Epilogue
2371—Promenade, Deep Space 9
Jacqueline downed the last of her Vulcan brandy as she shook off the remaining fragments of memory. She honestly had no idea what could have sent her wandering so far back. Maybe it was the ex-con they'd picked up for this mission. Watching the cocky young man 'rescue' their operations officer from Quark's attempted rip-off did remind her quite a bit of D'Artagnan, actually…in fact, if she didn't know better she'd swear the two were related somehow, just from the attitude. Of course, the only son D'Artagnan ever had was a pre-immortal foundling she'd discovered in the garrison stables—the same night, as fate would have it, that Giselle died giving him twin boys, neither of whom survived. In the end, it didn't matter that Charlie, as they'd taken to calling him, wasn't his own flesh and blood. D'Artagnan had loved the boy as his own…so much so that when Charlie 'died' fighting the Dutch and they were unable to intercept the messenger delivering the news, her onetime comrade took his own life rather than face the world without his child.
She sighed, pulling a small photo album. It had taken multiple tries and a very accommodating holoprogrammer, but she'd finally managed to get herself some pictures of her Musketeer family at the happiest point in their lives…before this immortality business had reared its ugly head. Not quite the same as the real thing, but at least technology could now give her something more than memories to hold on to. With a faint smile, she traced the outlines of their faces, looking almost exactly as she remembered. Duval, who died in his sleep about six months after naming her his successor. His passing left her with a garrison full of Musketeers who, despite her success, still saw her as green and were reluctant to show her the same respect they had given their late commander. Ramon had been a huge help in that department. He'd stayed by her side until he retired and she transferred to a post within the palace…or maybe it was the other way around. She could never remember that detail. Regardless, Ramon was probably the most faithful and loyal friend she'd ever had, and his involvement with the Watchers was never an issue. He did eventually come clean about that part, after years of avoiding the topic for fear of her reaction, and when he did she assured him how little it mattered to her.
Surreptitiously wiping away a tear, she let her finger hover over the Spaniard's youthful features. Out of the original quartet (plus Duval), he was the only one to live to a ripe old age and die in his bed, surrounded by his children. After his brief fling with Amanda, he'd settled down with a young woman named Emmanuelle. Rebecca had hired her to run the inn she'd purchased in Paris for the sake of continuing Jacqueline's training. And once the immortal thief was out of Ramon's system, it wasn't long before Emmanuelle caught his eye. They were married within a year of meeting and had three children together. The oldest boy followed his father into the Musketeers (and, she suspected, the Watchers), the youngest entered the priesthood, and his daughter married a young Spanish noble named Carlos Alvarado. Emmanuelle was the first to go, and as Ramon entered his seventies without her his mind started to deteriorate to the point where he could no longer tell past from present—what doctors in the twentieth century would have called Alzheimer's, most likely. She remembered him calling for Amanda in his final days and, to her surprise, the raven-haired thief actually showed up when she asked her to. He passed away peacefully in his sleep a few days after Amanda arrived, leaving her alone in France. Rebecca and Amanda were still in the area, but it wasn't quite the same. Charlie had long since moved on, and Siroc….
She shifted her focus to the blonde immortal, who'd left Paris shortly after Queen Anne died. And when he left, the ancient inventor essentially cut off all contact. Why, she didn't know, but the next thing she heard was a rumor going around during the French Revolution that he'd fallen victim to Lady Guillotine. There was never any proof, of course, but when he failed to show up to Rebecca's funeral in the early 1990s, Jacqueline had been certain he was gone, given how close she knew the two had been.
Jacqueline herself had left France before the Revolution, though not by choice. Despite her years of dedicated service to the Bourbon family, Louis XVI had somehow gotten it into his head that 'Jacques' was too close to his wife and sent her away with the men he was providing to help the Americans with their war against England. After the war, she'd wound up staying in the newly-christened United States for a time, playing second 'husband'/protector to the widow and children of an American soldier she'd befriended, as per his dying wish. Once the American's family no longer needed her, she found herself drawn into the fight against Napoleon, working with British Intelligence alongside a young officer named Robert Helm. After that, she spent the next few centuries bouncing around Europe, taking various law-enforcement positions during peacetime and joining the army when war broke out. Though she generally refused to play the Game, she still took on students from time to time. Unfortunately, none ever lasted very long—mostly thanks to a nutjob named Lucien she'd made the mistake of attempting to mentor during the war with Napoleon. He'd stopped listening after the 'live forever' part of the talk and, for whatever reason, started stalking her and shooting any new immortals she came across, taking their heads before they even really knew what was going on. The only one she'd been able to save from him was a young man named Dominic who'd fallen during the D-Day invasion. And when she finally did set aside her usual 'no-killing' rule to take Lucien out, the police had gotten involved.
Shaking her head, she turned in the album to a photo that was actually taken from real life. It was of her with a young, dark-skinned man sitting in the quad of a college campus. The man's name was Tom Mayweather, an American who'd elected to go to college in Britain. She'd decided to go to school herself in the late 1990s, and literally ran into him on the first day of classes. Cliched as it might sound, it was love at first sight. They'd dated for a couple of months before she came clean and told him the truth—the whole truth. Amazingly, Tom had taken the whole thing in stride. The facts that she'd never grow old and couldn't give him children never mattered to him. And when the nasty business with Lucien happened and she'd wound up in HMP Larkhall, he stood by her. He finished his education on the outside while she did her best to do the same inside and, when a bomb set by one of the inmates resulted in her 'early release,' Tom gladly moved back to America with her and the young student she'd gained in the same incident. A few years later, a ten-year-old boy—also named Tom—that had been the previously unknown result of one of Tom's high-school relationships came into their custody after his mother died, giving Jacqueline her first real chance at motherhood. She and Tom finally married, and the three of them—her most recent protégé having moved on before young Tom came into their lives—moved to Bozeman, Montana and settled down. With the help of some slightly fudged academic records, she was able to finish the psychology degree she'd started working on in England and, after graduation, opened her own clinic. Tom used his engineering degree to get work with a local military contractor, helping design the next generation of military aircraft.
Smiling, she flipped to a family picture that was taken the day Tom Jr. graduated high school, top of his class with a full scholarship to Howard University in DC. Charlie and Shaz, her oldest and youngest students, had also been there to help celebrate the occasion, as were Amanda and a rather reluctant Tessa Alvarado. Ramon's immortal 'descendant' had been essentially joined to the ancient thief at the hip since the late 1990s for reasons she still wasn't quite able to comprehend. Though Jacqueline tried to be civil for Ramon's sake, she and Tessa had never gotten along: she thought the younger immortal rash and impetuous, not to mention a tad arrogant, while Tessa seemed to think her some sort of self-righteous killjoy. Perhaps the assessment wasn't completely off-base, but the ex-vigilante's attitude nonetheless had a tendency to make social functions rather awkward.
With a sigh, she closed the book and tucked it away once more. In a little more than a decade after that last photo was taken, the world would be torn apart by war…on a far grander scale than anything she'd seen previously. Tom was killed when a bomb struck the base where he worked, and Tom Jr. died fighting the ECON, leaving her to help his widow raise his twins, Jason and Judith. For once, Jacqueline herself had largely stayed out of the fighting, instead opening her clinic to aid refugees from the areas that got hit the worst when the nukes started falling. When it was over, Bozeman was one of the few still-habitable pockets remaining in the States, and even there the residents still had to deal with their share of radiation poisoning.
Of course, about a decade after the war finally ended, Bozeman became famous thanks to Zefram Cochrane and his warp engine. The man himself had never been anything to write home about, but his flight was legend and ushered in a new era for humanity, mortal and immortal alike. Just as the mortal world came to reject war on realizing that they weren't alone in the universe, the immortals that remained came together and decided to end the so-called Game once and for all—not with a grand battle, but with a permanent cease-fire. Sure, immortals still fought from time to time, for the same reasons humans still squabbled with each other, but since First Contact actual quickenings were few and far between. And with the truce called, Siroc finally came out of hiding. The rumors of an immortal falling victim to the guillotine had been about someone else, and Siroc had adopted the dead immortal's identity to keep off of the Watchers' radar. Without the Game, there was no more reason for him to hide. He was currently a very successful holoprogramer—the one who'd helped her get the Musketeer pictures, in fact—and, last she checked, was living quite happily with Captain Sulu's grandson, George. Charlie, still trying to find himself after all these centuries, was most recently managing a bar on Risa, while Shaz and Dominic were reportedly somewhere in Starfleet. MacLeod was serving as ambassador to Qo'nos, his friend Adam was most likely lounging on a Risian beach, and Amanda and Tessa had last been living on Setlik III; neither had been seen or heard from since the massacre in 2347, though there were rumors that Tessa had gotten caught up with the Maquis.
As for herself, without the Game hanging over her head—as little as she'd gotten involved when it was active—she was finally free to live something resembling a normal life. She'd even served as a physician's assistant to Dr. Phlox on the NX-01 (once the Vulcans finally released their stranglehold on human technological advancement) with Tom's descendent Travis at the helm. Immortals were still largely a secret from humanity, though the Vulcans had been made aware of their existence due their own longevity. As had Starfleet Medical, once immortals began serving on starships. Humans themselves were starting to live longer, so the truth might have to come out eventually, but for now the pool of those in the know would stay limited.
Shaking off the wandering thoughts once more, Jacqueline glanced towards the bar and saw their guest heading towards the docking bay with the operations officer. Now was as good a time as any to get it over with, she decided. After one last shot of something strong to calm her nerves, she grabbed her pack and headed to the docking bay herself. She requested permission to board from the officer waiting by the hatch and, once it was granted, stepped through the doors and onto the deck of the USS Voyager—said to be the most technologically advanced ship in the fleet. A quick inquiry of the computer got her to her quarters and she started unpacking. Not that she'd brought much, seeing as this was only supposed to be a temporary assignment. Just the basic necessities, the Amazon blade she never went anywhere without even after the Game was ended, and a few other swords to practice with on the holodeck if she got the chance. She may not have needed to duel other immortals any more, but blades and projectile weapons were more effective against certain hostile races—the Borg, for example—than modern energy weapons, so it was a good idea to keep those skills sharp.
"That's quite a collection you have there, Lieutenant." Glancing behind her, Jacqueline immediately snapped to attention as an imposing red-haired woman entered her quarters, the pips on her uniform identifying her as the captain. "At ease," the captain smiled, gesturing for her to stand down. She relaxed a little, but her sense of protocol kept her from dropping formality completely.
"I was just unpacking a few things, Captain. I was going to report in as soon as I was settled."
"It's fine, Lieutenant. I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour. Captain Kathryn Janeway," she added, holding out a hand. Jacqueline shook it, suppressing the urge to salute instead.
"Lieutenant Jacqueline Rogers," she replied, just before breaking contact. "Lieutenant Tuvok speaks very highly of you, Captain."
"And of you as well, Miss Rogers. He was quite adamant about my bringing you on board. Which, in itself, is quite the accomplishment. He does not give such praise very easily."
"I know," Jacqueline chuckled. "He was one of the toughest instructors I ever had at the academy." Of course, the captain did not need to know that, nearly a century earlier, she'd actually been one of Tuvok's instructors when he attended the academy, making for quite the interesting role reversal when she'd returned as a student decades later under a different name. Her expression grew serious. "He sent me an encrypted message about a month ago, urging me to accept whatever position Starfleet might offer me next, but he was rather sketchy on the details, which is pretty unusual for him. I got the basic specs on this mission from Starfleet Command when I was offered the post, but I still don't quite understand why I'm stepping into shoes that should belong to Lieutenant Tuvok."
The captain nodded, gesturing for Jacqueline to have a seat. She sat down on the bed, pushing the swords aside, while her commanding officer pulled up a chair. "What I'm about to tell you, Miss Rogers, only a handful of people on this ship are aware of. It's not classified, per se, but it's not something I want gossiped about either."
"Of course, Captain."
"The fact of the matter is, Lieutenant Tuvok is currently undercover on the Val Jean."
Jacqueline frowned. "Isn't that the ship we're looking for?"
"Exactly. He's been feeding Starfleet information from inside the Maquis for some time, but hasn't checked in with me for over a week now. Needless to say, I'm concerned. The ship was last seen in the Badlands, which is where we're heading once everyone's on board."
"You think something might have happened to him?"
"I don't know," Captain Janeway sighed. "Which is why I need you. Tuvok assures me you're one of the best tacticians he's ever taught, and the Maquis know every dirty trick in the book. I want to be prepared for whatever we might find."
"That won't be a problem, Captain. I know quite a few tricks myself."
"Good," the captain nodded, standing up. "Report to the armory as soon as you're finished settling in. If the Maquis have discovered that Tuvok is a spy, we'll need a sound plan for getting him off the Val Jean in one piece."
Jacqueline stood up. "Of course." Smiling, Captain Janeway turned to leave. "Captain?"
She turned. "Is there something else, Lieutenant?"
"It's just…once Lieutenant Tuvok is back on board, I'd like to be dropped off on Risa—or at least the nearest space station to it."
"May I ask why?" the captain shot back, crossing her arms.
"To be honest, Captain, I only agreed to this out of respect for my friendship with Tuvok. Right now, being on a starship is the last thing I want." Shaking her head, Jacqueline pulled a bottle of Vulcan brandy from her pack and poured herself a drink. She looked to Captain Janeway, who waved her off.
"I'll pass, thanks."
With a shrug, Jacqueline downed the drink and went over to the window, setting the empty glass on the nearby table as she stared out at the stars. "You've heard of the Battle of Wolf 359, I assume. Well, I was on the Saratoga when the Borg ripped it to shreds…just barely managed to get Commander Sisko out of there before it blew."
"I thought the officer who rescued him was Bolian"
"I didn't want the publicity," she shrugged. "As soon as I got back to Earth, I resigned my commission and headed for the nearest vacation spot. Didn't stop the nightmares, though. I still hear those things every night, talking about how resistance is futile and threatening to add our distinctiveness to their own. I smell the smoke filling the corridors from where parts of the ship had caught fire…see friends and colleagues crushed beneath debris…hear the screams of the dying as I scramble to escape." She sighed, running a shaking hand through her hair. "As nice as Voyager is, Captain, being here only makes those memories even stronger. I'll help you get Tuvok back, but with all due respect, once he's able to reclaim his post I'd like to return to my early retirement."
"I understand," the captain nodded, laying a hand on Jacqueline's shoulder. "Thank you for doing this." She gave the shoulder a slight squeeze, then exited the quarters, leaving the immortal alone with her thoughts. Once the captain had gone, Jacqueline left the window and poured another drink, still trying to shake the memories of that battle. In the seven centuries or so since becoming immortal, she'd never seen anything like the Borg, and she prayed to whatever deity might still be listening that she'd never see them again. It was why she'd left Starfleet after dedicating the better part of the past 221 years to serving within its ranks.
After draining the glass once more, she took one last look at the bottle before stashing it away for later. Even before Wolf 359, she'd always kept some real liquor on hand when she served on a starship, since the replicators wouldn't produce alcohol and she hated the taste of synthehol. Not that she was a big drinker, most of the time. She mainly used it to take the edge off when particularly unpleasant memories resurfaced—though, given her immortal physiology, it took quite a bit more than the average human could tolerate.
Shaking her head, Jacqueline tucked her Amazon blade away within easy reach, then shoved the rest inside her closet. She checked with the computer for the location of the armory, straightened her uniform, and headed out into the corridor. Her quarters were on deck 9, and the main armory was located on deck 6. A short turbolift ride later, she was making her way past Holodeck One when something set off her senses. There was no one else in the corridor, and a quick glance at the holodeck controls revealed that it was currently active. Following a hunch, she opened the door and walked in to find a familiar spiky-haired teen wrapped around a green-skinned alien. She cleared her throat, causing the teen to jump about a foot. "Orion slave girls? Really?" she tsked, crossing her arms.
"Uh….Computer, end program!" The alien cantina disappeared, along with its denizens, leaving the two immortals alone in the bare holodeck. Jacqueline's eyebrow shot up, and the teen dropped her gaze. "That…uh…wasn't what it looked like."
"Really? Because it looked like you were indulging in some sordid fantasy when we have a mission to prepare for."
"What are you, my mother?" the teen snorted.
"I'm your teacher. And, for the moment, the chief security and tactical officer for this vessel. Now, what are you doing here? Last I heard, you were busy test-flying new shuttle designs."
"And last I heard, you'd cracked up and were hiding out in a cave or something."
Jacqueline glared. "I retired early after a traumatic experience with the Borg. I'd hardly call that 'cracking up.' And you still haven't answered my question."
"I'm the Gamma shift Conn Officer. Didn't you check the crew manifest?"
Mentally cursing her lack of preparation, Jacqueline pulled up the crew manifest on the holodeck computer and did a quick scan of the contents. Sure enough, listed as the Conn Officer on Gamma shift was an Ensign Sharon Wiley. "Back to using your real name, I see."
The teen shrugged. "Figure it's been long enough. Still prefer Shaz, though. Can I still call you Jackie?"
Jacqueline chuckled, remembering how Shaz had found her full name 'too stuffy' when they were in Larkhall. "Sure, but only in private. In front of the crew, you should call me Lieutenant Rogers."
"At least until we 'get to know each other,' right?"
"I don't plan on being here that long," Jacqueline frowned. "You should probably go report in to Lieutenant Commander Cavit if you haven't already. Nice seeing you again, Shaz, but I have work to do."
"Sure," the teen shrugged. "See you later, Jackie…I mean, Lieutenant." Shaz opened the holodeck doors and ran off down the corridor. A moment later, Jacqueline headed down the corridor in the opposite direction, mentally running through possible rescue plans as she made her way to the armory. 'The sooner we get Tuvok, the sooner I can be back on Risa.' After all, potential Maquis complications aside, this should be a fairly quick and routine mission…right?
The End?