Atonement (51 page)

“Maybe,” Torres agreed. “But he would have risked exposing himself long before we discovered the rest of the Seriareen. It only took us a couple of days to realize what he'd done to Nancy. Crazy as I was at the time, he could never have hidden in my body or anyone else's long enough for us to reach the Confederacy. We would have known what Lsia was up to before the
Kinara
ever showed up.”

“B'Elanna,” Kim said, “it was a minor error. Anybody would have chalked it up to a random system anomaly. They happen all the time.”

“When you were having a tough time balancing duty and your personal life, you erred on the side of duty. I didn't.”

“The mistake you made wasn't overlooking the error,” Kim
insisted. “The mistake was not asking for help when you knew you needed it.”

“Could you two keep it down, please?” a soft voice requested.

Both turned in surprise to see Nancy looking groggily back and forth between them.

“Nancy?” Kim said immediately, taking her hand in his.

“Hi, Harry,” she murmured.

VOYAGER

Admiral Kathryn Janeway stood in cargo bay one, where the bodies she had just ordered released to the
Third Calvert
were stored in stasis. The Doctor had chosen to preserve them in the event an autopsy might aid him with Lieutenant Conlon. Her progress had made that unnecessary. Janeway had agreed with Chakotay that General Mattings's gesture of returning the bodies would aid him with diplomatic overtures on behalf of the Confederacy.

She hadn't given much thought to Kashyk's ultimate dispensation until Chakotay had presented her with the general's request. Janeway hadn't had time for personal concerns since
Voyager
had set course through the wastes.

Something undone had brought her to the cargo bay. When she had first seen Kashyk's face on the
Vesta
's viewscreen, she had been too shocked to untangle the complicated emotions that arose. As soon as she'd realized that he was under the influence of an alien consciousness, Janeway had made an internal vow to free him.

That he would probably never have done the same for her didn't matter. They had parted enemies, and any accord between them would likely have been too much to hope for, even had she been able to separate Emem from Kashyk's body.

But the torment he had endured prior to his death, so similar to what she had experienced at the hands of the Borg, troubled her deeply. She knew better than to torture herself with “what-ifs.” Some things were beyond her power to command.

But not to wish . . .

Placing a hand over the transparent aluminum that showed Kashyk's face at rest, she forced herself to bring to mind the man she had known before Emem had taken him. Most of the memories were unpleasant. His condescending manner was grating, as was his delight in finding small ways to irritate her. His ultimate betrayal still stung.

But for the few days they had worked together toward a single goal, she had seen more than the Devore Inspector. She had seen the man. She knew he had been lying to her. On some level, she had always known it. But there had been brief moments, including their parting kiss, when she knew that in another lifetime, when their respective duties had not dictated their choices, they might have been kindred spirits.

She hated knowing this, especially now. Had both of them been free when they met to follow their hearts rather than their orders, might they have been able to find enough in common to make the rest irrelevant? Could differences that ran as deep as theirs ever truly be bridged? She had spent her entire career working to build such bridges. In Kashyk's case, and the Confederacy's, the beliefs that divided them had proven impossible to overcome. That failure of imagination, on both their parts, left them weak and vulnerable to forces like the Borg and the Seriareen.

Like it or not, as sentient beings concurrently inhabiting the same space/time continuum, they were one. Only together could they stand against the forces of nature that always seemed ready to toss them on the rocks. Was it their need to be right that made them retreat to the safety of their beliefs? Or was this how it was meant to be? Was this constant struggle the crucible that led to individual enlightenment, and was that, ultimately, the most one could ask of this existence?

“I wish you . . .” she whispered, but could not find a word that encompassed all she truly wished for Kashyk and for herself. She settled for, “. . . peace.”

MONTECITO, NORTH AMERICA

O
n the
night before Commander Paris, Doctor Sharak, and Seven were scheduled to return to the Delta Quadrant aboard the
Home Free
, Julia Paris outdid herself.

The guest list consisted of her son, his fellow officers, and friends. This included the newly minted
Lieutenant Commander
Wildman, her husband and daughter, who had just returned to Earth, Doctor Riley Frazier and forty-six troubled souls, the Tamarian woman, Ratham, Gretchen and Phoebe Janeway, John Torres, and Tom's sisters, Kathleen and Moira. The Paris family home was the setting for a lavish dinner, live music, and dancing. Axum was the only invited guest who had chosen not to attend.

The house Julia Paris had built was finally filled with the sounds of love and laughter she had always envisioned. She had hoped gatherings such as this would include her husband and grandchildren.

But Julia would take what she could get.

•   •   •   •   •

Commander Tom Paris moved through the night as if in a dream he wished might never end. His sisters were incredibly relieved that, despite the custody hearing, he and Julia had made their peace. Moira apologized privately for her testimony. Given the few facts Julia had shared with her prior to the hearing, she had believed it to be the right choice. All she had learned since then had caused her to reconsider. Kathleen was considerably more reserved and watched both Tom and Julia throughout the night searching for some sign of a crack in their jovial façades. Paris and his mother had already spoken at length several times since their successful joint mission to assault the First Contact Day reception. Julia had found new purpose in her work with Riley's
people. She would continue to act as an unofficial envoy between them and the civilian services established to aid Federation refugees. Julia now intended to expand that work and had already volunteered to assist other displaced families still struggling in the aftermath of the Invasion. Paris shuddered to think of the force of nature he had just unleashed on the Federation Refugee Division. They had no idea what was about to hit them.

He knew it would take time for B'Elanna to come to grips with all that had transpired, but Paris pledged that when the Full Circle Fleet's mission was done, their first priority on returning to Earth would be introducing Julia Paris to her new grandson.

Paris enjoyed a lengthy discussion that night with John Torres. He thanked him again for his appearance at the hearing and shared the happy news of his son's imminent arrival. Torres was deeply moved, but did not make any demands. Paris assured him that he'd pass along John's words to his wife. Ultimately B'Elanna would have to decide how much time and attention she wished to give her father. But it was not lost on Tom that John was his children's only living grandfather, and that was a relationship he did not intend to see squandered.

Doctor Sharak was in rare form, regaling Julia, Seven, Sam, and Gres with the tale of his visit the previous day with President Bacco. Paris joined them midway through the doctor's tale.

“She is truly a great leader,” Sharak observed. “Her apologies could not have been more sincere. For any person who bears her responsibilities, it would be impractical to take the suffering of individuals personally, but she holds them in her heart.”

“She is a leader of great intellect and compassion,” Seven agreed.

“Ambassador Jarral could scarcely believe his good fortune,” Sharak continued. “He feared she would ask for his recall when she learned that he accepted the refugees from Arehaz.”

“
Cthulia. The flames burning,
” Ratham interjected.

“
Liaka of Penthal. The river rising,”
Sharak retorted. “Instead, President Bacco marveled at his courage and refused to accept an apology. She insisted that all of the blame for what Riley's
people have suffered was her responsibility and reminded Jarral that true friends must always demand the best of one another, especially when they fail to live up to their expectations.”

“Her words were more colorful than that,” Ratham insisted.

“Have I misunderstood the meaning of the term ‘horse's ass'?” Sharak asked.

Sam Wildman laughed so hard, she looked ready to burst into tears. “No, I don't think so,” she replied through her mirth.

Wildman sat blissfully beside her husband, whose arm was draped over her shoulder. Paris, Wildman, and Doctor Sharak had met privately with the president as well to accept her thanks on behalf of the Federation. Following that meeting, they had been briefed by Admiral Akaar.

The court-martial of Commander Briggs was still pending but would be a swift affair. Paris knew that even the Federation had deep, dark holes down which those who shared Briggs's moral failings tended to fall. The Commander wasn't going to be spending his days at the New Zealand penal colony to which Tom had once been dispatched. When that court-martial ended, no one was ever going to hear of Briggs again.

Both the head of Starfleet Medical and the Federation Institute of Health were in the process of being replaced. All of the officers who had served with Briggs, including Doctors Frist and Everett, were under investigation. Paris knew that even if they were ultimately cleared of any knowledge of Briggs's actions or complicity, their next posts would be considerably less high-profile than their last. Starfleet officers and presidential appointees were expected to follow orders, but not mindlessly. The cult of personality Briggs had established should have set off numerous red flags. The entire situation clearly troubled Admiral Akaar deeply. Paris didn't doubt that Akaar would diligently follow the investigations of these officers with an eye toward preventing any similar fiascos in the future.

Paris and Sharak would be returning to the fleet with commendations for bravery and initiative in their files. Wildman had received a promotion along with her choice of billets. To Paris's
surprise, she had requested a transfer to Ktaria. Apparently the Wildman family was moving to Gres's homeworld and were thrilled at the prospect. Gres and Naomi's detour to the planet had lasted more than a week, and during that time, Naomi had made an important decision. Paris watched as Seven extricated herself from the group and moved toward Naomi, who was seated beside Gretchen Janeway near the dessert buffet.

To his surprise, Phoebe Janeway moved to take the spot Seven had left next to Paris.

“It's good to see you again, Miss Janeway,” Paris greeted her.

“Phoebe, please, Commander Paris.”

“Tom.”

Phoebe smiled hesitantly. “I wonder if you could do me a favor, Tom?”

“Name it.”

“I grew up idolizing Kathryn, even though I never shared her passions. Before she was lost in the Delta Quadrant, I would have argued with anyone who said they knew her better than I did.”

Paris nodded for her to continue.

“I don't think that's true anymore.”

“It's not unusual. I grew up in the same house with my dad but I don't think I
really
got to know him until after we got back from the Delta Quadrant.”

“Who is she?” Phoebe asked. “What I meant to ask is,
who is she now?
What's it like to serve under her?”

Paris smiled. “It's challenging. It's never dull. But she's not cold and distant like a lot of people in her position. When she sees you struggling, she rolls up her sleeves, get right down in the ditch with you, and starts shoveling.”

“You're fond of her?”

“I owe her my career and my life, several times over, Phoebe.
Fond
doesn't begin to cover it.”

Their conversation continued well into the wee hours of the night. When it ended, Phoebe made one last personal request of Tom Paris.

•   •   •   •   •

“When
Kathryn was your age,” Gretchen Janeway was saying as Seven settled herself beside Naomi, “she lived and breathed tennis.”

“Not parrises squares or velocity?” Naomi asked.

“They weren't played at her school. She went to a traditional secondary school rather than Academy prep. Her father and I always assumed she'd end up at the Academy, but we wanted to make sure she had as much experience outside of Starfleet as possible.”

“Why? If all she wanted was to serve in Starfleet . . .” Naomi began.

Gretchen smiled benevolently. “Children like Kathryn, so focused and so driven, could easily end up with a very narrow view of the universe. I was content to have her follow her passion into the service, but she needed to know about the world she was signing up to protect. There's more to life than Starfleet, even for her most dedicated officers. Not that she understood it at the time. She rebelled in every way she could imagine.”

“Admiral Janeway, a
rebel
?” Naomi asked in disbelief.

“One day, ask her to tell you the story of her most memorable diving experience with Mark Johnson,” Gretchen suggested conspiratorially. “She was about your age at the time.”

“I will,” Naomi said, her eyes widening.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Gretchen said, rising. “I need to find our hostess and see if I can get the recipe for that amazing vegetable pie.”

“See you later, Mrs. Janeway,” Naomi said cheerfully.

“Count on it, Miss Wildman,” Gretchen replied with a wink.