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Switched
Chapter 32
Admiral Edward Janeway stared in astonishment at the woman before him. She was considerably older than a freckled red-haired thirteen year old girl he loved more than life, but despite the aging hand of time he could see that child in her face.
"Kathryn?"
Tears filled Kathryn's eyes at the sight of the man she had loved so much and lost so tragically. For a long while they just gazed at each other, then Edward spoke.
"What are you doing here?"
Dawson answered and Kathryn was grateful to him. Right now she could hardly breathe let alone speak. "I can explain," he said. "Kathryn's twin stole this ship...I mean in the future, 2378...with the intention of putting her baby-self in Kathryn's place. Kathryn was trying to stop her. The ship crashed landed and her twin was hurt. I've vaporized the ship as it was on fire and going to explode."
"I see," Edward said. "Then you weren't here to..." he hesitated uncomfortably... "to do something or to undo something?"
"No," Kathryn replied, finally finding her voice. "But it seems that you are." She paused and her voice fell to barely more than a whisper. "How can you? How can you switch your own baby?"
Edward stepped forward. "Two reasons. Both of equal weight. Firstly, the survival of our planet depends on it. Secondly, because I love my goldenbird."
At those words, a tear escaped Kathryn's eye. Tenderly, Edward reached out and put his hand to her cheek. "You're my baby, Kathryn. You're the child I've loved and raised for thirteen years. I can't imagine my life without you."
Hardly aware of what she was doing, Kathryn leant into his broad body and hugged him hard. "Oh Daddy."
Edward wrapped his arms around her and they tearfully held each other tight.
Dawson lowered his eyes, feeling like an intruder, but then Edward drew away. "Time is running out on us," he said. "We've got less than an hour to do this." He addressed Dawson. "Will, did you get the access chip?"
"No," he answered. "I got sidelined by the crash."
Edward clenched his fist. "Damn it! We need that chip!"
"You're forgetting time's not a problem here," Dawson replied. "We're in a time-ship. We can go back in time and get it."
"No we can't," Edward cried. "With every self-transport this ship loses more and more integrity. We have two transports left, three at most, before this ship disintegrates. And those two we'll need to get Kathryn and ourselves home."
Kathryn reached into a pocket of her newly replicated pants and pulled out a black pouch. "This wouldn't be the chip, by any chance, would it?"
Edward took the pouch, opened it, and pulled out a small coin-like silver chip. On the back of it were the letters 'S.C.U'.
"Yes," he said in amazement. "Where did you get it?"
"It's a long story," she replied. "Suffice it to say Temporal Prime Directive."
"Well," Edward said, "however you got it, I'm sure glad it's here."
"What is it?" Kathryn asked. "A key to where?"
"The Special Care Unit," he answered. "Only authorized staff have access."
"I see," Kathryn replied.
"And we're going to have to get there. Your medical profile was drawn up at 11:48pm. It's now ..." he glanced at an old fashioned digital watch on his wrist "11:05pm. We've got just over forty minutes to pull this off." He turned back to Dawson. "Come on, Will. Plan A."
But Dawson didn't budge. He just looked at Kathryn warily.
"What is it?" Edward asked.
"I think it would be unwise for both of us to leave this vessel."
Kathryn immediately caught his drift: he was cautiously suspicious of her. If both he and her father left the ship, it would be at her free disposal.
"Ok," Edward said, sentiment never blinding his professional judgment. "You stay. But I can't do this alone. Kathryn, will you assist me?"
Kathryn's stomach churned and her throat closed. Assist in switching herself? How could she? But how could she not?
"Kathryn..." her father prompted. "We're running out of time!"
"Yes," she said. "I'll help."
As they hurried across a windy field to Bloomington's small Birthing Center, Kathryn's father told her the plan.
"There's a nurse on duty in the unit," he said, "just the one. It's an unusually busy night, lots of babies are being born, so finding a nurse when you need one is difficult. I'll knock on the nurse's booth...she has one next to the unit...and tell her I came to see my baby but am suddenly feeling very sick. Hopefully she'll sit me in the seating area around the corner and attend to me. While she does, you slip into the unit and switch the babies. When you have, walk passed the seating area so I know you have. Then I'll say I feel better and meet you outside." He stopped walking momentarily and turned to his daughter. "Can you do it, Kathryn? I need to know you can do it."
"Yes," she said. "I can do it."
"Are you sure? I know what it's asking."
"No more of me than what it's asking of you. I'm sure."
Edward put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "Then let's do it."
Hiding in the shadows, Kathryn watched as her father knocked on the nurse's booth and feigned sickness. Just as he'd hoped, the young nurse left her post and helped him to a row of seats around the corner. As soon as they disappeared, Kathryn hurried over to the unit's door, opened it with the chip, and stepped inside. There were incubators all around but her sharp eyes quickly noted that only five were occupied. In one was a tiny black baby, in another a white baby with a mop of black curly hair, in another was a small baby with copper curls, and in two incubators very close together were two diddy babies with ginger hair. The two babies next to each other had to be herself and Cayla, and the lone red-haired infant had to be Lacey. Kathryn pulled out her tricorder and hurried over to the sleeping twins, but when she reached them and looked down at them, tears blurred her vision. They were so tiny, so helpless, and were facing each other as though they knew where the other was. For a moment, just a moment, Kathryn's resolve left her. How could she do it? How could she separate them? But she had too. She had to remember that one of them was herself, had to remember what was at stake. Wiping away a tear, she switched on her tricorder so she could scan the babies, but to her horror found it wasn't working. It had been damaged in the crash. What was she going to do now? Without a tricorder, how was she going to tell which twin was herself?
You were such a tiny baby, the tiniest I'd ever seen.
Her mother's words drifted back to her and Kathryn quickly compared both babies to see which one was the smallest. It was the second. Her little head was barely the size of an orange and her arms were no fatter than a finger. This tiny wrinkly baby had to be herself. Around one arm was an identifying armband and written on it were the words 'Brenton baby 2'. Kathryn carefully unfastened the armband and then placed it on the blanket. She had intended to switch herself and Lacey by picking them up and putting them in each other's incubator, but as they were both attached to devices, the only way of making the swap was to swap them in their incubators. The incubators were free-standing and were made to be wheeled about. Quickly, Kathryn pushed her baby-self over to where Lacey lay, pulled out Lacey's incubator, and put the other in its place. Then she removed Lacey's armband, which read 'Janeway baby', and replaced it with the one she had removed from her baby-self's arm. When that was done, she pushed Lacey into the now empty space next to Cayla and fastened the 'Brenton baby 2' armband around her wrist.
Suddenly high heels echoed down the corridor outside and Kathryn turned towards the window fearing that the nurse was on her way. But the heels belonged to an Asian doctor who passed the unit without so much as looking inside. Kathryn exhaled in relief but knew that it could not be long before the nurse did return. Her father wouldn't be able to command her attention forever. Having done what she had come to do, Kathryn took one last look at the sleeping babies and then quietly slipped from the room.
Holding back tears, Kathryn walked down the corridor and turned the corner. The nurse was handing Edward a glass of water and Kathryn walked passed them as planned. The corridor turned another corner and Kathryn came to the lift zone. However, at the end of the long corridor was a door leading to The Griffy maternity ward. Usually the door was locked, even during visiting hours as friends and family had to register at reception for an access code to get in, but the corridor was being cleaned and the door was open and unattended. Kathryn knew from her research that she, Cayla and Lacey had been born in the Griffy Wing and that could only mean that somewhere beyond that door was Gretchen, the mother she loved, and Marette, the mother who had given her life. As though she was metal to magnet, Kathryn found herself pulled towards the door and before she knew it she was inside the ward.
The ward consisted of six private rooms, three on each side, and those that were occupied were marked with a blue light. Kathryn slowly passed the rooms and looked into them through a circular window on the door. In the first left was a young girl, no more than twenty years of age, cradling a crying baby in her arms, and in the first right was a black woman lying in bed talking to a black man. The next two rooms were unoccupied, but in the last left was a couple that made Kathryn gasp when she saw them. The woman, in her forties, was lying in bed and looking at her was almost like looking in the mirror. She had pale freckled skin, small lips and blue eyes, and a familiar shade of auburn hair. Beside her, in a chair, was an older man with wavy silver hair that reached his shoulders. Kathryn's heart raced as she looked at them. They had to be Marette and Draye. They had to be her biological parents.
For a long time Kathryn looked at them, unable to pull herself away, but eventually she did. Trembling and sweating, she leant against the door and took a deep breath. This was all so surreal, like being trapped in a disturbing dream. Not being able to take any more, she closed her eyes and willed herself to wake if she was sleeping, but when she opened her eyes she found herself faced with another torment. Through a circular window opposite, she could see Gretchen, her dear beloved mother, lying in bed fast asleep. Tears flooded Kathryn's eyes and she stepped over to the glass. How young her mother looked, how frail. Beneath a mane of long chestnut hair her skin was as white as the blankets surrounding her. Kathryn slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. Exhausted after giving birth, Gretchen didn't so much as stir, and Kathryn quietly stepped over to the bed. Pain, profound pain, filled Kathryn's heart as she looked at this much loved woman and she could hardly breathe. How could she have done it? How could she have deprived this woman of the child she'd labored so hard to bring into the world? And yet it had to be. Even her father said it had to be. The switch had to be made.
"I'm so sorry, Mom," Kathryn whispered tearfully. "So sorry."
Then, unable to endure the scene any longer, she turned around and left.
END OF CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO