Atonement (52 page)

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 and 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.

NEW TALAX

V
esta
'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.

“New boots?”

“Just
replicated. Like 'em?”

“Black has always been a great color on you. It matches your soul.”

“I've completed the routine physical evaluation of our new ensign. He'll be assigned to
Voyager
?”

“That will be up to Admiral Janeway.”

“He seems like a good kid. His sense of humor could use a little work. He takes himself a bit too seriously.”

“After all he's seen in the last few months, I don't know how he could do otherwise.”

El'nor nodded, placing her hands behind her head and leaning back. “It's a fine line, Regina.”

“Perhaps, but I've never had much trouble figuring out which side of it was the right one to stand on. I'm not surprised that men like this Commander Briggs exist. What defies belief are the actions of his superior and subordinate officers. And what scares the hell out of me is the thought that if Tom Paris doesn't piss off his mother and end up in a position to help Seven and Sharak, the whole story probably ends very differently.”

“I'll admit I was tempted to tender my resignation to Starfleet Medical when you told me about that classified lab. If they knew what was going on and condoned it, that's evil. If they didn't, they're criminally obtuse. But then I realized they have the same problem we do, only on a larger scale. We lost too many seasoned officers during the Invasion. Those left behind lack experience and judgment and are living with varying degrees of PTSD. We face existential threats on a fairly regular basis out here. The folks back home are not accustomed to seeing devastation on that scale and getting right back on the horse.”

“I'm not willing to chalk Briggs's actions up to a neurosis, El'nor.”

“No, he was a special kind of sick. But the fears that allowed him to justify his megalomania are common.”