Captain Kathryn Janeway died today. We'd only been home a month. It wasn't a violent death. She passed away peacefully and painlessly in the end and her star will now shine in the heavens each night.
I mourn her passing, but if I'm honest, I believe she was already dying…had been losing her struggle to live for many years. She hung on just long enough to get her crew home and see them settled…and then she let go.
Starfleet mourned her loss too. Her portrait will hang in the hallowed halls of Headquarters, a figure for future generations to emulate. Those who knew her will speak of her occasionally…some in hushed tones…others in booming voices in an effort to share some of her glory. Yet more will whisper and wonder…never having known her nor met her. They'll listen to the stories and nod admiringly in all the right places before she passes from their minds to be replaced with their plans for the evening.
And what of me? Unlike so many who claim it, I knew her well. I knew the great Captain Janeway. I served under her for seven long years as her First Officer.
I was there when she died. In fact, I witnessed her death. And I find myself wondering what life will be like without her.
So, Captain Janeway is dead. All that's left is Kathryn…the woman finally able to come to me…the woman finally free of the burdens of Starfleet…the wonderful, beautiful woman I married today. She resigned from Starfleet so we could devote our lives to each other.
Captain Janeway is dead. And I wouldn't have it any other way.