A BEGINNING, A MIDDLE, AND A PROPER END
The Journey (con'd)
[one] [two] [three] [five] [six]
"Timeless"
JANEWAY: What about you, Chakotay? What do you think about my decision?
CHAKOTAY: I've analyzed Harry's flight plan. The theory is sound. But there are just too many variables. If something goes wrong in that slipstream--
JANEWAY: . . . I know it's a risk. Probably our biggest one yet. But I'm willing to take it. Are you with me?
CHAKOTAY: Always.
...
KIM: The corrections I sent you were wrong. If you had used them Voyager would have been heavily damaged, maybe even destroyed. What I can't figure out is who sent the other phase corrections to Seven of Nine.
JANEWAY: It looks like we've got a guardian angel.
KIM: Oh, I wish I could believe that.
JANEWAY: Believe it. His name is Harry Kim.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Think of it, Chakotay--another ten years lopped off our total!" Janeway gestured grandly toward the changed pattern of stars out her ready room window; Seven of Nine was working overtime in Astrometrics to chart the next sector they would traverse.
"Only about fifty-three more to go," Chakotay said with a grin. "When we get home we won't be more than a hundred years old."
"With a good twenty years left to enjoy being there. And I intend to be very spry. Promise you'll take me for a spin along the Grand Canyon when we're a hundred and ten."
"It's a date!" At her invitation he pulled up a chair. "How did Harry take the news?"
"Poor Harry. He's stunned--first by the magnitude of his own error, and second by the identity of our savior."
"I'm stunned, too. We came so close to disaster."
It was the nearest he had ever come to saying I told you so. "What I'm trying to figure out is--who was with him?"
"It's definitely the Doctor's voice on the tape, so we know Harry must have found the ship. And if the Doctor was online, other systems probably were as well. He wouldn't necessarily have needed anyone else."
"A grave ship," she whispered, her imagination painting grim, sad pictures, "like the Arizona, or the Dranlia still in orbit around the ruins of Antipaxis Three." She leveled her gaze at him. "But you wouldn't have been on it. You were with Harry in the Flyer. That's where he was when he sent that message to himself, and she wasn't on autopilot--you can see the indicators when you magnify the image." Her voice was resonant with meaning.
A tremor seemed to go through him. He sank back, his jaw going slack. "Do you know what you're implying?"
"Yes."
"But--I wouldn't do that--I would never do that!"
"You might--if you blamed yourself for not objecting more strenuously." His head moved slowly back and forth. "Tell me who else it could have been. It would have to be someone who had the same emotional stake Harry did, who wanted to wipe out fifteen years of grief and guilt." She leaned forward for emphasis. "Someone who was willing to break the rules."
"No! I can't believe I would deliberately change history! That I would disregard billions of lives and the achievements of a civilization to save a hundred and fifty people, no matter how much they meant to me--" Ashen with horror, he sprang up from the chair and began to pace. "But--I have to admit you make a good case--"
Had his conscience perished with his ship? Had he been so fatally unable to cope with survivor guilt, to make a life for himself after tragedy? Had his sense of responsibility for this ship and crew become as all-consuming as his captain's? Did he no longer know when to step back?
"You don't seem to have a problem with this," he said to her, his eyes and voice begging her to contradict him.
Watching his reaction, she half-regretted making him confront a probability he had clearly not considered; but the damage was already done. "What's the point? I'm alive instead of dead, and so are my crew. It's hard to be objective. And besides--it isn't going to happen now."
"You can't rationalize it away with temporal double-talk--"
"I'm not trying to. I simply mean that you will not now become the man who probably aided Harry. You can't reproach yourself for something you will never, God willing, have reason to do."
His expression was bleak. "Yes, I can." His stride was unsteady as he left the room.
********************
"Infinite Regress"
JANEWAY: . . . I'm starting to wonder if my first officer was right all along.
CHAKOTAY: About what?
JANEWAY: You always said that bringing Seven into the fold might be impossible.
CHAKOTAY: 'You can take the Borg out of the collective, but--' I don't believe that--not any more. I didn't think she'd last a day, much less a year. I'd say you've proven me wrong.
********************
"Counterpoint"
JANEWAY: . . . I was planning on asking you to stay with us once we got through the wormhole. I wouldn't mind having someone around who appreciates a bit of Tchaikovsky now and then.
...
KASHYK: Well played, Captain. It seems I never did earn your trust.
JANEWAY: . . . I never lied to you. My offer to take you with us was genuine, and it would still stand if you'd kept your part of the bargain.
KASHYK: For what it's worth, you made a tempting offer. . . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You don't like him," she'd said, and he'd replied, "No, I don't. But I can be objective about him. I'm just hoping you can, too." Her eyes sparked blue fire. "Watch me," she'd said, and he had, watched her as she'd played the Devore inspector as skillfully as he had learned to play the con men with whom he'd bargained for supplies and repair parts for the Maquis.
Their reciprocal attraction had been obvious from the start--Kashyk falling first, excited by her bold cleverness, her disdain, then Kathryn, responding to his frank interest and then to his appeal to her compassion. She'd been pleased when Kashyk wanted asylum, pleased that he appeared to embrace her values, pleased that he wanted her.
"I don't trust him," he'd said, and she'd shot back, "Neither do I--not yet. But--I want to." The words were four sharp hammer blows to his heart.
Was it jealousy? Probably--a little. He had never before seen her look this way at a man, not with merely casual aesthetic or even sexual appreciation but with dry-mouthed, heart-racing desire--a look she had never directed at him. Of course he had always been very much aware of Mark, but Mark had possessed the undeniable virtue of being on the other side of the galaxy. Mark was not in the briefing room, the ready room, on the bridge, exchanging glances with her that raised the blood pressure of everyone in the room. But though he, too, looked away when those glances set the air afire, he couldn't really fear losing what he had never known; what he feared losing was what he had. If she were to take a lover, she would not be so dependent on a friend, and he would be the one who was alone.
"What would you think," she'd asked, "of my asking Kashyk to stay aboard for a while?" He'd turned to ice inside, but: "It's your decision," he'd said. She'd given him a look full of sympathy and somehow he'd managed a smile. Whatever makes you happy, Kathryn--but this time we'll remember.
He would willingly accept onto the ship any man who could give her that part of life, of living, from which she was cut off. Kashyk, however, was not such a man. Kashyk was a snake, he was sure of it, and he could only hope that the snake revealed his fangs before she suffered the same humiliation he had suffered after his encounter with Riley Frazier, of enjoying physical and emotional release at too high a price in self-esteem. In the end she'd been spared humiliation, but her doubt had not been quite armor enough, and when the fangs pierced her heart he hurt for her and wished he could have been wrong.
But she had rallied quickly, as he had known she would. Bittersweet her triumph might be, but it was triumph nonetheless; she reclaimed her chair while it was still warm from Kashyk's body, and did not relinquish it until his ship was long out of range. When at last she sought the haven of her ready room he made sure not to disturb her, but he sent her a message when the shift reports were ready, and at length she called him in to discuss them.
"Thanks for the breathing room," she said, not looking at him.
"Anytime."
She smiled faintly in the direction of the padd in her hand. "He was a supercilious bastard, wasn't he?"
"You won't get any argument from me." He was pleased to note that her eyes were clear, her nose not the least bit red; she hadn't wasted any tears. "Do me a favor?"
At last she looked up. "What?"
"Next time, set it up so I get to punch the supercilious bastard's lights out."
She was clearly touched by this proof of his devotion--and perhaps a little envious that his code of conduct was less rigid than her own. "The Maquis way does offer its satisfactions, doesn't it?"
"Now and then," he admitted with a smile. "How about dinner later?"
She had to think about it, and he wondered if he had misjudged how far she had bounced back, if she might shut him out as she sometimes did when his solicitude only made a worry or an ache more keen. Finally, however, she said quite firmly, "I'd love to." Her expression clouded. "But no classical music."
"Actually I was thinking of Andorian warrior drums." She laughed, with delight but also with gratitude, and the last of the ice inside him melted away. "My quarters, 1900. Don't be late."
She was seated, but her spine and shoulders snapped to attention. "Aye-aye, sir."
And he left the ready room with a spring in his step, feeling a certain triumph of his own.
********************
"Bride of Chaotica!"
JANEWAY: Let me get this straight. Transdimensional aliens have mistaken your Captain Proton simulation for reality.
PARIS: Yes, ma'am.
JANEWAY: And now an armed conflict has broken out between these aliens and Chaotica's holographic army.
PARIS: Yes, ma'am. His army of evil. . . . I'm suggesting that we help the aliens to defeat Chaotica. . . . The destructo beam on my rocket ship can disable [Chaotica's] death ray but only if someone gets inside the Fortress of Doom and can shut down the lightning shield.
CHAKOTAY: And--who's supposed to do that?
PARIS: Arachnia, Queen of the Spider People. . . . [Chaotica's] in love with her. . . . She's the only one that he trusts, the only one who can get close enough. . . . Somebody is gonna have to take on her character.
JANEWAY: Who'd you have in mind? --Oh, no--!
PARIS: It's the role of a lifetime!
TUVOK: Captain, need I remind you that we have exhausted all other possibilities of escaping this layer of subspace?
CHAKOTAY: 'Til we can eliminate those distortions, we're trapped.
SEVEN: Think of it as Starfleet's first encounter with Planet X.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I saw that look," Janeway said sotto voce as Chakotay passed by her on his way to the bridge.
He let the others go on ahead to get started on their preparations. "What look?"
"That look between you and Seven. You're teaching her to smirk."
"No, I'm not."
"I know a smirk when I see one. That was a definite smirk."
"If it was, she learned it from Tom. I never smirk."
"Sure, and I've got some swampland on Vulcan I'll sell you cheap. --I still think Seven would make a better Arachnia."
"No way. She isn't devious enough to act a part. Or regal enough," he added smoothly when she glared at him, and she deigned to be mollified. "You know, I'd sure like a front-row seat for this. Don't you think this is one away mission the captain and first officer really should go on together?"
She played along, knowing very well that he wouldn't consider abandoning the bridge during a crisis. "You aren't getting anywhere near the holodeck during this ludicrous adventure. Besides, who would you play? Harry's already Captain Proton's sidekick. Wait--I know-- I'll take the bridge and you can play Arachnia!"
He was prevented from making a suitable retort by Paris's call telling Janeway he was ready to brief her; she acknowledged and they headed for the door. "Well," she said, "stay tuned for the next thrilling chapter--"
"I'll have Neelix send up some popcorn--"
As soon as the turbolift doors closed behind her he placed a call to Paris. "Tom, can you route visual and audio of Chaotica's--um, lair--to my bridge monitor?"
"No problem, but--I can't help wondering if that's such a good idea--?"
Chakotay grinned. "If you think I'm going to miss this, you're crazy. But don't tell the captain--that's an order."
"Understood," Paris replied, in a tone that clearly said, and boy, do I want to be there when she finds out!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"ARACHNIA": Deactivate the shield--now.
CHAOTICA: Such passion, such strength-- Together we could conquer the universe! End this madness--and you may yet live to be my bride.
"ARACHNIA": . . . I don't know how to tell you this-- [shoots Chaotica] --but the wedding's off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm pleased to report," Chakotay said when he arrived at Janeway's quarters for dinner, "that all the lavs are working properly and--" his eyes twinkled "--that the replicators are back online."
Janeway made a beeline for hers and placed the expected order. "Ahhhh. That's the first drinkable cup of coffee I've had in three days. And you almost had stale popcorn for dinner. --What's that?" He had followed her over to the wall and now held a data chip in front of her nose.
"One of the original Captain Proton movie serials. I downloaded it from the database for our evening's entertainment."
After dinner they sat next to each other before her terminal, elbows propped on the table, chins propped on their hands, casting dubious glances at each other in response to the earnest silliness on the screen. Somewhere in the middle of chapter six Janeway finally turned it off and said, her voice half-muffled by her palm, "I think Tom has actually improved on his source material."
"I'd have to agree--especially in the casting. You were a much more convincing Arachnia than that actress--you really lived the part. And you look a lot better in the lamé, webbed collar, and lethal fingernails."
Her reaction was everything he had hoped for. Her jaw had dropped nearly to her knees, and she was clearly torn between strangling him and dissolving in hysterics. "You saw it??? Augh!"
"Off and on," he replied cheerfully. "I kept switching back and forth between bridge readouts and the holodeck. My favorite part was when you fondled Chaotica's throne."
"I did not fondle the throne."
"Yes, you did. Now you'll probably change the design of the captain's chair, and make us all address you as 'Your Majesty.'"
"You do realize that you are dangerously close to getting yourself put on report."
"I'll suffer it gladly, as long as you tell me what happened after Chaotica trapped you in the confinement rings and started firing at Proton. I couldn't watch any more after we were pulled deeper into subspace, and the suspense is killing me."
"It isn't hard to understand why people kept coming back week after week, is it? Well," she said, in her best sultry, come-hither Arachnia voice, "that's when I uncorked my pheromones."
"I--beg your pardon--?" He had taken a bite of popcorn, and she couldn't tell if he was blushing or just asphyxiating.
"My pheromones. You know--the little vial I took from the stand next to the throne." He shook his head, lost, and she threw up her hands. "After all that, you missed the pheromones?"
"I was working, you know. The monitor probably beeped at me."
"That's no excuse. Well anyway, I uncorked 'em. Guaranteed to turn Chaotica into a love slave. Unfortunately I didn't get Chaotica, I got the henchman instead--but I turned the tables on them and emerged victorious. Captain Proton destroyed the death ray, the photonic aliens stopped their distortions, and Voyager was freed from subspace. My only lingering dilemma is: how do I enter this into my log?"
"As colorfully as possible. And don't forget to mention the pheromones."
"You can help me compose the entry. --You know, Chakotay," she added silkily, slipping back into character, "since my performance was such a success, Tom might ask me back for an encore--and it occurs to me that there's probably an opening for Arachnia's sidekick--"
********************
"The Disease"
SEVEN OF NINE: . . . I assumed that romantic love was a human weakness. But clearly it can also be a source of strength. Perhaps my analogy was flawed. Love is not a disease.
********************
"Equinox"
JANEWAY: . . . We've run into our share of bad guys--Ransom's no different.
CHAKOTAY: Yes he is. You said it yourself--he's human. I don't blame you for being angry. But you can't compromise the safety of this ship to satisfy some personal vendetta.
JANEWAY: . . . You're right, I am angry. I'm damned angry. He's a Starfleet captain, and he's decided to abandon everything this uniform stands for. He's out there right now-- torturing and murdering innocent life forms just to get home a little quicker. I'm not going to stand for it. I'm going to hunt him down no matter how long it takes, no matter what the cost. If you want to call that a vendetta, go right ahead.
...
JANEWAY: All right. We're going to try it your way. But I want to make one thing clear--
CHAKOTAY: Our first priority is to get Ransom. If there's one thing you've made clear it's that.
JANEWAY: We've had our disagreements, Chakotay. But you've never openly opposed me.
CHAKOTAY: You almost killed that man today!
JANEWAY: It was a calculated risk and I took it.
CHAKOTAY: It was a bad call.
JANEWAY: I'll note your objection in my log--
CHAKOTAY: I don't give a damn about your log! This isn't about rules and regulations--it's about right and wrong. And I'm warning you--I won't let you cross that line again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
First Officer's Log, Stardate 52917.4:
Captain Janeway has relieved me of duty and confined me to quarters. It is my unpleasant duty now to enter into this log my interpretation of the events preceding her action.
. . . It was when I threatened further open opposition that the captain confined me to quarters.
It's true that Captain Ransom and his crew are guilty of a heinous crime, but in my view, Captain Janeway violated some of the same ethical principles in her handling of Crewman Lessing. The captain is badly disturbed by events aboard Equinox. She put her faith in Ransom, and he betrayed her. She made assumptions about him--assumptions that should have been safe, given his training and reputation--that were proven horribly wrong. But though I do sympathize with her anger and abhorrence, she's let personal feelings override her professional judgment to a degree I simply can't condone. I know how it feels to be betrayed by someone you trust, and to want to bring a criminal to justice. But this isn't justice, it's vengeance.
. . . Equinox is attacking. The captain hasn't locked me out of bridge systems, so I'm able to monitor developments. I couldn't have acted any differently than I did, but if I'd managed to confront her without enraging her I'd be on the bridge right now, and maybe I'd be able to reach her, to influence her. But let me state for the record that she still seems to be following my recommendations--which were in fact her own before she became obsessed with punishing Ransom--so I don't see that at this point I have any grounds for attempting to remove her.
. . . It's over. Equinox is destroyed, and Ransom with her. I can't say that I'm consumed with regret.
Addendum: Captain Janeway has ordered me to return to duty. No elaboration--but I'm not sure I want to hear any just now. This is the most difficult log entry I've ever had to make. At least I can be fairly certain that, unless we meet up with another genocidal Starfleet captain, I won't ever have to make another one like it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JANEWAY: . . . You know--you may have had good reason to stage a little mutiny of your own.
CHAKOTAY: The thought had occurred to me. But that would have been crossing the line.
JANEWAY: [sees Voyager's commission plate amid debris] Will you look at that. All these years, all these battles. This thing's never fallen down before.
CHAKOTAY: Let's put it back up where it belongs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Addendum: I've shown this log entry to Captain Janeway. Someday this incident will be reviewed by Starfleet Command, and if we're still alive to face questioning, I want her to know how my statement reads. She expressed appreciation for my candor and said that my account seems fair. I believe she's almost as disturbed by her own behavior as by Ransom's, which is as clear an indication as I could ask for that her own ideals and principles are once again intact. I don't think she'll lose sight of them again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A-koo-chee-moya. We are far from the sacred places of our grandfathers. We are far from the bones of our people. But perhaps there is a powerful being who will hear us, who will help two troubled people find their way back to a friendship that has been shaken to its core. Help us to bridge the painful distance between us, to walk the same path once again. We made a start today, as together we restored the commission plate of this brave vessel to its proper place. I ask you to help us, not only for ourselves but for the crew we are sworn to protect, to continue the healing we've begun. A-koo-chee-moya."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 52931.7:
It's been nearly two weeks since the destruction of the Equinox. I needed some distance, some perspective, on those events before I could brave the self-examination required by Starfleet tradition if not by actual regulation. Our five new crewmembers seem to be settling in--to the extent that they can. Their welcome hasn't been very warm, but they don't expect it to be. They do their work and keep to themselves, and that's probably the best they can hope for right now. It might be the best they can ever hope for. They'll face general court-martial when we get home, and they'll probably be convicted, though the circumstances might keep the sentence to dishonorable discharge rather than a prison term. I can't feel as positive or optimistic about them as I did about the Maquis. I don't know if I can ever really accept them, primarily because of what they did but also partly because they remind me of my own behavior. Noah Lessing might have died because of me. Do I really have the right to judge them?
I crossed another line, too, the one between treating my staff like Starfleet officers and treating them like minions expected to carry out a dictator's every whim. Tuvok says it isn't possible for him to judge me because he can't know whether I would have carried out my threat to sacrifice Ransom and his crew in order to save my own. I suppose technically I can't know either, but--I know I meant it when I said it. I also know Tuvok well enough to sense that, despite his splitting of logical hairs, he's disappointed in me. At least a Vulcan will quickly forgive, because it's illogical to hold a grudge when there is true repentance. But though Chakotay forgives easily enough, it's going to take a while for me to earn back his trust. I can't blame him. In his eyes this is the second time I've insulted him professionally, and with us the professional and the personal are inextricable. He's keeping his distance these days. We work together well enough, if a little tentatively, but we haven't shared a meal or a game of pool, and we don't indulge in small talk on the bridge unless I start it. He showed me his log entries about Equinox, about me. It's rare to see oneself through another's eyes. It was almost like reading about someone else. I knew I could be single-minded, but he was describing someone out of control. I'll have to watch myself. I'm getting too used to making my own decisions out here, too used to playing God--
Computer--pause recording.
Chakotay just brought me some reports. He teased me about my coffee consumption and damn near made me cry. I think he surprised himself as much as he surprised me, but he didn't seem to regret it. Maybe the worst is over. I guess there was something besides my pact with the devil that could seriously threaten our partnership: my self-appointed role as avenging angel. I've been reminded that there's a reason vengeance is left to the angels--in pursuing it they don't have to worry about losing sight of what it means to be human.
********************
"The Voyager Conspiracy"
JANEWAY: The data buffer's been activated.
CHAKOTAY: I wanted to make sure it wasn't malfunctioning.
JANEWAY: Well, you should be careful. Somebody might think you were trying to delete a few files.
CHAKOTAY: Why would they think that?
JANEWAY: Some of those files could contain sensitive information.
CHAKOTAY: If that's true, somebody might think you were trying to do the same thing.
JANEWAY: That catapult out there--it's a powerful piece of technology. If the Maquis ever had access to something like it, they might have been successful.
CHAKOTAY: And if we had, your mission to the Delta Quadrant never would have gotten off the drawing board.
JANEWAY: What are you talking about?
CHAKOTAY: The mission you've been on for the last five years.
JANEWAY: My only 'mission' is trying to get Voyager home.
CHAKOTAY: Seven showed me the sensor records. I saw the tractor beam.
JANEWAY: She showed me the same thing--but she implicated you in some kind of Maquis plot.
CHAKOTAY: Same evidence--two different theories.
JANEWAY: . . . I'm glad we got that settled. . . . Chakotay, let's keep this one out of our logs, hunh?
CHAKOTAY: Gladly.
...
JANEWAY: I heard the strangest rumor today. Apparently the captain and first officer almost came to blows.
CHAKOTAY: Mutiny?
JANEWAY: First officer walked the plank. So I heard.
CHAKOTAY: I don't believe a word of it.
JANEWAY: Me neither.
CHAKOTAY: Seven was malfunctioning. We don't have that excuse.
JANEWAY: You're right. We've been through too much to stop trusting each other.
CHAKOTAY: You didn't poison the coffee, did you?
JANEWAY: Not any more than I usually do--
********************
"Fair Haven"
CHAKOTAY: [reading title of book] Hills Most Green, Hearts Unseen.
JANEWAY: Yes--Jane Eldon. Catching up on a little reading.
CHAKOTAY: Those hills and hearts wouldn't happen to be in Ireland?
JANEWAY: You can wipe that smirk off your face--it's not what you're thinking.
CHAKOTAY: I wasn't thinking anything--but now that you mention it--
JANEWAY: I have an interest in Irish culture.
CHAKOTAY: It's understandable. They've produced great writers for hundreds of years--not to mention great bartenders.
JANEWAY: He's a hologram.
CHAKOTAY: I couldn't help but notice--he seemed a little taller than the last time I saw him.
JANEWAY: Yes, I made a few modifications.
CHAKOTAY: In the interest of Irish culture.
JANEWAY: Exactly.
CHAKOTAY: You seemed embarrassed when I ran into you. There was no reason to be. It was nice to see you having a little fun.
JANEWAY: He is rather charming, isn't he? Too bad he's made of photons and force fields.
CHAKOTAY: I'd never let that stand in my way.
...
DOCTOR: I understand your trepidation. But you're the captain. You can't have a relationship with a member of your crew--they're all your subordinates. . . . Voyager could be in the Delta Quadrant for a very long time. A hologram may be the only logical alternative.
JANEWAY: He's not real.
DOCTOR: He's as real as I am. Photons and force fields or flesh and blood--it's all the same, as long as your feelings are real. . . .
JANEWAY: Maybe I just needed to be sure--he'd love me back.
DOCTOR: But isn't that the risk you always take, hologram or not? All I know is, Michael Sullivan was up in that tree, shouting your name.
********************
"Muse"
"JANEWAY": Chakotay, why must I be denied what every other female officer on this ship can have? . . . The privilege of your touch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain and first officer entered the mess hall to find Torres, Paris, and Kim snickering over their dinner like twelve-year-olds in the school repliteria.
"Lieutenant," Janeway said, as they joined the group after a stop at the coffee pot, "we've just been reading your report--it's fascinating. Congratulations on how well you applied and, shall we say, adapted the Prime Directive. Some might quibble about your decision to beam out in front of an audience, but I understand why you did it, and I'd say that overall you suited your actions very nicely to the natives' culture and mythos. Well done." Torres blushed with pride, while Paris beamed to hear her so highly praised. "I'd like to have met this Kelis the Poet myself."
"He's really quite a guy."
"He definitely has a way with words. 'Shining Voyager, far from home'-- Very stirring."
"I'm partial to 'Headstrong B'Elanna Torres' myself," Chakotay put in.
"Ha ha."
And then Janeway added, "I'm curious, though-- You said you helped Kelis modify his interpretations of the Voyager characters. How did his original version go?"
"Um--" Torres looked to Paris and Kim, but their attention was suddenly fixed on their dinner. "Oh, he just had some of the roles and relationships wrong. 'Steady-armed Paris' had the hots for 'Seven of Nine,' for instance." Paris demonstrated his best Doctor Chaotica leer. "And Seven was the Borg Queen, if you can imagine."
Janeway blanched. "Actually, I can. It's an alarming thought." She leaned forward eagerly. "Who else?"
"Well, um--'Young Harry Kim' was bestowing favors on both the Delaney sisters."
Chakotay's eyebrows arched slyly. "Keeping secrets from us, Mr. Kim?"
"Wouldn't you like to know--sir." Paris chortled at Kim's broad wink.
"This is priceless!" Janeway exclaimed with delight. "Go on-- What about Chakotay and me?"
Torres froze. "Um--"
Captain and first officer traded a suspicious glance. "We were in your play, weren't we, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, ma'am--but--" She looked rather wildly at Paris and Kim.
Paris pushed back his chair. "You know, while you guys talk, I think I'm going to get seconds of this leola root stew. Neelix has outdone himself this time."
"Yeah, me too. Be right back--" Kim hastened away in his wake. The look Torres directed at their backs was murderous.
"Come on, B'Elanna, spill it," Chakotay demanded, not quite managing to keep a straight face. "That's an order."
Torres said desperately, "Trust me, Captain, you really, really don't want to know."
"Oh, but I really, really do. I grow more intrigued with your every protest. In fact I'm beginning to be concerned that your report is incomplete--that you've left out information vital to the security of this ship."
Realizing at last that she was being had, Torres fell back in her chair with a relieved grin. "Well, let's just say that Kelis liked to pair his characters off. All his characters."
Janeway gaped at Chakotay in mock astonishment. "My goodness--ship's scuttlebutt seems to be accurate this time. Well, thank you, Lieutenant, for clearing that up. I don't think we'll need to amend your report after all."
"Thanks, Captain. And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go do grievous bodily harm to two members of your crew." Paris and Kim had vanished from the mess hall.
"Understood. I'll give the Doctor a heads-up." When Torres had gone, the captain looked sideways at her first officer. "Bet that version would have been a smash hit."
The first officer looked sideways at his captain. "I know I would have been there on opening night."
She laughed, and stood to stretch. "Well, since torturing a crew member was the last item on my list of 'things to do today,' I think I'll turn in early for a change. Good-night, Commander."
"Good-night, Captain." Her hand brushed across his shoulders as she passed behind him.
He stayed for some minutes, absently sipping his coffee while the stars whipped by, and letting his mind wander where it shouldn't. It still did sometimes, even after the emotional ups and downs of the past couple of years, but with poignant resignation now rather than longing. We've all let go of something out here.
"Is anything wrong, Commander?" Neelix stood over him attentively, ready to sit down and chat, or withdraw, as his customer wished. "You look a little blue--though not quite as blue as a Bolian, I'm happy to say." He chuckled at his own witticism.
"Just tired, I guess. It's been a long day." Chakotay drained his mug and set it in the recycler. "Good-night, Neelix. See you in the morning."
********************
"Fury"
YOUNG KES: [holo-recording] If you're watching me now, you've come back to take revenge on the people who cared about you. . . .
JANEWAY: . . . You forced me to kill you, Kes. . . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
". . . And so I've informed our Kes of everything that has transpired here today and asked her to record a message to her future self, in the hope of preventing this tragedy." The face of the Janeway on the screen took on a faraway expression. "I suppose only time will tell if we've been successful."
The screen went blank, and Chakotay, looking grim, turned it back toward the Janeway sitting behind her desk. "Wow."
She restored the encryption for the three-year-old log entry, at the same time adding Chakotay's name and clearance code to hers and Tuvok's in the access file. "I don't know why she forgot she'd recorded that message, but she's obviously greatly disturbed by whatever it is she's been through. She was without guidance, without training-- But she seemed so sure when she left us that she was doing what was right for her. What could have happened to her? I wish I'd been able to persuade her to stay a while and try to explain, but-- You know, she didn't even seem glad to see Neelix, and she didn't ask about the Doctor at all." She blinked back tears of uncertainty and grief. "Well--I just wanted you to know what was going on."
"I appreciate that." He lifted an eyebrow in the mildest of challenges. "You and Tuvok kept this secret for a lot longer than six weeks."
She propped her chin on her hand and asked in a tone half-curious, half-teasing, "Are you mad?"
He smiled. "Not this time. I understand your decision to keep knowledge of this incident to as few people as possible. But--" The smile broadened to tease a little back. "--thanks for asking."
********************
"Life Line"
CHAKOTAY: Problem?
JANEWAY: I haven't decided. I just listened to a communique from Admiral Hayes. . . .
HAYES: [on screen] When you respond to this message, please let us know . . . the status of your crew, the Maquis . . .
CHAKOTAY: Do you find that surprising?
JANEWAY: I don't think of you or B'Elanna or the others as "Maquis." I think of you as part of my crew.
CHAKOTAY: You may have forgotten, but we haven't. --You heard the admiral--it'll be years before we have to deal with those issues. Let's worry about it then.
********************
"Unimatrix Zero"
JANEWAY: The Collective's found a way to infiltrate Unimatrix Zero. It won't be long before they learn enough to destroy it from the inside out. I plan to stop them. . . . Chakotay--we've had our disagreements, and there have been times when I've chosen to proceed without your support. But this can't be one of those times. I won't do this without my first officer.
CHAKOTAY: The way I see it, risking the safety of Voyager is a small price to pay. If we help these people, this could be the turning point in our battle against the Borg.
JANEWAY: I'm glad we agree, because I almost talked myself out of it.
CHAKOTAY: Somehow I don't think you were ever in danger of doing that.
...
CHAKOTAY: Remember when I said I didn't have any objections?
JANEWAY: Can't this wait until I get back?
CHAKOTAY: I realize I'm not going to talk you out of this, but I'll be damned if you're going in there alone.
JANEWAY: We've got a lot of work to do, Commander.
CHAKOTAY: You said you wanted my support. Then take Tuvok and B'Elanna with you.
JANEWAY: And if I don't?
CHAKOTAY: I may only be first officer, but I still pull a few strings around here. The Doctor could be persuaded to question your medical fitness.
JANEWAY: I was hoping for your unconditional support.
CHAKOTAY: This is the best I can do.
JANEWAY: Tell them to pack light.
...
JANEWAY: . . . Guess I'd better be going, hunh?
CHAKOTAY: Anything you'd like done around here while you're gone? Gravity plating recalibrated--carpets cleaned--?
JANEWAY: [she holds out her hand, he takes it] Surprise me. [she stands and he stands with her, their hands still clasped] You have the bridge. [a long, long look between them, and she turns to look again after she reaches the upper level on her way to the lift; when she's gone, his smile fades]
...
SEVEN: I wasted our time together.
AXUM: No--you didn't. It gave us a chance to fall in love again.
...
JANEWAY: Have you heard from your friend?
SEVEN: No. But I don't expect to. Axum's vessel is in a remote sector of the Beta Quadrant. --If I ever imply that he was nothing more than a friend--remind me about today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Neelix said you'd probably be ready for a refill about now."
Janeway looked up from the padd she was studying to see Chakotay approaching her bio-bed with a thermos of coffee in one hand. His other hand was out of her sight behind his back.
"That's very thoughtful of him, and of you." They spoke quietly so as not to disturb Tuvok and Torres, sleeping in adjacent bays. Her smile turned into a suspicious frown. "What's in your other hand? Not more reports, I hope."
"You're the one who wanted a work station set up in here," he reminded her, nodding toward the rolling table heaped with padds and crowned with a terminal; but then he brought his hand forward to reveal the perfect rose he had replicated for her, delicate swirls of peach and coral and yellow and a sprinkling of dew on the soft petals. Surprise me, she'd said-- "You get one when you cheat assimilation, too."
She breathed deeply of the scent and then beamed at him, a drop of dew on the tip of her nose; reflected light from the bloom gave an illusion of color to her wan cheeks. "You're not only thoughtful, but sweet. Did you bring one for B'Elanna and Tuvok?"
"Well, I figured Tom would provide B'Elanna's reward, and that Tuvok would prefer a good game of kalto with Harry."
She gestured with the padd. "I see Tom gave you a pretty rough time as acting first officer."
"Not nearly as rough as I give you. He's still an amateur."
"Let's hope he doesn't get another chance to practice anytime soon." His expression was one of heartfelt agreement, and for a split second he looked years older. "I appreciate your trusting us enough to leave us in there."
"I probably don't have to tell you those were the longest four hours of my life." Four hours spent fully expecting never to see her again but praying he was wrong, four hours spent facing Paris's insistence, expressed not only in verbal confrontation but also in the tension of his shoulders, the lines of worry on his brow, that the mere possibility of a Borg civil war was not worth three precious lives. "When we lost shields and had to back off, my mind was already racing ahead, trying to figure out a next move, how to get another team onto that cube." He didn't tell her he would have led the team himself. He didn't have to. "If General Korok had shown up on the bridge I'd have kissed him."
"I'm glad I got to meet him, if only for a few minutes. I wish we could have helped him more."
"He'll have new allies before long. And between their own medical knowledge and the information the Doctor downloaded into their computer, in time his crew will be like Seven--mostly restored to their former physiology and appearance. The more recent assimilees will end up with no more Borg technology in their bodies than you have."
"The Doctor was just telling me that he thinks he can extract the rest of it once I've recuperated another day--so you won't have to answer to a Borg captain."
"I wouldn't care, as long as she was you." He was pleased, however, that she and B'Elanna and Tuvok wouldn't be carrying around any permanent souvenirs of their brief, endless time aboard a Borg cube. "I'd have gotten used to your new look in time."
She ran a hand through shiny new hair. "I'm not sure I would have. We'd have had to get rid of every reflective surface on the ship. Ah, vanity!"
"Oh, even bald you could have gone a long way on that smile. I'm glad to see it again." Over the years he had learned how to express a lover's sentiments without a lover's inflections, and she had learned to accept and enjoy them in like spirit; now, as always, she basked immodestly in his flattery, like a cat in a ray of sunlight. He lifted a strand of hair away from her face. "Well--" He was about to say back to work, but she held out her hand and instead he clasped it, and leaned against the bio-bed as if he had all day. For her, today, he did.
She could still feel the brush of his fingers across her cheek. He was rarely inclined to reach out like that, to seek casual physical contact; her escapade had taken a lot out of him for him to be so open in his affection. It had taken a lot out of her, too. She was fond of telling junior officers to reflect on their experiences. Confined to Sickbay for observation, she hadn't had much to do besides read her many get-well wishes and follow her own advice.
"I want you to know that I understand now, a little, what it was like for you when Riley Frazier's collective trapped you." He tensed with unpleasant memory, but did not let go her hand. "Even though I was never fully assimilated I could sense the Collective mind, and I was very much aware of what would happen if the neural suppressant wore off--what I could be made to do. And then Tuvok was assimilated, the strongest mind among us, and after he captured me I could only hope that because the Queen wasn't gloating B'Elanna was still safe--" Her hand had tightened on his; her voice was flat and rough. "It was good to know you were out there. I knew you'd do all you could. It was good to see you, when the Queen let me talk to you. I didn't feel so alone." Good to see you one last time.
"It was hard to see you, knowing what it meant." Hard to see you, maybe for the last time.
"Now I understand a little what I was asking you to risk when we linked you to the Collective in order to break Seven away, and I understand why you never trusted the Borg to keep their end of the bargain when we allied with them. You knew them in a way I couldn't--and Riley's bunch were relatively benign, as Borg go."
After all these years she could still surprise him. He had come to offer sympathy for her ordeal, not to receive it for his own. Those who believed she never admitted her mistakes were themselves mistaken; she was as sincere in apology or concession as she was in displeasure. You just have to wait a while sometimes--
"Why are you smiling?"
"Was I smiling?"
"Yes, you were." And a sight for sore eyes it was.
"It's just relief. I still don't want to be captain."
Her own smile was grateful and glowing as she briefly rested her other hand, the one holding the rose, over his. He could hardly tell her that at the moment he was feeling so protective and tender that he'd smile through an entire dressing-down--but she probably knew. He had smiled over their clasped hands on the bridge two days before, trying to support her, to pretend that it was nothing, just another day at the office, we'll get together for dinner as usual in a couple of hours, no worries, this isn't the last time I'll ever see your smile and hear your voice, no, not the last time at all-- He had rarely seen her frightened for herself, but she had been appalled by the task she had set herself in this mission, openly and unashamedly; leaving the bridge she had been magnificent in her control, her determination, her courage. Now she was accessible, vulnerable, and he wished he could gather her into his arms and simply hold her, nothing more, just to feel that she was real and safe--
"Hey--you aren't smiling now."
He blinked quickly before his eyes betrayed him any more than they already had, and withdrew his hand before he gripped hers hard enough to bruise. "I'm about to confess that I didn't get the carpets cleaned. But when the Doctor lets you loose I'll make you dinner."
"You're on." Damn, she was tearing up herself. It was too soon for a conversation like this. "You know," she said, trying to cover darker emotion with a shaky laugh, "if you hadn't gone along I never would have put myself--or you--through this. So it's all your fault."
"Well, I'm never going along again--I can't stand the strain." His own voice was a little rough. "So don't bother asking." Don't ask me again to consider you expendable--
"I'm sorry, Commander, but I must declare visiting hours over." Unnoticed by either of them, the Doctor had approached and was studying the bio-bed readings with a sour frown. "Though it's true that I am the most talented physician in the entire Delta Quadrant and my treatments are without parallel in ingenuity, even I cannot work miracles. I have already had to order Mr. Paris not to spend every waking hour by Lieutenant Torres' bedside, and if you don't allow Captain Janeway to get the rest I ordered, her body won't hold its own against the remaining Borg technology in her system and by next week she'll need her own regeneration alcove right next to Seven's."
Patient and visitor traded contrite looks. "Okay, I'm going," Chakotay said. It wasn't a bad idea to get out of there before tenderness burgeoned into something a lot harder to push aside. There was a reason they avoided personal conversations-- "Hurry back," he said to her. "It's awfully quiet up there."
"I'll be calling in that dinner IOU before you know it--"
When he turned in the doorway for a last glance at her, she was perusing the padd he had brought her, the rose still in her hand.
********************