Star Trek Voyager
"Commander"

by K.N. Senko

Disclaimer:  Janeway and crew belong to Paramount and Viacom.  I just want to borrow them so i can give them a better journey the second time around.

Note:  As you'd probably have figured out within a few seconds if you hadn't already known, it's an episode addition to "Caretaker."  Enjoy!
 
 
 
Captain Kathryn Janeway sat in her ready room, staring at the planet below.  The Ocampan homeworld's surface was covered with darkness for as far as the eye could see.  It almost looked peaceful that way:  she couldn't see the craters that were once oceans, or the canyons that had once been riverbeds.  There was only darkness.  Peaceful.  Quiet.

And then Voyager's orbit took them to the other side, into the light of the Ocampan sun.  For one instant, she was blinded by the beauty of the sunrise, and then it was over, and they were passing over the barren desert again.  The planet looked dead:  and it very well would have been had it not been for her.  She had to keep telling herself that...  She hadn't destroyed the Caretaker's array for a dead planet; she had saved it for the millions of inhabitants who lived there.  The millions of individuals who would have died had she not intervened.

She had been sitting here for hours, had seen the same sunrise every ninety minutes, and every time she told herself the same thing...  Destroying the Caretaker's array had been the right choice.  But that didn't make the pain in her chest hurt any less.

Kathryn turned away from her viewport, wiped the tears from her eyes.  It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself; it was time to act like the captain she was.  She picked up the mug of coffee that she had left on the table before her.  It was cool to the touch, and she knew that it wasn't drinkable anymore, so she took it took the replicator, recycled it.

"Coffee, black," she ordered.  The computer chimed its acknowledgement, and a new mug sparkled into existence.  The door chimed.  "Come in."

She picked up her mug and cradled it in her hands, inhaling the warm scent.  It calmed her enough to face her visitors, the people who had just entered her office.  She turned, every bit the captain again, and visually sized up the three men that stood before her.  Baxter, a member of Tuvok's security team, looked exhausted.  On the other side of the man they were escorting was Tuvok, who looked fully rested and impassive despite the fact that he was the one who had pulled the trigger that destroyed the array only hours before.

Between the two officers stood the man whom she wanted to see.  He stood half a head taller than his escorts, seeing as Baxter was a rather short man, and though Tuvok was not short, he certainly wasn't tall.  The man's eyes didn't meet hers.  Despite his height, she had a good view of his salt-and-pepper hair from where she was.  He was staring at the floor, as if he knew that his future rested in her hands, just as securely as the cup of coffee that she held.

She took a sip of that coffee, approached the trio, stopping in front of her guest.  She paused, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that this man towered above her compared to her two officers.  She pushed the thought aside, turned to the man on her left:  "Mr. Baxter, I think that it's time you go off duty."

"Captain?" he asked in confusion.

"If I'm not mistaken, your shift is over."

"Yes, Ma'am, it is."  She allowed a slight pause:

"Go to bed," she said softly yet firmly.

"Thank you, Captain," Baxter glanced over at Tuvok, who did not return the gesture, then left, a bit flustered.  Janeway took another sip of her coffee:

"Mr. Tuvok:  set a course for the debris field," she stated easily, though her gaze was on the man before her.  She turned to her right then:  "Neelix and Kes will be leaving us in the morning."  Tuvok's gaze met hers.  She knew that he didn't want to leave her alone with this man:  she could see it in his eyes.

"Captain..."

"Dismissed."  That was enough to silence his objections.  Her Tactical Officer left without another word, and she was left standing before her prisoner.  "Have a seat."

She turned on her heel, leaving her visitor where he stood.  She knew that he wasn't staring at the floor anymore, was confused by the amount of trust in him that she had just displayed.  He tentatively took the seat she had indicated.  She moved around her desk, turned to look at him as she set her cup down.  Their eyes met for the first time, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

His eyes were as dark as the coffee that she drank, and were as open to her as a book.  But those eyes were filled with something she hadn't expected:  fear.  He was afraid of her.  "Mr. Chakotay, we have a problem."

She sat down at this statement, turned her chair to look at him face to face.  He didn't reply as she placed her elbows on her desk, clasped her hands together, and leaned forward to continue:  "It seems that you have a lost a ship, and I've lost a first officer.  I barely have enough crewmembers to run this ship, let alone begin a journey that will take seventy-five years."

"You don't intend to go back to the Alpha Quadrant," he guessed.

"On the contrary:  I promised Tuvok that I would get him home, as well as the entire crew, and I intend to do just that."

"How?" he asked as she took a sip of her coffee:

"I intend to do is recruit a new crew," she stood.  "Chakotay, you held the rank of Lieutenant Commander before you resigned your commission, did you not?"  She had slowly come to the front of her desk now, and sat down on the edge of it.  Chakotay sat back in seat:

"That's right."  She crossed her arms:

"Judging by Lieutenant Tuvok's report, the amount of trust you engender in your crew is considerable."

"They're a good crew," he acknowledged.  "I would trust every one of them with my life."

"And you very well had to in your line of work," Janeway remarked.  "And I would be a fool to not take advantage of that."

"Captain?"  She stood, began pacing, beginning a circle that would take her behind him and around his chair:

"I have an offer to make you and your crew," she replied.  "My superiors view you and the rest of the Maquis as criminals, but it wouldn't be very practical for me to throw you and your crew into the brig for seventy-five years."  She paused at the railing, her back turned to him as she stared out into space.  She turned to face him:  "At the same time your crew is comparable in size to my own.  If you chose to mutiny, I have no doubt that your crew would follow you.  My crew could very well be overpowered, but not without considerable losses on both sides."

"I suppose so," he noted.  She resumed her trip around him:

"I don't want to live with that fear, and I don't want those deaths on my head.  Fortunately, I think that I may have a solution."  She stopped before him, and they studied each other face to face:  "How would you like to become my first officer?"

Chakotay was suddenly halfway out of his chair:

"I thought that Tuvok..."

"Lieutenant Tuvok is my chief of security," she replied.  "A good one.  But I'm not sure that promoting him now would help matters..." she drifted off.  "There are certain conditions, of course."

"What sort of conditions?" Chakotay stood, towering over her again.

"Your crew," she looked up at him. "They'll all become a Starfleet crew:  will wear the uniform, assume the duties of Starfleet crewmembers, and they will act with the respect and professionalism of Starfleet officers."  They held each other's gaze for a long moment.  Chakotay finally looked away:

"Some of them won't like that," he replied.

"You have to make them like that," she told him firmly.  She crossed her arms:  "There's more."  His eyes met hers again.  "You will assume the duties of first officer and will help integrate your crew into mine.  They will become our crew, but there will not be a question of who is in charge on this ship.  This is my ship, and the moment that you question that authority or allow any of the Maquis to, I will haul you down to the brig myself and throw you in by the scruff of your neck."

Chakotay pulled back, and his eyes searched hers.  He could see her determination, and she watched him as he slowly mulled over her words.  Suddenly the doubt in his eyes changed into something that she hadn't expected at all:

"That won't be necessary," he replied.  "I promise you that I will never lead a mutiny or question your authority, and if any of my crew so much as breathes the word, I'll deal with it myself."  She stepped back:  hadn't expected that amount of devotion from him.

"Thank you," she finally found her voice.  She turned away, not wanting him to see her surprise:  "There is one other thing..." she stated as she walked around her desk:  "Tom Paris."

"You intend to make him your helmsman," he said it as if he had known all along.  He approached her desk, and now stood in front of her.

"Yes," she replied.  "I trust that that won't be a problem:  I wouldn't want him to be injured or killed."

"No, Sir, it won't be," he replied.  "I'll see to his safety:  now that my life belongs to him..."  He said the last part quietly, almost under his breath:

"What was that?" she asked.  He didn't answer at first, and she wondered if she had heard him right.  Chakotay just shook his head:

"Long story."  She decided not to pursue it, and seated to herself:

"You might as well know that I don't like to be referred to as Sir.  You will address me as Captain:  I trust that you'll inform you crew of this as well."

"Of course, Captain."

"Speaking of which, they are all waiting for you in Cargo Bay Two as we speak."

"You knew that I would say yes?" he asked.  She lifted her chin to study him:

"I hoped that you would," she answered quietly.  There was another slight pause, and then he nodded:

"I'll go speak with them."  He turned to go, but she stood to stop him:

"Commander."  He turned to face her, and she held out her right hand to him:  "I hope that we'll be able to develop a comfortable professional relationship, Chakotay."  He took her hand, and she froze for a moment at his touch, her eyes suddenly unable to be pulled away from his.  He finally broke eye contact, and they both looked at their hands, shook slowly, firmly.  She pulled her hand away then:  "Dismissed."

Her gaze followed the Commander as he left the room.  She drank the last of her coffee, recycled the mug, and then walked across the room to follow him onto the bridge.  He was still there, waiting by the turbolift doors, Tuvok before him:

"I am sorry, Captain, but as Chief of Security I must insist..."

"Tuvok."  The two men turned at her voice:  "Commander Chakotay will no longer require an escort, nor will any of the Maquis.  Each crewmember needs to be given quarters, and in the morning you and the Commander will need to discuss duty assignments.  The Maquis will also need uniforms:  I trust you can handle that."

"Of course, Captain," Tuvok's voice didn't betray anything, not confusion or disagreement.

"You have the bridge," she stepped into the turbolift, and Chakotay followed her solemnly.  "Deck three," she stated.

"Cargo Bay Two," he echoed as he fell into place beside her, on her left side.  The 'lift doors closed, and they began their descent.  "You're used to getting your own way, aren't you?" Chakotay asked after a heavy pause.  She glanced over at him, but he was staring straight ahead.

"I'm the Captain," she replied, turning to look ahead again.  He turned to her now:

"What if they say no?"  She returned his gaze:

"Then I guess I will have to throw them in the brig."  The turbolift came to a halt, and the doors opened.  Kathryn smiled at her new first officer, hoped that he realized that she was trying to lighten the mood:  "Good night, Commander."
 
 
 

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Chakotay swallowed as the 'lift doors closed behind his new captain.  He forced himself to slow his breathing, tried to stop blushing.  This would never do:  why should she have the power to turn his knees to jelly?  Her very touch sent his skin on fire.  He was acting like a schoolboy, not even with the maturity of a cadet.  And now he had to face his crew.

Chakotay stepped out of the turbolift and asked the computer for directions.  It was a short enough walk, but he managed to pass a few crewmembers along the way, all of whom looked at him suspiciously.  It didn't bother him:  he was almost getting used to it...  But all that would change soon enough.

He stepped into the cargo bay, ignoring the confused looks of the few security officers who were posted there.  He stepped up to where B'Elanna, Seska, and Ayala stood, near the center of the room.  The Maquis grew quiet soon enough.

"I just spoke with Captain Janeway," Chakotay began.  "She's offered us places on her crew, and me the position of first officer."

"You expect us to accept?" B'Elanna demanded, stepping forward.  "I can't believe that you would follow that P'tak!"

"This isn't a negotiation," Chakotay cut her off.  "We will join her crew or we will spend the rest of our lives in confinement, locked in our quarters, or worse:  the brig."  B'Elanna stepped back, arms crossed, head lowered, still steaming.  Chakotay continued:  "We will look and act like a Starfleet crew, and in return we are given freedom.  We will be treated with as much respect as any other member of her crew, and Captain Janeway is going to do everything that she can to get us home.  It's up to you."  He turned to scan the faces of his crew, then crossed his arms:  "You have ten minutes to decide."

He stood there, watching them turn to each other, whispering amongst themselves.  It didn't take them long.  Seska turned to face him:

"We don't need five minutes, Chakotay," she told him.  "We're in."  Several crewmembers nodded their agreement.

"Good," he stated.  "Now we can all get some rest."  Several people laughed uneasily, and Chakotay continued:  "I just want to make one thing clear:  you will all treat our new captain with as much respect as you would treat me... no, more."  He scanned their faces again:  "This will be hard for all of us, but what she says on Voyager goes."  No one spoke.  "Let's go."

He turned and led the way out of the cargo bay.  The crewmen at the door nodded to him as he stepped into the corridor, and he stopped in front of Rollins, who had several members of security with him.

"Sir," Rollins greeted.  "I'm to escort you to your quarters."  Chakotay nodded, and he followed the younger man down the corridor.  He couldn't wait to crawl into bed.
 
 
 

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the next day

Kathryn stood with her arms crossed, staring out into space at the stars that were streaking by.  She was at deck two's observation ports, contemplating how the Maquis' first day as members of Starfleet had gone.

"Nice speech."  She turned to find Chakotay stepping up to her left side:  "I didn't expect to find you here."  She shrugged:

"It seemed appropriate at the time," she replied.  He nodded, turning to watch the view with her:

"My crew..." he paused:  "our crew, are settling in."

"Good," she nodded.  There was a pause between them, heavy with the tension in their silence.

"I'd like to thank you for the quarters," he noted.  "I didn't expect the first officer's suite."  She turned to him:

"You're the first officer."

"I know but..." he paused.  "Thank you."  She nodded, and they both turned to watch the view again.  She knew that he meant more than just the quarters.

"They're in for a hard journey," she noted.  They fell into silence again.  She wondered if he had noticed her double meaning.  At last, Chakotay nodded:

"Yes, we are."  He lifted a hand, as if he was going to rest it on her shoulder, but then he thought better of it.  He clasped his hands behind his back:  "Good night, Captain."

"Good night, Commander."  Kathryn didn't watch him leave:  she didn't need to.  She could feel him go.  She stared out into the darkness for a while, then turned to go to her own quarters.  The view would still be there in the morning, and she had a feeling that she and her first officer would stare it in the face on more than one occasion.  Oddly enough, that brought her comfort.  Maybe they could get through this after all.
 
 
 

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