New Story: Intermezzo

Veronica Jane Williams
xkhoi@iafrica.com

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns Voyager, the characters. I own
the story.

Intermezzo was written as a response to "Counterpoint". There ia
a lot of J/C , as well as P/T, and J & P moments. This coda
would read easier as a sequel of sorts to "Too late the Hero."

RATING: NC-17

 
Of course the music I played during the writing of this coda:

Gustav Mahler: Symphony No. 1 in D Major.

INTERMEZZO

There was a soft rustle of the luxuriant leaves, as the old man
parted the foliage, and presented himself to the younger man.
His face creased with age, yet so familiar, Kolopak looked at his
son. There was a smile on his face. Always a smile, Chakotay
mused. He looked at his father, and it felt for him as always,
unnecessary to speak. His father had an instinct; he knew the
things that weighed heavily on his son's heart. Like now. He sat
down on a fallen three stump, and started his little miniature
woodcarvings he had been so fond of.

"What is it that troubles you, Cha-ko-tay?"

Chakotay looked at his father, and thought how he always gave that
special inflection when his father said his name. In these moments
he felt especially close, as if he could touch the old man. He wanted
to, badly.

"Kathryn - "

"Ah, Kathryn."  Kolopak looked at Chakotay, his smile taking on
an indulgent tone. "Your friend, your colleague, your Captain..."

"Yes..." Chakotay whispered, lowering his face, not wanting to look
in his father's smiling face.

"Whom you love..."

"Yes..."

"You'd lay down your life for her, Cha-ko-tay." He said that slowly,
as a statement.

"Over and over, Father," Chakotay said, looking into Kolopak's face
now. A face that suddenly turned sombre.

"But."

"Yes."

"She does not love you?" Kolopak asked.

"Of that I am not so sure, Father. Not anymore. Not after..."

"Ahhhh..." Kolopak exclaimed knowingly. "Someone else has made his
home in her heart."

"Yes..."

"It pains you, my son. I can see that."

"I love her, Father. I do not know how I can ever stop."

"But she pines after this...this man?"

Chakotay sighed. His father was always too astute. He knew. He just
knew.

"Yes...she is. She is, Father. I sometimes see her deep in thought.
Preoccupied. And it is now a month since he has left."

"Support her, Cha-ko-tay. She does not realise that she needs you.
You have all the patience. Have greater patience now, with her.
She needs you son."

"You have everything worked out, Father. It is not that easy,
you know."

"Whoever said life is easy, Cha-ko-tay?"  And with that the link
was broken with his father, the vision quest over.

Chakotay stared at the darkened surroundings of his room. He sighed.
Again. His heart felt heavy. Kathryn was just not the same since
Kashyk left with his people, the Devore. It wasn't something the
crew picked up, but he sensed Kathryn's withdrawal, from him. Their
old camaraderie, the love he thought they shared, their spiritual
connection he always had been convinced existed between them,
somehow broken. And with it, his heart. He somehow felt that she,
although she used Kashyk, was drawn to him. There was just something
about him, he thought, that kept his Kathryn still staring out
of her observation window, vacant, unaware even that he had entered
the room.

He should be happy that Kashyk did elect to stay with his own people,
but he knew she had offered him the opportunity to stay on board
Voyager as a refugee. Who knows, what could have happened then? Yet,
even as Kashyk left Voyager, he somehow, somehow, took a part of
Kathryn with him.


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


"I could make my life here, with you, sweet Kathryn," Kashyk said,
as he sat next to her on the bed. She looked at him, where she had
been lying, and sat up.

"Then why don't you?" she asked, reaching out her hand to touch
his cheek.

"I am falling for you, and it - it distracts me..." he whispered
as he placed his fingers against her golden hair, stroking it,
relishing the softness of it as he laces it through his fingers.
Her face turned towards his fingers, her lips touching, touching.

"Then let me distract you, Kashyk. I feel...for you..."

"I know, Kathryn," Kashyk said, as he brought his face close
to hers, and with his forefinger, tilted her chin upwards, so that
he brushed her lips with his. Her eyes closed as she felt the
familiar sensation of desire flow through her.

"Love me, Kashyk..." she pleaded.

He touched her shoulders then and pressed her gently back against
the pillows. He bent over her, and kissed her, more deeply now,
her mouth opening under his insistent tongue as he surged into
her mouth, tongue flicking against tongue, tongue tracing her teeth,
sucking, then gently nipping her lower lip, playing, playing,
their breathing shallow, the only sound that could be heard in
the room. He leaves her lips, and nips her ear lobe, her neck
arching as his lips and tongue lapped hotly her already fevered
skin. 

She felt his hands pulling down the thin straps of her gown,
over the swell of her breasts. Exposing the two milky white,
smooth peaks, his fingers, thumbs on each swollen aureole.
He gasped as she arched against his hands, pressing her breasts
upwards against his hands. He bent down and took one aureole
completely in his mouth, causing her to gasp with pleasure.
He sucked, while his hands moved the satin gown further down,
over her hips. His fingers rested at her centre, parting her
legs slightly. He looked up and into her flushed face, her mouth
open and panting.

"I will love you tonight, Kathryn..." as he bent down, and with
as soft sigh, pressed his face on the damp triangle. Then he
moved against her, his mouth and tongue expertly lapping at
her. She moved against his mouth, picking up his rhythm,
moving, moving.

Kathryn heard from a far way off the strains of the Mahler Symphony, 
reaching through its andante, flowing evenly, slowly, till it picked 
up pace. Horns joining woodwinds, picking up the sound of the 
trumpets in exquisite counterpoint, deceptively dissimilar, yet 
moving together in harmony, reaching its crescendo in a clash of 
cymbals.  

She cried out as she reached...

Kathryn woke with a start. She was drenched in sweat, and she
sat up. She was breathing heavily. Gasping. She had that dream
again. The intensely erotic dream in which she and...

She groaned.

Dear God, how can I get him out of my mind? Surely I cannot love
him? He isn't here. Not anymore. Yet...

She lay back again, closed her eyes, and felt again, the flow
of tears, unabated, soft, unhindered as she tries desperately
to forget a man who kissed her only once. And left. And left...

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

Tom and B'Elanna were sitting in what now became their familiar
meeting place: their cave halfway up the North Face of the Eiger.
But it was the cave at the other side, the one from which they
always viewed the Aurora Borealis. He was sitting with his back
against the rock, with B'Elanna seated in front of him, nestled
snugly between his legs. His arms were around her, the hand cupping
her breast. He would kiss her hair and neck from time to time.

Tom programmed the Aurora Borealis, the play of streaks of light,
its greens and yellows, orange, sometime red, combining in a
concert of movement.

"It beautiful, Tom. Everytime I see it."

"Yes...it does get to you, doesn't it? A completely natural
phenomenon."

They talked while their faces would be lit by the flashes of the
profusion of colour.

"I could make love to you, here, under the Northern Lights,"
he suggested, his hands already dipping under her T-shirt, fingers
moving away the bra. He took her nipple between thumb and forefinger,
and squeezed gently. He could feel her respond, as she turned into
his embrace, and kissed him.

"Yes, you would, would you," she said, her voice heavy with desire.

"We could do it here, you know."

"Ahhh, yes. Tom of the novel experience," she was still saying
when she realised her was pulling the T-shirt over her head.

"Not a word, sweetheart. Let me love you," he whispered, before
capturing her breast in his mouth.

By the time he removed his mouth from her breast, B'Elanna had pulled
his trousers over his hips, exposing him. She raised herself over
him, and settled herself on his throbbing sex, sinking deep onto
him.

"What were you saying, Tom?" she asked him, as she started moving...

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

"We come here tomorrow?" Tom asked hopefully as they dressed 
themselves again after their tempestuous bout of lovemaking on a 
ledge halfway up a snowcapped Eiger.

"Tomorrow, my treat," she promised him.

They were scaling their way down, she was tied to him with ropes,
abseiling neatly down.

"Tom," she said as they made their way down the mountain, "our
Aurora Borealis, didn't we see something similar about a month ago?"

"Yeah, the time the Devore boarded Voyager and inspected the ship,
looking for those telepaths.

"It was almost the same, the profusion of colour across the dark
expanse."

"Not a happy time for us, sweetheart. We lost two shuttles."

"But we helped those telepaths find a new home."

"Now that's our Captain, don't you think?" he said to her.

"That's her all right," she agreed.

They had reached the foot of the face, and were standing on level
ground, Tom untying her harness, removing carabiners, taking the
crampons and boots off.

Some minutes later they left the holodeck, on their way to Tom's
quarters.

"You know sweetheart, I don't know whether anyone's noticed, but
Captain Janeway, she - she's not the same since we left Devore
space."

"You mean since that creep Kashyk left?"

"Okay, since he left. I don't know, B'Elanna, but she seems awfully 
distracted these days."

"Maybe we should ask her, since you're so interested. I just remember 
we had to listen to that horrible music while they searched the 
ship."

"Shame on you B'Elanna Torres. How can you say Mahler's First
Symphony is horrible?"

"Was that what it was?" she asked, very sceptical.

"Sweetheart, way back in the Alpha Quadrant, in the home of one
Admiral Owen Paris, that music played all the time. "Yes, Gustav 
Mahler, 19th century Terran composer. I happen to know it's Captain 
Janeway's favourite symphony. Beautiful! Only the connoisseurs could
love it."

"And Tom Paris considers himself to be a connoisseur of good
classical music?"

"Why yes, ask Harry! But seriously, having to listen to the music
of the great Terran composers of the late 19th century, kinda rubs
off on a person."

B'Elanna couldn't understand why Tom could wax lyrical over the
unhappiest music she had heard in her life.  And it was also clear 
to her that the Captain did indeed appear unhappy. Melancholy. She 
wondered whether it had anything to do with that Kashyk.

"Tom," B'Elanna said as they lugged their climbing gear with them
down the corridors to his quarters, "I think that Kashyk must have
affected her."

"Yeah? How?"

"Tom, where were you? Haven't you been listening to rumours? They
were quite chummy, down in the mess hall, and I heard that they 
kissed."

"Shame on you, B'Elanna, to feed from the gossipmongers mill." Tom
took a double take. "They kissed?"

By this time they had reached his quarters, and were busy stuffing
the gear into his wardrobe.

"Tom..."

"Yeah."

"Chakotay...he feels shut out. She has sort of withdrawn from him.
I think..."

"B'Elanna, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"He loves her, you know."

"B'Elanna, sweetheart - "

"He's unhappy, Tom."

"You're suggesting we do something about it? Help two adults find
themselves?"

"She's unhappy, Tom."

"And we have to help them, right?"

"Now, we're talking." And she sailed into his arms, hauled him to
the bed, where she divested him of his clothing in the amount of time
it took him to say "Yes, Ma'am."


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


They were on the bridge. In their command chairs, so close, if
Chakotay leaned over, he could see the little flecks in the pupils
of Kathryn's eyes; so close, he could smell her hair, just washed
and smelling like fresh apples; so close, he could touch her hand,
just a few inches away; he could see the droop of her eyes, unhappy.
Her sometimes vacant stare.

He felt very badly like touching her hand, in comfort. He looked
at her hand, resting on the armrest of her chair, the slight trembling
of the fingers.

He placed his hand on hers, giving it a consoling squeeze. She looked
quickly at him, then at their hands.

"Chakotay, you have the bridge," she said quietly, then rose and
fled to her ready room.

"Aye...Captain..." he said, as he looked at her until she vanished
behind the doors of her sanctuary.

Chakotay didn't have to look at the officers on the bridge to know
that the exchange between him and Kathryn did not go unnoticed.
He sighed. So what else is new, on a starship the size of Voyager
somewhere in the Delta Quadrant?

But he decided nonetheless to feed some more grist to Voyager's
rumour mill. He got up, went to Tuvok, said:

"Commander, you have the bridge, and with that he strode quickly
down the step, and pressed the chime of the ready room door.

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

In a characteristic pose, Kathryn Janeway was sitting on her couch,
elbow on its backrest, thumb under her chin, forefinger against her
temple, in a deeply contemplative gesture. She was staring, looking 
through the viewing portal at...nothing.

She didn't even hear Chakotay enter.

"Kathryn."

Only then she turned around to look at him. Chakotay thought his 
heart could break in those moments he looked at her.

He seated himself next to her, and took her hand in his.

"You can tell me, Kathryn."

"What is there to tell, Chakotay? He's gone. I'm... here."

"And I'm here, Kathryn," he said softly.

She sighed.

"I - " and she seemed to consider her next words, "have these dreams.
Of him. They are..."  she struggled to speak then, he could see her
throat working, and her eyes fill with tears.

"You want him with you in those moments?"

"Yes," she said so softly, he could almost not hear her.

"Come here," he said, and drew her into his embrace. There he held
her, so close, her hair just under his chin, his hand cupping
her head. He could feel almost the second she started to cry
softly. And he let her. Until all her tears were spent.

"I need you, Chakotay, with me..."

"I know Kathryn," he said, silently thanking his father for being
correct, as always.

She looked at him, a profusion of emotion playing across her
features. Then she talked.

"He...affected me more than I thought, Chakotay. More than I
thought," she repeated. "I - dream of him... and - and the dreams...
they are...they are - "

"Erotic?"

Her blue eyes were darkened with shame, he thought, as if she didn't 
want those dreams - fantasies, he thought.

She nodded. Not wanted to say it out loud.

"He was an exotic creature, Kathryn. I don't think you can blame 
yourself for being drawn to him."

"I want to forget, Chakotay. Help me. You are right now... 
my only...constant."

"Kathryn," looking into her face, then taking her hand, lacing her 
fingers with his, much like they did on New Earth, "you remember when 
we laced our fingers like this, so long ago?"

She nodded. A smile at last spreading over her features. He gave
a sigh of relief.

"Your warrior swore he'd be by your side forever, Kathryn. He's
still here, if you'll have him," he whispered to her, then waited.

She looked long into his face, then touched his face, her fingers
tracing his tattoo, going over each line. Chakotay watched
her face, saw how very, very gradually the storm inside Kathryn
was abating.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't more of what I promised then, Kathryn."

"Chakotay, I'm sorry that I didn't encourage you to be more
than what you promised."

"I want to be now, Kathryn. More than what I promised. Be there,
always."

"I - " she frowned, then looked at him, as if a thought struck at
her like lightning, "want you to be. Very much."

"So you want me to drive away your demons?"

"Dinner in my quarters, Commander."

"And who knows what, afterwards," he stated.

"Yes..."

Chakotay wished he could take her right there, as she pressed 
herself against his broad chest, then lifted her face to him. He 
kissed her deeply, her arms going round his neck, her mouth opening 
under his. He was breathing heavily, then he pulled suddenly away 
from her.

"Kathryn, you have fifteen minutes to collect yourself and take the
bridge."

With that he got up and strode out of the ready room. Leaving a 
gaping Kathryn Janeway still staring for long moments at the door.
He loves me, she realised with wonder. He loves me. He didn't have
to say a single word. She smiled, touching her lips with trembling
fingers.


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


This time it was the second movement of the Mahler symphony playing.
She was pressed back against the pillows. Her body was on fire,
tingling in every fibre. Already she could feel the familiar 
slickness between her legs, and she knew she was wet. And he had not
even touched her.

Again, the music moved her, the mood changing in the lilting melody,
the woodwinds and trumpets' theme being taken by the rare showing
of the strings. He loomed over her, saying:

"My love, do you want me distract you?" he asked, his eyes smiling.

"Oh yes... distract me...love me..." Her plea was soft, thready.

"Then let me love you, Kathryn. We'll have a night to remember."

"Yes... she pleaded again, as she guided his hands to the thin
straps of her gown. And oh, so inordinately gently, he hooked his
fingers under the straps and slipped it over her shoulders. He pulled 
it down, and exposed her breasts, the nipples erect, and inviting. 
She gasped, and he looked long at her, then pulled the gown off her 
completely.

He took his fill of her, looking like a thirsty man, his fingers
caressing her smooth, milky skin, going over her breasts, resting
at her hips. Then he cupped her face on both hands, his face very
close to hers.

"I love you, Kathryn Janeway," he whispered raggedly, then lowered
his head to her breasts. He moved over her, parting her legs,
capturing her hands above her head. His mouth covered one nipple,
took the other in turn, moving down, till his face rested at her
centre. Her breathing became shallow, and ragged. Her breasts heaved,
rising and falling. Like a soft cadenza.

It was the music in her head, and almost in harmonious counterpoint, 
her body moved to receive him, allowing him inside her. She welcomed 
his strong thrusts, filling her so completely. He groaned as she
moved her hips and arched her back, to move hard with him.

She moved with him, gasping as she felt herself nearing the edge. 

She raised her legs high around him, so that he plunged deep into
her, pounding, like the beat of the tympani. Again the music
reached a crescendo, higher and higher, faster and faster, each
beat, each separate rhythm and melody working together to crash
once again to the sound of resounding cymbals.

She screamed his name then as she crashed over the edge.

The movement stayed suspended, then came down softly, diminuendo
to its end, and only the soft echo of the woodwinds remaining.

Kathryn opened her eyes and looked at her lover, his face suffused
with peace.

"I love you, Chakotay."

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

Tom Paris stood outside the quarters of Captain Kathryn Janeway,
with a smug smile. Word had it that the Captain and First Officer
kissed and made up. Well, the entire crew breathed a huge sigh of 
relief. That was only a week ago. Now, to everybody's surprise? 
Expectation? their two most senior officers were no longer dancing 
carefully around each other. He just wondered what it was that 
turned the tide so dramatically. For dramatic it was. Way back, 
when the two of them were stranded on New Earth, they rather 
expected the Captain and First Officer to make an announcement 
somewhere in Voyager's future. But at the time, and contrary to 
what everyone thought, nothing happened. Nothing of note on New 
Earth, they said, and nothing subsequently. In fact, the opposite 
was rather true then. For a very long time, relations between 
their commanding officers had been even more strained than before 
they were stranded on New Earth. And that was something which almost
every romantic crew member had hoped: that these two great 
personalities would make a life together. Instead, stories filtered 
through to every deck about the legend of the Angry Warrior. Seeing 
as nothing happened between the Captain and the Commander then, these
legends were never given substance, except in some people's fertile 
imagination. Courtesy a la Neelix. They were all quite sorry, and 
word had it that it was the Captain who was holding out. The 
Commander was all ready to dispel the theory of any angry warrior and 
let legend become reality.

How disappointed most of them were. Especially as they thought that 
the Captain was letting such unimportant things like duty and 
command stand in the way of complete happiness. Yes, and everytime 
they came across a new or alien race, and made first contact, they 
surmised  that their dear Captain, made more than first contact than 
in the conventional sense. No one liked what was then happening, but 
the more prurient would always add some more lascivious label to the 
captain's intentions with her so-called first contact. And always, so 
the crew agonised, she left her angry warrior bereft of those 
attentions she so sometimes generously awarded to some handsome 
alien.

Yes, the haunting lament of the First Officer's torch song could be 
heard day after day. Particular since they left Devore space. Tom 
thought privately that even on a mighty starship, gossip can be the 
only sustenance for many. And gossip was rife that the Captain lost 
her heart, in a manner of speaking to that alien (creep - as many 
referred to him) Kashyk. Who, of course did not deserve the Captain's 
attention, much less her love. What then of our dear First Officer, 
then? The one who was the confidant of many crew members. The one was 
who Voyager's in loco counsellor. He of the incredibly sexy tattoo? 
Even she of the number name, failed to comprehend the Captain's
smittance with that man. That man. That was how many of the crew also 
called him. Never by his name. For in doing so, they might just give 
him identity and personality.

They were concerned that their First Officer might pine and die, so 
dejected he looked most of the time in the last month.

"She pushed him out of her life."

"No, that man took part of her with him."

"What then about the warrior?"

"Duty will stand in the way, once again."

"Hitching with aliens for a short period of time is non-threatening."

"They don't make demands on her."

"With her warrior she would have to commit herself to a RELATIONSHIP,"
most said. "That's why it's easier for her in these transient unions. 
They are literally ships that pass in the night.

One would have to be a complete dolt, and completely naive to imagine
that things aren't happening on this ship.

Now Tom Paris, sometime gossip extraordinaire, took his hat
off to the others spreading rumours around the ship. Fine, so
they kissed and made up. Let's hope we'll hear always more
positive news from these two. He was really glad to see Chakotay
smile again, and the Captain lose that melancholy air.

But he was here...he almost forgot what he was here for. He knocked,
and upon her invitation, entered.

"Captain." Tom stood, stiff as a ramrod.

"At ease, Tom," she smiled. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Captain, I wish to return a favour."

Kathryn Janeway looked at Tom Paris, and her heart almost burst with 
pride. This was the young man who not so long ago, after his demotion 
to ensign, became the target of some vicious crew, and was beaten to 
within an inch of his life. He held nothing against her, although 
relations were strained between them for a while. It had been as 
difficult for her as it was for him to begin the healing between 
them. Now, it could only go forward, as he himself told her not so 
long ago. She had presented him with a scale model of the Bounty, that 
18th century tall ship, a beautiful vessel under the command of 
Captain Bligh. It was not a peace offering as some might have thought, 
but the symbolic message lying in the relationship between Captain
Bligh and its First Officer, Mr Christian. Tom was quick to draw the 
analogy she wanted to express through her gift to him. She could still 
see Tom's utter fascination as he held the Bounty in his hands.

Now she looked at Tom, seeing the expectant look on his face.

"Well, what is it?" she asked.

"Captain, it is not my intention to rake up old memories, but I 
designed a holodeck programme for you. We - that is, B'Elanna and I, 
together with Harry and Susan Nicoletti, worked on this. You have to 
use it tomorrow night, at 2100."

"So Tom, what is this programme?"

He hesitated a fraction before he spoke.

"Captain, you remember when the Devore - " he saw her almost pained 
expression then said, "I'm sorry - "

"No, no, go ahead. It's nothing. I'm okay."

"Well, they played the Mahler Symphony. First and second movements."

"My favourite. I see Tom, some of what you learnt at home you 
remember," she said pleasantly surprised.

"I did some research, Captain. Mahler composed some years before that 
a song cycle, which was autobiographic in its theme. He incorporated 
the themes of every song into the four movements of the symphony. The 
first two speak, as it were of his happiness, the next two of his 
conflict, which at the end of the fourth movement, ends in victory, 
having come to peace within himself."

Tom paused. Then he held up a PADD. "The entire symphony is here,
Captain, for you to listen to tonight. But B'Elanna, Harry, Seven
and I invite you to attend a concert on the holodeck tomorrow at 
2100."

Tom looked at Kathryn Janeway, her expression of gratitude.

"Permission to speak freely Captain?"
 
"Go ahead Tom."

"This is my own opinion, which I share not even with B'Elanna. I'd
like to say that when the Devore were on Voyager with their Chief
Inspector, that it was an interlude. But you know interludes, 
Captain. They are just that. When its finished, it is finished.
Now, it's your intermezzo. A very pleasant one at that." 

"Tom, thank you so much!"
 
Tom almost bristled with pride. His Captain was smiling! That was
some progress now. He added:

"Captain, it's dress formal tomorrow night. Wear black..."
he whispered conspiratorially.


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


Kathryn Janeway walked down the corridor toward holodeck two. She was 
dressed in a long low cut black gown, held at her shoulder by two 
thin straps. It clung at her waist, then slinked to her ankles, 
rustling softly as she walked, on high heeled strap sandals. Her hair 
was brushed up, held by an ornate little black comb, and round her 
neck hung a diamond pendant, complemented by the matching diamond 
earrings. In a word, Captain Kathryn Janeway looked stunning.

She positively glided toward where Tom was waiting for her outside
the holodeck, looking very attractive in his black tuxedo.

"Captain."

"I'm ready, Tom. Surprise me."

"Don't worry about that, Captain. Not to worry."

Tom keyed in the code and the doors of the holodeck slid open.

Tom enjoyed the look of utter surprise on her face as she looked
around her. It was the foyer of the Vienna Concert Hall, and there,
in the corner, waiting for her, stood Chakotay. Looking so, so good
in his black tuxedo, white dress shirt with tiny gold pins in the
frill, a black bow tie. He smiled at her, a smile that reached his 
eyes, those incredible dimples and she thought her heart would burst.

Her eyes were indeed shining as he stepped forward, and took her 
hands in his. There was a message in his eyes. "I love you" it said. 
He leaned forward and kissed her on her cheek, careful not to smudge 
her make-up. When he hooked her arm in his, and proceeded toward the 
door, B'Elanna stepped forward. Dressed in a black trousers and white 
blouse. 

"I'm your usher," she said. "I'm working front of House. I get
to take you to your seat."

Tom had been standing by the panel, and the scene changed to the
auditorium of the Consertgebouw. Kathryn looked at Chakotay,
said nothing and just let the whole ambience of the evening take over.

B'Elanna showed them to their chairs, and they took their seats.

"Captain, Commander," she said, a broad smile on her face, enjoy the
evening."

With that she left. In fact, they were the only crew in the concert
hall. Tom had constructed, magnificently, the rest of the audience.
She looked at Chakotay. He squeezed her hand gently, said:

"I love you, Kathryn," and he leaned over and kissed her on the
mouth.

"I love you, Chakotay," she whispered.

They looked at the stage. Seated were the Berlin Philharmonic
Orchestra. In full strength. How on earth did Tom do this? she
wondered.

The members of the orchestra rose as the conductor walked on to stage 
to take his place on the podium. A tall, white haired gentleman 
dressed magnificently in tails, walked to the centre, stood next 
to the  dais, and bowed to the audience. Then he stood on the dais,
and faced his orchestra, his appearance excessively dignified. 
Imperious. He took his baton, his hands raised slightly in front of 
him. 

On the instant the baton made its first, almost imperceptible
movement, Herbert Von Karajan guided the Berlin Philharmonic
Orchestra into  the first strains of Symphony No.1 by Gustav Mahler.

THE END

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