Interlude

13 December 2337

As I write the date I can't help but marvel at using the old style Terran calendar again. I'm so used to keeping a log; not writing my thoughts at the end of the day has been too strange. Somehow Kyle knew and as a joke got me this antique journal with real paper and this beautiful gold pen. So it's fitting, then, that I should use the old style date; fitting too that it should be my first time celebrating St Lucia's day since I was a little girl. Of course, we didn't really celebrate it; there's no girl in this family to dress in white and weave a laurel to put in her hair. The idea of getting Billy to sit still long enough to put a laurel wreath in his curls is enough to make me want to laugh out loud. He'd probably eat it, the silly thing. Isn't laurel poisonous? (Note to self: make sure all winter celebrations do not include poisonous greenery.)

But we lit candles in the windows and we went to the celebration in the gym at the school. The amazing thing about living in a community where everyone is either Scandinavian or Russian is that there are so many reasons to celebrate at this time of year. Kyle, of course, didn't see the need to offer prayers to St Lucia, but I explained to him that the holiday is not really so much offering prayers to some dubious child-saint but the idea of keeping light in the darkest time of the year, the week before the winter solstice, when there's just the half-light that constitutes day both here and in Scandinavia. Anyway, Billy liked the lights, and he sat like a big boy on my lap for most of the ceremony. Afterwards, we met up with Vera and Greg and their three, Georgie and Pete and Rosie, and Billy and Rosie sort of sat on the floor and looked at each other and it was so cute. Then out of nowhere Billy got up and started running around in circles, and the next thing we knew it was utter chaos. Kyle grabbed Billy and told him no in a very stern voice, and Billy burst into tears and then it was obvious it was time to go home.

Despite an overtired toddler, it was a good day, and it made me wish that in a year or two there could be a sister for Billy, one who would wear a white dress and carry the candles. I always thought I'd have a daughter – I'd even thought about names once, asking Kyle what he thought about Julianna, because it's both Norwegian and Dutch. But that won't ever happen, and I suppose I shouldn't dwell on it. I'm lucky to have Billy, lucky to still be here to watch him grow.

22 December

I begged and begged – what an odd concept that is, me who has run a starship and who can make men quake in their boots – and Kyle finally relented and said we could have a few friends over to celebrate Christmas. Of course, we'll be going to Nan's for Russian Christmas; it's been years since I've been able to join the family for any celebration, let alone this one. But I wanted to invite just a few of the friends that I'd had in school, hoping that Kyle would meet a few of the guys, like Greg Kalugin and Marty Shugak and Tony Jesperssen. He's so shy, and this is such a close-knit community, and I never expected that he'd agree to come back here but it's so important, for Billy, that Kyle make some effort to know people here. He'll need them, when I'm gone.

27 December

So much has happened. I wanted to get it all down before I forget it, before the meds kick in and everything becomes so hazy. I never knew it would happen so fast. I thought I'd have a couple years. I thought I'd see Billy safely out of babyhood and off to kindergarten. I look at him, and I try not to think it, but it's so hard, knowing that he'll never remember me. He won't know that it was me who held him, and me who nursed him, and me who sang him to sleep at night. I've asked Kyle to be sure to tell him these things, so he'll know that even if he doesn't remember me, I was there, and I loved him.

We were getting ready for the party. The cabin looked great – despite Kyle saying that these things didn't mean much he'd done such a good job at decorating. The tree was perfect, and there was a candle in each window, and the whole cabin smelled of allspice and cinnamon and greenery. The best was that he'd found some old fashioned Christmas music – where he'd found it I have no idea – and so it was playing and the house smelled like sugar cookies and eggnog and Christmas.

Kyle had to go out, and Billy and I were in the kitchen. He's such a little helper, always wanting to do whatever I'm doing. I was polishing the last of the silver, and that old song "Silver Bells" was playing, and Billy was sitting on the counter "helping" me polish the last of the fancy spoons. I'd given him a cloth and a spoon – of course I hadn't given him any polish, not with the way he puts things in his mouth – and he was rubbing the spoon and swinging his legs against the counter in time to the music and even though he'd never heard this song before he was humming along with the singers.

And everything was so right. I could almost pretend I had a future, even if it wasn't going to be in Starfleet anymore.

And then I felt a little dizzy, and then the blood was gushing out of my nose, and I can remember thinking that I couldn't fall, because if I did, it would leave Billy by himself on the counter, and what would happen if he fell, with Kyle not back, and I could hear Billy screaming over and over and over. I must have managed to pick him up and place him on the floor, because that's where Kyle found us, Billy huddled next to me as I did my damnedest not to bleed out on our kitchen floor.

6 January

I've got the nurse writing this for me. All those years, at the Academy and then on one ship after another, I'd longed to have just one more Christmas at home with my nan and my cousins and all the aunties, Auntie Tasya and Auntie Raisa and everyone. And here I am in the hospital, instead of Nan's house. Kyle is here, but he left Billy with Auntie Tasya, who's promised me that she'll take care of him.

I won't feel sorry for myself. My people, the Norwegians and the Russians and the Aleut, are all strong, tough people who never gave up in the face of forces outside their control. I'm losing this battle but I don't have to act like a mainlander about it. I'm still Lt Commander Elizaveta Christianssen Riker, even if I do weigh half what I used to.

I remember Nan told me about her younger brother that she lost. What was his name again? I can't seem to remember now. Anyway, they'd been travelling along the river, close to break-up, and one minute her brother was there, standing beside
her, and the next minute he was gone. There wasn't even a chance to try to save him, all she could do was walk home and let her mother know what had happened. In a way it was like that for me. One minute I'm on a routine mission, and the next minute I'm infected with a virus that changed my whole world.

I've asked Kyle to bring Billy the next time he comes, but Kyle is reluctant. He says that Billy's not sleeping, and that he's fractious, and that he'll tire me out. I want to tell him that of course Billy's not sleeping, we'd only just gotten him settled in his new bed, and he was used to me tucking him in, and reading him a book, and singing to him, and I'm not there. Kyle's promised that he's doing the same bedtime ritual, but it's normal that Billy won't understand. It would be better if Kyle would bring him, so he can see me here and know that this is where I am, but he's so stubborn, so sure he's right, that it's better for Billy not to see me like this, even if he won't remember anything about this at all, and he's right, I'm just too tired to fight it. But I'd just like to hold Billy one more time.

16 January 2338

Betty died this morning.

She asked me to save this.

What am I going to do?