CHAPTER SIX

There was an uncommon quiet on the bridge that had not been there at least eighteen hours ago. Tuvok had ordered Ayala and Harry to maintain continuous scans of the region and to be on high alert for a temporal shift which, by his calculation, should happen in the next ten minutes. His data projected that the eighteen hour window given the away team to complete their mission was about to close.

A shroud of silence and introspection had fallen over the ship since the away team had left. Tuvok attributed the nervous fluttering the others experienced to their fear that they would not be in time to save the captain. Very few slept; like him, when he had gone off duty for a few hours of respite and spent it in deep meditation, they had found expression in their own ways of intercession and reflection. Since the time Voyager had to leave the command team behind on New Earth, he had not experienced such a collective sadness among the crew as was evident now.

Tom Paris made no attempt to annoy him. Not that he was bothered by the helmsman's occasional taunts, but they were missed. Through generations of extreme discipline and purging, he was immured against feeling the deep emotions that the others felt. It didn't mean that he didn't have them, as he had himself declared to the captain long ago. Yet he had to admit that Paris's taunts and wise-cracks were missed, more because it manifested a particular joylessness within Mr Paris. And that, Tuvok decided, was abnormal.

Harry Kim, thrown into his own state of melancholy, could reflect without being disturbed by Tom. The ensign appeared to him as he had years ago when the captain and first officer were stranded on New Earth. Kim had openly challenged his authority then because he was emotionally overwrought that the new command did not act or do enough to rescue the captain and Commander Chakotay. Harry Kim had looked close to tears that day. He supposed that the human predilection for tears, especially among the young and outraged, was normal. At this moment Harry Kim looked like he could weep. Out of the corner of his eye he could see him frown, in a desperate attempt not to break down. They had only minutes before the time was up, and the away team would return only an hour later. Time, as the doctor said, was of the essence.

If they did not feel the temporal shift, then they would not have succeeded in their mission. He was certain that a shift would redress the imbalance that existed. The captain would then be restored to her correct timeline. That was the fact. No crewmember, not even the senior officers, except Tom Paris, were allowed in the holodeck where the hologram of the captain lay. He concurred with the doctor that such a measure was justified, in deference to the dignity of their captain. No one should see her in that state.

Yes, since the previous day the ship had been quiet. Seven of Nine and Icheb had been forced by the doctor to regenerate, even if it were only for a minimum length of time. They were as compelled as everyone else by the need to remain awake until the captain came back to life. They loved the captain so much that her health and well-being were of the utmost importance to them too.

"Four minutes to go, Commander Tuvok," said Ayala, who was at Tactical. "I detect no abnormality in a radius of one light-year."

"The shift will happen."

"How can you be so sure?" Ayala sounded worried.

"I know that Commander Chakotay will leave no stone unturned to rescue Captain Janeway."

No one challenged him on that.

Tuvok rose from the command chair and stood behind James Hamilton who was piloting. The darkness offered nothing except to enshroud them in its gloom. He did not want to entertain any idea of failure, although that might be a possibility. He had faith in the away team, that they would return to Voyager and that by by then Captain Janeway herself would be waiting for them.

During his meditation, some intrusive thoughts had twice broken his concentration. No one had as yet mentioned or asked why the captain's life had been threatened in the way that it was. They'd discovered "that" the timeline had been polluted, they'd discovered "how" the timeline had been polluted, and what measures had to be taken to restore it. However, there was no reason "why" it had been corrupted. Even if the "why" was rooted in accident, that would be a reason. He believed that the events had been no accident, and that Braxton knew something the crew of Voyager didn't. Then too, if he had any information, he would be bound by the Temporal Prime Directive not to divulge any of it.

Captain Janeway deserved to know why it had happened.

The turbolift doors opened and he turned to see Neelix stomping down the ramp to stand before him.

"Commander, it's almost time. What if the shift doesn't happen? What if we cannot get our captain back? What if the away team can't get back to us? We have only a few seconds, at the most, Commander."

Neelix was practically hopping from one foot to the other, wringing his hands in panic and flaring his nostrils, almost hyperventilating. Neelix had a tendency to hyperventilate under extreme anxiety, but the way he pranced about made Tuvok think Tom Paris was probably right in calling Neelix "Rumpelstiltskin", whoever that was.

"Mr Neelix, the captain would be the first person to tell you to have faith."

"But - but Commander! She cannot stay a hologramm forever! We need her to fulfil our lives, for that is what she has done for us. I feel empty...right here," Neelix palpitated, banging his fist against his chest.

"Mr Neelix - "

"Commander." It was Ayala and Harry who called simultaneously. He swung round to face Ayala, who nodded to him. Tuvok turned to face the black expanse and closed his eyes.

Soft, and swift, so quick that it could hardly have been a whisper, he felt something move through him. The ship jolted slightly, then settled into her even rhythm again.

The way his body changed, he concurred that Neelix was right. They had been empty, and were filling up again with the captain's goodness. He opened his eyes. Neelix stood with an open mouth, as if a deity had given him the light of everlasting life.

The Talaxian gave a cry, his eyes wide as saucers. "Commander!" he cried as he threw his arms round Tuvok. Tuvok, thrown off balance by Neelix's hug, pressed him back,

"Control yourself, Rumpelstiltskin."

"I am alive!"

The next moment, Neelix promptly fainted.

***********************

The darkness, the heavy black swathe of cloud billows which had imprisoned her for so long, began to dissipate. At first, it might have been her imagination; the light she saw through closed eyes, a mere flicker, a trick of the shadows to guard her jealously and keep her entrapped.

The infinitesimal message that her eyes remained true to what she sensed, slowly, gradually filled her body. She felt indescribably tired, as if she had been on a very long and arduous journey which must have lasted hundreds of years, that's how it felt. Is that why the darkness had kept her within its confines so long? She had no idea of where she was, or where she had been or even when she had been. She had no idea that she had been anywhere; awareness of space and time remained muted. A sense of placement and displacement alternated hazily as reality and illusion, as if she had gone from herself only to find herself.

It pressed on her eyelids, great boulders that forced her to keep them closed, yet she knew she was aware that mind, body and soul had somehow aligned and balanced. On that sliver of awareness came the second - if she felt balanced and aligned, what reality was that, and what was she before that? Memory remained, inasmuch as she was only aware of senses that existed. Sight, yet unable to open her eyes. Touch, two fingers pressing together, annotating a familiarity. Taste, a dryness in her mouth, her tongue lazy to move and then the sound. Sound? Her aural senses picked up the thin thrilling pricks of sound, yet there was no sound. Where was yesterday and when was yesterday?

Painfully slowly, the vessel which was her body filled with its sights and sounds and tastes, her lifeblood coursing through her veins and arteries, lighting up every nerve and every cell and activating every vital organ so that she could experience the beating of her heart, the quickening of her pulses as realisation dawned that she was alive. The boulder that pressed down on her became lighter, dissolving as it broke up into smaller particles and those particles drifted away until they finally faded out of existence.

There was no pain, of that she was sure. But there had been pain before she left on her journey, wherever that was. That unknown realm remained fuzzy, but people started to fill it. Faces that were at first just blurs with only outlines that suggested a vague resemblance, but teasingly kept just outside her grasp.

Her heart was beating; she was breathing.

She opened her eyes. Impersonal walls of grey and yellow lines, monitors that flashed; those registered in her peripheral sight. She turned her head. A balding man dressed in a blue uniform, a wide smile and eyes in which there was relief. Her hand reached for him instinctively.

"Welcome home, Captain."

"Doctor?"

"Captain Janeway, it's good to have you restored," he said as he lifted her to a sitting position.

"What happened, Doctor? I vaguely remember feeling displaced and in great pain. It was after..." She frowned, tried to think. "The two second temporal shift. I began to feel off balance, a little sick, dizzy. Then everything went black. That was on the bridge..."

"Yes, Captain. You collapsed on the bridge - "

"Why am I in the holodeck?"

"It's a long story. Keep still," the doctor ordered as she moved her head to look about her. The hypospray against her neck was cold. A short, instantaneous burst and she felt much better.

"Captain!" Tom Paris crowed as he entered the holodeck and strode to her side. "How are you feeling?"

"She's feeling better, Mr Paris. Now I need to run a few more tests - "

"Do you still feel displaced, Captain? What do you remember?"

"If you two can allow me to think, I might be able to tell you. Now, Doctor, from the top. I want to know everything."

She looked at each one in turn. Their eyes were bright and their smiles expansive.

"Captain, that you are here with us, and I can finally read on the monitor that you are real, is a miracle."

"When was I not real?" she asked, confused. She remembered that she had been confused most of the time on the bridge after the temporal surge.

Tom Paris gave a cough. "Well, we created a hologram of you, because your body had dissipated completely."

"And only your last remaining synapses were rescued and masked so that we didn't lose Voyager - "

"After which we brought you here, to the holodeck."

"Gentlemen!"

Both men stopped dead in the onslaught of information that tumbled from them. She felt close to tears and very close to a headache, although her tiredness had receded. She slid off the bed.

The doctor turned to Tom.

"Mr Paris, perhaps you should leave me with the Captain. She is right. We are distressing her more than we're helping."

Paris looked so doleful that she was tempted to let him stay, but she knew that the Doctor would be the best person in the circumstances to apprise her of the events that had caused her collapse.

"Tom..."

"Understood." Tom walked to the holodeck door, and the last they heard was, "Paris to the bridge..."

She rubbed her forehead, then decided to lie back on the biobed. It would be a good idea to close her eyes and drift off somewhere. She opened them again when the doctor tapped her gently. He was smiling. Sitting up, she was surprised to see that the holodeck grid had made way for a lounge with wide windows, a large comfy couch on which she lay snug, an easy chair and other soft furnishings. There was a huge hearth, with photos on the mantelpiece. In the corner stood a piano, a baby grand. Phoebe was the one who played. Phoebe...?

"Our lounge on the farm in Indiana," she whispered as the doctor sat down in the easy chair.

"Courtesy of Mr Paris. He said he visited there once or twice."

"Our parents are friends..."

"That's what he said."

A short pause. Then,

"Doctor..."

"Captain, Commander Chakotay, Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore went on an away mission to rescue you."

"That sounds like a paradox."

"Indeed, it is."

"Chakotay...where is he now?"

"We're still waiting for their return, Captain. May I ask what you can remember before everything went dark?"

What more was there to say than she had said already? The doctor sounded too cryptic. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. His eyes were filled with compassion, sadness...? A sudden vision of a white dove hovering in the air. An eagle...yet the dove did not fly away in fear. She shook her head. Tried to think. What could she remember? Lying on a biobed. Voices. Chakotay's voice. Chakotay had been with her -

"Commander Chakotay was with me. I couldn't remember important dates, like we were supposed to be married..." she frowned as she raised herself to a sitting position and drew her feet under her, "yesterday."

"That is correct, Captain. What else?"

She tried to picture Chakotay's face. His distress showed in the way he clutched her hand, his eyes tried to comfort. Greater dread as he started drifting like a bubble away from her. She didn't want him to leave. He moved further and further from her. Or did she move away? She couldn't think why it happened, only that she felt...

"I was afraid, Doctor. I have never in my life been so afraid, and I couldn't understand why...I was afraid..."

"Yes, that is it. Moments after that, you were gone completely. Now, Captain, I'm going to tell you something of what transpired in the first hours after your collapse. Feel free to interrupt, anything."

"You sound very serious, Doctor."

"Trust me. It was extraordinarily severe. Had you just died on the table, I could have revived you, done anything, searched through all the medical procedures of every quadrant to revive you. I've done it before on this ship, with many crewmen. Granted, I couldn't save a certain crewman's life, and I've made my peace with that. But what happened to you, Captain, I was powerless to prevent."

"You couldn't prevent my dying?" A sharp stab in her bosom. She stifled a cry. "I...died?"

"In a manner of speaking. After the temporal shift, you were brought to sickbay. Your vital organs didn't just collapse, they disintegrated. The lungs first, and as fast I replicated a new pair of lungs, they too started disappearing. Before our eyes your whole body began to disappear. I had already salvaged your remaining synapses." She knew that the doctor would soon help her out of her confusion, so she just nodded that he should continue. "And because of that, we could create a hologram of you here in the holodeck."

"A - A hologram?" she stammered, genuinelly surprised. She remembered Danara Pel.

"Which we kept in a kind of stasis. You spent almost twenty hours on the biobed as a hologram, Captain. It was the only way we could keep you." The doctor bit his lip, looked distractedly away, then faced her again. "The rate of degradation of your remaining synapses gave us eighteen hours from the commencement of the holographic activation. You woke up with a few seconds to spare. We..."

"I would have been lost forever..."

"Yes..."

"I can think of only one reason why my body would dissolve in increments," she said reflectively. "Somewhere in my timeline there was a disturbance."

This time he looked surprised, though there was no smile. His mouth was drawn, like someone tired of life with no prospects of ever finding light.

"You know?"

"It's the only possible explanation. But why are we still on Voyager?"

"Because I could mask your remaining synapses and keep Voyager within your own timeline."

"Time paradoxes - "

"I know. It gives you a headache."

"How did you find out where to start?"

"Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Paris researched your family history and genealogy. Commander Chakotay had data that you had apparently asked him to copy to his private computer in his office." She nodded, but frowned, wondering how a divergence could occur. "He believed that it remained pure because he had done the downloads himself..." The doctor answered her unspoken thought. "Lieutenant Paris searched through Voyager's database and that is where he found the discrepancies."

"So where was the point of origin?"

"Who is Kathleen O'Clair?" he countered. That made her jerk up straight. She groaned as her head protested from the quick movement.

"A forebear of mine, born in Ireland."

"Captain, then you will know that Kathleen O'Clair left Ireland on the 10th May 1899, boarded the Britannic in Liverpool and sailed for the New World."

"America..." she whispered as a strange feeling overwhelmed her. Had she had dreams in her holographic state? She shook her head, feeling the onset of breathlessness. Taking deep breaths, she steadied herself. The doctor watched her closely, then sagged with relief when she felt better again. "She married Edward Adam Janeway.... The Janeways go further back, to Edward's great-great grandfather who gave him a microscope that is still in our possession. In fact it's in my ready room. That's where our present line started. Is that where the link was broken?" she asked, feeling inexplicably sad.

"Aye, Captain, according to the records on Mr Chakotay's computer. Somehow, that information remained untainted. According to Mr Paris, Kathleen O'Clair didn't even make it to Liverpool on that day. She married a widower, but thirteen years later in 1912, she left him and ran off to seek a new life. She was on the Titanic..."

"The Titanic... Her timeline either ended or veered in a different direction, as well as that of Edward Janeway..."

"Her name was on the list of those who died. Also, in your own distorted line, Edward Janeway fathered boys. You and Phoebe were the daughters of his brother Matthew Janeway - "

"Phoebe!"

"Aye. We made contact with Starfleet who confirmed Phoebe's death, as well as that of her three month old baby..."

"Oh, my God..."

"We knew we had to act, and quickly, before we lost you forever..."

"The away team?"

"Went to make sure Kathleen O'Clair made it to Dublin like she was supposed to and from there to Liverpool. They ensured that she boarded the Britannic where she would meet and fall in love with Captain Edward Janeway."

Kathryn closed her eyes. Her whole body shivered. She must still be tired, else how could she feel so listless, so in need of sleep? The information was too much, perhaps too soon. She should have waited. The white dove slowly descended, tired wings flapped listlessly as she tried to remain airborne. Kathryn saw the doctor through a blur. Was she in tears? Did her headache increase? There was a soft hiss against her neck; her body sagged against the doctor before he pressed her gently to lie down on the couch.

"You are exhausted, Captain. Sleep for a while. The away team should report in about 30 minutes."

"Tell me...how did they get to the past...?"

"Sleep, Captain. It will all be explained once you are rested."

"Thank you, Doctor," she slurred. "Kathleen O'Clair...was a remarkable woman..."

*************************

Braxton's ship dropped out of warp so suddenly that he caught the bridge officers unawares. Tuvok was instantly on his feet, waving a hand in Harry's direction without looking behind him. Braxton's face appeared on the screen and he looked worried.

"Commander Chakotay needs urgent medical attention. I've kept his body in stasis for two hours since I don't have a medical bay on my ship. It's not designed for extensive medical procedures."

"Bridge to Sickbay."

"What can I do for you, Commander?" the doctor asked.

"Beam Commander Chakotay to sickbay."

Tuvok closed communication and waited for Braxton to speak again.

"Thank you. Lieutenant Rollins and Crewman Gilmore have also beamed over to your sickbay. I will remain with you as I wish to speak with the doctor."

"I trust the mission was successful, Captain Braxton."

"Oh yes. Didn't you feel the shift? Ah, you wish for detail. Yes, they accompanied Kathleen O'Clair and Thomas Kiernan all the way from Dublin to Liverpool and waited until contact was made."

"Thank you, Captain. The crew will be happy to hear this. We can tell you that the Captain has been restored, and that she is resting."

Braxton smiled, then suddenly the screen went blank again.

"He never said how Commander Chakotay had been injured. Now we have to wait..." Ayala murmured.

"He could have told us. We deserve to know, don't we?" said Harry.

"Maybe he was attacked - "

"Of course he must have been attacked," said Lieutenant Pensal, who was at the science station. "How else could he be badly injured?"

"Could it be that even at the last moment someone tried to keep the girl from sailing away?" James Hamilton mused aloud.

"Mr Hamilton, that may be the closest reason for why Mr Chakotay has been injured. But rest assured that we shall be informed as soon as Mr Paris is ready to report on his progress."

"Thank you, Commander."

A second later his commbadge beeped.

"Torres to Commander Tuvok."

"Bridge here."

"I am happy to report that I've received a communiqué from Starfleet. Phoebe Janeway-Kente has been restored, as well as her three month old baby daughter. They commend us on our successful mission."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Tuvok out."

Tuvok sat down in the chair again. It was good to know that everything was falling into its proper balance again. Commander Chakotay would be happy to know that the Captain's sister and baby daughter were well. He had not slept for more than twenty four hours and he would remain awake until he was assured that the Captain and Commander Chakotay had recovered properly from their ordeal. He would remain on the bridge until such time as either Commander Chakotay or Captain Janeway assumed duty. Mr Neelix, when he exclaimed so vociferously about being alive, echoed the sentiments of the rest of the crew. Many had shared with him or with their friends about how empty they felt that everything Captain Janeway had meant in their lives was wiped out when she ceased to exist. It stood to reason. If she vanished, even their destinies might have changed.

He, too, felt whole again.

*************************

Kathryn awoke with a jerk. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Only, she didn't know what it was. Her heart raced in painful breathlessness again. She sat up on the couch, running her hands through her hair. She felt dizzy, and when she tried to stand up, fell back again. Waiting only a minute to breathe evenly she got up, this time able to stand up straight. She hit her commbadge and realised that it wasn't pinned to her.

"Computer, what time is it?" she asked as she moved as fast as she could to the holodeck doors.

"Fifteen hundred hours."

"Computer, locate Commander Chakotay."

"Commander Chakotay is in sickbay."

She cried out in pain and slumped to the floor. Rising to her feet she opened the doors of the holodeck. The whoosh of air in the corridor revived her somewhat, but the erratic thudding of her heart against her ribcage kept relentless marking a pendulum out of rhythm. She walked to the first turbolift that could carry her to deck five. The corridor was mercifully empty and so was the turbolift when she entered. She had no wish to meet with any crewmember right away. Chakotay was in sickbay, most likely injured. Or it could be Rollins or Gilmore.

"Computer, state Commander Chakotay's condition."

"Commander Chakotay has stopped breathing."

"Oh, God..." she whispered as she hurried down the corridor towards sickbay.

Doctor, you said you could revive anyone.

She was breathing hard as she entered sickbay, seeing the commotion around the main biobed instantly.

"Chakotay!"

"Captain," Marla Gilmore cried as she swung round. Marla's eyes were red from tears shed. "We tried, Captain. We barely made it to Captain Braxton's ship. So much courage..."

Marla was dressed in the fashion of the late 19th century, so was Magnus and so was...Chakotay. Marla's dress was also spattered with blood.

The doctor glanced up as he noticed her.

"We'll get him back, Captain, don't worry. The knife shredded his heart, and one of his kidneys was severed. Mr Paris, get the others out of here. Yes, Mr Neelix, you too. You've recovered from your fainting spell an hour ago."

She wanted to cry. Her body must have picked up Chakotay's distress the moment he was beamed to Voyager. He looked weak, but was breathing now. Tom quietly shooed everyone out of sickbay.

"You can report to the Captain when she's ready, and not before that, okay?" she heard him say as they proceeded to leave. They were the last persons with Chakotay, had probably been with him when he was felled.

"Wait! Magnus..." she called as the others were leaving. Magnus turned and walked back to her. His eyes looked sunken and he appeared deadly tired. He also looked like he didn't want to rest. "How was he injured?"

"We were watching Kathleen as she stepped on the deck of the Britannic. I guess we didn't notice until it was too late. A man stabbed him from behind. It happened so quickly."

"Braxton?"

"Captain Braxton's quick thinking saved his life," Rollins said. "He has only emergency medical supplies chiefly because he makes time jumps in a matter of minutes or a few hours. The ship does have several stasis chambers; at this point I cannot tell you what the purpose is, except that it saved Commander Chakotay's life

"Thank you, Magnus," she said gratefully, watching him leave. When the sickbay doors closed behind him, Kathryn turned her attention to Chakotay.

Tom had pulled up a chair and she sank into it. Chakotay looked pale and she thought how only the day before she had lain on the same biobed.

Kathryn held Chakotay's hand in hers. His shirt and undershirt had been removed and lay in a heap on the floor. She thought absently that one of the crewmen assigned to sickbay would put it in the recycler. The blue hospital issue gown contrasted sharply with his pallid features. She touched his tattoo, held her fingers there for a brief moment before removing her hand again. She had been so totally afraid yesterday. It was almost an irrational fear as she saw him recede. She hadn't wanted to lose him, and that fear overrode the other, that she might be dying and didn't know why.

She had loved him for so long. Her reticence to reveal her feelings had been based mostly on the fact that their friendship was an extraordinary one. She would die for him, would lay down her life for him, just as he would do for her. Theirs had been a rollercoaster ride for eight years, full of ups and downs, the downs so gut-swallowing painful that only her supreme faith in their friendship could withstand them. The many highs could be counted in their joint ventures, their collective joy in a successful mission, of dancing together on Valentine's Day as the crew desired, of opening the New Year celebrations with a thoughtful reflection on their achievements, remembering those who had died in the line of duty, commending crewmen for meritorious service. Then they had laughed together, toasting in the new year with great hope that they were another year closer to home. Always home, the final destination. She sighed. The downs included Seven of Nine's resurgence into his life, the knowledge, the fear that Chakotay would leave her and choose the austere former Borg.

How could they know she had seen Seven of Nine leaving his quarters that night, a year ago? She hadn't wanted to say anything, but Chakotay's hand covering hers on the bridge early the following morning, his inimitable dimpled smile she knew he reserved only for her...the assurance of that smile...had made her heart soar with hope again. She had known then that whatever happened that night, Chakotay had done what he thought was best for him and for Seven of Nine.

A week ago when she had looked up at him and told him "I love you", it had been simply a continuation of her thoughts, of coming to a quiet resolve that she wanted to make history with this man. She wanted him by her side forever, as her moral compass, her challenger, her lover, her beloved. She had no regrets about wasted years, because those years were not wasted. They were spent celebrating friendship first; now that friendship would be cemented by a unique union.

"Captain, I've completed the procedure," the doctor's voice intruded on her thoughts. "Commander Chakotay is fine now. I can wake him - "

"No... Don't wake him. Transport us to the holodeck. I think Commander Chakotay will appreciate waking up in a furnished room..."

"Captain Braxton is still with us, Captain. He has asked to see me once Commander Chakotay has been treated.

They were transported to the holodeck, with Chakotay lying on the couch. She smiled inwardly; he was sleeping peacefully. Covered by a replicated mohair rug he lay snug while she seated herself on the easy chair the doctor had sat in earlier. It pleased her to watch him while he lay sleeping. The fear of yesterday that she was going to lose him forever slowly receded. She lay back against the soft headrest, thinking about the many questions she wanted to ask him about Ireland, his impressions of the place, and most importantly, about Kathleen O'Clair. Once she had told him a little of Kathleen, when they were still on New Earth, and she remembered saying that the Janeway women were remarkable women. Kathleen was no exception. Chakotay, Magnus and Marla had seen this woman close up and she felt a great envy that they could meet Kathleen and protect her at the same time.

She was still tired, so she closed her eyes. Just a short nap, she thought as she drifted away into sleep...

**************************

Kevin Braxton looked at the remaining occupied stasis chamber, touching the glass panel through which he could see the face of Michael Sullivan. The moment the away team had hailed him, he had known there was something wrong. The connection had been made already, as his data showed, and everything in the universe of the Alpha Quadrant and the Unified Federation of Worlds which comprised the entire Alpha Quadrant fell into place again. The world, in a manner of speaking, had righted itself on its axis.

Michael Sullivan was beamed on board his ship the second after the away team was beamed up. He stood on the floor panel and with a look of total surprise on his face which registered only briefly before Braxton applied the hypospray and disabled him. Then he had ordered Magnus Rollins to help him place Commander Chakotay in the stasis chamber first.

"But he is injured, Captain!" Marla Gilmore shouted in outrage. "Is there nothing you can do for him?" The young woman had been in tears and Rollins looked ready to beat him to a pulp. What was it with these Voyager officers?

"Don't worry. This is actually helping him. In this state his injuries are arrested, and he'll be in better hands once he's on Voyager."

They had seemed to calm down, although they couldn't quite accept Michael Sullivan's prone form.

"What are you going to do with him?" Rollins had asked, a not unreasonable question. The villain had single-handedly polluted an important timeline.

"Stasis, like the Commander. Come on, help me get him into a chamber."

"But, Captain, can you take him with you? To the 29th century?" Rollins asked again.

"Don't worry. We'll send him back. Now, no questions. Please take your seats."

"But, why take him to your time? He's just a common criminal..."

"Mr Rollins, ask yourself why Michael Sullivan came back to finish his job. If he couldn't get Kathleen O'Clair, why target Commander Chakotay and not you, who beat Sullivan up in the first place? You can ponder on that thought the next two hours."

The two had been reluctant to secure themselves in their seats. Marla's dress was bloodied, and so was the shirt Rollins wore. But his words had subdued them, and he knew they were turning over events in their minds, trying to arrive at solutions. More he couldn't tell them. He had to see the doctor. In Voyager's continuum, almost two hours later, he was relieved to beam Rollins and Gilmore to Voyager's sickbay.

Now he was ready to beam over too. There was a man he had to see. The EMH had not been particularly gracious to him, but he had been over-taxed, over tired and angry at the time. It was a good thing too that the EMH had wiped the floor with him. It brought him sharply back into focus and the urgency of restoring the Captain's timeline. His people would be glad. His mission was successful.

He looked at the comatose Michael Sullivan and shook his head.

"We had a hard time finding you. If it hadn't been for Voyager's resident Borg, it would have taken longer..." he murmured to the catatonic Sullivan. "We'll deal with you. You wait here," he said with a low chuckle. "I'm off to see the doctor."

The next second he was in sickbay.

"Well, Doctor, I've requested to see you. I hope we're secure here."

"We are. The crewman with a cough and a sneeze will have to wait."

"Good. I have no hard feelings over your drubbing of me yesterday, Doctor."

"I'm happy to hear that. I was only concerned about the Captain's recovery and her continued command of this vessel."

"That is what I want to see you about," he replied as the doctor led him to the small office at the rear of the sickbay. In the office he sat down, facing the EMH who had 'curiosity' written all over his face. He had to give credit to the creator Zimmerman for these holographic interfaces. Now, Zimmerman's work had been improved upon a hundredfold, but the doctor didn't need to hear how holographic interfaces were used in the 29th century, or just how far they'd advanced with that technology. Voyager was a legend. Its command team was a legend. And every young cadet knew what an ego Voyager's legendary doctor had.

"Captain, before you say anything, I must thank you on behalf of everyone on Voyager for your help. We were banking on you to respond to our hails."

"And if I tell you that I was on my way here anyway?" Braxton asked, smiling. The doctor's eyes widened, then pinned him as understanding dawned in them.

"Captain Janeway is far more important than we realised," he said softly.

"Not on her own, Doctor," he said cryptically. "But I need from you a solemn undertaking as the ship's emergency medical holograph and as Chief Medical Officer, in a matter of extreme confidentiality."

"If you're going to tell me something you shouldn't, Braxton, I'd rather you follow your Temporal Prime Directive."

"That is why I can impart the information to you, in the knowledge that you will protect such confidentiality."

"Has it happened that way?" the EMH asked.

"Indeed."

"Then tell me what you want to impart."

"Here's 'why' the timeline was polluted. By the way, you are to be commended for that synapses mask. That was quick thinking." He wasn't going to tell the doctor that they had used and improved on many of his medical breakthroughs.

"Thank you."

"Now, I have on my ship a certain individual who was responsible for the pollution. This was no accident, Doctor. We have been following Michael Sullivan's trail for a while. When Seven of Nine's subspace hail came, I knew instantly where to look and it facilitated my efforts at catching the culprit and restoring matters."

"Why is it so important?"

"Kathryn Janeway and Commander Chakotay will marry tonight, before you enter the orbit of Ankares IV."

"Naturally, I shouldn't ask how you know that."

"It is her continued line that impacts in my time, Doctor."

"I knew it! And only if she marries Commander Chakotay."

"No one else, otherwise her line veers off on a tangent."

"But it's more than that."

"Yes. The Unified Federation of Worlds is at war with the Beta Quadrant. Our only ally is the New Klingon Empire, comprising many more worlds than in your time. The Grand Alliance is formed because they have faith in only one man, and will engage in talks with only that man. He is the President of our Federation. All other treaties that follow are designed to protect the Alpha Quadrant and the NKE."

"But when things go wrong," the doctor continued for him, "by the hand of one Michael Sullivan, the Unified Federation of Worlds is vanquished in war."

"By the NKE, in alliance with the rest of the Beta Quadrant."

"Didn't you just say that the New Klingon Empire wanted to negotiate only with your President in order to stop the war?"

"Who vanished into thin air minutes before the talks. We're at war, Doctor."

"Who is the President of the Federation?" the doctor asked, but Braxton could see the answer already in the EMH's eyes. He just needed confirmation.

"President Edward Adam Janeway. Need I say more?"

The doctor hid his surprise well.

Braxton knew what the next question was going to be.

"How does Sullivan fit in here?"

"He hated the President. The man's daughter rejected him, and with good reason. When he threatened the daughter with her life, the president had him imprisoned. I'll not go into details here, suffice it to say that Sullivan managed to escape and wanted to take revenge. If he couldn't get Kathryn Eileen Janeway, he figured he could erase her entire line, so nobody else would get anything. As a result, we were at war. The situation has now been corrected and thankfully, the President lives, his daughter lives and all is well with the universe. We're very strict with time travel and time criminals, Doctor. Michael Sullivan will be duly punished."

The doctor looked at him with his familiar frown, the severity of the situation too clear in his eyes.

"Captain, you can be assured that these details will not be divulged. But I must tell you that Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay will demand some answers here, and they will know about Michael Sullivan. They'll want to know why."

He scratched his head. He had forgiven Kathryn Janeway for that 1996 mishap. She did look good in the white pants suit with her dashing first officer equally at ease in his casual gear. They made a good couple. A brilliant couple. Even better than her forebear Kathleen Eileen O'Clair with her Edward Janeway, better than Shannon O'Donnell and her Henry Janeway. Feeling tired, Braxton blinked several times. He'd better get out of 2379 before he ceased to exist or, heaven forbid, remained another thirty years in this time. Time travel was giving him a headache. The doctor's eyes were still on him, waiting.

"You can tell them that their union will resonate right into the 29th century, and that's the truth."

"Michael Sullivan?"

"Do you know how many thousands of individuals we have who are in permanent stasis? I can tell you, since the rest of the away team has seen Sullivan, it will come up in their reports. You tell the command team nothing more, Doctor. Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay are both too astute not to make their own deductions."

"True."

"Well, it's been a hell of a ride jumping almost a thousand years into the past to save one woman, Doctor, but it was worth it. Exceedingly worth it. You can tell the commanding officers that from me."

He got up, shook the doctor's hand and, one tap of his commbadge, he was back in the familiar environs of his own ship. He took one last look at Voyager, the legendary plucky little Starfleet vessel. The name 'intrepid' was a fitting name for its class. What could he tell them about their future? That they'd be home in six weeks? No. Let them think they still had twenty two years to go. He sighed and looked at his controls.

"Computer, engage co-ordinates AlphaWarp 05112879."

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END CHAPTER SIX

Chapter 7

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J/C FANFIC