The Price of Destruction

Captain's log, Stardate 54912.6.  

 We've completed our negotiations with the Kartelian delegation. In exchange for providing medical assistance to one of their outer colonies, they've supplied us with enough dilithium to comfortably maintain our present cruising speed for the next several months.

Without sounding premature, Voyager has been in the Delta Quadrant for seven years now. We haven't found many friends out here, but I'm hopeful that our alliance with the Kartelians will withstand the test of time. 

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As the doors to her Ready Room swished open, Captain Janeway stepped out onto the Bridge.

The lighting was subdued, and the familiar hum of the Intrepid-class vessel seemed somehow more pronounced than it did during the day.

The night shift always seemed to bring with it an air of calm — a luxury that her senior staff appeared incapable of maintaining.

Noticing her, Ensign Harry Kim jumped to his feet from his position in the Captain's chair.

"Status report," Janeway ordered as she met him in the centre of the Bridge.

"Nada." Harry lightly shook his head.
"All systems are running within defined parameters, and there's nothing on sensors worth reporting," he clarified.

At his report, Janeway lodged her tongue into her cheek.

"That's it?" she quizzed, waiting for the catch.

"I'm afraid so, Captain," Harry responded as he placed his hands behind his back and clasped them together.

"I could get used to this clean sailing." Janeway's lips twitched into a smile as she looked out at the starfield whizzing by through the viewscreen.

"You know, Captain, every time someone says something like that—" Harry began.

Janeway raised a palm. Under no circumstances was he to finish his sentence.

"Helm, maintain speed and heading for the Alpha Quadrant," she ordered as she turned on her heel and made for the turbolift.

Harry's gaze followed her.

"Goodnight, Ensign," she called out before stopping just short of her destination as the doors swished open.

"I'm extremely envious," she started, pointing towards her command chair.
"But the night shift is yours."

"Goodnight, Captain," Harry smiled in return as he stepped towards the chair yet again.

"Deck two," Janeway ordered the computer as she moved into the turbolift.

And on her command, the doors closed.

* * *  

"Captain," a passing crewman acknowledged her as they passed in opposite directions.

Janeway nodded courteously.

Her mind wandered as it lingered on that particular crewman. She knew of them, of course, but she didn't know them personally. On a night such as tonight, where were they going? What would their evening look like?

Then, she stopped. Her thoughts, without her realising it, had carried her to her quarters. For a moment, she turned her head to look down the corridor she'd just walked along.

Much like the Bridge, it was quiet. Peaceful.

Janeway smiled to herself. No immediate crisis. Nobody demanding her attention for one thing or another. Her mind was already set on how she'd spend this very rare freedom.

She lifted her hand to the control panel by the door and inputted her security code.

As the doors hissed open, she stepped inside.

"Computer, seal the doors," she instructed.

The doors clicked in reply, signifying they'd been locked.

Sighing lightly, she stepped towards the replicator on her right.

"Coffee, black."

Within a matter of seconds, a cup of steaming coffee materialised before her.

Reaching for the cup, she lifted it towards her face. She lowered her head, her nose inches from the brim.

She inhaled.

"The simple pleasures," she whispered to herself before taking a sip and feeding her well-documented caffeine addiction.

"Computer," she began thoughtfully.
"Play Debussy. Clair de Lune."

On command, the sound of a gentle piano filled the room.

Her eyes fixed on the open volume of Jane Eyre that she'd left on her dining table.

Literature. Another guilty pleasure. One she didn't get to indulge in nearly as much as she'd like, but the fact remained — as of that moment, the world was her oyster.

Licking her lips, Janeway savoured every drop of coffee and the delicious opportunity to lose herself in a world of fiction for the evening as she stepped across to the viewport.

Soft orange lights illuminated either side of the windows, complementing the spacious room.

As the stars whizzed by, Janeway nursed her cup as she took that moment to appreciate just how relaxed the view made her feel.

They were heading home, and she was silently grateful that Voyager had been given a chance to breathe.

As she lowered her cup and placed it on the large windowsill, Janeway chuckled to herself. Her conversation with Harry Kim on the Bridge.

Oh, how he'd changed.

Once the eager, wide-eyed, optimistic Ensign. Fresh from Starfleet Academy.

Tonight, an experienced officer whom she'd left in command of her ship. An officer tempered by seven years of experiences neither of them could have imagined when they left Deep Space Nine.

Behind her, a book slammed shut.

Janeway spun around on her heel.

"Something funny, Kathy?" the unwelcome presence quizzed, a sneer spreading across his face as he waved the now-closed book in her direction.

"Depressing little thing, isn't it?" he grinned as he jumped to his feet and tossed the volume at her.

He knew. She was predictable. They all were. She'd call for security. He'd remind her that he was in control. The usual routine.

Janeway lunged forward and grabbed the book before it crashed to the floor.

"Q!" she barked.

He shrugged.

He was clad in the same red command uniform that she was, complete with four captain's pips because, of course, he was.

Q. The galaxy's resident nuisance.

Q. The closest thing the galaxy had to offer in terms of a god.

"You had your chance, Kathy." Q snapped his fingers at her.

Janeway's face hardened. She hated being called that, and he knew it.

"I gave you the chance for us to be together on more than one occasion. Had you taken it, I might have been more forgiving when it came to your tastes..."

He eyed the book.

"But now, everything's fair game."

Janeway rolled her eyes. "Everyone's a critic."

Q stepped closer.

Reaching behind her, Janeway placed the book down on the windowsill beside her coffee.

"What the hell do you want, Q?"

His jaw dropped open.

"After all we've been through. After Junior..."

He waved his hand dismissively.

"He's alright, by the way. Thank you for asking..." Q puffed in feigned agitation.

"After everything, and this is the greeting I get?"

Janeway's expression softened, if only slightly.

"I'm glad your son is doing well."

Q smiled triumphantly. "There. Was that so difficult?"

Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't push your luck. What do you want?"

His face dropped in mock disappointment.

"You sound tense, Madame Captain..." Q trailed off.

Janeway's lips twitched in frustration. Madame Captain had been yet another name he'd managed to weaponise, precisely because she'd asked him to stop.

She wouldn't rise to it.

Not now.

Not tonight.

"I'm fine," she lied, her jaw tightening despite her best efforts to remain composed.

Q's eyebrows rose.
"Fine?"

He studied her for a moment, the amusement gradually disappearing from his face.
"That's the trouble with you, Kathryn. You're always fine."

Janeway stared at him.

There it was.

Kathryn.

Not Kathy. Not Madame Captain.

Her irritation didn't disappear, but something else joined it.

Suspicion.

"You have exactly ten seconds to tell me why you're here."

"Ten seconds?" Q scoffed.
"How generous."

"Nine."

He rolled his eyes. "Perspective."

Janeway's brow furrowed. "Perspective?"

"Very good." 

"On what?"

Q smiled. "You."

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Clair de Lune continued to play softly around them, absurdly peaceful against the tension that had settled over the room.

Janeway folded her arms across her chest.
"I'm not interested in playing games with you tonight."

"And yet you play them every day."

Her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Q wandered towards the viewport, clasping his hands behind his back as he regarded the streaks of stars beyond the glass.
"Captain Kathryn Janeway." He sighed theatrically.
"Explorer. Scientist. Diplomat. Defender of Federation principles..."

He glanced back at her.
"...and when circumstances demand it, judge, jury and executioner."

Janeway's expression hardened.
"I've never claimed every decision I've made out here was the right one."

"No," Q conceded.
"You merely spend an extraordinary amount of time convincing yourself that there is a right one."

Janeway took a step towards him.
"If you've come here to conduct some kind of review of my command decisions—"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself. If I wanted to review seven years of your command decisions, we'd be here until Tuesday."

"Then get to the point."

Q smiled. "I already have."

Janeway's patience finally snapped.

"Computer, security to the Captain's quarters."

Q's grin widened.

Nothing happened.

Janeway tapped her combadge.

"Janeway to security."

Silence.

Her eyes slowly lifted towards him.
"Q..."

"Oh, relax. Your precious ship is perfectly safe."

"What have you done?"

"To Voyager?" He placed a hand against his chest, wounded by the accusation.
"Nothing."

His expression changed.
"But this isn't about Voyager."

Janeway stared at him.

"It's about you," he clarified. 

She barely had time to respond.

Q raised his hand.

Janeway's eyes immediately fixed on his fingers.

"Don't you dare." She pointed at him.

His smile returned.

"Careful with promises, Kathryn. You never know what you might eventually be willing to sacrifice to keep one."

"Q—"

He snapped his fingers.

* * *

Gunfire.

Janeway threw herself to the ground as a burst of brilliant blue energy tore through the air above her head.

Her shoulder struck hard earth.

For several seconds, she remained there, stunned.

The gentle melody of Clair de Lune was gone. So too were the warm lights of her quarters and the familiar hum of Voyager's engines.

Another burst of weapons fire erupted somewhere in the distance.

Janeway lifted her head.

Smoke billowed into an unfamiliar sky. Fires burned amongst the shattered remains of buildings in the distance, while the unmistakable sounds of battle echoed around her.

"Q!" she shouted.

Nothing.

Her hand immediately found her combadge.

"Janeway to Voyager."

Silence.

She tapped it again.

"Janeway to Voyager. Respond."

Nothing.

Janeway pushed herself onto her knees.

"Computer?"

No response.

Of course not.

"Q!"

Still nothing.

Her jaw tightened.

"When I get my hands on you..."

Movement.

Janeway froze.

Voices.

Not far away.

She couldn't understand the language.

Janeway stopped.

Her commbadge.

If it was functioning at all, the translator should have been functioning with it.

Another voice joined the first.

Closer.

Janeway slowly rose to her feet.

She had no tricorder. No phaser. No idea where she was.

Only her uniform and the commbadge pinned to her chest.

"Perfect."

She looked towards the source of the voices.

Four figures emerged through the smoke.

Humanoid.

Armoured.

Armed.

And each possessed four eyes.

Janeway stared.

In seven years in the Delta Quadrant, she'd learned better than to judge an unfamiliar species by appearances.

She raised both hands slowly, palms visible.
"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager."

The four strangers stopped.

Janeway watched them carefully.
"I don't know if you can understand me, but I have no hostile intentions."

One of them raised his weapon.

Janeway's eyes dropped towards it.

"Then again..."

Her hands remained raised.

"...I've been wrong before."

The weapon remained trained on her.

Janeway swallowed.

"Alright," she began cautiously.
"I'm going to assume that's a universal gesture."

No response.

One of the four-eyed aliens stepped forward.

Janeway held her ground.

"I don't know who you are, and I don't know what conflict I've found myself in the middle of, but I can assure you that I'm not your enemy."

The alien barked something at her.

Janeway frowned. "I don't understand."

Another stepped around her.

Janeway's eyes followed him before quickly returning to the weapon pointed in her direction.

She was being surrounded.

Her mind raced.

Four of them. All armed. No phaser. No tricorder. No Voyager.

And no Q.

For all his faults, she couldn't believe he'd transported her somewhere simply to watch her be executed.

Then again, when Q was involved, assumptions were dangerous.

The first alien moved closer.

Janeway instinctively took a step backwards.
"That's close enough."

He didn't stop.

"I said, that's close enough."
Her command voice meant nothing to him.

Another unintelligible demand left his mouth as he reached towards her.

Janeway recoiled from his grasp.
"Don't touch me."

His hand shot forward.

Janeway reacted.

She caught his arm and twisted, using his momentum to throw him off balance before driving her elbow into his torso.

The alien staggered backwards.

For the briefest of moments, Janeway allowed herself to believe she'd bought some breathing room.

Then she heard the unmistakable sound of weapons shifting behind her.

She froze.

Slowly, Janeway raised her hands again.
"Point taken."

The alien she'd struck straightened himself.

Whatever uncertainty had existed in his expression moments earlier was gone.

He raised his weapon.

This time, Janeway found herself staring directly down its barrel.

Her eyes narrowed.

There would be no diplomacy.

No clever argument.

No Starfleet protocol capable of talking her way out of this one.

Janeway drew a slow breath.

"Q..." she whispered through clenched teeth.

The alien's finger tightened around the trigger.