Title: Tales From The Government-In-Exile
Author: nostalgia
Rated: PG
Summary: Kathryn Janeway, post-homecoming.
Disclaimathon: Paramount, blah, blah, etc.
Blah: I suspect this of being an AU.
------
They took away her servants and dismantled her court. She watched in
silence as belongings were packed neatly into boxes and names were
scored from the list. She saw her power leave her. She nodded and
smiled as she graciously accepted mumbled apologies, agreed when they
told her that she should take some leave, kept her silence when they
talked about stress levels and psychological analyses. What did they
know? What did any of them know?
The Queen is dead, long live the civilian.
Of course, they told her that she was free to return, that they still
valued her expertise. She remembered these assurances even now,
sitting in a house by the beach after an enforced year-long vacation.
"They seem to think I went crazy in the Delta Quadrant. That all that
isolation affected my mind." She raised the coffee cup to her
lips. "What do you think, Seven?"
"They are incorrect."
Kathryn smiled over the rim of the cup. Seven was a wonderful
protegee.
"Your condition deteriorated after our return to the Alpha Quadrant."
Now that was unexpected. Mutiny from the only person she still
thought of as hers. She settled the cup back on the table. "I hope
you can back that up, Seven. I'm not very friendly to people who
question my sanity."
Was that a blush? The skin around the remaing Borg implants turned
pinker as the woman spoke; "I had assumed I was to speak frankly. I
apologise if I was mistaken in that belief."
"You've said it now, you may as well make your case." Kathryn leaned
back in her seat, crossed her legs at the ankles. "I'd be interested
to hear your opinion. You've certainly known me long enough to be
entitled to speak freely." She curved her lips in a bitter
smile. "And I'm not your captain any more, so it can't be
insubordination to tell me what's on your mind."
Seven nodded, and her blushes subsided. "I believe that is the cause
of your...problems. As captain of Voyager you had clear goals and
considerable authority. Completion of the task you had set for
yourself has had an adverse effect on your health."
"The bitch is upset because she's lost her control of the pack?"
Seven didn't even blink, "Precisely."
She dismissed the accusation with a wave of her hand. "You're wrong.
I feel abandoned, yes, but I don't spend my days fantasising about
ordering people around."
"You were a God, now you are merely a subject."
"Theology, Seven? But, of course, you're on, what, your third major
religion?"
"I am seeking to improve myself. While many of these systems may
appear primitive to you, I find that the required mental discipline
is an invaluable aid to self-analysis."
The deposed God nodded. "Well, I suppose if you're used to taking
orders, it must be comforting for you to have something to obey."
"You are attempting to undermine my argument by applying amateur
psychology to my own activities. It will fail."
"Not that you ever listened to a damn thing I said anyway."
"I listened to you often. That fact that I disagreed with you on a
number of occasions is a seperate issue."
"And now you're just playing semantics."
"Cap...Kathryn, I-"
"Freudian slip, Seven?" She smiled - she still owned this one, even
if the others had abandoned her.
"I am still...unused to referring to you by your new designation. I
am sorry."
Oh, so am I, Seven, so am I... "I always expected that you'd revert
back to Anneka when we finally got home."
"That name has no resonance for me."
"And you're used to being 'Seven'."
"As you were used to being 'Captain'."
"I was 'Captain' for seven years, it takes quite a bit to go back to
being 'Kathryn'."
"You will succeed."
"Starfleet don't seem to think so. Why else do you think I'm on
indefinate leave?"
"You defeated the Borg on a number of occasions. You also managed to
maintain morale and solidarity among a crew thousands of light years
from their homeworlds. You are..." The blush was back, "Unstoppable."
Kathryn leaned forward, knocking the table as she uncrossed her legs.
She ignored the spill from the coffee cup and focussed on the woman
in front of her. "Who sold me out, Seven, who told them I was crazy?"
"I will not divulge that information."
"Was it Tuvok? No, he's far too loyal...Chakotay? Tom?"
"I will not-"
"Fine. I'll find out eventually."
"I know."
"Of course you do, you've met me." She glanced down at the table and
frowned. "And now I've spilled my coffee." She stood up, "I'll get a
cloth."
Seven moved to stand, "I will clean this."
"I'm not an invalid, Seven."
The woman settled back down on the sofa, "My apologies."
"Besides, it's getting late. You should head back. I'm sure someone
will miss you." She rememerged from the kitchen with an off-white
rag.
"I have no urgent obligation. I wish to stay."
Kathryn knelt to wipe away the spilled liquid. "I'm sure I'm getting
clumsier in my old age."
Seven stood and took the cloth from her hand. "I will make more
coffee."
And Captain Janeway smiled. She still had her worshipper; she was
still a God.
Author: nostalgia
Rated: PG
Summary: Kathryn Janeway, post-homecoming.
Disclaimathon: Paramount, blah, blah, etc.
Blah: I suspect this of being an AU.
------
They took away her servants and dismantled her court. She watched in
silence as belongings were packed neatly into boxes and names were
scored from the list. She saw her power leave her. She nodded and
smiled as she graciously accepted mumbled apologies, agreed when they
told her that she should take some leave, kept her silence when they
talked about stress levels and psychological analyses. What did they
know? What did any of them know?
The Queen is dead, long live the civilian.
Of course, they told her that she was free to return, that they still
valued her expertise. She remembered these assurances even now,
sitting in a house by the beach after an enforced year-long vacation.
"They seem to think I went crazy in the Delta Quadrant. That all that
isolation affected my mind." She raised the coffee cup to her
lips. "What do you think, Seven?"
"They are incorrect."
Kathryn smiled over the rim of the cup. Seven was a wonderful
protegee.
"Your condition deteriorated after our return to the Alpha Quadrant."
Now that was unexpected. Mutiny from the only person she still
thought of as hers. She settled the cup back on the table. "I hope
you can back that up, Seven. I'm not very friendly to people who
question my sanity."
Was that a blush? The skin around the remaing Borg implants turned
pinker as the woman spoke; "I had assumed I was to speak frankly. I
apologise if I was mistaken in that belief."
"You've said it now, you may as well make your case." Kathryn leaned
back in her seat, crossed her legs at the ankles. "I'd be interested
to hear your opinion. You've certainly known me long enough to be
entitled to speak freely." She curved her lips in a bitter
smile. "And I'm not your captain any more, so it can't be
insubordination to tell me what's on your mind."
Seven nodded, and her blushes subsided. "I believe that is the cause
of your...problems. As captain of Voyager you had clear goals and
considerable authority. Completion of the task you had set for
yourself has had an adverse effect on your health."
"The bitch is upset because she's lost her control of the pack?"
Seven didn't even blink, "Precisely."
She dismissed the accusation with a wave of her hand. "You're wrong.
I feel abandoned, yes, but I don't spend my days fantasising about
ordering people around."
"You were a God, now you are merely a subject."
"Theology, Seven? But, of course, you're on, what, your third major
religion?"
"I am seeking to improve myself. While many of these systems may
appear primitive to you, I find that the required mental discipline
is an invaluable aid to self-analysis."
The deposed God nodded. "Well, I suppose if you're used to taking
orders, it must be comforting for you to have something to obey."
"You are attempting to undermine my argument by applying amateur
psychology to my own activities. It will fail."
"Not that you ever listened to a damn thing I said anyway."
"I listened to you often. That fact that I disagreed with you on a
number of occasions is a seperate issue."
"And now you're just playing semantics."
"Cap...Kathryn, I-"
"Freudian slip, Seven?" She smiled - she still owned this one, even
if the others had abandoned her.
"I am still...unused to referring to you by your new designation. I
am sorry."
Oh, so am I, Seven, so am I... "I always expected that you'd revert
back to Anneka when we finally got home."
"That name has no resonance for me."
"And you're used to being 'Seven'."
"As you were used to being 'Captain'."
"I was 'Captain' for seven years, it takes quite a bit to go back to
being 'Kathryn'."
"You will succeed."
"Starfleet don't seem to think so. Why else do you think I'm on
indefinate leave?"
"You defeated the Borg on a number of occasions. You also managed to
maintain morale and solidarity among a crew thousands of light years
from their homeworlds. You are..." The blush was back, "Unstoppable."
Kathryn leaned forward, knocking the table as she uncrossed her legs.
She ignored the spill from the coffee cup and focussed on the woman
in front of her. "Who sold me out, Seven, who told them I was crazy?"
"I will not divulge that information."
"Was it Tuvok? No, he's far too loyal...Chakotay? Tom?"
"I will not-"
"Fine. I'll find out eventually."
"I know."
"Of course you do, you've met me." She glanced down at the table and
frowned. "And now I've spilled my coffee." She stood up, "I'll get a
cloth."
Seven moved to stand, "I will clean this."
"I'm not an invalid, Seven."
The woman settled back down on the sofa, "My apologies."
"Besides, it's getting late. You should head back. I'm sure someone
will miss you." She rememerged from the kitchen with an off-white
rag.
"I have no urgent obligation. I wish to stay."
Kathryn knelt to wipe away the spilled liquid. "I'm sure I'm getting
clumsier in my old age."
Seven stood and took the cloth from her hand. "I will make more
coffee."
And Captain Janeway smiled. She still had her worshipper; she was
still a God.
