Title: Present bearings
Category: TV Shows » StarTrek: Voyager
Author: HalfjeFijnVolkoren
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Published: 12-01-13, Updated: 12-17-13
Chapters: 13, Words: 36,732

Status: Complete

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Day 1

I've forgotten my dream. Too bad, I think it was a good dream. It's okay though -she smells nice. Very nice even. Perhaps it wasn't even a dream, perhaps it was that drowsy state between sleeping and being awake. I take a deep breath and its only now that I move that I feel her warm skin on mine. I squirm in an attempt to thoroughly enjoy the lazy softness of the bed and the warmth of her body as I bury myself deep under the duvet. The movement leaves my chest tickled - I realise her hair is spread across my torso. I'm reluctant to awaken, this bed is more comfortable than my bed back on the ship. And thank heavens; no snoring. My unadjusted eyes open one at a time and my right hand struggles to coordinate my fingers towards the thick curls on my bare chest. I force my sight to sharpen and as the pitch black hairlocks finally come into focus I try to remember her name; Sarah, Sophie? I close my eyes. Five more minutes. Just five more minutes.

"Elena!"

Adrenaline rushes through my veins and my muscles tense. A loud banging is almost causing the authentic bedroomdoor to buckle. Right... Elena. How could I forget? I wipe the sleep from my eyes and with my fingers still digging at both sides of the bridge of my nose I see she has already put on a silk kimono.

"Mio Caro! I'm coming! Uno momento!" She yells in the general direction of the door.

I sit up to watch her running around the room while frantically picking up my things. Her long hair falls down her shoulder at every piece of clothing she picks up from the floor and is flipped back as she adresses me with rushed words of passion. "Chakotay, dearest, you must leave," I nod foolishly, still somewhat displeased with my sudden consciousness. "I shall never forget you, you understand me like no other.." For a moment she looses herself in a look of longing but she soon recovers at another series of loud bangs.

"Pronto!" She tosses me my clothes and opens a sliding door. The sound of screeching seagulls fills the bright room and a salty breeze chills my bare neck and shoulders.

I struggle to release myself from a rumpled sheet and stumble out of the luxurious bed. Her elegant handgestures make up for all the grace I lack.

"Say you will contact me soon, mio caro.."

She looks at me with a pale, genuine face. Armed with high cheekbones and large eyes her face could disarm any man. The beauty mark above her bloodred lips moves as she speaks with the fire only a woman of Italian herritage can possess.

"Elena! Let me in!" The door stands brave now but will soon dwindle under her husbands muffled pounding.

Not bothering with briefs I clumsily manage to pull up my brown pants and with one leg already outside the door I gently readjust the robe that had slid off her shoulder. She inhales sharply as I slightly caress her collarbone in the process.

"Promise me you will not forget me." Thick black eyebrows curl together as she pleads.

I collect her slender hand and brush my lips against her palm just above the wrist as I whisper "It´s true what they say about Italian women," I lean in close to her ear as I continue, "how could you not be a constant distraction?" Just as I turn away the bedroomdoor gives in to the hurricane that is her husband. I can still hear her sigh in response to my dubious compliment as I'm standing on a deck and only now realise that I'm on a boat.

I take a few decisive strides towards the stern before I jump over the railing and onto a wooden boarding plank. I don't quite find my balance but in my momentum I somehow manage to reach the pier. My sockless feet no longer seem to fit my leather boots and as I'm struggling to squeeze them in I look up at the antique sailboat "...what a colossal beauty" I say to no one. My reverie is rudely interrupted as a loud crack splinters a wooden board right next to my feet. I startle and drop my bundle of clothes.

"Che Fortuna!" A hairy man dressed in a hawaiian shirt stands on the boatdeck next to...Helena? He's holding a musket that had been hanging above the bed only moments ago.

"Are you insane?!" I yell at him.

"Vaffanculo! Stay away from my wife. Pig!" He shouts back.

My boots produce hollow thumps and the planks shudder under my feet as I run down the pier. I run as fast as I can but seagulls fly off ahead of me when a second shot is fired and missed. The couple on the boat is still caught in a heated arguement and I see them both waving their hands in disbelief as I jog further down the harbor.

There's a cold breeze that the sun will soon make up for. I take a deep breath and continue the jog past vendors who are putting up stalls and are cleaning fish for todays market.

I'm not going to make my transport. B´Elanna won't be pleased.

=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=

I'm an hour late by the time I step off the public shuttle and onto the spacestation where the Val Jean is currently docked. B´Elanna greets me with folded arms and raises one of her eyebrows so high it almost collides with her ridges. "I was starting to think I had to tell Ayala to postpone prelaunch procedures." I lean against the shuttledoor-panel and covertly shove in a chipp I had disconnected earlier -my way to avoid the fee now that my creditchit lies at some planetside pier. "Lost your shirt watching a boxing match, huh?" She asks.

B´Elanna's belted holster proudly places her phaser high on the hip she leans on. It adds even more fierceness to her Klingon appearance and contrasts her otherwise petite form. "Well, it was quite the rumble." I say. We share a knowing smile and she hands me Tuvoks report on the Federation weaponsfreighter that we're about to heist.

=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=

Tuvok greets me with a curtious nod as we enter the bridge of our weathered yet trustworthy Jean Val Jean. Much like it's namesake it has proven to withstand the hardest of endurances with an almost human determination.

I'm still buckling up my fresh attire as Paris turns his seat "Captain! That must've been quite the match if it lasted all through the night!" With a rough pull B´Elanna pivots his pilotseat futher to face her. "Hey new-meat, you get your smart-ass-rights after you show your worth, understood?" she says. Mischief radiates from his eyes as he replies "I'll just approach you later for those ass-rights then?" She leans in close to his face "I wouldn't if you value your teeth." Her hissed threat seems to have its effect as Paris holds up his hands in surrender and presses his lips together in a faint line.

"Quiet, both of you." I say calmly. Ayala, Tuvok, Paris and Torres; all fall silent and listen as I give them my orders. "We have a bumpy ride ahead of us but I expect our latest recruits to give us their best performance. Paris, you know the Fleets latest flightpatterns, run simulations to parry them and update the auto-pilot. B´Elanna, readjust targetting parameters to Federation weaponsystems." She nods and heads for engineering. "...and B´Elanna, check with maintenance to see if they got that chamber-temperature under control, we'll need the extra phaser."

"Right" she replies. I know the easiest way to lull her agressive urges is to preoccupy the circuits in her brain with analytical thought. Somehow Paris has a nag for getting under her skin however and I might have to adress them later; it's getting on my nerves.

"-Tuvok, start allround sensorweeps, and not just for Federation signatures; I want updates on every unscheduled flight or unexpected phenomenon. No surprises, understood?" I've had enough shots fired at me before breakfast, I add silently.

"Yes, sir" His dark voice is far from icy but can in the least be characterized as stoic. So far the experienced man has proven to be a conscentious and precise coworker -thoughtful even, which is saying a lot for a Vulcan. Something about him is off, though. Most recruits join the rebellion out of anger or frustration- not Tuvok; his motives are more rational and thought through. Granted, some of these soldiers are ticking timebombs but Tuvok, he calculates his every move like a guided misile. It unsettles me. Wether he has what it takes to be a permanent part of this crew remains yet to be seen.

I save my reservations for later.

"This catch would make my day so don't let me down. Everyone: get to work."

"Paris," I add as I turn to him "you got an extra shift for being clever."

"Will do." He sighs beaten.

I exit the bridge and step into Val Jeans cramped interior. My short visit to the tiny island of Corsica hadn't had the impact I had been longing for. Hoping to somewhat alleviate the numbness that had taken a hold of me ever since my fathers death, I had entered Earths atmosphere under the pretense of being a trader. With the ship packed with worthless plasma coils and some Ferengi-like charm on Paris' part, Starfleet-customs had opened it's borders without much ado. "If you really are such shrewd business-men" the security officer had told my cocky pilot with a wink "you might want to visit the new Casino on Corsica. Quite exclusive but worth the shot". Might as well try, I'd figured.

The desicion to come to Earth had been a risky one, but I simply hadn't cared. My endless string of sleepless nights had been exceptionally exhausting and I had cherished the hope of finding some peace and quiet in the leisurely climate of the Mediterranean. It had proven to be of more benefit to the crew however. I myself hadn't gotten the sleep I so badly longed for. Then again, it wouldn't be fair to say the visit hadn't had some other satisfying aspects. My resolution to be calm and centered had once again faltered to the need to uplift the numbness; to feel something. Some breath-taking golddigger had been sitting at the art deco bar; absentmindedly sipping a martini while casually offering surrounding suitors nothing but a cold shoulder. All were flaunting their succes and quick wit at her like brainless peacocks. I had liked the challenge. As she spoke to one of the more expensive suits I had brusquely interrupted to talk to the not so skilled conversationalist. She had been insulted, being pushed out of the spotlight she'd said "Excuse me, I was talking to him". "Wow", I had poked the suit I was supposedly so interested in "is she always this pushy?" I had laughed with the other men who thought I had just blown my chances and no longer considered me a threat. "I wonder; if you would want us to be truly interested, not just attracted because you're obviously gorgeous, but genuinely intrigued, like you'd never want me to forget you, what three things about you would I have to know?" The very moment she hunched her shoulders and moved her pupils to the far corners of her eyes I´d known I'd won her over for she was about to convince me why I should be with her. "I'll buy you a drink, you let me know when you have that top three, and this man will continue his story of where he bought that priceless watch, because really, my man, that is one gorgeous timepiece. Does it show the timezones on all Federation planets?" And so it had happened. It had been a sad trick and our night had left me more dissillusioned than her, I'm sure.

All my desperate tries to feel something had resulted in, could be pinpointed on a scale from mild frustration to blind fury. Not even desperation, or sadness -only unforgiving anger, which is still to be preferred over the careless emptiness that had lately been sucking the life out of me. My father would want me to process my thoughts, to centre my passions and meditate on them. Little did he know that feeling nothing is so infinitely more difficult than feeling in extremes. If only I could mourn and weep and collapse. I would welcome it. In stead my clarity is fogged with insomnia and nothing but harshness reaches through it. No woman, no risk, no danger, no liquor; nothing offers solace.

I enter the sleeping quarters that I share with five fellow crewmen and am gratefull for their absence. I rub my neck in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension as I sink onto my bunkbed with the elegance of an elephant ridden with artritis. A few hours of sleep would be enough. Just as I close my eyes I realise that the ship is flying at maximum velocity and it's loud humn and ceaseless buzzing will undoubtedly keep me awake. With a grunt I roll to my side and punch my pillow into a better shape. Helena's bed would have facilitated my need much better if only it hadn't been for that loud and hairy terror of a man. Ellen, Helen?

*Beep* Seska to Chakotay.

"Yes. What?" It comes out harsher than I had intended and I close my eyes in selfannoyance.

..Bad mood? She asks. She often senses things even without visual contact. Any less perceptive woman than my dear friend would have noticed though. Hell, even Tuvok might've figured it out.

I thought, since you're no longer roaming Italy's shores, you might feel like getting a drink. The mess is pretty much deserted now...but if you're not up to it then I'll just have to have my Italian coffee on my own?

I can tell she expects me to accept the invitation and although I've expressed the boundaries of our involvement more than just a few times, I must admit that I still usually do give in to her.

"Not now, thank you. And considering our pending mission I sincerely hope that your drink will be more coffee and less Italian."

Yes sir, less.. Italian. Indeed. Seska out.

I'm too exhausted to look up but I'm certain her contempt is dripping down the commspeakers. That's not the last I'll hear of that. This kind of complicated nonsense is exactly what I don't need right now.

If only I could sleep. Damn this mess. And damn this riff-raff crew. For years I've been recruiting trustworthy, well-balanced soldiers, but time and time again I find that, when lacking those qualities myself, the example I set to the people around me is far from ideal. There is a closeknit group for whom I would give my life; B´Elanna, Sveta, a few others -gladly even. But at times like these I think of the chaos in our squadron and the perpetual thrillseekers that have no business on this ship. Our values and our vision are lost on people like Lon Suder and Tom Paris. We're not getting anything done as long as we keep bickering amongst ourselves and flogging our own for insubordination and plain stupidity.

I sigh but the oxygen seems to only partly fill my lungs; a weight feels too heavy to lift by the mere strength of my torso. I consider doing some meditative excercises but my frustration won't clear the way into the depth I'd be seeking. I might take a swing at my spirit-guide. I cringe at the thought. Slowly, I lull into an uncomfortable, sweaty sleep and my mind is consumed by a nightmare -or is it a dream?- that there will be a time where things are different and the anger that originates in my toes and sometimes overflows my eyes in the form of bitter tears...is finally...gone.

The last thought my mind registers is a question: will I ever explode, or could my fury eventually dissipate in gentle relief.

Could it ever just...vanish?

Day 2:

I've forgotten my dream. Too bad, it may have been a good one. Perhaps it wasn't even a dream, perhaps it was that drowsy state between sleeping and being awake. I take a deep breath and in an attempt to thoroughly enjoy the lazy softness of the bed I squirm and bury myself deep under the duvet. It's less feathery than I'd expected it to be. Still, I'm reluctant to wake up, this bed is more comfortable than my bunkbed, back on the Val Jean. And finally, no snoring. Wait...Helena? I wonder where she is. It doesn't sit right with me and so I force my eyes to open. It's darker than I'd expected -or rather...greyer. The ceiling is covered in neatly set bulkheads. I close my eyes and let my still weary mind process this new information. Why would I think there was a musket? I need to get back to the Val Jean, we're going to get hold of a large freighter.

That specific grey.

Then it hits me.

That specific Starfleet grey.

I freeze and slowly move my left arm to the empty place next to me. I'm alone. With as little movement as humanly possible I look up to see where the faint starlight originates from -space. I'm in space. I expected as much. I scan the room -grey bulkheads, smooth closetdoors, low fluorescent lighting that would make a wedding look grim, zero personality -definitely Starfleet.

For a moment I ease back in the standard issue pillow. What possible explanation could there be? I could still be sleeping. No, probably not. Am I abducted? That customs-officer must have tricked me. That doesn't seem to make any sense though. This is no cell. Propaganda? No, even less likely.

However I got here, I better act with caution.

I'm in the lions den.

*Beep* Commandteam please report to the bridge.

I lie still in the bed. Head pushed hard into the pillow. It's not possible. What am I missing? Their internal sensors must have detected me by now. I wonder who will answer.

Kim to Commander Chakotay, please respond.

I'm definitely here and that call is definitely for me.

"Go ahead."

Silence.

Right, no speakers for one-on-one hails, it's commbadges with Starfleet. Where would the damn thing be?

I turn to a nightstand and the moment the badge comes into focus it rudely spits out yet another request.

Commander Chakotay, please respond.

I tap it and say "Go ahead."

"Tuvok has detected a temporal anomaly, sir. He's apparently seen it before...back in the Alpha-quadrant. The captain is already on her way."

"Right." I decide to bluff. "I'll ..take a look then."

"Sorry to wake you sir..."

Silence.

"..um...Ensign Kim out."

A lions den...with an ensign in command?

A lions den none the less.