chapter 8

 

 

“What is in this?” asked Seven, holding up a corner of the oddly light comforter. Gretchen had just left them, after conducting a tour of the guest house, and she and Revi were preparing for sleep.

Revi looked at her from the other side of the bed. “A down comforter. It’s stuffed with goose down.”

“Goose down,” said Seven blankly, palpating the comforter with both hands. It was an interesting sensation.

“Meaning small, fluffy feathers.” Revi sent her an image. “Extremely insulating.”

“Fascinating,” said Seven, who would never have thought of using bird feathers for heat regulation.

“Mm hm.” Revi pulled the sheets down a little further and began divesting herself of her dress uniform. “And I can’t wait to dive in.”

As always, Seven stopped what she was doing to watch Revi undress. Though Revi did not meet her eyes, she saw the quirk of her mouth.

: Someday you won’t find this quite so fascinating. :

Seven smiled. : Someday my cortical implant will yield to entropy. I suspect the two events will be concurrent. :

That earned her a look that warmed her right down to her toes, and Seven basked in the sensation. From the beginning, she had consistently assured Revi of her confidence in their future, but not until recently had her partner actually believed her. It made all the difference in the universe. No longer were her complimentary thoughts brushed aside or deflected; now Revi accepted them, and every time she did so Seven felt a deep contentment that she could neither define nor describe. At one time, such an inability to verbalize her emotions would have been frustrating, but now she understood that some emotions could not be held up to the light and dissected. They were too deeply imbedded in the Human psyche to be separated out. They made her very Human, and she treasured their existence.

Revi hung her clothes in the closet and practically ran on tiptoe back to the bed. “Damn, this floor is freezing!” she said, hopping onto the high bed. She slid under the covers, pulled the comforter up to her chin and settled in happily. “Come on, my cold toes are waiting for you.”

“Your toes are never cold.” Seven took off her jacket and hung it up next to Revi’s.

“Darling, you’ve never felt my toes anywhere but on our lovely climate-controlled ship. I think you’re in for a surprise.”

Indeed, once Seven pulled off her boots she was startled by the speed at which the wooden floors drained her body heat. Now she understood Revi’s dash for the bed, and quickly followed her example. She’d barely had time to settle in before Revi scooted up against her.

“Gahh!” Seven yelped at the touch of icy cold feet. “Revi!”

“What?” asked Revi innocently.

Seven threw the covers back and reached for one of her partner’s feet. “How is this possible? Your nanoprobes should be regulating this. Are you ill?”

Revi laughed. “No. The nanoprobes regulate our body core temperatures, not necessarily our extremities. Welcome to life on a farm in winter. But please, keep doing that for as long as you want to,” she added as Seven began to rub the cold foot between her hands.

“It’s not a matter of wanting; it’s a matter of survival.” Seven shook her head. “I cannot understand how your feet became so cold so quickly.”

“Family trait.”

Seven looked back at her, then gently released the foot and slid back onto her side, pulling the covers close as they faced each other. : You’re regretting not inviting them. :

: Not really. It would have been a mistake to bring them there. I just regret not having anyone I could invite. :

Seven understood. She had also had the option of inviting her Aunt Irene to the reception, but the idea of meeting her aunt for the first time in such a venue was unsettling. Actually, the idea of meeting her aunt at all was rather unsettling. In their single video contact, Irene had insisted on calling her Annika, which had brought up all sorts of unpleasant memories and insecurities.

: I’ll go with you to meet her if you come with me to meet my parents. :

: So you do want to go. : Revi had changed her mind three times so far.

: After seeing Kathryn with her family, I’m feeling like I should at least give mine a chance. But that doesn’t mean I’ll feel the same way tomorrow. :

: I know. I assume nothing. :

Revi smiled at her. : Sorry to be so inconsistent. :

“Gahh!” Seven had not expected the sudden touch of still-freezing feet on her calves. “Why are they still so cold?”

“Because they have no external heat source.” Revi snuggled in, pushing her feet between Seven’s legs. “Now they do. Ahhh. Much better.”

Seven gritted her teeth until the initial shock faded. “Is it going to be like this every night?”

“Probably. Unless I get smart and wait until I’m already sitting on the bed to take off my boots and socks.” She laughed at Seven’s glare. “Nice. You’ve been learning from Kathryn. Have you noticed how warm everything else is, though?”

Now that she mentioned it, Seven did detect a measurable increase in her epidermal temperature. “Interesting. It feels as if the comforter itself is generating heat.”

“In a way, it is. It’s trapping and reflecting our body heat. That’s the joy of a down comforter.” Revi sent a bit of relevant data.

“Efficient,” Seven decided. “I like it.”

“Me too. I haven’t slept under one of these in a long time.”

“I don’t believe I ever have.”

Revi lifted her head and kissed her softly. : We are a pair, aren’t we? :

: A very good one. :

Smiling, Revi kissed her again, then rested her head on her shoulder. “It’s so strange not to hear the engines,” she whispered.

“I know.” Seven listened to the silence with something approaching awe. It was so quiet that she could almost hear the movement of air molecules against her eardrum. The vacuum of space wasn’t a great deal more silent than this. “I wonder how Kathryn is feeling about it?”

“I’d guess in one of two ways: she’s either lying awake thinking about how weird it is, or she’s dead asleep because it’s so familiar and soothing to her.”

“I hope she’s asleep. Lynne, too.”

“I wouldn’t count on that for Lynne. If this whole night has been strange for you and me, I can’t even imagine what it feels like for her. And having to do that little cloak-and-dagger hovercar switch can’t have helped.”

Seven tightened her arm around Revi. “Lynne is extremely adaptable. Kathryn says she ‘just takes things in stride’.”

“She is adaptable,” Revi agreed. “But she’s also good at hiding what she feels. They’re a hell of a pair.”

 

 

-----

 

 

“God, the silence is fabulous.” Lynne hung up her jacket and shirt, then sat on the bed to take off her boots. “I never realized until now how I adapted to the constant sound of the warp drive on Voyager. Kind of like living on a busy street; after a while you don’t hear the cars anymore. But I’m more used to places like this.”

Kathryn was already huddled under the comforter, waiting impatiently for her warmer spouse to join her. “I’m a little less used to it than you at this point. Seven years of drive hum; I’m still hearing the echoes in my head.”

Lynne shucked her pants, folded them and dropped them at the side of the bed. “Brr. It’s been a long time since I had to strategize on how to get into bed with the least amount of heat loss.” She slipped under the covers and had barely gotten her head on the pillow before Kathryn wrapped herself around her, causing a sharp inhalation. “Jesus! How can you possibly be so cold already?”

“Mmm.” Kathryn snuggled in happily, resting her head on Lynne’s shoulder. “How can you be so warm?”

“Well, before my assimilation I’d have said it was a high metabolism and good muscle tone. Now I’m not so sure. Doesn’t your mother know about things like central heating systems? They have those here, don’t they?”

“It’s still high metabolism, sweetheart. I don’t think you’re any warmer now than you were before. And yes, we have temperature regulation just like everyone else. But Mom doesn’t believe in keeping the house at the same temperature day and night. Traditionalists believe that it’s healthier for the body to adapt to change. And frankly, I’ve always loved sleeping in a cold room. As long as I have a warm enough bed, that is.”

“I understand that. I’m the same way.” Lynne settled the comforter around Kathryn’s shoulder, tucking it in. “And I can’t tell you how cool it is to see real down comforters. It never occurred to me that you’d still be using these.”

“Well, the down is real, but it didn’t come from geese.”

“All the better.”

They snuggled together in a companionable silence, their shared body heat quickly warming the bed to the point that Kathryn had to push down the comforter a few centimeters to keep from overheating.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” she said quietly. “It’s just surreal.”

Lynne’s arm tightened around her, but she made no response. Kathryn shifted her head, seeing Lynne’s eyes open and staring at the ceiling. “Are you doing all right?” she asked.

“I suppose,” said Lynne. “To be honest, things have been surreal for me since the moment I woke up in sickbay and saw you in that new uniform.”

“I guess even coming back to twenty-fourth century Earth pales next to resurrection.”

Lynne met her eyes. “Everything does. You’re the thread holding me together right now. I focus on you because thinking about anything else just leads to insanity. So I’m really, really glad to be here right now. Gretchen is wonderful, and Phoebe is a total crackup, and the house is just beautiful—but the one thing I needed more than the rest was to be here with you. I’ve been counting the hours until we could sleep together again.”

“I was starting to resent your alcove, too.” Kathryn brushed her fingers over Lynne’s skin, savoring the smoothness and warmth. “Last night was a hard one.”

“I knew it would be. I felt so guilty about leaving you. At least when I’m regenerating, I’m out. No worries about waking up halfway through and not being able to get to sleep again. But I worried about you getting any sleep at all.”

“I got enough.”

A gentle hand stilled her wandering fingers. “You accessed my regeneration records at 0612. I know you didn’t get enough.”

Kathryn sighed. “No, I didn’t. But I’m a lot more hopeful about tonight.”

“Me too.” Lynne kissed her softly. “You feel fantastic. And I’m having one of those moments again.”

“Which moments?”

“The ones where I’m ridiculously proud to be the one holding you. My god, Kathryn. You’re bigger than the fucking President. There were probably thirty thousand people in that crowd who’d have sold their left kidney to be in this bed right now.”

“That would be awfully tight quarters.” Kathryn pulled her hand free and resumed her caresses, brushing across Lynne’s shoulder implant and smiling as the body beneath hers twitched. “And I have a thing about Borg implants, so that pretty much rules out the thirty thousand.”

“See, this is why I need you. No matter how weird everything else in my life might be, you’re still a dog. It’s like a universal constant.”

“I pride myself on consistency.” She brushed the implant again, then pushed herself up on one elbow, leaned over and began gently sucking on it.

“Oh god.” Lynne put a hand on the back of her head, holding her in place. “Are you sure you want to do this now?”

Kathryn took a break just long enough to say, “Actually, I wanted to do this at the reception. But I thought it might draw a crowd.” She resumed her sucking, bringing her free hand up to caress Lynne’s breast.

“It might draw a crowd in here, too. Gretchen is just down the hall.”

“Are you worried?”

“No…it’s just been a few years since I messed around with someone’s parents right down the hall.”

Kathryn snorted, which made Lynne’s body jerk, and they both broke up laughing.

“So, when was the last time?” asked Kathryn, resting her chin on Lynne’s chest.

“Mmmm…I guess that would have been Bobby Kirschfield.”

“Bobby? They actually named kids Bobby then?”

“No, they named them Robert. But nobody calls a sixteen-year-old boy Robert.”

“Sixteen, eh? You were an early bloomer.”

“Not really. There wasn’t much to mess around with. But Bobby was happy.”

“How about you?”

“I had a hard time not laughing when he dropped his pants. It was the funniest looking thing I’d ever seen in my life.”

“You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“What do you think?”

“That poor boy,” said Kathryn, shaking her head in empathy.

Lynne grinned. “No, I didn’t…then. But later I told him my theory.”

“Which was…”

“Well, you know how in Genesis it says that God created Adam and Eve from clay?” At Kathryn’s nod, she continued, “I figured if that was the story, then God must have had some clay left over when he was done. So he turned around and as he was walking away, he threw it over his shoulder. That’s where it landed. Splot.”

Kathryn covered her eyes and laughed. “And you told him this.”

“I thought it was a pretty reasonable theory. Don’t you think it explains everything? I mean, why else would it look so funny? It’s like an afterthought.”

Kathryn slid off Lynne’s body and rolled onto her back, still laughing. “You realize you scarred him for life,” she said, once she could breathe again. God, she loved these moments with Lynne.

“Come to think of it, I did hear later that he was gay. But I don’t think it was my influence. Are you going to tell me you didn’t think that was the strangest thing in the world when you first saw it?”

“I think my upbringing was a little different from yours. I’d already been studying xenobiology and alien anatomy by then. Human penises weren’t all that strange compared to some of the other things I’d seen holoimages of.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot—you saw everything in three-dimensional images. I only had the drawings in my health sciences book to go by. They left a lot to be desired.” Lynne began to chuckle. “And then there was this one drawing that was designed to show how sensitive various parts of our bodies are, by making those parts proportionately larger. So it was a picture of a man with huge lips, and giant hands and feet, and this little tiny penis. The boys in class were horrified.”

“What did the picture of the woman look like?”

“Didn’t have one. Twentieth century, remember. Women didn’t appear in health books except for the requisite female reproduction diagram and the pictures of mothers nursing babies. Otherwise it was all about men.”

“God, what a backward time.” Kathryn rolled over and pushed back up on one elbow. “Well, if I were to draw such a picture of you, this would be enormous.” She gently ran her fingertips over Lynne’s chest implant. “And these would be just as big.” Her fingers moved from one nipple to the other, softly squeezing.

“Hm. I’d have odd-looking elbows, too.”

Kathryn chuckled. “True, at least the insides. And knees. And this soft skin on the inside of your biceps…”

“Don’t forget the lips.”

“Never,” whispered Kathryn, leaning in for a long, soft kiss. “And the earlobes,” she murmured, transferring her attention to the nearest one.

“Right.” Lynne’s breathing hitched.

“And the throat…” She moved down, kissing and then sucking on Lynne’s throat, gradually making her way to the underside of the jaw. “Did I mention the lips?” she asked, kissing her way over the top of the jaw.

“Can’t remember.”

Kathryn raised her head and smiled as she looked into dark green eyes. “Bullshit.”

The eyes crinkled in amusement. “You really know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“I learned from the best.”

Lynne wrapped her arms around Kathryn’s back and rolled them both over. “And I still have things to teach, so don’t be speaking in the past tense.”

Kathryn closed her eyes as Lynne kissed her, reveling in the slow, unhurried touch.

Past tense. No, she didn’t have to speak in the past tense about Lynne. It was probably the greatest irony in the universe that she had the Borg Queen to thank for it.

 

 

-----

 

 

“So, did you learn anything worthwhile at the stuffed shirtfest?”

Alison had just touched the cup of tea to her lips, but at this she hastily removed it while she barked out a startled laugh. “I can’t believe you said that! Gretchen Janeway, yes, but not you.”

“The only difference between me and Gretchen Janeway is that she can say what she thinks during the reception, while I have to wait until afterwards.” Aunt Alynna sipped her own tea with aplomb.

They were in the Admiral’s San Francisco apartment, having walked there after the reception. Alison was staying the night before returning to her Colorado home the next morning, an arrangement which saved her some late-night travel time and gave them the opportunity to speak without having to encrypt their conversation.

“I did get some time alone with Elise Hamilton and Charles Fornay before the reception started.”

“And?”

“It was…interesting. Charles was making lascivious comments about Captain Janeway, which is typical for him. He’s always on the make, but I think if any woman actually took him up on it he’d run the other way. He just likes the game.”

“Adele would divorce him on the spot and that would be the end of his life of ease and power. Besides which, Janeway would have him for lunch.”

“I know. I think that’s part of the appeal; he knows she’s untouchable so that makes her a safe target for his comments.”

“Did he say anything about Lynne Hamilton?”

“Just that he believes she’s the real thing. So does Elise. And Elise thinks Brian is in agreement, but he won’t say so until Ms. Hamilton proves her identity.” Alison took another sip. “Elise said something interesting, though. She feels sorry for Ms. Hamilton because of her time displacement and what she’s stepping into…but when I suggested that perhaps it was their job to help protect her, she said Ms. Hamilton only shares their name. It doesn’t make her their family. She was quite cool about it.”

“That is interesting. Separation of emotion.”

“Are you thinking that would be necessary if she were the one trying to remove Ms. Hamilton?”

“Only if she had any feelings of regret to begin with. What about Brian?”

Alison sighed. “I never managed to get him alone; somebody was always coming up to talk to him. And of course he’d never mention anything about Ms. Hamilton in public. Not until her identity is proven. Adele had a few things to say, but none of it was very helpful. She’s unhappy about the identity proof being a closed meeting; she says if the leadership of the Foundation is going to change hands, it should do so in front of the full board, not just the officers. But I think she’s just put out by the fact that Charles will be there for it and she won’t. Brian didn’t exactly earn her everlasting love by backing her husband’s election as an officer and not her own.”

“Adele is a socialite and Brian is a smart man who doesn’t let family ties get in the way of good business decisions,” said Aunt Alynna. “Charles actually does the job; she would have been in it for the increased exposure. Besides, she’s assuming the leadership will change hands. The moment Lynne Hamilton’s identity is proven, she’ll only be taking over her own trust fund, not the Foundation. Not unless she wants it. Do you think she does?”

“Based on the messages we’ve sent back and forth, no. But she feels it’s her responsibility. After all, her parents left instructions for her to take the Chair’s position.”

“That’s a heavy responsibility. And even if she does take over leadership, she’ll still need the existing board for awhile, especially the officers. She’ll have a steep learning curve. Nothing will change immediately.”

“I think Brian knows that. Ever since that first meeting when he dropped this on me, he’s been calm about the whole thing. But then Brian is calm about everything.”

Her aunt nodded. “The few times I’ve dealt with him, he was the consummate businessman.”

A comfortable silence fell on the room as they sipped their tea and looked out the expansive windows at the San Francisco skyline.

“I’ll be so glad when Ms. Hamilton takes over her trust fund,” said Alison.

“And you think she’ll be safe then?”

She looked at her aunt in surprise. “You think she won’t? Whoever was trying to kill her was only doing it to keep her from claiming the fund. Once she signs the transfer, there’s no motive anymore.”

“There is if she dismisses the current fund managers. Or if there’s any concern that she might dismiss her fund managers.”

“Sweet Mary.” Alison rested her head on the back of her chair. “I don’t know why, but I never thought of that. This whole time I’ve just been counting down the days until it was over.” She met her aunt’s eyes again. “She’s going to need to put a legal policy in place that specifies the management of her fund in the event of death. If it becomes abundantly clear that her death would result in the reassignment or dissolution of her funds, with no benefit whatsoever to her managers, that should be all the insurance she needs.”

“Sounds like what she needs is someone who knows her way around legal contracts.”

“That’s a little problematic, Aunt Alynna. I’m not her employee yet. Until her identity is proven, my working with her could be a conflict of interest.”

“Do you work for the Board of Directors, or for the Foundation? Seems to me you work for one and report to the other.”

Alison sighed. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 9

 

 

It was the aroma that woke Kathryn. Without an alarm or her internal sense of having to be somewhere, she had apparently managed to sleep well into the morning—it was too light in the room to be much earlier than 1000. She knew what she’d find when she rolled over, but it was still a disappointment to see an empty bed. Judging by the cold sheets, Lynne had been gone a while. That wasn’t unusual; since her assimilation she’d rarely required more than four hours of sleep per night. But Kathryn couldn’t help feeling a little bereft this morning. It would have been so nice to lie here and snuggle with her.

Then again, there was that wonderful smell. She closed her eyes, savoring it. Fresh coffee, and bacon, and something baked—probably her mother’s homemade sticky buns. Oh, god, it smelled fantastic. This was something she’d dreamed of for years. Nothing from a replicator ever smelled like this.

She threw back the covers and knelt by her bag, pulling out a pair of flannel-lined jeans, a silky undershirt and a sweater. She’d replicated the winter clothes back in the Terellian system, when she was gleefully planning ahead for their arrival home. A lifetime ago, before Lynne had died.

The brisk air inspired great efficiency in dressing, and soon she was pulling on the thermal socks and waterproof ankle-high boots that would keep her feet warm no matter where she and Lynne went today. After a quick hair brushing, she stepped out of the room and made her way downstairs.

The air temperature increased by degrees as she descended; as always, her mother kept the downstairs living quarters warmer than the upstairs. The kitchen was the warmest of all, heated by the stove and the oven, and the aromas were heavenly. She rounded the corner to find Lynne, Phoebe and her mother all sitting at the table with empty plates and steaming cups in front of them.

“Told you that would bring her down,” said Phoebe smugly.

“Were you laying odds that I wouldn’t respond to my first real bacon and fresh buns in seven years?” Kathryn walked straight to the stove, plucking a still-warm piece of bacon from the cooling rack. “Can’t imagine anyone would have taken you up on it.” She crunched the bacon between her teeth and nearly swooned. “Oh, I need more of that,” she said, grabbing a plate from the counter and loading it up. A chair scraped and Gretchen appeared beside her, pulling a frying pan off the overhead rack.

“Don’t stuff yourself on that; I have pancake batter and scrambled eggs, too. We were just waiting for you to come down.”

Kathryn turned to eye the empty plates on the table. “Haven’t you already eaten?”

“Nope.” Lynne pushed her chair back and joined her at the counter. “We just had a few pieces of bacon to tide us over. You look great in that sweater,” she added, wrapping an arm around her waist and dropping a soft kiss on her forehead.

Kathryn put her plate down and tugged Lynne closer, taking a moment to simply absorb her warmth and presence. “You look great in my mom’s kitchen,” she said, resting her head on Lynne’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you wake me up if you were all waiting to eat?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I wanted to,” said Phoebe from the table. “But your bodyguard wouldn’t let me.”

“You needed a good night’s sleep for once,” said Lynne, squeezing Kathryn before pulling back and looking into her eyes. “We would have waited until noon if that’s what it took. And none of us wanted to have our first breakfast without you.”

“I did,” said Phoebe.

“She’s full of shit,” said Lynne as Kathryn glared at her sister.

“I know,” said Kathryn. “A lot of things have changed, but that’s immutable.”

“Well, now that you’re up,” said Gretchen, “why don’t you run over to the guest house and bring Seven and Revi back?”

“Can I get a cup of coffee first?”

“I’ll go,” said Lynne. “You sit and have your coffee.”

“No way. I’m not missing your first sight of my childhood home in daylight.” Kathryn released her wife and opened the cupboard where the cups and glasses had always been kept. They were still in the same place, to her relief, and tucked in the back was something she’d hoped to find: her old Academy travel cup. With a small sound of satisfaction she pulled it out and held it up. “You kept it.”

Gretchen looked at her with an odd downturn to her mouth, then nodded shortly and turned away. “Yes, I did,” she said, reaching into the refrigeration unit. By the time she turned around again, a bowl in each hand, her expression had evened out. “As you said, some things are immutable.”

Kathryn stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.” Their eyes met for a moment before both women made themselves busy elsewhere. Kathryn glanced around for the coffeepot, only to find Lynne already holding it up for her.

“One for the road?” she asked.

“Please.” Kathryn popped the lid on the cup and held it out.

“Say when.”

“When.” With a smile, she pressed the lid back on and took her first sip. “Oh, yes,” she murmured.

“What the hell does that mean?” asked Phoebe. “Say when?”

“It means stop pouring.” Kathryn took another sip, savoring the incredible flavor as it slid down her throat.

“Well, I figured that much out. But why when?”

“Ask her.” Kathryn tilted her head toward Lynne. “God, Mom, this is fantastic.”

“Glad you’re enjoying it.” Gretchen smiled as she pulled more bowls out of the refrigeration unit. “I bought it in town just before leaving to meet you.”

“It’s something we always said in my day,” Lynne told Phoebe. “I think it’s just shorthand for ‘tell me when to stop.’ Kathryn thought it was pretty odd too, but she’s adapted. Except that she always takes it literally.”

“You two are both a bit odd,” said Phoebe.

“You don’t know the half of it,” said Kathryn. “Ready to tromp out in the snow?”

Lynne nodded. “Sure. Do I need a coat?”

“Is it windy outside, Mom?”

“No. Not a breath of air moving.”

“You don’t need a coat. Come on, let’s go get Molly.” She headed down the hall toward the living room, where Molly’s bed was now located. Last night’s display notwithstanding, Molly found it difficult to get up and down the staircase these days. Her bed had been in the living room for a couple of years now.

Molly was dead asleep, her paws resting on the edge of the bed and her head hanging a little over the side. Kathryn knelt beside her and gently rubbed her ears. “Hey, girl. Want to go for a walk?”

Molly’s ears pricked first, then her eyes opened wide and she struggled to her feet, taking her time for a long, careful stretch before prancing around and wagging her tail like a puppy. With a glad bark she jumped up, licking at Kathryn’s face, and Kathryn found herself having to calm her dog all over again while holding her coffee out of harm’s way.

“Did she forget last night?” asked Lynne, taking the cup out of her hand.

“Maybe.” Kathryn wrapped her arms around Molly and just held her. “Calm down, girl. I’m still here. I’m not going off planet for awhile, okay?”

Molly wriggled and squirmed, trying to twist around and get a lick in, but she soon settled down and sat with a thump, her plumy tail sweeping the floor.

“Good girl.” Kathryn dropped a kiss on her furry forehead. “Want to go play in the snow?” As she rose, Molly instantly rose with her, trotting out into the hallway. Kathryn and Lynne followed, finding her standing at the front door with a waving tail and expectant air.

“You realize that you’re not kissing me with those lips,” said Lynne, handing her cup back.

Kathryn took it and made exaggerated kissing motions, laughing as Lynne backed away. “Oh, come on. A little fuzz never hurt anyone.”

“It’s not the fuzz, it’s the drool. Ick.”

“I didn’t kiss her on the mouth.”

“No, but she kissed you on yours.”

Kathryn opened the door, watching Molly shoot out like a furry projectile as she and Lynne followed more sedately. She stopped at the top step, one arm around Lynne’s waist, simply breathing the crisp air and taking in the scene. She could feel the air going all the way to the bottom of her lungs with every breath, and warmed her throat with a sip of hot coffee. The contrasting physical sensations were so familiar that it made her heart ache.

Beside her, Lynne took a deep breath and sighed happily. “Clean air, snow, and a horizon. Lovely.”

“I thought you might like it.”

“Well, it’s kind of flat, but other than that it’s nice.” Lynne tugged her closer.

“Do you think you could be happy in a flat landscape?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never lived in a flat place before. But then, I’d never lived in a starship before and that worked out pretty well.”

“You had no alternatives then. Now you do. We could live anywhere, Lynne. As long as we’re close to a transport site, distance doesn’t matter.”

Lynne stared out at the snowy scene, her eyes narrowed against the glare. “There’s an idea that takes some getting used to—truly being able to live anywhere.”

“We have to make a decision at some point, though it’s certainly not anything pressing. I still have an apartment in San Francisco, thanks to Mom, but we couldn’t take it until the current lease runs out in September. Even if I could legally do it, I’d never throw someone out of their home just because I want it back. I love it here—and definitely want to stay for awhile—but I also know that at some point this house will not be big enough for two adult Janeways.”

“Or three,” said Lynne. “Gretchen says Phoebe is practically a resident.”

“Even worse. So, keeping in mind that our only limitation is proximity to a transport site, where would you want to live?”

“Where would you want to live?”

“Ah ah. I asked first. And you’ve been in my home for the past two years, so I think your desires count for more right now.”

“I’d disagree with that. But just off the top of my head…I’d say western Colorado. My old stomping grounds. But I don’t know what it looks like anymore. How much has it changed? Too much and I wouldn’t want to go back. Not enough and that might hurt, too.”

Kathryn rubbed her side. “I understand. Maybe we should go take a look.”

The ribs under her hand expanded. “I’d like that,” Lynne said softly.

“Well, since we’re going to Denver to meet the Foundation people anyway, why not just plan to stay for a few days? You said you wanted to go skiing.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think we’d have time. Aren’t you the slave of Starfleet right now? Can you get away so soon after coming home?”

“Admiral Necheyev gave me two weeks, provided that I’m always within range if she needs to call me back to clarify my debriefings so far. After that I’ll be in debriefing hell again, not to mention the publicity tour.”

“Two weeks? You didn’t tell me that!”

“I didn’t have time until now. She told me at the end of our last debriefing yesterday. We’ve been kind of busy since then.”

“Pfft.” Lynne waved her hand in dismissal. “I do believe we’ve shared a bed since then.”

“I know, but I was focusing on other things.” She saw the half-smile forming on Lynne’s face, and knew she was forgiven.

“Actually, I’m surprised they don’t have you sitting in media interviews as we speak,” Lynne commented. “Strike while the iron is hot, you know?”

Kathryn furrowed her brow. “No. I don’t know. What the hell does that mean?”

“Um…okay, back when blacksmiths made iron tools and whatnot by hand, they had to heat the iron to make it malleable first, right?”

“Riiiighht…” Kathryn wasn’t getting it yet.

“So they’d heat a rod of iron, and then pull it out of the fire and start shaping it. By hitting it with a hammer. But the shaping could only happen as long—”

“As the iron was red hot, got it,” finished Kathryn. “That’s a new one. So I’m iron?”

“Oh no, love, you’re duranium alloy. I was talking about the situation. Voyager just landed, about ninety zillion people saw it live all over the Federation, your name and face have been on the FedComm for weeks already…surely everyone in this quadrant wants to know more about you right now.”

“Ugh. Well, I’m sure it was suggested. But Necheyev said that Starfleet recognizes that I might need to ‘decompress,’ as she put it.”

“My god, someone at Starfleet is being sensible?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, sweetheart.”

“Then I guess I’ll keep trying until it does.” Lynne glanced sideways at her. “I think they want to make certain you’re not going to have some sort of meltdown in front of the press. Very bad for public relations, that.”

“Maybe. But I have my own theory.”

“What’s that?”

“I think they’re hoping to wrap up the Maquis issue before they launch the publicity blitz.”

Lynne scowled. “Jesus. How long does it take? They’ve had half a damn year already! God, politicians are just as slow in your time as they were in mine. I thought there’d be some improvement.”

“Human nature doesn’t change that much in a few hundred years.”

“So I see.”

“Anyway, I have time. I just need to be back for the publicity tour. Besides, Starfleet owes me a shipload of leave; if I really wanted to get away they’d be hard pressed to say no. It helps that Necheyev knows you’re the key to Starfleet’s continued funding. She wants to stay on your good side.”

“Oh yeah. Forgot about that.”

“You did?” asked Kathryn in surprise.

“No. I just wish I did.”

There was nothing to say to that, so Kathryn contented herself with sipping her coffee as they watched Molly finish her tour of the yard. After snuffling at the tip of a shrub that was nearly buried in snow, Molly walked back to the bottom of the steps and waited. Clearly she was ready to go.

“So you’re not turned on by dog drool, eh?” Kathryn asked. From the corner of her eye she saw Lynne’s smile.

“Not particularly, no.”

“You realize that Molly has a cleaner mouth than I do.”

“Oh, come on. That was a myth four hundred years ago; haven’t you people gotten smarter since then? Dog mouths carry just as big a bacteria load as Human mouths.”

“Yes, but the bacteria are different.”

“And that makes it so much better.” Lynne’s voice dripped with disgust, and Kathryn laughed as she closed her cup again.

“Come on, Miss Hygiene. Let’s go find our shipmates.” She led the way down the stairs, past the front of the hovercraft and around the side of the house, where the guest house came into view fifty meters away. “Look at this,” she said, shaking her head as she stepped into the narrow path. “Mom is still shoveling snow.”

“So?” asked Lynne from behind her. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing except that she’s at an age now where nobody would fault her for giving up just a little of her Traditionalist tendencies. She could have vaporized the snow in a few minutes. It probably took her an hour to shovel this.”

“Or it took Phoebe an hour,” Lynne pointed out. “Besides, you know as well as I do that physical activity is the best recipe for a long life. If your mom is still shoveling snow, then I say good for her.”

“I know. I just worry. She’s older than I remember.”

“So are you.”

“Thanks.”

Molly trotted up the path ahead of them, looking over her shoulder every few steps to make sure Kathryn was still there. When they arrived at the porch steps she walked up carefully, then stood at the top and watched them with a gently waving tail. As Kathryn neared the top step, Molly bumped her hand with her nose, soliciting a petting.

“Yes, you’re still just as beautiful as ever,” Kathryn told her, scratching her ears and the top of her head. Molly tilted her head happily, her eyes half-closed, then opened them wider as Lynne stepped up to the porch next to her. Kathryn straightened and Molly immediately bumped Lynne’s hand, but was disappointed when that earned her nothing more than a pat on the head. She licked Lynne’s hand, a clear message that she was seeking more, but Lynne just wiped the hand off on her pants and stepped around Kathryn.

“So what’s the protocol these days?” she asked. “Do we knock?”

“You don’t have much experience with dogs, do you? She was asking you for a little attention.”

“I know. But you’re the one she really wants.”

“Lynne, she’s a dog. She wants attention from everyone.”

“So ‘dog’ is synonymous with ‘attention whore’?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that crudely, but…yes. And she’s old and creaky, so be nice to her.”

“I was nice. I petted her.”

“You call that a pet?” Kathryn turned to Molly and gave her a good two-handed scratching, making sure she got all the itchy places behind the ears and along the throat. “This is a petting.”

“Fine. I’m knocking now.”

Kathryn laughed as Lynne gave a smart series of raps to the door. “It’s okay,” she told Molly. “We’ll get her trained.”

The door opened, revealing Revi in jeans and a red sweater that set off her dark hair. “Hi,” she said with a smile. “I see you’re finally awake. Is it breakfast time?”

Seven appeared behind her, and Kathryn’s eyes widened at the sight of her very proper Astrometrics officer in casual clothes. Not that she wasn’t wearing the same thing herself, but on Seven the jeans and light blue sweater seemed so…exotic. Her loose hair just added to the effect.

“So you’ve all been waiting for me?” she asked as they came out onto the porch.

“Mm hm.” Revi latched the door behind Seven. “Don’t worry, your mom left some fresh fruit juice and breakfast rolls in the kitchen here. We were fine. And you really, really needed the sleep.” She examined Kathryn’s face critically, then smiled. “You look great.”

“Thank you.” Kathryn turned, embarrassed by the knowledge that everyone had apparently been keeping watch over her. “Shall we go have that breakfast you’ve all been waiting for?”

“I’m ready,” said Lynne. She hopped down the stairs and into the path, only to be shoved aside by Molly. “Sheesh. If you wanted to go first, all you had to do was say so.”

“She’s a dog,” said Revi. “They always want to go first. They’re kind of like captains that way.”

“Hey!” said Kathryn in mock outrage. “That is not true.”

“About dogs or about captains?”

“She’s right, Revi,” called Lynne from the front of their single-file line. “Sometimes I get to go first.”

“Okay, I didn’t need to know that,” said Revi, and Kathryn snorted.

“Why is so much Human humor predicated on sex?” asked Seven.

“Because people like Revi get so embarrassed by it,” said Kathryn.

They trooped up the main house steps and into the entryway, where Kathryn directed everyone to leave their dripping shoes. “This is a shoes-off house when it’s wet outside,” she said. “Which is pretty much November through April. And then during the summer thunderstorm season, too.”

“Wise,” said Lynne as she sat on the shoe bench.

“Space is so much cleaner,” said Seven, looking with distaste at her snow-covered boots.

“Oh, but Seven, there’s so much fun to be had in this messy snow,” said Lynne with a grin.

Gretchen welcomed them into her kitchen, where the scrambled eggs and pancakes were already cooking, and soon all six women were sitting around the table with piles of food in front of them. The women from Voyager were loud in their appreciation, and Seven was clearly astonished at the flavors. She peppered Gretchen with questions about seasonings and spices, and was taken aback at how simple the meal really was.

“If you have good basic ingredients, you don’t need fancy spices,” Gretchen told her. “Those spices are wonderful at the right time and place, but for the everyday meals, just use high quality, fresh ingredients.”

“Gods, Kathryn, you ate like this for your entire childhood?” asked Revi.

“Mm hm.” Kathryn was busy forking in a bite of fluffy pancakes dripping with maple syrup. “And I was embarrassed about my Traditionalist mother who wouldn’t use a replicator.”

“Well, you were an idiot.”

“I know. I didn’t want to be different.”

Revi, Seven and Lynne all laughed at that, leaving Gretchen and Phoebe blinking in confusion.

“She’s one of a kind and proud of it,” explained Lynne. “None of us can imagine a Kathryn who just wanted to fit in and not be noticed.”

“Remember how pissed she was over the con artist who impersonated her?” asked Revi, and they all laughed again, which led to a retelling of how two Delta Quadrant thieves had impersonated Kathryn and Tuvok, using their ‘Federation’ credentials to bilk all sorts of unwitting victims.

“You should have seen them squaring off in the brig,” said Lynne. “I watched the security logs. Here’s this woman behind the force field with a bad wig that’s styled just like Kathryn’s hair, and a captain’s uniform that’s not quite right—”

“With the extra large commbadge,” added Kathryn, and they laughed again.

“Yeah, the commbadge was a dead giveaway; it was three times the size of ours. So Kathryn walks up to the force field, and they size each other up…and then Kathryn says, ‘Nice hair.’”

Revi picked up the narrative. “And the imposter said she’d expected the great Captain Janeway to be…taller.”

“Ooo,” said Phoebe, grinning at her sister. “I’m surprised Kathryn let her live.”

“Oh, it got worse,” said Lynne. “Then she said, ‘I make a better you than you.’ You should have seen Kathryn after that. Hell hath no fury like a woman badly imitated.”

“What happened to her?” asked Gretchen.

“Kathryn set up a sting, with the help of Neelix, Tom Paris and the Doctor,” said Lynne. “She let the thief think she was escaping the brig, when in reality she was just leading us right to her own ship. Tom and the Doctor waited until she contacted her ship and arranged to be beamed aboard, and then they knocked her out. It was actually the Doctor who beamed on board—in the guise of the thief.”

“Except he did a much better imitation of her than she did of Kathryn,” said Revi.

“He even had the bad wig right,” added Kathryn.

“And got them to lead us right to their stash of stolen goods,” said Lynne. “We returned everything and saved the Federation’s tattered reputation.”

“And the thieves went to the closest world they’d victimized,” said Kathryn. “I figured their various victims could argue over extradition all they wanted to; I wasn’t sticking around for that. But I always did wonder who got them in the end.”

“I think that was you, love,” said Lynne, and they all broke up laughing, with Seven joining a half-second after the rest. Kathryn knew she’d had to translate the double meaning, but the fact that she found it amusing said worlds about her progress.

“So where is everyone going today?” asked Gretchen later, as they were all relaxing with cups of coffee, tea or hot chocolate.

“I’m taking Lynne on the Great Childhood Tour,” said Kathryn. “Seven, Revi, you’re welcome to come along if you’d like.”

“Oh, no,” said Phoebe. “She’s going to drag you through fields and over hill and dale in the snow. Go to town and take in a few art galleries, for heaven’s sake. You’ll have more fun and you’ll be warmer.”

“I wish to accompany you,” said Seven, meeting Kathryn’s eyes. “You made me a promise. I’ve waited two years and nine months to see your home.”

“I remember that promise,” said Kathryn. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than keeping it today.”

“Will you show me the world’s biggest ditch as well?” asked Seven with a smile.

“What’s that?” asked Lynne. “Some sort of giant irrigation system?”

“A canyon system in Arizona,” Seven informed her. Lynne’s mouth dropped open as she turned on Kathryn.

“You told Seven the Grand Canyon was the world’s biggest ditch?!”

Phoebe and Gretchen laughed at the expression on Kathryn’s face. “She got that from her father,” said Gretchen. “That’s what he called it.”

“Well, with all due respect to him, that’s terrible.” Lynne turned back to Seven. “Don’t let her take you. She’s clearly not qualified. I’ll take you there and I promise you will see magic, Seven. Even if you didn’t have any interest in geology you’d love the geometry in the erosion patterns. Did you know that the rock formations exposed at the bottom are two billion years old?”

“Really?” asked Seven in interest. “That’s forty-four percent of this planet’s life span. It’s unusual to have exposed rock of that relative age.”

“My point,” said Lynne, sitting back.

“I’ll go with you,” Seven decided.

“Hey!” said Revi. “Hello? Partner sitting over here. Am I in this picture anywhere?”

“You’re invited too,” said Lynne. “We’ll leave the ditch lovers here in Indiana.”

“Hold on now,” said Kathryn. “I’ll have you know I hiked the north rim with my father when I was nine.”

“Yeah? Did he show you the sprinkler system?”

Gretchen threw her head back and laughed as Kathryn leveled a sadly ineffective Glare O’ Death at her wife. “Oh, lord,” Gretchen chuckled. “You two really are made for each other. You either had to fall in love or kill each other. I’m glad it was the former.”

“It’s not too late for the latter,” said Kathryn.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 10

 

 

Seven was still having a difficult time with the fact that she was actually crunching through snow-covered fields in Bloomington, Indiana. When Kathryn had first promised to bring her to this place, it had been a nearly empty guarantee, backed only by Kathryn’s refusal to accept any possibility but a return home. But even then Seven had believed.

And now here she was, breathing air that felt and smelled and tasted different from any she had personally experienced before…and hearing things from Kathryn that gave her an entirely new view of her friend and captain. The whole situation was unreal.

“There it is,” said Kathryn, pointing ahead to a small knoll topped by a single massive willow tree. “My childhood refuge. That was my hideaway right up until the day I entered Starfleet Academy.”

“And after,” said Revi. “I heard stories.”

“Me too,” said Lynne. “I seem to recall that a certain Commander Janeway came to this tree when she got her promotion to captain.”

“That’s a story I’d better not hear from any other source,” said Kathryn as they continued toward the knoll. “Lifelong imprisonment is still an option under Starfleet code, you know.”

“Oh, come on, Kathryn. You just told us about trying to walk more than thirty kilometers home through a thunderstorm after losing a tennis match, because you didn’t think you deserved the transport.” Lynne reached out for her hand. “After that, knowing that you sat in a tree when you made captain seems kind of…normal.”

“Normal is relative,” said Seven.

“You would know better than any of us, darling.” Revi’s smile was so bright and easy that Seven found herself smiling in response.

“I disagree,” she said. “Every one of us is normal relative to our chosen friends and partners. But we are not normal relative to what I know of the average Earth resident.”

“Especially the average resident in the Indiana Agricultural Park,” said Kathryn. “You’re right, Seven. We’re a rather unusual bunch. That’s why I’m so glad you and Revi came here with us. It’s…comforting to have friends nearby who understand.”

Revi nodded. “I was glad for your invitation, for the same reason. I’m just not ready to talk to people who require explanations.”

“I know what you mean,” said Lynne. “But I’m not going to have much of a choice about it.”

Conversation ceased as they began the slippery climb up the knoll, but Seven suspected they were all thinking about the same thing: Lynne’s appearance before the Hamilton Foundation board officers. The appointment had been set before they’d arrived at Earth. She knew her friend wasn’t looking forward to it, but the board was anxious to get the identity issue settled. The problem was that as soon as Lynne accepted her trust fund, she would also have to accept responsibility for the Foundation itself—which meant becoming a very public person.

They arrived at the top of the knoll and paused by unspoken agreement. The willow tree was an enormous specimen, its sweeping branches covering nearly the entire level surface and so thick that almost nothing could be seen through them. Once they leafed out in the spring, they would be impenetrable. Seven understood why Kathryn had called it a hideaway; unless someone had known her location, they would never have found her by visual search alone.

Kathryn moved forward, parting the drooping branches with both hands and ducking through. The others followed, and Seven soon found herself able to stand upright at the center of a constricted world. Compared to the glare of sun on snow, the light that filtered through these branches was soft and dim, and the density of the surrounding branches gave the impression of a place entirely removed from the fields they’d just walked through.

The sound of scraping bark drew her attention, and her eyes widened at the sight of her dignified captain climbing up the tree. She knew from her studies that tree climbing was a nearly universal experience of Human childhood—at least, for those children growing up in temperate climates—but it was supposedly an activity limited to children. Not adult Starfleet captains.

: What was that you were just saying about relative normality, Seven? :

She glanced at Revi to see another of those easy smiles. : You’re so relaxed here. :

: Hard not to be. You are, too. I think we’re absorbing it through osmosis; maybe just because it’s so damn quiet. :

“Coming, Seven?”

Seven turned to Lynne, who was standing by the tree trunk with an eyebrow raised in challenge. “Coming where?” she asked ingenuously.

“I know for a fact you’ve never climbed a tree in your life. Now is the time.”

“The fact that I have no memory of it does not preclude the possibility. I may have climbed a tree before my assimilation.”

“If you can’t remember it, it doesn’t count.”

“Come on, Seven,” Kathryn said from her perch. “I’ve been waiting a long time to see you up here.”

It was an invitation Seven found impossible to refuse. She walked to the base of the tree, eyed the growth patterns on the trunk for a moment, and reached up for the lowest branch. The wood was rough beneath her palms as she swung herself to the next foothold, and a moment later she was standing beside Kathryn in the wide, curved space created by a fork in the main trunk.

“This was my thinking spot,” said Kathryn, dropping to a crouch and then sitting with her back to the more vertical trunk. She scooted to one side and patted the bark next to her. “It’s a little cramped for two adults, but I think we’ll fit.”

Seven carefully sat next to her, the narrow confines of the space requiring more body contact than she was accustomed to. But Kathryn showed no discomfort at the way their bodies were touching from shoulder to hip, and even rested a hand on Seven’s leg as she spoke.

“It does my heart good to be here,” she said, looking up into the branches. “And to have the rest of you here. Remember the ion storm just before we went to Dakmor? I remember thinking afterward about the thunderstorms at home, and how ironic it would be if I finally got us home and ran out to see my tree, only to find that it had been destroyed by lightning. It’s standing up here by itself; I have no idea why it hasn’t been hit already. But I’m so glad it hasn’t.”

“As am I,” said Seven. “Since it brings you so much joy.”

Lynne wrapped her hands around the low branch and swung herself up, sitting on the branch with her legs dangling. “Maybe it has the famous Janeway force field,” she said. “The one that repels all damage no matter how many times lightning strikes.”

“I haven’t repelled all the damage,” said Kathryn quietly, and Seven felt an urge to comfort her. An image from Revi gave her the courage to reach out and cover Kathryn’s hand with her own. To her surprise, Kathryn clasped it, holding it for a moment before relaxing her grip. But their hands were still touching, and nothing could have compelled Seven to withdraw.

Revi came up after Lynne and joined her on the branch. “Well, Kathryn, you certainly didn’t come here for the view,” she said. “That is why most people climb trees, you know.”

“I came here for the view today.” Kathryn flashed a smile at her.

“Another perfect photo for the Starfleet recruitment posters,” said Lynne. “Starfleet’s newest hero and her most trusted staff, sitting in a tree like children. Or seriously regressed adults.”

“Personally I’ve found adulthood to be overrated,” said Revi. “Now that we’re home, I may do a little regressing myself.”

“I’ve spent the past four years working toward emotional maturity and now you want to regress?” Seven asked in pretended affront.

“Ooo, Revi, careful,” said Lynne. “Don’t piss off the Borg.”

“Hey, I’m Borg too.”

“Is this a competition?” asked Kathryn. “I had no idea there was such cachet in it.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” said Lynne in low tones. “At least one of the women in this tree is proud of her Borg uniqueness.”

Revi snorted. “I think several of the women in this tree are proud of their uniqueness. It’s not limited to the Borg types.”

Kathryn caught her eye. “Who are you excluding, Revi? Surely not yourself.”

Seven felt her partner’s embarrassment and smiled broadly, enjoying the gentle teasing. “You cannot exclude yourself,” she said. “You are as unique as any of us.”

“Exalted company, I’d say.” Lynne leaned over and bumped Revi with her shoulder. “I’m really glad you two came with us. It was damn hard to say goodbye to Tuvok after the reception, and B’Elanna and Tom. I know I’ll see them again, but it won’t be the same. And who knows if I’ll ever see Emily again, or Johnson and Slater, or any of the others. We’re all going different ways. So having you here is such a gift. It makes things not so hard.”

“I believe we should be the ones thanking you,” said Seven. “Neither of us has family we’re prepared to meet right now, much less stay with. Your invitation was very welcome.”

“I second that.” Revi bumped Lynne back. “We needed this at least as much as you did.”

“Aren’t we just a perfect little codependent group, then.” Lynne met Seven’s eyes and added, “Old term. It means people who are each emotionally dependent on the other.”

“Like symbiosis,” said Seven.

Lynne held her hand level and waggled it back and forth. “Eh…not really. In symbiosis both parties have an actual need for the service the other species provides. Codependency is usually emotionally unhealthy. More often than not, codependent people enable each other to avoid facing their real issues, so they go on functioning with the same old unaddressed problems.”

“Ah! Psychocircular matrix,” said Revi.

“Is that the name for it now?”

“Mm hm. A little more exact than your term. And no, we don’t have that problem.” Revi grinned at Kathryn. “In fact I think you and I have the opposite issue. You were so unwilling to enable me that you risked our friendship to open my eyes.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” said Kathryn. “It wasn’t that I was unwilling to enable you. I just saw you slipping away and couldn’t let it happen. It was more of a selfish thing.”

“Well, there’s a question,” said Lynne. “When we help our friends—or our partners—is it altruistic or selfish?”

“I believe that depends on the situation,” said Seven, who was thinking of Revi’s willingness to let her go with Arrabis. “Sometimes we make decisions based solely on what we think is best for the friend or partner, not for ourselves. And other times we’re thinking of our own happiness.”

“But if seeing our friend or partner happy makes us happy, then isn’t enabling that happiness selfish?” asked Kathryn.

“The basis of all life is selfishness,” said Revi. “Right down to the cellular level.”

“The Borg elevated that principle to an art form,” said Seven.

Kathryn briefly squeezed her hand. “That’s true on the level of the Collective, but not for individual drones. As a Borg you were prepared to give your life for the Collective. That’s altruism.”

“As a Borg I had no decision-making ability of my own. It’s not altruism if my actions were ordained by the Collective.”

“Besides,” added Revi, “the inherent selfishness of every species is simply a biological mechanism to further the survival of the individual’s genes first, and the species second. Borg drones can’t pass their genes to the next generation, so they act solely to further the survival of the species—the Collective. Which means it’s not altruism.”

“But when Seven came on board, she almost immediately began acting for the survival of her new collective, despite the fact that she had free will. That’s altruism.”

“No, that’s Seven,” said Revi, and Seven felt a warmth in her chest.

“Hear, hear.” Lynne raised her hand in an imaginary toast. “So, my selfish friends, I have a question. Kathryn and I are taking the opportunity to do some skiing while we’re in Colorado this week. And I would very selfishly like you to come along. What do you think? Does it sound like anything you’d enjoy?”

: Would you? :

Seven met Revi’s eyes. : I know you would. That’s all I need. :

: Being altruistic again? : Revi smiled. : The real question is, do you have any desire to go yourself, or is it all on my behalf? :

: Since I’ve never engaged in this activity, I can make no judgment. Which means I will base my choice on what makes you happy. Let’s go. :

Revi held her gaze for a second longer, and Seven shook her head. “We would be pleased to accompany you,” she said out loud, cutting off any further discussion.

“Good!” Lynne rocked on her branch happily. “It’ll be like Girls’ Weekend Out.”

“Don’t worry,” Kathryn told Seven. “I don’t know what that means either.”

Lynne rolled her eyes. “A female bonding tradition from my time. When the women ditched their boyfriends or husbands and went out together to have some real fun.”

“They couldn’t have real fun within their relationships?” asked Seven in confusion.

“Not this kind of fun.” Lynne grinned.

“I think we’re in trouble,” said Revi.

“Always,” answered Kathryn. “You didn’t think that would end just because we made it home, did you?”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 11

 

 

Gretchen grumbled to herself as she stared up at her bedroom ceiling. These days it was an even guess as to whether she’d get a full night’s sleep or not. If she could make it past 0400 or so, she would generally sleep through until morning. But if she came awake before then, she was doomed to toss and turn until dawn. She’d long since learned to make use of this time instead of trying to get back to sleep, but still resented the necessity.

Throwing the covers back with a gusty sigh, she quickly pulled on some warm clothes and padded into the hallway. Two doors down she paused, lifting a hand to rest it on the closed door of the guest room. Behind this door was a miracle, and most likely the reason her mind had not allowed her a full night’s sleep tonight. It hadn’t the previous two nights, either. Her daughter was here, in her own home, and she still could not quite trust it. Seven years of fear and grief could not be wiped away so easily. She had never accepted Kathryn’s death, even when so many well-meaning friends had encouraged her to move on, but by the same token she was finding it just as difficult to accept her presence. It was…surreal.

Feeling a bit like a voyeur but unable to stop herself, she carefully turned the knob and opened the door a crack. Moonlight filled the room; Kathryn had never been one to sleep with the blinds closed. A diagonal slash of silver light brought part of the bed into sharp relief, showing a single large hump under the comforter. Kathryn and Lynne were spooned together, their heads so close they could have shared the same pillow. Lynne was facing Kathryn’s back, her larger body wrapped around her partner, and Gretchen’s vision blurred with tears as she watched them. As a teenager, Kathryn had developed an indefinable reserve that Gretchen had never been able to breach, but here in this bed was the daughter she remembered; the young girl who craved comfort and attention and did not yet understand why she shouldn’t be vulnerable. Somehow Lynne had gotten past all the walls and moved straight into Kathryn’s heart, a feat that neither Justin Tighe nor Mark Johnson had ever achieved. Both had been good men whom Gretchen would have easily welcomed into her family, but she had never believed that either of them could truly reach her daughter. She hadn’t thought anyone could.

Her heart skipped a beat as Lynne suddenly raised her head and looked right at her.

“Gretchen? Is everything all right?” she whispered.

“Yes, fine, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.” Gretchen backed out and quietly shut the door, feeling foolish and guilty. She hurried downstairs and busied herself making a cup of tea, then closed her eyes when she heard footsteps on the stairs. A moment later Lynne appeared in the kitchen, fully dressed and looking more alert than anyone her age should at this hour.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Gretchen asked lightly.

“Nope. I was ready to get up anyway.” Lynne stepped next to her and pulled a second teacup from the cupboard. “Do you have enough water for two?”

“No, but I can remedy that.” She ordered up a cup of water from the replicator—one of the few things she regularly used it for—and added it to the kettle. “What’s your pleasure?”

“Hm. What am I in the mood for?” Lynne pulled open the drawer with the teas and began perusing the selection. “You have more teas in here than I’ve seen in a damned long time. This looks like my mom’s drawer.” Her body stilled for a moment before she reached in and pulled out a container. “Moroccan Mint. Holy shit, they still make Moroccan Mint.”

Gretchen looked at her closely before taking the tin from her hand. “Why don’t you have a seat and let me fix this for you?”

“Actually, I’d rather stay here.” She leaned against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. “There’s something about a kitchen counter. They’re just so inviting. But I’ll take you up on your offer to make my tea; thank you.”

They stood side by side in a comfortable silence as the water heated; a silence that remained unbroken until both were seated at the table with full teacups in front of them. Gretchen stirred her tea longer than necessary before picking up the cup and meeting Lynne’s eyes.

“Are you all right?” asked Lynne gently.

Taking a slow sip, Gretchen replaced her cup and shook her head. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I asked first.”

Her impulse was to dismiss the question, but the early morning hour, the stillness of the house, and the unexpected company in her sleeplessness lent an intimacy to the moment that allowed her to speak more openly than usual.

“In most ways I’m better than I’ve ever been. But in others I just feel…unsettled.”

Lynne nodded without comment and sipped her own tea.

“She’s different,” Gretchen said slowly. “I don’t know her anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I ever did.” She looked up. “Your mother was so fortunate. You two never stopped being best friends.”

Lynne smiled. “We had our moments. I think Mom would have preferred me to take a…safer path in life. And she wasn’t always happy with my other choices, either.”

“You had your moments, yes, but they were just moments. I think my moments with Kathryn turned into a lifetime. And I never figured out how it happened. It just seemed as if, all of a sudden, I couldn’t reach her anymore. She shut me out. She was a forty-year-old teenager.”

“She still is.” Lynne scooted her chair back slightly and extended her long legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankle. “Except that now she’s at the other end of it. She’s shouldered responsibilities that nobody should have to accept, but there’s a part of her that’s still a kid. We tease each other and have tickle fights, and she gets this look on her face that tells me she’s ready to play. I love that look. I love making her laugh, and she laughs so easily.”

“I wish I could see that more often,” said Gretchen wistfully. “I’m so glad you’ve brought that out in her. She needed you. I think she has for a long time.”

“She needs you, too.”

Gretchen made a noncommittal sound as she brought her teacup back to her lips, and Lynne’s expression sharpened.

“You think I’m just saying that to be nice? I’m not that diplomatic.”

That put a smile on Gretchen’s face. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I’m not. Ask Kathryn; I think it drives her to drink on occasion. She’s afraid to take me to formal gatherings. You should have seen the look on her face when I told Admiral Necheyev that life was too fucking short to play games.”

The laugh came out of Gretchen before she was even aware of it, shockingly loud in the silence of the house, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. After a few more giggles she took her hand away and said, “You’re right, I should have seen it. She probably wanted to beam you out on the spot.”

Lynne smiled. “Probably. But the Admiral seems to appreciate people who stand up to her, so it worked out. This time. And Kathryn does need you. I know you two haven’t had the easiest relationship, but I also know that she’s trying hard to change that, and she sees you trying too. Neither one of you is doing this alone.”

“I don’t know, Lynne.” Gretchen sighed. “On Voyager we connected in a way we never had before. But these last three days—she’s reserved again. Not nearly so much as she was before, but…she’s certainly not as open as she was on her ship.”

“She’s spent the last three days in her childhood home. Everyone turns into a kid again when they go home. It’s Human nature. You connected on her turf, Gretchen. But she’s on your turf now.”

“Do you think that’s it?”

Lynne hesitated. “I think that’s part of it. And part of it is that you and she haven’t really had any alone time.”

“Well, it’s true that Seven and Revi—”

“I’m not talking about Seven and Revi.”

Gretchen looked at her in confusion. “But I can’t think she’d act any differently around you. You’re the one who—” She stopped, eyes widening. “You mean Phoebe?” At Lynne’s confirming nod, she put an elbow on the table and rested her forehead against her hand. “Oh. Oh, shit. I never…” Looking up, she said, “But I thought Kathryn would want her whole family around her.”

“She does. Just not at the expense of time alone with you.” Lynne pulled her legs in and sat up straight. “May I be tactless for a moment?”

“Please.”

“Phoebe is an attention-getter. I’ve read between the lines of what Kathryn’s told me about her family, and it’s pretty obvious that while Kathryn was all about self-control and discipline and forming herself in an image she thought her father would want, Phoebe has been all about following her own path regardless of outside influence. That’s not to say anything against her; in fact I’d have to characterize myself that way, too. But she’s the sort of person who draws attention to herself wherever she goes. And Kathryn fades into the background.”

“Are you kidding me? Captain Kathryn Janeway in the background? She’s one of the most famous people in the entire Federation right now.”

“I’m not talking about the Federation, I’m talking about your kitchen. Where family dynamics keep playing out no matter what’s happened out there. Phoebe’s here every minute of the day until we go to bed and she goes back to her own house.” Lynne leaned forward. “She’s had you all to herself for seven years. Give Kathryn a little of that special time.”

Gretchen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’ve wanted that special time too. But I didn’t want to take away from her time with everyone else. She’s had so little opportunity to relax; I thought it was doing her good to just be comfortable and surrounded by people who love her.”

“It is.” Lynne reached across the table and took her hand. “Don’t kick yourself. It’s doing Kathryn a world of good being here, and eating your home-cooked meals—and oh god, your brownies—and having the time to wind down. Don’t fault yourself for what you’ve offered her. Just do what you wanted in the first place. Spend some time alone with her. She’s wanted it too.” She squeezed Gretchen’s hand and sat back to sip her tea. In the silence Gretchen heard Molly shaking her head in the living room, her soft ears making a distinctive flopping sound until she settled down again.

Lifting her cup, she took a thoughtful sip and said, “What an irony. All this time I’ve been trying not to be selfish in my need for time with my daughter, and now you’re telling me that’s exactly the opposite of what I should be doing.”

Lynne raised an eyebrow. “Seems to me you’re the type who always tries not to be selfish. Get over that one, Gretchen. The rest of us have.”

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter, and this time Gretchen didn’t try to keep herself quiet. “I can see why Kathryn laughs more often,” she said, still chuckling.

“Well, it works both ways.”

“I know. She’s told me.” She used her napkin to wipe up a drop of tea that had fallen from her spoon, then smiled at her companion. “You really gave me a turn when I was peeking in your room, you know. I hadn’t expected you to be awake.”

“I’m usually awake around this time.” Lynne tapped her head. “Borg implants don’t need sleep the way Human brains do. Four hours and I’m good to go.”

“‘Good to go’ being a relative term,” said Gretchen. “How long can you last without recharging in your alcove?”

“Revi says I shouldn’t go more than three days, four at the outside. We do have a portable regeneration unit, but it’s not a permanent replacement for the alcoves. So yes, I’m still tied to the ship right now. All three of us are.”

Gretchen nodded; Kathryn had already told her that tomorrow would have to be their last day for a while. They had to return to Voyager that night so that Lynne, Seven and Revi could recharge, and the next day they’d be in Colorado.

“I’ll miss you when you go back. It’s been wonderful having you here. And if I’d realized that your sleeping patterns coincided with mine, I’d have issued a standing invitation for tea in the kitchen. Normally I sit down here alone with a book. It’s nice to have your company.”

“It’s nice to have yours. On Voyager somebody was always awake no matter what time it was. It’s been a little different here.”

“What have you been doing? I was down here last night and didn’t see you.”

“The first night I came down to the living room and read a book. Last night I went for a walk.”

Gretchen almost missed her saucer as she set her cup down. “Outside? In the dark? Lynne, you don’t even know the area. What if you’d been caught in a snowstorm? Even people familiar with this place have gotten in trouble when they weren’t careful. An Indiana winter is nothing to mess around with.”

“Well, now I know where Kathryn gets her protective streak.” Lynne’s smile crinkled her eyes. “I do know the area. I saw it from the hovercraft when we arrived.”

“And that’s all you need?” asked Gretchen incredulously.

“Borg implant, remember?”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means I have an enhanced capacity for a lot of things, and one of them is making mental maps based on what I see. Since I got an aerial view of the area when we came here, it made for an easy map.”

“You know,” said Gretchen, “that’s a pretty handy little device you have there.”

“Sometimes. I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to get one, but I have to admit it really does have its benefits.”

“What else does it do? If you don’t mind my asking?”

“No, I don’t mind. It’s kind of like a giant computer database: full of answers, but I have to ask the question. It’s not like all that knowledge is at the forefront of my mind all the time. Actually, I experienced that when my implant first came on line, and let me tell you, it’s a killer. But as soon as I need to know an answer, it’s right there. I also have an enormously enhanced memory, though mine still isn’t eidetic like Seven’s. And I have the personal knowledge of others, which took a while to get used to.”

“You mean you have…other people’s memories?”

Lynne nodded. “In a way. The Collective strips all emotions from them; they consider that to be useless data. But they keep some of the context intact, because in many cases a memory contains more powerful knowledge when it’s in context. When I call up some bit of information, I never know if it’s going to be simple data or an actual memory.”

Gretchen tried to imagine it and failed. “I can certainly see where that would have taken some getting used to.”

“Mm hm. And think how much harder it is for Revi. As a doctor, a lot of her knowledge comes in the form of memories. And she knows precisely how those memories were acquired.”

“My god.” She knew the basics, of course. Kathryn had given her a quick rundown of all three of her new guests, but she’d never thought beyond the general concept. “Poor Revi. It must feel like everything she does as a doctor comes with a Pyrrhic cost.”

“That’s a pretty accurate description. And yet she has so much more potential for good because of it. She can do things no other doctor can. I know without a doubt that she’s the only person who could have saved me after my assimilation, and I’m pretty sure no one else could have saved me after Terellia. Starfleet is going to be falling over itself to keep her in the ranks, and I suspect other organizations will be lining up their recruitment packages as well. She told me yesterday that the Vulcan Medical Academy has already made an offer. And it’s a tempting one, because Vulcan is one place she could go without fear of being judged. Seven would fit in very well on Vulcan, too.”

“That would hurt Kathryn,” said Gretchen, almost to herself. “She’s not ready.”

“I know.”

Gretchen met her eyes. “Neither are you.”

Lynne inclined her head without speaking.

“Which reminds me,” said Gretchen, “you never answered me. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Lynne suddenly discovered that her tea had cooled and took several sips. “I’ve been thoroughly enjoying being back on Earth, and eating myself into a coma. Now I understand why Kathryn always raved about your brownies.”

“Does that sort of overt redirection work on Kathryn?”

A sheepish smile crossed her face. “Only when she’s distracted.”

“I’m not distracted.”

“So I noticed.” Lynne looked down into her tea, and for a moment Gretchen thought she wasn’t going to answer. “I really don’t know,” she said slowly. “How do I measure it? I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling. There are all sorts of guides for getting through the death of a loved one, but so far I haven’t found any guides for getting past your own death.”

“Good point.” She watched Lynne stir tea that didn’t need stirring.

Dropping the spoon on the saucer with a clink, Lynne said, “I think I’m still in limbo. I mean, you’d guess that I’d be feeling profound relief, or profound happiness, or profound something. But I don’t. God knows I’m glad to be alive, don’t get me wrong. But I’d given up, Gretchen. I accepted my death because I had to. I was furious at having to leave Kathryn, hating the men who had done that to us, grieving for what I could see in Kathryn’s face…but for all that, I had to accept the fact that I was going to die. And once you’ve wrapped your brain around that, it’s kind of hard to unwrap it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m alive. But the strongest emotion I have about it is for Kathryn’s sake, not mine.”

“Hmm.” Gretchen propped her chin on her fist. “Well, you haven’t been alive very long. Maybe it’ll sink in.”

“Maybe. But in the meantime I’m finding it pretty difficult to care much about the things I’m supposed to be worrying about. The Foundation doesn’t seem all that important anymore. I can’t drum up any interest in it.”

“Do you have to take it over?”

“I’ve been asking myself that very thing. I had myself all convinced that I owed it to my parents, but now…” She shook her head. “I’m not so sure. They would have wanted me to be happy, and they know that sitting in an office is not what makes me happy.”

“Then don’t.”

“I have to. I have to deal with it at least long enough to redirect the funding back into space exploration research.”

“But then you can walk away, right? Put it in the hands of capable managers and let them do their jobs. Seems to me that Alison Necheyev is already taking care of most of it for you.”

“Alison.” Lynne ran a hand through her hair. “Now there’s a woman who intimidates the shit out of me.”

Gretchen couldn’t stop the snort, nor the chuckle as Lynne turned a look of confusion on her. “Good heavens, don’t you have the slightest concept of how intimidating you are?”

Lynne rolled her eyes. “I’m not. Not like that. The woman single-handedly runs one of the largest foundations in the quadrant. She’s also a physics theoretician, is apparently on a first-name basis with everyone who’s anyone and oh yes, let’s not forget, she knows her way around legal contracts. I couldn’t get past the first two pages of that mess she sent me. It’s written in a foreign language. Not even the Collective knows Federation legalese; I guess they didn’t assimilate any lawyers.”

“Uh huh. You don’t think Dr. Necheyev might be intimidated by acquiring an employer who survived two years in the Delta Quadrant, Borg assimilation, and outright death?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Well, you’ve got that much right, at least.”

“You know,” said Lynne, “right now I’m seeing a lot of Kathryn in you.”

Gretchen raised her cup. “I’ll take that as a fine compliment.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 12

 

 

Kathryn took a leisurely shower, finding herself reluctant to finish up and get downstairs. She’d woken up alone again, and was feeling a bit peevish about it. It didn’t do any good to remind herself that it had been her choice to go to sleep with Lynne rather than wake up with her. With Lynne only needing four hours of sleep, it had to be one or the other. Still, couldn’t she just once be there in the morning too? Just to surprise her wife, who was feeling out of sorts and…

“Needy,” she muttered to herself as she rinsed her hair. “God, I’m needy today. Snap out of it, Katie.”

As pep talks went, it wasn’t a particularly inspired one, but it did the trick. She finished her shower and was dried and dressed a few minutes later. The scents wafting up from the kitchen were just as mouthwatering as they had been every morning since their arrival; this time she was certain it was French toast. She sniffed appreciatively as she descended the stairs.

“I smell cinnamon and vanilla,” she announced in the kitchen doorway. “At this rate you’ll never get me to leave.”

“Ah, you’ve figured out my scheme.” Gretchen poured a mug of coffee and handed it over.

“It seems to work on Phoebe as well,” said Revi. She and Phoebe were sitting at the table, already finishing up their breakfasts. “She never even got out of walking distance.”

“Hey.” Phoebe pointed a fork at Revi. “Not all of us think flying all over hell and gone with nothing but replicator food is a desirable career path. I’ll have you know that I’m envied throughout the art world for my lifestyle choices.”

“What lifestyle choices?” Kathryn pulled out a chair and sat on the other side of the table. “That would imply that you actually made some.”

“Funny, big sister. And you think you’re all that different? You don’t make choices; you just go wherever Starfleet tells you.”

Revi looked from one to the other with widened eyes. “Whoa. Who blew the whistle this morning?”

“I don’t know,” said Gretchen from the stove, “but it had better stop now. Ladies, if you can’t be nice I’m chucking both of you outside. The path to the guest house needs shoveling again; it snowed last night. You can work out your frustrations on that.”

Kathryn looked into her coffee mug, then up at her sister. “Sorry,” she said shortly. “I’m a little on edge this morning.”

Phoebe stared. “Oh my god. Did you just apologize to me? Wait, wait—could you repeat that? I’m not sure I actually got it all the first time; I was too much in shock.”

That was all it took to push Kathryn beyond her social abilities for the day. She stood up, coffee mug in hand. “News flash, Phoebe. I’ve been gone for seven years. Maybe I’m not the same person you remember. And you know what? All I ever did for those seven years was make choices. Goddamned hard choices, every goddamned day, and I can never take any of them back.” She had a glimpse of wide eyes and an open mouth before turning to meet her mother’s startled gaze. “If you’d like to hold off on my breakfast for a while, Mom, I’ll take care of that path for you. Is the shovel still where it always was?”

“Yes...”

“All right.” Kathryn went to the cupboard, pulled out her Academy travel cup and poured her coffee into it, ignoring the utter silence in the kitchen. “Where are Lynne and Seven?”

“Out for a walk,” said Revi. “They’re at the creek now. Apparently the fractal patterns in the ice are particularly fascinating.”

Kathryn smiled; she knew which of the two was finding those patterns fascinating. Sealing the cup, she glanced at Revi. “Will you ask Seven to tell Lynne that I’m up?”

“She already knows.”

“Thanks.” She was out of the kitchen before anyone could say anything else. Throwing on her coat, she sat on the hallway bench and began strapping on her boots, hearing low voices in the kitchen. Phoebe’s rose above the rest as she protested, “But I didn’t mean it that way…” With a vicious yank, Kathryn tightened the last strap and was out the door.

The temperature had dropped considerably overnight, and the shock of the cold air gave her pause. She stood for a moment on the porch, gazing at the pristine landscape, newly blanketed in white—except for two sets of boot prints leading into the fields. A smile crossed her face as she saw the neat lines of prints suddenly degenerate into prints facing all directions, along with scatter marks indicating where snowballs had landed. She’d hate to be between those two in a snowball fight.

The silence and cold had already helped to clear her head, and she was feeling considerably more settled as she found the shovel, headed around the corner of the house, and began digging. After ten minutes she had to take off her coat and drape it over a shrub; ten minutes after that she knew she’d be taking a second shower. She’d forgotten just how arduous shoveling snow could be.

A familiar sshusshh of the door alerted her to impending company, and she hoped it wasn’t Phoebe. She listened to the footsteps crunching in the snow, but did not pause in her efforts until her mother’s voice said, “That’s hungry work. Care for a piece of toast?”

Kathryn chunked the shovel into the snow and turned, ready to defend herself against what was sure to come. But her mother’s face bore no expression of censure, and she was holding out a napkin with two pieces of French toast rolled into cylinders and fixed with small picks.

“Thank you.” Kathryn took the napkin and bit into one of the warm toasts, startled by the flavors that exploded into her mouth. “Oh, yum. Banana syrup?”

“You always did prefer it over maple.”

“Still do.” She wolfed down both toasts without so much as a nod toward manners; after all, if she’d taken any longer they would have gotten cold. “And the replicators never did get it right. Neelix tried it once; after that I was pretty much turned off it forever.” She folded the napkin, wiped her mouth and tucked it into her jacket pocket.

“Why on earth did you keep him in the mess hall?”

“Because nobody else wanted to do it, and he loved it, and after a while he actually did come up with some decent meals.”

Gretchen shook her head. “Maybe Starfleet should send him out for remedial training before inflicting him on any other crews.”

“Good idea. I’ll suggest it.”

They watched each other in silence, and Kathryn tensed again. “Listen, Mom—”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” Gretchen interrupted.

Kathryn was caught with her mouth open. “Ah…all right. Yes.”

She put her coat back on, following her mother out to the road. Once there she moved up beside her as they walked westward, neither saying a word until they’d passed the first knoll and the Janeway house dropped out of sight.

“I’m going to miss you when you leave,” said Gretchen.

“We’re not really leaving. We’ll just be in Colorado for a few days, and then I’ve got the publicity tour and the final debriefings. Those won’t keep me in San Francisco overnight. We can be back here most nights for dinner as long as you’d like to have us.”

“I know. But it won’t be the same as having you here all day. And maybe that’s best for you.”

Kathryn gave her mother a sidelong glance. “What does that mean?”

“Just that you always seem happiest when you have something to do. I was hoping these last few days would help you relax, but now I’m not sure that was really what you needed.”

“It was, Mom. God, you have no idea how much I needed it. Just the chance to sleep in, three days in a row, and wake up every morning to the smells coming out of that kitchen—it’s been priceless. I dreamed about that in the Delta Quadrant.”

“Thank you for telling me that. It means a great deal.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

For a few moments there was no sound but the crunching of their boots in the snow. Once again it was Gretchen who broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking about that lately…how I’ve spent so much of my life guessing or making assumptions about the needs of my family. I was never certain what your father needed, either.”

After a startled pause, Kathryn said carefully, “You didn’t talk about it?”

“In the beginning we didn’t have to. We both wanted the same things. It seemed as if we were always on the same wavelength. But then Starfleet took him away for longer and longer periods of time, and when he was home it felt…well, it felt a bit like he was just docked here for a few days before taking off again. We weren’t on the same wavelength anymore. But we’d never really developed the communication skills to work around that. I did my best to guess what he needed and provide it for him, and he always seemed to appreciate it, but in a distant sort of way.”

“I felt that distance too,” said Kathryn. “I guess it never occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one.”

“You were young. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about anyone but yourself at that age. I was. And I’m ashamed to say that I never realized your father’s preoccupation was having such an effect on you. He told me about your discussion in the study, when you finally said that you just wanted him to be proud of you. His heart was broken, Kathryn. He loved you so very much, and he realized that night that he’d been failing you. We both had. There could not have been two parents in the quadrant more proud of their daughter than we were of you, and somehow we’d failed to show it to you, and you’d managed to grow up and get a commission and still not know. He and I had a long talk after that, and got a lot of our own issues out into the open. I don’t know if it would have ever happened if you hadn’t had the courage to speak first. And then…he died. And everything went to hell. But I always had one thing to hold close to my heart, and that is that he did not die without knowing precisely how I felt about him. Nor did I have to wonder how he felt about me. And you were the reason why.”

Kathryn stared straight ahead, unable to think of anything to say and feeling distinctly uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken.

“In these last few days I’ve watched you, and I see so much of him in you,” Gretchen continued. “But you’ve taken a lot of his best characteristics and avoided some of the worst. Your relationship with Lynne is very different from mine with Edward. And that’s something I’m very glad to see.”

Frowning, Kathryn kicked an ice clod away. “I never knew you were unhappy in your marriage.”

Gretchen reached for her arm and pulled her to a stop. “No. That’s not what I said, and don’t ever think it. I loved your father very much. But he and I…we made too many assumptions over the years, and we got out of the habit of checking in with each other to see if those assumptions were true. I don’t see that happening with you and Lynne.”

Kathryn managed a smile. “Lynne would never let it happen.”

With a knowing smile of her own, Gretchen said, “I had a chat with her last night, in the kitchen. That woman does not like talking about herself when it comes to anything negative. I had to drag a few things out. So don’t sell yourself short. That’s not happening in your marriage because you’re not letting it happen.”

Something eased inside Kathryn’s chest, and she resumed their walk with a lighter step. “Actually it’s both of us,” she said. “Lynne’s very good at dragging things out of me, too. But in the beginning her reticence was one of the biggest stumbling blocks to our relationship. We worked on it, and we even wrote a promise of openness and honesty into our marriage vows. The worst times we’ve had in our marriage were the times we didn’t keep that vow.”

“I wish Edward and I had had the foresight to do that. We just assumed that love was all we needed. You and Lynne have been so much smarter. I’m in awe, Kathryn. Truly. And I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Kathryn was a little in awe herself; she couldn’t remember ever having a conversation like this with her mother.

“So if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a page from your book.” Kathryn looked over in surprise, but Gretchen’s gaze was fixed on the horizon as she continued, “I’ve made too many assumptions in my life. And it’s such a habit that I do it without even noticing. It took Lynne to point out that I was doing it yet again, with you. But I’m hoping that I’m not too old to learn from my mistakes. I don’t want to be guessing about you, and getting it wrong, and losing any part of this connection we’ve made. It’s taken us too long to get here. Do you think…” She trailed off.

When the pause grew awkward, Kathryn prompted, “Do I think what?”

Gretchen met her eyes. “Do you think you could treat me with the same honesty you give Lynne? So that I can stop guessing? I want to be here for you, Kathryn. But you’re going to have to help me learn how.”

Unsettled by the naked vulnerability in her expression, Kathryn broke their gaze and focused on the snowy road ahead. This simply did not fit with her understanding of her mother. For that matter, it didn’t fit with her understanding of their relationship; neither of them had ever been in the habit of dropping her guard. Since the moment she’d arrived on Voyager, Gretchen had been acting out of character, and Kathryn found herself wary of the changes.

Then again, wasn’t Gretchen having the same problem? Trying to fit her daughter into an old understanding that didn’t work anymore?

If it ever did, she thought, and suddenly understood what her mother was telling her.

“I can’t guarantee that I can break a lifetime of habit all at once,” she said. “But I’m willing to try.” She turned her head and saw the dawning smile on Gretchen’s face. “On one condition,” she added, and the smile dropped.

“What’s that?”

“You do the same for me.”

The smile returned in blinding force. “Deal,” said Gretchen, and held out her hand as they walked. Kathryn took it, squeezing it briefly and feeling her own hand gripped in response.

“So tell me, are you getting what you need right now?” she asked, letting go reluctantly and putting her hand back in her warm pocket.

“My daughter is home. That’s all I’ve ever needed.”

“Mom…” She shook her head. “Don’t flunk on your very first try. If you were getting everything you needed we wouldn’t be out here walking through shin-deep snow for no particular reason.”

“Getting some time alone with you doesn’t count as a real reason?”

“Is that why you asked me to come with you?”

“Is that so surprising?” Gretchen scuffed her boot through a small lump of snow. “Yes, that’s why I asked. I’d been assuming…again…that you needed your family around you. Lynne pointed out last night that maybe you needed a little less quantity and a little more quality in terms of family time. The ironic part was that I wanted some time alone with you, but it seemed like a selfish thought. Lynne told me I should get over worrying about being selfish.”

Kathryn laughed. “Wish I’d heard that conversation.”

“No, you don’t. Your ears would have burned too much.”

“You spent the night talking about me?”

“Among other things. And other people.”

“Ah.” Kathryn knew precisely what that meant, and though her mother said nothing, she felt the need to acknowledge it. “I’m sorry. Seven years away and it only took three days for Phoebe to get under my skin. I can beat the Borg and even species 8472, but apparently I can’t beat old mental programming. She just…gets to me.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You went from seven years in charge, with the respect of everyone on your crew, to…here, with your little sister showing you the same disrespect she always has. I’m sure there had to be some sort of mental disconnect happening.”

“God. That is it, isn’t it? The disrespect. Before it was just Phoebe being her usual annoying self. And now it’s Phoebe being her usual annoying self when I—” She stopped, unable to finish the thought out loud.

“When you deserve better?” guessed Gretchen. “Let me tell you something. You’ve always deserved respect. You’ve worked hard for it and you’ve earned it. And you do have it from Phoebe; she’s damned proud of you. But she’s having a hard time right now, too. She’s the younger sister of the famous Captain Janeway. She can’t go anywhere without people wanting to know about you, what you’re really like, how it was to grow up with you…on and on. She hasn’t said as much, but I think Phoebe feels as if she’s vanishing into your shadow.”

“And the best way to get rid of a shadow is to cut down the tree that creates it,” said Kathryn in dawning understanding.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way. But…there may be some truth in it.”

“I don’t know if I can do anything about that, Mom. I don’t have any control over the way Starfleet is handling this. If I did, there certainly wouldn’t be any damned publicity tour. God, they’re actually planning parades.”

“Want a suggestion from your mother?”

“That depends on the suggestion.”

Gretchen laughed. “You have been on your own too long. You’ve become instinctively careful. All I was going to suggest was that you visit your sister’s gallery. Let her show you what she’s proud of.”

They walked in silence, their breath pluming in the crisp air. Kathryn looked around at the familiar landscape, mentally marking the boundaries between properties she’d known all her life. The landscape was a welcome constant in her homecoming, when everything else seemed just a little different.

“You know, it’s funny,” she said. “The most traumatic part of coming home has been the changes. But so far as I can see, Phoebe hasn’t changed at all. Maybe I should be grateful for that.”

“Oh, she’s changed. She’s a little older, a little better at knowing what she wants, and a tiny bit better at picking her lovers. But not much.”

Kathryn snorted, a great puff of white vapor giving visual emphasis to her rather impolite response.

“But as far as loving you, no, that part hasn’t changed. Unfortunately neither has her way of showing it. And it probably never will.”

Gretchen’s eyes were still on the road ahead, but Kathryn felt an arm go around her waist. Just as a matter of balance, she had to put an arm around her mother’s shoulders, and the smile that came unbidden to her face could not be wiped away.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 13

 

 

“Welcome back, Captain Janeway.” The young ensign stood so stiffly at attention that Kathryn thought she heard his spine crack.

“Thank you, Ensign.” She nodded at him and walked into the corridor, muttering, “Feels like I’ve never been gone.”

“It does feel a bit odd,” Revi said from behind her.

“Because we beamed in,” said Lynne. “It’s too familiar. If we’d walked up the ramp we’d have more of a sense of change. Sorry, folks, that’s my fault.”

“That is incorrect. You can’t be blamed for security measures made necessary by an outside threat.”

“Seven’s right.” Kathryn caught her wife’s hand as they walked. “Stop thinking in those terms.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard when we’re skulking around like fugitives,” said Lynne.

They were back aboard Voyager, after bidding goodbye to Gretchen and Phoebe at the Bloomington transport station. With prior Starfleet clearance, they’d beamed directly aboard the ship via a relay link. Walking through these familiar corridors, it was difficult to believe they’d spent the last four days in Indiana. But the stiff-necked ensign in the transporter room was not a member of her crew, and Kathryn knew she was unlikely to run into any familiar faces tonight. By now almost all of her crew had packed up their belongings and departed for their homes, whether here on Earth or elsewhere in the quadrant. Though the officers and all of the Maquis crew had been required to remain within recall distance of Starfleet Headquarters, everyone else had been given free transport to the destination of their choice. Kathryn had checked in with Starfleet’s database from Indiana, and knew precisely who had gone where. It felt too sudden, too anticlimactic; but then again what did she expect? That her crew would hang around San Francisco for a few weeks, waxing nostalgic about their adventures before wandering off? She herself had made a beeline for her mother’s house the moment the reception had ended.

“Speak for yourself; I’m not skulking,” said Revi as they arrived in front of the turbolift. “I’m just taking the swiftest and most convenient route from Bloomington to here.”

“Thanks, Revi.” The ‘lift doors opened, and Lynne led them in. “But you know, I’d have enjoyed something a little more leisurely and scenic. For god’s sake, we’re back on Earth and I haven’t seen anything except Starfleet Headquarters and Kathryn’s farm.”

“You saw the Bloomington transport station,” Seven pointed out.

Lynne shot her a poisonous look. “Deck eight.”

“Belay that,” said Kathryn. “Deck two.” Three pairs of eyes turned to her in surprise, and she gave them a smile. “Unless you have somewhere else you need to be, I thought we’d go to the mess hall and have a drink while we look at the view.”

It worked; Lynne’s eyes brightened. “I’m in.”

Revi’s grin said that she knew exactly what Kathryn was doing. “Me too.”

“Now that the idea has come up, I find myself craving a Hamilton gin and tonic,” said Seven.

“Okay, I forgive you for the transport station comment,” said Lynne magnanimously. “A gin and tonic sounds perfect.”

The mess hall was dark and abandoned, but as soon as they set the lights to half intensity and sat down with their drinks, the room took on a feeling of cozy familiarity. The wall of viewports offered a spectacular view of the San Francisco skyline, the bay, and the sparkling lights of the opposite shore.

“You know,” said Lynne, “it does my heart a lot of good to see that bridge. I look at that and it feels like I’m still in my old time.”

“It’s not the same bridge, though,” said Kathryn.

“I know. It was rebuilt after the earthquake of 2168.”

“Your Borg information is out of date. This isn’t that bridge, either. Remember the Breen attack? Dominion War?”

“Oh, right. Jesus, I forgot. They flattened Starfleet Headquarters and destroyed the bridge. You know, that’s a hard one to wrap my mind around. Earth under attack by aliens.”

“First successful alien attack in two hundred years,” said Revi. “The last was during the Earth-Romulan War. And it could have been so much worse; the Breen warships were all stopped before they reached Earth. All the damage was done by smaller fighters. If a single warship had gotten through, there wouldn’t even be a San Francisco anymore, just a crater.”

There was a short silence as they contemplated the prospect.

“Do you know that there are thirty-year-old captains commanding ships all over Starfleet now?” asked Kathryn. “We lost so many officers in the Dominion War that they were handing out promotions like candy. When I made captain at thirty, it was an accomplishment. Now it’s…normal.”

“‘Normal’ is subjective,” said Seven. “A quantitatively useless term. ‘Normal’ becomes whatever it is defined to be at the moment.”

“Well, at no moment in Starfleet history was it ever normal for thirty to be the average age of a captain.”

“Do you feel guilty, Kathryn?” Revi looked at her in complete seriousness. “For not being here? I mean, I know it’s ridiculous and it’s not as if any of us would have chosen to be where we ended up, but…when I read about the Dominion War, I felt guilty. A lot of people I worked with died. And I wasn’t there.”

“I lost a lot of colleagues, too.” Kathryn sipped her whiskey and soda thoughtfully. “And yes, I did feel guilty when the news first reached us. But that was two and a half years and one lifetime ago. We fought our own wars with no help and no support; I won’t feel guilty for not fighting this one.”

“So far as I know, my parents were here during the attack,” said Revi. “They weren’t on the casualty lists—I checked—but I don’t know if they lost the bar. It’s still in the San Francisco directory, so if it was destroyed, they rebuilt it. It’s amazing to look at this view now and realize that a lot of what we’re seeing is less than three years old.”

“Are you going to see them, Revi?” asked Lynne.

“Eventually. Seven and I have agreed to prop each other up through our respective family encounters. I’m not sure which of us is looking forward to it the least.”

“You are,” said Seven. “At least I know that my Aunt Irene wants to see me.”

“Good point.” Revi took a deep draught of her drink.

“Wait a minute,” said Lynne. “How do you know your parents don’t want to see you if you haven’t called them?”

“Because I know my parents.” Revi’s voice was flat.

“Maybe you don’t. It’s been eleven years; people change.”

“That’s precisely the point. I’ve changed, into the one thing my father hated most. Come on, Lynne, I hid my marriage to Steph because of his hatred for telepaths. Prejudice like that doesn’t just go away. And once he finds out that not only am I engaged to another telepath, but I’ve been modified into one myself—” She waved her hand. “The best thing I can probably expect is that he’ll slam the door in my face. And my mother will be standing behind him, looking at me sadly but not lifting a damned finger to stop him.”

“Surely he would draw a distinction between a Betazoid and a modified Human,” said Kathryn. “My understanding of that kind of prejudice is that people hate telepaths because they fear them, and the fear is personal. But you can’t read anyone’s mind but Seven’s.”

“And mine, if she wants,” interjected Lynne.

“If you want,” said Revi. “You know I’d never activate that link without your permission.”

“I know.” They smiled at each other in recognition of how hard fought that trust had been. It wasn’t too long ago that Lynne had been terrified at the prospect of anyone inside her mind.

“Okay, you can read two minds instead of one,” said Kathryn. “My point remains the same: you are not a personal threat to your father, and neither is Seven. Surely, once he understands that, he’ll accept you. For god’s sake, it’s not like you volunteered to be assimilated.”

“That’s what I love about you, Kathryn. You’re so optimistic.”

“Revi did not choose to be Borg,” said Seven. “But she has chosen to keep her internal transceiver active, as have I. As has Lynne, for that matter. It’s likely that when her father learns that she could be normal—” she paused, a tiny smile crossing her lips in acknowledgment of the word— “but prefers not to be, he will be repulsed.”

“More so than if I’d been born with the ability,” added Revi. “Choosing not to get rid of it will make it worse in his eyes.”

“But aren’t you overlooking the possibility that he might just be glad you’re alive?” asked Kathryn.

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Lynne. “Yes, he’s been a prejudiced bastard in the past, but he thought you were dead, Revi. Having a daughter rise up out of the grave is a pretty powerful inducement to change. Maybe he’ll consider it a miracle of the gods.”

“Maybe. The truth is, that thought is the only thing that could induce me to knock on his door. Otherwise I wouldn’t bother. I almost didn’t anyway.” She raised her glass toward Kathryn. “You’re the reason I’m taking the chance.”

“I am?”

“Well, not you individually. You and your family. Seeing the three of you interacting made me hope. If there’s even a possibility that I can recover some tiny piece of what you have, I’d like to try.”

Kathryn reached across the table and laid a hand on her arm. “You already have a piece of that. You’re part of my family too, Revi. You and Seven both. I’d never say this in hearing range of my mother, but I’m closer to you two than I am to my own sister.”

“I know.” Revi covered her hand and held it there, a soft smile on her face. “But I guess I’m greedy. I’d like more if I can get it.”

“Hear hear.” Lynne raised her own glass. “To family.”

“To family,” they echoed before drinking.

“Is this our new toast?” asked Seven. “We used to say ‘to the journey.’ What do we say now that the journey is over?”

Lynne shook her head. “Don’t be so literal. In my experience, if you’re living right, the journey is never over.”

“That’s the truth,” agreed Kathryn. “Maybe we should toast to the ongoing journey.”

“That sounds a bit awkward,” said Revi. “How about ‘to a journey without end’?”

“No, that sounds like we’re hoping for immortality. I already have that.” Lynne shot a half-smile toward Kathryn, who really wasn’t certain how to respond.

“How about our original toast?” she said. “The one we used in Voyager’s early years: to the adventure.”

They looked at each other. “To the adventure,” they said, and four glasses clinked together.

 

 

-----

 

 

Kathryn settled into her bed, feeling an overwhelming sense of displacement. Since she and Lynne hadn’t packed up their quarters, there was no sign in her surroundings of the reality of their location. Even Lynne’s absence felt normal; it was just her night to regenerate. Unless she looked out her viewports, she could easily convince herself that Voyager was simply orbiting a planet, or at station-keeping somewhere, still in the Delta Quadrant.

But then there was the view. No star streaks, no planet, no darkness of space. Instead, the lights of San Francisco shone on her, a jarring proof of Voyager’s grounding, and she could not understand why she felt so alone. What was wrong with her? She’d done everything she wanted. She’d brought her crew home; she’d brought her ship back not only unharmed but technologically enhanced; she’d brought enough data to keep Federation scientists busy for decades. She’d even saved the lives of three very special people. Yet here she was, at the scene of her greatest triumph, and everything felt wrong.

“You’re just feeling needy,” she muttered out loud. “If Lynne were here you’d be fine.”

For some strange reason, that knowledge made her feel even worse.

 

 

-----

 

 

“It’s like a ghost ship,” said Lynne as they entered the alcove unit. “I can’t get used to everyone being gone.”

“Welcome to my world,” said Seven, using one of Lynne’s own phrases and earning a startled look.

“God, I didn’t think about that. You’ve been through this before, when Kathryn severed you from the Collective.”

“Yes, but my experience wasn’t precisely the same thing.”

“It was worse, actually,” said Revi. “You didn’t just lose the comfortable familiarity of your external environment; you lost everything familiar about your mind as well.”

“So did you,” Seven pointed out. “In reverse.”

“You know,” said Lynne, “I think this is part of the reason Kathryn feels closer to you two than to Phoebe. She shares blood and a childhood with Phoebe, but she shares experiences with you that no one else can possibly understand. There are things we know that simply can’t be explained to anyone who hasn’t been a part of the journey.”

“There are things this entire crew knows that can’t be explained,” said Revi. “The psychological reality is, we were at war. Everyone who was with Kathryn from the beginning was at war for seven years. Except it wasn’t a normal war; it was a war on the run, with constantly shifting enemies and no clearly trustworthy allies. That’s not something anyone can understand who wasn’t there. And that’s precisely why Kathryn wanted counseling available for her crew.”

“How many will take advantage of it?” wondered Seven.

“Not enough,” said Revi. “But it’s good to know that those who want it will have it available.”

“So when is your first appointment?” asked Lynne.

Revi shared a glance with Seven. “Next week. We’re seeing Deanna Troi.”

“Good for you.” Lynne tilted her head. “What you just said, about war—it reminded me of something I haven’t thought about in years.” She hesitated. “Can I share it with you?”

“Absolutely,” said Revi with a smile.

Seven reached out for Revi’s hand, enjoying the warmth of her emotion. Lynne’s requests for the activation of her frequency were impossible to predict, and they’d both stopped trying to discover a logical pattern behind them. But they cherished every occurrence, and Seven never gave up hoping that someday Lynne would feel comfortable enough to simply keep her frequency open permanently.

Her friend came online with an ease born of practice, and immediately both Seven and Revi were taken to a vivid memory. It was nighttime, and they were at the center of several tents barely visible in the darkness. A small gas stove was heating a pan of water, and a man sat before it, occasionally holding his hand over the rising steam to warm it. Another stove glowed a short distance away, and the voice of a different man could be heard, telling stories of heroism and daring.

What a moron, Lynne said in her memory.

The man looked up, a smile showing two silver capped teeth. You’re just now figuring that out?

No, I figured that out when the bastard assumed I’d bring him his coffee because I have a pair of breasts.

Nice ones, too.

Shut up, Digger. But Lynne’s memory was one of affection, and Seven knew this man was a friend. I’m talking about his war stories. He’s an asshole; there’s no way he did any of those things he said he did. I don’t believe a word of it.

The man looked at the pan of water, saw the bubbles rising, and busied himself tearing open a foil packet and pouring its contents into the pan. As he stirred, he said, I’ll tell you a secret. There’s a sure fire way of telling those who went to ‘Nam from those who didn’t. The guys who were there don’t talk about it.

You were there, said Lynne in sudden realization. Digger nodded.

Yeah. And there isn’t a damn thing I can say about it that will make any sense. So I don’t say anything at all. Guys like him? He jerked his thumb toward the voice from the other stove. They make shit up to make themselves look big. But anyone who was there, we know the truth. And the truth isn’t something we talk about.

Why not?

He looked up. Because the only ones who can understand are the ones who were there. And they mostly just wanted to not be there. So there’s not much to say.

But don’t you think you have an obligation? I mean, the only way we can ever move beyond war is to learn from our mistakes, and how can we learn if the people who really saw those mistakes, and suffered because of them, don’t talk about it?

I have no fucking obligation, Lynne. Not to you, not to some kid writing her high school report on Vietnam, not to my mom, not to anybody. I fulfilled my obligations long before they shipped me home.

That’s not what I meant. God, I can’t even imagine what you saw over there. I’m not saying you have to bare your soul. I’m just saying—

That’s just it, he interrupted.

What is?

Vietnam ripped all of us down to our souls. You say I don’t have to bare my soul; it’s already bare. It will be for the rest of my life. That’s why none of us talk about it.

I don’t think I understand.

He stirred the pot and said, Good. I pray that you never do.

The memory ended, and Lynne’s thoughts echoed through their link. : I thought he was brushing me off. But really, he was giving me a blessing. :

: He was. : Revi nodded. : Probably the best one he could give. :

: Yeah. But it didn’t work. I understand now. We all do. Almost four hundred years later and the psychological experience is just the same. :

: Why would it be different? : Seven wanted to know. Revi and Lynne looked at each other, then back at her.

“Good question,” said Lynne.

And since there was no answer to it, the women quietly made their way to their alcoves. A minute later there was no sound in the cargo bay save the hum of flowing energy.

 

 

-----

 

 

Kathryn came wide awake at the sound, her body reacting long before her sleep-fogged brain could even comprehend what the alarm was for. As she jerked on her pants and shoved her feet into her boots, her mind finally caught up.

“Janeway to security!” she shouted. Damn it to hell, why had she let Tuvok go home? “Intruder alert in Cargo Bay Two!” She was yanking her jacket on over her bare torso and moving toward the door before an unfamiliar female voice responded, “Acknowledged. We’re on our way.”

“So am I. And you’d better beat me there.” Phaser in hand, she ran out the door.

 

 

-----

 

 

Seven was jolted out of her regeneration by a silent alarm directly to her cortical implant. When Kathryn had ordered the construction of the alcove unit, Seven had requested and received permission to install an alarm system as well. With Revi sharing the unit, Seven’s concern for unauthorized entry had suddenly and dramatically increased; she wanted to make certain no one would be staring at the woman she felt such a strong need to protect. And when Lynne had joined them in the unit, Kathryn had asked Seven to route the alarm notification to her ready room and personal quarters as well.

In the twelve months since the alarm was originally installed, it had never been tripped. Now it flashed through all three of their alcoves, ending their regeneration simultaneously but without an audio confirmation. None of them moved.

: Can you see anyone, Seven? :

From her position closest to the door, Seven had the best view of any of them.

: The door is still shut. No one has gained entry yet. :

: Then let’s go. :

Revi and Seven detached themselves, with Lynne following as soon as she saw them. “Link me up, Revi,” she whispered. In an instant she was online, not even bothering with direct thought but merely sending an image of where she wanted them to be. It was a more immediate form of mental communication, and Revi and Seven took up position on one side of the door, while Lynne crouched on the other. Whichever of them had the earliest and safest chance of taking down the intruder would act immediately.

They could hear the muffled chirps of a manual bypass. Whoever was on the other side of the door was good; Seven had programmed that lock with a Borg algorithm. It was certainly giving the intruder problems, but the fact that he or she had even gotten this far was sobering.

A final chirp, a click, and all three of them tensed as the door slid open. For a moment nothing happened; then a figure in black stepped through. Through the link they shared, Seven knew Lynne had already seen the energy weapon in the figure’s right hand, held low against the body. She was on it instantly, her prosthetic hand crushing the fingers around the weapon with an audible crunch. With a gasp the figure twisted, and Seven saw the glint of metal in its other hand. She and Revi both jumped at the same time, and Seven wrenched the knife away while Revi slammed her Borg arm against the intruder’s skull. The figure went face down in a heap, with Seven and Lynne following it down to make sure it stayed there. As they held it by the arms and shoulders, Revi called out “Computer, lights!”

“It’s a Cardassian,” said Lynne in surprise.

The woman glared at her from the corner of her eye, blood trickling down her ridged forehead. “You’re a dead woman,” she growled.

“Not tonight,” said Lynne, adjusting her grip and immobilizing their prisoner in a shoulder lock. “Seven, get some wrist restraints.”

Seven called out her order as she hurried toward the replicator, and the restraints were waiting for her by the time she arrived. In a moment she returned and locked the Cardassian’s wrists. As soon as the prisoner was secure, Lynne hooked her hands under the woman’s arms and hauled her to her feet. “Who the fuck are you?” she asked.

Revi moved toward them, intent on examining the woman’s wound, and was caught by surprise when the Cardassian suddenly kicked outward. She twisted away, but not quickly enough, and her shock at the pain sliced through the link. “Shit! Look out for the boots, she just cut me!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Kathryn was there, holding a phaser on their prisoner, and right behind her were five Starfleet personnel in security uniforms.

“Energize,” gasped the woman.

“You fucking bitch,” growled Lynne, raising her fist. Seven beat her to it, her anger burning out any coherent thought. This woman had hurt Revi; she was going to crush her skull. But the Cardassian dematerialized, and Seven’s fist went right through the shimmering outline. Lynne barely ducked in time.

: Seven! :

The fear in Revi’s call cut effortlessly through Seven’s rage, and she whirled in time to see her partner drop bonelessly to the deck.

: Neurotoxin…I need to get to sickbay, now! :

She barely registered the look of horror on Kathryn’s face as she scooped Revi’s limp body into her arms and shouted, “Computer, emergency medical transport!”

As the beam took her, she heard Kathryn’s voice saying, “Trace that woman’s transport and put guards outside sickbay! Computer, site—”

She materialized in sickbay and was already laying Revi on a biobed as Kathryn and Lynne beamed in. “What happened?” Kathryn demanded as they strode toward the bed, but Seven wasn’t listening.

: Revi, tell us what you need! :

Revi’s eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling. : Cyclochloromine… : Her thoughts were chaotic as she struggled to stay focused, but the instinctive fear of a dying body was overpowering her. : Seven, I can’t breathe! :

: I’ll get it. : Lynne ran for a supply cabinet on the opposite wall. : Seven, just hold her. Revi, you’re going to be all right, okay? Just hang on. :

Seven tried to fight her own terror, but it was impossible when she could feel Revi dying. She held Revi’s hand and leaned over the bed, putting her face in her lover’s line of sight. “You will not die,” she said, the fear making her voice harsh. “Do you hear me? You will not.”

: Don’t let me go. :

: I won’t. :

: Stupid…shouldn’t have been so close… :

Seven squeezed her hand. “I should have broken both of her legs,” she said venomously. “I’m the stupid one.”

: None of that. : Lynne’s thought broke in. : I’ve got the antitoxin, Revi. How much? Revi! How much? :

But Revi was fading out of consciousness, and her last thoughts were too chaotic. The link shivered and broke, leaving Seven desperately alone in her mind.

“Fuck!” swore Lynne as she appeared at Seven’s side. “Computer, list known neurotoxins used by Cardassians and cross reference with cyclochloromine. How many of those neurotoxins are neutralized by cyclochloromine?”

“One,” said the computer. “Axilese is a—”

“Great,” Lynne interrupted. “What’s the required dose of cyclocholoromine to neutralize axilese in an adult Human female, approximately…” She looked at Seven.

“Eighty-six kilograms. But I don’t know how much of that is Borg implants!” Seven was despairing at their lack of necessary data. Revi was dying and they didn’t even know how much of the antitoxin to give her!

“Approximately seventy kilograms,” said Lynne quickly, and Seven looked at her in fear. That was nothing more than a guess. What if—

“Recommended dose is between ten and fourteen cubic centimeters, depending on the patient’s age, gender, and health status.”

Lynne had punched in a setting and was pressing the hypospray to Revi’s neck before the computer finished. A second later she was running a medical tricorder over Revi’s torso, shaking her head as she read the results. “The antidote is working, but her heart and lungs have already stopped,” she said grimly. “She’s going to need a jumpstart.”

“A what?” asked Kathryn as Lynne pulled open a supply drawer. Seven was beyond asking; she seemed to exist in a suspended state of agonized terror.

“Cortical stimulation,” said Lynne, fastening the stimulator to Revi’s forehead. “Seven, let go of her hand.”

In a daze, Seven let go and stepped back. “Activating stimulator,” she heard Lynne say, and Revi’s body convulsed. Lynne returned with the tricorder, staring at the readout and muttering, “Got a heart; come on, Revi, come on, breathe or I’m going to have to do it for you…”

Revi’s chest heaved in an explosive gasp as her diaphragm was released from its paralysis, and Seven dropped her head in abject gratitude.

“Thank god,” said Kathryn quietly.

Lynne closed the tricorder and leaned weakly against the bed. “She’s going to be all right. Jesus Christ, that was close.”

Seven picked up Revi’s hand and cradled it. “Too close,” she said, her voice shaking. Revi’s eyes were shut now; she looked as if she were merely asleep. Seven couldn’t even begin to process the wild swings of emotion she’d just careened through. At the moment she was simultaneously furious, grateful and overjoyed, a combination that until now she hadn’t thought possible.

“Can you tell me what happened?” asked Kathryn.

“I’m not even sure,” said Lynne. “The alarm brought all of us out of our regeneration cycle, Revi linked us together, and we ambushed that woman the moment she came through the alcove door. Revi hit her so hard she shouldn’t even have been conscious, but we didn’t know she was Cardassian.”

“If I’d known, I would have crushed her trachea,” said Seven, without looking up. How she wished she’d done it! Anything to save Revi from this.

There was a short pause before Lynne continued, “Anyway, we incapacitated her, but Revi went to look at her injury and the bitch kicked her. She had a blade built in to her boot; it must have been spring-loaded. She couldn’t get me because I was behind her, so I guess she went for the next best thing. Did you see Revi go down? Fuck, it was like she’d been shot.” She moved down to Revi’s leg and carefully pulled the sliced edges of the uniform pants apart, revealing an already-closing cut. “It’s just a shallow cut,” she marveled. “That stuff is unbelievably nasty.”

Seven felt the link reactivate, though Revi’s eyes were still shut. : Revi? :

: I’m here. Barely. :

The familiar voice in her mind weakened her knees, and she gripped the bed with her free hand for support.

“She’s awake,” Lynne told Kathryn.

“She doesn’t look like it,” said Kathryn doubtfully.

“That’s our Kathryn,” mumbled Revi. “Doesn’t believe it if she can’t see it.”

Seven realized belatedly that she was nearly crushing Revi’s hand. Hurriedly she loosened her grip and brought the hand to her lips for a tender kiss, whispering, “Revi…”

“I’m all right.” Revi’s eyelids fluttered open. “Gods, I have a headache that would make a Klingon cry.”

“Can I give you triptacederin without causing any damage?” asked Lynne. “You’ve got some powerful chemicals running around your body; I’m afraid to give you anything else.”

“Triptacederin is fine. Twenty cc’s.”

“Twenty? That’s a lot; are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

As Lynne loaded the hypospray, Revi looked at Seven. “Thanks for getting me here.”

“I would have walked through bulkheads to get you here,” said Seven truthfully. She still felt dazed.

“I’m just grateful we were on Voyager,” Lynne said. “If we’d been anywhere else, we wouldn’t have had access to the cyclochoromine.” She injected Revi, then removed the cortical stimulator and put the tools on a nearby tray.

“Ohh, much better.” Revi sighed in relief. “Thank you. Now I know why the Federation put axilese on the banned substance list. I knew it was a fast-acting neurotoxin, but gods above, that drug could take out an Arkonian dreadbeast in half a second.”

“It took you out in about thirty seconds,” said Lynne. “If you hadn’t kept your wits about you long enough to tell us what you needed, we’d never have figured it out in time.”

“How did you know it was axilese?” asked Kathryn.

Revi rubbed her forehead where the stimulator had been attached. “She was a Cardassian assassin, so I assumed she’d been trained by the Obsidian Order. That narrowed it down. They use a number of toxins for various results, and axilese is their favorite for instant death. When I felt everything shutting down so quickly, I knew.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we happened to have our CMO with us.” Kathryn put a gentle hand on Revi’s shoulder. “Please don’t scare us like that again.”

“Not high on my list,” said Revi. “Where did she come from?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing.” Kathryn raised her voice slightly. “Janeway to security.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Who’s in charge of the security detail for this ship?”

There was a tiny pause before the same voice answered, “I am, Captain. Lieutenant Terrill.”

“Then Lieutenant Terrill, I’d like to see you in sickbay. Now.”

The doors slid open immediately, and a short, powerfully built Bajoran woman stepped into the room. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, coming to stiff attention.

“Lieutenant, can you explain to me how the hell a Cardassian assassin got on board my ship without setting off any intruder alerts?”

Seven could detect the Lieutenant’s discomfort from all the way across the room, but the woman maintained her respectful attitude as she answered, “She disabled the sensors and came in through an external access hatch on deck one. She must have beamed onto the top surface of the ship to avoid being seen by the guards at the ramp, and used the hatch to avoid risking detection of an unauthorized transport into the ship itself.”

“Great,” growled Kathryn. “So a single Cardassian just pulled down the pants of an entire Starfleet security unit and a ship’s defenses.”

“With respect, ma’am, the ship’s defenses are not fully active,” said Terrill carefully. “We’re grounded, so we have no shields.”

Kathryn went still. “Well, shit,” she said so softly that Seven barely heard her. In a normal tone she said, “Did you at least track her?”

“No ma’am. Her transport signal was scrambled. It could have come from anywhere in near orbit. Starfleet has already issued a no-fly order for all ships in orbit, but…”

“But what?”

Terrill looked even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. “The Dominion War changed things, ma’am. No planetary government can hold a no-fly order for longer than six standard Stardate units. We’ll do all we can, but our best chance of apprehending the assassin was on this ship.”

The pause that followed this statement was loaded with Kathryn’s anger, though she never moved a muscle. “I see,” she said, and even that simple sentence had the security officer looking fearful. “Then set up a program to monitor the commbadges of every person on this ship. Nobody comes aboard without one, not me, not Admiral Paris, no one. Any individual detected without a commbadge is to be immediately neutralized, do you understand? And keep a constant cross reference between commbadges and associated life signs and vital signs; I don’t want anyone sneaking in with a stolen badge.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll begin right away.”

“Good. Lieutenant, am I correct in assuming that a security breach like this will not happen again?”

“It will not, ma’am.”

“See that it doesn’t. I really don’t care to be a sitting duck on my own damned ship. Dismissed.” As the doors closed behind the Lieutenant, she let out a breath and looked at the rest of them. “I miss Tuvok.”

“And I miss the Doctor,” said Lynne. “Christ almighty, I do not want to do that again.”

“Do what?” asked Revi. She began to push herself into a sitting position, and Seven scrambled to support her.

“What you do. Stand between life and death. My god, I have no idea how you do that day after day. My hands haven’t stopped shaking.” She held them up. “Even my prosthetic is shaking, and I don’t even know how that’s possible.”

“Adrenaline,” said Revi. “Your prosthetic is just resonating with the vibrations of your arm. My heart stopped, didn’t it?” She looked around as everyone nodded. Meeting Lynne’s eyes again, she said, “Then you did precisely what your medic training taught you. Good work.”

“Thank you,” added Seven, knowing the words were woefully inadequate. “If you hadn’t been here she could have died.”

Lynne’s mouth twisted. “If I hadn’t been here she wouldn’t have been in the slightest danger.”

Revi reached out with a still-weak hand, grabbed Lynne’s collar and pulled her forward until their faces were centimeters apart. “Shut up, Hamilton,” she said. “You’re my friend and I don’t have so many of those that I can afford to let assassins pick any off. Got that?”

“Got it,” whispered Lynne, and Revi let her go. Lynne dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before straightening.

“I can’t afford to let assassins pick any of us off,” said Kathryn firmly. “But our problem just got a lot bigger. How did that woman know we were on board?”

They all stared at her.

“Someone in Starfleet leaked the information,” Seven realized.

“Yes. And Admiral Necheyev is the one who cleared us for the relay transport. I trust her, but she’s got someone under her command selling us out.”

“The order for our relay transport can’t have gone through too many people,” said Revi. “That will narrow the list.”

Kathryn shook her head. “There shouldn’t be any damned list at all. How could our own people do this?”

“We don’t know that they did,” said Lynne. “We beamed out of a public transport station. It’s not like Starfleet beamed us directly from Gretchen’s house. Though clearly they should have,” she added darkly.

“Starfleet doesn’t do direct transports without cause,” said Kathryn. “They didn’t have any reason. Up until now, everything’s been conjecture.”

Revi let out a hoarse, croaking laugh that startled all of them. “That didn’t feel like conjecture to me.”

“Then how do we get to Denver?” asked Lynne. “Do we trust Starfleet or use public transport?”

“If the assassin was hired by one of Lynne’s fund managers, they know precisely when we’ll arrive at the Hamilton Foundation,” said Seven. “The manner of transport won’t matter.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” said Kathryn. “This is getting too dangerous. There are other ways to deal with the Foundation.”

“No fucking way,” said Lynne. “I’m not running. I won’t give them anything they want. But I don’t think you should come with me.”

“No fucking way,” said Revi immediately. “You’re not going anywhere without us.”

“We are a collective,” said Seven.

“Just what I wanted, my very own collective,” Lynne muttered, but they were still linked and her gratitude washed over both Seven and Revi.

“On second thought, we should go,” said Kathryn. “I just realized something. Whichever of Lynne’s fund managers is behind this will want the hit to take place in a way that won’t be traceable back to him—or her. That’s why Voyager was the perfect place, and it’s also why Denver is probably the last place they’ll try something. In fact, the Foundation building may be the safest place on Earth for you right now.”

“Lovely,” said Lynne, in a tone that indicated exactly the opposite. “I can’t wait to see it.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 14

 

 

Gohat watched the controls carefully, making absolutely sure the transport could not be traced. His attention was so focused that he was the last of their group to notice Lira’s furious expression when she materialized.

“I take it your mission failed,” said Dukali, standing by the transporter pad with his arms crossed over his massive chest.

“My mission would have been swiftly accomplished if someone had done their job properly. Had I known in advance that they had a Borg-encrypted alarm on their door, I could have circumvented it.” She glared at Dukali. “But since someone failed to gather all of the necessary details for this mission, those three Borg women heard me tinkering with the damned alarm and were waiting for me.”

“Looks like you got the worst of it,” observed Dukali, unaffected by her venom. He reached out a finger and smeared some of the blood on her cheek. His voice was noticeably colder as he added, “So you failed and you wish to blame me for it. And yet you were the one who demanded this assignment; you were the one convinced that the kill should be yours and no other’s. Therefore the failure is yours alone as well. I gathered every bit of data available through our network; the lack of information regarding their Borg alarm is not my fault. It is no one’s fault. The mark of a well-trained operative is not how she performs on a perfect mission, but how she performs on one where the unexpected occurs.”

Gohat would not have stood in Dukali’s boots for anything; Lira’s withering glare threatened to castrate the man where he stood. And yet he was angry as well. She had cost them their best asset in this assignment. They would never again have an opportunity like this one; their target was now on her guard.

But as he watched, her expression turned to a vicious pleasure. “When the unexpected occurred, I demoralized them by killing the doctor. Since the element of surprise has been lost, I introduced the element of fear.”

“Not our first choice,” said Dukali, glaring at her. The room crackled with tension until he added, “But a worthy second one.” He pulled Lira to him and kissed her roughly, then looked at her in surprise. “Why…oh.” He began to laugh. “Did you kill the doctor before or after they restrained you?”

Gohat looked then, and saw the wrist restraints binding her arms behind her. Meeting Nivel’s eyes, he saw his partner smother a grin even as he swallowed his own. It would never do for Lira to see either of them showing amusement at her embarrassment. They were a tightly-knit cell and had been through much together, but they all knew where the lines were drawn. Lira’s was drawn right in front of her oversized pride, and she was not above avenging herself if she thought that pride injured. And her pride would be especially tender now, after such a spectacular defeat at the hands of her victim.

“After,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “And you can laugh when you yourself have accomplished a kill despite being bound and held. If I’d had a blade in my heel as well as my toe, our target would be dead even now. Another oversight for which I am not responsible.” She pinned Gohat with a stare. “Now would you mind getting these off me?” Pointedly, she turned around and waited.

“Standard Starfleet restraints,” he said, recognizing the model instantly. “This should take about fifteen seconds.” Pulling a small tool from his belt, he stepped up to her and delicately finessed the mechanism in the restraints. In just a few moments the restraints gave up with a small click and fell to the floor.

“Sixteen seconds,” said Nivel. “You’re slowing down.”

“I’m out of practice. It’s been awhile.” Gohat replaced his pick as Lira turned around, rubbing her wrists. He noted that she wasn’t using the fingers of her right hand.

“It will be a long time before it happens again,” said Lira. “And in the meantime, I will make a modification to our boots, to correct that oversight.”

“They’ll be expecting that,” said Dukali.

“Maybe, maybe not. I won’t underestimate this target. But I won’t overestimate it, either.” Without sparing a further glance to any of them, she strode from the room.

“I knew it was a mistake to send her alone,” said Nivel. “You should have gone with her.”

“I hope that’s not a statement on her capabilities.” Dukali may have been angry with his lover, but he was also the first to defend her.

“Certainly not. But I believe we all underestimated this target. We thought the risk of two of us in the ship was too high. But the risk of failure is higher.”

“I agree,” said Gohat. “The longer we take to accomplish this job, the more difficult it will be. And it’s already difficult enough to send one of the best operatives in the Obsidian Order back to her ship in defeat.”

“Not only in defeat, but in restraints,” added Nivel. “And with broken fingers which she does not want us to notice.”

Dukali looked from one to the other, then nodded. “Agreed. From now on we work together. Failure is death.”

“Failure is death,” they repeated in unison.

 

 

 

 

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