NOW VOYAGER	
THE OFFICIAL NEWSLETTER OF THE KATE MULGREW APPRECIATION SOCIETY
VOLUME II NUMBER 5


**THE BUZZ**

	Once again rerun season is upon us, and we find ourselves with no reviews
to print. Instead we have filled this issue with commentary on Voyager's
second season, con reports, and an inordinate amount of fan fiction: the
usual copyright violation and, by popular demand, a pull-out mini-zine
filled entirely with "Resolutions"-inspired material, a J/Cer's treasure
trove. Like Chakotay says, my people have an ancient saying: "You can
please some of the people some of the time, but you can't please all of the
people all of the time." So don't blame us, we just collect and publish the
stuff!
	One of the drawbacks of fandom is that inappropriate behavior by a few
people can have repercussions for many others. Since we want this club to
be a place for everyone to participate amicably, we've decided to define
some parameters about us. Most of these are intuitive, and this column will
probably sound legalistic and negative, but it's in the best interests of
all of us to make clear:

NOW VOYAGER FAN CLUB POLICY

	Kate Mulgrew's official fan club was created to give fans a forum to
rejoice in Kate Mulgrew's career and her place in the Star Trek universe,
with the possibility of engaging in charitable and humanitarian work in her
name. Membership is open to any fan of Kate's in any country; participation
in club activities is encouraged, but not necessary.  The club and its
publications are amateur, not-for-profit entities which claim no sanction
from Paramount Pictures nor any other broadcasting company. Opinions
expressed by members do not necessarily reflect those of the fan club nor
those of Kate Mulgrew. Anyone representing Now Voyager must have written
permission from the club to do so, and must behave in a manner respectful
of Kate, her fans, and her professional contacts.
	Now Voyager reserves the right to revoke the membership of any member who
harasses Kate Mulgrew, her associates, or any other member of the fan club.
A member may also be dismissed for misrepresentation of the club,
unauthorized dissemination of materials, or behavior which could cause
embarrassment to Now Voyager or to Kate Mulgrew. Should such a cancellation
become necessary, dues will be refunded on a pro-rata basis. Now Voyager
will inform Paramount Pictures and convention organizers of any threats,
slander, or behavior which might disturb Kate's privacy or disrupt an event
connected with her. For security reasons, Now Voyager may inform current
members of the club as well.
	Now Voyager endeavors to be a family-oriented club, but since Star Trek
often deals with inflammatory social issues, the newsletter and electronic
list may feature remarks about topics which run contrary to some people's
definitions of "family values." Racist, sexist, or homophobic comments will
not be permitted. The club will not participate in any campaign directed at
the producers of Star Trek or UPN, except under circumstances such as
cancellation of a show or recasting of a character. Members participating
in write-in campaigns may not use the club's name without permission from
the club.

NOW VOYAGER EDITORIAL POLICY

	Now Voyager's newsletter is a forum to discuss and celebrate the work of
Kate Mulgrew, the character of Captain Kathryn Janeway, and the broader
universe of Star Trek. All articles submitted should be relevant to fans of
Kate and/or Star Trek. Insightful criticism is always welcome; however,
contributions which demean the performers, fans, or producers will not be
printed, as this newsletter is not the proper place for such remarks. Now
Voyager may edit submissions for clarity, length, and syntax. The club
would prefer not to create a policy which would forbid the use of specific
terminology, but reserves the right to edit profanity from any article.
Libelous or plagiarized submissions will be rejected and may be considered
grounds for dismissal from the club. Now Voyager may reject submissions for
reasons of legibility, coherence, timeliness,appropriateness, or space in
the newsletter. Articles refused by Now Voyager may be submitted elsewhere
or revised for reconsideration.
	All items printed by Now Voyager remain the property of the original
writers and artists. They may not be reprinted elsewhere without permission
of the editors for a period of two months following publication. After that
time, items appearing in Now Voyager may be printed or posted elsewhere at
the authors' and artists' discretion, provided that such material is
accompanied by a notation stating that it originally appeared in Now
Voyager. Articles submitted simultaneously to Now Voyager and other
publications must be identified as such. The use of pseudonyms is
acceptable for publication, but all submissions must include the author's
legal name.
	At present, Now Voyager does not have a letters to the editor column
because we receive very few letters per se; submissions sent as commentary
are evaluated as articles, and all suggestions are read and responded to.
The club will forward comments to writers, but will not publicly publish
criticism of authors or articles. Comments and suggestions about the club
and the newsletter are welcome. We remind our members that Now Voyager
operates on a very limited budget, so many requests simply cannot be
implemented. We want Now Voyager to represent Kate Mulgrew and her fans in
the best manner possible, and we appreciate your understanding of these
policies.

Michelle


**REVIEWZZZZZZZZ**

WRAPPING UP THE SEASON
by Cecilia Lee

	The last season of Voyager has produced many memorable and compelling
episodes, establishing a good trend for the next season. Who can forget the
heartwrenching moment in "Resistance" as Janeway leans over Caylem,
assuming the role as his daughter and reassuring the dying man wracked with
years of guilt and grief that he saved all. The rare, open display of her
emotions to a stranger contrasted well with her normally masked composure
reserved for her crew. Or when she allowed her crew to choose to stay in
"The 37's." As she and Chakotay entered the cargo bay, I know I breathed a
sigh of relief along with them. And when she executed Tuvix with that
steely determination and Starfleet composure that crumpled only after she
escaped from sickbay, revealing her personal conflict. Or in "Death Wish"
as she ordered Q out of her quarters with a simple yet deadly
whisper--"Leave!"--more effective than any lengthy outrage--then the
philosophical yet heartfelt monologue as she explained her ruling for
asylum, and implored Quinn to think hard about his decision to die, because
she likes this life. Compare that with her chilling composure as she
gracefully rose from her command chair in "Deadlock" to welcome the
Vidiians to the bridge: dying as she lived, with grace, composure, and
strength. What a fabulous season, Kate!
	This season also painted another hue to each character. From Chakotay's
conflicted youth in "Tattoo" to his coming to terms with his uniform in
"Initiations" to his declaration of...peace...in "Resolutions," we're
seeing an outline develop for his character. I would like to see more of it
filled in next season. I have to admit that I was rather ambivalent towards
him for most of the season, and amused by the scenes where his fondness for
the Captain was apparent.    But I dismissed his interest in her. Of course
anyone would worship Janeway, and it's easy to think none are worthy of
her. However, he really grabbed my attention with his quiet yet fierce
devotion in "Resolutions"--always held in check, never insistent, yet
deeply profound. I imagine that had they not been on the planet, he would
have quietly loved her, unrevealed, for a long time. He would never
compromise her position or be a source of conflict between her personal
feelings and professional duty. During the latter part of the season, I
realized that his quiet and easy manner of the past was not a weakness, but
a great strength that only the most assured men attain after a lifetime of
searching and conflict. I'm a sucker for strength that is wrapped in the
gentlest of covers, by a man who's come to terms with himself, who can live
without ever having to reveal his power.
	I wonder how this will play itself out on Voyager. I can't imagine
Chakotay would press Janeway for a relationship. She would have to come to
him, and understand where she's going with it, before he responds or
encourages her in any way. Given their behavior on the bridge, it looks as
if they have shelved whatever emotions they have. Personally, if nothing
ever happens beyond this point, I'll still be ecstatic that his emotions
were revealed. It would be even better if she revealed hers, after saying
goodbye to Mark of course. And even if they painfully agreed never to act
on it, I would be happy enough, in a bittersweet sort of way, to have been
shown this much of their relationship. Otherwise, I can't see them doing
anything other than going for broke--a love so profound and enduring that
they'd have to get married. And then what would happen to them if they got
back to Alpha Quadrant? Would they still serve together? What about kids?
What about the movies? When did this get so complicated?
	The rest of the crew have developed nicely. More time needs to be spent
with Harry Kim's character. He has to be more than the eager ensign. He did
a great job in "Resolutions," as he stood up to Tuvok, and he worked quite
well with B'Elanna in "Prototype." The same goes for Tom Paris--he's too
one dimensional.          His character was oddly showcased this season,
from testosterone Tom in "Parturition" to tormented Tom in "Threshold" to
an erratically moody Tom leading up to "Investigations." He needs to grow
up, yet still retain his zest for life that makes his character so dynamic.
	B'Elanna Torres was showcased well with "Prototype" and "Dreadnought."
However, I best enjoy her struggles with people and their decisions rather
than her inner conflicts, like when she chewed out Hogan for questioning
the captain's competence in "Alliances," argued with Janeway about the fate
of the robots in "Prototype" and then dealt with that decision, struggled
with Chakotay's disappointment of her handling of Dreadnought when she was
a Maquis, scolded the ensign and barked at Harry to "take a deep breath and
move on" in "Resolutions." Wonderful stuff. I hope this is showcased far
more next season.
	The Doctor was wonderful, of course. His acerbic wit highlighted many
scenes. I hope to see more of him next season, but I hope he avoids the "I
wish I were someone/something else" syndrome of which Data and Odo fell
victim and maintains his arrogant humour. Kes and Neelix are beginning to
lose their appeal for me. They have added a wonderful touch to many
episodes, but the monotony of their roles is becoming tiresome. Lovely as
Kes is, memorable scenes like her adding additional time to the Doctor's
flu program in "Tattoo," her sweetly wicked "Are you sure?" to the Doc's
question of his reality in "Projections," the touching moments discussing
loneliness with Captain Janeway in "Tuvix," and her chat with Tuvok in
"Resolutions" are few and far between. I don't believe her character often
warrants an entire episode like "Elogium" or "Cold Fire," but at least
she's not as annoying as Neelix.
	Surely Neelix has more to add than being the resident chef of
indigestibles and the bumbling buffoon. I'm not advocating an entire
episode focused on his character, but each presence should be different,
and not another instance of serving slop behind the counter. His most
useful scenes were his away mission in "Alliances," fighting the Kazon with
vegetables in "Projections,"  and testing  the Kazon's approach through
Nistrim space in "Basics I." I've really enjoyed Tuvok's scenes when he's
not playing Security Officer. The powerful moment in the dark of his
smashed room in "Meld," his warmth to the children and insight into Vulcan
parenting in "Innocence," his handling of Kim in "Resolutions," and his
glee at having Janeway in his quarters in "Alliances" were first
rate--never overplayed, yet obvious in a subtle way. As a result, the symbio
genesis episode was one of the best of the season. Unlike many viewers, I
thought that Janeway made the correct decision in choosing to terminate
Tuvix's life. I believe the decision was not based on numbers, i.e. kill
one life, save two. She owed a bigger duty of care to her original crew
members than Tuvix. Why? As she said, if she had to choose the moment the
accident happened, she would have had no trouble in deciding. Just because
Tuvix was quite likable does not mean she did not have a duty to Neelix and
Tuvok. Time made the decision more difficult on a personal level, but the
original dilemma was still the same. If she did not recover her crew, what
message would she be sending? That she would have more regard for an
evolving alien than for her own crewmembers? Given this argument, neither
she nor Paris should have been extracted from the salamanders they turned
into in "Threshold." Yes, the decision regarding Tuvix was difficult, and
everyone looked queasy about it. To the Captain's credit, her strength of
character enabled her to act on the correct decision and not allow her
personal regard to affect it. The facts never changed, only the degree of
intimacy with the 'victim.'
	Let's go back to that oasis within an oasis: "Resolutions." At the point
when that episode aired, I had not discovered the world of Trek on the
internet, so I was not aware of the show beyond what the spoilers revealed.
I waited all week, wondering what would compel Janeway to abandon ship. I
must have held my breath in wonder and delight the whole hour--just as the
trailer promised, but for different reasons. Janeway and Chakotay on a
planet--alone! Every time the relationship advanced, I held my breath:
"Chakotay, I've been thinking, we're no longer in a command
structure--maybe you should call me Kathryn"; the building of their house
and new life; the "what are you up to in the woods" scene; the bathtub
scene, showing their discomfort at his awareness of her physically; the
back rub scene, which triggered his toe-curling confession and her tears;
the growing easy banter, "I'd like your opinion on something in the
house..." "...you've come to the right person, I always have an opinion." I
waited for the fragile house of cards to fall. And it didn't. Going back to
Voyager does not mean they resolved anything!
	I must have had a permanent grin as I unblinkingly watched and re-watched
that episode. The whole time, I was euphoric. There's hope where none
existed before! They didn't kill it! They just added tons of fuel to that
fire. My feelings on the Did they/Didn't they debate: They definitely did
not. Not that I didn't want them to. But she was obviously surprised at his
admission, and highly unlikely to respond all of a sudden to his desire for
a relationship. More likely, she was getting used to the idea, but still
needed to say goodbye to Mark and give up on the idea of ever getting back
to Voyager. I think she obviously did come to terms with her feelings for
Chakotay, as indicated by their easy relationship at the end, but the time
frame was not quite long enough. The final New Earth scene, Janeway's
regret at what might have been as she looked to the tomatoes, was a nice
touch--the plants symbolising the growing domestic side of her that would
have borne fruit, given time. There should have been a scene where she
touched his arm and he nodded in quiet understanding before the beamed up.
This would have eased the abrupt and harsh shift as they resumed their
necessarily over-played Starfleet composure as she crisply issued out
commands, as if their absence had never happened.
	Well, as a result of "Resolutions" and "Tuvix," episode, I have become a
Trekker. Okay, perhaps not a Trekker, as I only care about Voyager. Does
that make me a Voyeur? or Voyageur? Jeri Taylor, this is all your fault.
I'm scouring the Internet for any tidbits and relying on fan fiction as I
anxiously await the third season. I'm hoping for a big Captain's redemption
in "Basics II," and, more eagerly, to see what's going to happen with
Janeway's relationship with Chakotay.
	Next season, I hope the first episode deals with the mistakes that were
made in "Basics I." I know that I should reserve my judgement until I see
the second half, but the Captain's competence has been eroded unless she
can answer some basic questions. The episode should cover her plagued
thoughts recognizing that the last encounter with an enemy was too close a
call. If they are going to survive, they will have to do more than they're
currently doing. Starfleet standards are not enough alone in the Delta
Quadrant. After getting all systems running, they should explain why no one
knew that the self destruct sequence requires the secondary command
processor, how all functions were affected by the damage, why the internal
fire systems did not put out the Kazon explosion, why the explosive was not
detected by the transporter, why the authorization code was not required
for Kulluh to take over the controls. To set the stage for the next shows,
Janeway needs to have B'Elanna and Harry work on allowing the Doc access to
all critical parts of the ship for future emergencies, Doc working on
developing a procedure to render non- Starfleet personnel unconscious in
case of alien boarding, Tuvok conducting emergency procedure drills like
how to gas the ship without affecting the principal crew.
	Janeway should blame herself for having lost control of the ship. She
needs to work herself and her crew on improving systems, cross-training and
running drill after drill. Chakotay will probably speak to her about easing
up a little, and she'll try to argue that they have to be better prepared.
She'll eventually compromise when she realizes that she's working the crew
and  herself  to  death,  ease  off  a little, but still maintain a more
aggressive and active workload for the crew. They need to search for
methods of getting home, work on the Warp 10 theory so they can go Warp
9.99999 without using too much antimatter, for a longer period of time,
find a way to create wormholes, etc. As for herself and Chakotay, they'll
both agree that they need to focus their energy on Voyager for the time
being...always with just enough flirting to keep us happy.
	For the rest of the season, adios to Seska and the Kazon. I hope Q returns
and shows how the loved ones of the crew have gone on in the Alpha
Quadrant. This would allow everyone, including Janeway, to finally let go,
as they realize their family and friends have. Janeway should ask Q if they
are ever going to make it back. His smile would give her renewed hope,
anyway.


**KATEWATCH**

BEST OF THE REP
20 MAY 1996, SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

	The annual Best of the Rep celebration was created to raise funds for
children's theater programs at the Seattle Repertory Theatre, so that kids
who would otherwise never get exposed to the dramatic arts might have a
chance to do so. This year the evening was hosted by Kate Mulgrew, with
performances by Keith Carradine, Freyda Payne, Roz Ryan, the cast of Blues
in the Night, and other performers who have been in residence at the
theater. The show took place on the main stage of the Rep, the
Bagley-Wright Theatre, currently being renovated and expanded.
	Kate has a long history with the Seattle Rep, some of which was detailed
in the local news before the charity event. A huge photograph of her in
costume from an early '80s production of Moliere's The Misanthrope hangs in
the lobby where, before the show, all patrons were treated to local fare
and brews--salmon, smoked turkey, fancy cheeses, and various other foods
which it can be dangerous to ingest while wearing formal attire! There was
a dinner for patrons after the show as well, which all the stars attended,
but one had to have purchased $250.00 tickets to attend...so I cannot
report on that portion of the event.
	Kate was dressed in an ankle-length black gown that had a velvet bodice
and chiffon skirt, with a long slit up the side that showed off her legs.
She looked elegant and exuberant, though more petite than one would expect
from her television persona. She joked about the photo in the lobby,
revealing that she was very pregnant while appearing in the production.
When she warned the director about her expanding waistline, he suggested
"More fabric!" She also joked about the Supersonics playoff game taking
place nearby that night, offering to beam us all home so that we could
avoid the traffic.
	Kate summmoned Keith Carradine to the stage by quoting his old reviews,
which she "just happened to have," and remained onstage through his
performance of several songs and a monologue from his new show. Other
present and former Rep stars performed short dramatic pieces as well. Kate
was obviously enjoying herself, tapping her feet and moving her shoulders,
during Freyda Payne's singing "Band of Gold" and throughout the blues
portion of the evening--a local school group, then Roz Ryan, and finally
the cast of Blues in the Night singing standards. Kate encouraged them to
do an encore and then thanked the applauding house.
	During the course of the evening, Kate revealed that she will be grand
marshall of Seattle's Torchlight Parade at Seafair this July, so we look
forward to having her in the neighborhood again!

--Chris Showalter

VULKON
22-23 JUNE 1996, ORLANDO, FLORIDA

	Stargazer lilies--very beautiful, very fragrant--my sinuses are still
swimming. These were the flowers of choice which Trish Williams and I
presented to Kate on behalf of Now Voyager during her first appearance in
Orlando. It was all arranged with Michelle, Kate's publicist, Joe Motes
(Vulkon promoter) and his staff. We were told where to stand, that we would
make the presentation as soon as she got on stage, and that Kate was indeed
aware it was coming. At 3:30 p.m. on Saturday, Kate breezed into the room
amid thunderous applause and a standing ovation. She immediately grabbed a
mike and began to talk...and talk...and talk... Fifteen minutes later,
Trish and I were still standing there, the fragrance making my eyes spin as
I looked wistfully into the audience where my vacant chair awaited me. In
hushed tones, Trish said, "She's got to take a breath eventually. Then
we're busting in there!" Sure enough, Kate finally paused to take her first
question, and Trish leaped to the stage. Kate was very gracious and handed
the mike to Trish, much to her chagrin. We made our presentation, got
kisses on the cheek (happy sigh), updated Kate on Michelle's expectant
condition, and beat as hasty a retreat as possible through the sea of 1100
back to our seats to enjoy the rest of Kate's talk.
	I was quite unprepared for just how comfortable Kate is in a con
setting--seemingly a natural. She's bright, witty, quick on her feet with
questions asked by both adults and children, and very funny. My 10-year-old
son, who has been dragged to many a convention since he was just a baby,
remarked to me later that Kate was the best guest he'd ever seen. He was
really impressed by her, and suffice to say, so were 1100 other folks that
day, and more the next.
	Kate opened her talk on Saturday with very Orlando-specific statements.
Most notably, she said that Orlando is recognized around Paramount for
having one of the best and most unconditional support systems for Voyager.
Does she say that everywhere she goes? I don't think I've read as such, so
if it's true, we're blushing! She also admitted that she and her children
were vacationing in Orlando, and that her boys--the "Irish twins"--had been
so courteous and entertained since they'd hit the theme parks four days
earlier that she had to ask, "Should we live at Disney World?"
	I think I liked best those times when Kate talked about her upbringing,
her drive to become an actress at age 12 and the hard work it took to get
where she is, her sons, and the commonalities she shares with many of the
rest of us--such as the difficulties in raising two pubescent boys whom she
obviously adores, working long hours, keeping house (the phrase "up to my
elbows in ground beef" kept popping up), and what it was like growing up in
a very ethnic environment. Somehow, all that manages to bring her down from
that pedestal where she is Kate Mulgrew, The Actress, to a level where the
rest of us can recognize her as simply a warm and interesting woman anyone
would love to sit down and have a conversation with--assuming you could get
a word in edgewise <grin>. One of my favorite anecdotes that she told about
the early days of career was how she "lied, stole, and begged" to get an
agent. When she was 18 she walked into the offices of Star Castle Agency,
at the time one of the best agents in New York. She told the receptionist
that she had met a Mr. Hesselton the week before at a party in South
Hampton, and that he told her to come in. A half hour later she was
standing in Hesselton's office where he demanded she perform a comedy
monologue and another from Shakespeare right then on her feet. After she
did them, he said, "Sit down, sign here, and don't ever lie to me again."
Two weeks later, her agent got her the role of Mary Ryan on Ryan's Hope
which she taped during the day, and then at night she was driven out to
Stratford, Connecticut, to star in the stage play Our Town. That was her
first summer as a professional actress.
	Both days at the start of her talk, Kate went to great lengths to focus on
each of her Voyager costars and to highlight their strengths and gifts, as
well as her heartfelt adoration for all of them. She said more than once
that it was so unusual to find a group of nine who all got along
spectacularly, but that this was indeed the case on the set of Voyager. Of
course, the pitfalls of getting nine people in a room who like each other
so much would have to include a lot of laughter, a lot of fooling around,
and the infamous practical jokes. At this time, Kate's pet peeve is Tim
Russ, "The Dead Man" who has made it his mission in the last six months to
get Kate to crack during her close ups. After being on the losing end of a
spitball war while filming "Basics," Kate said she paid a wardrobe guy to
go into Tim's trailer, remove his clothing, and leave only a car key. As
luck would have it, she underestimated Tim once again because, as Kate
found out, "Nudity is his natural state!" I think it's safe to say there
are a few of us who will never look at Tuvok in quite the same light again,
and not without a smile on our faces.
	Kate certainly seems to understand the passion fans have for the
franchise. When asked by her friends, family, or peers what it's like to
talk to the fans, she answers, "Have you ever been passionate about
anything in your life? About a hobby...I don't think anything compares to
what I have seen...but I mean this in a kind of extraordinary way, because
I am very passionate about my hobby, which is acting."
	Kate's passion for her character is never in question. She admits that she
fell in love with Kathryn Janeway right from the start. "I think it only
happens once or twice," Kate said. "A little like men, isn't it?" For Kate,
the challenge is to take Janeway even deeper than the writers conceived her
to be. When asked whether or not we would see Janeway exploring her
personal and spiritual side more in season three, Kate remarked that "The
executive producers and possibly those in charge of the franchise...think
the captain has to be...outside of personal peril. I think just the
opposite. I think the more you come with me in my heart, in my head, the
more we go together." Kate wants to find a more complicated level for
Janeway and for the rest of the characters, and she expressed a desire to
see Janeway "tortured." She stated that the interpersonal relationships on
the ship intrigue her and that she wanted to see them all investigated.
	In that respect, when asked if she could write or produce any episode she
wanted, what would it entail, both days she immediately answered that she
would focus on a relationship between Paris and Torres, using Janeway as
the voyeur. However, on the subject of Janeway's own love life, Kate seemed
pretty certain that she didn't want to see a romance explored between
Janeway and Chakotay. Instead, she said, "How about for the first time in
the history of episodic television, a man and a woman have a friendship so
deep, so true, so exciting, that you don't care about [romance]?"
Personally, I think the fact that Kate wants to see a romance written for
Paris and Torres is fueled by her desire to take the heat off Janeway and
Chakotay for a while! Kate really does seem to think there are a lot of
things Janeway can't get away with--a lot that the audience won't
accept--because she's a woman in the center seat. With someone like Picard,
whom she described as an attractive and brilliant captain, she thinks it's
perfectly acceptable for him to go down to some planet and have a brief
fling--but Janeway couldn't get away with that because, "If she's nothing
else, she's a lady." On a related note, she mentioned that Janeway's
holodeck program was written out because of the backlash from fans who
seemed concerned that the character was immersing herself in a passionate
affair with a figment of her imagination.
	Kate did touch on the controversy about Janeway's "touchy-feely quotient"
and said, "If you were lost in space...probably never will see your family,
loved ones, wives, husbands, children again, wouldn't you lay a hand on
somebody? I do that to remind them that we're all in this together." As to
Janeway's relationship with different kind of man--specifically Q--she
admitted that she and the producers would love to find a way to bring the
character back at least quarterly. Kate likes working with John de Lancie a
lot--he's one of her closest male friends. She wondered why Janeway and Q
couldn't be allies, "in the most electrifying sense. Where in fact she is
titillated by this extraordinary personality...and he also conversely is
rather fascinated by her."
	Kate's personal favorite episode she says is a toss up between
"Resistance" and "Death Wish". Episodes that the audience kept asking about
included "Deadlock" and her extensive double work there (or as Kate put it,
"Double Janeway--a Baskin Robbins flavor."), and "Tuvix." One audience
member remarked how "Tuvix" showcased the true loneliness of command, to
which Kate agreed. She admitted there was a desire to lighten up the mood a
bit at the end by having Janeway talk to Tuvok or something like that, but
that she urged them to take the route that they did where it was obvious
that no one else would have anything to do with the outcome, and to keep
the ending very somber. Kate also thought that "Meld" was wonderful, and
said that Tim Russ's performance moved her a lot in that one.  What's
coming up in season three? Kate did say that a new diabolical and
terrifying species of aliens has been developed. Up until now, she admitted
that her favorite aliens were the Vidiians. "I mean, you can always get bad
guys, but organ stealers--they're hard to come by!" Kate also indicated
that there would be more babies on Voyager, but gave no more details than
that!
	She said that unlike some of her costars like Robbie McNeill and Robert
Picardo, she had no plans to direct because she wasn't objective enough. "I
have a very myopic approach," Kate said, and "I think a directorial sense
is far more spacial." But she did go on to say, "Never say never, and never
say die." When it came time to field the infamous hair question, Kate
simply groaned and said that she didn't understand why that was the most
interesting thing about her character. "I mean, the ship can explode, we
can get lost in this quadrant, the alien species take my organs...but what
about her hair?!?" She led the audience to admit that the only reason her
hair was so interesting was because she was a woman. Kate said, "If Janeway
lent as much credibility to her hair as the United States has given it, who
would I be? I'd be Dolly Parton!"
	Kate said that she wants to elevate Voyager to a critical level. She
admitted that she didn't understand anything about numbers, and the
franchise game, and that she didn't really care about all that anyway. Kate
said when she had the opportunity to go to the White House, the First Lady
shook her hand and said, "It's the only show that Chelsea and I watch in
the week." To which Kate responded, "Well, madam, if it's good enough for
you, it's good enough for the rest of the nation!"
	I do have to note that Kate had quite a bit of good-natured fun with
questions about "Threshold." On Saturday, Kate brought up on stage two
young boys who had their hands raised for a while, but were talking to each
other when she called on them. She took a couple minutes to needle them
with good humor, and then got a bit taken aback when the question one asked
her was, "How did you feel when you had babies with Tom Paris on that
episode?" I think the whole audience busted a gut at that point. After a
moment to compose herself, Kate came back with, "You called those babies?
Those were salamanders...I felt a little odd about that because if you were
me, and you were pregnant, and you had salamanders..." Sometime after that,
an audience member asked about Martha Hackett's real life baby, and whether
or not she had a boy or a girl. Kate launched into what a beautiful baby
Martha had, but was embarrassingly stumped when she realized she couldn't
remember if it was a boy or girl. She said, "You see, if they're not
salamanders, I can't remember!" Kate did finally recall that Martha had a
boy.
	As for the rest of the con, the Now Voyager/RanDoM Flight table was a huge
success. We were stationed right outside the dealer's room, so the traffic
level was stifling! Any and all Now Voyagerites came by to introduce
themselves and get their badges. Everyone was wonderful. All the flyers
were picked up, and folks really enjoyed looking at all the photos and
other items of interest, such as the "Touchy-Feely Count" and "65 Reasons
Janeway is Better than Picard." Anne Davenport's wonderful papier-mache
Tom/Kathryn/baby salamanders were a hit with the crowd, who loved looking
at them, touching them (making me a nervous wreck), and wanting to know
which was which. Anne had marked their names on the bottom of the adults,
and twice when our attentions were diverted, we turned back to find the
salamanders stacked in mating position, with Tom appropriately on top!

--Pam Buickel

	My youngest daughter once asked me--after she had just seen me interact
with a particularly vivacious and animated woman in a store--"Mom...would
you say that lady has a BIG personality?" My daughter's question aptly
describes the personality of Kate Mulgrew. She is prettier and slimmer in
person than on TV. Her hair is not quite shoulder length, and she wore it
down. To a sold-out crowd of over 1000--looking elegant in an off-white,
long-sleeved pantsuit with a long, single strand of pearls--she promptly
launched into her two reasons for liking Orlando: It is the best city when
it comes to unconditional support for Voyager...and her children have not
asked her what they could do for the past three days!
	Because of her age, she then talked about how she feared that beloved
character part would never come. After Genevieve Bujold left Voyager and
Mulgrew was called back, there were four other actresses competing for
Janeway's role. Kate noted the difference trying out for a part. At 20, you
walk in (Kate struts with an attitude; audience hoots and cheers)--but when
you're 40, you walk in and say, "Hi Helen! How are you doing and how are
the kids?" Physically sick with a fever, she had 10 minutes to audition in
front of 35 people, stating before she began, "You know...I love her." When
it was over, she said "'Thank you very much'...went home...threw up...went
to bed." Rick Berman called the next morning with "Welcome aboard,
Captain."
	Mulgrew talked about the eight company members that "she truly does
adore"--with the exception of Tim Russ, describing him as a dead man. After
one particularly well-placed spitball in the middle of her forehead--they
said "cut," she said "you're dead"--she paid wardrobe $500 to remove all of
his clothing from his trailer, leaving him with one car key. He went about
his business unperturbed because, "Nudity is his natural state!" Her second
nemesis is John Ethan Phillips because just before a 10 minute bridge scene
involving all the characters, he starts with the stupidest jokes, and they
eventually all lose it.
	Continuing to laud her co-workers, she stated that "Everybody is great.
Garrett Wang is great--and young." Jennifer Lien is "beautiful, deep,
solitary" and a mystery to Mulgrew. She called Bob Picardo the
"most perfectionist, involved, skilled actor," affectionately labeled him
"anal-retentive," and said she feels that he will be directing soon. Roxann
Biggs-Dawson continues to surprise her because "her life is full of quality
and risk-taking." She said Roxann just converted to Catholicism "at her
age", and is a "great friend--beautiful and superb wife--and an intense and
exciting actress!"
	Robbie McNeill is "naughty" on the bridge. During the eighteenth shooting
hour, "Mr. Paris starts voice changes." She described being on the bridge
with everyone as being the same as in the kitchen with a big
family--alluding to her growing up in a large family of eight. McNeill
directed her in an upcoming third season episode called "Sacred Ground"
concerning Janeway's spirituality. She said he has a "genius touch" for
directing, showing "patience, kindness, and attention to detail," and was
very impressed by the manner in which McNeill treated the four senior
actors--as if he were blessed to have them working for him, and not the
other way around.
	Last, but not least, she talked about Robert Beltran: "If only he could
get a date!" Mulgrew said that when she complains about his "broads"
bothering her to get to him, he just gives her an innocent "What? Are they
bothering you?" and--as he's walking away--25 women are following in his
wake. This seemed to affect her opinion of Chakotay. Regarding any future
with himself and Janeway, she said, "I think not--I'd be #50 in his line!
No, it wouldn't work. 'Red alert! And Commander--in my ready room!'"
	Mulgrew describes herself as "one of the world's happiest actresses."  She
said the work is "hard and exacting" and "you have to be tough and
disciplined." If they have a 5 or 6 page scene, and one line is
inverted--can't say an "if" for a "but"--they reshoot the scene. The 8--16
hour days with no tolerance for improvisation can be "disconcerting" to the
guest actors. Alluding to her roots, Mulgrew described the long work day as
"Irish-Catholic penance"; she also called her 12 and 13 year old sons
"Irish twins,"  and revealed that after the phone call from Rick Berman,
she fell down on her knees with her sons and housekeeper to recite "Our
Father," and then brought out the champagne!
	After Bartricia Williams and Pam Buickel gave Kate Mulgrew flowers on
behalf of Now Voyager, she stated that she was overwhelmed at the
unconditional support from her fans. When a fan asked how long it took her
to realize how much she was appreciated, she again stated that she still
hasn't realized how much (ahhhs and then applause). She said it was because
of "her own myopia" concentrating on Janeway only; she has a "deep and
abiding passion for her."
	Mulgrew zeroed in on children during the questioning. A tiny girl asked
her in a little voice, "What's your middle name?"--"Katherine Kiernan Maria
Mulgrew--and they would have gone on, but they decided to have a drink
instead!" Asked if she could work with her own children on the show, she
said...no. "It's difficult to work with them in my own living room!" She
had a 12 year old boy and his Klingon friend come up on stage. They wanted
to know how it felt to give birth to the babies in "Threshold"; she said,
"You mean salamanders?  Bizarre, wasn't it. Why me?" She went on to say
that she felt a little odd about that episode, and her reaction to Tom
Paris in sickbay, "I don't think I'd ever go with you anyway if we ever had
a chance"...wasn't very complimentary. She added that there will be more
babies on Voyager next season!
	Continuing to answer questions from fans, she said she does a voice on the
cartoon Gargoyles, and has always found time to do a Saturday morning
cartoon. Asked about working with LeVar Burton and Jonathan Frakes as
directors, she said Burton is a wonderful director because "he's such a
good actor" and Frakes is a "madman, but divine." With him, what you see is
what you get. She hopes he has a successful directorial debut with the new
Star Trek feature film because "it would mean a whole new life for him."
Mulgrew feels that she herself is not objective enough to direct an episode
of Voyager.
	When asked the obligatory hair question, she said she "put her foot down"
with the producers to leave it up in the traditional bun because it's
"elegant, quick...and Janeway doesn't care." Asked if she would like to
meet her "evil twin," she said it would be fun to meet her doppleganger,
and "her hair would be down!"
	She said she enjoyed working with George Takei on the 30th anniversary
episode and that we are "in for a treat." She got to work with Avery Brooks
several years ago in Roots: the Gift-- she played a bounty hunter and "the
dead man" Tim Russ played a houseboy--she described Brooks as a great actor
and "complicated personality." She said it was a privilege to work with
such a powerful and intense actor.
	Asked what kind of story lines would she like to see, Mulgrew said that
she would like to see Janeway act as "voyeur" for Paris and B'Elanna, and
would like the relationship not to be so "pretty," i.e. B'Elanna goes for
Tom, Tom doesn't reciprocate..."let's see them fight, and then let's see
them discover one another." Mulgrew would like to see an increase in
interpersonal relationships among the crew and an exploration of the "whole
family dynamics." She thinks there will be some really big surprises this
season! The holonovel was thrown out because "we didn't like Janeway making
love to an invisible man." Mulgrew went on to say that there are "dicey
things about  Janeway--she  can't  do  a love affair because she is a woman
and, "if she's nothing else, she's a lady." Where a man could get away with
the affair, a woman can't, "because she can have a baby." Asked if she had
a tough time showing Janeway's toughness, she laughed. "Those are the
scenes I love...not tough, but truth."
	When asked about how Mulgrew feels about her Janeway doll, she told a
story about how while driving in traffic, she stopped next to a guy in a
BMW who "looked like he owned the city. He had a little Janeway doll
hanging from his rear-view mirror! She smiled at him, but he didn't
recognize her; he waved her off and drove away.
	She also talked about how difficult it is to work with animals and
children, but that's what viewers like to see. The monkey in "Resolutions"
kept escaping every day up into the rafters. They tried bribing it down
with chips, McDonald's, etc. Her lizard spirit guide had an animal trainer
who--to get it to sit still on the log--put it in the deep freeze for 15
minutes, and then warmed it up with a hair dryer. She said the little
lizard probably woke up and thought, "Hope I'm getting overtime for this"!
	After Mulgrew finished answering questions, she had a marathon session of
signing autographs: ("Captain Janeway, your assignment, if you choose to
accept it, is to sign as many photographs as possible in a 90 minute
timespan...") I didn't get a chance to tell her how impressed we are with
her characterization of Kathryn Janeway, so I'll just end my report by
saying "You know...we love her, too!"

--Jackie LeBoeuf

	Before the weekend started, I had heard stories about how great Kate was
in person, but I never expected this. I think I would have to say that I
was awestruck! The woman is simply incredible. I have gone to many
conventions, but I have never come away feeling so happy.
	I had been excited about seeing her as soon as I heard she was coming to
my home town of Orlando. I ordered the tickets as soon as I could and was
graced with second row seats. For two months, I joked with my friends that
I would be close enough for her to spit on me. Just to see her was enough
for me, but to be that close...let's put it this way, we were sitting so
close that we could see that her toenails were painted red.
	Kate is a truly impressive woman in person. It starts with the way she
carries herself, right down to the inspirational talks she has with
children about following their hearts in a given career. After awhile you
start to feel like you really know her. You feel close to her because her
motherly instincts show in everything she does. She would stop to talk to
every child and always call them "sweetie." She reminded me more of my own
mother and not of Captain Janeway.
	We were told before the convention started that she would only sign
autographs for 90 minutes. The whole process was streamlined to get as many
people as possible through. On Saturday, she signed 1100 autographs in 80
minutes! Everyone went home with an autograph. And the quality of each
signature was excellent. The last one she signed looked as good as the
first. Many of us sat in awe watching her sign at world record pace.
	On Sunday, my friends and I realized that we probably would not see her
for quite awhile since she does so few conventions. As we walked out of the
hotel, we saw her limo waiting. Another opportunity! We waited with about a
dozen other people. Finally, I heard, "Here she comes!" I got my camera and
everyone packed in. The strange thing was that she stopped to pick up a
child. The mother immediately got her camera. After the photo op, Kate went
to get in the car. She stopped again and looked over the small but growing
crowd. That's when it happened. She looked straight at me. It only lasted
for a second or two, but it felt like an eternity to me. I was overcome by
this indescribable feeling. Why does this woman hold such power over me?
She got into the car and out of my line of sight.
	Being from Orlando, we could guess which area of town Kate was staying in.
We were heading in that direction anyway to go home, so we decided to
follow the limo for a bit. In order to catch up, we had to play a little
"Dukes of Hazzard." The silliness of two girls in their early 20's kicked
in. I dared my usually shy friend to make a sign that said, "We love you
Kate!" and put it in the window. It took some doing, but we got right
beside the limo and did it. We don't know if she saw it or not, but we got
a great laugh out of it and a lot of memories of a great weekend.
	We went home that evening with a feeling that we had gotten a glimpse of a
truly inspirational woman. When I got home and my parents asked how it
went, the only word I could utter was, "Wow!"

-- Stephanie Whiddon

	Kate was well-rested and very energetic, having spent the last few days at
Disney World with her sons, and she seemed to have been enjoying
herself--in fact, Kate was like a walking advertisement for the amusement
park. "How many times have my children dragged me on to the Alien Encounter
ride? I do the Alien Encounter ride for a living!" Throughout her visit,
Kate was increasingly shocked at her boys' behavior. "I am going to kiss
Walt Disney! Never have my sons been so courteous, because they're so
entertained!" she said, shaking her head in dismay. "I mean, these rides!
They come out of the rides; they jump on the boat; they're out on the sea;
they eat 52 cheeseburgers; they come in, take a nap; they get up and go out
again. 'It's great, Mom! It's great!' Should we live at Disney World?"
	Kate also spoke briefly of her home life with her sons. "I watch my boys.
I am in abject amazement in the emotional changes they'll go through in one
day. I now wake up my youngest son and say, 'Just give me one clue: What's
the personality today?'" She admitted at one point, "At 12, you can decide
your whole life." But she balked at the idea of having her sons on Voyager
with her--"My children? On the Bridge? Don't make me fall down and order a
tranquilizer!"
	Kate had nothing but praise for her Voyager castmates. "It's very unusual
that nine people would get along like this. We have to work together; we
have to laugh together; we have to be together. It's a family." When a
small child stood up and asked Kate who, of the cast members, she loves,
Kate had little trouble answering. "I love Ethan Phillips. The world is a
better place because of John Ethan Phillips..." She referred to him as her
heart's delight. "Mr. Happy, whose mission in life is to make us all wet
our pants before the big scene [each] day."
	"I love Roxann Biggs-Dawson," Kate added a moment later. "The most
exciting, gifted, skilled actress. She's very intelligent, and one of those
people who can move you after a three-hour conversation. She's just a kind
of walking miracle to me." Next came Robert Beltran. "He's all man!" she
admonished to the Saturday crowd. "I'm terribly fond of Robert
Beltran...but then, so is the rest of the world." She rolled her eyes at
the topic of Beltran's love life. "Who do you think [his women] bother? 'Oh
Captain Janeway, is he free now?' 'Who do I look like to you? Dr. Ruth?'"
	She spoke kindly of "Garrett Wang, who keeps us on our toes. Garrett is a
facinating person." Then, "we have Robbie McNeill, whom I simply adore. His
trailor is right next to mine. We're in and out of each others' trailers,
and we're talking all the time. Therefore, I know more about him, on a
personal level, than anyone else." Kate later told the Sunday's audience,
"I adore Jennifer [Lien]. She is a bibliophile. She is incredibly private,
very solitary. She is a thinker and a feeler...and nobody can blow your
mind in a scene like that girl!" The one member of her "crew" that she
spoke negatively (though jokingly) of was the practical-joking Tim Russ. It
seems the jokes Mr. Russ has played on our Captain this past season have
primed her for revenge. "Mr. Tim Russ...is finished. He's not going to make
it. He doesn't know it yet, but he's dead." Hence his new pet name, "The
Dead Man."
	In addition to the regular cast members, she commended the work of several
guest stars and directors: Johnathan Frakes ("He's absolutely devine... and
as a director, he's sublime!"); LeVar Burton ("He has the golden touch [for
directing]."); Martha Hackett (Martha is a fabulous actress!") George Takei
("I have seldom met a more gracious and intelligent man."); and John De
Lancie ("That madman! The guy is a consummate actor.")
	At a recent Orlando convention, Garrett Wang was asked by a fan what kind
of story he would like to see done on Voyager, and Garrett, in his usual
cocky manner, answered that he would like to do an episode in which Kim and
Janeway were trapped in a turbolift together, and, through a series of
(off-screen) events, Harry would "prove to her that he was was a man." An
attendee of the Orlando con related this story to Kate, which sent Kate and
the crowd into peals of laughter. "I don't know," she grinned, "if he could
stay away from Las Vegas long enough to get into the turbolift...prove to
me that he's a man!' I mean, he's proven that to the entire western world."

	Kate was asked to answer this same question and marveled at what a
"provacative" question it truly was. Her answer: "I think that I would
remove myself, actually, and I would focus on a relationship between Tom
Paris and B'Elanna Torres. Maybe using Janeway as the voyeur.
Intra-personal relationships on the ship intrigue me...and I would like to
see them really investigated. I would like to see them not so pretty. Let's
say B'Elanna goes for Tom, Tom doesn't go for B'Elanna. Let's see a fight!
Let's see that Klingon in her go after him. Let's see him, instead of
always having this dandy, suave response, really put up [against the wall].
Then, let's see them discover each other as a result of it. I would like to
go places with them."
	She also gave what she referred to as a "selfish" answer. "I would like to
see [Janeway's] flaws exposed. I would like to see her tortured." The crowd
giggled at this last statement and a woman shouted out, "Read the
fanzines!" "I have had ample opportunities," Kate added. "Janeway's had
some very good episodes. So I would like to go now and watch a few of the
others. These are great actors. And what is more compelling to you as an
audience than watching the whole family dynamic at work? I want, next
season, to find an even more complicated level."
	Kate's favorite Voyager villians? The Vidiians, of course! "You can always
get bad guys, but organ stealers? They're hard to come by!" Kate mused that
perhaps Martha Hackett [Seska] could come back as a Vidiian. "The leader of
of the Vidiians! They'd never recognize her! Put a little pancreas on her
nose." An adolescent boy stood up and asked Kate what it was like to have
babies with Paris, but Kate turned the question back around on him. "If you
were me...and you were pregnant...and you had salamanders...?" The boy
thought for a moment, then answered, "I might just kill myself."
	Another question pertaining to the third season: Will Janeway's spiritual
side be explored? "When you get into somebody's personal life, you have to
see their vulnerabilities and their weaknesses. You have to see their
loneliness. [The producers] think the Captain has to be outside personal
peril. I think just the opposite. I think the more you come with me--in my
heart, in my head--the more we go together. The more I stand outside, the
less compelling it will be for you. There's no reason on Earth why I can't
run a ship and [then] go into my quarters and reveal a completely different
side."
	Kate absolutely loves acting. "It's the best there is, because there is no
security. And that's the only way to live!" She told the Sunday crowd about
how she had gotten herself an agent. "I tell you all with pride: I lied,
stole, and begged to get one." She walked into the office of one of the
best agents in New York and told the recepionist that he had invited her in
for an interview. "She looks at me--I mean, how many times has she heard
this before--and says 'Gimme a minute,' and goes into the back. I must have
waited for a half an hour. Suddenly, from around the bend, this tall,
remarkable-looking man... 'Oh, Kate! Yes, so good to see you again!' He
closed the door to the room and he says, 'This is absolutely unacceptable.
Now, I want you to do a monologue from Shakespeare and a comedy monologue.
And I want you to do it now, on your feet, and not think.' I did it. He
said, 'Sit down, sign here, and never lie to me again.'"
	Kate is an opera aficionado. "I love opera! My mother played it all the
time when I was a little girl. I think that your ear falls in love, whether
you know it or not. So, I play it now for my boys...when they're not
playing `Busta Rhymes' or whatever.    Janeway will listen to opera," she
adds. On her Irish heritage, Kate said, "We can survive anything on one
potato."
	 Kate spoke a bit about working on Roots: The Gift with two of her present
Trek colleagues (plus LeVar Burton, who starred in the TV movie). Avery
Brooks "was a powerful and intense actor, and I think his intensity has
grown. It's wonderful to pass him in the alley twice a day!" And "Tim Russ
was a houseboy; he never lets me forget that!" When the topic of Tuvok's
Pon Farr came up, Kate demurred, "That just grosses me out: Tuvok with a
seven-year-itch. The itching he does every day is quite enough!"
	Even though she complained wholeheartedly over the debate about her hair,
Kate seemed to have a good time poking fun at that part of Janeway's
infamy, spouting a barrage of one-liners: "You go to Yellow Alert; I'll go
and get my curlers!"; "If Janeway lent as much credibility to her hair as
the United States has given it, who would I be? I'd be Dolly Parton!"; "I
called Patrick Stewart for the first 6 months [I was on Voyager] and just
left him crank notes. `You think you had it so hard...'"
	Kate admits to having an oddly familiar characteristic--"Yours truly
always has a very strong opinion." Does Kate have a hard time being
tough?--"No, no. No, no, no, no, no... You got the wrong actress there."
She described "Deadlock" as "Double Janeway. It's new at Baskin Robbins!"
and speculated on the alternate universe Janeway: "Wouldn't she be fun? And
her hair would be down!"

--Leah Frey

	Kate made an appearance at Disney World the week she was in Orlando, and a
few members managed to attend. One report:
	The questions were much the same as at the convention, rather
unexceptional, except for one little girl who was adorable.
	"When you were little did you want to be a TV star?"
	"No, I wanted to be an actress. Do you know the difference between--honey,
come back to the microphone--do you know the difference between beeing an
actress and being a TV star?"
	"An actress acts...."
	"And a TV star [laughing] does what?"
	" ...is famous."
	"Give her a hand, that was absolutely brilliant. And I would rather act,
honey."
	I saw her at the con in Orlando, but I couldn't tell whether the person on
the stage was as genuinely gracious and, well, nice, as Kate appeared to
be. However, after seeing her in the oppressive heat of an Orlando
afternoon, I know the truth. Sarah Bernhardt couldn't fake it on a day like
that. I  wanted to leave after five minutes in the sun...if I hadn't
promised pictures, I would have been gone in minutes. By the way, the water
spots on the photos are either from my sweat, or the water that Disney
employees insisted misting the spectators.

--Lauren Baum

KATE'S CONS AND APPEARANCES

Remember: ALL DATES ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE. Please contact the event
organizers before purchasing tickets to see a guest.

SeaFair Torchlight Parade, Seattle, Washington, August 2.
Creation in Minneapolis, Minnesota, August 4, (818) 409-0960.
Creation in Detroit, Michigan, August 17-18, (818) 409-0960.
Paramount Pictures' 30th Anniversary Star Trek Convention, Huntsville,
Alabama, September 7-8, (888) 2BEAMUP


**THE KATE MULGREW FILM FESTIVAL COLUMN**

BATMAN: THE ANIMATED SERIES
by Emily J. Clare Friedman

	Recently, Kate Mulgrew did the voice of Titania/Anastasia Reynard for
Gargoyles, the first time most Voyager fans have heard her doing a regular
character's voice on an animated series. However, this is not the first
time Kate has lent her voice to a well-written cartoon. In 1992, Kate was
the voice of the Batman villainess Red Claw, the blue-eyed, imposing,
svelte Slavic supervillian, with a streak of white through her long black
hair and a nifty blood-red tattoo on one arm. She has thus far appeared in
two episodes: the two-parter "The Cat and The Claw," and "The Lion and The
Unicorn."
	In Part One of "The Cat and The Claw," Catwoman makes her first
appearance, as a petty jewelry thief who catches Batty's eye. She firsts
meets Bruce Wayne/Batman at a charity bachelor auction for a wildcat
preserve, and the B plot of the two episodes centers on the inability of
the two to go on the date Selena/Catwoman has paid $10,000 for. In the A
plot, however, Batman discovers that a super-villian named Red
Claw--presumed to be a man--is reportedly on his way to Gotham. While
attempting to investigate the destruction of an animal preserve, Catwoman
uncovers Red Claw's secret operation and tries to infiltrate it, but is
captured by Red Claw. She escapes, and later there is brief interlude
between herself and Batman which ends with Catwoman, scorned, pitching
Batman off the side of a building.
	Part Two opens with a mysterious encounter between Batman and an aging
gangster in the park, where he finds out more about a heist Red Claw is
planning. Batman discovers that Red Claw plans to steal a virulent toxin
from a top-secret government train, unknown even to Police Commissioner
Gordon. Cut to a secret midnight run by a federal train a la X-Files, and
Red Claw's henchman attacking the convoy. Batman proceeds to rough up the
bad guys, then comes face-to-face with Red Claw--who <gasp> is a woman!
"You gotta a prrroblem wis zat?" she asks. "Not at all," he replies, "I'm
an equal oppertunity crime fighter." But alas, she has the plague canister
in her hands, and Batman can do nothing but watch her escape in her
heliocopter.  "You've finally met yourr match, Batman," she laughs. "Not
surprrising it's a woooman!" Gotta love a feminist villian. Red Claw issues
her demands: one billion dollars in 24 hours, or Gotham and all people in a
10-mile radius will be killed by the plague. Meanwhile, on the mountain
lion preserve, Catwoman slips into Red Claw's lair again, gets caught again
while taking more pictures, is rescued by Batman, then they're caught by
Red Claw, tied up, and locked in a government compound with the vial of
poison--the top covered with acid. They escape their confines, blowing up
the place in their wake. As the police arrive, Catwoman and Red Claw end up
fighting to the death. Luckily, Selena's mountain lion friend pounces on
Red Claw, foiling her escape, if in a rather cliched manner.
	Alfred the butler a spy? In "The Lion and The Unicorn," we find out that
Batman's butler, Alfred Pennyworth, is a former attache in the British
security service, but became well-known for his ability to defuse
diplomatic situations. Alfred is called to London by a cousin whom we find
out is being controlled by none other than Red Claw herself. He is
kidnapped in his hotel room by two thugs, but he was on the phone with
Batman at the time, which leads Batman and Robin to London to rescue him.
Meanwhile, Alfred and his "cousin," Agent Frederic, meet at Red Claw's
hideout. "If you cooperate, you might live to see another day," she
threatens ominously. As it turns out, each of the two aging spies has half
of a firing code for a huge missile, and Red Claw wants it, which means
she's going to get it. She pulls out two vials of truth serum. "You may
struggle if you like," she quips menacingly, "But you will not hold out for
long." Then she admits that it might be amusing." "Anything to amuse a
lady," deadpans Alfred. "If lady is the word I'm looking for--which I
doubt." Unruffled, she tsks, "Sticks and stones." As the serum is working,
Red Claw slides away a bookcase to reveal a computer. The two spies fight
the serum, and Alfred says, "You'll get nothing but gibberish from me,
Madam," and proceeds to mumble like a madman. Red Claw is not amused. "And
people wonder why no one takes Britain seriously anymore," she groans,
shaking her head. Finally, the other agent lets out his code, "absurdly
simple like most passwords."
	Batman and Robin find out that Red Claw has occupied Blairquon Castle, off
the west Scottish coast, the base for Project Excalibur and the last of
Great Britain's land-based missile silos. Red Claw, aghast that they have
discovered her fiendish plan, locks them in a room fast-filling with smoke
and liquid. Broadcasting to all London televisions, Red Claw proceeds to
issue a new ultimatum, much bigger than that of "The Cat and The Claw":
London will be destroyed if five billion pounds aren't delivered in one
hour. As Red Claw slaps and yells at Pennyworth, the heavy Slavic tones
slip into Irish brogue more than once. Finally, she realizes that he's not
immune to the serum, he's been mumbling the code all along: The Lion and
The Unicorn! (And you thought they'd never fit in the title!) She sets the
countdown for one hour and attempts to make her escape. In the ensuing
battle, she knocks out Alfred and Robin and activates the launch early.
Batman is forced to leave to save London without taking Red Claw. Little
does he know she's stowed away on the Batplane until she grabs his face
from behind, they scuffle, and she gets ejected with a parachute while
Batman proceeds to save the day by detonating the bomb just short of Big
Ben.
	In both of the episodes featuring Red Claw, the character, and the way
Mulgrew's vibrant, life-giving inflections and tones portray her, is shown
to be one of the few empowered, fascinating women in the dark cartoon, in
which sadly all "good" women are passive and most villianesses are
confident and self-assured. Is it mere coincidence that Red Claw, delighted
by her temporary defeat of Batman, plays with her hair for a minute before
tossing it over her shoulder? Yet another coincidence: she uses more
gestures and moves more than any animated person I've seen. Like Poison Ivy
and other Batman villianesses, Red Claw makes intelligent young girls like
me wish to be on the wrong side of the law--in the male-oriented world of
Gotham, it's ever so much more interesting.


**THE FUNNY PAGES**

VOYAGER WITH A GERMAN ACCENT
by Marco Zehe

	As many of you probably know already, when Star Trek or other American or
British TV series are imported to Germany, they're translated into German,
and the voices of the actors and actresses are replaced by German ones.
Voyager is scheduled to air on the German TV station SAT.1 in spring or
summer 1996. So far, there have been two German videotapes released. The
first one features "Caretaker" ("Der Fuersorger"), and the episodes on the
second one are "Parallax" ("Die Paralaxe") and "Time and Again"
("Subraumspalten"). Here are my comments on each of the main characters'
German voices:
	Janeway's German voice is nearly as deep and strong as Kate's own. During
the three episodes, the actress constantly improved herself, and she
reflects the different moods Janeway is in in a very good manner. One can
believe in her authority without any difficulty! The only thing she needs
to do is work on her "th"; the name "Kathryn Janeway" turns into "Kasryn
Janeway" in the German version. Why so many Germans have difficulties with
the "th" sound, I don't know! Chakotay:'s German voice is also well-chosen,
although a little too rough sometimes, and possibly a bit too old. But in
general, he also does a good job in performing Robert Beltran's way of
inflecting moods into his speech. Tuvok definately sounds too young, but
the actor managed to lower his voice so he imitates Tuvok's deep, handsome
voice more closely in the later episodes than in "Caretaker". Also, he
sounds a little too emotional sometimes.
	For Paris, the responsible people chose an actor with a voice very close
to Robert Duncan McNeill's. He also reflects Paris' emotional states of
mind quite well, be they excited, ironic or whatever. Well done so far!
Kim's German voice, on the other hand, definately lacks the excitement
Harry feels in many situations. Also, his tension when carrying out orders
isn't that well reflected. But otherwise, his voice fits Garrett Wang's
quite closely. The German voice of Roxann Biggs-Dawson's Torres does a
better job interpreting B'Elanna's different frames of mind, be they of
Klingon rage, sarcasm or excitement.
	The Doctor is also a good choice of a German voice actor. He tries to
understand the character he's representing. The doctor's annoyance,
agitation, sarcasm and other inflictions are well represented. The German
actor who is Ethan Phillips' voice definitely overdoes it! Not only does
Neelix sound like a sissy, but the performer also stretches almost every
word Neelix says to an extent that isn't funny any more. This actor ought
to watch a few episodes to learn more about Neelix! (By the way: The
singing we hear in "Caretaker" when Neelix takes a bath and Tuvok enters
the quarters is left intact in the German version! The dialogue is
continued in German as Tuvok says: "Sir?")
	Kes is one of the worst choices ever made when lending German voices to a
Star Trek character. Absolutely nothing is made to make the German voice
sound as calm and deep as Jennifer Lien's. In fact, the German Kes sounds
like a cheeky teenager, and everything she says sounds more like a fight
with a parent than a mature statement we are used to from the "real" Kes.
To her credit, however, I must admit that the actress did a good job in
performing the scene in "Time and Again", where Kes tries to explain to
Neelix what she saw in her sleep. You really believe her tears! But all in
all, I'm convinced the actress will have to better her performance to a
great extent!
	All in all, the responsible people paid more attention to the characters
on Voyager than any other Star Trek series. Starting with TNG where some of
the main characters were really badly chosen in the German versions,
they've been constantly improving, on DS9 where people like Garak and Gul
Dukat are simply great, to Voyager where even the minor characters are good
actors and actresses.
	The following is a list of titles available in Germany to date. I've
translated them back from the German, so they make sense to you. Enjoy!

Original title		German title		Back-translated title
============ 		============		================
Caretaker			Der Fuehrsorger		The welfare worker
Parallax			Die Parallaxe		The parallax
Time and Again		Subraumspalten		Subspace Fractures
Phage				Transplantationen		Transplants
The Cloud			Der mysterioese Nebel 	The Mysterious Nebula
Eye of the Needle		Das Nadeloehr 		Eye of the Needle
Ex Post Facto		Die Augen des Toten	The Dead Man's Eyes
Emanations			Das Unvorstellbare	The Unimaginable
Prime Factors		Das oberste Gesetz	The Prime Law
State Of Flux		Der Verrat			The Betrayal
Heroes & Demons		Helden und Daemonen	Heroes & Demons
Cathexis			Bewusstseinsverlust	Loss of Consciousness
Faces				Angesicht zu Angesicht	Face to Face
Jetrel			Dr. Jetrells Experiment Dr. Jetrel's Experiment
Learning Curve		Erfahrungswerte		Value of Experiences
Projections			Das Holo Syndrom		The Holo-Syndrome
Elogium			Elogium			Elogium
Twisted			Die Raumverzerrung	The Spatial Distortion
The 37's			Die 37er			The 37's
Initiations			Der Namenlose		The Nameless
Non Sequitur		Der Zeitstrom		The Time Stream
Parturition			Der Hoellenplanet		Planet Hell
Persistence of Vision  	Raetselhafte Vision	Mysterious Vision
____________________________________________________



This was the inspiration for "Neelix's Online Advice Column," and, we sort
of suspect, for  parts of the episode "Investigations"!

TUVOK'S PSYCHIC HOTLINE
By Jeff Long

NEELIX: Greetings, shipmates. First off, I'd like to thank Mr. Kim for
getting the shipwide intercom back in service in time for tonight's
broadcast. As your morale officer, I'm well aware how much you all look
forward to these nightly shows. I can't imagine why the whole system went
down so unexpectedly last night...
TUVOK: Indeed. Nor I.
NEELIX: It was the strangest thing, don't you think Mr. Vulcan? Er, Mr.
Tuvok? I was only three hours into the show, when the whole system went
offline. I was in here babbling to myself for 20 minutes before I realized
no one could hear a thing outside this room..
TUVOK: It was the most relaxing 20 minutes I've had for the past several
evenings.
NEELIX: Hmm? What was that, Mr. Tuvok? I was scanning my notes for
tonight's show and didn't catch that.
TUVOK: I said, the problem was no doubt related to the systems failures we
experienced when your cheese infected the ship's bio-neural circuitry.
NEELIX: Uhh, well, yes. That could be. Let's move on, shall we? Friends,
tonight we have a special guest on "The Neelix Feel-Good Show." I'm sure he
needs no introduction. He's my second favorite pointy-eared being on this
ship: Let's have a warm welcome for Lt. Tuvok, Voyager's most able chief of
security.
TUVOK: I am...That is to say, I am most...Well. I am here.
NEELIX: I was terribly disappointed when Captain Janeway told me she
couldn't be my guest tonight because of that urgent problem down in...uh,
where was it?
TUVOK: The toilet on deck 13 is clogged again and she wanted to see that a
repair team got to it immediately.
NEELIX: Yes, that was it. But I was absolutely surprised and delighted when
she told me that Mr. Tuvok would be taking her place with me for the
evening.
TUVOK: I, too, was surprised.
NEELIX: Let's get to it, shall we?
TUVOK: Get to what, exactly, Mr. Neelix? When the captain...requested...my
presence here, she failed to inform me what I would be doing.
NEELIX: Friends, we have a treat tonight indeed. I've been studying all the
races of the Federation in great detail since you so graciously allowed me
to join your quest. And during those studies I learned that Vulcans are
telepathic to a degree.
TUVOK: That is not exactly...
NEELIX: Correct me if I'm wrong, but most telepaths have the ability to
predict the future.
TUVOK: Certainly there is no evidence that supports such a wild leap...
NEELIX: And since the future is what preoccupies so many of our intrepid
crewmates, I thought it would be nice for Mr. Tuvok here to share some of
his insights about the journey that lies ahead of us.
TUVOK: Mr. Neelix, your facts are in grave error. I have no ability...
NEELIX: So, our lines are open. If you have a question for "Tuvok's Psychic
Hotline," punch your communicator pin now.
TUVOK: Really, Mr. Neelix, this is most absurd...
NEELIX: We have our first caller! You're on the air.
PARIS: I'd like to know if I'll ever nail the Delaney sisters.
NEELIX: A little blunt, but a fine question nonetheless. So far from home,
many of our shipmates are beginning to think about long-term relationships.
Wedding bells may be in the future for more than a few of our colleagues.
PARIS: Oh, it doesn't have to be anything long-term. An hour or two would
be fine.
NEELIX: Oh, my.
TUVOK: I suggest you confine your illicit affairs to the holodeck, Mr.
Paris. Shipboard flings such as you are implying can bring nothing but harm
to a crew in our situation.
NEELIX: Do you sense something, Mr. Tuvok? A broken heart--two broken
hearts--and a dead Mr. Paris lying bloodily in an access corridor? Perhaps
his body being blasted out an airlock? I must check my inventory of butcher
knives as soon as we finish here.
TUVOK: Nothing of the sort.
NEELIX: More gruesome than that even? Well, best not to dwell on it then.
Heed Mr. Tuvok's advice, young man. Ahh. We have another caller.
KIM: I just wanted to say that I was ordered to repair the shipwide
intercom system for security reasons.
NEELIX: Mr. Kim, I've already mentioned how grateful we all are for your
speedy attention to the failing intercom. What happened to it, by the way?
KIM: Uhhh...accidental phaser discharge. Twenty of them.
TUVOK: Any chance of it being repeated, Mr. Kim?
KIM: Possibly. In fact, the Delaney sisters are...HEY! I spent six hours on
that this afternoo...                     ***bzzzt***


TOP 10 REASONS JANEWAY WEARS HER HAIR UP
By MAURryan

10.	It's easier to manage during Kazon attacks.
9.	When the Maquis joined Voyager, everyone agreed on "one ship, one crew,
one bun."
8. 	It's the secret hiding place for Voyager's command codes.
7.  	By using her hair bun, Neelix doesn't need to replicate Brillo pads.
6.  	It's really her secret pet Tribble.
5.  	She hates when her hair gets caught in temporal disturbances.
4.  	Her DNA was merged with Mayberry's Aunt Bea during an unfortunate
transporter accident.
3.  	When she didn't have the bun, only Lt. Paris was interested.
2.  	Tuvok laughed when she tried the Kazon hairstyle.
1.	Last time she let it down, Neelix harvested it for hair pasta.


TOP 10 REASONS JANEWAY AND CHAKOTAY GIVE FOR LEAVING VOYAGER AND RETURNING
TO NEW EARTH
By JackieLeb

10.	Janeway was this close to getting Chakotay to model her towel for her.
9.	They need to rescue their primate friend, who was captured by a band of
monkeys.
8. 	Janeway is homesick for Chakotay's cuisine after she samples the nth
version of Neelix's "Breast of Leola Root."
7.  	They don't want to deprive Tuvok from receiving the annual "most
anal-retentive captain" award.
6.  	Janeway fears for her life when she discovers that B'Elanna purposely
turned the safety controls off to her gothic holonovel program.
5.  	Janeway fears for her life when she discovers that B'Elanna purposely
turned the safety controls off to Neelix's cooking.
4.  	They need to rescue their tomato plants, which they claim are being
eaten by a band of monkeys.
3.  	They haven't finished playing out their version of "Spanking the Monkey."
2.  	Janeway misses Chakotay's "angry warrior" stories--the only Indian
legends she can get him to tell her on Voyager involve cutting out and
eating Cardassian body parts.
1.  	They both swear that they left the bath water running!


**BOOKS AND COLLECTIBLES**

POCKET BOOKS PUBLISHING SCHEDULE

July '96 		VOY	#9: 	Final Fury			by Daffyd Ab Hugh
Sept '96 		VOY  	(PB)	Flashback			by Diane Carey
			VOY 	(HB)	Mosaic			by Jeri Taylor
Nov '96		VOY	#10 	Bless The Beast		by Karen Haber
Jan '97		VOY	#11 	The Garden			by Melissa Scott

	Final Fury is the last book in the four-part Invasion series spanning all
four Treks; the first three are First Strike (TOS), The Soldiers of Fear
(TNG), and Time's Enemy (DS9).
	The story for Flashback, based on the episode of the same name, was
pitched by Now Voyager's own Juliann Medina and scripted by Brannon Braga.
Hyped as "The 30th Anniversary episode that spans the generations," it's
about how Tuvok's experiences serving with Captain Sulu and Janice Rand on
the Starship Excelsior come back to haunt him 100 years later, putting
himself and Janeway in danger.
	Executive Producer Jeri Taylor's long-awaited hardback Mosaic tells the
life story of Kathryn Janeway, in the form of a flashback when the captain
of Voyager must make a terrible decision in the heat of battle. Kate
Mulgrew will lend her voice to the audiobook.

STAR TREK VOYAGER #8:  CYBERSONG
by S. N. Lewitt

	The latest installment in the Voyager series may also be the dumbest book
of the bunch. I found some of the earlier novels tedious, but it took me
six weeks to get through this one. I always try to find something positive
to say, but I can't think of anything good to say about this novel.
	We are treated to a new and original storyline about a computer with
seemingly malevolent intent. This AI wants company, so it tries to trap
unsuspecting vessels by creating environments similar to their own. It taps
into the computer files and finds out about its visitors, and then tries to
snare them in its web. Unfortunately, our intrepid space travelers make the
rather silly assumption that they have a Cardassian agent among them who is
sabotaging their own computer. I like Seska, but I've had my fill of
Cardassian doublecrossers and traitors in the last two seasons. Do I really
need to see this in a novel?
	And then we have new character Daphne Mandel, an awful stereotype of a
geek programmer with zero personalilty. Someone tell author Lewitt that one
can like computers and be a real person too. I thought this
characterization was stupid, pointless, and obsolete. Peripheral characters
can be interesting if there is some valid reason for them to be in a Trek
novel, but I found absolutely no point in Ms. Mandel's presence. When I
find myself keeping a tally of the number of times it's mentioned that
Mandel has no personality or someone dislikes her, I know there's a
problem, especially at the cost of ignoring the compelling storyline.
Daphne appears in the middle of the book. She is not gradually introduced;
there is a brute force chunk of exposition, so the reader is never given a
chance to care about this woman or what happens to her. She has absolutely
no redeeming quality and if ever someone shrieked "Red Shirt," she does.
Bless the author for deciding to drop her off and make her an Ambassador.
Please, please, don't write a sequel about her, OK? Her entire premise as
the expert programmer could have been filled by Ol' One Dimensional Harry
Kim, the second-best programmer on the ship. If ever a character needed
some personality, it's Harry. He doesn't get it on the show, so the least
the literary world could do is help the poor boy out.
	The author did a decent job writing Tuvok, Neelix and Tom Paris, but
that's not saying much. Tuvok and Neelix were annoying (as usual) and Tom
was just playing his usual role of the best damn pilot on the ship. You get
the picture. The rest of the characters might as well have been replaced by
their cardboard counterparts. We got a lot of repetitive statements,
technobabble, dramatic shifts in point of view, and lousy editing.
	This writer has clearly not spent a lot of time watching the show. Case in
point: I sincerely doubt that B'Elanna Torres ever had a warm and fuzzy
Christmas with her paternal grandparents, since we know from "Faces" that
her human father left when Torres was 5. Yet, at the age of 8, according to
Lewitt, she was visiting Grandma and Grandpa on Earth. I also believe that
Torres has a sense of humor, but we later see the others laugh at her
expense when she reveals an encrypted message about spies.
	What other problems can I point out? We get endless conversations where
the speaker is not always identified. I am a big proponent of dialogue, but
it should be clear who is doing the talking. There is the identification of
some of the female officers as "Ms. Torres" or "Ms. Mandel", but I really
burst out laughing when Tuvok referred to Chakotay as "Mr. Chakotay". No
one on the show uses this naming system. And since when did Tuvok got a
promotion to Commander? That's news to me, but the author says so on page
148.
	Anyway, I don't recommend this book. It's a low point in the Voyager
series. Let's look forward to Jeri Taylor's release this fall and hope that
Pocket Books gets their act together and starts signing some better
writers.

---Elizabeth Klisiewicz

	The eighth Voyager novel, Cybersong, in my opinion ranks up with beautiful
novels like The Murdered Sun or The Escape. There's a good story with a
message, good character work, and--what I liked most about this novel--it
showed not only the usual characters in the thick of things, but focussed
on Kes, too, which I found a welcome new variation. Her interaction isn't
limited to the Doctor, Captain Janeway, and Neelix. Also, the fact that
there are hardly any space battles (aside from an explosion which almost
catches a shuttle), and that the alien antagonist is an artificial
intelligence, contribute to the refreshing nature of this novel.
	The basic storyline is relatively straightforward: Voyager encounters a
tachyon field. After a brief analysis of distant ship wreckage and the
reception of an alien transmission, Janeway decides not to investigate
further. But as Voyager attempts to cruise along on its path, it becomes
evident that something has gone wrong with their computer. Navigation and
engines don't respond to any commands whatsoever. In addition, Kes and
Chakotay experience sensations of loneliness and anger, and both have the
distinct feeling that the events they connect these feelings with are real,
but the emotions themselves don't seem to originate from within them.
	After more investigating, it becomes more and more evident that the alien
transmission has somehow altered the main operating system of Voyager's
computer. With Kim on an away mission, a programmer from stella cartography
is asked to do programming and debugging. Tuvok, meanwhile, investigates
the possibility of a Cardassian spy...
	The turn of events is really well plotted, and the novel kept me on the
edge of my seat--so to speak--until the very end! The solution is
brilliant, though not new, as well. And it's typically Trek.

--Marco Zehe

OTHER COLLECTIBLES

	The second set of Playmates Voyager action figures are out, including
Maquis Chakotay, Klingon Torres, Bajoran Seska, Lt. Carey, a Kazon, and a
Vidiian.  The Hamilton Collection's first Voyager plate is also available
now; it features Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, the Doctor, and the ship.  And
next month, Hallmark's Star Trek holiday ornaments will be released for
sale in stores, including a Voyager which lights up when attached to
Christmas lights.


**KATHRYN JANEWAY, FEMINIST HEROINE**

Warning: anti-J/C sentiment follows!  Or maybe "sentiment" is the wrong
word. At any rate, in the interests of equal time...

THE  ANGRY  WARRIOR:  JANEWAY'S  AUTHORITY AND  CHAKOTAY'S  HONOR
by L.R. Bowen

 	"Just what were you thinking?" Janeway asks Chakotay at the end of
"Maneuvers," the episode in which he takes it on himself to remedy Seska's
theft of Federation transporter technology. Without the captain's
permission, he steals a shuttle and launches a sneak attack on a Kazon
ship, completing his objective but getting himself captured as well.
Janeway must then decide whether to rescue him or treat him as a casualty
as he requests. When he is finally recovered and Janeway gives him a piece
of her mind, he says almost nothing to explain himself. He seems to sense
that any justification he can give will not serve as an excuse in her eyes,
and he may feel the same way himself. Much of his motive for acting on his
own seems to be his personal bitterness against his traitorous ex-lover,
but why did he carry out his plan exactly the way he did? Why did he act
alone? Why did he seem to forget that he is subject to Janeway's authority
and as first officer should set an example? What was he thinking? His
background, so different from his captain's, may shed some light on the
question.
	Janeway, as a Starfleet captain, is working from a descendant of traditiona
l Western command structure, with modifications introduced by the 24th
century and her own personality; directed consensus, with clear procedures
and a single final authority, strictly obeyed. She expects to oversee a
group of well-trained people all operating from the same rulebook,
individuals but sharing many common assumptions from their Starfleet
training. Chakotay as a Maquis captain operated substantially from a
completely different tradition, that of the ad hoc war leader or "chief."
He directed a grab bag of rebels with widely varying motives and abilities
and very little training of any kind. The most he could hope to do was hold
them together for the immediate goal by any means necessary.  He's been
shown physically assaulting an insubordinate member of his former crew,
something unthinkable for a regular Starfleet officer, but which the
witnesses accept as justified. The Maquis resemble to some extent a native
war party or premodern army, one drawn from the available individuals for
the occasion and destined to fall apart once the goal is achieved. It's
difficult for the band to maintain any larger picture. Individual honor and
tribal identification tend to be more important than obeying the orders of
the highest commander. The model of premodern warfare and victory is
different from the standard with which Westerners are familiar. Large ideas
of strategy and policy are not the point. The fast raid (such as to steal
horses), with as few casualties as possible, and the naked physical bravery
of facing the enemy in person are the ideals. The Native American tradition
Chakotay grew up in is suffused with tales of warriors counting coup with
bare hand or stick and returning to their people's acclaim.
	Chakotay's Starfleet training works against this tendency, and probably
accounted for his apparent success as a Maquis leader. It is no accident
that the greatest Indian war chiefs, respected by the regular US Army
forces fighting them, were those who could mold their warriors into a
cohesive fighting force in the Western style. Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse
defeated Custer at Little Bighorn with an adaptation of regular cavalry
tactics to their own needs. Their followers had to abandon a preference for
showy bravery and simply work together to kill as many of the enemy as
possible. When every fighter is out for himself, trying to gain individual
honor at the cost of the entire effort, a well-drilled, intelligently
commanded unit will nearly always defeat them in pitched battle. Although
we have seen few details of the DMZ conflict in Star Trek, the Maquis
probably have avoided Cardassian destruction only because of their
guerrilla tactics and their large complement of former Starfleet officers.
	But Starfleet procedure is not in accordance with Chakotay's natural
instincts and inclinations. He is perfectly capable of operating in
Starfleet style, as he is a veteran of the system, and he does so most of
the time. But when Seska returns to taunt and attack, putting her personal
knowledge to devastating use, something cracks. He feels directly
responsible for everything she does, though even Torres points out that he
is not. When Chakotay is challenged so deeply as a warrior, as an officer,
as a man, he reverts to his heritage, his earliest model of conflict, the
one inculcated in childhood and most suited to his individualistic
temperament. Janeway calls him a "cowboy", which gets her point across, but
emphasizes the fact that he is an Indian, as most viewers will instantly
have associated with the phrase. He grew up in a highly traditional colony,
one that has actively rejected Western thinking, although it does not
engage in warfare. But his basic thought processes were probably formed by
tales of his ancestors and by an ancient language and culture. He rejected
the strong bond of his tribe as a young man, but probably retains the
ideals of the native warrior, and has tried to return to the ways of his
father, more passionately than if he had taken them for granted all his
life.
	Seska's raid arouses all those instincts, along with the overlaid
Starfleet ideas. Chakotay's motivations are complex, with many layers;
concern for the safety of Voyager's crew, agreement with Janeway's top
priority of keeping Federation technology out of Kazon hands, anger at
Seska's betrayal of her Maquis comrades, as voiced by Torres, bitterness at
his personal betrayal by a lover, and his humiliation at her public
taunting, driving him to avenge his honor and pride. His original plan does
not call for him to die, but to make a quick raid and get out,
accomplishing his goal of destroying the stolen transporter and counting
coup on Seska. When he is discovered and his equipment damaged, he decides
to complete his objective anyway at the probable cost of his life, but
redeeming his honor in the process. That is why he hands his phaser to
Seska with a flourish after destroying the transporter--in his mind, he's
finished anyway, has done everything he needed to do and should go to his
death with style. The Starfleet training is operating here, as well as the
personal ideals of "a gentle man, from a gentle people." He has no
intention of killing Seska in cold blood or of taking as many Kazon with
him as he can, as some viewers thought he should have done. To walk up to
her, demonstrate that he could have killed her, and then surrender is the
act which redeems his honor in his own eyes. And, yes, it's snide and
nose-thumbing and self-satisfied, which is the whole point. The ideal of
the native warrior was to die well if captured, taunting his torturers to
the last, which Chakotay does. Even while he is beaten and drugged, he
vents his bitterness with characteristic dry humor, trying to undermine
Seska's obviously precarious position with the Kazon. That his crude cracks
about her bedside manner also express his own anger at her gives the scene
an intensity seldom seen on Star Trek.
	All of Chakotay's motives come together here. He emerges as a powerfully
drawn character at last, deeply flawed as well as brave and spiritual. This
man is a fatalist of the highest order, and truly does not seem to care
about his own life when certain things are in the balance. He was capable
of piloting one ship into another to save Voyager, with an excellent chance
he would die as a result. Showy bravery indeed! That risk paid off, but it
could easily have ended in disaster. Janeway's position as captain of the
mixed crews would be significantly less viable without his backup, but he
does not take that into account either at the time of "Caretaker" or during
"Maneuvers," underestimating the value of his life to the morale of the
crew when he takes off secretly and asks not to be rescued. He does not
want anyone else to go into danger for him, which seems noble, but at the
same time he rejects cooperation with others that might have been a less
risky course. Chakotay lacks the true connection to the group and ideals of
discipline that Janeway possesses. He is basically a loner and an
introvert, cut off by his own actions from both his tribal heritage and his
career as a Starfleet officer, a "contrary" as his father put it but trying
to find his path between the different world views, sometimes stumbling in
this unknown territory. He hasn't found a way to subordinate his personal
honor to his larger goals.
	Chakotay's loyalty is based strongly on Janeway as a person and not on
Starfleet command protocol. The very reason he follows her is the reason he
bypasses her. He can give her his entire loyalty when she's demonstrated
her superiority, forgetting his own captaincy and yielding to her greater
abilities, but he can also toss aside procedure and simply do what he
thinks is right without clearing it with anyone. If he had proposed his
scheme to her, she would probably have vetoed it, and actually breaking a
direct order would have cost him too much. He may not be capable of that,
but he certainly is capable, as is Tuvok (in "Prime Factors"), of making an
end run around her to do what he wants to do and believes would ultimately
benefit her. Janeway is a stronger Starfleet officer than Chakotay, because
of her ability to rise above her personal inclinations for the good of the
group and to serve the ideals she believes in, and he is drawn to her
charisma and clarity of purpose, which cuts through his own tangled web of
motivation and gives him a focus. But since his thinking is based on the
individual, when his own personal demons come so strongly into play as with
Seska, he is vulnerable.
	"Basics," at the end of the second season, holds out hope that Chakotay
has learned his lesson. Seska calls in her gamble, her claim that she has
conceived Chakotay's child, and begs for assistance. What is his answer?
"This is not my responsibility!" He's furious that she can try to
manipulate him again, knowing his powerful inclination to his kin
relationships, and his immediate reaction is based on his lingering anger
from his last encounter with her. Janeway has to ask him to think this over
carefully--she knows more about him now, and that he may regret rejecting
his supposed son. Their long stay on New Earth may have allowed Janeway and
Chakotay to understand far more of each other's personality and principles.

	Chakotay reconnects to a deep part of himself when he asks for guidance
and finally reaches the corner of his spirit where his dead father dwells.
But now he can see the crew of Voyager as his family, his tribe, and accept
their wholehearted help. When he says to the others, "There is one more
thing... Thank you," after the meeting that plans the child's rescue, all
his mistakes in "Maneuvers" are remedied. Of course, the risk to the ship
is the same one he feared when he acted alone in the first place, and this
time his nightmare comes true because Seska has planned even more carefully
than she did the first time. But he hasn't created a bad situation with his
own recklessness. He's carrying out the imperatives of his heritage and
personality, but with the permission and cooperation of the Starfleet
family he joined and helps to lead. He's no longer a lone warrior, but a
cohesive part of Janeway's crew.

JANEWAY/CHAKOTAY--NO WAY!
by Barbe Smith

	For months I have read with interest here and on the net the compelling
reasons why Captain Janeway should allow herself the indulgence of a
romantic relationship with her First Officer. Personally, I relish every
double entendre and gleam of the eye that flashes between those two. Yet,
while my romantic heart beat wildly during "Resolutions," there was still a
rational part of me that cringed at this course of events.
	I suppose my reservations arise from the fact that I'm viewing each
episode not only from the point of view of a mature female devotee, but
with the additional comments of members of the prime demographic group. And
while Now Voyager members eloquently debate the pros and cons of Starfleet
policy as it applies to the Delta Quadrant, and whether a mature sexual
relationship is possible in the 24th century, I am watching with a
testosterone-befuddled teenager and his friends who merely snicker that of
course they would "Do It"--why have a good-looking male & female in the
lead roles otherwise?
	Now, mind you, this attitude goes well beyond Star Trek. After all, with
the sole exception of the Scully/Mulder relationship on X Files, where can
you find adults of the opposite sex working together without the
ratings-grabbing "sexual tension" ploy constantly being called into play? I
am striving to raise children who will see past exteriors, and prepare them
to participate in a workplace made up of diverse individuals--not potential
sexual partners. Certainly TV is not making this easier on me; after a few
hours of nightly viewing, you would think that all those briefcases we see
being carried on the streets must be filled with condoms!
	You may say that boys will be boys--no matter what the writers put on,
they will always snicker and look for baser interests. You could also say
that while a celibate relationship might have been possible, the
all-too-obvious electricity between Kate Mulgrew's portrayal of Janeway and
Robert Beltran's portrayal of Chakotay make that unthinkable now.
Certainly, there is the dilemma of whether it's worthwhile re-locking the
barn door at this late hour.
	Yet I feel that there is still the opportunity to create a relationship
far beyond a sexual one--not a Picard/Crusher ever-present but buried
beneath the surface type, but a deepening understanding and friendship that
allows not only more conversation but more conflict between the two. In
time perhaps it could broaden to include a physical relationship.
"Resolutions" was a wonderful show--it just came several seasons too early.
As a result, the writers have the unenviable task of deciding a future
course which has drawbacks no matter what the direction.
	If you ask my vote, count me in on the side of friendship rather than
romance. Whether in the enlightened 24th century or not, romance on the
job, especially in a military environment, should not be undertaken
lightly. Nor do I think that Janeway will be perceived as less of a woman
without a bed partner. There's an opportunity to show a positive (and
accurate) image of women in leadership to a massive number of young men in
the audience who are still developing values--let's make it count! (Of
course, that doesn't mean I'll quit reading the J/C stories; a girl has to
have a few fantasies, you know!)

SEX, LIES, AND HOLONOVELS: THE CONUNDRUM OF JANEWAY'S SEXUALITY
by Jennifer Pelland (Siubhan)

	Kathryn Janeway is a sexual person, or so we have been lead to believe. So
why are the writers so afraid to explore her sexuality without piling on
heaping helpings of guilt? Is it that they're afraid we can't deal with a
sexual woman in power without being reminded of Mata Hari? Or are the
writers afraid of the inevitable comparisons to romance novels and soap
operas? Or maybe it belies another sort of guilt, the guilt that all sexual
women are dealt by society.
	Most people are sexual, and, as I said, Janeway is no exception; by
creating the character of Mark, the producers solidly put Janeway into the
category. She's not celibate, nor does she want to be. This is not a point
of contention. She has also been written as very much monogamous, although
I suspect this is mostly due to sexual conventions of the late twentieth
century. If the writers were content to have her occasionally exhibit how
much she misses Mark, that would be wonderful. She could miss him, but be
strong and unwavering in her decision to remain faithful, and it would fit
her character beautifully.
	But instead we are treated to constant displays of Janeway's sexual
weakness. There's her drippy holonovel with Lord Burleigh. There's the time
she tearfully declared her faithfulness to a hallucination of Mark. There's
her on-again, off-again flirtations with Fabulous French aliens and
Chakotay.
	Chakotay...so much has been written about pairing Janeway and Chakotay.
Should they or shouldn't they, or more recently, did they or didn't they?
The bulk of writing on the subject defends their possible union, but of
late I have found myself disagreeing. Why? First of all, I think it would
best suit Janeway to remain unwaveringly faithful for several more years.
And why not? Why give up on someone that you adore and love and have built
a beautiful, lasting relationship with when you have no idea if you'll be
home tomorrow or seventy years from now? Does she love Mark? If the answer
is truly "yes", then I want to see the wavering stop and her backbone
reappear.
	Should she remain faithful for seventy years? No, that would be
ridiculous. When she starts to question her relationship with Mark, I want
to see it expressed not as doe-eyed guilt, but boldly. Have her sit down
with Kes, who is somewhat outside the chain of command, and unload her
conflicting feelings of loyalty and fading love. Have her rail to Lord
Burleigh about how much she misses being touched by a lover's hands. Have
her have a steamy and guilt-free affair with a beautiful alien that shocks
her into the realization that she no longer feels tethered to Mark.
	But there are reasons for not pairing her off with Chakotay. At first he
seemed the natural candidate: strong, self- assured, centered, but since
then he's become something of a Rambo. I should have seen it coming when he
punched Dalby and called it "the Maquis way," but when he went after Seska
on his own and "selflessly" asked that Voyager not follow him, he suddenly
became the most selfish character on the show. And I have to admit that
Janeway is right--it is dangerous for a Captain to date a member of the
crew. Picard learned this the hard way on TNG, and while the "sexless
Captain" ideal is not one I would like to see continued, it does not come
from a vacuum. Imagine the danger if the captain and first officer were
romantically involved. So many decisions would be second-guessed, so many
emotions would clog up the chain of command. Both his personality and his
position make Chakotay an untenable candidate.
	What I would like to eventually see, several years into the show's run, is
Janeway develop a relationship with someone outside the chain of command.
Who is to say that Voyager won't pick up more Delta Quadrant vagabonds? If
it weren't for his attachment to Kes (and a certain air of repugnance),
Neelix would be the perfect person to date Janeway. The same goes for Kes,
but it seems that Voyager is stuck in a heterosexual paradigm, so I'm not
about to hold my breath for that. Give Janeway someone aboard who has not
been folded into the Starfleet melting pot, whom she can love without
reservation or restraint. She deserves it. No human being, no matter how
strong, should be expected to spend a life without love.
	But for now, let Janeway be unwaveringly faithful. It can be a source of
strength, not of conflict and despair. And then, when hope of getting home
soon is irrevocably lost, let her decide to take another lover with
strength and dignity and joy.

THE NON-J/C ARGUMENT
by Anne Davenport

	She looks at his lips when they're talking together. He looks at her
behind when she's bending over the pilot's controls, and then grins when
she notices. She grins back. The attraction is there. Now that they've
spent some significant time alone together, Janeway and Chakotay will pause
to think over which things between them draw them together and which ones
push them apart.
	Chakotay confessed unequivocal love to Janeway in "Resolutions." From his
roundabout 'ancient' legend, it appears that the depth and level of his
feelings for Janeway are a first for him, and he probably felt this way
long before he and the captain were stranded together on New Earth.
Chakotay has always been the active element of the pair. He's been doing
all the housework in trying to get along well with Janeway. He committed
his Maquis crew to her ship and Starfleet. After she'd mentioned in passing
that she'd be interesting in animal guides, he was up in her ready room
that afternoon with the medicine bundle that he hadn't ever shown to anyone
else.
	But there are no amorous pressures attached to any of Chakotay's actions.
He was alone with Janeway for months and, except for a little harmless
looking down her towel, he shared quarters with her like a brother. And he
seemed perfectly happy to keep doing so, not saying a word about his
feelings unless she noticed him. It's questionable that he would have said
anything to her if he and Janeway hadn't been forced together, away from
the ship. The intensity of the personal closeness Chakotay feels toward
Janeway outshines any speculations for a physical relationship he might
have.
	Janeway obviously didn't seriously think about a physical relationship
with him until she found out that Chakotay gave nice neck rubs and that she
was susceptible to them. After that she wanted to "define parameters"
between them...oooooh, how romantic of her. Janeway does not leap into
passion without thorough analysis. First of all, she is already committed
to someone else; she's a one-man woman, and Mark is still waiting back
home. Even if he doesn't know if she's still alive, she hasn't let go of
that relationship, and we saw in "Resolutions" how long it takes for her to
let go of anything. Her emotional attachment to Mark intertwines with her
desire to get her ship and crew home. A romance with Chakotay would be an
undeniable life change, and proof that she didn't really expect the ship to
get back to the Alpha Quadrant anytime soon.
	In "Resolutions" it took Janeway and Chakotay months just to talk about
their feelings for each other. Neither of them were in a hurry to add
physical passion to that, not when they thought they had the rest of their
lives together. They clasped hands and talked that first night, and
anything more would come in its own time. Left alone together, I'm sure
that it would have. But once they got the message that the ship was coming
back to rescue them, their situation changed.
	Back on the bridge, Janeway and Chakotay assumed their roles with tense
military precision, doing their best not to show the emotional shift they
were both going through. The decision had been made between them to keep
things strictly business, nor did they want anyone to suspect that they had
become as close as they had, lest anyone conclude that they were now
lovers. Chakotay had already expressed his reservations about the effects
of "fraternization" on ship operations in "Elogium." Janeway places her
role and responsibility as captain above any of her own personal needs.
Both are serious, dedicated individuals who have already proven that they
will sublimate every other personal detail in their lives to their chosen
cause: Janeway to science and her Starfleet career, Chakotay to his
father's world and the Maquis, which he gave up Starfleet for. On board
Voyager, the weight of their roles of commanders will squeeze out the
physical intimacy between them because they would risk conflicting their
life's passion with their passion for each other. Smooth command and ship
operations are a matter of survival for everyone on board. A love affair
between the captain and first officer would exist under huge constraints:
	--They can't fight, not publicly at least, and they would likely feel
inhibited about arguing about anything privately too keep it from becoming
public.
	--They can't get away from each other, whether they decide to share
quarters or not; Voyager isn't any bigger than a large building.
	--Stuck in the Delta Quadrant, they can't really get away from the ship;
no long, planned vacations, no time alone together.
	--They have no long-term prospects for a life together, only the long-term
hope of getting home, where Chakotay is still a wanted criminal.
	These are the kinds of stresses that destroy relationships, no matter how
passionate the partners are. Even having people think that they might be
lovers lays some of these restraints on them. Janeway and Chakotay know the
strength of their feelings for each other, but they aren't going to stress
them this way. They will sadly leave what might have been on New Earth
behind and play it safe with their emotions. Janeway and Chakotay will care
deeply for each other, work together, and, after they've settled back in on
the ship, very privately discuss a few things. We might even hear Chakotay
say 'Kathryn' again, maybe even in front of other people. Their lives may
include near-death ship problems, alien mind-takeovers, and spatial-anomaly
crises that will move them closer together in ways that they cannot plan
for. But both of them will move to control their relationship first. That's
just who they are.


**COPYRIGHT VIOLATION CORNER**

Paramount owns Janeway and her animal guide, but since the producers have
been ignoring them, Alanna picked up their slack!

FINDING THE BALANCE
by Alanna Whitestar

	The sky was a clear green; the sun, a flattened disk of molten bronze
sitting just above the horizon. She stood on a beach of peach-colored sand,
a vast ocean to her left and luxuriant tropical foliage to her right. A
soft breeze, redolent with the smell of salt and green, growing things,
stirred her unbound hair. Frowning slightly, Captain Kathryn Janeway turned
and tried to get her bearings. There was something familiar about this
place, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. It was almost as if
she were seeing it from a different perspective...
	Her glance lingered for a moment on a nearby outcrop of colorfully
striated sandstone washed in gold by the sunrise. The clearly marked cross
bedding intrigued her, and she strode forward to examine it more closely.
When part of the rock moved, however, she froze, all her senses alert. Then
the rock moved again and she relaxed, recognizing the small lizard basking
in the early sunshine. Firedream, as he had named himself to her, turned
his head and gazed at her solemnly.
	"Hello," she whispered, kneeling to be at eye level with her animal guide.
"I haven't seen you for quite some time."
	You have not sought me out, he corrected, blinking with deceptive laziness.
	Kathryn felt her cheeks grow warm, and knew it was not just from the early
heat of the day. "No, I haven't, have I. Things have been so busy ...." Her
voice trailed off. The excuses she'd been about to make were just
that--excuses, and not very good ones, at that. She'd had plenty of
opportunity, but something always held her back.
	Firedream gave her a look of tender exasperation. You were not ready to
listen to advice from a source outside the boundaries of your rational
science and technology. But now, I think, the time has come. Look carefully
in this place; what you seek is here.
	"I don't understand. I'm not looking for anything."
	You should be, Firedream replied enigmatically, then disappeared.
	A soft but insistent chime vied with the sound of the ocean for her
attention. The forest, beach, sea, and sun wavered like a heat mirage and
were replaced by a nondescript gray ceiling and a window filled with stars.
	
	Kathryn took a deep breath and bolted upright in bed, blinking the sleep
from her eyes. "Lights," she commanded. Grabbing her peach robe, she strode
toward the computer terminal on her desk. "Computer, display the planet
we're orbiting--both hemispheres, day view."
	The two most recent sensor scans appeared, showing a young world that was
mostly ocean. There was one large landmass--reminiscent of Permian Earth's
Gondwana continent--and smaller proto-continents and volcanic island arcs.
Over the next hundred million years or so, Kathryn thought idly, they would
probably join up to form a Pangea-like supercontinent. But for once, the
usually fascinating study of a planet's geophysics and plate tectonics took
a back seat to a most unscientific feeling. Staring at the display, she
felt the same tugging she'd experienced four days ago when Ensign Kim had
discovered this world. Only now it was stronger, more insistent. It was as
if the planet were reaching out to her, compelling her to beam down to one
of the equator-straddling continent's numerous beaches.
	"Computer, display the night hemisphere only--in real time. Now, enlarge
and enhance grid 42." A single area of the continent appeared, and she
could feel the pull getting stronger as she narrowed her search, finally
zeroing in on one particular cove.
	"That's it," Kathryn murmured. "That's where I'm supposed to go and...find
something. Computer, how long before sunrise at this location?"
	"Sunrise will occur at 1320, ship's time."
	"Well, so much for that idea," she snorted, turning off the display. At
1300 she'd be meeting with Lieutenant Torres to discuss the chief
engineer's latest idea for optimizing the warp engines. Then Neelix wanted
to give her his report on the food supplies they'd gathered from the
planet, and after that she wanted to talk with the astrophysicists about
that new variable star they'd been studying. Voyager was due to remain in
orbit for a few days while the crew enjoyed shore leave. Maybe tomorrow she
could get away.
	Excuses, excuses, a niggling little voice in the back of her mind said.
"Not excuses; obligations," she snapped aloud, then glanced at the
chronometer. Good; there was enough time to take a quick run in one of the
personal holodecks before meeting Tuvok for breakfast. The exercise would
clear her mind and, hopefully, get rid of this annoying and irrational
compulsion. But as she peeled off her nightdress and pulled on a
single-piece exercise suit, the vivid image of the beach from her dream
returned. Pushing it firmly out of her mind, she strode out the door and
headed for deck six.

	To Kathryn's dismay, the early morning run fueled her restlessness rather
than reducing it. She found it almost impossible to sit still during
breakfast--a sharp contrast to Tuvok's unruffled calm. He'd been surprised,
though, when she refused a cup of coffee. His single raised eyebrow invited
an explanation for this extraordinary and uncharacteristic behavior, but
the fact was she didn't know why even the thought of her favorite beverage
made her nauseous. She wasn't hungry either, and barely touched her glass
of fruit juice.
	The antsiness followed her to the bridge like a playful puppy nipping at
her heels. Chakotay was already on duty, sitting in the left hand seat and
looking as serene and calm as Tuvok. In fact, everyone on the bridge seemed
relaxed and happy, so much so that Kathryn felt she'd go mad from the
general air of contentment. She stayed long enough to get an update on the
ship's status, then beat a hasty retreat to her ready room. Padds of all
sizes were stacked neatly on her desk, each containing the latest reports
from various departments. Choosing one at random, she carried it over to
her sitting area and began to read. But her gaze kept wandering to the
planet that hung like a bright jewel in the window. There, a little voice
kept murmuring to her. That's where you should be, where you need to be.
	By 0900 she couldn't stand it anymore, and decided to take an impromptu
tour of the ship. She prowled the lower decks, minutely examining every
piece of equipment in every laboratory, uncharacteristically oblivious to
crewmembers' anxiety over this unannounced, white-glove inspection. Her
frustration began to climb, but it didn't occur to her until the turbolift
doors opened on the bridge that she'd been looking for something, and
hadn't found it--because what she sought wasn't on the ship.
	This is ridiculous, Kathryn thought irritably. We've been in orbit for
days, and will stay here for a few more. Why this obsessive need to beam
down today? Was Firedream somehow compelling her, forcing her to go to the
place in her dream? No; that couldn't be. It was contrary to everything
Chakotay had told her about how animal guides interacted with those they
chose to be with. But something was calling her with a siren song that was
becoming harder and harder to resist.
	"Captain, is something wrong?"
	Tuvok's words snapped her back to reality. How long had she been standing
there, staring at the main screen? Seconds? Minutes? Everyone's attention
was focused on her, and on every face was a look of concern. Taking a deep
breath, she forced herself to smile.
	"Everything's fine; I was just admiring the view," she replied briskly,
stepping down to the command deck. "Commander, I'd like to speak to you for
a moment in my ready room. Mr. Tuvok, you have the bridge."
	As Kathryn entered her ready room, the sight of the real planet, as
opposed to the sensor image on the main screen, struck her like a blow to
the solar plexus. It took all her willpower to remain upright and walk,
seemingly unconcerned, to the seats beneath the window. Hearing the doors
swoosh behind her, she motioned for Chakotay to join her.
	"I lied just now," she began quietly when they were both seated.
"Everything is not fine, and hasn't been since early this morning. And it
has something to do with my animal guide." Without giving him time to
comment, she told him about her dream.
	The commander listened intently to her narrative, his expression
thoughtful. When she finished, he said slowly, "What you've described is
very common among my people. You're being called to undertake a quest, to
find a fetish. But your animal guide isn't compelling you; what you're
feeling is coming from within. From your spirit."
	"But I'm not one of your people, Chakotay," Kathryn protested, standing and beginning to pace. "I don't even know what a...a fetish is. And as for a quest, I simply don't have the time."
	"Why not?" he countered. "For the first time in months, there's not a
Kazon in sight, the ship is running smoothly, and we're orbiting a
beautiful planet. The rest of the crew is enjoying shore leave; why can't
the Captain do the same?"
	"I was planning to beam down sometime tomorrow, or the day after. I've got
meetings all afternoon --"
	"Can't they be postponed?" he interrupted.
	"That's not the point! I still feel like I'm being compelled, and I will
not give in to it!" She halted abruptly at the sound of soft chuckling.
Chakotay was grinning--almost ruefully, she thought. Crossing her arms and
narrowing her eyes, she asked coolly, "You find this amusing, Commander?"
	"No. I was just remembering the first time this happened to me. I felt
exactly the way you do now. I was 16 and spending all my time studying for
the Academy entrance exams, and the last thing I wanted to do was go
harrowing off on some crazy search. So, I dug in my heels and refused to
go. But the more I tried to ignore it, the stronger the feeling became--and
the angrier I became."
	"I'm not angry; I'm just frustrated!" she snapped. Chakotay raised his
eyebrows in mute question, and Kathryn took a deep breath to force herself
to relax. "All right; maybe I am," she finally admitted. "How did you cope
with these feelings?"
	Chakotay shrugged. "I gave in--but only after arguing with my father for
days." His grin faded and his eyes seemed to look past her, as if he were
seeing the events of long ago. "He insisted that all the energy I was
putting into anger and frustration would be better spent on the quest. To
make matters worse, my animal guide agreed with him. I felt I had no
choice."
	His voice trailed off and his expression became more thoughtful. Quietly,
Kathryn sat beside him, not wanting to disturb his thoughts. "When I
finally did go," he continued slowly, "my father insisted on going with
me--something I resented at the time. I thought he just wanted to be sure I
adhered to traditional ways, but I was wrong. He gave me guidance and
encouragement when I needed it. I'm afraid I was only grudgingly grateful,
but the truth is I probably would have stumbled around for days if he
hadn't been with me."
	"And how did you feel, once you'd found whatever it was you were looking for?"
	"At peace. As though I'd found a part of myself I never knew was missing.
It was the river stone I keep in my medicine bundle. I often use it during
meditation and ritual, as a focus."
	"A focus," Kathryn murmured, then admitted, "Maybe that s what I need. I
haven't been meditating much lately, because every time I try, I fall
asleep."
	Chakotay grinned suddenly, his eyes taking on an impish gleam. "Perhaps
that's why your animal guide wants you to find this fetish."
	"That's the second time you've used that word. What exactly is a fetish?"
	"It's a natural object--a feather, a stone, a sea shell--that has personal
meaning for you."
	"And you're saying that's what is calling to me," she said slowly. When
the commander nodded, she stood and began to pace again. It was one thing
to put off studying for exams, but quite another to neglect her duties as
captain. Her scheduled meetings with B'Elanna and Neelix were every bit as
important as whatever was down on that planet. Although, she admitted
reluctantly, given her current frame of mind, she wasn't sure how receptive
she'd be to her chief engineer and morale officer. Mentally, she sighed.
Perhaps Chakotay was right, and the meetings could be postponed by a day.
Excuses, excuses, she heard again. Are you making excuses now to indulge
your desire to beam down to the planet, just as you made excuses earlier
not to?  She halted her pacing and stood still for a moment, equally
balanced between the two choices--to stay or go; to fulfill her obligations
as captain or deal with this amorphous yet frighteningly intense spiritual
need--then looked at Chakotay with sudden resolve.
	"All right; I'll go. Is there any kind of...preparation, some kind of ritual I should perform first?"
	"Among my people, it's customary to fast and purify ourselves for at least
a day beforehand. But if you feel you absolutely have to go today --"
	Surprised, Kathryn interrupted. "But I have been fasting! Not
intentionally; I just haven't felt hungry. The last time I ate was at
dinner, day before yesterday."
	Chakotay stood and gripped her shoulder gently. "It sounds like you've
been readying yourself subconsciously, Captain. How long did you say it was
before sunrise?"
	"A little more than an hour; at 1320."
	"Then I'd suggest you take a warm bath. If you can meditate, fine;
otherwise, just try to relax."
	"And then what?"
	"Then, you beam down to that cove and begin your search."
	"Just like that? Chakotay, I haven't the vaguest idea what to look for.
How will I know when I've found it?"
	"You'll know. Listen to your heart, not your mind. Use your intuition."
	Kathryn grimaced. Intuition was not a word she was comfortable with. It
implied knowledge that came from some unknown--or unknowable--source. As a
starship captain she'd used her gut instinct on more than one occasion, and
as a scientist she'd had her share of hunches. But those were different.
They were simply a subconscious way of tying together disparate bits of
objective, scientific data. To look for some undefined object based on the
contents of a dream was so completely outside her experience that, for one
of the few times in her life, Kathryn Janeway felt unsure of herself. If
only she knew exactly what she was supposed to do....
	"Would you like some company?" Chakotay's soft voice interrupted her musings.
	A wave of relief swept through her, almost embarrassing in its intensity.
"I...yes; I would." She smiled ruefully. "After all, I'd hate to stumble
around for days on my own."
	"I don't blame you. I'll meet you in transporter room one at 1320, then."
	"I'll be there. And, Chakotay...thank you."
	Returning to the bridge, she turned command over to Tuvok, then went back
to her quarters. The feeling that she'd done the right thing deepened as
she stepped into the tub and sank to her chin in the warm, fragrant water.
Closing her eyes, she felt herself returning to the place where she'd first
met Firedream, the place where she'd been more content than anywhere else
in the universe.

	Six hours later, that feeling of peacefulness had completely vanished. In
its place were fatigue and frustration.
	"Chakotay, this isn't working," Kathryn sighed, dropping down to sit under
a tree with large, palm-like fronds. "What am I doing wrong? I'm trying to
keep an open mind and let whatever it is call to me, as you suggested. But
I haven't felt so much as a twinge."
	The commander handed her a container of water from his pack, then hunched
down beside her. "It's not your mind you have to keep open; it's your
heart. Your spirit."
	"Well, my spirit doesn't seem inclined to cooperate," she replied before
opening the container and quickly downing its contents. This was only the
second break they'd taken during the long morning. With this planet's
32-hour rotation, they still had hours before the sun reached zenith. But
it was almost 2000 hours ship time, and Kathryn had finally called a halt
to allow Chakotay, at least, to eat. Strangely, she still had no desire for
food, and wondered how much longer she'd be able to go on before the heat
would make her lightheaded.
	Fanning herself with one of the fallen leaves, she asked, "Just how long
am I supposed to search for this fetish?"
	"Until you find it," Chakotay mumbled around a protein bar.
	"Thank you, oh inscrutable one," she growled, flicking sand in his
direction. "How long did it take you?"
	"Four days."
	"Four...! But I thought your father--"
	"He helped me discover what I needed to find. But it still took four days
to get there. That doesn't mean it will take you that long," he added. I've
known people who found their fetishes within a couple of hours of setting
out." Chakotay finished the dry Starfleet ration, washed it down with water,
then placed the empty containers back into the daypack. "To answer your
other question, I think I know what your problem is. You said it yourself;
you're trying too hard. You have to be able to just...let go. "
	Kathryn smiled wryly and snorted. "Not something I'm very good at, I'll admit."
	"Would you be willing to try an experiment?"
	"What kind of experiment?" she asked warily. "I thought I wasn't supposed
to be analyzing this rationally."
	"You aren't. I'd like to try the same guided meditation my father used for
me. It should help you relax and find your center. Once you find your
fetish and begin to work with it, you'll be able to do this for yourself."
He raised an eyebrow in question.
	Kathryn nodded slowly. "All right. Should I close my eyes?"
	"If you wish. Sit so your spine is straight--leaning against the tree is
fine. Now, I want you to take a deep breath, in through your nose, and hold
it. Then slowly release the breath out through your mouth. Again, breathe
in through your nose, hold it, and breathe out through your mouth. That's
right. Breathe slowly and steadily. Now, imagine yourself in the center of
a web. You are the spider, the weaver, the dreamer. The web is what
connects you to this world. Reach out and feel the rock to which the web is
anchored, the breeze that stirs it, the dew that sparkles along each
strand."
	Well, that wasn't too hard, Kathryn thought. Although she wasn't sure
about being a spider. But the sand was very fine and soft, a soothing
counterpoint to the scratchy feel of the tree trunk against her back. And
the sun's heat was mitigated by a cool breeze off the ocean. It felt so
good just to sit here, in the shade, and listen to the sound of the surf.
	Chakotay's voice slowed and deepened, lulling her into a profound sense of
peace. "Now, extend your senses further along the web. Know the rock deep
beneath your feet; touch its solidity and feel it in your bones. Know the
vast ocean that encircles you; taste its saltiness and feel its rhythm in
your blood. Know the sky, clear above you; hear the wind and feel its
currents in your mind. Know the green, growing things all around you; smell
their perfume and feel your spirit soar. Then, when you are ready, open
your eyes and see that which you desire to find."
	A myriad of mental images flashed by so quickly she had no time to guess
their meaning. Then they were gone, as Chakotay's voice and the sound of
the surf faded to silence. Far from soaring, she felt herself sinking. Her
spirit became a falling stone, plunging deeper and deeper into a silent
pool, until all trace of light above her went.
	It seemed like an eternity before her progress finally slowed. She could
feel eddies forming that swirled her around, tossing her stone-self between
them like children with a ball. Gradually, the eddies became strong
currents, swirling around a common center, spinning her faster and faster.
The coriolis force beat at her, stretching and elongating her even as it
forced her back to the surface. She had silvery-pink scales now, and fins
that were flattened to her sides. And something called to her. It was
nothing she could see or hear--it was almost, but not quite, a smell. There
was a place she had to be, and it lay above. Swimming with the current, she
eagerly sought the growing light.
	With a violent heave she threw herself out of the whirlpool and into a
mighty river. But what she sought was still some distance ahead, and now
she had to swim against the current to get there. There was a way,
something deep inside murmured. It was done...thusly. Suddenly she fell
into a rhythm, her muscles responding to tiny variations in water pressure,
and she began to make progress. It was no longer hard work, but something
she did instinctively, just as she instinctively knew where she had to go.
With strong sweeps of her tail and leaps into the tropical air, she made
her way forward until at last she lay, gasping and spent, on the banks of
the now quiet river.
	Slowly, her back thickened and grew hard, becoming a shell that was spine
and shelter both. Her head shrank and developed a thick neck, and fins
turned into stumpy feet. But whereas before she had progressed with leaps
and bounds, now she could manage no more than a slow, ponderous pace. Yet
it was progress all the same, and gave her time to become intimately
familiar with her surroundings. Fine sand gave way to rocks and then
underbrush, and finally onto the floor of a primeval forest. The sun was a
remote presence, peeping only occasionally through the thick foliage above.
And so she crawled forward, inch by inch, until the inches flowed into
feet, and yards, and miles. It seemed she had been walking this path
forever, but the forest was cool and there were plenty of insects to eat.
Her intuition told her that what she sought would remain there long enough
for her to find it. There was no sense of urgency, and she was at peace
with the world around her.
	A white chrysalis appeared in front of her, dangling from a low-hanging
branch. She stretched her neck to butt at it playfully and watched it spin
gently in the breeze. Suddenly, with a dizzying sort of twist, she was the
one spinning around. She was confined in some membranous substance, and
somehow knew that it was time for her to emerge. A gentle arching movement
split the covering, allowing her wet and glistening wings to emerge.
Gradually the rest of her body followed: thorax and abdomen and, finally,
her head. She felt very weak and strangely heavy, but that feeling lessened
as her wings dried and stiffened. And then, with no effort at all, she was
airborne, following some instinct that led her to a cluster of wildflowers.
Uncurling her long tongue, she delicately sampled the varied feast spread
before her.
	With a flip of her wings she rose in the air, and, as in the pool, was
suddenly caught in a current that hurled her spiraling upward. It was
useless fighting the updraft, but after a few moments she was able to sense
which way the air would flow. Now her wings were made of feathers that
extended to either side in a great span. Higher and higher she flew, until
the world lay below her in a great motley patchwork of color. On one
particular stretch of sand, a woman leaned against a tree and a man sat
next to her, motionless. But there was something near them, something she
needed. With a high, piercing cry, she tucked in her dark red tail
feathers, folded her wings, and dove. At the last moment she pulled up,
plucked a stone from the sand with her talons, and then stroked upward
toward the sun.
	With a dazzling shower of molten bronze sparks, she burst through the sun
and continued upward. Now her spirit resided in the stone, and the dark
green of the sky became the depths of the ocean. Slowly she drifted upward,
finally breaking the surface and floating until she washed up on the shore
and became lodged in the sand. And there, at last, her journey ended.
	Gradually, her human senses returned. It was warm; the breeze that had
cooled her earlier was gone. She heard the endless roar of the surf and
felt a hard surface behind her, a soft one beneath. Her eyes fluttered
open, revealing two legs stretched out in shadow before her. Taking a deep
breath, she came fully awake and looked around.
	"Chakotay?" she called. "Are you there?"
	The only answer was the gentle sussuration of waves breaking on the shore.
Kathryn's right hand instinctively went to her left shoulder--and
encountered nothing but cloth. Her comm badge was missing.
	Rising slowly, she moved onto the beach, away from the concealing trees.
And there, only a few steps away, was a familiar outcrop of colorfully
striated sandstone. Part of the rock suddenly moved as she approached.
	"Firedream," she murmured. "If you're here, I must still be dreaming."
	Are you sure?
	"Well, it can't have been real, my turning into all those creatures." She
hesitated. "Could it?"
	What do you think?
	"As a scientist, I know it s impossible for Terran fauna to exist on this
world. But the whole experience felt so real .... I'm not sure what to
think--except that I definitely need to brush up on my natural history."
	You will not find answers in your computer files. If you truly wish to
learn about Salmon, Turtle, Butterfly, and Hawk, you must seek them in your
dreams and listen to what they have to teach. I will help you find the way,
once you have found what you seek.
	"That stone," Kathryn murmured, gazing up the beach.

	But, just as in her earlier dream, the view suddenly wavered like a heat
mirage and vanished. Unlike that dream, it was replaced, not with a window
filled with stars, but with the face of her first officer, looking down at
her. She was still seated under the tree. So; her talk with Firedream had
been part of her vision.
	"Captain, are you all right?"
	She tried to speak, but coughed dryly instead. Immediately, Chakotay
pressed a container of water into her hands and helped her navigate it to
her mouth. After taking a few gulps, she said hoarsely, "What happened? Did
I fall asleep?" Craning her neck up and then around, she found the
sun--just beyond the treetops. "My God. How long...?"
	"Four hours. And you weren't asleep, you were in one of the deepest
trances I've ever seen," Chakotay replied, his voice a strange blend of
worry and awe.
	"Why on Earth didn't you wake me?" Kathryn said, getting to her feet and
brushing the sand off her legs and shorts.
	"I'm not sure I could have. Do you know now what you're supposed to find?"
	"Oh yes," Kathryn replied dryly. "But that piece of information was the
least of it. The whole experience was...remarkable." She looked up the
beach, shading her eyes with her hand. "My fetish isn't too far away, but
we'd better hurry. The tide's coming in."
	Slinging the daypack over his shoulder, Chakotay joined her as she strode
down the beach. Thankfully, he didn't ply her with questions and seemed
content to walk in silence. Which was just as well; Kathryn wasn't sure she
could put her experience into words just yet. But she was a scientist; her
instinctive reaction was to analyze...
	Her instinctive reaction. Instinct; that was the key. Each of her
vision-selves had been guided by instinct, a knowledge so deep it was
written in their very genes. In each form, she'd been able to sense the
planetary currents of sea and soil and air. It was as if she'd tapped into
the web Chakotay had described at the beginning of the guided meditation--a
web that connected all forms of life on this planet. But she had taken the
form of Terran creatures. How could they, who were foreign to this world,
be part of its web? Unless...was it possible there was a greater web, one
that connected planetary systems and spanned the Universe? Her mind reeled
at the implications, and abruptly she remembered the images that had
flashed through her mind just before the vision began. She'd had that
experience before -the brief but exhiliarating feeling of being everywhere
at once and knowing everything that ever was, is, or will be -- when she'd
broken the Warp 10 barrier with Tom Paris. Normal humanoid consciousness
couldn't cope with such a barrage of information. But what if humanoid
instinct--or intuition; she reluctantly admitted there really was no
difference--was the subconscious mind's way of tapping into that Universal
web? Was that how she'd felt the connection, even light years away, between
her and her fetish? It was an interesting idea--similar to, but not quite
the same as, Jung's theory of the collective unconscious--and certainly
something to think about. Or, she amended ruefully, to meditate on.
	A little less than an hour later, Kathryn finally saw the object of her
search. The tugging had grown more insistent as she'd gotten closer, and
now she sprinted forward to cover the last few meters. Buried in the sand,
just as she knew it would be, was a stone that fit neatly into the palm of
her hand. Breathing a soft ahhhhh , she bent down and picked it up, then
turned to Chakotay, smiling.
	"It's a piece of pumice, she said, turning it over and over in her hands.
"It must have taken months to float to this shore. The nearest volcanic arc
is over two thousand kilometers away."
	"A long journey."
	"Hmmm. The ocean didn't smooth it very much, but then it wouldn't. It has
much too high a silica content. But why this, I wonder? Why not something
like a sea shell, or a leaf?"
	Chakotay waggled a finger in admonishment. "You're analyzing again. The
only one who can answer that question is you. Although I can tell you what
it means among my people."
	"What does it mean?"
	"My ancestors believed that all things were made of four elements: earth,
air, fire, and water. A little simplistic, compared to the modern periodic
table," he grinned. "Our shamans still teach that everything can be
classified as one of those four elements, or as a mixture of two or more.
They would call this a balance stone : a piece of earth, formed in the fire
and air of a volcanic eruption, and carried here by the water. "
	Kathryn remained silent for a moment, holding the rock in her left hand.
Four elements. In her vision, she'd been four different creatures. Did each
one relate to a different element? Well, salmon lived in water, and
although turtles could live on either sea or land, she'd been crawling
across the ground. So that would represent earth--a singularly parochial
term for alien soil, she thought wryly. But both the butterfly and hawk
flew in the air. Ah, but she had been a red-tailed hawk, and had flown into
the sun. Perhaps the bird represented fire, then. Something else on which
to meditate.
	"Balance," she finally murmured. "Something I'm definitely going to need
during our own long journey." A low, growling noise interrupted her.
Flushing with embarrassment, she realized the sound came from her stomach.
	"Sounds like you're ready to break your fast, Captain," Chakotay laughed.
	"I guess I am! And I am also dying for some coffee. Do you realize it's
been over 36 hours since my last cup?"
	His eyebrows arched and his eyes widened in mock astonishment. "I'll have
to enter that in the log; it must be a record."
	"Not even close," she retorted, laughing with him. "The longest I've
abstained from coffee--of my own free will, mind you--is five days. But
that's a long story." Her stomach rumbled again.
	"Care to tell me that story over breakfast? Or, whatever we can scrounge
up; it's almost 0200, ship's time."
	"I'm sure we can find something." Kathryn paused, then reached out to
touch his shoulder. "Thank you, Chakotay, for helping me find this."
	The commander shook his head. "The finding was all yours. I only gave you
a nudge in the right direction--as my father did for me."
	Smiling, she gripped his shoulder again, then touched her comm badge.
"Janeway to Voyager; two to beam up."
	For a brief moment, two columns of blue light rivaled the sun for
brilliance. Then they disappeared, as did the two visitors. Slowly, the
waves encroached on the small depression in the sand where the stone had
been, filling it in and restoring the balance.


**ALL ABOUT NOW VOYAGER**

	Welcome to the officially sanctioned Kate Mulgrew Appreciation Society.
This newsletter is published bimonthly by Michelle Erica Green and Paul
Anderson, P.O. Box 34745, Bethesda, MD 20827-4745. You can reach us online
at tigger@cais.cais.com or thepooh@aol.com. Send SASE for information or $5
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	This is a not-for-profit, amateur publication and is not intended to
infringe upon the rights of Paramount Pictures or any other broadcasting or
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	The opinions expressed in Now Voyager are not necessarily those of the
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in contributing, please write for guidelines.

PHOTO AND ART CREDITS

3, 4, 5, 13--Illustrations © Jennifer Pelland 1996.
5--Illustration © Ruth Burns 1996.
6--Program cover © Seattle Repertory Theatre 1996.
7--Photo © Cheryl Waldie 1996.
7--Photo © Leah Frey 1996.
8--Photo © Rick Buickel 1996.
9, 10--Photos © Joan Testin 1996.
12--Photo © Lauren Baum 1996.
14--Illustration © Caricatures by Wayne 1995.
24--Illustration © L.R. Bowen 1996.

WE ARE FAMILY

THE COMMANDER
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The Masthead

Kate Mulgrew is our captain and our raison d'être.
Michelle Erica Green publishes and presides over Now Voyager.
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PHOTOS FROM STARFEST

	Now Voyager has color prints of the group photo from Denver which was on
the cover of Now Voyager 2:4, as well as a terrific color photo of Kate
during an autograph session, both taken by Joan Testin. 4x6 prints are
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NOW VOYAGER BACK ISSUES

Issues feature Voyager reviews, interviews, commentary, pictures, art,
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Vol.1, 1 - Feb. 1995 - First issue, a little of everything.
Vol.1, 2 - Apr. 1995 - San Francisco and Grand Slam con reports, interviews
with Lolita Fatjo and Eric Stillwell.
Vol.1, 3 - Jun. 1995 - Interview with Kate's stand-in Sue Henley, Bellevue
con report.
Vol.1, 4 - Aug. 1995 - Vulkon Janeway fan discussion, interview with David
Stipes, full page Kate photo (same as '96 club photo).
Vol.1, 5 - Oct. 1995 - Phone interview with Kate, full page photo.
Vol.1, 6 - Dec. 1995 - Kate at charity event photos/reviews, Robert Beltran
convention interview and full page Robert publicity photo.
Vol.2, 1 - Jan. 1996 - Now Voyager phone interview with Jeri Taylor, Robert
Picardo convention interview.
Vol.2, 2 - Mar. 1996 - Heartbeat review, Christie Golden interview.
Vol.2, 3 - May 1996 - Kate's horoscope, full page photo from A Stranger is
Watching.
Vol.2, 4 - Jul. 1996 - April Denver Starfest convention reports/ photos and
Now Voyager club members' brunch with Kate.

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* * * *



RESOLVING "RESOLUTIONS"


	WARNING:  This is a collection of stories based on the second season's
penultimate episode. As you can guess, they contain suppositions about what
went on between Janeway and Chakotay after the Angry Warrior scene.
Included here are only a very few of the speculations floating around; we
decided to print them because a great many people asked us to. These
stories all involve sexual tension, if not outright sex, between the
characters, and while none are explicit, some leave little to the
imagination. Moreover, most of these extrapolations are idyllic and contain
the "L" word...but none entails the "M" word, so if you think that marriage
should be a prerequisite to the physical manifestations of love, the events
herein might offend your morals. If that's the case, or if you haven't
reached the PG-13 age, or if you don't like romantic stories, or if you are
offended politically or personally by the idea of Janeway and Chakotay
having any sort of intimate relationship, then don't read any further--or,
at least, don't complain. There's non- mushy fanfic in the newsletter.
	DISCLAIMERS:  Paramount owns Janeway, Chakotay, and the rest of the
Voyager crew, but can't seem to keep track of what they do offscreen and
off duty. Jeri Taylor wrote "Resolutions," for which we thank her
profoundly. The writers herein are all responsible for their own
interpretations of the show, the episode, and the characters.

____________________________________

REVELATIONS
by L. R. Bowen
____________________________________
	
	She had it all planned out, every move in advance, though she knew he
would have smiled if he had known. He would have cracked a joke about how
she organized everything she did, and he would have been right. She did
like to organize, and to have a clear plan of action. With enough room to
maneuver, in case of surprises.
	None of this should have taken her unawares. Of course she had noticed his
notice of her, and his careful grace in trying not to make it too obvious.
Even though they were the only two humans on the planet, that was hardly
basis for a relationship, and she had meant to tell himthat. That had made
sense at the time. Really, it had. They had struck a spark into ready fuel,
and it needed rapid quenching if it was not to keep smoldering, all night
and longer. His hands on her shoulders, strong fingers, stooped low enough
over her that she could feel his warm breath through her hair; and the
sweet sensual feel of loosening muscles, of melting tension. His intent had
shifted, silently, but so clearly that he might have spoken it in her ear.
They could have surprised themselves just then, but she had never planned
on this, and she needed room to maneuver. No matter the heart-stirring
warmth in his dark eyes, reluctantly shown, and the almost-asked question,
suppressed, and asked anyway. Tall and broad, his features open as a
child's.
	She had had to think first, tucked in bed, the narrow little cot that
would never accommodate such a big man--no, that was not the thought she
wanted. Thoughts needed planning too. She sped her mind along several
possible paths at once, extrapolating the outcome on each. The most likely
one? She was a woman, there were no other women, but that didn't mean
anything if she didn't want it to. He would never make it mean anything
that she didn't welcome, no matter how much he needed it. She didn't want
him to starve, but she wasn't survival gear. She had to tell him that. They
were friends, far more, and this might spoil that forever. Forever could be
a long time with no friends. Parameters, drawn firmly, clear plans, and she
would not worry any longer.
	And then he had handed her another surprise. How long had he been building
it in secret?
	He had to wrap himself in a story, the way he so often did. Why couldn't
he just say what he meant, instead of attributing it to someone else? "My
people have a saying," he would say, and she would want to reply, "I will
listen to you all by yourself, Chakotay. You don't have to cite authority."
He had to set it outside himself to bring it out at all. And she had
listened long enough to realize that this was not a story, and that he had
brought her another gift out of hiding. The most precious of any thing he
had built for her, and she knew its meaning instantly. Could she ever not
have known that he was keeping it for her? She wept unconsciously, and did
not know it until he smoothed one tear away. They sat so long,
hand-clasped, that the birds were stirring in the trees before he rose,
kissed her thumb, and stepped away. When he retreated into his own alcove
and she into hers, she had no sense of interruption, because somehow he had
filled her with his warmth. Her sleep was deep and peaceful, knowing she
had brought him peace herself. He had given it back to her.
	The smell of breakfast woke her, and his movements around the work area,
the creak of his belt when he leaned over the table to set it, flatware
clicking softly on the surface. Coffee. They were careful with the use of
the replicator, though they had power for many years; they would need it
far more in the future than they did now, still young and able to farm and
gather.
	They were going to grow old together.
	She had more time than she could possibly need to find the right moment,
but she wanted to use a little more of it. Exist in the present, keep this
instant of their lives as long as possible. This could only be done once,
and had to be done correctly. Slowly, in order to make no mistakes. When
there were only two people in all the world, they couldn't afford mistakes.
There would be only one first time.
	Slow, gradual; he might kiss her cheek today, briefly, and she would put
her hands on his shoulders when he did so. Touch his face, let him comb her
hair and braid it. The knowledge of his feelings was too new, and her own
feelings--now that she could look back at the last year and a half with
this new lens, many incidents leaped into focus, but she could not yet form
a coherent picture. It would emerge bit by bit, memories blending with the
present to shape the future. She had a vision of the finished picture in
mind, only a glow on the horizon now, but she knewthe light would
strengthen, that dawn would eventually rise to a new day. It seemed as
inevitable as the turning of the planet. But it was not here yet; it was
only a goal. She liked having goals, and watching their approach. She would
signal each stage when she was ready, by being in reach when he moved, or
by reaching out to him. She would wait a week before she hugged him from
behind to greet him in the morning.
	This morning, she gave him a smile when she came out of her alcove with
her hair loose, and he took her hand for a moment before he turned to put
the dishes on the table. She estimated six weeks, tops, from the date of
yesterday when he had told her his story. It could have been diagrammed in
an arc: they had been left on the planet together, as one foot of the arc,
and there had been a slow rise along the limb to where they were now, short
of the apex of the curve. It had not been a smooth progression, since
surprises leaped it upwards, now and then, but it rose steadily on the
average, plotted between the points. She could plan for surprises now, and
smooth the curve. And put off the gradual downturn after the apex, if that
was the natural shape of the arc. She knew he liked to carve new shapes
from the natural. Two weeks, and she would go to sleep on his shoulder as
they lay on the grass under the trees.
	Breakfast was a little more special than usual, with the coffee, but not
overstated. That would have been too much of a leap on the curve. He wanted
it slow, too. He would let her lead. He seemed to eat nothing, but smiled
as if that were his nourishment. She smiled back. Three weeks, give or
take, and she would let his hands soothe her weariness, as long as they
both liked... She helped him clean up, and went outside to clear away the
last few fallen branches.
	The kiss he gave her when she came back in surprised her. Not her hands on
his shoulders, but her arms around his neck, and his arms wrapped so
tightly she was lifted off the ground. And his lips brushed hers, open,
briefly, before he put her down a little sheepishly and they sat at their
desks to work. By four or five weeks, she would have seen his body, and he
hers. She knew he would never rush her. She would need to study his
reactions to know what pleased him. At five weeks, she would ask him what
he liked the most, so he would know that he could ask her the same. A
little discussion beforehand never hurt, and opened the dialogue. It was
always worth the trouble to check one's assumptions and hypotheses to avoid
experimental blunders. They ate lunch together, and talked so long that it
was dinnertime before they stood up from the table.
	Six weeks, and she would linger in his alcove after dinner, listening to
him read aloud as he reclined on his bed. She would put her cheek against
his chest to feel his voice resonate through his body. She would give him
poetry to read to her, and watch his face. He would cock an eyebrow at her
when he came across a phrase that struck him as funny, and she would laugh
even before she heard what he was going to say. Then she would stop
laughing, and grow serious--or collapse in laughter on his chest, embracing
him under his shirt. He would drop the padd on the floor and embrace her as
well, and they would lie sealed together, counting heartbeats, time
expiring. One part of their lives would pass away like that, and another
take its place. Would she say something to confirm it? He might know, by
then, how to read her without words. And he would know it was coming, by
then. She did not intend to take him by surprise.
	At bedtime, they kissed again. She let her lips relax against his, soft
and affectionate, not too intense at this point. He read her perfectly, and
did the same. A long hug pressed his face into her hair, molded her body
against him, not too tightly. But enough for her to feel his chest heave
against hers, his sudden breath warmly audible in her ear. Right then,
right now, if she gave the word, he would sweep her up and lay her down,
reveal them both to the light, advance time so swiftly that her senses
would fill themselves with him in an instant, weeks crammed into the
moment...
	He let her go, and went to bed behind the partition.
	She lay awake for some time, listening to him turn over every few minutes,
and automatically doing the same, as if she were shifting to accommodate
his movements or lie closer to him. The bed seemed too large for her alone,
though still not big enough for two. Would only time help her with that
perception?
	The days passed slowly one by one, but each was so swift that she had no
sense of impatience. Nothing hurried them. They cooked and ate, worked and
read, went on exploring walks. They held hands when it was convenient.
Sometimes they would stop in their tracks, watching an animal escape into
the trees, or simply to allow a lull. Sometimes then his hands would rest
on her shoulders, and he would move closer until his arms went around her
and his chin pressed on her head. He was heavy, but he never let his weight
rest on her. Their favorite little meadow, where the grass was usually not
damp in the afternoons, was a good place to sleep for an hour when it was
warm. She would wake to find him watching her, as if he meant to read her
dreams, and she would let them show in her eyes, since she wanted him to
know. Kissing, they would lie on the grass, exploring the minute variations
of each positioning of lips and tongue, tasting the sweetness of promised
future. It would never taste the same once it had become the present. It
might be better. But she needed to study each nuance before it passed
forever, because she would never have another opportunity.
	At two weeks and several days, she had let him know that his hands were
welcome anywhere he chose to put them over her clothing, and he had used
that privilege discreetly. The soft brush of his fingertips over her hair
in passing, resting a hand on her hip when she bent to retrieve something.
She did not touch him too much herself, as that would be a signal which
even he might misinterpret. But she would stroke his thigh when he stood up
next to her, feeling the movement of the muscles under his trousers.
Tighten and release, the strength of the movement, the relaxation when it
was complete and he loomed over her, smiling down with the little quirk of
the lips she liked so much. He had strong legs, and a muscular pelvis; his
every movement had weight, and light grace as well. He would never use his
strength clumsily or wrongly. She knew he had power, and that he had no
need to restrain any urge to abuse it. There would be no surprises from
that quarter.
	He even gave her space to breathe and think alone. His eyes did not follow
her everywhere she went in the house, so she did not need to escape
outside. And he let her go on walks by herself, though he would remind her
to take a phaser just in case. She never needed it. There were no animals
larger than the monkeys. She wondered a little at the structure of the
ecosystem, but he only said, "That reminds me of a legend," and smiled at
her. He told her a story about an earthly paradise, where people could live
all their lives on the fruit and acorns, which were always in season, and
on the trout in the streams, which leaped of their own accord into the
fires to roast.
	"It's not quite that easy here," she said.
	"I wouldn't want it to be that easy," he replied, and stirred the soup he
was making.
	The next day she found something on her bed. A leaf, folded carefully
around some small object and tied with a strand of grass. It was a pendant
and small polished beads, all carved from soft dark stone and strung on a
round braided cord. He smiled when she came out wearing it over her dress,
and told her that the stone would harden with exposure to air and sunlight.
On examination she realized that the cord was made from gathered strands of
her own hair, twisted into slender twines and plaited. It was as strong as
steel cable, and the color of bronze. The pendant pulled the beads into a
sheer parabola around her throat. After a few days, the dark stone took on
a subtle sheen from her body. She removed it only when she took her baths.
	At three and a half weeks, she invited him to come and talk to her one
evening while she soaked, and eventually he shed his own clothes and
slipped in with her, spilling the excess water onto the hot stones with a
noisy rush of steam. "Thank you for illustrating the principles of
Archimedes," she joked, and he laughed harder than she had ever seen him
do, sending little ripples across the tub to her with the vibrations of his
chest.
	"Eureka," he said when he could speak, and she laughed with him. They were
sitting at opposite ends of the tub, a little cramped with knees drawn up,
but he had built it roomy.
	"I don't suppose he expected revelations from a bath," she said.
	"Neither did I," he replied. Both of them were quiet for a long time,
sitting in the steam. Eventually his eyes drifted from her face, and she
smiled to let him examine her. It was dark, and the water lent mystery, but
she knew he could see the curve of her torso down into the dimness. She
spread her arms and leaned back. He was poised a little forward, his elbows
on the rim. "You're very beautiful, Kathryn," he said.
	When she did not reply immediately, he looked off into the woods. Was he
going to surprise her after all? She held her breath, but he did not move.
Only his chest, deep controlled breaths. He smiled off into the darkness,
pulling in his lips. She expected a quip when he turned to her again, but
he only looked at her with the same heart-stirring warmth, open as a
child's.
	"You're very beautiful, Chakotay," she said at last, and he grinned, and
closed his eyes.
	"There's not much basis for comparison around here, is there?" he said.
	"What comparison do I need?" she asked, and surprised herself.
	"Yes, some principles are absolute," he said, and stood up. The water
level dropped precipitously, and he put a hand on the rim and vaulted out.
"I'm afraid I've spoiled your bath."
	"I invited you." Their eyes met. He dropped his gaze after a moment, then
brought it back up and looked earnestly at her.
	"Would you like some help?"
	"Getting out of the tub? I can manage that pretty well on my own."
	"There are a lot of things I can manage on my own. Sometimes I let someone
else help me with them." He picked up her towel and wrapped it around his
waist, then stepped back. "I'll get another one for you."
	While he was gone, she wondered. Was she going too slowly? Was the curve
dropping off between the points? She would have to draw the line again and
re-plot the chart. Sometimes in the middle of an experiment, a new weight
would pull the curve into a different shape, and she was bound to consider
that. There was another hand to carve this with her. It took him so long to
come back that she realized he was giving her time to think, and then her
decision was swift. When he came out of the house again, dressed and
carrying a dry towel, she kissed him, nude and dripping as she was, and
took him back inside, leading him by the hand.
	He never removed his own clothes, though she unbuttoned his shirt, and he
gently pushed her hands away from his trouser fastenings. Nestled against
him, his explorations self-circumscribed, she had no concept of the passage
of time. He wanted to give, and she let him, for an eternity of the
present.
	They slept, awkwardly, on his narrow bed.
	The next morning he had not started cooking breakfast by the time she
rose, and was designing something on her monitor. Purposely, she did not
look at the screen. He spent a long time in the woods, and she saw him
looking thoughtfully at the downed trees in the yard, occasionally
phasering off a large section and dragging it out of sight with him. It
took him almost a week, and he quietly stacked finished crossbars and posts
in his alcove, one by one.
	"Would you like some help?" she asked, and he smiled at her.
	"No," he said. "It's a surprise."
	Four weeks and one day. She went for a long walk on her own, and he still
had several walls detached and down on the grass when she returned. He
looked sweaty and disheveled, a littlefrazzled, and relieved when she
suggested dinner outside in the warm evening air. She took a bath while he
made thumping, dragging noises inside for an hour afterwards. Once she
heard a crash, and a curse. Finally it fell quiet, though he did not call
her, and it grew too late to delay any longer. She put on her robe and went
inside. He was fast asleep, probably from sheer exhaustion, still in his
clothes. He hadn't finished rearranging the interior, but the new bed had
an alcove of its own, barely large enough to accommodate it. He had left
room beside him. She put on her nightclothes, watching him as he slept. He
was on his stomach, turned to the outside of the bed, to the door of the
alcove, his head pillowed on one arm. At least he had taken off his boots.
His shirt was damp across the back and under the arms; she could smell him
like a warm breeze. She tugged the blankets out from under him and snuggled
in against his side.
	The smell of breakfast woke her again, and coffee. She sat up in bed and
he brought her a tray, and fetched one for himself. He had washed and
changed his clothes, and when they had finished eating, he brushed out her
hair. She could feel his fingers stroking through it, smoothing it, and she
asked him what he liked about it. His hands paused, then dropped to her
shoulders, and he rested his cheek against hers, lightly, his chest warm
against her back. He told her a story, about corn-silk goddesses and a
lusty warrior, and she laughed.
	Four weeks, two days. Thirty sunrises. She had marked every point along
the way, nestling each in the soft lap of memory, saving them one by one to
keep them strung on the curve of the unbreakable cord. The apex was
reached, and it might only keep ascending. There were no predictions in her
mind any more, so there could be nothing that contradicted expectation. For
the rest of their lives. He asked her, shyly, what she liked best about
love, and she answered simply, "You." It wasn't surprise in his face; it
was more like the sun rising. She didn't have to answer any more questions.

	That afternoon, she put tomato seeds into pots to sprout. She had no idea
how long it would be before they were ready to plant.
____________________________________

UNCERTAIN FUTURE
by Dottie Ronhovde
____________________________________

	I sit here, my emotions in turmoil, after hearing his story, and I
suddenly realize that there are too many parallels to his own life. That
thought amuses me a little. He's always so solid and strong that I'm
surprised he needs to hide behind a "legend."
	"Is there really an ancient legend?"
	"No...but that made it easier to say."
	Oh God, he's released the genie, and there he waits, so open, so afraid
that I'll reject what he's finally had the courage to admit. Do I have the
courage to accept it? I don't know, this is too sudden. The physical need
I'd expected, and I think I could have found a response to that. But
this... I have to do something. The fear is building in his eyes.
	His hand meshed with mine seems so big, yet it's so gentle. His warmth
flows into me through the connection and it feels so good.  I become
absorbed in examining the shape and texture of his features. I thought I
knew this man, but in the last few weeks, he's shown me things that have
surprised me.
	There, in his eyes...he's unbanked the fires and I feel a spark ignite in
me too. It would be easy to accept this as inevitable. But I can't. I've
never just accepted anything as inevitable, and certainly not the fact that
this will be my life, that he will be my life. My body is telling me one
thing, but my heart and mind say something different. Why can't it be
simple?
	His thumb whispers across my cheek as he wipes a tear I didn't know I'd
shed. Before I can stop myself, my face turns into his palm and then I
freeze. What am I doing? My eyes fly to his and I see understanding and
more than a little regret. His hand comes away from my face reluctantly and
he says, "It's OK, I've lived with this for months now, and I still
couldn't tell you how I feel without hiding behind a story. We have time,
maybe the rest of our lives. I'll be here when you're ready." Then he
stands. Without another word, he leaves me to go to his bed. Now that he's
gone, the space around me feels empty somehow, but I'm grateful to him for
understanding.
	He's turning again. Is he as restless as I am? Be still, Kathryn! You
can't help him with that problem. Think of something else.
	My thoughts flit from one memory to the next, all of them remembered
moments with him; moments that now take on a whole new meaning. I need to
analyze this meaning, and I replay them again, examining them and their
meaning to me now. Is this situation so different that what we were has no
importance now? Just what is my real problem in accepting him?
	I was his captain. That prevented any other relationship. But now...I am
still the captain, and I'm not ready to give that up yet. To do so would be
giving up hope of leaving here.  And I want to leave here. I want my ship
back. Impossible as that is, I still want it. Oh, Chakotay, I wish I could
be as accepting as you seem to be.

	It's morning already and he's up. I wonder if he slept at all. I'm going
to have to get up and face him. What will I say? How do we go on from here?
Do I pretend nothing happened? But something important did happen, and I
can't ignore that. Mmmm, coffee. He already knows me so well. What is that
smell? He must be cooking something special. Now that we've turned down a
path we can't reverse, perhaps he's as nervous about facing me as I am him.
	"Good morning."
	He turns at the sound of my voice and hands me a cup of coffee. "I thought
we needed something different than the normal rations. I'm trying one of my
mother's recipes."
	"That smells wonderful, I could use something special this morning."
	"It's almost ready, have a seat."
	Damn, now he's caught me staring. Does he know what that smile does to me?
There's no self-consciousness with him. I guess his accepting nature makes
that possible. He's placed the next step in my hands and is comfortable
with the waiting.
	"What do you think about adding the extra rooms? It would give us a little
more privacy and more space to work in."
	"I don't know, that would be a pretty big project."
	"Well, I would need some help."	
	"Do you really think it's possible?"
	"Yes, I do. It might take some time to gather all the materials we'd need,
but it could be done."
	"All right, I think we should at least look into the possibilities."
	This need to build and create is another facet of him I would never have
suspected if we hadn't been forced into these circumstances. When we finish
eating, he's eager to get started. He takes our dishes and cleans up. "I'm
going to look for the trees we'll need to build the walls today. Would you
like to come with me?"
	I wonder if he has a hidden agenda, but I see nothing of it in his
expression and surprise myself by agreeing. "I think I'd like that."
	We pack a lunch and set off. I've wandered some of the area near our
shelter, but Chakotay knows far more of it. He leads me to the edge of a
small meadow and stops to watch my reaction. I also stop in surprise. It's
filled with flowers, creating a small sea of yellow blooms. In delight, I
wade into their midst, wandering through the clumps, touching their petals
and smelling their scents. He waits patiently for me to get my fill and
come back to him.
	"This is beautiful. Are there other places like this?"
	"Well, each place is unique, but yes, there are others just as beautiful.
Would you like to see them?"
	"Yes! When can we do that?"
	He chuckles and says, "We have all the time we want, and can decide how to
use it. When would you like to do it?"
	"How about right now. How many can we fit into one day?"
	"I don't know, but let's find out."
	We spend the day roaming the secret little places he's discovered. In each
one, he takes me to a spot where we can feel and appreciate the energy and
unique qualities found there. As we eat our lunch perched on a large rock
beside a little stream that feeds the river, he tells me a story about his
childhood and his father.
	"My father tried so hard to teach me to appreciate nature and what it does
for us. But I was impatient, and couldn't see the value in listening to the
trees or the animals or the wind. I was more interested in starships,
phasers and torpedoes. I don't think I truly believed in the things he
tried to teach me until after he was gone. But, after visiting places where
the living things have been used, discarded and destroyed, I know how
important they are. I wish I could share them with him now."

	We've spent the last few days roaming the places he wanted to show me. We
talked and laughed and even cried together. And never once has he let
himself show me the heat and need of that night again. It's never far from
my mind though, and I can't help but study him during those moments when
he's absorbed in telling me another one of his stories.
	I'm learning to see beyond the obvious point of his stories. He reveals
little pieces of himself in each one of them. I tuck them away, saving them
to examine again at night when we're settled into our separate beds for the
night. I listen to the sounds of him shifting in his bed and wonder if
perhaps he's doing the same thing. We don't discuss it, but the question
between us remains unanswered.

	As we settle into our new routines, we become more and more comfortable
with going about all the little chores of daily living together. We learn
about the little habits that define our personalities. I don't like to wear
shoes. He clenches his jaw when he's concentrating very hard on something.
I am compulsive about keeping things organized. He's by nature an untidy
person, although he's trained himself to curb that.
	And through it all, we become comfortable with the enforced closeness of
our existence. I can stand behind him and watch as he carves and we are
both comfortable with that. He can reach past me for something on the table
and it no longer cause either of us to pause. In the evenings, we share the
same table instead of choosing our places away from each other.

	Today was warm and we went for a long walk, enjoying the sights and smells
we found. He's teaching me to see things in a totally different light. I'm
beginning to feel the essence of life in everything around us. At one
point, he offered me his hand as I stepped over a fallen tree, and kept it
in his when we move on. If it had been another time and place, I might have
quirked and eyebrow at him in pointed question at his audacity, but today I
felt mellow and left it there.
	Later, we stopped to rest and absorb, and we talked about little
things--he pointed out the birds that came to forage near us and I
expressed appreciation for the lushness of the trees and undergrowth. After
a while, we lapsed into easy silence and sank into our own thoughts.
	I was nearly asleep when he said, "Kathryn?" When I opened my eyes, he was
leaning over me watching me closely. His eyes were so intense they sent a
little rush of warmth through me. "We should be getting back. It looks like
it's going to rain."
	My name on his lips no longer seems foreign to me and I don't think of him
as 'Commander' anymore. We are just Chakotay and Kathryn. I'm surprised
that I like the sound of that. My rank and position in Starfleet were
always important to me yet I've set that aside quite easily. When I
realized this, I felt guilty; guilty of forgetting who I am and to whom I
owe loyalty. Voyager, my ship, is moving on toward home, and I'm not with
her, not with my crew. Although I didn't willingly choose to be left here,
I feel I've let them down.
	As we walked back to our home, and yes, I do think of it as home now, I
struggled with the conflicting desires. I still think of Voyager and the
crew often, and wish I...we, were with them. But I'm also happy here in
this life that he's making comfortable. If this is truly going to be my
life, I'm glad that I'm sharing it with him. Chakotay sensed there was some
problem I was working on resolving and led me back in near silence, leaving
me to my thoughts.

	Tonight we're confined inside by a steady rain. The sound of it's drumming
on the roof has drawn me to the door to watch the water splash into our
yard. As I stand here looking out, Chakotay's come to stand behind me,
close enough that I feel his warmth at my back. It attracts me and I lean
back lightly against his chest.
	"Are you going to curse me for not building a shelter over your tub?"
	I like his humor. "If I said yes, would you build me one?" As I turn to
see his reaction his nose brushes through my hair just above my ear. His
eyes are closed, but they open when he feels me move.
	"...I ...excuse me."
	The aching desire is exposed for a moment again before he forces it behind
the curtain of his control. He pulls away and I feel a need to ease the
moment. He deserves more than I've given him so far. So I reach out and lay
my hand on his arm to stop him. When he turns back to me, his expression is
guarded, and I see the unanswered question there again. Will you accept me?

	"I need time, Chakotay. If we don't make this work between us, there's no
way to undo it or to start over with someone else. If this is to be our
life, I want it to be a long and happy one."
	He stands there silent, his eyes searching mine for something. Whatever he
sees satisfied him and he nods. Without speaking, he turns and retreats
into his sleeping cubicle. His acceptance is almost harder to tolerate than
if he'd bargained with me for more. It places the weight of his emotional
needs squarely on my shoulders.
	I too go to my bed, but not to sleep. The reality of our life here is
settling into my consciousness and I ask myself what I'm waiting for.
Perhaps he's right, I should just accept it and make the best of it. It
really isn't such a bad life, and I certainly could have been stranded with
worse partners. I make a decision to begin the process.

	As we eat our breakfast together, I propose a new project to him. "I was
thinking that we should try to grow some vegetables. We have the seeds
Neelix gave us and the climate seems perfect right now."
	He pauses in his eating to look at me in surprise, but he nods and
launches into some suggestions on a site to put the garden and what we'll
need to do to prepare it. Then he pauses and smiles at me and I'm not
surprised that he recognizes the turnaround I've made. I return his smile
and we share a special moment.
	Later that morning, as I prepare a seed tray and plant tomato seeds, he
comes over to see what I'm doing.
	"Why did you choose tomatoes and not something that's easier to preserve?"
	"I want ammunition to throw at you, and ripe tomatoes make lovely splats
when they land."
	"Well, you'd better plant a lot then because I want to have enough to
return fire."
	Chakotay, do you feel it too? This kind of closeness is so special. You
make each day a joy. Yes, I can see you do know what I mean. Laughter binds
us tighter than any promises could.
	The next day, we work together to dig up the soil and break up the clumps.
It's hard work, but I thoroughly enjoy it. Once the hard part is completed,
Chakotay leaves me to finish the task of preparing the bed while he goes
back to his plans for the house. Once the garden bed is ready, I again join
him in his wandering the woods. I've missed these walks with him and I want
him to know it.

	One of our favorite places is a little stream that runs down a steep hill
over boulders and fallen trees. It sometimes pauses in its downward plunge
in pools that are deep and dark. The trees along its banks are huge and
old. Chakotay says they speak to him of history long forgotten. Today, we
stop at one of the pools and pick a place on a small patch of tender grass
to sit and listen. I deliberately sit close to him, although not actually
leaning against him.
	For a while we sit silently, absorbing the peace around us. But my
thoughts begin to wander, and Chakotay sees something in my expression that
causes him to ask. I hesitate to tell him my thoughts, but if we are to
build a relationship, he needs to know this part of me.
	"I was thinking about Mark. I really loved him and he was the first man
I'd ever let get that close to me. He came into my life at a time that
couldn't have been worse for making it work. I'd been on Earth for a year,
but I'd been too busy to allow time for anything but my work. I had just
been named as Voyager's captain, but she was still in the shipyard,
undergoing final testing. We were having problems with the bio-neural
circuitry and they brought Mark in to help."
	Chakotay shifts his position, so he can sit facing me and watch my
expressions. This memory is painful for me, and I can't look at him as I
speak of it.
	"At first I resisted his attempts to see me outside of the professional
situation. But, as the testing required longer and longer hours together,
we began to get to know each other better. I won't bore you with how it all
started or how we spent our time. The reason I'm telling you any of this,
is because he's still a part of me. Mark understood how important the ship
and my career were to me. He encouraged me when I needed it, and he cheered
for me when things went well. He filled the need for companionship and love
for me and he gave them without any strings attached.
	"When we got stranded in the Delta Quadrant, he was the driving force in
my own desire to get home. My memory of him, my desire to get back to him,
gave me the strength of having a goal and I thought that was all I was
going to have to rely on... But, I was wrong. I think there might be
someone else who will give me strength...and perhaps more."
	I see hope in his eyes, but he's cautious. We both understand what's at
stake if we push our relationship into something we can't live with. This
time, he makes the first move and holds up his hand to me. As my fingers
mesh with his, I feel the rightness of this connection and realized that
I've relied on him for quite some time. I can't say that I love him, but,
if we are going to be here for the rest of our lives, I think that will
come.
	He locks his eyes with mine and says, "I promise you that as long as I'm
with you, you can rely on my support and strength. You'll never have to
stand alone."
	I don't resist when he pulls me up onto my knees and against his chest. As
we wrap our arms around each other, we discover that our bodies fit
together like custom tailored clothing falling into place. I close my eyes
and sink into his embrace, my nose tucked against his throat. His warm
scent fills me and I listen to his steady heartbeat under my ear. We hold
each other, giving and receiving comfort and strength through the contact
of our bodies pressed together.

	Since that day, things between us have subtly changed. I guess the easiest
way to describe it is to say that I'm relaxed and comfortable with him now.
I sometimes feel the heat beneath the surface, but he's always careful to
keep it under tight control. Because he does, I feel safe to let myself
explore my feelings for him.
	We touch each other often, always briefly, always in nonsuggestive ways,
but still touching. Until very recently, I never realized that he'd been
careful not to do so before. And I hadn't realized how starved for it I
was. I'd wrapped myself so securely in the command mantle that I'd
forgotten what it's like to have that contact from another person.
	Our days have settled into a familiar pattern. In the mornings, we do
whatever work is needed around the house. Then we use the afternoons to
explore more of the area around us. The river offers some possibilities
we'd both like to look into, but we don't have any means to travel far
along it. Perhaps at some point, we'll figure out a way to use it. In the
meantime, we enjoy our land-based explorations.
	My tomato seeds have sprouted and they'll be ready to plant in a few more
days. I've been checking them daily, poking a finger gently into the soil,
looking for the first signs of green. Chakotay watches in amused silence,
and he smiles encouragement when I tell him I've seen the first hint of
growth.

	Tuvok has just closed communications with us, and we remain motionless
staring at each other.  I sit in shock, my emotions again in turmoil. I
gave up too soon. I let go of Voyager too soon. And now they're coming back
for us. I'm going to have my ship back, and I don't deserve it.
	"Kathryn, don't. Don't believe what you're thinking. It wasn't wrong to
enjoy life."
	I turn to him, and his words soothe my conscience a little. I reach for
him, and he takes my hands in his. He kneels down, to put himself at eye
level with me.
	"We have to live each day one day at a time. It's not wrong to take the
best that day has to offer and enjoy it. This day offers us a joy we
thought we'd never have. We'll be rejoining our ship and our family. You
should be looking forward with happiness, not backward with regret."
	His words are so appropriate to what I'm thinking that I can almost feel
him inside of me, reading my thoughts. He reads me like an open book. That
should make me uncomfortable, but it doesn't. I think I like having him
know me so well.
	We spend the next day sorting and packing equipment and personal
belongings. It's tiring, and we speak little. I feel his eyes on me often,
but I'm not ready to answer his question now. There is too much to think
about. But I know he'll ask, and I know he has a right to. I just don't
know what the answer will be.
	I've felt it hovering all day, just beyond my hearing. Now it's evening
and Voyager will be here tomorrow. We've finished everything we want to do
and finally can take time to eat and rest. For the first time in many
weeks, there's tension between us. The house feels too small, and I make an
escape outside. Chakotay's eyes follow me, but he let's me have some time
alone. Then I hear him come out too. He stops a little away from me and
stands, leaning against a tree. His posture is rigid, and I know it's
coming soon. He's just trying to put it together in his mind.
	I wait for him, still unsure how to answer. Finally, his head comes up and
he turns toward me. He's lifted the curtain and I see all the things he's
kept from me until now; need, love and uncertainty. The intensity shocks
me, but his words are still controlled. "Will things be the same when we
get back on the ship? Or am I going to be just another crewman again?"
	"You were never 'just another crewman', and I don't see how either of us
can go back as exactly the same people we were. I hope you'll continue to
be the strength behind me and the one I can drop the rank and position
with."
	"You know you'll always have that... Is that all you'll want from me?"
	He's still balancing his own needs, waiting to see where I'll place myself
in his life. I want to ease the pain I see in his eyes. But I can't give
him everything he wants. I have to sacrifice some of me, some of us, for
them. They are my first responsibility.
	"On the ship, yes, that's what I want. Right now I want a little more."
	He stands there so rigid and still. I'm going to have to give him a little
help. I've wanted to know what it feels like. It's just a step forward, to
settle against his chest and fold my arms around his solid back. Hesitantly
at first, he returns the embrace, but then he lets his own instincts take
over. He relaxes his stance and adjusts himself to fit us together. His
head turns downward and his cheek rubs across mine. Then his mouth come
seeking.
	Softly at first, his relaxed lips brush mine and his warm breath mingles
with my own. My chest quivers with the first stirrings of desire and I open
to him. He accepts the invitation and brushes my lips with his tongue.
Slowly, he traces them, licking and retreating, tasting me. I want to do
the same, but force myself to let him lead. I can't stifle the sigh of
frustration though, and he hears it. His firm mouth returns and his tongue
dives in to dance with mine. I get my first taste of him and it's
intoxicating. He teases me, withdrawing so that I have to chase him past
his lips and into the warm recesses of his mouth. We become involved in
learning the tastes and textures of each other, taking turns with the
initiative.
      Our lower bodies join the dance and move closer, trying for the same
intimacy.  When I feel his desire, I suddenly realize where we're headed.
My own desires have risen just as quickly and it frightens me. I stop
still. I hadn't planned on this, and I'm not ready for it.	Chakotay stills
too and he steps back. His dark eyes sparkle in the low light. "I'm sorry."
	"No, don't be sorry. I'm just not quite ready. If we had more time..."
	"But we don't. They'll be here tomorrow."
	"Yes, tomorrow."
	Tomorrow we'll step back into our old roles, but I wonder if that will be
possible. I don't feel like the same person now and I don't see him as the
same person either. For the crew, we'll try, but...perhaps, someday, we can
be just Kathryn and Chakotay again.


____________________________________

RESOLVE
by Diane Nichols
____________________________________

	I wanted to take her in my arms after we heard from Tuvok, but she
wouldn"t let me. She stiffened, then pulled away, eyes averted. Before I
could speak, she was turning toward the shelter. "There's so much to do,"
she muttered. "Things to sort out, things to pack..."
	"He won't leave us behind if we're not standing on the corner with our
bundles in our arms, Kathryn," I said to her back. I wondered privately
about that, though. Tuvok had been looking for an excuse to get rid of me
for months, and when he found out how much matters had changed between his
captain and me, I had no doubt that he'd be more ready than ever to abandon
me on some pretext.
	"No, of course not, but our journey has already had so many delays. It's
not fair to the crew." Her voice sounded tired suddenly, although it was
still early morning and we'd slept in. "Chakotay, I--I need some time to
think. I can do it best if you'll just let me go inside and organize
things. Alone." She glanced back over her shoulder at me then, and I saw
that she had tears in her eyes.
	So, I let her go. I took a walk down to the river, where the boat I hadn't
had a chance to build would never sail. I heard that damn monkey screeching
from the upper branches of  the big tree that reminded me of a willow, and
I darted quickly to my left. A few seconds later, a piece of soft mushy
fruit dropped down, right where I had been standing. I was getting better
at avoiding the barrages of food and less pleasant things it always greeted
me with. It seemed to like Kathryn well enough, but obviously it was not
partial to me. Must have been a male monkey.
	A few hours later, I was still hanging around outside. The industrious
packing noises from inside the shelter had continued unabated for most of
that time, and I was beginning to wonder if she was taking the place apart
piece by piece, from the inside out. I sat with my back to the house, in
the middle of the clearing where the monkey couldn't reach me with its
missiles, and listened to the bumping and dragging and occasional soft
curses issuing from inside, and I thought back to the night, just two
nights ago, when I first told Kathryn I loved her.
	We had been "defining parameters" about our relationship--her words, of
course, her suggestion. I said that I didn't think I could do that, and
then I told her an ancient legend that I made up on the spot, about an
angry warrior who meets a woman, joins her tribe, and finds peace. A five
year old child could have seen through it, of course, and Kathryn had very
little difficulty figuring out what I was trying to tell her without saying
the words. She couldn't hide her smile, and for a second I felt my heart
sink because she was so obviously amused, but then I saw something in her
eyes that hit me square in the chest and made it literally impossible to
breathe. Acknowledgement, acceptance--I'm not sure what to call it--but I
could see that she understood, and that she was pleased. After a moment she
raised her hand and reached out to me, her movements tentative but her eyes
full of tenderness.
	I remembered to breathe, then, and I lifted my hand to hers, letting our
fingers mesh. I'm not sure how long we sat like that, holding hands,
watching each other. A single tear made its way down her cheek and part of
me wanted to lean forward and follow that shining path with my mouth, but I
couldn't seem to move, or to speak. It felt like an enchantment was holding
us there, motionless, perhaps for all eternity. The thought crossed my mind
that this was exactly the way I wanted to die, with Kathryn Janeway's eyes
on me and her fingers touching mine.
	Finally, she moved, giving a little shiver and glancing down at our
clasped hands. A rosy blush came creeping up her neck from the top of the
puritanical pajamas she'd taken to wearing around at night, as if covering
her body from chin to toes would make me less aware of her. Her hand jerked
as if she meant to break contact, and I heard my own voice, sounding
breathless like I'd been running for miles, saying the words I never
thought I'd have the chance to speak to her, words I had never even allowed
myself to utter in my dreams.
	"I love you, Kathryn. I love you. I love you." By the fourth or fifth
repetition, she figured out that I couldn't stop, and she pulled her hand
away, reached up and caught me by the head, and shut me up with a kiss.
	 Things get a little hazy, then. I remember thinking that she tasted of
peaches. I remember her fingers tracing the pattern of my tattoo, and then
sliding into my hair. I think that she cried some more. I know that I did.
It wasn't like I would have imagined it--if I had ever dared to imagine
it--a scene full of passion. It was beyond that. I wanted her, and I knew
she wanted me, but somehow it was enough just to know, as if taking our
time--we had the rest of our lives, didn't we?--would make each moment,
each small step forward, more precious. We ended that night standing in the
doorway of the shelter that had become our home, looking out into the
darkness with our arms around each other. After a few minutes, we kissed
goodnight, then turned to our separate corners of the house and went to
bed, not really apart, but not really together, not yet. I slept better
that night than I had in weeks.
	I awoke to the feel of something tickling my face--the end of Kathryn's
braid, which she was drawing gently across my cheek. I opened my eyes to
see her sitting on the edge of my bed, fully dressed. Sunlight was
streaming in the open door.
	"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," she said playfully, letting the braid fall
and reaching down to tweak my nose.
	I felt myself grinning, and I couldn't resist taunting her. "What's wrong,
Lady Kathryn, did you forget how to replicate your own breakfast? I've
spoiled you with my cooking, admit it."
	"Hmmph. You know that as long as I get my coffee, I could care less about
food in the morning," she said, trying for a note of petulance but
completely failing to reach it. She sounded girlishly happy, almost
excited, and she was pulling me up and out of bed before I even had a
chance to think of a clever reply. "Come outside, there's something I want
you to see."
	"Can I get dressed?" I asked. I was wearing my oldest pair of shorts and a
t-shirt, which was more than I normally wear to bed but still didn't leave
much to the imagination. She just gave a tug on my hand and led me outside.
We had set up one of the storage boxes as a table, and we sometimes ate out
there when the weather was nice. Glancing ahead, I saw that she had been
busy. There was a pot of coffee, steaming hot, and breakfast for two,
replicated pancakes and fresh fruit. Between the two plates was a beaker,
salvaged from the scientific equipment and miraculously whole, holding
flowers that looked a little bit like daisies, only smaller and bright
pink. She must have done all this while I slept. I was absurdly touched at
her gesture, and knew if I said anything at all it would come out as it had
the night before, so I just raised her hand and kissed it, then sat down to
the first breakfast on New Earth that I hadn't cooked myself, knowing that
it was going to be a very good day.
	It was. We puttered around all morning, going through our usual solitary
routines, but with a difference. I sometimes would wander far from the
shelter, looking for foodstuffs, getting to know the territory, but that
day I stayed nearby, close enough so that she could call if she needed me,
close enough so that I could hear her humming as she mucked in her garden
and could catch a glimpse of her from time to time as she moved around. I
found some mushrooms that had sprouted overnight, and a fresh patch of the
watercress-like greens which were her favorites. I watched the birds for a
while--this planet had yet to show us much wildlife except for Kathryn's
little primate friend and of course the insects that got us stranded here
in the first place, but there were several species of birds--and I added
several shiny blue-black feathers to my collection of treasures. With a
length of twine and a few beads which I could carve, they would make a nice
hair ornament, I thought. Another surprise, not as good as the bathtub,
maybe, but I thought that she would like it.
	I never got to make that hair ornament.

	We spent the afternoon down at the river. It had turned hot, and although
we pretended that we were going to do some fishing, we knew that we
wouldn't catch anything that day. It was a good excuse to loaf on the mossy
riverbank and tell each other tall tales about our adventures at the
Academy, each one more incredible than the last. I hadn't laughed that much
in years. I would catch Kathryn studying my face, and finally I asked her
what she was doing. She said that she was basking in my smiles, which were
usually so rare as to be almost mythological, but which suddenly seemed to
be very much a reality. She even added something silly about investigating
them as a possible alternate power source to the solar batteries. I told
her that I could also make her garden grow just by peeing on it, and she
hit me. It was a great afternoon.
	We both fell asleep at some point, then woke up hot and sweating. Without
thinking twice about it, I started peeling off my shirt.
	"Chakotay, what are you doing?" she asked in some alarm.
	"Skinnydipping. Come on." I left my clothes on the bank and plunged into
the river, swimming out a little ways before turning back to see what she
would do. She was standing there with her hands on her hips, in a stance
I'd seen a thousand times before on Voyager's bridge. She looked really
warm in her form-fitting jumpsuit. I watched and waited, treading water.
"It feels great, Kathryn, you should try it," I added helpfully.
	Finally, with what looked like total indifference but which I suspect
actually took considerable resolve, her hands raised to the fastenings of
the jumpsuit and she slipped it off. She glanced down at my underwear on
the riverbank next to her foot, then reached behind and undid her bra,
letting it fall on the grass. She removed her panties next, with an economy
of movement that awed me, and slowly stepped down into the water, wading
toward me with the grace of a queen.
	We spent most of the rest of the afternoon in the water, sometimes
swimming together or playing childish ducking games, sometimes idling in
the shallows under the shade of the willow tree whose branches hung down
nearly to the water. I tried to catch a fish in my hands to impress her. I
couldn't do it, but she did, and then she laughed so hard that she dropped
it. We stayed there for hours, so long that the early evening shadows were
lengthening by the time we walked back to the shelter, half-dressed and
with wrinkled skin, holding hands.

	I suppose that we had supper, but I don't remember the details of what I
cooked or what we ate, only that we managed to do it without breaking eye
contact. Her hair had dried in wild disarray, her cheeks were pink with
sunburn, and she was radiant, in spite of the fact that the dress she had
hastily and heedlessly changed into as I started dinner had a big smear of
dirt on the hem and was missing several buttons. We barely spoke, nothing
more than the courtesies of the table, but the silence was comfortable. I
found myself trying to read her face, knowing somehow that her quick
grimace while eating dessert came from the one sour berry that always
manages to hide among thesweet ones, and that the big smile she couldn't
hide as she watched me putting the remains of the meal away meant that she
was looking forward to another dessert, perhaps sweeter than the berries.
	I had thought that it might still be too soon. In all of the splashing
around that afternoon, we'd done a lot of touching, some of it accidental,
some of it not. Once, when I was behind her, peeling her water-slicked hair
away from her neck, my fingers had slipped down and come to rest on the
sensitive skin below her collarbone. She had caught her breath, then leaned
back into me, forcing my hand to continue its downward path. I could not
resist the urge to let my lips trail along the top of her shoulder or my
other hand lightly caress her hip. She obviously liked what I did, but
after a moment or two, she had pulled away and waded upstream, her
attention caught by a brilliantly-colored butterfly. It felt not like
teasing, but more like--savoring. I understood, because I wanted to make
those moments last forever, too.
	I could have waited. I'd thought I might have to wait forever, after all,
so somehow just knowing that Kathryn wanted me was enough for me.
	But if we had waited...
	...would it matter, that we hadn't?
	She was inside, now, dismantling our home, and my dreams.
	Would I go back to Voyager thinking "well, at least I had her once"? Once,
and never again. It had a frightening ring of truth to it, and the fear
struck me to the core as I listened to her thumping and banging away. I
wanted to go in there and tell her that what we had found was too precious
to waste. I wanted to beg her not to turn away from me. I wanted not to
talk at all, but just to touch her hair, to bury my face in it, and to feel
her hands on the back of my neck, pressing me closer. I wanted to hold her,
and be held.

	I didn't go inside. I went into the woods, revisiting familiar spots.
There, that was where I built her bathtub. The leftover scraps of wood were
still there, sweet smelling piles of shavings. I had invested so much
energy in that bathtub, and so much love, and I never even got to use it.
Farther on, that was where I'd found her the afternoon of the plasma storm,
grimly clutching her bugs to her chest and trying to forge ahead, to make
her way back to me. That day she had leaned on me, literally, for the first
time. In the aftermath of the storm, after she had wept for her losses and
for all that had happened to us, I think she leaned on me figuratively,
too. My words about acceptance, about living each day to the fullest,
seemed to inspire her, and she never looked back or bemoaned our fate.
"That's one way of letting go," she had said, and there was no trace of
bitterness in her voice, just determination, the kind of grit I'd come to
expect from her no matter how dire the circumstances...
	She never quits.
	Never gives up.
	Never turns her back on a challenge.
	So why am I so sure that she's inside, packing our future away?

	I sat down then, or maybe my legs gave out. As if I were not miserable
enough, I deliberately remembered the night before, the night that my
unspoken hopes became reality. She hadn't said a word, just smiled at me,
but I knew that she was ready. We made no pretense of doing other things;
she didn't pick up a padd and begin to read, and I didn't go back to the
boat design I'd been tinkering with.
	We came together in the center of the room, my arms enfolding her tightly.
She breathed a sigh into my ear, and then I was kissing her and she was
kissing me, and there was no turning back. After a full day of smiles and
touches, of hours spent in the river while we played innocent courting
games and studied each other's bodies unselfconsciously, knowing that the
fire was there but keeping it banked, suddenly we ignited. We undressed
each other with criminal haste, in a blur of hands and lips and touches.
When her fingers wouldn't cooperate as she tried to unbutton my shirt, she
simply tore it away, then grinned cheekily at me when I stared at her in
surprise. I felt huge and graceless, my hands suddenly too big, too rough
on her impossibly smooth skin, except that I knew from her throaty moans
that she didn't find them so. We sank onto the floor right there by the
table, unable to walk the few steps that would take us to her bed or to
mine. I could not wait, and she urged me forward. Some forces are too
strong, too elemental, for mere control. There on the hard floor, clothes
piled around us, I looked into Kathryn Janeway's eyes and saw eternity.
	Afterwards, I tried to apologize to her. She wouldn't let me. "I wanted
you that way," she said. "Next time will be time enough for soft words and
seductive touches. I wanted the storm, I wanted to feel the fire."
	I didn't accept that, not at first. We had been readying ourselves for
love all that long day, and maybe for much longer than that. She was the
woman of my dreams, of my soul, and I had taken her on the floor like a
rutting animal.
	"Like a warrior," she corrected me. I remembered the story I had told her
the night before, and I saw that she was thinking of it, too. She smiled,
and touched my face, her fingers tracing the curving lines on my forehead,
and suddenly I understood. Under her softness, the warrior that lived
within her had waited, sensing a kindred spirit, wanting to feel the shared
power. After we had soared to that height and stared into the abyss
together would come the time for gentleness. She would let me show her the
love I had never revealed to another, never known I could feel, but only
after we had burned together in the fires of a sudden, cleansing passion.
	And so it was. We moved from the floor over to her bed. It was too small,
too cramped for us, but somehow we managed to fit. There, where night after
night I had watched her shadow moving restlessly behind the privacy wall,
we lay together and listened to each other breathe, we talked and touched
and kissed. This time we came together in peace. There was no more urgency,
no driving need spurring us on. It was the river, again, when we had all
the time in the world, and the mutual resolve to make it perfect.
	 It was. I think it was. I can't remember the details, because when
Kathryn touches me, when I hear her voice murmuring my name with that
inflection that only she gives it, as if saying it gives her some secret
pleasure, I find that for those precious moments I can forget everything
but her. I wonder now, where was this woman during the years when my
thoughts burned holes in my soul, when I believed nothing and cared about
less than nothing? She could have healed me with a smile, a whisper. But
had I not gone through what I had, had I not been that angry warrior, would
she have given me her smiles or her whispers? Perhaps not. Perhaps what
made this night so perfect was the paths we had taken to get there.
	I sat in the woods and thought about that. I made myself remember Voyager,
and all we had been through since the day she chased me into the Badlands
and we ended up in the Delta Quadrant. We had lived with so much adversity,
so much doubt. I had tried, from the moment that she chose me, to be the
kind of first officer I might have been had the Cardassians and my own
guilt not come between me and my career in Starfleet. I believed from the
very first that she deserved my best, and that I came to her with a clean
slate. And yet, so many of our troubles with the Kazon, with Seska, seemed
directly caused by things I had done, decisions I had made. I tried to make
them right, and sometimes I only succeeded in making them worse. I felt for
a time that I had lost my captain's trust. I know that it wavered, and I
know that she was right to doubt me, but that just strengthened my resolve
to prove to her that she had made the correct choice, the only possible
choice, the choice that would best enable us to get home.
	Home. The idea that keeps us all sane, that convinces us to get out of bed
every day--how ironic that for me, this tiny shelter on a nameless planet
we called New Earth had felt more like home than my war-torn homeworld ever
had. I had honored the need my shipmates felt toreturn to the Alpha
Quadrant, back to loved ones, families, careers. I had given my utmost
effort to see to it that in fact we would someday make it back--but
although I gave it lip service, I had never shared that dream. For me, home
was not an option, not until an insect bite had changed the course of my
life and that of the woman who had been my commanding officer...the woman
who, in a little more than a day, would resume that role, and take my home
away from me...
	How was it going to happen? Would she tell me that sacrifices must be
made, that good officers put the needs of their crews first? Would she tell
me anything at all? As captain, it was her right not to have to explain her
decisions to me, even a decision such as this one, which involved me so
directly and so intimately. As her first officer, it was my duty to obey
her in this, not to question, not to doubt. She would do the right thing,
and unless she asked me for my opinion, I had no right to give it. And
yet--as her first officer I had certain responsibilities, to show her the
possibilities, the alternatives, the differing perspectives. I could not
insist, but I could suggest. Only, suggest what?
	I didn't know. I could not see any clear solution to this problem we
faced. To continue our relationship and somehow make it bend to fit the
command structure seemed, if not impossible, certainly daunting--but to go
on without it seemed even more impossible. She can't order me not to love
her, and as good a captain as she is, I don't believe that she can stop
loving me, either. We had come so far together. We had begun as enemies,
become uneasy allies, then moved through successive stages of doubt,
acceptance, and approval. We were partners, a unit which we both knew was
stronger than either of us could possibly be individually--and all of that
happened before either of us so much as admitted to ourselves that our
professional relationship was becoming personal. We might have acknowledged
friendship, back on Voyager. We might have talked uncomfortably about how
we were becoming a family, and conveniently overlooked the heat that
sometimes radiated between us. Maybe we would have agreed that the teasing
remarks and shared glances were a flirtation of sorts, but nothing more.
Nothing serious. Nothing that could interfere with our duties to our cause,
and our crew. And what of our duties to ourselves? To each other? Didn't we
have the right, even the responsibility to see this through? What we had
shared, not just the passion but the gradual growing together, the birth of
love, was surely something good, something positive, an unlooked-for gift
that had blessed us both. I could not--can never--turn my back on it, and I
believe that it is the same for her.
	I looked around me, seeing that the morning had passed while I sat and
bemoaned my fate and did nothing to assure that it would turn out the way I
knew in my soul that it was meant to. I couldn't wait until it was tomorrow
and I was once again in uniform to offer counsel to my captain. I would
have to do it today, as her lover, her friend, and her first officer. I
stood up and strode off toward the shelter, filled with resolution. I would
make her listen to me, and she would see the sense in my words. From above,
I heard the shriek of my impish rival, and I heard the splat of something
nameless hit the ground behind me, but my steps never faltered.  I had
thought so much about home, and I was just beginning to realize that the
physical dimensions of that place didn't matter. Whether in a tasteful grey
and beige box on a planet we called New Earth, or on a battlescarred but
still beautiful starship en route to the Alpha Quadrant, my home would be
wherever Kathryn Janeway was.

	"Kathryn, we have to talk about this," I said firmly. I stood in the
doorway, uneasy. The interior of the house looked mostly the same to me,
though I could see that she had packed a few of her personal belongings.
All that crashing and banging--what had she been doing for the past four
hours?
	She glanced up at me from her seat at the table, her expression grave. I
saw that she held something in her hands--the flat rock I had found on our
first full day here, the one I had been carving away at for months, that
when finished would be a blessing for this house, and for our union. She
smoothed her fingertips across the symbols, then set it carefully down on
the table, folding her hands and looking fully at me. "I know," she said.
	"You know?"
	"I know that we have to talk. We have so many decisions to make, and they
must be made together." She smiled. "I--I don't share control easily, not
even after all these weeks when we've been so much more to each other than
captain and first officer." Her smile faltered. "But I realize that I can't
do this alone, not now."
	I let the breath I didn't even know I'd been holding out in one explosive
exhalation, and felt my rigidly-held body relax suddenly against the
doorframe, understanding that her simple words--"I can't do this
alone"--referred to much more than the discussion we were to have and the
decisions we were to make. She smiled again, possibly in amusement at my
reaction to her words, then deliberately, slowly, she held her hand out to
me.


____________________________________

DIFFERENT RESOLUTIONS
by Lisa Oh
____________________________________

	Chakotay was the first to break the silence. "I guess we won't be taking
that camping trip after all."
	Janeway glanced at him, startled. Here was a man with whom circumstances
had thrown her. Here was a man who promised his unending devotion to her.
Here was a man whom she was willing to spend the rest of her life with,
working beside him on this deserted planet which they were just beginning
to call...home. Their fates were about to change yet again, and the future
she had envisioned was wiped out and replaced with another. Kathryn Janeway
found herself strangely saddened.
	"Well, we have less than 30 hours before Voyager gets here. We'd better
start to get our things together." Without waiting for a response, she
turned and headed for her work station. She could feel his eyes follow her
as she gathered her data padds and books. After a few moments she felt him
turn away and engage in a similar task. They worked silently for hours,
eyes carefully avoiding each other.
	It felt unnatural for both. Over the past four months, their relationship
had grown rapidly. When he had admitted his feelings for her a few weeks
ago, she was delightfully happy. Looking back, she realized that the
attraction was there from the beginning, but they were forced to keep a
distance, for the sake of the ship. She became aware of the possibilities
for their relationship and it excited her. She made up her mind to explore
these possibilities, but to take things slowly. After all, a lifetime was
at their disposal. The jokes and the laughter came naturally. So did her
playful jabs when he teased her, his arm around her waist when they walked
together, and the lingering of their eyes when they said goodnight.
	Little by little, she began to accept the life on this planet as their
future...until several hours ago, when Tuvok contacted them with the news
that the cure for the virus had been found. In less than 24 hours, they
would be returning to Voyager as Captain and Commander, and not...
	"Kathryn."
	She jumped, and whirled around to face Chakotay.
	"It's getting pretty late. I think we should get some sleep. We can finish
the rest tomorrow."
	She looked around and was surprised to find that it had become dark.
	"Yes, I suppose you're right. We don't want to be still asleep when
Voyager gets here."
	Chakotay smiled. "Or worse. The crew will never forgive me if they find
their captain passed out from sheer exhaustion." He returned the smile that
lighted her face. "Well, goodnight, Kathryn. See you in the morning."
	"Yes. Goodnight." They turned and went to their beds, each knowing full
well that rest would be the last thing that would be accomplished that
night.
	Kathryn was tired, but sleep was slow in coming. The excitement of seeing
her ship again, mixed with sorrow at having to abandon the life she and
Chakotay were building, agitated her. She sat up, wincing at the sharp pain
in her neck.
	Chakotay. Being together 24 hours a day, they had become extremely
sensitive to each other's moods and conditions. Even if she didn't say a
word, he would come over, massaging her shoulders till she felt so relaxed
that she forgot what she was doing. Chakotay. From the day they were on
this planet, he worked hard to make a home for them, to make it more
comfortable for her, even when she resisted in hopes of finding a cure for
the virus.
	In less than a day, she would have to call him Commander, and he must call
her Captain. On the bridge, they would keep physical and eye contact to a
minimum. When the shift was over, they would each retire to their own
quarters after a cordial goodnight. They had to redraw the lines around
them which had become so faint during the last few months.
	Chakotay. With whom she was falling deeply in love. Kathryn suddenly felt
a desperate need for air. She got out of bed and walked briskly out the
door into the cool night.

	Chakotay lay on his bed, listening to Kathryn toss and turn. Apparently,
sleep was eluding her as much as it was himself. Being contacted by Tuvok
that afternoon was the last thing he could have anticipated. He fully
expected to live out his life on this planet, surrounded by the wilderness.
Although he was distressed that he would never see his home again, being
with Kathryn made it easy for him to adjust to the new life. He was very
happy with their developing relationship. He was touched--and relieved--to
see her happiness when he told her of his feelings for her, that smile when
he told her the "ancient legend" of the angry warrior--the smile that
rarely left her face when she was with him. It was all he could do to
restrain himself from taking her face in his hands and holding it next to
his. He wanted to take that smile with him to bed, keep it next to him,
revisit it in his dreams.
	He knew she needed time, so he was perfectly content to wait for her, till
her feelings caught up to his. He again vowed to himself, as they sat with
their fingers entwined, there would be nothing he would not do for her.
	So when he heard her get up and go out of the house, he resisted the urge
to follow her. He gave her space. He was well aware that once they were
back on Voyager, the direction that their relationship was headed must
change, that they would go back to being the Captain and the First Officer.
He would work alongside her, always sensitive to the needs of her and of
the crew. He would stand beside her in every situation they faced, and back
each decision she made. Off duty, he would be her close and loyal friend,
nothing more. He would hide his longing for her. He would do all this
because he knew that it was what she wanted.
	What she wanted...
	Chakotay jumped out of bed and dressed quickly.
	He stopped at the doorway, watching her frame silhouetted by the
moonlight. She was standing with her back to him, staring at the Talaxian
tomato plants she had transplanted the day before. The double moon of this
planet illuminated her hair, which tumbled down her back in a disarray that
he found extremely alluring. He stared, transfixed, until he realized that
she was crying. Her hands clutched tightly at the sides of her nightgown.
He felt his breath quicken as he closed the distance between them in two or
three steps. He took her in his arms, not very gently, and held her tightly
against his chest. He lowered his head, breathing into her hair and
fighting his own tears that threatened to escape from his eyes and mingle
with her hair, for an indeterminable amount of time, until her sobs eased.
Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes, moist from tears. She gave him a
smile that could have lit up the night sky, brighter than all the moons
combined. His heart stopped at the sight. All he wanted to do was to keep
that smile from leaving, to keep it even after it left her face. He did the
only thing he could think of at that moment. He covered her mouth with his.

	They kissed hungrily, passionately. She put one of her hands behind his
neck, gently tickling his hairline with her fingers. His hands freely
caressed her back, exploring places he hadn't dared till now. The last of
the barriers that separated them was being shattered with each kiss.
Kathryn quickly let go of any hesitation that might have still lingered and
returned his caresses. He responded by deepening the kiss, pulling her
closer to him.
	They separated long enough to catch up on their breaths. He looked down at
her flushed countenance and saw the desire that was clearly evident.
Putting his hands on each side of her face, his thumbs gently wiped away
the remnants of her tears. Softly, he kissed her forehead, the tip of her
nose, then her lips. Still kissing her, he gathered her up in his arms and
carried her inside the house.

	As consciousness gradually returned, Kathryn became aware of the arm that
encircled her torso and the slow and steady breathing of the man on whose
chest she rested her head. By the light she could feel on her eyelids, she
knew it was morning. Yet she resisted opening her eyes, recalling last
night's events and how she had wished this morning would never come. She
smiled sadly when she felt his fingertips run down the length of her arm.
"Well," she thought. "Looks like we have to face the day after all."
	She lifted her head from his chest and looked into his eyes. "Sleep well?"
he asked, with a slight smile. Kathryn opened her mouth to reply, but found
herself kissing him instead. They hugged each other tightly, reveling in
the warmth of their skin. With much reluctance they pulled away from each
other and got up to get dressed.

	Chakotay stopped at the doorway to see Kathryn standing almost exactly as
he had found her the last night, with her back to him, staring at the
tomato plants she would never see to maturity--except this time, she was
dressed in the red and black Starfleet uniform, and her hair was in an
immaculate bun. Only her hunched shoulders gave away her distress.
Resisting the strong urge to put his arms around her, Chakotay slowly
walked up to her, knowing that when she looked at him, it would be Captain
Janeway he faced.
	"Ready?" When she turned and nodded, her composure was almost back. He
looked away, trying to find his own composure, when they heard the
now-familiar chirp of a monkey. He watched her say goodbye to the monkey,
and said a silent goodbye of his own to this planet, this life, and the
night before.
	However, when she turned and walked up to him, for a moment their eyes
locked in a glance that was more powerful than any words spoken, more
intimate than any embrace of the body. With a racing heart, he realized
that they simply could not return to the strictly professional relationship
of four months ago. They could never be just Captain and the First Officer,
command structure and protocol be damned.

	Oh, God. What have we done? For the first time in her life, Janeway was
entirely at a loss of what to do, and it terrified her. Back on the Bridge,
she kept her back stiff, eyes straight ahead, and her voice calm and
authoritative when she addressed her First Officer.
	"Commander, we'll need to review the ship's systems. I'll handle
propulsion, environment, and communications. You'll be responsible for
sensors, weapons, and transporters."
	"Aye, Captain. I'll have a report to you by 1800 hours." His voice was as
equally devoid of emotion.
	"Check with Phaser Maintenance. See if they solved that problem with the
pre-fire chamber temperature."
	"Yes, ma'am. I'll see to it." Fully aware of each other's struggling
emotions, they plunged themselves in their work.
	When the door to her ready room chimed at 1800 hours, Janeway found
herself unable to speak. Catching up with four months worth of reports had
made it easy to avoid being alone with each other up until now. Janeway
found herself suddenly terrified. Her voice sounded hollow and forced when
she managed to find it at last.
	"Come."
	The door opened to admit Chakotay, data padd in hand. He stopped in front
of her desk and stood silently, waiting. Slowly Janeway stood and lifted
her eyes to his. His next word, though it was simple, made her want to weep
in relief and happiness:
	"Kathryn."


____________________________________

1800 HOURS
by E. Klisiewicz
____________________________________

	My people like to perpetuate the myth that we don't live by the clock, but
my ancestors weren't in Starfleet. I wore a precision chronometer on my
wrist, and checked it often that day we returned to Voyager.
	I want your report by 1800 hours. What else did she want from me? And I
had called her ma'am. She hated that and I had used it deliberately to
irritate her. After I said it, I regretted it. Janeway was not someone I
wanted to alienate. Tuvok and Paris, maybe, but not Kathryn. The easy
camaraderie we had enjoyed on New Earth seemed like a thin morning mist
that had burned off with the morning sun.
	I looked at her surreptitiously while I made busy noises on the center
console. Her golden brown hair was neatly coiled in that godawful bun and
her eyes were glued to her PADD as her lightning fast mind absorbed system
analysis reports. How did she do it? Did nothing affect her? Perhaps it was
all an act, and she was having as much difficulty concentrating as I was. I
tried to tell myself this, but I knew better. She slipped back into command
mode like she had never left the ship. Suddenly, she felt my eyes on her
and returned my rather frank stare with a curious glance.
	I smiled slightly and her mouth quirked up in that way she has that I like
so much. Kathryn and I share a rather dry sense of humor, and that
particular expression was never far from the surface. The moment was not
lost on certain helmsmen who should have better things to do with their
time. Paris smirked at me from his forward position before returning his
attention to work.

	Yes, Ma'am. His calm utterance of those two words got under my skin, just
as he intended. Chakotay had an uncanny way of cutting to the heart of the
matter, and I rather think that his verbal skills have replaced the bow and
arrow as a weapon.
	On numerous occasions, I had corrected my staff when they resorted using
Ma'am. God, it made my skin crawl to hear it--it rather reminded me of Vice
Admiral Finch, my archaeology professor at the academy. Any sense of humor
she might have possessed was dead and buried, much like the subject we
studied. If she did have another life, she never let one speck of it
interfere with her duty as an officer and professor. Three times a week at
0800 hours she marched into that classroom--her uniform freshly starched
and her boots shined to a high polish. She was so stiff that we often said
if she dared smile, she'd crack into a million fragments. Finch insisted
that we call her Ma'am, and she ruled her classes with an iron fist. And
now, decades later, my Maquis warrior had the nerve to call me that awful
word. It conjured up images of time spent in the cobwebbed basement of the
Academy library, researching an equally dusty subject. To this day, I
avoided potshards and fragments of ancient civilizations like the plague.
This was something I would never tell Chakotay, for I did so like to hear
his legends. However, I did have to do something about this Ma'am business.
	As I scanned the data on my PADD, I saw his darting looks in my direction.
Those warm brown eyes touched on my hair, my lips and the curve of my
cheek. Heat rushed into my face, and it was a good thing he couldn't see
the effect those casual glances had on me as they smote me with their
understated intensity--laying my few defenses bare. I was effecting a
deliberately studious pose--one I had perfected at the Academy when I
wanted to shut out the world. Was I fooling him? I decided to sneak in a
glance of my own and was caught in his snare. Chakotay rewarded me with a
slight smile--one that turned up that lovely mouth just enough to show his
dimples. How could I help but smile back? He was so utterly charming...
Yes, we really did have to have a talk at 1800 hours. I sighed and returned
to my reports.

	The reports she wanted were done at 1500 hours, so I had to spend three
interminable hours touring the ship. I don't think I could have stood it on
the bridge another minute. With nothing to occupy my mind except Kathryn, I
would go slowly mad with frustration. Finally, my chronometer chimed a one
minute warning and I marched double time to her Ready Room.
	"Come in." I walked quickly to her desk and handed her the PADD with all
the requested data. She gave it a quick perusal and nodded in satisfaction.

	"Good job, Commander. It appears that all systems are normal." Her tone
was dismissing me already, but I sensed something restless in her body's
posture.
	"Is there something else, Captain?" I looked at her questioningly and she
gave me a tiny nod. She made no move to leave her desk, effectively using
it as a barrier between us.
	"Yes, sit down, won't you?" She indicated the chair in front of her desk,
but I ignored her direction and walked over to the couch by the viewport. I
sat there and pulled my best inscrutable Indian face until she sighed and
joined me a safe distance away.
	"Captain..."
	"Chakotay..."
	Our confusion broke the tension and we both laughed. At my nod, she said,
"I wish you wouldn't call me Ma'am..." Her voice trailed off, but I knew
she was thinking of far more than just a simple word. I waited patiently,
knowing she would continue when she was ready. "Chakotay, there's no need
to call me Captain when we're alone."
	I could see how difficult it had been for her to bring this up. She was
using a name to define the parameters of our relationship now that we were
back on duty. Those dark blue eyes locked onto mine and waited for an
answer.
	"All right, then what should I call you, Ma'am?" I threw her an innocent
glance and she responded with a marvelous peal of laughter.
	"You aren't going to make this easy, are you--Angry Warrior?" Kathryn's
mischievous glance and quirky smile got to me, and suddenly the tension was
back, thicker than ever. I slid closer to her and took her hand in mine.
She looked down at this chaste joining and her eyes returned to my face,
studying it intensely as if its contours revealed the mysteries of the
universe.
	I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it gently, not releasing it for an
instant. I could not allow this fragile connection to sever, because I
might not get another chance like this. As I caressed that still callused
hand with my thumb, I chose my words cautiously. "There is a saying..."
	She groaned and laughed, her hand still captured in mine. "Tell me,
Chakotay, do Native Americans really have a saying for every situation?"
	I grinned at her and shook my head. "Alas, no. But it sounds good, doesn't
it?" Her answering laughter prodded me to continue.
	"Kathryn, I think the easy, well travelled path would be rather boring,
don't you? I prefer to explore the unknown fork in the road. Would you care
to join me?"
	Her expression spoke volumes and she nodded with a smile before she
tightened her hand around mine and our gazes entwined before turning to the
heavens outside. Wherever our journey took this good ship, we would be
among friends--good friends.


____________________________________

A REAL RESOLUTION
by Hannah R. Henriksson
____________________________________

	He stared down at the little tomato plant, watching the way the leaves
teased his fingers as he traced the narrow stem from tip to root. It was
small, still; only three days had passed since Kathryn--Captain
Janeway--had reclaimed it from the plot in which she had carefully planted
a dozen of its siblings, and any growth it had managed in the upheaval was
unnoticeable.
	Chakotay wondered absently if she had been down to check on its progress
since she had transported it from New Earth to Kes's waiting hands. For a
short time, Kathryn--Janeway--had been so methodical about watching the
transformation from seed to sprout to small, but recognizable, tomato
plant.
	He heard himself chuckle. He had teased her that she was going to spend
more time washing the dirt off her clothes than actually growing anything
edible, and she had narrowed her eyes at him with mock menace while
brushing at the offending dirt with exaggerated gestures. Finally, she had
laughed, and he had gone happily to heat water for her bath.
	Chakotay had walked slowly away from the fruit section of the hydroponics
bay, and now sat heavily on a bench near the flowers. He could readily call
up a picture of Captain Janeway's face when Kes had suggested putting
benches in the bay--her face lit up like a firefly on a summer night, her
eyes glowed-- what a marvelous idea she had said, or something of that
nature.
	She had the same look on her face, in her eyes, when he had let her open
her eyes and finally see the secret project he had finished: her bathtub.
Sometimes, he mused, it was amazing how easy it was to make her happy. Like
the "ancient tale" he told her of the brave warrior--he'd never expected
the tears, that smile, the touch ...
	He leaned forward on the bench, gripping the edges of the seat with his
hands. He hadn't realized, until he'd been obliged to put it back on, how
uncomfortable their uniforms could be. To make her happy, to make things
easier, he had taken to wearing the uniform most of the time when the
voyage began, even off duty. It was a symbolic gesture for the benefit of
the Maquis crew, but he did it as much for her as he did for the message.
It pleased her.
	Now, though, he knew that they were past that, and he wore civvies, left
over from their stay on New Earth. After all, he had found other ways to
please her.
	"Hey."
	A slight smile spread over his face before he looked up, and when he met
Janeway's--Kathryn's--eyes, he noted the same smile.
	"Hey," he responded.
	"I know it's a cliche, but...is this seat taken?" She indicated the half
of the bench not taken up by him, the half he had left empty for her.
	"Looks like it is to me," he offered, and followed her with his eyes as
she lowered herself onto the bench. Her hair was down, and, most
surprisingly, she wore one of the dresses that had made the return trip
with them from the planet. "You look wonderful."
	She blushed, an echo of the same blush that struck when she had realized
he was more than a little interested in the towel she wore during their
first encounter with the mysterious little monkey--when she had realized
that his hands had stilled on her shoulders during that unexpected backrub.
He loved that he could do that to her.
	"Thanks," she said, and the slightly huffed tone told him that she didn't
appreciate her body's involuntary responses. Her voice was warmer when she
added, "Were you waiting long?"
	She was reaching a hand to him, then, and his fingers intertwined
comfortably with hers, as instinctive a bond as long-time lovers share. He
squeezed gently.
	"No. Not at all." A lock of hair had fallen in front of her shoulder, and
he took it in his other hand, tracing it with fingertips as carefully as he
had the tomato plant stem. He leaned in to kiss her cheek; she put a hand
up to push him away, teasingly, but changed her mind halfway and circled
around the back of his neck instead, pulling him into her.
	He listened to her breathe for a long moment, his forehead pressed to
hers. So fleeting, these moments, when she finally let her guard down, sure
of not being discovered by the crew. He closed his eyes, inhaling her
scent, hoping that this moment would never pass.
	"I never expected this, Commander," she chuckled deeply, and he could feel
the rumbling purr of her throat where his own palm rested against her neck.
"This is one contingency I didn't plan for."
	"I know, Kathryn," he answered slowly, kissing her face again, moving his
mouth towards hers. Her throaty giggle was contagious, and he worked hard
not to lose himself in her laughter. "But sometimes..."
	He gave in to the laughter then, and, releasing hands, they embraced into
an impenetrable mass.
	"Sometimes what...Chakotay?" she whispered as he reached for the barrette
that held her hair at the crown of her head.
	He freed the rest of her hair, and loosened it around her face. Pausing
just before pressing his lips to hers, he said, "Sometimes the most
unexpected things can be the most rewarding."

____________________________________

THE BOAT
by Laura A. Williams
____________________________________

	For days afterwards, he dreamed about the boat.
	Usually it came to him amidst a chaos of images--trees and tomato plants,
thin shoulders in moonlight, the second plasma storm, the one that caught
them asleep in their respective alcoves and forced them to take shelter in
the newly-built log room. That ridiculous monkey. A whirl of dream-shapes,
flashes of memory, or imagination.
	But always they slowed and stilled, settled down into the boat, the one he
never built.
	In his dreams they sailed down the river, pushed by the current and the
wind, rocking gently down the straight stretches, trembling through the
little rapids. He sat behind her, steering the boat without ever taking his
eyes from her hair, sometimes lifted on the breeze, sometimes hanging over
her shoulders, sometimes lying still in a thick, damp braid. When he closed
his eyes he could feel it against his palm; he would have leaned forward to
touch it, but the gear stowed between them in the bottom of the boat
prevented the movement. And so he sat and watched, and wished.
	Wished some more when they pulled the boat onto the shore so that they
could eat and rest, talk and bathe. He watched her; she knew he watched,
but said nothing. She was a little self-conscious, even now, even still.
She kept her back to him while she bathed in the middle of the river--as if
a few meters of water between them would keep him from noticing her. Often,
she talked to him while she bathed, pointing out details of the flora
around them, the color of the sky above them, the texture of the pebbles
beneath her feet.
	Their feet. Eventually, after a week of bathing in the river only after
she had dried and dressed and retreated to her half of the tent, he
stripped and waded out after her. Slipped into the river behind her,
shuddering a little at the unexpected cold against the heat of his skin.
She turned to face him, her eyes widening a little, and he stopped,
submerged to his belly, his head tilted to one side, questioning. The
current swirled around him but he stood firm until she raised her chin and
reached for him, her arms stretched toward him, her hands lightly skimming
the surface of the water. He moved to her, his hands touched hers, their
fingers laced easily, comfortably, as they had once before. Both of them
smiling suddenly, they met in the middle of the river. Peering into her
face, he laughed.
	"What's so funny?"
	"You have new freckles."
	"I do not." But she reached to cover them, pulling her fingers from his. 	
	"You do. Right here." He leaned over and kissed the bridge of her nose,
then pulled back to see her reaction.
	She lowered her eyes and rubbed the spot he had kissed, then looked up at
him with a mischievous smile. "Well, you have a tan line. Right here." She
placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled herself a little out of the
water, high enough to nuzzle his neck just above his collar bone. He felt
her lips open on him for an instant only before she started to slide back
into the water. He caught her before she could slip away completely, held
her tight against him, the smile fading from his face.
	"Kathryn..."
	"No," she said softly, but almost in the old tone, the tone of a command.
"No words. No ancient legends, no tribal sayings. Nothing. Understand?"
	He nodded, let her slip away from him, let her guide him out of the water,
let her pull him down into the soft moss at the river's edge. Let her lead
him, over and over, until he lay exhausted with his head resting on her,
sighing, sleeping, dreaming about the boat.

FIN