A Star Trek: Voyager Short Story
By Adrian Hilton
This story is set early in series 6 of the Voyager annals. Look back to the first episode of series 5 ("Night") where Voyager was crossing the massive void, and Captain Janeway had become a recluse; shut in her cabin, brooding on the events of the past few years, and in particular how they'd come to be stuck in the Delta Quadrant.
"I made an error in judgement, Chakotay. It was shortsighted and it was selfish and now all of us are paying for my mistake!"
It struck me then that Janeway never really had anyone to talk to, anyone upon whom she could really unburden herself. Normally she would be able to go to Mark (had he not remote-dumped her in Hunters), or even her companion captains in Star Fleet, but with decades of warp travel between them she had no-one. Leonardo da Vinci? I mean, puh-leeze... This story came out of my ponderings on Janeway's situation.
The story is rated 18 (UK), or NC-17 (USA); it centres around a suicide attempt, and may prove upsetting.
A poem inspired by this story is What I Choose To Do by Chloe Meakin.
The speaker chimed softly but firmly. "It is 06:30 hours," announced the computer.
Janeway groaned and rolled over in bed. Morning already? For the past few weeks it had been getting harder and harder to wake, despite her efforts to get to sleep earlier. Even ten hours didn't seem to be enough for her to feel refreshed. She pulled the covers tighter around her and buried her head in the pillow. Harry was quite capable of holding the bridge for a few more minutes. That reminded her -- his appraisal was due later this week and she hadn't started to put her thoughts together about it. Another groan, and she clutched her pillow protectively.
The computer sounded more prim the next time around, announcing 07:00 hours with the unstated enquiry of why the Captain wasn't yet on the bridge and kicking a Kazon cruiser into touch. Janeway snarled quietly and crawled shakily onto the floor. She sat there for a minute or so, dazed, shaking her head to try to clear it. The small silver-framed mirror on her bedside table showed her face; puffy eyes, a train wreck of a hairstyle and a pallor of skin that wouldn't have looked out of place on a cave-dweller. Hardly encouraged by the image, Janeway rose with a wobble to her feet and stumbled towards the sonic shower.
From the bathroom came her yawning voice. "Computer, activate sonic shower -- maximum frequency." The whine of the shower was obscured by a gasp as Janeway got what she asked for.
Ten minutes later, a fully conscious captain stood in front of her mirror brushing out her tresses until they were willing to do what she wanted. If she could out-face Maquis, Kazon, Borg and Species 8472 then she was damned if her own body was going to beat her. Finally her hair was docile enough to pin it up; as she gathered it around her hands she noticed another grey streak in it.
"You're getting old, Kathryn Janeway," she muttered to the mirror. The ravaged face didn't argue with her. Janeway grabbed her make-up kit and gave her eyes enough of a going-over to hide the worst of the damage. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone on the bridge would have noticed.
Strong coffee in hand, she ran her eyes down the day's roster. Same ol' same ol'. The engines were hiccuping slightly; B'Elanna would have that in hand, but Janeway would have to ask her about it anyway, making B'Elanna believe she wasn't trusted to do her job. Then she'd have to be calmed down, and just as she had managed that Tom Paris was bound to make a flippant remark... Janeway drew in a breath and closed her eyes briefly. One of these days she'd like to take that boy and dent the bulkhead with his skull. At times over the past two weeks she had wondered whether she'd made the right choice in bringing him on board.
A chime from the intercom. "Chakotay to the Captain."
Janeway moaned, then touched her com-badge. "Go ahead, Commander." For goodness' sake, she hadn't been due on the bridge more than ten minutes back, and that was more for norm's sake than anything else. What was it that was more important than her sleep? Had Harry tried to take a short cut through a supernova?
"I think you should come to the bridge," Chakotay advised. "There's something that deserves your attention."
"On my way." Once the channel had closed, Janeway's face darkened, and she let a breath out with scrupulous care, nostrils flaring. Couldn't the ship run itself just once? Just for one day? "Captain" this, "Captain" that, people seeking her attention so that she couldn't walk ten metres without someone button-holing her. These were supposed to be Star-fleet crew members! What had happened to "independence", "self-reliance" and "taking responsibility for your own work" -- weren't they taught any more?
Janeway had noticed that the Maquis tended to be much lower-maintenance than her own Star-fleet personnel. Whether that was because Chakotay tended to be their first port of call, who knew, but there was a noticeable difference. The only non-Maquis crewmember who wasn't a constant press on her was Neelix, and he hadn't been within parsecs of the Academy. Maybe that was it?
"Hah!" she snorted, kicking at her crumpled nightdress which lay on the floor where she'd dropped it. The snort turned to a yelp as her toe caught on a PADD hidden underneath the silk folds. She hopped up and down on the good foot, clutching at her toe and swearing quietly. It wouldn't be good for the captain to be heard cursing now, would it?
"Shame on you," she muttered, opening her door. "Late for duty, no self-respect, no self-control -- what happened to the dignity of command?" The door slid shut after her, bringing an uneasy quiet to the semi-lit cabin.
Janeway stepped out of the turbolift and surveyed the bridge. Harry was still in the command chair, discussing something with Chakotay. Everyone else had just come on shift, and they were busy tapping at display panels. She stifled a yawn as she eyed the main screen. Nothing of interest; she was coming to the conclusion that after five years of the Delta Quadrant you'd seen pretty much everything in it worth seeing.
Chakotay glanced up and caught sight of her. She saw his eyes flicker briefly to the bridge chronometer before snapping back. "Captain on the bridge!"
Harry stood up from the command chair, PADD in hand. "Good morning, captain. We've an unusual reading on sensors that Commander Chakotay thought you'd be interested in..."
"An unusual reading?" Janeway stepped down towards the command chair and cast an eye at the relevant screen. "Are we recording it?"
Chakotay looked surprised. "Of course, Captain."
"Good, because it will have to wait. Everything in its own time, Commander. I must see Mr. Neelix about something more urgent. You have the conn." Chakotay's expression twitched slightly, but reset quickly to impassivity.
"Yes, Captain." He took the chair, casting a glance backwards as Janeway left the bridge. His fingers stroked his chin as his eyes looked into space.
Why are you like this, Kathryn? Chakotay didn't need any Indian sixth sense to pick up the waves of anger, tension and frustration which were coming off his captain. His efforts to communicate over the past week had been rebuffed, at first politely but then with increasing resentment and anger. The crew knew too, and he had found it necessary to come down hard on one or two too-indiscreet conversations. Captains' problems didn't go down more than one level of command if discipline was to be maintained; that lesson he'd learned the hard way in the Badlands. He had a gathering fear that Janeway would soon be learning it too.
Janeway walked briskly towards the galley. A headache had started, and she was almost sure that some food would help it go away.
"Ah Captain! Glad I caught you."
The headache increased as she turned to face the Doctor at the door of Sickbay. She closed her eyes briefly. "Yes, Doctor?"
The E.M.H. seemed outrageously perky for the time of day. She idly wondered whether a judicious bit of reprogramming could give him a taste of what a bad morning was like.
"I'm planning the crew's annual medical inspection, and there are a few points I'd like to go over with you?" The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he caught the subtle details of Janeway's face. "Captain? Is everything all right?"
"Thank you Doctor, everything is just fine. Put an appointment in my roster for next week, will you?" Striding off, Janeway was glad that her back was to the Doctor as her hands clenched. Couldn't that hologram do something by himself for once? He'd been given his independence; it was time that he used it properly, for her convenience rather than for his own.
The galley was less than quarter-filled, most of the crew having eaten already and departed for their station. Neelix was behind the stoves as always, sprinkling something blueish into a smoking saucepan. Didn't the Talaxian ever sleep? And what did he take to keep himself going?
A quiet ensign from Engineering glanced up from her plate of whortleberry salad. Her face registered surprise at seeing the Captain, but her "Good morning Captain," was polite. What was her name again?
"Morning, Ensign," said Janeway curtly as she passed. A twinge of guilt plucked at her as she came up to the bar. "Morning Mr. Neelix, what have you got to kick an old woman into life?" Some unprompted voice in her mind said that steel-capped boots were the only thing she deserved this morning. Behind her she could hear several crew members leaving the room. Did she smell badly or something?
"I'm afraid that my creative juices have run short today," admitted Neelix, bringing the saucepan over. He carefully tipped its contents into a pair of bowls. "It's the old fallback of Traachian Ga-Tard; I know it's made regular appearances lately, but we have so much of it in Stores, and it won't keep forever. At least it's not leola root. I have, however," he confided as his hands brought up a plate from under the counter, "taken the liberty of baking that recipe you gave me the other month. Chocolate chip cookies; real Devorian cocoa beans. The Devorians may be ruthless fascists, but if they'd tried more of the culinary delights of their homeworld they might have been one of the most peaceable races in the quadrant by now!" The obligatory bathtub-sized mug of steaming black coffee joined the cookies and Ga-Tard.
Despite her morning so far, Janeway couldn't help but smile as Neelix pressed the dishes into her hands. "Thank you, Mr. Neelix."
"Anything for my captain!" Neelix brightly replied. He caught her eye, and she saw something serious there behind the morning jollity. Taking the food, she located a small corner table and sat there. Only two other tables were taken; a pair of Bajorans sat at one, and occupying the other were two Security ensigns who appeared to be comparing notes on something.
"Captain."
Janeway was mostly successful in suppressing the instinctive groan as she recognised that flat intonation, lacking the question mark that the rest of the crew usually supplied. Her headache pounded on the back of her left eye and her hands squeezed the sides of the coffee mug.
"Seven." It came out in a sigh. "What is it?"
"You agreed to come to Astrometrics at 07:30 this morning. It is now 08:00." It was hard to catch any real emotional inflection in Seven's voice, but Janeway thought that she detected the faintest hint of disapproval.
"Are you telling me I'm late, Seven?" she asked quietly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Neelix turn his head, and carefully place his saucepan back onto the stove.
"It is inefficient to arrange a meeting time and then ignore it." Seven was not one for holding back her thoughts. While sometimes it was refreshing, this morning it was exactly the wrong thing to say.
"I see. Thank you for letting me in on that, Seven." Janeway paused. The Bajorans had half-turned in their seats, and the primal instincts of the security detail appeared to be kicking in as both had their eyes fixed firmly on Janeway and Seven.
"I'll tell you what. I'll go back to Astrometrics and take over what you were doing; I used to be a damn good Science Officer at one time." As she rose from her seat, Janeway's trembling fingers came up to her collar and started to release her command pips. Her voice was still quiet but had hardened to diamond. "Why don't you take these, go to the bridge, show them to Commander Chakotay, tell them that you've relieved a senile old woman of her duties and take the conn?" She slapped the pips into Seven's hand, and dropped sharply back onto her seat. "Now go away and let me eat in peace." She picked up her coffee and stared hard into it, furiously avoiding Seven's eyes.
Seven's expression of surprise had rarely been so evident, though she composed herself quickly. She looked down at the pips in her hand, then carefully placed them on the edge of Janeway's table and walked away. The Bajorans were already gathering their belongings, and the security detail were very carefully not looking anywhere near Janeway.
In the sudden silence after Seven's exit, Neelix turned back to his kitchen. Janeway could feel him gazing through the back of his head at her. She slammed her mug onto the table and buried her head in her hands. What is wrong with me? The hot pinpricks of tears started at the corners of her eyes, and she angrily rubbed them away with her palms. Drawing breath to conceal a sob she stood up and walked to her ready room, scooping up her pips as she left. Crewmen made space for her as she stalked past; an angry redhead doesn't need to ask for space even once.
The never-shrinking list of work made it easier for Janeway to put out of her mind what had happened in the galley. For a while she was able to immerse herself in operational reports, security audits, tactical plans and navigational updates. After a couple of hours, however, her attention started to wander. She had read Tuvok's report three times, and none of it had stuck in her head. With irritation she cast the PADD across her desk and sat back in her chair. The stars streaking by her window attracted her, and she swivelled the chair so that she could stare out into deep space.
She thought of her crew, the hundred-fifty people who had trusted her to lead them out of the Delta Quadrant. She remembered the crew members whom she failed. Ensign Jetal, killed in the attack that had nearly cost her Harry and the sanity of the Doctor. Darwin, murdered by Suder. Suder himself, killed defending a crew whom he could so easily have abandoned. Hogan, agonisingly devoured by that creature on the volcanic planet... She tried to remember the other crew members who had died, and cursed herself for not being able to bring even their names to mind. A good captain was supposed to care, to remember, wasn't she?
She thought of her officers, those whom she was supposed to lead, guide and support. The ever-cool and logical Tuvok, holding the security of the ship in his hands. Fiery B'Elanna Torres, the best engineering chief a captain could want combined with a bravery that had made her suffocate in the depths of a missile in order to prevent a catastrophe which she had inadvertently wrought. Young Harry, star-bright from the Academy, like a son to her, but now maturing into a real man. Tom Paris, alternating between maddening adolescent and desperately brave hero, while being the best pilot she'd ever know. Calm and commanding Chakotay, who had carried the crew through the two months of the void while their captain had sulked in her quarters.
She thought of Seven, whom she had wrenched from the Borg to rejoin the human race. The change from hostility and malice, through a wrestling of wills, to acceptance and finally her affection for and trust of the crew.
She thought of Kes, whose presence had brought a light to Voyager that was now long-gone. The Ocampan's sweet smile, her gardens, her empathy, her final and magnificent gift to Voyager.
She thought of Mark, an unimaginable distance and time away, married to someone whom she would never meet. Had he ever mourned the loss of his Kathryn as she had mourned him so often in the long nights of the Delta Quadrant? Or had he secretly been glad of the excuse to leave her? Almost involuntarily, her fingers tapped out a request on her viewscreen. The picture of Mark which appeared there differed not by one pixel from that in her memory, yet still her fingers reached out to caress the screen.
Her door chimed a request. Janeway hastily wiped the tears from her face, and with a barely cracked voice acknowledged the visitor.
Chakotay had brought a PADD with him, which he placed in front of her. "We've logged that sensor reading fully; it looks like an unusual phase of formation of a binary star system. Seven has updated the Astrometrics database with the pattern, and the logs are available for your inspection." His words came in exactly the tone recommended by Starfleet protocol for addressing a superior officer. Janeway felt them grate on her.
"Thank you, Chakotay." She picked up the PADD and glanced at it, seeing a well-presented report. Not a comma out of place.
Chakotay was still standing in front of her desk, arms behind his back. "Captain, are you all right?"
Janeway looked up at her first officer, a handsome and powerful man with great dignity. She felt inadequate to face him, let alone command him. "Yes, Chakotay, I'm fine. Please, continue with your duties."
She could see the muscles play on his face, and felt his keen eyes searching her expression.
"Yes, Captain." He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Janeway breathed with relief, and sank back into her chair. How to tell him that Voyager would be far better off with him in command? She checked the chronometer. Still six hours of her shift left. Tuvok would be taking the captain's chair overnight; she had heard Harry planning another Captain Proton escapade on the Holodeck with Tom Paris. How could the young enjoy themselves so freely? She cast her mind back to her Holodeck governess program, now accumulating virtual cobwebs. Even her time with Leonardo seemed less attractive; all she wanted to do off shift was to sleep. But all the time in the Universe seemed to be too little for that.
Her mind turned back to the events of the morning, and she reached for her com badge. "Janeway to Seven of Nine." The returning "Captain?" bore no trace of anger or annoyance.
"Seven, could you come to my ready room when you have a moment?" The pause that followed was longer than normal for Seven.
"I will be there in twelve minutes. I have an nova formation simulation to complete."
"Thank you. Janeway out." She felt a weight come off her shoulders -- or at least, partway off. Turning to look at the stars again, she floated into a reverie. Such a deep, vast emptiness there; great stars millions of kilometres across being the tiniest of specks. Voyager crawling across the carpet of space towards the unimaginably distant Alpha Quadrant. All the hostiles out there seeking her blood; all the hazards of foreign space; the hidden but acute danger of malfunction within her ship, and decades of travel left for them. She shivered in fear, feeling a huge gap of adequacy.
The arrival and entrance of Seven startled her back into reality.
"Seven, please sit down." Seven eyed her carefully, but gracefully positioned herself on the edge of the proffered seat. She said nothing, sharp eyes focused on Janeway.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Seven." Janeway wished that the Borg had less control over her expression; Seven would be a mean poker player if ever she saw the point of the game. "I lost my temper and bit your head off, and I was entirely in the wrong. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
Seven inclined her head slightly. "It is not important, Captain. No harm was done. I can reschedule our meeting, if that would be appropriate."
Janeway managed a smile. "I'd like that. Would now be a good time?"
For once, Seven looked slightly surprised. She recovered quickly. "Certainly." Rising, she and Janeway left the ready room for the Astrometrics lab.
At change of shift, Tuvok came to the bridge to take the conn. Janeway was in the command chair when he arrived, finishing a series of notes in the log. As he came to her, she felt his presence and smiled up at him. It was a tired smile, but it felt good.
"Tuvok, how are you?"
Tuvok considered the question. "I am well, Captain. Is there anything I should be aware of?"
Janeway was caught off-guard by the question, and stumbled in her words for a moment before realising that the Vulcan was referring to the condition of Voyager. Hastily she covered her tracks. "No, no, everything seems fine. It should be a peaceful night." She stood to let Tuvok take the chair. A last glance at the viewscreen showed the spiralling stars of warp. "Goodnight, Mr. Tuvok."
"Goodnight, Captain." Tuvok checked his console and addressed the ensign at Tactical. "We will run a full diagnostic on the tactical redundancy system. Load up simulator program Alpha Sigma Three."
Janeway quietly backed into the turbolift, watching the calm competency of her Security Officer. As the doors closed she leant against the lift walls and felt her muscles relax.
The cabin was much as she'd left it that morning, so long ago it now seemed. The bed unmade, clothes on the floor, her dressing table a mess of hairgrips and opened pots of makeup. Janeway carefully took off her uniform and hung it in the closet, then donned a T-shirt and shorts. With her face set in serenity she scooped the debris off the floor onto the bed, and spent a silent ten minutes sorting it out. The mess on the dressing table was squared away in a manner that would have done a sergeant-major proud. Finally Janeway made her bed, taking exquisite care to get the sheet mitred at the corners and tensioned enough to bounce her command pips on.
Steeling her body to that effort had drained her, and she sank onto her couch with a glass of wine from the replicator. Getting the taste of 20th-century French Côtes du Rhône took some effort, but was worth it, especially this time. She sipped at the drink and let her hair out of its pinions. In the background was the soft music of a 21st-century pianist working through the Moonlight Sonata.
She had made the decision at some time during the afternoon. She was not sure when, but now it seemed to be only natural way for things to go. She could not go on doing this to her crew; they deserved better from a Captain of Starfleet. If she could not even keep herself from sinking into a pit of despair, how could she bring all the crew through the trials of life in the Delta Quadrant with a faith that they would make it home? She knew with a certainty that her choice was the best, the least complicated, the only way that she could choose. She thought back to the old Q who had sought asylum on Voyager, and in the end had achieved the ultimate protection from the Continuum's malice.
She brought herself back to the here and now, finding her glass mostly empty. There was a certain amount of thought that had to go into this evening. Better to start it while she was still relatively sober. She walked over to her command console.
"Computer, access Emergency Medical Hologram command program."
The computer came straight back at her. "That program is restricted."
"Override authority Janeway, Kathryn. Captain, USS Voyager." Her mouth twisted slightly with the irony of the last sentence.
"Identity confirmed, access accepted." Janeway tapped in a short series of commands. In Sickbay the Doctor was aware of a momentary change to his program, pausing in his work to check his circuits. When the self-diagnosis checked out and the sensation did not repeat he gave a very human shrug and continued, softly singing to himself.
Janeway moved to the replicator. She had extracted the necessary code from the ship's pharmacological database earlier in the day, though again needed to invoke her command authority to persuade the replicator to produce what she required. A small dish fizzed into existence with two small white pills on it. Janeway scooped them into her hand. She hesitated for only a short time before swallowing them and chasing them with a gulp of wine.
It was easy to sink back onto the couch now that the deed was done. Janeway reached over to her coffee table and picked up the photo of herself and Mark. It was small; she had had to trim the edges to fit it into the antique silver frame which Mark had bought her. As she gazed at the image she felt Mark's arm around her shoulder again, and smelled his scent. Her eyes screwed up, and for the first time since Voyager had left port Kathryn Janeway really cried. She held the photo to her face and howled with pain. "Oh Mark, oh Mark..." Tears soaked her cheeks, and she rocked back and forth. "I miss you so, so much." The sobs shook her body. Alone in her cabin she gave vent to years of pain and loneliness, enough to tear her heart to pieces. "God forgive me, I can't do this any more! I can't!"
Gradually her crying grew softer, and she drew her legs up to curl on the couch. Sniffing and wiping the salt from her eyes she looked again at the photo. She rose and wobbily made her way to her bed. The PADD with video recording facility was on the bedside table. She used her embroidered handkerchief to help wipe away the tears and make her face presentable. Then she held up the pad and pressed RECORD.
"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager. This message is eyes-only for Commander Chakotay..."
The cargo bay was dark, with the flickering green of the Borg stations providing what little light there was. Seven stood in her usual alcove, head down and eyes closed.
A short, be-whiskered figure came out of the gloom and stood in front of the console. It hesitated, then tapped out a code.
"Regeneration cycle is incomplete." Seven woke to hear the message, and was immediately alert. Her enhanced vision made it easy for her to perceive Neelix standing by her console.
"Neelix. What do you require?" Seven realised that she had only been regenerating for an hour, and it was an unusual matter for even the Captain to wake her from the cycle so early. Neelix had until now kept well away from the cargo bay.
Neelix looked embarrassed. "Seven, do you dream?"
Seven looked around her and stepped out of the alcove. "That is a strange question for this time of night. Regeneration is most efficient when my brain activity is low. Dreaming would negate the purpose of regeneration. Is that what you wished to know?"
Neelix shivered; the cargo bay was not cold, but he felt uncomfortable there. "In a way. Are you hungry?"
"No. I have taken my required food supplements. All I require is regeneration." She managed to make the last sentence slightly pointed.
Neelix put his arm behind Seven and escorted her towards the main corridor. "I know it's late, but there's something that I think you can help me with..."
The unlikely pair wound up in the empty galley. Neelix gestured Seven to a chair, and poured out two glasses of dark scented liquid.
"Argullian coffee. Never fails to keep a Talaxian wide awake and brightly coloured!" He sipped it with enjoyment.
Seven was losing what little patience she had. "I do not understand what this is about. Explain."
Neelix moved towards Seven and dropped his voice conspiratorily. "You and the Captain had a small... disagreement this morning?"
"We resolved our differences. It was of no consequence." Seven made to stand. "I must regenerate. We will talk tomorrow."
"No! Seven, please..." Neelix took her arm briefly, before realising that Seven could throw him over the bar into the cooking area without breaking a sweat. He let go very quickly. "Something happened this evening, something important. I think it is to do with the Captain, and I need someone to advise me. She may be in trouble."
Seven resumed her seat. The possibility of a threat to Janeway had at least got her attention. "What trouble do you mean? Have you alerted Security?"
Neelix shook his head. "That's what I need to talk to you about. I went to bed early this evening -- it has been a busy day, what with one thing and another -- and quickly fell asleep, into a dream. It was a very strange dream, but very real. I saw the face of the Captain; she was very white and still. I saw you in your alcove. And I heard someone telling me..." His voice caught.
"Yes?" Seven was interested by the phenomenon of dreams, but saw nothing of concern.
"It was Kes's voice," Neelix finally said. "She told me that I was needed, that Voyager depended on me to save its crew. She said that I should seek your assistance. And she said..." He thought hard to recall the words. "She said to tell you that when the Captain of a Federation starship admits to being entirely in the wrong, there is more to worry about than when she is biting your head off. I've no idea what she meant by that."
That caught Seven's attention beyond all distraction. "Have you talked to the Captain this afternoon?"
Neelix shook his head. "I've not seen her since breakfast."
Seven rose from the table again, this time with a different purpose. She hit her com-badge. "Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway." There was no response. "Computer, locate the Captain and give her status."
A short pause, then "Captain Janeway is in her quarters. She does not wish to be disturbed."
Neelix looked up at Seven. "What should we do?"
Seven hit her com-badge again. "Seven of Nine to Security. Have a detail meet me at the Captain's quarters."
Janeway was walking around Voyager, as she sometimes did late at night when insomnia set in. Exploring the corners of the ship and finding fixtures that she'd forgotten existed, or maybe even a pair of crewmembers engaged in off-duty activities, always managed to gain her interest. This time, however, it was different. She was on the outside of the ship.
The hull of the ship thudded quietly beneath her feet as she walked over the saucer section. Despite all instinct saying that she should be breathing cold hard vacuum, the environment was cool but comfortable. All around her was the deep blackness of space, not a star to be seen. The only glow came from one of Voyager's running lights on the edge of the saucer. Except -- it was in the wrong place for a running light. Her interest raised, Janeway headed over the curve of the saucer to inspect the light's source. Even in her dreams she liked things to be in their proper places.
It was no running light. A small, blonde-haired figure sat cross-legged on the edge of the saucer, surrounded by a soft glowing halo. She had been looking at a PADD like the one that Janeway had used earlier in the evening, but as Janeway approached the figure placed the tablet down beside her, looked up at the Captain and smiled.
Janeway felt her heart quicken as she recognised the elfin face. "Kes?"
The Ocampan's face seem to brighten further as she welcomed Janeway. "Hello, Kathryn. Come and sit with me."
Janeway sank to her knees beside Kes, and gestured around her. "All this is just a dream, isn't it?"
Kes laughed. "It's a dream, certainly, but why do humans always denigrate dreams? When you stubbed your toe this morning that was 'just' real life. Does it hurt now? Of course not. Why laud the one over the other?"
Janeway acknowledged the point. "Kes, it's so good to see you. I thought that when you left -- that we would never see each other again. What happened?"
The smile on Kes's face became somewhat sad. "Kathryn, on this higher plane we can see all we wish to. I've seen to the most distant point of the Universe, inside the fiercest solar core, through the densest nebula. Those sights are so magnificent, I could gaze upon them for the rest of Time. But we are also given sight into the hearts and minds of mortals; the hurt and despair we see in there can make us wish we were blind."
She reached out to touch Janeway's cheek. "You have been in so much pain, so much darkness these past years. I have been with you all the while, unable to help you, for human wounds are to be healed by human hands and human hearts. Your heart was broken and your soul long-gone; without then you did not wish to live." She gestured at the hull beneath them. "Your body lies under us, between life and death. Even now your crew rushes to aid you. But alone they can't succeed -- you must decide if you wish to go back to them."
Janeway had been looking at her feet as Kes brought her pain to mind, but now raised her gaze to meet that of Kes. "Is this what it is like, after life?"
Kes shrugged. "For some of us, yes. We aren't given to know what awaits each individual."
"But I'm here now -- if I do not choose to go back to life, I would stay here?"
"You would," acknowledged Kes, "but if you did go back to life then your eventual return here wouldn't be certain. People change." She reached into a pocket of her clothing and drew something out. "Tell me what these are, Kathryn."
Janeway peered into Kes's small palm. Four small beads there; command pips.
"Those are the pips of a Starfleet Captain. You know that, Kes."
Kes removed one pip. "And these?"
"Those are the pips of a Starfleet Commander."
"So," Kes deduced, holding up one of the pips, "this is the Captain's pip?"
The mathematician in Janeway rose to answer. "Well no, there's nothing special about that pip by itself, it's the combination of four of them..." Her voice tailed off.
"You felt as if you had died inside," Kes told her, "and that there was nothing left of the Captain Janeway who had left Earth in Voyager. Are you so blind, Kathryn? Captain Janeway has never gone away -- she has changed as the years have passed, but you seem to think that there was one special thing which once made you a Captain that has now gone from you forever."
Kes reached over and affixed the pips one by one to the neck of Janeway's shirt. "You're still a Captain, Kathryn," she said. "All of you, the good and the bad. Let your hurt teach you, learn from it, but there's no reason to let it defeat you." She stood and walked away, out from the saucer into space.
"Wait, Kes!" called Janeway. She tried to start after the Ocampan, but her limbs were as lead. "Will I see you again?"
"Fare well, Kathryn." Kes's voice faded away as her small figure vanished into the blackness.
"Kathryn..." "Kathryn..." "Captain..."
"Captain!" Seven was shaking her shoulders. "Captain, can you hear me?"
Janeway moaned as her head rolled from side to side. Her eyes didn't seem to be working too well, and she had the sickest feeling ever in her stomach, worse even than the morning after her graduation from Starfleet Academy. From far away she heard Seven's voice as two strong arms scooped her up from the bed.
"Emergency transport, two to Sickbay!"
Janeway felt the familiar tingling of the transporter beam.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," came the voice of the Doctor. His tone changed rapidly. "Captain! Put her on the table, Seven." She felt the press of a medical tricorder against her neck. "She has been poisoned -- that's strange, Nembutal, an old barbituate. No-one has used it for over a century, and it's very hard to synthesise correctly."
Janeway almost smiled inwardly. Old-fashioned rituals demanded old-fashioned tools. Then she retched, feeling cold all over. She could feel Seven's hands, hot and firm on her shoulders.
The Doctor's voice was brisk. "She should be fine; I just need to give her..." His voice stopped.
"Doctor?" Seven's voice was detectably anxious, even to Janeway in her current state.
"Someone has removed the treatments for all poisoning cases from my database." The Doctor sounded bewildered. "I don't know who that could have been."
Another voice, Chakotay. "I think I could guess." His shadow bending over her, his hands shaking her. "Kathryn! Wake up!" Janeway tried to tell him to go away, but couldn't get anything more than a moan past her vocal cords. A spasm contorted her body, and impossible pain fired her gut.
The Doctor wasn't giving up. "I'll have to treat her from first principles. We can't make her sick, because that will compromise her airway. Get her on her side; I'll put fluids into her to dilute the poison. This isn't going to be pretty, I'm afraid. And get Mr. Paris out of the Holodeck; I need him here."
Janeway tried to fight as Chakotay's hands rolled her to the side, but her nervous system wasn't having any of it; her arms flopped uselessly. The roaring in her ears grew louder, and a blackness surged over her.
Janeway emerged from a dark and dreamless sleep slowly, reluctantly. She could feel the warmth of a blanket over her, and the firmness of a Sickbay bed underneath. She could also feel the most monumental headache having a vigorous party inside her skull. Her mouth tasted as if something organic had crawled in there and died. A groan escaped from her lips.
The Doctor's voice again. "Ah, the Voyager Poisoner returns." She half-opened her eyes to see him standing by her bedside, arms crossed. Resigned to a lecture, she rolled away from him.
When the Doctor spoke, his voice was unnaturally gentle and kind. "Captain, you are going to be all right. Seven and Neelix found you in time, and Mr. Paris managed to find the right treatment for Nembutal poisoning from an old library collection. There were some nasty side-effects because the drug wasn't properly synthesised, but we countered them. There will be no permanent harm to you."
There were many things that she wanted to say, but her most immediate concern came from her mouth first. "My head..."
"That at least we can do something about." The Doctor gave her a hypospray, and almost immediately the pain receded to become merely annoying. "I know you probably don't feel like talking, but there's someone to see you."
The Doctor walked away as a figure in red and black approached. Janeway managed to focus on Chakotay's face as he sat on a chair next to her. Once again she admired his composure, his unstated power, his gentleness.
"Chakotay," she whispered, "why won't Voyager let me go?"
The question shook the Commander, she saw, but he came straight back at her. "Kathryn, you may as well ask the crew to jump into the lifeboats and abandon ship. Every person on Voyager has followed you through trials they could not have dreamed off when they first boarded the ship. How can they abandon their Captain?"
Janeway groaned. "That Captain is dead, Chakotay. She died over a year ago. I can't follow what she did; I don't have the strength any more. Please, don't make me try."
Chakotay hesitated. Janeway pressed harder. "Chakotay, I beg you. Let me be." Her voice cracked at the end and she rolled over, to hide her starting tears as much as to end the exchange.
She heard Chakotay rise, wordless, and walk out of Sickbay. On the way there was a muted exchange with the Doctor, too quiet for her to hear. Alone, she closed her eyes again.
After a day in Sickbay the Doctor had allowed Janeway back to her quarters. The conditions attached forbade her from accessing ship's data from her console, and the other officers had taken joint action to revoke her command overrides temporarily. Janeway recognised the necessity, but it still irked her slightly.
She had turned to the stars as her comfort, foregoing the company of her books to meditate on what had happened. She had occasionally tried to pick up Vulcan meditation techniques from Tuvok, but with limited success; still, without distractions they were enough to take her mind far from Voyager.
The chime of the door brought her back to the present. "Come."
Tuvok stood in the doorway. Janeway was surprised to see him, but glad nonetheless. "Tuvok! Please, sit down." She indicated the couch beside her.
"Captain." Tuvok took his seat, but his eyes never left Janeway's. She half-smiled as his fingers steepled together in his characteristic pose.
"How is the crew?"
"They are performing well," admitted Tuvok, "but they are concerned for you. We have not announced what happened to you, merely that you have been taken ill. But the crew talks, as you know."
"Tuvok, you need not protect me," Janeway cautioned. "What I did -- for whatever reason, I must bear the consequences. You cannot, and should not, hide the truth from the crew."
"I agree," replied Tuvok surprisingly. "Why did you decide to kill yourself?"
The bluntness of the question struck Janeway like a blow, though she recovered quickly. She thought for a moment, then carefully answered. "I cannot bear to go on as Captain of Voyager. I don't have any more strength."
Tuvok leaned forward to the coffee table, and indicated the photo of Mark there. "May I?"
Janeway nodding her permission, Tuvok picked up the photo and looked at it. He was clearly reading the expressions on their faces, given the intensity of his gaze. Finally he replaced the photo and turned back to Janeway.
"What took your strength from you?" he asked.
A simple question, but not an easy one to answer. Janeway took a while to marshal her thoughts.
"Tuvok, my dear friend. You are the oldest on this ship by many years; you have forgotten more than most of us have learned. Yet have you ever known of a situation like Voyager's where a crew has been marooned decades away from home, with so slim a chance of return?"
Tuvok searched his memory. "Not in Starfleet history. But go back to the 19th Century on Earth, and there are situations which I believe to be analogous. Ships were wrecked on small islands in the middle of vast oceans, and their crews left there without rational hope of rescue."
"And what happened there?" Janeway asked rhetorically. "Disagreements, factions, warring and anarchy. They were lucky if anyone was left alive two years later. Don't you see the parallel? We've had to fight off enemy after enemy -- many of them were only beaten by our blind luck. And we've had our own problems within the ship; Seska, of course, and Voyager was lucky that Suter ended up saving the crew rather than destroying them, but any other of the crew could become like him at any time."
She called up an image of Voyager from her console; not a technical schema, this was an artistic composition of the ship and the soft red of a collapsing red giant star. "All the people within this ship, each with their own concerns, worries and losses. They all have someone to turn to, someone in front of whom they are not afraid to cry, to show fear or despair." The image vanished. "Except the Captain."
Tuvok's face showed increased understanding. "You had no outlet for your fears?"
"I have no way out, Tuvok. The weight of Voyager on my shoulders is simply too much; it crushes me. And Mark..." She could not speak further.
Tuvok reached for Janeway's console and brought up another image. Janeway recognised it as her Security Officer's family. With a small smile she recognised that Vulcan family portraits different little from those on Earth. Tuvok's children were clearly only sitting still under a dire threat from their father, no matter how much Tuvok claimed that Vulcan children were well-behaved.
Tuvok's next pronouncement surprised her. "As Vulcans, we learn to master our emotions so that they do not master us. Yet that does not mean that we have lost the ability to feel. I accepted the loss of my family years ago. But the pain of that loss is like a bat'telh through me. The hurt never rises to the surface for others to see, but it never fades or vanishes either."
Janeway looked searchingly at Tuvok. "How do you bear it? How do you stop the hurt from tearing you apart?"
Tuvok shrugged. "I have my duty hours to forget. I have my free time to remember. As a Vulcan I am given the strength to control my emotions." He looked hard at her. "You are human, Captain, and lack that choice. Your strength must come from outside."
Janeway laughed humourlessly. "Indeed, but from where? My Admiral told me that his door was always open to his captains. Even a wide open door is of limited use if it is decades of travel away. Strength comes from above and is drawn out from below -- I have no-one above me, and too many below."
Tuvok stood. "Captain, I cannot give you an answer. That you must find elsewhere. What I do give you is my strength, my loyalty and my self. You are my captain. I am your officer; I am also your friend."
Janeway stood too. "Thank you for coming, Tuvok." On impulse she reached for his shoulders and kissed his cheek. Tuvok was clearly surprised, but schooled well enough in the ways of humans not to flinch.
"I will be at my station if you have need of me. Live long, Captain, and prosper."
Her next visitor did not come alone. Neelix entered her cabin pushing a small trolley, jugs and dishes clattering on top of it.
"Neelix, it's good to see you." Janeway moved to help him with the trolley but he waved her to her seat.
"We have a proverb on Talaxia," he informed her, clattering dishes around. "Beware of Talaxians bearing blueberry muffins!" The dish placed in front of her had two of the confections, stuffed with ripe berries, and was accompanied by a steaming mug of Neelix's best coffee.
"A wise proverb," Janeway smiled, taking a bite of one muffin. "Mmmmmm... I'm sure that the Doctor would have a fit if he saw me eating these. 'Captain, a woman of your age should keep an eye on her cholesterol level.'" Janeway's impression of the Doctor's admonition was so realistic that Neelix nearly dropped his best jug.
Neelix sat beside her. "Captain, it's good to see you smile like that."
Janeway nodded. "It feels good to smile; I had forgotten what it was like." She put down the remnants of the muffin. "Neelix, I wanted to ask you; how did you and Seven know to come to my cabin?"
Neelix shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. "Well, it was clear that you hadn't had a good day..."
"Yes, and?"
Neelix looked squarely at her. "Captain, do you ever see or hear Kes?"
It was a strange question, but with the events of the previous night not necessarily a surprising one. Janeway looked briefly out of her window at the stars.
"Neelix, I think that even though she had to leave us long ago, she hasn't forgotten us. And you, of all of us, must be ever in her mind." She briefly debated saying more, but something held her back.
Neelix nodded. "Let's say that someone thought you needed a visit."
Janeway let it go at that. "In any case, Neelix, I am grateful. I owe you my life, whatever that means now. Seven too; I must speak with her."
"She's regenerating at the moment," Neelix informed her. "She refused to leave you until it was clear that you would be all right. Even then, Mr. Paris and I had to practically drag her out of Sickbay. She can be quite stubborn when she wants to be. There's much that she's learned from you."
He topped up her coffee. "Captain, why don't you talk to anyone?"
Janeway's forehead creased. "I'm not sure I follow you, Mr. Neelix. I seem to do nothing but talk most days."
"No, not talk. I mean really talk, open yourself up to someone?"
Janeway sighed. She'd already gone over this with Tuvok. "Neelix, the way this 'command' idea works is that you support those underneath you. There is no-one on the ship above me. I simply can't ask anyone in my command for support -- it doesn't work like that. It's the short way to complete breakdown of the command structure, and you saw where that leads when Voyager dealt with Equinox."
Neelix sat back and stared at her. "Forgive my impertinence, Captain, but I'm not in your command -- strictly speaking, anyway. I get the feeling that you realise this, but you've never managed to make the full leap to doing something about it."
Janeway had to admit that Neelix was right. He was, after all, a civilian. While he followed her orders, he didn't have to. And she was undeniably prone to heading to the galley when things were getting on top of her -- it wasn't necessarily just for the food. Or the coffee.
"You have a point Mr. Neelix, but I can't ask you to help me whenever I'm having a bad day. It would be unfair on you."
Neelix smiled, a kind smile. "No Captain, you can't ask. But I can offer, and that's what I want to do." He patted her shoulder and stood to leave. "You know where to find me."
Cargo Bay Two was its usual dark self. Seven stood in her alcove, head bowed beneath the Borg unit's green flickering screen. Janeway moved almost silently between the anonymous containers that littered the bay, eyes fixed on her protegée.
"Hi, Captain." Janeway hadn't notice the small be-horned figure sitting quietly on a crate by the side of the Borg units, and gave a gasp and jump when the chirping voice greeted her. Her eyes made out the face of Naomi Wildman in the half-dark, and she relaxed.
"Hello, Naomi. What are you doing in here?" Janeway had never found herself able to do anything other than melt in the presence of Samantha Wildman's daughter. While bringing Seven into the fold had been an effort similar to dealing with a determined teenager, Naomi inevitably set the Captain's heart fluttering.
"I'm waiting for Seven. She was real tired when she came to regenerate, so when she finishes I'm going to take her to the Holo-deck to play."
Janeway smiled. "I'm sure she'd like that. That's very thoughtful of you." She hesitated. "Can I wait with you?"
"Sure!" Naomi cleared a space beside her, and Janeway took the seat gratefully. The two of them talked softly, not wishing to disturb Seven.
"My mom says that you've been ill," offered Naomi, giving the Captain a penetrating scan from feet to head. She'd clearly been learning her stares from Seven. "You look tired, too. Is being a Captain really hard work?"
Janeway leaned her head back against the bulkhead and stretched her feet. "Sometimes it can be, Naomi, harder than you think that you can bear." She paused. "Seven tells me that you want to be a Captain one of these days; is that right?"
Naomi's eyes sparkled. "Yes -- I know it'll take a long time, maybe a year or even two, but I'd really like to do it. What's it like to sit in the Captain's chair?"
Despite her tiredness, Janeway laughed quietly. "You'll do all right, Naomi, if you keep up that determination. Well, between you and me --" she leaned conspiratorily over to the young K'tarian, "-- the Captain's chair isn't very well padded. If you're in it for an hour or more, your backside starts to go numb."
Naomi giggled. "Is that why Captains walk around a lot on the bridge?"
"Believe it," Janeway confirmed. "And, of course, to make sure that the bridge officers aren't playing kadis kot on their consoles."
Naomi looked suspiciously at her Captain. "Are you teasing me?"
"Not a bit of it," Janeway assured her, though the smile on her face told another story. "Tuvok is a terrible one for playing games when he should be repelling intruders. And it's not even as if he's very good at kadis kot."
"Seven would never do a thing like that," Naomi observed, loyal as ever to her pal.
"No," admitted Janeway, "I've never had to worry about Seven enjoying herself on duty." Except when Harry Kim is around, whispered a treacherous voice in her mind. Janeway had to work hard to suppress her own giggle.
Regeneration cycle complete, reported the computer, and Seven stepped out of her alcove. She saw her two visitors sitting against the bulkhead.
"Captain. Naomi Wildman." Seven looked from one to the other, unsure how to proceed. The wide gap between her visitors in the command hierarchy had thrown her for a loop.
Janeway helped her out. "Crewman Wildman, could you find Mr. Tuvok and ask him to transfer my Holodeck hours for this week to you?"
"Yes, Captain!" Naomi gathered her stuff. "See you in a bit, Seven." She trotted out of the cargo bay.
"You seem to be well, Captain." Seven's assessment was in her usual tone, but the next part wasn't. "I am -- glad you are all right. I was -- concerned for you."
Janeway struggled to her feet. Halfway up, Seven's hand gripped hers and finished the ascent for her.
"Thank you, Seven." Janeway took a moment to gaze at Seven's face; smooth as butter, piercing eyes, and expression that for once was far from the usual poker face.
"I do not understand," Seven offered. "You tried to end your life, and yet you did it in an inefficient way."
Janeway had to laugh at that, cutting her mirth short as she saw that she had offended the young woman. "Oh Seven, there's so much we can still teach each other." She rubbed her nose as she considered what to say.
"I've shown you many moral dilemmas while you've been with us. In fact, you've caused quite a few of them -- but don't think I'm not grateful. Until now, the decisions you've seen me make have been about other people; crew members, or alien races." She thought back to the Doctor's near-psychosis. "At times, you or others from the crew have changed my mind." She thought about Equinox, when she had come perilously close to madness. "Other times, I took only my own counsel, and sometimes I was wrong."
"I'm not going to explain to you now why I make the decision I did. That's for another time. It's enough to say that the decision I made was wrong -- so wrong." The quiet admission echoed through the cargo bay as Janeway searched for her next words. "You gave me a second chance, Seven, though I deserved none. Thank you."
Seven too was finding it hard to put her thoughts into words. "Captain, you took me from the Borg. You fought my will; you made me an individual again. I have a new life, and you have risked yourself and the ship to save that life. How could I ignore you when you are in need? To do so would not be human."
Janeway felt tears in her eyes, and took Seven in her arms. "Dear Seven." She felt the young woman's arms around her, hesitant but comforting. "I've let you down, but I'll do all I can to make it up to you."
Later that evening Janeway was in bed and reading an early 21st Century novel. The Doctor had been around and pronounced her system free of drugs. He had even been understanding about the disappearance of his poisons database, at least when Janeway showed him where it had been hidden.
The chronometer showed that it was getting late. Janeway knew that what she had to do tomorrow would tax all the strength she had. Carefully marking the page with a bookmark she turned down the lights, drew up the covers and closed her eyes. For the first time in months, Kathryn Janeway's sleep brought peace.
Change of shift on the Enterprise next morning found Kathryn Janeway dressed immaculately, emerging from the turbolift spot on time. Chakotay was making his closing entry in the log as she entered. He looked up and smiled at her; a kind, knowing smile. "Captain on the bridge!"
"Good morning," Janeway acknowledged her bridge crew. "Mr. Kim, could you take the conn from Commander Chakotay? Commander, my ready room if you please."
The bridge crew reshuffled as Chakotay and Janeway entered the ready room. Janeway closed the door and ensured that it was locked. She took a seat at her conference table and gestured Chakotay to do the same.
"Chakotay," she started, slightly unsure of where to go. "I can't lead Voyager any longer." He started to protest and she held up a hand. "Please, let me finish. The crew cannot respect a Captain who has tried to kill herself and abandon them, no matter what the reasons. And the Captain herself doesn't have the strength to carry the weight of this ship. Maybe I can still do everything that the job of a Captain requires, but I cannot be what a Captain must be."
Janeway reached to her collar and removed her fourth pip. "Chakotay, in any other starship you would long ago have had your own command. You have earned your rank many times over, through your courage, your loyalty, your sacrifices and your wisdom." She stood and walked around the table; Chakotay stood to meet her. "Commander Chakotay, I award you the rank of Starfleet Captain, and the command of the USS Voyager. May you serve her in the future as well as you have done in the past." Her hands reached up to his collar to affix the Starfleet pip next to the Maquis insignia.
Chakotay's hands caught hers, gently but firmly. He drew her to him until their heads were almost touching.
"Kathryn, several years ago the Admirals at Starfleet were looking for a Captain for a ship that was designed to go out and explore the farthest reaches of space. Although I doubt they had reaches this far in mind, they chose a Captain who had the courage to go where no-one had gone before. She had the knowledge and wisdom to guide the ship in its searches for new stars, new life, and new civilisations. She had the strength and daring to take on and defeat enemies from the farthest stars and from within her own ship. She had the soul to care for her crew, the will to lead them even in the darkest times and the spirit to inspire them to follow and be like her. Kathryn, as a Maquis I disagreed with nearly everything that Starfleet did. Yet in their choice of Voyager's Captain, I can't fault them one iota."
"Kathryn, you're a person as well as a leader. All people have weakness to complement their strengths. Look around your bridge crew; each one of them has failings you know well. Why should you be the only one free of them?"
Janeway found her voice. "I can fail, I know that. But a Captain can't let the crew down like I have now. Listen to what you said: I had wisdom, I had soul and will. They are long gone. I can barely manage to exist from day to day, unthinking and rudderless."
Chakotay's face was sad. "Have I let down the crew any less? Remember my pursuit of Seska; when you put me on report, I told you what that meant to me. I had let you down then, and I have let you down now. I am as responsible for my Captain as for my crew."
"Seska was different," protested Janeway. "She was an enemy of the ship -- you pursued her and bettered her, even if it was at the cost of respect from me. And you learned from that battle, became a better Commander..."
"So I did," acknowledged Chakotay, "and so will you be a better Captain for having fought an equally deadly foe and won -- no matter what the cost." He prised open her hand, removed the pip and fixed it back onto Janeway's collar. "My Captain, my dear friend. Do you think that I, who took an oath of loyalty to you when our ships came together, should give you anything less now?"
Janeway was crying now, and Chakotay embraced her.
"It's not going to be easy," he told her, holding her close as she sobbed. "But we will get you through this. Trust us."
"Chakotay, you can't... you don't understand. I'm so lost, so alone!" she cried. "I go to my cabin at the end of a day, and there's a huge black void there. I can't even motivate myself to get to the Holodeck. I rip the throats out of crew who just happen to be passing, then tear myself apart with guilt..." She choked on the tears and couldn't continue, instead clutching Chakotay to her.
Chakotay knew that words were no longer important. He held Janeway, gently stroking her hair and feeling her body shudder with the sobs. For the two of them, Voyager ceased to exist; all that mattered was that the other was there.
Finally Janeway had cried herself dry, and looked up at her Commander through red-edged eyes. She sniffed and wiped her sleeve across her face. Chakotay's kind smile caused Janeway to giggle self-consciously, a smile breaking over her face like the sun at dawn.
"We'd better sort ourselves out before going back on the bridge," she remarked wryly. "People might talk." She reached up and stroked Chakotay's cheek.
"That they might," Chakotay agreed, arms on Janeway's shoulders.
"It'd be very bad for crew discipline," Janeway observed, her other hand sliding up Chakotay's back towards his neck.
"Terrible," acknowledged Chakotay, stooping his head towards Janeway's lips. Janeway met him halfway, five years of love spilling out over them. They twined around each other, desperately kissing and exploring each other, until Chakotay came up for air -- and a more romantic location.
"Emergency transport, two bodies, to the Captain's cabin." They matched lips once more as their bodies shimmered out of existence.
End of shift, and the galley was bustling with hungry crew members in search of something special. Neelix was in his element, dashing back and forth to produce a steady stream of peculiar but delicious dishes.
"Good evening captain," offered the quiet ensign as Janeway wandered in, PADD in hand.
"Hello, Rikka. I hear that you did a good job yesterday with that warp containment field -- well done." Janeway patted the ensign on her shoulder as she passed. "Neelix, what concoctions have you got for us this evening?"
"Well," Neelix offered, "I was in the middle of doing some gagh for B'Elenna; but there's always the Traachian Ga-Tard..."
Janeway took the bowl to her favourite corner table. Chakotay was there already, his uniform changed to casuals.
"Hello Kathryn," he welcomed her. "Come eat, and tell me what's new."
Voyager streaks through the Delta Quadrant, getting ever closer to home. Though decades of travel remain, the crew hold out hope. Their belief in their Captain unshaken, they know that while she still has a breath in her body she will not abandon them.
In another space altogether, an blond-haired elfin face watches Voyager disappear into the distance, and smiles.
"Until the next time, Kathryn."
You might love this, hate this, or be utterly indifferent. I have no idea. Anyway, J/C'ers should get at least something out of it...
Let's get one thing clear; I really like Janeway's character. She carries enough kick-ass to keep Voyager in one piece through more continued hostility than any Enterprise has had to put up with. She has the leadership to motivate and protect the crew, at the same time (mostly) holding true to her Starfleet principles, and to provide support for those crew members whom she sees are having trouble holding up. It's noticeable that most of these tend to be her officers, along with Seven of course.
Still, even the strongest tree may be torn down by a gale when it does not bend to the wind, and Janeway has not done a lot of bending. We saw her reaction when she got that "Dear Jane" letter from Mark. (Kudos to Kate Mulgrew for that piece of acting, by the way.) Just for a moment we saw all the way through the ablative armour on the USS Janeway to her soft and fuzzy warp core. She may be a Starfleet captain, but she's also very human.
Attempted suicide? A bit out of character, surely? Well, no, not in my opinion. The most unlikely people can wake up one day and find that the world has got too much to bear. We had something like this in Extreme Risk when Torres seemed bent on self-destruction; if it can bite a Klingon, it can certainly make a tasty snack out of a human.
Suicide (and, to a lesser extent, self-harm) are taboo subjects to many Western societies. That's why I rated this story as I did. For what it's worth, I think that a lot of crap is talked about suicide, from both sides of the fence. The simple fact is that some people reach a point where they can't bear to go on living any more; telling them that things are certain to get better, or that they're just being selfish, does not help them. The best thing you can do for a friend who is that deep in despair is to give them your time; let them tell you what they're going through. Don't tell them what to do or feel; they're the ones suffering, not you.
An excellent source of information about suicidal and despairing feelings is at The Samaritans.
If you feel that it's outrageous having this sort of thing online where impressionable young minds might discover it, you're entitled to your opinion, and I respect you for sticking to it, but this story is staying up. I'd consider it a form of flattery to be blacklisted by CyberSitter, Net Nanny etc., though a mistake on their part -- and if you want this story off the Net, I'd like to hear a reasoned justification.
I'd be interested to hear what people think about this story, anyway. Please do email me if you've a spare moment. All criticism (and praise!) welcomed.
And yes, I do like the Indigo Girls, since you ask. :-)
Adrian Hilton, June 2000
UPDATE: as of late June, I've discovered that Lor and Kathryn have penned a story "Suicide Solution" along similar lines to this.
ANOTHER UPDATE: I've now been privileged to read "Suicide Solution"; a superb piece. Much respect to Kathryn and Lor. Thanks to Caffey for pointing me at the story.
Web pages maintained by Adrian Hilton
No copyright infringement of Paramount's Star Trek: Voyager series is intended; this story is in appreciation of the universe that Star Trek has opened up to the world for the past 30 years.
This story is released under the OpenContent License version 1.0. Briefly, this means that you're free to copy, distribute and even change it, but you must keep it under the OpenContent license. If you want to go beyond the terms of the license, email me -- I'm a reasonable chap!