The door to the spacious apartment slid open quietly. The feminine figure
moved inside, signaling the doors to close shut after it. The place was
mostly dark, except of course for the bright lights coming from the city of
San Francisco through a large window. There was a heavy, tired sigh as the
person dropped into a chair facing a desk at a far, darkened corner of the
room. A few silent moments passed before the computer terminal upon the
desk flickered to life with an obedient series of low beeps. The upper
torso and face of the figure was illuminated with a soft blue glow. Her
eyes stared absently at its bright haze.
"Captains log--"
The voice emitted a slight chuckle. "Well, I suppose I'm not the captain anymore. I have to stop doing that. But it's hard to break something you have known as habit for so long. Civilian life has been good to me."
She stood, suddenly uncomfortable despite the heavily cushioned chair, and moved to the window diagonal from her desk. She continued on with her log.
"Ever since we got back into port, it's been a week of non-stop parties-- today, a get-together sponsored by the crew of the Al-Batani, past and present. We traded stories. they on their reconnaissance missions into the Dominion. my encounters with the Borg."
She snorted lightly, turning away from the window and back towards her desk, a thumb pressing into her opposite palm.
"Now it seems to me that they think of me as some sort of hero." She rested her hands on the edge of the desk and shook her head. "I find it rather odd because. I don't see myself as a hero. I was a captain doing her duty to bring her crew home." She smirked and shook her head again. "Even if it did reduce Borg activity by an 'estimated seventy percent,' and manage to get Voyager's crew home simultaneously, thirty-odd years ahead of schedule."
She stood straight, her hands now resting on her hips. "Making it home was the only objective I had for Voyager... for me."
A hand moved to massage her temple. She moved a few feet to a couch and let her body fall into the cushions. "I have nothing but joy for my crew. The sight of them reunited with their friends and family makes me the happiest I've been in a long while. But."
Her voice trailed off as she stared into the shimmering view of San Francisco. She could barely make out the warm glowing light that outlined the Golden Gate. Oddly enough, it looked more dazzling from the view screen on Voyager.
"But I don't know if I can find the same comfort in my return. I know that I am home now, and should feel comfortable here on Earth, but Voyager was my only home with a family that I had for seven years. And yet here I am."
She peered around the dimly lit room. The only source of actual light was emanating from the computer screen to her back and the lights out side her window. Her world was dim and grey, nothing like that of the liveliness that had been on Voyager's decks. There was nothing there that would remind her of her constant duty as Starfleet captain, the small hum in the back of her head of her self proclaimed mission to get the crew home.
"And now that we are home ahead of schedule, I find myself not knowing what to do. It's like a long awaited shore leave and yet I want to go back to my ship. Not that it's possible.Starfleet Intelligence grabbed Voyager twenty hours after she arrived in spacedock."
"I knew we would have to give her up once we got back to the Alpha Quadrant. But that wasn't supposed to happen for years. If Admiral Janeway hadn't appeared, it would have taken us thirty years to get back home to Earth. and a part of me had accepted that. I was comfortable within Voyager's walls. It was where we were going to live until we made it back.
Her eyes looked up and towards the small, framed picture of Voyager set against the cold, grey walls of her apartment. There were others that were of her Intrepid class; same model, same shape, but with a different name, a different crew, and a different story behind each adventure. But this was Voyager. The ship, the ship, that had been stranded in the Delta Quadrant, thousands of light-years away from home. It was thought lost to the Federation, abandoned from all hope, and had miraculously survived and came home, then to be confiscated and taken away to be studied. dissected, so to speak, by Starfleet.
Their home.
But it wasn't their home anymore. It wasn't going to be her captaincy anymore either. She knew that. Janeway took a breath, and then let it go.
"Voyager belongs to the Federation and they have every right to put it under scrutiny. After all, with all the advancements we made to the ship to make it through the seven years on our own they would want to understand it. I would too. I would analyze the technology, the alien improvements and why Admiral Janeway had brought it with her from the future." That brought a small smile to her face. "The looks on their faces after reading my reports on the events taken place before we made it home is surely one that I will not forget for a very long time."
Janeway blinked and stared at the replicator console in the adjoining room. A red light flickered in the darkness from the panel eerily similar to the Borg lights.
"The anti-Borg technology and the knowledge that gave us the power to get Voyager home sooner and faster than ever expected. it's all under Federation microscopes."
"Computer, pause." She sighed walking through the doors to the replicator, the light flashing red upon her pale face. "Coffee, black."
The thousands of molecules swirled into place as the coffee was formed, and she carefully curled her fingers around the width of it. She blew on the surface of the beautiful black liquid and then shot a glance towards the computer. "Continue log."
She made her way back to the couch, but did not sit down, continuing to stare out towards the window. "The last I heard about Voyager was that it is still being examined by Starfleet Intelligence. I haven't been able to see much of her over the past week." She took small sip from the mug, the coffee burning at her lips. She raised the mug and smiled at the replicator.
"This is very good coffee, but not like that back home." She took another sip and continued with her log. "Voyager is probably being picked clean, being examined piece by piece and by the time they get through with her there will be nothing left but the grim skeletal frame of what was our home."
A scowl found it's way across her face but she didn't try to hide it. "We were only a scout ship. A ship not made for long-term deep space exploration, and yet we managed. They have hundreds of other Intrepid class ships. Why can't they study them? Why dissect a part of our victory?" She sighed. "I can't fathom the reason why they would turn it into one big science experiment. I would rather see her back out in space, exploring and doing what she does best with the crew that knows her well."
Janeway paused and quickly recalled many of her crew's faces as she did every night, trying to keep in contact with those she loved most. "But I don't think that's how it's going to be. Voyager will have no crew and no captain." She took another mild sip. "And what about everyone else? I wonder how they feel about this."
Everyone on the crew had to go through vigorous questioning after the celebration of returning home and the crew's reports were downloaded in record time. She had hardly had the chance to see the newest member of the Voyager family, Paris's daughter. Janeway chuckled. She was surprised that they didn't take the baby away to study as well.
"But they probably did take someone to study," she breathed so softly that the computer almost didn't register the voice. "To them Seven of Nine is probably another one of Voyager's scientific curiosities. I bet she knows how Captain Picard felt after his abduction." She shook her head and scowled, setting the coffee down. "She isn't Borg. Seven is human. And she should be treated accordingly. But I suppose Seven is one of the most exciting discoveries they've had since the Bajoran wormhole, but she shouldn't be treated so inhumanely. I have tried so long to show her, to make her realize that she was human and nothing else. I wonder if all my efforts of helping her were erased as soon as they put her on the examining table."
She set the coffee aside and leaned into herself, her head lying heavily on her hand, which was balanced by her elbow on her knees. "All my time in space, with my crew, my family." she paused and shook her head and stared straight towards the wall. "And Seven. All my efforts were completed. I managed to get bring my crew home, bring Voyager back in one piece, for better or for worse, and managed to bring Seven back to Earth to be with family."
Janeway looked down at her mug, searching for the rings moving outwards from the center. "After all those adventures and close calls, we made it. We pulled through." She shook her head and massaged her temple. "And yet again I am finding myself waking up in the night wondering if this is a dream. If our return to Earth was just an illusion cast by Q or our weary hopes of making it home."
She reached for her coffee and took a deep breath, trying to wrap herself within the smell. Trying to tuck herself within the warmth and find comfort and answers from the outside world which suddenly seemed cold and used up.
"What do I do now?" She asked herself. "What now?"
She quickly set down the coffee cup, spilling a little onto the table as she walked away to the small mirror before the bathroom. She stared at herself, searching for the lines she had continuously wore on Voyager, looking for the worry of not making it home and the fire that burned behind her eyes in making it her duty to take the ship back to the Alpha quadrant. She found nothing but somber brown eyes set in the paleness of her face staring back at her. She didn't know when the burn had dimmed from her eyes, or when she began to feel the nostalgia for Voyager but it didn't settle with her. She felt contained within this mandatory civilian life, trapped somehow, even with the open air and the ability to travel anywhere she wanted without the use of the holodeck. Then, suddenly, she started laughing.
It was more of a vehement chuckle actually-she leaned over the sink before she could double over, one hand on either side of the bowl. Still laughing, she shook her head slowly from side to side.
"What am I thinking?" She leaned her head back and stared up to the dark ceiling, finally recovering from the attack. "Here I am feeling sorry for myself when the fact is I just accomplished the impossible."
She stared up towards the mirror once more, letting her eyes roam over her own features for the second time. She seemed. old. Well, maybe 'old' wasn't the right word. Maybe. it was 'worn.' The woman she saw in the mirror was too well worn for continued service in Starfleet.
"Maybe I'm putting a strong connection between service in Starfleet and Voyager." She hung her head low for a moment and sighed. "Probably too strong of a connection. And I don't think it is something I can break."
She suddenly turned and moved back into the living room, and picked up a PADD. She then sat down on the couch, clearing the data on the PADD and pulling up an empty text file. She smirked slightly as she started keying words into the interface. "I think it's time to find a new me. Computer, end log."
She leaned back into the cushions of the furniture and continued keying in words. There she sat for several hours, late into the night and early morning. At the first hints of sunlight she was finally satisfied with what she had written. She saved the file and changed the display to one more suited for presentation, then tossed the PADD on a coffee table while she stripped out of her dinner dress and took a quick sonic shower.
She was on her way to pick up the PADD and leave when she spotted a Starfleet uniform, her uniform, spread out across her bed; the left sleeve crossing across the tunic's breast. It was one of Starfleet's latest uniforms, given to her by Reg Barclay and the Pathfinder team at one of the recent parties. She hadn't yet had the opportunity to try it on.
After a moment's consideration, she changed into the red, grey, and black uniform. She tugged on the front of the material, straightening it out, and examined herself in the mirror adjacent to the bed. She didn't look too bad in it, she decided. After all, she had to look since it would be the last time she would wear the uniform.
Without a further delay, she grabbed the PADD from the table she had left it at, and disappeared out the door of the apartment with a steady, confident pace.
***
"Captain Janeway, what an unexpected surprise!"
Reginald Barclay stood near one of the control stations in the Pathfinder control room in the Starfleet Communications Center building, having just arrived to work only a few moments before. His hands were clasped together nervously in front of him, but he wore a bright smile on his face. "Ah, I see you've tried on the new uniform."
Janeway smiled gaily at the engineer, clasping both her hands behind her back to hide the PADD she had come to deliver. "Fits like a dream, Reg. I just don't know how you got my size perfectly right."
Barclay smiled, pressing his palms together nervously. "S-s-o, captain, what can I do for you?"
"Actually, I was looking for Admiral Paris. Is he here?"
"Well, I-"
The doors to the lab swished open, and Janeway and Barclay turned to see Admiral Paris stride in, flanked on either side by an attaché, each wearing a Starfleet uniform. He looked fairly gruff, as usual, but his features lightened a bit when he spotted the captain.
"Captain Janeway!" He smiled and moved over to where Janeway and Barclay were standing. "Hello! What brings you to the Pathfinder lab this early in the morning?"
"Actually, I was looking for you, sir."
"Well, I'm a very busy man, but I'm sure I can find the time to appease one of my favorite captains." The old man's face bore a happy grin now.
"Captain, sir?" Barclay tilted his head characteristically to the side and smiled knowingly.
Janeway glanced from the engineer to the admiral, confused.
"Oh. well." He chuckled after a small pause. "We were going to wait until the little get-together party tonight, but Mister Barclay seems like he doesn't want to wait that long." He stepped past Barclay and offered his hand to Janeway, which the captain took after transferring the PADD she was carrying into her left hand.
"Congratulations on your promotion, Admiral Janeway."
"Admiral!" Barclay repeated the word excitedly, adding additional emphasis to the word.
Admiral Paris laughed, his free hand moving to clap her several times on the shoulder, and Barclay laughed with excitement. Janeway's lips, however, bore only a slight smile, and her eyes were fixated onto her hand as it clasped Paris'. Her throat had suddenly gone dry.
It wasn't long before the senior admiral noticed. "Too shocked to reply, eh Kathryn?"
Janeway's heart sank even further as she dragged her eyes up from Paris' hand and forced them to look up into the man's eyes. She released his hand and offered him the PADD she was holding with the other. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" He took the PADD and pressed a control to display the text of the message. "About what." His voice trailed off as his eyes scanned down the body of the message. By the time he was done, a distinctive frown had taken the place of the smile that had been there minutes before. "I see."
At that point, Barclay had to break in. "W-w-what is it, what's the message?"
Paris glanced. almost glared in Janeway's direction, then moved off to the side of the room, staring absent-mindedly into a computer display showing recent telemetry from the Midas Array. Barclay gave up on getting an answer from him and directed his attention towards Janeway, both his eyebrows raised in hopes of receiving an answer.
"I'm sorry this uniform won't get much use, Reg. At oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow, I will have officially resigned my commission in Starfleet."
"What?!" Barclay blinked incredulously at her before taking a few steps toward Paris, gesturing back to Janeway with a finger. "S-s-she can't do that!"
"I can, Reg, and I have." Janeway shot a glance over at Paris, who was still staring into various display panels. "I'm sorry." She turned to leave.
"Kathryn."
Janeway stopped in her tracks, her head falling forward and her eyes closing at the sound of Paris' voice.
"Kathryn, he's right. You. you can't leave. Not now."
Janeway turned, evidence of irritation easily visible in her face. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Paris sighed. He turned away from the consoles and towards the captain.
Janeway had expected something like this. She evened out her stance and folded her arms defiantly, but recomposed her features, in anticipation of a verbal barrage by the balding man. Paris cleared his throat, hesitating a moment before speaking.
"You know, Captain." He finally managed to look straight at her. " I could stand here and try to convince you that your experience would be a great benefit. That your experience with Borg technology and tactics would make an awesome complement to Starfleet Command's brass. That. your extraordinary perseverance and will would be able to help Starfleet and the Federation recuperate from the most destructive war in its history. I could even tell you that we have inconclusive evidence that the Romulans are planning an invasion of Federation space."
He was glaring into her eyes as he spoke, but as his voice dropped off, his look softened. "But that wouldn't make much of a difference. Would it."
It wouldn't make a difference. She knew that for sure. No matter how much it pained her to know that each and every point the Admiral had made was true, she couldn't change her mind. Paris understood that-Janeway didn't have to respond.
Paris nodded, seeing the response he foresaw in Janeway's facial features. "That's what I thought. Well, you do have the right, I can't stop you."
"What?!" Barclay had to pause to make sure he didn't step out of line with an emotional outburst. He closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself down and in an effort to keep himself from stuttering. "Y-you can't just let her resign like that!"
"It's her decision, Mister Barclay. There's nothing we can do."
Janeway exhaled, figuring she had survived the abbreviated verbal barrage she knew the Admiral would give her. She even offered him a smile. "Thank you for understanding, sir."
"I do my best to understand, Kathryn. But I don't know how well your crew will take it."
She glanced back at him, almost puzzled. "My crew, sir?"
He nodded. "Sure. They will be very disappointed." Paris folded his hands in front of him. "Crew evaluation reports go both ways, you know."
He let loose a slight chuckle. "If there was one thing your crew knew well, it was you. Especially that first officer of yours, Chakotay. He figured you might pull a crazy stunt like this." Without breaking eye contact with Janeway, he held out his right hand, fingers open. One of his attachés, a brunette woman who appeared to hold the rank of lieutenant, stepped forward and handed the admiral a PADD.
"Chakotay and Seven of Nine came in yesterday and dropped this off at my office. They told me to read it through in case you did something like this, something 'irrational' as Seven of Nine put it.
"Here, you'll find a petition. Signed by all one hundred fifty-odd crew members of Voyager, and even by a. Neelix, whom apparently was contacted by Chakotay yesterday through use of the Midas Array." Paris took the PADD and tapped a control, giving it a hundredth once-over before turning it around and handing it to an extremely befuddled Janeway. Barclay looked on, his mouth hanging open a few centimeters in surprise.
There were a few moments of silence as the woman read through the text that served as a cover letter to the petition. Even the low hum of the surrounding equipment was audible as she studied the words.
Eyebrows rose and her face softened as she read the first few lines. She held a hand to her chest and glanced from Barclay to Paris, tears welling in her eyes as she quoted a few lines.
"'.without Janeway as the captain of our ship, the crew of Voyager never would have existed and never would have survived without her guidance. It was because of her strength, durability, and compassion for her crew that we made it through the Delta Quadrant. She is the reason behind our success. Her skills will be a great value in the future of Starfleet and the Federation. Please don't allow her to let them go to waste.'"
She silently skimmed the rest of the letter and managed to choke back the tears before Paris spoke again.
"By the way," Paris moved around a circular console, giving his speech something of a dramatic pause. "Voyager will have a new home soon."
She took a sharp breath and squared her shoulders before responding. "New home?"
"She will remain in Starfleet's historical museum for all to enjoy once Starfleet Intelligence is done with it in a few months. 'The Ship that Traveled the Galaxy,' that's what they'll call it. It will be accessible to anyone who wishes to learn about her."
Janeway smiled. She had to admit that seeing it in a museum was far better than seeing it cut up into thousands of pieces on the floor of Starfleet Intelligence's storage facility.
Paris' biting words interrupted Janeway's thoughts. "It's too bad that your story ends here."
Barclay nodded, echoing Paris' sentiment. "Too bad."
She smiled despite the trail of tears that found their way down her cheeks. She glanced from Barclay to Paris, then back down to the petition, and then raised her head.
Paris smiled, offering the resignation back to its author. He didn't have to speak.
"Sorry, Reg..." Janeway smiled, taking the PADD and deactivating it. "But is there any way I can get an exchange for admiral garb?"
"Captains log--"
The voice emitted a slight chuckle. "Well, I suppose I'm not the captain anymore. I have to stop doing that. But it's hard to break something you have known as habit for so long. Civilian life has been good to me."
She stood, suddenly uncomfortable despite the heavily cushioned chair, and moved to the window diagonal from her desk. She continued on with her log.
"Ever since we got back into port, it's been a week of non-stop parties-- today, a get-together sponsored by the crew of the Al-Batani, past and present. We traded stories. they on their reconnaissance missions into the Dominion. my encounters with the Borg."
She snorted lightly, turning away from the window and back towards her desk, a thumb pressing into her opposite palm.
"Now it seems to me that they think of me as some sort of hero." She rested her hands on the edge of the desk and shook her head. "I find it rather odd because. I don't see myself as a hero. I was a captain doing her duty to bring her crew home." She smirked and shook her head again. "Even if it did reduce Borg activity by an 'estimated seventy percent,' and manage to get Voyager's crew home simultaneously, thirty-odd years ahead of schedule."
She stood straight, her hands now resting on her hips. "Making it home was the only objective I had for Voyager... for me."
A hand moved to massage her temple. She moved a few feet to a couch and let her body fall into the cushions. "I have nothing but joy for my crew. The sight of them reunited with their friends and family makes me the happiest I've been in a long while. But."
Her voice trailed off as she stared into the shimmering view of San Francisco. She could barely make out the warm glowing light that outlined the Golden Gate. Oddly enough, it looked more dazzling from the view screen on Voyager.
"But I don't know if I can find the same comfort in my return. I know that I am home now, and should feel comfortable here on Earth, but Voyager was my only home with a family that I had for seven years. And yet here I am."
She peered around the dimly lit room. The only source of actual light was emanating from the computer screen to her back and the lights out side her window. Her world was dim and grey, nothing like that of the liveliness that had been on Voyager's decks. There was nothing there that would remind her of her constant duty as Starfleet captain, the small hum in the back of her head of her self proclaimed mission to get the crew home.
"And now that we are home ahead of schedule, I find myself not knowing what to do. It's like a long awaited shore leave and yet I want to go back to my ship. Not that it's possible.Starfleet Intelligence grabbed Voyager twenty hours after she arrived in spacedock."
"I knew we would have to give her up once we got back to the Alpha Quadrant. But that wasn't supposed to happen for years. If Admiral Janeway hadn't appeared, it would have taken us thirty years to get back home to Earth. and a part of me had accepted that. I was comfortable within Voyager's walls. It was where we were going to live until we made it back.
Her eyes looked up and towards the small, framed picture of Voyager set against the cold, grey walls of her apartment. There were others that were of her Intrepid class; same model, same shape, but with a different name, a different crew, and a different story behind each adventure. But this was Voyager. The ship, the ship, that had been stranded in the Delta Quadrant, thousands of light-years away from home. It was thought lost to the Federation, abandoned from all hope, and had miraculously survived and came home, then to be confiscated and taken away to be studied. dissected, so to speak, by Starfleet.
Their home.
But it wasn't their home anymore. It wasn't going to be her captaincy anymore either. She knew that. Janeway took a breath, and then let it go.
"Voyager belongs to the Federation and they have every right to put it under scrutiny. After all, with all the advancements we made to the ship to make it through the seven years on our own they would want to understand it. I would too. I would analyze the technology, the alien improvements and why Admiral Janeway had brought it with her from the future." That brought a small smile to her face. "The looks on their faces after reading my reports on the events taken place before we made it home is surely one that I will not forget for a very long time."
Janeway blinked and stared at the replicator console in the adjoining room. A red light flickered in the darkness from the panel eerily similar to the Borg lights.
"The anti-Borg technology and the knowledge that gave us the power to get Voyager home sooner and faster than ever expected. it's all under Federation microscopes."
"Computer, pause." She sighed walking through the doors to the replicator, the light flashing red upon her pale face. "Coffee, black."
The thousands of molecules swirled into place as the coffee was formed, and she carefully curled her fingers around the width of it. She blew on the surface of the beautiful black liquid and then shot a glance towards the computer. "Continue log."
She made her way back to the couch, but did not sit down, continuing to stare out towards the window. "The last I heard about Voyager was that it is still being examined by Starfleet Intelligence. I haven't been able to see much of her over the past week." She took small sip from the mug, the coffee burning at her lips. She raised the mug and smiled at the replicator.
"This is very good coffee, but not like that back home." She took another sip and continued with her log. "Voyager is probably being picked clean, being examined piece by piece and by the time they get through with her there will be nothing left but the grim skeletal frame of what was our home."
A scowl found it's way across her face but she didn't try to hide it. "We were only a scout ship. A ship not made for long-term deep space exploration, and yet we managed. They have hundreds of other Intrepid class ships. Why can't they study them? Why dissect a part of our victory?" She sighed. "I can't fathom the reason why they would turn it into one big science experiment. I would rather see her back out in space, exploring and doing what she does best with the crew that knows her well."
Janeway paused and quickly recalled many of her crew's faces as she did every night, trying to keep in contact with those she loved most. "But I don't think that's how it's going to be. Voyager will have no crew and no captain." She took another mild sip. "And what about everyone else? I wonder how they feel about this."
Everyone on the crew had to go through vigorous questioning after the celebration of returning home and the crew's reports were downloaded in record time. She had hardly had the chance to see the newest member of the Voyager family, Paris's daughter. Janeway chuckled. She was surprised that they didn't take the baby away to study as well.
"But they probably did take someone to study," she breathed so softly that the computer almost didn't register the voice. "To them Seven of Nine is probably another one of Voyager's scientific curiosities. I bet she knows how Captain Picard felt after his abduction." She shook her head and scowled, setting the coffee down. "She isn't Borg. Seven is human. And she should be treated accordingly. But I suppose Seven is one of the most exciting discoveries they've had since the Bajoran wormhole, but she shouldn't be treated so inhumanely. I have tried so long to show her, to make her realize that she was human and nothing else. I wonder if all my efforts of helping her were erased as soon as they put her on the examining table."
She set the coffee aside and leaned into herself, her head lying heavily on her hand, which was balanced by her elbow on her knees. "All my time in space, with my crew, my family." she paused and shook her head and stared straight towards the wall. "And Seven. All my efforts were completed. I managed to get bring my crew home, bring Voyager back in one piece, for better or for worse, and managed to bring Seven back to Earth to be with family."
Janeway looked down at her mug, searching for the rings moving outwards from the center. "After all those adventures and close calls, we made it. We pulled through." She shook her head and massaged her temple. "And yet again I am finding myself waking up in the night wondering if this is a dream. If our return to Earth was just an illusion cast by Q or our weary hopes of making it home."
She reached for her coffee and took a deep breath, trying to wrap herself within the smell. Trying to tuck herself within the warmth and find comfort and answers from the outside world which suddenly seemed cold and used up.
"What do I do now?" She asked herself. "What now?"
She quickly set down the coffee cup, spilling a little onto the table as she walked away to the small mirror before the bathroom. She stared at herself, searching for the lines she had continuously wore on Voyager, looking for the worry of not making it home and the fire that burned behind her eyes in making it her duty to take the ship back to the Alpha quadrant. She found nothing but somber brown eyes set in the paleness of her face staring back at her. She didn't know when the burn had dimmed from her eyes, or when she began to feel the nostalgia for Voyager but it didn't settle with her. She felt contained within this mandatory civilian life, trapped somehow, even with the open air and the ability to travel anywhere she wanted without the use of the holodeck. Then, suddenly, she started laughing.
It was more of a vehement chuckle actually-she leaned over the sink before she could double over, one hand on either side of the bowl. Still laughing, she shook her head slowly from side to side.
"What am I thinking?" She leaned her head back and stared up to the dark ceiling, finally recovering from the attack. "Here I am feeling sorry for myself when the fact is I just accomplished the impossible."
She stared up towards the mirror once more, letting her eyes roam over her own features for the second time. She seemed. old. Well, maybe 'old' wasn't the right word. Maybe. it was 'worn.' The woman she saw in the mirror was too well worn for continued service in Starfleet.
"Maybe I'm putting a strong connection between service in Starfleet and Voyager." She hung her head low for a moment and sighed. "Probably too strong of a connection. And I don't think it is something I can break."
She suddenly turned and moved back into the living room, and picked up a PADD. She then sat down on the couch, clearing the data on the PADD and pulling up an empty text file. She smirked slightly as she started keying words into the interface. "I think it's time to find a new me. Computer, end log."
She leaned back into the cushions of the furniture and continued keying in words. There she sat for several hours, late into the night and early morning. At the first hints of sunlight she was finally satisfied with what she had written. She saved the file and changed the display to one more suited for presentation, then tossed the PADD on a coffee table while she stripped out of her dinner dress and took a quick sonic shower.
She was on her way to pick up the PADD and leave when she spotted a Starfleet uniform, her uniform, spread out across her bed; the left sleeve crossing across the tunic's breast. It was one of Starfleet's latest uniforms, given to her by Reg Barclay and the Pathfinder team at one of the recent parties. She hadn't yet had the opportunity to try it on.
After a moment's consideration, she changed into the red, grey, and black uniform. She tugged on the front of the material, straightening it out, and examined herself in the mirror adjacent to the bed. She didn't look too bad in it, she decided. After all, she had to look since it would be the last time she would wear the uniform.
Without a further delay, she grabbed the PADD from the table she had left it at, and disappeared out the door of the apartment with a steady, confident pace.
***
"Captain Janeway, what an unexpected surprise!"
Reginald Barclay stood near one of the control stations in the Pathfinder control room in the Starfleet Communications Center building, having just arrived to work only a few moments before. His hands were clasped together nervously in front of him, but he wore a bright smile on his face. "Ah, I see you've tried on the new uniform."
Janeway smiled gaily at the engineer, clasping both her hands behind her back to hide the PADD she had come to deliver. "Fits like a dream, Reg. I just don't know how you got my size perfectly right."
Barclay smiled, pressing his palms together nervously. "S-s-o, captain, what can I do for you?"
"Actually, I was looking for Admiral Paris. Is he here?"
"Well, I-"
The doors to the lab swished open, and Janeway and Barclay turned to see Admiral Paris stride in, flanked on either side by an attaché, each wearing a Starfleet uniform. He looked fairly gruff, as usual, but his features lightened a bit when he spotted the captain.
"Captain Janeway!" He smiled and moved over to where Janeway and Barclay were standing. "Hello! What brings you to the Pathfinder lab this early in the morning?"
"Actually, I was looking for you, sir."
"Well, I'm a very busy man, but I'm sure I can find the time to appease one of my favorite captains." The old man's face bore a happy grin now.
"Captain, sir?" Barclay tilted his head characteristically to the side and smiled knowingly.
Janeway glanced from the engineer to the admiral, confused.
"Oh. well." He chuckled after a small pause. "We were going to wait until the little get-together party tonight, but Mister Barclay seems like he doesn't want to wait that long." He stepped past Barclay and offered his hand to Janeway, which the captain took after transferring the PADD she was carrying into her left hand.
"Congratulations on your promotion, Admiral Janeway."
"Admiral!" Barclay repeated the word excitedly, adding additional emphasis to the word.
Admiral Paris laughed, his free hand moving to clap her several times on the shoulder, and Barclay laughed with excitement. Janeway's lips, however, bore only a slight smile, and her eyes were fixated onto her hand as it clasped Paris'. Her throat had suddenly gone dry.
It wasn't long before the senior admiral noticed. "Too shocked to reply, eh Kathryn?"
Janeway's heart sank even further as she dragged her eyes up from Paris' hand and forced them to look up into the man's eyes. She released his hand and offered him the PADD she was holding with the other. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" He took the PADD and pressed a control to display the text of the message. "About what." His voice trailed off as his eyes scanned down the body of the message. By the time he was done, a distinctive frown had taken the place of the smile that had been there minutes before. "I see."
At that point, Barclay had to break in. "W-w-what is it, what's the message?"
Paris glanced. almost glared in Janeway's direction, then moved off to the side of the room, staring absent-mindedly into a computer display showing recent telemetry from the Midas Array. Barclay gave up on getting an answer from him and directed his attention towards Janeway, both his eyebrows raised in hopes of receiving an answer.
"I'm sorry this uniform won't get much use, Reg. At oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow, I will have officially resigned my commission in Starfleet."
"What?!" Barclay blinked incredulously at her before taking a few steps toward Paris, gesturing back to Janeway with a finger. "S-s-she can't do that!"
"I can, Reg, and I have." Janeway shot a glance over at Paris, who was still staring into various display panels. "I'm sorry." She turned to leave.
"Kathryn."
Janeway stopped in her tracks, her head falling forward and her eyes closing at the sound of Paris' voice.
"Kathryn, he's right. You. you can't leave. Not now."
Janeway turned, evidence of irritation easily visible in her face. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Paris sighed. He turned away from the consoles and towards the captain.
Janeway had expected something like this. She evened out her stance and folded her arms defiantly, but recomposed her features, in anticipation of a verbal barrage by the balding man. Paris cleared his throat, hesitating a moment before speaking.
"You know, Captain." He finally managed to look straight at her. " I could stand here and try to convince you that your experience would be a great benefit. That your experience with Borg technology and tactics would make an awesome complement to Starfleet Command's brass. That. your extraordinary perseverance and will would be able to help Starfleet and the Federation recuperate from the most destructive war in its history. I could even tell you that we have inconclusive evidence that the Romulans are planning an invasion of Federation space."
He was glaring into her eyes as he spoke, but as his voice dropped off, his look softened. "But that wouldn't make much of a difference. Would it."
It wouldn't make a difference. She knew that for sure. No matter how much it pained her to know that each and every point the Admiral had made was true, she couldn't change her mind. Paris understood that-Janeway didn't have to respond.
Paris nodded, seeing the response he foresaw in Janeway's facial features. "That's what I thought. Well, you do have the right, I can't stop you."
"What?!" Barclay had to pause to make sure he didn't step out of line with an emotional outburst. He closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself down and in an effort to keep himself from stuttering. "Y-you can't just let her resign like that!"
"It's her decision, Mister Barclay. There's nothing we can do."
Janeway exhaled, figuring she had survived the abbreviated verbal barrage she knew the Admiral would give her. She even offered him a smile. "Thank you for understanding, sir."
"I do my best to understand, Kathryn. But I don't know how well your crew will take it."
She glanced back at him, almost puzzled. "My crew, sir?"
He nodded. "Sure. They will be very disappointed." Paris folded his hands in front of him. "Crew evaluation reports go both ways, you know."
He let loose a slight chuckle. "If there was one thing your crew knew well, it was you. Especially that first officer of yours, Chakotay. He figured you might pull a crazy stunt like this." Without breaking eye contact with Janeway, he held out his right hand, fingers open. One of his attachés, a brunette woman who appeared to hold the rank of lieutenant, stepped forward and handed the admiral a PADD.
"Chakotay and Seven of Nine came in yesterday and dropped this off at my office. They told me to read it through in case you did something like this, something 'irrational' as Seven of Nine put it.
"Here, you'll find a petition. Signed by all one hundred fifty-odd crew members of Voyager, and even by a. Neelix, whom apparently was contacted by Chakotay yesterday through use of the Midas Array." Paris took the PADD and tapped a control, giving it a hundredth once-over before turning it around and handing it to an extremely befuddled Janeway. Barclay looked on, his mouth hanging open a few centimeters in surprise.
There were a few moments of silence as the woman read through the text that served as a cover letter to the petition. Even the low hum of the surrounding equipment was audible as she studied the words.
Eyebrows rose and her face softened as she read the first few lines. She held a hand to her chest and glanced from Barclay to Paris, tears welling in her eyes as she quoted a few lines.
"'.without Janeway as the captain of our ship, the crew of Voyager never would have existed and never would have survived without her guidance. It was because of her strength, durability, and compassion for her crew that we made it through the Delta Quadrant. She is the reason behind our success. Her skills will be a great value in the future of Starfleet and the Federation. Please don't allow her to let them go to waste.'"
She silently skimmed the rest of the letter and managed to choke back the tears before Paris spoke again.
"By the way," Paris moved around a circular console, giving his speech something of a dramatic pause. "Voyager will have a new home soon."
She took a sharp breath and squared her shoulders before responding. "New home?"
"She will remain in Starfleet's historical museum for all to enjoy once Starfleet Intelligence is done with it in a few months. 'The Ship that Traveled the Galaxy,' that's what they'll call it. It will be accessible to anyone who wishes to learn about her."
Janeway smiled. She had to admit that seeing it in a museum was far better than seeing it cut up into thousands of pieces on the floor of Starfleet Intelligence's storage facility.
Paris' biting words interrupted Janeway's thoughts. "It's too bad that your story ends here."
Barclay nodded, echoing Paris' sentiment. "Too bad."
She smiled despite the trail of tears that found their way down her cheeks. She glanced from Barclay to Paris, then back down to the petition, and then raised her head.
Paris smiled, offering the resignation back to its author. He didn't have to speak.
"Sorry, Reg..." Janeway smiled, taking the PADD and deactivating it. "But is there any way I can get an exchange for admiral garb?"