Be Careful What You Wish For

by Barbara Watson

  They found it in better shape than the corridor, the only major damage being the chairs littered around the space (wherever they happened to fall when artificial gravity was restored), and some scorching where the computer console had exploded and burned. They were able to reach the door to the bridge fairly easily. Tom engaged the suction handle and pushed. His eyes widened at what he saw when it opened.

  Devastation didn't begin to describe it. They had to crawl under a dangling piece of the ceiling to get inside, only to find more debris blocking their way. Once they made it to an intact area near the main view screen, Tom took a minute to absorb the scene in front of him. 'How did any of us survive this?' he couldn't help but wonder.

  Of the eight crewmen on the bridge at the time of the accident, all were killed or critically injured. Except him. He could see now the 'cave' created between the falling ceiling support and the conn. He must have fallen under his console moments before the collapse. Just as his brain seemed to start to grapple with the realization of how lucky he had been--and instantly wondering why he had been spared when the others hadn't--another part of his mind pushed the thoughts away. 'Focus,' he said to himself, and shook it off.

  Seven, on the other hand, felt numbed by it all. Not dispassionate or logical as she might have normally convinced herself to be in a crisis, but deadened, sedated. She also couldn't remember the last time she felt so tired, physically. She found a clear spot on the deck and sat down, waiting for Tom to continue their survey. For a moment, she thought Paris might be too affected by the shock of what they were seeing to continue. He seemed to push his emotions aside, however, and was soon working his way across the room. She supposed she should get up and follow him.

  It didn't take Tom long to complete his analysis: the bridge was a total loss. None of their patchwork fixes would be enough here. Weeks in spacedock might make a difference; he wasn't even sure of that. Looking around him, Tom realized Kathryn's plans for a future aboard this ship might be over. He wondered how she would handle it if Voyager were scrapped instead of refit. For the second time in five minutes, he pushed his feelings aside and went on.

  There was no point trying to get into the captain's ready room from the bridge. The entire starboard area from the engineering station past tactical was a mass of twisted metal. Tom allowed himself two seconds to think that at least Tabor and Tuvok probably died instantly. He was working his way back toward the briefing room when he had to stop to scale a pile of debris along the aft railing. He supported his weight--one hand on the ops console, the other on a piece of fallen ceiling support--and vaulted over the mess. When he cleared the debris, he felt a sticky/chalky residue on his palms, which he noticed were now rust colored. Dried blood. Probably Chakotay's, he realized. Another instantaneous visceral reaction, and another door quickly slammed shut inside his head. He wiped his hands on the legs of his uniform and went on.

  Seven was only a few steps behind him. They re-entered the corridor and fought their way starboard.

  The ready room doors were harder to open, but he and Seven pushed together and were able to wedge apart a space large enough to squeeze though. Tom had a fleeting memory of the first time had had entered this room--also through this seldom-used door--and how nervous he had been that day. He was getting a chance to redeem himself, not only in his new captain's eyes, but in his own. He knew he had to look calm and cool in front of the young ensign tagging along with him, though, so he had worn the 'Paris mask'--part grin, part sneer, part intense stare--to hide his fear. He wasn't as nervous as Harry, of course. 'Mr. Kim, at ease before you strain something.' Tom smiled at how far his friend had come since those first days. No one could imagine that kid, that Harry Kim, commanding a starship one day. Now, though, Harry was a seasoned pro, confident, almost desperate for the next step in his career. Harry was ready. Harry was.... These emotions were harder to bury, but Tom searched for the biggest boulder he could find to roll in front of this particular mental door, and forced himself to move on.

  The paradoxes he found as he looked around him were striking. Pieces of the furniture, sturdy chairs and tables, were smashed and twisted--barely recognizable. Yet most of the captain's china tea set was unbroken, resting gently in various spots around the room. Her desk was mostly intact, as were many of her artifacts. He spoke to Seven for the first time in several minutes. "Add this room to your duty list. When B'Elanna can spare someone, have her send up a crewman to salvage the captain's personal effects." He knew how much these things meant to Captain Janeway, yet he didn't want her to have to see her Bridge and office in this condition. Besides, who knew how long it might take before she would be physically capable of making her own way up here?

  Tom turned and headed out the door. Seven took a moment to look around. She had spent a lot of time in this room with the captain. They'd had some of their best arguments and philosophical conversations here. In many ways, it was the classroom for her most important lessons on the road to reclaiming her humanity. Yet while she could sense her own sadness at what she was seeing, somehow she couldn't really feel it. It was an odd sensation.

  "Seven, you coming?" Tom was calling her. She took a deep breath and turned to follow him.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  B'Elanna had just finished screaming at her third crewman of the morning, and she was only three hours into her shift. Why her staff, so talented just a few days ago, had suddenly become so inept, she couldn't fathom. It had been years since she had felt so furious at their stupidity. Why couldn't they get the most basic things right?

  She also felt herself angry at her own limitations. Normally, on those rare occasions when her staff let her down, she would go ahead and fix the problem herself. But she was in no condition to go crawling around the bowels of this broken ship. What had she been thinking--allowing herself to get pregnant while living in such dangerous circumstances? Here she was: failing her captain, failing her child, failing herself. She couldn't make anything right for anyone, it seemed, and it was pissing her off.

  "Vorik!"

  Conventional wisdom says Vulcans are incapable of showing fear, yet the ensign was practically trembling as he turned to her. "Yes, Lieutenant?" He was hesitant to get within striking distance.

  "Why am I still showing power fluctuations in the structural integrity field? Haven't you been working on those systems all morning?!"

  She had broken his jaw once before--granted under very different circumstances--still he couldn't help but remember that incident as he answered. None of the engineering staff had seen their chief like this in years, but the memories of her turbulent first months--and the tongue-lashings they occasionally got during those times--were burned in their memories. He screwed up his courage and answered her. "We're in the process of switching from the back-up power cells to the new power grid. Fluctuations are to be expected as the new relays come on line."

  She couldn't believe he was making such feeble excuses. "If you calibrated the relays properly, there wouldn't be any fluctuations. That field is the only thing keeping whole sections of this ship together. Get back in there and level off that power transfer before we lose containment."

  Vorik knew he was right, but he only nodded before walking away. Working so closely with this temperamental half-Klingon engineer, the young Vulcan had learned many lessons, the first of which he followed now: 'It's better to know you're right and be quiet than to say you're right and get decked.' He'd see what he could do about leveling out the fluctuations.

  Without knowing it, her next victim was coming up behind her. "I finished the survey of the central turboshaft. Should I give you my report?" Neelix, not being a regular member of the engineering crew, had almost no experience working with B'Elanna when she was like this. He was unprepared for the torrent of emotion he was about to face.

  "Are you an idiot?! Can't you see I'm in the middle of fifteen things?!"

  Her friend's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I just thought…"

  Perha
ps because she was getting tired, perhaps because she had turned to look into the face of this man who had always been so kind and caring to her, but B'Elanna regretted her outburst as soon as she saw the fear in his eyes. "Neelix, I'm sorry. I've just had a rough morning." He had offered once, she remembered, to act as a pressure valve for her--volunteering to let her scream at him if she ever needed to vent her frustrations. Ironically, he had helped her learn to unload her anger. Instead of withstanding a torrent of insults, however, he had become a sort of therapist/sounding board for his volatile friend. Neelix had helped her through some of her most difficult times. Somehow, just being near him made her calm down.

  "It's alright, B'Elanna. I can take it. Get it out of your system." Somehow his bravery made her smile. He decided to leverage the moment. "How about if we go sit down someplace and you can insult my parentage for a while."

  She knew Neelix was trying without saying it to relieve the tension and get her off her feet. She had promised Tom and the doctor that she would take it easy, and here she had been pacing the deck frantically all morning. Her blood pressure had to be through the roof as well. She decided to let her friend talk her into a short break.

  "Fine," she acquiesced. "Five minutes. Then we both have to get back to work."

  They walked into the corridor and down to her new 'quarters.' Voyager's replicators were still offline, but Tom had smuggled several self-refrigerated thermoses of orange juice from the Resnick's mess hall before they left the ship. B'Elanna missed her coffee, but she knew this was healthier for the baby. She offered Neelix a cup, which he declined. They sat facing each other on the room's two bunks.

  "Looks like your temper's gotten a workout today," her friend started the conversation.

  She didn't know what to say in response. "I don't seem to be able to stop myself," she answered honestly. "I know they're doing the best they can--they're all exhausted. We've got more work than we can handle. I just get so mad when I think..." Her voice trailed off.

  "When you think...?" he pushed her to continue.

  Her face changed from rage to sadness. "Chakotay was right. We should have settled on that planet, Neelix. We never should have made this crazy attempt to get home. What in the hell were we thinking?!" She was upsetting herself again, but Neelix wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Maybe she needed to get this out. "When I think about him lying up there, barely alive. About what happened to Harry, and Tuvok, and...I just get so furious!"

  "At Captain Janeway?" Neelix pressed.

  "No! No. Of course not. She gave us all a choice. We could have stayed behind. It was our decision." Torres was on her feet again, pacing the room.

  Neelix nudged her on, "Then who are you angry at, B'Elanna?"

  She picked up a datapad as she answered him. "At this goddammed ship!" she screamed as she hurled the PADD across the room and watched it smash into the bulkhead. "This stupid ship we have killed ourselves maintaining for seven years. We were almost there, Neelix. One more hour and we would have been home. Alive. All of us." Her arms were in front of her face but there were no tears to hide. B'Elanna had long-since cried herself out. Neelix went to her anyway, and put his hand on her shoulder.

  "And now you have to pick up the pieces again," he said softly.

  She nodded when no words would come. "I hate it," she seethed. "I'll never forgive Voyager for quitting on us." They stood together quietly for a moment as B'Elanna worked though her fury at this ship she had once loved. She regained her composure quickly--she was too busy to let herself dwell on her anger any longer. She reminded herself of Neelix's report.

  "So you checked out the main turboshaft? What did you find?"

  He was happy for the change of subject because it gave him an opportunity to give her the first good news of her morning. "The internal sensors were right--it's structurally sound. My crew is clearing some debris and checking the power couplings, but we should have vertical operation between decks two and fourteen by late this afternoon.

  "That's wonderful, Neelix. Good job." She knew this meant she could visit Chakotay soon, and she was grateful. "You know, I think our five minutes are up."

  He put his hand back on her shoulder as they started out the door. "I think I make a fairly good engineer if I do say so myself," he kidded.

  She smiled for the first time in days, and brought her hand up to cover his. "Yes you do," she agreed.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  She was sitting on a rocky beach looking out over a magnificent sunset. Behind her was a lush tropical forest. It was the place she felt most content, though she couldn't remember where it was or when she had last been there. She drew her knees up to her chest, and took it all in.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught a quick movement. A rustling from out of the trees and onto a felled log just behind her. She turned slowly--so as not to scare the creature off. She saw it--a small lizard, perhaps a chameleon, though she wasn't sure, perched silently on the branch. It seemed to be calling to her, without words. "What are you trying to tell me, my little friend?" she asked softly.

  She was surprised when she heard its thoughts. "What is it you need to know?" it seemed to say. "Your question is not for me, but for yourself." She supposed that if a reptile could speak its thoughts, it shouldn't surprise her it would talk in riddles.

  Before she could ask it another question, it scurried off the log and back into the trees. She knew before she stood that she would follow it. The creature seemed to be leading her somewhere, deep into the forest. Each time she would lose her footing or stray from the path, it would wait for her to catch up. She knew it held some secret, some answer she was seeking. She called to it, "Are you my spirit guide?"

  She heard its voice deep inside her, "Am I your spirit guide?" It mocked her, yet she wasn't angry. She knew the answer to the question before she'd asked it.

  "Where are you taking me?" she wondered.

  "Where do you need to go?" it replied. Learning the lesson that her questions would be answered in time, she continued to follow.

  Soon they came to a clearing in the forest, a beautiful, peaceful spot where the nearby stream pooled before continuing on its way. She watched the lizard pause at the edge of the pool, perhaps to drink, she thought. She was startled, then, when a snake surfaced from the water, and made its way toward them. For a moment she feared it would devour the smaller creature, yet almost as quickly she knew they were safe. The snake was huge, green and yellow, however she wasn't frightened anymore. She watched as it welcomed the lizard onto its back like a trusted friend. "You know each other," she said to them.

  "As well as we know you." She heard two voices now, one distinctly female. "What is it you're trying to tell me?" she asked.

  "You have been on a quest." The voices spoke in tandem. "You have searched for many years, desperate to find what you seek. Yet it eludes you, still."

  She couldn't deny it. "Yes," she answered.

  "What it is you search for?" they asked her. It was the easiest question to answer.

  "Home," she replied.

  "Is that truly what you seek?" She was startled by their response. "Or has your desire for home blinded you to your true quest? Perhaps what you search for is both easier and harder to find."

  She didn't understand. The pursuit of a way home had been her one true mission for the last seven years. "Then what is it? What is it I'm searching for?" she asked.

  "What is it you're searching for?" they mimicked back to her.

  "I don't know the answer!" she cried out to them.

  "Of course you do," the voices laughed.

  The snake suddenly started to slither away, carrying her tiny animal guide with it deep into the underbrush. "Wait!" she cried out to them.

  "Wait!" Kathryn Janeway was sitting straight up in the biobed, her heart racing wildly. She was suddenly wide awake and gradually becoming aware of her surroundings.

  "Lie down," the doctor was scolding her firmly but gently as he ran the tricorder o
ver her. "You're in sickbay. You're going to be fine."

  She took a moment before obeying his instructions. "Where are we? What's happened?" The rush of adrenaline had passed and she was now almost too weak to move.

  "We're crossing through Klingon space on the way to Starbase 32. You've been injured, and I need you to relax so I can finish checking you over."

  Her head was swimming now, as much from the information as from her injuries. "Klingon space…that's in the Beta Quadrant. What are we doing...?"

  Her physician was hesitant to tell her too much too quickly, but he knew better than to evade her entirely. "Let's just say we came up a little short in our attempt to get home."

  "Home." She searched to understand what he was saying. They had been in the Delta Quadrant. They were running out of food and energy. She had sent Tom and Harry off looking for supplies. Now the doctor was telling her they were in the Beta Quadrant after some unsuccessful attempt to reach home. How long had she been unconscious? She didn't have time to ask the question before she heard the doors swish open.