chapter 12

 

 

Seven stood at her station on the bridge, watching the main viewer along with everyone else. She didn’t understand the need for her presence here. Her assigned task—that of initiating and monitoring the data transfer through the micro-wormhole that was due to open in one point six minutes—would be more efficiently accomplished from Astrometrics. But Kathryn had asked her to work from the bridge.

“Got your letters all written?” asked Chakotay, leaning toward the captain’s chair and displaying what Seven considered a truly remarkable ability for banal conversation. If Kathryn didn’t have her letters written by now, it was far too late to correct the error. Therefore, what was the point of asking the question?

“Well, I had to rewrite a couple,” Kathryn said. “There was a little matter of a wedding that I thought I should include. Along with some video. I’m reasonably certain that my mother is going to, as Lynne would put it, have kittens.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear about it,” said Chakotay, and Seven resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. Instead she checked her board, glad to have a reason to interrupt a conversation that she had no wish to hear more of.

“Captain, I’m detecting the formation of a micro-wormhole,” she said. “It is precisely at the expected coordinates. Starfleet has been most efficient.”

“A compliment of the highest order,” said Kathryn, and Seven knew from her vocal tone that she was in a very happy mood.

“The wormhole is increasing in size,” she reported, watching the data stream across her board. “It will be stable and ready for transmission in nineteen seconds.” She waited as the seconds counted down, and then said, “Initiating transmission…now.”

Simultaneous with her pronunciation of the word “now,” Harry Kim spoke up. “Captain, I’m receiving a Starfleet transmission.”

“Well, put it on, Mr. Kim.”

Unlike the previous month’s communication, this one was clear from its inception. “Starfleet Command to USS Voyager.”

“This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager. Admiral Paris, is that you?”

“It certainly is. It’s good to hear your voice, Captain Janeway. For some reason, this last month has seemed longer than the last six years combined.”

“I know what you mean, sir.”

“We’re sending you every bit of data we could find on new propulsion theory and anything else we thought might speed things along for you. There’s also a communication packet which is taking up a great deal of bandwidth. I’m sure you can imagine the response from your families when we contacted them.”

“Admiral—” and Seven detected a very slight crack in Kathryn’s voice—“I know I speak for everyone on Voyager when I say that not only can we imagine it, but we’ve spent untold hours thinking about it. We’re looking forward very much to those letters. And we’re sending our own packet to you as we speak, along with last month’s logs and records.”

“Very good. Lieutenant Barclay is here as well, and has some information for you.”

“Hello, Lieutenant, how are you?”

“F…fine, Captain Janeway.” The lieutenant’s voice was nervous. “I have some theories on improving our communication to more than the few minutes allowed by the alignment of the MIDAS array. They’re being sent in the transmission, coded ‘MIDAS Plus.’”

“Very good, Lieutenant. I’ll put my best people on it immediately. Thank you in advance for your efforts. If these theories are as good as your last one, we’re in great shape.” Kathryn nodded at Seven and Harry, and Seven returned the nod. She would access the file as soon as she completed the breakout of the communication packet.

“Captain Janeway.” Admiral Paris was back on line. “Your transmission has been received in full. Can you confirm receipt of ours?”

Seven had already done so, and nodded once again at Kathryn. In her peripheral vision she could see Harry doing the same; they were both monitoring the signal in case anything should go wrong with one of the stations.

Kathryn smiled at Seven. “Transmission confirmed, Admiral.”

“Excellent. In that case, since all of our housekeeping has been taken care of, there’s someone here who would like to speak with you. She happened to be in the area, so I didn’t think you’d mind if I put her on.”

“Hello, Kathryn.”

Kathryn was still looking at Seven when the new voice came over the speaker, and her eyes widened before she quickly turned her head away.

“Mom?”

“I’ve waited a long time to hear that name again. You know Phoebe never calls me that.”

Kathryn cleared her throat. “Is…is she still being Little Miss Formal?”

A rich laugh sounded. “Always. I never thought she’d be the one. Somewhere I swear you and she got your wires crossed.”

Seven regretted the news that she had to impart. “Captain, the wormhole is beginning to degrade. You have approximately twenty seconds.”

Kathryn nodded. “We don’t have much time left, Mom. Are you and Phoebe all right?”

“We were all right from the moment Starfleet told us you’d made contact again. There are a lot of families keeping candles burning in the window for your safe return. I know you’ll bring your ship home.”

“I’ll do my best. I have an exemplary crew to work with. Mom—”

“The wormhole has collapsed, Captain.” Never had Seven wished more for the power to control cosmic phenomena.

Kathryn straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, Seven,” she said briskly. “Breakout of the Starfleet files is top priority, followed by personal communiqués. And as soon as you’re done with distribution, I want you and Harry to analyze Lieutenant Barclay’s file on communication theories. Have a report on my desk as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Captain.” Seven shut her board down and entered the turbolift. As the doors closed, she heard Kathryn say, “Resume course, Mr. Paris.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Sandrine’s was hopping. The arrival of the first scheduled packet of letters from home was cause for celebration, and when Neelix had proposed a party, Janeway had gladly authorized the replicator and computer usage. Gamma shift had been there since mail call, and most of alpha shift was there as well, many of them still in their uniforms. Janeway hadn’t changed out of hers either, having remained on the bridge with Tuvok to give the beta shift bridge crew the chance to attend the party with their alpha and gamma shift peers. It wasn’t often the three crews had the opportunity to mingle, and she was happy to provide it for them. Besides, it gave her the chance to helm Voyager, if only for a few hours.

She stood just inside the door, watching her crew as they talked excitedly about the latest news from Earth. The roar of conversation almost overwhelmed the music, and the bar was charged with the happy energy of a crew that had just gotten a good dose of morale. However, Janeway noted a few crew members who sat hunched over their drinks, speaking in low tones to each other or, in some cases, tucking themselves into corners and saying nothing at all. The sad reality was that mail call always brought bad news to someone, and she knew from experience that it was much harder to deal with your bad news when everyone around you was elated.

Once again she wished for a ship’s counselor. There was very little that she could do for these quiet members of her crew, other than to make sure she dropped by each of their tables tonight, just to be there for them in case they wanted to talk. They rarely did, usually too intimidated by her rank to reveal what was bothering them. Chakotay was far better at making that kind of connection.

To her surprise, she saw Lynne in one of those dark corners, speaking intently to Crewman Slater. Lynne had worked closely with Slater and his partner Johnson for her first few months on Voyager, and though she no longer spent her days in the archeology lab, they were still friends. Janeway guessed that Slater had gotten bad news, and Lynne was offering her support. Unwilling to interrupt their conversation, she looked around the bar for somewhere else to sit.

“Captain!” B’Elanna’s voice rose above the general roar, and she followed the sound to a corner where two tables had been pushed together. B’Elanna waved her hand in the air and pointed toward an empty chair beside her. Janeway waved back and began to make her way through the crowd. It took her nearly ten minutes to walk the short distance, as she stopped at each table along the way. Everyone she spoke with had bright eyes and ready laughter as they greeted the captain and shared their news. Babies had been born, weddings had taken place, promotions given and retirements taken. Life went on in the Alpha Quadrant, but thanks to what was now a regular mail call, it wouldn’t go on without them anymore.

“Thanks for saving me a seat,” said Janeway when she finally arrived at her destination.

“You’re welcome, Captain. You’d never have gotten one otherwise. Not without pulling rank, anyway.”

“Yeah, this place is jammed,” said Tom from B’Elanna’s other side.

Janeway looked around the happy faces at the table. “So, what’s the news?” she asked.

B’Elanna finished her drink and added the empty glass to the other three already standing in front of her. When she turned to Janeway, the smile on her face threatened to split it in half. “My mother’s alive.”

“You heard from Miral?” Janeway was surprised and very pleased. A few months earlier, B’Elanna had undergone a near-death experience in which she’d seen and spoken with her mother, and she had returned convinced that Miral was dead. It had been a very difficult time for her, and Janeway had lent what little support she’d been able to. It had felt, to her, woefully inadequate.

But B’Elanna was nodding, still smiling and looking as if she wouldn’t be stopping any time soon. “She said she’s proud of me. She’s proud of what I’ve done here on Voyager. Can you imagine?”

“You keep saying that,” said Tom, putting his arm around her shoulders. “And of course we can imagine it. Why wouldn’t she be proud of you?”

“Because I’m not Klingon,” said B’Elanna, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Most of what I’ve accomplished here has been in spite of my Klingon heritage, not because of it. I just never thought she’d see anything worthwhile in that. I’ve felt like I let her down in so many ways.”

“Maybe,” said Janeway, “she understands better than you think. Because your Klingon heritage certainly does have a lot to do with your success, right from the very beginning. Why do you think I chose you for my chief engineer?”

“I thought it was because of my problem solving skills,” said B’Elanna.

“Those were certainly a big point in your favor, but they’re not what got you the post. What made the difference for me was your passion. You believed in your ideas, and in your ability to bring them to fruition. You argued with me when you thought I was wrong. That’s what got you the post.”

B’Elanna shook her head, her bewilderment evident. “You’re telling me I’m chief engineer because I argued with you?”

Janeway smiled; B’Elanna was just a little drunk and it looked cute on her. Not that she’d ever say that out loud.

“I’m telling you you’re chief engineer because you have the passion of your convictions, which is something I value in an officer. And from what you’ve told me about your parents, I’m pretty sure you got that passion from your mother. So yes, your Klingon heritage has a lot to do with where you are now.”

“Huh. And here I’ve been working so hard on controlling my mouth around you. Wonder how much higher I can climb if I let go and start arguing more?”

“Uh, B’Elanna, maybe you shouldn’t have any more ale,” said Tom, who was plainly worried that she was going to get herself in trouble.

“It’s okay, Tom,” said Janeway. Catching B’Elanna’s eye, she added, “B’Elanna knows she’s already at the top of her profession here. There’s nowhere to go but down. And no faster way to get there than to mouth off to her captain.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said B’Elanna, just as the holographic waiter appeared to take their orders. It was fortunate that his brain was tied into the ship’s computer, as orders were shouted from all sides of the table without regard for interruption. In the midst of the chaos, Janeway felt a hand on the back of her neck and knew that Lynne had arrived.

“Hi, love,” Lynne said into her ear. She had brought an empty chair with her, and with a general shuffling the staff at the table managed to make room for one more. Sliding gracefully into the newly created space, she extended her long legs under the table and loudly added her order to the rest before turning to smile at Janeway.

Janeway ran her eyes up and down Lynne’s body, taking the time to thoroughly appreciate how sleek and confident her wife looked in her new uniform. God, she loved that uniform. She hadn’t been able to give Lynne a Starfleet security uniform upon her official appointment, but Lynne had designed something that Janeway frankly thought looked better. It was Starfleet from the waist down, though Janeway knew the boots weren’t exactly standard issue—not with fifteen-centimeter blades tucked into their concealed sheaths, and special alloys making the toe of each boot a lethal weapon. Her fitted, short-waisted jacket had the same neckline as the standard uniforms, but was black with panels of gold that ran from just under each arm to the hemline. Janeway thought those panels did wonders to accentuate Lynne’s narrow waist and broad shoulders. A line of gold piping outlined the area where the color band of a standard uniform would normally be, and on her right upper sleeve she bore an insignia that was purely Lynne: the laurels from the United Federation of Planets emblem, bracketing two snow-covered mountains. In the foreground Voyager swooped across the scene.

Yes, she liked that jacket a great deal, but she liked what was under it even better. The shirt was tight, sleeveless and the same color scheme as the jacket, with gold piping at the top of the collar. The first time Janeway had seen Lynne without the jacket, she’d been hard pressed to keep her hands to herself. If it were possible to require that her personal security escort go without a jacket at all times, she would have made the order official immediately. Unfortunately, decorum still prevailed; and after all, she did get to look forward to watching Lynne take off her jacket as soon as she got to their quarters after her shift. It was her favorite time of the day.

“Hey,” said Lynne, breaking her out of her increasingly lustful reverie. “I heard you talked to your mom today.”

Janeway leaned in to keep their conversation more private, though she doubted anyone could hear them over the general background roar. “I don’t really want to make it public, Lynne—nobody else on this ship has gotten to speak with their family, and I don’t want any bad feelings.”

Lynne raised an eyebrow. “Kathryn, it’s already as public as it could possibly be. I heard about it within half an hour. And nobody begrudges you the chance to talk with your mother—especially since it lasted for all of what, thirty seconds?”

“About that,” admitted Janeway. “Not nearly long enough. But hearing Mom’s voice…” she trailed off, unable to articulate what that had meant to her.

As usual, Lynne seemed to understand without words. She just squeezed Janeway’s arm and slid her hand down to entwine their fingers. “So what did you manage to cover in thirty seconds?”

“Just that she and Phoebe are okay, and she misses being called Mom.”

Lynne’s brows drew together. “What does Phoebe call her?”

“Mother. Back when we were teenagers she got it in her head that ‘Mom’ was too childish, so she switched, and she’s never switched back. It’s funny, because in every other way Phoebe is the wild child of the family. Mom says she’s sure our wires got crossed somehow.”

“Your mom obviously doesn’t know you the way I do. If you were any wilder I certainly couldn’t handle you.”

“Right.” Janeway couldn’t help but grin. “Somehow I think you’d manage. But let’s not give Mom any more fuel than she already has. I’m sure I’m going to get a full ration of shit as soon as she and Phoebe read our letters; they don’t need anything more to tease me about.” But, she thought wistfully, she’d give a great deal to hear that teasing. Phoebe could exasperate her beyond endurance, but right now that sounded wonderful.

Lynne was looking ostentatiously guilty. “You mean I wasn’t supposed to tell them that I can’t keep up with you in bed? Whoops.”

Janeway was about to respond when Harry whistled from the other side of the table. “Damn!” he said loudly. “Look at that!”

Lynne and Janeway both swiveled in their chairs, and Janeway could practically hear the jaws dropping all over Sandrine’s. Revi and Seven had come in, and they both looked smashing. Of course, Janeway always thought Revi looked beautiful—with her dark skin and hair, she was one of those people who looked fabulous in a blue science uniform. What was stunning the general population, however, was Seven’s outfit. Her biosuit and high heels were gone. Instead, she wore a uniform identical to Lynne’s, with science blue highlights instead of gold. The black pants and boots somehow made her legs look even longer than the biosuit had, and with her hair loose around her shoulders, the overall impression was one that raised the temperature in the room a good ten degrees.

“So, you like?” Lynne said into her ear.

“I didn’t know you designed one for her as well.” Janeway couldn’t take her eyes off the couple approaching them.

“I did the window dressing, but there’s a lot going on in that outfit that you don’t see—body temperature and implant regulation and god only knows what else—and Revi’s responsible for that. It was bugging the hell out of both of us that the Doctor had designed such a piece of voyeuristic crap for Seven, so when you made Revi CMO, practically the first thing she did was come to me about that biosuit. She liked what I’d come up with for my own uniform and wanted to use it in her design.”

“Is her shirt sleeveless too?”

“Of course.”

Janeway fanned her face with her hand, causing Lynne to double over in laughter. Then Revi and Seven were there, along with the waiter and their drinks, and it took several minutes for the shouts, catcalls and requests for additional drinks to die down enough to allow any conversation. When they’d all settled down, Revi and Seven had found seats across from them and their table was full to beyond capacity.

“Damn, Seven!” said B’Elanna. “You clean up nice.”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “I’m always clean.”

“Yeah, but you’re not always nice,” said Lynne, to the general merriment of the table. Janeway noticed, however, that Chakotay was not laughing. He was staring daggers across the table, and when Janeway followed his eyes she saw that Revi was returning the stare with a faint look of challenge on her face. Interesting.

B’Elanna turned to Lynne. “What’s with you two and these new uniforms? And where can I get one?”

Lynne shrugged. “Sorry, you can’t have one. Non-Starfleet contractors only.”

“I’m not Starfleet!” protested B’Elanna. “And Seven isn’t a contractor.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. These uniforms are reserved for individuals 175 centimeters and over. Shrimps need not apply.”

Over the howls at the table, B’Elanna leaned across Janeway to grab a fistful of Lynne’s shirt. With her other hand she fished an ice cube out of her water glass and was making a valiant attempt to get it down Lynne’s collar. In the ensuing tussle, Janeway scooted back, grabbed the top edges of both Lynne’s and B’Elanna’s chairs, and yanked inward. Both chairs came up off their legs, and with a shriek B’Elanna crashed onto the floor. Lynne, however, hadn’t had anything to drink and managed to save herself. With a sheepish look at Janeway, she got up and helped B’Elanna back into her chair, then leaped back with a yelp and frantically pulled her shirt out of her pants. As B’Elanna roared with laughter, a mostly melted ice cube dropped out, and Lynne advanced on her again. Janeway stood up, placing one hand on Lynne’s chest and one on B’Elanna’s shoulder.

“All right, you two. Take this somewhere else if you want to keep it up. Or channel it into something less potentially destructive, like a drinking challenge.” She rolled her eyes.

“How about a game of pool?” asked Tom, in a laudable effort to save his girlfriend.

“No pool for me,” said Lynne. “I suck at it. And B’Elanna thinks pool is where you take a wooden stick and beat people about the head with it.”

“Lynne, you are not helping,” said Janeway in a low tone. More loudly, she added, “I’ll play a game, Tom.”

Immediately the table rang with bets being placed against Tom, but since no one would bet against Janeway, the would-be gamblers had to give up. En masse, the group trouped over to an empty pool table, though Janeway noticed that Chakotay used the moment as an opportunity to slip away. She shook her head; it was becoming more obvious to her that her first officer and CMO were never going to get along. Chakotay’s objections had been loud and surprisingly emotional when she’d announced Revi’s promotion, but he hadn’t said anything to make her reconsider, so she’d shut him down quickly and warned him that she did not want to hear another word on the subject. Now the very sight of the doctor seemed to anger him, and Revi plainly didn’t like him any better. But as long as their animosity didn’t affect their job performance, there wasn’t a thing Janeway could do about it.

Tom racked up the balls and offered the break to Janeway, who accepted with a grin. Her shot immediately sank two stripes and a solid, and with a wink at Lynne she chose solids. Lynne just smiled and shook her head.

With the crowd around them loudly analyzing shots and offering advice to Tom, Janeway cleaned up the table while Tom still had two balls out. He accepted his defeat gracefully, commenting that there was no dishonor in losing to a shark. Janeway rested the butt of her cue on the ground and looked around the group. “Any takers?” she asked. All but one of the crew shook their heads, and Janeway locked eyes with the standout. “Revi?”

Revi stepped to the wall and selected a cue, hefting it in her human hand before returning it and pulling down another. This seemed to meet with her approval, and she stood at the foot of the table. “Where did you learn to play?” she asked.

“A little hole-in-the-wall bar in San Francisco. On Market Street. It gave me something else to think about besides my Academy deadlines.”

“I think I know that bar,” said Revi. “I played there a few times. The owner was nice.”

Janeway sized up her challenger, wondering if Revi was hinting at a heretofore unknown talent. She mentally shrugged; one sure way to find out. She racked up the balls and offered the break to Revi.

“Thanks,” said Revi. Using her cybernetic arm as the resting hand, she set up her shot and smacked the cue ball with considerable strength. The balls exploded across the table, flying around as if they were self-powered, and it took some time for the table to settle. But for all that brute strength, Revi obviously didn’t have a great deal of finesse—only one ball dropped in.

“Stripes it is,” said Revi, moving around the table to her next shot. She picked off a ball with a crisp stroke, dispatched another with almost negligent ease, and then banked the cue ball off a rail to send a third in. Janeway was beginning to reconsider her initial opinion of Revi’s skill, but then the run ended. The last three striped balls were trapped behind a clump of Janeway’s, so Revi banked the cue ball and broke up the cluster with her next shot. The balls separated nicely, but nothing dropped. Standing up, Revi rested her cue stick on the ground and smiled at Janeway. “Your shot.”

“You did play in that bar, didn’t you?” Janeway was delighted—Revi was a worthy challenge. Swiftly, she sank three of her own balls, then took considerable time eyeing the table for the next one. Dismissing the easiest shot as one that would leave her cue ball in the wrong place, she chose instead a shot that required banking the ball off the opposite end of the table to get it behind one of Revi’s and nudge her own in. The ball dropped, allowing her easy access to the next shot, but after that she was stuck. So she casually tapped the cue ball, rolling it into a corner that gave Revi almost no way to reach any of her own balls.

“Ah,” said Revi, “I didn’t realize we were playing dirty. All right, I can do that.” And with a skill that raised a shout from the onlookers, she got herself out of the corner by banking the cue ball off two rails and dropped a ball, tying up the game. Her next shot was a combination, using one of her remaining balls to knock the other in, though the aftermath left her in a tough spot. She made a valiant effort, though, and came very close to clearing her last ball—but it bounced off a corner of the pocket and rolled a few centimeters out. The crowd groaned.

Grinning, Janeway dispatched her last two balls and called the eight ball in the center pocket. With a decisive click, she knocked it in and stood up. “Good game,” she said.

Revi looked at the table. “I can do better,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I played; I just need a little warm-up. Care to go again?”

“Sure.” Janeway set about racking up the balls.

“Care to make it a little more interesting?”

Lifting the rack, Janeway looked sharply at her CMO. “What do you suggest?”

“Thirty rations says I can beat you in this one.”

Janeway tried not to smile too broadly. “You’re on.”

Immediately bets were placed all around the table, and Janeway was amused to see that some of her crew were betting against her now. Tom, she noticed, was still betting on her. She winked at him as she lifted her cue. On the break she sank three stripes and one solid, and this time called stripes. Revi was too dangerous to give a handicap to. With swift precision, she cleared all but one of her balls before getting caught in an impossible location. Revi immediately took advantage of the open table, sinking one ball after another with a calm attitude that bespoke hours and hours of practice.

“I see your youth was as misspent as mine,” Janeway observed after Revi sank her last ball.

Revi gave her a smile before resting her cue on the ground and studying the table. She was down to the eight ball, but it sat behind Janeway’s stripe right next to a corner pocket. She walked around the table twice before finally choosing her shot, a daring attempt to dig the eight ball out from behind Janeway’s and sink it in the opposite corner. It nearly worked, but the finesse she’d had to use meant that the ball didn’t quite have enough speed to go in, and it stopped right on the lip of the pocket. Cheers and groans sounded around the table as Janeway stepped in, quickly sinking her last ball and taking advantage of Revi’s setup to nudge the eight ball over the edge.

“I believe that’s thirty rations you owe me,” she said.

Revi shook her head. “Too close,” she said. “I want another chance. A hundred rations says I can take you.”

The crowd went silent, and Janeway had to consciously keep her jaw from dropping. “Revi, I don’t think—”

“It’s my choice,” said Revi. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t want to bet. Just tell me if you have the brass to take it. Come on, you’ll only have to pay out seventy if you lose.”

But if she won, Revi would owe her one hundred and thirty rations! Even at a commander’s rate of pay, that was over a month’s worth. The wide eyes around the table confirmed that Janeway wasn’t the only one staggered by Revi’s bet. It was nearly unheard of.

But Revi was staring at her, the challenge written all over her face, and Janeway couldn’t back down. Especially not in front of her crew. “All right,” she said. “I accept.”

A excited murmur went up from the crowd, and as Revi racked up the balls Janeway watched the word spread swiftly around Sandrine’s. By the time Revi lifted the rack, the entire population of the bar was jammed around the table—even Chakotay was there—and the amount of betting going on was phenomenal.

As the winner of the last game, it was Janeway’s break. She sank two solids, and cleaned up another three before finding her last two balls completely trapped by a clump of stripes. “Your shot,” she said.

But Revi gave her a look of pure triumph. “My game, you mean. Do you want to pay up now, or are you going to make me clear the table?”

Janeway’s first thought was one of incredulous disbelief, but she looked closer at her opponent and began to feel serious misgivings. Revi was too confident.

“You’re going to have to back up that mouth,” she said. “I’m not paying anything until I see the eight ball go down.”

Revi shrugged. “Suit yourself. Don’t know what I’ll spend all those rations on, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.” She turned to the crowd. “How many of you bet against me?” she called.

Janeway was surprised to see that nearly half the crowd put their hands up. Good god, that meant over half her crew was betting against their captain! Didn’t they have any faith? She’d been queen of this pool table for six years now; surely they hadn’t given up on her so soon.

“All right,” said Revi to those whose hands were in the air. “You’d better start figuring out how to live without those rations, because they’re gone.”

She turned to the table and lined up her first shot, aiming at two of her balls that sat a centimeter apart. The cue ball slammed into them with a sound like a projectile weapon, stopping dead on the spot while the striped balls shot into opposite corners and dropped almost in unison. The spectators shouted in glee or dismay, depending on their bet, and Janeway began to worry.

Revi calmly walked around the table, set up her next shot, and looked Janeway in the eye as she hit the cue ball. She held their gaze, and neither needed to look at the table to know the result. If the sound of the ball thunking into the pocket hadn’t told them, the roar of the crowd would have.

And then Janeway watched, in increasing astonishment—and grudging admiration—as Revi methodically cleared the table in a series of brilliant shots that made her play in the first two games look infantile. There was no hesitation, and each shot seemed to miraculously set up the next. She even did one behind her back, turning an awkward reach into a shot that looked deceptively simple. Toward the end Janeway’s remaining two balls seemed to greatly limit Revi’s options, but she played as if the table were empty of everything but what she wanted. When the last striped ball went in, she casually called out the center pocket in what Janeway would have sworn was an impossible maneuver. No way could she get that cue ball around the solids to where she wanted it to go. But she did, and the onlookers shouted in increasing volume as the cue ball banked off all four rails, sailing around the stripes to lightly touch the eight ball and push it into the pocket.

It was instant pandemonium, as crew members slapped each other on the back or loudly demanded their winnings, while Revi strolled up to Janeway with a wolfish grin on her face.

“I believe that’s seventy rations you owe me,” she said.

Janeway could hardly believe what she’d just seen. “You hustled me!”

“Sure I did,” said Revi. “And you swallowed it. When I was a teenager in San Francisco, I learned that the best players always fell the hardest, because they couldn’t back down from a bet. I financed a bay view condo by taking down players like you.”

“Where the hell did you learn to play like that?”

Revi’s expression became unreadable. “You know that bar you mentioned?”

Janeway nodded.

“My parents owned it.”

Stunned, Janeway could only stare as the crowd surged around Revi, shaking her hand and rubbing her shoulders. The doctor had just made her reputation on Voyager, and when Janeway fought her snarling, competitive nature down enough to think clearly, she realized that nothing she could have done as a captain would have earned Revi even half this much acceptance. So she swallowed her pride and managed to accept the good-natured gibes of her crew with a minimum of internal grimacing, though it wasn’t easy.

As the crowd bore Revi off to the bar, where she would no doubt be drinking free for the next two weeks, Lynne came up and wrapped an arm around Janeway’s waist. “Well, that was something to see,” she said carefully. “How are you doing?”

Janeway turned her head to meet Lynne’s eyes, and saw genuine concern instead of the amusement she’d dreaded. Lynne knew her well.

“I’ve got a severely bruised ego,” she said. “Being humiliated in front of most of my crew isn’t my idea of a great time. But I’d do it twice over to see that.” She looked back at the bar, and Lynne followed her gaze.

“Looks like they’re competing to buy her drinks,” Lynne observed. “Too bad she only drinks sparkling cider.”

Janeway laughed. “Well, I don’t, and I’m feeling a bit dry. Care to join me?”

“I’d go anywhere with you, babe,” Lynne answered in an exaggerated drawl. “There’s something about you and that pool cue that makes chills go down my spine.” She flashed a sultry smile, and suddenly Janeway felt great.

“In that case,” she said, pulling Lynne in for a one-armed hug, “let me buy you a drink and see if I can get you to go home with me.”

She’d lost her standing as the best pool player on Voyager, but what she’d gained was worth so much more. Revi was worth so much more.

 

 

-----

 

 

“I noticed the Doctor never showed up,” said Lynne as they entered their quarters. “Is he still sulking?” She stripped off her jacket as she walked toward the bedroom.

“Hold it right there,” ordered Janeway in her best command voice. She hid a grin when Lynne instantly stopped and turned, a look of alarm on her face.

“What is it?”

Janeway strolled up to Lynne, openly evaluating her form. “I just didn’t want you to take anything else off until I got a chance to enjoy this.”

Lynne relaxed, rolling her eyes in tolerant amusement. “Are you ever going to get used to me in uniform?”

“I hope not. If I ever stop appreciating this view, check to see if I still have a pulse.”

Lynne dropped the jacket on the floor and put her hands on her hips, making her shoulder muscles stand out. Janeway’s eyes were instantly drawn to them, and from there to the breasts that were perfectly outlined under the tight shirt. She was glad they were in their quarters at last, having fought all evening to prevent herself from openly staring at her wife.

Lynne laughed. “Who knew you were such a dog? I’ve never even had men look at me the way you do, and they’re supposed to be the visual ones.”

Finally Janeway raised her eyes to meet Lynne’s. “Oh, I don’t doubt they looked at you. You just didn’t see it.”

“Yeah, they were probably slightly more subtle than you. Honestly, Kathryn, I never knew what the term “undressing with her eyes” meant until I met you. You make me feel like I’m standing here naked.”

“That can be arranged,” said Janeway, once more indulging herself in the visual feast before her. “I think I’ll send an order to Tuvok that you can only accompany me on missions to tropical locations. It’s a crime to cover that up with a jacket.”

“Are you going to order Seven to accompany us on those missions as well?”

The question startled Janeway out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Lynne’s eyes dancing.

“Well, if one is good, two is better, right?” Now Lynne was starting to have too much fun. “I mean, Seven looks damn hot with her jacket off.”

“I’m sure she does,” said Janeway, closing the distance between them and running her hands up Lynne’s sides. “But she belongs to someone else. You, however…” She pulled Lynne’s head down for the kiss she’d wanted to give her all evening.

When they parted, Lynne said quietly, “Finish your sentence.”

Suddenly Janeway was nervous. What was she thinking, making a statement of ownership like that to Lynne? She had a nasty feeling that she was about to be put in her place.

“Finish it,” repeated Lynne.

Janeway looked into her eyes and saw no signs of indignation. Gathering her courage, she said, “You belong to me.” And quickly added, in an attempt at self-preservation, “The same way I belong to you.”

Lynne locked her hands behind Janeway’s neck. “You know,” she said, “there are only a very few people who have ever tried to say that to me. And it was always the point at which I started to think about leaving.”

Before Janeway could panic, Lynne pulled her in for a passionate kiss, breaking away only to nuzzle her throat. Janeway shivered when Lynne’s low voice sounded right next to her ear. “But when you say it, it just seems right. I do belong to you, Kathryn.” She left a searing trail of kisses and nips as she made her way to the other ear, gently biting the lobe before adding softly, “And to hear you say you belong to me makes me wonder if I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming,” said Janeway as Lynne pulled back. “I went ahead and notified the entire crew.”

“When—oh.” Lynne laughed. “The wedding. Well, that was a mutual announcement. I kind of like Seven’s term for it.”

“ ‘Publicly acknowledged monogamous relationship’?”

“That’s the one.” She leaned down to pick up her jacket. “Can I change now?”

“Do you have to?”

A theatrical sigh answered her. “Well, it’s a good thing I designed this uniform for comfort, because I’ve got a feeling I’ll be living in it for awhile.” She walked into the bedroom and came back out a moment later without the jacket. Heading straight for the replicator, she said, “I’m totally dehydrated. Want some water?”

“Sure.” Janeway picked up a PADD and took it to the couch, where Lynne joined her a moment later with two glasses in hand. “Thank you.”

Lynne finished her water, put the glass on the coffee table, and snuggled into Janeway’s side. “You never answered my original question before getting distracted by your inner lech. Is the Doctor still sulking?”

Janeway put her own glass down and wrapped her arm around Lynne. “Revi says he’s doing better. She’s got a pretty good handle on him. When he deactivated himself I was ready to pull him back out, but she said that was just what he wanted. I think it really surprised him that he sat in the computer for three days without anyone calling for him.”

“I’ll bet that was a wake-up call.”

Janeway nodded. “Revi says they’re working together fairly well, though I think she’s taking a lot more from him than she’s letting on. I know she’s sympathetic to his situation, and I am too, but I hope she doesn’t let him push her too far because of it. You know he’ll try.”

“He’ll try,” Lynne agreed, “but Revi’s got a steel backbone.” She paused, then added, “I didn’t mean that literally. Is her spine an implant?”

“No, but it’s reinforced. And a hell of a lot stronger than steel,” said Janeway. “But your figurative meaning is a good point. If she didn’t let me push her around, I doubt she’ll let the Doctor do it.”

They snuggled in comfortable silence until Janeway reached out for her PADD. “Would you like to watch my messages with me?”

“You haven’t viewed them yet?” Lynne’s surprise colored her voice.

“No, I wanted to wait. I waded through a pile of Starfleet communiqués today, but these I saved until I could sit down and relax with them.”

Lynne sat up. “Kathryn, these are your personal letters. I don’t need to be here for this.”

Which was precisely what Janeway was worried about. She knew that Lynne couldn’t help but feel left out when everyone got mail but her, so she had planned to include her in her own mail call.

“Yes, you do,” she said. “If I belong to you, then my family does too. So these letters are to you just as much as they are to me. The only reason you’re not on the address line is because they didn’t know who you were when they wrote these. Next month will be a different story.”

“That’s pretty sideways logic,” said Lynne. “But I appreciate the intent.” She relaxed against Janeway’s side once more. “So who did we hear from?”

Janeway kissed the top of her head in gratitude for that “we.” She loved the fact that Lynne could see right through her and still play along.

“Well, first up we have a letter from Mark. Not family, per se, but close enough.”

“Ooo, I get to see the man in action. Hit it.”

“What?” Janeway wasn’t sure why Lynne would want her to hit the PADD.

“Sorry. Idiom. It means, ‘play it.’ ”

Janeway committed that one to memory, and briefly wondered how many more idioms Lynne could possibly come up with. She pressed the play button.

“Hello, Kathryn,” said a very familiar voice, as she watched Mark’s image on the PADD. “I hope you don’t mind me including a message in the Janeway packet. Gretchen called me and offered to send something, and I couldn’t turn down the chance to talk to you. I can’t tell you how pleased I was to hear that you’d made contact again. I’m so proud of you.”

“He sure says ‘I’ a lot,” observed Lynne.

“Shh.” But Janeway’s lips twitched. Lynne managed to keep any further commentary to herself as they watched the rest of the message, but the damage was done. Every time Mark said “I” she winced, knowing that Lynne was probably counting. And, she realized, he did use the word with rather grating frequency. Why hadn’t she noticed that when they were engaged? And why hadn’t she noticed how…well, how boring he was? Intelligent, kind, level-headed, gentle…but boring. Before Mark finished talking, she was already wondering what on earth she’d ever seen in him. He was so different from the vibrant, passionate woman at her side.

When the message ended, she waited for the inevitable comment. It didn’t take long.

“So that’s what a moron looks like,” Lynne remarked.

“Lynne!” Janeway stifled a laugh, but only out of an old loyalty.

“What? You’re not actually going to defend him, are you? The man gave you up for lost and married someone else! He had you in his hands and he let you go! You don’t get much more moronic than that.”

“It was his secretary,” Janeway muttered, not entirely sure why she was offering this detail.

Lynne pulled away to look at her directly. “His secretary? Jesus Christ, that was a cliché four hundred years ago!”

Now Janeway did laugh. She couldn’t help it; it felt so good to have Lynne getting up a head of steam on her behalf. “It’s okay, Lynne. That stopped hurting a long time ago. In fact, it didn’t hurt all that much at the time, which was my first clue.”

Lynne settled back in. “Well, I hope he enjoys my message.”

“What?” Janeway ducked her head to catch Lynne’s eye. “You didn’t.”

Lynne gave her a grin that was entirely too large and wholly unrepentant. “Sure I did. Actually it was a thank you note. After all, if he hadn’t been an idiot I would never have had a chance with you. You’re way too principled to have had an affair on him.”

Privately Janeway wasn’t too sure of that, but this was one of those times when honesty was not the best policy. “What did you say?”

“Oh, I just sympathized with him regarding how difficult it must have been to let you go, and told him that you were in good hands now. I might have mentioned that several of the crew have said they’ve never seen you so happy, and that I can’t keep up with you in bed.”

“You did not say that!”

“Oh yes, and did I mention that I was wearing my workout gear when I recorded the message? I made sure I was nice and sweaty, and since I hate just looking into a PADD while I’m talking, I kept myself busy by sharpening my boot knives.”

Janeway burst out laughing. She could picture Lynne doing it, too.

“Please tell me you’re just yanking my chain,” she said once she could speak again.

Lynne looked at her askance. “I can’t believe that one survived into the twenty-fourth century. That’s amazing!”

“That’s from your time?”

“Actually, before my time. Haven’t you ever thought about what it means?”

Janeway shook her head. “Not really. I just know it’s a reference to teasing or joking.”

“Well, the origin dates back to some equipment that you don’t have on Voyager.”

“And? What was it?”

“The original flush toilet. It was gravity feed only, with a tank of water high above the actual toilet bowl. You flushed by pulling a chain that opened a valve.”

“And what, exactly, does that have to do with teasing or kidding?”

“I have no idea.”

Janeway snorted, and Lynne looked indignant. “Hey! I don’t know everything.”

“No,” said Janeway, working hard to keep her face straight, “but you certainly give the impression that you do.”

Lynne elbowed her in the ribs, which started a wrestling match on the couch that only ended when one of them knocked the PADD onto the floor. After mutual recriminations and feeble defenses, they got themselves rearranged and settled down.

“You didn’t really send Mark a message, did you?” asked Janeway, who honestly wasn’t sure.

“I really did.” And Lynne’s smile was too evil for Janeway to doubt her. “He hurt you, Kathryn, and I had a chance to make him eat it. So I took it. I did stretch the truth a little on the knife part, though.”

“Imagine my relief,” said Janeway dryly. “What about the sweaty workout gear?”

“Gospel truth. Shorts and a sport bra. I made sure there was lots of cleavage and that my nipples were at full attention.”

Janeway nearly fell off the couch laughing. Oh, god, she could just picture Mark’s face when he watched that message. She almost felt sorry for him.

Lynne was laughing now, too. “I didn’t tell you at the time because I knew you wouldn’t let me send it. I’m glad to see you’re not mad about it.”

Wiping her eyes, Janeway sat up. “How on earth could I be mad about it? The sexiest woman on this ship, and certainly one of the sexiest Mark has ever seen, tells him that I’m in good hands? It’s priceless.” She wrapped her arms around Lynne and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Thank you, Lynne.”

Lynne returned the hug happily. “You’re welcome. It’s my job to defend your honor, you know. Got any other moronic exes that I need to deal with?”

“Not really,” said Janeway. “There were a few idiots, but they were all a long time ago. And I can’t say that I wasn’t an idiot then, as well.”

Lynne nodded with understanding. “I’ve been there. I just stopped being an idiot last year.”

“No you didn’t.”

And that precipitated another wrestling match, which ended with Lynne pinning Janeway to the couch and demanding a surrender. Janeway, laughing too hard to fight back, gave up willingly and got a sweet kiss for her reward. Once again they sat up and straightened out their clothes.

“I can honestly say that this is the most fun I’ve ever had during mail call,” said Janeway, recovering the PADD from its second trip onto the floor.

“Me too,” said Lynne. “I hope they’re all like this.”

“Ready for a letter from my sister?”

“Yes. I really am looking forward to seeing Phoebe. You’ve talked so much about her.”

“Don’t ever tell her that. Her ego would never recover from the instant bloat.” Janeway activated the next message, and felt a lump rise in her throat as her obnoxious, beloved sister smiled at her.

“Hey shrimp,” said Phoebe. Lynne muffled a snort, and Janeway pinched her in a particularly sensitive spot.

“Don’t get a big head or anything, but I’ve missed you like crazy. Obviously Mother has too, but god, you took ten years off her shoulders when you contacted the MIDAS array. When she called me I couldn’t believe it was the same woman. I know you’re doing everything you can, but please don’t let anything happen to you. It would kill Mother, and it would even bother me a little bit.”

Janeway watched raptly as Phoebe filled her in on her latest artistic successes, her most recent crash-and-burn love affair—“she doesn’t have any other kind,” Janeway told Lynne—and the fact that she’d run into Mark in San Francisco and found him to be as soporific as ever.

“Oh, I like her,” said Lynne.

Janeway just pulled her closer, not taking her eyes off the image.

“That’s about all the news that’s fit to tell. Now for the news that’s not fit: Starfleet is making the most of your long-distance call and your ‘against all odds’ success. I can’t turn on the FedComm unit without seeing your face. Thank god they’re using images from your most recent logs, is all I can say. The haircut looks great. It’s about time you got rid of that starchy bun.

“When you get back home, you’d better be ready. They’ll be putting you on recruitment vids all over the Federation. You’re a star, Kathryn. The Dominion War has really decimated the ‘Fleet, and you’re the best news they’ve had in a long time. They’re going to jump all over you as a shining example of what Starfleet was and can be again. I don’t know if anyone else will tell you that, so I am. I know you’ll get home somehow, and I know how much you hate surprises. So consider this a favor.

“Guess that’s it. I can’t wait to get your message and see what you’ve been up to. I love you, Kathryn. Get your ass home.”

Janeway felt tears rising to her eyes at Phoebe’s final words. They’d never been overly affectionate with each other, and she could count on less than one hand the number of times either of them had said they loved the other. It meant so much to hear it now. Home had never seemed so close—nor so far away.

Lynne wrapped both arms around her and held her tightly, and Janeway briefly rested her head against Lynne’s. Then she gently pulled the arms away. “I’m all right,” she said. “Come on, let’s see what Mom has to say.” And then I might not be all right anymore.

With a hand that shook ever so slightly, she accessed the last message and hit the play button.

Her mother regarded her intently, a slight smile on her face. “Kathryn, my darling. There’s so much to say, and none of it means anything at all compared to knowing that you’re safe and so much closer to home. It’s been so hard to keep the faith—we never knew if you got our last messages, when you made contact through that alien array. And we never saw you. But now Owen Paris assures us that we can count on getting a real message from you, and I can’t tell you how much I long to see your face…”

She stopped speaking for a moment, turning her head to one side as she fought for control, and Janeway didn’t even try to stop her tears. They rolled silently down her face as she saw the ravages her absence had wrought on her mother.

Gretchen Janeway mastered herself with a steel tempered through years of watching both husband and daughter put themselves in danger. With the same slight smile she’d shown at the beginning, she caught Janeway up on news of the farm, their neighbors, a host of Starfleet admirals and captains they’d known through the years, and various tidbits about Phoebe that her sister had neglected to mention, most of which were highly amusing.

“I won’t tell you to be safe or come home soon,” she said, when the news had run dry. “I know that getting your crew home is your top priority, and you’ll do whatever you have to. How you’ve gotten as far as you have is nothing short of a miracle, and I keep praying for more miracles to fall your way. Thank you for making this possible—it’s so much easier to keep the faith now. I can’t wait to get your message and see my daughter again. I love you, Kathryn. Please take care of yourself. Let yourself be happy.” She blew a kiss, and the image ended.

Janeway stared at the dark PADD, an apparently endless supply of tears running down her cheeks. She’d been crying nonstop through the message and didn’t seem to be slowing down.

A small choked sound cut through her emotion, and she turned in surprise to see Lynne looking at her, her hand to her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” asked Janeway.

Lynne shook her head and turned away, but her trembling shoulders told the story. Janeway wrapped her arms around her and pulled her back. “Lynne, talk to me.”

All she got was another vehement shake of the head, and Lynne began to cry in earnest. Janeway held on, waiting. Finally Lynne gasped, “My mom,” and Janeway’s sudden understanding shattered her own tenuous control. Tightening her arms, she let her own grief go, her sobs mingling with Lynne’s.

Almost immediately Lynne broke her hold and turned around, gathering her up and cradling her. “I’m sorry, love,” she whispered.

It felt good to be held like this, here in the quiet of their quarters, and Janeway allowed herself to relax into it for a few minutes. Then she straightened up, wiping the tears off her face. “Why are you sorry?”

Lynne gave her a watery smile. “I was trying to be strong for you. Guess I didn’t do so well.”

Janeway pushed a few strands of hair off Lynne’s face. “I’m the one who should be sorry. If I’d been thinking I would have realized what those messages would bring up for you.”

“No.” Lynne was adamant. “I loved seeing your sister and your mom. It just hit me all of a sudden. Your mom…she’s hurting so much. And I realized what my mom must have felt when she watched my message…” She stopped and took in a deep breath. “Kathryn?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“Remember when I said I wasn’t all that invested in getting back to Earth?”

Janeway nodded.

“I changed my mind. You have to get back to them. That woman needs you. God, I feel selfish enjoying myself here, with you, when your family is in that kind of pain.”

Smiling, Janeway undid the band holding Lynne’s braid in place and indulged herself in the sensual feel of running her fingers through the thick hair. “Don’t you dare feel selfish,” she said. “You’re doing exactly what my mom wants. Don’t you remember the last thing she said?”

Lynne shook her head.

“She told me to let myself be happy. I didn’t do that until you came into my life. If Mom were here right now, she’d tell you to stop with the selfish nonsense and enjoy yourself with me just as much as you possibly can. And then she’d tell me I finally found the right one, and wasn’t it just like me to go seventy thousand light years away to do it.”

Lynne chuckled, then sniffed. “Thirty-five thousand,” she said. “You were halfway home before you found me.”

“That’s because I had to pick up Seven first.”

Lynne sniffed again, nodded, then wrapped her arms around Janeway’s waist and rested her head on her chest. Janeway held her close, stroking her back. When Lynne showed no signs of moving or saying anything else, Janeway reached one hand out for the PADD, deactivated the sound, and played her mother’s message again. She watched her mother’s face intently, reading the years of worry and grief written there, and when the message ended she, too, had found new impetus in her desire to return home. She’d always been driven to get her crew home, but now she wanted it for herself just as much.

She put the PADD down and resumed her stroking of Lynne’s back. And then, from nowhere it seemed, a rumble of laughter made its way up her throat.

Lynne pulled back. “What?”

“I was just wondering,” Janeway said, her laughter bubbling out, “what on earth Mark thought when he saw your message. God, Phoebe is going to love you. You have got to tell her about that in your next message; she’ll be your biggest fan.”

Lynne’s expression relaxed, and her eyes crinkled up as she smiled. “I can do better than tell her.” She disentangled herself from Janeway’s grasp, walked over to her desk, and came back with a PADD. “Here you go.”

“You made a copy?”

Lynne nodded, settling back onto the couch. Janeway activated the message and immediately snorted when she saw Lynne’s image on the screen. “You weren’t kidding! Could you possibly have been more overtly sexy? Nice nipples, by the way.”

The image on the screen showed Lynne in her form-fitting workout shorts and sports bra, sweaty as promised, and with her hair down around her shoulders. Since Lynne always kept her hair up during a workout, Janeway knew this was strictly for Mark’s benefit. The message had been recorded right here on the couch, and as Lynne earnestly expressed her understanding of Mark’s decision, then assured him that Janeway was in good hands, she rested her elbows on the back of the couch in a casual manner. But Janeway was certain the pose was anything but casual: it threw her breasts into prominence, exposed her toned abdominals, and made her shoulder and arm muscles bulge. It was a performance that only got better when Lynne gracefully crossed one long, bare leg over the other as she continued to speak to Mark as if he were her best buddy. Then she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs and exposing a lovely amount of cleavage as she began speaking more softly. Janeway instinctively ducked her face closer to the screen to hear, and then realized that was just what Lynne had intended as she confided that she had been forced to take vitamin supplements in order to keep up with Janeway in the bedroom.

At that, Janeway lost it altogether and dissolved with laughter, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “Oh my god, you actually said that!”

“I told you I did,” said Lynne. “I was kidding about telling your family, but not about this.”

They watched the rest of the message together, with Lynne providing occasional commentary that added to the hilarity, and when it ended Janeway held the PADD to her chest like a treasure.

“May I keep this?”

“It’s your copy,” said Lynne. “I meant to give it to you all along, but I wasn’t about to let you see it until the packet was gone.”

“Very prudent of you,” said Janeway, “but I’d like to think I wouldn’t have interfered.”

Lynne raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Janeway conceded. “I’d have been much too concerned with Mark’s feelings, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fully enjoy it now. I think I’ll keep this in my ready room for the times when the stress level gets too high. This is just hilarious, Lynne. God, I had no idea you were such an actress. My only regret is that I can’t be there to see his eyeballs pop right out of his head.”

“Well, I have to admit I’m glad you’re reacting this way,” said Lynne.

“Can I show it to Revi?”

“Hey, it’s your reputation. You do whatever you want with it.”

Janeway had quite a few truly evil thoughts about what she wanted to do with it, but concluded that discretion might be the best policy in this instance. For now, anyway.

“Actually, it’s your reputation too. When Phoebe sees this, your reputation in my family will be made. You won’t have to do anything else; they’ll love you. And I get to look good by proxy.”

“Not by proxy,” said Lynne.

Janeway put the PADD on the table and drew Lynne into her arms. After several minutes of contented snuggling, Lynne spoke up.

“Kathryn?”

“Mm hmm?”

“I don’t suppose you can make me a vid like that. You know, tank top, sweat, bulging muscles?”

“Not on your life.”

“Damn.”

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 13

 

 

The next day began with a senior staff meeting to discuss the possibilities of future communication with the Alpha Quadrant. Seven and Harry had gone over Lieutenant Barclay’s theories and pronounced them a good starting point, though there was a great deal to be done before they could come up with a working theory. After additional input from B’Elanna, Janeway put Seven in charge of developing the concept, with B’Elanna and Harry as her team. “Operation Bell” was a top priority, and when the meeting ended the staff members immediately began talking excitedly amongst themselves, anticipating daily communication with home. A solution might still be months away, but Seven was confident that the concept was feasible. And if Seven was confident, then as far as Janeway was concerned, it was a done deal.

Returning to her ready room, Janeway began to wade through all of the news that had arrived in yesterday’s mail packet. It was the lowest priority of the information received, but she had been looking forward to catching up on what was happening in the Federation. A lot had happened in the last six years, and it took her the rest of the day just to skim through the highlights. She read through in chronological order, so it wasn’t until the end that she came across the article that sent a chill down her spine. Only one month ago, the Federation had been rocked by the news that the Hamilton Foundation was pulling funds from every aspect of space research except for faster-than-warp propulsion.

She abandoned her skimming and did a data search on the topic. Her screen lit up with dozens of news stories, analyses and political columns dissecting the Foundation’s decision, none of which had any more details than the original article. Dr. Alison Necheyev, the CEO of the Foundation, was repeatedly quoted but managed never to say anything concrete.

Necheyev? Surely not.

But a second data search showed that Dr. Alison Necheyev, niece to Fleet Admiral Alynna Necheyev of Starfleet, had been named CEO of the Hamilton Foundation six years ago—immediately after Voyager had been pulled into the Delta Quadrant. Janeway examined an image of her in one of the articles. Oh yes, definitely Necheyev’s niece. The blond hair and narrow, Slavic features were there, and she held her chin up in the very same manner. She didn’t have quite the same hard-as-duranium expression, however. Considering that her job probably involved a great deal of politicking, that wasn’t surprising.

Janeway sat back in her chair, thinking hard. Her first impulse was to keep this from Lynne. The ramifications of the Foundation’s move were enormous, and she knew Lynne would be very upset once she understood them. The Foundation had been a touchy subject from the moment Janeway had first told her about it, and she didn’t see how Lynne could do a thing about the current situation, so why get her upset for nothing?

Her second thought contradicted the first. She herself had insisted on total honesty in their relationship; it was an outgrowth of their problems dealing with Lynne’s tendency not to share things. They’d even written a mutual promise of honesty and openness into their wedding vows. That had been Lynne’s idea; she had wanted to give Janeway a more concrete version of the promise she’d made when she had proposed.

No, Janeway couldn’t keep this from Lynne. But she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.

 

 

-----

 

 

“They did what?”

Janeway knew Lynne had heard her. She waited as her wife paced back and forth in their living room, finally stopping in front of her.

“This is about me, isn’t it?”

Janeway nodded. “I’m just guessing, of course, but the timing is too perfect to be coincidental. The Foundation’s announcement came just five days after our first contact with MIDAS, which is the first anyone in the Federation knew of your existence. They want to get you home, Lynne. That’s what the Foundation has always been about. So this shouldn’t be too surprising.”

Lynne collapsed onto the couch. “But all those agencies, universities and think tanks you showed me when I got back from Earth—they’ve all had their funding pulled? I don’t know much about that kind of thing, Kathryn, but I can guess what that’s done to a lot of people. Not to mention Starfleet.”

“It’s more than that.” Janeway quickly outlined the political ramifications of the Foundation’s decision, wincing at the expression on Lynne’s face.

“So you’re telling me that I’m single-handedly responsible for a fundamental shift in governmental power?”

Janeway reached for Lynne’s hand. “Don’t take that on yourself. You didn’t have any say in this. The Foundation has its own set of policies and its own mission.”

“Yeah, based on me.” Lynne ran her free hand through her unbound hair. “This feels very weird, Kathryn. I don’t like it.”

Janeway flashed back to a memory of herself telling a still-green Ensign Kim that in Starfleet, weird was part of the job. She didn’t think Lynne would appreciate the sentiment right now.

“Lynne, your parents couldn’t have known how powerful the Foundation would become. I’m sure they never anticipated anything like this. But they established the Foundation out of love for you, so maybe you should just take this as a sign of that love and let it go at that. You can’t do anything about it anyway.”

Lynne pulled her legs up on the couch and leaned back against the arm. “Maybe I can. Maybe I need to start thinking about asserting myself in the Foundation. I’ve been avoiding even considering it, since it wasn’t likely to become an issue for the foreseeable future, but that’s obviously changed. I think it might be time to suck it up and deal with the legacy my parents left me.”

“What do you suppose you can do from here?”

“I can tell them not to divert the funding.”

“And you think they’ll just accept your word that you are who you say you are?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Janeway almost laughed. Lynne was so intelligent that Janeway sometimes forgot how completely naïve she was regarding politics and business.

“Because there’s an enormous amount of money and power at play,” she said, “and I suspect the people who hold it aren’t going to be happy to take orders from a woman thirty-four thousand light years away. You can try, Lynne, but it might be an uphill battle. I suspect that your parents intended for you to take control of the Foundation once you returned, not from out here.” She couldn’t resist the opportunity to play Devil’s advocate. “Besides, are you so sure you don’t want that kind of funding devoted to bringing us home?”

Lynne gave her a look of disbelief. “You’re joking. You’d be the first person to reject this. The fate of one hundred and forty-eight people versus the political stability of the Federation?”

Janeway shrugged. “Of the quadrant, actually.”

“Now I know you’re joking. It’s not funny, Kathryn.”

“No, it’s not, but it’s bigger than we are. This may not be a battle we can fight. Yet.”

Lynne frowned. “I need to get a message to that CEO. Alison?”

“Dr. Alison Necheyev. And if Seven does what I think she can do, you might be able to speak with her directly.”

“Oh yes, I forgot. How did the staff meeting go?”

“Good. I think we’ve got a shot at visual communication within two months. We’re calling it Operation Bell.”

“Bell? As in Alexander Graham?”

“Mm hm. That was Tom’s idea.”

“Tom needs to update his history files. Alexander Graham Bell didn’t invent the telephone.”

“He didn’t?” This was news to Janeway.

“Nope. He just stole it from the guy who did. I think you should change your name to Operation Meucci.”

“I sense a story from the history professor.” Janeway settled herself in. “What happened?”

“Meucci was a poor Italian immigrant to New York. He built a working telephone prototype, but didn’t know how to get financial backing for it. He spent ten years trying. Then he was severely burned in an explosion on a steamship, and while he was in the hospital his wife sold his prototype in an effort to raise money. When he finally got out of the hospital he frantically recreated his prototype, but he couldn’t afford to buy a full patent. So he bought a caveat instead, which was an intent to file, and had to be renewed every year until the full patent was bought. He sent his prototype to Western Union Telegraph, the biggest communication company in the nation at that time, and spent two years trying to get an audience with a vice president there—but they kept putting him off. When he asked for his prototype back, they told him it was lost. It miraculously showed up again two years later, when Bell filed for patent. The trouble was that Meucci hadn’t kept his renewals up, and his caveat had expired. So Bell got the patent. Turned out that there were some nasty little deals between Bell, the U.S. Patent Office, and Western Union, involving a shitload of money. Meucci brought suit, but Bell had better lawyers and a lot more cash. So even though Meucci had the support of the U.S. government, which prosecuted Bell for fraud, Bell somehow managed to keep himself out of the courts for ten years—until Meucci died. Then the U.S. dropped the case, the world forgot about Meucci, and Bell was immortalized as the inventor of the telephone. Geez, am I going to have to go back to work for Slater and Johnson? It sounds like your history files still need some accuracy checks.”

“That’s probably true,” said Janeway, “but I need you more. Now that I’ve finally gotten used to the concept of a personal security escort, I’m not about to let you go.”

Lynne stared at her, an enormous smile spreading over her face. “That’s a lovely thing to hear. Thank you.” She pushed off the couch arm and proceeded to show Janeway precisely how she felt about that statement, and Janeway felt no guilt whatsoever at her intentional use of a distraction.

 

 

-----

 

 

Over the course of the next month Janeway had several opportunities to utilize her new personal security escort. It didn’t take her long to conclude that this was the best idea Tuvok had ever had. It gave her more opportunities to be with her wife, and Lynne practically glowed with excitement every time they left the ship. Only once had her specialized services actually been necessary—ironically enough, not when Janeway was acting in an official capacity. They’d finished bartering for some mechanical supplies and had retired to a local bar to relax before returning to the ship. Off the clock and enjoying each other’s company, they were on their second drinks when a group of four men approached their table, obviously interested in more than polite conversation. Janeway had declined the pleasure of their company, but her words apparently hadn’t penetrated. Lynne stood up and warned them off in a voice Janeway hadn’t heard before, and while she was looking at her bristling wife in surprise, one of the men had made a grab for her.

Lynne had exploded. That was the only way Janeway could describe the flurry of motion—she hadn’t even been able to follow her moves. The only one she really saw was the first, when Lynne had stepped into the man reaching for Janeway and dispatched him with a single blow to the throat. The other three fell like dummies on an Academy firing range; Janeway barely had time to save her drink when one of them crashed onto the table. In seconds it was over, and all four men were picking themselves up and sidling away.

Janeway had looked at the carnage and then at her wife. “Don’t you think that was a little excessive?”

“No one touches you.” Lynne was still bristling. “It’s too risky.”

This was an old argument between Janeway and Tuvok. Tuvok felt the captain was too lax in her personal security, not giving sufficient concern to the possibility of skin-patch poisons, wrist-mounted hypos or any number of concealed weapons that were deadly at close range. Letting anyone within the range of physical touch was, in his opinion, far too dangerous. Janeway felt that the danger was overstated, and she hated being treated like a porcelain doll. So she’d ordered Tuvok to relax. He had obeyed, but only after registering a formal protest.

“Lynne, there’s not—”

“I said, no one touches you.”

Janeway had looked into Lynne’s unyielding gaze and suddenly understood exactly what Tuvok had done. He had manipulated circumstances so that she would end up with the one individual on her personal security detail who could override her wishes. Certainly she could order Lynne to relax, as she had Tuvok, and Lynne would obey—for exactly as long as it took them to reach their quarters. Then a pitched battle would break out, and Janeway would have no peace until she gave in. She could see it in Lynne’s eyes. This wasn’t a battle worth fighting.

Those Vulcans were a wily bunch.

“You know, you could at least have left one for me,” she’d said. “It’s been forever since I was in a good bar fight.”

Lynne had looked at her incredulously, then burst into laughter. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time. Shall we go before we attract any more trouble?”

After that, Janeway had no more concerns for Lynne’s safety on away missions—at least, not as far as her ability to defend against physical attack. There were other risks that could not be defended against, but she knew she’d drive herself insane worrying about them, so she eventually managed to push that concern into a corner of her mind. Part of her would always worry, every time they went out, but on the whole she preferred worrying about Lynne while they were together to worrying about her while they were apart.

Operation Meucci had been entirely successful, with Seven, B’Elanna and Harry completing a working theory in time for their next transmission to MIDAS. The current communication conduit was created by the MIDAS lab directing a tachyon beam at an itinerant class B pulsar, producing a micro-singularity through which a real-time data stream could be passed. The limitations were two-fold: the pulsar only came within range of the MIDAS array once a month, and the energy involved in creating the singularity was so vast that only a tiny conduit could be opened for a very short time, allowing for data and voice transmission but no live imagery. Operation Meucci bypassed those limitations by utilizing a natural singularity located slightly outside MIDAS’ normal range. Building on Lieutenant Barclay’s concept, Seven and her team had determined that by boosting MIDAS’ output and directing a phased tachyon beam at the singularity, a similar but much larger conduit could be opened, allowing for visual data streams. Voyager could then pick up and return the signal once certain modifications were made to its deflector dish. The theory had one limitation, and that was that the natural singularity would only be in the required alignment to MIDAS for eleven minutes each day. Still, eleven minutes of visual contact each day was far better than one quick data stream per month. It would allow honest-to-god calls home, and the boost to crew morale would be incalculable.

The few minutes of time during their next MIDAS transmission was devoted to discussing Operation Meucci, and Lieutenant Barclay’s voice was trembling with excitement. Janeway had no doubt that he’d be spending twenty-six hours a day in the lab until he could get it to work. They agreed that Janeway would orient Voyager and initialize the deflector modifications once a week at an assigned time, in order to “pick up the phone” should Barclay’s efforts be successful. By the time their transmission ended, the excitement of the bridge crew was palpable. Janeway cautioned them against expecting too much, but she knew her words fell on deaf ears. Besides, she couldn’t even control her own sense of anticipation. The idea of both seeing and speaking with her family again—and for more than a few seconds—was absolutely thrilling. She had no doubts that Barclay would eventually be successful. What she really hoped for, however, was that he could pull it off in time for her to arrange a birthday transmission for Lynne.

By the time she and Lynne had reached the point in their relationship where such personal information as birth dates were exchanged, they had both already had theirs. It turned out that their birthdays were only eighteen days apart, with Lynne’s coming first on the second of May. She would be turning forty-five. That date was rapidly approaching, and Janeway’s greatest wish was that she could give Lynne a real family tie to Earth in the form of a birthday call from her mother and sister. She had another gift cooked up which she knew Lynne would absolutely love, but with any luck she might be able to make this an even more special occasion.

She and Chakotay had already decided that, should Operation Meucci be successful, they would use a lottery system to determine the order in which personnel had access to the comm system. Data transmissions of logs and letters would run beneath the video transmissions, allowing daily contact for all crew with only a twenty-four hour delay in response time—but what everyone was waiting for was a chance to call home. Given an eleven-minute daily time limit, they had decided to reserve two for Starfleet business and allot the other nine for three-minute personal communications. With one hundred and forty-eight people on board, it would take fifty days before everyone had an opportunity to speak with a loved one, and that was discounting any important Starfleet communications that might pre-empt the personal time. So her birthday wish for Lynne involved not only Barclay’s success, but her own luck in drawing an early number in the lottery system.

When she went home that evening after her shift, Lynne was sitting on the couch with a PADD in her hand and a look of wonder on her face. Janeway knew exactly what was on that PADD, and mentally thanked her mother and Phoebe for responding.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said, dropping onto the couch next to her. “Something interesting?”

The expression in Lynne’s eyes was almost heartbreaking. “I got two messages. From your mom and your sister.”

“Really? Anything I can see, or is it private?”

“God, Kathryn, I can hardly imagine how anything from your family could be private. Yes, you can see them.” She handed the PADD over, and Janeway activated the first message. It was from Phoebe, congratulating Lynne on landing her sister, and then commiserating with her for the burden she’d just taken on. She offered several pieces of entirely inappropriate advice, talked about the wedding vid, asked Lynne a few questions about herself, and ended with a heartfelt expression of joy that Lynne had joined their family.

Thank you, Phoebe. I couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect.

Janeway put her arm around Lynne and pulled her in for a hug. “She loves you already. And this was before she saw the copy of that message to Mark.”

Lynne laughed. “So you sent it, then.”

“Of course I sent it! Pass up an opportunity like that? I think not. Now, about this advice—”

“Don’t worry, I discounted all of it—”

“Good.”

“—because I already know how to handle you better than that. She’s years behind in knowing who you are. I think I’ll give her an update.”

Janeway pulled back and saw the self-satisfied smirk on Lynne’s face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.”

Lynne poked her in the ribs. “I’m just teasing you. My first loyalty is always to you, love. But I do have to wonder why her view of you is so different from mine. Is it the ‘sister filter,’ or is it that you’ve changed that much in six years?”

Janeway gave the question serious consideration. “I’d have to say a little of the first and a lot of the second. I’m definitely not the same person I was when I left Earth. And I’m not the same person I was before I met you.”

“Hm. Does that mean you’re better or worse since meeting me?”

“Better, of course. Didn’t you read your Marriage Handbook? Page ninety-six tells you exactly how to answer that one.”

“There’s a manual? How come I didn’t get it? Shit, I’ve been figuring all this out on my own.”

“And doing a fine job of it, too.” Janeway leaned in for a kiss, only to find a firm hand on her chest.

“Don’t think I can’t see patronization from six kilometers out, Captain. You’d better try that again.”

Janeway let her teasing smile slide away and looked at Lynne with an open heart. “You saved me from losing myself. I was slowly forgetting how to be Kathryn, since all I could be was the Captain. You brought me back from that edge. Of course I’m a better person since I met you. Because I’m whole again.”

The stunned look on Lynne’s face was priceless. “You really do have a manual. I was going to give you a hard time, but now I can’t remember what the hell I was thinking. That was an incredibly sweet thing to say.”

“No, that was a true thing to say.”

Lynne gave her the kiss she’d denied earlier, and it was worth the wait. It took Janeway a few minutes to remember there was still a message to be viewed.

“So what did my mom say?”

Lynne leaned her head on Janeway’s shoulder. “Enough to make me cry. Go ahead.”

Keeping her arm around Lynne’s waist, Janeway activated the PADD. There was her mom with a welcoming smile on her face. As she spoke, there was no doubt that Gretchen Janeway was absolutely thrilled with the knowledge that her daughter had finally married, and to such a special woman. She thanked Lynne and told her that she looked forward very much to meeting her in person.

“Kathryn told me what you gave up to be with her, Lynne. She had a look on her face that I have never seen on her before, but I recognized it. It’s the same expression I used to see on my husband’s face when he looked at me—and later, when he looked at Kathryn and Phoebe. It’s a kind of love that I always hoped she’d find. I am so grateful to you for being there and loving her, but as a mother, I’m also grieving for both your loss and that of your parents. I can’t do anything about your parents, but perhaps you might accept me as a second mother? Because I’d love to call you my daughter. I hope you don’t think me presumptuous; my offer comes from the heart.”

By the time the message ended, Janeway had tears in her eyes. She should have known her mom would come through; her own sense of compassion had been instilled in her by Gretchen’s example. But she hadn’t expected anything quite like this.

“Well, what are you going to tell her?” she asked, her voice intentionally light.

Lynne sniffed. “I’m going to tell her that I’d be honored. And that I hope she’s ready for a daughter who might need a lot of hugs.”

Janeway tightened her arm and kissed Lynne’s cheek. “She’ll be ready. She gives great hugs, and somehow she always smells like cinnamon.”

“Thank you for doing that for me.”

Janeway pulled back. “I didn’t. All I did was ask them to write you. Mom’s offer is hers alone, and I can tell you that it’s not anything she’s done before. You’re the only person she has ever offered to take into our family. And you’d better watch out, because that offer means she will treat you like her own. You’ve just acquired a parent who will worry about you, tell you when she thinks you’re making the wrong decision, and ask you why you aren’t eating enough.”

“It sounds like heaven,” whispered Lynne.

 

 

-----

 

 

The first week after Operation Meucci had been put into effect, Tom oriented Voyager and Seven activated the deflector modifications at the appointed time. The bridge crew had agreed amongst themselves that they didn’t expect much; one week was a ridiculously short time for Starfleet to have completed the modifications necessary to the MIDAS lab. In spite of that, when the time came and went with no sign of contact, there was a general deflation of spirits. It was hard not to hope for a miracle.

A week later Janeway found herself being forced to parley with an aggressive species that had intercepted them at just the wrong time and demanded a “toll” if they wished to be allowed passage through the area. Janeway didn’t want an unnecessary fight, but the clock was ticking and she would not let some little piss ant neighborhood bully get in her way. When diplomacy wasn’t working quickly enough, she ordered Tuvok to take out their weapons. Unfortunately, the bully had friends they hadn’t detected hiding in a nearby nebula, and Voyager found itself in the middle of a major space battle. By the time they disabled enough ships to secure their own escape, they were past the deadline. Janeway was furious—and more than a little tempted to go back and kick some serious ass on the remaining ships they hadn’t disabled, just to get it out of her system.

The third week found them in a peaceful sector, with nothing between them and a successful transfer. They held their collective breaths as Tom put Voyager into position and Seven activated the deflector modifications.

“I’m picking up a phased tachyon beam,” reported Harry.

“There’s triaxialating signal encoded in it,” added Seven.

“On screen,” said Janeway.

An image of two men in Starfleet uniforms briefly appeared on screen, then vanished in a cloud of interference. The audio was equally broken up.

“Voyager, this…Lieutenant…fleet command…you receiving this?”

Janeway turned to Seven. “Can you clear it up?”

“I’m attempting to do so now.”

The image resolved itself into Admiral Owen Paris and Lieutenant Barclay. Both had ear to ear grins.

Admiral Paris looked briefly at his son before focusing on Janeway. “Captain Janeway, it’s a pleasure to finally talk to you in person.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Admiral. How’s the weather in San Francisco?”

“Cold and rainy, as usual.”

Janeway felt a wave of homesickness. “It sounds delightful. Lieutenant Barclay, my congratulations on establishing the first transgalactic comm link. You’ve earned a place in the history books.”

“Your team deserves at least half of the credit, Captain,” said Barclay, flushing a deep red.

Janeway gave him a smile. “Just be sure to thank us when you accept the Daystrom prize.”

“I will. Uh, Admiral?”

Paris looked at him in some confusion, then his face cleared. “Oh yes.” He turned back toward Janeway. “Mr. Barclay has arranged a small gift for you and your crew.”

The image abruptly changed to a view of Earth, in all its blue and green glory. Every member of the bridge crew sucked in their breath. Barclay’s voice came over the link.

“This is a live image from McKinley Station. Not too much cloud cover over North America today.”

Janeway could barely get her voice to work. “That’s…quite a view. Thank you, Reg.” She didn’t realize that she’d addressed him in such a familiar manner until the image changed back, and she saw the beaming smile on Barclay’s face.

“You’re welcome, Captain. And may I say that it’s an honor to meet you face to face.”

“It’s an honor for me as well, Lieutenant. We owe you a great debt. Home feels a lot closer today than it ever has.”

Barclay nodded seriously. “Now that we have the comm link working, Captain, I’m being transferred to a different project. I’ll be devoting my time to figuring out any way to speed up your journey.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. With you on our team I don’t see how we can go wrong.”

He flushed again and actually looked at his feet. Janeway kept her amusement off her face, but it wasn’t easy.

“Admiral, is there anything that we should be aware of as long as we have the link up and running?”

“No,” he said, “this was just a test, so besides me there’s no official Starfleet presence at the moment. You can bet you’ll be seeing a bevy of brass tomorrow, though. I know you’ll be wanting to devote comm time to your crew, but please reserve tomorrow’s transmission for Starfleet business. There are quite a few flag officers who want to see you.”

“I understand.” And the politicking begins. “Then if there’s nothing else, Admiral, would it be too much trouble to see that view from McKinley Station again? I’ve got a ship full of people who deserve a good long look at it.”

Admiral Paris nodded. “Until tomorrow, then. Goodbye, Captain.” He glanced at Tom again, allowing a pleased smile to cross his face. The image changed back to Earth, slowly rotating under a light layer of clouds.

Janeway punched the code into her console to activate a ship-wide video feed. “All hands, this is the captain. I’m pleased to report that Operation Meucci was a complete success. If you’ll proceed to the nearest video monitor, you can see a live image from McKinley Station. Congratulations, everyone.”

Though the bridge was soundproofed, she swore she could hear the cheers. The bridge itself was dead silent as they all stared in fascination. After a minute or so, Barclay’s voice came over the link again.

“Captain, since we’re devoting the rest of the transmission to a video feed, I thought you might like a few different views.”

She didn’t know how he’d pulled it off on such short notice, but before their time ran out they were treated to views of Mars, the Utopia Planitia ship yards, Vulcan and Betazed, ending once again with Earth. During all that time there wasn’t a sound on the bridge except the occasional chirp from a console.

“The singularity will be moving out of alignment in fifteen seconds, Captain. I’m sorry I couldn’t show you more.”

Janeway swallowed. “You’ve shown us more than we expected, Lieutenant. Thank you. Janeway out.”

The transmission ended, and Seven put the forward sensors back on the main viewer. They all looked at each other in stunned silence before Janeway spoke again. “Mr. Neelix was prepared for our possible success. I believe the party will begin right about—” she checked her chronometer—“now.” The laughter broke the mood on the bridge and Janeway settled in her chair, her mind whirling with the ramifications of daily contact with the Alpha quadrant and Starfleet. She hadn’t been alone since their first contact almost four months ago, but daily contact changed everything. Suddenly she had superiors again, on a regular check-in basis. And, judging by Admiral Paris’ comments, she had political responsibilities as well. It was ironic—after more than six years of longing for this, now she was wondering what the hell she was in for. She knew her command style had changed considerably over the years. It was a necessary response to their circumstances; had kept them alive and knit them together as a family—but was it anything that Starfleet would approve of? Good god, she hadn’t given any real thought to her career in ages; that kind of thinking tended to take a back seat when one was fighting for basic survival. Now it was staring her in the face, and she was assailed by doubts. There were a number of actions and decisions in her logs that could be interpreted unfavorably.

Then her thoughts drifted back to Phoebe’s message, when she’d warned Janeway about her celebrity status. If Starfleet wanted her on recruitment vids, then she had a lot of clout in her corner. And she wasn’t afraid to use it.

 

 

-----

 

 

The next morning, in response to a communiqué that Admiral Paris had included in their first visual transmission, Janeway went to the conference room to receive her call in private. What she hadn’t expected was the instruction that Lynne be standing by to take part when asked. What the hell did Starfleet brass want with Lynne?

While Lynne waited in the hall outside, Janeway took a position in front of the large monitor. Harry notified her of the incoming transmission not thirty seconds later, and she watched as the Starfleet logo gave way to an image of—Jesus, every single admiral in Starfleet, apparently. She felt her spine stiffen of its own accord.

Admiral Necheyev, her direct supervisor, spoke first. “Captain Janeway. It’s good to see you again.”

Janeway forced herself to relax. “Thank you, Admiral. It’s good to see you as well. All of you.”

Necheyev gave her a tight smile. “Captain Janeway, no captain in the history of Starfleet has ever actually been pleased to see a roomful of admirals. Are you trying to tell me you’re different?”

That question could mean any number of things. Janeway took the safe way out.

“I’ll admit the sight of so much brass is a little blinding, Admiral. But given that I haven’t seen any of it in six years, yes, it’s a pleasure to see all of you.”

Admiral Paris laughed easily. “It’s more than a pleasure to see you, Captain. We’ve been waiting a long time for this. Starfleet has had its share of bad news in the last several years; it’s nice to have something positive to work with. Let me introduce you to some of the people you may not recognize.”

In the end it was really just a public relations stunt. Janeway knew, by the easy and general questions they asked her, that this was all being recorded for release to Federation news outlets. They didn’t ask about the Borg alterations to the ship, her Maquis and Borg crew members, species 8472, or anything that could be considered remotely delicate. Instead, precious transmission time was wasted on how she felt about making live video contact with the Federation, how she’d held her crew together for the last six years, how morale was aboard Voyager these days…and her personal favorite, from an admiral she didn’t recognize: why hadn’t she changed over to the new uniforms? She informed him that energy was their most limiting resource, and refitting the entire crew with new uniforms wasn’t as high on her list as, say, replicating parts for the plasma relays. Then she smiled to defuse her answer and said, “We’re planning to celebrate our arrival in the Alpha Quadrant by changing over to the new uniforms. Given that we’ve already covered forty-two thousand light years in a little over six Earth Standard years, I’m hopeful that we’ll be home before you change them again.”

That got her a laugh, and the next two minutes passed quickly. At the five-minute mark, Admiral Necheyev called a halt to the proceedings and, after bidding a formal farewell to Janeway and asking her to remain for her next caller, led the admirals out of the room. A bare second later an attractive blonde woman in civilian clothing stepped into view, and Janeway recognized Dr. Alison Necheyev. She kept her face blank, but inside she was reeling. This woman had just cleared out an entire roomful of admirals, and claimed half of the second-ever transgalactic comm link to herself. Janeway wasn’t sure “powerful” was a sufficient word to describe her.

“Hello, Captain Janeway. I’ve wanted to meet you for years.”

“Thank you, Dr. Necheyev,” said Janeway evenly.

Necheyev smiled. “You’ve done your homework. That doesn’t surprise me. My aunt speaks very highly of you, and she doesn’t waste praise on those who aren’t more than worthy.”

Janeway raised her eyebrows. “That’s a high compliment indeed. Thank you for sharing it.”

“You’re welcome. I’d love to speak with you further, but we have little time and there’s someone else I’d like to meet. Is Ms. Lynne Hamilton available?”

Janeway tapped her communicator. “Janeway to Hamilton. Come on in.”

The door opened instantly and Lynne joined her in front of the monitor. “Good morning, Dr. Necheyev,” she said.

“Ms. Hamilton, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m glad I needn’t waste time on explaining who I am, though you did rather ruin my surprise. You can imagine how intrigued the Hamilton Foundation was to learn of your presence on the updated crew roster.” She consulted a PADD. “But the roster doesn’t list your full name. What does the D stand for?”

“Delilah,” said Lynne. “I was named after my grandmother. When I was a little girl I loved that name, but in the sixth grade one of the boys in my class made fun of it, and I decided it was too old-fashioned. From that point on I went by my initial. And you don’t need to be subtle, Dr. Necheyev; I fully expected some sort of test. Surely there’s more. My parents wouldn’t have made it that easy.”

Necheyev gave her a smile that Janeway thought might be real. “They didn’t. Though I’ve already made up my own mind. You haven’t changed much since you left your message on Earth.”

“What message?”

“This one.” Necheyev held up the PADD and played a few seconds of video, enough for Janeway to realize what she had.

Lynne went completely still.

“No, they didn’t destroy it,” said Necheyev. “They wanted it to be available as a means of identifying you.” She nodded to someone off screen. “Ms. Hamilton, I’m sending you a few files and I suggest that you read them carefully. Obviously you already know about the Foundation, and probably about your role in it, but there are a few details that may not be in your ship’s database. I firmly believe that Voyager will be home sooner rather than later, and you should be prepared.”

“Thank you,” said Lynne, her voice sounding thick. “In the meantime, I wanted to speak with you about the policy change. I don’t want to be responsible for that. I’d like you to reverse that decision.”

Necheyev looked at her sympathetically. “Your parents made that decision, and it can’t be reversed until you formally claim your position. You can’t do that until you’re physically here on Earth. So I’m afraid I can’t oblige you.” She looked back at Janeway. “I meant it when I said I’d like to speak with you further. Perhaps someday all three of us can sit down for lunch and what I’m sure would be a riveting conversation. The two of you must have some amazing stories to tell. And congratulations, by the way, on your marriage.”

Janeway wasn’t at all surprised that she knew about that. Anyone who could claim priority over most of the admirals in Starfleet would certainly be able to get her hands on the most recent Starfleet records. Since Lynne now held a formal position on the crew, Janeway had been obligated to report their marriage in the first transmission after their honeymoon.

“Thank you,” she said. “Lynne has brought a great deal of happiness into my life.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lynne turning to smile at her.

“And you’ve brought a great deal into hers,” said Necheyev. She held up the PADD again. “Ms. Hamilton, it’s not too many people who could make a declaration of love that lasts for nearly four hundred years. Tell me, what do you know about modern physics?”

Lynne shook her head slightly, and Janeway knew she was thoroughly unsettled. “Nothing. My field was biology. Physical sciences make my head hurt.”

Necheyev actually laughed. “I strongly suggest you start studying. After all, you’re married to an expert.” She looked off screen. “Our time’s up. It truly has been a pleasure speaking with you both. I hope to meet you in person someday soon.”

“Goodbye, Dr. Necheyev,” said Janeway. Lynne echoed her, and a moment later the Starfleet logo filled the screen.

Lynne stumbled to the conference table and collapsed in the nearest chair. “Oh, my freaking god.”

Janeway knew she’d been thrown, but this was something more. “What’s wrong?”

“They have the PADD, Kathryn! My parents didn’t do what I asked them to do!”

“I’m not sure why that’s bothering you so much. They obviously protected it. PADDs weren’t invented until the 2350s.” She knew she was on the wrong track when an impatient look crossed Lynne’s face.

“How much trouble would I be in if proof existed that I violated the Temporal Prime Directive?”

Janeway sat down next to her. “I forgot about that.”

“How could…never mind. So is it bad?”

“If the Hamilton Foundation is aware of the original source of its corpus, they’re probably invested in keeping it quiet.” Janeway was thinking out loud. “If a Federation court found that original funding to be illegal, the ruling could result in the entire current corpus being forfeit. So it’s in the Foundation’s best interest to keep that little tidbit a deep, dark secret. I think you’re okay.”

Lynne looked at her, the hope painfully obvious. Then she dropped her head in her hands. “What a mess. If I’d had any idea this would happen, I’d never have done it. It seemed so simple at the time. And now I’m supposed to learn twenty-fourth century physics? So I can take over some giant foundation that gives grants for research I can’t even comprehend?”

It was a good time for a mini-lecture on the purpose of the Temporal Prime Directive, but Janeway was learning to separate the captain from the wife. Lynne didn’t need a captain right now.

“Lynne, you did the best you could at the moment. Besides, I think it was supposed to work out this way. You’ve already got the CEO of the Foundation on your side, so you’re ahead of the game as far as claiming your position goes. All things considered, this was a good conversation. And for the record, I have complete faith that you can catch up on current physics.”

Lynne lifted her head, regarded Janeway very seriously for a few seconds, and then smiled. “She’s a pistol, isn’t she?”

Janeway narrowed her eyes. “How can you keep coming up with these things? Isn’t there a finite supply?”

“What? Oh. It’s a term to describe a certain kind of person. Usually a woman, now that I think about it. Someone with a formidable intellect and a forceful personality, who leaves you a little breathless after she talks to you. You’re pretty much the personification of the term. It also used to mean someone incredibly sexy, but I never thought of it that way. Though you’d fit that definition, too.”

“That’s good, because I don’t think I’d like it if you told me you thought Alison Necheyev was incredibly sexy.”

Lynne’s smile grew. “I’ll let that go without the obvious reply. But she is a little intimidating.”

“No, she’s a lot intimidating. You didn’t see what happened before she walked on screen. Here I was, making useless small talk with what looked like every admiral in Starfleet, and then Admiral Necheyev shooed them all out, telling me I had another caller waiting. Alison Necheyev, by herself, has as much or more power than a roomful of admirals. Enough power to take over half of the second transgalactic comm link in the known universe. Enough power to make me tread very carefully.”

“Jesus,” said Lynne. “And if I take over the Foundation…”

“She’ll be working for you.”

Lynne dropped her head in her hands again.

 

 

 

 

---

earth interlude

 

 

Alison Necheyev looked up from her PADD as the chair across from her was pulled out. “Hello, Aunt Alynna. Thank you for meeting me.”

Admiral Necheyev sat down and regarded her niece gravely. “It’s always a pleasure to have lunch with you, Alison. Though I’m fairly sure this lunch has a purpose besides catching up with family.”

Alison smiled. “To the point as usual. There are advantages to small talk, you know.”

“Rarely enough to make it worth my while.”

They got no further as the waiter, no doubt galvanized by Necheyev’s admiral bars, came over to take their order. When he left Alison said, “I see you have them trained here, too.”

“San Francisco waiters are born recognizing Starfleet insignia,” said the Admiral. “Training doesn’t appear to be necessary. You realize that your standing request to Admiral Paris for comm time with Lynne Hamilton exploded your little secret. He’s not a stupid man.”

“I never thought he was,” said Alison, taking the abrupt change of topic in stride. “Though I’m surprised you’re admitting it.”

The Admiral waved that off. “Why did you do it? I thought this was classified.”

“Do what?” said Alison innocently. Her aunt just stared at her, and she stifled a smile. “I’ve revealed nothing, Aunt Alynna. The conversation with Ms. Hamilton took place in private, with only my personal assistant in attendance. If my request for comm time prompted some snooping around, well, that’s not really my problem.”

“You wanted him to snoop around.”

“Of course I did.”

“Which brings me back to my original question. You know I hate circular conversations. Get to the point.”

Verbal jousting with the Admiral just wasn’t very satisfying, thought Alison. “The point is that I felt it wise to take out an insurance policy.”

“Meaning you want Ms. Hamilton’s existence to be made public.”

“Not necessarily public. Just expanded a little. Specifically, into the Starfleet departments that are working on the faster-than-warp projects and the MIDAS lab, both of which are under Admiral Paris.”

The Admiral eyed her speculatively. “You’re worried.”

Alison had made a decision before inviting her aunt to lunch. She needed an ally, and there was no one she’d trust more than her aunt. The Admiral was a rigid Starfleet lifer, and her loyalty to fellow officers was unshakable. For all her gruff attitude, Alynna Necheyev would move heaven and earth to keep her people out of trouble.

“Yes, I am,” she said. “Aunt Alynna, I’d like to speak frankly with you. I don’t feel that I’m violating my promise of confidentiality at this point, since you figured everything out on your own.” She smiled slightly. “And now Starfleet knows, so it would seem that keeping everything a total secret is a bit like closing the bay doors after the shuttles are already out.”

Admiral Necheyev sat back in her chair. “I wondered how long you’d wait.”

“I’d have waited forever if I thought I could control this. But I can’t. We’ve just gotten in the new proposals for this fiscal year and there are some very promising ones. But I’ve never had the time to personally examine findings from every one of our grantees, and that’s not going to change. The board officers have directed me to send all theories and progress reports to Voyager on a quarterly basis at minimum; more if something particularly promising surfaces. That concerns me. Certainly there are some very good engineering minds on Voyager, but they might be tempted by their situation to utilize a good-looking concept without examining it down to the last sub-variable. Which means they’re vulnerable to a mousetrap.”

The Admiral nodded. “Mousetrap” was a Starfleet term, meaning a tiny buried bit of code or other form of sabotage, too small to detect unless one was actively searching for it. And sometimes not even then.

“I agree,” she said. “Janeway is a risk-taker. It’s what makes her an excellent captain, but in this case it might lead her to a disastrous decision.”

“And I don’t have any way of warning her directly, even if I had something concrete to go on. We only have one means of communication with Voyager, and it’s easily monitored by anyone who knows how. That’s why I need help. I’ve already got Admiral Paris curious, but I don’t know if he’ll see as far ahead as you already have. I wondered if you could nudge him in the right direction.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning I need some personnel assigned to going through those reports with a microscanner before they go to Voyager. I’ll do what I can, but I have a Foundation to run and I just don’t have the kind of time it would take. A team of crack engineers and theorists would. Unfortunately, I don’t employ too many of those.”

“You want me to “nudge” Paris into reassigning an entire team?”

Alison gave her aunt an open look of dismay. “You sound doubtful. Are you telling me you don’t have the power?”

The Admiral’s eyes narrowed. “That kind of blatant manipulation may work on others, Alison. It doesn’t work on me.”

“Do I at least get points for effort?”

Admiral Necheyev stared for a moment, then gave a bark of laughter. “Sometimes I look at you and you’re still eight years old, trying to impress me any way you could. Yes, I’ll give you points for effort. And for giving me a good laugh, which I desperately needed after spending a morning engaging in stupefying banter with every over-promoted desk jockey in Starfleet.”

Alison winced in sympathy. “Better you than me. Why do all Admirals gain weight once they get promoted, anyway? Yourself excepted, of course.”

The Admiral snorted. “Because they think they’re past the point of climbing through Jeffries tubes, that’s why.”

Alison smiled, then hit her aunt with the real firepower. “There’s something else you need to know. The first thing Ms. Hamilton said to me, after answering my little test question, was to request that I reverse the Foundation’s policy change. Unfortunately, she has no official power until she claims her legacy, so her request carries no weight right now. But what you have on that ship is a politically naïve woman who married a Starfleet captain—a captain who in no way could be considered naïve. Obviously Captain Janeway influenced that request.” She paused, letting that sink in before she delivered the final bomb.

“Ms. Hamilton will do whatever Captain Janeway asks her to. And Captain Janeway is under your direct supervision. If Voyager returns soon, I would imagine that Starfleet and the Federation would be very pleased at the rapid renewal of funds. But if they don’t return, the current funding situation will be static for one hundred years. It can’t be changed.”

The Admiral looked at her from under lowered brows. “I take it back. You’ve learned a lot about manipulation.”

“I’m just telling you the situation as I see it.”

Her aunt nodded. “And I appreciate your forthrightness. It’s preferable to people snuffling around, afraid to tell me something I might not want to hear. I’ll do what I can. Provided that you keep an open channel with me.”

“I will. Thank you, Aunt Alynna.”

They looked up as their waiter arrived, having apparently set a speed record in getting their drinks and appetizers. Alison had dined at this restaurant numerous times, and though the food was excellent, the service was fashionably slow.

The waiter poured their wines and spent some time bowing and scraping before finally leaving them alone. Alison scooped up the seasoned butter for which the restaurant was justifiably famous and began slathering it on fresh, steaming bread. “I’ll have to take you out to lunch more often,” she said. “This was by far the fastest service I’ve ever gotten.”

“The uniform is good for a few things,” agreed the Admiral.

They chewed in silence for a few minutes, simply appreciating the fine food and the view. Across the bay, the buildings of Starfleet Headquarters shone a brilliant white as they caught the spring sunshine. Alison gazed at them, remembering her conversation with the captain who had recently been featured in so many newsvids. And Lynne Hamilton, who didn’t look or behave anything like a woman who could go out and buy a planet if she wanted to. That woman was an innocent; Alison had determined that in the first few seconds. Bringing her into the Foundation cold would be like throwing a gold latinum bar into a room full of Ferengis.

“Captain Janeway looked good, didn’t she?” Alison asked.

The Admiral nodded. “She’s changed. Of course, I’d expect that after being out there on her own for six years. But I think she’s changed for the better. She used to be a bit like you, trying her damnedest to impress me. Now I get the feeling she wouldn’t give a tribble’s ass whether I was impressed with her or not. And she handled that ridiculous press stunt very smoothly. She’s become quite the politician.”

“You prefer your captains not to care whether or not they impress you?”

“Only the ones I have high hopes for.”

“So you have high hopes for Captain Janeway.”

“I believe that Janeway has an admiralship waiting for her if she gets home in the near future. And if she plays her cards right.”

Alison took a thoughtful bite. “I don’t think she said more than twenty words to me during our conversation,” she said after she’d swallowed. “But watching her body language and her attitude convinced me that she knows how to play her cards.”

They drifted into other topics as they finished their meal and enjoyed their cups of fresh-ground coffee. But for Alison, thoughts of Voyager and the two women she’d just met were always at the forefront of her mind.

“I can’t imagine going six years without this,” she said, lifting her cup. “Replicated coffee just isn’t the same.”

Though it was a non-sequitur, the Admiral understood immediately. “And Janeway’s an addict,” she said. “Though if I know her, she’s figured out some way to grow it on board. I can picture her converting an entire cargo bay to a coffee hydroponics lab.”

“Hopefully she started some time ago, then. It takes four years for the first beans.”

“I suspect,” said the Admiral, “that one of the things Janeway’s learned out there is patience.”

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 14

 

 

For the next few weeks, Voyager was swept up in the excitement of daily contact with home. Those who had drawn low numbers in the comm time lottery were the object of countless offers from those with high numbers, and there was quite a bit of bartering. Janeway herself tracked down the holders of comm time on Lynne’s birthday, one of whom was Crewman Tal Celes. She didn’t think she’d have much of problem with this particular negotiation, since her own number was lower than that of her target.

“Crewman Celes,” she said as she stepped into a secondary lab on deck eight.

Celes leapt to attention. “Captain!”

Despite their having been stranded for over six years, Starfleet protocol and Janeway’s own tendency toward formality among the lower ranks meant that her rank still intimidated some of Voyager’s crew. She’d made an effort in the last year to reduce some of that intimidation factor, but Tal Celes had never been receptive.

“Relax, I’m not here to inspect your work,” she said, deliberately softening her own stance. “I just wondered if I might talk you into a little comm time trade.”

Celes had the expressive face common to Bajorans, and the confusion that flashed across it was plain to see. “Um, Captain, I think you might have been misinformed. My time slot isn’t for another six weeks.”

“And mine is next week. Interested?”

Her brows drew together. “I don’t understand. Why would you give up your time?” Comprehension dawned. “Oh, that’s right. You get two minutes every day. I guess a three-minute slot doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to the rest of us.”

For a moment Janeway was taken aback. “Is that what the crew thinks? Tal, for two minutes each day I get a rapid-fire burst of questions and orders from Starfleet. There’s nothing remotely personal about it. I want to talk to my family as much as any of you, and just like you I have to wait for my allotted time.”

“I’m so sorry, Captain, that was…I mean, I was…”

“Don’t worry about it. But I hope you’ll correct that impression if you hear other crew discussing it.”

“I will, believe me. But I still don’t understand why you’d give up an early slot.”

Janeway leaned toward her and lowered her voice. “Because it’s Lynne’s birthday. I want to surprise her with a call home.”

“Ohhhhh.” Celes’ eyes were round. Then she smiled, the first natural smile Janeway had ever seen on her. It changed her face completely. “That’s so sweet.”

“Does that mean you’ll trade with me?”

“Of course, Captain! Thank you! I’d love to call my folks five weeks earlier.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. And Tal? Will you keep this completely confidential?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. You can count on me.”

“Thank you. Now, let me see what you’ve been working on.”

Celes’ body snapped erect once more. “Uh, okay, I’m—”

Janeway held up her hand and gave her a grin. “I’m just teasing you. This was a personal visit. I really am grateful to you.”

With a final nod she left, barely able to suppress her amusement at the look on Celes’ face. That was bad, Katie. You should be ashamed of yourself.

She wasn’t.

 

 

-----

 

 

The day before Tom’s scheduled comm time, Janeway called him into her ready room for a private conference. He appeared moments later, an easy smile on his face. “Something I can do for you, Captain?”

She leaned back in her chair. “Yes, actually. I hear you’re calling your father tomorrow.”

“That’s right.”

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear that, Tom. He’s very proud of you.”

Tom ducked his head. “We’ve been sending messages back and forth since the first connection. He actually said that to me in one of them. I never thought I’d hear that from him.”

“Well, you’ve worked hard for it.” She pulled a small box out of her desk drawer. “I thought you might want this before you see him face-to-face tomorrow.”

Tom looked at her, surprise and anticipation written all over his face. He recognized the box.

“Well, are you going to open it?” Rarely had Janeway seen Tom at a loss for words.

Slowly, Tom opened the b