SINNERS AND SAINTS
By Rocky

County Cook, Ireland

The comm chimed.

Anne glared at the deceptively innocent-looking piece of equipment. It seemed like her entire morning had consisted of one interruption after another. Every time she sat down to do something constructive-like prepare her lecture notes for her week's classes-another distraction arose. First there'd been the hustle of getting the boys off to school, amid a frantic search for missing homework PADDS and mislaid sports equipment. Then her mother-in-law had called, followed by her mother, sister and cousin in short order. Then the recycler had backed up for the third time in two days, and the quick 'fix' Joe had written her about 3 months ago no longer appeared to be effective, necessitating a call to the repairman.

And now the bloody comm unit was chiming again. She considered ignoring it, but figured she might as well acknowledge that her morning was already shot.

"Yes, what do you want?" she said curtly, as the image of a dark-haired man appeared.

"And hello to you, too," said Mitch Dalby in amusement.

"Mitch!" Anne said, somewhat abashed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so-I've just been having one of those days."

"If now is a bad time, I can always call back later," he offered.

"No, no, it's all right." She took a deep breath. "Actually, I'm glad you called-I was wondering how things were going at your end, in terms of research for the newsletter. Kaylyn said the other day that she'd almost finished putting together the photos for our inaugural issue."

"That's what I'm calling about, actually," Mitch said, his grin vanishing. "I've run into some problems."

"Problems?" Anne echoed, and sat back in dismay. She'd asked Mitch to contact the Starfleet Department of News & Information for basic information on Voyager, current ship's position and distance from the Alpha Quadrant, latest updates and so on-above and beyond what had already appeared on the newsvids. "What happened?"

"As soon as I started making inquiries, I was told that the information I had requested was classified and required a high level security clearance for access." He smiled sardonically. "Which of course, as a former convicted terrorist and felon, I can't even dream of attaining."

She didn't miss the bitter note in his voice nor the downward twist to his mouth. The Maquis had been very nearly wiped out at the hands of the Jem'Hadar during the war; the only survivors had been those, like Mitch, who had been in prison. True, they had been released at the war's end, but no one had ever acknowledged that their fears about the Cardassian treaty had borne fruit, nor had any official apology or offer of restitution been made for their losses. Anne didn't honestly know how she felt about their situation; she could understand the issue from Starfleet's perspective though she tended toward natural sympathy for the Maquis. In general, she felt it best not to bring it up in conversation.

So instead she said, "Have you tried speaking to Commander Craig? He's the PR liaison over at the Pathfinder project. Maybe he can be of help."

"I'm way ahead of you," Mitch replied. "I already spoke to Craig, numerous times over the past two weeks."

"And was he helpful?"

Mitch shook his head. "No, he wasn't."

"He wasn't?" Anne was surprised. "You mean he couldn't give you any additional information?"

"Either couldn't or wouldn't. He said, and I quote, 'all pertinent information for public consumption has already been made available via the newsvids. We have nothing further to add at this time.'"

"But that's ridiculous!" Anne said. "There's a lot of news that never even makes it to the airwaves! I can mention at least 3 or 4 items I know through Joe's letters that I would not have known about if I were part of the general public."

"Maybe they figure the general public isn't interested in the details." Mitch shrugged. "I'm an exception, Anne."

"What are you talking about? You're a Voyager family member!"

"Not any longer."

Anne hesitated, aware she was embarking on yet another sensitive issue. "I thought you were corresponding with Mariah Henley."

"Just once. After Ken-after he was lost. She wrote to tell me personally, didn't want me just hearing it from some stranger in a Starfleet uniform." He was quiet for a moment, then looked her straight in the eye. "But that was it. Mariah and I have no other connection-we'd both moved on a long time ago." He cleared his throat. "Regardless, I'm very grateful to you and to the 'network' for keeping me informed, telling me things I wouldn't know otherwise. My brother may be gone, but I still feel a basic connection to many of the people on Voyager. I'm still concerned about their welfare."

"As well you should be," Anne responded. "Well, perhaps it wasn't a very good idea in the first place to approach Starfleet, if it seems that we as family members know more than they're willing to say on the record. Why, I haven't even seen an official announcement about the slipstream drive..." She brought herself up short.

"You've got a point there," Mitch said. "You'd think they would be trumpeting that news from the rooftops. But they haven't mentioned it at all. I wonder why." He frowned.

"It's probably not important." She shook herself. "All right, how about we switch jobs-you can finish going through the family lists and gathering background notes, and I'll give a call to Commander Craig."

"Suits me just fine. But why go back to Craig-why not just go directly to Admiral Paris? He's the head of Pathfinder, after all."

"I suppose I could, although I really wouldn't want to bother him..." Anne said hesitantly.

"Didn't you speak with him before?" Mitch asked curiously. "I thought you'd said Paris had contacted you once or twice previously."

"It was his wife, Alicia, I spoke to," she explained. "Not the Admiral."

"Well, all I can say is, no matter which of the brass you talk to, you'll probably have better luck than I would in finding anything out," Mitch said.

"I'm willing to do your job for you, Mr. Dalby, but I'm not letting you off the hook," Anne said with mock sternness, hoping to distract him.

"Talking to the families?" He laughed. "That's easy."

"Let's hope you still say that after talking to Mrs. Kim," Anne said ruefully. "A lovely woman, don't get me wrong. She means very well, but oh, she can go on and on...to sit and listen to her for very long would try the patience of a saint."

Mitch rolled his eyes. "That's more your job description than mine, Anne-I'm one of the sinners, remember?"

"Not in my book," she said firmly.

After an awkward pause, he said, "Well, I've intruded on your day too much already. I'll check in with you toward the end of the week and let you know what I've come up with."

"Good. It was nice talking to you, Mitch."

"Bye."

Anne closed the connection and turned back to her desk. Finally, she would be able to get some work done! And to her gratification, she was able to do just that for the next twenty minutes.

A quick glance at the chrono warned her that she would have to get going if she wanted a chance to stop at the University library before her first class was scheduled to begin. She had just taken a few steps toward the stairs when the doorbell rang. She turned to open it and stopped in surprise.

Admiral Paris stood on the doorstep.

"I'm sorry for just dropping in on you unannounced, Mrs. Carey," he said with a slight smile. "But I was wondering if I might speak with you for a few minutes?"

Anne somehow managed to say, "Of course, Admiral. Please, come right in." She ushered him into the living room, noting to her dismay that her PADDS lay scattered all over the coffee table and a few of the chairs, and a pile of jackets and boots were in an untidy heap in the corner. "Please, forgive the mess," she murmured. "The house usually isn't so, uh-"

Again, he gave her that slight smile. "I remember what it's like having young children. Don't worry about it, Mrs. Carey. I didn't exactly give you any advance warning." He seated himself on the couch and looked at her expectantly.

Anne was still getting over her shock that the Admiral had come all the way to Ireland to meet with her. She had only met him in person once before, shortly after the beginning of the Pathfinder project, and she still didn't feel entirely comfortable around him. She certainly never expected him to be sitting in her living room as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

A sudden thought made her heart leap into her throat. "There's something wrong, isn't there? That's why you're here. You've gotten word about Joe, that he's-" She couldn't bring herself to finish.

Paris half rose from his seat, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture. "No, no, nothing like that. I'm not here to deliver any bad news." He smiled reassuringly. "But as I said, I would like to speak with you."

Anne nodded numbly. Of course, she reminded herself, it was still another few weeks to go until the next datastream. There was no way the Admiral would have somehow heard anything about Voyager. She forced herself to smile. "May I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee would be fine, thank you. Black."

A few minutes later, Anne handed him a steaming mug of coffee and sat down opposite him. She cradled a cup of tea; its warmth was soothing, and holding the cup gave her something to do with her hands. In her absence, the Admiral had been examining the holophotos on the mantle. "You have a lovely family, Mrs. Carey."

"Thank you." She took a sip of her tea. For all that he had traveled so far to see her, he didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry to get to the point.

"My wife told me about the newsletter you're planning," he said at last. "I think it's a very good idea. And it will make an excellent start."

Anne said, puzzled, "What do you mean by 'a start?'"

Paris looked down into the depths of his mug for a moment. "As important as it is to share information among the families, it's also important that there be a voice heard speaking publicly on behalf of Voyager."

"Isn't that Starfleet's job?"

"Yes, of course, but they represent Voyager the vessel, the Starfleet institution. It's not a bad idea to remind the public of the individuals who make up that entity *we* refer to as Voyager." His eyes met hers. "Ordinary people who live and breathe, laugh and cry, and hope and dream, just like everyone else."

"It sounds like you expect more from the Voyager Families Association than just a newsletter," Anne said carefully.

Paris put his mug down, leaned forward, and clasped his hands together. "I do, because I think under the right leadership, your organization could fill a very valuable role. Think of it as playing Voyager's advocate in the eyes of the public."

Anne got up and walked toward the window. The top of the cathedral's bell tower was just visible. As always, she found the sight comforting. "Up till now we haven't organized anything more complicated than a picnic."

"I have every confidence in your abilities."

She reached up and smoothed her hand over her hair, the way she always did when she was thinking. "Why are you turning to me?"

"I think it would be best if this came from one of the family members."

She shook her head impatiently. "I understand that. No, what I'm asking is, why me? My husband is an assistant engineer aboard Voyager. Why not ask a relative of one of the senior officers?"

The Admiral's gaze didn't waver. "Rank has nothing to do with it. We need someone with good interpersonal skills, who knows how to get her point across. Someone who has the ability to forge the necessary networks, and is willing to devote the time and energy to it." He smiled. "And you've already demonstrated a lot of those characteristics."

She slowly nodded.

He rose to his feet. "In order to be as effective as possible, to rally as much support as you can to your cause, one of the first things you should do is to make yourselves and your efforts noticeable. Be sure to send a copy of your newsletter to every major media outlet. Not just the first issue, but every subsequent one as well. Notify them the next time you have an event or get together. Try and arrange a meeting, even a photo-op, with some of the higher profile politicians." He smiled briefly. "I don't imagine that will be too difficult-they'll be eager to bask in some of Voyager's reflected glory as well." He walked to the door, then paused. Without turning around, he said, "It's important to let in the light as much as possible, in order to discourage the sort of thing that best flourishes in the dark."

Anne stood there for a long time after he left, staring at the closed door. Myriad thoughts went through her mind, adding up to a pattern she first shied away from, but then gradually accepted. She moved over to the comm unit, sat down, and punched in the combination with a steady hand.

"Hello, Kaylyn," she said to the woman who answered.

"Anne? What's going on?" Kaylyn said instantly.

"There have been some new developments."

Kaylyn looked concerned. "And?"

"Meet me in San Francisco tomorrow afternoon."

Act 3

San Francisco

"Before we get started today," Hayes said, looking around the room, "I want to make one thing perfectly clear. The last time we met, the discussion got rather heated and tempers were lost or nearly so. It was a less than productive session, to put it mildly. I don't want a repeat of that now. Especially as we're going to be touching upon some very sensitive issues."

"More sensitive than the issue of the Maquis?" said Teller rhetorically.

Hayes took her statement at face value. "Yes. Discussing possible improprieties by a Starfleet captain in the course of duty is probably the most sensitive issue we're going to have to deal with." He looked around once more. "All right, let's get started."

"The logical place to begin," said Necheyev quickly, before Cobum could start, "is with Janeway's first major decision in the Delta Quadrant-choosing to destroy the Caretaker's Array. That was a clear violation of the Prime Directive."

"Oh, do you really think so?" asked Cobum. "I can point you to other instances where I think Janeway came a great deal closer to violating General Order 001. As for the destruction of the Array-that's more of an issue of 'reckless endangerment': deliberately stranding her ship in the Delta Quadrant."

Necheyev turned to her ever present PADD. "These are direct quotes from Janeway's own logs; her tactical officer, Commander Tuvok, argued against the destruction, specifically bringing up the Prime Directive. Janeway recorded their conversation verbatim:

"Tuvok: any action you take to save the Ocampa will affect the balance of power in this sector, which would be in violation of the Prime Directive.

"Janeway: 'Would it? We didn't ask to be involved, but we already are. I won't bargain away the lives of the Ocampa for a way to get Voyager home.'"

Having finished her recital, Necheyev leaned back confidently in her seat. As if by chance, her gaze rested on Teller's face.

The older woman smiled briefly. "Surely you can't fault Janeway for this humanitarian decision to save an entire people from death." She looked around the conference table and saw only the cold hard glitter of logic in their eyes. "Or perhaps my estimation of your empathy is overstated."

"It seems obvious to me that Janeway destroyed the Array so the Kazon wouldn't get their hands on the advanced technology," said Ross, shifting slightly in his chair. Teller started, then smiled, seeing where he was going with this argument. He continued, "It's safe to say that if Voyager hadn't been involved in the first place, the Caretaker would have destroyed his Array himself, thereby preventing the Kazon from accessing it. Janeway's actions therefore served to maintain the balance of power in the sector, not alter it."

"This is one of those decisions you have to trust the captain in the field to make, using his or her b-b-best judgment," added Gelb. "Not the admirals sitting b-b-back home comfortably, and hearing about it after the fact."

"But this brings up other questionable decisions that Janeway has made," said Blanc stiffly. "Decisions in which there is no question that she violated Starfleet directives."

"Before we get into that, perhaps we should look at the positive outcomes that resulted from many of Janeway's decisions," countered Teller.

"Have you been appointed the captain's chief cheerleader, Admiral?" asked Necheyev in a voice dripping with sarcasm.