Disclaimer: I would like to humbly thank Paramount and all those affiliated with Star Trek over the years for giving me so much enjoyment and entertainment over the last 30+ years. Don't think of this as abridging your copyright, guys, think of it as a tribute to your success and influence in my life. It's not like I'm making money off this.

Summary: An Endgame Resolution. That pun is intended.

Rating: PG for a very few Klingon (and other) vulgarities.

Author's note: Appreciation can not be sufficiently expressed to Caffey, Kerry and Jade for their beta reading. Any references to their names in the text are entirely coincidental (yeah, right!) Also to Anne, for the beautiful title graphic, as well as all the help getting this site up and running. And if anyone knows where I first heard the term "newsgate", please let me know. I'd like to thank that person - it's a great term.

Further thanks must be extended to my personal librarian, the library that supports us and its wonderful collection; National Geographic; Caffey for teaching me how to google (this story is three times longer than it was going to be due to her efforts); various websites on cloud forests, free-climbing, monkeys and of course, llamas. No llamas were hurt in the process of producing this fic.

Spring, 2002

He admired her from behind for several minutes in the market before he realized just who she was. Her hair was so much shorter, wispy around her neck and ears. The bright white sundress with embroidery looked locally made, the fine necklace complementing something that sparkled around her ears.

"Hello, Chakotay!" she waved at him when, stunned, he met her eyes.

"Kathryn! Spirits! What are you doing here?"

"Shopping!" she laughed with sheer delight, shaking a jute bag that bulged in several directions. "What a lovely town."

"Why here?" As delighted as he was to see her, it seemed very odd that she would shop in Café Montigua.

She took his arm and steered him toward a sidewalk café under a bright pink canopy. "The coffee, Chakotay. The coffee."

Despite nearly two years since their return to the Alpha Quadrant, despite the fact that he had not seen her in most of that time, and not at all since the debriefings ended, he knew when she was lying. What's more, she expected him to know it. But here she was, pulling out a chair to sit him down in a town that was the closest thing he had to a home in the galaxy since Voyager's decommissioning.

"I like this town, Chakotay. The people are so pleasant, the coffee is so rich, it's just so beautiful here." Kathryn, in any guise, did not gush.

"It is a beautiful town. How did you find it?"

"Seven told me you'd brought her here, and I thought I might find you here." She ordered a coffee and awaited his order quietly.

"A bottle of chiraz, with some fruit." He ordered without looking at the menu.

"Chiraz?"

"It's a locally made beer."

She rested her chin on one palm. "What have you been doing with yourself?"

Ah. She didn't wear a single insignia of Starfleet, but the question bore every mark of it. In some deep spot in his heart, he appreciated that she wanted to know, but on the surface, he was annoyed. Surely a woman on the fast track to being an admiral wasn't needed to check up on him. "I spent a lot of time on Qo'NoS with B'Elanna and Tom recently."

"So I heard," she said. "Did you enjoy it?"

"It's a remarkable planet. I'd never been there before."

"Never?" She knew.

He ducked the question. "Have you been there?"

"Once or twice, I think."

"And now you're here."

She stretched her neck out, looking around the pleasant café. "So I am. What are you doing here?"

That was a question he really didn't want to answer. He pulled on his ear, turning his face to look at the marketplace.

"Is there anything worth seeing?" she asked, ignoring his silence.

"My mother's house was over there a few blocks."

"Not quite open for tourists, I expect."

"Not quite."

The waiter put down her coffee, and had brought two glasses with his beer.

"Have you gone up to the grove?"

"No, no one has been available to guide me."

He had forgotten it was the beginning of the rainy season; time to prepare the grove and the trees for the coming year's growth. "I'll take you up if you'd like."

Blue eyes were laughing, but instinctively he knew that he wasn't the butt of the joke. He wondered who else was watching the commanding officers of the starship Voyager that she needed to talk to him alone and she wanted to do it as discreetly as possible.

"I'd like that very much." She smiled over her cup. "Have you ever been up further on the mountain, into the cloud forest?"

It was serious indeed, if she was willing to go that far up the mountain. Chakotay took a small sip of the beer and approved it before pouring into her glass. She lifted it quickly, but awaited his toast.

"To Voyager."

Her eyes smiled, her face exploded into a blinding grin. "To Voyager."

They drank companionably, and she nibbled a few of his grapes when he pushed the plate toward her.

"So, Kathryn."

"So, Chakotay."

There was another silence as Chakotay carefully scanned the marketplace around them. The other Starfleet officer wasn't hard to find, even in mufti. His stiff posture at the village fountain, the odd glances at them that made him twist his head awkwardly past the point of comfort; Tuvok was better at undercover surveillance than this man.

"What brings you here, Chakotay?" she asked quietly.

"Lots of things," he hedged. "Family, treasure, coffee..."

"Treasure?" She didn't quite smile. "You're on a treasure hunt?"

"I've been told there's a treasure up there on the mountain. I was thinking I'd try to find it on this visit."

"What sort of treasure?"

"I don't know." She looked skeptical at his denial. "A family treasure."

"Really?" she drawled. "How will you find it?"

Electricity filled the air. That tone of voice always meant trouble for him. It had led to stealing a transwarp coil. It led to destroying Unimatrix Zero. It led them home.

"Come with me."

"To find the treasure?"

"Yes. Come with me."

She took a full minute before she answered. "Yes."

Outfitting Kathryn required a visit to the local shops, where the sundress disappeared and a sturdy pair of heavy twill pants covered her legs. The jute bag was exchanged for a kit for three nights in a cooler climate, and the most rainproof gear she could buy was stored into her backpack. Her boots, however, were a little more difficult to procure.

Chelipto had nothing narrow enough for her foot, and the replicator was broken. The older woman had offered to have something beamed in from Guatemala City, but that would take several hours for them to produce and send. In the end, Kathryn called her sister and asked for her sturdiest boots to be shipped to the hotel where she was staying, and in a few hours, they were ready for the trip, even if the weather was not. The rains were warm to them at the lower altitude, but Chakotay knew that the steaminess of the village streets would be uncomfortably cool in the coffee grove, and the trek into the cloud forest would be dangerous if they were soaked from the rain and got chilled.

In the end, they went back to the hotel, and consulting a PADD from Chakotay's pack, they were beamed to a remote meadow above the rain clouds that were pelting Café Montigua.

He turned quickly to her. "Why are you here?"

She smiled and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I thought you asked me to come."

"I did. You wanted me to."

"I did?" Her blue eyes twinkled at him, and she carefully sat down on the grass, loosening her pack.

"You did."

She pulled out her water bottle and offered him a drink. "I did. It's a clever way to get you out of town, Chakotay. No one's going to get those coordinates from the hotel to find you."

"Who wants to find me?" He asked, puzzled.

"One guess. Big, grey and ugly. What have you been doing, Chakotay?"

Two years before.  

Seven appeared to be puzzled at Chakotay, but he didn't notice. She had tried three times on their trip back to his quarters, asking him to explain his frustration, but he either ignored her questions or glared at her with intense anger. Either way, she still did not understand. But she would not inquire again.

B'Elanna's voice was quite audible in the corridor outside Chakotay's quarters as she stomped down the hall. Chakotay pulled her into his rooms and grabbed her arms. "We're going to do something about it."

"Fo'Gah, we're going to do something about it!" B'Elanna replied with heat.

Tom followed with Miral in his arms. "What do you have in mind?"

The Maquis looked at each other.

The reception at the public residence of the President of the Federation was full of political glitterati, royal house representatives from forty-five different planets, more than a dozen governing presidents and rulers. It was the Federation's welcome home to Voyager after Starfleet's extravaganza that had culminated with Captain Kathryn Janeway receiving Starfleet's highest honor for a living officer, the Golden Double Star Cluster with Diamonds. Only seventeen had been awarded in the history of Starfleet, and only one other in the past decade. She, in turn, presented the Golden Double Star Cluster to each one of her crew.

This party was technically less formal, but Chakotay found himself in his most formal white dress uniform, escorting a stunning-looking Seven of Nine. He didn't notice. What he did notice was the Bajoran embassy -the ambassador, the Kai's personal representative, and the current commander of Deep Space Nine and her escort, a Starfleet doctor. He knew all three of the Bajorans. The Starfleet doctor, familiar but unknown, would need to be distracted.

"Seven, you see that man beside that red-haired Bajoran woman?"

"Excuse me, Harry," she said, and turned immediately from her conversation with Harry. "Yes."

"I need him to move away from her. Out of hearing range."

She gazed at him with icy blue eyes. "You wish me to remove the doctor so that you may speak with the Bajoran commander in private?"

The DS9 commander was elegant fire in red and gold. She shimmered with Spican glow gems and iridescent crystals. Seven had already noticed most of the men's eyes had strayed in that direction.

"Very well, Chakotay," she said with dignity. She politely excused herself from Harry, and found the holodoc standing a few feet away. "Doctor, I believe you wanted to meet Dr. Julian Bashir, one of the EMH mark two models. He is here, let us go to meet him."

Her tactic worked. Julian was stunned by her approach, much less the opportunity to discuss some obscure medical practice with Voyager's famous EMH.

Colonel Kira Nerys smiled with wry good humor as her escort was swirled away from her. Smiling over her drink, she felt a hand touch her arm gently. "Care to meet an old friend?"

Without blinking, she raised her glass to her lips, blocking the view of them from anyone who might be looking. "Call the compound tomorrow. Ask for Topar." She sipped her drink and stepped away.

Chakotay looked very satisfied.

Kathryn watched her crew at this sort of social occasion with a mixture of complete pride and maternal alertness. The vast majority of her crewmates had never attended a social gathering of such quality - no one had ever even suggested a formal ball be a social event in the holodeck. Sandrine's was much more their style and she fretted that they wouldn't enjoy their evening. But even Mortimer Harron seemed to have developed some social grace- dare she say panache - and she found herself just taking pleasure that her shipmates were enjoying themselves.

As always, she found her eyes straying toward her senior officers. B'Elanna was still stewing about something; Tom was containing her with dances and a number of astute interventions, blocking various Federation officials from coming too close. Harry and Asil, Tuvok's daughter, were having some intense conversation that included some uncharacteristic arm waving by the Ops officer. Seven and the Doctor were having some conversation with a Starfleet officer... but Seven did not look like she was enjoying the conversation.

Kathryn admired the dress Seven was wearing. Slightly less body hugging than her usual fare, Seven was draped in an exotic turquoise that flowed from a band that hardly crossed her bare shoulders. She was quite sure that the Doctor had helped her select this garment, too.

Slipping across the room, Kathryn smiled up at her young friend. "Seven?"

"Yes, Captain?"

Kathryn Janeway examined her face briefly. "Excuse us, gentlemen. I have someone I would like to introduce to Seven."

Taking Seven's arm, she steered them away from the doctors, who took a short-lived moment to watch the women walk away before resuming their conversation. Kathryn hoped that no one with a weak stomach was nearby.

"To whom do you wish to introduce me, Captain?"

Kathryn smiled guiltily. "Seven, I was concerned you weren't enjoying yourself, so I've simply extracted you from their conversation. What were they discussing, anyway?"

"Klingon birthing stories."

"Never mind. Have you met Ambassador Lwaxanna Troi from Betazed yet? She's standing over there with my mother. She told me she wanted to meet you tonight."

"I have not." She looked around the room, and saw that Chakotay was enjoying himself at the bar with several other Starfleet officers. Seven didn't understand.

By the end of the evening, Seven was convinced of several things about the Federation that she had feared were limited to the friends she had made on Voyager. But these people were truly interested in many of the things that caught Seven's attention, and were eager to help her understand the Alpha Quadrant and the Federation in particular. In the end, she was so distracted from her misery that she found herself looking up at Chakotay with warm eyes and pleasant smile as he took her arm for them to leave.

But as she watched him, she caught him scanning the room once more, and saw his eyes stop momentarily, then move on. She knew who caught his attention, and she was afraid she knew why.

Kathryn Janeway and Kira Nerys stood together, fire and ice. Kathryn's clean white gown, a concession to the white formal uniform, was demure and modest, her Golden Double Star Cluster with Diamonds rested on her shoulder, her only adornment. It did not appear that they were doing anything more than the light chatter required at such functions, but Chakotay knew better. This was one conversation he would rather they did not have.

The transporter took them back to the Visiting Officers' Quarters where Chakotay was staying. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her into an embrace. "Want to come in for a cup of coffee? Stay a while?" he whispered as he kissed her.

"No." She replied without hesitation. "I," she paused, "I must regenerate back on Voyager."

His head came up quickly. "I'll walk you back to the transporter."

"That's not necessary," she demurred, but he escorted her back to the station and watched as the technician handled his controls. Not a minute after Seven's departure, a sleepy Miral was beamed in, clutching a blanket with one hand and her father's dress coat with her other.

B'Elanna looked at Chakotay with surprise as he extended a hand to help her step down from the platform. Tom's bleary eyes told their own story.

"Well?" she asked quietly, a concession to her daughter.

"I've arranged a contact tomorrow. We'll know then if the Bajorans can help us." He paused a moment. "I have an idea, but I'll need a Klingon ship."

The mountains of Guatemala were steamy. Seven's Borg implants were more comfortable in heat than cold, and her reinforced body strength allowed her to compensate for the lower air pressure, but all in all, Seven was rather uncomfortable.

Some of it, to be sure, was irritation with her companion, who seemed to be more interested in the eastern side of the mountain than in her. Some of it was adjusting to the climate. But most of it was simply an internal discomfort that whatever she was doing, it wasn't what she wanted to do.

Chakotay stopped in a small clearing, and pressed several buttons on his PADD. She could see what he was doing, but she couldn't bring up enough interest to ask why. She simply stood beside him in silence.

Seven had received new orders from Starfleet that morning before they beamed out of San Francisco. Technically, she was not a member of Starfleet. She was a civilian consultant, but an extremely desirable one - the problems at McKinley Station were exactly the type of problem she enjoyed solving the most. Several key systems were malfunctioning in a manner that she had dealt with on Voyager - gel pack degradation and bad engineering - and now she, and the remaining Starfleet Voyager crew, were asked to come and attempt the repairs. Preliminary reports indicated that the repairs would likely take several months.

"Once you said to me that you wanted to be within beaming range of me, wherever we ended up in the Alpha Quadrant." She said it quietly, perhaps more to herself than to him.

Chakotay raised his face from the PADD. "I meant it."

"I have been offered a chance to work on McKinley Station for the next six months."

"I know." He sat down, pulling her down with him.

She thought that she should have known.

"I was told last night about the problems by Admiral Paris. I suggested that the Voyager engineering team might be consulted, since we had dealt with similar problems in the Delta Quadrant."

"It is a position that I am very desirous of taking. It is a very appealing challenge."

"I thought you would like it."

She thought he was hiding something. "So you think I should take the job?"

He stowed the PADD in a backpack he had dropped on the ground. "Of course. It's ideal for you."

"But not in beaming range of Earth."

"No, but surely within shuttle range." He agreed with her while he pulled a bag of oranges and apples from his pack.

Seven did not care for either fruit. She did not like apples at all. "You will not be coming to McKinley Station?"

"No. Our debriefings are about to be delayed. Admiral DePaul is going back to Alpha Centauri IV for a month. His son is dying."

She was very quiet. "Why does that delay the debriefing?"

"DePaul is the primary officer of the debrief. If he wants a month recess, he gets it." Chakotay shrugged his shoulders. "It gives me a month to go home, too."

"Home?" He offered her a choice, and with reluctance, she took the orange.

"I need to go back to Trebus. I have some legal work that needs to be done, and I must go."

"Will you be seeing Colonel Kira as well?"

His eyes hardened as he looked at her, but suddenly, his face turned concerned. "I hurt you last night, didn't I?"

She placed the uneaten orange on the ground. "Why did you wish to speak with her?"

He pulled his ear, and rubbed his face, avoid her eyes. "Seven, it wasn't what you think."

"You don't know what I think."

Yes, I do, he thought. You're jealous and you don't even realize it.

I think you're going to do something about the Maquis in Cardassian prison camps, she thought. And I'm afraid of what will happen.

"Tell me." His dark eyes were compelling. "What do you think?"

She took offense at his tone, feeling it was condescending. "Did you speak with her?"

"Only in passing. What I needed was to talk with the Ambassador. If a Starfleet officer had seen me, talking to a known Bajoran terrorist, it would have been suspicious. Colonel Kira was an intermediary." It was almost true.

"Chakotay," she began, and looked at him with troubled eyes. "Why did you need to talk to the ambassador?"

He sighed and took a big bite of apple, chewing and swallowing before he answered. "I have some legal problems with Trebus. Since Trebus revoked its position as a Federation Colony, it technically does not fall under Federation law and territory. The legal questions are concerning Cardassian actions on Trebus. If I can find out what the Federation's response was to Bajor's Cardassian problems, I should be able to figure out what I can and can't expect for my problems with Trebus."

"What problems do you have?"

"My family owned property that was destroyed by Cardassians, before the war. I think that I have some recourse under the Non-Allied Planetary Pact that Cardassia and the Federation signed. I want to find out what options I have, and the probability of some restitution. Then there is a meeting of the Treban survivors scheduled for the end of next month that I must attend. I was going to have to ask DePaul for a break anyway." He looked at her sadly. "I had hoped you would take the position on McKinley to keep you occupied while I was gone."

"Perhaps it would be better for me to go with you."

He smiled at her brightly. "Would you like to?"

Would she like to go to a firebombed planet with slag six feet deep? An entire hemisphere without plant or animal life? A fourteen day trip with sixteen other survivors and assorted Starfleet and Federation scientists who needed to make decisions that would permanently determine Trebus' future? Or stay at McKinley Station, experimenting with some gel pack technology that she had only begun to consider that morning as a method of...she shook her head. "I think it would be better for me to stay here."

He looked at her wisely, and nodded. "I thought so too. But thank you for thinking of it."

Had he asked her to go, had he said the words "Will you come with me?" she would have gone. But he only asked if she would like to go, and for some very deep, very intense reason, she would not bring herself to say yes.

He tossed his apple core away and picked up another. "Don't like your orange?"

"No," she replied carelessly, her thoughts evidently far from his question.

He was lying to her. Her ocular implant noticed several signs, despite his calm face and straightforward look.

Seven and Chakotay had never been intimate. Now they never would. She stood and looked around. "Where are we?"

He pointed down the mountainside to a neat plateau several kilometers away. "That's the village we just visited, it's my mother's village. She lived here until she married my father. That," and here he waved his arm expansively, pointing to a woodsy site between the village and their present location, "is the coffee grove." Nodding, she encouraged him to continue. "She told me about this mountain...I thought I would like to come and see it again."

"You have been here before?"

"Many times while I was in Starfleet. What little family I have left is down there."

Family. Her own aunt's face crossed her mind, but when she ever thought of her family, she thought of Voyager. "What do you think of, when you think of family?"

He lay back in the grass, chewing his thoughts as he chewed his apple. "I guess my parents, my grandparents. Children..." he looked at her as he said that. "I would like to have children someday."

"On Trebus?"

"Probably. When I leave Starfleet, my Federation citizenship will be withdrawn. Trebus, if I can get what I need to start over, will be a good home for a family."

He wasn't lying to her now. He sincerely believed in this plan.

"Leave Starfleet?" His words stunned her. Leave Starfleet? She had not even considered such a thing.

"Soon. When the debriefing is done, I'll make my plans then. We've got a good six or seven months to go, even if DePaul doesn't call another recess. Have an apple." He tossed one to her.

She allowed it to pass uncaught. Leave the Federation?

He sat up and took her hands in his, bringing her back to the ground. "Seven, you have to understand this. I have no more loyalty to the Federation than you do to the Collective. The Federation and its actions destroyed my family, my home, and possibly my future. I have no intention of remaining in Starfleet any longer than I need to. I'm making my plans now. Another year at most, and I'm going to be out. We really haven't talked much about what you want in your future, Seven. Now that you've spent some time in the Alpha Quadrant, are you any clearer on what you want to do?"

She thought it was a highly personal question asked in a highly impersonal way.

He thought he was asking her for her dreams, for herself. He did not include himself in them - he wasn't sure that she wanted him to be there. She looked at the apple lying a few feet from her knee. There was no temptation to pick it up.

"I don't like apples," she said in a strange voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I would have packed what you like." He reached over and picked up the fruit. "What do you like to eat, Seven?"

She started to answer, but stopped at a sudden thought. "Why don't you know what I like?"

"I guess because we've eaten together so infrequently. Until last year, I don't think I ever saw you eat."

"I did not eat much until last year," she said. "The Doctor and Neelix worked to find foods that would be compatible and nourishing. My dietary supplements were adequate, but they believed it would further my humanity if I began to eat with the crew." She smiled wistfully. "My dietary supplements were deemed to be too disgusting for consumption in public."

Chakotay laughed. "I can hear Neelix saying it. 'Seven, the other people at the table will lose their appetite for my leola root surprise if they have to watch you drink that grey sludge.'"

"The Doctor was less polite. He told me that I needed to eat decent food with appropriate manners. His lessons were very useful."

"I was watching you last night at the reception. Your manners were perfect." He squeezed the hand he still held. "You looked lovely last night."

"I did not think you noticed."

"Every eye in the place was on you, Seven. I couldn't have missed you." He kissed her hand. "I wish you didn't have to go back to Voyager every night."

She allowed him her hand. It was all she would ever allow him again, until he told her the truth. "I need to get back soon, if I'm to leave for McKinley Station in the morning."

Surprised, he released the hand he had been gently pulling toward him.

"What have I been doing?" he repeated. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you've been followed by a Cardassian agent ever since you left Qo'NoS last month."

"I know." He answered shortly. It hadn't bothered him, until the agent had disappeared.

"You know. I'm glad you know, since we were barely able to stop him from knifing you at the Paris spaceport last week."

He looked surprised. "Paris spaceport? I don't remember anything. He was simply following me."

"He pulled a knife when you were entering the checkpoint. Only a Starfleet security officer was between the two of you. The officer was able to force him to drop the weapon, and distract him from following you here."

Chakotay rubbed his face, pulling on his ear. "I haven't seen him since then."

"No, and you won't. He's being detained for breaking the peace-bond in the Spaceport. His ambassador has filed a grievance, and with the speed of protocol, he'll be released tomorrow, returning to Cardassian Prime courtesy of the USS Stingray."

Chakotay looked up the mountain. "You say I'm safe here?"

"I think so. Officer Prillwitz, the one you kept an eye on in the marketplace, had orders to immediately delete any record of our transport after we left."

She pulled off the shorthaired wig, and combed back her hair with her fingers. "That's too hot to keep on any longer. Are you ready to move up the mountain?"

He looked at the familiar hair, now cascading down her back in rivers of tangled curls. "Why?"

She looked at him with blank eyes. "To find the family treasure, of course."

The little boy pointed to the woman sitting on a deck in front of a store.

She sat in the shadows, but her hands moved in the bright sunlight in some sort of rhythmic pattern. Another woman, grey and hefty, sat beside her, nursing some steaming cup. "You sure?" he asked.

"She's the best, senor. Honest." The boy emphasized his point by nodding vigorously.

She looked up at the young man who stood in her light. He looked down at her hands, entwined with roughly spun fibrous thread. "The young man over there said that you would be able to guide me up into that mountain." He roughly indicated it with a push of his head.

She looked back at her hand weaving. "I could."

She wasn't what he expected to find as a guide. She was older than he, at least a decade, maybe more. Her brown eyes were sharp, but she didn't have the muscle he thought a mountain guide ought to have. He ought to have more money; he wished he'd had more money. The trip to Guatemala had taken every last coin he'd earned in the last 10 years. He wasn't sure that his grandmother hadn't slipped a few into his bank herself. But in the end, what he had was enough to get him to Earth, and his passage home, but not enough to support himself while he was here.

The little boy with shining eyes who had directed him to her, saying she was the best guide in town, sidled up behind him, shyly looking at the woman. "You see, Margarita, I sent him to you."

She kissed her fingers and wiggled them at the little boy. He blushed and ran back into the marketplace, stopping behind the tall fountain to turn and look back at her. "He seems rather fond of you."

She nodded briefly, a teasing smile warming her face. "Tomas wants to marry me."

"Is that why he offers your services as a guide?"

"I doubt it. Tomas wants to go up the mountain too. He thinks if I take someone else up, he can tag along."

The stranger returned her smile. "Will he?"

Her smile weakened. "No, there's no place for a boy on our expedition."

His faded as well. "Then you can't guide me?"

Shaking her head, she looked down at her hand weaving. "I can't. I have to go to the coffee groves today. I'll be gone for about 10 days. If you can stay, I'll take you up then."

He thought about his depleted purse, and sat down beside her. "To be honest, I don't have the money to stay and wait. Do you have another recommendation for a guide?"

Curious, she thought. Everything about him screamed off-worlder, but he looked human. "You need a place to stay? Eat?"

"Stay, eat, pay for my guide..." his voice trailed off as a boisterous group approached.

"Any experience working on a farm?"

Extending his hands as a reference, she saw that they were calloused and toughened. "Good enough. El Patron will be here shortly. Let's get you hired for my crew. You'll be fed, if not housed, for the next ten days. How old are you?"

The stranger looked rather puzzled at the question. His compact build was muscular, not lean, and his face, dark and a bit weathered, usually accorded him the respect of an adult. "Twenty," he admitted.

"Good. I needed someone a bit older to assist me with that mob," she waved at the crowd that remained a short distance away. She stood and dropped the hand weaving into a small bag, grabbing it with a deft grace, and turned him toward the other young men and women.

There were fourteen of them, all dressed in a variety of well-worn colorful clothing. Most wore some shading headgear; the rest had long scarves that would serve to protect their heads as well.

The man self-consciously felt his black hair, pulled back with a band across his forehead. An older man, greying and well dressed, joined the group. Everyone fell silent as he stood there, giving him some deep respectful looks.

"Margarita, it appears you found your last team member."

"If he's acceptable to you, El Patron."

El Patron pulled the man aside, and began to quiz him as Margarita turned to the rest of her crew.

"I'm Margarita Cortez, the agronomist for this trip. We'll be heading up the mountain in about one hour. Please be sure that you have everything on your trip list. You forget it, you do without it. You forget my equipment, you forget your pay."

They all laughed at that. The importance of this trip had been drilled into them for the last week, not only by El Patron but also by the majority of their families and friends. Their future depended on it.

Her spiel was short - get your packs, get the equipment, get back here in one hour. They scattered, chattering still, as she dismissed them.

El Patron turned away from the man, who held the list of requirements in his hand and his pack in the other. "I don't have some of these things, Senor."

"Not to worry. Margarita will take you to the market. Charge what you need to me. Do a good job and find out what's wrong with the grove."

It was a generous offer. The sleeping bag alone would set him back every penny that he still had in his pocket. The other supplies, mostly clothing for chilly nights, headgear and heavy duty boots, were in his pack. If the bag were a gift on top of the salary and bonus promised, he would have a profitable trip back home.

Margarita looked at his pack. "What do you need?"

"Sleeping bag...probably some heavier socks."

"You'll need some gloves, too." She scanned his list. "If you're going to be any help, I suggest you also get some writing materials and a supply of pens. Come on, I'll take you over to Chelipto. She'll have everything you need."

Chelipto's was the small store where he first found her, well stocked with mountain equipment and hiking supplies. He wondered at the oddity of finding such an outfitter in such a little town, but Chelipto, the other woman from the porch, laughed heartily. "We're on the Pan-American Trail. I'll get as many as ten hikers on a good day coming through here for supplies."

He barely heard her. Across the room, examining some differing weights of ropes was a beautiful young woman. Her long black braids fell down her back nearly as thick as his wrist, her trim figure and muscular arms showing her strength, and her smiling face had a hint of mischief in it as she held out her sample to the man who stood beyond her.

Chelipto and Margarita exchanged knowing glances.

"That's Kanicha. She's on our team." He tore his eyes away and looked at Margarita as she spoke. "I'll introduce you." She stopped suddenly. "I don't know your name."

"Kolopak," he said.

The crew sorted itself into a loose-strung strand on the trail. Most of them were local residents of the village that rested on a lower plateau beneath the large one where the coffee groves were situated. Kanicha and the rest of the girls had taken point, but it didn't seem to be a difficult or dangerous trail up to the coffee plantation. From everything that Kolopak could see, the trail was extraordinarily clear and smooth, wide and pleasantly shaded.

Margarita had a small pack on her back, her bedroll tied on the very top. She would try to roll her head backwards, and knock it against the bag.

"At least it's soft," he said to her the third time she did it.

"I'm not used to backpacking anymore."

He nodded sympathetically. "How much farther?"

From behind them, a male voice spoke. "Another three kilometers."

Kolopak turned and looked. The young man looked twenty, but something about his voice made him wonder if he wasn't older.

"I'm Hector Diaz." He extended his hand.

"Kolopak." Kolopak extended his hand and they shook. "Have I met you before?"

Margarita laughed. "No, but you know his father." His confused face made her laugh more. "El Patron, the owner of this coffee grove, the one who just hired you? That's Marcos Diaz, Hector's father."

"Just what have I been hired to do?"

Margarita and Hector began to speak at the same time, and then deferred to each other. Finally, between laughs, Kolopak learned the story.

In the last two years, the coffee trees at the southern end of the grove were producing fewer cherries, and most of the ones harvested were beanless. The trees were failing, and the overstory trees were almost leafless. The reduction in the harvest was enough for him to get an agronomist to investigate.

"Agronomist?" Kolopak stumbled over the word. "What's that?"

"A scientist who specializes in farming and agriculture." Hector answered as he scanned the crew walking ahead of them.

"Who is that?" wondered Kolopak aloud.

"I am," Margarita answered.

"But I thought you were a mountain guide?"

"I'm both, to some degree. I grew up here. I left for schooling, and then my career has taken me all over world. El Patron thought I would like the sleuthing job and hired me to come back."

"What do you think has caused the problem?"

She sighed. "So far, I haven't much to go on. We're going up to the grove itself for some research, and I suspect that we'll be moving upland onto the mountain for some more."

"What will the team do?"

"They will be gathering data from several locations every day. I'm trying to rule out several options before we decide to tackle the mountain. I think that ten days should give me enough data to analyze."

"What are we looking for?"

"Several things. Animal and insect life inside and outside the grove. Water purity. Viral and bacterial infections of the less productive trees, but I'm more inclined for it being a pollution insert than a infection."

"Why?"

She smiled at him, obviously pleased at his curiosity. "You're the only one who's asked that, Kolopak."

Nodding, he waited for her to continue.

"A bacterial agent or a viral infection wouldn't be limited to one side of a tree. We've got four newly compromised trees this spring, but only on one side. Insects might cause that problem, but it's pretty uncommon in an understory. There's also a significant die-off of several species of birds, which could indicate either a polluted water source or a decrease in the number of food chain feeding insects. If there's a significant decrease in the insect populations, we need to find out what's causing it."

"What causes bugs to die?"

"Usually pollution, but we've uncovered some odd viral infections in an insect population generally caused by parasitic species. If Kanicha and her teammate find any evidence, we'll call in a specialist to handle it."

"What would cause this type of pollution?"

"It's anybody's guess right now. The water in town is clean and clear, but the water that comes down the mountain into the grove has a different source on the far side of Uno Anpotol."

"Uno Anpotol?"

Hector waved ahead of them. "That's Uno Anpotol. There's Dos Anpotol. The two of them form the plateaus and protect them from the worst of the hurricanes from the east and El Nino from the north."

Kolopak accepted this information with a frown as he gazed up at the clouds that covered the mountaintops. "So, the water supply may be polluted." His eyebrows furrowed. "Natural causes?"

She shrugged. "It's happened. Erosion from the rains may have exposed some agent from the volcanic debris that would do this. It's happened in other places, but it's extremely uncommon. We only have a dozen or so cases historically that we can accurately attribute to volcanic poisoning of the water supply - but that's always a mineral contamination and rarely effects plant life as extensively as this has. If the human population was consuming this water, I would probably just stay in town, see about getting some serious filtration or alternative water source for the duration. Since we're talking about a coffee grove with seven different water stream sources, that means there's a serious ground water problem caused by one or more of the streams. Filtration can't answer the problem, we'll have to find the source of the pollution and find a way to neutralize there."

"When my father drills a dirty well, it's almost impossible to clean the source. The family must rely on some filtration method. A dirty well almost always means a dead farm," said Kolopak.

"Your father digs wells?"

"Digs wells, analyzes water, does some irrigation work. He likes to work with water."

"Did you work with him?"

Kolopak was sure his distaste was apparent. "Far too often."

Hector laughed. "What would you rather be doing?"

Kolopak shrugged. "Anything else. I enjoy working with animals far more than digging dirt."

Margarita was thoughtfully quiet, and rolled her neck back once again.

The campsite was the middle of the coffee grove, and while it needed some immediate removal of fallen branches, it seemed that everyone was able to pitch their tents and get a meal going fairly quickly. Kolopak and Hector were assigned to share a tent that also held some of the food stock. A large red tent was set up, and filled with equipment that had been backpacked up. Several small analyzing stations were set up, and a vast amount of small screens with a variety of buttons were stacked up beside each one. They were numbered, and each was assigned to a particular team member. Kolopak awkwardly juggled his three until Hector showed him the locking mechanism that allowed the tablets to be stacked and stay together.

"Why red?" Hector asked Margarita as they lashed some branches together for a makeshift table.

"Easy to see when we're up the mountain. We'll be able to aim our spit." Kolopak replied humorously as he wrestled some cables into submission.

Kanicha laughed at his comment, and added a ribald comment about the men aiming something else. Kolopak was dumbfounded, but looking at her face, he was delighted to see dimples with her smile.

Dimples, he thought. Dimples were places where the stars kissed your face, his grandmother always said. His grandfather would snort and say it was nonsense; it was obvious that the turtle god had come and taken a bite, and finding it unsatisfactory, refused to eat more. The three, grandparents and little child, would laugh.

The first three days were exhausting, but fun. Kolopak worked with several other team members on a rotating basis as the samples were taken.

Kolopak's assignment amused him; he was testing water from three streams and the ground water in four other locations. That each of these sites was kilometers apart didn't bother him too much. He was done with the field work before the warmest part of the day, and since most of the others didn't roll out of their sleeping bags until far later than he did, he had the red tent to himself for the analysis.

Their evenings were spent without a great deal of variety. Rotation of the cooking duties made dinner a constant guessing game. Kolopak was grateful to find he was partnered with four other people who understood cooking better than he did, and found that serving, while your own food got cold, was more fun than trying to pare a thick-skinned tuber. Everyone helped with the clean up, and their evenings were then free to spend as they wished.

Or rather, it was up to Kolopak and Margarita to make sure that nothing happened as everyone wished.

Tomas Redos, for example, had been watching Lily Hernandez for three days, and Kolopak knew the signs. The two of them had better be well watched in the cool of the evening. Margarita had also caught a little budding romance between Chiquotoal and Oxtocotaz, and while she knew that their parents would be glad to see them marry, right now, she really preferred their attention be on their jobs, not on each other.

The evenings became more structured by accident. Kolopak was sitting, looking up at a break in the canopy, catching infrequent stars as the clouds rolled by. "It reminds me of an ancient legend," he said to Kanicha nearby.

"Oh," she asked politely, her attention clearly focused on her PADD.

"Yes," he said slowly, "the story of Alcade the rabbit and his fear of thunderstorms."

One eyebrow rose in response, and he took it as encouragement. "Alcade was lonely in his house, it was dark and no one would visit him..."

By the time he finished his story about the rabbit, most of the team had gathered around them, but Kolopak smiled only at Kanicha.

"I have not heard that Alcade was afraid of something so tame as a thunderstorm," she replied slowly. "Instead, I had heard the Alcade liked to make music during the storms, and it kept his friends awake all night..."

And the nightly campfire became less of a romantic setting, as the two storytellers found themselves surrounded by an audience who were not hesitant to laugh or applaud, or even to became the focus for singing and telling jokes. But as the week progressed, the nightly campfire ended earlier and earlier, and a few exhausted crewmembers barely made it through their dinners.

It was Hector who provided a solution. "Several of the crew want to change jobs, Margarita. It would be good for those who have long routes to try the shorter ones for a few days rest." No respite had been included in the ten-day schedule.

Kolopak had to agree. He had the longest route of anyone, but it was no hardship for him. The early mornings alone were precious in the grey filtered light as it passed through the canopy. Listening to wild birds gave him some sense of home.

So Kolopak found himself supervising several teams, as his route was always done very early. He hoped that he would be given the chance to try the trails that led from the plateau to the mountain face he wished to find, but the rain, something Margarita had earnestly hoped for, finally came.

Several hundred rain samples were collected within a few hours, and Margarita and Kanicha took to the science tent for some massive testing. The spider bite went unnoticed for hours in Margarita's disciplined attention.

Hector noticed her flushed face when she took a quick break mid afternoon. It didn't take much to find the bite on her forearm; it was swelling and painful to the touch. The dead spider was still on the table, squashed very flat, but its markings were very clear.

"Kolopak," he called from the doorway of her tent.

"What is it?"

"Margarita. She's been bit by a queri spider."

"Spider? What's a spider?"

"Little insect with eight legs..." Hector looked at him peculiarly. "Where are you from, that you don't have spiders?"

"Trebus." Kolopak answered shortly. "What does this mean? Bit by a spider?"

"It means she's gonna get sick."

Kolopak stood outside the tent, watching the rain splash down. "How sick? Dying?"

"No," Margarita replied wearily. "Just sick enough to want to die."

He chewed his lower lip to keep from smiling, not that she would see him through the tent flap. "So, do I go get Delores?"

Delores was the oldest of the girls on the trek, but she was also the most gossipy and Kolopak avoided her like the plague.

"No!" Margarita replied hastily.

"Get in here, Kolopak," Hector called.

The inside of her private tent was ordered neatly, if not crammed full. Boxes of supplies for the scientific experiments surrounded her walls, and even under her low camp bed he saw more containers. She was lying on her bed, a small bucket beside her on the floor, and her arm wrapped in a white cloth.

"Spider bite?" He asked.

"A small insect-like creature. Bites and injects a venom. This will last about 36 hours." Hector's voice recited the facts, but Kolopak looked at him, learning more than about spider. Hector looked with a great deal of love at the woman beside him.

"What do you need of me?"

"First, we need to keep this quiet. Most of the team, most of us in this region, know what a queri spider bite is like." Hector said as he played with the tent zipper.

"Then why should they not know about Margarita?" asked Kolopak.

"Because most of them are itching for an opportunity to get a little wild. If she's not there to supervise, I think we'll have some problems tonight. Not to mention the panic about the queri spiders. No one expected them to have hatched yet. We haven't had the immunization shots yet."

Kolopak frowned. "I've been hearing rumors about spiking the drinking water with an alcoholic brew."

"Exactly. We're primed for major problems."

"Even with the rain?"

Margarita was beginning to pale as she spoke. "It's going to break quickly, and probably even get pleasantly warm tonight. It's going to be a breakout night if we don't intervene."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Tell stories tonight. Have a competition. Get their attention off each other and onto something else."

Kolopak nodded, but didn't have much idea what he could do. "I'm not very familiar with the customs of your people. What would keep them occupied?"

"Your stories. Kanicha's stories. Get Delores to tell her story about the deer and the wolf."

"Is that all? Just keep them busy till bedtime?" Kolopak looked relieved at the simplicity of his role.

Hector looked strained. "It will be enough."

But in the end, Hector turned out to be a very bad nurse. After the first throes of the venom-inducing vomiting, Hector found himself outside her tent, looking a little green himself. Kolopak had brought some water and a few beans for her to try when he found the younger man. "Let me do this, Hector. You supervise the mealtime, and see if you can get a sports event arranged. Let's wear them out that way."

Hector nodded quickly. "Races, some targeting..." He handed the full bucket to the off-worlder he now was considering a friend, and strode off toward the gathering dinner crowd.

Stepping into the bush, Kolopak emptied the bucket and found a few loose leaves to wipe it out. Nursing duty had never bothered him, not for animals, not for men. But for a woman, a woman should be the nurse. Kolopak wasn't a particularly modest man, but on Trebus, there were certain lines that were never crossed. One was caring for an ill person was the responsibility of a family member or another person of the same sex. But there was no one who might undertake the responsibility.

He squared his shoulders and walked into the tent. Margarita was lying on her stomach, her back bared to the room, one bandaged arm over her head. He could see the beads of sweat rising from her skin, and quickly he picked up a cool cloth to wipe it off.

"Oh, Grandmother, if you could see this, I would be in big trouble right now," he whispered.

"Why is that, Kolopak?" she asked groggily.

"It's not right that I should be your nurse."

"No, you should be distracting fourteen teenagers from their hormones."

"Hector is arranging some games. I'll put in an appearance and tell some stories after dinner."

"Don't mention food."

"I won't mention it. Should I get someone else to come in? Hector doesn't seem to be up to it."

She laughed at the understatement. "No, I'll be fine by myself. After I get my stomach emptied, the shakes will start. I can be by myself."

He was appalled. Alone? Sick and alone? "What day is it?" he asked her.

"It's Wednesday, Kolopak. Why?" At least she was aware of what was going on around her.

"What do you want done tomorrow? Anything different from the usual runs?"

He began to wash off her shoulders. "That feels good." She whispered. "I'm so hot."

"What is it about the spiders that makes Hector so nervous?"

"Queri spiders are nasty. Their bite makes you sick for 2 days, really sick. We give anti-venom inoculations every year to people who work in the groves."

"You didn't do that for this trip?"

"It's far too early for queri spiders to be hatching. We've had sixteen consecutive days of warm weather. They've hatched early. And the birds that normally migrate here for the South American winter won't arrive for at least another month. If that's the problem. It may be that the birds aren't coming because the water is polluted."

Kolopak considered this quietly, continuing to wipe her back and neck with the cooling cloth. When she dropped off into a light sleep, he made his way back to the campground, signaling Hector to join him in the roped off latrine area.

"Call your father. Tell him to get the anti-venom inoculations up here now, or get these kids out of here."

"How?"

"I don 't know. But either we protect them or we get them out."

"The only way for them to leave is to walk back down the mountain."

"Then get a doctor up here."

Hector looked troubled. "I'll call my father. Is this what Margarita wants to do?"

"Margarita is too sick to figure out what to do."

Hector's face began to look mulish. "Look, we can't do anything without Margarita's permission."

"Call him and tell him what's going on."

"It's wrong. It's going over her head."

The two men walked away from each other.

After the dinner was cleaned up, the researchers sat around the fire and watched Hector line up teams for a series of races and games. It was different from their previous nights' entertainment, they chattered, they ran, they got an extra ration of some sweet that Kolopak found cloying and unpleasant, but every one was eaten in a matter of minutes.

Kolopak looked around as the races were run by the crew. These were young adults. Not one of them was here by coercion, but he fretted about a rash of the same illnesses that had struck Margarita. To hide from them the true cause would be to perhaps allow another to be bit unawares. To let them know might cause a panic in the twilight hours that could be even more dangerous if they tried to head home down the trail in the dark. Surely there was some way to warn them to be careful of what they already knew to be a danger.

Kanicha joined him by the fire, poking the wet logs a little to make them flame a little more, mostly a futile effort. "Stories tonight?"

"I'm thinking. Surely I know a few more?" He smiled wanly at her, and was rewarded with her bright grin.

"Of course you do."

"Do you know any about a spider? I think I remember a story my grandfather told me about a spider, but I'm having a hard time remembering the details."

She squinted at the fire, but did not answer him right away. "I remember a story about Alcade using a spider to trick Skunk into staying in one spot."

"I don't know that one. Tell me."

And as the team gathered around, Kanicha told the baby story that each of them had heard since they were very small. How Alcade used a spider web to trap Skunk, so his smell would not ruin his dinner party. The variations from each family were added in, to much laughter and merriment. One young man, Alejandro, told a story about his mother finding a queri spider in her salad and how she threw it across the room.

"Queri spider? What is that?" Kolopak asked.

Several voices shouted to answer him - a little blue grey spider that lived in the coffee groves in the warm spring and summer days. Its bite was nasty, the following sickness worse.

"Where would I look to find them?" He asked.

"Bold fellows," Hector offered. "They'll walk right across your face. They don't hide in shoes or bedrolls."

"No, they spin their webs and drop down to visit whenever they want!"

Kanicha laughed and told the story her mother had told her about a distant relative's attempts to shoo the spider outside.

Hector and Kolopak exchanged glances. The awareness of the spiders would be enough, for now.

Margarita awoke a few hours later, feeling dry and sore. The sounds of the camp were quiet, not even the whispering and giggling in the tents came through her walls. Kolopak was leaning against a stack of boxes, reading her notes, comparing them with a computer printout.

"Water?" she whispered.

"Here," he offered her a small sip of a pale green beverage.

She sipped and nearly coughed it back up. "What is that?"

"An herb from my home. It's good for stomach distress."

She wrinkled her nose at it. "It's nasty."

He coaxed her to take another sip. "It will relax you and help your stomach to heal."

"Water?" she asked again, and this time, he provided her with a cup. She took a mouthful and held in there for a moment before swallowing. "What was it?"

"An herb. We call it chaya."

Margarita laughed weakly and lay back against her pillow. "What are you reading?"

"Lab reports. Those computers, what do you call them?"

"Tricorders."

"Are they Starfleet issue?"

Her face took on a wry look. "They're old Starfleet models. My cousin Chakotay is in procurement for Starfleet Command. He's a captain."

Kolopak tilted his head. "So you get these for free?"

"Not only do I get these for free, they even pay me to take them off their hands."

"I don't understand."

"Most of the data on a tricorder is sensitive, secret. I agree to take one hundred or so of them and wipe the memory or destroy them so that they can't be used. They pay me to do that.

"Seems wasteful."

"It does. I work hard to salvage most of them, and then we pass them out to other agronomists. I only charge my labor and the cost of the data downloads."

"Is agronomy such a poor field?"

"It can be. Most of us are required to provide our own equipment for a position outside an academy or university. Field workers need something as tough as a Starfleet tricorder, but we're unable to afford them, and when we can, there's some proprietary restrictions limiting them to only be sold to Starfleet. Federation security, or something equally bizarre."

"Hmmm." Kolopak laid the paper and tricorder down, and picked up the washcloth to wipe her face. "I asked Hector to call his father."

"Did he?"

"No, he felt is was disrespectful to you to do so."

She sighed heavily. "I appreciate his honor, but you're right. They should go home."

"I suggested that a doctor get up here and inoculate you all."

"It won't work. The meds are progressive. A shot now won't be really effective for another two weeks."

In the quiet of the camp, Kolopak returned to his studies. "We don't need them, anyway."

"No, we don't. I came to that same conclusion this afternoon. What's your reasoning?"

Kolopak shuffled a few papers around. "It's pretty clear that it's not a viral or bacterial infection of the trees. Too many different tree species. A single virus or bacterial strain is not going to wipe out 7 different kinds of trees, plus the ground cover. Insects are below predicted norms by more than seventy percent. Almost certainly a serious pollution problem, from one of two major streams on the southeast slope."

She looked at him with respect. "You've been reading for a while."

He shrugged slightly. "Not really. The data is pretty conclusive."

"You're not just a farmer, are you?"

"No," he drawled, but didn't elaborate.

"You're older than twenty, too."

"That's probably about right. My birth date according to star dates is more than 20 years. That's how old I am on Trebus. Our years are a little longer."

"So, in earth years?"

He punched a few numbers into the tricorder. "According to this, I'm 24.4 earth years old."

"I figured as much." She pulled the blanket up to her nose. "I'm cold."

Kolopak looked around the room. He knew that no heating units were installed in his tent, but maybe she had some Starfleet issue tucked away. "Would you like my sleeping bag?"

"No, thank you. You'll need it later."

"Not as much as you will." He pulled it out from under himself, and laid it on top of hers. "What sort of pollution are you looking for?"

"That's the dilemma, there's nothing very conclusive here. The trees and plants appear to be absorbing it from ground water, which probably means it's a leaching problem. I think, and that's all it is at this point, that we may be dealing with sabotage. A small amount of an inert chemical might be released into the stream, and it's absorbed into the ground water. Another inert chemical is later released. The two together might be forming a pesticide."

"Most pesticides are transported that way."

She was surprised. "They are?"

"Sure. Together, they're a pretty lethal combination, one that no one wants to see released on a space vessel or transport. So they break them down to component parts to be mixed with water, usually, since the mix is highly concentrated."

"So, what signs would you be looking for?"

He paused, looking off into a corner of the darkened tent. "If it were possible, I would be looking for a satellite confirmation of severe plant destruction or deforestation above here on the streams."

"It's hard to see with a satellite image. Either the plant destruction is too small to register or we move into the cloud forest, where the plant imagery is very poor."

"So how do we trace it?"

"We?" she asked slowly.

"We. I've been looking for a reason to go up that mountain. Here's my chance."

She considered his words carefully. "Tell Hector to call his father. I'm going to stay here for another two days, but the remainder of the team should go back to town."

"You're going up by yourself?"

"No, not hardly. I need a small team. Three more people, ideally. Kanicha, of course. She plays on these mountains like the girls in town play slapping sticks. She'll know the mountain streams and the best ways to access them. Hector should come along, I need a strong willing back, and he's very strong."

"He's also very willing."

"Granted." She gave him a wry look, wondering at him. "I'll need one more."

"Asking for volunteers?"

"Maybe I am. Why do you want to go up that mountain?"

Now that was a question that Kolopak didn't want to answer. If Kanicha had asked it, he might have tried to sound out her personal beliefs, but it seemed unlikely that Margarita would share his. He had never seen her express any religious belief, and he suspected she had little or none. As his reasons were entirely religious, he shied away from laying them before her.

But he did not want to lie to this woman. He had grown to respect her immensely, and did not want that regard to be tainted by untruths. "Let's just say I've got a hankering to see it. My motives are pure," she laughed as he placed his hand on his heart, "but private."

She allowed him to finish, contemplating him with half-closed eyes. "Very well. I need someone with some experience with animals. I'm going to have Marcos bring up my llamas. They'll pack the heaviest equipment and supplies. Once we get into the cloud forest, there won't be much backup from the town. I'll have to contact Chakotay, I'll need some other equipment, and I'll need someone with some skill in maintaining it, since it's likely to be either dated or broken. What can you do?"

Kolopak leaned against a stack of boxes with a grin. "I know about animals."

"Yes?"

"Back on Trebus, I worked with my father as his assistant on his drilling expeditions. But my current position and training isn't in engineering at all."

"Yes?"

Kolopak's eyes wandered around the tent for a moment, then settled back on Margarita. "I'm an animal midwife."

"You're a what?"

"I help large animals, farm animals mostly, give birth."

"That's a job on Trebus?"

"It's a job in my village. It's a necessary one in a new village that needs every birth to produce a live mother and child."

"Your village? It's a new village?"

"Less than five years old. We started breaking the land when I was 16. I've gotten all my veterinary tech classes completed; I just finished my fieldwork a week before I left for Earth. I'll be certified when I return."

"That's a job in a new village? That's all you do?"

"Well, no, that's not all. But I've got the animal skills you need to manage your pack animals. I've got the background in chemistry that you'll want to help you do the analysis."

She looked blankly at him. "Those reports you're reading...you're not just intuitively telling me what you think? You understand what you're reading?"

"Of course. Trebus may be in the far reaches of space, but we're not a bunch of ignorant spacers.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "You're full of surprises, Kolopak."

"This place is full of surprises for me, too. The life here is so different from what I expected. These people live lives that seem so poor, compared to what I expected. They are rich in many things, but I thought every house on Earth would have a transporter pad and you could do anything you want to."

"I don't imagine any place is like that."

He laughed. "It was a pretty silly thought, wasn't it?"

She watched his smile. She'd watched him a great deal on this trip - and had seen that there wasn't a lot of emotion expressed on that face in public. But here, with her now, he seemed more real, less stoic. Instead of a stiff face when asked a question he would rather not answer, or turning the question around, a tactic she had noticed he used with remarkable efficiency, he simply restated his desire and his wish to keep his reasons quiet. His tone was respectful, but somewhere in there was a sense of humility towards...what?

"You're an enigma, Kolopak. You're hired. When Hector gets up, tell him to radio his father. Marcos needs to know that the camp is breaking up in the morning, and I'm hoping they'll be on their way down the trail by noon. I'll contact Chakotay in San Francisco in the morning with a list of supplies. We'll take a two-day break here. It will take that long to get the llamas up here and get the supplies from Guatemala City."

He smiled widely at her, but she was unsure if the smile was due to her assessment of his character or giving him the job. Either way, she smiled back.

"Ok," she began, and shivered into her sleeping bag.

Kolopak offered another sip of his nasty brew, but she declined. What she really wanted was a cup of coffee, but at whatever hour of the night it was, it certainly wasn't time to make it. He lifted up a thermos and shook it. "Something hot then?"

She thought he might be reading her mind, and extended shaking hands. "What is it?"

"Something nasty, I'm sure."

She handed it back to him. "I can't open it."

He sighed as he opened the thermos spout and took a deep breath. "Very nasty." He said.

Ok, but it's warm, her stomach explained very slowly to her tongue, which consented reluctantly. The aromatic coffee smelled heavenly, and she thought that later, when she was feeling better, Kolopak was going to pay for that.

Despite the coffee, the shakes rocked her cot, and she tried to curl into a tight ball to keep some body warmth close by.

Kolopak laid down the papers and looked carefully at her. "You need to sleep."

"I I I I aaammmmm not-t-t-t-t going t-t-t-t-o ssssslee-e-e-e-p-p-p-p lik-k-k-e this-s-s-s-s!" she hissed at him.

Oh, Grandmother, he thought wildly as he stripped off the light shirt she had made him before he left. You are really not going to like this. He climbed into the cot beside her, grateful she hadn't strung a hammock as Hector had done in their tent. Pulling the two sleeping bags over them, he pulled her back against his chest and settled his hands on her abdomen.

The shaking stopped quickly, but still resumed at various intervals. Her skin was hot and dry even when she complained of the cold, and the best Kolopak could do was offer his nasty brew and distract her from her chattering teeth and shivering legs. He didn't want to think about her legs.

Between them, they planned the trek to the cloud forest. When she finally slept in his arms, he settled back and tried to concentrate on something that would distract him from her closeness. As he was finally drifting off, he felt her turn around and found her head on his chest. "Marcos," she whispered, still asleep, "you need a shower."

Hector found Kolopak pulling a shirt from his pack in the early light of dawn, looking tired and worn and happy all at once.

"Call Marcos. We're sending most of the kids home today. We'll break this morning so they can pack out in the afternoon while it's shady."

"Did Margarita approve this?"

"Not only approve, but we've planned a trek up into the cloud forest." Kolopak mumbled through the shirt. "I've got a list of stuff and supplies your dad will have to bring up."

"My dad bring up? My dad will have it brought up," Hector said stiffly.

"Fine." Kolopak pulled the shirt down over his belly and sighed. "I hate wearing dirty clothes. After we get the kids off, how about you and I find a nice waterfall for a good shower and wash our clothes? And what's a llama?"

"A llama? It's a pack animal. Why?"

"She's asking for four of them. And a bunch of supplies from her cousin in Starfleet."

"Captain Chakotay? What does she want from him?"

Kolopak looked at the younger man with half-closed eyes. Jealousy was difficult to deal with when there was a group to diffuse it, but if only four of them were going up to the cloud forest, Hector's green-eyed behavior would likely destroy his relationship with the Treban. And, oddly enough, Kolopak found he didn't want that friendship threatened. "She's got a list as long as that tent pole of supplies she wants from Starfleet. She hopes to get them tomorrow so that we can get an early start the next day."

Hector glared at the tent pole for a long moment, his jaw shifting left and right as he ground his teeth. Kolopak waited patiently, and finally, Hector focused on him once again. "OK. I'll call El Patron and have him get ready for the list. Anything else?"

"I have a few supplies - personal things - that I would like to have, but my money is here with me. Shall I pay you and ask him to get me the things, or should I send the cash down with one of the kids?"

"If you need it for the trek, it will be part of the expenses of the trip. Get whatever you need or want."

Kolopak smiled widely at his young friend. "Hector, how do you say friend around here?"

"Amigo."

"Then, tadder, you are one fine amigo."

"Tadder?"

"Friend. It's from Trebus."

"Tadder. I like it."

Hector picked up the communications device and signaled for his father as Kolopak strolled out into the camp. A few early people were up and moving, visiting the area designated for a latrine, or scouting around the cooks, looking for a spare banana to tide them over till breakfast was ready.

Kolopak had already attended to both needs, and now, gathering his courage, he headed to the small tent where the expedition leader should still be asleep. With any luck, he could grab their list for El Patron and get out of there before she woke.

"Hi," she said wearily, but with some bounce in her voice.

"Hi yourself." He was surprised. "You shouldn't be awake."

"No, I shouldn't," she agreed pleasantly. "But I'm feeling pretty good. What's in that nasty stuff?"

"Not much. Some herbs from home, a bit of honey I swiped from the mess tent."

"Nothing narcotic?"

"I don't think so. It's just a common remedy at home for some intestinal distress. I use it for lots of animals, horses, donkeys, mules, for colic. Lots of animals graze on it."

She reconsidered the cold cup in her hands, and then passed it to him. "I suspect the other benefit was being kept warm all night. Thank you."

He blushed.

She smiled. She hadn't seen a man blush like that since she was a teenager.

He tried to change the subject. "I told Hector to call his father. I came back to get the list we made."

"Take it. I'll break the news to the crew to break camp. Julio will be able to guide everyone down easily. The most massive things will need to stay here anyway."

"What things?"

"This tent, mostly. I don't want to haul all this up and then back down since nothing in here will be used when we're in the cloud forest. I'll want this stuff accessible when we get back, and this time of year, no one's coming up here to disturb it. I don't think any pruning is scheduled for another month."

He picked up their list. "I thought of a few other additions - do you have anything else to add?"

"Already done. Check to make sure we're not duplicating each other's list."

He nodded slowly, and yawned as he turned. "Hector and I will be looking for a decent waterfall for a shower this afternoon."

"That's a great idea. Kanicha will know where the best one is."

"I'll talk to her." He paused. "There's a lot I don't yet understand about cloud forests and llamas. Maybe you should look for someone else..."

She stood beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. They were virtually the same height, something that Kolopak hadn't noticed until now. "Kokopal, there's no one I would rather have on this trip than you."

Kathryn pulled up from her seat on the ground, and looked up at the patch of clouds that hindered her view of the rest of the mountain, clinging like gauzy cotton. "It's getting late. Where exactly are we going?"

He turned her shoulders and faced her toward Uno Anpotol. "That's the mountain we're heading up. Can you see a dark spot, shaped like an eye, just above the cloud line?"

She shaded her eyes, trying to focus better on the distant view. "No, I don't see it."

Despite her inability to see it, he explained, "That's Uno's Eye. We're heading up to it - it's a cave."

Nodding, she turned around to face him again. "Should we camp here tonight, or move up more before dark?"

He studied her, not the campsite. He'd been here several times over many years; he didn't need to consider its qualities before making a decision to set up their tents. "Have you done much tent camping?"

She shook her head. "I'm a happy child of the 24th century, Chakotay. I can build a space station out of two old garbage scows and three sheets of titanium hull-grade metal. I've never been good at setting up tents."

"Then let's skip the tents. Let's see if we can get to the Eye tonight."

"How far is it?" Her distaste was visible, but she did not decline the offer.

He consulted the sky and the sun. "Two days direct hiking to it. It's not a hard climb; a good trail was broken for it centuries ago. But..." He hesitated. "You wouldn't happen to have any pull with someone with a transporter, would you?"

"I might," she grinned at his teasing. "Anything to avoid a tent."

"A cave is better?"

She teased him back. "Depends on the company."

Seven had been given quarters near Louis Zimmerman's holographic development center, and had discovered a fondness for the old man. Reg Barclay had become another good friend, once he got past stuttering and tripping over his own feet whenever she walked into the room. Reg and Louis were an unlikely pair, and they frequently reminded her of Neelix and Tuvok. At McKinley Station, she had easy access to both of these friends via the Pathfinder frequency and subspace communication. Kathryn Janeway had visited several times, and the two had spent several days in Indiana before returning with a shuttle full of furniture for Seven's quarters. Her work was intensely satisfying. Not a life-threatening situation, not a red alert interrupted her progress on the gel pack modifications she and B'Elanna hashed out over late night cups of ratikjino.

It wasn't engines, but it was engineering, and B'Elanna took pleasure in figuratively belting the Vulcan designers between their pointy ears with every improvement she had conjured during the previous seven years as Voyager's chief engineer. Tom and Louis Zimmerman worked on some holographic projects together, but Tom's penchant for drama annoyed Zimmerman so often that they found themselves working on the same project at completely different hours. The organic whole of their product was so smooth that no one could tell which author was responsible for what aspect of the final holographic simulation - the terraforming of three of the planets decimated by the Cardassians before the war: Trebus, Vumlus IX, and De'Tark. Miral learned to sit up in anyone's lap and found that certain bald men and their holographic images were extremely susceptible to gummy smiles. Far more targ crackers made it into her mouth than her mother ever suspected.

Chakotay's meeting on Trebus may have been a front for another meeting, but it was still necessary. Trebus' natural state was forever altered by Cardassian firebombs, but there was a great deal of hope that the southern continent, uninhabited during the first 100 years of human life there, might support another colony if sufficient support was provided. The Federation and Cardassia had agreed to meet for discussions, but Chakotay was unconvinced that there would be any success. Not until the Klingon-Cardassian conflict was resolved, and that didn't look very promising.

Seven looked across the table at Chakotay, still dressed in his Starfleet uniform. She had expected him to appear in civilian clothes. The debriefing had ended, finally, and he was as yet unassigned to another ship, and everything he had written or said was that he was leaving the service as soon as possible.

She served him tea and some freshly made apple tarts, watching as he scooped up the final bites. "Seven, this was wonderful."

"Thank you," she said with grace. "I'm surprised..."

"That I'm still in uniform. I'm surprised too."

"What has happened?"

"The Klingons have happened. They're raiding several Cardassian planets. Since it's pirates and not the Klingon fleet, Martok isn't doing anything to stop it."

"Another war?"

"Cardassia can't afford it." He drank some tea and settled back, patting her hand. "Thank you, I didn't realize how hungry I was."

She took his plate back to the recycling unit where hers waited. "Chakotay..."

"Yes?"

She struggled for a moment for the words. "Did you spend much time with the Admiral?"

"Which Admiral?"

"Janeway."

Oh. He fleetingly looked away from her, then settled back into his chair again. "Some. Why?"

"She told me some things...about us. I wondered what she told you."

"Since I don't have the captain's aversion to knowing the future, I asked her what we should expect."

"What did she say?"

Chakotay and Seven hadn't seen each other in private more than five times since she took the position on McKinley Station. He didn't want to spend the evening talking about either Janeway. "Some things about the history of this period of time. The war between the Klingons and Cardassia, who the next president of the Federation would be...she said she told me that so I could bet against Paris."

She laughed politely.

"She also told me about us. She came back so that you would live, Seven. So we could be together."

"I know she said that." Seven returned to the table and sat down, a cup of tea for herself. "I've wondered if that was the truth."

"What do you mean, Seven?"

"You spent a great deal of time with her, Chakotay."

"We had to work together to modify the ship for the mission."

Her eyes were troubled. "You spent some off-duty time, too."

"I did. At her request. We never stopped being friends. She was...lonely for him, I think."

"Him? Don't you mean you?"

"I guess I do. We ended up differentiating ourselves. She was 'Admiral', her counterpart was the Captain. I was the Captain's Chakotay, he belonged to the Admiral." He played with the napkin. "Talking was an exercise in tenses. Half the time I was talking about my future in the past tense." He leaned forward, his elbows on the tabletop. "What are you really asking, Seven?"

She didn't know herself. She couldn't tell him that she had tracked his movements from Astrometrics, knowing how late he stayed with her in her quarters, or how many times they ate together.

"There's nothing to be jealous of, Seven."

"I'm not jealous, Chakotay. I'm..." her thought was unfinished.

Chakotay leaned back to gaze at the ceiling. It would be another unpleasant evening with Seven if he couldn't help her resolve her feelings, but try as he might, the effort was tiring. For the first time, he thought about Seven's youth and lack of experience. If she were older, the thought hissed in his mind...if she were older, I wouldn't have to deal with this.

"I'm confused. What kind of woman would break every rule she ever respected to let twenty-three crewmen live?"

That was a good question, one that Chakotay had asked himself daily as he sat beside his contemporary Janeway during the debriefings. When he asked her that, once, she responded with a great deal of sadness. "A very unhappy one, I think." Chakotay repeated his captain's answer without thinking that Seven might not understand.

"About what do you think she was unhappy?"

Chakotay found himself with the task of defending the words that he didn't really believe. "The Admiral," he stressed her title, "lost something on her way home, and she found a way to go back and get it."

"What was it she lost?"

He looked at her. "She lost you."

When had she learned to play with a teacup? The Seven he had known on Voyager would have scorned such idle behavior as inefficient, but here she was, doing the best imitation of Kathryn's fiddling.

"I'm not sure that was her entire reason. Had it been so, she could have gone back to any point to use the machine and bring us back. Why didn't she come a month earlier, before Joe Carey was killed?"

Chakotay's face, tight and anxious, changed to deep grief. "I asked her that." He paused a long while. "One night, shortly after she arrived, we had dinner together privately. I asked her the same question.

"For her, it had been twenty years or more since Joe's death, and she wept more that evening than I saw her weep when he died. I think that each one of those deaths hurt her far more than anyone realized. She came back to the time and place she knew she could get us back here."

Seven's eyes filled with tears. "I did not cry when Lieutenant Carey died, either."

He held her hand and offered her a napkin for the spilling tears, waiting for her to regain her composure, thinking about the Admiral. He had taken Kathryn's idea to answer Seven, but it wasn't his answer entirely. "In some ways, I understand her better now than I did when we were in the Delta Quadrant," he mused when she had calmed. He placed a fresh cup of tea in front of her, and walked to the window of her quarters, where he watched the familiar stars shine.

"Why?"

A simple question, tied up into a myriad of feelings and thoughts, none of them less than excruciating.

"Because I wasn't the captain, the crew losses didn't hit me as hard. Now that I'm back, and I see my former Maquis crewmates...what Starfleet and the Cardassians have done to them...I would do the same, to get them free. To try to avert the dangers. To save them." He took a deep drink of his tea, and wished it were laced with something stronger. "B'Elanna and the other Maquis crew have been well-received. B'Elanna's been promoted to commander, skipping a rank entirely. Tom's been reinstated with honor. You've been offered a ship." She hesitated. He hadn't told her that yet, she'd heard the rumor two days before.

But he sighed deeply. "I know. That's what makes it worse. There are only fourteen left in the Cardassian prison. There were over seventy." Another pause. "It rubs salt into the wound, Seven. The more successful I am, the more it hurts that they aren't here."

"That's why the Admiral did what she did?"

"Ultimately, I believe so."

"And you will do the same?"

"I hope to. The visit to Trebus was laughable. Those kids whose only claim to Trebus is that they or their parents were born there have no tie to the land, to the spirit of Trebus. Most of them live on Earth now, anyway. Two of them live in the town where my mother was born."

She remembered their day on the mountain, looking down onto a small coffee town. "Café Montigua?"

"Yes, living with some of my cousins, actually."

"What did the Federation offer?"

He fingered the pips on his collar. Adding the fourth pip had been his goal for many years. He had traded that Starfleet dream for a Maquis captaincy without looking back, but he couldn't go back to the dream without dealing with the regrets the return would bring. Like leaving fourteen men in a Cardassian prison camp for the rest of their lives, however short that might be.

"A ship or for Trebus?"

"Either." She stood beside him, looking smaller than usual, and he noticed that she no longer wore the high-heeled boots in which she had stalked Voyager.

"The ship is the USS Decker. She's a deep space scientific vessel, holds a crew of seventy, and has been specializing in a variety of spatial abnormalities, worm holes and particle fountains."

She smiled at the stars. That would be a pleasant posting for her. "And for Trebus?"

His voice changed, deepened with some emotion that frightened her. "It's pretty scary, Seven. The Federation wants us to sign over any claim to the planet in exchange for planetary rights on the planet of our choice. They want to blow up the slag on the northern continent, and then force a water volcanic explosion on the southern continent to hydrate the atmosphere. It will probably destroy all native life on the planet, but in twenty to thirty years, they hope that it will be habitable and support a large population for a strategically important planet. The Cardassians, of course, oppose this plan, but can't offer anything as an alternative."

"Water volcanic explosion?"

He sighed and leaned his head against the bulkhead window. "There's a large underwater body beneath the southern continent. By using some phasers and a few well-placed photon torpedoes, that water could be released. The water temperature is so high that it would form a steaming hot geyser, shooting thousands of meters into the air. The steam and water would mostly be evaporated into the dry air, and create either one giant storm system that might spread, or destroy the southern continent."

Seven knew about both hypotheses. She and Tom had worked with Louis Zimmerman for many hours trying to translate them into the holographic programs Chakotay had been shown as he orbited Trebus with the other heirs. "What was decided?"

"At this point, nothing. Most of the children are too young to make up their minds, and their guardians feel too overwhelmed to make a coherent decision. The Federation," and the title had taken on the tone of a curse, "has provided them with every reason to go along with the proposal, and gave little or no concerns to the destruction of the southern continent or the animal and plant life already there."

"How will you vote?" she asked, thinking it was a rhetorical question.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I needed to talk to you first."

She dropped her eyes to the floor.

  On to Part Two

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