Chapter 19

The dressing room was a crush of women: some standing in line for the changing stalls, some lined up at the mirrors applying makeup, some sitting down while their hair was pulled this way and that or piled up in curls for the evening.

Voyager's crew had been given a choice to keep on their dress uniforms for the reception that night, and most of the men had done so, but many of the women had opted for formal gowns. Janeway had managed to talk Seven into the latter without much difficulty, knowing how ambivalent Seven was about Starfleet-uniform-wearing, but she was starting to wonder if that had been such a good idea after all.

It had started out badly, with Seven getting her hair done in a complicated updo and becoming cross because it took so long and was "impractical and inefficient," as she kept telling poor Samantha Wildman, who was doing a beautiful job of it. Her patience was further taxed by having to sit still to have her nails and makeup done. Janeway scarcely noticed what Susan Nicoletti was doing to her own hair and face, busy as she was trying to keep Seven cooperative. Naomi sat on a stool nearby, already in a fluffy pink dress and a matching hairbow, watching the proceedings with wide eyes.

Fortunately Seven didn't complain about the corset. It wasn't much different, after all, from the exoplating she had once worn as a drone, or even the bodysuits she had needed to wear for a time until her skin had regained the ability to regenerate normally. Janeway had made certain that Seven's heels were no higher than the Starfleet boots she was already used to wearing, so that was all right, and then Samantha helped her get into the dress and zip it up. Then she turned Seven around and let her look in the mirror.

The effect was stunning. The red ball gown had one long sleeve, effectively hiding the Borg node on her right bicep, and left the other arm bare. A white glove on that hand hid her assimilation tubules. The skirt flowed down in smooth lines and just cleared her toes. Seven looked beautiful, and Samantha and Janeway and Naomi were quick to tell her that.

"This mode of dress is barbaric," Seven said, her voice deepening with scorn, yet she looked at the mirror for a little longer and hesitantly tried on a few fake smiles.

"Think of it as battle attire, Seven," Janeway said helpfully, as she was being pushed and prodded into her own dress, a cobalt blue one with gems sparkling at the hem. "We're preparing for war."

"Our enemy?" Seven asked.

"Any Starfleet bigwigs out there who might not think much of Maquis, or self-determining holograms, or ex-Borg drones," Janeway said. "Thank you, Susan. I think that should do it."

"Our weapons?"

"Charm," Janeway said, waving a hand gracefully in the air. "We'll use it to persuade them to think otherwise."

Seven frowned at the mirror as Samantha draped a necklace around her neck. "I would prefer to return to my Cargo Bay and regenerate."

"Don't be a party pooper, Seven." Janeway picked up her skirts and moved over to join Seven at the mirror, while Samantha excused herself to get her own dress on, taking Naomi with her.

"Is that an order?" Seven asked with uplifted eyebrow.

"I'd rather not make it one."

Janeway put on her necklace, the sapphire one the Garenorians had given her at the end of the year of hell, and for a moment she fingered the chain, filled with the bittersweet memory. She glanced at the mirror. Susan had done her hair in a wavy chignon at the base of her neck, with a few loose ringlets framing her face. Everything seemed to be in order, so she turned away and beckoned to Seven.

"Let's go," she said.

The two of them left the dressing room and let the sound of the distant orchestra lead them toward the ballroom. When they reached the foot of the stairs, they could see the Doctor, Kim, Chakotay and someone else they didn't recognize, a man in engineering gold, standing at the top and talking to each other.

Janeway picked up her skirts and started slowly up the stairs. Seven stuck by her side, but only a few steps up, Janeway heard a small thump, and turned to see Seven, fallen down on one knee on the stairs, her skirts trapped hopelessly under her shoes.

Alarmed, Janeway went back down several steps and knelt down in a blue heap of fabric. "Don't move," she said quietly to Seven, and she worked quickly to untangle the red material from the high heels. Then she straightened and gave Seven a hand to help her get back to her feet unsteadily.

"This did not happen with my other dresses on Voyager," Seven said stiffly, cheeks flushed pink.

"I'm sorry, Seven, that was my fault," Janeway said. "I should have told you. In a long dress like this you have to hold the skirt up when you go up stairs. No, no, not that high!" She quickly pushed Seven's hands down. "About ankle height. Just enough so you don't trip."

"It is barbaric," Seven muttered, but she tried to recover her grace as they cautiously made their way up the stairs again.

She could see now that the men had seen the whole episode. There was the Doctor and Chakotay, looking concerned, while Kim was trying to hide a smile.

No need to wonder what the officer in gold stripes thought of Seven, however. The moment they reached the top of the stairs, he asked Seven to dance, and after an uncertain look at the Doctor, Seven accepted and was led onto the dance floor.

Janeway looked at the others and heaved a big sigh.

"Remind me to never again involve myself in putting a Borg drone into formal wear," she said with a wry smile. "It was touch and go for a while there."

It was like Chakotay didn't even hear her. He gave her a long appraising look and then said, "You look lovely."

"Hey Doc, I think you missed a crucial social lesson for Seven," Kim said, clapping him on the shoulder.

The Doctor glared at him. "As if I know how to walk in an evening dress!" he snapped. "I'm a doctor, not a debutante!"

Janeway looked around with the ballroom with appreciative eyes. The soaring ceiling was heavily ornamented, complete with chandeliers lighting up the dance floor, where a full orchestra was playing Tchaikovsky on a stage as couples whirled around the floor. Surrounding the dance floor were many round tables elegantly decorated, with waiters threading their way through the crowd holding trays filled with glasses of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

A man in a variation of the dress uniform Janeway had not seen before hurried up to them. "Harry Kim?" he asked. "Lieutenant Commander Traysom, Starfleet Orchestra. We spoke on the com?"

"Yes, I remember," Kim said, shaking his hand.

Traysom gestured toward the stage. "We've been practicing your symphony the last few days and we're ready now, if you'd still like to conduct."

"Yes, of course, but I'll need to have a few words with the musicians first," Kim said quickly, and he excused himself and went off with the man. The Doctor followed them, clearly eager to have a front-row seat for the performance.

"This should be interesting," Chakotay said. "Have you heard it yet?"

Janeway shook her head. "I think Harry's tried hard to keep it a deep, dark secret."

A small group of officers approached them, and suddenly Janeway found herself the center of attention amid a chorus of smiling people congratulating her on their return home. As she struggled to keep all the names and faces straight, Janeway noticed Torres slipping in through the crowd to stand next to Chakotay.

A woman with a curly blonde updo extended her hand toward Janeway. "Captain Madison Shelby, U.S.S. Chongzhi. I've been looking forward to meeting you, Captain Janeway. You've made quite the stir in the Federation over the last few days."

"Entirely unintentionally, I assure you," Janeway said.

Shelby smiled. "Don't be modest, Captain. You and your crew accomplished a remarkable feat, defeating the Borg at Starbase 3. I'm eager to learn more about the energy beam weapon you developed. Back when I was overseeing research and development into addressing the Borg threat, we looked into various tricobalt weapons, but there were certain difficulties we were never able to overcome."

"I'd be happy to answer any questions you have. Captain Shelby, this is my Chief Engineer, B'Elanna Torres, and my First Officer, Chakotay."

"Ah, the Maquis captain," Shelby said. Maybe she hadn't meant to say it in a dismissive way, but something about her tone put Janeway's hackles up. And she hadn't even glanced at B'Elanna, much less shaken her hand.

"My First Officer," Janeway repeated firmly.

"Of course," Shelby said, shaking Chakotay's hand and almost instantly dropping it and turning back to Janeway. "Captain Retief's report indicated that you used a warp microburst in your final assault on the second cube. I'd love to speak with Lieutenant Carey about that. It's a maneuver that may be useful in future engagements with the Borg."

"Actually, it was Lieutenant Torres who came up with the idea of using a warp microburst," Janeway said, nodding at B'Elanna.

Shelby glanced briefly at Torres and then back to Janeway. "Your report indicated that a Lieutenant Joe Carey was on duty when the maneuver was performed. That's who I was hoping to speak with."

"I'm sure he's around here somewhere, but it was Lieutenant Torres who set up the engines for the microburst," Janeway said. "She's also performed the maneuver successfully on several previous occasions. This was Carey's first-"

"Of course it was, because the microburst isn't part of the typical Starfleet repertoire," Shelby interrupted. She looked at B'Elanna coolly. "You used it during your time with the Maquis?"

B'Elanna stirred. "Well, yes..."

"Here in Starfleet, we have much more stringent safety requirements than the kind of tricks the Maquis used to pull," Shelby said.

"The microburst can be performed safely," Torres said, not bothering to hide her irritation. "As I think we just demonstrated."

"How do you align the crystals so that the dilithium chamber pressure doesn't become unstable?" a man in engineering gold asked her curiously.

Torres began to explain the procedure, while the engineer listened in rapt attention, along with several of the other officers who had gathered around them. Shelby was gradually nudged out of the circle. Janeway ended up talking to a tactical officer about their use of the energy beam cannon.

"I saw the footage from the station," the woman was saying. "Your tactical officer is a terrific shot."

"Actually, my tactical officer was onboard the station engaging the Borg there during the battle," Janeway said. "It was Lieutenant Ayala, Tuvok's right-hand man, who did the shooting."

"Oh?"

"He's an outstanding officer," Janeway said. "Very steady. I often request that he be assigned to my own security detail for away missions."

One person after another asked questions about the battle and their journey through the Delta Quadrant, and before long Janeway could feel her throat starting to get dry from so much talking. Almost on cue, Chakotay appeared at her elbow, holding two glasses of champagne.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he murmured in her ear as he handed her a glass.

"Making small talk?" she asked innocently, taking a sip.

"You're talking up my crew. You're working. This is your welcome-home party, Kathryn. Relax and enjoy yourself. There will be time enough for that later."

"I enjoy talking up our crew," she said defensively.

The conversation was interrupted by a voice coming over the speakers in the room. The chatter in the ballroom began to quiet down and faces turned toward the stage.

It was Traysom, who introduced Harry Kim and led the audience in a round of applause as Kim took the stage. He stepped toward the microphone and cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to present to you my labor of love over the past eight years, a song I composed to represent our journey through the Delta Quadrant. I call it, "The Odyssey."

The audience applauded again, as Kim turned around and picked up the baton. The orchestra readied their instruments.

It started softly, with the violins trembling in anticipation, then a trumpet came in with three clear notes, and a percussionist began to play the kettledrums.

Eventually, all the French horns came in and a stately, wondrous theme began to emerge. Janeway and Chakotay stood together and listened with rapt attention as Kim's composition transitioned smoothly through several movements. They heard the aching, lonely melody of The Void, and the creeping, metallic clangs that evoked their encounters with the Borg, followed by the clash and fury of a battle theme, until at last it ended with a triumphant version of the first theme that came to an intensely satisfying conclusion.

The applause was long and loud, and Kim took several bows, looking almost embarrassed by the response.

"Not bad, not bad at all," Chakotay shouted to Janeway over the noise. "Maybe Harry should quit his day job."

"Don't say that!" she quickly retorted. "I have no intention of trying to run a ship without him."

Finally, Kim left the stage, and Traysom picked up the baton and started up another song. A fresh group was coming into the ballroom, and the conversational noise was rising as people began to greet the newcomers. Just then, Janeway spotted a familiar face coming toward her, someone she had been very much hoping to see here tonight. Janeway quickly looked around for Seven, but didn't immediately spot her.

"Naomi," Janeway said, stooping down to talk to the little girl. "Go and get Seven for me, quick."

"Aye Captain," Naomi said cheerfully, and disappeared into the crowd.

He approached her as she straightened back up, an older man with a dignified bearing and a bald head that gleamed in the lights of the ballroom: Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise.

"Captain Janeway," Picard said with a gracious smile as he reached out to shake her hand. "You were First Officer on the Aleppo last time we met, I believe. You seem to have done pretty well for yourself since then. Congratulations on getting your crew home."

"Thank you, Captain, but it was a team effort," Janeway said, smiling. "A captain is only as good as her crew."

"Truer words were never spoken," Picard said, giving a smiling glance back at several of the officers who had come in with him. "And I think I speak for all of my crew when I say we are most anxious to read your ship's logs. To spend years in uncharted space, making first contact with dozens of new races, seeing things no human has ever seen before... how I envy you."

"It's been an eventful eight years," Janeway agreed. "It may have been unplanned, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one we're all grateful we could be a part of."

Picard nodded. "With the Dominion War and everything else that's happened in your absence, the rest of us haven't had much opportunity for adventuring." His smile faded a little as he spoke. "You've made us all remember what it was like to be explorers."

Then Picard cleared his throat and leaned forward conspiratorially. "In fact, Captain, Admiral Patterson gave me a sneak peek at a few of your logs that he felt I would have a particular interest in. Is it true that you met a saurian race who claimed to originate right here on Earth?"

"Yes, of course," Janeway said. "The Voth. We encountered them our third year. Their technology was quite advanced; they lived on an enormous city-ship, capable of trans-warp travel."

"Fascinating," Picard said. "I would love to get your perspective on them. This could revolutionize archaeological studies on Earth. We've believed for so long that we had found everything there was to find here, but I am delighted to hear we were wrong!"

"Actually, the person you need to talk to is my First Officer," Janeway said. She looked around, managed to catch Chakotay's eye, and beckoned him over. "He had more dealings with the Voth than I did, and he shares your passion for archaeology. Commander, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Captain, my First Officer, Commander Chakotay."

She braced herself for Picard to say, as Shelby had, "Oh yes, the Maquis captain."

But he didn't. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Picard said in polite tones, shaking Chakotay's hand. "Congratulations on your safe journey home, Commander. I find the story of your combined crews most inspiring. It can't have been easy."

"Fortunately, I had one of Starfleet's finest to work with," Chakotay said, with a nod in Janeway's direction, and both she and Picard smiled appreciatively.

"Captain Picard," Chakotay continued, growing serious, "I've always wanted to thank you personally for your negotiations on Dorvan V. You enabled my family to stay in their home a little longer, and for that we have always been grateful."

"Thank you, but I'm afraid all I did was delay the inevitable," Picard said, his voice filled with regret.

"We were grateful for the time we were given," Chakotay said quietly. "And I understand the colony is being rebuilt as we speak."

Janeway explained Picard's interest in the Voth, and soon he and Chakotay were in the midst of a detailed discussion of everything the Voyager crew had learned about the saurian race. References to archaeological expeditions Janeway was unfamiliar with began to fly fast and furious, and soon she found it difficult to keep up with the conversation.

"Welcome home, Captain Janeway."

She looked over - and up - at the very tall bearded man now offering his hand to her. He was wearing commander pips on the collar of his dress uniform. Next to him, in science blue, stood a beautiful Betazoid woman with long, sleekly curled dark hair.

It had been a long time since Q had brought Will Riker aboard Voyager to participate in Quinn's trial, but recognition dawned in an instant. Still, Janeway reminded herself that Q had promised to erase Riker's memories of the incident, and therefore it would be pointless to mention it to him at this venue.

"Commander Riker," she said, shaking his hand. "And how is life aboard the Enterprise-E?"

"As eventful as life on the Enterprise-D was," he said cheerfully. "I guess someone's told you about our little crash on Veridian III?"

"Actually, that happened a few months before I took command of Voyager," Janeway said.

"Has it really been that long?" Riker said, exchanging surprised looks with the Betazoid woman beside him. "Feels like just yesterday we launched the E. Oh, Captain, this is Commander Deanna Troi, our ship's counselor."

Janeway shook Troi's hand, noting the way Riker let his hand linger on the counselor's back a little longer than necessary as he pulled her into their conversational circle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Janeway," Troi said, speaking with a hint of an accent Janeway couldn't quite place. "And how did you two meet?" she added, looking between Riker and Janeway.

"Oh, we had a date once, back in the old Academy days," Riker said blithely. Just to Janeway's left, where he'd been listening to another conversation, Tom Paris glanced at them over his shoulder, perked up, and turned to subtly insert himself into their circle.

Janeway felt a blush creeping up into her hairline. "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that," she said.

"Oh, no, you were very memorable," Riker assured her with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "I haven't had a lot of girls ditch me mid-date."

"Oh, really?" Paris said eagerly, shooting a delighted look at Janeway. "Do tell."

"Will, did you misbehave?" Troi asked in a gentle scolding tone.

"Not that I recall," Riker said.

"Oh, no, he was a perfect gentleman," Janeway hastened to say. "It's just that I was frantic about a report I had left undone, and I couldn't enjoy myself with something like that hanging over my head."

"You left a date to do homework, Captain?" Paris exclaimed in disbelief.

"What assignment could possibly be more important than me?" Riker teased.

Janeway casually glanced over her shoulder, trying to gauge if Chakotay and Picard were near enough to be overhearing this conversation. It was hard to tell. When she looked back, Troi was looking at her with an odd expression. Janeway quickly cleared her throat.

"It was a dissertation for Owen Paris," she explained.

"Oh, him," Riker said, rolling his eyes expressively. "Say no more."

"I took a survival course from him my second year," Troi said. "He frightened the wits out of us all."

"Glad to see I'm not the only one who had my love life ruined by my father," Paris muttered into his champagne glass.

"You're a Paris?" Riker asked.

"Yes sir, Tom Paris, helmsman." Paris offered his hand to Riker and then Troi.

"I served with a Gretta Paris on the Hood," Riker said.

"She's my aunt," Paris nodded, and the two of them started trading anecdotes about her.

Just then, Janeway felt a hand lightly touch the small of her back, and she turned to see Chakotay behind her, with Picard still by his side. Quickly she moved aside to let them into the conversational circle. There was plenty of room, but for some reason Chakotay was crowding her, and he left his hand on her back a little longer than was strictly necessary. She glanced up at him, wondering if he intended to have a quiet word in her ear like he did sometimes at large gatherings, usually to share some darkly humorous observation about one of the attendees. But he didn't say a word, just looked into her eyes for a moment and then let his hand slip off her back and turned his attention to the others.

As for Janeway, she was having trouble focusing on the conversation, nor was she the only one. She caught Deanna Troi looking at her with a strange half-smile on her face, but she quickly looked away from Janeway to pay rapt attention to Riker and Paris. They were discussing some piloting maneuver in deep technical detail. Piloting was far from Janeway's favorite topic - she was a decent pilot, but had never managed to tap into any kind of personal passion for it - and since she had nothing to add to the discussion, she let her eyes roam around the room.

Some of the officers she saw talking to hers were unfamiliar, but several others she knew to be from the Enterprise crew. There was their chief engineer, Geordi La Forge, deep in discussion with Torres and Kim.

"The trouble with the slipstream drive was that we never ironed out the problem with a phase variance..." Kim was explaining as LaForge watched Torres create a diagram on a PADD.

In another group, the Doctor was gesticulating wildly as he spoke to a red-haired woman in a science uniform Janeway didn't know and the android Lieutenant Commander Data, instantly recognizable by his yellowish skin and eyes.

"And for the first year or so, they kept turning me off mid-sentence or, even worse, forgetting to turn me off at all!" the Doctor was saying loudly.

Janeway couldn't quite hear Data's reply, but his tone sounded sympathetic.

"I knew you would understand better than anyone," the Doctor blustered on. "In fact, I've created a holodeck program to enumerate the many wrongs inflicted on my fellow holograms by their flesh-and-blood counterparts. I would be thrilled if you would take a look..."

Next to them, Tuvok was listening with infinite patience to a tall, nervous man in engineering gold who was having great difficulty getting a sentence out without stammering.

"I, I, I found Voyager's story simply, uh, uh, fascinating the moment I heard it," the man was saying. "In... In fact, I got a new... a new cat this week, you see, and I, I named him Neelix, if you can imagine that! Could... could you introduce me to him, Commander? Mr. Neelix, I mean. I would be very... uh, very grateful if you could." He chuckled nervously, and Tuvok's eyebrow went up.

"Fascinating," he said.

As for Neelix himself, he was chatting with a woman with dark skin and a loose-fitting navy blue robe. Her black braids were topped by a strange floppy hat, as wide as a serving platter at the top.

"It took me years to figure out what human tastes in food were..." Neelix was saying as the woman nodded in sympathy.

Janeway's attention was suddenly captured by a bright white flash of light appearing right next to her. Instinctively she took a step back, nearly spilling her drink. Riker and Picard both looked over, stopping mid-sentence, to see what was happening.

The flash was gone, but in its place stood a young man with short curly brown hair, smiling widely at Janeway and holding a single white rose.

"Q!" she gasped, putting her hand on her heart in a startled gesture.

"Congratulations, Aunt Kathy," he said as he presented her with the rose. He was wearing the captain's variant of the dress uniform. Of course. "You made it home! I always knew you would, of course, but I suppose you didn't." He looked insufferably pleased with himself.

"Q?" Picard barked, pushing his champagne glass into Chakotay's hand and moving quickly to Janeway's side. Then he took a good look at Q's face, and drew back slightly in surprise.

"Oh, no, Captain," Janeway hastened to put a hand on Picard's chest to stop him before he could do anything rash. "This isn't your Q. This is..." She cleared her throat. "This is Q, his son."

"His son?" Picard repeated, staring at Q in disbelief.

"Heaven help us all, he procreated?" Riker muttered.

Maybe it was Janeway's imagination, but she could swear that the woman in the strange hat who had just been speaking with Neelix had actually hissed in Q's direction.

"Dad wanted to come himself," Q told Janeway, ignoring the others, "but... you know how Mom gets. The moment he mentioned your name in conjunction with the word "party" she threw a fit and tried to toss him into a supernova. He sent a message, though. He said to tell you, 'Aren't you glad I didn't snap you home?'"

Janeway couldn't help but smile. "I suppose I am glad."

"Q's son?" Picard repeated.

"Is there an echo in here?" Q asked, shooting a contemptuous look at Picard. "Who is this, Aunt Kathy? He looks dull. He's ruining your party. Would you like me to get rid of him for you?"

Janeway pressed her lips together. "Not at all. Q, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Captain, this is Q."

Q's eyes grew wide. "Captain Picard? The Captain Picard?" A broad grin spread across his face. He chuckled. Just a little at first, and then the laugh grew longer and louder.

"Q!" Janeway said warningly. "Remember your manners!"

"I'm sorry, Aunt Kathy," Q said, attempting to recover himself. "It's just that I've..." he snickered - "I've heard so much... about him." He went off into another peal of laughter.

Janeway rolled her eyes, but before she could come up with a scolding that actually had a prayer of making Q behave, Icheb came rushing up.

"Q-ball!" he shouted.

Q's face lit up. "Itchy!" he yelled. "Long time no see! What's kicking on this side of the galaxy?"

"Q, you would not believe-" Icheb said, gesturing inarticulately behind him. "There are two Orion girls over there... You've got to help me out. Is there some kind of Q trick you know that could, uh, you know..." His voice trailed off as he noticed Janeway standing there.

"Aha!" Q said, his face lighting up. "Orion women? I know just the thing!"

"Q!" Janeway said quickly. "Don't do anything that would get us both in trouble with your father-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. See you later, Aunt Kathy," he said, snapping his fingers so that the rose in her hand disappeared and then reappeared tucked into her hair.

"Icheb!" Janeway called out as the two boys moved away. "Keep an eye on him!"

"Aye Captain!" Icheb said as Q dragged him out of sight.

Picard wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "His son," he muttered.

"Terrific," Riker said. "Just what the galaxy needed." He cocked an eyebrow in Janeway's direction. "So you met Q in the Delta Quadrant, then? What did he want with you?"

Paris choked into his drink. Janeway stood there, uncertain of what to say. Luckily, Chakotay rescued her.

"So," he said, looking between Picard and Riker. "How's the weather on Earth been for the last eight years?"

"That bad, huh?" Riker said.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?"

Janeway turned to see Seven of Nine was standing at her elbow, with Naomi at her side.

"Yes," Janeway said, feeling considerably relieved at the interruption. "I wanted you to meet Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Enterprise. Captain, this is Annika Hansen."

Picard started slightly as he turned his eyes onto Seven and took in her cranial implant, but he recovered quickly.

"Oh yes, Admiral Patterson mentioned you," he said politely, holding out his hand to shake hers. "Rescued from the Borg Collective, I believe?"

"Yes," Seven said, and if she thought anything of Janeway introducing her by her human name, she chose to say nothing about it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain. There are... many questions I would like to ask you."

She sounded a little stiff, but thank heavens, she hadn't called Picard "Locutus." Maybe her beauty helped, too; despite the implants, she looked so much softer than her usual self in a dress, with her hair fixed up, that Picard didn't seem put off by her manner at all, and he looked at her kindly.

"Yes, of course, Miss Hansen," he said, gesturing to the tables beyond the crowd. "I have a few I'd like to ask you as well. Shall we?"

He escorted her away, with Seven holding his arm in the proper way. Clearly the Doctor's social lessons had paid off. Janeway made eye contact with Chakotay as they both breathed a silent sigh of relief.

More and more people arrived at the reception as the evening wore on. Soon the ballroom was filled with laughing, chatting officers and the orchestra could scarcely be heard over the continual rumble.

Two hours in, and Janeway's face began to hurt from smiling, and her throat was sore from talking, and her head ached after performing so many verbal tangos to steer as many conversations as possible toward commending her crew, particularly those from the Val Jean and the Equinox.

Politely but firmly, she excused herself from the crowd of people surrounding her and sought refuge at the other end of the ballroom, where French doors opened out onto multiple balconies. Most of the balconies were full of people also seeking to escape the noise and heat of the crowded ballroom, but she spotted one that was occupied by only one other officer and she headed toward it, hoping that she'd get away with a few minutes of peace and quiet out there before she was spotted again.

Outside, it was dark and cool, almost too cool, enough to make her wish she had a wrap to go over her evening gown. As she walked toward the railing, a salt-tangy breeze ruffled her hair. She took a deep breath of fresh air and sat on a bench where she could see the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

The other person on the balcony turned to glance at her, and Janeway realized it was the Doctor.

"Have you stabilized his cortical implant?" the Doctor asked.

Janeway gave him a puzzled look, but the Doctor silently pointed to his combadge, and she realized he was talking to someone else.

"Yes, but there are still irregularities in his theta brain waves that I can't explain."

"Check his colliculi," the Doctor said. "Could there be a microscopic implant pressing on the trochlear nerve?"

There was a short pause. "Yes. I can see it." The woman on the other end of the line sounded surprised. "How did you know to look there? Theta waves aren't typically associated with the colliculus."

"Borg implants connect all kinds of parts of the brain that were never meant to be connected," the Doctor said wryly. "Luckily for Two of Five, I had a similar issue with Seven of Nine and we were able to save her. You'll need to remove that implant as quickly as possible or the patient will go into neural shock. I suggest you dismantle it using the modified nanoprobes I developed, rather than an exoscalpel, or you'll risk severing the nerve."

They could hear the doctor speaking to an assistant in the background. "Prepare to program a fresh batch of nanoprobes. Around 2,000 to start with, and we'll see how it goes from there." Abruptly, the sound cut.

"Dr. Greshem?" the Doctor asked.

Silence.

The Doctor looked irritated. "You're welcome," he said sarcastically to the empty air. "Happy to help. Why yes, thank you, it was a brilliant idea. I'll be sure to come check on the patient in a few hours to make sure you did it right. No rest for the weary hologram, not even on the night of his big debut to the world."

"Was that someone in Shanghai?" Janeway asked.

"They're trying to keep up with the Delta 100's implant failures at the medcenter there," the Doctor confirmed. Janeway had to suppress a smile at how quickly the Doctor had adopted Jake Sisko's nickname for the drones who had traveled here from the Delta Quadrant.

"Not a single one of the doctors there has ever worked on a drone before," the Doctor continued. "I told them they were welcome to call me for advice, but I must admit I was expecting them to treat me like a colleague and not a walking encyclopedia." His tone was aggrieved.

"Give them a little time," Janeway said gently. "Once they get to know you, you'll earn their respect. Just as you've earned mine."

The Doctor looked slightly mollified. "It has been a while since you cut me off mid-sentence," he admitted. "Although it's been only two months, three weeks and five days since you last threatened to alter my personality subroutines," he added with a hint of bitterness.

Janeway laughed lightly. "Yes, and it's been one month since the last time I threatened to throw Chakotay in the Brig, and two weeks since I threatened to delete Tom's Captain Proton program, and six hours since I threatened to demote Tuvok if I didn't see him dancing at least once tonight. Congratulations, Doctor. You've now become just as worthy of a good ribbing as everyone else on the crew."

"Speak of the devil," the Doctor said, jerking his head back toward the French doors.

Half-expecting to see Tuvok actually dancing, Janeway turned to see her tactical officer, not dancing, but heading toward her, and he was accompanied by a silver-haired man in an admiral's uniform. The admiral looked familiar somehow, but Janeway couldn't immediately place him.

She rose as Tuvok and the admiral joined them on the balcony.

"Admiral, this is Captain Janeway," Tuvok said, "and our ship's EMH, who we call the Doctor."

"Zimmerman," the Doctor said quickly.

Janeway and Tuvok looked at him in surprise.

"Dr. Zimmerman," the Doctor said. "My name is Dr. Zimmerman." He spoke firmly, though with a sidelong glance at Tuvok and Janeway, almost as though he were expecting them to object in some way.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Dr. Zimmerman. Captain, Doctor, this is Rear Admiral Gary Bennett, Starfleet's Judge Advocate General."

They shook hands all around. Janeway had to still a slight tremor in her hands before her turn came. Of all the people she felt they needed to impress tonight, Bennett was the one she had worried about the most. She had never met him, and did not feel she knew enough about him to assess the best way to work on him. Well, now was her chance to find out.

They stood there for several minutes making small talk about Voyager's homecoming and the celebratory events planned in their honor. Bennett seemed friendly enough, and complimented them all on their triumphant return and inquired about their families. To Janeway's relief, Tuvok was as unflappable as ever and started a conversation by bringing up the topic of the Mari, a race of telepaths in the Delta Quadrant who had outlawed violent thoughts in an attempt to eliminate crime.

The judge's interest was piqued, and they spend several minutes discussing how the Mari's policy had actually led to the creation of an underground market in violent thoughts.

"Tell me, what did the Mari do to those who committed one of these... thought crimes?" Bennett asked curiously.

"Their memories were forcibly purged," Tuvok said. "In fact, the Mari attempted to do so to one of our crewmembers."

Bennett raised his eyebrows. "Even if our technology were capable of safely carrying out such a sentence, I could not condone that approach," he said mildly. "Such a practice would put an end to all the concepts about justice we have developed over the centuries. Without an opportunity to atone for our offenses, how can there be contrition? Mercy? A chance to change our ways and become better than we are?"

Janeway could feel the knot in her stomach loosening ever so slightly.

Back in the ballroom, the orchestra struck up a new song. Admiral Bennett turned to Janeway. "Well, captain, before everyone here spots the guest of honor and a line starts forming next to you, would you do this old man the honor of having a dance?"

She dreaded going back into the stuffy ballroom, but she smiled anyway. "That would be lovely."

As she left the balcony, she glanced back at Tuvok.

"Have you had a dance yet, Tuvok?" she asked.

"I have not," Tuvok said stiffly.

"Don't make me make it an order, Commander."

Admiral Bennett led Janeway out to the dance floor and they began to move to the music. They passed Neelix, who was getting crushed in the embrace of a Klingon woman wearing an ambassador's sash and didn't look at though he minded at all.

"Admiral," Janeway said, "while I have you, I wonder if I could solicit your opinion regarding a legal matter."

Bennett immediately frowned. "I'm sorry, captain, but I don't think it would be appropriate for us to discuss your impending courts-martial at this venue."

"Actually, I was more worried about my crew," she said calmly, although a jolt went through her at his use of the plural. She wasn't exactly surprised, but it wasn't pleasant to have it confirmed, either. As difficult as it was to traverse ethical thickets in the heat of a situation, attempting to sort things out in front of a board of inquiry after the fact was no picnic, either.

"I don't think we can discuss the Equinox cases, either," Bennett said. "You're likely to be called as a witness."

"I understand that," she said quickly. "I was hoping to get your legal insights regarding those of my crewmembers who served on the Val Jean. Unofficially, of course."

Bennett looked slightly surprised, and then slowly nodded. "From what I've heard, everyone on that ship who previously served in Starfleet did resign their commissions before beginning their Maquis activities, which means their cases won't pass through my office. They'll be tried in Federation civilian courts by a jury of their peers and then sentenced by a panel of three judges."

"I've started looking through the cases of other Maquis who were tried civilly during the years we were in the Delta Quadrant," Janeway said. "Many were given only a year or two in minimum-security penal colonies. But a woman named Sveta Korepanova is now serving fifteen years in a secure location for the same crimes, and a few others were given harsher punishments as well. I was hoping you could explain the legal reasoning behind such disparities in sentencing."

Bennett sighed. "Just between you and I?"

"Of course."

Bennett spoke slowly, carefully. "When the Dominion War began, Captain, I think it's safe to say that public opinion regarding the Maquis turned a corner. We experienced massive losses in Starfleet, and eventually among civilian centers as well. You may have heard by now that we lost control of Betazed for a time. Suddenly, even citizens living far from the Demilitarized Zone were being impacted personally by the war. There was hardly a person left in the Federation who didn't know someone who had been killed, injured or left homeless by the conflict.

"The upshot of it all is that people starting looking at the Maquis a little differently," he continued. "With so much of their anger directed against the Dominion, they lost their appetite for punishing their fellow citizens for the crime of trying to protect their own homes. You'll see a noticeable dropoff in sentence length for the Maquis beginning around that time. Unfortunately, by that time there weren't many Maquis left alive to try."

Janeway nodded. "I understand, but Korepanova-"

"I'm familiar with her case," Bennett said. "She recruited Chakotay to the Maquis, didn't she?"

"She did."

"And she recruited others," Bennett said. "Quite a few others. Primarily Starfleet officers, I might add. People who were conflicted about whether open rebellion was the right thing to do. And Korepanova gave them the nudge they needed, and took some outstanding officers away from Starfleet just when we needed them most."

"So the judges threw the book at her," Janeway said grimly.

"I think it's safe to say that the judges viewed recruiting activities as less like self-defense and more like treason," Bennett said. "They wanted to make an example of her."

Janeway didn't say anything to that, but there was nothing Bennett could have said that could have worried her more. Chakotay had recruited a significant portion of his crew from Starfleet, too. It had worked to Janeway's advantage in the Delta Quadrant, since there were only a handful of the Maquis crew who had needed additional training to learn how to operate on a Starfleet ship. But now...

If the judges were already prejudiced against Maquis recruiters, would any amount of public relations efforts on Janeway's part be able to change their minds?

And what else could she do for Chakotay?

It was getting late. Paris took Torres and little Miral away, and not long afterward Tuvok and Kim paid their final respects to Janeway before they left to be with their families. Neelix and the Doctor had disappeared, she didn't see where. Seven was still ensconced at a table talking to Picard, Data and LaForge, along with the woman in the strange hat Janeway didn't know.

She introduced Icheb to Admiral Hayes and they spoke for a time about how to go about moving his regeneration alcove into the student housing at Starfleet Academy, but long after Icheb had left, Hayes continued to chatter away inconsequentially at her, and no subtle hints that she dropped about how late it was getting seemed to have any effect on him. Of all the things that must have happened in the last eight years, the one thing he chose to talk to her about was the infestation of aphids in his maple trees. Janeway had to stifle a yawn.

Suddenly, in the distance through the thinning crowd she saw her salvation. Chakotay was talking to a bent old man dressed in a rumpled brown suit. Suppressing her eagerness, she kept nodding and um-humming at Hayes, all the while glancing continually over at Chakotay until finally she managed to catch his eye. Tugging on her right earlobe significantly, she smiled sweetly at Hayes. "It sounds like you had quite the time with those aphids," she said. In the distance, she could see Chakotay excusing himself from the old man and coming over to rescue her from the windbag. Thank heavens, he had remembered the old signal they had worked out to save each other from the Doctor or Chell when one of them was going off on one of their tears.

Now Chakotay was at her side. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Admiral Hayes," he said politely, "but Captain Janeway did promise to dance with me at least once before the night was out."

As a matter of fact they had never actually discussed a dance, but Janeway wasn't about to say that.

"Yes, of course, by all means," Hayes said, and gratefully Janeway took Chakotay's hand as he led her out to the dance floor.

"Thank you," she said with feeling as Chakotay took her in his arms and they began to move together. The full orchestra from earlier in the night had now been replaced by a string quartet. "I thought he would never stop talking. Who was that you were speaking with?"

"Boothby," he said.

"That was Boothby?" she exclaimed. "In that case, I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Not at all," Chakotay said. "I got a good long talk with him, and he was starting to look tired, anyway. He seems a lot older and weaker than the last time I saw him."

"I hope not," Janeway said. "I can't imagine the Academy without him."

They danced in silence for minute or so. They had not danced together since Tom and B'Elanna's wedding, and Janeway had forgotten how assertively Chakotay danced. There was no question about who was leading. After the long day she'd had, it was nice to simply turn over control and let him move her around the dance floor using the firm pressure of his hand on her hand and against her back. She gazed up at his face and thought that he looked a little worn down. How difficult it must have been for him to spend the evening smiling and making small talk, when he must have wanted nothing more than to go home and mourn for his friends in peace. And he had not uttered a word of complaint or given a sign of impatience. Her eyes softened, and she gave him the tiniest ghost of a smile. He gave her the barest hint of a smile back.

The song ended, but Chakotay made no move to let her go as a smattering of applause broke out. Another song started, a slower one. This time Chakotay closed the distance between them slightly, and they began to make slow circles together across the floor.

She had always found the rhythm of the waltz soothing, and now Janeway could feel sleepiness beginning to settle over her like a wave. She resisted the temptation to lay her head on Chakotay's shoulder. She thought he probably wouldn't mind, but Hayes wasn't the only admiral who had lingered late into the night, and there were still holo-photographers wandering around the ballroom snapping candid shots. Something like that would probably look strange on the newsfeeds in the morning.

"Are you going home to Indiana tonight?" he murmured in her ear.

"No. I knew I'd be here late and I didn't want to disturb my mother; she's a light sleeper. I've been assigned rooms here at Headquarters, so I'll stay here tonight and then go home in the morning. What about you?"

"I was assigned an apartment here too, but I'm heading to Huatabampo tonight, to stay with my sister for now," Chakotay said. "I used to have my own place in Arizona, but it seems someone else moved in during my absence."

"Mmmm. Too bad. I lost my old place, too, along with all my furniture. I think my mom expected me to be upset that she gave it all away, but honestly, I can barely even remember the things I had." She stifled a yawn. "It's all right. I don't really need my own place right now. I'll probably spend every free moment with family anyway."

"And you have to promise me," Chakotay said. "No work at all. Not like tonight. You have eight years' worth of vacation coming to you and I expect you to use it."

"Debriefings start in two weeks," she reminded him.

"So you don't need to work for two weeks," he said. "Do you think you could get away with turning off your combadge? I don't trust you to say no when everyone on Earth starts calling you tomorrow, wanting a piece of your glory."

"I won't need to turn off my combadge," she said sleepily. "I've been assigned an assistant who is going to monitor my calls and only put through urgent ones. The Doctor is way ahead of you, Commander. We hadn't touched down before he managed to get a counselor assigned to me. I haven't even met her yet, but apparently she took one look at my medical file and had a conniption. I'm under strict orders to rest until the debriefings start, and after that I'm not to work one minute over eight hours a day."

"That sounds promising," Chakotay said, moving his hand more securely across her back. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"I'll be good," Janeway assured him. "I admit it, I am... tired. Burned out. If someone gave me orders to go back into space tomorrow, I'd tell them to go jump in a lake."

"Lake George?" Chakotay asked.

She chuckled briefly. "Why not? It's a good place to take a long walk off a short pier. You know, you and I should go there sometime. To the real one, in New York. We'll go for a nice sail again."

"I'm going to hold you to that," he said.

The song ended. Chakotay briefly took both her hands in his.

"Good night, Kathryn," he said. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"You're leaving now?"

Chakotay nodded. "I'll call you in two weeks."

"All right." Despite her sleepiness, Janeway felt a sudden twinge of... something. She and Chakotay had a long-delayed talk coming. A talk about whether they both still wanted to pursue a relationship, after years of putting things on hold. Was he going to expect an answer on that in two weeks? Was she ready to give him one?

Or was he planning to tell her that he had changed his mind? And he didn't want to tell her now because he didn't want to spoil their homecoming?

He was looking at her now a little too knowingly. "You're thinking of work," he said.

"I wasn't," she objected.

"You were. You looked stressed."

"I don't have anything left to be stressed about. We're home. Everything's perfect."

Chakotay was silent for a moment. "I hope so," he said at last. "Well. Have a good vacation."

"You too. Good night, Chakotay."

She watched him stroll out of the ballroom alone. She took a deep breath. Two weeks to sort everything out with Mark and get some closure. That was plenty of time. She would be ready.

Near the doorway, a Bolian woman in a science uniform was waving excitedly at Janeway, beckoning her over. She recognized the woman as a science officer she had served with on the Al-Batani many years ago. Janeway picked up her skirts and went over to get reacquainted with her friend.

Two weeks. She would be ready. Of course she would.

TO BE CONTINUED

IN

"HOMECOMING: THE VOYAGER COALITION, VOLUME II"

Author's note: I chose to split my Homecoming novel into two parts, partly so potential new readers don't get intimidated by the increasingly large word count, but mostly because of the tone shift: up until now, my story has been an action/adventure story set mostly in space, but from here on out it will be set largely on Earth and will be more focused on relationships and the fate of the Maquis. I hope you stay tuned for Volume II, which I began posting today, and thank you to everyone who has followed along and left reviews: I am so grateful for your support and your helpful critiques!

Please, feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments, either for Volume I as a whole, or for this chapter in particular. I had a lot of fun imagining how the homecoming reception would go, and trying my hand at characters like Q and the Enterprise crew. I hope you enjoyed it too.

Song recs: For anyone who is curious, I imagined Harry's song as an amalgam of the "Star Trek: Voyager" theme song by Jerry Goldsmith, "Echoes of the Void" from the episode "Night," the Borg theme from "First Contact," and "The American Symphony" by Michael Kamen from "Mr. Holland's Opus."