THE TWELFTH YEAR OF VOYAGER'S JOURNEY



When they entered the Volkari realm, the attacks were unstoppable.

The Volkari had thousands of ships, all willing to attack the moment Voyager came within sensor range. Their realm was seemingly endless, and their ill will towards Voyager unceasing. Though their weapons were primitive, they had a form of "ablative armor" that dampened the power of Voyager's torpedoes by almost half, and dragged out fights to the point where even their primitive projectile weapons could do serious damage.

Sixty-five days passed, and Voyager continued to limp through Volkari space. The hull was charred and scarred from constant attack, and decks twelve to fifteen had been shut down to conserve energy.

Two months of attacks had worn out Voyager's crew. Replicators were going offline constantly, and food from the hydroponics bay was running low. Tension ran high.

There was a fight in the mess hall one day. It seemed Freddy Bristow thought Billy Telfer had taken his daily allotment of food rations. A few days later, B'Elanna practically came to blows with Vorick in engineering.

Every morning for two months, Janeway wearily dragged herself into astrometrics to see Mortimer Harren fiddling with the instruments.

"Mr. Harren. Location?"

He replied with thinly veiled irritation, "Practically the same place we were yesterday, Captain." He tapped a few buttons with undue force, and Voyager's location transposed on a map of Volkari space appeared on the large screen.

Janeway pursed her lips and scowled at the image. At this rate, it would take another six months to get out of this realm.

She heard a small noise issued from Mortimer Harren, and she looked over at him.

"What was that, Mr. Harren?"

He shifted his weight. "I fail to see your reasons for checking our position every morning, Captain," his voice was laced with his usual contempt. "If there's ever a significant change in our status, I'll let you know."

"There's something to be said for peace of mind, Mr. Harren," Janeway countered, and gestured towards the view screen with a flick of her finger. "Every light-year farther we get, the better I feel."

"In the meantime, you waste my time and yours, not to mention the power we expend calling up this image. I hope your... 'peace of mind' is worth the costs to this crew."

Her eyes glittered dangerously, and she slowly turned to face him. "What exactly are you saying, crewman?"

He let out a huff of air. "I'm saying that maybe if you spent more time on the bridge and less time down here, you could get us out of this godforsaken hole. We're losing more power every day, and people are getting nervous."

Janeway smiled without humor. "And you, of course, have always had your finger on the pulse of Voyager's popular opinion."

"Even an introvert can tell what this crew is feeling," he snapped back, meeting her gaze with a bold one of his own. "We think you're taking us to our deaths."

"And what choice do we have?" she retorted. "Go around Volkari space? You of all people should know that's impossible. It would take decades."

"I'm saying maybe we shouldn't have anything to do with it at all," he replied in a cold voice.

"Then what do we do?" Janeway fought to keep her voice from rising. "Give up? Settle?"

"It seems only practical. We'd only have a two month journey back. Maybe the Volkari would leave us alone if we'd retreat."

She scrutinized him. "Didn't you have more invested in the Alpha Quadrant than anyone, Mr. Harren? That Institute..?"

He scoffed. "Captain, I gave up on going to the institute the day you destroyed the array."

That stung her.

"You have never actually believed we'd get home..."

"One year, I did. Five years, maybe..." His voice seemed less harsh now. "Twelve years, captain... we're still here now, after twelve years of traveling, and I think we're going to die out here." He looked down, his expression frozen into a haughty, superior mask.

Janeway was speechless for a moment. Could the crew really feel that way?

"We've come this far. I'm not turning this ship around."

He looked up at her again. "Then I wouldn't deign to argue with you further, Captain. I'm not Seven of Nine. I can't hope to get away with it."

"And you're out of line, crewman," Janeway hissed.

He stopped talking, and turned back to his work.

Janeway glanced to her right to catch Ensign Icheb watching her. The former drone looked away quickly.

She straightened up, tugged down on her shirt. "I'll keep your concerns in mind, Mr. Harren," Janeway said in her most crisp voice. "In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd continue to closely track our position."

"Yes, ma'am."

She paused in case of any lingering objections. When he dared voice none, she turned to leave astrometrics.

However, the encounter left her strangely shaken.

* * *



"He's just scared. And angry." Chakotay reassured her later as they sat quietly together in the ready room.

"But he's right."

"Captain--"

She picked up a padd she'd flung carelessly onto the desk before her. "Our food supplies are dangerously low. Mr. Chell estimates we've got a week, maybe two more. The crew's already starving, and the Doctor informs me I can't spread the rations any thinner without causing widespread malnutrition." She closed her eyes. "The last thing we need, there."

"We'll find a planet. We'll get food."

"The planets are all populated by Volkari, Chakotay. You know that." She sighed. "And then, there's the matter of the three crewmembers... three essential personnel we've lost in the last two weeks..."

"They're all essential personnel."

"Yes. They all are. And that makes this harder... because we're going to lose more, Chakotay. You know we're going to lose more."

The last few attacks, the Volkari had managed to penetrate the shields and actually beam aboard. They'd always been taken down quickly, but not before managing to kill a total of three crewmembers and wounding countless others.

Days turned into weeks... Janeway began to send boarding parties to crippled Volkari ships and had them stripped them of everything... power, equipment, food... But so rarely were these ships crippled, and so rarely did Voyager inflict enough damage so as to prevent their escape, that these raids were not enough to sustain the crew's needs.

Janeway put on her uniform every morning, feeling it grow looser and looser. She watched the people around her grow thinner and thinner, and every day more hopeless.

Some days Harry managed to cheer her up. He'd joke about his new ability to count his own ribs.  He tried to bring some light to the situation... Sometimes it made her happy, others it just irritated her. Once, he joked that she should try cooking a pot roast. "Then we'll have some ablative armor to line our own hull." Janeway broke down into tears.

Shocked, and apologetic, he put his arms around her and tried to shush her. She drew back from him, laughing through her tears.

"It was funny, Harry, really... I'm just stressed... It's just stress..."

He stood there helplessly for a while, and she continued to laugh and cry intermittently. "Ablative armor.. my pot roast... that's accurate, all right..." And then she stiffened.

"Captain..?"

Her eyes were suddenly sharp. He could see that her mind was working quickly. "Harry, can you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Volkari ships. I want you to compile every last sensor scan we have of that armor of theirs. Every last one."

"We've already analyzed a fragment for weaknesses--"

"I'm not looking for weaknesses." He could see her eyes glint as she rose to her feet, and any evidence of her tears had suddenly vanished. "I want to adapt it to our technology."

"Use their armor for Voyager?" He looked puzzled. "I thought B'Elanna said it was incompatible."

"Their armor is incompatible," Janeway replied excitedly. "But what if we constructed armor of our own? Starfleet technology... Starfleet armor? B'Elanna doesn't have time. The engineering personnel are all occupied. But I know enough... Harry... I need to see those specs... Harry... can you get those for me?"

He nodded briskly. "I'll get right on it."

He started out the door, only looking back once to catch a glance at her. She was pacing frenetically next to her desk, a new, nervous energy vibrating through her emaciated frame.

* * *



Shit. Shit shit shit.

She tried to fire at the one in front of her, but felt a sickening blow across the back of her head. Her knees collapsed underneath her, and the floor rushed up to meet her cheek. Her vision darkened, but she did not black out. She knew she was hurt, and hurt badly. She was going to be sick right here on the carpet.

No, that wasn't nausea... that was pain. Or dizziness. She couldn't distinguish as it rolled over her, over and over again.

"We've secured engineering," a distinctly alien voice barked somewhere in the distance. Janeway struggled to right herself, but her limbs felt like rubber, and she slumped back down to the floor.

Then strong arms, strong and gentle, scooped her up to her feet. One was around her waist, the other gripped her forearm. She opened her eyes to meet the concerned gaze of B'Elanna Torres. Dark blood ran down the engineer's forehead, a thin trickle of it.

"You okay, Captain?" she whispered.

Janeway was disoriented a moment. She couldn't recall...

A conference. She was meeting with B'Elanna about the ablative armor. She needed Torres's help with some design flaws she'd discovered.

Then the ship shook, and they were under attack.

We're not ready! Janeway thought in alarm, remembering that their shields were still crippled from the attack just that morning. She had to get to the turbolift. She had to be on the bridge.

And then the Volkari materialized all around them, and Kathryn had grabbed her phaser, and then she'd been clubbed across the back of the head.

Now Torres supported her, growing concern on the engineer's face. And hatred. For her?  Kathryn realized that the hatred was for the Volkari with the weapons pointed at them.

Oh God, they have the ship, Janeway thought with a sinking feeling.

"We're locked out of the computer. They've sealed us on this deck," one of the Volkari was saying, as if on cue. And Janeway sagged in relief. She felt Torres pat her reassuringly on the back.

The Volkari Commander turned to survey the Starfleet officers, all herded together under rifle point. Janeway pulled slightly away from B'Elanna's comforting grip to stand on her own as the olive-skinned, prominent-jawed alien glared at them with dark, beady eyes.

"Who is in charge here?"

Janeway felt Torres against her back, trying to step forward, but Janeway held her arm out to block the engineer's path.

"I am," Janeway replied boldly.

The Commander strode over to her, and stood before her a second, summing her up. He didn't seem particularly impressed, and abruptly snatched her by the shoulder and shoved her away from the rest of the group.

Weak from the blow, and light from malnutrition, Kathryn tumbled easily, and landed on her shoulder with a burst of unexpected pain. Her vision blackened around her again, but by that time, the Commander had flipped her onto her back with his boot, and hovered over her menacingly.

"You will give me the codes to gain access to the rest of the ship."

"No."

He reached down, and Janeway cringed as his gloved hand encircled her neck. Then, he lifted her to her feet, then higher to where her toes barely brushed the ground. Her head grew light, and she couldn't draw a breath against his grip. She pulled at his fingers frantically, then felt herself grow light...

He held her there a long moment, his eyes boring into hers until he seemed to sense she could take no more. Then he released her. Her legs predictably collapsed beneath her.

"The codes."

Janeway gasped for breath. It hurt to breath. She could barely get out, "When my crew comes down here... they'll kill you..."

He raised a fist as if to strike her, and she flinched back. Then he seemed to have second thoughts.

"No..." He straightened, then turned to survey the group of fearful crewmen. He walked back towards them, grabbed Jenny Delaney, and hauled her forward for Janeway's inspection.

"Leave her alone," Janeway growled.

"Observe," he intoned. Before she realized what he was doing, he'd slipped a dagger from his waist and plunged it through the poor girl's abdomen.

Janeway cried out as Jenny Delaney did, and instinctively started forward, only to stumble to her knees again. One of the Volkari drew forward to stand between her and his Commander. The Volkari leader tightened his grip on the dagger, held the agonized Delaney sister in place, and then with one firm yank dragged the blade up to her chest.

When he pulled it out again, the girl slumped to the floor. There was no question she was dead. Sounds of fear and anger came from the huddled group of crewmembers, and only Crewman Jarvis's hand clamped on Megan Delaney's mouth kept her screams from filling engineering.

Janeway crouched on the floor, trembling in shock and rage.

The Commander sneered at her, and then surveyed the engineering staff. "I count another fourteen crewmen here. Must I kill all of them for you to release those codes to me?"

Janeway stared at Jenny's body. Her voice shook. "Don't. They didn't do anything to you. I'm the one..."

"Then open the ship to us."

"I can't!" Janeway rasped.

He shrugged. "Very well."

And then Noah Lessing was in hand, and the young man's face contorted in agony as the Commander plunged the dagger into him. Moments later, he was split open to the chest, too, and the young man fell to the ground, dead.

Dear God, he's going to do this to all of them.

"The codes, Captain."

"If you kill another one, I'll never give you the codes."

"I don't believe that. Perhaps she will be incentive for you," and he ripped Megan Delaney out of Jarvis's arms. Moments later, she joined her twin sister on the floor of engineering.

"You bastard... I'll kill you..." Janeway heard herself muttering. She was shaking so hard she could barely keep her knees under her. "You can't kill them all... I'll never tell you then... You can't make me..."

"...If I still don't have the codes after they're all dead, then I will beat them out of you. Really, it's simple captain..." his words faded out of her hearing, and she was shaking her head. It came down to, "Tell me now!"

Tal Celes in his arms. The wide-eyed Bajoran stood paralyzed with fear.

I'm not a part of Voyager... I just live here... The heartbreaking words she'd told Janeway a few years earlier. Kathryn had her transferred to Engineering. She'd sent her to her death.

"Please... don't ask me for what I can't give!"

Tal Celes... Dead on the floor.

Jerron next. Nichols. His hands were soaked in their blood. The floor was littered with their bodies.

"All your fault, Captain. You've killed each of them," he told her. Heartless, ruthless bastard.

He grabbed B'Elanna.

And then security was in engineering, and the Volkari were dead. Phasers that had been at stun were switched to kill when the carnage in engineering came into view.

Janeway huddled on the floor, unseeing, sickened. Then someone's arms were around her, helping her to her feet, helping her down the corridor.

She ripped away and collapsed to her knees, retching.

He caressed her cheeks as he pulled her hair back from her face. His hand around her shoulder steadied her, prevented her from tumbling over into her own vomit. When she started to sob, heedless and oblivious to those shuffling out of engineering, he had the presence of mind to pick her up and carry her into empty quarters. He cradled her in his arms as she released her agony, guilt, horror.

She clamped her hands over her eyes and face for the longest time, the longest time, shutting out the horrors of the past hour. Megan. Jenny. Celes. Jerron. Lessing. Nichols. Seven...

She almost wretched again, but found herself dry heaving painfully. And he stroked her back.

The hand continued, moving gently back and forth as she continued to shiver.

Then a gentle, tender voice, "It's okay. It's all right, Kathryn. You did the only thing you could. If you'd told him, we'd all be dead now. You saved us... You couldn't have done it any differently."

And it wasn't the voice she'd expected. It was almost the voice of a stranger. She knew him, but in her pain, she was beyond shock, beyond surprise.

She stayed curled up, her hands clamped suffocatingly tight over her face, trembling in her own private hell for hours until she passed out from she sheer stress of it all.

Chakotay stayed beside her the whole time.