Protocols Unknown: A Decision of The Stars

The End

The farmhouse was still. Not quite the way starships were quiet, with their humming cores and disciplined silence, but truly still, the kind of silence that only existed where no one was listening. Except her.

She was just over eighteen months old now. She toddled sometimes, five or six steps at most, before dropping back to a crawl. The quietest she ever got was when the light on the wall blinked blue. It had been almost three months since they had left Voyager, since the game had ended and the world had changed shape again.

In the small bedroom off the hallway, Astrea sat on the rug with her legs curled beneath her, one hand outstretched, waiting.

The air shimmered. A soft blue glow blinked to life, casting gentle shadows across the walls. And then, her mother's voice. Not Kathryn in uniform, but softer. Hologram-soft. The kind of voice programmed not with orders but with lullabies.

Astrea didn't blink.

"Hi, Mama," she whispered, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

On the projection, Kathryn moved to a recliner near a wide viewport. She shifted the small bundle in her arms, baby Astrea, fast asleep, into the crook of her elbow, then reached for the old book beside her.

The cover was frayed, the pages slightly translucent from use. Tennyson. Her favourite.

Kathryn didn't look at Astrea.

"Though much is taken, much abides..."

Her voice was quiet and grounded, anchoring herself to the words, to the baby in her arms.

"We are not now that strength which in old days... Moved earth and heaven..."

She paused. Then looked down.

The recording softened, dimming gently at the edges, as if coded by emotion.

Kathryn smoothed a hand across the baby's hair, kissed the crown of her head.

"That which we are, we are... One equal temper of heroic hearts..."

Astrea leaned forward, her head tipping sideways onto her shoulder, eyes fixed on the light.

She knew every word by now. But still, she waited.

"To strive. To seek. To find. And not to yield."

The moment faded, the hologram holding just long enough for one last glimpse, Kathryn leaning back in the chair, eyes closed, the baby sleeping against her chest.

Then silence again.

Astrea didn't move, only swayed slightly, her thumb brushing the edge of her bear's ear, still watching where the light had been.

A soft chime sounded. The projection restarted.

Outside the door, Kashyk waited. He could hear the poetry, the breath between lines. He knew the words now too, by cadence if not by memory. And he waited.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty more.

Eventually, Astrea's eyelids fluttered, her bear clutched tight to her chest.

The light faded again.

Kashyk stepped inside and crossed the room slowly. He didn't speak.

Astrea was asleep.

He scooped her up carefully, her weight familiar in his arms. She stirred once but did not wake.

He tucked the bear beside her as he laid her gently into the bed, smoothing her hair with one quiet hand.