Disclaimer: Voyager and her crew belong to Paramount - so does Naomi Wildman. Most of the children in the story, as well as the aliens and the planet, belong to me. Thanks to the author of "Mama Kate and Papa Chakotay" for creating the name Mama Kate. I'm sorry not to list your name, but when I went back to find the story I'd read so long ago, I couldn't locate it again. If you wrote the story, mail me!
Background information (sounds dull, but read it anyway): Naomi Wildman is about ten years old at the beginning of this story. Katie and Michael are six and two months (respectively), the children of Tom and B'Elanna Paris. Christopher and Brandon are six-year-old twins belonging to the Ayalas. Alixia is the daughter of Harry and Seven Kim, and is named after her godfather's favorite sister. She is four years old. Phillip is three years old and the son of Freddie Bristow (yeah, he finally gave up on B'Elanna and found someone else.) Mary (3), Jonathan (2), and Sarah (six months) belong to Crewman Schnitz and Megan Delaney.
Captain Janeway awoke very slowly. It was hot. That came first. Even in her state of disorientation, her child came next. Not quite realizing why she was doing so, she held her breath and waited through several seconds of agonizing stillness until something fluttered inside her stomach. A sigh of relief - the child was all right. Next came a dim memory: Voyager. An attack. Something about aliens - they had penetrated the shields easily, been on board before Tuvok had a chance to prepare his security teams. They'd reached the bridge. Shots were fired. Janeway gathered her energy and lifted her eyelids only to be greeted by a dark and shadow-infested bridge. Only with a deep moan was she able to twist her body up and out from under the fallen debris where she'd taken shelter. Her legs barely held her weight. As she swayed, her mind finally came into focus.
The ship stank of battle. Blood, flesh, and smoke filled her nostrils. Memories came sharply, like a bolt of lightening rather than a flood. An alien had ripped her phaser rifle from her arms before hurling her to the ground. One at a time she'd been forced to watch as her crew fell to the writhing energy of the alien soldiers' weapons as other operatives stripped the ship. Now, she realized, she would have to step over their bodies to cross the bridge. A step forward - the pain, combined with the overwhelming stench and shock of the crew's fate, forced her to vomit. To let her grief overwhelm her was not an option, though it was all she wanted to do. She had to know if she was the only one left.
Finding a tricorder in the rubble was as hopeless as finding a working console. Instead, she steeled her nerves and her stomach to reach down to those who still had enough flesh to do so and check for a pulse. Nothing. Few of the bodies were recognizable; Tom's was one of them. Beneath him was another body, a burnt hand clutching an engineering kit. They'd managed to die together; it gave her some sense of satisfaction.
Her spine straightened and she forced herself to walk forward to the emergency access tube. A body was halfway inside, obviously killed in his attempt to escape. With gritted teeth and trembling arms she pulled him to the floor and onto his back. The face was badly burned, perhaps in an explosion, but the uniform was intact; three gold circles, as polished as on the day she'd given them, adorned his collar.
Chakotay.
She allowed herself a single tear. No more. With a second would have come a third, and she knew she would have laid down beside him and let death claim her. Quickly she reached to the golden insignia and tore them from his collar. She reattached them in a row just beside her communicator, over her heart, and crawled down the tube and through his blood while she still could.
Sickbay first. If there was anyone with much chance of survival, that was where they would be. If, by some miracle, the Doctor was still on line he would repair her wounds; if not, she would find what she could to do it herself. On the way she stopped at each deck searching for bodies. Though she knew in her heart that she would find nothing, she checked each one for life. Deck two, the mess hall: Neelix was there, with several of the crew who had come for an early dinner. Even in death, she was convinced she could see in his face a bit of cheer. It sustained her. Deck three and four only held more death. She nearly did not stop at deck five, until she remembered.
The children. The children were there. Heart pounding, she leapt over crew laying in the halls as she made her way to the schoolroom and nursery, frantic to see, to know if perhaps they had been spared the fate of the others - and then, absurdly, she froze at the door. She couldn't do it. Captain Janeway - who had faced the Kazon, the Hirogen, the Borg, and countless other species, who had watched and recovered from the deaths of her father and fiancée, who had spent days in a Cardassian prison cell listening to the screams of her mentor and friend, who had destroyed the Array and with it all hope of getting home in her lifetime, and who had so far endured the death of her entire crew and her beloved Chakotay - could not bring herself to walk through the doorway of a children's schoolroom. She must have stood there for several minutes, although it seemed as though she was suspended in time. The fear-frozen woman stood at the door, incapable of entering, yet unable to walk away. And then she heard it.
A small, weak cry. Kathryn started to walk forward, but the door would not open. The console only buzzed at her touch, and after a moment, she lost even that. Fueled by the superhuman strength of a mother-to-be, she shoved her fingers into the crack and pried the metal doors apart. At first, she saw nothing but darkness - the light in the room was even dimmer than in the corridor. Then there was nothing but small bodies curled up on the ground. For a moment, her heart ceased its work and she came quite close to losing her mind - but the largest of the bodies twitched, uncurled, and stretched, and a girl with tiny blue ridges looked up. Naomi Wildman shouted with glee. "Captain! Captain!" The other children quickly awoke from their slumber and those who could ran to her. The smaller babies began to scream and cry as Kathryn fell to the ground and embraced the children. She sobbed, and the children cried - a hundred happy tears fell to the deck. "Thank God," Kathryn whispered. "Thank God. Thank God."
***
Several moments passed before Kathryn stood. Giving the children a comforting smile, she led them over to the babies' playpen. She lifted six-month-old Sarah Delaney. Megan had insisted that all three of her children use her name; she refused to let any of her children go by the name Schnitz. "Naomi," she said seriously, "I need you to do something very important for me."
"What is it?" asked Naomi, wide-eyed.
"I need you to take Sarah. From now on, unless I say otherwise, Sarah is your responsibility. Whenever we go somewhere, it's your job to make sure that Sarah is with us. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes," the little girl said solemnly. "I will."
"Good." After giving Naomi a thankful smile, she pulled little Michael Paris from the playpen and held her in her own arms. At only two months, he was the most recent addition to the crew. She stopped herself from remembering the boy's birth; it was too early to remember her crew without tears, and she couldn't afford to frighten the children.
"Now," Kathryn went on, "there is something I have to tell you all. Some very bad people came to our ship. They have done many bad things here. The ship has stopped working." She chose her next words carefully, trying to make her message clear without causing the children to panic. "We are probably going to have to leave. First, we're going to go to sickbay to see if the Doctor is there. Then, we are going to get on an escape pod and fly to a planet near here."
"What about Mommy and Daddy?" asked little Alixia Kim. "Will they come?"
It was a question best left unanswered, for now. "The aliens were very, very bad. When we go out into the corridor to get to sickbay, you will see some very scary things. I want you to know that even though you might be frightened, if we stay together, we will be okay."
"The aliens shot people," Brandon Ayala added softly. "I saw them shoot my Mommy. Then they brought me here." Kathryn gathered him up in a hug. That, at least, explained how all the children arrived here. The aliens didn't kill children. It probably explained why they had left the captain alive, as well - her rounded belly made it clear she was expecting. *Ethical murderers,* she thought bitterly.
Kathryn bit her lip and took a deep breath. "Now, I want you all to line up holding hands in the order I tell you. Can you do that?" The children nodded. "Jonathan Delaney first, then Brandon and Mary. Go ahead." Brandon pulled himself together and took Jonathan's hand on one side and Mary's on the other. "Then Christopher and Phillip and Katie. Next Alixia and Naomi last, with Sarah." The children lined up quickly. This was something they'd been taught by their schoolteachers for a very long time, in case of an emergency just like this one. "Good. Everyone hang onto the person next to you no matter what, all right? Especially you older ones - hold onto the littler ones." She'd intentionally put them in an order that put each young child between two older. She took her place at the front of the line, grabbing Jonathan's little hand, still with Michael in her arms. Kathryn and the children started out into the corridor.
***
The older ones quickly gasped and cried as they saw what was there. Christopher, a small boy who had since his birth taken everything to heart, was nearing hysterical. "Come on, crew," she declared. "I know you can be strong for me. We're nearly there." She hoped desperately that they could hold together for just a few more minutes. They did not disappoint her.
The sickbay doors, thankfully, were already slightly open. She squeezed through the opening, and the children followed. No bodies cluttered the sickbay - no one had had the time to get that far. She motioned for the children to sit down and noticed an odd beeping sound, almost like . . . a PADD alarm! The sound came from one of the biostasis chambers. After lifting the top, she found a treasure trove the aliens had missed. A PADD, tricorder, hypospray, and dermal regenerator lay inside. The PADD was a message from the Doctor, addressed to her.
Captain,
If you are reading this message, you obviously have awakened from your state of unconsciousness. In case you have not yet realized it, the alien force has spared the children. It appears that they have been deposited in the schoolroom. I was in my mobile unit when the attack began, so I was able to stay active until the power of my emitter ran out. Unfortunately, the radiation in the corridors kept me from exiting sickbay, so I was unable to treat any victims of the invasion. However, through my valiant efforts, I was able to finally access what is left of the computer enough to discern that you and the children still showed life signs. I also have managed to convert what power was left in the ship - as well as most of the power reserved in my emitter - to life support, providing you an extra day or so on board Voyager. I suggest that you launch an escape pod and head for the nearest M-class planet. When you get there, use this hypospray to induce your labor immediately. Although you are not quite to term, your child will most likely survive the birth and this will allow you to start giving milk so you can feed not only your own child, but Michael and Sarah as well.
I wish you luck in your endeavors, Captain. As Commander Tuvok would say, "Live long and prosper."
the Doctor
Blinking back tears, Kathryn quickly treated her injuries and those of the children, grasping the hypospray before leaving again with the children in tow. The escape pod was not far from sickbay, and although there were more people on board than was recommended, the weight of the children was not too much for the tiny vessel. When the pod was clear of the ship, she turned to the children.
"There is something I have to tell you," she started. *No reason to beat around the bush - they'll have to know.* "What Brandon said about the aliens is true. They did shoot people. Every adult on Voyager except me was shot. No one lived."
Kathryn had a difficult time swallowing her tears. The children were silent - even the littlest ones seemed to perceive the horrible tone of her words. "You mean," said Katie at last, "Mommy and Daddy are gone?" Kathryn nodded. Several of the children started to cry. Katie reached up to her godmother, but it wasn't comfort she wanted - Kathryn handed Katie her tiny brother, and the two settled on the floor. Kathryn waited until the pod was a safe distance away from Voyager and stopped it.
Slowly she turned to the children, knowing that if she didn't explain it properly, what she was about to do was likely to devastate them. "Look at me a minute," she said softly. "Do you children remember a few weeks ago when Crewman Peters died?" Several of them nodded. "What did we do?"
"You put him in a box and let him float out," Brandon sniffled.
Kathryn nodded. At any other time, the image of Crewman Peters floating up and out of a box would have made her chuckle, but not now. "That's called a burial in space. We do it to show how much the person meant to us. Everyone on that ship meant a lot to us, didn't they?" A few soft yes's echoed. "We can't go back and bury everyone because there are too many people, and it's dangerous to be on Voyager anymore. So instead, we're going to show how much we love them in a different way."
"How?" This, surprisingly, came from Christopher Ayala, the quietest of the group.
"I'm going to destroy Voyager. And when Voyager explodes, every body on it will, too. That way the tiny parts of the crew will always float around in space, almost like a burial." This explanation was the best she could do for them. Maybe someday she would explain about technology, and Starfleet regulations, and her true reasons.
Remarkably, they seemed to accept her explanation. "And there's one more thing we do for them. We all stand up, we're very quiet, and we look straight at the ship while it explodes. You'll have to be very strong to do that. Can you do it?" Again, soft yes's.
The escape pod only had a one feeble phaser, but Voyager's condition made it painfully clear that it would be enough. Once all were standing, Captain Kathryn Janeway targeted the warp core and fired. As her ship died, the captain in her died as well. The flames cooled and disappeared. Nothing was left of Voyager but the woman who had led her . . .
. . . and ten children.
***
The weeks following the loss of Voyager were difficult, to say the least. Kathryn had spent the first day on the planet gathering edible berries and plants for the children, then put Naomi in charge and induced labor. She knew this would be one of the few opportunities they would have to see this miracle, unless or until they had their own, so she allowed them all to watch. Naomi was given a crash course in labor coaching and cutting the umbilical cord. Kathryn realized the enormous pressure she was putting on the little girl, but the latter seemed to thrive on the responsibility. At Christopher's suggestion, the newest little one was named for their lost home. Sarah, Michael, and the tiny Voyager were all eager for a meal, the first two having cried for days before at last being fed.
Kathryn and eleven children made their home in a large cave covered in front by vines and branches of the trees that had nearly hid it. Inside it was warm, dry, and completely empty. Bedding and blankets could only be made by weaving thin leaves together; Christopher and Brandon were assigned to this task and were surprisingly successful. Especially Christopher would sometimes sit for hours, weaving in and out with his tongue perched just outside his mouth. He reminded Kathryn of herself, minus some of the outward stubbornness. Kathryn gathered the food with little Katie's help. Naomi's job was to be the "big sister", taking over childcare while Kathryn was out doing one thing or another. Unfortunately, the woman never got far from the cave without Naomi shouting, "Mama Kate! The babies are hungry!"
The children had taken to calling her Mama Kate after little Alixia had observed that she didn't act much like a captain anymore. Aunt Kathryn worked for about two days until Brandon slipped and started to call her "Mommy." After that, Mama Kate had seemed the natural next step.
The babies presented the biggest problem. Kathryn had managed to find a plant to treat diaper rash, but diapers were impossible. Even with all the older children pitching in, diapers simply couldn't be made as quickly as they were used. Jonathan Delaney, at two and a half, had to be toilet trained out of necessity. Of course, that was a little different now, too; Mary and Phillip, both three years old, had had quite a bit of trouble learning to go outside rather than searching for a bathroom. Eventually, Kathryn decided there was only one thing to be done. She removed her Starfleet jacket and turtleneck and fashioned them into tiny washable undergarments. It gave new meaning to the saying, "grew up wearing Starfleet diapers."
The tricorder the Doctor had provided them allowed Kathryn to scan for dangerous life forms. There were few, and none were sentient. Big cats and something resembling a bear had been seen across the river, but they seemed reluctant to cross. After deciding there was little or no danger, Kathryn took the children on weekly exploring trips through the forest.
It was during one of these trips that Kathryn's life and purpose was changed. After the birth of Voyager (who, for no particular reason, was nicknamed Bess), responsibility for Michael was turned over to his older sister. When the group embarked upon one of their excursions, the children still walked in a line behind their Mama Kate, in the same order they had that last day on Voyager. The forest was beautiful, especially in the morning. Nearly every night the rain fell, so the trees glistened when they left for the daylong adventure. Sun trickling through the thick, wet branches sprayed rainbows all over the rocky ground. Kathryn often found herself glancing back to the children to watch the rainbows pass over their young faces as they walked.
On this particular trip, they had decided to look for as many little animals as they could find and catalogue them in the tricorder. Christopher had been given the privilege of operating the instrument, and he was enchanted. Mama Kate examined and explained each primate and insect the children found, and Christopher entered the data into the tricorder. She was bent down, arm around Jonathan, gesturing to a caterpillar while juggling Bess when she detected a low growl - much to low to belong to any of the little animals native to this side of the river. She handed Bess to Brandon and uttered one word to the children, "Silence." Turning, Kathryn found herself only a few feet away from a hissing, glaring wildcat.
The cat was dark, shaggy, and soaking wet. Kathryn realized that the cat had likely tumbled into the river and now was looking for someone to take her anger out on. Muscles tensed, beast and woman circled each other slowly and surely. When the animal howled, Kathryn found herself baring her teeth and imitating the sound. Keeping her eyes focused on the cat's, Kathryn crouched and clutched a sharp piece of bark split off in a recent storm. The beast stopped and coiled for the charge. When it came, it was not toward Kathryn, but the children. With a scream louder and harsher than those of the little ones, she dove in front of the cat and allowed her body to take the entire weight of the beast and the power of its pounce. The two rolled as the children scattered into the trees. The animal's massive claws tore into her arm, forcing her to lay still. The woman watched as the beast licked its jowls, obviously preparing to toy with her prey. Miraculously, the cat was distracted for an instant when a loud whistle emerged from the woods. *Christopher,* she thought. None of the other children could whistle like that. Kathryn rolled herself and the cat over and stabbed the wood she had barely been able to retain and shoved it gracelessly into the wildcat's heart.
The beast howled and Kathryn stood, ready for a second attack. It struggled to its legs, wavered a moment, and slumped to the ground. With a final, stubborn growl, the cat was dead.
"Mama Kate?" The question came timidly, and rightly so. Her clothes were torn and filthy, and she clutched a bleeding arm. Kathryn fell to her knees and looked up to see the children hesitating at the edges of the clearing.
"I'm all right. Come on - she can't hurt us anymore." Eleven children crept into the clearing, staring in awe at the giant cat.
"Wow," whispered Brandon. "You did it, Mama Kate. You killed it."
His brother approached her. "You fought a wildcat, Mama Kate."
She smiled. "Yes, I suppose I did."
"Why?" The question surprised her for two reasons. First, she would have assumed that at his age, Christopher would just assume that any adult would protect him against anything. Second, she realized that she hadn't considered any "why" when she'd fought the cat. It was simple instinct, and now she suddenly knew why she'd done it.
She answered him without hesitation. "Because I couldn't let her hurt my babies, that's why."
His childishness shone through again, to her relief. "Silly Mama Kate. We're not babies." She tousled his hair, and the mother led her children home.
***
three years later . . .
Seven-year-old Alixia and nine-year-old Brandon tossed a ball back and forth in the middle of the clearing. Alixia's black hair and blue eyes glittered in the sunshine, the effect magnified by her glowing happiness. Katie and Naomi, ever the "big sisters" of the group, patiently helped Sarah, Jonathan, Michael, and Bess climb on and off a particularly low branch over and over. Christopher sat off to the side furiously pushing buttons on their one and only PADD, which he seemed to regard as his own outside of school hours. Six-year-olds Mary and Phillip, best friends and never apart, were dashing about. Mary was trying desperately to keep away from Phillip, who was chasing her as quickly as her could when he stumbled over a stone and fell with a cry. The little girl stopped and turned as soon as she heard and rushed back to Phillip. For a moment she looked him over to make sure he was okay, embraced him, then ran off with a "You're still It!" He was up and running.
Their Mama Kate, of course, was not far away and had witnessed the entire scene. She had, in fact, been just about to go to Phillip when they'd started their game again. If it had been any of the other children, she would have been up right away, but she knew that Mary and Phillip could be quite indignant about their ability to take care of each other. Kathryn turned back to her cooking.
That was one skill she had been forced to learn. Katie was more hopeless in the kitchen than she was, Naomi was afraid of the fire, Christopher took hours trying to achieve perfection, and Brandon was entirely too reckless. She still wasn't sure Alixia was old enough, so it left her to prepare all the meals for the twelve inhabitants of the planet. Potatoes, or the equivalent of them, were on the menu for their cookout, and Kathryn was presently digging a pit next to the fire so they could be baked. She looked up from the dirty chore at the sounds or shouting.
Somehow, in their playing, Mary and Phillip had ended up in the middle of Alixia and Brandon's game of catch. An argument had broken out and Naomi had attempted to play mediator, leaving Katie alone with the four littlest children, who appeared to be overwhelming her. No doubt it was time for Mama Kate to be referee.
"What's going on here?" The children froze and put on guilty faces. Small as she was, their Mama Kate seemed awfully big to the children, and her "captain's stance" was as intimidating as ever.
"I tried, Mama Kate, honest," started Naomi.
"It's all right, honey. Go help Katie." Naomi seemed relieved to get out of the lecture, and dashed over to rescue Katie from the four little ones. "Now, who's going to explain what's going on here?"
Mary's lip quivered. "Mama Kate, Alixia says boys and girls can't be best friends. She says girls have to have girl best friends and boys have to have boy best friends."
"Oh, does she?" Alixia looked guilty. There was no doubt in Kathryn's mind what had happened. Her game interrupted, Alixia had said the first thing she could to hurt the feelings of her little siblings. It may have been Katie and Michael who had the Klingon ancestry, but it was Alixia who was known for her temper. "Come here, you two."
Phillip and Mary crawled into her lap, and Brandon and Alixia sat down on the grass across from them. "Now, Alixia's right in a way."
"She is?" Phillip asked worriedly.
"I am?" Alixia seemed equally surprised.
"Well," Kathryn continued, "usually girls are best friends and boys are best friends. But not always. It's okay to be a little different. And even if it is a little different for you two to be best friends, it's also different for children to have a Mama and no Daddy, and for twelve people to live on a planet all by themselves, and we do that, don't we?"
"Uh huh," Mary nodded. She was very serious.
"And as long as you love each other, and you get along, and you're happy, nobody ought to ever be able to tell you you can't be together."
Mary looked at Alixia and stuck out her tongue.
"The truth is, the two most important things in life are your friends and your family. And if those are the same people, good for you! I hope you always stay best friends."
By now, the littler two were laying back in her lap holding hands. Alixia had her head bowed guiltily, and Brandon was clearly bored. "Can we play ball again?" he asked.
"Can all four of you play nicely?" she inquired.
Brandon looked ready to object, but Alixia nodded and grabbed Mary's hand. "Come on, everybody!" Once the little girl decided she was going to do something, she did it.
All disasters averted for the moment, Kathryn turned back to her potatoes. Dinner would be a little late tonight, and the bread might be a little burned, but it didn't matter.