Stardate 87557.6
San Francisco, Earth

Captain Harry Kim's personal log, Stardate 87557.6:

The last time this apartment was this empty, I was looking at it for the first time, moments after signing the contract. It has a nice view of the San Francisco Bay, but I couldn't care less about any of that. It was close to Starfleet Headquarters and had no painful memories of the house in Texas; that was all I needed in a place to live. Now, the boxes are packed again, everything that won't fit in my new quarters on the Kirk in storage. Maybe someday I'll get it out again.

Today is the day. In just a few minutes, some newly-minted Starfleet ensign is going to hit the announcer chime to tell me that it's time to leave for the ship. My first starship command; I don't know if it counts, though. Admiral Janeway referred to it as more of a station than a ship due to its size and function. A ship is a ship, though, and there was a point in my life that I would have considered this day to be the day I've always wanted. Ever since I opened the communication from Starfleet Academy telling me that I had been accepted to the Class of 2371, I imagined the day I would take my first ship's command, and I never stopped imagining it. I never thought it would be like this.

Navi and I used to talk about this. We would stay awake planning our voyages through the galaxy, me in the captain's chair and her down in sickbay serving as the CMO. Christopher would come visit us on holiday and school vacations. We'd be that happy Starfleet family that everyone laughs about.

I'm a little bit nervous—okay, I can practically hear Navi laughing at the understatement. I'm scared half to death. It's been so long since I've even been in space, since I've commanded anybody in a life-or-death situation, and I'm afraid that I won't remember how, that I won't be able to make the important decisions fast enough. The last time I tried—the last time I tried, I made the wrong one, and Navi and Christopher and three million other people died because of it. Part of me, maybe the largest part, wants to tell Admiral Janeway that she made the wrong decision asking me to take command. I could never do that, though; she was my first commander, and I think I'll always end up doing everything she asks.

*Beep beep.*

Captain Harry Kim sighed at the door announcer. "Computer, end log," he ordered. "Enter."

To his surprise, the person standing there wasn't the ensign shuttle pilot he expected. "Tom," he greeted his old friend. "What are you doing here?"

Captain Tom Paris grinned, satisfied at his ability to still surprise Kim. "I'm here to take you to Mars Station," he replied matter-of-factly.

"I was told to expect an Ensign Gerath."

Paris' grin widened. "Well, instead of a bright green—literally, this time—newly-minted Starfleet ensign, you have the commanding officer of all piloting activity in the Sol system to take you to your first command." His grin faded slightly and he shrugged a shoulder. "I know I'm not a beautiful Betazoid/Vulcan/human hybrid physician, but I just thought having family around today would be good for you."

He nodded his understanding as he grabbed his one duffle bag. "Sure, Tom, but technically, are you still family?"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Paris said in the same tone he used years before on Voyager. "When are you going to learn? You were family even before you married my sister-in-law. Half-sister-in-law? Guess it doesn't make any difference. Now let's get going. The girls are going to be meeting us there."

Their walk to the shuttle hangar took them through Starfleet Academy, where two captains in bright red shirts would always be enough to get the attention of the throngs of cadets making their ways around the Academy grounds. Knowing that there were too many young men and women snapping to attention to tell each of them to stand at ease, the captains merely nodded as they passed through.

Paris turned his head to see his old friend studying a group of young plebes—first year cadets still going through their orientation sessions—with a sad look on his face. "You okay, buddy?" he asked softly.

Kim nodded toward the group of plebes. "Christopher would have been a plebe this year," he replied.

Paris shook his head slightly. "You don't know that. You don't know if he would have even wanted to go into Starfleet. You can't keep imagining everything the way you think it would be, or you'd find yourself living a life of 'what ifs'."

"He wanted to go into Starfleet," Kim stubbornly insisted. "That was all he could talk about."

"He was thirteen, Harry. Every thirteen-year-old boy wants to go into Starfleet. Maybe he would have decided to focus on his music instead; we all know he was talented enough to make a career out of it. Or maybe he would have taken after his mother and joined early. After all, she was only sixteen when she started at the Academy." His voice softened. "My point, Harry, is that you can't go beating yourself up every time you see or hear or think of something that reminds you of Navi and Christopher. You'll drive yourself insane."

They walked in silence for the rest of the way to the hangar. As he tossed his duffle into the rear storage compartment, Kim said, "It's my fault, you know."

Paris snorted as he started up the engines. "My daughter says the same thing," he commented, being flip. "It's going to be great, you and Abbey on the ship together, both thinking that you're to blame for the Nygleian war. Maybe this feeling of guilt is contagious, and by the end of this mission, you'll have every single crewmember on the Kirk convinced that it's all their fault."

Kim shook his head. "I was the one in command, Tom. When that Nygleian ship crossed by DS4, I was the station commander who let them get by. If I had stopped them—"

"You followed protocol, Harry," Paris said forcefully. "You couldn't have known what they were going to do. Hell, by your logic, there are a thousand people who are to blame for the attacks. There were patrolling ships and security net monitors, and none of them picked up anything out of the ordinary. Maybe they should have stopped that Nygleian ship. Maybe the buildings on Earth should have built to withstand that kind of attack. Maybe I should have noticed an unknown ship entering the system and sent out ships to rendezvous. Maybe we all should have been able to see this coming. The fact is, Harry, nobody knew a damned thing was wrong until two minutes after the last plasma charge detonated. There's nothing you or anybody else could have done to prevent it."

Neither man said another word until they docked at Mars Station.