“Mr. Paris, do you have anything to add in your defense?”

Lieutenant Tom Paris stood at attention and, aware of the captain’s unyielding tone, shook his head in nervous anticipation. He felt the urgent need to defend himself from the irrational accusations but judging from how quickly the friendly banter that had started it all had mutated into a diplomatic conundrum, keeping his mouth shut sounded like good advice at the moment. He did his best to hide a retort, but he knew Janeway could read him like a book. She looked astonishingly calm, almost detached, which after hearing the Erusian ambassador refer to her helmsman’s shameful actions as a threat to the newly acquired Federation-Erusian relationships, spoke of self-control bordering with stoicism.

“Ambassador Geherian,” Janeway said, spreading her hands in the universal sign of conciliation. “I do not pretend to make excuses for my officer’s reproachful behavior, but if our race is guilty of something it is of acting irresponsibly when least expected.” 

The dignitary’s eyes flashed bright green. “We call that childhood.”

“We call it stupidity,” Janeway said, giving Tom a hard stare.

Tom risked a sideways glance at the ambassador’s aide. Geherian’s assistant, the shortest and youngest of the pair, kept a matter-of-fact expression and, by the way he was tugging at his ears, he didn’t seem to be enjoying the humming of Voyager’s tricyclic life support system. For once Tom was happy that B’Elanna had neglected to perform an otherwise minor tune-up under Voyager’s strict engineering maintenance protocol. He quickly diverted his eyes to a more welcoming sight, like the point of his boots.

The Ambassador’s baritone voice echoed in the spacious ready room. “I am afraid there is still too much to learn about your species, Captain.”

“We would be happy to share our database with the Erusian historians, Ambassador. I have no doubt that they would be delighted to put their hands on the first historical archive from the Alpha Quadrant. Tuvok,” Janeway turned to her chief of security. “Initiate transfer of all non-classified historical, scientific and linguistic databases to the Erusian retrieval mainframe.”

Tuvok keyed a code on his padd and said, “Transfer initiated.”

If Janeway was hoping for a heartfelt reaction from the Erusian dignitary to what was a major symbol of political courtesy, she was promptly disappointed when all she received in return was a court nod. She could sense a great deal of arrogance in the old man’s demeanor; that combined with a high dose of stubbornness was eroding a hole in her patience. True to her nature, the captain had already gone through the four usual stages of frustration, anger, coffee, and reflection, and was ready to give the order and have their aggravating guests beamed out of Voyager. 

Since first contact was the norm rather than the anomaly in the Delta Quadrant, and the survival of her crew was her first concern, Janeway had adapted Starfleet regulations to her immediate needs and came up with a very simple rule: let them speak first, unless they come bearing weapons, in which case shoot first and wait for the debris to dissipate. Even so, the Erusians seemed like a peaceful race, a little too biased perhaps, but nothing she hadn’t experienced before. With a frustrated sigh, she silently prayed for a quick resolution and offered a tight smile.

As expected, Ambassador Geherian didn’t reciprocate the smile. He looked suddenly preoccupied and leaned sideways to whisper in his assistant’s ear. The silky robe he was wearing opened by accident to reveal a rectangular device hanging from a chain around his neck. The mechanism was producing a muted noise, accompanied by an intermittent soft light emanating from a small rock cemented to the center.

Janeway noticed Tuvok’s cautious expression and Tom’s raised eyebrows, and anticipating their intention, silently shook her head.  Despite its dubious appearance, the device looked more like something you would find at a cheap Ferengi jewelry store rather than a concealed assassination weapon. Geherian skillfully re-tied his robe and focused his eyes on Janeway’s inquisitive face. His aide laced his hand in front of him in a wary posture, and when he spoke his words came out in a rush, each syllable tripping on the next one.

“Captain Janeway, it is very unfortunate but we need to bring our meeting to an end. The Conclave is waiting for the Sid’ha.” The small man had a soft, well-educated voice, and unless the universal translator was severely faulted, it carried a slightly remorseful under-tone.

Finally, Janeway thought. I wouldn’t mind putting an end to it myself.

 Tom, who had remained silent during the entire exchange, was now eyeing the Erusians with renewed interest. Janeway saw a glint of optimism in his eye, and had to struggle to keep her own hopes under control. As much as she would love to see the Erusians go, she wanted the small diplomatic incident solved before they had a chance to leave Voyager.

“To be honest with you, Ambassador,” she said, “I was hoping that we could reach an understanding regarding my officer’s… childish behavior. May I appeal to your good-nature and sense of justice and suggest the appropriate punishment for Lieutenant Paris?” She walked around her desk and positioned herself behind it, this way emphasizing her physical and psychological distance from her visitors. “It is customary for minor offenders on board Federation vessels to be punished by locking them in the brig.” In an attempt to show no leniency in front of the Erusians, and wishing to teach her helmsman a lesson, Janeway decided to make Tom’s disciplinary sanction as uncomfortable as possible. “Lieutenant Paris will be fed ration pack 5, and kept in isolation for the remainder of our stay in Erusian space. Will that satisfy your Conclave?”

“Captain…,” Tom began to protest. He would rather deal with a horde of drunken Fek’lhrs than eat ration pack 5. 

Janeway held her breath while studying the Erusians for any sign of capitulation. She decided that the aide would be a more willing target, and slightly changed her approach in order to get a favorable reaction from him. Perhaps that’s all Geherian needed, validation from his assistant—or a good kick in the rear.

“You will forgive me, Ambassador, I know you must go and I don’t want to keep your Conclave waiting. It’s in the best interest of the Federation to bring this matter to a satisfying resolution. If Mr…,” she purposely looked at the aide.

“Debian,” the short Erusian said.

“If Mr. Debian is so kind as to remain on the ship, I have no doubt that we can find the middle ground.”

Debian’s eyes locked with his superior’s and some sort of silent exchange passed between them. Geherian’s wrinkled face contorted in an unfortunate grin and his voice sounded burdened with the weight of his political duty. “You see, Captain,” he pointed out. “It’s not Debian or me who you need to appeal to for clemency. We are mere administrators. Our culture is sadly aware that we share this corner of the universe with less evolved creatures, but as regrettable as it sounds, this… weakness of your species does not stand as an excuse. Our civilization sees it as a deliberate mistake and as such, it needs to be addressed by the Conclave of Lights. Erusian law rests in the hands of the Light Bearers, our mediators with the Gods. They are the only ones entitled to administer the Justice of Truth.” His eyes seemed to expand to stress the point. Then he added, “The fate of the Sid’ha is not in my hands, much less Debian’s, who is a simple subordinate.”

Janeway’s granite face could only be compared to a boulder precariously balancing on top of a canyon, deciding whether to stay in place or plummet down toward the village at the foot of the mountain. At least she’s on my side, Tom thought, a thick layer of perspiration spreading above his upper lip. He also noticed that her teeth barely moved when she grunted, “I know close to nothing about your judiciary system, Ambassador, but it is usually the complainant’s prerogative, in this case you, to decide whether a case moves any further. If we believe in the existence of a universal greater good, sometimes an apology is all it takes.”

Gerehian’s deep liquid eyes gleam the glow of a torch about to turn into a raging fire. His twisted hands reached for the hidden pendant over the robe, like the claws of a vulture protecting its hard-won prey.

“I am bound by the faith of our predecessor and my duty to Erusia. I cannot ignore the right of the Conclave to execute justice the way hundreds of generations have done it before us. It is a mandate I will not break, Captain. And as small as your officer’s fault may seem to you, it is an insult of great importance that cannot be simply relinquished. The Sid’ha must suffer the sanction imposed by our Gods.”

Janeway looked at the Erusian officer straight in the eye and cocked her head. “Ambassador Geherian, I do trust that your law and judiciary system are adequate examples of justice in these parts of the Quadrant, but may I kindly remind you that we are not in Erusia? This is a Federation vessel in neutral space. We are under Federation law.” Janeway had tried to avoid an Erusian vs. Federation law face-off at all cost; however, the lack of cooperation her guests were demonstrating called for a bolder tactic.   

 “You may be in a Federation vessel, but you are definitely not in neutral space. Your Federation regulations do not apply here.”

A muscle under Janeway’s left eye began to tick. “Tuvok?”

Tuvok quickly punched a few keys on his padd and announced, “Cepha Regina, the mandatory port of entry to Erusian space, has drifted 173.25 kilometers from its predicted path.” He looked at the captain, his Vulcan acute sense of precision tangible in his voice. “According to these calculations, we are no longer in neutral space. The ambassador is correct, Captain. We are in Erusia.”

“How is that possible?” Janeway raised her arms up in the air and landed her palms flat on the desk. God, she needed coffee. “Are you sure the calculations are correct?” Stupid question to ask to a Vulcan, but she was running out of options. She could feel a tinge of desperation in her own voice and it didn’t help that her guests were witnessing another demonstration of Federation sluggishness.

Tuvok’s right eyebrow arched like a cat on guard, and he replied with a firm tone, “I have not detected any malfunction with the instruments, Captain, only a slight but expected calibration anomaly too insignificant to impact the results. If you wish…”

“Tuvok, there is no need to explain.” Janeway left out a long suffering sigh and massaged the bridge of her nose. “How did we miss this?”

“Our calculated trajectory was based on the elliptical orbit of all charted worlds in this sector. However, the data shows a discrepancy that can only be explained by a circular orbit due to the planet’s powerful gravity pull. Based on that information, I can only determine that we entered Erusian space 256.32 minutes ago. Exactly one hour before the… incident occurred.”

“Who ran the calculations?”

“I did,” Tom said. “I should have checked with Astrometrics before assuming Cepha Regina would follow the traditional orbit. I am sorry, Captain. It’s entirely my fault.”

“I only hope you like stewed tomatoes, Mr. Paris, because that’s what you’ll be eating for the next six months.”

Janeway couldn’t think of any other way to get out of this situation, other than begging. So she begged.

“Do Erusians believe in mercy, Ambassador?”

“We believe our gods can be merciful, yes. But mercy is not given freely, Captain.”

“How much does mercy cost in Erusia?”

Geherian’s stale laugh told her probably too much. “Can I ask you a question, Captain?”

“Go ahead.”

“What is fate?” he asked.

Was this a tricky question? Perhaps Erusians liked games and he was proposing a way to settle the score. She decided to answer as truthfully as she could.

“Fate is the result of our own decisions. Good or bad, the choice is ours.”

“Ah—a believer in the power of oneself. See, Captain? We were born light years apart but we can still share a belief. We Erusians look at our gods for guidance but in the end, we build our own path. Just like you.”

“I am happy we can agree on something,” Janeway mumbled, not in the least interested in pursuing a philosophical conversation with this dour-faced alien. “Then maybe, as a way of honoring our similarities, we could proceed to more pleasurable activities, like sightseeing. I heard that Erusia’s volcanoes, unlike Earth’s, have a diverse micro-organic environment.” 

“Under different circumstances I would have asked Debian to show you everything our world has to offer, Captain, but we need to hurry back.”

“We must depart now,” Debian said in an urgent tone. “The Conclave is waiting.”

“Sid’ha amok adus,” Geherian replied and clutched his pendant. “We must abide by the passage of Truth, Sid’ha.” 

Unsure as to what the Erusians were planning, Janeway decided to make a move of her own, “Tuvok…”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Have Chakotay meet me at shuttlebay 2. Mr. Paris, prepare the Delta Flyer.” Coming out from behind her desk, she addressed the older man, “Ambassador, I will personally deliver my crewman to your Conclave.”

“Captain, do you think it’s advisable?” Tuvok asked, a tad of alarm in his voice.

“Sometimes, in spite of what Ambassador Geherian may think, a touch of polite persuasion can be very effective. And Mr. Neelix assured me that the worst that could happen on the planet is drinking too much Erusian meade.”

Geherian hesitated only for a second and bowing slightly said, “As you please.” 

The first thing that Janeway noticed was that Debian had placed his hand on the Ambassador’s shoulder and Geherian had drawn the necklace out from under his robe and the medallion was now resting on his barren chest, vibrating in what seemed like a different frequency.

“Ambassador, it’s time” Debian pressed, and his eyes briefly focused on Janeway.

“Sid’ha amok adus,” Geherian chanted.

“Sid’ha amok adus,” Debian repeated.

“Captain Janeway, you must serve as Sid’ha,” Debian explained.

“I beg your pardon?” Janeway asked.

Geherian’s hand finally wrapped around the medallion, white knuckles sticking out, and an increase of the device vibration and sparks condensing in the air around them, indicated something was about to happen. It took Tom a millisecond to react—a millisecond too late.

Geherian’s free hand grabbed Janeway by the arm at the exact same time that Tom had reached out for the captain, but an electric discharge pushed him violently against the wall. His skull bounced against the hard surface and he felt himself drop to the floor.

“Whoa!”

In the brief moment that it took Tuvok to draw his phaser out and aim at the Erusians, his mind had already estimated that the chances of hitting the captain were 5% too high. While the two men observed in helpless disbelief, the captain and the two Erusian envoys were suddenly immersed in a luminous mist and swallowed by a burst of energy.

A second later, they were gone.

“Captain!” Tom yelled, struggling to stand up.

Tuvok hit his combadge and shouted “Shields up! Security detail to ready room.”

“Tuvok? “ It was Chakotay on the comm. “What is going on? We just detected a power surge in the bridge auxiliary power source.”

The ready room door abruptly hissed open to reveal two security officers carrying compression phaser rifles.

Tuvok gestured at them and with his usual Vulcan composure said “I am afraid that Captain Janeway has been kidnapped.”

***

“Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway of the Federation vessel Voyager.” The powerful voice split the cotton fields on her mind in two and she woke up to face three promontories and an obnoxious ring of light. On top of each promontory was a smaller podium that held an Erusian magistrate. Almost sick to her stomach, Janeway strained her eyes in an attempt to make out the blurry figures gazing down at her. 

“What the…”

“Do not fight it,” a soft voice whispered to her right. Her head moved in a slow semi-circle until the unmistakable profile of Debian, the Ambassador’s aide, brought the action to a sudden stop. Was he a prisoner too? She noticed more than she felt the shackles securely bounding her hands in front of her. Debian’s hands were comfortably resting in front of him.

“What have they done to me?” she croaked. She coughed and her mouth filled with a tangy fluid. Her back felt like someone had placed a crate of rocks between her shoulder blades. “Oh, God.”

“You have been given a serum, nothing that will leave residual effects,” Debian explained.

“I’m more worried about the fatal effects,” Janeway said. 

“You are safe, Captain, believe me.” Janeway searched his face for a hint of deceit but found none. Now, more than ever, she needed to believe. Even if it was in this short alien Embassy worker with the gentle voice and the looks of a Talarian warrior. 

“We have climbed the Summit of Penance in search of answers and our gods have spoken,” one of the magistrates announced. He lowered his voice and Janeway thought he was talking directly to her. “Sid’ ha, listen to the Light within you, the Truth within the Light and the Calling that the Truth casts upon yourself.”

“Debian, what is he talking about?” Janeway asked. She winced and tried to yank her right hand out of the grip of the shackles, but the pain only got worse.

“As your Endhu, I can simply offer you comfort in the knowledge that only being true to yourself you will find acceptance, and your way to a higher understanding,” Debian whispered. “It won’t be too long now.”

“Endhu?” Something dawned on her. “Are you my attorney?”

“Silence!” an authoritarian voice resounded behind her. Janeway turned around and was taken aback when a crowd larger than the crowd you would find at a sports event on Earth greeted her. The impossible mass of bodies was completely silent, which made the scene even more unreal. Every single eye in that sea of faces was staring at her, either unable to miss any detail, or too scared of what their gods would do if they dared to look away from this lesson in social jurisprudence. 

With a quivering sigh and the ineludible notion that her downfall would be witnessed by more Erusians than she could count, Janeway faced the Conclave to wait for their ruling. The gigantic ring of light that bathed the three promontories in a blue shade emitted a disheartening red glow and the once silent crowd erupted in a joyous clamor. She felt her knees weaken and if it hadn’t been for Debian’s hand around her arm she would have collapsed to the ground. Not the very last impression she wanted to leave behind.

“Stay strong, Sid’ha,” he said and tightened the grip on her arm. “The sentence is next.”

Janeway wasn’t looking forward to what the Erusian gods had to say. Most likely, there would be a death at the end. Hers.

“Debian, why am I being punished?” Janeway wasn’t scared of death. She had come to terms with her own mortality a long time ago. It was the absurdity of the situation, though, that was troubling her.

“As Tom Paris’ Sid’ha, you are to pay for his offence.”

“Debian, it was a joke. Tom Paris didn’t mean to cause any harm. Do Erusians have no sense of humor?”

“Humor?” Debian lips clenched in a thin line, an air of pure innocence descending upon his face.

Janeway sighed. “Forget it.”

Ignoring the persistent roar of the crowd was turning out to be an exercise in futility, especially when she could barely hear her own thoughts. The Erusian mob kept growing louder and louder, cheering for moments, clapping on occasion, their celebratory mood spreading like a raging wildfire. For a moment, Janeway allowed herself to breathe in their clamor, the unknown voices of yet another race of the Delta Quadrant that would probably become the last sounds she would ever hear. She had hoped for a different ending; a successful first contact that would help Starfleet chart an obscure corner of the Universe, and humanity embrace a new culture. The direction things were going, she would have to settle for a swift death.

“Captain Janeway,” it was the Ambassador speaking. He was one of the dark figures looking down at her from the top of a pedestal. “We take personal transgressions toward members of the Conclave very seriously. The deed cannot go unpunished.”

“You could have fooled me,” Janeway replied. She thought she heard the crowd gasp and wasn’t able to refrain a chuckle.

“You are now in the hands of fate.”

“Am I to infer from your foreboding words that my fate, as you so poetically put it, is dead?” Janeway questioned with a defiant voice. If she was going to die in the name of Erusian justice, she would die without granting her executioners the satisfaction of a job well done. Without the least of warnings, Janeway felt the overwhelming urge to see her crew and speak some last words of encouragement. She would be paying the ultimate sacrifice to save the life of Tom Paris, a choice she hadn’t made, but a burden she was willing to take. Would Voyager ever know what had happened to her?  Would Tom ever grow up?

Well, Kathryn, this is it. She bit her lower lip so hard that a tickle of blood found its way down her chin and into her jacket. The blood looked like a grease stain over the crimson fabric of her uniform. She only hoped that Neelix knew how to remove blood stains from Starfleet uniforms. Neelix didn’t even do her laundry, but for some reason it made perfect sense to envision the little Talaxian scrubbing the blood off her uniform after they had found her. Perhaps she should have conceded him the opportunity to negotiate with the Erusian Ambassador. With his ingenuity and charisma he could have very well turned this fiasco into a successful first contact. 

 “So… what have your gods decided?” she asked loud enough for the cavernous hall to propagate her voice to the farthest row of spectators. Almost on command, the crowd went silent. 

“Sid’ha,” Geherian announced. “You asked for mercy, did you not?” 

“I ask for nothing, Ambassador,” she retorted, “but for this charade to be over.”

Geherian showed some vacillation, but quickly composed himself. “Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway from the Federation vessel Voyager. Our gods decided to be merciful with you and give you the opportunity to test yourself,” he exclaimed. “You are to be thrown into the Endless Pit where you will either fall for eternity—or redeem yourself. So the Gods have spoken!”

Voices erupted in a chant and another magistrate raised his hand to ask for silence. “Kathryn Janeway… You are to take responsibility for the crime of one Tom Paris. In preparation for your ordeal, it is my duty to notify you of the following… If you are unable to recognize the Truth—your calling—the Endless Pit will be your final fate. You will be descending the dark void, your body will suffer the mutations, the flesh exposed to abrasive winds and exposure endures; your mind will ask and cry for the end, an end that will never come. Do you accept the penance?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Before the Conclave could even answer, she felt hands on her back and she was unexpectedly ushered toward the edge of the crowd. 

“Debian, what the hell is going on?”

“You are being taken to the Endless Pit.” 

Then, in a desperate final attempt to voice her concerns, she asked, “Where is Voyager?”

“Anchored in the upper atmosphere. They are not able to intervene; their navigational instruments and transporters were rendered useless.”

Janeways’ head turned as fast as a whip. “That’s a flagrant assault on a Federation ship!” 

“It was the only way to prevent the affair from escalating. Please, understand that we do not wish to harm you.”

“Say that to my first officer when you try to explain how I tripped into a hole.”

She thought of running, hiding in the mass of spectators, but someone pushed her from behind and the crowd abruptly parted to reveal a paved long road that ended in a foggy plateau some half a kilometer away. Somewhere mid-way she lost track of Debian and when she finally reached a platform that overlooked a crater three times the size of Voyager, she was already physically and emotionally exhausted.

A dull-faced guard tore off her combadge and rank insignia and unlocked her shackles. Janeway instinctively rubbed her sore wrists. Someone pushed her forward until she was only a few meters away from the precipice. 

“Captain—Captain!” Debian came out from the crowd breathing heavily. “Listen to me. The world around you… the world around you may be crumbling but as long as you recognize your purpose, what gives sense and direction to your life, you will live. Let your human heart choose the path that will set you free, and most importantly, will return you to Voyager.”

And then the chant started. “Sid’ha amok adus! Sid’ha amok adus!”

She felt herself step closer to the edge, the gargantuan opening in the ground inviting its next willing victim. She thought of black holes and supernovas and how an inappropriate kind of death a crater in the surface of a small planet was for a Starfleet captain.

“Do you have anything to say before your descent?” the willowy officer who had removed her shackles asked.

Janeway’s weary eyes scanned the Erusian skies for Voyager. Her majestic ship was somewhere up there; deaf and blind, soaring like a wounded angel of vengeance ready to dive at the first glimmer of power in its systems. She favored the guard with an irritated snarl and said, “This is not the end.”

With those final words, Kathryn Janeway jumped into the abyss.

***

Janeway was falling. Her entire body was tense in anticipation for a collision that, if she dared to believe the Erusian magistrate, might never occur. Secretly hoping that she would hit the wall of the pit and, in an act of Erusian mercy, knock herself out, Janeway re-accommodated her arms in a more aero-dynamic shape. It took her a good twenty minutes to decide that her attempt to control the fall wasn’t working; the angle she was dropping at and the speed of the wind were making each movement a laborious task, and by the time she reached that conclusion she was out of breath.

She gazed up at the distant mouth of the crater and the diminishing light meant that she was already at a considerable depth. Soon, she would be in complete darkness. What next?, she thought. Am I really dying? Would this infinite night that smelled of putrid organic matter tinged with a tad of sulfide be her final resting place? 

As blackness crept up, Janeway allowed herself to recount the last hours on board Voyager and her expedited passage through the Erusian judiciary system, which had left her with a bitter aftertaste and a load of empty answers. She lapsed into a meditative estate, Debian’s ultimate request still fresh in her mind. The world around you may be crumbling but as long as you recognize your purpose, what gives sense and direction to your life, you will live. It sounded more like a preacher’s sermon than a counselor’s legal advice, but if there was meaning to his words, she would hold on to them. After all, she had all the time in the world to unravel their secrets.

Janeway had started to doze off when her eyes discerned a bright perpendicular line crossing the entire diameter of the crater like a gigantic phaser beam dividing the opening in two. Far down the gap, wedged between what looked like a man-made metallic frame, she discovered the source, a powerful emitter protected by a transparent encasement. Janeway decided it was unlikely that this was some sort of warning signal indicating the bottom of the pit. Feeling a burst of exhilaration, she summoned all of her willpower and was able to switch to a full stretch position. With her body offering resistance to the wind, she gained a little more time to examine the upcoming disturbance, until the ray of light became a wide column of sparkling energy approaching at alarming speed. 

“Damn!”

Janeway suddenly felt her body jerk and some invisible tractor beam pulling her toward a gash on the rock wall. The harsh movement almost dislocated her shoulder. Grunting, she let the force pull her in. Submerged in a dense white light she was promptly transferred to a wide open space that resembled one of the many landscapes she had visited in her travels. It smelled of rain and freshly cut grass, but she knew it wasn’t Earth. She thought of her grandfather’s farm in Indiana but the thought quickly vanished when she felt a warm weight on her shoulder.

“Captain Janeway.”

The voice was deep and the tone amiable. Janeway tried to get up but the weight of her body was suddenly in the way.

“Do not try to move. Your body needs time to re-adjust to gravity.”

Janeway pushed herself up not without effort and half sat. “Who are you? Where am I?”

Eyes as dark as charcoal in a face that looked strangely familiar stared back at her. The old man was dressed in a white garment, a lonesome belt around the waist, and only when he came closer did she realize he had pointy ears. A Vulcan.

 “I will answer those questions, but first I need to inform you that you are still going to fall down the pit. Nothing you learn from me today will change the Conclave’s ruling.”

“Is this some sort of mind game? A dream?” Janeway’s forehead creased in confusion and then her eyes opened in blunt realization. “Q?”

“The Q’s have been banished from Erusia for thousands of years.”

“Good. Now I know where I can retire.”

The old man crossed his hands in front of him and added, “You are in a volcanic crater in the western sector of Erusia Abyssi.”

Janeway’s eyes wandered the idyllic setting that looked nothing like a land of volcanoes. “How do green pastures and blue skies qualify as a volcanic landscape, not to mention a Vulcan.”

The stranger’s eyebrows rose disapprovingly and the gesture seemed to trigger a memory in Janeway’s mind. 

“Spock!” she exclaimed while struggling to stand. “You are Ambassador Spock.” It took her a few seconds to stabilize her rubber legs. “You cannot be real.” Spock had been dead for 100 years. A dark thought formed in her mind. “Unless… I’m dead.”

“Captain, let me reassure you that you are still very much alive. My presence here should not alarm you.”

Spock’s words were not making much sense, but nothing was. 

“If I’m to understand that you are a man who died almost a century ago, then answer this. How did you get here?”

“I’ve always been here, waiting.”

Janeway looked him dead in the eye. “You will have to be more specific than that.”

“In order to find the answer you have to stop struggling to understand and open your mind.”

 “That, coming from a Vulcan, sounds like ill advice.”

“In another time, perhaps, but here I am permitted to walk any path that I see auspicious. The search for enlightenment proves to be a challenging task, albeit not an unattainable one. You should try it some time.”

Janeway frowned and pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You haven’t lost your philosophical streak, Spock. I read all of your writings and memoirs. But don’t let me stop you—you were talking about enlightenment. That is a very powerful word.”

“Indeed. Like one of your human great minds once said, Sapere Aude!”

“Dare to be wise!” Janeway repeated. “Are you trying to tell me that I should stop following the opinion of others and allow my own reason, and let’s not forget logic, show me the way out of this rock?”

Spock eyes seemed to penetrate the windy corners of her soul and for a moment, she feared this was a dream on the fringes of a nightmare from which she would never wake up. 

“Use your reason to build bridges if you ever want to go back to the Alpha Quadrant,” Spock said.

“Logic can’t move rocks or bend space-time for that matter,” Janeway lashed out, a little irritated at the Vulcan’s moralizing speech.

“As intriguing as it may sound,” Spock continued, “logic defies the immaterial; it’s the structure upon which civilizations can build the engines to fuel the future.”

Janeway thought about the irony of her situation. She was on some volcanic planet in the Delta Quadrant discussing enlightenment with a man that, for all practical purposes, was already dead. 

“I beg to differ,” she said. “Give a man imagination and he will build a thousand futures. Logic has only one possible outcome. Imagination, on the other hand, sees no limit.”

“A true but nevertheless emotional response,” Spock’s stance suddenly changed to a more defensive one. “You must be tired from your journey. Perhaps… you should rest.”

A hint of a smile appeared on Janeway’s face. Was the old man with the unnerving likeness to Ambassador Spock displaying signs of dismay? Janeway allowed the smile to spread across her face secretly hoping that Geherian and his contingent of Light bulbs were watching.

“You seem unable to disagree with me, Spock.”

“I am not here to give you the answer you are looking for, Captain.”

“You are persistent, I give you that. But as useful as logic can be, some situations call for a less complex response. Humans are a testament of it.” Janeway turned her head around in a full circle, her eyes roaming the green expanse. “Is this the best you can do, Geherian?” She shouted at no one. Then she looked at Spock with a feral smile and added, “I trust my guts more than I trust your nifty Vulcan ways. Now, if you excuse me, I think I need to go back to the pit.”

Janeway walked toward the entrance of the cave without looking back.

“Captain!” Spock called.

Janeway held to the rocky promontory that marked the exit and waited for the old man’s words of reproach. Instead, Spock ceremoniously lifted his right hand and joined his finger in the classical Vulcan farewell.

“Live long and prosper.”

***

She had been falling for over seven hours. After the bizarre little talk with Spock, she had resisted the calling of the abyss with all her might, knowing very well that it could be the fall that could put an end to it all. Only seconds before jumping over the edge for the second time, she had been invaded by a gripping fear, the image of Voyager and her crew seared in her mind as a reminder of what she had left behind. At that moment she realized it wasn’t the fear of dying what was clawing at her; the idea of having failed as a Captain and the real possibility that Voyager might never go back to the Alpha Quadrant was her only regret. Even though she had been taken from Voyager by hostile hands, her uncompromising mind would still see it as a failure. She had abandoned her crew.  

Plummeting even deeper, Janeway tried to keep her body away from the dangerous walls of the crater, but the gust of air coming from its entrails and her momentum kept pushing her closer and closer to the rugged surface. The gravitational forces of the void assaulting her body had somehow washed away the dread and left her with clingy tremors that seemed to scatter the deeper she fell. Fear had given way to something else. Anger. The feeling boiling in her veins was proof that she was still alive, and wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She faced the Endless Pit with renewed determination.

The wind had dried her skin and turned her already disheveled hair into a grimy mop. She knew the zigs and zags her body was enduring would hurt tomorrow—if there was a tomorrow after all. Somehow the fall had managed to rip open one of the lapels on her uniform and the loose fabric was flapping away like a broken sail in a storm.

Anxious to perfect her recent skills, Janeway straightened her arms in front of her and shifted her body in order to control the direction of the plunge. A few corrections later, she was able to maintain the angle and put enough distance between herself and the wall to relax. As time passed, the fall started feeling more like floating and a deep somnolence overtook her. Sleep would be a welcomed relief, sweet oblivion to appease her convoluted mind and forget for a minute or two the painful bruises covering her body. For a moment, she thought she heard someone calling her name, like a litany coming out from a distant place, repeating a name that she used on occasion but wasn’t entirely hers. She decided that it was probably a hallucination, her mind fighting the trauma; but the urgency in the tone and the familiar accent brought her straight back to the realm of consciousness. 

“Katie?”

With a groan, Janeway lifted her head to find a very troubled Michael Sullivan staring at her. 

“Katie—are you all right?”

She looked past Michael’s prostrated figure to discover the simple décor of Fair Haven’s pub. She tried to speak but a guttural sound came out instead and she had to cough to clear her airways. 

 “Water, please…”

Michael got to his feet and came back in seconds with a glass. Janeway pried the glass out of his hand and drank its entire contents in two big gulps. She sighed contently, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If it wasn’t that I’m already on a class M planet in the Delta Quadrant, I could swear I’m in the holodeck.”

 Michael’s eyebrows did a funny dance and then he was helping her up when she made the effort to stand up. The back of her head hurt like someone had whacked her with a mace. She touched a sore spot and her fingers came back red.

“Ouch.” She straightened her back and a little swaying brought the sudden movement to a halt. A worried barkeep held her by the shoulders.

“Easy, Katie. You’ve been out cold for more than an hour now. You were lucky that I found you.”

“Michael… how did I end up here?”

“I found you on my way back from Castle O’Dell. You were just lying on the road, like someone had placed you there with the intention of being found. I thought it was one of our old patrons having their beauty rest,” he smiled and continued, “but then I saw it was a woman… Katie, I almost passed out myself. At first I thought… I thought you were dead. I didn’t know what had happened, how bad your injuries were. I picked you up and brought you here. I’m sorry the improvised hospital is less than suitable,” he added bashfully.

The pub was empty and Janeway noticed it was dark outside. Fair Haven was sleeping.

“I happen to find this place charming, like its owner,” she said with a graceful smile. Then she looked him right in the eye, a little impressed with how well she was taking this part of her punishment. Michael Sullivan was the last individual she had expected to see. Funny how she couldn’t quite separate the human from the hologram. Partly her creation, this perfect man made of photons would be entirely devoted to her if she only gave him a sign. What were the Erusians thinking when they decided to bring Michael Sullivan back to life? And most importantly, could she deny that she felt delighted that they had done so?

That old feeling her heart had denied her so many times was still raw, waiting to re-surface, and she knew that with nothing more than a touch, it would burst like a red giant at the end of a dormant phase. She tried to convince herself that this version of Michael Sullivan was an entity programmed by the Erusians, a far more dangerous illusion than anything she could have created. They had placed Michael Sullivan on her way, like a rock blocking a mountain passage, a temptation to divert her from this quest she had been handed, and was so determined to see until the very end.

She shook her head to clear up the clouds in her brain. Michael was still observing her, reading every line on her face like you read a favorite book that you already know by heart. Janeway realized he had said something and raised her head. Only then she noticed that Michael was still wearing an overcoat and his hat had been carelessly thrown to the floor. “I guess a thank you is in order.”

His white teeth glowed in a smile. “You have a hard head. It looks like somehow you managed to fall and hit your head on a rock. The wound was bleeding a little but other than that nothing seems broken.” He moved a chair and placed it next to her. “Sit for a little while until the dizziness is gone.” She complied with his words and he sat next to her, his eyes never leaving her face. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I would lie if I said I remember. I was… walking and probably tripped. You know how much I love exercise.”

“So late at night?” His kind brown eyes seemed genuinely concerned and she had to restrain herself from touching him. The Erusians had done a superb job.

“I wasn’t aware of the time when I left. Michael…,” she cupped his cheek with her hand and his adoring smile almost took her breath away. “You need to understand that things have changed. I’m not the same person you once knew…”

“You will always be my Katie.”

“I was afraid you would say that.”

“You came back. That’s all that really matters now.” He captured her hand in his and brought it to his lips. She felt the kiss on the back of her hand and closed her eyes to savor this moment of splendid bliss. What now?, she thought. Is he going to start quoting Jane Eldon or ask me to dance to the swing of a fiddle? His rich voice seemed to break the spell. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

They both rose at the same time and, without releasing her hand, he dragged her to the other end of the pub, to the door she knew led to a small room where he kept a desk and a bookcase full of poetry. Not for a moment she thought of stopping him, or asking where he was taking her. She trusted this version of Michael Sullivan to treat her as the perfect gentleman he was. He was holding a small lamp he had picked up from one of the tables and when they reached the top of the stairs, he let her hand go to open the door and invite her in.

“I’ve been secretly hoping you would show up one day. Please, sit down.”

She obediently sat on the only chair, an expectant expression on her face. He went to a small wooden box next to a thick book and brought it to the desk. He lifted the lid with careful fingers and took out what at first she thought was a small dagger. He presented the metallic object with both hands and Janeway had to bite her tongue to not let out a cry of surprise. Michael was holding the unmistakable shape of her combadge. She grabbed it at once, her only tie to Voyager suddenly restored.

“Katie, this is my heart you are now holding,” Michael said and he kneeled in front of her. Janeway’s confusion turned into recognition when she looked at the combadge and realized that what to her looked like Starfleet’s communication device to Michael Sullivan was a piece of metal modeled after a heart.

“Where did you find it?,” she asked.

“Find it?” he asked, confused. “Katie, I made it.”

Janeway furrowed her forehead and immediately flipped the badge to examine the back. The device was heavier than she remembered and slightly bigger. Other than that, it was a perfect replica. Her hopes to contact Voyager faded as soon as she noticed that she was holding a small piece of art rather than an advanced communication instrument.

She sighed, unable to hide her disappointment. Michael read into her mood change, and said, “You don’t like it?”

Janeway could do nothing but smile. She placed the combadge replica upside down on top of her own heart and replied, “I love it.”

Michael mimicked her smile with one of his own. “I saw you wearing one the first time I saw you. Let me secure it to your jacket.” He took the badge from her hands and affixed it to her uniform. With a satisfied expression, he held her by the shoulders. “I love you, Katie.”

The memory of their first kiss played in her mind and before she could stop herself, her lips reached out to his and sealed this improbable bond with a long, unfaltering kiss. He held her in a bear embrace for a whole minute and Janeway, unable to reject his affection, allowed herself to dream.

“I don’t have much to offer, Katie, but I would be the happiest man in Ireland if you decided to stay.” 

Janeway rested her chin on his shoulder and let out a long sigh. “Oh, Michael, if it was that easy.”

He pushed her back slightly to better look at her and added, “You would be amazed at how uncomplicated love can be. It has the power to accomplish everything.”

If only I could believe that, Janeway thought. She imagined herself living the perfect life in a little Irish village, away from the burden of universal warfare and critical inter-species exchange, and though it sounded like the epitome of every woman’s wish, she refused to give in to the illusion that Michael was portraying. It was hard to imagine that this remarkable man was not actually made of flesh and bone, with a beating human heart pumping blood and life through a body created from stardust, but a basin of photonic energy. To Michael Sullivan love seemed to be the answer to everything. But love, Janeway mustered, could not hail Voyager from the bottom of this endless tomb. Love could not keep a limitless reserve of dilithium to feed the warp core or make an intrepid spaceship achieve warp factor ten that would make their seventy five years journey back to the Alpha Quadrant a mere walk in the park. 

She slowly stood up, and held Michael’s eyes with hers. 

“If I had to choose a man to love for eternity, that man would be you, Michael Sullivan. But I have things to do and I cannot stay.”

“Katie… what can I do to make you change your mind?”

Janeway’s sad smile told him everything he needed to know. “There is a world out there that I need to go back to.”

Deep regret lines were etched on the Irish barkeep’s features. He did not attempt to stop her; instead, he slowly moved backwards and held the door open, no longer on her way. She could already hear his heart breaking once again and hesitated, just for an instant, the pain her choice had unleashed tugging at her resolve. She had no doubts that if the Erusians were broadcasting the events, they would be weeping at this galactic soap opera. She closed her eyes, suddenly angry at the situation, and without a second thought approached Michael and kissed him on the cheek.

“Good bye, Michael,” Janeway said.  

“Good bye, Katie,” he replied.

Before she could change her mind, she added, “Computer, end program.” 

The next thing she knew, she was falling again.

***

Janeway was tired and all she could do to pass the time was surrender to the silence and the darkness and beg for some sleep. Michael’s somber face had been traveling with her for the past hour or so, making sleep elusive. She knew that her decision to leave Fair Haven had been the right one. However, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of regret.

One thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t keep falling down the crater forever. These little games that the Erusians had planned for her as part of her punishment were too emotionally charged and the way they kept pushing her to the limit, playing with her fears and guilt, would only end up destroying her. She wasn’t worried about the toll her body was taking; her psyche, she noticed with distress, was taking the biggest blow.

Her arms and legs fully expanded, she felt her stomach drop when a change in air pressure indicated the presence of a large object below. Unable to distinguish anything at all, she helplessly prepared herself for impact. Based on multiple encounters with death over the past six years, Janeway did what she recognized was her only way to get back at her executioners. She faced the inevitable with renewed determination. 

Her body contortioned in a painful way and finally morphed into an arrow-like silhouette traversing the air at increased speed toward a destiny she couldn’t avoid.

So much for a bottomless pit, she thought.

Janeway barely had time to brace for the imminent collision when she felt herself hit a mass of water and sink for meters before coming to a gradual stop. Her nose and mouth quickly filled with liquid and she realized she would drown if she didn’t do something fast. She opened her eyes to water as black as the night she had just escaped, and fighting panic she closed her mouth to avoid ingesting more water. She diverted every single drop of strength she had left to her arms and started to swim toward the surface, hoping there was a surface to arrive to. After what felt like hours of paddling through the water, her oxygen deprived lungs bursting, Janeway reached the surface in a glorious splash, coughing and spitting at the same time. It took her disoriented mind a few seconds to comprehend that the darkness had given place to a bright atmosphere, so intense and warm, that her eyes acclimated to the absence of light, were severely hurting. Blinded by an artificial star as powerful as Earth’s Sun, she covered her face to wait for the lingering effect to be over. 

Finally able to see, she noticed with delight that the water was crystal clear and the distinctive shape of a swimming-pool was surrounding her. With long strokes, she approached the edge and pulled herself out of the water. She lay on the warm hard surface of the deck and allowed herself a few seconds to catch her breath.

Filling her lungs with a gulp of fresh air, she wiped her face and lifted her torso when she heard the familiar sound of a dog approaching. In the distance, the happy yapping turned into euphoric barking and still many meters away, Janeway was able to recognize the shiny coat of an Irish Setter rushing in her direction. Immediately, she was on her feet. 

“Molly!” she screamed.

The beautiful dog reached her in a swirl of legs and tongue. Janeway held her by the head and kissed her fluffy ears. “Oh, Molly! Have you been a good girl?” The dog’s excited barks were music to her ears. To her complete astonishment, Janeway felt tears running down her face. She wrapped the goofy dog in her arms, afraid to let go after six years of separation, and finally found the strength to part. 

“Where have you been all these years?” she asked in a melancholic tone. As on cue, Molly started running and Janeway found herself following in the dog’s steps. Unable to believe her eyes, she was confronted with one of the most beautiful landscapes she had ever seen in all her time wandering the Delta Quadrant. Never ending fields of crops opened in front of her like the golden hair of a resting titan swaying in the wind. The blue skies extended for kilometers, encompassing the yellow pastures as far as the eye could see and disappearing in a burst of vermilions and oranges behind a fiery sunset.

She turned right and saw the house she had grown up. Nothing had changed; exactly the same white siding and gray roofing, the ample porch where she had spent so many summers reading about space travel, where her passion for the stars had turned into a career in Starfleet. A spirited wind that smelled of flowers and earth tickled her nostrils and memories from a not so distant past guided her footsteps toward the house. The front storm door screeched and she stepped into the spacious hallway. It was a little unnerving to be in a house that was a mirror image of her childhood home, up to the smells and small creaks of the hardwood floor. 

“Mom?” she called. She looked around expecting to see her mother come out of the kitchen or down the stairs. “Mom, are you here?” she called louder. She was greeted with silence. She entered the kitchen and saw a plate covered by a dish-towel. She lifted the towel and found a piece of turkey with gravy and potatoes. Next to the dish, there was a note with her mother’s handwriting. She read it aloud. “Dinner is on the counter-top. I made your favorite, so don’t forget to eat. Went to town to visit Annabelle. Love, mom.” 

With a lingering smile, Janeway grabbed a clean plate from the cabinet next to the fridge and served herself a turkey leg and some potatoes. Then, she poured a glass of milk from the fridge and walked back to the porch. She sat on the hanging bench to enjoy dinner while watching the Indiana sunset, and Molly curled up at her side, her adoring eyes shifting from her face to the turkey and back. This was what home was supposed to feel like. Even on board Voyager, the closest to a home she had actually had for the past six years, nothing could come close to this invisible force pulling her in and reminding her that in all the vast universe there was a place that she could certainly call hers.

Lazily swinging in the chair, her dinner long gone, Janeway thought of her crew and the thousands of sunsets they had collectively seen and dreamed upon. All the faces that she regularly crossed paths with within Voyager’s corridors were gazing down at her right now. Every single one of them would be wondering where their captain had disappeared to, how she could fulfill a promised she had made when the Caretaker had hurled Voyager across systems and stars, all the way to the far end of the Milky Way, and they had found themselves lost and away from everything that was dear to them. They had a home to return to—family and friends that they could only hope of holding again. She had been given this unique opportunity; a glimpse of what coming back home would feel like. The vision had set in motion an undeniable longing and in all her travels, in all her quests, nothing had felt so right like this moment. 

Janeway slowly rose to her feet, kissed her dog on the nose and started her long walk into the sunset.

***

Her eyes blasted open in alarm. 

“Captain, everything is alright.”

“Where am I?” She seemed to be asking that same question a lot lately. Her right eyebrow lifted dangerously when she recognized Debian, the Erusian ambassador’s aide. 

“The ordeal has ended. You are still in Erusia and Voyager is waiting to beam you up as soon as we give the order.”

Janeway struggled to sit on the cot and noticed that a gray and clean robe had replaced her uniform. “Did I pass the test?” she asked suspiciously. 

Debian’s mouth curled in a flustered smile. “You have largely demonstrated why you’ve been chosen to lead. Our Conclave is very impressed and Ambassador Geherian, who was called away, asked me to personally congratulate you. You need to understand that our intentions were never to harm you or your ship. In our culture, Sih’das are guides of light and, as a leader, you are encouraged to challenge yourself to discover what is best for you and your followers. It’s a quest for revelations.”

“If you think for a moment that bringing my crew back home isn’t the only reason why I get up every day, you are sadly mistaken.”

He nodded and added, “I do believe that your crew will be very happy to know that their captain won’t let anything get in the way of bringing them home.”

“That’s a very positive assessment of my character, Debian, and you certainly didn’t need to throw me down a volcano to stress your point,” Janeway grumbled.

 “Secretary, Voyager is anxious to recover their captain,” a disembodied voice announced from a communication panel.

“Very well. Permission granted. Captain, before you depart,” he lifted a fist up in the air. “I want to give you this back.” Michael Sullivan’s heart shaped badge was lodged in the middle of his open hand. “I hope that you will find your way home.”

Janeway extended her hand and just when her fingers started to close around the small token, her body tingled and she felt herself break up in a discharge of atoms and molecules rushing up toward the heavens.