"Ensign, please present your patient," the Doctor said formally to the medical student standing before him.
Ensign Abbey Paris broke out into a grin. "The patient is a sixty-five-year-old human male who came in for his annual flight physical. Physical examination is normal, with the exception of some correctable vision loss, most likely related to age."
"Hey, I heard that!" Captain Tom Paris complained from the examining table.
"Mr. Paris, please be quiet as I work with my medical student," the Doctor scolded lightly. "Please continue, Ensign."
"With the vision correction, the patient is qualified to remain on flight status," Abbey finished.
"Very well. Would you like to perform the procedure, or should I do it?" the Doctor asked.
"No offense, Abbey, but I'd feel more comfortable with the Doctor taking the lead on this one," Captain Paris interjected.
The EMH frowned at the words. "It is a simple procedure, Mr. Paris, one that your daughter has performed successfully many times. She is more than qualified to do it herself."
"It's okay, Doc, I'm fine letting you do it. My father obviously doesn't have any confidence in my medical abilities," Ensign Paris said with a grin.
"It's not that, Abbey," Paris protested. "It's just, well, you're my daughter, not my doctor."
"I know. I understand. You'll put your pilots, the people actually fighting in combat, in my care, but you don't trust me enough to fix your vision to the point that will allow you to sit at a desk as you command them. It makes perfect sense."
Captain Paris groaned. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"
"Mr. Paris, when was the last time you won an argument against any of the women in your family?" the Doctor asked as he finished the procedure. "You're as good as new, and free to go. Give B'Elanna my best." He turned to Ensign Paris. "Good job today, Ms. Paris. Your flight surgeon training has obviously paid off. I'll see you tomorrow, 0800 hours. We'll be going over the A-Z's of frontal lobe headaches."
"I can hardly wait," Abbey replied, barely able to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "Good night, Doctor."
---
Captain and Ensign Paris decided to enjoy the warm spring air and walk home from Starfleet Medical. It gave them a chance to talk alone, something they hadn't done in awhile. "I really didn't mean to be insulting about the vision correction," Tom said.
Abbey grinned. "Relax, Dad, I really wasn't offended. I know I'm still a medical student, and I know I'm still your daughter. If I ever have a kid who becomes a doctor, I don't think I'd want him or her to treat me, either. I was just joking with you."
"So we're okay?"
She grinned again. "When have we not been okay?"
He laughed. "What, you don't remember your whole teenage years?" After a few minutes of walking in silence, he said, "We haven't seen you in awhile."
She made a face. "I know. Things have been hectic, trying to finish up this last rotation with the Doctor—who is not the easiest preceptor, as I'm sure you remember. I'll also trying to get everything settled before moving away, and Miral has been checking out apartments for me at Utopia Planitia… it's been busy."
"You don't seem all that excited about going out to Mars Station after graduation," her father observed.
"Oh, I am," Abbey countered, trying to sound enthusiastic. "It's a great opportunity—I'll be able to serve as a flight surgeon while also doing research on enhancing the safety of the new ships. And I'll be close to Miral, and only a few hours away from you and Mom."
"But it's not what you wanted," Tom finished for her.
She sighed. "I always hoped I'd be on a ship. After all, I grew up with stories of life on Voyager and what that was like. I don't want to be gone without any contact with Earth for seven years; I'm not saying that. But it would be so exciting and so new every day. I'm afraid I'm going to get bored being in the same place all the time."
"Your posting at Utopia Planitia isn't permanent, Abbey. You'll have plenty of time for serving aboard ships later in your career. Besides, I thought the station postings were the most coveted among recent Starfleet Medical Academy grads. You're the envy of most of your classmates."
"Most of my classmates weren't raised by a group of senior officers from Voyager," she pointed out. They walked in silence for a few more minutes, while Tom thought about what his daughter wanted, and how much he wanted to protect her from it, from everything. From the moment they learned that B'Elanna was pregnant again—with twins, no less, a physiological impossibility in full-blooded Klingons—all he wanted was for her to be safe and healthy. The pregnancy was a complicated one, and while Joe had been born with relatively few problems, nobody had been sure that Abbey would make it. It was four months in the neonatal unit at Starfleet Medical before they got to take her home for the first time. She had been--and still was--unusually small and fair for someone with Klingon blood, but she been able to not only keep up with other kids her age but often surpass them.
Then, only months before her graduation from Starfleet Academy, she was competing in her final gymnastics championship when Earth was attacked by the Nygleians, starting the war they were still fighting. She had been in a coma for two weeks, and was still severely injured after she woke up. Her gymnastics career was over; she even had to relearn how to walk, and the physical injuries she sustained weren't her only problems. As if losing the way she had distinguished herself since was a kid wasn't enough, she lost her fiancée, her cousin, her closest aunt and childhood confidant. Her parents and counselors tried to get her to take some time off before officially beginning her Starfleet career, but she decided to go on to the Medical Academy, insisting that the four more years of school was rest enough. Four years later, she considered herself to be as recovered as she'd ever be, and both Tom and B'Elanna had to agree that she was finally opening up and more closely resembling the person she had been before the attack. When the Doctor told them a few months ago that he was recommending her for a position at Utopia Planitia, they almost saw it as getting their youngest daughter back. Tom knew on an intellectual level that she wasn't his little girl anymore and that at twenty-five-years-old—three years older than B'Elanna was when they were stranded in the Delta quadrant—she was capable of taking care of herself, but he wasn't quite capable of letting go. He wanted her to be happy, but more than anything, he wanted her to be safe.
---
"Dinner was delicious, B'Elanna. Thanks," Admiral Janeway said as Tom began clearing the dishes.
"Oh, don't thank me. The replicator did all the work," Torres replied. "And it's no trouble to set an extra place for you whenever you want."
"I'll have to take you up on that in the future." She paused for a minute. "Unfortunately, I didn't just come tonight to get caught up." She noticed a look pass between Captains Paris and Torres and paused. "Was it something I said?"
Tom chuckled softly. "Well, honestly, we were waiting for the other shoe to fall. There haven't been many times that you've come to visit when you didn't need something or need to tell us something, and we didn't expect tonight to be any different."
She shook her head slowly with a smile on her face. "You know me too well. This time, though, it's not anything I need from either of you. It's for Abbey."
"Well, that's an interesting change," Abbey said with a smile. "I'm all ears, Admiral."
"As I'm sure you're all aware, we're always looking into new ways to fight and win battles. Admiral Jacobson, one of the military history professors at the Academy, suggested taking a page from the 20th century and using what he called 'aircraft carriers,'" Janeway began.
"Oh, I remember learning about that," Captain Paris interrupted. "They served as floating runways, so the fighter planes could take off and land at sea."
"That's right. With our new fleet of single-pilot fighter shuttles, we needed a way to deliver them to battle, and this is it. Harry is going to be commanding the U.S.S. James T. Kirk, the first of what we're hoping will be several of these carriers."
"Harry's taking command?" Torres asked. She turned to her husband. "Has he said anything to you about this?"
"No," he replied, just as confused. "I thought, after the attack, that he wasn't going to be going back to space. And besides, he's never commanded a ship, just a station."
"He didn't want to take it," the admiral replied. "But I asked him to reconsider. I told him that I didn't want a ship commander on the Kirk, I wanted a station commander; it's so large it's more a mobile station than a ship. So I asked him to take command, but I wasn't going to order him to do it, it had to be his decision. He thought about it for awhile, and decided to do it. He just confirmed a few weeks ago."
"You haven't gotten to the part where it concerns me yet," Abbey pointed out.
"I was just about to. The Kirk represents an experiment in military tactics on many levels, only one of which is the transportation of the single-pilot fighters. We are also in communication with the head of the Bajoran Militia regarding a partnership of sorts, with one of their ground infantry units stationed aboard the Kirk for ground warfare, which Starfleet has been sadly unprepared and undertrained for. Also, in efforts to increase continuity, one of the stipulations of serving aboard the Kirk is that both the senior officers—lieutenant commanders and above—as well as the support officers, such as physicians, must agree to serve aboard for a minimum of four years. One of the junior flight surgeons just found out that his wife is pregnant and asked to be relieved of his contract. There's now an opening for a flight surgeon, and if you're interested, Ensign, it's yours. I know it's not a prestigious as your current posting at Utopia Planitia, so I'll understand if you turn it down, but I thought you should know."
Abbey turned to her parents, who both looked surprised. She knew they wanted her to turn the offer down, to take the posting on Mars, but the idea of getting away from the Sol system could be everything she needed. "Four years?" she asked the admiral. "That doesn't seem so bad, since the minimum contract for doctors on vessels is three years." She turned back to her parents. "I know you want me to go to Utopia Planitia. I know you're still worried about me. But this is my life, and my decision. I didn't decide to go into Starfleet to keep my feet on the ground. I've always wanted to go into space, you know that. And you don't need to worry about me. After all, I'll be under Harry's command, and you know he'll do everything in his power to keep me safe." She turned back to the admiral. "I'll take it, Admiral. I don't even need to think about it. When do I leave?"