Jake Sisko looked around the cluttered office of Reginald Barclay, special consultant to Starfleet Engineering, and began to doubt the wisdom of his trip to Jupiter Station. Barclay was known to be eccentric, but somehow Jake thought he would be more organized. Miles O’Brien, who had worked with Barclay on the Enterprise-D before coming to DS9, had warned him that Barclay was brilliant but lacking much skill in social interaction. "He’s a good guy," O’Brien had said, "once you get to know him. The problem is, he’s a genius. You ever known a real genius, Jake? They’re brilliant, but they’re all a pain in the butt one way or another. Zimmerman, his mentor, just plain hated people. Barclay doesn’t hate people, but I think he’s scared of ‘em sometimes. Let him get comfortable with you. Once he warms up, he’s OK."

Based on that, Jake had expected to find a meticulously clean office, a reflection of a mind that prized mathematical precision above human interaction. The room into which he had been ushered was so cluttered that he had to lift a stack of padds and old-fashioned books off a chair in order to sit. Every possible surface – desk, shelves, chairs, floor – abounded with piles and mounds and clumps of papers, padds, engineering tools, and bric-a-brac. As he looked around, one piece of the latter caught his eye: a model of the USS Voyager. Jake studied it carefully, noting the attention to detail. Even the scar on the outer hull that showed repairs after the Hirogen incident had been painstakingly replicated."

"What do you think?" a voice asked.

Although he hadn’t heard anyone come in, Jake didn’t react. He knew Barclay’s voice from countless reports. "It’s an amazing replica. Better than the one at the Starfleet Museum."

"I think so, too." The older man came to stand beside him. "Look, I made sure you can see the scorch marks from the Borg attack under the paint. They didn’t do that at the Museum. They said it detracted from the ship’s appearance."

The old man looked at him, waiting for a comment. He was tall and thin, with a few wisps of white hair pulled across the top of his head. Jake had the sense he was being tested. "They’re fools, then. Or else they intended to detract from what the ship endured. Those scorch marks are a testament to their accomplishments."

Barclay grinned. "Yes. Yes, exactly. Sit down, Mr. Sisko." As Jake sat, Barclay removed what appeared to be a bowl of fruit from his desk chair. He waved it in the air for a moment, and then set in on a stack of padds that appeared fairly stable.

"Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Tom Paris says you’re writing a biography of Captain Janeway. I don’t know how I can help you. I didn’t know her very well. My, uh, contact, was mostly with the Doctor. The EMH, that is."

"I’d like to focus on the events surrounding Voyager’s return. You were part of Project Pathfinder and Project Voyager. You may have some insights which would be useful."

"Oh. Of course. Well, let’s see. I suppose the place to start would be when we first made contact…no, no, you want to talk about when they came home. That really began with the message. We were in contact with Voyager about once every six weeks then, and we’d just sent our regular message off. We weren’t expecting the reply that came back."

 

"Starfleet, this is Janeway. We have located a subspace tunnel that we believe leads back to the Alpha quadrant. As soon as we complete a reconfiguration of our shields, we’re going in. With any luck, our next contact will be to tell you that we are home. Janeway out."

 

"The Chah-mooz-ee Tunnel." Jake nodded, marveling again at the story. In November of 2379, late in its seventh year in the Delta quadrant, Voyager came across what appeared to be an intersection of two subspace tunnels. Fearing that it was part of the Vodwaar tunnel system, Janeway ordered a probe to be launched behind them, to track its origin. Not only was it not part of the Vodwaar system, the probe emerged at a planet Voyager had visited more than six years before: the home planet of the People of the Wind. Chakotay then realized that the chah-mooz-ee design that his people had preserved for millennia as a sacred symbol was actually a star map. Using his own sacred stone as a guide, they had calculated that the long tunnel had egress in the Alpha quadrant.

The tunnels did not occur naturally; they had been constructed eons before and had not been used or maintained for thousands of years. There were unmistakable signs of decay and Janeway figured that the window of opportunity to use the tunnel was closing fast. They took two days to completely reconfigure their shields to handle the pressures and radiation levels within the tunnel, and then they dove in.

"Exactly," Barclay said. "We tried to reach them again, but there was no response. For three days, we all held our breath. Well, not literally. Well, maybe I did, off and on. And maybe Admiral Paris. Off and on, of course - we would have died if we really held our breath for three days. We didn’t leave the control room, though. Commander Harkins and Admiral Paris and I – we stayed there, day and night, waiting to hear something." He smiled at the memory. "We didn’t even leave to shower. That’s when I realized that I’d finally belonged in the project, Mr. Sisko. When the brass are willing to be around you after three days with no shower, you know you’re part of the team."

Jake smiled. "But then--?"

"Oh, yes. Then, late the third day – I remember it was late because Admiral Paris always called his wife at 2200 and he’d been back for a while – a message came in on the Pathfinder frequency."

 

"Starfleet Command, this is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager. It was a rough ride, but we made it. We are presently located 9.75 light years from Wolf 359. Warp engines are offline, but repairs are underway. We will proceed to Earth at best possible speed. Voyager is coming home."

The Captain’s voice was a combination of triumph and tears.

For a moment, the three men stood unmoving, each wondering if he had heard correctly. Admiral Paris was the first to recover. "Voyager, this is Owen Paris. Let me be the first to say it. Welcome home." Tears began to fall down his face. "Welcome home, and well done. Well done."

 

"This is where things start to get confused," Jake said. "Did any of you know what would happen when you reported this to Operations?"

Barclay shook his head. "Not a clue. Admiral Paris called Admiral Hays from the control room, while Pete – Commander Harkins – and I were still there. He wasn’t as enthusiastic as we were, but he seemed pleased.

 

"That’s wonderful, Owen. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Jack. Can you spread the word? I need to get home. This is something I want to tell Cinda in person."

"Ah, Owen, I know this is a terrible thing to ask of you, but you can’t tell your wife yet. You can’t tell anyone."

Admiral Paris’s face began to darken. "What the – why? Good god, Jack, we should be calling the news services and getting the word out. The families of the crew should be told immediately."

Hays looked chagrined. "I know, and we will, but I’ve got orders straight from the top on this. I need you to come over to Ops for a debriefing now."

"Debriefing?" Paris’s expression had settled into a hard mask. After months of working together on this project, Barclay recognized it as deep anger. "Just who is going to be debriefed?"

"We’ll discuss it when you get here. Hays out."

Pete Harkins looked stunned. "What’s going on, Owen?"

"I don’t know. And I don’t like it." The admiral looked around the control room, gathering his thoughts. "Pete, Reg – get out of here. Out of the building, out of town. Off planet if you can. I’ve got a feeling they’re going to try to put a lid on this and if you two are still here, they’ll put a lid on you, too."

"But why?" Barclay asked. This made no sense to him. Hadn’t they been working for years to help Voyager get home? Why would Starfleet try to keep the fact that the ship was back a secret?

Paris shook his head. "It might be Section 31. I don’t know. But my gut tells me there’s going to be trouble, and if I’m right, we’ve got to make sure the public knows that Voyager is back. I’ve got to go to HQ, but you two – get going. And if they don’t break the news about Voyager tonight, find a way to do it."

 

Jake looked up in interest. "That’s not in any of the reports I’ve seen."

"It’s the first time I’ve told anyone," Barclay admitted. "You know what happened. They put Paris under house arrest as soon as he entered HQ. Pete got as far as his apartment before they nabbed him."

"And you made it all the way to Jupiter Station."

Barclay nodded. "Look, I’ve never talked about this before because…certain parties … were still in Starfleet, and I didn’t want to cause problems for them. They’re retired now, but I still would hate to cause them any trouble."

"I understand. Why don’t you tell me about it, and then we’ll figure out if I can even use the information."

Barclay nodded. "All right. Well, Pete and I left in a hurry, but before we did, we both made a copy of Janeway’s message and took it with us. We figured that no one would believe us without proof."

 

 

A light rain was falling, and the pavement was wet enough to reflect the streetlights. Reg turned up Mission, then skidded to a halt. If Admiral Paris was right, Security might already be at his apartment, waiting for him. He turned around and began to walk slowly in the other direction. Where could he go? And how would he, a virtual non-entity in Starfleet, ever get access to a news service reporter if he had to?

He stopped again. Reg Barclay might not know any reporters himself, but he knew someone who did. With a sense of relief, he jogged to the transit station and hopped a tram for Telegraph Hill.

No one was following him as he left the tram; he made enough wrong turns and sudden stops to be sure of that. The rain had picked up, and he was soaked. Finally he reached his destination, a restored row house with a view of the harbor. Looking over his shoulder nervously, he rang the bell. When no one answered immediately, he rang again.

An irritated voice sounded over the comm. "This better be important."

"Miles, it’s me. Reg. Reg Barclay. Let me in, I have to talk with you."

"Reg? Do you know what time it is?"

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s important, please Miles, let me in."

The door opened, and Reg stepped inside. He began to drip on the white tile of the foyer, and decided not to come in any further. Keiko would not be pleased if he dripped all over her floors.

In a moment, Miles O’Brien came downstairs, knotting the sash of a bathrobe. "What is it, Reg?"

"It’s Voyager. It’s all wrong, Miles, it’s all gone wrong."

"Calm down. Has something happened to Voyager?"

"No. Yes. It’s back, it’s back and Admiral Paris thinks they’re going to keep it a secret. I don’t know why." He thrust out his hand. "Here’s the proof. You’ve got a friend in the Federation News service, don’t you? If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours, I want you to give this to him.

O’Brien took the data chip, but looked at Reg dubiously. "If Starfleet wants to keep this a secret, I don’t think I can-"

"Admiral Paris said it might be section 31. I don’t know what that means."

"I do." O’Brien suddenly looked grim. "All right, Reg. Twenty-four hours, then I give it to my friend. What are you going to do?"

Reg looked around nervously. He hadn’t actually formed any plans yet. "I don’t know. I can’t go home, I think. The Admiral said to get off planet if I could."

"Do you want to stay here tonight? We can figure out something in the morning."

"No, I don’t think I should. If they find me, you’ll be in it, too. But thanks." He was starting to hyperventilate, and he forced himself to breathe easily, the way Troi had taught him. Then he knew. He knew where to go. "Be careful, Miles."

"Don’t worry. Just take care of yourself, Reg." O’Brien clasped his arm. "If Admiral Paris was right, you might be in danger."

Reg felt his eyes widen. He had believed that from the moment Admiral Paris had told him to run, but hearing a friend confirm it was more frightening than anything so far. He nodded, then turned and went back out into the rain.

 

Jake Sisko couldn’t help smiling. "And twenty-four hours later, O’Brien gave the data chip to his friend in the Federation News Service."

Barclay nodded. "I was still en route to Jupiter Station and didn’t see the broadcast, but by the time I arrived the news was out. Miles’ friend did a good job."

"Glad you think so."

Barclay looked at him in surprise. "You?"

Jake nodded. "That’s how I began my career, with FNS."

Barclay grinned. "So you’ve been on this story for a long time."

"Yeah. I never knew you were the Chief's source, though. He kept that to himself."

With a broad smile, Barclay stood. "I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Why don’t we see if Haley can fix us some lunch while we talk?"

Jake followed him out of the messy office, past a couple of laboratories to a surprisingly cozy kitchen. Haley, the attractive hologram who had let him in, was working at the counter. She raised an eyebrow when she saw Jake. "He must like you. He doesn’t bring most people here."

"I do like him, Haley. He was the reporter who broke the Voyager story fifty years ago. What’s for lunch?"

"Chicken salad. I remember that, Mr. Sisko. I was watching the news just before Reg arrived. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you."

Smiling, Jake joined Barclay at the kitchen table. "It was a long time ago, and I had still had hair." He had definitely inherited his father's hairline, and several years ago had adopted his father's solution – a cleanly shaved head.

Haley served them both, and joined them at the table. "Dr. Zimmerman and I were sitting right here when Reg came in and told us what had happened. He looked awful. Lewis didn’t believe it could be as bad as Reg thought, so he tried to reach Admiral Paris. His secretary said he was ‘unavailable.’ Do you remember how scared she looked, Reg? Then we tried to reach Commander Harkins. His wife said the same thing, and she looked even more scared. So, then Lewis tapped into communications from Headquarters to Voyager."

Jake stared at them both. "He could do that? Did Starfleet know?"

Barclay cleared his throat. "Ah, perhaps we shouldn’t focus on that. The important thing is that we found the orders that Hays sent to Janeway."

 

TO: Janeway, K.M. – Commanding Officer, USS Voyager

FROM: Hays, J.F. – Chief of Operations, SFC/SFHQ

RE: ORDERS

You are hereby ORDERED to proceed to Wolf 359 and hold position pending rendezvous with USS Beijing, maintaining radio silence en route.

Upon rendezvous, you are further ORDERED to stand down and transfer command to Captain Pavel Harcek and await orders.

 

"Yeah, the infamous ‘welcome home’ order." Jake shook his head. "Hays thought he was being so clever, keeping it that abrupt. He figured that Captain Janeway wouldn’t know what to make of it - whether it was part of a formal welcoming ceremony, or whether she was in trouble. I don’t think he expected her read so much into it."

"We told her," Haley said.

Jake almost dropped his fork. "What?"

Barclay looked at her sharply, and then shrugged. "I guess it doesn’t matter now. We told her, Lewis and Haley and I. I sent her a message on the Pathfinder frequency."

 

Captain Janeway, it’s me, Lt. Barclay. Do not respond or acknowledge this message. Listen, I don’t know why but things aren’t going the way that we expected. Admiral Paris and Commander Harkins are under house arrest and the only reason anyone knows you’re back is that I leaked it to the news service. Admiral Paris said something about section 31, but I don’t know what that means. I don’t think the Beijing is coming to throw you a party. I, uh, I don’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

 

Jake looked at him, astonished. That was the first thing in years that genuinely surprised him about Janeway or Voyager. "That’s certainly been a well-kept secret."

The older man shrugged. "I half-expected someone on the Voyager crew to mention it long ago. I’m not certain the outcome would have been any different; they were expecting some kind of trouble over the Maquis in any event, but Captain Janeway thanked me later and told me it helped them get ready for everything that happened later."

"It certainly explains what Captain Harcek found."

 

Dear Mr. Sisko,

You’ve asked me to describe the events on Voyager when I assumed command. I must tell you that even though that entire file is declassified, it is not a subject on which I wish to dwell. It is one of the low points of my career and frankly, the only reason that I am willing to dredge it up again is that I feel I owe it to Kathryn Janeway. I never had a chance to apologize to her.

Admiral Hays and Admiral Benari briefed me on the situation on Voyager before leaving Earth. I was told that Captain Janeway had fallen under the influence of the Maquis, and I should be prepared for resistance, either overt or covert, to the transfer of command. They said I could expect discipline to be lax, and they were concerned about the amount of influence the renegade Chakotay seemed to have among even the Starfleet personnel.

It was with that background that I looked at Voyager from the observation deck of the Beijing. The ship was patched, scarred, and battered but every effort had been made to bring it to specs. That surprised me. From what I had been told, I would have expected less attention to regulations. I was so confident that I would find a lax, rebellious crew that I didn’t stop to contemplate the meaning of all the patches, scars and dents. It wasn’t until later that I began to comprehend everything that ship had been through.

I beamed over with an armed Security detail. We were met in the transporter room by Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay and Lt. Commander Tuvok, all in dress uniforms – outdated, but still dress uniforms. Janeway had cut her hair since leaving the Alpha quadrant but otherwise looked remarkably the same. I noted the rank bar on Chakotay’s collar with some disdain. It seemed proof to me that Hays had been right about the influence of this rebel. I honestly had to fight the impulse to rip it off.

"Welcome aboard, Captain Harcek," Janeway said. She seemed to be blinking quite a lot, and I realized that she was holding back tears. "It’s good to see you. Allow me to introduce –"

"I am familiar with Chakotay’s record." I looked to the Vulcan. "Lt. Commander, I am surprised that you tolerated this farce."

Tuvok looked at me calmly. "If I understand your meaning, sir, I can say only that you are mistaken."

"We’re set up for the transfer ceremony in holodeck 2," Janeway said. Her tone was less cordial than a moment before, but absolutely professional. "If you’ll follow me."

It occurred to me as we left the room that none of them had so much as raised an eyebrow at the presence of the security guards. That made me immediately suspicious. As we walked down the corridor, I noted its condition. There were scars and evidence of heavy damage, but for the most part it gleamed as if ready for inspection. Everything shined and there was not so much as a thumb smudge on the computer consoles. Again, I was so focused on the probability of an attack that I did not consider what this really meant.

As we approached the holodeck, I stopped. "If you don’t mind, Captain." I waved Hernandez, my Chief of Security, forward. He ran a quick sweep with a scanner.

"No sign of weapons, sir. But there’s a lot of people in there."

"It’s the entire crew," Janeway said. "I thought it best if everyone saw this. That way, there won’t be any misunderstanding."

148 people, if Hays was accurate. If they turned out to be aggressors, we were in trouble. But orders are orders. "After you, Captain."

I followed her in, with Chakotay and Tuvok behind us and my guards behind them. There was a program running on the holodeck that created the impression we had just stepped into an auditorium. As a matter of fact, it looked like Armstrong Hall at the Academy. There was a reception line of officers waiting to greet us, lining the way to the stage. "Captain Harcek, this is the rest of my senior staff. Lt. Thomas E. Paris, Helmsman."

I looked up at the name. The convict, Hays had said. Based on a history of self-interest, he probably wouldn’t oppose anything Starfleet did. He stood beside a woman of obvious Klingon blood, and he introduced her, as if this were a formal receiving line at a Starfleet reception. "Our Chief Engineer, Lt. B’Elanna Torres."

Torres looked at me with the most even expression I have ever seen from a Klingon. Like Chakotay, she wore a rank bar instead of pips. Maquis. "Sir. May I introduce our Chief of Operations, Lt. Harry Kim."

Fresh out of the Academy when Voyager left. Probably devoted to Janeway. Watch him, Hays had said.

He looked younger than my son as he turned to introduce the next officer to me. "Our chief medical officer," he said, and I almost choked. No one had told me that the CMO was the old EMH-Mark One. It looked at me with the same smug expression that the damned EMH of the Tecumseh wore when he told me I was exaggerating the pain of a bat'leth wound during the Klingon conflict.

Then I saw who stood next to him and stopped dead in my tracks. The alien didn’t look like anything I had ever seen before. Short, yellowish, spotted and with hair like a hedgehog - he looked like a toy troll my younger daughter had carried around as a toddler. But his smile seemed genuine.

From behind me, Janeway said, "These are two civilian advisors who have been invaluable members of our crew. May I present Neelix, who is here as the ambassador of the Talaxian people."

"A pleasure, Captain Harcek," he said.

"And Seven of Nine," Janeway added, and it was then that I noticed the former Borg. I know, you might not believe that it took me that long but I was distracted by Neelix. When I looked up Seven of Nine, my eyes must have bugged out. My first thought was to grip my phaser to protect myself. My second thought was that if all the Borg looked like that, they would have much less trouble assimilating large portions of the population.

Janeway led me to a podium and looked out at her crew. "It’s been a long journey," she told them, "and one that required courage, dedication and hope from each and every one of you. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to serve as your captain. I know that you will show Captain Harcek the same professionalism and ability that you showed me every day. I do not know if there will be another chance for me to say this, so I will tell you now. You have done your duty in the finest tradition of Starfleet, and I would be proud to have the opportunity to serve with you again."

She swallowed, and then nodded to a boson's mate standing to the side. He raised a whistle and blew the traditional call to attention. Then Janeway stepped aside and let me take the podium. I was starting to feel a little confused, but I read the transfer orders, then looked at Janeway. "Captain, I relieve you."

"I stand relieved."

I looked around. No one seemed to be carrying any weapons. Perhaps this unexpected gathering was fortuitous. I opened the folder with orders from the Admiralty. "On behalf of Starfleet and the Federation, I am authorized to welcome you back to the Alpha quadrant and commend you on your tenacity and resourcefulness in returning so quickly. There are, however, some formalities that must be addressed before you return to Earth. I am ordered to place Captain Janeway under house arrest, pending the outcome of a Board of Inquiry."

I paused, trying to gauge the reaction to that statement. There was a bit of murmuring but nothing significant. Janeway herself nodded and smiled wryly, as if she had been expecting it. The next part was going to be pivotal. "I am further ordered to take Thomas E. Paris, parolee, and the Maquis renegade Chakotay and all members of his crew into custody pending arraignment on Earth."

The murmuring was louder, but no one so much as raised a hand. As it died down, I said, "It would be simplest if the Maquis would turn themselves in."

Chakotay took a step to the left. His expression was sad, nothing more. "You heard the orders. My crew, step to this side of the room."

Torres was the first, I noted. She walked past me without looking at me, her head held high. Tom Paris followed, but he stopped in front of me. "I assume it’s ok for me to join them."

I gestured. Then, by ones and twos, others stepped out the crowd and lined up in front of Chakotay.

Then Lt. Commander Tuvok walked over and stood beside him. Chakotay looked as surprised as I felt. "Lt. Commander," I said, rather sharply. "You were not a member of the Maquis crew."

"On the contrary, I was a member of the Maquis for several months."

"As a Starfleet spy."

"Do your orders specifically exempt Starfleet spies?"

"Of course not."

"Then with all due respect, I believe the order includes me."

Then Harry Kim went over. "Mr. Kim! I know you were never part of the Maquis."

That young man actually grinned at me. "In my heart, I was, sir." He took a place beside Paris and Torres.

Then everyone else in the room, except my own security team and Janeway herself, crossed to stand with the prisoners. I looked at her and saw that she was biting her lower lip, and her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears, but her shoulders were straight and her head high.

Chakotay also appeared to be deeply moved by this demonstration, and turned to me with great dignity. "Sir, I must inform you that Voyager’s brig lacks the space to hold us all. If you approve, we will confine ourselves to quarters."

For the first time, I began to wonder if Hays had been wrong.

I looked at the crowd and realized that except for the senior staff, every one of them had removed all rank insignia. No pips, no bars. There was no easy way to distinguish the Maquis from the Starfleet personnel. "People," I said in my best command voice, "this is very touching, but it is also foolish. Any of you who have hopes of continuing a career in Starfleet need to step aside, now. You’ve made your point."

No one moved. I saw that a girl of ten or so standing with a woman in a sciences uniform. She looked Ktarian. "Little girl," I said impatiently, "you weren’t with the Maquis. Go stand over there."

She looked at me with large, solemn eyes. My oldest girl used to look at me like that, whenever I had to ship out after a too-short visit home. "No, sir," she said without flinching.

Defied by a child. Perhaps Hays had been right after all; the Maquis influence seemed to be pervasive. "I am giving a direct order to all Starfleet personnel. Step aside."

Everyone took one step to the right.

"That’s the problem, Captain," Tom Paris said. "We’re all Starfleet personnel now. Or we’re all Maquis. We’re one crew."

I glanced at Janeway. I suspected that if she told them to, they would separate. There was no way I was going to give her a chance to demonstrate that power. "All right. You are all guilty of insubordination, and you are all confined to quarters until further notice."

They went peacefully, Mr. Sisko, and not one of them so much as tried a midnight raid on the kitchen on the trip to Earth. I had to bring some of my staff from the Beijing over to man Voyager, and my chief engineer, Kevin McMonies, practically beat down the door to my ready room after taking a look at the engines. "You don’t need me over here. I’ll send a couple of techs over, you won’t need anyone else. Whoever told you to expect trouble was a fool, Pavel. That engine room should be photographed and entered in a beauty contest. I thought you told me this ship lacked discipline."

"They’ve had a Maquis as chief engineer for seven years, Mac. What else should we have expected?"

"Never assume, my friend, never assume."

"They knew we were coming two days ago. Any chance they’ve cleaned it up since then?"

He shook his head. "Nope. That kind of clean comes from regular maintenance. And I can tell you this: those engines have been rebuilt more than once, and the core was ejected at least once. They've patched in more alien parts than I’ve seen at a Ferengi auction. Maquis or not, their Engineer did one hell of a job. I’d like to shake his hand."

I thought of B'Elanna Torres, the Klingon who had looked at me so steadily. "Her hand, Mac. And I hope you have that chance."

My orders were to impound Voyager’s logs, which I did. Normally that task does not include reviewing the logs, but by then my curiosity was piqued and I read a few. Then a few more. Then I asked Ops to see if Admiral Hays was available at Headquarters.

It was few minutes before the call went through. Hays did not seem pleased to be hearing from me. "Yes, Captain?"

"Sir, I think there’s been a mistake. You couldn’t find a more professional crew than this. They’ve lived by Starfleet regulations for the past seven years, even the Maquis. Not one of them poses a threat to Federation security."

"Thank you for your opinion, Captain. May I assume that the prisoners are under arrest as ordered, or does this sudden admiration mean that you have released them?"

I stiffened. "They are under arrest, sir. They accepted it without protest."

"It could be a ruse, Captain. Stay vigilant. Maintain radio silence until you are within docking range of Spacedock. Hays out."

That was when I knew what was going on. There had been a power struggle in the Admiralty for months, with the "Federation First" group trying to gain supremacy. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that Hays was a Firster. Voyager had been caught in the middle.

I felt bad for Janeway and her people. But I figured her career was shot anyway, after this. I’d seen enough in her logs to know she had violated the Prime Directive six ways to Sunday in the Delta quadrant, so her chances of a future command were slim, Hays or not. I still had years ahead of me, maybe decades, and I wasn’t going to risk that. So I did what I was told and took them back to Earth and kept my mouth shut.

And I’ve regretted it ever since.

So, for the record, Mr. Sisko: during my contact with Captain Janeway and her crew, I was impressed with their conduct, their professionalism and their loyalty to one another. I found Voyager to be a credit to Starfleet in every possible aspect.

Yours truly,

Pavel Harcek, Adm., UFPSF (Ret.)

 

"Admiral Harcek wrote me before he died," Jake said, "and gave me his version of the trip in from Wolf. It was very different from Admiral Hays’ version."

Haley sniffed. "Admiral Hays turned out to be a very unpleasant man. After two of his goons –"

"Guards," Barclay corrected mildly.

"Whatever. They picked up Reg and took him away, and Lewis was very unhappy. He called Admiral Hays and was told that Janeway had incited an insurrection against Harcek and that was why the crew was under arrest. It was a bald-faced lie, and Lewis told him so."

Barclay’s eyes suddenly lit up. "Do want to hear Voyager’s side of that story?"

"I don’t understand."

"Come with me." With all the enthusiasm of a child running downstairs on Christmas morning, Barclay grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him out of his chair. He took him into one of the side labs, and said, "Activate EMH-Beta."

To Jake’s astonishment, an EMH Mark 1 suddenly appeared before them. "Hello, Reg. I see we have a visitor."

Jake looked at Barclay. "He’s not-"

"No." Barclay shook his head. "He’s a copy."

"But I am an excellent copy," the EMH stated. "I represent the last project Dr. Zimmerman worked on himself."

"And he has all the memories of the Voyager EMH. This is Jake Sisko, Doc. He’s writing a book on Captain Janeway."

The EMH looked at him with interest. "Really? Why haven’t you come to me before?"

"I wish I had." Jake could hardly believe his good fortune. All the memories of the Voyager EMH – this was a treasure, an unexpected bonanza. Questions began tumbling over in his mind.

Before he could speak, though, Barclay said, "We were just talking about what happened when Voyager returned."

The hologram smiled. "That was quite a moment, let me tell you. When we entered the tunnel, we had only a rough idea how long it would take to reach the end. We knew what our velocity would be, but we had to guess at the actual distance. The map from Commander Chakotay’s chah-mooz-ee stone was approximate, at best. Seven estimated it would take two and a half days.

"It was a wild ride in more ways than one. There were strong currents and it took all of Mr. Paris’s skill to keep us from colliding with the boundary. Seven had been quite definite in her opinion that such a collision would be fatal. We had no one else with his ability – there aren’t many pilots with his skill, you know, although if you ever tell him I said that I’ll deny it – so I began administering stimulants after the first 8 hours.

"Nobody had expected the tunnel to be as bad as it was. When we were in the Vodwaar tunnels, there was quite a bit of debris, but nothing like what we encountered in the Chah-mooz-ee. The shields had to be monitored constantly, and B’Elanna and her crew were battling fluctuations in the warp field almost hourly. Even if they had been able to leave their stations, no one could have slept. We were pitching and yawing all over the place, and the stabilizers were off line almost as often as they worked. Besides administering stimulants to just about everyone, I had to treat a record number of spacesick cases.

"I was on the bridge to deliver another round of stimulants when Mr. Kim announced that the end was in sight."

 

"Hold on, Doc. I’m picking up the end of the tunnel. We’re going to be clear in 30 seconds."

The ship rattled more strongly. "Harry, are you sure?" the Captain called.

"Yes, ma’am. One way or another, we’re out of here in twenty-five, twenty-four twenty-three…twenty seconds."

No one else said anything. I didn’t know what to say myself. It was almost impossible to believe that home might suddenly be in our reach. I stood next to Seven at the auxiliary console behind the Captain. I was surprised when she reached over and took my hand in hers, without looking at me.

Then we could see it, the end of the line, on the viewscreen. At first it was just a tiny circle of blackness against the angry red of the tunnel but it grew rapidly as we approached it. I braced myself for a jolt, like the one we experienced when we entered the tunnel, but it never came. The only thing that marked our transition to normal space was the sudden cessation of shuddering and the return to normality.

"All stop," the Captain said.

It took a moment for the screen to readjust to normal space. The stars seemed to pop into place one at a time, filling out the black velvet expanse before us. And still, none of us said a word. It was as if we were afraid that speech might break the spell.

Finally, the Captain said, "Any idea where we are, Mr. Kim?" Her voice was restrained, as if she were keeping her excitement in check.

It was a long moment before Harry replied. "Captain, we are in the Alpha quadrant. Sector 343."

"We are twenty light years from where I predicted." Seven looked disgruntled. "Your map was most imprecise, Commander."

Commander Chakotay looked as stunned as the rest of us felt. "My apologies, Seven." Then he looked at Captain Janeway. "You did it, Kathryn. You got us home."

Mr. Paris let out a yelp that was more appropriate for a cattle drive than the bridge of a starship. "Yeeha!" In two quick steps he crossed the command deck, pulled the Captain out of her chair, and kissed her. On the lips. Then he did the same to Chakotay. I was somewhat surprised that the Commander did not object, but then the Commander also kissed the Captain and I realized that Paris’s actions gave him that opportunity. Mr. Paris was running around the bridge kissing and hugging everyone – me, Seven, Harry, even Tuvok, and just about everyone else was hugging someone. It was pandemonium.

The Captain, who was laughing and crying at the same time, recovered enough to tell Tuvok to open the ship-wide commsystem. "All hands, this is the Captain. It worked. Ladies and gentlemen, we are home."

I swear we could hear the cheers from Engineering on the bridge.

"All right," she said briskly. "Let’s find out what kind of shape we’re in so I can tell Starfleet when to expect us."

B’Elanna reported first, shouting to be heard among the celebrations of her staff. "The warp engines are offline, Captain. It’s going to take us about a day to get them up again, once everyone settles down." Then she paused, and said the most unprofessional thing I had heard from her in years. "Hey, helmboy, nice flying."

Paris grinned.

"Open the Pathfinder frequency, Harry. Let’s tell ‘em we’re on our way." The bridge quieted as she sent her message, and I think we were all surprised when the response was immediate. Admiral Paris must have been sleeping by the comm system.

His voice was choked with emotion. "Welcome home. Welcome home and well done."

Tom’s grin suddenly faded, and he bit his lip. He began to blink back tears. "I’m gonna see my dad," he said to no one in particular. "My dad’s gonna see his grandson."

The Captain laid a hand on his arm and nodded, then stepped back. She was suddenly pale and if I wasn’t mistaken, she was dizzy as well. "I’ll be in my ready room," she said vaguely, and walked away. She staggered a little as she reached the door.

I thought I was the only one who noticed, but Commander Chakotay did, too. We reached the door at the same time and I followed him in. We found the Captain on her knees, her arms wrapped around her chest as she gasped for air. Chakotay immediately knelt in front of her and lifted her chin so he could see her face. Only then did we both realize that she was crying. "Kathryn?" he asked.

"We made it," she gasped. "I – I thought we never would—" Then she began to sob in earnest, great huge gulps of air that must have burned her chest.

The Commander wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. He looked up at me, with alarm on his face. I checked my tricorder and spoke quietly. "It’s reaction. Partly to coming off the stimulants, partly emotional. She’s carried this burden for a long time."

He nodded, then bent his face against hers. I think he forgot I was there. "Shh. Shh, Kathryn. It’s all right. You got us home, love, just as you promised. You did it."

Her arms unclenched and reached toward him, until she was holding him just as tightly. In a few moments she calmed and stopped crying. Then she raised her head and looked at him with swollen eyes and a red nose, and saw that he had been crying, too. She lifted a shaky hand and touched the tears on his face. And then she pulled his head to hers and kissed him. She kissed him with the same ferocity that fueled her tears only moments earlier. He did not seem to be surprised by this. In fact, in just a moment, his hands were beginning to move to the fastening on her uniform jacket.

I decided that the medical crisis was over and it was all right for me to leave.

They didn’t come out for an hour.

 

Jake stared at him, feeling vindicated. "So, they really were lovers before the trials?"

"Oh. Oh, dear. I’m sorry, there are some things that are part of the doctor-patient relationship. You understand."

Barclay looked fascinated. "I never heard that part before."

The beta-EMH shrugged. "You never asked. Well, then we got the orders from Admiral Hays, and the Captain guessed that she was probably going to be taken into custody. We'd been in contact with HQ for several months, and of course the prejudice against the Maquis had been evident. The Captain also sensed that the Admiralty was not happy with some of her choices in the Delta quadrant. After we received Mr. Barclay’s message, though, we realized it was more than just unhappiness. She and the Commander called a ship wide meeting, and told everyone they not to be surprised if the two of them were taken into custody for questioning. They would do everything in their power to protect every member of the crew. And they told us that they expected everyone to cooperate with Starfleet and show them that Voyager deserved to be recognized for what it was – the finest ship and the finest crew in the ‘Fleet."

"Was the ‘one crew’ gambit planned?"

He shook his head. "Not to my knowledge. Although word might have spread in the lower decks, because no one came with rank insignia except the senior staff."

Jake shook his head. This was amazing. Not even Tom Paris had been willing to share this much information. Then he remembered. "Wait a minute. At her trial, Captain Janeway was asked under oath if she and Chakotay were lovers, and she denied it. How did she get away with that if they really were?"

The hologram and Barclay exchanged a knowing look. Barclay clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Ah, Jake. That is another story. That is another story entirely."

 

-To Be Continued-