Thinking about Wang and Hower couldn’t help but make Tom miss the overachiever who had helped Captain Janeway ‘reclaim’ him. He switched off his computer console and reached for the large display PADD he kept on the shelf under his desk. He leaned back in his chair and flicked it on. The smiling face of Harry Kim appeared before him.
“Tom, if you’re seeing this then we’ve made it home safe and sound, and I have only four words for you, ‘I told you so!’
Now, I know we might not be seeing much of each other once we’re back—somehow I doubt B’Elanna’s gonna let you go on the kinds of adventure I’ll be looking for. But I want you to know that, no matter where we both end up, you’ll always be my best friend. And, even if we’re posted on different ships, I’ll be thinking of you, and the great times we had on Voyager.
I know you’ve made fun of my ‘playing captain’ on the gamma shift. And I know you’ve said you’re not interested in command. But I think you ought to at least consider it. You might make a half-decent captain one day. I might even let you practice by being my first officer. Until then, take care of yourself.”
Tom absentmindedly fingered the new pip on his collar. When he realized what he was doing, he shut off the PADD, put it back on its shelf and smiled. The letter that used to make him sad was starting to remind him of some very happy days. Harry was now on the biggest adventure of his life. Tom hoped he was having a great time.
~*~*~*~*~
Before they left on their new assignment, Voyager’s DQ’s had to say some painful goodbyes. Among the most difficult to let go were their youngest crewmembers. Naomi Wildman was now in the process of getting to know her father, and Icheb would be starting his second semester at Starfleet Academy in just a few weeks. The Wildman family had become Icheb’s legal guardians—Seven had only grudgingly admitted that she’d be too far away to take on that responsibility herself—and Naomi was having no end of fun bragging about her new ‘Borg big brother.’
Everyone knew leaving Naomi behind would be difficult for everyone, particularly for Neelix. The ‘ambassador’ from Talax had been among the first recruits to Chakotay’s diplomatic team, with the very specific task of coordinating the Federation’s aid programs for Cardassian children. And—while he was happy to be given a challenging and official position—Neelix knew he would miss the little goddaughter he had come to view as a surrogate child.
In her own imaginative attempt to comfort her friend, Naomi had recorded over three hundred short messages for Neelix; he was to play one each day for the next year. By then, she told him, she’d be a lot bigger, and he’d have to come see her in person to get the next batch. He promised her he’d keep their date.
The captain would also be saying a difficult goodbye. On one of Kathryn’s last nights on Earth, she asked to spend the evening alone with Phoebe at her art studio, just enjoying each other’s company and talking the private language of sisters. They talked about the legendary battles of their youth, of the way their differences—one an artist, the other a scientist—had kept them apart as young women. And they talked about the loves that had brought their lives both pain and meaning.
With Phoebe, Kathryn could admit her deepest fears and weakness. She could talk of her lonely nights on Voyager, first missing the man she’d left behind, then mourning the man she saw every day but couldn’t have.
Kathryn also talked about her darkest days in the Delta Quadrant. Days when she refused to leave her quarters, her guilt at the fate of her crew overwhelming her. She’d missed Phoebe the most in those times. Until then, only her sister’s gentle prodding and total understanding had been able to drive away her demons. Even Chakotay had barely succeeded in drawing her out of herself.
As the evening drew to a close, the two made a pact: every week, no matter what was going on in their lives, they would take time to write or call the other. They’d never let time or distance get between them again.
Phoebe ended the night by giving her sister a gift she had made, a painting of two young girls sitting on a beach, their backs leaning gently against each other. One had her hands in the sand; the other, her face to the sky. One a dreamer, one a doer. Yet which was which? For in their own lives, the dreamer had turned earth into art. And the doer had looked with wonder into space. They were different and the same, and part of each other. And would be for the rest of their lives.
Much of B’Elanna’s last night on Earth was spent at the computer console in her father-in-law’s study. Babies grow so fast, and Kathryn knew that MK would likely be a much different child when her grandparents got to see her again, so she’d offered the couple one more evening in the Paris home—in the process giving Tom one more chance to enjoy his reconciliation with his family before they got underway.
The captain didn’t realize that it would actually be B’Elanna’s night for making peace with her parents.
The engineer had excused herself after dinner and went to the console on the Admiral’s desk. B’Elanna needed to write a letter to her own father to close the largest wound in her life once and for all. She’d had several months to think about what John Torres had told her. Several months to consider her tumultuous childhood, to search for any clue that her mother might actually have sent the man out of their lives. She remembered his spoiling her when she was small, his distance and rejection as she grew older, and his absolute absence in the rest of her life.
She’d also had several months to watch her husband, not without his own demons, dote on their daughter as if her life were his own. Tom didn’t spoil Miral. He didn’t attribute wonders to her greater than her real abilities. He just loved her and was there for her. Watching Tom with MK led her to two inexorable conclusions: that no honorable man would walk so totally away from a child he loved, and that she had been crazy to ever even remotely compare her husband to her father.
She knew now that she neither wanted nor needed a relationship with John Torres. Yet, ironically, in realizing this, she was finally able to forgive him and let go of her anger. She didn’t think she’d be seeing her father again, not in her life, nor in Sto’Vo’Kor, so she took this opportunity to wish him a peaceful and happy life. And she asked him not to contact her again. It was a message she started and erased several times over the course of the night. Finally, she felt comfortable with the words she had chosen and hit ‘transmit.’
After she’d sent the message, B’Elanna heard Owen Paris come into the room, no doubt faking some excuse—a misplaced datapad, an urgent desire to read some novel for the fifth time—to see if she was alright. “I’m sorry, Lanna. I was just trying to find my blue sweater.”
She stood up from the desk and walked toward him. “Did you call me ‘Lanna’?” she asked.
Suddenly the very powerful Starfleet admiral looked a little afraid. “I guess I did. Is that alright?”
She smiled, enjoying hearing her mother’s pet name for her spoken by this man. “It’s nice. Dad.” She hugged him, not a meaningless gesture for someone so private. Owen just looked at her for a moment, then realized with some amazement that he’d not only reclaimed his son, he had found another daughter.
~*~*~*~*
It felt strange for him to be sitting in one of the ‘big chairs.’ Even stranger to look down at the conn and see someone else about to pilot them out of spacedock. Tom had taken command of Voyager on many occasions during their years in the Delta Quadrant, but a temporary duty shift always meant sitting in the captain’s chair. Now he would be to Janeway’s left on a permanent basis, and he knew it would take a lot of getting used to.
As was customary when heading out on a new mission, the senior officers were all at their bridge stations: B’Elanna manning the engineering console, Seven at the science station, and three slightly nervous new faces—Lang, Vorik, and Lessing—at Tactical, Ops, and the Conn respectively. Ambassador Chakotay stood at the railing next to B’Elanna, the Doctor—not needing his mobile emitter—was on the jump seat next to Tom. Neelix was the l
ast to join them, winking at Lieutenant Lang as he stepped off the turbolift and leaned on the tactical console.
There was no more reason to wait. Kathryn turned to her first officer. “Mr. Paris.” Tom knew this was his cue.
“Lieutenant,” he said giving the orders now instead of executing them, “clear all moorings, lay in a course, and clear our departure with operations.” Noah’s fingers moved with confidence as he did as he was told. “Ops has cleared us, sir,” he acknowledged. Tom turned to Vorik, “Ready thrusters.” The Vulcan nodded. “Thrusters ready.”
Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris turned to his right and took the liberty of smiling at his superior officer as he said, “Looks like we’re all set, Captain.”
Kathryn couldn’t help but enjoy herself as she gave her first official command of Voyager’s new mission. “Engage,” she said, and took a deep breath. And they were off.
~*~*~*~*~
EPILOGUE:
Kathryn Janeway was just about to doze off after another exhausting day. The last month had been more complicated than she had hoped, as her crew had one difficult negotiation after another with their former enemies. She knew Chakotay was bearing the brunt of everyone’s frustration, yet he seemed to handle himself with a grace and good humor she thought would be difficult for another man under these circumstances.
The intelligence information they had received might make it all worthwhile. Their diplomatic task now almost complete, Voyager was about to head off in search of some prodigal sons and daughters of the Federation, including Thomas Riker, an old friend—sort of. They’d gone to the Academy together when he was still the one and only William Thomas Riker. The transporter accident that had duplicated Wil—creating the Tom Riker she now searched for—had happened long after they’d graduated. Tom would know her, whether or not he’d trust her. She only hoped this rescue mission would have a happy ending for them all.
She couldn’t help but think of the last time she’d steered Voyager in the direction of the Badlands looking for Maquis. It was just over seven years earlier. That three week trip had turned into a seven year fight for survival, and had changed her life—and over a hundred and fifty others—forever. Somehow she hoped this mission would be just as interesting, but significantly shorter and less dangerous.
Her thoughts of those years led her to remember all the friends she’d had to leave behind. Keeping a promise to herself, when those memories came, she forced herself to call up the best of those times: surprising Tuvok with a birthday cake, watching Harry grow from a scared and timid boy into an experienced and confident officer.
Kathryn was tired, but happy. There were ways in which her life had come together now that she might only have dreamed of just a few short months ago. She was home, sharing her life openly with the man she loved, and leading her crew on a mission of exploration and adventure. It was both fulfilling and exhausting. So much so that, sitting here trying to squeeze in just one more hour of work, she could hardly keep her eyes open.
She forced herself off the couch and walked her coffee cup to the recycler. Already dressed for bed, she shooed Moira, her holographic puppy off the bed, and slipped under the covers next to Chakotay. The expression on his face revealed a restful, rejuvenating slumber. She drifted off while watching him sleep.
That night, she had her favorite recurring dream:
She had been following the small lizard for several minutes when they came to a clearing in the forest, a beautiful, quiet spot where the nearby stream pooled before continuing on its way. Soon they were joined by a huge, green and yellow snake. She watched as it welcomed the lizard onto its back like a trusted friend. She heard the creatures speak to her with their thoughts.
“You have been on a quest,” they spoke in tandem. “You have searched for many years, desperate to find what you seek.” She couldn’t deny it. “Yes,” she answered. “And have you found what you searched for?” they asked her.
“Yes,” she replied, as she smiled.
“And what was it you sought?” they inquired. It was the easiest question for her to answer.
“Peace.”
THE END
~*~*~*~*~
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
Someone to Watch Over Me, music and lyrics by George Gershwin
A text-only version of this story is available by email to [email protected].
I have selectively used some names and details from Jeri Taylor's two Voyager books, Pathways and Mosaic. While I enjoyed both books, they're not canon, so I chose to use or ignore her history for the characters as I saw fit. I also chose to depreciate much of the plot of "Human Error," since I felt it hit the reset button on Seven in a counterproductive way.
For those that asked, a sequel is probably inevitable, but not any time soon. I can be bribed with compliments and ideas for how you might like to see Voyager's new adventure in the Badlands play out. Requests to complete missing scenes for this story will also be taken under consideration. (Any passages highlighted in purple are scenes added after the story's original publication at the request of certain readers. Heck, if you were willing to wade through this massive story, the least I can do is respond to your wishes.)
PLEASE feel free to point out misspellings and omitted words. It's the internet; I can fix it easily and for free.
Barbara
Be Careful What You Wish For Page 41