DISCLAIMER: All the characters belong to Paramount, etc., the story and additional crew, however, are mine. This is purely for fun, so I hope no one minds that I borrowed them for a time. This story may be reproduced and/or archived, but please keep the disclaimer and author/e-mail information intact. Any distribution that is not for personal use, please ask for permission--I'd like to know where it's going!
Copyright 1998 by NODA
*FIRST IMPRESSIONS*
"Welcome! Welcome everyone!" Neelix shouted above the din in the Mess Hall. Hoisting himself onto a chair to see over the crowd, he continued his speech.
"As you know, today marks the anniversary of our fourth year together. In the past, this day had been looked on with a sense of mourning and loss. But I have, with the help of Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay," he said, nodding in their direction, "proposed that this day be commemorated as a happy occasion, one where we can look back at all we have accomplished in our short time together." A round of applause went up as Neelix paused. Most of the crew had assembled in the hall, with the exception of a skeleton crew which was needed to maintain ship's functions. They weren't excluded from the festivities, however, as Neelix's voice carried over the comm channel.
"We've all had to make adjustments to our lives, but I think we can all agree that it has been a good life, here in the Delta Quadrant. I, myself, like to call the Delta Quadrant home," he said with a little chuckle, laughing at his own joke. When he saw no one else joining in, he cleared his throat and started again. "but we've come together, as a family, if you will. Maquis and Starfleet, Starfleet and Maquis, and the lines between the two have begun to blur, until we're now just a unique blend that is the crew of Voyager, a crew unique to the history of the Federation. And so, I'd like to name this new holiday, 'Unification Day.'"
Janeway and Chakotay exchanged glances at Neelix's long-winded discourse, wondering if they should stop him now, or wait until the crew was pushed past politeness and lynched him.
"And with that said. . . ."
"And with that said," Tom Paris interrupted in a loud voice, holding a champagne flute high, "Cheers, everyone!"
"Cheers!" They cried in unison, happy that someone had taken the initiative and ended Neelix's pep talk. The senior staff was standing in a group near the extensive buffet table the Talaxian and his staff of "volunteers" had prepared, clinking their glasses together in an age-old tradition of salute.
Taking a drink from his glass, Tom exclaimed,
"Hey! This is real! Where did Neelix come up with this, and why has he been holding out on me?"
Harry laughed. "Remember about six months ago, that M-class planet we stopped at for supplies?"
"Oh yeah," Tom replied sarcastically. "That one stands out."
"The ones where they had the blue fruit that resembled Terran grapes?" Harry clarified.
"Oh," Tom said, looking ruefully at his glass. "The one's I nearly got sick on because I ate so many."
"Well, Neelix found a way to distill them into this champagne."
Tom examined at the liquid in the glass. Now that he looked, he could see it had a slight blue tinge to it. Fortunately, the taste of the grapes had been altered due to the distillation process, allowing him to fully enjoy the beverage.
"Bootlegging in the Cargo Bay," Janeway said with a smile. "Isn't that against some Starfleet regulation Tuvok?"
"Indeed, Captain. Starfleet Regulation 341, section 8, paragraph 13 specifically states: No member of Starfleet shall engage in the distillation of alcoholic beverages while on any property belonging to Starfleet. That would include Voyager. Fortunately, Mr. Neelix is not in Starfleet, and I was not aware of his activities." The senior staff just stared at him in amazement.
"Is there really a regulation like that?" B'Elanna asked, not sure if this were some weird Vulcan sense of humor.
"There is not. But for some reason, the people on this ship, humans in particular, seem to find the "stretching of the truth" amusing. I was only attempting to fit in on this occasion." This logic seemed perfectly sound to Seven of Nine, who often failed to see what the others of her species regarded as humorous. However, the rest of the officers were hard pressed to keep straight faces.
"There's Harrison from Geo-physics," Chakotay said, looking for an escape route, "I think I'll go see how things are progressing in that department." Harry, Tom and B'Elanna suddenly had an urge to circulate with the crowd, leaving Kathryn with Tuvok, Seven and Neelix. Seven and Tuvok began a conversation, leaving Janeway to chat with the long-winded Talaxian or come up with an excuse of her own to mingle.
"So, Captain! What do you think of our little soiree so far?"
"You've done a wonderful job, Neelix. I think we might get through this day with out too many feelings of regret for a change," she said, taking a sip of her champagne.
"I've decided to name it 'Kessia,'" he said, indicating the beverage she drank. "In memory of my beloved Kes." Just then, as if on cue, someone raised their glass in a toast and called out:
"To absent friends!"
"Absent friends!" the room echoed. There was a moment of silence as everyone was reminded of someone special they missed, then the music started again, as conversations of a hundred individuals filled in the Mess Hall.
Kathryn looked on the scene before her with a feeling of pride. If anyone would have told her four years ago they'd be celebrating like this as one body, one crew, she would have told them they were crazy. To mesh themselves into a cohesive unit was one thing, but to actually be *celebrating* the anniversary of the day they had destroyed the Array? Of course she had Neelix to thank for that. When he came to her with the proposal, she had to admit she was a little apprehensive. Wasn't celebrating that day like rubbing salt into a wound? After discussing it with Chakotay, they decided maybe it would be a good thing for the crew to get together. Perhaps by sharing the day, and their hopes for the future, it could be turned into a positive thing.
So much had changed in such a short time. There were moments like this, relaxed, dressed in off-duty clothes, that she felt less like a Starship Captain, and more like an administrative official of some kind. More like a Mayor of a community. She liked that thought. Not that they could afford to become lax--they needed the protocols and command structure to maintain efficiency, but she could see she'd adapted her command style to their situation in the Delta Quadrant. If she were still in the Alpha Quadrant, she would no doubt be following the Starfleet Rule Book to the letter. Out here there seemed little to be gained by routine inspections, or surprise checks of the crew's quarters. Her officers were competent. More than competent, and they did their jobs better when she wasn't breathing down their necks. If there was a problem, they let her know about it. She'd undergone a personal change as well. She smiled to herself when she thought of her previous hairstyle the crew had jokingly referred to as her "bun of steel." Now, with her shorter hairstyle, she felt the changes within herself were being reflected on the outside. She was much more approachable now. Not that she had gone soft by any means, she simply realized she didn't have to cut herself off completely from the crew to be an effective commander. Perhaps in some ways it made her even stronger.
Taking another sip of her "Kessia," she overheard a conversation between the Doctor and Neelix.
"I know I shouldn't grieve for her, she's probably happier where she is now. . .whereever or whatever that is, but I miss her."
The Doctor reassured him in a sympathetic voice, "I miss her too. She was an excellent assistant and a wonderful friend. We should be grateful that we had the honor to know Kes."
Kathryn was taken aback. Things really had changed! The Doctor actually offering Neelix emotional support? Trying to make him feel better? Again it brought a slight smile to her face. If a computer program could learn compassion, anything was possible.
She decided to try some of the delicacies from the buffet table. Sticking to what she could recognize, she chose several hors d'oeuvres from the artfully arranged platters. She was about to bite a puff of some sort when she heard Chakotay come up behind her.
"Enjoying yourself?" He asked, stealing a canapé off her plate.
"Get your own!" She cried, playfully slapping his hand away from her food. "I was until everyone deserted me. Harrison in Geo-Physics? Really Chakotay, you could have picked out someone you at least had a common interest with."
"I was attempting to broaden my knowledge of the crew," he tried to say with sincerity, but realized she saw right through him. She knew he didn't have an interest or a clue about geo-physics, but the young woman was the first one he spotted when he looked up. In fact, it had taken him all this time to excuse himself and come looking for her. He attempted to snatch another bite off her plate but she skillfully pulled it out of his reach.
"Either get your own plate or go mingle some more! These are mine! Besides, after all the trouble you go to get me to eat, I'd think you'd let me finish these!"
B'Elanna watched the exchange between Chakotay and Janeway, a smile creeping onto her face.
"What's so funny, B'El?" Tom asked, handing her another glass of champagne.
"Not funny, more ironic," she replied, accepting the proffered drink. "They think they've got everyone fooled."
"Who's that?" Tom asked, trying to follow her gaze.
"The Captain and Chakotay, of course."
"Of course. Your favorite topic lately."
"Is it a crime to want everyone to be as happy as I am?" B'Elanna asked, looking up into Tom's bemused face.
"No, but there is something wrong with obsessing over them."
"I don't 'obsess' over them!" She cried defensively. "I just want them to be happy."
"They look pretty happy to me right now, stop pushing them so hard. They'll get together when the time is right, without any outside help. Besides, if we hadn't been on the verge of death, I doubt you would have told me how you really felt, and we'd still be doing the same dance they are." Tom looked into B'Elanna's eyes and saw an idea beginning to take shape.
"Oh no you don't! No locking them in a turbo-lift or on the Holodeck either. You do and I promise I'll tell!" He teased her.
B'Elanna's pretty face was disfigured by a pout. "You take all the fun out of everything."
"Not everything, I hope," he whispered suggestively into her ear..
"Paris, you're still a pig," she said, slapping away his roving hand, but he could see she didn't mean it.
As B'Elanna was watching the Captain and Chakotay, he was observing her with Tom. He remembered his recent conversation with her where he cautioned her to go slowly with the relationship. It wasn't that he didn't trust Tom, it was more that he didn't trust her. She had a sense of devotion as fierce as her Klingon heritage. It took a lot for her to admit she cared for someone, but once she did, she hung on for dear life. He didn't want to see her get hurt if Paris' eye began to roam again. But he could see his brotherly chat had no effect on her. She was head-over-heels for the Pilot long before they had their talk, and no amount of rationalization was going to change her mind. Tom had just better to continue to treat her right, he thought, or he'd have to deal with him.
"Chakotay?" Kathryn spoke, bringing him out of his reverie. "Why are you staring at Tom and B'Elanna?"
"Hmmm? Oh, just thinking how I never thought I'd live to see the day when those two, of all people, would have gotten together."
Kathryn was about to take another bite, when she spotted something that looked suspiciously like leola root sandwiched between the layers of one of the appetizers. Opting for a drink of her Kessia instead, she said, "I don't know, I think they've got a lot in common. Both are trying to be liked for who they are now, and not who they were. Tom the ex-con/traitor and B'Elanna with her struggle over her mixed blood. They're probably very good for each other."
Chakotay stared at her, "I thought I was the optimist."
Kathryn smiled and touched his arm, "You don't have a corner on the market, you know." Just then she realized how closely they were standing, and that several of the crew's eyes were on them. Feeling a little self-conscious, she stepped away from him under the pretext of placing her plate in the recycler.
"What do you think of relieving the crew on the Bridge?" She asked him. "This celebration is more for them than it is for us, and I'd like to see them have a chance to enjoy it."
"I think it's a great idea, especially since I seem to have run out of small talk. After you," he said, motioning her towards the door. As she was stepping through the portal, he managed to grab a bottle of Neelix's home brew and two glasses. Just because they wouldn't be in the Mess Hall, didn't mean the party had to end!
*********
"Captain on the Bridge!" a nervous, young woman cried out, as Janeway stepped off the turbo-lift. Ensign Thalia Boyd usually worked the Gamma shift, and was unaccustomed to seeing the Captain on the Bridge. However, she had been one of the unlucky ones who had drawn a duty shift during the party, even though it fell during the hours of the Alpha Shift. Gerron, a Bajoran national and former Maquis, was stationed at Ops. Field-promoted to Ensign, he had taken Tuvok's lessons to heart and requested additional training from the Vulcan, in an attempt to find a place among Voyager's crew. No longer the lost young man Janeway had originally encountered, he was fast maturing into a valued member of her Bridge crew.
"At ease, everyone," Janeway called out with a smile. "We're here to relieve you."
Gerron and Thalia exchanged excited glances. Not five minutes earlier they had stated out loud how they wished they could be in the Mess Hall with their friends. Two other crewmen were present, one at the Helm and another at Tactical, and they too perked up at the prospect of being able to join the party.
"But Captain," Gerron spoke, "surely you can't mean all of us," wondering who was going to have to remain with their commanding officers. They were pleasant enough, but by the Prophets! Their presence was so unnerving! What if something happened? He just *knew* he'd freeze and embarrass himself in front of Janeway.
"Are you questioning my orders, Ensign?" Kathryn asked, placing her hands on her hips, affecting her "command stance." It didn't have quite the same effect when she was out of uniform, but it caused all the blood to drain from Gerron's face just the same, as he stammered an apology.
"Of c. . .course not, Captain! I merely meant. . . ." Janeway placed a comforting hand on the Ensign's arm.
"It's okay, Gerron. Commander Chakotay and I know the Bridge stations well enough to fly the ship in pitch darkness." Chakotay, wther, feeling almost guilty for obeying her orders.
Kathryn stood in the center of the Bridge, hands once again on her hips as she contemplated which stations to put on automatic and which they should monitor. She started with the Helm. No new course changes, so it was a pretty easy decision to set the auto pilot. Janeway fiddled with the controls and left the ship on its present heading. She was about to head to the upper deck, when Chakotay said,
"I'll give you a hand. I think we can put them all on automatic; there's nothing going on, and if something shows up, the computer will let us know." She was about to argue with him, but he was right. Was she going to stand at attention at the Tactical station for the rest of the shift in this uneventful stretch of space?
"You're right," she said, "I'll take Tactical and Engineering, you take Ops."
"Putting sensors on long range scan," he said, his fingers confidently moving over the keypads.
"You're pretty good at that," she teased. "Maybe I should have you standing a little further behind me," she said, indicating the physical position of Ops behind the Command chairs.
"I do my best to impress," he returned, a grin of his own coming to his lips.
"All weapons are on line," she announced. "It looks green across the board. I think things are locked down pretty tight." On cue, the computer recited her actions back to her and informed her of the duty station's automatic status. Chakotay had returned to his chair, as she took her seat next to him. "I feel a little strange sitting in this chair in these clothes," she confessed.
"That chair has never looked better," he grinned at her. He couldn't help smiling at her. They were both feeling the slight effects of the champagne they had consumed at the party, and were more relaxed than usual in their seats.
"You know, there were easier ways to get me alone that wouldn't have involved under-staffing the Bridge," he teased.
"I could hardly let half of them go and not the other," she rationalized. "I hate to burst your bubble, but it had nothing to do with you."
"Shhh, don't tell me," he said closing his eyes and leaning his head back. This was something he'd always wanted to do, but never had the opportunity. To lay his head back and just *listen* to the ship. The sound the instrument panels made as the computer performed functions at each station, the slight, ever-present hum that was usually covered up by the sounds of the crew tending to their duties.
"What are you doing?'' Janeway asked, staring at her First Officer who almost appeared to be asleep in his chair.
"Shhh," he said again. "Just listen." Kathryn assumed a similar position in her own chair and closed her eyes, too.
"Do you hear it?" He asked in a voice that almost sounded hypnotized. "The breath of Voyager? It's heartbeat?"
"Yes," she answered in the same hypnotic tone. Her hand had drifted down the arm of her chair and was reaching towards him. On the same wavelength, he had done the same, reaching towards her. Neither had opened their eyes, but their hands touched and clasped together in a silent bond of understanding.
"It's like lying on a hill watching the clouds," she said dreamily, listening to the life of her ship. Their ship. Chakotay's other hand slipped down the opposite side of his chair and contacted with the contraband he had brought from the Mess Hall. Sitting up straighter, he broke his bond with Kathryn, confusing her. She was usually the first one to pull away.
"Sit up," he said, "I have something for you."
Oh, God, she panicked, thinking he had some intimate gesture in mind, but was relieved to see he only had a glass of champagne in his hand, extended to her.
"And just where did you get this?'' She asked with mock sternness.
"I confess. I stole it. I figured we deserved some kind of compensation for sacrificing our holiday for the crew."
"Oh, so now it's a sacrifice to be alone with me. Thank you very much."
"Well, there're just somethings that have to be endured when you're the First Officer, whether you like them or not," he teased back. He liked her like this. Relaxed and flirting with him. It was just that much sweeter that it was taking place on the Bridge.
"Neelix named this 'Kessia,'" she informed him, changing the subject.
"A fitting name," he agreed. "To Kes," he said quietly, raising his glass to hers to complete the toast.
"Kes," she repeated. They exchanged looks, as they klinked their glasses together, both sets of eyes reflecting the still-present pain of her departure, as they drank silently from their glasses.
Kathryn pulled her legs up into her chair and sat cross-legged on its leather seat, in a most un-Captain like pose. Her loose silk pants easily accommodated the action, and Chakotay was again struck by her ease at relaxing in the nerve center of her ship.
"So, what shall we talk about," she asked him conversationally, as he refilled her glass. "Hey! Easy with that! If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk!"
"Are you sure you know better?" He asked, dark eyes flashing.
"I'm serious, Chakotay! We do still have to watch the Bridge, you know!"
"All right," he conceded with a sigh, "since it's our first Unification Day, let's talk about what your first impressions were of us."
"Us?"
"You know, me, the Maquis," he clarified.
"In any particular order?"
"No," he said a little tersely. It was her idea to talk, and now she was evading the topic. "If it'll help, I'll go first, okay?"
"Good," she said. It would give her a little more time to think about how she wanted to answer him. On the one hand, she could stroke his ego and tell him how she had been immediately struck by his physical presence; and on the other she could confess how exasperated she was when they had first come on board her ship. Her ship. A Starfleet vessel, not a Maquis transport. How every time there had been a flare-up with her crew she wished she could toss the offenders out of the first air-lock and have her nice, new, well-ordered ship back. Not a patched-up, battle-scarred barge with a dissenting crew. But the truth was, like it or not, they were all each other had; they'd had to find some way to get along, or perish seventy-thousand light years from home. She could say, without conceit, that she was responsible for the eventual merger of the two crews, but she couldn't have done it without Chakotay, or Tuvok for that matter. Although the Maquis no longer trusted the Vulcan, he did have inside information as to their habits and behaviors that had kept her from making some very serious mistakes early in their association. He didn't hide the fact he was concerned about their presence on the ship. Knowing them as he did, he knew they would be a very real threat to the security of Voyager. But he also knew there would have to be room for compromise, from both sides, and tried to see the logic in her decision to offer the post of First Officer to the man she had been sent to capture.
"You aren't even listening to me!" Chakotay said, his tone bordering on complaint.
"Uh, sure I am," she said, trying desperately to remember a word or phrase that might have been super-imposed over her day-dream.
"Okay, what did I just say?"
"Something about the ship?" She asked, hoping it was a generic enough statement to satisfy him.
"Right," he said, realizing his last words had fallen on deaf ears. "I said, the first thing I remember, besides my ship falling apart, was the sight of you on my view screen."
*********
"Commander Chakotay, My name is Captain Kathryn Janeway. . . ."
"How do you know my name?" He cut her off angrily. Taking the time to explain how she had been briefed of their identities before leaving Starfleet Headquarters, on her mission to apprehend them, she proposed they work together to find a solution to their mutual problem.
After setting a plan in motion to find both their missing crew members, Kathryn felt as though something monumental had taken place. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about this alliance that felt right, felt good. She didn't often rely on gut instinct, but there was something honest, something trustworthy about the Captain of the Maquis ship that she was surprised to find. Quite frankly, she hadn't known what she'd discover once she actually met him. But this man, who seemed to wear honor like armor, wasn't who she expected. Any one who could walk away from their commitment to Starfleet was automatically labeled "dishonorable" in her book, and to find herself strangely drawn to him was unsettling. It was obvious to her now how he had evaded capture for so long. Besides having the benefit of Starfleet training, his personality would have attracted the best people to him, making him a formidable opponent. And he had proven to be one. After she had Ensign Kim back, and he had his engineer, it would be almost with regret that she'd carry out her mission. But carry it out she would. She was a Starfleet Officer, and even if he no longer had a loyalty to that organization, she did; her personal feelings in the matter wouldn't play any part in her actions against him.
Chakotay had no illusions about their forced alliance. He knew that the minute the missing crew members were on their respective ships, Captain Kathryn Janeway and her state-of-the-art ship would resume their mission and attempt to capture them. And they would do it. He knew the Zola stood no chance against a ship like *Voyager,* even if it had been in top condition. They'd barely made it into the Badlands, and he knew there were no more tricks to pull out of the hat. Perhaps if he bargained with her before the inevitable battle took place, maybe offered himself for the lives of the others. He was the one Starfleet really wanted, any others were just icing on the proverbial cake. It would have to be done in secret, for he knew if any of his crew caught wind of his plan, they wouldn't allow him to go through with it for their sakes. He knew loyalty to one's fellow crew members during his years with Starfleet, but it was nothing like the fierce tenacity the Maquis felt towards one another. Living on the edge, unsure whether each day would be their last, they had formed a bond tighter than any family group. They would die before they let the Federation ship take him away, even if he had surrendered himself voluntarily.
He hadn't gotten the chance to put his plan into effect, as they engaged the Kazon ships immediately upon their return from the surface. As the battle ensued, and it became apparent his ship wasn't going to make it, he had his crew beam over to Voyager as he made a last-ditch attempt to disable the attacking Kazon vessel. His plan successful; one moment he found himself seconds from death; the next on board his pursuer's ship.
The immense relief he had felt upon seeing the Bridge of Voyager materialize around him, was soon replaced with fear. Not for himself, but for his people. They had been captured. Not in the conventional sense, but their ship was gone and their fate lay in the hands of the woman before him. He didn't have time to reflect on what that outcome would be, as Captain Janeway ordered him to take the helm. Without protest he slid into the seat as if she commanded him on a daily basis. Blanching when he heard her give the order to destroy the Array, he empathized with B'Elanna's impassioned statement,
"Who is she to speak for all of us?" He too wanted to protest the destruction of their only way home, but he knew where they were--on her ship, under her command. They had no choice in the matter.
"She's the Captain," he stated, holding back his volatile, half-Klingon engineer.