Atonement Read online

  Doctor Sharak was in rare form, regaling Julia, Seven, Sam, and Gres with the tale of his visit the previous day with President Bacco. Paris joined them midway through the doctor’s tale.

  “She is truly a great leader,” Sharak observed. “Her apologies could not have been more sincere. For any person who bears her responsibilities, it would be impractical to take the suffering of individuals personally, but she holds them in her heart.”

  “She is a leader of great intellect and compassion,” Seven agreed.

  “Ambassador Jarral could scarcely believe his good fortune,” Sharak continued. “He feared she would ask for his recall when she learned that he accepted the refugees from Arehaz.”

  “Cthulia. The flames burning,” Ratham interjected.

  “Liaka of Penthal. The river rising,” Sharak retorted. “Instead, President Bacco marveled at his courage and refused to accept an apology. She insisted that all of the blame for what Riley’s people have suffered was her responsibility and reminded Jarral that true friends must always demand the best of one another, especially when they fail to live up to their expectations.”

  “Her words were more colorful than that,” Ratham insisted.

  “Have I misunderstood the meaning of the term ‘horse’s ass’?” Sharak asked.

  Sam Wildman laughed so hard, she looked ready to burst into tears. “No, I don’t think so,” she replied through her mirth.

  Wildman sat blissfully beside her husband, whose arm was draped over her shoulder. Paris, Wildman, and Doctor Sharak had met privately with the president as well to accept her thanks on behalf of the Federation. Following that meeting, they had been briefed by Admiral Akaar.

  The court-martial of Commander Briggs was still pending but would be a swift affair. Paris knew that even the Federation had deep, dark holes down which those who shared Briggs’s moral failings tended to fall. The Commander wasn’t going to be spending his days at the New Zealand penal colony to which Tom had once been dispatched. When that court-martial ended, no one was ever going to hear of Briggs again.

  Both the head of Starfleet Medical and the Federation Institute of Health were in the process of being replaced. All of the officers who had served with Briggs, including Doctors Frist and Everett, were under investigation. Paris knew that even if they were ultimately cleared of any knowledge of Briggs’s actions or complicity, their next posts would be considerably less high-profile than their last. Starfleet officers and presidential appointees were expected to follow orders, but not mindlessly. The cult of personality Briggs had established should have set off numerous red flags. The entire situation clearly troubled Admiral Akaar deeply. Paris didn’t doubt that Akaar would diligently follow the investigations of these officers with an eye toward preventing any similar fiascos in the future.

  Paris and Sharak would be returning to the fleet with commendations for bravery and initiative in their files. Wildman had received a promotion along with her choice of billets. To Paris’s surprise, she had requested a transfer to Ktaria. Apparently the Wildman family was moving to Gres’s homeworld and were thrilled at the prospect. Gres and Naomi’s detour to the planet had lasted more than a week, and during that time, Naomi had made an important decision. Paris watched as Seven extricated herself from the group and moved toward Naomi, who was seated beside Gretchen Janeway near the dessert buffet.

  To his surprise, Phoebe Janeway moved to take the spot Seven had left next to Paris.

  “It’s good to see you again, Miss Janeway,” Paris greeted her.

  “Phoebe, please, Commander Paris.”

  “Tom.”

  Phoebe smiled hesitantly. “I wonder if you could do me a favor, Tom?”

  “Name it.”

  “I grew up idolizing Kathryn, even though I never shared her passions. Before she was lost in the Delta Quadrant, I would have argued with anyone who said they knew her better than I did.”

  Paris nodded for her to continue.

  “I don’t think that’s true anymore.”

  “It’s not unusual. I grew up in the same house with my dad but I don’t think I really got to know him until after we got back from the Delta Quadrant.”

  “Who is she?” Phoebe asked. “What I meant to ask is, who is she now? What’s it like to serve under her?”

  Paris smiled. “It’s challenging. It’s never dull. But she’s not cold and distant like a lot of people in her position. When she sees you struggling, she rolls up her sleeves, get right down in the ditch with you, and starts shoveling.”

  “You’re fond of her?”

  “I owe her my career and my life, several times over, Phoebe. Fond doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  Their conversation continued well into the wee hours of the night. When it ended, Phoebe made one last personal request of Tom Paris.

  • • • • •

  “When Kathryn was your age,” Gretchen Janeway was saying as Seven settled herself beside Naomi, “she lived and breathed tennis.”

  “Not parrises squares or velocity?” Naomi asked.

  “They weren’t played at her school. She went to a traditional secondary school rather than Academy prep. Her father and I always assumed she’d end up at the Academy, but we wanted to make sure she had as much experience outside of Starfleet as possible.”

  “Why? If all she wanted was to serve in Starfleet . . .” Naomi began.

  Gretchen smiled benevolently. “Children like Kathryn, so focused and so driven, could easily end up with a very narrow view of the universe. I was content to have her follow her passion into the service, but she needed to know about the world she was signing up to protect. There’s more to life than Starfleet, even for her most dedicated officers. Not that she understood it at the time. She rebelled in every way she could imagine.”

  “Admiral Janeway, a rebel?” Naomi asked in disbelief.

  “One day, ask her to tell you the story of her most memorable diving experience with Mark Johnson,” Gretchen suggested conspiratorially. “She was about your age at the time.”

  “I will,” Naomi said, her eyes widening.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Gretchen said, rising. “I need to find our hostess and see if I can get the recipe for that amazing vegetable pie.”

  “See you later, Mrs. Janeway,” Naomi said cheerfully.

  “Count on it, Miss Wildman,” Gretchen replied with a wink.

  Once she was out of earshot, Naomi turned to Seven. “I don’t think Admiral Janeway has much in common with her mom. Mrs. Janeway is so . . .”

  “What?” Seven asked, truly intrigued.

  “Easygoing?” Naomi suggested.

  “You have not had sufficient opportunity to observe Admiral Janeway off-duty,” Seven said. “You might be surprised by her occasional lapses in decorum.”

  Naomi shrugged, suddenly thoughtful. “I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.”

  “She will return to Earth when the fleet’s mission is done. It may be a few years,” Seven allowed.

  “But I won’t be here. I don’t know where I’ll be by then.”

  “She will always find you,” Seven insisted. “Never doubt that.”

  Naomi smiled. “You think I made the right decision?”

  “I think you are much happier now than I have seen you in some time,” Seven replied. “Wrong choices seldom bring one the sense of peace I see in you.”

  “Ktaria was like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Naomi said. “It was so beautiful, the jungles, the wildlife. It’s part of me too. I want to know it, not just study it in a classroom at the Academy.”

  “I think you are very brave, Naomi,” Seven said.

  “Brave?”

  “The Academy, for all of its challenges, was a known quantity. Your life, once you graduated, would progress along a familiar course. Instead, you are choosing to embrace another path.”

  “I still might go back to the Academy one day,” Naomi said.

  “And if you do, you will likely be better prepared
than you were this time to endure the rigors of that life.”

  “Speaking of endurance, have you spoken to Icheb?” Naomi asked. “I sent him a message when I got back, telling him I was withdrawing from the Academy, but I haven’t received a response. Do you think he’s mad at me?”

  “I would not assign any meaning to his silence at this time,” Seven cautioned her. “As long as you are pleased with your choice, he will accept it and continue to support you. You are very dear to him, as I’m sure you know.”

  “I’d like to see him before we go back to Ktaria.”

  “I’m not sure if that will be possible,” Seven said. “But I will give him any message you wish.”

  “How? You’re going back in the morning, aren’t you?”

  Seven’s face clouded over. Both she and Paris had spoken at length with Admiral Akaar about Icheb and the critical role he had played in their mission to uncover Commander Briggs’s designs. Neither had been allowed to speak to Icheb since they learned of the termination of his internship and both feared the worst. Akaar had agreed to take their words into consideration and to speak with Icheb’s academic advisor. They were unaware of any disciplinary actions to be taken against Icheb, but given the nature of his many transgressions over the last several months, such actions seemed inevitable.

  Seven had already decided that should Icheb lose his place at the Academy, she would ask Admiral Janeway to accept him as her personal aide, the same way she had asked Captain Eden to accept Chakotay when they first rejoined the fleet. Seven simply could not bear the thought of Icheb alone on Earth, denied the only life of which he had ever dreamed. Seven had asked Admiral Akaar to keep her advised of Icheb’s status.

  “I intend to remain in touch with both you and Icheb,” Seven said simply. “I will not allow the physical distance between us to become an obstacle to our friendship.”

  Noami smiled brightly. Seven listened attentively as she began to speak of the cousins she had met on Ktaria and the home she and her parents would share there. It was nice to think that Seven would be leaving at least one of those dearest to her in such a joyful place.

  STARFLEET HEADQUARTERS

  It had been a long day for Starfleet’s commander in chief. His first meeting of the morning had been with Admiral Kenneth Montgomery. Akaar had formally advised Montgomery of his intention to assume operational command of the Full Circle Fleet. He had given Montgomery the choice of resigning immediately or facing disciplinary action that would result in a demotion at best, or a court-martial at worst.

  Leonard James Akaar had no doubt which course Montgomery would choose: the same course he always chose, that of least resistance.

  Initially, Montgomery had protested. Both knew that several medical and science research facilities within Starfleet were now dedicated to unlocking the secrets of programmable matter. While Akaar was content to allow line officers, like Tom Paris, and civilians, like Seven of Nine, to enjoy the illusion of claiming the moral high ground, those at Starfleet Command knew better.

  Akaar had proceeded to lay out the full extent of Briggs’s atrocities, many of which surprised Montgomery, but wouldn’t have if he’d bothered to read Paris’s report. Even Ken Montgomery had the good sense not to argue that Briggs deserved what was coming to him. But where had Montgomery erred? He had strictly followed the chain of command.

  Akaar had replied that no one occupying a sensitive position within the upper echelons could ever use plausible deniability as an excuse for poor judgment. It was Montgomery’s first responsibility to provide the officers under his command with the latitude and support they required to face the challenges presented to them. He had failed to do that on numerous occasions. All of his decisions were designed to keep his ass well covered. Now, more than ever, Akaar needed people determined to act in the Federation’s best interests, especially when it was inconvenient. Moreover, they must have a firm grasp of their respective moral compasses.

  Ken Montgomery was not Starfleet.

  The rest of Akaar’s day had been occupied with the latest reports of the Typhon Pact’s movements. He had been called to the Palais for an emergency briefing regarding the Romulans. No one really knew yet what to make of the new praetor, Gell Kamemor, so every scrap of intelligence received was gnawed to the bone.

  By the time he returned to San Francisco, Cadet Icheb had been waiting outside his office, as requested, for more than three hours.

  • • • • •

  The last several weeks of Icheb’s life had been agonizing. When his latest internship was rescinded, his advisor had indicated that he was being placed on academic restriction, pending suspension. Lieutenant Commander Blayk had not reported anything untoward when he had requested a transfer for Icheb. But Icheb was the first cadet in recent memory to lose placement in two separate internships within days of reporting to each.

  No questions had been asked. No disciplinary hearings had been convened. But Icheb felt the scrutiny of each of his instructors and was under orders to limit his movements to his classes and his quarters until further notice.

  It was only a matter of time.

  When he had been summoned to Admiral Akaar’s office, Icheb was relieved. The waiting was over. He did not regret any of his choices. He could not have done less for Seven. But when he tried to imagine a future that did not include Starfleet, the knots in his stomach pulled tighter, and he found it impossible to focus his mind.

  He entered the admiral’s office and stood at attention. The admiral sat behind his desk, considering Icheb in silence for an unnerving period of time. They had never been formally introduced. Unless the admiral was telepathic, Icheb wasn’t sure what intelligence might be gained from this extended pensive observation. It might only be intended to test Icheb’s ability to endure excessive anxiety. Of course, it was not his place to ask, or speak, or breathe deeply until given leave by Akaar.

  “You’ve been a busy young man these last few months, Cadet Icheb,” Akaar finally began without preamble. “Illegally accessing a classified lab at Starfleet Medical, intentionally sabotaging their sensors to hide your movements, executing unauthorized transports from Earth Orbital Control, deleting transporter logs, and tampering with their software to temporarily mask Seven’s comm signal.”

  Icheb swallowed his terror. Akaar could separate him from the Academy, but he couldn’t kill him.

  He didn’t think.

  Akaar rose from his desk following the list of grievous acts and moved to stand directly in front of Icheb. The admiral was impossibly tall. As he crossed his arms over his chest, Icheb had a spectacular view of the lower half of the admiral’s uniform sleeves.

  Of course, he couldn’t see the admiral’s face, so the odd tenderness in Akaar’s voice when he spoke again was completely unexpected.

  “Do I have another Jim Kirk on my hands here?”

  It took every ounce of discipline Icheb possessed to refrain from looking up. Akaar came to his aid by sitting back against his desk. With only a slight elevation of his chin, Icheb was finally able to meet Akaar’s eyes. The admiral’s gaze was hard, but not cold. Icheb was tempted to take the question as a compliment, but dared not believe it possible.

  “It is clear to me that you no longer possess the ability to conduct yourself appropriately as a cadet. You have given me no choice but to order that you be separated from the Academy.”

  Icheb felt his face falling but otherwise remained still.

  He had expected no less.

  “You’re not being drummed out of the service, Icheb,” Akaar continued. “You’re graduating early. Effective immediately, I am assigning you to the Full Circle Fleet, which is now under my direct supervision. It is my fervent hope that Admiral Janeway and Captain Chakotay will have more success than your Academy instructors did in taming your renegade impulses.

  “You are, in my estimation, a rare breed of Starfleet officer. Your career will go one of two ways. Your determination to follow your instincts an
d the dictates of your own judgment, even when they go against your given orders, will either lead to catastrophe, in which case Starfleet will be well rid of you, or you will rise up the chain of command.

  “I hope it will be the latter, but I won’t be surprised either way.”

  With that, Akaar rose again to his full height. He turned and took a padd from his desk, offering it to Icheb.

  “Here are your new orders, Ensign. Take them, and get out.”

  Icheb did as he had been instructed.

  27

  NEW TALAX

  Vesta’s journey from the Kinara’s rendezvous point back to New Talax had gone off without incident. Captain Regina Farkas had used the time—before their safe arrival and receiving notice that the fleet was en route—conducting a level-1 diagnostic of the restored communications relays. There was no sign of further tampering or cloaked vessels in the area.

  Farkas’s instincts told her that Thulan was a decent fellow. He also appeared to be a man of his word.

  Ambassador Neelix had not hesitated to offer the captain New Talax’s hospitality. Vesta’s crew was too large to visit the colony en masse, but regular visits of small groups were scheduled as appropriate, and each day a variety of fresh Talaxian dishes appeared in the mess hall for the crew to sample. Neelix had also shared all the intelligence his people had gathered over the last few months, and descriptions of several previously unknown Delta Quadrant species were added to Vesta’s database.

  Farkas’s patience had been tried waiting for word from Admiral Janeway, and when it finally came, her relief had been palpable. Before Voyager, Demeter, and Galen arrived at New Talax, the Home Free had returned with Commander Paris, Seven, Doctor Sharak, and Ensign Icheb. Their briefing had chilled Farkas to her core, but she had congratulated all of them on a job well done, certain that Admiral Janeway would echo that sentiment.

  Doctor Sal requested admittance to the captain’s ready room shortly before Voyager, Galen, and Demeter were due. Farkas remained seated at her desk, but set aside the reports she’d been reviewing as Sal took the seat opposite her and put her feet up on the captain’s desk.