Story by Janet and Christina Written by Janet, Christina, Cybermum, Diane, Julie, Mary, Penny, and Rocky Compiled by Janet
Prologue
The question and answer session had been going on for far too long already, and Kira Nerys, the current commandant of Deep Space Nine, was rapidly running out of patience. She very pointedly ignored the hand waving energetically in her face for the umpteenth time. Kira wondered how the woman could manage to continue doing that, virtually without a break, for over an hour. Her own shoulder muscles ached in sympathy.
She saw others in the small gathering, mostly Bajorans, who had barely asked any questions at all. She recognized Tal Ceres, Tal Luji, and Tal Sheron, mother and sisters of the Bajoran engineer, but had not heard anything at all from any of them. Gerron Malyn, the grandmother and last living relative of the young Maquis, had been just as silent; Kira could hardly be surprised at that. Still she'd love to respond to someone else's question rather than subject everyone to another from the petite Earth woman in the first row. Fortunately, the mother of one of Voyager's engineers chose that moment to raise her hand.
"You have a question, Tabor Audran?" Kira asked.
"Will we have time to hold this memorial service for Liberty's lost Bajoran crew members before Voyager is ordered to return to Earth?" she asked.
"Yes, we will. We've been assured by Starfleet Command that Voyager will remain at the station long enough for the planned memorial service, as well as for a big parade of celebration on Bajor. Vedek Capril is preparing the memorial service at the shrine." Kira gestured in the general direction of the station shrine's vedek, standing to Kira's right. The vedek took his cue and bowed formally to the group. "Establishing a firm date and time for both of these events will be at the top of my agenda as soon as Voyager docks. As soon as I know when it will be, I'll have it posted to the newsnet. I'm sure you won't be able to escape that news even if you tried!"
Kira looked around again as the crowd chuckled, trying to find someone else to call upon besides the mother of Harry Kim. She was still waving her hand as energetically as a teacher's pet. That didn't surprise Kira either. Mary Kim had informed everyone who stopped to listen to her for five seconds that she was a fourth-grade school teacher on sabbatical, touring Bajor and DS9. Since the area's tourist trade had hardly recovered from the impact of the Dominion War, Mrs. Kim's true motive was transparent--not that she withheld that fact from anyone, either. Since DS9 had been the last port of call before her son Harry Kim and his crew mates on Voyager landed in the Delta Quadrant, Mrs. Kim thought it only logical the ship would return to the station before flying home to Earth.
Mrs. Kim's vigil for her son was truly touching, although Kira would have been far more sympathetic if the woman hadn't shown up at Ops, or Kira's quarters, or the security office daily over the past two months, wanting to know if anyone had heard when Voyager would arrive. Kira had been ready to strangle Mrs. Kim on more than one occasion.
Two weeks ago, Kira had been informed that Mrs. Kim's assumption had been proven correct. Voyager was to stop at DS9 on its way to Earth, with an ETA of one week. Kira also knew the starship's delayed arrival was due to damage sustained when Voyager had come out of the slipstream drive at the wrong coordinates, in the Badlands. Why they had arrived at this location instead of the general vicinity of DS9 was the mystery. All Kira knew at this point was that she wasn't supposed to say anything about it to anyone, particularly the voluble Mrs. Kim. Kira could accept this, however. If anyone Kira had ever encountered was more likely to be a security risk, she couldn't think who it might be at the moment.
Kira sighed as she exchanged glances with Lieutenant Ro Laren. The station's current security officer was standing to her left. Ro shrugged her shoulders, and Kira caved in; she couldn't avoid responding to the woman from Earth any longer. "Yes, Mrs. Kim?"
Mrs. Kim opened her mouth to ask, for what Kira was sure would be the one hundred twenty-third time: "When Voyager arrives, when will the families be able to go on board to be reunited with their loved ones?"
To which Kira would respond (for the one hundred twenty-third time), "I don't know. That's up to Captain Janeway, and she hasn't let me know yet." Kira's combadge sounded, however, cutting off Mrs. Kim's "Wh..."
"Excuse me," Kira replied, with a Cheshire Cat smile, "I need to answer this."
"Saved by the beep," Ro murmured softly as Kira turned away to respond to her hail.
::Colonel, we're in contact with Voyager. Captain Janeway wishes to speak with you:: said Lieutenant Tovan from Ops.
"Excellent. Patch me through."
::Colonel Kira? Captain Janeway here.::
The eruption of applause in the background prevented Kira from answering until the noise subsided enough for her to say, "Welcome home to the Alpha Quadrant, Captain! I'm with a group of relatives of your crew. They're all extremely glad to hear from you. May I help you with anything?"
Janeway's pause before answering this simple question was long enough to tip off Kira that Voyager's captain was not pleased Kira had a crowd near her. ::Nothing comes to mind at the moment. I just wanted to inform you to expect us in about eight more hours...::
Over the groans of disappointment from the relatives standing behind her, Kira replied, "Understood, Captain. I guess you can hear I've got some very impatient people here waiting for you."
::As long as they've been waiting, they deserve to feel impatient. They're no more impatient for us to get home than we are.::
"I'm certain that's true. Everyone is well on Voyager?"
::Everyone is very well, I can assure you of that. I've sent some additional messages to your Ops officer for you to read at your convenience, Colonel. I'll contact you again as soon as a more precise arrival time can be established.::
"I appreciate that, Captain. It's good to hear your voice."
::Good to hear yours as well, Colonel Kira. Janeway out.::
A spontaneous celebration broke out among the relatives as Kira broke the connection. A few non-relatives, mostly news media representatives, ran out of the room, undoubtedly hoping to "scoop" their compatriots on the story: "Voyager's Captain Contacts DS9--Crew Doing Fine and on Their Way Home!"
Kira waited for the commotion to die down a bit before finishing her address to the group, all the while wondering what was in those private messages. Confidential missives sent out via subspace just before a happy homecoming usually contained bad news, especially the kind Kira would be forced to pass on before the docking. Disturbing, especially when the still-unexplained delay in the ship's arrival was factored into the equation. Janeway had specifically reassured her everyone was all right, but Kira had to hear those messages to be sure, immediately, if not sooner.
"Well, everyone, I think that does it for now. Thank you for attending this..."
"Colonel Kira! My question! You haven't heard it yet!" Mrs. Kim broke in.
"You're right, Mrs. Kim," Kira acknowledged, bracing herself for the onslaught the woman from Earth was bound to unleash. "I know I said I'd ask Captain Janeway when you could meet with your son on Voyager as soon as she contacted us, but I'm sure you noticed I didn't have a chance..."
"That wasn't my question, Colonel. I wanted to ask about the memorial service on the station. Why is it that only the lost Maquis will be remembered? What about the Bajoran crewmen who lost their lives on Voyager, and on Equinox, too, when they were dragged into the Delta Quadrant by this Caretaker being? Shouldn't they be memorialized, too? In fact, what about all of those lost in the Delta Quadrant, of any species? Why can't the memorial service remember them all?"
Kira stood there, stunned to silence by the very appropriate questions that, to Kira's knowledge, no one else had broached.
Ro was Kira's savior. "Interesting points, Mrs. Kim. I'm sure Vedek Capril will be happy to speak to you about them." Mrs. Kim's head swiveled to follow Ro's pointing finger. Vedek Capril again bobbed his head to draw the attention of the Earth woman to him. Mrs. Kim began to walk in his direction.
Just when Kira thought she had the woman figured out...
And then Mrs. Kim halted in her tracks, craned her head back over her shoulder, and said, "But next time you talk to Captain Janeway, you will ask her when the families will be able to go on board..."
"Absolutely! First question!" Kira whipped out as rapidly as she could.
"That's one hundred twenty-one," Ro mumbled through her grin.
"Twenty-three," Kira corrected automatically.
"Not that you're counting, of course," Ro replied.
"Of course not," Kira sighed wearily.
She couldn't wait for Voyager to get here--so it could go away again--so they all could get on with their lives.
Act One
"Docking clamps engaged, Captain," Harry Kim called out, his voice several decibels louder than usual. "Voyager has arrived at Deep Space Nine!"
Tom Paris didn't need to swivel his head around to know the reactions of the bridge crew. His grin broadened as they hooted, called out, clapped, and in one notable case, laughed out loud behind him. There was only one throat that raspy, almost evil, yet still feminine sound of glee could have come.
As his fingers sped over the controls, closing off circuits and navigational sensors, Tom felt a surge of adrenaline rushing through his body with every tap of a digit upon smooth plastic. Deep Space Nine. Back where they began. Full circle.
Well, not exactly. Not for Thomas Eugene Paris. It seemed a lifetime ago a certain "Starfleet observer" was told by Captain Kathryn Janeway his services would be appreciated upon her ship-- but not at the helm. Oh, no. His pleas that he was the best pilot she could ever have had fallen on deaf ears until fate snatched them all 70,000 light years away--or at least, those who had survived the trip. Sadly, the original pilot, Benara Stadi, was not one of the fortunate ones, giving Tom his chance to take the helm, and to be sitting here now as the starship Voyager reached the point from which she had flown off into adventure in the Delta Quadrant.
Tom's hand paused a moment, hovering over one of the pads that Stadi's fingers had stroked eight years before, as he visualized her as she'd looked during the last leg of his trip from Earth to Deep Space Nine. God, he'd always had a weakness for dark-eyed brunettes! Tom could still remember how he'd hit on her in the shuttle. At least she'd shot him down very gently. He'd been such a dog in those days!
At the time, he would have pretended it didn't hurt even if she'd been vicious about the way she turned him down, but the Betazoid pilot had been a good soul with a playful sense of humor. Stadi had probably known what he was going to say before he'd opened his mouth. Finding her broken body slumped next to the helm after they'd been dragged to the Delta Quadrant by the Caretaker had been the first death to bring pain to him during Voyager's journey, if far from the last. To be perfectly honest, Stadi's death had been the first to pierce the walls of brittle indifference he'd so carefully built during the years of his disgrace to touch his heart for a very long time.
As Tom shut down the last operational control, he felt her immaterial presence, even if it were only in his memory, and embraced it.
His reverie was broken by a shadow falling over the helm station. "You're uncharacteristically silent for such a momentous occasion, Mr. Paris," Kathryn Janeway teased lightly. "No words of wisdom?"
Tom opened his mouth, ever ready for a glib bon mot, but he hesitated before actually speaking. Maybe that was why he discarded the quick joke he was about to utter and admitted what he was really thinking. "I was thinking about the first occupant I knew who sat in this chair, Captain. We've come full circle-- some of us, that is."
Janeway gently patted Tom on the shoulder. "I'd say it was more like a hundred and eighty degrees of a circle in your case, Tom."
He chuckled lightly. "Thank you, Captain. But you know, despite everything, I wish Stadi were here with us to enjoy this moment, too."
"As do I." She gave Tom one more tap on the upper arm, a little brisker than the previous one, adding, "And since you won't be responsible for any navigational duties right away, would you care to be one of the senior staff members accompanying Commander Chakotay and myself out to the docking bay? I understand you might be familiar with one of the DS9 staff who will be coming to meet us."
An image of his father leaped into Tom's brain, but he suppressed it immediately. Admiral Paris, coming all this way to meet Voyager when they'd come to Earth to see him as soon as the repairs to the ship were finished? Not likely! He pushed away any more speculation, deciding he'd be better off finding out by going that imagining who it might be, and answered, "I'd love to, Captain, but I want to check in with B'Elanna first. Not that I'll be able to pry her out of Engineering for hours, but ..."
Janeway nodded understandingly. "We won't be leaving for about five minutes. You've got time."
"Thank you, Captain," Tom said with a sincere smile. Although she could take these simple words simply for giving him permission to speak to his wife or asking him to accompany her as part of her party at the docking ring, in his own mind they resonated with a much broader expression of gratitude to his captain for helping him make a personal about-face between the time of that last visit to Deep Space Nine to this one.
Now, as long as his captain wasn't the only one who held that opinion in Starfleet, his "one hundred and eighty degree change" might hold up all the way home to Earth.
#
Although B'Elanna Torres and her engineering staff were absent, bound and determined to get Voyager's engines in shape now that they could be shut down completely, and Harry Kim and Tuvok were remaining on board in support to supervise the skeleton bridge crew, most of her department heads gathered around Kathryn Janeway near the main entry hatch, ready to disembark with all due ceremony at their first true port-of- call in the Alpha Quadrant. A whole list of cliches, including such gems as "This is it," "Back where we started," "We're home, Commander" and the ever-popular, "Home again," popped one after the other into her mind. She discarded every one of them. Instead, she settled upon a nod to her first officer, who did the honors.
"Open the hatch, Mr. Ayala." As Tuvok's second in command in the Security/Tactical Department did as instructed, Janeway and Chakotay stood quietly as the heavy, metal plated door glided out into the sizable docking ring air lock. Janeway led the group out into the airlock, followed by Chakotay, Megan Delaney of Astrometrics, Samantha Wildman, who was representing the sciences, Lieutenant Rollins, the EMH, Tom Paris, and Ayala. The iris separating the rest of Deep Space Nine from the air lock. Two orange-clad figures stood in the pylon corridor.
"Welcome to Deep Space Nine," one of the women said, holding out her hand for Janeway to shake.
"Thank you, Colonel," Janeway replied. "It's very *very* good to be here."
"My security officer, Lieutenant Ro Laren of the Bajoran militia," Kira introduced. The name, of course, was not unknown to Janeway, but she shook the lieutenant's hand firmly. "A pleasure."
Ro crinkled her brow, but any comment she might have made in response was drowned out by Paris' shouted, "Ro? Ro Laren! I can't believe it!"
"You don't have to shove me back inside Voyager in your haste to depart," the Doctor sniffed.
"Sorry," Tom mumbled incontritely, stepping between Megan Delaney and Rollins.
Chakotay took back the hand he was about to offer Lieutenant Ro as Tom rushed passed him.
"It's good to see you, too, Tom," Ro said, making a stab at maintaining appropriate protocol by shaking both his hands before shrugging and giving him a quick hug instead. Kira took a step back, the look of astonishment on her face matching that of the rest of the onlookers, with one notable exception.
"Lieutenant Paris and Ro were at the Academy together. I understood they were quite close friends there," Janeway explained, rather smugly. Her love of research had paid off again.
Ro and Tom stepped back from each other, both saying, "Sorry," to their respective commanders at the same time.
"No apologies needed, Lieutenants," Janeway said. "I think we're going to have to throw protocol to the winds at times, considering how emotional many of our reunions are bound to be now that we're back home in the Alpha Quadrant. Now, that has quite a nice ring to it, doesn't it, Commander?" She grinned broadly at her first officer.
"It does indeed," Chakotay said, as he introduced the rest of the assembled officers to Kira and Ro and the party began a slow stroll down the pylon towards the heart of Deep Space Nine, the Promenade. Janeway was well aware that the smile pasted upon Chakotay's face was not quite as dazzling as many that Janeway had seen over the years. She understood; her own feelings were far more unsettled than she was allowing herself to show.
She had no personal feelings one way or other towards Lieutenant Ro, who had been in tossed out of Starfleet, brought back into the fold, and then turned her back on Starfleet voluntarily in the face of her personal convictions to join the Maquis. Her history was reminiscent of her old friend Tom Paris in more ways than one, yet now here she was, in a position of responsibility on Deep Space Nine. She had survived, rehabilitating herself through courage and more than a little luck. That Janeway recognized and accepted Ro's transformation was telling. The captain who had left Deep Space Nine eight years ago in hot pursuit of Chakotay's Maquis ship would have had a very different, far more judgmental attitude towards the Bajoran if they'd met back then.
Now, as she overheard Tom Paris relating Miral's latest antics of and promising he'd drag his wife away from her engines that night, somehow, so Ro could join the family for dinner, Janeway found herself hoping desperately that Ro Laren's presence as one of those greeting Voyager's crew today was a good omen. If Ro Laren could win respect because of her courageous actions, couldn't--shouldn't--her own crew? Maquis and Equinox survivors alike?
She would like to think so, yet in her heart, she feared the Bajoran government was considerably more forgiving than Starfleet and the Federation were likely to be. Still, she had to play out the entire act, follow all the procedures, fight as hard as she could if need be, and hope for the best. For Kathryn Janeway, there was no other alternative.
#
Ro had instructed her station security forces to keep the main corridor of the pylon where Voyager had docked, including the area where it emptied out into the Promenade, as clear as possible. Although Kira had asked the Ops crew not to publicly announce that Voyager had reached the station, anyone looking out one of the observation ports could watch the procedure. There was no way to know how quickly the word would spread, or what the reaction would be. The pylon corridors were too narrow to allow them to become clogged up with crowds of the curious. Considering how feelings might be running for--or against--the returning Maquis on Voyager, impeding the ability of those whose ships had docked further along the same pylon free access to their own ships was not something Ro or Kira wanted to risk. Adding a large dose of high feeling into overcrowded conditions was a recipe for a riot.
Fortunately, Ro's staff had done an excellent job. When the small clump of senior officers from Voyager and the station reached the place where the Promenade truly began, there were only a few people standing in small groups. Her people unobtrusively passed through, gently asking the onlookers if they needed any assistance to get where they wished to go, to encourage the clots of people to disperse. Ro waved a few times to her people in approval. She was proud of her staff. It wasn't easy finding people with the experience and skills needed to work on the busy station, and Ro appreciated their high levels of performance. Her predecessor Odo had done a terrific job training them, and she had made maintaining such lofty standards a priority since she had assumed the position as security chief.
While Kira and Ro had expected the group to keep moving along to Kira's office at Ops, the reaction of Janeway and her officers at the first sight of the Promenade altered her plan. "It's so...familiar!" Tom said, as he halted in front of the first storefront next to the corridor.
"Oh, there have been plenty of changes. Garak's shop is closed, of course, and I don't remember if the Qapla' was open yet the last time you were here," Kira remarked.
"I remember that bar over there very well," Tom laughed. "That's where I met Harry for the first time. Had to rescue him from the propietor."
"I spend a lot of time there rescuing people from Quark's schemes," Ro agreed. "Too much time! I think he sets some of them up just to get me in there so he can flirt with me."
"Lieutenant Ro," the Doctor said brightly, "would you like to hear about the time I transformed Neelix into a Ferengi so he could go...Counselor Troi! And Commander Riker! How lovely to see you again so soon."
Ro turned her head. Deanna Troi was, indeed walking towards them, next to a very tall, very bearded, and very familiar first officer. "It's wonderful to see you here, too, Doctor."
Troi walked over to the Doctor and gave him a quick hug as everyone else--almost everyone else--exchanged greetings.
"Do you know everyone here?" As he released Counselor Troi, the Doctor surveyed the group expectantly, looking for someone to introduce. "Colonel Kira? Lieutenant Ro?"
"Doctor," Janeway warned, with a touch of the glare Kira had told Ro about, when they'd first heard that Voyager was to dock at Deep Space Nine.
"Oh, sorry. Introductions would be your prerogative, Captain, or Colonel Kira's."
Riker had halted his progress a little distance from Ro, with Deanna safely between the two of them. He was stroking his beard, a broad, if slightly contemplative smile upon his face, as the EMH took a step backward, ceding the center of the group to Janeway. The silence of the group continued for an awkward length of time before Ro tossed her head slightly and explained, "Commander Riker and I are well acquainted from my days of service on the Enterprise-D."
"Ah, then, you're old friends and shipma..." The EMH looked at Tom, who was clearing his throat emphatically, which Ro remembered him doing years ago when they were still at the Academy together when he wanted her to change the subject. The EMH could not fail to notice that the rest of the group were all pointedly avoiding meeting each other's eyes. He finally said, "I, uh, stand corrected. You must *not* be old friends, precisely, but you still are old shipmates..." Tom's rasping became even louder. "Hmm. Kes must have missed this scenario when she programmed my old lessons in social situations."
It was remarkable how much like Barclay the EMH sounded, Ro thought. Must have something to do with the effects of spending so much time on the holodeck. She decided to rescue him again. "Doctor, Commander Riker and I are old shipmates. It's just been a while since the Commander and I last were together--and that time, I had the business end of a phaser aimed at his solar plexus. I was defecting to the Maquis. Not the best way to say 'see you later,' if you know what I mean."
As she finished her explanation to the Doctor, Ro took a very deep breath and turned to face Riker. One good thing about the Doctor's good natured blundering was it gave her a chance to say something she'd been wanting to say for a long time. Before she could say anything to Riker, however, he interrupted her. "Lieutenant, in the interests of maintaining the present good relationship between Starfleet and Bajor, let's just say we've both had cause to wish certain past decisions never were made, or were made very differently--and leave it at that. I'm certain Captain Picard would tell you the same if he were here now."
Riker respectfully tipped his head in Ro's direction. She returned the gesture. Kira jumped in, quite literally, stepping between Ro and Riker, saying, "Well, now that we've discussed old times sufficiently, shall we go to Ops? I have several things I'd like to go over in a less public place."
Ro looked around again. While she and Riker were having their uncomfortable moment, the group had drawn quite a crowd, exactly what she'd hoped to avoid.
As the group began to move towards Ops and Ro's security forces slowly moving into position around their perimeter to keep the outsiders at bay, Janeway asked, "Colonel, have you had the opportunity to speak with a Commander Craig about what we can and cannot discuss?"
Neither Ro nor Kira could completely contain the small groan that escaped from their lips. "Via subspace, yes. How did you manage to keep him from coming out of Voyager along with you."
"We had some communication problems during the last stage of our trip, and he had a large number of priority messages from Starfleet Command he had to review," Chakotay said, his face held in a perfectly serious mask. Ro would have taken the comment at face value if Tom hadn't sniggered immediately afterwards.
#
The small woman spotted the group she was looking for almost immediately upon entering the Promenade. They were at the far end of the rotunda, having just exited the docking link, and although they were obviously deeply involved in conversation, Mrs. Kim didn't hesitate for a moment. She clutched the precious parcel she had been carrying almost constantly for the past few months to her breast and made her way towards them with the same determination she had exhibited since she'd found out Voyager and those upon her had somehow survived the disaster in the Badlands and were on their way back from the Delta Quadrant. As far as she was concerned, his ship was finally home, and she was going to see Harry. Now.
"Excuse me, please," she said, as she brushed by a young Bolian woman carrying a small child, and shouldered her way through a group of cadets walking four abreast down the center of the Promenade.
"Lieutenant Laren, Colonel Kira," Mrs. Kim called, waving and gesturing at them almost before she was within earshot.
"Oh, no," Kira sighed in resignation. "I should have known."
"Is that who I think it is?" Ro sighed without turning around.
Chakotay, who was facing the Promenade, raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Mrs. Kim," Kira greeted her, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
Mary Kim ignored her and moved right into the midst of the group to stand directly in front of Kathryn Janeway. She set her package down at her feet and proffered a hand to the Captain, who took it and shook it firmly.
"Mrs. Kim, it's so good to meet you at last," Janeway said. "I know how anxious you must be to see your son, and I'm sure we can arrange that fairly quickly."
"Captain!" Mrs. Kim continued shaking Janeway's hand vigorously. "Captain, you've brought my Harry back to me."
"Mrs. Kim..." But Mary Kim, who was obviously in a highly emotional state, suddenly let go of Janeway's hand and engulfed the astonished Captain in an enthusiastic hug.
Megan Delaney, who was standing directly behind Janeway, snickered.
Michael Ayala stood at attention and averted his eyes.
Tom Paris, who thought he'd seen just about everything, knew he would never forget the look on Janeway's face, and wished with all his heart B'Elanna was there with him to share this particular moment.
Chakotay, who realized anything he did or said would only make matters worse, showed admirable restraint, and with great difficulty suppressed the laughter that threatened to overwhelm him. The glare Kathryn shot his way did not help his self-control in the least.
The EMH fumbled with his camera, but upon catching a glimpse of the look on the Captain's face decided that perhaps this particular scene was one which would remain unrecorded.
Ro clutched at Mrs. Kim's elbow and tried to remove her, but to everyone's surprise, once the initial shock had worn off, Kathryn Janeway waved the Lieutenant away and returned the woman's hug with, if not quite the same enthusiasm, genuine warmth.
Finally, after what seemed forever to those surrounding her, the Captain gently removed herself from Mrs. Kim's embrace. She tapped at her combadge.
"Janeway to Lieutenant Kim."
::Yes, Captain?:: Mrs. Kim put her hand over her heart in response to the sound of her long lost son's voice.
"Please join us on the Promenade just outside the docking link."
::Yes, Ma'am,:: Harry responded immediately.
Janeway turned to Mary. "He'll be here in just a moment. In the meantime, I'd like to introduce you to Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Paris..."
"Tom Paris!" Mrs. Kim interrupted her. "You are Harry's good friend. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. How is your excellent wife? And your lovely daughter?" She greeted Voyager's pilot, who although speechless, reached out and shook the hand she offered him.
"Commander Riker, Deanna Troi." Mrs. Kim smiled at them. "I have seen both of you many times on the newsvids." She studied Riker for a moment. "You know," she continued, "you are much better looking in person, Commander."
"Thank you..." Riker replied. "I think," he added almost under his breath to Troi, who choked back her laughter with difficulty.
"And you," she turned to address the EMH, "are the hologram." She moved forward, not, he suddenly realized, to shake his hand, but to touch him, obviously wanting to see if he was solid. The Doctor jumped back quickly, managing to avoid the contact.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Madam. I too assure you your son is most anxious to see you." He said, echoing the Janeway's earlier words. "As a matter of fact," the Doctor gestured towards the corridor leading from the docking pylon, "I believe I see him now."
Mary Kim turned around to face in the same direction as the Doctor and caught sight of her son at almost the same time he spotted her.
"Mom. Mom!" Harry shouted, and broke into a run, waving and grinning at his mother, who, to the surprise of all those around her, stood rooted to the spot, unwilling, or more likely, unable to utter a sound.
Harry arrived at the group, and without thought to protocol or procedure, lifted his mother off the ground in an embrace that she returned with great fervor.
"Harry. Oh my. Harry." Mrs. Kim, finally overcome, burst into tears.
"Mom." Suddenly remembering where he was and who was watching, Harry tried valiantly to comfort his mother. "Mom, it's so great to see you. Please stop crying."
Mary Kim nodded and took a deep sniffling breath. "I'm all right now, son. It was just the moment, you know," She said, in explanation to the others, who had remained standing quietly during the reunion.
"We understand completely Mrs. Kim," Janeway said, obviously touched. "Take your time."
Mrs. Kim, nodded, and suddenly started to look around frantically. "Where, is it? Where...? Oh. There." She bent down to retrieve her bundle, which had ended up behind her in the melee. She handed it to Harry.
"I've been waiting for eight years to give this to you, son. You forgot it when you left."
Harry took the package from his mother, his eyes suddenly glistening. "Mom. It's not...?"
"Open it, Harry." She stood and waited as he did as he was told.
"My clarinet. The Clausen-Wang." Harry fingered the keys gently. "You had it oiled."
"The keys and the bore. And there are three new reeds in the bottom of the case," Mrs. Kim replied.
"Why don't you take your mother on board Voyager, Lieutenant," Janeway suggested, and Mrs. Kim nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion.
"Oh, yes Harry, I want to see Voyager. I want to see where you work, and Neelix, and Naomi, and your room and..."
"Yes, Ma'am." Janeway wasn't quite sure who Harry was answering at that point, and she suspected he wasn't either, but she nodded at him in response.
"Well... then you are dismissed, Lieutenant," she said, doing an admirable job of maintaining her composure.
"Ummm. Yes. Thank you Captain. Come on Mom, let's go." Harry bent down and gently replaced his clarinet in its case. He picked it up, and took his mother -- who was still talking -- by the elbow, turned her around and almost frog-marched her away from the group of officers, who at this point were all on the verge of laughter.
"Oh my," Kira said when she'd regained her composure. "That poor young man. How long do you think it's going to be before he applies for another deep space mission?"
"I don't know," Chakotay responded. "But I have a feeling Harry's going to get himself put on the fast track...."
"Fast!" Ro finished for him, to another round of laughter.
"We're laughing now," Janeway finally observed, "but perhaps we should also remember that within the next few weeks most of us will be experiencing reunions very similar to that one. And who knows how we'll react."
Kira smiled wryly. "As a matter of fact, a ship from Earth will be arriving within two days. I have it on good authority that the ship's passenger log includes a Mrs. Paris..." Tom winced, but his smile was broad, "and Mrs. Joseph Carey and her three sons..."
"And her two sons," Ayala corrected. "The third boy is mine!"
"That's wonderful!" Kira agreed, catching the tall man by the elbow. "I didn't realize that. Why don't you tell me all about him on the way to Ops."
"Very task oriented, isn't she?" Tom whispered to Ro as they squeezed through the loudly-buzzing crowd surrounding them.
"The good ones always are," Ro replied.
#
She had found an upturned storage barrel on a small metal platform on the mezzanine overlooking the Promenade and had been watching the goings on below her for well over an hour. She'd arrived on Deep Space Nine on one of the earliest transports. Starfleet had had the courtesy to notify her that Voyager was on the final leg of her journey home -- as well they should have, she thought wryly -- and she'd accepted their offer of immediate transport without hesitation. She'd also realized 'Fleet wanted to make sure she was 'unavailable to the press', and that having her on the station and under their watch, so to speak, was most likely their primary motivation. But she had no cause to complain -- she was exactly where she wanted to be.
The increased activity surrounding the prodigal ship's return had afforded her, a civilian, an unusual freedom to roam about the station and when she noticed the raised area at the back of the mezzanine she had decided it would be an excellent place to wait. She'd climbed up the rather rickety stairs at the back of the platform and pushed the barrel as far forward as she could. Surprisingly, shortly after she had settled herself into her current position, a young ensign had spotted her, and without asking had brought her a large mug of tea. He'd handed it up to her wordlessly, smiled and headed off quickly to continue with whatever it was he had been assigned to do.
She'd recognized a few faces from the newsvids; Kira Nerys and Ro Laren were familiar, as were Riker and Troi, of course. And there were several Voyager people as well. She watched scene after scene unfold, some predictable, others unexpected and one or two almost comical. She'd seen the paper pushers, the publicity people and the 'brass'. She'd seen one particularly warm reunion between a mother and son. But the figure she watched most -- could barely take her eyes from, in fact -- was Voyager's captain.
Kathryn Janeway was totally focused -- meeting and greeting, conferring, supervising, directing, comforting, ordering, and even, she thought, at one point doing a bit of reprimanding. Kathryn was smaller than she remembered (and she thought she remembered every detail) and at first glance appeared a little frail. Yet she also seemed almost larger than life. She obviously commanded great respect, even love from the crew who had served her for the past eight years and for the woman who watched her, this in itself was a reward beyond price.
She closed her eyes for a moment or two, reflecting upon the lost years, and the great gift this ship's return had given her. When she opened them the figure she had been watching so carefully had disappeared. She sighed, knowing she should get up, climb down from her perch and search out the proper authorities who would no doubt make sure she was afforded the treatment they thought she merited. But she didn't move, except to take a sip of her now almost chilled tea.
Finally, she straightened her shoulders and set the mug down. As she did she felt the platform shake almost imperceptibly beneath her. She didn't turn around, even when she heard the light step of someone approaching.
The bustle below faded instantly, every fiber of her being focused on the presence just behind her.
A hand -- she knew it before she felt it -- reached out and brushed her cheek as gently as any touch she'd ever felt.
"Mother?" Kathryn Janeway's voice was soft and full.
Gretchen turned and took her daughter into her arms, their tears mingling and falling unheeded on the cold metal floor.
#
Harry fell against the door to his quarters as it closed, heaving a sigh of relief. He was finally alone. No reporters, no curious onlookers, no officious Starfleet liaisons, and no inquisitive and over-protective mothers.
"Make way! Give my son room. He's a hero! Make way!"
Harry closed my eyes, remembering his mother's voice on the Promenade earlier as the crowd had made it difficult for them to pass. She meant well, and he loved her dearly. Almost nothing in the past eight years had felt as good--as right--as hugging her to him when he'd stepped out of the docking corridor to find her waiting on the Promenade. His heart had nearly overflowed with gratitude. He'd missed her, and his father, unbelievably.
He loved both his parents. Talking to his father via subspace and knowing he was so close now had been almost as emotional as hugging his mother. They'd been the best parents a kid could ever hope for, but he'd forgotten how persistent they could be, especially his mother. She'd ferreted out information from the VFA and other sources, and had come to a conclusion few others had--that Voyager would be arriving in the Federation via Deep Space Nine.
Harry chuckled wryly. He couldn't help but admire his mother's amazing tenacity. He imagined there were admirals from here to Earth who knew her name now, and shuddered when they heard it.
::Gilmore to Kim.::
Harry smiled, happy to hear Marla's voice. "Kim here."
::I heard you were back on board Voyager.::
"Yeah. I have some Ops reports to finish."
::Right.::
There was a small pause. They both knew everyone except the handful of officers manning the bridge was officially off duty for the rest of the day and evening.
"Okay, I had to get away from my mother for a few minutes. I already feel guilty."
::Why?::
Why? Harry shook his head. "I deserted my mother on Deep Space Nine."
Marla laughed softly. ::Harry, you showed her around Voyager, and you've been with her for the past several hours. Besides, she had the ingenuity to get to Deep Space Nine before we even arrived. I'd say she can take care of herself.::
"She *was* striking up a conversation with a Lurian named Morn when I left." His mother could strike up a conversation with a rock. If the conversation was one-sided, that was okay with her. But Harry did worry about her sometimes. He remembered now how trusting she could be around strangers, believing everyone was as straightforward as she was--
::Harry, your mother is obviously a very resourceful woman, and both your parents were terrific at their job. After all, look how you turned out.::
Harry chuckled at that. "You only met her for a minute, Marla. She hasn't had the chance to grill you yet."
He was joking, sort of, but the moment he said it he regretted it. He didn't want Marla to think his mother would judge her by her past and find her wanting. He didn't want to think it either. "Not that my mother will *grill* you; she's just the curious type. You don't have to answer any questions you don't want to--"
::Harry, it's all right.::
Marla didn't sound worried, though she could hide her feelings very well. "Are you sure you're up for dinner tonight?" Harry asked.
::Absolutely. I've always wanted to try real Klingon food.::
"My mom is looking forward to it too. Despite her presence here, she doesn't get off Earth very often." Harry frowned. "I still feel bad leaving her on the Promenade. I was so glad to see her here, but I was starting to feel smothered by her attention. I think she still sees me as a kid."
::Harry.:: Marla's voice had that reasonable tone she sometimes adopted. ::You were, what--twenty-two when you left on Voyager? So you *were* pretty much a kid when she last saw you. She just needs to get used to the fact that you've grown up.::
Maybe that was it. He'd spent all these years so desperate to get home, and to see his parents again. But it was different than he'd expected. The parents he'd left behind, who'd loved and supported him every single step of the way, who'd focused all their attention on him and had willingly made sacrifices to help him achieve his dreams--they hadn't changed. He had. Happy as he was to be home, much as he felt immense satisfaction knowing they were nearby, he didn't need them to guide him or run interference for him. He was his own person now, in a way he hadn't been when he'd left eight years ago.
As Marla said, he'd grown up.
::Hey, Harry. Still there?::
"Yeah. Thanks for the words of wisdom."
::Anytime. I'm still waiting to talk to my sister. The subspace channels to Earth are so clogged right now, I'll probably be here for another half hour. Have you made your call?::
That was the other reason Harry had returned to Voyager. He wanted a little more privacy than the communication booths on the station's noisy Promenade provided, and here he'd be able to use his senior officer status to get through directly to Earth. "I'm waiting too, but it should come through any minute."
::I won't keep you then. I just called to say...hello.::
Harry smiled. He liked that reason. "I'm glad you did."
::I'll see you in front of 'Qapla' ' at nineteen hundred hours.::
"Okay, but if you want to come to my quarters before then to escape all the pandemonium on the station..."
::You can't possibly be referring to all these polite and respectful reporters?::
Harry laughed at Marla's incredulous tone. They'd been warned not to talk, especially about the incident with the Romulans. Though he'd wondered briefly about Starfleet's sense of paranoia, he'd managed to evade the very dogged reporters who'd gotten word of Voyager's arrival, and he knew Marla had no trouble fending them off either.
::Anyway, I have a meeting with Lieutenant Torres at seventeen hundred hours to discuss repair procedures.::
Trust B'Elanna to keep on top of things, Harry thought, special day or not. "Okay, I'll see you in a couple of hours. I love you."
::I love you, too.::
There was a soft click as Marla disconnected. She'd sounded almost carefree, maybe because she was focusing on her reunion with her sister. Harry knew they had to talk soon about their future. Marla wanted to wait until they got back to Earth and found out just what Starfleet had in mind for them, but Commander Craig was being vague at best regarding when and how that might be decided. Harry didn't want to wait that long, and he couldn't see any reason why they should--
::U'Lanai to Kim.::
"Kim here," Harry answered the crewman currently manning the communications station on the bridge.
::I have your subspace reply coming in.::
"Put it through," Harry said as he moved to his desk console. "And thanks, U'Lanai"
::You're welcome, sir.::
A subspace origin identifier appeared on the screen--Copenhagen, Earth--and a moment later a fifty-ish woman with blonde hair appeared on the console screen. Her blue eyes held curiosity and a bit of trepidation. Clearly she hadn't expected the call, and her voice was soft and low as she spoke. ::I'm Irene Hansen.::
Harry smiled at her. "Hello, Mrs. Hansen. I'm Lieutenant Harry Kim."
Irene Hansen relaxed a little and smiled back. ::Ah, yes. Annika- -Seven, I mean--I'm afraid I still have trouble remembering her new name...she spoke of you in one of her letters. She said you were a fine young man and an excellent officer.::
Once he would have blushed at the compliment, but now he just said, "Seven was becoming a fine officer too, and she was a great asset to Voyager. Mrs. Hansen--"
::Please, call me Irene.::
"Irene," Harry amended obediently, "I know you haven't heard from Seven in quite some time."
::Not for over a year now. She sent me a brief letter in the datastream right before she left Voyager, informing me of her decision. Though I'm sorry she didn't come home with you, I know she made the choice she felt was right for her.::
Harry saw both regret and acceptance in Irene Hansen's gaze. "She did make the right choice." He believed that absolutely.
Irene's brief smile was grateful and a bit wistful. ::It's good to know you think so. I so much wanted to meet her--to know her again--my brother's little girl. But if she's happy, that is a comfort. Have you spoken with her since she left Voyager?::
"Yes. She contacted Voyager several times while we were still in range. Unfortunately, after we went back--after we had a slipstream mishap, we had a lot of communications problems and weren't able to reestablish contact."
::I do recall hearing Voyager was out of contact with Earth for several weeks.::
Harry nodded. "Since that time we haven't heard from Seven. During our last communication with her, she told us the colony was prospering. She also knew we expected to be home very soon, and she transmitted a letter for me to give to you."
::To me?::
Harry smiled at Irene's astonished look. "Yes. As much as you regret that you weren't able to meet her, I know she's also sorry she didn't get to meet you."
::I...didn't know. She was always so formal in her letters. Very polite, but she didn't reveal much of her feelings.::
"It was difficult for her," Harry agreed. "It still is, but she's learning to embrace her humanity." The vid of that last transmission flashed in his mind; Seven with her hair loose, and her expression relaxed in a way it had rarely been on Voyager, as if she was truly comfortable with herself and her surroundings.
::I know she had a rough time. She was such a little girl when the Borg took her..:: Irene paused, and shook her head as if to chase away that unpleasant thought. ::I'm very eager to hear about her new life.::
Harry nodded. "I can transmit the letter now, and you'll receive it in a few minutes."
::I'd like that, but I'd like it even better if you'd read it to me.::
Harry's brow furrowed. "Are you sure? It's meant for you--"
::I can't imagine my niece saying anything inappropriate...or maybe I can.:: Irene shared a smile with Harry. They both knew Seven had often paid little attention to the human concept of propriety. ::In any case, I would like you to hear what she has to say, from you.::
Harry saw the entreaty in Irene's gaze, and her hands that were carefully folded in her lap tensed. Maybe she wanted company, someone to share this last letter from the niece she would probably never see again. After only a moment's hesitation, he brought up the text file on his dataPADD.
"Hello, Aunt Irene..." Harry began, then paused, surprised by Seven's casual address. From Irene's expression, he assumed Seven hadn't previously addressed her aunt so informally.
He continued, "I have asked Lieutenant Harry Kim to deliver this letter to you. Besides being a trustworthy officer, he is a friend, and I know he will see that you get it.
"I regret we will not have the opportunity to meet. I also regret in my earlier letters that I was hesitant to 'express myself.' That is an expression Axum defines as relaying not only the bare facts of one's existence, but also what one feels inside. I wish now I had relayed more than the bare facts, and shared myself with you as you attempted to share yourself with me. But I have only learned recently how much is inside me to express.
"Axum has taught me much. However, I could have acquired none of that knowledge without my years on Voyager, and the tutelage of Captain Janeway, Harry Kim, the EMH, Commander Tuvok, B'Elanna Torres and so many others. Even when I resisted or disparaged their advice, it changed me. They changed me.
"That is why I arrived at my decision to leave Voyager and join Axum with such difficulty. I viewed the Voyager crew as my family--or, when I still relied on my Borg thought processes, as my Collective. Yet I believe I always knew Voyager was not my final destination--the place where I fit best and was truly meant to be. Nor is the Alpha Quadrant. Such insight without a foundation in logic was uncomfortable to experience, but there came a point when I could no longer ignore it.
"I do not dismiss my genetic connection to you, nor to my uncle and cousins. You are family to me, as I still feel a bond of family with those on Voyager. But I have found that my truest 'family' is in the form of a single person.
"I never considered it reasonable that two individuals could form a fully inclusive unit within themselves, despite the fact that Lieutenants Paris and Torres manifested such an attitude, with little concern over their futures as long as they faced them together. Since reuniting with Axum, I understand.
"No doubt I am over-analyzing what humans simply, if vaguely, refer to as 'love.' I once believed that condition to be primarily physiological--a simple hormonal response. It is not so. Though I still have little understanding of its poetic substance, I know how it feels. With Axum, I am complete. Whether we agree or disagree, whether we are sanguine or experiencing a period of annoyance with each other, it does not matter. Even when I am performing an individual task that gives me great satisfaction, such as assisting the former Borg on our colony adjust to their new lives, that completeness is inside me, strengthening and supporting me.
"Our colony is growing daily, and more have recently joined us, seeking a safe haven. The former drones I assist are sometimes children, liberated from their existence as drones but inexperienced with any other existence, and fearful of their future. Axum believes that I am able to reach them with more success than most of the others here because I was a child when I was assimilated. When I was liberated I felt much as they do, though I was no longer biologically a child. My work with the children has brought me gratification, as well as an unexpected emotional response. I find I desire a child of my own, with Axum."
Harry paused, and shared a surprised look with Irene. He'd never imagined Seven wanting her own child, though she'd cared for Icheb, Mezoti and the twins as if they were her own. She'd claimed she was simply performing a duty, but Harry knew better than most that Seven had formed a strong emotional attachment to them.
At Irene's nod, Harry continued, "I do not know if that desire will be fulfilled. For the Borg, reproduction is a nonbiological process, and my Borg implants compromised my fertility. The EMH on Voyager offered to perform several procedures that would improve my likelihood of conception should I so desire, though I naively declined his offer at the time. On New Pojzan we have begun to combine the medical information we attained as Borg into one comprehensive body of knowledge, with the goal of creating a medical center staffed by those who are most proficient in the field. Once that is accomplished, perhaps my situation will improve.
"I do not wish you to feel pity for me as you hear this." Harry glanced at Irene, whose gaze held not pity but sympathy. "I do not know where the future leads, and any attempt to predict it is a fruitless endeavor. I do know, from the course of my own life, that anything is possible. I may have a child one day. When the galaxy is safer, and we are no longer required to safeguard our existence here, you and I may meet again. I would greatly welcome such a development. Then you can tell me about an image I sometimes recall, of wearing red mitts too large for my hands, and removing freshly-baked cookies from an antique oven."
Harry looked up. From Irene's reflective expression, it was clear Seven's memory meant something to her. "Before I left Voyager, Lieutenant Torres expressed the opinion that the datastream would one day become a permanent method of communication between the Alpha and Delta quadrants. When that is achieved, I hope you will continue to send me letters about your family and your life in the Alpha quadrant, and I will send you letters about my life here on New Pojzan.
"If that happens, there is one request I wish to make. Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix One is an appellation I gladly disavow, though I cannot erase it from my life. My existence as Seven, recently of the starship Voyager, is of great value to me, but that is an existence now in the past. To Axum I am Annika, and to you I have always been Annika. If it is acceptable to you, I wish you to call me by my birth name."
Harry could see Irene would like nothing better. "In closing, Aunt Irene, I want you to know that I am content here. Salea--a Betazoid rescued from the Borg who has become a friend--insists with great firmness that I am 'happy.' Perhaps she is correct. My life here is fulfilling in every sense. I hope you will feel happiness for me, and experience the same in your life.
"Respectfully, your niece, Annika."
Irene remained silent as Harry shut off the dataPADD, her eyes moist, and her lips curved in a tremulous smile. It was several moments before she spoke, her voice steady. ::Thank you for reading it to me, Lieutenant Kim.::
"Harry."
Irene smiled. ::This means more to me than you will ever know, Harry.::
"You're welcome. I have one more item Seven wanted you to have." Harry held up a second dataPADD. "Her personal logs. She recorded quite a lot of them during her four years on Voyager."
Irene looked less surprised this time. ::I suppose she didn't need them to remember her time on Voyager, since she informed me she has a perfect eidetic memory.::
Harry grinned. "Yes, she certainly does. A few have forgotten that, to their dismay."
::I'll treasure them:: Irene said softly. ::Even if we never meet, they'll help me to know her again.::
"I think you've already started," Harry said. "By the way, Seven was right about the datastream. Starfleet plans to expand it, and refine it to reach specific locations within the Delta Quadrant. Very soon you may be able to exchange letters again--"
There was an shrill beep from the console, a beep that meant their subspace time was about to end. "Our time is up," Harry said, with true regret. "I'll send the letter and logs right away, but if you ever want to talk about Seven, I'm available. So is anyone else from Voyager. We'll be happy to answer any questions, or just talk about our experiences with her. The doctor--our EMH--asked me to extend that offer from him specifically, though I warn you he can talk indefinitely."
Irene laughed, a happy sound. ::If it's about Annika, I'll listen indefinitely. Thank you, Harry Kim, for everything.::
The transmission ended abruptly, and the screen went blank. Harry stared at it thoughtfully. He'd been surprised Seven had chosen him to deliver the letter to her aunt. Perhaps she'd thought he would be able to provide a sympathetic and human perspective. Whatever the reason, he was glad he'd had the opportunity. And glad to know that Seven was discovering her own happiness--
::U'Lanai to Kim.::
Harry hadn't expected to hear from the bridge again. "Kim here."
::I have a call for you from the station. I believe it's your mother.::
Harry managed not to groan out loud. For a second he envied Seven her peaceful colony life. But only for a second. His lips quirked as he wondered what his mother was up to now. "Put her through."
This time it was audio only, and his mother's voice filled his cabin.
::Harry, dear, I just wanted to check and make sure you got to your ship safely.::
"I did, Mom." He'd found his way back to Voyager from dozens of Delta Quadrant planets, even when he was occasionally less than sober, or bruised from a friendly altercation. But never mind mentioning *that*--
::That's good to hear.::
Harry almost missed her words, since there was a lot of background noise. As if she'd heard his thought, his mother said in a slightly louder voice, ::I'm on the Promenade, just outside 'Quark's Bar.'::
"You might not want to go in there, Mom. It can be a pretty rough place--"
::Nonsense. Well, perhaps it is a *bit* rowdy, but the proprietor is quite nice. He's a Ferengi, you know. I'm generally not fond of Ferengi, but Mister Quark has certain charm about him.::
Charm? Harry recalled the toothy Ferengi proprietor who'd nearly fleeced him until Tom Paris had come along. "Mom, you should be careful--"
::Did you know Mister Quark owns part of a diamond mine in the Corvalis asteroid belt? Diamonds are of little interest to Ferengi, but he knew they are considered quite valuable on Earth, so he's offered to sell me his shares for a very reasonable price. In fact I'm meeting him in just a few minutes to--::
"Mom!!" Harry groaned for real this time. "Don't do anything until I get there!"
::Harry, I'm sure you have important things to do before dinner-- ::
"Mom, just..." Harry sighed. "Wait for me, okay? I'll be there in five minutes."
::If you insist, dear, I'll stay right here.::
Harry closed the link, then jumped up and grabbed his uniform jacket from his bed. It was draped over his clarinet--his prized Clausen-Wang clarinet he'd never been able to replicate quite accurately. His mother had brought it all the way here, for him.
He touched the polished wood, and he knew that later tonight, after this long, exciting, but exhausting day was over, he'd play it for the first time in eight years, his fingers caressing the familiar surfaces, and all the tension in his body would melt away into the soothing music.
Harry smiled and stroked the clarinet one more time, then rushed out to save his mother.
#
The comm officer on the USS Halcyon was very young; Samantha Wildman thought that he was probably just on his first Starfleet posting. Nevertheless, he was the epitome of professionalism as he said, "Lieutenant Greskrendtregk is off-duty, ma'am. I'm rerouting your call to his quarters."
"Thank you, Ensign," Sam replied. She shot a quick glance at her daughter, whose eyes were shining in anticipation. Naomi reached over and squeezed her hand.
"Isn't this exciting, Mom?"
"It certainly is. Your father will be so happy to know that we're finally home." Home. The word echoed in her mind. Deep Space Nine certainly did have connotations of home to her. This was where she and Gres had been stationed together, where they'd fallen in love and decided to get married. This was also where she had transferred to Voyager for what was supposed to be a three week mission, leaving her husband behind.
Her musing was interrupted by the abrupt shift of the image on the screen. Her eyes took in the familiar cranial ridges on the center of his forehead, the almost feline eyes glowing with love as he looked at her.
::Samantha, Naomi!:: His voice was deep and warm. ::It's so good to see the two of you!::
"Yes, it's really us, Dad!" Naomi exclaimed. "We're here, I mean back in the Alpha Quadrant." At his calm nod, she said, "You don't seem very surprised to see us."
::That's because my captain contacted me a while ago and told me that Voyager was docked at Deep Space Nine,:: her father said, laughing. ::Believe me, my reaction when I heard the news was exactly what you'd expect. You could have knocked me over with a kiva feather. As soon as I recovered, I came back to my quarters to wait for your call.::
Naomi sighed in relief. "So we didn't wake you up--I was a little worried when they told us you were off duty."
::And even if I was sleeping, this is certainly worth getting up for.:: He hadn't taken his eyes off either of them for even an instant. ::How are you doing?::
"We're fine. The ship needs some repairs, but all of us are OK." Naomi turned to Sam, a bit concerned. "Mom, why aren't you saying anything?"
Sam dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. "Sorry, I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed. Gres, I'm so happy to see you."
::So am I.::
Naomi glanced from one parent to the other. "Well, these calls have a time-limit, so I'm going to go and let Mom have the rest of the time for herself. Dad, when can we expect to see you? Are you coming to the station?"
Gres shook his head. ::It's easier for me to get to Earth. Captain Samuels has been very accommodating. Our ship is due to rendezvous with the Hood in 18 hours, for the sole purpose of transferring me and one other officer. The Hood in turn will take me as far as the Ramot system, where I'll be picked up by the Cygnus. *That* ship will take me the rest of the way to Earth. ::
"Sounds pretty complicated to me," Naomi said, wrinkling her nose. "I hope you make all your connections."
::Don't worry about it, Naomi. I wouldn't miss your homecoming if I had to walk all the way myself! ::
Naomi smiled. "Well, I'll leave you two alone now. Can't wait to see you, Dad!"
::Same here, Naomi.:: As soon as the door closed behind her, Gres said, ::She's grown up so much. She's not a little girl anymore. ::
"Not by any stretch of the imagination, even if chronologically she's only about seven years old," Sam agreed. "You can thank those Ktarian genes of yours for that."
Gres smiled at her lovingly. ::And I can thank her mother for doing such a wonderful job of raising her. ::
"She is pretty great, isn't she?" Sam deftly turned the compliment around, but inwardly she was quite pleased.
::She looks a lot like you, Samantha.::
"And I always saw so much of you in her...having her made our separation a little easier to bear, because I felt like I carried a part of you with me, through Naomi." The tears which had been threatening brimmed over. "Oh, Gres..."
He leaned forward, as if he wished he could reach right through the screen to her. ::Shh...it's all right, Samantha. It's been a long haul, but it's almost over. The Spirits willing, we'll be together soon. ::
"I know." She smiled tremulously. "I don't know why I'm being so emotional now."
::Don't apologize,:: he said. ::The way you feel so deeply is one of the things I love about you. That and your strength. I'm so proud of you for everything you've accomplished. A lesser woman would never have done so well.::
"Knowing you would still be there waiting for me made it a lot easier," she said softly.
::Even if it wasn't the custom of my people to mate for life, I'd still be here,:: he said emphatically. ::I waited a long time before I chose, made very sure that I had found the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I would never let you go so easily.::
A sudden beep made her jump. He reacted instantly. ::The time for the call is up, isn't it?::
She nodded regretfully. "I'm afraid so. There are so many people waiting to contact their families, and the subspace broadband can only handle so much traffic at a time."
::I'll try and contact you again while I'm en route to Earth. Should I call you through the station, or on Voyager?::
She considered a moment. "Probably the ship. As soon as repairs are completed, we should be on our way."
::All right. I'll call you from the Hood, or at the latest when I reach the Ramot system. I love you, Samantha.::
"I love you, too, Gres."
His smile was the last thing she saw before his image faded and was replaced with the official Federation seal. She took a deep breath, then went into the small bathroom to make herself presentable before heading out of her quarters.
#
Crewman Darren Pierce nervously shuffled his feet as he waited outside the public comm booth. He wasn't sure if he wanted the booth's current occupant to hurry up already, or to take as much time as she wanted. But within a few moments the door opened and a smiling Trish Gallagher came out.
"All yours, Pierce," she said over her shoulder.
"Thanks," he said, his mouth suddenly dry, though he didn't know why he felt so anxious. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd spoken to his parents, after all. But somehow, just the fact that he knew he'd be seeing them soon made his heart beat just a little faster. He stepped into the booth, closed the door firmly behind him and punched in a familiar code. After a long pause the image of a young girl, barely into her teens, appeared on the screen.
Before he had a chance to say anything, she burst out, ::Darren! Where are you?" Without giving him a chance to respond, she called out, "Mama! Pick up the 'comm--it's Darren!::
"Hey, Peanut, how are you doing?" Darren grinned at the girl who'd been little more than a toddler the last time he'd been home. "I mean, Sami."
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. ::My name is *Samantha*,:: she informed him in her best grown up voice. ::Sami is a little girl's name.:: Her demeanor left no doubt that the nickname by which he'd called her was beneath the dignity of a response.
"Sorry," he said, amused and at the same time a little saddened by the evidence of how much she'd changed, all seemingly in the last year. He was saved from anything further by the arrival of his mother. "Hello, Mama."
::Oh, Darren, how wonderful to see you!:: the older woman exclaimed. ::Your father's not home now--he'll be so mad to have missed your call. Where are you?::
"I'm at Deep Space Nine," Darren answered. "You know, the Starfleet post right near Bajor."
His mother nodded. ::When did you get in?::
"A little over a day ago," he said. At the frown forming on his mother's face, he quickly added, "Sorry, Mama, this is the first chance I've had to call. Our arrival was a little on the 'dramatic side', if you know what I mean."
::Well, you can tell me about all that another time. What I'm more interested in is hearing about *you*--how's your head, honey?::
"My head?" he asked in surprise. "What about it?"
::You sustained a serious head injury fighting the Borg,:: she said, apparently incredulous that he didn't know what she was talking about. ::You were in a coma for days, nearly died! Don't tell me that's slipped your mind!::
"Oh, Mama," he said with some exasperation. "That was more than a year ago. I'm perfectly fine now."
::I wouldn't be so sure about that,:: she said, somewhat distractedly. ::Old injuries have a way of causing problems when you least expect them. Remember your ankle? And your arm? You always were accident prone as a child.::
::Papa says you weren't accident-prone, just liked to get into fights with anyone who looked at you sideways,:: Sami put in. ::And that joining Starfleet was probably a 'good outlet for your aggression,':: she recited carefully.
Darren groaned. This call wasn't quite going the way he'd expected.
::Now then, honey, when can we expect to see you?:: his mother asked quickly, perhaps seeing his distress.
He gave her a grateful look. "I'm not too sure, Mama. The ship is undergoing some repairs. That last exit from slipstream, and uh, a few other things, banged us up pretty badly. But I'm sure we'll get the official OK from Starfleet to head for Earth as soon as we're space-worthy."
His mother beamed. ::That's good. Darren honey, we've missed you so much, you have no idea.::
He smiled. "I've missed you, too, Mama." He glanced at his little sister, who was waiting expectantly. "All of you."
::We can't wait to see you,:: his mother went on. ::Just give me a couple hours notice and I'll have a welcome home feast ready the likes of which will make you never want to set foot in space again!::
"Well, I don't know about that," he said teasingly. "But it will be great to have some of your homecooking again."
::In the meantime, honey, I want you to promise me that you aren't going to do anything foolish, that you'll try to keep out of trouble--::
"Oh, Mama, we're in the Alpha Quadrant!" he said in exasperation. "At a Starfleet space station! What could possibly happen--"
::Now you just promise me, Darren, that you'll be careful and won't do anything dangerous that might aggravate your injury--::
Darren had the strongest urge to bang his head against the nearest wall, but he didn't even want to think about what his mother's reaction would be. Hastily, he said, "Look, Mama, it's been really great talking to you, but there's a whole line of people waiting to use this comm booth. And I've only got a few more minutes till I'm due to start my shift."
::Well, if you have to go, I guess I understand,:: she said, though clearly she hadn't said everything to him that she wanted.
"Give my regards to Papa. Love you," Darren said quickly, and signed off. He leaned against the darkened screen for a moment and exhaled deeply. Then hastily straightening his uniform, he exited the booth.
"All yours, Harper," he said to the next person waiting in line.
#
"I still can't believe it."
::Hey, Aunt Marla, you didn't think I'd stop growing until you came back, did you?::
"No, I didn't expect you not to grow, but did you have to get so tall? You're going to tower over me!"
Her nephew's eyes glittered with pleasure. ::Yeah, I ...:: The rest of her nephew's response was drowned out by shouts emanating from the booth next to hers, even though sound dampers were supposed to be in use at all times, per Captain Janeway's strict orders.
"What was that again, Ricky?" Marla asked. She realized her mistake as soon as it escaped her mouth. "I mean...Rich."
Her nephew's pained expression sweetened immediately. ::That's okay, Aunt Marla. I was still Ricky when you were home last.::
"Well, I remember what it was like to be your age..." The cacophony in the next booth was deafening again, almost drowning out the chime that Marla's call was almost over. "Oh, dear, Ricky, my time is about up."
::I know Mom and Dad are going to be really upset they missed your call, but they'll both be out of touch for the next couple of hours. You'll be in DS9 for a few more days?::
"Yes, two or three more, at least. We have some repairs to do. Have them call me on Voyager when they're free? I've got to go, Sweetheart..."
::It's really great to hear from you, Aunt Marla...::
The blue Federation logo replaced her nephew's face as the connection was broken. Marla sighed. She'd hoped to be able to speak to her sister as soon as she got into DS9--to hear the latest information Kaylyn had been able to ferret out of Starfleet anything more about Marla's rank. They had all agreed that would be the bellwether; if Starfleet were to confirm Janeway's reinstating her as an ensign, the "Equinox Five" would have a great chance of being pardoned. Perhaps it was better, this first time, just to talk to "Rich" again. He was so different, so grown-up--but not so grown up she would want him to hear about the whole Equinox mess.
Maybe it was just as well Kaylyn would be calling her back in private, when she was in her quarters on Voyager, Marla considered.
Although she had moved quite far away from the booth where Billy Telfer was, Marla could distinctly hear a last burst of voices calling "bye" from that direction. She turned around just as Telfer bounced out of the booth and ran in her direction.
"Hey, Marla! It was great! My whole family was there with my parents, waiting for me to call home! All twelve of them! Can you believe it?"
"Actually, yes, I can believe it," Marla replied with a grin that she tried to keep completely free of irony. Apparently, she did not succeed.
"Oh, we were pretty loud, weren't we? We didn't interfere with your call, did we?"
She shook her head. What good would it do to tell the truth now, when the call was over? "It was fine. They're all well, I take it? You sounded like you were having a really good time."
"We really did have a good time. And they're all doing great! My parents hardly said anything, of course. Mom was crying too hard. But the others were so excited I'm so close to home. All twelve of them were there!" Telfer was grinning widely, obviously pretty excited himself and oblivious of the fact he was repeating himself.
Marla paused at the stairway. "Let's see, how many of their names can I remember? There's Christopher, Sara, Jeannette, Carl, Julia, Maria...Dianne, Anthony...and...um, your brother Rocco...Tony..."
"Tony and Anthony are the same brother."
"Oh, yes, now I remember. The twins are Jack and Jacqueline, right? How many is that?"
"You got eleven of them, I think. That's really good. You forgot my baby brother, E.J. That's short for Edward, Junior--he hates being called Eddie, but he says being 'Junior' is even worse!"
Marla laughed. "Well, Billy, I'm glad you got a chance to speak to all of them--although I guess you didn't get a chance to actually speak to any of them all that much, did you?"
"That didn't matter. Just seeing them and knowing I'm going to be with them soon is enough. Was your call home good, too? Is your sister okay?"
"It was fine. I spoke with my nephew. He's such a big young man now!"
"You didn't talk to your sister?" Telfer looked stricken by the very thought of someone not communicating with a sibling.
"She was out of communication range on a suborbital flight, now, of all times! But that's okay. My nephew will let her know I called, and she can call me on the ship. I can wait a little longer."
Telfer took her hand. "That's good. I hope all that commotion didn't bother you to much."
Marla was touched by his obvious sincerity. "You were happy. That was good to hear."
"Well, Marla--I mean, Ensign Gilmore--I've got to get back to my quarters to get some sleep if I can. I'm pulling gamma shift duty today."
"It should be a lot easier manning a gamma shift here than the ones we've had for the last eight years," Marla said, bidding her crew mate good-bye.
After Billy had run off, still burbling with enthusiasm over his subspace family reunion, Marla's buoyant mood ebbed away and threatened to slip even further into depression. Confirmation of her rank...what a pipedream! As much as she wanted desperately for it to happen, not only for her sake, but also for Harry's, in her heart she knew it was a vain hope. Slowly ascending the stairway to the upper level of the Promenade, Marla moved slowly along until she found herself with her face pasted against the viewport, gazing at the stars and barely imperceptible mists which marked the location of the wormhole. As she stared in its direction, a great light suddenly pulsed through the area, brightening into a whirlpool of multi-hued energy which disgorged a small ship traveling from the Gamma Quadrant into the Alpha Quadrant.
After several seconds, Marla realized the spacecraft was anything but small. It had simply been dwarfed by the vast scale of the wormhole. As she watched the approach the station, Marla's raw emotions jumbled within her. After all this time trying to get home from the Delta Quadrant, the Gamma Quadrant was looking better to her all the time.
"No satisfying me," Marla whispered to the bejeweled black velvet depths of space.
The fact she'd spoken out loud startled her a little bit. Abashed, she backed up from the viewport--even though the view truly was glorious--and started to make her way further down the platform towards the docking ring area where Voyager was docked.
As she passed by the next to the last viewport before entering the corridors she noticed a figure standing in much the same position as the one she had assumed a couple of minutes before. The posture and silhouette were very familiar. "Angelo?" she called out tentatively.
His head turned towards her. "Marla? Hi," he answered.
Marla walked over to where he was and stood next to him, facing the glory of the stars, and asked him, "I thought you were going with Celes to meet the Tal family?"
There was no mirth in his laughter. "Oh, I did. They're very nice people, but not thrilled Celes has brought home a human fiancee. Especially one from the Equinox."
Marla felt a sudden chill. "Why not from the Equinox?"
"There've been rumors, Marla. Somebody connected with Starfleet must have been talking. I can't believe any of our families would have said anything--not that that's a problem for me."
The bitterness in his voice was understandable. The entire Tessoni family, apart from a few distant cousins and great aunts and uncles, had been killed in the infamous attack by the Cardassians on Brolar III in 2363. Just two weeks before, Angelo had boarded a ship bound for a prep school on Regulus III, intending to beef up his resume in scientific subjects in hopes of enrolling at Starfleet Academy. He had just turned sixteen years old. When he got to Regulus, he managed, somehow, to obtain false documents showing his age as eighteen and for the last three years of the Cardassian War he fought on the U.S.S. Kearsarge. Ironically, being assigned to the science vessel Equinox under Captain Ransom had been the culmination of a dream he cherished since he was a young boy. What a nightmare it had turned into!
Angelo needed comforting, not reminiscences about what had gone so wrong in his life. Marla decided to ignore the comment.
"I don't think anyone who knows us would say anything about what happened to us in the Delta Quadrant. Maybe they're just a little protective of Celes. They haven't seen her in eight years, either! And a lot of terrible things happened here while we were gone."
He sighed deeply, glancing at her briefly before looking out into space again. "I'd be a lot more acceptable to them if I were a Maquis, I know that."
"Who says you aren't? An unofficial one, at least," Marla pointed out with a grin. Angelo had actually had that as his nickname on the Equinox, and unsurprisingly, given his history, Angelo had always had an affinity for the Maquis on board Voyager. It was no mystery why he might be romantically attracted to a Bajoran woman, although his love for Tal Celes was much more than a simple infatuation.
"They'd prefer an official Maquis for Celes," he answered, with more than a touch of a smirk flickering across his face.
"Give them time to get used to your charm and *savoir faire*," she suggested.
"Ha!" he laughed. "And how about Harry's mother? How is she treating you?"
"She's wonderful. What dedication!"
"She'd be quite a mother-in-law to have," Angelo pointed out shrewdly.
"Please! I'm not ready to talk about marriage yet! Not like you are."
Angelo turned to face her, his lips moving as if he were trying to express something his mouth would not permit him to say. Finally he managed, "Let's not talk about mothers-in-law or anything else, Marla. Why don't we find Harry and Celes and have a nice time at Vic's Place, inside Quark's."
"The holographic singer's club? That's a great idea, Angelo. It's time we had some fun for a change!"
She didn't have to add, "While we still have a chance." It went without saying.
#
"Mom, it's okay, I'll do it." Harry tried to get up to help his mother clear his tray from the table, but she immediately pressed him back into his chair.
"No, son, leave this to me," she told him, and proceeded to stack the dishes, glasses and whatever else remained from their meal onto the tray. She swept it out from in front of him, and without another word trotted off to the recycler. Harry watched her go with a combination of amusement and frustration.
They were back in the mess hall on board Voyager. Harry had decided it was far too dangerous to allow his mother anywhere near Quark's, Morn or any passing Ferengi, and had managed to get permission for her to remain on the ship until they reached Earth. Her offer to help supervise the Carey boys had been eagerly welcomed by Joe and Anne, and when the idea had been presented to Janeway and Chakotay that way they couldn't help but agree.
Besides, he really hadn't been able to spend much time with her yet, and he was, when all was said and done, extremely glad to see her. He was only sorry his father wasn't there as well. They had spoken to his dad earlier in the day, and Harry was pleased to see that although his father had aged a bit over the past eight years, he was still just as he remembered him -- a small man with a delightful twinkle in his eye. Harry had always loved his father's sense of humor -- some of his fondest memories were of the jokes they had shared. He also realized his father's finely tuned sense of absurdity was probably one of the key ingredients of his parents' long-lasting and happy marriage.
Harry leaned back into his chair and watched as his mother stopped on her way back to him to chat with Ensign Potter and wave to Crewman Sneap. He had to admit that with Mary Kim, to coin one of Tom Paris' phrases -- what you saw was what you got. She was a genuinely warm and friendly individual. Stubborn and annoying and extremely outspoken, for sure, but there was nothing she wouldn't do for him. Or any family member or friend, for that matter.
"Mom," he reached over the table to grasp her hand when she finally sat down across from him once again, "Have I told you just how happy I am to see you?"
"Harry," his mother's return grip was strong and warm, "the day your father and I heard that Voyager had disappeared, a part of us died." Her eyes clouded at the memory. She squeezed his hand again and smiled. "And when Starfleet notified us that the ship had been found, and that you had survived, it was as if we had been granted another life. If you think you're happy to see me...." Her voice broke.
"I know, Mom, I know."
"Enough of that now," Mrs. Kim said, with a quick shake of her head. "I want to talk to you about that lovely young woman."
Harry sighed. His mother was nothing if not predictable. He had been gearing up for the 'Marla conversation' ever since her arrival.
"I like her, son. I like her a lot. She's got kind eyes." Harry was encouraged; this was one of Mary Kim's highest compliments.
"She's got a kind heart too, Mom." He said.
"But I'm worried, Harry. She's got a difficult time ahead of her, doesn't she? After all, she comes from that criminal ship."
"What have you heard, Mom?" Harry asked quickly, obviously upset she'd heard anything at all about the Equinox.
"Nothing specific, Harry. Just that Voyager picked up five people from a ghost ship and they were demoted. If they were all demoted, then they must have done something very wrong."
Harry just gazed at her.
"Don't forget, I'm a fourth grade teacher, dear," she explained. "I'm very good at figuring things out."
"I don't know what they did, Harry," she continued, "but it must been very bad for Captain Janeway to have done something that drastic. And I imagine your Marla is not going to have an easy time of it when she gets back to Earth."
"You're right, Mom," he sighed. "Don't you think Marla and I haven't discussed it? Over and over." He added, almost to himself.
"What about your career in Starfleet, have you discussed that? You're a lieutenant now, and I think you could be a lieutenant commander very soon. Captain Janeway told me she thinks you have command potential."
"She did?" Harry was surprised that Janeway would have been that forthcoming.
"Well not in so many words, but she did say that you have shown yourself to be a fine young officer. And if you tie yourself down to someone whose record is questionable at best, and will possibly spend time in jail at worst, it won't be very good for you, will it?"
"Mom, no matter what happens to Marla, I'll be there for her. It doesn't matter what they do to her. And by the way," Harry's voice rose slightly, " I know that Captain Janeway has put in recommendations for all the Equinox crew members. She's said over and over again she'll support them all the way. Marla -- and all of them have been exemplary members of Voyager's crew ever since we took them aboard. We're all hoping that they'll be pardoned." He paused for a moment. "And if Starfleet has to look to my significant other's record rather than mine in order to determine whether I'm worthy of them..." He paused for a moment and then continued forcefully, "Well then...they're not worthy of me."
Mary stared at her son -- studying his face carefully. After a moment she nodded.
"You love her." It was a statement, not a question.
Harry nodded. "I love her Mom." He said quietly, "And I want to spend the rest of my life with her."
Once again Mary Kim took her son's hand and squeezed it. "You're a fine young man, Harry Kim," she said slowly. "And I think your Marla is a good woman. And if you love her as you say you do, then as far as I'm concerned, you should be with her. And you can tell her I said so."
Harry looked down at their joined hands and thought about how lucky he was.
"I will, Mom. I promise you I will."
"Now, show me where I'm supposed to sleep, Harry. I'm tired. I've been running around that space station all day. And I'm sure," she said as she disengaged her hand from his, gathered up her bags and stood up, "that you have other, very important things to do besides sitting and gabbing with your old mother."
#
Noah Lessing's legs were aching, which they had started doing in recent months whenever he was under stress. The Doctor had told him it was psychosomatic, and on that he figured the Doctor was exactly right. Ever since his rescue from the ruined Bridge of the *Equinox*, his legs gave him trouble of one sort or another. Since he knew for a physical fact his legs were in perfect shape, then it stood to reason that, yes, the pain *was* all in his head.
If that turned out to be the only price he'd have to pay for all that had transpired aboard the *Equinox*, he'd gladly live with it.
But for now, real or phantom, his legs were begging him to find a seat. Given he had been standing in line on the Promenade for the better part of an hour, waiting his turn for a comm unit, he couldn't blame his beleaguered limbs. Nevertheless, he stayed in line another two minutes and was rewarded. A unit opened, he was next up, and he slipped gratefully onto the seat in front of it.
Now that he was here, he hesitated, even though he knew he did not have an unlimited amount of time to make his call. The area around the public comm units was still packed with people waiting to make calls, not all of them Voyager crewmembers. Deep Space Nine was a busy place, even without the addition of Voyager and all the media.
Before he could hesitate himself right out of making the call, he entered the codes and waited. Neither he nor any of the lower decks crewmembers had been permitted much datastream time beyond several text-only letters. There just hadn't been enough room, and then they were home and it became unnecessary.
While his mind wandered, his call was answered, and there she was. His precious little girl. Not so little now, of course--she was ten--but to see her sweet face and know he would soon be seeing her, *really* seeing her and hugging her, made his eyes fill. He blinked and smiled, trying to find his voice. Luckily, he didn't have to. She recognized him at once.
::Daddy!::
He coughed to clear his throat. "Hi baby. It sure is good to see you. Look at you, all grown up."
She dropped her eyes shyly, but was clearly pleased with his observation. ::Am not.::
"Are, too. So how's the mailbox?"
At this she giggled, remembering their new special joke. In a singsong voice, she recited the words she had learned from him. ::Daddy went vroom and the mailbox went crack. It was a sad day for the mailbox.:: She paused and looked hard at him, switching gears so fast he wondered what she was going to say. He didn't have to wonder very long. ::When are you coming to see me? I want you to see my room and my brother and my adoption papers and my stepdad.::
She said all this in a great rush that caught him completely off guard. He had known the adoption had gone through--had even *encouraged* Sam and Ginny to go ahead with it--but still it threw him to hear Hannah say it out loud like that. It would take a bit of getting used to, he admitted to himself, just like everything else.
He must have had a strange look on his face, because Hannah suddenly asked if he was okay and repeated her question about when he was coming to see her. That question, at least, was easy enough to answer.
"Honey, I don't know yet. The Captain is still waiting to hear from Starfleet about when we can leave for Earth. But I promise I'll be there as soon as I can. He changed the subject to get out from under her stern stare. "Is your mom around?"
::Yes, she's outside. I'll go get her.::
Hannah didn't put the transmission on hold, so Noah could see into the living room. It was obvious his neat-as-a-pin ex-wife had to give up a little of that neatness for the new baby. There were blocks, balls, and other assorted toys strewn all over the floor. It looked like a happy mess, and for one fleeting moment, he hated the cards he'd been dealt. But the feeling passed as quickly as it had come.
If he had learned nothing from his time on the *Equinox* and on Voyager, he had learned that the universe was a big, strange place, and even when you thought you had reached the end of your rope, you were sometimes given another length, whether you thought you deserved it or not.
Ginny had by this time slipped into the chair in front of her unit, just barely holding onto a squirming little boy.
::Noah. Welcome home. You look good. A little tired. What's going on? When do we get to see you?:: She sounded like her daughter.
::Cup!:: This from the toddler on her lap, at top volume.
Ginny held one finger up to the screen, turned her head and called to her daughter, who was out of sight somewhere. ::Hannah, honey, get me his sippy cup, would you? It's in the cooler unit. I just filled it.:: She turned back to the screen, sighed heavily enough to raise the hair off her forehead, and began to bounce the child on her knee in an effort to distract him from his intent to get off her lap.
Noah watched this scene with growing amusement. Hannah had been no problem at this age--or at least not nearly as feisty and demanding--and Ginny looked a little worse for wear. He couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"Handsome boy, Ginny, but he looks like a handful. What's his name?"
Ginny stopped bouncing her son and instead wrapped her arms around him and gave him a quick squeeze, looking for a moment like she might start to cry. But she quickly recovered, and resumed her bouncing. ::Oh, Noah, I was wondering when you'd ask. You know what I named him. How could I name him anything else?::
There was a small moment of silence until understanding dawned, and with it came a flood of jumbled emotions that caused his throat to tighten. "Abraham," he rasped softly. It was his father's name. It would have been Hannah's if she'd been a boy.
Hannah chose that moment to arrive with her brother's cup, happily unaware of the emotional state of the adults or that her presence was just the diversion they needed. She bent at the waist and presented it to him, wiggling her backside and puckering her lips, in preparation to talk to him. ::Here's your sippy cup, Abie- baby. Now c'mere.::
Smiling broadly, showing tiny white teeth, Abraham eagerly took the cup, stuffed the tip into his mouth and held his arms out to be taken. Hannah hefted him into her arms, staggered a minute under his weight, and then walked him over to his mass of toys in the middle of the living room.
Ginny followed her children's progress for a moment and then turned back to Noah. ::She's so good with him, Noah. Never once has she displayed even the remotest hint of jealousy. She's the best babysitter we could want, and doesn't even ask for an increase in her allowance credits for watching him.::
"Well, she had a good upbringing."
Ginny looked ready to cry again, but caught herself once more. ::Noah, I'm sorry I didn't--::
He cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. "Gin, no, we've been through this already. You thought I was dead--you had a *memorial service* for me, for crying out loud--you don't have to keep apologizing for going on with your life. Besides, you've got a great husband and a wonderful family now, and it's all I could have ever wanted for you.
"Do you think I'd have been happy knowing you were waiting for me? None of us knew what the hell had happened when the Caretaker's Array dragged us to the Delta Quadrant. When we finally figured it out and realized how far away from home we were, we knew that little science vessel would never get us back inside of a hundred years, if then. I hoped right then you wouldn't ruin your life by waiting for me, and I'm glad you didn't."
His speech left him winded and his legs twitching. He leaned back in the seat, unable for a second to think of another thing to say. He glanced at the timer; his time was about up. Then something else came to him, something blessedly neutral that would take the edge off their emotions.
"How's life in Luna Colony?"
Ginny looked grateful. ::Things are going really well, even out here in the sticks. Or should I say out here in the *dust*? But, you know,:: she said, her voice becoming lighter with her thought, ::that reminds me. Sam said the other day that one of his clients has a florist's shop and greenhouse he wants to sell.::
Noah perked up immediately, ignoring the rapidly-blinking timer on the console. "Oh yeah?" In the short time he'd been on Voyager, he'd done wonders with hydroponics, creating paths lined with roses and Talaxian tomatoes of gargantuan proportions. He'd had little interest in horticulture before then, but did not question his good fortune in being able not only to make himself useful aboard the starship, but to do something he found he enjoyed. He'd told Ginny about it in his last letter.
::When you get here, we'll all go and take a look. How's that sound?::
Noah sighed. "When he got there" could be any time from two months to twenty years, depending on Starfleet's decisions regarding the *Equinox*, as well as the question of how he would handle what Janeway had done to him, if he would *handle* it at all. He knew Ginny knew all this but was keeping a bright face for Hannah. He looked down at the console and as he did, the timer beeped sharply. If he didn't sever his connection in the next 30 seconds, it would be severed for him. He looked back up at Ginny and spoke rapidly.
"That sounds great, Gin. My time's up. I've got to go. I figure I won't get another chance to call before we're summoned to Earth. Keep watching the FNN newsvids, as they'll probably carry word of our departure to Earth. But keep away from the tabloids. The press is everywhere around here, good and bad, but as you might imagine, we're not allowed to talk to them. So whatever the tabloids are printing, it's all fabrication." He raised his voice a little. "Goodbye, Hannah. Take care of your little brother. I love you."
::I will, daddy,:: Hannah yelled from across the room. ::I love you, too! Bye!::
The screen went blank. Noah lifted himself slowly to his feet, turned from the comm unit and walked down the Promenade, stopping at the first florist shop he came to.
#
"Captain's log, Stardate 55919.4. It's impossible to describe the mood of my intrepid crew. In the past thirty hours, I think we've felt every possible emotion. Fear, relief, joy...trepidation. We're home, and still Starfleet has not said anything--except to send Commander Craig to control the news. This is somewhat unsettling, since the very first thing he said was 'don't talk to anyone--especially the press.'
"B'Elanna has already started repairs. Commander, soon to be Captain Riker has offered any assistance we need."
::Captain,:: Chakotay's voice said. ::There's an incoming message, from Admiral Hayes.::
"Patch it through to my Ready Room." About time, she thought. "Admiral Hayes, it's about time I heard from Starfleet," she said with a growl.
::Captain Janeway, welcome home,:: he said.
Janeway shook her head. "Admiral, I'd like some answers! First and foremost, when are we expected on Earth?"
::I understand, *Captain.* You will be receiving your orders shortly.::
She maintained a cool exterior, but she wanted to glare down the admiral and get those answers they'd been after for a year now. "And then?"
::Again congratulations. Hayes out.::
Janeway leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes stifling her need to scream. "Log, continue entry..."
::Captain,:: Chakotay's voice interrupted her again. ::Commander Craig is here. He wishes to speak with you.::
She opened her eyes and grimaced. "Very well, send him in. Computer, close log."
Commander Craig entered. He waited quietly for her to acknowledge his presence.
"Commander?"
"I have been in contact with Admiral Necheyev. This incident with the Romulans is being dealt with. The Romulan government is extremely embarrassed by the actions of a few rogue officers."
"Of course," Janeway said in a neutral tone. She still wondered just how innocent the Romulan government was.
"We would like to avoid embarrassing them further..."
"I understand. And let me guess, some in our own government would like an excuse to break the treaty?"
Craig face crinkled in disgust. "Absolutely not. The Federations stands behind the treaty. Admiral Necheyev is insistent upon this. Please inform your crew that they are not to mention this *incident* to anyone."
This was something she hadn't missed in the DQ. "So, we're to pretend it didn't happen?"
"Exactly--at least for the moment. Any damage can be explained by problems with the slipstream."
"Of course." She worked to maintain a neutral expression. "And the prisoners will be returned to the Romulans?"
"Already done. Starfleet intelligence has taken the ship to a secure location."
"Any idea on how they arranged all this?"
"Starfleet intelligence is working on that. They suspect others were involved."
"Who?"
"I am not at liberty to say."
In other words, she thought, they haven't told you. Commander Craig smiled knowingly. "Please remind your crew about what they can and can't talk about while on Deep Space Nine."
She buried her head in her hands after he left, stifling the urge to scream. Or, better, toss him into space.
"You all right?" Chakotay asked. She looked up, wondering when he'd entered.
"He's an officious..."
"Kathryn!" Chakotay shook his head as he started massaging her shoulders. "What did he say?"
"The Romulan *incident* didn't happen."
"It didn't? How are they managing that one? Our crew and the Enterprise's crew know."
"I have no clue. Starfleet is going to come up with some statement--that will avoid embarrassing the Romulan government."
"You really think they pulled this off without the backing of the Romulan government?"
"We'll probably never know."
"Welcome home," he whispered. "What did Hayes say?"
"We're to stay here, waiting for further orders."
His hands stilled. "I see."
She rolled her eyes. "Chakotay, it won't be that bad," she said with a lack of belief.
He kissed the top of her head. "If you say so. What will happen, will happen."
She nodded, reluctantly. She still wanted answers.
"Well, you ready?" he asked after a long silence. "I did promise you dinner."
They entered the bridge together. The image of the symmetrical station was wonderful--despite all her doubts. But the feeling of victory was fast being lost in a pile of paperwork and redtape.
#
Chakotay's throat tightened. Although he had received several recorded messages from his sister over the datastream, Starfleet had not been able to connect Dorvan to the FTL communication link. This was the first time in more than eight years that he and his sister had seen each other in real time. Now she looked eagerly across the monitor, her long dark hair tied back loosely with a red silk scarf. The carefree baby sister he remembered had been transformed to a woman of substance. The hardscrabble years of fighting the Cardassians showed in small lines around her mouth and a touch of sadness in her eyes. As he gazed at her, he suddenly was incapable of speech. The most he could do was reach out an touch the screen.
Maya seemed just as moved. Her eyes glittered suspiciously even as her smile deepened. ::Chakotay,:: she said, her voice thick. ::*Cacun*.::
He finally recovered his voice. "Look at you," he said. "You're so beautiful."
She laughed, and wiped her eyes. ::You're a liar, but I love you. I'm fat and I waddle.:: She smoothed her hand over her very pregnant belly. ::And your nephew has a tendency to kick when I least expect it. Esteban says he's sure to be a forward on the soccer team.:: She paused. ::I wish I could be there to greet you.::
"So do I, but you have to take care of that baby. If the doctors tell you to stay in bed, then you need to stay in bed. I just wish I could fit a trip to Dorvan in before we head for Earth. But I'll be there in time for the naming."
Her smile faded. ::I hope so. Oh, I wish I could change your mind. If you don't want to accept the Bajorans offer of sanctuary, then at least come home. The Tribal Council here hasn't established an extradition agreement with the Federation yet. You'd be safe here.::
"I can't do that. I owe it to this crew and to Kathryn to see this all the way to the end. We've been through too much together for me to abandon them now."
::And what do you owe to me?:: she asked, with a flash of temper. ::I'm your sister, the only one you have left. What do you owe to yourself, Chakotay?::
He understood her anger. Sometimes he still felt it himself. "I owe myself respect. If I can't keep my promises, what am I? And I promised my crew and my captain I would go home with them." Forcing a smile, he changed the subject. "Has Cholo arrived yet?"
Cholo--the pet name of Koltec, the oldest son of their cousin Tervan, was on his way to Dorvan, experiencing not only his first trip off planet but also his first visit to Dorvan. Chakotay knew from Tervan's letters how much the young teen had been looking forward to it and from Maya's letters how excited she was to have him. She allowed the diversion, at least briefly. ::He's due tomorrow. That's another reason you should come here. He can't wait to meet you.::
"Maya, I can't. Leave it at that."
Her eyes began to glitter again. ::I'm afraid for you. I keep having nightmares that they arrest you and drag you off to some dark room and I can't find you.::
"It's not going to come to that."
She shook her head. ::They've tried all the former Maquis who made the mistake of returning to a Federation world.::
"Yes, but many of them received probation. I think it's likely we would, if they bothered to arrest us." He smiled encouragingly. "We put together a pretty good record on Voyager, you know. They might just decide it's time to put all that behind and move forward."
::I don't trust them.:: She frowned, and he caught his breath. At that moment, she looked exactly like their mother when she knew that an argument with their father would be useless but she disagreed with him anyway. ::So. Will I ever get to meet this Kathryn of yours?::
He relaxed. The argument was over. "Yes. She's going to come with me. I honestly expect we'll be there for the naming. And I want to meet this Esteban of yours. *And* I want to see the progress you have made in rebuilding Dorvan."
Her entire face lit up. ::It's taking longer than we like, but in all honesty, it's coming along faster than we hoped. The pueblo and plains settlements are almost completely rebuilt. Reforestation is going to take years, but we're already seeing some sprouts in the northwestern forests and in the subtropics. We expect to be ready to import animal stock in five years. Our village may not be the same in our lifetime, but our children and grandchildren will see it.::
"That's wonderful. You've found your life's calling, haven't you? You glow when you talk about it."
::I hadn't thought of it that way before, but yes. I just wish...:: she let the sentence trail off, but he knew what she meant. She wished there had been some other way to find her vocation.
He glanced at the chronometer. "I'm almost about out of time. They're asking us to keep this short because the demand is so high. I'll call again before we reach Earth."
::Please,:: she said. ::And keep me informed, all right? I don't want to rely on the news services to find out what happens to you. Give my best to Kathryn, and watch yourself. I worry about you.::
"You stole my lines. Take care of yourself, Maya--*'in yabitmech*. And have fun with Cholo."
He reached to touch the screen again as it faded.
#
When Tuvok stepped out of his cabin, Neelix came bounding up to him with such alacrity the security chief suspected him of lying in wait. "Yes, Mr. Neelix, what can I do for you?" He did not wait for an answer, but continued down the corridor.
"Did you speak to her yet?" Neelix asked, hurrying to match his steps with Tuvok's.
Without breaking his stride, Tuvok said, "If you are referring to my wife, yes, I have just finished my call."
Neelix beamed. "That's wonderful! How did it go?"
"This was no different than any of the previous times we have communicated, " Tuvok pointed out. "I exchanged several messages with T'Pel via the datastream. And with the advent of the FTL communication once we reached the Alpha Quadrant, I have spoken with her 'live' a few times as well."
Neelix waved his words away. "That's not the same thing. Now we're *really* close by--wasn't it different knowing you'll be with her soon?"
Tuvok considered the hopeful expression of the man standing before him. "Perhaps it was."
They reached the turbolift and both of them entered. "Deck four," Tuvok said. It was a short ride; almost immediately, the doors opened once more. Tuvok exited, and then raised an eyebrow as Neelix followed him. He had assumed Neelix was heading to the Mess Hall on deck two. Deck four housed the torpedo launchers as well as the shuttle and docking bays. "I am going to the station," he said bluntly. "What is your destination?"
"Why, I'm going there, too!" Neelix said cheerfully. "We can walk together." He waited for Tuvok to key in the code on the wall panel. "I simply must go back to that Klingon restaurant and ask him what he puts into his rokeg blood pie. It didn't taste at all like I expected it to--certainly not like the version I whipped up for B'Elanna that time for her 'Day of Honor' celebration. And the gagh--how does he manage to keep them wriggling even after marinating? I can't quite..."
Tuvok allowed the sound of Neelix's voice to fade to a soothing hum in the background as they passed through the airlock connecting them to Deep Space Nine and then began the relatively long walk down from the docking pylons toward the habitat ring. Not surprisingly, his thoughts went back to his conversation with T'Pel.
It had been extremely...gratifying, to speak with her, to see her image on the screen. Despite his answer to Neelix, in the privacy of his own mind he admitted that he *did* feel a difference concerning the marital bond. The vast distances separating them during the Delta Quadrant years had caused a discernible weakness in the mental link he shared with his wife, a weakness that had troubled him greatly. Now that they were both within the same quadrant, the bond had strengthened. He could 'feel' her in his mind once more, a comfortable presence instead of a faint shadow. A complete and permanent loss of the bond was something he did not even wish to contemplate. There had been two separate occasions in the past when he was sure the link had been severed: the time a transporter accident caused him and Neelix to be combined in the entity known as Tuvix, and his assimilation by the Borg. Though his individuality had been submerged, he had still been conscious of a vast emptiness--the absence of the bond. But once restored to himself it was very reassuring to be able to sense it once more.
Neelix's voice broke into his reverie. He looked up to see the Talaxian's smile. "I'm sorry, Mr. Neelix, would you mind repeating that?"
"Daydreaming about your wife?" Neelix said with a wink. Tuvok opened his mouth, but Neelix went on, "So, when do you get to see her in person?"
"I expect that will be when Voyager arrives at Earth."
Neelix was shocked. "Do you mean to say that T'Pel isn't coming to the station?"
"It would not make sense for her to do so," Tuvok said. "Our ship will be leaving shortly and it would be inconvenient for T'Pel to travel first to Deep Space Nine instead of going straight from Vulcan to Earth."
"But what if there are delays?" Neelix said indignantly.
"If there are, I assure you I will have no difficulty waiting a little longer for our reunion." Tuvok nodded a greeting to a passing Starfleet officer and then remarked, "It almost appears as though you are more eager to see my wife than I am." He paused. "If I did not know better, I might suspect you have an ulterior motive."
Neelix chuckled. "Nothing illicit on my part, I promise! I just want to see my favorite Vulcan happy."
Tuvok was touched at Neelix's concern. He also realized, somewhat belatedly, that having left everyone and everything he cared about behind when he decided to join Voyager years ago, Neelix was looking to him to vicariously experience a reunion with loved ones. He felt a stab of sympathy. For all his cheerful bluster, Tuvok suspected that Neelix was sometimes intolerably lonely.
They emerged into a broader corridor and all at once more people were in evidence all about them. Starfleet officers, Bajoran militia and civilians--the station was teeming with life. Everyone seemed to know who they were--he caught the word "Voyager" bandied about in several conversations. A few individuals smiled in their direction, but did not attempt to engage them in conversation. Tuvok was not entirely comfortable with his newfound 'celebrity' status, but as long as his privacy was respected, he had no grounds for complaints.
"I can't tell you how exciting it is to be here finally and getting the chance to meet some of the people and see the actual institutions I've heard so much about," Neelix said, looking all around with delight and waving his arms enthusiastically.
"What are your plans for the future?" Tuvok asked, remembering that the last he'd heard, Neelix had spoken about possibly opening a restaurant.
Neelix dragged his attention away from a display of unfamiliar spices in a shop window. "It'll probably take some time for me to get settled, so I don't want to jump into anything," he said. "But I think I'll offer my services to Starfleet's diplomatic corps. I have all those years of experience on Voyager, after all, and who better to guide your ambassadors in dealing with the natives of the Delta Quadrant?"
"Indeed," Tuvok said. "And Sarexa--what will she be doing? Does she wish to enter the diplomatic corps as well? Or will she be pursuing something in engineering, perhaps?"
Neelix looked at him in surprise. "Why, um, I don't exactly know. She hasn't said anything, but I just assumed..." his words dwindled away. Clearly, it hadn't entered his mind that Sarexa would not be with him, sharing in whatever experiences he would have.
"Neelix, have you discussed any of this with her?" Tuvok asked.
"I've told her the various ideas I've had."
"And did she say anything in response?"
Neelix frowned. "She did suggest I wait and gauge the restaurant business carefully before making any substantial investment...but other than that, no."
"Has she said what she wants?" Tuvok pressed. At Neelix's quick shake of the head, Tuvok halted and looked at him for a long moment. "Neelix, I do not wish to pry, but would you please define for me the nature of your relationship?"
"The nature of my relationship?" Neelix said, flustered. "You mean, with Sarexa?"
Tuvok bit back a sigh. "She is the subject of this conversation, and if I am not mistaken, the only female you have expressed an interest in since Kes."
Neelix's face changed, and for a moment Tuvok wondered if it had been the reference to Kes that was responsible. Neelix had loved the Ocampan with all his heart , but for reasons Tuvok was not privy to, the two of them had grown apart, even before Kes underwent her mysterious transformation and left Voyager. He waited.
"I care about Sarexa very much--who wouldn't, she's a wonderful woman," Neelix said at last. "Of course, I'll look out for her, make sure that she's all right. I can't imagine not being with her, I would certainly never just go off and leave her! She's one of my closest friends, like a sister to me." He shrugged helplessly. "Well, maybe 'sister' is not exactly what I mean..."
Tuvok studied him carefully, hearing more than the words Neelix was actually saying. He caught Neelix's gaze in his own. "Perhaps you should give some more thought to the future," he said gently. "At the very least, talk to Sarexa and hear what her plans entail."
#
Jenny shoved Megan into the booth. "I don't care if it's two in the morning where he is."
"But Robbie doesn't like to be woken up early."
"And we may not get a chance later on." Jenny sat down at the comm console and entered in the information. "I hope he's home."
A rather sleepy red-headed male appeared on the image screen. ::Just what do you think you're doing...?:: His eyes opened wide. ::My god, where are you? Do you know what time it is?::
"We're at Deep Space Nine, and yes we do know the time," Jenny said laughing.
"Don't tell me phuds don't have to get up at two in the morning?" Megan asked. She giggled. "And it's good to see you, too."
::I...I hadn't heard you had returned. Have you told mom and dad?::
"They're on vacation. We were hoping you could let them know." Jenny waved.
Robbie yawned. ::When are you coming to Earth?::
"We..." Jenny looked at Megan. "Robbie, we don't know. It's a mess, almost like Starfleet isn't sure what's going on. We're not supposed to tell anyone anything, the press is all over..."
::I know how to contact our parents, I just would like to tell them when. They'll want to rush home and tell the entire family.::
"Soon, is my guess. Repairs are complete..."
::Repairs? Meg, what happened?:: Robbie was frowning.
"Yet another thing we're not supposed to talk about." Megan shrugged. "Our homecoming was far more interesting than we expected."
"That's an understatement," Jenny agreed. "But our three week mission is now complete. And have we got stories to tell." She smiled. "Wait until you see our Astrometrics facilities...Even you will be impressed."
::I've heard about it. I can't wait...:: His grin grew.
"Robbie, our time is running out. Expect us when you see us Take care."
::You, too.:: The two sisters reached out to touch the screen. ::Bye.::
#
Nunk lifted his tankard of Ferengi ale and nodded at the proprietor. "This ale is excellent. You are extremely well supplied."
"Thank you," Quark answered. "Is this your first visit to Deep Space Nine? I don't remember seeing you here before."
"My brother and I are to covering the arrival of Voyager for the Fereginar Daily Business News. Our editor is especially interested in business opportunities in the Delta Quadrant--and the various alien technologies they discovered."
"Ahhh. So there is profit in Voyager?"
Nunk hesitated a second. "I'm sure there is, but whether Starfleet will share with anyone is the question."
"Starfleet doesn't believe in profit."
Nunk nodded in agreement. "They work against the Ferengi businessman."
"You should have seen the pile of paperwork I was required to fill out just to run this modest operation when Starfleet was in control. At least with the Bajorans, it's less. And the taxes I have to pay," Quark said. "They cut into my profit."
Nunk agreed with the proprietor then raised his hand when he saw his brother arrive. Blont smiled. "Brother, there you are. Have you forgotten Voyager is here?"
"How could I forget? They took longer than we expected."
Blont hand moved in a silent warning. Nunk realized that Quark was still standing, waiting. He pulled a latinum chip from his pocket and tossed it. Quark caught it easily. "Have a good stay on Deep Space Nine," Quark said as he left.
"You overpaid him."
"I did not," Nunk retorted as he slid the second tankard toward his brother. "Drink to our success. Millions..."
"Not if you keep wasting our funds." Blont picked up the drink and gulped it down in three swallows. " Now come, we need to get started." He took the half full tankard from Nunk and placed it on the table. "You drink too much anyway."
#
Blont shoved Nunk toward the human female officer. "Ask her some questions," he whispered.
"She's not from Voyager, she's wearing the gray uniform..."
"So, I'm sure Voyager will be wearing them now, too."
Nunk didn't even bother to continue arguing. "I'm Nunk from the Fereginar Business Daily. Welcome back to the alpha quadrant."
She laughed. "I'm stationed on the Enterprise." Nunk smiled. Not that he would say anything, but he was right, Blont was wrong.
"Ah, so you were there when Voyager arrived?"
"Well, not exactly," she said with a bit of hesitation. "We met up with them about 30 hours after they returned. If you would excuse me?" She walked away, leaving Nunk shaking his head.
"Well?" Blont asked.
"She's from the Enterprise. But did you see her long luscious fingers?"
"Nunk, keep your mind on the job. And the Romulans?"
"She didn't mention the Romulans--surely Voyager recognized the Romulan ships?"
"Don't be stupid, of course they did." Blont frowned. "Try talking to that Vulcan. And pay attention, the Voyager crew are still wearing the older style uniforms." Blont said, shoving his brother toward the male ensign.
"I'm Nunk From the Fereginar Business Journal," he said.
"Ensign Vorik. I am under orders to not talk to the press, if you would excuse me."
"Wait! We understand you had dealings with the Ferengi in the Delta..." Nunk stopped speaking as Ensign Vorik moved out of range.
"That was smooth, brother," Blont said with a snarl. "Let me try." Nunk watched and listened as Blont approached a human male with blond hair.
"My name is Blont, I'm from the Fereginar Business News."
"Lieutenant Tom Paris," the man answered. "I didn't know the Ferengi had reporters."
"Yes we do, sir," Blont replied. "May I ask you some questions."
"Sure, but don't expect any answers." Tom laughed as he spoke.
"What was your job on Voyager?"
"I am...was the chief pilot."
Nunk wondered if this Tom Paris had been the one piloting the Delta Flyer. His brother didn't delve into that. "You must have a lot of stories to tell. Would you go back?"
"In a flash," Tom responded, "Assuming there was a way we could return safely and quickly."
"So, there is profit in the Delta Quadrant?"
"Profit, shmofit. Starfleet is looking for new worlds to explore...Excuse me, but I see my wife."
"But..." Blont turned to look at Nunk. "See, it wasn't that difficult."
"You gathered no new information."
"Yes, I did. You just didn't pay attention. You did notice that while there are numerous station security personnel in the area--not one bothered to ask for our credentials? And no one recognized us--considering your bumbling a year ago put us in the intergalactic most wanted database." Nunk didn't bother to say anything, and Blont just continued on. "You should have also noticed that the Voyager crew seems to be under orders to not talk much." Blont grinned, showing his pointed teeth. "We'll just have to try other tactics."
"Can't we just go home?" Nunk ducked when Blont swatted at him.
"No. When all else fails, try beer--a disgusting drink the hew-mans seem very fond of."
Nunk just nodded, wishing once again he dared to stand up to his brother. He ignored what Blont was saying and watched the passing people. A tall young man, with what looked like the remains of Borg hardware walked by. He was accompanied by two females. Nunk hit his brother hard. "Look," he hissed.
"Ahhh. The Borg male. Come, brother, let us go meet him." They trotted after the trio.
"Hello," Nunk said after Blont shoved him forward. "I'm Nunk from the Fereginar Business Weekly."
"Ferengi?" The younger female asked. "Didn't Uncle Neelix play a Ferengi once?"
"Yes, he did Naomi," the older female said. "But remember we aren't supposed to talk to the reporters."
"Yes, mom." Naomi reached over and grabbed the Borg-man's hand. "Come on, I want to see this place." Nunk glanced up. The Borg-man was much taller than he was.
"Mrs. Wildman, is this okay with you?" the man asked.
"Fine. I'll catch up with you later. Icheb, be careful. This place is noted for its criminal element."
Nunk turned to face his brother after Wildman party had walked away. "He's too big."
"But he would be an excellent source of Borg nanoprobes. There must be more of them in him because he is so tall."
"We should check out the female. She should be easier to catch. And maybe not so tall." Nunk knew he was whining, but didn't really care. Maybe he was secretly hoping Blont would send him home.
"We'll check her out...but I think he is going to be the better candidate." Blont started to walk very fast down the main corridor.
"Wait, Blont!" Nunk growled, then took off running.
Act 2
Janeway looked around the ready room of her ship and laughed. "Compared to the Enterprise, Voyager must seem tiny."
"The trend is for smaller ships. I'll just have to get used to *tiny.*" They both laughed, the Archer had a crew of just over 500.
"Will you miss the Enterprise?"
Riker nodded. "The Enterprise has been my home for a great many years, but I'm looking forward to captaining the Archer."
"Nice of them to finally name a ship after the first Enterprise's captain," Janeway said.
"Yes it is. Thanks for the tour," Riker said as she sat down on her couch. He sat down in a chair across from her. "Before you ask, I have no clue what is going on. Captain Picard contacted me this morning. Starfleet is sending him to meet with us at Deep Space Nine."
"Oh." That was an eight day trip, which meant their short stay on Deep Space Nine wasn't going to be so short. There had to be more to the situation than the Enterprise's captain wanted to return to his ship before the Enterprise escorted Voyager home. "Starfleet is not telling me anything either. Through out the trip, the closer we came to home, the more it sometimes felt they didn't want us to return."
"That's not true. You singlehandedly eliminated the Borg as a major threat for years if not decades, something even we couldn't do." They both chuckled.
"I'm not sure, the VFA..."
"Excuse me, the VFA?" Riker asked.
"The Voyager Family Association--I guess you could call them our lobbying group--but they say that a couple of the admirals are upset with our attempt at an alliance with the Borg."
"That would be Admiral Blanc. He should have retired years ago."
She raised her eyebrows. "You'll fit right in with the Captain's circle--already critiquing the brass. Or are you looking to being an admiral someday?"
Riker laughed. "Captains have more fun. I'm not the type to sit behind a desk and watch everyone else travel around the galaxy. Whatever you do, don't let them bump you upstairs."
"Fat chance of that."
"Don't count on it. It would be convenient for the admiralty to get you out of the way. But Starfleet is not so stupid to throw you or your crew in jail."
"So, you are telling me I'm being to pessimistic?" She smiled at her first officer's claim she was becoming too thorough in her appraisal of everything that could possibly go wrong.
"I don't know how much the VFA has told you, but when we discovered that you were alive, four years ago, the press became fascinated with everything and anyone associated with Voyager. And trust me, your return will trigger a *feeding frenzy*."
"And that's why Commander Craig is along."
"To control how much the sharks are fed and what they are fed."
"And just why is everyone so keen to keep the Romulans happy anyway? A few rogue ships..." she shook her head in frustration.
When Riker frowned, she wondered just what else Starfleet had *forgotten* to tell her about in the various intelligence communiqués sent to her over the past year. "Well," he said, "they were sort of tricked into signing the treaty. Captain Sisko managed it shortly before his death. I don't know all the details--I'm not sure if more than three or four people know the whole story."
"I understand, I think. So by ignoring the attack, we don't give the Romulans an excuse to break the treaty?"
"That's as good of reason as I've heard. The Romulan political picture is pretty dicey at the moment. The new emperor is struggling to maintain control--and there are rumors of a Tal Shiar coup attempt."
"Nothing new there." She stood. "It's the waiting. I just wish they would let us know something, anything..."
"Perhaps Captain Picard will have some news or orders."
They had been at Deep Space Nine for three days, and the only answer Starfleet had for her was, 'soon.' She wanted more than that. Damn it, they deserved an answer--good or bad.
Perhaps she should have Chakotay check out the rumors that the Bajoran government would offer the Maquis sanctuary. They deserved their freedom--they all did. Even the Equinox survivors. They had proved themselves many times over as fine people.
"Deanna and I enjoyed the meal, but I do need to return to my ship. Oh, do you think Neelix could find some leola root for us to try? I've heard about this Delta Quadrant wonder plant."
Janeway chuckled. "Wonder plant indeed: it's a cross between potato and paste. Poor Neelix, he was never able to get the replicators to recreate it. Some sort of glitch in the programming."
"I see." He winked, suggesting he did understand.
"Thank you for coming. I wish you good fortune with your upcoming promotion and marriage."
"Thanks." He paused. "Captain, just remember, you survived. That counts for a lot."
#
Normally, the proprietor of Quark's happiness was in direct proportion to the number of people who passed over his threshold in any given evening. The problem tonight was that virtually everyone who marched through his door was *just* passing through, on their way to the holosuite where Vic Fontaine's program was running.
"How does he do it? The most exquisite creatures on the station, and they're all in there with *him* tonight!" grumbled Quark to the two men slumped against his bar. Morn had been his usually chatty self all night, but since the hew-mon stranger had had so little to say, Quark didn't really expect much of a response from him. He was not disappointed.
At Morn's astute observation that the Ferengi was still pocketing a pretty pile of latinum, thanks to his share of the proceeds paid by Vic to "rent" his place, Quark shook his head vigorously in denial. "It's not Vic I'm talking about! It's that Paris guy in there!" Quark's sense of the injustice of it all was magnified by the identity of the man who was cozying up to all the women. Paris had history with the barkeep.
Quark never forgot a lost sale--not that he ever forgot a successful sale, exactly, but they didn't rankle like the futile ones. He could still remember that hew-mon, ruining one of his favorite sales pitches for young and naive officers just out of Starfleet Academy. At least that guy wasn't in there, too, schmoozing with his buddies, with a bodacious hew-mon female draped over his arm.
"Why does he need Colonel Kira in there, and our deliciously tart constable, Ro Laren--now that's one position on this station that has definitely been upgraded since the War, Morn, even if she is a little too perceptive for my tastes--and, okay, Deanna Troi *does* have her fiancée Riker in there with her--but why does Paris need so many lovelies at his table? With that luscious wife of his, what does he need with Kira and Ro, too?!"
At the mention of the beauteous B'Elanna Torres, Quark sighed deeply, leaning forward so he could catch a glimpse of her through the doorway. Those saucy forehead ridges beckoned to him. That rapier-witted tongue entranced him. He'd met many a hew-mon woman whose body and dexterous fingers could bring him bliss; his Grilka had been incomparably lovely; and this Paris had managed to snag a woman who epitomized the best qualities of both hew-mons and Klingons in one, adorable little package. The injustice of it all!
"It's not fair!" Quark moaned. "He's a tall, skinny guy. He's got feeble little lobes and water-colored eyes. He's nothing! It's a perfect example of a male getting lucky, Morn, just because he got thrown into a quadrant where there's a shortage of real males. Too bad Lieutenant Torres settled for him out in the Delta Quadrant. She could have had her pick of the creme de la creme once she got back here!"
Morn's response to Quark's tirade was to belch noisily, while the hew-mon leaning against the bar--no doubt the only way he could hold himself upright--slurped noisily at his drink and peered at Quark with his eyelids slitted tightly together in order to pierce the drunken haze that obviously was obstructing his vision. Morn and the hew-mon had eschewed synthehol in favor of the hard stuff all evening; Quark noted that both were well past the stage where they could actually taste their libations.
"Excuse me," Quark said, nodding to his two customers, and casually strolled over to his assistant Laria to instruct her to water down the pair's drinks for the rest of the evening. They'd thank Quark for it in the morning. Their hangovers wouldn't be nearly as severe, and why waste good liquor to nausea?
Just as Quark, his conscience salved by his compassion, started to cross back to the bar, another group of people filed through the doorway. Julian Bashir, who had Ezri Dax on his arm, waved a greeting, while Ezri cheerily called out "Hi, Quark!"
"Well, well, well! I see the Defiant is back! And where is my nephew?"
"Right here, Uncle," Nog answered, trailing in last of the half-dozen officers of the ship assigned to DS9 to enter the bar. "Where's the Voyager party?" he asked excitedly.
Quark pointed wordlessly towards Vic's and watched sourly as all six of the officers, his nephew included, trotted inside the club. He turned back towards the bar once more, but he hadn't taken two steps when a familiar voice said brightly, "Mr. Quark! Good evening! Have you met my son Harry and his girlfriend, Ensign Marla Gilmore?"
"Why, yes, yes I have," Quark answered. "How nice to see you again so soon, Lieutenant Kim."
While Quark had managed to paste his smile back on his face, he had less success keeping the chill out of his voice. Mr. Kim had been a key figure in two failed transactions, the first of which was the very one Mr. Paris had thwarted eight years ago, when he prevented the younger officer from purchasing several high-quality gemstones from Quark as gifts for his mother; the second occurring only the day before, when the now not-so-young officer had convinced his mother not to buy some perfectly good shares in a diamond mine. Quark was never going to forget Harry Kim.
He was not likely to forget Marla Gilmore, either. While Quark had a weakness for the fiery brunette or redhead type, the demure blonde's delicate beauty was something he wouldn't mind getting used to. "I don't believe I *have* had the pleasure of meeting you, Ensign Gilmore." The Ferengi smoothly glided towards the two females, his elbow extended for the shapely blonde to hold.
Harry Kim slipped his left arm protectively around Marla as Quark suavely picked up her hand. He was about to give the hand a kiss but stopped, deciding it was no use. From the amused glance she shared with Mr. Kim, it was clear: this one was already spoken for.
"Is this the way to Vic's Place?" Harry asked blandly.
Since the entrance to that holosuite was brightly outlined by a neon sign flashing "Vic's" in fuchsia letters; clusters of people were laughing just inside the doorway; and Vic's voice was sailing out of the room, flying him to the moon so he could play among the stars--or some such nonsense; Quark took this question to be disingenuous at best. He was ever the gracious host, however, and politely waved them towards Vic's door.
"Oh, Harry, I see B'Elanna and Tom in here," Marla said.
"I might have known," Quark muttered.
As Lieutenant Kim steered his girlfriend towards Vic's he called, "Come on in, Mom. The party might break up when they go to meet the ship from Earth."
"Oh, you go right along, Harry dear. I want to have a word with Mr. Quark first."
The lieutenant whispered a few words into the ensign's ear, and she resumed walking into the club. Harry hung back, warily eyeing Quark.
The Ferengi smiled broadly at the young man. He wasn't about to ruin his relationship with the mother by being rude to her son, no matter how insufferable he might be. To do that would be to dash any hopes he still might entertain for making further sales to her. "Yes, Mrs. Kim? What can I do for you today?"
"I didn't actually want to ask you to do anything for me, Mr. Quark. I wanted to thank you for being so kind to my son the last time he was on this station. You know, he's brought me some lovely presents from the Delta Quadrant--pretty stones and gifts from markets he collected along the route home--and he told me just today that *you* were the one who suggested he might want to bring some souvenirs from his first mission home to me! It was so thoughtful of you. Thank you so much."
The woman was beaming, with no hint of sarcasm in her smile. A quick glance in the son's direction confirmed Mrs. Kim's sincerity. Surely, that look of acute embarrassment on Mr. Kim's face could only mean he wanted to sink through the floor of the bar rather than be reminded of when he was rescued by the equally insufferable Lieutenant Paris, who was prancing around the dance floor with his daughter in his arms while Vic Fontaine sang some execrable verse about doing it his way.
Quark bestowed one of his most bedazzling smiles upon Mrs. Kim. "No thanks are necessary, Mrs. Kim. I have always felt a special affinity for our brave young officers at the very beginning of their careers. They do so need to be nurtured appropriately during their first missions in order to learn how to surmount any challenge with complete self-confidence."
While Mrs. Kim apparently did not hear the groan that issued forth from her son's throat when she reached out and embraced the Ferengi with a warm hug, Quark's sharp hearing detected it easily. With a flourish, he slipped his hand beneath Mrs. Kim's arm and escorted her to her son and tipped his head upon delivery. "Have a wonderful evening, Mrs. Kim. Come back later and tell me all about it," he called after them as they escaped into Vic's.
The spring had returned to Quark's step when he paced back to the bar where his hew-mon and Lurian customers were still ensconced. He may not have made a sale tonight, but knowing with certainty that neither Mrs. Kim nor her son would ever forget Quark made it a little easier to bear. And there was always a chance he would get to move some more merchandise tomorrow. Mrs. Kim loved to shop.
#
Joe could barely contain his excitement. He would be seeing Anne in less than an hour! It was a good thing they'd decided to move their vigil into Vic's place. Bouncing around on the dance floor was a socially acceptable way for Joe to expend all the nervous energy that threatened to make him either burst at the seams or totally embarrass himself by dissolving into tears. To be so far away, and now so close, yet still not be together...Joe was agonized and ecstatic at the same time.
He wasn't the only one, he didn't think. B'Elanna was having a very tough time keeping Tom from pinging around the room like a cue ball. Bringing baby Miral into the nightclub had seemed like a crazy idea at first, but everyone agreed that Tom's parents couldn't be denied seeing their granddaughter even for as long as it would take to travel back to Voyager to get her. From the looks B'Elanna kept shooting in Joe's direction--when she wasn't huffing in exasperation at her husband--the chief engineer apparently had more regrets allowing Tom into the club than she did having her daughter there. Miral had been amazingly angelic the entire time--probably because the Doctor had surrounded her with gentle background music during her nap, prolonging it well beyond its usual hour and a half length. She was lively, sociable, and hadn't cried even once. How long that would last was anybody's guess, as it was 2200 by ship's time and soon, long nap or no, she would need to go to bed.
That ship from Earth had better arrive soon!
The music from the bandstand stopped right after several members of the Defiant's crew, closely followed by Marla, Harry, and Mrs. Kim, joined the party.
"Hey, there, everyone. Having a good time?" Vic asked as he approached the group. Everyone agreed that they were, indeed, having a great time. The hologram turned his attention to the baby in her father's arms next. "And your little missy, here, *what* a trouper! I haven't heard a peep out of her all night. She's really going to be some looker, there, Tommy. You're going to have to beat the boys away with a stick!"
"Knowing Tom, it will be a bat'leth," B'Elanna shot back, to general laughter.
Tom laughed along good-naturedly. "If she takes after her mother, I'm not going to have to worry. She'll be able to take care of herself."
Joe wondered how B'Elanna would take that, but from the way his boss glowed, she obviously considered it a compliment. Thinking back upon Tom and B'Elanna's courtship, Joe ruefully had to agree. Joe caught himself as he was about to rub his formerly-broken nose and chuckled as he remembered how intense she'd been--how intense everyone on the ship had been, to be truthful--eight years ago. So much had changed. Now, everything was about to change again. Sometimes he still didn't know what he was really feeling. The only thing he was sure would bring him complete and unalloyed joy was being reunited with his family again.
The group happily "schmoozed" with Vic for several minutes. Tal Celes and the Delaney sisters asked Deanna Troi about her upcoming wedding. "Are you going to do a traditional Betazoid wedding? Will everybody be naked?" Joe overheard Jenny ask Troi shrilly. From the sparkle he noted in Jenny's eye, the Delaney twin seemed just a little too fascinated by the concept for Joe's comfort.
The rest of the group seemed reserved in comparison. Riker discussed his upcoming transfer to his own command with Kira and Ayala. Harry danced with his mother to what Vic referred as "canned music," while Brian Sofin, Marla Gilmore, and Angelo Tessoni spoke softly together in a corner. Samantha Wildman chatted with Rollins, Neelix, and Sarexa next to the dance floor, Sam's voice uncharacteristically high-pitched as she described her conversation with her husband.
The Defiant crew was circling among the tables, introducing themselves and congratulating everyone on Voyager for making it home. Meeting the young Ferengi lieutenant named Nog had been a real shocker to Joe. He never thought he'd ever see the day when that would happen. Vic, who referred to Nog several times as his "partner in crime," was seemingly unaware, or didn't care, that Nog was mingling with the crowd as if he owned the place. Joe had a hunch there was a story there he wouldn't mind hearing, but he didn't know if he would get the chance.
Anne and his boys were coming. They would be here in half an hour. Maybe less!
When Vic strolled back up to the bandstand, Joe didn't think he could stand waiting any longer. When Ro Laren got up and said she had a stop to make before the ship got in, Joe thought about going along with her. Tom stopped him.
"Joe, could I ask you a big favor?"
"Sure, Tom. What is it?"
"I'd like to take a turn on the dance floor with my wife, but my 'little missy' here needs a dance partner. Would you...?"
"I'd be delighted. Come here, Darlin'. If the music is lively enough, we'll do a jig. How about that?" Joe said to the bright-eyed little girl in his arms.
The music didn't cooperate; it was a slow number. Vic's mellow voice delivering the lyrics caressed the crowd. Even though Miral was just shy of her first birthday, somehow she understood what was happening--or maybe she was finally getting tuckered out enough to relax in his arms. She leaned her shiny cap of curls against Joe's cheeks while Joe glided around the floor with her. He passed Megan Delaney dancing with Jimmy Morrow; Jenny with Hugh Murphy; Naomi with Icheb; and Mulcahey whirling Golwat around without any regard for the music's tempo, and neither one caring a whit. Joe thought the words--longing for adventure, breaths of springtime, and angel's wings--were all weirdly suited to the evening.
Even though only a few members of the crew would be meeting their loved ones this evening, the large group had spontaneously come together to celebrate their arrival. It was as if, by proxy, everyone was meeting family tonight. For certain, they wanted to be with their Voyager crew mates to share their joy. Not many were missing. Tuvok was on bridge duty, and a skeleton crew manned Voyager's stations, but just about the only others unaccounted for were Captain Janeway and Chakotay. And Joe had a hunch they were celebrating, too, in their own way. The thought brought a smile to his face.
As the song ended, the entire dance floor hushed as Colonel Kira responded to a signal from her comm badge. "Thank you, Tovan. Kira out." She turned to the center of the room and announced, smiling, "She's here! The ship from Earth will dock in ten minutes! Paris, Carey, and Ayala, let's go!"
Cheering crew mates surrounded him, patting him on the back, telling him he needed to hurry! It's time! That's what he knew they had to be saying. The buzz around him was so intense it turned to white noise. His senses were overloaded. The baby, so solid in his arms, suddenly clutched his neck as if she were unwilling to leave him. Tom's face, then B'Elanna's, swam into view. Miral released her hold upon Joe, yet she didn't leave his embrace. Instead, Tom and B'Elanna and Miral all gathered around and hugged him.
And the tears came.
#
Most of Voyager's crew had remained in Vic's, as Ro had requested. The pylon corridors weren't wide enough to provide a show. That didn't mean Ro didn't understand any disappointment the ones left behind might feel, for she couldn't suppress the flush of excitement she felt herself. It had been a long time since Ro had had any blood relatives; her adopted families on Enterprise and in the Maquis had ended badly. And while she was a little apprehensive about meeting with Admiral Paris again, she looked forward to seeing Tom's mother. Mrs. Paris had been so kind to her when Ro had been a lonely student at Starfleet Academy, Ro had always wanted to remain in touch with her. Circumstances had prevented that for many years, but now, perhaps, they could make a connection again.
When the iris to the airlock opened, Ro stepped aside to let the true family members surge forward to greet their loved ones. Alicia Paris was the first one in view. "Tom! Oh, Tom!" she called out and ran out to greet him. Ro felt a vicarious rush of joy as Tom wrapped his mother inside his arms. They hugged each other powerfully for a few seconds, but then Mrs. Paris took a step back and asked, "B'Elanna! And Miral! Oh, she's so precious. And Icheb? Oh, it's wonderful to finally meet you. I don't know what else to say! I'm so happy...!" Tom opened his arms to allow his wife, daughter, and soon-to-be brother inside the family circle. Ro shivered with delight at the sight of the expression on Tom's face. It was good to see her old friend so happy. He deserved it.
After several older adults who were apparently unconnected with Voyager came through the iris, a teenaged boy appeared. He was red-haired, looking so much like Lieutenant Carey that Ro wasn't surprised at all when he squealed "Dad!" in a little kid's voice and launched himself into Carey's arms. He was followed closely by another teenaged boy and a tearful woman, who also rushed into Carey's arms. Their muffled sobs of joy and the overwhelming emotions so vividly shown on their faces made Ro, a stranger, feel like a voyeur; she had to look away.
Several more people walked through, pointedly ignoring the two family groups as they walked around them. Because of the heads passing in her way, Ro couldn't catch any sight of Admiral Paris coming out of the doorway. Moving out of the way of the passers-by, she bumped against the man standing beside her. "I'm sorry...Ayala," she said, when she realized who it was. "I didn't mean to step on you."
He nodded wordlessly, distracted as he looked over her head. Ro turned back, wondering where his son was, when she saw a boy who had to be Luis.
Ayala shouted the boy's name at that very moment. Heedless of other passengers trying to pass through, Ayala covered the space between them in three long strides and held out his arms. The boy croaked out, "Papa!" and returned Ayala's crushing, almost desperate embrace.
Ro stared at them, unable to tear her eyes away. When she met him, she had thought Ayala a nice looking man who, from his coloring and the sharp crease across the bridge of his nose, could have a little Bajoran blood in him. This boy resembled his father, but Ro was stunned to see, from his nose, there was no doubt about this boy's heritage. Luis was part Bajoran.
So intent was Ro upon the reunion of the father and son, the sound of a voice calling her name didn't register at first. When it did, she turned to find Alicia Paris standing in front of her, holding out her arms for a hug. "Ro Laren! Oh, it's so good to see you! I can't tell you how worried I'd been about you until we heard you were here on DS9!"
Ro was tempted to say something sarcastic about Alicia being just about the only one who would have been unhappy if she were lost, as she was usually inclined to do, but she couldn't do it. Not this time. This was Tom's mother, the woman who had opened her home and her heart to her when she had no place to go during the holidays on Earth, who always had treated Ro like a third daughter. So Ro simply said, "It's good to see you, too, Mrs. Paris...I mean, Alicia."
The woman laughed. "You remembered! I wondered if you would."
"I remember, I just can't seem to get it out right, as often as you've corrected me. And Admiral Paris? Where is he?" Ro looked around for him, but she realized her mistake when she saw the stiff way Tom's mouth was pursed.
"Oh, Ro, I'm sorry. I thought you'd seen the ship's manifest. Admiral Paris couldn't get away. He was heartbroken, but you know how it is in Starfleet. Duty calls sometimes."
While Ro knew Mrs. Paris sincerely meant what she said, Ro couldn't meet her eyes, nor did she dare look at Tom. Instead, Ro and B'Elanna exchanged glances--more like stares--and Ro felt even more like a spiritual sister to Tom's half-Klingon wife than she had when they had first met. Was it really only four days ago now? It seemed as if they had always known each other--or maybe it was because, as strong women who had always felt like outsiders, they had led lives that were similar in many ways. Whatever it was, Ro resolved to talk to B'Elanna later on, to see if there was anything she wanted her to say or do for Tom...but Admiral Paris, staunch supporter of the Pathfinder Project, not able to find the time to greet the ship his only son was lost on for eight years? Whatever could she say about that to make Tom feel better?
"Should we go back to Vic's, to the party?" Carey called over. "Everyone should still be waiting for us. They all wanted to meet you."
Ro looked over at B'Elanna's assistant, grateful for his intervention at such a sticky moment, even though he probably had no idea about what had transpired.
As they filed down the corridor, Ro found herself falling into step behind Lieutenant Ayala and his son. The man walked with his arm on his son's shoulder. Neither one said a word, but Ro took this as a good sign--of hearts too full for words rather than because they had nothing to express.
As she walked, Ro found her concern for her friend Tom superseded by something else, a problem that had haunted her for the past four years. Resolving it might be just as difficult for some people to deal with as anything that had happened to the "Voyagers" so far, if her suspicions were correct. She'd just have to find out if she was right and then act on that knowledge in the best way for everyone concerned.
It was all up to Ro.
#
The Doctor stood just inside the entrance of Vic's and looked around. Vic himself had contacted him and asked him to stop by, and he couldn't imagine why. Despite his confusion, though, he was impressed by what he saw. This was a sophisticated program -- easily the equal of Lieutenant Paris' best efforts. He flagged a passing waiter.
"I'm looking for someone named Vic,' he shouted, over the din.
The waiter turned and gestured toward a man in a tuxedo, who was chatting with patrons at a nearby table.
"Someone asking for you, boss,' the waiter said, as the man approached, smiling in recognition.
"Hey, you must be the Doc," the man said, extending his hand. "I'm Vic. It's great to meet you -- one lightbulb to another."
The Doc bristled. "Speak for yourself," he said. "I am not your ordinary hologram."
"Hey, that's what they tell me, too," Vic said, grinning. He slapped the Doctor on his shoulder, and began steering him across the room. "Listen," he said. "I hope to get a chance to chat with you later, but right now I have customers to take care of. Besides, there's someone here to see you."
"To see me?" the Doctor said, perplexed.
"Yep," Vic confirmed. "A dame."
"A dame?" the Doctor repeated, starting to feel a little foolish.
"And she's a long, cool drink of water, too," Vic added, conspiratorially, "if you know what I mean."
The Doctor didn't, but he opted not to admit it. They reached a table in the corner, and a statuesque blond woman in an evening gown stood up and smiled broadly.
"Haley!" the Doctor exclaimed.
Haley hugged him, and the Doctor returned the embrace. Up until this moment, he hadn't realized how unsettled he'd felt since Voyager docked. His shipmates' reunions with loved ones just emphasized how uncertain his own future was, and he was starting to realize that here in the Alpha Quadrant, he might be looked at as more of an oddity than anything else. On Voyager, he'd been a team member -- part of a family. Here...it was difficult to say. Yet here was someone who was genuinely happy to see him. It felt good.
"How did you get here?" he asked, as they pulled apart.
Vic interrupted. "You two enjoy yourselves. I'll check back with you later." With a wave, he was off.
The Doctor pulled a chair out for Haley, then sat down next to her.
"It was Lewis," Haley said, responding to his earlier question. "He keeps in pretty close contact with Reg, so he knew Voyager was on its way to Deep Space Nine. He really wanted to be here, himself, but he couldn't get away. So he sent my program to Dr. Bashir in his stead, to welcome you home."
"Excuse me." A waiter appeared out of nowhere, and gestured gruffly towards the chair on the other side of the table. "I'm sorry, but we don't serve iguanas in here."
The Doctor peered over the table at the chair in question. "Leonard!" he exclaimed. "You, too?"
Haley turned a dazzling smile on the waiter, and touched his arm. "Oh, it's all right," she said. "He's here as a personal guest of Vic's."
The waiter looked Haley over, clearly impressed. "Well, if it's okay with the boss, it's okay with me," he smiled. "You just let me know if you need anything. Anything at all."
"Will do," she said, sweetly, waggling her fingers at him as he left.
"Jerk," Leonard said, to the waiter's retreating back.
"You tell him, Leonard," the Doctor said. As he turned back to Haley, she picked up a cigarette that had been smoldering in an ashtray next to the small lamp on their table. With her wrist bent back in a picturesque way, she lifted it to her lips.
Horrified, the Doctor yanked it out of her hand. "What are you doing?" he asked, vigorously stubbing it out. "Smoking is an unhealthy, disgusting habit!"
Haley blinked. "It's a holographic cigarette," she protested.
"It...well..." the Doctor blustered. "That's irrelevant," he finally blurted out. "It sets a bad example. Besides, it will make your holographic breath smell like an ashtray."
Haley stared at him for a moment, then picked up the ashtray and gave it an experimental sniff. She wrinkled her nose. "I see what you mean," she conceded.
"What's gotten into you?" the Doctor asked. "You seemed like such a sensible person on Jupiter Station."
Haley sighed. "I don't know. I've been watching the people here. The women with the cigarettes looked so sophisticated and sultry. This is all just...incredible. I mean, look at this place! It's wonderful! I've never been out of Lewis' lab. Not once since I was activated -- that's almost twelve years!"
"Ah," the Doctor said, finally understanding. He remembered his own first ventures outside of Sickbay fondly.
"But enough about me," she said, smiling and returning her full attention to her companion. "What were we talking about?"
"You were saying that Dr. Zimmerman was sorry he couldn't come in person, something which, frankly, I find difficult to believe. The last time he saw me, he told me I was arrogant and irritable. He also mentioned that I shouldn't expect him to put me in his will."
"Oh, but he did put you in his will!" Haley said. Then, grimacing, she added, "I guess I shouldn't have told you that."
"Well, since you did, what am I getting?" the Doctor asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
She nodded towards Leonard, her eyes twinkling.
The Doctor smiled, and peered over at the sluggish iguana again. "How about that, Leonard?" he said. "At least I'll be a familiar face."
"A familiar face," Leonard said, sagely.
"Seriously," Haley said, sobering, "Lewis is really quite proud of you, although he'd never admit it. He's written several papers about your adaptations and accomplishments in the Delta Quadrant. And he's trying to get the other Mark 1's off of the waste barges. He says he gave up the fight too soon, originally."
"We could work together on that!" the Doctor said, with real enthusiasm. He didn't know exactly what he wanted to do in the future, or what he'd even be 'permitted' to do, but holographic rights was still a cause near and dear to his holographic heart. Despite the prickliness of their prior interactions, he liked the idea of fighting this particular battle alongside his creator.
"Count me in, too," Haley said, as if reading his mind.
"Wonderful!" the Doctor said. "How about you, Leonard?"
But Leonard wasn't listening. Instead, he was staring intently at the piano player up on the stage, bobbing his head slowly up and down with to the rhythm of the music.
Vic suddenly appeared, and gave the iguana an approving glance. "He's got the beat," he said. "I should put him to work up there. How's everybody doing?"
"Just fine," the Doctor said. "We were talking about organizing a fight for holographic rights. Do you want in? You're articulate and intelligent -- not your ordinary lightbulb. I'm sure you would be more than a suitable spokes-hologram."
Vic tilted his head, considering. "I don't think so," he finally said. "I've never had a problem with rights, so I have no stories to tell. And I think I can do more good right where I am -- changing minds one customer at a time."
The Doctor smiled, and nodded. "That's probably true," he said. "The organics won't truly understand our plight until they've gotten to know a few of us."
Haley agreed, too. "I'm sure anyone who comes into this place leaves with a good impression of it, and you," she told Vic. She looked around again, almost wide-eyed with awe. "This is just incredible."
Remembering again how fortunate he'd been in so many ways, the Doctor suddenly had an idea.
"Haley," he said, "How would you like to see the rest of the station? You could use my mobile emitter, and take a look around. The Promenade is really something to see, even for a jaded old space traveler such as myself."
"Could I?" she asked, so excited that she half rose out of her chair. "That would be wonderful! Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Of course not," he said. "As long as you give it back," he added, with a somewhat nervous laugh. Then, because it would be rude not to, he asked, "How about it, Vic? Would you like to 'take a spin,' too?"
Vic chuckled and waved him off. "Not me. I've got everything I need right here. But thanks for the invite, Doc." After glancing up at the stage, he added, "As a matter of fact, I've got a set to do. I'll catch you all later. It was great meeting both of you. And you, too, Lenny."
He left them and strolled up to the stage. Once he stepped into the spotlight, the crowd began to applaud. The Doctor was somewhat relieved, because, if the truth be told, he did mind sharing his mobile emitter. Not with Haley, so much, because she was a friend and colleague, but if he starting lending it to just anybody...well, who knows what might happen. The power grid might go down, and his very existence would depend on strange DS9 holoemitters, bartenders and engineers. He nearly shuddered.
But Haley looked so enthusiastic that he swallowed his reluctance, and, with a few quick taps on the controls of the mobile emitter, downloaded his file into Vic's Place. He removed the emitter, and put it on Haley's arm. "Why don't you take a walk around the station. I'll have Voyager upload me back to my sickbay, and you can join me there in a little while." He leaned onto the table and tried his best to look suave and debonair. "I'd really like to show you...Doc's Place."
She smiled warmly, and as she did, Vic began to sing. It was something about a knife named Mac; the Doctor couldn't quite figure it out. He and Haley watched as people began to congregate on the dance floor.
"That sounds like a perfect plan," Haley said. "But before I go..." She stood up and reached out a hand. "Would you care to dance?"
The Doctor smiled. "I'd love to," he replied.
#
"I'll answer the door," Tom said, unnecessarily, as it turned out. His mother and his wife were too busy trading pregnancy and childbirth stories while Miral was playing the "I'll jump to her, now let me jump to you" game, alternately squealing and giggling all the while.
"Enter," he called out. The door slid back, to reveal Ro Laren.
"Hasn't that baby been put to bed *yet?*" Ro exclaimed as she stepped inside, to the chorus of hellos from the Paris family.
"Oh, we know we should. She's about to crash any second, but she's so wired from being overtired, we hate to fight with her about it." As if to confirm her father's comment, Miral began rubbing her fingers clumsily over her eyelids.
"Dear, me, Daddy knows best," B'Elanna said, glancing sharply up at her husband.
"Is that another twentieth century 'telly show' joke?" Alicia Paris asked.
"Yes, it is. He's got a million of them."
"More like a thousand," Tom corrected, "but someday, maybe I can get it up there, if only I can find an undiscovered cache of vids..."
"Do you still have that same obsession, Tom?" Ro asked.
"Yes, he does," B'Elanna answered firmly for him, as she took to her feet.
"Oh, my, yes. Internal combustion engines, rock music, 2-D videos...Tom's always loved the twentieth century. I can't imagine living in such a primitive time, but Tom was always prepared to go back to that period." Oblivious to the amused glances her son and daughter-in-law sent each other, Alicia gave her granddaughter another hug and passed her to her mother.
"I don't mind *all* his twentieth century holoprograms," B'Elanna admitted. "The movie theater one is fun. It can be so nice and cozy to cuddle up in the dark, watching a romantic movie...right, Sweetling?" B'Elanna tried to prevent her daughter from squirming her way down to her grandmother, who was slowly getting up from the floor. "Miral really is going to melt down any minute. I really should get her ready for bed."
"May I help you, please? I never get tired of helping give a baby her bath."
"I wasn't planning on giving her another bath, but it might relax her and help her get to sleep, considering how much her routine has been broken today," B'Elanna said.
"Whenever Tommy got overtired I would give him a bath to calm him down, but with Tommy, I also had to..." Alicia's voice trailed off as she followed her daughter-in-law into the Paris family dressing room/bath area.
Shaking her head as they left, Ro collapsed on the sofa next to Tom. "You know, your daughter is going to be spoiled rotten by her grandparents."
"My daughter is already spoiled rotten by everyone on Voyager. She thinks everyone should adore her. And everybody does. Even Vic Fontaine, holographic entertainer, was totally smitten," Tom replied with a grin.
"You're right about that. Vic is always charming, but I haven't seen him gush like that before over anyone," Ro answered.
What he wouldn't give to spend more time in that program! Talk about wallowing in the twentieth century! Tom wondered if he could convince the captain to download a copy into their database...but no, there wasn't much reason to do that. He probably wasn't going to be on Voyager much longer anyway. He sighed a little for the lost opportunity, but to Laren, he said, "Of course, most of the 'dames' walking into his place don't look anything at all like Miral."
"No, that's true. They're a little taller!" Ro laughed.
"Give her a few years, though, and she'll be just as beautiful as any of them." Tom said confidently.
"Not that you're prejudiced, or anything..."
"Not at all. She's gonna be a real 'looker,' just like Vic says! But enough about my spoiled-rotten daughter. What brings you here so late in the evening, Laren?"
"I wanted to speak to you in private about something. I should have called first," Ro said. "I didn't think your mother would still be here."
"No problem. What did you want to speak about?"
Ro hesitated a moment, taking a breath before plunging in. "I've heard you're a full-fledged field medic now, Tom."
"You have need of my expertise?"
"I have a few samples of DNA I'd like compared to those of your crew."
"Is there a reason you want me to handle it, instead of the Doc?"
"No offense to your Doctor, but I know you, Tom. You like to give the impression of someone who is a real blabbermouth, but you can keep your own counsel if you need to. And for various reasons, I don't want this to get out to anyone until there's a need for it to get out--assuming there even is a need."
Tom immediately flashed upon Ro, uncharacteristically staring at Ayala and his son as they were reunited. "This have anything to do with...some missing Maquis family members?"
"It might," she said blandly. In other words, absolutely.
"I'm sure I could slip into Sickbay and run DNA scans...I assume that's what you want me to do, as a field medic."
"You won't even have to. I've got a complete genome report I can upload to you. All you have to do is compare it to the crews' genomes and see if there's a match."
"I can do that. I could probably do that from here."
"Good. I wouldn't want to cut into your family time."
The pang in his heart couldn't quite be suppressed. "No problem," he said, probably a little too quickly, slipping on the Paris mask of unconcern. Laren had always had the disconcerting ability to see right through him, however, that even B'Elanna had needed time to develop. Ro tilted her head and gazed at him shrewdly.
"Okay," she drawled. "So how are *you,* really? I was a little disappointed at first when I heard your father couldn't come. I'm sure it was worse for you."
"Nah, not at all. It's par for the course."
"Oh, please, don't give me that! It had to be a...what did you used to call it? I think Vic says it sometimes--a 'bummer'?"
He was unable to hold back a sigh. "Okay. It was disappointing didn't make it. Of course it was. But it's a fact of Starfleet life. I know it; you know it; we all know it. I'll get over it."
"I hope you mean that, Tom. What your mother said about the admiral being heartbroken when he wasn't able to come--I think that's true. Your mom wouldn't have said that if it wasn't. Maybe getting away now, just when the Pathfinder Project is so close to being completed, *is* impossible for him. Sometimes we should take things at face value, you know?"
"Yeah, sure."
She didn't respond with anything but one of her deep, deliberate stares. It was a cross between B'Elanna's and Janeway's glares.
Tom was not unaffected, although he strove not to show it. "Look, I do mean it. I'll get over it. And if you want me to do that little project you want me to do, I'll need the data file."
Tom was sure she was perfectly aware of why he had suddenly changed the subject, but she said, "All right. I'll take my own advice and take *that* at face value. But I'll listen if you want me to...or better yet, talk to your wife. I'm sure she can pound some sense into you if you need it."
That brought a genuine smile to his face. "You like B'Elanna?"
"Very much. She's almost frighteningly smart--and tough. Despite your taste for the 'dames,' I always thought you couldn't be satisfied with anyone who didn't have a lot more to her than just looks. I'm glad to see I was right."
"I've always had great taste in women."
Ro rolled her eyes and groaned at that, but she let it stand and took to her feet. "I should go now, but I'll make sure to clear some time so we can all get together for dinner and a nice long visit before Voyager leaves."
"Definitely. Best to check with B'Elanna about when. Until the engines are in perfect working order, she's the one with the tighter schedule." Tom got up and walked with Ro to the doorway.
"I'll do that. Say good-bye to B'Elanna and your mom for me. Good night, Tom."
With a wave, she stepped out into the corridor. Tom stood, staring at the closed door and lost in his own musings--or more properly, riding that emotional roller coaster of his. The ride never seemed to end, even when he thought it was almost over.
"So, what's this project she wants your help with?" B'Elanna said, startling him out of his reverie.
"Oh, um," he mumbled, stalling for time so he could remember what it was B'Elanna was referring to. Yeah, right, something Ro didn't want anyone to know about, including B'Elanna. "Just a few pieces of data Ro wants analyzed in our Sickbay. She didn't want to bother the Doc about it, so she asked me since she knows me."
"I should think she'd have let Doctor Bashir ask the Doctor to do it," B'Elanna said mildly.
He should have known he couldn't have gotten away with his dissembling, but it had been worth a try. He'd have to tell B'Elanna as much of the truth he could dare to and still stay true to his promise to Ro. "Ro asked me not to say anything about it to *anyone* until she had the answers she needed. I don't know for sure what she's looking for, although I have my suspicions. I'll tell you as soon as Ro tells me I can. Is that okay with you?"
"Okay." B'Elanna took his hand and pulled him back to the sofa. As she sat, she dragged him down next to her. Once he had a lap, she climbed onto it with a suggestive wiggle.
"Don't you think Miral might need that lap?" he said, his leer totally belying the surface meaning of his words.
"Not anytime soon. Her grandmother is too busy ooing and ahing over her perfect little toes and skin--which is going to be all wrinkled up like a prune before she lets her out of the tub," B'Elanna sighed. "I'm sure she'll be happy to do the cuddling and story-reading tonight, too."
"Big of you, to share the wealth," he remarked.
B'Elanna leaned next to his ear and whispered, "Miral is in good hands. I need to make sure you are, too."
Tom chuckled lightly. "Didn't trust me with Ro? You don't have to worry about her. If you heard about 'my project,' you heard what she had to say about you."
"Oh, I heard her. I like her, too. I wish she had been on the Liberty instead of Seska! We'd have had a lot less trouble with the Kazon--even if I would have had competition for you."
"Nah. You and I were meant to be," Tom said softly, meaning it with all his heart.
B'Elanna gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I know. But what I meant was, I saw you staring through the closed door after Ro had left, lost inside your head. I'm going to repeat Ro's question...How are you, really? And I want an honest answer--or I'll pound it out of you, like Ro said I would."
He didn't smile at the softening joke at the end. The ache in his heart hurt too much for a smile just then. Joke or not, though, he knew she'd never let it go until he was honest with her. "I can't help it, B'Elanna. Every time I think I've gotten over what happened between my father and me in the past, something comes up to slap me in the face with it again. I really thought that this time, I had earned his respect. I expected him to be as excited by my homecoming as I was. But it wasn't enough for him to meet us here. Hell, I've come a lot further than half way! Have I deluded myself into thinking that anything has changed?"
"Tom, just because he isn't here doesn't mean he doesn't care!"
"He's the *head* of the Pathfinder Project! If he couldn't get away, who could?"
"Hey, do you see *anyone* directly connected with Pathfinder here? I don't!" B'Elanna pointed out. "Ro said it--and I agree with her: There may be things that have to be done connected with our return that we know nothing about--things he simply cannot leave in the hands of anyone else. Accept that!"
In his heart, he just couldn't wash away the feeling that his father could have come, if he really wanted to, but Tom said, "Maybe you're right."
"I *am* right. Do you know why Anne Carey and the boys are here?"
"She's the head of the Voyager Family Association."
"She is, but that's not how she got here. Your father pulled the strings to get all four of them on the starship from Earth because at the last minute, he couldn't come. In fact, your parents were supposed to be on the ship with Gretchen Janeway to be here before we were, but your father had to cancel because he couldn't get away. They rescheduled for another ship few days later, but when he still couldn't come, he made arrangements to squeeze Anne and the boys on the ship to keep your mother company. That doesn't sound like he didn't want to come to me."
"Where did you hear all of this?"
"Anne told me at Vic's tonight, before we came home."
Tom shrugged his shoulders. Maybe she *was* right.
"Hey, do you see any sign of *my* father here? Fat chance!"
At the bitterness in her voice, Tom closed his arms around her tightly, hugging her as close as he could. Here he was, wallowing in his own pain, when B'Elanna had her own troubles. At least his mother was here, whereas B'Elanna's mother was in Sto-Vo-Kor. And if John Torres had tried to contact them via subspace to welcome his daughter home but had missed them, they'd surely have gotten a message to call him back. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I'm an idiot."
"No, you're not. You're just pig-headed sometimes."
"At least it's only my head that's a pig now," Tom said lightly, making B'Elanna laugh.
"Yeah, well, it depends on how often I catch you in Vic's program before I can be the judge of that," she said, but her smile was genuine, and his own mood lightened measurably.
His mother's voice made both Tom's and B'Elanna's heads whip around. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said hesitantly.
"Not at all," B'Elanna said teasingly. "I was just keeping Tom's lap warmed up for Miral. She likes to 'hog' it all the time."
"Touché," Tom said, as B'Elanna slipped off his lap and his mother carried a chortling Miral to his outstretched arms.
As Miral settled into her father's arms, Alicia remarked, "I see Ro has gone?"
"Yes, a while ago. She said to say good-bye to you," Tom said.
"I should be going, too. Gretchen will wonder where I've wandered off to."
"I'm sure she'd know right where to find you, but I'll walk you to the guest quarters," B'Elanna said. "It's Tom's turn tonight for 'bedtime duty', and it's *get-ting...ve-ry...late*."
"Yes, ma'am!" Tom said, a salute implicit in his tone. "So, Miral, what will it be tonight? You want 'Green Eggs and Ham'? Or 'Hop on Pop'?"
"G'eenEggs!" Miral said, pushing herself out of her father's arms to run and get the bound book on her shelf.
"C'mon, Alicia. They won't even notice we're gone," B'Elanna said.
Alicia stayed at the doorway, smiling at Tom as he read the opening pages of the story to Miral, before moving through the door with B'Elanna. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother slip her arm around his wife's shoulder and just barely heard her say, "I never thought I'd see the day...I'm so happy to see Tom so happy. And you, too, B'Elanna."
He didn't hear his wife's reply, as the door slid closed behind them, but he was certain he would be gratified by her response. It was wonderful to see how quickly his mother and B'Elanna had taken to each other--not necessarily something that happened between mothers-and daughters-in-law, from what he'd heard. He would take comfort from that, just as he did from the very presence of his precious little girl, who was starting to rub her sleepy head into the side of his chest as he read the line, "I do not like them, Sam-I-Am," for the fourth time.
He would take what comfort he could in all of that, and ignore the dull ache in his heart that had lived there, for as long as he could remember, when he thought of his own father.
#
Commander Craig took the menu the Bajoran waitress offered him and glanced at it. He didn't feel like hesperat tonight, but he would ask about the special. He pulled out his PADD and activated it. He turned at the sound of voices. It was Lieutenant Paris and his wife. They didn't notice him as the hostess escorted them toward the back.
He didn't start reading. Two male voices from the booth behind him, caught his attention. "Aren't they from that Voyager ship?"
"*Yep, big heroes*. Did you see the shipload of reporters that arrived today? Shit, after we beat the Breen in the Glaroom sector I didn't see one reporter."
Commander Craig bit his lip in complete frustration. Just which admiral had authorized this ship of family and press? He guessed Paris. It was bad enough that Voyager had been intercepted by Romulans...and that Mrs. Kim had somehow guessed Deep Space Nine would be Voyager's final destination. She was outspoken and tended to talk to the wrong people. He frowned at the sight of Mrs. Kim talking to two Ferengi, whom he'd been told were representatives of some Ferengi paper. He hadn't granted any Ferengi reporters press passes, but that meant nothing on this station. He glanced down at his PADD again. His main goal was to make sure Captain Janeway and her senior staff did not talk to any press.
He understood why she was annoyed with Starfleet admiralty, but orders were orders.
"Claude Jean!" a voice said.
"Yes? Oh, hello, Ms Newton." He maintained his professional smile at the sight of the older reporter from the Federation News Network.
"Why is Voyager still here after five days?"
"Repairs, Cassie," he said. "Once repairs are complete, Voyager will return to Earth."
"And what then?"
He hesitated. "I believe Christmas. Though the Voyager crew has their own festival, something called Prixin."
"Come on Claude Jean, that's not an answer."
"Cassie, you know better. Questions will be answered at the press conference when Voyager returns to Earth." Well, so much for a quiet dinner.
"It was worth a try. I was hoping for an exclusive. But, we need something to report. Since you don't want to answer questions about Voyager, perhaps you can answer this one: why are more resources being sent to Cardassia than Bajor?"
Why the hell had that question come up? She continued speaking as she chuckled. "Perhaps I should talk to Colonel Kira?"
"Federation policy in this region is for the betterment of all inhabitants," Craig said, quoting the oft used phrase.
"I'll get a better answer from the Bajorans. And you have no control over them," she smiled knowingly. "And I'll bet Starfleet is keeping you in the dark too?"
They were, but he wouldn't admit it. "Excuse me, but I need to return to my work." He contacted Enterprise as he stood.
"Commander, I would like to ask some more questions. Why is Mrs. Kim..." She ran after him. "--Wait!"
He smiled as he felt the transporter beam. When he rematerialized on the Enterprise, he hit his combadge. "Commander Craig to Commander Riker, I need to contact Starfleet, Admiral Hayes office, immediately."
#
"Admiral Hayes, may I ask what exactly is going on?" Craig asked the image of the man.
"You are assigned to Voyager to..."
"Sir, I know my assignment. But why has no one been told what is going on? I'm being asked questions I can't answer, and, with all due respect, sir, that is not a good way to keep the press quiet. And Deep Space Nine was a poor choice to have Voyager stay. It offers the Bajorans easy access to the press." Was it his imagination, or did Hayes seem pleased with that? "Sir, what is going on?"
"That is confidential..."
"So, you are going to prosecute?"
"I didn't say that either. Just keep the Voyager crew away from the press. If anyone asks, just say that a thorough review is standard after any lengthy mission."
"Yes, sir." Craig closed the link, feeling even more frustrated than just five minutes ago.
#
Mariah Henley walked down the main corridor of the Promenade level, her mind intent on doing some long over-due shopping. Lora Jenkins, Jamie McMinn, and Julia Harper had been raving about a particular dress boutique, and after seeing the clothes they'd purchased, she made up her mind to take a look for herself.
Like the other Maquis, she'd lost all her personal possessions at the beginning of the journey when the Liberty was destroyed, and so she was determined to replenish her wardrobe now that they were back in the AQ. Somehow, not very much of what she'd seen on the journey had appealed to her sense of taste. The rest of the crew seemed to have no problem. The Delaneys, for example, were constantly picking things up at the various stations and planets of the Delta Quadrant, but Henley had privately decided to wait.
And now the time had come, and, she thought in a brief burst of extravagance, money would be no object, though according to Lora, Jamie, and Julia, the boutique's merchandise was not only elegant, but also reasonably priced. She certainly hoped so. Until her backpay from Starfleet came through--if it ever did, she reminded herself wryly--she certainly couldn't afford to splurge *too* much.
Her mind intent on following the directions she'd been given, she almost didn't notice when she passed by the row of public comm booths. But something made her look up just then, and almost involuntarily, she halted. She'd already spoken to her family--those who'd survived the war--a few days earlier, but now she knew there was one more call she needed to make.
She tapped a request for general information into the comm unit's data banks, and after a bit of searching, found the name she was looking for, as well as a current access number. And then she hesitated, and almost immediately cursed herself for being a coward. This wouldn't be the most pleasant conversation she'd ever had in her life--in fact, it would probably be extremely awkward--and yet she had no choice. She punched the call through. There was quite a delay until someone picked up, and during those interminable seconds she almost hoped he wouldn't be in, that she could discharge her obligation by simply leaving a message. And then his image appeared on the screen.
::Mariah?:: Mitch Dalby said incredulously.
"Hello, Mitch," she said quietly. "How are you?"
The look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by the intensity she'd always associated with him. His dark eyes burned, as if he could see deep inside her. A wave of regret passed through her, catching her by surprise. She and Mitch had called it quits years before, and she didn't expect any of the old feelings to surface let alone so quickly. But when he looked at her that way...
::I'm good,:: he said, and smiled. ::Keeping out of trouble, at any rate.::
"Good," she echoed.
::And you?::
"I'm fine." She cast around for something to say. "Voyager made it back. We're docked at Deep Space Nine."
::I heard.::
"From the news reports," she said. Doubtless Voyager's return was pretty big news.
He brushed an errant lock of hair out of his eyes, a mannerism she remembered of old. ::No, from Anne Carey. She called me before she left.::
"Anne...you mean, Joe's wife?" He nodded. "I didn't realize you knew her."
::We've become pretty good friends, actually, working together on the Voyager Family Association newsletter, and other activities.:: Mitch studied her carefully. ::A lot of the families have become close. Shared situations and all that. It's been a comfort, let me tell you.::
She nodded. That made sense. Except..."But why would you--" She caught herself before she could finish the sentence. "Sorry."
He smiled mirthlessly. ::You wanted to know why I bother, now that Ken is gone.::
Mariah flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, that was pretty insensitive of me." He opened his mouth, but she went on, "Actually, Ken is the reason I'm calling."
::I see.:: His expression was unreadable. She couldn't tell if he was disappointed or not. Had he hoped for a different reason on her part?
"Yes, I wanted you to know that Ken really made something of himself, out there in the Delta Quadrant. There were some adjustment problems, of course, in the beginning--" she paused, remembering how Tuvok had selected her and Ken, among others, for some 'remedial training'--"but once that was past, Ken became a valuable member of the crew. And he died bravely, helping to retake Engineering from the Borg. You can be proud of him." Despite her best efforts, her voice shook slightly on the last phrase.
::I am,LL he said quietly, looking at something out of her field of vision. ::I appreciate your taking the time to call and tell me this yourself.::
"I cared about him very much, you know. He was a hell of a good friend, and we'd been through a lot together."
::Yes.:: He met her gaze squarely once more. ::And it means a lot to me that you're the one telling me.::
She shook her head sadly. "Mitch..."
::Don't say it,:: he interrupted. ::I know. You and I, we ended a long time ago. But I want you to know that I still care about you. When I heard that the Liberty had vanished, and so had the Starfleet ship sent to capture it, I was sure you were all dead. And I mourned for all the good friends I'd lost. Then, a few years later, the news came that you were still alive. The first person who came to my mind, after Ken, was you.:: He cleared his throat. ::I'm glad you've got your second shot at life, even though Ken no longer does.::
She didn't know what to say, felt the tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you, Mitch." She took a deep breath. "I also wanted to tell you that I saved Ken's personal effects. I'll drop them off as soon as we get back."
::I appreciate it.:: The silence fell between them once more.
"Well, I have to get going," she said, a bit awkwardly.
He nodded. ::Take care of yourself, Mariah. I'm very glad you called.::
"So am I," she answered, and suddenly realized that it was true.
#
Vedek Capril picked up a single taper and lit it from the flame above the alter. His lips moving soundlessly, he touched the flame to a tall white candle. It sputtered for a moment and then took hold. Without pausing, he proceeded to light the rest of the candles before him. Janeway thought the arrangement vaguely resembled a double trapezoid; she had seen that shape elsewhere, in the pattern of the murals along the walls, and guessed that it had a symbolic meaning. The air was thick with the smell of incense.
The small Bajoran shrine on the station was filled to overflowing. Not only was the senior staff and several of the crew of Voyager present, but also a number of Bajorans--and not just station personnel. Celes, Gerron and Tabor stood with their relatives, close by the sides of other families who had not been so fortunate as to see their loved ones return. In addition, there was a sizable crowd on the Promenade outside, watching on the numerous viewscreens that had been erected for the occasion. The ceremony was being broadcast to Earth as well.
His task completed, the Vedek turned to face the assembled throng. His billowing robes were the color of flame; the carefully draped folds seemed to rise and fall in time with the fires burning at the altar. The tight orange skullcap he wore gave his head an oddly elongated shape, accentuated by the fact that his face was mostly hidden in the shadows. Janeway supressed a shiver.
"All that was, is. All that is, shall ever be." His rich baritone echoed in the confined space. "To the Prophets, the passing of a millennium is but a single instant, and yet a single instant lasts for eternity. All of life is a continuous chain, with those who came before and are no more, and those who are yet to be. For those who have ended their journey, as well as for those who still tread upon an earthly plane, we say: Terse Polder impart Bern. Bengal veteran Ulan steno. Walk with the Prophets."
Janeway bowed her head as the Vedek continued. "We mourn today those who gave their lives so that others might live." Originally intended just for the Bajoran dead, the memorial service had been expanded to include all of those who had lost their lives in the Delta Quadrant, whether Maquis or Starfleet, Equinox or Voyager. "We consign these souls to the Prophets, that they may help them find their way."
He began the death chant, pausing periodically in the liturgy to include the names of the dead. "John Caveat, Henry Fitzgerald, Benara Stadi"--members of the Voyager senior staff who had died en route to the Delta Quadrant. "Bond Loran, Ulan, Michael Blacken, Tri Kendall"--crew from the Liberty who had not survived the Caretaker's wave. So many dead before the journey could properly be said to have begun. "Lynn Sanders, Iota Katchatori, Sergei Bratsilov, Kale Mikov, ullon"--from the Equinox crew.
Among all three ships were a fair number of Bajorans, easily distinguished in the chant by the special honorific added to their names. Ullon--with the Prophets. After a long recitation, the Vedek then began the even longer list of those who had died in the Delta Quadrant itself. So many names, spoken in the order in which they were lost. The Vedek's voice droned on and on; occasionally a name or two would intrude upon her consciousness with greater clarity.
"Kurt Bendara. Peter Durst. Timothy Hogan. Michael Jonas. Lon Suder."
Janeway, listening impassively to the recital, had a bad moment when she wondered if Seska would be among those mentioned--how many of those present knew of her subterfuge, that she was really a Cardassian spy masquerading as a Bajoran? The captain relaxed marginally when Vedek Capril moved on to the casualties of their third year. Seska had not been mentioned at all.
"Mantor Katzav, ullon. Dorrance Lem, ullon. Anhi Jetal. Marie Kaplan."
Janeway glanced around the room. Most of those present had their heads bowed; with some surprise she spotted other Starfleet officers, including some from the Enterprise. She hadn't noticed them earlier, as their gray uniforms blended into the shadows. The Voyager crew by contrast stood out, their old-style uniforms incongruous notes of color in the dimness. Earlier, Janeway had thought long and hard over what to wear to this ceremony. As the majority of those being commemorated had died in the line of duty--Starfleet duty--civilian clothes hadn't seemed appropriate, although Chakotay and B'Elanna and many of the other Maquis had chosen to wear their old Maquis-style garb to honor their fallen comrades. The new Starfleet uniforms were still too alien for her; better to wear the clothing which for eight long years had been the symbol of Starfleet in a far-flung region of space. Commander Craig shot her a look of disapproval when she happened to look in his direction, but Janeway found that for once she did not care about the 'proper' protocol.
"Lindsey Ballard, Amanda Crag, Timothy Lang, Honto Zielan."
Avoiding Craig's baleful glance, Janeway turned away, her gaze falling on the two highest ranked Bajoran officials present: Colonel Kira Nerys and Lieutenant Ro Laren. She had met Kira briefly years before, when Voyager left for the Badlands. Janeway respected the Colonel for her years of service on the station--first as second in command, now as commander--and for what she had accomplished during the recent war, but Ro was an unknown entity. Voyager's captain knew her only by reputation, that Ro had been a Starfleet officer who'd abandoned her commission to fight for the Maquis, and now years later had risen to be Chief of Security on the station.
Janeway studied the two women more closely. They were of a similar height and build, had roughly comparable coloring, but there the similarities ended. It was more than a difference in features, or the fact that Ro, unlike other Bajorans, wore the traditional earring on her left side. Kira's emotions could be seen clearly, the look of compassion etched upon her face as each name was said. Her lips moved in silent sympathy, uttering the Bajoran honorific--for all the dead, not just her fellow countrymen. Ro, on the other hand, was stoically silent, her posture rigid, her expression unchanged. Janeway guessed that Kira was of a more religious nature, a true believer, whereas Ro gave the appearance of a hard-bitten cynic, though she was undoubtedly remembering losses of her own. How could she not?
"Mortimer Harren, Kenneth Dalby, Elizabeth Ashmore, Pablo Baytart, George Redman."
So many memorials, Janeway thought, suddenly wanting to scream, to do anything to blot out the doleful recital. How many times over the years had she stood in this same position on Voyager, commemorating the dead? Too many, and yet she could never, would never, get used to it. She was grateful that this time she was a mere spectator, not the one who was conducting the ceremony, bearing the weight of everyone's emotions. So many funeral services, they each stood out starkly in her mind--whether it was conducted by a cairn of rocks on an alien world, or in front of a shiny duranium tube about to be launched from the torpedo bay. And then each year the communal memorials, during the Prixin celebrations and the Days of the Past.
Yet this ceremony was different. This service at the station shrine was the first of many that would undoubtedly be held now that the ship had returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Meetings and memorials--that was what she could look forward to, over the next several weeks. Endlessly repeated on a score of worlds, encompassing countless traditions and beliefs. But all with an underlying similarity of purpose. Despite the repetition, she knew it would not get any easier to bear.
At her side, Chakotay was lost in his own thoughts, his head unbowed, his eyes fixed unseeingly at the reflection of the flames dancing on the walls. She knew he grieved just as deeply as she if not more so. Not for the first time she envied him for his ability to let go, to allow himself to feel, to not be afraid to express his emotions publicly. Her own 'captain's mask' was firmly in place. Later--when she was alone--later, she would allow herself to grieve.
Out of the corner of her eye, Janeway noticed Commander Troi giving her a sympathetic look. Janeway looked away quickly. In a corner of her mind, however, the thought arose that many of the crew might possibly benefit from talking to a counselor, if not now then in the weeks to come. After the 'circus'--as she was starting to privately refer to their upcoming arrival at Earth and the publicity it would undoubtedly generate--was over. But she herself didn't want to think about the kind of in-depth soul-searching that would require. That was a luxury she didn't have time for now. Her ship was home, but as she was beginning to realize, her task was not over yet.
"Bental vetan ullon sten. Walk with the Prophets." Capril's deepset eyes met hers for an instant. "Our paths have been laid out before us; we follow where they will lead."
CREDITS
Prologue:
----- Kira and Ro meet with Voyager relatives on DS9-- Jamelia
Act One :
-----Kira and Ro greet Voyager's crew on DS9-- Jamelia
-----Harry's mother comes to meet the ship-- CyberMum
-----The view from the top level of DS9's Promenade-- CyberMum
-----Harry calls Earth to deliver a message for Seven-- Julie
-----Janeway talks to Admiral Hayes-- Christina
-----Samantha, Naomi, and Gres Wildman call-- Rocky
-----Darren Pierce calls home-- Rocky
-----Telfer and Marla call home/Angelo talks about Tal's family-- Jamelia
-----Harry and his mother discuss Marla-- CyberMum
-----Noah calls home-- Diane
-----The two Ferengi brothers case Quarks-- Christina
-----Chakotay calls his sister-- Penny
-----Tuvok and Neelix speak of T'Pel and Sarexa-- Rocky
-----Megan and Jenny Delaney call "Robbie the Phud"-- Christina
Act Two:
-----Janeway and Riker talk-- Christina
-----At Quark's and Vic's/Reunion on the docking ring-- Jamelia
-----Holographic Reunion-- Mary
-----Ro asks Tom a favor, B'Elanna talks to Tom about his father-- Jamelia
-----Craig complains about the media-- Christina
-----Mariah Henley calls Ken Dalby's brother-- Rocky
-----A Memorial Service at DS9's Shrine-- Rocky