Tom

ooo

Marie calls with the good news: I can move in immediately, provided I don't mind having inspectors and workmen in the place for a while.

I expected Kathryn to laugh when I installed a small sign on the newly painted door: Helm Holography. She just nodded approvingly.

"Appearances are everything," she said. "There seems to be enough furniture around here; if you'd like, I'll help you set up an office."

Work-wise, most things have gone smoothly: Nico is damn good at hanging holoboard, and moving my equipment from San Francisco was easier than expected.

The project itself — well, that's more complicated. Coding isn't a problem, but Karlo hasn't finished his spec holograms. In the meantime, Draso and I are trying to set up emitters for what we have. Her gallery is in a converted warehouse, so adjusting for lighting and open space is a pain.

"Enough for one evening, Thomas," she tells me on a wet and windy Thursday. "I've ordered pizza; interested?"

I debate. Kathryn has an evening meeting at Columbia, so no excuse there. Refusing, I suspect, might come off as rude. "Sure. What do I owe you?"

She shakes her head. "Don't worry about it."

We chat as we eat, but I'm wary. I've noticed how she looks at me, and while she's attractive, I don't want to go there. So, I get up. "I should get going; it's late."

"Sure you don't want a nightcap?" she teases.

"Thank you, but no," I say gently.

She sits back and gives me a pouty look. "Out of curiosity," she says. "Don't you like blondes, or you don't get involved with women you work with? Or are you just attracted to Terrans? Or have I missed something altogether?"

I chuckle. "Well, to answer two of your questions: My ex-wife and I both served on Voyager. She was the chief engineer. She's also half-Klingon."

Oh, there it is; that wide-eyed look I get when I mention B'Elanna's heritage. "And I've dated a few blondes in my time." I pause for a quick internal debate, then admit what I've known for a few weeks. "But right now, well, there's a certain redhead."

She gives me a slow, knowing smile. "I suspected, but I had to try," she says offhandedly. "Phoebe is rooting for you."

"I can use the help," I joke.

"Oh, I don't know," Draso admonishes. "I sense that Kathryn is a complicated woman, but I also sense that you mean something to her. She was rather territorial when you and I met."

ooo

Draso may be right, but at the moment, Kathryn and I barely have time to say hello, let alone launch a relationship. I've been pulling all-nighters coding the last of Karlo's holograms. Kathryn's wrapping up her last course, and the best news: Columbia has asked her to develop and teach a grad-level course.

She's excited about it, but there's a catch: My father has called her to a meeting — at Daystrom Institute's research campus in Toronto.

"Think this is the posting he's been keeping you around for?" I ask.

"I suspect so," she says with a shrug. "We'll see."

ooo

Kathryn

Tom's startled when I walk out of the bedroom in my duty uniform. Can't blame him: I was startled to see myself in the mirror. It is ironic: I spent most of my life wearing a uniform or wanting to wear one. But these days, I'm quite comfortable not wearing it.

"Well, off to Toronto then," he says.

"Shall I tell your father you said hello?" I tease as I drink the last of my coffee. He does talk to Julia, mostly to trade reports on Miral.

"Sure. If he asks, you can tell him I'm talking to folks about ... work. That should satisfy him for a while." I get his drift. No sense in giving Owen or anyone else an opening to criticize him should this fall through.

We're both quiet for a moment. "Would you like me to walk you to the transporter station?" he offers.

"Thanks, but I have a ride," I say as I tap my communicator. "Admiral Janeway to Triad."

"Triad here, Admiral. We're ready when you are."

"See you later," I mouth to Tom. "Thank you, Triad. One to beam up."

ooo

Triad's captain is there for the courtesy greeting. It will be about twenty minutes before the ship's orbit is back in line with Toronto, so I duck into the replicator room for coffee and think about how it's come to this ...

As I told Tom when I finally continued my story, when I agreed to take leave, I had no firm plans, outside of counseling sessions. So, I went home. I napped a lot, though I did try to be useful — the mud room got its long-overdue coat of paint. But Mom wasn't fooled by my homebody act and gently confronted me over breakfast one morning.

"I understand you brought back a great deal of data and scientific information. Planning to do anything with it?"

"I wasn't offered a sciences post," I reminded her. She shrugged. "You still have access, don't you? You've always considered yourself a scientist. Maybe you should go science."

This makes me laugh, and Mom looks pleased. "Go science? Does that mean you're going to go math this afternoon?"

"I certainly am," she said. "Think about it, Katie. You now have the time to do research. At least get caught up on your field, which might be useful if you do decide to retire."

Actually, I'd done some of that on Voyager once we had access. But she had a point. So I immersed myself in academic journals. I noted that there wasn't much Delta Quadrant data, not surprising, since it hasn't all been released.

So, for the hell of it, I scoured my notes and accessed the non-classified database to write a short paper on the trinary star systems in the Delta. I submitted it to the Academy's monthly science journal, which aims at a general audience — think line officers.

I wasn't expecting much; most of the content is self-promotion for the Sciences Division. But boy, howdy, to use one of Tom's odd 20th-century terms, it was the lead article and got lots of attention. Well, with the exception of the Academy's Science Division.

Among the notes and messages I received was an invitation to the Federation Astronomical Society's annual convention. Well, why not? I decided. I hadn't been to London for, oh, a decade.

ooo

I rather enjoyed the conference; it was nice to have science-centered conversations, even if most of it was Delta Quadrant science. Made some contacts, too, which could be useful at some point.

"Some point" came along sooner than I expected, in the form of a note from Dr. David Reddick, Dean of the Astrosciences School at Columbia University. He asked if I'd be interested in developing some short-term classes on Delta Quadrant phenomena. If so, I had an open invitation to visit the campus to talk with him.

Mom was impressed. "Columbia, eh?" she said with a grin. "I think they're worthy of you. Go talk to the man, Katie; you can always say no if you don't like the offer."

So, I went, I saw, we talked, and I liked the offer. There was only one problem: the classes would begin when my extended leave ended. I could ask for another extension, or I could just retire. Mom, who's spent a career navigating the academic landscape, had good arguments against retiring just yet. So that left an extension.

I sent off my request and a copy of Columbia's offer; as expected, Admiral Nechayev called me to San Francisco.

"It's an interesting offer," she said, waving the PADD. "We do have an Academy that could host those courses."

"I asked for an Academy spot. I was turned down," I pointed out. Nechayev frowned but didn't say anything, just tapped the PADD on her desk.

"I read your article on the trinary systems, and understand it received favorable reviews," she began. "And no doubt that signing you would be a coup for Columbia."

She looked at the PADD again. "Perhaps Starfleet should share in some of that glory; it's time we reminded the Federation that we were created for exploration and discovery."

She tapped the PADD on the desk, then raised an eyebrow at me. "Personnel had suggested an Operations posting. Let's consider this: You return to active duty at the end of your leave. You take the Columbia post as a special assignment. We have a proposal that's very close to final approval, so I expect to have a new posting for you by the end of the term."