Author's note: This story is based on Tamora Pierce's "Lady Knight", the fourth book of the "Protector of the Small" series. I love this series and adore the main character, Keladry, as much as Kathryn Janeway. I think their characters are very similar, though Kel is probably more stoic where Kathryn can be more impulsive.
So my mind came up with "would this work in the Star Trek universe?" years ago. I had different scenarios in mind, but a few months ago my muse decided to go more closely with the book. I hope it works, I think it works. 😊
This is an AU story but not a crossover. No knowledge of the book is necessary to understand this story. I took liberty with Federation politics and the war, making everything up for my use in this story.
As for my other unfinished stories: "On the Other End" and "Untold Tales", don't worry, they will get finished. Both are very thoroughly thought out and safely stored in my brain and notes. But my muse is like a dog with a bone with this story right now and wouldn't rest until I've completed the first chapter. I was worried about writing yet another big story before finishing the others, but then I am not on a deadline, I don't get paid and I am doing this for fun! So, I figured I could let my muse take the lead instead of me writing a chapter I am currently not in the mood for. I will probably alternate between my stories depending on my muse.
I hope you will enjoy this story as much as I currently do just thinking about it.
Dr. Paris looked over the report of the night nurse with a troubled sigh. Her young charge has had yet another nightmare. Maybe it was time to ask for a consult with a counselor. War was a vicious demon: if it didn't kill or cripple the body, it certainly crippled the soul. Even so, it was only thanks to modern medicine and her patient's strong will that she had survived her last encounter with the enemy. This new weapon of the Cardassians was certainly a monster risen straight out of the worst nightmare.
The young woman in question was much less concerned with her recurring nightmares. Yes, she did dream about the Scorpions. The devices were made of a metallic compound and were built to resemble scorpions, their head featuring glowing red eyes (which, she suspected, only served as a deterrent) and razor-sharp teeth. They had equally sharp claws and shot with phasers and with much more precision than any human could. Yet, it needed a concentrated phaser beam and some time to drill a hole where the heart would be in a living being to hurt them. This was, as far as she knew, the only way of killing them, but none of the Scorpions she had encountered had been willing to voluntarily submit to this procedure. Their tails were shaped like a morning star, a brutal clubbing device that didn't deserve the beautiful name. She couldn't deny it, the Scorpions were frightening. Still, she could pride herself on having bested three of these things, not on her own, of course; it had been a team effort. The fourth, admittedly, had almost severed her left leg, but that was mostly due to recklessness on her part. A recklessness that had saved the lives of five of her comrades, her commanding officer among them.
No, the Scorpions didn't scare her as much as their creator. It was him she saw in her nightmares, a human male with blond locks, rosy cheeks, dreamy blue eyes, and an angelic smile. She saw him playing with children, laughing with them before he would put them to sleep with a hypospray. He then placed them into the waiting Scorpions, which would somehow integrate them into their being before they came to life. She had no idea how this was done, it felt more like magic than science. But she had heard that the bones of the little ones had been found inside the things. Maybe it was similar to what the Borg did, though she didn't really care. It was an abomination!
The problem was that she had only seen this man in her dreams. Call them visions, premonitions, or just something her subconscious had cooked up. Still, she was sure this man existed. She was not privy to any intelligence reports, though she was sure she would have heard if he had been found. Would it be her fate to find him? The thought made her itch to leave her hospital bed, get on board the next starship, and, sooner rather than later, help bring this man to justice.
"Lieutenant Janeway." The call made her jump slightly and she jostled her bad leg in the process. A grimace of pain flickered over her face before she could smooth her features into a polite smile.
"Apologies, Admiral, my mind was elsewhere." She blushed slightly having been caught daydreaming.
"No apologies needed, Lieutenant." Vice Admiral Paris looked at her fondly as he sat down in the visitor's chair. Then his gaze changed to concern. "How are you really, Katie?"
"I am fine, Sir." She was already adept at giving the standard answer for commanding officers with a stoic face.
The admiral sighed and shook his head at her. "I've brought you something," he said as he pushed a small box into her hands. She looked at him questioningly. He smiled at her. "You'll have to open it."
She did as she was told and silently regarded the content of the box for a second or two before she closed it again.
"It is the Starfleet Medal of Commendation," Paris told her helpfully.
"I don't want it," she replied quietly and handed it back to him.
"The others of your unit received it as well, but they were a bit more enthusiastic about it." The admiral was slightly disappointed in her reaction. This was supposed to be the good news of his messages.
"So that's what Starfleet does these days? Handing out nice decorations to raise morale?"
Paris looked a bit sheepish at her accusation, then turned to her with a serious expression. "Why there may be some truth to it, you nevertheless deserve it. You and your crew, but especially you."
"I've lost three good people under my command. What's so heroic about that?" she asked bitterly.
"Kathryn, first of all, they technically weren't under your command."
"Oh, but they were as soon as I assumed command," Kathryn interjected.
"All right," he conceded. "But from all the reports I read, including yours, there is nothing you could have done to rescue them. On the contrary, everyone praises your quick and innovative thinking which saved 150 civilian lives as well as that of the rest of your unit. And you risked your life doing so."
Admiral Paris looked at her with understanding. "I know it hurts. And it will always hurt to lose people you feel responsible for. When it stops hurting you, it will be you that are lost." He paused to let that sink in before he put the small box on top of her nightstand and handed her another.
"Maybe you will like this better?"
She opened the second box and a small smile stole onto her lips. Her mentor smiled back. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander!" He patted her shoulder a bit awkwardly. "I am sorry that we couldn't have an official ceremony. But you know.." he trailed off.
She nodded. The war didn't wait for festivities.
"Sir, if I may, what happened to the colony? Were they attacked again?" Kathryn inquired.
Owen Paris grew thoughtful and played with a PADD in his hand. "No. They are being relocated. The village has been evacuated. With our forces stretched thin in this war we don't have the resources to help every single little colony with technology or manpower. Unfortunately, everyone has to make sacrifices."
"That's unfair. They never asked for this war."
"Neither did we. And since when is life fair?" he answered grimly.
"Hm." The newly promoted lieutenant commander looked around the room until her eyes settled on the PADD the admiral was still fiddling with. "What's this?"
Paris heaved a sigh. "These are your orders."
"You do not agree with them?" she asked curiously.
"Oh, I do agree. I just fear that you won't."
She raised her eyebrows. "Will I be more likely to accept them if you wait a little bit longer?"
The admiral chortled. "Probably not. Here you go." He handed the PADD to her, indicating her to read.
Soon enough a frown appeared on her face that deepened the further she read. "Surely this must be a mistake. This can't be right," she said tonelessly. "I hardly have any command experience! I only switched to the command track three years ago, with just two semesters of actual training before we were thrown out there." Her hand vaguely pointed towards the window as though the Federation-Cardassian border was just beyond the grounds of Starfleet Academy.
"Sometimes, real life isn't the worst teacher," he told her with a sad smile. "Kathryn, you successfully took command once both of your commanding officers were incapacitated. You stayed level-headed even in the face of a new, unpredictable weapon. I've always told you that you are command material and you have not disappointed my expectations so far."
"But commanding a refugee camp? I have no idea where to even start!" she exclaimed.
"There are more detailed orders on the following pages," Paris assured her.
Kathryn could just barely refrain from rolling her eyes. Of course, she knew that. But commanding a camp this large, 750 to 1000 civilians and probably even more, not to mention her officers and soldiers, that was a galaxy-class starship! A Starfleet crew at least knew discipline and how to follow orders, the civilians wouldn't. The sheer mountain of that task was overwhelming. And it wasn't at all what she wanted! She wanted to serve as an officer on a ship, gain experience, and help hunt down the true monster, the man whose creation left even Starfleet officers terrified.
"Owen, you just handed me a medal, you assured me that my contributions made a difference and you want me to nursemaid civilians on some planet somewhere behind the border? I want to make a difference, not being kept safe! Is this you fulfilling a promise to my late father, or do you want to appease my mother? This won't do!" Oh, how she would have loved to jump up and pace the room! She cursed her slowly healing leg.
"You know that wasn't my idea," he told her gravely. "But I do agree with this decision. You are the perfect candidate. With that scientific mind of yours, you see the bigger picture. You relate to people and know instinctively what is needed. You won't dismiss the refugees' needs, you won't order them about as others might do. We trust that you will treat them with the dignity they deserve.
And if it is action you want, I assure you, you will see more than you'd like. The border is shifting and not in our favor. We are losing ground daily."
"I don't want action. I am not a soldier." Kathryn deflated a bit. "I just want to help to end this war," she whispered. "I want to be back out there to observe stellar phenomena, to seek out new worlds, making first contact…" She blinked a few times. The admiral looked for a moment as if he wanted to hug her, but she could keep her tears at bay and he leaned back.
"Have you finished?"
"Not for a long shot! You know, I can't do this, Owen!"
"That's not the question. The question is, will you do it anyway?"
Kathryn rubbed a weary hand over her eyes. "You know me better than that," she rasped.
He looked quite relieved. "That I do. But you scared me there for a minute, young Padawan."
She looked at him, confused. "What?"
Admiral Paris shook his head. "Just something Tom used to say."
"You miss him, don't you?" she asked kindly.
"I miss him very much," he agreed. "And I hate the way we parted."
"Why don't you contact him?"
"No contact allowed during the war. I don't even know where he is stationed. Security reasons." He smiled tightly at her.
Kathryn put a hand on his arm and locked her eyes with him. "You will get to see him again."
"What would I do without you, Katie? Your father would be proud."
"I hope so, Sir." She couldn't quite hide a yawn.
"I should let you rest. Report to the USS Bonestell in five days–"
"I hope I misheard? Lieutenant Janeway isn't going anywhere in five days, except home!" A new voice interrupted his instructions.
"Julia!" Owen Paris exclaimed in surprise. He clearly had hoped not to run into his wife. "That's Lieutenant Commander Janeway," he stressed as if that would make a difference.
Dr. Paris was unimpressed. "Be this as it may, have you not read my recommendations? Commander Janeway will stay here at Starfleet Medical for two or three more days, then she will go home to rest for at least four weeks. She needs rehab for her leg and not be put on a starship again, not this soon."
It was almost comical the way the admiral and the commander looked at each other. Four weeks was unacceptable!
"Julia, please, we need her," her husband pleaded.
Dr. Paris tightened her eyes. "Kathryn is not a piece of equipment you can put just back after you have repaired it with a mere patch-up work."
"Of course not! But she is one of our brightest, most promising officers. She will make a difference in this war."
"Not to mention that I will be tucked away quite cozily in a refugee camp with ample time to rest," Kathryn grumbled.
Julia looked from one to the other. "Is that so?"
When both nodded, she sighed. "Very well. She will stay here for two more days and then rest at home for another week. And this is not a recommendation."
Admiral Paris got up to kiss his wife on the cheek. "Thank you, dear. It is for the best."
"I truly hope so. Now scat. Kathryn needs to rest."
"Get well soon, Kathryn. And thank you. For everything."
"Just doing my duty, Sir." She yawned again.
Oh, way beyond that, he was sure.