Homecoming - Christie Golden [12]
“Captain on deck!”
The crew snapped to attention. Janeway savored the picture, her eyes roaming from one individual to the next. This was going to be bittersweet. She strode to the front of the room and stood behind the podium.
“At ease,” she said. They relaxed. She looked at the padd she held in her hand, then carefully placed it down. Even though she had spent hours crafting the speech, she now realized she didn’t want to use it. She would speak from the heart. Her crew deserved it.
“Seven years ago, I made a decision that left this crew and this fine ship stranded thousands of light-years from everything we knew. Even then, I held a firm conviction that this day, today, would come. The day when we are but a few hours away from Earth, and from finally seeing our loved ones. We have faced many challenges, learned many things. We’ve lost some fine people. Too many.”
She paused, giving herself and her crew a moment to reflect on the sacrifices some of their number had made. The losses still ached. If she were honest with [34] herself, she’d have to admit, it would have been impossible to get every single crewman home while battling such odds. But oh, how she had wanted to. Her eyes found Icheb and little Naomi, Gilmore and Lessing from the Equinox. She smiled, heartened by the sight of their faces.
“And added some new crew members along the way. Each of you has contributed in so many ways to making this incredible journey the astounding feat it was. It has been a true honor to be your captain. I have asked and asked, and asked yet more from you, and you always continued to astonish and amaze me with your resourcefulness, your courage, and your compassion. But now, the journey is done. This unique voyage has, finally, ended. We have come home.”
Her throat closed up and she blinked hard. She reached for the padd, found the spot she wanted. “I’d like to close with a quote from the Earth author, T, S. Eliot. ‘Not fare well, but fare forward, voyagers.’ ” She looked out into the sea of faces, all known, all loved, and knew that she would miss them and this ship desperately. “May we, voyagers all, fare forward. Godspeed.”
The room erupted in applause. She saw that her mixture of pain and joy was reflected on almost all the faces of her crew. Many were weeping openly. Chakotay stepped forward and motioned for quiet.
“Captain,” he said, “if you can spare the time, the crew has a request. They would all like the opportunity to make their personal farewells to you now, while they are all still formally crew members of Voyager.”
Janeway had thought her heart full, but now it [35] overflowed. For the rest of her life, she knew, she would remember this: walking down the seemingly endless line, sharing laughter, hugs, handshakes, slaps on the back. She tried to brand every face into her brain, every word, every expression. Whatever her own new voyage held for her, it would be hard-pressed to measure up to the exquisite, painful joy of this single precious moment.
There was to be a “welcome home” dinner for all crew members and their guests held at Starfleet headquarters in San Francisco. Because this was a hugely complicated gathering to arrange at such short notice, all crew were requested not to leave the ship in order to greet family and friends until the dinner.
“This is driving me nuts,” Harry Kim confided to Paris, stalking up and down the small room like a caged animal. “Why can’t I see them?”
“Starfleet red tape. That’s one thing I haven’t missed in the last seven years,” said Paris, cooing at little Miral. She wasn’t buying it. She glared at him, then opened her mouth and wailed lustily. He rose and thrust Miral into Harry’s arms. “Here. I don’t want to let all that rhythmic, soothing pacing go to waste.”
“You’re lucky,” said Kim, cradling the baby awkwardly and almost shouting to be heard over her crying. “You got to see your dad before anyone else on this ship.”
“Yeah, but it could have gone worse,” said Paris. He grinned a little as Miral’s angry cries faded into satisfied murmuring.