Disclaimer: See part 1.1

Community Property

By mizvoy

Part 2.5 Resolve

Jan. 16, 2380-The next morning

U.S.S. Hankeel

"His name was Rette?" Tuvok asked, frowning, as Janeway kept her back to him, replicating a cup of coffee in her quarters. The informant had been delayed in his arrival, and so she'd ended up spending the night on the station, returning just a few moments earlier. "I'm trying to remember if I met anyone by that name while I was with the Maquis."

"You might have. He said he'd been in the Maquis while you were serving in Chakotay's cell." Janeway turned and took a deep draft of coffee, smiling with satisfaction. "I'm sure I've never met him."

"Yet he had the nerve to approach a Starfleet admiral, a complete stranger, with sensitive information that could put his life in danger?"

"I'm not sure it was 'nerve' as much as a mission that he accepted." She turned and strode to her desk, sitting down and leaning back with a sigh. "He'd been well briefed on what to expect from me. He answered every question I asked in admirable fashion and without hesitation."

"Briefed? You don't think Rette is the clandestine informant?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You know who I think the informant is."

"But he didn't say that Chakotay sent him to see you?"

"He referred to him as 'the boss.'" She frowned, "He did claim that he'd never heard of the Trebus Transport Company, but that might just mean that Chakotay contacted him directly, outside of his work channels. Kira has been unable to find anyone with his name in their records, which makes me suspect that he doesn't exist in our records, either."

She reached forward and activated her computer, slipped in a data chip that Rette had given her, and downloaded the information that was on it into her console. He knew, at once, that she'd while she had been on DS9 she had poured over the data. He said, "So Rette is not the person who actually took the scans of the drug ring."

She glanced up and shook her head. "No, I don't think so; for one thing, he never served in Starfleet, and whoever did these scans was once a Starfleet officer. I want you to look at the analysis he gave me of the scans. Look at the evidence, but also the format, the organization of the report, and the way the supplemental material is referenced." She chose a random PADD, downloaded the report into it, and then held it out toward him. "If the previous information was a clue, this is irrefutable evidence of the informant's identity."

While Tuvok read the report, Janeway settled at her desk and began to do some preliminary work on the course the Hankeel's strategic shuttle, Redmon, would follow in its preliminary search for the smugglers inside the Badlands. She was still working when Tuvok looked up and said, "Chakotay obviously wrote this report."

"I thought so, too." She leaned back in her chair and picked up the mug again, her eyes focused somewhere over Tuvok's left shoulder. "It's in a Starfleet format, and, as I said last night, the search pattern he used is one we used routinely on Voyager in later years. He didn't even try to disguise it from us."

"Indeed." Tuvok looked at the PADD again, a bit confused. "Why not?"

"I have no idea. Perhaps he heard that you and I were being assigned to work on this mission and wanted us to know the scans were bona fide. Maybe he knew that the Starfleet format would let whoever was in charge of the mission see that his analysis was systematic and authentic."

"Why didn't Chakotay deliver the information in person?"

"Good question. He's probably protecting himself, his employer, and his family from retribution." Janeway scowled as she set the mug on her desk and then looked up at him, her eyes betraying the disappointment she was otherwise careful to repress. "Or maybe he's still angry with me."

"It's unlike him to carry a grudge for such a long time, especially against you, and especially when doing so might complicate a potentially dangerous mission."

"I hope you're right. Let's just hope that if we need his help out there, he'll put his feelings aside and assist us."

"Do you think we'll need his help?"

"Tuvok, these scans show that these smugglers are hiding their main base of operations somewhere deep in the Badlands. Who knows that area better than the Maquis? Better than Chakotay?" She brought a trembling hand to the bridge of her nose. "I think we'll eventually have to go into the Badlands and smoke them out."

"Luckily, I, too, have extensive experience in the area."

"Luckily." She shrugged and picked up a second data chip that Rette had left with her, taking a moment to download the information it contained. After a moment, she handed it to Tuvok, as well. "This has more specific data on the smugglers—the ships they use, their usual routes, that sort of thing."

Tuvok scanned the screen and frowned. "They are brash in their movements, obviously unafraid of being caught."

"They've had no reason to worry—up until now—and they have to know we are here." She turned to her view screen and pulled up the most recent chart of the Badlands. "Near the end of the Dominion War, there were rumors of a Ketracel white plant being built in some of the worst areas of the Badlands. I'm thinking this might be what we look for first."

"Rumors?" Tuvok was not pleased. "Searching in that region is a dangerous task. It would be better to have a specific location."

"It was a tumultuous time, Tuvok. The best we have is a sector, nothing more specific."

Tuvok shook his head. "Before we can plan our attack, we have to know exactly where they are."

"That's why we're going to find it first."

"'We' are going to find it?"

"I don't want to risk more than a single ship and a small crew for the recon mission. I've looked at the reports from the war, and the best I can tell is that this plant is in the most volatile region, which makes sense."

"The smugglers are well funded. They will have an elaborate sensor system to warn them of approaching ships," Tuvok stated.

"Maybe." She shrugged. "I'm thinking there is a chance that they are letting the Badlands protect them—but either way, we will be careful."

"'We' will be careful," he repeated again.

She fixed him with a glare. "I'll be leading the mission."

"Admiral—"

She stopped him with a raised hand. "I want to see what we are up against, and I want to see it first hand. Captain O'Dell will be in charge of the actual mission, once we have the exact location, but I will not be persuaded to stay behind."

Tuvok crossed his arms over his chest. "I think that you are making a mistake."

"You are free to think whatever you want as long as you follow orders."

"You know I will, Admiral." Tuvok knew that this was only the first round of the argument. O'Dell would make a valiant effort to change her mind, and it might even become loud and vocal, but Janeway would not be dissuaded. She was tired of being behind a desk, stuck in Sector 001, and she would enjoy taking the Hankeel's version of the Delta Flyer, the Redmon, into the Badlands to do the reconnaissance. "And I will accompany you."

"Very well. Let's get started. Tell the captain I'll forward our first heading to the bridge by the time we leave the Bajoran system. Then, once we're underway, we'll meet and go over these wartime reports in detail."

"Aye, Admiral."

The door had barely closed behind Tuvok when Janeway's terminal chimed with an incoming subspace message. Irritated by the interruption, she checked its origin and groaned in frustration. Taking a moment to school her expression, she forwarded a preliminary course to the bridge and then activated the screen.

"Hello, Seven." She smiled at the young woman, but her efforts did little to lighten Seven's look of exasperation. In the weeks since Janeway had taken this assignment in deep space, Seven had been forced to cope with life on her own, and at times her emotions had been volatile, especially if she felt that her mentor was neglecting her. Janeway pressed on, "Is it Sunday morning already?"

"It's Sunday afternoon, Admiral, late Sunday afternoon." Seven raised a brow for emphasis.

Janeway closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Seven. I've been gone for two Sundays so far and have been late contacting you at our agreed-upon both days. Perhaps if I had an internal clock like yours, I'd do a better job of remembering when to call."

"I could assimilate you," she replied. "Then we wouldn't have to rely on subspace to communicate." Seven's expression softened as Janeway chuckled at the joke. "I'm sure you have another good reason for your oversight."

"I spent last night on DS9, so I wasn't here for the computer's reminder this morning," the admiral replied, relieved to see forgiveness in Seven's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, I understand. Ship time is quite different from planetary time," Seven gave her a charitable smile, her face lighting up and adding to her natural beauty. Janeway couldn't help but admire her, the full, luscious lips and blond hair, the bright blue eyes that now sparkled with good humor. Seven was becoming more and more human as time passed, a fact that Janeway found extremely satisfying. "Perhaps we should rethink our decision to contact each other in person and resort to recorded messages."

"That might be better, to tell the truth. I'm going to be even busier now that we're underway." She settled back in her chair as the ship's warp engines came online. "So, how are you, Seven?"

"I'm well. I've adjusted to your absence, and the work schedule here on Jupiter Station keeps me busy. I've also managed to familiarize myself with the idiosyncrasies of my coworkers."

Janeway smiled and wondered if she should ask how well her coworkers were adjusting to Seven's idiosyncrasies. "And the work? You're enjoying that, as well?"

"It's adequate for now. As you said, my main task is to establish an independent persona while completing satisfying work."

"And having some fun, Seven. You need to loosen up a little, make some friends."

A grimace of distaste accompanied a slightly strident tone in her response. "As I recall, you had very few friends and very little 'fun' on Voyager. I think that 'fun' is over-rated."

Janeway caught her breath and then held up her empty mug, grateful for an excuse to step away from the screen for a moment. "Hold on while I get a refill."

She moved slowly through the room, so similar to her quarters on Voyager that she was oblivious to her surroundings. At some point in the last year, Janeway had become aware of a disparity between the person Seven of Nine perceived her to be and the person she really was. Seven idolized the Captain Janeway she'd first known, the Starfleet officer who had been as fixated on work and success as the Borg queen had been on the well-being of her collective. This was an accurate view of her life in the Delta Quadrant, since Janeway had seldom indulged in "fun and friendship," as Seven had pointed out.

Yet Janeway had worked hard to put that persona behind her since Voyager had returned. She had explained to the younger woman how miserable and frustrated she'd been while serving as Voyager's captain, how much she'd missed having fun, how much she'd longed for friendship and personal contact. Hungered for it. Craved it.

During those seven years, she'd wished for an afternoon with other women, drinking coffee, talking about men, crocheting or knitting or baking cookies, trying out new clothes or new hairdos, discussing the most recent best seller. She'd dreamed of an evening with the guys, playing pool or throwing darts, trash talking, teasing, flirting shamelessly, telling ribald jokes, laughing until she cried. Oh, and she'd ached to touch bare skin and to feel warm hands exploring her body, to lie down and share her breath and her warmth with a man, to sleep while being held in strong arms, to let down her defenses and relish the feminine weakness and vulnerability that she allowed herself to feel when she opened herself to a man's advances.

She put her hands above the replicator and rested her forehead on the wall as the familiar Delta Quadrant despair washed over her once again. Loneliness. Solitude. Isolation. Endless duty and suffocating responsibility. Deep inside, Janeway was still struggling to overcome the damage done by her months and years as Voyager's captain, and yet it was that skewed person that Seven most admired.

"Admiral?" Seven's disembodied voice came to her from across the room. "Admiral, are you still there?"

"Sorry, I'll be right there," she said over her shoulder, and then whispered, "Coffee, black." Sipping the drink, she returned to her desk, smiling as she sat down in front of the screen. "I apologize, Seven. I was sidetracked for a minute, maybe because I didn't sleep well last night."

Seven was concerned. "You're tired and distracted, and sleeping in an unfamiliar place. I should end this and allow you to rest."

"No, Seven, I want to talk to you about something important." She paused to think, absently running her finger around the rim of the coffee mug. "You often refer to my behavior on Voyager as being the model for your actions."

Seven inclined her head slightly. "I frequently accused you of trying to make me conform to 'your image,' but I realize now that I was wrong. You were always fair and patient and allowed for my individuality, and for that I'm grateful."

"You're welcome, Seven. But you must remember that I was caught in an abnormal situation that called for atypical behavior. The woman I am now is much closer to my 'normal' self than Captain Janeway was." When she saw Seven frown slightly, she continued, "I like to have fun as much as the next person. In fact, I need to have fun, and enjoy having many friends."

"I never meant to imply that I wanted to be like you, Admiral."

"I'm not making myself clear." She sipped her coffee and then resumed. "Remember Shannon O'Donnell?"

"The relative that you mistakenly believed had been instrumental in the building of the Milleneum Gate."

"Right. I idolized Shannon-the person I thought she was-only to have that view of her ruined when I learned the truth about her life. I was afraid of how my Aunt Martha would react when I told her that she was wrong about Shannon. Imagine my surprise when Aunt Martha just laughed and brushed it off. She said that Shannon was a family myth that had inspired many Janeway women and would continue to do so. She said that in her experience we usually chose role models that have the strengths we admire and want to make stronger in ourselves."

"So, it isn't that we become like our idols, it's that we chose idols that fit who we are or are becoming."

"Exactly."

"And you think that as the captain on Voyager, you had many of the qualities that were strong in my personality."

"In many ways, I think that's true. I was isolated from most of the crew and obsessed by my goal, but I must have seemed very human to someone who was a former Borg drone. Many of my more carefree human qualities were repressed because of my position, yet I must have seemed quite independent and autonomous compared the life in the Collective."

Seven nodded. "I think I understand."

"I just want you to know that if I continue to change into someone you might not recognize, it's because I'm continuing to reclaim my former self."

"I understand." Seven had often accused Voyager's crew of overemphasizing "frivolous" activities that were, in her opinion, an inane waste of time. Yet, it had occurred to her recently that such activities were actually a quite normal behavior for human beings. "I suppose I will also continue to change."

"I think so. You might think about being more lighthearted and playful. I want you to start valuing your free time as much as you do your work."

"I will try to do so."

Janeway gave her a wistful smile and shook her head slightly. "There's nothing wrong with just letting loose of your self control once in awhile, either."

Before Seven could reply, the ship's intercom activated. "Admiral to the bridge."

Janeway sighed. "That's my cue."

"Good luck in your mission, Admiral."

"Thank you, Seven. I'll try to remember to call you next Sunday morning."

"Call when you can, and I'll call you, if you forget."

"Thanks." The screen went blank as Janeway finished her coffee and stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her slacks as she stretched her back. It was gratifying to see Seven start to deal with issues on her own, and Janeway decided that she should take advantage of the young woman's burgeoning self-confidence and resume a more active private life of her own.

"But first," she thought to herself as she headed for the bridge, "I need to find a man with enough guts to put up with me."

She hoped she already knew the best man for the job.

In the meantime, she had a mission to plan.

tbc