Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide

by Kirsten Beyer

  He flinched, backing up a few paces as it continued to stalk him.

  “Stay the hell away from me,” he spat harshly. “I don’t know what you are or why you’re doing this, but . . .”

  “Chakotay, it’s me.”

  “Shut up!” he shouted, his anger only fueled by the “thing’s” attempt to placate him. “Kathryn Janeway is dead. Whatever you are, you aren’t . . .” but further words were consumed by the grief still raw at the center of his being, now forcing its way through his righteous fury.

  “Please,” she begged, as her eyes began to glisten.

  Feeling his gorge rise and unable to continue to look at the thing who was so like and yet could not be his beloved Kathryn, he turned to leave the room. Eden and the Doctor might still be outside, and . . .

  “I’ll be waiting right here in case you need me,” the Doctor had said.

  A tinny buzz was now added to the cacophony in Chakotay’s head as a wave of dizziness threatened to take his feet out from under him.

  They knew. Both of them knew whom he was about to face when he entered this room, and neither of them had been the least bit disturbed by her presence.

  Which meant what?

  If he could only breathe, he might be able to sort out their impossible acceptance of the thing pretending to be Kathryn. Obviously she had deceived them.

  Turning back he saw her, no longer attempting to approach him. She simply stood alone in the center of the room, her hands at her sides and her face unutterably sad. There had been precious few moments between them when he had seen her so emotionally vulnerable. Those he had were cherished memories he had buried deep within his heart. He had learned long ago that he must not dwell on those memories, the ones he prized the most. Perhaps someday, when his grief was bearable, when the permanent hole her absence had left in his heart . . .

  But seeing her like this, so small, so tired, and so very alone . . . Every instinct in his body demanded that he go to her and take her in his arms.

  Only the awful truth that this must be some sort of illusion kept him rooted to the floor.

  She shook her head slowly back and forth, sniffled softly, and gently wiped a tear from her cheek as she struggled to pull herself upright and square her shoulders.

  Every gesture was hers. But more than that, every emotion communicated so clearly through them was also hers. Countless alien artifices might result in a fair imitation of her body, but surely not her soul.

  The anger drained from Chakotay, leaving him incredibly cold. This feeling, too, was frighteningly familiar. He had walked for so long between pain and ice, in the months immediately following her death. He had struggled valiantly to move beyond them. It was exhausting to find himself here again, and more than anything, he wished for a dark place in which to breathe and be still.

  She seemed to follow his thoughts, but the hope he had first seen on her face had evaporated. Finally she said simply, “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

  For pretending to be the woman I loved most in the universe? For destroying the fragile peace I’ve worked so hard to find? For insulting the memory of one of the finest officers ever to wear the uniform?

  “For what?” he forced through his lips.

  “For dying,” she replied. “I told you once what grief did to me when I lost my father and Justin. I didn’t think you believed me then. How could you? You’d never experienced anything like it. But I guess I was right.”

  “Right?” he asked even as the memory of the night she had first shared her grief with him sliced through his heart, rending it anew.

  “For two people responsible for so many lives, love is too much to risk.”

  It was a stunning pronouncement, but again, so like her. He found it impossible to understand the feeling washing through him, that something incredibly precious might have just slipped through his fingers.

  Kathryn? he thought, but didn’t dare speak her name.

  “When Q—the son, not the father,” she explained, “told me he would return me to the place I was needed most, I assumed he meant just shortly after the Borg cube that . . . assimilated me was destroyed.”

  The difficulty with which she spoke the word “assimilated” set his heart pounding hard in his chest.

  “The Doctor was good enough to fill me in on the last fourteen months. Frankly, I’m amazed any of you are still standing, given what you had to face. My death was surely the least of it.”

  “Your death . . .” he began, but couldn’t complete the thought. A hope was suddenly raging in his mind between the impossibility that somehow Kathryn had returned and the irrefutable evidence of every word she spoke.

  “And given what we’re facing now, coming back from the dead is almost equally insignificant,” she added bitterly.

  “Kathryn?” he finally said aloud, but just as soon wished he hadn’t. Because to believe it was possible . . .

  “I don’t know how to convince you. The Doctor has done all the tests. Maybe you’ll believe him.” She shrugged as a deep sigh escaped her lips.

  Chakotay’s heart began to burn with a force he had forgotten, a tense energy binding him to her that had never wavered in intensity, no matter how far they drifted apart. Without consciously wanting to, Chakotay began to move cautiously toward her. Each step gave rise to the fear that if he got too close, she would disappear.

  “Q’s son?” he asked.

  She held her ground as she continued. “Just before I boarded that damned cube, his mother . . . Remember her?”

  Chakotay nodded, still moving forward.

  “She appeared in my quarters, warning me that if I did what I had come to do, I would surely die. Of course I didn’t believe her. She was a Q, and as best I could tell had never liked me much anyway.” A momentary spasm of pain flashed over her face. “After it was all over, I was with her again. She told me I was dead, but that death didn’t mean anything where I was going. And then I was in the Continuum. Q, the son, was waiting for me. Something terrible is happening to him, and it very well could be my fault. I had to help if I could.”

  “Q brought you back from the dead?” Chakotay asked, still not daring to believe it.

  “He showed me how to do it myself. Turns out, there is a great deal more between heaven and earth than any of us have ever dreamed. It was touch and go for a bit, but then Kes showed up and somehow . . .”

  “Kes?”

  She nodded as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “I guess it was foolish of me to think that it would be as easy for you to accept all of this as it was for me. Maybe you had to be there.”

  Finally, Chakotay stood directly in front of her. The warmth of her body, the fragrance he had actually forgotten, the warm tears streaking down her face, all threatened to shatter his heart.

  This time, she took a small step back. Only the huge desk behind her prevented further retreat.

  “Don’t,” she said softly.

  Every nerve ending in Chakotay’s body was suddenly quite painfully alive.

  “Kathryn.” His eyes blurred with tears.

  “I swear to you, Chakotay, if I’d known, I would never have risked hurting you the way I did. We would have gone on as we always had and then, when . . .”

  “No,” he said, raising shaking hands and grasping her firmly by both arms. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just doing what you always did, trying to protect all of us.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he said again, pulling her toward him. For a moment, she tried to hold herself back, but he refused to allow it. In the space of a breath, their bodies met in a tight embrace. She buried her head in his chest, as the rest of her shuddered. He was shaking as his hands pressed her close, then began to run over her entire back, consoling her even as they assured him of her warm and very real presence.

  Chakotay bent low to press his cheek to hers, and through mingled tears their lips found one another’s. For the next several moments, he knew nothing but the familiar swe
etness of her breath and their mutual physical hunger. When she finally pulled her face away just far enough to search his eyes, he saw that her fear had vanished.

  Together they moved to a nearby long sofa, their arms wrapped around each other in silent wonder. They sat and continued to stare at each other, in a precious stolen moment of pure happiness. Finally, Kathryn said, “You do realize that the universe is tearing itself to shreds around us?”

  I don’t care, he thought, until reality reared its ugly head and he remembered how much he actually did.

  Nodding slightly, he began, “We have—”

  “—work to do,” she finished for him.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Kathryn was alive.

  Anything was possible.

  • • •

  Seven continued to apply herself to the newest sensor readings, which indicated that the anomaly’s effects on local space were increasing, without providing any insight into how to impede or reverse its spread. Apart from the portions of the ships that had not been completely consumed, every other particle of matter or energy that intersected with the anomaly appeared to cease to exist. It was not destroyed or converted. By some unknown mechanism, it appeared the anomaly rendered every portion of space it moved through somehow absent. Seven had initially believed that whatever had fractured the anomaly had opened up a new realm into normal space-time. However, the lack of significant gravimetric distortions and radiation readings that were indicative of the interplay between two such radically different states of being were not present. She could not account for why this was so. She had begun to believe, without understanding how it was possible, that the anomaly was not releasing itself into normal space; it was, more accurately, erasing it.

  It was a relief when she heard the doors to the astrometrics lab open. Half-hoping that Cambridge had returned, she was surprised to see Chakotay and the Doctor enter, side by side. Both of them wore expressions of mingled expectancy and relief that puzzled her. She wondered if someone might have discovered a solution that had thus far eluded her.

  “Captain?” she asked immediately.

  Chakotay’s eyes met hers, and in them she saw something radiating so forcefully, she was tempted to step back. The possibility of alien possession crossed her mind, so great was the change in his demeanor since their last briefing. Frankly, she hadn’t seen Chakotay so positive in months. He looked ready to present her with a gift, and barely able to contain himself.

  The Doctor’s face held the same excited expectation. Briefly, she wondered if she might be dreaming. Since the Caeliar transformation, her body actually required sleep rather than regeneration, and in the last few days, had been pushed beyond its limits. It was possible she had nodded off at her post, though she certainly felt awake.

  “What has happened?” she asked.

  “You won’t believe it—” Chakotay began.

  “Which is why we wanted to assure you that what you are about to see has been thoroughly verified by every test at my disposal and that both of us are convinced of its absolute veracity,” the Doctor finished.

  “What am I about to see?” Seven inquired.

  “Admiral?” Chakotay called to the door, and it opened again.

  As soon as Admiral Janeway entered, Seven’s knees gave way. Both Chakotay and the Doctor took firm hold of her arms to steady her.

  “Hello, Seven,” the admiral greeted her with a warm and radiant smile.

  Seven held on to Chakotay and the Doctor as she looked between them for confirmation. Clearly sensing her confusion, Janeway stepped into the room and the door closed behind her. She waited patiently for Seven to collect herself.

  “I don’t understand,” Seven said.

  “The Q intervened at the last possible moment before my death,” Janeway advised her simply.

  “When?” Seven asked, even more confused.

  “After the cube was destroyed, but before my consciousness was permanently lost,” Janeway clarified. “I grant you, a more timely return would have been optimal, but I’m just grateful they did what they did.”

  Seven’s breath began to come in quick, short spasms. She wanted to believe what she was seeing, but nothing in her past experiences had prepared her to confront the wild range of emotions now roaring through her. Disbelief warred with impossible relief, and anger was intertwined with overwhelming happiness.

  “It’s all right, Seven,” the Doctor said in his most soothing voice.

  “I know it’s hard to believe,” Chakotay added.

  “No,” Seven said, pulling free of both of them and retreating to the far side of her console. She raised her hand to tap her combadge, but even as it chirped, the doors opened and Cambridge entered.

  Seven looked to him immediately, desperately seeking confirmation that she had not gone insane in the last sixty seconds.

  Casting a withering glance toward Chakotay, the Doctor, and Janeway, he said, “You can imagine my surprise when I asked the computer to locate you three, and found you en route to astrometrics. In your anxiousness to share the news of our fair admiral’s resurrection, did any of you consider the shock your revelation is bound to inspire, even in the strongest among you?” He then crossed to Seven and took both her hands in his, squeezing them tightly. “Listen to me,” the counselor commanded, “you have not taken leave of your senses. You are well aware of the capabilities of the species known as the Q. You have my word, and that of your friends, that the impossible has come to pass. We are not sharing some mass delusion. It will take some time to process, but you should begin at once. Sadly, nothing else about our unfortunate and rather desperate circumstances has been altered, and the sooner you accept this, the sooner we can all return our attention to preventing our imminent demises.”

  His bluntness had its typical calming effect upon Seven. As she nodded, he added, “I have to believe that the Q’s intervention on the part of Admiral Janeway is the exception rather than the rule. If any of us are to survive the mess in which we now find ourselves, we’re going to need you at your best.”

  At this, Seven actually smiled.

  “Deep breath,” Cambridge suggested.

  She complied, then looked past him to stare at Admiral Janeway, who seemed not at all insulted by Seven’s initial reaction.

  “Gentlemen,” the admiral said simply, “would you give us a moment, please?”

  “Certainly,” Chakotay replied.

  Cambridge hesitated, waiting for Seven’s response.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him.

  With a nod, he followed Chakotay and the Doctor out. Seven suspected neither of them had heard the last from him on their method of relating this extraordinary information.

  The moment they had left, Seven turned her full attention to Admiral Janeway and felt her face flushing in embarrassment. “Please forgive me,” she said. “The shock I experienced should not be taken as indication that I am not very happy to see you again, Admiral.”

  Janeway shook her head, dismissing the apology. “In a few minutes, we will join the rest of the senior staff. I’m sure all of them will have a similar reaction, and will want to hear as many details as there is time for me to provide. But before then, I wanted to speak with you.”

  “Why?” Seven asked automatically. She knew, of course, that her past relationship with Janeway had been unique, but it still felt odd to be singled out.

  A faint smile of embarrassment now rose to Janeway’s face. “To thank you,” she replied.

  Try as she might, Seven could not imagine what she might have done to deserve the admiral’s thanks.

  “For what?” she asked softly.

  “For saving me,” Janeway said simply.

  “I thought you said the Q did that,” Seven said, confused.

  “I meant from the Borg.”

  Suddenly Seven found herself reliving in vivid detail the last moments she had shared with Kathryn Janeway. Between the grief that followed so quickly after her dea
th and the Caeliar transformation soon thereafter, Seven had managed to bury the intensity of that moment, when she merged with an ancient alien technology and used it to bridge the barriers the Borg had erected between herself and what was left of the admiral after her assimilation. So painful was the memory that Seven was grateful that it had faded from her consciousness.

  Janeway stepped closer, asking, “What I experienced, is that what assimilation was like for you?”

  Seven wished she didn’t understand the question, but she did.

  “No,” she replied. “I was assimilated at such a young age. There was no resistance. I was consumed completely and entered wholly into the hive mind.”

  “How did you know I would still be there?”

  Seven considered the question seriously. “I suppose I didn’t.” Struggling to be precise, she said, “But in order for our plan to succeed, I needed you to still be there. And I wanted you to be there. I intended to bring you back myself. I knew that the Borg might assimilate your body, but they could never take all of you.” Seven’s heart began to burn as she recalled the chaos of the battle with the evolved Borg cube, and the times since then when she had wondered if she had done all she could for Janeway. “I failed you,” she finally admitted.

  “No,” Janeway said, closing the distance between them. “I was trapped there, hiding in some small part of my own mind as soon as the assimilation was complete. It took a time for me to understand what had happened, and all my strength to continue to resist while that . . .” Her voice trailed off as the intensity of her memories threatened to overwhelm her.

  “It wasn’t you,” Seven assured her.

  “I know,” Janeway said, though she clearly did not entirely believe it. “And I also know that without you, the cube would have absorbed the Earth. I know I could not have held out much longer. I would have been lost forever to that monster. But you found me,” she insisted. “You kept all that was left of me intact. When it was done, the Q took my consciousness to their continuum. But there would have been no consciousness to take if you hadn’t reached it first.”