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Stardate 54993.2 Personal Log Entry, Cadet Icheb
Until today, I hadn't noticed I hadn't posted anything in my personal log recently. So much has been going on to distract me. Although I've had much to consider since our arrival in the Alpha Quadrant, I haven't been able to organize my thoughts well enough to record them here up to now. I'll try to do better from now on.
We've had our fly-by over the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco; we paraded through the city with confetti and streamers raining down upon our heads; and our "Welcome Home, Voyager!" luncheon is over. Several Federation and Starfleet officers who spoke at it advised us to be prepared for many more "welcoming" events. I hope they mean to include ALL the crew when they hold any more of them.
I expected to view the fly-by and fireworks on the screen in Astrometrics, but Naomi invited me to watch them through the Mess Hall windows with her and her mother. Seven thought I'd enjoy it more if I were with friends instead of standing alone in Astrometrics, since Seven would be at her bridge station that evening. Several news organizations had contacted the captain and assured her they would transmit a view of everything from their own imaging equipment to Voyager, which meant we'd be able to see what those on the ground did, as well as the official log recording from the bridge viewscreen. I finished watching both recordings just before starting this log entry. It truly was a spectacular event. Seven was right. I'm glad my "live" view took place with friends, looking out of the Mess Hall windows.
Maybe it was the company. Ensign Wildman had tears in her eyes and hugged Naomi fiercely as we passed over the bridge. Tom managed to dodge all the sky rockets, just as the captain had cautioned him to do. It was exciting to see the bright colors and glittering rockets bursting above, around, and below us as we sailed by the bridge and up into the sky before assuming orbit around the Earth. As we made our first few transits over the night side of the planet, we could see other cities lighting up their skies with lighting displays as we passed over them, to let us know how happy they were we were home. That got to me. I felt moisture in my eyes, and Naomi reached out to squeeze my hand once she noticed. The fireworks which "greeted" me when I reached my home planet had been so very different. I saw them later when I hacked into the logs: Voyager, firing on the Borg sphere that was using a tractor beam to draw my Brunali transport inside their vessel; followed by the explosion of the photon torpedo which they'd transported inside my little ship in exchange for me. That saved me from enduring a second assimilation while simultaneously allowing Voyager to escape. The Borg sphere had been too damaged to pursue our ship.
Naomi told me afterwards that when she saw my tears, she guessed I might be thinking about something like that. I thanked her then, but I think I need to speak to her again to let her know just how much her friendship means to me. We've grown very close in the past year, despite the difference in our ages. Actually, that difference has lessened quite a bit over the past several months. Ktarian children - or half-Ktarians, like Naomi - may develop physically in half the time human ones do, but her mental maturity level may be even greater even than that of other Ktarian children of equivalent age. Naomi has lived virtually her entire life with adults. She never had day-to-day contact with any children until our Collective came on board. She's experienced many critical events just since I've known her, even before Admiral Janeway arrived on Voyager. (I'm not afraid to record that now, since the captain told us we must answer all questions in our debriefings. If we're revealing how we got through the Trans-Warp Hub, the admiral's coming from the future can't be concealed any longer.)
Anyway, since our fly-by occurred at night, our parade and the welcome home luncheon didn't take place until the next day. The parade was fun, although, since we were sitting in ground vehicles hovering just over the roadway, the spectators lining the streets and cheering us probably had a better view of it than we did. All we could see were the groups immediately before and behind us. I heard the band playing right in front of the vehicle I shared with Seven, Tom, B'Elanna, and Miral, but I couldn't hear any others. What I could hear was nice, although the music was very different from what I'd expected, based on music I'd listened to on Voyager. The group playing nearest to us was a Celtic pipe and drum band. Tom explained the swirling, almost wild sound came from the bagpipes. The music may have sounded strange, but I really liked it. B'Elanna didn't. She said some of the songs would have fit right in with Klingon operas. B'Elanna apparently isn't a fan.
Tom had warned me the luncheon would be a "rubber chicken event." I wasn't looking forward to the meal after he told us that, but it actually tasted very good. When I mentioned this to B'Elanna and Seven, they both laughed. B'Elanna informed me that a "rubber chicken event" had more to do with the speeches we'd be forced to listen to, not the food itself. And she was right. There were a LOT of speeches. Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay were sitting next to each other on the main dais, which was located in front of all of the other tables in the hall. They were both asked to say "a few words" to thank everyone for the "warm welcome." I hoped Commander Chakotay's prominent place and chance to speak boded well, indicating that the Federation and Starfleet were welcoming all of the Maquis as warmly as the Starfleet crew.
I'd hoped to get a chance to do a little sightseeing after the luncheon, but we were transported back up to Voyager as soon as it was over. Captain Janeway explained we all had to stay on board until we were dismissed from our individual debriefings. I guess I can wait a little longer to visit Griffith Observatory with Tom. He promised to take me there to show me where Tuvok and him exchanged phaser fire with one of Henry Starling's henchmen. That occurred when Voyager went back to the twentieth century. That's where they met a woman named Rain Robinson who, Tom said, "was really smart and nice." That's before he and B'Elanna "got close," as he put it.
I've looked up a Rain Robinson who'd worked at the Griffith Observatory during the late twentieth century. After she left her job there, she took a position at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena. She was on that staff during several of the unmanned missions to the outer planets; and she was a member of the team which planned the first manned missions to Mars. While meeting Tom may have influenced her choice of employment, Tuvok may have made more an even greater impression. Tom admits she probably guessed that Tuvok's Vulcan ears weren't shaped the way they are due to a "family trait." That was Tom's explanation. Strictly speaking, that's an accurate description of why they look that way, though. Tuvok inherited those ears from his parents!
We understand Voyager will remain in orbit for a while, but rumor has it that it will go to Space Dock as soon as everyone has had their "dispositions" confirmed. All of the Borg-related and futuristic alterations which have been made to the ship are making Starfleet engineers "salivate," according to Freddie. They want to examine everything to see what can be adapted immediately to Starfleet's current starships. During our trip through the Delta Quadrant, the crew encountered several other advanced propulsion systems which they've tried to perfect - so far, without success. Although they hadn't managed to get any to work for Voyager before the admiral's temporal venture helped us return, now that we've arrived where the greatest engineering minds in the Federation are located, and with the resources available here, the problems inherent in one or more may soon be overcome. Seven has already been asked to make herself available for consultations about these technologies. I understand Harry Kim has been, too. No word on anyone asking Tom or B'Elanna about them - yet. Once decisions about their future have been made (positive ones, I'm sure), I suspect they will be.
I'm scheduled for debriefings with Starfleet and Academy personnel later today. Seven has already been interviewed several times. While she believes she'll have to tolerate a few more before her "inquisition is over," she thinks I'll be released this afternoon once mine are finished. If she's right, I'll be free to do some sightseeing after that. Lieutenant Barclay has offered to bring Seven and me to the Starfleet Communications Center for a tour. He said he'll also show us around the Academy grounds if we wish. There's a gardener there Reg would like us to meet. He's a "very wise man that's worth getting to know," he said.
Aunt Irene wants Seven and me to visit her in Sweden as soon as possible. She says she's leaving up her holiday decorations for us, if we can't get there before the season is over. It's winter and very cold where she lives, but I guess we'll go. She told us the Aurora Borealis has been beautiful this year. I'm looking forward to seeing that.
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Icheb read over his personal log entry. After a short debate with himself, he decided it was okay to leave it just as he'd dictated it. While mentioning her had made a little nervous, there really wasn't any need to hide Admiral Janeway's involvement anymore. The captain announced she was lifting the prohibition about revealing the temporal aspects of their trip home since, by now, if the Federation Temporal Police of the future didn't want any of this known, the trip through the hub and all their memories of it would have been erased. Voyager would be in the Delta Quadrant, still traveling towards "home," with no end of their journey in sight.
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As Seven had predicted, Icheb was allowed to take Shore Leave after his official debriefing interviews were over. The official ones went far deeper into the details than he'd expected, since he was only a cadet. They all wanted to know how he'd come up with the "anti-assimilation serum." Icheb had to gently correct them in this perception. "The neurolytic pathogen doesn't really prevent the assimilation process from taking place. It halts it midway, however, when it disrupts the nervous system of the assimilating drone and spreads from there."
"That qualifies as anti-assimilation to me, Cadet," Captain Murtagh countered. "The result is the exactly the same." Icheb decided he would not correct him further, since the one who had the neurolytic pathogen in his or her body would still die. He did correct Admiral Kempson of Starfleet Medical when he expressed the same sentiment as Captain Murtagh during his Academy placement interviews, which followed the debriefing sessions. The admiral accepted Icheb's explanation. He also suggested Icheb might wish to follow the medical sciences track at the Academy. He said Icheb had too much potential as a physician to be "wasted" in another Science track, let alone in Command or Engineering. Icheb thanked Admiral Kempton very politely and said he would take his suggestion "under advisement."
Rear Admiral Marja Dombroski interrogated him on his knowledge of Borg engineering systems. He admitted that since he was expelled from the maturation chamber before his indoctrination as a Borg was complete, his knowledge was quite limited in comparison to Seven's. After he'd answered her questions for over an hour, the admiral shook her head and remarked, "If that's what you call limited knowledge, I'm really looking forward to my interview with Seven of Nine tomorrow."
Professor Reagan evaluated Icheb's proficiency in Stellar Cartography, a subject which Icheb was very comfortable in discussing, thanks to his many shifts in Astrometrics. When Icheb described how he'd determined a high-resolution gravimetric sensor array might detect neutrino emission fluxes, which could lead them to wormholes that had, eventually, become the path home, Professor Reagan praised Icheb. He confided that Thomas Paris had been one of his students at the Academy, and Icheb's abilities "dwarfed" Mr. Paris's. "Didn't Tom do well in your class?" Icheb asked, a little taken aback, knowing how much Tom knew about the subject.
"To the contrary, in my class, Cadet Paris actually paid attention. He was committed to learning the material. Many instructors complained about how he would do just enough to slide by in their subjects, but he was always - forgive the pun - one of my 'stellar' students. I'm complimenting you when I compare your level of knowledge to his. You have a very bright future, young man!"
Several other instructors spoke to him in a group, reviewing Commander Tuvok's records of his course work so far. While the group said they were unable to confirm they'd take his tutor's recommendation to place Icheb with the second year cadets, it appeared "very reasonable one."
By the time this last interview was over, it was almost 2100 hours. All Icheb wanted to do was ingest a quick meal and hit his bunk for a long nap, or even an early bedtime. Seven had been correct in assuming she would have another interview the next day, but she gave permission for Lieutenant Barclay to take Icheb on the tour he'd been promised, even though she couldn't accompany them.
While Icheb enjoyed seeing the Project Pathfinder headquarters and touring the Academy buildings, he had to admit that meeting the head gardener, Boothby, was the highlight of his day. Boothby asked him all sorts of interesting questions that really made him think, even more than he had the previous day during some of the interviews by the Academy staff. At the end, he told Icheb, "I have a hunch we'll be speaking with each other fairly often, Cadet. Picking your brains is very entertaining. I hope you get something out of it, too!" Icheb laughed and said, politely, that he was sure he would.
When they walked away from Boothby, Reg told Icheb, "I'll b-bet you will talk to Boothby a lot, Cadet. He isn't easily impressed. I can't remember him taking that much time talking with me as he just did with you - and on your first meeting! He likes you, Icheb. You should b-be honored."
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