Star Trek: Voyager: Endgame

victories. The Borg transwarp network had imploded. The way to the Delta Quadrant was sealed up, and the ship and its crew were finally home. Her mission was complete. She had delivered the starship to its rightful owners, and her crewmates to their families and futures.
    She settled back and murmured, “Thanks for everything, Admiral Janeway . . .”
    Chakotay alone heard her, or heard something. He turned. “Course, Captain?”
    She turned and gave him an ironic smile. Then she gave an order she had given many times over the last seven years.
    “Set a course for home,” she said firmly.
    Home.



Now the laborer's task is o'er;
    Now the battle day is past;
    Now upon the farther shore
    Lands the voyager at last.



CHAPTER 1

    T OM P ARIS LOOKED AT THE NEWBORN , ONLY A FEW MINUTES OLD , cradled awkwardly in his arms. She weighed only a few kilos, but felt so solid, so real to him. Her skin was reddish brown and wrinkled. Thick, coarse black hair covered her skull, larger even than a human baby's. Small ridges furrowed her brow, which he traced with a tender finger. As he watched, she yawned and waved a tiny fist in the air, almost defiantly, as if she dared anyone to come between her and a nap.
    “She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he said, and even as he acknowledged his daughter's wrinkled ugliness, he knew the words were completely true. He glanced over at B'Elanna. “Except, of course, for her mother.”
    Gently, he sat down on the sickbay bed beside her as she smiled tiredly at him. “Nice save,” she said, with a hint of her old robust demeanor.
    “How's Mommy feeling?” he asked.
    “Mommy's felt better,” she admitted, and extended her arms for the child.
    “Mother and child are just fine, though Mother is understandably cranky,” said the Doctor. “You should be able to return to duty in approximately three days, Lieutenant. I feel compelled to inform you that I have downloaded everything in the database on the care of both Klingon and human infants.” He preened a bit. “I'd make an excellent baby-sitter.”
    Tom grinned and gave his wife the baby, and his arms felt oddly empty as B'Elanna guided the child to her breast. He could get into this whole father thing, he thought.
    “Janeway to Lieutenant Paris.”
    Tom grimaced, then replied, “Paris here.”
    “Report to my ready room.”
    He looked at B'Elanna. “Aye, Captain.” Reluctantly he rose. “I thought we were on parental leave, but apparently duty calls. Sorry, girls.”
    B'Elanna gave him a strange expression that he couldn't read. She reached out and touched his face tenderly. “I love you, Tom.”
    Now, why would she pick this time to say that? What was going on in that head of hers? “I love you too,” he said, taking the hand that caressed his cheek and kissing it. “Both of you. Be back as soon as I can.”
    * * *
    When he reached the bridge, he was surprised to see Captain Janeway sitting in her command chair, not in the ready room. He raised an eyebrow in question. In response, she nodded toward the room. “In the ready room, Mr. Paris.”
    This was getting downright confusing. “Yes ma'am,” he said.
    The door hissed open. An imposing-looking, white-haired man rose from where he had been sitting at Janeway's desk. Tom's throat went dry.
    “Dad,” he breathed. Then, snapping to attention, he said, “Your pardon, sir. I mean, good day, Admiral Paris.”
    Of course this was going to happen. Admiral Owen Paris had been heavily involved in Project
Voyager.
Tom knew that. Of course, as the project's nominal head, Paris would be the first to board the lost vessel finally returned home. But Tom had been so thoroughly engrossed in thoughts of his wife and child that the likelihood that he would soon be reunited with his father had completely skipped his mind. Now he understood B'Elanna's peculiar look as he had left. Even she had figured it out before he had.
    Admiral Paris's face was carefully neutral.
Damn,
thought Tom,
he looks so much older, so much more careworn.
The seven years that had passed since they last spoke had not been kind to him. Tom wondered how he appeared in his father's eyes.
    Admiral Paris folded his hands behind his back, echoing his son's formal stance.
    “Lieutenant Paris. It's . . . it's good to see you. I'm glad you completed your mission so successfully. Your captain has many glowing things to say about you.”
    “No more than I have to say about her, sir. It's been a