Fading Echoes of Glory
By Ralkana

-- Alfred, Lord Tennyson, "Charge of the Light Brigade," 1864.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Captain Chakotay sat in the ready room, head in hands, thinking over the last month and all of the events that had brought him to this painful moment. Eventually he raised his head, staring vaguely at the ceiling.

"Computer," he began, and then, "Are you there?" He wasn’t even sure if the voice interface was still working.

"Please res… estion."

It was working, to a certain extent. It seemed to be the only thing that was. The hisses and pops embedded in the answer woke up the baby, who began squalling again. Chakotay sighed and quickly picked him up, trying to rock him, but the boy would not be soothed. His cries were getting weaker and they tore at Chakotay’s heart.

"Is the auto-destruct mechanism still functional?" It was a question he hated to ask, but one that he knew was necessary.

"Aff…ative."

The loud static frightened the baby again, and he thrashed in his father’s arms. Chakotay stood and carried him to the viewport, looking out at the stationary stars. He rocked and bounced his son, trying to calm him, eventually giving him a finger to suck. The infant sucked hungrily for several seconds, but when no food was forthcoming, he threw his head back and screamed lustily again. The frantic sound brought tears to his father’s eyes.

"I’m sorry, Paka. I don’t have anything to give you!" He glared angrily at the useless replicator. His own stomach growled, and he glanced briefly at the ration bar sitting on the desk. No. He would not eat while his son went hungry. Besides, it wouldn’t matter in a few hours anyway.

There was a knock on the ready room door. The chime had quit working weeks ago, and it was minor in the wake of all the other damage, so it had not been repaired, and now it never would be.

"Come in," he called, and the doors slid haltingly open.

Tom Paris limped in, wincing at the volume of Kolopak’s cries. The dead, dull look on the younger man’s face—one that Chakotay realized was mirrored in his own features—disappeared for a moment, replaced by a twisting rictus of grief that was quickly banished. Chakotay knew that Tom was thinking of his own son and daughter, still buried in the rubble of the childcare center on Deck Five.

"Report," the captain said wearily.

"Warp drive, impulse, and thrusters are down. Shields are at 9%, and we have one lateral phaser bank operating intermittently," Tom recited in a dreary monotone. "Most primary and nearly all secondary systems are down. We’ve discovered a leak in the life support systems. We’re going to lose artificial gravity in about two hours, and we’ll run out of air in about four to five hours. Short range sensors aren’t functioning, and long range isn’t giving us much more than ghosts, but Chakotay, there are some pretty big ghosts out there. Ayala says he thinks there’s a Draylin fleet heading toward us, about fifteen ships. They’re probably going to be here in about five or six hours. Won’t matter much. By then we’ll all be dead."

"Yes, but Voyager will still be here for the taking. I won’t allow that. Send a runner to gather the crew in—" he broke off and sighed. "Where? How many of us are left?"

"At last count, there were forty six adults—" Tom gazed at Kolopak, who had cried himself into exhaustion again and was lying limply in his father’s arms, "—and one child. Several of those were badly injured, though, and I don’t know who’s left."

"Send a runner around to gather all of the crew in the mess hall in an hour. Also, tell everyone to go through the medkits we have left… find all the sedatives they can."

"Sir?"

"Just in case, Tom. We’re going to destroy this ship. I won’t let it be taken… it’s the only thing I can do now."

Tom heard the grief that crept into Chakotay’s command tone, momentarily making the man’s voice tremble. He nodded crisply once. "Yes, sir," he snapped out quietly, so as not to wake the baby. He turned on his heels and marched out of the ready room as well as he could, leaving the door to slide jerkily shut behind him.

Chakotay sank down on the scorched and debris-covered sofa, trying to come to terms with the idea that this was the last hour of his life. He looked down into the flushed, thin face of his sleeping son and felt the tears come.

"I’m sorry, Kathryn," he whispered. "So sorry… I’ve failed you."

Just uttering her name brought back all the memories, and he fought to keep from screaming out his grief. His mind’s eye fixed on the image he knew would be the last thing he saw before he died, would haunt him throughout the afterlife. His wife’s bloody, broken body trapped under a collapsed bulkhead in their quarters, their frightened but uninjured son screaming helplessly beneath her. She had curled herself around him, given her life to protect her child.

And now, that child was going to die anyway. In less than an hour, Chakotay was going to give the order that would kill his own son, negating the sacrifice made by the woman he had loved more than life. That same order would kill him and what was left of the crew he had sworn to protect. His stomach heaved, and he bent forward, rapidly shifting his son from one arm to the other, not wanting to crush the boy as he placed his head between his knees. The movement woke Kolopak, and father and son cried together.

Chakotay took deep breaths, trying to calm himself, but it didn’t work. He felt his pulse and breathing began to race as the panic set in. What if it doesn’t work? What if it doesn’t blow up the ship? What if it only maims everyone? What if it kills you and leaves Paka alone? He’ll starve to death, he’ll run out of air, or the Draylin will get him! Can’t let that happen!

Before he really knew what he was doing, he had cupped his hand and placed it tightly over the baby’s nose and mouth. Kolopak began to struggle, but Chakotay, in his panicked state, only pressed down harder. It was only when the struggles began to lessen that he realized what he was doing and tore his hand away with a wrenching cry.

The baby drew in a huge gasp of air and began screaming again, louder than ever. The bright purple tone of his face began to fade, but his screams wailed on and on like a klaxon. Chakotay lifted his son to his shoulder, flinching slightly as the screams were directed right into his ear.

"I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry," he murmured, repeating the words over and over like a mantra as he rocked back and forth.

A hand touched his other shoulder, and without thinking, he lashed up and out with the heel of his hand, striking the intruder right in the face. He heard the person stumble backwards, knocking into something with a crash, and only then did he look away from his child. The sight that greeted him tore an astonished gasp from him, surprising him out of the tightening spiral of his panic and grief.

Q was sprawled among the remains of the coffee table, holding his nose with both hands. "Ow," he said, and his voice was muffled. "That hurt." He picked himself up to stand in front of Chakotay, straightening his uniform as he did so.

"What do you want, Q? Come to save us? You’re a bit late. Going to fix Voyager? Won’t matter, we’ll be dead from another attack in a few hours anyway. Going to throw us past Draylin space? Doesn’t make a difference; I can’t run this ship with so few people left. Not that anyone wants to live anymore. Just let us die in peace."

"He certainly sounds like he wants to live," Q drawled, gesturing at the howling baby.

"He hasn’t eaten in two days, Q. His mother’s dead, and his father just tried to kill him. What the hell do you want?"

"You’re right, Chakotay. It is too late for me to save your ship without major manipulation, and I’ve been forbidden to do that. But maybe I can save my godson." Chakotay just stared at him. "What? You named me his godfather, and I intend to take my duties just as seriously as Kathy took hers to my son."

Chakotay’s face crumpled at the mention of his dead wife and captain but almost immediately hardened again. "What do you have planned? You’re not taking him back to the continuum," he said firmly.

Q snorted. "No, I’m not. It’s no place for mortals. But there is a better place for him." He saw the distrust in the other man’s face. "Look, I know you don’t like me. You never have. But right now, you’re going to have to trust me. I’m your son’s only hope. I’m not doing this for you; I don’t particularly like you either. I’m doing this for Kathy, and for her—and your—son."

Chakotay closed his eyes briefly, knowing that Q was right. He nodded, and Q snapped his fingers. The three of them were in the same positions, in the same place—the ready room—but everything was different. The room was pristine, undamaged and well lit, and the smell of freshly-replicated coffee wafted through the air, causing Chakotay’s stomach to grumble loudly. When he craned his neck around to look out the viewport, he could see that the ship was traveling at warp.

"Q! What are you doing? Take Paka, but take me back to the ship—my ship! I can’t be away right now!"

"Relax. When I take you back, it will be to the moment you left. Hopefully, your son will still be here, but that’s up to you. After I explain everything, you’re on your own…"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Captain Janeway was bored. This area of space was remarkably dull, had been for weeks. She wished for a nebula or a star system, a first contact—friendly, she amended hastily—anything to distract her from this tedium. She caught herself drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair and stopped herself with effort, risking a glance at her first officer. He glanced back at her, giving her a barely-dimpled half-smile.

"Bored?" he whispered.

She drew herself up straight, out of the slouch into which she had slumped. Before she could answer, there was a flash of light, and Q stood before them. There were barely concealed gasps and groans from most of the bridge crew.

"When I wished for a diversion, this was not what I had in mind," she muttered, and Chakotay sighed in agreement. Louder, she demanded, "What do you want, Q?"

"Nice to see you too, Kathy," he responded, but his voice was unusually subdued. "There’s someone in your ready room who needs to talk to you."

"What?"

Q sighed. "You have an appointment. In your ready room. Now," he said, and with a wave of his hand, the ready room doors slid open. The unmistakable sound of a baby’s cry floated out, causing most of the bridge crew to gasp again.

Kathryn and her first officer stood quickly, turning toward her office. Q stepped forward, planting a hand on Chakotay’s shoulder and shoving him back down into his chair.

"Uh uh. You stay here. For now."

"Get your goddamn hand off me," Chakotay growled, and both he and Kathryn glared at Q, who sighed impatiently but backed off.

"Look. Go in there, now," he told Kathryn. "You can do so of your own free will, or I can put you in there. I just thought you’d prefer to walk in under your own power. And you, Tattoo Boy, sit down and shut up, or I’ll ensure that you do so. This is too important to mess around with." Dealing with two Chakotays was giving him a headache, but he willed it away with a quick gesture. This Chakotay glared at him again but kept quiet. Kathryn gave him one last look and stalked toward her office.

She stepped through the door and stopped in shock, just out of range of the sensors, allowing the doors to slide shut behind her. Chakotay was standing at her replicator, facing away from her, but she recognized the raven hair and broad shoulders. His hair was mussed and his uniform was rumpled and torn in several places, but it was him.

He turned, and she gasped. The front of his uniform was even more of a mess, and he had a clean but unhealed gash on his forehead, and a dark bruise on his cheek. A gold band glinted dully on the ring finger of his left hand, and he was holding a child. A very young, screaming baby, who was squirming in his arms, avoiding the bottle he was trying to give it. He looked exhausted, and his appearance and something in the rigid way he held himself told her all was not well in his world.

"I used your replicator," he said tightly. "I didn’t think you would mind, seeing as my son hasn’t eaten in two and a half days." She gaped at him but said nothing. He wouldn’t look at her, couldn’t look at this woman who was Kathryn, but not his Kathryn.

"Chakotay…" she murmured, moving closer, but he flinched and she stopped.

"Please…" he said, in anguish. "Don’t call me that… I can’t handle it."

"Okay," she said soothingly, and he finally looked up. When he raised his head, she saw the rank bar on his collar and the haunted look in his eyes, and she grabbed onto the desk to remain standing. So that was it. In his world, she was dead. "Captain, then… what can—"

He growled suddenly in frustration, turning away from her. "He won’t take it! He won’t eat! I don’t know what to do," he said, and when he turned back, she could see the tears in his eyes, which shook her even more. She had rarely seen Chakotay cry. She came closer, and placed a hand on his arm. He stiffened, and she could feel him trembling under her touch, struggling not to fall apart.

"Why don’t we take him to sickbay? Maybe the Doc can help." Before he could respond, she tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Kim. Mr. Kim, how many life signs are you reading in the ready room?"

"Three, Captain," he responded warily.

"Good. Lock onto all of us and beam us to Sickbay, please."

"Ma’am?" She heard the concern in his voice.

"We’re all fine, Ensign. Please do as I asked."

"Yes, ma’am. Locking on. Kim out."

As soon as they materialized, she turned to Chakotay… Captain Chakotay. "May I call Chak—my first officer? Whatever this is about, I think he should be here, and he’s probably worried sick." When he nodded, she tapped her combadge again. "Janeway to Chakotay, please report to Sickbay."

"On my way. Chakotay out."

The Doctor had watched the previous exchange in astonishment. "What is going on here, Captain?" he asked eventually.

"I’m not sure. All I know is that we have a baby here who hasn’t eaten in two days and who won’t eat now. What’s wrong with him, Doctor?"

"Two days?! Who’s been starving the child?"

The boy’s father turned on the hologram. "Our replicators went out two days ago, and our supply of formula was destroyed, as was our galley. His mother was killed three weeks ago. We have nothing to feed him. Stop commenting on things you know nothing about, and treat him, Doctor!" he finished.

The hologram simply nodded and began gathering instruments, stunned by this aggressive display from a man he normally knew to be fairly gentle and peaceful. As he efficiently set things up, Kathryn observed the man before her as he attempted, without success, to calm his screaming son. Then, the doors slid open and there was a choking sound from the entrance. They all turned to see this ship’s Chakotay staring wide-eyed at his counterpart.

"What the hell is going on?" he managed, striding quickly toward them.

Kathryn sighed. "Q, obviously. Look, we’ll figure it all out in a minute. Right now that is one very unhappy child, and we need to figure out how to help him."

The Doctor began to scan him. "How old is he? He seems very small."

His father smiled briefly, happy memories momentarily crowding out the horror of the past month. "Four months. His name is Kolopak," he added, drawing a quick gasp from this ship’s Chakotay. The wistful smile became a dull, weary expression. "He was breastfeeding until about three weeks ago, when his mother was killed protecting him during an attack. He stopped eating then for several days until we finally convinced him to take formula. Four days ago, in another attack, our replicators—along with pretty much every other system—were very badly damaged. The replicators gave out for good two days ago, and we haven’t been able to find anything to give him since then."

The Doctor nodded, quickly loading several hyposprays. "I take it you’re not from this timeline or universe, then?"

Captain Chakotay snorted. "Very observant of you, Doc. You always were an excellent diagnostician, for a trick of the light." At their surprised and dismayed looks, he sighed. "Sorry. I’m… these past few weeks have taken a hell of a toll on me." He glanced at the command team. They were standing very close together, but they were not touching. He knew instantly, looking at the lines on this Kathryn’s face, that in this timeline they had not given into their feelings… yet. Those lines had been in his Kathryn’s face until his love had smoothed them away. His plan of attack changed slightly, but he was still confident that it would work. "So what’s wrong with my son? How come he won’t eat?"

"Is he allergic to any medications?"

Captain Chakotay shook his head, and the Doctor injected the baby several times, and the squalling, which had begun to quiet, picked up again, only to quit a few moments later as Kolopak dozed in his father’s arms. "Well, nothing except slight malnutrition and a few vitamin deficiencies, as well as exhaustion. I’ve given him what he needs to make up for the malnutrition and deficiencies, and a slight sedative to give him the rest he needs. I think he was just too upset to realize you were trying to feed him."

"Thank you, Doctor," his father said sincerely. He just hoped that the Doctor’s work would not be in vain, hoped that he could convince the other two people standing before him. He looked at Kathryn. "Do you… would you mind if we returned to the ready room?" He bit his lip. "This part of the ship has… disturbing memories." As if the rest of the ship doesn’t, his inner voice spoke up bitterly.

"Not at all. Thank you, Doctor," she echoed, and he nodded and turned himself off, still staring curiously at the visitors. She turned to this ship’s Chakotay. "Why don’t you head back via the lift and meet us there?" He nodded and left, and she tapped her combadge again. "Janeway to Kim."

"Kim here, Captain."

"Reverse the transport, please."

"Aye, Captain. Kim out."

When they rematerialized in her ready room, she sat behind her desk and motioned to the chair in front of it. "Have a seat," she ordered, and he did. They simply looked at each other for several seconds, before he looked away, down at the face of his sleeping child. When the door chimed, she called for entry without taking her eyes off of him. This ship’s Chakotay strode over to the desk and rested one hip on the edge of it, looking back and forth between the captains.

Kathryn shook her head slightly, as if to clear it, and then got down to the matter at hand. "Okay. Now that that’s taken care of, what’s this all about? I take it Q didn’t bring you here just to have your son treated… where did he go, anyway?"

"He’s sitting on the bridge in your chair, scowling at the viewscreen," Commander Chakotay said.

She snorted. "At least he’s not doing impressions of me again. He’s in an odd mood."

"He’s here—and he’s brought us here—because he’s Paka’s godfather," Captain Chakotay said, and he saw his counterpart close his eyes for a moment when he heard the diminutive of the baby’s name.

"What?" Kathryn said in astonishment.

"Well, he made you his son’s godmother," Captain Chakotay countered, "you—she—thought it only fair to return the favor. Damn," he muttered, realizing what he’d let slip. Kathryn’s eyes widened and Commander Chakotay stiffened. He’d hoped to do this without revealing the identity of Kolopak’s mother outright, though he knew they’d both probably guessed. He took a deep breath. Might as well try and stick with as much of his plan as he could.

"Captain Janeway," he said formally, nearly smiling when he saw her straighten up almost imperceptibly at his address. "I am hereby requesting asylum aboard your ship on behalf of my son, Kolopak Edward."

She paled at the boy’s second name and murmured, "My father’s name." Then she shook herself out of it. "Why? Why do you want to leave your child with us?"

"Because, Captain, if he goes back to my ship with me, he’ll be dead in less than an hour. By my order."

The harsh words shocked them both. Commander Chakotay jumped up. "What?!"

"When I return, I intend to set the auto-destruct mechanism on my ship. I would prefer my son not be there when I do so."

"Surely there must be something—"

Captain Chakotay laughed harshly. "Where is your ship, Captain? At the moment?"

Kathryn called up their current course on her desk console and swiveled it to face him. He read it, and chuckled.

"Ironic. My son was born in this sector. Livened things up considerably," he mused, and Kathryn couldn’t help but smile at his words. "So, we’re on a roughly equivalent timeline then. Obviously a couple things are different. Let me tell you what’s happened on my ship since we were here."

"I don’t think—"

"No. You need to hear this. No matter what happens, stay away from the Draylin, Captain—Kathryn, I’m begging you. I will tell you what happened to us. I don’t care about any prime directives; I won’t let it happen again." Kathryn nodded, seeing how agitated he was. She would deal with the repercussions of his words later. She glanced at her Chakotay, but he was focused on his counterpart. She saw the pain in his face, and she wasn’t sure if it was caused by the baby or the multitude of things Captain Chakotay was implying with his presence, his appearance, and his words.

"About a month ago, we were met by a small fleet of ships, three or four, I can’t remember. We probably could have outgunned them if we’d tried, but they weren’t hostile. A humanoid race that called themselves the Draylin; they look kind of like Bolians. They sent us a map of the area and politely let us know that we were about to enter their space. Well, it would have taken us six months to go around, or about a month to go straight through. They offered to escort us through. They were friendly, and we had no reason to doubt them. Nearly all of the ships took off, leaving one to escort us through their space."

He stood and began to pace. Though she was concentrating on his words, Kathryn idly noticed how comfortably he held his son, and she glanced again at her first officer. He was following his counterpart’s movement with his eyes, but his body was tense, his fists clenched. It was as if he knew a blow was coming and he was preparing for it.

"About a week and a half into the trip, we were suddenly surrounded. Five ships. Small, but powerful. They attacked without warning, without even giving us a chance to raise our shields. They had been studying us, you see, learning our weak spots. It was practically a surgical strike. They went for our sickbay… and our childcare center."

He closed his eyes, sinking back down to the chair as he remembered the carnage, and he heard Kathryn’s gasp. Commander Chakotay said nothing.

"Seventeen children died. All of our children except for one," he murmured, looking down at his son again. "He wasn’t in the center at the time. He was with his mother, in our quarters…" The image of Kathryn’s mangled body rose in his mind again, and he felt the tears spill. "I was on the bridge, trying to fight back, and when Kathryn never came… I figured she’d been dropping Paka off at the time of the attack." He looked up, and the grief in his eyes brought tears to theirs. "I shut off. I went through the fight and the repairs like an android…

"Hours later, I was in Engineering—what was left of it—trying to coordinate things… Joe and B’Ela were both dead… when somebody found me and told me Kathryn and Paka were unaccounted for. I climbed thirteen decks in about two minutes, I swear. When I got to our quarters…" he swallowed rapidly, trying to dislodge the lump that had found its way into his throat. "When I got to our quarters, I could hear Paka howling. A team was there, trying to cut through the twisted bulkhead. When they finally made it through, I shoved everyone out of the way and climbed through the tiny hole they’d made. And then I saw her. She was… trapped… under a bulkhead by the door between the bedroom and Paka’s room. It had trapped her legs, almost cut her in half. She bled to death. She was probably alive for hours. Oh Gods, Kathryn…"

He broke down, sobbing, and Commander Chakotay saw that he was in real danger of dropping his son. He quickly stood and took the boy from his father, settling him easily into his arms. He felt tears on his cheeks, knowing it was from sharing his counterpart’s grief, and he cursed his active and vivid imagination. He could all too easily see Kathryn, trapped in her quarters, bleeding to death, and it made his stomach heave. He focused his attention on the baby, shoving the image out of his mind. When he felt a little better, he glanced at Kathryn. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide, almost glazed, and she was stock still. His counterpart calmed down some, and with fire in his eyes, took his son back, cradling the baby to him.

"She… she was curled around our son, trying to protect him from any further attacks. She was holding him so tightly that we had to break her arms to get him out. He wasn’t hurt… he was just lying there, covered in her blood, screaming his head off." He broke down again, but this time, his arms tightened around his son, as if daring the commander to try and take him again. He stood and turned away from them, trying to compose himself. After several minutes he spoke without turning around, and his voice was low and hoarse.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to tell you all that. I meant to tell you what happened to the ship. It’s all somewhat of a jumble in my head." When neither of them spoke, he took a deep breath and continued. "We destroyed the five ships that attacked us. At that point, we had—I had—two options. I could turn the ship around and try to get back out the closer end of Draylin space, or I could try to go forward and hope we could make it out the far end. I should have turned around. I should have tried to go back and take the six month detour. At that point we’d only lost about eight or ten crewmembers, not counting the children. We probably could have made it. I should have—"

"I wouldn’t have," Kathryn rasped, clearing her throat. "I would have kept going forward, trying to make it out the far end."

"Then it would be you preparing to kill what’s left of our crew," he said bluntly, and she blanched. "I’m sorry. It does mean something to hear you say that, to know that it’s possible she would have made the same mistake I did. But… as similar as you are… you’re not her." He broke her gaze, looking down at his son again. He continued his narrative, and his voice downshifted into a bland monotone, allowing him to recite the facts without thinking about them.

"We kept going for about a week and half; for the most part, Draylin space is fairly empty and desolate, and no one, hostile or friendly, contacted us. The next attack came from seven ships, but they were smaller ships than the first time. We fought them off and limped away, though we lost about thirty of the crew. We managed to keep the ship together with spit, baling wire, and curses. The next attack—the most recent—came about four days ago. There were only two ships this time, but it was enough. We’re now dead in space, no engines, practically no shields, and one working phaser array. Antigrav is failing, and life support will be gone in five hours. But it doesn’t matter because in about five or six hours, fifteen Draylin ships will be arriving at our coordinates. I won’t allow Voyager to be taken, so the only option left is to destroy her with all hands. Not that there are that many hands anyway. Tuvok’s dead. Harry. Seven. Neelix. B’Elanna and Kathryn died and the Doctor’s matrix destabilized in the first attack. Joe Carey, Vorik, the Wildmans, the Delaneys. Everyone’s dead. And the rest of us might as well be. There’s no hope left for us. Even Q said he can’t help us now. We can’t be saved. But Paka can." He shrugged. "Maybe it’s incredibly selfish of me to be glad it’s my son who will be the only one to survive this horror. Oh well. Besides, Q didn’t offer to save anyone else. I’ll take whatever help I can get, and if my child is first, all the better."

He stopped speaking and looked up, locking eyes with both of them. They stared at him, and then at each other, but there was plenty of uncertainty in the air.

"We can’t just take a child from another timeline and expect everything to work out," Kathryn said.

"Why not? It’s not as if you haven’t taken on unusual children before! At least, it’s not that way if your ship is anything like mine. If it is, I know you’ve rescued children from the Borg, and I know that the first child born on this ship was not born on this ship."

Captain and first officer glanced briefly at each other, each remembering the strange circumstances of Naomi Wildman’s birth. Before either could say anything, Captain Chakotay said quietly, "I will beg you if I need to."

Kathryn sighed and said, "Captain, your method of asking is not the issue—"

"Look," he interjected, and there was a tinge of desperation in his voice now. "In my universe, Kolopak Edward is the beloved child of Kathryn and Chakotay. I’m not asking for that here. I’m not asking you, Captain, to take ultimate responsibility for my child. I’m not even asking you that," he said, looking at Commander Chakotay. "Although I hope that you would have some influence in his life, Commander—I know that I would have if this had been asked of me. All I’m asking is that you ask around on your ship, find someone—anyone—who will take him in and care for him, love him as their own. If… if you can’t do that, then I ask that you leave me alone with him for a few minutes, and then—" his voice broke, "—give him a proper memorial and send-off when I’m gone."

Kathryn looked up sharply from her desk, and Commander Chakotay jumped up again, looking furious. "You would kill your own son?" he asked in a soft, deadly voice.

Captain Chakotay straightened up and stared his counterpart in the eye. "If it’s a choice between finding a way to let him die quietly in his sleep here or having him blown to his component atoms there, then yes, I’d pick the first one every time," he said in a firm voice, and Commander Chakotay looked away. "I’ve already tried once," he said, his voice now full of shame. "This morning, right before Q came… I panicked, I wasn’t thinking straight, and I tried to smother him. Thank the spirits that I stopped myself in time," he said, closing his eyes, but the tears broke free anyway. "But if you won’t take him, I…" He stopped, stroking the thick black hair that covered his son’s tiny head. "Please…" he said, but that was all he could manage to say. The silence in the room was charged, almost an entity of its own.

"I will take him in and raise him as my own, Captain. You have my word on that."

"Commander!"

"What, Kathryn? He’s right. If we don’t take this child, he will die. I could never live with myself knowing that I allowed that, especially knowing I let it happen just to avoid any minor inconveniences it might cause the ship. He has my genes; he is my son."

Kathryn saw the look of pain that crossed Captain Chakotay’s face at his counterpart’s last words. "He may have your genes, Chakotay, but he is not your son," she said softly.

"He might be the only son I ever have," he responded, just as softly, and his face now wore a matching look of pain. Her heart ached for him, and for herself. She knew, on an intellectual level, that this boy was as much her son as he was Chakotay’s, but it would be different for her. He would be her son, but she would not be his mother. Wouldn’t be there to kiss him good night, dress him in the mornings, eat dinner with him. Banishing her melancholic thoughts, she focused on him instead, noting the conviction in his eyes. She turned to the boy’s real father.

"Would you excuse us for a moment, please, Captain?"

He nodded and looked around uncertainly, unsure of where he might go to give them privacy. She stood, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You can stay here. We’ll go over there," she said, pointing towards the viewport. She gestured to her first officer, who had stood when she did. He followed her closely until they stood closeted in the farthest corner of the ready room.

"There’s nothing to discuss, Kathryn," he whispered fiercely. "I’ve already made my decision."

She bristled slightly, her sense of authority pricked. "Last time I checked, this was still my ship, Commander."

He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. "You’d deny this child his only chance at life, deny me what might be my only chance at fatherhood, just to needlessly prove once again that you’re the captain."

Kathryn sighed. "No, of course not. But the decision to have a child is a huge one, and that’s essentially the decision you’re making here. You have responsibilities to Voyager, Chakotay, probably more so than anyone on this ship besides me, and I just want you to be sure you know what you’re getting into."

"Does any new father really know what he’s getting into?"

"What do you know about raising a child, Chakotay?"

He gaped at her. "Kathryn, what is with this interrogation? What do I know about raising children? Probably more than you do! I had four younger siblings, and in my village, everyone helped to raise the children, whether they wanted to or not! And it isn’t as if I don’t have anyone on board to help me if I have questions! The Doctor’s an excellent source of advice, and we do have several fathers on board: Tuvok, Aya, Joe Carey, just to name a few. Hell, Paris and I will be in the same boat! That should please you; you’ve always wanted the two of us to have something to bond over," he said with a grin.

She hesitantly returned his grin. He sounded so confident, and she wondered how that could be when she was so anxious about all of this. She had no more arguments; it seemed to her that he had thoroughly thought this through, and she couldn’t deny either him or the child this chance. She cupped his cheek in her hand.

"You’ll make an excellent father, Chakotay. He’s lucky to have you."

He closed his eyes at her words and then reached up and took her hand in his. The intimacy of the gesture surprised her but she didn’t pull away.

"Thank you," he said. "It means a lot to me to hear you say that." He took a deep breath. "Kathryn, if you’re worried about what role I want you to play in my son’s life, don’t be. You know that I would never demand any more of you than you are willing to give. I know that you’ll have great influence on his life… after all, you will be his captain, but I don’t expect you to help me raise him, any more than Sam expected you to help her raise Naomi. I don’t expect you to be his mother, but… I hope that you will be his friend, as you are mine."

Though he’d meant for his words to calm her, they only increased her anxiety, as she began to realize again what she would miss in his life, this boy who would, for all intents and purposes, be her son. She took a moment to compose herself and then said, "Always, Chakotay. I promise you that I will do my best to always be there for your son the way his new father has always been there for me." He smiled and squeezed her hand briefly, and she said, "Come on, let’s go back."

He held her hand tightly, not letting her move back towards her desk. When she looked at him questioningly, he inclined his head slightly toward the other two in the room and murmured, "Wait a moment more… he’s saying goodbye."

Kathryn glanced surreptitiously at them and saw that Captain Chakotay was rocking his son and murmuring to him, and when he bowed his head slightly, she could see the tears glistening on his cheeks. Her heart broke to see Chakotay in so much pain, even if he wasn’t the Chakotay she cared so much for. She let him grieve for several moments longer, and then murmured, "Chakotay, I think if we let him, he’d stay here with his son forever. After all, time’s not passing on his ship. He’s got to go sometime."

Her first officer sighed and shook his head. "I know. I just hate to be the one—" His words were cut off by a bright flash of light as Q appeared next to the desk. The command team hurried over in time to hear him as he knelt next to the distraught father and spoke.

"Come on, Chakotay. It’s time to go back."

He looked up and nodded tearfully. With one last kiss to the infant’s forehead, he handed the baby to Commander Chakotay and whispered, "Goodbye, my beloved son. May the Spirits guide you well." He ran his hand through the baby’s hair and turned away before the grief could overwhelm him.

"Wait!" Kathryn said suddenly. "Q, if you leave the child here with us, what will the captain’s crew think?"

Captain Chakotay stared at her and then at Q, eyes wide and astonished in the mask of his anguish. Q sighed.

"I’ve got it all taken care of, Kathy. I’ll let Chakotay here in on it when we get back to his ship, but we do have to go now."

"Why?" Captain Chakotay grated out. "Time isn’t passing there," he said, echoing Kathryn’s earlier statement.

"Because," she said softly, "The longer you stay here with him, the harder it will be for you to leave him. Your ship needs you, Captain."

He closed his eyes and nodded. When he looked up, his eyes were clear and flinty, all trace of tears banished. Commander Chakotay knew himself and knew that it was taking all the other man’s strength to hold himself together. He shifted Kolopak into the crook of his left arm and offered his right hand. After a moment, his counterpart grasped it firmly. When Commander Chakotay spoke, it was in the language of their people.

"I swear to you, Brother, that I will raise your child in my home, as my son, and I will protect him with my life if necessary. He will grow into a man you would be proud of."

The other man was silent for a long time, but there was profound gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Brother," he finally answered, in kind. "He will grow into a fine man in your care."

With one last kiss to the baby’s tiny, fisted hand, he turned his back on them all.

When the flash of light came and went and he found himself staring around his badly damaged ready room, he fell to his knees with a hoarse cry. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed out his grief for several long minutes. When he composed himself he looked up to find Q apparently studying the wreckage of the desk intently.

"Q, you have to do something for me!"

Q looked up, shocked. "I just did! Consider that your dying wish!"

"Please! I need them to know who my son is! You have to tell them everything you can about Paka!" When Q didn’t respond, he said, "Please! Do it for Kathryn!" Q nodded curtly and Chakotay sighed in relief.

"I know it doesn’t mean much to you, Q, but you have my everlasting gratitude. My son will live, my family will continue, because of you, and I am in your debt forevermore."

Q, uncomfortable with the intensity of the man’s emotions, simply nodded again. "Yes, well… I have to show you how we’re going to fool your crew. Not that it’s that hard."

He snapped his fingers, and Chakotay was suddenly holding… Paka, wrapped in a blanket. He cried out, nearly dropping the baby, and stared up at Q, eyes wild. "What the hell?!"

Q rolled his eyes. "It’s not real!"

"What do you mean he’s not real? He’s warm! He’s breathing!"

Q sighed exasperatedly. "Of course it is… how will it fool your crew otherwise? I promise you, it’s not real. It’s not alive. Think of it as a machine."

"Take him away… I can’t do this!"

Q snapped his fingers again, and the child changed in Chakotay’s arms. The skin became cold and hard, artificial—though it still looked incredibly real—and there was no longer any movement from it. It was clear now that it wasn’t a real child, but it still horrified Chakotay. He held the doll with trembling hands, wrapping it tightly in the blanket.

Q said, in an almost soothing voice, "He’s safe, Chakotay. He’s not here. That’s not him. It’s not real."

"What do I do?"

"Just tell them you sedated him so he won’t be awake. They’ll be too busy worrying about themselves to think too much about him." Chakotay nodded mutely, and Q said, "Then I’m done here. You have half an hour until your little meeting, Chakotay." Before Chakotay could respond, Q snapped his fingers and was gone.

Chakotay put down the blanket-wrapped bundle he was holding and scrambled as far away from it as he could. He knelt again, shakily, staring at the stars, trying to force himself to meditate and pray, in order to steel himself for his final act.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Voyager’s captain trudged toward the half-open doors of the mess hall, carrying his "son" tightly bundled in a blanket in the chest carrier Tom had given him—with trembling hands and tearful eyes—shortly after the first attack. All that was visible was the tiny face peering out through the folds of the blanket, eyes shut, lips slightly parted. He had wept while he was arranging the doll against his body, the memory of his son’s warm weight throbbing in him like a festering wound.

He stepped into the silent room, and his eyes swept over the huddled groups of people, his heart aching at the ragtag appearance of his valorous crew. He caught Tom’s eye, and the younger man made his way over to Chakotay.

"Captain," he intoned, and then he peered down at the baby. "He’s awfully quiet."

"I sedated him," Chakotay said roughly, and Tom’s eyes widened. "Do you think I want him awake and aware when all of this goes down?" Seeing that the younger man was about to say something, he went on. "Don’t worry, I’m giving everyone that option. Including you. Why do you think I ordered you to gather all the sedatives you could find?" Tom nodded, and Chakotay turned to the group at large.

"Listen up, people!" he barked, and they all snapped to attention. He felt a rush of enormous, heart-breaking pride, and he took a deep breath.

"As I’m sure you’ve all heard by now, there is a Draylin fleet heading for our coordinates. I know that you are all ready and willing to fight them to the death, but Voyager is losing life support, and it is likely that we’ll all be dead by the time they get here."

There was no response, so he kept going. "I know that this is bleak news. We cannot allow the Draylin to gain control of this ship. We have no option but to destroy her. Under other circumstances, I’d authorize the launch of the escape pods, but they wouldn’t get far enough away from the ship in the time remaining, and you all know what happened when we tested that theory."

There were nods and shudders all around. As a test, they had launched one of the pods during the last battle—it had been empty, and it wasn’t as if the remaining crew would possibly need all the escape pods. The Draylin had immediately broken off the attack on Voyager and concentrated their fire on the pod. It had been horrifying to watch.

"You have all served Voyager more than commendably; this ship could not have asked for a better crew. I’m sure that if Captain Janeway—" his voice faltered and he had to stop for a moment. "If she were here, she would be telling you the same thing. You are the most remarkable group of people I have ever served with, and I am proud to be your commanding officer. It is beyond lamentable that such an exceptional journey must come to such an unfortunate end."

"We have a couple of hours before the life support situation becomes truly life-threatening, but the longer we wait, the more we risk the chance of the ship falling into enemy hands. The wait would do nothing but remind us of what is to come. Therefore, I will shortly be setting the auto-destruct sequence for a twenty-minute delay."

Chakotay made an effort to look every crewmember in the eye. He saw no disapproval, no fear. What he saw was fierce loyalty, bravery, and the determination not to let the Draylin get their ship. He was again struck by the pride he felt for having commanded these men and women.

"You might be wondering why I asked you to bring all the sedatives you could find. I want you all to know that you have the option to use them. No one will think less of you if you choose to do so. We must all face death now, but each of us has the right to face death in the manner we want."

There was silence as he again swept his gaze over them, and no one looked away. Mike Ayala cleared his throat.

"I don’t know about the others, sir, but for seven years I have lived for this ship and fought for this ship. I intend to die for this ship, not alone in some corner. Permission to return to my duty station, Captain!"

His strong proclamation was followed by a resounding chorus of "Sir, me too, sir!"

Chakotay nodded, momentarily robbed of speech. "Very well. You have twenty minutes. I am turning off the countdown. I don’t think any of us wants to know to the second when it will end. Return to your stations! Dismissed!"

With a loud chorus of "Aye, sir!" they dispersed through the mess hall doors, heading for the stations they had faithfully manned for years.

Tom lingered, and Chakotay finally turned to him. "To your station, Mr. Paris."

"Chakotay, are you sure? I can…"

"I’ll set it from here, Tom. I’ll join you in a moment. Get to the bridge."

"Aye, sir," he responded crisply, heading for the nearest Jeffries tube.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

When Chakotay emerged onto the bridge about five minutes later, it was empty save for Ayala at Tactical and Tom at Helm.

"Mr. Paris?" he asked, glancing at the first officer’s chair.

"This is my place, sir."

"Understood."

"Sir…?"

Chakotay immediately understood in that one simple word what Tom was asking.

"It’s done," he said, and Tom nodded wearily. "About fifteen minutes."

Chakotay glanced at the ready room doors but decided to remain on the bridge. As Tom had said, it was his place. He looked briefly at the captain’s chair… Kathryn’s chair. With a sigh, he sat in his own chair, the one he had occupied at her side. He saw Tom half-turn and nod approvingly.

His gaze swept the nearly obliterated bridge, lingering on the places where he knew there were lovingly applied patches and fixes, now obscured and covered with rubble. Voyager was a proud ship, and she would go out defiantly, not picked to pieces on some alien scrapheap.

"Thank you, Voyager," he murmured, "For everything."

"Hear, hear!" Tom muttered, and Aya grunted in agreement.

Absolute silence fell again, without the comforting hum of the engines, or the steady background chatter of the ship at work. In the quiet, Chakotay stared at the blank viewscreen, hearing echoes of years past. They were deafening.

His eye fell on Tom’s tousled blond head, and he thought of how the younger man had changed in seven years. He heard the sarcastic, sullen responses of Tom’s early days, and the welcome, laughing wit of the later years. With sorrow, he heard again the dull, unemotional responses of the last few weeks.

He heard the quick, flippant banter between Helm and Ops, felt the earnest devotion of the man who had stood at the latter for so long. Harry had grown so much on Voyager. He had gone from a nervous young man to a determined officer who had stayed at his board even as it was arcing and sparking, knowing death was near and yet giving Voyager the precious extra seconds she needed to survive.

Chakotay’s attention was drawn to the dark, destroyed Engineering station, and he closed his eyes. B’Ela. His snarling, angry little sister, who had worked miracles repeatedly on every ship she had ever touched. A hurt, isolated woman who had blossomed into one of the most loving wives and mothers he had ever known.

He swore to himself that he could hear Tom and B’Ela’s laughter at Harry, and Tuvok’s cool, unemotional reply, the wry humor that came through in the Vulcan’s most relaxed moments. He remembered briefly Tuvok’s silent stoicism and support after Kathryn’s death, but he pushed those thoughts away.

He could almost perceive the arguments drifting out of the open briefing room doors. Seven, holding forth on the most efficient course of action, no matter what the cost. The Doctor, demanding the right to be heard at the beginning of the journey, rightfully assuming his place as an equal at the end. Neelix, trying to calm everybody down, offering knowledge of their surroundings that no one else in the crew possessed. Kes’ soft, soothing voice, which had the ability to pacify even the Doctor.

Chakotay looked down at the detestable facsimile of his son, and he was assaulted by a cacophony of much smaller voices. Naomi’s helpful, happy tone, countered by Mezoti’s crisp monotone. The deep intonations of Miral singing to her baby brother TJ. Jake Baytart and Cammy Rollins arguing briefly over a toy. So many little voices… so much laughter, and thankfully, very few tears. With a dull, hot ache he recalled the husky sound of his own son’s laugh.

All through the maelstrom of voices whirling in his mind, one pulsed, steady as a heartbeat, his anchor to all that made him the man he was. Kathryn’s voice, soft with laughter, raised in anger, shot through with the steel of command. His eyes closed as the pulse became the throbbing pitch of desire that he had only ever heard while lying in her arms, loving her with his body and his heart and his soul. The pain of losing her battered at him all over again, and he hissed and threw his head back, willing the minutes to go faster.

The ghastly image of Kathryn’s broken body floated back to him, and with a stifled cry, he shoved it away, forcing into his mind his favorite picture of her. She was flushed and sweaty and exhausted, grinning in triumph at him as she held their son to her for the first time. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, holding onto that image with all of his spirit.

An ominous rumble began, and Aya moaned softly. Over the roaring of the blood in his veins, Chakotay heard Tom mutter, "Oh, B’E, tell the kids Daddy’s coming!"

The ship began to shake and there was the earsplitting sound of tortured metal as Voyager began to tear herself apart in her death throes. Chakotay gripped the arms of his chair as the rumble grew louder, and said resolutely, "Soon, my Kathryn."

There was a thunderous crack, a blinding red light that pierced straight through his eyelids, and an instant of searing pain.