Chakotay gazed around his new living area. Amazed at the spaciousness, he found himself thinking half of his crew would fit in main room alone. Off to one side was a bathroom/dressing area, and opposite that, a large desk. A sofa was built into the wall underneath a row of viewports, affording him a look at the space outside, the stars streaking by, with their characteristic rainbow trails, as the ship proceeded at Warp. He hadn't had the luxury of a viewport in a long time, and he smiled at the beauty before him, giving him a small sense of peace. He thought of his medicine bundle then. He'd gotten so used to the feel of it beneath his shirt he hardly noticed it anymore. He'd taken to keeping it on him at all times, never knowing where he would end up next. That was an understatement, he thought. Twenty-four hours ago he certainly wouldn't have expected to be standing where he was. He pulled the bundle from his clothing and gently laid it on the bed. The room didn't feel like his yet, still containing scattered remnants of its former occupant.
Although it was a task he didn't like to perform, he began clearing away the personal effects of the person to live here prior to him. He'd done it a lot lately. Too often. The Maquis were constantly moving, always taking over some installation or other, forcing him to remove countless bits of memorabilia as he took up residence. He tried not to think of how many people were not coming back to claim their goods. How many times he swept up armloads of belongings and placed them into a recyler, with the hope that at least their atoms would contribute to something meaningful. As Chakotay resumed his clean-up, he found he couldn't destroy all the man had left behind. He had never met this Cavit, and yet it seemed important to him to have something to remember him by. A piece of something he had felt mattered, to remind Chakotay of his good fortune to be alive, and to be the one to now occupying the quarters and the position of First Officer. He found a box of fishing flies. Each expertly tied and set in the clear box as if they were on display. Perhaps they were. He found them beautiful enough to be displayed as art, and decided to keep them as his token of Commander Cavit.
After a shower, he had come to the moment of truth. He would have to replicate a uniform. Saying he would wear one and actually putting it on were two entirely different matters. He was sure the Captain would find his hesitancy amusing, and tell him he were acting like a child. He felt like one. Like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was now being told to come forward and accept his punishment. But this wasn't really punishment. No, that would come with the Alpha Quadrant. Now that he thought about it, it was more shame he felt. That he didn't deserve to put those colors on again after the way he'd left. He certainly never thought he would wear them again; he was sure that when he left this plane of existence, it was going to be with his medicine bundle in one hand and a phaser in the other.
He ordered a Commander's uniform in his size and waited the mere seconds it took for the clothing to materialize. Gently, almost gingerly, he picked up the garment. It was heavier than he remembered, the cloth denser. Maybe it was just that he'd gotten used to wearing rags. He slipped on the turtleneck, then pulled on the jumpsuit. As he ran the closure up the front, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, freezing at the image. He had a strange sense of deja-vu, as if the last five years hadn't happened. Standing there in the scarlet and black, he noticed how his tattoo seemed to stand out more than when he wore the trappings of the Maquis. He knew it was his imagination, but he had always thought his tattoo seemed especially vivid when he wore that uniform, as if his People were still trying exert some kind of influence on him, to remind him to never forget. He looked down at his bare feet which seemed exceedingly out of place with the uniform. Sighing, he knew he would once again be subject to the confines of the uncomfortable, Starfleet issue footwear. At least he wouldn't have to wear them when he was in here. He knew he was expected back on the bridge, once he cleaned up, but there was one more task he needed to perform before he rejoined the Captain. Turning on his computer terminal, he requested the service record on Captain Janeway.
Her file was surprisingly long for someone he considered relatively young. Forty, her record stated, a few years his junior, he noted. He wouldn't have thought she was that old, judging from her appearance, but the authority, with which she lead, indicated she was a woman more mature than her records claimed. Time in a Cardassian prison, and on her first mission. Captured with Admiral Paris. Tom's father? Served again with him on the Al-Batani. Exemplary record, top of her class. Accomplished scientist in stellar phenomenon. Definitely the top of her field. At least that was one consolation, he thought, that Starfleet felt the need to send their best after him. He didn't know how he would have handled being captured by some rookie, their first time out in the Big Chair. At least he respected Janeway's abilities, it wasn't quite so hard to swallow defeat when your adversary was a worthy opponent. It sure hadn't taken him very long to come around to her way of thinking. She was better than he thought! No direct pressure, just choices that seemed to make sense at the time, and in a matter of hours, he'd done a 180 and taken up her cause and abandoned his own.
He looked down at his uniformed body. How would he face the Maquis? How would he tell them that it was over and he belonged to *them* again? Would they call him traitor? Think he'd been bribed or brainwashed? If they saw the opulence in which he now resided, they'd be convinced he'd been bought. Had he been? Seduced by his old feelings for the Federation? Like an errant lover asking for another chance? Lured by the siren's song of the pretty Captain? No, he decided. He truly saw this as the only way for the two crews to work together, and after the damage he'd witnessed on his short journey to his new quarters, he realized they would need every person on this ship; somehow he and the Captain had to pull them into a productive unit. He knew what an uphill battle he was facing, and he was almost tired, already thinking of the arguments, the viable arguments, his people were going to have against this union.
*********
Kathryn sat at her desk rubbing her eyes. She knew she should try to get some rest, but she was expecting Commander Chakotay back at any moment so they could walk through the ship on a combined tour-damage assessment. Had she made the right decision in making him her First Officer? Tuvok didn't seem to think so, but had sufficient professional discipline to accept her choice without question. She usually didn't second guess herself like this, it must be the fatigue, she reasoned. Tuvok's caution about the Maquis was still ringing in her ears. He, who knew them almost as well as their Captain, was the one telling her there would be trouble, and possible breeches in security. If he was so confident in his analysis of the situation, she had told him, then he better make sure the worst case scenario didn't happen. She knew he didn't need reminding from her, but it made her feel a little more in control of the situation by ordering him to take care of it.
How was she going to ask her crew to work with outlaws and thugs? Her well-trained staff who had put their whole lives into the hands of Starfleet, expecting to serve with individuals who understood the same set of rules, without having to explain themselves to be understood. And the time they had invested in their careers, only to be asked to cooperate with people who were known for being undisciplined. Chakotay was right, it wouldn't be easy. But she was counting on the professionalism of her people to carry her through. They were a good crew, and she was going to make sure she got them home, if she had to get out and push.
The door chimed and she called out for the person on the other side to enter. Looking up, she saw Chakotay, standing in the doorway, almost hesitating. He seemed uncomfortable and Kathryn correctly assessed that it was the uniform making him appear less than confident. He looked good in it, she thought, a damn sight better than the camouflage colors of the Maquis.
"Come in, won't you Commander?" She actually didn't have time to settle his nerves about the attention he was going to attract in that uniform, but she felt sorry for him too. She knew how she'd feel if their situations were reversed, and she was wondering if she would have been able to accept her fate with a similar amount of grace. She suspected not.
"I thought you wanted to go on an inspection tour."
"I do, but please, have a seat for a moment." She walked around her desk and motioned towards the sofa. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee perhaps?"
"Nothing, thank you," he said taking the seat she offered him, but not relaxing into it. He waited for her to speak, as she fussed with a cup for herself.
"Commander, I wanted to thank you for your cooperation. I realize this has been hard on you, and your people, but your willingness to meet me half way is appreciated."
Chakotay wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't any easier on her people, and he was a bit surprised that she was concerned with the emotions of his crew. Why should she care how they felt? After all, they were renegades, outlaws. What right did they have to her compassion? In that moment, he found an even greater respect for her.
Not for the first time, he noted what an attractive woman she was and wondered at the strange pull she seemed to have on him. How they had just met, and she seemed to already know him, know what buttons to push to get him to agree to her requests. On ancient Earth they would have called such a power witchcraft, casting a spell over him that he now did her bidding. It wasn't the fact she was a woman that he found himself so drawn to her although, he had to admit, it entered into the equation. It was the faith she seemed to have, the hope. She exuded a strength that calmed fears, made the impossible seem plausible, that they might just make this work.
"You find that uniform uncomfortable, don't you?" Kathryn observed. Again Chakotay was struck by her perceptiveness. She took a sip from her cup then said,
"I know there's an old saying that 'clothes make the man,' but in this case I think it's reversed. *You* make the uniform. It looks different on everyone, and I don't mean because of body differences. Everyone wears that uniform in a unique fashion. Most with pride, and I think attitude makes all the difference. If you choose to see it as a badge of Starfleet that I've forced you to wear, that's what people will perceive. However, if you view it as physical evidence of your willingness to help me, to help bring this crew together, then I think that's how everyone will see it."
"You don't know the Maquis," he said.
"No, I suppose I don't. But I can be a pretty good judge of character, and people surprise you at the most unexpected times."
He had been one of the biggest surprises, she thought. There had been something about him from the start that made her feel she could trust him, that he wouldn't take her faith in him and abuse it. She took him at his word, and there weren't many she did, especially upon first meeting. To have even worked together to retrieve their crewmembers was unheard of, but somehow she knew he wouldn't take advantage of the situation, although, he had plenty of opportunities, and he could have. Tuvok was worried about the Maquis taking the ship, but she wasn't, not really. Not if Chakotay gave his word that his people would remain in line. He hadn't given her that assurance yet, but when she asked for it, she was sure he would give it.
Kathryn noticed how late it was getting, and cut their conversation short. "We should get started on that tour. Ready to face the troops, Commander?" She said with a slight smile.
"Aye, Captain," he said, coming to his feet. Already the uniform seemed to fit a little better.
*********
Chakotay stood before the doors of Cargo Bay 2, the security guards looking at him suspiciously, dressed in the Starfleet uniform. Tuvok had informed them of his new status, but it was still disconcerting to see the man wearing the clothes. Chakotay was hesitating before the entrance, knowing what he'd be facing.
"Are you going in, Sir?" A guard asked, sneering the last word. Chakotay grit his teeth. He didn't think he'd have a fight even before he entered the Bay.
"Yes, I am, Ensign," Chakotay answered, his face inches from the young man. "And if you ever use that tone of voice with me again I'll have you doing a space walk, scrubbing the hull, with a hand phaser, is that clear?!"
The man paled. "Yes, Sir!"
"That's better. Do you have anything to add, crewman?"
"No, Sir!" The dark woman replied, snapping to attention. Crisis one, down, Chakotay thought, thirty-eight to go.
The reaction he got when he stepped into the Cargo Bay hadn't been the one he had been expecting. The Maquis looked up at his entrance and were silent, then from the back of the room, someone started to laugh. It was caught up by the others until everyone of his people were practically in hysterics. He almost wanted to join them, the situation seemed so ridiculous.
"Hey look!" Someone called out, "Chakotay thinks it's Halloween, and he's come as Starfleet!" The room erupted again, until they saw the look on their Captain's face.
"Wh. . . .You're not *serious* about this?" B'Elanna asked, incredulous.
"He can't be," Seska sneered. "Even he wouldn't be that. . . ." she let her voice trail off as Chakotay's eyes bored into hers. She might have some clout as his lover, but she knew when she could use it and when she couldn't. Now was definitely not the time. The room had become quiet, suddenly, waiting for him to speak.
"I've been talking with the Captain," he started, as if the uniform wasn't obvious evidence he'd been with the 'Fleeters. "We've discussed our options, and as you can imagine, there wasn't a long list."
"Come on, Chakotay, spit it out," Kenneth Dalby spoke up. "Why the uniform? Did you sell your soul back to Starfleet?"
"The Captain has offered me the rank of First Officer," he stated, waiting for the repercussions from his statement.
"Why you, and not that ptach Tuvok?" B'Elanna spat out. "He's been her faithful little dog all along, I would think he'd be the obvious choice."
"He is, but he doesn't have a lot of credibility among the Maquis," he answered her, wondering if he himself still carried any weight with these people.
"Does Janeway think she can buy you with that uniform?" B'Elanna continued to press. "Or has she?"
Her statement cut him. He knew how this had to look. If he were in their shoes he would be feeling the same things, voicing the same arguments. But he saw the far reaching implications the rest of the Maquis weren't taking into account. They were on a Starfleet vessel, and they were seventy years from the Alpha Quadrant. They were outlaws and at the mercy of the Captain. True, he had an ace in the hole, knowing she needed their help to maintain the ship, but Janeway held more cards than she'd thrown away by offering him a commission, and it was in their best interest to try and work with her and Starfleet. But how did he explain it without seeming to betray them? Gods, he was tired. Rubbing his face, he tried again.
"I know you think I've sold out, sold you out, but I haven't." The Maquis were all on their feet now, moving closer to him. Not directly threatening, but they definitely would have intimidated a lesser man.
"What does Janeway plan to do with us?" Gerron asked, voice betraying his rising fear.
"I promised the Captain we'd join her crew. That we'd join her crew," he emphasized.
"What exactly are you saying, Chakotay?" B'Elanna asked, knowing where he was headed, but needing to hear him say it anyway.
"That we'd become a Starfleet crew."
The room erupted into protests. Everyone was shouting, swearing in what ever language they felt expressed them best, complaining to no one in particular that he was crazy, that they drugged him or something, because their Captain wouldn't have acted that way, wouldn't have betrayed them so easily.
Chakotay let them rant, knowing there would be no reasoning with them until they calmed down.. He wasn't afraid of these people, but he was afraid of what they might do to each other. He knew he had to find a way to diffuse this situation soon, before someone threw the first punch and people got hurt.
Seska tried holding B'Elanna back as she attempted to get to Chakotay. "Not now," she told her friend. "I'll talk to him later. We'll get this whole thing straightened out."
"Enough!" He yelled. Apparently they still held enough respect for him to at least hear him out. "What options do you think we have? If any of you have a better suggestion, I'm listening."
"Maybe if you're on the Bridge, playing like you're a good little Starfleet officer, we'll be in a better position to take the ship," Seska said, gaining the support of those around her.
"There's not going to be any take-over," he said. Again he saw the bewildered faces of his comrades.
"Chakotay! The time to strike is now! They're short staffed, consumed with repair problems, we could have the ship in a matter of hours!" Suder protested.
"And what would you do with it once you had it? They can't fly it with the people they have, and you think we could do it with thirty-nine? Our only hope for survival is to work together. To put aside our differences and make an effort to cooperate with each other."
Michael Jonas snorted. "Yeah, right. The Starfleet crew is going to just open their arms to us and welcome us on board. As you can see," he said, gesturing around the Cargo Bay, "they've already made us feel like family by the way we've been treated."
"You're going to be assigned quarters, as soon as things are settled," Chakotay assured them.
"Fall into line and we get out of prison?" Dalby added.
Chakotay sighed. "Repairs have to be made first. Casualties taken care of." He knew he didn't have to spell the rest out to his crew. They'd taken over enough bases where they had to clear away the debris, organic and inanimate, before moving in. It was a task everyone hated, but as distasteful as it was, it had to be done.
"And guess what bunch of low-life scum is going to be assigned that shit duty," Jonas quipped.
"I don't know that for sure, and neither do you."
"Oh come on, Chakotay!" B'Elanna said, "you really think she's going to assign us duties of any importance? She already has her token Maquis," she glared at him.
All B'Elanna Torres had ever wanted was to be an engineer, and she'd fulfilled that dream as part of Chakotay's crew. As much as the experience had forced her to be "creative," she would give anything to be able to work on a ship like *Voyager.* She remembered her first sight of the ship on the view screen. Her sleek, powerful lines were almost sensual, and B'Elanna had felt herself being pulled in by it's allure. Now she was on that ship, only two decks away from the of state-of -the-art technology she'd only dreamt about. As much as she hated Starfleet, she was beginning to wonder if her convictions would give her enough strength to resist it's call. If she were fortunate enough to be offered a position on the engineering staff, would she too forsake the Maquis, seduced by this jewel of the Federation? She didn't rightly know. Everyone had their price, and the Maquis were no exception. Perhaps they were the rule. Almost nothing and no one came to the Maquis without having been bought in some form or another. They were opportunists, taking full advantage of a situation when it presented itself. Maybe that's all Chakotay had done. Taken advantage of the fact the Captain had offered him a place on her senior staff. He certainly was in a better position to express their wishes being at Janeway's side, rather than some insignificant job with the rest of them. She found her anger starting to ease up a little, and was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"I'm sorry, Chakotay," she said, " that was uncalled for. I know you're only trying to do what's best for us."
He had to admit he was a little surprised at B'Elanna's change of heart, but he supposed he should be used to it by now. She always reacted in anger initially, then, upon reflection, usually calmed down and found a way to make things work.
Just then he heard the Cargo Bay doors open and witnessed the Captain's entrance. Why did she have to come down here now? He was just starting to make some headway when she stood before the Maquis, hands on her hips, looking as though she were about to issue an edict. He noticed how his crew immediately tensed and unconsciously moved closer together, as if waiting for her to deliver a sentence. Feeling protective, he stepped up to her,
"Captain, you agreed I'd have time to brief my people properly," he stated, in a tone that implied his displeasure at her intrusion.
Janeway gave him a hard stare, and in a voice, spoken so quietly, only he could hear, she said, "We will *not* have this conversation here." Louder, she spoke to the group before her.
"I realize you haven't had much of a chance to adjust to your situation here, but I'm going to have to ask you to put aside your personal feelings and think of the ship. As you're probably aware, we have repairs to undertake, and Commander Chakotay has informed me that many of you have. . .unique qualifications." The Maquis didn't miss her intended emphasis on Chakotay's new rank, or the euphemism she used referring to their past activities.
"I'm asking you to join me, to join us, in helping get this ship home to the Alpha Quadrant. In becoming part of this crew, you will have the same freedom and respect as any member of a Starfleet crew, and I expect the same from you. I realize few, if any of you, have had any formal training, but when you put on that uniform, I expect you to respect what it stands for, and to treat others as you would have them treat you."
At the mention of the uniforms, thirty-eight pairs of eye flew to Chakotay. Damn it! He thought. If only he'd had a little more time to prepare them! He almost had them convinced joining up with the 'Fleeters wouldn't be the end of the universe, and she had to come in here, all Starfleet and protocol, and blow his credibility to hell!
"Ah, Captain," he started out, "we never actually discussed the necessity for them to wear the uniform."
She turned to him then, repeating her earlier glare that spoke volumes. He knew he was close to insubordination, but he just couldn't let her walk all over him, especially in front of his people. He still needed to be the Captain of his resistance cell for a while yet to convince the Maquis to budge a little on their feelings about Starfleet.
"If we are to be a Starfleet crew, we need to be Starfleet in every way." Janeway calmly stated to him and the people before her. "That includes wearing the uniform."
"Well maybe we don't want to join your precious Starfleet crew," Suder spoke up, others around him, nodding, ready to add their voice to his cause.
"That's entirely up to you. You can either become part of this crew, with the privileges that come with it, or spend the next seventy years in confinement. The choice is yours."
"Like it was our choice to get stranded out here in the first place?" B'Elanna spoke up. Janeway recognized her as the vocal woman Chakotay had restrained on the Bridge. She was going to be a challenge, she could see that now. Kathryn walked over to the young woman. They were approximately the same height and build, and she knew the half-Klingon, in all likelihood, could mop up the deck with her, but she stood before her, exuding such an air of self-confidence, she caused B'Elanna to take a step back.
"You're a 'freedom fighter,' aren't you? I would think you would be the last person to question my decision to spare the Ocampa from certain destruction from an aggresive power."
B'Elanna was speechless. She couldn't argue with the Captain when she put it like that.
Striding away from the chastised woman, Janeway informed the rest of the assembly, "The uniforms will be sent down here shortly, then you will be informed of duty placement and be assigned quarters. Does anyone have any questions?" The Maquis stood silent.
"Then on behalf of the United Federation Of Planets, I'd like to welcome you to Starfleet and Voyager." Janeway turned and headed for the exit, stopping before Chakotay, speaking again in a low voice,
"Commander, I will see you in my Ready Room." Her tone leaving no doubt as to the nature of the meeting .
*********
Kathryn waited for the door of her office to close before she turned and addressed the man she had recently promoted. She was so angry at his obvious dispute of her policies before the Maquis, she had to clench her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.
Her voice was hoarse with emotion when she finally spoke. "If you ever question me like that in front of the crew again, I'll bust you down so fast, you won't know what hit you. You'll be begging me just to let you clean the plasma injectors."
Chakotay couldn't say he was surprised by her dressing down; in fact, he expected it. He knew he shouldn't question her before the Maquis, but he tread a fine line. On the one hand he was trying to please his new Captain, and on the other he was trying to appease his crew. Seeing things from her perspective, she was right to read him the riot act, and he decided not to argue with her.
"You're right, Captain. It was unprofessional and I apologize."
His easy acceptance of her admonishment took the edge off her anger. "Then would you mind telling me why you did it?"
"Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted," she sighed, knowing it meant she was probably going to get angry all over again.
"You said you'd give me time to talk to them. To get them to understand so they would be more accepting of the situation."
"I did give you time."
"Fifteen minutes? I've heard status briefings that were longer than that! This is a touchy area with them. They've just been captured, and before they can even understand the implications of that, they're thrust into having to cooperate with their captors. Not only cooperate, but join their captors' organization as well! A group some left on principle, some because they didn't belong or weren't wanted, and over all, a group none of them wants to be associated with!"
Captain Janeway stood across from him with her arms crossed. He did have a point, but she had to get this crew organized. They were safe for the moment, but what happened when the Kazon came back looking for a fight? She had to have a crew she could count on, not only to follow her orders but to be familiar with ship's functions as well. It wouldn't do to give the order to fire phasers and have someone ask, "Sure, where are they?"
"I see where you're coming from, Commander, but I don't have the luxury of breaking them in slowly. We have no idea when the Kazon will show up, or some other hostile for that matter. I need to have this crew working together, and from what I saw down in the Cargo Bay, we're going to have a hell of a challenge before us. Your people won't be the only problem. The Starfleet crew is going to resent their intrusion as much as the Maquis are going to resent having to work with them. I don't expect we're going to have smooth sailing ahead of us, so we better batten down the hatches and get ready to ride out the storm."
Chakotay found himself almost smiling at her use of the ancient naval clichés. Some things in Starfleet never changed. In some ways it was reassuring.
"I couldn't let you go all Starfleet on me in front of them; I'd lose their respect, and right now I need that to keep them in line. I'm sorry I disagreed with you in front of them, and I know it wasn't right, at least from a protocol stand point. I'll try not to do it again."
"Good," she said, relaxing her posture a bit. "See that you don't, and I'll overlook it this time."
Chakotay relaxed slightly himself, and allowed the grin he'd been trying to suppress to escape. "Just how many plasma injectors are there on a ship this size, any way?"