One Last Time
A short Voyager fic by Lt Taya 17 Janeway aka TaTTooGaL™
Author's note: Someone once requested for a story where Voyager gets back to the Alpha Quadrant, so since I can't think of any storyline to do with that yet, Paramount is probably going to beat me to it. Thus this will have to do. It's mostly mush anyway… so get your tissues ready :)
She was having tea with Tuvok when she dropped the bombshell. "They're decommissioning Voyager," she said. It was a rainy afternoon in San Francisco, and the silhouette of the Golden Gate Bridge could be seen from the rooftop terrace of the Starfleet Academy cafeteria. Around them milled eager young cadets, Starfleet's next generation of hope, oblivious to the discomfort of one Starfleet admiral and her cherished friend.
He a silent for a moment as he considered her, then he nodded in response. "It does not surprise me." He paused, then continued, "The ship has had no real purpose since she returned from the Delta Quadrant. She would be worth more to Starfleet as a static exhibit than on an endless tour of the Alpha and Beat Quadrants. Our pace of technological development is accelerating; it would only be a matter of time before Starfleet decided to commission a new ship whilst scrapping an old one."
She took the brutal truth of his statements silently. "She's docked at the Utopia Planitia spaceyards now. Chakotay and I are going out to … visit her one last time tomorrow. We were wondering if you'd like to come."
Tuvok regarded his friend for a moment. "Unlike humans, I do not develop undue attachment to inanimate objects. However, I have observed that you place great importance on the sentimental value of certain such items, and I would be honored to accompany you on your… visit." He looked as pained as a Vulcan ever would be. "Unfortunately, my schedule conflicts with your plans, and I am unable to join you."
She nodded, understanding, her smoky blue eyes full of regret. "So I suppose it'll just be the two of us, then."
******
She was hanging, sleek and silver, in the hold of the spacedock, just as she had been when Janeway had first set her eyes on her. She remembered that day, so many years ago, with absolute precise clarity, when she'd first seen the ship; she remembered the stunned silent awe in which she regarded the ship that would be hers, reverently admiring her size, her beauty. It had been a start of a new life, one that would end here today. As their shuttle approached Voyager, Janeway could appreciate how much had changed between then and now. Even the ship herself was different. Back then she had been brand new, a blade of light and promise, harboring within herself so much potential, so much life. Now she was back her, a grand old dame, battle-scarred and worn, all that potential within her lived through in a legacy which would always endure.
The shuttle pilot told her that she wasn't the only ones who had come. In the day before there had been many others: yesterday it was Tom, B'Elanna, and Seven with their children, then there was Sam and Naomi the day before. So many of the crew had come back and brought their children to see this ship, this vessel which had immeasurably changed their lives.
Stepping out into the shuttlebay felt like coming home after a long time. She stood with Chakotay in the vast open space, glancing at the familiar lines. It had been too long.
The shuttle pilot remained in his vessel as Janeway and Chakotay took a slow walk around the ship. Just walking along the corridors brought back so many memories. She looked around her, tyring as hard to remember, trying to imprint every last nook and cranny into her mind, so that she'd never forget what this ship looked like, or what it had felt like. It was an intense feeling of loss. Every junction, every Jefferies tube looked so familiar, like old friends. Her hand kept straying out to touch control panels, the bulkheads, the world around her. Everywhere she went surface another memory, another time, another place. She saw people walking down the corridors, she saw the joy and laughter as well as the tears and hurt. Chakotay held her hand tight as they reminisced about the past.
They went to Engineering, and it was silent. The mighty warp core, which had brought them faithfully across seventy thousand light years, was dark and inactive. She stood in the center of the bottom deck and looked upwards, remembering the times she and B'Elanna had spent in here overnight, working feverishly to solve some engineering problem or the other. It had been a place for the building of friendships, between Seven and B'Elanna, a place where the whole of the Engineering section had called home turf for better part of seven years. They had owned it, and now it was about to be lost to them.
Back to the corridors, down to the Mess Hall. She could see the evidences of their work over the years, the sweat and toil they'd put into the ship, repairing it, tending and caring for it. She remembered every scar, every hastily-patched hull breach. It was as if all those years of love and care were going down the drain, amounting to nothing. After tomorrow it would no longer matter that she and Tuvok had spent a whole sleepless night trying to devise a way to repair a hull breach on deck eleven without any of the requisite materials- and they had done it, mind you.
The Mess Hall was now completely empty- the crews working in the shipyard had already removed all the furniture. Now they stood in the middle of an empty space, a space which used to be the social center for a hundred and fifty people, a space where they'd celebrated, bonded over coffee; a space where they'd shared not just meals but their problems and their lives; a space where marriages had taken place; a space where anybody could come to ease their problems away. To them, the Mess Hall hadn't been merely just a space, it had been their refuge, their hiding place, their haven. She still missed that special ambience, Neelix's cheerful greetings and updates in the mornings over coffee, the late nights curled up on the gray overstuffed couch, the parties they'd had in here.
"I want to take a look at the bridge," said Chakotay at length.
She was reluctant to go. It was an odd paradoxical feeling; that was the main reason she'd come back to this ship, yet she kept trying to delay it. She didn't want the visit to end just yet. She didn't want to leave.
The turbolifts were still working, so they took one up to the bridge. As it started moving she closed her eyes and at that moment she could just imagine that things were still the way they were, that she was still the captain of the ship, and the moment she was out on the bridge she'd still see Tuvok at Tactical, his presence as solid as a rock, Harry working at Ops, Tom making smart remarks from the fore of the bridge, and the starfield on the viewscreen like a school of silver fish, bringing them closer and closer to Earth.
The turbolift door slid open and she was standing on the bridge, emptier and more forlorn than she'd ever seen it. She walked slowly to the center of the bridge slowly, retracing the familiar footsteps, remembering, always remembering. She gazed around her, at the center of her life for those tumultous seven years. This was a piece of her life she'd never be able to forget. This place had more impact on her than any other ever would. Now when she saw the bridge she didn't just see an empty room with so many chairs and consoles; she saw the people who'd once worked there. She looked at the viewscreen and remembered all the times when she'd stared at it, angry or upset that there were others who ould be unreasonable, and other times when she'd simply stared in wonder at the beauty of the universe unfolding before her.
She closed her eyes, and in that moment, standing on the bridge as she always did with Chakotay beside her, she could almost hear Voyager sing to her. She always imagined that the ship did, as she lay on her bed trying to sleep, or as she mused at the stars, contemplating life. It was this combination of the warp core's thrum and the auxiliary engines and the gentle murmuring of the crew and the movement of the deckplates. At nights back on Earth all she had to do was to close her eyes and imagine and she could almost hear that familiar sound again, Voyager's lullaby to her. And when she was drifting in that window of ennui between sleep and awareness, she imagined that she could actually sing it.
"It's a pity, isn't it, that all this is going to be gone by tomorrow," said Chakotay softly.
Janeway opened her eyes, moist, and nodded. "We'll always have the memories," she whispered. "It's her legacy." She turned and walked towards the captain's seat, and even before she sat on it she could already imagine the firmness of the leather beneath her. She remembered so clearly how it felt like, or the wheezing sound of air being compressed as she sat down. Many others had sat in this chair for brief periods after her, but it had belonged to her and her only. She sat down slowly in the seat, painfully aware that it would be the last time she would ever do so, yet so glad that she at least had been granted the chance to relive the memories at least. Chakotay sat beside her in his chair, holding her hand.
As they sat, Voyager suddenly seemed to change around her. For a brief, shining moment, the world thrummed to life, as if they were back in the Delta Quadrant again. The engines were ready and prepped, the crew were at their stations, and the course had been set for home. Ahead of them would be nothing but trials and hardship, but they were resilient and adaptable and they could overcome anything as one crew. Silently, she gave the command to Paris to go to warp.
The ship would be gone by the next day, nothing but just a memory in the heads of those who'd been sheltered and nurtured by her, but in that short glorious moment she was once again Captain Kathryn Janeway's starship, and the two of them soared as one, as they had, and always would.
The End
Postscript: Actually this idea kind of got started when my friend mentioned that they'd taken down the sets for Voyager during the last tape-viewing session we had, and I thought it must have been incredibly sad for them. I mean, this is something you've been working on for the past seven years, and now it's going to be taken down and everything… I'd have cried. I could almost imagine KM or any of the cast just standing in the middle of the bridge on the last day of filming and staring at the set for the last time, or something. So I just decided to write this. And I shouldn't have listened to the theme for What You Leave Behind while writing this, because I dang near wound up crying a few times myself. Silly me. (Yes, I'm one of those annoying people who are sniffling all though any vaguely sentimental part of a movie- I mean, I even cried when Data found Spot in Generations, for goodness' sake… Geez!)
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