Q ex Machina
by Liz Barr
June 2001
J, Q
rated [PG-13]
post-Endgamesummary: a coda to "Endgame" and a bookend of sorts to "All Good Things"
characters: not mine
feedback: to elizabeth_barr@yahoo.com.au
homepage: http://www.oocities.org/elizabeth_barr/I liked "Endgame". It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't bad, and that's pretty much what I expected from Voyager anyway. But there are definitely things which warrant further explanation…
With assimilation came pain. She had forgotten how awful the process was. She always forgot the pain, remembering only the anger, the adrenaline, the triumph. She had been assimilated three times, but she always forgot the pain.
The last time had almost been a failure. She'd spent four months as a drone before waking in sickbay to find Chakotay, the Doctor and a security team surrounding her biobed.
She'd promised Chakotay that she'd stop, but she couldn't leave the Borg behind. How could she, when they were closer than family? So she found other methods, which would be called safer if it weren't the Borg they were talking about. And eventually, she had found the data node, realised what it meant. Her promise didn't mean anything in this timeline. The last twenty-six years were meaningless, and her promises were nothing but vapour.
Despite that knowledge, she'd found another way to defeat the Borg, assuring herself that she was keeping the letter of her promise.
Now, of course, it was hanging in tatters, as damaged as the rest of her life. But she had no choice. She never had a choice, and the fact that it was her younger self manipulating her this time made it no less galling. Still, if this worked …
The pain faded, replaced by adrenaline and the faint hum of the Collective. And the Queen, that familiar caress.
Chakotay had accused her of obsession. He'd roused himself from his grief to dissuade her from her final attempt. She hadn't listened, never really listened, even when he called her selfish. Said that she was a fool. That she was trying to find his dead wife in the Queen.
Fine. So she was a selfish old fool, and Seven's death had been as hard on her as on him. If this risk, this final gamble worked, none of it would matter. Voyager would get home, deaths would be averted and the timeline restored. No small compensation for the pain of one last assimilation.
Cursing her body's weakness, she pulled herself to her feet and watched, dispassionately as the Queen died. She'd seen too many dying Queens to feel more than mild revulsion. The last Queen, constructed from Kathryn's own DNA … *her* death had been hard to watch. For an insane moment, she'd thought of saving her, rehabilitating another cyborg almost-daughter. Then she'd realised that was exactly what the Collective wanted, and walked away.
Never mind, she consoled herself. It wouldn't happen again.
She felt the heat of the hub's explosion, felt the flames lick her hair and skin. Then it was all gone, and she was cool and whole and human.
"Well done, Madam Admiral. Another masterful performance."
She turned. "Q. I should have known you were involved. There were too many loose ends, things which didn't fit together." He smiled, acknowledging his part. "Did it work?"
He tilted his head, listening to something beyond her perception.
"Your little ship is home. The timeline is restored."
For the first time in years, she relaxed. "Thank God."
"Him, too, I suppose."
Kathryn looked around for the first time. She was in her apartment in San Francisco. "Is this my afterlife?" she asked.
"That would be premature. Also, since you changed the timeline, *you* technically never existed."
"And yet I'm here. Surely the Continuum will have something to say about that."
"How can they, when I'm talking to someone who never existed?"
She smiled at him. So strange, to be free from the burdens of her life. No more pretense, no more games.
"What will happen now?"
"To your crew? They'll meander through their lives, worrying about their careers and their mating games and the first signs of baldness. And they'll die, all in their own time."
"And the others? Korath, and Miral? Sabrina?"
"All as it should be, Madam Admiral."
"And—"
"Yes, Chuckles and the Borglet as well. All dealing with the petty concerns of humanity, which you have so generously bestowed upon them."
"I was actually asking about the Collective," she whispered. "And me."
Q patted her on the arm, reminding her of the dogs she'd once had. Lifetimes ago.
"They *were* becoming hard to separate, weren't they? Although I must say, your hologram was becoming rather good at hiding the evidence." She glared at him. "The Collective has been damaged. Not destroyed, but crippled. Even in twenty years, the Queen won't have the resources to tinker around with the timeline. No messages to her past selves in the delta quadrant, no helpful tips for delaying Voyager's return to the delta quadrant. It's all restored. You've bought the alpha quadrant another generation of security, and Voyager's return means that the precious Federation will have the resources to defeat them when they return."
"And … and me?"
"Yes, what about the noble Captain Kathryn, left all alone while her angry warrior lines up for assimilated bliss?"
"Dammit, Q!" She dropped her voice. "Don't. Make. Fun. Of me."
"Oh, Kathy…" He moved to touch her face, but she grabbed his arms and held them immobile. He leaned forward, so that she could feel his breath on her skin. "There are a lot of options for an intelligent, brave, beautiful woman who has time to let go and enjoy her life."
"And does she? Have time?"
Q kissed her, almost lovingly. "All the time in the world."
END
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Copyright © 2001 Elizabeth M. Barr
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