VIRTUAL SEASON 7.5

episode 32b

Reconstruction Blues

Part 2

(continued from Reconstruction Blues 1)

Act 4: October - November

Utopia Planitia October 1, 2380 Stardate 56756.2

"So, Kathryn, what do you think? Ready for another mission?"

Janeway tore her gaze away from the mesmerizing image of the ship in the shuttle's viewscreen to see Admiral Hayes grinning at her expectantly. He was offering her a new command--something she had hoped for--and at the same time dreaded--these many months. She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, suddenly at a loss for words.

Perhaps realizing he'd caught her off-guard, Hayes leaned forward and spoke to the shuttle pilot, then turned back to her. "We'll return to the main docking ring, and then find a quiet place where we can talk about the specifics."

A short time later, the two of them were sitting in one of the many conference rooms that dotted the Utopia Planitia complex.

Hayes called up several files on a computer terminal, then pushed the monitor in her direction. "As I've already said, Voyager Two will be the first transwarp-capable vessel in the Fleet--excepting the original ship by that name, of course. But this time there won't be any emergency crash-landings, or so we hope." He smiled as if to soften his words, and then turned serious once more. "This is going to revolutionize space travel as we know it, as distances that would ordinarily take decades to cover can now be traversed in months." He cleared his throat. "The ship's maiden voyage will be to the Delta Quadrant."

*The Delta Quadrant.* At those words, a rush of images flooded Janeway's mind. Places and people such as the Caretaker, Kes, the Kazon, Seska, New Hope, the Borg, Hirogen hunting parties, Seven--and many, many more. Old space battles and new discoveries, her greatest triumphs and some of her most crushing losses. Striving to keep her voice steady, she asked, "What are the mission parameters, Admiral?"

"Primarily, to re-establish contact between the Federation and the planet of the 37's," Hayes said, referring to the world where Voyager had discovered a still-living Amelia Earhart as well as a Human colony descended from individuals kidnapped from 20th century Earth by aliens known as the Boirii. The aliens themselves had long since vanished, and only the Humans remained. "Travel time will be approximately three to four months; the entire mission is expected to be between nine and twelve months' duration."

"I see," Janeway said neutrally.

"Establish contact with the Boirii--I believe we can apply that name to the Humans themselves now--and set up FTL communication with them. Your logs stated that they were definitely interested in cultural exchanges, and in learning about Earth. And I'm sure you remember how excited our anthropologists were at the news of a four hundred year old Human colony which has developed in complete isolation from the homeworld."

"What about contact with other species in that sector, Admiral?" Janeway asked, as she scrolled through the files. "As you are aware, that particular region of space is also frequented by the Kazon, Talaxians and Vidiians, just to name a few."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Hayes said firmly. "This is the first of what will hopefully be a series of missions."

"I'm honored that you thought of me to lead it, sir," Janeway said, and she meant it.

"This decision didn't take a great deal of thought--who else would we name as the captain of a new Voyager? And not just because of the ship's name--much of the technological innovation in the new Intrepid class is a direct result of discoveries you and your crew made. No, Kathryn, you're the ideal choice on several counts." Hayes smiled again, clearly pleased with himself. "Of course, you'll need to finish out your obligations at the Academy as far as this semester is concerned, but you can also use this time to begin studying the specs of the ship, bringing yourself up to speed."

And selecting her crew, the officers serving under her on this mission, Janeway added silently, as the implications began to sink in. Aloud, she said, "What is the projected launch date?"

"The end of December," Hayes said confidently. "That gives you plenty of time to make all the necessary preparations." He stood, indicating that the meeting was over. "I know I've given you a great deal to think about. I expect to have your formal acceptance on my desk within the next few days."

"Yes, sir." As the doors closed behind Hayes, Janeway sank into a chair once more. 'A lot to think about'--that was an understatement. A chance to return to the Delta Quadrant, a chance to command the first transwarp vessel! And then she envisioned herself breaking the news to Chakotay, who was no longer a member of Starfleet.

Starfleet Housing Complex, San Francisco October 2, 2380 Stardate 56759.0

"Kathryn, I'm home!"

Janeway looked up from her work to see Chakotay drop his bag by the front door of their apartment. She put her stylus down next to the stack of student assignments and lifted her head to receive his kiss. "How did it go?"

"It turned out to be a good thing I stayed overnight in Tucson after all," he said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "The faculty meeting didn't end until after midnight."

"And to think you used to complain about the length of Starfleet briefings," she said, amused.

He gave her a rueful grin as he went into the next room. "Speaking of Starfleet," he called from the kitchen, "what happened with your meeting with Admiral Hayes yesterday? Did he make you any offers?"

"Oh, yes, he certainly did." She waited until he came back, carrying a cup of coffee. "Let's sit down in the living room and I'll tell you about it."

"But that's wonderful, Kathryn!" he exclaimed when she had finished telling him the details. "You couldn't ask for anything better. Captain of Voyager II--" He stopped short. "Why do I get the feeling you're not happy?"

"I don't have any complaints about the mission, Chakotay," she swiftly reassured him. "And you're right, this will be a wonderful opportunity, much better than I could have hoped for."

"Then what's bothering you?" he asked, moving closer to her on the sofa and taking her hand in his.

Janeway averted her head and focused her gaze on a stain in the carpet. "Hayes admitted back in February that he wasn't sure what to do with me, if I could be trusted with another command," she confessed. "Sending me off to the far reaches of the galaxy sounds like a pretty good solution."

"You honestly think Hayes is doing this just to get rid of you?" Chakotay shook his head. "Aside from the fact that it would be much easier to keep you out of trouble by just assigning you to a desk job, Kathryn, let me remind you what Hayes said *now*--that you're the perfect choice for this mission, for several reasons. Your background, your abilities--you should be concentrating on the positive aspects of his offer, not looking for some ulterior motive on the part of the Admiralty."

She gave a forced laugh. "You're right, I'm being foolish. They don't just hand over brand new ship prototypes to officers they consider troublesome."

"Now you're talking sense," Chakotay said approvingly, and then with his free hand he gently lifted her chin until she was looking directly at him. "There's something else, though, isn't there?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You still don't seem as excited as I thought you would be," he said. He gave her a searching look. "Isn't this everything you wanted?"

"Not everything," she said softly as she reached up and traced the outline of his tattoo.

He caught her fingers in his own and brought them to his lips. "Kathryn, I told you once before that I don't want you to give up your career for me. And that's what you'd be doing. You can't turn down this assignment--if you do, you'll never get another opportunity like this again."

"That's not necessarily true," she protested.

"Of course it is, and you know it," he said emphatically. "Turn Hayes down, and you're condemning yourself to spending the rest of your life planet-side. And you know you wouldn't be happy with that."

Janeway got up and went over to the large bay window. It was a glorious autumn day outside; the sky was a perfect shade of blue and the leaves were just beginning to turn. She swung around to face him. "Happiness can be found in many different ways, Chakotay."

"Perhaps, but as the years would go by you'd long for space, to be out among the stars once more. And with each passing year, your regrets would grow heavier and heavier until they'd crush any happiness you think you've found." He joined her at the window. "I know you, Kathryn. There's a part of your spirit which can't be caged, but which has to be free to fly. If you stifle it now--" He took a deep breath. "Can you honestly deny what you felt when you saw the new ship? How will you feel when you hear that someone else has gotten that command?"

"I would feel pretty awful," she admitted. "But Chakotay, what about us?"

"What about us? I'll always love you, Kathryn," he said with a tender smile that made her heart turn over. "And I have no doubts about your feelings for me."

She leaned against him slightly, her sleeve just barely brushing his. "The mission is projected to last a year."

"You could always bring me along. I'm assuming that spouses *will* be allowed, as this is a deep space assignment." He chuckled. "Who knows? This might be just the impetus we need to finally tie the knot, and silence our friends and families who've been pushing for us to set a date."

Janeway refused to treat it as a joke. "But what about *your* career? You've barely into your second semester at the University. Taking a leave of absence now is certainly not going to help you advance along the tenure track. You might even lose your teaching position."

"The mission objectives sound like they just might benefit from the presence of a civilian scientist or two--especially an anthropologist/archaeologist who is already well versed in Delta Quadrant cultures and has published at least one paper on the relationship between one such group of aliens and Terran cultures," Chakotay countered. "If anything, this would be a boost to my career."

She nodded slowly. What he was saying did make sense. But she needed to be sure. "But is this what you really want? Chakotay, in an ideal world what would you choose for our next step?"

He hesitated before answering. "I'd like to build a cabin with you in a pristine rural area, on the edge of a desert, or maybe tucked into a sheltered wooded valley," he admitted finally. "That's my dream, but I don't have to realize it yet. And as a certain starship captain once demonstrated to me, we don't live in an ideal world, but it's up to each of us to do the best we can with what life has handed us. Sometimes it's harder than others." He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "I definitely wouldn't put this in the category of hardship, Kathryn. Aside from being with you--which is all I really need, no matter where we are--I also feel the allure of going back to the DQ. I'd be damn jealous if I couldn't come along."

She was silent for a long moment. "I'll tell Admiral Hayes in the morning."

Voyager II, Utopia Planitia October 8, 2380 Stardate 56778.4

"Yes! One hundred percent helm response!" Gerry Culhane raised his fist in the air. "We could fly this thing out of here tomorrow!"

"With the engines off-line?" Ava Fererra asked dryly.

"One hundred percent is good," Tom said. "But don't forget most captains expect at least one hundred and ten percent and nothing less."

Gerry shook his head at that keen observation and tapped Delia O'Brien on the shoulder. "Just when we were ready to break out the champagne, these two have to be wet blankets."

"We're almost there, Gerry," Tom said. "But there are a few refinements I want to complete."

"And we still need the laminate repellent overlay for the top panel," Delia said, pointing at the fingerprint-smudged helm console.

"Picky, picky," Gerry said, grinning at Delia. "The old reliable 'spit and polish' method works just as well."

Delia wrinkled her nose at him.

"It'll be another couple of weeks before we can break out the champagne," Tom said. "With a full team in Astrometrics now, we can start integrating all the navigational subroutines next week. And I have to check with Vorik to make sure all the Helm-Engineering communication protocols are in place. But we're

done for today."

"I can go to Engineering and check the--"

"Delia," Tom interrupted her. "I'm the boss, and I say we're done for today. That means all of us." He waved a hand at her. "Forget work and go out dancing or something."

"There's a nice club in civilian D section called 'Magellan's Cloud'" Gerry said. "I hear they serve pretty good food, and there's a jazz band in the evening. I'll buy you both an early celebratory drink, ladies," he offered, his gaze moving from Delia to Ava and remaining there for several seconds.

Tom had noticed that same lingering look several times recently. Gerry was definitely interested in Ava, and who could blame him? She was intelligent, witty and very easy on the eyes. Go for it, he thought.

"I don't know," Ava hesitated. "I have a few things I should take care of--"

"Oh, go have some fun, Ava," Tom said. "You're young and single. Take advantage of it."

Ava raised an eyebrow Vulcan-style, and Tom supposed he did sound a bit grandfatherly, though she wasn't more than seven or eight years his junior. "The dance floor is great," he said, to dispel any notion that he needed a rocking chair. "B'Elanna and I have been there."

Gerry spoke before Ava could. "Come on, Ava. You can help me protect Delia from the more corruptive elements. We can order her some root beer."

It was an ongoing joke, Gerry referring to Delia as innocent and vulnerable because of her youthful looks. Delia snorted. "Root beer? My drink of choice is whiskey, thank you. And I won't end up dancing on any tables."

"That's too bad," Gerry said, grinning. He turned to Ava. "How about you?"

Ava rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "It's not going to happen, Culhane."

Gerry grinned wider. "So you're coming. Great!"

Ava frowned at his quick assumption, then acquiesced with a shrug. "Fine. You coming, Tom?"

Tom shook his head. "I've got to pick up my daughter. But you three go ahead. In fact, get out of here now, before I change my mind and think of something else for you to do."

Gerry didn't need any further prodding. He hustled Delia and Ava across the bridge as if they might get away from him. Tom got the impression Ava was just being a good sport, but he was glad to see her go.

Not that he was trying to get rid of her. They'd all worked comfortably together over the past weeks, including Ava, though he'd surreptitiously arranged the schedule so they weren't alone again, even on the bridge with a dozen or more other people nearby. They'd all become comfortable sharing banter back and forth--some of a ribald nature--but she hadn't directed any flirtatious comments specifically at him. In fact she hadn't treated him any differently, which meant he still sometimes felt like she was watching him, nor had she referred to that day again.

Which left him a little confused. Maybe she'd simply been teasing him in her own odd way. Despite her friendliness, something about her remained elusive, and he still couldn't completely read her moods or motivations.

Or perhaps his non-reaction had discouraged any follow up on her part. He should just feel flattered and leave it at that, Tom decided as he shut down the rest of the helm functions. He'd been on the receiving end of a few interested looks from women since Voyager's return to Earth. He didn't encourage them but he couldn't deny that it pumped his ego a little. He was only human, after all.

Tom exchanged goodnights with several officers on the bridge whom he'd gotten to know over the past couple of weeks. On his way to the cargo bay he saw few other familiar faces, since only a handful of the former Voyager crew were working on the new ship besides himself and B'Elanna. Most had been assigned to other ships, those who hadn't resigned from Starfleet and gone on to other things. Even Kathryn Janeway, who was to be captain of this second Voyager, was still busy teaching at the Academy. He sometimes felt an odd pang of regret walking through corridors that were so familiar, yet weren't--as if he were in a simulation which was slightly off. Whatever adventures this new ship might encounter, they would never quite match the wildest ones of its predecessor.

Tom dismissed his nostalgia as he hurried into the cargo bay. He was late picking up Miral. Not that B'Elanna would know, but after their argument this morning, he didn't want to irritate her further. As it was, if she still wouldn't talk to him tonight, at least Miral would. And once Miral was in bed, he and B'Elanna would resolve their differences. They always did.

***

Ava watched Tom Paris stepped off the main transporter platform. He was clearly preoccupied, and it was several seconds before he saw her. His brisk pace slowed for a moment, then resumed as he walked toward her.

"I thought you were going to 'Magellan's Cloud' with Gerry and Delia."

Ava couldn't tell if there was a trace of annoyance in his voice, or simply puzzlement. He kept walking and she joined him. "I told them I would stop by later. I wanted to talk to you first."

Tom's eyebrows rose. "Really? What about?"

"I thought we could go get a drink." At Tom's startled look, she added, "You seemed a little distracted today. That way you could unwind a little while we talk."

Tom's lips twitched ironically. "Thanks for your concern, Ava, but I'm just fine."

Right. He'd shown up on the bridge late this morning and she'd heard him say something to Gerry about his wife being on the warpath. He'd said it jokingly but Ava had gotten the distinct impression the humor was a cover. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. I know your wife is working late." She'd heard Tom mention that too. "I have a couple of things I wanted to...discuss, and I thought a relaxing atmosphere would be nice after our hectic day."

Tom shook his head. "I really can't. Like I said earlier, I have to get over to the Children's Center. But if this is about work, I can probably set aside some time tomorrow morning. Just remind me when I get there--"

"It's not only about work," she said as she followed him out of the transporter room. "It's also about us."

He stopped and after a moment turned to face her. "Us? What do you mean?"

She had to give him credit for a good facsimile of genuine confusion. "Us. The tension between us. Don't you think we should defuse it?"

Tom nodded at two officers who passed them, then looked at her again with a frown. "Ava, I didn't think there was any tension between us. You're doing a great job, and you're an asset to the team. If I've given you some idea that I have a problem with your work--"

"Tom." She wasn't sure if his obtuseness was deliberate. She put a hand on his arm, letting her fingers brush over his skin. "Not that kind of tension."

Tom looked down at her hand, and slowly removed his arm. "I think you're mistaken, Ava."

She narrowed her eyes. If he was going to play stupid, fine. "You don't have to deny it, Tom. I've seen you staring at me--"

Tom's expression was incredulous. "You've been watching me, since the first day you arrived!"

"I have, and I admit it," Ava said. "But you've been returning my looks." She'd caught his eyes on her several times over the past few days. She'd made sure that she was frequently in his line of vision. "You're a fascinating man, Tom, and I find you very attractive. Are you saying you don't feel the same?"

Tom shook his head, as if he couldn't believe her question. "No, I--I mean, you are an attractive woman. But if I've been staring at you, it's simply because I've been trying to figure you out. You aren't exactly an open book."

Ava smiled tremulously, playing for vulnerability. That might appeal to his chivalrous side. "I know I tend to keep my feelings to myself. There are reasons, though I don't mean to be secretive. Maybe I can help you figure me out, over drinks."

He looked at her for several moments, concern warring with wariness in his eyes. "Ava...I don't think that's a good idea. I'm sorry."

Ava suppressed her frustration. This wasn't proving to be as easy as she'd expected. "Tom--"

"Lieutenant Paris!"

An older gray-haired woman came around the corner, a toddler clinging to her hand--a little girl with dark curls and brown eyes, and faint forehead ridges. Ava recognized Tom's daughter from the holo he'd shown her soon after she'd joined the helm team.

"Daddy!" Miral Paris shrieked as she pulled away from the woman.

Tom held out his arms and scooped his daughter up before she could barrel into him. "Hey, sweetie."

"You're late!"

Tom grinned at his daughter's accusation. "Just a few minutes."

"She always knows," the gray-haired woman said, laughing. "Her internal clock is very accurate."

"I meet you, Daddy."

Tom kissed Miral's forehead. "I'm glad you did. You didn't have to come all the way here, Irina."

"Miral was anxious, and I didn't mind," Irina said. "I was on my way out anyway, and Bezin arrived early for his shift. But I hope we weren't interrupting anything important."

Tom glanced at Ava. "No. I think we were finished."

Miral followed her father's gaze, her eyes meeting Ava's. Ava smiled. "Hello, Miral. I work with your daddy."

Miral looked at her somberly for a moment without speaking. Irina's curious gaze had lighted on Ava too, and Tom made the introductions. Though his expression remained blandly congenial, she thought he hesitated a microsecond over the word 'colleague.' Maybe she had affected him a little.

"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Fererra."

Ava shook the caretaker's hand as Tom watched them. "You too, Mrs. Pavlova."

Miral pressed a small hand to her father's cheek, and turned his face toward her. "'Tention, Daddy."

Irina laughed, and Tom grinned at his daughter, who obviously wasn't going to be ignored. "You've always got my attention, sweetheart."

"We go home now."

"She talks very well for her age, doesn't she?" Irina asked Ava.

"Very well indeed," Ava replied, smiling again at the little girl. Miral glanced at her dismissively, clearly unimpressed by the compliment.

Irina made an "ooh" sound and turned to Tom. "Lieutenant Paris, I almost forgot. Your wife called as we were leaving. She missed you on Voyager and wanted you to know she'd be home around seven, with lasagna and a Ktarian merlot."

Tom looked surprised, then pleased. A wide smile broke out on his face. "Thanks for the message, Irina." He ruffled Miral's curls and she giggled. "Looks like it's lasagna for dinner, pumpkin."

"And mer-o," Miral said triumphantly.

Tom laughed. "We'll substitute grape juice for you."

"I have to be going," Irina said, bestowing a fond smile on father and daughter. "Goodnight, Lieutenant Paris. I'll see you tomorrow, Miral."

Miral reached out for a quick hug, and a moment later Irina was on her way.

Tom shifted his daughter in his arms. "We'd better get home and set the table." He looked at Ava, and hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled, a polite, cordial smile, devoid of any other significance. "I'll see you on Voyager tomorrow. Miral, say goodbye to Ava."

Miral responded with a slightly sullen "bye." She kept her arms possessively around her father's neck as he strode away, as if to say "he's mine." Her dark eyes stayed on Ava until Tom turned the corner, as if to make sure Ava didn't follow.

It was discomforting to feel rebuked by a two-year-old, but Ava did. She had enough nieces and nephews to know that young children understood a lot more than adults gave them credit for, and she couldn't blame Miral for recognizing a threat when she saw one.

What Ava didn't like was how she'd felt seeing Tom with his daughter. He clearly adored Miral. And the smile that had spread across his face--he and his wife had been at odds this morning, yet one would think her goodwill was what he lived for.

For a moment Ava actually felt guilty, as if she was the one who should be suffering recriminations and seeking atonement, which was ridiculous.

Tom Paris wasn't proving to be what she'd expected, and that unnerved her. He could lay on the charm as rumored, but it was more good-humored than slick and manipulative. He did often act on his instincts rather than strictly following protocol, but the recklessness, the disregard for consequences, and the self-serving actions--all that she'd heard and internalized about him--wasn't apparent. One could almost conclude that he wasn't the same person at all. Maybe part of her even wanted to believe it--

She frowned, angry with herself. She wasn't prepared to accept that. He could change his behavior, but he couldn't change who he really was or the grief he'd caused.

She strode down the corridor, determined again. So far he hadn't been able to ignore her, despite his protestation that his interest was innocent. She hadn't even applied serious pressure yet, and the fall from innocence was a short one, especially if she gave him a decisive push.

And if he really did love Miral and B'Elanna as much as he appeared to, all the better. It was that much more for him to lose. That Miral and B'Elanna might lose too, well, that would be Tom's doing...wouldn't it?

She pushed away that question as she stepped on the transport walkway to the civilian section. She decided she would join Gerry and Delia after all. She could use a distraction right now. Not because she had any doubts, she told herself. Certainly not because she felt isolated by her deception and concealed motives, or because she didn't want to be alone with her conscience. Gerry and Delia were simply good company. And they knew Tom much better than she did. Whatever she might learn from them, she could use to plan her next move.

Sector 001- Sol System October 15, 2380 Stardate 56794.9

Tom Paris banked the new Alpha Flyer (Class C) and initialed the test pilot log. He'd spent most of the day in the Asteroid belt, testing the shuttle's maneuverability at half and full impulse, along with its primary shields and collision warning systems. He'd logged fourteen near collisions, six more than the minimum, and a couple of them had been closer than the trial parameters necessitated. B'Elanna would be livid that he was taking chances he didn't need to--and she would be right. Putting the shuttle through a more rigorous trial offered more proof of its abilities--that's what he would tell Commodore Nadaara if she questioned his report--but he'd been motivated as much by the sheer thrill of it. The adrenaline rush of pushing the envelope left no room for thought or feeling beyond the elemental will to survive. It was as addictive as any chemical, so a Starfleet counselor had once remarked to him.

Tom sighed, and watched the rust-orange globe of Mars grow larger in front of him. He'd needed to get away for a day and stretch his legs, so to speak. A test flight on the newest Alpha Flyer model had seemed the perfect opportunity. As challenging as piloting a starship could be, it wasn't like flying a small, fast shuttle, where it was just him and the stars. Only one thing compared, and that was having B'Elanna and Miral along. The last time that had happened was two months ago when he'd convinced B'Elanna to take

three days leave she'd had coming. They'd done a quick jaunt through the Solar system, visiting his parents and Kathryn Janeway as well as Neelix and Sarexa on Earth, then the Doctor and Reg Barclay at Jupiter Station. They'd even tacked on a brief lunch with B'Elanna's father at his job site on the Titan Orbital Platform. But the most enjoyable part had been their time together in the shuttle, letting Miral pretend she was piloting, and--

The comm beeped and a voice interrupted his thoughts. "Utopia Planitia Docking Bay Three to Lieutenant Paris. We've been wondering if you were coming back."

"I took the long way around."

"Via Pluto?"

Tom laughed at Antonia Carvajal's sardonic query. "Close enough."

"Last one out, last one in..." she admonished.

"I hope my unexpected presence didn't throw the schedule off too much today."

"Oh, Tom, you know you're always welcome here. You're the Commodore's pet."

Antonia's tone was teasing, though Tom did get along surprisingly well with Commodore Nadaara. She didn't always play strictly by the book, and she allowed her pilots a measure of autonomy.

"She'd love to get you back here full time," Antonia said. "Oops, got another shuttle taking off. You're on level two, dock seven."

"ETA two point six minutes," Tom informed her quickly.

"Check and out."

The comm line clicked shut and Tom initiated his pre-landing procedures. Mars took up most of the front viewscreen now and the white structures and rings of the sprawling Utopia Planitia station were coming into view. He sped through the system checks with the perfunctory ease of long experience, his thoughts elsewhere again.

His work on Voyager II had started as a temporary part of his assignment, and though he wasn't surprised by Captain Janeway's offer, it was something that had occupied his mind the past couple of days, as it had B'Elanna's. He hadn't told Commodore Nadaara yet, though she probably knew. It seemed that everyone at TPF had heard rumors about it.

Tom shook his head with something akin to wonder. The Delta Quadrant. They hadn't been home a year and here they were considering going back again. It would be different, of course. This time it would only take a few months to get there and Voyager II would remain in regular contact with Starfleet. The crew would have a clearly defined mission. And Captain Janeway had asked B'Elanna and him to join that crew, as her Chief Engineer and Chief Helm Officer. Though the ship wasn't being designed with families in mind, she had also assured them Miral would be accommodated.

That was the only possible sticking point in his mind. Miral was happy at Utopia Planitia. She was close to her grandparents, aunts and uncles, both in the Solar system and on Qo'noS. She'd miss them even though there would be frequent calls back and forth.

On the other hand, Miral had an adventurous spirit, and she was adaptable. When she'd been conceived, there'd still been a good chance she'd grow up on a starship, as Naomi Wildman had. Naomi hadn't suffered any ill effects from the experience. In fact she'd become a mature and self-possessed young woman. Though no journey was completely without dangers, this time they knew where they were going, so safety wouldn't be as large a concern.

Then there was B'Elanna. She had enjoyed her work with Geordi La Forge, but now she was working on Voyager II full time, and after installing the transwarp and preparing the Engineering department for launch he knew how hard she would find it to watch the ship leave without her. He wasn't sure he would like watching Voyager II depart without him either.

The proximity indicator beeped, and Tom ended his silent debate as he set the helm controls for final approach. Deep down he knew the decision was already made anyway, in his heart and in B'Elanna's. And, truth be told, he knew Miral would be content wherever her parents were.

The Alpha Flyer dropped toward the landing bay, and Tom piloted through the cavernous structure, gliding over several stationary Flyers and older shuttle models before setting his ship down without a bump. He glanced at the chronometer as he shut down the engines, noting that he really had been gone quite a while. He performed the post-landing routine in record time.

Though he enjoyed trading stories with the other pilots--some of which were actually true--he was glad there was no one around as he stepped onto the deck. He wanted to change and get home. He'd barely processed that thought when someone walked around the front of the shuttle. He slowed, then stopped entirely as he saw who it was.

She was the other reason he'd decided to take a test flight out today. After he'd turned down her proposition a week ago, he'd assigned Ava to finish the work in Astrometrics with Gerry, while he and Delia had started interfacing all the necessary Helm systems with Engineering. He'd figured it would be more comfortable for both of them that way. She hadn't protested or approached him again, but he'd still felt uncomfortable, wondering if she'd fully gotten the message.

Consequently, he sounded brusquer than he intended when he asked, "What are you doing here, Lieutenant?"

Though he'd addressed her by her rank, Ava didn't return the formality. "You've been avoiding me, Tom. I figured coming here to see you would be better than your quarters."

"How did you--" Tom stopped. He didn't care how she'd found out he was landing. "If it's about work, I'll see you tomorrow--"

"It's not."

He was afraid of that. He started to push past her. "Ava, I already told you--"

"That it's not a good idea for us to get involved," Ava finished for him. "Does that matter? You don't strike me as the type who is overly concerned with propriety, Tom. Or the type to refuse a no strings offer from a woman."

Tom almost laughed at the irony of that comment. Before B'Elanna, 'no strings' had been his personal motto. He didn't think he ever had refused a woman back then. His lack of practice was obviously telling. "I'm married now."

Ava shrugged. "Just because you're married, that doesn't mean you don't have human impulses. And it's not like she has to know."

Tom frowned. "That's not the point. I love my wife, and I have no intention of cheating on her."

"Come on, Tom. You don't have to pretend with me. Casual dalliances have always been your thing, haven't they?"

Tom's eyes narrowed. "Times have changed. I've changed."

Ava laughed, the sound more derisive than amused. "Oh, come on. People don't really change, do they?" She trailed a finger over his collarbone where the V collar of his flightsuit exposed his skin. "You can't tell me you aren't attracted..." Her hand dipped lower, "...that your feelings aren't churning..."

They were churning all right. He was starting to understand. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her hand away. "Is that what this is all about? You read about me--about my past, and for some reason you find it compelling? It's all true, you know. I've slept with hundreds of women, literally. I don't remember most of their names--hell, I didn't even know some of their names. I was usually too drunk to notice or care. Do you actually find that attractive?"

She flinched at the harshness in his tone and tugged at her arm. Tom took the hint and released her wrist. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. But you have the wrong idea about me. I'm not that person anymore, however much you may want me to be." And for whatever reason he certainly couldn't fathom.

"Aren't you?" she asked softly.

He was bewildered by her persistence. A triumphant expression crossed her face, right before she threw her arms around him. He was caught unprepared and his back hit the side panel of the shuttle as her lips locked over his.

It took him a couple of seconds to recover from his astonishment, and several more to forcibly push her off him. She stared at him, her eyes wide and her lips looking...kissed.

"What the..." Tom's voice trailed off, his ire replaced by confusion as someone appeared in his peripheral vision.

Ava backed up a step, then rubbed her arms where he'd gripped her to push her away. "Oops. I guess we won't be seeing each other anymore, Tom."

Tom was barely aware of Ava's contradictory words as she strode away with a half-smile on her face, giving B'Elanna a wide berth. He remained speechless as his wife walked forward and stopped in front of him. Finally he found his voice, even though it was raspy. "B'Elanna..."

"So that's Ava," B'Elanna said conversationally. "She's very beautiful."

Tom had mentioned Ava a few times as part of his team, but it occurred to him now that B'Elanna and Ava had never actually met. He shrugged away B'Elanna's observation, more intent on her reaction. "B'Elanna, that wasn't what it looked like..."

"Of course not," B'Elanna said, with no inflection.

"You don't really think I would--"

"What should I think, Tom?" B'Elanna asked, her tone perfectly reasonable.

"Just don't jump to conclusions," Tom said, sure he was digging an even bigger hole. No matter how reasonable B'Elanna sounded, her arms were tightly crossed. That was never a good sign. "I didn't kiss her."

"No? So what was that? Wait, don't tell me. She attacked you, overpowered you, and then kissed you against your will."

"Yes!" Tom said frantically. "I mean, she surprised me. I didn't kiss her back. I pushed her away--"

"I believe you, Tom."

"I swear--" Tom stopped, flustered. "You do?"

B'Elanna nodded, and her arms fell to her sides. "Yes. You mentioned a few weeks ago that you couldn't quite figure her out. She's obviously up to something. Besides, why she would be attracted to you?"

"Exactly--hey, wait a minute! Why wouldn't she be attracted to me?" Tom shook his head immediately at B'Elanna's raised eyebrows. He definitely shouldn't push it while he was ahead. He hoped. "Never mind. The fact is, she made a pass at me a few days ago." Something he realized now he should have told B'Elanna at the time. "I didn't mention it because I told her I wasn't interested. And I'm not!"

B'Elanna stared at him for several unnerving moments, her expression unreadable. He was about to speak again, prostrate himself--anything--when she said, "It's strange that she showed up here after I called Astrometrics to tell Gerry Culhane I was going to meet you here."

"How did you know--"

"Lieutenant Carvajal gave me your approximate ETA. The point is, if she set this up for some reason, then you have to ask yourself, why is she trying to ruin our marriage?"

That was a good question, and it wasn't an angle Tom had thought of before. Had Ava been trying to find a way to hurt him? Or to hurt B'Elanna? He shook his head. He didn't know, but he was going to find out.

"Think about it. And after you change out of your flightsuit, can you pick up Miral?"

Tom frowned. That was it? B'Elanna was moving on to more mundane matters that quickly? "Sure, but why don't we go together?"

"I just remembered...I have to stop by the Transwarp Lab and pick up some PADDs I left there. I'll meet you at home."

"Fine." It wasn't like B'Elanna to forget things, but Tom was feeling a little light-headed from the range of emotions he'd experienced in the past few minutes, so he didn't question it. As long they were okay.

"B'Elanna...we're fine, aren't we?"

B'Elanna smiled. "Of course."

She started to walk away, and for a moment Tom felt thoroughly baffled. Hell, he even felt a little bereft. It wasn't like B'Elanna to take something like this so easily. He'd never given her any reason to doubt him, but still--

His eyes widened as B'Elanna whirled around suddenly and strode back to him. "Oh, and one more thing."

Before he could reply, she slammed him against the side of the Flyer, grabbed his hair with fisted hands and kissed him, hard and completely. After a few dozen seconds she released him.

"There. That should erase anything but my taste and scent," B'Elanna said with satisfaction. "Don't you forget it, Flyboy."

Tom grinned. That was better. "Never."

His grin faded as B'Elanna strode out of sight. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Getting manhandled by two women within a few minutes wasn't something he was used to. Usually it was just the one.

"Tom!"

Tom groaned inwardly. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now, but he turned around and faced Lieutenant Commander Misha Rachenko. The man was a good pilot, but once he started talking he didn't stop.

"Hey, I'm giving the ten credit tour to a couple of new recruits, and I saw the Class C Alpha Flyer here. I figured you were already in the pilot's lounge, but since you're here, I might as well introduce you."

A Vulcan woman and a Human man, both in lieutenant's uniforms, approached behind Rachenko. "This is Lieutenant Tom Paris, one of our best pilots," Rachenko said. "Though we're not supposed to know, rumor has it he may be leaving soon to take a ship assignment. Tom, this is Lieutenant T'Sari, and Lieutenant Rick Vanderford."

Tom returned Lieutenant T'Sari's nod absently. His attention was on Rick, and he couldn't help thinking that he must have done something to deserve the torture suddenly being heaped on him. Or maybe it was like that black and white TV show he and B'Elanna had watched a few times. Instead of flying back to the real Utopia Planitia, he'd entered the Twilight Zone.

"Tom and I already know each other," Rick said. His lips curved into a tightly polite smile, though Tom couldn't discern any real warmth in it.

"Ah," Rachenko acknowledged. "Mind if we take a look inside the Alpha Flyer, Tom?"

Tom shook his head, and Rachenko stepped immediately into the shuttle, T'Sari right behind him. Rick lingered, and Tom was at a loss for words. He hadn't seen Rick since that fateful meeting right after Voyager had returned from the Delta Quadrant. His old Academy classmate had seemed bemused at the time to see Tom in a Starfleet uniform. Rick had commented on Tom's status as one of Voyager's lauded crew, as if he couldn't quite believe Tom had made the transformation from dishonorable discharge to returning 'hero.' The meeting had been uncomfortable at best.

"So, you left Starfleet Headquarters," Tom finally managed. That sounded better than saying he'd left the Quartermaster's office, where he'd taken a desk job after being traumatized during the Dominion War.

Rick looked at Tom silently for a moment, probably trying to figure out how much Tom knew of his history. "Yes. I decided it was about time I started flying again."

"That's great," Tom said, then slapped himself mentally for sounding so lame. "I've heard you're a good pilot."

Rick's mouth quirked. "Funny, I've heard the same about you. I had some...problems, but they're in the past now. I'm ready to move on." He stared at Tom for several seconds, his gaze disconcertingly intent, as if he was studying a bug under a microscope. When he spoke his tone was thoughtful. "I guess people do change, after all."

"Yes," Tom said softly. "They do."

Rick nodded. "Guess I'll see you around. Or not." He stepped into the Flyer.

"Probably not," Tom said, knowing where he was headed. "Rick...good luck."

Rick turned at the door. His smile was wry but genuine this time. "You too, Tom."

Tom watched him disappear through the doorway, feeling bemused. After the last time he'd seen Rick, he'd felt even more certain that avoiding everyone from his past was the right thing to do. The past might be over, but it wasn't forgotten. It always seemed to linger, like a shadow between him and everyone he'd once known.

So he'd thought. Maybe he'd been wrong and B'Elanna had been right when she'd said Rick and a lot of others would take heart from his redemption, rather than scorning him.

Tom smiled. He shouldn't be surprised that his wife was a very perceptive woman. Though that still didn't solve the puzzle of Ava Ferrera's actions, or explain her motives, he thought as he walked toward the pilot's lounge. Halfway there he stopped in mid-stride as a new realization hit him.

Maybe it did.

***

Ava took a sip of her Scotch. She didn't drink often, but she'd wanted something to wet her dry throat. And someplace to hide. Where better than this bar tucked away in one of the deeper corners of Utopia Planitia? Too bad she couldn't hide from herself.

She should feel happy. She'd left Tom to explain to his wife, if he could. She might have ended his marriage. After all this time, Tom Paris would pay for what he'd done. If his wife and daughter left him, then he'd know what losing someone you loved felt like.

She should feel vindicated--so why did she just feel empty, and sullied? She had an inexplicable urge to take it all back, erase the past few weeks, and leave him alone. Revenge wasn't giving her the satisfaction she'd expected.

Her father had told her it wouldn't. She chuckled humorlessly and took a second, larger sip of her drink. She'd scorned his assertion that her brother's death had been an accident--innocent pilot error even if compounded by lies, lies that Tom Paris would have to live with all his life. According to her father that was more than enough punishment.

Ava had thought her father was wrong. Her other brothers and sisters had long ago come to terms with their brother's death, but she'd lived her life on the premise that the scale wasn't balanced. Now she wondered if her father had been right all along. Worse, she wondered if Tom Paris really wasn't the person she'd thought he was--the person she'd expected him to remain forever, so her actions would be justified.

She raised her glass again, but it didn't reach her lips. Instead a hand pulled it from her grasp, then set it down hard on the bar. Scotch sloshed over the sides of the glass, and Ava looked up into the dark, flinty eyes of B'Elanna Torres.

"Shut up," B'Elanna said as Ava started to open her mouth. "I'll do the talking." She leaned in closer, her eyes glittering, and Ava involuntarily pressed further back into her chair. "I don't know what you have against Tom, and I don't really care. I'm just here to give you a warning, and it's the only one you're going to get, so listen well. If you touch my husband again, in any way, I'll rip every organ in your body out with my bare hands and stuff them all in a shredder. A team of Starfleet micro-surgeons won't be able to put you back together again. Are we clear?"

Ava started to respond but nothing came out of her mouth. Apparently B'Elanna Torres took her silence as agreement, because she turned and stalked out of the bar, several gazes following her departure. The moment she was gone those gazes turned to Ava. Though B'Elanna hadn't shouted, she hadn't whispered either, and most of the patrons had undoubtedly heard everything she'd said.

Ava turned back to the bar, ignoring the curious eyes. The bartender wiped away the spilled scotch, then picked up her glass and refilled it. She looked up, expecting a censorious or pitying look, but his quick glance at her was indifferent, as if he'd seen it all many times before.

She picked up her glass, this time with both hands that were shaking slightly. She wasn't sure whether B'Elanna had been serious, though she was half-Klingon, and the scorn in her eyes had been genuine. But she did know that B'Elanna didn't have to worry. Whatever she'd hoped to accomplish--and what it was now eluded her--she was done. And she was out of here. Tomorrow.

Crew Quarters, Utopia Planitia October 16, 2380 Stardate 56797.6

Lieutenant Avalon Fererra, recently assigned to the Voyager II construction project, now on two week's personal leave before rejoining the USS Churchill to resume her regular shipboard assignment, closed her duffel. She glanced around her quarters to make sure she hadn't left anything behind. There wasn't much to check since she'd acquired nothing here and had only a few personal belongings. The small room looked little different now than it had while she'd occupied it. Though her shuttle to Starfleet Headquarters didn't leave for two more hours, she didn't want to remain here any longer than necessary.

Even after a sleepless night, the only feeling she was sure of was frustration. She'd accomplished nothing she'd set out to do, but at least now she wouldn't have to look in the mirror and wonder who she was becoming. Whatever price remained for Tom Paris to pay, someone else would have to extract it. Even if she was leaving with her business unfinished, at least she was leaving with an almost clear conscience.

She'd just hoisted her duffel over her shoulder when the door announcer beeped. She wasn't expecting anyone, and she hoped it wasn't Gerry or Delia. She'd requested immediate leave and reassignment to avoid the need to go back to Voyager II. It had seemed the best way. Beyond "It was nice working with you," what could she say about her abrupt departure?

The door announcer beeped again, and her hope of whoever it was giving up if she remained silent was dashed. The station's locator system would have notified anyone looking for her that she was here. She walked to the door and pressed the manual door release.

"About time," Tom Paris said as he walked in.

She was speechless as he stopped a couple of meters into her quarters and glanced around at the impersonal decor. She'd assumed he would be on Voyager II, feeling nothing but relief that he'd never have to see her again. The last thing she'd expected was for him to show up here.

"Looks like you're about to leave," Tom said as he turned to face her.

His gaze was watchful and Ava felt a shiver of uneasiness. "You should have received word of my resignation this morning. I have some personal matters to attend to, and after yesterday I assumed you'd be happy to see the last of me." She'd also been convinced that his lack of response to her overtures was genuine, but apprehension made her blurt out sharply, "If you've come to belatedly accept my offer, it's rescinded."

Tom smiled without amusement. "I haven't. But we do need to talk, don't you think, Ava? Or should I call you Avi?"

Ava stiffened. Only her family had ever called her by that nickname. If that wasn't enough, she could tell from his shrewd expression that he knew.

"I would never have guessed," Tom said. "You don't look anything like Bruno. You must take after your mother."

Obviously he'd read her service record, and it occurred to Ava for a moment to wonder why he hadn't before. Maybe because he felt threatened after yesterday. "Congratulations," she said, "you're a brilliant investigator. Now you know. Case closed. If you'll excuse me--"

"Your brother used to talk about you," Tom said, without moving. His voice sounded distant to her, even though he was standing less than a meter away. "Bruno talked about his whole family, but he seemed to have a special affection for you. He'd say you were twelve going on thirty, and that you could almost outfly him already. He admired your grit and natural ability."

Ava felt tears prick her eyelids. She focused on her indignation to push them back. Who was he to tell her how her brother had felt? "Did he say that to you the day you killed him?"

Tom didn't flinch or blanch at her spiteful words, but she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. "No, he didn't. But he said it enough."

"He never said it to--" Ava stopped. That wasn't his business either.

"Brothers don't usually tell their sisters how they really feel," Tom said, as if he knew from experience. "It's a lot more comfortable to harass each other. But your brother loved you. You can take my word for it."

"I should take your word for anything?" Ava asked snidely.

"You can now," Tom said softly. He looked at her, his expression somber. "Ava, I know you why you're here. You want to punish me for what happened at Caldik Prime, and I don't blame you."

Ava snorted. "How noble of you. I wanted to make us even. I wanted you to know what it felt like to lose something, like I did. All those years ago, all you got was a dishonorable discharge for killing my brother."

Tom's crooked smile held irony. "If it makes you feel any better, I punished myself plenty. I'm still not sure how I lived through it. For a long time I did just about every stupid thing I could think of to bring about my demise."

"I hoped you were dead. When Voyager was lost, I figured it was a fitting end." She had, but now she realized even that hadn't completely quelled her bitterness.

"Then Voyager resurfaced, and here I am a Starfleet officer again. Obviously that doesn't sit well with you, which I can understand."

She didn't want his understanding, damn him. "How would you expect me to feel, seeing you get everything you must have ever wanted, having a wife and a child, being lauded as a hero, while my brother never got a chance to do any of those things?"

Tom was silent for several moments, his expression pained. Finally he said, "I'd expect you to hate me."

And she had. So much. At least she thought she had. Ava's hands clenched around her duffel. She realized she was holding it like a shield, but she didn't put it down.

"There's not much point in me saying I wish it had never happened," Tom said when she remained silent. "I wished it a million times, and it never made a difference, just like it doesn't now. I can't change anything. All I can say is that I'm sorry. I always have been, even when I was too afraid to admit my error."

"Afraid?" Ava asked harshly. "That you'd lose your chance at promotion, or be thrown out of Starfleet, or that your father the Admiral would be angry?"

"Yes," Tom admitted. "And I was afraid to face the fact that it was my bad decision that...killed them. I wanted to hide from it, to pretend at any cost that it hadn't happened. So I denied it to everybody, but mostly to myself." His lips twisted and he shook his head. "It didn't work."

Something haunted flashed briefly in Tom's eyes, and Ava wished she hadn't seen it. She didn't want to think about his pain at causing those deaths. She smiled bitterly, recalling again her father's opinion that living with that knowledge was punishment enough. "After Bruno died my mother was inconsolable. She said he was little more than a boy, and he'd barely started his life. She was as angry as I was when we heard about your belated confession. My father was too at first, but he told my mother that you were also little more than a boy, young enough to make a terrible mistake and handle it badly. Even though I thought he should, he wouldn't condemn you for what you did."

"Your father was far more generous than I deserved," Tom said. "My youth wasn't an excuse."

"No, it wasn't," Ava agreed. They stared at each other for several long seconds. He didn't avoid her gaze, or offer any further defense.

Ava felt the anger inside her dissipate a little, and she took a ragged breath. "The truth is, I don't know what to think anymore. You aren't the same person you were then, and I guess that much I can accept. My father has always said I should forgive you in my heart. He's probably right. But I don't know if I can ever forget what you did."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Tom said. "But I still owe you an apology. I know it's very late, and I know it's far from enough, but it's all I have. I'm truly sorry, Ava. There's not a day of my life that I don't regret my actions, or that I don't think of Bruno and the others and remember how lucky I was to know them.""

Ava heard the sincerity in his voice, which shook just a little. There was no pleading in his steady gaze. He was offering her a heartfelt apology, whether she elected to take it or not. She made an instantaneous decision, one she wouldn't have thought she was capable of even a day ago. "I accept your apology."

Tom took a deep breath. "Thank you."

Ava realized she owed him an apology too. "I'm sorry for the past few weeks. For what I tried to do--"

"It doesn't matter," Tom said, cutting her off. "It's forgotten." After a moment he cleared his throat. "You're a fine pilot, Ava. You've been an asset on Voyager II. My exit evaluation will reflect that fact."

Ava nodded, understanding his meaning. Tom Paris would give her a good review, based on the quality of her work, and uninfluenced by everything else that had passed between them. "Thank you."

They looked at each other silently again, as if neither of them was sure how to end the conversation. Despite the cleared air between them, or because of it, they were both at a loss for words. Finally Ava said, "I'm not rushing you--well, I guess I am, but I was just on my way out."

Tom smiled, with the first trace of his trademark good humor since he'd walked through her door. It was surprisingly nice to see. "Good luck, Ava," he said as he walked past her. He stopped at the door and looked back. "In case you doubt it, your brother would be proud of you."

Without another word he slipped out the door. Ava stared after him, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her chest. The grief might never completely go away, and she'd always miss her big brother. But the darkness that had lodged in one corner of her heart for so long--the bitterness she'd held onto against all reason, instead of letting it fade naturally--that was gone.

She'd never doubted her brother loved her. Despite his teasing, he'd been supportive and protective. But she'd never known he'd talked about her, or thought so highly of her abilities. She was absurdly grateful to have made that discovery about him. It was ironic that she'd come here to take something from Tom Paris, and he'd given her something instead.

Tom had also said her brother would be proud of her. Ava wasn't so sure. That she'd followed in his footsteps to become a pilot, yes. But the way she'd refused to let go of his loss, probably not. Her brother had been the type who never held a grudge, and he would have forgiven Tom without hesitation. She'd always known that, but until now she'd refused to see it, or how her lack of forgiveness had tarnished his memory.

Maybe that was what she'd really come here to find, even though she hadn't known she was searching for it. Not revenge but forgiveness--for Tom, and from her brother.

Ava slung her duffel over her shoulder. She'd come here obsessed with Tom Paris's life, but she was leaving free of that obsession. It felt good. Whatever Tom's future held--and it was probably only good--he'd worked hard to get there while reconciling his past. It was time she did the same.

She walked out the door without a backward glance. Instead of spending two weeks in San Francisco waiting for the Churchill to arrive, she decided she would go home. It had been too long since she'd been there. She could visit her family, and have a long talk with her father. Then she would start over once again--wasn't life only a series of new beginnings anyway?--and make her brother truly proud of her.

Crew Quarters, Utopia Planitia November 4, 2380 Stardate 56850.1

"'Night, Daddy."

Miral held her arms out to him, and Tom took her in a tight hug. She was in her pajamas, freshly bathed, and her hair smelled like her favorite jasmine shampoo. He buried his face in her scent and softness, overwhelmed for a moment by the sense of love and gratitude that occasionally hit him unexpectedly, until she started to squirm.

"Love you, Daddy," Miral said as B'Elanna took her.

"Love you too, angel," Tom replied.

B'Elanna smiled at him before she took Miral down the hall to bed. Tom watched them disappear into Miral's room and walked to the window. Their quarters were situated in the officer's section, along the outer rim of the main station. From here he could see the vista of the station's shipyards, including the enormous sphere of the enclosed shipyard, and part of the docking ring with its spokes strutting out from the sphere, where some of the ships in the latest stages of construction were tethered. Voyager II had recently been moved there again, and was just visible, looking like a tiny, graceful ornament hanging against the star-studded black backdrop of space.

The Paris-Torres family would be onboard Voyager II when she departed for the Delta Quadrant in another two months. They'd made that decision over dinner tonight. Miral had been included in that unanimous decision, though her "yea" had been influenced more by his description of flying among the distant stars, and the promise of frequent calls home to her grandparents, than by any comprehensive understanding of the how it would affect her life.

Tom felt a jolt of anticipation at the thought of piloting a brand new starship, especially a new Voyager. There would be a lot to do before they left: picking and choosing what to take, packing and rearranging, and tying up all the loose ends of their lives here. That wouldn't happen for a while yet, but in the meantime he had some loose ends of his own to tie up, loose ends that had waited eighteen years already--

"She's down," B'Elanna said as she walked into the living room. "She can't wait to fly 'in the stars' with you."

Tom smiled as B'Elanna joined him. "She also asked when is 'Kissmas' and 'Pixin,'" B'Elanna added, mimicking her daughter. "It's a little early to get her excited about that."

Tom shrugged at B'Elanna's admonishing look. "I read Dr. Suess's 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas' to her last night. That probably piqued her interest."

"And I suppose Neelix brought up Prixin when he called the other day," B'Elanna said. "I don't know if it's a good thing having her birthday, Christmas, and Prixin all fall within a few weeks of each other. She seems to think it's a month invented especially for her, and she's getting spoiled enough as it is."

Tom smiled. "She's a little kid. Let her get spoiled."

B'Elanna's eyebrows rose. "I'll get back to you on the wisdom of that notion once she's a teenager. So..." she moved slightly behind him and wrapped her arms around his back. "What's on your mind, Flyboy?"

Tom glanced over his shoulder at her. She was giving him that "I know you've been brooding about something" look. He sighed quietly. "Just thinking about decisions."

"We made the right one about Voyager," B'Elanna said, referring to the ship without the "two" tacked on, as most were starting to do now. "But it's something else, isn't it? She left the station days ago, you know."

"It's not about her directly," Tom said. His lips quirked. "You weren't really jealous, were you?"

B'Elanna smirked. "You wish. And that's not an answer to my question."

Tom had told B'Elanna about his confrontation with Ava, and all that had transpired between them. Though it had stirred up painful memories, he'd assured her the meeting had ended up being a positive thing. That experience and the encounter with Rick had given him a sense of partial resolution. Even if he could never erase his past, maybe he and everyone else who'd been within its sphere of influence truly could go forward and coexist despite it.

"Tom, you have to put it completely to rest sometime," B'Elanna said. She laid her cheek against his back. "You have a right to move on."

"So does everyone else," Tom said. "B'Elanna, I have to do something I should have done a long time ago."

B'Elanna pulled away from him and gripped his arm, prompting him to turn and face her. "You're not going to Caldik Prime."

Tom wasn't sure if it was a question or a command. He saw the apprehension in B'Elanna's eyes. She was probably worried he intended to immerse himself in the place where his life had once fallen apart, and would relapse into a quagmire of guilt and self-pity. He shook his head. "I don't need to go back there, B'Elanna. Caldik Prime is etched permanently in my mind. I've seen it often enough without actually being there."

B'Elanna had witnessed a few of his bad dreams, though they'd come far more infrequently in recent years. She looked stricken. "Tom, I didn't mean--"

"It's okay," Tom interrupted her. "I have no intention of ever going back there. It wouldn't serve any purpose. But there is one thing I should have done and never did."

"What?" B'Elanna asked.

"Apologize," Tom said. His meeting with Ava had brought about that realization. He might have offered a general apology during his official confession, though he'd been in such a fugue state he couldn't actually remember. But Ava had been the first person to whom he'd offered a personal apology.

"Did I even tell you Odile's parents were at my Starfleet hearing?" Tom asked, though he knew he hadn't. "Her father told me he never wanted to see my face again. I figured everyone else involved would feel the same, so approaching them, even with an apology, would just make their pain worse. Nice of me to spare their feelings, wasn't it?" He smiled self-deprecatingly, but B'Elanna's gaze on him remained steady. "At least that's what I told myself. Of course, it let me off the hook too. And back then I was too absorbed in self-pity to really worry about anyone else."

"So you want to go see the families now and offer them an apology?" B'Elanna asked gently.

Tom shook his head. "No. It is true that some of them probably don't want to see me, even after all this time. I'll send letters." He took a deep breath. "It's been so long--too long--but I owe this to them."

B'Elanna nodded. "I agree. And you owe it to yourself." She laced her fingers in his. "Even if they don't respond, or don't want to accept your apology, that doesn't matter. It doesn't change your intention."

Tom knew B'Elanna was trying to warn him, and she was right. He didn't expect to hear anything back. He wasn't doing this get absolution from anyone, or to set things right. Nothing could do that. But he had to offer what little he had toward that debt, even if it would never be paid. "I'll work on it tomorrow."

"If you want me to be here, I can change my schedule..."

"This is something I have to do on my own," Tom said. "But thanks for offering." He squeezed her hands. "Just knowing you support me means a lot."

"You can send Miral to the Children's Center, so she isn't underfoot."

Tom shook his head. "She'll be fine here." And she'd remind him of the best things he'd achieved in his life while he was acknowledging the worst.

B'Elanna let out a small, frustrated sigh. "Okay. But I'll expect you and Miral to meet me for lunch."

Tom figured he'd need the break. Though he knew B'Elanna was motivated out of concern, he didn't resent the fact, especially since she was willing to take a break from her increasingly busy schedule on Voyager to check up on him. "The arboretum?"

"How about the mess hall on Voyager," B'Elanna suggested. "We can try out the new replicators."

"Have they been recalibrated again?" Tom asked. Last he'd heard the replicators were still a little bit...off, to put it kindly.

"According to Lieutenant Percy, the hot plain tomato soup is red now instead of chartreuse."

Tom laughed. "Great. I wonder if it tastes remotely like tomato soup. Or if there are any tables and chairs in the mess hall yet. But it's a deal. Miral can start getting a feel for the ship."

B'Elanna looked past him out the window, her gaze locking on Voyager II. After a moment turned her gaze back to him. "Tom, are you sure?"

"I'd have been outvoted anyway."

"Hey, you're the one who got Miral all excited about it!" B'Elanna protested.

"And there's your answer," Tom said. He smiled at his wife, who relaxed and smiled back. "So, do you think Miral is really asleep?"

"She was pretty worn out," B'Elanna said.

"I guess that means some quality personal time for Mommy and Daddy," Tom said, pulling her toward him.

B'Elanna grinned. "I guess it does, but I have to take a shower first. I spent all day up to my elbows in plasma conduits."

Tom sniffed her hair. "Smells okay to me, but we can take a shower."

"We?" B'Elanna asked archly. "Hmm. I suppose I could use your help with all those hard-to-reach places."

Tom's smile was smug. "I knew there was a reason you couldn't live without me."

B'Elanna laughed as moved away from the window. "Tom, you're the one who can't live without me."

That was true. And as they walked down the hallway, he was grateful all over again for his life, every day of it--even tomorrow.

Voyager II, Utopia Planitia November 15, 2380 Stardate 56880.4

Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres bit her lip and tried not to say anything in Klingon or Standard that could be deemed offensive. If the guilty party had been a civilian, one of the outside contractors which Starfleet--for reasons unknown--had engaged to help with the non-technical aspects of the ship's construction, she wouldn't have been so careful. But standing in front of her on the uncarpeted floor was a very young-looking Ensign who should have known better. After counting to ten twice and fifty once, she managed to speak. "The carpets were supposed to be laid by yesterday."

Ensign Remp blanched. If it was possible for a Bolian to become any paler, B'Elanna thought idly, she might have to start performing CPR. "Yes, ma'am. They were. But the carpetlayers are, uh, missing."

"Missing?"

"We haven't seen them for the past three days." Ensign Remp glanced at the PADD he gripped tightly in his right hand.

"And no one asked where they were?"

"No, ma'am." B'Elanna closed her eyes and started to count again. Remp continued, "Commander Xiang said--"

B'Elanna's control cracked as soon as she heard that name. Since she had been spending more and more time on Voyager II, she had had several encounters with the Commander, who was nominally overseeing the later stages of the ship's construction. Each time their paths crossed, her estimation of Xiang and his abilities sank even lower. "Let me make something perfectly clear, Ensign. I don't give a damn about anything Commander Xiang said. This ship is scheduled for completion in six weeks. And now I find the carpets aren't in, the furniture hasn't arrived yet...Is there something--anything--else I should also know about?"

The Ensign's panicked expression made her fear the worse. "What," she growled.

Remp cringed even more. "The engines, ma'am..."

B'Elanna didn't wait to hear anymore. As she stormed down the hall, the thud of her boots on the metal floor echoed loudly. The few workers she passed got out of her way very quickly.

***

Newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Joe Carey glanced at Tom Paris before turning his attention back to the young officer standing next to the open wall panel. "Well, maybe you should be concerned that the engines are off-line once more," Joe said. "This is what, the third time in the last twelve hours?"

Ensign Jose Christensen merely shrugged.

"Let me rephrase that," Tom said. "Lieutenant Commander Torres has heard there is a problem with the engines. She'll be down here any minute."

"With all due respect, I don't report to Lieutenant Commander Torres, sir," Christensen said, "but to Commander Xiang."

Tom shook his head in disbelief. "You should still be concerned with staying on her good side, Ensign. She's half Klingon, for one thing. For another, she is Voyager's Chief Engineer--or will be whenever this ship finally is commissioned."

"And until then," Christensen said stubbornly, "Commander Xiang is in charge of the engines, as part of the overall construction and installation procedures. I don't do anything without his say-so."

Joe rubbed his nose casually. "I'd be careful about pushing my weight around, if I were you--Torres has quite a temper. Poor Ensign Kim..."

Tom fought to keep a straight face. "Oh, yes--the bat'leth incident. Poor Harry indeed--all he'd been trying to do was realign the warp core matrix. Fortunately Doctor Zimmerman is a brilliant reconstructive surgeon. You'd never know that she'd--well, no need to go into all the gory details."

"And don't forget about my nose," added Joe. "It was down to the two of us in the fight for Chief Engineer. I've always been grateful that Captain Janeway insisted that it would be fisticuffs. I don't think my wife would have been happy if Torres had--"

Christensen's jaw dropped slightly . "I read that she had a bit of a temper--but you're kidding, right?"

"Not unless you feel a broken nose is something to make light of, Ensign," Joe said sternly. Christensen gulped.

"I should know," Tom said as he rubbed his elbow. "I married her. Trust me, Ensign, if you want to stay healthy--I mean, if you want to ensure that this project is a success--always inform her immediately at the slightest *hint* of a problem."

At that moment the turbolift opened.

"Lieutenant Commander Torres, ma'am!" Christensen snapped to attention. "I'm in the process of preparing a complete report for you. If you would come with me, ma'am."

"Uh, thank you. I'll be right there, Ensign," B'Elanna said. She turned to Tom and mouthed, "Who the hell is this?"

Tom chuckled at her puzzled look. "I'll explain everything over lunch," he whispered as he leaned over and kissed her quickly. "But right now, well, just be sure you mention bat'leth's a couple of times."

B'Elanna looked at Tom, then over at Joe Carey, then back to Christensen. "Whatever. Well, let me go find out what those idiots have done now."

Joe laughed as B'Elanna moved off, a very nervous Christensen trotting at her heels. "We were terrible."

"Yes, we were," Tom said with a wicked grin. "But we're doing him a big favor in the long run. Good job, by the way. I never knew you were such a talented actor!"

"I have many hidden talents, Tom," Joe said smugly.

"I'm sure you do," Tom answered. He watched as Joe retrieved a PADD and began entering data into a nearby console. "And we'll be missing those talents of yours before too long. Are you sure you won't change your mind and come along on the mission? Just think, a return to the Delta Quadrant, this time for just a year--it should be fun."

Joe smiled. "I don't doubt it. Part of me would like to come, but I have Annie and the boys to think of."

"And a bun in the oven. I understand." Tom said. Suddenly, he grinned. "You do realize this means B'Elanna will have to break in a new deputy engineer--'break' being the operative word."

Joe refused to make a joke out of it. "Sorry, but I'm staying put. Maybe when transwarp is more widespread and Starfleet establishes regular flights to the Delta Quadrant, I'll come. I *am* rather curious to know what has happened since we passed through that region of space. But until that future date, I'll continue my work here."

"I don't blame you." Tom glanced at his chronometer and frowned. "I wonder how long B'Elanna's going to be--it's not like the engines are the only things that have gone wrong today. What do you think the odds are that I'm going to end up eating by myself?"

"Pretty good, especially if we don't find out what happened to the carpetlayers," Joe said, continuing to work.

"They went on a three day binge in some local dive, I heard," Tom said with a shrug. "It would probably be faster for us to lay the stuff ourselves."

"Who do you mean by 'us'?" Joe said. "I'm scheduled to have a meeting with Commander Xiang in an hour. That is, if B'Elanna's finished with him by then."

***

Commander Xiang hit his comm badge a little harder than was necessary. "Xiang to Ensign Singer. Have you located the employees from Thor Carpetlayers yet?"

:::Aye, Commander,::: Singer responded. Xiang's relieved smile quickly faded at the next words. :::They were discovered at Marchelina's Pub. They won't be laying any carpet today, Commander, that's for sure, and probably not tomorrow either.:::

Xiang swore loudly. "Where are they now?"

:::Station Security has them in temporary custody right now, on a 'drunk and disorderly' charge, but will be sending them over to the infirmary soon.:::

"Belay that, Ensign--I want them thrown in the brig until they sober up."

:::Wouldn't it be better, sir, to just send them to the infirmary for detox hypos?:::

"Damn it, they deserve to suffer! You tell Security to keep those men in custody until further notice." Xiang signed off in a huff.

His combadge chirped. "Xiang here."

:::Ensign Remp, sir. Sir, Commander Torres is here with me now, sir and she's not very happy. I'm afraid, sir, she heard about the engines--:::

Xiang groaned, past caring if anyone could hear him or not. Not that Klingon battle-ax again! The Commander closed his eyes and wondered if his day--or month--could possibly get any worse.

Voyager II, Utopia Planitia November 17, 2380 Stardate 56886.0

"So, what do you think, Kathryn?" Hayes asked as they left the transporter room and began their official tour of inspection.

Janeway stepped carefully over a roll of standard Starfleet gray carpeting that partially blocked the corridor of section B on deck 6. She stopped in front of an open circuit panel.

"I think there's a lot of work to be done here, Admiral," she replied, and leaned forward to examine the intricate wiring inside the box. "Look at this--someone's forgotten to connect the bio-neural relay coupler to the conversion socket."

Admiral Hayes smiled as he watched her reach into the unit and attend to the matter herself. "She's definitely your ship, Captain," Hayes said.

She returned his grin over her shoulder, and then snapped the panel door shut. "That she is, Admiral. Or at least she will be by the time she's finished. From the inside out."

Once again Janeway stepped over the carpet to return to his side. She had been looking forward to this day -- her first inspection of Voyager II - ever since she'd accepted her command. She'd pored over the blueprints for weeks, and was familiar with every aspect of the plans. She'd bombarded the designers with questions, suggestions and critiques almost daily, and Chakotay had commented more than once that the crew at Utopia Planitia was going to be positively ecstatic when Voyager II finally left for the Delta Quadrant.

"So will I, Chakotay, so will I," she'd replied one night after a particularly frustrating day dealing with the 'idiots in the bureaucracy', as she habitually referred to them.

"Don't forget it's going to be different this time, Kathryn," he'd reminded her. "We're not going to be alone out there, with no-one to answer to except ourselves. The bureaucracy is coming with us."

She sighed. "I know that, Chakotay. But still, I'm hopeful we'll be away from the worst of it."

He'd grinned. "I'm not so sure. I think I'd better suggest to B'Elanna that she install a double check command code on all the air-locks, just in case you're tempted to space someone who asks you for a form in triplicate while you're in the middle of a battle with some friendly Delta Quadrant natives."

"No battles this time, Chakotay," she reminded him. "Just re-establishing ties with the '37's planet', and maybe some exploration on the side, right?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he asked and dodged the elbow aimed at his ribcage. He peered over her shoulder at the specs she had spread out over her desk. "She looks great Kathryn, just great."

And she did look great, Janeway thought, as she and the Admiral continued their walk down the corridor of the newly constructed ship.

She had chosen to conduct this first tour during gamma shift, explaining to Admiral Hayes that she'd be able to get a better 'feel' for the ship without the distracting bustle of any construction workers nearby. He had concurred, and now, as she looked around her, she was glad she'd done it this way.

Voyager II was well on its way to completion--a good thing, as the launch date was set for the end of December. The hull was intact, the bulkheads installed, walls paneled and, notwithstanding the roll in the center of this particular corridor, even most of the carpets laid.

They stopped in front of the turbolift and Admiral Hayes nodded. She summoned the lift and it arrived quickly and quietly, the doors opening almost before it came to a complete stop. They stepped inside.

"Deck seven," Janeway commanded, and Hayes looked at her in surprise.

"You're not starting on the bridge, Kathryn?"

"Later," she said, "There's something else I want to see first."

Hayes nodded. "This is your tour--you call the shots."

They exited and Janeway immediately took the lead, heading toward the aft section of the ship. When she'd first looked at Voyager II's blueprints, she'd noticed the auxiliary computer core had been redesigned. At first glance the changes had made sense, but when she'd looked more closely she'd realized the core's connectors contained two major bypasses. In a detailed memo to the Engineering Design Corps, she'd explained that that this would have an adverse effect the efficiency of the system. B'Elanna had noticed the same thing and worked together with her to come up with an alternative design. Neither of them, however, had as yet received a satisfactory response.

The doors to the core bay were wide open, which didn't please her. Nor did the sound of voices coming from behind the core.

"I thought the ship would be more or less deserted..." she started to say to the Admiral, but paused suddenly, holding up her hand signaling him to do the same.

"Seth, I don't think that's the right connector." A woman's voice, sounding concerned.

"What do you mean, V'rena?"

"Check the schematic. It shows a triple-sided coupling there, and you've got a dual."

Janeway heard the clink of metal against metal.

"There aren't any triples here. And the dual fits perfectly."

"Seth, that will cause a short within a few minutes. The whole computer core could go off-line."

"So what? It's only the auxiliary, not the main computer. Anyway, there's a backup reservoir within one meter of the coupling, so it doesn't matter."

"I don't think you should leave it that way. It's too dangerous."

"It's not dangerous, V'rena, and besides," Seth added lightly "No one will ever know."

Janeway stepped into view, trying to control her fury. "But *I* will know. You," she gestured to the young man kneeling beside an open panel at the bottom of the core, "Stand up."

The man, presumably Seth, looked at her curiously. "And you are?"

"Captain Kathryn Janeway, the captain of this vessel." Janeway nodded to herself as Seth's expression changed radically. As he scrambled to his feet, she noted he wasn't wearing a Starfleet uniform, but one that indicated he was an employee of an outside contracting company. "Who do you work for?" she asked him.

"Morna Corporation," he hesitated for a moment, "Ma'am."

"And you?" she asked the young woman, who was standing at attention beside her co-worker.

"The same, ma'am," she replied.

"Seth, is it?" She turned her attention once again to the young man.

"Um... yes."

"Well, Seth, if you're an example of the type of personnel that Morna Corporation hires these days, I'd say they're in a pretty sad state." She turned to V'rena. "What's your status?"

"I'm just a trainee, ma'am. Seth, I mean Mr. Grubnik, is my supervisor."

"I think not," Janeway said to her. "You've just been promoted. And you," she glared at Seth. "You're dismissed or fired or whatever you want to call it. I don't want to ever see you on my ship, or any other for that matter, ever again." She held out her hand. "Give me your I.D. and your access permit."

He handed it over without a word of protest.

"Now get out of here, both of you."

She brushed by them, and knelt down beside the core to inspect the connector paths.

Admiral Hayes, who had stood silently by throughout the incident, moved forward to join her. "How does it look?" he asked.

"Well, at least the engineers incorporated my design suggestions," she sighed. "They've done away with the extra routing and cleaned up the conduit pattern. It looks good."

She picked up a circuit-modulator the two workers had left on the floor in their haste to depart and placed it carefully in the toolbox beside the core.

"I think I need a cup of coffee," Janeway said as she stood up. "We can check out the mess hall and the replicator system at the same time."

***

As soon as they entered the mess hall, Janeway stopped short. "I can understand why the crew quarters don't have any furniture yet, but I expected to at least find some chairs and tables in here." She shrugged. "But it's not important. What would you like, Admiral?"

"Nothing for me, Kathryn, but you go ahead," Hayes replied.

"I intend to!" She laughed and walked quickly across the room towards a bank of replicators set into the wall. She stopped in front of one of them and stood with her hands on her hips, contemplating her options.

"I guess I'd better stick to the basics," she said finally. "Coffee, black."

There was a soft whir and a mug appeared, an aromatic steam rising from its center.

Janeway smiled. As long as she could get a cup of coffee... She removed the cup from the replicator and took a sip, then made a face.

"What's the matter?" the Admiral asked.

"Weak as dishwater," she replied and dumped the cup and its contents into the recycler. "This unit definitely needs work. I'll make a note of it."

***

"Bridge."

The doors released with a familiar whoosh and Kathryn Janeway stepped onto the bridge of her ship for the first time.

The bridge design was almost identical to that of the first Voyager, but here and there she could see signs of change. The Ops station was larger, to accommodate some of the newer communications equipment -- a lot of it based upon data and technology the first Voyager had brought back from the Delta Quadrant. The Security station was larger too, with extra space to move around. Janeway walked over to inspect it more closely, and nodded in approval. *Tuvok would have liked this*, she thought, as she noted some of the improvements he had suggested had been incorporated into the systems displays. With a pang, she realized once again that he wouldn't be joining her on this mission.

She looked over at the engineering console and saw it was as yet incompletely installed. In fact, she realized, there were cables dangling from the side of the warp relay panel. She frowned as she approached and wondered whether B'Elanna had been here recently. She doubted it -- she knew her chief engineer would never leave work half-finished like this. Quite the opposite, she thought--B'Elanna would have torn a stripe off whoever left any work-station in this state of disarray. She picked up a hyperspanner that was lying underneath the console and pocketed it.

"I think I'll turn this in to the engineering department," she said as she turned back towards the center of the bridge. "I imagine Commander Torres will know who it belongs to."

Hayes nodded. "Good idea," he responded. "Have you seen this?" He pointed to a large console attached to the arm of the captain's chair.

She approached, and peered at the vid-screen in the center of the console. It was larger than the one she was used to. She examined the unit for a moment and touched a button at its base. The console rotated so it faced away from the chair. For some reason she was reluctant to sit down just yet.

"I've had one of these in my office for a while," Hayes explained, and he proceeded to activate the unit. "But this is the first one that's been installed on a starship. There," he said, as the monitor came quickly to life, the Starfleet insignia immediately filling the screen.

Janeway leaned over to take a closer look. "What's so special about this unit? I'm sorry, but except for the size, it looks pretty standard to me."

"This has a few new features," he explained and punched a code into the panel. The screen divided into six smaller ones. "We can now holo-conference between Headquarters and several ships at once."

"I see," Janeway replied. She couldn't help wondering whether this meant she'd be bombarded by two or more Starfleet desk jockeys at a time instead of just one.

"Don't you want to sit down, Captain?" Hayes asked her with a twinkle in his eye.

"I..." Janeway turned and sat. The chair was slightly higher than she was used to, and it took a moment to adjust to that. The padding was thicker as well, and the seat cushion almost felt like it was embracing her. She suspected it had embedded sensors that allowed it to conform more easily to the body shape of the occupant. She leaned back and crossed her legs. "It's good," she said, "I think I like the feel of it."

"I thought you might," the Admiral replied as he sat down in the first officer's seat.

Janeway noticed a small panel on the underside of the chair's arm. She tapped it, curious as to its function. Suddenly, there was a deep grinding noise of metal on metal and the chair tilted crazily to one side. She just barely managed to jump to her feet before the entire chair slid off its base and crashed onto the floor.

"Now there's an interesting feature," she said after she'd caught her breath. "I wonder if it's for captains who get too carried away with their own importance!"

"I didn't notice it in the specs," Hayes replied, laughing. "I wonder if they're planning on making it standard on all the new ships."

"It might not be a bad idea, I can think of a few people who could benefit from..." She grinned. "Never mind!" She entered another note into her PADD before making a cursory inspection of the Ready Room and conference room.

"Kathryn, I've got to leave you now," Hayes said to her as he headed to the turbo lift. "I've got a meeting at Headquarters I can't miss. And I imagine you won't mind being on your own here."

"I'll be just fine," she replied. "And thank you, Admiral," Janeway followed him onto the second level of the bridge and patted the railing directly above the command seat. "I know you've been keeping an eye on her for me."

She turned back to look out over her new bridge once more, remembering the many years she had spent on one that was virtually identical, and wondering about the adventures yet to come.

Act 5: December - January

Cobb, County Cork, Ireland December 2, 2380 Stardate 56930.7

Anne Carey walked carefully into the living room, carrying two mugs of steaming tea. She smiled at the back of her husband's head, as he stood before the fireplace. JJ and Patrick were both out, and the house was silent, except for the crackling of the fire. It was raw and foggy outside, which made it seem all the more comfortable inside.

As she watched, Joe picked up a glass bottle from the mantel and peered at the starship within. She frowned slightly. Was he inspecting his handiwork, or feeling nostalgic?

She set the mugs down on the coffee table, and the sound snapped him out of his reverie. "Thanks, Annie," he said, turning around. "I forgot about them. I hope I didn't let them steep too long."

"They're fine," she replied. "Come and sit down. Let's enjoy the quiet."

He sat beside her on the couch, and their shoulders touched. She still relished the physical connection, even a year after his return. It was so wonderful to have him home again.

"We should get the tree tomorrow," he said. "We have a lot to be thankful for again this year."

"Yes," she agreed. "A new baby on the way, for one thing. And the one-year anniversary of your return. My tenure. And very interesting job offers."

He grinned, and clinked his mug with hers. "Not offers anymore, remember?" he said. "We've already made the decision."

She sighed. "I know, Joe. But I just want you to be really sure about this. It's not like you can change your mind later. Once Voyager II leaves, it's gone. And I can't help but think that you belong there. You've dreamed of exploration since you were a boy. There's not a whole lot to see on Utopia Planitia."

"Not a lot to see," he said, "but plenty to do. You're forgetting my other love--besides you, the boys, and the new baby, that is. Engineering! My work there over the last year on the new transwarp designs has been the most technically interesting of my whole career. I've really enjoyed it."

"You could continue that work on the new Voyager," she pointed out, evenly.

"No," he said abruptly, standing up. "Not without you, and not without my children. I was gone for nearly a decade, Annie! I missed so much of their lives, and yours."

"Maybe we could go with you," she said, although she'd never given it any serious thought. "Tom and B'Elanna are bringing Miral."

"Have you lost your mind?" he said, laughing. "We're having a baby in a few months! You just got tenure! And we'd have to uproot the boys. JJ wants to go to the Academy. That's only a couple of years away. It's just not practical. Besides, even with a specific mission to carry out, the Delta Quadrant's not the friendliest and safest of places. I won't put you in harm's way just because I like to tromp around on alien worlds and warp through space."

"Maybe I wouldn't mind tromping around on a few alien worlds, myself," she pointed out. "And you know JJ would give his right arm to do just that!"

"Well, I like JJ's right arm right where it is," he said. "I'd rather not let the Borg have it." Tenderly, he placed his palm on her abdomen. "And you don't even want to know what a Borg maturation chamber looks like..."

Despite the warmth of the fire, Annie shuddered. "Good point," she conceded. Once again, she followed her husband's gaze to the bottled ship on the mantel.

"My time on Voyager was the experience of a lifetime, Annie," he said, quietly. "But it was enough. I'm tired. Right now, the only challenge I want is the challenge of making a good life with you, JJ, Patrick, and the new baby. And I'm happy - I swear it! I honestly love my work on Utopia Planitia, and I was excited when Captain La Forge offered me a permanent position there."

"All right, then," she said, putting her arm around his waist. "I just wanted to play devil's advocate for a bit. And I wanted to be sure you were sure. You've convinced me. We stay."

"We stay," he confirmed. "All of us."

Voyager II, Utopia Planitia December 11, 2380 Stardate 56952.2

Commander Xiang looked around the small science lab he'd designated his temporary office on Voyager II while the construction work was going on. There was no one else in sight, which was good as it meant there was no one to overhear his conversation. If Commander Torres--or even worse, Captain Janeway-- heard about this latest fiasco, he was dead meat and his next of kin might as well start collecting his pension benefits. He glared at the viewscreen once more.

"The what is where?" he asked frostily, hoping he sounded as menacing as he felt. Whatever threat he managed to evoke, however, was wasted on the Vulcan Quartermaster.

:::Sir, as I stated in my previous communication, the ship's furniture consignment is still in storage,::: Lieutenant Sorban said.

"I heard that part," Xiang said, having difficulty keeping his temper at bay. "What I want to know is *why*."

:::We did not receive Form Seven-Six-Two-Three dash Alpha: notification of completion of Job Request Three-Oh-Six-- :::

Xiang cut in, "I know that technically the carpeting hasn't been laid on all the decks yet, but you really don't expect us to put carpeting in Engineering or in the shuttle bays, for that matter!"

:::It is not my job to interpret the regulations, Commander,::: Sorban said in an infuriatingly calm voice, :::but to enforce them. And until I receive the requisite paperwork, I cannot grant your request.:::

"We want the furniture *here*, not in some warehouse in Minsk!" Xiang wished for a moment that he wasn't bald--so he could at least relieve his feelings by pulling his hair out. "You already sent us the bridge chairs, as well as the furnishings for the Captain's Ready Room, so why can't you just release the rest of the ship's furniture?"

:::That was an error,::: Sorban informed him. :::I have already submitted the necessary forms to have that previous shipment recalled.:::

"But you can't do that!" Xiang thought of what Captain Janeway's reaction would be if her custom-made command chair or Ready Room desk suddenly went missing. He gulped. Then again, could it be any worse than when the Chief Medical Officer discovered that Sickbay had no supply cabinets, gurneys or biobeds? Xiang hadn't expected a hologram--just an artificial construct, after all--to get so incensed. Or yell so loudly. "Who is your superior officer, Lieutenant?"

:::Captain Franklin Jarvis, sir.:::

"Is Captain Jarvis available to speak with me?"

:::Captain Jarvis is on a temporary leave of absence, due to health concerns,::: Sorban responded. :::I am in charge of the supply office until further notice.:::

Xiang could well understand why Jarvis became ill, if he had to deal with this Vulcan on a regular basis. Wildly, he wondered about the feasibility of putting together a commando team to break into the warehouse and steal Voyager II's furniture. It would certainly be faster than trying to untangle all of this bureaucratic red tape. Commander Torres' husband seemed the type who would be interested in such a venture. Unfortunately, Starfleet frowned upon such actions. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Lieutenant, all I want to know is when can we expect that shipment!"

:::Three weeks after we receive Quartermaster Department forms Two-Four-Eight dash Delta, Three-One-Seven dash Beta; and a new Seven-Six-Two dash Alpha with a supplemental form Seven-Six-Five dash Omega, describing the delay, sir.:::

Xiang had the sensation of talking to a duranium wall. How was he going to explain to Commander Torres why there were still no chairs in Engineering, or her office? "I'll get back to you," he said and ended the transmission. Quartermasters in general tended to be humorless individuals who were entirely too fixated on details and procedure, at the expense of the big picture. Having to deal with one who was Vulcan was the ultimate match made in hell. He heaved another sigh. Not that insults were going to solve the problem...or any of the other problems they'd been having recently.

He hoped Commander Torres wouldn't mind sitting in one of the four folding chairs he'd brought from his apartment.

Voyager II, Utopia Planitia December 13, 2380 Stardate 56957.7

It was his first tour of duty and as he walked down the sleekly rounded corridors of Voyager II, Ensign Murphy couldn't contain the spring in his step. When he'd first gotten the assignment, he'd hardly believed his eyes. He'd scanned the PADD listing assignments for new graduates at least a million times and sure enough, he had been assigned to the Engineering department under the supervision of Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres. It was a plum assignment, to say the very least, and the others in his class had been visibly jealous. After all, Murphy wasn't known for performance in the Engineering labs; he tended to be clumsy with his hands, but when it came to passing the mandatory Engineering boards, Murphy had wowed everyone with his grasp of theoretical knowledge; he credited his high scores towards landing his current assignment on Voyager II.

Murphy rounded a corner, looking in awe at the new technology he saw on the wall panels. He was so absorbed in the new sights that he didn't see the exposed seam in the recently installed carpet, not until it was too late. The toe of his newly polished boot caught the edge and he went sprawling face down on the floor. He lay there for a second before trying, with as much dignity as he could muster, to get to his feet. He was still gathering his things - PADDs and his carefully packed lunch--when he realized he was staring at a pair of boots.

"Can I help you?"

Murphy looked up. The voice belonged to a worried-looking officer; he noted the three pips on the man's collar. Shamefacedly, Murphy stood up, and hoped that he hadn't completely ruined his new uniform in his fall.

"You must be new," the Commander continued. "I haven't seen you around before. Your name and posting?"

"Ensign Murphy, sir," he said. "Ludwig Murphy, but my friends call me Lucky." He thrust his hand toward the other man.

After a second of hesitation, the commander took Murphy's hand and pressed it briefly. "I'm Commander Xiang."

"Pleased to meet you," Murphy said. "Today's my first day and I'm assigned to Engineering. My shift begins at 1200 hours."

"Ah, then you'd better get down there. Commander Torres runs a tight ship, so to speak." Xiang passed his hand over his face. "I just came from there."

"Yes, sir." Murphy glanced down at the carpet; an edge of the carpet had curled up. "About the carpet...?"

"I'll get someone to deal with it. You'd better hurry. Commander Torres likes her people to be on time."

Murphy hurried past the commander. What a way to start a new job, he thought with dismay. Already he and his clumsy feet had managed to make a mess of things. Well, he thought, puffing out his chest, he'd just make up for it by being the best darn engineer Commander Torres had ever seen.

A quick check of the chronometer as he approached Engineering revealed that it was a few minutes after 1200 hours. He sighed; showing up for work late on the first day was not a good way to start off. Ah well,

Murphy thought, he'd make it up by working an extra 30 minutes at the end of his shift. As he entered Engineering, he noticed that the room was mostly empty. There was just one engineer working diligently at his workstation. Summoning all of his courage, Murphy walked up to the engineer.

"I'm Ensign Murphy," he said, "Ludwig Murphy."

"How very nice for you," came the curt reply.

"I'm new."

This got the engineer's response. He turned around slowly. Murphy was quick to note the two pips on the engineer's collar. "New?" This was said with a bit of arrogance.

"Just graduated from the Academy last month. By the way, my friends call me Lucky."

"I'm Lieutenant Gerald Percy," the lieutenant said. "The others are at lunch in the mess hall, you're free to join them-"

"No, I brought my lunch," Murphy said eagerly. He held up his now smashed packet. "Cheese sandwich, an apple-"

Percy held up a hand. "No need for details, Ensign, I'm a busy man."

"What I'm trying to say is I don't need to waste time going to the mess hall. I can start right now."

"Hmmm..." Percy contemplated the monitor in front of him. "We'll start you out easy. What do you know about gel packs?"

Murphy thought. Hard. He'd had an entire course in neural gel packs but he was drawing a blank. He could *see* the page in his PADD that had given an overview of the technology. Feeling more confident, Murphy recited obediently, "Bio-neural gel packs are organic computer circuits composed of synthetic cerebral neurons, suspended in a nutrient gel medium..." he let his voice drift away, hoping his answer would satisfy Percy.

"Right, good enough." Percy handed Murphy a PADD. "In Panel A, section thirteen, we just installed some new packs. Check to make sure each one is aligned properly with the others and that all of the microfibers are in direct contact with the circuitry. Remember, we need each of these packs to be working at full-capacity to ensure smooth navigation. This is important, Ensign."

"Thank you, sir," Murphy said, feeling very important indeed. He took the PADD, briefly scanned it, and headed to Panel A, section thirteen. He found a toolkit near the panel; apparently someone had been working there earlier. Feeling quite proud of himself, Murphy found the appropriate tool to remove the bolts holding the panel to the wall. The panel clattered to the floor loudly and Murphy looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. However, Engineering was now completely deserted; even Percy had vanished. Taking a deep breath and deciding to take a minute to eat in an attempt to calm his nerves and shaking hands, Murphy made himself comfortable on the floor of Engineering. He leaned back against the wall and unwrapped his cheese sandwich, munching on it thoughtfully. He finished off the sandwich--all but the crusts--and cursorily wiped his hands on his uniform pants. He couldn't find a place to throw away the remnants of his sandwich, so he simply waded up the foil wrapping and left it on the side, planning to throw it away later. Feeling more confident, he turned back to the gel packs.

The diagnostics only took fifteen minutes and by the time Murphy was finished, the engineers had started to come back from lunch. Murphy scrambled to pack his scattered tools; it wouldn't look good to be a slob around these people on his first day on the job. One day, when they saw what kind of work he could do, then he could spread himself out more comfortably. He beamed in pride as he surveyed the gel packs. He'd followed procedures exactly, using the tricorder to inspect each connection and then switching to medical mode to verify the health of each gel pack. He had completed the work efficiently and he was sure that Commander Torres - when he finally got to meet her - would approve wholeheartedly of the job he'd done.

Murphy saw that Percy had returned to his workstation and he started to cross Engineering to talk to his new mentor - Murphy was sure he could count on Percy to help him navigate through the intricacies of a Starfleet career - when he suddenly became aware of the silence in the room. No one was talking, no one was moving. Murphy stopped in his tracks. It was only then he was aware of the half-Klingon - obviously B'Elanna Torres - standing in the middle of Engineering, her hands on her hips. A shiver ran down Murphy's back.

"Who. Worked. On. The. Gel. Packs?" her voice was dangerously calm.

There was silence, a little scuffling of feet, but no one responded. Lieutenant Percy, standing behind Commander Torres, looked down at his feet.

"There is a massive infection in the gel packs," Torres went on. "They were perfectly healthy when I left here." Frustration was evident in her voice. "Who touched them?"

Finally, Percy stepped forward. "It's my fault, Commander."

Torres whipped around. "Lieutenant, I'm surprised. You, of all people, should know better than to touch the gel packs directly with your hands. Do I have to remind you that the gel pack membranes are thin? That they easily transport minute particles from skin into the neural circuitry itself? That a massive infection like this spreads within seconds? And that to eliminate a macrobiotic infection this malignant, the entire panel must be completely replaced? Isn't this the kind of thing all second-year engineers at the Academy learn?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Murphy couldn't stand it; his new friend was taking the blame for his mistake. He stepped forward boldly. "Commander Torres, it wasn't Lieutenant Percy who infected the gel packs. It was me."

Torres twirled to face Murphy. "And you are?"

"Ludwig Murphy, Commander. Reporting for duty as ordered."

"Where are your papers?" Torres barked.

"Uh." Murphy was at a loss. And then he remembered; he'd left the PADD with his orders over by Panel A, section 13, with his lunch. Torres growled at him, her teeth parted slightly. He backed away. "I'll get them, ma'am."

"I'll come with you," Torres said. The inflection in her voice made it clear that she had no patience for dilly-dallying and also, that she didn't trust him. Murphy led the way and as he bent over to retrieve the PADD with his orders on it, he was aware of Torres crouching to examine the remains of his lunch.

"You. Ate. This. Here?" she asked.

"Yes." Suddenly Murphy felt very, very nervous. "I was late and I didn't want to waste any time by going to the mess hall, ma'am."

"Was. This. A. Cheese. Sandwich?" Torres was holding up the foil.

"Yes, ma'am, it was." Murphy was very aware of the silence in Engineering and of all of the eyes on him.

"You brought CHEESE into a sensitive area!" Torres yelled. "Didn't you study the effects of cheese on gel packs? Don't you know that cheese has living organisms in it?" Murphy tried to answer, but Torres continued as if he hadn't opened his mouth. "Since it's evident you skipped this lesson at the Academy, let me give you a brief overview. The lipases, proteases and lactase enzymes in cheese hydrolyze the fats and proteins into their separate components. Guess what happens when those same enzymes interact with the neural network in the gel packs? That's right. The gel packs get sick because you've just reengineered their basic genetic structure."

"Um," Murphy said, completely at loss for words. This all sounded really familiar. He could almost hear Professor Camembert's voice droning on about curdled milk, rennet, coagulation, and more importantly, the effect of bacterium on biological technologies. He gulped, wishing now that he hadn't dozed through most of that lecture, and given the expression on Commander Torres' face, Murphy didn't think a simple apology would cut it. He glanced around Engineering; the other engineers had diligently gone back to their tasks, but he had no doubt that they were still listening. "Commander Torres, I take full responsibility and I promise I won't ever bring cheese into Engineering again."

"Damn right you won't! Or any other kind of food for that matter," Torres said shortly. She grabbed the PADD with Murphy's assignment orders on it from his hand and scanned it quickly.

"I can start replacing the gel packs," Murphy said hopefully. "I don't mind working overtime to finish the job."

Torres glared at him. "You are never going near the gel packs again." She handed the PADD back to Murphy. "Welcome aboard, Ensign Murphy. I've assigned you to scrubbing."

"Scrubbing?" Nervously, Murphy tried to remember if scrubbing had been covered in his engineering courses.

"Yes," Torres said. "It's your job to go over every single inch of the warp plasma manifolds with this-"

Torres produces a thin metal strip with fine bristles attached to the end. Murphy blanched. "But that could take days," he said without thinking.

Torres glared at him. "Do you understand that your carelessness has put us behind at least a day?" She shook her head. "As if I didn't already have enough headaches to deal with. Now, get started."

With a sigh, Murphy took the brush from Torres' outstretched hand. Not the way he'd anticipated his first day aboard Voyager II would go, he thought sadly as he headed toward the far end of Engineering, but he'd scrub Engineering so clean, surely Torres would be impressed with his diligence and give him another assignment in the future. His mood brightened and he got down on his knees. Yes, he thought as he resolutely began picking the dirt out of the crack between adjacent warp plasma manifolds, he would show them all just how skilled an engineer he really was.

Voyager II, Utopia Planitia December 19, 2380 Stardate 56970.8

PADD in hand, Janeway entered her Ready Room on Voyager II. It was the same size as the one she'd occupied for eight years, but the shape was sufficiently different to make this room feel slightly larger. In addition, it was set on the opposite side of the bridge than she was used to; on the original Voyager, this had been where the conference room was located.

Once the fall term at the Academy ended, she had been putting in many long hours on the ship, overseeing the work and even getting her hands dirty on more than one occasion. Chakotay had teased her that she might as well just move in to Utopia Planitia, for all the time she spent at home these days.

But the long hours and attention to detail had been necessary. Janeway was dismayed by some of the construction mishaps and other problems she had encountered, starting from her very first tour of inspection. The engineers and other technicians from Utopia Planitia who were involved in the work for the construction--she was very glad they were not members of her crew. In her darker moments, she found herself wondering who was worse, the Starfleet construction crew or the civilian contractors. In a bow to the inevitable, Voyager II's launch date, originally scheduled for the end of this month, had been pushed back to February. If she had to break the back of every person involved with the construction, Janeway was determined that there be no further delays.

She shook her head as she recalled the saga of the conference room table. Due to various bureaucratic snafus, the delivery of much of the ship's furniture had been delayed by several weeks, and the conference room furnishings had been the last items to arrive. Janeway had had visions of having to conduct meetings of the senior staff while sitting on the floor. So she had been very relieved to hear that everything was finally here. She'd immediately gone into the conference room to see for herself. However--

"What the hell is that?" she managed to say, eyeing the strangely shaped duranium object in the center of the room.

"That's the new conference table," Commander Xiang said proudly. "Looks lovely, doesn't it?"

"It looks," Janeway said flatly, "like some idiot with a plasma torch tried creating a sculpture of modern art and halfway through changed his mind and decided to chuck the whole thing."

"Well, not quite," Xiang said, with a polite smile. "But it *is* similar in conception to the neo-Cortical style on Regulus--"

Janeway interrupted, "I don't care how artistic it's supposed to be. That 'table', Commander, is not an efficient design! Send it back and get me something I can actually use!" She stormed out before Xiang could say another word.

The next incarnation hadn't been much better. Once more, Janeway stood in the doorway of the conference room, her hands curling into fists as they rested on her hips. Xiang eyed her warily. "Is something wrong with this model, Captain?"

She turned her 'death glare' on him. "Yes, you could say that, Commander."

"But this one is--how did you call it--more 'efficient', Captain. The U-shape allows for twice as many people to be seated--"

"But what good is that when most of them are going to have their backs to each other!" Janeway cut in. "This is a conference room, Commander, not a dining hall. My people have to face each other in order to be able to converse!"

"Uh, right. I'll get on it right away," Xiang said in a chastened voice.

Table number three had been an oval shape. It had also been large enough that, once it materialized in the conference room, there was no room for any chairs. Or any people, for that matter. Clearly someone had gotten the measurements wrong. Janeway had patiently explained to Xiang that while she liked the shape, this one wasn't the answer, either.

Which explained why the conference room was currently occupied by a simple, standard issue rectangular table. Xiang had protested that it did not at all match the decor of the room, but Janeway had firmly insisted that she was happy with it.

No sooner had that problem been resolved than another, more serious one arose. Janeway had come into her Ready Room early one morning to discover a puddle on her desktop. Her tricorder said the liquid was mostly water, with a few trace minerals and lipids. Glancing up at the ceiling, Janeway noticed a discolored area on the acoustic tiles and surmised that must be where the water had come from. She'd immediately contacted Engineering, but Xiang (who was probably as sick of dealing with her as she was with him) had told her she needed to talk to Maintenance.

"There is no leak from the ceiling, Captain," insisted Lieutenant Sidney Strollers a short time later. "There can't be--this is Deck One. There's nothing above us except the exterior hull!"

"There is a puddle on my desk, Lieutenant," Janeway said tersely. "Which clearly had to come from somewhere, as I don't think anyone is amusing themselves by transporting small amounts of water into my Ready Room!"

"But there's nothing to leak *from*. That's a solid bulkhead up there."

Janeway said, "What about conduits, plumbing?" At Strollers' blank look she added, "There has to be a water supply, or pipes of some sort running through that bulkhead, as there is a lavatory off of this room, and one right off of the bridge as well."

"Are you sure?" Strollers said with a frown. "I don't recall this being in the blueprints."

Janeway kept her temper with difficulty. "You can go see for yourself."

"I'll do just that, Captain," Strollers said huffily as he left the room. Janeway looked after him in disbelief; after a few seconds, she got a handful of napkins from the replicator and proceeded to mop up her desktop.

That had been a week ago. Since then, Janeway was happy--no, relieved--that no further 'mishaps' had occurred. She was finally able to devote herself to the all-important task of putting together her senior staff and filling vacant positions. Tom and B'Elanna had already accepted the posts for Helm and Chief Engineering, respectively. Janeway smiled as she recalled Tom saying, "After all her hard work, did you think B'Elanna was going to entrust this baby to anyone else?" B'Elanna had immediately replied, "'I could say the same thing about you, Helmboy."

Those positions, as well as the appointment of Dr. Mark Lewis Zimmerman as Chief Medical Officer, had been easy to push through. Unfortunately, she then ran into trouble. Janeway hadn't realistically expected to be able to reunite all of her former crew on board this new ship, but there were some officers that she was adamant about having. The Starfleet Personnel Office, however, had other ideas. They had informed her that she could not get Harry Kim for Ops. Appeals to Admiral Hayes hadn't worked--Lieutenant Kim was unavailable, and moreover, there was another qualified individual that she was "strongly advised" to consider in his place--Ensign Auraan, who happened to be eighth in line for the throne of the planet Troyius. "Which means," she had raged to Chakotay that evening, "that out of the blue--if you'll pardon the expression--I have to take some overbred, arrogant aristocrat instead."

And it still hurt that Tuvok turned her down once more for the first officer spot, reminding her that he had retired from Starfleet. Nothing she'd said had persuaded him, but then again, she really couldn't blame him for not wanting to be separated from T'Pel. If Chakotay weren't coming along on this mission as a civilian scientist, she wouldn't be quite so eager to go herself.

No sense dwelling on impossibilities. Janeway went back to the roster of available officers and those who had applied for spots on Voyager II. "McGowan, James, Commander," she read. "Years in Starfleet: fifteen. Last posting: second officer, USS Cornwall." There was a recommendation from his current CO. "Ishtak, Lieutenant. Years in Starfleet: nine. Last posting: deputy chief of security, Starbase Four. See attached references."

Janeway stopped and stretched, trying to remember how many cups of coffee she'd had so far this morning and if she wanted another one now. The number of applications was staggering. There was no doubt that a posting to Voyager II was considered a plum assignment.

She was momentarily distracted by the feel of something cold and wet on the back of her neck. A second later, there was another one. Janeway looked up at the ceiling, just in time to see yet another drop preparing to fall.

With a sigh, she tapped her comm badge. "Janeway to Lieutenant Strollers."

Security Office, Deep Space Nine January 1, 2381 Stardate 57000.0

Ro Laren looked up as Michael Ayala entered her office. "Has the matter of what happened to Quark's replicators been resolved yet, Lieutenant?" she asked.

"We've arrested the vandals," Ayala said with an exasperated frown. "It wasn't a case of deliberate sabotage, after all--just two unaccompanied Human teenagers with too much time on their hands during their stopover. They're on their way to Earth, but their ship doesn't leave for another twenty-one hours."

"Then give them sixteen hours of community service--and have them assist Quark with the clean-up. It will probably take at least that long to mop up all the plomeek soup off the floor of the Promenade." Ro smiled. "Just make sure those kids are on that ship when it leaves."

"They'll get a personal escort, that's for sure!" Ayala exclaimed. "Considering how irresponsible they seem to be--even for kids their age--I don't know what their parents were thinking, letting them travel by themselves." He turned to go.

"Michael, wait."

Ayala stopped. "Something else, Chief?"

Ro hesitated. "I just wanted to know how things are going?"

"Busy..."

"That's not what I mean. Kajee Narel contacted me last night. She's worried about Luis." Ayala looked away uncomfortably. "She said you mentioned to her that Luis is still very quiet, very withdrawn."

"He just needs time to adjust to all the changes in his life--"

"It's been more than a year since he came to live with you, Michael," Ro broke in, then wondered why she was continuing to interfere.

"There's no time limit for this type of thing," Ayala said defensively. "That's what Ezri said, after her most recent evaluation. After everything Luis has been through, it will take him a long time to get used to having a family again, to know that his brother and I aren't going to suddenly disappear from his life. The trauma of the labor camps--if it weren't for Anne Carey, who knows what kind of shape he'd be in."

"I know all about the Cardassian labor camps," Ro said quietly. "And I'm not saying you're not doing a good job with him. I just..." Her voice trailed off and she decided to switch to a more neutral topic. "I heard that Captain Janeway is getting a new command. Going back to the Delta Quadrant."

Ayala nodded. "I heard from Chakotay that they're going to be leaving soon. He said a lot of the old crew have signed on." He smiled, a bit wistfully. "Can't say I'm surprised."

She caught the undertone in his voice. "Would you have liked to go with them?"

Ayala immediately shook his head. "I couldn't leave my boys."

"Not this mission then," Ro said, "but maybe there will be another one some time in the future, one in which families will be able to go along. You know that Raul would love it."

"The chance to go exploring on a starship? You bet." Ayala grinned. "But with my luck, Paris will offer to teach him to fly. Though it could be worse--it could be Chakotay."

Ro was just about to ask what he meant by that, when a sudden frantic call came through the comm system.

:::Lieutenant Ro, you'd better get down to the Promenade level at once! There's been a--:::

Ro heard something crash and then the signal was lost. She consulted the schematic on the wall and groaned. "It looks like it's coming from Quark's again."

"Those damn kids!" Ayala swore. "I thought I told them--" The rest of his words were lost as he rushed out the door.

Ro sighed. After ordering a full security team to report to Quark's, she called up the schedule of departing ships. Maybe there was an earlier flight to Earth.

Epilogue:

Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco January 10, 2381 Stardate 57027.6

Janeway strode quickly through the corridors of Starfleet Headquarters, nodding to the people she passed, but her mind was not on her surroundings. Admiral Hayes had ordered her to report to his office as soon as possible. He had given no reason; Janeway had spent her time in transit from Utopia Planitia speculating, but had been unable to come up with any explanation.

The aide in the outer office rose as she entered. "You're to go in right away, Captain."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Janeway said. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the presence of additional security officers. Something was up--but what?

The inner door opened. Hayes was speaking to someone seated in the corner of his office, "--the fact is, we don't know how much we can accept at face value--ah, Captain Janeway, you made very good time in getting over here."

"Fortunately, I was able to catch an outbound shuttle within ten minutes of your call, Admiral," Janeway said. At that moment, Hayes' visitor shifted his chair and she gasped in surprise.

It was Tuvok.

Before she could recover, however, Hayes said, "I'm sure you're wondering why you've been called in on such short notice, Captain."

With an effort, Janeway turned her attention back to the Commander-in-Chief. "Yes, sir, I am." She paused, "I presume this concerns Voyager?"

They were scheduled to launch in less than a month. Janeway wondered if Hayes was going to announce another postponement. There had recently been some last minute glitches in the new transwarp drive, but B'Elanna had been confident those would soon be resolved. But even if there was going to be another delay, why would Hayes feel it necessary to tell her in person? Suddenly, the answer hit her--Hayes was going to cancel the mission altogether.

Some of her apprehension must have shown in her expression, because Hayes smiled and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "That's a fair assumption on your part, Captain, that this matter involves your ship. But it's a little more complicated than that." Hayes exchanged glances with a still silent Tuvok. "I called you here today to inform you that, in light of some information that has recently been brought to my attention, the mission parameters have changed." He turned to Tuvok. "Why don't you tell Captain Janeway what's been going on?"

End of Part One of "Reconstruction Blues"

Credits:

Prologue:
October 1, 2380 - Rocky

Act 1
March 13 - Horsie
March 25 - Penny
April 5 - Jamelia
April 13 - Cybermum
April 19 - Penny
May 19 - Horsie

Act 2
June 9 - Julie
June 15 - Rocky
June 22 - Julie
July 4 - Penny
July 9 - Jamelia
July 21 - Horsie

Act 3
August 18 - Horsie
August 23 - Rocky
September 5 - Julie
September 8 - Julie
September 14 - Rocky
September 16 - Horsie
September 22 - Julie

Act 4
October 1 - Rocky
October 2 - Rocky
October 8 - Julie
October 15 - Julie
October 16 - Julie
November 4 - Julie
November 15 - Christina
November 17 - Cybermum

Act 5
December 2 - Monkee
December 11 - Christina
December 13 - Seema
December 19 - Rocky
January 1, 2381 - Christina

Epilogue
January 10, 2381 - Rocky

Traditions One cold winter evening on New Pojza, Seven contemplates 'Traditions'.