If this sucks, it's all my fault. It's the first person narrative that bugs me; I have no idea why I started it like that. I'm currently working on a revised version, with some changes to the situation, plus (of course) a third person narrative that can jump from person to person as needed (I thought about doing that here, but I've always considered that the most amateurish way to write fiction ... sorry to all the people whose talents I've just impugned, you'll feel better when you read this and find out how crappy it all is.)

Anyway, if you read this, just look at it as a first draft and feel free to send constructive criticism to help me with the second.

The character of Sveta comes from Jeri Taylor's Pathways. Tessa Omond is from "Timeless". The main Voyager characters belong to Paramount Pictures.

***

They say that the life of a mercenary is empty, with only greed as a motivation. No loyalty, no love.

Of course, 'they' say a great deal, and I choose not to listen, which is why, after seventeen years of operation, the Renatan Mercenaries have a reputation as being professional, skilled and honest. We've even taken contracts from Starfleet, mainly in situations where the 'Fleet wants a presence, but other parties would prefer not to see Starfleet insignia.

We were also boosted by the stories of our heroics in the Second Dominion War, where we, hired by Starfleet itself, were the only mercenaries who didn't 'disappear' after it became apparent that the Dominion wasn't going to tolerate defeat.

We taught them to tolerate it.

Of course, my prior experiences had given me a lot of insight into leading a crew who didn't necessarily want your leadership. I find it ironic that Tom Paris is considered one of my most loyal officers. A familiar face...

There are a lot of familiar faces in the Renatans, now, former Voyager crewmembers who came to serve under me after Kathryn disappeared. No one's seen her for almost twelve years now. I sometimes regret that she couldn't see this, but considering all that happened the last time we met, perhaps it's best that she stay away. I have no doubts that she's alive, though; despite the claims of Starfleet.

After she vanished without a trace at a scientific conference, her crew sought us out. Tom and B'Elanna were already with me, along with a lot of the Maquis, but now we also had Neelix, Seven, Doc, Harry ... even Tuvok. And then there were the other senior officers: Sveta -- Svetlana Korepanova -- who drove me to distraction at the Academy, recruited me into the Maquis and now drove me to distraction as the captain of my flagship. And Tessa, protege, friend, companion. She combined the best of Kathryn and Sveta with a charm all her own, but at first I only resented her for being an imperfect copy. Thank God for her loyalty and tenacity. There are times when I don't know what I'd do without her.

We were based on Yullanda V, where we had shipyards, but we also had offices throughout the quadrants. Sveta and I were visiting the Earth offices when we got a call from Tom's father.

"Something up, sir?" I asked, expecting that Tom and B'Elanna were being recalled for a family conference.

"A contract, Chakotay. A rather odd one," he told me.

"In what way?"

"A physicist -- a former Starfleet officer -- has been working for several yearss now on a theory which is proving rather controversial. Several groups are interested in it, and we want you to go and protect her team and work, and bring them all back to Earth."

"The idea being that Starfleet will have this information and no one else will."

"Exactly." Owen looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I'm not completely happy with Starfleet's decision," he admitted, "but the group, who call themselves the Trojans, are in danger."

Sveta leaned forward. "Why isn't Starfleet going to get them?" she asked.

"That was my decision," Owen told her, "the leader of the Trojans has had something of a chequered relationship with Starfleet, and I feel that she'll accept the Renatans more easily."

Sveta and I glanced at each other; there was nothing especially unusual about this mission. Still, it sounded interesting.

"We'll take it," I decided.

Owen smiled. "Good," he told me. "A courier will be sent to your apartment this evening with more details. This mission is rather sensitive."

"Payment?" I asked; the Federation may be a cashless society, but they still needed some form of currency to deal with the less 'advanced' groups. The Renatan mercenaries, for one.

"In your accounts. We'll negotiate damages after the mission's completion. Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Chakotay, you're to go personally."

This surprised me; I had intended to go to Romulus with Tuvok and the science teams.

"Why?" I asked. Mercenary or not, I was still an archaeologist, and we'd been hired to assist in the excavation of some early Romulan ruins.

"You'll know when you get there," Owen told me, "further personnel requests are in the mission details. Paris out."

As soon as he was gone, Sveta turned to me. "Interesting," she said dryly. "Will you be assigning the Trebus?"

The Trebus was her flagship; the one named after my home. All the ships were named after planets in the Demilitarised Zone and all the shuttles after dead Maquis.

"The Trebus, but also the Dorvan and the Rimanas. If we have to protect this 'Trojan Group', then I want the ground assault and combat teams. Six ground assault shuttles, and Alpha Squadron in space. And two ground combat teams, um, Green and Red teams. With Tuvok, I don't care what Starfleet says. I want Paris commanding Alpha squadron and Tessa Omond co-ordinating the ground assault shuttles. Harry as back up. We'll send Vorik and Setonak to Romulus in place of Tuvok and I. Start packing, we leave for Yullanda V as soon as our orders have arrived."

Sveta was sitting still, watching me pace and listing my orders. "I want my regular crew for the Trebus," she told me, "don't disrupt them any more than you have to."

"We're supposed to be flexible, Sveta. Your crew have been together for so long that they have trouble working with anyone else."

"We're a team."

"You're becoming cliquish. I'll have the reassignments co-ordinated as soon as this mission is over."

"You want second rate officers on your flagship?"

"Some of your crew are past their peak. Especially the ground teams. I want to transfer some people from the Dorvan to the Trebus; they have the right amount of experience and strength."

"And what will you do with my assault teams?"

"Transfer them into tactical training."

Sveta wasn't happy with my rearrangement of her crew, but I needed a fresh flagship. She was the best captain I had, but she no longer had the best crew. A ground assault team has to be young and strong, with a slightly older leader to co-ordinate. Her current teams were pushing it a little, and their efficiency was decreasing.

We moved quickly from the offices to our apartment. There were rumours about Sveta and I all over the place, but we hadn't been lovers since the Academy. And that was a long time ago; she'd been married and widowed in the time since.

The courier arrived around eight. Sveta had made the necessary arrangements with spacedock, and we had left the planet by eight-thirty. As she flew the small two person ship, I read over the mission outline.

CONTRACT: Between Starfleet (the employers), representing the United Federation of Planets, and the Renatan Mercenary Group (the employees), representing themselves (specifics of contract outlined below).

PRIMARY GOAL: to ensure the survival of the Trojan Group and their research.

SPECIFICS: The Trojan group are a team of privately funded physicists, unaligned with any government. They own a small planet in the Takarin sector, from which they conduct their research, investigating [CLASSIFIED]. They are led by [CLASSIFIED], and include members of several races.

The Trojan group are non-political, however, Starfleet has reason to believe that their research could be used to create a [CLASSIFIED], with the potential for use as a weapon. The Trojan group are to be returned, safely, with their research, to Starfleet command. Several other groups, including the [CLASSIFIED] are interested in this research.

OTHER DETAILS: There are three children involved with the Trojan group, the children of [CLASSIFIED] and [CLASSIFIED]. Clearly, these are to be treated as Federation citizens.

PERSONNEL DETAILS: The following personnel are to be assigned to this mission: Thomas Paris, B'Elanna Torres, Annika Hansen, Tuvok, Harry Kim and "The Doctor". Other personnel may be assigned at the discretion of Admiral Chakotay.

There was a note from Admiral Paris at the bottom: Sorry there's so little information. There was some hesitation about giving this mission to the Renatans, but I felt that it was the right choice. The classified information shouldn't be absolutely necessary to the completion of the mission. If it becomes necessary, the leader should be willing to give some information to you.

Following this was astronomical data about the planet and what looked like reconnaissance data.

"Interesting?" Sveta asked as I looked up from the padd.

"Yes, but I wish Starfleet had given us a little more to work with."

Sveta looked over the mission details. "We've worked with less before," she pointed out, "look at the Severin Mission."

"That doesn't mean it was easy. Or sensible."

Sveta grunted her agreement; she had been injured badly on that mission. She checked her instruments. "We should arrive at Yullanda V in one hour. I'd recommend you get some rest."

"Yes sir."

...

Yullanda V was a nice planet, similar to Earth in that it had many varied ecosystems. These I'd allocated to the race most suited to the climate; HQ was an island in the Oceanic Zone. It was a nice place, not dissimilar to northern Australia or South East Asia in Earth. Nice beaches, warm weather ... it was considered a privilege to work at HQ.

As I stepped out of the ship, Tessa was waiting for me. After two weeks of Sveta's aloof reserve, her smile was very welcome. "I've arranged briefings for all requested teams," she told me as we walked, "dividing them between you and Sveta. You'll want to brief the senior officers yourself?" I nodded. "Okay, that'll be 0700 tomorrow morning."

I smiled, she was becoming adept at anticipating my orders. "I want the Trebus, the Dorvan and the Rimanas on six hour standby," I told her, "with the usual captains and main crew." I handed her a padd. "I want these teams and squads on two hour standby. Paris is co-ordinating the Alpha squadron. You'll co-ordinate the ground assault teams."

"Me?"

"Harry will act as back-up. Go hop on the simulators and start working out tactics."

Tessa smiled, she had worked hard to become one of our best co-ordinators. "Yes *sir!*" she told me, and ran off.

*

The briefing the next morning was crowded; the senior officers I'd requested were present, along with the team and squadron leaders. I took a moment to admire the sea of grey and blue uniforms; we'd come a long way since the day I'd 'inherited' a slapped-together mercenary group.

The briefing began and I outlined the mission. Immediately the questions began; I let Sveta handle most of them.

"How many people are in this Trojan Group?" asked Tom Paris.

"We haven't been told," Sveta admitted.

"Do we know what races?" Harry asked, "any special needs?"

"No. The alien habitats on the Trebus, Dorvan and Rimanas will be kept on standby."

B'Elanna was studying the data on the planet. "There's a supernova in the Takaran sector," she said, "a few systems away. The radiation might cause sensor interference."

"What about the armour?" I asked.

"The Borg systems will adapt," Seven told me, "causing the standards to adapt as well."

"Thanks," I answered, and began handing out personnel assignments. There was some grumbling; a lot of younger officers had been passed over in favour of former Voyager people, but this was my mission, and the former crew of Voyager had -- have -- a bond which gave us an edge.

After the briefing, Harry Kim came to see me.

"Harry, what's up?" I asked. Harry would captain the Rimanas, with Tessa as first officer, before they swapped positions to work with the assault teams.

"Tessa." he said flatly.

"What about her?"

Harry took a deep breath. He was no longer a raw officer, but he had made diplomacy and tact his trademark. And he was obviously afraid of causing offence.

"You're keeping her down," he said finally.

"Excuse me?"

"Tessa's almost forty now. And she's a good officer. Smart. Independent. But you treat her like some glorified errand girl. The only time she's assigned to space duty is when it will keep her close to you."

"You're saying I'm holding her back?"

Harry smiled, glad that I understood. "Yeah," he admitted. "I'm not sure you're aware of it, but other people are. She could be a captain, and she could be a good captain, but if you don't let her work unsupervised for a while, people will think she got it because she's involved with you. Which would undermine her captaincy."

"What do you suggest?" I asked.

"The Bajorans have offered us a contract for exploration work, haven't they. Effective in six months." I nodded. "Send Tessa as first officer. Two years to prove that she can work without you holding her hand."

"And then give her the captaincy," I finished.

"Exactly. Rumour has it that you're planning to expand the fleet in a couple of years. Tessa gets her captaincy and keeps her reputation, without booting someone else out of the centre seat."

I smiled. "I'll think about it," I told Harry. "It's a good idea. And I suspect you're right." But I hated to admit it.

"Thanks," Harry told me. As he was walking out, he spun around. "Hey, Chakotay?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd love to have Tessa as first officer. If you're looking for a captain for that Bajoran mission." Then, laughing, he walked off.

***

The planet owned by the Trojan group had no formal name, but according to Starfleet intelligence, it had been nicknamed Cassandra by the Trojans; it's two moons named Paris and Hector. Evidently someone had a love of the Iliad. To familiarise the crews with Cassandra, large screens in the mess halls displayed images from the Starfleet probes; it gave the crew a sense of being there. I had stopped by the officer's mess on the Trebus to grab some lunch one day, and found Annika -- Seven of Nine -- staring at the screens.

"Something wrong, Anni?" I asked. Almost twenty years among humans had left her, if not completely at ease in social situations, no longer the insolent drone she once was. Since she had the last of her external implants removed, and began using her given name, she seemed almost ... normal.

'It's strange," she said thoughtfully as I sat down to join her. "The Federation prides itself on the freedom of its citizens and its respect for non-citizens. And yet they have obviously been spying on these non-aligned civilians for some time. We've been told that we are working for the benefit of the Trojan group, but I find myself doubtful about the Federation's motives."

"Seven, if I thought that the Federation was really as wonderful as it makes itself out to be, then I wouldn't be here."

"You're saying that the Federation is a hypocritical organisation."

"You don't sound surprised," I commented.

"I'm not. But I'm surprised to hear *you* say that. I had always received the impression that you agreed with Captain Janeway's idealised version of the Federation."

I thought about that time. "In a way I did," I admitted, "because out there, the Federation was embodied in Kathryn, and I had great respect for her."

Annika looked thoughtful. "But now...?"

"Now ... it's not so easy to overlook the cases where the Prime Directive was an excuse to avoid dealing with issues. Or where people died because the Federation was unwilling to take action."

Annika nodded, and turned to the display. "It seems that the Trojan group feel the same way."

***

We arrived at Cassandra the next day.

There were two Klingon birds of prey leaving the system as we entered, but fortunately, the cloaking device held. I had Annika scan the birds of prey for non-Klingon life forms, but the only one was a Klingon-Bajoran hybrid. Interesting, but legitimate.

We were in planetary orbit within five minutes, the teams ready to go. But it looked like this wasn't going to be a combat mission after all.

*

We were too late.

I had begun to worry the moment we saw the Klingon birds of prey, and the condition of the planet confirmed my fears. The Trojan group had already been attacked, and we could only pick up the pieces. I ordered the assault teams to stand by; they might be needed later but right now, the medical teams were the priority.

The command team were traditionally the first to enter a situation, although we were flanked by armed security people. We beamed down just outside the cave complex which housed the Trojan group. There were signs of combat, both armed and hand to hand, all around.

"Go carefully, people," I warned as we entered the outer caves. The Trojans would probably be touchy, what with Klingon attacks and all.

At the end of the outermost cave was a shimmering forcefield barrier, obviously designed to keep unwanted guests out. It was damaged, though, and it wasn't much trouble to disable it.

We had gotten about ten steps into the next cave when a figure jumped out of the shadows brandishing a phaser rifle. "Freeze!" he yelled, and stepped into the light.

He was a young man, couldn't have been much more than sixteen. Dark, though with blue eyes; he'd be incredibly good looking when he was an adult. Right now, though, the shadows cast on his face made him seem distorted.

"Who are you?" he demanded, "are you with the Klingons?"

I held out my hands to show that I wasn't a threat. "I'm an independent contractor," I said, "we mean you no harm."

"Why are you here?"

How much to tell him? "Our employer was concerned that your group was in danger," I said, "we were hired to protect you and your work."

"Mercenaries..."

"Yeah. The Renatan Mercenaries."

The boy was unmoved. "Haven't heard of you," he told me, "but if you were sent to protect us, you're a little late."

"We weren't given a timeframe for a possible attack. We came as quickly as we could."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Sveta stepped forward. "Do you have wounded?" she asked, "we can help if you're short on medical facilities or supplies."

The boy looked relieved for a moment, then masked it. "Yeah. That'd be good," he admitted eventually, "but I'd have to check."

"Obviously. Can we speak with someone in charge?" Sveta pressed.

"My mother's in charge of the project. But she's busy. The attack caused a lot of damage."

"Is there a subordinate we could speak to?" I pressed.

"My stepfather's injured... I'll see if Mom's free."

"That won't be necessary, Christopher," came a woman's voice. "I'm right here."

And Kathryn Janeway quietly stepped out from the gloom.

"Hello, Chakotay," she said evenly, as if it had been a week, rather than sixteen years. I very slowly opened my mouth, and then closed it again, thoughtfully, lost for words.

In the end, Sveta took the initiative. "Kathryn Janeway?" she asked, as if there was nothing unusual to be talking to a living legend who, five minutes ago, was believed dead.

Kathryn nodded. "I assume Starfleet sent you," she said. I nodded. "And they're interested in our research." I nodded again.

"And your safety," I added.

"Thus allowing them to claim that their surveillance was for humanitarian purposes."

"Probably," I admitted.

"I see." She turned on her heel. "Follow me."

As we walked, she spoke over her shoulder, ignoring the others and concentrating on me. I had forgotten how intense she could be, and how intimidating that intensity was.

"I suppose Starfleet had a good reason for employing you?"

"Admiral Paris's decision. He seems to have disagreed with Starfleet about this action somehow."

"How nice." We rounded a corner, and the caves took on a more artificial look. Here and there I could see sensors and lights embedded in the rock. "You said you had medical facilities?"

"On the ships," Sveta answered.

"I'd prefer that we remain planetside, thankyou."

"We could bring medical personnel down if they're needed."

"That will be satisfactory. How soon can they be here? Our doctors were killed, and we have many wounded..." her voice trailed off, and I remembered the boy -- her son -- Christopher's words: "My stepfather's injured..." Kathryn had married?

I was surprised that I was so disturbed by that.

"If you take us to your infirmary, we can activate an EMH right now," I offered.

"Thankyou." Kathryn's manner brightened suddenly. "*The* EMH?"

I smiled too; finally some recognition of all that we'd shared. "The very one."

Kathryn grinned, one of her rare, lopsided smiles. "Wonderful."

Another corner, and we were in the infirmary.

It looked like hell. There were over fifty people here, with injuries ranging from disrupter burns to bat'telh lacerations. Pulling the Doctor's mobile emitter out of my pocket, I quickly activated it.

"Please state --" Doc's voice trailed off as he surveyed the damage. Then he jumped into action, demanding equipment and assistance, moving around the room and triaging patients. Sveta and the security team were quickly drafted for orderly duty, along with Christopher.

Kathryn stepped between patients, touching them reassuringly as she went. Finally she reached a Vulcan male who lay, bleeding, on a pallet. Kathryn checked his p'riallan artery. "He's in a healing trance. The bleeding should stop soon." It might not be soon enough, though, and she knew that as well as I did. But there was nothing that could be done; the man's chest had been sliced open with a bat'telh, and the wound was too large to simply be bandaged.

"Your husband?" I asked.

She nodded. "Suran." Both the icy efficiency and the lopsided smile were gone now, replaced by naked concern.

"How long have you been married?"

"Fourteen years. I don't want to lose him now. I've come to depend on him..." her voice cracked, and she stopped and took a deep breath. "I don't want him to die," she whispered. We were silent for a few moments, and then Kathryn took a deep breath. "I suppose we should talk about this -- mission of yours." She stood up and led me out into the corridors.

"You got married." I commented. Kathryn gave me a wry look.

"You didn't expect me to spend my entire life daydreaming about you, did you?"

I winced as I remembered the last time we met. "Well, no," I admitted.

She turned to look at my face. "I did spend two years waiting for you to turn up again. After I realised I was pregnant, I tried desperately to find you, but nothing ever turned up. It was like you'd left this universe all together."

"Then Christopher *is* mine..." I realised. The suspicion had hit me when I noticed how much darker than Kathryn he was, and from some angles he had looked almost like my mother.

"Yup. Not bad for a night's work, huh." Kathryn's mouth was smiling, although her eyes were still filled with concern for Suran.

"You don't seem angry..." I noted carefully.

"I was. But he was such a sweet baby. I was so glad to have him that I stopped being angry. I thought that he was my only chance to have children."

"But you have others now?"

"Two. Suran's." Her face glowed with maternal pride. "Sean is seven, almost eight now, and T'Shalla's two."

I looked at her more closely. Improved medical facilities meant that women could bear children into their late seventies if they chose, but Kathryn, at fifty-nine, seemed barely older than she had when she was captain of the Voyager. Only a few lines around the eyes and some grey hairs indicated that she was over forty-five. Years in space, with the limited ultra-violet radiation and controllable gravity, meant that Humans often didn't show their age until the late seventies. Obviously Kathryn was one of the luckiest ones.

We entered what was clearly a laboratory, with large computer displays and what looked like advanced physics experiments. It was mostly a shambles, though, with computers smashed and glass lying on the floor. Kathryn caught my gaze and made a helpless gesture.

"We were unarmed," she said softly, "there was nothing we could do, really."

"Klingons?"

"Who else?" Kathryn led the way into a private office, hers, I guessed, judging by the familiar items. She sat behind the desk and began calling up information. She spoke as she worked. "Some of our research could be used for military purposes. That wasn't our intention, in fact, it's no more than a footnote to our main work, but some groups are concerned that others might obtain our information before they do. Thus we were attacked by the Klingons." She smiled grimly. "No doubt the Romulans will be along any day now, and you're here in place of the Federation. I suppose it's just a matter of time before I find Ferengi agents offering to sell the research on our behalf, and the Jem'Hadar come to borrow it. I expect the Borg will come knocking on our door, too. It's so nice to be wanted."

Despite the blackness of her humour, I smiled. "If you want Borg, I have Seven of Nine up on the Trebus."

She looked up, surprised. "I noticed you have Doc. Who else do you have working for you?"

"Everyone. Neelix, Tuvok, Annika, Tom, B'Elanna, Harry. Vorik, Ayala, Jenny Delaney ... we did have Megan, but she got married and went to live on Bajor. Joe Carey, Parsons, Hickman ... even Kes has helped us at times."

"Hmm ... there's loyalty for you. I turn my back on the universe for a measly few years, and suddenly everyone's gone to work for my first officer. Did you just call Seven of Nine 'Annika'?"

"She requested it, after the last of her external implants were removed. She's come a long way, Kathryn. You'd be proud."

She smiled. "I never doubted that she would eventually embrace her humanity ... well, not much, anyway ... maybe a little."

I smiled back. Despite our -- difficult -- history, Kathryn evidently held noo grudges. I sat back in the chair I had taken and said, "What are you researching?"

Kathryn's smile faded, to be replaced with the intense gaze which had once had me running for coffee everytime I saw it. "It's like ... how do I describe it ...? Like another layer of subspace. Deeper, somehow, like a dimension within a dimension. It's fascinating."

"And it has military purposes?"

"It can. I originally became interested in it -- we call it null-space, because the normal laws of space and subspace don't seem to apply -- for its possible uses in propulsion--" she gave me a wry look "--I developed an interest in that somehow ... anyway, there are certain weapons which could be used in null-space which, although only moderately dangerous *here*, have the potential for mass destruction in null-space. You can see why people are interested. You could wipe out a planet with a hand phaser."

"I understand why you've become so popular lately..."

"Hmm ... anyway, null-space is fairly difficult to access, which is why you don't see more planets being threatened with hand phasers. Suran discovered it about fifteen years ago, by accident. He immediately realised its possible effects, both politically and physically, and began recruiting scientists to research null-space without the interference of governments or military organisations."

"If it was Suran's discovery, how is it that you're running the project?" I asked, fascinated.

"I was the first person he spoke to about null-space, and as I was more experienced in administration, he was happy to let me take over that aspect. Suran is the chief researcher in his chosen field, while I maintain the project as a whole and conduct my own research. We've found it works very well."

Our conversation had taken an awkward turn with the discussion of Suran, and I was almost relieved when I received the hail from the Rimanas. "Go ahead," I told Harry.

"Sensors have detected alien vessels entering the sector. They seem to be Son'a. They're heavily armed."

"Hell..." I whispered. The Son'a had declared a blood-feud with the Renatans after an unfortunate incident involving the Ba'ku. If the Son'a found them here, now, then there would be a massacre. And that was assuming they *weren't* interested in the Trojan group.

Yeah right.

...

"Battlestations," I ordered, and turned to Kathryn. "Do you want to evacuate?"

A split second as she made her decision, and then she said, "Yes."

To Harry I said, "Alert Sveta and the others, and have the Trebus, the Dorvan and the Rimanas ready to evacuate the Trojan Group. Chakotay out."

Kathryn was already activating her communications system. "Janeway to Trojans: we are being evacuated. Implement Code 47 procedures. Janeway out."

Standing up, she gestured that I should follow her. We stepped outside her office and ran over to a working console. "I want as much of our work saved as possible," she said, "help me download all of this. I don't want the Son'a to get our research. What we can't save we delete."

Around us, there were other scientists, all saving and deleting research. Kathryn led me out of the room and down another corridor, into a large cavern. In the centre was some sort of apparatus, four rods twisted around a chamber. She walked up to it. "Can this be transported to your ship?"

"We can't transport through the rock here."

"Our transporters were designed to compensate. You only need to supply the storage space."

"Cargo Bay 2 on the Dorvan. No problems."

Quickly, we arranged for the -- what? -- to be sent to the Dorvan. As soon as it dematerialised, Kathryn ran down yet another corridor.

"You'd better be quick, because I'd like to be on the Trebus before the attack begins," I pointed out.

"I just have one more thing to get," she replied.

We entered what looked like a residential area, better lit -- or it would have been if it weren't so damaged -- and more comfortable looking. Kathryn entered one particular set of quarters.

Crouched down on the couch were two children. Both obviously half-Vulcan, and yet, both obviously Kathryn's children. The boy -- Sean -- had paler skin and his mother's reddish brown hair. The girl looked like her father.

I was surprised at how jealous I was.

Kathryn ran over to her children and hugged them, and, despite their Vulcan heritage, they returned it. "Are you all right?" she whispered, and they nodded. "We have to go now," she whispered, "some people have come to help us. We're going to be all right."

Reluctantly, the two children left the safety of the couch and stood up. "Is Father all right?" asked Sean. He may have looked human enough, but his demeanour -- once he had hidden the fear -- was all Vulcan.

"He's in the infirmary now," Kathryn told him, "but he should be okay. And Christopher's fine."

"Good," replied the little girl, and I almost winced at the Vulcan-ness of her manner. How old were these children, and how could such an emotional woman as Kathryn Janeway have produced them?

Kathryn grabbed a few info-packs, the advanced bio-neural gel packs which stored information, and stood up, holding her daughter's hand. "We're ready," she said, and tapped her communicator -- a stylish civilian design -- and ordered a beam out.

We materialised in the transporter room of the Trebus, where preparations were being made for the impending battle. "Sir!" the young transporter officer cried, and snapped to attention.

"Lieutenant," I replied calmly.

"Sir, we didn't think you'd be able to be beamed out like that! The med teams are trying to evacuate the wounded, but there's not enough time..."

"Okay," I said, gathering my thoughts, "Kathryn, can you show Lieutenant Andin how to recalibrate our transporters?" She nodded. "Great." I grabbed another enlisted man. "Crewman, please take her children to the guest quarters, Deck 4, then come back here and escort her to the bridge." With a twinge of annoyance, I realised I was no longer sure of Kathryn's title. But I could find out later, I decided, and began making my way up to the bridge.

It was a flurry of activity as I entered; Tom Paris was barking orders at Annika. "Sir! We don't have time to evacuate the injured--"

"The transporters are being recalibrated as we speak. What's the Son'a's ETA?"

"They'll be within weapons range in five minutes," Annika answered, just as Sveta entered.

"Captain ... turning over command," said Tom, quickly beginning the procedure which would transfer the command codes back to her.

"Accepted. Weapons status?"

"Battle ready."

"Great. Chakotay, you'll be co-ordinating?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Have fun. Captain to all hands, prepare to enter battle."

I stepped into the Command centre, the area with the link ups to all ships. "Chakotay to fleet. Status."

"Rimanas is battle ready," Harry replied.

"All Dorvan systems are functioning at battle standards," Tuvok told me.

"Fantastic. Let's go, people." I sat back in my chair and looked out over the bridge. "Red Alert."

I was vaguely aware that Kathryn had stepped onto the bridge, and I wondered briefly what she thought of all this. I couldn't wonder for long, though, because the Son'a were hailing us. The exchange would be broadcast throughout the fleet, but I took it on my smaller screen in the command centre.

"Admiral," the lead Son'a greeted me. His name was Re'lafin, and the last time we met I'd recruited his clone, a young man, still looking like a Ba'ku, into whose body Re'lafin had intended to transfer his mind. Given that I'd stolen his last chance as immortality, I could understand Re'lafin's desire to kill me.

That didn't mean I sympathised, though.

"Re'lafin," I greeted him. I still wasn't sure whether he was after me or the Trojan Group, but either way, he wasn't getting anything.

"I was surprised to find you here, Admiral," Re'lafin continued, "I had believed you would be on your way to Romulus by now."

I betrayed none of my surprise that Re'lafin knew about the Romulan contract, and simply said, "A more lucrative contract came up."

"Yes, I can see that. Ensuring the safety of the Trojan Group. On behalf of the Federation."

"I'm surprised you would be aware of the Trojan Group, Re'lafin. I didn't think the Son'a Confederacy would be interested in a private science team."

"We became aware that the Trojan Group were researching certain subspace phenomenae, and given that their leader is of Federation origin, we were concerned that the Trojan group would violate our agreement with the Federation regarding subspace weaponry. I was sent to confirm or deny the rumour."

"A ... reconnaissance mission."

Re'lafin smiled, distorting his stretched features even further. "Exactly."

I had to tread carefully here; the wrong words would spark a conflict. "You seem rather heavily armed, for a simple reconnaissance mission, Re'lafin."

"We were concerned that the Trojan group would come under attack by less ... diplomatically inclined parties. If the agreement was not violated, we had intended to offer our protection."

Kathryn caught my eye; she wanted to speak to the Son'a. "Re'lafin, I have the leader of the Trojan group with me now. She would prefer to speak for the Trojan group herself, if you have no objection."

Re'lafin inclined his head, and I invited Kathryn down into the Command centre.

"Re'lafin," she greeted him. There was a dangerous softness in her voice, almost camouflaged by her cordial tone, which I immediately recognised. "I am Doctor Kathryn Janeway. I lead the Trojan group."

Re'lafin obviously didn't recognise her name. "Doctor," he greeted her cautiously.

"Re'lafin, the Trojan group is not allied with the Federation, or any other political organisation. And I can reassure you that we have no intention of violating your agreement's stipulations regarding subspace weaponry."

"And how do you account for the presence of the Renatan mercenaries? You *were* aware that they are currently employed by the Federation, weren't you?"

Kathryn didn't blink an eyelid. "As it happens, Re'lafin, I was. The only reason I've allowed them to remain in the system is because they've offered medical aid."

"And you are on their flagship because...?"

"Chakotay is an old friend of mine."

"Surely a relationship which causes a certain conflict of interests?"

"I'm aware of that, Re'lafin, but we hardly need the Son'a to deal with it."

Re'lafin smiled. "How true."

Something about his attitude disturbed me, and I quietly sent messages to all captains, ordering that they raise shields.

Re'lafin continued, "if you are not in any danger, then, we will depart."

Kathryn smiled, but I saw the tightening around her mouth; she recognised the deception as well. But despite both our fears, the attack still took us both by surprise.

Subspace weapons are notoriously hard to detect, although things suddenly exploding around you is usually a sure-fire indicator. Unfortunately, they're even harder to defend yourself from, as the Trebus was finding out now. I shouted orders to the Dorvan and the Rimanas, as Sveta tried to keep order on her bridge, but I knew we had serious problems. The first blast had knocked out our weapons, and we could only run.

The next thing I remember is the Command console exploding, and then everything went black.

***

I woke up slowly and painfully, to the welcome view of the Doctor's face hovering above mine. He looked up and said something, but it sounded like it was distorted by water. He received an answer, also inaudible, and then I felt the tingle of a hypospray, and everything went black again.

*

The second time I woke up was less traumatic. I had a killer of a headache, but my hearing was back to normal. With difficulty, I turned my head, and saw Kathryn sitting next to me.

She looked like hell; her face was drawn, and she looked like she'd been hit by a small shuttlecraft in the last hour. Her face was all puffy, with red blotches where it wasn't dead white.

I became vaguely aware that I wasn't in sickbay. It looked like I was lying on a pallet bed in the cargo bay. I tried to call out, but I couldn't seem to make any noise; Kathryn was close by, but absorbed in conversation with Sveta. Finally I managed to make a croaking noise, which brought Kathryn, Sveta, Tom and Doc swarming around me like ants after the nest had been stepped on.

Somehow, I didn't like that analogy.

"What happened?" I asked as soon as I could speak.

The four of them exchanged wary glances. "The Trebus was hit," Sveta said, "first knocking out the command console, and then destroying sickbay."

"Fortunately," continued Doc, "my preservation program transferred me straight here, but the transporters were down, so none of the patients could be transported to safety."

"We currently stand at forty-seven dead, and eighty-six injured," Tom added, "including almost all of the Trojan group."

Hell ... that would include Kathryn's husband too, then, which explained why she looked so dreadful. The telepathic link between spouses meant that she must have experienced his death first hand.

"Sorry..." I whispered, but I couldn't say any more. Kathryn nodded silently, and then, before I could protest, Doc sedated me again.

*

The third time I woke up, it was just Doc. The cargo bay was almost empty, and I wasn't in pain. I decided to take that as a good sign. I was experimenting with the possibilities of sitting up, when Doc approached.

"Well, it's nice to know *someone's* awake," he greeted me.

"Excuse me?"

"I spend years in the delta quadrant explaining the value of a good night's sleep to Captain Janeway. I spend almost twenty years in the Alpha Quadrant doing the same with you. And now I find myself serving under a captain who doesn't need my help." The Doctor looked almost hurt. "It's very disconcerting."

I smiled; Sveta had always been annoyingly sensible about such things. "Don't worry, Doc. I'm back in command, now."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"I beg your pardon?"

The Doctor's face took on a look of unusual concern. "Admiral, the convoy has essentially been disabled. We have 47 dead on the Trebus alone, we can't even communicate with the other two ships, and the only thing we know for sure is that the Son'a haven't left, and there will probably be other enemy ships en route to this region of space. You have no purpose in command of the convoy at this time, and in fact, you'll only get in the way of the engineering teams."

"Thankyou so much for that ringing endorsement, Doctor." Carefully, I sat up. "Is there anything I can do to make myself useful until the sensors are repaired?"

"As a matter of fact, there is," said Sveta behind me. She sat down beside me and smiled. "Good to see you're awake again, Chakotay."

"Good to be awake. What is it you want me to do?"

"Talk to Janeway."

Kathryn... I'd forgotten all about her. "She's not taking the loss well?" I asked.

Sveta looked worried. "We don't know. After you were sedated again, she went down to her quarters, and neither she or her children have been seen since."

Oh God, I hoped she wasn't too depressed. I'd seen what Kathryn's attempts to deal with grief were like. "You want me to ... counsel her?"

"Annika tried, but she was sent away. So were Tom and B'Elanna. So we thought maybe you could have a go...?"

"Good idea."

"That ... wasn't my primary motivation in getting her to open up, though."

"Go on."

"Chakotay, our situation is bad. There is no way we can get out of this alive without help. And I want the Trojan group to give us that help."

"Their research."

"Right. But the other survivors won't speak to us without Janeway's permission, and B'Elanna and Seven can't make head or tails of the information we've got. Janeway *understands* it."

I sighed. "Fine. I'll go and speak to her."

"Thankyou, Chakotay."

"Anytime."

*

To my surprise, Kathryn opened the door as soon as I'd rung. Wordlessly, she gestured for me to come in. The guest quarters on the Trebus were moderately spacious, but the three children -- well, two children and one hulkingg adolescent -- and two adults were enough to make them seem cramped. Kathryn glanced at Christopher. "Take Sean and T'Shalla down to the mess hall to get some lunch.

After they had left, she sat down and looked at me. "I've already sent away three sympathetic former officers. What makes you think you'll be allowed to stay?"

"I'm not just here to apologise for Suran's death ... although that is part of it." She leaned forward, curious. "We want to know if your research can be used to get us out of this predicament."

"In what way?"

"You mentioned that your theories and technology could be used for propulsion and weaponry. What about shields?"

Kathryn leaned back, understanding. "You want protection from subspace weapons."

"Exactly."

She tilted her head thoughtfully, picked up a padd and began looking through its contents. "Maybe," she decided finally. "But I need to decide how. We could either channel the Son'a weapons through null-space, making null-space shields effective, or we can apply the theories behind null-space shields to subspace." She stood up decisively. "I'll need as many engineers as you can spare. B'Elanna and Seven, at least. If we split up into two teams, we can find the most effective way to create a defence." Kathryn glanced up at me and smiled. "Almost like old times, isn't it?"

She walked into one of the small bedrooms and began searching through padds. I stepped inside, unsure of how far I could follow her. She noticed my hesitation and smiled. "I wasn't fair to Tom and B'Elanna, you know. Or Seven. I should have been more patient with them."

"You could make it up to them by saving their lives."

"But it goes beyond that. If I had fought harder to keep the crew together in the alpha quadrant ... fought for postings to the same ships or positions in the same areas ... maybe we wouldn't have been split up like this."

"You're saying that you didn't try hard enough?" She nodded. "Kathryn, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! You worked your damn butt off trying to persuade Starfleet to keep us together, and don't ever even think that you didn't try hard enough."

"There are other things too ... times when I should have taken more trouble in my relationships ... I shouldn't have just disappeared like that. But I was stuck in a position I hated, and it seemed like everyone was happy ... at least, everyone in Starfleet was happy ... although you, Tom and B'Elanna and most of the Maquis were off on you own ... but on the odd occasion that I heard from you you seemed happy enough."

I smiled, remembering the only time we'd seen each other since the foundation of the Renatans. "That was an odd occasion, wasn't it?"

She grinned at the memory. She had been promoted to admiral and stuck commanding Deep Space 2, home to diplomats, socialites and the upper-class the Federation claims not to have. I had been on a covert mission, sending an ambassador a less-than-friendly-message from his government (when the Illycrians decide to fire someone, they go about it in a very serious fashion. Fortunately, I was able to avoid killing her on that occasion). Neither Kathryn nor I had expected to encounter each other, and when that quiet dinner had become something more passionate, I think we were both shocked at how dependent on the other we really were. But I couldn't reveal my identity, she couldn't leave her job, and in the end, I left. In retrospect, I should at least have said goodbye, or let her know how to contact me, but I had been unsure of how to do so without attracting unwanted attention.

It had never even occurred to me that there might have been a child. A few years later, Kathryn abruptly disappeared. She had stayed in close contact with most of the crew, but after she left, many found they had nothing else to keep them in Starfleet. And so I inherited most of them, building a private fleet as renowned for its scientific acumen as its fighting ability.

Kathryn put her collection of padds in a carry case and stood up. "I'm ready. Let's see if we can't get ourselves out of this mess."

***

B'Elanna and Seven were in conference with the senior engineers when Kathryn swept into the room as though she owned it. B'Elanna stopped speaking as soon as she saw Kathryn, obviously relieved that our former captain hadn't slashed her wrists in despair. Seven's response was more subtle, but I could tell by her eyes that she was glad to see Kathryn too. Collecting herself, B'Elanna said to me, "We'll have intership communications in half an hour, Chakotay, but shields are still useless."

Kathryn seated herself at the table. "I think I can do something about that." She retrieved a padd from its case and handed it to B'Elanna, who read through it. Finally B'Elanna admitted defeat. "I don't understand these equations at all. They're completely beyond me."

Years of exposure to humanity had failed to give Seven any more than the most rudimentary sense of humility. She took the padd out of B'Elanna's hand and read through it. "Your concepts are revolutionary," she told Kathryn at last, "but I am familiar with some of these theories. Our shield generators will require extensive refiguration, but I believe that your ideas are workable." She paused for a moment and added, "although some of the basic schematics are inefficient."

Kathryn's mouth twitched, and I was glad to see that she was taking her loss well. "It's not only my work. In fact, I've contributed very little to the whole project."

"You do understand these equations, though?" asked B'Elanna.

"Of course."

When I left, the three women, and the rest of the engineering staff, were clustered over the padds, heatedly debating various points of interest.

***

We met again four hours later. The ships had been repaired, communication reinstated, contact restored.

I felt like hell.

My Tessa was dead. A plasma fire on the bridge. We were lucky, I knew, to have escaped with so few casualties -- from that accident, at least -- although Harry was still unconscious while the surgeons dealt with his burns -- but Tessa had meant so much to me. And now she was gone. Like everyone else I had loved, it seemed.

As if hearing my thoughts, Kathryn and Sveta turned and looked at me. I'd seen them speaking quietly, I suspected they were conferring about my mental state. And my fitness to command? Perhaps -- although why that would be any of Kathryn's business was beyond me. Unless Sveta planned to become admiral and appoint Kathryn as captain of the Trebus, but surely that was ridiculous.

I became aware that the room had become silent; my crew -- and guests -- waited for me to take charge.

I pushed my feelings for Tessa -- and my confusion about Kathryn and this son I had just acquired -- out of the way and became the Admiral again.

Annika opened the meeting with a brief explanation of the Trojan Project's ideas. Evidently she was now completely familiar with the material. "The Trojan Group's research has dealt with a layer of space they have labelled 'null-space'. This layer seems to exist within subspace, and can be accessed with a particular form of technology developed by the Trojan Group. This technology is properly called the Sub-Null-space dimensional compensator, although, for convenience, it has been nicknamed 'Bert.' Bert operates within a radius large enough to contain all three Renatan vessels, giving them protection from subspace weapons and all conventional sensors."

Sveta turned to Kathryn. "Why couldn't you use Bert to shield Cassandra?" she asked.

"Like a warp engine, Bert isn't functional under planetary conditions ... at least, he is, but not if you want a planet left afterwards." Kathryn took a deep breath. "There is a larger version of Bert, the prototype we nicknamed Ernie, buried on Cassandra. After we finished the preliminary tests, we decided to keep Ernie as a self-destruct if necessary."

"What effects would Ernie have on the system?" asked B'Elanna, who had the gleam in her eye that suggested she was visualising a large explosion.

Kathryn smiled, she was obviously having the same thoughts. I could foresee pyrotechnics on the horizon. "It would completely disrupt everything," she said, "on every known level of space."

"So ... if we could get out fast enough ... but the Son'a were still in the system ... Kathryn, is there a remote control for Ernie?"

Kathryn's smile grew even wider. "It's in my pocket right now."

"What about Bert," I asked, "I presume it was part of the equipment we beamed up to the Dorvan?"

Kathryn nodded. "Precisely. We wouldn't be able to accomplish the same effects without a planet, though. In space, Bert's only good for shield augmentation and propulsion."

"What's the limit of propulsion?" asked Sveta.

Kathryn looked smug. "Seventy thousand light years in six months. After that he'd need refuelling."

An idea took root in my head and, almost without thinking, I said, "You know, there's this little planet in the delta quadrant that's just begging to be colonised..."

"You can't be serious," Kathryn said, but I could see that the idea -- ridiculous as it was -- half appealed to her. "Why?"

"Kathryn, in the Alpha Quadrant, everyone knows about and wants Bert. In the Delta quadrant --"

"Everyone will find out about and decide they want Bert. Chakotay, I think I'd rather turn Bert over to the Borg than give him to the Kazon."

"We wouldn't have to keep him, though," observed B'Elanna, "we could destroy him as soon as we found a suitable planet."

"B'Elanna!" came Tom over the comm-link between the Trebus and the Rimanas, "we can't just take a one-way trip out to the delta quadrant. We have families. Obligations."

"I know it's not an ideal solution," I placated him, "but it's an acceptable back-up plan." I glanced at Kathryn, this woman who would rather let her children die in an inferno than give up her research.

"We'll put it on the back burner then," Sveta decided, but I saw her exchange a worried glance with Kathryn.

They confronted me after the meeting. The engineers and other officers had scattered, preparing to transfer Bert from the Dorvan to the Trebus. Now only Kathryn and Sveta remained, one icy, the other fiery, both in a confrontational mood. Kathryn's hands were on her hips, her jaw was tilted; Sveta's arms were folded across her chest and her mouth had a cynical twist at the corner.

"Explanations, Chakotay," Sveta began.

I played dumb while my mind tried to open negotiations with my mouth. "Excuse me?"

"The delta quadrant. Your suggestion," Kathryn reminded me.

"Ah. Yes."

"Chakotay, I am not amused." In fact, she was furious; Kathryn's voice had that deadly whisper we had all learned to dread.

"Chakotay, I understand your loss," Sveta began.

"And I sympathise enormously," Kathryn added. She glanced at Sveta and amended that: "we both sympathise."

"Deeply."

"But we are finding ourselves concerned about your capacity to command the fleet right now."

Now I was furious. "And how do you rate your own capacity to command, *Doctor?*"

"I don't want to command, Chakotay. But I don't want my children to die because the captain of their ship was too grief-stricken to think clearly."

"You seemed happy enough for them to die on Cassandra as Ernie tried to twist space. Even my son, despite the fact that you technically required my consent before you could make such a decision on his behalf. Of course, it might have helped if you'd told me of his existence."

Kathryn's eyes shone with tears. "You have no idea how hard that decision was for me to make. And I am so grateful that I'll never have to press that button, knowing that my children are going to die with me. But you have no *right* to criticise my actions in raising Christopher. If you had shown any real interest in the relationship you offered me, you would have treated me a little better than an Orion animal woman or some Dabo girl you picked up on shore leave." Her voice had a tremor in it. "You would have at least said goodbye."

I couldn't argue with that.

Before the debate became anymore personal, Sveta stepped in. "This isn't about your replacement, Chakotay. And it's certainly not about your personal relationships. But I am concerned that your desire to leave the alpha quadrant is an extension of your grief for Tessa."

"And how have you reached this conclusion?"

Sveta shrugged, but her eyes were thoughtful. "I've known you for years, Chakotay," she said softly, "and your reaction to grief is to make some grand, pointless final gesture."

"This wouldn't be pointless. We'd be saving the alpha quadrant from eventual warfare."

"And isolating ourselves in the delta quadrant while we're at it. A Pyrrhic victory is nothing to crow about."

"It would still be the right thing to do."

Kathryn glared at me. "Chakotay, for years you told me to step back and develop a little perspective. Now I'm returning the favour. You have no idea how ridiculous your suggestion is."

"You seemed to half-like it back there."

"I was amused at the irony of it. But I don't like it." Kathryn's voice was trembling and her eyes were luminous with unshed tears, but I had seen her play the guilt card too many times. It wouldn't affect me now. "Please, Chakotay, I don't want my children to grow up in the delta quadrant."

"Perhaps you'd prefer a Cardassian POW camp? Or a Romulan labour centre? Oh I know, we'll let the Klingons use them as target practice, that's always good for a laugh."

The look Kathryn sent me could have liquefied a Horta. "I'd prefer that to a Devore relocation centre," she commented, "or a life as a Kazon servant. No, wait, why don't we see if Kurros wants Christopher for the Think Tank? Chakotay, *please*, let's be reasonable."

"She's right, sir," interjected Sveta softly. "An escape to the delta quadrant isn't much of a solution."

"I know it's not ideal," I allowed, "but it is a possibility. It's an escape plan. If we need it."

Neither woman looked happy, but there was no protest.

***

B'Elanna and Annika met me in the mess hall that evening. "We thought you should know, we support the delta quadrant idea," B'Elanna told me.

"Well I'm glad someone does."

"Kathryn Janeway is too closely involved with this project to understand its implications," said Annika. "She has a shallow understanding, but it is inadequate." She paused as we remembered Annika's own, ill fated attempts to build a biomimetic, cyborg-like starship. "It seems to be a ... common failing among scientists."

"What is your understanding of the implications?" I asked. Annika's brilliant mind had developed beautifully over the years and I relished her perspectives.

"This is a completely revolutionary technology. And in light of the extensive military applications, which I do not believe have been fully thought through, extremely dangerous. The alpha quadrant has been dangerously volatile for the last twenty-five years. It would not be wise to introduce another super weapon."

"I know it's a cliché," said B'Elanna, "but the alpha quadrant isn't ready for this. To release the null-space research to anyone would be a crime against sentient life-forms everywhere."

"Does Tom agree with you?"

"I haven't spoken to him since the meeting. I thought this should be for your ears first."

Annika handed me a padd. "This contains my analysis of the implications of the Trojan Group's research. It presents a compelling argument for the relocation to the delta quadrant of anyone associated with this research or rescue mission."

"And as the idea alternative to relocation?"

B'Elanna and Annika exchanged uncomfortable glances. Finally B'Elanna said, "You know, Bert will make an incredible explosion."

***

"... and in light of this information, I feel that no part of the null-space information can be allowed to remain in the alpha quadrant."

"I agree. Reluctantly," said Harry. His face was still scarred but Doctor Relan assured me that he would recover completely from the plasma burns.

"I hate this," sighed Tom, "but I feel the same way."

I turned to my flagship captain. "Sveta?"

"Annika's right. The implications weren't fully understood by the Trojan Group. We should leave this quadrant. Even if the technology and research was destroyed, the Trojans wouldn't be safe. And neither would any of us."

In my mind I could see Kathryn's face as she heard the criticism, but she had been excluded from this meeting for a good reason. This was Renatan business.

"I've made my decision. We'll rendezvous with Vorik and the Romulan expedition, along with any family members who wish to join us, in four weeks and leave for the delta quadrant shortly after that."

"What if the Trojan Group disagree?" asked Sveta.

"About twenty-five years ago, Kathryn made a unilateral decision which meant that we were stranded in the delta quadrant. Now I'm doing the same thing. Not everyone agreed then and not everyone will agree now, but I am the person who has to make this decision ... and I will stand by it. Always."

***

"No."

"Kathryn, you don't understand."

"We are civilians, Chakotay, not the Maquis. You can't just decide this on behalf of everyone involved with the project. There are innocent people involved here." Her voice softened. "Chakotay, there are only a handful of us who know enough about the technology as a whole to be a threat. The mistake was mine. Let me take responsibility for it."

"No. I can't take the risk that someone will manage to piece together the whole project. You're all coming."

"No. I won't allow this. I don't want my children to grow up in the delta quadrant, Chakotay, they have family here. They have a grandmother and aunt and cousins on Earth and a whole clan on Vulcan. How can you take that away from them?"

"What about my son? He has a heritage which - knowing you - he knows almost nothiing about. Isn't heritage more important than family itself?"

"You can say that, you have no family."

"I have a son. Or so I've been told -- I've barely spoken to him. And what about you? You've isolated yourself and your children from family for the last decade and a half."

"Our relationship has always begun in conflict," Kathryn mused. "You in the brig on Voyager. You in the brig on DS2. Perhaps ... perhaps one day I might look back and see that you're right. And that this conflict was what brought us back together again..."

"Would you like me to put you in the brig? It would provide some nice closure."

"No thankyou." She paused. "I will speak to my team. Try to convince them of the necessity of this relocation. But I don't expect it to be popular." I saw a crooked smile and a shimmer of tears. "We may find ourselves trying to unite two very different groups."

"We've had practice."

"Oh believe me, the Maquis where nowhere near as dangerous as a few scientific egos."

"I can take that risk."

"Would it be like a starship? We wouldn't need one leader. We'll be building a planet, something that needs to last for generations. Surely several leaders, from every group, would be better?"

"Of course."

"We'd have to destroy our work."

"There are always sacrifices. Nothing is built without something being destroyed first. Even something as theoretically benign as the Federation came at the cost of national identity and autonomy. But it survived. Even thrived for a century or so."

"It may live again. Experience a Renaissance."

"Not with the null-space technology. It's such a threat."

"I know. But I never wanted it to be like that."

"But you agree with me?"

"Reluctantly. And only with a small part of my mind." She smiled ruefully. "If I had been given time to think about it," Kathryn admitted, "I might never have destroyed the Array. I know it was the right thing to do ... but I didn't want to do it. My best decisions -- the ones that got me a chapter in the Command textbooks -- they were all made in the spur of the moment, usually after too much coffee and not enough sleep. So even though I don't like this decision ... I agree with you."

***

We left the alpha quadrant about a month later. Few families joined us; many were unhappy with the decision. Owen Paris understood, Tom told me later, but he was no less angry.

"History will judge you well," Kathryn told me as we stood together on the bridge. She wore the grey and blue uniform of the Renatans; she held the rank of captain but her duties were more general than simple command. "You've done the right thing."

"But your children will grow up in the delta quadrant," I pointed out.

"You're right. It's better than a Cardassian prison camp. Or any of the other variations on the theme."

"Christopher seems to like it this way."

"It's the uniform." Kathryn's eyes sparked. "He's discovered the power it has over young women."

"A valuable lesson."

"He's thriving in this setting," Kathryn admitted, "he could never have joined Starfleet, but he's always craved an ordered environment. I've never been able to provide that."

"I'm glad that I'm able to contribute something. Anything."

"You've contributed a lot. Not just to Christopher, but T'Shalla and Sean as well. Tuvok is lovely, in a Vulcan sort of way, and they adore Seven ... Annika, but you are like an uncle, father and big brother all rolled into one."

We were distracted by a call from operations. "All systems are on line."

I sat in my chair, Sveta by my side and Kathryn behind me. "Prepare to enter null-space."

"Entering subspace," Annika reported, "now activating trans-dimensional engines. Entering null-space in five ... four ... three ... two ... one ..."

The universe surged. And we returned home.

END

(Wow! After 10 months, it's finally over! Well sure, that's a long time considering some folk churn out 80 page works in half the time, but when you consider how short my attention span is, you realise what a feat this is.

Please forgive me for any timeline or continuity errors. This has taken so long to write that the whole thing becomes a blur and proofreading sounds like something a real writer would do. I am working on a new edition, one with a slightly altered plot and a tighter narrative. There's also a prequel in the works, detailing that little incident on DS2 which resulted in Christopher Janeway.

Speaking of whom, I'm sorry he's so 2-D. I had a lot of ideas, but the truth is, I lost interest in this for about 4 months somewhere along the line and forgot about them. Actually I'm sorry I even wrote him in; he and the other kids became something of a burden, as did Suran and Tessa.

Anyway, if you've made it this far, thankyou. I'm flattered if you enjoyed it, apologetic if it sucked and open to advice if you were neutral.)