The BLTS Archive The Choice
by J.A. Toner (jamelia116@aol.com)

---

1001 Challenge "Finale" response

Two other stories, P/T responses to this challenge, "The Man of Honor"
and "Free Exchange," are companion pieces, but they do not need to be
read to understand this one; "The Choice" stands alone. All are
actually segments of a much longer story I outlined over a year ago.
Thanks to this challenge, I've had the opportunity to complete some of
it. A little of the experiences of Harry, Seven, the Doctor, and
Neelix upon their return are also planned.

Archiving: OK to ASC Archive, PTCollective, and BLTS. All others,
check with me first.

Author's Note: This is another 1001 Finale Challenge Response. It's
J/C, and it is probably long enough to be cut in two. I don't feel
like it, though. This challenge was "what I would like to see in the
Voyager final episode," and this is what I'd like to see. I make no
apologies. After 6 years of dangling them in front of us, TPTB
shouldn't be surprised if some of us might want this. This story is
also probably a little too upbeat for some readers. If so, go find
some angst to read. There's enough of it out there!

Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom own all things Trek. I borrowed the
characters because it was the only way I could answer this challenge.
I'm not claiming anything else except for wishfully thinking that the
finale might have something like this in it. That would be nice,
because I'm sure not going to be selling Braga and company any scripts
anytime soon.

Thanks: to MaryW and Christina, for urging this P/T writer to try a
real J/C story, and to D'Alaire, for letting me bounce ideas off her
very fertile brain. Not quite long enough to be a
TexJammieMelD'Alairabble, though. About 3,000 words shy. Thanks to
Christina, D'Alaire, Julie, and Tracy for beta-reading.

I found one of Trillseekr's messages to me about a story when cleaning
out my mailbox several days ago. I first corresponded with her years
ago on the AOL Fold board. This one's for Trilly.

---

"Will the defendants please rise?"

From the corner of her eye, Kathryn Janeway could see her chief
engineer and helmsman clasp their hands and lean forward, as if they
wanted to stand up in support of the five in front of the court
martial judges. No, they were her *former* chief engineer and helmsman
now. She had to remember that. Sighing mentally, she narrowed her
focus to the four men and one woman who stood rigidly before her. She
found herself holding her breath. If she felt so nervous for them,
what must they be feeling?

"Noah Lessing, Marla Gilmore, James Morrow, Brian Sofin, and Angelo
Tassoni. You have been charged with Murder in the First Degree for
your parts in taking the lives of members of an alien race and using
them as fuel while serving as members of the crew of the U.S.S.
Equinox. Throughout history, military personnel have used the defense
your counsel presented for you in this case: that you were carrying
out the orders of superior officers.

"History has taken a very dim view of this defense; the Federation
looks upon genocide as an intolerable act. Under ordinary
circumstances, you would answer fully for these crimes.

"However, this court cannot ignore that you were not living under
ordinary circumstances when these events occurred. After the first
death occurred, which appears to have been accidental, it can be
argued that the alien's attacks upon the Equinox crew introduced an
element of self-defense to your actions. The use to which you put the
corpses of your attackers was heinous; but, undeniably, you were
acting under the orders of your superiors. To punish five of the most
junior officers of the Equinox when their superiors are well beyond
the reach of any court's prosecution seems unjust, particularly in
regards to the testimony of your most recent commander, Captain
Kathryn Janeway. By all accounts, you have all performed exemplary
service aboard Voyager, accepting the punishment meted out by Captain
Janeway without complaint. Your sincere expressions of remorse have
also been duly noted; indeed, you will be forced to live with the
knowledge of your actions for the rest of your lives. To require
additional retribution when all the circumstances of this case are
considered could be construed as cruel and unusual punishment.

"This court therefore finds the 'Equinox Five' not guilty of the
charge of murder. At the recommendation of Captain Janeway, you will
be restored to the ranks you had attained at the time of your initial
posting to the Equinox. Whether you are to remain in Starfleet or
leave of your own accord shall be your personal choice. This court
martial is dismissed."

The expectant hush in the courtroom was quickly dispelled as a hundred
people began to clap and speak at once. Kathryn watched her five crew
members--former crew members, she really had to remember that--hug and
shake hands with each other and their defense team, as well as with
others who began to push themselves through the clot of people that
sprang up behind the defendant's bench as soon as Admiral Clendenning
pronounced the word, "dismissed."

Despite the noise and tumult of emotion surrounding her, Kathryn could
not help feeling somewhat isolated. Disconnected. She had grown to
value the individuals who were standing at the front of the courtroom.
She knew them just about as well as she had all the others who had
served on Voyager during its six and a half year journey homeward.
Thanks to "Starfleet Protocol," of course, there were very few she
knew well.

At the beginning of the voyage, she had tried to buck the strictures.
She had shot pool in Sandrine's and attended picnics at Neelix's
resort. By the time the  Equinox crew came on board, however, about
the only public activity she attended with the crew was the holodeck
recreation of an idyllic Irish town of the sort that was a fantasy
even at the time period in which it was set. Even then, she went
mostly her own way. It had seemed to be safer, although it was a lot
lonelier. There had been one captain on board other than Kathryn
Janeway, of course, but she had transformed him into her first officer
at the very beginning of the trip, eliminating him as a person with
whom she could safely socialize.

Now was not the time to ruminate about past decisions that could no
longer be changed. Taking to her feet, Kathryn inched her way towards
the aisle of the hearing room amongst those who were trying to get to
the defendants to express their relief.

One of those attempting to move forward, she noted, was a woman
hampered by the squirming of the toddler in her arms. She was making
little headway in the jostling crowd. With a few, judiciously placed
jabs of the elbow, followed by a sincere sounding, "Oh, I'm so sorry,"
Kathryn was able to get next to the woman to help clear the way for
her. "You're not helping your aunt very much, Aimee," the captain
remarked, with mock sternness, to the toddler in front of her.

Aimee turned her broad face to the captain. Totally unintimidated, the
child gurgled a laugh and reached out to brush her hand on Kathryn's
cheek.

What was a captain to do? Keeping a straight face was no longer an
option. Catching hold of the child's chubby fist, Kathryn gave it a
quick kiss. The woman holding the child turned around, momentarily
startled, and then gave the captain a grin. "Captain Janeway! Isn't it
wonderful!"

"Yes, it is. Where is your son? I thought he'd be running interference
for you."

"He's already up there with Marla! He abandoned us, he was so happy
with the verdict."

"As was I."

"It sounds like we have you to thank for putting in a good word for
them."

"I only told the truth, Mrs. Wilson."

Before they could say any more, they were joined by a tall young man
and Marla Gilmore, who once again was a Starfleet Ensign. The baby
cried out an excited, "Mah!" as Marla reached them.

"Honey! Come to Mommy! Let me hold you!" Tears of joy trembled at the
edge of Marla's lashes, waiting for the slightest excuse to roll down
her cheeks.

The baby promptly flung herself at Marla, who kissed her baby as soon
as she was safely wrapped in her arms. Somewhere along the line the
threatened tears disappeared from Marla's face. Her eyes were still
somewhat moist and red, but a genuine smile lit her face.

Kathryn hung back a bit to observe the family group until Marla
addressed her. "Captain Janeway, thank you so much for putting in a
good word for us. I'm very grateful. All of us are."

"You earned it, Ensign Gilmore. I couldn't have asked for you to have
acted with any more courage than you all did once you became
'assigned' to Voyager. And then to take in our little refugee, here .
. ."

Marla smiled and planted another kiss upon her daughter's broad brow.
"You know that was no hardship, Captain. It's the best decision I ever
made."

"Now that you've got your commission back, what duty will you ask for,
Aunt Marla?" asked the tall youth standing next to Ensign Gilmore's
sister.

"I haven't decided to ask for anything specific . . ." Marla hedged.

"You must have some idea, Ensign," Kathryn asked.

"Well, I know what I *don't* want. I don't want posting to a ship."

"After traveling the length of the Delta Quadrant, that's not exactly
a surprise."

Marla and her family joined Kathryn's laughter, but then Marla
replied, more seriously, "It's not only that. The Doctor assured me
the Borg implants in Aimee's brain shouldn't cause her any trouble,
but I'd still prefer to stay close to a variety of medical
specialists. She's such a special case. Besides, Aimee needs to learn
what life on a planet is like. I want to stay put for a while."

"Most of the time, it's better for your career to have two or three
postings to ships before taking a planetside post."

"Some things are more important than my career. You know what I mean?"

Kathryn sighed, "I do. Best of luck, wherever you end up, Ensign."

"Thank you, Captain." Marla extended the hand which wasn't cradling
her child. Kathryn shook it firmly.

As she turned to say something to Angelo Tassoni, who was next in
line, Kathryn became aware of a voice which she had known very well
for so many years, although she had not heard it in a while. As
Kathryn worked her way down the line, several times she caught the eye
of her former first officer, chatting amiably with Noah Lessing. When
Kathryn finally arrived to give Mr. Lessing her own wishes for a
successful future, she could sense Chakotay's presence as he stood
beside her, just as he had for so many years on Voyager.

"It's good to see you again, Chakotay. You look good in mufti."

"You're looking good yourself, Kathryn. I hear congratulations are in
order."

"Congratulations? For what?" she answered, genuinely puzzled.

"Promotion to admiral. It's a sure thing, I understand."

"Oh, that! Just rumor. You know how that goes . . . especially after
Voyager!" she laughed.

"You know what they say about rumor. Where there's smoke . . ."

She shook her head, smiling playfully, "I'm really not interested in a
promotion now, Chakotay. I just got back to the Alpha Quadrant! One
mission, no matter how long, doesn't make me ready for the Admiralty."

"Going to be like Picard?"

"And be a captain forever? No, I don't think so. But I'm just not . .
."

Chakotay whispered, "He's on his way over here."

Kathryn turned her head. As Chakotay had said, the most senior captain
on the court martial jury was on his way over, smiling warmly in
greeting. Kathryn freshened her smile for her fellow captain, although
having another person join her discussion with Chakotay now was the
last thing she wanted or needed.

"Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay. Or should I say Admiral Janeway
and Captain Chakotay?"

"No, not admiral. I was just saying to the commander that I didn't
feel quite ready for that position yet. But Captain Chakotay--that
does have a nice ring to it."

She glanced his way. His smile as devastating to see as ever, but she
thought she could detect an edge of sorrow in it that anyone less
familiar with the man might well miss.

Picard said, "I would have to agree with Captain Janeway about your
worthiness to become a captain."

"Thank you, sir, but that won't be happening." He hesitated a moment,
fixing his gaze on Kathryn. "The truth is, I've just resigned my
commission."

"I'm sorry to hear that," intoned Picard. Kathryn was unable to
respond at all.

"I've accepted an offer to become part of a civilian scientific
expedition. Head of the anthropology/archaeology team. It was an offer
I couldn't pass up."

"Ah, well, then, I understand, even though I regret losing you to the
private sector. In fact, I envy you. Archeology has always been a
passion of mine . . ."

Kathryn stood quietly between the two men as Picard chatted with
Chakotay for several minutes about their mutual field of interest. She
barely heard what they were saying, too lost in contemplating the
irony. For once, she would have been of the same rank as Chakotay, had
he accepted a promotion and she turned down one of her own. Of course,
the chance of their being stationed anywhere close to one another was
highly unlikely. Their meetings would have been rare, even though
Starfleet protocol would allow them to explore what she had shunted
aside on their long journey home. How clever, really. To follow the
protocols exactly was to deny a personal life to the captain one way
or the other, unless a couple had the good fortune to meet when both
were junior officers.

". . . have a meeting with my new employers this afternoon, but I
wanted to stop by and hear the verdict. Kathryn?"

"Yes, Chakotay?" she answered automatically.

"I have to say good-bye now. I will see you again before I leave for
my new position."

"Of course. We'll have to plan a get-together for the whole crew right
away, or they'll all have scattered to the four winds."

"Or the four quadrants," Chakotay quipped.

Laughter, all around. Why did it sound so hollow? His steps, going up
the aisle and to the doorway, echoed loudly. The courtroom had emptied
while the three had stood there, discussing captaincies and scientific
expeditions, archaeology and anthropology. She turned her full
attention to her fellow captain, whose expression was sympathetic.
"It's always painful to say goodbye to those who have served with you
for a long time, particularly a first officer."

That was an opening she couldn't resist, even in her current, somber
mood. "I understand that's something you haven't had to experience for
a very long time, Jean-Luc."

He laughed. "You're right. Commander Riker has been amazingly
faithful. He'll die as first officer of the Enterprise unless I move
on and cede him the captain's chair."

"Any chance of that happening soon?" she asked out of the side of her
smile.

"Someday, but not that soon." He sobered. "The truth is, a ship's
complement does become one's family, does it not? I'm no more eager to
leave the Enterprise, for that reason, than Will is."

"I understand perfectly."

"I'm sure you do! More than most, I expect. What you did to bring your
crew home--rescuing others along the way--it's one of the most
stirring events in the annals of Starfleet history. I don't know if I
could have done it."

"I didn't do it alone."

"Of course not. You had your family to help you."

"And now they're all leaving the nest."

"And what does Mama do when the babies all fly away? Raise a new
family? Become an admiral?"

Kathryn could not quite stifle a groan. "Not you, too! I thought you,
of all people, might understand. I was never interested in becoming an
admiral."

"I do understand, Kathryn. More than you know. But after your
achievement, there will be more pressure on you to become an admiral
than I experienced. The daughter of a famous, much- loved officer; a
modern-day Odysseus who, unlike the original, managed to bring most of
her crew home after an unimaginably long journey . . . I don't envy
you if you feel you must turn down the promotion, not at all."

"How have you dealt with this, Jean-Luc? I know they've asked you more
than once to step up to the admiralty."

"Indeed they have. Several times. I simply remember why I wanted to be
a Starfleet captain in the first place, and then I evaluate whether or
not I've reached the goals I've set for myself to achieve before
taking that next step. So far, the answer has always been 'no,' so
I've been able to say, 'no,' when they've asked me. What about you?
What does Kathryn Janeway want for herself?"

"Truthfully, I don't know any more. I did, in the beginning. I was
going to be the best damned science officer in the 'Fleet. And when I
became interested in command, I was going to be the best captain I
could be. I was, too, but sometimes . . ." She sighed and confided, "I
had a lot of help being the best captain I could be. I'm not sure I'm
confident I'd be the best admiral in Starfleet, even if I accepted a
promotion."

"I don't think anyone really is asking you to be the *best* admiral."

"I'd have to believe I could be, whether or not I actually was. At
this point, I'm not sure I even believe I could be the best captain
any more. Especially since you're still around."

He laughed again, but as he clasped his hand on Kathryn's shoulder,
the gentleness of compassion was palpable. "Good- byes like this are
always stressful. It might be colouring your judgment just a trifle,
don't you think?"

"It's not that. Some of the decisions I made ended up well more
because we were lucky than I made the right choice, or because
Chakotay's advice and support made the difference. He won't be around
from now on to tell me one of those made up 'legends of my people' to
help me see what I'm missing. I depended upon his guidance, Jean-Luc,
even when I didn't follow his suggestions. If it had only been up to
me, I'm not so sure Odysseus would have come home at all."

"Perhaps it's not too late to make him a better offer than he's gotten
from the Questor Group."

"Becoming an adjutant to a fledgling admiral doesn't sound like a
better offer than leader of a scientific . . . did you say, 'Questor
Group'?"

"That's the foundation that is mounting the expedition, yes. You
didn't hear Commander Chakotay mention that when we were discussing
it?"

"I must have been distracted. Yes, I must have been," she said
bitterly. The Questor Group. More irony. "I was under the impression
they were only a 'philosophical discussion' group."

"That's all they were, for many years. Recently, they've obtained the
backing of a private foundation. They've branched out, funding a very
successful research expedition to the Beta Quadrant two years ago,
among other projects."

"I see. That's what comes from being out of the loop for so long," she
said ruefully.

The two captains took a few steps in silence before Picard offered,
"Kathryn, may I give you a word of advice?"

"Of course."

"Chakotay and I are not the only ones certain you will receive an
offer of promotion. It's a foregone conclusion. But if you feel
uncertain about accepting it for any reason, don't hesitate to decline
the honor. As it is, your name will be mentioned in the same breath as
any of the legendary captains in Starfleet history. Your place in the
pantheon is already secure after all you've accomplished--with the
help of your crew, of course! Don't be afraid to be cautious, or, for
that matter, to strike out in a totally new direction. Whatever you
do, be comfortable in your choice. It is your life to live, not anyone
else's."

"Thank you, Jean-Luc. It's good advice," she said with sincerity.

There really wasn't much more to be said. After slowly moving towards
the exit while exchanging good-byes, Picard walked out of the
courtroom briskly. Kathryn followed more slowly, lost in thought.
There was a lot for her to chew over; Picard was certainly right about
that.

One path of life stretched ahead, as easy to see as the vacant
corridor in front of her. She knew the rumors were true. At one word
from her, she could become an admiral, her reward for surmounting the
seemingly impossible odds to bring Voyager home. While she had never
really lusted after the position of admiral, she had never been averse
to becoming one, either.

That future now seemed a colder one than she had ever imagined.
Admiral Janeway, married to her work. Administrating. Filling in a
niche in the admiralty that needed to be filled, until someday, she
might be lucky enough to end up with an assignment in the scientific
side of the command structure, analyzing data from the Stellar
Cartography departments of all the ships in the fleet. Evaluating
scientific phenomenon was something she might actually enjoy--but how
would she feel about working with the discoveries made by others
instead of doing the discovering and studying herself?

If she did turn down an offer to become an admiral, could she start
over again, building a new crew and a new family? She could probably
recruit Tuvok again, perhaps a few others, too. It wouldn't be the
same, of course. It never could be. Many had already chosen to follow
much different paths in life. Chakotay, Tom and B'Elanna, Samantha
Wildman--all of them had chosen to leave Starfleet for various
reasons. Still, if she asked for another ship posting, at least she
might be able to explore new spatial anomalies herself. She wouldn't
be reduced to receiving data about them weeks, even months later.

That was assuming she was assigned to a scientific mission, which had
been the plan when Voyager had first been given to her. As it turned
out, it had become her mission in a most unexpected and spectacular
way. Who could have dreamed her brief foray into a simple military
rescue should come close to becoming a lifetime's journey of
discovery? Bringing back a drive that rivaled the transwarp conduits
of the Borg in speed should have cemented her value in that sort of
assignment.

Circumstances could change, however. After the stunning losses
incurred during the Dominion War, assuming duties that were more
military, more defensive in nature, might be the greater need. She
might even become a diplomat of sorts, trotted out for publicity
value. That was Picard's role much of the time. And if another war
like the one she had managed to miss thanks to blundering into the
Delta Quadrant should begin, she might have to send many people to
their deaths, whether she was a captain or an admiral. She knew how
devastating that had been for Tom's parents, who had only just begun
to put the pieces of their marriage back together, now that Admiral
Paris had publicly come out in favor of releasing the last of the
imprisoned Maquis.

Dark thoughts began to tug at her, threatening to drag her into
dangerous shoals. Once, Kathryn had known the paralyzing bonds of
depression, chaining her to a bed when she'd watched her father and
Justin perish, helpless to do anything to save either one. She'd been
brushed by it again on the journey home, when the endless night of the
Void had reminded her a little too much of that time in her life. The
prospect of spending two years seeing nothing ahead or behind her had
been too symbolic of her time of grief. Taking action and breaking out
of that prison of darkness had been her lifeline then--not that her
crew and Chakotay didn't have a great deal to do with that, too.

And now this--all this praise showered upon her for bringing everyone
home should be for someone else, not her. After all, so many had died.
She hadn't lost everyone; that should matter to her. But now she was
beginning to feel just as helpless as she had when she'd lost her
father and her fiance. Her ability to shape her own destiny had
slipped out of her hands seemed again out of her own control. There
were choices to be made, but none of them seemed palatable.

She had chosen this life. She had always known the risks. Now, after
spending years in the Delta Quadrant, struggling for survival and to
get as many of her people safely home as possible, the "normal" life
of a command officer didn't seem nearly as appealing as it once did.
How had she wandered so far from this life she had always wanted?

As she reached the steps, ready to leave the dark confines of the
building where the courtroom was located and step out into the bright
sunshine of a rare San Francisco day, she shook her head to free
herself from her grim reverie. //Never satisfied, are you, Kathryn?//
she chided herself. But another side of herself countered, //But maybe
there's more to life than what your past choices permitted. Maybe now
is the time to take stock and change direction. What more could anyone
expect to achieve than survival, in the face of the odds you managed
to beat? How many more times can you expect to do that? Who would pay
with their life next time?//

She squinted in the light. Down the walkway, to her right, Picard was
striding resolutely towards the main Starfleet Headquarters building.
To her left, a small knot of people that she recognized as newsvid
reporters who had been following the trial were gathered. It wasn't
difficult for Kathryn to figure out why they were there. At the first
sight of Voyager's captain, they came dashing towards her, shouting
out requests for her reaction to the verdict. //Better to get this
over with,// she thought, smiling brightly for their recorders. ". . .
a just verdict, under the circumstances, as the judge stated in his
remarks. I'm happy they will finally be able to go on with their
lives, as the rest of Voyager's crew members have been able to do."

Waving off their requests for further comment, Kathryn fled down the
rest of the steps and hurried along the center walkway. In the copse
of trees a hundred meters down the walk she thought she had glimpsed a
dark-haired man with a distinctive tattoo speaking to another man,
clad in civilian clothes.

As she neared the two, she realized she recognized both voices. The
resonant tones of one belonged to her former first officer, as she had
expected. The other voice she had heard only through comm lines for
many years, and only once since her return home, several months ago.
They had spoken of the dog she had left in his care almost seven years
before; Bear would now remain with him for the rest of her life as a
remembrance of what they once had meant to one another.

Kathryn misstepped, not enough to lose her balance, but enough to draw
the attention of both men. The one with his back to her turned and
asked, "Kath?"

"Mark!" she answered, extending her hands to him. "It's good to
finally see you again."

He wanted more than a handshake. Pulling her into an embrace, he
admonished gently, "When you called, you promised to come see us."

"I'm sorry, Mark. I've been tied up with things."

"As always," he laughed.

As he released her, she had to admit her fears at seeing him had been
groundless. She was happy to see him again. He had been her friend,
after all, for many more years than he had been her lover. It was
easier than she had anticipated to slip back into that older role.
Enough time had elapsed for the open wound of his loss to heal over,
though the scar might remain forever. "You could have come to see me,
too! It's not like you didn't know where I was. And how is your wife
doing?"

"She's fine, Kath, and you're right, of course. I'm sorry I couldn't
make it sooner. I should have, I know, but you know how things are.
Busy, busy . . ." His voice died away.

"Well, what have the two of you been talking about? Have I interrupted
that 'business meeting' you were going to this afternoon, Chakotay?"

"As a matter of fact, you did," he replied.

"I'd better leave you to it then. I don't want to disturb you . . ."

"No, Kath, don't go. We were discussing business, but this wasn't the
meeting we're going to have this afternoon. We were discussing you."

"Were you, now?" She arched her brow.

"I think that's *my* cue to be leaving. I'll see you this afternoon,
Mark? And Kathryn, call me later. I'd like to know your reaction to
what Mark has to propose to you."

She brushed Chakotay's arm as he passed by her, trying to ignore how
much it hurt to think that such a simple touch would soon be
impossible to share with him. Starship captains never dwelled on such
matters for long--not if they knew what was good for them. Smiling
enigmatically, she turned to Mark. "Propose to me?" Her expectation of
what that word might mean regarding her former fiance had a much
different meaning at one time than it would now, as it surely would
for him as well.

"I do have a *business* proposition for you, Kath." He nodded to
Chakotay as he retreated from them. Gesturing towards a nearby bench,
Mark cleared his throat as they sat down. At last, Mark was facing her
again. "Chakotay was an excellent officer to you, I gather."

"The best. That's why you're hiring him away from me, aren't you?"

Mark looked stunned for a second, and then laughed. "I was under the
impression he wasn't going to be assigned to your command again."

"Probably true," she answered quietly, hoping these simple words would
not reveal too much of her feelings to Mark. From his penetrating
stare afterwards, however, Kathryn knew that was a vain hope. Mark had
known her for far too long, despite their long separation, to miss the
emotion beneath the phrase.

Mercifully, he chose not to pursue it. "I was asking Chakotay's
opinion about how you might react to our little proposal. Not that
what he said would stop me from asking you anyway."

"Ask away."

"If Starfleet offers you the chance to be an admiral, will you accept
the position?"

"Not you, too, Mark!" she said in exasperation.

"Do I take it that it's not a foregone conclusion? You might be open
to an alternative?"

"Depends upon the alternative."

"Good," he said, grinning. "It will take several months to get
everything all squared away, but here's what the Questor Group has in
mind . . ."

---

"A call was all I expected, Kathryn. You didn't have to wait for me,"
Chakotay said lightly. The familiar voice, so close to her, startled
her out of her deep study.

"What? Oh! Chakotay. I'm not waiting for you, I mean, . . . I didn't
even know you'd come back here . . . I just seem to have lost track .
. ."

"You haven't been sitting her all this time since Mark left, have
you?"

"Caught me."

"Kathryn! And no sign of a coffee cup anywhere!"

She laughed outright then, a warm, rich laugh that felt as good as it
seemed to make him feel, if the flashing of his dimpled grin was any
indication. "Is that an offer? I know where there's a coffee shop,
just down the street. Visited it often, during breaks in the
hearings."

Still grinning, he extended his arm for her to take, pulling her up to
her feet in one smooth motion while tucking her hand inside his elbow.
The two walked in thoughtful silence for a minute before she stated,
"It's quite a project they've got in mind."

"Yes. I'm sure you'd be perfect for it."

"I appreciate your confidence in me. You're the one who knows my
strengths and weaknesses better than anyone."

"You're still perfect for it."

She chuckled a bit, stealing a glance up at his profile. He was still
smiling, but it was not such a broad one now. Resolute might describe
it better, she decided. Still, now was the time to ask him what she
was dying to know. "Chakotay, may I ask you why you decided to leave
Starfleet?"

"Certainly."

After a few more steps passed, without his elaborating on his reply,
she felt like giving him an elbow to the ribs. She'd had some practice
doing that already. Rather than play into his game, however, she asked
softly. "So, why did you leave?"

"I got an offer I couldn't refuse."

"It's a good offer, true. Was there more to it than that?"

His grin faded, his joking manner no longer sustainable. "I saw an
opportunity for a little honest nepotism. I'm planning on hiring as
many Maquis for these positions as I can."

"I can't fault you for that. We had a good crew."

"With any luck, by the time we start out, it won't only be our crew
that's available."

She sighed deeply. "Do you think the ones in prison will be free by
then? It's taking so long . . . "

"The wheels of justice moving a little too slowly for you, Kathryn?"

She looked up, directly into his eyes. "In this case, yes. Much too
slowly. But now that Admiral Paris has gone public in support of full
pardons for all the Maquis, I'm hoping things will move a little
faster."

"With his wife, Tom, B'Elanna *and* her mother all ganging up on him,
I'm amazed he held out for so long!" Chakotay halted. They had reached
the coffee shop.

"Don't forget Tom's sisters. They were on him, too," Kathryn said.
"He's such a proud man, Chakotay. He told me as early as the welcome
home party he regretted much of what was done during the war . . . but
that was clearly a private conversation. The more he reviewed our
crew's records, the more he realized he needed to take a stand for all
of the Maquis. He said they'd done exactly what the Federation had
expected."

"Fighting almost to the last man to save their homes in a hopeless
cause."

"Exactly. That's what he said, too, Chakotay."

Chakotay closed his eyes, then opened them again, still staring far
away down the street, but with no indication he saw anything. Finally,
he said, "Admitting your mistakes isn't easy for a Paris, I guess. All
that Starfleet tradition. It must be a burden to live with sometimes."

"Look how Tom has struggled with it."

"And Kathryn Janeway?" he asked shrewdly.

She flashed him a quick smile. "Sometimes," she agreed, "not that I
like to admit it."

"An honest answer. Leaving Starfleet would be tough for you."

"Yes, it would. But I promised Mark I would think about it, and I
will."

"Over a cup of coffee?"

"I guess I could be persuaded. Neelix isn't in there making it, is
he?" They both peered into the window.

"I don't see him."

"Good," she said, pulling her companion up the steps. "Much as I love
Neelix, I can't say I ever got used to any of his 'special blends.'
And he tried so hard, too!"

---

Bright sunshine spilled into the shuttle as its doors opened to allow
Kathryn and Chakotay the chance to exit. Outside, pandemonium reigned.
Piles of boxed equipment and prefab housing panels made mountains for
a small boy to run around. The tall Bajoran woman following him yelled
in exasperation, "Tommy! I told you NOT - TO - RUN! Don't even THINK
it!"

"Too late, right, sport?" The brown-haired male with twinkling blue
eyes stopped the running by a more efficient method, scooping up the
child into his arms and tickling him mercilessly until his mother
could retrieve him. The family waved hello to Kathryn as she passed
by, nodding her own greeting back to them.

Leaning close to the man who was helping her carry several pieces of
luggage, she whispered, "Not quite as well organized as building a
Starfleet base, Chakotay."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I can remember a couple of times when
things weren't that well organized, even at a Starfleet camp. Add
children and a bunch of ex-Maquis to the mix, and it's about what I'd
expect."

She shrugged as they searched through piles of components until she
found the one bearing the code she was looking for. "Here they are.
Brings back memories . . . "

"Captain? Commander?"

Kathryn turned to see a woman approach them. She thought she
recognized the voice, but the only reason the face was at all familiar
was because, a long time ago, the Doctor had done an excellent job of
guessing what a certain woman might look like under her scars and
facial transplants. "Denara Pel?" Kathryn asked, uncertainly.

"Yes, Captain. Oh, I mean, 'Madame Ambassador," the Vidiian answered.

"Please! That's the last thing I am! My diplomatic skills were tested
in the Delta Quadrant and found to be lacking all too often, I'm
afraid. They've sent a much better diplomat to be our ambassador, I
assure you."

 "Then what should I call you?"

"Just call me Kathryn. I've put the captain behind me, too. I'm the
head of the Questor Group's astrophysics team here in the Delta
Quadrant. Chakotay is leading the anthropology and archeology team."

"She's going to be visiting all those tantalizing nebulas she didn't
get a chance to study when Voyager was out here the first time,"
Chakotay said.

"There are plenty of them out here for you. And you will be studying
the peoples here, Comman . . . I mean, Chakotay?"

His smile broadened, brightening his face. "I will. As many as I can
find. Even the Kazon."

"They've been a bit more subdued lately. Since we finally brought the
Phage under control, they've had to contend with us, as well as with
other races who no longer have to defend themselves against us, any
more. They haven't been able to run around bullying people in this
sector so freely. We have you to thank for that."

"B'Elanna's DNA? Did it turn out to be the key to finding the cure?"

"Yes. Klingon DNA, along with one--only one, but oh, so important a
one--of her human genes. It took us a long time to realize how
necessary that human gene was for a complete cure. Once we did, it all
fell into place. B'Elanna Torres is a heroine to my people. We owe her
our lives. She didn't by any chance come along with your group, did
she?"

Kathryn and Chakotay exchanged telling looks. //No mention of the
Think Tank that claimed to have helped the Vidiians cure the Phage.
How interesting,// Kathryn thought. Rather than bring up that tangent,
which might better be discussed at length at a less stressful time,
however, she answered Denara's question. "Yes, B'Elanna and her
husband are here."

"I'd like to express my appreciation to her personally."

"I'm sure you'll be able to do that. She's going to be very busy
working on setting up the power system for our Embassy and the
settlement here, but I'm sure she'll make time to see you, especially
under the circumstances. We're very grateful to your government for
offering us this planet for our 'embassy,' by the way. It's very
generous."

"This isn't a question of our being generous, Kathryn. Giving the
Federation this planet falls under the heading of 'reparations of
war.' We were literally forced to make war on our neighbors to obtain
the organs for our very survival. Now that we have our health, we must
pay back our victims the best way we can. Usually, that's by sharing
our medical knowledge to help them deal with their own debilitating
illnesses, but when it's appropriate, we help out in other ways, as
well."

"Like controlling the Kazon-Nistrim?" Chakotay asked.

Denara laughed. "Yes, especially that way! But in your case, this was
a better way. In our travels to find a cure for the Phage, the Vidiian
Sodality discovered and claimed many uninhabited planets. Our planners
say it will be centuries before we can fully exploit all of them. It
will take decades just to fully repopulate the planets we had settled
before the Phage devastated us! Giving this one to the Federation for
an outpost makes so much sense. With you as our ally, we hope we will
be able to bring peace to the region."

"That is our hope, as well."

"Your coming could not come at a better time, you know. We've
approached some of the other races in this sector about forming
something like your Federation, for the good of all. Many have been
wary of our true motives--and not without reason, I must admit.
Perhaps, with your assistance, we can make that union a reality."

"That's why our ambassador was chosen. He has experience in forging
bonds even in the most delicate of situations."

"I saw him earlier, I think. Your Ambassador--is he a Vulcan, like
your Lieutenant Tuvok? His ears are very similar . . ."

"Half-Vulcan, half human. The Ambassador's family has been involved in
Federation diplomacy for almost two centuries. He himself is a former
Starfleet officer. There is no one better to help you solve the
difficult challenges that lie ahead."

"I'm happy to hear that. Now, you've all had your inoculations,
haven't you?"

"Yes, we have, Dr. Pel," Chakotay answered, like a student to his
teacher, teasing Denara for her rather pedantic admonition and earning
a jab in the ribs from Kathryn.

Denara took Chakotay's impudence in good humor. "I'm glad to hear it.
I was sure your medical staff would take the proper precautions. Um,
is . . . is Schmullis along with you, by any chance?"

"I believe that's him over there, talking with B'Elanna and Tom, as a
matter of fact." Chakotay pointed to the left, where a very pregnant
woman was wildly gesticulating at a bald-headed man while her husband
stood by, holding his hands up and over her as if he were trying to
contain his wife's volatility. "You wanted to speak with B'Elanna? It
looks like changing the subject might be a good idea. Who knows what
she's upset about now!"

Shading her eyes from the sun's rays with her hands, Denara peered in
the direction which Chakotay was pointing to her and said, in
surprise, "Ah, I see them. But how is it that Schmullis is outside?
Have you found a way for your holodeck technology to work out of
doors?"

"Out of doors, or anywhere. I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you all
about it, as long as you can get B'Elanna to stop yelling at him."

"I'll get right over there to save him, then," she chuckled. Turning
back to Kathryn and Chakotay, she stretched out her hands, one to each
of them, and said, "I don't have the words to say just how good it is
to see you again."

"And it's good to see you, too, Denara--especially seeing you looking
so well." Kathryn's voice had become even huskier than usual.

"The luckiest day in my life--and in the lives of all Vidiians--was
the day that Voyager rescued me from death. Thank you." After giving
another quick squeeze to the hands of her rescuers, she hurried
towards the Doctor.

As she left, Kathryn leaned into Chakotay's side, prompting him to
place his arm around her back. "I made so many mistakes in those early
days, Chakotay. It's a relief to know that some of what we did worked
out even better than we could have anticipated."

"For amateur diplomats without any back-up closer than a seventy years
long journey away, I don't think we did so badly."

She patted his stomach lightly before turning back to the pile of
modular living components. "That and a couple of replicator rations
will get me a cup of coffee. Which I'd like to have under a
roof--before night fall, if possible."

"Are you sure it wouldn't be easier just to move back into our old
lodgings?"

"I don't think we can do that, Chakotay. We gave them away, remember?"

"Not in the mood to share with monkeys?"

She gave him a look that, had it been at full phaser power, would have
toasted him well, but a quirky smile blunted its power. "I'd prefer a
little more privacy, thank you."

"There was that other location we were considering the last time,
closer to the river. We could put in a claim to build there before
anyone else finds out what a nice spot it is."

"Near the path where . . ."

"Yes. Right near there."

"I remember. That was a beautiful spot. Let's do it. We'll need
antigrav units to move the modules over there, and a crew to level the
ground before we can set anything up."

"I'll see if I can get Tom and Miguel to help with the leveling . . .
Is anything the matter, Kathryn?" He reached out to steady her as an
unexpected swell of memory momentarily disoriented her.

She didn't trust herself to speak for a moment. Catching her lower lip
in her teeth, she looked up at the clear sky, then down again into his
face. Carefully, Kathryn touched his full, chiseled lips with the
first two fingers of her right hand, the most intimate touch she had
ever been willing to give him out in the open, when others could see
them together.

"Having second thoughts? You've given up a lot to come here. You're
career, your family, your home . . ."

"No, Chakotay. No second thoughts. I think I've got as many of my
family here now as I could have hoped for . . . more than I would have
been able to keep with me if I'd taken another starship command. All
of our Maquis crew, and the Starfleet crew who were ready to settle
down . . . and we've got 'Fleet ships in orbit now, too, so we can
stay in touch with home. We never dreamed of that when we first came
here. And you know, when it comes to my career, I think I knew what I
wanted better when I was eighteen than I did at twenty-six. I always
wanted to be a scientist. I can do that just as well here than
constantly traveling in a starship. That one trip was a 'doozy,' as
Tom would say."

"Then why these tears?" he asked, grazing her cheek with his hand to
wipe away some of the moisture.

"We've come full circle. We came out here, and now we're back. I could
have always been home, if I'd been willing to stop and listen to you
about staying. So many people died on our way, Chakotay. How many
could have been saved if we had just stayed here then? Hogan, Kaplan,
Ballard, Jetal . . ."

"How many lives did we touch after we left here, Kathryn? If we hadn't
continued our journey homeward, some would have been lost or changed
irrevocably. When we went back to 20th century Earth, Captain Braxton
insisted we return to the Delta Quadrant, not home to Earth. We had to
be here to complete our journey. If we hadn't, we would never have
discovered the drive that will allow us to travel back to Earth if we
need to. I was wrong to say should settle down. We had to come home,
Kathryn, even if only to bring the surviving Maquis back here with us,
to a place where they could start over. What would have happened to
them if we hadn't gone back?"

"You're right, of course. It's just that I see their faces, sometimes,
the ones we lost along the way . . ."

"I know. So do I, some nights."

"I thought as much." She leaned into his embrace, oblivious to who
might be watching. After gathering herself together, she stood erect,
eyes dry but with a bit of a mischievous glint in them, "So, Chakotay,
is that angry warrior you told me about still ready to follow the
woman warrior and support her in whatever she might need?"

"He's not quite so angry now, and he's not following behind her any
more, either. They're partners, going side by side through life. He's
learned he has to, the hard way. When she's the leader, she strikes
out so far ahead and so alone she gets rigid about 'protocols.' He
needs to take her firmly in hand to show her the error of her ways
every now and then."

"I see," she said primly.

"Remind her of what she needs."

"And you know what she needs?"

"Yes, I do," he said confidently.

"Uh, hmm. Well, do you agree then, that what we need now is to get
this shelter built so we can get settled in? We can't start on the
scientific explorations we were sent out here to do until we've got a
home base."

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, with a twinkle in his eye and a Tom Paris
inflection in his voice.

After that, what else could she do? She swatted him on the backside,
just before grabbing him and kissing him on the lips. She no longer
cared who was watching.

---

The End, Which Was Also a Beginning