Once they had departed, Janeway considered reviewing the many communiques and reports in her queue. She was falling well behind on her daily workload, as so much of her attention was consumed by the work of various departments to find the Galen.
She opted, instead, to see whether or not Chakotay was still awake. “Good evening, my love,” he greeted her when his face appeared on her personal screen.
“How goes the battle?” she asked.
“It feels like we’re getting closer by the minute to our next encounter with the Edrehmaia and the recovery of our people.”
“I hope so,” she agreed.
“The coordination between the various departments of the fleet is inspiring. Tom, Atlee, and Roach have been devising multiple retrieval scenarios and running drills. Aubrey, Url, and Denisov have selected incursion teams in the event it becomes necessary to board the Galen, and Hoch and Falto are taking the lead on both offensive and defensive flight patterns.”
“You did design our assignments on DK-1116 for just that purpose: to allow the officers of our fleet to get to know one another better and start to think of themselves as one large crew. Whatever the outcome, that success is worth celebrating.”
“You may be right,” Chakotay said, “though it’s hard to say that the price was worth it.”
In the last several days, once she and the rest of the fleet had committed themselves to recovering Galen, Chakotay’s initial anger had been transformed into laser-like focus on their task. She was relieved to see that he was no longer tormenting himself for having suggested this mission in the first place, but he could not hide the deep regret that would always color his memories of this part of their journey.
She longed to take him in her arms and remind him that she would always be his safe place, that his burdens were never his alone, they were always shared. But he was right. It was possible that within hours the fleet would be ready to set course to rescue their sister ship and he didn’t need any distractions, however pleasant, right now.
She was suddenly struck by a random disquieting certainty. She and Chakotay had been through so much together, from their first days in the Delta Quadrant, the constant struggles of the seven years it took to return home, the years they had denied themselves the love and comfort of their absolute commitment to each other, and now, standing beside each other through the worst this mission could throw at them. If anything had been constant throughout, it was change and how often it came upon them unexpectedly.
As she stared into his eyes, she feared that more change was just beyond the horizon. She wondered if, when it came, she would regret wasting even one moment they might spend together.
“I’m about to turn in for a few hours,” she said. “Join me?”
He hesitated, but only briefly.
“I’m on my way.”
15
GALEN
Nancy Conlon lay on a biobed, terrified. Now that the moment had come, all of the misgivings she should have already considered were at the forefront of her mind. It didn’t help that there was a constant ringing in her ears and that even with her eyes open, the overhead light, which was surely set at maximum illumination, was little more than a grayish smudge in a field of black. Her body was collapsing around her, shutting down, one system at a time. That her mind could remain so clear and functional throughout this process was almost unfair. A little less clarity would have gone a long way right now toward numbing, or at least ratcheting down, the abject horror of her personal, slow-motion apocalypse.
She was freezing cold. The Doctor had already injected the first of the compounds that would slowly reduce her neurological functions and render her body comatose. She imagined the medicine moving through her veins and, as it did so, the cold spread to her extremities.
Gentle pressure squeezed her right hand. She assumed it was the Doctor. As soon as Kim had brought her to sickbay, the Doctor had kindly but firmly ordered him to return to his duties, assuring him that Conlon would be fine. He had protested until she had asked with a great deal more surety than she’d felt that he listen to the Doctor. She had not been able to see the fear and disappointment on his face, but it had not been hard to imagine. He had taken her hands in his, kissed her gently on the cheek, and promised her that he would be back as soon as the Doctor allowed it. She had told him not to worry and promised to see him soon.
She didn’t know why she hadn’t wished to discuss this choice with him. It might have been a desire to spare him both the attendant fears of anticipation and, if it should fail, any responsibility for the outcome. Once this was done, he would accept her choice as the only one possible. There was no reason to force him to endure the stress of the actual procedure. Soon enough, this would be over, one way or another.
“Nancy, squeeze my hand if you can hear me,” the Doctor said calmly.
She did so, though her fingers ached with the herculean effort.
“I want you to prepare yourself. In a few moments, you will awaken in your holographic body. It might take time for you to acclimate. Don’t be afraid. Reg and I are here.”
She was conscious of a new sense of heaviness throughout her entire body, almost as if an incredibly warm blanket had been placed over her. She was tired. She had fought so hard and so long. It was difficult to remember what her life had been like before it was in danger of ending.
As she drifted away, she tried to remember the song Harry had played for her; the lovely, sad progression had taken her back to the moment Harry had shown her the
