triangularity | AUs of our AUs: A timeline diverges, and a would-be queen leaves her kingdom behind.

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hadand

AUs of our AUs: A timeline diverges, and a would-be queen leaves her kingdom behind.

Hadand knew he was here. She waited in the throne room, dressed in her family's green rather than the royal crimson, a black sash at her waist. Cama stood by in Shield Arm position, having had both the faith in Hadand and Evred and the air of authority necessary to take over the Guard and back Hadand's orders. When Evred finally reached the throne room, his arrival heralded as much by the people's gasps and murmurs as by any formal announcement, she saluted, fist to heart.

Everything blurred together after that. Evred got her alone at first opportunity, taking Hadand by the hands once they were safely shut into the royal nursery where they had grown up together. "You held the kingdom. There's nothing greater anyone could ask."

It struck her suddenly, how tall and straight he'd grown. Only his expressions distinguished him from his late father. There were new lines around his eyes since last she'd seen him. Even at twenty, he was old enough and wise enough that Hadand could easily trust him with a kingdom. She would trust Evred with anything, herself included. He could never care for her romantically, of course, and she stamped out any faint tendrils of attraction before they could take root and grow strong.

"Sponge--" she started, cutting herself off at use of the childhood nickname. "Evred, I know you have far more than your share of worries right now, but could I ask you to take on one more?" At his nod of assent, an unspoken 'of course' implied in the look that accompanied it, she continued. "There are whispers in the palace. Eyes follow me, and people stop speaking when I enter a room. I've no wish to burden you, but things changed after my father went home to Choread Elgaer. I fear it may mean more trouble coming."

He squeezed her hands briefly before releasing them. "Hadand," and he paused here to consider his words, "you know that I trust you completely, and know you too well to believe any testimony against you." The one bit of broken trust between them had been long-since forgiven, though never forgotten. Evred loved her like a sister. He had always trusted and looked up to her, in a way he never had his own sibling.

"That means there is false testimony," Hadand concluded, as he'd known she would. "Lies to further muddy the waters, as if things weren't bad enough. What do they say?"

Evred's mouth twisted. "You were implicated in my brother's assassination." At her look of outrage, he continued, "I doubt they can get you executed for it, but they will almost certainly have you imprisoned in the numbers they are amassing to back their story.

"Hadand, I want you to go. Like Inda." He never mentioned Inda aloud anymore, but Hadand knew her youngest brother was always in Evred's thoughts. The name alone was proof of his seriousness. "I want you out of reach of this, and there will be no honorable return to Iasca Leror. It is all I can do for you. You deserve to be Hadand-Gunvaer, and hailed as Deheldegarthe by the people. You earned that place. You defended the throne with your own two hands, and I had thought to ask..."

He trails off momentarily, before shaking his head. "Go to Lindeth Harbor. Sail on the ship with least ties to home."

Hadand had remained stoic throughout the speech, but that last word, home, broke her facade. Evred could see how lost she felt now, rather than just surmising it. She knew nothing of space travel. When Barend came home to speak of his time aboard ships, it sounded like nonsense to her. And Iasca Leror was, of course, her home. Hadand could recall no time when she had not known that she would be its queen one day. Her life was here. Her family, what little of it remained to her, was here.

Her family.

With Hadand gone, that would leave not a single one of her parents' children alive and within the kingdom. Her mother would be left with the two girls she'd raised to wed the two sons now lost to her, and not even any letters from a daughter in the royal city as consolation.

That was unacceptable. "If I go," she said quietly, "I need a promise from you. As my friend, my family, and my king."

"Anything," he promised, "if it is within my power to do."

Hadand breathed deep before she spoke again, chin jutting out stubbornly. "Bring my brother home. Swear it to me, and swear it to my mother. Write to my mother from time to time. Tell her I escaped safely. Pass along my love, if you can manage it." She reached out, very lightly touching Evred's arm. Her voice was very soft. "Inda's situation was nothing like mine. He refused a whipping after contrived boyhood dishonor, not because he was afraid but because he did not deserve it. Find a way to set it aside. The revelation of your uncle's other treachery should help. Find Inda, and set things right."

He said he would, and so, she left.

As luck would have it, Hadand found the most foreign ship of all, one whose ties were in an entirely different part of the galaxy. Hadand pled her case with Captain Janeway of the Voyager and was allowed aboard. It pained her to leave Iasca Leror and know that there would truly be no return, but at least now there can be no second guessing.

Hadand can never go home.

She tries to settle into her new life aboard ship, the greenest of new recruits but willing to learn. Hadand cautiously works her way into the crew trying to find a place and a purpose after losing the only ones she'd known.

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It was purely luck that had Voyager passing by at that particular time, the exact moment when the young woman needed to leave. Captain Janeway hadn't taken much convincing to allow her passage. The situation had seemed grim and as it was somewhat similar to others they had met -- such as Neelix and Kes and Kallen, though no one remembered her, and even Seven -- the captain had readily accepted. The only caveat was finding a place for Hadand to help out.

Neelix performed his job as morale officer as well as he ever did, leading her around, introducing her to the crew, and telling her what life was like on the starship. He also told her what little he knew of Starfleet and the Earth they were returning to, but as soon as Chakotay could take her off Neelix's hands, he corrected a few of those misconceptions with a warm smile.

The Commander -- whose rank insignia was the provisional bar given to all of the Maquis when they joined Voyager's crew -- is calm and slow with her, helping her as he can when he's off-duty and needs to rescue her from Neelix. Today, they're taking another walk around the ship and he intends to show her the holodeck. Maybe that will help her find a little tranquility while she settles in.

"I hope Neelix wasn't too overwhelming today," he says as they walk. "He means well, but I know he can be hard to deal with sometimes."

The enthusiasm with which Neelix fulfills his duties is terribly jarring to Hadand, whose people live steeped in tradition and protocol, with a propensity for secrets. Their joys are expressed to those closest to them, of course, but never with quite such fervor or exuberance. The Commander's presence is always soothing in its aftermath. "His dedication to his duties and willingness to help are commendable," she replies diplomatically, saying nothing by way of criticism. The tiny smile she gives Chakotay implies her agreement, though.

Hadand is well aware of what Chakotay has been doing The casual check-ins after her time with Neelix, the time reserved with no prompting on her part for showing Hadand around the ship... Chakotay's support comes in a form both familiar and greatly appreciated. She may verbally thank him one day. In the meantime, Chakotay regularly finds himself the recipient of grateful smiles.

She may know nothing of space travel, but she has fallen into Star Fleet protocols more easily than Chakotay's Maquis did at first. Her background is miitary, leadership, and diplomacy. Hadand may miss her own traditions but finds it easy enough to fix the new ones in her mind.

Hadand can assimilate. Feeling at home is another matter. "I confess," she admits to Chakotay when they reach a corridor empty of other crew members, "that I still feel a bit at loose ends. I was accustomed to hours of drill every day, my own and that of the guards or the girls in training at the palace, usually followed by hours of work or study. All my days were full except Restday. Even then I was out of bed by dawn for knife practice. I worry that I am not being as useful here as I ought to be." And she dreadfully misses having someone with whom to practice the Odni.

Chakotay well knows how difficult Neelix can be to handle, even when he's at his best. Maybe even more so then. Neelix means well, but he's always had a little too much enthusiasm, a little too much heart. At least he's gotten a lot better than the first few days where he turned the Captain's personal dining room into a kitchen. Chakotay makes a note to tell Hadand about that sometime.

Chakotay enjoys their time together, small though it is so far. He likes her smile and often she'll find that her smile brings out one of his. It's so odd to think that only a handful of years ago, he was a terrorist, angry at both the Cardassians and the Federation and taking that anger out on both. Now he's one of Voyager's best diplomats and her First Officer. Funny how time changes things.

"Maybe we just haven't found a good place to use your talents," Chakotay suggests, pondering where they really could place her as they turn the corner to the entrance of one of the holodecks. It's currently off, which works well enough for his purposes. They can figure out what program to run or make once inside.

"Don't tell her I said this," he continues, lowering his voice as the doors part and he leads the way onto the holodeck, "but you might be able to convince B'Elanna to practice with you." If she's lucky. B'Elanna's been very good about accepting her Klingon heritage lately, though, so there's always a chance she'll be willing to work with someone new.

The doors hiss shut behind them and he turns to see Hadand. The bare holodeck isn't impressive at all like this, but the technology itself looks like nothing else they have on Voyager. Unless, she's been paying attention in sickbay, where there are holo-emitters for the Doctor. She hasn't needed to see him yet, but it's only a matter of time before the Doctor comes calling. He's already been after Chakotay for keeping her away, but the Commander had wanted her to settle in first before they tossed a holographic doctor at her.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but this is called the holodeck. It's where a lot of us spend at least a portion of our free time. The computer has a number of programs saved and we can even build one for you, if you'd like. It can be anything, a place or a representation of a story you know. Whatever it is, it's interactive. Everything will look and feel real. It's really fun once you get used to it."

They could even make a program of her home if she wanted it, as a way to remember the people and places she misses.

"I specialized in commanding defense at home, but I believe Lieutenant Tuvok may consider me a little too violent to approve of me as a security officer." She grins at the recollection of Tuvok's expression when she first boarded, weapons hidden all over her in addition to the ones strapped in plain sight at her waist.

Hadand considers the idea of practicing with members of the Voyager's crew, like B'Elanna. The Odni has traditionally been the trump card of Marlovan women. Teaching it to a non-Marlovan or to a man was a taboo never undertaken lately. I am never going home, she thinks to herself. This time it sounds like an assurance as well as a curse. "I would be glad to teach anyone willing. I do miss the Odni, and there is only so much I can do without a partner." Smiling, she confesses, "I appreciate that you do not find the idea of knives primitive. I thought your people might. Of course I learned to use any weapon we had access to on Iasca Leror, but the older traditional forms were always my favorites." Hadand learned every weapon with a singlemindedness borne of the knowledge that the planet's capitol would one day be entirely her responsibility to defend. The queen was in charge of defense, the king of battles in a larger sense. Hadand would never be queen now, and her lessons could well go unused. "Here, it would serve as exercise and something of home."

She needs the exercise; short and stocky, Hadand is all curves in spite of her muscle and extensive physical training. Sometime around puberty handsprings became much more difficult. It would be so easy for her to gain weight and lose strength, were she to become lazy. But she needs the peace and the familiarity more. Yes, peace, for despite being a means of fighting, the practice itself has always been one she finds calming. Hadand craves this bit of home, the almost meditative state of movements so well ingrained that they are second nature. Her knives are an extension of her, and Hadand never needs to think about where they are or how to use them.

Eyes widening when he explains the holodeck, Hadand moves to get a closer look at the technology. Iasca Leror never had anything but the barest essentials when it came to technology. Sartor trusted no people so military with knowledge or other useful things. Hadand knows that she received limited exposure to even the innovations common within her own system. The Voyager is in another class entirely. "I have never seen a hologram. Show me something now, if you don't mind, and maybe another day we could program at least a part of the palace where I grew up."

Not the people, especially not at first. That would be too painful. For now, Hadand would just like another glimpse of stone halls, of banners, of open courtyards and the view from the walls.

Chakotay's lips twist upwards in amusement at her words. "Were we on the Enterprise with their Klingon Chief of Security, he would have considered you more than worthy of helping just by looking at you." Tuvok is, admittedly, serious in a different way from Worf, but Chakotay has no doubts that Worf would have appreciated her warrior background. He likely would have challenged her to fights many times. "We might favor phasers as Starfleet officers, but many of us know how to use other weapons." Ones like knives, guns, bat'leths, or other Klingon weapons.

While Hadand is busy examining the holo-emitters, Chakotay addresses the computer. He's already got an idea of what to show her. After her words about knives and weapons, he thinks he can show her a few she might find interesting. "Computer. One Klingon--" He glances at Hadand to see her reaction. "--and two bat'leths." Within seconds, one Klingon appears holding a bat'leth. The Klingon doesn't move for the moment, which is nice, but that won't last. The other bat'leth appears in Chakotay's hands and he offers it to Hadand, showing her how to hold it.

"I don't like to fight unless I have to, I usually spend a lot of my free time in meditation, but I might be able to practice," Chakotay says with a smile. "You could come in here to practice alone, if you'd rather. We'll have to assign you a time to use the holodecks, but it could work."

Part of him fully expects her to ask why a pacifist would be on a military ship and also why one would know how to properly hold a weapon like a bat'leth. If she does, he'll answer. Now that she's a member of their crew and on her way to Earth with them, he doesn't have to worry about bending the Prime Directive around her. She'll hear enough stories from the rest of the crew, especially the Maquis members if she's astute enough to pick up on their conversations.

A simple smile is Hadand's only response to what she takes as a compliment, and then she is quickly distracted by the person and weapons that appear at Chakotay's request.

Her eyes light up at the sight of it, gaze intent on the entirely unfamiliar design of bladed weapon. "Three handholds?" she asks, taking it from him and surprised by the weight in her hands. It isn't just a visual simulation. This feels like a real weapon, and once Chakotay corrects her grip, she shifts her arms experimentally, trying to get a feel for the way the bat'leth might be used.

Hadand does not call him out on his pacifism being at odds with his role here or his knowledge of the bat'leth. It doesn't sound strange to her at all, that one who dislikes fighting might be in a military position. Being prepared for defense is a basic tenet of Marlovan life. Her sister figure, Tdor, for instance, is all about building rather than tearing down, but she went through her years in training the same way Hadand had. Every first son was heir, every second son was the land's defender in a Marlovan noble family. Women commanded defense of the castle itself. Many were not fighters by nature, but all of them learned to defend themselves and their homes.

"I don't enjoy fighting," Hadand states clearly. "I enjoy knowing how to use a weapon, and knowing my knives so well that they feel like extensions of my body. I enjoy drill, spars, demonstrations, and training. Real fights, where something important hangs in the balance, are far too serious to be fun." Only once has Hadand faced a real fight with true consequences should she lose; all the rest of her life was about preparing for the likelihood that she would someday. Her years of training stood her in good stead as Hadand and her two knives stood between peace and civil war. She saved the throne for Evred, and that fact alone made all the hours she put in over the years worthwhile.

She tries to explain why her knife practice is so important to her. "The Odni is like meditation for me. Especially without an opponent, going through forms is calming. It has been years since I last needed to consciously think about the movements during my own morning practice. Only when teaching others." Which she'll gladly do, if she has volunteers.

"Having a larger space in which to move would be good, but I don't need to be alone for it." Not all the time, certainly. There was something a little lonely about every practice being completed on her own, and her style is no secret here. Even its original purpose is no longer a secret.

Once Hadand has a good idea of how to hold the bat'leth, Chakotay steps back to give her room. Regarding the Klingon as he listens, he wonders how she might handle more Klingon techniques. Part of what she says sounds exactly like what he would expect to hear from a full-blooded Klingon. The rest sounds like a normal human. He nods, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"The Klingon people have a technique called Mok'bara," he begins, turning his attention back to Hadand. "They use it as a basis for their hand-to-hand and weapons combat, but it can also be used for meditation. I've heard the forms are used to clear the mind. I've never actually learned it myself, but... it might not be a bad idea." Honestly, if he and Hadand learned it together, it might actually be interesting and maybe a little bit fun.

Speaking of things they could do together: "I would be happy to learn," he answers, that smile playing with the corners of his lips. He's always found her to be an engaging and interesting person and now is no different. That's probably why he's decided to spend so much time with her. Well, one reason, anyway.

"Computer, show mok'bara techniques." With the order given, the Klingon finally moves. Using the bat'leth as an extension of his arms, just like what Hadand was talking about just now, the Klingon settles into the Mok'bara technique. Chakotay watches the sequence for a while, thinking back to his own past, his people, his colony and tribe. Most people they meet never find out that half the crew wasn't chosen to run Voyager, that half of them fought against the Federation if the Federation fought against them, or that Chakotay's people had rejected the modern life for a long, long time. His joining Starfleet had been a big deal, a blow against his father that they never recovered from. Not making amends with his father was his biggest regret to date... and the reason he had joined the Maquis.

Maybe Hadand will learn more about him than most.

"The holodeck can be as large as you want it to be. The holo-emitters can project anything you can program into the computer system. If you want a larger space, we can certainly create a larger space."

"On Iasca Leror," Hadand confesses very quietly, "the Odni is a secret of Marlovan women. Our last resort. Its original purpose was to allow us to defeat larger, stronger," male is heavily implied here, though Hadand refrains from stating it outright, "opponents, and it serves the purpose well. Its use allowed me to save the throne for a man who grew up loving me as a sister. Evred, the current king, knows the style, as did my youngest brother. I taught Inda only at my mother's request, and many of my countrywomen would have condemned me for it. He taught Evred the basics."

Clearly, she declares, "I would not offer the knowledge at all if we were to return. Here, I see no need for secrets." Out in open space, Hadand is not a political figure charged with defending the entire royal city. She is not navigating multi-layered politically fraught waters, and she has no need to worry about attempted coups or assassinations. All she wants is this piece of home, and there is no reason to deny herself its comfort. "I'd like to teach you, if you're willing."

Hadand's eager gaze attaches itself intently to the Klingon hologram when Chakotay orders him to run through techniques, not a single glance spared for the friend who brought her here. She memorizes the sequence, and then moves through it herself.

She may move very slowly, but there is no hesitance in the fluid shifting of Hadand's body. Speed will come easily enough, once she has fixed the forms in her mind and her muscle memory. For now, it is much more important to learn how this feels in all her limbs, in her shoulders and her back and her abdomen. Hadand draws from similarities to her own style but is also careful to note the many differences. "Computer, please repeat those techniques," she requests, wanting another look to pick out nuances she will have missed on first viewing.

"I wouldn't mind the throne room or a courtyard," Hadand tells Chakotay with a grin. She and Inda, and later Evred, used the room as their training space for forbidden teachings of the Odni. No one entered it most days, and certainly not during the early hours of the morning, before day broke and everyone began their day. That hour before dawn, it had been hers, her space for teaching the boys she loved to defend themselves. "No people."

At least not yet. Later, she might program in someone like Shendan, a friend but not one of those closest to her heart, with whom to demonstrate the Odni at its full potential.

Perceptive as ever, Chakotay picks up on the implications of that statement, but doesn't make a comment on it. He finds every culture fascinating, how each one differs. This was the sort of thing that interested him back in the day, when he was still a student at the Academy and happy with Starfleet.

"I can understand why." Why in all cases. "I would be honored if you felt you could teach me." He's a very good student when he's interested enough. This? This would be something worthy of his time. "Maybe in the future, I could teach you a little about my people." His people, not the crew of this starship, but his actual people. His tribe. The two are vastly different. Of course, the talk of his people might bring with it the question of how he came to be first officer of Voyager, but they'll cross that when they get there.

Watching her learn Mok'bara is like watching a dancer. Or maybe like watching Kathryn be a scientist. Chakotay can tell that this is important to Hadand and so he steps back and lets her work. She's lovely, graceful, and a very good student. Aside from the Mok'bara technique, she's already mastering voice command of Voyager. She doesn't have an official rank yet -- yet being the key; she might end up a provisional officer like half the crew and if that happens and Chakotay has his way, despite any misgivings he has towards Tuvok, she'll serve as a security officer. He feels that would be the best use of her talents, but hasn't mentioned it yet so as not to get her hopes either up or down -- but they programmed her voice into the system so she could at least use things like the replicators.

"Whenever you'd like, you can tell me the dimensions, what it all looked like, and we can program it in for you." This wouldn't be the first time someone had brought a piece of home to Voyager and if it will help Hadand settle in, Chakotay doesn't see the harm in it. "No people." That he can definitely respect.

That by now familiar smile of gratitude is once again directed his way. This time, Hadand follows it with the words themselves. Her voice hushed, she offers Chakotay a simple, heartfelt, "Thank you."

The promise of a partner for knife practice makes Hadand feel so much more at home. She has taught before, but always for the other person's sake. Chakotay's offer is a gift to her rather than the reverse. Hadand resolves to fully appreciate it.

And her closest friendships at home were marked by silence, by knowing one another well enough to read between all the words penned or spoken. Tdor was like that. She and Hadand could speak with a glance, with a sentence related to a different topic entirely. Evred too, usually. Hadand knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. On the Voyager, there is no one Hadand knows so well that she can hear all the things they leave out of conversation, nor who knows her well enough to pick up on her own subtleties. She has had to become more blunt here. Hadand is grateful for the chance to learn more about Chakotay, who has made such efforts to welcome her. "I would appreciate learning about your people," she tells him, her sincerity obvious.

Watching the Mok'bara sequence again, Hadand repeats the movements herself, once at her previous pace to correct any small errors, and once more at something closer to full speed.

She looks forward to programing a piece of the palace. "All this metal... I miss the stones of our castles." To be surrounded by stone walls again would be a blessing, even if the stones are no more real than the weapon gripped in Hadand's hands right now. It feels real enough. Perhaps the walls will as well. "I will write some notes and maybe make sketches if those would help." For the throne room, with its greater amount of detail, those seem like they may be necessary.

Chakotay can see why Hadand would be thanking him; in his eyes, though, he should be the one thanking her for her offer to teach him more of herself and her culture. Chakotay is always an eager student, but he would never push her for something she did not want. The fact that she cares enough to teach him means a lot to him, as well.

Someday Chakotay and Hadand will likely get to the point where words will no longer be necessary. It took Chakotay and Kathryn years to get to that point, but they managed it. Now the command team simply speaks with looks a good deal of the time. With as much as he is coming to know Hadand, he can see himself learning to read her the way he reads Kathryn and perhaps she will read him the way Kathryn does. Most of the crew knows each other well enough to say some things without speaking; most still require words. There are a handful of people who know each other on a deeper level -- Tom & B'Elanna, Tom & Harry, Chakotay and Kathryn, Tuvok and Kathryn (though Tuvok rarely avoids using words, as far as Chakotay has seen). Perhaps Hadand will find somewhere to fit into that. Neelix didn't and neither did Seven, but Neelix relies more on words than most people on Voyager and Seven...

Seven is Borg. Chakotay makes a note to warn Hadand about Seven today. She shouldn't be left unaware of Seven's presence or mannerisms.

Shaking off thoughts of their resident Borg, Chakotay watches her for a minute longer. Stones and castles. That can be arranged. "That would help," he answers. "For now, I think I might be able to fix that. It won't be the same, but it might help. Computer, create an ancient stone Scottish castle."

Instead of asking for clarification, which was what he had expected, the computer plops them into the courtyard of an ancient castle. It likely isn't anything like what she's used to, but maybe it's similar enough and has enough stone to help her acclimate better.

"This is from one Earth's ancient castles," he explains, glancing around at the walls, the fog rolling in from the ocean that isn't far away, and the birds flying overhead. Again, he doesn't speak of Earth as his personal home. It isn't. It's close, but it isn't exactly home to him anymore. "I thought it might help to have a transition state."

Hadand inhales sharply at the sudden shifting of their location, and her body goes visibly tense for just a moment. She calms very quickly when she sees where they are now, a broad smile spreading unthinkingly across her face. It isn't the same, of course. The grey stone walls are not the rich golden brown of her home, and there are clear architectural differences. But it's close enough. Hadand laughs.

Chakotay has done enough for her that thanks would go stale in her mouth if she kept repeating them over and over. Her response should be evidence enough of Hadand's appreciation. "It does help. I used to drill in courtyards like this, though of course the castle itself was different."

Her gaze stays on Chakotay only long enough to answer him. As soon as Hadand finishes speaking, her eyes dart in all directions, eagerly taking in the sky, the birds, the castle itself, the scent of the air. It's not Iasca Leror. It isn't the royal palace of the Montrei-Vayir, where she grew up among the family into which she was to marry, nor Tenthen Castle where she was born. The world is different, the creatures and air and animals, not just the castle itself. Even so, Hadand is comfortable here.

She realizes only now, as tension slides away, just how starved she's been for something familiar. A weapon in her hands even if it isn't her knives, open sky above, and stone walls all around. Hadand's shoulders relax. Her feet shift to something that feels more natural and less forced, somewhere between the new Mok'bara stance and a familiar Odni one. She will learn Mok'bara properly, but right now Hadand just wants to feel at home, or to approach as near as she can come to that feeling.

A good deal of tension in Chakotay releases at Hadand's obvious delight, her response to the change of scenery more positive than he had anticipated. She seems to be doing as well as she can be, but to see that bright smile brings a small but very happy one to his face in return. He likes seeing happiness and contentment on the faces of those around him, more so when his personal feelings become more, well, personal.

"This castle is from one of the old kingdoms of Earth, one that eventually became a country before the world government was formed," he speaks, watching her settle into the new environment. Eventually, he steps forward so he can gaze through a hole in the stones, out across the castle grounds. Past the fog, the ocean rolls, invisible to the naked eye for now. "That country was called Scotland. Anytime you have holodeck time scheduled, you can come back here and request this setting."

Perhaps someday he'll show her some of the programs already saved to the computer. For now, though, this is enough. He doesn't need to overwhelm her so soon.

"We can go take a walk sometime, if you'd like. I'm not familiar with this particular setting at all."

Hadand nods, filing away all the information for future reference. Should they ever reach Earth, she wants to be well versed in its people's history and customs. Even now, with so much of the Voyager's crew human, it seems important to learn as much as she can.

She joins Chakotay at the opening in the wall, surveying the lands around them. "I would enjoy that." She considers for a second, then adds, her voice joking, "Unless ancient Scotland happened to have riding beasts as well as stone castles, in which case I'd rather go riding."

Hadand knows that even if such creatures exist, she will need to learn to ride all over again. A new nonverbal language, new gaits and how to shift her own body to compensate for them. But she thinks the lessons will go quickly, the skills coming as naturally as ever they have. Hadand's balance while mounted has been near-perfect for years.

Sniffing at the salt-scented air, Hadand asks, "Are we near the sea?" She knows, academically, that oceans smell of salt on her world too, but she has never had much reason to visit them. The royal city was entirely landlocked, and Tenthen Castle far enough from the coast that she was unwilling to spend any portion of her brief, precious visits home while growing up riding out to it.

They'll have to spend a lot of time with PADDs and computers and what little is left of Earth's ancient history. Some of it was lost after the Third World War, but at least everything after that is very well preserved. If she's curious about Chakotay's people, that's much easier to explain.

"I wouldn't know," he answers, his lips forming a smile, one that seems to widen with her joy while simultaneously keeping its gentle warmth. "But we can find out, if you'd like." He makes a note to make another simulation later, one with actual horses.

For now, though, he turns and heads towards an archway through the stone wall on the other side of the courtyard. "I think we might be. This simulation is as unfamiliar to me as it is to you. I don't often use the holodeck. I like reading instead." However, anthropology is one of his favorite interests, so he will be more than happy to explore this with her. Smiling at her as he ducks through the archway, he tosses a casual, "Computer, delete Klingon warrior," over his shoulder. If there are any people here, at least they won't have to worry about a Klingon in the background.

"So you like riding, you're accustomed to training with weapons, and you like the stone castle of your home. Is there anything else I should know about you?" he asks as they walk the path around the edge of the castle to get outside. He does want to know as much about her as he can find out and he'd like for her to know as much about him as he does her. If she asks him questions in turn, he will be happy to answer them.

Hadand nods, grinning. "I spent a lot of time at the stables. I loved riding, even if it was far less necessary for me than it was for most of our warriors." Perhaps because it was less necessary. Hadand could learn to ride secure in the knowledge that she would not carry the lives of hundreds or thousands of people on her shoulders while she did it. Hadand's knives had to support the weight of the kingdom's heart. Her riding was an inevitable skill, because Marlovans have always been riders, but it wasn't a necessary one. Not in order to keep her people safe.

"What kinds of books?" Hadand asks curiously. "I read a lot at home, but mostly things that were useful. It was studying rather than reading for pleasure." She falls into step beside Chakotay, glances around at their surroundings, and then drops her gaze to the bat'leth still in her hands. She sighs, not wanting to give up the comfort of even a hologram of a weapon. "Computer, delete bat'leth."

Hadand considers for a moment, and speaks slowly when she answers. "You've given me enough that it feels, oh, almost ungrateful to ask for more." Because she does appreciate the lengths to which Chakotay has gone to make her feel at home aboard the Voyager. "I'd thought to ask if you'd mind joining me for dinner tonight. Privately, preferably. I reconciled our calendars as well as I'm able, and it's Restday. We share bread," and usually wine, but there is no one of Marlovan blood here and she won't ask it of anyone among the Voyager's crew, not yet, "and sing, usually songs about our ancestors. Marlovan history is sung, not written, and time is traditionally measured not in years but in great deeds."

This is the first Restday she intends to celebrate since coming aboard the ship. Hadand knows it will be a little lonely, having no drums, no dancing, no voices to join hers in song. She can bear that. Having no one with whom to break bread, though, would be insupportable. She has a feeling that it would taste like sawdust in her mouth, that each swallow would be a battle.

Hadand has never sung alone before, and she isn't quite ready to do that in the mess hall among all the ship's crew. Not quite alone, with a friend, seems the right balance at least for this week.

Edited (verb tense agreement is the bane of my existence) 2015-02-28 22:39 (UTC)

"Anything I can get my hands on," Chakotay answers honestly, even as he eyes the bat'leth in her hands until it disappears. She could have kept it, but if there are any locals, they might not take so well to it. Maybe they can find a knife or another weapon in the simulation. At least as long as they're here. "But I most prefer books about anthropology. I enjoy learning about other cultures, the pasts that make them who they are now."

It's one reason why he's been so interested in learning about her and her people, why the idea of sharing her customs fascinates him as well as it makes him feel honored that she would ask. He knows well what it's like to feel incomplete without performing certain traditions and rituals; he has several of those himself, scattered throughout the year. "I would be honored to join you," he says seriously, his gaze showing how deeply he feels towards this idea. "I'm afraid I won't know your songs, but... perhaps I can tell you a little of my people in return, give you some of our legends and stories."

Of course, she could teach him anything she would want. At this point, he's coming to realize he would do quite a lot for her, and has already. Hadand is someone very special to him, special in a way that few people have ever been to him. If she asked, he would hang a new moon for her, so to be taught any number of songs to sing with her on this Restday would be fine with him. He would perform the duty to the best of his ability.

"We could use either my quarters or yours, whichever you would feel most comfortable in," he continues as they finally pass through another archway and head out of the castle to an open field. The ocean isn't far away. "I enjoy learning more about your people and I wouldn't mind sharing the traditions of mine with you. I wouldn't consider this request ungrateful." Quite the opposite, actually. To him, it seems like a request she wouldn't make of him if she didn't trust him and that makes his heart warm further.

Hadand can see now why he's so interested, and she thinks Chakotay may enjoy the favor he does her tonight. She'll sing him Hymn to the Beginning first, even though that one is usually sung infrequently, saved for the start of each new year. "The songs are idealized versions of our history, in most cases." Given the situation that brought her aboard the Voyager, that should come as no surprise. Tensions between Marlovan nobility, an attempted coup, an averted civil war, but the songs didn't refer to those things. She wonders, for an instant, if Evred will someday clear her name, if he'll be free to add a verse to a song in her honor.

Hadand likes the idea of a bit of her staying on Iasca Leror, part of Marlovan tradition. "You're welcome, of course, to ask about anything I sing afterward." Hadand was raised so steeped in history and tradition that hearing her sing and asking questions may be one of the best ways to get to know her motivations, everything that shaped her.

"I can sing alone, though I would hesitate to do so in front of the entire crew in the mess hall. Either quarters are fine." Hadand is comfortable enough with Chakotay that she doesn't mind being in his space rather than her own. And neither room will ever be an open plain or a Marlovan castle. Either way, it's enough to ask, having someone to share the meal. "I'll miss the drums and the dancing and the voices of my people, but I know all our songs as well as I know my own name. I just couldn't face the idea of eating Restday bread alone. I'd like to hear about your people."

Of course she would. She still knows nowhere near enough about Chakotay, whose presence has been such an important part of her comfort aboard the Voyager. She genuinely likes Chakotay. He doesn't feel like another Marlovan, but he has never felt jarringly foreign either. Hadand is at ease in his presence in a way she wasn't even among most of her own people aside from close friends. There are no political tensions here to mar things. She may not have figured out the trick of wordless communication with him yet, but her conversations with Chakotay are easier and more open than any she's managed since she last saw Joret or Evred. It's all she can do to keep a broad smile off her face at the sight of him when he approaches.

While the holodeck and this castle are the closest Hadand has come to feeling at home in terms of setting, Chakotay is the closest she's come in terms of company. He has been for awhile now, Hadand realizes. "I've never really heard any legends or stories that aren't Marlovan, except for the ones that started out as Iascan, before our peoples merged." That's part of why she plans on singing Hymn to the Beginning tonight. It explains the start of Marlovan rule on Iasca Leror. It was a conquering, but it was also an interchange of blood and traditions until they eventually wound up, for the most part, one people.

"We could use the holodeck," Chakotay suggests after a moment. "I may have to shuffle the time slots around again--" And ask a few favors in return. "--but it shouldn't be difficult." Shouldn't. Of course, doing that would certainly open them up to the Gossip Squadron, a name he and Kathryn had come up with for the time-honored tradition of spying on and gossiping about fellow crew members. They don't have an exact list of who is involved, but they have an idea. Tom Paris is certainly one, which automatically implicates Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres. The others are various faces he and Kathryn have tended to ignore, mostly because they know well that everyone needs a way to diffuse pent-up energy. As long as they aren't betting replicator rations anymore, the captain and commander are turning a blind eye to it.

Besides, it keeps them out of other trouble.

"Maybe your quarters would be a better idea. I can bring a few things over for talk afterwards." Best not to give the Gossip Squadron any more fuel than they will already have, even if taking dinner in each other's quarters will certainly do just that.

As for the talk of his people, his smile fades in intensity but not in warmth. Talking of his tribe will not be difficult, but his past will bring up the problem of the Maquis, a discussion no one has yet brought up with Hadand to his knowledge. He isn't even certain if she has noticed the difference in rank insignia on some of them. Most of the ship's crew wears the normal rank pip insignia, the symbol of true Starfleet officers, but some of them -- most notably B'Elanna and Chakotay -- sport provisional rank bars because of their status as Maquis. Starfleet still considers them to be the enemy and they know it will be a long, hard road if they ever reach The Alpha Quadrant again. Chakotay isn't entirely looking forward to that explanation, but it is essential if Hadand is to ever understand him and the combined crew of Voyager.

"Ancestors are very important to my people as well," he begins, also not looking forward to explaining how he betrayed his father and people to join Starfleet. Even though he has attempted to make peace with that through the Maquis and contacting the Sky People, and also through his acceptance of his tribe and their way of life, it often feels too little too late. "Our culture is steeped in tradition, our stories and lives built around nature, the understanding and respect of everything that is offered to us. Most of our legends revolve around ancestors and nature, our tales involving animal behavior to explain how our universe works."

Sometimes, of course, they just make up the stories on the spot. That is also part of how he and his tribe have always functioned. Many times has he offered Kathryn stories like these and he hopes to do the same for Hadand some day. There is also the topic of spirit guides. He is long overdue for a talk with his guide about everything going on in his life, his new friend included.

Hadand knows people gossip. She doesn't really mind, as long as it doesn't make Chakotay less likely to spend time with her. People are always saying one thing or another. Some of it's true, and some of it isn't. As Hlinlaef, future queen, everyone noticed Hadand's actions, and she learned to keep secrets very well if they needed keeping, but otherwise to just act and let people say what they would. She trusts her own ability to win people over eventually. Most of the ones with whom she's failed at that in the past weren't worth winning over in the first place. Mudface and Honeytongue come to mind.

She was a little concerned, before she asked, that inviting him to her quarters would make him uncomfortable, but oh, to break bread with someone she trusts again would be wonderful. And Hadand needs to sing the traditional songs of her people. She didn't even get to stay long enough to sing farewell to Kialen, Aunt Ndara, Captain Sindan, or the king. Aldren too, because however much she disliked him and didn't regret his death, she never wanted him murdered either. Hadand doesn't know if she could have managed any words for the royal shield arm though. She can't find it in her to disagree with his death.

"My quarters, then. I never use replicator rations, so I have more than enough for our meal. There's no need to spend any of yours." Hadand may be royalty, but even royalty eats simply on Iasca Leror. Chakotay is quietly observant enough that she knows he will have noticed that she eats what is offered her, and does it far more stoically than most of the Voyager's crew. This could become a Restday tradition, if he's willing. Hadand would gladly use her rations for a single meal from home each week, or even just the loaves of bread.

She smiles at the description of his people, gaze on him as intent as when she was learning the Mok'bara sequence. Hadand clearly wants to remember and understand everything he tells her. Its importance is written on her face. They sound both very like and vastly different from her own people. Ancestors and tradition are the cornerstones of her own culture, but the focus on nature is very different. "We're riders, but other than that animals have never figured heavily into our traditions, aside from as symbols of each of the noble families. My family's banner is... explaining specific creatures is difficult when we are not from the same planet." She looks up at the seabirds wheeling and calling overhead. "Night-flying birds of prey, if there are any equivalents where you come from."

"I think Marlovans were probably much more in tune with nature, though never as much as your people, before we moved into Iascan castles. Marlovans began as plains nomads, which is why we all still learn to ride." For a given definition of 'began'. The root words from which 'Marlovan' springs reference an earlier beginning. "We've never had the same appreciation for nature, but I loved our plains. It's easy to see how your people could have developed that sort of reverence for nature."

That kind of deep appreciation, in Marlovan society, is usually reserved for honor. It is confined to human actions rather than the forces at work in the world. Hadand looks forward to learning more about the beliefs and traditions that have shaped Chakotay every bit as much as she does learning about his personal history.

Very few things would make Chakotay less likely to spend time with Hadand. In this case, the Gossip Squadron would only succeed in that if their gossip made Hadand uncomfortable. He would not abide that in any way. As for himself, he won't mind in the long run. It'll be funny to see their reactions to the sudden change in who he has dinner with. Maybe he'll have to confuse them more by taking one every so often with Kathryn, as is their custom. He wouldn't want to completely cut her off, after all. She needs him, as a friend more than anything else. He is her confidant in a way that the Vulcan Tuvok never could be.

Chakotay may or may not feel a wave of petty glee at that thought.

He raises his eyebrows at her admission. "Either you are more accustomed to leola root than we are or you are a very kind and brave soul," he tells her with a hint of teasing. If it's the former, then he is quite impressed. Must be something that's easier if you grow up with it. The only person on board who likes it is Neelix but he's the one who introduced them to it. Maybe Naomi Wildman, but she was born on Voyager, so she has more or less grown up with it. No one else aboard can stand the taste for long. They bear Neelix's leola root stew because they have to in order to conserve Voyager's power supply.

"Owls. Sometime I'll have to show you." He has to show her a lot, he's beginning to realize. Birds, other animals, plenty of things this crew takes for granted. That's all right, though; he will welcome the chance to learn from her and teach her anything he can. That's part of why he's been spending so much time with her. The other part is because she is a very interesting person. Getting to know her has been an adventure.

"It wasn't developed," he corrects quietly, deciding just to go for it. This will answer a lot of unasked questions about him and will set the stage for his place in Voyager's history. "My people have always lived like that, even before we migrated to the colony we're on now. Back when we still lived on Earth, my people were persecuted, hunted down, forced to move. Still, we kept our way of life. Even when we decided to leave Earth, long before I was born, my people kept their traditions and beliefs. Everything we do dates back centuries. It is a part of who we are, a part... I have only recently come to understand and accept."

It's a huge admission. Chakotay doesn't share his past with just anyone, as he knows doing so will bring up unpleasant questions, explanations that have no easy answer. For Hadand, though, he will give this so she might better understand him.

"No, just more accustomed to not eating very varied meals, and perhaps to a society in which open complaints were frowned upon." Hadand replies with a laugh. She certainly doesn't enjoy the leola root, which is a small part of why she's so very much looking forward to tonight's meal. "I can't wait for good bread," she murmurs fervently. Sweet, dark, nutty bread, and well-cooked greens, and any number of other things. It will, to be perfectly honest, seem like an absolute feast after overexposure to Neelix's cooking.

Hadand nods. The list of things he plans to show her keeps growing. Rather selfishly, she finds she likes the notion of that. The promise of more time spent with Chakotay. Animals similar to the ones from home would be welcome sights, if not quite as immediately heartening as today's castle. Hadand can hear the ocean now, a dull soft roar reminiscent of a river but more interrupted and rhythmic.

Her brow furrowed, Hadand thinks for a moment about what it must have cost the Iascans, to make the decisions they did in the face of a Marlovan invasion. She knows the historical portrayals, of course, all the songs of honor and glory, and she knows that things were never so simple. Hadand is a Marlovan who grew up in Iascan castles, speaking both languages. She is the product of both cultures, but neither of them decided to merge unprompted. The Marlovans had force on their side, and the Iascans had enough forethought to preserve what they could of their way of life without excessive loss of life. She stays silent a moment.

Hadand doesn't like the comparison she has now drawn in her head between her own people and those who forced Chakotay's ancestors from their lands. But she respects him too much to keep the comparison to herself, to hide it. Hadand is sick to death of secrets. "I never considered," she admits softly, "just what the reality would have been, had the Iascans not been willing to compromise their way of life at least a little. They were clever. They knew that their best chance for survival was to allow the invaders to come. They intermarried with the Marlovans. We moved into their castles, adopted their language." Both the Iascans and the Marlovans were changed by the decision, shaped for all the generations to come.

"I am a Marlovan princess." The distinction is an important one, both in terms of knowing how Hadand sees herself and in knowing why the story of her own people bothers her when laid alongside his. "Everything I did, everything I learned, as a fighter and defender of my home was Marlovan tradition. My whole role and purpose within the country was Marlovan, and when I sing tonight, that's the language I'll be singing in. But I grew up in an Iascan castle, speaking both languages." Hadand is, in fact, speaking Iascan right now, though the translators take that nuance out of her speech while simultaneously allowing her to convey her meaning at all. "Everything I read and wrote was in Iascan, except for imported texts from Sartor. Your people... they clung more tenaciously to their identity. They suffered for it, losing homes and lives rather than traditions and beliefs." Both losses are significant. Chakotay's people and the Iascans chose differently, but both sacrificed something in the choosing. They were offered no other option.

She doesn't reach out for Chakotay, not wanting to cross a boundary between them that has yet to be breached. But Hadand watches him with sympathy in her eyes. "I want to hear about your traditions, however newly you come to them." She can hear in his voice that they're important to Chakotay now. Hadand would never wish to hold him to guilt over straying from the path of his ancestors.

Chakotay falls silent for a time, letting her words settle between them as he considers what she's just said. True, to some it might seem that both situations were the same, but he could see the differences. Where the Marlovans had allowed the Iascans to intermarry and still exist in some form, the conquerors who pushed his people out time and again had not. It was all or nothing for his people. In an effort to get her to better understand that, he draws upon his gift of storytelling, another piece passed down from his ancestors.

"On the great plains of Earth, there once existed a group of animals called cheetahs," he begins slowly, turning to face her once they've stopped along the shore of the ocean they could hear. The water crashes against the rocky edges, spraying any who dare go closer. Somehow it seems fitting for this. "They were predators, yes, but not particularly strong. They only took what prey they needed to survive and would not wander beyond their lands. Content with their lives and happy to worship and live as their ancestors did, the cheetahs existed peacefully for many, many years. One day, a pride of lions arrived. These lions were large and very strong. They had larger teeth and a roar that echoed across the entire plains. When they killed, they did so for sport more than food and they quickly scared away all of the cheetahs' food supply. But more than that, they promised peace to the the cheetahs, a peace that was never to come. Over and over the lions betrayed the cheetahs. Again and again the lions forced the cheetahs from their ancestral lands, claiming that territory for their own. Those who resisted were killed. The last time this happened, the cheetahs decided to stand and fight against the lions. Their losses have been numerous, but they are unwilling to sacrifice their connection to this land."

There's more he could say, but it's delving into a personal discussion, one he'll have to start from the very beginning. And not with a story. Explaining about the Cardassians and the Maquis will take a lot more time. Instead, he focuses on the similarities and differences between her people and his.

"Somehow, I don't think your ancestors did to the Iascans what the conquerors did to my people," he finishes quietly. "Your people allowed the Iascans to mix. The two cultures rose as one. That option was never given to my people, whether we would have accepted or not." And who knew if they really would have accepted? It's hard to say, even now. This latest conflict would be met with a resounding no, though. The Cardassians would never have opted for a blending of cultures and none of the people involved would have accepted it, not after what the Cardassians had done. Not after the Bajoran Occupation.

He turns a little more to face her, his head tilted so she can see the marking on his face. "My people wear this tattoo as a symbol of our tribe, our connection to the Sky Spirits, who are genetically bonded with us. It's an outward sign of my people." It's something he treasures now that he doesn't have his father's wisdom and guidance in life. To Chakotay, the tattoo makes him feel as though he can uphold his father's values and perhaps earn back the love and respect he had so carelessly thrown away. It also means that there are no other members of his tribe aboard Voyager. In that sense, he is alone.

"There's a lot about Voyager that you don't yet know, a lot that I should tell you if you are to understand us. More than that, though... I want to tell you, if you'd care to listen." He wants her to know because he has come to care about her in a very personal way. The difficulty is figuring out how and getting her to understand why he did what he did, what the Maquis stood for, and how bad their lives would have been under Cardassian rule. He doesn't know how she'll take it and that has him a little nervous. It was easier with Kathryn; at least they always knew the other's stance in this conflict.

Hadand trusts Chakotay not to hold her personally accountable for the actions of her people. She does, but a part of her is still braced for him to take this poorly. Not to outright condemn her, both because it would be out of character for him and because she could very convincingly argue the point. Hadand fears instead that it will create a distance between them that has never been there before.

When Chakotay replies with a story rather than an immediately obvious answer, she holds her breath and listens carefully. Hadand looks for the meaning in it, waiting with far less patience than she appears to have. It's true that there are differences in the situations, but those do not negate the parallels Hadand has already pointed out. The betrayals and conflict in her own people's history have never been Marlovan against Iascan but among the Marlovans themselves. The Montredavan-An family comes to mind, rulers until they were deposed by the Montrei-Vayirs. That Chakotay's story focuses on differences rather than similarities fills Hadand with relief in spite of the rush of sympathy for his people. She underestimated Chakotay.

Or perhaps not so much Chakotay as the bond between them. Their friendship is still new. Hadand admits now that she has been viewing it as a far more fragile thing than it truly is. She fears for it because it is so new and because she values it so highly. There is strength there. He clearly reciprocates the regard in which she holds him. It didn't break at this first test, and she would be doing both Chakotay and herself a disservice to believe it will at the next.

"I don't think it was ever intended to be an option," Hadand muses. "I think a large part of it it happened gradually, managed so carefully that the Marlovans didn't realize how much of Iascan culture they were allowing themselves to adopt. I think the Iascans tricked the ones who would have protested." She smiles at that. Hadand can appreciate secret movements for the good of a people, even if those movements were against her own ancestors. After all, some Iascans number among her ancestors as well. That's what they accomplished with their efforts. Never Iascan rulers, but rulers with Iascan words on their lips and at least a few drops of Iascan blood running through their veins.

Hadand has wondered about the tattoo, and knowing it identifies his people leads her to the obvious conclusion. He is the only one of his people aboard the Voyager, just as Hadand is. It suddenly seems like a much greater honor to learn about the traditions of his people, knowing that those traditions are Chakotay's alone among the crew. "Would you tell me about the Sky Spirits later?" she asks.

If she'd care to listen has never been in question for even a second. "Of course. I want to hear it." The way he very clearly expresses a desire to tell her rather than simply a willingness is an important distinction, and it warms Hadand. "About the ship, the crew, or your history and traditions." Chakotay's specifically, as well as those of his people as a whole. "I'll listen to anything you want to share."

Chakotay nods once at her question. Of course he would be happy to tell her all about the Sky Spirits when they have a chance. Hadand can know; Chakotay wouldn't mind divulging more about his people to her. It's the larger and more personal story that has him a little uncertain on where to begin. There's so much to tell her, so much that he needs to go over, and the subject matter itself won't be the easiest for Hadand to swallow.

"I'll tell you all about the Sky Spirits another time," he agrees, the smile slowly sliding off his face as he watches her reaction. "As for the other tale... it won't be nearly as pleasant." That's about all the warning he can really give. Shifting his weight a little, he reaches up to the collar of his uniform and unpins the bar signifying his rank. He turns it around and then offers it to Hadand so she can examine it while he speaks.

"I'm sure you've noticed by now the differences between some of the crew's rank insignia, especially mine and Captain Janeway's," he begins, his eyes on the symbol of his rank in Starfleet. "Starfleet ranks are usually shown with the pip system used by the captain and most of the crew. They are Starfleet officers. Those like me wear a provisional rank insignia. We aren't part of Starfleet and even though we are all acting as one cohesive unit, obeying our captain and Starfleet protocols and directives, we will not forget and the Federation will not forget who we were before this."

No one would forget. There was far too much animosity and downright hatred between the two for either to ever forget. Perhaps forgiveness would come now that most of the Maquis have been killed and the ones left are either in prison or lost in the Delta Quadrant. Likely not. Likely they will still face whatever punishment Starfleet would like to bring down upon them for their stubborn refusal to agree to the treaty and leave their planets to Cardassian rule.

"A few years ago, the Federation negotiated a treaty with the Cardassians that redefined the borders between Cardassian space and Federation space. It also created a demilitarized zone between the two sections. The problems arose when certain Federation planets suddenly found themselves in Cardassian space. The Cardassians wanted them to leave and refused to take no for an answer. The Federation was forced to abandon these people who would not leave. Many of them came together to form an organization called the Maquis, as an attempt to combat the Cardassians and keep their planets safe. Cardassians are not known for their compassion. Prisoners are often treated to the worst conditions imaginable." Torture and executions. Torture by Cardassians isn't usually just physical torture, either. Cardassians are known for being terrible prison guards, as any Bajoran of the last few generations would know.

"During one encounter, my ship and crew escaped into a region of space known as the Badlands. Captain Janeway and Voyager were sent to track us down and bring us back to be held accountable for our actions by Starfleet. Instead, both of us were pulled into the Delta Quadrant. Through a long series of events, my ship was lost. Captain Janeway and I decided to merge the two crews as one. Her First Officer had been killed, so she appointed me to take his place. We both thought that having the two leaders as the top-ranking officers would do more towards helping the crews merge and accept one another than promoting another Starfleet officer. The Maquis crew members were either given the ranks they had once held in Starfleet or what would be the equivalent." He knows that opens up a variety of questions like how many of them had been Starfleet officers, whether or not Chakotay himself once was, and what had made him join the Maquis if he had been Starfleet. At this point, he is prepared to answer those as well.

"The Cardassians considered us a military threat. The Federation called us terrorists. Those of us aboard Voyager aren't expecting a warm welcome home." He certainly isn't and the small, sad sort of smile he adopts fully says as much.

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