#like the very suggestion of her (or any other bajoran) having to interact with a cardassian is unthinkable and offensive? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deepspacewhore · 1 year

Text

In honor of my one year tumblr anniversary! <3

An uncharacteristic garashir fic! (you guys are just too influential) - Julian struggles with being rejected by Garak.

-----

Two hours. That was all it took to throw him off balance again.

All week leading up to the two hours Julian had been thinking about the two hours. Thinking to himself, two hours, that’s it. That’s all I have to get through and then I can go back to Not Seeing Him.

Not Seeing Garak had been good to him. Sure, it hadn’t exactly meant not thinking about him. But it was a much better type of thinking about him than when he had to see him. If he had to see him, his thoughts about their latest interaction would go on and on and on. Scrutinizing and analyzing over and over his words, his replies, his facial expressions, his body language, his perfect dumb face, his stupidly perfect body. Any interaction they had was fodder for near-obsessive thinking about him, which he hated.

But when he was Not Seeing Him there was nothing to analyze (except the past which was so, so behind him). And when he was Not Seeing Him but thinking about him Julian could more selectively control what he thought about him. Very good intelligence officer. Very bad romantic interest. Emotionally fucked up. Little to no self awareness. And Garak had hurt him, really hurt him.

Garak seemed surprised when Julian, a few months ago, first suggested Not Seeing Him except for when they had to for work. Upset, even. “My dear doctor, our lunches have been a staple for over seven years now.” But Julian thought it was kind of fucked up that he was surprised and upset. Julian was also surprised and upset just a few weeks before that when he told Garak that he’d had feelings for him and Garak replied in no uncertain terms that he did not feel the same way. To say Julian was crushed was a fierce understatement. He tried to continue on normally with Garak after that – lunchtime book banter and chatting as they strolled the promenade, but it all became too painful. Finally, Not Seeing Him became the only solution that didn’t involve Julian feeling insane.

And so it was. Very good intelligence officer. Very bad romantic interest. Emotionally fucked up. Little to no self awareness. When he thought about those things, the train of thought could end there. And he could move on with his day.

It all went wrong in the first three minutes.

Julian walked into the command meeting and Garak was holding court, telling a story to a few other senior officers while they waited for Sisko, who was running late.

“And this older Bajoran woman comes in and I ask to see her receipt and she gives me an attitude –” Garak notices Julian walk in. “Why hello doctor, I’m just talking about work today.” He was a tailor.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just going to -” Julian points at his padd and takes a seat around the oval command table. Garak nods and continues. Julian knows Garak wants him to listen, but he doesn’t want to listen.

“She starts giving me an attitude and says, ‘Oh sure like someone who doesn’t shop here is just going to walk in and try to return a dress’ – rife with sarcasm. So I tell her, ‘I know I’m not the most popular tailor in the quadrant but I do have my fair share of customers and I actually don’t remember them all by heart.’ Mind you, I do remember them all by heart and I have never seen this woman in my life,” He rolls his eyes and the other senior officers laugh. Julian does not. He is very concentrated on logging onto his padd.

“And then she’s fishing around in her bag, all theatrics and drama, and she pulls out her receipt – so she did have a receipt, you see – but then – she waves it in my face,” he stands up to demonstrate with Odo, “this close, an inch from my nose. And I start seeing red.” The other officers are all tittering in agreement at the woman’s audacity, at Garak’s righteousness. Julian shakes his head in disapproval so as not to appear rude but doesn’t look up from his padd.

“And it’s of course related to me being a Cardassian but it’s also gendered because a man wouldn’t have tried such a thing, don’t you agree Commander Worf?”

“Because you would’ve countered with violence,” said Worf matter-of-factly.

“Exactly, I would’ve had to respond,” Garak joked. “But, and the point of the story is, I did snap as they say. I said something, I can’t even remember what I said but it was not for polite society. And after I did it I felt...well remorseful, honestly. Mostly for the consequences to myself,” he said cheekily and winked at Dax. “She could’ve reported me to Odo, I could’ve lost my post here with Command, lost more business,” he shook his head, “I’m really realizing I have a short temper.”

At this, Julian couldn’t help it. He snorted. “Really?” he said in a fake-shocked voice. He said it quietly, such an instinct reaction that it wasn’t even really meant for the group to hear. But it was audible enough. The senior officers laughed and Garak turned his attention to Julian.

“Well, yes, but I don’t think you all have actually seen me lose my temper.”

“What do you mean?” Julian asked incredulously. “Like when you punched that guy in the face?”

“I’m saying, doctor, that you’ve heard stories, but you haven’t seen it.”

“I was definitely there when you punched that man in the face. Dulu?”

Garak paused. “Oh yes.” He laughed and turned to Dax and stage-whispered. “I forgot about that.” The officers shook their heads and groan-laughed.

Julian shook his head and returned his focus to his padd. He remembered the day Garak punched Dulu vividly, six years ago. At the time, they were just two friends, living down the hall from each other on the station, still new to Deep Space Nine. Dulu was a visiting dignitary from Bajor. Granted, he was being an absolute prick. He came to Garak’s quarters and screamed at him to turn off his “horrid droning music” because they “didn’t live on Cardassia.” Technically, Garak spit in his face first. That caused Dulu to lunge at Garak and then Garak punched him in the face. Julian had been in Garak’s living room eating pasta when he watched the altercation go down. When they started fighting he shouted and ran to pull Garak off of him and at some point an ensign had heard the yelling and Julian realized she was already in the process of pulling Dulu off of Garak. When they were finally separated, Julian swiftly pressed the button to close the quarter doors and lock them, shutting them out.

“Are you absolutely insane?” Julian said panting. His mind was racing. There was no way Dulu wasn’t going to call security. And Dulu was an esteemed Federation guest. Garak was going to get kicked off of Deep Space Nine. Julian was fuming.

But he looked at Garak, who was standing against the wall with his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He was crying. Julian sighed. He walked over to him and put his arms around his shoulders. “It’s fine. It’s going to be okay.”

Now Julian shook his head as if to clear the memory from his brain’s cache. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that Garak “forgot about that.” It doesn’t matter that a day later Julian had also started crying while he lectured at Garak that their purpose was to do serious things, great things – for the Federation and for Cardassia – and that Garak had to figure out a way to control that temper or they would be in serious trouble and not be able to make anything of their lives. It doesn’t matter that Garak nodded and hugged him and promised that he would do better. It doesn’t matter that Garak probably doesn’t remember any of that at all. It doesn’t matter that now when Garak occasionally tells that story he only ends at the punch and it’s just a funny anecdote and Julian doesn’t know if he is purposefully leaving the rest out or if he truly just remembers it as a funny story. And they’re not even friends anymore so he can’t ask. Not that it matters.

One hour and 57 minutes left.

------------------

He breezed through the first half of the meeting. It was always easier when the work got started. Sisko informed them of the agenda. Odo gave a briefing. Worf, O’Brien and Julian all gave their reports. There was work to do and plenty of it. They were all on the same page, even when they weren’t. There was a war to win with the Dominion and they were gonna do it or die trying. That was when Julian liked them all best, liked Garak best, liked himself best. If nothing else, there was this.

-----------------

But halfway through hour two, they got into a fight.

They were reviewing their upcoming tactical plan, put together by Garak. It was a beautiful strategy. It was an amalgamation of their collective efforts, yes, but it was largely based on Garak’s intelligence and his leg work and ability to weave it together in the time-frame that he did was undeniable. Sometimes going through Garak’s work he thought to himself in an almost detached way how cool it was to be working with a modern day genius, a contemporary thinker the likes of which were absolutely on par with Spock or Picard. Julian worked with several geniuses actually, but Garak approached war with a vigor and discipline that these days was unmatched by any of them. It inspired him. And if he was being non-detached about it, it turned him on. Which is why he rarely brought it up.

Everyone was giving their feedback on the plan, making adjustments and getting clarification. It was going to be their biggest endeavor yet. Winning over the people of Begalon 6 so their moons could be used as safehavens was a crucial move for the Alpha Quadrant – and there were so many things to think about. Security, negotiations, timing.

Julian had only a few tweaks, but there was one that he felt particularly strongly about. He braced himself and spoke.

“We say here that we will eventually take over the vacant moons there even without consulting Belagonian ruling council,” he said pointing at the map on screen. “I remember that coming up last time as a suggestion but now it’s written in here as if it’s a sure thing. And I don’t know if I agree with it. We haven’t thought it through logistically.”

“I thought you might say that, Doctor,” Garak said. “Which is why I have written here,” he switched the screen, “the reasons why this makes sense to do. Because it doesn’t matter if we have the logistics figured out quite yet if it’s the correct thing to do.”

It was a long note, several paragraphs, giving the importance of these moons’ coordinates, how his view on it was more tactically sound than the Federation view in the context of this war (better to ask for forgiveness than permission) and how it was an essential part of this war to prevent Dominion gaining territory. They all took a few minutes to read it. Julian read it but felt it didn’t answer his question.

“I mean I agree with this all theoretically. But you’re missing my point,” Julian began.

Garak sighed and put his head in his hands. “I’m already just dying to hear what it is now,” he muttered sarcastically.

This made Julian pissed. “Well, that’s excellent because I’m going to tell you,” he said defiantly. The room got quiet. Sisko rubbed his temples. Nobody else ever fought like this.

“I don’t need to think about this logistically like how do we land our shuttlecrafts or how many rations do we bring, I mean we haven’t discussed how it looks in terms of our tactics.”

“This is infuriating,” Garak muttered. His head was still in his hands and he was visibly tensing. “You’re looking at it as part of a written tactical plan. So what is it this time, my lack of caution or lack of morals?”

Julian felt Garak wasn’t even listening. It was making him madder. He started to rap his fists on the table to emphasize his points.

“I’m saying, will the risks of this even be worth it in terms of our overall goals? We won’t be able to defend ourselves if the ruling council doesn’t agree to negotiations. If we do, there would be casualties. We could make a potential enemy. They could turn to the Dominion,” His voice was getting harsher with every sentence. The room was getting uncomfortable. “We haven’t even discussed that, we haven’t agreed on it and I don’t think it’s wrong to want to be clear on these things before it’s included officially! I don’t think that’s wrong -”

“No, that’s not wrong,” Garak finally sighed and cut him off. “You’re not wrong, I’m well aware that it’s a risk, it’s just -” he looked up at the ceiling. “Forgive me. This is making me angry and I have to think about why I’m angry.”

Julian nodded and exhaled. He looked into his lap, trying to regulate his breathing. The other officers waited too.

“For me, and this is just my view, Doctor, but it’s like you think I haven’t thought about these things when I bring them up. I put a lot of careful thought into this. And in the past, you have brought up times where I was...unorthodox in my methods, my time on Cardassia or what have you – and it’s like you think I’m still that Garak. That I haven’t changed or developed, when I have.” He looked hurt. It admittedly pained Julian a little. “It just – it brews in the back of my mind, is all.”

“No, that’s not it,” Julian said clearly. It was true he had brought up those things in the past, questionable decisions Garak had made. In the context of those situations, he had thought Garak was being unprincipled and, yes, in those instances Julian probably was being overly cautious and unfair to him. But this was different.

“Like I wrote out this whole piece for you,” Garak said gestured frustratedly. “To be prepared. Because I knew you’d ask.”

“Well I wrote out my notes for you,” he shot back. “I know you’ve thought about these things but we don’t know all the things you’re thinking. You have so much knowledge in your head and we are not united on all the things in your head, Garak,” he said. Garak nodded reluctant, still annoyed.

“And I feel like sometimes I will ask questions because I’m skeptical or Sisko will and you will just act like we’re trying to call you evil or a rogue or something – but we’re just not united yet.” Garak nodded again.

“I mean I too would like to use the moons for the advancement of the war. I just want to talk things through,” he concluded. He finally leaned his elbows on the chair’s armrests, winded.

“I understand that. I do,” Garak conceded.

They both stared at the screen. At this point Dax jumped in and tried to summarize their debate to come to resolution. Neither of them were fully listening.

Julian felt drained somehow. He looked at Garak and knew he felt the same, he looked slumped. Why had that been so draining? It was barely a fight. They’d had much bigger fights before.

“So with all that being said, can we unite that we want to talk through this point more before we include it in our overall plan?” Dax asked.

“Just keep it in the plan,” Julian waved his hand. He felt defeated even though he technically won the argument. “But make a note that we’ll talk it out later more thoroughly.”

“Okay sounds good,” Dax nodded, added the note to screen. “Garak? We good to move on?”

Garak sighed. “I just don’t like when we fight.” He looked directly at Julian. Julian felt something inside, but he didn’t know what.

Me neither, he thought but didn’t say. It felt too intimate for the room.

Instead he lied. “Yes, well. It’s fine. I mean, I’m fine,” he said lightly. He wanted to make Garak feel better.

“Yes, well. Good for you,” Garak spat. He’d meant it to sound light, but the bitterness seeped out. He sat down in his chair. Julian suddenly wished he hadn’t lied. He also wished he could lean back into his chair and it could absorb him so he wouldn’t be at this meeting anymore.

He looked at his watch. Ten minutes.

-----------------------------------

After the two hours, he lay in his bed, unable to stop replaying the fight. Garak’s words and phrases flew through his head, “I wrote this for you” “you think I’m still that Garak” “I just don’t like when we fight” “I just don’t like when we fight” “I just don’t like when we fight”

Just seeing his hurt face, Julian wanted to crawl up to Garak on his knees, burrow his face in his chest and apologize profusely. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve changed. I think you’re a genius, you know. Do you really not know what I think of you?” But instead he’d brushed the whole thing off. It’s fine. I’m fine.

Then the argument itself. Garak writing in something he knew Julian would question and then writing something in response because he knew Julian would ask. Julian writing a response to something he knew Garak included despite Garak knowing that he would be mad about it and Julian knowing before he brought it up that Garak was going to get mad about him bringing it up.

It was all too much. Was it possible, was it truly possible, that two people could know each other so well and not be in love?

It is possible, a voice in his head answered. Worse, it is true.

“I just don’t like when we fight,” Garak had said. He was talking about Not Seeing Him. Not Seeing Him was the biggest, most silent fight they’d ever been in. But Not Seeing Him was the only way Julian could think of to move on with his life.

So he filed the argument away as “the past” and decided firmly to return to his regularly scheduled programming.

Very good intelligence officer. Very bad romantic interest.

He went to bed.

#garashir #fanfic #ds9 #star trek #Julian Bashir #julian x garak

7 notes · View notes

el-im · 3 years

Text

ok no one cares but i am once again thinking about how andrew j. robinson’s writing in a stitch in time fundamentally changed the the way i’ve come to view garak and how i interpret the “Of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren't?” / "My dear Doctor, they're all true." / "Even the lies?" / "Especially the lies.” interaction from the wire (which initially i was very thrown off by). by suggesting that the stories garak fabricates are indicative of how he chooses to define himself, i think the stories from the wire serve specifically to illustrate what garak most covets/coveted in life, and that they contain elements of the circumstances/relationships/motivations/etc. that garak never had, or were beyond his reach. by making up these particular circumstances, garak is juxtaposing his words against the actuality of his life, and by that comparison his lies demonstrate the truth of his relationship with tain, his work in the obsidian order, and his personal convictions...

Story 1: “During the occupation, I was a Gul in the Cardassian Mechanised Infantry. We were stationed just outside the Bajoran Capital. Shortly before the withdrawal, a handful of Bajoran prisoners escaped from my custody. My aide, a man named Elim, tracked them to a Cardassian shuttle about to depart for Terok Nor. Elim got aboard, but the captain refused to let him search the ship, because he claimed he was under strict orders from Gul Dukat to depart immediately. So I had the shuttle destroyed, killing the escapees, Elim, and ninety seven Cardassian civilians... I followed my orders. None of those prisoners escaped off of Bajor alive. Unfortunately as it turned out, one of the passengers on the shuttle was the daughter of a prominent military official. I was stripped of my rank and commission, and exiled from Cardassia.”

-> what i get from this one is that garak wants a) companionship (in this “aide”, elim), b) authority (in my mind, this is more of a past item of desire. in his youth in the obsidian order, he wanted to emulate tain, and was indoctrinated to think that power should be sought after above all else, and not relinquished), and c) ruthlessness. the crowning jewel of tain’s service as the head of the obsidian order, garak grew up with detachment and brutality being demonstrated as the guiding principle of leadership, command, delegation... the funny thing about all these garak episodes, and which I am glad to see that the fandom so readily picked up on (see one of my favorite posts: “i don’t understand why ds9 fandom casts garak as some sort of suave oscar wilde daddy dom when he’s clearly the kind of older man who gets trashed at a casino at 3pm on thursdays and tips dabo boys extra to hold him while he cries”) is that for all his posturing, for all his discussion about the difference between cardassian principles and “federation dogma”, for all we actually, genuinely learn about what garak did during his time in the obsidian order (for all interested in garak’s life pre-terok nor/ds9, please take this free link and read a stitch in time it’s one of like... two trek novels i’d ever recommend and is so good i promise <3), for all we learn about what he did after (the assassination of senator vreenak “in in the pale moonlight”), garak still doesn’t... come off as hardened, or unfeeling. he repeatedly demonstrates a willingness to put himself in harm's way to save the people he cares about (most notably, bashir/martok during their time in the jem hadar prison, but even once going to cardassia to save kira, who detests/detested him (depending on if you believe their relationship changed over the course of the show) and risking arrest/execution by returning to cardassia during his exile). for all his pretending otherwise (from second skin: GARAK: “I have no intention of sacrificing my life to save yours. If it looks like we're in danger of being captured... if there are any signs of trouble at all... you're on your own. SISKO: Mister Garak, I believe that's the first completely honest thing you've ever said to me.”), Garak isn’t selfish, or at the least isn’t constantly, predictably selfish. He’s self-sacrificial more often that he’s given credit for, he’s occasionally kind. I think the first story he tells in the wire is so indicative of the inner conflict he feels. inside him is a child who was brought up to revel in the glory of violence in the middle of a military occupation of another world. there is a part of him that persists in believing strength is only fortification, obfuscation, invulnerability. and yet there is a part of him now wrestling with the belief that he can only be saved through honesty, by telling bashir about the implant and why it’s there and who he is that warrants it. one of the most remarkable things about this wholly incredible episode is this struggle between these two parts of himself.

and really, garak isn’t stubborn, or stupid. he knows if he wants to save his life (and for a moment... for some inexplicable reason, he does), he’ll have to give bashir some tipping hint. he has to tell him enough of the truth to give him a way to help him, and that’s what all these stories come down to. he is hinting as best he can. he is explaining as much as possible, so as not to betray the angry little boy inside him who sees this addiction as a weakness, who sees his attachment to bashir, and to his life on the station as a vulnerability, exploited. then there’s a second layer in which (after discovery that garak is elim) the audience gleans that garak (in his youth) desperately wanted direction, for someone to tell him what do to and how to do it--that he wanted to be excused from his actions on the basis of “following direct orders”... god, but then I think about how garak chooses to kill the figure of elim he paints here. paired with the resignation to his own fate at this point in the episode (garak knows a replacement device can’t be obtained, that his body is too reliant on the implant to function on its own, and that withdrawal without supplement will be deadly... which is to say garak is sure he is going to die), this seems so poignant. does he wish he’d have died years ago? killed in some random shoot out at the orders of someone higher up on the obsidian order’s chain of command? and can you imagine that? tain would bury the report so as to conceal his son’s involvement with the order (sentimentality always coming second to security, of course), letting this “elim garak” be listed as some citizen at the wrong place at the wrong time, a random victim of the violence of the bajoran occupation... garak, in an instant, would be forgotten. brushed aside by his father in favor of obscuring the actual operation undergone.

in the end i think the most i get from this version of the story is that subtle death wish. if he had been a less important operative, or if he had died then, he wouldn’t be enduring this now (return to the conversation about a lifetime serving cardassia re: “the neverending sacrifice” at the opening of the ep....). part of me believes garak wishes he would have died then, before he could have been exiled, before setting up his shop on the station, before meeting bashir...

garashir side note: “At first, he just wanted to have sex with him. That's absolutely clear. That's all he wanted from him. ‘Come to my shop, I got some nice clothes for you... but you'll have to change first.’ But then it really got complicated, especially when Garak's addiction and despair began to surface. He needed someone to share it with.” - Andy Robinson, from “What We Left Behind”. / “What we should've done, after The Wire in season two, the episode where Bashir helps him get over his addiction, we should've had Garak come out to Bashir as a gay Cardassian... Garak comes out as gay in season two, we have five seasons to play that Bashir and Garak relationship. Where that would have gone, who the hell knows, but it could've been so cool.” - Ira Steven Behr, from “What We Left Behind”.

Considering these two quotes from the actor who played Garak and the head writer on DS9, another thing about this episode I’m throwing my two cents in for is the obvious implications for this deepening the relationship between garak and bashir. One of the most frustrating things about this episode is how much it just begs for more, more, more. The casual banter about literature they start up at the beginning of the episode, the refusal on garak’s part of letting bashir take him the the infirmary (hello cardassian stubbornness, the whole scene reeks so much of ‘I do not want you to see me vulnerable, I want you to think me strong and independent and not in danger’. the whole charade reminds me so much of a wounded animal putting on a brave face so as to not be found out. garak does not want bashir (specifically!) to see him sick, to see him needing. he does not want to admit that he needs his help, that he needs him)...

then everything else that follows that, bashir worriedly reaching out to his friends for help and advice: talking to o’brien about his concerns for garak and asking about retrieving the cardassian medical files, then to dax, who tells him flatly “It sounds like you're taking this personally.... It's not like you two are really friends.”. the affront on bashir’s part at hearing that. “It's just that Garak and I have been having lunch together once a week for more than a year now. You'd think he'd come to trust me a little!” he exclaims. then how defeated and angry he is (violently stabbing her plant with mycorrhizae), the strong thread of bitterness humming in his honey-sweet voice, “If he doesn't want my help, that's his prerogative.”

there’s something so magnificent about the timeline here. how long they’ve known each other by now, the fact that bashir is the only person garak really considers his own on the station (“it isn’t bashir who dies, is it? Ira, you’re not going to kill off julian, are you? I mean, where does that leave me? I mean, he’s my only relationship in this show! I don’t have him, I have nothing. I’m hanging out in space with nobody to talk to!” - DS9Doc's Ira Steven Behr pushes for more DS9 in HD!)... it’s so plainly laid out that bashir is the only thing garak has, the only reason he has to be curious about what else life could bring him at this point in his life, so far from home, from his family, from the only job he ever felt he had been suited for.

which is not even to mention julian’s reaction to this first story. “So now you know, Doctor. I hope I haven't shattered too many of your illusions.” garak concludes. There is a pregnant pause of still hesitation (in which i imagine garak is reeling--because, at the same time, i think, despite this relay being an attempt to communicate his own misery, these stories are also made to push something in bashir. Garak is at the end of his rope, drifting (almost) untethered into unknown space and he is reaching out in the hope that julian, (despite, despite, despite...) will take his hand. Garak is trying to see just how far Julian will go to save him, to forgive him. He is trying to discover if there is an exception to his “federation dogma”, if there is really truth to that myth of human kindness he’d heard so much about... in this moment, Garak is playing this horrific, dangerous, loving, desperate game of cat and mouse. “Could you still love me if I...” he seems to say, and believes at some point he’ll be responded to with a “no”, but hopes, against his better judgement, beyond belief, that he wont be. And then Julian looks up at him, faces close enough for Garak to feel his steady breath on his cheeks as he says, calmly, “Listen to me, Garak. Right now I'm not concerned with what you did in the past. I'm simply not going to walk out of here and let you die. We need to turn that implant off and whatever withdrawal symptoms or side effects you may experience, I promise I'll help you through them. I need to know where that triggering device is. Where is it?”

And that line is it for me, beyond so much of the other golden ones in this episode. This is the first time that Garak hears that unequivocal acceptance, and it just sends him staggering. In all his life, he’s never been faced with love like that. His father pushed him away, let him believe for years that he wasn’t his son. Mila didn’t, or couldn’t, or wouldn’t put up a fight for him when Tain exiled him...

this is one moment in ds9 where i am particularly grateful for ds9 being filmed on a 4:3 aspect ratio that forced characters so close together to be in a shot. in this scene, a line from Shauna Barbosa’s “GPS”, Cape Verdean Blues comes back to me, and I look at the pair of them so close on the screen, Julian so open and Garak so agast, and I just think, “You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. Only / the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

all is to say: andy robinson himself has said that bashir is the only relationship garak has. assuming garak’s killing of elim in this first story is indicative of his own wish that he might have died during his work with the obsidian order (and thus been spared exile, the torture of life on the station, the gradual dependency he forged on the implant, and the inevitable withdrawal he was going to experience), there necessitates a question of why garak should agree to treatment (thus saving his life) only to continue living on a station he found so hellish in the past*

*oh... the magnificent (perfectly summative) conversation between Tain and Bashir... “BASHIR: He's dying. TAIN: And you're trying to save him. BASHIR: That's right. TAIN: Strange. I thought you were his friend. BASHIR: I suppose I am. TAIN: Then you should let him die. After all, for Garak, a life in exile is no life at all.”

to me, this question has three answers: 1. he is appeasing an insistent julian (though this begets the suggestion that garak doesn’t have much faith in julian’s treating him--in which case, garak decides that one of his last acts in life will be making julian happy) 2. he is choosing to live because he is... intrigued by julian. because he likes his company and the meals they share and the books they trade... and because he is curious to see where this relationship will go. Julian has made his life bearable (dare I say enjoyable? see: “GARAK: [They] left me to live out my days with nothing to look forward to but having lunch with you. BASHIR: I'm sorry you feel that way. I thought you enjoyed my company. GARAK: I did. And that's the worst part. I can't believe that I actually enjoyed eating mediocre food and staring into at your smug, sanctimonious face. ”) and has thus given him some reason to get up in the morning, even if it is for a frivolous little lunch appointment in another few days or 3. he is choosing to live not for julian, but directly because of him. even if this relationship has a platonic reading, it can’t be denied that julian opened up a new world for garak, and if nothing else was able to stay his boredom/disgust with life on the station

Story 2: GARAK: There was a time, Doctor, oh there was a time when I was a power. The protégé of Enabran Tain himself. Do you have any idea what that means?... Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand. My future was limitless until I threw it away. BASHIR: You mean when you had that shuttle shot down to stop those prisoners from escaping? GARAK: Stop them? I only wish that I had stopped them. BASHIR: You didn't? GARAK: No, Doctor, my disgrace was worse than that. Unimaginably worse. BASHIR: What could you have possibly done worse than that? GARAK: I let them go. It was the eve of the Cardassian withdrawal. Elim and I were interrogating five Bajorans. They were children, Doctor. None of them were older than fourteen years old. They knew nothing. They lived in bombed-out rooms, scrounged for food on the streets. They were filthy and they stank. The room was freezing cold, the air was like ice, and suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless. All I wanted was a hot bath and a good meal. So I let them go. I gave them whatever latinum I had in my pockets, and opened the door, and flung them back into the street. Elim couldn't believe his eyes. He looked at me as if I were insane.”

-> from this version of the story there’s a much clearer division between the elim garak (a young agent of the obsidian order baptized in fire) he was in his youth and the elim garak he is now (a disgraced former agent, exiled, alone save for one ambitious, self assured federation doctor). this, i think, seems to show the separation between what this character “elim” (young garak) wanted: which was uncompromising brutality and dedication to his work, and what present garak wants: peace, a full belly, the ability to be charitable (specifically to young, hungry bajorans)...

this story to me is one that best places this contemporary incarnation of garak relative to his bajoran counterparts on the station. in the beginning of this episode, when telling bashir why he initially chose to activate the implant, he speaks about how he, as the only cardassian living on ds9, is viewed by the bajorans living there. (“Living on this station is torture for me, Doctor. The temperature is always too cold, the lights always too bright. Every Bajoran on the station looks at me with loathing and contempt.”) In this story, by releasing the children and giving them the latinum he had, he’s trying to repent to Julian, asking to be forgiven for the part he played in the occupation of bajor by showing that he was/is (depending on how you view the timeline of the progression of his attitudes) sympathetic to them, and that he regrets the hand he had in bringing war, famine, and subjugation to them.

Story 3: “GARAK: Elim wasn't my aide. He was my friend. We grew up together. We were closer than brothers. For some reason, Enabran Tain took a liking to us. Before long, we were both powerful men in the Obsidian Order. They called us the Sons of Tain. Even the Guls feared us. And then there was a scandal. Someone in the Order was accused of letting some Bajoran prisoners escape. There were constant rumours of who was going to be implicated. Fingers were being pointed at me. By then Tain had retired to the Arawath Colony. He couldn't protect me, so I panicked. I did everything in my power to make sure that Elim was accused instead of me. I altered records, planted evidence, only to discover that he'd beaten me to it. BASHIR: He betrayed you first? GARAK: Elim destroyed me. Before I knew what was going on, I was sentenced to exile. And the irony is, I deserved it. Oh, not for the reasons they claimed, but because of what I had tried to do to Elim, my best friend.”

-> whenever I think back to this, my first impression remains that this is one of the stories where Bashir is considered. At this point, Garak’s been transferred from his room to the infirmary. Despite turning the implant off, toxins are continuing to accumulate in his lymphatic systems. He’s been sad (even woke bashir up with his weeping), he’s been angry (destroyed the vase and flipped the desk in his room, attacked bashir...), and now he’s calm, and tired. He thinks this is the end. He refuses to have the implant turned back on, which nurse jabara estimates might give him another week to live. This is the end of the line for him, and he’s accepting it with dignity and grace. He goes to release Bashir from his obligation to him “you’re done enough, Doctor. More than I deserve...” and goes to tell Bashir “the truth”. To me, this is his goodbye. Even if it isn’t a true story, this is the gift he’s giving Bashir. This is what he (spinner of wonderful lies, obfuscating agent of the despicable obsidian order) can give him as a parting gift--it is what he wants him to have.

in this story, Garak is not friendless, as he is on the station. He has a close relationship with someone (’see, then, doctor?’ he seems to ask playfully, life sputtering out of his eyes. ‘i am capable of it!’)... and yet, there is also betrayal. It reminds me of an assurance, in a way. “Bashir,” he seems to say, the entire weight of all the good doctor’s efforts to save him pressing down on his every word, “look what might have come to you had I allowed you to care for me. There is only danger for you to find in me.” In this, Elim stands in place of Bashir. A steadfast friend who Garak works against for the sake of self preservation. In this moment, Garak is pleading with the man standing above him next to the biobed. He is insisting Bashir be grateful for the shallowness of their relationship (something I Garak ensured deliberately), and telling him that, though he is grateful for him, that if they had been closer, Garak would only have caused him pain.

The heart of this story is Garak’s appraisal of his own self worth. Regardless of how much he’s changed since his time in the order, he persists in thinking he functions in the world to cause harm, much so that it is the only thing he’s able to do. Garak sees himself as the knife in the backs of others, or the hand raised, dagger in clutch.

the second thing i see is contained wholly within the line: “By then Tain had retired to the Arawath Colony. He couldn't protect me, so I panicked.” aside from assurances made to bashir, i think the purpose of this speech is to demonstrate (in the fashion of the lies being true) that garak wanted, and still wants safety. he wanted someone (Tain) to come to his defense then. while this extends to the implication that garak wanted tain, as his father, to stand up for him out of pride, or love, or even a perfunctory sense of parental commitment rather than exile him (a recurring desire illustrates/suggested in the show/books), i also think its perfectly suited to the care julian is exhibiting in tending to him in this episode. for all garak’s refusal to acknowledge his pain (a mere headache, as he claimed when they stood outside the replimat), for all his refusal to go to the infirmary when they meet at quark’s later, the care julian is constantly exhibiting through this episode is what garak is most endeared by. it is the thing he wanted most in his youth, and the thing now (because it was denied to him then) he finds so difficult to accept. there are many (many) instances throughout the show of garak and bashir talking about the extension of federation help/kindness, and this being something bashir embodies, btu this is one of the illustrations that sticks with me because of its particular placement. In the story, Garak wanted protection. He was alone, and afraid, and wanted help. As it now stands, he is not alone, he is calm, and has help. That is perhaps the most startling revelation for him of all.

and last but not least another... intriguing part of all garak’s stories is his repeated separation of himself and elim. the illusion of separation is one of the most intriguing (and heartbreaking) aspects of these story to me. garak has always struck me as the kind of character who sees grief and regret as an impetus for amputation. he believes what is unpleasant or unnecessary about him he can cut off and live through. he believes he can build up a wall between himself and what he doesn’t want to see or experience without repercussion (this being why he activated the implant in the first place). by making elim and himself two separate people he is not only distancing himself from whatever it was he really did, thus taking responsibility for it in part and allowing the other half of himself turn away in disgust and without sympathy, but suggesting that he cannot be culpable entirely for what it was he did. in each of his stories, the blame is to be shared, divided. the hardest part of all of this to swallow is that even after all this time, he’s begging for someone to spare him of the crushing loneliness of disgrace, begging for someone to understand fully what he’s done, accept him, and shoulder a part of his burden, much so that he creates an entirely new incarnation of himself just to sit with him in hell.

anyway ive also been fucking around on memory alpha and this was intriguing to me so im putting it here:

"When I was writing the story," stated Robert Hewitt Wolfe, "the movie Schindler's List had just come out and Ira was saying, 'Maybe he was Schindler; maybe he was the guy who let the prisoners go.' And then it was, 'Maybe he wasn't; maybe he was the Butcher of Budapest.' So we just kept telling all these lies, and I think the truth lies somewhere in there. Maybe he did let people go. Maybe he did shoot down the ship. Who knows?" (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Companion (p. 141))

#trek #elim garak #sorry for longposting but once again i am thinking about him (garak)#he's just such a fantastic character that i read SO MUCH into #its a shame they didnt do more w him really im upset he wasnt as cherished by fans when the show was in production as he obviously is now #also. reminds me why i have this url #he's deeply fascinating and i love him and hate him and sympathize with him and think hes unforgivable and i ....#ANYWAY i am not even going to talk about the . hand holding 'i forgive you... for whatever it is you did' thing because that opens a BREACH #this is one of the longest posts ive ever written on this god awful site #anyway it is from the heart #i love him so much and i love this episode.

121 notes · View notes

sigynpenniman · 5 years

Text

A Minor Injury - Garashir Fluff

Author note: I’ve been writing this weekend, this is what came out. Very early Garashir - think a couple days after Past Prologue. There’s not necessarily any canon support for Garak having any problems with doctors, but Garak definitely has some anxieties beyond just the claustrophobia. We don’t ever see him interact with any doctors who aren’t Julian, so I’m declaring “The ground is soft and I am ready to dig” with this one. Danny accuses me of projecting but...of course not. Me? Projecting? never. Also, watch as I learn how to use the read more feature, and keep the 15 mile long posts off everyone’s dashes!

You’re bleeding.

Garak looked down. A thin trickle of red liquid ran down the back of his hand. He winced as the cut began to sting. One slip with a cutter...

It’s fine. It’ll heal. You don’t need treatment. Minor injuries do not justify medical intervention. Keep working. Stop crying, Elim. Stop whining, Elim. Carry on with your work.

No. That is over. He’s not here to tell you what to do any more. Garak breathed and looked around his shop. This is your life now.

He looked at his hand again just in time to see the blood threatening to drip onto the pale fabric beneath. He grabbed a bit of fabric from the scrap pile and mopped the blood from the back of his hand.

It doesn’t matter what Tain would have told you. This is your decision. Does that need treatment? Garak processed the thought. It was a minor cut. Images flashed through his mind, memories the last time he needed medical treatment. A military doctor, leaning over him. It’s not that bad. You’ll live. This is going to hurt. He could still feel the nearly unbearable pain of the blade slicing into his skin, the sensation of the small chip of metal being removed, the burning, burning of the antiseptic.Do not show pain. Do not show fear. He could remember, as much shame as it carried, the feeling of a single tear biting at his eye. The sharp bite of a needle going through his skin as the doctor sutured the gaping wound in his thigh.

Garak centered himself again. No, this definitely does not need treatment. He did his best to get back to his work. By the time he pulled himself out of the memory, the blood was beginning to drip again. The fabric he was sewing on was blue, pale blue, and the red dripping down his hand threatened it. He would have to stay on top of it to keep it from damaging the fabric, but that was manageable. Stitch, cut, mop up the blood, stitch, cut, mop up the blood. He carried on this way for at least 15 minutes.

That really should have stopped bleeding by now. Garak night not have known much about medicine, but he knew that cuts were not supposed to bleed forever, and he couldn’t keep up with the dripping forever. He took a deep breath. This is not Cardassia, and this is not the occupation anymore. The doctors here are from the federation. It was time to take this to the infirmary, no matter how much he disliked the idea.

He carefully put down his tools, shut the shop, and stepped off in the direction of the infirmary. He was struck as soon as he stepped in by how different the room looked than he remembered. Everything was brighter and cleaner than it had ever been before. The air smelled of antiseptic. Antiseptic. He was sure he could feel the stinging in his thigh again. He could feel his heartbeat rising, rising-

“Excuse me, sir? Are you in need of treatment?”

The clear, high pitched voice of a young Bajoran woman spoke from his left. He turned to make eye contact with her and carefully prepared his words, so as not not to stutter.

“Yes, thank you. I seem to have cut my hand. It seems to be bleeding a bit more than it is supposed to.” The young Bajoran woman smiled and motioned for Garak to follow her.

“Doctor Bashir will be with you in just a moment” she said, her voice cheerful and bright. How can anyone in a hospital, a space of such pain, be so happy - wait, Bashir? The doctor. The handsome one. The one you met yesterday. Garak had forgotten. The young Bajoran woman led Garak over to an examination table and motioned him to sit on it. She turned and walked away from him, still smiling. Garak’s heart was racing, blood pressure rising. The room suddenly seemed small, smaller than he remembered. No, Elim, the walls are not closing in on you. He tried to distract himself from that particular panic by focusing on the other one. Prepare yourself for the pain. Do not show pain. Do not show anxiety. You are an agent - no, former agent, of the Obsidian Order. You do not know fear. Ha. If only that were true.

“Mister Garak!”

He’s more handsome than you remembered. Garak did his best to affect a smile.

“Just Garak. Plain, simple, Garak.” You’ve definitely said that before. “Hello Doctor.”

Julian nodded in deference. “Right. I remember you saying so. How can I help you today, plain, simple, Garak?” he asked. He’s smiling. He looks kind. No. That’s a lie. It’s always a lie with doctors. There are no kind doctors. The walls are closing in on you. Leave. Get out now.

“Thank you for your concern, Doctor, but I think this may have been a false alarm. I assure you, I am just fine. I think I’ll be going now, if you don’t mind.”

“Nice try, Garak. You came in here for a reason.” The doctor arranged his body between Garak and the door. “What was it?”

Run. He’s pushing too hard. He’s got intentions. Who knows what they are.

“I found our conversation the other day most interesting. I simply wanted to say hello.” Garak lied. Julian’s body language softened.

“It’s alright, Garak. You’re safe here.”

Do not show weakness.

“Of course I am, Doctor. Why would anyone suggest otherwise?”

A corner of the doctor’s mouth turned upwards. The expression was almost affectionate. “I can’t imagine who, Garak. So, since that’s established, do you want to tell me what brought you here?”

Fine. You win, Doctor.

“I seem to have injured my hand while cutting some fabric. I’m sure it would have been fine, only…it seems to continue to bleed, and I wouldn’t want to get blood on the fabric.”

“Of course not.” Julian added with a knowing nod.

Show him the hand. No. Show him the hand.

“Let’s see that hand.”

Garak hesitated. You’re going to have to show him the hand. Prepare for the pain.

Julian took a step closer to his patient. “It’s alright” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Garak lifted his hand hesitantly towards the Doctor. This is going to hurt. Garak held his breath, anticipating the discomfort, the feeling of a hand wrapped too tightly around his, the feeling of his joints creaking and aching under uncareful handling. The doctor wrapped his hand around Garak’s and drew it gently towards his face.

That’s different. Julian traced a finger along the edge of the wound, studying it intently. Garak took a deep, shaky breath. The doctor’s fingers were gentle against his skin. Garak’s stomach fluttered. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him so tenderly. He had prepared himself so intently, but there was no pain, no manhandled discomfort here – only a kind of physical kindness. It was a completely unfamiliar sensation. He raised his eyes to the doctor’s face. Julian’s expression was soft and focused. Garak was sure he was looking at the most beautiful man he had ever seen. The doctor turned the injured hand over in his and met his patient’s eyes.

“It’s only a minor cut,” he reassured. “The back of the hand is dense with blood vessels, so it tends to bleed more than you might expect. I’ll have you back to your sewing in no time.”

Garak nodded. He was unable to really speak. Julian rested the injured hand back in his patient’s lap. He turned to wall behind him and produced an unfamiliar instrument, and completely familiar rag. So much for a painless experience. Garak flinched. He had almost accepted the doctor’s kindness, but the memories kept flooding back into his mind. It burns. Please stop. Oh, shut up. Do you want to die of an infection? Julian lifted the injured hand again. He happened to wrap his fingers around it in such a way that they caught the pulse point on the inside of Garak’s wrist, and he paused when he realized his patient’s pulse was racing again.

“This all makes you rather anxious, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Anxious? Me? Never, Doctor.”

Julian raised an incredulous eyebrow and went to press the damp cloth against Garak’s hand. He felt his patient flinch, again. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated gently. Garak looked unconvinced.

“It’s just bacitracin, Garak. It’s not going to hurt. I promise.” Julian tenderly cleaned the dried blood from around the edges of the wound, and smiled a little as he felt Garak’s hand relaxing into his. “See?” he added, in a tone of “I told you so”. Content with the state of the wound, he lifted the unfamiliar instrument.

“It’s a dermal regenerator,” Julian answered the unspoken question, doing his best to keep his patient’s barely hidden fear at bay. “It won’t hurt either.”

You’re acting like a child. Garak watched the doctor pass the instrument, just as painlessly as he had promised, over the wound. The cut on his hand slowly disappeared. You’ve embarrassed yourself here, today. Good luck recovering from this.

“How’s that?” Julian asked with a smile, releasing Garak’s hand. Garak studied the skin on the back of his hand. It’s like you never even cut yourself. Impressive. He flexed the hand back and forth a bit, and nodded contently.

“Much better. Thank you, doctor. And I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for how I acted here today. It’s unforgivable.”

Julian’s expression softened again. He rested a hand on Garak’s shoulder.

“The Cardassian military didn’t produce particularly compassionate doctors, did it?”

“No, Doctor. It did not.”

Garak could feel the weight of the other man’s hand on his shoulder. It was a heavy, comforting reminder of a safe presence. Garak wasn’t used to feeling safe in anyone’s presence. It crossed his mind that he would prefer to be in this particular presence as much as possible.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Garak. Certainly not for being afraid. But I assure you, you will never have anything to fear from me.”

Garak’s heart flickered. The doctor was so handsome, and there was something about the kindness in his green eyes that made him irresistible. Oh wow, he has green eyes. Garak hadn’t fully noticed them before.

“Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been very kind to me.” Kinder than anyone has ever been before. Kinder than you can process.

“Everyone deserves a little kindness, Garak. No exceptions.”

You’re in love with him. Oh, You bet I am.

“I ought to thank you for your excellent care, Doctor. Would you, perhaps, allow me to take you to dinner?”

Julian smiled broadly. He looked as if he had been waiting for the question.

“I would love to, Mister Garak.”

Good job, Garak. Look what happens when you actually let people see what you’re feeling. He’s actually going to have dinner with you. Maybe more than once. Play your cards right, Garak. Maybe this is a presence you can keep close after all.

Aren’t you glad you decided to seek treatment for that hand?

#Julian Bashir #garak #elim garak #garashir #fanfic #Star Trek Fanfiction #Deep Space 9 #ds9 #deep space nine #star trek #fanfiction

129 notes · View notes

ussthunderquack · 5 years

Text

MCU characters in the “Star Trek” universe

I thought of making this post months ago. I hesitated, and still do, because some of these are very close to some original “Star Trek” characters that I’m cooking up for a personal “Star Trek” fanfic.

But then someone else made a post about an Avengers/”Star Trek” crossover, with a Vulcan Stephen Strange, that I found interesting. They said they were new to “Star Trek,” and I offered suggestions. They asked me to tag them when I post this, so here I tag: @ellisper this is partially for you. I am not telling anyone that they have to write their Avengers/”Star Trek” crossover this way; this is just my personal two-cents.

Steve Rogers: Thawed Augment from the Eugenics Wars

In “Star Trek” canon, the Eugenics Wars are a dark part of Earth’s history, set between present day, and the Utopian 23rd Century in which the main action of “Star Trek” is set. The famous “Star Trek” villain, Khan, comes from this time period. The Eugenics Wars occurred before Humans discovered Warp travel, or met any alien life. During this time, humanity experimented with genetic engineering, and created super-humans called Augments. Augments tended to be evil, due to superiority complexes. The most infamous was Khan, who, along with his crew of Augments, wound up cryogenically frozen, and thawed centuries later in Captain Kirk’s time. For a “Star Trek” version of Steve Rogers, this seems fitting. Naturally, Steve is one of the “good” Augments, who was fighting for equality, against Khan. Somehow, he wound up frozen like Khan’s crew, and thawed centuries later. Just like canon-Steve, this Augment Steve is from a past war that most Starfleet officers only know from history books; and his body and abilities come from a scientific experiment that was abandoned long, long ago.

Sam Wilson: Human pilot, from an off-world colony, scarred by the Dominion War

Sam would be one of the first people to welcome Steve Rogers to the 24th Century, and treat him like a regular person. His military experience and involvement in PTSD groups might be related to the Dominion War (which occurred during “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine,” and had a lasting effect on Starfleet and all of its allies, in “Next Generation” and “Voyager.”)

I feel like Sam would come from an off-world colony, maybe because he has a rougher edge to him, that an Earth-bred officer might lack. If I’m not mistaken, Sam also grew up in poverty, in MCU canon. (In “Star Trek,” Earth is a “paradise” in the 24th Century, with all poverty and prejudice eliminated; so human characters who come from bad places come from off-world, like Tasha Yar.)

Stephen Strange: Romulan turncoat, training with Vulcans

Vulcans and Romulans are evolutionary cousins. Sans the foreheads, the only significant difference is cultural. Vulcans tamed their volatile emotions centuries ago, with logic and discipline. Romulans embraced their darker tendencies, and are now more imperial. There is great animosity and distrust between the two sub-species. However, some Romulans respect the Vulcans, and seek to learn from them. (This is revealed in “Star Trek: the Next Generation.”)

The Stephen Strange we see in “Infinity War” might seem Vulcan-like. But if you watch his movie, “Dr. Strange,” he wasn’t always so. Pre-wizard Strange is like many of the Romulans you’ll see on “Star Trek:” a brilliant scientist, but very arrogant, with a volatile temper, and questionable ethics. For a “Star Trek” Dr. Strange, I postulate a Romulan scientist who suffers an injury and loses his ability to practice. He travels to Vulcan in the hopes of curing himself, and learns from one of the most powerful Vulcan telepaths. (Vulcans have far more experience with telepathy than Romulans, who for the most part, don’t seem to even have the ability.)

Naturally, a Vulcan/Romulan Strange would also rock that evil-Spock goatee. In short, Strange is a Romulan who converted to Vulcan-ism. His Romulan temperament still shines through his newfound Vulcan discipline, especially when he’s interacting with....

Tony Stark: Joined Trill

Here’s the one that made me hesitate, because of my “Star Trek” OC. But, here we go....

The Trill look like humans with spots on the sides of their faces, and kangaroo pouches in their tummies (for both males and females). Most of the Trill are pretty much just that. But one tenth of the Trill population is “joined” to a race of super-intelligent, immortal slugs, who live in said kangaroo pouches. Once joined, the slug--called a Symbiont--and the “host” Trill---both have their minds merged into one being. It is very important that a Trill and Symbiont are well matched before joining, or else insanity could result.

A joined Trill will replace his or her last name with the name of the symbiont. (Ezri Tigan is joined to the Dax symbiont, and changes here name to Ezri Dax.) A host will have all of the memories of the Symbiont’s past hosts, which can lead to some confusion and identity crisis. Since Tony Stark is a character marked entirely by conflict and dualities, I can’t see him being anything but a joined Trill. The Stark symbiont is the genius engineer, and the Tony host is the playboy manchild.

Since Tony’s character is heavily driven by his past (daddy issues, guilt, etc) that could also translate into memories of past-hosts. Maybe the crimes Trill-Tony blames himself for weren’t his at all, but a past host of the Stark symbiont.

On my “Star Trek” OC, Nuvo Auz: He is not exactly a carbon copy of Tony Stark, but he’s close enough to this “Trill Tony Stark” described that I hesitated to share. But oh well. It’s fan fiction, so it’s not like originality is a major issue here.

James Rhodes: Another joined Trill, who has been friends with Stark for several “hosts”

There is now a reason Rhodey changed appearances so abruptly and completely; he changed hosts! The Rhodey on the left sadly died during a mission where he was unfortunate enough to be wearing red, but the Stark and Rhodey symbionts were inseparable, even though various hosts. The plotline of Rhodey breaking his back might also be replaced by Rhodey losing another host altogether. That would really motivate Tony, if his best friend really did partially-die, during one of their battles.

The Trill do have laws against “re-association” with past-hosts’ families and spouses, but friendships seem to be except from this rule, as Captain Sisko is friends with Dax through three hosts (Kurzon Dax, Jadzia Dax and Ezri Dax).

Pepper Potts: Unjoined Trill Telepath

As mentioned above, most Trill are not joined. Among the unjoined Trill, a small percentage are telepathic. These telepathic Trill cannot be joined, but are important in helping with those who are. Trill telepaths guard the unjoined symbionts in their cave-lakes, and also use their telepathy to perform Trill rituals that allow a joined Trill to talk more directly with his or her past hosts.

Trill telepathy is not elaborated on in canon, so this AU has a lot of freedom in terms of what Pepper can do with her telepathy.

Pepper is the only Trill telepath who could deal with the insanity that is Tony Stark, and has been by his side for years. Her telepathy gives her sharp intuition, and she is the first to discover that Stane is betraying Tony, when she quickly reads Stane’s mind when he isn’t looking. She can sense when Tony’s in danger, and communicate with him mentally from afar.

She hates how reckless joined Trill like Tony are, since they feel immortal. She reminds him he is not immortal; his memories may be, but there will only ever be one Tony Stark, and she doesn’t want to lose him.

Morgan Stark: Get some tissues....

Tony, being Tony, goes against the Symbiosis Commissions rules about joining, and leaves his symbiont Stark to his daughter after his death. Morgan inherits the symbiont, and with it, all her father’s memories. She constantly hears him tell her, “I love you 3000.”

Mantis: Aenar/Betazoid Hybrid

The Aenar are evolutionary cousins of Andorians (those blue guys with the antennae). The Aenar, unlike Andorians, have very powerful telepathic abilities, and live in seclusion.

Betazoids look identical to humans, except for their solid black eyes. Betazoids, as well, have a wide range of mental powers. Most are some degree of telepaths, but how powerful they are depends on the individual. Counselor Deanna Troi, who is half-Betazoid and half-Human, cannot read minds like most full-Betazoids, but she is an “empath,” and can sense emotions from other people.

Mantis’s black eyes and empathic powers scream of Betazoid to me. But naturally her antennae and sheltered nature also scream of Aenar. I think an Aenar/Betazoid hybrid makes the most sense for her, personally.

Natasha Romanof: Low-telepath Betazoid, or Betazoid/Human Hybrid

Betazoid women are stereotyped for their alluring, seductive natures. Natasha Romanov uses seduction, along with her sharp intuition, in her job as a spy. She clearly cannot read or affect others’ minds the way Mantis or Wanda Maximoff can, but Nat’s ability to read other people would make sense for a part-Betazoid, or a Bertazoid on the low-end of the telepathy spectrum.

Clint Barton: Human, or Bajoran

Bajorans are basically humans with wrinkly noses, and their whole planet seemingly follows one religion. All in all, not “Star Trek’s” best concept for an alien race.

I was originally going to dismiss Clint as a boring Human, but he could just as easily be Bajoran. Bajorans have a history of guerrilla fighting Cardassian oppressors, and while it’s never stated in canon, I’ve always gotten the impression that Bajorans were more nimble and stealthy than humans. After recently winning their home planet back from the Cardassians, Bajorans are trying to rebuild their lives and families. Many are farmers. This all seems fitting enough for Clint. Otherwise, Clint might simply be the token boring Human onboard. Like Miles O’Brian of DS9, Clint is the family man in the group, and...not much else. He could even relate to Miles over having a relatively mundane-seeming job compared to the other characters (Miles sat at the transporter controls when on the Enterprise, and is the subject of much ridicule in the fandom for this.)

Thor: Klingon, son of the current emperor

If you’re new to “Star Trek,” you might be thinking, “No way, pretty Thor, one of those ugly lizard things from ‘Star Trek: Discovery’ and the recent movies?” Well I’m thinking more of the Picard-era Klingons for this one. Yes, Klingons are warriors--and specifically, they are largely based on stereotypes of Vikings--but not all Klingon characters are vicious monsters. Many are jolly and full of honor, and love to drink mugs of bloodwine while telling exaggerated tales of their glorious battles. Picturing Thor, and all of his Asgardian friends, as Klingons, each with their own unique Klingon forheads, armor and weapons, is just too great.

Loki: Changeling orphan raised by Klingons, who later allies with the Dominion

Introduced on “Deep Space Nine,” the Founders, AKA “Changelings,” are a species from the other side of the galaxy. Their true form is silver syrup, but with practice, they can take any form, depending on how skilled and experienced they are. The Founders are rulers of the Dominion, a sort of evil counterpart to the Federeation. Their subject species worship them as gods, and the Founders hope for galactic domination.

To gain more information on the rest of the galaxy, the Founders often send baby Changelings out into the universe, to grow up among alien species, so they can come back and share their experiences with the rest of the Great Link (the sea of silver jelly that makes up the Founder homeworld). Unfortunately, the Founders don’t seem to plan this very well, as they give the baby Changelings no way of knowing where they’re from, why they were sent away, or what they’re supposed to do. Odo, a main character on “Deep Space Nine,” grew up an orphan and the only one of his species, having no clue of his origins.

Now if this isn’t all Loki in a nutshell, I don’t know what is.

Emperor Odin found the baby Changeling, and taught him to take a Klingon form. Loki grew up very bitter about not knowing his origins. When he did finally learn of the Founders, he was eager to return to the Great Link and prove himself, and became one of the Dominion’s highest agents. Loki was far more skilled at shape-shifting than Odo (as many Founders were), and could take any form with ease.

He tried to take over the Klingon Empire by impersonating his father; he led a Dominion Army to try to conquer Earth; and in the end, he switched sides and died trying to save his brother and the Klingon Empire....or did he?

Bruce Banner: Human/Klingon hybrid (either natural or artificial)

There are several part-Klingons in “Star Trek” canon. One of them, B’Elanna Torres ( “Star Trek: Voyager”) is a brilliant engineer, who is constantly frustrated by her Klingon temper interfering with her work. Bruce Banner could just as easily be in the exact same boat as her, though his personality would be different than hers. (B’Elanna often combats her rage with sarcasm, and has a lot in common with Tony Stark in that regard.)

B’Elanna is a born hybrid--one human parent, one Klingon parent. There are others, however, who are “artificial hybrids;” a person born one species, who, through some genetic engineering or mistake, ends up with traits of the other species fused into them. Klingons experimented with genetic engineering on themselves to try and disguise as Humans, to infiltrate Star Fleet. (This was a retcon in “Enterprise,” to explain why the Klingons in the Original “Star Trek” look so Human, and nothing like the Klingons of TNG-onward. A Klingon-engineered-to-look-human also appears on “Discovery.”)

Bruce Banner could just be a born hybrid like B’Elanna... but if one wants to tie in his MCU backstory into this “Star Trek” AU, it may make sense to go the “military genetic experiment gone wrong” route. Admiral Ross (no “generals” in Starfleet, don’t ask me why) may have ordered Bruce to test this method of disguising humans as Klingons on himself, and it went horribly wrong.

King T’Challa: Human, from a separate colony that still practices genetic engineering

In “Star Trek,” it is not uncommon for members of one specific ethnic group to build a colony on an alien planet, based entirely around that one culture. (Or stereotypes of it. “Star Trek” is kind of clumsy with how it handles real life cultures, unfortunately.) There’s a colony of Scottish people, where Dr. Crusher’s nanna lives. Commander Chakotay’s culture was a tribe of Native Americans who left Earth and set up a colony on another planet to preserve their culture.

Wakanda could just as easily be the same case. In addition to preserving their culture, the Wakandans might also have left Earth so that they could continue using genetic engineering, a practice that Starfleet has banned (after the Eugenics Wars). In the Wakanda Colony, genetic manipulation is handled very carefully, and only the ruling king becomes a full-on Augment.

Gamora: Orion pirate

Orions are a green-skinned race, known to be pirates and slave traders. Orion women emit pheromones that seduce males of other species, though it’s unclear if this always true, or how much control they have over it. Trekkies tend to think of Orion women as scantily dressed slave dancers, but latter “Star Trek” incarnations have female Orions in other roles, often as badass pirate traders and leaders, and sometimes even Starfleet officers. They do have a tendency to wear kinky black leather though, and the last Orion woman we saw on “Star Trek: Discovery” was a dead-ringer for Gamora!

Bucky Barnes: Liberated Borg Drone

The Borg are the single greatest villains in “Star Trek,” and are every bit to “Star Trek” what Hydra is to the Avengers. The Borg are a race of half-machine cyborg people, whose minds are all enslaved to one collective Hive Mind. Their goal is to assimilate the entire galaxy. On “Star Trek,” we’ve met several characters who were assimilated by the Borg, but later escaped, and struggled to reclaim their humanity. It happened once to Captain Picard; he was assimilated, and forced to wipe out an entire Federation fleet, under the influence of the Borg, before he was rescued by the Enterprise. On “Voyager,” Seven of Nine--formerly Annika Hanson--was assimilated with here parents at age 6, and wasn’t rescued until 18 years later. She spends four years on the show regaining her humanity, wrestling with the guilt, and coping with the trauma.

Borg-Bucky can tie into Trill-Tony this way. Perhaps a previous Stark host was assimilated along with his entire family by Borg-Bucky, and somehow, the Stark symbiont was rescued and able to move into a new host. Since this is "Star Trek,” it’s also perfectly believable for that massive plot line to get abruptly dropped and never mentioned again. (Sorry, I’m still salty about that...)

Wanda Maximoff: Ocampa, from Suspiria’s Array

This is another one from “Star Trek: Voyager.” The Ocampa are a race of telepaths, but how powerful they are depends on which sect they come from. Centuries ago, another race called Caretakers (a race of super-intelligent blobs) accidentally turned the Ocampan home-world into a desert. One Caretaker kept a bunch of Ocampans underground on their dead homeworld, and provided for them. Being dependent for so many generations caused their powers to weaken, until basic telepathic conversation was all they could do. But the other Caretaker, named Suspiria, took a few Ocampa lightyears away to live on a space station, where she encouraged them to exercise their powers to the max. Their abilities included telekenesis, and inducing spontaneous combustion in plants. These Ocampa were more sinister than the other kind. I think this would be as good a backstory as any for MCU-Wanda Maximoff. After nearly destroying the ship, she switches sides, and tries to tame her incredible mind powers, and only use them for good.

Also, Ocampans only live 9 or 10 years, and are fully grown by age 2. This could explain some of the confusion surrounding Wanda’s age, with characters treating her like a kid one minute, and a soldier to bring into battle the next. This is another one that’s vaguely similar to one of my OCs, though my Ocampa character is almost nothing at all like Wanda. But, she is an Ocampa from Suspiria’s array.

Ava Starr: Human mutated by a freak transporter accident

There’s an episode of “Star Trek: the Next Generation” where Lt. LaForge and Ensign Ro get into a transporter accident that essentially turns them into ghosts. Here, something similar happened to poor Ava Star, but she could sometimes maintain solid form, and was visible to others, even when phasing.

Her father was attempting to open a gateway to either the Mirror Universe or Fluidic Space, or some such other dimension, and it literally blew up in his face. He and Ava’s mom died, and they were the lucky ones.

Ava was then taken advantage of by Section 31 (basically the Federation’s CIA), and used for classified missions. And now she is just so done with everything and everyone, and just wants a cure.

Hank Pym: Eccentric scientist who rejects Starfleet

There are quite a few of these in the world of “Star Trek” (Data’s creator, Seven of Nine’s parents). Some scientists just think Starfleet is too controlling, or corrupt, or they just hate people, or the writers just want an easy way for a scientist to be up to something Starfleet doesn’t know about.

Hank Pym was a prominent Starfleet scientist, until Howard Stark tried to steal his research. Pym quit Starfleet, and tried to find a place to settle to continue his research undisturbed. But his ship crashed on an alien planet. He almost died in the alien wilderness, until the planet’s dominant species--a race of super-intelligent insecticides--took him in and adopted him into their colony.

Pym now trusts neither Starfleet nor “Starks,” regardless of who the current Stark host is. The only ones he trusts are his faithful companions and minions, the ants.

Hope Van Dyne: Pym’s estranged, half-Vulcan daughter, who works for Starfleet

Unlike Spock, she doesn’t try to mask her emotions and be entirely “Vulcan.” But she does practice lots of Vulcan control and sardonicism, to deal with her resentment towards her father for her mother’s (supposed) death.

Janet Van Dyne: Pym’s Vulcan wife, thought killed in a space anomaly, but actually stranded in Fluidic Space

Fluidic Space is another dimension, where Species 8472 live (from “Star Trek: Voyager”)

Scott Lang: Lower-decks crewman who everyone thinks is gonna die a redshirt’s death, but turns out to be a badass

And because he’s a dopey human who makes funny quips and is the butt of endless jokes, he will end up with the half-Vulcan woman who can’t stand him.

Peter Quill: Human, from the 20th Century

Time travel is rampant in “Star Trek,” so Peter Quill’s character can stay pretty much exactly the same as he is in MCU-canon.

Nebula: Bolian, ex-Borg Drone

Bolians are bald blue people, and.....that’s about all we know about them. Well, they supposedly are also all motor-mouths, but you know, stereotypes. Anyway, being assimilated would make even the chattiest person turn pretty antisocial.

Her eye-implant is also a LOT like Seven of Nine’s.

Carol Danvers: Human-Q hybrid, Starfleet pilot

The Q are among the most powerful beings in the Universe, as well as some of the most sinister. The main Q character we know on “Star Trek: the Next Generation” and “Voyager” has dealt at least twice with young Qs, who he was rearing with questionable methods. In the TNG episode “True Q,” Q mentors young Amanda Rogers (an orphaned Q raised by humans), in a way that is very reminiscent of Yon Rogg’s mentoring of Vers. Is it possible for Q to reproduce with non-Q? Who knows, but since the Q seem capable of damn near anything, I don’t see why not. Though, if we’re keeping things close to MCU canon, then Carol may have been born a regular human, and only became part-Q after a bizarre accident. In any case, she is no longer with the Q Continuum, and now fights for justice independently, or with Starfleet.

Peter Parker: Kid genius, except likable. The Anti-Wesley.

During “Infinity War,” my friend said Peter reminded her of Wesley, and I said, “Never say that again, or I’ll beam you into a black hole.” Anyway, Peter would be a kid-genius serving on a ship like Wesley (but likable), and like Reg Barclay, would end up becoming part spider, due to one of the many bizarre anomalies the ship runs into every week.

If canon-Peter was enamored with Iron Man, just picture this Peter’s excitmenent upon learning that the chief engineer is a joined Trill, who has lived multiple life times, and all of the inappropriate questions he’d pester Tony with, like, “What’s it like to die? What’s it like to die three times? Were any of your deaths really badass? Like, did you ever go out blowing up a Borg cube or get blown into space or something?”

“This is why some species eat their young.”

Friday: Hologram

In “Star Trek,” holograms--by the 24th Century anyway--look and even feel like solid, real people. Which begs some very disturbing questions about the fact that they’re created as basically slave labor. But Tony at least would never treat any of his holograms like mindless appliances to toss away, and if any of them wanted to leave he wouldn’t stop them.

Anyway, Friday is a hologram he programed after Jarvis was integrated into Vision. And she is a badass.

Vision: Soon-type android, with a hologram and alien technology mixed in

Kinda self-explanatory, not sure what else needs to be said.

Thaddeus Ross: insane admiral

Alongside doomed redshirts and and promiscuous male commanding officers, the evil insane admiral is one of “Star Trek’s” oldest and most treasured traditions. It does get to be a bit concerning after a while, that there are so many insane admirals in the Federation. Some fans theorize that Starfleet promotes bad captains to admirals to keep them off starships, figuring the occasional crazy admiral grabbing at galactic domination is better than a crazy incompetent captain every week. Whatever the reason, insane megalomaniac admirals plague Starfleet.

Thaddeus Ross is one such admiral. Previously leader of a fleet of starships, he was promoted to an even higher brand of admiral after the fiasco with Bruce Banner. Unfortunately, it turned out that giving this twit even more power was, shockingly, a bad idea.

If I think of more, I may update this. But I think these are the main ones I have AU ideas for.

233 notes · View notes

voyagerafod · 7 years

Text

Star Trek Voyager: A Fire of Devotion: Part 3 of 4: Sweeter Than Heaven: Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it,” Samantha Wildman said to Seven of Nine. “I’m just saying that maybe you should try talking to her yourself before going to the Captain.”

Seven of Nine raised an eyebrow. “The Captain asked me to oversee this year’s annual performance reviews. I do not see why I should give a less than accurate report.”

“Let me try this again,” Sam said. “I know Celes is a bit of a, well, she’s…” Sam struggled to find a nice way to convey her point. It wasn’t that she disliked Crewman Tal Celes. She actually found the young Bajoran quite friendly, despite her shyness; a shyness that had only gotten worse in recent years. “She is the most error prone officer on board,” Seven said. “Her work in astrometrics always needs to be double-checked.” “I know that,” Sam said. “Believe me, I know, she did a rotation in the lab before you came on board and... don’t even get me started. My point is though, what exactly can be gained by relieving her of duty? It’s not like she can just hop on the next shuttle back to Bajor. Isn’t there something she might be good at? You could just have the Captain transfer her.” “Where?” Seven said. “The problem is obviously not her skills, at least not based on what I saw in her academy records. The problem would seem to be that she has failed to adapt to Voyager’s situation.” “Probably,” Sam said. “Still don’t see what relieving her of duty would do. Again, she doesn’t exactly have any place else to go.” “Perhaps she could aid Neelix in the kitchen,” Seven said. Sam didn’t think that was necessarily a bad idea, but she was skeptical it would work. She couldn’t think of a reason not to try it though, and she was about to tell Seven just that when the room’s comm system chirped. “Janeway to Seven of Nine,” the Captain said. “Yes, Captain?” Seven said. “Do you have the reports I requested ready?” “I do,” Seven said. “Shall I forward them to your ready room?” “Go ahead and bring them personally,” Janeway said. “And bring Samantha with you. I have something I’d like to discuss with her.”

Had Janeway’s tone not been fairly jovial, Sam might’ve been worried about being summoned to meet with the Captain. With the exceptions of promotions, one on ones with the Captain were rarely about anything good, and Sam had never put in for a promotion her entire career. “On our way, Captain,” Sam said. The comm closed, and Sam bit her lower lip. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” “Because you’ve developed something of a fatalistic attitude in recent years?” Seven suggested. “Honey, remember that conversation we had about tact?”

---

“We’ll be passing through a class-T cluster in the next couple of days,” Captain Janeway said to Seven and Samantha as the two stood across from her in her ready room, “It’s not important enough to alter course, but I think it’s at least important enough to send out the Delta Flyer to get a full range of scans.” “I assume that’s why I’m still here, Captain?” Seven said. “You do have my report.” “A reasonable assumption,” Janeway said, “but an incorrect one.” Janeway stood up, and moved around to the front of her desk, and leaned back, arms crossed. “I’m piloting the Flyer for this mission, and I’m planning on taking a few crew members with me who I think could use some special attention.” “Oh no,” Sam muttered. “Samantha,” Janeway said, “you can’t stay on the ship forever. Sooner or later a time’s going to come when you need to leave, be it for good or bad reasons. You weren’t planning on staying on board once we got back to the Alpha Quadrant were you?” “Well, no, but…” “So the sooner we deal with this newfound phobia of yours the better,” Janeway said. “Captain,” Seven said, “while I personally agree that Samantha should not be afraid to go on away missions, especially those that would allow her to continue practicing her field of xenobiology, I’m not sure ordering her to go on a Delta Flyer mission is the wisest course of action.” Samantha nodded vigorously. Captain Janeway understood why, considering how badly her first and so far only mission in the Flyer had gone. But in the almost year and a half since then, Voyager had come across so many planets with some astonishing alien fauna, the very thing that Ensign Wildman had joined Starfleet to study in the first place, and she had passed on the chance to see every single one of them. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to pull rank this time, Ensign. You and two other crew members yet to be determined will join me on the Flyer at 1300 hours.” Sam looked like she wanted to protest, but instead simply nodded. Janeway couldn’t help but notice that her hands were shaking at her sides. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?” Seven said. “When have you ever not?” Janeway said, smiling. “I think this is ill-advised,” Seven said. “If this were a planetary mission I might be willing to assist in encouraging Sam to go along, but the data astrometrics has on the cluster you are ordering her to go into is incomplete. If I can’t dissuade you from following through on this order, at least allow me to go with her.” “Request denied,” Janeway said to Seven. To Samantha she said, “Sam, this is an order, but I want you to know that if after the mission is over, you still want to be kept off the away mission roster, I’ll honor that. I just feel you’ve let a few bad experiences cloud your judgment. While it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, well more than half our away missions are uneventful, and of the ones that aren’t we know going in the situation will be difficult and we plan accordingly. And I would never send you on one of those kinds of missions under any circumstance. You’re a biologist, not a security officer.” Sam looked at Seven.

“If you don’t want to go, Sammy, I can talk to Chakotay, maybe convince him to-” “No, it’s okay, Annie,” Sam said, eyes closed, and visibly nervous. “I’ll do this. I can do this. There aren’t any plasma storms nearby are there?” “No,” Seven said.

Sam stood at attention, took a deep breath, and looked Janeway in the eye. “I’ll be ready by 1300 hours, Captain,” she said. Janeway smiled. “See you then. Dismissed.”

---

Chakotay wondered to himself how many ways he could tell the Captain that one of the three crew members she’d chosen for the mission was a mistake without outright committing insubordination. He settled instead for saying “Are you sure?” for the third time in almost as many minutes.

“I understand your concerns,” Captain Janeway said. “But if we don’t get Tassoni more integrated into the crew soon he’s going to become a problem.”

“He does his job, but only to the bare minimum. He follows orders, but in the most passive-aggressive fashion possible. He refuses to even try to interact with the rest of the crew, including his former shipmates. If you insist on taking someone from the Equinox with you on this mission, why not one of the others?”

“The others are at least trying, to varying degrees of success. Tassoni acts like we’re going to kick him off the ship any day now so ‘why bother.’ I want to make it clear to him that there can be a place for him on this crew.” Chakotay shook his head. “And if he doesn’t want to be?” Janeway sighed, and shrugged. Chakotay figured that she didn’t really have a good answer to that question. “If I can’t talk you out of this,” he said, “I at least insist you keep a phaser on you, just in case.” Janeway chuckled. “I appreciate the concern, but Tassoni has shown no inclination towards violence since coming aboard.”

“I know that,” Chakotay said, “but better safe than sorry.” “We’ll be fine with the phasers that are stocked on the Flyer normally,” Janeway said. “I doubt we’ll need them giving where we’re going but as you say, better safe than sorry.” Chakotay simply nodded. He didn’t like it, but he had backed his Captain on more questionable decisions than this in the past. If he had truly felt that she was needlessly endangering herself and others, he’d push back. He’d done it before, and despite how ugly that had gotten, they still respected each other after it was over.

“Well,” he said, “have fun.” “I intend to,” Janeway said.

---

“I have to admit, Brian,” Marla Gilmore said to Brian Sofin, the two of them sitting in a corner of the mess hall having lunch, “I figured it would bother you that Angelo got to go on an away mission before you did.” “No, it’s okay,” Sofin said. “It still amazes me sometimes how few people will give me a dirty look anymore. Is less than a year all it really takes to get over someone stealing a key piece of technology from you and leaving you to die?” “I think that a lot of it has to do with the fact that the man who ordered us to do that is dead,” Marla said. “But yeah, I get the feeling. Sometimes when I’m in engineering, it feels like people are treating me like I’ve always been part of the team.” She sipped her tea, glanced at the various other crew members chatting and enjoying their meals, while Neelix stirred something in one of his massive pots. “Marla? You still with us?” Sofin said. “Yeah, just thinking. On the one hand, I look at these people and think that they never would’ve done what we did. On the other…”

“They had it a lot easier than us,” Sofin said. “Easy being relative of course. Most of this ship’s senior staff were dead before they even knew what hit them. And we didn’t have to deal with a Cardassian spy or Betazoid serial killer.” Marla rolled her eyes. “I think I’d take both of those things times two before dealing with the Ankari spirits of good fortune again.” Sofin shrugged. “Yeah, fair point.” “Have you talked to Angelo at all? Since Ransom died I mean.” “Only once. He didn’t say it directly, but I think that he thinks you, me, and James betrayed the Captain; sold him out.” “You told him that Captain Ransom helped save us, right? That Burke was the one who got the rest of our shipmates killed?”

“I did. So did James.” Sofin finished the last of his food. “I hope getting to go on an away mission again will snap him out of it. He was a good officer back before we started killing those aliens for fuel. Maybe he can be again. I’d certainly feel better about him being in security.”

“How does that work, by the way?” Marla said. “How can he be on the security team if he isn’t allowed to have a phaser yet?”

“You’d have to ask someone else,” Sofin said. “I don’t really get to talk to the security people.”

---

Captain Janeway flew the Delta Flyer away from Voyager, her three charges situated behind her. She had put Angelo at the tactical station despite the unlikeliness of needing to use the ship’s weapons. Samantha took the seat behind him, refusing the one directly behind Janeway at the helm. She explained that it had been the chair she was in when the Flyer had crashed last year, so Janeway didn’t argue. Tal Celes took that seat instead, monitoring the sensors, and glad to do so as the young Bajoran was convinced that was one of the few things she was good at.

As soon as the Flyer went into warp, Janeway began the mission briefing. “Once we reach the cluster,” she said, “we’ll drop out of warp and maintain one-quarter impulse on the sweep through the protostars. Celes, you’re going to be running an ongoing sensor analysis. Samantha, you’ll be looking at subspace particle decay for anything new we might learn about star formation. I know that’s not your field, but I can assist you along the way. Mister Tassoni, your job will be to look for signs of life, a long shot in this environment, but it’s something to do.” “Captain,” Tassoni said, keeping his voice polite, but still rolling his eyes, “I know it’s not my field either, but I do know enough about these types of clusters that if we find any planets at all they’ll be gas giants.”

“They could have moons,” Samantha said. “Captain, I have to ask again why you insisted on bringing me along. Haven’t my former friends done more to earn this opportunity than I have?” “Former?” Janeway said. She’d heard of course, on several occasions, that Tassoni was never seen interacting with the other Equinox survivors, but this detail was news to her.

“They don’t appreciate what Captain Ransom did for us, the sacrifices he was willing to make, even his own conscience, to save us. They think they have to apologize for doing what we needed to to survive. I won’t.” The cabin of the Flyer got uncomfortably quiet. Janeway could see Samantha’s left hand from the helm chair and saw that it was clenching and unclenching. Celes looked like she wished she could melt into the bulkhead and not have to listen to any of this.

“I’m not here to rehash arguments about what Captain Ransom did,” Janeway said. “I’m here to see if you can function as part of a team without being rude to your teammates. I can see we’re off to a bad start, but let’s call this a dry run and start over. Mister Tassoni, your job will be to look for signs of life in the cluster.” Tassoni narrowed his eyes briefly, but nodded. “Aye, Captain.”

Janeway turned back around to keep an eye on the helm console. Tassoni was right about one thing, there was no point in trying to change his mind. He truly felt that under the circumstances, Ransom did the right thing. She disagreed, but while there would be a time and place to address the larger issues of that incident, it wasn’t now. Not while they all had to live together. A Federation inquiry once they all got back to the Alpha Quadrant would decide ultimately what to do, if anything, with the Equinox survivors. Her job was simply to keep them alive and make sure they did their jobs. So far, at least as far as she was concerned, that was mostly working. Angelo Tassoni though would have to learn to dial back his attitude, and with any luck, this mission would help make that happen.

---

Samantha found herself about to drift off. She didn’t usually get tired on away missions, but she had failed to get a full night’s rest before she had to leave. Seven of Nine had been very supportive of her, even providing her with a thermos of Sam’s favorite flavor tea before leaving, but no amount of coddling from her wife was going to make this any easier. She was tired and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Which it seemed to almost immediately, as mere seconds after dropping out of warp the Delta Flyer shook. Samantha gripped the edge of the console so hard her hands hurt. “Engine status?” Captain Janeway said.

“Within parameters,” Tal Celes said.

“Anything on sensors?”

Sam took a deep breath, let go of the edge of the console, and began manipulating the controls. “Uh, nothing. Might’ve just been a hiccup with the impulse drive.” “Not unheard of,” Janeway said, “but rare. I’m going to take a look at it. In the meantime, I think we’re due for lunch. Celes, head below and see what Neelix packed for us.”

“Aye, Captain,” Celes said. Sam had to admit, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard the young Bajoran sound so confident. She seemed to like it out here. Perhaps, she thought, when we get back she can transfer to a smaller ship. Some people just prefer tighter spaces.

A console near Janeway beeped, and she looked at it. “Sam, can you identify the source of that spatial fluctuation?” “What fluc-” Sam’s request for additional information was violently interrupted by the Delta Flyer shaking hard enough to nearly send her to the floor. Not again, not again, she thought. The stars out side became swirls, a sign that the Flyer was spinning wildly, only the inertial dampeners keeping the four people inside from being pinned to the bulkhead.

The Captain, struggling with the controls the whole time, finally managed to get the ship stabilized. “What the hell was that?” Tassoni said, checking his monitors. “Were we attacked?” “I don’t know,” Janeway said. “We need to get propulsion back on line first, then we can figure out what hit us.” “I can’t see anything on sensors,” Sam said. “Same here,” Celes said. “But whatever hit us tore a section of plating off the outer hull. Ninety percent of our anti-matter has been neutralized. The reaction’s cold. So much for warp drive.” “Impulse engines are still operational, but they’ve been damaged,” Janeway said. “We won’t be able to go faster than 1/8th impulse. We’ll have to call Voyager to come pick us up. Is the subspace transmitter working?” “Affirmative,” Tassoni said. “Delta Flyer to Voyager,” Janeway said, “we’ve been hit by an unknown phenomenon and have taken heavy damage. We require assistance.” Janeway hit a button. “Transmit that message continuously on all subspace frequencies,” she said to Samantha.

“I think I know what got us,” Celes said, “A dark matter protocomet.”

“A what?” Sam said, knowing what dark matter and comets were, but having never heard of one of the latter made out of the former. “I read a paper on those once,” Janeway said. “If I remember right, the theory was anything like that would be attracted to any source of antimatter and neutralize it upon contact. Are you sure that’s what hit us, Celes?” “Mostly,” Celes said, her more normal shy personality reasserting itself. “I went to the academy with the guy who wrote that paper. I remembered him talking about it, otherwise I would’ve never thought to look. I know it’s not something to normally look for but…” “But if you’re right, we may have evidence that will make your former classmate very happy,” Janeway said, smiling. “Good thinking.”

Sam smiled herself, despite the situation. While she longed to be back on Voyager with her family, she took some small comfort in finally seeing a crewmate who had fallen behind her peers have the chance to step things up. She also couldn’t help but note that Angelo Tassoni had gotten far more professional once things started to go bad.

Perhaps some good will come out of this mess after all, Sam thought. I just wish I wasn’t here to see it.

“Should we eject our remaining antimatter?” Tassoni said. “If it attracts these protocomets we might get hit again.”

“Not yet,” Janeway said. “We may still have a chance to get the warp drive back on-line.” “We may not survive another hit,” Celes said. “Ma’am,” she added quickly. If the Captain was offended by her speaking out of turn she gave no sign of it.” “A few more minutes,” Janeway said. “Understood,” Celes said. “Also, Captain, if it’s alright, we should bring the damaged hull plating aboard. It’s only ten kilometers away. Impact from a dark matter body might’ve left something valuable on it that could help us detect any further such bodies. If we can get a decent warning if another protocomet approaches…”

“We can dump the antimatter we have left and save the ship,” Janeway said. “Good thinking, Crewman. Do we have transporters?” “Yes,” Tassoni said. “I’ve already found the plate, and am locking on right now.”

“Good,” Janeway said. “Beam it to the aft section. Celes, come with me. Sam, Angelo, continue repairs.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tassoni said. “On it, Captain,” Samantha said. Once Celes and Janeway exited the cabin, Sam let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her eyes. “Figures,” she muttered under her breath. “What was that, Ensign?” Tassoni said. “I’m saying it figures. I didn’t want to leave the ship because the last several times I have, something had gone wrong. And what happened to us today?” “That sounds like an incredible run of bad luck,” Tassoni said, not sounding as sympathetic in tone as the words implied. “Not that I would know, most of my bad days were on a ship.” “I didn’t mean to-” “Offend me? No, I know,” Tassoni said. “I’m just trying to say that I understand how you feel.” “That’s a bit of an understatement,” Samantha said. “Annie told me what a mess the Equinox was when we found you.” “Annie?” Tassoni said. “Oh, sorry. I thought you knew that Seven of Nine’s birthname was Annika.” “No,” Tassoni said. “I knew that she still went by her Borg designation, but I’d figured she just didn’t remember her name.” “No. For the record though, she only lets me call her that so…” “Understood,” Tassoni said.

---

Captain Janeway ran her tricorder over the hull fragment now lying on the floor. Once she was done scanning the entire chunk of metal, she handed it off to Tal Celes. “Download this into the main computer,” she said, now looking at the debris. “It looks like it was sheared off rather than blown off.”

Celes began working at a console near the back of the room, looking tense. “Everything alright, Crewman?” “Fine, Captain. It’s just… I’m sorry I spoke out of turn earlier, about the antimatter.” “It was a valid point,” Janeway said. “I guess so,” Celes said. “You doubt yourself too much, Crewman,” Janeway said. “I should. And you should too. My work always needs to be double-checked, as I’m sure you’ve been told before. I imagine I’d have been kicked out of astrometrics a long time ago, but I think being married has softened Seven of Nine a little bit.”

“We all make mistakes,” Janeway said. “Even me,” she added, several of the ones she considered her biggest coming to the forefront of her mind, threatening to distract her.

“Every day? Every time you report for your shift? On Voyager, it doesn’t matter because nothing I do is that critical. Seven doesn’t trust me with anything important. The crew is protected from my mistakes there, but out here I could get us killed.” “The reason we know what hit us is because of you, Celes,” Janeway said, trying to bolster Celes’s spirits without pushing too hard. “You showed evidence of unconventional thinking on your application. That’s why I accepted you to the post when your name came up.” “I only know what hit us because of something someone else said to me one time,” Celes said. “So? Trust me, Crewman, my senior staff have pulled ideas that saved our ship out of places much darker than your memory,” Janeway said with a smirk. Celes chuckled. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Captain, but you have to understand. To you, this is just data. To me, it’s a monster with fangs and claws. In my nightmares, I’m chased by algorithms. My brain just wasn’t built to understand this.”

“We could find you another post on Voyager,” Janeway said, though she had to admit to herself that she wasn’t sure where.

“I don’t think there is any place for me there. Not unless you need a waitress in the mess hall.” “There’s more to duty than the ability to manipulate algorithms. Everybody on Voyager has showed a courage far beyond what I could’ve expected considering the circumstances.”

“I appreciate the thought, Captain. And I’m happy that you want me to do well. But I don’t deserve to be on your ship. I’m not really a part of Voyager. I just live there. If it takes long enough for us to get home, eventually even Naomi, or Icheb, or probably even Angelo Tassoni will outrank me. I accept that.”

Janeway sighed. She wished she had a trained counselor onboard. She was starting to realize that this level of low self-esteem was beyond her ability overcome. She had managed to inspire her crew during tough times, but she couldn’t get this one Bajoran woman to see herself as anything but a failure. That fact broke her heart.

---

Six hours later, with no reply from Voyager, but also no further impacts, Samantha and the others gathered around to hear Captain Janeway’s report. “Our scans of the hull fragment were inconclusive,” Janeway said. “We found some displaced positrons, which are consistent with a dark matter impact, but could’ve been caused by something else. If we try to recalibrate our sensors with this little information we could end up with either a bunch of false alarms, or completely fail to catch the protocomet that finishes us off. Though I take the fact that we haven’t been hit by anything else yet as a good sign.” She touched the screen and a map came up. Sam wondered where this was going. “There’s a gas giant only a few hours from our current position,” Janeway said. “T-class, surrounded by orbital rings, including one that’s radiogenic.”

“We could use those particles to reinitialize our warp core reaction, right?” Celes said. Sam couldn’t help but notice that what confidence she’d gained during the initial crisis had faded away in the interim. “Exactly,” Janeway said, smiling and nodding at Celes. “With only ten percent of our antimatter left, we’d only be able to make warp two, but that’s a hell of a lot better than our current pace. Everyone clear on the plan?”

Samantha nodded, and saw that everyone else was too. “All right,” Janeway said. “Let’s do this.”

As the crew took their seats to begin the journey, there was suddenly a brief shudder. Sam thought for a moment that they would need to eject the core after all, but it stopped just as quickly as it had started. “I doubt that was another protocomet,” Janeway said. “If it was I-” Sam said, her thought cut off by a noise that seemed to be coming from nowhere, but was getting louder. “Find the source of that sound,” Janeway said. Sam grabbed a tricorder and opened it, seeing that everyone else except for the Captain had too. They all scanned around them, and when they reached the source, a look of dread appeared on everyone’s face, none more so than Angelo Tassoni, who looked at his tricorder in visible fear. “Oh no,” he said.

Suddenly, Tassoni vanished in a haze of green light, like some sort of transport beam. “What the hell?” Samantha yelled. “That’s impossible!” Celes said.

“Where is he?” Janeway said. Sam and Celes each bolted to the console nearest to them. Sam frantically tried to find any sign of him; his bio-signature, his comm badge, anything. “I can’t locate him,” she said, “He’s not out there. Not in space, not in sub-space…”

A brief noise similar to the longer, louder one that had preceded Angelo’s disappearance came and went, and as soon as it ended, Tassoni reappeared right where he’d been sitting, looking exhausted. With a groan, he fell over.

Sam went to him, Celes right next to her scanning him with a tricorder while Sam looked for visible signs of injury, eventually seeing a cut on the back of his neck.

"Inside... me..." Tassoni said. Sam gasped and nearly fell backwards as a creature of some sort could be seen moving around under his skin. Sam felt a tap on her shoulder, and saw Janeway behind her and Celes, motioning for both of them to head to the aft compartment, while she helped Tassoni to his feet. “Activate the transporter,” Janeway said, though to whom she was too close to panic to be certain. “Try to get a lock on whatever’s inside him.” Tassoni was panting, sweating, and barely able to stand. Janeway waved Sam over while Celes went to a console and frantically began manipulating the controls. “Help me get him into the bio-bed,” Janeway said, pressing a button. The bio-bed slid out of the wall, and the two women got the man into it quickly. Janeway took out her own tricorder and began scanning him. “The tricorder isn’t picking up anything,” Janeway said, sounding worried. “But I can feel it,” Tassoni said.

“I-I can’t get a lock,” Celes said, sounding equally scared. Sam desperately wanted someone to remain calm in this situation, but was afraid that it would have to be herself. “It’s like something’s there but it’s not there.”

“Oh, it’s there,” Tassoni said. “Unfortunately,” Janeway said, feeling at Tassoni’s sides with her bare hands, “I have to agree.”

“Maybe we weren’t hit by a protocomet after all,” Sam said. “No comet I ever heard of could do something like this.” “Think about it,” Janeway said. “Sensors can’t find this thing, transporters can’t lock on to it… Maybe this is some kind of dark matter lifeform.” “That can’t be right,” Sam said, trying to come up with an alternate explanation in her mind, but failing. Still, it had to be wrong. “Molecules that complex would collapse under their own weight. They could never support life.”

“It’s the best theory we got right now,” Janeway said to Sam. She looked down at Tassoni. “Angelo, where did they take you?”

“I don’t know,” Tassoni said, far more calm than Sam would’ve expected but still visibly in considerable pain. “It was dark, hot, there was breathing all around me. I tried to speak but there wasn't enough air. I tried to move, but something was pressing down on me.”

“Should we sedate him?” Sam asked. “If we do that it might lower his immune response,” Janeway said. “I don’t like seeing him like this either, but I don’t want to take that chance. Angelo?” “I understand, Captain,” Tassoni said. “You should put up a force field around the bio-bed. Just in case this thing breaks out of me.” Sam couldn’t believe how matter-of-factly the man had described something that could potentially lead to a very painful death, but then she remembered that this was a man who’d lived with the threat of certain death hanging over him for years. “Celes,” Janeway said, “come with me. Sam, stay with him.” “Understood,” Sam said. She hoped the Captain had some idea of how to help their colleague. She walked over to the bio-bed, as close as she could get without hitting the force field, and, as silly as it made her feel, tried to engage Angelo Tassoni in small talk.

---

“I’m setting a course for those rings,” Janeway said as she sat in the pilot’s seat. “Shunt as much power as you can to those impulse engines. Maybe we can get just a little more than 1/8th impulse.”

“We never should’ve left Voyager,” Celes said, sighing sadly as she followed Janeway’s orders. Janeway tried but failed not to smirk, glad that Celes wasn’t looking at her. “Voyager’s not exactly a safe haven either, Crewman. The Vidiians, the Kazon, the Borg, Species 8472, the Malon, I could go on and on.” “That doesn’t make me feel any better, Captain.” Celes said. “Just trying to put things in perspective. We’ve been chased across this quadrant by things far worse than whatever’s doing this to Angelo.” “I’ve got you three more percentage points of impulse,” Celes said. “I’ll take it,” Janeway said. “Good work. Have you considered engineering?” “What?” “If you feel that astrometrics isn’t right for you-” “Captain, is this really the time for this?”

“Perhaps not,” Janeway said. “But unless something changes with Angelo, there’s not much else we can do until we reach those rings.”

“Fair enough, ma’am, but I’d honestly rather not think or talk about my career right now.” Janeway couldn’t argue that point, so she respectfully stopped talking. The silence for the next few moments was uncomfortable, but Janeway decided it was best to just let Celes do her work. “Incoming transmission,” Celes said, sounding shocked. Janeway was shocked herself. “Source?” she said. “It’s a Starfleet frequency,” Celes said. “Must be Voyager.” The comm system activated, and at first the signal coming through was all static, but as it gradually faded, Janeway sighed heavily as she recognized her own voice, and her own words. Then she noticed something. Certain words were repeating, and not like an echo, but several times for one word, but only twice for another. There didn’t seem to be a pattern in it, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. “Subspace echo,” Celes said, her voice cracking. “Maybe not,” Janeway said. “There’s a .005 deviation in the carrier wave. Recognize that number?” “From our scans of the hull fragment, yes,” Celes said. “But what could that mean?” “They’re bouncing our own distress signal back to us,” Janeway said. “But modified. They might be trying to communicate. Try to adjust the universal translator for-” “Captain!” Samantha Wildman yelled. Janeway turned to see Angelo Tassoni, pale, but walking upright. “I don’t know how, but he went right through the force field,” Sam added.

“Angelo,” Janeway said, her hand moving close to a panel where she knew a hand phaser was kept, “what are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Tassoni said through gritted teeth. “It’s controlling me. I can’t stop it. You’ll have to stop it.” “How? Janeway said. Tassoni directed his gaze towards the panel that Janeway had her hand near. “Do it,” he said. Janeway quickly opened the panel, took out the phaser, and was glad to see it was already on a low stun setting. She fired, hitting Tassoni square in the chest, He yelped, and fell back, but remained conscious.

“It’s in my shoulder,” he said, tearing up, the pain clearly getting to be too much. The alien, whatever it was, ripped through the skin on Tassoni’s neck where the cut they’d seen earlier had been and lept onto a console. It reminded Janeway of a millipede, only much larger, and glowing black and purple. Its tiny legs began manipulating controls on the console, equally purple sparks of energy coming from it as it did so.

“It’s tapping into our systems,” Celes said, panic entering her voice. “Wait,” Janeway said, “it might be trying to communicate.” The console’s lights began flickering. Soon, sparks began exploding from the console. “It’s in our environmental controls,” Celes said. “We’ve got to stop it.” “Wait,” Janeway said again, but Celes had already found another phaser and fired at the alien, vaporizing it. Janeway knocked the phaser out of her hand. “What the hell did you do?” she said. “It was trying to kill us,” Celes said. “I had to. I’m sorry.” “You don’t know that for certain,” Janeway said. “I heard its thoughts, Captain,” Tassoni said. “When it left me, I could hear what it was thinking. ‘Do not belong.’ That’s what it said.” “It didn’t belong on the Delta Flyer?” Janeway asked. “Or it could mean that we don’t belong in this part of space,” Samantha said. “Prophets forgive me,” Celes said. “What if it was just trying to survive? What did I do?”

“We can discuss this later,” Janeway said. “If it was hostile, it probably has friends who will come after us. We need to get to those rings to-” The Flyer shook violently, sending nearly everyone toppling to the floor. “We just lost another section of hull,” Celes said, managing to take a seat at the nearest console. “How far are we from the gas giant?” Janeway said. “200,000 kilometers,” Celes said. “I’m taking the Flyer into the radiogenic ring,” Janeway said. “With any luck they won’t follow.” “We can’t survive in there for more than a few minutes,” Celes said. “That should be enough to reinitialize the warp core,” Janeway said. As she flew the Delta Flyer into the rings, she wondered if this situation was avoidable. The more thought she gave it though, she realized that there was no right answer. The odds were roughly 50/50 that the alien was either trying to communicate and the environmental controls were an accident, or it was trying to kill them and Tal Celes had done the right thing. Regrettably, she doubted she’d ever know.

“Start continuous transport of radiogenic particles directly into the reaction chamber. When it’s approaching critical mass, let me know.” She got up and headed to the back of the cabin to check on Tassoni. “Watch for any sign of pursuit.” Tassoni sat on the floor, leaned back against the bulkhead, looking exhausted, but also relieved. Janeway imagined that, despite how painful the exit look, having the creature gone was a great relief to him. “How are you doing?” she asked. “Mildly amused by the irony of it all,” Tassoni said. “I survive the Equinox, only to end up nearly getting killed by a creature I didn’t do anything to.” “This situation isn’t anything like what happened on your old ship,” Janeway said. “You didn’t do anything wrong here. This is on me. I ordered the three of you out here.”

“I know,” Tassoni said. “They’re in pursuit,” Celes called out from her station, sounding worried. “I’ve got multiple subspace variations, all of them .005, and all of them converging on our positions from the aft.”

“Shit,” Janeway muttered under her breath, quickly moving back to the helm. “How long do we have?” “Three minutes, twenty seconds,” Celes said. “We’ll need twice that to reinitialize warp reaction,” Samantha said. I got them into this, Janeway thought. It’s up to me to give them a chance to get back to Voyager. “Get in the escape pods,” she said. “Captain?” Samantha said. “Plot a course away from the planet,” Janeway said. “I’m going to fire a phaser volley and hopefully set off a chain reaction of the radiogenic particles. It might be enough to disable our friends.”

“You’ll be disabled too,” Tassoni said, having recovered enough to take a seat behind Celes. “Not if I go to full thrusters and keep in front of the shockwave,” Janeway said. “There’s no guarantee we could get the pods to a safe distance in time, Captain,” Samantha said. “As my wife would say, this is highly inadvisable plan.” “How would you say it, Sam?” Janeway said, smirking. “With language that I would never use in front of my daughter, ma’am,” Samantha said.

“She’s right,” Celes said. “About the escape pods I mean, not the language. And Angelo is in no shape to pilot an escape pod. We’re staying.” “Are you disobeying an order, Crewman?” Janeway said. “No, Captain,” Celes said. “You didn’t phrase it as an order.” Under less tense circumstances, Janeway would’ve called Celes out for using semantics to get around what she’d told her to do. Instead, she had to admit she was actually rather proud of Celes finally standing up for herself. I must be getting soft in my old age, she thought. “You know,” Janeway said dryly, “most of the time, mutineers are trying to kill their Captains, not save them. You’ve made your choice. Hang on tight. Charge phaser banks and divert all available power to thrusters. How close are our pursuers?”

“Sixty-five seconds to intercept,” Celes said. “Stand by to fire, on my mark,” Janeway said. “Hey, Celes?” Tassoni said. “You ever consider tactical? You’re doing pretty good at this.” “Not now,” Celes said, focusing on her console. “Fire,” Janeway said. Janeway couldn’t see the phaser beams as they were firing from the aft, but the light of the explosion began to fill the edges of the forward view port, even as she pushed the controls as hard as she could, actually grateful that Tom Paris had insisted on more old-fashioned tactile flight controls when he’d designed the Flyer. Having something she could grip rather than simply tap gave her more of a feeling of control, one she needed as the ship shuddered, the shockwave getting closer. A violent shake, much more than what they were already facing, caught her off guard, and she felt her head hit something, and her vision go blurry.

---

“Captain!” Celes yelled. Samantha moved forward to see if the Captain was alive. She was, but was clearly out of it, breathing, but her eyes closed. “Auto-pilot is off-line,” Tassoni said. “We’re starting to turn back into the shockwave. The captain must’ve pulled the control when she went down.” “I don’t know how to fly this thing,” Celes said, starting to panic, though Samantha could only barely make out the words over the noise of the ship shaking. This is it, she thought. The Delta Flyer’s going to kill me after all. Suddenly, random memories came to her. Skiing with Seven of Nine. Teaching Naomi how to do her hair. Showing Icheb how to work an electron microscope. “Screw this,” Samanta said. “I’m gonna live.” She got into the pilot’s seat, and looked at the controls. She cursed Tom Paris for having insisted on controls similar to older ships, as her only piloting experience, limited though it was, was on standard issue Starfleet shuttles with touchscreen controls. Still, she had watched Tom piloting it that week where she had nearly died along with Paris and Tuvok. She hoped it would be enough. She took the controls, and got the Flyer back on course as best she could, nearly overtaxing the inertial dampeners in the process.

---

Seven of Nine was prepared to offer whatever comfort Samantha needed once she was cleared from sickbay with the others who had been on the Delta Flyer. She did not suspect that she would not need to. Seven entered sickbay, and before she could say a word, Samantha threw her arms around Seven, kissing her hard on the lips before pulling back. “Oh, Annie, it was, wow. I’ve never felt anything like that before. Was it like that for you?” “Was, what?” “Saving people. Getting to be the hero.” “I don’t under-” “I brought them home,” Samantha said, smiling, breathing heavily, barely able to stand still. Seven was concerned that she was having some form of attack. “I saved us. I flew the ship. I stabilized it so we wouldn’t get destroyed in the shockwave. I’ve never saved anyone’s life before. It’s so exciting, I can barely even speak.”

“Are you sure about that part?” Seven said, wanting to be happy that Sam was happy, but instead feeling confused. “I know things didn’t go as smoothly as the Captain planned,” Samantha said, finally slowing down, “but it was worth it. I’m not afraid to leave the ship anymore.” Seven titled her head. “I was led to believe that phobias were not so easily cured.” “Cured, no,” The Doctor said, “but what Sam had wasn’t a true phobia. Not in the medical sense of the word anyway.”

Seven felt Samantha’s hands on her behind, squeezing gently. “You wanna know something else getting to be the hero makes me feel?” Sam said. “I do not need to be seeing this,” The Doctor said, quickly moving to the other bio-beds to look after the Captain, Tal Celes, and Angelo Tassoni. “Are any of the holodecks free?” Seven said. “Let’s find out,” Sam said.

---

Tal Celes was lying down in her quarters, her sheets pulled over her head. She was late for a shift, but didn’t care. She heard the door open, but didn’t bother to look. “Go away,” she groaned. “Not yet,” Captain Janeway’s voice replied. Celes sat upright so fast she nearly got dizzy. “Captain! I, I didn’t-” “If you’re going to make excuses for being late to your shift, don’t bother. I told Commander Chakotay to give you a pass. This time. I just wanted to come down and apologize to you in person since I didn’t get the chance in sickbay.” “Apologize? For what?” Celes said, feeling confused. “You made a judgment call when that dark matter alien was manipulating the environmental controls. I’m still not certain whether it was hostile or just confused, but that didn’t give me the right to yell at you the way I did. You acted in defense of your crew. That’s something to be proud of, Crewman.” “I killed something. Whatever it was. I’ve never taken a life before. Not even when I was still on Bajor. My family kept me hidden, and by the time I was old enough for them to finally let me fight, the Occupation was over. How can I live with myself? How do you do it, Captain? You’ve had to kill before, to defend the ship.” “Yes, yes, I have. You’re probably wondering how I’m able to sleep at night after I’ve done so,” Janeway said, sitting on the edge of Celes’s bed. “I didn’t mean-” “It’s a fair question. I just wish I had the answer I think you’re hoping for. Fact is, some nights, I can’t. It gets easier with time, certainly. And how much they hurt us before I hurt them factors into it, I won’t pretend it doesn’t. Killing someone who’s trying to kill you, it feels good, in the moment. But that moment never lasts. That’s a good thing though. If it ever does become easy for you, that’s when you have a problem.” Janeway got up. “Be glad you feel remorseful, Crewman Tal. It means you’re still one of the good guys. Take the day off, but I expect to see you in astrometrics for your regular shift tomorrow.” “Yes, Captain,” Celes said.

#a fire of devotion #Part 3 #chapter ten #sam7 #star trek voyager #fan fic

0 notes