The Sato Series, Episode 3: a new Frontier

Ja’Kir had puffed up as soon as Kieran acknowledged his upcoming ritual, a very important rite of passage, and one that only brave and honorable Klingons could endure. Kieran thought he was adorable, even if he was P’Arth’s offspring.

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Kate Pulaski had stewed for days on end over Joely Winfield’s proposition. She had nearly paced a hole in her floorboards, turning it over and over in her mind. She simply could not reason through it herself, but now that the Klingons had arrived, Kieran was busy playing hostess. The formal talks had not yet begun, but Chancellor P’Arth seemed to be enjoying keeping the newly appointed captain hopping to do her bidding. Kate knew it must be grating on Kieran, to be expected to kiss the woman’s ass for the sake of diplomacy. She thought about P’Arth, and her ship full of Klingons. Where were the fucking Borg when you needed them?
The air in her home was stale, and she needed to breathe. And to talk to someone who would understand the predicament she was in. Kathryn Janeway was uniquely qualified for that task, and really, after all, Kathryn owed her more than a few favors, just for the way she had handled Kathryn’s insanity during the outbreak of the Restidian bacteria. She placed a comm message to the Janeway farm in Bloomington, Indiana. Kathryn answered the workstation hail, looking lazy and contented. Looking like she just got laid, Kate realized.
“Kate!” Kathryn greeted her enthusiastically. “What prompts you to comm me?” she asked, smiling at the elderly doctor.
Kate bit her lip fretfully. “I’d like to—could we—Kathryn,” she faltered in an uncharacteristic fit of reticence, “If I transport to Indiana, can you spare an hour?” she finally got the request out.
Kathryn gave her a lopsided grin. “I can spare at least two,” she advised. “I’ll meet you at the transporter station with a shuttle,” she offered. “How soon do you want to come?”
Kate glanced at the chrono on her living room wall. “Meet me in forty five minutes?” she requested.
“I’ll see you then. And dress warmly. We got a fresh snowfall early this morning,” she advised.

Kathryn sat across the kitchen table from her old friend, wondering for the hundredth time exactly how old Kate Pulaski was. Somehow, the doctor had actually gotten Starfleet to password protect her personnel file so that the birth date on her record showed on screen as “classified”. Kathryn presumed Amanda Brand was behind that indulgence of vanity. Kate actually didn’t look as old as Kathryn’s own mother, and she assumed Kate was likely in her early sixties. She knew that couldn’t be right, though, because Kate had been at the Academy when Kathryn was a cadet, and she was at least in her thirties then.

Kathryn and her family were lingering in Indiana, taking leave while they could, though with the early arrival of the Klingons, most of the Sato crew had been recalled back to duty. Being an Ambassador had its perks, and until the Romulans arrived, she would not be expected aboard the ship. Of course, she and Seven would be going back for New Year’s, because the Captain’s Ball was scheduled for New Year’s eve, and Kathryn wouldn’t miss a party if her life depended upon it.
Kathryn kept waiting for Kate Pulaski to say something, but so far, she had only gulped coffee and put away a caramel brownie. Finally, Kathryn decided to break the ice.
“So what’s on your mind? You didn’t brave the frozen wasteland of my hometown just to eat Mom’s caramel brownies,” Kathryn teased.
“No, but by God, they’d be worth the trip,” Kate laughed, sipping her second cup of coffee and finishing off her second brownie. She reached for a third. “It’s a matter of some—delicacy,” she began. “I thought if anyone could understand, it would be you. So pardon me for prying, ahead of time, and for being blunt,” she prefaced their conversation.
Kathryn laughed. “Kate, you’re always blunt, and you always pry, so don’t go all proper on me now,” she teased.
“All right, then. Tell me something, Kathryn. Do you consider yourself a lesbian?” she asked pensively.
“Not really,” Kathryn replied easily. “I would have to say I’m bisexual, at heart, but I’ve chosen a partner who is female,” she explained.
“Did it ever—bother you, that Seven was an anomalous romantic interest for you?” Kate ventured, stirring her coffee to cool it.
“Absolutely,” Kathryn admitted. “I doubted the genuineness of my feelings, at first,” she confided. “And then there was the age difference,” she added thoughtfully. “Truthfully, if Naomi’s mother hadn’t been injured, and Seven hadn’t come to live with me to help me raise Naomi, I would never have let myself go there,” she said softly. “I loved her, don’t get me wrong,” she recalled absently, “but I had all sorts of stupid obstacles that were in my head.”
“Have you ever regretted the marriage?” Kate asked doggedly, watching Kathryn’s reaction carefully.
“Not for a second,” Kathryn affirmed. “Seven is an amazing woman, and I am extremely fortunate to be with her,” she responded sincerely.
Seven of Nine had come into the kitchen just as Kathryn answered, and she grinned, leaning down to kiss Kathryn’s hair. “And I never let her forget it for an instant,” she giggled.
Kate sighed. “Did you worry what other people would think? I mean, first because everyone knew you to be heterosexual, and second, because Seven is so much younger?”
Kathryn cocked her head to one side, cognizant of how troubled Kate’s tone was. “I did at first,” she said honestly.
“At first?” Seven interrupted. “Kathryn, you didn’t stop worrying about it until Naomi ran away from home,” she reminded her wife. “Excuse me, I just needed some milk for Erin. I apologize for butting in,” she added, grabbing the baby’s bottle.
Kathryn smiled at her wife. “She’s right, there,” she agreed. “I worried a lot about my command image. I was trying to hold a crew together thousands of light years from home, and I didn’t want to seem human.” She sipped her coffee regretfully. “I wasted more time than I can begin to account for, in fact, on my ridiculous hang-ups. Kate,” she reached across the table, touching the older woman’s hand. “Why all these questions?” she wondered, then it hit her. “Are you—seeing a woman?”
Kate laughed sharply, an edge to her manner. “Seeing? That sounds so innocent, and nowhere near what I’ve been doing,” she confessed. “She’s very young, comparatively speaking, and I am absolutely flabbergasted at myself. I’ve never even looked at another woman, not that way,” she puzzled over it. “But she—is just different,” she settled on a description. “And she wants to make the relationship public.”
“Do you love her?” Kathryn asked gently, already knowing the answer.
“I do,” Kate confirmed. “I don’t know how that’s even possible, but I do.”
“Do you feel like there’s anything lacking with her sexually? Because she’s not a man?” Kathryn pushed the confidentiality envelope a bit.
Kate colored, which startled Kathryn. Kate could be very crude, and Kathryn never expected to be able to embarrass her. “I have no complaints. But living together? I don’t know, Kathryn, it seems so—adolescent.”
Kathryn nodded. “You’d prefer to marry her?”
“Hell, no, one step at a time,” she shot back. “I just mean that women my age should be beyond this sort of flirtation.” She glanced up, catching Gretchen Janeway’s eye as the elder Janeway entered the kitchen.
“I hope I’m never beyond it,” Gretchen smarted, going to the stove for the hot water she was boiling.
Kate laughed aloud, nodding. “There’s one vote in favor of,” she pretended to scratch one tick mark in the air.
“Yes,” Kathryn drawled sardonically, “mother and Kieran’s father are quite the item,” she teased Gretchen.
Kate’s eyes widened. “Really? I can see I haven’t been hearing enough gossip,” she joked.
“Don’t change the subject,” Kathryn admonished. “So this woman wants to live with you? Has she proposed?”
“No, only that we live together. Hmmm,” Kate pondered that. “I wonder if that means she doesn’t think I’m worth a proposal,” she said hesitantly. She set her coffee cup down with a thud. “I can’t start thinking about things like that or I’ll drive myself mad,” she concluded. “I love her. I want to be with her. I just feel so—”
“Ridiculous? Conspicuous?” Gretchen asked helpfully.
Kate was nonplussed. “Exactly. Both.”
“I know,” she agreed. “I thought the same thing with Gerry. I mean, really, Edward had been gone so long, and should a woman my age have needs or desires?” Gretchen admitted. “But I’m glad I let Gerry convince me that you’re never too old for love, and passion isn’t only for our children,” she opined. “Sorry to stick my nose in your conversation. My tea is ready,” she commented. “You must feel like you’re visiting Grand Central Station,” she said to Kate, smiling.
Kate nodded. “I’m not sure who I’m having this conversation with,” she agreed, “but I am glad for your input.”
“Mom,” Kathryn impeded the elder Janeway’s exit, “did we really make you feel ridiculous and conspicuous?” she asked, troubled at the thought.
Gretchen smiled, nodding. “So much so that Gerry and I carried on a long time before we told you,” she admitted.
“You did?” Kathryn was surprised. “I thought you and Gerry just sort of—got together around the time I shipped out on the Sato,” she stated.
Gretchen shook her head. “We were very improper,” she confessed. “Violet hadn’t been gone long at all, in fact,” she said, blushing slightly. “So we were very careful not to flaunt it. We were trying to be sensitive to Kieran,” she explained. “Not that we think she’d have ever been judgmental, but still, Violet’s death was so fresh, we were afraid to let anyone find out.”
Kathryn reached for her mother’s wizened hand. “I don’t see the point in wasting time. Life is short, Mom. Kieran understood that better than any of us, because she lost Cassidy, and because she thought she was going to have to watch Naomi die,” she said softly. “If anyone would have been judgmental, it would have been your asinine eldest daughter,” she stated flatly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a horrid daughter to you, and yet you’ve never really taken me to task over it, Mom,” she apologized.
Gretchen shook her head. “You have not been horrid, sugar. You’ve been a child who adored her daddy, and never really got over losing him. Gerry and I knew that, and we knew it would be hard for you to see me with another man. I almost didn’t get involved with him for that very reason. It’s why I’ve never married him,” she added.
“Oh, Mom,” Kathryn pushed away from the table and hugged her tightly. “I would have hated myself if you had missed this happiness because I’m so petty,” she replied. “I love you so much. And I love Gerry. And I love you both together. If you want your last name to be Thompson, then you should do it,” she encouraged her.
Gretchen hugged her back, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. “I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me if I abandoned your father’s name,” she explained.
Kathryn held her mother’s face in her hands. “You wouldn’t be abandoning anything, Mom. I know you loved Daddy, and I know you would still be with him if not for me.”
Kate Pulaski almost dropped her brownie. “If not for you?” she asked faintly.
Gretchen eased Kathryn back down into her seat. “My daughter is laboring under the delusion that she got her father killed,” she replied. “I’ve told her before that’s not the way it was. But she still blames herself.”
Kathryn bit her lip. “I tried to save them both. If I had only chosen one, they wouldn’t both have died.”
Kate remembered the accident as if it were yesterday. Everyone in Starfleet who was alive during that era remembered it. Edward Janeway and Justin Tighe, Kathryn’s father and her fiancée, respectively, both died that day. But the official story didn’t mention that Kathryn had the option of saving either of them. Kate assessed the situation in a flash. “Nobody could have made that choice, Kathryn. You had to try to save them both, because that’s the way you’re wired. You don’t accept defeat. It’s why you were the single most decorated Captain in the fleet,” Kate reminded her.
Kathryn smiled slightly. “Not anymore. Kieran is, now.” She poured herself another cup of coffee, thinking of her father and of Justin. “Looking back, I should have saved Daddy,” she decided. “He outranked both Justin and I.”
Kate debated what she was about to say. But there were some things that in her mind should not be classified, and she would be damned if she would take them to her grave. “Kathryn,” she said slowly, “I did the autopsies,” she advised her.
“I know,” Kathryn replied. “I was glad it was someone I trusted,” she said gratefully.
“I’m going to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago. If I had known the real story, I would have. But you know, the history books don’t say you had any opportunity to save them, and I didn’t know you were carrying that guilt around. Starfleet let you believe they drown,” she said angrily. “That was the official story. But it’s not true. Kathryn, they were both dead long before they had the chance to drown.”
Kathryn’s head snapped up. “What?”
“The powers that be wanted to cover up the fact that the Terra Nova had been sabotaged. That’s what made it explode,” Kate said darkly. “They chalked it up to a technological flaw, because they didn’t want the bad publicity that a terrorist attack would engender,” she explained. “So the official story was that there was a minor flaw that caused the ship to fail, and that if it had crashed anywhere but an ocean, no one would have died. The truth is, the bomb that was on that ship killed both men, and if I had known those bastards at headquarters allowed you to believe for a second your actions were the reason they died, I would have told you eons ago.”
Kathryn’s stomach sank. “But—Owen Paris even told my mother that I had to make the choice.” Surely to God Owen wouldn’t have lied to Kathryn. He had been Edward’s friend.
Kate sighed. “Owen doesn’t know the true story either. The operatives from Section 31 were running the show on that incident. Not the brass. I was told in no uncertain terms how to write my report, and it was abundantly clear to me that if I tried to argue, I’d have been dealt with in an accident of my own,” she breathed. “But I swear to you, if I had known they let you believe you killed them, I would have told you. I’m not sure how high up the ladder Section 31 goes, but I guarantee you, it’s above Owen’s level. Someone much higher up pulls those strings.” Kate studied her coffee cup with a dismal expression. “I have no right to be here,” she announced. “I am truly sorry, Kathryn. I wish I had known what you’d been told. I don’t expect you’ll ever forgive me, nor do I deserve it.”
Kathryn grabbed her forearm, stopping her from leaving. “Kate, wait,” she begged. “I don’t blame you, not at all. For God’s sake, Section 31 is powerful, frightening, and I wouldn’t have expected you to sacrifice your life just to tell the truth. And you didn’t know, Kate. You didn’t know I thought it was my fault.”
Kate’s guilt gnawed at her. Kathryn recognized it immediately. “Stop it. Don’t do this to yourself,” she insisted. “Kate, please, don’t.”
Kate sat back down, suddenly feeling as old as she really was. “Jesus,” she muttered. “I can’t believe how twisted life gets, sometimes,” she murmured. “This thing with your father, the mess with the Klingons, my relationship with Joely,” she said faintly.
Kathryn’s sorrow dissipated immediately. “Joely? That’s who you’re involved with? Oh, Kate,” she gushed, “I adore her. I think that’s wonderful,” she praised the older woman, gathering her into a hug, even with the chairs and the table in the way. “Tell me everything,” she enthused, settling in for an afternoon of gossip.
Kate grinned wickedly. “What do you want to know?” she asked sheepishly.
Kathryn laughed happily. “Start at the beginning and don’t leave out a word. But wait, hasn’t Kieran badgered you to accept Joely’s invitation?”
Kate shook her head. “Kieran doesn’t know. No one does. Except you.” She sipped her coffee to fortify herself. “When Joely was a Cadet, I taught a couple of her medical classes. Then I was her preceptor in her internship,” she began, smiling at the retelling. “But we didn’t get involved until the war,” she added, warming to her subject.
Kathryn practically clapped her hands with glee, but she refrained lest she quell the doctor’s ardor for telling a good story.

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Katie Torres showed Ja’Kir her bat’leth, the one with the hard rubber blade that she used in her practice sessions on the holodeck. The children had been introduced on the tour of the ship, because Ja’Kir had asked to see the classrooms, and Katie had been taking an arts and crafts class. She had immediately gravitated to the Klingon boy. B'Elanna had reluctantly agreed that Katie could play on the holodeck with him.
Ja’Kir scoffed at her. “That is not a real bat’leth,” he said with a superior tone. “That is for babies.” His dark features reflected the overhead lights, his brow ridges high and proud.
Katie tried not to take offense. “Starfleet doesn’t allow children to fight with real blades,” she explained. “Human children are not as sturdy as I am.”
“How will you ever become a true warrior, without being able to draw blood in battle?” he asked. His voice had the tendency to crack at intervals, as he was entering adolescence, and it was trying to deepen in timbre.
“I don’t know,” Katie admitted. “But my mother knows how to fight with a real blade, and she wins tournaments all the time,” she bragged.
“My mother,” he replied with a swagger, “is Chancellor of the High Council. She fought in the Dominion War. She killed scores of Jem Hadar,” he noted.
Katie felt a chill creep up her spine. “Really?” she breathed. Jem Hadar were about the scariest aliens she had ever seen, and their brute strength frightened her.
“Uh huh,” Ja’Kir nodded enthusiastically. “She has trophies to prove it—their battle armor, phase pistols she stripped from the dead bodies, even a ketracel white delivery unit,” he detailed with excitement. “I bet she would show you, if you ask,” he noted.
P’Arth entered the holodeck, searching for her wayward son. “Ja’Kir, you are late for lunch,” she accused, a faint grin curling the edges of her lips.
“I’m sorry, mother,” he replied contritely. “I was telling Katie about the Jem Hadar you killed,” he said with obvious pride.
She tousled his hair, laughing. “My son exaggerates,” she advised Kieran’s daughter. “Did Katie tell you, Ja’Kir, that her mother is the captain of this ship?”
His eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me that,” he accused Katie. “Captain Wildman is your mom?”
“Yes. She’s the most decorated officer in Starfleet history,” Katie boasted. “Only she never tells anyone that. I don’t know why,” she said, puzzled by it.
B'Elanna Torres had come looking for her daughter, and came in just as Katie was saying so. “She doesn’t tell anyone because she thinks it’s arrogant to speak of such things,” she scolded her daughter. “And she would be very displeased to know you brag about her to make your friends feel inferior,” she added.
P’Arth appraised the Klingon-human hybrid before her. They had not been friends at the Academy, but they had met several times before B'Elanna dropped out. “Commander,” P’Arth said cordially, “it’s been a very long time,” she offered, extending her hand.
“Chancellor, the last time I saw you, you were a Cadet fourth class. It seems you’ve elevated your station in life considerably,” she replied, taking the Klingon’s hand. “Our children seem to be having a good time bragging about their respective parents,” she added.
P’Arth laughed. “And you have been among humans so long, you have lost your bravado,” she noted insightfully. “But then, being married to Kieran, you’d end up absorbing some of her humility.”
B'Elanna did not feel at ease talking about her former wife, especially not with the woman who had beaten Kieran senseless.
“Mom,” Katie interrupted, “Chancellor P’Arth fought in the Dominion War. She killed Jem Hadar!” she informed her mother. “Ja’Kir said she might show me her trophies. Could I go to their ship?”
B'Elanna hesitated. She knew Kieran would kill her if she said yes, but at the same time, she would offend P’Arth, and possibly the Klingon Empire, if she said no. “You would have to ask Captain Wildman, honey. I don’t know that she would want you imposing on the Chancellor,” she settled on. “Besides, she’s very busy with the preparations for the Captain’s Ball, since all the Starfleet brass will be there, and all her friends from the Enterprise,” B'Elanna made excuses for Kieran.
P’Arth grinned, but it looked more like a sneer. “It’s no imposition. Clear it with your Captain, and I’ll be happy to take her with me.”
B'Elanna scowled inwardly. She would have hell to pay if she let P’Arth escort Katie onto a Klingon ship. She would have to go along. “I’ll ask her later,” she decided, “and if she agrees, may I come? It’s been a very long time since I was aboard a ship from the homeworld,” she tried to sound as though she were awed at the prospect.
“Of course. I’ll have my engineer show you the engine room, and anything else you like,” P’Arth replied cordially. Then she actually smiled.
B'Elanna was taken aback at the Chancellor’s manners. She was clearly a diplomat of the highest order, and it was difficult for B'Elanna to imagine this woman as an abusive partner. She exuded serenity and calm, a rarity for a Klingon, especially one in a position of authority.
“May I hail you once I’ve spoken to Captain Wildman?” B'Elanna asked.
“Of course. Ja’Kir, say goodbye to your friend for now. We need to transport back.”
Ja’Kir handed Katie back the practice bat’leth. “I hope you get to come to our ship,” he said to her.
“Me, too,” Katie agreed. It was the first time she could recall having a friend who looked as Klingon as she did. And the Chancellor was such a handsome woman, clad in her breeches and her battle tunic. She sighed wistfully as they turned for the transporter room. “Mom,” she said softly to B'Elanna, “have you ever seen a more beautiful woman?” she murmured.
B'Elanna stifled a grin at Katie’s faraway expression. It was her first crush.

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Detara served the Chancellor and her son their lunch, then left them to discuss the day. P’Arth and Ja’Kir held hands and P’Arth offered the midday Plea for the Dead.
“Kahless, we implore you to remember those warriors who have fallen in your name. Lift them out of the cavern of despair, and reveal yourself to them in all your glory. Remember Mor’dehK, son of Ve’chuk,” she stated reverently.
Ja’Kir added “Remember Ve’chuk, son of Var’theg.”
“What did you think of Katie Torres?” P’Arth asked him, trying not to sound too interested in the observations he had made.
Ja’Kir considered. “She is pretty, but she has lived with humans too long,” he decided. “She is weak.”
“What makes you think so?” P’Arth pressed him, sipping a bit of bloodwine to cleanse her palate.
“She uses a rubber edged bat’leth to practice with,” he replied, shoveling qagh into his mouth and letting it squirm on his tongue. He liked the way it struggled. “She said Starfleet won’t let her use a real blade.”
P’Arth nodded. “I suspect it is less about Starfleet regulations and more about her mother’s overprotectiveness,” she said thoughtfully.
“Which mother?” Ja’Kir clarified.
“Captain Wildman, I imagine,” P’Arth returned. “I knew her at the Academy a very long time ago. She lacked the strength of character, the killer instinct, a true warrior possesses. I am surprised that Starfleet has allowed her to take command of a ship as grand as the Sato,” she added. “The war must have truly decimated the ranks of the corps.”