Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager and all things Starfleet belong to Paramount. No infringement intended.

Summary: Another take on the future following Endgame.

Safe Harbor

by Mizvoy

Chapter 9: Duty

“Pardon the interruption, Admiral.” Ensign Tim Connor stood half- hidden behind the office’s doorjamb. “I thought you might like to know that the transport is scheduled to arrive in less than an hour.”

Kathryn Janeway looked up from her computer console and frowned. Was her new administrative assistant actually hiding behind the door? “Thanks for the reminder, Ensign. I was hoping to finish this before it arrived, but . . . .” She noticed that the young man was backing into the darkness as she spoke. “Is something wrong?”

He stopped, embarrassed. “Oh, no, Admiral, nothing’s wrong.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. She wasn’t at all surprised by his hesitant attitude after her behavior during the last few weeks. She’d been impatient, demanding, and angry about common problems she usually took in stride. Today, for example, she’d snapped at him when a subspace connection had been interrupted, blamed him for losing a PADD that she’d misplaced herself, and accused him of being in some way responsible for scheduling the monthly family picnic on a particularly inconvenient Saturday afternoon.

“I owe you an apology, Ensign,” she said, hoping to repair their frayed relationship. “My behavior’s been inexcusable. I promise I’ll be better on Monday.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He withdrew farther. He’d no doubt been warned about petulant, irrational admirals and wasn’t about to take her at her word. “Unless there’s something else, ma’am, I’ll go make sure the new quarters are ready.”

“Fine, go ahead. I’ll see you at the landing port.”

“Yes, Admiral,” came a disembodied voice from the front office. “See you there.”

“But not if you see me first,” she muttered, angry with herself for turning into the kind of difficult admiral she’d always hated. She deactivated her computer and walked to the window to check on the weather: grey skies, bright sun, and a soft, warm breeze, a perfect day on Mars.

She knew her staff blamed her bad moods on her tendency to work too hard, on her long hours, late nights, busy weekends, but she worked fewer hours here than she did when she was commanding Voyager and the pressure was much less intense. They didn’t realize that her life had always revolved around her work, and that she could put in vast amounts of time without becoming grumpy and impatient. Because she was an admiral, they made excuses for her, gave her the benefit of the doubt, tiptoed around her as if she were a time bomb.

Somebody needed to stand up to her, to tell her to knock it off, to stop taking her bad attitude out on everyone else. Chakotay had always done it on Voyager, but, of course, he wasn’t here, and that was the real root of the problem.

She should have seen this bad mood coming, she realized. She’d always used the excuse of Starfleet protocol to preclude a relationship with Chakotay on Voyager, but she’d also suspected that there was a powerful attraction between them that once loosed would not be denied. He would’ve been a distraction to her, his proximity a constant temptation for escape, for relaxation, for settling down on some nice blue planet and forgetting about home.

So, why had she thought that things would be different now? The voice of her older self, the Admiral who had brought them home, came into her head. “I know better than you do how you feel,” she’d warned Kathryn when they spoke of her affection for Chakotay. Indeed.

She remembered the night, or early morning, of their first kiss. In spite of the constant moan of the wind and the steady pelting of ice and sand on the building, she heard nothing but the pounding of her heart as she pulled away from their light kiss. Chakotay had taken a deep breath, his eyes dark with undisguised passion.

“We should think this through, Kathryn,” he’d said. “You’ll be leaving in just a few weeks. How will we handle being apart?”

She hadn’t wanted to hear it and stood up, settling into his lap and nestling her face into his neck. Six weeks seemed like an eternity to her. Besides, separations were a matter of course for Starfleet officers. Hadn’t she spent weeks and months away from her fiancés in the past? “We’ll face that when the time comes.”

“Even so,” he persisted, struggling to keep control of his emotions, “our relationship will be changed forever. Are you ready for that?”

“Chakotay, I’ve loved you for years, yet I’ve never allowed myself the pleasure of your touch. This has been inevitable from the first day we met.”

“I love you, too.” He’d brought his hand up to cradle her cheek, and suddenly everything had seemed clear to her. They had been moving toward this moment for years, step by step, and now, looking back, everything made sense, every event fell into place. She was doing this because she loved him, because she wanted him, because she needed him in her life. This is right, she thought as he kissed her, so right. She was powerless to stop it.

She brought herself back to the present, concentrating on the new team members arriving on the transport. After months of negotiating and beseeching, Kathryn had finally convinced Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres to join the Slipstream team. They and their three children were being quartered on Mars, so B’Elanna could work with the engineering crew on the orbiting Utopia Planetia facility and Tom could test preliminary designs of a new slipstream ship configurations.

They were arriving just in time to attend the family barbecue in Marin County the next afternoon. Normally, Kathryn looked forward to these informal get-togethers. She loved meeting the spouses and children of her crew and creating a warm sense of community and mutual support for the stressful days that were sure to come as the slipstream project unfolded. She just wished it had not been scheduled for this particular Saturday.

She sighed and headed for her private bathroom where she freshened her makeup. At least with Tom and B’Elanna there, she would feel like she had family of her own at the barbecue. She remembered walking into the party the previous month, a clambake on a white sand beach. She’d arrived a little late, as usual, only to have a young child point at her and comment, “Why does that lady always come by herself? Where’s her family?”

The child’s mortified mother apologized repeatedly as the night wore on, in spite of Kathryn’s assurances that her feelings were not hurt, and that, in fact, she appreciated the boy’s honesty.

“He can’t imagine,” his mother explained, “how anyone could live without a family.”

“I can’t imagine it, either,” she’d replied, smiling down at the boy. “I have a family,” she reassured him, “but just not with me right now.”

How had she done it, all these years? How had she survived without the love and support of a family? “You think you’re complete within your own skin,” the admiral had warned her. “The Consummate Captain.”

Once, when she’d thought of family, she’d envisioned her parents and her sister. Then, she’d thought of her fiancés, first Justin and later Mark, and their future marriages, the possibility of children. During her years in the Delta Quadrant, she’d viewed Voyager’s crew members as her family. She’d loved them maternally, protectively, until they, too, had no longer needed her and had gone on their way. And now?

She studied her image in the mirror as she brushed her hair. She’d been irritable recently, a real pain to her staff, but that would soon change. Once the team was complete, once everyone arrived safely, she’d relax more, feel better about her work, travel less. The job of setting up her team, spread from Earth, to Mars, to Jupiter, had meant that she was often on the move. Now that Tom and B’Elanna were arriving, the teams were in place and fully staffed; Kathryn could truly home base from San Francisco.

She wandered back into her office and stretched out on the sofa, letting her imagination take her to her “safe” place. Once, it had been a lush, green planet, a handmade bathtub, and a chattering monkey. New Earth had been a paradise she’d never forget and one that had sustained her through many years of struggle. But now, she imagined a completely different location. She saw a tiny cabin huddled against unbelievable cold, she saw three rooms that were cozy and warm, she saw warm brown eyes and dimples. If New Earth had been paradise, the “snow camp,” as they’d come to call it, had been bliss.

Even when the U.S.S. Redoubt had appeared in orbit over the camp to rescue the admiral, Kathryn refused to let herself think about the emotional impact of what was happening. It would do neither of them any good to become emotional. Neither she nor Chakotay had considered for a moment the possibility of staying together once the winter ended.

Kathryn had her duties to perform as the team leader for the Slipstream drive, an important job, a coveted reward for a long, successful Starfleet career. Chakotay was literally in the middle of an important archeological dig and needed to spend another full summer season to complete it. They knew and accepted the limits on their time together without complaint, as good Starfleet officers would do. Six weeks of togetherness was an unexpected luxury they weren’t going to question.

That last night, they’d finished dinner and were reading in companionable silence when the comm system beeped with an incoming subspace message. The storms were still too heavy for a message from Dorvan V to punch through the interference, but an orbiting Starfleet vessel would use a focused subspace beam directed toward their receiver. They both knew at once who was calling.

“I’ll get that,” she’d said, heading for the study. “It’s probably for me.”

Five minutes later, she’d downloaded and refined the signal so that the snowy image of a Starfleet officer appeared on the screen. “I’m Captain Janice Grey of the U.S.S. Redoubt in orbit over Dorvan IV. Our sensors indicate an upcoming lull in the weather that will allow us to send a shuttle to the surface. We’ll give you a two-hour notice of our arrival. We’re looking forward to meeting you, Admiral, and providing you a safe trip back to Starfleet command. Grey out.”

Kathryn knew that Chakotay could hear the message as she played it, and she also knew that he’d accept her departure as a matter of course. She returned to the lounge and picked up her book. “I’ll organize my things when I get ready for bed,” she’d said, and Chakotay had nodded in assent.

The night had progressed as all others had before them, with the two taking turns in the shower, sharing a last cup of tea, and finally crawling into bed together. Kathryn pillowed her head on Chakotay’s shoulder, as she always did, and Chakotay put his arm around her, pulling her close, putting his cheek against her hair. She fought back a surge of despair that threatened to suffocate her. How could she leave him?

“I scanned the weather while you were in the shower,” he said into the intimate darkness, where it was always easier to talk about difficult topics. “I think the window Captain Grey was talking about will be here between 0600 and 0800 tomorrow.”

“So soon?” She was surprised to hear the note of sorrow in her voice. “I hate to leave you here alone.”

“The team will start arriving in a week or so. In the meantime, I’ll be busy getting the rest of the camp out of mothballs.” His voice was soft, controlled, but she sensed the turmoil beneath it.

They held each other in silence until Kathryn lifted her head from his chest and rolled over so she could look down into his face. The air between them was thick with electricity as they realized this would be their last night together for many months. There was no way to know when they would be together again.

“I love you, Chakotay.” A tear splashed down from her eye to his cheek.

“I love you, too, Kathryn.” His voice choked as he spoke.

She lowered her face to his, stopping just short of a kiss, breathing in his warm breath, staring into his dark eyes. It seemed as if she saw her own self looking back at her, as if the boundaries between them blurred and disappeared, creating a new being that was a combination of them both. The feeling was compelling, intoxicating, impossible to resist. They kissed and a feeling of warmth suffused them both, their hearts pounding, the world fading away as they drowned in each other.

Later that night, as they’d spooned together in the afterglow of their lovemaking, they’d promised to send messages to each other, and they’d agreed to meet somewhere as soon as they could get away.

“You’ve just taken a three-month vacation,” he’d reminded her. “You’ll have to wait awhile before taking more leave. That is, if you can consider your time here a vacation.”

“Better than a vacation,” she’d answered, her voice a whisper. “I’d love to meet you next year. Name the time and place. Risa. Vulcan. A subspace relay station. Anywhere.”

They’d slept little, preferring to spend their last hours talking and holding each other. When the two-hour warning came through at 0500, they’d been lying awake in silence waiting for it, but it wasn’t until Kathryn emerged from the sleeping alcove in a newly-replicated Starfleet uniform that the reality of her departure hit home.

“I’m proud of you, Kathryn,” Chakotay had said as he’d brushed her long hair back from her face. “This new uniform looks good on you.” His eyes had been sad as he looked her up and down. “If anyone can perfect the slipstream drive, it’s you.”

“My biggest motivation will be to put Earth that much closer to Dorvan V,” she’d replied, tears in her eyes.

He’d put his arms around her in a gentle embrace, careful not to muss her hair or makeup. “I’ve never kissed a woman in an admiral’s uniform, you know.” She’d lifted her face to his for a soft kiss just as they heard the whine of the shuttle’s approach.

The young lieutenant pilot treated Kathryn like a rare tropical flower. Chakotay had struggled to keep from laughing as Kathryn endured, with barely restrained irritation, the young man’s obvious hero worship. They’d left immediately to take advantage of the lull in the weather, and, as the ship had lifted off, she’d refused to look back, afraid she’d embarrass herself by bursting into tears in front of the pilot.

Even now, months later, Kathryn still reacted strongly to the memory of that special night. She’d been in love before and was hardly a naïve teenager, but she’d never experienced such a profound emotional bond in her life. Every boundary gone, every barrier forgotten, they’d submitted themselves completely to the other, holding nothing back, submerging their individuality in their mutual passion. The thought of it made it hard for her to breath, and she closed her eyes in concentration as she struggled to slow her racing heartbeat.

“Admiral? Admiral Janeway?” Kathryn opened her eyes to find her executive officer, Captain Seamus Reilly, smiling down at her. “Sorry to wake you up, but the transport’s arriving in five minutes.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she protested, sitting up. “Are we too late to greet the new team members?”

“Not if we hurry.” He held out his hand. “I think you should head home early and get some rest this weekend. You’ll feel better.”

She smiled to herself, thinking that he really meant she’d be in a better mood. She wondered what he’d think if she confessed that she, an experienced admiral in her fifties, was actually love sick. “I’ll think about it,” she replied, taking his arm. “But, no promises.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you work too hard?”

She laughed. “Oh, yes. Commander Chakotay, my first officer on Voyager, was quite the nag. He told me that I worked too many hours, that I didn’t eat right, that I drank too much coffee, that I needed more exercise, more sleep, more of a social life. On and on.”

Reilly laughed. “And you didn’t throw him in the brig?”

“He was usually right, and I knew it.” At the man’s look of astonishment, she smiled. “He was also very tactful.”

“And handsome, as I recall. Maybe I should start nagging you, Admiral.”

She gave him a pointed look. “No thanks, Seamus. After seven years of harping, I still hear Chakotay’s voice in my head.”

Later that afternoon, after the Paris family had been joyously greeted and taken to their new home, B’Elanna Torres walked her former captain to the shuttle port.

“Thanks for getting our quarters set up for us, Admiral,” she said. “It was nice to be able to put the boys down for a nap in a real bed right away.”

“Most of the thanks should go to Ensign Connor, but you’re welcome. I promised I’d make your decision to come here worth your while. I feel much better about our chances with the slipstream drive now that you and Tom are part of the team.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. It’s a great chance for the kids to spend some quality time with Tom’s family, too.” They walked in comfortable silence before B’Elanna worked up the nerve to discuss the topic that they had been wondering about for nearly a year. She decided on an indirect approach. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Chakotay is, would you?”

Kathryn looked surprised. “Is he lost?”

“Sort of. When they finally finished disassembling the camp three weeks ago, we expected him to return to his position at the university and then move back into his house on Dorvan V. Instead, he breezed through for a week or so, resigned his professorship, and disappeared on a shuttle for DS9 without telling anyone where he was going.”

“That doesn’t sound like Chakotay. He left without telling anyone anything?”

“Well, he told his sister not to worry if she didn’t hear from him for awhile.”

Kathryn laughed. “Then, don’t get worried yet. You’ve been to Dorvan IV, haven’t you? Imagine being trapped there for over a year. Who could blame him for wanting to travel for awhile?”

“But he resigned his professorship!”

“Maybe he wants to write more than he wants to teach.” She stopped and put her arm around the worried woman’s shoulders. “He’s a big boy, B’Elanna, and if he wants some time to himself, who are we to question that?”

B’Elanna narrowed her eyes. “You know, when you took off for Dorvan IV, Tom wanted to restart the old betting pool.”

“The betting pool?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know about the betting pool on Voyager.”

“I knew about several, B’Elanna, although I though Chakotay had squelched most of them.” She walked steadily toward the ramp to the shuttle pad, B’Elanna trailing behind.

“Oh, he did. Except for the one about you and Chakotay. That one had a life of its own.”

Kathryn turned to face the engineer and shook her head. “Some people never give up, do they?” When the other woman stayed silent, Kathryn continued, “I was trapped at the camp by the avalanche, B’Elanna. It took weeks for me to recuperate from my injuries. I had no ulterior motive for going there other than seeing my best friend.”

“Yeah, but . . . things happen when you’re all alone on a planet, trying to stay warm in subzero temperatures.”

Kathryn looked at the younger woman standing there with her arms crossed. “So, how much to you have riding on this pool, B’Elanna?”

“It isn’t winning the betting pool that I care about, Kathryn. I just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

Kathryn was touched and looked away, her eyes hooded. “Thanks for caring. It really means a lot to both of us that our crew is concerned for our welfare.” She glanced toward the shuttle deck. “Look, I’m expecting someone in San Francisco, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave right now. I’ll see you tomorrow at the party and we’ll talk more then.” She gave B’Elanna a quick hug and raced down the ramp toward the landing area, her assistant waving to her from the door of the shuttle.

“By refusing to answer the question, you’re answering the question, you know,” B’Elanna shouted after her.

“What question, B’Elanna?” she shouted back as she trotted toward the shuttle, a smile on her face. “I didn’t hear a question!”

“Damn it.” B’Elanna watched Kathryn disappear into the shuttle and waved as it lifted off for Earth. Why hadn’t she just come out and asked her about Chakotay? “She knows more than she’s telling, and Tom’s never going to forgive me for not finding out the truth!”

Kathryn collapsed into a seat in the passenger compartment of the shuttle just as the pilot finished the preflight checklist. Ensign Conner swiveled in the copilot’s seat to face her. “Would you like some coffee, Admiral?”

She grinned. He was getting to know her preferences just fine. “Just leave the pot.”

As the shuttle lifted off, she pulled a PADD from her bag and recalled a cryptic message she’d received early that morning in her private mail, her pulse jumping as the two words appeared:

“Tonight. Chakotay.”