Chapter Two
Ro had forgotten how cramped the Gale's cockpit was. Even with only one person aboard the ship was far, far too small. Her back was starting to complain mightily – it had, after all, been a long time since she'd been behind the helm of a ship.
On the bright side, she'd seen no ships. No Federation starships, cruising the borders of the Badlands looking for the Maquis, or Jem'Hadar warships on a seek-and-destroy mission, and certainly never both at once shooting at each other. This struck Ro as a good thing – while there hadn't been open fighting between the Federation and Dominion yet during her cell's hasty retreat into the Badlands, she knew it had only been a matter of time. The fact that there didn't seem to be giant clashes between massive armadas told her that the fighting was over.
Of course, it doesn't tell me who won, Ro thought morbidly. For all I know, the Federation is gone, Bajor is reoccupied, and the Alpha Quadrant has become yet another string puppet for the Founders.
Ro's destination was the one she was sure would tell her very quickly the events of the last five years – Bajor, the wormhole, and Deep Space Nine. The Gale was under cloak, just in case things had gone poorly, but she would have to drop it to dock – assuming that there wasn't a warrant still issued for her arrest even if everything had gone well.
She grew more optimistic as the ship cruised into the Bajoran star system and there were still no Dominion or Cardassian ships in sight. Taking a risk, she dropped the ship's cloaking device and pointed the Gale towards Bajor. She had been to her home planet during the Maquis resistance, recruiting and planning attacks against Cardassian targets, but she hadn't had the chance to truly see her world from orbit since the last visit by the Enterprise.
Now she had a chance and she intended to take it. Inverting the Gale so that the cockpit faced downwards towards her world, she watched in fascination as Bajor grew before her eyes. The seas were a different shade than those on Earth – a less focused blue with a tinge of green. And the land was splotched with huge clumps of barren brown from where the planet had been strip-mined by the Cardassians during the Occupation. But it was home, and Ro was glad to see it again.
Refocusing her efforts, she tapped into the planetary computer system. Searching through the database, she worked to find any information about the last five years. The war is over – the Federation won. It's been over for more than three years. Ro sighed with relief – she had been terrified that she would find the universe a much worse place than it had been before her voluntary exile into the Badlands.
Now, this is interesting. Bajor joined the Federation? I'll be damned. Ro was more than a little bemused by the idea. She remembered her first mission after she'd been rescued from the stockade by Admiral Kennelly, a mission where the Cardassians had set the Admiral up in order to use the Federation to capture the Bajora resistance cell. Bajor had been scared but defiant and Ro still had trouble believing that the Cardassians had left their world at all, much less that Bajor had joined the Federation. Yet, she also remembered how determined Captain Picard had been to see the Bajorans someday recover their ancient birthright. Still, I'd like to meet the people who made it possible. It's no small feat.
Ro lined the ship up on a course for Deep Space Nine. There was only so much she could learn from the Bajoran computer database – she needed access to a Federation computer database if she was going to find Captain Picard and the station was the most obvious choice. That was her mission – Picard was the only person in the Federation who might trust her and the only hope she had of finding out where the Federation was holding Michael Eddington. Assuming Eddington is alive. Ro winced as a thought she had been unconsciously repressing struck her. Assuming Picard didn't die during the war. Prophets, I hope the Captain is still alive.
She noted a large amount of space traffic moving between the planet and the station. Transports, freighters, and all kinds of smaller craft skated back and forth. Joining the Federation seems to have been good to Bajor. I'm glad it seems to have worked out well for everyone.
She brought up the computer and the list of fake ship IDs she had listed. Selecting one that seemed relatively innocuous, she hailed the station. "Deep Space Nine station operations, Lieutenant Dax speaking. How may we be of assistance?"
"This is the courier vessel…" Ro thought quickly. "Wellington." Ro winced. Wellington? What, am I trying to relive the mistakes of my past? Maybe Guinan was right, maybe I do subconsciously try to punish myself. "My vessel requires routine maintenance while I'm stopped over, Lieutenant."
"Understood, Wellington. You are cleared for Landing Pad B."
"Thank you, Ops." Ro cut the transmission and turned the vessel over to station keeping, letting the station computers guide the Gale safely into the Landing Pad. Her small vessel fit snugly into the pad, adjacent to a Starfleet runabout with the name Rio Grande written boldly across her hull. Finally, the ship shuddered to a halt as the docking clamps engaged to her hull and Ro exited her ship in search of information.
This is going to be more difficult than I thought. Ro groaned. She'd attempted to access the Federation database to find Captain Picard's current posting, but no luck – her old passcodes had long since been changed. Hacking the system had resulted in a near catastrophe, as station security almost caught her attempting to access the database. Who designed this system's safeguards, anyway?
She sat in the station bar, nursing a drink. On the colony, you ate and drank whatever happened to be available (or whatever you could get out of the old, broken down replicators), and Ro was somewhat grateful to have a selection to choose from. Of course, this place required currency payment, and money wasn't something she had in great surplus so she had to ration her tab.
The bartender kept shooting her looks that she didn't appreciate. She had spent many years perfecting her "leave me alone or you'll regret it" attitude and had faith the Ferengi wouldn't push his luck. At least, not too far.
Still, the bartender was making his way over. Small steps – two tables forward, one table back. Ro watched his progress with restrained amusement. She almost laughed as the Ferengi tripped over one of his waiters. A tray scattered a meal and a couple drinks down and across a barstool and onto the floor. "Broik!" the Ferengi howled. The waiter shuffled away to get something to clean up.
Ro turned her face away and let herself laugh, just a little.
When she turned back, the Ferengi was in her face and she felt a pressure on her left leg that felt uncomfortably like a hand. "I'm sorry about that little… inconvenience. My name is Quark, and I'm the owner of this fine establishment. Might I get you another drink?"
Ro stared into his eyes from less than three inches away. "If you don't remove your hand from my leg, we're both going to be spending time in sterile little rooms. I'll be in a two-by-four holding cell with a bed and a sink, and you'll be in the station's intensive care unit, missing one of your ears," she whispered. The pressure on her leg subsided.
"I think I might be falling in love with you," Quark said, grinning boldly. "What did you say your name was?"
"None of your business. Get lost," Ro growled, turning her head away.
Quark sat across from her on the table and leaned in. "What if I told you I could get you that information you were trying to access when you failed to penetrate the station's computer mainframe?" Quark asked in a voice barely over a whisper.
Ro's head shot up. "What?" she hissed.
"Keep your voice down!" Quark said in an excited whisper. He glanced around the room anxiously, but no one was paying them any mind. "Odo might be gone, but Kira still pays far too much attention to me than is deserved. I'm just an innocent bartender." Ro raised her eyebrow in a look that questioned the truthfulness of that statement. "Most… of the time," Quark qualified.
Ro leaned forwards in her chair, drink forgotten. "How did you know I had tried to get into the station mainframe? Tell me, or you will end up in the station infirmary and it'll be far worse than a missing ear."
"There's nothing that happens on this station that I don't know," Quark said. "I'll make you a deal." Quark flashed a toothy grin. "I'll get you into the mainframe and get the information you need. I'll even forget that you tried to get into the mainframe illegally and that this conversation ever happened. Not only that, but I'll forget that you were ever here"
"What's your price," Ro said flatly. I hate bargaining with Ferengi. Unfortunately, he has me at a disadvantage at the moment.
"Your name," Quark said.
"First or last," Ro asked, unfazed by the odd request. "You're not getting both. And I want the information first, before you get any payment." Quark threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender, then put his arm around Ro's back. He led her towards the back – although halfway there, he lost all feeling in his hand because Ro had cut off circulation by clamping her own down on his wrist.
By the time they got to the computer interface, the Ferengi was writhing. "Okay, okay! No more with the hands. Just let me go… please?" Quark gasped. Ro released him slowly, and Quark immediately collapsed, clasping his wrist as best he could.
"The information?" Ro asked, pointing at the console.
"Give me a second, I can't use a computer without two good hands!" Quark complained. He stood and shook his hand until it began to tingle as feeling returned. Finally he sighed and pulled a small box out from under the terminal, filled with small isolinear datarods. He held them up to the light, eyeing them one by one. "What do you want to know?"
"The current assignment and location of Captain Jean-Luc Picard."
"The captain of the Enterprise? What would you want that for?" At Ro's stifling look, he returned to his posture of surrender. "On second thought, maybe it's better that I don't know." Quark fished a particular datarod out of his box and inserted it into the computer. The Starfleet emblem popped up onto the screen. "Just a second… here we are. That was simple enough."
Ro pushed Quark out of the way, careful not to do any permanent damage to the Ferengi. Current posting: captain, USS Enterprise, NCC-1701-E. Current assignment: none, he's on shore leave. Last known location: Utopia Planitia Shipyards, Mars. Great, off to Earth, Ro mused. I wonder how I'll manage to penetrate that security network. It's not going to be easy to find him with just this to go on.
She moved off back towards the door that led back to the bar. "Thanks Quark. I owe you one," she said over her shoulder.
"Wait! What about your name?" Quark exclaimed, hustling behind her.
"Which one?"
"Um… both."
Ro turned to face the barkeep. She smiled a tight, lethal smile. "If I told you that, I think I'd have to kill you, Quark," she said. Then she turned her back and strode out of the bar.
"I was wrong," Quark said, breathing heavily. He watched her back sway until she was no longer in sight, and then turned back to his computer, wiping his brow. "I don't think I'm falling in love. I know I am."
Time to go, Ro thought as she strode down the Promenade. She slowed as there was a crowd between her and the docking hatch that led to the habitat ring and the landing pad. What's going on? She pushed her way into the crowd, listening for any useful information.
"The Emissary's son will be on soon!"
"Well, I don't worship the Emissary," Ro heard a human Starfleet ensign say to his companion. "But Captain Sisko's son makes a fine reporter, and the last few days had potential to be a big ones in the history of space exploration. Maybe we'll even hear some more news about Voyager, it's been a month since their return from the Delta Quadrant."
Ro was intrigued. She stopped pushing her way through the crowd of people and took up a position where she could see a monitor clearly and waited along with the rest of the people. After about ten seconds, it flashed and came to life, the letters "FNS" scrolling across the screen. She raised her eyebrows as a relatively young man appeared on the screen.
"This is the Federation News Service, reporting from Utopia Planitia Shipyards on Mars. My name is Jake Sisko." In a gesture that struck Ro as somewhat odd, Jake grinned widely into the camera. "I have great news for Federation members everywhere," he announced. "Two days ago at 2100 hours, San Francisco Standard, the Federation starship Hood under the command of Robert DeSoto and the supervision of Admiral Janeway made the first controlled transwarp flight of a Federation starship since Voyager returned from the Delta Quadrant. This signifies…" The rest of Jake's statement was lost as the crowd of people around began clapping.
Ro glanced from side to side. There were no Bajoran militia uniforms, but a great deal of the Bajorans here wore Starfleet uniforms alongside their alien counterparts. Everyone seemed enthused by this news. Eventually, the racket calmed as she could hear Jake speak again. He was joined on the screen by a face she remembered very well.
"Commander Riker, I understand you and the Enterprise played the role of lifeguard for the Hood." Ro watched in some astonishment as Will grinned into the camera. He doesn't look like he's aged a day. Incredible. But why doesn't he have his own ship yet?
"The Enterprise waited for the Hood to come out of transwarp and escorted her back to Earth after the flight. We all knew that the transwarp drive would function eventually – Voyager proved that during her mad chase after the Borg – but it means a lot to get it running on a starship other than Voyager. With the information gathered from the recent tests we'll be able to start equipping other vessels with transwarp coils. The Hood will be the only ship in the fleet that's transwarp capable for a while, probably a couple of months, but it won't be long before the entire Starfleet increases its rate of travel exponentially."
Jake grinned at Riker. "Thank you, Commander. I understand the Enterprise crew is going on leave. What are your plans?"
Riker laughed. "You can't ask me that question, Mr. Sisko. But, I'm probably going to spend some time in San Francisco and then relax for a while at the home I maintain in the town I was born." Riker winked at Jake. "I'm not saying where that is over the FNS, Mr. Sisko."
Jake dismissed Riker, but Ro leaned back with a small smile on her face. Alaska. Will is going to Alaska. Maybe I don't need to find Captain Picard after all. She perked back up as Jake went through a couple other pieces of news information, although there was nothing she found especially interesting. "To close, Starfleet's Judge Advocate General's office has set a date for the final decision about the Maquis members of Voyager's crew who arrived back in the Alpha Quadrant with the Intrepid-class starship last month. The hearing will be held in San Francisco ten days from now. I will be attending with several members of Voyager's Starfleet crew, some of whom I spoke to in the last few days."
Ro's eyes widened in shock. Maquis survivors aboard a ship lost in the Delta Quadrant? How could that have happened? She watched with bated breath, waiting for specific names. She didn't recognize any of the crewmen who spoke, but the last person Sisko interviewed gave her the information she needed.
Harry Kim grimaced into the camera. "It's not fair to Commander Chakotay," he said. "It's not fair to any of them, but especially not to him. He gave all he had for her for seven years and there was never a chance that he would betray the Captain. None of us would."
Commander Chakotay? Ro thought in shock. The same Lieutenant Commander Chakotay who taught my Advanced Tactics course during my additional training before I defected and who captained a Maquis raider before his disappearance seven years ago? Most importantly, a former Maquis cell leader who would have the command codes that could be used to help me control Eddington's missiles?
Ro kicked herself into motion, moving back towards the landing pad where she'd docked the Gale. Her mind buzzed with activity. There are two possibilities. Either he's one of the people responsible for the activation of the silo – which seems unlikely, since he disappeared before we even considered it's construction, hell, before Eddington even took over the Maquis – or I have an ally who might be able to help me stop those missiles before something really terrible happens to ruin the good mood around here.
The Paris residence was far larger than Owen Paris required. There was more than enough room for its three new occupants – Tom Paris, B'Elanna Torres, and Miral Kathryn Paris. A large house on the Pacific coast, overlooking San Francisco Bay, Tom had always admired the view, even as a child. His return to this house was unanticipated, to say the least. Many times during his youth he had walked away from it, swearing he would never return. The last time had ended with him storming off to join the Maquis.
Down the hall he could hear B'Elanna preparing to put Miral to sleep. This was not the life he expected to have, and it was not a life he ever dreamed of having. He had a wife, a child, a respected position in Starfleet, and a relationship with his father that was… amicable.
Tom ambled heavily down the stairs, dropping into a cushioned couch that looked through the window overlooking the bay. He watched the waves come in and out. Home. I've finally come home.
"Tom?" B'Elanna called, her footfalls lighter than his on the stairs as she descended to join him.
"The couch, B'Ela," he called back. His wife slipped over the side and next to him. "You asked me where home was, on Voyager when we were just getting into that last grand adventure," Tom said, resting his hand on hers. "I think we've found it. I hope we have."
B'Elanna exhaled roughly. "I could stay here, Tom. Be happy here. Although, who knows – maybe you and Miral will be visiting me and the rest of the Maquis in New Zealand."
Tom clenched his fingers around hers. "Captain Janeway won't let that happen. Excuse me, Admiral Janeway. Don't worry." B'Elanna rested back against the couch, closing her eyes. "Miral wore you out today, huh," Tom said with a grin. "Sorry I wasn't around for most of the afternoon – a bunch of Voyager's crew are getting together to go over and sort through the ship's logs. There's seven years of reports, most of which Starfleet has never seen. Someone's got to do it."
B'Elanna sat up. "I'll go hang out with Chakotay and Harry tomorrow, then. You stay home with Miral." She smiled sweetly, although he could read the sarcasm in her eyes. "After all, someone's got to do it."
Tom grinned. "I'd love to." He wrapped his arm around B'Elanna, but just as he was finally getting comfortable the door chimed. Tom sighed. "Did Dad forget his locking code again?" he groaned. Moving smoothly, he swung his legs up over the side of the couch and heaved himself down to the wood floor, then walked over to the front door, B'Elanna looking behind him. Slipping on the floor, he nearly fell to the ground but caught himself on the way down. He sent a scowl behind him at B'Elanna's burst of laughter and tapped the button on the side of the door, which slid open.
"Hi Tom. Is your father around?"
"Captain… I mean Admiral! Come in, B'Elanna and I were just talking about you," Tom grinned and used his arm to usher Admiral Janeway into the house. "I'm afraid Admiral Paris isn't available at the moment. He's not home yet – another late night at the office, I'm afraid. Some things never change." He led Janeway over towards the couch. "Come on, join B'Elanna and me. Miral is sleeping, although I'm sure she'd be thrilled to see you if she were awake."
Tom returned to his place next to B'Elanna while Janeway sat in a chair that was angled towards both the couch and the window, crossing her legs. "How are you two?" Janeway asked with a smile.
"Tired," B'Elanna quipped. "Miral is almost as exhausting as keeping Voyager's warp engine working at optimum efficiency for seven years without a full overhaul."
Tom laughed. "And I haven't been around to help out much. Chakotay and Harry are leading a team to go through Voyager's logs and create a concise report for Starfleet Command – although how you create a concise report of the last seven years, I don't know." Tom grinned. "I will say this – it's nice to be near a food replicator that doesn't have a ration limit. I still berate myself for ordering expensive meals."
Janeway smiled. "I know the feeling. Being able to have my daily coffee regimen without having to worry about not having enough rations to pay for dinner is incredibly refreshing."
Tom sat up. "Why are you here, ma'am?"
Janeway's eyes narrowed. "What Lieutenant, am I not allowed to come and stop by to see my beautiful namesake during the evening hours?"
"Of course you can, Admiral. But that's not why you're here," Tom countered.
Janeway sighed. "An unfortunate truth. I'm here to talk to your father about the upcoming Maquis hearing. I've been busy on the transwarp project and haven't seen him much." She shrugged. "I hear all kinds of things but I'm not exactly in the information loop just yet. Not only have I been gone for seven years, but I'm also a new admiral. The old admirals don't know if they like me yet and the captains aren't sure if they can trust me." She shook her head. "I know how they feel. I don't trust the admiralty either."
B'Elanna's hand clenched into a fist. "It's not fair that they're doing this to us now, after so many years out there doing our best to become a team." Janeway just nodded her assent.
They all turned as they heard the front door close. "Tom, why is this door open?" someone called from the front. Tom sighed heavily.
"Admiral Janeway's here, Dad," he called back. He muttered something to B'Elanna that Janeway couldn't quite hear, although B'Elanna found it amusing. Janeway stood and moved out to greet Owen.
"You two go spend time with Miral," Janeway whispered on her way past. "Don't worry, I don't intend to let anything happen to any members of my crew." Tom and B'Elanna shared a glance and then, as had become their habit over the last seven years, followed their captain's orders. Both vanished up the stairwell as Owen shucked off his Admiral's jacket.
"Katie, how are you?" he asked with a big grin. Janeway embraced him, flashing a smile of her own and Owen led the two of them back to the chairs. Janeway resumed her previous chair and Owen occupied the seat across from her. "It's an amazing view, isn't it," Owen said, gazing out into the bay. "I've lived here ever since I was promoted to Admiral, when I was home on Earth of course, but I've never gotten tired of it."
They both watched the waves in silence for a few seconds, but then Owen sighed and turned his attention back to Janeway. "I know why you're here, Admiral," he said. "I'm not sure I have any answers for you yet."
"What do you know, Owen?"
"That the San Francisco JAG office is insistent on prosecuting – they really have no choice, they set the precedent with all the Maquis trials they held years ago – but I think you don't have to worry. If what I hear is right, your crew should get the same punishments the other Maquis members got during the trials five or so years ago – nothing longer than five years for anyone but high ranking defectors. That would be cancelled out by their service under you."
"And Chakotay?" Janeway asked quietly.
"The precedent was ten years for an active defector, coupled with a dishonorable discharge from Starfleet." Janeway moved forward, preparing for a fight, but Owen held out his hand to stop her. "But, Katie, I think Chakotay is going to end up with less than that due to his service to the Federation. I'll be surprised – shocked – if he's sentenced to any jail time. Moreover, I'm positive that he'll be allowed to retain his commission." Owen smiled. "He's too good of an officer to lose him again."
Janeway shook her head in disgust. "It's not fair, Owen. Whatever they did as Maquis, they more than repaid their debts to society on my ship. I daresay they paid them over and over again out in the Delta Quadrant, fighting the Borg, 8472, putting up with Q, and whatever else. I don't even remember it all anymore." She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs again, staring out into the window. "We almost certainly saved all this at least twice," she said, gesturing out at the calm waters.
"I know, Katie. I'm working on the inside. I don't want to see my granddaughter's mother spending time in a penal colony for crimes that – in all honesty, looking back – she was probably justified in committing. Starfleet officers, for the most part, no longer remember the Maquis as renegades or traitors, but as people who went out and sacrificed everything they had to protect people who couldn't protect themselves." Owen stopped, then sighed. "Enough good people died during the war. Starfleet officers, Maquis, Klingons, Romulans, even Cardassians. The Dominion did a lot of damage out here. I hope the JAG office doesn't cause any more."
"As do I, Owen," Janeway agreed.
"I really do think it's nothing to worry about, Katie. Admiral Nechayev is still pretty bitter about the whole affair, seeing as she was the one responsible for maintaining the peace in the demilitarized zone. But she's been pretty quiet on the issue." Owen shrugged. "I'm doing my best to make sure it is just a formality." He stood. "I'm going to go make some tea to help me get some sleep. I need to be up early tomorrow and back at headquarters, banging on doors to make people listen. Feel free to stay the night, if you wish."
"No, Admiral. I've got to get home." Janeway stood. "Thanks for everything you're doing, Owen. My crew and I owe you."
"Katie, everyone in the Federation owes you. We won't forget that." Owen walked over to the replicator as Janeway straightened out her uniform. "Where are you staying anyway?" Owen asked.
Janeway looked up, eyes darting to Owen, who was still facing the other direction. "San Francisco, near the Academy," she responded. "If you need me, just com me," she said, tapping her combadge. "I'll see you tomorrow at headquarters, if I'm not working with DeSoto on the Hood. Give Miral a kiss for me." Janeway slipped back out the door, making sure to close it behind her.
