In The Course of Justice
by Penny Proctor

"Good evening," President M'Renn said, her tail twitching from side to side behind her head. "It was just two months ago when I stood on a similar podium to speak of the accomplishments of the crew of the starship Voyager. Tonight, I must speak again of that crew, for in their return, they have unintentionally opened wounds that had only just begun to heal.

"I speak, of course, of the Maquis. Of the people who were the first to see the unwisdom of our attempt to appease the Cardassians and who refused to be pawns in the battle to come. They struck at the Federation and we responded with all the might at our disposal. We called them enemy, we hunted them, and when we found them, we either killed them or punished them."

Kathryn tensed and felt Chakotay do the same. The President's words seemed hopeful, but Kathryn was almost afraid to hope. It would hurt too much to be wrong.

The President continued, "The time has come to acknowledge, once and for all, that the Maquis were right. The Federation discarded them as citizens and abandoned them to the occupation of a ruthless tyranny. In fighting back, they did nothing more than any of us would do to protect our homes and our families.

"The time has come to acknowledge the mistake that was made and to reach out to the worlds who have not yet learned to trust the Federation again. The time has come to take a stand.

"And therefore, earlier this evening I executed three documents. The first is a pardon for all persons convicted or charged with crimes against the Federation arising from their participation in the Maquis, excepting those convicted of treason or espionage. For all others, it shall be as if the conviction never happened. Those who are currently in prison shall be released with all due speed.

"The second document is a general amnesty for anyone who participated in the Maquis but has not yet been charged. This includes not only members of Voyager's crew, but those who have feared to return to Earth or other Federation worlds. No one, no matter what their crime may have been, may be indicted, charged or prosecuted for their actions in the Maquis. That book is, finally and irrevocably, closed."

Kathryn stood absolutely still, struggling to believe what she had just heard. Chakotay held on to her tightly, his head bowed until the President's words penetrated again, and then he snapped up to look at the screen.

"...one more lesson from Voyager: redemption. In the past month, I have met with members of the Voyager Family Association, the Talaxian Ambassador, the Vulcan Ambassador and several representatives of Starfleet Command. I have received countless letters from ordinary citizens as well as officers and councilors. It has been made clear to me that with courage, determination and integrity, one individual can overcome past mistakes and earn a second chance. And so, the final document I signed this evening was signed in my capacity as Commander-In-Chief of Starfleet. In recognition of his dedication and performance of the past eight years, Starfleet is instructed to accept Thomas E. Paris as an officer in the regular service should he so apply."

Kathryn whirled around to stare at the monitor again, never leaving the circle of Chakotay's arms. Oh, Tom. But what about the others? What about the Equinox crew?

"This is an extraordinary measure, but -" and for the first time, she smiled "-this is an extraordinary occasion. I do not expect we shall see its like in my lifetime. Tonight, we begin a new era. The call for justice for the wrongs of the past decade must now give way to the healing balm of mercy. Was it not Earth's greatest poet who said, 'we do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy'? Wise words, indeed. It is time we live them as well as memorize them. Good night."

M'renn turned and left the podium, serenely ignoring the shouts of reporters. An announcer's voice began to speak, but Kathryn touched the control to terminate the connection. When she turned to face him, she could feel the sting of tears in her eyes. She started to say something, but she had no words. No words at all.

Neither did he, apparently. He simply pulled her to him and held her.

After a little while, she whispered, "We're home. We're finally home."

EPILOGUE

Monday, February 25, 2380
(1455 hours, Starfleet Standard time)

Harry took one last look down the center concourse of Spacedock and decided he had waited as long as he could. His orders said to report to the Enterprise at 15:00 hours and he intended to be there at 15:00 hours on the dot. The scuttlebutt claimed Picard was a stickler for punctuality, and having met the man briefly, Harry found that easy to believe. With a twinge of regret he turned and started toward the docking ring.

He hadn't gone twenty meters when he heard a familiar voice shouting behind him. "Harry! Harry, wait!"

Wheeling, he saw Tom Paris loping down the concourse, arm in the air. B'Elanna and Miral were a few paces behind him. Harry hurried back to meet them.

"I was afraid we'd missed you," Tom said as soon as Harry joined them. "Miral had a 'diaper incident' as soon as we arrived - B'Elanna had to wash her down and change her clothes."

"You almost did. I have to be on board in four minutes." He tried for solemnity but lost the battle. With a huge grin, he adjusted his gray and black uniform jacket. "I still can't believe it."

"Ops officer on the Enterprise." Tom shook his head. "Our Harry, on the senior staff of the flag ship."

With Will Riker leaving for his own command, Picard had promoted his second officer to the xo spot, leaving a vacancy at Ops. He had offered the position to Harry before anyone else. "I suspect Captain Janeway might have something to do with it."

B'Elanna, holding Miral, had caught up with them. "I wouldn't be surprised," she said. "You wanted to be on the fast track. I'd say this is it." She shifted Miral to her other hip and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "Take care of yourself, Starfleet."

He hugged her, baby and all. It didn't seem quite real that they were saying goodbye for at least a year, maybe longer. "You, too, Maquis.' Turning to Miral he added, "And you be good, sweetheart. Uncle Harry will see you in a while."

"Har-ree." Miral reached out with both arms. "Want kiss."

It was a ritual between them and he took her without hesitation. First he lifted her above his head before lowering her for a smacking wet kiss on her belly. Her gleeful laughter rang in the corridor.

"Bye, bye, baby," he said as he handed her back to B'Elanna. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny and he turned quickly to Tom. As he faced his closest friend, he discovered he didn't know how to say goodbye. "Tom, I -"

"Yeah, I know," Tom said quietly. He held out his hand, then pulled Harry into a bear hug. "Buster Kincaid flies solo. Show 'em how it's done."

Harry returned the hug, then with a thump on Tom's back, let go. "Thanks. For - well, for everything. I wish - but I gotta run."

"Go on." B'Elanna smiled at him. "Just remember to write every once in a while."

"Count on it." With a final brush of fingers against Miral's face, Harry turned and jogged down the concourse, trying to balance the sadness of the moment with the anticipation of the next.

Tom watched him disappear around a corner and turned to find B'Elanna watching him. She said, "He'll be fine, you know."

"I know. It's just weird, thinking about him on a different ship." Then he held his arms out to his daughter, who came to him happily. "And speaking of ships, we'd better get to ours. We still have to get through Security at the lower concourse."

As they began to walk back toward the main hub, B'Elanna's mouth quirked. "Do you suppose Ensign Officious is on duty today?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "I hope not. Or perhaps he won't recognize us."

"Right. I'm sure he sees so many officers married to Klingons and traveling with a year-old daughter that we won't stand out at all." She shifted Miral to a different hip. "And he's not likely to forget the way you chewed him out."

"I don't think we'll have any trouble today. Even if he hates my guts, I've got half a pip on him now, and you've got a pip and a half. He's not going to be insubordinate -"

He was cut off when B'Elanna stopped walking and Miral grabbed his arm. "What is it?" he asked.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, looking around the crowded corridor.

Tom cocked his head. "What?"

"Lieutenant Paris! Lieutenant Commander Torres!"

"I heard that," Tom murmured. He turned to greet the enthusiastic caller. "Hello, Doctor."

"Lieutenant Commander, actually." The EMH brushed his fingers across his collar, calling attention to the three pips attached there. "Lieutenant Commander Mark Lewis Zimmerman."

"We heard," B'Elanna said. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." The Doctor beamed at her. "I've been assigned to Starfleet Medical for the next six months. They want me to write a text on Delta Quadrant diseases. They probably want me to deliver a few lectures, too. Do you think the Vidiian phage or the Species 8472 infiltration would be more dramatic?"

Tom repressed a shudder. He had a vivid recollection of two versions of B'Elanna, and of a Vidiian wearing Pete Durst's face. "Go for the phage. Definitely the better story."

Miral grabbed a handful of B'Elanna's hair and yanked. "Doctor come too?"

The Doctor's smile broadened as B'Elanna disentangled herself. "I wish I could, Miral. But you're going one way and I'm going another." He wiggled his fingers at her. "Are you on your way to Qo'noS?"

"Exactly." B'Elanna couldn't help smiling at her daughter's happy reaction to the Doctor's flirting. "We're finally going to have Miral's acceptance ceremony, but we had to come see Harry off first. We'll be back next month, though. Tom's going to be testing a new fighter design at the Australian facility."

"And B'Elanna's going to be working with Admiral Drsvensek in Starship Design," Tom said proudly.

"Then we will undoubtedly run into each other once you're back. We can have dinner together." With a final pat on Miral's head, he said, "Well, I need to be going - don't want to be late on the first day. Have a good trip."

"You, too, Doc." Tom extended his hand. "Commander Zimmerman."

If the Doctor had been a peacock, his tail would have been at full plumage. "Lieutenant Paris. Commander Torres. Miss Paris." He shook Tom's hand warmly, and turned to make his way to the ground transport station to join the queue of those in need of transportation back to Earth. Transporters were reserved for emergencies and VIPs.

Shuttles left Spacedock on a regular basis, so although the line was long it moved quickly. The Doctor was content to study the tide of people around him. There were hundreds in Starfleet uniforms, but also a large number of civilians, diplomats or family members, whose clothing lent spots of color to the sea of gray and black. It was very orderly and somehow very alive, rather like a circulatory system in motion. He was happy to have an unquestionable right to be part of it all.

Then he smiled as he saw a familiar face enter the station from the shuttle staging area. "Tuvok!" he called, waving.

Tuvok, dressed in a dark Vulcan robes, heard him immediately, and murmured something to his wife, who was at his side. They both came over to speak with the Doctor. "Lieutenant Commander Zimmerman," Tuvok said with his usual formality. "You remember she who is my wife."

"T'Pel." He bowed slightly at the waist. "It's good to see you again. Are you finally on your way to Vulcan?"

"Yes. I am officially on leave for the next six weeks. I assume you are on your way to Starfleet Medical?"

"Oh. You heard about that?" He couldn't decide whether he was disappointed that he wasn't the one to break the news, or flattered because he had been included in the Voyager grapevine.

"Captain Janeway told me. Congratulations on this assignment, and on your other legal victories."

The Doctor beamed at him. "Yes, it turned out well, didn't it? Actually, it turned out well for most of us. I just ran into Tom and B'Elanna, and they had just said goodbye to Harry. Oh, and congratulations to you on your promotion. What's next for you?"

Tuvok glanced at T'Pel. "Beyond an extended visit with my family, that remains to be decided." He paused, then added, "You may wish to contact Neelix soon after your arrival. He remains the best source for news about the crew, and Sarexa would be grateful to hear from a friend."

"Of course," The Doctor looked up and realized that the line had moved so quickly that he was about to enter the staging area. "Oh, dear. Looks like I'm out of time." He raised his right hand in the traditional Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Tuvok, T'Pel."

Tuvok lifted his hand in response. "And you, Doctor."

As the physician disappeared through the doors, Tuvok turned to his wife. "Come. Our transport is undoubtedly ready for boarding."

T'Pel fell into step beside him. "Is that the answer you will give to Kathryn if she asks about your plans?"

"I doubt that she will ask while she is still on leave herself, but if she does, yes. My answer will be the same." He looked at her. "She is at a similar point in her life. She will understand that it is too soon to make long-term decisions."

"Perhaps," T'Pel said. "In truth, husband, I understand her uncertainty more than yours."

He frowned. "Do you doubt my desire to remain with you and our family? Or my need to steep my soul on Vulcan for a time?"

"Not in the least. But I cannot see that need lasting more than a few months. And then, I think, your sense of duty and your curiosity about the unknown will begin to conflict again."

"It is not duty alone that prompts my wish to remain close to our family," he said stiffly.

"Of course not. But you are one of the few of our people, my husband, who is truly of two worlds - Vulcan, and the greater 'world' of the galaxy beyond. You can serve Vulcan from the galaxy, but you cannot serve the galaxy on Vulcan." Her eyes softened. "We can talk of this later. For now, I am pleased to have you home again."

Tuvok did not agree with her. There were many ways he could advance the Federation if he remained on Vulcan. However, this was neither the time nor the place to begin such a debate, and in any case, he did not want to alter the contented expression on her face. He glanced at her often as they walked, noting that the passage of years only added to her serenity.

Their passage was watched by a couple standing on the mezzanine above the main level. Kathryn and Chakotay, both in civilian clothes, stood at the rail and watched the tide of people below. Kathryn's gaze was fixed on the tall Vulcan. "We can still catch them if you want to," Chakotay said to her.

"No, we said our goodbyes last night. We'll see them when we get back next month." She smiled sadly. "I'd forgotten this - the coming, the going, the quick goodbyes and surprise hellos. I guess if anything sums up the transience of life in Starfleet, this is it."

He folded his hand over hers. "It's not completely transient, or you wouldn't see so many scenes like that one." With a nod, he directed her attention to a small reunion on the main floor. Two officers, clearly surprised to see each other, were shaking hands and speaking animatedly. "There are ties that survive distance and time, even in Starfleet."

"Family," she murmured. "And ours is scattering. It's inevitable, I guess."

"Scattered, but not broken. We went through too much together. Voyager's crew will always be a family, no matter what else happens in the future."

"Hmph. The future." There was still so much up in the air - would Starfleet offer her a ship, or not? Did she want one, or not?

Even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer. She wanted to be out there, out among the stars, again. Standing here in Spacedock, she could feel their pull like a lifeline. But she couldn't consider herself alone any longer. Would Chakotay stay in the service or not? And if he didn't, would he want to stay on Dorvan? And would Chakotay's sister like her?

Too many questions and not enough answers. With a shake of her head, she added, "Right now the only thing that is certain about our future is that if don't get on board the McAuliffe, it will leave without us - and if we don't make it to Dorvan in time for your nephew's naming ceremony, your sister will never forgive me."

"She'll forgive you," he said, his eyes twinkling. "At this point, she'd forgive any woman foolish enough to agree to be my wife."

She raked her eyes over him as she reached and fingered the edge of his well tailored but definitely civilian jacket. "Sooner or later, you're going to have to make a decision, you know."

He grinned at her, a full, two-dimpled grin that made his eyes sparkle. "I'll make mine as soon as you make yours."

"It's a deal. Now come on, let's get going." She picked up the duffel bag at her feet and slung it over her shoulder. "Are you with me?"

He picked up his bag without letting go of her hand. "Always."

Thus ended Season 2

Note from the 7.5 Team:

We started this project because we loved the potential we saw in Star Trek: Voyager, which we thought went largely unfulfilled on screen. After more than a year of producing "episodes" an average of every other week, we are more in love with these characters than ever. We're going to take some time off now, but we'll be back in October. In the meantime, perhaps you as a reader can share our inspiration. It comes from the dedication plaque of the Starship Voyager, and includes a few extra lines from the poem that is its source:

"For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight dropping down with costly bales; Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'd a ghastly dew

From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue; Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm, With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm; Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were furl'd In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapped in universal law."
(from "Locksley Hall" by Alfred Lord Tennyson)

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