Protocols Unknown: A Decision of The Stars

Lines We Cross

"I trust the data," she said. "And I trust that what he wants isn't the only thing that matters anymore."

Chakotay studied her, eyes unreadable.

"You've always been better than the rest of us at separating logic from emotion."

She gave a tight smile. "That's not what I did this afternoon."

The silence between them stretched, taut and sharp.

"I remember a time you would've told me first," Chakotay said, voice low.

"I remember a time when I didn't have a daughter." She said it like armor. But it didn't hold.

He closed the distance. Close now. Too close.

"You still have me," he said.

Her breath hitched, just slightly. "Not the same way."

"Maybe not," he allowed, voice steady and honest.

"But I never left. I never walked off your bridge."

She didn't step back. But her throat moved, a swallow she couldn't quite finish.

"Then why now?" she whispered.

He leaned in, just enough for it to ache.

"Because I saw it. What you were willing to risk for him. And I needed you to see, someone's still willing to fight for you."

He didn't touch her, but the space between them shimmered, tense and electric.

Her hand twitched. A flicker toward him. Instinctive. Unfinished.

The door chimed.

She stilled. Her hand dropped.

Her voice cracked, low and raw.

"Don't make me choose between memory and possibility."

He didn't hesitate.

"I'm not. I'm asking you to remember who you are with me."

The silence that followed didn't break the moment. It carved it deeper.

They both stepped back. No touch. No more words.

And that, somehow, said everything.

Chakotay left, and Janeway stood alone for a moment longer, the silence heavy in the ready room. She exhaled once. Slow and measured.

When she straightened, it wasn't Kathryn who left the ready room.

It was the Captain.

Tuvok was already waiting for her just outside the doors.

He didn't speak. He fell into step beside her, following in silence as she headed for the brig.

In the brig, Janeway stood at the edge of the forcefield, staring down Varen without blinking. Her silence carved into the air, sharper than any weapon.

Tuvok remained close but silent, reading the temperature of the room with his usual precision.

Varen shifted, just slightly. A crack in the mask.

She stepped closer.

The forcefield hummed faintly, the only barrier between them.

Janeway didn't need threats. Didn't need raised voices. She was the consequence.

Tuvok took a small step forward, posture still impeccable. "You have one opportunity to provide useful information. Refuse, and the consequences will escalate beyond your comprehension."