Chapter One
Captain Janeway had never been one for turning down a challenge. She had also never been one for losing – together, those qualities had made her intensely competitive. Once she became a starship captain, she had to tune down her competitive nature – captains have to know when to walk away, after all – but it was forever a part of her.
Which is probably why she found herself in the holodeck playing velocity with Seven so often. She knew that, pretty soon, Seven would develop a greater knack for the tactics of the game and start to beat her regularly. Her enhanced reflexes and musculature would eventually overcome Janeway's own wits. That had become the challenge – to see how long she could overcome Seven's advantages with experience.
So far, so good, she thought, satisfied, as a mystified Seven of Nine stood on the other end of the holodeck floor. Janeway noted, with no small amount of satisfaction, that she had managed to get the former drone to work up a good sweat this time. She was drenched in perspiration, herself, and knew before Seven said anything what her unofficial astrometrics officer would say and began shaking her head.
"Captain, another match?" Janeway didn't respond, merely turned her back and strode towards the holodeck exit. The doors opened and she exited. "I understand, Captain. After such extensive physical exertion, you must be working at less than peak efficiency. We will play again another time."
Janeway turned her head. "It has nothing to do with my being tired, Seven, although I am. I just know when it's time to quit, is all."
Seven stopped, contemplating the captain's words. "Do you fear that if we play again, you will not be able to prevail?" she asked. Janeway again chose not to respond in words, but let a smirk cross her face as she tossed her towel over her shoulder and entered the turbolift. Seven followed. "Captain, I have another non-recreational issue that I wish to discuss." Janeway raised her head to look up at Seven.
"Yes, Seven? What is it?" she asked. Seven paused before instructing the turbolift to go to Astrometrics. "Seven, I was headed to my quarters to have a bath and find a clean uniform. Can it wait until tomorrow?" Janeway was becoming acutely aware of just how sweaty her shirt had become during their match.
"It is not imperative, although I do believe that you should become aware of any potential issues with our course as soon as possible, Captain."
Janeway sighed slightly. "All right, Seven. But hopefully it will be quick. What exactly is this 'issue'?" The lift doors opened and they walked forward, entering the astrometrics lab. Seven immediately moved to her station and punched in a command. The viewer sparked to life, and Janeway immediately recognized the data on the screen as the course Voyager was currently taking through the Delta Quadrant. Specifically, she noted the highlighted sections of the course as the changes Q had recommended during his last visit to Voyager that Janeway had chosen to follow.
"I was examining the course corrections that Q supplied, and I found some strange anomalies in his selection. Specifically, we have been following a course the last three weeks which was not the most direct route to the Alpha Quadrant." Janeway glanced upwards, and a second line appeared, shifting Voyager's path slightly. "This course would have hastened Voyager's journey by approximately four days."
Janeway shrugged. "Well Seven, being omnipotent, Q knows considerably more about this region of space than either you or I do. Perhaps there were threats in those areas that we don't know about. Or maybe he just didn't want to give us the easiest route home – he does love to play his little games. I doubt that he has put us on a course that he knew would put us in greater danger than we would have found on our own. I suspect his son wouldn't be happy if he got Icheb or his 'Aunt Kathy' killed."
Seven responded with the barest hint of a nod, before turning back to her console. "I was examining Q's future course corrections, and I found something curious. There is a point along our current path, approximately one week ahead of us, where Voyager would make a considerable course adjustment. Looking at computer projections, Q caused us to take twenty percent longer to traverse this region of space. I suspect that Q wants Voyager to pass through these coordinates." She pointed at a location on the screen where there was a rather sharp course deviation.
Janeway looked again at the course, then back at Seven. "I don't know what to tell you, Seven. Q has a reason for everything. He probably has a reason for this too." Her shirt was beginning to dry, and she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "If that is all, Seven, I really need to go find my way into a change of clothes and a bathtub. Hopefully Q won't drop by this time." She turned and walked out. Behind her, Seven raised an eyebrow, then turned back to the console.
Kathryn Janeway was feeling better than she had in weeks. Following her bath – which Q thankfully declined to disturb – and her clean uniform, she had found herself with her feet up, doing something which she hadn't had time for in months: pleasure reading. There were no reports to read, and only one to write – Voyager was a week away from the next communiqué with Starfleet Command via the Midas Array, and she needed to write up the monthly status report. Captains in the Alpha Quadrant don't need to write monthly status reports. I went and got myself lost 70,000 light years from Starfleet Command, and these days I need to check in with headquarters more often than my counterparts back home. A cross between a grimace and a smile crossed her face. She'd gotten used to making her own decisions without having to worry about the opinion of some Admiral at headquarters. Just me and my crew, my ship, and the great frontier. For all that we've lost, we've gained quite a bit, haven't we. I'm certainly not the same woman I was seven years ago.
She turned back to her book. James Joyce – he wasn't someone she'd usually pick for her free reading time, but Neelix had found his way into the literature database before he departed and she's provided him with a plethora of material from Earth to read in his new home. Joyce had popped out while she was selecting the files to give him. She missed Neelix dearly, although she was happy to no longer have to think up reasons to pass on his "better than coffee" supplements anymore.
Her door chimed. She sat up. "Enter." Her first officer entered, adjusting his eyes to the slightly dimmed lights as he scanned the room for her. She relaxed back into her couch, putting her feet back up. "Over here, Commander," she called, and smiled as he grinned when his eyes found her, curled up on a couch in her uniform, clutching a padd.
"I see someone is enjoying her downtime. At least, assuming that's a book, and not a status report," he said, sitting down on the far end of the couch.
She shook off her boots, curling her feet up under her legs. "I'm grateful you forced me to take some time off, Chakotay. I needed it." She hoisted the padd up in her hand and flung it towards Chakotay. He caught it easily. "Have you ever read any James Joyce?" she asked.
He shook his head, grin abating but his good mood remained as he glanced over the book. "I'm afraid not. I didn't read a whole lot of pre-Federation European literature before I joined Starfleet, and read only a very little after I did. In fact, I think your books constitute most of the European fiction I've read."
She nodded towards the book in his hands. "That's one of his best works, but I've read it before. Take it, bring it back when you're finished." She stood and stretched out, meandering over towards the replicator. "Do you have dinner plans, Chakotay?"
He shook his head. "Not unless you're asking. Has your replicator been behaving today?" He grinned as a rueful smile came over her face, and she shook her head.
"I'm happy to say that it has given me no problems in quite a while. I promised to never call it a toaster again, and it has seemingly agreed that it will no longer overcook my dinners." She ordered the replicator to produce a meal for two, which it did without complaint. "See, Chakotay? Treat your replicator as you would wish to be treated, and it will refrain from ruining your food."
They ate together, as they often did – sharing anecdotes about their lives before Voyager, their childhoods and their academy days, their service records, their finest moments and their greatest embarrassments. Chakotay had told her once that she brought him peace and she knew that it was still true, even after all they had been through. She could see the tension seep out of his body, as it did her own – the weight of command that shackled them both released for this short time they spent together during their off hours. For years, this time had served to bring her relief from the stress that commanding Voyager laid upon her.
Eventually, as it always did, their conversation turned to the task they shared – protecting and caring for the people who served Voyager and her commanding officers. "You know, Chakotay, today for the first time I found myself actually irritated that we have regular communication with Starfleet. Irritated!" She shook her head, and he laughed.
"Let me guess – you remembered you had to write up a status report to tell Admiral Hayes, or Admiral Paris, or Admiral Nechayev, about whatever we've been through in the last month. Am I right?" He grinned and took a sip of his cider as her face contorted into the beginnings of a snarl. It quickly faded.
"For so many years, I regretted not having support from command. I wished that we could communicate, so that the Admiralty could tell me what I should do in a situation where I knew in the Alpha Quadrant I would be expected to let them help me decide the proper course of action. And, of course, now, with them so far away and communications only available on a semi-regular basis, that's still essentially true. But I think back, about what I've done in the past, and I like the decisions I've made. I don't want to have some Admiral going through my reports and sending me advice I don't want to take." She sighed and leaned back into the couch, taking a sip from her own glass before setting it down. "I guess I've just turned into a maverick."
"No, Kathryn. You're a captain from another era." At her questioning look, he continued. "Do you remember when you lived through Tuvok's memories of the Khitomer conference, and then you went and read through Captain Sulu's logs of the incident?" She nodded. "Well, Harry and I had a conversation afterwards and he told me about what you said about Captain Sulu and Captain Kirk. How back then, the Prime Directive wasn't really the prime directive and phasers were always charged. And how they'd all be cashiered out of Starfleet today." She smiled at the memory. "Well, you know Kathryn, you weren't like them when we got lost out here. But it didn't take you long to start thinking less like a captain of the 24th century, and more like one of the 23rd. Technically, you broke the prime directive to save the Ocampa, and you've risked hell and high water to do right by your crew, just as Sulu did for Kirk and McCoy."
She started to say something, but he waved her off. She closed her mouth and took another sip of the cider. "I met Hikaru Sulu, before he died. Boothby introduced me to him one day, shortly before my first year at the academy and he went on to be my academy sponsor. I must have impressed him." He grinned. "My first debt to Boothby. I think he must know everyone to ever come out of Starfleet Academy."
"I asked Sulu what it was like, serving under Captain Kirk and being a captain himself in the earlier, more chaotic era of Starfleet. He told me then that, back then, there was only one directive – you did what you thought was right, even when your superiors would have told you it was wrong, and dealt with the consequences later. Out here, Kathryn, you have no one who outranks you, and the regulations aren't sufficient to deal with the chaos of the Delta Quadrant." He stopped, and gazed at Janeway, watching her run the ideas through her head.
"Back then no one followed the rules by the letter, because if they did someone was liable to get shot," Janeway murmured. "I guess the Delta Quadrant really isn't all that different." She stopped, and Chakotay saw something like fear, or remorse, in her eyes. She looked up at him. "Chakotay, I never wanted to find myself out here, to be this kind of officer, or this kind of captain. I never trained for it, and I never mentally prepared myself for it. I've just… found myself lost. All I've been able to do is what I thought was right. Have I lived up to the Starfleet legacy? Will I be remembered as a maverick who broke the rules, or as a captain who followed her conscience?" She looked away, and he waited for several seconds until she looked up at him again.
"Back when I met him, I asked Sulu what he thought defined Captain Kirk as an officer – I asked him, specifically, if Kirk would want to be remembered as a captain who always did what he thought was right." Chakotay paused, running Sulu's words through his head. "He told me that there was one moment, one instant, which defined Captain Kirk more than any other. Kirk and his senior officers were standing on the surface of the Genesis Planet, staring up at the sky and watching as their ship, Kirk's Enterprise, burn as it fell through the atmosphere. Kirk had commanded that ship for twenty years, and he'd ordered her to self-destruct because he'd had no choice – it was the only option he had left. Sulu said he heard Kirk whisper, 'My God, Bones… what have I done?' to Doctor McCoy."
Chakotay stopped, and reached out and grasped Kathryn's hands, forcing her to look at him. "Sulu said he'd never forget what McCoy said back to Kirk, and I know I've never forgotten the words either. He said, 'What you had to do. What you've always done. Turn death into a fighting chance to live.' Sulu said that was how Kirk would want to be remembered." He squeezed her hands. "Kathryn, isn't that what you've always done?" He released her hands, which fell limply to her sides, then stood and walked over to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't ever doubt yourself, Kathryn. No one else does, and you have our loyalty, the same loyalty Sulu gave Kirk, if it ever comes to that. I promise." Her hand reached out, seeking his as he pulled off her shoulder, and found it. She grasped it and held on for an instant, squeezing it slightly, before releasing him. Then she looked up and nodded.
"Goodnight, Kathryn." Chakotay laid his glass on Janeway's dining table, and then turned towards the door. With a look back, he met her eyes once more, and exited her quarters.
She stood and prepared for bed, slipping out of her uniform and into her usual nightwear. Her mind was quiet, but certain thoughts kept running through. Finally, she tapped her combadge, which was sitting next to her bed. "Janeway to Chakotay," she said quietly.
"Chakotay here." His voice was warm and comforting, as it had always been, and she felt herself sinking into her bed, wrapping herself in the sheets.
"Thank you, Chakotay."
"Anytime, Kathryn. I'm always here if you need a helping hand. Or a vacation… or just rations for a cup of coffee." She startled herself by laughing and closed the link. Smiling, her mind quieted, and she let herself fall into unconsciousness.
Kathryn Janeway did not want to be awake, but with consciousness came the responsibilities of being captain, and she sat up and started to order the computer to reset her alarm.
Then she realized that the alarm wasn't active. Why am I awake, again? Kathryn sighed and fell backwards against the bed.
"Now now, Kathy, you're awake for a reason. It just so happens that this time, the reason isn't that hideously annoying alarm of yours. Couldn't you choose something a bit less… aggravating?" Janeway knew that voice. She knew the one responsible for the voice. She buried her head under her pillow. Maybe if I just ignore him, he'll go away. She didn't even have time to groan before Q whipped the pillow off of her head, tossing it away. Then he pulled the sheets. Janeway pushed herself up and glared. Hard.
"Q, I'm trying to sleep. Go. Away." Q didn't flinch. Omnipotence is really annoying. She fell backwards onto the bed, determined to ignore Q until he went away.
"You know, Kathy, of all the time we've ever spent together, or ever will spend together, now is probably the most important for you to stop playing the ostrich and pull your head out of the sand." Q's voice had a level of seriousness that Janeway had never associated with him before. She sat up.
"What do you want, Q?"
"That's an interesting question. You see, I'm not here about what I want. I'm here about what you want, Kathy, and you want to keep… how did Chuckles put it… giving your crew a fighting chance to live? He's right, you know – you're far more Kirk than Picard, and yes, that's a complement." Q sat on the end of her bed. "I'm here to give you that fighting chance. Just as I gave Jean-Luc a fighting chance when I introduced him to the Borg the first time."
"So, I take it that Seven's suspicions that we were being herded somewhere by your 'course corrections' weren't unfounded?" Janeway asked. Whatever fatigue she had been enduring was banished, and her glare had softened somewhat.
"No, this time your resident drone saw right through my rather transparent ploy." Q sighed. "Kathy, why do you think I told Jean-Luc about the Borg all those years ago?"
"As I recall from the mission logs, you were out to demonstrate that even the Enterprise was completely outclassed by something in the universe – that there was some threat that would scare Picard enough that he would be dependent on you for the survival of his ship. Then you made him beg for his life." Janeway's voice was wry, but there was an underlying level of tension.
"That… that was part of it. Back then I was still very much in my troublemaker phase. I've learned the 'do not provoke the Borg' lesson in time since." He sighed heavily then started again with more enthusiasm. "But Kathy, if I hadn't introduced the Enterprise to the Borg, what do you think would have happened when they invaded? It would have been a lot worse than forty starships at Wolf 359, I can guarantee you that." Q jumped off the bed and started pacing. "Kathy, there are two great powers in this galaxy. Two. One is the Borg. What do you think the other is?"
Janeway shrugged. "Species 8472? The Dominion? The Q?" He waved her off, shaking his head.
"No, no, the continuum doesn't count. And the Dominion isn't as stable as you think – anyone who needs to subjugate the majority of their troops by addicting them to drugs is asking for trouble. As for 8472, they're not from this galaxy, but even if they were, I'm confident the Borg could handle them the second time around without too many problems, now that they know their 'Got a problem? Just add nanoprobes!' can solve 8472 also." He turned. "Come on, Kathy, it's obvious. Not long ago I might have said the Krenim, but that threat to galactic stability has been defused."
Janeway shrugged again. She'd risen up out of bed and was searching for a uniform. Over her shoulder, she said, "Well, if you're not counting the Q, then you're not counting a whole lot of supernaturally powerful beings, right? So I can't pick the Bajoran prophets."
Q shuddered and his face contorted. "The prophets?" He made an exaggerated sound of disgust. "Nobody messes with a race that exists outside the scope of space-time. Luckily for everyone, they also tend not to mess with anybody. You know, I met Benjamin Sisko once. I thought he might be a new source of entertainment – he definitely had a temper. But once I realized who he was, I left him alone and never went back to that wretched space station."
Janeway's eyebrow rose, but she said nothing. She'd had dinner with Commander Sisko and his son Jake while Voyager was docked at Deep Space 9 seven years before on her way into the Badlands. He'd briefed her on his experiences with the Maquis. She'd rather liked the man, and understood from Starfleet's monthly briefs that he'd become a significant figure during the Dominion War.
She turned her mind back to the question Q had asked. The other great power in the universe, along with the Borg. Q tapped his foot, obviously getting impatient. She shrugged. "The Federation?" she asked.
"Bingo!" Q said excitedly. "The Borg and the Federation! And you're both two sides of the same coin." Janeway's mouth snapped open, outrage bubbling up inside of her. Q shut her off with a glare. "Don't say it! The Federation and the Borg both gobble up all the technology and culture and people they possibly can, integrating them into a society that takes their skills and finds a way to use them to their greatest ability. Oh, sure, ideologically you're a little different, but practically you're more alike than you would like to admit." Q's head bobbed back and forth as he listed examples. "You're both groups of cultures and species, while essentially every other organization is based around one species or another. Think about it: there is no 'Human Empire' because humanity founded the Federation. If humanity disappeared tomorrow the Federation would still survive. Do you think anyone actually remembers the species that started the Borg? The collective doesn't even remember where it came from anymore. Just ask your drone. She'll tell you, 'the collective's memory from that time is… fragmented' or some such ridiculousness. It's true, of course, but the truth is, it doesn't matter. No one cares where the Borg came from."
Q started pacing around the room, walking in circles and gesticulating wildly. "Why do you think the Borg are always taking potshots at the Federation, but have never mounted a full-scale attack? They went through great lengths to try to stop the Federation from even coming into existence, although they failed. In the end, they know only the Federation is a true threat to the Borg. The Federation collects skills, individuals, cultures – for crying out loud, Kathy, even the Klingons might as well be members at this point. The Cardassians, of all people, are working towards membership! I wouldn't be surprised if the Changelings joined the Federation someday. And the Romulans!"
Janeway found her voice. "Q, what is your point?"
Q turned back to her. "My point is, eventually the day would come when the Borg would finally decide that the Federation is too great a risk – that someday, Federation innovation would surpass Borg assimilation – and take steps, real steps, not those piddling attacks on Earth which Starfleet calls 'invasions,' to eliminate that threat once and for all. And I am here… to make sure that you know it's coming. Because just like all those years ago, when Jean-Luc and the Enterprise were the only people in a position to stop the Borg then, today, Kathy and Voyager are the only people who can stop them now." He stared at her. Hard.
"I like you, Kathy. And I like Jean-Luc. And you two have passed every test we've ever given, every question of worthiness, and readiness, and of intelligence that the continuum could think of. There is no more time for tests, for spatial anomalies dragging you backwards in time or giant space jellyfish, tortured by some idiot Denebian. How it will end… I don't know, Kathy. The only officer Starfleet ever produced for this who would really be up to the challenge of fighting the Borg on their terms is Kirk, and he's dead. Welcome to the right place at the right time. Maybe it's because I helped you along, like I helped Jean-Luc along. Maybe you're here because you were meant to be. Good luck, Kathy. I'd like to see how the Queen deals with defeat."
And then he was gone.
Janeway pondered Q's prophetic words as she slipped on her red and black uniform and pinned her captain's pips to her collar. The uniform was neat, pressed, and clean – just as she had always assumed her Starfleet career would be. She ran her hands down it, pressing it out just a little bit more, working the wrinkles out of existence.
Is this it? The moment of truth? Q sounded downright panicky. Am I walking into the final clash with the Borg? The best of both worlds, part two? They won the first round at Wolf 359, but the Enterprise got the last laugh. A short, irreverent though popped into existence. Why does Q care, anyway? She didn't have time to ponder it. Besides, Q probably didn't care; he was just playing with the lowly mortals.
Janeway took a few deep breaths, working herself into a state of calm that Tuvok had taught her to reach for between moments of crisis. We've fought the Borg before, and we've won. And Species 8472. And others. "We're ready. This time, we're ready." She said the words aloud, to herself. She thought back to Chakotay's words from the night before, which Q had echoed. A fighting chance to live.
"Kim to Janeway." Harry had the night shift, and was still in command. She glanced at the chronometer. Still early. He wouldn't be calling if it weren't important.
Janeway tapped her combadge. "Go ahead, Ensign."
"Captain, we've detected a large number of transwarp signatures. It looks like a massive number of Borg cubes, somewhere between forty and fifty. All of them are headed towards a nebula about twelve hours ahead of us." Harry's voice was nervous, but steady.
"Take us out of warp, Ensign, and find us something to hide in or behind. I want the ship rigged for silent running – if we can avoid detection we'll be far better off. I'm on my way to the bridge. Get the rest of the senior staff out of bed."
"Yes ma'am." The link with the bridge cut out.
Janeway jolted herself into action, moving quickly out of her quarters. The smooth lines of her uniform wrinkled from the movement. She had work to do.