And now she sat in the quiet of her Ready Room with a new realization: the choice was never hers to make. It didn't make a damn bit of difference what action she had taken. Starfleet had placed her in the worst no-win situation; she hadn't even been given Sophie's choice. The only choice she had on that planet was whether to watch Justin and her father die or to turn away. That was the cruel lie in Kirk's lesson; it wasn't always possible to change the rules. At some point in life, one encounters a true no-win situation. Even Kirk had faced this realization, although it was surprisingly late in his career. The Klingons had the weapons. They made the rules. They would kill either Kirk's son or Savik; they killed Kirk's son.
What had this lie cost her? Only the pain and guilt she had struggled with for the last two years. Living with the knowledge, now shown false, that she could have saved one of the two men. Justin. Daddy. What a burden that false knowledge had been.
It had almost cost her the ability to command. The collapse of her mental dam and the subsequent flood of memory had come at a most inopportune moment, in the midst of their encounter with the Tokath. She was on the bridge, for God's sake, but her mind was back on that damned ice planet, seeing Justin and her father slipping towards death, knowing her failure. As she stood on her bridge, caught between the compelling past and the demanding present, she was terrified that she would be unable to deal with the present crisis. The memories, the fear of another failure, the inability to decide, all consorted to paralyze her. The current situation with the Tokath was hauntingly familiar. The landing parties were in danger, but to return for their rescue might destroy Voyager. Save her away teams or protect her onboard crew. Sophie's choice again. No-win.
Luck was with her that day. Kirk's solution worked. She changed the rules, forced the Tokath back into hibernation. Rescue the stranded; escape unharmed. A clever, creative, Starfleet solution. It had saved the day, but it hadn't saved Kathryn. Not really. She knew she still had to deal with the true challenge of command, when rules couldn't be changed and the best she could do would be to minimize the loss. She knew that Sophie's choice would confront her again, demanding that she weigh the cost of each option, decide who to sacrifice. She knew she had failed Sophie's choice that day on the ice planet. She worried she would fail again, and her crew would pay the price. Commanding officers had to be able to choose. And to not let the choice destroy them.
As it turned out, Sophie's choice presented itself not long after their encounter with the Tokath. It was embodied in an individual born from a transporter accident. His name was Tuvix. Tuvix was a hybrid of Neelix's and Tuvok's genetic makeups. He wasn't either of them. Nor, the crew quickly discovered, was he simply the sum of them. He was himself, a unique individual. Kathryn liked him. The whole crew did. He was intelligent, charming, insightful, and loving. He had a zest for life. And he held an unshakable belief that the procedure developed to reverse the accident's effect was nothing short of his cold-blooded execution.
Ultimately, the decision was placed in Kathryn's hands. Tuvix, or Tuvok and Neelix. Her choice. Oh, there was Starfleet protocol to guide her: minimize loss, choose the greater good, respect prior claim. But interpretation of these axioms was subjective; logic could be twisted to support either side of the argument. She knew what she faced. It was Sophie's choice.
She chose Tuvok and Neelix. It was left to her to administer the hypospray that would permit genetic separation. Tuvix stared at her with sad, confused eyes as she started the procedure. It was left to her to activate the transported sequence. She and the others watched as Tuvok and Neelix materialized on the biobed. And at that same instant, Tuvix became a deleted pattern in the transporter's buffer.
Kes rushed to embrace Neelix. Kathyn approached her returned crewmen and quietly greeted them: "It's good to have you back." Then she turned and left Sickbay. The walk to her quarters was one of the longest of her life. There was no way she could feel anything but horrible about what she had just done. Her decision haunted her, but it did not destroy her. She had transcended Sophie's choice.
So this lie had cost her, she realized. It had, for a time, diminished her, threatened her. But she recovered, and defeated the demons it created. She was more concerned about the demons these events would have created for her sister. Phoebe now knew that her father hadn't been killed in an accident, but rather had martyred himself to preserve Starfleet security. And she knew that he was willing to risk Kathryn's life, and Justin's as well, to achieve this end. Kathryn wondered if Phoebe could possibly understand their father's actions. Did Phoebe understand that he was, truly, only doing his job? Could she appreciate that the tragedy that resulted was simply the result of a cascade of unforeseen misfortunes? Bad luck that the section with her father and Justin landed in the water. Bad luck that nobody insisted on some sort of operational transporter. Bad luck (or bad planning) that the Search and Rescue team didn't want to appear to be "hovering" at the crash site, and had no inkling of their dire situation. And damn bad luck that Kathryn was whisked to another quadrant before Starfleet could help her cope with her recovered memories, to help her understand that she never was responsible for the death of the two most important men in her life.
Kathryn worried that Phoebe might now think their father a monster, unfeelingly throwing his loved ones in harm's way to protect his damn creation. She wished she could talk with Phoebe and make her understand. Edward Janeway wasn't a monster; he was simply a Starfleet officer. She hoped Phoebe could understand. She hoped Mark would help Phoebe understand.
And what did Kathryn understand? Well, she understood that she felt like the butt of a remarkably unfunny cosmic joke. First, she suffered the greatest lost in her life because the Terra Nova's descent trajectory was off by less than a degree; because Starfleet was afraid to provide them with a working transporter in fear it might fall into the hands of a Cardassian strike team which never, as it turned out, came anywhere near the site; because their Starfleet backup, unaware of their desperate need, arrived too late. Then she had had to deal with the mistaken guilt of causing her father's and Justin's deaths because the only people who could have told her the truth were seventy thousand light-years away and presumed she was dead anyway. She was half tempted to check to see if Q was in the room.
And she sadly understood that she would never know whether or not Justin was aware of their mission's true purpose. Yes, he had been part of the planning for Urtea II, but that didn't mean Starfleet would have included him on this latter occasion. Would he have agreed to the plan? For himself, without a doubt. He was a Ranger. Rangers took risks. A lot of risks. On average, five percent of the Rangers were lost during operations each year. At first blush, that didn't sound too bad; if 5% were lost, that meant 95% survived. But Kathryn had done the math before she accepted his marriage proposal. If Justin stayed with the Rangers for twelve years, as he planned at the time, his chances of survival were about 50-50. Not very good odds, but Kathryn accepted them. She did not try to delude herself into thinking only the least competent Rangers were lost, that Justin would survive on the basis of his superior skills. No, all Rangers were superior. The loss was completely capricious. Kathryn simply decided that loving Justin was worth the risk; she would cherish whatever time they had together. As it turned out, that time was painfully short.
But would Justin have agreed to place her in danger? Kathryn didn't think so. She remembered what he had said after his unit rescued her from the Cardassians: "I just knew I wasn't going to let them hurt you." No, he would not have agreed. Justin had been very protective of her. Perhaps he felt guilty about her involvement in the Urtea II mission. Perhaps he simply loved her that much and didn't know how else to express it. She smiled at how uncomplicated, how unrealistic, their youthful love had been. No, Justin probably was not a part of this lie. Probably not.
**************
Kathryn's eyes froze when they reached the header line of the next report. This was the file on Voyager's mission to the Badlands. The mission to capture the Maquis. The mission to rescue Tuvok. The mission that landed them here, now. It was this last fact that gave her pause. The other files were about missions long ago, decades old. If there were offenses Starfleet had committed against her in those files, they could be viewed with the objective detachment time affords. Bygones.
But what she would read in this file would impact her present. Probably her crew; possibly her ship. Moreover, whatever convenient lie of omission or commission Starfleet concocted had not been addressed to a green ensign or junior grade lieutenant. No, this would involve a lie to the captain of a Federation starship. This would mean the truth was withheld from a person responsible for the lives of her entire crew. This was...this was wrong; this was a betrayal. Should she read the file? She had to read it. She was the captain. She had to know the condition of her ship. Her vehicle. Her vessel. Her soul.
Starfleet Intelligence was horrified. Preliminary reports had been confirmed. A Maquis vessel a disappeared from the Badlands without a trace: no debris, no phaser energy residual, not even a warp signature trace. It was impossible; no known natural phenomenon could account for this. That left one likely explanation, a terrifying explanation: a new Cardassian weapon, and they were testing it on the Maquis.
The increased aggressiveness of the Cardassians was a continuing worry. Yes, a treaty was in place, but nobody in the upper echelon of Starfleet held any illusion that this pact would ensure security. It was clear that the Cardassians were mounting their forces, and using exercises against the Maquis to test new tactics and technologies. Oh, it was an imperfect testbed; the Maquis employed guerrilla tactics, and their ships and hardware were hardly state-of-the-art. But many of the Maquis were former Starfleet officers, employing Starfleet strategies and sensibilities. No, the test situation was not ideal, but it would suffice. And Cardassia was not ready to mount a full-scale attack on Federation space.
Or were they? That was what was so disturbing about this recent development. If the Cardassians possessed a means of such total destruction, it could well mean a significant shift in the balance of power. Starfleet had to know: what had really happened to that Maquis ship? It was a delicate situation. Starfleet could not simply cruise into the Badlands and mount an investigation; the area was under Cardassian jurisdiction. No, Starfleet needed a sound justification, a rationale that the Cardassian government must accept, if not approve.
In this regard, Starfleet had a possible opening. The Maquis, after all, were their enemy as well. Further, there had been a Starfleet operative, a Lieutenant Tuvok, on the Maquis ship that vanished. Starfleet could, quite legitimately, suspect foul play on the part of the Maquis. Yes, they had a right to investigate the disappearance of their officer--where had the Maquis taken him? Now Cardassia was over a barrel: either they admit that they had destroyed the Maquis ship, or they permit Starfleet to mount a mission to the Badlands.
The choice of which ship, which captain to send was not difficult. Voyager was the first fielded Intrepid-class vessel with bioneural circuitry. This could prove a critical advantage in negotiating the Badlands. The millisecond savings the gelpacks gave the control system could mean the difference between avoiding and impacting deadly obstacles. In fact, this mission could serve as the final, critical field test of this new technology. Further, the crew complement was relatively small. Not as small as a strike-force vessel, but Cardassia would protest if such a ship was sent. It had to be an explorer ship; that was what Starfleet sent on investigative missions. And Voyager was probably the smallest and most agile explorer ship in the fleet. Yes, Voyager was the right ship.
Was Janeway the right captain for the mission? Again, this was not a difficult decision. To replace her would raise suspicion; that was to be avoided. Besides, she was probably a good choice for the job anyway. True, she had limited experience in covert operations, but she would not be functioning as a covert operative. She would be functioning as a starship captain on a rescue mission. For that function, she was well trained and highly motivated. Very highly motivated. Tuvok was one of her oldest and closest friends in Starfleet. She knew his family, cared deeply about his welfare.
It was clear she hadn't fully approved when Tuvok accepted the mission to infiltrate the Maquis. It was, she had told him, "a remarkably reckless undertaking for a disciplined, Vulcan security officer." That was her public comment; in truth, she wasn't sure how much she believed in spying against the Maquis. True, by the terms of the peace accord, the Maquis were the recognized enemy of both the Federation and Cardassia. And there were mounting reports of Maquis attacks against Starfleet. But at some visceral level, she felt that many of the Maquis' actions were those of people who had been pushed too far back into a corner. And like the Maquis, she had no great love for the Cardassians. They had hurt her, they had hurt people she cared about. And although even she recognized the convolutions in her logic, she held them responsible for her Father's and Justin's deaths. Moreover, she knew that a number of the Maquis leaders were former 'Fleeters, Starfleet officers who had resigned their commissions to fight for "the enemy." That was not done lightly; that was done at a terrible personal cost. It was, simply, an ugly situation. None of this was what Starfleet should be about.
But Tuvok was a strong motivation. And Starfleet could diminish her other concerns. A number of the more vicious Maquis attacks, especially those against Starfleet personnel, had not been tied to a particular cell. In the absence of information to the contrary, well, there was really no reason that Captain Kathryn Janeway couldn't be led to believe that these atrocities had been committed by Chakotay's cell. It was not outside the realm of possibility, and it would improve her motivation: Tuvok in the hands of blood-thirsty Maquis.
So she would be motivated. And she was good, very good, at thinking on her feet. That would be a real asset for this mission; Starfleet wasn't at all sure what would happen out there. The best case scenario was that Janeway would find answers (if not the ship). Or possibly, the data from the covert sensors Starfleet Intelligence was piggy-backing on Voyager's arrays would provide the information they needed. The worst case? Cardassia would decide it was time to test their weapon on a more appropriate target: a Federation Starship. It would be a boldly aggressive act, but then, Cardassia was becoming increasingly bold and aggressive. And they could always blame the ship's destruction on the vicious natural phenomena of the Badlands, as they had with the Maquis ship. If this came to pass, Starfleet Intelligence could only hope that they recovered enough telemetry data to make the mission worth its cost.
For the best case scenario, Janeway was a good choice. She had the science and engineering background to ask the right questions. She also had excellent diplomat skills in dealing with the Cardassians; quite remarkable, actually, considering her experiences with them. In truth, she was effective in her dealings for two reasons. First, she was only able to interact with Cardassians by completely suppressing all her feelings; as a result, she revealed absolutely nothing in her negotiations other than what was conveyed in the verbal exchange. The Cardassians Guls tended to interpret this as a lack of guile, and so they trusted her. Why, it was almost like dealing with a Vulcan. Second, many of the Guls found interacting with women, especially Human women, greatly defused their natural aggression. It wasn't sexual, not really. It was more that dominant Cardassian males felt an instinctive competitiveness when dealing with another male; they could not dare make a concession, show a weakness. When interacting with a woman, that dominance stance was disarmed. They could actually be, much to Starfleet's amazement, reasonable--at least in the short term. Yes, Janeway would ensure that no inadvertent escalation occurred on this mission. And that was critical.
That left the worst case scenario. Was Janeway and her crew expendable? Was Voyager? Hardware first. It was never good to lose the first ship of a class, for reasons both technological (even after extensive testing and prototyping, a great deal is learned during initial field operations) and psychological (the design is seen as a failure; future crews regard the ships as deathtraps). But for reasons already considered, Voyager was the right ship for the mission. It could be replaced if necessary.
Could the crew be replaced? Largely, yes. Voyager's crew was highly competent and fiercely loyal to Janeway; certainly good qualities to have, but hardly unique in Starfleet. Probably the most uniquely talented crew member, excluding the captain, was Tuvok. It was unusual to have a Vulcan dedicate himself to security; most Vulcans in Starfleet pursued Science or Engineering, a handful chose Command. And Tuvok brought a unusual perspective to bear, having served in Starfleet under Captain Sulu during Starfleet's "cowboy" days as well as in the current era. But Tuvok was already lost; he was not a factor that need be considered in the decision process.
Janeway presented an interesting case. She, too, brought an unusual mix of talents to her position--a background in science and engineering prior to pursuing command track. And she was a Starfleet legacy; her father had been an admiral, a highly valued ship designer. Born wearing Starfleet diapers, as the saying went. Janeway was a good captain; it would be a shame to lose her.
But truth be told, there were few Starfleet captains who wouldn't be a shame to lose. And Starfleet had to be realistic about the developing situation. The Federation was going to go to war with Cardassia. It was really only a question of when, not if. So pragmatic choices had to be made about which officers were most valuable in light of current events.
Captains of Federation starships served three roles: explorer/scientist, ambassador, and warrior. These were the three implicit pillars of Starfleet, and the weight of importance shifted among the three depending on the fortunes of the Federation. As the Federation moved towards war, the demands on 'Fleet captains shifted away from explorer/scientist: first to diplomat, then to warrior. Sometime, as with the Borg invasion, the shift didn't really bother stopping at the diplomat leg.
Janeway was an exemplary explorer/scientist. She was born to the role and obviously relished it. This was, to her mind, the most inspiring of Starfleet's "trinity" of goals, and she embraced it fully. But when the war came, science and exploration (unless it contributed to the war effort) would be put on a back burner. Janeway was a most competent diplomat, very effective with the Cardassians. But truth be told, Starfleet suspected the time for diplomacy with Cardassia was coming to an end. So that left warrior. Was Janeway a valuable warrior? This was a harder call.
On several occasions, Janeway had demonstrated a genuine talent for battle. But never had she demonstrated a taste for battle. It was obvious that she gained no pleasure from her victories; she clearly saw her military actions as an unpleasant necessity, nothing more. The debriefs of her battle encounters, both planned and inadvertent, showed her to be a clever strategist and inventive tactician. It was obvious that she could generalize her problem solving skills from technical goals to military ones. But it was equally evident that she did so with reluctance, perhaps even regret.