(By Penny A. Proctor.  See Chapter 1 for disclaimers)

"It was very hard for them to come back to so much public attention, you know. Would you care for a canapé?"

Deanna Troi extended a tray of hors d'oeuvres to Jake Sisko with a smile that seemed as genuine as it was practiced. Thirty years as a Starfleet officer and twenty-five years as an admiral's wife had refined her social skills, and her Betazoid empathic skills only added to her ability to put people at ease. Jake shook his head, and she set the tray back on the table. "Kathryn Janeway was a very private person. Although she expected that Voyager would be the center of attention when they returned so much sooner than expected, she was not prepared for the media firestorm that ensued. A firestorm that you contributed to, Mr. Sisko, if memory serves."

"Memory serves," Jake said with a smile. Troi was still a strikingly beautiful woman, even at 105. Her hair had aged to a shining silver that framed her unlined face. No wonder she's Barclay's favorite therapist, he thought. I feel better just looking at her. "And it probably didn't help that the homecoming wasn't exactly what any of them expected."

Her smile dropped. "No, it wasn't. I still regard that as a shameful chapter in Starfleet's history. It was just chance that I was on Earth at the time. The Enterprise was at the Utopia Planetia shipyards for repair, and we had leave. Captain Picard invited several of us to join him at his family home in France. I remember, Geordie – Geordie LaForge – was watching the weekly briefing from Headquarters while the rest of us were outside on the terrace, having a glass of wine and watching the stars. His father had taken a posting on the Romulan border, and he wanted to see if there was any update on the reports of the epidemic there."

 

The conversation had tapered off, but they were enjoying the night. Captain Picard and Beverly sat side by side in chairs with overstuffed cushions, Data was sitting on a bench, and Deanna had curled up so that her head was in Will’s lap on a love seat. The pleasant quiet was broken when Geordie’s voice called from inside the house. "Troi, I think you should see this."

She was much too comfortable to move. "Tell me later."

"It’s Voyager. They say it’s back."

"What?" She sat up, shifting to fit on the love seat. Geordie had everyone’s attention, but Troi was the only one who had even a tangential relationship to the lost ship. "That can’t be."

Suddenly Geordie burst out onto the terrace. "I think it’s true, Voyager’s back but HQ is being really weird about it. You need to see this."

Troi was the first one to follow him back into the study where the monitor was showing the public conference room of Starfleet Headquarters. A handsome young man was facing them. Troi did not recognize him, but the banner on the screen identified him as "Jake Sisko, FNS News."

"To repeat, Starfleet confirms that a ship claiming to be the USS Voyager has appeared near Wolf 359. The USS Beijing has been dispatched to determine whether or not the claim is true. This was the scene just moments ago during the weekly briefing with Admiral Jack Hays, Chief of Operations."

The picture shifted, and suddenly Admiral Hays and Lt. Commander Gunter Mitchell, the press liaison at HQ, were standing on the dais.

"Commander Mitchell, why is Project Pathfinder closed today?" Forby Tel of the Andorian news service asked the question.

Mitchell blinked. "I wasn’t aware that it was, Ms. Tel."

"It is. I stopped by this morning, and there were two guards at the door."

Connor Fornier from the Alpha Centauri Times stood. "Where is Admiral Paris?"

"I assume he’s in his office, Mr. Fournier. He doesn’t usually attend this conference." As Mitchell spoke, Hays stood beside him and looked at the reporters with narrowed eyes.

"No, he isn’t." Jake Sisko stood. "He cancelled all his meetings today. Where is Commander Pete Harkins?"

"Are you getting at something, Mr. Sisko?"

"Project Pathfinder is under guard. Angie Harkins has no idea where her husband is. Neither does Cinda Paris. Reginald Barclay is also unaccounted for. The night before last, Voyager sent a transmission that it was in the Alpha quadrant. Why didn’t you mention that today?"

Mitchell was normally unflappable, but he looked rattled as he spoke. "Mr. Sisko, I assure you that if we had information like that about Voyager, we would have –" He broke off as Admiral Hays grabbed his arm and whispered into his ear. For a moment, Mitchell stared at him as if he couldn’t believe he had heard correctly. Then he looked down to his shoes and took a deep breath. "What is your source for that information, Mr. Sisko?"

"You know better than that, Gunter."

Admiral Hays stepped forward. "You are talking about matters which affect Federation security, Mr. Sisko. I demand to know your source."

"And I refer you to Section 12 of the Federation Charter. In case you’ve forgotten, it guarantees a free press, independent of any governmental or military authority. So, what’s Voyager’s status?"

"We cannot comment on rumors." Mitchell looked increasingly unhappy.

"It’s not a rumor that Captain Janeway advised Admiral Paris at 2245 hours on Monday night that Voyager had come through a subspace tunnel and was then less than 9 light-years from Wolf 359."

The room exploded with people shouting questions. Hays was red in the face, staring at Jake Sisko as if he had suddenly turned into an Aldeberan hydra. Mitchell whispered to him, then Hays whispered back.

Finally Mitchell returned to the podium. "I am advised that no announcement concerning Voyager will be made until Starfleet has confirmed that this message was not a hoax. The USS Beijing is en route to Wolf 359 and we will reconvene when we have Captain Harcek’s report." Hays strode from the dais before the last sentence was finished.

On the other side of the Earth, the senior staff of the Enterprise stood in disbelief. "What are they thinking?" Beverly finally said. "They should be celebrating, not acting like Voyager poses some sort of threat."

Picard’s expression was grim. "I’m afraid there are some who see it that way."

"Because of the Maquis on board?" Geordie asked. "That’s just silly."

"I’m sure that there are some who would like to see them punished. The Cardassians deprived segments of the Admiralty from getting their pound of flesh."

Deanna frowned. "I think the fact that most of them were killed should be enough."

Picard shook his head. "The massacre was tragic, but it was in the course of a war. The Federation First supporters want to send a message that threats to Federation security will not be forgiven or forgotten. Yes, I imagine that the Maquis on Voyager will face a difficult time."

Data spoke quietly. "We should not be surprised if the same is true of Captain Janeway herself."

"What do you mean?" Will asked.

"Since the Dominion War began, I have observed that the supporters of the Federation First movement have consistently increased the amount of control vested in Headquarters. We ourselves experienced the erosion of discretion given to commanders under the guise of coordination and shared resources. Captain Janeway has been out of the control of Headquarters for seven years. If she is lionized by the public, she may be perceived as a threat to the philosophy of centralized control."

Picard nodded slowly. "You may be right, Data. Sadly, you may be right."

 

"Interesting that Data saw the agenda first." Jake helped himself to another bit of salmon on a cracker. "I don’t think about androids paying attention to human politics."

"He was a keen observer of humanity, and very astute." Deanna smiled sadly. "Well, as you know, there wasn’t anything more on the story for two days, until Starfleet made the last minute announcement that Voyager was coming into Spacedock. I saw that as it happened; we monitored the channel after the first announcement, in case anything developed."

 

"This is Jake Sisko, for the Federation News Service from Spacedock. The USS Voyager came home today, at least sixty-three years sooner than anyone had a right to expect. Its return, which would seem to this reporter to be a cause for rejoicing, has been treated by Starfleet with secrecy and reservation. There could be no reservations, though, for the families of the crew who disembarked today for the first time in seven years."

Jake stopped talking as the replay ran. A man with curly red hair in an out-of date gold uniform stepped out of the docking hatch onto the red carpet, and looked around uncertainly. Suddenly two teen-aged boys with equally red hair tackled him and the three of them tumbled to the carpet, rolling as a group until a slender woman with honey brown hair came and stood beside them. "Joe," was all she said, but the rolling ceased and the officer stood. His face was a study in emotion and he opened his mouth, but no words came out. Then he pulled her into his arms and began to sob.

The scene cut to another officer, a blonde ensign in a sciences uniform, who held the hand of a girl as they left the ship. The girl was young, not yet ten, and it was evident that she was at least partially Ktarian. Then a man's voice shouted, "Samantha!" and a Ktarian male ran forward. He dropped to his knees in front of the girl and looked at her as if she were the most precious jewel in the universe. He looked up to the ensign and then at the girl again, then held his arms open to them both.

The last person to step out of the docking ring was Captain Janeway herself. For someone who had just brought a ship 75,000 light years in only seven years, she looked somber. Two officers, apparently not from Voyager since they wore current uniforms, followed at a discreet distance. She was about two-thirds of way down the red carpet when suddenly there was a disturbance in the crowd and an Irish setter came bounding toward her, dragging a leash in her wake. The dog leaped up, placing its paws on Janeway’s shoulders and began licking her face.

The Captain said, "Bear? Oh, Bear," and smiled for the first time, accepting the canine affection and scratching the dog behind its ears. Then two women pushed their way onto the carpet. The younger of the two picked up the leash and gently chastised the dog.

The older woman, as petite as Janeway, stood for a moment looking at the Captain with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then she stepped closer and cupped the Captain’s chin. "I knew I’d see that beautiful face again."

Kathryn Janeway, starship captain, said only, "Mom." Then they were embracing tightly, each of them crying quietly. Then the younger woman dropped the leash and joined the hug while the dog wagged its tail and looked for a chance to break into the huddle.

"Captain Janeway was reunited with her mother and sister for barely three minutes before Starfleet security forces escorted her to Headquarters," Jake said over the scene. "Despite the heroic efforts that brought Voyager home, Starfleet apparently intends to hold Captain Janeway pending the possibility of formal charges.

"The observant among you may have noticed that none of the former Maquis members of Janeway's crew were permitted to disembark. Commander Chakotay, Lt. Thomas Paris, Lt. B’Elanna Torres and the others are also being held pending possible charges. Their families still wait for the chance to see their loved ones again."

"We all left France for San Francisco the next day. We weren’t sure what we could do, but we figured we had a better chance of doing something there rather than remaining in France. Beverly had a house in Sausalito, and we made that our new home base."

"Why?" Jake asked, genuinely curious. "None of you had any real connection to Janeway or to Voyager. Why were you all so interested?"

"It’s hard to say. We all had the feeling that something bad was happening to Voyager, something that needed to be corrected before it affected all of us. I think it was the Captain that reminded us of the old saying – ‘all that is needed for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing.’ We had no idea what we could do, but we had to find out."

"I imagine that Captain Picard had some pretty good sources in HQ," Jake said with a smile. His father had maintained a network of support staff and non-comms who could be counted on to be in the know; it was not hard to guess that Picard, one of the most politically savvy officers in the history of Starfleet, would have an even more extensive network.

"Yes, but the key information came from one of Will's contacts." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "It turned out that an old friend of his was working as Admiral Necheyev's secretary. That's how we found out what was really going on."

 

Will and Deanna sat in a corner booth in a bar in the Tenderloin district, dressed in civilian clothes and trying to look inconspicuous. They needn't have worried; it was clear that the patrons of the bar made a habit of consciously ignoring strangers. "Are you sure this is the place?" Deanna asked for the third time. Will's friend was more than half an hour late.

"Yes, I’m sure. Maybe something happened." Will frowned as he poured himself a glass from the pitcher of truly dreadful beer they had ordered. "You know, this stuff kind of grows on you."

She pretended to take a sip from her very full glass. "You can have the headache tomorrow, not me."

He grinned at her. "You know, you need to get into the spirit of this a little more. After all, you're supposed to be my companion for the evening."

"So?"

"So, you should act more … companionable."

A slow, sultry smile crept across her face. "Like this, lover?" she purred as she leaned into him. One hand closed over his thigh as her mouth came closer to his. Fingernails dug through pants and into skin as she kissed him lightly. "Don't push it, Will," she whispered as he struggled not to show his discomfort. "I don't like this place, I don't like it at all."

"Well, look who's here," a voice said, and they both sat upright. A willowy blonde with a perfect figure, perfectly revealed by the black leather pants and vest she wore, stood at the edge of the table. A man nearly the size of Worf, also dressed in black leather, stood behind her, possessively rubbing her derriere.

"Join us," Will said. As soon as they were seated, he added, "Chief Petty Officer Cat Humphrey, this is Commander Deanna Troi."

"No rank here. My friend is Seymour."

Deanna felt as surge of amusement from Will as he looked at the muscular giant sitting beside Cat. "Nice to meet you, Seymour."

"I don't have much time, Will. We're due at a party in half an hour." From the look Cat and Seymour exchanged, Deanna decided she didn't want to know what kind of party. "Here's the dirt. Necheyev and Hays were the ones who hustled Janeway back to HQ for a private little meeting. Janeway was hopping mad, let me tell you. It's been a long time since I heard anyone talk to Nasty that way."

"Nasty?" Deanna asked, confused.

"Necheyev. Ever met her? Then you understand. Janeway told them she wanted her Maquis released and released now. I thought, go girl, you tell 'em. But they really cold-cocked her. They told her that if she rolls over and agrees to retire with a reduction in rank, they'll let the Maquis go."

Will looked at her in disbelief. "Why?"

"It's personal for Nasty. Something to do with Janeway's father flunking her at the Academy, I think. Or maybe he refused to sleep with her. For Hays, it's different. He honestly thinks she's a maverick who could –" green eyes dancing, Cat straightened up and tucked in her chin. Her voice lowered and assumed the inflections of Jack Hays. "-'seriously undermine the discipline and structure of Starfleet if left unchecked.' He actually said that to her, Big Guy. He thinks that she was sleeping with that hunky Maquis and fell under his spell. He actually said that, too – 'fell under his spell.' Can you believe it? The man is medieval."

Deanna was still confused. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Were you in the room?"

Cat laughed. "Oh, sweetie, of course not. How do you think I've lasted all these years? It's not my skill with a filing system, let me tell you. I know things, and they know I know things. It's a symbiotic relationship."

"We gotta go, Cat." Seymour made his only contribution to the conversation.

Cat slid out of the booth, making sure that Will got a good view of her chest. "It'll be quite a party. You two want to join us?"

Will managed not to grimace as Deanna's heel pressed against his instep. "No, thanks, we've got other plans."

The blonde shrugged. "Too bad. Mighta been fun. See ya round, Big Guy."

"Thanks, Cat."

When the two were gone, Will said, "Well, that's it. They're out to bury her."

Deanna nodded. "We need to do something about it, but one thing first."

"What?"

"Exactly why," she asked slowly, "does that woman call you Big Guy?"

 

Jake almost laughed. Deanna Troi obviously relished the memory of that encounter in a Tenderloin bar. "Will’s sources were almost always women, but they weren’t always as memorable as Cat."

"She certainly doesn’t sound like typical Starfleet." He activated a padd, began taking notes. "So, Hays and Necheyev offered Janeway a deal before she’d been back on Earth an hour. They must have been planning it for a while."

"I’m not so sure of that. Remember, no one expected Voyager to make it home for another 30 years, so it’s unlikely anyone had actually planned for the event. I do think that Hays and Necheyev, especially Necheyev, were opportunists. They knew how to react quickly to get what they wanted. It’s how they advanced their careers."

"They tipped their hand, though." Jake reviewed his notes. "They told her how they intended to use her relationship with Chakotay against her."

Deanna looked at him thoughtfully. "Is that your focus? That relationship?"

He nodded. "The more I learn about Kathryn Janeway, the more I believe that her relationship with Chakotay was much deeper, and of much longer standing, than either of them ever admitted. And I think it just might be one of the great love stories of the past century."

She smiled. "You’re a romantic. Good, so am I. Unfortunately, there’s not much more I can tell you. Kathryn and I began a therapeutic relationship shortly after that excursion to the Tenderloin. I can’t disclose what I learned as her counselor."

Another brick wall. "I understand. Is there anything else you can tell me? Especially about why she turned down the deal. Everything I’ve learned about her would seem to indicate that she would have taken that deal. She never hesitated to sacrifice herself for the sake of the crew in the Delta quadrant; it would have been consistent if she had tried the same thing here.

Deanna inhaled slowly. "I suppose it doesn’t matter now if I tell you. The people involved are no longer at risk… no one knows about this, Jake, except those of us who were there. You’ll have only my word for it."

"I’ll take it," Jake said quickly, intrigued.

"All right. Did you know that Chakotay and the Maquis were held at the old stockade at Headquarters for three days, before they were transferred to the penal center? Supposedly, they were kept there for medical clearance and questioning, but I think it was also to help demoralize them. The stockade wasn’t exactly a modern or comfortable environment."

"I wondered. The records didn’t quite match up, but I was never able to fill in the gap."

"At the same time, Kathryn was placed under house arrest. They put her in the Visiting Officers Quarters on Headquarters grounds with a very restricted visitors list. One of the few people allowed to see her was Admiral Paris, and he was able to get permission for me to join him, for the legitimate reason of trying to persuade her to accept counseling."

 

"Admiral." Kathryn Janeway looked at Owen Paris with an expression of surprise that melted almost at once to affection. She extended her hand, expecting him to shake it.

"Too formal, Kathryn. Admirals don’t hug captains, and I am going to hug you."

Deanna watched with some surprise as the always proper, always formal Admiral Paris caught Janeway in a bear hug. After an instant of surprise, she returned the hug with matching affection. Although her empathic screens were in place, the emotions between the two were so strong that Deanna quickly had to readjust them to avoid "eavesdropping" on them.

When Janeway stepped back, her eyes were wet. "How did you get here? Mother told me you were under house arrest."

He shrugged. "That was just a misunderstanding. It’s been cleared up now."

"What’s happened to my crew? I haven’t heard."

"Don’t worry. Your ‘fleet personnel is free, with their families here on Earth. Tuvok and Kim are here in San Francisco, for debriefing, but their families are with them."

"And the others? The Maquis, Tom, Seven-?"

"Tom’s back in the New Zealand penal colony, waiting for a hearing." His expression was difficult to read. "My grandson is with me, though. Cinda is in transports of delight to have a baby in the house again."

"Have you seen Tom? You should be proud of him, Owen."

The Admiral nodded. "I have, and I am. Thank you for that."

"Don’t thank me. Tom turned himself around – although your new daughter-in-law had a quite a bit to do with it."

"So Tom tells me. Once we get this all straightened out, I’m looking forward to getting to know that young woman." He held her at arms length. "You look tired. Are they treating you right?"

She shrugged. "No complaints." For the first time, she noticed that Paris was not alone, and looked at him curiously.

"Oh. I’m sorry, Commander, I forgot. Kathyrn, this is Commander Deanna Troi. She was of great assistance to us on Project Pathfinder."

Janeway offered her hand. "Then on behalf of my crew, Commander Troi, thank you. You have no idea how much it has meant to us the past year to maintain contact with home."

"My role was minor," Deanna said, "but I’m proud to have contributed. You and your crew accomplished something remarkable."

For the first time, Kathryn’s smile reached her eyes. "The credit goes to the crew. They were more than any captain could have hoped for."

Owen looked around the small studio apartment with a frown. "You must be going stir crazy in here. Grab your jacket and let’s go for a walk."

"I’m under house arrest, remember?"

"We won’t leave the grounds. Don’t worry, I cleared it with Security. I’m not about to get you into trouble." He looked at her steadily with an expression she apparently recognized.

Ambitious young officers who are smart quickly learn to read the silent signals of their commanding officers. Kathryn Janeway had been both when she served under Paris, and if Deanna was any judge, she still remembered the Admiral’s body language. With a quizzical expression, she shrugged. "All right. I could use some sunshine."

Owen talked about the perfection of his grandchild all the way down the ‘lift and until they were some distance from the building. Finally he stopped. "I think its safe now."

"Safe?" Janeway asked.

"To talk. I don’t know for certain, but I suspect your quarters are wired for sound." Paris pointed down a path that led to copse of trees. "This way."

She followed, but looked at him askance. "You aren’t serious. They can’t do that without telling me."

"They aren’t supposed to do it without telling you," Deanna said. "There’s a difference."

The path continued through the trees to a circular green space surrounded by roses in all possible shades of red, pink and yellow. Janeway stopped. "This is new."

"It’s a memorial park, for those who died in the Breen attack." Paris looked around. "Kathryn, we have to talk about your next step."

"It’s going to be a short conversation, then. I’m going to retire."

"We know about the deal they offered you. Before you make up your mind, there are some things you should know."

"Owen, there’s nothing you can tell me that will change my mind." She looked at Deanna. "Are you JAG, then?"

"No, I'm not a lawyer. I’m a counselor. And-"

"A counselor? Thanks, but no thanks." Janeway turned back to Paris. "I appreciate your concern, but it’s time to go back."

"Not so fast, missy."

At the sound of the unmistakable voice, Janeway turned around. "Boothby?"

The ageless gardener ambled into the green from the opposite direction. "Welcome home, Captain." He held out a hand as if to shake hers, but when she took it he pulled her into a hug. "Well done, girl. Well done."

Janeway looked at him with a lopsided smile. "Don’t tell me you’re in on this, too."

"Damn straight. But wait – I brought you a surprise." He disappeared back up the path, disappearing around a corner.

She turned back to Paris. "Ganging up on me has never been particularly effective. You know that."

"We aren’t trying to gang up on you. We just want to make sure you have the whole picture before you make up your mind." Paris shook his head. "Just listen to us, that’s all I ask."

"Here we are," Boothby said, reappearing. He was not alone. A tall, dark man in black fatigues was just a step behind him. Deanna recognized him by the tattoo on his forehead, although he was better looking in person than he had been in pictures of him used on the news reports.

When Chakotay saw Janeway, he stopped short. The Captain also seemed to freeze for a moment, neither breathing nor blinking. Then they each took two quick steps into each other's arms. They stood, simply holding each other in silence. The emotions running between them were so strong that Deanna once again had to reinforce her empathic shields to give them privacy.

Finally they separated enough to look at one another. She reached up and touched his face. "Are you all right? I’ve been worried."

"I’m fine. We’re all fine." His eyes swept over her, taking in the dark hollows and pale skin. "What about you?"

She chuckled, but it sounded bitter. "I’m in the lap of luxury – the VOQ."

Boothby cleared his throat. "There’s not much time, you two. Sit down and listen to us."

Deanna raised her eyebrows. Although she knew of Boothby from Captain Picard and Will, she had never met him before. It was astonishing that anyone other than an admiral or high priest could get away with that tone with two command-rank officers, and yet Janeway and Chakotay sat, almost meekly, on one of the benches. "You’ve been gone a long time. A lot of things changed around here, and most of them aren’t for the better. We went through a war, you know."

"Yes, we know." Chakotay answered him. "With Cardassia."

Boothby nodded. "More to the point, with the Dominion and its allies. The Founders – the force behind the Dominion – were shapeshifters. They infiltrated the Federation, the Klingon Council, even Starfleet headquarters, before anyone even realized it was a possibility. It led to a lot of paranoia, let me tell you."

Paris added, "The war is over, but the paranoia hasn’t gone away. There is a significant faction that believes that the only way to protect the Federation from its enemies is to deal harshly with any threat, or potential threat. They call themselves the Federation First movement."

"’Firsters’," Boothby noted contemptuously.

"And they want to make an example of the Maquis," Chakotay said, sounding tired. "That’s not exactly a surprise."

"Just listen," Boothby snapped. "The Firsters say they’re protecting the laws and ideals of the Federation, but what they mean is, they’ll follow those laws and ideals as long as it’s convenient. As soon as they think someone might be a threat to them, the gloves are off. I hate to say it, but you can't trust them. They offered you a deal, Captain. Chakotay, what about you?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes not moving from the gardeners. "They said they would exonerate Kathryn and release my crew if I pled guilty."

Janeway's head jerked toward him. "They promised full pardons for you and the crew if I cooperated."

"You see?" Boothby nearly crowed. "They want the two of you out of the way. Then they can go after the rest of them."

As they sat, digesting that, Deanna could feel the conflict within them both. They didn't want to believe it. Finally, Janeway spoke. Turning to Paris, she said, "Owen? Is that true? Would they really lie to us?"

Owen Paris suddenly looked much older. "I'm afraid so. I told you that my arrest was a misunderstanding. It wasn’t. They were trying to keep Voyager’s return a secret, so they locked up the three of us from Project Pathfinder who knew about it so we wouldn’t announce it. Once the story broke, there was no point keeping us locked up any more, but you scare them, the pair of you."

"For god’s sake, why?"

"You’re far too popular in the media. You’re too independent. You remind people of how things used to be, and how they could be. You threaten their vision of how we ought to live – dependent on their judgment and their protection."

"I can't believe it." Janeway's distress was evident on her face and in the way she gripped Chakotay's hand. "It can't be that different."

"It is." Deanna spoke quietly, but firmly. "My assignment is on the Enterprise. Three years ago, we had orders to allow the destruction of an entire species - because it was feared they held the secrets of longevity. If Captain Picard had not deliberately disobeyed orders, a peaceful, creative people would have been wiped out."

There was a long moment of silence, broken when Chakotay turned to Janeway. "You were going to sacrifice yourself for us."

For a moment, it looked like she was going to deny it, but then she shrugged and gave him her lop-sided smile. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"It wasn't," he said bluntly. "We don't want our freedom at your expense. We never did."

"What about you?" she retorted. "Weren't you about to do the same thing?"

Boothby smiled. "Sounds like you've changed your mind."

She glared at him. "Understand this: there is nothing more important to me than the well being of my crew. Our crew," she corrected with a quick glance at Chakotay. "But I have no intention of being snookered by a bunch of desk jockeys."

"Good," Paris said, "good. But I have to be honest with you, Kathyrn. If you fight them, they'll throw the book at you. At both of you."

"I know," she said, suddenly subdued. "I've seen the charges they will file. There's everything from Hazarding the Vessel to Conduct Unbecoming an Officer, with a few violations of the Prime Directive in between."

Paris nodded. "They will make the case that you two became lovers almost immediately, and that your judgment was impaired as a result. They will say that all of your other decisions were influenced by your Maquis lover. I think Hays really believes it. I think that’s what set him against you in the first place."

She colored, but it was Chakotay who spoke. "That's ridiculous. If anything, she influenced me. And why would anyone think we became lovers so quickly? That's not what happened."

Boothby answered. "Someone named Seska said so in a log entry."

Deanna felt the combination of anger, shame and repudiation that seemed to radiate from them both at his words.

"That's it?" Janeway asked, her voice carefully controlled. "They believe Seska? Do they realize she was a Cardassian spy?"

Paris nodded. "Yes. But it feeds their paranoia and fits their agenda, so they choose to believe it."

"I'll be damned if I am going to let Seska win now. And I'll be damned if I give in to anyone who believes that lying bitch." Janeway’s eyes were cold and hard as she turned to Chakotay. "We can't let her win."

"No." His expression had become closed, and Deanna sensed that he was pulling in his emotions. Whoever Seska had been, her name alone conjured strong feelings in both of them. "But it won't be easy, I think."

"No, it won't." Paris looked at them both. "I have to be honest. It's going to be hell. Your lives are going to be held up for scrutiny in front of the entire quadrant. Every decision, every thought, every reaction you had is going to be examined and analyzed and criticized. And after you go through all that, there are no guarantees of a happy ending. You both could be convicted."

Distant bells from the Academy carillon signaled the top of the hour. Boothby frowned. "Ah. We’re out of time, I’ve got to get the Champ here back before the shift change."

Chakotay rose, and Janeway stood with him. They looked at each other as if trying to memorize the moment. He lifted his hand to brush her cheek with the back of his fingers, and she reached and held his hand there. "See you soon," she said softly.

He nodded, but seemed unable to speak. Then he jerked his head away from her to look at Paris and Troi. "Thank you for this."

They nodded, and he turned and strode back down the path. Boothby touched Kathryn’s arm. "Don’t worry about him. He’s a fighter. He’ll go the distance."

She smiled. "Don’t I know it. Thanks, Boothby."

As the gardener disappeared down the path, Kathryn turned back to Owen Paris. "So. What next?"

"I’ve got my contacts working on getting the right defense counsel for you. In the meantime, you need to brace yourself for a fight. It’s going to be ugly."

"Owen – what about Seven and the Doctor? And Neelix? Are they safe?"

He nodded. "For the time being. Tuvok got them to the Vulcan Embassy immediately and claimed citizenship for them, or asylum in the alternative. It will take quite a while to sort through the niceties. The Vulcans will protect them."

She considered for a moment, then turned to Troi. "Counselor, are you available for a new client? I think I could use a little help coping with this."

Deanna smiled. "As it happens, I am free for a few weeks."

 

"I have to stop there," Troi told Jake.

He nodded. "I understand. Thank you for telling me that much. I didn’t know about that meeting."

"As I said, no one did, except those of us that were there. I don’t think it matters much now if it comes out." She silently offered him another canapé, which he declined. "It was very hard for Kathryn to become such a public figure, but the media helped her case tremendously. As her friend, I want thank you, even if it is fifty years later."

"It was the right thing to do," he said. "May I ask you one more question? How did Captain Janeway manage to get away with lying on the stand?"

Deanna’s eyebrows raised. "Did I say she lied?"

"She testified she and Chakotay were not lovers in the Delta quadrant, and based on everything I’ve learned, that isn’t true. They may not have been lovers as early as Seska thought, but it must have happened."

Troi gave him a bland smile. "You're probably more familiar with the transcripts than I am. If I did know anything about the trial strategy, I would have learned it in the course of the counselor-client relationship. No, I’m afraid I have nothing to say on that point, Jake." She rose gracefully. "I hope you’ll excuse me. Admiral Lindquist and Ambassador Ff’Renil will be arriving in an hour, and I have to change. You’re welcome to stay, but I think you’ll find it terribly boring. Frankly, I wouldn’t be here myself if I didn’t have to be. "

Jake stood. Ambassador Ff’Renil was the champion filibuster of the Federation Council; in Earth’s oxygen-rich atmosphere, he could – and often did - speak for a full five minutes without the necessity of drawing breath. "No, thank you. I appreciate your time, and please give my best to Admiral Riker."

"I will." She shook his hand cordially. "Good luck, Jake. I look forward to reading your book."

-To Be Continued-