Chapter 2
Settling In

Voyager Headquarters: Training Facility

The corridor was crowded with students heading in both directions, rushing to their next class; they all froze at the telltale whistling sound, loud in the confined space. All eyes turned to the ceiling, looking for the spot of black that would be the first indication of an opening time portal. "Over here!" one student called, and those close to her all scrambled to create a clear space for the incoming Voyager.

Make that Voyagers, they amended as two pairs of feet came through the enlarging hole. But that one was just a kid!

Bogg immediately recognized his surroundings, but why had the Omni dropped them in the middle of the Voyager school? With one of them injured, they should have landed in Medical. Then he realized that the system probably wasn't reading Jeffrey, since he hadn't yet been scanned into it. For the first time, he regretted leaving in such a hurry after the trial.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a loud "ow!" from the smaller heap beside him. "You okay, kid?"

"I don't know," Jeffrey admitted, his arms tightly wrapped around himself. "I think I felt something snap."

Bogg turned to check him over once more, but was interrupted by a familiar strident female voice shouting commandingly, "All right, clear the hall!" The student Voyagers reluctantly began to move again, though they were careful to leave room around the pair still sitting on the floor where they had landed.

A woman not much taller than Jeffrey shouldered her way through the tide of bodies and halted before them. Her solid, hefty frame lent a formidable appearance to the fortyish brunette, despite her small size. Dark eyes snapping, she demanded, "And what's this? On your feet, both of you. And you know this area's off limits to pages," she added to Jeffrey, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him up. His cry of pain startled her into letting go as the man she'd mistaken for a student shot to his feet and got between her and the boy. "Keep your hands off him, Dragon Lady!" he snapped. "Can't you see he's hurt?"

At the sound of the nickname, she froze. No current student would dare call her that to her face, but she knew of at least two former ones who would, and she suddenly recognized him. Then she looked carefully at the boy with him and was mortified to realize that his outburst was justified. His arms were a mass of bruises, and his left eye was swollen shut, with a truly magnificent shiner darkening that whole side of his face. How could she have missed that? "I am so sorry," she said. "It was a terrible mistake, and there's no excuse for it."

It would be a long time—if ever—before the kid would learn of the nightmares he was having over the incident; Bogg's still-raw nerves would not let him be mollified. "You're darn right, there isn't," he growled.

"Bogg!" Jeffrey called sharply; when there was no response, mischief danced in his eyes despite his pain as he snapped, "Down, Bogg!"

That got a reaction; the older Voyager whirled and turned that icy glare on him. "Do I look like a dog to you?" he snarled.

"No, but I didn't think you really wanted to attack a lady," Jeffrey replied, with very slight emphasis on the word.

He winced as that emphasis registered, and the last of the fight drained out of him. He knows me too well, he thought fondly, even as he let out an embarrassed chuckle. "I'm sorry, Professor Franklin; I'm afraid I lost it for a minute there," he said.

"That's quite all right; all children should have such protectors. Bad landing?" she added as she watched him gently probe Jeffrey's sides.

"No worse than usual," he replied, then grimaced when the boy let out a sharp hiss. "Yeah, you've cracked at least one, maybe two," Bogg told him, then went on to Franklin, "He was already injured. My guess is he had a couple of hairline fractures, and this last landing was just one jolt too many."

"What happened?" she asked, keeping to herself the thought that perhaps Will wasn't anthropomorphizing as much as she'd suspected when he complained that the Core had a warped sense of humor. It was an artificial intelligence, after all, and if dropping an injured Voyager this far from Medical wasn't warped, she didn't know what was.

"Some locals came after Jeff and me because we helped Mary Bethune with her school."

"Fatherless bigots," Franklin spat, then scrutinized Jeffrey in concern. "Kids may be resilient, but I don't like what this one's color is doing. There's no way you're making him walk all the way to Medical. My office is right here; you can wait there while I call for transport." Jeffrey opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a sound, she cut him off. "No arguments, Voyager Jones. Now march!" she ordered, pointing imperiously toward her office.

Bogg shrugged helplessly and jerked his head minutely in that direction. "And that's why she's called the Dragon Lady," he murmured as they went inside.

They found themselves in an outer office furnished in something that didn't quite resemble a Victorian combination office/sitting room. A matching oak filing cabinet and roll-top desk—the latter currently vacant—were in the corner next to the door to the inner office; the rest of the room was taken up by a leather sofa and several matching chairs. A colorful afghan was draped over the back of the sofa, and a vase of silk flowers graced the coffee table. Bogg helped Jeff lie down on the couch and put the afghan over him, his concern stepping up several notches as he observed for himself the pasty hue the kid's face had assumed. It hadn't yet affected his alertness, however; he watched intently as Franklin produced from a pocket something that looked like a Star Trek communicator, flipped it open, punched a few buttons, and held it up to her ear.

The boy's jaw dropped. "Is that a telephone?" he demanded incredulously, making Bogg grin at the thought of all the wonders the kid was going to see here, things that hadn't existed yet even in 1982.

"You have a good touch, Voyager Bogg," Dr. Amy Bartlett complimented him as she completed Jeffrey's examination. "I'll know more once we get some x-rays, but he definitely has one fractured rib and probably a second. I'm also a little concerned about that shiner; as massive as it is, he could have a fractured cheekbone. He's not showing any signs of it, but I'm ordering some facial x-rays to make sure. We'll go ahead and run the full spectrum of blood tests while we're at it, including those for Locator and telemetry data; that'll complete his initial physical exam."

Bogg nodded. "I'll be coming due for my annual soon, so I might as well schedule it while he's off getting all that done."

"Good idea. I'll notify them to have counselors review your Omni's memory unit in preparation for both your sessions."

Upon hearing this, the boy made a face. "Do I have to?" he groaned.

"It's standard procedure, kid. I have to see one, too," Bogg told him. "Every year."

Dr. Bartlett smiled at the boy. "I think you'll find our counselors are quite different from the ones you knew at home." She turned back to Bogg. "Since he's also showing signs of mild shock, I'd like to keep him overnight for observation. He's in no condition for field duty and won't be for six to eight weeks, so you may as well arrange for quarters while he's having his x-rays done. Someone will be here soon to draw blood and take him to Radiology."

"Bet you never expected a vacation to be that long," Jeffrey quipped after the doctor had left.

"If I did, you know I'd be hoping for better circumstances," Bogg grinned back.

Though it seemed to Jeffrey that things happened much faster, it was another hour or so before he was settled in a room, his face pronounced free of fractures, but his chest tightly wrapped. Aside from having to adjust to the constricting bandages, he was considerably more comfortable and soon drifted off to sleep. Bogg settled himself in the recliner furnished for visitors and dozed on and off until Jeffrey awoke some time later, asking for something to eat. He levered himself out of the chair and headed toward the door to ask at the nurses' desk, but before he reached said door, there was a perfunctory knock, and it swung open as the visitor poked his head in. "Well, yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum, if it isn't our favorite pirate!" he grinned. "Phin, how are ya?"

Bogg's face lit up. "Will!" he cried happily, and the two men collided in the embrace of close friends who hadn't seen each other in far too long. "You're never going to let me hear the end of that, are you, jarhead?"

"Watch it, squid," Will shot back in mock warning, then said, "I came over as soon as Carrie Franklin told me you'd come in. She said the kid was hurt; nothing too serious, I hope."

Bogg gave him a brief summary of their last assignment; as they talked, Jeffrey took a closer look at Will. He wore camouflage fatigues in desert colors, a pattern that had been brand-new in 1982; all insignia had been removed, leaving behind only black Velcro patches where they should have been. He had brown hair and eyes, and features that looked oddly familiar, but the boy couldn't place him.

Will turned to him with a grin. "Will Parker, temporal engineer and resident bookie," he introduced himself. "You're taking good care of this big ox of a Voyager, I hope."

"Are you kidding? I don't dare do anything else!" Jeffrey replied with a wicked grin. "Decent guardians aren't exactly a dime a dozen, you know!"

"Oh, I hear ya!" Will laughed as Bogg tried to decide if he'd just been praised or insulted. The ex-Marine gently turned Jeffrey's head for a better look at the left side of his face, then let out a whistle. "Man, that's a beaut! Did you get the number of the truck?" Then he noticed the intent way Jeff was looking at him. "What?" he asked.

"You look familiar, that's all," the boy replied. "Did you live in New York?"

"Out on the Island(1), actually, but considering I wasn't born until '85, we wouldn't even have met in passing," Will told him and added, "and I've never been in the field except for an occasional vacation in a green zone."

"That's it!" Bogg put in as the phrase "in the field" triggered a memory. "Jeff, remember the time we hit three railroad legends in a row?"

"Nicky Cole!" Jeffrey realized.

Will blinked. "Great Train Wreck of 1856?" he asked.

"Yeah; the kid had wedged himself under a bench and passed out from the heat in the car. It was Jeff who pried him loose and got him out of there."

"That was you?" Will demanded incredulously. "He was my four-times-great grandfather. The whole incident made him a bit of a family legend, so much so that I didn't want to let go of the name when I was adopted."

"What did you do?" Jeffrey asked.

"Kept it as my middle name." Jeffrey looked thoughtful as Will went on, "Picked up another family legend, too; turned out my adoptive father was descended from George Parker."

"The con man?"

"The very same." With a wink, he added in a sly stage-whisper, "Want to buy a bridge?"

Both of them laughed at that, then Bogg said, "You're the…techno-geek; maybe you can explain something for me." There was a barely perceptible pause as he tried to recall some of Will's colorful slang. "Right after we landed in Florida, another Voyager dropped in. We weren't in trouble; we didn't even know what our assignment was yet."

There were two hard chairs in the room in addition to the recliner; Will sat in one of them and propped his feet up on the other. 'Sharon Fields, wasn't it?" At Bogg's nod, he went on, "She came back here a few days ago, asking to speak to the Council. Nobody knows what she told them, but after that, they sent a squad of Council Aides into the field."

"She may have told them where Drake was," Bogg told him. "She ran into him when she went back into the field after her last stay in Medical."

"She was probably royally torqued off when she heard the truth; they were pretty good friends," Will remarked.

"They were more than just friends; she told me he was her boyfriend."

Jeffrey's jaw dropped. "You gotta be kiddin' me! She told us she heard all about the trial!"

"Remember when I went to talk to her after you were hurt? She told me then. Yeah, she heard the talk, and knew he'd left Headquarters, but he told her he'd been set up."

"And she believed him?"

"Love is blind, kid. She believed him because she loved him."

"So why would she turn him in?"

Bogg answered with another question. "How did those kids know where to find you?"

Jeffrey thought about that for a long moment. "The only ones who knew—not counting Mrs. Donovan—weren't people those kids would even talk to. But if Sharon went to see Drake that first night and told him about our assignment—telling them is just the sort of thing that jerk would do."

"That's what Sharon figured happened. It made her realize that Drake didn't really love her, but was just using her."

"And 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,'" Will added.

"You mean she didn't tell him just so he would tell those kids? Bogg, she's the one who said I should stay at the boarding house the night of the march!"

"Not Sharon," Will asserted. "I've met her a few times; she's okay, if a bit misguided. She really believed in all that law-and-order felgercarb Drake was spouting, and there's no way she'd break the Code like that. Once she realized Drake had deliberately endangered you, she would have understood how little the Code really meant to him. When you look at it that way, it makes sense that she'd come clean. It also suggests an answer to your original question."

"You mean why Sharon was sent after us in the first place."

"Yeah. Basically, the Core doesn't like loose ends, and Drake is the loosest of all loose ends. The old girl probably decided it was time Sharon found out about him so she would report him."

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Bogg said, "I thought the Core was a computer. How can a computer decide on its own?"

"A computer can't, but an artificial intelligence can. The Core's an artificial intelligence."

"What's the Core?" Jeffrey wanted to know.

"The center of the Omni control system," Will told him. "She runs the repository of true history that the rest of the system uses to identify what's out of whack and transmit a red or green light to your Omni. She also gets intel from the rest of the system, including the monitoring of Voyagers; that's how we know when somebody's in trouble and needs help. Phin just said Sharon ran into Drake when she went back out into the field; the Core would have known when she did, would have known how Drake lied to her. If you'd overheard that, how would you have reacted?"

"I would've told her Drake was full of it," Jeff replied.

"And if you'd been in a position to do something about it?"

"I would've gone straight to the Council myself. So why didn't the Core alert you guys right then?"

Will made a face. "Because she's a warped old bird, that's why," he said dryly. "She's got this nasty habit of finding ways to rub peoples' faces in their mistakes."

"So it's a real artificial intelligence? They finally figured out how to make one?"

"Yeah, they did; actually, it was the Founder that did it. You've heard about the Founder, right?"

"Yeah. Walter Price told us about him. Does anybody know who he was?"

"Next question," Will said.

That got Bogg's attention; it was the Marine's way of letting you know you'd strayed into territory he wasn't allowed to talk about. It's my past, and my future, he'd said during their first days here, when Bogg had asked him if he had any idea what VHQ was. You son of a dog, he thought at his friend as the real meaning of those words sank in for the first time. Not only do you know who the Founder was, you probably met the guy, maybe even worked with him!

Will's reply made Jeffrey blink in momentary confusion; then, realizing it meant he wasn't going to get an answer to that particular question, he took the comment at face value and asked another. "What about the Council Aides? What are they?"

It was Bogg who fielded that one. "Price was one of them," he said. "They work directly for the Council; their duties can be anything from clerical, to acting as couriers—that's what Price was doing when he delivered my Guidebook—to being the closest thing to a police force VHQ has."

"And that's why they'd get sent out after Drake," the boy realized.

Once again the door opened after a brief knock, this time admitting a man bearing food trays.

"I think that's my cue," Will said. "How long you guys gonna be here?"

"Several weeks, though they'll probably be releasing Jeff from the infirmary in the morning."

"You got quarters set up, or would you like me to go to Billeting and take care of it?"

"Already done, but thanks."

"No problem. Later, guys."

Bogg set his tray aside and followed Will out of the room. His friend looked at him, knowing exactly what he was up to. "Phin…" he began.

"No, I'm not going to ask you who he was; I know you can't tell me," Bogg reassured him. "But you once said VHQ was your past and your future. You worked with him, didn't you?"

Will sighed. "No, I didn't. He was long gone by the time I came on board."

"But you did work on the original project."

"Yeah."

With a nod, Bogg lightly slapped his shoulder. "Thanks." His curiosity satisfied, he went back inside.

Jeffrey was released with instructions to take it easy for the next two weeks and return at the end of that time for a follow-up. If he was in the least inclined to dispute the restrictions, the walk to their quarters rapidly convinced him otherwise. Even with the support of the bandages, he was in quite a bit of discomfort by the time they reached the small apartment, and so exhausted that he took little note of his surroundings before carefully lowering himself onto the couch. He was asleep almost immediately. The doctor had warned them that the boy probably would not want to do much more than sleep for the first few days as his ribs began to knit, so Bogg was not overly concerned. He ran a hand affectionately through the tousled dark curls and was warmed to the core when a small smile briefly crossed the young sleeper's face.

Jeffrey's counseling sessions turned out not to be the ordeal he'd been dreading. Dan Beeks-Hoffman arrived just as Bogg was leaving for his own appointment; thanks to the Omni's memory unit, he already knew their entire history and how things stood between them. So thoroughly did he succeed in setting the boy at ease that Jeffrey soon found himself telling him everything he wanted to know, not at all like the ones Social Services had sent to see how he was settling in with his aunt. They would have put him into the foster system for sure if he'd dared tell them the truth, and the news in his time had been full of enough scandalous stories for him to know that was definitely something to be avoided.

To top it all off, Dan had not only given a name to the unreasoning fear he felt whenever Bogg left him behind—"separation anxiety," he called it—but also gave him advice on how to deal with it, which was more than the counselors back home had ever even tried to do about his survivor's guilt. He surprised even himself when he suddenly blurted that out without thought, and learned that their ineffectuality in handling it was due to the fact that so little was known about it in 1982. Thinking about that finally allowed him to let go of what he had previously perceived as insult added to injury.

Nor could he deny that it certainly felt good to talk about his feelings surrounding their assignments, especially ones like the Titanic and Pearl Harbor. It was just such missions, Dan told him, that were the reason every field worker had to see a counselor as part of his annual checkup, and it was easy for him to see the wisdom in that.

Bogg came back shortly after Dan had left, this time with Susan in tow. The blonde lawyer smiled. "It's good to see you again, Jeffrey," she said, setting her briefcase on the kitchen table—the living room and kitchen were essentially one large room, with a counter marking the edge of the kitchen. "I hope you're feeling better," she added as the boy slowly levered himself up from the couch.

"Thanks," he acknowledged. "The wrapping really helps."

"Can I get you anything?" Bogg asked her. "They stocked the kitchen for us."

"No; I'm fine," Susan said. "This should only take a few minutes, and I have a client due in my office in about half an hour."

"Please tell me we don't have one of Drake's followers in the Prosecutor's office," Bogg groaned as he pulled out a chair for her.

"No; they actually haven't chosen a new Prosecutor yet. This is actually good news. The Tribunal is reviewing the cases of all those people Drake brought to trial."

"How'd he manage to mess up the Omni's memory unit, anyway?" Jeffrey wanted to know. "He was never alone with it, and even if he was, he would've been zapped like Bogg was if he tried to take it off the reader."

"He re-programmed the reader to show his evidence in the most damaging light possible," Susan told him.

"Re-programmed? You mean that thing's a computer?" Jeffrey demanded.

"Believe it or not, it is, even if it does look like something out of an HG Wells novel. It has to do with the aesthetics of the people who invented the Omni."

That remark got Jeffrey bursting with questions, but, knowing she was short on time, he decided to keep them to himself for now, instead watching quietly as she removed some forms from her briefcase.

Bogg picked one up and looked at it. "They're already filled out," he said, puzzled.

Susan laughed, an almost musical sound that even Jeffrey found enchanting. "So Will didn't tell you?"

"Tell us what?"

"While you two were in Texas trying to apprehend Drake, Professor Garth sent your Omni to TE to have the memory unit checked. They uploaded its contents to a permanent record, then somebody broadcast the trial over our television system. Everybody here saw the whole thing—including that conversation you two had while I was looking for Drake's diary," she added.

"Sharon did tell me that everybody here knew this was coming," Bogg said, indicating the form as he handed it back to her. "I'm guessing that's what told them."

She nodded. "They're sure of it to the point that they're betting on when it's going to happen, instead of if."

"I bet there were a lot of embarrassed people after Drake was exposed," Jeffrey remarked.

That drew another laugh from Susan. "There were a handful who tried to crawl into a hole and pull it in after them, but the rest of us were like kids at Christmas."

"But Drake made it sound like the majority were in his camp," Bogg said, a little puzzled.

"They were," Susan confirmed. "But that incident caused a major investigation into everything Drake's done since he was recruited. It turns out he manipulated people like you wouldn't believe, playing on each person's individual opinions. A few only followed him because they were afraid of him—"

"He was something of a bully in school," Bogg nodded, then apologized for interrupting.

"More than a bit," Susan agreed. "Three or four people have admitted he was actually blackmailing them, and there may be more who are still afraid to come forward.

"Phineas, don't be surprised if the investigators call you in for questioning." When the pair exchanged worried glances, she reassured them, "You're not under suspicion, but you are an important witness, since you were the first of us to discover the truth about him.

"Anyway, to get back to my point, when Will opened the pool, I took the liberty of filling out the papers in advance; all I need is your signatures and how you want your name put in," she added to Jeffrey.

"Don't we have to have a court hearing?" Jeffrey asked.

"We don't do it that way here," Susan replied. "The forms will be processed in Records, then sent to an Elder for validation. Once that happens, you'll get the certificate. It should all take only two or three days."

"Do we get to pick the Elder?"

"You can, yes."

"Then it should be Professor Garth, don't you think, Bogg?"

"He is the one who told us you were supposed to be a Voyager," Bogg agreed.

"He administered your oath, too, didn't he, Phineas?" At his nod, she went on, "Then I'll have Records route it to his office when they're done with it. So, Jeffrey, what did you decide about your name?"

Coloring just a little, this time pleasantly, he told her.

Bogg grinned. "Took a page out of Will's book, did you?"

"It made sense. This way I get to honor both you and my parents at the same time."

"It is a very elegant solution," Susan said, replacing the signed papers in her bag. "Now, I hear it's going to be quite some time before you can be released for duty again."

"Yeah," Bogg nodded. "As soon as he's allowed some light activity, I'm planning on taking him on a tour of the place."

"Is there a library?" Jeffrey asked hopefully.

"Getting bored already, are you?" Susan teased. "Phineas, why don't you have somebody from Orientation let him take his placement tests? Then he can get a head start on his preliminary classes while you're here."

"I was only in seventh grade," Jeffrey said. "I guess I'm gonna need some more education before I start Voyager school."

"Well, that's a switch," Susan said. "Usually our junior recruits start groaning when they find out they still have to go to school."

"I like school," Jeffrey said. "Besides, it'll give me something to do."

1) Long Island, referred to simply as "the Island" by all New Yorkers.