Author:
HyperHenry
Disclaimers: The butts of Mel and her crew, including the ship, the Chief Cochise, are my property. Everything else belongs to the almighty and all-powerful Paramount.
Rating: Sorry! Still NC-17. Not due to sex, though. The language and violence might offend or shock members of the younger society. So beat it, kiddies, and go play with a computer with a Net-Nanny.
Summary: Chakotay on his own. A little thought experiment: what if Chaks just cut all the lines to his past with Voyager and Janeway after they got back to the Alpha Quadrant? What would his life be like? Where would he be and what would he be doing? Well, somebody has given that question some thought and approaches the commander with a proposal. And a new life awaits Janeway's ex- first officer.
Author's notes: WARNING! WARNING! All hard core J/C's be warned. This is NOT J and C. This is merely C and his life after J. This whole thing was opted by my irritation that the writers of the Star Trek universe keep making simple and basic mistakes in the description and narration of military procedures and common sense. Yours truly once spent six years in the Danish Homeguard where I gained the experience from which I draw my information and knowledge. I am, of course, no expert seal or anything like that. However, I did manage to obtain a solid basic knowledge of warfare, weapons and military tactics.
An ear piece is described in the story as being a wireless device which is positioned in the ear and devoid of any white noise, basically functioning through sound waves in the jaw bone. This device is not science fiction. It exists today, is used by paramedics and the Civil Defence and was indeed invented by a Dane.
Linguistic cock-ups are a given for a Danish writer who's not writing in her mother's tongue. Please forgive me. I am learning, however.
Actually, I'm far better with drawings. Go to my Story Illustrations page, if you wish to access some of the portraits for this story.
Acknowledgements: I owe my creative longings to my wonderful mother, who left this world much too soon. I know you are forever with me, Mom, resting in the bossom of angels. Du blev født på en stjerne!
Have you noticed how film makers can't seem to create a strong action woman without her being a bitch, a frosty ice maiden or a stiff nun? This story is also an attempt to show readers that female military leaders can be and are quite emotionally functional and relaxed. Often they have a profound insight in human nature, a distinct advantage that constantly helps them pick the right soldiers for the right job. Women leaders are by no means 'softies' or 'emotionally unstable'; often they are flexible, imaginative and incredibly tough - and constant as the Northern Star. I know. One of them was my company commander.
Commander Maj-britt Schmidt: this one's for you! :)
The Chief Cochise
Part 1
The wind was brisk and cool and he welcomed it on his somewhat hot, flushed face. Above him in the sky birds were obviously discussing something of intense importance for their voices rang loud and carried high as if they wanted to be certain that the gods were listening.
Perhaps they were. Commander Chakotay too found himself interested in what they had to say.
Listen to the birds, Chakotay, they have something to tell you.
So strange that it had taken so long to realise the wisdom of his father's words.
And now. His voice was stilled, but his words still lived on in his son's mind.
Finally.
Chakotay lowered his head before the dizziness of looking upwards overwhelmed him. Down below there was plenty to arouse his curiosity as it was. The rustle in the fallen leaves and the creaks and little telltale sounds from the ground bore evidence to a rich animal life as important and communicative as the life he had seen and heard above him.
The commander sighed heavily, filled his lungs with the fresh, sharp autumn air, purging his inner self and let the clean air leave his lungs with all his anxiety and worries.
He was starting a new life.
A new life without Voyager, Kathryn, the Maquis ....... and strict Starfleet regulations.
The Native American looked down again.
How come he didn't remember how beautiful Earth was. Yet he was standing on it this very minute, stepping on it, breathing the air, hearing the sounds, seeing the life. Life.
Chakotay was alive and he had never felt so happy in his entire life before.
He noticed his shoes. Civilian shoes. He had exactly 14 days before he would go into active duty again. Fourteen days to make amends with the rest of the Maquis crew, fourteen days to explain why he had accepted the assignment he had been offered........
............ B'Elanna was looking at him in deep annoyance. Her perky chin was up, her arms crossed and her eyes flashing. Chakotay knew all these signs so very well. B'Elanna was not happy and she was going to let him know. She looked nice in her civvies, he decided. And she looked marvellous for a woman who had just given birth to a child. Her hips were still broad, her belly still floppy and double chin not completely vanished yet. Yet she looked radiant.
"I just don't understand you, Chakotay - we are home. Starfleet has given us free leave. We have been offered good Starfleet officer positions .... and you intend to sneak away on some odd covert assignment when you could be together with the rest of us?"
"I'm not sneaking away, and it's not covert ..."
"It's Kathryn, isn't it?"
"It's ...." Chakotay stopped and realised to his immense surprise ... that it wasn't.
It wasn't because of Kathryn Janeway, former Captain of Voyager, that he now preferred being seconded to another section of Starfleet. He had definitely loved her once, and he still did in some odd melancholy way. But he had put her behind her as a prospective future lover. She had rejected him again and again, and slowly but steadily, the love and physical attraction he had felt for her had faded out.
It startled him somewhat to realise it so abruptly. He turned a slightly confused face towards his old friend, who was standing in front of him, trying to wake him from his reverie.
"No, it isn't!" he said, still sounding like a man, who was dreaming.
B'Elanna raised an eyebrow. His denial didn't sound overtly convincing, but for some intuitive reason, she believed him.
"Then ... what?" she asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice.
Now Chakotay was smiling broadly and in a relaxed manner.
"It was a fascinating offer, B'El, and I wished you could go with me - it's right up your alley..."
"You know I can't leave my husband and the baby." She pointed out reproachfully.
The big man nodded.
"Of course not. I said 'I WISHED' ... got it?"
She smiled at him, matching his relaxed mood.
"Of course. And I understand ... sort of. I wish you could tell me more about it - and I wish you all the good luck in the world."
He dimpled her full power.
"I'll stay in touch. We'll meet again and exchange 'fleet stories, right?"
"Right!" she answered and went into his open arms willingly. Her embrace almost hurt his ribs as she hugged him and murmured into his chest:
"Take care of yourself, old man."
*
The two weeks disappeared much faster than he had anticipated. He only got one chance of seeing Janeway again, and she seemed her own self, reserved but polite, wishing him all the best in the world and good luck with his new assignment. He worked her over with his dimples, told her how much he had enjoyed working with her despite their differences, thank her cordially for her warm advocate speech in the Maquis' favour, kissed her shortly and fondly on the cheek and then left her Admiral's office.
He briefly wondered if he would ever see her again.
The rest of his shore leave was spent with old friends and ex-Maquis, who all regretted his untimely re-designation. Very few of them seemed to understand that he actually preferred it so.
And then the day came where the birds' singing and the leaves' rustling appeared to abate, winter was getting closer and so was his departure.
"....... so who is my commanding officer?" Commander Chakotay asked as he strode down the station corridor along with Commodore Welch.
He had arrived at space station 23 in sector 4 only two days before, and he was already being briefed about his new job. The bulky commodore at his side was his match in long steps and seemed equally eager to introduce the newcomer to his assigned ship and superior.
"You have probably never heard of her. She was quite a liability until we figured out where to put her."
"Her?"
The commodore grinned broadly.
"Yep! You seemed to get along fine with one notorious female captain, so we reckoned that you would feel just fine with another."
"That depends...." Chakotay said wearily.
"Of course, it does." The big man agreed unexpectedly, "Women are just as different as us men, eh?"
He winked at the Native American and elbowed him appreciatively. Chakotay felt a little stunned. This all felt very un-starfleet.
His musing was interrupted by something blue and speedy that suddenly flashed past them without noticing them.
"YO!" the commodore bellowed.
The blue shape turned. It was a young man, incredibly dirty, his face scratched and his uniform in shreds.
"If you're looking for the Cap, she's right behind me." The lad bellowed back - without saluting.
What is this??? Chakotay thought confused, Have these people discarded protocol completely?
He turned round to comment on it to the commodore, but shut his mouth again.
Before him stood a tall, slim woman of 40 odd with a mass of short dark hair, that surrounded a handsome if somewhat ordinary face, eyes shining like amber, honey coloured skin. She was wearing a dark blue and grey uniform, which couldn't hide her well trained muscle tone or the state she was in.
The uniform looked like hell.
So did she.
Obviously she just came from an away mission.
She wasn't really stopping either, she nodded firmly but absentmindedly to them both and then stormed on down the corridor.
The commodore set his impressive body mass in motion and hurried after her with Chakotay in tow.
"Mel. MEL!"
She didn't slow down, but she did begin to talk. Her voice was not husky like Kathryn's, Chakotay thought, but it was full and mature.
"Sir, I'm in a hurry here - you either wait or talk to me in my shower." She said, showing absolutely no respect for her superior. The ex-Maquis now expected the commodore to dress her seriously down, but instead he said grinningly.
"I have no problem with that, Mel - but perhaps Commander Chakotay has."
That finally made her stop. She directed those oddly coloured eyes at him and her voice was tinged with curiosity.
"My new first?"
"The very same." The commodore looked positively proud that he had made the torpedo stop.
She offered him her unbelievably dirty hand.
"Welcome to the shack!" she grinned, teeth even and flashing. With those amber eyes and that smile she might easily be a wolf, the Native American decided.
Then the torpedo began moving again, without waiting for an answer.
"Meet me in the canteen in 20 minutes, Commander - we have much to discuss."
And she was gone.
"Well, she's kinda no-nonsense." Commodore Welch explained, "But I'm sure you two will get along just famously." and then he patted Chakotay on the back with the impact of a bear's paw. Janeway's ex-first officer felt inclined to rub his eyes; for a second there he thought he saw a big bear instead of the commodore, just as he had seen a wolf instead of his new CO. Not that the comparison wasn't valid. The commodore had the height and volume of a grizzly and his thick, silverish beard only added to that illusion. His eyes, however, did not contain the peril of a grizzly at all. They sparkled humorously and amicably at you with their clear water blue irises.
"Sir," Chakotay tried, "about this ... loose... protocol approach I witness here."
"You'll get used to it." the bear assured him while they slowly proceeded down the corridor, "I reckon it is very Maquis, but I also reckon that you held your men more firmly at bay, being a product of Starfleet Academy - eh?"
The blue eyes twinkled intelligently at the former Maquis, who mutely nodded, wondering how the hell this man was able to see through people he had only just met a day before.
The bear paw continued to pat his back vigorously and mercilessly.
"Let's get you some info on your CO before you meet her for real. And let's do it quickly. She's not the one to look lightly on delays for starters."
*
When Captain Melanie D. Dayton (by some called "D-Day") stepped out of her shower, wrapped in a huge mauve blanket, she would have signed any affidavit that stated that she had just been born, coming out of the shower head together with those blessed droplets of silver that the station plumbing provided so readily and efficiently.
Seven days of sweat, dirt, dust, vomit, blood, shit and urine literally off her back in just a few minutes.
I love modern commodities, she thought dreamily, clean in an instant - no soaking. Some people, she knew, could lie in a bathtub for hours. In Melanie's mind that was simply waste of quality time.
The tall dark-haired woman quickly rubbed her honey coloured skin with the blanket and then threw it into a far corner. She then shook her thick, rough hair free of the last remains of silver drops and headed for the wardrobe.
Melanie Dayton didn't need to check her chronometer to know that she had exactly 8 minutes before she was due to meet her new XO in the canteen where she had summoned him herself. She was practically born with an inner watch.
She went through her sparse clothing in the closet with an appreciative and critical eye. She never took long to choose what to wear, yet she didn't choose without contemplating either. Since she was off duty she donned a dark gold suit, seamed with creme edges, that matched her amber eyes and honey skin perfectly. Yet it was not a suit that sent the wrong message; the neckline was demure and the folds loose. This was work, not flirting.
The captain of the interesting, mixed heritage rolled up her sleeves and thus revealed long scratches along her lower arm that had been left untreated.
Might as well show him that we don't care about superficial scratches the way they do on regular starships, she mused, intent on relaying the right picture from the start.
She had had two marvellous first officers before this one and she was determined to make this a third. She was also determined to give the man a chance to bail out if he didn't like what he saw. Better now than later in the heat of combat, she thought, nodding to herself.
Commander Chakotay, she contemplated, sticking her feet into two hazel brown boots, that name had become quite famous, or so she'd understood. She and her team had only recently returned from a long mission that included 'no contact' with base, which meant 'no information from the outside world'. However, apparently this guy had been one of the Maquis that vanished together with Voyager seven years earlier only to perform one helluva spectacular return later. As it turned out, as much as Welch had had time to explain her, the Maquis leader had accepted the post as first officer for Captain Kathryn Janeway in their long struggle to reach home.
Without knowing more details of the circumstances, Melanie couldn't but admire a captain that so stubbornly had managed to get her crew home.
Such a good captain must have had a good first officer.
So Melanie wanted him.
Of course, she was aware of the one problem she had already identified: that Janeway no doubt was stiff on protocol. And that couldn't really be said of the Chief Cochise, her battered, but never yielding spaceship and its indefatigable crew.
Captain Dayton straightened, smoothed out some folds and raised her eerie wolf eyes to gaze at the door.
How would her new XO meet the team challenge? How would he fit in with the attitude and atmosphere of the company?
She wondered.
Commander Chakotay had showed up in the canteen ten minutes before the appointed time. In front of him lay a PADD that relayed all the information Commodore Welch had provided him on a certain captain.
Captain Melanie D. (what did the D. stand for?) Dayton had started her ... alternative Starfleet career by joining when she was 18 - just like everybody else. From the start she turned out to be smart and innovative - at times a little too innovative. When she graduated, she did so with one year of delay, having spent a year on Cerberos 5, dealing with a family crisis. Immediately after her graduation she was assigned to a space station where she ended up in open fight with the station's commodore who recommended that she be seconded to a starship to teach her some manners.
It was on route to this new assignment that her ship suddenly disappeared without a trace, crew and all.
Four years later, Dayton and two members of the ship's crew suddenly turned up on Theti 3, more dead than alive and completely changed (details about her four in-between years are classified).
For reasons also classified Dayton became transferred to FMOPS [Federation Military Operations] where she fit surprisingly well, worked her way up and eventually became promoted as captain of the ship, the Chief Cochise, that mainly handles more discreet operations requested by Federation members in full agreement with the United Federation of Planets treaty.
Captain Melanie D. Dayton had now been commanding the Chief Cochise for ten years.
"Any supplemental questions?"
Chakotay's head jerked at the sudden voice that appeared so close to him. He looked up to find what his subconsciousness already knew: that his CO had arrived and was staring at him and his diligence with a big grin plastered on her face. She looked quite relaxed in a gold suit and one might have thought that she was simply there to enjoy a drink were it not for the PADD stuck under her arm.
Chakotay relaxed visibly.
"An interesting story - with some interesting holes."
She winked at him as she sat down on the offered chair.
"You said it. I guess we're a match in that direction ...... BAXTER!!!"
The last word was yelled to draw the attention of the bartender, a tall, skinny Altarian dude that looked as if nothing and no one could move him less than bothersome customers.
"Right?"
"The house's poison, strong Belzak coffee - and give him whatever he had before."
"I didn't have anything," Chakotay got in sideways, his tone bone-dry, "I never managed to get hold of the waiter."
"Figures - you have to have a mean voice, Commander - what's your preference?"
"A cup of herb tea, please?"
Dayton raised an eyebrow, but offered no comment. Baxter trotted off to execute the orders ... at some point with the captain's warning salute to tail his butt.
"Make sure we get it before the team has to leave in three days, Baxter - translation: MOVE IT!!!!"
Baxter moved his feet faster with an increased rate of exactly 0.00056 second.
"Is he always like this?" the ex-Maquis asked in pure wonder.
"Oh no! Usually he's a lot slower."
The joke was an old one, but it was delivered so deadpan and so unexpected that Commander Chakotay broke down with laughter as soon as he was done picking up his jaw from the floor.
The captain let him recover from his hiccups, smiled affably and then turned business like.
"Well, I have your file right here with me - and I DO have some questions."
"Shoot." Chakotay said, warm with laughter and completely relaxed.
And so she shot with the impressively accurate aim of a prime marksman, hitting one target after the other, bringing home all the bulls eyes. Dead-on questions about how he ended up by Janeway's side, what the blanks on some of the logs were about, details on their dispute on the 'Scorpion' mission, questions as to why the hell Janeway was allowed to run around on stray planets most of the time.
And Chakotay answered it all, more in surprise than in respect.
She then leaned back with a content sigh.
"Good!" she said, "I'm glad - I hate blank points between CO's - don't you?"
He had to admit that he did. Working in the blind with Janeway had been frustrating at best.
The tall woman leaned forward and slapped him heartily on his broad back.
"Of course, Rome wasn't built in one day. We will have to look each other over in the time to come - and you will have to familiarise yourself with my ... colourful crew as well. It won't be easy, Commander."
Chakotay tilted his head in a 'life sucks' gesture.
"Whoever promised us an easy life?"
She flashed her wolfy smile at him.
"I like you already, First," she said and then turned to give Baxter an overhaul on his tardiness. They had been waiting for 30 minutes.
When they rose and left, Dayton turned and delivered one last blow to the obnoxious bartender:
"You know, Baxter, one walks by actually putting one foot in front of the other - did you KNOW that?"
"Spirits," Chakotay whispered to her on their way out, "I hope your mess hall attendant is a little more attentive than that."
"That would be Rosie." Dayton informed him, "You'll meet her soon - she's your mother."
"My what?"
"You'll see."
When they split at the junction to go back to their respective quarters, Chakotay halted her with one last question:
"Oh - just one thing..."
"Yeah?"
"What would you preferred to be called?"
The reply was prompt.
"The crew call me Cap when I'm in an ear's shot and D-Day when I'm not. My firsts usually call me Cap on official duty and otherwise 'Mel'.
Chakotay nodded, stunned.
It had taken him two years to be allowed to call Janeway 'Kathryn'.
*
Mel had taken her 'poison' with her when she left the mess hall, and she was still carrying it in her hands when she entered Commodore Welch's officer.
Not for the first time was she struck by the man's intense personality and the way it was mirrored in his private belongings. On the standard Starfleet shelves lay odd random items that he had picked up here and there. Much of it was from Earth, mostly ethnic charms and decoration each with a story of its own, each with colour and warmth that seemed to radiate and offer the cold sterile design of the room the heart it needed. On the farther wall two tapestries with two eskimo drumming boys from Greenland were adorning the dull off-white surface, and on the nearer wall long necklaces of Native American beads were spread out to graciously pour out their colours and character.
Mel liked the commodore.
But she wasn't fooled by him.
As amiable and teddybear-like the big man could be, just as cold and hard could he behave in confrontation with crisis. He was a veritable chameleon.
Mel Dayton was almost his complete opposite. With her one got what one saw. That fact often shortened suddenly arisen problems dramatically. Prospective foes simply backed off before they came too far.
That's why she was good to have as front spear, Welch decided. Bombing fodder, as it was called in the old days with conventional weapons.
"So what do you think?" he started without preamble. She took a seat on her own initiative, the two of them being so old friends that she didn't have to wait for him to offer it. She then took time to sip her drink before answering him.
"Promising," came the verdict.
Mel Dayton never spoke out too soon. That was one of the things Welch liked about her. Yet today he felt eager to know more.
"How promising?"
She looked up from the rim of the glass in surprise.
"What? You want rating? You know I don't do that."
The big bear shrugged his massive shoulders. Such an interesting effect it had
"I'm just curious. Do you suppose he will fit in?"
The slim woman sighed and leaned back into the broad comfy chair. God, it felt good after that damn drill.
"It's really much too early to say, Bob. Despite his prior history and experience, I still have a feeling that he's in for a big surprise. Yet, I also sense that he has what it takes to eventually adapt."
The commodore smiled the smile of a satisfied bear who has just found the perfect hive with the sweetest honey.
"That's all I need to know, Mel - now the rest is up to you."
"Ain't it always?" she murmured and gulped down the rest of the drink.
*
The next day the entire crew of the Chief Cochise met for a final evaluation of the drill they had just executed and for updating news, orders and new crew members, amongst others, of course, the ship's new first officer.
Storage Hall 3 had been cleared for their purpose only. As the Chief Cochise was still undergoing extensive repairs, her crew still had to arrange their activities to take place at the station. It didn't matter much - except for the new first officer who still hadn't had a chance to see the ship up close.
Commander Chakotay stood at Captain Dayton's left side a bit back like he always had with Captain Janeway and let his eyes sweep over the assembled crew of his new ship.
'Colourful' the captain had said. 'Colourful' didn't begin to describe it.
The crew of the Chief Cochise consisted of 8 Vulcans, 6 Andorians, 4 Betazoids, 15 Saurians, 34 Humans, 11 Bolians, 5 Klingons, 2 Hortas, 7 Deltans, 1 Cardassian?? (impossible), 12 Bajorans, 3 Trills ... and 1 person of completely unknown origin (at least according to his tricorder). A crew complement of 94.
Chakotay shook his head inwardly. How did the captain manage to keep track of these very different species?
"I'll explain later," Mel's voice muttered in his ear and abruptly dragged him out of his contemplative mood. He almost jumped, slightly disturbed by the fact that this woman could read him like a book before she even got to know him.
The crew greeted their boss with a loud cheer and the commander now expected her full voice to bellow 'QUIET'. She didn't. Instead she walked down into their midst??? and held her hand up to receive 'high fives'???
Stunned he followed her in her tracks, though he kept his hand to himself.
Mel Dayton lifted her hands and indicated that she would now prefer silence. Immediately the crowd simmered down and she began without fussing.
"Okay, guys. Today's programme: evaluation of our recent drill, briefing on our next assignment, introduction of new crew members."
The crew sat down on whatever was available and Mel located a storage box that seemed appropriate. Chakotay, still somewhat confused, sat down on a barrel of something unidentified.
"Mallennie Millie, take it away," the captain said, nodding at a Bajoran female who boldly and without hesitation stepped forward. Chakotay tensed. She looked a little like Seska in her Bajoran disguise, long dark hair, pointy nose, upswept upper lip and dimples. Damn.
However, her voice was quite different. A little low and somewhat male. Her precision in summing up the drill was admirably precise, worthy of the accuracy of a Vulcan.
When she had finished, Mel Dayton leaned forward and cut through the dense atmosphere of the hall with a fitting comment that might as well have been a sharp knife:
"That was what was supposed to have happened - now, let's hear what really happened."
The person of unidentified species stepped forward and started laying out the main points of the executed drill and Chakotay noticed the anomalies immediately. This crew had been subjected to several surprises in the programme.
Chakotay also noticed the speaker. The first officer cocked his head and scrutinised the man - the being? - more closely. He looked human. He looked extremely human. A tall, lean man with smooth facial lines, brown eyes, tawny and curly hair, Greek nose and broad forehead. Then, why did his tricorder run amok when he tried to consult its readings?
"I'll tell you about him later too," Mel suddenly whispered.
Damn.
How did she do that? Was he really that transparent?
The reports had been given. The hall was quiet.
Finally the captain rose and slowly walked into the centre of the crowd.
"Okay." She squared her shoulders, "so where did we go wrong?"
A Vulcan of medium height and of surprisingly fair complexion rose. Mel nodded at her.
"You presented us with surprises that we did not manage to adapt to."
Short and accurate.
"Specifics," Mel requested. Also short and accurate.
"Moments A, C, G, and H went within acceptable parameters. Moments B, D, E, and F turned out with unsatisfactory results."
Mel turned to survey the rest of the crew.
"Now what state would we have been in had this been for real?"
The entire crew rose and to Chakotay's immense surprise roared:
"Dumb, damned and dead!"
Mel nodded pensively, looking down. When she looked up again, her face was steel.
"I don't want to lose any of you. In fact, I love you people so damn much that I want drills round the clock for two days, beginning tomorrow at 0700 hrs. That will leave you one day of relaxation before we take off again and we will all survive if ever put in a situation like the one we just drilled. Any questions?"
The crowd was silent. No cheers, but no sulking either.
Then Mel Dayton's countenance changed completely. She flashed a very charming smile at her men and drew out a PADD, stuffed, Chakotay knew, with information on their next assignment.
"You will no doubt be dancing with delight to know that our next assignment will be a piece of cake... a least on paper... so to speak."
Relaxed laughter. The unfortunate drill was already about to be forgotten.
Their next caper was freeing a senator on Sigma 5. Apparently he had been captured by extremists from the planet, Ethnara, whose president herself had asked the Federation to strike down her countrymen and free the Sigmarian senator. All diplomatic options had apparently been exhausted and the extremists had given their home world and Sigma 5 one week to grant them their wishes: complete reorganisation of the Ethnaran government and the execution of all politicians.
"We have four days to come up with, drill and perform an OP that will free the senator with the lowest possible body count. I already have all available info on the job and research, all I need now is a session with my COs. The rest of you drill on - and don't forget to let me know if you have some out- or insider info on the situation on Sigma 5 that I don't."
Chakotay blinked. She encouraged the crew to offer her ideas and information???
The captain straightened and sat down again. Her smile was all affable and relaxed, and her amber eyes sparkled with teasing delight. The last point on the agenda was in front of her.
"And now... new crew members."
The crew reacted with big smiles, shifting their weight, and eyes were invariably drawn to two tripping persons, who weren't quite sure what to do with themselves.
"Ensign John Mastodonati and Lieutenant H'tkar Ish - step forward."
A Human male and a Saurian female hesitantly approached the centre of the circle.
Mel cleared her voice.
"And Commander Chakotay."
The first officer looked at her in surprise. Him? Out there? With the two others? She steeled her eyes. Spirits, she actually meant it.
The big man stepped into the circle with very tentative steps while he goofily smiled and nodded at the two other victims.
"Troop - atteeeenTION!" their captain barked.
All three automatically stood attention, straight on line. With deliberately slow steps Melanie Dayton then inspected the line, occasionally brushing off an invisible speckle of dust on a shoulder or straightened a crooked sleeve or collar. Finally she stopped in front of them.
"Commander Chakotay, Ensign John Mastodonati and Lieutenant H'tkar Ish. You are hereby activated as members of the meanest, leanest and keenest fighting machine in the Federation. Congratulations. Tonight I leave you in the conscientious care of my men, who will make sure that you get introduced to all our ways, traditions and odd perversions. Men... " she turned to face the rest of the crew, " ...they are all yours."
And the three defenceless soldiers were attacked and abducted by a crowd of howling homicidal madmen- and women completely beyond control.
As Chakotay was carried away by the horde, he swore by his ancestors that he would get back at his new captain for not warning him of this horrible assault. That is... if he survived the night.
*
Mel was met by Myth as she left the hall. He caught up with her easily and didn't speak a word until they entered the turbo lift.
"You think that was wise?" Myth asked.
Mel regarded her invaluable tactical officer. He seldom said anything about the crew to her.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"If he cracks - how would we find a new first officer this close to the caper?"
"Better now than during the OP. We could pull it off without a new first officer," Mel said calmly. Myth shrugged, his slender shoulders describing a graceful curve. He couldn't argue with that.
"You didn't tell him about me, did you?"
"No. He was sure puzzled by the tricorder readings." She chuckled.
"Why didn't you?"
They left the lift, both striding along with long steps.
"If he bails out, I don't want him to be a liability - somebody outside our crew that knows about you."
Again, Myth couldn't argue with her wisdom. He stopped at his own room and she proceeded to hers. Without turning she told him one last instruction:
"Keep an eye on him and our crew's eagerness. Let me know your opinion later tonight - I value it."
Myth nodded. He knew that of the entire crew the cap relied on him the most.
The realisation made the heart he didn't have swell with pride.
Meanwhile the crew of the Chief Cochise was in full swing with the initiation of the three new crew members. They had pushed and pulled them all to the station's holodeck and had programmed a programme with wild horses, all designed to thoroughly throw off anybody that was foolhardy enough to attempt mounting and/or riding them. Bets were on faster than warp speed. Since Commander Chakotay was a Native American, odds that he would remain sitting more than 3 minutes were high. They strapped the poor man to the back a particularly vicious looking stallion whose sole purpose in life appeared to be having Starfleet commanders for lunch. The first officer closed his eyes, sent his sincere prayers to all the spirits he knew off and 1½ minutes later made a minority of the hooting crew very rich and happy.
The big man picked himself up from the dust. Suited them right to go with old-fashioned prejudice.
The festive activities of the night proceeded. After the eager crew had fed the three unfortunate crewmen with the most disgusting, alien dishes, which they had to catch and kill first, the Vulcans were asked to dress the two men out like women and the woman out like a man as accurately as possible. With conscientious precision they carried out the assignment to perfection that anyone entering the holodeck at that time, might truly have taken the three victims for their opposite genders. One of the pointy eared aliens even saw fit to curl the commander's hair and adorn it with little red ribbons.
How can Vulcans of all people go along with this?? the commander thought desperately.
Stunt followed stunt and to the commander's consternation, he didn't know any of them in advance. The spirits knew that he had had his share at the Academy, but these gags seemed constructed solely by and for this sick crew, he was sure. In fact, he wouldn't be at all surprised if the chief architect behind them turned out to be the captain herself.
The door to the deck swooshed open and let in the odd specimen that made tricorders go wild. Chakotay had time to briefly wonder where the mystery man had been before being grabbed for some strange performance. Now, that the three men were so cutely dressed up, the crew decided they had to deliver a song and a dance.
The Saurian was apparently getting into the mood. She started singing a good, old-fashioned, intergalactic battle song that everybody knew, including the commander, and the whole bunch was soon singing along utterly out of key.
Then they started dancing. Chakotay found to his immense surprise that he danced with them. The Italian with the odd name voluntarily mooned everybody and the Saurian performed a very interesting splits that split her costume if nothing else.
And Chakotay laughed.
And laughed.
The crew laughed with him, and he was carried away for new stunts.
And all the time the unidentified crewman stood silently in a corner, smiling to himself, his gentle eyes never leaving the three new seamen.
When night came, Chakotay had forgotten about him. He found himself more busy telling these new colleagues all about himself, his adventures and experience and afterwards listening to the stories of his new friends and subordinates. The setting of the deck was now a campfire on Delta 6, the home world of the Deltan, who had insisted that this would be perfect for story telling.
And it was. Chakotay came to meet his immediate subordinate, Dayton's third and science officer, the Bajoran, Mallennie Millie, and he stopped comparing her to Seska. He heard about her escape from a Cardassian prison, how she had hauled Gul Betak with her and introduced him to Dayton, who had liked him so much that he was now running Astrometrics. He shared an Andorian beer with Eclatar, the ship's pilot, who told him that the short, plump chief engineer, Josh Abraham, was known as "The Ape", because he was so agile that he practically crawled on his engines to make them work. And they did.
Despite activated holo-security the commander had strained his knee, which was immediately taken care of by T'Rees, the Vulcan chief medical officer, who commanded her sickbay with the precision indigenous to her species. Her almost complete contrast could be found in the ship's chief security officer, Lt. Masomo Rwani from Tanzania, who was perhaps the tallest, broadest and most personable and spontaneous security officer Chakotay had ever encountered.
In short, Chakotay was introduced to everybody (except the mystic non-species being), and they were introduced to him.
When the commander crept into his bed that night (as soon as he had got the jelly beans out of his hair), he knew that he would be sleeping like a new-born baby.
Perhaps he wouldn't get back at his captain right away.
It could wait.
He had time.
*
Her beeper rang her just as she was entering her second REM sleep. Very drowsy and almost completely engulfed in dreams, she was forced to resurface to answer the hail.
"What?" Melanie Dayton growled into the comlink.
"Myth here. You wanted to be notified about my opinion later this night."
Mel bit back a furious reply. Myth knew exactly what to say to disarm her rage.
"Then let me have it."
Myth smiled in the other end. They always played a little trick on their cap after an evening like this. Myth was only happy to oblige his fellow crew members' wish.
"The commander bonded quite nicely. We have our new first officer."
"Very well," she grumbled, "remind me to kick your bloody bucket with you in it into null space one of these days," she added evilly.
The last thing she heard before she cut the link was Myth's clear, pearly laughter. She smiled.
She had always liked the man... or whatever one would call a being like that.
On to Part 2
