TTB – Chapter 2

Ties that Bind

by mizvoy

PART 2

Two weeks later after Part 1: three months after “Workforce,” and just before the final scene of “Homestead”

“Why can’t you just use the same kind of maturation chamber the Borg use?” Neelix wondered as he studied the working plans on Seven’s computer.

“The Borg begin the process with babies or young children, not embryos. We’re actually attempting to construct an artificial womb,” Seven of Nine answered. “They also make extensive use of cybernetic implants in the infant’s body, which is something we want to avoid.”

“Absolutely,” the Talaxian agreed with a shudder.

“Also, the chamber requires a great deal of power, more than we can reliably provide if the ship comes under attack, and so we need to find a way to reduce it.”

“That’s a difficult problem.” He frowned at the complicated design. “I thought B’Elanna and the captain would be helping you design this.”

“Lieutenant Torres helps when she can, but I think Chakotay prefers not to involve the captain in the project.”

“That’s odd, don’t you think? Not only is she an excellent scientist, she’s one of his best friends.”

“I’m unsure of the exact nature of their disagreement. Perhaps the captain disapproves of our attempt to develop a maturation chamber.”

Neelix frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the captain I know.”

“I do know that the issue is fraught with emotion. Perhaps she fears that the power supply used by the chamber will put the ship in danger, or perhaps she doesn’t want another child born on the ship. Whatever it is, Chakotay refuses to discuss the captain with me. Most of the time, we focus on our research.”

“I see.” Neelix crossed his arms and studied the star field that was on the huge screen of the astrometrics lab. Thinking back over the last few weeks, he realized that hadn’t seen the command team together as much as usual and wondered whether it had been a disagreement over the maturation chamber that had come between them. He couldn’t imagine that the captain would begrudge Chakotay his own child and suspected that there was something else causing the rift between them.

Only time would tell, he supposed, as he made a mental note to observe the situation more closely. In the meantime, he was curious about this new relationship that was blossoming between the former drone and the first officer. “So you and the commander have been working on this project all by yourselves?”

“For the most part, whenever we have time to do so. Actually, I’ve been the one doing most of the work, since Borg technology isn’t the commander’s area of expertise. However, he seems to enjoy doing whatever he can to assist me. He’s anxious to have the child born.”

“I’m sure he is. Fortunately, the embryo is in stasis, so there’s no hurry about completing the work.”

“Correct. And we want to be satisfied that the chamber will work properly for the entire eight months that remain in the gestation period before we attempt to use it.”

“Eight whole months? Why so long? It didn’t take One that long to mature.”

“Not only was One Borg, he was from the twenty-ninth century,” Seven replied, as if that explained everything.

“I guess you and the commander are getting along better now that you’re working together?”

Seven froze, obviously embarrassed, and then replied, “He seems grateful for my help, and we have developed a much better rapport.”

Neelix grinned with delight. “I’ve seen the two of you in the mess hall quite often in recent weeks, and not just while you’re working on the chamber, I suspect. I wondered if you’d considered pursuing a more intimate relationship with him.”

“Are you playing matchmaker again?” she said as she raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard others say that since you’ve met Dexa, you’ve been encouraging everyone to begin a romantic relationship.”

“Well, that might be part of it,” he laughed, looking a little sheepish. “I guess I want everyone to be as happy as I am. I know what it’s like to be alone, Seven. I’ve been lonely since Kes and I ended our romance, and I know you’ve been lonely, too. When you have a chance to get to know someone better, don’t pass it up. Those chances come along only so often.”

She looked up from her console with interest. “How, exactly, would one proceed?”

The Talaxian nearly quivered with delight. “I could make some suggestions, if you’d like.”

“I would appreciate your suggestions, but you’re leaving the ship in less than twenty-four hours.”

“True, but I’ll be in contact with Voyager for the next six or seven weeks. With any luck, your relationship will be well established by the time you’re out of range.”

“Very well,” the former drone nodded. “Perhaps you can suggest an activity that would be appropriate for a first date.”

“Absolutely! In fact, I’ll give you suggestions for the first ten dates!”

A few hours later

Neelix cleaned up the galley for the last time and walked into the darkened lounge area of the mess hall, only to find the captain relaxing in the lounge area, a coffee mug on the table in front of her. She was comfortably sprawled on the sofa, and, since he couldn’t tell if she were awake or asleep, Neelix approached her quietly. “Captain? Is there something you need?”

She smiled up at him and shook her head. “Just another sleepless night in the Delta Quadrant, that’s all.”

“You should be drinking herbal tea or warm milk, not coffee.”

She grinned. “Actually, that’s chamomile tea.”

Neelix sat down across from her. “I hope my imminent departure isn’t adding to your worries. I feel certain that Mr. Chell will do an excellent job in the galley, especially if Tal Celes helps out now and then.”

“Although it will be a challenge, we’ll adjust to your absence.” She rested her head on her hand and looked around the empty room. “I bet you’ve observed some interesting events in here over the last seven years-both public and private-and yet you seldom gossip about the crew. I know everyone has appreciated your discretion. Maybe you could make some suggestions about diplomacy to Mr. Chell.”

“Oh, I’ve talked to him, but experience is the best teacher. I think he’ll learn, in time, that he’s much like a bartender. People tend to tell the cook what’s on their mind, but if they find out that he’s not trustworthy, they’ll stop confiding in him.”

“A tough lesson for a Bolian to learn, I imagine.” She gave him a fond look. “I want you to know that you’ve been as valuable to me as any other member of the crew. In fact, I think your work as morale officer was an essential ingredient in the feeling of family among us, and you’re willingness to serve as ambassador has smoothed diplomatic relations with more than one alien species along the way.”

“I appreciate that, Captain. My time here has been wonderful, and I’m happy to say that I only have one regret.”

“What’s that?”

“I wish I could stay long enough to see the new babies when they’re born.”

Janeway closed her eyes and gently rubbed her forehead. “The babies.”

He decided to take advantage of the rare opportunity to talk to her about this particular topic, for it had been on his mind for the last several weeks. “Captain, I can’t help but sense that you are less than enthusiastic about the upcoming births.”

“It’s an added complication, I’ll admit that.”

“Are you upset about the extra trouble that the infants will require?”

She shook her head. “It isn’t that, exactly. It’s just a drastic change, and another demand on Voyager’s limited resources.”

“I think you underestimate how much the crew will benefit from their presence. Have you forgotten how much the crew has enjoyed Naomi?”

“Of course not. Naomi has been a wonderful addition to our crew.”

“Everything worth having comes with a price.”

She looked up at him thoughtfully, a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re so right. Everything, good or bad, comes with a price, Neelix, and we’re forced to pay it whether we want to or not.”

“If you aren’t concerned about the extra trouble,” he began, carefully feeling his way along, “then what is it about the babies that has upset you?”

“Who says I’m upset about the babies?” she demanded, sitting up to face him directly, her temper flaring. “I know that we’ll find a way to care for them and house them and educate them, and I’m convinced the babies will create an even stronger bond between us, just as Naomi did.” She stood up and walked past him to the windows, anxious to hide the pain his question had brought her. “I’ve always believed that Voyager would become a generational ship if we were out here long enough.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t want them, Captain, and no one appreciates Naomi more than I do. It’s just that many of us sense that you’re . . . well, maybe we’re just overreacting.”

“No, please,” she faced him, her hands gripped tightly behind her back. “Tell me what you’ve sensed in my behavior. If I’ve done something to make the crew doubt that I support having these children with us, then I need to know, and the sooner the better.”

“What I’ve noticed is that you’ve distanced yourself from the entire process, as if you aren’t interested and don’t want to be involved.”

“Distanced myself?”

“The captain I know would have contacted each of the prospective parents and met with them personally to reassure them that every necessary accommodation would be made for their pregnancies and to tell them that the ready room door is open if they need anything whatsoever.”

Janeway blinked, a little surprised that she hadn’t thought of doing something like that. “You have a point. I will meet with each one, Neelix, just as soon as I can.”

“Perhaps the problem is that you’re conflicted about what’s happened.”

“Conflicted?”

He shifted slightly in his seat. The captain seldom discussed her personal life with anyone, and she usually deflected questions about her private life with an ice cold stare. He knew he was on thin ice, but his imminent departure made him bolder than usual. “Captain, am I wrong to think that you always hoped to have children of your own?”

His words hit her hard, and for a panicked moment, she thought she might faint, but then her head cleared and she gave him a stern look. “Your point?”

“I guessing that you wouldn’t have minded if you’d been one of the women who became pregnant on Quarra.”

Her head spinning, Janeway reached for the support strut by the window, leaning against it as she waited to regain her balance. “No, Neelix, you’re wrong. I decided years ago that I couldn’t be captain of this ship and a mother at the same time.”

“Hmmm.” Neelix, who had twisted on the sofa to face her, was obviously unconvinced. “I thought that might be the reason why you haven’t been involved in . . . oh, never mind.”

“Why I haven’t been involved in what?” she demanded.

“Seven told me that you haven’t provided any input whatsoever into the chamber she’s designing for Chakotay’s baby, and I wondered why you weren’t more interested-.”

His comments were interrupted by a sudden lurch as the ship changed speed, and then, a second later, by the intercom.

“Tuvok to Janeway.”

Relief flooded through her as she replied, “Go ahead, Commander.”

“You asked to be informed if the port injectors failed again. Engineering reports that we lost magnetic containment for 0.069 seconds on two of the injectors, and several others are showing signs of the same malfunction. Automatic shutdown was avoided, but they want to take the warp core offline so they can do a detailed diagnostic. Do you wish to have Lieutenant Torres awakened so that she can take charge?”

“No, let her sleep.” Janeway took a deep breath. “I’ll go down to engineering and help out there until her shift starts. In the meantime, adjust our speed to full impulse and inform the Talaxians that Neelix will be with us a few hours longer than we expected.”

“Aye, Captain.”

She walked to the table and picked up the tea, studying the inside of the cup for a long moment. “Neelix, no one hopes more than I do that Seven will come up with a maturation chamber that will work. No one. But, I have serious doubts about the reliability of the chamber, because it’s a terrible power hog, and I think it’s wrong to get Chakotay’s hopes up when the chances are so slim for success.” She drained the last of the tea from the cup. “Tonight is an example of why I worry. For the last month, we’ve been unable to maintain cruising speed for an entire shift, and I worry about what power fluctuations like that might mean for the chamber.”

“I see,” he nodded. “I didn’t realize.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” She ran her finger around the rim of the cup. “I have to think conservatively, Neelix, and I have to be brutally honest. Not only is Voyager showing signs of wear, she’s getting by on alien technology that doesn’t come up to Starfleet specifications.” She looked up at him. “We picked up these malfunctioning injectors, for example, just a few weeks ago, and we’ve had nothing but trouble with them. We’ve had to reduce speed or drop out of warp completely almost every day since they were installed.

“Now, what will happen if they fail while we’re under attack? What if twice as many injectors failed? I’d have no choice but to steal power from less critical locations, including life support. I can’t promise that we can maintain the chamber for eight months. Eight months is an eternity out here.” She absently rubbed her forehead. “I can’t think of an eight month span when we didn’t have some sort of confrontation or complication, can you?”

He realized that she was waiting for him to reply. “No, I can’t.”

“If I can’t guarantee that the chamber will be fully powered throughout the entire eight months, I can’t approve it. I can’t take a chance on disrupting the chamber’s power supply at a critical point in the baby’s development.” She shook her head slightly. “What if I had to make a decision that might, as a side effect, kill or seriously damage the baby?”

Neelix paled. “I wouldn’t want to be faced with a decision like that.”

“Neither would I.” She made a face. “I haven’t looked at Seven’s most recent design, but I’m aware of how much power a maturation chamber uses, and I can’t, in good conscience, guarantee that we will always have enough for it. I couldn’t live with myself if I was forced to damage the baby in order to save the ship.”

“I’m afraid, Captain, that I oversimplified the problem.”

She smiled and put down the cup with a tired sigh. “Problems always look simpler from the lower decks, Neelix. I can remember when I was a junior officer that I would think that the captain must be stupid for not seeing the proper solution to a problem. Later, I realized that I had a very narrow focus and had overlooked many of the other problems my ‘proper solution’ would cause.”

“Perhaps you could help the crew understand those complications? Then they might understand why you haven’t been more active in helping Seven design the chamber.”

She frowned and shook her head. “I’m not going to start explaining my orders, Neelix, and, besides, I don’t have the time to devote to the project. I always do what I believe is best for the crew. After seven years in the Delta Quadrant, I’d hope they would give me the benefit of the doubt when my actions confuse them.”

Before Neelix could argue, the ship lurched again and Janeway nearly lost her balance. “Tuvok to Janeway.”

She was already heading for the door. “Go ahead.”

“The diagnostic has revealed that several injectors are about to freeze up. I’ve been forced to bring the ship to a full stop.”

“Acknowledged,” she said as she left the mess hall, giving Neelix a brief wave of goodbye. “Wake up Lieutenant Torres and ask her to meet me in engineering.”

The doors closed behind the captain’s retreating figure, leaving Neelix alone. He turned off the remaining lights in the mess hall and made his way slowly to his quarters, pondering what he’d seen and heard in the last few days. It was clear to him that the captain had a problem with the solution Chakotay was exploring, legitimate ones, at that, but, he also sensed that there was more to it than she’d acknowledged and, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was.

Three days later

Night watch on the bridge.

Janeway was pulling one of her infrequent tours on a non-alpha bridge shift, her goal being to “show the flag” and remind all of the crews that she was the boss. The process always left her reeling, mainly because she insisted on working her regular tour as well. The thought of staying up through another four hours and then pulling alpha shift made her tired, and she soon found herself fighting a constant desire to yawn, stretch out her legs, and rest her head against the back of the command seat for a nap.

She finally gave up. The siren call from the ready room sofa was simply too strong to ignore any longer, and so she glanced up at the ops station and said, “Mr. Kim, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my ready room.”

Kim was still acknowledging her order when the lift doors opened and Chakotay stepped onto the bridge. When Janeway arrived at her ready room doors, her first officer was waiting for her.

“Commander?” she asked. “I thought you had beta shift today.”

“I’m here for my parental pep talk,” he replied, his eyes glittering with anger. “I think I’m the only one you haven’t seen.”

She could feel the bridge crew watching them. “Chakotay, it’s four o’clock in the morning.”

He smirked at her, giving her a look that bordered on defiance. “Am I disturbing your plans for a nap, Captain?”

Janeway bristled as his comments elicited a few chuckles from the crew. “No time like the present, I suppose.” She entered her office with Chakotay right behind her. Taking a side trip to the replicator, she said, “Have a seat, Commander.”

“All right.”

She stood in front of the replicator contemplating her order and gathering her wits about her. It was an ungodly hour for a meeting, and she knew that Chakotay had chosen it with care.

After all, he often lectured the crew about setting up meetings at appropriate times, about giving the attendees advance notice of the topics to be discussed, about the tactical advantages of choosing the time and place of any confrontation. He’d broken his own rules for a reason, chosen a time and place to suit his own purposes, and she had a feeling that he was going to make this confrontation a difficult one for her.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, turning toward her desk area only to find it empty.

“Your credits, I assume?” His voice came from behind her, from the upper lounge area, and so she turned completely around to find him sitting comfortably on the sofa with his arms stretched along the back cushion.

“Sure. It’s early in the month.” She replicated their drinks-Rigellan tea and black coffee-and joined him on the sofa. They both took a sip and then regarded each other. She decided to fire the first salvo. “Parental pep talk? What is it you really want, Commander?”

“I want the same touching talk you’ve given the others, the same assurance of support, the same ‘my door is always open’ speech. I mean, if you skipped having the pep talk with me, someone might guess that we’ve already discussed it, and we couldn’t have that, could we? Someone might jump to conclusions about the identity of my baby’s mother.”

She closed her eyes briefly at his allegation and then carefully placed her mug on the table. She was too tired for this, too frazzled after a long, boring night on the bridge and the prospect of another shift yet to come. “I think it would be better to discuss this later.”

“This time works best for me.” His eyes flashed as he settled back on the sofa and crossed his arms. “What is it that you’ve always said about this situation? I want to get it over with.”

“The fact is that we have already discussed it, Commander, and I have nothing to add to that previous discussion. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I want to hear what the captain told everyone else. Let me help you remember. How about, ‘There is nothing I won’t do to make accommodations for your baby and keep it safe.’ Or maybe this, ‘If there’s anything I can personally do to make this situation easier for you, the ready room door is always open.’ That’s what you’ve told everyone else, isn’t it? If you told me something like that, it would suffice-,” his voice turned menacing, “although with me, you wouldn’t mean a word of it. And then you could pat me on the back as you usher me out the door and no one would suspect the truth. I’m having this meeting as a favor to you! To protect your precious anonymity.”

“A favor to me.” She blushed and leaned forward, putting her face in her hands. “Chakotay, I know you’re angry with me about this, and I don’t blame you. I haven’t handled this well, and I’ve apologized for what happened in Joe Carey’s quarters. I deeply regret what happened and wish I could change it. You don’t have to pour salt in the wounds to get even with me.”

“How can I settle for anything less than what’s right?”

Her head snapped up. “What’s right?”

“You hold all the cards, Kathryn, and you always have.”

“I don’t feel very powerful at the moment.”

“But you are. You’re the captain, and you can do or not do whatever you please, and the rest of us simply follow you.” He sat looking at her and then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I wonder if you realize how dangerous it is to corner a person. When you leave me with no viable options, I might take chances that I would otherwise never consider.”

“Are you trying to threaten me? I haven’t left you without options. Once we solve the power problem with the maturation chamber, everything will be fine. Seven thinks she has made great strides, and, if you want, I’ll help her work on it. All you have to do is ask me.”

“I’m talking about viable options, Captain, not pipe dreams.”

“Pipe dreams?”

“Do you really think we can ever devise a chamber that can exist on the minimal power levels you’ve prescribed? You might as well ask Chell to bake a wedding cake with a light bulb.”

She huffed out a breath, leaning back on the sofa and putting a hand to her forehead in frustration. “I’m just being realistic about how much power the ship can spare for this equipment.”

“And that’s exactly what you’re offering, isn’t it? ‘Spare’ power for a type of ‘equipment’? Thank God you haven’t limited Seven of Nine’s regeneration chamber to ‘spare’ power, or your pet project would have died years ago.”

“That does it.” Janeway slammed her empty coffee cup down on the table and stood up. “This meeting is over.”

“There are ways to guarantee that the chamber gets the power it needs, and you know it. You just aren’t willing to slow down, or take less demanding routes, or reallocate power on the ship.”

She paused at the stairs to turn to him. “My job as captain is to balance our resources to ensure the best possible chance of completing our mission-without playing favorites. By definition, taking power from one place and giving to another is bound to leave someone on the crew unhappy. Right now, your infant is safe and secure in a stasis chamber that has all the power it needs to function, even when the ship is in dire circumstances. My advice is to leave it there until we find a safe, workable solution.”

“And the captain is the one to decide what qualifies as a safe, workable solution.”

She crossed her arms across her chest and raised a brow. “That’s part of the job.”

“Well, I have a proposition for you.” He stood up and joined her at the railing. “Let me make the decision. It’s my child, after all, and only mine. As its father, I’m the one responsible for its life.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because you aren’t being rational about this, Chakotay. You want this baby now, even though you should wait for a better solution, and I can’t let you take a risk that puts the child in danger. It isn’t fair to the baby, and it isn’t fair to the rest of the crew.” She turned and started down the stairs to sit at her desk. “You’re dismissed.”

“I’m not ready to leave.”

She froze and then slowly turned to look up at him, her anger at his insubordination clearly written on her face. “Do you want me to call security and have you hauled out of here?”

His voice broke as he said, “You have to raise the power limits you’ve given us for the chamber. You have to raise them, Kathryn, or we’ll never be able to devise a workable solution.”

“How do you think I came up with that figure, Commander? Do you think I just picked an impossibly low number out of the air? I spent hours going over Voyager’s power usage in the last year, trying to find out what I could guarantee under ‘normal’ conditions. I allowed a cushion, just in case, and then I crossed my fingers that even that much could be provided without interruption.”

“Seven says we’ll never come up with a chamber that can work with such little power.”

Janeway bit her lip at the note of despair in his voice. “Do you think my goal was to frustrate you and keep your infant from being born?” She waited for his answer. “Well?”

“It’s occurred to me.” He shrugged his shoulders.

She sagged against her desk in shock. “Do you really believe that?”

He walked past her toward the door, stopping to look her in the eye. “I used to believe in you, Kathryn. I used to believe that you would always do the right thing. I used to admire the way you were so dedicated to duty. I used to trust you.”

“And now you don’t trust me.”

“Now I don’t know what to think about you.” He took a deep breath and stepped toward to her, standing so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He reached up and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand; at this distance, she could see that his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. His voice was soft when he finally spoke, but it carried a tone of desperation. “All I feel now is despair. I’m trapped, Kathryn. I have nothing left to lose.” He waited a beat before turning toward the door, tossing a last comment over his shoulder, “And that makes me a dangerous man.”

Janeway waited until he had left the room before she sat down on one of the chairs that faced her desk, too weak from the tension of the last hour to remain on her feet. She could feel her heart pounding and the palms of her hands turning clammy as she thought about the ominous tone of Chakotay’s last words.

She considered calling Tuvok to the ready room and informing him of her first officer’s veiled threat, but doing so would also require a discussion of the subject of the underlying disagreement between them. She couldn’t do that. Not yet.

Outside the ready room door, she could hear the bridge crew talking and knew she should go out and check the course, review the standing orders, and monitor their work for a few more hours. Later, she could turn the conn over to Tuvok while she made a quick trip below for a bite to eat and a fresh uniform before Alpha shift’s staff meeting.

She wondered briefly what Chakotay was thinking about doing. Would he stage a mutiny? Would he undermine her authority, isolating her and making it impossible for her to retain command? Could she afford to leave him as her second in command? Could she justify removing him from his position as first officer?

All because of what the Quarra had done to them. A wave of fury washed over her as she thought of the damage those six months on the planet had done.

She’d lost her best friend.

She’d lost her child.

Worst of all, she’d lost her dream of the future.

She made a quick trip to her private washroom to make sure she looked presentable, and then she looked at herself in the mirror, standing tall and straight as a Starfleet captain should.

“You might be a dangerous man, but don’t forget, Chakotay,” she said to her absent friend, “that I’m also a dangerous woman.”

With that thought in mind, she returned to the bridge.

Two weeks later, about three and a half months after “Workforce,” immediately after “Renaissance Man”

“No opera!” Janeway ordered as she led the EMH out of sickbay and toward the holodeck for their promised time together.

“What shall we do, then?” the doctor wondered, barely controlling his excitement at spending free time with the captain. “I’ve never downloaded the physical parameters I would need if you want to play velocity. Perhaps we could play a round of golf?”

“Maybe next time. I have a program I’ve been running lately that I think you might enjoy. Have you ever heard of barnstorming?”

“Hmmm. Does it have something to do with farming?” He joined her on the turbolift as they made their way to the holodeck.

“Well, it happens out in the countryside, but it has to do with flying. In bi-planes.”

“Bi-planes? From twentieth century Earth? Isn’t that era Tom Paris’ mania?”

She gave him a warning look. “Tom knows nothing about this program, and I don’t want him to find out.”

“My lips are sealed. Didn’t bi-planes have open cockpits?” He followed her out of the lift.

“They sure did. This program is set during the earliest days of Earth’s aviation history-the 1920s-a time of the most basic form of flight, simple enough for a single pilot-mechanic to manage alone.” They arrived outside the holodeck doors where Janeway spent a few moments initializing the program. “I’ve been curious about this era all my life, and especially after meeting Amelia Earhardt a few years ago. I finally decided to look into it in more detail.”

The double doors opened, and the two of them stepped into a warm summer afternoon somewhere in the heartland of North America. A grass runway was wedged between two cornfields and stretched away from them, while in front of them loomed a large airplane tied down beside an unpainted farm shed. The EMH studied the massive double wings and fuselage, all painted a bright red and white.

“It’s huge.” He circled the wing of the plane and walked toward the tail. “The wings go on forever.”

“It needs the lift of four large wings because the engine is only about 90 horsepower. When the cruising speed is only ninety-seven kph, the wings have to work harder to keep the plane in the air. The aeronautic rule of thumb is, the faster the engine, the smaller the wings.” She leaned down and began to loosen the rope that held the right wing to a tire that had been half-buried in the dirt. “If you’ll untie the tail, I’ll get the other wing, and then I’ll take you for a ride.”

The doctor headed for the back of the plane. “What kind of bi-plane is this?”

“A Curtiss JN-4D, called a Jenny,” she said, keeping up a running banter as she worked. “It was originally built in 1917 and played an instrumental role in the First World War. After the war ended, excess planes were sold at a low price, and soon they were a common sight as pilots flew them all over the continent.”

Once they had the plane untied, they easily maneuvered it so that it was poised at the end of the runway while the captain meticulously went over the engine and then took him through the preflight checklist. As she worked, the doctor observed the remote location, taking in the buzzing insects, the smell of farmland, and the humid sunlight splashing all around.

“Ready to attempt flight?” she grinned, gesturing toward the cockpit as she pulled goggles over her head. “You sit up front. I recommend you put on the goggles that are under the seat, unless you like having bugs smack you in the eyes. And don’t forget to fasten the seat belt-I’d hate to see your photons splattered all over the countryside.”

The EMH settled into the cockpit without the slightest idea of what to expect. He thought they might fly to a neighboring airstrip, enjoying the scenery along the way, or that they might explore the geography of the river that flowed nearby.

Instead, he found himself hanging on for dear life as the captain performed a wide range of stunts, including barrel roles, spins, dives, and loops, all done in the cloudless blue sky with acres of vacant farm fields below. By the time she finally landed the plane nearly an hour later, the doctor was worn out from hanging on during the thrilling stunts and nearly deafened by the noise of the engine and the wind. The world seemed eerily silent as he climbed from the cockpit.

“It’s so quiet,” he remarked as Janeway helped him to the ground. “Have I gone deaf?”

“Of course not,” she smiled, pulling her goggles off of her head. “It’s just quiet compared to the noise of the engine.”

The doctor hit the side of his head with the palm of his hand. “Remind me to send ear protection with you from now on.”

“Good idea. If we hurry and tie down the plane, we’ll have a few minutes to relax before our holodeck time is over.”

Once the plane was secured, Janeway produced two folding chairs from inside the shed and placed them in the shade where they could watch the bright yellow light of late summer turn to gold. She sipped iced tea from the mouth of an old fashioned thermos and then stretched her legs out in front of her, closed her eyes, and seemed to be lulled to sleep by the familiar sounds of nightfall in North America.

The EMH sat quietly, watching his surroundings and observing his captain with veiled apprehension. She’d changed since their return from Quarra. He was in the unique position of knowing everything about the pregnancies that had complicated the crew’s return, and Janeway’s dilemma was perhaps the most tragic, since her decision was based more on her sense of duty than on the wishes of her heart.

Tom and B’Elanna were thrilled to be expecting, and three of the five other couples had accepted their plight and were beginning to work toward the shared responsibilities of parenthood. The other woman who had terminated her rights had done so because she was afraid that the pregnancy might damage her long-term partnership with one of Voyager’s non-human males. She seemed comfortable with her decision, and both the father and her partner had been completely supportive of the surrogate who was carrying the baby.

Of all the crew affected, only Janeway was facing this crisis privately, without someone who cared about her to support and reassure her, and the doctor worried that she would feel even more isolated once the child was born.

After a few minutes of silence, he said, “Is this setting supposed to be Indiana?”

She squinted one eye open. “It could be. I had the computer produce a rural setting in the Midwest region of North America. Indiana is very much like this.”

“It’s peaceful and quiet-nothing like a starship.”

“Well, that’s an understatement if I ever heard one.” She smiled and closed her eyes again.

“I had no idea that you knew how to fly an airplane, Captain, much less perform such wonderful stunts.”

“My dad believed that flying an airplane was the first step in mastering space travel, so he made sure I got my pilot’s license as early as possible. I started flying with him when I was five years old, and I soloed when I was barely sixteen.”

“Amazing. It’s exhilarating, don’t you think?”

“It’s a great escape for me. An hour here is almost as good as a week’s shore leave.”

“I’m guessing that the commander must love flying the Jenny, too. At least, I’ve heard him talking about flying small planes.”

She sat up, gave him a withering look, and slowly drained the rest of the iced tea from the thermos. She seemed fascinated with the ancient container as she slowly screwed the top back on. “Actually, I’ve never shared this program with Commander Chakotay.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes. He’d noticed, of course, that Chakotay and the captain had been spending less time together than they had before their captivity on Quarra, and he’d hoped to have the chance to explore the reason for their estrangement. It had something to do with the child, of course, but he knew that the captain would brook no idle talk on that subject. “I’m surprised to hear that. It seems like an activity he’d enjoy.”

“I haven’t had the program long.” She turned the empty thermos idly in her hands. “After Quarra, when we were struggling to find our balance, I spent a lot of hours developing this scenario. The truth is that you’re the first person to fly with me.”

“I’m flattered.” He studied her face, noticing the circles beneath her eyes, realizing that she’d probably used the program as a diversion as she’d come to terms with her unexpected pregnancy. “I hope you’ll invite me again.”

“Sure. Next time we can visit a nearby town and put on an air show. Or better yet, we can find a carnival and sell rides to the farmers and their families. Once the sun goes down, we can walk among the crowd, watch the children race from one game of chance to another, ride the Ferris wheel, eat coney dogs and cotton candy.”

“I’d like that, Captain-although there is no nutritional value to spun sugar.”

“Its pure frivolity is the best thing about it.” She measured the height of the sun, noting the time. “However, duty calls.” She stood up and carried her chair back inside the shed. “My bridge shift starts in thirty minutes, and I really need to shower first.”

The EMH was just about to put his chair beside hers when the intercom activated.

“Torres to Janeway.”

“Go ahead, B’Elanna.”

“Seven and Chakotay have brought me the ‘final’ schematics for a maturation chamber, but I think you’d better look at them before we start construction.”

The doctor watched as the blood drained from the captain’s face and she struggled to maintain her equilibrium. He reached for her, grabbing her elbow to steady her as he whispered, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, and then she cleared her throat and said, “Forward the plans to my ready room and I’ll look at them in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Captain. They still haven’t solved the power problem, but I get the feeling that they’re going to push for moving ahead anyway. I’m worried about keeping it running if we happen to hit a dry spell during the next eight months. We’re talking about a baby-.”

“Understood, B’Elanna. I’ll let you know what I think.” The intercom closed, and Janeway slumped against the shed wall, her chin on her chest.

“Sit down before you faint,” the doctor ordered, reopening his chair and guiding her into it. “Lean over and put your head over your knees.” To his complete surprise, Janeway followed his orders without a murmur of protest.

The doctor knelt beside her, gently rubbing her back as she struggled to recover from her dizzy spell. Her arms were crossed on her knees, cradling her head, and she groaned with obvious distress. She would be upset that he’d witnessed her adverse reaction to Torres’ seemingly innocent comment about the maturation chamber. However, Torres didn’t know how sensitive the captain was to this problem, while the EMH was aware of the real dilemma she had faced and was able to empathize completely with her emotional turmoil.

He had, after all, witnessed the relationship she’d shared with Chakotay.

Tuvok and the EMH, who had modified his physical features so that he looked like a young Vulcan, walked into the café and bar across from the Quarran power plant and were greeted by none other than Tom Paris.

“We don’t get many Vulcans here,” Tom said as he seated them. “Are you looking for work?”

“Not any more. We start our new jobs tomorrow at the power plant across the street,” the doctor replied. “The supervisor said this place is good to their employees.”

“Absolutely. Working there qualifies you for our ten percent discount! I’m Tom Paris, by the way, and my partner behind the bar is Neelix.”

“I’m Tuvok, and everyone calls my friend here ‘Doc.'”

“Well, let me bring you a beer on the house while you look through the menu.”

Once they were alone, Tuvok said, “I saw no recognition in his eyes at all, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. I would really like to examine him in Sickbay and find out how they’ve managed to alter his memory engrams.” The EMH surreptitiously opened his tricorder. “There are fifteen human life signs in the bar.”

“Including the captain and commander.” Tuvok moved his eyes toward the window. “They’re seated together in the corner booth.”

The EMH could barely contain his surprise at the altered appearance of Voyager’s command team. Janeway’s hair was long and loose, curling around her face and shoulders in a very alluring fashion, and she wore what looked to be a blue leather suit that showed off her womanly figure. Chakotay’s hair was also longer and styled in a casual fashion that made him look much younger in spite of the sprinking of gray hair. Most surprising was the relaxed and carefree looks on their faces. Gone was the haunted, worried air that seemed to have the captain in its permanent grip. Gone was the busy and officious attitude of the first officer too stressed to think about anything but work.

The doctor found himself unable to take his eyes from the familiar pair. He watched Chakotay slip his arm around Janeway’s shoulders, pull her close to his side, bury his face in her hair, and whisper something in her ear, words which made Janeway break into a radiant grin, a blush appearing on her face. She shifted in her seat, cupped his cheek in her hand, and gave him a tender kiss. They immediately slid out of the booth and headed for the door, hand-in-hand, while Tuvok and the doctor watched them in rapt fascination.

“Amazing, aren’t they?” Tom asked as he delivered their beers. “I was here when they first met, and I have to say, it was a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ experience. Have you ever heard of the thunderbolt?”

The doctor tore his eyes from the door. “The thunderbolt? As in ‘love at first sight’?”

“Exactly.” Tom sat down at the table to chat. “Chakotay was sitting at the bar telling me how lonely he was. He’d arrived a couple of days earlier and was missing the crew of the freighter he’d been serving on. I was telling him to give himself a few days when I noticed that he was staring at someone who’d just walked into the bar—none other than Kathryn Janeway. I thought maybe he’d had a seizure, from the dazed look in his eyes. He finally stopped staring at her long enough to ask her name and offer to take her usual drink to her table. They sat there talking and laughing for hours, as if they were the only two people on the planet, and then they left together—if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows for effect. “They’ve been together ever since.”

“They’re romantically involved,” Tuvok observed, his eyebrow raised in surprise.

“You bet they’re involved,” Tom laughed as he stood up and pulled out his order pad. “Now, did you have a chance to look at the menu?”

As Tuvok asked a few questions about the cuisine, the EMH spied the captain and first officer walking slowly away from the bar, their arms wound around each other’s waists.

“This could be a real complication,” he told Tuvok, once Tom had left to order their food.

“I hope not,” the Vulcan replied, “but I’m afraid you might be right.”

The memory of that romantic scene and dozens of others like it troubled him as he compared it to her current predicament. The contrast between their relationship on Voyager and the one they shared on Quarra was like night and day, and he felt sorry that the strain of their return had damaged the friendship that had sustained them for seven years.

“This is my fault, Captain,” he told her as she gradually regained her composure. “I haven’t made any headway in solving the surrogate problem, and as a result, Chakotay feels compelled to use the maturation chamber.”

“You can hardly be held responsible for the baby having the virus,” she answered, her voice muffled by her arms. “I’m more to blame for that than you are.”

“Still, I hope we can find a solution that’s acceptable to everyone involved.” The doctor felt a rush of sympathy for her when he realized that the baby’s birth would just bring on another round of guilt and loss. “Have you talked about this with someone?”

She shook her head. “Who would I talk to, Doctor? No one knows the specifics of my situation, and that’s the way I want it to be.”

“I could listen, and if you’re uncomfortable confiding in me, there’s always Tuvok. You can trust both of us to protect your privacy.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She sat up and pushed her hands through her hair. “Talking won’t help solve the problem. I just need to find a way to live through it.” She looked up into the sky, noticing that the wispy cirrus clouds had turned pink in the sunset. “In fact, I appreciate the fact that you haven’t approached me about the baby. Chakotay asked me to carry the baby, and I’m afraid my refusal to do so has resulted in a strain between us.”

“He asked you to be the surrogate? I can’t believe it!”

“It’s only logical. I do have an immunity to the virus.”

“If you’re thinking I told him you would be a good surrogate, I can assure you I did not.”

The captain looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, taking a deep breath to insure that her equilibrium had returned. “He assumed that I was the baby’s mother, and so did I. It makes sense that the baby got the virus from both of us.”

“He was guessing, Captain. I haven’t told anyone that-.” He stopped short, his mouth hanging open.

“That I am the baby’s mother,” she finished for him, her blue eyes icy cold. “We both know that I was the mother of one of the babies, so it makes sense that was carrying Chakotay’s baby, wasn’t I?”

He stared at her a moment and then swallowed. “You’ve asked me not to reveal this kind of information to those who have terminated their parental rights.”

“Chakotay is my first officer, Doctor. He believes I’m the mother of his child, and the end result has been a difficult if not impossible work relationship,” she stood up and looked every inch a Starfleet captain giving a subordinate a direct order. “I have to know the truth if I’m to continue to work with him for the next thirty-five years. I need to know what I’m up against.”

The doctor hesitated, and then slumped slightly. “You’re the baby’s mother.”

Janeway turned away quickly, muttering something under her breath, and when the doctor started to say something more, she held up a hand to stop him. “I appreciate your honesty, Doctor. That will be all.”

He watched as she walked briskly to the bi-plane, crossed her arms on the fuselage, and buried her face in them. He’d never felt more helpless.

When they’d rescued her from Quarra, Kathryn Janeway had been the personification of joy, a radiant, vivacious woman hopelessly in love with a man who adored her. Now her life was in shambles and she was in danger of losing the one friendship that had sustained her over the last seven years. He walked up behind her and paused, surprised to discover that she was whispering to herself when he had expected her to be crying.

“If you want to reconsider your decision,” he began, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I’m sure the commander would be willing to-.”

She whirled around, her face a mask of hostility as she replied, “I thought my decision through completely before I made it, Doctor, and I’m not about to change my mind simply because I’ve discovered the identity of the child’s father.”

He stepped back in shock at the waves of righteous fury that poured off of her. “I see.”

“Computer, end program.” For a moment, the two of them stood facing each other in the silence of the holodeck’s black and yellow grid, and then she took another ragged breath, fists at her side. “We’ve been grievously damaged, Doctor, by people who were too short-sighted and selfish to care whether their meddling would ruin lives and destroy friendships and complicate already impossible situations. If I could get my hands on the doctor who did this to us, I’d . . . .” She looked down, struggling to control her temper. Finally, she brushed past him on her way to the exit. “If I don’t leave right this minute, I’ll be late for my shift.”

The EMH stood alone in the silent confines of the holodeck.

One week later, during “Endgame,” basically a continuation of the conversation between Captain Janeway and Admiral Janeway when the admiral tells her younger self about the disasters she faced on the rest of her trip to the AQ.

Kathryn Janeway stared in disbelief at the older version of herself while members of the crew glided past them in the passageway, pretending not to notice the animosity that bristled between them.

The captain struggled to comprehend the significance of everything the admiral had told her about the future-twenty-two more deaths, including Seven of Nine, sixteen more years of exile, permanent estrangement from her first officer, and the loss of Tuvok to a rare neurological disease. As much as she wanted to label all of it as lies being told to manipulate her into doing the admiral’s bidding, she could tell by the defiant, almost triumphant look on her counterpart’s face that it was the absolute truth. The older woman’s final challenge echoed in her head.

“Can I let this ‘golden opportunity’ to get the crew home pass me by?” she repeated, drawing herself up to her full height. “You bet I can, Admiral, if using that chance can critically damage the Borg.” She pointed in the general direction of the nebula. “We’re going to destroy the transwarp hub whether you help us or not.”

“It will never work,” the admiral admonished her, but Janeway had already strode past her, anxious to find Tuvok and confirm her allegation about a neurological illness. The admiral’s eyes flashed icy blue. “And then, of course, there’s the baby.” She smiled slightly when the captain froze, her hand touching the wall to keep her balance.

“The baby?”

“I can’t believe that you’ve waited so long to ask! Still in a state of denial, I guess.”

Janeway was suddenly aware of their very public location and opened the door to a deserted science lab. “We’ll talk in here.”

By the time the admiral entered the room, Janeway had fled to the far side, putting as much distance as possible between them. The admiral looked around at the deserted lab, taking in the surroundings with obvious interest. “Strange to see this room like this. We converted this section of the deck into a playroom and a schoolroom as the children grew.”

The captain was in no mood for chitchat. “Just tell me what I need to know.”

“If that’s what you want. The first babies born-Tom and B’Elanna’s and the other four-arrived without too much fanfare, even though they were the best morale boost we’d ever had.” She paused, almost feeling sorry for her younger self who stood with her back turned. “But the last one, Chakotay’s child . . . are you sure you want to hear this? I’m afraid it will upset you.”

“Please, get it over with,” she answered through gritted teeth.

“If you insist.” The admiral gathered her thoughts as she perched on a lab stool and leaned against the counter top. “My past was identical to yours, of course, until I arrived from the future a few days ago. We fled from the nebula, just as you did, which was, by the way, the only decision you could make at the time. We didn’t have the knowledge or the tools to survive long in such a hotbed of Borg activity.” She paused, but the captain simply nodded. “B’Elanna has her baby in a few days time, and a few months later, the other four come along.”

“And the last one?”

“Chakotay’s daughter?” She let that bit of information sink in. “As you know, there were significant complications because of the virus. The maturation chamber they’d designed was a dreadful power hog, and Seven hadn’t yet found a way to reduce the usage to a level I could accept. The two of them became quite a team and were soon convinced that my reservations were more personal than professional. They thought I was dragging my feet because I was jealous of them, because I couldn’t bear to see them parent the child together. Without me.” She paused to regain control of her emotions. “Even the crew felt that way, I found out later. So, they waited patiently for the chance to take matters into their own hands.”

Janeway turned to face her. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. A few months from now, we come across a sector of space controlled by the Nacretti. We’d heard that they were traders and expected to barter for passage across their space and purchase us some anti-matter injectors that were closer to Starfleet specs. Tuvok, B’Elanna, and I visited their home world, leaving Chakotay in command, and while we were away . . . .” She stopped again, closing her eyes at the memory.

But the captain guessed what had happened. “They assembled the chamber.”

The older woman nodded. “The Nacretti were not at all what we expected them to be.” She gave the captain a bitter look. “The crew had no way of knowing that the Nacretti jammed communications since just after our departure. We were unable to warn them about the squadron of fighters that was chasing us back to the ship, anxious to capture Voyager and force the crew to settle on some nice colony planet. The Flyer was barely in the shuttle bay when the first salvo of Nacretti phasers hit our shields.”

The captain took a step toward her. “Oh, my God. The chamber.”

“I had no idea that the chamber had been brought online, nor did anyone think to tell me about it during the chaos of battle. I raced to the bridge, returned fire, and struggled to get the hell out of Nacretti space with Voyager in one piece.” The admiral was now reciting the story with a glazed look in her eye, recalling the events by memory. “In the years since, I’ve studied every decision I made during that battle a thousand times, trying to think of anything that I could have done differently. It was a fierce, running battle, and although we were heavily out-numbered, Voyager held her own, knocking down wave after wave of attackers while taking unbelievable punishment.”

“No, please,” the captain begged. “Don’t tell me that the chamber was deprived of power during the battle.”

The admiral’s eyes filled with tears. “Multiple times.”

The captain sat down heavily on a stool and buried her face in her arms on the lab table. Her voice was muffled, “And the baby?”

“By some miracle, the baby survived. The doctor did what he could to reverse the damage, but when the harm is done so early in the pregnancy, there’s little that can be done. And, besides, there were two more times that the chamber failed before it completely broke down-after six months.” The admiral took a deep breath. “Taya weighed three pounds, but she was a fighter and lived through it all. Even so, the harm had been done. She never spoke a word, never walked a step, never even learned to feed herself. But she was the favorite mascot of the crew, a beautiful, smiling doll, always happy, always flirting.”

“I knew the maturation chamber was a bad idea,” the captain replied, looking up. “I’ve already warned Chakotay a dozen times.”

“So did I-two dozen times. But, really, what other choice did he have? He wasn’t about to wait another sixteen years to be a father, and I wasn’t about to go through a pregnancy.”

The captain sat up in her chair and studied the older woman carefully, realizing that both of them had given up their parental rights. “Do you regret that decision?”

“Oh, Captain, don’t get me started on my regrets.” The admiral stood up and walked to the narrow viewport where she spent several minutes staring at the stars. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. “Chakotay was an amazing father, just as I knew he would be. He loved Taya fiercely and kept her with him whenever his duties allowed. When he couldn’t, Seven of Nine stepped in, or, when they were both busy, any number of the crew. He and Seven grew closer because of Taya, and they eventually married. I tried to be happy for them. They were happy together, and even though Taya was never going to be a normal child, she was the light of their lives.”

“You told me Seven was killed.”

“Yes. She was seriously injured on an away mission and died in his arms.” The admiral reached up to brush tears from her eyes. “What I didn’t tell you is that she died saving my life.”

The captain closed her eyes. “I was afraid of something like that.”

“After that, Chakotay focused all of his attention on Taya. The doctor had warned us that her lifespan would be short, but three years? She was still just a baby when she died, about a year after Seven.”

The captain shuddered. “And that was my fault as well.”

The admiral turned to face her, her eyes red from repressed tears. “Chakotay blamed me, and I blamed the Quarrans, but, whoever was at fault, we all suffered. I saw Taya as a mistake that should never have happened, wouldn’t have happened except for the meddling done by those damned Quarran doctors. Chakotay saw her as a unexpected gift, a prized possession to be treasured and cherished at any cost. I was just too blind to see past my anger to the human life at stake. Too blind and too dedicated to duty.”

The lab was silent, and then the captain stood up and walked to the admiral’s side. “You came back for Taya. To save her life.”

“And Seven. Chakotay. Tuvok. The whole crew.” She sighed. “But, yes, Taya’s the one who truly matters to me. If you go back now, they can find a way for her to be born healthy and happy. Doesn’t she deserve that? She’s an innocent baby who did nothing wrong except have the bad luck of being conceived at a time that was inconvenient to her driven and merciless mother. She deserves a chance at life.”

“That’s why you want us to forget about the hub and just go home.” The captain felt a tide of sorrow rise within her as the familiar dilemma faced her-the tension between her personal desires and the demands of her position. “I can’t let the fate of one or two people sway me from my duty, Admiral.”

“I knew you’d say that.” She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to control her temper. “I told the doctor that you would never yield, never agree to carry the baby. I’ll be surprised if you carry her even if this hair-brained plan of yours works.”

“As captain, my duty is clear. Maybe you’ve forgotten that, but I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?” The admiral’s fury was scalding hot. “What did doing my duty really accomplish, Captain? A lonely life. A shattered crew. An interminable exile. A poor handicapped baby. Take advantage of the technology I’ve brought with me and get this crew home. Now.”

“You know I can’t do that.” The captain headed for the door. “You know I won’t.”

“You didn’t ask about the baby’s looks.” The admiral watched as her younger self once again stopped in her tracks.

“I don’t want to hear any more.”

But, the admiral pushed on. “She looked like me, only with dark hair and eyes. Once she was born, there was no longer any question about who her mother was, even though I refused to claim her. Her hair was dark with a red tint, and her brown eyes were shaped just like mine. But it was her crooked smile that was the real giveaway, and she was such a happy baby-”

“Enough! No more!”

The admiral sighed as her younger self stormed out of the lab. She rubbed her face with her hands, wondering what else she could do to force them to use the transwarp hub before they lost their chance.

But the memories refused to leave her. She thought of the battles she and Chakotay had waged. Not long after the nebula, the worst of all, the final straw.

Chakotay stood defiantly in front of her desk and handed her a PADD. “Seven of Nine thinks she has a solution to the power problems. She’s designed an automatic ‘stasis’ field that will kick in whenever there’s a sudden drop in power.”

Janeway studied at the report briefly before placing it on her desk. “I’ve thought of that, and I can tell you that it won’t work. The slightest delay between the drop of power and the activation of the stasis field will mean that the baby could be seriously and permanently affected. It’s too dangerous.”

“Everything worth having involves risk.”

“Not when a child’s life hangs in the balance.”

“As the child’s only parent, I have the right to decide what’s best, and I think this is worth a try.”

“As captain, I also have to consider what’s best for the crew.”

He put his hands on the desk, towering over her. “Trying to convince you is an effort in futility. Perhaps I should just terminate the pregnancy.”

Janeway paled and tore her eyes away from his. “Of course you won’t. I’ve volunteered to help you with this chamber a dozen times, but you’ve always refused. I’ve begged you to bring B’Elanna in on the planning.”

“We don’t want your help.”

“‘We’ don’t want help. I assume you mean you and Seven of Nine.”

“Does that bother you, Captain?” He smirked. “Angry because I’ve deprived you of time with your surrogate daughter?”

“Of course not!” She stood up and glared at him. “I’m only worried about the child’s safety and well-being.” She picked the PADD up and held it toward him. “I won’t allow you to implement this technology until I’m convinced that Voyager can support it adequately for eight full months. Is that clear?”

Chakotay stood up straight, as well, snatching the PADD from her hand. “It’s clear, all right.” He relaxed slightly, studying the data once again. “Have you forgotten, Kathryn, what it’s like to have someone else make all the decisions for you? Have you been captain so long that you no longer understand how important it is to have some control over what happens in your life?”

“Is that what you think this is about, Chakotay? Control?”

“My people believe that we make decisions based on our perception of reality. Your reality seems to focus too much on control and not enough on faith.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “It probably seems that way to you. I want you to know that I’ll gleefully approve of a maturation chamber as soon as I’m convinced it can work properly. I want this baby to have every chance at a normal life.”

He looked up and studied her face for a long time before he nodded. “Then we’ll continue to work toward a chamber you can accept.”

“I’m still willing to help, if you’ll let me.”

“No thanks.” And with that, he turned and left the room.

Janeway collapsed into her chair, emotionally drained, nearly trembling with exhaustion. She wondered how much longer this could go on before everything came crashing down around her ears.

The admiral shook herself out of her memory.

“Seven of Nine,” she said to herself, shaking her head to clear the last shreds of the unhappy memory from her mind. “Maybe she’ll listen to reason.”

Meanwhile, Captain Janeway strode toward the turbolift, tapping her commbadge to contact Tuvok.

“Yes, Captain,” came the Vulcan’s response.

“I need to talk to you about a personal matter. Where are you right now?”

“I’m in my quarters.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” She entered the lift, nodded at its occupants, and ordered the correct floor, standing tall and aloof, as always, until the others disembarked. Finally alone, she slumped against the wall. “Computer, halt turbolift.”

The admiral’s story had nearly made her physically ill, and even now she fought against waves of nausea. Dizzy and disoriented, she slid down the wall to the floor where she looped her arms around her knees and rested her head on them, tears streaming down her face.

Since she’d first heard that the baby carried the dormant New Earth virus, she’d worried that Chakotay would push for a quick solution that would result in a disaster like the one the admiral had described to her. He’d brushed aside her warnings, deliberately turning away from her and toward the one person who could help him—Seven of Nine.

She tried to remember the last time they’d had a friendly conversation, one that hadn’t been complicated by their disagreement over the baby, but it had been too long. She missed his friendship and had nearly panicked when the admiral said she might lose it for good. How would she survive without Chakotay and Tuvok at her side? How had the admiral survived? The thought of it nearly overwhelmed her.

“Tuvok to Janeway. It’s been nearly fifteen minutes. Do you still wish to meet with me?”

She tapped her commbadge as she stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I was delayed en route. I’ll be there right away.” She broke the connection and then ordered the turbolift to resume its journey.

In her mind’s eye, she could picture a little girl with Chakotay’s brown eyes, with reddish-brown hair, and a crooked Janeway smile. She’d make sure that the Nacretti disaster didn’t happen in this timeline, and she hoped that someday she’d see that little girl in real life, even if she would always be Chakotay’s daughter and never her own.

“I’m sorry, Taya,” she whispered, choking back more tears. “I’m sorry that I have to be the captain instead of your mother. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.”