Chapter Twenty-Seven

Margaret stood at her favorite lookout point on Alpha Walker, where she could see down to the shipyard, and all the surrounding runways from which her Apocrypha flyers took to the skies. But they were all motionless now; the ones that remained would never fly again, and the others had been deployed to Earth with supplies for the war.

Margaret was alone. She enjoyed being alone, as it was the only time when she genuinely felt free. No one could disturb her here, no one could threaten the peace and tranquility she had found in this out-of-the-way place.

He had tried to take it from her. He had tried to steal her only refuge, and after a lifetime of being his victim, she could not let him have his way in this. She bore scars all over her body from his abuse, and his attempts to turn her into one of his drones. The Ultimate Starfleet Officer. He was impervious to the screams of his victims; perhaps he even enjoyed hearing them. And he never gave up on her, never let up in his attempts to capture her and force Borg implants into her body. It was as if his crusade was not complete without the blood and bones of his only sister.

If she died a free woman, the master of her own destiny, then he would not have won. He would be forced to go to his own grave with at least one victory outstanding.

Margaret's quiet contemplation was interrupted by the sound of a shuttlecraft landing. Kathryn Janeway, looking badly injured, stepped out of her ship and made her way with difficulty up to the lookout. She was still wearing her Apocrypha racing uniform.

"Margaret!"

"I've ordered the station evacuated!" she replied. "Get out of here, Kathryn."

Kathryn had climbed as far as she could. She rested her hands on the railing, looking up at Margaret from many feet below.

"I know what you're planning to do."

"Do you? Then I would suggest you leave now, because in about seven minutes this place will be blown to pieces."

"That's what I've come to see you about."

"If you've come to reason with me, you're a little late."

"Why did you never tell me what happened to you? Why did you hide your history with Admiral O'Shaughnessy?"

"There was no need. I thank you, Kathryn, for everything you've done. You have been a fine addition to our little racing club. But it's time to go home now. You don't really belong with us."

"I'm afraid that's not true. I'm afraid I belong with you more than ever."

"How's that?"

"You sent me to seek out the Borg, to find out what is behind the Ultimate Starfleet Officer project. Aren't you in the least bit curious to know what I've learned?"

She turned her black eyes away from Kathryn's gaze. "I already have the information I need."

"I don't think you do. Margaret, we were wrong in our assumption that there was an alliance formed between Starfleet and the Borg. There is no alliance. Your brother has been holding the Borg hostage for the bodies of dead drones. If they don't comply, he has threatened to use the Psychic Sisters drug to destroy the collective."

"Psychic Sisters – "

"It is a biologic engineered to destroy Borg drones, and by the same token, the building block of the hybrids your brother engineered. It puts the entire collective in peril, yet the Cassandras and all the other prototypes cannot survive without it."

Margaret, to her own intense surprise, threw her head back and laughed.

"You'll have to let me in on the joke," said Kathryn.

"We're the joke. He's got you, he's got me. And now he's got the collective."

"Maybe not."

Margaret looked down with curiosity at the red-haired woman standing on the stairs.

"Kathryn, you've been injured. What happened to you out there?"

"I'm pregnant," she replied, her voice controlled and matter-of-fact. "The child I'm carrying is what your brother is after; the closest thing to a perfect fusion of Borg and human genetic material."

"The Ultimate Starfleet Officer," she murmured in reply.

"Exactly. Margaret, it's over. You may think you're fighting a war up here, but I have what he really wants. Margaret… You're free."

Margaret shook her head. "I'm never free."

"You will be if you help me to survive. If you destroy this space station, I'll die, and so will all of the women you've been protecting. No one is better equipped to defeat O'Shaughnessy than the Cassandras. Together, we can win this. But we need your help."

"He's taken everything I have."

"Then take it back. Take that cell in the engine room, take the Cassandras with you and build a new Apocrypha. You can generate the biologic from there."

Margaret was silent.

"Warning. Auto-destruct sequence will activate in two minutes."

"Please, Margaret!"

Author's Note: After five (!) years, the saga that was "Apocrypha" and "Star of the County Down" has come to an end! I still can't believe that what started out as my little device to get Janeway and Chakotay together turned into this winding tale of government conspiracies and betrayal. If you enjoyed these stories, the theme continues in "Senza Misura," located in the ST:TNG archive, rated M (of course!). Much love, Dana

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fleet Admiral O'Shaughnessy stood surrounded by his trusted advisors, and awaited the arrival of a person who had become very special to him indeed.

He was expecting her to enter clumsily, looking horribly disheveled, pale, and disoriented. He was expecting her to ask immediately to sit down. Maybe she would even ask for a glass of water. He would enjoy pouring one for her.

"Admiral O'Shaughnessy, Kathryn Janeway to see you."

The edges of his thin mouth curled in a smile.

"Send her in right away, Janine."

"Yes sir."

In a moment, the double doors slid apart, and the woman who entered his office did not look in the least the way he had expected. She was impeccably dressed, in her newly reinstated Starfleet uniform and Captain's pips. She walked with a quick, self-assured stride, and her long auburn hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her face was not pale at all. In truth, one might have said she looked positively radiant.

"Captain."

"Admiral O'Shaughnessy, good morning."

He struggled to find his bearings, catching momentarily the nystagmus-plagued eye of Admiral Montoya.

"Won't you sit down. I…. I trust that you and Commander Chakotay find your new officer's quarters adequate?"

She sat down before him and gave him a bright smile. "Yes, thank you, I think we'll be quite comfortable. I have to say, though, that I was surprised at how quickly you managed to reinstate Commander Chakotay's commission."

"It's a funny story, actually," said O'Shaughnessy, joining her at the table but keeping his eyes on Montoya. "It seems that Starfleet had the wrong man all along. The crimes Commander Chakotay was accused of were in point of fact committed by a John Balthasar, a former officer with a grudge, it would seem. You can rest assured he won't be heard from again."

Only then did he fix Captain Janeway with his dark eyes, devoid of mercy.

"How convenient that he was apprehended," she said neatly.

"Yes. Captain, I must say I'm gratified to know that you've accepted your commission, and I trust that we can put this Apocrypha business to rest."

"Oh yes, Admiral," replied Captain Janeway. "I spoke with my doctor, and apparently I had been suffering from some degree of post-traumatic stress since my return from Voyager. That may have precipitated my participation in an organization such as Apocrypha."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Captain, even the best of us. Just so long as your space-racing days are behind you."

"You won't have to worry about that, Admiral," she said rather cheerily. "As far as I know, Apocrypha no longer exists. Alpha Walker has been entirely evacuated, and there is no trace of the Apocrypha crew, nor its vessels."

There was a long silence, during which Admiral O'Shaughnessy's gaze travelled sharply from one member of his team, to the next. Montoya nearly took a step forward, but O'Shaughnessy's stare stopped him cold.

"Is that so," he stated flatly.

"Yes, sir," said Captain Janeway. "Apocrypha is a thing of the past."

She studied him, he felt, with an off-putting manner that betrayed nothing and demanded everything.

"Well," he said curtly, "that is a tremendous relief to us all. Welcome back to the family, Captain."

He shook her hand, masking, as far as he could, his great disgust.

PAGE BREAK

Kathryn listened for the click of the doors behind her before she relaxed, and allowed herself to breathe.

As she walked confidently out of the office, a small smile played on her face.

For she had seen, in the countenance of Admiral Derek O'Shaughnessy, exactly what she had desired to see.

Fear.

THE END