*19*
Odyssey, June 2
The ready room was supposed to reflect something of its chief occupant, Geordi thought. Captain Picard always had an aquarium as well as some other display of personal significance, such as his first edition of Shakespeare's plays. The room had always seemed dignified and polished, much like Picard.
From his tour of Voyager II, he knew that Captain Janeway had installed special shelving to safely display a collection of china teapots, coffee carafes, cups and saucers. The shelving had a forcefield designed by Lt. Commander Torres that would activate automatically when the ship went to yellow alert or experienced instability outside of normal parameters. The set up managed to combine the beauty and delicacy of fine china with the strength and ingenuity of modern technology, which seemed to him a pretty good reflection of Kathryn Janeway.
What did this ready room say about Captain Geordi LaForge? So far, all it said was that he was a man of little taste and less imagination. He had not added a single personal touch to the standard Starfleet furniture and color scheme. Everything was clean, efficient and completely boring.
Ah.
"The problem," he muttered, "is that I'm an engineer, not a captain." He hadn't hesitated a moment when Admiral Hayes had offered him this mission but he had second-guessed that decision every hour since. He had never served as first officer, or even second officer, of any other ship. Skipping that step on the way to a command was rare but not unprecedented -- for small ships operating within Federation territory. What was he thinking, accepting command of a Columbia-class ship for a mission to the other side of the galaxy?
The communication chime sounded on the desktop monitor, and he leaned forward to accept the call. The image of his father appeared immediately. Edward LaForge was at home, but still in uniform. "Hey," Geordi said. "Shouldn't you be asleep? It's nearly midnight in San Francisco."
"The whales had another baby tonight." Edward smiled broadly. "That's three now. It's been nearly a century, but I think we can safely say now we have saved this species."
"Fantastic. Boy or girl?"
"A male. We're calling him Benny." Edward paused. "How's it coming? Are you settled in?"
"I'm getting there." Geordi couldn't help looking around his office. "Don't tell her I said so, but I could probably use Ariana's help with a couple of things around here."
Edward grinned. "You must be desperate, if you want your sister's help. What's the matter?"
"Nothing, really. Just some decorating issues." He cocked his head. "What's up, Dad? Why the midnight call?"
His father's smile faded. "Nothing important. It's just that...Geordi, did you take this assignment to look for your mother?"
For a moment, Geordi considered deflecting the question. In the end, though, he knew his father wouldn't be deflected. "It's one reason. Maybe a big reason."
"Geordi --"
"Dad, no one has ever been able to explain what happened to the Hera. If there's a chance it was pulled into the Delta Quadrant, just like Voyager --"
"Geordi. Even it that's what happened, the chances are your mother is dead." Edward was obviously distressed. "It's been eleven years."
"Yes, but the Delta Quadrant is more than 70 years away at normal warp speed."
"Captain Janeway brought her ship back in eight years. Do you think your mother less capable than she?"
"No," Geordi said, "but she would be the first to tell you that Voyager had a lot of luck, as well as skill. Maybe Mom just wasn't lucky."
Edward's shoulders sagged. "Perhaps. I just don't want you to get your hopes up, son. Finding your mother alive and well is a long shot, at best."
"I know. But I've got to try. How could we have this chance and not try?"
"Yes. Of course." Edward looked off to one side, his eyes no longer able to meet his son's. "You don't happen to need an old exozoologist, do you? I wish I could go with you."
He hadn't seen his father look so forlorn since the day he had called to tell Geordi that Silva and her ship were officially missing. "Are you serious? I'd have to pull a few strings, but I think we could swing it. We launch in less than a month, Dad. Can you be ready?"
"No captain needs his father looking over his shoulder on his first command." Edward spoke sharply, then softened the impact with a smile. "Have I mentioned how proud I am?"
"A few times." Geordi leaned forward. "Look, why don't you get some sleep? I'll call you before we leave."
"Yes, you will." It was an order, and Geordi recognized it as such, even though he technically outranked his father now. "Oh -- what's the decorating problem?"
"Nothing. I'll figure it out. Good night, Dad."
"Good night, son. Take care."
As the screen darkened, Geordi fell back against his chair. He had accepted this command because it would be a huge career move, and because the chance to explore the Delta Quadrant was too enticing to pass up, but most of all, he had accepted it because he believed in his heart that his mother was somewhere there, trying to get home. No matter how realistic he tried to be, something in him simply refused to be pragmatic.
The truth was, Geordi believed he would find Silva LaForge and her ship in the Delta Quadrant, and no one and nothing would ever shake that belief. Fortunately, Leah understood and was willing to wait while he spent a year or two searching.
Then his gaze fell upon the blank wall above the sofa, and suddenly he remembered. For his last birthday, Data had painted a triptych that captured the bridge of the Enterprise the way Geordi used to perceive it through his visor. Anyone else might mistake it for an abstract piece of conceptual art -- nothing more than seemingly random swathes of color - but Geordi had recognized it immediately. He had no idea how Data had captured the image, but then, he was always amazed by the things Data came up with.
"Yeah," Geordi said slowly. "It works."
*20*
Odyssey, June 10
"And this is the bridge. I'm sure it's as familiar to you as everything else has been."
Harry sighed inwardly at the curt tone in Sam Lavelle's voice as they stepped onto the bridge. Commander Lavelle was the first officer on Odyssey--as such Harry's superior officer--and so far their first meeting hadn't gone well. From the start of the ship's tour and orientation, Lavelle had seemed impatient and even unfriendly. Harry couldn't figure out why, other than the fact that Odyssey's layout was familiar to him, given that the new Columbia class ship was closely modeled after the old Intrepid class ships. He would have expected Lavelle to appreciate not having to go into detail, but the first officer seemed to take Harry's prior knowledge as some sort of affront.
"The Ops station," Lavelle said, moving to the left of the turbolift. The layout of that station was also familiar, though Harry elected not to mention it this time. "Navigation, Helm, Sciences, Tactical, Weapons, Engineering,"--Lavelle waved a hand around the bridge--"...and the Command station. That concludes the tour."
Harry didn't miss the dismissal in the first officer's tone as he touched the Ops controls, tracing the remembered pattern. The Ops panel on Enterprise had a very different configuration, to Harry's mind slightly less efficient than this one. There were also several subtle differences from his old station on Voyager that he would enjoy exploring later. In the meantime, even if Sam Lavelle was less than cordial, Harry couldn't discard the good manners he'd internalized from his mother. "Thank you for the tour, sir."
"Don't forget to check in with Doctor Ogawa next for your physical," Lavelle said as he turned away, clearly in a hurry to leave. "Good day, Lieutenant Commander."
Not that Harry had expected a "you're welcome," but there it was again. Though he was technically a lieutenant commander, that was a rank address very few used in Starfleet, generally shortening the title to "Commander." Yet this was the second time the first officer had addressed him as "Lieutenant Commander." And both times there had been a slight edge of disdain in his tone. Harry was sure of it.
"Commander Lavelle."
Lavelle stopped halfway to the lift and turned. "Yes?"
"Do you have a problem with me?"
Lavelle's eyebrows rose. "Why would you think that, Lieutenant Commander?"
Gee, I don't know. Maybe the pointed rank address, or your frosty attitude, or that slight curl in your lip right now--Harry clamped down that insubordinate line of thought and said, "I get the feeling you don't like me, though we don't know each other."
Lavelle smiled thinly. "That's not precisely true. I certainly know of you. It would be difficult not to."
Harry sighed. That again. He wondered if the notoriety would ever completely fade away. He tried for a light response. "Don't believe everything you read."
"Oh, I don't, believe me."
Harry frowned at the sarcasm in Lavelle's voice. Great. He'd been onboard less than half an hour and he'd already made an enemy of the first officer. It wasn't like he'd asked for the barrage of publicity Voyager's return had engendered. "I've never paid much attention to that stuff anyway. We were all just doing our jobs, the same as any other Starfleet officer would."
"I see," Lavelle said. "But you're not really like any other Starfleet officer, are you? You were made a senior officer even though you were a raw recruit, barely out of the Academy. My understanding is that Captain Janeway was forced to put people in pivotal positions, whether they were ready for the responsibility or not."
"She had some choice," Harry said, feeling more irritated by the minute. She'd also expected the same degree of competence that she would have expected from a more experienced crew. "Maybe I was raw, but she thought I was the best person for the job, and I believe I proved her right, sir."
"Is that why you were an ensign for nearly seven years?"
Harry was momentarily rendered speechless. Though he'd understood the lack of necessity for regular promotions on a ship so distant from home and Starfleet, he had worried that his long standing as an ensign might hurt his career once he returned to the Alpha quadrant. Instead it had been a complete non-issue on Enterprise, as it had been with Captain La Forge. No one in Starfleet had even mentioned it--until now. "If you look at Voyager's records, you'll find that Captain Janeway handed out very few promotions. Given our situation, there was no need--"
"I wasn't asking for an explanation," Lavelle said, cutting off Harry's heated reply. "I'm not disputing that your eventual promotion to lieutenant was probably earned."
Eventual? Probably earned?? Fuming, Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Lavelle continued. "However, your recent promotion to lieutenant commander after less than two years at lieutenant's rank, part of that time interrupted by a substantial leave upon your return to Earth, was premature by comparison. One could certainly wonder if it was attributable at least in part to the elevated status you were granted as part of Voyager's crew."
"Are you saying that's how you attribute it, sir?" Harry asked, not waiting for an answer. "If so, you're wrong. And you are also doing Captain La Forge a disservice if you think he would chose me to head Ops based on a lot of distorted publicity. He chose me because of my ability, period."
Lavelle's expression remained skeptical. "If that's the case, then I assume you will prove that ability, to both of us."
"Don't worry, I will. Now, if you'll excuse me, sir, I have an appointment in sickbay." Harry didn't wait to be dismissed again. He strode to the lift, hoping the first officer wouldn't follow. He could still feel Lavelle's gaze on him as the doors closed behind him.
"Sickbay."
Harry leaned against the railing and took a deep breath as the lift began to move. It was hard to believe the man he'd just met could be the same Sam Lavelle several officers on Enterprise had spoken of as charming and affable, with a wicked sense of humor. He'd expected someone like Tom, or maybe Will Riker, who he'd met during a joint ship mission several months ago. Lavelle couldn't be any less charming or affable if he'd tried. As for a sense of humor...forget it.
The lift stopped and Harry straightened as the door opened. Before he could exit an officer stepped hurriedly into the lift, a redhead with a curvaceous build and lieutenant commander pips on her sleeve. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of him. Harry was equally startled. Though he knew Jenny Delaney was assigned to Odyssey, he hadn't expected to run into her so soon. A moment later he was practically slammed back into the railing by her enthusiastic embrace.
"Harry, it's great to see you again!" Jenny said, releasing him as quickly as she'd grabbed him.
"Uh, you too," Harry said, readjusting his uniform.
Jenny laughed. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't break any ribs. It's just so nice to see a familiar, friendly face."
Harry grinned back. "I'm all in one piece. And the feeling's mutual. Did you just get here?"
"I've been here a couple of hours. I've had the tour, unpacked a little, and I just had my physical. Now I'm on my way to meet Captain La Forge in Astrometrics."
Harry had met Geordi La Forge several days earlier, and he'd been impressed by the captain's graciousness and geniality, as well as his reputation as a brilliant engineer. "I'm looking forward to working for our new captain."
Jenny nodded. "So am I. He's very likable." She made a face. "Though I can't say the same for the first officer."
Harry shook his head. "I guess he was as friendly to you as he was to me."
"He wasn't friendly at all. He said he hoped I would prove to be a good officer, as if he doubted it! I can tell you I certainly wasted my considerable charms on him."
Harry grinned. Sam Lavelle must have a really cold heart not to respond to Jenny's gregarious personality. "Don't worry. It wasn't you."
Jenny sighed. "Good. I was hoping he was surly to everybody, not just to me."
"He's surly to everybody who served on Voyager anyway," Harry said. Fortunately for the rest of the crew, that only meant Jenny and himself.
Jenny looked perplexed. "What?"
"He made a couple of pointed comments. I got the feeling he doesn't hold Voyager or any of its crew in very high regard."
"Then what's he doing on this mission with Voyager II? Does he know that it's being commanded by Captain Janeway, and a couple dozen original crewmembers have signed back on? And that we're going back to the Delta quadrant?"
Harry shrugged. Lavelle obviously did know those facts, but Harry had no idea why the man wanted to go to the Delta quadrant. And he didn't really care.
"Why do some people think we had it so easy on Voyager anyway? I'd like to have switched places with some of them when we were fighting the Kazon, or being invaded by the Hirogen, or facing down the Borg."
Harry agreed with Jenny's irate assessment. "I guess they weren't having much fun here either," he said. Which still wasn't a reason why anyone would think Voyager's crew had been on some sort of pleasure cruise. They might not have been fighting a war, but they'd certainly been in their share of battles. "I'm not going to worry about it though. I'm glad to be here, and I don't plan on letting Commander Lavelle's attitude spoil it for me."
Jenny smiled. "Neither do I."
The lift door was still wide open, and Harry realized Jenny must have hit the hold button before she'd hugged the life out of him. "I should get to sickbay before I'm late for my appointment and our first officer hears about it."
Jenny smirked. "Okay. By the way, you'll like Doctor Ogawa. Her bedside manner is much more pleasant the doctor's--Doctor Zimmerman's, that is. And she assured me she doesn't know how to sing opera, which is a relief."
Harry chuckled as he stepped out of the lift. "Hey," Jenny said, and he turned back to face her. "How about dinner in the mess hall tonight? We can really catch up on what's been going on in each other's lives."
Harry liked that idea. "Sounds great. You can tell me about Command school. And I'd love to hear how Megan is doing."
Jenny's expression softened. "I can tell you her career is going well, and she's deeply in love with a man who adores her. They decided to put off the wedding until the end of the year because of Rick's internship schedule. I'm sorry I'll miss it, but I told Megan she should wait and do it right. Besides I'll be there in spirit."
Harry had heard about the engagement, and he was very glad Megan had found someone who was right for her. "I'm sure she'll send lots of pictures in the datastream. I guess it will be strange for you not having her here."
"It'll be the first time we'll be so far apart." Jenny looked wistful for a moment, then she pasted a bright smile on her face. "But it's time we started living our own lives, don't you think?"
"She's going to be jealous once she hears about your new adventures in the Delta quadrant," Harry teased. "So, eighteen hundred hours in the mess hall?"
Jenny nodded, then winked. "See you then, Commander Kim."
Harry watched the lift close, then strode toward sickbay. He was really happy to have Jenny as a crewmate again. She'd once had a romantic interest in him--something that had intimidated him at the time given his youth and her assertive nature--but that time had long passed, and they'd both gone through a lot of changes. The one-time awkwardness between them had given way to an easy friendship. Sam Lavelle aside, he expected to make more than a few friends on Odyssey, but he valued having an old friend here who had shared so many of his experiences. And he'd missed Jenny's cheerful nature and sunny outlook, more than he'd realized.
"Excuse me, sir."
Harry quickly sidestepped the young ensign who'd burst out of the main sickbay at a near jog. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"
The ensign flushed at Harry's facetious question. "Uh, no. It was fine, but I had to wait awhile. I don't want to be late to the first engineering staff meeting. I hear Lieutenant James is very strict about punctuality."
"I haven't met him yet, Ensign..."
"Hector," the young man supplied quickly.
"Commander Kim," Harry said, introducing himself. "I'm sure Lieutenant James will make allowances for unanticipated delays while we're still in dry-dock."
Ensign Hector looked marginally optimistic. "I hope so, sir."
"Carry on then. And good to meet you, Ensign."
"Yes, sir, you too, sir."
Harry grinned as the ensign fled toward the lift. He walked into sickbay and was almost immediately greeted by a petite dark-haired woman in a lab coat. She gave him a warm, welcoming smile and held out a hand. "I'm Doctor Alyssa Ogawa. And you must be our new Ops officer."
Harry smiled back and shook her hand. Despite her small bones, her grip was strong. "Lieutenant Commander Harry Kim. It's good to meet you."
"Well, Harry Kim, you look very fit and healthy, but we'll go through the motions anyway." Doctor Ogawa motioned toward one of the biobeds. "Have a seat. I understand you came most recently from Enterprise. I served on that ship for a time myself. So did Sam Lavelle. I assume you've met Sam?"
"Yes, ma'am. He just gave me the orientation tour."
If Alyssa Ogawa heard the coolness in Harry's voice she didn't let on. "Enterprise was a great ship, with a wonderful crew. But I must confess, I'm very happy to be serving on Odyssey now. I'm sure there will be a few bumps here and there, but from what I've seen we have an able crew. And I think this trip to the Delta quadrant is going to be a fascinating experience."
Despite at least one bump, Harry couldn't agree more.
"You have a leg up on the rest of us though," Ogawa said as she picked up a medical scanner. "I've read most of the briefings on Voyager's original journey to prepare myself, but I'd love to hear everything you know about the Delta Quadrant."
"Everything?" Harry's lips twitched. "Got a few months?"
Ogawa grinned. "In fact we have, Commander." She moved the scanner over him, and Harry decided he already liked her as she repeated with the satisfaction of someone very content with that prospect, "In fact we have."
*21*
Voyager II, June 10
"Hi, I'm Marie Stevens," Marie said as she looked around the small crew quarters. Her gear was neatly stacked in the corner by the empty bed.
The other woman looked up from her unpacking. "Susan Nicoletti. Welcome to Voyager. Have you been thoroughly poked and prodded?"
Marie smiled as she carefully placed her wooden box on top of the small chest. "Yes. I knew that checking in required a complete physical, DNA scans and listening to a boring recitation of the rules, regulations, but...Please tell me that before our first shoreleave, the CMO doesn't deliver a health lecture as well?" She threw her duffel bag on the bed with a little too much force; clothing spilled out onto the floor. She knelt to gather them up quickly.
Susan chuckled. "This is your first deep space assignment? And yes, the Doc lectures about the possibility of contracting alien diseases before every away mission as well. I remember on the first Voyager the lecture was just over an hour. This time it will be longer; he knows more. What's your field?"
"Biosciences," Marie said. She didn't need to ask Susan the same question, as the yellow trim on her uniform indicated that she was in engineering. "Actually, my specialty is virology." She tossed her wayward clothes back on the bed and started folding.
"Have you met Dr. Zimmerman yet? He's our CMO."
"The hologram? Not yet. One of the other doctors checked me in." Marie had been surprised to learn that a hologram had been assigned as CMO. She'd read several of his publications after learning of her assignment to Voyager, though, and had to admit he definitely had a solid understanding of some rather exotic sounding viruses.
"He's more than a hologram," Sue corrected her. "He's a bloody genius. Just don't tell him I said that. His ego's big enough already."
"I hear he's been nominated for the Phlox Award."
Susan rolled her eyes. "For major contributions to the areas of medical and biological knowledge, awarded every ten years, as he likes to keep telling us." Susan tossed her own empty duffel bag into the closet. "Have you had lunch yet? I was thinking of trying out the replicators in the Mess Hall." She laughed to herself. "Though of course it won't feel like Voyager without Neelix in the kitchen."
"Neelix?" Marie asked, puzzled.
"Ambassador Neelix of Talaxia. He came back with us on the original Voyager. He's a real sweetheart--did so much for us on that trip, acting as our guide, ambassador, cook, morale officer. He and his wife will be on this mission as well, but they're aboard the Pioneer."
"What's the Delta Quadrant like?" Marie asked eagerly.
"Not so different from here," said Sue at once. "Like any starship assignment, there were long periods of routine punctuated by moments of terror. At least the Borg won't be a consideration this time, I hope." She caught the alarmed look in Marie's eyes. "Relax. This time we won't be a lone ship--there's strength in numbers."
Marie nodded and tried to smile.
"Would you like to get something to eat now?" Sue asked. "We could stop by Sickbay or the labs on our way. You'll have a chance to meet the Doctor."
"Zimmerman?" Marie hesitated. "Not right now. I'd rather eat first." She added, "I'm still not sure what I ate this morning--and that was a long time ago."
"Food it is then," agreed Sue. They started walking through the corridors.
Marie stared around her in fascination. It was finally sinking in that she was actually on board Voyager. Maybe not the grand original which had come back from the Delta Quadrant, but its namesake. And they were heading back to the same place. She realized she was looking forward to it, as well as serving with the fabled Captain Janeway. Maybe Sue would be willing to tell her a few stories over lunch.
*22*
Voyager II, June 11
B'Elanna's first impression as they entered their new quarters was of the size. It was big, definitely larger than their quarters on the original Voyager.
"Looks like we'll have plenty of room," Tom said, mirroring her thoughts. He set his wriggling daughter down, keeping one of her hands in his. "And I see it's the same old Starfleet dynamic color scheme--beige on white."
"We can add our own touches," B'Elanna said, as she set the duffel containing their overnight things on the floor. It would probably take several days to get all their stuff moved in. She shook her head at the thought. They definitely had too much stuff.
"We live here?" Miral asked as she looked around curiously.
"Yep, this is our new home, pumpkin," Tom answered. "And that must be our bedroom," he whispered to B'Elanna, pointing to the left of the main living area. A large bed was just visible through the open doorway. Miral was two and a half now, and the days of her crib being in the same room as her parents' bed had definitely passed.
Tom walked past the dining table toward the couch. It fronted a wide window with a view of space, which was mostly of the UP outer docking ring at the moment. "Look, Miral." He pointed beyond the shelf-lined interior wall that partially separated the dining area from the sitting area. "I think this is your bed."
As B'Elanna joined them she saw that the small alcove off the sitting area was now furnished with a single bed and chest of drawers. A smaller window framed the stars.
"I see the stars!"
Tom grinned. "There's nothing like seeing the stars from your bed. And you can wish on them every night."
"Yay!" Miral shouted, familiar now with many of Earth's children's stories and fairy tales. With that she pulled away from her father, and a moment later she was bouncing happily on the bed.
B'Elanna smiled and turned to give the dining area a closer inspection. The built-in cupboard contained plenty of space, but more importantly there was a full service replicator right next to it.
"I can put my toaster right here." Tom came up behind her and patted the countertop.
B'Elanna looked at him. "You think you could ever live without that toaster, Tom?"
Tom looked horrified. "And give up toast with peanut butter for breakfast? No way!"
B'Elanna grinned. She enjoyed baiting him, since he always rose to the occasion. "I think I forgot to pack it."
"I packed it, and I know exactly where it is."
"Damn." B'Elanna with mock frustration, and Tom smiled triumphantly. She had to admit toast from the toaster had a crisp texture and taste that one couldn't get from a replicator. She understood why Captain Janeway had stocked her quarters with a coffee grinder and several kilos of coffee beans before she'd even unpacked her clothes. That was the rumor anyway.
"Miral."
Miral had abandoned her bed, and was running through the living area. Though she stopped when her father said her name, there was a flash of rebellion in her eyes, and a mutinous set to her lips. "Don't run," she said before her father could speak, no doubt remembering her mother's admonition a short time earlier in engineering.
Tom looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. "You can't run on most of the ship, but these quarters are your home. Run all you want."
Miral's face lit up and a moment later she was running again, zigzagging across the room, skirting around the furniture.
"Tom..."
"It is her home now. And we'll childproof where we need to."
They'd had plenty of experience with that already. Miral ran around the coffee table, missing the sharp edge by mere millimeters, and B'Elanna frowned. "We can't childproof everything."
"Nope," Tom agreed. "But she's a kid. She's going to get a few bruises."
She already had. Though B'Elanna rarely considered her own safety, her daughter was a different matter. Still, she knew bumps and scrapes came with the territory of childhood, and Miral barely seemed to notice them. She watched her daughter duck under the window shelf, this time nearly banging her skull. "I guess it's good that she has your hard head."
"My hard head?" Tom asked incredulously.
"I don't have a hard head." B'Elanna ignored Tom's snort and moved toward the bedroom. She noted the large closet and built-in chest of drawers, and glanced into the bathroom, which had all the necessary amenities. They would be more than comfortable here, and she knew that was by design. For a former Maquis and a former convict, they'd become highly valued officers in Starfleet. Sometimes that still astonished her.
Tom walked into the bedroom with Miral right behind him. He dropped the duffel on the bed as Miral sped around the room, inspecting every corner. Then she ran past her mother into the bathroom, and immediately turned on the water in the sink.
"Miral, don't play with the water."
"Washing my hands," Miral said enthusiastically, as if it wasn't something her parents usually had to force her to do.
B'Elanna rolled her eyes, but let her daughter proceed. She looked back at Tom, who had taken something out of the duffel and was placing it on one of the nightstands. "Tom, is that..."
"I figured we could start putting a few personal items in place." He grinned at her. "Unfortunately the bat'leth wouldn't fit in the duffel."
B'Elanna stared at the holographic image displayed in the ornate frame. She still had a hard time believing her father had hung onto it for so long.
"It really was nice of your dad to bring this to the party."
B'Elanna had been glad to see her father at the goodbye party Tom's parents had hosted, though she hadn't expected him to come. Or maybe she hadn't let herself expect him. She still wasn't used to counting on him, even though he'd made every effort to involve himself in her life during the past eighteen months. But it was the gift her father had given her that had most surprised--and moved--her.
"How's that?" Tom asked, adjusting the frame on the nightstand.
B'Elanna stared at the holo of her mother. It had been taken when Miral had been several years younger than B'Elanna was now. Miral looked youthful and vibrant. The strong, sharp lines of her face gave her a fierce beauty, while her dark eyes glittered with a mixture of humor and satisfaction. It was a look B'Elanna had rarely seen in her mother's eyes after her parents' marriage had ended. Her father told her he'd kept this picture because even though the marriage hadn't worked, he'd never forgotten Miral, and he'd never stopped caring about her. But now he thought B'Elanna should have her mother with her, and he'd insisted she take the picture he'd kept for so long.
B'Elanna wondered if her father had somehow found out that she'd kept no pictures of her mother after their acrimonious parting. Certainly he couldn't know that her impulsive act of rejection had become a source of immense regret over the years. Or maybe he could, since he'd experienced numerous regrets of his own. Though her uncle had also given her several pictures of her mother when she'd visited Qo'noS, this picture had already become very special to her. It was a tie not only to her mother, but her father as well--
"B'Elanna?"
Tom was watching her and she smiled. "It's perfect."
"Good. We'll make room for the rest later."
Miral brushed past her mother's legs, her hands still wet from the sink. "That's my gramma." She gave her grandmother Miral that special designation because they shared the same name. "Where's Gramma 'Licia? And Pop Pop Owen, and Papa John, and Uncle Icheb, and Aunt--"
"We still have to unpack those pictures," B'Elanna said, before Miral could name her entire extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins on both sides. Over the past year and a half they'd amassed a collection of holos of Tom's parents, his sisters and their families, her uncle and cousins on Qo'noS, as well as her uncle and cousins on her father's side. And Tom had taken a holo of her father at the party. Along with the holos of Miral from babyhood through toddlerhood, and the old holos of their family from the original
Voyager, she wasn't sure where they were going to put them all. And while she'd sometimes felt the need to impose some private time, it gave her a warm feeling knowing that there were so many people who'd become family to her.
Tom reached down and scooped his daughter into his arms. "Tell you what, sweetheart. Tomorrow after mommy and I finish working, we'll move our box of pictures up here first, and fill every shelf and tabletop with them. But right now, how about we go to the mess hall and see what everyone's eating for dinner."
Miral wriggled against Tom's embrace, her arms reaching toward the duffel. "Toby come!"
Tom pulled the stuffed targ out of the duffel. Though Miral had dozens of stuffed animals--most now headed to storage--B'Elanna's old, much-mended friend Toby had become her favorite companion.
"Why don't we let Toby stay here and get used to his new home?" B'Elanna suggested.
"Besides, Toby only likes replicated food," Tom reminded her. "We'll put him by the replicator so he can fix something, as long as he cleans up."
"He does!" Miral said gleefully, handing Toby over to her mother.
He always did, because Toby invariably "ate" while Miral was away or asleep, and left not a crumb behind. Tom grinned at B'Elanna, and she settled Toby carefully on the counter as they left.
Five minutes later they walked into the mess hall. It was an almost exact replica of the original Voyager mess hall, and despite the fact that nearly half the crew hadn't yet checked in, most of the tables were occupied. Gerry Culhane, Trish Gallagher and Delia O'Brien waved from one table and Tom returned their gesture. At another table Vorik caught B'Elanna's eye and gave her a polite Vulcan nod before returning to his conversation with Tuvok.
"Neelix!"
Tom's greeting pulled B'Elanna's attention to the kitchen. Neelix stood behind the counter, framed by several steaming pots on the stove behind him as he chatted with Sarexa. Sarexa greeted them warmly as they approached.
"Good evening, Tom, B'Elanna, and Miral."
"Welcome, Paris-Torres family," Neelix added, a broad smile on his face.
"Neelix!" After repeating her father's enthusiastic greeting, Miral held out her arms and Neelix leaned forward so she could hug him around the neck. Then she demanded to hug Sarexa too.
"Neelix, what are you doing here?" B'Elanna asked. The last she'd heard he'd been assigned to Pioneer with the other ambassadors. And in accordance to standard starship operations, there was no full time cook assigned to Voyager II. That position on the original Voyager--created for and by Neelix--had been a result of the very irregular circumstances.
"You've been transferred to Voyager?" Tom guessed before Neelix could speak.
Neelix shook his head. "No. Sarexa and I will be traveling on Pioneer. But Captain Janeway gave us the official tour this afternoon. She suggested I might want to cook dinner tonight for old time's sake."
"I seem to recall you made the suggestion," Sarexa said dryly.
Neelix grinned. "But the captain did immediately accept my offer, sweetling."
Sarexa smiled back. "That's true. She has a soft spot for you."
"The captain also assigned us guest quarters for the night, so we can explore more of the ship ourselves later," Neelix told B'Elanna and Tom.
"It's a beautiful ship, isn't it, Miral," Tom said, glancing at his daughter, who nodded her head furiously in agreement. "And we're thrilled you're here, Neelix. What's on the menu tonight?"
"Kavulian stew, Rynax flatbread, and leola root casserole," Neelix replied proudly.
"Umm! I'm looking forward to it. We've really missed your cooking."
B'Elanna smiled at Tom's enthusiastic response, though she silently echoed his sentiment. She couldn't say she loved Neelix's cooking, but she had grown used it during their eight years in the Delta Quadrant. And she'd actually missed it. Or maybe it was less the cooking than the cook. Whatever Neelix served, he always served it with genuine warmth, a cheerful outlook, and surprisingly astute observations, all of which had helped her deal with more than one crisis. She regretted that he was only here for a visit.
"We've missed you Neelix," she said. She smiled at Sarexa. "I wish we could have seen both of you more often on Earth."
"As do I," Neelix said. "But Pioneer and Voyager will be traveling the same route on this journey, and Captain Janeway has graciously given us an open invitation to visit Voyager as often as we like."
"That's great, Neelix," Tom said. "Maybe you can even be our guest chef on occasion."
"With pleasure, if Captain Janeway is agreeable," Neelix said, beaming. "I enjoy the challenges of my ambassadorial position, but I must admit cooking is my first love. I find it gives me a wonderful sense of relaxation--"
"Neelix."
"Oh." Neelix heeded Sarexa's warning tone and rushed over to the stove to remove a pot just before it boiled over. He sniffed at the contents and nodded. "I've also taken it upon myself to leave a copy of my bestseller 'Delta Quadrant Recipes by Neelix' here for the crew's perusal," he said as he placed the pot on a serving pad. "Of course many of my recipes call for very precise measurements and exact cooking times. In the hands of a novice the dishes can turn out a little...peculiar."
"Maybe Miral and I will try out one or two of your recipes," Tom said, giving B'Elanna a mischievous grin as Miral clapped her hands in anticipation.
B'Elanna gave him a look that let him know that was not going to happen in this lifetime. Besides, she didn't really want to imagine Neelix's dishes any more peculiar than they already were. "You'd better stick to pizza, flyboy."
"Not to worry," Neelix interjected. "I downloaded all the recipes into the replicator database, so you can treat yourself to one of my gourmet creations any time." He smiled at Miral. "Would you like to help me fix your plates?"
"Yes!" Miral responded eagerly as Neelix lifted her over the counter and gave her a small pair of kitchen mitts to wear (ones that looked a lot like the mitts Naomi had once worn as Neelix's "special helper"). He held Miral's small hand in his own and guided the ladle from the steaming pots to the plates, careful to keep the hot food from spilling.
As Neelix and Miral heaped food onto the three plates, B'Elanna glanced around the room. It was filled with faces--some familiar, some new, some animated, some solemn--along with the sound of dishes clinking together, the murmur of lively conversation, and occasional bursts of laughter. Permeating it all there was a sense not only of unified purpose, but also of cheerful camaraderie.
"It just seems so right."
Tom glanced at her. "What?"
B'Elanna had been talking to herself, but she'd obviously spoken loud enough for Tom to hear. "This. The mess hall, Neelix, everyone here together eating dinner...all of it. It feels...right."
She didn't know exactly how to put it in better words, but Tom smiled as if he understood completely. "You mean it feels like home?"
That was it. She'd called a lot of places home, and some of them, especially recently, had been good places. But here...in a mess hall on a starship named Voyager--she realized of all the places she'd been, it still felt the most like home.
As she took Miral so Neelix could finish serving their food, she answered Tom's question in a soft, gratified voice. "Exactly."
*23*
Voyager II, June 11
The CMO of Voyager II snapped the microfiber cloth to its fullest capacity and began wiping down the exposed surfaces of Sickbay with the utmost care. The maintenance crew had finished, leaving the shiny new area as clean as specs required, but Dr. Mark Lewis Zimmerman wanted more. He wanted everything to gleam.
After all, he thought, he was personally responsible for many of the innovations surrounding him. The fruits of a year's worth of labor were fully realized. With a flourish, he bent over the console controlling the enhanced holographic diagnostic modeling array and rubbed what had looked to be a partial fingerprint marring the transparent protective topcoat.
At the sound of the doors opening behind him, he turned. A young ensign he didn't recognize walked in. She was blonde and quite pretty, he thought as he smiled at her. "Good morning," he said. "I'm Dr. Zimmerman. How can I help you?"
"Oh." Her eyes grew large, and she looked around Sickbay. "I, uh, I heard the new doctor had come on board."
"So Commander Tuvok tells me, but he hasn't arrived in Sickbay yet." He smiled reassuringly. "I'm the CMO. May I help you?"
"Uh, no. No thank you. Sir." She began edging backwards. "I'll just come back later -- "
"Ensign," he said. The situation was beginning to have a feeling of déjà vu; this had happened many times in the past year. He made a point of keeping his tone friendly and family-doctor-y. "What's your name?"
"Mindy, um, Melinda -- really, I'm sorry to bother you." Her tiny backwards slides became full steps. "Thank you, sir, thank-"
As the doors whooshed open behind her, she turned and promptly bounced off the chest of a man in a sciences tunic trying to come in. "Oh," she squeaked. "Sorry, sir. I didn't - I was -- I --" Abandoning any attempt at explanation, she simply fled.
Mark was so intent on watching her leave that he didn't realize he was still holding the dust cloth. The young man pulled him back to the moment when he said, "She was sure in a hurry."
"Yes." Ensign Mindy was another in a veritable parade of biological persons with misgivings, if not prejudices, about medical holograms. At least she hadn't been outright rude. Earlier in the day, a rather burly crewman from Security had refused to let Mark conduct his mandatory physical exam. He said he would wait for the 'real' doctor. Mark planned to wait three days, order him to Sickbay, and show him how real a DRE from a hologram could be.
Then he realized the younger man was waiting for him to say something else, and belatedly recognized him. His obviously mixed ethnic ancestry gave him an unusual appearance, with brown hair, dark skin and bright green eyes. Even if Mark hadn't been reviewing the personnel dossier of his new associate only an hour earlier, he would have guessed that this was the 'new' doctor. "Hello," he said, switching the dust cloth to his left hand as he extended his right hand for a handshake. "You must be Dr. Brown."
"That's right, Commander," Dr. Brown said, but he was clearly distracted by the quality of the equipment surrounding him. His head swiveled from side to side, trying to take it all in. "Wow. Look at this. It's better than anything we had at Benecia."
"It's the cutting edge for starships," Mark said, trying to subdue the pride in his voice. Dr. Brown had just spent two years as a resident at the medical facility on Benecia, widely regarded as one of the finest medical facilities in all the Federation. If the young man was trying to curry favor with his new boss, he was off to a good start.
"It's the cutting edge for any place." He came over and looked at the panel Mark had been working on. "Is that a diagnostic array? It's the most complex I've ever seen."
"Yes, it's complex but it's simple to use." Smiling, Mark reached down and touched a control. Immediately, a life size hologram of a human skeleton materialized a half a meter in front of them. "With just a few simple commands, we project any aspect of the patient's physiology, or the physiology of any of the species in our data bases, right down to the DNA levels."
"Amazing." The young man's green eyes were shining with enthusiasm. "And that trauma unit-"
"Yes. One of the byproducts of the Dominion War, I'm afraid. We learned a great deal about the most efficient treatment of multiple casualties." It wasn't one of the enhancements he had designed. "Here, let me show you this innovation."
He led the young man over to one of the biobeds, activated the display panel above the bed and waited for a reaction.
It took two seconds, but then Dr. Brown blinked twice. "The data readouts -they've been redesigned."
"Exactly." Mark beamed at him. "Much easier to read, don't you think? And better organized."
Brown shook his head as he continued to walk about and study every panel and display. "You design guys did a great job, Commander. I can't believe someone actually passed on a chance to work here."
Mark stiffened. "Apparently, at least two of them had a problem reporting to a holographic life form."
"Well, you have to admit, it is kind of weird. Sentient or not, there's something disquieting about taking orders from something that was programmed, not born." Brown turned to him, his face pleasant enough. "Have you met him yet? Is he like a real person?"
For the first time in a long time, Mark found himself at a loss for words. Obviously, young Dr. Brown had no idea to whom he was speaking. He stared at the young man who was so oblivious to his blunder. "Yes," he finally said. "I've always found him quite 'real.'"
The doors opened again, and Tom Paris came in, holding Miral's hand. The little girl's mouth was set in an exaggerated frown, a sure sing that she was unhappy. As soon as she saw Mark, though, she smiled. "Doc!" she shouted. Breaking away from Tom, she ran to Mark and lifted her arms to be picked up. As he did, he noticed that Dr. Brown was looking at him intently.
"We're getting settled in to our quarters," Tom said quietly, "and so far, we don't like them very much. I told her that we'd find some friends."
Mark swung Miral up, and she laughed. "Hello, young lady."
"Do you live here, too?" she asked him.
"I certainly do. We're neighbors now." He jiggled her a little bit. "Look how grown up you are. You're almost too big for this."
"I'm ten," she said.
"Try again, honey," Tom said, holding up two fingers. "How old are you?"
She sighed dramatically, with the air of one who puts up with too much aggravation. "I'm two. And a half." Then she spotted Dr. Brown and said, "Who are you?"
"This is our newest doctor," Mark said. "His name is Dr. Brown. Doctor, this young lady is Miral Paris, who will be part of our crew."
"Tom Paris," Tom said as he offered his hand. "Ship's pilot."
"Zeke Brown," the young man said. His skin had darkened to a deep brown, but otherwise he seemed unperturbed by his gaffe. "Pleasure to meet you, Commander."
"So how do you like our new Sickbay?" Tom asked. "Doc here is pretty proud of it."
"It's wonderful," Zeke said. "In fact, I've already performed my first procedure in it."
Mark looked at him sharply. "What's that?"
"Open mouth, insert foot," Zeke said, facing him directly, looking chagrined. "My apologies, sir."
He sounded sincere, Mark thought, but he'd been dealing with people who sounded sincere for more than a year now. "We'll talk about it later."
Tom looked from one man to the other, and then held out his arms. "Come on, honey. Doc has work to do, and so does Dr. Brown. Let's see if we can find Delia. Or maybe Lt. Vorik. I'm sure he'd love to let you help him."
After a moment's consideration, Miral shifted her weight, and Mark handed her over to Tom. "See you later," Tom said, and Miral called, "Bye!"
"Sir," Zeke began as soon as they were alone, but Mark raised a hand and cut him off.
"Lieutenant." Mark tried to keep his voice level, but the syllables came out clipped. "You are correct that two physicians requested reassignment when they learned that this ship's CMO is a hologram. If you have any such qualms, this is the time to raise them. Once we are underway, it will be too late. There are no transfers from the Delta Quadrant."
Yes, sir." Zeke swallowed. "It's not a problem for me. I mean, I've never been around holograms much so it's all kind of new, but...I really want this assignment."
"Why?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why do you want this assignment, Doctor?" Mark looked at him pointedly. "Do you think you'll have a chance to be in charge most of the time since I'm only a hologram? Do you think you'll get more opportunities for away missions than a junior physician usually gets?"
Zeke blinked. "You know, I hadn't thought about being in charge. I guess I figured you'd always be here. I have to admit, I did think about the away missions."
"Well, think again. With my mobile emitter, I can go anywhere. In fact, I can go to places that are incompatible with biological life." Mark folded his arms across his chest. "If you stay, you're going to be the junior physician on the medical staff. That means you'll be taking the off-shifts, you'll be doing a lot of the paperwork and you'll be taking orders from me. And you won't be treating people just because they are uncomfortable with a hologram."
The younger man didn't respond at first. After a pause of at least four seconds, he finally said, "I want this assignment because we're going to the Delta Quadrant, and it's the first planned mission there. And I want it because we're going to be interacting with the Vidiians, who seem to be decades ahead of even the Adigeons in genetic therapies. I don't know much about holograms, Doctor. Never been around them much. But Starfleet says you're in charge, so it doesn't matter to me if you're a hologram or an android or whatever."
Unfolding his arms slowly -- it was dramatic, and Mark never underestimated the power of drama -- the EMH kept his gaze fixed on Zeke. "All right," he said slowly, drawing out each vowel. "We'll give it a try. But understand this: if you don't work out, we'll find a place for you in Commander Torres' waste extraction team."
For a moment, just a quick, fleeting moment but more than enough to assuage Mark's concerns, Zeke looked scared. Then he smiled. "It's a deal, Doctor. It's a deal."
*24*
First Officer's Quarters, Voyager II June 12
As he walked in he saw her, silhouetted against the stars as she gazed out of the view ports. She moved her head only slightly to acknowledge his entry. From this, Tuvok knew his wife had recognized his step--and only his step--on the carpeting. If she had heard the tread of a stranger, she would have turned to greet the visitor. After many decades of married life, despite long periods of separation, he expected no less of her.
T'Pel knew him extremely well.
Within seconds he had taken the six long strides required to reach her position. He stood beside her, his fist clasped behind his back, and looked upon the same tracery of arches and stations which made up Utopia Planitia that T'Pel was studying so intently. They watched as three small craft maneuvered their loads of building materials close to a covey of spacesuit-clad construction workers, who quickly affixed them to the skeleton of the ship which was being assembled two bays away from where the new Voyager awaited the rest of its crew.
Finally, T'Pel broke their silence. "How difficult is it to work under weightless conditions? I would think if someone moved too quickly, inertia would carry them far from their former position before they could stop themselves."
"That is known to happen, although it is rare amongst workers as skilled as these. Each one has a tether line to hold him or her in place. Maneuvering thrusters in their suits can return them to where they should be if the tethers become undone in some way. Making gradual alterations in position helps the workers guard against the unexpected and extreme movements caused by inertia."
T'Pel nodded thoughtfully. "There is a beauty to their motions. The rhythms are much like that of Terran ballet dancers. I confess I did not expect to have such an aesthetically pleasing pageant to watch where starships are being constructed. I associate a shipyard with technical pursuits rather than the arts."
"The creation of a starship requires builders who are artists as well as crafters," Tuvok agreed.
T'Pel turned to face her husband. She wore an appropriately neutral expression on her face, but the sparks of starlight reflecting in her coffee-colored eyes danced in their own aesthetically pleasing way. They often did this, he noted, when she looked at him. He suspected his own sparkled in a similar way whenever he beheld her.
T'Pel brushed her fingertips against her husband's shoulder in a signal he could easily interpret. As one, they walked to the couch and sat down close to one another. "Do these quarters meet with your approval, T'Pel?"
"Very much. I have finished my unpacking, but I left yours for you to complete, as is your preference. If I have used compartments you are accustomed to take for your own belongings, you will need to choose new ones."
"That is the penalty I must pay for choosing duty over housekeeping chores," Tuvok responded blandly. "However, since this ship has more luxurious amenities than the old Voyager, I would not be able to follow my accustomed routines in any case. I will suffer the inconvenience." He was also quite certain T'Pel had left him a fair share of the most easily accessed storage compartments. She always did, wherever they went.
"I was responsible for duties other than my housekeeping tasks this afternoon, as well. Chakotay called the first meeting of the civilian technical team, after I had reported to Doctor Zimmerman for my baseline physical at noon. While I was in sickbay, Commanders Torres and Paris arrived with their daughter to have their own physicals completed. It was a fortuitous meeting; I was able to reintroduce myself to Miral. The doctor was extremely pleased to be able to show both of us our 'Red Alert' stations as well."
"I can imagine," Tuvok remarked, with as much stoicism as he could muster. Images of the doctor's typical effusiveness when presented with such opportunities to show off paraded vividly before his mind's eye. "What was Miral's response?" Tuvok could have added "and that of her parents" to this question but did not. He could easily envision the chief engineer's snarling lips and chief pilot's rolling eyes if the former EMH had been as annoying as he were capable of being.
"Apparently her parents had already prepared Miral for staying with 'the Vulcan lady' during red alert conditions. She was fascinated by the way my robes swung as we walked to our station. She tried to 'teach' her clothing to move along the floor in the same manner as mine. I explained she would require longer clothing which touched the floor to accomplish this. Miral then asked her parents for 'long, booti-full robes' to wear during red alerts."
"And her parents' response to this singular request?"
"Commander Torres told Miral she doubted she would have time to change into robes once the red alert signal sounded, but Mr. Paris promised he would have some replicated and stored in sickbay so Miral could change into them and learn to 'glide across the floor as beautifully as Mrs. Tuvok does' as soon as she arrived at her red alert station."
Tuvok arched a disapproving brow. "A typically frivolous response from Mr. Paris, although an accurate description of the way 'Mrs. Tuvok' walks."
"I thank you for your compliment about my way of walking, as I did Commander Paris, but I disagree that his response to his daughter was at all frivolous. On the contrary, when the red alert signal sounds, Miral will promptly travel to her station to enjoy another opportunity to wear her special robes, reducing the chance she will become upset. I must remind you, Tuvok, that even our own children at Miral's age had a high probability of becoming disturbed in such circumstances. Instead, Mr. Paris has transformed what could be an upsetting situation into something to which Miral can anticipate with a degree of pleasure. This appears to be another example Mr. Paris' ability to divert others from the unpleasant realities of life."
Tuvok considered this for a moment before replying, "I must admit that it is. Mr. Paris often used his sense of humor to relieve the tension of the crew during difficult situations in the Delta Quadrant on the original Voyager. I did not consider he may now utilize it in an equally constructive manner when interacting with his daughter."
Tuvok lapsed into silence while his wife continued, "Miral is certainly a very lively child, but she also appears perceptive and is obviously very intelligent. I look forward to contributing to her formal education...Tuvok? Is something wrong? You seem to be somewhat distracted yourself."
He read concern in her eyes. "I beg pardon for my apparent inattention; I was listening to you. Captain Janeway told me only this afternoon how pleased she is that you have volunteered to teach Miral, despite your other duties, since this ship will not have the educational staff Pioneer will possess. Is Chakotay at all concerned about the time this may take away from your duties as part of his staff?"
"En route to the Delta Quadrant, my skills as a sociologist should not be overly taxed. We both anticipate I will be capable of handling both assignments. Do you believe otherwise?"
"Not at all," Tuvok quickly replied, noting that his wife was not at all pleased he might be suggesting he was. "You cannot be certain your expertise as a sociologist will not be required more than you expect, however. It sometimes seems the unexpected occurs more frequently than the expected, particularly on ships called Voyager."
"This assignment in the Delta Quadrant will not be the same as last, Tuvok, if only because it is your planned destination this time," T'Pel pointed out gently.
"Planned or unplanned, any trip through the Delta Quadrant is fraught with danger."
T'Pel regarded him gravely. "We have discussed this subject before, in great detail. I believed we were in complete accord that I should accompany you on this mission. Have you had second thoughts?"
"None whatsoever. However...I do wonder if there is another reason you have volunteered time caring for Miral. This will be the longest separation from our children you will have ever experienced. It may be difficult for you to be away from them for as long as this mission will last. Perhaps you think caring for Miral will help you fill the time you would normally expend caring for our own children. Miral, however, is the true child of her parents and very different from our offspring."
"She is, indeed," T'Pel concurred. "Miral is much younger than any of our children, for one thing. Smaller, as well--much smaller, even, than our granddaughter T'Meni."
Tuvok stared at his wife. Her brows were arched high; her eyes were bright. If she were human, he was certain, T'Pel would be laughing at him.
Tuvok stood up and walked towards the viewport. Crossing his arms, he looked out and over the half-built starship, so lost in thought he did not see the workers scrambling over its shell. Only when he felt the tracing of fingers along his arm did he become fully cognizant of the view outside and of his wife, now standing next to him. "I apologize, Tuvok. That comment was unnecessary. I may have spent too much time among humans lately for my own good."
He turned towards her. "Your comment was of no consequence. My concern is how you will respond to your absence from our family, particularly if anything causes us to remain in the Delta Quadrant for a longer period of time than we anticipate. Many milestones of our children's and grandchild's lives will undoubtedly occur without your participation. I know how difficult that can be."
She stroked his hand. The bond they shared resonated, as always when they touched each other. "Yes, I will not share many events in their lives for the next year or so, but for any parent that time comes inevitably, sooner or later. Our children are all now adults--yes, even our daughter Asil, although she is still a student. She has graduated to upper level studies at the Institute of Science and is well on her way to the independence our sons have already achieved. Sek has arranged for her to spend all of her holidays with his family, if she wishes. Varith and Elieth have also extended invitations for her to spend time with them and with those to whom they are betrothed. She has already informed them in no uncertain terms that she is grateful for their offers but plans to spend much of her free time pursuing her own interests. You know this, yet you are still troubled?"
"Varith may become espoused while we are gone..." At her skeptical expression, he added. "I wish only to give you the chance to change your mind and remain behind with them if you wish. I would not want you to regret your choice to come on this mission with me and miss key events in the lives of our children as a result."
"I am sure there will be times I will wish we could all be together, my husband, but I will face those times when they come. I believe our children fully understand why I have chosen to come with you this time, even better than you do. Do you wish me to make it clear to you now as well?"
"Perhaps it would be best if you did," he replied softly.
"Tuvok, before you returned to Starfleet, there were times, I could tell, when you experienced a sense of incompleteness. You had accepted a task as your own but had not finished it to the best of your ability. When you reassumed your commission and returned to duty, those periods of dissatisfaction quite simply vanished. I was pleased, although I wished I could share more fully in this phase of your life. Circumstances never permitted it. When I might have had the opportunity, such as during the years on Earth when you were an instructor at Starfleet Academy, I devoted most of my time to raising our family."
T'Pel raised her hand to forestall the interjection that he was about to make. "Please believe me, Tuvok, when I say I have no regrets about taking this path. Caring for our children always satisfied me completely, just as my developing interest in and choice of career as a sociologist did. However, these commitments did prevent me from sharing any shipboard postings with you. One or the other of my responsibilities always interfered."
"It is so different now?"
"Yes, it is. Our children may benefit more from this time which they will share in easy proximity to each other but far apart from us than they would if they remained near to us. Their relationships with each other as siblings, which became less central to their lives when they reached adulthood, will assume greater importance to them. We will not be near at hand when the need or desire to be with their family members arises."
"We will be able to have some contact with them via the MIDAS Array network."
"Of course. They will not wonder about our fate, as we did when you were lost in the Delta Quadrant." T'Pel hesitated for a moment. "As for me, during the meeting of the civilian scientist group today, I realized I had become part of a unique endeavor. I have never before had the opportunity to help shape an expedition of this type. Never have I achieved the level of professional satisfaction before as I did today. Perhaps it is the 'greenhouse effect' created by the closed society on a starship--I suspect I will need to collect more data on this--but already I see how the disparate members of the original Voyager's crew could develop such strong bonds with one another, from the earliest days of their journey home. If I must admit to any regret at all, it is that this is a new experience for me. Academia will never be the same. To this I can add the satisfaction of sharing this experience with my husband, to a degree I never could previously. It is quite compelling...Do you understand what I am trying to convey, Tuvok?"
"I believe I can," Tuvok said. He interlaced her fingers with his and felt his mind fall into step with hers, their bond renewed as they shared the sense of touch. "This 'greenhouse effect' is an accurate way of describing the stimulation one finds when working with one's friends and overcoming great odds to reach a goal that, at first, seems highly unlikely to be achieved."
"Good. I am pleased you understand. I have run out of words to explain it to you any further."
"You have no need for any more words. Standing with you here--in our quarters--is enough. Sharing this journey with you will be enough. However, we cannot deny the many challenges we may need to overcome, the risks which we must face."
"Risks and challenges always exist, Tuvok, even in settings which seem perfectly safe and ordinary. It is the sharing that matters."
The light reflecting off the half-built starship highlighted the sides of their faces nearest to the viewport. Tuvok did not know any words which could sufficiently express what he would say to her if he could. Of course, he did not really need to say anything at all to her. Through their joined hands, their bond became manifest, merging them until they were of one mind and shared that which was the hallmark of Vulcan marriage. Tuvok and T'Pel stood together, communicating all any couple could ever wish to relay to each another without uttering a single word.
*25*
Odyssey, June 12
Geordi couldn't help grinning as he walked down the corridor of deck eight, carrying a large potted Tellarian lily. The plant's aroma always made him think of pumpkin pie, with its mixture of cloves and cinnamon and nutmeg. When he was a boy, his mother had kept one in their quarters on Starbase 77 and called it the best thing the Tellarites exported. Unfortunately, his sister's cat had shared his opinion and eaten it down to the roots in a single afternoon, and they never got another lily while Tiger lived. By then, he was at Starfleet Academy.
At his destination, he stopped and announced himself. In a minute the door opened, and he stepped into Alyssa Ogawa's quarters. "Welcome aboard," he said.
Alyssa smiled broadly. "What in the world-?"
"It's a housewarming present for Drew, and it's heavy. Where do you want it?"
"Oh! Well, over here, for now." She pointed to a corner near a table in the main room. "He's taking a nap. Therapy always tires him out." Geordi set the pot down in the appointed place, and she said, "Thank you, Geordi - Captain."
"You're welcome. And we've known each other too long to be formal off duty, Alyssa." Mission accomplished, he turned to her. "So. I'm sorry I wasn't available when you reported aboard yesterday. Are you settled in?"
"Almost. Sickbay is perfect and Drew is completely unpacked, but," and she shrugged ruefully, "I've still got a few things to put away. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Sounds good." He sat down at the table and watched her as she moved to the replicator. She had regained the weight she had lost, he thought, so that she no longer looked gaunt. He hoped this meant she was recovering from the emotional blows dealt to her the past few years. "I'm glad you took the assignment. It's good to have a few familiar faces on my senior staff."
"Are you kidding? I'm the one who's grateful." She joined him, bringing two steaming mugs from the replicator. "It's not every captain who would request a physician barely two years past residency as CMO, especially when she needs to bring her son along."
Geordi took his cup. "You were a great nurse, and according to Beverly Crusher, you're a great doctor. She takes credit for you, you know."
"She should. I wouldn't have gone to medical school without her encouragement. She was my biggest supporter, after Andy." At the mention of her late husband, her cheerful mien faded but she quickly forced a smile. "And you and Sam. I don't think I could have finished without you."
Geordi acknowledged her meaning with a slight nod. Alyssa had entered medical school immediately after the destruction of the Enterprise-D on Veridian III. Her husband, Andy Powell, had taken an assignment at Headquarters at first, but during her second year he had been transferred to the USS Tecumseh. Barely five months later he was killed in a battle against the Klingons, leaving Alyssa so devastated that she had nearly dropped out. Even though he was aboard the Enterprise-E by then, Geordi had remained in close touch with her, as had Beverly Crusher. Her other close friends from the old days, Sam Lavelle and Taurik, were on other ships but they too had made an effort to be in regular contact. Between them, they had convinced her that Andy would have wanted her to finish, for her self and for their young son, Drew.
Then, just after she graduated in 2375, Drew's class had been on a field trip to Starfleet Headquarters when the Breen attacked and leveled the building. Miraculously, Drew was one of four children who survived but he was badly injured. Alyssa, frantic with grief, again nearly dropped out of her residency to devote herself to her child. Beverly Crusher had been able to arrange for Alyssa to transfer her residency to rehabilitation hospital where Drew endured a long and painful convalescence, so she was able to finish her training without having to spend long hours away from him.
The boy was ambulatory again, but far from fully recovered. When Geordi was offered command of the Odyssey, he immediately thought of Alyssa for his Chief Medical Officer. Federation medicine had done everything it could for Drew, but if reports about the Vidiians were true, they might have something that could help. Even though the mission parameters included only pre-school age children, he gladly waived that so that Alyssa and Drew could come along.
The door chime interrupted Geordi's thoughts and Alyssa released the door. Sam Lavelle walked in. "Hey," the first officer said. "Are you starting the poker game without me? I'm on lunch break, so I've got time."
"Two-handed poker? I don't think so," Alyssa said. "Grab something to eat and sit down. Tell us who else has come on board."
Sam didn't bother with the coffee, but turned a chair backwards and straddled it. Geordi recalled that when Sam was a green officer on the Enterprise, Will Riker had been his role model. He certainly had Riker's body language down pat. "Let's see. Thirty-three crewmen and nine officers have come on board since breakfast. Anyone in particular you want to know about?"
"How about our Ops officer? He had his physical today."
Sam lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. "The Delta Quadrant hero? So far, I'm not impressed."
Alyssa's eyes twinkled. "Well, I am. He's darned cute. I wouldn't be surprised if he gives you some competition, Sam."
Lavelle frowned at her. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
Geordi raised a hand. "Social potential aside, Harry Kim has an excellent record."
"With Captain Janeway." Sam shook his head. "Everyone knows the Voyager crew is sticking together. I still wish you could have pulled strings to get Lani Rager off the Komarov. At least she's a proven performer."
"You think Harry Kim isn't?" Geordi asked, surprised by the vehemence in Sam's tone.
"Oh, he's probably competent," Sam said, and waved a hand dismissively. "Captain Picard wouldn't have put up with him otherwise. But even Janeway didn't think enough of him to promote him on schedule. He was an ensign for seven years. And let's face it -- he never had to stand up to the Jem'Hadar, did he?" Then he tilted his head. "Do I smell pumpkin pie?"
"It's the lily," Alyssa said. ""If you're hungry, you know where the food is."
As Sam walked over to her replicator and ordered a piece of pie, Geordi leaned back in his chair. Lavelle had been a promising young officer on the Enterprise, and had continued to excel after moving on to other postings. He had seen almost continuous combat duty during the War, first against the Klingons and then against the Dominion. Apparently, Geordi thought, he had a bias that was common among the veterans. "I think," he said as Sam sat down again, "you should read his record more closely. Voyager's experiences in the Delta Quadrant were as much a test as anything we saw in the War."
"And besides," Alyssa added quickly, "he's got more experience in the Delta Quadrant that any of us. Personally, I'm glad we've got a couple of people on the senior staff who know where we're going and what it's like there."
Sam wrinkled his nose even as he swallowed a piece of pie. "Oh, yes. Lt. Commander Delaney. The brand new command school graduate."
"It sounds to me," Geordi said quietly, "as if you've got a problem with everyone from Voyager."
"It's not a problem," Sam replied. "But I do think they've been overrated. Everyone was so sentimental about Voyager getting home that everyone became a hero. I don't buy it. As far as I'm concerned, they're going to have to prove themselves."
Alyssa cocked her head. "Really? You know, Geordi's right. You need to read their records more closely."
"Mom!"
At the sound of Drew's frightened shout, they all froze, and Alyssa rose. "I'm here," she called. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." A pause. "I'm okay."
Looking relieved, she sat down again. "He's been having nightmares again," she said softly.
Geordi winced. "I thought he'd gotten over that."
"The counselor says it's to be expected."
She was wearing a brave face, Geordi thought, but she couldn't quite conceal her pain. And was there any pain worse than that of a parent, suffering with, and for, a child? He leaned forward and covered her hand. "He'll be okay. He's a tough kid."
"You bet," Sam echoed.
The words were no sooner spoken when Drew's door opened and the boy walked in. Like most ten year olds getting out of bed, his hair was tousled, with a cowlick pointing upward from the crown of his head. But few ten-year old boys leaned heavily on an antique wooden cane when they walked, or wore a VISOR to see. "Hi, Sam," he said. "Captain. I didn't know you were here."
"I came to welcome you to the Odyssey," Geordi said. "What do you think of my ship?"
Drew smiled slyly. "Well, I haven't seen the Bridge yet..."
Sam laughed. "Watch out for him, Captain. He's a tricky one."
"I'm not tricky," Drew protested, seemingly offended. Then he grinned. "I'm smart."
Geordi laughed. "Well, I think we can arrange a private tour of the Bridge. Commander, I think tomorrow, just before Beta shift, would be a good time."
"Great!" Drew lit up, genuinely pleased. Then his grin turned into a wince, and one hand touched his temple, near the VISOR interface.
Geordi recognized the gesture. "Headache?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah. It's like an ice cream headache, you know?" The boy shrugged.
"Yeah, I know." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "If it gets too bad, tell your mother. She always did the best adjustments to my VISOR."
"It's not so bad. But I'll be glad when I'm done growing and can get artificial eyes, like yours." Then he lifted his head and sniffed. "Is that pie?"
"Yes, and it's mine," Sam said. "Get your own, champ."
"Not before dinner," Alyssa said hastily. "And besides, that's not just pie you're smelling. Captain LaForge brought you a Tellarian lily. It's for your room."
"Thanks," Drew said so dutifully that Geordi almost laughed. Of course, no ten year old boy would be excited about a plant. He was sure Drew would learn to appreciate it in time.
"I should be getting back to work," Geordi said, rising. "Drew, I expect to get your opinion of the ship after you see the Bridge. You'll have to tell me if you think we're ready for adventures in the Delta Quadrant. We've only got a couple weeks left to make improvements."
"Yes, sir!" The boy beamed at him. Then he added, "Captain - do you really think we'll have some adventures? I mean, it's not going to be a boring diplomatic thing all the time, is it?"
"Drew," Geordi said slowly, "I think the one thing we can count on in the Delta Quadrant is that nothing ever happens the way it's supposed to. We'll have some adventures, I guarantee it."
*26*
Voyager II, Office of the First Officer, June 18, 2381 Stardate 57465 - 404
B'Elanna signaled for entry. The doors slid open and she walked into Tuvok's office.
"Commander Torres," Tuvok said. He didn't look particularly pleased to see her, but then again, it was always hard to tell exactly what Tuvok was thinking. He rose from behind the desk.
"Thanks for seeing me, Tuvok," B'Elanna said. She dropped a PADD on his desk. Tuvok eyed it.
"Is there a problem, Commander?"
B'Elanna jabbed a finger in the direction of the PADD. "I've been matching faces with names, Tuvok, and the Ensign Murphy assigned to Engineering is not the one I requested."
Tuvok picked up the PADD. "This is the personnel request for Ensign L. Murphy," he said. "Is this not the individual you requested?"
"I requested Ensign Lawrence Hugh Murphy from Voyager, not this Ensign Ludwig Murphy," B'Elanna said hotly. "The Ensign Murphy I worked with on Voyager was a competent engineering, dedicated and hardworking. The Ensign Murphy you've assigned to me is a-" she stopped for a moment, mentally searching for the right word -"a menace."
Tuvok arched an eyebrow. "A menace?"
"Yes. He's possibly the most incompetent engineer I've ever met." B'Elanna shook her head, remembering her first encounter with Ensign Murphy. For some reason, he had chosen to eat a cheese sandwich while handling the gel packs. Taken at face value, the incident seemed innocent enough except for the fact that cheese enzymes had a way of reengineering the genetic structure of the gel packs. Ensign Murphy's 'mistake' had set B'Elanna back on her engineering schedule and it had taken her days before she could speak to Murphy again calmly. However, she'd assumed that he was merely a temporary assignment, not someone whom she'd be stuck with for the long term.
"In your request for personnel transfer, you wrote yourself that Ensign Murphy performed at the highest standards," Tuvok reminded her. "You said you would be honored to have him once again on your staff."
"I know what I wrote," B'Elanna said in exasperation. She ran a hand through her hair. "But I was talking about someone else entirely. Do you know what he's done now?"
Tuvok tilted his head to the side. "I assume you plan to tell me?" His tone was one of wry amusement.
She glared at him. "He forgot to incrementally power down the power phase couplings." She stopped, waiting for Tuvok to make the connection. When Tuvok didn't speak, B'Elanna continued impatiently. "You can't just turn the power phases couplings off, Tuvok. You have to power down based on a certain schedule. If not, the heat intensity doesn't dissipate and it can cause a meltdown in the-" her voice drifted as she noticed that Tuvok's attention had drifted back to the PADD. "Are you even listening to me?"
"You have my full attention."
B'Elanna frowned, unconvinced. "So, what are you going to do about it?"
"Do?"
"About Ensign Murphy. I don't want him in my department. He causes more problems than he solves. Half of the diagnostic instruments have run down their fuel cells because he forgets to turn them off and don't even get me started on his hygiene habits! If he infects one more set of gel packs -" B'Elanna stopped, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. "Tuvok, I want this Ensign Murphy gone and I want the one I requested." B'Elanna put her hands on her hips as she glared at Tuvok.
"I see." Tuvok sat back down behind his desk. "I will contact Personnel at Starfleet Headquarters and request the transfer."
"Thank you." B'Elanna relaxed. Finally, she thought, she'd get some work done in Engineering. She'd spent most of the last few days hovering over Ensign Murphy or having one of her other engineers do so.
Tuvok looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. "Starfleet Personnel has assigned Lieutenant Lawrence Hugh Murphy to another vessel which is currently on a two-year deep space mission. He is unavailable for transfer."
B'Elanna stared. "Well, then, can we get someone else? I'm telling you, Tuvok, I won't stand for this man on my staff for another minute."
"Starfleet Personnel is non-responsive."
"Non-responsive? What the hell does that mean?" B'Elanna demanded. She rested her palms on Tuvok's desk.
"It simply means that they cannot handle the request for transfer at this moment." Tuvok looked up. "You do understand how long these types of things take? It may be a few days before I hear back."
B'Elanna bit back her frustration. Damn Starfleet and their administrivia. And then she brightened. Perhaps Personnel could use a little assistance? Perhaps in a gesture of goodwill, she could ask them if they could use Ensign Murphy in their offices-
"B'Elanna?" Tuvok looked questioningly at her.
Jolted out of her thoughts, B'Elanna said, "I was trying to come up with a solution. Perhaps Murphy is just as uncomfortable with me as I am with him. Perhaps, he wouldn't mind an assignment on Earth. That could be easily managed, couldn't it?"
"Murphy's personnel file specifically requests a deep space assignment," Tuvok stated. "I am sorry, B'Elanna. Perhaps you can make some accommodation for Ensign Murphy until we can arrange his transfer to another vessel. Perhaps some additional training will provide helpful."
Additional training? B'Elanna bristled at the suggestion. "I've already wasted enough time on Murphy, Tuvok. No amount of training is going to bring him 'up to snuff'. I want him gone. I don't care what you have to do to get rid of him, but I refuse - absolutely refuse! - to have him in Engineering for a minute longer."
"This could be a lengthy process, Commander," Tuvok said. He gestured to his viewscreen. "It could even take weeks."
"I don't care how long it takes-" She jabbed a finger in the direction of his console. "Isn't there someone out there who can help? I mean, is Starfleet Personnel really that busy?" She shook her head. "If I could go down there myself, Tuvok, I would-"
"I'm sure that won't be necessary, B'Elanna."
"Then you have to do something!" B'Elanna said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. She looked pleadingly at Tuvok, but the Vulcan's expression remained decidedly implacable. "I know you know people, Tuvok. Maybe you can call one of them? Perhaps the Captain-"
"What you are asking will require time, B'Elanna. More time than we have."
B'Elanna shrugged. "I'm talking about a quality and efficiency issue. Shouldn't we take the time to make sure we have the right people onboard to fulfill the parameters of this mission?"
"As I said, B'Elanna, as soon as I make some progress on this issue, I will inform you."
"And how long will that take?" B'Elanna was unable to let this go. "You will make this your top priority, won't you?" She knew she was being unreasonable, but at the same time, she wanted Tuvok to know exactly how frustrated she was with the situation. "Every day we keep Ensign Murphy onboard is additional liability we can't afford. Promise me you'll do everything you can to get Murphy off this ship as soon as possible."
Tuvok sighed. "And I must remind you, we do have a mission to accomplish. I'm sure the Captain will not appreciate any more delays. Especially unnecessary delays." He looked pointedly at B'Elanna. "I believe your personnel issues fall under that heading, Commander."
B'Elanna opened her mouth to protest but than realized that Tuvok did have a valid point - one that she couldn't really argue with. Besides, Janeway probably wouldn't be receptive to her problem; she could just imagine the Captain telling her to work out the Murphy issue as best as she could.
"Fine," B'Elanna said, trying to keep her tone clear of frustration. But promise me you'll keep trying? If there is any way..."
"I assure you, B'Elanna, I will find a solution for your problem."
B'Elanna nodded as she did her best to push her frustration away. In the meantime, she figured she could keep Murphy busy with scrubbing out the plasma manifolds.
*27*
San Francisco, June 20 Stardate 57473.3
"It's quite a turn out, isn't it?" Harry Kim said as he surveyed the crowd in front of him. "I don't think I've seen this much brass since I played in the Starfleet Academy band."
"I guess it's a good thing they modified the old holodecks after all," Tom Paris replied. "I was pretty upset when I heard what they were doing, but I guess they had their reasons.
"Yeah, I guess so," Harry agreed. "But it's still pretty weird to think of Voyager as being a museum. I mean, can you imagine some tour guide with a room full of kids: And right here in this holodeck, Captain Proton and his faithful sidekick battled Satan's Robot..."
"And Captain "Arachnia" Janeway, Queen of the Spider People, defeated Chaotica along with his powerful death ray and his army of evil..." Tom continued and they both laughed at the memory.
They were standing at the rail of a low mezzanine at the back of what had been Voyager's Holodeck One but was now a much larger space. Once Starfleet had decided to convert the ship into a museum, several modifications had been made, and one of the first had been to combine both the ship's holodecks to make one large one. The resulting space was big enough to hold the crowd that had been invited to celebrate the official dedication of the U.S.S. Voyager NC 74656 as an archive and research facility for those who wished to study the ship and her logs, as well as a memorial and tribute to the members of her crew who had fallen during the long journey home.
Tonight the 'new' holodeck had been programmed as an elegant rotunda, complete with pillars and statuary. There were several food stations and bars set up in alcoves set into the walls, and a string quartet was playing to one side of the large double doors leading into the room. Guests were arriving quickly now, and a definite air of celebration and expectation prevailed.
Starfleet was cognizant of the continued fascination with Voyager and her crew -- they were still print-worthy as far as the media were concerned -- and when the idea for a museum had been floated in the press the public response had been overwhelmingly in favor of it.
Today's crowd was an indication of the interest Voyager still generated. There had been very few refusals to the invitations -- in fact Admiral Blanc had complained bitterly to William Ross about the number of calls he had gotten asking him to try to get extra entrées to the event. Tickets for tours of the ship were selling well, and there had been quite a few requests by various organizations, think tanks and even government departments to hold meetings and seminars on board. As far as Commander Craig, Starfleet's media and public relations chief was concerned, it was a P.R. bonanza, and he was determined to take full advantage of every opportunity the ship and its erstwhile crew could provide.
"Where's B'Elanna?" Harry asked Tom as they continued to watch the activity swirl below them.
"She's coming a little later. She wanted Miral to have a good nap this afternoon. It's going to be a long evening, and we want her at her best."
Harry nodded and grinned. "Good idea. I've seen Miral napless. It's not pretty."
"Nope."
"I see your Dad," Harry said, "And there's Admiral Hayes. And Ross and Gelb," Harry added.
"Yes. I see them. Over there with Admiral Bullock. Can you imagine being in a room with all those guys? I bet there's more hot air circulating at one of their meetings..."
"Watch it, Tom," Harry interrupted him,
"Not my Dad, of course" Tom said quickly.
"But you never know who could be listening."
"Don't worry so much Harry," Tom replied. "I'll be careful. Are you still worried about Lavelle?"
"I don't know what it is he's got against me," Harry said.
"He'll get over it," Tom said. "Look. There's Captain LaForge and Captain Merves,"
"I'm looking forward to serving with Captain LaForge, though."
"Harry," Tom pointed. "There's Ayala. And I see both Delaneys. I heard Megan's engaged.
"I met him. Rick somebody. Great guy. Lucky guy," he added.
Tom nodded, and the thought of Marla Gilmore flashed through his mind. He resisted the urge to ask Harry about her and instead continued to point out familiar faces. " I see Neelix and Sarexa. Wow," Tom exclaimed.
"You're right. That's some jacket," Harry laughed. "It's great though. Some things shouldn't change. Hey, isn't that Will Riker?"
"Sure is. But that's not surprising. He and LaForge served on the Enterprise together for a long time. And I see Ro Laren and Lieutenant Commander Worf over by the door."
Both men continued to watch the crowd below them, waving every once in a while to friends and crewmates who happened to notice them, but mostly they stood unobserved, sometimes pointing out various notables, but often in silence.
The room was now filled almost to bursting and Tom was relieved when he finally spotted his wife and daughter. He gestured at them enthusiastically and it didn't take long for B'Elanna to spot him. He watched she began to thread her way towards him through the crowd, Miral obviously a little overwhelmed by her surroundings, held tightly in her mother's arms.
"Hello ladies!" Harry greeted them, and Miral immediately stretched her arms out to him.
"Hello Harry, hi Flyboy," B'Elanna said handing her daughter over to one of her favorite 'uncles' and coming to stand beside them at the mezzanine's railing. "Good view you've got here," she said.
"Yup," Tom replied. "You can count on us."
"There's Mrs. Janeway talking to Chakotay's sister Maya, and I see his cousins too. Tervan and Julia. But where's your mother, Harry?" she asked. I thought for sure she'd be here."
"She wanted to come, believe me," Harry said, "But she's on a retreat with her students and couldn't get out of it. And she tried."
"I can just imagine," B'Elanna said, barely managing to suppress a grin. She wondered who the lucky administrator was who'd had to deal with Mrs. Kim on a rampage, and how he'd survived it.
"Finally," Tom pointed. "See. There's Captain Janeway and Tuvok." They all watched as the two commanding officers entered the room and were quickly engulfed by the crowd.
"I feel sorry for the Captain today." Harry said. "You know how much she hates the media. She told me once she'd rather face the Borg than a press scrum. Commander Craig must drive her crazy."
"I know. By the way, where's Chakotay?" Tom asked. "He should be around. I see Professor Sakar and there's T'Pel, but I don't see the Commander. I mean the Professor," he corrected himself. "He's got something planned for later, though. I assume you got the message he sent out?"
"I got it. Pretty cryptic, if you ask me. Just 'join us after the dedication for a dedication of our own. 10 p.m. Mess Hall. Voyager'"
"Well, whatever it is, we'll all be there," Tom said, indicating his wife and daughter. "It was addressed to the three of us."
"Look out!"
They watched as the press quickly surrounded Kathryn Janeway, Geordi LaForge and Joshua Merves, all of whom had been the focus of intense media attention, particularly over the past few weeks. The Delta Quadrant mission with its multifold purposes of rescue, exploration and settlement had captured the imagination of a public hungry for anything different from the usual Starfleet news. This was the first opportunity, well orchestrated by Commander Craig, of course, the media would have to confront the three captains all at once.
"Captain, captain, over here." One reporter, waving even more frantically than the rest pushed his way forward through the crowd. "How many Romulans are there on your roster?" he shouted.
Commander Craig held up his hands for silence. He waited until the room was quiet, which took surprisingly little time, and gestured for the three captains to follow him onto a stage that had been programmed at one side of the rotunda.
There was a podium with a lectern and a microphone set up on the right side of the stage, and four high chairs arranged in a row beside it. Craig gestured to the three to sit and walked up to the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the U.S.S. Voyager," he began. "We will proceed as follows. Captains Janeway, LaForge and Merves will answer one or two questions...short questions," he added, as he watched members of the press shuffle in anticipation, "and we will then welcome President M'Renn who will officially dedicate this...museum." He turned to address the three officers behind him. "Are you ready?"
Not waiting for an answer he turned back to face his audience. "We'll start with a question from Hartley Tefton of Starfleet News. There were a few audible groans from the press corp. Hartley Tefton was a Risian journalist for the Starfleet News Network, and was known to be a friend of Commander Craig's. His program, Fleet Features, was a soft news journal and although he did cover current events, his focus was usually on the lighter side of things. Sure enough, his question, which he addressed to Geordi LaForge, was typically inane. "Captain, how have you decorated your office?"
As Geordi began his reply an aide glided onto the stage and whispered something into Commander Craig's ear.
"Captain...Captains...ladies and gentlemen," the Commander interrupted in the middle Geordi's description of his Tellarian lily, "unfortunately we're going to have to cut this portion of the program short as I'm pleased to announce that President M'Renn has arrived to officiate, and she has another engagement in..." he made a show of consulting his chronometer, "forty minutes."
Craig waited until the muttered protest of the press corps died down once again and formally introduced the President of the Federation to enthusiastic applause.
She stepped up to the podium, all feline grace, her tail erect and swishing, and waited for a moment until the room had settled down once again before she began to speak.
"This ship, with its history of adventure and exploration has been designated an historical site by the Department of Education and Cultural Affairs and will be a constant reminder to all of us of the bravery, perseverance and dedication of her crew, as well as a memorial to those who were left behind in the Delta Quadrant. But she will also serve as a universal symbol-- to remind us of who we are, and what we can be. The intention, in making Voyager a museum, was not to stop her from flying, but to make sure that we, as a united Federation, continue to fly. Voyager's example -- a ship in dire circumstances overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds, a crew united in spite of their differences working together towards a common goal, not knowing whether that goal is attainable, but nonetheless never giving up...that, ladies and gentlemen is what we must remember. And by preserving our past, we ensure our future.
"This new mission - of the new Voyager -- along with her sister ships the Odyssey and the Pioneer, will be a journey of discovery and investigation, as well as one of diplomacy and rescue. And the lessons learned in her previous journey will surely be put to the test. I have every confidence that this expedition back to the Delta Quadrant will be an unqualified success and - to paraphrase the Federation adage -- that Voyager, The Odyssey and The Pioneer will explore new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations and go boldly -- and bravely - where no one has gone before."
The applause was deafening, and M'Renn waited patiently until it abated before continuing.
"Captain Kathryn Janeway, please."
As Janeway joined the president at the lectern, M'Renn gestured to an aide who immediately came forward and handed the President a plaque.
"The inscription on this is the same one that is on the original, which is still affixed to the wall on this Voyager's bridge. Captain, will you read it for us please."
She handed the plaque to Janeway.
"For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see; Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be..."
Janeway's voice, strong and clear echoed through the rotunda.
M'Renn turned to face her. "Remember those words, Captain, as your journey begins."
*28*
Voyager II, June 20
For the first time in almost two years Voyager's mess hall was in full use. The kitchen was a beehive of activity, and Neelix, in official ambassadorial garb was supervising a team of ensigns who were putting the finishing touches on several very elaborate desserts. Sarexa tried to pull him away, but to no avail.
"It's all under control, Neelix," she told him. "Ensign Blatock is following your instructions exactly. You really should join the party."
"But I want to do this my dear," he explained. "It's so very important things be just right tonight."
Sarexa, realizing her mate was as happy as she'd seen him in a long while, patted him gently on the cheek and left him to his own devices -- and the many devices in what would always be his kitchen.
"Don't worry, Sarexa," he called after her, "I'll be where I'm supposed to be, when I'm supposed to be there!"
"Saxa, Saxa!" A small form hurled herself towards her, and Sarexa bent down just in time to catch Miral in a great big hug.
"How are you, my sweet?" she asked the child, who clung to her with her usual fierce enthusiasm. "And where's your Mommy?"
"I'm here, Sarexa," B'Elanna answered, slightly out of breath. "You know, I chase my staff all over engineering every day, and they don't seem to wear me out the way this little bundle of energy does!"
Sarexa laughed as Miral bounced off towards another familiar figure on the far side of the room, and they both watched fondly as the child was hugged and petted by all she met.
"She'll be just fine here," Sarexa said reassuringly, "She's got a roomful of caregivers to watch out for her. Why don't you sit with me for a moment and relax."
B'Elanna needed no second invitation. She sat down gratefully in the chair Sarexa offered. "It's so good to see everyone, isn't it?" She said. "This gathering of Chakotay's...of just our Voyager family and friends...it was a great idea. I can't stand those big Starfleet affairs. All that brass and formality aren't for me. I couldn't wait until the dedication ceremony was over so I could just come here and relax."
"Those ceremonies do serve a purpose, B'Elanna," Sarexa reminded her.
"Oh, I know it. Morale, image, public relations. That Commander Craig's been down to Engineering a number of times asking for statements and information he can pass on to the press. But it's all a bother, as far as I'm concerned."
The mess hall was filling up quickly and the party was in full swing. Chakotay, who had been standing at the door greeting all who entered had finally been pulled into the center of the room by Kathryn Janeway, who was one of the last to arrive. She'd had to remain at the Starfleet reception until it was officially over and had not been happy about it. To the amusement of all who were watching, he welcomed her with a quick kiss and a full flute of champagne, which she downed immediately and promptly handed back to him with a request for 'more of the same'.
The room was abuzz with conversation and laughter. Although a lot of them had kept in touch with one another, there were many crewmembers who hadn't seen each other in the months since Voyager's return, and reunions were definitely the order of the day. The warmth and joy in the hall was palpable.
Chakotay, standing in a group consisting of Michael Ayala, his two sons and a lovely young woman Michael had introduced as Kajee Narel, Tal Celes and Angelo Tessoni, watched as Janeway, her second glass of champagne in hand, circulated through the room. She stopped to hug Mark Zimmerman and he couldn't help but grin, remembering the battles the Captain and the hologram had engaged in over the years. He excused himself when he noticed his sister Maya and his cousins, Julia and Tervan deep in a conversation with Professor Zaji.
"Well big brother," Maya teased as he hugged her, "You obviously made quite an impression on your professor. But now I've told her how you learned your technique digging under rocks looking for worms to frighten me with when we were children, she might just have to reconsider your degree, isn't that right, Kimani?"
"I remember a time when both of you were chasing us," Julia recalled. "You and Tervan. Papa caught you and made you bring all the worms back to the woods."
"Yes, I remember," Tervan grinned at the memory. "We spent a whole day digging holes and burying those worms. Now that was fun!"
Kimani Zaji laughed. "I will definitely have to review his thesis...and his digging techniques."
"Too late Professor," Chakotay replied. "The degree has been approved and registered. You'll all have to trust that I deal with any worms I might find in a proper manner." He glanced across the room and spotted Owen and Alicia Paris standing in front of the mess hall's largest viewport talking with Gretchen Janeway, Tuvok and T'Pel. "I'm afraid you must excuse me," he said, "I think it's time we got things underway."
"Are you almost ready?" The Admiral asked as he approached them.
"I've been ready for a long time," Chakotay replied with a smile. "But yes, I think I am."
"Well then, let's get started, shall we?" Paris smiled back at him. "I think this is the sort of thing that should be done quickly, don't you? I promise we'll make it as painless as possible."
"Owen...do you really think that's funny?" Alicia Paris asked, and Chakotay and Gretchen laughed.
"I don't believe the Professor will find what he is about to do will be at all painful," Tuvok said solemnly, "However I'm not so sure about the Captain."
There was a moment's silence, before they all burst into laughter. "Tuvok, I do believe you've made a joke!" Gretchen said with delight. "No wonder Kathryn is so very fond of you."
Chakotay gestured to Neelix, who had long since left the kitchen and was doing his own circulating through the room. The Talaxian hurried towards them, nodding and smiling as he made his way through the crowd.
"Are you ready Comm...Professor?" he asked.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Chakotay said plaintively, but his tone was belied by his grin.
Neelix picked up a glass that was sitting on nearby table and tapped it several times with a small silver beater he dug out from a deep pocket in his jacket. Chakotay recognized it as the same one they used to ring the triangle at Prixin.
The sharp clear sound of the beater on the crystal rang through the room and immediately caught everyone's attention. The chatter stopped as all turned to the source of the sound.
"Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, officers, members of the crew, family, friends..."
Tuvok coughed gently.
"I just want to make sure I don't leave anyone out," Neelix explained amidst much applause and laughter.
"The Professor," Neelix pointed to Chakotay, "Invited me to say a few words, and so I will!" More laughter.
"Welcome, welcome, all of you," he continued when the crowd had finally quieted down. "As you know, tonight is a very special night, and we're all here to celebrate. Our ship and crew have been given a very special honor and we should all be very proud." He paused for a moment, gazing out at the many familiar faces in the crowd. "I know I am."
"But tonight we're going to celebrate something else. And I'd like to ask Admiral Paris to help me out."
As Neelix retreated and the Admiral stepped forward, a small clear voice called out "Pop Pop!" And Owen Paris grinned and waved at his grand daughter.
"Hush, Miral, Pop Pop's busy now," Tom Paris admonished his daughter gently, and turning to B'Elanna asked, "Do you know what's going on here?"
"Not a clue," she whispered back. "Shhh..."
"Chakotay," The Admiral called him forward.
"Kathryn." Janeway made her way to the front of the room to stand beside Chakotay.
"I believe Chakotay, you have something you'd like to say?" Owen Paris stepped back and left the two of them to face the crowd.
"Tonight, so far, we've witnessed not one, but two dedications," Chakotay began. "We dedicated this ship as a living memorial. We remembered our fallen, and celebrated our success. And we embraced our future when we received the dedication plaque for our newest journey - and another starship named Voyager. But there's one more dedication we'd like to make this evening."
"A dedication and a commitment," Kathryn Janeway continued, "One that we've already made, really, but that we'd like to share with you. Admiral?"
It took a moment before their guests realized what was about to transpire, but when Admiral Paris stepped forward again and faced Kathryn and Chakotay, Gretchen Janeway moved to stand beside her daughter, and Maya beside her brother it became clear.
"Yessss!" Harry Kim's voice broke through the applause, which started at the back of the mess hall and grew in volume until it became almost deafening.
The Admiral raised his hand, demanding quiet, and the crowd complied. He addressed the couple before him.
"You both have indicated to me that you wish to be joined in matrimony in the tradition of your parents. Is this still the case?"
"It is," they replied in unison.
"Then let us begin. Chakotay..."
Chakotay turned to face Kathryn and took both her hands in his.
"Kathryn Janeway, I commit to you with all my heart and all my soul. I cannot imagine a life that doesn't include you. Your joys are mine, and your sorrows are mine as well. No matter where I am, and no matter where you are - we are together in mind, in spirit and in heart."
"Chakotay..." Janeway's voice was low and steady, but her hands shook slightly as they rested in his. Chakotay stroked her palm with his thumb and they stilled. She looked down at them and up at him and smiled. "You steady me, you anchor me and you complete me. I commit to you for now, and forever -- in mind, in spirit and in heart."
Chakotay gently withdrew his hands from hers and looked at his sister, who handed him a small square box. He opened it and removed two simple silver rings, one of which he handed to Kathryn.
"These bands were made from duranium taken from the hull of this ship - of Voyager," he explained. "We will wear them with great love -- and pride." He slipped the ring he held onto Kathryn's finger and then held his hand out so that she could do the same for him. They both turned back to face Admiral Paris.
"This ceremony, then, has united the two of you as you requested, according to the laws and regulations of the Federation and the customs of your ancestors," Admiral Paris intoned formally. "You are now husband and wife."
Chakotay pulled Kathryn towards him, tipped her chin up and kissed her soundly on the lips. The cheers and hurrahs that accompanied this action caused them to break apart grinning. Gretchen Janeway hugged her daughter and her new son in law and handed them each a glass of champagne, which she had instructed Neelix to have ready and waiting for them immediately after the ceremony was over. Kathryn smiled at her mother in gratitude and raised her glass in a toast. Chakotay joined her, and throughout the room their guests did the same.
Tom Paris was the first to reach them, B'Elanna close on his heels. "I can't believe you did that -- I just can't believe it," he exclaimed as he shook Chakotay's hand. "Congratulations to the both of you. I'm impressed you were able to keep it such a secret."
"Thank you, Tom," Kathryn replied. "Coming from you that's quite a compliment." She patted Chakotay's arm fondly. "It was his idea, but I thought it was a pretty good one, myself."
"Chakotay...I...you..." B'Elanna, suddenly at a loss for words found herself engulfed in Chakotay's warm embrace.
"Thanks B'Elanna," he smiled as he released her.
"I'm so glad this is finally over," Kathryn's sister Phoebe exclaimed as they hugged. "I had a terrible time keeping it a secret you know!" She turned to Chakotay. "And now I've finally got a brother," she grinned at him. "Always wanted one of those..."
"Glad to oblige," he replied, "And we appreciate that you managed to keep it quiet, believe me."
"And it was a lovely ceremony, too," she turned back to her sister, "Typical Kathryn -- short and to the point!" Kathryn grinned and reached out to embrace her sister once more. "And exactly what we wanted," she replied.
"There's dessert, there's ice cream," Neelix announced as he bustled through the crowd. "And there's coffee, Captain," he said as he hurried by her on his way back to the kitchen.
"Captain, Professor." The voice was insistent and the tone was one of annoyance. Janeway turned to find herself face to face with Commander Craig, Starfleet's number one public relations and communications officer, and, recently one of the banes of her existence.
"How could you do this without telling me," he complained. "I would have had a photographer and someone from the networks here to cover it. What an opportunity we've missed."
"I beg your pardon?" Janeway replied. "I don't recall inviting you this evening."
"I overheard some of your staff discussing this gathering. You must be aware that all public functions on this ship are subject to approval by my department."
"The approval for this gathering came from the Admiralty, and as far as I'm concerned that's approval enough for me. This is a private party, and there is to be no coverage. No coverage at all. Do you understand me?"
"But it's a great news story, Captain," Craig was almost whining. "Great publicity."
"In a few days you can send out a small release announcing the Captain and I are married," Chakotay informed him. "I'll call your office and tell you when. But in the meantime, if there is one hint of this in tomorrow's papers..."
"There will be hell to pay." Admiral Paris finished for him. "Now have a glass of wine, there's a good man, and leave these people alone."
Owen Paris took Commander Craig firmly by the arm and led him away.
***
The party continued, and one by one each of the guests filed by and offered their congratulations to the bride and groom. By the end of the evening Janeway was exhausted and even Chakotay was feeling the strain.
"I'm glad we only have to do this once," he said to her as the last of their guests finally left the mess hall.
"Once is more than enough, thank you," she replied.
"Are you sorry?" he asked her, suddenly serious.
Instead of replying, she pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Never," she whispered into is lips, just before she kissed him.
"Now take me home, Professor, that's an order."
*29*
Mess Hall, Voyager II, June 24
She sensed he was there before she saw him.
"Can I help you?" She asked, without lifting her head from the report she was reviewing.
"Captain Janeway."
It was a statement, not a question.
After several long beats, Janeway finally looked up. The young man who stood before her, obviously very much at ease, kit bag slung casually over his shoulder, didn't really look as if he needed any help at all.
She raised one eyebrow - in a fair imitation of Tuvok - she hoped wryly, and deliberately returned her gaze to the PADD she had been studying. But the young man either couldn't take a hint, or was being intentionally obtuse. He continued to stand there, waiting for her full attention.
She had decided to take a quick break from her office and the tedium of dealing with pre-mission minutia that seemed to have taken over her life recently as Voyager II's departure drew closer, and had made her way to a table in a quiet corner of the mess hall with a freshly brewed pot of coffee. Most of her staff knew not to bother her during these rare down times -if you could call them that - but this young man was definitely new, and had clearly not yet been briefed on the likes, dislikes and habits of The Captain.
The ship's personnel had been checking in regularly over the past several days, and she had been making an effort to meet and greet as many of them as she was able. She and Tuvok had reviewed the crew roster countless times and in consultation with Starfleet Personnel had literally handpicked most of their staff, and so far she was extremely pleased with those she had seen. She had instructed all department heads to send the new crewmen her way after they had been properly processed and inducted. However, she reflected, not during her coffee breaks.
But this young man was different. His attitude was casual, his demeanor, although not at all disrespectful, was more relaxed than any of the others who had presented themselves to her. And, she realized, when she finally lifted her head to look at him again, he was probably one of the most beautiful young men she'd ever seen.
He wasn't too tall, not much over six feet, but he was definitely well built and filled out his Starfleet uniform very nicely. She shook her head imperceptibly and wondered where that thought had come from. His features, although not perfect, melded together perfectly. He had full lips, a slightly aquiline nose, piercing blue eyes, and a shock of dark brown hair, a lick of which resting lightly over his forehead, gave him an air of casual insouciance. He had a magnetism that even Kathryn Janeway, newly married and very much in love, couldn't help but notice.
When he saw he finally had her full attention, he tossed his bag down onto the floor beside him, retrieved a chair from the table next to hers and sat down across from her.
Janeway, torn between annoyance and amusement at his presumption, sat back and waited.
"I'm Lieutenant Chip Dalen," he said with a smile, "Ship's counselor, reporting for duty." His voice was mellifluous with a slightly exotic accent, and his smile dazzling. Janeway had to force herself not to respond in kind.
"I reported in to sickbay about a half an hour ago, but the Doctor wasn't available and the ensign who was there suggested I come back later," he explained.
"I see," Janeway said, "Did you not try to seek out the appropriate personnel officer first? I believe Lieutenant Colson is responsible for intake and induction procedures today. She would have told you when the Doctor is on duty."
"I did," he replied with another engaging grin. "We had a nice conversation, actually, and she gave me all the information I needed. She was very efficient," he said, defending his fellow officer, "but I told her I thought I'd have a look around and introduce myself, anyhow."
Janeway immediately wondered whether Lieutenant Colson had been so charmed by a pair of bright blue eyes she had neglected to mention that one didn't just wander around the ship introducing oneself to the captain at will.
"I know it's probably not proper procedure," he continued, and she tried to recall whether Counselor Dalen had listed psychic capabilities among his counseling skills, " but I like to get a feel for the ships I work on as soon as possible."
"I see."
"I met several members of your staff and crew on my way here," he continued, "They were very helpful in pointing me in the right direction. A Lieutenant Commander Delaney escorted me on a tour of the Astrometrics laboratory..."
"I can imagine. But Jenny Delaney has been assigned to the Odyssey..."
"Yes, she told me," he replied. "She was here visiting a friend. She's quite vivacious, isn't she?"
Janeway could only nod in agreement.
And there was an Ensign Meltor too. She helped me with my bag, although that wasn't really necessary. And Professor Chakotay..."
"Professor Chakotay?" Janeway couldn't quite mask her surprise.
"He was on his way back from a meeting, I believe. In fact it was Professor Chakotay who suggested I try the mess hall, he said he thought you'd try to escape here..."
"Professor Chakotay is a dead man," Janeway muttered quietly under her breath.
"Did you say something, Captain?" Dalen asked, and then continued without pause. "He also told me he thought it might be a good idea if you showed me where my office is yourself, although I told him I was sure I could find it on my own."
Janeway twisted the wedding band, still so new on her finger, and wondered fleetingly what exactly constituted justifiable homicide, and whether if she murdered Chakotay before they actually left for the Delta Quadrant it would impact negatively on her image as mission commander.
"Let's go then," Janeway said decisively, and stood up, indicating to her newest crewmember that he follow her lead. He did with alacrity, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder in a casually fluid manner.
They exited the mess hall together, and headed for the turbolift. On their way down the corridor they passed two young female crewmembers who stared at her companion in awe for several long seconds before remembering to salute their captain. Janeway nodded at them, and turned to look at Dalen who seemed to be totally oblivious to the commotion he was causing.
"You're here, on Deck 5," Janeway told him as they exited the turbolift and headed towards a group of offices not far from sickbay.
"I understand you've been on several long deep space missions," Janeway said, as they made their way around a flustered looking ensign who somehow managed to drop the toolbox she was carrying as they passed.
"Yes, I spent eleven months on the Cochrane and sixteen months on the Mohawk," Dalen replied, as he'd retrieved the last of the young woman's escaped hypo-spanners and handed it back to her with a smile. "The Mohawk was on an isolation assignment for five of those months. I developed several methodologies for dealing with problems unique to remote missions, and I expect some of those same situations will arise during our travels as well." He stopped in front of the door marked Counselor, and turned to face her. "I'm more than prepared, Captain," he said seriously.
"Lieutenant, you would not be here if I didn't think you could do the job," Janeway told him as she began to key a code into the pad beside the door.
"Thank you, Captain," he said and they both stared in surprise as the door opened before she had completed the sequence.
"Hello Captain," B'Elanna Torres said, as Janeway stepped into the office, Chip Dalen right on her heels. "The counselor's replicator needed a bit of an adjustment, and I thought I'd see to it myself." She grinned impishly and Janeway raised an eyebrow in reply.
"Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres," Janeway introduced them. "Voyager's chief engineer - Lieutenant Chip Dalen."
Torres reached out to shake Dalen's outstretched hand. "Welcome aboard, Counselor. I think you'll like it here."
"I think so too," he replied and dropped his kit bag onto the sofa opposite his desk. "Everyone is extremely friendly," he added, as he opened up the bag and began to rummage through it. They both watched in silence as he pulled out a large silver goblet, a heavy looking candle with three wicks, and a small silver bell. He ran his fingers abstractedly through his hair as he surveyed the room carefully, obviously contemplating where he would put these objects, and they both realized he'd forgotten they were there.
Janeway pulled at B'Elanna's sleeve and they both turned and left him to his own devices without another word.
"Not you too, B'Elanna," Janeway said as the office door swished shut behind them. "Please don't tell me..."
"Don't worry, Captain," Torres grinning, hurriedly reassured her. "But I heard about him from four members of my staff this morning. I just wanted to see what all the fuss is about."
Janeway sighed, and then laughed. "I wonder how many crewmembers are going to suddenly find a need to consult our new counselor?" she mused as they headed towards the turbolift.
"I'll bet they'll be lined up at his door...before we even leave the Quadrant."
*30*
Voyager II, June 25, 2381 Stardate 57476, T-minus two hours
The transporter operator looked up curiously from his controls. "And you are?"
"Lieutenant Auraan, Chief of Ops," she snapped, adjusting the strap of the duffle bag on her shoulder as she stepped off the transporter pad, surprised he wasn't expecting her. "You should have been notified of my arrival."
"Yes, ma'am," the Ensign said, straightening to attention at her tone of voice. "Just a confirmation, ma'am." He added, somewhat apologetically, "It's not the usual procedure for crewmembers--let alone senior officers--to beam aboard less than two hours before the scheduled launch time." Auraan flushed as he continued to stare at her. "If you need any help taking your belongings to your quarters, I can have someone--"
"That won't be necessary," she said, cutting him off. "I'm on my way to the bridge." She strode out into the corridor.
The strap of her bag was cutting painfully into her shoulder. Auraan briefly regretted turning down the ensign's offer of assistance. She stopped, rubbed the painful muscle, then hoisted the bag once more. A Rigelian crew member--also a lieutenant, she noticed from his pips--approached from the opposite direction, then slowed imperceptibly as he passed her. He was accompanied by two women, one of whom appeared to be Bajoran, the other Vulcan. All three glanced at her curiously, then resumed their whispered conversation. Auraan felt her face tighten. They were probably talking about her. She wondered if they knew who she was, or even worse, assumed she was Bolian because of the similarity of her skin coloration.
She entered the turbolift, glad to find it was empty. "Bridge," she ordered. She composed herself best as she could, conscious she needed to make a good impression on her commanding officers. "'Begin as you wish to proceed,'" she muttered under her breath, echoing one of her grandmother's favorite aphorisms. Though she had ceded the throne in favor of her eldest son some years before, the Queen Mother was as sharp as ever, still retaining her political acumen. Auraan knew her grandmother's advice would doubtless be useful on this 'officer exchange' program with Starfleet she had committed herself to for the next year.
The turbolift doors opened. Auraan took a deep breath and stepped out onto the bridge. The first thing she saw was a Klingon at Tactical and a Terran at Ops--her station. The Klingon looked fierce but that was nothing compared to the look the Vulcan first officer gave her as he rose from the center command seat.
Lifting her chin proudly, she said, "Lieutenant Auraan reporting for duty, sir."
"I am Commander Tuvok," he said with a slight frown. "Lieutenant, all personnel were required to check in no later than 24 hours before launch."
"I had a message sent," Auraan said immediately, "explaining that there were extenuating circumstances and that I would be arriving a bit later but would be on board in time for the launch."
Tuvok was about to answer, but another voice spoke first. "I don't know what the norm is in the Troyian Royal Navy, Lieutenant," said a petite woman standing just outside the Ready Room door, "But in Starfleet officers are supposed to follow regulations to the letter, no exceptions made." She drew even with Auraan and gave her a level look. "Particularly before a mission has even begun."
Auraan flushed deep indigo but kept her temper under control. "I apologize for any inconvenience, Captain, but I--" her voice faltered underneath that cold gaze. "I'm sorry." Her head held high, her spine perfectly straight, Auraan turned and started toward the Ops station, prepared to take up her position.
"Lieutenant Auraan," said Tuvok sharply, "You have been assigned the gamma shift. Ensign Zesas will continue at Ops for the remainder of this rotation."
Auraan opened her mouth to protest but her eyes met those of the captain and she thought better of it. "Would you tell me where I am supposed to be now, Commander?" she asked frostily.
"Report to sickbay, Lieutenant, for your medical exam."
"Yes, sir." Auraan turned on her heel and exited into the turbolift, trying to wrap the last shreds of her dignity around her.
***
Even the patterned breathing exercises her drill instructor at the Royal Academy was so fond of couldn't help her calm down. Auraan stomped angrily into sickbay, trying not to think about the debacle that had just occurred on the bridge. There was no need for the captain and commander to treat her so dismissively, none whatsoever--
"May I help you?" A pleasant looking dark skinned Terran male looked up and smiled. The only other medical personnel she could see was an officer moving around in an inner office, and what was probably a technician working in an adjacent lab.
"Lieutenant Auraan. I'm here for my physical," she said brusquely.
"Well, Lieutenant, why don't you stick your bag in a corner and sit down on a biobed." He smiled again and gestured at the empty room. "Take your pick." He picked up the mediwand, prepared to run a scan.
"I'm Troyian," she said right away. "You don't want to set the baseline for a Bol--"
"You know," he said so smoothly it hardly seemed like he was interrupting her, "It's amazing the advances in technology these days. I could tell right off the bat that you were Troyian--not because I'm a brilliant physician or have an extensive background in xenobiology--although both of those happen to be true--but because the medical tricorder is telling me just that."
The mildness with which this was said brought her up short. "I'm sorry," she murmured, embarrassed. "I'm not usually so--I'm having a really bad day."
He paused for a moment. "Is there anything else I should know about you?"
"No."
"Then let's start again," he said. "I'm Doctor Zeke Brown." He held out his hand.
"Lieutenant Auraan," she said, holding out her own hand in return.
The warm pressure of his hand was reassuring--and friendly. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant." He picked up his mediwand once more. "Now let's get this exam out of the way so you can unpack and get settled in."
*31*
Voyager II June 25, 2381 Stardate 57475 1400 hours
:::Good journey, Captain,::: said Admiral Hayes. Next to him, on the main promenade of the station, stood a variety of dignitaries, including the Federation president.
"Thank you, sir," Janeway said. "Request permission to depart."
Hayes nodded. :::Give our regards to the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn. And we're looking forward to your safe return in another 18 months.:::
"We'll do our best, Admiral." As soon as the connection was broken, Janeway looked at the Ops officer. "Open a shipwide channel. All hands, this is the Captain. Prepare for our immediate departure. Janeway out."
***
The main observation lounge was nearly filled with off-duty personnel. The heaviest concentration of people, of course, was directly in front of the large floor-to-ceiling viewports through which the docking clamps still holding the ship firmly in place could be seen. Even as Chakotay watched, one of the slender pylons swung outward, away from Voyager, and slowly began to retract itself into the main body of the docking bay.
Chakotay glanced down at his neat civilian clothes. It felt strange not to be in uniform, even stranger not to be standing on the bridge right now, at Kathryn's side. A glimmer of starlight reflected off the simple metal band he wore on his left hand. He smiled at this reminder that despite the changes their lives had undergone in the years since the original voyage--or perhaps because of them--he and Kathryn were embarking now on a shared journey of discovery.
Closer to the viewports, Chakotay caught sight of a tall graceful figure in Vulcan dress accompanied by a smaller one who jumped and down and squealed with excitement. Chakotay's smile turned to a grin as he saw T'Pel bend down to Miral and then pick her up so she could see better. He started to make his way toward them through the crowd, trying to ignore the whispered murmurings as he passed, "That's the captain's husband!"
He had nearly reached the other side of the room when he noticed, standing off to one side, a very striking young woman in a gold Starfleet uniform. Or at least she would have been beautiful were it not for the sour expression on her face. The woman's skin was a pale dusky blue, which contrasted sharply with her inky mane of hair and wide dark eyes. For a moment he couldn't place which species she belonged to; Bolians were bald, and she lacked the Andorian antennae. And then he remembered that Kathryn had mentioned the new Chief of Ops was Troyian. But if that indeed was her identity, why was she here right now, in the lounge, instead of on the bridge? Normally, the alpha shift would be on duty on the occasion of a mission launch. Just then she raised her head and gave him a cold stare, and then moved out of his line of vision.
Chakotay shook his head; it was no business of his. Such matters were under the purview of the ship's new first officer
***
Odyssey
"Docking clamps released, sir."
Captain Geordi La Forge nodded to the helmsman. "Thank you, Lieutenant Korbut. Take us out nice and easy, one quarter impulse."
"Aye, Captain."
Geordi's gaze met that of Harry Kim at the Ops station. In the younger man's eyes Geordi saw the same sense of excitement he himself felt, but there was something more--almost the look of a man who was returning home. Geordi smiled, not really surprised. He could well imagine how the original 'Voyagers' felt about returning to the Delta Quadrant.
Next to him, Sam Lavelle had noticed Kim's expression as well; with an impatient clearing of his throat, the first officer activated his console and called up the mission protocols. Geordi shook his head, and then turned his attention back to the main viewscreen and watched as the planets of Earth's solar system quickly slipped by.
***
Pioneer
"Incoming message from Utopia Planitia, main docking ring, sir," said the young Ops officer. "Prepare for departure in three minutes."
"Acknowledged," said Captain Josh Merves.
"About time," said Ambassador Diaza, with a slight edge to his voice. "Was it really necessary to keep us waiting for so long?" At his side, his aide stirred but did not speak.
"There are certain protocols and procedures involved in departure from spacedock," Lieutenant Ayala noted from the Tactical station. Merves gave him a grateful look.
But Diaza was not satisfied. "I understand that, but did we have to be the last of the three ships to be thus released?" he demanded.
"It's my understanding that the escort vessels--in this case Voyager and Odyssey--always go before a colony ship or other civilian transport," the Talaxian Ambassador put in diffidently. Diaza stared at him for a moment as if he were beneath contempt and then resumed fuming under his breath.
Merves hurriedly rose from his seat and went to stand by the Helm console. He didn't know which bothered him more, Diaza's constant complaints and criticisms or the cold silence of the Romulan 'observer.' He bit back a sigh. It was going to be a long journey.
***
Voyager II
B'Elanna glanced around Engineering, mentally checking off that each engineer was at his or her assigned station. Unable to relax, she called up the latest warp diagnostic figures once more.
"Everything appears to operating within normal parameters, Commander," Vorik said to her quietly.
B'Elanna jumped guiltily, and then smiled. "Thanks, Vorik, but I just wanted to make sure."
:::Bridge to Engineering,:::
"Torres here, Captain."
:::All systems ready to go?"::: asked Janeway.
"Yes, Captain," B'Elanna said, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Just give the word."
***
On the bridge, Janeway rose from her seat and walked to the main viewscreen. Without turning around, she said, "The word is given."
A faint, almost imperceptible hum arose. "Mr. Paris?" Janeway said crisply.
"Increasing our speed to one-half impulse...full impulse...we're at warp, Captain."
"Very good," Tuvok said. "Maintain maximum cruising speed."
***
Pathfinder
Admiral Paris watched the screen mounted on the wall in the main complex as the three sleek ships--each equipped with a third nacelle signifying their transwarp capabilities--moved outward from Utopia Planitia's outermost docking ring in formation. He stood there for a long time, unmoving, until the ships had passed beyond the range of the short term sensors. And then his lips moved in a barely heard whisper, "Godspeed, Kathryn--for you and the rest of your people."
FINIS
Coming next: Cyclops: The new mission is sidetracked.
1. Hayes tells Janeway of new mission parameters (Rocky) January 10
2. Colony ship idea introduced, personnel matters (Rocky) beginning of February
3. Jim Morrow decides to go to Bajor (Penny) beginning of February
4. J/C scene (CyberMum) February
5. Ayala and his boys (Christina) beginning of March
6. Janeway & Torres discuss Vidiians (Julie) March
7. 2nd Ayala Scene (Christina)
8. Bajor-- Ayala, Tal, Celes & Morrow decide to go to DQ (Janet) beginning April
9. Andorian governor (Christina) April
10. Neelix and Sarexa (CyberMum) April
11. Naomi Wildman (April)
12. 1st Delaney scene (Christina) early May
13. 2nd Delaney scene (Christina) early May
14. 1st Marie Stevens scene (Christina) Mid May
15. Joe Carey family decides not to go (Rocky) Mid May
16. J/C/ Chakotay & civilian scientist set up May (CyberMum)
17. Tom & B'Elanna reuniting with Harry (Julie) late May
18. Janeway/Tuvok touch base, mission updates, introduce Romulan observer (Rocky) end of May
19. Geordi in his ready room (Penny) beginning of June
20. Harry & Sam Lavelle (Julie) early June
21. 2nd Marie Stevens scene (Christina) mid June
22. Tom & B'Elanna begin settling into quarters on Voyager II (Julie) 2 weeks before departure mid June
23. EMH-Zeke scene (Penny) within 2 week departure window - mid June
24. Tuvok and T'Pel settle into their quarters on Voyager II (Janet)
25. Geordi with Lavelle & Ogawa (Penny) within 2 week departure window mid June
26. B'Elanna discovers she's been given the wrong Murphy (Seema) one week before departure
27. Museum dedication (CyberMum
28. J/C dedication (CyberMum) June 20
29. Counselor Chip Dalen checks in, along with other personnel (CyberMum) 48 hours before departure
30. Lt. Auraan makes a belated appearance (Rocky) June 25
31. 3 ships launch for DQ (Rocky) June 25 Stardate 57476 1400 hours
CyclopsOn their way to the Delta Quadrant, the 3 ships make a side trip to help an old enemy and save the galaxy from certain doom.