Disclaimer: Starfleet belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended.
Summary: In which our favorite command team find out that being a team is what they do best.

Terra Nova

by Mizvoy

Chapter 1: Triax Colony

Chakotay spent Saturday afternoons in the wood shop at the Triax community center making shelves and wooden toys for the colony’s childcare facility or furniture for the families’ homes or quarters. He loved doing things with his hands, and working with wood was completely different from his usual job of providing security and supervising transportation for the settlement. More importantly, the work kept his mind off of everything that had happened in the two years since Voyager’s return, all the losses he’d experienced and all the mistakes he’d made.

He was attaching wheels to a small pull train, a tedious job that required complete concentration. A piano concerto played softly and the late afternoon sunlight streamed through the open windows. The room was filled with the clean smell of wood and varnish and the distinctive aroma of coffee too long on the burner. At this late hour, everyone else had finished the day’s work, but Chakotay had one last train to complete before he was willing to move on. He’d have to return to his “real” job the next day, and he disliked leaving his work area cluttered with a half-finished project.

He looked up at the setting sun and redoubled his efforts. Tom and B’Elanna had invited him for dinner, and he’d have to leave soon or risk being late and suffering the half-Klingon woman’s wrath. He was humming contentedly with the music when he became aware of someone standing in the doorway.

He glanced up and saw that she was a petite older lady with gray hair, bright blue eyes, and a natural air of authority. For a split second, he thought Admiral Janeway had somehow been resurrected and brought to his workshop, but rational thought quickly prevailed. More likely, she was part of the Federation inspection team they had been expecting in the next day or two.

“Are you lost?” he asked, giving her a friendly smile.

“I don’t believe so,” she answered, walking into the shop and picking up one of his trains. “You make toys?”

He shook his head as she studied his work. He noticed the shape of her hands, her thin, long fingers with short unpolished nails. “I make lots of things. Today, I’m making toys. Sometimes I make furniture. Shelves. Kitchen tables and chairs. Headboards.”

She rolled the train on the table, smiling when it move smoothly. She had freckles, he noticed, faded now, but still visible on her nose and hands. “This is exceptionally good work. I wonder if I could purchase one for my grandson?”

“They aren’t for sale. But, I might be persuaded to make him one as a gift.”

She looked up suddenly, her eyes turning gray as she narrowed them, suddenly suspicious of his generosity. “Why would you do that for a stranger?”

He smiled. “We haven’t met, but we aren’t strangers. You’re Kathryn Janeway’s mother.”

She grinned at him quirking one side of her mouth up in a way that brought to mind the painful recollection of Kathryn’s crooked smile. “She showed you photos of us,” the woman deduced. “You recognize me from them.”

“Possibly. But more likely, it was the color of your eyes. And your hands. And your smile. They’re Kathryn’s.” He put down the toy he was working on and gestured at the table in the break area. “Won’t you come in and sit down?”

“Thank you.” She pulled a stool from under one of the tables and perched on it. “Is that coffee I smell?”

He chuckled. “It was coffee earlier today. I wouldn’t have the nerve to serve such sludge to a Janeway. I’ll make a fresh pot.”

“That would be kind of you.” She watched him as he rinsed out the pot, measured a generous amount of coffee into the basket, and poured in cold water. “Good. You aren’t chintzy with the coffee.”

“Kathryn threatened to throw me out an airlock when I made it too weak. I guessed you’d feel the same way.” He set out a couple of mugs and then sat across the table from her as the familiar aroma of brewing coffee filled the room. Holding out his hand, he said, “By the way, I’m Chakotay.”

She took his hand. “Yes, of course. I recognized you. And the woman at the visitor center said I’d probably find you here. Call me Gretchen.”

“Welcome to Triax Colony, Gretchen.” He paused a moment before pressing on. “You don’t mind my asking what you’re doing here.”

She laughed. “My daughter, Phoebe, and her husband live nearby, and I came for a visit. I decided to come and meet the members of the Voyager crew I missed.”

Chakotay frowned at the memory. “I regret sometimes that we left Earth so quickly. At the time, I just wanted to get away from the publicity and the constant pressure, but now I realize that we probably needed to stay longer, to allow more time for a sense of closure.”

Gretchen watched him retrieve the coffee. “I thought Kathryn should have insisted you stay a while longer. I told her so, but, she has a habit of hearing only the advice she wants to hear.”

“Oh, I know that,” he laughed, holding up the full pot. “Black?” At her nod, he filled the second cup and returned to the table. “She was furious with us for pleading guilty to the charges of terrorism, so angry that I’m surprised she didn’t insist that we leave the Federation altogether.”

She chuckled. “She does like to get her way. At least your service on Voyager served as your ‘punishment,'” Gretchen said, sipping the hot liquid. “This is good, just what I needed after that long flight. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat back, remembering his last conversation with Kathryn-his last argument with her. She had raged at him for his decision to plead guilty, because it meant that his tenuous standing in Starfleet was a moot point. No one with a criminal record could remain a Starfleet officer, and very few could find work anywhere near sector 001. When he’d left her office, she’d been in tears. He’d never seen her cry before, and the memory haunted him. “Where are you staying?”

“At the guest quarters,” she answered, nodding toward the building visible outside the windows. “I have a very nice room, thank you.”

“Kathryn didn’t come with you?”

“No.” Gretchen put a hand to her temple in a gesture that was so reminiscent of Kathryn that he felt another stab of remorse. “She hasn’t left the planet since Voyager returned except to attend the ceremony for Voyager’s decommissioning.”

This far from Earth, it was easy to lose track of events there. The furor over Voyager’s return had gradually cooled and Kathryn’s face and activities were no longer reported on the newsvids as they once had been. But, he’d watched that ceremony with interest and wished he could’ve been beside his captain at that sad event.

“I bet she hated for that to happen.”

“Oh, she did. She wanted Voyager back, I think, although she could never really have that, you know.”

He picked up on her tone of voice. “What do you mean?”

“She thinks she misses the ship, not its crew.” She finished the coffee, setting the mug down with a thump. “We all grieve in our own ways, Chakotay, and Kathryn is grieving deeply over the loss of her ship and crew. She’s completed her mission, she’s gotten the ship home, and now she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She needs another demanding job, but Starfleet isn’t sure they can trust her. So she simply works harder and waits.”

“Why can’t they trust her?” In his mind, it would be impossible not to trust Kathryn. After all, she was a Starfleet captain, and one of the best he’d ever met. He’d trusted her instinctively from the very first moment he met her. “If you can’t trust Kathryn Janeway, who can you trust?”

“My point, exactly. Although no one says so directly, I believe it’s because they blame her for Admiral Janeway’s disregard for the temporal prime directive.”

“That wasn’t our Kathryn. I met her, and Admiral Janeway was a completely different person! She was cynical, disillusioned, obsessed, and bitter. She tried her best to manipulate us into doing what she wanted, which was simply to get the ship home, but Kathryn resisted. She insisted that we get home only if we could damage the Borg, too.” He stopped to look at Gretchen, realizing that he was ranting. “The admiral was the result of an additional sixteen years in the Delta Quadrant that our Kathryn escaped. It is unfair to judge her that way.”

“Of course. That’s why they won’t admit that they’re doing it. But, they now know that Kathryn, in some timeline, is capable of such an action, so they distrust her in this one.”

He put his head in his hands. “Starfleet was everything to her. She must be completely disillusioned. What do they have her doing?”

“Analysis. I think she’s on year three of Voyager’s journey.”

He groaned. “That must be maddening after seven years of constant tension and excitement.”

“Maddening and lonely.”

Their conversation was interrupted by his comm badge, similar to the ones worn by Starfleet, but with the colony’s insignia of three interlocked triangles. “Torres to Chakotay. Dinner’s almost ready. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Chakotay,” Gretchen said, squeezing his hand. “I’m disrupting your plans.” She stood up to leave. “Perhaps we can talk more tomorrow.”

“Wait,” he said, stopping her with a gesture. “B’Elanna, I’m late because I have a very special visitor. Gretchen Janeway.”

There was a long pause. “The captain’s mother?”

“Yes. She’s here visiting family and dropped by to say hello.”

“Well, good grief, bring her along! Tom! The captain’s mother’s coming for dinner!” Chakotay smiled at the excitement in his friend’s voice. “Mrs. Janeway! Please, come have dinner with us. We have more than enough food, and we’ve always wanted to meet you!”

Gretchen blushed, but there was a familiar smile on her face. “I couldn’t impose like that.”

“But, you’re not imposing!” B’Elanna insisted. “We’re having Chakotay over for dinner, any way. I promise it’s no trouble. Please. Please come.”

Chakotay smiled at her. “They really mean it, Gretchen. It’s all right.” She nodded. “Okay, B’Elanna. I’ll bring her by on my way to my place to clean up, if that’s okay. I’m covered in sawdust.”

“That’s great, Chakotay. I’m so excited!”

The communication broken, Chakotay quickly stored his half-finished project in his work area, unplugged the coffeepot, and ushered the tiny woman out the door. “It’s only fair to warn you about their daughter, Miral. She’s one quarter Klingon, three quarters photon torpedo.”

Gretchen laughed. “My kind of girl!”

He watched the older woman quickly establish a friendly rapport with the Paris family before he excused himself and returned to his quarters to clean up. He’d showered and was in the process of shaving when the peculiarity of the situation hit him.

He’d talked to Kathryn not a month earlier via subspace, yet she hadn’t warned him of her mother’s impending visit, an oversight very unlike her. In fact, she hadn’t mentioned the fact that her mother was traveling to see Phoebe nor had she told him anything about her personal life. She asked him dozens of questions about his work and their friends, but she shrugged off the details of her life when he asked her, often terminating the commlink so quickly that he barely had time to tell her goodbye.

Why had Gretchen Janeway gone out of her way to find him? What was wrong with Kathryn?

To be continued