Epilogue

I arrived on the Logan with nothing but my name.

My only contact with Starfleet was when I resigned.  I thought 
Kathryn would be angry with me, but she only nodded solemnly and 
said she understood why I would not want to return to Earth.  There 
is now an investigation into my kidnapping, she said, but I'm sure 
that Nachayev will make sure it isn't handled well.

Tom tells me that Janeway and Rand have become friends.  I hope 
Kathryn learns everything.  I could only tell her what I saw in my 
last official report, and once again, my memory is lacking.  The fact 
that the Akoonah was controlled by an outside source and a 
description of a woman and a man both dressed in black are all I 
could contribute.  Another blow to the head.

Tom told me what I seem to have done with Sehm, or Detin Fahl, or 
whatever his name is, and I can only wonder what I was thinking.  
Vague pictures of myself in the pod with him are starting to come 
back, but it's hard to say if I'll ever know what happened.

Tom talks to Janeway and to his friend Mack.  Through him I hear 
that Harry has taken a captaincy, with Siral as his first officer and 
Srinak as chief of medicine.  He even managed to get Enid Banta as 
Chief Engineer.  I'm happy for him, but I do not envy him.  I do not 
miss the demanding burden of command.

On the Logan I do what is needed, but not what is expected.  Nothing 
is expected of me.  I have never had such freedom.

Seven of Nine and Ba'ruq offered to build another Akoonah for me, 
but I refused.  I make my visions the old way, by fasting and 
wakefulness, and only when I truly need them.  Somehow they are 
deeper than those that come from an "hallucinogenic device," but 
always waiting for me, somewhere in the Dreamtime, is a pile of 
feathers and a pot of melted wax.

I told Tom that Seven and Ba'ruq will be lovers, but he does not 
believe me.  It doesn't bother me, what he believes or does not 
believe.  We share quarters, and in my inner sight I know we share a 
heart.  We do not always share the same version of the truth, but we 
never have.  It doesn't matter.

Like my guide and my totem the snake, I have shed my skin again.  
Truth has changed again.  It will change yet again, and perhaps I will 
find a way to make wings of my own.  There is no hurry.

I need nothing but my name and my heart. 

For now.