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No Satisfaction
She had studied human history for a very long time, but it was her personal history that interested her now. It had been eighty-eight years, three hundred and twelve days, and five point three hours since she had been severed from the Collective. In all that time, she had never ceased to study human history. Through this study, she learned that humans never wanted to die alone.
Ironic, since she had spent many of those first years not wanting to be alone, and now she preferred it, because there was nobody with whom she had anything remotely in common. In trying to avoid loneliness she had sought out romantic affiliation twice. The first time was with Chakotay, a man worthy of more than she could give. He expressed sorrow when she terminated their relationship, but had moved on, as had she. They remained friends until she left altogether. Disgusted by Starfleet's persistence in treating her like an experiment and piece of property, she left Federation space. Several years later, she had what she thought was a romance with a man named Seth Hilbern. He terminated their relationship two days after they consummated it; later she found out that his goal, for the months they dated, was solely to get her in bed.
She never bothered to tell him that the impossible had happened, and thus he had no knowledge of their daughter. It was better that way. Her daughter would be hers alone. She named her Kathryn, after the woman who had seen potential in a drone.
She would think of them, from time to time. She would think of the Doctor, who removed all external implants from her over a period of three weeks, despite his misgivings about the risks she was willing to take, and despite the fact that once she could blend in, he would never see her again. She would think of Kathryn Janeway, once her captain, who caught wind of her plan and silently handed her a small briefcase containing a hologram of the senior staff of Voyager, and gold-pressed latinum. She thought of Chakotay, who had no doubt been informed of her plan, when he hugged her and wished her well.
The others she thought of as well. Tuvok and their shared affinity for silence. Neelix and his uncontrollable enthusiasm. Harry Kim, who had been among the first to see her as an individual and peer. Naomi Wildman and the kadis-kot games they had shared. B'Elanna Torres, with whom she had hardly ever agreed but respected for her intelligence. Tom Paris and his affection for all things from Earth's 20th century. Icheb, who had made a fine Starfleet science officer. Yes, she remembered them all. But the Doctor, Chakotay, and Kathryn Janeway she remembered most, because they cared enough for her to let her go. They knew that she had to be free.
She recharged her Borg components using a small headrest that looked utterly unimpressive. That was the wonder of it. Twice she had been forced to use it on a transport shuttle, and nobody had ever been the wiser. Freedom from her alcove was the final step to complete freedom.
Freedom she had, but she never again found the sense of family and purpose she had shared on Voyager. Not until Kathryn was born did she even think it was possible. Her daughter became her universe. For twenty years she cared for her, adapting to her changing needs. When she left home, she left behind a mother without a sense of purpose. Harriet Ackerman, who had been Seven of Nine, who had been Annika Hansen, wept. Those years were the closest she ever had to the time she spent on Voyager. Kathryn was not especially close to her mother, although later in her life, when she was told of her mother's past, she was more forgiving than she had been as a teenager. After Kathryn left, she accepted loneliness as a companion in its own right.
She once met B'Elanna Torres on a transport. She was traveling away from Kagla, the planet she called home, because she needed to do something in the days after Kathryn left. The fiery former engineer was en route to visit cousins in the Klingon Empire, something she felt compelled to do, and do alone, without her husband of nearly thirty years. The two women talked for several hours, fondly recalling adventures in the Delta Quadrant.
B'Elanna had told her she deserved more in life. "It's not fair, Sev-Anni- it's just not right. Your life is too tragic."
"Life is not fair, B'Elanna," she had remarked, forcing herself not to call the other woman "lieutenant." "I have had many years to come to terms with that truth."
"Do you think it's been long enough to come back? You deserve to be happy."
"Perhaps I do, perhaps I do not. Either way, it is irrelevant."
"You don't still feel guilty about the stuff you did, do you? It wasn't you."
"Guilt of that magnitude never truly goes away. I have accepted my past and my present."
"And your future?"
"I do not think of it often."
"I wish things were different."
"As do I, but that does not change circumstances."
"I hope you find your peace," B'Elanna said before leaving the transport to catch another. It was the last contact she ever had with anyone from the best years of her life.
Over time she adapted to the absence of a purpose in her life. She grew whatever food she needed, and the rest of her not inconsiderable energy she focused on learning as much as she could. When Kathryn returned to visit her mother, in between archaeological digs, she found a busy woman. Later, her two grandsons would visit, and she spoiled them as was appropriate for any grandmother. To her adult great-grandchildren, however, she became irrelevant. To their children, she would be merely a face in the family holo-album.
Her remaining implants, the internal ones, prolonged her life. She studied for a great many years, although knowledge was not as fulfilling as she had long ago hoped. And when she knew that even the implants could not sustain her much longer, she journeyed back into Federation space. Right into Sector 001. Nobody questioned an old human woman. She was tempted to use her given name, suspecting that none of the security personnel would recall Annika Hansen's status as an escapee. In the end, she gave her name as Harriet Ackerman out of habit and the need to complete her final mission.
Even the Doctor was gone; deactivated permanently, at his own request, ten years prior. Apparently Starfleet was all too happy to oblige. The only other surviving individual who had been with Voyager in the Delta Quadrant was Miral Paris, although she technically had been born in transwarp.
So, carefully bypassing security, she visited the ship itself during the night. Voyager stood alone in a magnificent room in the Archer Museum. Seemingly of their own accord, her feet took her to Astrometrics. Here she stood and remembered. Without thinking, she input her code, and the console lit up. It was astounding that Starfleet had never deactivated command codes.
She scrolled through charts from their journey. While she did so, she remembered again. A presentation from the Doctor's holocamera came to mind, and she called up the file. Charts danced across half the screen, and the other half showed images of people long dead.
Picture One: Herself, as she had looked aboard Voyager. After so many years, it was a surprise to see an image where she still had external implants. He had taken the picture without her knowledge as she entered Sickbay.
Picture Two: An annoyed-looking Tom Paris, holding a hypospray in one hand and a medkit in the other. He wore only one pip on his collar.
Picture Three: Naomi Wildman, smiling and holding her Flotter doll.
Picture Four: The Delany sisters. Jenny held two finger behind her twin's head in what Tom Paris referred to as "bunny ears."
Picture Five: A nebula outside of the messhall, with Neelix standing in front of the window.
Picture Six: B'Elanna Torres and Vorik hunched over consoles in Engineering.
Picture Seven: Joe Carey walking in front of the warp core.
Picture Eight: Tuvok walking into Sickbay.
Picture Nine: Kathryn Janeway walking down the corridor, mug of coffee in hand. Steam could be seen rising from the drink.
Picture Ten: Chakotay sitting in the mess hall, looking deep in thought.
Picture Eleven: The Doctor himself, sitting in his office. Presumably the image was captured by Tom Paris.
Picture Twelve: Tuvok raising his eyebrow during one of Neelix's parties. Behind him, Celes Tal laughed.
Picture Thirteen: Harry Kim playing his clarinet at the party.
Picture Fourteen: Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres, deep in discussion.
Picture Fifteen: Neelix with a spatula in hand.
Picture Sixteen: Chell walking down the corridor holding a padd.
Picture Seventeen: Herself again, tricorder in hand, on a planet.
Picture Eighteen: Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay, and Tom Paris laughing. Tuvok looked on with a raised eyebrow.
Picture Nineteen: The Kim-Tones practicing.
Picture Twenty: Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres holding hands in the mess hall.
Picture Twenty-One: Samantha and Naomi Wildman in the holodeck, with Flotter in the background.
She looked at every one of the two hundred and seventeen images. When there were none left, she looked at a few more star charts.
Sol was just rising in the San Francisco sky when she began to feel tired. After looking at a few more charts, she decided to sit down, just for a moment. It was good to be on Voyager again. At last, as B'Elanna had said decades ago, she had found her peace. She slipped into a dream, and then beyond.
Ian Rostin noticed an odd power signature from a displayed ship when he began preparing the Archer Museum for the day. He decided to investigate the Voyager exhibit personally, since the only way the readings could be explained was that systems were in use.
When he walked into Astrometrics, he saw a star chart on the viewscreen. That startled him, but it wasn't until he found an old woman wearing a contended half-smile that he called his superior. She had obviously been stunning once, although he realized that she was dead. He tapped the console. It had been accessed under codes belonging to Seven of Nine. He thought of the holograms of Seven of Nine the museum used, and looked at the woman again. Could it be?
The old doors slid open. "How did this lapse in security happen?" bellowed his superior upon entering.
He was looking at the accessed files- nothing of any great importance in any of them. Yes, it could be. "She knew the ship better than we do," he said. "She wasn't breaking in. She was saying goodbye."