Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide

by Kirsten Beyer

  Kathryn smiled. The Doctor was clearly testing her. Fortunately, she knew she would pass. Her former fiancé, Mark, had first introduced her to Dante, but long after their relationship had ended, she had learned to love the ancient poet on his own merits. “La Vita Nuova,” she replied.

  The Doctor then recited a passage Kathryn had found particularly instructive. “In the book which is my memory, on the first page of the chapter that is the day when I first met you appear the words: ‘Here begins a new life.’ ”

  “I told you it was relevant,” Kathryn nodded as tears began to fall freely from her eyes.

  “Kathryn?” the Doctor said, visibly choking on his own emotions, and now obviously quite convinced of her identity.

  The admiral didn’t know who moved first to close the space between them, but she soon found herself held tightly in his arms.

  “Doctor,” Cambridge said, interrupting the moment, “are you absolutely certain that this is Kathryn Janeway?”

  The Doctor pulled back from the embrace but still held Kathryn at arm’s length. His smile was wide and joyful. “I’m not saying I know how this was done. And right now, I don’t care. And while I can’t speak for the Q, I am certain that if anyone could have saved her, Kes most certainly would have.”

  Cambridge’s confusion shifted to a tentative bemusement, but Captain Eden looked as if she had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. To her credit, she quickly assumed a professional manner and approached to within a meter of the Doctor and Janeway.

  “Welcome aboard, Admiral,” she said, extending her hand.

  Kathryn accepted it. She knew Eden to be a dedicated, extremely competent officer, and pleasant to work with. The only mark against her was Eden’s support of Admiral Willem Batiste’s ludicrous proposal to return Voyager to the Delta Quadrant to gather further intelligence about the Borg. Sometime in the last fourteen months, Starfleet must have agreed to Batiste’s plan. Kathryn was anxious to learn what had brought this about, but was mindful that this was the least of her worries.

  “While I was with the Q, I learned of a threat perceived by one of the Continuum’s members—my godson, actually.”

  “Please, tell me—no,” the Doctor replied immediately.

  “He’s matured since the last time you saw him, Doctor,” Kathryn assured him. “He shared with me compelling evidence that during Voyager’s first mission to the Delta Quadrant, the one that took twenty-three years,” she continued, hoping that the Doctor would follow; he had lived through the days that saw the arrival of the future Admiral Janeway and her successful efforts to bring Voyager home, “we encountered something that had a massive effect on the multiverse. By changing Voyager’s history, that something was erased, and the effects rippled out to this point in time. I need to find out what that something was and, if possible, determine what woud have been the likely course of action of the Voyager of the original timeline. If I cannot, Q’s existence may end, and that is something I am not willing to allow.”

  Now that she’d actually put it into words, Kathryn realized what a tall order she’d undertaken and how many ways she might fail to meet it.

  “I grant you, it’s a good reason for the Q to have spared your life,” Cambridge offered, “but unless they also provided you with a lot more information, I’m not sure how we’re going to be able to help you.”

  “We should alter course to a position where it is possible to speak in real time with Starfleet Command and apprise them of the situation,” Eden said hesitantly. “The fleet is set to regroup following several weeks of exploration, and although we do have other pressing priorities at the moment, well, to be honest, I have no idea what Command is going to make of this.”

  Kathryn nodded as a voice she did not recognize called out over the comm. “Drafar to sickbay.”

  “Go ahead, Commander,” Eden replied.

  “Are you fully recovered, Captain?” Drafar inquired.

  Recovered? Kathryn suddenly remembered that Eden had been on the biobed when she had first appeared.

  “I am, Commander,” Eden replied.

  “Please report to the bridge. We’ve just finished long-range scans of our destination.”

  Eden turned to Cambridge, obviously at a loss.

  “Before you regained consciousness, Commander Drafar advised us that he had received an emergency distress call from the Quirinal and was setting course to intercept.”

  Eden nodded. “Commander, please forward the data to sickbay. I will evaluate it from here.”

  There was too long a pause, in Kathryn’s opinion, before Drafar said, “Begging your pardon, Fleet Commander, I would prefer to brief you on the data privately.”

  Concern flashed across Eden’s face as she replied, “Understood. I’ll be right there.”

  Kathryn didn’t know how much she had missed, but the glances exchanged between Eden, Cambridge, and the Doctor clearly indicated that she had arrived in the middle of what was an incredibly complex situation.

  “Gentlemen,” Eden said seriously, “we will continue to discuss the other issue as soon as there is time. Until then, I trust I can count on your discretion.”

  Whatever it is, she doesn’t want me to know about it, Kathryn realized.

  Eden turned back to Janeway. “While we’re gone, Doctor, I’d like you to prepare all possible evidence that this truly is Admiral Janeway. I’m not doubting your word, or your impressions, Admiral, but we all know that many alien species have successfully impersonated Starfleet personnel in the past. Doctor, I think we have to be absolutely certain before news of her presence here is further disseminated.”

  “Of course,” the Doctor replied.

  “If the Q are involved,” Cambridge added, “I don’t think we can rule out that this is some trickery on their part.”

  For the first time, doubt flittered across the Doctor’s face.

  “I will submit to any test you require,” Kathryn acknowledged. “I agree that before anyone else is advised, you should all be satisfied of the truth of what I have said.”

  With a brisk nod, Eden left the room.

  “Counselor, if you will excuse us?” As Cambridge left the sickbay, the Doctor gestured toward the biobed Eden had recently vacated and said, “I know how you always hated a physical, Admiral, but in this case, I’m afraid I have no choice.”

  “Of course,” Kathryn replied, wondering how she was going to prove who she was if even the Doctor, who knew her so well, was still skeptical.

  As she made herself comfortable and the Doctor set to work at the terminal beside the biobed, Kathryn was struck by the fact that the conversation she’d just had would be the first of many difficult ones to come.

  Fourteen months? That meant her death had been confirmed and some sort of memorial had been held. As she hurried past this distasteful thought, her heart caught in her chest.

  Chakotay.

  In a way it was odd that at no time during her interlude with the Q had Kathryn considered how he might be doing. Upon her return, he was the first person she had hoped to see. Her arrival on Achilles had forced her to set that aside and focus on the problem before her. She wondered if he had learned of her death before, or after, she had missed their date in Venice. For her, nothing had changed. The love they had finally admitted, and consummated, had left her more at peace than at any other time in her life. Kathryn had half expected that once Voyager’s mission to the Yaris Nebula was concluded, one or both of them might resign their commissions in order to be together. In any event, she had been confident they would find a solution, since she was content to realign her priorities to include a more permanent relationship.

  Fourteen months . . .

  There was no telling what that might mean.

  So focused had she been on the larger problem Q had laid before her, she had failed to consider the possibility that—once the matter of confirming her identity was resolved—she would not be able to pick up where she had left off with Chakotay, and
all of her other friends and loved ones.

  “Did you actually see Kes?” the Doctor asked as he worked, interrupting her musings.

  “Yes.”

  “She is well?”

  “She seemed so,” Kathryn said. “She was certainly not the same woman who appeared on Voyager the last time we saw her. In fact, Kes said as much, though I didn’t really understand it.”

  Nodding, the Doctor raised a smaller scanner to her head and began a slow and methodical evaluation.

  “She has a son,” Kathryn went on, still warmed by the memory of their brief reunion.

  “I know.” He smiled. “I was there—Oh.” He stopped himself so abruptly that Kathryn turned to him with concern.

  “What?”

  At this, the Doctor turned away and began to carefully study an image of her brain now visible on the screen.

  “Hmm,” was his frustrating response.

  When he didn’t immediately follow that with an explanation, Kathryn said, “Doctor, I know this has been a tough few minutes, but I’d like more than single-syllable responses from you when I ask a question. You’re not the only one who is trying to come to grips with this.”

  “I’m sorry, Admiral,” he replied, turning again to face her. “It’s just . . . I’ve discovered something unexpected.”

  “Unexpected? Is it possible you mean more unexpected?”

  “Over the years we served together, you sustained several injuries, some small, some large, and one in particular that was cause of significant concern near the end of our fourth year in the Delta Quadrant.”

  Kathryn searched her memory, but for the life of her, couldn’t remember.

  “Do you mean at the beginning of our fourth year, when you were forced to place me in a coma?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You don’t remember because you were never meant to remember. I did not heal these particular injuries. Kes’s son, Kol, did. And he warned us that were you to ever come in contact with any information regarding the incident, his work could be undone and the resulting damage would kill you. The ship’s logs were purged and the rest of the crew ordered to maintain their silence—an order they all followed most willingly.”

  “Then why are you telling me about it now?” Kathryn wondered in alarm.

  “There was significant scarring of your neural tissues—nothing that would inhibit normal brain functions. That scar tissue, along with any evidence of other past injuries, is no longer present. It seems that when Kes, or the Q, repaired the damage to your body, they improved on the original.”

  Kathryn smiled in relief. “I think I know how that happened. There was a moment during what I experienced,” she said, struggling to explain it clearly, “when Kes intervened, ordering my atoms to revert to their most perfect state. She did this to prevent me from returning in the form in which the Borg left me.”

  “As always, Kes seems to have exceeded expectations,” the Doctor said.

  “I’ll say.”

  “I wouldn’t,” an all too familiar voice said.

  Turning abruptly, Kathryn saw Q standing before her.

  She was glad to see him. He had been absent from her recent journey, and she still found it hard to shake the idea that he should have been there, that it would have been of interest to him. The stern, angry face he greeted her with made her suddenly regret her enthusiasm.

  “Hello, Q,” the Doctor greeted him. “I owe you a great debt. What you’ve done in returning Admiral Janeway to us is a tremendous gift.”

  “Don’t speak,” Q ordered him fiercely.

  The Doctor tried to reply, but nothing came out. His eyes widened in alarm.

  Turning back to Kathryn, Q said, “So, how does it feel to be among the living again, Kathy?”

  “You can’t possibly be angry with me,” she replied, ignoring his question. With Q, it had always been necessary to cut straight to the point.

  “I can’t?” he replied.

  “It was your son who made this possible. You expect me to believe he didn’t do it with your blessing?” Kathryn asked, amazed.

  “My son is not your concern. He will be dealt with, I assure you.”

  Ice poured through Kathryn’s veins at Q’s words. She had seen Q arrogant, playful, dismissive, contemplative, frightened, and frustrated, but she had never seen him angry.

  “Your death was what we who actually understand the epic complexities of the cosmos refer to as a ‘fixed point in time.’ ”

  “I know,” Kathryn replied, crossing her arms defensively. “I saw it, more times than I like to remember.”

  “You should know that when the multiverse goes out of its way to do anything so thoroughly, it has good reason.”

  “You son had good reason, too,” she argued. “Have you spoken with him about what he’s been going through?”

  Kathryn seemed to score a point here, as Q’s face hardened visibly.

  “I won’t speak for him, but I will ask you this. Did either of you consider, before you made this disastrous mistake, the likely consequences of your actions?”

  “Those remain to be seen,” Kathryn argued, pushing herself off the bed to stand before him. If this was going to be a battle, she was damn sure going to meet it on her feet.

  “For you, perhaps,” Q replied. “But I’m still reeling from the arrogance you’ve just displayed.”

  “Then let me get you a mirror,” Kathryn shot back.

  Q nodded, stung, but went on, “Then you really believe that the multiverse can’t continue without you?”

  “Of course it can,” she said, her anger rising. “This isn’t about me.”

  At this, Q shook his head. “You believe that. But you have no idea what you’ve done here.”

  “A sentient being whom I care a great deal about asked me for help. I agreed. That’s all.”

  “No,” he corrected her. “You’ve just trampled all over the laws of space and time again,” he said with great emphasis. “I know they make you people study temporal mechanics, and I know the greater mysteries are beyond you, but at some point this must stop.”

  Kathryn suddenly found herself wondering if her new life was going to be considerably shorter than she’d planned.

  “For every transgression such as this, there is a price to be paid. The last time you took it upon yourself to alter history—for the mere convenience of getting your motley band of travelers home a little earlier than was fated—the Borg took considerable umbrage. Your destruction of their transwarp hub did not cripple them, as you’d hoped. It pissed them off. They made it their sole mission to wipe humanity from existence. But for a truly alarming confluence of events, the Borg would have succeeded. That cube you so casually decided to study wasn’t the worst of it, my dear. A Borg armada followed, and sixty-three billion people lost their lives before the threat was ended.”

  “What?” Kathryn barely whispered.

  “Returning from the dead?” Q continued. “I don’t even want to know the price the multiverse will extract for this one. You’ll want to bear that in mind before you consider wading any more deeply into my son’s affairs.”

  A bright flash heralded his departure before Kathryn could say another word. Suddenly dizzy, she turned and grabbed the side of the biobed for support. The Doctor was soon at her side, gently helping her to sit again.

  “Is this true?” she asked, as her heart began to pound and a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach.

  “Yes,” the Doctor replied gently. “However, I don’t believe it’s fair to place the blame for what the Borg did on you.”

  “Sixty-three billion?” The number was too huge to even contemplate.

  “Several planets were completely destroyed, and hundreds of vessels,” the Doctor admitted, though it clearly pained him to do so. “But that wasn’t the whole story. The Borg were actually spawned from another incredibly advanced species, the Caeliar. They intervened and accepted the Borg into their gestalt. The Borg are gone now, Admiral. We�
��ve returned here to confirm it, and so far, it seems to be true. You do not bear any responsibility for the Borg’s actions, and the ultimate result, despite the unthinkable price, was better than the alternative.”

  “Better than it taking a few more years for us to get home?”

  “Please,” the Doctor chided her. “The Borg were coming for the Federation. It was only a matter of time. You know that. Everyone knows that. But because they came when they did, the Caeliar were there to stop them. Ten, twenty, thirty years later, that might not have been the case.”

  Kathryn knew he was attempting to comfort her. Her hands were ice, and a dull ache thudded with a constant refrain, sixty-three billion . . . sixty-three billion.

  “Admiral, please,” the Doctor said more sternly. “At the very least, we can eliminate the concern that you might be a Q masquerading as Kathryn Janeway.”

  “That much I already knew,” she murmured.

  Suddenly, a new thought cut sharply through the miasma. Q was angrier with his son than with her. Was it possible that her resurrection was the cause of whatever fate awaited his son? She hated temporal mechanics with a passion, but her brief glimpse of reality, from the Q’s vantage point, had opened her mind to the many ways in which cause and effect could transpose with one another.

  No, she decided. The darkness she had tasted was something else, something even Q might not yet perceive. It was near at hand, or she wouldn’t have been sent back at this precise moment.

  What is happening here and now?

  Pushing herself off the biobed on trembling legs, Kathryn moved to the Doctor’s data terminal. She attempted to call up the display of the emergency transmission the Achilles had just received. Naturally, it was classified, but there were ways around that for an admiral. Her personal command codes would already have been deleted, but with a few less orthodox commands, Kathryn soon found what she was looking for.

  At first, the image on the screen before her made no sense. The Doctor had moved to stand behind her, and the moment it became clear, he uttered a sharp cry.

  “No,” he said.

  The admiral studied the image for a few more seconds, then said quietly, “Doctor, where is Voyager?”