A House Divided
By Ralkana

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The Letter. Screenshot by Janet.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

The messhall was strangely silent for being as crowded as it was. Instead of the large, jovial groups that usually existed, people were eating alone, or at the most in pairs. The tension on Voyager was high following the encounter with the Hirogen, not to mention the mixed blessing of letters from home. It had been three days, but the crew was still coming to terms with everything they’d learned.

Good news had been unfortunately rarer than bad. For every padd telling of a family doing well or continuing to hope for the return of a loved one, there were three telling of a spouse that had moved on or informing the recipient of a death in the family. Knowledge of Chakotay’s letter from Sveta reporting the slaughter of the Maquis had circulated the ship. People were still in shock at the news – both the Maquis and the ‘fleeters who had grown close to them. Many of the Maquis were working through the information in their own way, and some were unconsciously pushing away their Starfleet colleagues and friends, seeing them as symbols of the world they felt had betrayed their compatriots in the alpha quadrant.

Crewman Srisai was trying to ignore the whispered conversation at the table next to him, focusing on Neelix’ latest concoction. Unfortunately, his brain rebelled against concentrating on what he was shoveling into his stomach, and his attention was again drawn to Ensign Baytart’s sarcastic comments about the food. Finally, he’d had enough. He threw down his fork.

"You know," he said loudly, startling everyone around him, "If your damned captain hadn’t cared so much about her precious Starfleet regulations, we wouldn’t be stuck here in this quadrant, eating this crap. So stop your damn whining!"

Baytart’s eyes widened and he carefully set down his fork. "What are you talking about?"

"That bitch on the bridge! All she cares about are her friggin’ rules and regulations! Making sure this ship conforms exactly to Starfleet’s wishes! Can’t pass up any chances for exploration either, that’s the Starfleet way! Never mind the fact that we’re sixty fucking years from home! Well some of us aren’t Starfleet, and we’re sick of pretending that we are! If we were running the ship, we’d be home by now!"

One of Srisai’s friends heard the commotion and hurried over to him. "Tevar, calm down, okay? This isn’t – "

Srisai whirled on the man. "What do you care, Ferran? You’re ‘fleet, just like her! You’re all the same! Mindless little rule-followers, just like your captain, can’t think outside of your little Starfleet box. Thanks to her, we’re all fucking stuck here! Useless."

Ferran’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped back. "My captain?! What about you and all your little friends? What about your captain? If he hadn’t been a spineless traitor, we wouldn’t have had to chase your asses into the Badlands!"

"Well that doesn’t really matter now, does it, because Ice Queen Janeway has him wrapped so tightly around her little finger that all he can do is nod and smile at her! A goddamn lap dog, that's all he is now!"

"Well, he’s still a damn traitor. If not for him and all you worthless Maquis, I’d be at home with my wife and kids – "

"At least they’re alive! Everyone I love is dead!"

Ferran snorted, lost in his own pain, remembering his wife’s halting narrative of her remarriage and the adoption of his children by her new husband. "Maybe you should be grateful."

Srisai tensed. "Grateful?! You bastard!"

No one was sure who threw the first punch, but soon the two men were on the deck, hitting and grabbing at each other mindlessly. The other crew gathered to watch listlessly, but nobody said a word.

Suddenly there was a low, deep growl of "What the hell is going on here?"

When no one answered, Voyager’s first officer pushed through the crowd to reach the two combatants. Chakotay yanked Srisai off of Ferran, but not before Ferran landed a blow on the intervener’s nose. The commander winced and removed one hand from the struggling crewman to wipe at the blood now trickling from his nose. Without another word to either of them, he slapped his combadge.

"Security teams to the mess hall."

At that, both fighters stopped struggling, freezing in place. As the doors slid open and several Security teams strode in, Chakotay turned to them again.

"At this point, I don’t care what happened here. You will explain later. Right now, you can both cool yourselves off in the brig. This is the mess hall of a starship, not an elementary school playground."

He whirled to face the silent audience watching Security lead the miscreants away. "And as for all of you, either get back to your food, or get back to work, before I put you all on report for not notifying Security or a senior officer."

His voice remained soft, but not one crewmember had any doubt that he meant every word. There was suddenly a silent scramble to find other things to pay attention to. Chakotay gave one last glare around the room in general before he turned on his heel and stalked out.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn Janeway stood lost in thought in front of the ready room viewport, with one arm crossed before her and the other hand tucked under her chin. She half-turned to glance at the untidy heap of padds on her desk, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to return to her work. Her mind was a jumble of faces: Mark’s, her mother’s, her sister’s, the grim visage of a Hirogen hunter, and so many of her crew – a few of the latter were ecstatic, many more were heartbroken. No matter what their emotional state, they were all there because of her. She’d stranded them here in this hellhole of a quadrant, so far from their homes and families.

Her door chimed before she could sink any further into the familiar spiral of guilt. "Come in," she called absently, not really paying attention.

Chakotay strode in, halting at the sight of his captain contemplating the stars. He stood at parade rest, just watching her for several moments. He felt warmth on his upper lip again and reached up to swipe at the oozing blood, and the movement drew Kathryn out of her reverie. She turned toward him somewhat dreamily, jumping and snapping out of it when she saw what he was doing.

"Chakotay! What happened?"

He shrugged, frowning. "Got into the middle of a fistfight in the mess hall."

She gasped. "A fight? Who was fighting? And about what?"

"Srisai and Ferran, and I don’t know what they were fighting about. I sent them both to the brig to cool off."

She frowned as she accessed her mental crew roster. "Srisai and Ferran? I thought they were good friends!"

Chakotay shrugged again. "I thought so too. I’m sure Tuvok’s questioning them as we speak." He sat back down in the chair in front of her desk, which he had been occupying before his ill-fated trip to the mess hall. Kathryn watched bemusedly as he picked up a padd and zeroed in on it, focusing all of his attention on the small screen. Despite her anxiety, she smiled. Chakotay never studied a padd that intently unless he was trying to avoid thinking of something else. He was definitely distracted.

"I take it you were too busy playing referee to pick up lunch," she said eventually.

"Hmm?" He raised his head slowly, as if he was surfacing from underwater. Awareness dawned on his face as her words penetrated his brain, and then he looked contrite. "Oh. I’m sorry, Kathryn. I completely forgot about lunch."

He moved as if to rise, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Never mind, Chakotay. It’s all right. We’ll replicate something. I don’t think I’m in the mood for Neelix’ fare after all," she said with a smile as she headed for the replicator. He returned the smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and she bit back a sigh. Chakotay had been growing more and more distant over the past couple of days, and she knew it was because he was coming to terms with the terrible news his letter had contained. He hadn’t talked to her about it at all, though of course she knew the gist of it – everyone on the ship knew what Chakotay’s letter said.

She watched him toy with his food; his normally robust appetite was gone. "Go," she said, and he looked up in that maddeningly slow way again. "Go," she repeated. "Find out what they were fighting about… I know it’s a part of what's distracting you."

He shifted in his chair. "I’m sure Tuvok’s got it under control."

"Then go talk to them as the ship’s counselor," she said, and when he briefly closed his eyes, she realized he’d probably been acting in that capacity a lot in the previous couple of days. "We have a morale crisis on this ship, Chakotay, and if this has any connection to it, we need to know everything about it." As he nodded and stood to go, she added with a grin, "I bet it was about a woman."

He smiled, and it was almost a genuine smile. "Some things are worth fighting for," he said softly, and then he was gone. Kathryn shook her head ruefully and tried to concentrate on the stack of padds in front of her.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

As she lay in bed that night, Kathryn sighed irritably as images of home and family again intruded on her thoughts. With effort, she focused her mind on what she’d learned from Tuvok, as well as what Chakotay had reported to her after his visit to the brig.

It had been a fight between Maquis and Starfleet—that was all her first officer would say. She’d grown upset; they hadn’t had one of those fights in quite a while. When she’d pressed him for details, he’d steadfastly refused to tell her what had been said. She could have made it an order, but they both knew she would read every detail in Tuvok’s report, so she hadn’t pushed him.

When she’d later read Tuvok’s report, she’d realized instantly why Chakotay didn’t want to tell her anything. He didn’t want her to agree with Srisai’s comments, to feel even guiltier for stranding them all so far away from home. She’d smiled sadly, shaken her head, and thought, Thank you, Chakotay, but I don’t need that kind of protection. I know what they think, and they're right. I think the same things.

Tuvok had recommended a short stay in the brig for Srisai and Ferran, reporting that both combatants still showed evidence of hostility toward the other. After his visit, Chakotay had disagreed, suggesting they both be confined to quarters instead. When Janeway had called him on his suggestion, he’d told her how his attempts to gently question one and then the other had resulted in the two men hurling insults at each other from across the brig. She’d agreed, and Srisai and Ferran had been locked down in their quarters until further notice.

Kathryn tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Please, she thought to nobody in particular, please let this all resolve itself soon. I don’t know how much more of this we can take.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Five days later, the situation had definitely not resolved itself. It had, in fact, escalated. Tempers were running rampant on the ship, flaring at the slightest provocation, and the tension was nearly a tangible entity. Kathryn was sitting behind her desk in the ready room, watching Chakotay's face as he reviewed Tuvok's latest security report, which she had already read. Eventually, he looked up, raising an eyebrow at what he'd read.

"Thirteen verbal arguments and five physical confrontations in the past twenty-four hours. Twenty-six crewmembers late for duty shifts, and an increase in allegedly holodeck-related injuries. All numbers show a marked increase from the same statistics for the previous twenty-four hours," he read back to her, and she sighed.

"I know. What do we do, Chakotay?"

He fiddled with the padd while he thought. "I don't know what we can do, Kathryn. The crewmembers participating in shouting matches are being put on report. Those involved in fistfights are being confined to quarters. There's always the brig, but – "

"The brig can’t hold everyone, Chakotay. If this keeps up, we won’t have enough crew to effectively run this ship. What is going on?!"

Chakotay sighed. "It’s not that difficult, Kathryn. We’ve just been through a violent exchange with yet another new enemy. We’ve heard from home for the first time in four years, but the prospect of constant – or at least regular – communication with home was ripped away from us. In addition, nearly all of the crew received bad news of some kind or another." He dropped his eyes. "Some of the news was devastating. It’s a lot to take in. But that doesn’t excuse this behavior."

The captain sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. Chakotay stared at the padd, which held pages and pages of text, and gave a sardonic little chuckle.

"Well, you can say one thing for Tuvok. He's thorough. Not one statistic left unturned." He frowned. "I'm surprised he didn't include how many fights were started by Maquis and how many were started by Starfleet."

It was her turn to frown. "Why would he include that?"

Before she could further question the importance of such a statistic, Chakotay snorted. "You're right. He probably just didn’t bother to check because he believes that we started them all."

We? "Chakotay!"

He stood abruptly and moved to stand before the viewports. "Please, Kathryn. He’s never trusted us."

Us? "Chakotay, that’s not true! He made Ayala his immediate subordinate, didn’t he?"

"Probably just to keep a closer eye on him."

Kathryn drew herself up to argue with him, and then she got a really good look at him. Though he was facing away from her, she could tell a lot about his emotional state just by the way he was standing. His normally broad, square shoulders were slumped, and his head was slightly bowed. She could almost see the tremendous weight that rested there. She placed a hand between his shoulder blades, and he stiffened a little before he slumped even more.

"Chakotay," she asked softly, "How many people have come to see you since this has all happened?"

He sighed. "I don’t know. Seventy? Seventy-five? Maybe even eighty?"

She closed her eyes. In eight days? While keeping up with your duty shifts too? Oh, how have you done it, Chakotay? Have you slept at all? Eaten? Now I know how you normally feel! "And who have you talked to? Who has helped you?"

He didn’t answer for a long time, and she sighed and nodded her head, though he couldn’t see her. Eventually, he said, "I... I tried to go on a vision quest, Kathryn. It... wasn’t successful." She closed her eyes again, hearing the pain in his voice. "It’s been so long since I’ve had trouble going on a quest, and I... I don’t know what to do."

Kathryn realized she was rubbing his back lightly, and she was astonished to feel him trembling under her hand. She had never seen him this close to losing his composure. She struggled with herself briefly, resisting the powerful urge to take him in her arms and comfort him. It was obviously something he needed, but she was unsure of what he would make of it, especially in light of her recent letter from Mark. She was afraid he would see it as something more than what she could give him, see it as a precursor to what she wanted most, but that was something she – they – couldn’t have out here.

With a flash of anger, she clenched her fists. Her friend – her best friend – needed a hug and that was something she could give him, something she needed to give him. She slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his back, whispering his name.

Chakotay shuddered once and then turned in her arms, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and crushing her in a tight bear hug. He was clinging to her like a lifeline, and she felt a rush of shame that she had almost denied him this, which was probably the first real comfort he’d had in a long while. He’d been one step away from falling apart, and she’d been worried that he’d take advantage of the moment; she felt a brief surge of self-loathing at that realization.

He was unconsciously rubbing his cheek in her hair, and she let him. Kathryn waited for the little voice to tell her to pull away from him, but it didn’t come. She needed this almost as much as he did; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hug, and it felt so good to connect with someone like that, especially Chakotay. She held him for quite a while, rubbing his back, not caring how much time was passing. She felt her scalp gradually grow warm and damp, and she realized he was crying, silently and without moving. Her eyes filled and spilled and she grieved with him, just as quietly, for everything and everyone they had all lost.

Slowly, he eased his grip on her, and she felt a pang at the loss of closeness. He turned from her but kept one arm around her shoulder – loosely, in case she wanted to pull away. She didn’t. They stared out at the stars in silence.

"Thank you," he said eventually, and his voice was soft and gravelly.

"Any time, Chakotay. I mean that," she murmured, and he bowed his head again. "Do you want to talk about it?" she added.

He shook his head. "Soon. I will soon, but not just yet – "

His combadge chirped. "Torres to Chakotay."

Chakotay hastily cleared his throat and swiped at his cheeks. "Chakotay here, B’Elanna. What’s up?"

"I think you should join me outside Holodeck Two, Chakotay."

He narrowed his eyes, instantly suspicious, and with that, Janeway grew suspicious as well. "Why?" he demanded. "What’s going on?"

B'Elanna hesitated, and Chakotay grew even more concerned; he realized she must know he was with the captain. Whatever was bothering her was something she didn’t want the captain to know, and that worried him greatly. "Now, Torres."

"A... a meeting."

The command team glanced at each other, alarmed.

"Stay here," Chakotay growled. "I’ll take care of this."

"Commander – "

"No. Stay here. Call Tuvok in here if you want to, but stay here, Kathryn, please."

He strode out of her ready room before she could answer.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chakotay paced the turbolift, trying not to growl in anger. This has to stop. Now.

When the doors opened, he stalked to the doors of the holodeck, where Ayala and B'Elanna were waiting for him, staring nervously at the doors.

"Report."

"There’s about thirty-five people in there, all Maquis," B'Elanna said. "Chell came to me and asked me if he could use my program. I didn’t know what he wanted it for – I still don’t." She gestured to the man beside her. "Mike called me and told me I’d better come down here, and when I did and saw who was in there, I decided to call you."

"Aya?"

"I’ve heard rumors about a meeting, but that’s all. A few people said to come in order to find out more, but I don’t think senior officers were invited," he said, glancing at both of them.

Chakotay headed for the doors, motioning for them to follow him. As the doors opened, all the conversations – some loud, some quiet, but all angry – stopped abruptly. He stared around in awe at the setting. It was the dark, dirty engine room of the Liberty, miraculously enlarged to fit everyone comfortably. He felt a brief twinge at the memories the program evoked, but his simmering anger was enough to push it away.

"It wasn’t this big before," B'Elanna murmured. "They must have modified my program. Without my permission. P’tahks!"

"That’s not important right now," Chakotay hissed. Louder, he said, "I’m sure you’ve all gathered here to pay your respects to our late friends." His eyes flicked around the room, and the unspoken part of his sentence registered with everyone. That had better be it, because if there is anything even remotely mutinous going on here I will personally escort each of you to the nearest airlock and kick your ass through it.

Srisai, who had been released from quarters the day before and had seemed a model crewmember since then, said with only a hint of sarcasm, "Why else would we be here, Captain?"

Chakotay stiffened, and those around Srisai edged away cautiously. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, B'Elanna would have laughed at the slowly widening circle.

"I am not your captain," Chakotay ground out, "And I don’t know why you’d be here other than that, but if that is your reason for your presence, you do our friends dishonor and disrespect by shirking your duty shifts to come here."

A few people shifted uneasily, and he went on. "Since you’re all here, anyone want to explain to me what the hell has been going on around here lately, because I’m getting very tired of it."

As the ensuing silence lengthened, several people realized that it was not a rhetorical question, and someone eventually spoke up.

"We just want to get home, Chakotay."

"And you figured the best way to do that was to neglect your duties on this ship?" He was met by sullen glares, and his patience snapped.

"Enough of this!" he snarled, and several people flinched. "The next person who threatens or fights another person on this ship will answer to me. In the boxing ring."

There were only two of his former crew that he might have problems with in the ring, and they were both standing behind him, supporting him. The other members of his former crew glanced at each other apprehensively. They had all learned on one occasion or another that Chakotay didn’t make threats lightly.

"We didn’t start them all," someone muttered.

Chakotay turned in that direction. "I’ll be sure that everyone on this ship knows of my warning, whether they wear pips or a rank bar."

"What about self-defense?"

"You are all trained fighters. You all know how to dispatch – temporarily – an enemy with one blow. If you defend yourselves, that’s what I expect to see. Got that?" There were a few nods, and he said in a tight voice, "I said, do you understand that?"

This time there was a muted chorus of "Yes, sir."

He shook his head irritably. "Our fight was never with Starfleet and the Federation, not in my cell, and you all know that. We fought the Cardassians, and there are no Cardassians aboard this ship."

"Not anymore."

Chakotay turned, eyes wide, to see several people staring in horror at Srisai. With tremendous effort, the commander managed to keep himself from pounding the man into the deck and went on.

"This ship and this crew... these people are not our enemies. They never have been, and over the past four years, they’ve become our friends, our family. And you’re lashing out at them. What good does that do? Has it occurred to any of you that most of them are hurting too? Very few people received good news."

Faces flushed and eyes were lowered as the truth of his words hit home, but Chakotay wasn’t finished.

"I know that you are all grieving not only the loss of friends, but also the end of our cause. I am too. Our cause was just, but – "

"Who says the cause is dead?" someone called. "We’re still here, and we would be even if every Maquis in the Alpha Quadrant was butchered."

"Our fight may not be dead but we cannot fight it from here. Fighting our own people – and they are our own people – will bring nothing but pain to all involved. Our friends and comrades are dead – "

"They’re not just dead, Chakotay! They were slaughtered!" Srisai shouted, and Chakotay opened his mouth to answer, but the younger man rolled right over him. "Slaughtered! Do you have any idea what it must have been like for them?!"

Chakotay moved, quick as a snake, bearing down on Srisai, who quit speaking but stared defiantly at his former captain. The bigger man kept moving forward, backing Srisai toward the wall as he answered, his voice growing quieter with every word.

"You’re asking me if I know what it’s like to see a people slaughtered?! The Cardassians massacred my homeworld, or did you forget that? My parents and siblings were murdered, my nieces raped, my nephews tortured for sport! When I went back, all that was left was ashes. Ashes! So don’t you tell me what I’m supposed to feel, you little prick!"

Srisai was now cringing against the wall, knowing that the velvet soft tone of the other man's voice boded disaster. Chakotay was no stranger to using his size as an implied threat, though it had been a while since he’d needed that particular skill. The others were watching warily, morbidly curious to see whether Chakotay would break his own no-fighting rule.

"Just what the hell is your problem, Tevar?" he hissed. "Look around you. Every single person in this room is hurting. You think your pain is somehow more important than theirs? They’re all struggling with this too, and yet, they’re not being insubordinate little bastards. You belittle their suffering—and mine—with your actions. Get the hell out of my sight."

Chakotay saw through the haze of his anger that his words were actually getting through to Srisai; the other man was beginning to look truly remorseful. As he slipped past Chakotay, the first officer laid a hand heavily on his shoulder.

"I don’t need to call a security team to escort you out of here, do I, Tevar? You aren’t going to do anything stupid?"

Srisai shook his head solemnly. "No, sir," he murmured, as he headed through the opening doors. The doors closed, and Chakotay turned back to the silent crowd.

"All right, I’ll make this brief. Many of you have duty shifts that you need to get back to. I’m not asking you to forget our friends or our fight, or to forget that you are Maquis. That is not something that anyone can forget; it is a part of who we all are, just as being Starfleet is part of who they are," he said, gesturing to the door.

"If you want to get together and reminisce about the past, by all means, do so; it’s not something that should ever be forgotten. I’m always available if you want to talk, but there are right ways and wrong ways to go about this. Meet in your quarters, in the messhall; hell, you can even meet in the holodecks, but not like this. Not with this level of subterfuge and definitely not while you’re on duty. This meeting disturbs me more than I can say.

"As for the Maquis cause, if you decide, when we get home, to take it up again, that’s your business. On this ship, what you do is my business, and I will not allow this to interfere with the safety of Voyager anymore. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

Chakotay sighed. "I know that it’s difficult right now to believe that everything we worked and fought so hard for back home is gone. But you can’t let that grief obliterate everything we have worked and fought so hard for over the past four years. We are just as much a part of Voyager as Captain Janeway and her original crew, as much as Neelix and, Spirits help us, Seven of Nine. We’re all we have out here. Don’t destroy us."

He glanced around, trying to catch the eye of each and every person present. He saw the same thoughtful, pensive look in these faces as he had seen in Srisai’s as he’d sent the man away. At least I’m getting through to them, he thought with relief. He hardened his features into the command mask he’d adopted on the Liberty and perfected on Voyager.

"This little meeting is over. If I ever hear of another of its kind taking place, it will not be me who shows up to stop it. It will be Tuvok and his teams. Only after you have dealt with them will you deal with me." Chakotay paused for a moment and then added, "Also, everyone here who has left or avoided a duty shift to attend this meeting is on report." There were a few startled glances and some mutters, and he asked sharply, "Is there a problem with that?"

"No, sir!"

"Good. I’m glad. Dismissed."

They filed out slowly, not looking at or speaking to each other. Most were staring at the deck, though a few gazed into the middle distance, lost in thought. The angry visages he’d seen when he’d walked in had been replaced by looks of sorrow and contemplation. B'Elanna and Ayala were the last two to leave, and B'Elanna shocked him by giving him a lightning-quick hug, one that was over before he could even return it.

"I thought you might want some time alone with her before you go," she said, gesturing to the program still running. "Just turn it off when you leave, okay, old man?" He nodded, and she left him. Chakotay looked around, but it felt wrong. It was way too big and eerily silent.

"Computer, return program to original specifications," he said, and the computer complied with an accommodating beep. It was once again the compact, nearly cramped engine room of Liberty, B'Elanna’s original domain. He wondered why she’d created this program, and decided that he would have to have a long talk with her. It had been far too long since he’d done that. He glanced around again, but it was still not right.

"Activate program’s warp core, run at warp three." There was suddenly the steady hum of the engines, a sound and a feeling he knew he would recognize in his bones for the rest of his days, though he would never again hear it in reality. He was assaulted by memories, and he stood for a while, thinking of his ship, his crew, and those they had left behind.

He was about to turn the program off and leave when he caught sight of the door. A thought began to flutter in his mind, and he couldn’t get rid of it. B'Elanna doesn’t do things halfway, he thought. I bet if I walked toward that door...

He did, and the door opened, showing a dim corridor beyond. Chakotay began to move with a purpose, his stride gaining speed even though he longed to reach out and touch every scarred bulkhead. As he walked the corridors of his ship, he again thought of his crew, and their pain. They had been calmer when they left the holodeck; he had a feeling the discipline problems would peter off now. I hope the ‘fleet crew will follow their example, he thought, and then he sighed. What am I going to tell Kathryn?

Thoughts of Kathryn brought back his memories of what had happened earlier in the ready room, and he smiled as he remembered the embrace they’d shared. Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, however, the final door between him and his destination opened.

Chakotay’s breath caught in his throat as he walked onto the bridge. He chuckled sardonically. This isn’t a bridge. It’s a control center; it’s not big enough to be a bridge. But it was. It was his bridge, the only bridge he’d ever truly commanded, and his heart ached with the memories.

He sat in the chair that had been his and grieved for everything he’d lost, letting out as much of the pain and the anger as he could, knowing that if he didn’t, it would cripple him. After a while, he felt calmer and more centered than he had since they had found the Hirogen’s array, and he stood, taking a deep breath. He ran a hand over the chair’s surface one last time.

"Computer," he said softly. "Save and end program."

The cramped confusion of the Liberty slowly vanished, replaced by the stark, orderly lines of Voyager.