A BEGINNING, A MIDDLE, AND A PROPER END

Voyager Vortex Two

"This means war, Paris. You know that, don't you?"

"Can't take a joke, hmm, Captain? Come on, Chakotay--it's just a dribble glass. Two minutes in the lav and you'll be washed and dried and good as new."

"Thanks for the suggestion. I just love standing around half-naked in a public washroom. Really." Above his soggy shirtfront Chakotay's eyes narrowed, but his lips were twitching.

"Uh-oh," said Torres, prompting a loud, echoing "Uh-oh!" from two-year-old Miral, perched high on her father's shoulders. "I recognize that old Tattooed-Terror glint in the eye. Whatever he does to you, Tom, don't expect any sympathy from me."

With a last pointed glare at Paris, Chakotay excused himself and headed for the washroom, but before he got very far he saw Janeway come through the banquet hall doors. Immediately changing course, he forged through the crowd and claimed his hug by the punch bowl, resting his chin a moment on the top of her head. "I was afraid you weren't going to get here. When I called your house last night and you didn't answer, I had visions of you stranded on an asteroid sticking out your thumb."

"It wasn't quite that bad, though I did have to hop a system shuttle for the last leg--Voyager is at Jupiter Station getting a few upgrades. I got home about four this morning and I'm still space-lagged, so don't hold me responsible for anything I say."

She hoped the flush in her cheeks wasn't as obvious as it felt, and was grateful that the warmth and bustle of the room would provide an explanation if he should notice and comment. She could smell the faint spice of his cologne, could feel that he was lean and fit, having escaped the epicurean temptations of San Francisco and taken regular advantage once again of holodeck training programs. Thank goodness they'd been in regular contact during the past year, so he wouldn't think it odd that she didn't comment on his appearance. As she disengaged from his arms she was glad to be presented with a ready-made conversation starter so her muzzy brain didn't have to come up with one itself.

"Forgive me for mentioning something that I'm sure you are perfectly well aware of, but--you're all wet." She dabbed with a napkin at a few small spots of dampness that had appeared on her own shoulders.

"Sorry, I forgot--I was just on my way to the washroom. Tom Paris. Dribble glass."

"I beg your pardon? --Never mind--there's Tom--I'll get it from the horse's mouth while you're gone."

By the time he rejoined her five minutes later, Paris had filled her in with a very biased and self-pitying account and had demonstrated his new toy. "I shudder to think how you'll retaliate next year," she laughed.

"It's all your fault, you know. You orchestrated the initial plot."

"I accept full responsibility." Her laughter caught a little in her throat. "I didn't notice before--you're wearing your Polynesian shirt."

"So I am--in your honor. How much leave time do you have?"

"A whole week!" she said, reverently. "You?"

"Same here. Schliemann's orbiting Venus for a couple of days, testing sensor modifications; then they'll be back for a little home shore leave. I'm going to my sister's after the reunion--the kids' science fair is on Tuesday, and I get to hand out the ribbons. If you don't have any specific plans, would you like to join me for a day trip on Monday? We can tour the mill and then go up to Machu Picchu."

"Oh, I haven't been there in years. I'd love to!"

The glow of thanks in her face, the quick clasp of her hand, took him by surprise. "Then--I'll come by about 0700 Monday, if that isn't too early. We'll need the whole day--"

"No, I should be adjusted to San Francisco time by then." They realized that they had been unobtrusively deserted by Tom and B'Elanna, and took the opportunity to find a reasonably quiet table. After providing him with directions to her house, she asked, "So how does it feel to be back in space?"

"It feels good. I've got a hard-working crew and my senior officers all get along well; we're a happy ship."

Something behind his smile spoke of qualifications. "But--?"

"Well--even though science vessels are notoriously informal--it's impossible to force true scientists into a military mold--that family feeling we had on Voyager is missing. The Schliemann isn't home; it isn't a community. I go into the mess hall and expect to see Neelix dishing up something 'creative'--but there's just the usual bank of replicators. I keep waiting for somebody to organize a hoverball tournament, or form a band, or put on a Talent Night--but nobody does, so I spend most of my off-time reading. But I'll get used to the different social rhythm."

"Now you know what that first year back was like for me. But at least I had Harry and the Doctor and a few other familiar faces. How do you like dealing with the duty-crazed bureaucrats?"

"Actually, most of my dealings are with Science branch; they aren't so much bureaucratic as compulsive, always insisting on more detailed reports. And except in first-contact situations, science ships aren't supervised as closely as exploratory vessels--you should try one."

"Bunch of mavericks, hmm? Sounds like the perfect ship for you."

"I especially like the fact that I'm expected to go on away missions. Of course I don't have much to contribute when we're studying a nebula, but for any mission that involves digging, I'm there with my shovel and micro-vac."

She poked his arm. "I bet you're having a ball bossing your first officer around--"

He chuckled. "Loving every minute of it." But then he sobered. "Sorensen is a fine first officer. But it isn't the same with her either." For an instant she saw regret in his eyes, and knew it was reflected in her own. And then he very deliberately changed the subject. "Say, do you know if Tuvok is planning to be here? I'm hoping he's getting as restless as I was--I want to recruit him. We just received orders to make a detailed survey of an odd region the Kennedy ran into, but to be able to do that we need to negotiate permission with a telepathic warrior species called--"

Looking about for Tuvok, he caught a glimpse of something over her shoulder, and his face changed. She turned to see that Seven had entered the hall, attended by, of all people, Reginald Barclay.

"--the Mandusina," he finished absently. "Kathryn, would you excuse me, please?"

"Of course." She rose with him and collected her champagne glass and napkin. "I'd better mingle, anyway, since I'm going to get you to myself for a whole day." From habit she put a hand on his shoulder as she passed, but for the first time the gesture felt contrived and unnatural, so aware was she of the contours of muscle and bone beneath the thin shirt, of the warmth of his flesh, and she quickly withdrew. She'd wondered if in time he would become if only again. She had her answer.

Standing at the buffet table munching olives, she had the distinct impression that she was not the only curious observer of Chakotay and Seven's meeting. They did not kiss, only clasped hands warmly but briefly, and chatted for some minutes without obvious strain. She told herself that she was simply a concerned friend, but when she became conscious of her relief that their reunion appeared to be much less awkward than hers and Mark's had been, she hastened away in search of a less disconcerting pastime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Monday morning, Chakotay presented himself at Janeway's front door before the sun had fully illuminated the venerable golden spires of the Bridge. He was ten minutes early, and she greeted him in bare feet and with a hairbrush in her hand. In a spasm of domestic pride she gave him a quick tour of the fifty-year-old bungalow that had captivated her from the moment she'd found the child's palmprints set into one corner of the living room wall. A personal sense of history was hard to come by in these more recent dwellings; she especially coveted the nineteenth- and twentieth-century homes in the Nob Hill and Pacific Heights neighborhoods, but such ancient structures needed the kind of constant attention and maintenance that she would never be able to provide.

After the tour she settled him on the sofa with a cup of tea while she finished dressing her hair. "This house suits you," he said. "No frills, but comfortable." Deep rose, green, and beige were the dominant colors, and, as in her quarters and ready room aboard Voyager, the shelves and walls were sparingly decorated with a mixture of historical and modern artwork and scientific equipment: da Vinci drawings opposite a holo-image of a nebula, bound books sharing space with an assortment of datapadds, a charred EPS relay next to a whimsical arrangement of something he thought must be vacuum tubes.

She reappeared briefly in the bedroom doorway, waving a hair clasp in impatient punctuation. "Why do I even have this place? Why do I like to show it off? Most single Starfleet officers on space duty live aboard ship, and why not? Everything they need is there. You've given up your apartment, and you're back home more than I am."

"Humans have a nesting instinct, a connection to place. That's what kept a ship full of explorers journeying homeward. I'm waiting for you to tell me you've gotten another dog."

"It would be fun for me when I'm home, but not so much fun for the dog when I'm gone. And without somebody in my life I can take advantage of as a sitter--"

Abruptly she vanished, and he heard the water running. When it stopped he called out, "There are pets on board Enterprise."

"Enterprise is a family ship."

"So was Voyager."

"Not intentionally, and not anymore! Then again, Captain Archer had a dog on the first Enterprise."

"There you go--a precedent. And you'd have to walk it in the holodeck."

She emerged from the bedroom. "Still advocating exercise over a hypospray, hmm? Well, I'm not as frazzled as I was a year ago." Sitting down opposite him she began to don sturdy socks and walking boots.

"I can tell." She looked a query at him. "You seem more rested, less drawn."

"I do? I suppose I do. I was feeling a bit--brittle--there for a while. But the performing poodle has retired, and I can be just a plain old captain again."

"Never plain, and a long way from old."

She gazed at him for the space of a slow breath. "You're too good to me, you know." He smiled and shook his head, and took another sip of tea. "You haven't even scolded me for holding us up. Give me just one more minute--I might need a jacket up there--" She hopped up and headed back to the bedroom.

"Mind if I look at your photo album?" A fabric-bound volume labeled Voyager was prominently displayed on her coffee table.

"Go right ahead. The Doctor gave me that. He just knew I'd want an extra copy for the house. He's a menace with that camera."

"Hey! Here's a full-length glamour portrait of Queen Arachnia! I think I'll ask him for a copy."

"Don't you dare. And I've threatened our resident shutterbug with deactivation if the news services ever get hold of that. I don't know what perverse twist of ego made me keep it."

"How could you not keep a souvenir of a role you were born to play?"

A furious exclamation reached his ears, and she appeared in the doorway, glowering. "Considering your vast experience as a rebel and mutineer, Tom should have written you in as one of Captain Proton's arch-villains."

"Ouch," he said with a wince. "You got me." She gave a "Hah!" of triumph and disappeared again, and he turned a few more pages. "This one of you and Seven at your birthday party is really good."

"That's one of my very favorites. I was so surprised to see her with Reg Barclay--" There was a sudden and deafening silence, and then she came slowly into the room, sympathy for him and irritation at herself mingled in her face. "Starfleet captains are supposed to be trained not to put their feet into their mouths up to their hips. I'm so sorry, Chakotay. I just didn't think." She had slipped into a gossipy tone from old and easy habit.

He understood her discomfort, without in fact sharing it. "You don't have to tread so carefully, you know. You're Seven's friend--you're going to talk about her now and then."

"But I ought to have the sensitivity not to do it right after your first meeting in nine months. --Well, I think I'm ready." She carried a small satchel in one hand.

He closed the album and retrieved his own bags from the chair in the foyer. "Then let's go."

The bungalow was but a quarter-mile from a monorail station, and they made short work of the walk along her shady street, enjoying the scent of young redwoods and pines in the early morning air. A few minutes in the rail brought them to the nearest shuttle station, where they secured passage on the next flight to Lima.

"Actually," Chakotay said, while they waited for the signal to board, "even though Seven and I haven't seen each other in person for a while, we've been in touch by comm call. And the basis of her relationship with Reg is mutual curiosity."

His tone of voice was so unremarkable, his posture so casual as he lounged in his chair, that she knew he must be teasing her. "Okay, I'll bite. How do you know?"

He leaned toward her with a wink. "I asked her."

She held up her hands in surrender. "All right, I admit it--I didn't have the nerve. Well, if you can ask her about her love life the two of you must still be friends." Though she had sincerely tried not to snoop, she could hardly help noticing that during Seven's relatively brief appearances at the party and banquet she and Chakotay had not spent any significant amount of time in each other's company. And when she herself had been talking to one of them, the other had always seemed to be on the opposite side of the room, and thus she had not had a chance to see them interact.

He laughed softly. "Of course we're still friends. We broke up; we didn't declare open war."

"I shouldn't have expected any less--you and Seven don't thrive on romantic angst. Well, who'd have thought. Seven of Nine and Reginald Barclay. Clearly Seven has a taste for older men."

"She says it isn't serious. Reg is intrigued by her unique blend of organic and technological systems, and Seven wants to broaden her understanding of human personality types. I guess in her limited experience Reg is just about unique."

"Reginald Barclay," Janeway declared, "is unique in anybody's experience of humanity. And I adore him." At the risk of tasting her boots twice in an hour, she asked, "As long as we're on the subject of relationships, are you still seeing Tessa?"

"No. She gave up on me."

"Gave up?"

"On meaning any more to me than she did. So how's Michael?" he added with a leering flare of his eyes.

"Doing a little snooping of your own, hm?" Even as she blushed she admitted to herself how much she missed his impudent humor, the smile that was most infectious when there was devilment in it. "He sends his regards."

The boarding signal interrupted them, and very soon they were airborne, Chakotay complaining almost at once about the rough ride. "I didn't know I'd need anti-nausea medication for this trip. Why did I send my ship to Venus? We could have beamed to Lima."

Janeway grunted and held on to the arms of her seat. "So you'd have missed this patch of turbulence, I take it?"

"You have to ask?"

Up from the seats in front of them popped a boy and girl about eight and nine years old, obviously brother and sister, with skin the color of espresso and eager brown eyes. "Are you pilots?"

Janeway beamed at them. "We sure are. Are you?"

"Not yet," said the boy, "but we're gonna be."

Spying the comm badges always worn by Fleet personnel even when in civilian clothing, his sister hung farther over the seat back. "You're in Starfleet, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are. My name's--"

"Lieutenant Jones," Chakotay broke in hastily. "My helmsman. And I'm Captain Smith. Are you two going to join Starfleet when you grow up?" He cheerfully ignored Janeway's just you wait glare.

Enthusiastic affirmatives flowed forth. "What kind of ships do you know how to fly?"

"Any kind you can name--"

"But the captain doesn't actually fly the ship, you know," Janeway cut in. "All the captain does is sit in a big chair and give orders, and lots of other people do the real work."

"You mean like the helmsman?"

"Especially the helmsman."

The kids grinned at each other as if they had just been taught a secret handshake. "So what's your favorite kind of ship?"

But the conversation was ended abruptly by the return of the children's mother with a tray of sandwiches from the replicator. "Mitchell! Belinda! Stop bothering these poor people."

"But Mom, they're in Starfleet and they can fly anything. They serve on a big ship--"

"They probably wish they were on it right now. Turn around and eat--you're the ones who wanted these."

But her scolding was affectionate and her smile of thanks to her children's victims was genuine, and so Chakotay felt free to say to them in parting as they all disembarked a half-hour later, "The best ship I've ever flown was an Intrepid class starship."

The kids looked at each other in dismay. "But those are so old," Mitchell protested. "They were built before I was even born!"

Chakotay shot an amused glance in Janeway's direction. "I guess I'm just old-fashioned."

"We expect to see you two in uniform pretty soon," Janeway added. She shook their hands in turn, and they puffed themselves up and elbowed each other in the ribs, and paid no attention to their mother's reminders not to forget their bags. "'Lieutenant'?" she said to her companion as they let the walkway carry them away from the landing platform toward the terminal.

"You didn't really want to tell them who you are, did you? Everybody on that shuttle would have been like those kids."

"Well, no. But 'Lieutenant'?" She gave him a playful shove. "If you're so old-fashioned, why aren't you carrying my satchel for me?"

"I've already got a duffel and a suitcase. I'm old-fashioned, not prehistoric." He made no move to relieve her of her burden.

"Chivalry is dead!" she cried to the heavens in mock despair, then looked up at him quizzically. "Do you really think of yourself as old-fashioned?"

"Well, I do still feel a little out of date. Don't you?"

"Occasionally, I suppose. We lost seven years, and we can't ever get them back. But they were good years."

"Yes, they were."

He smiled down at her, his gaze steady and warm, and the buzz of conversation around them receded. The moment lengthened. His smile slipped and the faintest of frowns appeared on his brow, and she wondered later whether she had imagined it or he really had drawn breath to speak just as a piercing whistle demanded their attention.

"That's my niece," he said ruefully. "I never should have taught her to do that--she's been known to break glass." He waved at the group of three, a woman and two teenagers, waiting at the end of the walkway.

Janeway was unsure whether to think saved by a whistle or damn that child. "You'll never lose her in a crowd, will you?"

Chakotay's sister, Ritanay, was a plant geneticist with SudAmerica Farms; dark and lovely and two years older than her brother, she resembled him not so much in looks as in manner, possessing his same easy friendliness. Her children, Cusi and Manco, were fourteen and sixteen respectively; they were polite and deferential, having obviously been admonished to be on their best behavior. As they walked from the terminal, Janeway quickly won Cusi's allegiance by praising the decibel level of her whistle. Manco, who dreamed of a career in Starfleet, was nervous about meeting her, but by the time the group reached the parking tower he had begun to say more than "Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am" in response to her questions about his studies.

"Amaru went on to work," Ritanay said. "We'll take you to the mill and then take your bags on to the house--the kids have some last-minute work to do on their projects while I'm out at the experimental farm. When you can get Amaru to let you go--he loves giving tours--you can borrow the company aircar to go up to Machu Picchu."

"I hope this wasn't a bad time to come--" Janeway said, a little self-consciously.

"Not at all," Ritanay hastened to assure her. "It's wonderful to meet you, and we'll have lots of time to talk over dinner." She slipped an arm about Chakotay's waist. "I'm going to make all the old family recipes. Father's spirit will be pleased."

"Just don't let him see you use the replicator instead of an open fire--"

When bags and people were securely loaded, Ritanay maneuvered the groundcar into the proper track, set the exit coordinates, and then proceeded to play host, pointing out the sights of Lima and drawing Janeway's attention especially to the surviving buildings from the Spanish colonial period, eight hundred years old and beautifully maintained, but now dwarfed by the domes and columns of the modern city. Fifteen minutes later they exited the traffic grid onto a side street, and were soon turning into the small mill; even through the groundcar's shell the aroma of roasting coffee was enough to make Janeway's mouth water.

Amaru's Incan heritage was reflected in his and his children's names and in the bright, complex patterns of his woven poncho. He was a stocky, smiling man who immediately made his guests feel as though their visit would be the highlight of his day. Janeway wished Cusi and Manco good luck with their projects, adding that she couldn't wait to hear about them later; Cusi grinned and Manco blushed, and Ritanay and Amaru wore the universal proud smiles of parents whose offspring have made a good first impression.

Amaru began his tour in the lobby at a small holo-display, obviously directed at schoolchildren, on the growing and harvesting of coffee plants. Janeway's intelligent questions proved her descended from farmers as well as admirals and engineers, and Amaru's discussion of the varieties of coffee and their respective soil requirements, the pros and cons of shade and full-sun cultivation, and genetic manipulation grew more technical. "Ritanay's work in nutrient processing at the cellular level, for instance, has helped growers increase yield without sacrificing quality. If you had another day you could visit my cousin's farm up north. This is his place in the pictures--five hectares of heaven. Next time you come we'll go there. Everything is so green and moist, not dry like Lima, with cascades of coffee plants down the terraces, so many colorful birds, mango and orange trees, pineapples and bananas, the perfume of wild orchids--"

Janeway smiled at his flight of lyricism. "It sounds lovely. Maybe you should have a coffee farm yourself."

"I did. That's how Ritanay and I met. But the high jungle is a little too remote for her. I keep threatening to retire there, though," he added with a grin. "We're harvesting now--still by hand, as we've done for centuries. You have to pick the cherries at just the right time--it's an art."

"Why can't you use sensors to determine optimal ripeness?" asked his avid pupil.

"You can, if you want to point a sensor at each individual coffee cherry. They don't all ripen at once, so you have to go through the orchard several times. A picker's eyes and fingers are much more efficient. --Now, once the berries are harvested they're processed the same day to ensure freshness--" He demonstrated a cutaway model of the machine that removed the fruit pulp and the mucilage coating the two seeds--the coffee beans--found within. "The beans are then sun-dried for several weeks, on a mesh which allows air to circulate around them. And then they're shipped to mills like this for sorting, roasting, packaging, and export."

When Amaru opened the door to the working area of the mill, they were enveloped by an aroma of roasting coffee thick enough, Janeway thought, to package along with the coffee itself. A handful of technicians monitored the machines that sorted the green beans by size and weight, the colossal roasters and flavorers, and the various test batches of new blends. "We're always experimenting," Amaru said. He pointed to some purple vegetation hanging in a bunch on one wall. "This is kruboru, a Vulcan herb that seems to increase the strength of espresso without making it more bitter. If we can get the blend consistent I think it will go over well."

"Not on Vulcan, I expect," Janeway commented, picturing Tuvok's disapproving scowl with an inward smile.

"No, Vulcan is not one of our larger markets. Caffeine is a stimulant, and therefore not quite proper. Some of the real nonconformists will drink decaf, though. Tellarites and Rigellians drink a lot of Terran coffee. But Klingons! They think they've mastered the art themselves--pfft! All they care about is strength and bitterness, not the subtleties of flavor--"

"That's what I've always said!" Janeway exclaimed, and from that moment she and Amaru were friends for life.

Chakotay tagged along behind them, more or less ignored and not minding in the least. Kathryn Janeway might be too much a slave to duty while aboard her ship, but unlike many other captains, once she made the decision to abandon professional surroundings for a while she knew how to leave professional concerns behind as well. She'd had precious few opportunities to do so during Voyager's homeward journey, and it gave him great pleasure to be able to provide her one today.

His enthusiasm notwithstanding, Amaru's informative tour did not last more than a couple of hours. Back in the lobby, he poured them each a cup of his most popular secret blend. "I've been salivating ever since we arrived," Janeway confessed as she brought the cup to her lips. She took a sip and her knees went weak. "Ohhhh, Amaru! Replicators can only dream of matching this. I think I'm going to faint!"

She swayed theatrically, and Chakotay, laughing and feeling smug, reached in reflex to catch her.

Her arms and shoulders were firm and muscled beneath his clasp, her back warm as she leaned momentarily against him for support. He drew away as soon as he was sure of her balance and tried to recover his own, hoping she was too distracted by gastronomic ecstasy to notice how he had trembled when her hair caressed his hands.

Amaru promised to bring several different blends to the house for Janeway to take home with her, and they thanked him for the tour and the loan of the aircar and set off for the Incan ruin high in the imposing Andean peaks. Groundcar grids and monorails and plastisteel edifices soon gave way to parkland and then to the irrigated terraces of the foothills.

"I wish we had time to fly over the Nazca geoglyphs," Chakotay said. "They're only about four hundred kilometers south of here, but sometimes you have to wait in line a good while. We'll do that next time, too."

"You know, I could get used to having my own private tour guide!" Janeway laughed, trying not to wish she could read a special significance into next time. Amaru had said next time, too. Was he making assumptions? Was she?

They had begun to climb now, mountain crags falling away beneath the shuttle. "Happy to be driving?"

"Definitely. I just compensated for an air pocket that might have cost us our breakfasts if that other guy was piloting." His hands lightly played the controls, adjusting the fuel mixture to allow a steeper ascent in the thinning air. "Have you ever gone up by llama train?"

"Llama train?"

"On one of our visits my father insisted we hike the Inca Trail from Cuzco, with llamas to pack the supplies. A couple of those passes are above four thousand meters, and we made the hike without triox--he wanted us to know how it used to be for lowlanders to come up here. I'm afraid it was a little too old-fashioned for me then, but I'd appreciate the experience now."

"I think I'll just meet you there--thanks all the same!"

After rather less exertion, they landed in the moderately crowded aircar lot separated from the city by a low ridge, and set off along the walkway to the entrance, followed by a pair of curious alpaca. The day was cool and damp enough that a light jacket was welcome. Below they could see the hairpin turns of the road that had once been the route for ground vehicles, but was now used mostly by hikers, cyclists, and llama trains. Once Machu Picchu, situated at an altitude of 2450 meters at the edge of the Amazonian jungle, had been difficult to reach; well into the twenty-first century the journey had required hours on an airplane, then hours on a train, and then a bus ride up the mountain. Before the development of triox the trip had been impossible for many who suffered from cardio-pulmonary ailments. Even in previous centuries, however, people had flocked here in such numbers that earlier governments had limited visitation to protect the site. That policy was all the more necessary now, as it was at most archaeological and historical sites; when any given spot on the planet was no more than a couple of hours away from any other, it was all too easy for such irreplaceable treasures to be overwhelmed with visitors and thus gradually destroyed.

In addition to the usual guidepadds available from automatic dispensers, guides of the living, breathing sort were also stationed at the entrance, some obviously students but most the native Andeans whose ancestors had lived near the sky for thousands of years. Janeway, however, suggested they explore on their own, and Chakotay agreed. Clinging to a narrow granite saddle, Machu Picchu had been lost to all but the locals until Hiram Bingham's discovery of its vine-covered ruins in 1911. Encompassing three square miles of magnificent stonework connected by three thousand steps, the city was divided into an agricultural area of terraces and irrigation channels that were both cultivation platforms and retention walls to prevent erosion, and an urban area, with a variety of roofless dwellings, temples, ornamental gardens, and fountains. Janeway had obtained a guidepadd but had little reason to consult it, Chakotay being well versed in the speculations concerning this amazing place.

"We'll probably never know for certain what purpose this city served or why it was built here. The Incans had no written language and the Spanish evidently didn't know about it. It might have been the residence of the Inca ruler and his family clan, or it might have housed the virgins chosen to serve the Sun and the nobility, or it might have been a ceremonial site, combining sacred geography with astronomy. At its highest point during the rainy season, the Southern Cross, which for the Inca was connected with rain and fertility, is directly above Salcantay." He pointed to a massive snowcapped peak on the southern horizon, and then to several others in succession. "The sun, which was the principal Incan deity, sets over Pumasillo on the December solstice, at the height of the growing season. On the planting and harvesting equinoxes it rises behind Verónica. And on the June solstice it rises behind San Gabriel, precisely lining up with the altar stone in the Temple of the Sun. That's a lot of astronomical alignments for one spot."

Janeway turned slowly with him, her guidepadd unused in her hand, letting his descriptions bring the place alive for her, remembering many such discussions during their journey of shared enthusiasms and interests. She loved his innate curiosity, and admired his deeply ingrained respect for other cultures and traditions. Sometimes she had to work at that respect, if such traditions thwarted her in some way, but Chakotay never did. "They'll miss you at the Academy."

"Oh, I'm just quoting the real experts. I try to read up on archaeological sites before I visit them."

"I think I understand why you like this one. You like the fact that we haven't been able to explain it. You might look for answers in your work, but you don't really want to find them all."

"Maybe so." With a kind of reverence he ran a hand over a wall of tightly fitted stones of varying size and shape. "Nearly a thousand years ago someone cut and placed these stones with nothing but what we would call primitive tools, and you can't even slip a piece of paper between them. When I come to places like this, part of me wants to believe that the builder imparted something of himself into the structures--that the walls remember, the way my father always said the land remembers."

She took a seat on a stone step. "Do ships remember?"

"Why not? I hope something's listening when I talk to my ship; otherwise I'm getting funny looks from my crew for nothing." He joined her on the step. A chill mist had partly obscured the neighboring peaks and drifted down the terraced mountainside below the city; the stones began to darken with the damp and the city seemed to float above the clouds. "Can you imagine what it must have been like to be Hiram Bingham? Archaeological discovery was so much more challenging then, so much more an investigation involving many disciplines, years of research hunting for clues, arduous travel, hacking through jungle with a machete and digging with picks and shovels, and incredible patience-- Sensors have made the job easy and fast, and I wouldn't give them up, but they've also taken away some of the thrill--and some of the understanding. When you have to climb to a ritual site at above 6000 meters gasping for breath, rather than beam there with your blood full of triox, you can better understand what the pilgrims felt, how important it was to them to build those mountaintop shrines."

"You haven't climbed to 6000 meters, have you?" she asked incredulously.

He shook his head. "No--even my father wasn't that adventurous." He gazed at mighty Salcantay in the distance. "It's hard to believe there's any place on Earth that can still seem untouched by time. You know the people of the high Andes still speak Quechua, the language of the Inca? And being an agricultural people, many still worship the mountain gods--or at least practice some of the rituals to hedge their bets. Mountain worship was all about fertility, about asking the mountain spirits, which are male, to coax the earth, which is female, to produce a bounteous crop. It was a very practical belief system." His shoulder nudged hers lightly. "You'd have liked it. Maybe you were Incan in a previous life."

Her shoulder nudged his in return. "I don't know--I haven't seen any bathtubs--" Startled, he turned to look at her, but her attention was fixed on the guidepadd display and all he could see was her profile.

"I think there are baths here somewhere--" She had drawn away from him, and he had to lean over to study the map of the city she had called up on the padd. "There they are. You can make a pilgrimage."

"Maybe later," she said, and stood abruptly, alarming an alpaca grazing on an adjacent terrace. "Right now I'm hungry. Care to make a pilgrimage to the replicator bank?"

"Willingly. I've got sandwiches and apples, too, if you'd rather have those." He indicated the satchel he'd brought from the aircar.

"I see you're prepared for the wilderness--your father would be proud."

His lips pursed in amusement. "You thought we were roughing it on New Earth, too. Someday I'm going to take you to a real wilderness."

Her grin was as impertinent as her retort. "I'll bring the matches."

"Hey, it was the wood--remember? On the other hand, it's always wise to be prepared. You might end up bald after all if we had to use your hair for kindling very often."

Theirs was a late lunch, and so they had the picnic area almost to themselves. Chakotay began to pull vacuum bags and utensils out of his satchel. "My replicator is better than their replicators--I guarantee it. What'll it be--cheese and tomato or roasted vegetable?"

"Cheese and tomato." He handed her a sandwich bag and a napkin. "You're in a good mood."

"Must be the company I'm keeping." Her hair was in casual disarray, her clothes rumpled and grass-stained, and a spot of dirt adorned her chin. She was lovely. New Earth was very much in his thoughts, and for once he didn't try to make it go away. "It's nice to see you so relaxed."

"It's nice to feel so relaxed. This is delicious--there's nothing like simple, hearty food after a day of exercise. I said you're too good to me." He smiled at her, and she thought how beautiful he was--in looks, yes, but more important, in the lively spirit that drew her, the serenity that soothed her, the sparkling humor that stimulated her. She wished there was devilment in his smile now, to keep her from thinking too much of New Earth, and bathtubs big enough for two, and how much she was enjoying being with him again. If only-- "How far in advance did you have to plan this excursion?"

"Actually I made the reservations months ago, for Tessa and me. I'd forgotten about them until a confirmation message came last week." It seemed to him that there was a determined nonchalance in the way she nodded her comprehension and proceeded to cut her apple, and he was suddenly awash in regret without quite knowing why. "I should have mentioned that. I'm sorry."

She waved an apple wedge dismissively. "No reason to--I don't need to know the life history of a friend's spare tickets. I'm just glad to be the beneficiary." To him her breezy tone sounded the slightest bit forced.

He pulled his own sandwich from its vacuum bag. "If you hadn't been able to come I was going to give the places to Seven and Reg. How's that for irony?"

This time her smile was genuine and appreciative, and he decided her earlier vague tension had existed only in his imagination.

When they had finished lunch they hiked the steep trail up adjacent Huayna Picchu for a stunning view of the city itself and the Urubamba river and canyon far below. From here one could see the ring of partly camouflaged force-field generators that stabilized the slope, eliminating the danger of landslide that had worried geologists and engineers for centuries. Afterward they made another slow circuit of the city, then found a spot on the outskirts from which to watch the sunset through the ever-shifting clouds. With the waning of the day the crowds had thinned, and the soft tread of the alpaca and llamas could be heard as they mounted the steps or meandered through the streets.

Janeway sat with her arms wrapped around her drawn-up legs, her chin propped on her knees. From his seat a little in back of her, Chakotay allowed his gaze to rest upon her slight but strong figure, the glow of her hair, the golden luminescence along the edge of her forehead, nose, and chin. Now and then on the climb up Huayna Picchu he had taken her hand, her deceptively delicate hand, to assist her up a particularly steep stair; he had wanted very much to keep hold, wanted to interweave his fingers with hers as he had done once, only once, before. He remembered the moment--of connection?--on the shuttle station walkway, and the moment of electric--for him--physical contact in Amaru's office. It had been years since she had affected him this way, years since he had thought of her as a woman first and his captain second. The shadows deepened and moved and the rays of the sun played a symphony of color on the vast mountain slopes and the banks of descending cloud. She watched it all in quiet absorption, on her face a blissful smile, and he felt his heart respond to her joy.

She turned to him with tears in her eyes. "Thank you for this," she said, and briefly clasped his hand. Without his conscious direction, his fingers were fitting themselves to hers when hers slipped away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Spending so much of our lives amid the beauties of space," Janeway observed, "I think we sometimes forget how much beauty can be found between earth and sky. And how many fascinating places can be found at home." Back in the aircar, they removed their jackets and prepared for departure. They were reluctant to go, but Ritanay would be making dinner, and after a day of ceaseless activity they were ready for it. "That was--" She searched for an adequate superlative. "--awe-inspiring."

"Yes, it was," Chakotay replied with a smile. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

The last traces of gold and aquamarine and rose had disappeared from the sky, and gray twilight was rapidly deepening to night. After running the checklist, he fired up the engines and lifted off into the oncoming darkness, while Janeway, taking advantage of being chauffeured, grabbed a brush from her satchel and set about making herself presentable.

"You're letting your hair grow out again," he remarked. "I always liked it long."

Without warning a memory swept through her--warm hands lifting her hair away from her neck, fingers caressing hers, the sensual pressure as those hands worked tension from her sore muscles and inadvertently added more-- She knew this frisson of attraction well. She had fought it for years and had finally vanquished it--or so she'd thought. It had, apparently, been only sleeping, waiting for the right combination of circumstances to spring back into life and set her pulse racing if he came within ten feet of her--

"Kathryn?"

Dear God, she'd been staring at him, with heaven knew what expression on her face. And she couldn't blame her breathlessness on the altitude; her dose of triox would not wear off for another two or three hours. If she wasn't careful she'd find herself on the receiving end of the same sympathy she had once doled out to him, doled out, that is, until he had no longer needed it, having found a different sort of sympathy with others. It was one of the cruel jests of the universe that the same circumstances that had thrown them into each other's lives and fostered affection and desire were also the circumstances that had kept them apart. I can't sacrifice the present waiting for a future that may never happen, he had said. Well, she had. She had resisted the impulse to build something with him on New Earth--though her restraint had in the end been fortunate; what torment a return to Voyager would have been if they had already crossed a threshold. And once they had survived the difficult period after their rescue, they had built something even more rare than love, had forged a friendship of uncommon depth and satisfaction. She had turned to others, too, and there was no changing that history, no matter that a part of her now looked back with longing for what might have been, now insisted on confusing that rare friendship with--something else. But if she could move past those feelings once she could do it again--and she would have his help this time, too, in the casual way he could speak of New Earth, in the very ease with which he could utter a comment that once would have taken his breath away as well as hers.

Brightly she said, "I suppose I was just ready for another change--but obviously I should have waited until after this little outing." She sprayed on more detangler. "So when are you going to grow a ponytail like in the Doctor's holonovel?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had hardly stepped into the house before Cusi and Manco pulled Chakotay into the study to show off their projects and ask his advice on a few specifics; as their respective topics were the uses of sensors at archaeological sites and possible modifications to helm design, he was clearly the most qualified consultant present.

"Neither of our children is interested in growing things," Ritanay said in mock lament. "Where did we go wrong?"

Janeway laughed and followed her into the kitchen. "I'll be happy to help, but I should warn you that I can disable a food replicator just by looking at it."

Ritanay laughed. "You sound like Amaru's mother. Is it safe to let you set the table? The kids usually do it but I won't take them away from their work tonight."

"With basic utensils I can be trusted." Janeway gathered up the pile of silverware and napkins on the counter. "Chakotay obviously enjoys his niece and nephew very much, and they obviously think the world of him."

"He was a little nervous about getting to know them again, but they've all become good friends. Thank you so much for bringing him home." Janeway smiled, touched by her heartfelt sentiment, and Ritanay paused a moment with a serving dish in her hands. "The worst time, oddly enough, was just after we found out he was alive. He and I had lost our parents, and then I'd lost my brother. It was a hard few years-- And then to learn he was alive but be unable to contact him, to see him or hear his voice-- It was awful, knowing you were alone out there. I didn't get the news in time to write to him in that first data stream through the relay."

"Neither did my family, or most of my friends. That was both a joyful and a heartbreaking time for everyone on Voyager, too."

"I can imagine. No--I can't begin to imagine it. You know, Chakotay never talks about the fear, the dangers, the losses--he only talks about the good times. But then he tends to live in the moment, and not to dwell on grief."

"Yes, he does," Janeway murmured, but Ritanay did not hear.

"He can go on for hours about all your discoveries, the species you encountered, the fun you had aboard ship--Talent Night, Dr. Chaotica and Queen Arachnia--"

"He told you about that? He and I are going to have a very serious talk."

"He is shameless, isn't he?" Ritanay's eyes filled with unself-conscious tears. "It's wonderful beyond words to have him home."

But in bringing him home I've lost him. Janeway moved away to finish setting the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was past midnight when Chakotay strolled with her to the shuttle station, through the sea mist that provided Peru's desert coast with what little annual moisture it received. Before today, she might have linked her arm with his in a friendly fashion, but now she walked with both hands loosely grasping the shoulder strap of her satchel. "I've so enjoyed meeting your family. I'll have to return the favor next year. I loved hearing stories of your boyhood from someone who knew you when."

"The more humiliating they were, the better you liked them. Don't deny it--I could tell."

"You'll get your reward--my sister can tell a few about me. And if I ever get past the idiot level of replicator expertise, I'm going to get Ritanay's recipes. Was the coffee ice cream really a family tradition?"

"No--that was a special request just for you. But the papaya sorbet was my mother's favorite."

"That was delicious, too. I hope I left you enough--" She had been sampling enthusiastically from his bowl as well.

It was the longest time she had spent in his company since New Earth, and the most disconcerting. She hated to feel even a hint of strain creeping into their friendship, hated that she could not be as natural and unaffected with him as he was with her. Next time-- By the time another year had passed, however--a year of routine conversation over comm links that did not transmit the warmth of his arm brushing hers or the nudge of his hip or thigh as he walked close beside her, the faint caress of his breath from a sigh or laugh or a teasing comment in her ear--surely by then she would have regained her composure. On the other hand, how long would it be before conversation with him felt routine again?

They joined the little clusters of people saying their good-byes on the boarding platform. The mist was heavier now and they stood under an overhang. "I hope you have a different pilot going back," he said.

"That would be nice. Maybe I should have made an offering to the mountain gods!" The lights gleamed off the droplets in his hair, off a trickle of moisture running down his neck beneath the collar of his shirt. "This has been--an exhilarating day. Thank you."

"Thanks for sharing it with me. Can we get together again before the end of the week?"

"I wish I could, but I'll only be in town tomorrow--then I'm spending the rest of my leave with my mother." Not long ago she might have issued a spontaneous invitation to come with her to Bloomington, but just now spontaneity with him was quite out of the question.

"I see." He gave a little laugh of resigned disappointment. "I should have stayed on as your first officer--at least I'd get to see you."

Well, she thought, and that's that. She felt as if a decision had been unexpectedly taken out of her hands before she was even certain whether it was hers to make. If Chakotay wanted their relationship to proceed beyond friendship he would hardly have spoken so wistfully of the very situation that had made it impossible. She was surprised by the strength of the relief she felt, surprised still more by the acuteness of the pain.

"Kathryn?"

She jumped. She'd been staring at him again.

He frowned, and took a step forward. "Kathryn--" He came so near that his chest brushed her hands where they clutched the satchel strap as if it were a lifeline.

The boarding signal sounded, and she realized that of course he would expect a farewell embrace. She set down the satchel and stepped into his arms. On her part it was rather rushed and perfunctory, and she could see when she pulled away that he had felt the difference and was puzzled by it. "Take care, Chakotay," she said softly, and laid her palm against his cheek.

That gesture he understood, and he kept hold of her hand until she began to move away. "I'll call you on Friday when I get back into town. Maybe you'll have a few minutes for coffee before you ship out."

"Yes, please do."

They had talked the whole day, yet when the doors closed behind her and the shuttle lifted off and disappeared into the mist, he could think only that too much had been left unsaid.

********************

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