Tom didn’t know what he or anyone else might have been able to provide Chakotay to make her loss easier to bear, but they could have taken a shot.
Instead, Chakotay’s grief had festered until it had actually transformed him into the worst possible version of himself. And if this afternoon was any indication, that version might be here to stay.
He wanted to contact Harry, who would probably accuse him of having an overactive imagination. To this day Harry was so uncomfortable with subterfuge that he would find the scenario impossible to believe of two people he thought he had known as well as Chakotay and Admiral Janeway.
Tom knew he was right.
And he also knew that being right made absolutely no difference now.
But it might, in the very near future. At some point Chakotay was going to return to Voyager, and then they were going to have a very long captain/first officer conversation. After all they’d been through together, Chakotay would have to acknowledge the truth, and that alone might be a good start.
Suddenly abashed, Tom realized that for months, he too had been guilty of some serious withholding. Many people, Chakotay among them, had been devastated when he told them that he and B’Elanna had separated. Because Tom always believed that he would have a chance to make it up to them and that when they learned the whole truth, they would forgive him, he had refused to delve too deeply into the temporary pain he was causing them.
His father would never know the truth. But even after his death Tom hadn’t hurried to lighten the burden of his mother or other friends.
That was largely because the time had finally come to put the final phase of B’Elanna’s plan into effect. Tom had known it as surely as his name the moment he had been briefed on Voyager’s new mission.
Earlier that week, Eden had provided him with the fleet’s final launch schedule. Calculating out a few weeks from there, Tom had arrived at a date.
All that remained was for him to send a simple message.
Tom hurried out of his apartment to the nearest public communications terminal and, using a draconian series of encryptions, sent the transmission that had been agreed upon months before.
“Now” was the only pertinent word in the message.
Tom knew that Kahless would understand.
MAY 2381
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Seven had been surprised, upon entering the small conference room, to see the room filled beyond capacity. She recognized no one present apart from the Doctor, though clearly she was not moving among the room anonymously. The moment she entered, Seven was conscious of whispers and murmurs even as the crowd was good enough to clear a space for her to walk to the table where the EMH was seated.
“Seven, you made it,” he said with obvious pleasure, rising to greet her.
“You did indicate that it was important to you,” she replied simply.
“We should be getting started any minute,” the Doctor went on, clearly anxious. “I’ve saved a seat for you.”
Seven would have preferred to stand. She was not in attendance in any official capacity and did not want to presume upon, or interfere with, the deliberations at hand. However, having been denied the restorative powers of regeneration in favor of the far less efficient restorative powers of sleep, she was physically more tired than usual these days and accepted the chair with silent gratitude. Dealing with the constant voice added to her burden, but Seven had grown accustomed to its presence.
A trio of officers entered and were momentarily taken aback by the size of the crowd.
The captain in charge, a Bolian female, addressed them briefly.
“While I understand that these proceedings may have a broader interest than a simple personnel assignment would warrant, this is a closed session. Anyone not here in an official capacity, please avail the exits in an orderly fashion.”
A few grumbles were met with a fierce and unbending stare by the captain, and the crowd began to disperse. Seven imagined that the Doctor’s physical parameters visibly shrunk as what had surely been his “supporters” filed out. Seven started to rise, but a firm hand was placed over hers by the Doctor, and she kept her seat.
As the captain and her aides took their own places opposite the Doctor, the captain turned a dismayed eye on Seven.
“Professor Hansen, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I prefer to be called Seven of Nine, or Seven,” she replied.
“Very well, Seven. If you’d be so kind as to—”
“I invited Seven to this meeting, Captain,” the Doctor interjected, “and would consider it a personal favor if you would allow her to remain.”
The aides exchanged a nervous glance, but the captain merely sighed. “Fine. But I will advise you on the record, Miss Seven, that this meeting is confidential, and your discretion will be appreciated.”
“Of course.” Seven nodded.
“Then let’s get on with it, shall we?”
“Please,” the Doctor said, smiling expectantly.
“I have reviewed your written objection to our previous finding as well as the letters you provided on your behalf from Doctor Louis Zimmerman, Lieutenant Reginald Barclay, Commander Thomas Paris, and Doctor Bruce Maddox. To my mind, they only confirm our initial conclusion that your work on advanced holographic design is far more important to the Federation at this time—”
Before the captain could finish her thought, the room’s main door swished open.
“I thought I made it clear—” she began, but stopped mid-sentence when Captain Eden hurried into the room.
“I’m sorry,” Eden said, clearly flustered. “I’m late, aren’t I?”
“Captain Eden,” the Bolian said, rising.
“Captain Ferchew,” Eden responded, shaking her hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have just received the final approval for the Emergency Medical Vessel’s inclusion in the fleet that is being assembled under Admiral Batiste in conjunction with Project Full Circle.”
“I wasn’t aware—” Ferchew bristled.
“And for that I apologize. We’re all working long days and nights to prepare the fleet, and I was not certain until this morning of its final complement.”
“Understandable. However, our offices have already assigned all relevant personnel to the vessel. Are you here to request changes?”
“I am.” Eden nodded, slipping into a vacant chair at the head of the table and bridging the distance between the Doctor and Ferchew. “As you know, I am the officer in charge of operations and logistics for the fleet, and wish to state unequivocally that it is my belief that the fleet’s upcoming mission will be aided tremendously by the presence of the EMH Mark 1 we’ve come to call the Doctor.”
Seven noted that Eden hadn’t so much as glanced at her or the Doctor since she entered the room. At her announcement, the Doctor sat up a little straighter.
“Upon what do you base this assertion?” Ferchew asked.
Eden continued authoritatively, “I am not at liberty to discuss the specifics of the fleet’s upcoming mission in the presence of anyone but yourself, Captain. In general, however, we believe that the Doctor’s past experience will prove invaluable to the fleet’s work. I have personally interviewed the Doctor a number of times in my work with Project Full Circle, and even outside the auspices of the fleet’s mission I believe that he has proven himself to be a unique asset in his previous starship assignment.”
“Not to put too fine a point on it, Captain,” Ferchew interrupted, “but he’s a hologram, and all of the fleet vessels, particularly the Emergency Medical Vessel, are being equipped with our most recent and most advanced versions of his original program. Aren’t we up to the Mark 11 now?”
Eden actually sat back and considered Ferchew with what Seven sensed was disdain.
“He’s a sentient hologram, Captain,” she replied.
“We’re not here to debate that prickly issue,” Ferchew said wearily.
“Good,” Eden replied, “as I don’t thi
nk anyone who actually knows the Doctor or has served with him would question it.”
Ferchew withered slightly under Eden’s reproof.
“If I may, in support of my position, I would like to read to you from the final letter then Captain Kathryn Janeway placed in the Doctor’s permanent record upon Voyager’s return to the Alpha quadrant. As you are undoubtedly aware, she placed similar letters and commendations in the files of all of her crewmen.”
“We are aware of Admiral Janeway’s recommendations, and they have always been taken into account when considering assignments for her former crew.”
“If that’s the case, I don’t understand why your office would have denied the Doctor’s request to return to active duty.”
“Captain, the EMH Mark 1 is a unique creation and was a valuable asset to Voyager while they were lost in the Delta quadrant. Beyond that, I’m not sure what one might find of relevance in Admiral Janeway’s recommendation.”
Clearing her throat, Eden began to read aloud from a padd she held before her.
“‘Initially, like most of my crew, I was inclined to dismiss the EMH as nothing more than a very useful tool provided to us by Starfleet engineers. However, over time, and thanks in large part to the insights of the crew members serving consistently with him, including the Ocampan, Kes, and Lieutenant Thomas Paris, I began to see the shortsightedness of my own prejudices. As the Doctor’s program was forced to run almost continuously over the seven years he served aboard Voyager, it became clear that over time and primarily through his own efforts, he far exceeded even the most optimistic expectations of his designers. He learned to adjust his behavioral subroutines to offer a more compassionate presence to his patients. He engaged regularly in activities for which he was never programmed in order to better understand the crew under his care. He developed deep and intense personal relationships with the crew and a number of aliens we encountered. And in an incident that forever banished any question I might have had about his sentience, he struggled valiantly through an imminent cascade failure when his ethical subroutines encountered a situation which, as a commanding officer, I have often faced: the choice between saving the life of one crew member with whom he had interacted regularly over another whom he did not know well. As a human, I am forced to accept my limitations and grieve for the reality that often is situational ethics. To the best of my knowledge, no advanced computer programming could possibly resolve that crisis for him, but he managed to overcome it through patience, reasoned debate, and most importantly, the comfort he was offered and accepted from his friends aboard Voyager.
“‘Unique individuals like the Doctor are often misunderstood, especially by their creators. Time and again he demonstrated the capacity to learn and to grow, and it is my belief that he would continue to do so most effectively if he were allowed the opportunity to continue to serve actively aboard a starship. I realize that several new generations of Emergency Medical Holograms have been designed and implemented while Voyager was away. I would never trade the Doctor for any of them, as none of them have demonstrated the humanity I came to treasure in our chief medical officer. In closing, I doubt seriously that my ship or crew would have survived our long journey without him.’”
As Eden finished reading, Seven found her eyes welling up. Hearing Janeway’s words was an unpleasant reminder of the loss and her own current internal battle as to what had been best and worst in the admiral. Much of her anger had begun to subside, but Seven was struck again by an intense desire to discuss the challenges she was now facing with her former captain and friend. She was equally curious to know if Janeway had placed a similar letter in her file, and if so, the nature of its contents.
Glancing toward the Doctor, she could see that he had been both moved and uplifted by Kathryn’s words.
Eden’s final remark on the subject was brief. “I can’t say it better myself, Captain, and given what the fleet’s crew is about to face, I can only recommend that we provide them with those among us with the most experience and ability to meet the challenges ahead. I don’t know about you, but Kathryn Janeway’s recommendation is good enough for me.”
Ferchew took a moment to stare at the Doctor, who returned her gaze firmly. Finally she made a note on her own padd and said, “Your request to add the EMH Mark 1, also known as the Doctor, to the crew complement of the Emergency Medical Vessel is hereby approved. His program will be added to those already installed aboard the vessel, and he will serve in the capacity of chief medical officer. If there is nothing else, we are adjourned.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Eden said graciously.
Ferchew responded with a brisk nod and left quickly, followed by her staff.
The Doctor turned immediately to Seven and enveloped her in a tight, joyful hug. As Eden rose, he hurried to her to shake her hand and profess his undying gratitude.
“I’m just doing my job, Doctor,” Eden assured him. “I know it isn’t everything you wanted, but I fully expect that your command abilities will also be enhanced in your upcoming assignment, and I look forward to reading your new commander’s reports.”
“What can you tell me about our mission, Captain?” the Doctor asked.
“Unfortunately, nothing more at the moment. You’ll be briefed along with the rest of the crew in a few weeks. Until then, keep up the good work.”
“Thank you, Captain. I will.”
Turning to Seven, Eden said, “I’m surprised to see you here today.”
“The Doctor was in need of moral support,” Seven replied.
“Do you have a moment to speak with me in private?” Eden asked.
Somewhat discomfited, Seven nodded and with the Doctor’s blessing allowed Eden to usher her from the room.
Eden led Seven out of the building into a lushly landscaped courtyard. Several other tall white edifices comprised the complex; the parklike setting was clearly designed to provide a convenient location for lunches or peaceful reflection outside the confines of their cubicles.
A few officers walked the manicured paths, and atop a small knoll a group of several administrative personnel were enjoying a makeshift picnic lunch.
Eden had been naturally drawn here. She hadn’t breathed enough nonrecycled air for months.
Seven’s long strides easily matched her own. Stealing a glance at her, Eden was struck again by her fine, strong features. There was definitely something softer about her now that Borg implants no longer marred her face. But there was also something sadder about her. The captain could only imagine the toll the last ten months had taken on Seven; Eden had been called upon time and again during each escalating crisis to provide counsel to those in command.
And here I am, about to do it again, Eden thought ruefully.
“Have you ever been offered an official position within Starfleet?” Eden asked.
“I am a professor at the Academy, as you undoubtedly are aware,” Seven replied in a tone that suggested her inability to suffer fools.
“But you aren’t an officer?”
“No,” Seven said.
“Any reason why not?”
“I have never been offered a commission, nor would I accept one were it to be offered,” Seven replied. “My current obligations are sufficiently strenuous.”
“And yet the Federation hasn’t failed to add to those obligations on a regular basis by asking you to consult on a variety of matters relating to the Borg?”
“No.” Seven shook her head. “They have not.”
Eden paused her steps and turned to face Seven. “I find myself in the unenviable position of trespassing upon your generosity once again on behalf of the Federation.”
Seven’s head cocked to the right. “Explain,” she requested.
“Before I do, I must advise you that you are not at liberty to discuss this conversation with anyone.”
Eden thought Seven was about to roll her eyes, but she settled for a deep sigh.
“I believe I possess sufficient discretion to
rise to the challenge, Captain,” she replied icily.
“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” Eden hurried to add. “I just needed to make sure you were aware of the sensitivity of what I am about to reveal to you.”
“Explain,” Seven said.
“Starfleet is currently preparing to send nine ships, including Voyager, back to the Delta quadrant.”
Seven did her the credit of at least appearing shocked to hear this.
“May I ask why?” she demanded.
“The fleet’s primary mission is exploratory and diplomatic. Voyager’s circumstances permitted it to chart only what lay in the path it took to get home. Even then, tens of thousands of light-years were skipped as it found shortcuts along the way. On the diplomatic side…well, let’s just say there are a few fences we’d like to mend, if we can. More importantly, however, Starfleet is seeking confirmation that the Borg are truly gone and also investigating the possibility that the Caeliar might still be out there.”
Seven’s face flushed slightly.
“I believe I have indicated on a number of occasions my position on that question,” she said.
“And I don’t doubt you have expressed those beliefs honestly,” Eden agreed. “But we can’t just take the word of a handful of people as proof positive that the Borg have miraculously vanished and that the Caeliar now pose no further threat to us.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Eden found herself faltering. “Because we can’t,” she finally insisted. “And even if the Caeliar and the Borg really are gone, it’s going to leave a disproportionately large power vacuum, particularly in the Delta quadrant.”
“Does the Federation intend to fill that vacuum?” Seven asked warily.
“No,” Eden replied. “But we need to understand what’s out there now and what, if any, impact it might have on the Federation in the long term.”
“Might I suggest that for the foreseeable future, the Federation busy itself with tending to its own territories?” Seven said, clearly irked.
Star Trek: Voyager®: Full Circle Page 36
