Christening
Summary: Q transports Seven, Janeway, Paris, Torres, Chakotay, and the Doctor to a planet reminiscent of Medieval Earth. The dominant religion called "the Way" arrests Seven as a "witch", and sentences her to death. The officers must work together to save Seven and escape.
Notice: This is my first fanfic so please don't kill me. As you can see, I've spent a lot of time in the first chapter just getting the hang of the characters. Please let me know what you think, and especially feel free to tell me if you think I have a character all wrong. Thanks!
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: Voyager and all characters, names, titles, etc. used in the following short story. In other words, this story is worth less than the memory it takes up because the cool stuff isn't mine.
Chapter One: An Ordinary Day
"Regeneration cycle complete," the Computer bleeped.
Seven of Nine's eyes popped open. Without thinking, she stepped out of her alcove. Two long strides brought her to her computer interface, where she began her morning log entry.
"Computer, continue recording personal log of Seven of Nine tertiary adjunct of unimatrix zero-one. Stardate 5240.2. I've just awakened from a very restful regeneration. I continue to dream of my parents. The Doctor has suggested that my dreams are a result of the fact that I "miss" these unfamiliar individuals. I'm not sure how I should desire the company of beings of which I have very few memories. My duties this morning include finishing the astrometric survey of the Cryton Nebula, assisting Lieutenant Torres with warp core alignments, tutoring Naomi Wildman in basic algebra, and a singing lesson with the Doctor. End log entry."
Seven stared at the interface for a moment. She felt her shoulders relax slightly. Her first daily task was complete. Five more long strides brought her to the cargo bay door, which opened obediently and closed as she stepped out into the hallway, now teaming with crewmen on the way to duty shifts. She turned right toward the turbo-lift that would take her to Astrometrics
Lieutenant B'Elana Torres Paris groaned as a spritely song interrupted her heavy sleep. "Lalalalalala-Lalalalala," the miniscule voices sang in a high- pitched fugue. The Chief Engineer sighed. Her husband had awakened early to watch cartoons on his ancient television set. At full volume no less.
"Computer, time," she demanded groggily.
"O-six-eleven hours," the computer replied dryly.
B'Elana heaved another sigh and rolled over. The tiny voices had now begun conversation. She wondered briefly why she had replicated that device for Tom in the first place. Then she remembered with a small smile that she found his interest in history and ancient entertainment a very fun and lovable trait. Slowly she sat up and swung her legs to dangle over the side of the bed. The sudden action triggered her morning sickness, and she ran to the bathroom.
The tiny voices were shouting and crying out as the Lieutenant finally lifted her head from the sink. She wet a towel and wiped her face clean. Looking in the mirror, she placed her hand lovingly on her swelling abdomen. The doctor predicted only another few days of sickness. She could handle it until then, for her baby's sake. She thanked her lucky stars she'd asked Seven of Nine to help out in engineering that afternoon. She'd need help after such an early, rude beginning to her day.
"Cinnamon-bun, cold," Tom heard his wife command the replicator. He turned to see her standing by the console. As if by instict, she turned to face him, and his eyebrows went up in an inquiring expression. "And another, hot," she added. She all but glided over to him, plates in hand, her rounded torso preceding her. The helmsman kissed his wife as she sat down on the sofa and handed him a steaming pastry.
"Feeling better, honey?" he asked with genuine concern.
"Much better than yesterday, thanks. The Smurf's again?" she commented, her voice betraying a slight bit of amusement.
"You're getting pretty good at twentieth-century cartoons," Tom smiled back. He realized she'd changed the subject, but he didn't feel like fighting her pride this morning. Her condition had troubled him for the past couple of weeks.
"Tom, your shift doesn't begin for almost an hour," B'Elana stated. "This is the third time you've been up early this week. The captain let you have a later shift so you spend more time with me in the mornings," she almost pouted, cuddling up to her husband.
Tom placed a reassuring arm about her shoulders. "I'm anxious to see what happens to Smurfette," he laughed, "Aren't you?" He couldn't tell his wife that the stress of her morning sickness led him to rise early and seek relaxation with cartoons. That would land him in the doghouse until she was feeling better. She'd already confided in him this morning, he wouldn't push his luck. Major communication with B'Elana was best done in small portions.
B'Elana turned her attention to the small, blue creature with blond hair dangling above a pot of boiling water, a cat circling below. She sighed. "I'm not due in sickbay until O-nine-hundred. I suppose I could watch for awhile."
"That's the spirit," Tom encouraged her. He drew her close as he put his sticky bun in his mouth with his free hand. He decided that this would be a good day.
Kathryn Janeway rushed around her quarters. She straightened the books on her coffee table and righted the cushions on her sofa. She power walked to the dining table and rechecked the place settings. Bread plates, forks, spoons, bowls, juice glasses, flowers… a crimson splash of Vulcan tulips. Two days of replicator rations had gone into the small centerpiece. She wanted this breakfast to be prefect. She'd replicated the napkins just the right shade of red to match the flowers. It was just the hue that Chakotay favored. She surveyed the table with satisfaction. This morning would be wonderful, despite the slightly burned toast and liquid quiche.
She glanced at the old fashioned digital timepiece on the coffee table. O'seven-hundred hours. She'd have to get dressed quickly. Chakotay was due at O-seven-thirty, and he was never late.
The sonic shower was more relaxing than Voyager's captain had remembered. She'd never really noticed how much she looked forward to her morning showers. As Captain, she had very little time to herself. Or time alone with the people I care about, she thought with a sigh. But this morning would be different. This was a morning for just her and her best friend to eat breakfast, talk, and laugh. She wasn't due on the bridge until O-nine-hundred hours. She made a conscious decision that she would not talk with Chakotay about ship business this morning. She wanted it all to be casual, friendly conversation. Sighing contentedly, Kathryn sank back into the sonic shower.
"Good morning, Commander!" the Doctor chortled over the intercom. Chakotay grabbed his com badge and stuffed it under the other pillow on his double bed. Suddenly, the thought occurred to him that he'd asked the doctor to wake him in time for his breakfast with Kathryn.
Sitting up, he pulled the badge out from under the pillow. "I'm sorry doctor," he said rubbing his eyes, "A good morning to you. Thank you for calling."
"I am a doctor, not an alarm clock, but I try my best," the Doctor continued, obviously annoyed. "You'll be glad to know you have half an hour before your meeting with the Captain, just as you'd requested. Have a good time, Commander, and don't hesitate to ask for my services after breakfast if need be." With that the Doctor signed off.
Chakotay chuckled quietly as he stood and walked toward the lavatory. He understood the Doctor's comment had been a joke, but he carefully stored the information in the back of his mind. Kathryn was not the best cook, and one could never be too sure what surprises awaited a guest at her table.
When the sonic shower ended, the Commander promptly exited the bathroom and headed for his closet. He pulled out a clean uniform, then stepped back and thought. He found his com badge amongst his covers. "Chakotay to the Captain," he said tapping the badge lightly.
"Janeway here," came the reply. He smiled. Her normally stoic voice betrayed a hint of excitement on this particular morning.
"I was wondering what you planned to wear this morning, Kathryn," he said, using her first name gently.
The voice came back just as gently, a rare occurrence. "I thought casual dress would be best this morning… Chakotay," Kathryn said, returning the friendly favor.
"The Captain always knows best," Chakotay smiled, "See you in a few minutes. Chakotay out." The com clicked off. The first officer pulled on a blue cotton t-shirt, and put his com badge into the pocket of his khaki Bermuda shorts. He surveyed himself in the closet door mirror. To casual? No, not for breakfast with his best friend.
Lieutenant Torres at O-nine-hundred, Naomi Wildman at O-nine-thirty, Ensign Lynch at Ten-hundred, the Doctor checked his appointments for the day. He wasn't sure why he was in such a good mood this morning, after all he'd just played alarm clock for the first officer. But somehow, he found himself whistling as he went about downloading his appointments into his tricorder for reference throughout the day.
As he hummed the melody to "You are my Sunshine," he remembered why this particular day was so wonderful. He had a singing lesson scheduled with Seven of Nine for that evening. The tricorder finished downloading and the doctor stood. He hummed "Greensleeves" as he arranged hyposprays on the medical cart. Suddenly, the door burst open and Ensign Kim came running into sickbay. He was wearing a silver down coat and powder pants. Skiing goggles were dangling from his neck.
"What seems to be the problem, Ensign?" the doctor asked, a raised eyebrow indicating his surprise at the hasty entrance and mysterious attire.
"Doc, the Downhill Skiing program…*gasp*… in Holodeck Two… *gasp*… is going haywire again. *wheeze* The lifts are moving over 10 kph… *gasp*… and people are twisting their ankles all over the place…*wheeze*," the Ensign breathed heavily.
Wonderful, an eventful morning, the Doctor thought bitterly. "Computer, reactivate safety protocols on Holodeck Two authorization Doctor-Beta-Tango and transfer the Emergency Medical Holographic program to that location."
"Safeties reengaged. Transferring Emergency Medical Hologram."
Summary: Q transports Seven, Janeway, Paris, Torres, Chakotay, and the Doctor to a planet reminiscent of Medieval Earth. The dominant religion called "the Way" arrests Seven as a "witch", and sentences her to death. The officers must work together to save Seven and escape.
Notice: This is my first fanfic so please don't kill me. As you can see, I've spent a lot of time in the first chapter just getting the hang of the characters. Please let me know what you think, and especially feel free to tell me if you think I have a character all wrong. Thanks!
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: Voyager and all characters, names, titles, etc. used in the following short story. In other words, this story is worth less than the memory it takes up because the cool stuff isn't mine.
Chapter One: An Ordinary Day
"Regeneration cycle complete," the Computer bleeped.
Seven of Nine's eyes popped open. Without thinking, she stepped out of her alcove. Two long strides brought her to her computer interface, where she began her morning log entry.
"Computer, continue recording personal log of Seven of Nine tertiary adjunct of unimatrix zero-one. Stardate 5240.2. I've just awakened from a very restful regeneration. I continue to dream of my parents. The Doctor has suggested that my dreams are a result of the fact that I "miss" these unfamiliar individuals. I'm not sure how I should desire the company of beings of which I have very few memories. My duties this morning include finishing the astrometric survey of the Cryton Nebula, assisting Lieutenant Torres with warp core alignments, tutoring Naomi Wildman in basic algebra, and a singing lesson with the Doctor. End log entry."
Seven stared at the interface for a moment. She felt her shoulders relax slightly. Her first daily task was complete. Five more long strides brought her to the cargo bay door, which opened obediently and closed as she stepped out into the hallway, now teaming with crewmen on the way to duty shifts. She turned right toward the turbo-lift that would take her to Astrometrics
Lieutenant B'Elana Torres Paris groaned as a spritely song interrupted her heavy sleep. "Lalalalalala-Lalalalala," the miniscule voices sang in a high- pitched fugue. The Chief Engineer sighed. Her husband had awakened early to watch cartoons on his ancient television set. At full volume no less.
"Computer, time," she demanded groggily.
"O-six-eleven hours," the computer replied dryly.
B'Elana heaved another sigh and rolled over. The tiny voices had now begun conversation. She wondered briefly why she had replicated that device for Tom in the first place. Then she remembered with a small smile that she found his interest in history and ancient entertainment a very fun and lovable trait. Slowly she sat up and swung her legs to dangle over the side of the bed. The sudden action triggered her morning sickness, and she ran to the bathroom.
The tiny voices were shouting and crying out as the Lieutenant finally lifted her head from the sink. She wet a towel and wiped her face clean. Looking in the mirror, she placed her hand lovingly on her swelling abdomen. The doctor predicted only another few days of sickness. She could handle it until then, for her baby's sake. She thanked her lucky stars she'd asked Seven of Nine to help out in engineering that afternoon. She'd need help after such an early, rude beginning to her day.
"Cinnamon-bun, cold," Tom heard his wife command the replicator. He turned to see her standing by the console. As if by instict, she turned to face him, and his eyebrows went up in an inquiring expression. "And another, hot," she added. She all but glided over to him, plates in hand, her rounded torso preceding her. The helmsman kissed his wife as she sat down on the sofa and handed him a steaming pastry.
"Feeling better, honey?" he asked with genuine concern.
"Much better than yesterday, thanks. The Smurf's again?" she commented, her voice betraying a slight bit of amusement.
"You're getting pretty good at twentieth-century cartoons," Tom smiled back. He realized she'd changed the subject, but he didn't feel like fighting her pride this morning. Her condition had troubled him for the past couple of weeks.
"Tom, your shift doesn't begin for almost an hour," B'Elana stated. "This is the third time you've been up early this week. The captain let you have a later shift so you spend more time with me in the mornings," she almost pouted, cuddling up to her husband.
Tom placed a reassuring arm about her shoulders. "I'm anxious to see what happens to Smurfette," he laughed, "Aren't you?" He couldn't tell his wife that the stress of her morning sickness led him to rise early and seek relaxation with cartoons. That would land him in the doghouse until she was feeling better. She'd already confided in him this morning, he wouldn't push his luck. Major communication with B'Elana was best done in small portions.
B'Elana turned her attention to the small, blue creature with blond hair dangling above a pot of boiling water, a cat circling below. She sighed. "I'm not due in sickbay until O-nine-hundred. I suppose I could watch for awhile."
"That's the spirit," Tom encouraged her. He drew her close as he put his sticky bun in his mouth with his free hand. He decided that this would be a good day.
Kathryn Janeway rushed around her quarters. She straightened the books on her coffee table and righted the cushions on her sofa. She power walked to the dining table and rechecked the place settings. Bread plates, forks, spoons, bowls, juice glasses, flowers… a crimson splash of Vulcan tulips. Two days of replicator rations had gone into the small centerpiece. She wanted this breakfast to be prefect. She'd replicated the napkins just the right shade of red to match the flowers. It was just the hue that Chakotay favored. She surveyed the table with satisfaction. This morning would be wonderful, despite the slightly burned toast and liquid quiche.
She glanced at the old fashioned digital timepiece on the coffee table. O'seven-hundred hours. She'd have to get dressed quickly. Chakotay was due at O-seven-thirty, and he was never late.
The sonic shower was more relaxing than Voyager's captain had remembered. She'd never really noticed how much she looked forward to her morning showers. As Captain, she had very little time to herself. Or time alone with the people I care about, she thought with a sigh. But this morning would be different. This was a morning for just her and her best friend to eat breakfast, talk, and laugh. She wasn't due on the bridge until O-nine-hundred hours. She made a conscious decision that she would not talk with Chakotay about ship business this morning. She wanted it all to be casual, friendly conversation. Sighing contentedly, Kathryn sank back into the sonic shower.
"Good morning, Commander!" the Doctor chortled over the intercom. Chakotay grabbed his com badge and stuffed it under the other pillow on his double bed. Suddenly, the thought occurred to him that he'd asked the doctor to wake him in time for his breakfast with Kathryn.
Sitting up, he pulled the badge out from under the pillow. "I'm sorry doctor," he said rubbing his eyes, "A good morning to you. Thank you for calling."
"I am a doctor, not an alarm clock, but I try my best," the Doctor continued, obviously annoyed. "You'll be glad to know you have half an hour before your meeting with the Captain, just as you'd requested. Have a good time, Commander, and don't hesitate to ask for my services after breakfast if need be." With that the Doctor signed off.
Chakotay chuckled quietly as he stood and walked toward the lavatory. He understood the Doctor's comment had been a joke, but he carefully stored the information in the back of his mind. Kathryn was not the best cook, and one could never be too sure what surprises awaited a guest at her table.
When the sonic shower ended, the Commander promptly exited the bathroom and headed for his closet. He pulled out a clean uniform, then stepped back and thought. He found his com badge amongst his covers. "Chakotay to the Captain," he said tapping the badge lightly.
"Janeway here," came the reply. He smiled. Her normally stoic voice betrayed a hint of excitement on this particular morning.
"I was wondering what you planned to wear this morning, Kathryn," he said, using her first name gently.
The voice came back just as gently, a rare occurrence. "I thought casual dress would be best this morning… Chakotay," Kathryn said, returning the friendly favor.
"The Captain always knows best," Chakotay smiled, "See you in a few minutes. Chakotay out." The com clicked off. The first officer pulled on a blue cotton t-shirt, and put his com badge into the pocket of his khaki Bermuda shorts. He surveyed himself in the closet door mirror. To casual? No, not for breakfast with his best friend.
Lieutenant Torres at O-nine-hundred, Naomi Wildman at O-nine-thirty, Ensign Lynch at Ten-hundred, the Doctor checked his appointments for the day. He wasn't sure why he was in such a good mood this morning, after all he'd just played alarm clock for the first officer. But somehow, he found himself whistling as he went about downloading his appointments into his tricorder for reference throughout the day.
As he hummed the melody to "You are my Sunshine," he remembered why this particular day was so wonderful. He had a singing lesson scheduled with Seven of Nine for that evening. The tricorder finished downloading and the doctor stood. He hummed "Greensleeves" as he arranged hyposprays on the medical cart. Suddenly, the door burst open and Ensign Kim came running into sickbay. He was wearing a silver down coat and powder pants. Skiing goggles were dangling from his neck.
"What seems to be the problem, Ensign?" the doctor asked, a raised eyebrow indicating his surprise at the hasty entrance and mysterious attire.
"Doc, the Downhill Skiing program…*gasp*… in Holodeck Two… *gasp*… is going haywire again. *wheeze* The lifts are moving over 10 kph… *gasp*… and people are twisting their ankles all over the place…*wheeze*," the Ensign breathed heavily.
Wonderful, an eventful morning, the Doctor thought bitterly. "Computer, reactivate safety protocols on Holodeck Two authorization Doctor-Beta-Tango and transfer the Emergency Medical Holographic program to that location."
"Safeties reengaged. Transferring Emergency Medical Hologram."