Captain Kathryn Janeway sipped from her coffee mug and gave the pile
of boxes in the middle of the room "The Look." This look was enough to
cause any member of Janeway's crew to snap to attention. It had convinced
uncounted hostile Delta Quadrant forces that the petite alien woman behind
it meant business. This look had even worked on an unruly Q child.
The boxes remained unmoved.
Although she had fulfilled the promise of her life, successfully returning her ship and crew home to the Alpha Quadrant after seven years on the far side of the galaxy, Janeway was still processing the fact that she was actually on Earth, and not on Voyager. She had resisted unpacking her personal effects from the ship for nearly a week, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge this silent white apartment as "home."
Logically, she knew, as Seven had told her during their last conversation, that resistance was futile, and those effects would not be going back to Voyager for a while, if ever. Nonetheless, she persisted in granting herself this one luxury, knowing that if she were still crossing the expanses of the Delta Quadrant, she never would have considered such behavior.
She sighed, and taking another sip of her coffee, started for the boxes. Her communications panel beeped, and she turned her steps toward it, silently admonishing herself for feeling relieved.
As Janeway sat down at the computer, her mother's face appeared on the screen, a slightly mischievous, knowing expression on it. "Hello, Kathryn. How's the unpacking coming?"
"It isn't." Janeway tried to look serious. She failed, and her face split into a large smile, amused that her mother still knew her so well.
As Gretchen Janeway looked back, her eyes misted over. "I wasn't sure I'd see that smile again. I still can't get over seeing you. I . . ." Gretchen paused, taking a deep breath and steadying her voice. "I'm forwarding a message that came to the house for you. It arrived just before the communiqué from Starfleet Command that you had made it back, and I guess it slipped my mind. I ran across it today."
"Do you know who it's from?" Janeway asked, puzzled.
"No, I didn't look. I assume it's from someone at Starfleet who heard the news before I did."
Later, after bidding her mother goodnight and replicating a fresh cup of coffee to replace the one that had grown cold, Janeway opened the message. The familiar, aged face on-screen filled her with a pang of sorrow. As she watched, the coffee grew cold once again.
"Hello, Kathryn. I asked Voyager to send this when you reached Earth. Congratulations.
Those first few nights back on Earth were not easy for me; I'm sure they're no easier for you. After so long in space, it was hard to feel comfortable without the hum of the warp core, or the knowledge that Voyager was speeding on, protecting me from whatever was out there. And although I'm sure the design and feel of a fleet issue bed has not changed much in your seven year absence - it barely changed during my twenty three years - it's still not your bed, not after so long.
So, for your insomnia, and my own stubborn desire to change time, I leave you two gifts. The first is advice, and before you stop watching for fear of temporal contamination, I promise not to tell you anymore than you already know about your future.
You are very driven, Kathryn. So am I. However, with the achievement of so many of my goals -- making admiral, getting Voyager home, watching those I cared about finally receive the promotions and commendations they deserved -- I couldn't help but think of things I would have changed. The first of those will have been achieved by the time you see this: getting you home a little early and saving those like Tuvok, Chakotay, and Seven from the cruel fates awaiting them.
It took me ten years, even with daily contact with Starfleet during the last three, to get official promotions for my crew. Considering the size of the ship, and the inability to assign any more of the duties that would normally accompany a promotion, Starfleet held off. There were plenty of good people, like Harry, who waited patiently for far too long. He deserves to be promoted; they all do.
Of course, you are returning to a Federation ravaged by its costly war with the Dominion. I returned to a safer, happier, more prosperous Federation. They may need your officers now more than they needed mine. Either way, make it happen!
But, be wary of your own promotions. I was ready to be an admiral by the time I reached Earth. Of course, as soon as I no longer had a starship to command, I missed it. I became more an administrator and less an explorer.
Over the years, I became good friends with Jean-Luc Picard. He told me about an encounter he once had with the legendary James Kirk. Kirk told Picard to never let himself be promoted, transferred, or anything else that would take him off the bridge of his ship. 'While you're there,' Kirk said, 'you can make a difference.'
Although it may seem tame when compared to your last mission, there are still wonders to be explored within known space. Don't leave that to the young. Take them with you, Kathryn, but walk the stars yourself for as long as you can.
In short, keep exploring – explore domestic territory as well as space. By the time I got Voyager home, I was a little too old, and a little too used to being 'the Captain.' I don't regret the decision to deny myself the luxury of becoming romantically involved with anyone under my command, but I do regret not returning home earlier and having the opportunity to find someone to grow old with.
I came to your time to save you, to save myself, as much as I did to save the others. I remember how much you rely on your independence, and how long you've been the final authority and held yourself to very high, strict standards. But trust me. After all, if you can't trust yourself . . ."
"Who can I trust?" Captain Janeway whispered in response to her older self.
Admiral Janeway looked down at a PADD in her hands and sighed. When she raised her eyes to the screen again, a sad smile crossed her face.
"The second gift is a holo-photo, which you will find at the end of this message. I left the same photo for my Tuvok, back . . . in another time. Your holo has one variation, though. With the computer's help, I added Kes to the group. In this picture, the family is complete. Good-bye, Kathryn."
As Captain Janeway watched, the Admiral's image disappeared, replaced by a holo-photo of the completed family.
Her family.
The boxes remained unmoved.
Although she had fulfilled the promise of her life, successfully returning her ship and crew home to the Alpha Quadrant after seven years on the far side of the galaxy, Janeway was still processing the fact that she was actually on Earth, and not on Voyager. She had resisted unpacking her personal effects from the ship for nearly a week, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge this silent white apartment as "home."
Logically, she knew, as Seven had told her during their last conversation, that resistance was futile, and those effects would not be going back to Voyager for a while, if ever. Nonetheless, she persisted in granting herself this one luxury, knowing that if she were still crossing the expanses of the Delta Quadrant, she never would have considered such behavior.
She sighed, and taking another sip of her coffee, started for the boxes. Her communications panel beeped, and she turned her steps toward it, silently admonishing herself for feeling relieved.
As Janeway sat down at the computer, her mother's face appeared on the screen, a slightly mischievous, knowing expression on it. "Hello, Kathryn. How's the unpacking coming?"
"It isn't." Janeway tried to look serious. She failed, and her face split into a large smile, amused that her mother still knew her so well.
As Gretchen Janeway looked back, her eyes misted over. "I wasn't sure I'd see that smile again. I still can't get over seeing you. I . . ." Gretchen paused, taking a deep breath and steadying her voice. "I'm forwarding a message that came to the house for you. It arrived just before the communiqué from Starfleet Command that you had made it back, and I guess it slipped my mind. I ran across it today."
"Do you know who it's from?" Janeway asked, puzzled.
"No, I didn't look. I assume it's from someone at Starfleet who heard the news before I did."
Later, after bidding her mother goodnight and replicating a fresh cup of coffee to replace the one that had grown cold, Janeway opened the message. The familiar, aged face on-screen filled her with a pang of sorrow. As she watched, the coffee grew cold once again.
"Hello, Kathryn. I asked Voyager to send this when you reached Earth. Congratulations.
Those first few nights back on Earth were not easy for me; I'm sure they're no easier for you. After so long in space, it was hard to feel comfortable without the hum of the warp core, or the knowledge that Voyager was speeding on, protecting me from whatever was out there. And although I'm sure the design and feel of a fleet issue bed has not changed much in your seven year absence - it barely changed during my twenty three years - it's still not your bed, not after so long.
So, for your insomnia, and my own stubborn desire to change time, I leave you two gifts. The first is advice, and before you stop watching for fear of temporal contamination, I promise not to tell you anymore than you already know about your future.
You are very driven, Kathryn. So am I. However, with the achievement of so many of my goals -- making admiral, getting Voyager home, watching those I cared about finally receive the promotions and commendations they deserved -- I couldn't help but think of things I would have changed. The first of those will have been achieved by the time you see this: getting you home a little early and saving those like Tuvok, Chakotay, and Seven from the cruel fates awaiting them.
It took me ten years, even with daily contact with Starfleet during the last three, to get official promotions for my crew. Considering the size of the ship, and the inability to assign any more of the duties that would normally accompany a promotion, Starfleet held off. There were plenty of good people, like Harry, who waited patiently for far too long. He deserves to be promoted; they all do.
Of course, you are returning to a Federation ravaged by its costly war with the Dominion. I returned to a safer, happier, more prosperous Federation. They may need your officers now more than they needed mine. Either way, make it happen!
But, be wary of your own promotions. I was ready to be an admiral by the time I reached Earth. Of course, as soon as I no longer had a starship to command, I missed it. I became more an administrator and less an explorer.
Over the years, I became good friends with Jean-Luc Picard. He told me about an encounter he once had with the legendary James Kirk. Kirk told Picard to never let himself be promoted, transferred, or anything else that would take him off the bridge of his ship. 'While you're there,' Kirk said, 'you can make a difference.'
Although it may seem tame when compared to your last mission, there are still wonders to be explored within known space. Don't leave that to the young. Take them with you, Kathryn, but walk the stars yourself for as long as you can.
In short, keep exploring – explore domestic territory as well as space. By the time I got Voyager home, I was a little too old, and a little too used to being 'the Captain.' I don't regret the decision to deny myself the luxury of becoming romantically involved with anyone under my command, but I do regret not returning home earlier and having the opportunity to find someone to grow old with.
I came to your time to save you, to save myself, as much as I did to save the others. I remember how much you rely on your independence, and how long you've been the final authority and held yourself to very high, strict standards. But trust me. After all, if you can't trust yourself . . ."
"Who can I trust?" Captain Janeway whispered in response to her older self.
Admiral Janeway looked down at a PADD in her hands and sighed. When she raised her eyes to the screen again, a sad smile crossed her face.
"The second gift is a holo-photo, which you will find at the end of this message. I left the same photo for my Tuvok, back . . . in another time. Your holo has one variation, though. With the computer's help, I added Kes to the group. In this picture, the family is complete. Good-bye, Kathryn."
As Captain Janeway watched, the Admiral's image disappeared, replaced by a holo-photo of the completed family.
Her family.