I.

ONE WEEK EARLIER...

"Captain Janeway." The admiral was taller than Janeway, but thin, with a gaunt face and sunken eyes. His blonde hair was greying, and his brown eyes darted around the transporter room before settling on her. He stepped off the transporter pad and extended a bony hand. "Admiral Vince Garrett, Starfleet Advanced Technologies Division."

"Admiral Garrett, welcome aboard Voyager," Janeway said.

"Thank you, Captain. I believe Admiral Paris informed you of the purpose of my visit."

Janeway nodded. "I understand that you're here to look at the ablative hull armor."

"Yes, as well as the other modifications you've made."

"Follow me, Admiral." Garrett followed her through the corridor, and she tried not to show her instinctive dislike of the man. He was the latest in a long line of Starfleet brass that had poked, prodded, and surveyed her ship since they had returned home two weeks earlier. Their first two weeks back in the Alpha Quadrant had consisted of nothing but debriefings and visits from admirals and analysts.

In spite of her annoyance, she felt that Starfleet's overbearing need to survey and control their technology was a small price to pay for the freedom of her crew. Despite both her and Chakotay's fears, the former Maquis had been granted their field commissions, and all charges against them had been dropped. Seven of Nine and Icheb were both free to pursue their lives on Earth. The Doctor had been granted his independence and the rights of a Starfleet officer. The debriefings were almost concluded, and it seemed that their homecoming would pass without incident. Janeway sighed as she led Garrett into engineering and wondered why, when everything was going so smoothly, she still felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Ensign Vorik," Janeway said as they entered engineering, "this is Admiral Garrett." The ship was running on a skeleton crew, as most of the crew, including most of the senior staff, had been dismissed after their debriefings had concluded. They had all been granted a full month of leave. Tuvok had gone straight to Vulcan to receive treatment for his illness, and Tom and B'Elanna were on maternity and paternity leave following the birth of their daughter. Vorik had been left in charge of engineering. "The admiral would like to take a look at our systems, Ensign," Janeway continued. "You're to assist him with whatever he needs."

"Understood."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Admiral?" she asked Garrett, who was already approaching an engineering station.

"After I'm done here, I'd like to see your astrometrics lab. If you'll be so good as to escort me there, Captain?"

"Of course." She turned to Vorik. "Let me know when the admiral is done here, Ensign."

"Aye, Captain."

"Oh, and one more thing," said Garrett, looking up from the engineering station. "Is your former Borg still aboard?"

Janeway bristled. "Seven of Nine is not my former Borg. She is very much her own person, and she debarked yesterday."

"A pity," Garrett replied. "I would so like to meet her."

"Perhaps you'll get the opportunity at a later date," Janeway said, fighting to keep her tone pleasant. "Ensign Vorik, I'll be in my ready room."

Vorik nodded, and Janeway left the Vulcan alone with the admiral. Poor Vorik, she thought ruefully. She wouldn't want to be alone with the man and his questions, especially not after the admiral's disrespectful attitude towards Seven. As she stepped into the turbolift, she sighed. She hoped she would be able to spare Seven the pain of prejudicial attitudes, but she knew that unfortunately, some would always see Seven as Borg.

She stepped onto the bridge. "Report, Ensign Kim."

"Nothing to report, Captain," Harry replied, standing up from the captain's chair.

She was grateful that Harry had been part of the skeleton crew assigned to stay on Voyager. "I suppose we should call that a welcome change, Ensign."

"Yes, Captain. It's good to be home."

She passed close to him. "If one more of those admirals sets foot on my ship, I may go rogue and take Voyager back to the Delta Quadrant."

Harry laughed. "The admiralty doesn't know who they're dealing with when they're up against Captain Janeway."

She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you for that, Harry. I needed it. I'll be in my ready room if you need me." She rolled her eyes. "Or when Admiral Garrett demands my presence."

"I'm sure it can't be that bad, Captain," Harry tried to console her.

"Just wait till you're a captain, Harry. You'll see." She entered her ready room leaving a grinning Harry Kim behind her.

Rounding her desk, Kathryn flopped down into her chair, letting her face fall. She felt it was crucial that she put up the best front she could in front of the crew. And she was happy to be home, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was wrong persisted. Was it Admiral Garrett's casual comment about "her" former Borg? Or just the constant flow of Starfleet brass invading what felt her personal territory? Had she lost touch with her Starfleet roots so completely that she no longer felt comfortable in a chain of command? Perhaps that was the root of her discomfort—the fear that while she had gotten her crew home, she would no longer fit in where she had once belonged. Or, perhaps, it was something more personal.

With no pressing matters requiring her attention, she allowed her mind to drift over the events of the past few weeks. She remained unsure what to make of her meeting with her future self. Seeing what she had become in the admiral's timeline had been a powerful motivator to bring Voyager home early, as had Tuvok's illness and everything else the admiral had told her.

The revelation of Chakotay's relationship with Seven had shocked her, and it had taken her several days of deep contemplation to find in her heart what to say to him. Her relationship with Chakotay had always been complex. They had begun as enemies but become close friends, brought together by extraordinary circumstances and held together by shared values, a common purpose, and a deep mutual respect and affection. For many years, there had been an unspoken attraction between them, tamped down only by parameters of position and circumstance. While her instinctive reaction to the knowledge of Chakotay's fledgling relationship with Seven had been anger and disappointment, long and hard reflection had led her to a deeper truth. She cared for Chakotay as much as she had ever cared for anyone. And more than anything, she wanted him to be happy. If a relationship with Seven was part of his happiness, as the admiral had seemed to suggest, she would not and could not stand in their way. There had been a time when she had thought that their homecoming would mean that she and Chakotay would finally have the freedom to pursue the feelings that had been shared, unspoken, between them for so long. But she had always known that day might never come. If he now had a true chance at happiness with Seven, she could only wish them the best. She knew that she would be fine.

So, when Seven and Chakotay had beamed off Voyager together, she had congratulated them. She had hugged Seven warmly, and then taken both of Chakotay's hands in hers. "I wish you every happiness." And this was the truth. She missed Chakotay terribly, now, and wished he were beside her to sympathize with her frustrations with admirals and Starfleet brass. She shook her head. At least you're having more fun than I am, she thought, as if he could hear her.

"Vorik to Captain Janeway." The ensign's comm signal snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Janeway here."

"Admiral Garrett is on his way to astrometrics. I told him he should wait for you, but he wouldn't listen to me, Captain."

"Thank you, Ensign. Janeway out." Shaking off the melancholy of her thoughts, she stood and hurried out of the ready room. She wanted to get to astrometrics before Garrett did any damage. But when she arrived, she discovered that the damage had already been done. Garrett was already at a computer terminal digging through classified files.

"Captain Janeway," Garrett greeted her with a thin smile. "Thank you for joining me. Your Borg drone has done some incredible work here, integrating Borg technology with Voyager's systems, not to mention the technology developed by the future Admiral Janeway."

"As I told you before, Admiral, Seven is not a Borg drone, and she is certainly not mine. As for the technology brought back by my future self, it has been placed in my care, but I am in no way responsible for its existence."

"You misunderstand me, Captain. I am complimenting your ingenuity, as well as that of Seven of Nine. The integration of Borg technology into Voyager's systems is admirable."

"Yes," Janeway agreed hesitantly. "My people have done great work."

"The Advanced Technologies Division will be confiscating all of these systems."

"Confiscating?"

"They'll be moved to a secure warehouse at Starfleet Headquarters where our scientists and engineers can study them further." Garrett smiled, an expression that seemed intended to be kind but that came across to her as one of pity. "Your work here is done, Captain," he continued in a patronizing tone. "A Starfleet team will be beaming aboard to remove the technology from the future and the systems which have been enhanced by Borg technology."

"Surely my staff is the most qualified for the task of dismantling those systems," she said, distaste in her mouth at the thought of taking apart her beloved ship.

"Your staff won't be necessary, Captain. You've all been granted a month's leave, remember?"

"But my people are more familiar with Voyager. We know this technology. We know how it's integrated into the ship's systems."

"I appreciate the offer, Captain, but your assistance really won't be necessary."

"Admiral, with all due respect, your people might damage something without even knowing it."

"My people are perfectly capable," replied Garrett in a steely tone.

Janeway put her hands on her hips. "Regardless of how capable they are, they don't know Voyager's systems like my crew does."

"Captain, how can I make myself more clear? You and your people won't be needed. We have teams of scientists and engineers who are trained to handle this type of situation."

"No one is trained to handle Delta Quadrant technology," she shot back. "No one here at Starfleet Command has ever seen it before."

"You and your people have a unique perspective, yes," Garrett acknowledged, "but you don't have to do everything anymore. You may have forgotten that, Captain."

Janeway glared at the admiral. "And when you dismantle my ship?" she asked. "Then what?"

"Captain Janeway," said Garrett with a sickly sweet smile, "I don't believe that is any of your concern."

"What does Starfleet plan to do with Admiral Janeway's technology?" Janeway asked as she sat across the desk from Admiral Owen Paris the following morning.

"I know that research teams are being put together to study it," Paris replied.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, do you know why none of my people are being permitted to assist him in this… dismantling?"

"I don't know Admiral Garrett very well. He hasn't been assigned to San Francisco for very long. But from what I've heard, he's extremely particular about everything he does."

Janeway grimaced. "So am I. Especially when it comes to my ship."

"I'm sorry, Kathryn, but Voyager isn't yours anymore. She belongs to Starfleet."

"I know that. It's just that after so many years…"

"She feels like home," said Paris with a smile. "I understand, but unfortunately, my understanding doesn't change your orders."

"Do you know what Starfleet plans to do with the technology from Voyager?"

"I don't."

"Has Admiral Garrett filed a report indicating his plans?"

"Not that I have access to. The Advanced Technologies Division refines and develops advanced technology. Voyager's upgraded systems certainly fall within that purview."

"Does that satisfy you?" Janeway asked.

Paris grimaced. "It's not unusual for projects like this to be on a need-to-know basis. I don't need to know. Neither do you."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I have a responsibility to that technology. Especially the Borg enhancements. It's here because of me. If Starfleet plans to use it to create some kind of weapon…"

"You'd feel responsible."

Janeway nodded.

"I know, Kathryn, because I know you," said Paris gently. "But you're going to have to give up some control now that you're back in the Alpha Quadrant. You don't need to be responsible for everything here." Janeway opened her mouth to reply but thought better of it. Paris continued, "My advice is to step back. Take the leave you've been granted. Enjoy the time with your family. In fact, Linda and I would love for you to join us for dinner tomorrow. Tom and B'Elanna will be there with my granddaughter." Owen seemed to beam with pride at the mention of little Miral.

"Thank you for the invitation, sir," Janeway replied, "but I'll have to take a rain check. I owe my mother a visit. I haven't seen her since the debriefings ended."

"Good. Give her our best regards."

Janeway nodded as she stood to leave Paris' office. "I will, sir." She didn't tell Paris that she had other plans for the next few days that didn't involve taking any of his advice.

Rather than going to see her mother as she had told Admiral Paris she would, Janeway spent the afternoon doing some research into Admiral Garrett. According to his Starfleet personnel record, Admiral Vince Garrett had been born in New York City. His father had been a politician who had served on the Federation Council, and his mother had been a scientist. His Academy record was average at best, but it seemed that after he had graduated from the Academy, he had quickly risen through the ranks. This told Janeway that his rise had been borne of a desire for power and influence rather than competence. Her own father had taught her at a young age that there were two types of admirals—those like him or Admiral Paris, who had risen through the ranks, served in the field and joined the admiralty out of a desire to improve Starfleet, and those who simply wanted to be admirals out of a desire for power over others. Over the course of her career, she had seen both types, and in every case, her father's observations had proven true. She had never liked the admirals like Garrett.

Garrett had flitted around to a few different departments before finally landing in the Advanced Technologies Division. Early in his career as an admiral, he'd been assigned to a world on the Federation border, and he had not returned to San Francisco until after the Dominion War. The records of Garrett's activities during the war, however, were strangely absent from his Starfleet record. She had not been lacking the clearance; the records simply weren't there. Further, no one in the admiralty seemed to know Garrett very well. She'd spoken to Admiral Patterson, an old friend of her father's, about Garrett, and he'd had the same reaction as Admiral Paris.

Something about the whole situation wasn't sitting right with her. She had a bad feeling about Garrett's involvement with Voyager's dismantling, and she had learned long ago to trust her instincts. The bad feeling that remained in her stomach had led her to a late night visit to Starfleet Headquarters. She'd been hoping to use one of B'Elanna's Maquis tricks to enter Garrett's office undetected, go through his computer console, and see whether her fears about his motives were justified. Instead, when she started to turn down the corridor that led to Garrett's office, she heard voices. Quickly, she ducked back into the corridor she'd come from.

One of the voices was Garrett. "Assemble your team, Doctor," he was saying. "We'll be beaming up to Voyager at 2400 to obtain the necessary copies of their logs and technology before it is transported to Starfleet Headquarters tomorrow."

"Very well, Admiral," another male voice replied. "We'll be ready."

"Good. Meet me in the transporter room in one hour."

Janeway listened carefully for footsteps, but they seemed to be moving away from her. She sighed and slumped against the corridor wall. Did Garrett have Starfleet's permission to beam aboard Voyager in the middle of the night? Was this just part of Starfleet's plan that she didn't "need to know"? She grimaced. Her instincts were screaming at her to follow Garrett and protect her ship. Her command codes had not been disabled, and she could use them to mask her transporter signal from Voyager's sensors. She could use a tricorder to link with the ship's computer and beam herself up without alerting Starfleet Command or using an official transporter room at Headquarters.

Garrett might check the ship for life signs when he beamed up with his team, so she'd have to arrive after they did. She found a secluded spot on Starfleet grounds to wait. She programmed her tricorder to link with Voyager's computer and waited until it informed her that there were life signs aboard the ship. She set the tricorder for transport and beamed aboard. She smiled to herself. Harry is right, she thought. They don't know who they're dealing with when they're up against Captain Janeway. "Computer," she said softly, "how many life signs are aboard besides myself?"

"Seventeen."

"Location?"

"There are eight life signs in engineering and nine in astrometrics."

"Computer, what is the location of Admiral Vince Garrett?"

"Admiral Garrett is in engineering."

Engineering was good. From the upper level, it was easy to sneak out of the Jefferies Tube unobserved. She set the transporter controls for Jefferies Tube eighteen and programmed the computer to mask the transport. She stepped back up onto the transporter pad and ordered, "Energize."

As she popped the Jefferies Tube hatch that led to the upper level of engineering, she listened closely. There were definitely voices, but they sounded like they were on the lower level. Very slowly, she opened the hatch the rest of the way and peered out. No one was on the upper level, so she crept out of the hatch and hid behind a console, peering down at the activity below.

"How's it coming?" Admiral Garrett said anxiously, leaning over the shoulder of one of his men.

"We're almost done copying the schematics for the ablative hull armor. The integration is complicated. It would have been helpful to have the person who installed it here."

"I don't need your opinions, Lieutenant," Garrett shot back. "Just get it done."

"Yes, sir."

"Admiral," said another man's voice, "look at this."

Janeway peered over the ledge a little farther to see who was speaking. The voice sounded like the same voice she'd heard in the corridor. The man who had called Garrett over was shorter than the admiral and balding. He wore a white lab coat over civilian clothes. He was gesturing at one of the work screens, but Janeway was too far up to see what he was pointing to. "Explain, Doctor," said Garrett.

"It's cargo bay two. This is where their Borg lived. It's been completely transformed. Even though the regeneration alcoves have been removed—likely because the Borg still use them —the Borg technology is fully integrated with the ship's systems. Almost everything we need is here. If not the technology itself, the information I need to build it."

"Excellent," said Garrett. He then ordered three of his men to accompany the doctor to cargo bay two. He left the lieutenant in charge of engineering and headed for sneaked back into the Jefferies Tube, closed the hatch, and sat back against the wall. What did Garrett and this doctor want with Borg technology? What could they be building that required regeneration alcoves? It was starting to seem that Garrett was less interested in the future Starfleet technology than he was in obtaining anything relating to the Borg. But why? Was he working on a way to combat the Borg? If so, there was no reason for all the secrecy. There had to be something else to it.

Now, she had to make a choice. Should she follow the doctor to cargo bay two, or follow Garrett to astrometrics? After a brief moment of consideration, she decided to make her way to astrometrics. Garrett seemed to be the one in charge. If she was going to learn more about what he was planning, she'd have to follow him. Astrometrics wouldn't be as easy to spy on as engineering, but, fortunately, she had some other tricks up her sleeve.

When she arrived at the Jefferies Tube hatch that led to astrometrics, she removed a small audio surveillance device from her belt and attached it to the door. She then calibrated the device to align with Voyager's audio sensors. The device was something they'd picked up from a friendly Delta Quadrant race and wasn't easily detected by Starfleet sensors. She had been planning to plant it in Garrett's office, but Garrett's beam-up to Voyager had forced her to change her plans. No matter; the device would still be just as useful. She wouldn't be able to see what was going on in astrometrics, but at least she would be able to hear. She set the device to record whatever signal it picked up.

"There's quite a bit of data to sift through, Admiral," she heard an unfamiliar female voice say.

"Anything that will help us?" Garrett's thin, high voice replied.

"I've interfaced the astrometric database with Voyager's logs, and I've found quite a bit that could be useful. For example, this." A console beeped as the female accessed some information. "Commander Chakotay was equipped with a neural transceiver and linked to a rogue Borg hive mind for a period of time. Captain Janeway, Lieutenant Tuvok, and Lieutenant Torres were also assimilated, although they found a way to combat full assimilation."

"We'll need that data, too," said Garrett. "Our method must be unstoppable."

"Yes," the female voice said pensively. "Once they have been changed, we cannot allow anyone to return to their previous state."

"It could be fatal to our project," Garrett agreed. "What about Seven of Nine?" the woman asked. "She could be useful to our purpose."

"Oh," Garrett replied, "she is absolutely essential. Don't worry. Seven of Nine will be dealt with in due course. In the meantime, finish gathering all the data from Voyager that could be useful. Commander, our drones are going to be superior to even anything the Borg could create."

"Yes, Admiral."

Janeway heard the astrometrics doors swish open, indicating Garrett's departure. She deactivated the surveillance device and removed it from the Jefferies Tube door, her heart pounding. She tapped her comm badge and whispered, "Computer, activate transporter program Janeway Pi Omega."

A moment later, she was back in the safety of her temporary quarters on Earth, but there was no sigh of relief to be breathed. She checked her surveillance recorder and listened to the playback, hoping that perhaps she had misunderstood Garrett the first time around. But as she listened, the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach deepened. It sounded as though Garrett was taking Voyager's technology in order to create his own brand of Borg drones.

The next morning, Janeway marched into Admiral Garrett's office, her trump card clutched in her hand. "I'm here to see the admiral," she told his aide, a young Bolian woman who looked to be fresh out of the Academy.

"He's not to be disturbed, Captain. Can I make an appointment for you tomorrow?"

"No, Ensign. I need to see him immediately. It's an urgent matter."

"I'm sorry, Captain. The admiral gave me strict instructions not to disturb him…"

"Is he in his office?" Janeway interrupted the young woman.

"Yes, ma'am, but…"

"Either you call him, Ensign, or I'm going to call security." It was a bluff; no security team in their right mind would enter an admiral's office without orders from a higher authority, but Janeway was willing to bet that the young Bolian aide didn't know that.

"Captain Janeway…"

Janeway leaned over the desk, her face inches from the Bolian. "You tell Admiral Garrett that unless he sees me right now, everyone at Starfleet Command is going to know all about his little 'project'."

The young woman looked confused, and it seemed to Janeway that she honestly didn't know about Garrett's project. The aide touched her terminal to call the admiral, but before she could complete the call, the door to Garrett's office slid open, and he appeared in the doorway. "Captain Janeway," he said, his eyes flashing dangerously, "please come in."

She entered Garrett's office and the door closed behind her. He sat down behind his desk but there was no chair for her, and she was forced to stand. The room was sparsely decorated, designed to be intimidating, she thought, with the large admiral's desk and chair as the centerpiece of the long, narrow room. "So, Captain, just what is it you think you know about my project?"

"I know that you're taking technology and information from Voyager so that you can create some kind of Borg drones of your own."

Garrett laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. "Now that, my dear captain, is ridiculous. If you go around telling the rest of the admiralty that story, they'll laugh in your face."

"I can prove it," Janeway replied. "I don't see how."

She activated the small device in her hand. "Commander," the admiral's voice emerged from the device, "our drones are going to be superior to even anything the Borg could create."

Garrett's eyes narrowed. "I see."

"I recorded your entire conversation," Janeway said.

"I guess I need to speak to my security team about being more thorough."

She held up the device. "I'm prepared to go to the highest levels of Starfleet Command with this unless you stop your 'project' immediately and return all the data and technology you've taken from Voyager."

"Return it to who?" Garrett scoffed. "The technology belongs to Starfleet, and I have full discretion to do whatever I want with it."

"Starfleet would never sanction the creation of drones. What the Borg do to people—wiping out their individuality by force and subjugating them to the will of the collective—is the worst crime imaginable against humanity."

"What if I told you Starfleet Command has sanctioned my project?"

"I wouldn't believe you."

"Then you would be the one in error, Captain."

"Then why all the secrecy? If your project is sanctioned, why act like thieves in the night, sneaking aboard Voyager and copying records in secret?"

"Can you imagine the negative press this would generate?" Garrett asked. "It's a top secret project. Surely you haven't been away from the command structure for so long that you've forgotten that even Starfleet keeps secrets."

"Of course not," Janeway shot back. "But this is wrong. It's evil, and I can't imagine that the rest of the admiralty would support it if they knew what you were doing. And the public outcry against Starfleet would be…"

"They're not going to know," Garrett interrupted her.

"We'll see about that," Janeway replied.

Garrett regarded her for a long moment before saying, "You're serious."

"Absolutely."

"You're not going to play that recording for anyone."

Janeway glared at him. "Try me," she challenged him, and took a step towards the door.

"All right," Garrett replied, leaning back in his chair, "but you'll be the one responsible for the consequences."

She froze. "What consequences?"

"You're on precarious ground, Captain. Of course, initially, you and your crew have been welcomed back to the Alpha Quadrant with open arms. But that could all change at any moment."

"What do you mean?"

"One comm call from me to the right admiral or the right judge, and your precious Maquis would be extradited to Cardassia for their war crimes."

"You don't have that kind of power."

"Oh really?" Garrett asked. "Would you like to test the veracity of your statement?"

"To protect the safety of the Federation? I would."

"But would you sacrifice the lives of so many you hold near and dear in order to test a mere theory? I've already told you my project has been sanctioned by Starfleet. Nothing you do or say will change that. You'll only make life much harder for yourself and everyone you care about."

"I won't succumb to your bribery."

"Think of it as an incentive, Captain. Bribery is such a dirty word." The corners of Garrett's lips curled up into what was supposed to be a smile. "Just imagine," he said, "B'Elanna Torres, Michael Ayala, Ken Dalby, all living out the rest of their days in a Cardassian prison. I understand you've been a guest of the Cardassians yourself, so you know what their hospitality is like. And Chakotay. I know a Cardassian gul who would very much like to get his hands on Chakotay. He might suffer months of torture before finally succumbing to the sweet surrender of death."

"No!"

"Oh, and your precious Borg drone. I won't give Seven of Nine to the Cardassians. But I'm sure I could easily find a judge and jury who would put her in prison for life. After all, as a Borg drone, she was responsible for the assimilation of millions. Icheb, too. He's only a child, you might say, but he, too, could live out the rest of his days in prison."

"No! You can't do that."

"I'm willing to be reasonable, Captain. Things can stay just as they are. B'Elanna Torres can continue her happy marriage and raise her little girl with Tom Paris. Seven of Nine and Icheb can live out their days as free citizens of the Federation. Chakotay will never have to undergo the torture of a Cardassian prison. All you have to do is give me that data chip, and never breathe a word of this to anyone."

Janeway stood, staring at Garrett defiantly, clutching the data chip in her hand. She had a copy of the recording, of course. Garrett would likely assume as much. But copy, or no copy, he was asking for her silence. Was she willing to risk the freedom and safety of everyone she cared about? Garrett had already proven that he had access to extraordinary resources. If he didn't, he wouldn't have been able to gain access to Voyager, nor to the personnel who had been with him the previous night. What if he was telling the truth, and Starfleet really had sanctioned his project? Was it possible that Starfleet had changed so much in the past seven years? And was she willing to stake her friends' lives on her conviction that Starfleet Command would never sanction such a project?
The images Garrett had suggested played out in her mind—Seven and Icheb's freedom taken away, B'Elanna being torn from Tom and Miral and extradited to Cardassia, Chakotay, suffering or even dying in a Cardassian prison. Her grip on the data chip loosened, and she stepped towards Garrett's desk, extending her hand.

Garrett smiled, his yellowed teeth showing. "Do you know what the greatest feeling in the world is, Captain?" he asked. "Power. And the greatest kind of power? Power over another human being, power to determine the course of another person's life. This is the greatest feeling in the world."

"No," Janeway replied as she dropped the data chip on the admiral's desk, "the greatest feeling in the world is freedom, freedom to choose the course of your own life in accordance with your own values. The kind of power you are talking about is coercion, force, and it is evil. You are evil, and someday, your evil will be exposed, and you will suffer the consequences." She paused. "By the way, if anything should happen to me, any kind of convenient accident, proof of your treachery will be transmitted automatically to dozens of reporters and several Starfleet admirals. It will transmit automatically in the event of my death or disappearance. And that is no bluff, Admiral." She turned to walk away, but Garrett's voice stopped her one more time.

"Don't worry. Your life is quite safe as long as you stay silent. Remember, Janeway, if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone—anyone—your precious Seven of Nine will be in jail, and your Maquis crew will suffer the rest of their days in a Cardassian prison. Don't forget that."

"I understand you quite clearly. Good day, Admiral." She left Garrett's office, her feet feeling heavier on each step than the last. She knew what she had to do.

"Your resignation? Captain Janeway, I can't accept this."

"Please, Admiral." She sat across from Admiral Owen Paris, who was looking at a PADD with a carefully crafted letter she had written upon leaving Garrett's office.

Paris rounded his desk and gestured to the sofa in his office. "Join me for some coffee," he suggested.

"Sir, I—"

"Please, Kathryn."

Paris was looking at her with concern, and she relented. "Thank you."

"Do you still take it black?" he asked as he approached the replicator.

"Of course."

He ordered two cups of coffee and handed her one, then joined her on the couch. "Now, tell me what brought this on," he said, gesturing to the PADD.

"I'm not sure there's a place for me in Starfleet anymore," she replied carefully. It wasn't a lie. If Starfleet had sanctioned Garrett's project, it had changed beyond all recognition.

"It just seems like such a sudden decision. Ever since I met you that day in your father's office when you were eight years old, you've believed you belong in Starfleet. Why, I remember you creating Academy entrance exams for your dolls."

Janeway blushed. She had forgotten that she used to do that. "Starfleet has always been my goal. I've always thought it was my home, but now, I'm not sure. I think that maybe Starfleet has changed, but I haven't."

"What makes you think Starfleet has changed, Kathryn?"

She was silent, looking into her coffee cup. Paris placed a hand on her shoulder. "Look," he said, "I know I'm a crotchety old admiral, and maybe I'm not that easy to talk to, but whatever you're thinking about, you can tell me." He paused. "Off the record if necessary."

Janeway took a deep breath. "I appreciate that, sir. I really do. I've always looked up to you, and I've always appreciated you being there for me. You and Admiral Patterson. Especially after my father died. But there's nothing more I can tell you."

"I've always thought of you like a surrogate daughter, Kathryn. I know I was hard on you at the Academy, and when you were serving under my command, but I'm proud of you. I'm proud of what you accomplished in the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway felt a lump form in her throat. She had wanted to hear those words for so long, but now they seemed hollow, empty. "Thank you, sir," she managed.

"Now is the time to move forward in your career, not turn your back on Starfleet."

"I understand how it might look that way, sir," she said, trying to keep her emotions in check, "but I just can't right now."

"You can't," Paris said, leaning back against the sofa. "You can't. And you can't tell me any more." He seemed to be puzzling something out in his mind. "Kathryn," he said suddenly, "does this have anything to do with Admiral Garrett and Voyager's technology?"

She schooled her features, keeping a blank expression on her face, and looked into her coffee mug, Garrett's parting words echoing in her mind, "If you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, your precious Seven of Nine will be in jail, and your Maquis crew will suffer the rest of their days in a Cardassian prison."

"It sounds like you have a lot to figure out," Paris said slowly, seeming to understand her lack of reply. "I'm not going to accept this resignation."

"But, sir—"

He clasped her shoulder again. "You're already on leave. Make it a leave of absence. Take as long as you need. I'll arrange it. If at the end of that time, you still want to resign, I'll accept your resignation without argument. But take this advice, Kathryn. Don't resign today. That way, if you need your Starfleet resources for anything at all, you still have your security clearance and all the resources of Starfleet Command at your disposal. Do you understand?"

She did understand, and she felt so grateful to Paris that she wanted to hug him. Instead she placed her hand over his. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the excellent advice, and I'll be following it."

"Very well, Captain. Your leave of absence commences immediately."

And that was how she came to be standing on the dock of the Janeway family house at Lake George, watching the sun go down. The air was calm, the lake still as glass, showing the watery reflection of the puffy clouds that streaked the sky. In the distance, she heard the melancholy cry of a loon, and she felt a kinship with the bird who swam alone and cried out into the night, waiting for a response that never came.

As the sun sank down past the water's edge, the clouds became gold, and then purple. It looked like someone had taken a paint brush and dipped it in luminescent pink paint, and then made broad diagonal strokes across the sky. The sun disappeared behind the opposite shore of the lake, and the sky turned a deeper purple, and then finally faded into a dark blue. Janeway stood there until the sky turned to black and the twinkling lights of the stars appeared. She looked up at the vast expanse of the night sky and breathed in the cooling air. She took a long, shuddering breath, breathing in the truth that loomed before her. I guess I am alone, after all.