“Could Sormana’s destruction have been part of his plan?” Farkas asked.
“When Dayne first appeared in the cavern, what did he say?” Cambridge asked of Chakotay.
“He said we were violating your agreement by transporting the torpedoes out,” Chakotay replied.
“He wanted the planet destroyed. He wanted those chroniton pools and transporters destroyed. Not damaged, not buried under a few tons of rock, but obliterated. He could still have saved her and by eliminating Sormana made sure that wherever he planned to go, none of us would be able to follow,” Cambridge insisted.
Reason broke through simmering rage. “Even you mocked his professions of love for her to his face,” Janeway said.
Cambridge shrugged. “It was clear enough he was lying about something. The issue was what? This,” he continued, gesturing toward the image Decan was still studying, “changes everything.”
“You were the original problem, Admiral,” Farkas said. “But all he had to do to make sure you and the denzit died was nothing. Sormana was about to go boom and we were staring down six Krenim warships. I’m not sure he cared one way or the other if we survived, but by allowing us to intervene when and how he did, he ensured Kathryn’s survival.”
Janeway shook her head slowly. “It’s a nice thought. It’s tempting to believe it because if it’s true, our work here is done.” She studied the faces of each of her senior officer in turn and landed on Farkas. “You honestly believe we should just let this go?”
“I think we should consider the possibility,” Farkas said. “We could chase down the Krenim and demand satisfactory answers, but they might not have them. It’s tough not knowing, and yes, I’m going to lose some sleep wondering if she’s still being victimized by those bastards. But I don’t believe it’s in our best interests to go off half-cocked against a species that can predict all of our potential next moves. If we’re going to take this on, we’re going to need better intelligence than we have right now.”
“What if we never find that intelligence?” Janeway asked.
“Why don’t we give it a little more time?” Farkas suggested.
Janeway’s head buzzed and a deep weariness settled itself in her bones. She had been here before, certain she knew what to do and unafraid to do it over the objections of her crew. Some deeper wisdom counseled patience, but that guidance was hard to trust when her fears were so powerful.
“Admiral, did you notice this?” Decan asked, pointing to the image.
Slowly she moved back toward the table. Settling herself beside her aide, she stared at the picture and was struck again by the stark realism of the face. Decan’s fingers grazed the bottom edge of the image, the collar and sleeves of a pale blue dress the child wore. Its edges faded out below her shoulders, but fine, dark blue lines suggested motion in the fabric. He then pointed to a distinctly heavier series of lines.
Janeway squinted at the area where Decan’s fingers rested. They weren’t just more intricate detail. There was a word, almost impossible to discern in their arrangement, but there if you looked hard enough.
“Mollah,” Janeway whispered.
Cambridge was suddenly at her side, peering over her shoulder.
“Where?”
Janeway traced her fingers over the name. Looking into Cambridge’s eyes, she felt tears forming.
A slow, mystified smile spread over his lips. “I don’t think that can possibly be a coincidence, do you?”
BATIBEH
Until the moment they returned to Batibeh, Kathryn Janeway had believed she was experiencing some odd, grief-induced fever dream. The clear skies above, the tall grass, the fragrances of wildflowers, the stone table, brought her back to her senses.
If this was a dream, she no longer cared.
Dayne stood beside her, his face betraying a complicated mix of emotions. Paramount among them was relief.
The village at the base of the hill was not as large as she remembered it. There were fewer structures, but more people. It was still under construction. Men, women, and children roamed about, strolling, talking, working, living as no one on Sormana had lived in any other version of its history.
“When is this?” Kathryn asked.
“Ninety-seven years after the ratification of the Peace of Sormana at this table. One hundred thirteen years, six months, and eleven days prior to your arrival with the admiral’s team.”
“You brought her here?”
Dayne nodded. “Moments after she was born. It was the only place I knew she would be safe.”
“There’s a temporal portal right there,” Kathryn said, turning toward the stone pillar.
“This timeline is a temporal tangent, which means it is inaccessible from any timeline other than yours and only after the transporters are built over the chroniton pools, which won’t happen for another sixty-three years. And we both know now that you were the first to use it. You were the first to look for evidence of a timeline where the war had ended. No one else on Sormana bothered. No one else thought it possible.”
“You created this, and then you changed it?”
Dayne bowed his head. “Long before I met you. Then, I was only thinking of my people.”
“The Krenim.”
“Yes.”
“Was anything you told me about yourself true?”
“I lied to you about my species and the identity of those who captured you. Nothing else.”
“Have you been with her this whole time?”
“I couldn’t. My people could never know she had survived. Even if they had discovered it, they wouldn’t have come here to retrieve her. This is a mistake they have already corrected. They can’t risk further interference here without jeopardizing the entire Imperium.”
“Did you leave her to be raised by wolves?”
“Of course not. When I learned you were going to die, I came here and began to make discreet inquiries. I was looking for a couple who might be willing to take in an orphaned child. Quinn and his wife had just arrived. Apparently they had lost a child of their own. They were more than willing to raise ours. They have told the other residents that she is their niece.
“I assumed at the time that would be the end of it. Then I returned to our timeline and learned you had been brought back from the dead. You can imagine, I am sure, my relief and devastation. My Krenim superiors believed that my work with the Rilnar had ended. I couldn’t convince them otherwise, nor could I return to Sormana. Since that day, my life’s only purpose has been to find a way to bring you home.”
“Thank you,” Kathryn said sincerely. “Does this Quinn know we’re coming?”
“I’ve kept in touch with him, even visited once a few days ago. I needed evidence that would convince you to come with me. He and his wife have understood for a long time that I intended to bring you here. They are prepared to turn over our child to your custody.”
Kathryn nodded somberly.
They began to make their way down the hill. They attracted a few curious stares, but most of the inhabitants paid them no mind. Dayne directed her past the small main street toward a long row of trees where several large dwellings had been erected.
The last house on the end had a blue door. It hung open. Faint scuffling sounds could be heard within.
Kathryn paused at the low stone wall that surrounded the house’s generous grounds. It was almost too much to believe that any of this was real.
A toddler stepped into the doorway on unsteady legs. She laughed in delight as a woman’s voice called after her, “I’m coming to get you.”
With a squeal the child took a few more steps before tripping over her feet and landing in the soft grass. A woman stepped into the doorway. She was tall with a mane of flowing red hair. She wore the same rough homespun clothing as the rest of the villagers. It seemed out of place on her. She carried herself like royalty.
“Mollah,” the woman chided playfully.
Kathryn’s breath caught in her throat as she re
membered the old woman with the bright blue eyes who had shown such concern for her the last time she’d been here. Turning a questioning gaze toward Dayne she asked, “Mollah?”
“You said you wanted to name her for your sister.”
“Phoebe is my sister. Molly was my dog.”
Dayne’s face broke into a wide, somewhat chagrined smile. “Are you sure?”
“Were you ever listening to anything I said?”
Dayne reached for her, but stopped short when she instinctively retreated a few steps.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, it’s just . . .”
“I understand.”
Mollah was engaged in a game of tag with the woman. Kathryn watched her play as a wave of warmth washed over her, setting her extremities tingling.
The child was finally caught and lifted from the ground, laughing in her captor’s face. They turned in a brief dance until the woman caught sight of Dayne and Kathryn. “Hello,” she greeted them.
Her face fell as soon as she recognized them. Kathryn did not know when she had been expected to return, but the mingled sadness and resignation on the woman’s face told her that never might have been soon enough. “Kathryn Janeway,” she said, walking toward them. For her part, Mollah buried her face in the woman’s neck, peeking out shyly between locks of her long, red hair.
“Hello,” Kathryn said.
“Darling?” the woman said in a raised voice.
A man appeared in the doorway. Like her, he was tall. His hair was short and black, his features fine and chiseled. For the first time Kathryn was struck by the fact that both of them appeared to be human.
“There you are,” he said congenially. “Took your own sweet time, didn’t you, Dayne?”
“My apologies, Mister Quinn.”
Quinn waved him off. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.” Shifting his gaze and staring at Kathryn inscrutably he said, “Welcome home, Kathryn.”
Turning to the woman, Quinn nodded. Reluctantly she said, “Mollah, it’s time for you to meet your mother.”
With a little effort, she pried the child from her arms and handed her to Kathryn. Mollah didn’t struggle. She simply stared in wonder at Kathryn’s face.
“Hello, Mollah,” Kathryn whispered.
• • •
Several weeks later, in the middle of the night, Dayne accompanied Quinn and his wife back up the hill toward the stone table. He had met them here the day Mollah was born. It seemed appropriate to bid one another farewell here as well.
After a few days it had become clear to all that Kathryn was adjusting quickly to her new life. She threw herself completely into this existence, refusing to dwell on the darkness of the last several years. Mollah couldn’t make her forget the pain. Kathryn spoke often with Quinn and his wife late into the evening about all she had endured. She feared that her past trauma might have broken her, that for all her love, she might not be the best influence on her daughter. She seemed to envy the simple love that existed between Mollah and her aunt and uncle.
They had counseled patience. In time she would see that her past did not have to define this present. They encouraged her to nurture the tenderness in her heart that Mollah effortlessly evoked. Its opposite lived there too, well fed and watered by circumstance and fear. But in time, those dark shadows could be banished by the light of her new life. In time, she would learn to forgive those who had wronged her, if not for her own sake, for Mollah’s.
The other Keepers accepted Kathryn as eagerly as they had accepted Quinn and his wife. The couple had always introduced themselves as Mollah’s aunt and uncle and had spoken freely about her mother, Kathryn, who would soon join them. The people of this Sormana lived to help one another. Their generous spirits sustained Kathryn as she acclimated and she soon began to find many ways to contribute to the society they were building. From time to time, Dayne, Kathryn, and Mollah journeyed to the grove where the statues of the brothers stood and once, Kathryn had asked Dayne to tell their daughter the whole story of the brothers and all they had achieved. Of necessity, Dayne had eliminated a number of details, but Kathryn had seemed satisfied.
While Dayne had visited daily and gorged himself on the many details of Mollah’s first years as Quinn recounted them to Kathryn and showed her the masterful drawings he had done chronicling Mollah’s development, each night Dayne returned to the Truon, stationed in a temporal fold just outside Sormana’s orbit. There, he could perform the necessary sensor sweeps to assure himself that he had not been discovered and create the false logs that would be necessary to cover his tracks in the future.
Revealed as both Kathryn’s tormentor and savior, Dayne refused to ask anything more of her than a seat at their small table for meals and the opportunity to get to know his daughter. The previous evening, Kathryn had escorted him from her new home, walking with him as far as the low wall that lined the property. She had thanked him again for making all of this possible. For the first time since they had arrived, she had permitted him to embrace her gently and hold her in his arms for a few healing moments.
He had known then that the time had come for him to go. Quinn had agreed.
Dayne had left his wife and daughter sleeping in Kathryn’s bedroom, Mollah nestled in her mother’s arms. A long letter explaining everything else Kathryn needed to know sat on the table by their bed, including the fact that Mollah must be instructed in the basics of temporal mechanics to avoid creating a paradox when Kathryn and the admiral visited Batibeh in a hundred and thirteen years. When she woke in the morning, Kathryn would read it. She would suffer her last betrayal at Dayne’s hands. She would proceed to live the rest of her life in peace among the Keepers.
When they reached the stone table, Quinn paused. His good cheer throughout the evening had been a little forced, as had his wife’s. All three had agreed upon their imminent departure. None anticipated it with any eagerness. Dayne had offered to transport them back to his ship and ferry them wherever they intended to go next. They had refused, indicating that it was unnecessary.
Placing a heavy hand on Dayne’s shoulder, Quinn said, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I do. He’ll never come after her here, but he would hunt me through eternity. I can’t allow that.”
“You’ve done better than I expected.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Dayne turned back toward the village and took his last look at Batibeh, filled with regrets, but no doubts.
• • •
When Dayne had gone, Q turned to her husband. “It went faster than I thought it would.”
“I know.”
“Couldn’t we stay a little longer?”
He turned to her with a kind smile and, placing an arm around her shoulder, pulled her close. “Why make it harder than it has to be? This is Kathryn’s life, not ours.”
“Only because you decided it should be so.”
“I couldn’t help it. Countless Kathryn Janeway’s have inhabited the multiverse and only one chose to create a child. I couldn’t let her die, any more than our son could allow his godmother to die.”
“You could save all of them and it would never be enough.”
“I don’t need to save all of them, just this one. She deserved better.”
“I seem to remember our son making the same argument about his godmother once and you disagreeing strenuously.”
“He also asked me to forgive them. I promised I would. She is the fulfillment of that promise. She is my redemption.”
“He would have loved Mollah.”
Q nodded. As he inhaled deeply, a smile crept over his lips. As he exhaled, his wife sensed the shift and stared up at him in surprise.
“Did you just. . .”
“. . . Sever this timeline from the rest of the multiverse for the rest of Kathryn’s life? Yes, I did. I know it has to be restored eventually, but this is one happy ending no one is going to take away from me.”
; “That’s cheating.”
“I don’t care. He would have approved.”
“Now you’re playing God?”
Q’s gentle smile turned wicked.
“Who’s playing?”
Epilogue
VESTA
Good morning, Admiral Janeway.”
“Captain Chakotay,” Janeway said, pulling on her uniform jacket as she checked herself in the mirror and put a few errant strands of hair back in place.
He hadn’t shared her quarters for the last week. He had hoped she would reach out to him and had been disappointed. He would be departing with Voyager for the Beta Quadrant in a few hours and despite the fact that he knew that eventually they would again make peace, he didn’t like leaving with so much unsettled between them.
“How much are you planning to share with the Nihydron?” Chakotay asked.
“The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” she replied.
The response stung, as she had, no doubt, intended. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”
Kathryn exhaled slowly, crossed to her replicator, and ordered a cup of coffee. After a few sips she said, “I already have. I had to for my own peace of mind. We’ve been down this road before, Chakotay. We’re intelligent, powerful, compassionate people. When we believe we are right, we are rarely compelled by the arguments of others to abandon our position. There is nothing either of us would not sacrifice to secure the safety of those we command. We ask a great deal of each other, sometimes because duty demands it, and sometimes because we know we can. Loving each other means accepting all of it, even the worst we have to offer each other.
“Much as I might have wanted to at first, I cannot lay the blame for this one entirely at your feet. We teach others how to treat us. If you honestly believed me incapable of choosing the right course had I known of the child’s existence, it’s because I have yet to show you otherwise.”
“That’s not true.”
“No?”
“You and I haven’t enjoyed any length of time together uncomplicated by the needs of the fleet or this mission. You’ve made choices since you returned that I found disturbing. In the fullness of time, however, I’ve come to see that usually when that happens it’s because you’re thinking a few steps ahead of me. It’s unnerving. I’m supposed to know you better than anyone and when I start to lose my bearings, I tend to look at the past for guidance. It occurs to me now how great a mistake that is. Neither of us is operating from our old technical manuals. We’re in new, uncharted territory.”
Star Trek: Voyager: A Pocket Full of Lies Page 39
