Kathryn Janeway shifted uncomfortably in her chair. A light twinge of pain shot through her abdomen, then was gone. Damn. She wriggled once more, curving her foot under her in an attempt to get settled. The coffee she had ordered once arriving in the mess hall sat untouched on a nearby table as she attempted to appease her injury and the rest of her body at the same time. But the booted kick to her midsection during yesterday's Kazon assassin attack refused to cooperate. It continued to assert itself in occasional spasms and dull aches. If it persisted much longer, she would have to pay a visit to the doctor, a duty she did not relish.
Her only consolation to the pain was that the assassin had obligingly committed suicide after his capture aboard Voyager. She supposed he had decided that death was preferable to going back to his superiors after failing in his mission to infiltrate and kill the captain of the alien vessel. Perhaps he had been correct in his ideology - the Kazon were not a merciful race, not even with their own people. Death at his own hand was probably far more lenient than anything the Kazon might have devised for him.
She recalled the look of hate in the Kazon's eyes when he first rushed into his attack. Though she had managed to hold him off for the few moments just prior to the security team's arrival, that kick to her stomach signaled the opening he had worked for. Flat on her back in the narrow corridor, alone, dazed, the wind knocked out of her, she had presented an easy target. A precision shot from a security phaser was the only thing that had saved her life. The shot barely stunned the zealous Kazon, yet gave Lieutenant Tuvok and his team time to form a phalanx of protection between her and her attacker. She had recovered in time to see the young man hauled roughly towards the brig and to hear his ugly epithets echo down the corridor.
While resting after the attack, she and Tuvok had uncovered the plot from its inception. The Kazon was a simple stow away who hid on board during a routine repair stop at a docking station near Caligra III. The fact that the ship's sensors had not detected the intruder until he revealed himself a week later had caused them serious concern. But Mr. Kim explained how the Kazon had fooled the best sensors available in the Federation; once aboard the ship, the assassin had gone into a state of suspended stasis, his body signatures slowing to almost nonexistent rates. And since they weren't looking for reduced Kazon life signs, he had gone undetected until automatically roused by a prearranged signal to his brain.
It was unnerving to be so swiftly and efficiently attacked on one's own ship, she observed with a suppressed shudder. One moment she was walking confidently down an empty corridor on her way to her quarters, the next she was face to face with a snarling Kazon intent on killing her. The attack and its near success had rattled her more than she was willing to admit to herself or the crew. Though she was still outwardly in command of her environment, inside she felt discouragingly vulnerable and insecure.
However, she refused to withdraw into herself liked a scared rabbit. She would not give the Kazon even that much satisfaction. She was captain of Voyager, and it would take more than a paltry assassin to make her tuck her tail in and hide.
With that admonition firmly in mind, she wriggled a bit more in her chair until she was relatively comfortable. Then she carefully lifted her coffee from the table and took a few experimental sips. Even after all this time spent wandering in alien territory, she was never quite sure how Neelix's coffee would turn out.
The door of the mess hall swooshed aside and she saw Lieutenant Tuvok and Commander Chakotay enter, then scan the room. Both pairs of eyes rested on her, and they turned in her direction.
"Captain," Tuvok greeted soberly.
"Lieutenant," she said in return.
"The security routines have been altered to your earlier specifications. In the future, there will be detailed scans of all life signs when leaving a space dock of any kind. In addition, I personally calibrated the sensor relays to pick up on Kazon and Vidiian signatures and give an immediate intruder alert upon discovery."
Janeway nodded over her coffee cup. "Very good, Lieutenant. I'll feel better knowing that it won't be so easy for an assassin to target any of Voyager's crew in the future." Her tone conveyed her threat to her officers. Though she acknowledged that the attack was hardly Tuvok's fault, the fact that it had happened, and happened with relative ease, did not please her at all.
"Such an occurrence will not happen again, Captain," Tuvok promised in his most mild manner. His placid demeanor was a well tested method in handling the captain's moments of severe reproach. He realized it often irritated her further, but it also shortened her anger by a full minute at least. He preferred her irritation over her anger in any occasion.
"See that it doesn't," she suggested, galled by the Vulcan's maddening calm. Another pain shot through her stomach as she spoke, making it difficult for her to restrain the edginess she felt. She attempted to control her tone when she turned to Chakotay and asked, "Did you find out any more information about our assassin?"
Chakotay frowned and quietly deliberated his answer before he said, "I'm not sure he was an assassin."
Janeway's eyes widened. The coffee cup went still in her hand. "That's certainly how he appeared to me."
Chakotay settled himself firmly on his feet in a subtly defensive posture. "He was very young, Captain. Almost too young."
"Meaning?" she prompted.
"I think you were his naming assignment."
"Ah," Tuvok interrupted in interest. "Just as the commander was for the young man named Jal Kardan."
The commander nodded. "Exactly. I believe he was sent to kill you, Captain, in order to earn his name. It fits the characteristics of that particular ceremony, and his extreme youth also points to that conclusion. I wouldn't say that he was more than thirteen or fourteen. He had hardly started growing a beard."
Janeway allowed herself a sarcastic expression. "His fighting showed more experience than a mere youth's."
Chakotay shrugged one shoulder in agreement. "The Kazon train for combat practically from birth, Captain. His skill is to be expected. However, a more mature Kazon would not have yelled such juvenile threats while being escorted to the brig."
Janeway perked in an unexpected and morbid interest. "I heard the threats, but I couldn't make them out." She took another sip, trying to disguise her interest with nonchalance. "What did he say?" she inquired lazily.
Tuvok cast his eyes to the ceiling, striking a reciting pose. "Something about how he wished your mother to rot and die right where she stood at that moment; how he wanted to take on your brothers at the earliest opportunity; and if those brothers would not fight him, then his brothers would certainly be willing to uphold the Kazon honor; that Alpha Quadrant species were stupid - and I quote, Captain - weinie butts who would rather hide behind others than fight the true fight. Shall I go on?"
"No, I think I get the point, Mr. Tuvok." She took another sip of her drink, this time to hide her amusement. Why did Tuvok always have to be so literal? But Chakotay's theory explained the Kazon's profound hate for her, at least. It must have been very frustrating for one so young to have his life's goal hide behind a convenient security force, to be so close to the kill and thwarted at the last minute. Still, that didn't make her feel much sympathy for him. She continued, "Well, this naming theory has more merit than any I've come up with so far, Commander. It's a pity he felt he had to commit suicide. I would have preferred sending him back to his people."
"His people would have shunned him. He knew that. For him, suicide was a far worthier end than becoming a non-person," Chakotay explained.
The captain understood his defense of the youngster's choice to end his life; Chakotay had more knowledge and understanding of the Kazon culture than any other person on the ship. But sending the young man back would have been more satisfactory to her inbred sense of revenge. And he could have served a double purpose in symbolizing how attacks on her ship were not to be undertaken lightly, if at all, without expecting the harshest punishments. Of course, the Kazon were unlikely to understand such refined advertisement of strength, especially coming from a female captain. Oh, there were times when she truly missed the Alpha Quadrant's more civilized attitudes towards fellow creatures, no matter the gender.
She brought her attention back to her officers. "Very well. I think we should forget this occurrence except as a lesson not to be so overconfident of our own infallibility in the future. We must always keep in mind that we're intruders in fairly hostile space. We were taken by surprise this time, and we were lucky no one was killed. I don't want this to happen again."
"It won't," Tuvok repeated, equally as solemn as before.
"I know." She nodded, suddenly wanting to end this unsettling subject and move on to something more routine, and thus, safer. "What's the status of the ship?"
Chakotay relaxed his stance a little, knowing that the hardest part of this interview was over. If Captain Janeway was going to be more severe about the breached security measures, it would have manifested itself by now. "The crew is still a bit shaken, which is understandable, and several people have offered their services as your bodyguard, including Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres."
Janeway choked on her coffee. "My bodyguard?" she asked in incredulous amusement. That was something she hadn't expected.
"I assume you don't find constant security necessary?" he asked blandly.
She smiled. "Hardly, though I appreciate their concern. But I doubt that such a life-threatening event could happen to the same person more than once."
The commander nodded, a hint of a smile lifting the corners of his lips. "The odds are certainly against it. We're still on course for home, with a planned detour stop at the nebula the Caligrans told us about to collect gas samples for B'Elanna's photon torpedo experiment. Our ETA is approximately one hour."
Janeway glanced at both Tuvok and Chakotay. "Do you really think she has a chance at making our own torpedoes? I'm not sure if I completely understand her ideas or if I simply want them to work; having the ability to replace our weapons will give us an undeniable boost as a force to be reckoned with in this quadrant."
Tuvok cocked an eyebrow. "I see no reason why she should not be successful. Her theories are sound and based on scientific fact. And she is most persistent, Captain."
The smile that had been hiding finally materialized on the commander's lips. "If anybody can do it, Torres can."
Janeway had to agree to that. B'Elanna was one of the most tenacious members of the crew. "Tell the helm to remain on course, and contact me when we reach the nebula."
"Aye, Captain." Chakotay turned away, and Tuvok followed. But the commander paused.
"Is there something more, Commander?" Captain Janeway asked.
He hesitated while Tuvok patiently waited beside him. "No. Just that...I think - um, how is your stomach doing?" He tried to hide his grimace at the bluntness of his words. His concern for his captain had made him speak without thinking first, and naturally Tuvok was present to witness it. Though his concerns were undeniable, and he always thought of Janeway as someone who would credit such feelings, he admitted that he chose poor moments to reveal them. In short, he was just determined to make himself into an idiot when Kathryn Janeway was the subject of his anxiety.
Janeway passed a hand over her mouth to hide the smile she was trying to repress. He is such an intriguing man, she thought. She didn't know what she would do without him. She licked her lips to give her more time to regain her composure. "It's better, thank you, Commander. I hardly know I was injured." As if her body knew she was lying, another minor spasm erupted, but she held on to her expression of complete unconcern. Chakotay was the most sympathetic man on the ship, but she was stubbornly determined not to let him see her pain. At this point, it was a matter of pride.
Chakotay looked at her, but could discern nothing beyond her words. "I'm glad," he said simply, then turned away again with a nod goodbye. He and Tuvok left to return to the Bridge, leaving the captain to think about the recent exchange.
She was alone with her thoughts barely five minutes before another crewmember appeared beside her.
"Hello, Captain!" Mr. Paris stopped next to her chair to smile exuberantly down at her. "How are you feeling tonight?"
Kathryn managed to smile back at him. "Almost back to normal, thank you, Mr. Paris." She couldn't keep herself from grinning wider and saying, "I hear you volunteered for bodyguard duty."
Paris grinned back. "That's me, Tom Paris, bodyguard extraordinaire. But Commander Chakotay thought I was being premature in my offer."
Premature. That's a word that Chakotay would use, she decided. Aloud she said, "And all this time I thought that as captain I was the one guarding you. However, the commander is right; I'm as fit as ever." But then she winced.
She hadn't taken into account that very little slipped passed Tom Paris' keen observations. He seated himself on the tiny table near her chair to look at her closely. "Are you all right?"
She made one last effort to disguise her situation. "I'm fine," she insisted and sipped calmly at her coffee.
"You can't fool me, you know," Tom stated flatly. "I spent months living with the Federation's best liars. I've also seen enough of your good days to know that this isn't one of them. Does it hurt?"
At last Janeway capitulated. She frowned. "I'm sure it's just a bruise that will go away in time."
"Feels much worse, doesn't it?"
She reluctantly agreed. "It does, Mr. Paris."
He grinned. "I've been in your shoes more times than I care to admit, Captain. Living in that penal colony wasn't all the cozy walks through the park that the visitors saw. We had fights all the time, and my stomach got the boot as often as necessary for me to learn to lay low and keep out of trouble."
"Sounds like quite an adventure," she said dryly.
He chuckled. "Oh, it was, believe me. Almost as good as the Delta Quadrant, but not quite."
"I'm glad to hear that."
He patted her knee in a familiar overture of sympathy. "Don't worry, Captain, you're right; it'll pass. And when it does, your stomach will be that much more prepared the next time some idiot Kazon decides to stick his boot in it."
Janeway stared at the young officer in disbelief at his casual address to the captain of the ship. "Mr. Paris, I can't begin to explain how delighted I am to hear that."
He let his laughter ring out this time. "I knew you would be." He stood and straightened his uniform. "My advice is to get some rest. Everything heals faster if you take care of yourself."
She could hardly deny the quality of that statement. "As you say, Mr. Paris. I think I'll call it a day."
"Take it easy, Captain," he said in leu of a formal good night.
"Good night, Tom." She watched the tall officer walk away to join other crewmembers at the far side of the room. His comforting pat on her knee came to mind, and she smiled, marveling at how easily he overcame the conventional barriers between captain and crew to give advice about recovering from brawls. It was downright amusing when she thought about it.
But the pain she was experiencing was far from amusing. Suddenly she felt tired, exhausted from the pain and worn by her driving need to hide it. She decided that nothing could possibly feel better than to lay down on her bed and drift off to sleep.
She rose and had a small sense of victory when no discomfort accompanied the movement. It took only a moment to deposit her dirty coffee cup in the receptacle and make her way to the turbolift.
"Deck eight," she ordered. Then she leaned against the wall of the empty lift, too tired to support herself any longer. She chose to retain the pretext of health around the crew, but when she was alone the sham took more energy than it was worth. And as Tom said, she wasn't fooling anybody anyway.
Sleep would help. She walked slowly down the corridor, pleased that she wasn't afraid to be alone any longer, and actively looked forward to falling into bed. With a satisfied sigh, Kathryn touched a hand to the lock outside her quarters. The computer accepted her command and the door obediently slid aside. She entered. The door slid shut.
"Lights," she requested, turning towards her bedroom before the computer had time to comply. She lifted a hand to remove the pips from her collar as dim light illuminated the room.
Her hand paused in surprise as she entered the bedroom. Somebody stood in the center of the room. A moment of shock passed before her brain could acknowledge the fact that she was staring at an exact duplicate of herself.
"I've been waiting for you," the other woman said.