Cœur de Lion
By Katie
Chapter 15 Game Over
When Kathryn Janeway woke from her artificially induced coma, she didn't at first know where she was, or who, for that
matter. There was another personality present in her mind, the
personality of a woman who was very much like her, and yet
wasn't. Kathryn knew Catherine, after all she'd given her body to
her during the games on the Holodeck. It was as though she'd been
an observer, a voyeur even, in her own body, watching the life of a
Maquis leader. It was a disturbing experience, worse even than
watching herself cradled in Chakotay's arms, dying on an alien
planet because an alien entity was hungry for her soul.
She'd slept with Chakotay. Of course it wasn't Chakotay
she'd slept with, and it hadn't been her who'd slept with him, either.
It had been their alter egos that had made love to each other using
the bodies of Kathryn and Chakotay. But there had been more to it,
and once Kathryn realized this it sent icy shivers up and down her
spine. A great deal of her own personality had been—and still
was—part of Catherine Leroux, and it had been this part that had
finally given into letting Chakotay into her life. She also knew that
as much of Kathryn Janeway had been part of Catherine Leroux as
had Chakotay been part of Frank Miller.
But they hadn't only slept together. There had been more to
it. They had made love, because they had fallen in love with each
other. Falling in love with Chakotay was a luxury Kathryn hadn't
allowed herself, despite her better knowledge that, eventually, she
wouldn't be able to withhold her strong feelings for her First
Officer any longer. She had been well aware that she'd need a
catalyst that would finally set her free. The Hirogen with their sick
games and brain-washing neural interfaces had been that catalyst.
Kathryn wasn't sure if she was happy about that. Sure, with
Chakotay—or Frank or whatever—she'd felt like a woman again,
and she'd become another person, an even stronger person than
she'd been before. She'd undergone the same change as Catherine
had. It hadn't done any harm to her, on the contrary.
But this had happened while under the influence of a mind-
controlling device, there was no proof that it would work in real
life as well. And back to real life they were by now, at least did
Kathryn hope so. As soon as they were Starfleet officers again, and
submitted not to a neural interface but strict Starfleet protocol,
there would be no place for a life like this. They hadn't fallen in
love upon their own will, they had been manipulated.
And why could something like that have happened?
Because she'd lost control. But her affair with Chakotay wasn't the
point. The point was that by losing control she'd put the lives of her
crew at risk, and with it the life of Voyager. Kathryn didn't want to
think more about it, or otherwise she would have gotten sick. How
could she have let that happen? She felt so humiliated at the
thought of being used as someone's toy. After all she was used to
making her own decisions and mistakes, to living her own life. She
wasn't owned by anyone but herself.
But was she? Kathryn painfully realized that she in fact
was owned by her strong determination to get this crew home. In a
way, the crew were having a pretty powerful instrument at their
hands with her weakest point. But they'd never use it against her,
she knew that. She trusted her crew completely, as they trusted her.
Just then the doors to Sickbay hissed open and let
somebody enter. Kathryn turned her head into the direction of the
doors to see who'd come. It was Naomi Wildman, standing there
wide-eyed, clutching a padd. Kathryn looked at her in alarm and
sat up in one swift motion. The muscles in her abdomen were still
sore and ached dully when she sat up, but the woman ignored it.
What was important to her now was to find out if the little girl was
all right.
"Naomi!" she softly called, angry that her voice broke. She
hadn't drunken anything in a long time.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Captain," the girl answered, taking a step
backward, yet uncertain what she should do. She certainly hadn't
expected the captain to be awake.
"Don't be," Kathryn said after she'd cleared her voice. She
smiled at her. "Come on over here and stay with me for a while. I
don't want to be alone." *I don't want to think,* she added silently.
Any distraction was welcome to her now. Not that Naomi was such
unbidden a visitor or company to have, on the contrary. Kathryn
had less time at her disposal to talk to the girl every now and then
than she cared to admit.
"Okay," Naomi said. Hesitantly she walked to the vacant
biobed next to the Captain's. She carefully put her padd on and
then climbed on it. She could look at the Captain without having to
crane her neck, and she was in what Naomi called *safe distance*.
The memory of the Captain hugging her was still very real in her
mind. Naomi wasn't afraid of the Captain. It was just that her
mother had impressed on her not to bother the Captain. She was a
very busy woman who wasn't to burden any more than she already
was. The girl still didn't know what had caused the Captain to hug
her, but there must have been a reason for it. You don't hug people
out of the blue. And since Naomi still didn't know she was very
insecure as how to act around the Captain.
"Tell me," Kathryn began, now sitting with her legs
dangling over the edge of the bed. "What makes you come here?
You aren't ill, are you?"
"No. I'm just in everybody's way now that they are so busy.
I come here because it's the only place where I can practice reading
without disturbing anyone," Naomi explained.
Kathryn's heart warmed. The child really was a blessing to
the ship. Not that she'd ever not wanted her to be around. The Delta
Quadrant simply wasn't the right playground for children; it even
wasn't for a certain Starfleet vessel at times. But theirs wasn't a
game. Life wasn't a game. "So it was you who's been there with me
all the time," she deduced. "I remember hearing voices and people
around me, and I remember someone reading to me, but I can't
recall what it was, I'm afraid."
Kathryn hadn't just said this. It was true, she had heard
voices and people around her. But somehow she hadn't been able to
lift the heavy blanket off her consciousness. And she really
remembered someone reading to her. It must have been reading,
for the tone and intonation weren't that of people speaking freely.
Naomi's face lit up. The ice between her and the Captain
was broken. She couldn't possibly being bothering the Captain if it
was her who wanted to talk with her, now, could she? "Yes! I'm
reading *The Wind in the Willows*. It's my favorite book."
"Oh, and you're making a very good job of it," Kathryn
praised her, noticing the girl's face flush crimson with pride. "Now,
where did you stop the last time?"
"You want me to read for you?"
Kathryn shrugged. "Yes, of course. I haven't read the book
in a long time." There were a million questions whirling around in
her mind that she wanted answered, but she didn't want to disturb
Naomi. She—no, Catherine—remembered quite vividly what had
happened to Naomi's character on the Holodeck. She needed to be
careful around her, and so reading was the safest thing she could
do. Besides, she *really* hadn't read the book in a very long time.
She'd loved it very much when she'd been little.
"Okay." She took the padd, opened it and went to the
bookmark she'd made. Naomi cleared her throat, and began:
"Chapter 7: The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. The Willow-Wren
was twittering his thin little song, hidden himself in the dark
selvedge of the river bank. Though it was past ten o'clock at night,
the sky still clung to and retained some lingering skirts of light
from the departed day; and the sullen heats of the torrid afternoon
broke up and ..."
B'Elanna covered the small sleeping form carefully with a
quilt, making sure that her son could breathe properly. He was
looking so perfect, too perfect as though she could believe that she
would never see him grow up. He had inherited the cerulean blues
of his father, but that was about everything. The color of his sparse
hair was B'Elanna's own dark brown, and if she let her finger glide
across his forehead, she could feel the Klingon ridges ever so
faintly. But they would develop only a little more, of that the
Doctor had assured her. Taken, of course, that the child would live
long enough.
"How's he doing, Doc?" she heard Tom ask the Doctor.
"Considering the circumstances he's doing unexpectedly
good," the Hologram replied.
"And?" Tom pressed.
"That increases his life expectancy by a couple of days, but
not more, I'm afraid," the Doctor answered patiently. He didn't
know how many times he'd already answered this question. But
that was only natural. What parents wanted to see their child die,
after all? He still couldn't believe how the Hirogen had been able to
do something like this—from an ethical point of view.
Tom sighed. "Yes. I know we should be grateful, which we
truly are, but ..." Tom didn't finish his sentence.
The Doctor padded the pilot reassuringly on the shoulder.
"I can't imagine any better parents for Samuel than you. Well, I'll
visit again tonight."
"Thank you, Doctor." "...but it hurts so much," B'Elanna finished the sentence for
her boyfriend after the Doctor had dematerialized. Ever since she'd
learned about Samuel her Human side had taken over. Tom
summed it up as her feminine side. She was all a mother now. She
was still an engineer, of course, but when first damage reports had
turned out quite positive, she'd turned over Engineering to Joe
Carey. The Hirogen's reparations included abundant supplies for
replacing the broken Holodecks, particularly the holes in the walls.
What was to happen with the enhanced Holodeck generators was
yet to be decided upon.
But nothing of that mattered to B'Elanna as much as her
son. Chakotay had given her as much time off as she needed, as he
had to Tom. They were important officers, but considering their
present situation and needs, nothing seemed important enough to
Chakotay to deny them the time they needed.
Samuel was born the same night his parents had learned
about him. The Doctor had deemed it wise to perform a c-section.
He hadn't been sure whether the boy would have survived a natural
birth, and he hadn't wanted to take the risk of beaming him out of
his mother's womb either. As it turned out, Samuel was the most
beautiful baby-boy ever born on Voyager—which was even true.
Nobody could quite believe that he'd never grow up. The Doctor
could have replaced his underdeveloped organs, but that would
have been needless. The boy's brain was underdeveloped as well,
and this couldn't be replaced. Any operations would only have
complicated his life and made it almost unbearable. So together
with Tom and B'Elanna the Doctor had decided to let him enjoy his
life as it was.
This was what hurt so much. But at least Samuel could
learn what it meant to being loved. Giving him all their love was
the one thing that lay completely in his parents' hands, and they
weren't going to not enjoy any second of it.
B'Elanna had settled down on the couch, her legs drawn up
to her chest, covered with her favorite quilt. One of her arms was
resting on the edge of the crib her son was sleeping in. It once had
been Naomi Wildman's crib. No one on Voyager would have
thought that they'd need the most pleasant piece of furniture
parents had to get so soon again. Until then, it had been packed
away somewhere in Cargobay 2.
Tom got themselves something to drink from the replicator
and then joined his girlfriend on the couch. He handed her one of
the mugs, then he sat in silence to watch over his son's slumber.
Samuel was breathing regularly, his lungs weren't that
underdeveloped. *You mustn't think of that,* he scolded himself.
*Think about how beautiful he is, how perfect.*
"Tom?"
"Hm," he murmured absentmindedly.
"I was wondering if we will be able to love a child that
much as we love him," B'Elanna said.
"I don't know. I think so," Tom shrugged.
B'Elanna sighed. "I'm not sure. I mean ... I don't know if I
could go through losing another child again."
He was silent. Then he mused: "But another child would be
created, nurtured and given birth to out of love, you know. Besides,
we owe him that his siblings remember him as the bravest and
strongest boy who ever lived on Voyager. The Doctor said he'd live
longer, after all, if only for one day."
B'Elanna smiled through the hated veil of tears that once
again blurred her vision. "If you say so. You know what?" she
asked, smiling. She shifted her arm from the edge of the crib to
resting on Tom's chest. "You know about the weak spots of
Klingons so damn well, and you're the cutest father I've ever seen."
"B'Ela ..." "Shh," the half-Klingon woman quieted her lover by
covering his lips with her fingers. "If you're ready to go through it
again, so am I. I don't trust anyone more than the man I love."
Tom swallowed hard. It still was a miracle for him what he
had done that he deserved being happy, or being in love with
B'Elanna. But whatever he'd done, he swore to himself that he'd
keep doing it. And he had promised to the Captain that he'd never
stop loving B'Elanna, come what might—that he'd promised that
under the influence of a mind-controlling device didn't make any
difference. He'd loved her as Bobby Davies, and he still loved her
as Tom Paris. Love would always be love, and there was no greater
law for man—or so Chaucer had claimed, if he remembered his
literature classes correctly.
"... Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as
the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught
him up, and possessed him utterly. He saw the tears on his
comrade's cheeks, and bowed his head and understood. For a space
..." Naomi read in her clear child's voice. Kathryn had until then
listened intently to the story, had seen the Mole and the Rat row
their little boat down the River in search for Portly. She loved this
chapter of *The Wind in the Willows*, although literary criticism
wasn't sure if children understood the mystical experience the
animals made in it. *He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks,
and bowed his head and understood.*
The sentence touched something deep within her, and she sensed rather than realized that the Mole should be wearing a tattoo
on his left temple. This simple sentence, written centuries ago,
summed up all what there was between her and her First Officer.
Chakotay always bowed his head and understood, but he never
dared cross the barrier and make her stop crying. But it was her
own fault. She wouldn't let him. Again she wondered why it was so
hard for her to let him into her life. One of her safety nets was
already gone, and the other one was starting to get holes as well.
What if she kept pushing him away, would he be there to catch her
when her other net broke as well?
Kathryn wasn't sure. What kind of thoughts were these, by
the way? A Captain didn't need a safety net, it was too dangerous.
So better erect a wall around oneself, stone was more durable than
thread, and there were no holes through which bits of her self could
escape and indulge in thoughts like these.
Naomi had of course not noticed her listener's thoughts
steal away on the floating music of the story, so immersed was she
in her reading. So she didn't even notice the holographic Doctor
materialize next to her. He sat his old-fashioned black doctor's bag
on the edge of the biobed she was occupying. When she stopped to
clear her throat that had gone dry from reading out loud for so
long, she noticed him. And blushed a deep crimson.
The Doctor put a calming hand on her thin shoulder.
Kathryn smiled and was about to open her mouth to say something,
but the Doctor forestalled her. "Thank you, Miss Wildman. You
did a very good job," he praised Naomi. The girl only blushed
deeper, beaming at the same time with pride. She was so glad that
she could be of help to all those awfully busy grownups, but what
was even more, she now had the certainty that she hadn't
misbehaved on the Holodeck.
"Doctor?" Kathryn asked curiously. She wanted some
answers, now.
"I've asked Naomi to look after you while I was on a
house-call," he explained. "She was with you most of the time, you
were babysitting each other so to say."
Kathryn nodded, uncertain of what the Doctor was trying
to tell her—or rather avoiding to tell her. "What does that mean?"
she demanded to know, her voice dangerously calm.
"Well, that means that we have eventually succeeded in
getting rid of the Hirogen," the Doctor said casually, fiddling open
his bag. He produced his tricorder and began to scan Kathryn with
it. Nothing was more unnerving to Kathryn than the Doctor's
scanning her with the tricorder when she wanted answers.
Especially in a situation like this, when her crew were held
prisoner on their own ship, and treated like toys. She drew in a
sharp breath, she didn't want to explode in front of the girl.
"Commander Chakotay has scheduled a staff meeting for
this afternoon, he'll explain everything to you then," the hologram
informed her. "But until then, you stay here with me. I've yet got to
finish your treatment and declare you fit for duty."
Kathryn looked daggers at the hologram. There were only two people aboard this ship whose behavior of that kind she
tolerated—but only because she had no other choice—, the
Doctor's and Seven's. With them, resistance was often futile, and
Kathryn had had time enough to realize when this was the case. It
was the best thing she could do with a hologram that had an
attitude and a very pronounced ego, and with a spoiled six-year-old
ex-Borg in the body of a playmate-of-the month.
Kathryn decided to change tactics. If he didn't want to tell
her about how they'd finally broken free from the control of the
Hirogen, she at least wanted to know what was going on now.
"So," she began in a casual tone, "you made a house-call?"
"Yes," the Doctor replied cryptically. He shut his tricorder.
"Please lie down, Captain. Naomi, would you please leave us alone
for a moment?" The girl nodded, hopped off the bed, grabbed her
padd and withdrew into the Doctor's office.
The Doctor removed the compress from Kathryn's thigh, and examined the healed wound. There wasn't even a hint of a scar left on her pale skin. While he was running another scan, he
explained: "Captain, I visited Lieutenants Torres and Paris, and ..."
The Doctor interrupted himself. How should he tell the Captain
about her new godson, and that he was dying?
"And? Doctor, please!" Kathryn said impatiently. She lay
still on the bed, letting the Doctor treat hear, but she ached to know
what he had to tell her. He obviously was having difficulties telling
her, and she wondered what it could be. She just hoped that neither
B'Elanna nor Tom were in danger. If the Doctor had to visit them
... she didn't dare go on thinking. She didn't want to lose either of
them.
"I looked after their son. He is critically ill. He won't
survive the month, I'm afraid."
Kathryn didn't know what to say or think. "They have a
son?" she eventually managed.
The Doctor sighed, put down his instruments and told her
the whole story.
Kathryn insisted that Tom and B'Elanna stay with Samuel, she almost had to order them to stay with him instead of attending
the staff meeting. Just for once, she let them disobey her orders.
Frankly, she wanted them to attend the meeting, too, she wanted to
have her closest crew around her when she learned about what had
happened since the explosion on the Holodeck. But she didn't have
the heart to separate them from Samuel, either. The two of them
convinced her that this was okay; they wanted to be there when the
story of their struggle was told. And there were enough crew who
literally fought over babysitting Samuel. Since the little boy was
doing so well, better than expected, his parents insisted on
attending the meeting.
"It's good to have you back, Captain," Harry offered, after
he'd entered the conference room. The relief on his face was barely
to be missed, and a grateful smile tugged at Kathryn's lips. She also
noticed that it was all the young Asian could do to hug her.
"Thank you, Harry," she smiled at him. From the corner of
her eyes she saw Chakotay's gaze resting on her. Somehow she felt guilty.
Who was she to deny him his happiness? She exchanged
quick glances with him, and she clearly saw the question in his
eyes, the question that would steal into her conscious whenever she
didn't keep her mind occupied. Otherwise, Chakotay kept his face
perfectly straight, as it became a First Officer. The conference
room wasn't the proper place to discuss such a personal thing.
"Well, let's get started," Kathryn said, gesturing for them to
sit and report as they usually would.
But this time, they couldn't follow protocol. Their tasks
had been different from their usual tasks this time, and so they had
to tell rather than report to their Captain what had happened. After
the Hirogen had been sent to sleep with the help of the Borg
nanoprobes, they had been held hostage in the cargobay, so that the
Hirogen ships escorting Voyager couldn't do anything to free their
people. Chakotay and Tuvok had continued their negotiations with
the Hirogen medic Ysakc S'huna; later the Alpha Hirogen, Kaar
Eleng, had joined them. He had Ysakc inform Chakotay and Tuvok
that he wasn't quite satisfied with the way his medic stood in for
him, and that he'd appreciate it very much if he could join them.
"And how did it go from then?" Kathryn wanted to know
when Tuvok paused in his report.
"Better, actually," Chakotay said. "Kaar cared to explain
himself to us. He is one of the very few Hirogen who has realized
that his people can't go on like this, roving through the sector
looking for prey. Maybe we should listen to his speech, we both
found it quite impressive. Maybe it'll help explain our decision."
The Dorvanian exchanged glances with the Vulcan, and much to
the others' surprise, there was something like silent communication
between them, an understanding that hadn't been there before;
before the two men had been enemies, even more so when
Chakotay found that there had been yet another traitor among his
cell—but this traitor wasn't the last to be discovered. Tuvok
nodded in agreement, stood and activated the screen of the
conference room.
The armadillo face of the Alpha Hirogen appeared on the
screen. A nasty scar went from the equivalent of his left eyebrow
down across his cheek in a perfectly vertical line. The Hirogen was
clad in medieval clothes rather than the shiny obsidian-colored
armour.
"We've lost our way. We've allowed our predatory instincts
to dominate us. We've dispersed ourselves throughout the quadrant,
sending ships in all directions. We've become a solitary race,
isolated. We've lost our culture in the pursuit of what we must do.
But I've realized that we can't go on like this. We'll die if we don't
allow ourselves to develop. One day, there won't be any prey left
for us to hunt, or we'll meet more ships with such a brave and
determined crew like yours. I've realized that we must find a cure
for our addiction, out of our own will and power. Only then we can
come together again and reunite our people. We will be able to live
on our homeworld as the peaceful people we've once been—the
Hirogen, Those-Who-Hunt-for-Their-Needs. Thanks to you my
crew have realized this—except for Sarpa Tarench—and they are
now ready to pursue a new way."
The recording ended here, and for a while, everyone was
silent. "That sounds rather impressive, Commander," Kathryn
eventually said. "But in what way did it influence the negotiation?"
"They couldn't compensate for the psychical damage
they've done, but they left us enough supplies to repair the damage,
and they left the additional power sources they'd had Engineering
to install so the function of the Holodecks could be enhanced.
They've provided us with a mark on the hull so we don't be
bothered by other Hirogen. And they've assured us of their eternal
gratefulness," Chakotay summarized.
"I hate people who are condescending when they
apologize," Kathryn commented. "Their eternal gratefulness
doesn't help little Samuel one bit, or all the others, for that matter,"
she added bitterly.
Silence spread in the room once more. "You sound pretty
disappointed, Captain," Tom eventually said.
Kathryn looked at her pilot askance. How could he say this
when he and B'Elanna were the two who were suffering most from
the cruelty of the Hirogen? "I don't feel like dancing an Irish jig
right now," she explained.
"I think the Hirogen have in fact given more to us than
they've taken," Tom said, bending over the table to be closer to the
Captain. *Why wouldn't she see the good in it?* he asked himself.
"Look, you were in a coma, so you haven't noticed yet, but the
crew has grown closer in the past three and a half weeks. We are
family now, more than we've been before. God knows we're
hurting, but what we've gained is more than what we've lost."
Kathryn shook her head. "No!" she almost exclaimed.
"What about the casualties? Three people dead, and your son
dying! We were raped, both mentally and physically, and ..."
"Yes." Seven chimed in. She had been silent so far. "That
is correct. But I have to agree when Lieutenant Paris says that our
... community has grown stronger."
Kathryn looked at the blonde woman in disbelief. She was
used to being second-guessed by her, but she'd never had even
thought this possible. If the Doctor ... *Yes, you could be sure he'd
have his own two cents to add,* she thought bitterly when the
Doctor opened his mouth to speak.
"As far as I've been told, the crew from the Holodecks only
remember the events in Sainte Claire and Acre, which hardly were
traumatizing. The Klingon simulation had been turned off by Kaar
himself, since it wasn't his interest any longer that his people hunt
ours down," he explained. "You don't have any memories of the
previous scenarios. You only remember the last ones because the
nanoprobes deactivated the neural interfaces, and with them the
circumvention of your memory centers. Your memories shouldn't
be too bad. Or am I mistaken there?" Now it was him who looked
daggers at Kathryn.
Chakotay saw Kathryn set her jaw, saw the muscles ripple
under her skin. *What the heck,* he thought, and did something no
one would have expected him to do, at least not in public. He
reached for Kathryn's hands; she'd entwined her fingers with each
other with such a strength that her knuckles had gone white. He
was able to cover her hands with his right hand, and he gave them
a gentle squeeze. Chakotay knew of course exactly what the
Doctor was referring to, as were all the others. None of them had
forgotten about the relationship the Captain and the Commander
had shared on the Holodeck.
"He's right, Kathryn," he merely said. "All of them are
right. We've gained more than we've lost, despite the dead. Why
won't you realize that?"
The last time Kathryn had felt that left alone had been
when she'd decided to be allies with the Borg against Species 8472;
when even Tuvok had turned his back on her to get the mysterious
Sikarian transporter.
When her people had made her meet Captain Miller. That
had been the last time they'd left her all alone. She looked at each
then, letting her gaze wander from face to face, her eyes full of venom. How dare they do that to her? How dare they? Her
personal life was none of their business. But they all met her gaze
without flinching. Lastly, her gaze met Chakotay's, who was as
determined as the others. He didn't even remove his damn hand
from hers. She felt their warmth almost scorch her hands that
suddenly were ice-cold.
*He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks, and bowed his
head and understood.*
She wouldn't let any of them see the tears on her cheeks.
And no way Chakotay understood her right now.
*... doing whatever he could to make her burden lighter.*
No way Chakotay made her burden lighter right now. How dare he
treat her like this in front of the whole crew?
She closed her eyes, feeling the tears escape from beneath
her lashes. "Leave me, all, go, leave me alone," she said almost
tunelessly.
To be continued ...
By Katie
Chapter 15 Game Over
When Kathryn Janeway woke from her artificially induced coma, she didn't at first know where she was, or who, for that
matter. There was another personality present in her mind, the
personality of a woman who was very much like her, and yet
wasn't. Kathryn knew Catherine, after all she'd given her body to
her during the games on the Holodeck. It was as though she'd been
an observer, a voyeur even, in her own body, watching the life of a
Maquis leader. It was a disturbing experience, worse even than
watching herself cradled in Chakotay's arms, dying on an alien
planet because an alien entity was hungry for her soul.
She'd slept with Chakotay. Of course it wasn't Chakotay
she'd slept with, and it hadn't been her who'd slept with him, either.
It had been their alter egos that had made love to each other using
the bodies of Kathryn and Chakotay. But there had been more to it,
and once Kathryn realized this it sent icy shivers up and down her
spine. A great deal of her own personality had been—and still
was—part of Catherine Leroux, and it had been this part that had
finally given into letting Chakotay into her life. She also knew that
as much of Kathryn Janeway had been part of Catherine Leroux as
had Chakotay been part of Frank Miller.
But they hadn't only slept together. There had been more to
it. They had made love, because they had fallen in love with each
other. Falling in love with Chakotay was a luxury Kathryn hadn't
allowed herself, despite her better knowledge that, eventually, she
wouldn't be able to withhold her strong feelings for her First
Officer any longer. She had been well aware that she'd need a
catalyst that would finally set her free. The Hirogen with their sick
games and brain-washing neural interfaces had been that catalyst.
Kathryn wasn't sure if she was happy about that. Sure, with
Chakotay—or Frank or whatever—she'd felt like a woman again,
and she'd become another person, an even stronger person than
she'd been before. She'd undergone the same change as Catherine
had. It hadn't done any harm to her, on the contrary.
But this had happened while under the influence of a mind-
controlling device, there was no proof that it would work in real
life as well. And back to real life they were by now, at least did
Kathryn hope so. As soon as they were Starfleet officers again, and
submitted not to a neural interface but strict Starfleet protocol,
there would be no place for a life like this. They hadn't fallen in
love upon their own will, they had been manipulated.
And why could something like that have happened?
Because she'd lost control. But her affair with Chakotay wasn't the
point. The point was that by losing control she'd put the lives of her
crew at risk, and with it the life of Voyager. Kathryn didn't want to
think more about it, or otherwise she would have gotten sick. How
could she have let that happen? She felt so humiliated at the
thought of being used as someone's toy. After all she was used to
making her own decisions and mistakes, to living her own life. She
wasn't owned by anyone but herself.
But was she? Kathryn painfully realized that she in fact
was owned by her strong determination to get this crew home. In a
way, the crew were having a pretty powerful instrument at their
hands with her weakest point. But they'd never use it against her,
she knew that. She trusted her crew completely, as they trusted her.
Just then the doors to Sickbay hissed open and let
somebody enter. Kathryn turned her head into the direction of the
doors to see who'd come. It was Naomi Wildman, standing there
wide-eyed, clutching a padd. Kathryn looked at her in alarm and
sat up in one swift motion. The muscles in her abdomen were still
sore and ached dully when she sat up, but the woman ignored it.
What was important to her now was to find out if the little girl was
all right.
"Naomi!" she softly called, angry that her voice broke. She
hadn't drunken anything in a long time.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Captain," the girl answered, taking a step
backward, yet uncertain what she should do. She certainly hadn't
expected the captain to be awake.
"Don't be," Kathryn said after she'd cleared her voice. She
smiled at her. "Come on over here and stay with me for a while. I
don't want to be alone." *I don't want to think,* she added silently.
Any distraction was welcome to her now. Not that Naomi was such
unbidden a visitor or company to have, on the contrary. Kathryn
had less time at her disposal to talk to the girl every now and then
than she cared to admit.
"Okay," Naomi said. Hesitantly she walked to the vacant
biobed next to the Captain's. She carefully put her padd on and
then climbed on it. She could look at the Captain without having to
crane her neck, and she was in what Naomi called *safe distance*.
The memory of the Captain hugging her was still very real in her
mind. Naomi wasn't afraid of the Captain. It was just that her
mother had impressed on her not to bother the Captain. She was a
very busy woman who wasn't to burden any more than she already
was. The girl still didn't know what had caused the Captain to hug
her, but there must have been a reason for it. You don't hug people
out of the blue. And since Naomi still didn't know she was very
insecure as how to act around the Captain.
"Tell me," Kathryn began, now sitting with her legs
dangling over the edge of the bed. "What makes you come here?
You aren't ill, are you?"
"No. I'm just in everybody's way now that they are so busy.
I come here because it's the only place where I can practice reading
without disturbing anyone," Naomi explained.
Kathryn's heart warmed. The child really was a blessing to
the ship. Not that she'd ever not wanted her to be around. The Delta
Quadrant simply wasn't the right playground for children; it even
wasn't for a certain Starfleet vessel at times. But theirs wasn't a
game. Life wasn't a game. "So it was you who's been there with me
all the time," she deduced. "I remember hearing voices and people
around me, and I remember someone reading to me, but I can't
recall what it was, I'm afraid."
Kathryn hadn't just said this. It was true, she had heard
voices and people around her. But somehow she hadn't been able to
lift the heavy blanket off her consciousness. And she really
remembered someone reading to her. It must have been reading,
for the tone and intonation weren't that of people speaking freely.
Naomi's face lit up. The ice between her and the Captain
was broken. She couldn't possibly being bothering the Captain if it
was her who wanted to talk with her, now, could she? "Yes! I'm
reading *The Wind in the Willows*. It's my favorite book."
"Oh, and you're making a very good job of it," Kathryn
praised her, noticing the girl's face flush crimson with pride. "Now,
where did you stop the last time?"
"You want me to read for you?"
Kathryn shrugged. "Yes, of course. I haven't read the book
in a long time." There were a million questions whirling around in
her mind that she wanted answered, but she didn't want to disturb
Naomi. She—no, Catherine—remembered quite vividly what had
happened to Naomi's character on the Holodeck. She needed to be
careful around her, and so reading was the safest thing she could
do. Besides, she *really* hadn't read the book in a very long time.
She'd loved it very much when she'd been little.
"Okay." She took the padd, opened it and went to the
bookmark she'd made. Naomi cleared her throat, and began:
"Chapter 7: The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. The Willow-Wren
was twittering his thin little song, hidden himself in the dark
selvedge of the river bank. Though it was past ten o'clock at night,
the sky still clung to and retained some lingering skirts of light
from the departed day; and the sullen heats of the torrid afternoon
broke up and ..."
B'Elanna covered the small sleeping form carefully with a
quilt, making sure that her son could breathe properly. He was
looking so perfect, too perfect as though she could believe that she
would never see him grow up. He had inherited the cerulean blues
of his father, but that was about everything. The color of his sparse
hair was B'Elanna's own dark brown, and if she let her finger glide
across his forehead, she could feel the Klingon ridges ever so
faintly. But they would develop only a little more, of that the
Doctor had assured her. Taken, of course, that the child would live
long enough.
"How's he doing, Doc?" she heard Tom ask the Doctor.
"Considering the circumstances he's doing unexpectedly
good," the Hologram replied.
"And?" Tom pressed.
"That increases his life expectancy by a couple of days, but
not more, I'm afraid," the Doctor answered patiently. He didn't
know how many times he'd already answered this question. But
that was only natural. What parents wanted to see their child die,
after all? He still couldn't believe how the Hirogen had been able to
do something like this—from an ethical point of view.
Tom sighed. "Yes. I know we should be grateful, which we
truly are, but ..." Tom didn't finish his sentence.
The Doctor padded the pilot reassuringly on the shoulder.
"I can't imagine any better parents for Samuel than you. Well, I'll
visit again tonight."
"Thank you, Doctor." "...but it hurts so much," B'Elanna finished the sentence for
her boyfriend after the Doctor had dematerialized. Ever since she'd
learned about Samuel her Human side had taken over. Tom
summed it up as her feminine side. She was all a mother now. She
was still an engineer, of course, but when first damage reports had
turned out quite positive, she'd turned over Engineering to Joe
Carey. The Hirogen's reparations included abundant supplies for
replacing the broken Holodecks, particularly the holes in the walls.
What was to happen with the enhanced Holodeck generators was
yet to be decided upon.
But nothing of that mattered to B'Elanna as much as her
son. Chakotay had given her as much time off as she needed, as he
had to Tom. They were important officers, but considering their
present situation and needs, nothing seemed important enough to
Chakotay to deny them the time they needed.
Samuel was born the same night his parents had learned
about him. The Doctor had deemed it wise to perform a c-section.
He hadn't been sure whether the boy would have survived a natural
birth, and he hadn't wanted to take the risk of beaming him out of
his mother's womb either. As it turned out, Samuel was the most
beautiful baby-boy ever born on Voyager—which was even true.
Nobody could quite believe that he'd never grow up. The Doctor
could have replaced his underdeveloped organs, but that would
have been needless. The boy's brain was underdeveloped as well,
and this couldn't be replaced. Any operations would only have
complicated his life and made it almost unbearable. So together
with Tom and B'Elanna the Doctor had decided to let him enjoy his
life as it was.
This was what hurt so much. But at least Samuel could
learn what it meant to being loved. Giving him all their love was
the one thing that lay completely in his parents' hands, and they
weren't going to not enjoy any second of it.
B'Elanna had settled down on the couch, her legs drawn up
to her chest, covered with her favorite quilt. One of her arms was
resting on the edge of the crib her son was sleeping in. It once had
been Naomi Wildman's crib. No one on Voyager would have
thought that they'd need the most pleasant piece of furniture
parents had to get so soon again. Until then, it had been packed
away somewhere in Cargobay 2.
Tom got themselves something to drink from the replicator
and then joined his girlfriend on the couch. He handed her one of
the mugs, then he sat in silence to watch over his son's slumber.
Samuel was breathing regularly, his lungs weren't that
underdeveloped. *You mustn't think of that,* he scolded himself.
*Think about how beautiful he is, how perfect.*
"Tom?"
"Hm," he murmured absentmindedly.
"I was wondering if we will be able to love a child that
much as we love him," B'Elanna said.
"I don't know. I think so," Tom shrugged.
B'Elanna sighed. "I'm not sure. I mean ... I don't know if I
could go through losing another child again."
He was silent. Then he mused: "But another child would be
created, nurtured and given birth to out of love, you know. Besides,
we owe him that his siblings remember him as the bravest and
strongest boy who ever lived on Voyager. The Doctor said he'd live
longer, after all, if only for one day."
B'Elanna smiled through the hated veil of tears that once
again blurred her vision. "If you say so. You know what?" she
asked, smiling. She shifted her arm from the edge of the crib to
resting on Tom's chest. "You know about the weak spots of
Klingons so damn well, and you're the cutest father I've ever seen."
"B'Ela ..." "Shh," the half-Klingon woman quieted her lover by
covering his lips with her fingers. "If you're ready to go through it
again, so am I. I don't trust anyone more than the man I love."
Tom swallowed hard. It still was a miracle for him what he
had done that he deserved being happy, or being in love with
B'Elanna. But whatever he'd done, he swore to himself that he'd
keep doing it. And he had promised to the Captain that he'd never
stop loving B'Elanna, come what might—that he'd promised that
under the influence of a mind-controlling device didn't make any
difference. He'd loved her as Bobby Davies, and he still loved her
as Tom Paris. Love would always be love, and there was no greater
law for man—or so Chaucer had claimed, if he remembered his
literature classes correctly.
"... Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as
the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught
him up, and possessed him utterly. He saw the tears on his
comrade's cheeks, and bowed his head and understood. For a space
..." Naomi read in her clear child's voice. Kathryn had until then
listened intently to the story, had seen the Mole and the Rat row
their little boat down the River in search for Portly. She loved this
chapter of *The Wind in the Willows*, although literary criticism
wasn't sure if children understood the mystical experience the
animals made in it. *He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks,
and bowed his head and understood.*
The sentence touched something deep within her, and she sensed rather than realized that the Mole should be wearing a tattoo
on his left temple. This simple sentence, written centuries ago,
summed up all what there was between her and her First Officer.
Chakotay always bowed his head and understood, but he never
dared cross the barrier and make her stop crying. But it was her
own fault. She wouldn't let him. Again she wondered why it was so
hard for her to let him into her life. One of her safety nets was
already gone, and the other one was starting to get holes as well.
What if she kept pushing him away, would he be there to catch her
when her other net broke as well?
Kathryn wasn't sure. What kind of thoughts were these, by
the way? A Captain didn't need a safety net, it was too dangerous.
So better erect a wall around oneself, stone was more durable than
thread, and there were no holes through which bits of her self could
escape and indulge in thoughts like these.
Naomi had of course not noticed her listener's thoughts
steal away on the floating music of the story, so immersed was she
in her reading. So she didn't even notice the holographic Doctor
materialize next to her. He sat his old-fashioned black doctor's bag
on the edge of the biobed she was occupying. When she stopped to
clear her throat that had gone dry from reading out loud for so
long, she noticed him. And blushed a deep crimson.
The Doctor put a calming hand on her thin shoulder.
Kathryn smiled and was about to open her mouth to say something,
but the Doctor forestalled her. "Thank you, Miss Wildman. You
did a very good job," he praised Naomi. The girl only blushed
deeper, beaming at the same time with pride. She was so glad that
she could be of help to all those awfully busy grownups, but what
was even more, she now had the certainty that she hadn't
misbehaved on the Holodeck.
"Doctor?" Kathryn asked curiously. She wanted some
answers, now.
"I've asked Naomi to look after you while I was on a
house-call," he explained. "She was with you most of the time, you
were babysitting each other so to say."
Kathryn nodded, uncertain of what the Doctor was trying
to tell her—or rather avoiding to tell her. "What does that mean?"
she demanded to know, her voice dangerously calm.
"Well, that means that we have eventually succeeded in
getting rid of the Hirogen," the Doctor said casually, fiddling open
his bag. He produced his tricorder and began to scan Kathryn with
it. Nothing was more unnerving to Kathryn than the Doctor's
scanning her with the tricorder when she wanted answers.
Especially in a situation like this, when her crew were held
prisoner on their own ship, and treated like toys. She drew in a
sharp breath, she didn't want to explode in front of the girl.
"Commander Chakotay has scheduled a staff meeting for
this afternoon, he'll explain everything to you then," the hologram
informed her. "But until then, you stay here with me. I've yet got to
finish your treatment and declare you fit for duty."
Kathryn looked daggers at the hologram. There were only two people aboard this ship whose behavior of that kind she
tolerated—but only because she had no other choice—, the
Doctor's and Seven's. With them, resistance was often futile, and
Kathryn had had time enough to realize when this was the case. It
was the best thing she could do with a hologram that had an
attitude and a very pronounced ego, and with a spoiled six-year-old
ex-Borg in the body of a playmate-of-the month.
Kathryn decided to change tactics. If he didn't want to tell
her about how they'd finally broken free from the control of the
Hirogen, she at least wanted to know what was going on now.
"So," she began in a casual tone, "you made a house-call?"
"Yes," the Doctor replied cryptically. He shut his tricorder.
"Please lie down, Captain. Naomi, would you please leave us alone
for a moment?" The girl nodded, hopped off the bed, grabbed her
padd and withdrew into the Doctor's office.
The Doctor removed the compress from Kathryn's thigh, and examined the healed wound. There wasn't even a hint of a scar left on her pale skin. While he was running another scan, he
explained: "Captain, I visited Lieutenants Torres and Paris, and ..."
The Doctor interrupted himself. How should he tell the Captain
about her new godson, and that he was dying?
"And? Doctor, please!" Kathryn said impatiently. She lay
still on the bed, letting the Doctor treat hear, but she ached to know
what he had to tell her. He obviously was having difficulties telling
her, and she wondered what it could be. She just hoped that neither
B'Elanna nor Tom were in danger. If the Doctor had to visit them
... she didn't dare go on thinking. She didn't want to lose either of
them.
"I looked after their son. He is critically ill. He won't
survive the month, I'm afraid."
Kathryn didn't know what to say or think. "They have a
son?" she eventually managed.
The Doctor sighed, put down his instruments and told her
the whole story.
Kathryn insisted that Tom and B'Elanna stay with Samuel, she almost had to order them to stay with him instead of attending
the staff meeting. Just for once, she let them disobey her orders.
Frankly, she wanted them to attend the meeting, too, she wanted to
have her closest crew around her when she learned about what had
happened since the explosion on the Holodeck. But she didn't have
the heart to separate them from Samuel, either. The two of them
convinced her that this was okay; they wanted to be there when the
story of their struggle was told. And there were enough crew who
literally fought over babysitting Samuel. Since the little boy was
doing so well, better than expected, his parents insisted on
attending the meeting.
"It's good to have you back, Captain," Harry offered, after
he'd entered the conference room. The relief on his face was barely
to be missed, and a grateful smile tugged at Kathryn's lips. She also
noticed that it was all the young Asian could do to hug her.
"Thank you, Harry," she smiled at him. From the corner of
her eyes she saw Chakotay's gaze resting on her. Somehow she felt guilty.
Who was she to deny him his happiness? She exchanged
quick glances with him, and she clearly saw the question in his
eyes, the question that would steal into her conscious whenever she
didn't keep her mind occupied. Otherwise, Chakotay kept his face
perfectly straight, as it became a First Officer. The conference
room wasn't the proper place to discuss such a personal thing.
"Well, let's get started," Kathryn said, gesturing for them to
sit and report as they usually would.
But this time, they couldn't follow protocol. Their tasks
had been different from their usual tasks this time, and so they had
to tell rather than report to their Captain what had happened. After
the Hirogen had been sent to sleep with the help of the Borg
nanoprobes, they had been held hostage in the cargobay, so that the
Hirogen ships escorting Voyager couldn't do anything to free their
people. Chakotay and Tuvok had continued their negotiations with
the Hirogen medic Ysakc S'huna; later the Alpha Hirogen, Kaar
Eleng, had joined them. He had Ysakc inform Chakotay and Tuvok
that he wasn't quite satisfied with the way his medic stood in for
him, and that he'd appreciate it very much if he could join them.
"And how did it go from then?" Kathryn wanted to know
when Tuvok paused in his report.
"Better, actually," Chakotay said. "Kaar cared to explain
himself to us. He is one of the very few Hirogen who has realized
that his people can't go on like this, roving through the sector
looking for prey. Maybe we should listen to his speech, we both
found it quite impressive. Maybe it'll help explain our decision."
The Dorvanian exchanged glances with the Vulcan, and much to
the others' surprise, there was something like silent communication
between them, an understanding that hadn't been there before;
before the two men had been enemies, even more so when
Chakotay found that there had been yet another traitor among his
cell—but this traitor wasn't the last to be discovered. Tuvok
nodded in agreement, stood and activated the screen of the
conference room.
The armadillo face of the Alpha Hirogen appeared on the
screen. A nasty scar went from the equivalent of his left eyebrow
down across his cheek in a perfectly vertical line. The Hirogen was
clad in medieval clothes rather than the shiny obsidian-colored
armour.
"We've lost our way. We've allowed our predatory instincts
to dominate us. We've dispersed ourselves throughout the quadrant,
sending ships in all directions. We've become a solitary race,
isolated. We've lost our culture in the pursuit of what we must do.
But I've realized that we can't go on like this. We'll die if we don't
allow ourselves to develop. One day, there won't be any prey left
for us to hunt, or we'll meet more ships with such a brave and
determined crew like yours. I've realized that we must find a cure
for our addiction, out of our own will and power. Only then we can
come together again and reunite our people. We will be able to live
on our homeworld as the peaceful people we've once been—the
Hirogen, Those-Who-Hunt-for-Their-Needs. Thanks to you my
crew have realized this—except for Sarpa Tarench—and they are
now ready to pursue a new way."
The recording ended here, and for a while, everyone was
silent. "That sounds rather impressive, Commander," Kathryn
eventually said. "But in what way did it influence the negotiation?"
"They couldn't compensate for the psychical damage
they've done, but they left us enough supplies to repair the damage,
and they left the additional power sources they'd had Engineering
to install so the function of the Holodecks could be enhanced.
They've provided us with a mark on the hull so we don't be
bothered by other Hirogen. And they've assured us of their eternal
gratefulness," Chakotay summarized.
"I hate people who are condescending when they
apologize," Kathryn commented. "Their eternal gratefulness
doesn't help little Samuel one bit, or all the others, for that matter,"
she added bitterly.
Silence spread in the room once more. "You sound pretty
disappointed, Captain," Tom eventually said.
Kathryn looked at her pilot askance. How could he say this
when he and B'Elanna were the two who were suffering most from
the cruelty of the Hirogen? "I don't feel like dancing an Irish jig
right now," she explained.
"I think the Hirogen have in fact given more to us than
they've taken," Tom said, bending over the table to be closer to the
Captain. *Why wouldn't she see the good in it?* he asked himself.
"Look, you were in a coma, so you haven't noticed yet, but the
crew has grown closer in the past three and a half weeks. We are
family now, more than we've been before. God knows we're
hurting, but what we've gained is more than what we've lost."
Kathryn shook her head. "No!" she almost exclaimed.
"What about the casualties? Three people dead, and your son
dying! We were raped, both mentally and physically, and ..."
"Yes." Seven chimed in. She had been silent so far. "That
is correct. But I have to agree when Lieutenant Paris says that our
... community has grown stronger."
Kathryn looked at the blonde woman in disbelief. She was
used to being second-guessed by her, but she'd never had even
thought this possible. If the Doctor ... *Yes, you could be sure he'd
have his own two cents to add,* she thought bitterly when the
Doctor opened his mouth to speak.
"As far as I've been told, the crew from the Holodecks only
remember the events in Sainte Claire and Acre, which hardly were
traumatizing. The Klingon simulation had been turned off by Kaar
himself, since it wasn't his interest any longer that his people hunt
ours down," he explained. "You don't have any memories of the
previous scenarios. You only remember the last ones because the
nanoprobes deactivated the neural interfaces, and with them the
circumvention of your memory centers. Your memories shouldn't
be too bad. Or am I mistaken there?" Now it was him who looked
daggers at Kathryn.
Chakotay saw Kathryn set her jaw, saw the muscles ripple
under her skin. *What the heck,* he thought, and did something no
one would have expected him to do, at least not in public. He
reached for Kathryn's hands; she'd entwined her fingers with each
other with such a strength that her knuckles had gone white. He
was able to cover her hands with his right hand, and he gave them
a gentle squeeze. Chakotay knew of course exactly what the
Doctor was referring to, as were all the others. None of them had
forgotten about the relationship the Captain and the Commander
had shared on the Holodeck.
"He's right, Kathryn," he merely said. "All of them are
right. We've gained more than we've lost, despite the dead. Why
won't you realize that?"
The last time Kathryn had felt that left alone had been
when she'd decided to be allies with the Borg against Species 8472;
when even Tuvok had turned his back on her to get the mysterious
Sikarian transporter.
When her people had made her meet Captain Miller. That
had been the last time they'd left her all alone. She looked at each
then, letting her gaze wander from face to face, her eyes full of venom. How dare they do that to her? How dare they? Her
personal life was none of their business. But they all met her gaze
without flinching. Lastly, her gaze met Chakotay's, who was as
determined as the others. He didn't even remove his damn hand
from hers. She felt their warmth almost scorch her hands that
suddenly were ice-cold.
*He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks, and bowed his
head and understood.*
She wouldn't let any of them see the tears on her cheeks.
And no way Chakotay understood her right now.
*... doing whatever he could to make her burden lighter.*
No way Chakotay made her burden lighter right now. How dare he
treat her like this in front of the whole crew?
She closed her eyes, feeling the tears escape from beneath
her lashes. "Leave me, all, go, leave me alone," she said almost
tunelessly.
To be continued ...