Eternal.

By Pook

Written for the 5^th anniversary of VAMB. A big thanks to Chris and everyone in VAMB – I’ve had a ball over the years.

Summary – Kathryn’s thoughts as the computer counts down a self-destruct sequence.

Rated PG with an extra warning – I’ve been told that this should have ‘kleenex’ tissue box warning so dear reader you have been warned.

Author’s note – A misread post in the Ready Room on VAMB and the blind panic that ensued was the cause for my muse to return after going AWOL for many months. Thanks for that, Elem – I think my blood pressure has finally returned to normal and thanks for the beta too. And thanks to Audabee for the read through too.

Disclaimer: CBS/Paramount owns everything. No infringement intended.

~~~~

“…. five minutes to self-destruct.” The computer continued to count down exactly how long they had to live.

A severely bruised and battered Voyager was defenceless and adrift in space.

Jagged pieces of conduit hung haphazardly from the ceiling. Smoke billowed from the sparking, damaged consoles. The smell of sweat pervaded the air, adding to the already acrid redolence on the Bridge.

Captain Janeway pushed back a wayward strand of hair, as she sat in her command chair and quickly surveyed her Bridge crew. They manned their stations quietly and efficiently just as they’d always done. All were waiting and hoping for B’Elanna to provide one last engineering miracle to get them out of this dire situation but the captain knew it was hopeless. All her engineering experience told her that.

Voyager’s heart, her warp and impulse engines had died. They would never pulse again and Kathryn would never feel that familiar and comforting throbbing through her boots.

“Warning, self-destruct sequence has been initiated. Warp core overload in four minutes. Four minutes to self-destruct.”

With her eyes fixed firmly on the viewscreen, Kathryn sat; attempting to look composed for her crew as the computer once again announced their fate. For one last time, she’d be the captain they all expected her to be. Her voice had remained strong throughout her brief message to the crew, informing them of her decision even as she’d watched on the viewscreen, the dark and menacing ships close in on their position. All that remained was to act like a captain and go down with ship in a dignified manner.

If only the crew could sense how she struggled to calm herself. Silly things started to aggravate her. For the first time, she realized just how much the computer’s female voice annoyed her; like the much-hated and overbearing English schoolteacher she’d once had. Most of all, she wanted to rage against their unknown tormentors who’d finally succeeded in fatally crippling her fine ship after three days of trying. It wasn’t fair but then much in life wasn’t. They’d come so far, evolving into the best crew and friends she’d ever had the privilege of serving with and she didn’t want to go out limply.

Nor would they.

“Warning, self-destruct sequence has been initiated. Warp core overload in three minutes. Three minutes to self-destruct.”

She hoped she’d timed the destruct sequence correctly. It had to be done while the computer still had enough power to force open the magnetic restrictors separating the anti-matter from the rest of the ship and, in a blink of an eye, Voyager would be blown apart. In doing so, she hoped to take a couple of the enemy ships with them.

Janeway wanted to do to them what their enemy, over the last three days, had remorselessly tried, and finally succeeded, in doing to Voyager.

To destroy them.

It wasn’t the normal Starfleet company line but it was an honest one. Their enemy hadn’t answered any of their hails nor had they initiated any calls to Voyager. All they’d done was to hunt them down relentlessly, striking them hard and fast, retiring and then doing it all again. All the crew were tired and she recalled that she’d only slept for five hours in the last three days, if one could call being unconscious, sleeping. She’d been knocked out during one of the attacks.

“Torres to Captain Janeway.”

By the resigned tone of B’Elanna’s voice, all the bridge crew knew that she’d failed to fix the engines.

“Go ahead.”

“I … I’m so …” The Klingon’s voice cracked with emotion. She couldn’t finish her words. She couldn’t say that she’d failed.

“I know. It’s all right, B’Elanna,” Kathryn replied softly, trying to reassure her chief engineer. She looked at the back of Tom’s head and made a decision. As they were dead in the water, she didn’t need a helmsman. “Tom, go.”

With a nod of thanks, Tom Paris sprinted for the lift and headed down to engineering.

“Warning, self-destruct sequence has been initiated. Warp core overload in two minutes. Two minutes to self-destruct.”

Her hands gripped together a little tighter. She wasn’t a religious person but if she did manage to be reincarnated then her first action would be to change the tone of the computer’s voice.

Two minutes.

One hundred and twenty seconds.

Thirty six breaths.

One hundred and forty heart beats.

As she did some mental arithmetic, she contemplated using a silent count down but rejected it, reasoning it gave the crew time to make their peace. Not knowing would have been far worse than knowing, she thought.

The enemy ships steadily approached from all sides.

“Warning, self-destruct sequence has been initiated. Warp core overload in one minute. One minute to self-destruct.”

So this was it. Kathryn was going to die. At least she had the comfort of it being under her control and where she wanted it to be; on the bridge of her ship, next to the man she loved with all her heart and soul.

In a perfect world, she’d have loved to have grown old with Chakotay but it wasn’t going to be. Despite that, a sense of peace came over her knowing that Chakotay believed that they’d always be together after they died. That would be enough for her.

“Warning, self-destruct sequence has been initiated. Warp core overload in thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to self-destruct.”

Kathryn reached across their shared command console to find Chakotay’s hand. She wanted to touch him one last time.

He returned her reassuring squeeze and then he began to slowly rub his thumb on the back of her hand.

Kathryn could just make out the whisper of a prayer said in his native tongue.

“Ten … nine … eight …”

Kathryn leant toward Chakotay and whispered, “I love you.”

“Seven … six… five …”

“Kathryn, know this isn’t goodbye. I love you.”

“Four … three … two …”

“I know.”

“One…”

….