As this is an alternate universe story, I have played around with the years...and I've also gone back and adjusted them in part two, so it all fits.
I hope you enjoy this story, whether you are classic fanfic, or uber fans. This falls somewhere in between, I think.
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Of course, Annika's lecture is brilliant, insightful, and controversial. I can hear murmurs, and sounds of admiration, but also virtual gasps when Annika nudges what the older among my peers recognize as illegal—or at the very least immoral—conclusions.
Studying Annika's serene expression, I wonder if she notices the reactions from her audience. She is deeply engrossed in the subject of how augmentation is done by cybernetic enhancement when our eyes meet. I know she's been aware of my presence from the moment she took to the dais, but now, when two male voices huff so loudly, there is unrest among her fellow cadets in the far back, she presses her lips together.
"There will be time for a Q toward the end of my lecture," Annika says as her gaze shifts to the men a few rows behind me. I discreetly turn my head and spot the men, both of them lieutenant commanders, shaking their heads. They're not old, obviously, but they roll their eyes at Annika's words. I make a mental note to make it my business to find out who they are. I'm not sure why, but it bothers me that they show so little consideration for a brilliant cadet. That could be it. I suffered jealousy from some of my peers when I went for command, but as the captain of a starship lost in the Delta Quadrant, some 70,000 lightyears away, I had other things to consider. Keeping us alive, for instance. And the truth was, I had no problem with maintaining the command structure, even when it came to the early days. Even the maquis recognized we had to work together, and someone had to be in charge.
Annika stands ramrod straight and delivers the last of her lecture without stumbling on a single word, and when she's done, the nosebleed section hollers, the invited civilians and the brass—Gods, which means me too—and a full two rows of captains, applaud her.
"Now, sir, you were eager to ask me a question." Annika keeps her eyes on the two men in the third row. "I'll do my best to simplify my answer."
"Damn." Admiral Paris snorts and I see his shoulders bob as he tries to contain his mirth. "Dan Bolton has no idea what she can do, obviously."
"You know of Cadet Hansen?" I turn to Paris and study his expression. His smile spreads across his face, and I can tell he not only knows of her, but he also approves.
"I do. I sponsored her application to the academy. She wasn't an obvious candidate, but her work, as well as her motivation, was solid."
"You're playing with fire," one of them men behind us says. "You mention Khan Noonien Sing in your lecture, but you fail to acknowledge how dangerous his augmentation made him and his scientist followers."
"I'm still waiting for a question," Annika says calmly. "Or are you trying to place me in the same category as a man who posed a threat not only to humanity the Federation, but to all humanoids?" She raises her left eyebrow again.
"Of course not. I must trust the process of the academy acceptance committee for vetting its cadets properly." The man clears his throat.
"And damn again. Is Dan really this stupid? I don't want to interfere, but he needs to dial it back. This is not one of his academy classes." Paris tips his head back and sighs.
I've had enough. Standing up, I cringe as I wait until some very cheerful cadets stop applauding at me. "This leads to nowhere fast, Commander Bolton." I send him my best eviscerating look and then take a moment to enjoy the man blanching. Good. "Cadet Hansen, I can't be the only one who is curious why you chose this particular topic for your thesis and, I would assume, continued work."
Annika misses a beat, but it's barely noticeable. "Thank you for your question, Admiral Janeway. I'll try to be brief." Stepping away from the podium, Annika walks toward me, stopping just short of the edge of the stage. "When I was four years old, I went to live with my aunt. My parents, Lieutenant Commanders Erin and Magnus Hansen, had received the funds and went ahead to research a mythical species called the Borg. Even before Captain Jean-Luc Picard's interaction with the Q, and the massacre at Wolf 359, my parents found they had compelling evidence of a collective of cybernetic beings." Annika takes another step closer. "The Federation funded their mission mostly because my father was simply not going to give up. They left Deep Space 5 in late 2354. I was four, and after a year of intermittent communication, neither the Federation nor my aunt and I, ever heard from my parents again. Until 2367, when I was seventeen and on a recreational cruise on a starship with my aunt. The vacation was a gift from my aunt to me, as I had graduated early with honors."
"This is being brief? Please." the man sitting next to Dan Bolton sneered.
The booing from the entire student body present followed his comment made him shrink back long before I had time to summon security to drag him out of the auditorium.
"Go on, Cadet Hansen." Admiral Paris motioned Annika to continue.
"Thank you." Annika still focuses on me. "We were among the ships attacked at Wolf 359. I had expressed a desire to join Starfleet, and my aunt had arranged for us to be guided around the U.S.S. Saratoga. That's when the Borg attacked. I was shoved into an escape pod. My aunt died when the Saratoga went under."
There is utter silence in the auditorium. I nod and my heart is beating very fast. I have been into so many battles with the Borg. I still fear them. Anyone who doesn't is a fool.
"In the aftermath, when the U.S.S Enterprise scanned the debris for anything that would give them valuable intel, they came upon Borg archives with comprehensive lists of assimilated individuals. The only reason I know this is because Counselor Troi found the correlation between the survivor data and these lists. Obtaining permission to share it with me, she showed me the records stating that my parents were assimilated four years after their departure."
Murmurs rolled like storm clouds, from one row to the next until it reached the section up along the ceiling. I can't fathom the information and how Annika can stay so poised and serene-looking when she's talking about the assimilation of her parents.
"A tragic story," Bolton says, "but it's never a good thing to approach science from a personal perspective. I can understand that you need to find out about your parents, but where are the benefits to your fellow humans? Or even just to Star Fleet?"
I turn and see the smug smile and only the sharp tug at my sleeve from Admiral Paris stops me from driving my fist into Bolton's very punchable face. "You forget yourself, Commander," I hiss. "I find is surprising that you, at your rank, have forgotten about how important passion and diligence is to science and how we perform our research. Without passion, there is nothing to help us through the times when we feel we have stagnated. I urge you to respect your cadets and their passion for their work. Being a mentor is not the equivalent of heckling them in public." I catch myself and must smile, which sets of another wave of murmurs. "I imagine you can argue that I'm doing exactly that right now, but I also happen to believe in the method of speaking to people in the language to which they are accustomed. So, back off." I sit down and hope I haven't screwed up Annika's career by antagonizing part of the Star Fleet faculty.
I look up in surprise when Admiral Paris stands and begins applauding. He's turned toward Annika but also winks down at me. I know he is partial when it comes to me, since Voyager brought his son back to him in more ways than one. I was the captain of the ship that stranded Tom in the Delta Quadrant for seven years, but according to Owen Paris, Tom came back having found his stride, and he has matured—well, I wouldn't go that far. Tom Paris's boyish way would stay with him until the day he died, but he was a good husband and father these days.
The rest of the auditorium applauds Annika's presentation as if she is a celebrity star, and I find it endearing when she sends me a bewildered look before she once again raises her chin and then takes a brief bow.
When she leaves the stage, two sets of young scientists present their promising work, but it can't be easy for them to follow the brilliance—and the drama—that tinged Annika's presentation.
When all the lights come on, Admiral Paris escorts me to the large courtyard where we are supposed to network and mingle, possibly even mentor someone we find a connection with.
"I believe you need a bodyguard, Kathryn," Owen says close to my ear. "You're bound to get mobbed out there. You won't even have time to eat."
"As long as there's black coffee, I'm fine." I pat his arm. "I think I can hold people off if they get too enthusiastic."
I grab a large mug of coffee and withdraw to a corner of the courtyard where palm trees of different heights provide ample camouflage. I study the way the ocean of people mills back and forth, looking up the person they want to talk to and then moving on. Admiral Paris is popular, and so is Annika. When she starts showing signs of something between panic and annoyance, I reach out and take her by the wrist as she passes my palm trees.
"Oh! Oh. Kathryn. I mean, Admiral Janeway." Annika stands at attention and her gaze is firmly directed to a spot just above my eyebrows.
"Just Kathryn when we're in private, Annika." I loathe standing on ceremony and it's one of the things I detest the most after returning. I kept a tight ship, but not in absurdum. "I can't be sure, but I thought you needed rescuing. At least to get a chance to breathe and have something to eat."
"You're not wrong." Annika sighs and leans against the stem of one of the palm trees. "I'm used to working alone, and this…" She waves toward the throngs of people, some of them looking around them, probably searching for her. "As flattering as it is that people seem to be curious about my work, I can't help but feel there is a measure of sensationalism mixed into their attention."
"That, yes, perhaps." I want to reach out and loosen one of her locks that is stuck against her com badge. "Don't sell yourself short, though. Your work speaks for itself—or should, for anyone taking the time to immerse themselves in it. Something I look forward to. I find your reason for going into this field and expanding on it, understandable and compelling."
Annika's beautiful features relax, and a faint smile curve her lips. "Thank you, Ad—Kathryn." She unclenches her hands. "After the reception and mingling," Annika continued and managed to make the last word sound foul, "I'm heading back for my computer laboratory." She hesitated. "I know you must be busy, but if you ever want to visit and observe my methods, you're welcome to do so."
"Thank you." Delighted, as I was truly mesmerized by this woman, I went over my schedule in my head. "I'm free after 1515 hours. Will you still be there?"
"I will." Coloring faintly, Annika nodded. "And as my, hm, colleagues, are most often prioritizing other things then, I have the facility to myself. At least until 1800 hours when I have to leave. I have a performance booked tonight."
The tingles in my stomach that fall slowly down my abdomen and fall like rain down between my legs and the inside of my thighs, take me completely by surprise. "Oh?" I arrange my features into something I hope resembles mild interest. "A closed venue again, or…?"
"A piano bar at a hotel by the waterfront." Annika tilts her head. "Do you wish to attend, since you ask?"
I'm caught. I bite my lower lip and then nod. "I enjoy your artistry. You're amazing when you perform."
"You're kind to say so." Annika reaches out and pulls me into the corner where it's so dark, I can barely make out the reflections in her eyes and the shine in her golden-blond hair. "And I admit I have ulterior motives. When I saw you in the auditorium today, it was all I could do not to blush."
"You were very discreet," I murmur, and I'm not going to pretend to misunderstand. "Are you going to kiss me again, Annika?"
"If you insist." There's a smile in Annika's voice and a breathlessness that I recognize in my reaction. "Is that what you want?"
"Damn straight." I step well into her personal space and her arms wrap around me and hold me closer for a few, long moments. Then her lips are on mine and she's not playing coy. Her tongue is in my mouth and I'm greedy for it. I want this, and I want her, and only the fact that we're in a place where someone might step around the palm trees at any moment, keeps me from indulging in anything else by the kisses.
When we finally part, and we only do so because people's laughter is approaching, I feel the loss of her kisses acutely. Then I feel something being pressed into my hand—a tissue.
"We were both wearing lipstick. We are bound to share the same color by now." There's amusement in her voice now.
"Good thinking," I mutter as I wipe my mouth and skin around it.
"We need to mingle and network some more," Annika says. "I think I can stomach it now when there is a chance of seeing you again later."
"Likewise." I squeeze her hand, but the brief touch is dangerous enough and I simply turn on my heel and walk away. My entire system objects and I force myself to round the palm trees and then I make a beeline for the restroom. There, I reapply some lipstick, and in a strange, heartbreaking moment, I feel like I'm erasing every trace of Annika. When I look the part of the newly promoted Admiral Janeway, I, much like Annika, take solace in the fact that nothing can keep me from visiting her workstation—and later, the piano bar.
Continued in part 4