by Tricia Donovan © 2000
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek
belongs to Paramount, but this story is mine. Please do not post
it elsewhere without my permission.
Part one
"The bridge is yours," he said and moved slowly towards the door.
She watched him all the way. She had thought he could not surprise her further, thought she knew him in all his duplicity. Then he had confounded her expectations. In the sudden shift from slavery to freedom her certainties had been turned upside down.
With no desire to gloat, or thought of vengeance, she had told him, in a voice rich with regret, that her offer of asylum had been genuine. The sorrow in his eyes and voice said that he knew what he had lost.
There was no pleasure for her in this realization.
He walked heavily, as if a burden too great for him to bear alone had been placed on his shoulders. She felt what could have been pity for him, but might only have been regret for what they never had.
At the exit he turned and looked at her.
As the door hissed closed behind him she continued to gaze unwaveringly at its featureless surface; as if by doing so she could prevent the moment passing; as if by doing so she could hold him on her ship.
Then she turned away and sat, not hearing the music, not seeing the bridge. The crew began filing back and she realized she had no idea what she had been thinking.
She stood up and tugged on her uniform jacket. "Computer, end music," she said briskly. Its sudden cessation was a line drawn under what had gone before. Kathryn Janeway, whether she realized it or not at that moment, was back on course for the Alpha Quadrant.
She concnetrated on externals: noting of her officers' reactions. Tom and B'Elanna were angry in their different ways: Tom characteristically taking refuge in flippancy, B'Elanna muttering beneath her breath. Harry Kim was shaking his head in disbelief. Tuvok, after one all-seeing glance at his Captain returned to his station as if the interruption had been routine.
Seven tilted her head back and slightly to one side, and said "Captain." It was not a greeting or a question, but a statement, as if she had been taking inventory of her small world, and was at last able to put a tick against the indispensable component.
Chakotay's lips were tightly pressed together, but when he saw her rising unharmed from his chair his features relaxed.
"Kathryn," he said, hurrying to her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Chakotay. What about the crew?"
"Nothing to worry about. One or two bruises - our ... visitors were less than gentle with some of the more excitable crew members. The doctor is treating the casualties now."
He paused and looked at her consideringly. "Whatever you said to them, certainly seems to have had the desired effect."
"I don't understand it myself, Chakotay. We'll have a debriefing at 16.00 hours. For now I just want to get under way and out of Devore space as quickly as possible."
She could see that Chakotay was not satisfied with her reply, but she did not want to speculate on Kashyk's motives until she had had an opportunity to think the matter over quietly.
Before she did anything else, Kathryn made a shipwide announcement thanking the men and women of Voyager for their loyalty and courage over the past few weeks. Then she spoke privately to the telepath members of her crew. Only Tuvok, who knew her so well, registered her choice of the briefing room for their meeting rather than the ready room.
When the meeting was over, he remained behind to talk to the Captain. Despite his efforts, and her assurances, he knew he had made little impression on her. He reflected that something other than Vulcan logic was needed.
Some time later he called at Chakotay's office.
"Based on my longstanding acquaintance with the Captain, my observation of her movements since the departure of the warships, and her words this morning, it is clear to me that Captain Janeway blames herself for all that has happened since we entered Devore space."
Chakotay sighed and looked at the Vulcan for some seconds before replying. "Do you think this is a rerun of the Void?"
"Unlikely. Then, the Captain was facing a long spell of inactivity."
Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Chakotay smiled inwardly. Only Tuvok could describe the dreadful nothingness of that region of space, as 'inactivity'.
"Even I found it difficult to maintain my equilibrium during that trying time. For the Captain it provided an unwelcome opportunity to brood on recent events. I have remarked in her before a tendency to morbid reflection. If you remember it was the need for action, and the perceived danger to Voyager that brought the Captain out of her depression. It would appear that there is no danger of inactivity at the moment."
That was certainly the case, thought Chakotay. Kathryn had not remained in one place for more than a few minutes. She was all over the ship: Engineering, Astrometrics, Stellar Cartography, Sick Bay, the mess hall, even Airponics.
If asked, she would have said that the crew needed to see their captain, talk to her, know she was concerned for the welfare of even the least of them.
There was some truth in that, Chakotay admitted. What bothered him was that this activity, almost manic in its nature, was not about reassuring the crew, but about stopping Kathryn from thinking. What would happen when, as she must, she found herself alone in her quarters with nothing to do but think.
"I'll have a word with her, Tuvok," he said finally.
It was another hour before Kathryn finally returned to the bridge. The bright smile she had worn all morning was still in place: a dreadful mask that she could not, or would not remove. A too-lengthy, too busy inspection followed. When she was satisfied that everything was in order, or when she could prolong this no longer, she sat down
at last, but after no more than a minute stood up and turned to
Chakotay.
"You have the bridge, Commander. I shall be in my ready room."
She walked puposefully towards the door and then paused. As if steeling herself for an ordeal, Chakotay thought. He would give her half an hour, and then confront her.
Kathryn looked around the familiar room. She had left it last under armed guard, and now it no longer seemed hers. Even her possessions had
taken on an alien quality.
"Come on, Kathryn," she said sternly to herself. What was she to do? Throw away her beloved grandfather's sextant, her treasured bust of Pericles?
"You'll be swearing off coffee next", she muttered.
Well she could do something about that, she thought, heading for the replicator.
She took a quick gulp of the too-hot coffee. It should not have been that hot, surely. She would ask B'Elanna to run a diagnostic.
"One more delaying tactic, Kathryn?" she said, her voice too loud in the still room, her hand falling away from her comm badge.
She stood there a moment, an intruder in her own place, her voice still seeming to reverberate in the silence. The time had come to
reclaim what was hers.
Cup in hand, she went round the room, touching each object he had touched, like a priest performing a ritual cleansing.
Then she turned her attention to the desk and the PADDs stacked there. The rest of the 'therapy' could wait. She did not feel her
concentration would be helped by music. Not under the circumstances.
There was a certain pleasure in working through routine matters: the daily bureaucracy that was the backdrop to even the most heroic of
exploits. Kathryn felt a quiet satisfaction at the sight of the
rapidly diminishing stack.
She took a sip from the now cold cup of coffee and decided she would
replicate, not another cup this time, but a potful. The door bleeped as she was filling her cup.
"How many's that?" asked Chakotay as he came in.
"This is only my second," Kathryn said warily. Chakotay had a look in his eyes that suggested he had some plain speaking in mind.
"So normal service has been resumed?"
By way of an answer Kathryn asked him if he would like a cup, then gestured to the seating area away from the desk.
"What's on your mind, Commander?" Her momentary hesitation before the use of his rank underlined the formality. Kathryn did not
like lectures, and Tuvok's words were fresh in her mind. Despite the unemotional tone in which they had been delivered, Kathryn was in no doubt that her chief security officer had rebuked her for what he saw as her self-indulgence.
Of course Tuvok had not used those words, but Kathryn knew that she was indulging herself a little over this, substituting a lesser pain
for the greater one she did not yet dare examine.
"What's going on, Kathryn?"
"There's nothing 'going on', Chakotay."
"Two bridge inspections in the space of four hours? That sounds like something going on to me."
Kathryn took a sip of her coffee, looking at him steadily over the rim of the cup.
"What happened here wasn't your fault."
"No? We were warned about the Devore policy towards telepaths. We ... I could have made a detour round their space ..."
"And added two years to our journey. We all agreed, even Tuvok, that the risk was worth taking. And, before you say it, rescuing the
Brenari did not place us in any greater danger ... we were already smuggling telepaths, as the Devore saw it, so a dozen or so more made little difference."
A smile, the first unforced smile Chakotay had seen from her that day, lifted the corner of Kathryn's mouth.
"It's nice to see you and Tuvok working so well together."
"Whatever our differences in the past, we both have your welfare, and that of Voyager, at heart."
They were both quiet for a few minutes, but it was the comfortable silence of good friends.
"Kathryn, you can't redeem everyone."
She looked at him, astonished by his perception.
"Chakotay, if you had seen the look in his eyes." She paused and continued slowly, not meeting his eyes. "A lost soul, cast out forever from bliss."
Now it was Chakotay's turn to be astonished as Kathryn, the twenty-fourth-century scientist, spoke in the language of archaic creeds. There was something about their situation, alone in uncharted space, that led believers and non-believers alike to question the foundations on which their individual philosophies were based.
He tried to find the words to comfort her, but was relieved of the necessity by the bleeping of the door.
"Saved by the bell?" Kathryn smiled.
The door slid open to admit Neelix carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of something that smelled good.
"Good afternoon, Captain. I couldn't help noticing that on the three occasions you visited the mess hall, you didn't have anything to eat. That won't do, you know. It's not good for the crew's morale to see their captain like that, and it's not good for you. You
can't run a ship on coffee alone."
Kathryn and Chakotay grinned at the irresistible image of a warp drive powered by coffee beans.
"Nice to see you smiling, Captain. Now, I've made you some soup and a tomato salad. Commander, I expect you to see that she eats every
last bit."
"Neelix, what would I do without you?"
"What would any of us do without you, Captain?" Neelix bustled towards the door. "Don't let your soup get cold."
"You see?" said Chakotay when they were alone again. "The only person blaming you is you. Now eat!"
"Aye, Sir."
Kathryn had to admit that she was hungry, and the food was delicious. Still, she could have done without Chakotay watching her like an anxious parent. If I leave one scrap, she thought, he'll probably play 'Starship at the Docking bay' to get me to finish it.
The message came through as Chakotay was getting up to leave.
"Don't go," she said, angling the monitor so that Kashyk could see them both.
"Captain." Then after a long pause. "Commander."
Kashyk's face stared out unsmiling from the screen. Chakotay thought of Kathryn's words: 'A lost soul.' He said nothing. He did not want to look at Kathryn. Did not want to see her pain. When she spoke her voice was without emotion, and that, as much as anything else, told him how deeply she was feeling this.
"Inspector. What can we do for you?" A slight emphasis on the first pronoun.
Kashyk looked down for a second, and when he lifted his head the sadness in his face had gone, replaced by the sardonic smile they knew so well.
"Captain, I trust you and your crew are none the worse for our encounters. I must confess I found them quite ... stimulating."
"What do you want, Inspector?"
"Ah, straight to the point. Prax would be most appreciative."
Kathryn gave a sigh and turned to Chakotay, a theatrical expression of boredom on her face.
At that Kashyk began to speak, his tone as flat as Kathryn's. "If you follow the course I have plotted for you, you will attract the minimum of attention, and should clear our space in three weeks. I have instructed all warships in the vicinity to allow you free passage."
He waited for her to say something, but Kathryn would not allow him that small victory. The sadness was back in the dark eyes, and his voice softened. "Well, safe journey. Goodbye ... Kathryn."
She would have said something then, but the monitor had blinked into
lifelessness. She turned to Chakotay, speaking very fast, telling him that it was almost time for the debriefing, and that he should leave her now. She would join him and the other officers in the briefing room. For now there were things she had to do.
Tears gathered in her eyes as the door closed behind Chakotay, but
Kathryn Janeway would not allow herself that luxury. She blinked
hard and reflected unflinchingly on what she had lost.
"Kashyk," she said quietly.
And as each new loss contained those that had gone before, so, in speaking that name, she spoke the names of all the others: her father,
Justin, her mother, Phoebe, Mark, and those friends and comrades who were now so much space dust floating in the Delta Quadrant.
Alone and defiant, Kathryn faced down her past with eyes as fierce and bright as the stars through which Voyager powered her graceful
way homeward.
[ Part Two ]
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