CHAPTER FIVE

Grey dawn had broken over the hills in the distance as Chakotay, Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore were beamed down in a vacant lot behind a derelict building in the city of Dublin. Chakotay had studied the maps of the period and figured they could make good time if they were transported to the outskirts of town and worked their way from there to the inner city. They were blind from that point on.

"We have a whole city to scour," he told Magnus and Marla. "I think we should split up and whoever finds the first trail, hail the others. Make sure your commbadges remain unseen. They have to be in the city..." He paused. "On second thought, Marla, I think you and Magnus should stick together." They nodded, grasping the wisdom of Marla not walking around a strange city alone.

They parted ways and Chakotay started working systematically, checking the inns first. He couldn't show them any pictures of Kathleen O'Clair and Thomas Kiernan because he had none.

"They would be traveling together. The last names Kiernan and O'Clair," he told the innkeeper at one of the seedier places.

"No, none what have booked in the last few hours, mister." The man wore a dirty, sweaty, faded pink undershirt with broad braces that held up a too wide pair of trousers. He had a stubble and a pipe clenched between his teeth as he spoke. There was dankness in the foyer, of stale wine and stale smoke.

"Thank you," he said and left in haste, mostly to escape the smell.

At the fifth inn his patience was wearing thin.

"Say, mister, you are mighty tanned for an Irishman. Where have you been?"

"Africa."

"Is that a fact?"

"What's it to you?"

"Them Africans look none like you."

"Well then, maybe you haven't seen them all."

"If you say so, mister. What can I do you for?"

"I am looking for two young people - man and woman - who may have signed in here in the last twenty four hours. Do you know of them? The names are Kiernan and O'Clair..."

The innkeeper took his pipe out of his mouth and his eyes narrowed till they almost closed.

"Are they gentlemen and lady folk?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well dressed. They stand out here...high and mighty like they own the place like."

"I...wouldn't know."

"But you be looking for them. How can't you know?"

"I guess then they might be gentleman and lady..."

"Mister, I can't help you. Say, you keen on a job in the breweries? Heard they are looking for able-bodied men. Or the docks. Big men, like you, mister."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Chakotay walked out the damp smelling foyer, wondering if two well-dressed individuals would actually stay in such a derelict inn. It might be perfect camouflage...or not. If they wanted to hide, they could be anywhere. Behind the inn he found a secluded spot. He looked around furtively to make sure there were no people walking around. Quickly he tapped his commbadge.

"Chakotay to Rollins." He waited a few seconds and realised Rollins and Marla had probably done the same thing, making sure they were out of sight of curious onlookers.

"Rollins here."

"Anything?"

"We're running a blank here, Commander, but we're continuing. We're in the area of the docks - "

"The docks?"

"We figured that they'd have to make their way here if they are still traveling together. We established that the first ship to carry passengers across to Liverpool is still docked and due to leave in an hour."

"Then we have little time. I'll have to use my tricorder for DNA scans. There might be something. It's a long shot."

There was silence at the other end, then the crackling sound of the badge again.

"We haven't thought of that, have we?"

"As I said, it's worth a try. I'll keep on looking. We don't have much time. Chakotay out."

It's funny, Chakotay thought, as he flicked on his tricorder and brought up data on Kathryn's DNA, scanning for a possible match. He had not given himself time to think it through, but all they needed was the data of Kathryn's genetic markers. They didn't need samples, just data of tests done a month ago. The lights flickered hesitantly, then sharpened and once a short beep sounded, he noticed there were three near matches. And the nearest match was not a hundred metres away.

He felt the adrenaline pumping as he hastened in that direction. The sun was already out and people were milling about, many on their way to work, he surmised. Maybe he was in the wrong part of town, but he didn't see anything near resembling 'gentlemen and lady folk-like', and most were dressed like he was. He grinned inwardly. At least he'd gotten the clothing right and blended in, sort of. On Voyager he never had to deal with the kind of questions he was faced with here. His tanned appearance made him a curiosity, but it was too late to do anything about it, except to lie convincingly and without exposing himself. So he settled for Africa if they assumed that he was from there. They also assumed he could be working in the breweries or at the docks. He didn't want to run too fast and attract undue attention.

He entered the foyer and saw the innkeeper at the desk. Another inward smile. All the desk staff were male. This one was grey-haired, had a massive paunch and belched before he saw Chakotay.

"You're new to these parts. What can I do you for, mister?" he asked. By now he was used to their syntax, which sounded odd.

"I need some information. If you can help. I'm looking for two young people - perhaps in their twenties - who may have signed in here."

"And what's it to you?"

"If I tell you I'm the girl's father and I'll wallop her good for running away from home, what's that to you?"

He didn't want to be unkind or irritable as the innkeeper wasn't all that unfriendly. He thought how different real life was to some of their holodeck programs, where he was always so much aware that the characters could be manipulated with their response and dialogue parameters. This innkeeper was different from the others who had been miserable and dour. The old man glanced at the staircase and Chakotay's heart hammered. He was finally on to something. Did his neck hair stand on end? It felt like a whiff of ghost's breath. The innkeeper made a guttural sound.

"Mister, a young man and young lady came in here very early this morning, before light even. They checked into separate rooms..."

Young man and lady...gentleman and lady, like the others told him.

"And?"

"They left again."

"What?"

"Only a few minutes ago. Their cart is still in the stable. They used other transport."

"What were their names?" Chakotay asked.

The man opened the book, licked his finger and paged to the last entry. He pointed with a finger.

"Ah...here... Miss O'Clair and Mister Kiernan."

Chakotay closed his eyes briefly and almost acted on his impulse to pull the old man closer and kiss him.

"Take me to the girl's room," he commanded, as a thought struck him. The old man raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Lifting the flap, he moved from behind the counter and led him up the stairs to the first floor. At the second door down the hall he stopped, took the enormous bunch of keys hanging by his waist and after fumbling to get the right key, eventually managed to open the door. Chakotay looked at him. "That will be all. You can go..."

He waited for the old man to leave and when he heard the footsteps on the stairs, Chakotay quickly looked about the room. Something peeped from under a pillow, something white and frilly. When he pulled it out, he gave a small curse. There were blood smears on the undergarment. He could only assume it was one, judging by the frills and the softness of the fabric. The blood streaks were long and criss-crossed, from the shoulder to the bottom edge.

This girl must have taken some beating, he thought.

Chakotay removed the scanner from the tricorder and initiated a reading of the blood smears. He tried to smile as he read the results. He tapped the small 29th century commbadge pinned to the vest under his shirt.

"Chakotay to Rollins."

"Rollins here, Commander. Found anything?"

"A hundred percent chance that we are on the right trail. Kathleen O'Clair and Thomas Kiernan are making their way to the docks. They're probably in a carriage and driving along a main route. The girl is definitely Kathleen O'Clair and - " Chakotay paused, looked at the soiled garment on the bed.

"And what, Commander?"

"She is injured. Most probably whipped by someone. Chakotay out."

He didn't want to wait for their reaction. He felt his bile rise as he imagined a whip lashing and breaking sensitive skin on the girl's back. He snapped the tricorder shut, left the undergarment on the bed and quickly exited the room. The tricorder was hidden from view when he approached the innkeeper.

"Thank you. I think I have seen enough."

"The girl be your daughter, mister?"

"Yes," he replied as he started to move towards the door.

"You gonna find work at the docks, mister?" the man asked, but Chakotay didn't look back again as he stepped outside. Once outside he had to shield his eyes against the sun. A cart approached. Chakotay waved to the driver who brought the horse to a dead stop.

"Which way you're going, mister?" he asked.

The man pointed with his whip.

"Right down this road, sir. Want to ride along?"

"Thanks!" Chakotay jumped up and the driver shifted to make way for Chakotay.

"You be a visitor to these parts?" the man asked. Chakotay nodded, not in a mood to speak. Despite his clothes he looked clearly out of place; he gathered it was just the way of city dwellers to smell when someone was 'new to these parts'. He soaked in the view of the city, the streets, the tenements and run-down atmosphere of official looking buildings. He had to remind himself that not long ago, the country had experienced a famine. Poverty seemed rife. He passed a church building with stained glass windows and thought how much Kathryn would have enjoyed being inside one of the cathedrals.

But he was too worried about the girl. The blood on the undergarment was hers. The match with Kathryn Janeway was just too close for her not to be the one they were looking for. Besides, the innkeeper did confirm their names. He wished the cart would go faster, but didn't want to hurry the driver who seemed to enjoy taking his time. On an impulse he decided to get off again and started running down the road. He ignored the onlookers who stopped to stare at him. As he rounded a corner, he could see a carriage in the distance and hoped it was the one that carried Kathleen and Thomas Kiernan. It was impossible to take out his tricorder. It was technology completely alien to the people here even as he fumbled with it in his pocket. When he looked up again, the carriage had suddenly come to a stop as two men jumped at it from a side street. The horse reared and whinnied in panic. Then he saw one pulling out a young man, and on the other side, another man pulled the girl out and dragged her away to the side of a building. At the same time he recognised Rollins and Marla running towards them.

Chakotay started sprinting, not caring if he knocked into some pedestrians and sent them sprawling.

"Rollins!"

Rollins must have spotted him already, since he pointed in the direction the abductor had fled with Kathleen. He changed direction, moving swiftly to the building where he had seen Kathleen and the man. They had vanished down what looked like a narrow lane.

"Excuse... I'm sorry..." he muttered as he barged past people. The alley looked dark, but already there were people who had entered from the other end. A man pinned the girl against the wall, and he held a piece of paper for the onlookers to see. The girl looked very scared. She tried to break free, but his arm pressed against her neck.

He approached quietly. The attacker didn't notice him and neither did the girl. She was appealing to the people to help her.

"Lady, is this man bothering you?"

Only then did she look at him. His eyes widened and his heart raced wildly. Her eyes implored him; her lips were parted, and the attacker's arm had released its grip on her neck. Even in the weak light of the alley, he could see the colour of her eyes, blue-grey. He noted the lift of her eyebrows, the way her upper lip closed on the lower lip, the cheekbones, the shape of her eyes, and her hair...golden bronze curls kissing her shoulders lightly.

If he didn't know he was in 1899 Dublin, in an alley surrounded by dank, derelict buildings, if it hadn't been for the costume, he would have thought it was Kathryn Janeway standing there. For a brief, crazy moment he had thought it was Kathryn. Was Kathryn so persistently in his conscious that he saw her in every woman? This girl, this young woman, looked at him with Kathryn's eyes in which the fear gradually abated.

"Please... help me..."

Her attacker turned to him, but he grabbed the man and shoved him so hard against the opposite wall that he could actually hear his skull bounce off it. The man had freckles in his face, with a neat beard. He also looked like an example of the gentleman one of the innkeepers had told him about. Chakotay assumed the man to be Riley, the one Kathleen married in the corrupted timeline and left thirteen years later. Only that wasn't going to happen now, he thought, as Riley's stormy eyes met his. He had Riley by the jacket lapels, and pressed his fist into Riley's chest hard enough that he couldn't offer much resistance.

"Seems to me you don't understand it when the lady says 'no'," he hissed at Riley. Keeping Riley pinned to the wall, he turned to the woman, still trying to hide his shock at her likeness to Kathryn Janeway.

"You okay, Miss?" She nodded to him, and he threw the onlookers a furious glance. "What are you looking at? Do you like what you just saw?"

"No," a woman dared to reply. "But I'd like to see you give that creepy crawly thing you have in your hands a bloody good what for."

Riley tried to wrestle free. Chakotay released him.

"That woman must marry me today," Riley barked.

"Seems to me she has other ideas. Now, how about fighting me?" he invited Riley, pulling off his jacket and handing it to the girl.

"Give him a good what for!" someone shouted.

Chakotay flexed his fists.

"Think you can handle fighting a man?" he hissed, fired by his anger at the knowledge that this man had injured Kathleen.

Riley, seeing his intentions, lunged forward, but was stopped by a fierce hook into his mid-section. He bent double with a heaving 'oof' sound. When he straightened up, Chakotay was ready. The next few minutes, with the crowd cheering, he pummelled Riley, going almost blind at the thought of the marks on the woman's neck and the tell-tale signs that Riley had kissed and punished her. Riley threw a few ineffectual punches, clearly unfamiliar with the world of boxing training. Chakotay had an advantage of almost five centuries over the man, with a good deal of fighting experience.

Riley tried to charge Kathleen who was standing almost frozen to the spot.

"Oh no, you don't."

Chakotay threw one last punch, hitting Riley square on the jaw. Riley's head snapped as he went crashing to the opposite wall, where he slid down ignominiously until he was in a sitting position with his head over his knees. Chakotay breathed hard, not hearing the cheers of the people. Riley remained slumped against the wall. Perhaps they had witnessed many similar occurrences.

He turned to the young woman.

"He won't trouble you again," he assured. "You were with a friend?" She nodded, but flinched somewhat when he came nearer. "Please... I won't hurt you, Miss - ?

"O'Clair...Kathleen O'Clair," she confirmed her identity softly, though with firmness in her voice. She had regained some of her composure. "My friend is Thomas Kiernan..."

"Kathleen O'Clair, then. Where are you and your friend heading - ?"

"What - what is your name, sir?" she asked. Chakotay realised he hadn't introduced himself. Quaint, the addressing of 'sir', not quite in the same context as on Voyager where it designated a rank rather than title. He pulled the cap deeper over his forehead, but by the way her eyes had widened, he knew she had seen part of his tattoo.

"My name is...Charles."

"You saved my life, Charles." Hardly aware of his gesture, she hooked her arm through his. The crowd forgotten, he led her to the wide street. She looked around her pensively. "This is the last time I'll see this city..."

"Explain?"

"My friend and I - we are making our way to America...New York."

"You're on your way to the harbour, then."

"Yes. That man...His name is Justin Riley. I was supposed to marry him today."

Chakotay managed not to show his surprise. If only Kathleen knew! They continued walking towards the carriage where Thomas, Magnus and Marla were waiting. Kathleen broke loose from him and started running towards them.

"Thomas! Oh, Tommy! We're safe!"

She hugged Thomas Kiernan fiercely. Magnus and Marla looked at him with wonder in their eyes. He nodded to them not to say anything, but he could see that they too noticed the resemblance. Thomas Kiernan had the same remarkable blue eyes as Tom Paris had.

"Oh, Thomas," cried Kathleen again. "I thought that nasty man had killed you!" After a few moments of hugging and kissing on the cheek, Kathleen broke free and in a breathless voice said, "Thomas, this kind gentleman saved me. He gave Justin Riley a good what for."

"He did?" Thomas reached for his hand and shook it vigorously. "I thought no one could beat Justin Riley at barefist fighting. Except of course, that mean Michael Sullivan. But I bet you would have licked him too."

"His last name is Sullivan?" Marla and Magnus Rollins chorused, looking at Chakotay. He winked imperceptibly that they must try and mask their surprise. Michael Sullivan, indeed. How many times did he have to fight Michael Sullivan to get Kathryn's undivided attention? She had been lonely then, during those years. Lonely... And he had suffered in silence, carrying a torch for a long time.

"Yes, that's Justin's new friend he met a week ago. I've never seen him before but I didn't like him."

"I'll say!" Thomas agreed fervently. "One very evil looking man, that. Say, Kathleen, have you met my new friends? They are Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore - "

"We were waiting for Charlie when we happened upon your little confrontation with...Michael Sullivan. We left him stewing in an alley," Rollins said conversationally. He looked at the carriage, where the driver was still waiting patiently for them.

"You and Charlie are together? Then I feel doubly protected," Kathleen said with great relief.

"We must get on, Katie O'Clair," Tommy reminded her, looking apologetically at the three of them.

"We could tag along, if that's okay with you. We're on our way to Liverpool - "

"Liverpool! Are you going to New York too?" Kathleen asked.

Chakotay laughed. Funny how normal it felt to have a conversation in a 19th century context, and how being careful not to pollute the timeline or change history became instinctive. He might have killed Justin Riley. But then he would have corrupted the man's own timeline, however repulsive it seemed to him, knowing that the man had no manners, no respect, and would probably have driven a wife to the grave, given his tendency to violence. The girl's bruises that were visible to them had been put there by two men, he believed, not just her father.

"No, but we have to cross the Irish Sea - "

"Oh, we'd be so happy if we all traveled as a party, at least to Liverpool," Kathleen suggested. "Tommy, you don't mind, do you?"

"Uh, no, Katie O'Clair. I know that look in your eyes. It's time for me to do as you command. We have to hurry though, or we won't make the cattle ship."

"And, Tommy?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I'd like Marla to ride with me."

"I second that," said Magnus. Tommy gave them a lop-sided grin as he helped lift Kathleen into the carriage. Marla looked beguilingly at Magnus who complied with a smile as he lifted her next to Kathleen. Her eyes were shining as they waved the men goodbye.

Magnus looked at Chakotay and shook his head. They had most certainly found Kathryn Janeway's founding mother.. The men practically ran the rest of the way to the port. A river meandered through the city and the harbour was situated at the mouth of the river. In the distance they could already see the ships. Out of breath but happy that they had at least reached the harbour, they helped the girls alight from the carriage. Tommy put something in the driver's hand, then patted the horse's flank.

"There's our ship, the Virginia. We have a small cabin..." Tommy told them. "The ladies can have the cabin. We'll have to sit around on the deck." Chakotay raised an eyebrow as he saw how they were herding cattle into the hold. "It's killing two birds with one stone. If we want to go the quickest way, this is it," Tommy said by way of explanation.

Kathleen didn't look too unhappy. In fact her face, despite the bruises on her lips and neck, was glowing. He didn't think they'd have a very comfortable journey across, but Kathleen was filled with excitement. Since they had already booked their passage, they wouldn't have much trouble boarding the Britannic. Their mission would only be accomplished once they had seen Kathleen on the deck of that ship as it left Liverpool harbour. It was essential for them to keep a close eye on Kathleen and Thomas throughout the journey across. Magnus and Marla had orders not to let them out of their sight. He wondered a little about Michael Sullivan. The man remained a mystery, even with Kathleen's observations; he was an unknown factor. Chakotay would breathe easier once they were on the ship. He hadn't seen the man and wouldn't recognise him, but he kept a watchful eye on the docking berths. Magnus and Marla and their two charges would recognise the felon at least.

He waited until they were all aboard before he too boarded the vessel. Much against his better judgement they had replicated some currency to pay for their passage, buy something to eat, and if necessary and if it had to come to that, purchase the tickets for Kathleen and Thomas. He had no doubt there were vultures waiting in Liverpool, eager to pounce on unsuspecting Irish émigrés, especially girls, and Kathleen had to be protected at all costs. If she could get on the Britannic, everything would be plain sailing.

************

Chakotay shivered. The eight hour journey across the Irish Sea was harrowing. A wind had sprung up and whipped the waves into a frenzy. The sun that had shone like a balm on tired faces in early morning Dublin had vanished and in its place were dark clouds that billowed, looking like fat squirming worms that seemed to have no end to their bodies. He felt the cold, a pernicious savage eating through the fabric of his clothes. He gave another shudder and wondered how the two girls were coping in their cabin. He was glad that they weren't on deck like some women and children who were huddled together, getting soaked by the spray of the waves that lashed against the boat as well as the rain that had begun to pelt down.

There was nowhere else to go. He had found himself a little nook where he could take a body count using his tricorder. It shocked him. He couldn't decide which were the heads of cattle and which the people. There were five hundred and seventy humans on board and sixty heads of cattle. The men, women and some children looked bedraggled, hungry and tired. They sat on the large suitcases or any other baggage that offered a seat. Mothers were holding young children close to them. He even saw one young mother breastfeeding her baby. When the rain started, he had taken off his jacket and hung it over two small children sitting together. Soon after he had seen Magnus doing the same. They couldn't stop Tommy from taking his jacket off too, even though they had to ensure Tommy remained protected.

He was hungry, but he didn't care much. The people he observed were worse off and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew what the lot of many of the immigrants would be. They couldn't effect a single change, for history would be altered forever. History had already been altered for one family bloodline and they were here to correct that mistake. His heart burned at the knowledge that many of the people he saw on the deck would probably never make it to the New World. They would die in poverty, alone and sick. In a few hours he would be back on Braxton's ship and eating. These poor souls were all making their way out of a miserable life in Ireland, hoping to make a better life when they got to America. The grass was not always greener on the other side for those who did make it to America, he thought with some bitterness. Many of the Irish immigrants found themselves settled in tenement buildings very similar to what he had seen in Dublin. He felt powerless, and it made him angry.

On Voyager they led an ordered life, one determined by a set of rules and within those parameters, they conducted their affairs. Even when rations were low, there was always the next planet where they could trade for provisions. It was one thing reading about poverty, even seeing pictures of the devastation of war and drought and famine; they were detached from those social evils. It was another thing living it with their hindsight of four hundred and eighty years. He had been a little appalled at what they saw in Dublin, which was certainly not particular to one city only. But he had smelled poverty, and he had smelled social degradation. For most, the only way out was to leave forever. Kathleen and Thomas were better off than most. They had the appearance of the 'gentlemen and lady' types the innkeeper had told him about. They had the vision, and they had prepared, probably for a long time, to take the step. He was certain that they had savings, because despite their experiences, they were confident about where they were heading.

The boat lurched. Again he bent over the rail and retched. The nausea was slowly clearing as he became used to the rolling sensation. Magnus had also spent some time leaning over the boatrail retching and so had Thomas Kiernan.

Tommy left Magnus's side and stumbled towards him.

"Are you okay, Charlie?"

"I will be as soon as we dock," he said, still queasy after the last bout.

Thomas looked at him speculatively. "You're not Irish."

"No."

"Neither are you English." Chakotay, leaning with his elbows on the rail, looked at the eager young face.

"No. I'm Indian."

"As in American Indian?"

"As in American Indian, yes."

"That's why you have that tattoo." There was no point in denying it although he had done his best to hide it.

"Yes. So tell me, what are you going to do in America?"

"Join the military. I want to fly an aeroplane one day."

"And you couldn't do that here?"

"Why would I stay in one place when I can cross the Atlantic and see many more places? Seriously, Charlie, all the opportunities are there. It's the land of hopes and dreams! I am going to apply to enter one of the colleges in New York and study the stars."

"The stars, huh?"

"Yes. Do you think that there is life out there?" Thomas asked, looking up at the sky.

"I don't know..."

"You sound sceptical, Charlie. Know what I think?"

"What?"

Thomas leaned closer to him, in a conspiratorial gesture. "I think that one day, man will walk on the moon."

"How do you suppose they'll get there?"

"In ships designed to travel outside earth's atmosphere. I know my geography. I'm going to study astronomy as well."

"Ships that will fly... Now there's a thought."

"I'm not crazy, am I?"

"Thomas, a couple of hundred years ago, you would have been burned at the stake for making such outrageous claims. I don't think you're crazy. I may be sceptical, and you may be over enthusiastic, but I don't think you're crazy. You sound really convinced. Remember, not everyone will share your dreams, okay?"

"I know. But Katie does."

"That's because she believes in you."

"I like that. We've been friends since birth."

Another pelting of rain, with the ship lurching wildly from portside to starboard side. They were quiet, wrapped in their own thoughts. Rollins had kept Thomas company, but it seemed he was content just to listen to the young man. He'd remember to get a report from Rollins later. Their mission was almost complete as the city of Liverpool came closer and closer.

************

Marla Gilmore, very proud of having been chosen for this mission, looked at the sleeping Kathleen O'Clair. The bunk was narrow, and she was sitting at the edge, by Kathleen's feet. From time to time she gently massaged Kathleen's ankles, or touched the hand at her side. She had helped Kathleen remove her dress to dab the raw wounds on her back with some liniment. She was appalled, but her long years in Starfleet, her repulsion at what they had done under Ransom's command helped her not to cry out in dismay at the angry weals on Kathleen's back. The wounds were put there by two men, she realised as she saw the bruises around he young woman's breasts, on her neck and lips.

Kathleen had bravely gritted her teeth and refused to make a sound. Her heart cried out for the young woman. Kathleen had been hesitant at first to talk with her about the marks on her neck and her bruised lips.

Marla had prodded gently, not wanting to seem overly inquisitive and not wanting to scare Kathleen off. When they had entered the cabin, they had both sat down on the bed. Kathleen had been fascinated by Marla.

"Your hair is very blonde. I haven't seen many women with hair like spun gold..."

"Thank you..."

"And your dress... I haven't seen this style before..."

"It's from London - "

"I've never been to London..."

"I've never been to New York," Marla replied. Not in 1899 at least...

There was a look - veiled envy perhaps - in Kathleen's eyes but it was gone quickly. Kathleen took her left hand, and touched the finger where there would either be an engagement ring or a wedding band.

"I think you are waiting for the right man..."

Marla smiled. "The right man is there, all right. He just doesn't think I exist."

Kathleen sighed. "I will only marry for love. It's why I - "

"Ran away?"

"Well, it's more than that, really. I was sort of an unconventional person in our house, growing up. Can you believe it? If a woman reads, writes, has opinions and voices them and wants to stand equal to any man - that makes her a curiosity, abnormal. It's education that should be available for every human on Earth, isn't it? What is my right and that of every woman. It was never easy, you know..."

Marla found touching Kathleen's bruised skin irresistible. A gentle, soothing touch. Kathleen's eyes closed briefly; a tear rolled down her cheek.

"You were hurt because you claimed your right as an independent..."

"Last night...Justin...I was supposed to marry him today. I didn't take the news very well. He's...very rough...as you can see."

"I'm sorry..." said Marla.

"And my father... I shamed him, he said." Kathleen gave a sob and threw herself against Marla, who could only hold her while she cried, making soothing sounds to comfort the distraught girl. When Kathleen had calmed, Marla wondered how she could look so beautiful despite the ravages of tears. "I knew then that I had to get away... Away from my father, my family, away from Ireland."

"Your mother?"

"I am going to miss her, so much. She - " Kathleen paused, then continued, looking out the porthole. "She knew what I was going to do. I didn't tell her anything. Yesterday afternoon we - we made peace at last. We said our goodbyes." Kathleen looked sad. Marla wondered if Kathleen O'Clair ever made it back to Ireland again.

"But you are worried about her too..."

"You've seen the marks on my back!" Kathleen said heatedly, although her voice remained low. "My father... There's no knowing what he'd do...with her... She stood by me..." Kathleen cried again softly. When it stopped, she sniffed and smiled through her tears. "She told me I will be surprised by love..."

"Well, Kathleen, I'm pretty certain you will marry the man of your dreams one day."

"I hope so!" They were silent for a while. Then Katie asked, "Tell me about your friend Charlie, please? He looks different, not from this part of the world."

"Katie," Marla said kindly, "some of these things you'll have to ask yourself.

"Is he married?"

"Not yet, but he is betrothed."

"Oh? Is she beautiful?"

"The most beautiful. Come to think of it, you remind me a little of her...the colour of your hair and eyes..."

"He did look at me strangely, as if he had seen a ghost."

"He misses her, that's probably why. Now, I think you need to rest a while, or sleep until we get to Liverpool. You don't seem to have had much sleep..."

"I must admit I am tired."

That had been hours ago. Because of the rain she didn't want to venture on deck, but she would have liked Commander Chakotay to talk to Kathleen. Despite what happened to her, the young woman was very sure of what she wanted, and extremely focused. She was going to make a success of whatever it was that she put her mind to. There was no doubt in their minds that her marriage to Justin, if it happened, would have been an unhappy one. Merely judging by the marks on Kathleen's breasts, her neck and mouth, the man was violent, a vindictive abuser. In the corrupted timeline, Kathleen would have been married thirteen years to the unfeeling jerk. If that manner of physical abuse was already evident before the marriage, how in the name of heaven could she have endured it for thirteen years? Running away then would have been an act of desperation. The angry bruises on Kathleen's neck and on her breasts - Justin's legacy - and those angry weals on Kathleen's back, arms, buttocks and legs put there by her father... Marla shook her head. What was it she was always told by her grandmother?

In any time, in any age, in any place, in any social structure no matter how advanced the society, there will be men who will abuse their partners.

She sighed and leaned against the bulkhead. Down in the hold she could hear the cattle. They were as agitated as the humans. Marla pulled her shawl tighter around her. It was cold and she hoped they'd be in Liverpool soon so that they could complete their mission.

***********************

It had stopped raining, and the breeze had dried out Chakotay's shirt and undershirt. He made his way through the throng of people and mounds of luggage to the girls' cabin. He knocked his head against the doorframe as he entered. They hadn't answered his soft knock and now he smiled as he saw both women sound asleep. He shook them gently in turn. Marla woke first. She sat suddenly bolt upright.

"Oh, Com - Charles!" she gasped, looking guilty that she had fallen asleep. When he placed his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture, her consternation subsided. Kathleen had groaned awake and he guessed that she was experiencing some pain and stiffness again, as she looked at him with sleep-heavy eyes. A smile grew on her, a shy smile that lit up her face. They had made the crossing in a quicker time than he had anticipated, and it was now 1600.

"We're here, ladies. The Britannic sails in two hours."

He left them to freshen up quickly, and ten minutes later they were ready. Kathleen looked rested and much more at ease. Marla must have worked her magic, he realised. It was still light. After the stormy crossing, the skies had opened up again, although there was still a sniping wind. They waited impatiently as the cattle were off-loaded first and he observed Kathleen and Thomas keenly, noting their flushed cheeks. He smiled. The anticipation of crossing the Atlantic, the thrill of leaving their country and making a life elsewhere filled their beings. An expression of sadness flitted across Kathleen's features as she gazed into the distance, for the last time, catching a glimpse of the shores of Ireland.

"I wish...that Mama had been with me," he heard her say wistfully to Marla. Kathleen was worried about her mother, and not without reason. The way Kathleen had been whipped... The same could happen to her mother.

"Do you remember anything that your mother said to you that might make you less worried?" he asked, for he was standing just behind her. She turned quickly to look up at him. He experienced another jolt at the directness of her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed, the cut to her lips less angry.

"She said she had lived long enough to know how to handle Papa..."

"She sounds like you."

Kathleen smiled.

"I wanted to stay, you know, after...after..." A dark cloud came to her eyes again and he felt his own anger flaring. He curbed the overflow of it as quickly as he could, and touched her cheek gently.

"I think I know what she told you."

"What do you think she said, Charles?" Kathleen asked, the light playing in her eyes now.

"Follow your heart."

"Aye," she said and became quiet again, looking over the sea in the direction of Ireland.

Finally the passengers could disembark. The men carried the luggage while Marla had her arm hooked through Kathleen's as they walked down the gangway. Chakotay couldn't suppress a smile. Marla and Kathleen seemed to have bonded. They walked along the pier with the cold breeze whipping colour into their cheeks. It was easy to recognise the Britannic. It was the largest vessel that lay berthed at the furthest end and a crowd was milling about.

An oily looking man and a woman, whose appearance was as slovenly as her partner, accosted them.

"Say, mister, I could help carry your luggage. My friend here, she's got tickets to sell. Real cheap, too."

"Hell, no!" Magnus barked at them.

Another stranger sauntered up to them. He looked less oily than the first couple, but persuasive. If they didn't know better, they'd have fallen for the con men dotted all over the quay. The man's eyes, steel grey, looked earnest.

"There's a fine inn selling excellent lunches, pretty ladies. The ship only leaves in five hours. I can see you're hungry for a hot meal. You can come with me..."

"We'll take our chances," Rollins replied, scowling. "Back off!" The man disappeared quickly. Kathleen looked a little startled at Magnus's behaviour. Chakotay could understand it. They had only one mission, and their recent run-in with two equally determined individuals in Dublin kept them on high alert. The slovenly couple followed them, the woman touching Kathleen’s and Marla's dresses and handbags.

"Come on, be off!" Chakotay growled, irritated by their persistence. When he snarled and moved as if to punch the man, they scooted away hastily. Marla turned to Chakotay.

"Charles, I think I can carry one of the bags," she offered. He smiled, knowing how they had to check themselves not to address him by his rank, even though he'd said they could call him Chakotay when out of earshot. He nodded to Marla and soon he found himself walking next to Kathleen, her arm hooked through his.

She smiled as she looked up at him.

"Tommy told me you are an American Indian. I noticed you have a strange tattoo... Is that part of your culture?" she asked.

He couldn't deny it. Sometime during his fight with Justin Riley, the cap had slipped off although he had pulled it back quickly before anyone noticed.

"I guess you could say it is, Kathleen."

"And it means much to you."

An image of his father, dragging a reluctant fifteen year old boy through the jungle to find the Rubber Tree People, his own impatience and dislike of their ways, came to him. He remembered his father's words, that one day he would embrace his culture. Kathleen had an instinctive understanding, seeing deep into his heart. She was a stranger to him and yet not a stranger. He remembered the day he'd stood in the clearing as the leader of the tribe burned the tattoo into his skin, and the tears he couldn't stop.

"Yes...yes, it means the world to me."

"But, you were once angry, like the warrior who fought to save me..."

"Aye, Kathleen. Much of the anger is gone now."

"Marla tells me you have a lady waiting at home."

"Marla talked, did she?"

"No more than she had to. She said I should ask you myself."

He gave a sigh. Kathryn was lost, and would only be returned to them if this sweet young woman stood on the deck of the Britannic. They were almost there, with half an hour to spare. He picked up the pace and Kathleen matched his long stride with faster, shorter ones.

"I have someone whom I love. She's not well at the moment, but she is being treated. We are hoping that our search for a cure will be successful.

"Is she dying?"

"No. But you have given me much hope, Kathleen O'Clair. Much hope."

"I do not know how I could be of help, but if you say that it is so, then I believe you. I do hope she gets better. She must, if only to see your dimples when you smile, Charles. Tell me, what is her name?"

Could he tell her? Could he say that Kathleen O'Clair would become the forbear of Kathryn Janeway? He sighed deeply. A name wouldn't hurt...

"Her name is Kathryn..."

"It is a good name, Charles. A good name. One to be kept for posterity, I should think."

"We're here," Magnus said as they all stopped. Tommy turned to him and held out his hand. Again Chakotay was struck by Tommy's wide grin, his bright blue eyes, the future that beckoned so brightly for the young man.

"Charlie, Kathleen and I...we must thank you for accompanying us all the way here and ensuring our safe passage and safe arrival."

"It was our pleasure, indeed, Thomas. I hope you will realise all your dreams. Remember what I said - "

"Yes, not every man will share my vision."

"You got that."

Tommy, Magnus and Marla walked up the gangway with the luggage to store, while Chakotay remained standing on the quay next to Kathleen. Several minutes later, Marla and Magnus came down again.

"Everything is set, Charlie. Marla, Tommy and one of the crew saw to Kathleen's luggage."

First Marla hugged Kathleen, careful that she didn't press the younger woman's back too hard. They stood like that for a few seconds until Marla released her. There were tears in her eyes as she stood back a little.

"May you meet the man of your dreams. May you find joy in your new country," Marla said.

Magnus took Kathleen's hand and kissed the back of it in a very gentleman-like manner.

"Go well, Kathleen O'Clair. Our best wishes for a safe journey."

"Thank you. Thank you so much for saving our lives, for accompanying us here."

"My turn," said Chakotay softly, and his eyes rested on Kathleen almost reverently. A lump grew in his throat.

"I am going away from this, my land, Charles," she said, her face so indescribably sad that he drew her very tenderly into his arms. She was so small, just like Kathryn, so feisty, just like Kathryn, and so unbelievably courageous that he wanted to cry. He wanted to offer solace, to tell her that she need never fear, that one day, she might come back to Ireland, that even though their meeting was so brief, she would remember him with affection.

He held her away, and dug into his pants pocket, one of the hidden pockets Braxton had recommended. He drew out an oval shaped black stone, a pattern of lines in a spiral, moving from the edge of the stone to the centre. The stone was old, one given him by his grandfather, and shiny from years of handling.

"Here, Kathleen O'Clair, take this. It is called a riverstone. It is my pledge to you, and to remember a friend who couldn't help but like you very much. You will find the man who will be your true love. He will love you forever, with care and compassion and most of all, with respect and faith and trust, in the way that you deserve."

Kathleen held the riverstone on her open palm. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Charles? How can I take something so precious from you?"

"Because, sweet Kathleen, just as my beloved is waiting for me, your beloved is waiting for you; this is my gift to you. You have helped me, you don't know how much."

Kathleen threw herself against him again and wept.

"We have a few minutes, Charlie," he heard Magnus say.

He released Kathleen, then pressed his lips against her forehead. She stared at his face, her eyes searching, searching... Chakotay took off his cap; Kathleen gasped softly. Fingers that trembled rested like a butterfly against his tattoo.

"Thank you, Charles..."

She turned slowly, walking up the gangway like someone who was loath to part from her people, the country of her birth, her culture. Finally, she moved through the bulwark and stepped on the deck. Chakotay smiled as she took one last look at them and waved. An officer dressed in a white uniform approached Kathleen. He looked resplendent, the triple gold bars on his sleeves and epaulettes glinting.

"Commander, look!"

"I see it. The Captain has come to welcome the last passenger on board."

His heart was beating in his throat, just as he was absolutely certain did the hearts of Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore, as Captain Edward Adam Janeway stopped in front of Kathleen O'Clair. They watched a tableau of slow movement in which they could record every nuance, every look, find detail in the gold stripes on the Captain's sleeves, the ribbons in Kathleen's pretty hat, her mouth that curved into a smile, the almost imperceptible curtsy as she raised a white gloved hand to meet the hand of Captain Janeway. Their hands touched, hers lying like a snow white dove on his open palm. Chakotay even imagined he saw the dove opening her wings and flapping gently in harmony with a new freedom.

Did the universe suddenly bow in reverence? Chakotay's eyes burned with tears.

"Mission complete," he said with lips that trembled.

It happened in those very same slow movements that Marla turned to look behind her. He only heard her soft cry, then Magnus's warning shout.

"Commander, watch out!"

Chakotay felt two hard, swift knocks against his back. Pain black as night and sharp as ten lightning bolts shot through him as he turned. Through a haze he saw the bloody rage on the attacker's face. As if from a distance he heard Marla's voice, her cry of recognition, just as he slowly slumped to the ground, ready to be swallowed by the abyss that opened beneath him.

"Michael Sullivan...you!"

******************

END CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter 6

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