Stone walls and iron bars

A short story by

vanhunks

Rating: [G]

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns the characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Five years after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant, Admiral Janeway has a conversation with her aide, Prakash Kimendi.

STONE WALLS AND IRON BARS

The year 2378 was the Federation's greatest year. It marked the return of a ship to the Alpha Quadrant - a Flying Dutchman of modern times, a ship called Voyager. It appeared suddenly, through a transwarp hub, settling precariously on the rims of a large nebula. She was greeted by a throng, a host, a fleet, a Federation that welcomed her like a long lost child. Voyager had been lost for seven years. At one point I believe, listed missing in action and its crew presumed dead.

Voyager fulfilled the dreams and fantasies of many an Academy cadet, young school child, even captains and admirals in Starfleet. Her achievements were legion, her adventures of the kind only existing in the dreams of many. Every person listened in awed silence as her glory was broadcast throughout the Federation, her homecoming made possible by her exemplary crew led by an exemplary Captain.

Captain Kathryn Janeway. Her name was legend.

I worked for this legend.

My name is Prakash Kimendi and I am Admiral Janeway's personal aide. I saw to it that she slept, remembered to eat, kept her appointments, joined her on the rare visits to other worlds on diplomatic missions. I saw when she was sad, angry, distressed, brooded in darkness, laughed at the antics of Tom Paris's daughter, stared into the distance, her eyes and mind in places no one knew. I saw her melancholy, her lack of cheer, her lapse into laughter that sounded more like the brittle cackle of a witch than the gentle chuckle  at something humorous befitting perhaps, an admiral. Sometimes I saw her brush away a stray tear from her cheek.

A woman whose beauty belied her loneliness.

She moved about the spacious office with all the appearance of devotion to her task, urgency, paying homage to the Federation with diligence, discipline, with  obedience that surprised me. Why? Her exploits in the Delta Quadrant, everything I've heard about her, the decisions she made that bordered on insurrection - her obedience now didn't fit the profile of the Captain Janeway I had heard about. One of her crew - Tom Paris - told me the Federation killed Kathryn Janeway. Tom Paris had looked angry when he uttered those words.

"They locked her in her office. It was a trade-off…"

I had heard about it, never asked Admiral Janeway outright about the Federation's pardon of the Maquis. Once, when I mustered the courage to mention the Maquis, all she said in a very terse voice was, "They didn't go to jail."

"Prakash."

Her voice startled me.

"Yes, Admiral?" I asked, after five years still not able to let the reality sink in that I beat about two hundred prospective applicants for the position of aide to this illustrious woman. My sister once asked me what the hell was I thinking baying for the job.

"How long have you been working for me?"

"Five years, Admiral."

Admiral Janeway nodded. A silence fell in the office, my words drifting to the floor like an accusation.

"It is quiet."

"The academic year finished three days ago," I told her. It was summer. Didn't she know?

"That is not what I meant, Prakash."

What did she want to force out of me? It was always quiet in the office. An air of efficiency, overlaid by gloomy reflections, a reservedness that had begun to touch me too, rested here. Next door was Admiral Steinhauser's office and there was always a buzz even when his grandchildren weren't around. Those children barged into his office at all times and the old gentleman was always overjoyed to see them.

I sigh. That never happened here. My excitement at fulfilling my role as aide had settled into what it was now - knowing every breath the admiral took, every sigh which I seemed to have logged as part of my own daily breathing these days, every look at silent subjects in silver frames.

"What did you mean, Admiral?"

"It is quiet."

Her eyes followed me as I moved about the office. They burned into my back, empowered my concealed courage that was wrenched from my insides to be bared brashly in her aloof presence.  I turned to look at her, my gaze not wavering.

"Yes, it is quiet, Admiral. You always tell me that."

For a brief instant I was privy to the windows in her eyes. From her depths, it seemed, they allowed me insight which I have never imparted to anyone. Never. I gave her my faith, my loyalty and my honour. I could never betray her. She smiled, a half smile that was as beauteous as it was forced. Simultaneously, these opposites coalesced and made her the woman she was to Admirals Paris, Hays and others, her family, the crew of Voyager during their reunions. I was told about her masks. Here in this office, there were none. I was more than just her aide. I was the mirror of her reality.

That was why I too, suffered.

"I hate the quiet."

"But it was your choosing, Admiral," I replied levelly. She wanted me incarnated as her inner voice.  Who was I to disappoint her?

"No, Prakash. They keep me here." 

I had always just suspected. Now, she has reached the end of her endurance. What remained of her -  stripped, unvarnished -  was about to be torn to pieces.

"Who, Voyager?"

"Starfleet. Command. I am chained to this - this metal ball…"

"It can be different. You know that."

How had she lasted five years without looking through a view port at strange worlds and knowing that she could be an instrument of change?

"Do you know what I miss, Prakash?" she asked, suddenly diverting from the original topic.

"Voyager?"

A brief flash of something dark. I can only hazard a guess.

"Noise."

"Ah, children, parties, reunions - "

"It is still too quiet, then. The noise…here," she indicated as she placed her forefinger against her temple.

"You want that?" I asked, surprised. I assumed it was just Voyager, its crew, even the man whose face filled the silver frame on her desk.

"All of it. I am in a vacuum, Prakash. It's my head, empty of the constant noise, a buzz of activity, constant danger, constant alerts. Being forever aware that the minutest disturbance can mean peril, hazards waiting in every nebula, on every planet, every alien race."

She paused, stared pensively out the window. Janeway in profile wrenched at something in me. I didn't have a clue what she meant, save that she missed the noise of Voyager, that she missed Voyager. Was I too disengaged from her in these few moments to understand? My role of incarnation had served its time, albeit briefly.

"I'm afraid I don't  - "

"A giant explosion," she cuts in. "It reverberates all over the quadrant and then it echoes in your brain; your body quivers for hours afterwards. You were part of that, part of the action, damage control, saving your ship, your crew, the lives of thousands, whole worlds… Sometimes you broke the rules, braved mutiny, exchanged with your first officer heated words that screamed principles, protocols, rules… The echoes remain long after the explosion, the dust and noise had settled. You lie in bed and feel the trembling, persistent vision of people staring at you, depending on you, grateful faces, smiling faces, angry faces, dead faces… You see successive supernovas and you remember you had just been a part of something fearsome, something earth-shattering, something breathtaking…"

There was a cry inside me as I stared at her in wordless awe. Admiral Janeway breathed in deeply. Starfleet Command had punished this woman by chaining her to her desk, imprisoning her in her own office, day after day.

On Voyager she had been faced with constant movement, constant sound, even in her sleep. In every corridor she walked, every Jefferies tube she crawled through, every holodeck programme she activated she had been alive and driven. Seven years long her life had been one of energy, of thriving on every known and unknown element even though their presence in the Delta Quadrant was not by design. A restless ship with a restless crew led by their restless captain. In the face of the Federation's nemesis, she brought  Voyager and her crew successfully, unexpectedly to Earth five years ago.

"It is quiet, Admiral. You need a ship."

I wanted to touch her, console her.  She was not old, yet she was fading away into the silence, into the darkness, merging with these walls... Her former crew left  weeks ago after their reunion. The face in the silver frame had remained behind longest. There had been a moment when they'd held hands, staring into one another's faces. A greeting, a quiet nod of the head. Why she never told him to stay had drifted with the silences into the empty office, filled this void where, like a greedy consort, gloom had waited to enshroud her.

Why did she punish herself so?

"Command - "

"You need the noise, Admiral," I cut in, before she could finish finding excuses. "You cannot function without it."

"Prakash."

"Yes, Admiral?"

"The driving force is no longer there."

"You are mistaken. They have punished you, for his sake. He lives in Mexico, when he's on Earth. If only you could go to him and tell him."

"There is nothing - "

"Forgive me, Admiral. I do not see a picture of your mother, or your sister and her daughters, or your late father here on your desk. This man was part of your universe for seven years. He shared your explosions."

"He made a choice," Admiral Janeway said on a sigh. "I could not enter that realm, you understand?"

"He left that realm…a long time ago."

"What do you expect me to do? Walk up to him and tell him the Delta Quadrant awaits us?"

"Do something very impulsive, have Starfleet Command demote you, live happily ever after."

"There is no happily - "

The door suddenly opened. I didn't hear the chime or else the newcomer simply entered the codes himself. He stood just inside the door, took one step forward then stopped again. There was a determined set to his face as he looked at Admiral Janeway. A vein in his jaw twitched. The tattoo appeared to move.

"Chakotay?" 

The tone of voice she reserved for me was gone, replaced by a mellow tenderness. I have never heard her say a name quite like that before. I wanted to beat a retreat, go somewhere and eat fish, visit my sister, stand outside and eavesdrop.

Instead, I stood stiffly on attention, unable to move. Captain Chakotay raised a hand and touched my shoulder.

"At ease, Kimendi, before you sprain something."

"Chakotay?" Admiral Janeway repeated the captain's name. "What are you doing here?"

"My ship is in orbit, Kathryn. I'll not wait another day. If you want the explosions, come with me."

I realised Captain Chakotay had been standing outside the door and had heard Admiral Janeway's words. I wanted to throw my arms around him and shout 'hallelujah'. I wanted to pull Admiral Janeway from her chair and make her stand close to her man. She was dying slowly, shriveling up inside and wasting away. She needed him, for he was in every breath she took.  That I knew...now.

"I had to accept this promotion to free you," she whispered, the excuse springing half-heartedly from her lips.

"I know, Kathryn. And you've paid your dues."

"Admiral," I managed at last, "you are sitting in the wrong chair."

Light had suddenly filled the room, crept into every corner and banished Kathryn Janeway's loneliness.

"He's right, Kathryn. Now, are you coming?"

I looked at the two of them in turn. First at the captain. He didn't look like he was going to take no for an answer. I turned to Admiral Janeway. She didn't look like she was going to refuse. The excuse had silently died. Admiral Janeway looked…she looked radiant. Captain Chakotay walked round the desk and pulled her gently up from her chair, my brief fantasy of doing that very thing joyfully shattered. He bent down to kiss her; she practically vanished in his embrace. I wanted to run out the room, but my feet were welded to the floor. When the kiss ended, Admiral Janeway looked at me.

"Do not worry about me, Admiral," I said, seeing in her eyes the brief flash of guilt that she was leaving me behind.

"Prakash…"

"Yes, Admiral?"

"The wrong chair, you say?"

"Aye, Admiral!"

"Kimendi," Captain Chakotay said gruffly, about to touch his commbadge.

"Yes, Captain?"

"If they ask, tell them Admiral Janeway has resigned." 

"Aye, Captain!"

"Chakotay to Voyager. Two to beam up."

Long after they were gone, I could still hear the Admiral's bright laughter.

************ 

END

Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage

                                                                      -   Lovelace in "To Althea, from prison"

vanhunks

June 2004