Sitting at her desk, reading over the reports Tuvok had given her, detailing what repairs were needed, Kathryn found her mind continually drifting back to the Maquis. If only they were as willing to join her crew as Kes and Neelix had been! She and Chakotay had spent the last hour and a half going over what positions he thought his people were qualified for and she thought were safe bets for their placement. They had argued over several of them, but eventually came to an agreement that satisfied them both. He had left her to inform his people of their new vocations, leaving her wondering about him yet again. She had to stop thinking of them as "his" people. Every contact she had with Chakotay left her almost bewildered. His attitude came very close to insubordination, then he would be contrite, apologize for over-stepping his bounds and become the model Starfleet officer. She wondered if he had been as contrary in his former association with Starfleet, or if this was a new turn, the product of his Maquis/Starfleet hybridization. She had a hard time envisioning him blindly following any commanding officer, and yet she expected it of him in regards to her orders. Was she expecting too much? Had she placed too much faith in him? Even with their disagreements, she felt they were still after basically the same thing--to get their people home, in one piece. Maybe that's why she trusted him when Tuvok clearly didn't. That still bothered her. She didn't like the thought that her First Officer and Chief of Security were at odds with one another, but perhaps it would work out in time. God, she hoped so. She had enough problems without having to referee her senior staff as well as the rest of the crew.
She got up from her desk and stretched. She was so tired, nothing was making sense anymore, perhaps if she were able to sleep, just a little, the prospect of the future would seem a little brighter. Laying down on the sofa, she found herself drifting off almost immediately. Seeing the images of Mark and her dog, Molly, she welcomed the dream.
*********
Chakotay entered his new quarters and reclaimed his medicine bundle. He planned to spend the night with his people, one last night together as the Maquis, and he wanted to know his heritage was with him. It was his reason for being in the Maquis, so it only seemed fitting it accompany him to his last communion with his former resistance cell. After tonight he would have to put the Maquis away, and fully become a Starfleet officer. He couldn't tread the line any longer, he'd seen that in Janeway's Ready Room. He had to make a decision about what side of the fence he was really on. He could have given into Seska's suggestions and only pretended to side with the Captain to gain her trust, to be used against her in the future, but he found he couldn't do that to her. He'd duped others in the past in order to gain their confidence, only to betray that trust for the sake of the Maquis, but he found he couldn't do that to her. Maybe it was her every-one-deserves-a-second-chance attitude that did it. After all, look at Tom Paris. He'd had so many strikes, he should have been out a long time ago, and yet she had offered him a field commission of Lieutenant and the Conn as well. There weren't many who would place that kind of trust in a criminal. He laughed at that. He too was a criminal she had placed her trust in, and he wondered if she detected the pattern she seemed to set for herself. And then there were the Maquis. There were ways she could have gotten around asking them to join her. But instead, she wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt and a second chance as well. He wondered how many of his people realized what a generous person she really was. He'd known her for such a short time, any yet he respected her as if they had been associated for years. He now had a clearer understanding of Tuvok's motives as an infiltrater on his ship. He would do the same if she asked it of him. Funny how she had inspired such a fierce devotion in him so quickly.
Entering the Cargo Bay, he could see the uniforms had been delivered, and sat untouched on the floor, as if picking them up was an admission of acceptance. The people in the Bay were subdued now, most lying on their cots, lost in their own thoughts. As Chakotay chose a cot along the wall, he noticed the surprised looks from those around him, wondering why he was with them when he had his own quarters. Privacy was a precious commodity among the Maquis, and usually wasn't rejected when the opportunity arose. Most were glad to see him, happy he hadn't completely crossed over the line, that he wanted to share their camaraderie. Some came up to him and expressed opinions about their new situation. On the average, his people supported his decision as the only viable solution. It didn't mean they liked it, but they understood he was trying to do what was best for all of them.
Seska, B'Elanna, Dalby, Suder, Jonas and a few others were the exception to the rule Sitting apart from the others, they were doing their best to hold onto the last vestiges of the Maquis, as their comrades acquiesced and joined Chakotay, in spirit. Several tried to convince the others to give up the fight, that it was better to accept their situation instead of wasting energy on what would eventually be a losing battle. Seska in particular was adamant. Crossing the floor to Chakotay's cot, she sat down on the edge next to him.
"You look tired," she started.
"I am."
"Why don't you lay down and let me give you a backrub, you certainly have given me enough of them. I'd like to return the favor."
Chakotay didn't fight her. Seska's strong hands were soon able to effectively work some of the knots from his shoulders.
"That feels good," he mumbled into his pillow. "Good," Seska purred. "Chakotay?"
"Hmmm?"
"Is all this business about joining Starfleet really necessary? I mean the uniforms and everything? It's one thing to go along with them so we aren't dropped off on some barely habitable planet, but to embrace their politics and polices? Why does she insist we take up Starfleet's banner just to help fly the ship?"
Seska felt Chakotay's shoulders stiffen beneath her hands. "I should have known you weren't here for my benefit," he said as he rolled over and sat up.
"I didn't mean to start an argument," she said, trying smile and salvage their talk.
"Well, you did. You think I went into her office and begged her to take us with her and shape us into her image? She had some valid points. This crew is going to need discipline. A lot of it, on both sides, and Starfleet protocols will help accomplish that goal in the least amount of time, with the least amount of friction."
"Prophets, Chakotay! You're already reciting the Starfleet manual and we've been on board less than two days! What other hoops does our pretty little Captain have you jumping through?"
Chakotay clenched his hands into fists and then relaxed them. He didn't want to get angry over this. He should have realized what she was up to when she came over to him, all sweetness and smiles, offering to help him relax. When would he learn that Seska's gifts usually came with a price tag?
"This has nothing to do with her! She gave me her reasons we should join her crew and I agreed with them. End of story!" He resisted the urge to get up and walk away from her; if he didn't nip her jealousy in the bud, it would become a far worse problem in the future. He'd experienced more than his share of it lately, and he wondered why. She'd even accused B'Elanna of having a "thing" for him! They were friends. Good friends, but that was all, and he felt protective of his engineer. She had come to them so hurt and disillusioned that his heart naturally went out to her. Their relationship was more like that of siblings, he playing an older brother to her younger sister. The thought that B'Elanna was interested in him sexually was ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as him being sexually attracted to the woman who had captured them.
"Stop thinking with your dick and start using your brains! Or is that where they are these days?" Seska stood and was about to walk away, as Chakotay grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop before him.
"Where did all this come from? You've been so jealous lately, and I don't understand it."
Seska looked down and saw that the ugly words had left a painful expression on his face. Gods, she hated this sensitive side of him! Any other man would have slapped her for such a statement, but not him. He tried to understand what had caused her to lash out at him. If only he'd grab her and force her to the cot and make violent love to her as he used to! The more intimate they became, the more loving and sensitive he became. She wanted the angry Maquis leader who had excited her in the first place, not this man who was ready to roll over and play dead. He was beginning to disgust her. But she couldn't move on to someone new just yet. Like it or not, he was still the leader of their group, and if she wanted a taste of that power, she had to remain with him, or at least appear to be with him. Now Suder, there was a man who knew how to take matters into his own hands! Perhaps if they were discreet enough she could test her theories, without jeopardizing her position in Chakotay's life.
"Let go of me," she stated flatly, struggling with his grasp. He noticed the attention they were gathering and released her. He wasn't sure he wanted to settle this. It was so much easier to just let her go, and he was already so tired. Looking up, he saw Colin Masterson give him a sheepish smile, and shake his head slightly, as if to say "women." Chakotay returned with an embarrassed grin of his own as he got up. Spotting B'Elanna across the Cargo Bay, he headed towards her. Angrily arranging her own cot, she looked as if she needed someone to talk to as much as he did at that moment.
"Hey," he said, coming up behind her. B'Elanna whipped around, arms raised for a fight.
"Easy soldier!" he said raising his hands in mock self-defense.
"Sorry," she said, pushing her hair out of her face, and lowering her arms.
"Having a little trouble adjusting to Starfleet-issue bedding?"
"Among other things," she responded testily. "Have a seat," she offered, gesturing to her newly-erected cot. He bounced slightly to test her construction and said,
"Good job, Torres. Keep this up and I'll make you an engineer," he teased, as she sat down next to him.
"Think I'm good with a cot? You ought to see what I can do with Anti-matter containment fields"
"I have."
"We were a good team, weren't we?" She said, a tone of resignation to her voice.
"We're still a good team."
"Oh come on, Chakotay! You know it's over, just like the rest of us!" B'Elanna cried, jumping to her feet to pace before him.
"I don't know it's over. We've joined up with other groups before, and it's always proven beneficial."
"This is Starfleet, Chakotay! Not some mercenary-band-of -the-week! We're in this for the long haul! And I can't believe I'm actually going to have to put that on again." She said, pointing to the pile of clothing in the center of the floor; the Maquis had avoided like a Rigelian Plague.
"They're just clothes, B'Elanna. Cloth that's been made into a covering."
"Right," she sneered. "You and I both know what that particular arrangement of cloth means. You might be able to convince the rest of the Maquis that it's just red, gold and blue cloth combined with black, but I
Chakotay reached out and took her hand, pulling her back down to the cot. "B'El, I know how hard it's going to be for you. How do you think I felt a few hours ago when I put this on?"
"There's one big difference. You left on principle. I was 'invited' to leave. I've never felt so dishonored or alone in my life. You know how I grew up. When I was accepted to the Academy, it was the happiest day of my life. I was sure things were going to change for me; after all, didn't Starfleet only accept the brightest and the best? I soon found out that didn't include misfits like me, no matter how 'gifted.' I tried to blame it on my heritage, but that wasn't it. Starfleet has their rules and there is no getting around them. You do things their way, or you're out. My 'creativity' wasn't appreciated like it was among the Maquis."
"I know," was all he said.
"This group is the first place I've ever felt I belonged. That I actually had a purpose, and now I have to give it all up and become Starfleet again. Join a group that did everything they could to get rid of me!" B'Elanna was up and pacing again, giving the pile of uniforms an angry glare as she walked past it.
"The only thing I can say is, Captain Janeway seems to have an open mind, and I think she'll be fair."
"You like her, don't you?" She asked, cocking her head at him, a slight grin playing on her lips. Her question containing none of the accusations Seska's had.
"Yes, I do. She shoots straight from the hip. She says there will be no favoritism, that both crews will have the same privileges and obligations, and I believe her. If I didn't, I wouldn't have agreed to join her. I won't lie to you. She's Starfleet to the bone, but she has an open mind as well. I think you'll get a chance to put some of that 'unconventional creativity' to use as an engineer on this ship."
At first Chakotay's last sentence didn't register with her, then it hit. "Engineer? On Voyager?"
"That's what she's agreed to," he confirmed.
B'Elanna tried to stutter out a response, but she couldn't think of anything coherent to say.
"You start tomorrow," he said, "as soon as you're dressed in that uniform."
She knew it was a bribe, the lowest form of persuasion, but she also knew what she was going to be wearing in the morning.
"Okay," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You win."
********
Kathryn Janeway was back at her desk going over the energy consumption reports once again. No matter how many times she read it, the result was the same. Voyager didn't have enough energy to cover the demands that were being placed on her. At the rate they were going, they'd be dead in the water in less than a month. The replicators seemed to be the major culprit, and she decided they would have to go to rationing in order to save power. Just one more bitter pill she was going to be forced to ask her crew to swallow. But that wasn't the only problem. If they had to ration their food, where would they get the rest of the sustenance they would need to survive? At the current level of rationing she thought she'd have to enforce, there wouldn't be enough for adequate nutritional levels, let alone the personal items the crew would need, especially the Maquis, who had nothing but the clothes on their backs and the uniforms she had provided them with. Those had taken a tremendous amount of energy, but she felt it was necessary to the integration of the ship. Between that and replicating new parts to fix *Voyager,* the reserves were nearly depleted. She had to find dilithium somewhere, or perhaps some new form of energy the Delta Quadrant had to offer, that could be modified to run the ship. Rubbing her neck, trying to dislodge the ache there, she heard her door chime.
"Come in," She called out, expecting Tuvok. Instead, she looked up from her desk to see Chakotay, standing with a PADD in his hand.
"Captain," he greeted her.
"Commander," she returned. "More bad news?" She inquired, nodding towards the PADD.
"Crew placements. It would seem some of the crew isn't satisfied with their jobs."
Kathryn had to smile at that. Every effort had been made to accommodate personal desires, but it was a Starship, after all, not a Pleasure Cruiser. "Yours or Mine?"
"Both, actually," he answered, slightly embarrassed. Frankly, he thought his people would be happy just to be out of the Cargo Bay, but apparently it wasn't enough, and he told her as much.
She gestured him to the chair opposite her and took a look at the PADD. Some of the Starfleet personnel had to be rearranged to cover the new vacancies, and many had been asked to do jobs that weren't the main focus of their chosen careers. Among them, Tom Paris. He'd had some medical training and had been assigned some duty shifts in Sick Bay, helping the EMH reorganize the medical facility. She didn't see his name on the list of dissenters, nor had she expected to. She knew he was grateful to be doing anything on the ship. No doubt he would complain to his new friend Harry about the addition to his duties, but he would never say anything for the record. He had been trying his damnedest to win a small amount of respect from the people on Voyager, and wouldn't let something as petty as his assignments jeopardize that. She wasn't surprised at the number of Maquis names on the list, but she was surprised they were complaining at all.
"Commander," she said, handing him back the PADD, "I thought the Maquis had a reputation for 'improvisation,' for doing what ever was required to get the job done."
"Yes," he answered cautiously.
"Well tell them to 'improvise.' Now, I'd like to go over this energy consumption report with you, as long as you're here."
That was it? He thought. No discussion, just toss the problem back into his lap? Half the crew was ready to mutiny and the other half was seriously considering it. The crews had been merged for less than half a day, and there were already so many complaints piling up on his computer terminal, he'd never be able to address them all. And some were legitimate concerns, the trouble was trying to weed through the complaints to get to the actual problems.
"Commander, are you listening to me?" Her tone conveyed her displeasure at his inattention.
"Uh, I'm sorry Captain, I was just going over the crew situation in my mind, and I think we should discuss. . . ."
"You're the Second in Command," she stated, a hard edge to voice. "Deal with it. Now, about the rationing. . . . "
His mind couldn't concentrate on her words. He couldn't believe this was the same woman who had taken the time to calm his fears about wearing a Starfleet uniform. She was so cold, so "all business" that he almost wondered if she suffered from some type of personality disorder. Then he looked into her eyes, and saw the worry, the doubt, the fear she had to bear for the rest of them. Now he understood the terseness of her order to him. She had to keep a hard edge or she might give into the despair that was around every corner. They were plagued with problems on so many levels, he realize the least he could do was to deal with the crew situation. It was one duty she had allowed him to take off her shoulders, and he decided to stop his own complaining and do the best he could to get this crew into shape. Once that happened, many of her dilemmas would correct themselves, and maybe she wouldn't feel she had to keep such a hard edge.
Clearing his thoughts, he concentrated on the information she was presenting, just as the door chime rang again.
"Now what?!" she almost barked. "Come in!" The Ready Room's door retracted, revealing Neelix and Kes.
"Something I can do for you, Mr. Neelix?" Janeway prompted.
"Ah, it's rather what I can do for you," Neelix offered, eyes quickly darting over the room, as if he were taking inventory. "I've heard rumors that the ship is going to run out of energy."
The Captain and Chakotay exchanged glances. Starships were fueled by the rumor mill, and this small ship, was no exception.
"Too bad we couldn't run the ship on rumors," Chakotay murmured to her, the hint of a smile on his lips.
"You must be psychic, Neelix. The Commander and I were just discussing that very issue."
Neelix reached out and pulled Kes closer to him. "Talaxians have no tendencies towards psychic powers, but Kes, here, her people have some remarkable mental abilities."
Janeway smiled at the ernest man before her. "It was a figure of speech."
Neelix had a calming effect on her, she noticed. A minute ago she was ready to bite his head off, and now she was smiling at his misunderstanding. He was a little long winded, and a bit self-involved, but he was right when he told her she would need a guide. He was unconventional, but whom had they met out here who wasn't?
After weeding through his somewhat pompous claims, she came to agree with his plans for a galley and a mess hall to take some of the stress off the replicators. He assured them both, he knew of several friendly planets were they could take on supplies.
Kathryn was still shaking her head as Neelix left her office. "What an odd fellow he is," she observed. "Now, where were we?" Just then Tuvok's hail interrupted her train of thought.
"Tuvok to Janeway."
"Yes?" she demanded with a sigh. She was going to have to start insisting on some privacy if she wanted to get through the work before her.
"There is an altercation taking place in Engineering. I have dispatched a security detail, but I thought you would want to be informed."
"Thank you, Tuvok, I'm on my way." She was halfway across the room as she answered, Chakotay on her heels.
"I guess we should be grateful things were quiet this long," Janeway said as she entered the turbo-lift.
"It may be settled by the time we get there," Chakotay added hopefully.
Kathryn looked at him. "Unfortunately I don't think this is going to be an isolated incident, with a 'quick fix.'"
Tuvok's voice came over her comm badge again. "Captain, there are reports of fighting on Deck 13. I'm heading there now."
"Good. Commander Chakotay will meet you there. Computer: halt lift on Deck 13" Turning to her First Officer, massaging her aching head she said, "You take care of the fight. I'll go down to Engineering and see what the problem is there. God, I hope nothing else happens right now. I don't have enough officers to cover the situation." At first he thought she were joking, attempting to lighten the heavy mood that had settled over the lift, but he saw the look on her face, and realized she was serious.
He could hear shouting as soon as he exited the lift, and almost ran down the corridor in the direction it was coming from. A group of about twenty people were engaged in a fist fight, men and women alike, Maquis and Starfleet. In the new uniforms, it was harder for Chakotay to pick out his people among the 'Fleeters, and Tuvok arrived as Chakotay began to physically separate the warring factions, Starfleet to one side of the hallway, Maquis to the other. Chakotay took a well-aimed blow to the stomach as he moved a man intended for a punch. It was all he could do not to return the action in kind. Seeing Chakotay on the receiving end of a Starfleet punch, galvanized the Maquis into action once more. Tuvok leveled a phaser at the group, set for a mild stun, and fired. The corridor became silent as the combatants sank to the floor. Being in the center of the fray, Chakotay was stunned along with the rest, and woke to find Tuvok standing over him, offering him a hand up. Accepting it, he stood on shaky legs.
"I think you enjoyed that," he said, straightening his uniform, trying to regain his balance.
"The beam was set for a wide-dispersal pattern," Tuvok stated in his usual monotone. "There was no way I could avoid hitting you."
"Too bad, huh?" As the others started to come to, Tuvok and Chakotay helped them up and once again segregated them to opposite sides of the corridor.
"All right, who wants to start?" Chakotay questioned the people before him. No one volunteered any information. "No one has anything to say? Couldn't have been much of an argument. Put them all on report Tuvok."
"Wait a minute!" Someone called out from behind him. "I was just heading to my quarters when I got sucked into this fight! I didn't start it!"
Chakotay turned to see a young crewman with a bloody nose. He didn't recognize the man, so he knew he was one of "hers." He had to stop thinking like that. It was his job to mesh these crews, and the first person he needed to start with was himself.
"Then who did start it?"
"That man there," someone else accused, pointing at Dalby.
"Ken?" Chakotay asked, waiting for an explanation.
"Well, I. . . ."
"Yes?" Chakotay demanded. Even Tuvok looked like he was getting fed up with their stalling.
"He was picking on Gerron," Dalby said, pointing to a different Starfleeter. "When I stepped in, he told me to mind my own business. Then he started in on how we didn't deserve the right to be 'allowed' the freedom of the ship, or to wear these uniforms. Well, I told him he could keep his fucking Starfleet uniform and his fucking Starfleet attitude! I guess things got a little out of hand after that."
"You," Chakotay said, nodding to the man Dalby had indicated. "What's your name, Ensign?"
"Caldwell, Sir."
"I take it you have the same problem with me in this uniform as you do the rest of the Maquis?" Caldwell started to speak, but then thought better of it. His argument was with the man, or rather boy, he'd been forced to accept as a cabinmate. The vacancy he was filling was made by a man who'd been his best friend since his Academy days, and his feelings over that death were too fresh to just push aside. Terna Nal had been killed in the first fighting with the Maquis, when a control panel had exploded beneath his fingers. It had been a freak accident, but that didn't help Caldwell accept Nal's death any easier. He would have gladly accepted another crewman into his cabin, another Starfleet crewman, but this sniveling little Bajoran Maquis was too much. Every time he looked at him, all he could think of was Terna, and how he'd left a wife and children on Earth while he completed this mission, before they moved back to his homeworld of Lyseria.
"Well?" Chakotay demanded.
"The Captain has confidence in your abilities, and I trust her judgment," he answered, staring at the bulkhead instead of his new Commanding officer. Chakotay knew the Ensign before him would just as soon shoot him as accept an order from him, but that wasn't the issue at the moment.
"Captain," one of the Maquis said, stepping out of her place against the wall to address him, "If we just didn't have to share quarters with them it would make things a lot easier." All the people in the hallway were nodding in agreement. Neither side was looking forward to working with the other all day, then having to spend their off duty hours together as well.
"Commander," Chakotay corrected her. "My rank on this ship is 'Commander.' I am no longer a member of the Maquis, and neither are you. You're a member of this crew, and the sooner you start accepting that fact, and finding a way to work through your differences, the better. To separate you by having Maquis in one room and Starfleet in another only emphasizes the differences we're trying to overcome."
"Do the assignments have to be permanent?" Caldwell asked. "I mean if we find someone we're better suited to, could we switch?"
Chakotay thought for a moment. "I don't have a problem with that. How about you, Tuvok?"
"If both parties are agreeable, it would be satisfactory," Tuvok stated, a silent observer up to that point.
"All right," Chakotay said, rubbing chin. "There will have to be an official report," he said, staring at the Chief of Security, but I'll let this slide, today. We'll chalk it up to 'growing pains.' But don't think for a moment that it's a habit of mine. If there *is* a next time, I'll throw the book at you. *All* of you," he said, leveling his gaze at the Maquis. "Those of you with injuries, report to Sick Bay. Dismissed."
As the hallway cleared, Tuvok stepped over to the Commander. "Do you feel it was wise to let them off so easily?"
Chakotay glared at Tuvok. Officially he could cite him for questioning his orders, but decided to grant him the same leniency he had the others. "Yes I do, or I wouldn't have done it. There's enough pressure on all of them right now, I didn't feel it was necessary to rub salt into the wound."
"As you wish," Tuvok merely stated as he headed for the turbo-lift. How was it that a man who claimed to have no emotions seemed to be able to express his contempt so well?