Infinite Possibility
Author's Note: Story is set in early season four, and is inspired, in part, by a year of reflection on MissParker's "No Time Like the Present."
I.
"I fail to see what fun, what satisfaction
A God can find in laughing at how badly
Men fumble at the possibilities
When left to guess forever for themselves."
-Job, Robert Frost's A Masque of Reason
As Kathryn Janeway glances between Chakotay and Paris, she feels the faint beginnings of a headache forming at the front of her head. Having been thrown clear of Borg territory, they're in a dull region of space right now. No one really to shoot at them, and all of the ship's crucial having been met.
They should feel grateful. But instead they're all bored and growing restless, Paris and Chakotay being the worst.
During busy weeks, things between her First Officer and helmsman are friendly, even warm; the two have worked out a little dance over the last three years.
The Commander feigns horror when the pilot makes an off color remark to the Captain, and Tom frequently leaves himself wide open for a barb that Chakotay always go for.
Tuvok sighs. Harry smiles. The Captain squeezes Tom's shoulder. Everyone has their choreographed part.
In slow weeks, however, the dance loses its rhythm; the two men find themselves, subtly and politely, at each others' throats. Chakotay looking for any reason to admonish the Lieutenant, and the pilot goading the Commander in ways that fail to rise to the level of verbal reproach.
The shift began with Tom sliding into his seat forty-five seconds late. Not enough for Chakotay to remark on without seeming petty, but enough to earn him a furrowed brow.
Janeway had inwardly sighed at the occurrence. Silently hoping that Tom was only returning the brief annoyance her First Officer caused him the previous day, having made a harsh crack about the pilot's inability to compensate for a slight distortion.
Now, six hours and an eternity into their shift, she's realized that the foul mood is here to stay for all of them.
Three hours ago, Chakotay ordered Paris to reduce their speed to warp four.
Tom dropped them to warp four point one.
An hour after that, she began bantering with Paris about their last pool match in Sandrine's. At which point the Commander remarked, with a little too much cheer, that come what may, they can always count on their Chief Conn Officer to be found at the nearest bar.
When Paris makes a smart aleck remark at Chakotay's expense, the Captain fights her urge to close her eyes in frustration. She can call the pilot out, of course, but doing so is in unfair. However past the line his behavior goes on days like this, it's always her First Officer who starts it- knowingly nudging the younger man past the bounds of propriety.
All she can do at this point is wait it out. Perhaps retreat into her ready room and the comforts of a steaming cup of coffee.
This last thought proves only a further rub. It's her presence on the bridge that restrains the two men from being even worse to one another, and there's no telling what will ensue if she leaves. She is forced to remain, watching them bicker, prod, and poke.
When she hears a patronizing if familiar voice beside her, coming from Chakotay's seat, it's just after she's sunk a little lower into her own chair.
"I wouldn't have thought you'd go for the whole brooding thing," the female Q remarks. "It's so hopelessly cliché."
Janeway stands up with a start, the entire bridge stirring to life with the appearance.
"What have you done with the Commander?" the Captain demands, noting that Chakotay is no where to be seen.
"Oh, calm down, Kathy. Your angry warrior is in the very capable hands of some Orion slave girls at the moment." Q adds, looking disdainful, "I'm sure the whole experience will be wasted on him, so don't worry that he's off having fun without you."
A stifled laugh is heard from the conn, and Janeway looks at Paris with a disapproving glare.
Q looks down at the helmsman, too, but with amusement and twinkling eyes.
"What is our current speed, helm boy?"
Tom rolls his eyes at the name, shifting his glance between Captain and then Q.
"Do I even need to answer that? You're omnipotent."
"Humor me," Q counters. "The way you humor Kathy here when you're trying to be a good boy for her."
He's thrown off by the statement at first. After a moment he narrows his eyes, replying with obvious rancor.
"Voyager is presently traveling at warp four point one."
"Interesting," Q murmurs. "I could have sworn the buffoon with the tattoo ordered you to reduce speed to warp four earlier."
Tom flushes at the comment. He was sure that his pettiness hadn't gone unnoticed by the Captain, but hearing it announced aloud on the bridge is entirely different than it being silently catalogued.
Q seems amused at his embarrassment for only an instant, her expression morphing into one of disappointment.
"You have such delightfully petulant impulses. And you ruin them with guilt. How tragically and predictably human."
As Q tsks at Tom's growing discomfort, Janeway feels her ire reaching a boiling point.
"Q, return Commander Chakotay this instant!"
Getting up from Chakotay's seat, Q strolls down to the conn, seeming to ignore Janeway's angry declaration.
"The bridge is more fun without him, isn't it?" Q asks, leaning against the helm and looking down at Tom.
There any number of ways Tom could answer her truthfully. One of them being to agree with her.
"The Commander is an important officer and a good man. You should return him."
His characterization of Chakotay sounds sincere, and Q visibly deflates. Disappointed, perhaps, that he really thinks this.
"Q," the Captain begins again, but Q cuts her off with a dismissive wave before snapping her fingers.
When Chakotay reappears, he's back in his chair. But without his uniform, and in a garment that looks suspiciously like a loin cloth.
It's unclear who is more embarrassed by his state of undress; the Captain or the Commander.
"I'm not sure which of you is more disappointing," Q begins, her eyes trailing down Chakotay's body and stopping at the loin cloth. "You. . . or you."
As she finishes her statement, she turns to Tom, who looks back at her skeptically.
"Me?" he prods. "Disappointing? Doesn't one need to have expectations for someone to disappoint them?"
Q smiles sweetly, crossing her arms as she leans in as though sharing a secret.
"I do have expectations of you," she confides. "You're the amusing one after all. . . The only one who can get her to loosen up."
She gestures slightly to Janeway with her head at the word 'her', and Tom can see his Captain tense out of the corner of his eye.
"Q," the Captain begins, putting weight in her voice, "we do not have time for these distractions right now."
Q scoffs.
"Please! You're desperate for distraction. And I can understand why. You're all so obsessed with getting back to that insignificant little solar system that you never take the time to do anything enjoyable."
The Captain draws herself up at Q's words, and Tom shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Wishing the object of Janeway's ire wasn't in such close physical proximity to his own, decidedly mortal, flesh.
"It's always the same with you, Kathy. Set a course for Earth. Stop to protect this species; catalogue that anomaly; try to not to get blown up by such-and-such hostile race. . . Repeat." Q pauses, looking at Paris. "It's all very tiresome, isn't it?"
Tom looks at the omnipotent being skeptically.
"And that's why you're here," he questions slowly, "to bring a little fun into our otherwise boring mortal lives?"
"Why not," Q beams, "when you creatures are the reason I have my darling son?"
The pilot glances at Janeway hesitantly, the Captain taking in a deep breath. At Ops, Harry Kim privately wonders if she's counting backwards from ten.
"Q," the Captain begins, "we appreciate your interest, but what we'd like is to get under way. . . So, remembering your fondness for us. . . would you be so kind us at to quit our bridge?"
To everyone's surprise, Q smiles serenely, standing up from her perch at the helm.
"Of course," Q demurs. "All you had to do was ask nicely, Kathy."
With a twist of her wrist, Q disappears. And with her, Paris and Janeway.