Oracle

 

A story by

 

vanhunks

 

 

Rating: R [for language]

Disclaimer: Paramounts owns the characters. 

Summary: Unwilling to acknowledge the infirmities of old age, with the help of a counselor, Kathryn reviews some choices she made many years before.

 

Acknowledgement: Mary Stark, for superb editing and suggesting the summary; Sheila, for the constant encouragement and upliftment.

 

 

 

Summary: Unwilling to acknowledge the infirmities of old age, with the help of a counselor, Kathryn reviews some choices she made many years before.

 

ORACLE

 

 

"I tell you what, Counsellor. I'll leave your prissy office and you tell Starfleet to assign you to a client more submissive to your probing."

 

"And I'm afraid I cannot do that, Admiral. My task is to establish whether - "

 

"I know what your task is. What happened to Deanna Troi?"

 

Kathryn Janeway wanted to walk out, but movement was proving to be difficult. Her back ached; if she looked sideways in a mirror, she'd see herself bent over a walking stick moving forward like a crooked old lady. She was old. Her hair was white, her eyes had sunk into their sockets so that she could no longer see their colour; her cheeks appeared like bags that drooped at the sides of her mouth, and she had no lips. The rouge she applied vanished somewhere into her mouth. Who cared? Her fingers were knobby limbs from an old tree that no longer bore fruit, if that were possible.

 

The young Counsellor challenged her gaze. He was Bajoran and his earring reminded her of Gerron.

But Gerron was dead, so she’d heard.

 

"Deanna Troi died fifteen years ago, Admiral Janeway. You know that."

 

She shook her head. Of course she knew.

 

"Tell me again," she demanded. "Why am I here?"

 

"If you will cooperate, perhaps we can finish this session sooner. You require rest - "

 

"Why am I here?!" Her hand pushed the walking stick towards him. She wanted to jab him with it, but where he was sitting, but he was sitting a safe distance away. What was he expecting?

 

"We're here to establish your competency, Admiral. Of late you have experienced lapses in memory, and you can no longer live alone in your apartment without adequate assistance."

 

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, Counsellor Goring. I have repeatedly assured Starfleet that there is nothing wrong with me." The knotted hand pushed the stick in his direction again. "Nothing, do you understand?"

 

"Then why did you come, Admiral? Surely no one pointed a phaser at your head or carried you here."

 

His statement caught her momentarily off-guard. If the light of the sun hadn't been behind him, she could have seen his face clearly. It suited his purpose. He might well be an invisible security officer interrogating her.

 

"Are you interrogating me?"

 

"No, merely asking you a simple question."

 

"Let's say my insane love for you brought me here to your rooms, Counsellor."

 

"How old are you, Admiral Janeway?" he asked, suddenly changing direction.

 

"Ninety eight. I know you are smiling. Why?"

 

"For an old woman you are remarkably agile - "

 

"Ah! Then why am I here?"

 

She’d caught him.

 

"I mean, Admiral, that your responses to my questions establish a stereotype - "

 

"I represent a stereotype?" she cut in.

 

"Well, at your age some senior citizens can be remarkably crotchety...and stubborn..."

 

"Thereby confounding your efforts to treat us like children? I know you're smiling," she said caustically, pointing her cane at him again.

 

"Admiral, you may be the very last person I wish to treat as a child."

 

"Good. Now why don't you sit over here, and I take your seat? That way I can see your face, Counsellor Goring."

 

"What purpose would that serve?

"I like seeing my adversary's eyes."

 

"You see me as an adversary and not a counsellor?"

 

"No, I'm merely re-establishing an old habit."

 

Goring didn't reply; instead, he rose from his seat and towered above her. He wanted to take her hand to help her from her chair, but this time the stick did rap his knuckles. Then she tried to get up.

 

"I think I might need some help here," she admitted.

 

"My pleasure, Admiral Janeway."

 

"And don't think you are a knight. Ah, that's much better. Now I can see your face."

 

"Tell me about your family, Admiral. You have family?"

 

Her mouth twisted. The knotted fingers clamped round the top of her cane.

 

"You know very well I have none, Goring."

 

"I know. You had a mother and a sister. I wish to know a little more about them."

 

"My mother died not long after my – our - return to the Alpha Quadrant."

 

"According to reports she was suffering from a rare regressive disorder - "

 

He would know.

 

"Her last days were not pleasant. She did not recognise her daughters. She refused any and all medical aid. Not that it would have helped. Does that satisfy you?"

 

Goring nodded his head and quickly entered some notes on the PADD in his hand.

 

"Gretchen Janeway did warn you that the same disorder might afflict you, Admiral."

 

"I do not acknowledge that with any amount of pride, Counsellor. She's dead and that's it."

 

"And your sister? Phoebe Janeway?"

 

"Died at the Ring Art Festival 25 years ago.  She never married, never had any children."

 

"You and your sister were the last of the Janeway family, were you not?"

 

She shifted uneasily. She sensed where the conversation was leading to. Starfleet would badger her without end if she walked out of here and left the counsellor with no one to counsel. Her mouth curved bitterly. She leaned far over her cane, and her mouth just touched the knobs of her fingers.

 

"When I die, there will be no more Janeways. That's it, Counsellor. The end of the line. No history and no future, no descendants, no one to carry the proud name of Janeway... There will be none..."

 

"It need not be that way - "

 

"You want me to progenitise at the age of ninety eight?" 

 

She gave a little cackle when the Bajoran blanched at her crude response.

 

"I am sure you know what I mean, Admiral."

 

"Then don't talk of various and alternate means of continuing the line, Counsellor. You bore me. I’d like to leave now. The Academy still needs me – "

 

“Admiral, you went into forced retirement sixteen years ago.”

 

“My hair got grey too soon, my legs started buckling and I was coming on to the cadets?”

 

He ignored her coarse reply.

 

“Some regression had already set in, Admiral. You were forgetting important dates, cadets’ names and entire series of lectures...”

 

“You bastard.”

 

“I am establishing the truth here. There are excellent facilities – “

 

“I know. I am not ready to be banded with a bunch of biddies who can’t walk.”

 

“But you have difficulty with motion. You are arthritic. It can be remedied.”

 

“To what end, Counsellor?”

 

“You may live to one hundred and thirty seven...”

 

She almost pitched the cane at him. When she looked at her hands, she saw how they trembled. Her voice quivered when she spoke.

 

“I’ll die first.”

 

“What are you afraid of, Admiral?”

 

Of being alone, you moronic insignificant  counselor. Can’t you see? I have no history and no future and no descendants.

 

“I fear nothing.”

 

She gave another little cackle when Goring sighed, moved uncomfortably in his chair and put the PADD down. Then he sat forward, laced his fingers and rolled his thumbs. The bastard smiled.

 

“No holds barred now, Admiral. Off the record. Are you okay with that?”

 

“I’ve never been known to turn down a challenge, Counsellor.”

 

“Fine. We’ll start with Voyager’s return to the Alpha Quadrant. The Maquis were incarcerated and you fought for their release – “

 

“Correction, Counsellor. Only one Maquis went to jail.”

 

“Commander Chakotay.”

 

Kathryn Janeway closed her eyes. Chakotay. Five years in jail. Seven of Nine dying in a shuttle crash two years later. Chakotay, who was unable to come to terms with her death. How he mourned, dying himself not long after Seven. An  infection of the liver that was treatable. He wanted to go. She had been by his deathbed and remembered their last, difficult conversation...

 

"I will see her soon, Kathryn..."

 

And what about me, Chakotay? she had wanted to ask the dying man then. Did she ask her question out loud?

 

"You have always been in my life, Kathryn. But you will not be lonely. Once, I did love you, but it was not to be. You made a choice and I made a choice...for better or for worse..."

 

"There is help, Chakotay - "

 

"No! Don't you understand, Kathryn? I cannot bear the loneliness."

 

"But I will be there for you. We can love again..."

 

"There are still others who need you, Kathryn. Live for them. I am finished..."

 

"We were once inseparable. Live, for me."

 

"My friend...my very good friend. The Sky Spirits are calling. I can see the condor. It is waiting...I will be waiting..."

 

Then he breathed his last. He had wanted to be laid to rest on Earth... She had vowed that he should wait for her... Kathryn opened her eyes, the tears stinging and dripping on her hands.

 

"You loved him?" Counsellor Goring's voice intruded on her misery.

 

"Yes." A whisper, the reply wrenched from her body.  I can't imagine a day without you... I promise to be by your side, always...  "Yes, I loved him..."

 

"But, Admiral, you were not without company while he was married to Seven of Nine. You had lovers - "

 

Goring's words pulled her thoughts away from Chakotay for a moment. She was glad she could see his face, just to mark his reaction. Her eyes were still remarkably good. It was the one thing she did see to at Starfleet Medical. 

 

"We fucked."

 

It filled her with diabolic glee to see him grow pale. To his credit he recovered quickly.

 

"There must have been some connection, Admiral. I think I may be bold enough to say you had feelings for them?"

 

"We fucked," she repeated her words in harsh self-contempt. "I had no feeling for them. They warmed my bed, nothing more. It was my body that craved connection. It's very human. There is a difference. We didn't make love, if that's what you're wondering. Making love suggests a complete sharing of mind, - "

 

" - body and soul. It is the true generous giving of the self to another without condition or fear and placing absolute faith in the partner. At the height of such lovemaking there cannot be anything more vulnerable than laying your soul bare in the face of one who could destroy you..."

 

"I...see you understand. Therefore, we fucked."

 

"Surely these lovers fulfilled something in your life."

 

"They were service providers," she replied stormily. "Service providers." She snickered at her own perverse designation for the lovers she had had. "But I tell you, they enjoyed fucking an admiral. It was a badge they could show their friends."

 

Her voice sounded bitter. It wasn't as bad as she made it out to be, but she couldn't prevent the bitterness. None of them was Chakotay; none of them came close to filling the deep, echoing void in her. So her sadness grew and grew until she gave up. The last one had been a  Starfleet Captain who proposed to her...  Her cane tapped the floor, in endless rhythmic motion. Her body rocked while the cane tapped.

 

"You do not mean that, Admiral. Why do you defame yourself so? The whole Federation remembers the legend of Admiral Janeway. They honour you still."

 

How? Her ship had been taken apart and auctioned in bits and pieces all over the Federation. Nothing was left of it, except the ship's plaque They gave it to her, as a remembrance... Voyager had become a cumbersome reminder that the Federation couldn't beat the Borg. Why did they destroy her ship? Once she told them she didn't want it converted to a museum... The idiots listened to her. Decommissioned Voyager and years later sold it in pieces rather than condemn it to a cosmic scrap yard. Who knows, one day maybe some clever dick might start a relic hunt and collect all the pieces and put together the ship and show it off in all its glory. What glory? Now, all she had left was a simple plaque. Once, during a battle in the Delta Quadrant, it had fallen off and she had told Chakotay that it had never fallen off before. She had placed it back with great duty and reverence and humility. It was good they had left her with something.

 

"Admiral?"

 

"Yes...yes..." she said tiredly.

 

"The rest of your old crew? Tell me about them..."

 

"Tom died. B'Elanna married again, this time a Klingon warrior. Miral was thrilled that her mother  found happiness again. Miral has three grown children, one of them already married. They have a network - "

 

"A support structure of family and friends around them. Loneliness can be absorbed. No individual should be lonely - "

 

"Loneliness... I am not - "

 

"Or cloak it around them and embrace it as a second skin. You begin to love that second skin, Admiral. It is a hungry animal that eats away at the insides and leaves nothing to feed on. Eventually, you have no skin."

 

"Damn you..."

 

"And the others, Admiral?" Goring asked, changing direction again.

 

Kathryn drew in a deep breath.

 

"Harry Kim got back together with his beloved Libby. They have grandchildren now. I lost Joe Carey in the last year of our journey, but his wife had given birth to a baby girl he hadn't known they conceived just before we left on our mission. Imogen Carey honoured her father when she was commissioned to captain one of the fastest vessels in the fleet. Magnus Rollins died twenty years ago, but his sons and daughter are all Starfleet officers. They have an annual family gathering where the entire Rollins clan come together. Once they invited me. It was sweet of them. Rollins was one of my finest officers - "

 

"And Tuvok?"

 

She sighed. Tuvok had been struck by dementia. How did it happen? Only ten years ago he’d died. All his family were still living on Vulcan. She had no contact with them.

 

"Admiral, do you visit their graves?"

 

"Now? I - no..."

 

"You are lying, Kathryn Janeway. Everyone knows you visit one grave regularly every month. It is not your mother's grave, nor your sister Phoebe's."

 

"You are intrusive."

 

"It is my job. You agreed, Admiral. No holds barred."

 

"Chakotay's grave. What is wrong with that?"

 

"Only that he was married to someone else."

 

"I go as his closest and most intimate friend. There are no rules against that."

 

"Agreed. But you do realise that you have told me about your crew and how they went on with their lives without you. They have family and friends to comfort one another and offer solace."

 

"They have that. They chose to have that - "

 

"As much as you have made a choice to be alone, without anyone to offer solace?"

 

"It was never deliberate. I could have had him."

 

"That I gathered, but you didn't. Why was that? Out of some mysterious fear that you might not be in control of your life anymore?"

 

"I didn't know that making that choice would also mean traveling my road alone. I left him...Yes," she whispered, "I left him... he waited for me."

 

"Would you call it a mistake, Admiral, that you couldn't tell him of your feelings? Of your love?"

 

She was quiet. Chakotay had looked lost when she turned him away. Then he chose Seven and became happy. She didn't think he could be happy. That had sat in her gut all these years. Chakotay was happy with his Seven. He didn't need her in his life anymore. Yet, if she had said yes, it would have made him the happiest man. A man, she thought with great irony, who could not bear to be alone, and so, even if he didn't love his wife half as much as she deserved, he would be content. Content, because there was someone with whom he could share his life and have a history, a past and a future.

 

"I am alone now. That's proof enough, isn't it?"

 

"But your cloaks and masks, Admiral. They are showing cracks. I can see them."

 

"What is loneliness? You stand in a crowd of people you once knew intimately and you realise suddenly, there is no one who thinks that you have needs, that you need. You stand in a crowd and they look at you not as an individual who could share her grief about a dear friend who died, but as a former great Captain, an Admiral who just happens to be so strong that her failures, her shortcomings, her need to love and be loved is hidden behind a mask that laughs, that jokes along and kisses the little children and hugs the parents of the little children. They feel pity, maybe, but when they go home, they put their children to bed, then they go to bed and they make love. Afterwards they lie side by side and discuss Admiral Janeway and how upbeat she looked. How the hell could they know? It's a human foible, Counsellor. Your concern is fleeting, because your own life needs living, and it does so because it has the lifeblood to do it ... You lack the conscience that will make you go out late that night and knock on Admiral Janeway's door and demand that you keep her company because you sense she needs it..."

 

"So you are lonely."

 

"What does that prove?"

 

"That you acknowledge that you are, Admiral. It is an important step. Next is to do something about that loneliness. It is a choice you make. Meet people again, even the very young. A special facility might just - "

 

"I will not go - "

 

" - not be the right place for you."

 

"Thank you, Counsellor. That is the first wise thing you have uttered today."

 

"I'm glad I could help."

 

She saw him smile.

 

Smile...smile... Were those dimples she saw? Why was his hair so black, cropped short? He looked so near, so familiar. Hands pressed on the cane as she lifted herself and shuffled slowly to where he sat.

 

"Chakotay...?"

 

"No, Admiral. I am Counsellor Goring."

 

"I must go...I must go..." she said, turning jerkily away from the Bajoran. "I must get out of here. Chakotay, he is calling for me. I must go..."

 

"Admiral, I beg you, you are to be accompanied by a helper..."

 

"Damn you. I don't need any help... Leave me alone!"

 

Kathryn trembled as she exited the counsellor's office. Blinded by angry, bitter tears, she stumbled down the corridor and found herself minutes later outside. Goring would certainly send someone after her, but she didn't care.

 

"Admiral! Where are you going?"

 

She looked up, saw Goring running towards her.

 

"I don't need help - "

 

"Can I take you somewhere, Admiral?"

 

She hesitated when she saw the eagerness in his eyes. Did she mean something to someone after all?

 

"The grave... Chakotay wanted to be buried here, on Earth..."

 

"Aye, Admiral."

 

Goring took her to the great graveyard at Starfleet Headquarters, where Chakotay's gravestone covered a patch of green grass, away from the other graves, under a tree. All the time, Goring spoke to her as they walked very slowly as he matched his pace with hers, with her arm hooked through his.

 

"You are a good man, Counsellor. I would have put another counsellor out of business."

 

"I was only honest, and my desire is to help. Let me help."

 

"Yes..."

 

"I have always admired you, you know. I have read extensively of your exploits in the Delta Quadrant and I don't think there was anyone in the universe, not even the great Captain James T. Kirk, who showed greater skill and leadership and caring than you did, Admiral."

 

"That is certainly very effusive, young man."

 

"You are a legend. You may not know it, Admiral, but many young people have accepted you as their role model, a woman of fine intellect, the smartest in the entire universe, I'm sure."

 

"Also the stupidest - "

 

"Oh, no, Admiral! I could see how many of the decisions you made while on Voyager were in the best interest of the crew. A leader must be willing to accept being unpopular too - "

 

"Too Machiavellian. You just don't want to say it.."

 

"But I'm sure they all loved and respected you..."

 

"They got on with their lives, Goring, and left me behind."

 

"They didn't, I can tell you that - "

 

"Now?"

 

"Well, you weren't willing to hear it back in the session, and besides, most of what we spoke of was off the record."

 

"I thank you for that."

 

She was growing tired, but Goring kept on talking, softly, as if he sensed she needed just to hear his voice. His arm was a welcome support as she clung to him while they walked. It was overcast; once she looked up at the sky and a cloud, dark and ominous, suddenly changed shape.  She thought it looked like a condor in full flight.

 

"And Admiral, when we leave the grave, you are welcome to share our meal tonight with my family. My son Lonro would very much like to make your acquaintance... It has long been his dream to be at the Academy and follow the exploits of a very famous Starfleet Captain whose ship was lost in the Delta Quadrant and which she so heroically brought home after seven years."

 

"That would be a conflict of interest, wouldn't it?  Fraternising with your client - "

 

Goring laughed.

 

"As of this moment, I discharge you as my client, Admiral. Here, we're almost here," he said as they entered the graveyard. "I shall wait here, Admiral..."

 

She looked at him gratefully, glad that he sensed she wished to be alone at the grave. Goring kept a respectful distance. Now, the voice she kept hearing  was that of her beloved. He was calling her and her feet carried her slowly towards the slope. She turned once, and saw Goring still standing where she’d left him. He nodded to her. Taking a deep breath, she started up the low hill. Panting, she reached the top, for the first time dropping the cane as she moved towards the grave. There were dry leaves strewn over the stone. It seemed her bones creaked as she bent down and swept the leaves away.

 

A simple stone, bearing only his name.

 

Chakotay.

 

Kathryn looked up at the sky. They were all there, the Sky Spirits, the grey eagle Chakotay loved so much. Hovering, hovering gently and waiting.

 

"Chakotay... I am coming. I can't be lonely anymore. Here, look at me. I'm old and so very tired of being alone."

 

Did she hear him call her?

 

Hands with gnarled fingers tried to move the stone. It remained in place, but her hands dug into the soft soil around it; she began to scratch frantically, moving away clumps of grass and dark sand.

 

"Let me be with you, Chakotay. I can't bear it any longer..." Desperately she scraped away. "I am coming..."

 

From the depths of darkness came the voice, calling her. It swirled about in her head and in her heart and soul, suffusing her being completely until she went down where the darkness cloaked itself around her once more.

 

The voice kept calling...

 

I am coming...

 

Then with agonising slowness the darkness became light, swelling to a point where it almost blinded her.

 

Kathryn blinked several times when the voice released her and unraveled the twisted threads in her brain. She was bathed in bright sunlight, and when she could focus, noticed that there were people walking about. She was in a busy marketplace on Striata, a planet they had visited for shore leave.

 

An old woman stood in front of her. Her eyes were dark green and she wore the headgear of her race. Kathryn looked down at her hands. They were smooth, clear, free of the ugly knobs. There was no grit or sand or deep, bloodied scratches. She was wearing her uniform, the red of command, so welcome... She touched her hair, pulled a few strands to see not the extreme white, but golden burnished hair. Healthy, golden hair.

 

Mist formed in her eyes. This woman had appeared in front of her and touched her hand...

 

"You touched my hand..."

 

The old woman nodded and smiled kindly. A lump formed in Kathryn's throat. A sudden image again, of the old Kathryn Janeway lying over the gravestone of Chakotay...  A lonely, bitter old woman whose life was without cheer.

 

"How did you know?" she whispered.

 

"I am the Oracle of the Ages. I sensed the great battle within you... I showed you your road ahead..."

 

"It was an empty road. She went to her end with so little dignity."

 

"Life, as you've said, Captain Janeway, is made of choices."

 

She understood.

 

"Yes."

 

"Kathryn...?"

 

The same voice that called to her from the dark depths. She swung round. Chakotay stood there, watching her, waiting patiently for her. She noted the dimples, the short cropped hair, the familiar, beloved planes of his face. She moved to him and took his hands in hers and looked deep into his dark eyes. Loneliness was a hungry animal that could eat away at her insides and leave  terrible emptiness.

 

Did the blue sky suddenly become lighter? Could it have been her eyes that mirrored the light that heralded the dawning of freedom? All she knew was that the heavy burden, the dark gloom that had imprisoned her was suddenly gone. In front of her stood the man without whom she knew she would never experience happiness.

 

"Chakotay..."

 

His name fell from her lips like the soft promise of a new morning. Chakotay frowned, but his look was hopeful, as if hope itself lit up his eyes.

 

"Chakotay," she breathed again.

 

"What is it?" he asked.

 

"I have a proposal to make..."

 

****

 

END