chapter 15

 

 

Alison caught herself smoothing her hair for the second time and firmly put her hand into the pocket of her suit jacket. It was a nervous gesture left over from her teen years, and most likely made her look about that age now.

She stood alone in the lobby of the Foundation building, waiting for her guest. In a rather juvenile demonstration of power, the board officers had chosen to wait in the conference room, leaving her to escort Lynne Hamilton to their domain. She wondered if a single one of them had thought that just maybe, the way they treated Ms. Hamilton today might affect the way she treated them tomorrow.

The lobby was open to the ceiling fifteen floors above, where the light pouring in through the transparent aluminum panels made the interior nearly as bright as the outside. Potted plants grew all around the periphery, and a small waterfall burbled over a rock formation near the entrance. It was an imposing but attractive space, and normally Alison enjoyed the greenery and the soothing sound of falling water. Today she was barely aware of any of it; her attention was fixed on the group walking up the stairs toward the main doors.

She’d expected Captain Janeway to accompany Ms. Hamilton, of course, but not Commander Sandovhar and Seven of Nine. Nor had she expected the Captain to be out of uniform. It was a little odd, seeing her in a dark business suit, but in retrospect it made perfect sense that Janeway would remove any visible sign of Starfleet from these proceedings. Ms. Hamilton and the others were similarly dressed; if Alison hadn’t known who they were, she might have mistaken them for executives who worked in the area. Downtown Denver was full of people who looked like that.

Then again, maybe not, she thought as the sunlight glinted off metallic implants. A moment later the doors slid open, and she stepped forward.

“Good morning,” she said, extending her hand to Ms. Hamilton first. God, this woman was tall. “Welcome to the Hamilton Foundation headquarters.”

“Thank you, Dr. Necheyev.” Hamilton’s handshake was just as firm as it had been at the reception. “It’s good to see a familiar face. You’ve met Commander Sandovhar and Seven of Nine?”

Alison traded handshakes all around as she said, “Yes, I had the pleasure at the reception. I hope we’ll have the opportunity to speak more after the meeting. Depending on the outcome, of which I’m not in the slightest doubt, I thought you all might enjoy a tour of the building.”

“Yes, I think we would,” said Hamilton, looking around the lobby. “This is a hell of a design. Beautiful, but…” She craned her neck to see to the roof. “Clearly meant to make a statement.”

“You’re not supposed to notice that part,” said Alison with a smile. “You’re just supposed to be subliminally intimidated by it.” But Hamilton looked back at her without the faintest trace of an answering smile on her face, and Alison immediately got down to business. “I can order some refreshments for your guests if you’d like. The lobby is very comfortable; no one will disturb them while they wait. The meeting shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”

“My guests are not waiting in the lobby,” said Hamilton. “They’re accompanying me.”

Alison was caught flat-footed. “Ah…Ms. Hamilton—”

“I’m sure we’re not expected,” said Captain Janeway smoothly. “And we do apologize for the unexpected change to your plans. But given recent events, we feel it best not to leave Lynne alone.”

“Recent events?”

“Such as attempted murder,” said Commander Sandovhar.

“What?” Alison nearly dropped her teeth. “Mother of God! Was anyone hurt?”

“Not permanently,” Sandovhar said dryly. Seven of Nine gave her a sharp look.

“I suppose cardiac arrest is only a temporary medical issue,” she said. Meeting Alison’s eyes, she added, “Revi was injured by a blade carrying a dose of neurotoxin. She nearly died.”

“I see your aunt hasn’t mentioned it to you,” said Janeway.

Alison looked between them in horror. “No! When did this happen?”

“Last night. After we had secretly beamed aboard Voyager. Or at least we thought it was in secret.”

“Shit,” said Alison before she could stop herself. “Commander Sandovhar, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Somehow it seemed as if it was. “Did you get him?”

“It was a her,” said Janeway. “A Cardassian, probably from the old Obsidian Order. And no, she got away. She was very well prepared for her mission.”

Alison felt a chill. The Obsidian Order had been one of the most secretive intelligence agencies in both the Alpha and Beta quadrants, known for its absolute ruthlessness. It was wiped out after the Battle of the Omarian Nebula, leaving Cardassia in a power vacuum. When Cardassia joined forces with the Dominion two years later, the Intelligence Bureau rose from the Order’s ashes, but with an entirely different political force at its head. Consequently, a significant number of Order members were excluded from the ranks of the new Bureau and turned into political exiles. Alison had heard that some of them had reorganized into a mercenary force of spies and assassins for hire.

“If she was from the Obsidian Order,” she said slowly, “then she may not be the only assassin on the contract. They work in cells.”

“Yes, we’re aware of that,” said Janeway. “We had an extensive conversation with Admiral Necheyev last night; she filled us in on the more recent history.”

Alison turned to Ms. Hamilton. “We have to get you formally installed and your testament filed. The sooner the better.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Hamilton. “I’m getting tired of my friends paying the price for being my friends.”

“I thought we’d talked about this,” said Sandovhar.

“Clearly she has already forgotten.” Seven of Nine raised her eyebrow, an act that drew considerable attention to her optical implant.

“I haven’t forgotten. I’m just ready to end this.” Hamilton made an impatient gesture. “Shall we go?”

“By all means. If you’ll follow me, please.”

Hamilton nodded and fell into step beside her. Alison tried to appear calm, but her head was buzzing with the implications. It had happened. All this time she’d been able to rationalize that maybe the slipstream drive mousetrap hadn’t actually been intentional; maybe she and Aunt Alynna had simply been overcautious. There had been no proof, not even a scrap of evidence regarding the guilty intentions of any of her board officers. But it had happened; someone had actually attempted to kill Lynne Hamilton. There could no longer be any doubt that either Brian, Charles or Elise were willing to murder to preserve their power and income.

And all three of them were in the conference room right now, waiting. Alison felt a sudden chill, her neck tingling in the aftermath.

They made the trip to the fifteenth floor conference room in utter silence, broken only by Alison’s murmured “this way” as they exited the lift and walked down the corridor. Normally she appreciated the open feel of the corridors, with their floor-to-ceiling windows looking onto the lobby, but now she just felt exposed and vulnerable.

One of my employers is a killer. How am I supposed to act now? How can they all be so damned calm? Is this what Starfleet training does, make you so immune to fear of death that it doesn’t shake you when it comes so close? She glanced over at Hamilton, who was pacing beside her with a completely shuttered face. God, I forgot. She already died. What is there to fear when you’ve already done it once?

For some reason, that thought made her even more uncomfortable.

She stopped in front of the heavy wooden doors, touched the entry pad and led the way in. Brian, Charles and Elise were clustered at the head of the large conference table, watching the door as they entered. Her eyes darted from one face to the next, looking for any expression that might give the killer away, but so far as she could see they all just looked curious. Well, in Brian’s case, curious and irritated.

“Dr. Necheyev,” he said, rising from his chair. “We were not expecting additional guests.”

“These are my friends,” said Hamilton, before Alison could respond. “And they’ll be acting as my advisors for this meeting. Has everyone already met?”

Alison watched Brian’s bushy gray eyebrows contract, and wondered if Hamilton had actually planned that. Her question implied that the presence of the others was a foregone conclusion, and there was no way Brian could contradict the assumption without coming off badly.

“Yes, I believe we have,” he said, and came around the table with Elise and Charles behind him. Introductions were unnecessary, since they had indeed all met at the reception, but protocol had to be observed as handshakes were traded all around. Charles’ pleasure at seeing Captain Janeway again would have amused Alison at any other time, but now she wondered, as she watched him flash his winning smile, if he was the one trying to kill her wife.

The initial pleasantries over, Brian led the board officers back to their seats. Alison had already noticed a fourth water glass set out for her, right next to Elise, and the fifth sitting alone at the opposite end of the table. It was a cheap power play, made all the more glaringly ridiculous by the fact that there were now four people to seat rather than one. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hamilton register the glass and shoot a glance at Janeway, who gave a slight shake of her head. As if they’d planned it, the women split up, with Hamilton and Janeway seating themselves next to Alison, while Sandovhar and Seven of Nine took the seats across the table. The glass was left behind.

“Ms. Hamilton, I see no need for preambles or explanations,” said Brian. “I know Dr. Necheyev has explained our position to you, and your very presence here is a de facto claim on the legacy of the Hamilton trust.”

“That’s correct, and I agree,” said Hamilton.

“Good. Then let’s get down to business. If you are truly Lynne Hamilton, then you are in possession of knowledge that will enable you to answer a few questions that the founders provided as a litmus test. I have those questions here. If you—”

“Hold on,” interrupted Hamilton. “The founders, as you call them, are named John and Elizabeth Hamilton, and I’d like them to be recognized as people rather than some oblique historical figures. They’re my parents, and to my point of view I left them just two years ago. They’re still very much alive in my mind.”

Brian frowned. “Of course. Though you must realize that to our point of view, they lived a very long time ago.”

Hamilton inclined her head, but said nothing. Brian waited a beat, then continued, “If you answer the questions correctly, we will then conduct a DNA analysis, comparing your sample with one that the…that John and Elizabeth Hamilton preserved.”

“Why not just do the DNA analysis now?” asked Hamilton. “You seem to be a man who values his time; we could cut right through all of this.”

“The DNA analysis is additional evidence, not conclusive evidence. Preservation methods of the early twenty-first century were not up to today’s standards. We also have no way of knowing how the Hamiltons preserved the sample prior to establishing the Foundation and gaining access to the more expensive and reliable scientific methods.”

Hamilton looked across the table at Sandovhar, who said, “That’s true. There’s no question that a properly preserved DNA sample would be viable after three hundred and seventy-five years, but the key point is the manner in which it was maintained.”

“I’d give my parents credit for finding out what they needed to do,” said Hamilton. “But do go on. The questions should be interesting.”

“Very well.” Brian activated a PADD, cleared his throat, and said, “What is your middle name?”

“Delilah.”

“Where did it come from?”

“It was my grandmother’s name. My maternal grandmother,” she added, seeing Brian’s small frown. He nodded once.

“Who was your best friend?”

Hamilton smiled for the first time. “Janet Ruiz.”

“What was the name of your favorite teddy bear?”

The smile grew larger. “Snuffy.”

“Snuffy?” whispered Janeway.

“What was the first thing you ever climbed with a rope?”

Hamilton leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, the smile on her face breaking into an open grin. “My parents’ house. I threw a grappling hook over the roof and pretended I was Edmund Hillary on Everest.”

“And what was the result of this climb?”

“A trip to the emergency room for a broken elbow.” Alison heard a tiny snort from across the table, and Hamilton pinned her gaze on Commander Sandovhar. “Something funny?”

“Oh, no.” Sandovhar waved her hand. “Just good to know that you’ve been consistent your whole life. How did your parents survive your childhood?”

“With just as much grace as you’re surviving my adulthood.”

“If I may continue?” asked Brian, in a tone that said he was not asking at all.

“Please,” said Hamilton with a relaxed wave of her hand.

“Who won the 1989 World Series?”

To Alison’s surprise, Hamilton burst out laughing. “Oh, god,” she said, still chuckling, “a perfect question. Good job, Dad, I know that one was yours.”

“Could you answer the question, please.”

“I have no idea. Dad knew I hated baseball and he knew I wouldn’t be able to answer the question. Does he have anything in there about women’s beach volleyball?”

“In fact the next question is, when was women’s beach volleyball first played in the Olympics, which nation took home the gold medal, and who was your favorite member of its team?”

“Nineteen ninety-six, Brazil, and I thought Sandra Pires was hot.”

Alison thought she saw Brian’s expression relax just a little.

“In nineteen ninety-five, you attempted to break a climbing record on the Nose route of El Capitan. What did your mother give you for the climb, and what did she tell you to do with it?”

“She gave me a card and told me I wasn’t supposed to open it until I got to the top.”

“And what did the card say?”

Hamilton’s smile slipped. “It said…” She paused and took a deep breath. “It said that whether or not I broke the record didn’t matter, because she was proud of me regardless. She said that achieving goals was not necessarily the important thing; it’s the pursuit that matters. That was Mom’s life philosophy.”

Brian stared at the PADD, his silence elevating the tension in the room. Finally he raised his head and said, “Over three hundred and sixty years ago, Elizabeth Hamilton wrote a message to the person who could answer those questions correctly. Ms. Hamilton, this message is for you. She wrote, ‘I’m still proud of you.’”

Alison glanced at Hamilton and as quickly looked away again, giving the woman what privacy she could. It was Captain Janeway who said quietly, “It sounds as if you’re convinced of Lynne’s identity.”

“Yes, I am,” said Brian. “Of course we’ll still need the DNA analysis, but to my mind that is merely satisfying the requirements set out by Ms. Hamilton’s parents. Ms. Hamilton,” he added in a friendlier tone than Alison had ever heard from him, “with your permission I’ll call in our doctor and take that sample.”

“Sure.” Hamilton’s voice was strained.

Brian nodded and raised his comm unit. “Dr. Xereng, we’re ready for you now.”

The doctor had apparently been waiting in the break room next door, judging by the speed at which he arrived. “Good morning,” he said, resting a small medical kit at the end of the table. “Which of you am I testing?”

“That would be me,” said Hamilton, pushing her chair back. She walked to the end of the table and stood next to him as he took a device from the kit and attached a small, thin tube to the end of it.

“All right,” he said. “I’m going to take a sample from the inside of your cheek. It will be painless.”

“I know, I’ve done this before.”

“One moment please, Dr. Xereng.” Commander Sandovhar stood up and moved down to the end of the table. “May I?” she asked, holding out her hand. Xereng frowned at her in confusion.

“It’s a standard preservation tube,” he said.

“Yes, I know. And I’d like to see it.”

“I’m sorry, this is a delicate—”

“I’m a doctor,” she interrupted. “I won’t contaminate the opening.”

He looked at Brian, who said, “She’s a Starfleet medical officer. Go ahead.”

With a shrug, Xereng handed over the tool. Sandovhar pulled a medical tricorder from the pocket of her suit jacket, examined the tube, and handed it back. “Thank you,” she said, pocketing her tricorder.

“Is there a particular reason you needed to scan the tube, Doctor?” asked Brian.

Sandovhar turned to face him. “Yes, there is. If someone wanted to introduce a fast-acting poison into a Human body, this tool would be an efficient way of doing it.”

“Good heavens,” said Charles. “Why on Earth would anyone want to do that?”

“Probably for the same reason someone tried to kill Lynne last night,” said Janeway, and Alison watched intently as Charles’ jaw dropped.

“What?” he gasped. Elise made a similar sound of shock, and Brian’s eyes widened.

“I hope you’re exaggerating,” he said.

“A Cardassian assassin broke into my sleeping quarters armed with a phaser, at least two knives, and a neurotoxin,” said Hamilton. “So no, I don’t think we’re exaggerating.”

Alison was watching all of the officers as closely as she could, but there were simply no signs of any emotion other than shock, surprise and dismay. Someone is a very good actor, she thought.

“How is this possible?” demanded Brian. “No one knew about you! That information was under strict security.”

“Maybe it was, but the news got out anyway,” said Alison. “I heard gossip about it right here in this building within two weeks of your telling me. And I can assure you that information did not come from me.”

“Well it certainly didn’t come from me!” He glared at Charles and Elise. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“I didn’t say anything to anyone here!” said Charles. “I don’t even know anyone in this building other than Dr. Necheyev.”

“Don’t look at me!” Elise held up her hands. “I’m as much in the dark as the rest of you. The only people I told were Mother and Stephen, and they’re family so that hardly counts.”

“Adele wouldn’t have said anything,” said Charles.

Brian’s face darkened as he stared at Elise. “You told your mother and brother.”

“Yes, but—”

He dismissed her with a contemptuous look and turned on Charles. “And you told Adele.”

“Adele is my wife, for god’s sake. And your daughter!”

“Adele is not an officer!” thundered Brian. His furious glare swung back to Elise. “And neither are Melanie or Stephen. Stephen isn’t even on the board! What the hell were you thinking? What possessed you to share highly classified information?”

“And I suppose you didn’t breathe a word to Aunt Catarina!” said Elise in an accusing voice.

“No, I did not! I keep my promises, something I had assumed you would do as well. Do you recall your oath? You signed an oath upon accepting the duty of an officer of this board, to act in the best interests of the Foundation and to safeguard any proprietary information that you learned as a result of your position. I distinctly remember stating that the information regarding Ms. Hamilton was not to go beyond the three of us and Dr. Necheyev. Our CEO apparently remembered that instruction, so I know I wasn’t just talking to myself. I am sadly disappointed in both of you! This is grounds for dismissal from your positions, if not the board altogether! Do you realize you have endangered Ms. Hamilton’s life?”

The room was deadly quiet as he glared from one to the other, his face red with anger. Alison was shocked. In the seven years she’d worked at the Foundation she had never seen so much as a crack in Brian Hamilton’s professional attitude, but now it felt as if she’d stumbled into a family argument. The behavior of both Charles and Elise reinforced the impression; they were sitting back in their chairs with expressions of mingled sulkiness and guilt, neither one making eye contact with Brian.

He sighed. “Well, the damage is done. Now we need to focus on controlling it. Ms. Hamilton, you have my deepest, most sincere apology. Normally I would have waited until the DNA analysis was complete and the papers had been signed, but given the circumstances I am now putting the full resources of this Foundation at your disposal. You have no access to your trust until the legal process is complete, but the Foundation itself will fund any security needs you require until the assassin is found and apprehended.”

“Thank you. But the truth is we don’t have to find the assassin; she’ll find me. We just have to be ready for her next time.”

“And the assassin, though definitely the more immediate danger, is not the critical one,” added Janeway. “Someone hired her. Someone who will gain from Lynne’s death.”

“The most obvious beneficiaries are her trust fund managers,” said Seven of Nine in a remarkable display of tactlessness. Alison thought she saw a quick smile cross Sandovhar’s face, but her attention was distracted by Brian, who dropped his head into his hands, rubbed his face and looked up again with such an expression of weariness that she actually felt sorry for him.

“I know,” he said. “Dr. Xereng, please take your sample and complete that analysis with all possible speed.”

“Of course,” said the doctor. He had the sample taken and packed up in record time, his discomfort obvious. “I should have the results in an hour.”

“Thank you. Call me the moment your findings are complete.”

As the door closed behind the doctor, Hamilton made her way back to her seat. “What now?” she asked, settling into the chair.

“Now we wait,” said Brian. “When the DNA findings come in, we’ll start the legal paperwork process. In the meantime, would you like a tour?”

“Yes, I would. Dr. Necheyev has already offered.”

“Ah. In that case, Dr. Necheyev, I’ll contact you as soon as I hear from Dr. Xereng and we can reconvene here.”

Alison nodded and turned to Hamilton. “Since we have an hour to kill, I’ll take you on the non-executive tour.”

“How does that differ from the executive one?”

“I show you all the dark and dusty places.”

“That sounds interesting,” said Elise. “I’ve never seen that part of the tour. Do you mind if I tag along?”

The smile of acceptance Hamilton had been giving Alison instantly dropped from her face. She leaned forward to look past Alison and said, “Actually I do. Sorry to be rude, but at the moment the list of Foundation people I can trust holds exactly one name.”

Glancing at Elise, Alison caught a fleeting expression of dismay, followed swiftly by studied indifference. “I suppose that’s true. Well, Dr. Necheyev, it looks like once again you’re the face of the Foundation.”

“Not for long,” said Alison, rather impolitically. With that she stood and ushered her new employer out the door.

 

 

 

 

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chapter 16

 

 

Kathryn had long known the size and scope of the Hamilton Foundation’s operation, but seeing it in action drove the truth home more readily than any amount of prior research. This place was vast, with over three thousand employees all engaged in the business of handing out Hamilton funding and checking on the progress of previously funded research. The granting department alone had seventy staff members screening and evaluating applications.

“In any given funding cycle, we receive in the neighborhood of one thousand applications from all over the Federation,” said Alison, leading the group into yet another glassed hallway with a view of the lobby. “Our grant officers are some of the best minds in astrophysics, temporal mechanics, warp propulsion—”

“Temporal mechanics?” interrupted Kathryn.

“If we can control time, we can control space travel in a whole different way.” Alison smiled at her. It was an expression Kathryn had yet to get used to. With her blond hair, light brown eyes and pronounced Slavic cheekbones, Alison Necheyev looked very much like a slightly taller version of her aunt. But Admiral Necheyev never smiled like that. “But then you know that, Captain,” Alison continued. “I understand you have quite a reputation for getting tangled up in temporal paradoxes.”

A reputation not generally known outside the admiral level of Starfleet, thought Kathryn. It was clear that Alison and her aunt talked about more than just their lunch order. “Not from any desire on my part, believe me,” she said. “Temporal paradoxes give me a headache.”

“Paradoxes of any kind give me a headache,” said Lynne. “I have a question. If the people in your granting department—”

“Your granting department, Ms. Hamilton. You need to start thinking like the head of the Foundation, not a visitor on tour.”

The expression that ghosted across Lynne’s face telegraphed exactly how she felt about that, but she said only, “Okay, my granting department. At any rate, why are these people here if they’re some of the best minds in their field? Why aren’t they heading their own labs, doing the work instead of funding others to do it?”

“In some cases, because they’re retired from active research. We have a lot of emeritus professors here who like to keep their oar in the academic waters, so to speak. They see cutting edge concepts here that the rest of the scientific world won’t see until publication. In other cases, people come here because they’ve been in the grind of funding their labs and fighting for recognition and they just don’t want that lifestyle anymore. And some of our officers are fresh out of their own advanced degrees; they haven’t even worked in a lab yet. They don’t have the experience of the older officers, but at times that very lack helps them see things that the others don’t.”

“I imagine you have a high turnover rate of those young officers,” said Revi.

“You’re right, we do. They tend to see projects that capture their interest while they’re here. Sometimes their time with us serves to focus their own broader interests in a way that their academic years could not. I don’t let the ratio of young officers get too high, because they’re often a losing investment in terms of training. But I also feel that the Foundation is at its heart a service-oriented entity, and giving young scientific minds a springboard is a service well worth offering.”

“And who makes those kinds of decisions, you or the Board?” asked Lynne.

“Me. The Board concerns itself more with the bottom line and the recruitment of donors. How we arrive to that bottom line is my call. Unless, of course, I screw it up.”

“You recruit donors?” asked Seven. “To what purpose? I believed the Foundation operated with the largest trust in the Federation.”

“We do. But we also fund some of the most expensive research in the Federation. The more we bring in, the more we can send out. Hello, Matthew,” she said to the middle-aged man sitting at the vast desk they were now passing.

“Dr. Necheyev, you have messages from—”

“Put them in my file pile,” she said without pausing. “I don’t have time right now.” She led them through a door into an expansive corner office with two walls of transparent aluminum, offering a breathtaking view to the west. “My office,” she said, waving them toward the comfortable chairs surrounding the rich wooden conference table. “Can I get anyone a drink?”

“Coffee would be lovely,” said Kathryn, choosing a chair facing the windows.

“For four, then?”

“Gods, no. Tea for two of us, please,” said Revi as she and Seven sat down. “Earl Grey for me.”

“I prefer a Vulcan blend if you have it programmed,” said Seven.

“Of course. Ms. Hamilton?”

Lynne had gone to the windows and was staring at the snow-capped mountains visible in the distance. She made no response to Alison, not even when the question was repeated. Kathryn was just rising from her chair when Alison crossed the floor and laid a hand on Lynne’s arm. “Ms. Hamilton?”

“Hm? Oh…sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you’d like something to drink.”

“Sure. Can I get a hot chocolate?”

“Of course.” Alison nodded and made her way to the replicator, while Lynne returned her attention to the view. Kathryn quietly went to stand beside her.

“Comfort food?” she asked softly.

“God, look at them. They’re so beautiful.” Lynne met her eyes. “I need to get out there, Kathryn. I can’t take much more of this.”

“I know. We’ll go as soon as we’re done here. That’s a promise. Just hold on a little while longer.”

“Story of our lives, isn’t it? We’re always just holding on. I look forward to getting past that someday.”

“It will get easier.”

“Sure.” But Lynne’s expression said otherwise. Before Kathryn could say anything else, Alison brought their drinks back to the table.

“Ms. Hamilton, Captain Janeway, if you’d like to have a seat?”

With one last look between them, they turned away from the view and went to collect their drinks.

 

 

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The genetic scan was positive, as everyone knew it would be, and a tedious round of paperwork took up the better part of an hour. By prior arrangement with Lynne, Alison checked each document and explained it in layperson’s terms before Lynne signed. A Hamilton employee with a notary license stood by, witnessing the thumbprint signatures and recording the documents in her PADD. When it was all over, Lynne handed the PADD with the legal files to Charles, who smiled and said, “That’s it, then. Give our lawyers a few days to process and register all of these, and the Federation bureaucracy some time to establish your identity in the database, and you’ll be ready to start your new life. In the meantime, welcome to the family.”

“Why would it take days to process legal documents that have already been drawn up and signed?” asked Seven.

“It’s normal, Ms. Nine,” said Alison. Seven frowned.

“You may call me Seven. And that is extremely inefficient.”

“I completely agree,” said Elise. “Anything to do with lawyers and bureaucrats is bound to be a testament to inefficiency. But we’re stuck with the system all the same.”

“If your lawyers and bureaucrats ran Starfleet you would never have beaten the Borg.”

“It’s all right, Seven,” said Lynne. “Dr. Necheyev already warned me about this. We’ll just have to…hold on for a few more days.”

Brian was watching them, his shaggy gray brows bunched together. “I would suggest that you return to Starfleet Headquarters and remain there until your legal identity has been established. You’re vulnerable until then.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“But we still need a means of contacting you,” said Charles. “To let you know when this process is complete.”

Lynne glanced at Alison. “Dr. Necheyev will know our whereabouts. Any message to us can go through her.”

Though Kathryn knew this was news to Alison, the woman covered her surprise well enough that none of the others seemed to notice.

“Good enough,” said Brian. “We have nothing further to discuss regarding your position with the Foundation, at least not until the lawyers have had their day. In the meantime, please refer any security needs you may have to Dr. Necheyev. Doctor, you have the full authority of this Board to finance any such needs for Ms. Hamilton; her safety is currently the highest priority of this institution.”

“Of course,” said Alison.

“Then there is only one thing left.” Brian reached into an archival case on the table and pulled out a PADD. “This is the PADD you left with your parents, Ms. Hamilton. The officers of this Board and Dr. Necheyev have all viewed your message, and I’m sorry for that necessary intrusion on your privacy. But there is a series of files which we have not viewed. They require a password; one which your parents said you would know. They instructed that you should be given the PADD and the password hint, which is…” He pressed a button on the PADD, glanced at the screen, and finished, “…what is it that drove you to climb?”

He rose, and with a scrape of chairs everyone else rose with him. Everyone except Lynne, who sat unmoving in her chair, staring at the PADD in Brian’s hand.

“It was a pleasure to meet you at last,” he said, walking to her and holding out the PADD. She took it silently, holding it as if she were afraid it might shatter in her grasp. After a few seconds she finally realized he was waiting to shake her hand.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely, taking his hand as she looked around at the others. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone now.”

There was an awkward silence before everyone began moving toward the door. Revi and Seven came around the table to give Lynne a quick hug and, in Revi’s case, an encouraging smile. Seven leaned down and whispered, “We’ll wait as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” said Lynne. “It might be awhile.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Revi. She squeezed Lynne’s shoulder again and followed Seven to the door, shutting it quietly behind them.

Kathryn hung back, unsure as to whether she was included in the request, but Lynne didn’t even seem to notice. Her attention was fixed on the PADD’s dark screen, and finally Kathryn asked, “Do you want me to go, too?”

Lynne looked up with wide eyes. “God, no. Sit down. Please.”

Kathryn sat, watching Lynne stare at the PADD. The silence in the room was immense, growing heavier by the second, and still Lynne made no move to activate the files.

At last Kathryn could bear it no longer. “Do you know the password?”

Lynne nodded. “We had a joke in our family. Mom said I was born with Rocky Mountain spotted fever, and the only cure was to go back to the mountains. She said she could always tell when it had been too long between doses.”

Kathryn had never heard of the disease, and had no idea if it was real or not. But now wasn’t the time to ask. She scooted her chair closer to Lynne’s and reached out for her free hand. Lynne clutched it convulsively, squeezing hard before taking a deep breath and letting go.

“Here goes,” she said, and punched in the words Rocky Mountain spotted fever. Her finger shook as she held it over the final key. “Part of me doesn’t want to do this,” she whispered. “It’s going to break my heart.”

“I know,” Kathryn whispered back.

With a slight shake of her head, Lynne sent the password.

The PADD activated immediately, showing a middle-aged man and woman sitting close together, looking quizzically out of the screen. Kathryn would have recognized Elizabeth Hamilton anywhere; she had bequeathed her looks directly to her daughter. The main difference was her pure silver hair and a slightly more rounded face, but the bone structure, the nose, and the full lips were clearly the same.

The large, powerfully built man beside her bore far less visible resemblance to his daughter, save for his startling green eyes. At the moment those eyes were squinting at the screen, one eyebrow raised in an achingly familiar expression.

“Is it working?” asked Elizabeth.

“Yeah. See that light?” He pointed toward the PADD, then leaned back and put his arm around her. “You ready?”

“Not really.” But she smiled and said, “Hello, Lynne.”

Beside her, John Hamilton nodded. “Hey squirt.”

Lynne covered her mouth, the tears already welling in her eyes.

“You might have known that your parents wouldn’t do what you asked them to, wouldn’t you?” he continued.

“Well, I wanted to,” said Elizabeth. “I thought we should respect your wishes. But your father had other ideas.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to respect your wishes,” he said. “But I figured, if you could leave us a message, why couldn’t we leave you one? Because I don’t doubt for a minute that captain of yours will get you home. We’ve never seen you fall like that for anyone.”

“Never,” agreed Elizabeth. “Nor have I ever seen you look so happy. Love sits very well on you.”

“And you wouldn’t fall like that for someone who wasn’t worth it,” he added. “So that means you’re coming back to Earth someday. And we want this to be waiting for you.”

“Not that we’ve figured out the logistics just yet,” she said.

He smiled at her. “But we will.”

Well, I know where she gets her determination, thought Kathryn. Clearly John Hamilton was a force to be reckoned with.

“We wanted to thank you,” said Elizabeth. “For making sure we knew you were okay. I can’t even tell you what that meant to us. Your message got here five days after you vanished, and the day after the search was called off. There was a big storm moving in over Denali and they just couldn’t keep the search and rescue teams out there any longer. At that point—”

“What?” Lynne stopped the playback. “Five days? Fuck!” She looked at Kathryn. “I told the lawyer to ship the package the day I vanished off Denali! It should have gotten there the next fucking day! Bastards! They couldn’t even handle a simple thing like ‘mail this package on this date’? My parents thought I was dead!”

“Then you did the right thing with your message, didn’t you?”

Lynne froze in mid-rant, then relaxed. “Yeah,” she said in a wondering tone. “I guess I did.” She turned back to the PADD and resumed the playback.

“—we knew you were dead. Not even you could survive Denali in a storm with no gear. That was…” Elizabeth hesitated. “It was a difficult time. But then I got a mysterious package in the mail. A very heavy mysterious package,” she added with a smile. “Phil had to bring it in for me. Remember Phil, the mailman?”

Lynne nodded, completely absorbed.

“You can probably imagine how confused I was to see a box of gold bars in my kitchen. But then there was a letter on top, in your handwriting…and then there was this.” She gestured toward the PADD.

“I came home and found your mother sitting at the table looking like she’d seen a ghost,” said John. “She’d been sitting there for an hour.”

“I watched your message over and over again,” Elizabeth admitted. “I couldn’t get enough. I thought maybe if I saw it enough times it would sink in.”

“That was a hell of a story you told,” said John. “If I’d heard that from anyone else I would have told them to go to rehab. But you’re our daughter.”

“Well, the fifty pounds of gold and the twenty-fourth-century electronics were fairly good supporting evidence,” she said, and he smiled.

“True. You really do know how to make an impression, squirt. By the way, just so you know, your investment advice has been spot on so far. The market crash was incredible. All those dotcom millionaires, selling their homes for less than the mortgage.” He shook his head. “I bought the stocks you told us to, but I have to admit I’d never have chosen any of them on my own. I mean…Apple? I couldn’t believe they’d make any money. And then they came out with those iPod things last fall, and my lord the stock jumped.”

“It’s July 24, 2002, by the way,” said Elizabeth. “The anniversary of the day we lived again. We decided to record a message for you every year on this date, so you can see how we’re doing. If you get these someday, then you’ll understand this is as much for us as it is for you. We know you’re okay, but it’s not the same as having you here. I miss talking to you. I—” Her voice broke, but she managed a tremulous smile and finished, “I just miss you so much. I’d give anything to hear your voice again. Sometimes I swear I see you out of the corner of my eye, sitting on the kitchen counter like you always used to when you dropped by. It’s like your ghost is still here.”

John squeezed her shoulder and said, “But you gave us a priceless gift. Priceless. Knowing you’re okay makes all the difference. It’s like part of you is still here, you know? I check the stock pages now and I feel like you’re with me. I can practically hear you saying, ‘No, Dad, I’m serious. It’ll work.’ And it does, too.”

“It does make all the difference,” Elizabeth agreed. “You know what the most difficult part of this has been? Pretending to mourn you. You wouldn’t believe the response, Lynne. Besides our own family and friends, we had your climbing friends ringing us up for months. They’d wander in from whatever corner of the Earth they’d been in, and hear about you, and then we’d get a phone call or a visitor on our doorstep. And everyone was so kind and supportive—god, our freezer was ready to burst with all the food people brought. We had enough casseroles to feed an army. And all the time I wanted to shout at them, ‘She’s not dead!’ I want to tell them what you’ve done, and how proud we are of you, and what a miracle you are…but I can’t.”

“You left us too soon,” said John. “But I’d say that even if you were eighty and I was a hundred and one. There is no possible time when I could have let you go without it hurting. But I know you’re happy, and that’s all I need. So if you’re watching this, I want you to do just one thing for me and your mother. Stay happy. Don’t worry about us. We’re fine.”

Elizabeth nodded. “It was our job to raise you to the point where you could fly on your own. You did that years ago. Every day since then, every visit you made, was just icing on the cake. So many of my friends have such…difficult relationships with their children. Sometimes downright adversarial. We never had that with you—”

“Well, other than your teen years,” said John with a broad grin.

“Let’s not discuss those times.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

“Hey, should we tell her that we knew all along she was smoking pot?”

“Oh my god,” said Lynne out loud.

Elizabeth laughed, almost as if she’d heard her daughter’s reaction. “Actually, I think the better question would be whether she knew her parents smoked it too.”

“Oh my god!” Lynne exclaimed in a shocked voice. “They did?”

John was chuckling as well. “Maybe we should tell her one secret every year.”

“I don’t think we have enough, John. That would only get us through, oh, ten or fifteen messages.”

“Ten or fifteen!” Lynne leaned back in her chair. “Jesus!”

John rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Well, then we could start in on the extended family secrets. I’ll bet she never knew about her Aunt Lila’s polyandry.”

“Oh, stop, you’ll get her all worked up.” Elizabeth looked back at the PADD. “Your Aunt Lila never had her first marriage annulled. It was a big family secret. So your father and I used to tease her about being a bigamist—”

“And she’d just laugh and say life was too short to have only one man on call.” John chuckled again. “Did I pick the right sister or what?”

They went on from there, talking about family events, catching Lynne up on her friends’ lives, and acting for all the world as if they were simply making a long-distance communication. After another ten minutes they wound down again, with John worrying aloud about how much storage capacity the PADD might have.

“If I’m reading this thing right, we’ve got plenty of space and battery power, or whatever you call a power source in the twenty-fourth century,” he said. “But you forgot to leave the instruction manual, so I can’t be sure. At any rate, we’re hoping to have many more chats with you. This felt great.”

“It did, didn’t it?” Elizabeth smiled at him. “Like old times. Because I can imagine her response to everything we said.”

“I bet she’s still reeling over the marijuana thing.”

“Oh, she’ll never get over that one.” They both laughed again.

“We have to go,” said John a moment later. “Don’t you ever forget that we love you.”

“Very, very much,” said Elizabeth, her earlier mirth fading instantly into the sort of pressed-lips expression of a person trying not to cry. “You have been all that we could ever have wanted. So don’t feel bad about doing what you had to do.”

“And keep your Kathryn happy, too,” John added. “Sounds like she deserves it almost as much as you do.”

“And tell her thank you from us. For saving you, and taking such good care of you.”

“Goodbye, Lynne. See you next year.”

“I love you,” Elizabeth said again, her eyes welling up just as John reached toward the PADD. The screen went dark.

Kathryn looked at Lynne, who was staring at the silent PADD. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with a sniff.

“God,” she said. “I didn’t know what to expect, but it sure wasn’t that.” She smiled tremulously. “Can you believe those two?”

“Well, knowing you the way I do, and knowing that they’re your parents…yes.” Kathryn put a careful arm around Lynne’s shoulders and tugged her close for a kiss on the cheek. “And I wish you could tell them from me that they’re very welcome, and it has been my greatest pleasure.”

Lynne carefully put the PADD on the table and folded her hands in her lap.

“Not going to watch any more?”

“I can’t. Not here; not now. I think I’m going to have to parcel these out to myself. It’s…too much.”

“I understand.”

They sat together in silence, broken by a chuckle as Lynne said, “My parents smoked pot! I cannot believe it.”

“And they knew precisely how you’d react, too.”

“Yeah. They knew me pretty well.” Lynne’s smile faded, her face crumpled, and Kathryn wrapped her in her arms as the storm broke. She’d been waiting for it, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“How can it still hurt so much?” Lynne’s voice was muffled in Kathryn’s shoulder, her body shaking as she cried. “It’s been two years and it feels like two days!”

“Because you still love them,” Kathryn said, holding her as best she could given the restrictions imposed by their chairs. “Because you were lucky enough to be loved like that. If it didn’t hurt, what would that say about you? About them?”

Lynne lifted her head, the tears streaming down her face. She wiped them away, sniffed again, and visibly got control of herself. “What a fucking moronic system,” she said, wiping away more tears. “If you love it hurts one way, and if you don’t it hurts another.”

“But if you love you have joy, and if you don’t…” Kathryn shrugged. “You have contentment, maybe. But not joy. I’ve never been a parent, so I can’t speak to what your parents are feeling, but speaking for myself—I’d rather have had the joy of loving you, no matter how much it hurt me, than to have lived my whole life the way I was living it before you came.”

“Me too.” Lynne looked at her with eyes made brilliant by her tears. “I just wish I’d never had to choose.”

“I know.”

Lynne’s gaze dropped to the PADD again, and Kathryn could see another wave approaching. “Come here,” she said, standing up and pushing her chair out of the way. Lynne stood as well, coming into her arms and immediately breaking down again. This time it was worse, and Kathryn couldn’t help her own tears. The raw pain pouring out of Lynne was hurting her heart.

“God, I miss them,” Lynne gasped.

Kathryn could only wrap her more tightly, rocking her as she stroked the back of her head. “I think you always will,” she whispered.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 17

 

 

“Were there any problems?”

Alison looked at her aunt’s image on the viewscreen and wondered how she could possibly look so fresh after the day she must have had. “No, everything went just fine. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt in anyone’s mind that Lynne Hamilton is the real thing. So we’re over that hurdle. Now it’s just a matter of waiting until the documents are filed and her identity is formally established. I’ve got her will sitting in the pipeline; as soon as she has her identity and the signature is valid, that will be filed as well.”

“And then you publicize it.”

“Yes.”

“I’m guessing she’s not pleased with that part of your plan.”

Alison took a sip of her vodka and set it back on the desk in front of the monitor. It had become tradition for them to share a drink during these video conversations, and she found it rather comforting. “No, but she understands the necessity. In her case, publicity is safety.”

The Golden Gate Bridge sparkled behind Admiral Necheyev as she picked up her own drink. “Ironic. That woman is at the center of a storm, and yet I get the feeling that if she had her way, nobody on Earth would ever hear of her. She doesn’t care about the wealth or the power.”

“But everyone else does.” Alison thought about the way Hamilton had looked when she and Janeway had rejoined them in her office—lost and indescribably sad. “I think you were right when you said she only cares about a few things. And I think one of the things she cares most about is something she’ll never have.”

“Meaning?”

“The Foundation is all she has left of her parents. That’s why the rest of it doesn’t mean anything to her—it doesn’t make up for what she left behind.”

“No, I don’t imagine it would.”

They fell into a silence that wasn’t in the least awkward. By now they were comfortable enough with each other to find silence merely a pause, and not a hole in need of filling.

“Well,” said the Admiral at last, “I’m glad at least something went right today. I’m guessing you’re no further along in your investigation than you were before, or you would have mentioned it.”

Alison shook her head. “I watched them all like a hawk, but I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. They all seemed utterly shocked about the murder attempt—as was I, I might add. Someone didn’t see fit to give me advance warning of that one.”

“That’s because someone was dealing with the legal aftermath of that mess. That happened on Starfleet property, don’t forget. Which means the whole disaster is under our jurisdiction. Not to mention the fact that their location was supposed to be classified information.”

“Have you found anything out?”

Aunt Alynna sighed, running a hand through her hair and settling more comfortably onto her couch. “Nothing useful. Turns out the transporter operator at the Bloomington station talked to someone he thought was a reporter—we have a description of the man, but it’s not very exact. At any rate, we know he lied about his employer, because they have no record of him. He appeared at the station every day, asking about Captain Janeway, which attracted no attention at all since she’s one of the most visible faces in the Federation right now. And he managed to flatter the operator into telling him that Janeway and her friends had gone through the station and onto a Starfleet relay yesterday. It doesn’t take a warp theoretician to figure out that if Janeway and Hamilton went to a Starfleet relay, then they were coming here to San Francisco.”

“That doesn’t explain how they knew she was on Voyager.”

“No, that part is a little more problematic. Lieutenant Commander Skrellok thinks someone tapped into the relay records, which would be a hell of a feat. He’s checking the logs line by line right now, looking for signs of tampering. Hopefully that will give us some sort of lead, because otherwise we’re at a dead end. Even the blood that woman left on Voyager doesn’t help, because our treaty with the Cardassians doesn’t include biomedical data sharing.”

“Well, at least you know it wasn’t someone inside Starfleet selling them out.”

Her aunt’s expression hardened. “I won’t know that for sure until we have that Cardassian woman in custody. I don’t think she had help inside Starfleet, but we can’t afford to rule anything out.”

Alison drained the glass and held it in her hand, idly turning it in her fingers. “Has it occurred to you that we may never know who hired her? We only have five or six days until Ms. Hamilton’s identity is established and her will is filed; after that there’s no motive for killing her. The contract will be lifted, because whoever put it out won’t want to risk discovery. And then we’ll be left with practically no evidence and certainly no answers.”

“It’s occurred to me.” The sour look on her aunt’s face made it clear that this was not an outcome she could easily accept. “But better to have no answers and Lynne Hamilton alive than the opposite. Are they safely on their vacation?”

“Are they gone? Yes. Are they safe? I don’t know. They decided not to take any security. We could have had a full detail of private security ready by the end of day, but they felt they’d be more likely to stay anonymous if they went alone than if they were accompanied by guards, no matter how discreet they might be. And then there’s the issue involved in making their location known to more people. I pointed out that a security company that couldn’t keep a secret wouldn’t be in business for long, but Captain Janeway said she wasn’t even sure she could trust Starfleet, let alone a company she had no experience with. So I guess you and she are thinking alike. But they did agree to put a private team around Gretchen Janeway’s property. Did they tell you where they were going?”

“No. When Janeway talked to me from Voyager we couldn’t be sure our conversation was secure. You’re the only one who knows. So don’t talk to any friendly reporters.”

Alison smiled ruefully. “That’s a lesson I learned long before I made CEO.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 18

 

 

Seven dropped her skis on the snow and looked at them with trepidation. “You must be joking.”

“You’ll love it, Seven. Really.” Revi put down her own skis and chunked the poles into the snow. “There’s a definite learning curve, but once you get used to it—it’s like flying.”

“I have no desire to fly.”

“Besides, she’s going to be falling a lot more than flying in the beginning,” said Lynne cheerfully. She dropped one ski and held the other up, examining the binding. “These things have changed a bit in the last few hundred years.”

“I would hope so.” Kathryn had just emerged from the lodge with her own skis; she’d been the last to get fitted. “In your day you ran around on waxed bits of wood.”

“That was a little before my time, Kathryn. We’d actually progressed to fiberglas and titanium in my day.” Lynne poked at a small bulge in the binding. “What’s this?”

“The gyroscopic sensor,” said Revi.

“The what?”

“It senses sudden changes of angle and releases the binding when the angle goes beyond the programmed parameters.”

“So the skis pop off if you fall,” added Kathryn. “Usually before you hit the ground.”

“Ah.” Lynne nodded. “That makes sense. No more twisted ankles and broken legs from skis going the wrong way in a crash.”

“Precisely,” said Revi. “It amazes me that anyone ever skied without gyroscopic sensors. The potential for injury is completely unacceptable. And you people didn’t even have bone knitters! How could you get on skis knowing that if you fell you could spend the next eight weeks waiting for a fracture to heal?”

“That was part of the fun.” Lynne grinned at her. “The adrenaline rush of knowing that you were riding the ragged edge of disaster.”

“Unbelievable,” grumbled Revi. “How you people ever survived that century, I have no idea.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Revi. We had safety features too. Our bindings were spring loaded, so they’d pop off once a certain pressure was exceeded. Same concept, different solution.”

“That’s not much better. You had to actually fall before the spring released, right?”

“Well…yes.”

“So how often did people end up with torqued knee joints and broken bones anyway?”

“Ah…pretty often, actually.” Lynne turned to Kathryn. “So if I do a jump, the skis will still stay on, right? Because the angle won’t change enough.”

“Right. Freestyle skiers would just disable the sensors, or set them to a much higher tolerance. But you’re not doing any jumping today.”

“Oh, come on, Kath—”

“We are staying together today,” said Kathryn firmly. “Not all of us are expert skiers.”

Seven, who was already uncomfortably out of her element, felt even worse at this. “That’s not necessary,” she said. “There are easy courses for beginners, are there not? I’ll stay there, and you three can go do as you wish. It’s inefficient for all of you to adapt to my lack of skill.”

She felt Revi’s instant rejection of the suggestion, even as Lynne looked over with a clear expression of guilt.

“God, Seven, I’m an ass. I’m sorry. We are not going off and leaving you here. Besides, I love teaching new skiers, and I’m betting you’ll be a fast learner.”

Seven doubted this, but with Revi’s silent encouragement and both Lynne and Kathryn’s more vocal variety, she at least felt better about making the attempt. They trudged away from the lodge and found a quiet place to don their skis—a task completed quickly by Kathryn and Revi, a little slower by Lynne, who was unfamiliar with the modern bindings, and slowest of all by Seven, who was still questioning the sanity of this entire sport. Thanks to Revi, she understood the historical basis of skis, but what baffled her was why people would do this for recreation when there were far simpler and more comfortable ways to travel across snow.

“All right, here’s a quick briefing for the two of us who haven’t been on a modern ski slope before,” said Kathryn. She pointed at the silver and black badge on her jacket, which each of them had been given along with their replicated gear. “These are short-range commbadges, with the lodge acting as the central processor for signals. The four of us share a unique frequency, so we can talk amongst ourselves without being heard by other skiers. You activate it just the same way you would your normal commbadge. As a safety measure, the lodge picks up all commbadge frequencies, so if you need to call downslope just ask for the lodge.” She tapped her badge. “Lodge, this is a test of the commbadge system.”

“We hear you,” said a deep male voice. “Badge number 015834, Kathryn Bliss. Correct?”

“Correct. Thank you.”

“Lodge out.”

“Bliss?” Lynne was laughing. “You named us after our wedding planet?”

“Count your blessings,” said Revi. “She named Seven and me after Terellia.”

Kathryn spread her hands. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not good at thinking up false names. Next time you can try it.”

But Seven understood. “You chose names that represent places where each of us found joy.”

Revi and Lynne looked first at her, then at Kathryn.

“You are such a romantic,” said Lynne. “And I love you for it.”

“I love you too,” said Revi. “But not because you’re a romantic.”

Kathryn looked down, smiling, and Seven detected an increase in her facial epidermal temperature.

“You made her blush, Revi. Stop messing with my wife.”

“Can I help it if she embarrasses so easily?”

“All right, enough!” Kathryn waved them off. “Let me finish.”

“She thinks she’s still the captain,” said Revi in a stage whisper.

“That’s okay, let her,” Lynne whispered back. “It makes her happy.”

Seven was smiling as well, thoroughly enjoying their playful moods. The difference between today and yesterday was pronounced; all of them were far more relaxed this morning. In particular she could hardly believe the change in Lynne. To look at her now, one would never imagine how silent and withdrawn she’d been after the Foundation meeting. If skiing affected Seven’s chosen family this way, then she was willing to give it a chance.

“As I was saying,” said Kathryn firmly, “the commbadges are multipurpose. They also give us access to the transporter kiosks, and they serve as locators should any of us manage to break something despite the gyroscopic sensors. The medical crew will know exactly where you are if you call for assistance.”

“No kidding? Wow. That’s a huge improvement,” said Lynne. “Back in my day we just laid in the snow and moaned until someone could either find the ski patrol or else ski all the way back to the lodge.”

Revi snorted. “Oh yes, those were the good old days. No doubt you moaned quite a bit since you were breaking bones right and left.”

“Have some faith. I never broke a bone skiing. Ever.”

Revi raised her eyebrows.

“I didn’t!”

“Lynne Hamilton, I’m your doctor. I know how many healed fractures you have.”

“But you don’t know how I got them.”

“I don’t think I want to, either.”

“If I may continue?” said Kathryn in an unmistakable voice of command. Both Lynne and Revi looked up, startled.

“She’s being the captain again,” whispered Revi.

“And enjoying it,” Lynne whispered back.

Kathryn took two sidesteps in her skis and shoved Lynne in the chest. Taken completely by surprise, Lynne lost her balance, her arms pinwheeling until she went over on her back. The skis quietly detached and remained atop the snow, while their owner was nearly invisible in the soft powder.

“Oh, you will so pay for that,” said Lynne from her prone position.

Kathryn began chuckling, and was soon laughing outright as Lynne ineffectually tried to get up. The powder was so deep that every time she put her hands down for support, they simply sank into the snow.

“And now she laughs,” said Lynne, but she was smiling too. “Seven, will you hand me my poles?”

Seven plucked the poles out of the snow, where they had been standing half a meter out of Lynne’s reach. “Is this my first lesson in skiing?” she asked. “How to get up after a fall?”

“Might as well be. Watch and learn—poles are your friends.” Lynne pulled herself into a crouch and used her poles to lever herself upright, then made a great show of shrugging off her pack and slapping the snow off it. “If my hot chocolate gets cold, you’re in even more trouble,” she warned Kathryn as she put the pack on again.

“I’m worried,” said Kathryn. Lynne raised an eyebrow before turning back to Seven.

“After you’re up, make sure you knock the snow off the bottom of your boots before you step into the bindings,” she said, tapping her boot with a pole. “Otherwise you won’t get a good seal, if you even get in at all.” She stepped into one binding, then used her pole for balance as she tapped the other boot. “And make sure that when you get up, your skis are perpendicular to the angle of the slope. Also, it’s best to dig in this side edge a bit once you get on the first ski. That helps keep you from slipping around while you’re trying to get into the second one.”

Absorbed in the lesson, Seven was startled when Lynne suddenly pushed off with her poles, sliding on her single ski right into Kathryn, who was equally surprised and had no time to defend herself. Both women went down in a pile of arms and legs as snow flew into the air. Seven heard laughter, followed by a plea: “No, no! Not down the collar! Nooooooo!”

Kathryn’s voice rose to a pitch that neither Seven nor Revi had ever heard before. They looked at each other, with Seven feeling quite alarmed until she understood from Revi’s thoughts what was happening. For her part, Revi dissolved into laughter, putting her hands on her knees and bending over.

“Oh, gods!” she gasped. “I never knew her voice could go that high!”

Lynne sat up in the snow and looked over at Seven. “Lesson number two, Seven: how to avenge yourself against a wife who suddenly betrays you.”

Kathryn popped up next to her, frantically brushing snow out of the back of her jacket collar. “You bitch! I can’t believe you did that.”

“You know you deserved it.”

“Seven,” said Kathryn, “if you learn anything from this lesson, let it be that it’s always good to show compassion to your partner. Because if you don’t, you spend the rest of your ski vacation looking over your shoulder.”

With that she plunked a handful of snow on top of Lynne’s head, instantly precipitating another wrestling match. Seven watched with wide eyes as the two of them thrashed in the snow.

: When does the actual skiing begin? :

Revi grinned at her. : When they’ve blown off enough steam. :

: And when will that be? :

Crossing her arms over her chest, Revi answered, : How much steam do they have to blow off? :

Seven sighed. It was going to be a long wait.

 

 

-----

 

 

Lynne had been right; Seven fell more than she flew that first day. Accustomed to much more rapid progress, she found the experience utterly frustrating, but the other three repeatedly assured her that she was learning very rapidly, and she knew from Revi that they were sincere. If this was rapid learning, however, she had no idea how anyone tolerated a more normal pace of acquiring this skill. Where was the enjoyment in continually struggling for balance, skiing at a careful, painfully slow pace, only to eventually fall over anyway? Especially when every fall required extraordinary efforts to rise again.

Then came the moment when she achieved a full run without falling, and suddenly she understood why people did this for recreation. After that she sent Lynne and Kathryn off to ski the expert routes, though it took some time to persuade them to go, and focused on improving her skills with Revi’s assistance.

The second day they started out together once again, but Seven was skiing well enough on the beginner slope that they soon moved to a different run with a slightly higher difficulty rating. Lynne informed Seven that she’d never seen a quicker study. “Borg reflexes do have their advantages,” she said.

“It’s not just her reflexes,” said Revi. “You should hear what’s going on in her mind. She’s cataloging every single run—the angles she’s tried with knees, skis, elbows—everything. And she’s taking all of those results and building a spatial understanding. It’s really quite amazing.”

“Isn’t that what everyone does?” asked Seven.

Kathryn smiled. “Yes, but not consciously, and over a much longer time period. Not everyone has your mental abilities.”

“Actually I would like to hear that,” said Lynne. “Do you mind if I link in on your next run, Seven?”

“I never mind when you link in.”

It was exhilarating, skiing with both Revi and Lynne present in her mind. They stayed close, skiing beside and behind her, and she felt an indescribable comfort in her tiny collective. When Lynne didn’t pull out of the link at the end of the run, Seven had a sudden hope that perhaps her friend had finally found enough ease in their link to simply leave it open. But two hours later Lynne asked Revi to tune out her frequency, and Seven couldn’t compartmentalize her dismay.

Lynne caught the thought and looked at her sympathetically. : I know. It is getting easier, and I do enjoy it—you know that. But I just can’t do it on a permanent basis the way you two do. It’s…tiring. I’m sorry. :

: Don’t apologize; there is no fault. There is only my selfish wish. :

: Actually, Seven, I think you’re one of the most unselfish people I’ve ever known. : She nodded at Revi, vanishing from their link a moment later. Sidestepping over, she gave Seven a kiss on the cheek. “And you’re an amazing skier,” she added. “It’s a pleasure to watch you improving.”

“That’s for damn sure,” said Revi. “She’ll be challenging you on the expert runs in a week.”

“Too bad we’re not staying that long.”

“You’re exaggerating,” said Seven. “But I appreciate the compliment.”

As before, Kathryn and Lynne headed for a different part of the mountain after lunch, while Revi and Seven continued to ski together. At the end of the day they reconvened at the lodge, enjoying a sumptuous meal and hot showers, regrettably in that order. Given Kathryn’s fame of the moment, it seemed most prudent for her to appear in public only in ski gear, which made an excellent disguise due to its ubiquity. If she were recognized and her location made public, it would not take their assassin long to guess where Lynne was. But in her bulky sweater and ski pants, with her hair under a cap that she refused to take off despite the relative warmth in the lodge, she remained anonymous. The general voluminousness of ski gear aided Seven and Revi as well: though their faces were not on every Fedcomm unit as Kathryn’s was, their Borg implants would have attracted attention had they not been kept covered. Both of them wore headbands to hide most of their optical implants, and kept a thin glove on their left hands—or, in Revi’s case, her clamp. The gloves were designed to mimic skin, and Revi’s was in the shape of a hand. In the crowd of skiers who were still wearing most of their gear, all three of them went unnoticed. And in the event that someone might be scanning their group with something more perceptive than just their eyes, the Borg bands made sure that Lynne, Seven and Revi appeared fully Human to any scans. Kathryn had been checking them with her own tricorder every day since they’d disembarked from Voyager.

At the end of the evening they retired to their separate rooms, and for Seven the best part of the day was yet to come. She showered first in order to facilitate her favorite moment, and was already watching from the bed when Revi emerged from the bathroom, clean and naked with her hair slicked back.

Revi leaned against the bathroom doorway and smiled at her. : Anyone would think you’d never seen me naked before. :

: No, but I haven’t seen it enough to tire of the sight yet. : Seven returned her smile. : But what’s even more compelling is how relaxed you are. It makes you even lovelier. :

Revi pushed off the doorway and came to join her in bed. : I know what you mean, because I’ve been watching the same transformation in Lynne. She’s a new woman. :

: Kathryn always said that mountains did something magic for her. :

: I gave up on magic a long time ago. : Revi looked at her thoughtfully. : I’ve had to revise my opinion since then. :

: A Borg who believes in magic. Does that alone not prove its existence? :

: Aren’t there two Borg in this room who believe in magic? :

Seven happily settled back against the pillows, watching the fine play of expressions on a face she loved more than anything in the universe. Not for the first time, it occurred to her that the fact of her capacity to love was evidence enough to answer Revi’s playful question.

: I believe. :

 

 

-----

 

 

Lynne flopped onto the bed with a gusty sigh. “Every muscle in my body hurts.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? If you wouldn’t insist on doing the most difficult runs on the mountain, maybe you wouldn’t be so sore. Your body isn’t used to skiing anymore.”

“And that is so unfair. Why is it that I can be in shape for climbing and Vulcan martial arts, but the minute I do something else, I feel like a slug? I think there should be a rule. If you’re in shape for anything, you’re in shape for everything.”

“It does sound like a good rule,” Kathryn agreed. She looked down at Lynne’s sprawled, apparently boneless body and felt her heart swell. These last two days had done wonders for her wife, and in her mind she’d already decided that they had to live somewhere in this area. It wasn’t just mountains in general, she’d realized—it was these mountains, the ones Lynne had grown up with. The day before, when they’d left Seven and Revi and gone to the highest transport kiosk, Lynne had stood on a bare knoll with her and pointed out every single peak by name. She talked about their climbing routes, the flowers that would be coming into bloom in another three months, and the way the succession of plant species chased the melting snow up the peaks. In between ski runs, she heard a bird call and recognized the species without even seeing it. The comfort of familiarity had breathed new life into her, and before Kathryn’s eyes she had transformed into someone entirely different, exuding a bone-deep, relaxed confidence and a sense of belonging that looked very good on her. After two years Kathryn had thought she knew her wife through and through, but these last two days had taught her otherwise. Of course, in hindsight it seemed obvious: she’d never seen Lynne on her own turf. Now that she had, there was no doubt in her mind that this was where Lynne needed to be.

She dropped a kiss onto Lynne’s lips and just as quickly backed away as arms came around her. “Uh uh,” she said. “You may be clean, but I’m not.”

“You don’t have to be clean just to kiss me.” Lynne put on her best come-hither smile, and Kathryn found it difficult to resist—especially in combination with the warm, newly-showered body that went with it.

“But if I kiss you I might not want to stop. And if that happens, I’d rather more parts of me be clean than just my teeth.”

“Okay, fine.” Lynne sighed theatrically. “But if I’m asleep when you get out, don’t complain.”

“If you’re asleep, I might just take advantage of you anyway.” Kathryn cocked an eyebrow at her and turned for the bathroom, enjoying the look on Lynne’s face.

The hot shower felt fantastic on her own sore muscles. She’d have given a lot for a turn in one of the lodge’s hot tubs, but in their situation it just wasn’t possible. Far too public and far too little camouflaging clothing. But that thought did give her an idea for a future vacation with Lynne, and images of naked skin and steam rising from water left her in a rather tingly state when she stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry. She braced herself for disappointment; Lynne hadn’t exactly been a sexual powerhouse lately. She’d been too stressed in the days leading up to the Foundation meeting, much too stressed the day it had happened, and far too tired last night after her first full day of skiing in more than two years.

Sure enough, when she opened the bathroom door Lynne was sound asleep, lying on her back with her mouth partly open. Kathryn shook her head ruefully as she crossed over to Lynne’s side and pulled the covers up, kissing her gently on the temple before walking around to her own side and sliding in. She was just leaning over to turn out the light when a strong arm pulled her backwards, startling a small squeak out of her.

A very much awake Lynne smiled down at her. “That was a cute sound. Can you do it again?”

“No! Why were you pretending?”

“Because I knew you were expecting me to be too tired again, and I wanted to surprise you. I’m not tired, Kathryn. And you look…edible.”

Lynne pinned her wrists over her head and zeroed in on the sensitive part of her throat, using just the right amount of pressure in her nuzzling to start Kathryn squirming. When she moved up to an ear and none-too-gently bit the lobe, Kathryn gasped with the force of her body’s instant response. Lynne hadn’t been aggressive in their lovemaking for quite some time—since well before the battle at Terellia, in fact.

“I see the mountains have been good for you in more ways than I’d realized.” Her voice was already raspy.

Lynne moved down to her jaw and worked her way back up to the other ear. “In every way. I have everything I could ever want,” she breathed, her lips mere millimeters away. Kathryn shivered at the sound of her voice so close, so intimate. “I’m home, really home, and you’re here too. And when it comes down to it, there really isn’t anything else.”

She nibbled a line down Kathryn’s throat and circled one breast, deliberately avoiding the nipple. Kathryn realized how tense her body was and forced herself to relax, knowing that Lynne would take her own sweet time. A moment later, when Lynne sucked the nipple into her mouth, she lost her capacity for ordered thought. Had she assumed Lynne would go slow tonight? It appeared she’d miscalculated.

Lynne sat up and pushed Kathryn’s hands under the pillow. “Keep them there,” she said. “If you move them, everything stops.”

“Are you sure?” Kathryn couldn’t resist. “I don’t think you could stop everything.”

Lynne raised an eyebrow at the teasing challenge, then reached down and pinched a nipple just hard enough to get Kathryn’s full attention. “Oh, I’d take care of myself,” she said. “And you’d just have to watch. You could take care of yourself, too, but you wouldn’t get me involved in it. So if you want me to finish what I’m starting here, then you need to lose the attitude and do what I say.”

The force of the pinch increased briefly before releasing, leaving Kathryn breathing hard. “What attitude?” she said.

Lynne’s eyes narrowed as she captured the other nipple and pinched it harder than the first, pulling it outward at the same time. “Do I need to explain?”

Kathryn’s neck and back arched in an involuntary response to the pressure. Rarely was Lynne so aggressive so quickly, and it was beyond arousing. She knew her body was already primed and ready, but she also knew that in this mood, asking Lynne for anything was a guarantee of not getting it—at least, not until Lynne had decided she’d waited long enough.

“No,” she gasped. “I’m yours.”

It was a phrase that had come to acquire a special meaning at times like this, signifying trust and surrender, and the response was immediate. Her nipple was released, Lynne’s body covered hers, and a moment later she was lost in a passionate kiss that demanded everything. She desperately wanted her hands on Lynne’s back, and the desire combined with the inability to satisfy it sent her arousal even higher.

The kiss lasted longer than usual, ending with Lynne tugging Kathryn’s lower lip in her teeth before shifting position and putting her mouth right next to Kathryn’s ear.

“You are mine,” she whispered fiercely. “Don’t you ever forget it. Don’t you ever think that you’re not enough. Everything is changing for you and me, but that never will.”

She returned for another deep kiss, then shifted position and began working her way down one side of Kathryn’s torso and up the other, rubbing, kissing, biting and massaging; alternating between gentling Kathryn’s responses and firing her up again. Back and forth she went; up and down; venturing out along Kathryn’s arms and returning to her torso. But she never went near her breasts again, despite the fervent strength with which Kathryn was wishing for it.

At last the caresses ceased and a quiet order came. “Roll over, love.”

“I can’t. Not without moving my arms.”

Lynne chuckled. “Oh, very good. You can move your arms, but only to roll over. Put them back under the pillow when you’re through.”

Kathryn pulled her arms out and started to roll, but her body was so limp that it took two attempts to complete the maneuver. She flopped onto her stomach and pushed her arms back under the pillow, appreciating the change in position. This was more comfortable, and she drifted further into the lassitude of prolonged arousal.

“Close your eyes,” whispered Lynne. Kathryn complied; given her relaxed state it was an easy order to obey.

Now began a sweet torture that she’d experienced numerous times under Lynne’s hands. On one memorable occasion she’d returned the favor, in spades, but it remained Lynne’s particular specialty—she had the technique down to a science.

It started with a single fingernail running lightly down her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Then it lifted from the base of her spine and reappeared near her shoulder, touching just long enough to make Kathryn shiver. Once again it vanished, pausing for several seconds before touching down near her waist, in a spot that Lynne knew damn well was sensitive. Kathryn twitched and the touch ended, reappearing immediately on her spine and causing an involuntary arch of her back.

On and on it went, with Kathryn growing ever more sensitized, until the time arrived when her back was arching in mere anticipation of the touch. Her fists were clenched and any relaxation she’d felt earlier was long gone; this was a sensual agony that left her in a constant state of suspense, always waiting for the next touch and never knowing where or when it would be. Her entire body was thrumming with tension, resulting in an explosive reaction to each new touch. The stress built to the point where she was ready to plead for a rest, though she’d never done so before.

And then it stopped.

Kathryn waited, panting, desperately needing the break but not trusting it; knowing that the torture would start again soon. When soft lips brushed her spine she cried out, her back arching so violently that it almost hurt. The change in sensation from hard to soft had nearly undone her, and she could no longer keep silent.

“God! How much longer are you going to do this?”

The answer came with another brush of lips, wringing a second cry out of her. “Until you’re ready,” Lynne answered, her voice low and calm.

“Fuck! I’ve been ready since the first damn kiss!”

“Have you?”

Gentle fingers finally, finally touched her where she needed them most, and she clenched her teeth to keep herself from pleading for what she wanted so desperately.

“Wow,” said Lynne, and Kathryn could hear her smile. “You weren’t kidding.”

Even now she didn’t satisfy, instead taking an eternity to gently spread moisture on ultrasensitive areas, applying just enough pressure to have Kathryn writhing on the bed. At last she paused, slid her fingers down, and pushed them inside. The penetration was slow and steady, going all the way to the hilt, and Kathryn groaned at the exquisite sense of relief. “God, yes,” she whispered.

“You are unbelievably wet,” Lynne said, pulling her fingers out and thrusting in harder.

Kathryn knew that. It wasn’t just the ease of Lynne’s fingers moving inside her but the lack of total fullness that told her precisely how aroused she actually was. Normally Lynne used two fingers, but tonight it wasn’t enough.

“More,” she rasped. “I want more.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

She felt the fingers pull out and waited breathlessly for their return, gasping with pleasure when they re-entered. Finally she had what she needed, a perfect level of penetration—almost too much but not quite—and now it was just a matter of holding on for the ride.

Lynne went slow, gradually getting her accustomed to the extra dimension. Then she settled in, going deeper and faster, then slow again, alternating her speed and depth, never letting Kathryn anticipate the rhythm. She pushed Kathryn to the ragged edge and then, shockingly, pulled out altogether.

“What…” Kathryn couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Roll over,” Lynne said softly. “I want you on your back. Your arms are free.”

“Oh god.” She was reasonably sure that she couldn’t comply this time. “I can’t move.”

“Yes, you can.” Lynne offered no assistance, merely waiting while Kathryn gathered her wits and her strength. After half an eternity she finally managed to pull her arms from beneath the pillow, brace herself, and roll over. Having taxed her strength to the utmost, she was immediately limp again.

Lynne gently helped her spread her legs, and a moment later the fingers re-entered. This time, though, they were followed with the unbearably sweet touch of a tongue. Kathryn shivered, knowing that she was going to be given her release at last.

It didn’t take long; she was strung so highly already that the added stimulus had her clawing the sheets in what felt like mere seconds. She prayed silently for Lynne to keep going; she just couldn’t handle another false start. Almost as if she’d heard, Lynne abandoned all variation, finding the perfect speed and settling in for the final push. Kathryn felt her back bending into the bow shape that almost always preceded a powerful orgasm, hanging there for an agonizing minute as the pressure built higher and higher, until it finally released in a slow-motion burst that started in her legs and traveled up her body. The bow of her spine reversed itself and lifted her torso into the air, her body helpless in the grip of an orgasm that seemed to go on forever. At last it let her go and she fell back to the mattress with a gusty sigh, certain that she would never move again. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a powerful aftershock ripped through her, jerking her back into the air. Even though Lynne had ceased all movement, she was shaken by two or three more, finally coming to rest utterly depleted of energy.

Lynne stroked her stomach with a flat palm, calming her with the touch and giving Kathryn a few moments to recover before asking, “Are you ready?”

“No. But do it anyway.” She gritted her teeth as Lynne carefully pulled her fingers out. After her orgasm it always felt as if Lynne’s fingers were five centimeters longer, and they took forever to come out. When they finally slipped free she sighed in relief, able to fully relax at last.

Lynne crawled up next to her and encouraged her to roll over one more time, wrapping an arm around her back as Kathryn rested her head on a warm shoulder. She drifted in comfort and post-sexual lassitude, the soft touch of Lynne’s caresses on her back soothing her nearly to the point of sleep.

“You’re beautiful,” whispered Lynne.

Kathryn had no strength to respond except by snuggling in more closely. She listened to Lynne’s breathing, absorbed the touch of the hand on her back, and floated in utter peace until she came back to herself with a startling suddenness. Raising her head, she looked into smiling eyes and said, “We’re going skiing more often.”

Lynne laughed out loud. “Fine by me. You’ll never have to ask.”

“I didn’t think so. Whew, that was…amazing.”

“You were amazing. I couldn’t believe it when you asked for another finger.”

“Two just wasn’t enough this time.”

Lynne looked at her with a knowing smile. “I didn’t start with two.”

Kathryn stared. “But…”

“You were incredibly wet. I thought you could handle three, so that’s what I started with. I wanted you to really feel it.”

“That was four?”

The smile expanded into a full grin. “As I said, you were amazing.”

Kathryn dropped her head back down. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never done that before.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Of course you do. I’m just…I’m stunned.”

Squeezing her gently, Lynne said, “I was too. But I wasn’t about to ask any questions. I just figured you really liked skiing.”

Kathryn snorted, then dissolved into laughter. “Who knew?” she said. “If my sexual response depends on skiing, then we’re in trouble when I ship out again.”

“Which won’t be for a year at least, I hope. And no more seven-year missions.”

“I think I can almost guarantee that.”

“Good. Otherwise I won’t give Starfleet any funding.”

Kathryn raised her head again. “Well, well, well. I see the power is already going to your head.”

“Actually, it went to my hand first,” said Lynne, not quite managing to keep a straight face.

“God.” Kathryn tried not to laugh, but it was impossible. “Now you’re going to be insufferable.”

“Like you aren’t already. I think I have a ways to go to catch up with you.”

Kathryn gave that due consideration before nodding and saying, “True. I guess you’ll just have to practice.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 19

 

 

The third morning found them on the easier slopes once again, with Lynne, Kathryn and Revi all working together to help Seven improve. She found it most instructive to ski directly behind each of them in turn, watching the way their bodies moved and imitating what she saw. Revi and Kathryn skied in a similar style, which was quite different from the style Lynne employed. Seven theorized that this was a result of the women learning their skills at very different times, but when she brought the subject up, Lynne pointed out that she’d overlooked another factor: Revi and Kathryn were both shorter, and therefore moved differently simply as a matter of biomechanics.

With that in mind, it became clear that the person for Seven to imitate was Lynne, whose rangy body more closely approximated her own. So she and Lynne stayed together while Revi took a turn with Kathryn on the more difficult runs, and Seven had the added enjoyment of feeling Revi’s exhilaration as she plunged down a steep slope at high speeds.

“I look forward to feeling that for myself,” she told Lynne.

“You’ll get there. Not this trip, and not the next, but sooner than most people. Really, Seven, I’ve never seen anyone learn so fast. It’s a pleasure to teach you.”

“You’re an excellent teacher.”

Lynne smiled. “We’re a mutual admiration society is what we are. Actually, I think you’re ready to go up a notch. Want to try another slope?”

“Will it have fewer people than this one?”

“Last I saw, it did. Usually the numbers go down as the angle goes up.”

“Good,” said Seven firmly. “I find it…disconcerting to be around so many people who have no external awareness.” More than a few times she’d had to make abrupt directional changes to avoid a crash with another skier who apparently thought she or he was alone on the mountain. She supposed that it had at least helped to hone her skill.

“Yeah, that’s the worst thing about the bunny slopes.”

“The what?”

“Oh. Beginner slopes. And no, I don’t know why we called them bunny slopes,” she added, forestalling Seven’s next question. “But they’re full of idiots. And even people who aren’t idiots are often so focused on what they’re learning that they never lift their head and look around. That’s the nice thing about getting better—you leave those people behind.”

“One more reason to improve,” Seven decided.

They made their way to the nearest transporter kiosk, where Lynne named the run she wanted. The operator nodded as they stepped onto the platform, and a moment later they materialized upslope on a new run.

“That’s the biggest change in skiing since I was last here,” said Lynne as they sat on the outside bench and put on their skis. “No chairlifts. I’m kind of torn about that—the transporter kiosks are so much better environmentally, but…there was something so wonderful about sitting in a lift and going up the mountain. The views were amazing, and I’d always get this tingly feeling of anticipation as we went higher and higher—it was such a thrill.”

“Perhaps it was the tingly feeling of anticipation that you could fall off the lift and die,” said Seven pragmatically. Lynne had described the concept of chairlifts to the group on their first day, and Revi’s reaction was still strong in her mind.

“You’ve been around Revi too long.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Lynne stopped and looked at her, then shook her head with a smile. “You’re absolutely right.”

Their skis on and packs settled, they made their way to the edge of the run, where Lynne encompassed the view with an arm gesture. “So, what do you think? Are you ready?”

Seven looked down in some alarm. “I’m not certain.”

“It’s not as steep as it looks.”

“It’s a sixteen-degree slope. The last one was twelve. It looks precisely as steep as it is.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. It’s not as different as it looks. Yes, it’s steeper, but the skills you need for it are exactly the same ones I’ve been watching you use on the last slope. You’re ready for it. And if you fall—so what? You’ve done that before, too.”

Seven stared at the slope, imagining her run down it and picturing how it would be. The more she looked, the more she realized that only one variable would change, and that was speed. The turns would not need to be any tighter; the balance and technique she’d learned would be just the same. And there were only four skiers on the entire run; she had all the room she needed.

“Very well,” she decided, and pushed off the edge.

“Whoa! Seven!” Lynne’s shout of surprise was quickly behind her as she flew down the slope, gathering speed. The wind whistled in her ears as she leaned into her first turn, smiling at the ease with which her skis cut into the snow and changed her direction. She had just learned one more equation to fit into her mathematical understanding of this sport: greater velocity meant faster ski response time. She turned again, and wondered at what point that equation would top out. There had to be a velocity beyond which the ski response time either leveled out or actually decreased; at what velocity, or which angle of slope, did that happen? She made a mental note to ask Lynne.

A whoop sounded on her left, and a moment later Lynne appeared in her peripheral vision, skiing on a parallel course and matching her turns. “Yeah!” she shouted. “You’re doing great!”

Seven’s smile widened as she flew down the slope, executing one turn after another in her pursuit of skiing perfection. It was easily the most enjoyment she’d had so far on these slopes, and she now understood the attraction people felt for this sport.

Two hundred meters from the bottom of the run she learned yet another equation: greater velocity also meant a much greater sliding distance in a fall.

 

 

-----

 

 

They met Revi and Kathryn for a late picnic lunch atop a knoll near a transport kiosk, with a sweeping view to the northwest. The sky was blue, the air was still, and the thermal properties of the sun were so strong that all of them had taken off their jackets. As they ate their sandwiches, Lynne enthusiastically described Seven’s progress.

“Four perfect runs in a row! And really nice turns; looked like she’d been skiing for two years.”

“I felt it,” said Revi, smiling over at her. “I think we’ve made a convert.”

“I admit I prejudged the sport,” said Seven. “It is…fun.”

Kathryn laughed. “I remember when you thought ‘fun’ was inefficient.”

“From a Borg standpoint it is. But when applied to the purpose of reducing stress, it’s extremely efficient. My evidence sits before me.” She indicated all three of them.

“And you don’t think you’re included in this evidence?” asked Revi.

“I was not stressed.”

They smiled at each other, then at her.

“I wasn’t!” she insisted.

“Okay,” said Revi. “But you sure feel different in my mind than you did three days ago.”

“Three days ago I was worried about Lynne.”

Revi raised an eyebrow and bit into her sandwich. : You just made my point for me. :

Seven let out an exasperated breath as she reached for her cup of hot cocoa. “Sometimes there are disadvantages to an interlink,” she said.

“Sometimes there are advantages, too,” said Lynne. “For instance, you can’t put any bullshit over on your partner.” She winked and sipped her own hot cocoa.

“Good thing we don’t have one, then,” said Kathryn.

 

 

-----

 

 

After lunch Lynne decided she’d had enough practice to ‘tackle the monster,’ as she put it. Seven had already heard all about it: the most difficult run on the mountain and one that only a handful of skiers even attempted. A forty-three degree slope with chutes, edges and bowls, it was not officially a part of the resort and therefore not groomed or patrolled.

“I’m not sure I can watch,” said Revi.

“I can,” said Seven, who was suddenly quite curious. If a mere four-degree difference of slope angle had looked so much steeper, what would a difference of twenty-seven degrees look like?

“Well, you’re both welcome to come see,” said Lynne. “Kathryn, are you ready for it?”

“I’m ready.”

“You’re just as insane as she is,” said Revi. “Aren’t you supposed to be the voice of reason?”

Kathryn grinned at her. “I’m not the captain anymore, remember?”

But when they arrived at the top of the run and peered over, Seven was inclined to agree with Revi. This wasn’t a run, it was a cliff. She couldn’t imagine setting her skis on that.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” said Lynne happily. “Look at that—no tracks!”

“That’s because everyone else on this mountain has common sense,” Revi said.

“More fun for us, then.” Lynne shrugged her pack off, pulled out a water bottle and took a long drink.

“Why bother? You’re just going to pee that out when you terrify yourself,” said Revi, and Lynne choked with laughter, quickly pulling the bottle away and wiping her chin.

“Nice. You could have waited until I was done drinking.”

Revi crossed her arms over her chest but was unable to hide her smile. “No, I don’t think so.”

Seven had thought Lynne and Kathryn would start their run immediately, but apparently there was a great deal of preparation to be done first. Lynne pulled a pair of field glasses from her pack and scanned both the slope and the terrain to either side, explaining as she did so that she was checking for cracks in the snow and signs of prior avalanches. “The best sign of avalanche danger is other avalanches,” she said. “If any part of the snowpack is unstable, then all of it in that area is suspect, because it’s all connected.”

Having ruled that out, she and Kathryn traded the field glasses back and forth, studying the slope below and deciding in advance which lines they would take. Only when they had planned the entire route did they pack up and position themselves. Lynne would go first, and after giving her a 100-meter head start, Kathryn would follow.

Seven watched Lynne tap her gloved fists together twice before planting her poles hard and pushing herself over. She gained an astonishing amount of speed in mere seconds, doing jump turns in the steep, narrow chute at the top of the run before flying out the chute and starting a series of long, curving turns. Kathryn flashed over the edge then, following Lynne’s tracks down.

They looked like a trained team, spraying walls of snow with every turn, and when Lynne jumped an edge and landed far downslope without any discernible effort, Seven thought that there was a kind of beauty in the perfection of the movement.

: Don’t tell her I said so, but I think you’re right. :

Seven glanced at Revi, smiling, but her smile dropped as a flash caught her eye. Revi wheeled, searching for what Seven had seen, and a moment later they both found the source: sunlight reflecting off metal. Someone was on the western slope above the ski run. Seven adjusted her optical implant for the distance and felt a frisson of fear go down her spine when she made out three figures standing in the snow, with at least two phaser rifles among them—and both rifles were pointed toward the skiers.

Revi activated Lynne’s frequency and instantly shared the image they’d just seen, while Seven slapped her commbadge and shouted a warning to Kathryn. But they knew their friends had nowhere to go.

Lynne made a sudden diversion from her path, veering toward the assassins as a phaser bolt struck the snow behind her. Abruptly she changed direction again, throwing off a second shot, and headed straight down. She hit an edge and was airborne, an easy shot for a trained killer. But even as Seven and Revi waited in dread, she flipped backwards into a tight ball, her skis flying off in opposite directions. A third shot missed by a hair just before she dropped out of sight below the edge. Nor did she reappear, though her skis did, tumbling downhill on their own.

: Lynne! : It was a dual cry, an instinctive mental shout of horror; but Lynne was still with them, her thoughts as clear as always, even as her voice came through their commbadges.

“Kathryn! Keep going!”

If Kathryn heard she paid no attention, making straight for the edge Lynne had jumped and coming to a stop in an enormous spray of snow. Then she pushed off again, tipped over the edge and vanished.

 

 

-----

 

 

Kathryn was exulting in the speed of her descent and the joy of watching Lynne in front of her. She carved turn after turn, following the line she and Lynne had planned, and when the first jump came she let out a whoop of pure happiness as she soared through the air. Her landing was good and she was on to the next line, preparing herself for the upcoming chute that required a careful entrance.

Her commbadge came to life and she heard Seven shouting something, but with the wind in her ears she couldn’t make it out. Lynne veered abruptly to the right just as a phaser bolt lanced into the snow behind her, and in a heart-stopping moment Kathryn knew what Seven had been trying to tell her. Even as she changed her own line, chasing after Lynne, she saw her wife veer again, dodging another bolt, and jump an edge they’d never planned to jump, self-destructing in mid air as her skis went flying. A third shot sliced through the air, barely missing her falling body.

Kathryn was nearly petrified with fear, but a second later Lynne’s voice came over her commbadge. This time, perhaps because she was expecting it, she made out the words.

“Kathryn! Keep going!”

She ignored it, keeping her eyes fixed on the place where she’d last seen Lynne and rocketing toward it. Maybe the assassin would target her, maybe not, but she was not leaving Lynne behind.

As the jump approached she flipped her skis ninety degrees, twisted her body and slammed down on the edges, spraying snow in a wall higher than her head. When most of her speed was bled off she turned again, pushed off with her poles and went over. It was a huge risk; without her prior momentum she could land on a pile of rocks unless the jump was sheer enough. She didn’t care.

It wasn’t quite sheer, but the rocks were angled and covered with enough snow that she managed to skip off them and plunge into the deeper powder at their base. Stopping immediately, she looked around and saw the aftermath of the snow explosion that Lynne had made when she’d hit the bottom and rolled. Just above it was Lynne herself, lurching the last few steps to the base of the wall.

“Lynne!”

“I’m okay! Get up here!”

Kathryn crossed the snow separating them and side-stepped back up, popping her bindings as soon as she reached Lynne and flopping into the snow beside her. “Thank god you’re all right!”

They clung to each other for a bare moment before Lynne pushed her away again. “What the fuck did you think you were doing? You were a perfect target up there!”

“I’m not the one they’re after.”

“You—” Lynne stopped, blowing out an angry breath. “Goddammit. We’ll talk about this later; they’re already moving.” She yanked off her gloves, unzipped a pouch on her pack and pulled out a phaser, with Kathryn following suit.

“Where are they?” she asked.

“We can’t see them from here. Which is good, because they can’t see us either. But Revi says they’re moving downslope; we’ve only got a few minutes before we’re in range again. There are three of them on snowshoes. Seven thinks they’re Cardassians.”

“Three?”

Lynne gave her a humorless smile. “Yeah. I guess they pulled out all the stops this time. But they’re fucking with us in my mountains, and they don’t know shit about snow. They’re up there in a damned avalanche path, and we’re going pull the trigger.”

“I thought you said there wasn’t any avalanche danger!”

“There wasn’t—for us. Listen. They’re below a wind slab, which means there’s a whole slope of snow just waiting for a reason to come down on their heads. All it needs is a little weight to break it loose. So we’re going to drop a cornice on it.”

Kathryn understood. “We’re going to undercut the snow at the top of the ridge.”

“Right. We need to step out just far enough to see right there—” she pointed up at the rock wall beside them, giving Kathryn an idea of the angle— “and then you’ll see them, and a big lump of snow above them. Find the cornice above that lump and cut from the right side to the center. I’ll start from the left.”

“Got it.”

“I’ve called the lodge,” said Revi through their commbadges. “Help is on the way.”

“They won’t get here in time.” Lynne was already moving out from the wall.

“And they’ll be local law enforcement,” said Kathryn, staying right beside her. “They’re not exactly used to dealing with professional assassins.”

Lynne craned her neck out, then ducked back. “One more step,” she said. “They’re still moving; they won’t be expecting this. Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“On three. One…two…three.”

Together they took the final step out from their shelter. Lynne began firing immediately, having had the advantage of knowing precisely where to shoot. Kathryn followed the line of her phaser and saw the situation at a glance. Three figures high up on the western slope, hunching through the snow, and above them the lump Lynne had spoken of. It was enormous, starting well behind the figures and ending ahead of them; they’d have no chance of escape.

She targeted the overhang of snow at the ridgetop, cutting in to meet Lynne’s beam. She could have wished for a phaser rifle instead of a hand phaser, but their target was huge and they didn’t have to be precise. All they needed to do was hold the beam steady.

The Cardassians stopped moving and Kathryn knew they only had one or two seconds more before they were easy targets once again. Then the cornice broke loose and Lynne shouted, “Get back!”

They jumped upslope, back into the shelter of their wall, and listened to a series of sounds Kathryn had never heard before. A whumpf, a sharp crack, and then a rumble that grew into a frightening roar. It seemed to last for hours before abruptly shifting to a much quieter sshhhhhh of snow sliding over snow. Eventually even that slowed to a trickle, then a whisper, until finally all sound died away. The silence was deafening.

Kathryn looked over at Lynne, who was resting her head against the rock wall behind them, her eyes closed. Reaching out, she took Lynne’s cold hand in her own and gripped it tightly, watching as green eyes opened and met hers.

“They’re gone,” Lynne said. “I watched it through Revi and Seven. They never had a chance; the whole slab broke loose. It must have been like having a ten-story building drop on their heads.”

Kathryn squeezed her hand again, then tapped her commbadge. “Everyone all right up there?” she asked.

“Gods above, you scared us!” said Revi. “We’re fine, except for the cardiac arrythmia.”

“The assassins have been neutralized,” said Seven in a calmer voice. “But we don’t know if there are others. I suggest we leave at once.”

“I suggest,” said Lynne grimly, “that we make a beeline for Alison Necheyev’s house. I have a few questions to ask her.”

Kathryn stared at her, the realization making her feel suddenly ill. Alison Necheyev was the only person on Earth who’d known where they were.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 20

 

 

Only half of the distress call reached Gohat; it was cut off before Dukali could finish. His hands steady despite the sudden pounding of his heart, Gohat activated the transporter and evacuated the team, wondering what could possibly have made Dukali’s voice sound like that.

When the shattered bodies of his companions materialized, he stood stunned for a moment before racing from the control panel to the transporter platform. Dropping to his knees beside Dukali, who was closest, he pressed his fingers to the vein that ran along the base of the neck ridge. Nothing.

He rose, stepped over Dukali’s body and crouched next to Nivel, a choked sob breaking from him when he found no pulse there, either. But before he could get to Lira, she rolled her head and exhaled, a bubbling sound coming from her throat.

“Lira!” He was beside her in a moment, cradling her head in his hands. “What happened?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him blankly. “Don’t know. The mountain fell.”

“It fell? What do you mean?”

She sighed, a moist sound. “Dukali missed. She knew. She knew and she dodged him. Nivel missed too. And then we had—” A cough racked her body, a horrible wet cough that made his skin crawl. “We had no line of sight,” she finished weakly. “So we were moving down…she had nowhere to go…we couldn’t miss again. And then both of them came out and fired phasers, but not at us. Over our heads. And the mountain fell.”

“I don’t understand! How did she dodge you? And how can a mountain just fall?”

She shook her head slightly, then closed her eyes.

“Lira! Answer me!” Panic made his voice harsh, but she couldn’t hear him. He pressed his fingers against her neck ridge and felt the fading pulse. They had no access to a doctor; nothing but a basic medical kit aboard. There was nothing he could do. He held her hand, providing a Cardassian touch to keep her company as she crossed over, and waited with her. It didn’t take long.

As he moved about the ship, resolutely preparing their bodies for disposal, he racked his brain to understand what had gone wrong.

They’d known the day Hamilton left Denver where she was going, but a crowded ski lodge wasn’t a good place for a Cardassian to appear asking questions. They sent their Human contact there instead, and it had taken him a full day to acquire the commbadge numbers they needed. With that information in hand, they could track Hamilton’s location on the mountain thanks to the locator in her commbadge. For some reason, scanning for Borg components had not been effective; the Humans must have found some way to disguise them. The commbadge locator took care of that problem, but since they had no access to the resort’s tracking system, the locator data wasn’t exact enough for a beamout. But it was close enough for their purpose.

The second day was spent studying both the mountain’s topography and Hamilton’s movements; Dukali wanted no mistakes this time and was not about to authorize another attempt until they had planned it to the last detail. They acquired the snowshoes they needed to maneuver, and Dukali, Nivel and Lira had spent hours practicing with them on a remote part of the mountain well away from any skier activity. It had been very difficult. Cardassia was a hot planet with no snow, and none of them had much experience moving on such a slippery surface. Skis were out of the question; they had no time to learn and could not be stable enough on them for a shot. But snowshoes were very stable and far easier to get used to, and on the third day Dukali had pronounced them ready.

His guess had been right; Hamilton repeated her movements of the prior day and headed for the less-trafficked parts of the mountain by midday. In fact, after a prolonged stop near a transporter kiosk, her signal appeared at the top of a run that was completely devoid of other skiers. Gohat remembered how Dukali had thanked their victim for making it so easy, and they’d all laughed. This was far simpler than defeating security measures on a starship. They consulted their three-dimensional topographical map and found the perfect place for Gohat to beam the strike team: a high slope facing an open bowl that Hamilton would have to traverse. It would be a simple matter of picking her off while she was in the open; a quick and untraceable hit. The use of a high-energy phaser rifle would leave not even a molecule of evidence behind.

So what had happened?

Lira said the mountain had fallen on them. Hamilton and one of her companions had opened fire above their heads, and the mountain fell afterwards. And the entire strike team had been covered with snow when Gohat had beamed them back; almost as if they’d been buried.

He went to the computer, accessed the Federation database, narrowed the parameters to Earth and began a search on the keywords mountain, snow, fall, and death. Seconds after the results appeared, he was reading about a phenomenon called an avalanche. A little more research revealed that in ski resorts, patrollers intentionally caused avalanches in order to make the area safe for skiers.

The two Humans must have known what would happen. They’d made it happen. They’d caused an avalanche and buried his team. Not just his team—his friends, his only real companions since the destruction of the Obsidian Order. They were the only family he had left. And now they were gone, killed in one stroke by a woman who was supposed to be dead even now.

Walking slowly back to the transporter controls, he took one last look at the now-arranged bodies and then beamed them into space. The wide-dispersal beam would scatter their atoms, returning them to the components from which all existence came.

“Be one with all, my friends,” he whispered. “And know that I will make this right.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 21

 

 

The local police who plucked them off the mountain were more than a little skeptical of a story about Cardassian assassins, and insisted on taking them to their station to “straighten out the story,” as one of the officers put it. Kathryn had neither the time nor the patience for this, but she was a Starfleet officer and could not simply walk out on her legal obligations. So they went to the station and, with varying levels of patience—Lynne having none whatsoever—answered their questions. The revelation that they had the most famous captain in Starfleet sitting in their headquarters dramatically altered the officers’ attitudes, but protocol still had to be observed, and it was another three hours before the women could wrap up their statements and leave. In the meantime, police craft with sensors and onboard transporters had been dispatched to the avalanche site; they returned with two Cardassian phaser rifles, three snowshoes, a few scraps of clothing and no bodies. Clearly the assassins had been beamed out, but—judging by the scatter pattern of the evidence—not before the weight of the avalanche had impacted. It was highly unlikely any of them had survived.

By now the police were determined to be of as much assistance as they could, so the group returned to the lodge with a full and very visible escort. Officers stood by as the women gathered their bags and returned their gear, attracting no end of attention from bystanders. As the group made its way through the corridors to the exit, Kathryn heard the surprised comments about her identity and vocal curiosity regarding her companions. Their cover was well and thoroughly blown, and the attention they were drawing validated their earlier decision not to use a private security firm. Going anywhere in a crowd like this, regardless of whether the protectors were in uniform, simply drew too much attention.

Nevertheless, she was genuinely grateful for the police assistance and made sure they knew it. If there were any more Cardassians working this contract, she wanted as much protection around Lynne as possible until they could get off the mountain. Once they were gone, they could vanish into obscurity again. Which was precisely what she planned to do, despite the police chief’s offer to coordinate a security escort for them at their destination.

“Thank you for your kind offer,” she told him. “But if the reaction of the people at the lodge is any indication, we’re safer on our own for the time being.”

“Captain Janeway, please reconsider. Ms. Hamilton is the target of some very professional killers. Surely you would benefit from as much protection as possible.”

“At this point—”

“Excuse me, Chief, but this isn’t Captain Janeway’s decision,” interrupted Lynne. “It’s mine. And I’ve made it.” As he shook his head she added, “Exactly what could your officers have done to protect me on that ski run? Not a damn thing and you know it. Not unless you had snipers posted at the top of the run. And since you can’t possibly post snipers on top of every building and around every corner no matter where I go, it’s pointless. That kind of protection would only attract more attention than I need. In a few days it won’t be an issue anymore, and until then I don’t plan to make my every move behind a wall of people in uniform. So thanks for your offer, but the answer is no.”

Kathryn scrambled to compensate for Lynne’s less-than-tactful behavior, mollifying the Chief and then taking her wife aside for a furious exchange of whispers.

“These people are trying to help us. Do you think you could show just a little more diplomacy here?”

“No, I do not!” Lynne glared at her. “I’m the one getting shot at and for the last three hours everyone seems to be talking to you. I’m tired of being Captain Janeway’s wife and having everyone defer to you for the decisions that I should be making. It’s my life. And I want the hell out of here. So let’s wrap this up and go, because I’ve got a few questions of my own, and they’re not getting answered here.”

She turned and walked to the station’s transporter operator, who had been waiting for his instructions. Kathryn looked after her, shocked by the way she’d said ‘Captain Janeway’s wife.’

A touch on her arm brought her head around to see Revi and Seven standing just behind her.

“You heard,” she said.

They nodded. “Don’t take it to heart,” said Revi. “She didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“I know.” And she did, but somehow that didn’t help as much as it should have.

“She’s angry,” said Seven. “And frightened. I can tell you from experience that this particular combination of emotions tends to override verbal tact.”

Kathryn smiled in spite of herself; Seven talking about tact was like a Ferengi talking about philanthropy. “Not that she’s ever had a great deal of it to begin with,” she said, trying to ease the tension. It worked, but only until Lynne returned, radiating impatience.

“The operator is ready. Are we?” she asked, clearly expecting a rapid and affirmative response. Kathryn nodded, wanting to get Lynne out of there before she burned any bridges they might need later. After a final thank you to the police, they mounted the station’s transporter platform.

Being transported directly from the police station had the advantage of keeping any record of their transport out of the main data channels. Unless an assassin had an informant inside the station’s transporter room, there was no way anyone could know where they’d gone. They could be on a remote island in Oceania, the bustle of Tokyo, or even on an orbiting ship.

In reality they were now in the Denver transport station, lost in an enormous crowd of people. Kathryn noticed Seven edging closer to Revi, her discomfort clear. For a woman who’d spent most of her life in a humanoid version of a bee hive, she had very little tolerance for dense crowds. Kathryn wasn’t fond of them either, but at the moment they served her purpose. In their traveling clothes they were simply four human women among thousands of beings of all sizes, species and gender, all hurrying on to their destinations and paying little attention to anyone else.

They stopped at the first available locator kiosk to look for Alison Necheyev’s address, but she wasn’t in the public database.

“That’s not unusual for high-profile people,” said Kathryn. “We’re going to have to tap into the main Federation database and track her down from her Fedcomm code. Seven, can you—”

“Yes,” said Seven. “Perhaps you should stand behind me so that I won’t be visible.”

“And now you’re reading my mind, too,” Kathryn observed as all three of them formed a wall behind Seven, blocking her from the foot traffic.

“Not your mind, just your intentions.” Seven plunged her assimilation tubules into the kiosk’s board and went rigid.

“What’s that like?” whispered Lynne to Revi.

“Like swimming through conduits of numbers. Want to see?”

“No, I don’t think so. That really doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Seven enjoys it. Computers are black and white and entirely literal.”

“I can see the attraction for her,” whispered Kathryn.

“Why are you whispering?” asked Revi. “She’s not hearing anything right now; her mind isn’t here.”

“God, that’s right,” said Lynne in a normal tone. “When she did this on the Arnett ship she didn’t even notice that she’d been shot in the leg.”

“Now there’s a memory I don’t care to revisit.” Revi put a protective hand on Seven’s shoulder just as they all heard the sound of assimilation tubules withdrawing. Seven turned to regard them with a raised eyebrow.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” Kathryn shook her head. “We were just…reminiscing.”

Seven glanced briefly at Revi, then back at Kathryn. “I am unlikely to be caught in a firefight in the Denver transport station.”

“That’s what I thought about skiing, too,” said Lynne. “Did you get it?”

“Of course. Alison Necheyev lives within hovercraft distance. If we can get a craft I’ll take us there.”

“Not a problem,” said Kathryn.

Half an hour later they were in a rented hovercraft, speeding northwest of Denver with Seven at the controls. From the front passenger seat, Lynne—who had relaxed considerably now that they were on a course of action—provided a running commentary of where they were and how different things looked.

“Where exactly did you live?” asked Revi. “You always just said ‘a little town in the Colorado Rockies’.”

“Idaho Springs,” she answered. “About fifty kilometers west of Denver. Most folks there were either descendants of the gold miners, retirees, or people working up at Loveland.”

“Loveland?”

“The nearest ski area. Actually one of the best in Colorado for powder. I was on skis at Loveland practically before I could walk.”

“Did your parents ski as well?” asked Seven.

“Oh, of course. I never knew anyone who didn’t ski until I went to university. Then I started meeting people who’d grown up in places like Kansas or Florida and had never even seen a mountain before, much less skied one. I taught a lot of friends to ski.”

“And you’re still doing it,” said Kathryn, earning a brief smile.

“It’s a little different these days,” she said. “My friends then tended to be slightly more provincial.”

But Lynne’s improved attitude was only a temporary respite. As they drew closer to their destination, she became quieter and visibly more tense. Kathryn understood; Alison Necheyev was the one person at the Foundation they had believed to be safe. She hoped against hope that their suspicions were wrong, but it was difficult to see an alternative. It was even more difficult to see what the suspicion was doing to her wife.

“We’re here,” announced Seven a few minutes later, bringing the craft to a halt without landing it. “Sensors show a security field; we’re receiving an automated message.”

“What does it say?” asked Kathryn.

Lynne leaned over to check the board. “Essentially it says ‘get lost’.”

“It says unauthorized entry is not allowed,” corrected Seven.

“Same thing.”

“Isn’t there a way to ask for entry?” asked Revi.

“Nope. Says here she takes no calls unless they’re pre-cleared.”

“Aren’t you pre-cleared?”

“To call her at the Foundation, yes, because her assistant was told to put me straight through. But we didn’t plan for me calling her at home. Hell, we didn’t plan on me calling her at all—we were supposed to be running in gray mode, remember? No calls that might be traced. And I don’t have a Fedcomm code of my own because I don’t officially exist yet, so even if she wanted to pre-clear me she couldn’t. God, I hate not being a person.”

“We could contact Admiral Necheyev,” suggested Seven.

“I don’t want her involved,” said Kathryn. “Not yet. Let’s see if she thought to clear my code.” She activated the screen in the back of Lynne’s seat and punched in the codes. “Looks like she did; it’s going through.”

A few seconds later Alison’s concerned face was looking out from the screen. “Captain Janeway! I wasn’t expecting to talk to you for another day or two. I hope there’s nothing wrong.”

“Actually, we’ve had a…situation. We’re right outside your security field.”

“A situation? Is Ms. Hamilton all right?”

“We’re all fine. May we enter?”

“Of course. One moment, please.” She looked down from the screen, then back up again. “The field is down. Please come in.”

“Thank you. We’ll see you in a few minutes.” Kathryn hoped that Alison’s instant concern was born of fear for Lynne, and not disappointment that they were all unharmed. “Go ahead, Seven.”

The thick woods of Alison’s property soon gave way to a small clearing dominated by a lovely three-story home, distinctive for its small footprint.

“That’s a custom build,” said Revi. “Gorgeous. It’s actually not that big; it just looks that way at first. It’s almost an optical illusion.”

“Let’s hope Dr. Necheyev is less of an illusion than her house,” said Lynne darkly.

They landed the hovercraft near the front porch, where the light was already on. As they made their way up the path, Kathryn wished with all her might that this house would hold the answers they needed to hear. If it turned out that Alison had betrayed them, she wasn’t sure she could hold Lynne back.

She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

 

 

-----

 

 

Alison watched the hovercraft pass her perimeter and brought the security field back up. These were the last people she’d expected to see outside her house, and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the news they brought.

“Great,” she muttered, looking at her half-finished dinner. “Guess my day just got longer.”

She had time to recycle the dinner and clear a pile of unread PADDs off her couch before the door chime sounded. Hurrying back to the front door, she opened it and stood aside. “Please come in.”

“Sorry to bother you at home, Dr. Necheyev,” said Captain Janeway as she entered.

“Not at all.” Alison’s dread increased as she watched the four women crowd into her hallway. They were stone-faced and quiet, offering none of the friendliness she’d seen in them when they’d parted three days ago. She shut the door and slipped past, leading them down the hall to her living room. “Please make yourselves comfortable,” she said, indicating the couch and chairs. “Can I get you anything?”

As the other women moved into the living room, Hamilton turned on her and said, “Yes. You can get me some answers.”

“Lynne…” Janeway began.

“Not this time, Kathryn.” Hamilton’s eyes never left Alison’s. “I just spent three hours giving answers to the police; it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

Alison began to feel a little intimidated. “I don’t under—”

“Tell me this, Dr. Necheyev,” Hamilton interrupted. “How is it possible that three assassins managed to find me on a fucking empty mountain, outside the ski resort boundary where no one ever goes, when you’re the only person in the world who knew where we were?”

Alison’s mouth dropped open. “They found you?”

“Is that really a surprise to you?” Hamilton folded her arms across her chest, her expression thunderous. “Or is the surprise that I’m not dead yet?”

Looking from her to the others, Alison found only suspicion and cool watchfulness. Suddenly Hamilton seemed to be a little too close, towering over her even though she hadn’t moved, and Alison took an involuntary step back. “Wait. You’re accusing me of giving you up?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just asking you a question, and so far I haven’t heard an answer.” Hamilton crowded her again, and Alison felt the wall at her back.

“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell Aunt Alynna! How can you even think it?”

“I can think it because they knew. And they got the information from someone, and you’re the only person they could have gotten it from. Do you want to try that answer again?”

“Lynne, stop. There are better ways to do this.” Janeway’s voice came from right behind Hamilton, but it didn’t seem to budge her. She stared at Alison with nothing but ice in her eyes, and for the first time Alison understood what her aunt had been talking about when she’d warned her not to underestimate this woman. Though Hamilton wasn’t touching her, and her hands hung loose at her sides, every nerve in Alison’s body was screaming danger.

Forcing her voice to remain level, she said, “You can ask me that question as many times as you want. I’m giving you the same answer. I did not tell anyone where you were, and I resent the accusation. After all I’ve done I think I deserve more consideration than that.”

“And I deserve to be able to live my life without wondering where the next shot is going to come from.” Hamilton’s voice was equally level, but on her it wasn’t reassuring at all. “Ironic to think I was safer in a hostile quadrant than I am here on Earth. At least in the Delta Quadrant I knew who to trust.”

“You can trust me. I understand why you’d suspect me, but the truth is that I’m the one who spent the last fourteen months trying to keep you safe. I’d hardly have gone through all that just to give you up now. I’m on your side.”

They stared at each other while the room seemed to hold its collective breath. Janeway watched them both but stayed out of it, and Alison didn’t take her eyes off the woman before her. She saw no change in that cold look.

“Listen. I’m the one who suspected the mousetrap. I talked Aunt Alynna into making sure all the data going to Voyager was dissected by engineers. That wasn’t her idea, it was mine. You can ask her if you don’t believe me; you can call her from here, right now. If it weren’t for me you would have used the slipstream drive, wouldn’t you? You’d never have found the phase variance. So what possible reason could I have for working so damn hard to bring you home, just to betray you? What would I get out of it?”

“Money is usually the motivating force,” said Hamilton. “But I don’t know what it might be for you. You tell me.”

“I don’t need money. There is no force that could motivate me to help kill an innocent person. And even if there were, Aunt Alynna would drop-kick me off the top of the Foundation building if she ever thought I was going to the wrong side. You’ve met the Admiral; do you think for a moment that she’d tell you to trust me if she had any doubts about my ethics?”

“That would depend on whether she knew she should doubt your ethics.”

“For the love of God, I am not your enemy! I’m probably your best ally on this planet! I know it must look bad, but take a step back and look at the whole picture. I’ve worked on your behalf since before I even knew you. I did it because your story intrigued me and I wanted a happy ending for it. It wasn’t my job and I took some chances with the choices I made, but I wanted to bring you home. And not so that you’d be an easier target for assassins!”

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, it wasn’t your job? Why were you so involved, then?”

Alison was distinctly uncomfortable with the wall at her back, and offended by the obvious physical intimidation. Nor was anyone in the room rushing to her defense. For a moment she felt wildly resentful that this woman, of all the people in the world, would be so clearly threatening to her. But she had years of experience in negotiations, and had long ago learned to see past the surface of what people presented at the table. And when she set aside her own feelings and looked into the face so close to hers, she could see the crack in Hamilton’s facade. This woman desperately needed to know who she could trust. The issue wasn’t so much that there had been a betrayal, but that Alison might have been the one to commit it. That made it personal. And it made what she said in the next few minutes very important.

“I was involved because I saw your message to your parents,” she said. “I saw a woman who literally gave up everything to be with someone. I work at some high levels of politics and finances, and I have to tell you, love and self-sacrifice are not something I see on a daily basis. I’m probably a bit jaded about it, and when I watched you talking about why you couldn’t go home, it…well, it made me feel protective. I wanted to safeguard what you have, because it’s so unusual, and I wanted to protect you, because of what you’ve done.” She smiled ruefully. “I even had visions of taking you and Captain Janeway out for a celebratory drink once you got home. But in my wildest dreams I never envisioned this.”

Some of the ice left Hamilton’s eyes, but that didn’t translate into any warmth. After another long pause she finally said, “All right. Just for the sake of argument, let’s say I believe you. Then tell me how else that information could have gotten out if it didn’t come from you?”

The tone and the question told Alison she’d gotten over the first hurdle, though she was certain there were more ahead. “I’ll be happy to brainstorm that with you. But I’d like a little space first.”

Hamilton backed off one step, and Alison breathed easier. “Thank you. Now, maybe you can start from the beginning and tell me what happened. If I’m a traitor then I probably already know, so you won’t lose anything by telling me. And if I’m on your side then I need to know, so you’ll only gain.”

An unwilling half-smile transformed Hamilton’s face. “Nice,” she said. “I can see why you’re the CEO.”

It broke the tension, but if Alison had any illusions about having earned back Hamilton’s trust, they were shattered when she offered once again to get drinks and found the entire group trooping after her to the kitchen. They weren’t about to let her go off alone.

But the kitchen was one of her favorite rooms in the house, and having them there somehow felt easier than having them in the living room. The sense of intimidation she’d felt vanished, and she was more secure in her ability to handle the situation. She served drinks from the replicator and, seeing that none of the others were going to sit at the breakfast nook, took a seat there herself. Looking up at the four women standing in her kitchen, she said, “I’m listening.”

It was Janeway who started the story, with Seven of Nine and Sandovhar filling in. Hamilton remained silent throughout the retelling, her gaze never leaving Alison’s face.

The story made sense right up until Janeway said Hamilton had taken cover at the base of a drop-off. Alison didn’t see how that was possible, given the fact that she’d been dodging phaser fire while skiing at full speed.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “So they just let you stop and climb down a wall without taking a shot at you?”

“I didn’t stop,” said Hamilton.

“She jumped and threw off her skis with a backflip,” said Sandovhar. “When she hit the bottom she was out of their sight.”

Alison stared. “Are you insane? You could have done their job for them!”

Hamilton shook her head. “It was a calculated risk. I had enough speed going over that jump to clear just about anything. And even if it hadn’t worked, a broken bone is fixable. A phaser shot to the head isn’t. There was no way I could have kept going; I was an easy target out there.”

“Not so easy, it sounds like,” said Alison. “Go on.”

“I took cover with Lynne,” Janeway continued, “and it turned out that the Cardassians were right underneath a wind slab. So we used our phasers to undercut the cornice of snow at the top of the ridge. It dropped onto the wind slab and knocked it loose, and the Cardassians were buried under a few kilotons of snow.”

Alison didn’t know where to start with that one. “You threw your skis off too?”

“No, I’m not that insane.”

Hamilton snorted. “No, she just came to a complete stop above me and made herself a perfect target. Then she took the jump, with no speed at all. She had a better chance of hurting herself than I did.”

Alison looked between them. “And then you started an avalanche. Just like that.”

“Lynne’s done a lot of backcountry skiing,” said Janeway. “She knows snow.”

The whole thing was just so outrageous that Alison couldn’t help but laugh. “And Cardassians hate cold. It sounds like those thugs had no idea what they were up against. Could they have picked a worse place to try that hit?”

After a pause, the kitchen was filled with chuckles. Even Hamilton cracked a smile, and suddenly the mood seemed almost friendly.

“Actually they planned it out pretty well,” she said. “They just didn’t know enough about their environment.”

“Or about you.” Alison looked at her thoughtfully. “Why did it take them three days to find you?”

“We don’t think it did,” said Janeway. “Our guess is they spent that time preparing the hit. They must have been using our resort commbadges to track us; certainly they knew precisely where to find Lynne.”

“So you think they waited until you went to an isolated run before making the attempt?”

“No,” said Hamilton. “Kathryn and I were on some remote runs quite a few times the first two days, with nobody around. They had any number of opportunities. We think they were just studying and planning. If they had our commbadge numbers, then they had our false names and most likely our reservation information. They knew they had plenty of time.”

“And since they’d already failed once,” added Janeway, “they were probably motivated to make sure the second attempt went off without a hitch.”

“Did the police find any bodies?”

“No,” said Janeway. “Which means that they either had an automated beamout, or there is at least one other in their cell who transported them out.”

“Could they still be alive?”

“Doubtful,” Hamilton said. “The police found three snowshoes. That means they were knocked off, which means the Cardassians did get slammed by the avalanche before they were beamed out. That was a steep slope and a big slab. I think they were crushed.”

Alison was a little unsettled by her matter-of-fact tone. This woman had probably killed three people today, and here she was, standing in her kitchen and looking just fine with it. Certainly it was a them or her situation, but still…!

She pushed that thought down and focused on the problem at hand. “All right. I have some information that might fit into this puzzle. Aunt Alynna’s investigators found the transporter operator at Bloomington who beamed you to the Starfleet relay; turns out he passed that information on to a man who said he was a reporter. But when Starfleet checked with the news service the man was supposed to work for, they said they had no one staking out the Bloomington station. So her guess is that the Cardassians have a Human contact here, someone who could ask questions without attracting any attention.”

Seven of Nine tilted her head. “That might explain how they determined our resort commbadge numbers. Unless they were able to remotely tap into the resort computer system—which seems doubtful given the fact that the resort’s system is localized and self-contained—they could only have gotten the information by directly accessing the records.”

“And it’s difficult for a Cardassian to sneak around an Earth ski resort unnoticed,” said Janeway.

“But not for a Human,” added Sandovhar. “Interesting. Is there any way this same man might have tapped into your systems? At work, at home?”

Alison shook her head slowly, trying to remember any occasion when that information might have been available. “I don’t think so. I mean, even if my systems are compromised, I never passed on your location. I didn’t tell Aunt Alynna when we spoke that night; I didn’t have it recorded anywhere in my personal files. It’s just not there. The only time that information was even mentioned was when you told me in my office.”

“Well then,” said Janeway, “I think we have to consider the possibility of a microtransmitter in your office.”

Alison stared at her, shocked. “In my office?” She felt a sense of violation just thinking about it. And yet… “But it’s not really my office, is it?” she said, more to herself than them. “It’s an office at the Foundation. I’m an employee; I don’t have sole access to it.”

“Who else would?” asked Hamilton.

“My employers,” she said. “The officers of the board.”

 

 

 

 

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