Mother Tongue
She loses her communicator. It slips down some crack in the cave they
are staying in, and she is lost. Janeway knows the minerals in this
planet's surface render her implanted translators useless, which
doesn't help her mood. The senior staff has been chasing her. She has
been unable to locate Seven, who previously indicated wanting a word
with her. In the main tunnel, as people pass her, some make strange
noises. Sometimes clipped phrases from dialects she hasn't studied in
twenty years. They are greeting her exactly as they always do. Because
she is the captain. Because she brings many together and makes them
one.
It's strange, hearing her voice greet them against unknown clackings,
syllables she trusts even as they swirl around her. There is Neelix,
who talks excitedly in a broken jumble of words. He touches her hand;
this must be addressed later, she gathers.
"Neelix, I'm in a hurry. Another time? We'll talk it over." She
smiles so as to reassure him, and it seems to work. He walks away
grinning.
She discovers that there are different speeds, different tones with
which they speak to her. But her reply seems the same to them. Nobody
notices that she cannot hear them. The watch could see something, and
it could be seconds before she understood the exact nature of the
sighting, depending on the crewman on duty.
Does she know the crew so well as to not need words, or is this a mark
of how little they are actually listened to?
Janeway walks to the room in the cave where Seven has been staying.
When Seven enters the area, it's with a pleased sway. Her eyebrows
seem to go up on noticing that the captain is wearing no commbadge, and
maybe there's a slight smirk. Janeway can't tell. Maybe it's the
low light. Seven stands in front of her, and says nothing.
"What?" she spits. "You know every language in the galaxy. Care
to enlighten me?"
When Seven extends her arm, Janeway does not think any words. Nor when
Seven rests it on her shoulder, nor when she notices that Seven is
trembling slightly, and that her eyes are wide. As Janeway closes the
space between them, she feels only the press of their foreheads, the
slow clinging of their lips, the weight of years relieved.
"Do you understand?" Seven asks, in a language they have both
longed to hear.
END