Chakotay couldn't sleep. Again. He rolled onto his left side and stared at this medicine bundle on the shelf. It brought him no solace. He rolled onto his right side and tried shutting his dry and scratchy eyes. To no avail. He lay on his back again and meditated on the blankness of the ceiling. He heard a rustling sound coming from next door and knew Kathryn was finally done reading reports and had decided to give her body the rest it so badly needed. He knew she must be removing her uniform in preparation for her shower. First the jacket. Then the pants and the turtleneck. Her creamy skin would appear almost luminescent in the subdued light of her cabin. What would she be wearing underneath? Satin? No, lace. Black? Probably not; more likely peach—above and below. She'd reach behind her back and release the clasp of her bra and her breasts would spring free. Suddenly chilled, her nipples would harden to tight little nubs. He could almost see her lightly running her palms over her breasts and surrounding her newly-found nakedness before reaching a finger down to slip off her tiny panties. Chakotay reached his hand down, inside his boxer shorts to caress his own… nothing. He was limp. More than limp. Lifeless. Usually when he thought of Kathryn like this, he instantly grew hard. Now, even when he fondled it, his penis refused to cooperate.
Abruptly he stood, stomped over to the corner of his
room, and threw on the loose cotton pants he tossed there earlier.
He knew he wouldn’t have to worry about wearing these flimsy pants
tonight. After yanking the
drawstring and kicking on his sandals, he grabbed his medicine bundle and left.
Hours later, he was still searching, trying to find a
place where he could meditate and successfully enter a vision quest.
Cargo bay 1, the Jeffries tubes, engineering, sickbay, the conference
room, the brig, even the airponics bay. They
were all the same ghostly shells of the places he knew.
No matter where he went, his spirit guide was
unreachable. And he was so troubled
as of late. He wondered if the
spirits were so cold-hearted they could forsake him in a time of such great
need. At least he'd have the chance
to get away tomorrow.
"I don't know about you, Ensign, but I'll be
happy to be eating something other than leeola root stew for a change,"
Chakotay said, as he keyed a course correction into the shuttle's helm.
He was still fatigued, but in better spirits.
"Leeola root has a variety uses outside of being
a nutritionally complete foodstuff. The
outermost fibrous covering contains a variety of lipids and weak acids that can
be made into an excellent soap," the ensign said.
Chakotay looked at the officer sitting beside him in
the shuttlecraft. When he saw the duty roster this morning, he did not
recognize the name of the man assigned to the away mission. When he got to the shuttlecraft, Ensign Straker was already
sitting in the co-pilot's seat running through the pre-flight check.
After talking with him, Chakotay discovered Straker was self-assured to
the point of cockiness, but he had a strange sort of charm that Chakotay was
drawn to.
"Since they’re indigestible," Straker
continued, "we just throw the husk away, but they are one of the most
useful parts of the plant."
"So, you actually make this Leola root soap on
the ship?"
He nodded.
Chakotay added, "So, what exactly do you do on
the ship?"
"I do the ship’s recycling."
Chakotay smiles, "How fitting.
What would I do it if I wanted some of this soap?"
Tarran reached into his travel satchel and produced a
small paper card. “All you have to do is get in touch."
The mission had gone well, the Captain was pleased,
and he was getting some well-deserved rest.
Maybe not rest. His insomnia had stolen him from the real world and now he
could only view it from a distance. The
image was distorted, like through a peephole.
Instead of fidgeting all night, he decided to meditate right away.
He grabbed his medicine bundle and left.
After yet another unproductive meditation session, he
decided to return to his quarters. Meandering
down the corridor to his cabin, he was suddenly thrown off his feet by a violent
explosion. Landing solely upon his
posterior, he was stunned by the shock that traveled through his spine to rattle
his brain. Lying in that
undignified position, the crew began milling about.
Some ran towards the sound of the explosion, some away.
The sound of the red alert klaxon spurred him into action and he shakily
stood and began hobbling towards the blast.
As he neared the source of the detonation, a sudden dread spurred him on,
in spite of his painfully abused buttocks.
And then there it was, now visible through the parting
dust cloud. His quarters appeared
to have exploded and as he passed through the door, he could see a gaping hole
with space beyond.
"Sir," an Ensign from Security said,
"the force fields are unstable. You
should evacuate the deck."
Numbly, he nodded and left.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like some sautéed
leeola root?” Neelix asked.
Chakotay didn't move at all in his mess hall chair except to shake his
head.
"Okay then.
But if you need anything—I mean anything—don't hesitate to ask."
He pattered away to torture more crewmembers with his “culinary
delights".
Various people stopped by to express their
condolences, but he barely heard them. Then
one thing tore him from his reverie. Her
voice.
"Commander Chakotay, please report to my
quarters."
His heart lifting slightly, he stood and left the mess
hall.
It was a surreal tableau that he could not tear his
eyes from. As he sat on the couch,
Janeway's window framed the absurd spectacle outside the ship, in the cold
vacuum of space. Suspended in the
void were the contents of his quarters—every dresser drawer, every bar of
soap, every article of clothing. Tuvok had immediately utilized a short burst of the tractor
beam to stop the outward progress of the debris, but any other motion they
possessed, they retained. Directly
outside Janeway’s window, spinning in place, was Chakotay’s favorite pair of
Starfleet insignia boxer shorts, stretched out fully by centrifugal force.
He sighed. The little
Starfleet insignias danced a dizzying pattern that seemed to mock him in their
freedom. Further back hung his
woven tapestries, his motif chairs, his ...
Kathryn was trying to suppress a giggle as she, too,
stared out the window.
In anger, he turned to face her and said, "You
think this is funny? Laughing at my misfortune?
I thought you'd have a little more compassion than that."
Still smiling, she returned, "I'm not laughing at
you, I'm laughing at that.” She
pointed out the window. "Does
that even fit you?"
His nostrils flared.
"Of course it fits; the replicator spit it out."
"Not your boxers," she pointed off to the
side, "that."
He turned and deep shade of red and stood to leave.
She continued, “What is it, Betazoid?
I heard they were liberated, but…”
“Could we drop it?”
His embarrassment only encouraged her mirthful
prodding. “Well, as your
commanding officer, I feel I have to remind you that is an extremely
non-regulation piece of clothing.”
"How
could it possibly be taking so long to beam it all back in?"
"A transport might disrupt the already-fragile
force fields holding the rest of your room in.
Besides," she added, "I think some of those items are too small
to be transported."
He had reached the end of his patience.
"Excuse me Captain, but I have to find someone who will let me stay
in their quarters tonight.” He
paused in front of her door.
"Well then, good night," Kathryn said.
He furiously stormed from her room.
Chakotay wasn't even looking up when he walked into a
solid object. For the second time
that day, he ended up sprawled unceremoniously on his ass.
Looking up, he saw Ensign Straker, hand outstretched to help him up.
He accepted and was pulled back to vertical.
"Sorry about that," Chakotay mumbled.
"The Commander apologizing to the Ensign. Isn’t
that one of the signs of the Apocalypse? What's
up?"
Though Straker seemed too friendly given their lack of
familiarity, Chakotay replied, "Lots.
I'm just trying to find someone to put me up for the night."
Tarran raised his eyebrows and said, "I'm on
gamma shift, so I'm just starting. Take
my quarters."
Chakotay blinked, "You’re not serious."
“All you need to do is ask.
I have a place; you need a place.”
“I couldn’t…”
"Why not? Have
fun; feel free to borrow a fresh shirt."
"Your not trying to curry favour, are you?"
"What could you do?
I'm already Chief Recycler. Not
much improvement to be had. So you
have a good sleep," Straker said as he walked away.
The room almost reeked of testosterone.
If the room could speak, it would say, "I am man.”
It was decorated with tapestries of primal reds and browns that, if
you crossed your eyes and squinted, could have depicted battles.
The room was spare and organized, like how one would imagine a
Spartan’s. After of brief
overview, Chakotay lay on the bed and promptly fell asleep.
"Slide," it whispered in his ear.
He immediately sat upright.
Looking around the unfamiliar surroundings, he realized it had been a
dream.
He struggled to recall the dream.
Ice. Caves of ice. Then who was speaking? The
penguin. A penguin?
He was angry that a dream about a penguin disturbed his sleep.
Once again, ear touched pillow...
"Slide," it demanded.
"Ya big oaf. Whadda you
looking at?"
Chakotay looked up.
He was standing in the ice caves. The
air in his nostrils was refreshingly cool and he drank it in.
Turning his attention downward, he asked the penguin,
"Who are you?"
"Your new spirit guide."
Chakotay’s blood ran cold.
The thought of losing his spirit guide was unbearable.
Anger filled him.
"What have you done with her?" Chakotay
demanded.
"Relax," the penguin said, "she's just
on a little vacation. She needs it after being your spirit guide."
"What do you mean?"
"She's tired of hearing yet another love-sick
fool natter on about how wonderful some chick is, without doing anything about
it. I say, if you want her, you
gotta take her, before someone else does."
Chakotay hung his head.
"It's not that simple."
"Of course it is.
When was the last time you showed her how you felt?
Gave her flowers? Made her
dinner? Got her something nice to
wear? Told her how bad you wanted
to leave her uniform on your bedroom floor?"
Shooting the penguin a fiery look tinged with embarrassment, Chakotay said, "So, who are you to tell me what to do?"
"I'm Larry, Ice God of Unrequited Love; what's it
to you?”
"You’re not a part of my religion."
"So what? Stop
looking at gift horse in the mouth. Right
now you’re in trouble and I'm all you've got."
Chakotay could hear music permeating from beyond the
ice walls. Larry said, "That's
my cue to book out of here. Remember
what I said; you better get her before she's gotten."
Chakotay awoke to the blasting bars of a particularly
strident piece of music. Reflexively,
he brought the pillow to cover his head. Realizing
the futility of trying to block such a loud piece of music, he shouted,
"Computer, shut that off!" It
stopped. "What was that?"
He demanded.
"Ballad of the Battle of Kregthor," it
replied in its usual monotone.
Waking up to Klingon opera was not Chakotay’s idea
of fun. Growling as he rolled of
bed, he lifted a heavy arm to tap his combadge.
"Chakotay to engineering, how’s the salvage
operation going?"
"Torres here.
Sorry, Chakotay, still can't get your stuff back.
Soon, though. We'll patch up
that hole in the wall, then we'll be beam everything back inside.
Don't worry, if it wasn't immediately destroyed, it's perfectly preserved
out there."
That was what worried him.
"Come in," Captain Janeway said.
Dressed in his nightclothes, Chakotay plodded into her
quarters, only to be greeted by the montage outside mocking him as before.
"I just came to ask you, since I don't have a
uniform yet, could I give Harry Kim command of this shift, while I go to do some
paperwork in my office?"
"Of course.
Take some time for yourself today, too."
Chakotay moved to leave, then heard a whispered,
"Slide, you dufus."
Turning to Kathryn, he adds, "Are you free for
din—ah, lunch tomorrow?"
Not even noticing his verbal stumble, she replied,
"That would be lovely."
Steps lightened in elation, he left.
"So, I hear your belongings have been transported
in and your quarters will be safe again tomorrow," Kathryn said that before
lifting another forkful of lettuce to her mouth.
Watching the sensual display of Kathryn’s lips
closing over the fork, Chakotay only replied, "Uh-huh.”
Frowning, she said, "You don't sound too
impressed."
His reverie broken by the downturn of her lips, he
said, "It’s just that I still need a place to sleep tonight. "
"That shouldn't be a problem for you,” she
said.
He could not tell if that was supposed to be an
insult.
Bluntly, he stated, "I think you should let me
stay here tonight."
She looked away and said, "I already have
plans."
Not quite understanding the reason, he said, "But
we’re on the same shift right now. You
won't be staying up that late. All
I'm asking for is your couch."
Her cheeks reddened and she said, "I really am
that busy."
The realization of what she meant hit him in the gut.
"I'll…"
He stood. "I guess I
should be going. Bye."
He nearly ran out of the room.
Studying the subtle pattern of the materials that make
up the mess hall table had taken on the new significance for Chakotay.
If his eyes remained fixed on the table, he did not have to face anyone.
"Commander Chakotay, what a pleasant
surprise," Neelix exclaimed, jubilantly.
"I'd rather be alone."
"Oh no!" Neelix said as his smile turned
downwards. "What's the
matter?"
"I'd rather not say."
"But you'd feel so much better if you talked
about it.”
"Please, just go."
"Okay Commander, but if you want to talk about it
later, you know where to find me."
Chakotay slumped even further into his chair.
"Don't you just hate it when they want to
talk?"
Looking up, Straker’s face greeted him.
He continued, "Let's get out here."
They left and found the turbolift.
Tarran led Chakotay through the mazes of corridors on the lower decks,
until they reached a door labeled “Recycling”.
Inside the door was a jumble of pipes, tubes, barrels, and controller
consoles.
"You were wondering about the joys of leola
root," Tarran said. He dug in
a box of spare parts and pulled out two cups, which he brought to a secluded
area around the corner. Liquid was
poured twice, then Tarran returned and handed Chakotay a cup.
Chakotay smelled his portion of the liquid and nearly
collapsed. “What is this stuff,
plasma conduit cleaner?”
“It’s not that bad.
It’s actually quite smooth, if you’ll give it a try.”
“I hate to tell you this, Straker, but I don’t
really drink. Especially not
lower-decks moonshine, no offence.”
Concerned, Tarran asked, “Why not?”
“Well,
my people don’t believe in the use…”
“Why don’t you drink?”
After a pause, he answered, “I don’t know.”
“Then how about a toast.
To not drinking. And to not
talking."
