The viewscreen of the USS Tyrens was streaked with startrails as it showed the way towards yet another diplomatic event. This Nebula-class vessel was the new public relations factory for the Federation and therefore attended nearly every important happening--scientific or social--in the reachable quadrants. An occasional confrontation in the neutral zone or shore leave on an uncharted planet were the only breaks in the monotony. Still, it was good duty, and most volunteered for it.
The hum of the warp engines settled into her bones as Kathryn kept an eye on the console at her left. Her legs were crossed, right over left, with her right leg swinging to some uneven internal rhythm. Even during attack, she maintained her relaxed pose, which astonished inexperienced officers. It was meant to keep herself focused, but also served to reassure those around her. It's more difficult to lose your cool when your captain appears completely relaxed.
The tactical station behind her beeped with it's own pulse. Her many years on a bridge made it so that she could almost guess what was on the operator's console based on the change in pitch and frequency of the sounds. Her uncanny ability to know what was there made whoever was manning it a little more attentive. Nothing like a little trick like that to keep all of them on their toes. Thompson figured it out, though, and on one shift programmed the console to act like sensors detected a large ship. When the officer at tactical hesitated in telling her what was out there, she jumped up to the console herself. A large picture of her was on the display. The first officer's sense of humor was coming along nicely, thank you.
She looked over at Kaviski, her best pilot. Very different from Tom Paris. She smiled a little as she saw his shoulders straighten under her gaze, as she knew they would. She also knew that he was now openly bragging that he had not been called onto the carpet even once, unlike the stories about her Voyager pilot. She would have to come up with a reason to dress him down soon. Swagger was a good thing in a pilot, just not too much. The bridge officers had become a team now, no stars allowed.
Thinking about Tom Paris reminded her of the Tyrens' big party before their last Terra shore leave. She had told them of her last day in the Delta Quadrant, her last happy moment with the Voyager crew. They knew the folklore that Voyager had become. They had all seen the interviews with her crew and the video feeds of their reunions with family. She remembered their attentive faces, so obviously eager to take her story and make it legend. She talked about the surprise at being thrust home so quickly. She wanted to make it real to them, but on that day she realized that it would be impossible. Voyager had passed into mythology. She never told another story.
Next to her sat Lt. Commander Radiv, a vulcan training up for a first officer's job somewhere. Thompson was covering the second shift these days. She had commanded the Tyrens for nearly two years now, with transfers in and out as officers gained experience and were promoted to fill the gaps left by the war with the Dominion. Starfleet was finally catching up.
She leaned into her captain's chair, stretching the muscles in her back a little. She smiled unconsciously as she reveled in the feeling of being precisely where she wanted to be, doing precisely what she wanted to be doing.
Tactical beeped in the rhythm that indicated a hail.
"Captain, I have a message from Starfleet, priority one."
"Onscreen."
"It is marked for your eyes only, Captain."
Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "Very well. Send it to my console in the ready room." She stood and strode quickly towards the door. "Mr. Radiv, you have the bridge."
"Aye, Captain."
Kathryn stepped into the room that had become more home to her than her own quarters. This was a much larger ship than Voyager and required more of her time and attention. For some reason, it has also become Starfleet's most popular training ground. She spent a lot of time breaking in cadets fresh from the academy which meant more hand-holding than she did on Voyager. She stopped to get some coffee on the way to her desk. There were very few priority one messages from Starfleet that could be faced without coffee.
She sat down and swivelled the screen towards her. She called up the message and entered her personal access codes.
"Captain Janeway." It was Admiral Paris.
"Admiral. What can I do for you?"
"We need the Tyrens here as quickly as you can manage it."
Kathryn turned to the other console and called up coordinates. "It's about 36 hours at maximum warp." She turned back to the Admiral's face. "What can we expect?"
"There's a Borg cube parked by our moon. We've been trying to negotiate, but they will only speak to you personally. We would appreciate your making all speed."
"Are they attacking?" Her voice cracked and then threatened to fail her.
"No, not yet. Seems they want to talk first."
"Have you tried beaming someone onboard, checking it out?"
"They have some sort of particle beam that scatters the signals."
"Send me whatever scans you have. I'd like to be prepared for whatever it is."
"We don't have much." Paris turned to his right to speak to someone. When he turned back, he said, "They're on the way."
"Thank you, Admiral."
"All good speed, Captain, all good speed."
The screen snapped to blackness. It was then Kathryn realized she was shaking. Every part of her was shaking. She focused enough to grab her coffee mug in both hands to keep the liquid from going all over her desk. She forced herself to breathe. Deep breaths. In, out. In, out. After a minute or two, she took one final breath and squared her shoulders. She knew they were waiting anxiously on the bridge. "Janeway to Radiv."
"Radiv here."
"Set course for Terra, maximum warp."
Only his being a vulcan kept the surprise out of his voice. "Aye, Captain. Terra at maximum warp."
"Give me an ETA when you have it, Commander."
"Aye, Captain.
She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the console. She acknowledged the travel time of 34 hours and 27 minutes from the bridge without moving.
After a time the muscles in her arms began to complain and she looked down at the mug she had a stranglehold on between her palms. She bent her head and closed her eyes.
Finally, she stood and moved to the door. On her way through the bridge, she distractedly informed conn that she would be in her quarters if needed.
******
She stood in the middle of her living room, staring at the painting above the bookcase, and realized she still had the mug in her hand. She shook her head to clear the haze and put the mug in the replicator. The tunic and undershirt came off in one motion as she walked through the bedroom, the clothing discarded somewhere near the chair. After a long shower, she pulled on an old robe and after checking with the bridge to see that they were on course and on time, she ordered a large whiskey and water and headed for the couch. She called for some music and sat down.
Half of the stinging liquid disappeared in one swig. She stared for some time at the painting, squinting to make the colors blur together, hoping to keep her body from reacting to the memories. After taking in the second half of the drink, her gaze moved to a box on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, designed to look like a book. She had sealed it after her last trip home. That part of her life didn't exist out here.
She stood a little unsteadily and retrieved another drink. She found herself in front of the bookshelf, swirling her drink so the ice cubes clinked in rhythm to the music. After another half-drink, she leaned down and picked up the box between thumb and index finger. She straightened up and took a sidestep to keep from falling. After the world came back from its spin, she wandered back to the couch and sat down again, setting the drink and the box on the table, side by side. After contemplating it for another stretch of time and downing the last of the second drink, she pressed a button on the front and called out an access code in a low hazy voice.
Inside were the two padds from Seven. But it wasn't really the padds that she was afraid of. It was what was under them, peeking around the edges. The minutes clicked by as she sat staring at it. After another hour and another drink, she finally reached in and pulled out the padds and pushed them to one side. She pulled the paper out of the box and unfolded it, her eyes caressing every stroke, every curve that she knew so well. It was a charcoal of Seven, Phoebe's going-away present two years ago. Last year, when she had finally opened the gift, she had not been prepared for the shock. Fortunately, it had been on a day off when she had decided to face the demons and get it over with. She ended up taking an extra day for the hangover.
She touched the paper carefully, tracing the line of her hip, over her buttock. The drawing was so much more real than any video or digital image could ever be. Seven lay stretched out on her right side, partially covered by a sheet. Her shoulders were on the bed and her hips were turned toward the artist. It looked uncomfortable, but Kathryn recognized the pose. Something about the way her implants restricted her movement made it the most comfortable position for her to sleep. Kathryn passed her finger over the cleft of her chest, remembering how it cushioned her head on many a night. Seven's head rested on a long arm, her face softened by sleep. Her left hand was spread out on her stomach beneath her full splayed-out breasts.
Kathryn's body flinched from the memory of her touch. Her heart ached. It was a perfect representation of Seven--a sensual innocent, oblivious to her effect on those around her.
And now, months after she had convinced herself that there were no more tears, they dripped off her bare feet and rolled onto the carpet. That part of her life was behind her. She kept telling herself that. It had kept her going. Now it amazed her how close to the surface the pain was. How acute it was. It overwhelmed her.
Even so, she was careful not to let any of her tears land on the table.
******
"Take spot 38 in the formation, Mr. Kaviski."
"Aye, Captain."
"Hail the flagship."
"They are responding."
"Onscreen." Kathryn gripped the arms of her chair tightly before standing.
The face of an exhausted Admiral Paris filled the screen. The relief in his voice was obvious. "Captain. Glad to see you. As you can see, the cube is in orbit around the moon, keeping it between themselves and Terra."
"Confirmed. Have you had any more --"
She felt the strangeness of molecular breakdown as a Borg transporter took hold. She could see and hear the chaos beginning to erupt around her as she disappeared.
She materialized in the main control room of the Borg cube. It had more light than she remembered, seemed a little less mechanical. The limited scans they had of the cube had told her that there were no real borg on this vessel, only humaniods. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as she looked around.
"Welcome, Captain Janeway. It's good to see you again," the cheery voice of the EMH resounded. He stepped out of the shadows with some sort of scanning device.
Surprise mingled with shock and nerves jangled by a day and a half of emotional warfare rendered her speechless.
"Glad to see you, too, Doctor," the EMH said airily. "I see that your time on the Tyrens has done nothing for your manners, Captain. Now, hold still." He held out the device and ran an extended scan over her, checking and rechecking the results.
After a moment, she finally found her voice. "I can see that your time on a Borg cube has done nothing for you bedside manner."
The scanner finally beeped with what seemed to be an affirmative sound. "Very good, Captain. You are the real Captain Janeway."
"Was there any question of that, Doctor?"
"You don't know the half of it. You've lost a little weight, though. That's not good. Does your new chief medical officer allow you to run yourself to the ground like this?"
She was about to provide a retort when she heard a familiar voice from off to the right and she snapped to attention. "Do not attempt to board this vessel. Captain Janeway will be returned unharmed." It sent shivers up her spine.
She wouldn't really be sure until she saw her. Touched her. She walked over to where she thought the voice came from. She could make out several figures at a console, working the various controls. None of them looked like Seven. She leaned over the rail, squinting in the darkness. The voice had stopped. Then she felt a tingle in the nape of her neck. She turned around slowly, back towards the EMH.
He was attempting to show Seven the results of his scan, but her eyes were locked on Kathryn. On Kathryn's eyes. The world stopped.
"Captain," she finally said.
Her face was still in shadow and Kathryn stepped towards her, not really knowing that she was moving. She swallowed hard. "Seven."
They stood face to face, time clicking by without notice. Kathryn wanted to hug her more than anything, but something stopped her. There was something in Seven's expression that kept her rooted to the spot. The EMH seemed to be talking about something, but neither of them took notice of it.
Someone stepped up to the platform. "Queen, they have dispatched fighter ships. They are attacking."
Kathryn did not hesitate. "Janeway to Admiral Paris. I am unhurt. Call off the attack. Please acknowledge."
"Paris here. Confirm protocol four delta."
"Affirmative, Admiral. Code alpha rho thirty-seven. Call off the attack."
Kathryn had not moved her gaze from Seven's.
"They're moving off, Queen."
Seven nodded curtly and waved away the assistant and the EMH. "This way, Captain." She turned and stepped away from the bridge.
They passed down a busy corridor to a room clearly patterned on a captain's ready room. Except there was no place to sit down. All of the consoles were set for someone standing up, like the Astrometrics lab on Voyager. There was also nothing personal here, nothing that told you this room belonged to anyone in particular.
Seven brought up a display on one of the screens and then turned and stood at attention with her hands clasped behind her back.
"Species 8472 has infiltrated Starfleet with the aid of the Romulans. There is a fleet of their ships headed for the Alpha Quadrant. More precisely, coordinates 0,0. The Romulans have assisted them in developing the technology to move in and out of fluidic space at will at any location." She reached over and changed the display. "The doctor and I have developed scanning technology to identify the imposters. We also have several methods for combating them, but it will require the resources of the Federation to implement them. Because of the delay in your arrival, we do not have much time. Our analysis indicates that they will arrive in less than 48 hours."
Kathryn forced herself to listen to the words. Somehow all she could focus on was the implant over her left eye.
"Captain?"
Kathryn cleared her throat. "Why didn't you just tell them out there?"
"We attempted to communicate with Starfleet, but they did not listen. We believe that Species 8472 has placed imposters at the highest levels. I sent for you because you are the one human who cannot fool me." Seven raised her chin and her voice softened. "I know that you are the real Captain Janeway."
"I see. And you want me to convince them?"
"You must convince them. The Federation will not survive their attack." Seven stood for a moment, then tilted her head to the right, considering the woman before her. "You do not believe me."
"I believe you, Seven."
"You do not think they will listen to you."
"It will be difficult, I think. I will just have to make them understand." She rubbed her forehead. "What is the doctor doing here? Wasn't he part of a research project at Utopia Planetia?"
"He was an exhibit in a lab there. Tourists had their picture taken with him. He sent a distress call on a borg frequency and we used cloaking technology to get close enough to retrieve him. We also saved his mobile emitter."
"I never heard about it. When was this?"
Seven's eyes shone a little brighter. "Not long after I left Indiana." The words hung between them. "Starfleet did not publish details of the disappearance because they have still not discerned how he was retrieved."
After a moment or two of yawning silence, Kathryn took a deep breath and felt the muscles in her shoulders relax. "How are you?"
Seven relaxed a little, too. "I am well. You have lost weight."
Kathryn chuckled nervously. "That's what the doctor said."
"How is your family?"
"They are fine." It was all she could say, but she knew it wasn't true.
Kathryn still had the urge to hug her, to wrap her arms around Seven and never let her go. She flashed back on the moment she saw Seven in the Astrometrics lab on the Voyager museum. She had the same feelings--relief, joy, warmth, love. Their eyes locked as she took a tentative step towards her, but they were interrupted by a young woman who did not knock before entering. "Queen, here is the information you requested for the captain." She handed a padd to Seven.
"Thank you, Ledara." She turned back to the captain. "This is Ledara of Tardive, primary adjunct to this matrix. Ledara, this is Captain Janeway of the Federation starship Tyrens."
Kathryn felt her face freeze in her best diplomatic smile. 20, 21 years old, tops. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Pretty. No--stunning. And young. She tried to keep her eyebrows from rising, but was unable to. However, her voice did not fail her. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"If you'll excuse me," she said after looking over at Seven with a smile. She left with Kathryn's gaze lingering on her figure as it retreated.
When Kathryn turned back, the expression on Seven's face was as close to a smirk as she had ever seen.
"I did not know you were the jealous type, Captain," she said with a little smile, and the tension was broken.
"You're saying that there is anyone who wouldn't be jealous of that?" she said, nodding towards the door.
"Jealousy is irrelevant." Seven's voice was nearly a whisper, yet Kathryn heard it clearly and understood. Seven didn't even have a person to be jealous of--she only had Starfleet.
******
"They have adapted to our nanoprobe torpedoes. However, I have devised a technology that will force them back into fluidic space. It will also alter their genetic structure so that once there, they will be unable to return."
Seven was standing in front of a display screen with a graphic of the genetic map of the new weapon. They were in the conference room on the Tyrens, with Admirals Paris, Necharev, Todd and Wheatly. Picard was there as well as several tactical experts and Commander Thompson. It was not a friendly crowd.
"Why come to us with this? It sounds like you have it all under control," Admiral Necharev said as she leaned forward and clasped her hands together.
Seven carefully ignored the biting tone of the question. "The weapon will only work when deployed with the aid of a net. It will require the distributed power of a fleet to create a portal large enough to eliminate the threat."
"But you also need a ship to serve as a stint-to hold the portal open while they are forced back to fluidic space." It was Admiral Wheatly's turn to be devil's advocate.
"That is correct."
"And it can't be your ship that holds it open."
Seven did not attempt to hide her sigh. "No, Admiral, it cannot be the cube. It is not the proper shape. It needs to be a vessel with the shield strength of a streamlined ship."
"Why not just modify the cube to the proper shape? Don't you Borg have plenty of drones at your beck and call for such a situation?"
Seven spoke a little more sharply this time. "I have no drones on my ship. Indeed, I have been liberating drones from the tyranny of the Borg and destroying their technology. There is no time to make the necessary modifications. The ship that holds open the portal is in the least amount of danger once the battle is joined."
"If there is a battle. Who's to say they aren't just curious about us?" This was Admiral Todd's contribution.
"Curious beings do not resort to this level of subterfuge. They also do not form an alliance with the Romulans."
Necharev leaned back in her chair and sighed. "We have been on friendly terms with the Romulans for many years. Even now, we are in talks to redefine the boundaries and policies of the neutral zone."
"However, their cloaking technology still eludes your sensors. The Romulans will be here when the portal opens. They will overrun Terra and from there the whole Federation. "
This brought general amusement from the higher-ups.
After things calmed down a little, Captain Picard's voice cut through the chaos. "How do we know that you aren't fabricating this story, lulling us into conquering us yourself?"
Seven regarded him calmly. "You have scanned my vessel extensively. You know there are no drones in this matrix. Captain Janeway can also vouch for my veracity."
They all turned in their chairs to look at her expectantly, as if she could explain it in words they understand.
Kathryn cleared her voice before starting. "This is not something Seven would lie about. She has proven her worth to the crew of Voyager time and again. I think we should take her at her word and prepare for the worst."
"No offense, Captain, but she is merely a drone with an agenda. She refused to cooperate with our reintegration project and now demands resources for an imaginary threat." Admiral Paris sounded reasonable, but Janeway recognized the diplomatic doubletalk.
Kathryn stood to face them, leaning over the table. "Your son is alive -- he's back in the Alpha Quadrant -- because of that 'mere drone' and he would be the first one to tell you that. He presented you with a grandchild because of that 'mere drone.' There are 141 people from the Voyager crew that owe their lives to her several times over." She straightened, crossing her arms. "I believe her."
The room became very silent. Finally, Admiral Necharev spoke. "We will take this issue under advisement. We will let you know what we decide."
"Do not delay any longer. We need every minute to arm the ships and coordinate the attack." Seven did not try to keep her impatience from her voice.
"And we will inform you of our decision when it is final." Admiral Necharev stood up. "We are dismissed."
Seven, Thompson and the captain left reluctantly and retired to the ready room. They sat down in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
The captain broke their reverie. "Computer, jam all comm channels from this room."
"Comm channels blocked."
She swivelled in her chair to face Seven. "How many of them are imposters?"
Seven glanced over at Thompson briefly before answering. "I am unable to tell without scanning them. They refused to allow the doctor to do so before the meeting. Logically speaking, at least one of them is Species 8472."
"Any chance of extending the range on the scanner you use?"
"Negative. It scans at a genetic level and requires close proximity."
Janeway crossed her arms and sighed. "Then we'll just have to be careful." She swivelled back toward Thompson as she said, "Computer, unlock comm channels in this room." After the computer acknowledged, she continued, "Janeway to the bridge. Senior officers report to the ready room."
Thompson studied the captain. He saw in her grim features that no matter what was said in the other room, the Tyrens would be deploying the technology. He was surprised to find that it made him feel much safer all of a sudden.
The other members of the crew arrived and were introduced. After a warning about security and again blocking the comm channels, the captain sat down and said, "Show us again, Seven. Show us what needs to be done."
The tall blonde hesitated as she looked around the room, but realized that the faces in this room were not hostile, merely curious. "Very well."
She called up the schematics and began the briefing again. She warmed to the topic quickly as it became obvious that the officers in this meeting were people who could do something about the coming conflict. They asked technical questions that brought out details of implementing the weapon that never came up in her interview with the admirals. Seven came away impressed with the quality of the Tyrens officers.
Thompson watched the captain through all of this, acutely aware of the rumors that swirled around her when she first came onboard. He listened to the timbre of her voice, a voice that by now had commanded him so long that he heard it in his sleep. In this meeting it was soft, softer than he ever knew it. She asked a lot of pointed questions, but it was like a professor with a favorite student. He knew that she was a remarkable captain, capable of nearly miraculous deeds, but now he also saw that she was a remarkable woman.
The days of reporting to Starfleet about her had ended abruptly after the Tyrens' first hostile encounter. Her resolve and quick thinking saved all their skins that day and had done so on many occasions since. In all this time, he had only seriously questioned her authority once, and had been wrong. He trusted her judgement implicitly, now realizing that meant even above an admiral's opinion. It may bring a court-martial, but at least he would be alive to face it.
He also knew the captain well enough by now to understand that there was a volcano raging just below the surface. And that the source of all that combustion was this long tall drink of water with borg implants. The captain always wanted nothing but the best. The only question was what she would do about it when all of this was over.
******
Seven stood in front of the bookcase in the captain's quarters, gazing at the painting in an unconscious echo of Kathryn's pose of two days earlier. She could hear the water running as the captain took a shower. Viewing the image of the field brought strong emotions bubbling to the surface. She wondered whether Phoebe knew that they had made love under the tree in the foreground of the picture. In fact, in the spot that was central to the painting.
She heard the captain finish her shower and step out into her bedroom. She usually took a bath, so Seven supposed that the shower was to ease the tired muscles in her shoulders and back from the tension of the meetings today. The water shower was an inefficient use of resources for cleaning, but for relaxing it was acceptable.
After a minute or two, Kathryn reappeared wearing off-duty clothing. She came up behind Seven to gaze at the painting, leaning into her arm a little.
"Did Phoebe observe us in this spot?"
Kathryn chuckled in a low voice. "I honestly don't know. I haven't had the courage to ask. My guess is if she knew, she would have painted in the blanket, or at least be rubbing it in."
"Rubbing it in?"
"Using it to tease me."
"I see." Seven sighed. "I miss you mother's house. I miss your family as well. It was as close to a home as I have ever known."
Most would not hear the emotion in that voice. Kathryn could not miss it.
She cleared her throat before nudging Seven with an elbow. "Hungry?"
"I could consume nutrition."
"C'mon, then. I have a great replicator."
At dinner they avoided sensitive subjects, tiptoeing around Indiana until they gave up the topic entirely. Instead, talk moved toward the problems involved with convincing the Federation of the danger it faced. Of how they were going to handle the imposters, once they showed their true colors. The admirals, in the grandest bureaucratic tradition, had left the Tyrens without committing to a decision one way or the other. On their way out, Picard had made a point of stepping close to Seven, confronting her. In that moment, she felt a coldness wrap around her heart as she saw in his eyes that they would not be helping her. He was powerful enough to keep them from doing anything. She wished she had a scanner at that moment to be able to tell if it were Picard's emotion or that of Species 8472.
Seven looked across the table at the captain, watching her talk about Admiral Necharev and felt better at once. The normalcy of the meal and the conversation quieted her apprehension about the next few days. Captain Janeway was on her side and she was fierce in battle. They might not survive it, but they would go down fighting.
However, she was unable to quiet the feeling in her chest that made the whole evening almost surreal. She knew it had nothing to do with the current situation with Starfleet. It remained after the meal, when they took their drinks and sat on the couch, continuing the discussion until it petered out.
In the ensuing silence, the ground began to give way under Kathryn, slipping away bit by bit. She studied the face that she had longed to see for years, trying not to look as desperate as she felt. Her fingers curled on their own, remembering what it was like to run them through the long blonde hair, to trace the curve of the implant on her brow. They had not talked like this since those evenings spent on her mother's back porch. Those fall evenings where the sweetest memory was the tickling touch of Seven's fingertips on her palm.
"You are happy now." Seven did not look at her.
Kathryn took a breath. She hadn't expected that. "Yes, I am. This is a great ship. I have an excellent crew."
"Is it better than Voyager?"
"Oh, no. Voyager was once-in-a-lifetime. Nothing will ever compare to it."
"I agree."
"How about you? Are you happy?"
"My life is satisfactory. I have freed 12,247 drones from the collective and dismantled several of their core processing units. There are many parts of the universe where they will be unable to assimilate new drones."
Silence won out again.
Suddenly, Seven stood up. "I must go. I can no longer stay here. It is too painful."
Kathryn leaned forward. "Please, sit. We need to talk about this. We need to settle it once and for all."
Seven looked back at the older woman. "There is nothing to discuss. You have chosen your career over a relationship with me."
"It's not that simple."
There was a momentary look of confusion in her eyes. "How so?"
"It was not an either-or situation. It was not a simple choice."
Seven raised her chin. "Perhaps not for you. It was for me."
Kathryn could not meet her eye. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry."
"Do not apologize for your character. You will sacrifice everything to remain a captain. I was aware of this when we became involved. I believed in the beginning that you would adapt, but I was mistaken."
There was another long period of silence, while Seven studied Kathryn who studied her drink. Seven spoke softly, "After Species 8472 is defeated, I will be returning to my mission. There will always be a place for you with me."
Kathryn did not look up.
There it was. She could not longer run from herself. The choice was presented to her again, this time formally. Now that she had experienced life without Seven, it should be an easy decision. Two lives. One she knew worked, one she didn't know about. The vision swirled around in her head, clockwise and counter-clockwise, like some crazy windup toy. When she finally looked up, Seven was gone. She hadn't even noticed.
******
Kathryn sat in her command chair, listening to the conference of voices from the view screen. The admirals were still arguing. The console beside her told her that her ship was ready. They had also managed to find five other ships commanded by some of her former officers who also implemented the weapon. Lieutenant Barclay and the USS Pitt would be the ship holding open the rift. It was not the fastest ship in the fleet, but it had the thickest hull of the six and could easily withstand the forces at the vortex. They also had a few trusted people on key ships to watch for the imposters and anticipate their attack.
There were patrol ships skittering around the Tyrens. Janeway wondered if they were there to protect her or keep her from running. Tom Paris would give his right arm to be right here, she thought with a smile.
The teleconference finally ended the way all the others had-no actions were recommended until the committee on Romulan relations had presented a report from the negotiations over the neutral zone. Unfortunately, the chronometer on Kathryn's console told her that Species 8472 was overdue. About two hours, by Seven's calculations.
"Seven of Nine to Voyager." Her face filled the screen.
"Janeway here."
"We are detecting increased neutrino activity in grid 248K."
"Acknowledged. Mr. Fraser, do you have it?"
The ensign at tactical punched a few buttons. "Aye, Captain."
The console told Kathryn that the Pitt was inching towards grid 248. Kathryn looked back at the screen in front of her, wondering if it would be the last time she saw that face.
Seven met her gaze. "It is time."
Kathryn answered her quietly. "Take care, Seven."
"You must do the same, Captain. Today is not a good day to die."
The viewscreen changed to the view of the fleet, lined up in formation against the borg threat. Kathryn took a deep breath and looked over at Thompson.
"Crunch time, Ma'am."
She smiled. "Crunch time, Commander." She punched the console again. "There's the calculation from Seven. Take us to our grid, Mr. Kaviski. Easy does it."
"Aye, Ma'am."
They heard one of the ships near grid 248 hail the flagship to report the anomaly, and suddenly it disappeared along with several patrol ships, sucked into fluidic space by the force of the rift opening. Comm channels began to overload as ships scattered from the vessels emerging from the other side. They destroyed three ships immediately with lancing blows and then disabled several others on their way through the fleet. But as ships attempted to escape, they ran into the Romulans, who began decloaking and firing at the same time. It was a well-planned trap.
In the midst of the chaos, the crew of the Tyrens followed the orders of its captain, moving into position to connect the net. The battle and it's debris allowed all of them to maneuver without being detected, dodging in and out. Kathryn had counted on Starfleet to be able to handle the Romulans long enough for them to connect the containment field. If she and the other five ships could handle Species 8472, they may live through this.
"Grid 179, Captain."
"All stop. Hold her steady, Mr. Kaviski."
They watched the screen as one by one, the fleet stopped running to turn and fight. But they got the worst of it from the beginning. Ship after ship fired round after round against an enemy of superior strength and position. It was not a pretty sight.
The tactical console beeped. "The Caher is in position. Initiating the link."
The deck shifted violently as the beam took hold.
"Route all available power to the deflector shield until the others are online."
She was proud of the fact that no one grimaced as shields came down to protect the confinement beam until all the points connected. They watched the screen as the Borg cube sped into the middle of the battle to become the center of the net. The Pitt had calculated the coordinates exactly and held the rift open by diverting their warp power to shields. They had determined that the core would last an hour at most, but until then, the portal would be there.
There were so many other targets that no one seemed to be interested in any of the ships moving into position. Still, it seemed like an hour before the grid was complete and shields were restored.
"Mr. Frasier, target the largest of the attackers with the genetic payload. Pick a good shot and fire when ready."
"Aye, Ma'am."
They all tried to appear as casual as their captain, and succeeded to various degrees. Finally, he said "Torpedo away. Thirty seconds to impact."
They watched as the missile ran toward the largest ship in their view, looking as if they caught it completely unaware. It impacted without inflicting any noticeable damage.
"Direct hit."
The ship turned like a large bear surprised from a winter's nap, looking to swat down the fly that awakened it. It began closing on the Tyrens, firing phasers from all banks. The ship shuddered, but shields held as the larger vessel bore down on them. Then, just as they all began to doubt the borg and her technology, the ship seemed to flicker on the viewscreen. It stopped like it hit a brick wall and tilted to starboard as it was drawn into the confinement field. Once inside, a tractor beam from the Pitt grabbed it. It was quickly flushed to the rift and gone in the blink of an eye.
"Choose another, Mr. Fraser."
"Aye, Captain."
Now it was only a matter of time before they had the attention of Species 8472. Kathryn knew that six ships could never hold out, especially after the attackers had time to analyze the threat and realize how small the net really was.
But, one ship and then another were thrown back through the rift.
"Admiral Paris is hailing."
"Onscreen."
"Captain, send us the specifications for the containment field. We have four ships in reserve that can join the net."
"It will take at least two hours to set up the beam and we don't have two hours. We do have the replicator patterns for the genetic weapon. They are being downloaded to you now. The field can only handle two ships at a time, so use them judiciously. Your best bet is to keep the Romulans off our backs for as long as possible. If we can maintain field integrity for another twenty minutes or so, we'll send enough of them back to make it even."
"Aye, Captain." He gave her a look before the screen went blank. She wondered again if it would be the last time she saw the face on the screen.
They got off two more torpedoes before 8472 realized that they were losing ships. But it wasn't until the ships outside the net began firing on them that several of them broke for home.
Suddenly, the ship lurched to port and the lights flickered.
"Shields at 34 percent. Romulan warbird decloaking just off starboard. The containment field is weakening, but still intact."
Kathryn stood up and straightened her tunic. "Ready on those torpedoes, Mr. Fraser. Target the Romulan ship. Hail them."
The snarling face of a Romulan captain filled the screen. "Do you surrender, Tyrens?"
"Cease your attack or share the fate of your friends from fludic space. You have thirty seconds." She turned to the officer at tactical and nodded, and he cut the transmission. They stood at attention as the warbird turned for the death blow.
"Shields failing."
"Ready on that torpedo."
"Aye, Ma'am."
"Fire when they close to 400,000 kilometers."
They now all held their breath as they watched the ship closing on them, the Romulans nearing point-blank range to fire. It seemed like forever before Fraser said "Torpedo away, Ma'am."
It impacted on the Romulan shields. The ship continued to grow larger in the screen, but this time they knew it was only a matter of time.
Finally, just as it seemed they would ram Tyrens, their heading decayed. The warbird tipped and shuddered. The tractor beam from the Pitt took hold and drew them towards the rift. It only had to bring them halfway and then the forces of quantum physics took hold and sucked them in. The ship disappeared quickly into the roiling entrance to fluidic space.
Suddenly, it was over. The Romulans turned and ran, with Federation ships following them to warp. The few ships left from Species 8472 ran back through the portal and the Pitt let them go.
The phaser fire died out and the scene was one of destruction. The hulls of several ships floated around them, tumbling and sparking. It would be a long time before this area would be navigable.
It was only another minute before Kathryn recovered. "Scan for survivors. See what we can do to take in casualties."
"Aye, Captain. The containment field is down. Pitt is preparing to close the rift."
"Let's see it."
The screen jumped to life as they watched the tractor beam disappear and the lumbering ship was spit out. It had several visible dents and the warp core was dead, but they had no casualties.
Finally, it was Admiral Necharev who hailed Tyrens. The bridge crew remained professional, but there was no containing the small smiles all around as Janeway called for the message onscreen.
"Good afternoon, Admiral. My guess is talks about the neutral zone have not gone well."
******
Captain and first officer sat side by side, watching the viewscreen in front of them as captains and first officers had for hundreds of years. The image of the borg cube hung in front of them as they escorted it to the edge of the Terra system as a gesture of friendship. Seven was now an international heroine and this was her ticker-tape parade.
Most of the battle had been captured on video and then played over and over again on newsfeeds and talk shows. Picard and one of the Admirals had been kidnaped and replaced by 8472 clones. Picard's first officer had been forewarned by Janeway and the threat was averted. There were several other ships with officers who didn't belong who were quickly rooted out after Starfleet approved the scanning of all its personnel to weed out the imposters. The borg cube was now something to be revered. It reminded the captain of Voyager's triumphant return.
But for Kathryn, the viewscreen presented a different picture. When she looked at the ship, in her mind she saw Seven's quarters. A room with a regeneration alcove and not much else. Kathryn had chided her about it. "I do not require external images of you to remember our time together," Seven had said, chin up.
After listening to her for several minutes, Seven produced three carefully framed pictures from a panel on the wall. From the odd camera angle, they had obviously been created from her eidetic memory. One of Gretchen in her kitchen, stirring a pot of something steaming; Phoebe behind an easel, drawing intensely; and Kathryn sitting in front at the small window in the shed, staring out into the yard on an early morning, waiting for Seven's cycle to finish. She had fingered them, reliving it yet again.
Kathryn remembered that she went to great pains not to say the word 'no.' It would be too final. They were just old friends, parting before a long journey.
Then, in the end, she tried to say yes. "They are talking about command of Starfleet Academy for me. It would mean I stay home."
But Seven saw through it, as she always did. She knew that it wasn't really a yes. "You do not belong in Indiana any more than Gretchen belongs on a starship."
The final moment came upon her quickly, more quickly than she could imagine. The cube was ready to leave. The captain belonged on her ship. They stood in the Borg control room, facing each other for the last time, silent.
As Kathryn called for transport, she drank in the face before her. It would be the last time they saw each other, and they both knew it.
As she felt the transporter take her, she heard Seven's soft voice, "Goodbye, Captain."
Kathryn closed her eyes. She would not cry. She just wouldn't.
Thompson had been studying her face for the last fifteen minutes, waiting for her to say that she was leaving. He expected her to do it long before they reached to edge of the galaxy, but she remained silent. Silent and stoic. It reminded him of her first day on the Tyrens when she finally had what she wanted but wasn't sure she was happy about it. He saw she was fighting back tears. He spoke in a low voice. "Captain, you can't tell me that you're going to let her go again."
She looked over at him. They had served together long enough that he rarely surprised her. This time he did. "What?"
"Can you honestly say that there is anything more important to you than her? Of course you can't. Any fool can see that."
She cleared her voice and punched a command into her console. "You are out of line, Mr. Thompson."
"Am I? Is it not my job to look after the well-being of the captain?"
She turned back to the viewscreen, wiping the expression from her face. "This is none of your business."
"Then you are a fool."
She stood quickly, fists clenched at her sides. He stood beside her slowly, carefully placing his hands behind his back, ready for the dress-down. The bridge had gone deathly silent.
"Officers have been court-martialed for less, Mr. Thompson." Her words were biting, sharp as they were during the first days of their partnership.
"Then bring it on, Captain, because there is not a court in the land that wouldn't agree with me that you're a fool." He pointed to the borg cube on the viewscreen. "That is your life out there, getting ready to go to warp."
She refused to look. "Tyrens is my home now," she insisted. But her voice was breaking. She was breaking.
"Haven't you noticed? They really want you at the Academy because you're a captain-maker. Four of the officers you trained on the Tyrens in the last two years are now captains of their own ships. In my book, you've done your duty by Starfleet. You've proven your point. Now it's time to let others step up to the plate."
She took in a sharp breath as she realized that she had never honestly considered it. She had never let go of that one spot inside that held onto Starfleet with a deathgrip. It had been her survival for nearly her whole life. Now, another whole existence yawned open before her, another whole path that she had never even thought about. What would it be like to not be Starfleet? She always supposed that someday she would retire, but she thought it would be as an Admiral. She looked back at the viewscreen. Remembered those three pictures, so securely guarded.
"Captain, do you really need me to tell you where you belong?"
She turned to look around the bridge at her officers. They were carefully interested in their consoles, but were also smiling knowingly.
Never let it be said that Kathryn Janeway could not make a good decision quickly. She just didn't do it very often when it concerned her personal life. She looked back at the first officer, the tears now making him swim before her eyes. "You are going to make a great captain, Mr. Thompson."
"Learned from the best, Ma'am."
She looked back to the screen. Suddenly she was seized by the idea that the cube would disappear, that she would be too late once again. Panic overtook her. "Hail-- "
She felt a hand on her arm. "It's all right, Captain." He nodded to Fraser at tactical. "She'll wait for you."
She slumped down in her chair, head in hands.
After a moment or two, Thompson handed her a padd with her resignation. As she signed it, she felt the strange combination of a weight off her shoulders and a queasy stomach. There would be repercussions through the highest command of the Federation, but she no longer cared. She knew even her mother would approve.
Thompson then escorted her to shuttle bay two, where most of her crew gathered. It was there she really knew she was saying goodbye to life as she knew it. To her life for so many years. She shook hands with every crewman and hugged a suddenly embarrassed Thompson. When she entered the shuttle, she found that her belongings were intact, carefully packed by a volunteer transition team--her last. All had been neatly managed for her. It was the last present of a grateful crew.
As she started up the engines and requested permission to leave, she looked down at her uniform, wearing it for what she knew would be the last time. It was a strange feeling. She maneuvered the shuttle through the open port and quickly closed the distance to the borg cube that would be her new home. During that short flight, she pondered the fact that life's most important decisions are usually at gut level, and require little or no thought. But only when you really consider all of the consequences. She also thought of the long stretches of time she wasted trying not to be unhappy.
In no time at all, the shuttle landed in an open bay on the cube. Her hands moved over the console, shutting down systems by memory and touch because her eyes were on Seven. The tall blonde stood in front of her viewport, at attention with her hands behind her back. Her expression was blank, unreadable.
Kathryn stepped over to the shuttle door and activated the unlocking mechanism, impatient beyond reason. The minutes suddenly seemed so precious. When it finally opened, she stepped off quickly. Seven was waiting for her outside the door. The tears flowed freely down Kathryn's face, blurring the vision before her eyes.
Seven didn't say anything. She simply walked over and enfolded her in those long arms in one efficient motion. Kathryn felt herself go limp, but the young woman supported her weight easily.
Kathryn leaned into the young woman's strength. She felt the precise heartbeat under her cheek. She breathed in the slightly metallic tang of implants, a memory she had completely forgotten. And in this coldest of all mechanical places, the warmth of the embrace soaked into her bones as a familiar feeling washed over her, a balm for the wounds.