Chakotay in greeting as the younger man entered his makeshift command base. “You’ve found a good pilot, most crews who come here need to be guided through the nebula’s interference by one of own pilots in a shuttle.”

“Paris being a decent pilot is the only reason I’ve kept him on so far, he doesn’t exactly have high standards in anything else.” Chakotay replied disparagingly, his stance stiff as he studied his surroundings intently. “I never thought any of the planets in the Badlands would be habitable, let alone this pleasant.” He commented admiringly.

“The Federation never seems to have thought so either, that’s why we’ve moved here.” Kenharan explained, gesturing at the wooden hut they stood in as well as the few, slightly more high tech buildings dotted around the grassy plain. “It’s a work in process at the moment, but our people have always lived out on the frontier. This world is unique, the atmosphere is thick and stable enough to hold the hell that is the Badlands at bay.” He chuckled bitterly, “Did you know that the Cardassians once suggested that all of the Federation colonists move here?” He sighed heavily as he sat down on the least rickety of the hut’s salvaged chairs. “I almost wish we’d listened, if it wasn’t so laughable, it would have saved a lot of blood from being shed.”

“It never would have worked.” Chakotay declared firmly, “The nebula around this planet may serve to hide us but for a civilian settlement being at the end of such an impassable route would kill it, which is what the Cardassians would’ve wanted.”

His statement made a fair point, a justified one even, but Kenharan couldn’t quite accept it. Perhaps it was the way he said it, in that jaded, resentful tone, that had caught him off-guard. Before now, when he’d spoken to Chakotay, the upright young man, however determined, had always had a sense of perspective, the knowledge that all of the Maquis would rather be living peaceful lives that this fraught existence, but Kenharan could now clearly see, barely three minutes into this meeting, that Chakotay had lost sight of his purpose, his judgement was clouded, although by what exactly Kenharan couldn’t tell. The reports that he’d been denying for weeks, that the heroically effective young leader was losing his grip, had been woefully confirmed. “I suppose you’re right.” He hedged in careful agreement.

Chakotay felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, hearing the resignation in the other man’s voice and, though he could find no reason for it, disappointment shining from his eyes. “Why am I here Kenharan?” he asked bluntly, suddenly impatient to retreat back to the safety of the Valjean.

Kenharan seemed to refocus at his prompting his tone becoming almost business like. “As you’ve no doubt guessed for our abrupt relocation here, the threat to the Maquis is growing every day.” He met Chakotay’s worried gaze candidly, “Starfleet has at least tripled the resources they’re using on us and it’s starting to take a toll.”

Chakotay nodded grimly, “I know. We heard about the attacks on our bases on Bemaris Prime and Dante II…”

“And Grolin III.” Kenharan added sadly.

“Grolin III?” Chakotay echoed, shocked and horrified. “That was our most fortified base, second only to the command section on Ephus!”

“Precisely why we’re starting to move everyone to the Badlands, but our bases in the Demilitarised Zone will be especially vulnerable while we’re stockpiling for the relocation.” Kenharan told him sharply, not pulling any punches as to the seriousness of the situation.

Chakotay’s frown deepened even further as his intuition told him something wasn’t right. “Wait, how could the Federation possibly know about all of those bases? We’ve always kept them completely separate for security reasons, there’s no communication between them without several intermediaries!”