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Zetha hadn’t thought of that. They’d been following an erratic course through the Zone for just that reason, to make it difficult for anyone who might be tracking them to determine their point of origin or where they’d been before.

“It was Tuvok’s idea to stage a quarrel to distract Jarquin until we could locate you. The vase was the first thing that came to hand.”

“Fortunate for all of us that it did,” Selar suggested.

“Tuvok, how do you do it?” Sisko asked him during a quiet moment. The ship was on autopilot, and he was allowing himself some downtime to whip up a soufflé with the last of the vegetables from Tenjin.

The Vulcan was adding nutrients to the potting soil containing the orchid one drop at a time. “Do what?”

“Spend months or even years away from your family? Maybe it’s just thinking of all those dead on Quirinus, but all I want to do is rush home and be with my wife and son.”

Tuvok found the nutrient level to his satisfaction, set the orchid under its gro-light, and gave Sisko his complete attention.

“I submit, Mr. Sisko, that all you have wanted to do since we left Earth is return to your wife and son. However-” he said before Sisko could object. “To answer your question, it was necessary for me to leave Starfleet in order to start a family. Once I was confident my sons and my daughter were sufficiently mature not to require my guidance on a daily basis, I was free to return. As I understand it, you and your spouse have been fortunate enough to be assigned to the same ships for much of your career.”

“It’s true, I’ve been a little spoiled. This is the first time I’ve been away from Jennifer this long since Jake was born. Maybe if he were a little older I wouldn’t feel so bad, but…”

Uncertain what answer Sisko was looking for, Tuvok said, “It has been my experience that one of the most difficult, yet most essential, aspects of being a parent is knowing when to let go.”

For some reason Sisko found himself thinking of when Jake was a toddler and first learning to walk, how he’d gone from room to room making sure everything was safe. He’d put extra carpeting in the living area, cushioned the corners of every low table, and still followed the boy around with his hands outstretched, ready to grab him any time he seemed about to fall. It had been his own father who set him straight.

“You intend to be around to cushion his fall for the rest of his life?” Joseph Sisko had demanded. Ben had some leave time and had dropped in to New Orleans so that Jake could spend some time with his grandfather and vice versa. They were in the restaurant just before opening, setting the tables.

“I just don’t want him getting hurt,” Ben had answered, not taking his eyes off Jake, who was toddling from table to table, and from chair to chair around each table, rocking the chairs against the hardwood floor to hear their sound and laughing at his newfound skill as he went.

“And what’s that supposed to teach him?” Joseph wondered, smoothing out each tablecloth as they went.

Ben didn’t answer. Jake had gotten hold of the edge of one tablecloth and was starting to pull. “Be careful, Jake-O. Don’t do that; you’re going to fall-“

Just then he felt his father’s grip on his arm, hard.

“Let the boy go, Ben. How else is he going to learn?”

“But it’s a hardwood floor,” Ben started to say. “There’s no protection. If he-“

But Joseph refused to relieve his grip, and Jake kept pulling on the tablecloth until it slipped off the table, knocking him back on his well-diapered bottom. Jake seemed surprised for a moment, then giggled, pulled the tablecloth over his head, and crowed. “Peekaboo!”

“Peekaboo to you, too, young man,” Joseph said, letting go of Ben’s arm and retrieving the tablecloth. “Give that to Grandpa, now, and go on about your business.”

The boy clutched the rungs of the closest chair, pulled himself upright, and continued his exploration around the next table and the next. His father, whose every muscle had tightened when