Kathryn Janeway
Personal log
Stardate 52542.3
Encryption on
At first it was bliss.
Our first views of earth through the wormhole were more
beautiful than I had ever dreamed. I should have noticed then the odd
coincidence that North America, and Indiana more specifically should be centered
in our view. I did not, however. Instead I saw the cloud covered blue and green
of a hundred holo-images which covered the walls of my childhood bedroom. It was
Earth, and finally I had brought my ship, my people, my family, home. Joy and
pride welled within me, stronger and more filling than I can ever remember. In
moments the long journey would be over, and my debt to my crew would be
redeemed.
The doctor tells me we were unconscious for a mere few hours,
but in that time I lived weeks in my mind. Views of home were quickly supplanted
by sub-space messages from Starfleet central command, authorizing a clear
approach first to a temporary dock just above the Earth atmosphere. We had, they
informed us, somewhat surprised them. The wormhole had materialized only days
before, and though they had begun transmitting messages into the Delta Quadrant
almost immediately, they had not expected we'd be so close by, that we'd respond
to their interstellar page quite so promptly. Within a few short hours of
docking, we were underway again, for a brief, but triumphant planetfall, Voyager
in all her glory, descending over the blue Pacific to come to a gentle bump and
full stop in the slip from which she was launched five and a half years ago.
It was a clear and warm Sunday morning. The few hours we had
spent in our holding pattern had been spent polishing ourselves, since we had no
access to the outer hull. Voyager came sailing home as she stood, battered,
bandaged, and proud. Her crew -- my crew -- stood at attention at battle
stations dressed in full ceremonial uniform, replicated specially for the
moment. Our replication systems held out until the last pip, and then seemed to
heave a collective sigh and collapse. A cheer rose from the crew then, which
surged across the decks and crashed upon the bridge like a joyous wave. It was
the first of many I would hear.
As Voyager settled gentle into berth, our view screens
suddenly blazed with color. Thousands of our friends and family collected on the
parade grounds of Starfleet Academy. All shapes, sizes and races -- human,
Vulcan, Katarian, Betazoid, Klingon -- the rainbow of souls which make up my
crew -- were reflected in those thousands of faces. Anxiously, I scanned the
assembled throng, searching. The pan across the crowd halted suddenly at what
appeared to be a hastily assembled podium -- almost twentieth century in design
-- steel framing and planks, and in the center, Admiral Paris, the Joint Chiefs
of Staff, the President of Earth, and incongruously my own mother.
"Starfleet Command, the USS Voyager, captained by Kathryn Janeway, and staffed by 150 of Starfleet's finest, requests permission to disembark, sir."
"Voyager, welcome home. We've been holding supper for you"
The cheer which rose then seemingly from the very hull of the
ship was deafening, and rolled on an on for what seemed an eternity. It felt
like everything I'd ever dreamed of.
It was my honor to watch my crew disembark, one at a time. To
see the glow on the faces of their parents, husbands, wives, children and
friends. Not one crew member was not greeted by a throng of delighted family.
Even those family who would most certainly have been in a far distance system
seemed to be there to welcome us. I should have wondered at that, but I did not.
Even Seven was greeted by two aunts, and a grandmother who looked so much like
the woman who not so long ago was a Borg drone. At first she was her usual self,
standing stiff, aloof and tall. That is until her grandmother ordered her submit
to a hug, and Seven's icy exterior seemed to melt in the arms of that frail
elderly woman. It was a beautiful sight, among a thousand others, and I was
privileged to witness them all. I thought then how marvelous it was to have
finally reached home while my crew was still in their prime.
As I myself walked down the ramp, my mother of course and
Phoebe, followed by Molly and three other Irish setters rushed to me. I'd
forgotten how hard it is to remain a stalwart and dignified Starfleet Captain
when your mother is smiling so richly at you. I would have melted, then and
there, were it not for the benevolent yet stern smile of Admiral Paris, who
saluted then swept me into a bear hug so uncharacteristic of him I began to
laugh. "Well, Katie," he whispered conspiratorially, "you've brought her home
safe, and you've brought my boy back to me. There's a promotion around here
somewhere for a woman like you."
It was another three hours before I found myself surrounded
by dogs, mother and sister on the private arrivals transport pad in Gary.
Starfleet command authorized immediately fourteen day leaves for all Voyager
crew, but Admiral Paris himself had to order me leave the base when I tried to
insist on beginning debriefings. The Delta Quadrant, and the potential threat of
both the Borg and Species 8472 still weighed heavily upon me. But by the time we
made our way from pad to my mother's home, the adrenaline rush of the previous
24 hours began to wear off, and I felt victim to the most wonderful sense of
exhaustion. The lives of my crew were at least for awhile no longer my
responsibility. The warm sun of earth beat down upon me, the fresh scent of mown
hay -- I had forgotten how narcotic they could be -- beckoned me to the comfort
and security of my childhood bed. There, surrounded by pictures of Earth --
though hadn't I removed those long before I graduated from Starfleet even -- I
fell into the deepest, richest sleep I have ever known.
The following days are a blur. Word arrived the first evening
from Mark. Though he was immeasurably pleased at my return to the Alpha
quadrant, he was unavoidably detained. He'd join me in Indiana as soon as
possible, certainly no more than a week. He loved me, was proud of me, and would
I please save him a caramel brownie or two if possible. Dear, dear Hobbes. I
looked forward to our reunion, though I was just as pleased to have these days
alone with Phoebe and mother -- or now that I look back on it, more accurately,
alone with myself. To talk, to think, to feel -- almost for the first time since
the Ocompa, and the Guardian and my fateful decision.
At first, it was bliss.
Kathryn Janeway
Personal log
Stardate 52542.3 Resumed
Encryption on
When did it begin?
I'm not sure. Perhaps it's just that a woman can only take so
much of her favorite things. Mother cooked -- really cooked, not replicated --
all of my favorite meals. Using vegetables from her own garden even. She'd given
up the vegetable garden the year Phoebe went off to art school. Too much bother
for one, she'd said, and yet somehow miraculously she'd planted it again this
year. Almost as if she'd known I'd be home. Mother baked, pan after pan of gooey
caramel brownies, and Phoebe contributed pot after pot of rich, dark coffee, her
special blend of beans she'd brought back from her recent gallery tours. And the
dogs -- my beautiful Molly and her now grown pups were perfectly behaved,
sitting quietly while I brushed them, running and jumping for joy when we walked
the fields, sleeping at the foot of the bed each night, a living force field.
But it did begin -- a nagging loneliness. I missed my crew.
I'd seen each of them off, handing them back to friends and family, but now I
wished them back. Chakotay was, I was told when I called, on an extended
spiritual meditation journey. Tuvok and his wife had taken their granddaughter
on a tour of Vulcan museums, and in a fit of illogical emotion, not even left
their itinerary with their daughter, but she would she assured me mention my
call when they next checked in. B'lanna was visiting Maquis battlesites while
Tom and Admiral Paris had taken an extended deep sea diving holiday in the caves
on Mars. Even Neelix was unavailable; he'd joined Samantha Wildman, her husband
and Naomi on a slow private transport ship to Katar, bound he had said for a
grand tour of Alpha quadrant culinary schools. Only Harry and Seven remained
unaccounted for -- at least of my senior staff -- the rest of the crew, I'm
sure, would have been quite uncomfortable if their captain had called upon them
for no apparent reason. I briefly entertained the notion of trying to track them
down, but for some reason, the prospect of finding them together did not sit
well. In fact, had things not been so wonderful, perhaps I would have recognized
my own jealousy at the thought. Harry was a fine young man. But Seven. Seven was
far too complex, to become involve with simple, lovable Harry.
Within a few days of my arrival, as I began to feel the
effects of so much good food, an invitation to join the local women's Velocity
league arrived, as if in response to my unspoken thoughts. I found the exertion
cleared my mind, and eased my sleep, which still replayed so much of our lives
in the Delta quadrant. Few of the players could truly match me, however. My
skills have sharpened these last few months on Voyager, and no one provided the
challenge that Seven posed. Once, from the corner of my eye I saw a blonde
woman, taller than I, clothed in striking blue preparing for a match. I'd raised
my hand to hail her, before I'd realized that I'd only imagined she was Seven.
My disappointment was instantaneous and deep. I attributed my mistake to the
creeping loneliness. When Mark arrived, I'd have someone to talk to again --
someone who cared as much as I about the universe beyond Indiana, beyond Earth,
who though he had roots still had wings to fly.
Again seemingly in answer to my unspoken wish, Mark arrived
the following day, laden with stories of his own adventures, and eager to hear
mine. Our homecoming was warm and loving. The four of us spent the evening
chatting, but as evening passed into night, Mother and Phoebe excused
themselves, leaving Mark and I on the front porch gazing at the stars. His kiss
was cooler than I'd remembered, human flesh almost always is. His touch at first
more hesitant than I'd have imagined. Soon though, as my arousal built, so did
his, and our kisses became more insistent. Within minutes, I rose, reached out
my hand and led him to my room. The bed was small, and cramped. Our passion was
familiar. We rose and crested as I remembered, happily fitting into the rhythm
of our lovemaking we'd established early in our relationship. It was as if no
time had passed. My own release came quickly and strongly. Brought on by the
touch of another for the first time in nearly six years, my passion washed over
me in pleasant soothing waves and as I relaxed into his embrace, I remembered
the comfort that had led me to form my alliance with Mark in the first place.
Sometime in the middle of that night, the dream came. It was
third watch, though more accurately for my dream, night on Voyager. The lights
in were low, and I was alone. The corridors were empty as a searched the ship
with growing discomfort, finding no one. Then as I entered the mess hall, there
appeared Earhart just as I had last seen her among the 39ers. She could neither
see nor hear me, and vanished completely after a second or two. In another
corridor Kes. At seeing her I was struck with great affection and longing, but
she was deeply engaged in studying her plants and did not hear me. Flashes of
the faces of crew and alien alike who we'd encountered in our travels, appeared,
then just as quickly, disappeared, while I more and more frantically searched
the ship, for something I could not identify. But no matter who I saw, it was an
illusion I could not communicate with. Finally, it was Phoebe, then mother, then
Mark, and still I searched for someone or something with whom I could break
through. No one spoke with me, no one heard me, no one knew I existed. Finally I
reached engineering. There on the floor by the main console lay Seven, just as
she must have lain when by my own hand I shocked her into stasis at the edge of
the wormhole. I woke covered in sweat, and wrapped too closely in Mark's arms. I
drew away, and gazed out my window towards the heavens till dawn broke in the
east.
In the morning, a call came. A major problem required Mark's
immediate attention, could he come by the next transport? I ought to have been
suspicious. Philospohers rarely have office emergencies, but I'd grown used to
this odd, dreamlike reality. I walked him to the transport pad, quiet with my
own thoughts. "It's good to have you home, Kathryn. Now that you're back, we
should talk about our plans for the future the next time we're together. I'll
call you, and we'll see what we can arrange." I hope I did not appear too
distracted at his words, but I remember an impending sense of disappointment
that after all these years, our relationship should have so quickly and easily
become familiar again. Was this familiar feeling really worth crossing the Delta
quadrant for?
I took the long way home, wandering the fields of my youth,
and pondering the irony of dreams. I had the perfect homecoming. The crew was
safe at home; the rifts between father and son, Maquis and Starfleet seemed to
have miraculously healed in their absence. For myself, I had my family back, my
engagement of the verge of return, a promotion, the respect and gratitude of
Starfleet command, even my beloved dog at my feet. And yet, I still felt alone,
searching. The sweat from my dream returned as my mind replayed the dreams' end,
Seven crumbled and unconscious aboard an empty starship. In that instant my
heart reached out for her, and I remembered the first time I saw her human face
-- regenerated after I had rescued her from the Borg. I remembered breathing in
rythym with her as I adjusted her eye piece in a holding cell millions of light
years from Earth. I remembered her in war-torn France, and sitting so close to
me in Master DaVinci's studio.
Unbidden Dante's words echoed to me seemingly blown across
the fields: "In quella parte del libro de la mia memoria, dinanzi a la quale
poco si potrebbe leggere, si trova una rubrica la quale dice: Incipit vita
nova.." and I awoke on the floor of the bridge into this, my own new life.