Chapter Text
Epilogue
After the memorial service, no one seemed ready to disperse. Perhaps the solemnity of the moment simply demanded they remain together for a while longer, to offer comfort to their Voyager family; or perhaps it served to remind everyone that their time as a single crew was coming to an end, and they wanted--no, needed--to stay together as long as possible.
Kathryn wanted to stay there with them, but she had an appointment to keep. After whispering her intention to Chakotay, she slipped away and returned to Voyager. As she entered her ready room, Kathryn said, "Computer. Engage privacy lock. No interruptions." The command was sufficient to assure that no one would barge in for anything less than a full scale attack on the ship. She wanted privacy for this transmission.
Sitting at her desk, she activated the computer and punched in a few quick commands. Almost immediately, she found herself looking at the logo for the United Federation of Planets, and then Owen Paris appeared. "Captain," he said evenly. "It's good to see you again. Are you alone?"
"I am. And you?"
He relaxed into a smile. "Yes. My God, Kathryn, it is good to see you. I wish I were there to give you a proper hug."
She smiled. "You'll have a chance soon. We're scheduled to leave for Earth in less than an hour."
"I know." His happiness faded. "I can guess why you're calling."
"You probably can. Admiral--" she paused and leaned forward--"Owen. What is going on? Why won't anyone tell me what's going to happen?"
He cleared his throat, and then folded his hands together in an oddly formal pose that was, even for Owen, stiff and unnatural. "I can tell you what will happen in the short term. Enterprise will escort Voyager back to the Sol system, where you will be given final instructions. So far, they can't decide whether to have you disembark at Spacedock or at HQ. Whichever, you will receive the red carpet treatment and full honors--bands, color guards, even the President of the Federation will be there. The speeches will last at least an hour. Your crew will then be asked to report to Starfleet Medical for a once-over before letting everyone meet their families. Apparently there is still some fear that your EMH might have missed something and you are carrying some Delta Quadrant contagion. I know, I know--it doesn't make sense to do medical clearance after you shake the President's hand. You've all been checked out by your own physician and at Deep Space Nine. The exams here are just perfunctory.
"After medical clearance, all of your crew except you and your senior staff will be given two weeks of leave. They want about three days of preliminary de-briefing with your top people before they release you for the holidays."
There was something about his voice, a flatness in his tone, that alerted her. He knew something he hadn't told her--something he didn't like. "What happens after that? What happens to Chakotay and the rest of the Maquis?"
"I don't know, Kathryn, and that is the God's honest truth." He paused, and she realized how much he had aged in the years of Voyager's absence. For the first time, he looked old to her. He went on, "The reason I'm here and not there is that I have been trying to find out. I don't think anyone knows for certain yet."
She frowned. "That's hard to believe."
"Only because you've been away for so long. It's an odd time. We're at a political crossroads, in my opinion." He shook his head. "If you'd made it home two years ago, there would have been no doubt. Your Maquis would be facing certain conviction and prison time. If you hadn't shown up until two years from now, I think nobody would care that they once opposed the Federation, and you all would simply be welcomed home. But at the moment, things are in flux."
"We came home too soon?" She glared at him, not caring about his rank. "Do you have any idea how outrageous that statement is?"
"Yes, I do." His face hardened a little, a sign that he was displeased. "But I have no voice in this. Everyone knows I've got a conflict of interest. Kathryn, you do realize what a great thing you’ve done, getting back in only eight years?"
She shook her head, and waved a hand in the air to brush off his words. "My crew did a great thing."
"We don't need modesty between us. A crew lives up to its captain's expectations. Wasn't that one of the first things I taught you?" He glared at her so fiercely that for a moment she felt like a green ensign again. "And greatness is best appreciated in the history books. In real time, it has a tendency to make people uncomfortable."
"I don't think of myself as a hero..." she began.
"Just listen," he snapped, teacher to student. "In his day, James T. Kirk was called a renegade, a one-shot wonder and just plain lucky. It wasn't until decades after his death that he received the respect he deserved. Jean-Luc Picard spent virtually all of the Dominion War patrolling the Romulan border. The Romulans were our allies. Do you know why they wasted the flagship of the fleet on such a mundane task? Because greatness scares the snot out of the little people who know they can never be great themselves."
"I don't understand," she said slowly.
Owen leaned toward the screen, his gaze intent on her. He was in full professorial mode, just like the days when he had been her thesis advisor at the Academy. "There are plenty of people back here who feel threatened by you. Some because they see independent thought and courage as a threat to the chain of command. They will call you a maverick and unreliable. Others fear you because they know they could not have made the hard decisions or endured the privations that you did, and they don't want to be eclipsed by you. Still others don't understand the agony of deciding how far to compromise morals in the name of survival. They've never been in a situation more hazardous than a clogged toilet and tend to see things in black and white."
He paused, arching his eyebrows for emphasis. "And some of these people are admirals."
"Oh." She settled back in her chair. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
"I don't know." He looked frustrated. "That's the hell of it, Kathryn. I don't know. But I think so. Those damned scandal sheets haven't done you any good."
She looked away from the screen, drawing a long, slow breath. "I did the best I could. I wasn't perfect, but I never gave it anything less than my best."
"You did great," Owen said with surprising force. "For what it's worth, I'll tell anyone who asks that I couldn't ask anything more of any of my students. You have become a remarkable commander, and if I had any small part in that, I am proud."
If her own father had said that, she could not have been more grateful. Owen Paris had been her advisor, her first commander, her mentor and her role model. For all his flaws and mistakes, he was still the officer who, after Edward Janeway, had influenced her the most. Her heart swelled. "Thank you. It's worth a lot."
"If things go badly, I won't be much use to you except as moral support, but you've got that," he said. "Even if we didn't have as much history as we do, I would owe you my life for what you've done for my son."
"It wasn't me," she said, struggling to keep her emotions under control. "Tom turned himself around."
"Yes, but he had a lot of help from you and that rather intimidating young woman he married." Owen grinned suddenly, and it made him look a decade younger. "I do have a bit of good news, if you wouldn't mind passing it along. I finally heard from the New Zealand Outmate Board. It's set to rule on Tom's status. They have to wait until he's back on Earth, but they are going to declare he has served his time and is free to go."
Her smile threatened to split her face. "That is good news. I'll tell him right away."
"And tell him that we'll have a birthday party for Miral as soon as we can. I want to see that little miss blow out her candle."
Kathryn started to tell him that there would be a party on Voyager on Miral's actual birthday, while they were en route to Earth, but she caught herself in time. Owen probably knew that and didn't care--he had every right to throw another party if he wanted. Despite all the reunions, she was still operating in Delta Quadrant terms. She had to get used to being home again, and remembering that family beyond the ship's bulkheads were once again active participants in their lives. "Of course you do. Don't worry. I'll tell him."
"Damn, the timer is blinking at me." He touched some control, then looked at her again. "Kathryn, stay focused on what's important. If they start picking on the minutia, don't lose sight of the big picture. You have done something no other Starfleet captain has ever done and they can't take that away. Don't forget that."
"I won't." She nodded. "See you at HQ, Admiral."
"Count on it, Captain. Count on it."
His image was replaced by the UFP laurel wreath, and then the screen went dark. She sat still, thinking. For some reason she had always thought things would be clearer when they got back to the Alpha Quadrant, that the future would sort itself more quickly and she could plan her strategies with confidence. It seemed that was a pipe dream, and life was just as unpredictable here as in the Delta Quadrant.
"Well," she said aloud, "if there's one thing we've learned in the past eight years, it's how to prepare for the unexpected." Then she stood and smiled. If the here and now were all she could control, she'd do so--including (finally!) having a nice quiet dinner with her mother and Chakotay. Whatever else was waiting for them, it was waiting on Earth.
It was time for Voyager to go home.