Time Frame: In the 6th year of the journey.

Thanks to m.c. moose for all of her assistance.
 

PRIME DIRECTIVE

The captain's face wore a look of grim determination, but her voice was icily calm. "Fire."

There was a moment of hesitation, a moment in which Janeway wondered if Tuvok was going to refuse to comply with her order. But it passed, and the Vulcan said, "Direct hit. Their weapons are disabled." He gave no indication of his disapproval by either his expression or inflection.

The captain could not allow herself to breathe an open sigh of relief. She considered the tactical display on the viewscreen in front of her. "All right. Let's finish this. Now."

"Captain's Log: We are currently en route to the Zemir system, home to both the Dror and Yikra, where we hope to do a little trading and replenish some basic supplies. At the moment, we are skirting an outlying asteroid field where there are extensive mining operations underway."

Janeway paused, and glanced at the crowded viewscreen. Small transports continually lifted off from the largest of the asteroids and wove their way through the smaller rock fragments, heading further into the system. Almost immediately, others took their places. From time to time, small flares, indicative of blasting, flashed briefly on the asteroid's surface.

Suddenly, a much larger flash filled the screen and the ship rocked slightly. "What was that?" exclaimed Chakotay.

"Dunno," muttered Paris, his attention fully occupied with negotiating the obstacle course ahead. "But I can promise you we're not going to run into it."

Even as he spoke, another flare went off close by and caught one of the tiny ships in its blast. As they watched, it shriveled into nothingness.

"That ship--" began Janeway.

"Completely destroyed," answered Tuvok from the tactical station.

"By whom?" demanded the captain. Just then another ship, this one much larger, wheeled directly in front of them. "Raise shields!"

An energy beam lanced out, but it was not directed at Voyager. The beam passed a few degrees to their right and enveloped another vessel. The second ship managed to get off a shot of its own before it, too, was destroyed.

"Hail them," ordered Janeway as she rose from her chair.

"Channel open."

"Zemir vessel, this is Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. Why are you firing on your own ships?"

The interior of the transport was dim, its only light a dull reddish color. The alien facing them was tall and angular, his gaunt features further emphasized by his ornate orange topknot. Other than that, his skull was completely hairless.

"We are Yikra," he emphasized the name. "And what we do is none of your concern."

"It's my concern when someone is firing weapons near my ship," Voyager's captain retorted. "And it's also my concern when I see someone engaging in inexplicable but dangerous behavior. Why are you attacking other Zemir vessels?"

The Yikran drew himself up to his full height and answered haughtily, "Those reshaim are not ours. They are Dror, and they are usurping our mining rights! We will teach them to trespass on our property!"

"It is my understanding that the Dror and Yikra share this system," Janeway said. "If you're engaged in a dispute, there are better ways of solving it than--" She stopped abruptly when the Yikran vessel closed contact and moved away.

Janeway turned toward Chakotay. "Were there any indications of ongoing hostilities in this system? The last thing we need is to get involved in someone else's war."

"The delegation we met on the Tirzah Station was made up of both Dror and Yikra," answered the first officer. "They seemed to be on friendly terms. Certainly no animosity that would lead to something like this."

Kim spoke up just then. "Captain, those Dror ships that were fired upon--"

Janeway joined him at the Ops station. "Go ahead, Ensign."

"They're automated transports. These others here," he indicated a spatial grid, "Are identical to the ones we saw destroyed. No lifesigns onboard."

"Are all the Dror ships unmanned?"

"Just the smaller transports. The others have crew compliments of between six and ten individuals."

"Have any of them been fired upon?" Janeway asked sharply.

"No, ma'am. The Yikra appear to be leaving them alone."

"Well, that's a relief," said Chakotay quietly. "At least this mining dispute hasn't escalated into the taking of innocent lives."

"No," answered the captain. "But that doesn't mean that relations between the two groups are what they should be. Or that the situation won't get any worse."

" 'Cultural contamination' includes providing technology, whether actual hardware or the theory behind it, that the society is incapable of producing on its own at that point in its development. Any military aid, of course, is out of the question." - Page 528, "The Man and His Times: The Authorized Biography of Captain James T. Kirk"

The capital city of Zemir Prime appeared to have been designed with an eye toward aesthetics as well as functionality. Its wide spacious streets were lined with buildings of a warm cream-colored stone that looked golden in the light of the binary suns. Upon beaming down, Janeway and Chakotay, with a cadre of security guards in tow, went to the Chamber of Commerce to meet with the Minister of Trade. Meanwhile, Paris and Kim headed toward the central marketplace, with an eye toward doing some trading of their own.

They'd had no further encounters with any Yikran vessels, nor had they witnessed any more instances of weapons fire. Nevertheless, Voyager was on alert mode and constantly scanning the system for any aggressive moves by either the Yikra or Dror.

"There it is," Kim said, and pointed. A low barricade closed the street to all but pedestrian traffic. It was difficult to imagine that any vehicle would even attempt to penetrate the mass of people and booths directly ahead.

They made their way slowly through the crowd, which was equal parts Dror and Yikra. The only clear distinction between the two species appeared to be the color of their topknots, and a faint band of spots across the Dror forehead. Everywhere people of all ages were shouting, pushing and shoving. Paris grinned as they heard some of the calls.

"Come and see what garbage I have for sale! Only five taka! "

"The finest trash this side of the Geva Mountains!"

"That can't be right," Kim said and pulled out his tricorder. "I think there's something wrong with my Universal Translator."

"What's the matter, Harry? You never heard merchants hawk their wares before? Or do you think five taka is too high a price for a paring knife?"

"They're referring to their merchandise as garbage."

Paris shrugged. "A way of attracting attention, I guess. Or else there's a local ordinance about truth in advertising."

They plunged further into the marketplace, passing booths of every description selling fabrics, jewelry, food, tools and small appliances. There seemed to be no order to the arrangement, no areas where all the merchandise was of similar type. At every turn Kim hoped the crowd would start to thin out, but it never did. The noise and the glare were giving him a headache. A haze of green smoke hung in the air in front of one stall. Kim wrinkled his nose in distaste as they passed.

"Think we'll be able to find the parts B'Elanna wanted for Engineering?"

"I hope so. Got her shopping list right here," Paris said, and pulled out a padd. "Let's see, plasma flow injectors, antigrav units…I think we passed a booth selling hyperspanners a little ways back---that may be a good place to start."

Kim consulted his tricorder. "Twenty meters back and to the left---" A young boy, Dror by his blue topknot, darted forward, yanked the instrument out of Kim's hand and disappeared into the crowd. "Hey! Give that back!"

Paris scanned the crowd quickly. "This way." They turned in pursuit of the boy.

Half an hour later, they'd had no luck in locating either the child or Kim's missing tricorder, and in fact had passed beyond the boundaries of the marketplace altogether. Paris looked around carefully. The streets were narrower here, the buildings shabby and closer together. Several of them had broken or boarded up windows. There was a dingy feel to the area, an impression reinforced by the garbage scattered everywhere. "Give it up, Harry. I don't think we're going to find anything here."

"Just a little longer," insisted Kim. He turned down a narrow alley.

Paris sighed, and moved to catch up with his friend. "Come on, Harry. It's just a tricorder. The captain isn't going to bust you in rank for losing it."

"It's a piece of technology," Kim answered. "We can't just leave it here on the planet."

"I'm sure the natives have something comparable," Paris said reasonably. "It's not like you're violating the Prime Directive."

"Still…" began Kim, as they emerged from the alley into a large open field. He came to a sudden halt. Paris halted as well, to avoid bumping into him, and then realized why Kim had stopped. He drew a quick intake of breath, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach.

Kim tapped his comm badge. "Kim to Captain Janeway."

"The Prime Directive shall supersede any other General Orders." -Codicil 36 beta, paragraph four, Manual of Operating Procedure, Starfleet Command, Seventeenth Edition

It felt like they had been standing there for hours, but in reality it was less than twenty minutes before Janeway, Chakotay and the security detail joined them. To his surprise, Kim saw Neelix and the Doctor in the group as well. They hadn't been part of the original away team; the captain must have ordered them to beam down later.

A primitive barbed wire fence was stretched in front of them, obviously meant to keep something, or someone, confined. Beyond the fence they caught glimpses of figures that moved slowly---when they moved at all.

The captain scanned the fence with her eyes, as if searching for gaps. There were none. She beckoned to Ensign Mazula, one of the security guards, and nodded. He pulled out his phaser and fired at the fence. "Thank you, Ensign," Janeway said, and bending down, led the way through the newly created opening. They went single file, with Mazula bringing up the rear, his phaser still in his hand.

Janeway waited until the rest of the landing party had finished crawling through the fence and straightened up. "What do you make of this?" she said softly.

"It appears to be a refugee camp," Neelix said. "Or a holding area."

Chakotay nodded shortly. "It reminds me of similar places constructed by the Cardassians. Any prisoners or other 'undesirables' were rounded up and put in detention centers like this."

A troubled expression was on the captain's face as she surveyed the ragged tents, and the filthy, emaciated people living in them in utter squalor. No one challenged them or impeded their progress in any way. Indeed, none of the inhabitants even seemed to be aware of the Voyager crew's presence; their sunken eyes appeared to register nothing. They were all Dror, and all were obviously quite ill and weak. Many of them were covered with large oozing sores.

An open sewer ran the length of the main "street", its brown surface coated with an oily residue. The stench was horrific, no doubt abetted by the unburied bodies lying haphazardly in the dirt. A pack of mangy canine-like animals roamed the area, scavengers feeding on the corpses. Even as they watched, one broke away from the pack and attacked an old man. He fell immediately, too sick and weak to defend himself.

With a cry, Neelix sprang forward even as Mazula fired at the animal. "Get out of here, you disgusting creature!" The predator yelped and slunk off. Neelix didn't spare it another glance, but rushed to the fallen man, the Doctor at his heels.

After a moment, the EMH rose and shook his head. "He's dead." He slowly turned in a circle, aiming his medical tricorder. "All of these people are either dead or dying."

"The cause?"

The Doctor snapped his tricorder shut. "A virus. It appears to be an artificial construct." He answered Janeway's unspoken question. "I can confirm my findings aboard Voyager, but there's no doubt these people were deliberate victims."

"The issue of whether the Prime Directive applies only to pre-warp societies is open to debate. A strict interpretation would suggest this; however, it is generally accepted that the non-interference clause extends to societies whose technological development is comparable to our own." - Page 742, "Basic Federation Law", Twenty sixth edition

At first the meeting of the senior staff seemed like any of a hundred other such briefings, as the various department heads made their reports. Then the subject of the Zemir trade negotiations was broached.

"We've arranged to pick up two metric tons each of dilithium, gallicite and ladarium," reported Torres. "That'll go a long way toward keeping the warp engines running."

"And we've got enough foodstuffs, both fresh and preserved, to last us sixty days," Neelix said.

"That is fortunate," commented Seven, "As this system contains the only class M planets within several hundred light years."

Janeway said, "Fortunate or not, we've been in orbit around Zemir Prime for almost a week--long enough to nearly conclude our trade mission, and also to make some disturbing discoveries." She rose and began moving about the room. "Toward the end of our initial meeting with the Zemir authorities, I brought up the 'incident' that occurred in the asteroid field. I volunteered to mediate any dispute between the Yikran and Dror mining factions."

"Did they take you up on your offer?" asked Paris.

Janeway stopped and gave a wry smile. "The Minister, who incidentally is Yikran, denied that there was any problem. 'One of our miners getting a bit overzealous, perhaps.'" She resumed her pacing.

"That's it? What about the Dror?"

"Curiously enough, there were no official complaints received from the Dror consortium which owns the destroyed ships."

Chakotay spoke for the first time. "If it was only a mining dispute, and hadn't gone beyond property destruction…. But the situation seems to have escalated." He nodded toward the Doctor.

"I was able to confirm what I first suspected on the planet surface. The virus ravaging the camp was specifically tailored to the Dror genome." He paused, and his voice took on the droning quality he used when lecturing. "Thousands of years ago, when Zemir Prime was the only populated world in the system, the Dror and Yikra comprised a single species. With the development of space travel, they gradually split into two distinct groups, rather like the Vulcans and Romulans. Today, although they can still interbreed, there are distinct genetic markers unique to the Dror." He became aware of the captain's impatient look. "To make a long story short, the virus is designed to act exclusively on those markers."

"Leaving the Yikra population untouched."

"Exactly."

"Why would they do such a thing?" asked Neelix. "Surely Zemir society--"

"'Zemir' is just a name," interjected Chakotay. "The inhabitants of this system view themselves as either Yikra or Dror."

"But they seemed to get along so well!"

"On the surface, perhaps. But if you dig a little deeper…" Chakotay sighed. "Most of the ruling class are Yikra. Only a few token Cabinet positions are held by Dror, from among the minor Ministries. And it's not just the top government posts that the Yikra dominate, but almost the entire professional class as well. The Yikra occupy the most expensive and exclusive areas. They have a higher standard of living than the Dror, who for the most part make up the middle and lower classes. It's not overt, but I've noticed a definite discriminatory bias against the Dror, at least on Zemir Prime."

"What about the other planets?" asked Kim.

"They are predominately one group or the other. Only on Zemir Prime are Dror and Yikra found in equal numbers," answered Tuvok.

Neelix shook his head. "Maybe so, but it's still a pretty big leap to go from discrimination to genocide!"

"Perhaps not--" Janeway started, but was interrupted by the chirp of her comm badge.

"Bridge to the captain. We're receiving a transmission from the planet."

The meeting broke up rapidly. Janeway strode on to the bridge and seated herself in her chair. "Onscreen." A heavyset male Dror appeared, the darkness of his forehead spots an indication of his advanced age.

"Captain Janeway, I am L'vain, chief executive officer of Dror Omega Mining. I understand you wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes. I wanted to discuss with you the loss of two of your ore transports earlier this week in the asteroid field."

"Ah, yes." L'vain waved a hand dismissively. "I understand it was an accident. One of the autopilots experienced a navigational malfunction, causing it to crash into the other transport."

Janeway and Chakotay exchanged looks. "Excuse me, Mr. L'vain," she said, "But we witnessed the incident. That's not what happened."

The Dror appeared amused. "Are you disputing the reports of my field agents, Captain?"

"With all due respect," Janeway said carefully. "Your reports are inaccurate. The transports were fired upon by a Yikran vessel."

"Preposterous!"

"We can send you our sensor logs, if you like."

"That won't be necessary," L'vain said hurriedly. The Dror businessman appeared to lose some of his composure. He glanced quickly at something--or someone--outside of the visual pickup, and then turned back to face Janeway. His voice took on a decided edge. "Even if I accept your statement at face value, and that's a pretty big 'if', what concern is this of yours?"

"We mentioned the incident to the Minister of Trade---"

"And I'm sure he was extremely receptive to your claim," L'vain interrupted.

"He denied any aggressive acts on the part of the Yikra," Janeway admitted. "Or that any problems existed. But some other information has since come to our attention---"

L'vain cut her off again. "Look, Captain. I don't know what game you're trying to play, or what you hope to accomplish by involving yourself in our affairs. Yes, there have been some difficulties in the past between the mining factions, but the Yikra authorities do nothing in response." Almost to himself he added, "Fortunately, we Dror are not without resources of our own."

Janeway wasn't going to give up so easily. "I'd like to offer our assistance in settling---"

"We are capable of looking after ourselves, Captain." He abruptly terminated the connection.

Janeway stood gazing at the screen a moment longer. "Well, that didn't go quite as I expected."

Tuvok said, "He clearly mistrusts our motives."

"Perhaps he thinks that we're just passing through and have no real stake in what happens to them," suggested Chakotay. "Or else he's concerned that if they accept help from us now, things will get worse after we leave."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "Mr. Tuvok, I want you to run a series of detailed scans on the Zemir homeworld and the orbiting stations."

"What would you like me to look for in particular, Captain?"

"Any evidence of biogenic weapons or a laboratory in which they're being developed." She paused. "I don't think what we saw on the planet is an isolated case."

Once they knew what to look for, it was surprisingly easy to find.

Through one entire duty shift and the beginning of the next, Janeway remained on the bridge, listening to the reports coming in. Several of the space stations in orbit around the planet were confirmed to be laboratories of some kind.

"Two of the labs appear to be concerned with energy conversion processes," reported Tuvok. "Our sensors are unable to penetrate the shielding of the other structures."

"Keep scanning, Commander."

Several hours later Voyager received a hail from Chakotay, who had set out aboard the Delta Flyer to investigate the vicinity of Zemir III, a world almost exclusively inhabited by Yikra.

"We didn't find anything on or near the planet or the largest moon, Captain."

Something in his voice made all of Janeway's senses go on alert. "But?"

"We discovered a weapons arsenal on the smallest moon. Two kilometers beneath the surface. According to our sensors, there are over 500,000 conventional warheads, each capable of delivering a payload of 10 megatons. And that's not all---there are another 30,000 modified missiles." Chakotay took a deep breath. "They appear to have been designed specifically to carry biogenic weapons."

"Understood. Delta Flyer, return to Voyager immediately."

It was a grim-faced captain who turned to the two men in the briefing room. "I know what you're going to say, Tuvok. Once we receive the final shipment of ore from the Zemir surface, there's no longer any reason for us to remain in the system."

"As you have expressed it so well, Captain, I will assume there is no need for me to make any further comment," the Vulcan observed dryly.

"Unfortunately, it appears as though we still have some unfinished business here." Janeway took a padd from her desk. "This is a compilation of all the intelligence we've gathered over the last 24 hours. Information on weapons caches, Yikran and Dror ship movements…to all indications, this system is on the brink of civil war. And it's not going to be pretty."

"War of any kind never is," the first officer noted. "Have you been able to contact the Yikran officials?"

"I haven't gotten past the low-level bureaucrats," Janeway said. Some of her frustration showed. "Even the Minister of Trade is refusing all attempts to speak with him. And as for the Prime Minister…." Her voice trailed off.

"What about the Dror?"

The captain snorted. "I spoke to one of the Dror Cabinet officials yesterday evening. At the time, Minister Imbat seemed interested in our offer to set up a summit between the Dror and Yikra to discuss the current tensions."

"That's a positive development--" began Chakotay.

Janeway cut him off quickly. "However, I've since tried repeatedly to contact him, each time being told he was 'indisposed.' My guess is there is a difference of opinion among the Dror whether or not to negotiate."

"Or else they're already mobilizing their forces."

"So it would seem."

"May I remind you, Captain," said Tuvok, "Any talk of war is still conjecture at this point. The Dror and Yikra have managed to coexist peacefully for many years. Tensions are high, but there is no reason to suspect that they will deteriorate into open hostilities any time soon."

"Those people in the refugee camp aren't conjecture, Tuvok," Janeway retorted. "I saw them with my own eyes. The Doctor was quite sure that they were deliberate victims. A test, perhaps, to make sure the virus worked. It may have been an isolated case, but from the other things we've uncovered, it's a sure bet that they won't be the last."

"What I don't understand," said Chakotay thoughtfully, "Is why the Dror victims were located so close to the capital city--why not in an isolated area where no one would see?"

The captain didn't answer right away. She clearly had other matters on her mind. "Perhaps they don't care if evidence of the virus is discovered," she finally said, somewhat distractedly. "Maybe it's to teach the rest of the Dror a lesson. Or perhaps the Yikra have been preparing for an all-out campaign and at this point don't care if their plans are exposed. Regardless, the Dror won't be able to defend themselves."

Chakotay caught her arm. "What's really bothering you, Kathryn?"

She turned to face him, a haunted look in her eyes. "I'm afraid that this is going to turn into an all-out genocidal war, and the Dror are going to be massacred."

He sighed. "It's an old story--and unfortunately, one that's not unique to this quadrant." Neither of them said it aloud, but both were thinking of the Maquis and the inhabitants of the Demilitarized Zone. He looked into her eyes. "I'm not even sure what we could do, in all honesty. There's the Prime Directive to consider."

Janeway bit her lip. "The first time I had to invoke that was shortly after we arrived in the Delta Quadrant, by the Ocampa homeworld," she said quietly.

"This may not be the same situation," he said. "But back then you made a decision to protect the Ocampa from almost certain death at the hands of the Kazon."

"Your previous decision to destroy the Caretaker's array is not relevant to the matter at hand, Captain," said Tuvok. He had been silent for several minutes, and Chakotay had nearly forgotten that he was present. "This is clearly an internal matter, as the Dror and Yikra comprise one planetary system and neither party desires Voyager's involvement."

"I don't feel that it's morally right to walk away from the situation," Janeway said slowly. "Like it or not, we're already involved. We became involved when we discovered those Dror victims, no, even earlier when we witnessed what occurred in the asteroid field."

It was an old familiar story, one they'd encountered over and over again in the Delta Quadrant. Voyager's captain had a very strong sense of right and wrong, coupled with a weakness for the underdog. They had previously gotten involved in affairs that were arguably none of their business, yet Janeway always found a way to justify their actions. Chakotay recalled a few of their more prominent interventions: smuggling telepaths out of the Devore Imperium, uncovering one group's ruse of "asteroid" bombardments designed to drive another from their planet…somehow Janeway managed to skirt the Prime Directive, coming close, but never actually crossing the line.

It appeared Tuvok was thinking along the same lines. "In the past, any interventions on our part occurred in situations in which we were already directly involved. That is not the case here."

There was a stubborn look on Janeway's face, as if she wasn't ready to accept that. Chakotay said gently, "I don't realistically see how we can impose a settlement when the two parties aren't interested in talking with each other, Kathryn." He mentally ran through the other available options. Any military involvement was, of course, out of the question. But perhaps they would be able to provide some medical supplies; the Doctor might even be able to come up with an antidote for the virus. Not the best solution, perhaps, but it was better than nothing. He opened his mouth to say this, but Tuvok spoke first.

"Captain Janeway, I do not think I need to remind you of your obligation to act within the dictates of Starfleet directives. Any action on your part now may be in violation---"

"I'm aware of my obligation to Starfleet," Janeway said angrily. She headed toward the door. "If neither of you has anything further to offer, I'll be in Astrometrics."

Tuvok gazed after Janeway's retreating form. "It is not the Vulcan way to dwell on what might have been, but at this time I find myself regretting the loss of Commander Cavitt."

Chakotay stared at him, not sure at first that he had heard correctly. Cavitt had been the first officer for the mission to the Badlands and had died during Voyager's trip to the Delta Quadrant. Suddenly, he understood. "You mean that my judgment is clouded, because of my Maquis background." He bristled. "You don't trust me to give the captain an unbiased opinion."

"Commander, you misunderstand me," Tuvok said calmly. "I meant no disrespect. Indeed, I have the utmost confidence that you will not allow your personal feelings to sway you from your duty. I have never had cause to question your behavior in that respect."

"Then what are you trying to say, Tuvok?" Chakotay said impatiently.

"I was merely alluding to the fact that Commander Cavitt held a degree in Interstellar Law. He would most likely have been able to present the captain with a more compelling legal argument before she makes her final decision."

Feeling only slightly mollified, Chakotay allowed himself a brief smile. "Tell me, Tuvok, how long have you known the captain?"

"Almost twelve years, since her first command."

"Then you should know that she's not going to be swayed by any legal arguments, no matter how cleverly they're presented," said Chakotay. "Ultimately, Kathryn Janeway will decide with her heart, and not her head."

"The Prime Directive shall be strictly adhered to, even during the exigencies of war." - Codicil 48 alpha, paragraph six, Manual of Operating Procedure, Starfleet Command, Seventeenth Edition

The door signal to his quarters chimed. Chakotay glanced at the chronometer, and then laid aside his book. "Come in." Somehow he wasn't surprised when he saw who his visitor was.

"I know it's rather late," the captain said somewhat apologetically. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all. Have a seat."

"Thank you." Janeway stood a moment longer, and then sat down with a sigh. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here."

"It is a bit late for a social call," Chakotay agreed. He had a pretty good idea of what this was about, but he knew that the captain would get to it in her own way.

Sure enough, after a few moments of silence, Janeway said, "I've come to a decision."

"Yes?"

"It's obvious that war is imminent between the Dror and Yikra." She briefly allowed her exasperation to show. "That is, to everyone but my Chief of Security who refuses to draw the logical conclusion from his own sensor logs!" She caught herself. "But that's beside the point."

"I don't think so, Captain." He raised his voice a bit to keep her from interrupting. "Tuvok doesn't deny the validity of the reports. He just doesn't think that it's our place to intervene."

"And what do you think, Commander?"

He hesitated. "It's not my place to decide our course of action."

"No, it's not. The responsibility is mine."

"All part of being the captain. I don't envy you. It's a tough call."

She nodded, and he became aware of the tight lines around her mouth, the tension in the set of her shoulders. "I've been going over and over this, and I finally realized that there is only one decision I can possibly make."

He waited. Finally she looked him full in the eye. "We're going to destroy the Yikra weapons arsenals on Zemir III."

Chakotay looked at her in surprise. "There's got to be another way--"

"There isn't. Right now the Yikra have a tremendous advantage over the Dror in terms of armaments and ships. We can't do much about that short of a full-scale intervention, but we can still help even the odds a bit. As for those modified warheads…well, if the Yikra don't have any method of widespread deployment, maybe we can prevent them from using their biogenic weapons. We can at least give the Dror a fighting chance at survival."

Any intervention, even as limited as what the captain had just outlined, was still crossing Starfleet's most cherished line. "You realize what you're proposing is in direct violation of the Prime Directive."

"Maybe not," she said, but didn't meet his eyes. "I've spent the last several hours looking up precedents."

"Find anything useful?"

She gave a small bitter smile. "One case. The U.S.S. Enterprise under Captain Kirk once encountered a primitive planet whose inhabitants were divided into two rival factions."

Chakotay snorted. "Kirk wasn't exactly a poster boy for the Prime Directive."

"He was cleared by every Review Board he ever faced," Janeway countered. "At any rate, Kirk discovered that the Klingons were providing one group on the planet with firearms."

"Which they then proceeded to use against their enemies."

"Correct. Kirk's solution was to provide the other side with similar weapons as part of an effort to maintain the balance of power."

Chakotay shook his head. "But it didn't solve anything, did it? Then the first group came up with an advancement, or found some other way to break the stalemate…"

"I never said it was a perfect solution."

"And Kirk didn't fight any battles on behalf of the natives, did he?"

"No, he didn't." She scrubbed her hand over her face tiredly. "I'm aware that there isn't any similar gray area in our situation--this is the classic textbook case of where we're supposed to say 'A pox on both your houses' and back off."

"This actually was a textbook case," he said, still trying to take in the full implications of the captain's decision. "The circumstances are almost identical to one of the training simulations I had in Command School."

"That's right, you went through Command School a few years after I did; I'm sure most of the simulations were still the same." She laughed shortly. "Two competing groups, hell-bent on mutual destruction, refusing outside mediation. We were just supposed to walk away and leave them to it. This is exactly the same situation--only the names have been changed, but not to protect the innocent."

He watched as she rose and went to the viewport, stood staring at the planet turning serenely below. He knew that there was more to the story. After a while, she turned and fixed him with her piercing gaze. "One of my closest friends dropped out of the training program thanks to that simulation. He couldn't comprehend how Starfleet could condone genocide, because that's what it would have come down to. And I---" she grimaced. "At the time, I believed that Starfleet always knew best. I couldn't understand how he could disagree with their views." Her voice dropped even lower so he had to strain to catch her words. "But I do now."

"Why did you come to me tonight, Captain? Were you hoping I'd talk you out of it?"

"I don't think that would've been possible." She hesitated a moment. "I guess I just wanted to know if you would support me on this."

Her request struck him as odd. "I'm your first officer. It's my job to back the captain." Suddenly he realized what she was after. "You're doing the right thing, Kathryn. The moral thing."

"Thank you." She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but turned to go instead.

When she was nearly at the door he said, "What about Tuvok? What did he say when you told him what you intend to do?"

She halted, but didn't turn around. "I'm going to speak with him now."

"When faced with a choice between saving lives, even those of his crew, or violating the Prime Directive, a commander must obey the Directive." - Code of Command, chapter 4, paragraph 7, Starfleet Training Manual

The atmosphere on the bridge was tense. Janeway had come on duty at the start of the shift with that look in her eye, the one that announced to the world that she was prepared to do battle for what she believed in. There wasn't even a murmur as she told Paris to break orbit, and head for Zemir III.

"Aye, captain." They all were aware of the significance of their destination. Even if they hadn't been, all uncertainty vanished when the captain went on shipwide speakers and in terse language, told them what they were about to do.

Chakotay could sense the emotions of the officers around them. The sense of righteousness was almost palpable. News about the Dror treatment at the hands of the Yikra, about the artificial virus, about the massacre that was waiting to happen--there were no secrets aboard a starship. They were going to save lives. Wasn't that what they'd always been told Starfleet was about? Oh, the Prime Directive? Only a cold-hearted monster could step back and let a holocaust occur when it was in their power to prevent it! And Captain Janeway was anything but that.

"A surgical strike." That was how the captain described it to the crew. They were going to go in, destroy the warheads and then get out. Pure and simple.

Tuvok hadn't said anything either, Chakotay realized. The Vulcan had probably stated his objections in private earlier. That was why the captain had gone to him the night before. She wasn't looking for her Security Chief's approval any more than she had her first officer's. But she needed to know her bridge officers were behind her at the crucial moment.

His reverie was broken when Kim announced, "I'm reading multiple warp signatures up ahead."

Tuvok confirmed, "There are three Yikra warships."

"Position?"

"Directly between us and the moons of Zemir III."

Oh, God, we're going to have to go through them. The thought had obviously occurred to the captain as well.

"Hail the lead vessel."

"No response."

"Yikran vessel, this is Captain Janeway of Voyager. Move aside or we will be forced to open fire." She waited.

"Still no response, Captain."

"Then I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way," Janeway said. "Target their weapons system." There was a look of grim determination on her face but her voice was icily calm. "Fire."

"Direct hit. Their weapons are disabled," Tuvok said. He gave no indication of his disapproval by either his expression or inflection.

The captain considered the tactical display on the viewscreen in front of her. "All right. Let's finish this. Now."

In the end, Voyager had been forced to disable a number of Yikran warships before destroying the weapons arsenal. They had departed the system yesterday, leaving an uneasy peace in their wake. Chakotay watched Tuvok call another crewman to relieve him at Tactical, then head toward the captain's Ready Room. The door closed behind him.

They were in there a long time. Periodically, the first officer would glance over in that direction. He could imagine what was being said.

Finally the door opened and Tuvok emerged. His face gave nothing away. He bypassed his station and headed straight for the turbolift.

Chakotay stood, hastily said, "You have the con, Mr. Paris," and dashed into the 'lift just as the doors were sliding closed.

"Deck 12." Tuvok turned to Chakotay. "Your destination, Commander?"

"I was thinking of going to the Mess Hall." Chakotay hesitated. "Tuvok, is everything all right?"

"You are referring to my meeting with Captain Janeway."

"Yes." He felt compelled to add, "Part of my purview as first officer is to handle personnel problems."

"There is no problem between myself and the captain."

"I'm glad to hear that, Tuvok." The silence stretched between them like an almost physical presence.

Suddenly, Tuvok spoke. "The captain wished to explain her motivations once more."

"Are you surprised?"

"Yes, Commander, I am. The captain made a command decision. I had previously made my misgivings known as to the correctness of her actions."

"Yet you went along with them."

"She is the captain." Tuvok paused and then said, "The night before the attack, Captain Janeway apprised me of her intentions. I questioned her then, and pointed out that this course of action would have been unheard of were we in the Alpha Quadrant, that she herself would have found it incomprehensible not too long ago."

"What did she say to that?"

"She answered, 'I know I've changed a lot by being out here. Seven years ago I never would have contemplated something like this. But now I see that things are no longer simply black and white.'"

"Was that all?"

"No. She further said, ' I like to think that there is a reason we were flung here, so far from home, maybe for the rest of our lives--some good should come out of it.' " The Vulcan's face was impassive, as always, yet his voice carried a faint trace of emotion, so faint that Chakotay could not be sure it was not a product of his imagination. "I fail to see why the captain requires my approval, particularly after the event is concluded."

"She's not looking for your approval, Tuvok, or your forgiveness," Chakotay tried to explain. "What she wants is for you to understand why she felt compelled to act the way she did."

The 'lift came to a halt. Tuvok took a step forward, then looked at Chakotay and said, "The captain will have a great deal to answer for to Starfleet Command, upon our return to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Yes, Tuvok, she will," answered the first officer. "But she will get us home."

 Back to Rocky's Road

 e-mail the author