To say Kathryn was baffled by the current upward trajectory of her career would be an understatement. While yes, it was something of a truth that humans had historically leveraged stately legacies out of wars, this certainly couldn't have been the usual way.
This being that she had been court-martialed into a higher posting.
The absurdity of it was astounding. Starfleet had taken her ship from her, had court-martialed her within and inch of her freedom, and (out of the goodness of their very hearts) let her keep her rank. Then they'd grounded her for three years—sent her to languish in Fleet Operations while they figured out what they wanted to do with her.
Kathryn Janeway had spent the better part of that time trying to understand the machinations behind Starfleet's bizarre decision-making. This type of turnabout was endemic to Kirk's time, when the rules were situational at best, not a feature of the current bureaucratic behemoth that thrown all it could at a god and won. Command's ethos was vague to her and — given how she was an adept hand at diplomacy and politics — practically opaque to anyone else who might bother to care.
The consensus among most was that she should be grateful. That captains like her aspired to commands like the USS she'd stolen this esteemed ship from those ahead of her in line. That it was an unimaginable improvement over the Bellerophon. That she was an upstart that benefited from a nepotistic admiralty.
That she should be thankful.
Perhaps she should, but one doesn't simply turn their nose up at the ship that housed and protected through hell. Hadn't the Intrepid Class proven its merits, in both war and exploration? Bellerophon by surviving the harshest campaigns of the Dominion War; Voyager by returning from where no one had gone before. Where many saw a woman greedy to climb the ladder of command after lackluster decision-making, she saw herself a Captain stripped of the ship she had grown to love.
And now, she stood among two of the attention-hounded captains of Intrepid vessels. One had been made admiral upon stepping on Earth's soil. The other, Kathryn, had been made Captain of the darling of the 5th fleet.
A Galaxy Class no less storied than the flagship, even if a little less beloved.
Hers now.
A prize given to a woman who split opinions like hair. Maverick, war hero, unpredictable and unreliable. Kathryn had heard it all and more. Cardassian lover, perhaps the most creative of the lot. As if one needed to ignore the horrific crimes of a species — nay, love them for it — to protect who they could during their darkest hour? If one truly adhered to — no, lived by — the tenets of the Federation, then the right thing required neither love nor strenuous mental calculus.
Only action.
What would your father have thought of your actions?
Owen Paris had saved her from having to answer that unnecessarily personal dressing down, just as he'd saved her from the Cardassian interrogations all those years ago, back when he'd been her captain, not one of the admirals weighing in on her court marshal.
Edward would have been proud.
Now, Owen waited aboard McKinley Station, ready to introduce her to her new ship, almost exactly a decade after he'd introduced her to her last.
Her old commander and new political ally looked more refreshed than he had when she'd seen him last in early 2377. Voyager's return had given him a reformed son, a lively daughter-in-law, and a grandchild to dote on. He had more to look forward to now than he'd had when the war had ended.
This was one more thing they shared — a delayed reprieve.
"Katie!" he greeted her in one of the stations transporter rooms, broad smile on his lined face.
"Admiral—" at his pointed expression, she self-corrected, "Owen."
"You should have taken a hopper," he began leading her from the room, "Your ship is a beauty from the outside."
Perhaps, but it's lines weren't nearly so clean as the Bellerophon's, not nearly so efficient. Besides, transport vessels were for people who had time, a luxury she was in short supply of at the moment.
Kathryn didn't say any of this though, to do so was to imply one of her most ardent supports had taking to sitting on his laurels. Of course, there was some truth to it, but hadn't Owen earned the peace that came with his rank and command?
She smiled instead, all teeth, "I'm sure she is. I'll get to appreciate it. Something's bound to get me in the shutter sooner rather than later."
The admiral gave her a quick tour of the facilities used to refit the Venture. Kathryn was gracious during many of the introductions with the McKinley crew. Some she was already familiar with, having received their reports or joined their meetings via remote communication. Through it all, Owen kept a steady stream of conversation with her. Stories of his son, inquiries after her mother and sister, and pieces of trivia about the systems changes aboard her ship. She went along cheerfully, glad to hear the troubled younger Paris was flourishing at last, describing Phoebe's latest art installation, and refraining from reminding him she'd all but memorized the Venture's schematics.
He was proud of his people and their work; she had no reason to undercut it.
"I noticed you've taken on some of Voyager's crew."
Kathryn knew the reputation they had: insulated, out of touch with Starfleet, out-of-step with the war time changes, some not even really Starfleet. Yet, they were clever, determined, and tested. Most had opted to stay in or convert to Starfleet. Those who'd come from the Equinox had submitted themselves for tribunals and court marshals, accepting their guilt and their terms. Some in Starfleet assumed the entire crew only had loyalty to themselves and Voyskunsky.
Perhaps.
"You're aware that Commander Tuvok and I go a ways back. Dr. Retz would be a benefit to any ship he serves on."
"Have you met the hologram?"
"No, but I met Dr. Zimmerman before he passed, and I'm friends with Qrlthlmtrly. Mr. Tuvok also speaks highly of his skill."
Unspoken was that Tuvok had told her more than this. She was, after all, the unseen thread that connected Qrlthlmtrly to the once-EMH. Many within the Federation and Starfleet remained skeptical of the efficacy of synthetic life. The formal recognition of his personhood had not changed that. Could it be possible that her own mentor remained unconvinced?
"Besides, Venture's CMO moved to the Starfleet Medical HQ, and the Bellerophon's medical team has opted to stay in their current posting."
The rest of her senior staff were holdovers from the Venture or the Bellerophon. Some, like Liam Shaw, were both. Loraine, a late-stage addition to her crew during the war, had leapt at the chance to serve under Kathryn again. Her Ops officer, Ilako, came from Venture's previous engineering crew. She'd met the Saurian on Earth after the war, during one of this stints teaching at the academy. He'd been an easy choice — already familiar with the ship.
On paper, they were a good bridge grew and a senior staff. The addition of Tuvok was a much welcomed concession from a good friend. Aeson Gertz was a bargain deal.
A look passed over Owen's face.
Kathryn was only tangentially aware aware of the proceedings that lead to the hologram's personhood. Few knew of her exceedingly small role in it, not even the man in question himself. If Owen had, she didn't think he'd be focusing on her choice of CMO. At least not to this degree.
"Tom has stories."
"I'm sure he does," she tried to keep the 'mind your own business' tenor of her tone mild. Just enough made it through to suggest that the crew of Voyager probably also had their fair share of stories about the pilot, but not enough to suggest she thought they were true.
Owen, to his credit, gave her a smile approaching chagrinned.
"Don't begrudge and old man his concerns."
She was his protege after all.
"No, of course not," Kathryn let her smile soften, "Why doesn't this old man show me to my ship? You can tell me about your granddaughter on the way."
…
Her ship was all cool grays and blues, in a way that was painfully nostalgic. The look and feel of it closely resembled the Bellerophon, thanks to the refitted interiors. Everything else was near identical to the Enterprise D, which took getting used to. As did looking to her right from her place on the bridge and seeing Tuvok parsing through reports during lethargic shifts.
How she had missed her friend while he had been lost. To not only have him back in the Alpha Quadrant but also lending his stalwart presence aboard her ship was a boon she had once been too wary to hope for. Three months into their mission, and the decision had proven to be the correct one.
Where she and Cavit had experienced growing pains aboard the Bellerophon, Tuvok had taken to her command style with an unstated ease. Perhaps it had been all that advice he'd given her (and she'd taken) throughout the years before he'd vanished, or maybe their divergent experiences had made them keen to experience the safety of serving so closely with a known quantity. Whatever it was, she was gratified by his presence, as well as the added benefit of having T'Pel aboard whenever the other Vulcan's schedule permitted.
It wasn't only Tuvok who made easing into her new command simpler. Loraine Pernia, her security officer aboard the Bellerophon had leapt at the opportunity to serve with her again, turning down a coveted position aboard the Excelsior to do so. The Bajoran woman was Kathryn's age, affable and had a mean right hook that had laid her out flat in many a sparring matches. As the second officer, she provided a lively counterweight to Tuvok's logic and Kathryn's scientific curiosity.
Pernia had taken the Merrythought's death hard — considered it a personal failure on her part. Hitimi had done her best to remind the Bajoran she was not responsible for the actions of her people, nor was she capable of preventing all death, but the security officer still used it as a motivator. Kathryn could have told the counselor that it was useless to try to make it otherwise, but Mai had earned the right to figure that out on her own.
And Mai Hitimi, who was never on the bridge but whose presence was still felt. Kathryn had met the Haliian in her second year grounded on Earth — a recommendation of Qrlthlmtrly's. Her insight into the mind had been invaluable. An empath who hadn't needed that innate skill to help Kathryn over comms. Getting her to agree to join the crew had been the real coup — her expertise in conflict trauma had been invaluable and would continue to be so.
Thinking of the counselor reminded Kathryn of Tuvok's near aborted attempt to get her to seek help. The poor man had looked as if he was trying to navigate an emotional field of landmines by requesting she seek the help of the empath. The faint look of relief on his features — unfamiliar as it was — when she told him that she already was utilizing the counselor's skills had been worth it.
That she could trust her CMO not to engage in zone defense with her was even even better.
"We're approaching Deep Space Nine," Taiit, her conn's officer, addressed her.
The Kzinti was new to Kathryn, but well recommended. One of the few of his species in the Starfleet, he was brash and forthright and usually kept to himself.
Unless on duty.
"We've been given permission to dock," Pernia sounded from the upper level.
"Quarter thrusters," responded Taiit.
"Systems normal," Ilako chimed in.
"Docked," Taitt again.
"Venture, welcome to Deep Space Nine," came the unfamiliar voice over the comms.
Kathryn looked over to Tuvok, who met her gaze easily.
"Avoid Quarks," she advised, the corner of her mouth raising in a partial grin.
"I am familiar," he replied, to her surprise.
Pernia laughed from above them, "Do I want to know?"
"I suspect so," Tuvok, never one to smile, still somehow managed to look amused regardless. It made Kathryn want to sit him down and ask him all the things that had happened to him in the Delta Quadrant that he hadn't told her.
…
This was their only stop between the Alpha Quadrant and the Gamma — a four day reprieve. The Venture was well known to the inhabitants of Deep Space Nine. It had helped carry out Sisko's plan during the war to retake the station. 2374 had been an entirely different sort of year for the Bellerophon — Tyra then Sybaron then Kalandra.
Yet, Kathryn knew this station well. It's where she'd docked after the Battle of Cardassia, torn and tattered, with more Cardassian civilians than she knew what to do with. It's where she'd waited, in the wings, as the Dominion War came to a close, with a nearly anti-climatic treaty with the Founders. The very one that would allow her to take her current crew through the wormhole to the expanse of space that was once off limits.
Colonel Kira met her at the entrance to the promenade. The social hum was lively and unblemished by fear that had suffused like humidity through the place the last time she'd been here all those years ago.
"Captain Janeway," the brunette welcomed, a genuine wide smile in place.
Her connection to the Bajoran was entirely through chance. A surprising feature of the war's end was that Kira Nerys had, against all odds, been one of the few of her people who appreciated Kathryn for her efforts at the battle of Cardassia. A woman with every reason to hate an entire people, had made sure to welcome those she who had been crammed into every corner of the Bellerophon aboard. Then, when it was clear that Sisko was missing for good, she'd played her part in relocating those unfortunate souls, and had even extended the invitation for civilian scientists to remain.
"I can't believe you've decided to colonize more worlds in the Gamma Quadrant," Kathryn fell into step with the other woman.
"I can't believe they gave you command of another ship!"
"It's a mystery."
"Well, I, for one, am glad Starfleet saw reason."
Was it reason? Perhaps. The Cardassians certainly regarded her in a positive light. Given the Federation was consistently sending aid to the beleaguered species, it made sense to let a well-regarded captain man a ship near their space.
"They saw something, for sure," Kathryn said instead.
"Your crew made quick work of departing; I spent the entire morning making sure the rooms in the outer ring are ready for them. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but Quark has helped make sure the Promenade has plenty to offer them. Of course, he's been making a killing since the end of the war with all the markups—"
A startled shout sounded from the crowd cloistered around a Bajoran cafe. A moment later, a frenetic streak of black and gray slammed into her from the side. Kathryn, whose instincts were still wired for conflict, hardly lost her footing as her arms came around the shoulders of her attacker. Her attacker who was giggling, long dark braids arching through the air, as Kathryn hefted her off the floor and gave her a spin.
"You're getting too big for this, Esky," Kathryn grossed as she set the young girl down and tugged on her right braid.
Esket beamed up at her, unconcerned that passersby were craning their necks to see the unfamiliar site of a Cardassian child with her arms around the waist of a Starfleet officer. Doing her best to limit that officer's movements and keep her close. Some of those passersby were members of her crew, doing a very poor job of hiding their shocked curiosity. Kathryn thought she saw Barclay nearly lose his jaw to the floor as Morlin forced him to keep moving.
"You're here!"
"I am!" Kathryn gave a her a gentle bop on the nose with her index finger, "and you'll get me all to yourself when you finish your classes."
"That she's skipped," Kira was doing her very best to give the child a disapproving glare, but the corners of her mouth kept sneaking upward, ruining the entire effect, "Daska and Jil won't be happy bout this, young lady."
The short teen bounced on her heels and propped her chin against Kathryn's shoulder, still unwilling to release her from the hug, "They told me not to get caught."
This caused both of the older women to laugh.
Kathryn shook her head, pushed the fringe from Esket's face, and gave the crown of her head and quick kiss. "You should get back before your teacher misses you."
"Lunch break only just ended," the girl pouted.
With the skill of person who'd spent the better part of half a decade learning how to pry Mark's sticky children off her her when it was time to end each visit, Kathryn detangled herself from the hug. Esket, to her credit, let her do so with only minimal complaint. Once she was able to extract a promise from Kathryn to personally collect her from school at the end of the day, the child disappeared into the crowd.
"She's gotten so big," Kathryn said, a wistful smile on her face as Kira led her toward the stairs to the overlook, "comm screens don't do a good job of showing that."
"You'll just have to visit her more now that you can."
Kathryn hummed the affirmative, knowing it was possible.
The girl's guardians had worked hard to make sure that Esket remained in touch with her human friend, content to allow that connection to secure them a place on the station their people had once used to oppress the Bajorans. The women were young themselves, barely adults when they'd accepted the task of caring for the orphaned girl with no other living relatives. Fellow survivors of the bombardment of Talahat, now responsible for the wonderful child they'd never planned for.
It helped to have a Starfleet Captain play the role of her aunt.
It opened doors and kept them all cared for.
"Are there many Cardassians left aboard?"
"A dozen or so," Kira confirmed, "the Bajoran government allows them to stay in exchange for research into agricultural solutions to the blights. They aren't allowed on the surface, but they're treated all right here now that everyone is used to seeing them."
Baby steps then.
"She's the only child?"
Kira sighed, "Yes. I don't keep too close of an eye on her, but I'm told she's made friends."
The Bajoran looked uncomfortable for a moment, before confessing, "People here, they think what happened to Cardassia was punishment for Bajor. That kind of thinking, I have to encourage it. Bajorans can make peace with Cardassians if they think they paid the right price. And they do — think that"
The decimation of their planet and nearly a billion of their own was a high price to pay.
Esket, a year shy of adolescence, bruised and bloody, weeping in the arms of her dying father. A child plucked from her shattering home in the blue haze of a Starfleet transporter. Alone in a cargo bay quickly filling with the screams and weeping of people unlucky enough to face the wrath of the Jem'Hadar, yet fortunate enough to be snatched from the jaws of certain death by a ship full of those they had, until just moments before, been at war with.
"I know," Kira responded to the unstated thought, "but for the first time since we've known them, they're weaker than us. That goes a long way toward keeping the peace."
Kathryn couldn't argue.
After parting ways with the Colonel, Kathryn took her time walking the rest of the promenade. The architecture was still painfully Cardassian — hostile to the tastes of those who occupied its space — but the Bajorans had done their best to take that skeleton and soften it with their more natural peacetime aesthetic. She admired the art and smatterings of plant life as she browsed the shops.
At times, she caught snippets of the conversation around her. Much of it benign communication between those who lived and worked there, others the odd business deals in the making between transients. On occasion, she even heard her own crew happily chatting as they embraced their first leave — they were easily spotted in their Starfleet uniforms and many greeted her as she passed by them.
"He could have been me," that was the voice of the station's doctor, catching her attention as he walked by.
She didn't know Bashir well, but she did know who he was talking to: Gibans and Retz. The former was sizing Bashir up, unconvinced by what the man was saying.
"No, it's true," that was Retz, "Lewis was this close to giving me that hairline."
Kathryn shook her head, not really sure what they were talking about but amused nevertheless. She moved on, not wanting to interrupt them, then came to a stop at the cafeteria, her eyes narrowing in disbelief by what she saw.
"You're turning into quite the truant, aren't you?"
Setting at one of the tables was Esket, feet tucked up under her legs and fingernails between her teeth as she she stared in concentration at the Kal-toh set in front of her. Opposite the girl was Tuvok, supervising her move with the patient eyes of a man who'd raised several children and then saw to it that a crew of Maquis made their way home. Kathryn imagined very few, if any of them, had ever skipped anything and gotten away with it.
Kathryn looked at Tuvok, "I wasn't aware you knew each other."
"We did not, until today," his tone was measured but his brow quirked.
"Aunt Katie!" Esket beamed, as if she hadn't just seen her a little over an hour before, "We're learning about Kal-toh at school! None of us are any good at it, so when I saw Mr. Tuvok was sitting by himself, I asked him to teach me. It's like being in school, if you think about it."
"Uh huh," she was aware she was doing the same thing Kira had done earlier, trying to scowl but smiling instead.
"Captain, I was not aware your sister had married a Cardassian."
Was that a joke?
There was definitely a trace of mirth in his dark eyes.
Esket giggled, "No! Auntie Jil says you don't need to be related to be related."
"A wise observation," Tuvok stated, earning a smile from the young girl, as he removed a piece from the set a altered the state of the board.
He caught her gaze with his, "Familial bonds can be forged between anyone."
Kathryn softened and took a seat at their table, "Tuvok, this is Esket Millal. Esket, this is my friend and first officer, Tuvok."
Esket removed the next piece, and frowned when the feedback from the board was negative, "Is it much fun, working with friends?"
"It is rewarding," Tuvok answered.
"Sometimes, I have to work on projects with my friends, and it's horrible. We argue over everything and nothing gets done. Aunt Daska says its because children aren't capable of diplomacy, but she also thinks most adults aren't either."
"Diplomacy is a skill that must be learned," Tuvok advised, "it begins with listening and agreeing on a common goal. Children are novices but can learn."
Perhaps Esket was right — playing Kal-toh was the same as receiving an education. Her Vulcan friend certainly seemed willing to impress upon this child he'd just met lessons hard earned. As if aware of her thoughts, he looked up from the game and addressed her, "I am content to continue to teach Miss Millal the basics of Kol-tah and diplomacy.
"I'll see you for dinner, Aunt Katie?"
Knowing a dismissal when she saw one, Kathryn gave the two a bemused smile and nodded. She could use the time to complete reviewing the latest staffing reports and familiarize herself with the latest mission parameters.
…
"Dammit, it was a trap," Kathryn seethed, wincing through the excruciating pain in her right thigh as two pairs of hands hoisted her onto the bio bed.
Five weeks of peaceful aid to the Bajoran colonists, unceremoniously and violently earmarked by an ambush. Two beds over, Dr. Gioxi was working quickly to save the life of the man who'd used his body to shield Kathryn's from the blast and disrupter fire. If the colonial architect hadn't tackled her when he had, she'd be paste and he would be breathing without the assistance of a computer.
The pain eased from her body when Nurse Drara administered a hypospray, but the adrenaline remained. It took Dr. Retz's not inconsiderable strength to keep her from hopping off the bed onto her injured leg when Pernia rushed into the sickbay to report.
"The assailant was captured, Captain. She isn't talking, and the colonists are calling to administer their own justice."
"Not right now they won't," Kathryn groaned.
"I need the Captain to focus on the fact that she has a charred femur and lacerations to her spleen and liver, Lieutenant. Update her when I've stabilized her condition. Commander Tuvok can handle this until then," Retz insisted, his usually jovial expression hard and pinched.
A moment later, he'd pressed down on both of her shoulders so that she would lay back. The restraint fields on the biobed kept her from springing back up again.
"Doctor," she barked, dismayed by her immobility.
"Drara!"
The nurse understood his command without him needing to explain it, and only seconds later Kathryn felt her world dissolve into nothing.
She woke with a start, the world coming back to her crisply.
Nothing around her indicated how much time had passed, not in any meaningful way. Above her, the lights were dim, and only the faint beeping of the computer monitoring her was present. Kathryn sat, her hands coming up to grasp at the gauzy fabric of her medical gown, and looked around her.
The intensive care section of the sickbay was empty, the man — Tolan Hessil — who'd saved her gone, no signs remaining that he'd even been there.
"Computer," she called, just as her CMO materialized beside her biobed.
"You've been unconscious two days and eleven hours."
Before she could slide to her feet, he grabbed her. His grip on her elbows was firm but loose. He no longer seemed to be interested in manhandling her; rather, he was attempting to keep her from standing too quickly.
"You have new bone and muscle in your leg," he said gently, voice soft in a way she wasn't expecting, as if the lights at quarter brightness increased his bedside manner, "if you put weight on it without support you're going to fall over."
"That bad?" Her voice caught like gravel in her throat, disused and dry.
"Lieutenant Loraine took a single look at it after we sedated you and turned green," he released her slowly, the ambient warmth of his hands replaced with the cool sickbay air, and moved away to load a hypospray with something.
When he returned and administered it against her neck, she cleared her throat and worked the muscles in her jaw, "I need a report on what happened while I was out."
"Commander Tuvok was alerted when you woke. He'll be here to fill in the details. The broad strokes are that Mr. Tolan is alive and recovering down the hall. The assailant died in an escape attempt."
"Bajoran?"
"Yes," he met her gaze, the dimmed light throwing shadows that made the natural lines of his face appear deeper, the holographic stubble on his cheeks darker, "another Pah-wraith acolyte."
"Was anyone else hurt?"
They couldn't take another Merrythought so soon, not at the hands of the same assailant.
"Not in the initial blast that injured you, no. Two of the colony's security detail were killed in the escape attempt. Commander Tuvok and Lieutenant Loraine managed to prevent a witch hunt in the colony, but the tensions are still high and we're expecting a party from Bajor to arrive within the day. We've been ordered to leave and return Mr. Tolan to Deep Space Nine to recover."
He held out his hands to provide support as she stood. Kathryn settled her grip around his forearms and slid to her feet. Her right leg buckled, but she was able to remain standing with his help, "How long will the weakness last?"
"You'll need light physiotherapy, but you should make a full recovery in two weeks. For now, I recommend you step lightly."
Kathryn released his arms and stepped away from him carefully as the doors to sickbay opened, admitting Tuvok.
"Commander Tuvok," Dr. Retz greeted, "I've given the Captain a quick update. If you can spare ten minutes, I'm sure she'd appreciate being in uniform for the full briefing."
The Vulcan came to a halt and gave a measured nod, "I can assemble the senior staff on Deck One while she does so."
Then, as if to convey to her he did not find the journey down here to be a waste, her friend added, "I am gratified to see you are awake and well, Captain."
"I'm gratified to be awake, Mr. Tuvok."
"Splendid. I'll be gratified to see you both in the debriefing," said Dr. Retz, just a hair of a second before vanishing.
Kathryn looked at the empty space where he'd been and smiled ruefully, "Is he always so…" she gestured vaguely with a hand.
"Quite."
…
Tuvok, it turned out, was now capable of surprising her.
Seated in her ready room, Kathryn was nursing a steaming mug of coffee in one hand while rubbing the other along the thigh of her healed leg. She'd managed to regain most of her strength and coordination in the prior four days, but the nerves there still stung if she sat for too long without moving.
They would reach the wormhole soon, half way into gamma shift by Taitt's estimation. In the time since the attack, they were no closer to understanding why what had happened on the colony had happened.
Tolan, though awake and recovering, knew as. Much as them. Prior to the attack, there had been no concerns about the Pah-wraith faction infiltrating the settlement. Most believed the acolytes adverse to traveling through the wormhole. An inkling of a suspicion kept surfacing as she completed her mission report for Command. The ship captained by women deemed a Cardassian lover by her detractors didn't suffer two attacks spaced so closely together without it being linked. How and why were unknown to her, but her intuition was telling her to remain on alert.
That didn't stop her from being startled by the chime at the door. She was technically off-duty, and hadn't been expecting anyone to locate her here unless there was an emergency. And since there were no klaxons…
"Enter."
She smiled when she saw her friend, "Here to tell me to stop working?"
"While I continue to believe your efficiency decreases after fourteen hours on duty, I am here for a personal matter."
Ah.
Kathryn stood, managing to only wince just a little at the twinge in her thigh, and gestured for him to take a seat on the couch as she rounded the desk. Unwilling to leave her coffee behind, she brought it with her and took a seat facing him.
With as serious an expression she could muster, Kathryn took a sip and said, "I'm all ears."
Tuvok, apparently keen to her playful stoicism, pointedly did not respond to it, "T'Pel will be joining us when we reach Deep Space Nine."
"So soon!" Kathryn smiled pleased for her friend.
"That is not all," he continued, eyebrow in danger of raising at even the indication of her excitement.
Tuvok knew by now that his wife had chosen, with logic as her motivation, to become friends with his friend during his long absence. As, if through the transient law of marriage, T'Pel was meant to offer support to Kathryn during the war in his stead. Kathryn had, driven by logic of course, provided support to T'Pel while her husband's whereabouts were unknown. Surely he couldn't begrudge Kathryn her very human excitement.
"Oh, go on and tell me, then! I'm too tired for suspense."
He shifted, near imperceptibly. That was her cue to set aside her coffee and take him seriously, "Tuvok?"
Nothing in his expression changed, but everything in his demeanor did, "My time on Voyager only strengthened my appreciation for my family. I thought that my children were old enough to accept my absence. I know now they mourned it. I too, mourned them though I could not find the logic in it."
Funny, she found that very logical.
"Are you telling me your children will be visiting? Venture has the space, you don't need my permission."
"I am not telling you that."
She smiled, a quizzical furrow to her brow, "What, exactly, are you telling me? Forgive me, I know the topic is difficult for Vulcans, but are you trying to say you're…what…planning on having more children?"
He was in his prime, and it wasn't unheard of her officers aboard a ship with familial accompaniments to have children.
To his credit, Tuvok did not bulk at this — that is, his hands remained calmly on his own knees — "T'Pel and I are finished having children."
Okay, that nixed that theory.
"We are; however, not finished raising children."
Kathryn looked at her coffee and considered grabbing it for fortification. Her old friend wasn't always so cryptic, but when he was, he really put his entire focus on the task. She was more than completely aware that all their children were grown. And unless they were planning on finding a parentless child in deep space…
Oh.
She swallowed air and met his eyes, "So soon? You've only just met her."
"I do not often agree with human sentimentality, but in this I must. A parent knows their child when they see them, even if they did not create them."
There was a sheen of moisture irritating her eyes. If she just ignored it a moment longer, it wouldn't turn into tears, "Even if that child is a Cardassian?"
"Yes"
It was so matter-of-fact that it made Kathryn laugh. In the next moment she swiped at her cheek and grabbed the damned mug of coffee anyway, "What has T'Pel said about all of this?"
"It is true that T'Pel was skeptical at first. At my request, she acquiesced and agreed to spend a month with the child aboard the station. She has come to the same conclusion I have. We have raised children who can begin families with those who are not Vulcan; we can raise a child who is not Vulcan."
Silence settled as she drank her coffee and regained her composure. Tuvok, dear Tuvok, waited patiently as she did so.
"And Esket?"
"She has consented. In adopting her, we offer her a family. Parents who will outlive her, and siblings who will welcome her if we don't. I suspect she is aware that in adopting her, we have also given her you."
No matter how hard she tried, Kathryn could quite clear her throat.
"I don't know what to say."
Thank you didn't quite cover it.
"I have found that humans are capable of saying everything, without saying anything at all."
1. I want to be clear, and it's something that we'll get more information about later: Janeway grew to adore (Aaron) Cavit. In one alternate universe text, they shared drinks every day after shift. I like that idea and basically keep it here. The poor man got a bad reputation from 1) not liking Tom and 2) not bracing for impact, but I like the idea of him being a good First Officer.
2. Some of you will recognize Qrlthlmtrly (pronounced John) from the "Unlikely Affair". I basically consider him and P'ox canon in my head. They're two OCs I adored writing and see no reason to let go. Both will make an appearance in this story. No, you don't need to read the other story to get them. Yes, I think you should read the other story anyway. It isn't romance, for those who might be wary of Janeway/EMH. It's a comedy.
3. Mark? We find out his fate. I also like Mark and treat him well here.
4. I'm genuinely tickled by the image of Tuvok casually rolling by, stoically declaring he has a Cardassian daughter now, thank you very much. T'Pel just not-sighing-but-sighing, confirming that the child is, by all objective measures, theirs. Esket exists here for several reason a) a means to help us understand what happened during the Battle of Cardassia and the real effects it had, b) a means to have Cardassian storylines without having Cardassian shenanigans, and c) a means of growth for Tuvok. Tuvok is a very stable individual throughout Voyager, to the point that many of his storylines weren't really about him.