chapter forty: new phoenix rising
Voyager had settled down upon the great plains just south to Licknok Moor; the pinnacles of the Eminent Palace could be clearly seen through the viewscreen. Chakotay felt completely drained, weak: the rest of the crew probably did as well. But they were in one piece. That was good. "Status?" he asked.
"The Panizhe troops have completely overrun the city," reported Tuvok. "The Maldorian fleet is in retreat." The Vulcan fixed him with his steady gaze. "It would appear that we have won."
Victory… Somehow the word failed to bring an explosion of joy within him. The worry in his heart refused to let go. Was Kathryn alive? Or had she perished, along with countless others, her body never to be found? He turned to look at Dione. She was pale and shaking from the effort of setting Voyager down. "Have we still no contact with the outside world?"
Dione shook her head. "The Empress' grip is strong."
"It's failing," said Kes softly. "Give me a moment, I might be able to break through—"
Suddenly, a blinding ray of light shot out from the peak of the Eminent Palace. The brilliant white shaft extended skywards and seemed to spread until the whole world was engulfed in its intensity. Voyager's bridge shone with a breathtaking radiance that bled the shadows from everything and immersed them in a uniform whiteness. And the song—the song of the light! Chakotay could hear music soaring upon that light, lifted by wings of gold. The music touched his heart, permeated his soul, and carried him up along with it. In that timeless moment he thought he saw Janeway's face, superimposed upon the light, blending and becoming one with it.
The light traveled beyond the spaces between the planets, washing over the fleets and the sun, out into the cold depths of space and beyond. In that one instant the whole of the Eminence saw the light, and those who knew what it meant rejoiced, for they knew that change had finally triumphed and a new era had come.
Then almost as abruptly as it had come the light faded away, leaving them sitting stunned where they were. Very softly, Chakotay asked, "What was that?"
"The passing of an age," replied Dione, her voice a near-whisper. "All my life I have been waiting for this moment, and now it has finally come—" She stopped, unable to continue. The words had dried up in her throat; nothing could express the richness of the emotions she felt.
Kes turned to face the rest of them. "House Maldor has fallen," she said.
"That light…" said Kim slowly, his voice suffused with awe, "Was that the Light of Passing that I've been told about?"
"Yes," said Kes. Her brow creased slightly. "When the Ring of the Eminence passes from one House to another, it sends out the Light… as a beacon, so that the whole of the Eminence is aware of what has happened." She quieted. "When the Ring passes from one Empress to another…"
"That means that Nayrn Maldor is dead," said Chakotay.
Kes nodded, still lost in some thought.
He didn't hesitate. Myriam!
I am here. The war leader's voice sounded drained, tired.
We have won.
I know.
What… what of the Emissary? He couldn't bring himself to say her name.
He could almost hear her hollow laugh. The Emissary is no more, Chakotay. There never was an Emissary.
The Emissary is no more. The words refused to make an impact on him. Why didn't they? They should, they should! Kathryn was gone, everything they had planned for and hoped for was gone. He sat motionless in his chair, turning those words over and over in his mind.
What will be do now? He asked her.
There was a long pause before her reply. I do not know.
The new Empress' lack of direction was somewhat disquieting. I will go to Licknok Moor, he said.
Myriam cut her communications with Chakotay and stared into space. She felt suddenly empty inside. Seven came up to her. "The Maldorian troops have offered unconditional surrender," she intoned.
Myriam nodded wordlessly. What could she say in words that could express what she felt inside, truly? Her youngest child was gone. She had failed her. And what would become of House Ashkar? Another had been Chosen to rule. No, not just Chosen—she had been prophesized. The world as she knew it seemed to have just been turned on its head. "I must got to Licknok Moor," she said.
"I will come with you," offered Seven.
Myriam nodded. "Loess, you will oversee the daer while I am gone." The Seer nodded.
Distantly, they could hear the laughing of children outside; sounds of celebration. Myriam had far more important things to do.
The light had passed through them and was gone. Janeway stared at her hand in wonder. "What in the world… was that?" she asked in a whisper.
"I don't know," said Torres, her eyes stunned. She took a deep breath. "Whatever it was, it was… amazing."
Janae came up to them, bruised and bloody, but with a beatific expression on her face. She paused before Janeway, then fell to her knees amid the rubble. She said no words, but her message was obvious.
Janeway flexed her hand again, and watched as the golden tracery shifted and sparkled. It was mesmerizing. The Ring felt so light on her hand, yet it carried with it the immense weight of an Empire. Janeway thought of the thousands of worlds, the billions of individuals held in sway of its powers. The mere thought sent something akin to a windstorm whirling through her head. The weight of countless lives seemed to be crushing down upon her chest. She'd thought that the responsibility of captaining a ship was a heavy one. But now, she realized she hadn't grasped the nature of responsibility at all. She was wearing absolute power on her wrist, and it was simultaneously amazing and terrifying.
Torres put her hand on hers. "Captain?" she asked softly.
"Don't call me that," said Janeway. The thought of Voyager's destruction suddenly sent a new kind of pang through her. "I'm not even sure if I deserve that title anymore."
"You always will," said Torres firmly, "You always will." She took Janeway's hand in a firm grip. "Let's see how the others are doing." She helped Janae to her feet, and together the three of them left the throne room.
In the interior of the Palace, the children were singing. Slaves to the Maldorian Empire, these children had been downtrodden beasts of burden, oppressed and caged. Many of them were orphans of the rebellion, living their lives in misery. Now they sang gladly in the corridors, singing the forbidden folk songs of hope and joy that they had secretly sung at night in a rebellion of their own. Now they could do it openly. Many were running in excitement, or jumping as high as they could, as if they were jumping for the stars.
The wolfchild laughed too. Borne aloft by the strong wings of Falkner and Falda, she swooped through the main corridor. The wings of the seraphim twins had finally grown enough for them to fly, and they had secretly practiced their skills in private. Now they soared through the Palace, laughing at their new-found freedom. Carried between them, the wolfchild thought she'd never felt so happy in her life. It was almost like a dream. Oh, please don't let it be a dream, I don't want this sweetness to end!
She spied a familiar face in the throng of children below. "Calista!" The young Ashkari spy—well, no longer, she thought suddenly—looked up and waved at them. "Bring us down!" she told the seraphim twins.
With a whoop of delight Falkner steered them towards the ground. Some of the children scattered at their approach, but others welcomed them with open arms. The wolfchild jumped from between the twins and hit the ground running. "We've won, we've won!" she cried as she reached out and engulfed Calista in a huge bearhug.
Calista was laughing and crying at the same time. "I can't believe it, I can't believe it! It's over!"
"No more being laughed at and poked fun at—"
"No more sneaking around, no more looking over our shoulders every time we want to talk—"
"We're free!"
Falkner and Falda had joined them. "Yes, we are," said Falkner in his deep melodic voice.
A huge smile creased the wolfchild's face. "It doesn't feel real."
"It is," said Falda. She took the wolfchild by the shoulders. "Believe it, Adolphian, believe it."
"Adolphian?" The wolfchild looked puzzled.
"A name I saw in my dream last night," said Falda with a smile on her face. "It sounded like yours."
The wolfchild laughed. "I like it."
Calista seized Falkner's and Adolphian's hands. "Let us go meet my mother!" And so saying they ran towards the throne room.
The streets of Licknok Moor were a mess. The fighting had destroyed a great deal of infrastructure; collapsed buildings filled streets littered with dead bodies and detritus. Broken waterlines spouted great rivulets high into the air; where the arcs touched ground, they washed the blood and dirt from the streets. As people came out from hiding and assessed the wreckages of their lives, they realized the great change that had come upon them. Some lamented, but there were many who rejoiced.
Across the world, across the universe, the same scenes were replayed over and over. In city squares, in living rooms, on starships: people jumped and wept for joy, or stood speechless, or held hands and hugged in an ecstasy of wonder. And the word was in the air: a new age had begun.