Homecoming - Christie Golden [24]
“Give me a half hour,” said Torres.
“I will meet you at the holy site upon your arrival, “ said Logt. She pressed a button and the transmission ended.
“Wow,” said Tom. “That doesn’t give us very long to get ready.”
B’Elanna turned in her chair to look up at her husband and daughter. She extended a finger and ran it gently along the protruding ridges along Miral’s oh-so-Klingon forehead. She was so glad now that the Doctor had prevented her from changing a single thing. Her daughter was beautiful, perfect. A fierce tide of love swept through her, both for the infant and the man who had sired her.
“Thank you for coming with me,” she said. “I would have hated to have to leave you so soon.”
“Hey,” said Tom, gently, “you don’t get rid of this cute little bundle of responsibility that easily, you know. Or Miral either,” he added, jokingly.
She smiled, then sobered. “It could take a while,” she [68] said. “Who knows what kind of ritual they’ll make me do. They may not even let non-Klingons on the planet.”
“I’ve got nothing but free time until I’m reassigned, and all Miral has to do is grow and be healthy and loved. You just make sure we’ve got nice quarters on that ship and we’ll be fine.” He touched her cheek. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”
She knew he knew how much his words meant to her, and she felt a lump in her throat as she reached one hand out to her husband, the other to her sleeping child.
Chapter 6
JANEWAY STOOD LOOKING around at her austere, clean apartment. She was partly amused, partly despairing. This new place was waiting for her in San Francisco, courtesy of Starfleet Command. All the senior staff had been offered that option. Some had declined, others accepted. For the moment, Janeway had said yes, and was now doing her best to decorate it with the furniture and knickknacks her mother had recovered when she had been given up for lost. They had stayed in the attic in the house in Indiana, and now they looked rumpled and pitiful in the gleaming Starfleet-provided apartment. Janeway sighed. The banquet had run late—no one had wanted to leave, to really say good-bye—and she knew she ought to be getting to bed.
The door chimed. “Come,” she said, surprised—who [70] knew she was here, and who would call at this hour?—and turned to greet her first visitor.
The door hissed open, and Mark Johnson stood there.
For a moment, she didn’t breathe. “Hello, Kathryn,” he said gently. “I hope it was all right for me to come. I spoke with your mother and she seemed to think so.”
“Mark,” she said, recovering. “Yes, of course. It’s so good to see you.”
He held out his arms and she went to him. Even as she laid her head on his chest, she saw the light wink against the simple gold band on his left finger. She knew he’d gotten married, and oddly, she felt no pain at the thought. Only pleasure that he had found someone, again, to love. He was a good and gentle man, and deserved it.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” he said, his breath on her hair. They pulled apart, and Janeway saw that his eyes, too, were filled with tears.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, stepping away. “Can I make you some coffee?” she asked, and then had a brief moment of distress when she realized that she didn’t know where the replicator was in this new place.
“No, thanks. Hang on—I’ve got something of yours I need to return to you.”
While he was gone, Janeway took the opportunity to recover. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him. More correctly, she hadn’t let herself realize how much she had missed him. But now, seeing him after all this time, feeling him warm and strong against her—
“Stop it, Kathryn,” she told herself in a low voice. “No sense wasting energy on could-have-beens.” And yet, it was difficult.
[71] A dog’s bark shattered her thoughts and she turned. Sitting beside Mark in the front room, a little heavier than she remembered and graying around the muzzle,