Tracing back on
Tomorrow
By Manda (Mizuno Ami)
I remember the day- quite well, surprisingly, for a
'woman of my age' whose life has taken so many dramatic turns in so many short
amounts of time. Voyager leaving the Alpha Quadrant with no warning, meeting
the Maquis…working alongside some of the most remarkable individuals I have
ever been granted the pleasure to know.
"These should be familiar images to everyone who
remembers the U.S.S Voyager's triumphant return to Earth after twenty-three
years in the Delta Quadrant."
I
remember Voyager swooping over the Golden Gate, Tom's triumphant smile as he
turned his head to give us an update.
"Captain, we're clearing the bay…making our approach."
"Land us in the Square, Tom. Take us home."
At
the time, I could recall everything that had led up to that very moment, but
years create cobwebs that can't always be broken. With these memories came melancolia, triumph, and a miriad of
other emotions that I tried so very often to forget. In my hand I held my
coffee cup which had come with me from my ready room onboard Voyager, with
dents of hardship and turmoil brandishing it's once proud and shining exterior. My San Fransisco apartment was around me,
and I stood alone…living in comfort with an Admiral's rank and priveledges. It
has always taken so much for me not to smile at those words 'rank and
priveledge', for with an Admiral's rank comes a burden of responsibilties,
meetings, cocktail parties…and the duty of telling so many families that they
will never see their loved ones again. Owen had that unpleasant job, twenty-two
years ago. One year after we vanished, and I know he spoke to my mother.
More background rambling- I could recall that one reporter
so vividly, his eagerness to get the whole picture clouded by the reluctance of
my crew and myself to speak anymore of the subject. We just wanted to get home.
That was all we'd ever wanted. And once we were, it seemed to me that
there was nothing left to be home for.
"Computer, end display." Enough. I'd had enough of the
memories and the recollections, and returned to my coffee…and my thoughts, out
the window, in the rain.
He stood in the midst of a crowd, familiar shapes
surrounding him and making him feel as if he were truly back in his home of
twenty-three years, of fond farewells, and for a moment as he sat at a nearby
table, he felt that he should order a bowl of tomato soup with a former convict…and
talk.
"You look sad." A young face at his elbow, and he looked
into eyes of smoky blue, glistening as they peered over a button-nose and soft
spikes which blended downward into a face so perfectly innocent in childhood.
The young girl…familiar…
"Hello." He greeted her, glad indeed for the distraction
which drew away the old ghosts. Just for a moment. They studied each other in a
pause and she spoke again, leading him further into his hypothesis as to who
she was.
"What's your name?"
"Harry." Again, he paused, studying a face so eerily
familiar, contemplating a persona too déjà vu to not make sense to his
memory. Taking in the forehead, the ridge, the smile…I know this face.
"What's yours?"
"Sabrina." She was Naomi's daughter, and his heart
constricted as he thought of how the young Naomi had been so eager when she'd
begun to grow up onboard Voyager- they'd all been vital in teaching her about
anything and everything. And she asked…she'd never stopped asking. He'd admired
that, perhaps more than anything he had ever grown to admire about the little
girl. Sabrina vanished within a moment,
and he flashed back to a memory, taking place in that very room- not that very
room, but one so much like it. These reunions…every year a new idea, and this
year…this year, Starfleet Command had hand-picked an Intrepid class starship
from the fleet yards, temporarily christening a formerly known U.S.S Regayov to
become the U.S.S Voyager. It seemed fitting to have a ten year anniversary apon
a ship bearing the name of their twenty-three year home.
"Here you are, Captain." The voice that met his ears as Sabrina ran for her mother was one
he hadn't heard in four years, and in four years he hadn't forgotten the deep,
velvety tones of his former captain. A
woman he'd viewed as not only a commanding officer, but who'd been a close
friend for so many years of his life.
Admiral Kathryn Janeway herself, having grown old…. yet not
changed. As he accepted the champange
flute, Harry Kim smiled, eyes turning toward the disappearing Sabrina.
"Thank you, Admiral…I haven't seen her since she was a
baby." He missed that, watching Sabrina grow up through four years of reunions,
at every one she would have been a year older…a year wiser…having a year to
look more and more like her mother. Janeway's gaze followed, and for a moment
Harry wondered about whether she'd ever wanted children. Had she considered
it…had Naomi's birth triggered something within her. So many years of
being a captain…motherly….It felt familiar for a moment, comfortable as she
stood with him and watched. As if those years had never gone by, and she was
watching his Ops display back on Voyager…with everyone aboard.
Talk. Always the talk.
He had so much to catch up on, and through speaking about Tuvok…his
illness, his misfortune… Harry wanted so much to avoid what he knew he had to
say. Eventually. Her eyes told him it was a precious subject,
mentioned less and less every year, yet not quite ready to leave her thoughts.
"I'm sorry I missed the funeral. I should have been there."
You should have. Her eyes told him what her lips
wouldn't form, what her voice couldn't bring forth into the open. She sipped her drink, eyes low and sullen,
the air having grown tense within that moment.
One moment, he'd learned, could change a lifetime.
"You
were on a mission. Everyone understood." What we all would have given to
have there not be a funeral at all., she thought. How much could I have done to keep that funeral from becoming
a reality…key moments, if I'd reacted differently…The mention of that day
stirred memories, stirred up decades of feelings she didn't understand, didn't
want to understand.
Did I understand at all…why did you have to die? How did
I miss that?
We saw the Doctor, married now, and with his surprisingly
human wife, Lana. He walked her though Sickbay, the old times recollected over
a cup of coffee, glass of apple juice for the two-week bride. The Doctor- Joe,
I suppose- found amusement in Tom's reaction to his new name. It was Lana's
grandfather. I couldn't believe it myself, when I heard it. Joe. Just
call me Joe. The laughter…My eyes teared at the amount of laughter I myself
gave forth, and I knew that if laughter were really that healthy, I'd live
forever.
"You still haven't told me why you're trying to help
Korath." B'Elanna accosted me en route to the 'mess hall', and we sidestepped
into a corridor, casual talk as the two of us leaned against a bulkhead.
Relaxing as if we'd never left. I had relations with the Klingon homeworld, and
B'Elanna's special interest..namely her daughter, Miral…left me with the option
of including her in those relations as much as possible. Klingon politics- my interests had since
traveled away from starcharts, anomalies, and the distant reaches…to something
I considered to be a little more…robust. Or so I hoped they would believe. I
know you, Kathryn.
And I know you. I won't back down. Not yet.
"He's
an old friend." I was tired…tired of everything, and they always knew that
eventually I would snap. My day had come…and I'd gone full circle. From Kathryn
Janeway, the Kathryn who stood in that corridor and allowed Noah Lessing to
stare into the face of death…to Kathryn Janeway who'd be damned if her life
would spin out of control. Be damned if the man who meant more to her than her
own life would die due to some mistake she'd overlooked. Some choice she'd
wrongfully made in her early days, before greying hair and the possibility of
mental instability. I wasn't crazy, wasn't
delusional…I wanted my life back. I wanted that control over what I did have
left.
Miral's out there. Miral Paris, daughter of Tom and
B'Elanna, awaited so eagerly by her godfather and the family who was there for
her during her development, during the time her mother so deeply craved fresh
gagh and banana pancakes. When there
was no syrup and emotions were high…we expected Miral to come out screaming for
her bananas and her klingon cuisine.
But no, she came out at the moment we broke the ribbon on the finish
line, the moment our struggle for home and hearth came to an end. She marked the final voyage, and to think of
her made my heart ache for that former home. I've assigned Miral- being the
Admiral that I am- to the Klingon homeworld to take charge of
Klingon-Federation relations. She has her mother's spirit- any other officer…I
had my doubts at first, and they were quickly, readily abandoned.
"Ten years ago tonight, this crew returned home from the
longest away mission in Starfleet's history." I hadn't even noticed that Reg
was preparing to speak…I turned, not wanting to, but for appearance sake. It
came with the uniform…appearance. The formalities, the dances, the endless
parades of service medals, awarding us the Cochrane medal of honor for the most
historic journey on record. Finding the Equinox, and although they were
destroyed…for aiding Captain Ransom in remembering. And we brought home the
Equinox crew…for that, we were commended. Commended, given what we were 'due'.
It was all exhausting, and endless.
I turned to Reg, watching his eager face light up as he was
given the honor of delivering yet another speech to his 'family', for yet
another one of our pompous meetings to aid in the manifestation that I and my
crew were happy. Happy that yet another length of time had passed and so many
of us were alive to enjoy…I chuckled. To enjoy it.
"Twenty-three years together made you a family."
Family. With so many missing members…oh, I wish they
weren't…
"So
let's raise our glasses…to the journey." The tear that balanced perfectly in my
eye was small, un-noticable to those who stood nearby. And I raised my glass,
fingers trembling as they grasped the thin stem of the flute, as they curled
about it and held on tight. Some stablility…at that instant, I felt I needed it
dearly.
We were strangers starting out on our journey
Never dreaming what we'd have to go through.
Now here we are, and I'm suddenly standing
At the beginning with you.
"Ladies
and gentlemen, meet the Borg." With cocktails before dinner. I was
reminded of the days when my mother taught Phoebe and I manners…to a young
child, manners are quite the struggle. Do you say 'please' and 'thank you', or
just take what you want and leave? Kathryn, Phoebe, meet Admiral Drake.
"Pleased to meet you, Admiral." I could remember the pride
in Daddy's eyes as I would curtsey the way Mommy taught me to. Mommy had
thought I'd died so long ago…she'd been alone once I'd left, with Phoebe
married to a young artist…I can never remember his name, but I know that I
enjoyed his company and hers, very much. When Blanca had her pups…Phoebe named
one of them Kathryn and gave it to my mother, claiming that along with Molly's
pup- a gift from Mark- that she would never be lonely again. How I would have given anything to see those
pups when they were born, so moist and innocent.
The
students watched me, curiously, and I imagined what I would have thought to
have a speaker who was considered to be so…notable. We hadn't been able to meet
any of the heroes when I was a cadet. No, Admiral McCoy was never in good
health…he lived well and with several different artificial hearts, but never
would he speak to Academy classes. Admiral Uhura…she was scheduled, once, but
called away on an emergency involving…the name always escaped me, but I
recalled that it was something russian, perhaps. These cadets watched me with curiosity matching that with which I
watched them…and the classroom was rife with freshness. I turned to listen more clearly to Reg,
giving off his first colorful narration of the Borg Collective. He saw me, too, through eyes of awe-inspired
eagerness. A hero among the want-to-be. Not me, not I, Kathryn Janeway,
although I had fought the Borg, had allied with them…nearly broken bread
with them, if I could have. I've lived
long enough…the memories were sore, my backbone- it never recovered. I wanted to call out, tell them that I was
never alone through this, I hadn't pushed nyself out of the stupor, yanked
myself out of the void. I had help…help from a man whose life I wanted to insist
be honored in the classroom. In every
classroom on every corner of the globe, on every Academy campus. For his
generosity, his spirit- he died for what he loved, for whom he loved. His wife.
I never wanted to think about that aspect-about why, and…how.
"This semester, we are very fortunate to have a special
guest lecturer- the woman who literally wrote the book on the Borg: Admiral
Kathryn Janeway." Wasn't that Picard? I'm not sure…it couldn't have been me.
I wrote nothing…and left no legacy. Reg's voice awakened something, and I
rose to meet the podium. Another challenge to overcome.
But I only did what anyone would have done. It was in my
blood. In Starfleet.
"I'm
glad to be here." Am I? I felt a sudden isolation, Reg standing still
behind me…and I began to speak, letting all of my knowledge mask the uneasiness
that I wanted to push away. And I succeeded in pushing.
The key card slid easily into the slot and I pushed in
quickly, tossing a satchel of padds onto the sofa and moving for my kitchen.
Coffee. Once I'd contemplated giving it up…but only once, and very
briefly. The sun had set over San
Fransisco long before I had decided to abandon the gathering and go home…to my
empty apartment. It was one of many regrets I faced.
My console beeped and I moved to it, ready to answer some
pointless message from any of the reporters who tended to frequent my area…
Or perhaps…I scarsely stopped to believe that it could have
been anyone from Voyager…so many were at the party, and otherwise throughout
the year we rarely kept in contact with one another. I felt remorse about that more than anything at all.
"Mother." My mother,
Gretchen Janeway herself….old, indeed, as the ravages of time had taken over so
fiercely, and as she's always liked to say 'No one can live forever'.
"Kathryn, how was it?" She knew of the
reunions….although with the shape she was in, I often admitted to being a bit
surprised. Mommy never believed in replicators when we were growing up, and no
matter how I mentioned it, she refused to take on any sort of unnatural way of
living- as McCoy had his exoskeleton, and third artificial heart, Mommy had her
books and her faith in life.
"It was fine." Never better, never
worse. Always fine. "How's Phoebe?"
"She and Robert are having an art show
in Los Angeles this weekend. Her artwork is wonderful, Kathryn- have you seen
the latest?"
"I'm afraid I haven't." Family
relations were tight- my own fault, as I often did what my father had and kept
myself busy at work..almost, at times, as if I were attempting to avoid
Phoebe's helter-skelter life and family. Family…I recall at one time telling Q
that I did perhaps desire to have children, and telling Tom that I had never
imagined that I would have them with him, as I had…it was peculiar, and made
every tendril of my thinking seem…confuddled. "When will she be displaying
them?"
"Tomorrow. At the gallery in
So-ho." So-ho was one of my sisters favorite places to display her work-
rather, she preferred it for the so called 'inner beauty' of the town, the
people… "She'd like it if you were there, Kathryn."
"I'll try." But I have other things
on my mind, Mommy…my thoughts and eyes drifted toward the photograph
standing alone beside the desktop monitor- Chakotay, in open collared shirt,
standing beside a younger- and happier- version of myself, beside My willow
tree in Indiana. We'd taken a trip to see my mother- I'd wanted her to meet the
man who had kept me in line for all of those years…and she liked him. She knew
how I felt when he died, and as we looked at each other, I knew she understood
what tomorrow would mean for me.
"It's all right. I'll let her know. I
love you, Kathryn." The picture vanished, and I sat down to stare, chin in
hand, at the photograph once again. He smiled back at me, with that damned
smile of his, dimple-in-cheek, and I could remember what he'd said to me that
very day, as if it were…yesterday.
"You've gotten us home, Kathryn. And
no matter what we do from this day on…you'll always be remembered for that."
"It isn't worth being remembered…." I whispered, "If there's no
one here to remember what you contributed to it."
I knew tomorrow had to be something
better than it ever had been, and that memory gave me the strength to come up with
the idea I realized I had needed to carry out all along.
"My plan? I don't know if I have one, Chakotay…you know me-
I was always the spontaenous one, dropping my 'bombshells'." I looked down at
my current outfit- cerulean blue, coral, swirled together into a simple
pantsuit…when had I started dressing so simply? "I'm out of uniform…no
commbadge to fiddle with anymore…not today, anyway. But tomorrow…"
"Tomorrow you'll be gone, and everything will change, won' t
it?" A familiar voice behind me struck a chord, and I turned my head to the
right. The breeze came up just as she stepped into the orange glow of the
sunset, and my eyes twinkled in surprise.
"Naomi. It's been a while."
"Three weeks, Admiral. It's only been three weeks. Since the
reunion." She glanced at the object of my past attentions, and smiled…bringing
back the youth which I could remember so clearly from twenty-odd years ago.
"He's really gone. I still can't believe it, after all this time."
"Neither can I." My hands balled
into fists at my sides, fingernails digging into soft palms. "It's been longer than we think, Naomi.
Longer than it should be." I knelt at the foot of the bronze plaque, fingers
gently tracing the contours, the lines of the symbol which to me, represented
Him…his spirit, his life….the abnormal circle that ended eventually, when it
shouldn't have ended that way.
It should never have ended that way.
"Yes. I'm going away." I said it, rising once again and
watching the setting sun, feeling my raw, red eyes and brittle grey hair waving
in the gentle breeze. In the swaying of the leaves and the waving grass I saw
myself, I saw him, I saw our family, our crew, our home…and the things I had
lost when I had never even found them. "I'm
going away, and hopefully, Naomi, my going will benefit all of us for the
better."
"I can't imagine how it ever would." She couldn't suspect,
had no idea what I was planning, what I would do to ensure that we all had
happier lives.
We would all have them.
"Ten liters, and no more." I stared into the gruff,
demanding gaze of a full-fledged warrior, Klingon through-and-through, and
looking all the world as if he wanted nothing more than to snap my neck over
the price I was offering. None the
less, I needed what he had, and was forced to deal with limited resources. No
longer an Admiral…merely a former-captain with a plan formulated. All this
former captain needed to do now was carry that plan out.
"Twelve."
"Fine." It wasn't much, twelve liters of the strongest prune
juice available on earth…but yet it was what he wanted, as well as a shield
emitter. Both I could procure, and did, in exchange for something that gave
more power than Starfleet ever could have hoped to give me.
"It's a deal." There. It was sealed without a kiss, and held
as much promise. In my hands I held the
future…an alternate future which could have been if not for a few simple
choices made in the heat of the moment, as my coffee cooled and I bided my
time. Bided the time until I would change the future, change my present and be
able to see Molly's pups, see Blanca's pups…cuddle those squirming masses of
puppy in my hands…and be blissfully ignorant. Happy. That was happiness. "I
expect it to be onboard my shuttlecraft when I return at 2300, Captain."
"It will be done." Klingons were primarilly honor bound, and
I believed that it was the case in my instance…my gut feeling had never failed,
and I wasn't willing to have doubts now. Not when everything was at such high
stakes.
"Admiral." Miral met me as I strode down a corridor of
roughly hewn stone, the powdered redstone crunching beneath my boots. "There's
a subspace message for you---it's urgent."
"How did they find me?" I wasn't alarmed—amazed, perhaps, at
the ingenuity of someone whose chief concern was to find me and speak to me.
Reg knew of my whereabouts… I'd had the utmost confidence that he would retain
that knowledge. "I'll take it in your office, Miral."
"Aye, ma'am." I marched with certaintly and distinction-
only halfway did I realize that I no longer had to walk that way, did I so
desire. I was a tired woman, and left with a massive plan to carry out. The
screen in Miral's office was small, and I sat before it curiously, eyes moving
to the blinking amber light—a message coming in. For me. Urgent.
"Kathryn."
"Chakotay…" The face was grey, lined with age, and I balked
as I remembered where I had last seen it. His funeral. Before we lay his body
on a pyre and let the tongues of flame devour his body. Then I had been unable
to watch further, and moved away.
Now I couldn't move away…staring at a face that had so often
haunted me in my dreams.
I know it was difficult, living all of those years
without her.
I wish…I wish it could have been me.
"Kathryn…before
you do this—and I know what you're going to do…you've hinted at it so often
since I showed any signs of dying. You'll live forever, Kathryn Janeway…but
don't try to go back and correct anything. It can't be corrected…my last few
years may have been hard, but not lonely."
"Oh, god..." I clasped a hand over my mouth, staring at this
pre-recorded face, this image of a man who had predicted what I would do, had
paid attention to my ramblings, my 'what-if's', and 'perhaps I could's'. He
listened, and because he listened, I could hear from him one last time…before I
corrected everything.
"So listen to me, Kathryn. Listen, because I know you're
going to need some advice from your first officer now. Don't endanger hundreds
of lives…consider the repercussions of what you're going to do, and how it's
going to affect Harry, B'Elanna...Miral…Naomi. Think of what you can do with
your life now, Kathryn. Be an Admiral…I know you can do it much better
than anyone else ever can, or will." His image fell into a burst of static for
a heart-fleeting moment, then resumed, looking harrowed. "I know you're ready
to go ahead with your plan…so go, Captain Kay, and follow your trail to the
ends of the galaxy. If this works…you can thank me when you see me again."
It vanished, and my heart paused in it's beating. He'd set
it up, meaning to have it sent when I…most likely when I was set into the
Starfleet Database as 'On Leave', and to be sent to my destination. But how…
No one told me I was going to find you
Unexpected what you did to my heart
When I lost hope you were there to remind me
This is the start
"Shuttlecraft Marx to Lieutenant Paris. I'm
commensing launch sequence."
"Acknowledged,
Marx. Admiral..good luck."
I smiled, gazing down to the image of Miral Paris,
staring upward through a miniscule viewscreen. She looks so like her mother…
"Thank
you, Ensign Paris." My fingers danced over the controls, lifting me into the
cool autumn sky—I remembered Chakotay's message and was spurred onward by that
alone. I didn't care what he told me,
what he wanted me not to do…I didn't care, and carried out my plan with
the ferocity I had felt when it first became my life. "Computer, bring the temporal drive online."
"Drive
activated."
"Engage
on my mark. Bring engines to warp three, and prepare to jump. Shields up."
Shields
up! Red alert…Tom, evasive maneuvers.
Evasive maneuvers were more than I
needed right now. A steady light and shining stars to guide me.
And
today…I had only my stars.
I Life
is a road and I wanna keep going,
Love
is a river I wanna keep flowing.
Life
is a road, now and forever,
Wonderful
journey.
I'll
be there when the world stops turning,
I'll
be there when the storm is through.
In
the end I wanna be standing
At
the beginning with you.
Temporal Time Change: U.S.S Voyager, 1900
hours---nineteen years prior.
"I can't believe that." I
stood inches away from him, watching her cross her legs, as they sipped coffee and read over the
newest reports from deck below. The light was dim on their faces, starlight
from the viewport being the only way we could see anything before us. I had
enjoyed that—our long night's together just reading over reports and drinking
coffee. He always preferred tea---I couldn't understand that. We never had the
same tastes, he and I. Not in beverages, late night discussions…often he would
refute my points on some topic, and that would lead to hours of batting subject
matter to-and-fro until 0200 hours.
This
time I had planned on sleep…this time; I planned on making sure that there was
no overtired Captain on Voyager's bridge.
As
I watched from afar, something triggered the emotions that I had thought I had
lost throughout the years of being without him.
"Another
false alarm." Chakotay's voice was just as I'd remembered it to be, potent and
deep. My tether and my strength through the dark voids and lengthy battles.
"B'Elanna's threatening to decompile the Doctor if he tells her the same thing
next time."
"I
wouldn't blame her. If I were having my first baby, I imagine I would be as
nervous as-" At the mention of children I stopped, just I remembered
stopping…or, rather, she stopped. Chakotay's eyes on mine, any actions
stopping as we sat together- yet light years apart. His hand reached for hers,
and I could feel the warm breath on my cheek.
As if I were really thirty-four again, and he had never died on a bed in
a cabin on the lake—where he'd wanted to die. He'd made me promise that he
would never die in a hospital, in the Federation…that without Seven, he wanted
to die alone.
"Kathryn…"
I couldn't bring myself to watch it again, to see it rather than play a part in
this scene, which was so desperately heart wrenching. I stepped forward,
pressing a control on my tricorder that would allow the shadows to melt away, to
take my personal cloak apart and show my aged form to the two who thought they
sat alone. And with my appearance, Kathryn stood up in apprehension—and I waved
her down again.
"My
name is Admiral Kathryn Janeway---and I'm here to bring Voyager home."
Temporal Time Change: U.S.S Voyager, 0200 hours
"My
name is Admiral Kathryn Janeway---and I'm here to bring Voyager home."
The pallor of the room
had an overall tenseness as the three occupants watched each other, Chakotay
opening the door to the conversation first. I'd always admired him for that
candor, the ability to make an uncomfortable situation somewhat bearable. She
stared at me for a moment, still in shock, then turned to him as he began to
speak.
"You're
Admiral Janeway?"
"Yes, from nineteen years into
your future, Chakotay." I had to attempt to hide my pleasure at seeing him
alive again—it was difficult, and I have no doubt my emotions were visible. The
'Captain's-card-playing-face' had long since faded into history. "I've
discovered exactly what it takes to get Voyager home years in advance,
saving lives and hardships—"
"Wait just a minute," Captain
Janeway came to, regaining her senses quickly and turning to me. "You're here
to what? Bring Voyager home? That would mean that-"
"We…you…will
get home." I intervened, crossing the space between us and casually sitting
upon the couch. "In nineteen years, you will have crossed the majority of the
Delta Quadrant, and Starfleet will send a long-range tactical vessel to escort
you to the Bajoran Wormhole. Your
arrival will trigger banquets and parades—it'll all be a long-winded
celebration of your return."
"And
that's what we wanted. Our return." Captain Janeway responded, her usual
determination not withstanding. "Now, about your being here…is there any way to
send you back? Prevent any damage to the timeline without further cracking of
the Temporal Prime Directive? Seems to me that we've poked quite a few cracks
into the surface already, and I'd like to help you make a discreet exit without
making any more."
"It
isn't that simple, Captain." Was I ever that stubborn? Didn't I ever listen?
What did I accomplish with that attitude? My eyes turned toward Chakotay, body
rooted to the comfortable cushions beneath me, and I sought out assistance in
his cinnamon-brown depths. Come on, Chakotay. It's me, Kathryn…tell me you
remember…tell me you understand what I'm dealing with. I need your help.
"Captain,
I'd say she has something else to tell us." He did understand, perhaps
in his own way, without my intervention. And she listened to him, as I could
remember taking his advice to heart, whether I admitted so or not. She watched
me with scrutinizing eyes, hands perched on hips as I imagined the thoughts
running through her head. Had I been forced to deal with an unexpected Admiral
who held my identity…I would have listened to her, without question. And I
needed to express that, would she ever listen.
"Thank
you, Commander." I started to speak but she stared at me, shaking her head
defiantly, gesturing to Chakotay as she slapped her commbadge.
"I
don't know what we'll do with you, Admiral…but I'd like the Doctor to
confirm your identity before we listen to anything you have to say on
any topic. Chakotay—escort her to the brig. I'll have the Doctor meet you there."
And
I was escorted by the man I'd spent twenty-six years living with or thinking
about…after he was gone. He seemed to sense it as well, choosing to say nothing
until we were out the door and a reasonable-distance down the corridor, both
managing to field any peculiar stares in my direction with a well placed nod. I
felt strange, touring the corridors of a ship I loved but which I hadn't set
foot upon in a sizable amount of time. And Chakotay—he realized I knew the way
as well as his own Captain, and allowed me to set the pace for our journey…I
stopped, and waited. And asked.
"Chakotay—how
is everything?"
"Fine."
The answer was short, as I knew it would be—he scarcely believed that his
Captain would do something so foolish and risky to the timeline—no matter how
old she would be. He wanted to believe that she would grow old and graceful,
allow nothing to get in her way, and retain the concern she held for the Prime
Directive…with a measure of doubt and risk she had always thrown in. I could
see it in his eyes, hear it in the way he moved—not himself.
"No."
I placed my hand on his arm, half-expecting him to shrug it away, as he often
did when he was upset with me. "With Seven. How is everything?"
"It's
fine." I could hear the pleasure and pride in his tone—it hurt, knowing that I
had never been able to really reach him…to really let go, and when it wasn't
even our time to be home, he had married Seven of Nine. She'd died too soon…and
our worlds collided in the last moments of his existence. The hurt…my hand in
his as he told me how he wanted to be buried…how he wanted to die.
"Captain—Admiral-"
"Kathryn.
Chakotay, I'm the same Kathryn Janeway you've known all of these years. You can
talk to me as if I weren't gray haired and aging. I assure you—I am as
healthy as she is."
"But
you're older—you've lived a different life, had different experiences." He
peered at me, eyes searching, almost knowingly. "And known a different
Chakotay, if I'm not mistaken."
"You're
not." I replied, and continued to move. "You're not mistaken, Chakotay, but
your Captain is right. We need to move forward with this and leave out the
Temporal Prime Directive. Things could only turn out worse for everyone."
"Worse
for you? Or me?" What he said struck a nerve, struck an emotion unvisited by
years of practice and I recoiled at the suggestion.
"There's
nothing you need to know, Chakotay. Not now. Not yet." And not if I can help
it, I thought, as we turned into the Brig, and I obediently stepped away
from him.
You
can't know what I do. I need to keep it safe, to keep you alive.
Temporal Time Change: U.S.S Voyager, four hours later
The briefing room was
silent, senior staff in their traditional positions as their Captain stood
close to the viewing window, hands braced against the sill as she regarded the
stars.
"So,
what's going on here?" Tom Paris leaned back in his casual manner, arms crossed
blatantly across his chest as he studied the group around him. There was
tension building with each passing moment- everyone was aware of the situation
yet knew little, leaving it to their Captain to give the required details.
She
was less than forthcoming.
"We
have a guest." Janeway turned to her crew, regarding them with little emotion
present in her blue eyes- all that she had on her mind was herself, if
it were really true, sitting down in the brig and awaiting a decision she would
make. What do I do with myself? Especially when she ranks higher—this
is a unique situation…for all of us. "We're in a rather unique
situation…our guest, Admiral Janeway, has come with news that she holds a
faster way for Voyager to get home. Saving us years, and preventing deaths and
tragedy along the way, which according to her is going to be a tough one."
"Wait a second," Harry Kim
interjected. "So…we will get home?"
"Yes, Ensign." She allowed
herself a smile, and turned somber once more. "According to the Admiral, we
will get home…but I'm not exactly sure how long it will take us."
"So if there's a shorter
route, let's take it." Kim put in, although his Captain apparently held
reservations on the subject, and was hesitant to explore them. She sought
assistance in Chakotay's steady gaze and found it, sitting down and allowing
him to speak his mind, as she was aware he would.
"It's
not that simple, Harry. We need to know more about this Admiral—the Doctor's
examining her as we speak, running a DNA match against Captain Janeway to be
certain."
"And if it is indeed my
counterpart…then we'll have bigger fish to fry," Janeway finished, leaning
forward and folding her arms across one another. "I want tactical updates every
hour, Tuvok—long range scans of the area…she seemed tense, and I want to know
if our position at the moment has anything to do with it. B'Elanna—how's the
baby?"
Torres
seemed exasperated and taken aback by the question, recovering rapidly and
shaking her head. "There's nothing wrong, Captain. She's fine."
"That's
good to hear. I want you on restricted duty from here on in. If there's another
false alarm- I'd like to be ready."
"Aye,
Captain." The assembled rose, and she followed them out with her eyes,
neglecting to note Chakotay's presence until he spoke, jolting her out of a
light daydream. She turned her head, a wisp of reddish-brown falling over her
cheek.
"What
is it, Chakotay?"
"How are you handling this?"
He queried, still sitting in his chair as he regarded her with thoughtful eyes
and furrowed brow. "You seemed to have doubts about this…what do you think of
her?"
"I might ask you the same
question." Her eyes narrowed, as she looked at him, silent for a moment.
"You're the one who escorted her to the brig…I imagine she attempted to speak
to you. She seemed…pleased to see you."
"She was. I can't deny that.
From what I gather…things are a bit different in her timeline." Chakotay
replied. "It seems that she holds her mission in high regard, and is willing to
do whatever she can to see it through." He paused. "Seems to me that she's
still a great deal like her former self."
"I
imagine she's a woman who's… a great deal changed." Janeway rose, leaning
against her chair. "Chakotay…I honestly don't know what to make of this
plan…she seems to me like she's a bit too determined. A foolhardy
plan—and no way to get back?"
"Maybe
she didn't want to go back."
Chakotay seemed convinced, but his Captain shook her head in the
negative.
"Maybe.
But I can tell you this…it may look a Janeway, and sound a Janeway---but that
never means that it's necessarily," And she crossed her arms, head tilting
slyly. "…A Janeway."
"You're
letting me free." I watched from behind the forcefield, seeing her pace
to-and-fro in an oddly familiar tempo which she…and I…had retained over the
years.
"We're
allowing you free reign of Voyager—for now." She was reluctant, as I'd expected
her to be. It was no surprise, her reaction to my presence, and I considered
rebutting with a remark about the future. As the forcefield rescinded, I
stepped out and decided against it, following her forth into the corridor. She
wasn't finished—by a longshot—regarding me with arched eyebrow as we entered
the turbolift, together. I have to admit—the mirrored carriages were
almost…eerie to me, having seen them in action. "You're no doubt an exact match to my DNA…which leaves us to find
out exactly why you're here, and what your motives are."
"I can tell you my motives,
Captain." I leaned against the turbolift wall, taking a moment to scan the interior—it
had been some time since I'd been inside an Intrepid class vessel…or any vessel
other than my own shuttlecraft. Admirals restricted to desk duty—Starfleet may
have trusted me, but that didn't mean that they believed I should remain in
command of any vessel. "I'd like Voyager to get home without any of the
hardships and traumas that cost me my closest colleagues and members of my
family." I'd said too much— there was no crossing the bridges that I had
burned…I'd burned much more than my fair share.
"Commendable
motives…but the Temporal Prime Directive-"
"The
'vaunted' Temporal Prime Directive. Ignore it, Captain. Trust me," I smiled,
"It saves you the headache."
She
studied me closely for a moment, and as we entered her ready room, moved upward
to the replicator.
"Coffee?"
"Yes, thank you." I took a
seat, crossing my legs and lounging comfortably. "It's been a while since I've
been in here…after the overhaul, Voyager was turned into a passenger
vessel…used to transport the former Maquis prisoners to their homeworlds…or a
newly established colony in the memory of those lost."
In
her eyes I saw the sorrow at being reminded…I could recall the day Chakotay
informed me of the massecre…for her, it was still fresh in her memory. As she
brought the coffee we sat, basking in the scent of Columbian. Voyager's
replicators always made a unique impression upon my favorite coffee—after years
of freshly grown, I realized that I'd forgotten that.
"Voyager
is still in service?"
"Oh,
yes. A bit outdated, and she was assigned to a Captain Sandra Reyes…but
Starfleet decided that such a memorable starship deserved to remain in service
for as long as possible. Recovering from the Dominion War was difficult for
them—every able ship was still welcome after all of those years. I admit, however—being on the other side of
the desk made me miss this room more than I realized. But being back here— I
feel more at ease."
"All right, that's enough."
Janeway regarded me calmly, her expression one of preparation. "You said you
wanted to get Voyager home. How is it, exactly, that you propose to do that?"
She was never one for beating around the bush, and neither was I…how was it
that I had changed so much?
"There's
technology aboard my shuttlecraft," I replied. "Shield generators…much stronger
than any you've ever experienced. And weaponry…you're going to need it all,
where you're going."
"And
where is that, exactly?"
"Back
to that nebula." At the expression on her face, I chuckled. "Yes, Captain…I
know about the nebula. You forget- I'm you."
"And I'm still me…I
don't recall knowing anything useful about that nebula other than the fact that
we were nearly ploughed over by forty-seven Borg cubes along the parimeter!"
Violent, yet predictable. I shook my head, gesturing for her to settle back. Listen,
Kathryn. You know me.
"Captain,
I can't tell you how much I'd like you to believe that I am here for all the
right reasons—I'm here to save so many lives…and save you so much time." The
door chime interrupted our discussion and I ignored it, giving her the
opportunity to turn away and collect her thoughts. She seemed to know—seemed to
realize what reasons I had for being there were legitimate.
Chakotay's
voice reached me…my hearing having remained as excellent as ever over the
years. To hear the deep tones, see the dark skin once again...it was a balm to
my pained thoughts. As I sat alone by the viewport, the two conversed near the
door—I could see Chakotay's eyes catching mine, assuming what he could about
the situation. I knew Kathryn- she would have filled him in on everything, and
what she didn't…he was skilled in making his own assumptions. I knew that, as I knew what would happen to
him, and I hid the truth behind layers of gray hair and experience.
"I'll
see you on the bridge, Captain- Admiral." He nodded toward me and I rose,
gesturing for him to wait. Just a moment. A curious glance from Kathryn
caught him off guard, however, and he was gone before I could stop him again.
As
he left, his Captain turned to arch an eyebrow at my expression- wistful, I
suspect, just for a moment in time before I was able to snap out of it.
"Old
ghosts, Kathryn." I replied, inclining my head slightly. "It's been a while
since I've seen him…my Chakotay…dies twenty years after his wife's death
onboard Voyager. He was never the same."
"His
wife?" After a moment she shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know…"
Her brow furrowed, slightly. His wife? I wondered if the confusion and
the curiosity would be the same for her…if she would feel the same about his
coming to her…asking her to perform the ceremony. It was a surprise to me, when
he had approached me one afternoon in this room…had asked if I would perform
the ceremony, which would make Seven of Nine his wife. If my plan worked out
correctly—she wouldn't have to see that, after all.
"Have
your engineers comb over the shuttlecraft. They'll find the technology
compatible…and should be able to refit Voyager within a few days—if we're
lucky." I wanted to stress the 'luck' part of the deal…it would be luck, and
only luck which would see us through. And when they saw the Alpha Quadrant
again…it would all be worth it to never have to live what I did.
Stepping
onto the bridge was as comfortable to me as pulling on a pair of old shoes-
just fitting, just right, despite the chasm of time that existed from when I
had last stepped foot onto a starship, to the time when I was given desk duty.
Those Admiral's pips- not nearly as confining when you're seeing them on
someone elses collar.
"It's
been quite some time, hasn't it?" She turned to me, as Chakotay relinquished
his seat to me, and chose instead to take position beside her. You're not
alone, Kathryn. And in a few hours…you may never have to feel that way again.
"B'Elanna.
Are we ready to try out the new shielding?" I could see the tension on her
face, the flames of curiosity snapping fiercly within her eyes.
"Yes,
Captain. I'd recommend continuing at one-quarter impulse…"
"Agreed,
Lieutenant. Tom?"
"Speed
altered, Captain. Ready to lay in our new heading."
"Course
heading-"
"Two-six-eight-four-nine
mark three." I interrupted, ignoring her gaze of irritation. "I realize it's
your bridge, Captain…but I know the way."
"And
you outrank me. Right. Now then," Captain Janeway leaned back, giving Chakotay
the glance of childish-excitement that I could always recall giving him…it had
happened so often, that I hadn't been given the opportunity to forget. "Tom,
engage."
"Aye,
Captain." The nebula was an hour away, and I retreated to her ready room—when
had I become so bold as to countermand my own orders? I knew her—I had been
her, once, a Captain with a mission- and was now a hardened Admiral. Was I
ever so…am I so cynical now?
"All
hands, red alert!"
U.S.S
Voyager. Spacial block 45963.
Assimilation
will not be executed.
"No…"
She trailed off, whispering, the dry tones barren of any emotion. Around her,
the humidity rose and curled a curtain of steam about her body, beads of sweat
holding place upon her shoulders. A torso of black rubber, slim—fashioned for
efficiency. "No, I want to study them. We will observe Captain Janeway's
actions further." She tilted her head, willing those at her disposal to carry
out her bidding.
Yes,
Captain. Play your games.
"We're
approaching the nebula." Captain Janeway informed me as I took the stairs to
her side. My ribs ached—the tension was getting to me, and to her—I could see
it in the way she stood. Behind us, Chakotay's form stood close to Seven. I
knew what I saw, and Kathryn did as well.
There
was no time. Not anymore.
"Tom,
full stop. Tuvok- activate the modified shielding, arm transphasic torpedoes on
my command." I ordered. She glanced at me, lips poised to object, but Chakotay
stepped in.
"Captain-
" Was there something I had missed? Something unspoken passed between them,
something heavier than my heart at that moment. Heavier than the burden I had
risked carrying to them through that rift. Only a few days ago.
"I
know, Chakotay." She turned to me, inclining her head as he began to jog toward
the turbolift. I shook my head, reached for him, farther away.
"No,
Kathryn. I'll go." They were planning a diversion. It was that simple. And I
wasn't a part of it. Damned if I wouldn't be.
"This is why I came. If you get home, then all that I've tried to
prevent will be prevented."
She
shook her head, but Chakotay's hand on her shoulder stopped any further
resistance. I smiled at him, knew he understood what I had to do, and why I
had to be the one to do it. If I succeeded—if I was lucky enough to buy them
the time—then time would be worth so much more to them than it had ever been
worth to me.
They're
closer now. I can hear them…
A
slim hand encompassed the rods surrounding the central alcove—fingers
tightened, gripped the black metal, smooth and slick, as her narrowed eyes
watched the image of a small, yet powerful starship which entered the nebula
without fear. Determined. Captain Janeway…
It
would be only a matter of time…
"Good
luck." She stood at the rear of the shuttlecraft, and I spun to face her, the
chair swiveling with such a familiarity—I wanted my desk, I wanted her place
onboard. I wanted to be Captain Janeway again, in command of her vaunted
Starship, ideals bordering so close to breaking the Prime Directive, and yet…I
felt nothing about my suicide mission. Except that not only would it save
everyone I cared about—but it would give her a chance at something that I had
never taken.
"Do
me a favor." I reached into my tunic and withdrew a roll of paper, tied with a
tattered crimson ribbon, it's silken sheen faded over…time. "Give this to
Chakotay, Kathryn. Don't forget it."
"I
won't." She took the paper into her hand and gazed at it, curiosity flashing
through her eyes before she looked back up at me. "Admiral…"
"I'll
be all right." I promised, nodding. "It's up to me now, Kathryn. And you've got
a ship to get home. Just follow my lead—and listen."
She
smiled, turning to exit the shuttlecraft without another word- I preferred it
that way. The paper would reach its intended recipient, and I…would carry out
my mission.
"Commander."
He didn't hear her step onto the bridge. He and Seven had been carrying on a
conversation close to the Captain's chair- astrometrics and…candles…and when
she appeared he hadn't known how to react. Until the moment when the paper was
slipped into his hand, and Kathryn Janeway resumed her place upon the pedistal.
"What's
this?" He sat down, and Janeway shook her head.
"I
can't say, Commander." She turned away, to Tuvok, and he began to unwrap the
paper. Crimson ribbon danced to his lap, thin and brittle paper began to
unroll.
"Captain-"
Voyager
trembled, her Captain clutching the sides of her chair in a moment of vulnerability,
before she caught herself and stared.
"Mr.Paris,
evasive maneuvers! Voyager to the Admiral!"
"I'm afraid that I'm busy,
Captain."
"We're
experiencing some problems over here, Admiral. I'm afraid that you'll have to
be without escort for a while."
"Dammit,
no, Kathryn! Chakotay, talk her out of it!" The panic was clear, and for
the first time, Chakotay was certain that he knew fear in the older woman.
"I'm
afraid I can't do that, Admiral." Captain Janeway looked at him for a moment,
eyes twinkling as her eyebrow arched softly, and she tipped her head.
"Good
luck, Admiral. We'll be there shortly. Janeway-"
Out.
"Captain,
something's locking on to us!"
"What?" Borg tractor beam.
It has to be…god in heaven, help us…
The
ship tremored again, more violently, and Janeway held on.
"Tuvok,
fire torpedoes! Full spread- target their tractor emitters!" Chakotay reached
for her hand and she took his, together gripping for a moment in attempt to
gain stability, confidence, hope. She needed all of the hope she could get - as
did they all.
After
all of this…we can win.
"You
can't have them, you know." Her head swiveled toward the sound before she knew
it, watching as the emerald light cast a glow upon an aged, determined Admiral
Janeway, who leaned smugly against a bulkhead with arms crossed against crimson
and black uniform. "Captain Janeway is resourceful."
"Captain
Janeway will fail. Voyager will be assimilated. We will prevail." Her eyes
were narrowed against the presence of the brash officer, and she inclined her
head toward an above viewscreen. "Our vessels are converging."
The Admiral chuckled.
"And
then? You've been after Voyager for years—how better a chance do you think you
have now, against their advanced shielding and the upgraded weaponry? I'd say you're outnumbered this time."
Perhaps…
"Evasive
maneuvers, Mr.Paris!" Janeway still clutched the hand of her first officer,
fingers crushed against his strong grip, but the pain being minor in comparison
to the situation. She didn't care—they had to pull out of the tractor beam…
"We're
being pulled in, Captain!"
"Vorik!" If we've ever
needed you in Engineering, B'Elanna, we're needing you now. Why was it that
children were always born during the battles?
"We
are attempting to bring weapons back on-line, Captain. However, I regret to
inform you-"
Who
cared?
"Dammit!"
She launched from her seat, fingers freed from Chakotay's grasp as she sprinted
up toward Tactical. "Your station, Lieutenant."
Tuvok
was aside without a word, allowing his Captain access. No one spoke, just held
on. That was all they could do, but wait.
"Captain?"
He was there beside her before she knew it.
"Chakotay,
I'm going down to launch the tricobalt devices—manually." She turned her head
to his objective gaze, and placed a hand on his chest. "No. It has to be
me—you're needed here. And so are you, Tuvok."
It
was unspoken. Her counterpart was making a sacrifice—he knew that she felt her
actions would compensate. Somehow.
"Captain-"
"That's an order." Her smile
was soft. "Chakotay…keep an open commlink—I'll see you in a few minutes. All of
you."
"Aye,
Captain." Déjà vu, the first officer mused, returning to his seat-
unwilling to take hers. Memories of her
being in the collective—his taking over her mantle…the empty feeling was back.
Careful,
Kathryn. We haven't come this far to lose you now.
"Commander---I'm
detecting a site to site transport…a shuttlecraft…"
No!
Aunt Kathy…Aunt Kathy…
Kathryn klein, ging allein…
"Mommy?" She was groggy—waking up…was that it…was
harsh, and the emerald glow unkind.
"Welcome back, Admiral…"
"Back…I-" There was blood on her forehead…real blood.
But I wasn't really here…my shuttlecraft…Voyager…
"Thirteen vessels are converging upon their position."
The Borg Queen watched her, smugly, standing erect before the central alcove.
"It won't be long until Captain Janeway and her crew become one with the Borg."
"I beg to differ." Janeway struggled to rise,
reaching out and pulling her body up with all of the strength she was able to
muster—the pain was excruciating, the burning in her legs…some sort of
bioweapon, perhaps. It wasn't something she could place a name on. "Captain
Janeway is going to get home."
"You were their diversion." The queen replied. "And
now that we have you…"
"You'll never have me."
The tubules…it was too late to scream as they pierced
soft skin at her throat, and she could feel the disturbing…the pain… it was too
much…
Your mind…
Will be one…
"Not so fast." The voice was familiar…had spoken
only moments before…youth…
"Captain Janeway."
"Let her go." The younger Janeway stood only a few
feet away, the familiar glow of determination illuminating the space around her
as she hefted a phaser rifle securely. It was unexpected, the Borg could give
her that.
Unacceptable.
"Kathryn," The throaty groan was all her superior
could muster. "Kathryn…no."
"I've left orders for Voyager to target three
tricobalt devices directly onto my position, if I don't contact them with the
Admiral in five minutes," The Captain intoned. "I suggest you step back, and
allow us to leave peacefully."
"I'm afraid you're too late." The queen stepped
aside, smoothly, her movements liquid, planned, precise. "She's already
becoming one of us."
The grey tendrils crept up…and Admiral Kathryn
Janeway groaned.
No…it isn't too late.
In the future…I'll be an Admiral. And Chakotay
and Seven…will be alive to see it.
Kathryn lunged, swung the rifle with all of the
strength and power of her beliefs urging her on. It had to be done- she had to
save someone, sometime, even if it was only an old woman who she would
later become. Voyager stood behind her, Chakotay's strong voice and steady gaze
pushed into her mind's eye.
"I wish I could say…it was nice meeting you again."
She breathed, as the rifle met metal, and cobalt orbs met blue. "But 'nice'
isn't exactly the word I had in mind."
"It was…for me." The queen reached a hand, but
Janeway's fingernails scraped the skin—
and
Energize!
"Bring us about…heading one-eight-six-two-four
mark two!" Chakotay leaned forward, eyes glancing only once to the empty seat
beside him. She'd beamed to a shuttlecraft—but there hadn't been time to
consider pursuit…thirteen borg vessels, and not a moment to spare.
"Aye, Sir!"
"Commander…I'm detecting a
shuttlecraft approaching off our port bow."
"Acknowledged."
Chakotay couldn't allow himself to relax, reaching a hand
self-conciously to Kathryn—who wasn't there. Why couldn't he remember that?
"Ensign!"
"Nothing yet, Sir. I'm getting a lock…it's the one of
ours."
"Lifesigns?"
"One. But, Sir…I can't tell who it is through the
interference!"
He has his hand on his commbadge before he realized
it, heart in his throat, cutting off his air with the sheer spontinaity of it.
The sensation was almost painful, and the dark man coughed out a harsh cry full
of hope and pleading. "Chakotay to Janeway. Admiral—what's the status of the
Captain?"
"She's right here, Chakotay." And it was Captain
Kathryn Janeway's voice they heard—Kathryn Janeway who was young, vital—the
voice that had led them home. Not the voice who had gotten them there, in
another lifetime, in another universe where she had proven how unhappy she
could be without her family alive and beside her. He felt a swell of pride at
the thought that this woman could live through the Borg twice, and would
return to them with her legacy—her destiny, her dignity, her body itself—in
tact. "And she's hoping that you've
left the light on."
"It's
going strong, Kathryn." Just come home to see it, he sighed to himself,
and shrugged off the mantle as easily as a warm cloak, thoughts placing it into
the chair beside him, ready for her shoulders once again.
"Then I'll
see you when I get there, Commander. Janeway out." For the first time in
minutes, the Admiral's face came to Chakotay's mind, unbidden, and he felt
sorrow for this woman who apparently hadn't made it, who had sacrificed
everything in her world…for his.
"Open the
shuttlebay doors, Ensign…lets bring our Captain home."
As he
shifted in his seat, a crumpled paper fell, having been forgotten in the panic
and the rough seas left behind them. Chakotay lifted and unrolled the page,
eyes drifting over a single line scripted beautifully in the center of
vanilla-colored parchment.
"We were strangers,
starting out on a journey…don't let anything tear her from you."
"I've
won." The voice was cool, dangerously so, and Admiral Kathryn Janeway grasped
smooth metal with a calloused hand as the tendrils captured her porcelean skin,
and her throat constricted with the movements of trillions of Borg nanoprobes
doing their work. Doing what they could to exterminate the existing human, as
she fought to hold on just for a moment longer.
The queen
inclined her head, smiling slightly amidst skin of the greyest pallor…perhaps
just a touch greyer, at Janeway's observance. And a smile curled over her own
lips, through the pain as it developed.
"You
haven't…not…yet…" The world itself
began to crumble around them, as rosiness crept into pallid cheeks, and the
once strong Queen of the Borg Collective began to crumble, collapsing…crying
out in…
The
sharpest stinging.
When the
world fell, all that was heard was a soft whisper, among the cries and the
shuddering of metal in the harsh vacumn of space, the whisper which meant
everything to the one woman who spoke it, reaching a hand toward the heavens,
toward a ship which took off at high warp, the nacells glowing azure for the
briefest of moments in the cool darkness as they slipped into a conduit and out
of the harsh night.
"Thank
you…Chakotay."
Captain's
Log, Stardate 10937.5
There's
been no sign of the Borg Collective…or the Admiral. And as I have been confined
to quarters for the next few days, I'm beginning to find that there's too much
time to consider her demise. What were her last few moments like? If the virus
did the trick, then she's had no suffering…and I can live peacefully, knowing
that she didn't die in vain.
We're
on our way back to Earth, however, I am hesitant to continue until the pilot
who has taken us this far is finished with his family duties—B'Elanna was
admitted into Sickbay shortly after we entered the Borg Conduit, and I suspect
that it's only a matter of time before another Paris is welcomed into our
family.
"Come in." My legs were propped up on a footrest, the
unfinished chapters of Dante's Infierno laying open in my arms and bookmarked
by a trailing scarlet ribbon. I could only imagine who was behind the door,
standing in the corridor with a bottle of wine and a smile on his face for my
well being. Come in, and close the door.
"How are
you?" My intuition never failed to disappoint me, and a smile crossed my lips
as I sat up to accept—a carafe. "Coffee?"
"After the visit from our
Admiral, I thought you might want something soothing." That smile—I couldn't
look at it long enough to see—all I thought about was what she'd said. His
wife?
"How's
Seven?" The words broke from my lips before I could hold them back, and I knew
what he was thinking. I know…how could I not know? He stared at
me in such a way, placing the carafe onto the table and proceeding into the
room to settle onto the couch. We'd been here before, hadn't we, reading over
our reports—but this was something so much deeper than any report I could ever
read, any crew evaluation. But the topic had to come up sooner or later. And it
came.
"She's
fine." He crossed his legs and watched me, in that damned calm way that he
always did when he was trying to figure me out. I hated to be figured out-
every woman, every captain needed to retain some mystery in her persona.
"When did you find out, Kathryn?"
"The
Admiral." My little bird told me, and now she was dead in attempts to allow me
to use the information which she had given me to my benefit. "When, Chakotay?
Why?"
"A month
ago. We ate dinner in the mess hall…took a walk down the corridors at
midnight…are you sure you want to hear this?"
No, I
don't want to hear this, Chakotay. I didn't want to hear it from her, nor
you…especially not from you. It makes the reality-
"But it's
over." Those three words were the trigger which caused the gun to go off, sending a jolt of…sending a jolt through my
system which I couldn't identify as anything other than sheer relief. And why
relief? Because he was no longer with Seven did not mean that I was ever to be
an option…it didn't mean that marriage was in his future. But god, I didn't
want to die an old maid, alone without my best friend in the world, whether he
was beside me at that moment or not.
"It's been over since the beginning of this crisis, Kathryn-when the
Admiral and I were talking, and she left me with something that I couldn't
explain or push away. It wasn't enough that she showed me with her eyes…she
gave me something more important than that."
I shook my
head, unsure of what he was getting at
until he handed me the familiar crumpled paper and ribbon, both equally beaten
and battered, war torn. I lowered my head to read the letters in hauntingly
familiar script, but shaky as if written by the hand that belonged to a frightened
woman. And when I raised my head to respond, it was met with a decidedly
difficult obstruction. His lips were
soft and yielding, and as her own fell into the void, as she fell into his
arms, she found herself realizing, for the very first moment, that she would
not be that Admiral.whom I had seen stepping upon my bridge, with her unhappy
gaze and the creases of worrysome years etched deep into her skin.
I would
not be that Admiral.
"This
seems like it was suppose to be," Chakotay commented, pulling away to peer at me intently. "You won't become like her,
will you, Kathryn."
It wasn't a question as
much as a comment, as if merely saying it would make it so.
"No,
Chakotay, I-"
"Sickbay
to the Captain-"
"Yes,
Doctor?" Perhaps his call was good timing- perhaps the interruption was welcome
. The plaintive wail of a newborn broke
the silence, and my pride was reflected in Chakotay's eyes as we shared the
moment of another Paris breaking forth into our family.
"Mr.
Paris?" I queried, raising my voice, as I knew the exuberant father would be
right there, gazing at his newborn daughter with a deep pride which could never
be taken away. Not after witnessing such an event. "What will you call her?"
"We're
going to name her Miral, Captain. After B'Elanna's mother."
I gazed up
at Chakotay, allowing my eyes to catch his as one hand came up, three fingers
grazing his jawbone as we sat there, inches apart.
"She was
born in the Alpha Quadrant, Chakotay. And yet…she was born at home. With
us."
He nodded,
and with a chuckle, I pushed him away, off the couch.
"I don't
want Tom to leave her side for a moment. Take the conn, Commander—and bring us
in to communications range with Earth. I want you to bring us home now. "
"You're finally ready to
share your mantle?"
It was my turn to incline
my head with a smile, and he took my arm without my objection. I knew what had
to be done next.
"Then you'll
be beside me when I do, Kathryn. We're going to do this all…together. On the
last leg."
The sun
broke through the branches of a birch tree overlooking a sturdy log cabin,
reflecting off the lake surface nearby, glinting off the hair of a forty-three
year old woman as she bent over the face of a man. A man whose dark arm flung
upward as she kissed him, auburn strands forming a curtain to block out her
whispers from the world surrounding them both.
One
whisper shook the branches, yet no one heard.
Welcome
home.
-Fin
