2.) Allemande, First Repetition



Jean-Luc could hear her coming, and he knew exactly who this “her” was. Kathryn Janeway had a unique tone to her walk, a sound that emanated from her intensity as a performer and as a person. Her strides were quick and long, her pace furious, and her emotions… well, Jean-Luc did not want to think of Kathryn Janeway’s emotions in that moment. He knew it would be simply a matter of seconds until he faced his Concertmistress head on, and he was not looking forward to the inevitable spat that would follow. Janeway was a passionate woman, essential for the job she was required to do, but a pain in the ass to keep happy.

Kesslyn was gone; Janeway’s protégé had been slipping as an orchestral leader for months now, and when the young woman handed in her resignation Jean-Luc accepted with no hard feelings. Kes was better suited to solo work, more free in her rhythms and interpretations than in the confines of the symphony life he knew so well. She had recently been proposed a contract for solo work in Geneva which would be impossible to accept while playing in the Paris Symphonia, and requested discharge from her position to pursue her new career. But Janeway did not yet know the truth, and did not yet know that Kesslyn had asked Jean-Luc not to keep quiet about her departure until the regrouping of the Symphonia. Not only was Janeway going to be pissed at him, doubtless she would be quite angry with the young woman herself for not having the courage to say goodbye; if there was one thing Kathryn Janeway despised, it was lack of character, and Jean-Luc recognized Kesslyn’s weakness in the eyes of her mentor.

The time was approaching; Jean-Luc could hear Kathryn’s footfalls just meters away, he took a deep breath in preparation; this was not going to be a pretty sight. The door flew open with a bang, the knob of the door hitting squarely against the tasteful crème walls of Picard’s studio to reveal the steaming form of Kathryn Janeway, a torrent of anger and resentment bubbling with fury just under her seemingly calm façade.
Her voice when she spoke was a low grumble, the dangerous timbre sending shivers down Jean-Luc’s spine, though he hated to admit it. Her words, composed as they were, betrayed Kathryn’s rage to all who knew her well; her eyes were set to kill.

“Where is Kesslyn” Janeway asked, dripping saccharine, “and who the fuck is Annika Hansen?” she lowered her voice; frightening.

“Kesslyn took a position in Geneva for solo work, and Annika is the new Principal” Jean-Luc replied, trying desperately to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

“And why was I not informed?” Kathryn asked, drawing closer to Picard as she spoke.

“Kes asked me not to disclose her departure until the regrouping today.”

“Surely, I can understand not letting the general musicians know, but this effects my performance Jean-Luc and you damned well know that! I need time to find a balance, every note I play is delicately tuned to the symphonia. My Principals affect me! If I am off balance, the entire symphony is off balance, including you Jean-Luc, so don’t play innocent. Do you remember when Isabella caught flu and missed our performance in Berlin two years ago? Do you remember how utterly disastrous that was? Her entire section was misled, Henri’s a fine young man but he wasn’t and still is not ready to lead a section. I missed my cue in the Bizet, and the Bass section, God bless them, completely lost it and dropped out! Do you really want an entire season like that? Tell me now and I’ll go straight home, I’m not fucking around here.”

“Kathryn, calm down.”

“Don’t bloody start with me! I’m not in the fucking mood.”

Jean-Luc took a deep breath, composed his voice, and spoke calmly, “Fine, but you must trust me in this instance Kathryn; whether you like it or not, I am in control of this symphony and the musicians inside of it, you included. I know Kesslyn’s departure is difficult for you and I understand your anger, but Annika is the most qualified Cellist I have come across in years, if ever. In fact, I’d say she rivals even you in passion. When she auditioned I was brought to tears, you are the only other who has that power. She is good for the symphonia; she stays.”
“I don’t like it” Kathryn replied, wary.

“I know you don’t, but give her a chance to play. Even if you never like her, you cannot help loving her music.”
Kathryn had no choice but to relent, “if she stays, I want to know everything about her before we begin; the rehearsal can wait. First and foremost, where is she from, what is her training and what is that thing above her eye?”
Jean-Luc smiled to himself. Kathryn Janeway was a tough woman to please, but she knew when to give in, and ultimately, she knew to trust his judgment. If he said the girl was good, she had no choice but to acknowledge the truth.

“Annika was in a car accident when she was six years old, her entire family was killed; she was the sole survivor. She was instantly thrown into a coma, and didn’t regain consciousness until she was eighteen.”


“What?” Kathryn yelped, surprised. Annika couldn’t be a day over twenty nine, if she had been in a coma until she was eighteen, she had only been playing for eleven years!

“I know, I know” Picard stalled her, “it’s remarkable, and I have a feeling you were right about her age, Annika is only twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-eight years old? It’s difficult to get into this symphony at twenty-eight even if you’ve played your entire life; she’s only been playing the cello for ten years!”

“And not only that, but she’s singularly the best cellist I’ve had the pleasure of hearing” Jean-Luc said wryly.

“Impossible.”

“On the contrary, my dear, have her play for you before we start the practice, see for yourself.”

“You can count on it” Kathryn Janeway replied. She could not afford to rely on Jean-Luc’s word alone in regards to her new Principal. At this point she had no doubt that the girl was good, but in order to adjust her own playing she needed to hear Annika for herself.

“And her training?”

“She studied at Julliard for six years, and then opened her own studio.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that, at least” Janeway chuckled softly and then became quiet.

Jean-Luc noticed Kathryn’s contemplative silence, but was not fooled, her thoughts were always racing. “I can see a question in your eyes Kathryn, what is it you want to know?” the Conductor asked Janeway.

“The metal… above her eye and on her hand.”

“Ah, yes, it gives her a unique appearance, doesn’t it? As I mentioned before she was in a car crash, what I didn’t have a chance to explain were the effects of the accident.”

“By all means, continue Jean-Luc” Kathryn prompted him.

“Annika’s eye was taken out by a piece of glass from the windshield and her skull above that eye was split open. At the hospital they put in a new eye, and as you know from reading all those dull science books you’re so fond of, the technology nowadays enabled them to install a new, functioning eye into her skull, though it only sees in black and white. They were able to close the split in her head through intensive surgery, but the metal you see above her eye is needed to keep the bone closed and to anchor the eye. As for the metal in her hand? Every bone in her left hand was shattered on impact, her hand is held together by screws and skin-like warm metal bands running down her fingers and past her wrist; she let me feel them, it is truly amazing, it feels just like skin, but impossibly smoother.”

“My god. But how can she play?” Kathryn was stunned. The left hand is the most important to any stringed instrumentalist, it is the hand that rides the fingerboard and finds the notes; that is the hand that must travel at the speed of light.

“In my opinion Kathryn, she is able to play by pure strength of will, there is no other explanation.”

This girl was an enigma, and as Jean-Luc said, even if she never liked her, God be damned if she wasn’t going to hear her play!.

“Thank you Jean-Luc, for your patience and kindness, as always. I’ll take into advisement what you said. I have to get back though, I don’t want to give the players the idea that their Concertmistress doesn’t care about them. I’ll see you in an hour?”

“Four o’clock sharp” he replied, but Kathryn was already gone.

                                                 

3.) Allemande, Final Repetition

Annika could see Kathryn coming; the woman was a fireball and sent little shivers down her spine. Such a petite woman, but the strength, the intensity carried inside her, it was overwhelming and quite a contradiction to her physical appearance. And her physical appearance…Annika had to remind herself that it was irrelevant, everything about Kathryn Janeway was irrelevant and inefficient and made her ground her teeth together in frustration. The fact that Annika agreed to be a part of this symphonia for the sole reason of Kathryn Janeway was irrelevant; the fact that a solo performance Kathryn had given at Julliard her freshman year had driven her to become the musician she was today was irrelevant; and this line of thought, Annika reminded herself, was completely and inexcusably inefficient. Kathryn Janeway could not be allowed to disrupt her to this extent; Annika Hansen would not let anyone undermine her order, and Kathryn Janeway was certainly no exception.

The woman approached, drawing closer and closer to invade Annika’s space and thoughts, obviously on a mission of some sort, and Annika had the sinking feeling it involved her. She did not stop playing though, her Cello gripped tightly in hand, fingers moving furiously across the finger board, Annika would pause for no-one for her music was more important than any human being ever could be. If Kathryn wanted to interrupt her she was not going to help; let the woman struggle on her own.

Janeway drew up right beside her, no sense of personal decorum prohibiting the closeness; Kathryn’s hand was on the back of Annika’s chair, her eyes bore into the top of her skull. Annika knew she was expected to drop everything and devote her attention to the woman before her, but she did no such thing, instead she continued on as if Kathryn did not exist.

“Could you stop playing for just one second?” Kathryn asked, impatience colouring her voice.

Continuing to play, Annika replied, “What for?” she did not once look at Janeway.

“I’d like to talk to you” Kathryn began, but was cut off by Annika.

“You may talk here.”

“But I want to talk to you in private” Janeway continued, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. Annika was deliberately being difficult, she could tell.

“Anything you must say to me, you may say in the presence of our colleagues. I do not want to be alone with you right now Kathryn Janeway, I am busy.”

“No-one is too busy for me” Janeway commanded, expecting Annika to bow to her will; she would have to work much harder than that to accomplish what she wanted, Annika thought.

“Your arrogance will bring you trouble” Annika replied, slightly amused and slightly annoyed by Kathryn’s presumptuousness. “I have to practice the Vivaldi, and I must get to know my section-mates. Perhaps I can help you if you tell me what it is you need to talk about?”

“I need to hear you play before we begin” Kathryn demanded, undeterred by Annika’s stubborn nature. “You have fifteen minutes to learn the names and personal information you need about your section-mates, and then I expect to meet you in the conservatory behind stage left, about thirty paces down the hall, right hand side. The door will say, ‘Conservatoire Janeway’ it’s my private studio in the theatre, we won’t be interrupted.” Janeway turned around and started to leave, she looked back once and said, “Oh, and Annika, don’t be late” Janeway smiled brilliantly, “or I can promise you, you will regret it.” And then she was gone; Annika could not suppress the shiver that ran down her spine and up her neck, putting all the little hairs on end, causing her to gasp in a breath. Perhaps she would be late after all.



______________________________


Fifteen minutes later Kathryn arrived at her conservatory fully expecting Annika to be sitting there before her, ready to play what Kathryn asked of her. Instead, she was greeted by an empty chair, a Cello case, sheet-music, and a note:

I was deterred. Feel free to peruse my belongings, I know you will anyway. I shall be back in ten minutes.
-Annika Hansen

Kathryn had no choice except to wait, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it. Annika had nerve, too much nerve for a musician reporting to her; she would be dealt with, and soon. Kathryn looked up through the glass of the conservatory roof; she thought of Annika, she smiled. That girl really did need to learn a few lessons and Kathryn wasn’t going to let anyone do the teaching but herself.