The Last Log of Admiral Kathryn Janeway

by jamelia

How ironic. I have my own personal time ship, a la Henry Starling's. Take that in your pipe and smoke it, Captain Braxton!

Seriously, I can write anything I want in this log, because no one else is ever going to read it. Now that B'Elanna and Seven have completed their excruciatingly detailed evaluation of my craft's systems and have determined which parts can be adapted to Voyager's technology in their current day (namely, the ablative shielding and the transphasic torpedoes), and what can't be (the cloaking system), I can write what I like. The only person who'll ever fly this ship again will be me, and neither of us are fated to have a long life now. But why wait around for death? Why let the Borg overrun more of the galaxy, when I might be able to end the Queen's reign much earlier, and possibly, far more completely than I ever did in my day? I may be the expert who "wrote the book about beating the Borg," but I'm more than ready to give up that sobriquet. I'd rather get rid of the Collective for good.

This life I've been living is a shadow of the one I'd wished for anyway, once upon a time. I never wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and become an admiral. Maybe if he'd still been alive when we arrived home, I would have felt differently about it, but he didn't live long enough to see me become captain or take command of my own ship. He'd have been so pleased to know of my success, but Admiral Edward Janeway had a family to come home to; Admiral Kathryn Janeway only has memories of a handful of days and nights on a planet far away from here, and of the man she spent them with . . . but he turned to someone else because she couldn't carry on, once they went back to being the command team of Voyager. I guess it was my fault, but I couldn't do otherwise. Really, neither could he.

I had trouble maintaining that cool, Admiral Janeway façade when I saw those dear faces again. Seven. Chakotay. Icheb. A Tuvok who still had a chance to be healed of his degenerative mental condition. Tal Celes. Scott Rollins. Sue Nicoletti. Jenny Delaney. Bill Chapman. So many who never made it home on my Voyager. The time of my arrival was slightly off, because I didn't see Neelix or Joe Carey. I knew the coil I coopted from the Klingons would give out along the way, and it did, just a few months too soon, or maybe I'd have managed to stop my young counterpart from following up on Starfleet Command's orders to retrieve Friendship One. At least I could have warned her of what was coming on that godforsaken planet. Maybe we could have found a way to protect Joe somehow, Federation Temporal Police be damned. His death is one that haunts me still, since it was just so senseless.

I can't say I minded that I didn't show up before Neelix found his people on that asteroid, though. The last time I spoke with our permanent Federation Ambassador to the Delta Quadrant, he was about to become a grandfather for the first time, courtesy of his stepson Brax. Knowing how happy he's been with his Dexa and their growing family, I guess it's okay that I didn't arrive as early as I planned, for all their sakes.

But I'd hoped to arrive before Chakotay and Seven found each other, and I didn't. They've already begun dating and are well on their way to forming the union that brought them much happiness, but also a lot of pain. Ah, well. Now that I'm here, maybe I can light a fire under my younger self and get her to show her true feelings to him before things have gone too far. If I don't, maybe things will go better for Seven and Chakotay in this changed time stream. If I can convince Captain Janeway to do what I should have done in her place all those years ago, Seven will never go on the away mission that ended her life. I can avoid sending my brave young ensign to fulfill the destiny his parents meant for him. I was able to save him when they sent him to the Borg, but it resulted in his death this time, when I sent him to them. And Chakotay, well, guilt is one of the worst emotions to deal with - don't I just know that. It can overshadow all the good in a relationship because of the way it ends. I don't want to see him disintegrating as completely as Tuvok's mind did.

I'd do anything to prevent that from happening again.

=/\=

When I saw Cadet Icheb today, my heart went out to him. Such an earnest young man! So brave, so intelligent. So perceptive. I saw it in his eyes, when I spoke about his improved serum in front of my younger self, who was just as surprised as I'd been to learn of its existence. In my case, I didn't find out for years after this critical point in Voyager's history. At least my counterpart has learned of it soon enough to use it to her advantage.

Icheb figured out that he didn't survive Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant. I should have been more careful in the way I answered his question about the rank he'd attained as of the time I left my time-stream. I should have laughed it off. "That's for me to know and you to find out, Cadet!" That would have been the way to respond. I was too shocked by how upfront he was, though; and I saw the exact moment it clicked, when he realized what I hadn't said. That was just before he changed his question to, "What was my rank as of the day I died?"

I compounded my error by admitting the Temporal Police would get after me if I answered him. I shouldn't have flared up like that. It only confirmed his supposition that he was dead, if not when it happened. If I'd told him the truth, that he'd been an ensign, he'd have known how short that other Icheb's life had been - the shortest, as far as I know, of any of my crew who lost their lives on my Voyager. Of course, only minutes later, he acted in exactly the same way his counterpart had on my Voyager. He offered himself as the sacrificial lamb who would deliver the serum he'd developed to the Borg, to bring Chaos to their Order. That was also a history I couldn't bear to see repeated.

I have another sacrificial lamb in mind. After all, I don't belong here. My own time is gone now, erased when I arrived back on Voyager. If I do manage to convince my younger self to act the way I wished I had, to get this crew home years earlier, saving the lives that my hesitation to use the means at hand caused to be lost, what else am I to do with myself? Go off in my personal timeship and hide out somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant? I don't belong in the 24th century, not now. I should have ended my days during the 25th century, but one way or another, I won't still be around when that century begins. By coming here, I assured myself of my demise in this one, no matter what happens with the Borg.

By confronting the Queen myself, I hope Icheb will have the chance to live the life he should have led, instead of ending it on a Borg cube a few years from now, sacrificing himself to prove that yes, his serum did work. All the Borg vessels that were attacking us succumbed to chaos, not just the one that grabbed his shuttle and assimilated one of the best and brightest of Starfleet, although most in the Federation would never know his name. The Queen managed to cut off the contagion before it spread all the way to the Unicomplex, or I never would have become the expert in beating the Borg that I became. Knowing of the serum's existence, thanks to Icheb's sacrifice in my time line, was key to my coming to the here and now.

Icheb wasn't the only casualty that day. There was another, even though she lived on and eventually married and had children. Her family was at the party at my apartment a few weeks ago - or is it years from now? Temporal paradoxes. They always gave me a headache, and here I am, creating havoc by coming here and creating one myself.

I never spoke to Naomi about Icheb after the memorial service. I did my best to comfort her then, just as her mother did, but what could either of us say? She was so heartbroken by losing him, even though he'd spoken with her before he volunteered to help her understand why he was doing it. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or of the one, etc." - that old Starfleet bromide, which Kirk's Mr. Spock made so famous a century ago. For those who are left behind, the fact that it's so true doesn't make it hurt any the less.

Several years ago, when I attended Naomi's wedding, she seemed happy; but . . . well, I don't think she looked as radiant as she would have if I could have performed her wedding service to Icheb on Voyager.

I spoke with Samantha at the reception. She was pleased her little girl had finally found someone to love, but I detected the slightest of hesitations when she said that to me. My mind slipped back to the day after those Borg cubes in pursuit of us exploded, when a very brave but tearful Cadet Naomi Wildman stood rigidly at attention next to her mother during Icheb's memorial service. No photon torpedo with his body lying in state within was in place before us. When the cube that captured him blew up, the mortal remains of Ensign Icheb Hansen were scattered throughout that region of space. All we could do to honor him was share our memories of the pleasant, gentle, oh-so-serious former Borg who had been a commissioned officer of Starfleet for far too short a time. That's the purpose of a memorial service as opposed to a funeral, of course, but it was hard, knowing that such a wonderful young man was no more.

Samantha admitted later, in my ready room, how she'd been so worried about her daughter's involvement with Icheb. "He was the only one here even slightly suitable in age," she confided to me. "I was so worried she was making a mistake, committing herself to him when she really didn't know anyone else. But he was so careful with her, such a gentleman. They didn't approach me about becoming engaged until it was clear, even to me, that my little girl was a grown woman who knew her own mind. He told me there was no need to rush. They could wait to be married until after Naomi had graduated from the Academy, when she was an officer, too. And now I wish I had let them marry, to know a little happiness before . . . before . . . oh, Captain! Maybe it had to happen this way, but I'm so sorry it did!"

I saw the Naomi of today, still a little girl, although she's growing fast. She's a heartbeat away from adolescence. I don't think this Cadet Icheb has thought of her in a romantic way as of yet. He's too earnest and focused on his career. Perhaps my coming will derail their relationship if they return to the Alpha Quadrant now, as I so fervently hope. Maybe they'll still find each other, even with all the possible partners available to them in the Alpha Quadrant. They're good friends now, I know that. Who knows what that might turn into if he lives? If he's able to attend the Academy in person, which he so richly deserves?

And then there's the rest of Icheb's family. Seven was already gone by the time of his death. I had to play that card to convince my younger self to reconsider using the transwarp hub to get home. I told her of the way Seven died in Chakotay's arms from wounds suffered during an away mission. It was a miracle she'd managed to get back to Voyager to even do that. The Borg implants remaining in her body held her together just long enough so she could be with them at the end. Icheb was devastated; Chakotay completely fell apart.

It was later, when Icheb asked me what he should do about Chakotay, that I learned why Chakotay was continuing to mourn his wife to such an extent that he was barely able to function as my first officer, let alone as Icheb's stepfather. Just before she left on the mission, they'd had another fight. Chakotay was pressing her to try to have a baby of her own again, even though she'd failed to hold onto three previous pregnancies for more than a few weeks. Her nanoprobes killed the embryos before they had the slightest chance of survival. Chakotay thought one of the women on board Voyager would help her if they went the in-vitro fertilization route. Seven thought it would be selfish to ask one of the crew to carry a baby for her. "'I have Icheb, and you could, too, if you would finally adopt him - as you promised you would when you asked me to marry you.' I overheard them," Icheb told me. "Chakotay always forgot about my Borg-enhanced hearing when they were arguing.

"Captain, he didn't want to go through with adopting me, and I was okay with that. Seven made me her son. She let me know how proud she was of my accomplishments. She may not have told me very often, but when she did, I treasured every word. I miss her so much. I know Chakotay does, too, but he feels guilty that the last words they spoke to each other were angry ones. Seven said they'd discuss it again when she got back. And then she died in his arms without being able to say anything at all to him. What should I do, Captain? Should I continue living in the same quarters we shared as a family, or is it time for me to leave? You could assign me my own quarters. I am your officer now."

Of course, I did what Icheb suggested. I saw Chakotay had never fully committed to being his father. I thought it would make it easier for my first officer to recover if he wasn't constantly reminded of his loss by seeing Seven's son every day in the quarters they'd once shared. In hindsight, that was probably a mistake. Instead of making it easier, Chakotay was able to hide away, sinking ever more deeply into depression. The man who once tore me out of my quarters when I was in a funk of my own now wallowed in his own misery. I couldn't afford to become depressed again myself, because the knight in shining armor who'd pulled me out of my self-absorption had now succumbed to the same condition, and even more completely than I did.

When Icheb sacrificed himself, Chakotay turned even more deeply into himself. Icheb had been right. Guilt was the major player here. I'd always believed Chakotay's marriage to Seven had been a very happy one, despite her inability to bear him a child. I thought Icheb's presence had enhanced their family. The loss of their children-that-might-have-been was devastating, but in the end, that shared sorrow could have drawn them closer together. When Icheb revealed the substance of that last argument, and that it was one of many about other subjects as well, however, I realized there'd been cracks in their relationship almost from the first. They'd been so very careful never to reveal them outside of the family. If Chakotay had been able to accept Icheb fully and adopt him as his own, it may have gone better for him. He would still have had a family after Seven's death. They could have comforted each other. Perhaps another volunteer would have come forward to carry the serum to the Borg cube, and Icheb would not have died in the way he did. Chakotay never comprehended any of this until after Icheb's death, when it was too late.

I'd hoped to prevent Seven and Chakotay's becoming a couple on Voyager. Once I realized I hadn't gotten here in time, I pondered how much I should reveal to them about their fates. I was still treading very lightly with my younger self when I mentioned their burgeoning relationship. It was news to her. She'd had no notion they were even attracted to each other. She was shocked. Hurt. Just as I was when I found out about them, when they came to me to set a wedding date. At least, thanks to my blundering, my counterpart knew sooner than I did. It was interesting to see her pull herself back together and claim they had a perfect right to be together if they wished. My younger self was holding to Starfleet protocols. Chakotay was free to develop a relationship with her. Seven was a civilian, after all.

Balderdash. That's a good old-fashioned word. I think I heard Boothby use it once. Seven may be a civilian, but as a member of the senior staff she's still under his direct command. He shouldn't be dallying with her, any more than I could have dallied with Chakotay.

The way I wished I'd dallied with him. I guess my jealousy is showing. You're being naughty, Kathryn Janeway. Both of us are, denying what we've always felt about him. When I visited Chakotay's grave, I whispered, "I know it wasn't easy living all these years without her, Chakotay. But when I'm through, things might be better for all of us."

I meant those words, but maybe not in the way they seem to mean on the surface. Perhaps my mission will turn out to be in vain in one respect. Chakotay and Seven may end up married in this timeline, too. If they're back in the Alpha Quadrant, one of the issues which caused them much friction could be overcome more easily than it could in the Delta Quadrant. They could have a child of their own through a surrogate who wasn't a member of Voyager's crew, whose state of health was so key for everyone to reach home. They might be happier then. Chakotay is so aware of his heritage, and he isn't a young man at this stage of his life. When he was a youth, he didn't hold with many of his traditions; but as is usual with the converted, he embraced them whole-heartedly in adulthood, once he grasped their value. If they'd managed to have at least one child of their own, he may have been able to embrace Icheb as his son, too.

Or maybe they'll never get married at all now. Maybe there will be a chance for Chakotay and me then - or, at least, with my counterpart. I haven't discussed this with the younger Kathryn yet. I'm not sure I will. Now that we're going back to the hub, and the plan of attack has been accepted as doable, I may not need to. Everything will happen as it should, I suppose.

What should I tell Icheb, though? Should I let him know of his counterpart's end? I slipped up when we visited Cargo Bay Two. He was very careful not to ask any more questions about the future as I knew it, but I did tell him Naomi named her first son after him. It just slipped out. Or maybe it didn't. I wanted him to know he was remembered with fondness, since he already accepted that he was dead in my time. Did that revelation make him realize Naomi had become more than just a friend? It probably did. That boy is smart. Too much so, for his own good.

He delivered three holosprays with his serum to my younger self. One for me. One for him, if my mission should fail. And we both know who would use the third, if still another attack on the Unicomplex should be needed. Captain Kathryn Janeway. Who else? She'd never be able to resist confronting the Borg Queen if Voyager was in such dire straits, any more than I could.

I hope it doesn't come to that. I must succeed. That's as it should be. I'm the odd woman out. I've lived my life. It may have been an empty one in many ways, since I always lacked that one person I could turn to, thanks to my losses of Justin and Mark - and Chakotay, the Maquis rebel I was sent to arrest, who ended up capturing my heart with his charm, his professionalism, and, so help me, that smile.

No, I won't play that card with my young counterpart, Captain Kathryn Janeway. If they survive, the three of them will have to play it all out in the Alpha Quadrant. All my wishes for a happy, long life, filled with love, go to all three of them. They'll work it out somehow.

But as for Icheb, I think I will satisfy his curiosity. I'm going to pull out an old-fashioned pen and piece of paper, the way my mother always insisted personal letters should be written, and let him know a little about that other Icheb's history. It was too short a life, sad, but noble. This version of Icheb should know about him, because he's the same young man, with the same wonderful qualities. Whether or not he and Naomi ever become more than good friends, he will know he was loved, not only by her, but by the woman who agreed to adopt him so that he would have a connection with someone in the Alpha Quadrant once he arrived there, the only Brunali in all of the Federation.

Initially, Seven consented to adopt him out of a sense of gratitude. He'd risked his own life to force her to accept his cortical node, which saved her from certain death. Their family connection may have started out of a sense of duty on her part, since her own emotional makeup had yet to fully develop. Over time she learned to love him dearly, so much so that I'm not sure her attachment to her husband was as strong and pure as her love for her son. This Icheb has not yet been blessed with the knowledge he will become her son. On my Voyager, the decree wasn't received until several months from the "now" on this ship.

It would be better if he didn't read this while Voyager is struggling to pass through the transwarp hub. Once they've arrived in the Alpha Quadrant, though . . . that would be different. Maybe knowing the details about my Icheb's life, and why I told this one he'd become a very fine officer, will help this Icheb in his transition to a life that isn't bound on all sides by the hull of a starship. A life, hopefully, that will take place, for the next few years, on the campus of Starfleet Academy, where he can deliver the speech he will earn the right to give as valedictorian of his class. My Icheb couldn't, despite his accomplishments, because he was in the Delta Quadrant when his class's commencement took place.

And if they don't make it all the way through to the Alpha Quadrant, well, no harm done.

So, I will handwrite my letter to him, with the envelope marked "For Icheb, to be opened after Voyager reaches Earth orbit" on the front. I'll sign it, "Kathryn Janeway, (version 1)." I don't know if that serious young man will smile when he sees that. I know I am, just thinking about it.

I assume my counterpart will be allowed to give this letter to Icheb. Federation Temporal Police, you haven't waited all this time, let me come so many years to try to change history, only to swoop in now and insist on changing it back, have you? I can't believe you will. You let my crew remember what happened to us when we went back to the 20th century. You allowed the Doctor to keep his mobile emitter so he could be "footloose and fancy free." This little excursion of mine into the past must have been permitted because that's the way it had to happen for your 29th century to exist the way it does. It all must be part of The Plan. Of History.

There's no other explanation, is there?

=/\=

Paramount/CBS/whoever-they're-affiliated-with-at-this-moment owns Star Trek and all its permutations over the years since Gene Roddenberry first pitched it to the powers that be at NBC. I make no claims of ownership to the franchise, characters, or the episode "Endgame." I just like to dwell in that world every now and then.

This story is based upon the events of "Endgame," as interpreted by me in my story about Icheb's journey, "Destiny," which is the sequel to an earlier piece, "Icheb." Those stories were told from Icheb's and Mezoti's points of view, so this chapter, which is told from Admiral Kathryn Janeway (version 1)'s POV, didn't really fit. "The Last Log of Admiral Kathryn Janeway" serves as a companion piece to them.

Jamelia116 -July 2018