Intentions

I saw her.  She was large in her nature, yet small in stature, and I feared.  The old gray wolf stood on the periphery.  She came from out of nowhere.  She howled into the night’s darkness along with winter’s bitter wind.  Her song was sad, tinged with loneliness, but not desperate.  The young female at my side stepped into me for protection.  She shivered and sought my eyes for comfort.  Yet I stood helpless knowing it was not mine to give.  The wolf’s howl grew loud and longing.  At its last bark, it looked toward me, then at the young female who buried her head in my thick winter coat.  As if to show me its smile, it bared its teeth.  I heard the growl and understood its intentions.  The old gray wolf walked off into the night, but I knew it would return.

Chakotay awoke feeling the fever of his sleeping vision.  He prayed to the gods it was just a dream, but knew it portended more of his future.  Quietly, he dressed for the day as he wondered what this vision meant.  What path in life it illuminated.  It troubled him deeply, and he promised he would seek out his animal guide after his duty shift.  He left his quarters for the bridge.

"We're being hailed." Ensign Kim reported as the bridge crew watched the small vessel maneuver through the rift, dodging multiple bursts from the Klingon ships.

Captain Kathryn Janeway hesitated then stood.  Chakotay watched as she walked over to the helm. "Onscreen," she ordered, her eyes never leaving the view screen.

Chakotay watched in disbelief as the shuttle tore through the temporal rift.  Once on-screen he saw the passion burning in the pilot’s eyes.  What was written on her face spoke silently to him alone.  There would be more to her arrival, here in the Delta Quadrant, he realized, than simply a way home.  Her eyes searched the bridge, trying to find what she was truly there for, and when they finally rested, he too understood what she sought.  

He saw the slight jerk in the captain’s shoulders, as confusion turned to recognition of the elder woman’s face, now more than familiar.  "Recalibrate your deflector to emit an anti-tachyon pulse. You have to seal the rift," the elder’s voice ordered, and Chakotay watched as the captain recognized its authority.  Everyone watched as the two became caught in a personal duel of wills.

The captain stood her ground firmly as she matched the intensity of the other’s expression. "It's usually considered polite to introduce yourself before you start giving orders."

"Captain, a Klingon vessel is coming through the rift," Lt. Commander Tuvok reported as his hand flew across his workstation.

"Close the rift!"  The woman repeated loudly from the shuttle on screen.

Captain Kathryn Janeway adjusted her stance as she continued to glare defiantly at the older woman.

"In case you didn't notice, I outrank you, Captain.  Now do it." The older woman, the Admiral spoke, her command mask revealed for the first time to the young captain on the bridge.

A beam from Voyager sealed the opening.  The Klingons’ fates were no longer a threat to either vessel.

"I did what you asked. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”  Captain Janeway spoke, her voice steely.

Utterly composed, the Admiral answered, "I've come to bring Voyager home."

She came again the next moon.  She did not come alone. Another wolf, younger, stood with her.  The younger one bayed at the moon while the older wolf stood and stared at us.  Her eyes were sharp and transfixed.  She would miss nothing for she had seen it before.  Her eyes met mine with the strength of the future.  She growled at the younger wolf next to her.  Using her snout, she pushed her toward us.  They fought each other, rolling on the ground then snapping at the other’s legs.  A playful banter, it seemed, between one’s selves. 

The young female at my side turned to watch them.  She seemed mesmerized by these older females.  She shook the snow off her coat and looked back into my eyes.  She pushed me playfully with her snout.  I stood by her knowing the game did not call me.  She stepped away and toward them.  She stopped, dropping her head and looking back at me I heard her quiet whine.

The old wolf howled once more at the moon, the younger wolf at her side joining in. 

The young female by me watched their chorus, their melody a song for her heart.  I knew the decision could only be hers.  She did not go then, and they walked off into the night.  I knew they would return.

He woke again with the fever of his dream.  Chakotay knew it spoke of his future just as the admiral did yesterday.  He dressed for the day, deeply troubled, and he knew he needed to speak with Seven.  He wondered if it were already too late.  He wondered if they already sang their song.  He left his quarters for the bridge.

The corridors of Voyager were quiet as the two ladies of command walked, their conversation bordering upon argument.

"I didn't spend the last ten years looking for a way to get this crew home earlier so you could throw it all away on some intergalactic goodwill mission!"

Captain Janeway looked her elder self over with concern. "Maybe we should go back to Sickbay."

"Why, so you can have me sedated?"

"So I can have the Doctor reconfirm your identity." The Captain threw up her hands. "I refuse to believe I'll ever become as cynical as you."

"Am I the only one experiencing déjà vu here?"

"What are you talking about?"  The Captain questioned.

"Seven years ago, you were presented with the Caretaker's array to get Voyager home. Instead, you destroyed it."

The Captain bristled then answered. "I did what I knew was right."

"You chose to put the lives of strangers ahead of the lives of your crew. You can't make the

same mistake again."

"You got Voyager home - which means I will, too. If it takes a few more years then that's-"

"Seven of Nine is going to die."  The admiral interceded, stopping the captain in her tracks.

"What?"

"Three years from now. She'll be injured on an away mission. She'll make it back to Voyager, and die in the arms of her husband."

"Husband?"  The captain asked.  She knew hearing this truth would hurt.

"Chakotay."   The admiral answered, looking at her younger self.  "He'll never be the same after Seven's death, but what’s more neither will you."

The younger Janeway saw years of sadness and longing written in the elder’s eyes.  She knew this was one future she was not willing to accept.

"If I know what's going to happen...I can avoid it," she asserted, rather unconvincingly.

The young female at my side turned to look for them in the wake of the moon.  She could hear their distant call and knew it was for her.  She looked at me in sadness.  I walked to her, licked her face and sniffed her one last time, wanting only to remember the scent she bore. 

A lone female wolf stood on the periphery.  The older gray wolf, I knew, lingered somewhere in the distance.  The lone female bayed into the night’s darkness.  Her song spoke of need, tinged with love.  The lone female raised her head and sniffed the air, dragging it in as she found the scent she wanted.  Her eyes met mine briefly and then moved to meet the young one’s eyes. 

The young female stepped away from me and toward her.  She hesitated, dropping her head, and looked back at me until she heard the song again.  She knew it was for her, and she went, never looking back.  They sniffed each other as if unsure, and then the young one licked the other as she stood against the moon, her head held commandingly high.  They walked off into the night and I knew she would never return.

The Captain, like Chakotay, woke with the fever of a dream.  She knew it spoke of the future just as the admiral did yesterday.  She realized the truth of the vision.   She dressed for the day, deeply troubled, and wondered if it were already too late.  She left her quarters for the bridge.

“Chakotay.”  She spoke as he too stepped from his quarters. 

“Captain,” he replied.  He searched her eyes. “Looks like a good day to return to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“I believe it is.”  She remarked wryly, “But let’s do it right this time, shall we?”

He looked at her then and caught the slight smile, almost as if she were bearing her teeth purposefully.  Her laughter was almost a growl.

He understood her intentions.