Captain Janeway led the investigation of the space station wreckage throughout the next two days, to very minimal findings.
"It exploded, we don't know why," summarized Kathryn, massaging her temples as she sat at her desk.
She spoke tiredly to her First Officer, "This can't be good Chakotay."
"I'm sure it's not," he said, shaking his head, "But at this point I think we don't have any choice but to leave the area."
"I think you're right," she said sighing and standing up.
She stretched her arms behind her head, and stared out the window, "You know the worse thing about being this close to home, is any threats to this region of space could threaten Earth too. I didn't worry about that in the Delta Quadrant."
She paused a long moment, and sighed again.
"You know I still haven't read my letters from my mother and Phoebe. I've never put it off before," said Kathryn, turning to him, questioning, "Why would I do that?"
"Because you're worried." he replied.
"I was worried before we ran into Kh'thoh and this terrible tragedy…..about Gretchen….and about my own guilt," she confessed, in a quiet voice.
"We may be home soon," she continued sadly, "And there are so many members of this crew who won't be joining us…..ever….and even for the ones who will…..so many things will be different."
"Not all bad," said Chakotay gently, "Harry's lost a fiancée…..but he's gained a lifelong friend in Tom…more than one lifelong friend on this crew," he added, as she looked at him again, "Seven's been rescued from the Borg. The Doctor is an individual. You can't only look at the negative."
"You can't only look at the positive," she accused, smiling lightly.
"I don't," he said self-assuredly, "I just don't stare at the abyss until it poisons my mind…..until it punishes me for all the wrong choices I've made…..if I made any at all," he said standing, and coming near her.
"What else can I do?" said Kathryn, turning away.
"Forgive yourself," answered Chakotay gently.
"I can't," she said, staring at the wall, "It's the Captain's job to take responsibility. I got us stranded out here, I've made the decisions that's led to every death. My mistakes, my weaknesses."
"It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life," said Chakotay, as if quoting.
"Jean-Luc Picard," he continued, giving the reference, "A man who knows something about the burden of being a Captain. And something about life, that making mistakes is no excuse for not getting back up and trying again. That no Starfleet Captain who ever lived was perfect. That that isn't the point."
Kathryn looked at him, surprised. She looked away for another moment, but then returned her gaze to his face, "I miss it Chakotay," she whispered, "I miss being part of a team. Part of Starfleet. Gretchen thinks it was my dream to be dictator of my own ship…..unchallenged, unquestionable. But it wasn't…..I like being challenged, I like being questioned, I like learning from my peers. I wanted to be Captain but…I always thought I'd have people around me, other Captains, Admirals, Academy mentors, to support me….well…..I know it's a stereotype, but it's lonely at the top."
Chakotay held out his hand, and took hers, squeezing it, "I know…..I wish I could do more for that than you'll allow but…."
Kathryn looked away.
He paused, and his voice changed, "Regardless of how you feel about that...you should know...if you can't forgive yourself….I have a feeling our daughter can't forgive herself either. For the same kind of mistakes, the same kind of losses."
Kathryn flinched and nodded, "I know."
"I wish it was as simple as forgiveness," she added under her breath, sighing.
Finally she looked towards the window and straightened her shoulders.
She clenchd his hand once, and then let it fall.
"Give the order to move out."
"And so we're off again to find a mythical Klingon world that may not exist, this time with a murderous something or other in the background, sneaking around and blowing up space stations," said Tom, sarcastically recounting the Captain's orders on his latest shift, "Just another day on Voyager,"
The trio of Tom, Harry, and Gretchen were in Harry's Quarters. It was dinner time, but none of them had eaten. Harry had not wanted to visit the Mess Hall, and the other two had not been able to talk him into it. Tom was slouching into the side of Harry's couch, while Harry leaned over his coffee table, staring at the floor unmoving. Gretchen sat on the floor, facing them, one hand holding up her head despondently.
"It's too bad," the young woman added, sighing, "That we can't go back to the old array, but B'Elanna says it got caught back into the nebula when we had to leave early. It didn't survive the pressure…..of course it was damaged in the first place."
"Yeah," said Harry, "It really sucked. It was damaged, and old and….useless."
Harry's shoulders sagged, and he did not look up, even as he spoke.
Gretchen leaned further into her own arms, and no one broke the silence for several long minutes.
"All those bodies….." she asked the men finally, looking away, a hitch in her voice, "What are we going to do about them?"
"Nothing." said Tom evenly, "There's no way we can carry or bury thousands of bodies. We just have to leave them there."
"It's better if you forget them," he added, looking at her stoically.
"Oh is that how you deal with things?" said Gretchen suddenly, snapping at him in irritation.
Tom looked at her, and then looked away. There was something in his face she did not recognize.
Harry, who would usually be peacemaker, was still staring downward, not saying anything.
It was the first time Gretchen had really seen him since his letter from Libby. She had only found out yesterday morning, the day after the letter reading and the space station's destruction. Everything had been a tired blur of tense investigation since then, and it was just now that they were all finally able to be together.
What's a failed romance to thousands of deaths? She thought suddenly, staring at Harry's morose face.
Still, As Tom had stated, she could do nothing for them, and Harry was here, and her friend.
Gretchen stood up, stretching slowly, and finally made her way to the replicator.
She pushed buttons, and more buttons, until she was finally satisfied.
She returned to the sofa, and placed the bowl in front of Harry.
"I'm not hungry Gretch," said Harry despondently, "Is that…..wait, is that my mother's Dak Gomtang?" he said, looking up, eyes wide, "How did you get that recipe? I've never been able to replicate it correctly."
Don't think of Harry's daughter.
Gretchen tried very hard to shove Lynna out of her mind. Her giggling laugh. Her ashy face in death.
She focused instead on Harry, on the Harry who had taught her Communications, and had given her pocket credits to sing his little daughter to sleep. Who had saved her from Neelix's despair, and had never stopped believing Voyager would make it home.
She closed her eyelids for a moment, in pain, but then opened them.
"We were friends Harry," she said simply, "We've always been friends."
Harry looked at her and nodded in acceptance. He put the spoon into the bowl of chicken soup and slowly savored every bite.
There was more silence as Harry ate. Tom stared unhappily at the wall, mind clearly somewhere else.
"I suppose I ought to follow up and try to make friends with Kh'thoh," said Gretchen finally, "Maybe he's ready to talk."
"I think he's more than a little cracked," answered Tom disapprovingly.
"Aren't we all?" stated Gretchen, standing, "Besides, he can tell me about Klingon culture. I've never met someone who was actually raised in the Empire."
Tom frowned as Gretchen asked the computer where their guest was.
"Mess Hall" came the dispassionate response.
"Bye," waved Gretchen to the two men as she left, slightly ashamed that she was grateful to be out of the depressing atmosphere.
The Mess Hall was certainly livelier.
"Why is there no good wine?," screamed a voice from across the room as Gretchen entered. The voice was followed by a loud, angry crash.
"That's the strongest we have," said Neelix, speaking viciously to the angry Klingon, but standing three tables away, out of grabbing distance."And you'll just have to get used to it!" continued the Talaxian, "We can't have you smashing good food and beverage. Those replicator credits could've been used for something else. You won't get anymore if you treat them like...like trash!" huffed the cook, with great offense, "Wasting food on a stranded ship is...well there's nothing worse!" he said wagging his finger at the Klingon.
"And what are you going to do about it, little man?" yelled the Klingon, "I'll snap you in two, if I bother to even lift a finger."
"Not a smart thing to say to your cook!" retorted Neelix, standing his ground, "Besides, I'll tell the Captain on you," he said, lifting himself up proudly.
"That little hussy!" shouted Kh'thoh, "In my species we don't let women be Captains!"
"That woman survivied 6 years in the Delta Quadrant, and even won against the Borg Queen," said Gretchen, striding confidently into the Mess Hall, and staring Kh'thoh down, "Now are you going to tell me about Kahless or not?"
The big Klingon blinked at Gretchen, relaxed his posture and said gruffly, "If you can get me decent bloodwine, I'll do whatever you want,"
"Done," said Gretchen haughtily.
I hope I remember that recipe.
After several minutes of calibrating the replicator, the familiar stench filled the air.
She placed the writhing mug in from of Kh'thoh, who stared at her in surprise.
He downed the glass in one go, grimacing, "Not the best I've had little girl. But it'll do."
He blinked slowly, as if suddenly haunted by memories.
"You wanted to know about Kahless," he said slowly, "Our greatest hero. Maybe you'd call him a god."
"Kahless was strong, mercilessly strong. Bathed in blood, he was the mightiest warrior who ever lived, and until he died, he never failed a single time. All who crossed him knew despair."