Four months went by, altogether, and then someone came to see me: Parvati Pandey, dressed in civvies. “Just passing by,” she said, with a sly look. Whoever would be “just passing by” our place? We were at the end of our own damn lane.
We sat on the porch and drank iced tea. She said, “Still angry, Kathryn?”
I shook my head. “No. Just tired.”
“Tired?” she said. “Or bored?”
The words seemed to break a spell. I looked across the land, and suddenly it was as if I could see in color again: the green trees and fields, the bright roses, the sparkle of sunlight. I felt something surge inside me, some upswell of energy that I had started to think I would never experience again. I felt… like I could do something.
I looked at Pandey. She was smiling at me, fondly.
“I think… I’m ready,” I said.
“I think you are too,” she replied. “I knew you’d get there, given time.”
And I was ready. Ready to start over.
After Pandey left, I contacted the Al-Batani and asked to speak to Captain Paris.
“Kathryn,” he said. “How are you?”
“I’m much better, sir,” I said.
“I’m glad to hear that, Kathryn. It’s good of you to check in—”
“Sir,” I said. “I’m ready to come back.”
He gave me the commander’s look, sizing me up. “Are you sure?”
I looked back, steely-eyed. “Surer than I’ve been of anything, sir. Permission to return to duty?”
I saw a gleam of pride in his eyes; perhaps I’m not going too far to say of paternal pride. “Permission granted, Ensign. We’re ready to welcome you home.”
I learned later that Owen Paris had lost his own father young, a father killed while serving in Starfleet. No wonder he understood. No wonder he was so patient with me. Looking back now on my first year in Starfleet, with its great highs and its desperate lows, I see now how easily my career could have been derailed even before it started. And I recognize—and am beyond grateful for—the good luck that I have had in my mentors. Flora Kristopher, who took me from rookie cadet to capable ensign. Owen Paris, who gave me the space to bring myself back from the worst blow of my life. Parvati Pandey, who helped me understand my grief and anger. And of course, Tuvok, who has never allowed me to let my standards slip. I am grateful to them all, and I have tried to pay it forward.
CHAPTER FIVE
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED—2359–2364
IT WAS TIME TO SAY GOODBYE TO MOM AND PHOEBE, and the grandparents: a more tearful farewell than usual. Home would never be quite the same again, but it was still home, and always would be—the place of rest and restoration; the place where I could always go, whenever I was in need. Before I left, Phoebe and I had one last walk down the country lanes which we knew so well, stopping to look at the little schoolhouse where our journeys away from home had begun as little girls, all those years ago.
“I worry about Mom,” I said.
“But I’ll be here for a while yet,” Phoebe said. “Don’t let it stop you going back.”
I felt bad. Phoebe had her own career to think of. She had a studio over in Portland, and I knew there was a romance back there, someone special that she surely wanted to be around. “Shall we give it a few months?” I said. “I could come back… Take over…?”
Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t think so, Katy. Now you’ve got the nerve back, I think you should go for it. You know, I think Mom will surprise us all.”
On my way back to Starfleet Command, I stopped for a day with the Grands-in-town. That was a sad visit. Granddad-in-town had lost some of his ebullience; Granny-in-town looked gaunt. They lived long lives—happy lives, too, to the end—with many grandchildren and great-grandchildren (Granny even saw a great-great-grandson), but that loss of their child was always there. How could it not be? Feeling a decade older and wiser and sadder than I had been only a few months earlier, I made my way to San Francisco, to report, as instructed, to Starfleet Command, and my meeting with Captain Paris and Admiral Pandey.
Before the meeting, I took a little time to wander around the grounds of the Academy. How young the cadets looked! How green! The last eighteen months had changed me more than any other period in my life: not just my time on board the Al-Batani, but the fundamental shock of my father’s death. There was no one ahead of me now, nobody clearing the path for me. We have such an expectation these days about how long our parents, and our grandparents, will live, but it isn’t always the case that they survive to old age, especially if you’re Starfleet. I felt strangely exposed. I know from speaking to other friends who have lost parents relatively young that they felt something similar: that some significant barrier had fallen too soon. It was both terrifying and yet, at the same time, strangely exhilarating, as if I had been initiated fully into the adult world. Still, I would have done anything—gone anywhere—if I thought it would bring Dad back home to us. But some journeys have no return.
I wandered through the garden, sitting on a bench among the roses, breathing in the deep rich scent. With that preternatural skill by which he always seems to appear when needed, I saw Boothby walking slowly down the path toward me. He seemed no different. Did he ever age? My father said he had looked exactly the same when he was a cadet. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d looked this way when Grandad-in-town was at the Academy. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he was here when the foundations had been laid. He stopped beside me and pushed back his hat.
“Good to see you, Ensign Janeway.” He sat down beside me, his face saddening. “I was sorry to hear about your father. Poor Ted.”
“Thank you, Boothby.”
“It’s worse when they’re so young.”
It was strange to me to think of Dad as young, but of course Boothby was right. He had been no age at all. “I know.”
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s amazing.”
“Roses flourishing?”
“Always.”
We smiled at each other. He said, “Have you got some time to help me today, or are you too busy?”
I breathed in deeply. Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to stay in this peaceful place, quietly pottering around after Boothby, tending the garden, watching the weather and the seasons change. How strange, for one who had always wanted to get out of these chores and get back to flight. Suddenly, my mother’s way of life made perfect sense. But it wasn’t my way. I wanted to be out there. I wanted to be among the stars.
“I wish I could…”
“But the admiral and the captain await you.” He stood up, surprisingly agile for such an old man, and offered his hand courteously to me to help me to my feet. “The garden will always be here, Kathryn. Home from home. Come back whenever you need us.”
We parted company: I went to my meeting; he went back to his garden. Later that day, I found fresh roses had been sent to my quarters.
* * *
Captain Paris and Admiral Pandey welcomed me into her office and put me at my ease. Tea was poured, and we took seats around her desk. She had a fine view over the harbor, the kind of view that, when the weather was fine, as it was today, lifted the heart. Looking out over that big blue sky I could feel my spirits rise. I was ready to take flight again.
Pandey eased herself into her chair. “Kathryn. Good to see you looking more like yourself again.”
“Thank you, Admiral. I won’t deny it’s been a tough time, but the worst is definitely past. I’m ready to resume my duties.” I glanced at my captain, sitting in the chair beside me. “If you’re still willing to take me back on board, sir.”
I saw the two senior officers exchange a look and felt worried. Was something the matter? Had they decided against my return? Had they decided I wasn’t fit for duty? But I felt so well, so capable…
“Well, Kathryn,” said Paris. “That’s partly why we asked you here today. We want to hear from you exactly how you are. We want to know what you�
��re ready for.”
I spread my hands out across my knees. “Like I said, it’s been a rough ride. I wasn’t prepared for him to…” It was time to say it loud, way past time to speak the truth. I took a deep breath and said, “I wasn’t prepared for Dad to die. And it knocked me miles off course. Like I’d been…” I searched for the right words. “Picked up by a tornado and swept into a world that didn’t make sense.” Like Dorothy, I thought, whisked off to Oz. I was glad that some of her nerve, her grit and determination, had come back to me.
Pandey leaned forward, chin resting on her hands, and studied me carefully. That commander’s look. Are you fit? Are you ready? Are you able? “And now, Kathryn?”
“I’m better. Things make sense again. It was a horrible accident, and it wasn’t fair. But I can’t do anything about that, so I need to concentrate on the things that I can do, and let…” I gave a sad smile. “Let grief take its course. I want to get back to work, and I’m ready to get back to work.”
Again, she and Captain Paris glanced at each other. “All right,” said Paris, relaxing back in his chair. “I’m glad to hear that. Because we do have a posting for you—although we want to hear first whether you want it.”
My ears pricked up. “I’m grateful for the opportunity, sir.”
“You might not have heard,” he said, “but Flora Kristopher is moving on.”
I hadn’t heard. “Oh, that’s a big loss to the ship, sir!”
“I know!” he said. “But it’s a fine opportunity for her, and one that will take her back to her real work.”
“Where’s she going?”
“Over to the U.S.S. Cúchulainn,” Paris said. “They’re heading across to some of the worlds being settled by Bajoran refugees to work there on soil reclamation projects.”
I’d heard from my mother about these projects. Bajorans fleeing the Occupation hadn’t had much choice about where to settle, and some of the places where they’d landed were largely barren worlds. This was a good and practical way in which Starfleet and the Federation could help them, and I was not surprised to learn that Flora had been persuaded to become involved. It was a chance for her to use her technical expertise to achieve genuine good.
“That’s a great move for her, sir,” I said.
“It’s where her heart is,” he agreed. “But, unfortunately, it does leave me without a chief science officer.”
“Who do you have in mind, sir?” I said. I started running through a list of names of likely candidates, but nobody on the Al-Batani came to mind. Kristopher had been young for the job and had been building up a young team. I’d been part of that cohort of new cadets, serving under Paris as their first posting.
“Well, Kathryn,” said Paris, “the job’s yours if you want it.”
I stared at him. “Me?”
“It will mean promotion, of course. To lieutenant, junior grade,” he said. “But it will also mean being away from Earth for a long period of time. We have a new mission.”
“Sir, I don’t know what to say…” I was deeply touched by this offer. For him to show this much faith in me, after the difficult time I had been through.
“Perhaps,” said Pandey, “you’d like to hear about the mission before you make your decision.”
I was still reeling from the offer. “Yes please, Admiral.”
Paris passed over a padd and began his briefing. “The Al-Batani is being sent out to the Arias system.”
I had heard about the system. About a year ago, some interesting massive compact halo objects had been identified out there which required closer analysis. The problem was that the system was extremely close to the Cardassian border, and the class of ship that was generally assigned these kinds of exploratory and analysis missions was not sufficiently well equipped to defend itself against attack. I listened to Paris describe the scientific objectives of the mission for a while, but he said nothing about the proximity of the system to the border. He wrapped up his briefing.
“Any questions, Kathryn?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Is this only a scientific mission?”
He began to laugh. “No fooling you, is there? Our other purpose is to gather intelligence about Cardassian fleet movements along the border. That part of the mission is of course classified, and you’ll not discuss that outside of this room, please.”
“Absolutely not, sir.”
Pandey said, “There’s also a strong chance of encountering hostile forces, and of direct combat. What I want to know—and what Owen here also wants to know—is, are you ready?”
I thought about this. Was I ready? “Can anyone really be ready for combat, Admiral? I’m trained for it.”
“Good answer,” she said. “The other thing that I want you to be clear about is that this is going to be a lengthy mission, Kathryn. Several years. Are you ready for that too? Do you need to remain near home for a while longer?”
I could see why she would ask. But throughout that day, something had been lifting from me, some burden of grief. I felt as if I had been pushing against a door that suddenly opened and I was stepping out into the light of morning.
“I know why you’re asking, Admiral. I’ve had a serious downswing. But I’m through. It’s done. I’m ready for this mission—more than that, I’m eager for this mission. I want to get back to work.”
A third time they looked at each other. This time they were smiling.
“Told you so,” said Paris.
“I didn’t doubt for a second,” replied Pandey. She rose from her seat, and therefore so did we, and she came around the desk and stood before me. Reaching into her pockets, she brought out my new insignia. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Janeway.”
“Thank you, Admiral. Thank you, sir.”
We saluted each other. I felt marvelous—buoyed up, lifted up. It was a feeling as good as flying. I’d come back from the edge, and now two of the senior officers I most respected were signaling their trust in me. I’d be damned if I would let them down.
Paris reached out to shake my hand. “I wish Ted could be here to see this,” he said. His voice was surprisingly hoarse.
“Me too, sir,” I said.
“He would be damn proud of you, Kathryn.”
I clasped his hand more tightly. I felt the need to console him, rather than to receive consolation. “Thank you, sir.”
He cleared his throat. “Well. A good morning’s work. Get your gear together, Lieutenant; I expect you back on board the Al-Batani in thirty-six hours.”
“I’ll be there, sir.”
Suddenly his eyes twinkled with mischief. I knew that look, and I didn’t trust it.
“Something the matter, sir?”
“Only that I’ve saved the best surprise till last,” said Paris.
“Surprise, sir?”
“I have a new chief of security.”
“Oh yes, sir?” I said blithely. “Anyone I know?”
* * *
“Lieutenant Janeway,” said Lieutenant Commander Tuvok.
“Sir,” I replied, as calmly as I could manage. Of all the damn dirty tricks, Owen Paris, I thought. It’s not as if I would have refused the mission or the promotion, but he hadn’t needed to be so gleeful about revealing the identity of his new security chief, and he didn’t need to send me to the transporter room to welcome him aboard. People who said that Owen Paris didn’t have a sense of humor didn’t know him. He did have a sense of humor, and it was damn twisted.
“I’m delighted to report that you are clear of weapons, sir,” I said, dryly. “Welcome aboard the Al-Batani.”
Tuvok raised a puzzled eyebrow. “Lieutenant Janeway, thank you for the welcome. The regulations with regard to weapons only apply when less than twelve hours’ notice has been given of arrival. I was assigned to the Al-Batani two months ago and confirmed my day and time of arrival immediately. The regulation therefore is not relevant in this instance. Nevertheless, I commend your diligence.” He stepped off the transporter pad. “I believe
I am expected in the captain’s ready room. I would be grateful if you could direct me there.”
Paris had asked me to bring him along. “This way, Commander Tuvok,” I said with a sigh. I’d learned my first lesson of dealing with him: sarcasm would be taken at face value, and completely miss the mark. Either that, or he had forgotten me completely. Just another cocky ensign who needed teaching a lesson. Well, I could work with that. I certainly wasn’t that ensign any longer. We walked along the corridors toward the bridge, Tuvok’s hands clasped behind his back. I gave the usual spiel, although I was sure that he would have familiarized himself completely with the ship’s specifications within twenty-four hours of receiving the assignment. Nevertheless, he listened gravely and attentively, and asked questions which showed he was taking on board everything that I said.
I delivered him to the door of the ready room in one piece. Paris was sitting behind his desk, smirking at me. I risked a small glare back. “Nice to see you two making friends,” he said. “Always good to have senior staff who get along.”
Tuvok turned to me. “Lieutenant Janeway,” he said, “allow me to thank you for your attention this morning. I have followed your career with interest since our first meeting, and I have heard only excellent reports. I am looking forward to serving alongside you.”
That took the wind out of my sails. “I… Well. Thank you, Commander. I… look forward to serving alongside you too.” I nodded to Paris, who was looking too damned pleased with himself. “Dismissed, sir?”
“Yes, thank you, Janeway.”
I left, and the door closed behind me. “Well,” I said. Looked like Tuvok wasn’t going to be such a pain in the damn neck after all.
* * *
“That man,” I said to Laurie Fitzgerald, the CMO on the Al-Batani and my closest friend on board, “is a damn pain in the neck.”
He laughed. “Commander Tuvok does have a knack of rubbing you up the wrong way, Kate.”
The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway Page 9
