Be Careful What You Wish For

by Barbara Watson

  He also knew things couldn't stay this way forever. When Voyager got back to Earth, even if he and B'Elanna were able to stay in Starfleet, the chances of the three of them serving together were slim. Harry had been very clear about his ambitions, and moving up in the ranks meant taking dangerous, high-profile assignments, never staying too long on one ship, and being ready to impress the right people. Even if Tom weren't starting a family, he had no interest in the politics of that kind of life. In fact, he'd been rebelling against it since his childhood. And, while he knew he and Harry would always be friends, their days as constant companions were coming to an end.

  As he watched his pregnant wife and his best friend laughing and dancing, Tom forced himself to take a mental picture of the scene in front of him. He wanted to remember this night for the rest of his life.

  Kathryn took another moment to enjoy the view. Not of the San Francisco Bay, but of her crew, happy, laughing, and home. Chakotay was dancing with B'Elanna now, and it seemed to be Neelix's turn to twirl Naomi. Janeway especially enjoyed watching Icheb, awkwardly dancing with Samantha Wildman. Particle physics was a breeze for the young man; a simple slow dance seemed to elude him. Harry and Tom, perhaps inspired by the view, were swapping Academy stories, and the Doctor was regaling everyone within earshot of his experiences during two previous trips to the Alpha Quadrant. Their captain just stood there for a moment, soaking it in.

  Out of necessity, the party would be over soon. She wanted everyone well-rested for the most important mission of their lives. But she couldn't bring herself to end it. Still, she needed to make her announcement before anyone drifted away. She moved to the top of the landing, champagne glass and spoon in her hand. "Computer, end music." The song was replaced by the distinctive ping of metal tapping glass, and the conversations around her slowly stopped.

  "What's with the speech?" B'Elanna leaned over to ask Chakotay.

  "I have no idea," he answered honestly.

  Kathryn took a deep breath before beginning. "I want to thank everyone for coming, tonight. I hope Admiral Stewart doesn't mind us borrowing his home for our celebration." She smiled as her crew chuckled. "I want to thank Commander Chakotay for co-hosting this little party with me, and Lieutenant Paris for deciding that my taste in music could use some work." This drew some unsolicited applause, and Tom faked a little bow. "And my apologies to Mr. Neelix for not letting him cater this event." Thankfully, no one was cruel enough to applaud at that, though there were a few chuckles, including from Neelix. The captain's expression turned more serious.

  "I wanted you all to know that your letters were successfully transmitted in the datastream this afternoon. With any luck, the next communication you have with your loved ones will be face-to-face." She couldn't help but notice the wistful looks surrounding her. "Now, the nature of our individual communication with the Alpha Quadrant has always been private, but I wanted to share with you the contents of the letters I sent and received today."

  "Many months ago, when we first came into regular contact with Starfleet, I submitted my complete logs, along with all of the data we collected over the last seven years. I also submitted several petitions to the Federation Council and to Starfleet Command. Included in those petitions was a request that all charges against the former-Maquis crewmembers be formally dropped. Another asked that the provisional and field commissions issued during our journey be permanently instated. I received a response to those requests this afternoon."

  The buzz of a hundred separate whispers filled the room. She clinked her glass a second time to bring everyone back to attention. "I was informed today that a hearing on my petitions has been granted, and scheduled for exactly three weeks from today. While the Advocate General's office couldn't guarantee the outcome of the hearing, they indicated their belief that the Council would be favorably inclined to grant immunity to all of the former-Maquis."

  There was spontaneous applause from the floor below her. Tom was on his feet in seconds, and was holding his wife in his arms a moment later, one of several long embraces she could see around the room. The captain let this release go on for a moment before she brought them back to order.

  "Now, Starfleet has postponed any decision on making the provisional commissions permanent until the Council has finished its deliberations. But I made a rather impassioned plea today to have this issue resolved as quickly as possible. I want you all to know that I will make it my personal mission to keep fighting until each of you who wants to stay in Starfleet is given the opportunity. You're a remarkable crew, and, while I know most of you have dreamed of the day you could leave this ship for the last time, I hope that--after an extended and well-deserved personal leave--many of you will consider returning to Voyager. You've proven you're the finest crew in the Delta Quadrant. I'd love to see what adventures we could have together--a little closer to home." She raised her glass into the air. "Cheers!" Janeway saluted her crew, her voice cracking with emotion. Her crew returned the toast.

  "Tom, where's that music?!" she shouted across the room.

  "Computer, resume musical selection Paris Big Band Beta 3," he called out. The tune was lively to fit the collective mood.

  She didn't need to search for him in the crowd. By the time she reached the bottom step, Chakotay was waiting for her, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?" he wondered.

  "And spoil the surprise?" she asked. Their 'deal' precluded any public displays of affection until they reached the Alpha Quadrant and he had officially resigned his post, but there was no way this could wait. He grabbed her tightly, practically lifting her off the floor. She returned the embrace, in full view of their crew. No one even seemed to notice.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  It was 0758 and the briefing room was still empty. Somehow, despite their excitement about the prospect of starting their final day in the Delta Quadrant, Voyager's crewmen were also mindful of the gravity of what they were going to attempt. Almost without exception, they had lingered a bit longer during their morning routines. And most chose to take their breakfast in the mess hall, seeming to need to be around their friends one last time before they began. Duty was calling, however, and it was almost time to start.

  Tuvok and Seven arrived at 0800 precisely, and Chakotay was only moments behind them. Harry, B'Elanna and Tom arrived together, having shared a turbolift up from the mess hall. Surprisingly, their captain was the last to arrive. "Good morning," she said more softly than she had intended. She wanted to project total confidence today. "What's our status?"

  Her first officer began, "All stations reporting ready for duty. All hands are at their posts."

  Tuvok was next, "The ship is secured. We are in lockdown mode Alpha One." He didn't say it, but his final comments acknowledged their anticipation of a bumpy ride. Lockdown required all non-essential equipment to be safely stowed, all shuttles (or what was left of them) to be moored to the bay floors, and all cargo bays to be evacuated. They would take as few risks as possible with accidental injuries.

  Harry interjected, "The spacial charge is armed and standing by."

  It was B'Elanna's turn. "All diagnostics have been completed. All three engineering duty shifts are standing by."

  Then Seven, "Deflector control has been rerouted to Main Engineering. The telemetry link with the probe has been verified." They all knew that their trip would be over in seconds if the deflectors and the probe lost synchronization. Oddly, it was comforting to know that Borg precision would be at their disposal for this most critical part of their plan.

  Tom was the only one left. "Helm diagnostics are complete, and we have verified the link with deflector control. We're all set." He tried to sound casual, yet he knew he and Seven would be doing a precisely choreographed tango from eleven decks apart, as she steered the deflector wedge and he followed her lead through the singularity.

  Actually, it was more like a ballet: Harry would launch the explosive charge and Tuvok would detonate it. At that exact moment, B'Elanna would initiate a ta
chyon burst forcing the explosion's energy to rip open the fabric of space, which Seven would wedge open into a pseudo-transwarp conduit using the deflector array. Tuvok would bring the enhanced shielding online at the precise moment Tom reached the opening of the singularity. From that time on, they would be looking at six hours of split-second calculations. Once they were inside, they would move from careful choreography to improvisation: no one could predict the steps they might need to complete this dance successfully.

  There was no reason not to begin. "Then, take your posts," Janeway said confidently. "And good luck." Her officers stood and headed for the doors. Janeway tapped Tom on the shoulder as she passed him. "You've got one minute." He nodded, gratefully, and indicated for B'Elanna to wait.

  She would be working from Main Engineering along with Seven, eleven decks away from the rest of the bridge crew. Neither she nor Tom wanted to think that they might be sharing their final moments together, but it was compassionate of the captain to allow them this private time, however brief. "We have a date tonight," Tom said softly. "I expect you to keep it."

  B'Elanna smiled sadly. "We'll be there," she said, placing his hand softly on her belly. "No pizza, okay?" she teased gently.

  "I promise," he answered in a tone that said he was promising more than just a different entrée. They kissed softly, then she headed for the door into the aft corridor. Tom waited to hear it close before moving onto the bridge and to his station.

  Seven was waiting for her in the corridor. B'Elanna wasn't sure why her colleague had lingered or why she was suddenly glad to have the company on the trip to their stations. They walked together to the turbolift. "Engineering," B'Elanna said, then after a moment, "Thank you for waiting."

  They avoided looking into each other's eyes. "I thought you might...I desired companionship," Seven finally admitted.

  "I'm glad you did," the engineer returned. They shared another quiet moment before Seven continued.

  "I am finding myself...unsettled at the prospect of achieving our goal," she admitted in a display of vulnerability and honesty Torres would never have anticipated considering the often-icy nature of their relationship. But she knew that everyone else had someone to share the nervousness with. Seven's self-imposed isolation had probably kept her from sharing her fears.

  B'Elanna found herself glad that Seven had confided in her. "Unsettled that we won't be successful? Or that we will?" There was only sincerity in her voice.

  Seven considered the question for a moment. "Both," she said, with the slightest hint of a smile.

  B'Elanna smiled sadly. "Me too," she admitted. "You know, I told you once that, if we did get back to Earth, we could be outcasts together. The offer still stands."

  Seven, remembering the conversation, was now equally skilled at using humor to deflect a tense situation. "Shall we form a collective?" she asked in mock-seriousness.

  B'Elanna pretended to consider it. "We could, with all the misfits on this ship." The engineer turned serious after a moment. "You have friends here, Seven. You won't be alone." They looked at each other briefly as the doors opened on Deck 11. "Let's get to work," B'Elanna said, leading the way.

  Once the call came from Engineering letting them know B'Elanna and Seven were in place, Janeway opened the comlink throughout the ship. "I know some of you may have doubted that this day would ever come, but we are about to bid a fond farewell to the Delta Quadrant, our home for almost seven years. With a little luck, we will be spending this evening safely in Federation space. Before we go, I wanted each of you to know that I have been proud to see you through this adventure. And, despite everything we have faced, I will never be sorry for the time we have shared together on this ship. You are an exemplary crew, and you have served with great distinction. I cherish you all." She took a deep breath, determined to keep her composure. "All hands go to alert condition blue. Let's go home."

  ~*~*~*~*~

  PART 5--SACRIFICE:

  As had been true in their simulations, opening the conduit was the easy part. The kind of coordination it required was second nature to this crew by now, and was aided in great measure by all of their practice. Riding the expanding wave of fractured space, however, was as difficult as they knew it would be.

  They were two hours into the mission when Tom noticed the first signs of gravimetric shear. It started off as minor fluctuations in the deflector wedge, then became stronger--almost like piloting a small airplane in the wake of a large jet. Fortunately, Tom had flown ancient aircraft simulations as a teenager, and he used some of those old skills to help him navigate the turbulence. Still, if the shear increased, there was only so much good piloting could do.

  "Captain, the wake is increasing. Attempting to compensate..."

  She turned to Harry, as she had every time the simulation threw this particular problem their way. "Can you figure out what's causing it?"

  The one advantage the ensign now had was concrete data based on their first two hours of experience. He was seeing a pattern. "Looks like we encounter the shear every time the conduit passes near a densely-packed region of normal space. I suppose the intense gravity fluctuations could be affecting the shape of the singularity."

  "B'Elanna, Seven," the captain called over the open comlink, "do you agree?"

  They were focused on the tasks at hand and unable to review Harry's data. "Sounds possible," B'Elanna offered.

  "If that is the case," Seven interjected without taking her eyes off her console, "it may be possible to use the astrometric sensors to project the variances. We could use the data to remodulate the deflector as the gravimetric forces fluctuate."

  Normally, this would be a task best suited to Seven's skills, but she had her hands full literally and figuratively in steering the deflector wedge. "Commander," Janeway motioned to Chakotay, "take over at Operations. Harry, get down to Astrometrics. See what you can do."

  The first officer took the Ops station before nodding Kim away. Their plan had always called for Chakotay to act as what Tom called a "utility infielder," an obscure baseball reference that aptly described someone trained for a variety of tasks. Frankly, he was happy for the assignment. In tense maneuvers like these, he preferred to participate. It made the time pass faster, and helped relieve the feeling of being a mere observer in the most important trip of their lives.

  Harry, on the other hand, wasn't as thrilled. He knew he was the best person for this job, but he hated leaving the action on the bridge. He also left the comfort of maneuvers rehearsed and rehearsed again. Unlike Tom or even B'Elanna, Harry didn't like flying by the seat of his pants. He always believed that nothing beat preparation, and he had a lingering fear that he wouldn't be able to come up with the right inspiration in an unrehearsed situation. No use worrying about that now, he thought. The turbolift opened on Deck 8, and the ensign ran down the corridor to his new station.

  Kim was only slightly surprised to find Icheb there when he arrived. He was also slightly relieved. The cadet had an instinctual understanding of stellar geometry that rivaled only Seven's. Harry also saw a lot of himself in Icheb: raw talent mixed with a kind of inbred self-assurance and absolute naivety. Plus, Icheb made Harry feel less like the low man on the totem pole. He may once have been as raw as Seven's star pupil, but that was a long time ago. It made him feel good to see the view from the other side.

  "Do you know the assignment?" Harry asked as he took the station opposite the cadet.

  "We're scanning for gravimetric distortions and plotting the variance." Harry smiled. "Good. Let's get started."

  ~*~*~*~*~

  One successful improvisation and counting.

  They were now in hour four, and struggling to fight off complacency. Harry's plan to map the turbulence was working, and--with that problem under control--they were almost surprised at how well it was going. So far they had traveled almost 20,000 light years.

  Without Chakotay available to relieve him, Tom's neck and arms were getting stiff. He had no choice bu
t to continue, trying to focus only on the instantaneous calculations and subsequent course corrections necessary to stay behind the narrow wedge. He didn't say anything about the pain. What good would it do?

  They heard the turbolift doors open. Tom heard the familiar voice, though he couldn't deflect his attention to look up. "Doctor?" the captain was asking, the 'what are you doing here?' was implied.

  "I have been monitoring our progress from sickbay," he volunteered, only slightly concerned to be caught eavesdropping again. "I know there was a change in plans. I thought maybe I could help." He indicated his medkit, and Janeway was relieved. She had feared for a moment that he was offering to take the helm.

  "Thank you, Doctor," she nodded. "Start with Mr. Paris."

  The doctor ran a quick scan of the pilot, then pulled out a hypospray. "I'm giving you something for the muscle constriction in your neck. I'm also increasing the oxygenation of your blood. It should help with the fatigue."