The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway

by Una McCormack

  “As you know, Kathryn, I have been able to study you across the whole of your career so far. I saw you at the very start, making elementary mistakes, and I saw you the day before you left to take up this posting. I am pleased to say that by that time you had evolved into a capable young officer. It is not possible for you to control your captain’s emotions, nor is it your responsibility. I see no reason why this should have changed in the short months since we have been serving together. Therefore, I must conclude that the problem does not lie with you, but with your commanding officer. And a commanding officer who squanders such as resource as an officer like you is not acting rationally.

  “Whatever irrational impulses motivate Captain Ward are his responsibility. What you are able to do is control your own response. Therefore, I would say that it is for you to determine whether this situation is tolerable for you, or whether it has become intolerable. There are clear benefits to you in remaining on the Billings. You are young to be put in command of a large team. To ask to be transferred would, in some quarters, be seen as an admission of failure. This may affect your route to captaincy, which I suspect is not something you are prepared to sacrifice simply for the sake of avoiding Ward. One alternative, then, is to treat your relationship quite logically—as a kind of transaction. A means to an end. Do your duty to the best of your ability. Act in good faith. Take all that you require from this posting in terms of experience, and, when the time is propitious, move on.”

  I took his advice to heart. When I was dealing with the captain, I thought of myself as Vulcan. I responded logically, accurately, precisely, and unemotionally. I stuck to data and evidence and kept away from conjecture. It’s hard to fault someone when their facts are straight. He tried to find fault (after all, not everyone wants to act in good faith), but he was rarely able to do it, and that brought a little job satisfaction, even if it never brought much in the way of thanks or praise.

  But I am not Vulcan, and I could not cut my emotions out entirely. I was too sociable to be able to sit alone in my quarters every night for another four years, and I was damned if I was going to do so. Screwing up my courage, I decided to make some friends. I started tentatively, inviting two of my lieutenants over to my quarters for dinner, then, as my confidence returned (and they began to realize I wasn’t so standoffish after all), I began to get the whole team to socialize together. Soon I began to find my feet again. Invitations from people began to arrive. I joined the Velocity team—there’s nothing like helping your team win a few games to make your colleagues fonder of you! I began to find my way again. I began to feel more like Kathryn Janeway.

  And I began to find out that it wasn’t just me with reservations about Ward. Quite a few of my team didn’t like their new captain very much either. The ship had changed since Vas had left, they said. Ward’s an empire builder, one said. He’s only using this ship as a stepping-stone to something else, said another. He plays people against each other, said yet another. No, they didn’t like him at all, and they missed their old captain immensely. We were well into my second year, and when I asked my colleagues why nobody had brought this up before, they looked embarrassed. I’d arrived at the same time, they said, and I’d got associated with him in their minds. And I’d been so damn serious! No fun at all! They thought I was part of the new regime. They weren’t sure I was on their side.

  Well, there’s a lesson about isolating yourself. I saw that I had been failing my team in a significant way: part of my role as their commander was to act as a buffer between them and the captain, to make sure that his irrationalities didn’t affect them. It wasn’t an easy situation but knowing that I was actively improving my team’s day-to-day life went a long way to making me feel better about being on board ship. We all wanted to see this mission through, and, part of my role, I realized now, was to make sure that my team were not affected by the maelstrom of difficult emotions swirling around and the unhappy environment in which we found ourselves. I wish things had been different on the Billings (not least that I had served under the previous captain), but I learned valuable lessons there which stood me in good stead on board Voyager. You can learn as much from a bad captain as you can from a good captain: how not to motivate people; how not to get a team to come together; how not to build trust and loyalty. If I’m ever in doubt, I think, “What would Ward do?” and I do the opposite.

  * * *

  The irony of all this is that Cardassian–Federation relations were the best they had been in decades. An armistice had been signed in 2367, considerably easing tensions between us, and, while there were still numerous incidents around the border, the feeling was that peace was now a real possibility, and the word was that the top brass and the diplomats were hard at work on a treaty. This became even more likely when the Cardassians announced that they were withdrawing from Bajor. I remember being in the mess hall with my team when this news came through: the sense of elation, and relief, was enormous. There were one or two Bajoran crew members, and they were in tears. I don’t believe any of us had ever thought we would see that day. It gave us real hope that things had changed for the better, and for good, which seemed to be borne out with the signing, in 2370, of the Federation–Cardassian Treaty, which established the border between our territories, and created the Demilitarized Zone, a buffer zone between us. With the treaty, we all felt that peace was on its way. (Although there were complications that none of us had foreseen, when some of the colony worlds within the DMZ began to realize what the treaty meant for them.)

  In general, however, the mood was positive, and this brought home how petty the situation on the Billings was. It was around this time I received some information from Tuvok that clarified my difficulties with Ward. Tuvok reported to me that the U.S.S. Rotorua had recently stopped off for refitting at Jupiter Station. Tuvok, entering a turbolift, overheard a conversation involving the ship’s chief science officer. It seemed that this person had been expecting a posting on the Billings by the new captain, but it had gone to somebody else.

  “A vice admiral’s daughter,” they said. “You know how it works! And it was promised to me!”

  Several things clicked into place when I heard this. Ward, I guessed, knowing that he was taking on the captaincy of the Billings, must have known that the post of chief science officer had also become vacant, and promised it to his friend. But he was behind on the news: Vas had already assigned me, in more or less one of her last acts before taking ill. Ward arrived on the Billings expecting to be able to promote his crony—only to find Kathryn Janeway, the vice admiral’s daughter, firmly in place, and raring to go.

  This was more or less what I’d come to expect from Ward, but finally having an explanation for his behavior went a long way toward relieving any lingering sense I had that things going wrong was my fault. A further experience I had with him that year reduced any respect I had for my captain to rock bottom: not a happy situation. We had detoured into the Katexa system for a brief survey mission, where we detected some unusual volcanic activity on one of the moons of the fourth world in the system. We all agreed that this was worth closer analysis and consequently took the ship toward the moon. Around this point, having seen some preliminary analysis of the magma flows, I began to have serious misgivings about the whole idea, which I expressed in a meeting of the senior staff.

  “We can get some fine readings from on board ship,” I said. “Not to mention it’ll be a chance to find out whether the adjustments we’ve been making on the forward sensors have been worth the effort.”

  I don’t know whether it was because I was the one who had made the suggestion, but Ward wasn’t having it. He insisted sending down an away team.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure, Janeway?” he said.

  Well, my sense of adventure was fine, thank you very much; my sense of whether it was right to risk an away team in a shuttle on a volcanic moon was simply much stronger. And I’m sad to say that I was proved right: the away team’s shuttle had barely e
ntered the atmosphere when there was a massive magma eruption, badly damaging the craft. There were a couple of hours when we thought that the three crew members were lost. I was furious with Ward. He had ignored my advice—my considered advice, my expert advice—and he had, so far as I could make out, done it for no other reason than spite, risking the lives of three members of his crew. I kept these feelings bottled up while we were trying to find out what the hell had happened to my team, but I was enraged. I knew it; he knew it; and the whole damn ship knew it.

  Eventually, I am glad to report, we were able to retrieve the three members of the away team, but they had some pretty serious injuries. One of them was out of action for a couple of months. The shuttle was a write-off. After everyone was safely back on board, the captain called his senior staff together for a debriefing. I imagine everyone was expecting that I was going to explode in much the same way as that volcano had, but I kept my cool, even as I watched Ward make excuse after excuse. I could see that he wanted to blame this debacle on me in some way. But he couldn’t. The decision to send the away team had been his, and he had made it against the advice of his chief science officer, and in front of the whole senior staff. I let him talk, and I watched as the respect leached away from almost every single person in that room.

  Eventually, he dismissed us all. I waited until the room was empty.

  “Sir,” I said. “Permission to speak freely?”

  “Go ahead, Janeway.”

  “I know that you didn’t want me for this post, but I’m here now, and there’s nothing either of us can do about that. But I sincerely hope, sir, that you won’t ignore my expert advice again. We’re just lucky that nobody was killed today.” I headed for the door. “One more thing,” I said, before I left. “You want those damn readings? You’ll get those damn readings. I’ll go and get them myself— but I’ll go when it’s safe. And I’ll be the one who decides that—based on sound scientific judgement.”

  He got his readings. I was able to go down the next day, by myself, and get them. And the Billings moved on.

  * * *

  As well as Tuvok, I had remained in contact with my old friend Laurie Fitzgerald, CMO on the Al-Batani, who had taken up a surgeon’s post on Caldik Prime. In one of his messages, he passed on some worrying news about our old captain, or, more accurately, his son Tom. It turned out Tom’s career in Starfleet had come to an unpleasant conclusion: he had, it seemed, been the cause of an accident which had led to the tragic death of three officers. Worse, he had tried to cover up his responsibility for the accident but had been found out. He had been cashiered out of Starfleet.

  “I know you liked that kid, Kathryn, but he never impressed me. Careless, cocky—the worst. Owen Paris must be heartbroken.”

  I imagined he was. I sent my old captain a message, saying how sorry I was to hear about his troubles, and I received a kind note back. But I couldn’t help feeling sorry for young Tom, who had always struck me as a young man who was floundering, and never felt quite good enough. This was a tragic end to his career, before it had even had a chance to start. I could only hope that this was not the start of a downward spiral for him, and that he found his way somehow.

  I, meanwhile, was still considering my next move. I had found a way to work on the Billings, and I had earned the respect of my team, and of many of my direct colleagues. But I was never going to earn Ward’s favor. and he was never going to earn my respect. I was never going to be one of his cronies and I didn’t want to be. There was a wider universe out there, as my correspondence with Tuvok reminded me—but I did feel constantly on high alert, ready for the next putdown, or the next sharp word.

  This made my trips back to Earth even more blissful. And one of these occasions, during my fourth year serving on the Billings, just after I’d been promoted to full commander, changed my life. I was visiting Phoebe and Yianem and their tribe, out in Portland, and they invited a friend of Yianem’s over for dinner. “It’s a sad story,” Phoebe said, as we stood together in the kitchen, she busy dressing the salad and me drinking wine. “His wife was killed in a shuttle accident on Mars eighteen months ago. He’s only really started to come out again. He’s still very fragile. We just want him to have some cheerful evenings.”

  Well, I was happy to switch on my charm, such as it is, and I’m pleased to report that their friend, a handsome man of about my age named Mark Johnson, was not immune. He certainly laughed a great deal that evening, more so as my stories about my appalling captain became less and less discreet and more and more pointed. (It did me a world of good to talk about Ward like that too: all of a sudden, he felt ridiculous, rather than powerful.) While Phoebe and Yianem were busy in the kitchen organizing dessert, Mark said, “Are you back on Earth for a while yet, Kathryn?”

  “A couple of months.”

  “That’s good. Are you around Portland for most of that time?”

  “A week or so. Then I’ll visit my mother near Bloomington for a while. I don’t intend to travel much, though. Just take it easy.”

  “And what does ‘take it easy’ mean to Kathryn Janeway? From what your sister says, I imagine you’re planning to climb Everest, or hike across Mongolia—”

  I laughed. “Not this time! I was thinking of getting a dog.”

  “A dog?”

  I looked at him in alarm. “Do you not like dogs?” I don’t trust people who don’t like dogs.

  “I’ve… I’ve never owned a dog. Aren’t they a lot of hard work? Don’t they need a lot of walking?”

  “That’s the general idea,” I said.

  “You’re going to spend your leave walking the dog?”

  “Precisely that. Sounds blissful, doesn’t it?”

  He smiled at me. “Depends on the company, I’d say.”

  “You can’t go wrong with a dog, Mark.”

  “And is the dog sufficient for your purposes, company-wise?”

  “What are you asking, exactly?”

  “I’m asking whether you’d like some company. When you go and walk your dog.”

  “Depends on the company,” I said, with a smile.

  “How about mine?” he said.

  “Then the answer’s yes.”

  After that night, we saw a great deal of each other. He helped me choose my new dog—a very affectionate Irish setter named Mollie, whom I’d seen listed in a pound on Taris Seti IV (she was the runt of the litter, but I sensed a little fighter there, and I’d found a fine kennel for her for when I was away). As promised, he joined me on our walks. I was embarrassed at first—I’d come all this way to see my sister and her family—but she and her wife were warmly encouraging. “I’ve never seen you so serious about someone since the Academy, Kate,” Phoebe said. “I think we all want to know where this is heading.”

  “Oh, Phoebe! We’ve only met half a dozen times!”

  I saw my sister and her wife exchange knowing looks. Is there anything more annoying to a single person than their partnered family and friends? Always so very smug about the whole business, always in a hurry to pair you off! It was hardly as if I’d been living as a nun. I’d had various dalliances during my time on both the Al-Batani and the Billings (no, I won’t say who). It was true, though, that this was the most serious relationship since my near-miss at the Academy.

  “He’s very nice though,” said Phoebe.

  “If he wasn’t nice,” I said, “I wouldn’t be spending time with him.”

  Yianem said, “Remember to be gentle with him, Kathryn, please. He… he’s had a bad time.”

  I hastened to reassure her. “Oh, of course I’ll be gentle! That’s all either of us want. A little tender loving care.”

  Our walks together became a daily fixture, Mollie bounding between us. And the more we walked, the more we opened our hearts to each other. I talked about the trials of serving on the Billings; how much my confidence had been knocked by that first year; how hard I’d worked to earn the trust of my colleagues and to make a few friends. He talked a
bout his wife. How terrible a blow it had been; how sudden (I knew how that might feel); how he’d thought he would never get through some of the long and empty days. “I think because she was away from home when she died, when the shuttle went down,” he said. “I kept expecting her to walk back through the door, complaining about missed flight connections or something… Of course, she never did.”

  He had moved house in the end. Tried to draw a line underneath those years. “They had been so happy—we had been so happy. But eventually you have to admit that they’re finished. That you have to move on.”

  “Like my mother,” I said. “Finding a new way to live. I think it’s about the bravest thing I have ever seen.”

  “Brave!” He shook his head. “Surely what you do is brave!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Fight Cardassians—”

  “You make it sound like I’m in single combat!”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you, Kate!”

  I laughed. Mark always made me laugh. “Well, it’s all a lot less exciting than people think. Mostly I’m on board ship, tracking transmissions, analyzing data—”

  “Ah, you’re spoiling the magic!”

  I looked into his eyes. “I hope not.”

  We stood there for a moment, looking steadily at each other, and then we both moved forward, and shared a kiss. “I think you’re something special, Kathryn Janeway,” he said.

  “I second that emotion, Mark Johnson,” I replied.

  Later that night, when I quietly slipped back into my sister’s house, Mollie asleep in my arms, Phoebe was sitting up waiting for me. She took one look at me, and said, “It’s serious, then.”

  My head was spinning; my heart was dancing. I felt like a girl again. “Phoebe,” I said, “I really think it is.”

  * * *

  I had another two weeks of leave, and I did spend most of it with Mark. (My mother was not in the least put out that I didn’t come home: it seemed that Phoebe had let her know what was going on.) On the last day before I was due to head back, we went out into the woods together, and walked arm in arm under the huge trees.