Story Notes: Further speculation on what may befall our intrepid crew after their return home.
Acknowledgment: This one's for Seema, because it was all her idea.
PAYMENT DUE
Chakotay bent his head slightly so Admiral Necheyev could slip the
ribbon over his head. Straightening up, he held up the Christopher Pike
Medal of Valor and admired it in the flash of a hundred holocameras. He
caught Janeway's eye and grinned as she lifted her own medal in a silent
salute.
The hall erupted in thunderous applause. The 'heroes of Voyager', as the media referred to them, were immediately surrounded by well-wishers. It took twenty minutes until they could even step down off the stage, and another half hour until they were able to reach the exit. Fortunately, by that time the corridor outside was relatively deserted.
"Whew!" said Janeway in relief. "Am I glad that's finally over."
"Oh, come on," said Chakotay with a grin. "Admit it. You've been enjoying all the fuss since our return."
"Fuss is right," she retorted. "Banquets, parades, speeches...it's nice to be appreciated, but enough already." She slipped her hand in his. "The best reward of all is the knowledge that we accomplished our goal--we got our crew and ship home safely."
He studied her carefully. "Is that really the best thing about our being back?"
She smiled. "Well, there's also the minor detail that I no longer have to worry about protocol and can let a certain former first officer know exactly how I feel about him."
"My thoughts exactly." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
"Ahem."
They looked up to see two security officers standing in front of them. "Yes? Is there something you wanted, Lieutenants?" asked Janeway.
The taller guard shuffled his feet nervously. "Uh, Commander Chakotay, will you come with us to Headquarters please?"
"Excuse me?" Chakotay wasn't sure he'd heard right.
Janeway immediately snapped back into command mode. "What exactly is this all about?"
"Commander Chakotay, you are requested to accompany us to HQ immediately and there you will be notified of your charges."
"Charges?"
"This is an outrage!" stormed Janeway. "Commander Chakotay, along with the rest of the Maquis, was granted a full and unequivocal pardon by Starfleet Command, even before our return to the Alpha Quadrant. They just gave him a medal, for crying out loud! What the hell is going on here?"
"Sorry, Captain," the short lieutenant said apologetically. "We have our orders."
Chakotay put a restraining hand on Janeway's arm. "Relax. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. I'll go with them now and try to clear this up." His eyes pleaded with her not to make a scene.
She stood there for a moment longer, unwavering, and then gave in. "All right. I'll head back to our apartment. But if they don't release you within the hour, I can promise you heads will roll." Chakotay noticed that the captain's patented 'death glare' hadn't lost anything through the years in the Delta Quadrant.
Both guards flinched. Obviously, they had heard stories about the famous Captain Janeway and the lengths she'd go to protect her crew
"I'll see you soon," Chakotay said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, as the guards led him away.
To Chakotay's surprise, the guards did not turn into the Security complex once they reached HQ. Instead they brought him down several levels and along a musty corridor until they reached a plain and unimposing door in the basement. The sign on the outside read "General Accounting Office."
The tall guard answered his unspoken question. "In there, sir."
Chakotay knocked. A raspy voice answered, "Come in."
Chakotay entered a small windowless room. Everything was gray--the walls, the floor, the sparse furnishings, even the fussy little old man sitting behind the large desk. On its pristine surface were arranged several precise stacks of padds.
The man gave him a baleful glance. "Commander Chakotay?"
"Yes. And you are?"
"Herbert Dudley Pratt," he said, carefully enunciating each syllable, "Certified public accountant, in charge of Starfleet Expenditures and Accounts."
Chakotay nodded impatiently. "Mr. Pratt, may I ask why I'm here?"
Pratt sniffed. Chakotay noticed a pair of gold-framed spectacles perched on the end of his nose. "You may." The accountant picked up a padd from the neat pile on his left and began to read aloud. "Commander Chakotay, late of the U.S. S. Voyager, you are hereby charged with reckless operation of Starfleet equipment and misuse of materials, resulting in the wanton destruction of Federation property."
"Wanton destruction of Federation--"
"In the form of eight Starfleet Class II shuttles."
Eight? That couldn't be right. "Hold on. There is no way I am responsible for the loss of that number of shuttles. To begin with, Voyager didn't even have that many."
"Are you disputing my figures, Commander?" Pratt waved the padd threateningly.
"No, of course not," Chakotay said hurriedly. "It's just that the original Voyager complement was only four shuttles."
"Your engineering staff managed, on an ongoing basis, to build new craft from materials scavenged from previous crashes." Pratt paused. "We've taken that into consideration and made a slight adjustment to the final figures. Technically speaking, you were really responsible for the loss of 10.4 shuttles."
Chakotay felt sweat begin to bead on his forehead. "I wasn't the only officer who ever crashed a shuttle," he blurted. He knew it was cowardly to try to shift the blame, but in an emergency it was every man for himself. Surely Tom would understand.
"Oh, we will be speaking to Lieutenant Paris, you may be sure." Pratt gave him a cold smile. "As well as Ensign Kim for the misuse of medical equipment and excessive expenditures of life-saving measures. Bringing people back from the dead doesn't come cheap, you know." The accountant cleared his throat. "But we are discussing your particulars at the moment. Eight shuttles, at 120 million per. All told, the total bill--"
"Bill?" said Chakotay incredulously.
"--comes out to 960 million credits," finished Pratt. "Will that be cash or credit?"
"Cash or credit?"
"Really, Commander," said Pratt with another sniff. "How do you intend to pay?"
How indeed? Chakotay tried to recall the balance in his Starfleet account.
But unless salaries had gone up during recent years, there was no way his
backpay was going to cover it. He swallowed. Hopefully Kathryn Janeway's
legendary fierce devotion to her crew would extend to advancing him a loan.
FINIS