Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide

by Kirsten Beyer

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Afsarah Eden,” Q said. “I haven’t lived as long as my parents, but I’ve come to understand this about the multiverse: on its deepest level, it strives for harmony. It’s beyond small concerns, but it moves the living on paths that lead to opportunities for renewed balance. It’s not personal. It’s not an individual consciousness. It is countless parts, in constant motion that over time must ultimately end. But how much time that process takes matters. To end the life of this multiverse prematurely, or to remove from it the creative force of the Q Continuum, is wrong. You must feel that as I do. Neither of us caused this catastrophe. But we are the only ones in existence with the ability to contain the damage. It’s why we’re here, even though neither your father nor mine would have it be so.”

  “Afsarah, you don’t have to destroy the Q Continuum to solve this,” Janeway pleaded.

  “What if he’s wrong?” Eden asked.

  “Then he’s wrong.” Janeway added, “But this is the only option that does not require you to completely abandon the humanity that was as much a part of your creation as Omega.”

  “Please,” Q asked of Eden.

  Eden closed her eyes and bowed her head. The white aura surrounding her blazed, enveloping the entire battle bridge. Janeway automatically raised her hands to shield her eyes. When the moment had passed, Eden stood before them, human once again.

  “All is as it was,” she said softly to the young Q. Turning to Janeway, she added, “Humanity is a stubborn thing, Kathryn Janeway. It hopes, even when all hope is gone.”

  “It does,” Janeway agreed.

  Eden extended her hand to Q.

  “Thank you, Aunt Kathy,” he said simply. Turning to his parents, he said solemnly, “I want you to remember something. Humanity was part of my creation too. The most important lessons I learned in my life—and many of yours, I imagine, as well—were through them. You won’t want to, but I ask that you forgive them.”

  His mother nodded mutely, but his father’s face hardened.

  “Father?” Q asked.

  “I’ll try,” he finally replied.

  Q nodded, then turned back to Eden and extended his hand.

  The instant their hands touched, the battle bridge was bathed in light so harsh, so bright that Janeway felt its heat roaring through her. It no longer mattered that this might be the last moment of her life. She had done what she’d come back to do. It wasn’t everything she might have wished for, but it was enough.

  • • •

  In the beginning, there was light, all consuming, followed by darkness so complete, Kathryn Janeway wondered if she, and her godson, might have been wrong after all. But this darkness, unlike the one she had briefly shared with Q, was still warm, as if the radiant light that preceded it could not be erased.

  As her eyes began to adjust, the familiar lines of Voyager’s battle bridge slowly took shape, and Kathryn realized she was prone on the deck. As she pulled herself up, her eyes were drawn to the main viewscreen.

  It was empty but for a few distant pinpoints of light.

  The stars.

  Kathryn moved to the conn. With leaden fingers, she worked the console and called up the drive section’s current position and heading. It confirmed they were still in the same section of calm, open space, and hadn’t moved since Eden and Q had departed.

  A muffled whimper startled her. At the back of the bridge, Q was holding his wife. Her head was buried in his shoulder and her body was racked with convulsive sobs.

  “He did it,” Kathryn said softly.

  Q’s cold, appraising eyes were beyond angry.

  “You did this,” he said, biting the words out one by one, judging her once and for all.

  “You should be proud of him,” Kathryn insisted. “If ever there was an example of exemplary Q-ness, this must—”

  “Silence,” Q castigated her.

  At this, his wife raised her head and looked at him in fearful wonder.

  “Q,” she said, her disappointment evident.

  “No,” Kathryn said, finally taking hold of her own righteous indignation. In what had felt like a matter of days, she’d endured life, assimilation, death, resurrection, unspeakable loss, and now, to her complete surprise, more life. If there was something else the multiverse had to show her, it could just bring it.

  “You know I was right. Don’t you dare diminish his sacrifice by pretending there was another choice. Don’t . . . you . . . ever . . . dare.”

  A visible shudder passed over Q.

  “You could have stopped him,” Kathryn continued. “Your power was restored before he took her hand. But you didn’t, because you knew what had to be.”

  “He would never have forgiven us,” Q’s mother acknowledged.

  After a long pause, Kathryn asked, “Q?”

  “You have made an enemy of me today, Kathryn Janeway,” Q replied. “I know you led my son here, and that but for you, he would still be with us.”

  With that, he snapped his fingers and vanished.

  The agony carved into his wife’s face seemed to age her, but her eyes held none of her husband’s fury. Through her tears, she said, “He’ll come around. I’ll make him see reason.”

  Kathryn nodded, absolutely certain that would never happen.

  Then she vanished.

  Kathryn Janeway was alone.

  Duty demanded that she move back to the command chair and hail the saucer section. Something infinitely stronger kept her rooted where she stood. The crisis had passed, but the price of peace had been intolerably high.

  The only sensation of which she was now aware was emptiness. Every loss she had ever known had been defined by burning, aching, sickening anguish directly proportional to the amount of love she had felt for what had been lost. But this was something new. There were no tears to be shed, no icy shudders to be stilled. The absence was beyond physical sensation. It was impossible that she could continue to draw breath now that so much of herself was gone.

  One breath . . .

  No.

  . . . one moment . . .

  No, please, no.

  . . . one day . . .

  That Chakotay’s counsel should return to her now was no surprise. The sixty-three billion, and the seven hundred eighty-five, Amanda, her godson: these were losses that would haunt her forever . . . but Chakotay.

  Chakotay . . .

  His loss would remain fresh, would return with crippling force, building in intensity rather than diminishing.

  One breath . . .

  Kathryn Janeway inhaled.

  One moment . . .

  With strength that was not her own, Kathryn stepped toward the command chair.

  One day at a time.

  Accepting the unacceptable, banishing Q’s vengeful rage, Kathryn steadied herself and sat in the battle bridge’s center seat.

  A few more breaths and she would find the additional strength she required to send for the saucer section. But she would allow herself as much time as she wanted now to try and remember what it was like to live as a whole person, rather than one recently excavated.

  Her heart was the first casualty to show signs of life. It erupted in her chest, pounding fitfully as a bright flash of light sliced through the dusky shadows directly in front of her.

  Q.

  She hadn’t expected him to return quite so quickly. But maybe it was for the best, if it put an end to this thing she no longer wanted to call living.

  A figure stepped out of the shadows.

  “Chakotay?” she said with the faintest of breaths.

  This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This is a test, a punishment, Q’s first strike against me.

  Chakotay stood stock-still, taking in his surroundings in obvious confusion. His hands rose to his chest as he took a moment to assure himself that he was all there. Finally, his eyes met hers.

  “Kathryn?”

  At the sound of her name, she rose on unsteady legs.

&nb
sp; “I have a message for you, from Q,” Chakotay went on.

  Absolutely certain she did not want to hear it, she nodded automatically.

  His eyes began to glisten. “The son, not the father. He said not to worry about the price for your choice anymore. This one was on him.”

  In an instant, every cell in Kathryn Janeway’s body was pulsing with incoherent energy. Then, she was in Chakotay’s arms. She fell into him, unable to repress the sobs that burst forth from the center of her soul.

  BETA QUADRANT

  Miles Jobin came to consciousness with a sickening lurch. He had fallen asleep, as he often did, in his pilot’s chair with his head tipped forward and a shooting pain now rose up the back of his neck.

  He began to pull himself upright in his chair, a procedure that these days could take up to five minutes. He began by firmly gripping the armrests, but he was stopped by an unusual sensation. Ignoring the ancient aches in every limb, Jobin pulled himself forward using his console. He blinked several times before assuring himself that what the nav computer indicated was true.

  “I’m dreaming,” he said aloud.

  He had to be.

  Nothing else could explain his new coordinates, several hundred kilometers from the fixed point his shuttle had occupied for almost forty years.

  “You’re not,” a familiar voice came from behind him.

  “Of course I am,” Jobin replied, too weary even for his despair.

  “Afsarah did it.”

  In all the times Jobin’s subconscious had played with this particular fantasy, he had never heard these words. Swiveling his chair around, he saw Tallar, his shoulders stooped, his hair and beard a tangled gray mass, and his eyes almost vacant.

  Jobin was on his feet before his body could protest. He stepped toward Tallar, but stopped short of touching him, certain that when he reached out, the illusion would vanish.

  “She came home,” Tallar said, as relief, anger, and sadness lit the vacancy behind his eyes.

  “Did you see her?” Jobin demanded.

  Tallar nodded.

  “And what . . . ?”

  “She said we had suffered too long. She thanked us for the life we gave her. She swore that it was more than enough. She said we made it possible for her to do what she must. She asked that we remember the love, only the love.”

  Jobin stepped close enough to Tallar to feel his body’s heat. With shaking arms, he reached out, and as soon as his fingers brushed Tallar’s arm, he pulled him close.

  Tallar stood rigidly, saying, “She forgave us. She forgave us.” Again and again.

  “Tallar, it’s me,” Jobin admonished him, and at that, Tallar’s frail, painfully thin body relaxed against his.

  They stood like that for several minutes, relearning the feeling of touching another body before Jobin asked, “How do we forgive ourselves?”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  VOYAGER

  Captain’s Log, Stardate 58696.6

  After successful reintegration of the saucer and drive sections of the ship, we remained in the area for forty-seven hours, running continuous scans. No traces of the Omega anomaly were detected. The damage to space and subspace was reversed. Though our losses continue to weigh heavy, it appears that the sacrifice of our former fleet commander, Captain Afsarah Eden, and the young Q had its intended effect. As best we can tell, the Omega Continuum has been permanently sealed. Based upon Admiral Janeway’s last conversation with Q and his mate, we believe that their Continuum was also restored to its previous condition.

  The Esquiline, Quirinal, Curie, and Hawking, along with the seven hundred eighty-five members of Starfleet who entered Omega, have been officially declared missing in action. Once we departed the site of the tragedy, we moved immediately into communications range with Starfleet, using the relays dropped by the Esquiline during our transit to the Delta Quadrant. We provided Starfleet Command with a full report of our encounter with the anomaly, as well as the news of Admiral Janeway’s return and the unexpected transport of Cadet Icheb to Voyager by Q.

  We were advised that the Achilles successfully returned to the Alpha Quadrant and that all of the personnel stored in their buffers survived the journey.

  While it is hard to argue that the final outcome here was better than we had any right to expect, this entire series of events remains one of the most difficult I or any of my crew have yet endured. An appropriate ceremony honoring those we lost will have to wait until we have regrouped with Demeter and Galen.

  Although Admiral Janeway has had several private discussions with Admiral Montgomery over the last few days, no final orders have yet been issued for her reinstatement. I can’t imagine, however, that they would not ask her to assume the duties of fleet commander.

  The bigger question seems to be whether or not the fleet, now reduced to three ships, will be allowed to continue exploring the Delta Quadrant. It is my fervent hope that we will. The admiral has spoken of several new significant developments in the political structure of the Federation, most centering on the formation of an alliance known as the Typhon Pact. She seems to believe that we might do more good closer to home, given the ongoing reconstruction efforts and what appears to be a very real new threat.

  I could not disagree more strongly, and the admiral has assured me she will make my recommendation clear to Command.

  I just can’t help but think that, through no lack of effort on our part, we may have given Command all the reason they would need to recall us and abandon continued exploration of this quadrant. Although we’ve only had a chance to scratch the surface of the new landscape here, our initial work certainly suggests that the Borg and Caeliar are gone. But what of unique situations like Riley and her people? This discovery alone leads me to believe that our mission here has truly just begun.

  Personal Log: Although I remain committed to following the orders of my superiors, and concerned that they will respond to these developments with the heads of bureaucrats rather than the hearts of explorers, I hope they will surprise me. Kathryn certainly has. I don’t remember her ever hesitating to go boldly forward. I understand her unique perspective, given recent events, and I see her determination not to allow all that has been lost to blind her to the possibilities of our future. But I honestly don’t know where her heart is. We have spent every available moment together. She even grudgingly agreed to spend some time with Counselor Cambridge. I think he’s harder on her than I can be . . . but that’s probably for the best. The rest of the fleet has been briefed on her return, and they seem to be taking it in stride. Considering all that has occurred in our first five months in the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn’s resurrection is actually one of the least traumatic developments and everyone present who has served with her in the past takes great comfort in her presence.

  I’m still not sure what to make of Q’s decision to return me to Voyager, but I’m willing to accept it as a blessing and move on. To have Kathryn back in my life is the most extraordinary opportunity the fates have ever granted me. I learned how much time I wasted when I lost her. It is a mistake I do not plan to repeat.

  Harry Kim hesitated for a few moments outside Nancy Conlon’s quarters before activating the chime. The last five days had been a blur of activity. He didn’t expect this day to be less hectic, but he wanted to know if Nancy was any closer to a final decision about leaving the fleet. He’d had to twist Tom’s arm pretty hard to get him to admit that Conlon had not officially requested a transfer. He was still wondering if this was a good idea when the door slid open, and Conlon nearly ran right into him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she began, then added, “Hi, Harry.”

  “Good morning,” Kim replied, working hard for the right balance between concerned and cheerful.

  “Checking up on me again?” she asked seriously.

  “Yeah,” he admitted.

  Conlon crossed her arms before her and said, “You want to come in for a minute?”

  “Yes.”

  As
Nancy ushered him inside, he took a quick inventory of her quarters, and his heart sank as he noted their unruly state. Most of her belongings were strewn about haphazardly, a possible prelude to packing.

  She caught his gaze and said immediately, “I guess there’s something you should know.”

  “What’s that?” Harry asked, wishing he hadn’t.

  “I don’t really do tidy. My workspace is immaculate. My quarters, not so much.”

  Harry smiled, relieved.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  “Me? Oh, you know.” He shrugged.

  “Harry?”

  “It’s awful,” he finally admitted. The abrupt honesty felt strange but in all the activity since the ship had been restored, he hadn’t really had a chance to share with anyone the confused tangle of emotions he was now experiencing. “I mean, we did good, right? The universe, or the multiverse, or whatever is still here. Admiral Janeway came back from the dead. All it cost us was . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Four ships and almost eight hundred people,” Nancy finished for him.

  “Yeah. Tom and I have been talking about a memorial for them. I’m sure they’re doing something back home for the families, but they were all our family too.”

  Nancy nodded somberly. “I don’t think an assembly like we did on Persephone would feel right.”

  “Too much empty space,” Harry agreed. “Tom’s thinking about a reception.”

  “Equally depressing.”

  “Yeah.”

  After a long pause, Nancy said, “We’re still in range of the comm network, and will be when we return to New Talax. We could set up a real-time link with our people back in the Alpha Quadrant; maybe run a feed to the main cargo bay. It would be close quarters, but we need to reconnect with them, at least for this. We lost too many, but it might help to remember how many were saved.”

  Harry nodded, liking the idea. “I’ll talk to Tom. Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Anytime?” Harry asked.

  “Oh,” Nancy said, realizing what he was referring to. “Yeah, about that transfer.”