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worldcatlas · 10 months

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VOY: Caretaker (Part 1)

Just like its predecessor, Deep Space Nine, Voyager opens with an expository text crawl explaining the current galactic situation. We learn about the Maquis – a plucky, non-Federation rebel group fighting the Cardassian occupation – then jump right into a heated space battle!

Fire! Raise shields! And somebody turn off that damned smoke machine!

As one would expect from a ragtag group of resourceful underdogs, the Maquis wear mismatched outfits made for trouble; we’re introduced to Chakotay and B’Elanna, both sporting rolled-up sleeves and tough leather vests.

Forearms mean business.

Tuvok is here too, although we don’t get a good look at his outfit from any of the angles in this scene. Chakotay makes up for it, however, by giving us a bit of a catwalk look at his duds: the patterned shirt is lovely, and probably meant to evoke his Native American heritage.

Actually, this may be the least problematic reference to his “heritage.”

Next, we’re taken to a sunny, verdant New Zealand penal colony, where Captain Janeway is busy picking out a boy toy. Unsurprisingly, we’re working with the same Starfleet uniforms currently in use on DS9, with a coloured section on the shoulders indicating department, and a grey turtleneck with rank pips underneath.

Get used to it – Voyager won’t be receiving wardrobe updates for about the next seven years.

Janeway finds the man she’s looking for – the boyishly handsome Nick Locarno Tom Paris – and hands him a “get out of jail free” card in the form of an invitation to join her crew. Tom considers her offer, weighing the excitement of adventure against having to give up his stylish prison coverall; the garment is concrete grey, with subtle shade differences across the chest and shoulders, not unlike a Starfleet uniform. I appreciate the asymmetry of the dark grey extending down the left sleeve, but not the right. The flap closure at the front is a little bit sexy, too, and along with the rolled-up sleeves, gives a “greasemonkey” vibe we’ll come to see a lot of from Tom.

The ankle monitor makes a nice accessory, too.

Meanwhile, Voyager is docked at Deep Space Nine, and we cut to a character we all know and love: Quark! …In the process of ripping off young Harry Kim. Although Quark’s ensemble technically belongs to another show, I still have to award it “best outfit” for the episode. The matching teal hues in the pants, shirt, and jacket is a beautiful bit of coordination, and it’s obvious the costume department has had a few seasons to perfect the character design. It’s not unusual for a Ferengi to dress so lavishly, but Harry should probably take it as a warning sign that he’s about to be ripped off.

I’m sure he’ll be fine.

Up on the ship, Janeway has a chat with her fiancé Mark, who’s sporting a handsome wool-looking jacket in a dark mustard colour. Mark only gets about six lines and thirty seconds of screen time, so his outfit has to really pull its weight here building a character: handsome but approachable, smart but unpretentious, still shops at GAP in his 50s.

Sensible. I meant sensible.

There are no new costumes for a while as we meet the ship and crew, but we do get a few nice close-ups of Janeway’s lovely, elaborate updo – a more complicated style than the “bun of steel” she’ll wear in coming episodes.

Ignore the wig glue. It’s just… space sweat.

I suspect the stylist wanted all those extra swirlies in there because, once the action begins and our crew gets roughed up a bit, Action-Tousled Janeway looks amazing.

Slay, girl.

Harry and Tom go to sickbay, which is going to be full of patients very soon, and is also on fire. It’s hard to get a good look, but Harry puts on a cool Starfleet-issue oven mitt with metallic fabric to extinguish the fire.

Was that hole always there?

The least visible costume prop of all time.

In all the commotion, the crew realizes they’ve been zooped across the galaxy – 75,000 lightyears from home. But just when you thought we’d be stuck on a spaceship with one set of clothes for the next seventy years, we’re zooped again… to a southern country farm?! It looks exactly like Earth, and what looks like a perfectly human grandma comes out with cookies and lemonade to greet Janeway and co.

Floral fabric, ivory cameo, plate of cookies… yep, that’s a grandma.

She’s not alone, and soon the farm is full of completely “normal” “humans” having a good time, dancing and playing music. It’s literally the friendliest alien welcome party in history, but the Voyager crew are spooked. Moreover, they seem confused by the folksy straw hats and denim overalls.

Highly suspicious flannel.

With one exception: Tom Paris has quickly made friends with one of the illusory farm girls, a young woman in a cute printed dress with a belt, mary janes, and bright white ankle socks.

First contact: cottagecore edition.

However, Paris’ new friend gets a bit upset when they turn down her extremely tempting offers of a “real private” root cellar, a duck pond, and deviled eggs, and suddenly the farm folk aren’t so welcoming. The crew is zooped back to the ship – mostly. Harry Kim is missing.

Get outta here! And take your synthetic fabrics with you!

Discovering a similar absence on the Maquis ship – B’Elanna is also missing – the two crews decide to work together to track down their people.

As they discuss plans, we finally get a good look at Tuvok’s Maquis disguise: he wears a cropped, open jacket made from a textured brown-green fabric, with sleeves in a lovely deep blue. The trim between the different fabrics is subtly shiny, giving the impression of leather straps. More importantly though, he wears an orange shirt underneath that appears to be stained at the collar – is that greenish hue Vulcan blood??

What happened to you in the Maquis, Tuvok?!

The episode isn’t out of costumes for us yet, though, and it’s a hard pivot from the dirty, worn-in clothes of the Maquis – as the viewpoint switches to that of our missing crewmembers, we find them in white clothing that resembles hospital gowns, albeit with an awkward strap closure that goes all the way around the back.

You know that strap has come undone and dipped in the toilet at LEAST once.

We also get our first look at the Ocampa, who at the moment are also clad in white, gauzy outfits. Unlike the “patients,” they wear strange fruit-netting-ish infinity scarves around their neck and head.

Keeps their melon safe.

The mesh fabric looks like it might be some kind of protective gear, but no, as we explore more of the compound, we see the truth: Ocampans just don’t know how to wear a scarf.

So close…

#star trek #st voyager #ocampa

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angsty-violet · 4 years

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Agony - Chapter 11

Agony Masterpost

@whumptober2020

This time when Kell’an came for him, Tuvok fought. He wasn’t fully recovered from the bloodletting, but he was tired of just allowing the man to torture him. Even if it was in vain, he needed to fight back. He needed to prove to himself above all else that he wasn’t broken. That when Voyager came for him, that he would be willing to fight his way out.

The willingness didn’t make his efforts any more effective.

Kell’an had indulged him for a few minutes. Letting him attempt to land blows on his unfamiliar musculature. Once he had grown tired of the game, he turned on the shock collar.

Tuvok fought through the sensation, though. He had been shocked a lot during his incarceration. His body was adjusting to the feeling of electricity coursing through him and allowing his mind to overcome the sensations. With enough practice, he would be able to ignore it completely. That would be the most significant asset when it came to his escape.

Right now, the only thing that was really keeping him there was the shock collar.

That didn’t make the experience of being shocked any more pleasant, but it gave him confidence in his plan to escape. Although, it included the dubious step of being electrocuted as many times as Kell’an would in as short a period. The more he was shocked, the faster his body would adjust.

Kell’an watched in admiration as he fought the sensations until he gave in to the pain. Then he collapsed limply on the floor and was forced to allow Kell’an to hoist him back up. He had brought back the burning device along with a knife. This time, he bound Tuvok’s ankles to the floor to keep his movements to a minimum. He might be a psycho, but he wasn’t stupid. He would not make the same mistake twice.

“You know, darling, I think I know why you wanted to get rid of my other subject. You can pretend it was altruism if you want, but I know it was jealousy. You were jealous that I was spending my time with another object. Don’t worry, you are my main experiment, and you will be until we reach a conclusion. I can see why you would get upset, though. I do spend most of my time here with you. You didn’t want to risk losing me to someone else. It’s alright, I forgive you.”

“You may believe whatever you want. However, I released Reinchaln because it was the right thing to do. They had a mate and children that depended on them. They did not deserve to be tortured and murdered by anyone, least of all you. It was within my power to grant them freedom. You may choose to believe that it was out of jealously, but I will assure you, it was not.”

Kell’an picked up the knife and traced the tip of it up Tuvok’s chest. He wasn’t cutting yet, just gently threatening. “Of course, darling. All altruistic. In my experience, though, people rarely do things for nothing in return. Especially when those creatures are being subjected to horrible standards. That particular experiment didn’t turn out the way I had planned. I had thought you would use him as a distraction to try and get away yourself.”

Tuvok’s head shot up. “You planned it?”

“Of course, I planned it. Didn’t it all seem just a little too convenient to you? The doors being easy enough to open, the escape to the outside world as easy as breathing. I had assumed one thing, then when you did something else, I was surprised and furious. There you were, defying my expectations of selfishness inherent in all creatures. Now I see why you did it, though.”

“Vulcans are not selfish. They always believe in placing the needs of the many over the needs of the few or the one. They had a family that relied on them to return to. My family is thousands of light-years away and will survive even if I don’t return. Their needs very clearly took precedence over mine. That is why I let them go.”

“Such strong convictions you Vulcans have. I can’t wait to test them even further.”

Tom Paris knew that next to the Captain and possibly Neelix, he was the first person to truly warm up to Tuvok. His dedication to justice and willingness to believe that Tom was innocent until proven guilty appealed to him greatly. He had worked hard to improve himself from the man that had ended up in that penal colony, and he was glad to see that at least one person was willing to believe he had actually changed.

Although Tuvok had given him the line about “truth” and acting completely bipartisan, his willingness had said otherwise. Tom had met Vulcans before. If Tuvok had genuinely believed that he was the one who had done it, he would’ve done a cursory investigation and nothing else. Instead, Tuvok had dug at the truth until it had come out. Saving Tom’s life and sanity in the process.

That wasn’t something he was willing to forget. Nor was he ready to forget Tuvok bending to the crew’s wishes even though he had been right about the Vidiians attacking them. The crew had said they were willing to take the risk for the Captain and Chakotay, and Tuvok had allowed them to find them.

Tom had been one of the loudest protestors when it came to leaving the system that Tuvok had disappeared in. He didn’t think it fair that they were leaving him behind when he had done so much for every single one of their crew members.

The Captain had insisted that it would be what he would’ve wanted, and Tom had known she was right. That’s why he had been so enthusiastic when they had picked up Tuvok’s message buoy. His heart had leaped into his throat when the Captain mentioned people dissenting. There had been no voices, though. It made Tom’s heart swell with pride over his crew. That even the ones that didn’t like Tuvok were willing to risk their lives to see him back on their ship.

#whumptober2020 #no.11 #defiance #star trek voyager #fic #torture #dehumanization #hurt tuvok #protective crew

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summahsunlight · 4 years

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This Way Became My Journey, CH.11

Word Count: 3192

Pairings: Janeway/Chakotay, Paris/OFC

Characters: Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay, Tom Paris, Sarah Barrett (OC), Harry Kim, B’Elanna Torres, Kes, Neelix, the Doctor

A/N: Here is the next chapter! I hope you like it :)

One week after Voyager is taken from the Alpha Quadrant...

It wasn't even eight in the morning yet and Lieutenant Joe Carey already found himself with a bloody nose in sickbay. It wasn't exactly the way he had pictured his day starting. Already their new first officer was glaring at him hotly. "She's out of her mind!" Carey shouted attempting to sit up. The holographic doctor shoved him back down onto the biobed which caused the man to scream in pain.

Tuvok looked at the man with the same calm and emotionless demeanor that he held with everybody. "You will explain what happened, Mister Carey," Tuvok ordered as the doors to sickbay opened and Sarah Barrett made her way across the cabin towards the group.

Carey did not look pleased to see her there. "What I get hit in the nose and I'm the one who needs the shrink?"

"Lieutenant Barrett is here by my request," Chakotay said. "Maybe with her help we can figure out a way for you all to get along down there."

"Your nose is broken in three places," the Doctor informed the fuming Carey. "Try not to move while I fix it." He walked away but immediately Carey was sitting up again.

Sarah stepped closer to the biobed. "Why did she hit you Lietuenant?"

He sighed, angrily. "We were having a disagreement about the power grid. She wanted to realign the lateral plasma conduit. I told her that would cause an overload," He answered her, wiping the blood a way from his nose with a cloth. "As usual she wouldn't listen. So I told her to step aside and let me handle it. She pushed me a way from the console…and I pushed her back," he became defensive when he saw the accusing look in Barrett's blue eyes. "The next thing I knew I was on the deck with blood pouring down my face!"

She should have hit you harder, Barrett thought.

"Then what happened?" she heard Chakotay ask.

He scoffed. "She said sorry, maybe you should go to sickbay."

The Doctor had returned with his tools to fix the broken nose and forced Carey to lay back down again. "At least she gave you some good advice." Barrett rolled her eyes to the notice of no one while Carey gasped out in pain at being forced back down onto the bed. "Now," the Doctor ordered, "hold still."

Chakotay made eye contact with Tuvok and turned to go. "Don't worry," he assured the Vulcan. "I'll handle this."

Barrett glanced behind her to see the other two men leaving. As she sprinted after them she heard Carey scream, "You keep that woman out my engines and everything will be fine!"

She wasn't so sure she felt comfortable with Chakotay handling this. "Commander," she called, forcing Chakotay and Tuvok to halt their progress. "What did you mean when you said you would handle this?" she asked him, folding her arms across her chest. "B'Elanna has commited a serious offense in Starfleet protocol. Are you up to date on the proper punishment for this?"

Chakotay glared at her. He knew she was only trying to help but her getting involved everything was beginning to wear on his nerves. "She isn't Starfleet, she's Maquis."

"When you agreed to join forces with us, I was under the impression that you were joining us as a Starfleet crew," she mocked him. "Torres should be thrown in the brig for the remainder of the trip for hitting a fellow officer, a senior officer at that."

"Carey is not Chief Engineer," Chakotay pointed out to her.

"He is the most qualified person down there right now to act as a senior officer," she snapped back.

"Counselor Barrett is correct sir," Tuvok intervened. "Miss Torres would be court martial for this offense if we were in Federation space."

Chakotay felt his temper rising. "But we're not in Federation space, and even if we were, my people wouldn't be on this ship."

"You have to stop thinking of them as your people, Commander," Barrett retorted, hotly. "Or the Starfleet members of this crew are going to think you're playing favorites." She put her hands on her hips. "Why did you call me down here anyways if you weren't going to listen to me?"

"To tell you the truth Counselor, I'm sick of listening to you," Chakotay snapped. "Now if the two of you don't mind, I will handle B'Elanna." He turned to go, but Barrett stopped him.

"And the Captain?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll tell her when I'm ready," Chakotay said, disappearing into a turbo lift.

Barrett glanced at Tuvok. "This isn't the first complaint that I've received about Torres," she said thoughtfully. "Captain Janeway should know about it."

"Indeed, as chief of security I will be the one to inform her," Tuvok said. "In the meantime, I would like you to pay another visit to Ms. Torres."

The young counselor nodded her head. "Yes sir, I don't know how much good it's going to do though."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow for a moment before responding, "One can only hope for the best."

Kathryn Janeway hurried along the corridor to get to the turbo lift. She was already late reporting to the bridge that morning, thanks to Michael somehow rewiring her door and locking the family in their quarters until Kathryn had been able to fix it, by that time she was more than twenty minutes behind schedule. Ava had then pushed her back another five minutes more because the child refused to get her shoes on.

After an extensive battle with her one year old, Kathryn had just been ready to step out the door when Michael threw a tantrum that the toy he wanted to bring to the ready room with him that morning was missing. She had torn the quarters apart looking for the toy, only to realize ten minutes later that it had been left behind in their apartment in San Francisco. Now that she was almost an hour late, she didn't have the time to completely calm Michael down before she grabbed the bag of things she had packed the night before, and dragged the child out of the quarters, sobbing along the way about some toy that he had perhaps only played with once and Kathryn had thought he had cared less about.

The crew walking the corridors did all they could to move out of her way so she could walk past them. She must have been a sight, carrying a one year old, and a bag slung over her shoulder, dragging a crying five year old behind her. Not the text book picture of a Starfleet captain, that was for sure. However, she was so flustered at that moment, she didn't really care what she looked like and what the crew thought of her.

"That was my favorite toy, Mama," Michael sobbed as they stepped into the turbo lift. "How could you forget it?"

Of course this is my fault, Kathryn thought, biting hard down onto her lip so she wouldn't lose it. "Deck one," she said, not bothering to answer him. She had learned a long time ago that it was better to ignore his tantrums then to indulge him. The lift started moving rapidly to her relief. As the lift came to a stop and the doors swished open, she heard something fall to the floor with a thump. Glancing down she saw her combadge skip out of the lift and into the corridor. Ava was giggling wildly.

Closing her eyes and saying a silent prayer, she stepped out of the lift and towards the spot where Ava had tossed her combadge. Leaning down proved to be difficult but she wasn't going to let a bag and a baby stop her. However, Michael was going to prove to be harder, since he wouldn't release her hand so she could pick the combadge up. She pulled on it several times before turning to look at him, sternly. "Let go of Mama's hand so I can pick up my combadge, Michael."

The little boy shook his head. "I don't wanna."

Kathryn ran her tongue over her lips and decided it was pointless to fight with him in this state. Managing to balance Ava onto her thigh, she wiggled her other hand free and scooped the combadge up. With a feeling of triumph, Kathryn proceeded into her ready room, dropped the bag onto the floor by her desk, plopped Ava down into her desk chair, and used her hand to pry Michael's grasp off her other. The boy wasn't too happy about that and started to cry even louder than before, standing in the middle of the ready room, stomping his feet.

"That will get you nowhere," Kathryn told him, moving towards her replicator. "Coffee black," she ordered, and a metallic cup materialized before her eyes, steaming hot. She took the mug and was about to savor it's bitter taste when she turned around to see Ava crawl up onto her desk, and push her personal computer off of it onto the floor. The computer broke apart.

"Uh-oh," Ava cooed, looking at the broken computer with innocent blue eyes.

The broken computer was the last straw. Kathryn scooped Ava up off the desk, went to place her down on the upper level and turned to Michael, who was sniffling in the middle of the lower level, the broken computer had taken his attention away from the toy that he missed and ceased his sobs. "Do you two think you can play over here quietly while I try to get some work done?" the mother snapped at the two children. "I'm already behind as it is because I spent the whole morning looking for your toy Michael!"

Michael rubbed his nose on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Mama."

"Now, the bag is over there, it has things to keep you occupied," Kathryn said, gesturing towards the shoulder bag she had left near her desk. "I suggest that you go through it and find something to do while I work."

"Okay."

With a frustrated sigh Kathryn fell into her chair and reached for the stack of PADDs on her desk, not even bothering to pick up the broken computer, it was after all useless to her now.

She heard Michael shuffling about in the bag and satisfied that he was finding something to keep himself busy, she settled into reading the first report in the stack. It was one problem after another it seemed, simple things that could have been dealt with if they had access to a starbase, however, things were not the case in their situation and they were scrambling to find answers. The hardest being the power supply. It had slowly started to decay the other day and if this report was any indication then replicators were going to go off line at some point and who knew how long they could all survive on emergency rations.

The personnel situation wasn't looking too good either. They had lost their chief engineer and chief medical officer, along with the first officer and chief helmsman when they had been flung into the Delta Quadrant by the Caretaker. Even though she had found replacements for first officer and conn, she wasn't sure if she was going to be lucky enough to find as qualified a candidate as Chakotay or Tom Paris. The Maquis just didn't have the discipline and some of the Starfleet officers didn't have the experience.

Not to mention she had her own personal needs. The children needed a childcare provider while she was on duty, them staying in the ready room was already proving to not be working out. She also had to take into consideration that Michael needed schooling, he was after all five years old and would be going into kindergarten, if they were back on Earth, in the fall. But who on this ship really had the time to devote entirely to baby-sitting and teaching her kids? And who would be willing? It wasn't as if their duties entailed baby-sitting their commanding officer's children.

Finished with the first PADD, Kathryn placed it in a separate pile and began on the second one. The door chimed and she placed the PADD back into the stack, calling out, "Come in."

Tuvok strode into the room with the same stoic look upon his face. "Captain, may I have a moment of your time?"

"Certainly Tuvok, what can I do for you?"

"There was an incident down in Engineering this morning," Tuvok reported, not that it was going to be surprising to Kathryn. Engineering had been a disaster since they had started on their journey home, especially since there was not a senior officer down there. "Miss Torres struck Lieutenant Carey, breaking his nose in three places. Commander Chakotay has asked to deal with it, despite what I think. However, I will be making a full note of it in my security log. I also thought it important for you to know."

Kathryn pressed her knuckles to her mouth for a moment, letting the news set in. "Is Counselor Barrett aware of this new development?"

"Commander Chakotay asked that she not be involved in this," Tuvok stated.

The Captain shook her head. "At this point, I really don't care what Commander Chakotay thinks. I understand his wanting to look out for his people, however, Counselor Barrett is the best person to deal with this matter. Have her report to B'Elanna's quarters. I want her to sit down and talk to her."

"Understood Captain," Tuvok said, before leaving the ready room.

The shattering of glass caused Kathryn's head to spin about and look at the upper level of her ready room. Ava was standing on the sofa, looking down on the floor at what had been a vase of flowers. Now it lay in fragments on the floor. Maybe when Sarah's done with B'Elanna, Kathryn thought, she can stop my daughter's sudden fascination with breaking things.

Sarah Barrett pressed the door chime outside of B'Elanna Torres' quarters and waited to be admitted. After several seconds of standing there, nothing happened, so she pressed the button again. And again she was let in. "Computer confirm that B'Elanna Torres is in her quarters."

"That is affirmative."

Sarah frowned, Chakotay must have given her the heads up that I was coming eventually. Typing in her security access code, the doors slid open and she was facing a very seething looking B'Elanna.

"I didn't want you coming in," the Klingon hissed at her. "I guess you can't take a hint."

"Sorry, Captain's orders," Sarah replied, stepping into the room. "Apparently we're supposed to have a little chat about what happened down in Engineering this morning. I've already been to speak with Lieutenant Carey and several others who were in Engineering when the…incident occurred. The only side of the story I haven't heard is yours."

B'Elanna blinked for a moment, staring at the young woman. Chakotay had not wanted to hear her side of the story, lashing out at her that he had made it one lousy day for him. Like it hasn't been lousy for me, she lamented. She didn't mean to lose her temper; she had told Harry Kim that much when they had been on Ocampa, but it happened, and usually she felt remorse later for it happening. However, she couldn't say she felt sorry for Joe Carey. He had been pushing her buttons since the moment she joined the Engineering staff. "My side of the story? Is that a captain's order as well?"

"Not exactly, but if I'm to work out the problems, then I need to know both sides of the story," Sarah responded to her, crossing her arms over her chest. "You can either make this easier for me and for your self, or you can make it difficult by giving me attitude. It's your choice in the end, but I strongly recommend you cooperate."

"What's there to tell, I hit him because he's an idiot," B'Elanna snapped.

"That sounds like a perfectly good reason to hit someone," Sarah snapped back just as sarcastically. "Let me be blunt Miss Torres, we've been down this road several times already and our journey home isn't even a week old yet. Quite frankly I'm getting sick of this trip. It seems that no matter what I say to you, you don't listen to me."

B'Elanna scoffed. "I don't have to listen to some Starfleet brat tell me how to control my temper."

"You're right, you don't have too, but on the flip side, you shouldn't have too," Sarah replied.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you should have a hold on your temper at this stage in the game," the Counselor shot back. "Hitting a fellow officer is not going to get you brownie points with the Captain."

B'Elanna didn't dare to tell her that she could care less what Captain Janeway thought of her. "So what do you plan on doing with me, Counselor? I hear the Vulcan wants to court martial me."

"I don't want to court martial you, although, if we were home now, this wouldn't even be an issue," Sarah replied. "However if you want to get back to work, I strongly suggest that you try to make amends with Lieutenant Carey. It's a long trip to be holding a grudge against someone and it's also a long trip to be cooped up in here, don't you think?"

Chakotay had told her the same thing, but hearing it coming out of the mouth of the counselor, it suddenly hit B'Elanna that these people weren't kidding her when they said they were going to seriously considering either confining to her quarters or to the brig. Perhaps it was time to start listening to them, because being stuck with Joe Carey breathing down her neck when she knew she was the better engineer, was far better than spending seventy-five years in a cell. "Chakotay wants me to do the same thing, but I don't think either you understand what an incredibly pompous…man Carey can be. It's not going to be easy."

Sarah turned about to leave, glancing over her shoulder, "No, but it's the hard things that we have to go through that make us better people." As she stepped out into the corridor she fully faced B'Elanna, "Maybe Lieutenant Carey will see you in a different light if you swallow your pride and call a truce."

"A truce? Between Starfleet and Maquis?"

A small laced Sarah's face. "Stranger things have happened before."

B'Elanna stared at the door long after Sarah let them room, then setting her jaw she stepped out of her quarters and proceeded to Engineering, perhaps the counselor was right, and apologizing was the right course of action to take, it was, at least worth the shot, even if in the end it didn't have the results that many were hoping, at least she would have the satisfaction of knowing she had at least tried.

#star trek voyager #star trek voyager fanfiction #kathryn janeway #chakotay #janeway x chakotay #tom paris #sarah barrett (oc)#tom paris x ofc #tuvok #harry kim #b'elanna torres #neelix #kes #the doctor (emh)#this way became my journey

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delwin47 · 5 years

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Arcs (ST:VOY fic)

Something I found in my drafts folder while looking for something else. Or rather two somethings that I found, both partial answers to a prompt sent by @pg1890 probably a couple years ago. I grafted them together and sent her the result. She was kind enough to beta her shamelessly belated gift and so posting it here as well for anyone who might care to take a look…

(if you prefer, now on AO3 here or on FFN here)

Arc, def. in Astronomy, the part of a circle representing the apparent course of a physical body across space and time...or something like that...

...

“I don’t have time for this.”

Tom means to give her some space, to try again later. He reaches out to grab her hand – to give a quick squeeze before getting back to his own long list of repairs -- and stops dead.

Because there is blood on her knuckles.

“What happened to your hand?”

B’Elanna snatches the hand back, covers the blood on the knuckles of her right hand with her fingers of her left. “Nothing.” Tom’s eyebrows climb. “I mean,” she gestures before again covering her hand, “we got shaken around a lot down here. You know.”

“And that caused you to throw your fist into a bulkhead?”

Two crewmen pass between them; that’s all the time it takes for B’Elanna’s confusion to morph into quiet fury. “Back off, Tom.”

“What the hell did Burke mean to you?”

Somewhere in Tom’s mind he knows that he’s crossed a line – crossed it a couple of steps ago in fact. And, anywhere else, they would already be at each other’s throats. But they’re in Engineering and its chief remains dangerously quiet.

“Fuck you.”

She spins on her heel, melting into the composed chaos of her staff and her engines. Swinn and Mendez close ranks behind her, blocking her from view, leaving Tom standing alone and ignored.

A year ago would he have left it at that?

Had he? Had he walked away – let her walk away – when she was bloodied and wounded?

Hell, a year ago he hadn’t even noticed the blood.

But it isn’t a year ago and he finds her deep in the guts of her ship, somewhere along Jefferies tube 47 between the ninth and tenth intersects. She has a flux coupler in hand and is standing under an open panel, but she’s staring into space, unmoving.

“B’Elanna?”

She starts at the sound of her name and then, with a snarl, reaches up to the open panel and becomes very busy with the work she was ignoring a moment before. “How’d you find me?”

“We’re on a ship; you have a communicator.”

She grunts. “You wouldn’t get a clear reading on me down here.” He guesses she’d made sure of that. “Who gave me up?”

It had been Carey, who had also noticed his chief’s bloodied knuckles and drawn conclusions similar to Tom’s own. But the information had come with no little reluctance and at the cost of a more than well-deserved berating for the boorishness of Tom’s earlier behavior.

“Now you know I’m not going to tell you that.”

She responds with a barrage of muttered Klingon and the tool she is using slips, causing a cascade of sparks to explode over her hands. “Fuck,” she yelps, slamming into the opposite wall of the narrow space as she jumps back, clutching her now twice-injured hand to her chest. Tom winces but dares not move toward her to help: the next move needs to be hers.

He waits, giving her what time and space he can, bracing for whatever she has to throw at him.

Instead, she gives a half-strangled sob and slumps down onto the floor of the tube, her spine hunched against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest, still cradling her hand.

It’s as much of an invitation as he’s going to get. He folds himself down on the floor beside her, ignoring the protest of overly long limbs.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She nods, not looking at him. “I know.”

“I saw the blood and I stopped thinking. I never should have…”

“I know,” she repeats, but now tilts her head and shifts tired eyes toward him. “It’s okay, really.”

And maybe it is.

“Can I see your hand?”

To his surprise, she holds it out to him. With herculean effort, he manages not to react as he examines the cuts and bruises and now the burns.

“I assume you brought a dermal regenerator?”

Tom looks up in further surprise: he had, but with little to no expectation that she would let him treat her injuries.

She shrugs almost imperceptibly. “It hurts.”

He nods and reaches into his jacket pocket to extract the instrument and a small flask.

“This might help with the pain as well.” He unscrews the top before passing it for her to take awkwardly in her left hand while he begins work on her right.

She sniffs the contents. “Drinking whiskey in a Jefferies tube. Do I even want to know how many regs this violates?”

“Probably not.” His attention is on her hand.

Shrugging, she takes a long swallow. He’s done what he can with the dermal regenerator. Returning it to his pocket, he gives her a long look.

“It’s traditional,” he says: “A drink to fallen friends.”

She’s already swallowed or he’s sure she would have spit out her mouthful.

“Max.”

He waits. Time and space; space and time. He’s a pilot; these are his media. He waits.

“Not much of a friend,” she finishes her own thought but takes another drink.

“He had been.”

“Not at the end.”

Her face is dry. He’d once thought B’Elanna Torres didn’t cry; he knows better now. But her tears are rare, rarer even than that particular smile which he sometimes thinks is for him alone.

Or had it been for Max Burke as well?

Grow up, Thomas.

“Tell me about him.”

She shakes her head, no.

“It could help.”

She turns, her eyes bright. “Tom. You of all people don’t want to listen to me talk about Max.”

“I want to listen to you,” he says, almost evenly. “About Max Burke or anything else.”

She considers and then nods, handing back the flask.

Tom takes a healthy swallow.

“He was ahead of me at the Academy, going into his fourth year when I was coming in for my first.” She tilts her head, thinking. “A year behind you.”

Commander Maxwell Burke. First officer of the Equinox. Max Burke had been pinning on his third pip while Tom had been landlocked, staring up at the backwards spinning stars of the southern hemisphere. And he’d have been accepting his lieutenancy while Tom was drowning nightmares of spiraling shuttles with whatever local poison could be found on the cheap.

“How did you meet?” He fidgets with the flask in his hands, wishing he could somehow inconspicuously take another swallow. Or three.

“Running. The Decathlon team,” B’Elanna clarifies and then almost smiles, caught in the memory. Tom’s fingers crush against the hard surface of the flask. “He was the team captain and responsible for setting up training schedules for the first year cadets.” She glances at Tom. “We argued. A lot.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Tom manages to keep his tone light – there is a script to follow here after all - as something small and unpleasant claws its way through his gut and he unwillingly envisions where those arguments probably led.

“What was he like? Back then?”

B’Elanna turns away and that makes it a little easier. “Ambitious but easy going. Confident.” She shrugs. “A natural leader.”

Tom parses that: the math doesn’t work out, not completely.

“Why did you like him?” He doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to know.

Another shrug. “He was a friend when I didn’t have anyone else. Someone who wouldn’t let me drive him away.” One corner of her mouth quirks, hovering between grin and grimace. “He could even make me laugh, sometimes.”

Fuck.

He takes a long drink of whiskey then and almost leaves. Almost sends her Chakotay or Harry or anyone else.

But then she pulls the flask out of his hand and takes another swallow herself. “What a fucking idiot I am. How could I not have seen what he was?”

He’s back on script: “Maybe he wasn’t that then.”

“Of course he was. People don’t change. Not that much.”

And Tom’s world freezes, time and space collapsing in on themselves.

…standing in the bright autumn Auckland sunlight, informing Janeway he has no problem helping to track down his Maquis friends…

…finishing off the last of his foul tasting Breshtani ale and surveying the dimly lit border colony dive for any opportunity to sell himself for another…

…his thumb hovering over the imprint button as he stares at the fabricated incident report, wishing that signing it could make it true…

“Shit. Tom – I didn’t mean…”

Endless stars surround them as they float weightlessly through space and what time they have left slips away. “Do you think I’ve changed?”

Tom shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“In his place, you could never have…”

“You don’t know that. He thought it was a matter of survival.” And for his crew, not just himself. How much had Tom done for so much less?

“He betrayed me, Tom. You would never…”

She stops. Tom can all but feel the late afternoon heat of the Auckland sun burning his skin. He holds her gaze. Steadily.

“Shit.”

She slumps back against the wall.

Tom waits again as the universe slowly stretches itself back out. He considers the force of coherent tetryon beams that bend time and space to catapult starships across the galaxy and pull on the arcs of human lives, flexing and transposing until a hero becomes a monster and a dispossessed mercenary might find his way back to a family and a home.

At last, B’Elanna holds out her good hand and Tom passes her the flask.

She raises it in a toast: “To the Maxwell Burke I knew.”

She takes a swallow and then hands the flask back to Tom who joins her in a tribute that is without absolution.

#things i find in my drafts folder #(wishing it was)spring cleaning #fanfic #star trek voyager

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joyful-voyager · 6 years

Text

Kiss #12: In Grief

@cherrypie23uk asked for this one for Janeway and Chakotay, post-Endgame. I wrote it while listening to a baseball game at work, so blame the Cubs if it’s a bit disjointed.

Kiss #12 – In Grief

After a methodical search of the complex, she finds him huddled on the floor of a tiny, filthy cell.

He's barely identifiable as himself. If he weren't lying on his side where she can see his face and recognize the distinctive tattoo, she might not know it was him at all. He's been stripped to the waist and his uniform trousers are in shreds. His boots and socks are gone. But it's him; beneath the grime and the dried blood coating his torso and the grimace twisting his features, it's him.

The Special Forces commando accompanying her isn't so sure. The man lowers his weapon and raises his tricorder, but before he can announce a positive identification, she has dropped her own weapon and bent to her knees, heedless of the pool of blood and bile that immediately soaks her uniform. She hesitates, mindful of his injuries, and then lays a hand along the side of his face.

“Chakotay?"

His eyelids flutter but he shows no other signs of consciousness.

The commando squats beside her, tricorder still in hand. “Concussion, bruised trachea, dislocated shoulder, three fractured ribs, pneumonia, ruptured spleen, shattered patella, third degree —"

“Stop," she orders. “Just stop." The commando hands her his tricorder and the small medikit on his belt. “We've got to get him out of here before that EM shielding is back up."

"Sooner than that." The commando meets her gaze. He nods toward Chakotay's tattered trousers and the pool of blood around him. “Femoral artery. It’s not severed, but it’s bad enough. And I didn’t even mention the internal bleeding."

“Damn."

She takes the hypo and passes the kit to the commando, who fishes out a pressure bandage and gently wraps it around Chakotay's thigh. “Maybe one of the other teams has an open antigrav unit." Rising, he makes for the cell entrance and the corridor beyond it.

“What about the pattern enhancers?" With trembling fingers, she prepares a hypo with a broad-spectrum antibiotic, coagulants, and enough painkillers to bring down a Nausicaan. Chakotay doesn't even flinch when she presses it to his neck.

“Chief said they'll only work on the surface."

“Bring them down. I'll make them work."

“Admiral, I know --"

“Damn it, that's an order, Harry,” she snaps. She slams the tricorder on the filthy ground beside her. “I swear if B'Elanna can't crack the shield encryption or you're not back here in five minutes with those pattern enhancers I will have you both busted back to Cadet before his body is cold."

Harry kneels beside her in the filth. “The Captain is tough,” he says. “He'll be okay."

Kathryn takes an antiseptic wipe and a dermal regenerator from the medikit and begins working on the cuts and abrasions marring her former First Officer's familiar face. “He'd better be,” she whispers.

Harry gives her shoulder an awkward squeeze. “You've been through too much for him not to be."

She nods, feeling tears fill her eyes. “Hurry, Harry. Please hurry."

In a flash, Harry is gone.

It was supposed to be an easy diplomatic mission.

Alone in the filthy cell with her closest friend dying under her hands, Kathryn reflects that nothing has been “easy” for either of them — not in the Delta Quadrant, and not since they've returned. The Dominion War had left Starfleet so shorthanded that virtually every member of her crew had been promoted and reassigned within a few days of their arrival. The ones who had wanted to leave the service had been pressed to staying active. Their sense of duty had made it impossible for them to refuse their new assignments, no matter how ill fitting — like Harry Kim’s assignment to Special Forces.

And the man who had desperately wanted to go home to Dorvan V to pick up the pieces of a life shattered long before he'd ever heard the name Voyager had been promoted to the ship's command. He'd protested mightily … until newly minted Admiral Janeway had claimed his ship for her continued diplomatic use.

Kathryn sits back on her heels, staring down at his face. His handsome, sweet face, so dear to her, so intriguing from the very first time she saw it. She remembers his jaw clenched in defiance that day, his eyes flashing with anger and distrust.

She would give anything to look into those eyes one more time.

He shudders and the tricorder bleats a warning. She ignores it.

The mission had gone wrong almost immediately. She'd been met by a ragtag military unit, not the diplomatic retinue she'd expected, and whisked into custody in minutes — for her own protection, the alien rebel had said. They'd unwittingly beamed down in the middle of an uprising. Before she'd fully known what was happening, Chakotay had stormed in from Voyager and had managed to get her party out of the complex before the worst of the shooting had begun. But he and his team had in turn been taken by the state military and held hostage. Somehow, the military commanders thought these representatives of the Federation — Captain Chakotay and a handful of security guards — were behind the uprising. They’d then begun firing on Voyager from orbital platforms their sensors hadn’t even detected.

The situation was beyond all reason … but all too common these days. Danger seems to have followed them home from the Delta Quadrant.

Kathryn sighs and lays her hand on Chakotay's cheek again. “We never seem to get a break, do we?"

To her surprise his eyelids flutter open. He stares at her for a long second, then groans and closes his eyes. “You shouldn't be here, Admiral."

She traces the shell of his ear with her fingertips. “Neither should you."

His lips twist in a pained smile. “How bad?" he croaks.

She lays her palm against his cheek. “Bad enough."

“My team?"

“All accounted for."

“Injuries?"

“A few bruises and scrapes. Ensign Arskog has a broken jaw."

Chakotay nods. “Took a punch for me."

“But it was the only one, wasn't it?" He is silent. “You made them take you instead of your team, didn't you? Every time?"

Still he remains silent.

She runs her fingertips through his hair. “I'd have done the same."

He gives her another pained smile. “Learned it from you,” he whispers.

“Damn it, Chakotay … "

He shudders. “I'm cold."

"Here." She shrugs out of her uniform jacket and drapes it over him, tucking it gently around his body. “Better?"

“Little bit." He opens his eyes. “I'm sorry, Kathryn."

“For what?" she scoffs. “For getting captured? You were rescuing my team at the time."

“For Seven,” he says. She gasps and gives her head a brief shake, but he presses on. “I'm sorry for Seven. If I hadn't screwed that up, you and I —"

“Don't,” she orders. “Don't you say it. We're going to get you out of here. Harry went to get the pattern enhancers. Where the hell is he?" She jumps to her feet. “He should have been back by now."

“Kathryn? Where are you, Kathryn?"

“And B'Elanna's working on the encryption. The shield's still inactive. Maybe she solved the encryption and —"

“Come back, Kathryn. Please."

In an instant, she is at his side again. “I'm here."

The tricorder offers another, more strident warning. She silences it with a savage stab.

“What was that?" he asks.

“Nothing."

“Don't lie to me."

She sighs and checks the tricorder, then the soaked pressure bandage. “You're bleeding out."

“Thought so. Can't keep my eyes open."

“We'll be out of here any second now." Mindful of his injuries, she pulls his head into her lap. “I swear it, Chakotay. B'Elanna will solve the shielding. Just hang on for a few more minutes."

“Doc will have to try to revive me."

“You’re going to be all right.”

“He won’t be able to do it. Not with Sickbay smashed.”

“No!" She shakes him a little, and he groans. “Don't you say that. Don't even think it."

“I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me tomorrow.”

“Won’t be a tomorrow for me.”

“This is not the end.” The tears spill over her eyelids and fall on his cheeks. “Stay with me, Chakotay. I order you to stay with me."

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles, and it turns into a wracking cough. She holds him through the worst of it. When he is calm again, she curls her body over his.

Weakly, grimacing in pain from his dislocated shoulder, he raises his arm and reaches for her. He wraps his hand around the back of her head.

Their lips meet. Softly, sweetly. The first and last time.

His eyes roll back in his head.

She is holding him to her breast, rocking him back and forth and keening her grief, when Harry returns, and the beam takes them home.

###

#janeway x chakotay

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akiralazuli · 6 years

Text

Star Trek characters react to a creep harassing a lady in a bar, part FOUR of SIX.

While in a bar, some guy starts intruding and making unwanted advances toward a lady, and may even start intimidating her. This is how each character would resolve the situation.

VOY characters:

Janeway. Run from her. She would advance from as directly ahead as she could, and probably stand uncomfortably close. She would say she had been watching, and wanted to know what intent the creep had with this woman. No explanation would be satisfactory, of course, so she would offer to take the place of the lady. “You want someone to be your prey? Try someone who can fight back.” He had better not stick around.

Chakotay would sit on the other side of the creep, maybe a seat down. After a while, he would initiate a conversation, carefully going along with what the guy says (of course not favoring or condoning anything; just going along). He would wait for the guy to say something like, “sometimes you need to be a little rough.” At that moment, Chakotay would smash the creep in the face with his fist and say, “I see what you mean.”

Tuvok would have the whole thing under control immediately. He would blatantly express his distaste for the creep, and order him to either leave voluntarily or be removed. Unable to be intimidated or overpowered, any attempt by the creep to face down Tuvok would end with a rather impressive joint lock. The creep would never come back.

Paris would see the scene unfolding and, like some others, play cool, getting the creep to open up a little about what he was doing, going after this lady like that. He might act jokingly in asking, “what if she did not want that?” The creep would probably say something like, “maybe she does not know she wants it.” Then Paris would immediately become serious, look the guy directly in the eye, and say, “then maybe you really want me to stab this fork through your ribcage.”

Torres would not put up with this. She would be very direct and brief, saying, “alright, you have two options: either leave her alone and get out of here, or I will break your jaw in ten seconds.”

Kim would try being rational. He would try to explain the situation to the guy, and get him to let the lady go voluntarily. When that did not work, he would start getting incrementally more hostile to the creep, keeping all the attention focused on him, so by the time the guy turned around, the lady would be gone.

Neelix would approach the situation in one of two ways. Likely, he would try being friendly, and attempt to get the creep to not act so much like a creep. Eventually, the stone-set creep would have enough and just leave. Either that, or Neelix would just begin by finding a large dish and creaming the guy over the head.

The Doctor would be most unimpressed with the creep, and would intentionally antagonize him by insulting him and describing the reasons for validation and compensation this guy probably has. When the creep took a swing, it would go right through the Doctor, who would then say, “I am a doctor, therefore I can do no harm, however…” Then he would reach his hand inside the face of the creep and scare him probably so far past death he reincarnated.

Seven of Nine would begin by ordering the creep to desist, and, when she was ignored, she would grab him by the throat and say, still fully controlled, “that was not a request.”

#star trek #star trek: voyager #reacting to a creep meme #captain janeway #chakotay #tuvok #tom paris #b'elanna torres #harry kim #neelix #the doctor #seven of nine

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palukoo · 6 years

Note

5 times the Voyager crew think B'Elanna and Seven want to kill eachother... and maybe the one time they realize they're actually gay for eachother. (??)? --chibi PS: sorry prompts are hard

Thanks Chibi! It’s under a cut even tho it’s pretty short because writing anything other than snippets of dialogue? I don’t know her

Janeway looked over at Seven tentatively.

“I’d like you to consult B’Elanna on this,” she said.

“Captain, is that really necessary?” Seven asked.

“Yes, and if you disagree, I’ll make that an order.”

Seven sighed.

“Please don’t kill her, Seven. We need her.”

Seven gave Janeway a look as if to say, “Are you sure?” Janeway rolled her eyes and walked over to her replicator.

Seven sighed. “Very well. I will consult with Lieutenant Torres, though her disdain for me may make that very difficult.”

“You’ll adapt,” Janeway responded pointedly, before ordering a coffee.

“Will that be all, Captain?”

“Yes.”

Seven turned to leave Janeway’s ready room.

“Oh, and Seven?”

Seven turned back around.

“Don’t assimilate her either.”

B’Elanna stormed across the Mess Hall and sunk into a seat next to Harry, diagonal from Tom. “I can’t stay for long,” she said. “The Captain has asked Seven to help me in engineering, as if I can’t handle it myself, and knowing her, she’ll get there early and ruin my damn warp core.”

“I mean, it never hurts to get a new perspective,” Harry offered, but he got quieter and sunk back in his chair as she turned to glare at him.

“I don’t need her perspective,” B’Elanna spat.

Tom shrugged. “What’s the harm in letting her look at engineering? If nothing’s wrong, she won’t change anything—“ B’Elanna scoffed— “and if there is something wrong or that can be improved, we’ll get home faster.”

“You’re saying she’ll find something I’ve missed?”

“No, but she is Borg, you know, she—“

“You’re saying she’s a better engineer than me?”

“No! B’Elanna, I’m just asking you to think about this.”

“Whatever. I better get going. She’s probably already assimilated half my staff.” B’Elanna stood up and left the Mess Hall, somehow seeming more angry than when she entered.

“I bet you three replicator rations B’Elanna’ll kill Seven,” Tom said to Harry.

“You’re on. I’ve got three on Seven,” Harry replied.

“Alright, dismissed,” Janeway said, concluding the senior staff meeting. She stood to follow her officers out of the room.

“Um, excuse me, Captain, do you have a moment?” Neelix asked from behind her.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Something has come to my attention and I’m not sure it’s having a great effect on morale. Certain members of the senior staff aren’t getting along very well and I think it’s confusing the rest of the crew and distracting from our mission.”

Janeway sighed. “Let me guess; Seven and B’Elanna?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Janeway nodded. “You’re probably right, but I’m having enough trouble as is keeping them from killing each other. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“She’s making me work with Seven again,” B’Elanna complained.

“You know, maybe Kathryn’s got a point,” Chakotay said. B’Elanna’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Seven is very smart and you could probably learn a thing or two from her.”

B’Elanna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she’s smart. And she knows it, too.”

Chakotay smiled. “She does. She could probably learn a thing or two from you, too.”

“I appreciate the effort, but I still can’t stand her. She’s just so stubborn and always so sure she’s right. And she never listens to anyone else or follows orders unless she agrees with them. It’s so frustrating.”

Chakotay laughed. “Reminds me a bit of someone else I know.” He looked at B’Elanna pointedly. She glared. “Look, I know you don’t like to work with her, but she can help us get home. So try not to kill her.”

B’Elanna sighed. “I’ll try, but I make no promises.”

“How was your day?”

Tal sat down across from Billy and sighed. She leaned towards him, a somewhat nervous look on her face. “Lieutenant Torres came into Astrometrics today.”

“Was Seven there?” he asked.

Tal nodded. “She wasn’t too happy about it either. They got into some argument about boosting the sensor efficiency. Torres thought she had an idea, Seven said that the Borg had experimented with it and it hadn’t worked. I was glad when my shift ended. They’re probably still going at it.”

“I’m glad I missed it.”

“I swear, one of these days I’ll report to duty and find one of them over the other’s dead body. Anyways, how was your day?”

“Alright. I think I’m coming down with something, though.”

“Torres to Seven,” said B’Elanna through the combadge. Seven ignored it, moving a green piece on the hexagonal board in front of her.

Naomi moved a red circle.

The call came again. Seven took off her combadge. Naomi frowned. Seven took her turn.

“Not that I’m not happy you’re playing Kadis Kot with me,” Naomi began, and Seven turned towards her, her ocular implant rising, “but why are you avoiding B’Elanna.”

“I am not avoiding Lieutenant Torres.”

Naomi looked at the combadge with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Seven sighed. “I am trying to avoid any unnecessary arguments. They are… inefficient. It is your turn, Naomi Wildman.”

Naomi frowned and looked towards the board in front of her. She moved a red piece over a green piece and took the latter off the board. She grinned.

Seven looked to the board considering her next move.

“I thought you and B’Elanna were on better terms now,” Naomi said at Seven reached for a piece. Seven looked towards her, then back at the board. She moved her piece and removed two red ones. Naomi sighed.

“I… suppose we are.”

“So then why are you avoiding her?”

“I do not like Lieutenant Torres very much.”

“If you say so.”

Seven glared. “Take your turn, Crewman Wildman.”

Naomi smirked. She moved a piece. “It’s just that up until recently, you and B’Elanna seemed to be getting along a lot better and working together without Captain Janeway making you and just a minute ago when I asked you about her you blushed and you aren’t a very good liar, Seven.”

Seven raised her ocular implant. She moved a piece. Naomi moved her own. She smiled triumphantly.

“Kadis kot!” Naomi exclaimed happily.

Seven’s combadge chirped again. Naomi looked at her expectantly and B’Elanna’s voice came through again.

Seven glared and Naomi and rolled her eyes. She tapped the combadge. “Seven to Lieutenant Torres.”

“Finally,” B’Elanna said, annoyed.

Naomi started to put the game away.

#voyager #b'elanna torres #Seven of Nine #b/7 #b7 #b'elanna/seven #my post #my fic #asks #answered

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fbismostunwanted1158 · 7 years

Text

WiP post (There’s a shite ton of ‘em, but I’ll pick three)

@angrywarrior69 tagged me. Here you go, BB.

1. Melody (to the counterpoint of Counterpoint) Sorry, I was a music major. This WiP follows Kathryn on the downward spiral after Kashyk (I insinuate he used/pity fucked her) leaves her rode hard and put away wet. Much angst.

“Computer, is the captain in her quarters?”

“Affirmative.”

He knew that the possibility of her being asleep was slim to none. Holding eye contact with his chief security officer, Chakotay handed over the Bridge for the time being and made his way to Kathryn.

Why couldn’t she ever just answer the damn door? He muttered in frustration after the fourth unanswered chime. Prepared for more flying objects, he keyed in the override code and stepped inside.

Starfleet jacket and turtleneck were long gone. Clad in her tank and trousers, elbows braced on her knees and hair balled in fists, Kathryn was slumped forward in her easy chair. The bottle of Antarian cider he had gifted to her a few months ago, sat empty on the table next to her.

“Wha’d you w-nt?”

He came to stand before her, fighting the urge to reach out to her.

“You’re beyond drunk, Kathryn.”

“Mmm. Why th’ell d’you c-rr? G-t. Out.”

A disoriented, yet powerful, arm flung out and sent the empty bottle skittering across the room. The outburst threw her off her balance and Chakotay lunged forward to keep her head from connecting with the coffee table in front of her.

“This is how you solve your problems now? Drinking yourself into a stupor? What’s happened to you, Kathryn?”

Her hands batted at his arms and made a feeble effort at pushing him away.

“Ugh! L-ve!”

He caught her chin in his warm hand and raised her face to meet his. She tried to break free, but he wouldn’t allow it. What he saw, horrified him.

“Sorry, you’re in no condition to be giving orders. I’m taking you to Sickbay. Now.”

Behind her intoxicated glare, she was overtly pale and drawn, dark bags hung around lifeless bloodshot eyes. Was she finally too far gone for him to bring her back? He was holding her in front of him, but Kathryn Janeway was nowhere to be found. He would argue with her later, right now, she needed serious intervention.

2. Nine Months This is an AU in which Kathryn and Chakotay’s boosters fail due to the virus they contracted on New Earth. We all know they had sex. Well, they did. And baby. The episodes are all the same, KJ’s just got a bun in the oven.

Chakotay followed closely as the EMH adjusted the settings and sensitivity of the probe. The Doctor’s slowly widening eyes elevated his blood pressure.

“What does that mean? Is she in danger?”

“N-not at all. She’s probably experiencing some light strain. What you’d expect in an endurance ritual. The troubling discovery here are the clearly elevated levels of hCG present in the captain’s body. How could I have missed this?”

“Is that something that would suggest a treatment for Kes?”

Chakotay, again, trailed in the Doctor’s wake as he shakily sat down behind his desk shaking his head; suddenly engrossed in his computer screen.

“Not…exactly.”

The intimidating look that Chakotay pinned the hologram with could have vaporized a Klingon warrior in an instant.

“I don’t suppose you’d settle for: ‘Doctor/Patient confidentiality’?”

The Commander’s continued silence answered the question for him.

“Alright. Well, if you must know. It appears that the captain is pregnant. According to these readings, conception took place approximately...eight and a half weeks ago.”

Both men froze as their minds raced back in time; Chakotay numbly braced himself on the edge of the desk.

“New Earth,” the commander’s whisper confirmed the Doctor’s speculations.

“Yes. Of course. When the Captain returns, I’d better check on the rest of your inoculations. The both of you. Who knows what else that virus rendered inactive. I believe ‘congratulations’ are in order then, Commander,” he attempted a small smile to assuage some of the obvious terror radiating from his commanding officer.

“Are the stresses she’s experiencing going to put her or the pregnancy at risk?”

The Doctor paused, formulating the correct phrasing to approach him with.

“Would I have allowed her to go down to the planet had I been aware she was pregnant? Probably not. Could I have stopped her? Most certainly not. Will she be in danger? Only time can tell. All we can do is wait and hope that she uncovers something to help Kes. I would hate for all of this to be for naught,” Chakotay sank down to sit on the edge of the desk. The Doctor’s words fading in and out of focus.

Pregnant. In about seven months, they would have a baby. If she came back from this. If nothing happened after that. What about when the baby was born? What if there were an attack? A kidnapping?

3. Needs Our dear captain is horny as can be and there’s no standing it anymore. Is there an alien force at work, has she consumed far too much caffeine, or is Chakotay’s masculinity proving to be a burden? organ arpeggios

Sex. Kathryn Janeway needed sex. The thought of orgasm alone was enough to send her inner muscles into small twitches, sending a rush of heat and wetness to her core. The ‘captain’ could care less if her sexual needs had been sadly neglected. Wrapped tightly in her protocol, she didn’t need anything to hold her together; content to be confined within the ‘parameters’ that had been set.

‘Kathryn’ was another issue. Every glance in her first officer’s direction would send relentless waves of passion burning through her. In his powerful wake, she was left breathless and tight; her body prepared to welcome something that could never be hers.

The seemingly endless abstinence was finally taking its toll. Coming undone on her own fingers never held the satisfaction that she needed. Yet, it was all that she had. And it was killing her. Her most intimate fantasies carried her to such great heights; only to allow her to plummet further into depression.

The purely erotic images that plagued her waking moments were becoming difficult to ignore. Heat rose from her sternum, her nipples beaded to stiff points, and spread across her cheeks. What would Chakotay say to her reddened complexion?

A low groan left her parted lips as she sank into the cushion of the couch. Suddenly, she was struck by the vivid image of the two of them ‘breaking protocol’ in the shrouded safety of her Ready Room. Rough hands lazily tracing her hips, watching her hungrily unfasten the fly of the Starfleet trousers. His erection hot and heavy while she straddled his lap. The exquisite stretch of her muscles as she sank down on to his hardened length. Eagerly clenching around him, leaning forward to work that secret place deep within her; tongue exploring the velvet contours of his pliant mouth.

Perhaps he wouldn’t allow her to take what she wanted from him? Yes. He’d bend her over her desk and take her from behind. Pumping into her in slow measured strokes while he grasped her bare breasts, deftly rolling her nipples between the pads of his fingers? He would growl and suck at the pulse point on her neck, marking her, claiming her, running his tongue along the shell of her ear and nibbling as his thrusts gathered speed.

Damn it all! She could not be having these thoughts. Kathryn launched from the couch and strode around the room in aimless patterns. Her breathing was ragged, thighs warm and sticky, and legs ready to give out. She braced her arms against the desk, but quickly retracted her touch, having a flashback of her scintillating daydream.

I guess I’ll tag @supernovacoffee @mia-cooper @jhelenoftrek and @emmikamikatze

Sorry, I know you’ve probably all been tagged SO many times. Love you.

#wips #janeway x chakotay #star trek voyager #smut #angst #all the things

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mia-cooper · 7 years

Text

Ficlet: Trick of the Light (T)

An episode tag for ‘Worst Case Scenario’, written to two dialogue prompts: “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” and “I’m going to need you to put on some clothes before you say anything else."

“Computer, freeze program!”

As the computer chirped obligingly, she realised her mouth was hanging open and closed it with a snap. Her hands went automatically to her hips as she stared at the unbelievable sight before her.

“Well, Commander,” she muttered, fighting the blush that rose up from her collar, “there’d better be a damn good reason why you’re naked in my bed.”

All she’d wanted was a few hours of escapism on the holodeck. It had been weeks since she’d had any downtime, and when she’d overhead Harry and Neelix whispering in the mess hall about the mysterious new program B’Elanna had unearthed, her curiosity had got the better of her.

She’d played out the astonishing scenario – a Starfleet security ensign caught up in a Maquis mutiny; who on earth dreamed these things up? – and had really started to get into the spirit of it, defecting to the mutineers, dressing up in leathers and gleefully blasting a holo-phaser at her frowning, uniformed doppelganger.

But the story had taken an unexpected turn when she’d started fidgeting during a dull shift on the holo-bridge and decided to sneak around a little. The lure of her own quarters was irresistible – had the anonymous programmer of this little tale got them right? And if so, how did he or she know? – so she’d let herself into the darkened cabin and headed straight for her bedroom.

And that’s when she saw him.

Sprawled on her bed, one arm flung across his eyes, the sheet rumpled low enough on his hips that it was clear he wasn’t wearing a shred of clothing beneath it.

Her heart pounded as her gaze travelled over the well-defined arms, the smooth, broad expanse of chest, the flat stomach, the barely-visible V of his hips…

Horrified at herself, she ordered the holodeck to pause the program.

Then she got angry. So Chakotay had seen fit to commandeer her quarters, had he? How dare he! She was building up a full head of steam before she realised she was being ridiculous. The real Chakotay would never mutiny – he’d space himself first – and he’d certainly never make himself at home in her bed.

Ignoring the twinge of excitement at that thought, she refocused her anger. Whoever had programmed this appalling breach of propriety would have hell to pay! Just as soon as she figured out who it was.

And as yet, she didn’t have enough information to pinpoint the culprit. If she wanted to identify them, there was nothing else for it. She’d have to play out the whole scenario.

Gritting her teeth, Kathryn uttered, “Computer, resume.”

As soon as she spoke, the holo-Chakotay in her bed stirred. Kathryn cleared her throat.

His eyes shot open and his hand dived under the pillow, coming out clutching a phaser. Springing to his feet beside the bed, he growled, “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Despite herself she backed up a step, hands held up in appeasement as she tried desperately not to let her gaze drop below his face. “Whoa, easy there, Comm- er, Captain. I come in peace.”

He sized her up, clearly decided she wasn’t a threat and tossed the phaser on the bed, folding his arms. “You’ll forgive me for being suspicious. It wasn’t so long ago that you were on the wrong side, Ensign.”

“Yes, well,” she tried not to stammer, “I’ve seen the light.”

“Apparently so.” His gaze was raking her from head to foot. “The leathers suit you.”

She coughed nervously as he took another step toward her. “I’m going to need you to put on some clothes before you say anything else. Please. Sir,” she added hastily.

The real Chakotay’s smile had never been so dirty, she was sure, as he moved closer still. She tried to back up and found herself pressed against her closet door.

“What,” she swallowed, “what are you doing?”

His breath brushed her ear as he leaned in to whisper, “If you want me to get dressed, you’ll need to let me open that closet.”

“Huh?” He was so close she could feel the heat from his body. His very warm, very naked body, which was very close to coming into full, delicious contact with hers.

That grin split his face again. “My clothes are in the closet behind you.”

“Oh!” Mortified, she ducked under his arm. “Sorry.”

She turned her back until she heard him say, “All right, Ensign, I’m decent.”

“Barely,” she muttered as she turned to find that he’d pulled on a pair of low-slung sweat pants and nothing else.

“So.” He leaned a hip against her nightstand. “What’s so important that you had to come disturb me in my bed?”

“I was…” oh, hell, where was a good excuse when she needed one? “… doing the security rounds? Um, to check for Starfleet booby traps.”

“Very enterprising of you,” he said, his eyes narrowed with appreciation.

“I have my moments.”

“And did you find what you were looking for?”

The real Chakotay’s eyes would never burn into her like this. Oh, sure, she’d always known he was no stranger to flirtation. But this brazen interest was something new.

And the effect it had on her was disturbing. She found herself jutting out a hip, her voice dipping to a low purr. “That depends on what you’d consider a booby-trap.”

He gave her a slow, dimpled smile and pushed off the nightstand, his stride smooth as he stepped toward her. “Maybe we should conduct a thorough inspection.”

The backs of her knees came in contact with the bed. “Commander –”

“It’s Captain now, remember?” he said silkily, reaching for her hand. The pad of his thumb glided over her knuckles and along her wrist and she stared down at it, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“Right,” she mumbled. “Captain.”

Because of course, this wasn’t the real Chakotay…

He bent his head and she felt his lips move softly along her hairline and down over her temple, her cheekbone …

Oh, no, she thought as his mouth touched hers. No, no, no, this is wrong…

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against her lips.

He’s just a hologram , the devil whispered to her. The real Chakotay will never know. And it’s only for a moment…

She wound her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his.

His hands stroked down her back, pulling her hips against him, and she choked back a sigh as she wound her fingers into his hair. God, the thrill of feeling his body against hers, even if it was only a simulation…

A very realistic, very arousing simulation, she realised, feeling the evidence of it pressing against her pubic bone. Perhaps a little too realistic… Breaking the kiss, she pushed him backward and scooted out of his reach, running shaky fingers through her hair. “Excuse me, Captain,” she said breathily, “but I think this inspection is over. Computer, exit!” As she beat a hasty retreat out of the holodeck and into the corridor, she sent a silent thank you to the mysterious creator of this program, while simultaneously vowing to sentence them to a lifetime of cleaning the exhaust manifolds if ever she discovered their identity. Left alone, the Maquis captain slumped onto the bed to catch his breath. After a minute he stood, shucked the sweat pants and pulled on the clothing he was more accustomed to. With one last delighted, incredulous grin, he straightened his shoulders, smoothed his face into its customary impassivity, and called, “Computer, end program.”

#janeway x chakotay #star trek voyager fanfiction #taking a wip break #miawrites

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angsty-violet · 4 years

Text

Agony - Chapter 2

Agony Masterpost

@whumptober2020

It had quickly become apparent to Kell’an that Tuvok was much too dangerous to have around without some insurance. At least, that’s what Tuvok assumed. After 3 escape attempts that nearly succeeded and 4 that didn’t even get close, he returned to Tuvok’s cell.

Tuvok was in the corner, the most defensible position in this tiny gray room. He watched as Kell’an approached him, holding a ring of metal in his hands. It took Tuvok a moment to realize what he was looking at.

A collar. A motherfucking collar.

He reared back and tried to get away from him, but there was nowhere to go. His position was the most defensible, but it left no room to escape. The current torture sessions left him too weak to fight, and he was trapped.

“Now, now, lovely thing. No reason to be scared of this. It’s a shock collar to make sure you don’t get away before I have time to finish my experiments on you.”

Tuvok felt no fear or shame. Yet there was something about this business that had him desperate to getaway. It puzzled him, but he didn’t allow it to show. Men like this were only spurred on by demonstrations of confusion and fear. He needed to get through this alive.

His dignity might no be intact by the end, but he would live to see the Voyager again.

Kell’an gripped the chain that bound Tuvok’s hands to the wall and yanked him forward with it. Tuvok fell on his knees. He tried to get as much distance as the firm grip allowed. This only seemed to amused Kell’an. He wrapped one arm around Tuvok’s shoulders, pinning his arms into place, and lifted the collar with the other.

Tuvok’s breaths began to shorten, his desperation apparent.

Kell’an clamped the metal collar around Tuvok’s neck and locked it tightly. “There we go, handsome thing.”

Tuvok’s tried to breathe, but the collar was very tight. It constricted against his windpipe, and he was forced to take shallow breaths just to get oxygen. Kell’an stepped back to admire the picture.

“Oh, you are just darling, aren’t you? Well, let’s give it a try. Want to make sure it does what it’s supposed to.” He removed a remote and pressed a button. Tuvok gasped at the feeling of electricity pouring into him. He began to hyperventilate, the collar making it impossible to breathe.

Then it finally let up, he slumped to the ground in a heap. Kell’an gave a happy little clap of excitement.

“Oh, that was amazing. You, little thing, are amazing. You just deal with the pain so much better than my previous specimens. I swear money can’t buy you good objects anymore. I had to get you myself, but no matter, you’re here with me now.”

Tuvok refused to give in to the urge to curl into a ball in front of Kell’an. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Well, my pet, I must be going. I do have other experiments besides you. Nothing as interesting as you, of course, but still things that need attending to. I’ll see you later, darling.”

Tuvok watched him leave and crawled back to the corner, where he tried to remain as much as possible. He worked on getting as much air into his body as the collar would allow. Once he had his breath mostly back, he began to feel at the collar. Tuvok knew that often the electrical component left weaknesses in the structural integrity of shock collars.

He wasn’t surprised when he found there was none. Obviously, this psycho had victims before him to perfect his technique. Kell’an would never allow for something as pedestrian as a crack to enable one of them to get free.

Tuvok bowed his head and allowed a deep sigh. His emotions were becoming harder and harder to control. His mental faculties were degrading with every moment he spent in this place. Now, this collar seemed to push him even closer to the edge.

His long dark fingers traced along it, checking just one more time that he hadn’t missed a flaw or weakness he could exploit. He tugged lightly against it and felt sparks behind his eyes.

He gasped and bent over, shocked at the way it felt.

“I want to scour every planet we come across for settlements and life signs. Tuvok’s the only Vulcan in this quadrant, it shouldn’t be that hard to tell him from others,” Janeway ordered her crew.

Chakotay looked on in worry. Since their Technical Officer had been plucked from their away team, she had become more and more desperate to find him. She was determined to find him.

They had already discovered that he was no longer on the plane he had been initially taken. A scan of life signs had revealed that there were no Vulcans anywhere in that system. Which meant he had been taken someplace else.

Although Tuvok wasn’t Chakotay’s favorite person, he felt a deep respect for the man. Calm and collected, he was an asset when it came to any situation. He had also begun to develop a tentative friendship with him, something a number of others had as well.

He knew that he wasn’t the only one worried that they would be finding a body rather than the man himself. Despite that, if Janeway wasn’t giving up, neither was he. He would help persevere until they had closure on this, even if they had to search every ship, station, and planet they came across.

All he could hope was that wherever Tuvok was, he wasn’t being hurt. That his captors weren’t planning on killing him. He hoped that the Tuvok that returned would be more or less the same man he was when he left.

However, Chakotay’s instincts, as well as the information of how he had been taken, said otherwise. A job that professional, that fast, and efficient spoke of expertise and experience. That didn’t bode well for whatever they wanted him for.

Chakotay tried to ignore the thought that Tuvok would make a good torture victim. His instincts weren’t always right.

#whumptober2020 #no.2 #collar #fic #star trek voyager #torture #violence #electrocution #hurt tuvok #protective crew

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summahsunlight · 5 years

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This Way Became My Journey, CH. 3

Word Count: 4363

Pairings: Janeway/Chakotay, Paris/OFC

Characters: Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay, Tom Paris, Sarah Barrett (OC), Harry Kim, B’Elanna Torres, Kes, Neelix, the Doctor

Master List

Against her better judgement, Kathryn Janeway has taken her children with her on the trip to the Badlands to track Chakotay and the Maquis rebels. But when the ship is thrown into the Delta Quadrant, Janeway is forced to join with the Maquis in order to survive the treacherous, unknown part of the galaxy.

Voyager's conference room wasn't as grand as some of the other ones he had seen in his day, but Tom Paris reasoned it was functional. Sarah Barrett herself had requested that he join the senior staff for a briefing. She hadn't said what admiral would be briefing them, but she had mentioned something about a conference call. She had made it a point to walk in with him; she wanted the officers who opposed of him to know she wouldn't stand for it.

"What is he doing here?" Commander Cavit asked hotly.

Sarah raised her chin slightly as she took her seat. "I asked him to be here, Commander. He is after all here to help us find the Maquis."

Derek Evans, the Chief Engineer, leaned back in his chair with a scowl on his face. "We're perfectly capable of finding the Maquis in our own," he grumbled.

Tom noticed Sarah's response was a hard glare at that man, which made him divert his eyes. She's two for two, he thought whimsically as he took his seat next to her. He was happy for the support, he needed all of it that he could get. Glancing across the table he met the eyes of Harry Kim. He was certain at some point during this three week mission that even young, ambitious Harry would see him for what he really was, a screw up and no body wanted to be friends with a screw up.

Kathryn Janeway walked briskly into the room and called the meeting to order. "We'll be receiving an update from Headquarters any minute. Has there been any sign of the Maquis?"

"None yet," Kim replied. "Short and long range sensors are picking up nothing; we appear to be the only ship in this sector of space."

"I haven't detected any other warp trails in the vicinity," Stadi said. "We're still following the trails of the Gul Evek's ship and the Val Jean."

Janeway curtly nodded her head. "Keep all sensors scanning for that ship." The comline beeped then and she pressed a button on a panel near her chair. "Janeway."

"We're receiving a transmission from Admiral Hanson, Captain."

"Patch him through."

"Aye Captain."

Tom turned his chair about, not looking forward to this message. Hanson had been one of the admirals adamant that he be ushered out of Starfleet permanently. The good Admiral was probably not happy that Janeway had asked to use him on this mission. The Admiral's face soon filled the viewscreen. He looked older and more haggard than Tom had last seen him.

"Captain Janeway," Hanson began, "I wish I had some good news to bring you. Unfortunately we still haven't heard from Mister Tuvok. Headquarters believes that the ship was lost in the Badlands. It's your mission now to bring in the wreckagec for further analysis."

"What exactly are we looking for?" Janeway questioned.

"Leave that for us to determine, Captain, Hanson out."

The screen went black and Janeway quickly ushered the senior staff back to work, except Sarah. Tom caught a glance of her lingering behind to speak with the Captain before the doors shut and he went about his business.

Janeway stood at the head of the table, palms leaning against the surface. "Your opinion on that message."

"I'm not sure how they could determine that the Val Jean had been destroyed when there has been no sign of wreckage. As for what we're looking for, I'm not sure. There's been speculation that a Federation ship was responsible for shooting the Val Jean down, but it's just speculation," Sarah answered. "If it was, then Headquarters has a bigger problem that the Maquis on their hands."

The Captain shook her head. "A ship just doesn't disappear without a trace like this."

Sarah stiffened slightly. "Captain, the Badlands aren't your average trip through space. Plasma storms could completely destroy a ship without leaving a trace. There have been lots of ships that have disappeared without a trace."

Janeway grinned sadly. "At least in those cases traces of something had been found. We're grasping at straws here."

"Isn't that part of our job, ma'am?"

"I suppose it is, Counselor," Janeway said, with a wave of her hand. "Thank you, you're dismissed."

Sarah left the room to find Tom standing outside waiting for her. "Thanks, for sticking up for me."

"I'm just doing my job," she said, getting into a turbo lift.

Tom followed her. "I know what people think of me, it can't be easy doing your job."

"Deck two," Sarah ordered the lift. She looked patiently at Tom.

"That's where I'm going too."

Sarah didn't think it was coincidence. "Perhaps you don't know a lot about me Mister Paris, but I'm not a fan favorite around here either. My job was going to be rough from the start whether or not you were here."

"You wound me, Counselor," Tom said. "Here I thought it was because you liked me."

The lift doors opened. Sarah led the way out, glancing over her shoulder at Paris. His grey-blue eyes were fixed upon her face in a look that she had seen far too often from men, but there was something different about his look, she just couldn't put her finger on it. "Tell me something, Paris, were you born this arrogant or did you learn it over time."

Tom quirked a grin. "That's not arrogance, sweetheart, it's charm."

"Sorry, I get them confused all the time," Sarah said, typing in the access code to her office.

"Don't worry about it; join me for lunch?"

"I have a date...with a few personnel reports," Sarah said, slipping into her office. The door slid shut and she closed her eyes and sighed. She shouldn't like him, he really was cocky, arrogant and self-centered, but she couldn't help it. For whatever reason Sarah liked Tom Paris but there was no way she was ever going to admit it to him, that would only make him even more cocky, and the ship didn't need that.

The mess hall seemed to be the place if you wanted a lot of social interactions. There were at least twenty people in the room when Tom Paris had entered, one of them being Harry Kim sitting with the First Officer and the Doctor. There was no doubt in his mind that the officers were telling young Harry all about what he had done previously to land him jail. He found that it made his blood boil, because Harry had been the only one to be civil to him, with the exception of Janeway, and that pretty counselor, Sarah Barrett. Paris tried to ignore the angry feelings as he went to one of the replicators.

"Tomato soup," he ordered the computer, his eyes glancing over his shoulder at the group. The CMO and Cavit were facing him and both saw him looking their way. For a brief moment their eyes met in glares, but Tom turned back to the computer when it started to babble at him.

"There are fourteen varieties of tomato soup available from this replicator," the computer responded, beginning to list off all of them. Paris rolled his eyes. All he wanted was a bowl of tomato soup and the blasted computer had to go into a full blown out menu.

"You need to be specific," a small voice said.

He glanced down to see a small boy standing next to him. He was unaware that there were children on board the ship and the sight of a five year old shocked him. The kid was of average height for his age, with short dark hair and dazzling blue eyes. Paris couldn't help but feel he had seen the boy's face somewhere before.

"Plain," Paris instructed the computer. It stopped its listing.

Before the computer could reply, the boy said, "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"Hot or chilled?" the computer asked. Sure enough the kid had been right.

Paris found that he did not like it when the boy was right. He scowled at the replicator. "Hot, plain, tomato soup!" It materialized before him and as he took the tray in his hands, he saw the Doctor and First Officer get up to leave. But as he tried to move, he found that the boy was still standing there looking at him. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, stiffly.

"Mama says you're from jail," the child quipped.

"That's right," Paris said with a huff. "Who's your mother kid?"

"Captain Janeway," the boy replied.

Paris raised his eyebrows. No one wonder the kid had looked familiar to him; he was a spitting image of Janeway. Paris had not even been aware that the Captain had a child on board. Guess I should have paid more attention to the gossip that wasn't about Sarah Barrett, he thought, as he tried to move away to go have a seat with Harry, but the kid just would not move. "Is there something else?" he asked, exasperated.

"You worked for the Maquis," Michael stated.

"Yeah, not for long though."

"Mama says you got caught, that's why you were in jail," the boy said.

Is there anything that Janeway has not told her kid about? Paris thought suddenly, with a little bit of anger. Apparently nothing was going to be sacred on this trip; even a child knew about his past. "Yeah, I worked for the Maquis," he said, bitterly. "And got caught; now can I go eat my soup?"

"Sure, but you're not going to like it," the kid countered. "The replicator's food is awful."

"Then why are you down here?" Paris couldn't help but snap.

"Ava wanted chocolate milk."

"You couldn't have gotten that in your quarters?" Paris questioned, wondering who Ava was. Did the Captain have more children that he wasn't aware of?

"Well…" the boy began to say as Cavit stepped up.

"Michael you've wasted enough of Mister Paris' time," he said. "Move along now; your mother made it clear that you're to stay in your quarters, unless you're with her."

The child scampered away. Cavit just gave Paris a stern look before he too left the mess hall. Tom was finally able to go and have a seat with Harry. He set his tray down across from the young ensign who was looking at him sternly. He immediately knew what had transpired. It was only a matter of time before someone told the young Harry what Tom had done. "There you see, I told you it wouldn't take long," he said, sitting down.

"Is it true?" Harry asked.

"Was the accident my fault? Yes. Pilot error, but it took me a while to admit it." He took a bite of his soup and found that Michael Janeway had been right; it was awful. He pushed the tray away from him. "Ugh, fourteen varieties and they can't even get plain tomato soup right."

Harry ignored him. "They said you falsified reports."

"That's right."

"Why?"

"What's the difference?" Tom asked. "I lied."

Harry frowned at him. "But then you came forward and admitted it was your fault."

Tom straightened slightly. "I'll tell you the truth Harry. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut and I was home free. But I couldn't," he looked at Harry mockingly. "The ghost of those three dead officers came to me in the middle of the night and taught me the true meaning of Christmas."

Harry rolled his eyes at the sarcastic remark.

Tom looked down at the table for a moment, thinking of what to say next. "So I confessed. Worst mistake I ever made, but not my last. After they cashiered me out of Starfleet I went out looking for a fight and found the Maquis. And on my first assignment I was caught."

"It must have been especially tough for you being the son of an admiral," Harry replied.

Tom looked angry. "Frankly I think it was tougher on my father than it was on me." He picked his tray up and began to leave, looking down at Harry. "Look I know those guys told you to stay away from me, and you know what? You ought to listen to them. I'm not exactly a good luck charm." He started to walk away again but Harry turned around to look at him with a slight smile on his face.

"I don't need anyone to chose my friends for me," he informed Tom.

"Janeway to Paris," the Captain's voice came over the comm.

"Go ahead," Paris said.

"Report to the bridge. We're approaching the Badlands."

When Kim and Paris entered the bridge, Janeway was the one to inform them that they had approximated the Maquis' course. The two young men exchanged glances before Harry went to his station to take over. Janeway went around the tactical station and down the steps to sit in her seat; Cavit was instructing Stadi to adjust their course to the new coordinates.

Sarah Barrett was seated next to Janeway's chair, a PADD in her hand. Her deep blue eyes were running over the report, but Tom knew she was watching him. He had called her service record up after meeting her in the ready room. She was a lot like him in certain senses, the child of an Admiral, spent some time in prison for dereliction of duty and drug rehab afterwards. Janeway had probably asked her to come on board for her expertise in terrorists, not for her counseling skills. Although, he didn't doubt she knew what she was doing, since she had been one of the first people in Starfleet to issue a report on the psychological mind of the Borg Collective. If she could break down the Borg, she could break down a simple human.

"The Cardassians claim that they forced the Maquis ship into a plasma storm where it was destroyed," Janeway was informing Paris, who was following behind her to the command station. Her voice brought him out of his intense thoughts on Barrett. "But our probes haven't picked up any debris."

"The plasma storm might not leave any debris," Paris offered.

Janeway looked at him thoughtfully from her chair. "We'd still be able to pick a residence trace from the warp core." She faintly heard a warning beep going off at the ops station.

"Captain," Kim said, studying his controls. "I'm reading a coherent tetryon beam scanning us."

Janeway looked up at him. "Origin Mister Kim?"

Kim shook his head, typing at his controls. "I'm not sure, there's also a displacement wave moving towards us."

"On screen," Janeway ordered, turning to look at the view screen. The Badlands came into view, but with an energy wave spanning the pink clouds, quickly approaching her ship. She felt a lump forming in her throat.

"That's no plasma storm," Barrett bluntly stated, anxiety laced in her voice.

"Analysis," Janeway ordered Kim, feeling her own anxiety growing.

"Some kind of polarized magnetic variation," Kim answered her.

"We might be able to disperse it with a graviton particle field," Cavit suggested from his position behind Stadi.

"Do it," Janeway ordered him. He moved away from the conn and quickly moved to tactical. "Red alert," Janeway said, standing up, Paris behind her. The lights on the bridge dimmed as the alarm sounded, flooding the cabin in a red glow. "Move us away from it Lieutenant," she ordered Stadi.

Stadi quickly complied. "New heading four one mark one zero eight," the Betazoid announced.

The ship lurched to its new course trying to outrun the displacement wave.

"Initiating graviton field," Cavit announced from tactical.

Janeway watched on the screen as the graviton field was dispersed into the displacement wave. A warning blare from Ops told her what she needed to know before Kim announced that the field had no effect. The wave was still moving towards them. "Full impulse," she told Stadi. However faster they seemed to go, the wave seemed to match. She felt her heart quicken. The wave had the potential to tear her ship apart, killing her crew along with herself and her children. I should have listened to my mother! My children are going to die because of my selfishness!

"The wave will intercept us in twelve seconds," Kim announced. It sounded like a death sentence to Janeway's ears.

"Can we go to warp," she asked, anxiously.

"Not until we clear the plasma field, Captain," Stadi replied, nervously looking up at the view screen at the fast approaching displacement wave.

"Five seconds!"

"Brace for impact!" Janeway ordered turning about to find her chair as a bright light engulfed the bridge. She was just getting there when there was a flash of white light and the ship was thrown about violently. She grabbed a hold of whatever she could but it was no use. The power of the wave hitting the ship forced her hands to lose their grip on the arms of her chair that she was clinging too and she was slammed onto the deck, where for a few brief seconds everything went black.

When she came too she managed to crawl up on her knees. There was smoke in the cabin, mangled pieces of pipes hanging down from the ceiling, and sparks emitting from broken power lines and conduits. The lights were low. Glancing about she noticed her First Officer lying on his back near the conn station. Janeway pushed her self up onto her knees and crawled towards the injured Cavit. He had been trying to get back to his chair as well when the wave hit. Hair in her face, she placed a hand to Cavit's neck to find a pulse but there was none. Taking the dead officer's hand in her own she closed her eyes briefly and said a silent prayer.

"Report!" she yelled over her shoulder to a hopefully unharmed Harry Kim.

Kim had been thrown from his station but was not hurt. He quickly rushed over to his beeping controls. "Hull breach, deck fourteen. comm lines to Engineering are down. I'm trying to reestablish," Kim announced.

Janeway got to her feet and went to the nearest station, moving Paris out of the way by gently touching his arm. "Repair crews seal off hull breach on deck fourteen," she ordered, accessing the computer to hopefully locate her children. Oh please, don't let them be hurt, she prayed to herself. She heard an "Aye captain," come over the comm. line but she was not sure who it was. Her mind was in a state of flux; she had to find the children.

"Casualty reports coming in," tactical said. "Sickbay is not responding."

"Bridge to sickbay," Janeway called. There was no answer. "Doctor, can you hear me?" she asked, glancing to her left. She noticed Paris at her feet, leaning over an injured Stadi. The young woman's dark eyes were frozen open in pain and horror; blood covered her face and uniform. "Paris how's Stadi?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"She's dead," Paris answered, softly making eye contact with the Captain. The older woman looked away from him. He moved about on the floor trying to gain his bearings. That's when he saw Barrett, laying on back at the foot of her chair. She had a gash running down the length of her face and from where he was situated it appeared that she was not breathing. He crawled towards her and checked for a pulse. It was fairly strong and she was breathing. He guessed that the blow to the head had knocked her out and she had a concussion.

Pulling out his tricorder he hoped that he could get some form of readings on her even if the instrument he was holding in his hand wasn't a medical tricorder. The tiny device managed to give him her vitals but other than that, he wasn't sure the extent of her injuries.

Barrett groaned and her eyes opened slightly to look at him. "Paris?" she whispered.

"Hold on," he told her, putting the tricorder away. "You have a nasty cut on your head, maybe even a concussion and it looks like you took a pretty good tumble out of your seat there. You should lay here until we can get you to sickbay."

"Help me up," she instructed him.

"Counselor, you really shouldn't move until a crew can take you to sickbay."

She reached out and grabbed a hold of his upper arm and used it to force her self up into a sitting position. "Damn it, Paris, I'm fine! Now help me up! That's an order!"

He hated how she had pulled the rank on him to get what she wanted but did as he was told, stating, "I don't think your in much a position to be ordering me around, but have it your way." She made it to her feet, but not without a few wobbles before she could gain her own bearings. Immediately she went to help the others. Like a true Starfleet officer, Paris observed going to stand besides Janeway who was furiously running her fingers over the conn.

"Is the main computer up?" Janeway was yelling at tactical. She had a frayed tone to her voice and Paris immediately thought of the little boy in the mess hall. The woman was trying to find her kids. He came to stand besides her and began using the controls, while Rollins replied that the main computer was off line.

Of course, it would be too easy to ask the computer where the kids were, Tom thought as he accessed the internal sensors. It would be easy enough to refine them to search for two human children, since they were the only youths on the ship; it was just going to take a little bit longer than asking the computer.

Janeway was growing increasingly more frustrated. All she wanted to do at that moment was locate her children but everyone yelling different reports at her kept her from doing what she desired. It was making her mind go in what felt like five thousand directions. She wasn't sure what problem she should focus on first; there were just so many of them she didn't know where to start.

"Captain, there's something out there," Kim announced.

She rolled her eyes. "I need a better description than that Mister Kim."

"I don't know… I'm reading," he paused, "I'm not sure what I'm reading."

Janeway felt helpless, confused. The wave should have ripped the ship apart in the Badlands but somehow it was here, all in one piece, mostly. It was something that she was going to have to figure out later. Right now, they had more pressing matters. She opened her mouth to say something to Kim when Paris whispered, "The kids are okay, they're in your quarters, and life signs are strong."

She looked at him gratefully and silently acknowledged him. "Can you get the view screen operational?" she asked Kim.

"I'm trying," Kim responded. Suddenly the static on the view screen disappeared to show a massive array with several arms in the middle of space. It was dispersing a pulse of energy every few seconds that shot out into the distance of space. Janeway or anyone on the bridge for that matter had not seen anything like it ever and it was mesmerizing. What is going on? Janeway thought. There were no reports of a space station anywhere near the Badlands. She heard another beeping noise from the operations station.

"Captain if these sensors are working. We're over 70,000 light years from where we were. We're on the other side of the galaxy," Kim announced.

Paris glanced at Janeway whose eyes were locked on the array. This is not what I had bargained for, he thought.

"Captain, the Maquis ship is out there, but I'm not reading any life signs," Kim reported.

Janeway stepped around a crew taking Stadi's body off of the bridge. "What about on that…that array?" she questioned stepping up to Kim's station. She glanced over her shoulder at the alien array. A few minutes ago they had been in the Badlands and now her new operations officer was telling her that her ship had been hurled across the galaxy, over seventy thousand light years from home. This isn't how she had envisioned the mission to retrieve the Maquis to go. Then again, she reasoned, nothing every seemed to go right when you were a Starfleet officer. It was just a part of the job.

"Our sensors can't penetrate it," Kim's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Any idea what those pulses are coming from it Mister Kim?"

"Massive burst of radon energy. They seemed to be directed towards a nearby G-type star system."

"Try hailing the array," Janeway said, making her way up to the command station. There was a comm. signal as she did so.

"Engineering to bridge. We have severe damage. The Chief's dead. Possibility of a warp core breach."

Janeway took a deep breath before turning about. "Secure all engineering systems! I'm on my way." As she passed by Kim he looked at her gravely.

"No response from the array," he told her.

"Ensign, get down to sickbay. See what's going on," Janeway ordered Kim, she looked over at tactical. "Sarah the bridge is yours," she said disappearing into the turbo lift.

Paris turned about to see Kim get into another turbo lift. He sprinted towards the lift, calling, "Harry, wait for me." He grabbed a hold of Sarah's arm, who had been helping Rollins. "Come on Counselor, time to get fixed up, and I won't take no for an answer. You're not going to be able to pull rank on me this time."

"But," Sarah sputtered, "Captain Janeway left me in charge of the bridge."

"And you're not fit to command right now."

His grip was too tight for her to attempt to break free. As he yanked her into the turbo lift she managed to yell out, "Mister Rollins you have the bridge!" She was just going to have to go unwillingly with Paris, throbbing head and all.

#janeway x chakotay #star trek voyager fanfiction #star trek voyager #kathryn janeway #chakotay #tom paris #sarah barrett (oc)#harry kim #b'elanna torres #kes #neelix #the doctor (emh)#tom paris x ofc

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rise-above-the-grave · 7 years

Text

Why Kathryn Janeway Is Really Fucking Important To Me

Where--how--do I even start this? With an apology? With a disclaimer that this is just my own interpretation of Kathryn Janeway’s character; with a carefully worded statement to ensure that everyone understands that this is just about her character’s relevance to my own life as I have understood her, and it? With a self-deprecating joke about my own mental and emotional instability?

Are any of those things even necessary? Will anyone even read this?

(Probably not. So why am I even writing it? Or, rather, why am I even posting it, because I know why I’m writing it--or trying to write it, at least.)

Perhaps I should start with a couple of explanations--of me, and of her, because without those, none of this will make much sense.

First, her: In one of the Voyager novels, it was revealed that Kathryn, along with Owen Paris, was captured by Cardassians. In the book itself, to my understanding, their captivity was portrayed as both short and fairly mild--at least Kathryn’s part of it. Amongst the fandom, however, there seems to be a general consensus that what happened was not quite as vanilla as the book indicates.

Amongst the fandom, there is a group--and I am part of this group--that believes she was raped by the Cardassians.

I say this because this is, truly, the heart and root of my understanding of--and of my connection with--her character.

Because, you see, I too have been raped. I’ve been raped more than once--more times than I can count, actually, because the thing that did it, again and again and again, has been in my life literally since the day I was born.

And that’s different than her case: because she was a prisoner, and she was rescued, while I’m still not free of him; she was an adult when it happened, and what happened with me started at about six or seven.

And yet... and yet. When I look at her, I see mirrored in her--in her eyes, in her words, in the subtle ways she acts--myself. I see some of the darkest and most fucked up and broken parts of me.

Self-sacrifice is one of her themes throughout the entire show, from “Night” to “Sacred Ground”, and each time it can be connected back to her guilt over having stranded her ship and crew in the Delta Quadrant.

And yet it’s even more than that. It always is. You don’t just suddenly become the kind of person who feels like dying is the only recompense for hurting people. And such is the case with Kathryn.

She doesn’t take care of herself--and to an extent that goes well beyond the threshold of “She’s the captain and she’s busy.” We know, from numerous conversations she has with Chakotay, that she doesn’t eat much. The Doctor is constantly berating her for not going to her physicals, for not going to see him when she’s sick, for ignoring his suggestions, and even orders, when it comes to personal health. She drinks way too much caffeine--and yes, that’s an act of self-sabotage as much as it is an addiction.

But it goes even deeper than that. She tortures herself. She literally tortures herself, for (real or perceived) wrongdoings. For instance, in “Latent Image” she denies herself sleep as punishment for her choice--right or wrong--to keep The Doctor in the dark.

And those things--you don’t just wake up one day and decide you’re not going to eat. You don’t accidentally make a habit of sabotaging your physical health. You don’t just decide refuse yourself sleep one night because you feel bad about something.

You do those things because you hate yourself. You do it because you believe you deserve it--and that you don’t deserve anything else.

And you don’t get there accidentally. You don’t wake up one day and decide you deserve to hurt, or to die slowly and painfully. You don’t get there without something in your head getting fucked up beyond recognition.

She hides it all. She hides it, and I’d even say she hides it well.

(How many people, even now, watching the show, think that she’s too “perfect” of a character? That she is flawless, and unrealistic?)

She hides it beneath a very carefully constructed facade of control--and fucking hell, does Kathryn Janeway have a thing about control. She hides her insecurities and her fear and even her self-loathing with a veneer of hubris, of arrogance, of intelligence. She presents herself as right about everything--and every captain needs to have an element of that in their personality, or else how can they lead--but we see, time and again, as she balks and spits and lashes out whenever someone challenges her or her decisions.

(Every time. Every. single. time that someone challenges her, she reacts poorly. She snaps at them, and she puts them back in their place--because she is the captain, and what she decides is law. And then, often as not, she comes back to them later, and admits that she was wrong, and she concedes to their point of view. But at the beginning, in that first moment of confrontation, she does not handle it well. Ever.)

And that, too, is something that I understand. Because I cling desperately to my control--and to my point of view, and my understanding of the world and my place in it, because I have to (I have to, I have to, I have to)--and even when I realize that I was wrong, even when I concede, in the first moment of confrontation, I do not handle it well. Ever.

Because I have a carefully constructed harness of control, over my own life and over the world around me. Because no one can know how fucked up I am, how broken and how fragile my hold on my own life and sanity are.

Don’t get me wrong: Kathryn Janeway is an incredibly strong individual. (So am I, or so I’m told.) But you can be strong--adamantine, and steel, and diamond--and still have only the barest grip on life.

(And that’s why you need the control--or so you think: Because if you lose the control, then you lose the world, and you lose yourself, and you lose everyone else who believed you to be one thing when you were, in reality, another.)

And again, you don’t get here by accident. You don’t get here by one day waking up and deciding you’re going to be like this.

You get here by having the control stripped from you--ripped away, torn away, raped away--until you have nothing. Until you are nothing.

And then you build it back up, piece by piece and strip by strip. You piece that control back together, until it’s stronger than ever. And you do it so that no one can ever hurt you again without your permission.

You fit the entire world back into your newly constructed framework of control, and everything fits, because everything has to fit. Because without it, you are nothing but weak, and broken, and the cowering girl who was fucked again, and again, and again, and you could do nothing to stop it.

And this--all of this--is why Kathryn Janeway is so important to me. Because I can look at her, and I can see in her the darkness and the pain and the brokenness I see in myself.

But I can also see the ways that other people love her. I can see them love her, even through her arrogance and her stubbornness and her tightly held control. They love her, and they respect her. And they--some of them, at least--can see the cracks, can see her hatred and anger and brokenness seeping out. They know she’s not perfect, and they know she’s fucked up--catch glimpses of it, at least, even if they don’t know what it is they see--and they love her anyway. They love her, and they fight for her.

And I see her, and I see them, and I realize--this isn’t the end. This isn’t my end. There is hope for me. And there are people who love me, even when I don’t--when I can’t--see it.

And that...that changes everything.

She has changed everything. Because now...

Now I have hope.

#kathryn janeway #rape tw #character analysis #sort of?#captain janeway #welcome to seren's life #and if anyone wants to reblog this #or comment on it #or anything like that #feel free #(i mean please don't say ''you're stupid'' or whatnot because. that's not cool. but like. yeah i'm really chill about it.)

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chronotrek · 7 years

Text

741. [VOY] Lineage

SCORE:

(5/5 stars)

B'Elanna is going to work in a very good mood, so cheery it's borderline creepy. She has a sudden shift to crankiness when she sees Seven and Icheb working on the mezzanine without her authorization, but before she can read them the riot act, she feels lightheaded and begins to collapse. Icheb scans her and detects a foreign lifesign in her and worries she has a parasite, but Seven is a little wiser than that and calls the Doctor to expect a pregnant patient.

The Doctor gives her a clean bill of health, citing her fainting spell as just a clash of human and Klingon metabolisms, but he doesn't expect any major issues. B'Elanna doesn't want to know the sex of the baby yet, and she wants to keep the news between just her and Tom for now, but unfortunately, Icheb and Seven did not get that memo, and before they know it, they're each being congratulated by virtually every member of the crew.

He shows them a holographic projection of their child's spine ten months after birth, and there is pronounced curvature. B'Elanna notes that she had the same thing as a baby and had corrective surgery, as did her mother, so she's not too concerned with it. The Doctor accidentally lets the cat out of the bag on sex when he says that it runs in Klingon families, especially females. He attempts to backpedal but they say it's okay. Treatment has advanced since B'Elanna was born and surgery won't be necessary anymore as he can treat the imperfection genetically. Since he's analyzed the baby's genome, they ask him to show them a holographic recreation of the whole baby. Tom thinks the baby is beautiful and looks "just like her mother," but B'Elanna sees the ridges with consternation and begins having flashbacks.

When she was about twelve, her human father took her on a camping trip with her cousins and uncle. One of the cousins, a little shit, dropped a live worm on B'Elanna's sandwich since he heard Klingons prefer live food. This caused B'Elanna to get upset and run off until dark. When she returned, her dad took her aside and told her to not be so sensitive about her shitty racist cousins or the shitty racist kids at school and tried to relate it to when he was a kid and kids called him Snorres because he'd sleep in class. That's totally the same thing. Later that night, she overheard her dad and uncle talking where he confessed that he's having problems dealing with a household with two Klingons, and how he ignored his mother's advice not to marry a Klingon and appeared to now regret it.

After the genetic treatment is performed, B'Elanna goes to the holodeck and runs simulations on what her daughter will look like if she starts removing Klingon genes, and continues until the projected 12-year-old image of her daughter no longer has ridges. She proposes making these changes to the Doctor, but he isn't willing to just hack up her child's DNA willy-nilly. He tells her to discuss it with Tom while he agrees to at least look over B'Elanna's findings. Tom is totally opposed to this course of treatment, and the conversation leads to one where B'Elanna essentially tells Tom to check his human privilege because he doesn't know what it's like growing up when everyone is one way and you're another. She has struggled with her mixed heritage her whole life and doesn't want her daughter to go through the same thing she did.

They can't come to an agreement, and after B'Elanna unsuccessfully tries to get Janeway involved to override the Doctor's objections and has a further argument with Tom in the hallway, she locks him out of their quarters, so he spends the night at Harry's. The next morning, she's walking to the mess hall with Chakotay when Tom comes along, and Chakotay conveniently remembers that he's forgotten something, leaving the two alone to reconcile. They're soon called to sickbay, where the Doctor has revealed that after reviewing B'Elanna's findings, he thinks the alterations are now necessary as they point to metabolic incapatabilities between the human and Klingon genes. He says the sooner they treat, the better, and has scheduled the procedure for the morning.

Something doesn't sit right about the Doctor's sudden change of heart, and Tom takes his findings to Seven and Icheb to review. Icheb finds immediate problems with the Doctor's analysis, and he's not one to usually make mistakes. Seven realizes B'Elanna has tampered with his program, and Tom tries to hail her but gets no response. She's in Sickbay, where she's opted not to wait until morning to undergo the procedure. She's locked out the room and it takes Tuvok's security team to force the door open. After they tell the Doctor that his program has been altered, he agrees to deactivate himself until they can sort it out.

Tom has everyone else clear out of sickbay so he can talk things out with his wife. She relates the story of her camping trip with her father, and how after overhearing his complaints about how hard it is to live with Klingons, she stormed out of her tent and told him he should just leave. Two weeks later, he left. Tom realizes she fears he'll walk out on her too, and promises he'd never do that and he hopes to have many Klingon babies in their future. The Doctor's program is restored, and B'Elanna apologizes for altering it and asks the Doctor to be the child's godfather. The baby starts to kick, and she asks to see the projection one more time. "She is cute, isn't she?"

NITPICKS

At 8 years old, Alexander Rozhekno was already matured to the equivalent of a human teenager despite being a human/Klingon hybrid. Here is B'Elanna at 12, and she's only just as matured as a fully human 12-year-old. It could be that Klingon males and females develop at different rates, or an unusual interaction between the two genomes that express differently per sex.

When did Harry switch from clarinet to saxophone? I know they are played similarly, but this is the first time we've seen him play the sax.

FAVORITE QUOTES

Icheb: I'm detecting another lifesign. Seven: Where? Icheb: Inside Lieutenant Torres. It could be a parasite. [Seven checks his tricorder readings.] Seven: Seven of Nine to the Doctor. Doctor: Go ahead. Seven: I'll be accompanying Lieutenant Torres to Sickbay. Doctor: What's wrong? Seven: I believe she's pregnant.

Chakotay: Have you checked the warp core for radiation leaks today? Torres: No. Why? Chakotay: You have a certain glow about you.

Kim: It's all over now. No more late nights on the holodeck. No more racing the Delta Flyer. Paris: Don't you think you're exaggerating just a little? Kim: I've seen it happen. The new dad gets tied down with family. Old friends drop away. Paris: It's fatherhood , Harry, not exile. Kim: If you say so.

Tuvok: Offspring can be disturbingly illogical, yet profoundly fulfilling. You should anticipate paradox.

Paris: Maybe a change of scenery would help. How about the holodeck? Torres: That's your solution to everything.

Kim: Maybe you should tell her you understand. Paris: What good would that do? Kim: It might make her less defensive, and then maybe it would be easier for her to see your point of view. Paris: What if she can't? Kim: Like I said, my couch is your couch.

#star trek #voyager #voy #chronotrek #chronological #review #lineage #b'elanna torres #check your human privilege #mixed heritage #pregnancy

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