UNPLANNED

 

Author's note:

Since some readers are troubled by these issues, I'd better mention that this story contains miscarriages, abortions, and dead babies, though with a minimum of graphic detail.  It also, however, contains plenty of warmth and humor and optimism, and I hope you'll give it a try.

 

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Disclaimer: Copyright for everything related to Star Trek is held by Paramount. This particular story is mine--written for fun, not for profit.

 

Special thanks to the creators, cast, and crew of Voyager, to the executives at Paramount--without them, after all, there wouldn't have been a Voyager--and especially to Kate Mulgrew and Robert Beltran, for creating two such memorable and compelling characters.

 

For Guy, as always--

 

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[two]

 

"Janeway to Chakotay. I'm on my way to my ready room--meet me there, please."

 

"Aye, Captain. Glad to have you back aboard."

 

She sounded good, he thought, brisk, businesslike. Maybe a little terse, but that was probably because the more powerful warp coil they'd obtained from the Zeru wasn't turning out to be as compatible with Voyager's systems as they'd anticipated; he'd gotten a report on that from Engineering a few minutes before. No problem--B'Elanna could never resist a challenge, and failure wasn't an outcome she had much acquaintance with. She'd probably call with an encouraging update as soon as she and her teams had a chance to poke around in the guts of the thing. And if she didn't, they'd cope. They'd coped with far worse disappointments than that.

 

In the ready room he replicated a good, strong cup of coffee so the six-day-high stack of padds awaiting the captain's attention wouldn't look quite so threatening; she was always tired after a diplomatic mission, and sometimes a little inclined to vent. He had left the door open behind him, but she entered through the corridor door--which surprised him, because she usually liked to check in with the bridge crew after an absence of several days, to bask in their welcome and tease them about a coup while she was gone. He closed the bridge door and approached the desk with a smile. "You got back just in time. Tom was about to mount a steering wheel on the helm."

 

She didn't smile in return; he wasn't sure his jest had even registered. She must have really had to turn on the charm, he thought with inward affection; prolonged civility always wore her down. It required more time, and time was something she never thought she had enough of. Not that the Zeru, a friendly and generous species with a mix of reptilian and amphibian physiological traits, had seemed to him to need much buttering up. They operated a bustling space station at the edge of a dense cluster of star systems, to which Voyager had come in weary relief after some weeks of growing concern over declining fuel and supply reserves; ration reductions had been only days away. The Zeru were intrigued by their visitors' story and eager to be of assistance. Nobody's warning bells had sounded the slightest ping, and all the captain's reports from the Zeru homeworld had been comfortingly routine. Of course there was always the possibility that something had happened on Zera that she hadn't wanted to discuss over a comm link--though there hadn't been any indication that their communications were monitored, and during the night the landing parties had been free to socialize or enjoy their private suites in the central administration complex as they chose. Maybe a cultural practice or belief had led to misunderstanding-- If so, well, they'd cope with that, too.

 

She added another stack of padds to those already on the desk but she didn't take her seat, only stood looking down at the desktop with her fingertips pressed against the surface. "Chakotay, I have a problem and I need some advice."

 

He sobered at once, suddenly aware that she hadn't seemed even to notice the coffee. "Glad to help any way I can." She had started to pick with a fingernail at the corner of the desk where the finish was coming off. After almost ten years in the Delta Quadrant the finish was coming off a lot of things.

 

"I--seem to be pregnant."

 

He was startled into relieved laughter--if she was going to open with a statement that outrageous, her problem couldn't be all that daunting. "That's pretty good. I've got one for you. Neelix is really a member of Species 8472--I swear I saw a stray tentacle the other day--" She didn't laugh, didn't even smile, but she did at last look up, directly at him for the first time since she'd come into the room. He saw her pallor then, read the new lines of strain on her brow and around her mouth, and his heart went cold. "You're serious."

 

"I'm afraid so." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. She cleared her throat and drew breath to offer what small explanation she could, but she was silenced by the blank, frozen expression on his face.

 

"I--see. I didn't know you were--involved with anyone."

 

He spoke very quietly. He was doing well to find the breath to speak at all. This particular revelation stunned him almost as much as her announcement. He was always stunned when it happened because it was so rare, rare for him as well--and then his mind raced away from reason into a whirlwind of jealousy, envy, anger, and fear of loss that shamed him even as he was helpless in its power. Was it Harry? A steady, admirable young lieutenant now, no longer a green ensign. No, it wouldn't be any of the bridge crew--he knew that better than anyone aboard. Mort Herren, maybe--he and Kathryn got along famously now-- Tom Paris? Bridge crew notwithstanding, there had always been a sort of spark between them. His instant rage was overwhelming. If Paris is cheating on B'Elanna I'll kill him, and maybe Kathryn too--

 

"I'm not," Janeway snapped, annoyed that he would think it even while knowing he could hardly think anything else, knowing, too, that he was thinking it had to be someone on the ship--they hadn't been at Zera long enough for her to get involved with anybody there, even if that was her habit, which it most certainly was NOT--and besides, if he could stop seeing red he would realize that he could account for all her time on the surface, because she was always good about checking in when she was off the ship--didn't she expect the same from him? And why the hell had he made light of the whole ridiculous, terrifying situation when she'd had to rehearse for an hour how to tell him, and then had botched it-- She grabbed the coffee mug from the desk and gulped, unreasonably furious with him for being thoughtful enough to put it there.

 

"Then how--?" He hardly knew what questions to ask, but at least he was coherent enough to try, his temper, flaring madly from shock and hurt, having at last responded to his efforts to rein it in. He knew very well that he couldn't begin to imagine how badly Kathryn was reeling.

 

She could tell he was doing his best to shift into problem-solving mode, and that helped her as much as she had known it would. He always helped, even when it didn't feel like help at first--but she hated having to turn to him for this of all calamities, had dreaded this conversation as she had dreaded few others--

 

At last she sat down, her back stiff, her hands gripping the mug. "Everything happened just as I reported. We arrived on schedule, the Zeru wined and dined us and talked our ears off, everybody liked everybody else, everybody gained something, we beamed back aboard. When Nozawa ran the standard decon filters he found some anomalies, so he summoned the Doctor, who informed the women in the landing party that we are carrying fertilized Zeru eggs."

 

He blinked, several times. "All of you?"

 

"B'Elanna, Samantha, Sue, Celes, Golwat, Lang, and me." She managed something like a wry smile, and one or two of her vertebrae loosened a bit. "If it's any consolation, I laughed, too, when he told us."

 

"But--" He sank into a chair, something he didn't usually do without her spoken or unspoken invitation. "--how?"

 

"The Doctor doesn't know anything yet. He doesn't even really know if this is a true pregnancy or a parasitical invasion. In Zeru reproduction it's apparently something of both. Hmm--I wonder if you could say the same about most humanoid pregnancies as well. Anyway, he's running tests and consulting with Zeru physicians and biologists and fertility experts--anyone who might have some useful input."

 

"Are you all right? Are you in danger--any of you?"

 

"Not as far as we know."

 

"Is it safe for the--hosts--to remove the parasite?"

 

She frowned. "It's a life form, Chakotay."

 

"I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that the safety of this crew is our primary responsibility."

 

"No--the Prime Directive is our primary responsibility."

 

"Sometimes it's yours," he conceded, and her frown deepened into a scowl. "But this isn't a Prime Directive issue--not everything is, no matter how much you want that set of rules and regulations and interpretations to guide your every action and decision. This isn't a less-advanced civilization we have to protect. These people are our equals, in some ways our superiors."

 

Janeway set down the mug with a thunk. One minute she was practically in tears because he was so considerate; the next she wanted to throttle him because he was so determined to be contrary. How in the worlds had she put up with him all these years? "All right, maybe--maybe--it isn't technically a Prime Directive issue, but it's still an ethical issue. This is a child, Chakotay."

 

He flinched at the word, resisting it, refusing to think of this as a true pregnancy until and unless the Doctor said it was. "Ethics works both ways, with responsibilities on both sides. How are the Zeru reacting?"

 

"They're horrified and confused and as baffled as the Doctor is. This has never happened before, not with any of the dozens of species who regularly visit their world." She picked up the mug again and said, reluctantly and more or less in the direction of the coffee within, "They've already said they have no objection to whatever we decide to do."

 

His sigh of relief was audible. "That will make things a lot easier."

 

"In a way. But it also puts the decision squarely on our shoulders."

 

"I don't see that there's much of a decision to make." She was silent. "Kathryn, you aren't seriously considering having this--'child,' are you?"

 

"I don't know," she said slowly. A wondering smile erased some of the worry from her face, and his own worry meter shot to red alert. "There's a fascinating scientific dimension to this, you know. The life form resulting from this accident would be unique." Wonder was abruptly erased by bleak despair; her mouth thinned into a harsh line. "I've already murdered one unique life form because its existence was inconvenient. I won't do it again."

 

"You can't use a simple, black-and-white term like 'murder' to describe the situation with Tuvix--"

 

"What would you call it?"

 

He let her challenge pass; he still, all these years later, couldn't offer a better solution, a right solution, to that agonizing episode, and she knew it. "You didn't volunteer for this experiment."

 

"I didn't volunteer for the Delta Quadrant either, and neither did you, but here we are."

 

"Here we are." He got up and paced about, trying unsuccessfully to loosen the knots of tension in his shoulders, to ward off the vise of headache forming over his scalp. "Kathryn--if you do choose to go through with this, or if you don't have a choice--" He turned to face her. "I don't see how we can leave here until the--child--is delivered. You could be perfectly fine now but get into serious trouble in a month or two."

 

"I was wondering if you would come to the same unwelcome conclusion I did. Chakotay, I don't want to have to tell this crew that we're staying in one place for nearly a year!"

 

He didn't move, but she could see him steadying himself against a descending weight. "I'll tell them."

 

She gave him one of her you're-too-good-to-me smiles. How did I get so lucky? "No, if they have to be told, I'll tell them, all of them, face to face in the cargo bay. But--" The smile became sheepish. "--I wouldn't turn down a little moral support."

 

His own smile told her that she hadn't needed to ask. "You'll have it."

 

There was a long silence, while they considered the inevitable ramifications, the morale problems they always faced when the Starfleet mindset clashed with the Maquis, concerns still real, though less acute, even after all this time, concerns so familiar they no longer had to voice them.

 

Then Chakotay returned to his seat, his posture more relaxed than previously--though he wouldn't be human, she reflected, if he wasn't aware of how much more difficult his job might be in the coming months. "Maybe the time wouldn't be wasted. A lot of traffic comes through this base, and there are other advanced systems nearby. We can make the effort to meet new species here, and send out research teams--maybe we'll learn something that will help us increase engine speed or efficiency. And you never know--somebody might have a catapult, or even a wormhole generator."

 

She was staring at him. "You aren't normal. Nobody is that good at looking on the bright side. But then," she added, not in accusation but as a simple statement of fact, "you aren't in such a hurry to get home as I am."

 

The grin that had started on his face became a resigned rolling of his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that I want to get home? But I'll admit that delays don't make me chafe the way they do you."

 

She swirled the coffee remaining in the mug, fretting with a sudden pang of nascent maternal guilt that maybe she shouldn't be drinking it at all. "Let's hope most of the crew take after you rather than me, if it comes to that--"

 

 

 

 

It did come to that, just as she had known it would--and she wondered whether her certainty sprang in part from the hormonal changes the Doctor confirmed in Sickbay two days later, when the first shock had in most of the affected crew eased into something like acceptance. The seven women with their husbands, partners, and closest friends gathered to hear his report, and she observed their resolution and courage with her usual pride. She had considered confining knowledge of the situation to those immediately involved until the Doctor could provide more information, but so many were involved it seemed unlikely that such a secret could be kept on a ship sustained by gossip as much as by warp engines. Besides, she admitted to herself, and felt a coward for it, if they all already knew, they too would be over the initial shock by the time she addressed them in the cargo bay. With any luck, some of them would already have anticipated what she would say.

 

"What you are experiencing," the Doctor began with his usual brusqueness, "is a true pregnancy, with the hormonal and metabolic fluctuations common to almost all humanoid species. Unfortunately, that is all I can tell you with confidence at this time. Having integrated into my program the relevant medical and biological texts from the Zera central databank, I now know as much about Zeru obstetrics as all Zeru physicians combined. That knowledge could prove largely irrelevant, however, as there is no guarantee that you will share any of their typical reproductive experiences. Nor can I assume, of course, that your pregnancies will be typical for your own respective species. Therefore I can offer no predictions as to risk or recommendations as to care. I am, strange as it may sound, as much in the dark as you are."

 

"Don't you have any idea how this happened?" Torres demanded. She looked as though she wanted to smash something, and Janeway noted that her husband was demonstrating his obvious concern from a respectful distance.

 

"Possibly. The Zeru conceive in a far more random manner than is usual for most humanoid species. At a certain point in her reproductive cycle, the female deposits eggs by the thousand in a body of clean, fresh water, sometimes deliberately, sometimes not. When a male at the requisite point in his reproductive cycle comes into contact with the eggs, they are fertilized by secretions primarily from his sexual organs but also from his skin--again, sometimes deliberately, sometimes not. Any given fertilized egg might attach itself to any given Zeru, male or female, entering through any of several body orifices and finding its way to the womb, an organ possessed by both sexes. The sex of the resulting fetus is determined by various biochemical processes within the body of the host, but usually results in a male bearing a male child and a female bearing a female child. The central administration complex where you were housed contains several lush ponds open to the public. I suspect they are well stocked with fertilized eggs, which apparently found their way into your body orifices in the same way as, to employ an unpleasant analogy, harmful bacteria in a polluted lake. Why this happened to you and not to countless other visitors, I and my Zeru colleagues are at a loss to--"

 

"Do you mean we got pregnant by going SWIMMING??"

 

"That is the current hypothesis," the Doctor replied, clearly offended by Torres's tone and her interruption. "And you didn't even have to skinny dip."

 

Before Torres could put her in the position of having to decide whether deleting the EMH's program was a court-martial offense, Janeway cut in. "Why weren't we aware of the danger? We took tricorder readings to determine the safety of the water."

 

"And the tricorder no doubt registered the presence of reptilian or amphibian eggs. But without very specific and sophisticated testing there was no way to know the effect of those eggs, if any, on a given swimmer. Besides, numerous other humanoid species swim in the lakes and ponds on this planet without taking a baby home as a souvenir. Clearly humans and closely related species like Bajorans are much more genetically compatible with the Zeru than any local species. One might speculate that the Zeru are related to the reptilian Voth, with whom humans share a genetic heritage. Bolians of course are somewhat amphibian in genetic make-up. I am frankly surprised that Lieutenant Torres's Klingon genes did not cause rejection of the embryo, and in fact her complex genetic structure might well prove troublesome later should she try to carry this child to term. In any case, you wouldn't hesitate to swim in a Terran lake, most of which would contain a healthy helping of the eggs of several species of frog. The tricorder can issue a warning only when it recognizes there is a danger."

 

Not until various of his listeners shifted position a little, took a deep breath, leaned against a bio bed, found a chair, did Janeway realize how still they'd all been, how breathlessly hopeful of a quick and painless solution.

 

"What I can offer," the Doctor continued, and his listeners turned to statues again, "is a termination of the pregnancy, induced by what Mr. Paris rather colorfully terms a 'hormone cocktail' consisting primarily of species-specific testosterone."

 

Amid numerous cautious sighs of relief, Chakotay asked, "What are the risks of termination?"

 

"Very minor, according to my tests. There will probably be side effects--aggression, depression, mood swings, increased hair growth in possibly undesirable locations--but those are easily treated."

 

"Do you know whether the embryos can be transplanted into a Zeru host?" Janeway asked.

 

"Not yet, but I suspect not--at least, not without putting the new host at risk in the same way the humanoid hosts might be. The humanoid elements would be foreign to their physiology."

 

"I see. Of course."

 

"When would we have to decide?" Nicoletti's voice was a little unsteady; she looked as if she hadn't had much sleep. Both Megan and Jenny Delaney had accompanied her and stood very near, lending what support they could.

 

"All indications now are that the treatment would be effective at any time, but the induced miscarriage will of course be more traumatic the longer you wait, with increased hormonal side effects and greater general stress on the body. In addition, I cannot predict how long it will be safe for the embryo to remain in the host body--for the embryo or for the host--and I cannot predict the effect on the host body should the embryo die."

 

"When will you be able to tell if the--um--children--will have any genetic defects?" Golwat and Chell stood with their hands tightly clasped, shared stress making their skin an even brighter blue than usual and more exactly matched.

 

"I can't tell you that either," the Doctor replied somewhat testily. "At this point I can't tell you how long the gestation period will be, whether the hybrid child can go to term, what complications might ensue during delivery. I really can't tell you any more than I already have." A sudden gentleness came into his bearing, as if he had accessed his compassion subroutines. "I wish I had more information to impart. I assure you all that I will be in constant contact with my Zeru colleagues in the coming days and weeks, and I will certainly inform you of anything new we discover. In the meantime, just come to see me when and if you want me to administer the--cocktail."

 

There were a few half-hearted murmurs of thanks. The Doctor, looking as if he couldn't decide whether to be sympathetic or disgruntled, began to work at a nearby console, not bothering to conceal his eavesdropping on the ensuing quiet discussions.

 

Quick, but not painless, Janeway reflected. Abortion had been one of the most widely and hotly debated ethical issues throughout human history, in modern times ultimately decided, often painfully, by individual conscience. Fortunately in modern times, when almost foolproof birth control was universally available to those who chose to use it, the decision didn't have to be made very often. She caught snatches of objections and pleading from partners and friends, signs of obstinacy here and there. The sight of Samantha talking to Naomi on a nearby screen moved her almost to tears. She found it oddly calming to know that the Doctor would be genuinely objective--because I sure can't be.

 

"Doctor?" Silence fell upon the room as Wildman stepped forward. "I'd like the treatment now."

 

With a kindly nod of acknowledgment he gestured toward a bio bed and began to program a hypo, but before she joined him Wildman turned to Janeway. "It's because of Naomi," she explained, as if feeling the need to defend her decision in light of the fact that she had already been brave enough to bear and raise one child under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. "I can't put my duty to science or the Prime Directive or diplomacy above my duty to my daughter."

 

Janeway clasped her hands. "Of course not, Samantha--I completely understand. Naomi will be relieved, I'm sure, and I don't blame her a bit."

 

"Thank you, Captain. She wanted to be here with me, but I didn't want to put her through this. I wouldn't have told her at all, but she sensed something was wrong."

 

"She will need to be aware of the possible side effects so they won't frighten her if they occur," the Doctor put in. "I am of course available to advise her as necessary."

 

Wildman's decision had prompted more agitated exchanges among the remaining couples and friends. Billy Telfer, as Tal Celes's best friend and sometime lover--Janeway wasn't sure which at present --was begging her to save herself. Though no longer a clinical hypochondriac Telfer was still an alarmist, and Tal looked as if she might be yielding to his pleas. The more Chell pleaded with Golwat, however, the more stubborn Golwat became, shaking her head with greater and greater vigor. Ally Lang and her husband, Raoul Molina, seemed to be telling each other jokes, perhaps to dispel tension but more likely because they were both rather easy-going, taking life as it came. They were a good match, and she had fond memories of officiating at their wedding the previous year. Nicoletti clung to Megan Delaney's hand, her eyes tightly shut. Janeway had heard she was seeing Bill Chapman, and wondered if Chapman's absence was by his or Susan's choice. Maybe she hadn't even told him yet--this could be quite a strain on a new relationship--

 

Her musings were halted when Lang came over to her. "I'm going to hang in there a while longer, Captain, see what happens. I don't know how long I'm good for, but I'll give it a try."

 

"If you need anything, Ally, don't hesitate to let me know."

 

"Yes, ma'am--thank you."

 

Raoul had dutifully manufactured a supportive smile, but just before the doors closed Janeway saw the uncertain look he shot in Billy Telfer's direction.

 

"I'll be a guinea pig, too," Golwat announced, cutting Chell off in mid-protest. "At least for a while."

 

"I won't," said Tal, though with tears in her eyes. "I--I can't. Please--I'd like to have the treatment now."

 

"Take a bed," said the Doctor, pointing. "And may I remind you both that no Federation guinea pig has seen the inside of a research lab in hundreds of years; computer simulations obviate the need for animal experimentation. Mr. Paris, would you please attend to Crewman Tal?"

 

"Sure." But it was a moment before Paris could make himself leave Torres's side. B'Elanna was deep in thought, staring unseeing at the floor; neither had said a word for some minutes. Janeway went over to her.

 

"B'Elanna?"

 

After a moment, Torres looked up. "Wow," was all she said.

 

Janeway leaned against the bio bed beside her and gave her shoulder a reassuring rub. "I think I'll put that in my report." Part of her wished somebody would rub her shoulder. Her glance strayed to Chakotay. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching Nicoletti; but as if he felt her eyes upon him he turned to meet and hold her gaze, his expression more than usually unrevealing.

 

Presently Wildman and Tal were finished with their injections, and the Doctor released them with instructions to rest for several hours and let him know if they experienced even the mildest discomfort. Nicoletti and the Delaneys exited with Wildman, Sue looking as small and lost as those long-ago guinea pigs must have felt.

 

"Your turn, B'Elanna," Tom said, and added to the room at large, "B'Elanna on testosterone-- how'd I get so lucky?" He grinned, but Janeway detected a hint of roughness in his voice, as if he wasn't as certain as he wanted to be that B'Elanna would acquiesce.

 

"As soon as the treatment takes effect," the Doctor said, "I can neutralize the excess and she'll be her usual charming self again."

 

"Doc, you're a true friend. I'll never threaten to deactivate you again--"

 

"I won't do it," Torres said.

 

Paris's certainty and relief visibly collapsed; his grin vanished. "What do you mean you won't do it?"

 

"I mean I won't do it. I almost made a really bad call about Miral and I don't want to rush into this."

 

"B'Elanna--"

 

"I won't do it, Tom. That's final."

 

"Could we just discuss it, please, before you make a pronouncement like that?"

 

"Fine, let's discuss it." And she stalked out, Paris scrambling to catch up.

 

The doors hissed closed, and Janeway drew a deep breath before she turned back to see the Doctor looking at her with expectance, Chakotay with something akin to apprehension. "I can't," she said to them. "Not now."

 

The Doctor seemed rather pleased, she thought. Another guinea pig to monitor. Chakotay was obviously disappointed but just as obviously not surprised. "You don't have to tell me," he said. "And I don't have to tell you that I don't like your taking this kind of risk."

 

There had never been any doubt in his mind that she would. Over the years he had witnessed her delight in Naomi and Miral and even Baby Q, her excitement at the births of Jarvin and Kyoto's twin boys and Boylan and White's daughter. He remembered their talks about the infant he had for a time believed was his, her confession of a certain wistful envy of the experiences he would have while raising him. Just now he had seen her sadness as Wildman and Tal very sensibly opted to play it safe, and her restrained but evident pleasure when the others chose the reverse.

 

"We don't really know that there is a risk," she pointed out. "I don't want to act prematurely."

 

"The longer it takes to find out, the more likely it will be that the pregnancy can't be terminated safely," he countered. "Besides, an unwanted physiological change that no doctor has any experience with and no medical knowledge of or tests to refer to-- As far as I'm concerned, under these circumstances your safety can be assumed to be at risk."

 

"No, it can't. You don't have any reason to assume that. The fact that conception could occur in the first place may be a good indication that everything will be fine."

 

"And you can't assume that given all the changes in a woman's body throughout pregnancy. Even in human-human pregnancies serious complications can develop, like breech births and blood clots, that were usually fatal throughout most of human history until the advances in modern obstetrics beginning in the twentieth century."

 

"I had no idea you were such an expert on obstetrical history."

 

"I did some reading when my sister was pregnant."

 

"You're too close to this, Chakotay, too biased."

 

He gaped at her as though that was the dumbest thing she'd ever said to him--which, she had to admit, it probably was. "Of course I'm biased--I don't deny that--but everyone on this ship has a stake in your decision, and that includes me, as your friend, and maybe more importantly as your first officer." She felt her face grow hot. The last thing she wanted was for him to make this a professional issue, thus obligating her to consider his objections more seriously, or at least in a different way. "Kathryn, I understand scientific curiosity--better than you often believe I do. But if it's determined that there's the slightest danger to you in carrying this child, I won't let you do this."

 

Her eyes narrowed and her voice grew flat and cold. "You won't 'let' me, Commander?"

 

"Yes, Captain--'let.' When you risk your safety for the good of the ship, I have to grit my teeth, say a prayer, and go along. But you're too important to this ship and crew to risk yourself for the sake of scientific curiosity and misplaced maternal yearnings." Her jaw was jutting out and she drew breath to snap a comeback, but he didn't give her the chance. "And the Doctor will agree with me." He glanced to his left for confirmation, only to find that the Doctor had evidently considered it prudent to relocate to his office.

 

She clenched her teeth to stifle the dozen or so ill-tempered retorts that sprang to mind--because she knew he was right: the Doctor would agree. Only once before had Chakotay threatened to use his ultimate weapon, medical intervention--in the Unimatrix Zero mission. He'd have done it then, and he would do it now. And now, as then, she was glad of it.

 

"Okay," she said.

 

He was girding himself mentally for prolonged battle when her surrender registered. He blinked. "'Okay'?"

 

That crooked, c'mon-you-know-you'll-forgive-me-eventually-so-you-might-as-well-do-it-now smile--that familiar exasperated pang in his heart-- "I'm not completely unreasonable, you know."

 

His eyebrows climbed, and she glared at him, and they shared a smile. At length she said, "I guess it's time to tell the crew." She sank into a chair. "God, Chakotay, how can I ask this of them?--" Especially of those members of their family who were living by a code they didn't always believe in--

 

"They'll understand," he said, and because he knew most of them better than she did, she believed him. She had to. "I'll assemble them at 1600. The ones who already know can hold the fort--if they're through 'discussing,' that is." There was a brief silence, and she had the impression that he might have liked to take her hand but thought better of it. "Kathryn, I need you to keep me in the loop on this. I need to know what you find out, and what you decide."

 

She reached out to take the hand he had hesitated to extend. "I promise."

 

 

 

 

She did tell them all, or most of them, standing on a makeshift platform of storage containers in the cargo bay, trying not to feel a little bit abandoned because none of the others indirectly responsible for this assembly were present, as they currently comprised part of the skeleton crew monitoring the ship's status while in orbit. Chakotay stood to her right a little closer than usual, just in case, he'd said, she suffered a dizzy spell and started to take a header off the platform. She wondered with mingled alarm and gratitude if he was planning to hover like that for the next nine months. Or more. Oh, God--

 

It was rare that she addressed so many of the crew at once. Usually when they gathered in such numbers it was for a funeral, and she hoped they too could take pleasure in the fact that this time the occasion wasn't so grim. She summarized the situation and tried--with a glance at Chakotay, on whose face she thought she detected the slightest hint of smugness--to head off any latent Maquis resentment by asserting that her decision had been guided not by the Prime Directive but by larger ethical concerns, by conscience. "It's so hard not to be able to tell you how long the delay will be--I know you'll feel trapped in a kind of limbo. And I know this isn't at all fair to those of you not directly affected. Believe me, those of us who are directly affected are none too happy about it ourselves. Obligations are not always sought, however, but are sometimes forced upon us, and we must do our best to honor them without complaint. Often we find within ourselves an actual eagerness to meet the challenge they present. We've all done remarkably well meeting the numerous challenges that have come our way. This one's a little different for most of you, a challenge not to your technical skills or your courage but to your patience and forbearance and adaptability. I have no doubt you'll all meet it--we'll meet it--and be stronger for it when, on a day that will be upon us before we know it--because that is the nature of days, isn't it?--we resume our journey toward home."

 

She was relieved to see on the faces looking up at her more than a few smiles of encouragement and support. Frustration was apparent on some, however, and resignation on many more, and she was pleased that those who seemed to understand her decision were taking in hand those who obviously did not. Some looked a little impatient with her speechifying, and in fact she hadn't intended to get quite so flowery; but she couldn't deny that a part of her was excited and intrigued by this development, just as a part of her had always thrived on the demands of their journey, and she had wanted to try to communicate that excitement to her crew in the hope that some of it would rub off on those most resistant.

 

Overall the initial response seemed to be positive. She'd been right that the entire crew had already been aware of the general situation and that some had already guessed the ship would remain in orbit around Zera. Some were even able to find humor in the predicament. Irreverent comments reached her ears--sometimes, she suspected, by design. "More lizard babies!" she heard, and: "My mother told me you couldn't get pregnant by swimming with a boy. Have I got news for her!" Chakotay reported that within an hour of the assembly betting pools were in place on everything from due dates to the hybrids' physical characteristics. Scales and gills were beating skin and lungs by two to one, and the Doctor was insisting on being allowed to bet along with the rest of the crew, since in this case he could not be said to possess inside information. She issued an executive order permitting his participation, and bet a day's rations herself on scales, thanking the stars that she had always considered the Zeru a handsome people.

 

Torres and Paris had been at their duty stations during the assembly, separated by the entire vertical span of the ship. The next time Janeway saw them together B'Elanna was being very growly and Klingon and Tom was treating her as if she might collapse at any moment. B'Elanna even snapped at poor Neelix, who was only trying to help by researching the typical food cravings of pregnant humans, Bolians, Klingons, and Zeru and preparing approximations (often based on leola root) with his usual enthusiasm. Janeway could sympathize with B'Elanna's ingratitude, however; two days after the assembly Neelix had accosted her at lunchtime with a trough of pickles and ice cream, which nearly made her sick on the spot. Nausea was just beginning to assail her, and that disgusting concoction threatened to kick it into overdrive.

 

Chakotay was with her and, bless him, ordered Neelix to remove the trough and bring her some cream of rice. "My mother used to make it whenever anybody in our village got pregnant. That's about as bland as it gets."

 

"I know just the thing," Neelix declared, his arms full of pickles swimming in a sea of vanilla-caramel goo. "I have some Ashnaki purple-brain rice with leola-root-and-algae tonic that I've been fermenting for weeks--"

 

"Neelix." Chakotay's tone was firm.

 

"Yes, Commander?"

 

"Plain cream of rice. No spices, no frills, no surprises. Plain, bland, boring cream of rice, in a very small bowl. Understood?"

 

Neelix looked rather dubious and wounded, but prudently replied, "If you insist--" He arrived some minutes later with, astonishingly, a small bowl of plain cream of rice, but proceeded to ruin the soothing effect by announcing that he had prepared three Bolian newtblood milkshakes that morning for Ensign Golwat's breakfast at her special request. "And did you know that the Zeru, being amphibians, more or less, tend to consume HUGE quantities of insects and their larvae when they're pregnant? Their tongues are covered with a sort of gluey mucus--"

 

"Neelix!"

 

Neelix jumped. "Yes, sir?"

 

Chakotay's hands were planted on the table as if he was about to stand. "Good-bye."

 

Neelix got the message and bustled away to torment somebody else, but the damage was done. Janeway pushed away the bowl. "I was fine ten minutes ago! I'm not sure the mess hall is safe for me any more." Chakotay, who was being considerate enough--or maybe it's just self-interest--not to eat in front of her, grinned and placed the bowl on another table several feet away.

 

"Excuse me, Captain, we couldn't help overhearing--" Harry Kim leaned over from the next table, which he was sharing with Gerren, Dalby, and the Delaney sisters. Janeway thought they--and the occupants of several other nearby tables--looked mightily entertained by the whole cream-of-rice episode. "My mother always gave me ginger for an upset stomach."

 

"Ours swears by Aldebaran trout beer," Megan put in, and Jenny nodded and made a face.

 

"My father used to make what he called Prophets' Nectar," said Gerren, "but it would make you sicker to hear what was in it. It worked, though."

 

"Give Neelix the recipe," Dalby suggested. "Uh-oh--" For Neelix had heard his name and was making his way over.

 

"Thank you for your suggestions," Janeway said in a rush. "I won't be surprised if among the five of us they all get tried. And now, Commander, I think it's time we beat a strategic retreat."

 

"Aye, Captain."

 

"Take good care of her, Commander," Kim called after them, and Chakotay gave him an acknowledging wink.

 

Janeway had to admit that part of her was rather enjoying being taken care of. Quite a few people were openly solicitous, but Chakotay was generous to a fault, covering some of her shift if she'd had a sleepless night or woke up feeling ill, making sure the crew weren't too demanding--being, she suspected, even more of a buffer than he usually was. He could be stubborn and unpredictable and usually didn't mince words--traits that both energized and irritated her--but when she was genuinely at a low ebb his sensitivity and thoughtfulness were limitless. At least she was in better shape than Ally Lang, who by the end of the first week was all but bedridden with ceaseless nausea and dizziness. Despite Raoul's badgering, the Doctor was reluctant to administer any medication to alleviate such symptoms unless absolutely necessary because he had no way of predicting the effect on the embryo. He was giving Lang fluids and the mildest of nausea remedies, and Janeway had relayed to her Harry's and the others' suggestions, but Ally wasn't having any luck with them. She herself was having some success with ginger tea, and Sue Nicoletti had tried Prophets' Nectar to good effect, remaining, by choice upon Gerren's recommendation, blissfully ignorant of its ingredients.

 

For Torres and Golwat, mood swings were the primary difficulty. Like Klingons, Bolians were somewhat more excitable than humans, and Golwat and Chell got into some shouting matches in the mess hall and their quarters that practically rattled the hull. The forbearance of B'Elanna's Engineering staff was being tested more than that of most of the crew, but since she was fairly well occupied by the problem of the incompatible warp coil the Doctor was at first able to avoid medicating her. He was frustrated, they were all frustrated, by the impossibility of knowing which symptoms were to be expected and which were cause for concern. But when the Engineering personnel began to bet on how long their boss's first mood of the morning would last--in one-minute increments--the Doctor was forced to relent. In doing so he earned a bear hug and very nearly a kiss from Paris, who stopped complaining about nightly concussions and begging Chakotay to assign him and B'Elanna to different shifts so that they would spend less time together. He, too, had been a prince, masking his worry with humor--the coarser the better--and removing himself and Miral from their quarters as often as possible to allow B'Elanna to rest (and to protect Miral from her mother's frightening temper). Thus Miral had become more of a presence in the mess hall even than usual, about which Neelix had not the slightest complaint.

 

Neelix, in fact, notwithstanding his unfortunate fascination with food cravings, had been instrumental in keeping everyone's spirits up during this transition period, filling the crew's off hours with parties and games to the extent that Janeway wondered how much sleep he was getting. Paris ran double features every night in his movie theater holo-program, which hadn't seen such large audiences for ages. Chakotay was doing his part by keeping the crew busy during their duty shifts, sending away teams to nearby moons and asteroids and neighboring planetary systems, sometimes with Zeru representatives as liaisons. For a few days teams assigned to Zera or hosting Zeru aboard shuttlecraft were comprised of men only, but soon the Doctor and his Zeru colleagues were able to confirm their swimming theory and women were reassigned, with no doubt unnecessary orders to stay away from any body of water larger than a birdbath. The Doctor also speculated that post-menopausal women would probably have been unaffected, but as Voyager had a young crew there were no such women aboard to test that hypothesis.

 

Once regular away duty and shore leave rotations were established Janeway received fewer reports of occasional minor bickering and displays of temper. As Chakotay pointed out, extended rest and a change of pace were actually doing them all good. Maintenance crews could fix a circuit or relay rather than having to jury-rig it and pray that it would hold through the next plasma storm or enemy bombardment, and before long would be turning their attention to purely cosmetic repairs like worn carpet and scratched paint; the ship would be in tip-top shape by the time they departed--whenever that might be. She was pleased, and relieved, to see her crew proving the adaptability in which she had placed so much faith, but at the same time she couldn't help wondering when the pendulum would swing the other way, when too much rest and leisure would lead to boredom, and thence to frustration and resentment, vented first on their shipmates but ultimately, inevitably, on their captain.

 

 

 

 

"Welcome to Voyager, Ambassador Bralohapia--it's nice to see you again, though I admit I could wish for somewhat different circumstances. Please come in, all of you, and sit wherever you like."

 

Janeway received the four Zeru in her ready room rather than the briefing room; the casual furnishings would better accommodate their tails of varying length, since there hadn't been time to replicate specially designed chairs for the briefing room. Besides, as dizzy and weak as she felt at the moment, the briefing room, on the other side of the bridge, seemed very far away. She had in fact thought it best to forego a personal welcome in the transporter room for fear she would pass out on the long walk to or fro, and so had delegated that duty to Chakotay, who now sat down next to her at the opposite end of the table from the plates of fried and broiled salamander eyes and dragonfly tea cakes smothered with roe that Neelix had rapturously provided.

 

Introductions proceeded all around, made easier by the fact that the Zeru had only one name. These tended also to be short, the ambassador's being atypical, containing somehow in their few syllables references to an individual's clan, family, and species subgroup that the Zeru seemed to comprehend instinctively but that to an outsider, Janeway suspected, would forever remain a mystery. She had met with Ambassador Bralohapia frequently during her stay on Zera. He was taller than the average Zeru male, with the pointed snout of his gender and long drooping whiskers styled into ringlets. She had found him easy to talk to, with a ready sense of humor that, not surprisingly, was not much in evidence just now. His iridescent scales were generally green, while those of his companions tended toward the blues and violets. The older of the two females accompanying him was Lassimar, a leading expert on Zeru reproductive biology and the Doctor's primary contact within the Zeru medical community. Zeru scales did not wrinkle as did human skin, but the slight uneven fading of color on her hands and face and short tail, the only portions of her body not covered by her robes, and the sparseness of her whiskers indicated her advanced age. The other two, a young male-female couple, were Menlin and Indyssa. They sat with tails intertwined and were both a little gray and fluttery about their vestigial gills, which Janeway knew to mean that they were very nervous. They had good reason to be. Menlin was the biological father of the child Ally Lang was carrying and Indyssa was his mate, and they were contemplating a very risky course of action.

 

The Doctor had informed her barely an hour before that Lang's condition had suddenly deteriorated; dangerously dehydrated and suffering continual vertigo, she was not responding to the treatment he had no longer had any choice but to begin. In order to save her life he was now forced to recommend termination of the pregnancy within the next few hours. From the start the various physicians had worked to identify the fathers of the hybrid children by comparing DNA from the fetuses with records in the Zeru medical database, a task complicated by the genetic similarities of the several species. All but the father of Golwat's child had now been identified and contacted by Zeru medical authorities, and Menlin, an artist, and Indyssa, a primary-school teacher, had asked to be kept informed of developments in Lang's pregnancy. Lang had consented, and when the Doctor had contacted them with his pessimistic update on her condition, they had immediately volunteered to be of whatever assistance they could. His only suggestion, given reluctantly, was a radical one: he proposed a transplant of Lang's fetus into a Zeru host, but with the condition that the new host-parent be female. True to the typical Zeru pattern the Voyager women had all conceived girls, and the Doctor and his Zeru colleagues thought it wise to try to mimic the natural progression of Zeru conception and pregnancy as closely as possible. Only rarely did males conceive female children and vice versa; such pregnancies did not often go full term and when they did carried a very high risk of birth defects. Indyssa had agreed, and the Doctor monitored the current discussion now from Sickbay via the EMH channel, unwilling to leave Lang for even a short time.

 

To the young couple, Janeway said, "I wanted to thank you personally for being willing to undergo this procedure aboard Voyager rather than in a more familiar environment on Zera; Lieutenant Lang is really too ill to travel. I also wanted to express my admiration for your courage for being willing to undergo the procedure at all. And I wanted to make sure--and please forgive me if I seem to be questioning your judgment; I assure you I'm not--that you aren't rushing into this decision. It's all been very sudden, and quite frankly yours is an attitude we haven't encountered elsewhere. Of the other biological fathers your health officials have contacted, two have reluctantly agreed to consider assuming custody of the children when they're born if it's determined that Zeru is a more beneficial environment for them than Voyager, though they do seem to be hoping that Voyager will have that honor. The--father--of the child I'm carrying, however, is decidedly negative and not very accommodating. He refuses to talk with me, with any representative from Voyager, and seems disconcerted by--in fact almost suspicious of--" she was making every effort to choose her words carefully, to avoid offense-- "the officials' assurances that we can tell which individuals are the fathers of these unusual children. I do believe he's rather hoping the whole problem simply--flies away. Can you--all of you--help me to understand these varying attitudes, and why they're so different from your own?" She touched Menlin's and Indyssa's knees with her fingertips, a gesture she knew to mean kind concern but also an invitation for complete candor in any response. "Physicians in our society swear a professional oath to first do no harm. I don't want us to be responsible for doing you harm."

 

"In our previous meetings, Captain," the Ambassador replied, "we had little reason to discuss our respective attitudes toward family, those being irrelevant to negotiations for supplies and equipment and so forth. I know you have been researching many of our cultural attitudes in recent days; forgive me if I now tell you things you have already discovered. As I know you are well aware--" The tip of his long, muscular tail flipped a little with wry amusement. "--with us conception is by no means accidental but it is certainly uncontrolled. No one ever knows who is the biological father or mother of the child he or she has conceived. We simply find ourselves pregnant after a swim and adjust our lives accordingly. Perhaps we are somewhat more flexible in this area than you are--?"

 

"Somewhat," Chakotay said with some chagrin, remembering with residual shame his own rather less philosophical attitude upon learning of the birth of Seska's child. "Then again, your gestation period is quite a bit shorter than ours--four months instead of nine--and as a society you don't necessarily expect that the person who bears the child should raise it. Which probably makes my next question moot, but I'll ask it anyway. Obviously you have DNA-recognition technology, and use it in other kinds of medical cases. Why not use it to determine parentage?"

 

"We do make extensive use of DNA technology in other areas," Dr. Lassimar confirmed. Her voice was soft and mellifluous, and she sat very straight, her short tail propped between her torso and the sofa back as something like a lumbar support. "But since conception for us has always been entirely random and separate from the family group, we haven't had the cultural pressure to determine biological maternity and paternity. Such issues have not historically existed in our society in the way they do in yours and so many others; we do not think of a child as 'mine' simply because our particular DNA is a part of it. In a sense we are all 'adopted,' as you call it."

 

"What about those who don't want to conceive? You must have a few people who aren't so--flexible. Is there a way to stop the reproductive secretions, or control them so they're predictable?"

 

"We have experimented with numerous drugs and procedures, but have yet to find one that isn't in some way harmful. Our only method to control conception is therefore simply to avoid public waters, but we tend to regard those who do so as, at best, social oddities--it is considered especially rude to refuse to swim when invited to do so at someone's home--and, at worst, as misanthropic in the extreme, valuing individual convenience above the public good. Everyone takes an interest in children in general, which is why there has been so much discussion in our philosophical and journalistic circles of your--our, if I may say so--predicament."

 

"You certainly may," Janeway said, "--this is definitely a shared predicament. Yes, we've been monitoring that discussion. So far it seems calm and rational, for which we are truly thankful."

 

"Then no doubt you've heard the point of view of a relatively new faction among us," said the Ambassador, "--the My Child movement. Its proponents believe that conception should not be random, that a mated couple or those who want to conceive together should swim only in private to ensure that any children that result are their own. They are distressed that so many Zeru children are raised in group homes, outside of a family unit of any kind--though I must point out that there is no evidence whatsoever that such an arrangement does any harm. I myself was raised in a group home, and have always looked back upon it as a positive experience. At any rate, members of the My Child movement avoid public swimming even though they risk social ostracism and professional difficulties by their choice, and the practice is gaining popularity, especially among our young people."

 

"It occurs to me that the random practice makes it easy for a single person to conceive if he or she doesn't have a particular partner in mind."

 

"It does," Lassimar replied. "And I think that some of us, perhaps most, will always prefer a method of reproduction that doesn't require such a great deal of planning. We are not very much a planning sort of people."

 

"And yet a number of our young people have pointed out," the Ambassador broke in, while Janeway tried to keep her eyes averted from the blob of--she didn't want to think about it--on the cracker he was waving about, "that if determined conception can be made more dependable an individual can conceive a child by a particular person much more easily. Only one swim would be necessary rather than continual contact over a long period of time. Quite a few radical ideas floating about--" his tail quivered with delight at his own witticism-- "these days. As with so many cultural movements on so many worlds, this one is led primarily by our young. As a group they tend to interact more regularly with other species, through their work on our station and also simply because they are more curious and open to change. They tend to travel offworld more frequently than those of us who grew up in earlier times when such opportunities were rare. Over the last two or three generations they have been greatly influenced by other cultural attitudes." His own slender fingertips brushed the knees of the young couple seated next to him. "Menlin and Indyssa are proponents of this movement. I have only just met them personally, but I know a number of their colleagues and I am confident that while their decision about this specific procedure is necessarily hasty, their attitudes about children and family are well and long considered, and that the specific decision is a natural extension of those sincerely held beliefs."

 

Neither Menlin nor Indyssa had spoken since the ambassador had introduced them, but not, evidently, due to shyness; they did not hesitate to take part in the conversation now that they had become the center of attention. "My only regret, Captain," said Menlin, "is that I cannot undergo the procedure myself. I don't like risking Indyssa--she is too generous--"

 

"We've discussed that until no one can add anything new," Indyssa stated flatly. "This is the only way if you want to save your child. I assure you, Captain, I have no wish to sacrifice myself to science." Janeway started a little, and felt Chakotay stir beside her. Clearly a lot of "discussions" had gone on among the Zeru that members of the Voyager crew would find familiar. "If there were no hope at all of success I would not offer. But your doctor and ours believe there is a chance to save the child without much risk to me--far less, probably, than to Lieutenant Lang if she should try to carry the child to term in her current condition."

 

"I never said--" Dr. Lassimar began just as the Doctor piped up from the EMH channel, "I must caution you again, Indyssa--do not underestimate the risk. The truth is we simply don't know."

 

"We most certainly do not," Lassimar echoed. "And therefore the risk to you can be assumed to be substantial." From the corner of her eye Janeway saw Chakotay's fingers begin a slow tapping against his thigh. If he says 'I told you so' later, I might have to shoot him.

 

"Call me an optimist, then," Indyssa retorted, and her mate looked resigned. "I know Menlin would rather do this himself, but the odds against this child are so extraordinarily high to begin with--it doesn't seem right to subject her to a process that even full Zeru children usually don't survive undamaged. I want to try this." As if sensing her support, she directed her next remarks to Janeway, perhaps unaware that in medical matters the captain did not have final authority. "Captain, Menlin and I have been trying to conceive for several years. We swim together at all the right times, but so far nothing has come of it. One reason conception has historically been a random process for Zeru is that we seem to find it difficult to create genetically compatible couples. Throwing multiple servings of all the ingredients into multiple pots seems to better the odds of conception, but even so, we have had many periods of sharply declining population. For seven females, in fact, to conceive in the same pond on the same day is simply unheard of--and I hope--" here an aside to Lassimar-- "that our doctors are prepared to study what they've learned from you with an aim toward increasing conception rates. In the meantime, this child, genetically Menlin's and physically mine, would be ours." Their tails knotted more tightly together. "That means a great deal to me, to us."

 

"Captain," the Doctor interjected from the screen on the table, "while I am as fascinated as anyone by the degree to which sexual practices affect social attitudes, I do have a patient in distress--"

 

The atmosphere of the room altered at once; people sat straighter, spoke faster, ignored the hors d'oeuvres. "Of course, Doctor, and I know you must be ready to get started." Everyone stood, and to Indyssa and Menlin she added, "Thank you for your assurances that you haven't felt coerced into this decision simply because of our--predicament."

 

"On the contrary," Indyssa said, "I am honored to take part, and glad to help when I feel that we as a species are in a way responsible."

 

"You aren't, of course--but in your place I'd probably feel the same way. I hope I would have your same courage."

 

Ambassador Bralohapia saluted her with a deep nod. "You have demonstrated amply that you do."

 

Janeway's tired smile was a demurral as she echoed her earlier comment to Chakotay. "We aren't volunteers, as you are."

 

"Perhaps not, but you could end your ordeal in a moment, and so you are courageous in choosing to see it through if you can. Many of us appreciate that--do not ever doubt it. For though as a culture we do not relate ourselves as individuals biologically with particular children, we nevertheless value children and indeed each child."

 

Janeway reached for Indyssa's and Menlin's hands and gripped hard. "I do hope you're able to save this one." She felt suddenly maternal, wanting desperately to give them a big hug. They're so young. Not long ago they were babies, too. Do their parents know what they're about to do? The room swam beyond the sting of tears--Oh no--

 

And then Chakotay was taking over, summoning Kim to escort the party to Sickbay, wishing them luck. His hand was a vise on her elbow, squeezing almost hard enough to hurt, snapping her back to herself as he stepped by her on his way to the door. "Good luck," she added softly as the door closed behind them, though she wasn't sure they'd heard.

 

"Thanks," she said rather shortly when Chakotay rejoined her, grateful for his help but irritated that she had needed it. He simply shrugged, and his easy disregard of her debt and understanding of her pique calmed her at once. "Those gills are very vestigial," she mused. "Maybe a hybrid child won't retain them after all."

 

"Having second thoughts about your bet?"

 

"Too bad I can't bet under an alias and cover all the bases."

 

"Sorry, only one to a customer." She was pacing with short, tense strides, not so dizzy now but still weaving a bit every few steps. Chakotay remained standing, ready to spring to catch her if she fell.

 

She brushed away new tears. "They're so generous, so willing to accept this child and take such a terrible chance to try to save her. What if the other Zeru parents decide not to take their children in? We haven't discussed what will happen to them then. Maybe I've been afraid to, especially considering the aversion demonstrated by the father of my child." Chakotay's eyes widened; she had not yet in his hearing referred to the hybrid as my child. "Whatever we do we'll be depriving them of one parent."

 

"Lots of Zeru children have only one parent. If the person who conceives doesn't happen to be mated, often friends share custody. And the children's group homes are very common and very nurturing--you've seen the reports yourself. I don't claim to understand that aspect of their culture, but clearly it works for them."

 

"So far. What if we leave these kids in a group home and then the parental movement really takes off?"

 

"Societies don't change overnight; it will take generations for any new practices to become commonplace. The children in group homes now won't know any different."

 

"But they could. Mine could. I could provide her a warm, loving home on Voyager. If I left her here I'd be depriving her of that." Her long-ago worries that she should probably apologize to little Naomi Wildman for the circumstances of her birth and upbringing had quickly faded away. "On the other hand, if she's genetically more compatible with the Zeru it would be safer for her to stay here. But on the third hand, what if she looks especially like one species but is genetically closer to the other? The Doctor can't even guess at the appearance of these children; he doesn't have a frame of reference to extrapolate from. Being different is hard enough on a child without looking different as well. Do we let appearance guide our decision on where her home should be?"

 

"I don't believe we can. We need to place these children where they'll have the best medical care, experimental though it will probably be."

 

"It would be experimental wherever they were. Maybe the question should be which culture would embrace a mixed-species child more completely."

 

"Very possibly Voyager," Chakotay said, "even if the kid does look like a lizard."

 

Janeway's quavering smile contained a healthy helping of gratitude for the frequently demented sense of humor that had prompted it. "But the likelihood of relevant medical advances is probably higher on Zera, and there would be no way for Zeru physicians to communicate their findings to the Doctor. There's also the possibility that the child will start out more human and then develop Zeru characteristics later, perhaps at puberty, and be stuck with us. Or it could happen the other way around, and I would never know, and always wonder. And what would happen if some of us think it's best to leave the children with the Zeru and some of us don't? Over time, as the rest watched the children on Voyager grow up, the guilt for those who made the other choice could be crippling. God, Chakotay, how can I even think of leaving her here--of abandoning her? And yet in a very real way she isn't even mine. I have no emotional connection to the father as Indyssa does, no connection of any kind . Surely it's normal to want to look at your child and see something of yourself, and if not yourself then someone you love. I won't have that, and I worry that I'd resent the burdens of childrearing if I couldn't see anything of myself in her."

 

"I wrestled with some of the same doubts when I thought I'd be raising Seska's child. I prayed he wouldn't look like her as he grew older. But in the end I realized it didn't matter, that the boy wasn't responsible for any of my troubles with his mother. You will have carried this child, given her life. She can't be any more yours than that."

 

At that her tears began to flow in earnest and she sank onto the sofa. "I just don't know what to do."

 

He sat down beside her. "I know that feeling, too. But let's wait and see what happens before we worry about it."

 

She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, then pounded the other hand into the sofa cushion and jumped up to resume pacing. "God, I hate this! Damn the Doctor--it's a wonder B'Elanna hasn't reprogrammed him again so he'll relent and pump us all full of happy juice. It isn't fair that I have to suffer all this angst when I didn't have anything to do with what's causing it. If I were Zeru I'd join a no-swimming club in a heartbeat, etiquette or no etiquette. At least the others have somebody in their lives who can help them adjust, help them care for a child. Who have I got?" She heard the self-pity in her voice and didn't like it, but couldn't summon the strength to make it go away. She looked over at the end table, remembering only belatedly that Mark's picture hadn't been there for years.

 

"Oh--you could probably find a few volunteers--"

 

"Kim to Janeway."

 

"Chakotay here. What is it, Lieutenant?"

 

"The captain wanted to know as soon as Culhane's away team returned."

 

"Anything urgent?"

 

"No sir."

 

"Then she'll be with you in a little while."

 

"Understood, sir. Kim out."

 

Kim's tone was, as usual these days, solicitous and affectionate. "He sounds so knowing," Janeway complained. "He doesn't have a clue what this is like! I really need to get some work done, but I can't think straight--"

 

That isn't the only thing he thinks he understands, Chakotay reflected, even as he soothed and calmed, doing exactly what Harry assumed he was doing. "Not everything needs your personal attention right this minute. Get some rest. At least have something to eat. The Doctor will contact us as soon as there's something to report."

 

"I'd be all right if I could only have some coffee. DAMN the Doctor! He won't even let me have decaf--there are other sinister compounds in the demon brew. Thank God for carob. At least I can have an approximation of a brownie--otherwise I'd be homicidal--"

 

"Have you tried chicory?"

 

"What the hell is chicory?"

 

"It's a root that can be roasted and ground and blended with coffee or used as a substitute. No caffeine."

 

He ordered a cup from the replicator--which seemed to require a moment's thought--while Janeway consulted a padd programmed by the Doctor with a list of foods and beverages that Must Not Pass Her Lips, most of which she'd never heard of. You can't accuse him of not being thorough. Chicory did not appear on the list, and so she accepted the cup Chakotay held out to her with a thrill of anticipation.  "Well, it ain't coffee, but it ain't bad. Kind of toasty caramel."

 

"Glad you like it. It's good for the liver, too. But don't overdo--it's also a diuretic."

 

"That's all right--I'm starting to retain fluids." She actually laughed a little, feeling almost relaxed. "Bet you never knew--or wanted to know--quite so much about the workings of your captain's body." Her eyes closed with pleasure as she sipped.

 

"Uh--no."

 

"Well, you've earned your holodeck rations for the week, Commander, and my undying gratitude."

 

"Anytime. So, shall I send Harry in?"

 

"He'd better take advantage while this mood lasts. How do I look?"

 

Her eyes and nose were red, her hair in disarray after a few combings with agitated fingers. "Beautiful," he said, casually--and then frowned, as if in surprise.

 

Her smile was startled but glowing. "Thanks again. Now I know why I keep you around."

 

He winked at her from the door. "Always glad to be useful, Captain. See you later."

 

 

 

 

"Sickbay to Captain Janeway."

 

Janeway had to take a couple of quick steps to reach her terminal, and immediately regretted the hasty movement because her back was aching ferociously, which was why she was pacing about the sitting room at three in the morning instead of sleeping as she'd been ordered to do. She issued a reminder to herself to keep her comm badge on her person, even if she had nothing to clip it to but her hair. "Yes, Doctor?"

 

"Captain, I regret to inform you--" he began, and she was suddenly terrified, "--that despite the early indications of success I previously reported, within the last hour the fetus was violently rejected by Indyssa's body and subsequently died." Somehow he managed to sound both dispassionate and heartbroken--or perhaps she was simply projecting her own grief. "Indyssa's vital signs became weak and erratic, and she began to hemorrhage--"

 

"Is she all right?" Please God let her be all right.

 

"Her condition is stable, and Dr. Lassimar feels that she will be able to return home within two or three days, though several days of rest beyond that would be a sensible precaution. She has been awake only briefly, but she is aware of what happened and seems resigned, as does Menlin. She is however possibly still at risk for depression, and will be under the care of Dr. Lassimar and a counselor as needed."

 

"She's welcome to stay aboard as long as she likes. Harry and B'Elanna have made sure there are suitable swimming programs available in the holodeck." --With Kim demanding hazard rations all the while for having to work so closely with Torres while setting them up. "And Lieutenant Lang?"

 

"Continuing to recover nicely. I will probably release her tomorrow."

 

"May I visit them?"

 

"They're both sleeping now. They should be awake and alert in the morning."

 

"I'll be there. Thank you, Doctor, for all your efforts, and please thank Dr. Lassimar as well."

 

"I will. Let me add that, as cold as it may sound, strictly in terms of data collected the procedure must be considered at least a partial success. There are numerous indications of a fundamental incompatibility at the cellular level between the hybrid child and normal Zeru physiology. Dr. Lassimar and I are agreed that we cannot recommend another transplant unless further tests reveal a new treatment strategy."

 

Janeway sank into her chair. "So we aren't going anywhere any time soon."

 

"Captain, I assure you my colleagues and I are devoting every waking hour to this problem, which in my case is every hour--"

 

"I know you are, Doctor. You've used more power in the last two weeks than you have in the last year. But fine-tuning your program is keeping Lieutenant Torres occupied, for which she and her family and staff are grateful."

 

"I'm pleased to be serving a higher purpose. And now, Captain, as your physician as well I will remind you that you need rest as much as my more immediate patients do. The next time I call with a report at this hour I hope to find you asleep."

 

"Dream on. Good night, Doctor."

 

"Good night, Captain. Sleep tight; don't let the bed bugs bite."

 

"Good night, Doctor," Janeway said, and hit the button.

 

She resumed her slow pacing, adding some gentle stretches here and there. How much was she going to hurt when the baby--so it's a baby now, not a fetus-- And suddenly she remembered saying to Chakotay earlier, "my child." My baby, my child. Something she had thought she would never be able to say. She ran her hand over the new firmness in her abdomen. My baby, my child. --when the baby actually had some weight she had to cart around? Maybe B'Elanna can invent an anti-grav for swollen bellies . . .

 

She hated to have the decision taken out of her hands, but at the same time she was relieved that it had been. She felt drained, having been on tenterhooks all day--would this procedure be the answer they'd been seeking? That it wasn't made her feel cast aside by the cosmos, but now they knew; they didn't have to wonder whether they were being overly cautious not to try. She envied the Doctor his dispassion. She didn't like not being in control of her own life, her own body. Of course pregnant women were always at the mercy of their bodies to some extent, but at least it was usually their own idea to get pregnant in the first place-- She tried to silence the Why me? whine she heard in her mental voice. Once upon a time she had wondered what might have happened on New Earth if--when?--she and Chakotay had become romantically or sexually involved, and then if the replicator had failed and they had to fall back on timing and temperature, hardly a foolproof method of birth control. If, if, if--no point in wondering now. Had this situation made him think of New Earth, too? No point in wondering that either. She hadn't thought about New Earth in years, and it had come to mind now only because of this absurd situation. When the absurd situation was behind them so would be thoughts of once upon a time. We'll leave the babies with the Zeru and that will be an end to it.

 

She went to bed, slept but little, and awoke in tears.

 

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