Basic Terms
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Star Trek Voyager
Copyright: Paramount
When Crewman Tal Celes walked into Astrometrics for the first time since before that memorable away mission, for a moment she couldn't help but wonder if she'd blundered into an alternate universe by mistake. Her colleagues, who had been mocking or ignoring her as long as she could remember, were suddenly smiling and clapping her on the shoulder as if she'd been missing for a year. She'd only been gone for two days – one for the mission and one for her recovery in Sickbay – but the possibility of losing their shy, slow, soft-spoken colleague for good had affected them all.
"Morning, Celes! How are you doing?"
"It's good to have you back."
"So how was the mission? Telfer says you ran into a dark matter life form – is that true or was he winding us up?"
But the crowning moment came when Seven of Nine, whom Tal had always held in abject awe and terror, walked right up to her and said:
"The Captain has informed me of your actions aboard the Delta Flyer. You performed admirably, Crewman."
The unaccustomed praise nearly knocked Tal off her feet.
"Thank you, ma'am," she said, ducking her head as a grin spread over her face. "It's good to be back."
She went to her station with a spring in her step. The algorithms she had to muddle through hadn't gotten any easier, unfortunately, but at least they didn't make her feel like hiding under her console anymore. Thinking of something she'd told the Captain during the mission, she shook her head; compared to a real monster with fangs and claws, her sensor analyses were quite harmless.
"That is incorrect, Celes," said Seven, peering over her shoulder.
Three days ago, Tal would have drooped like a wilted flower. She had taken Seven's misnaming without complaint for two and a half years, but this was just about enough. She was the crewman who'd argued with her Captain – and won. She could handle this
"Please, ma'am … call me Crewman Tal."
Seven's ocular implant twitched upwards, Vulcan-style. "Explain."
Tal felt her blush beginning. "I'm Bajoran. Where I come from, family names come first and given names second."
"Every member of this department addresses you as Celes."
Because that's what I've always been to them, Tal thought bitterly. A silly little girl named Celes, instead of a Crewman Tal who would be their equal. Being too polite to say this to their faces, however, she said: "That's because they're the same rank, mostly."
"So does the Captain."
"Actually, ma'am, she uses personal names a lot. I think it's part of her command style."
Captain Janeway was a mother to her crew. She'd even tried to call the obnoxious Crewman Harren 'Mortimer', though with less than positive results. Tal thought back with a glow of grateful warmth how kind the older woman had been during the mission. She'd comforted Billy after he'd been invaded by the dark matter centipede. She'd complimented Tal on her 'unconventional thinking' and done her best to bolster the young woman's fragile self-esteem.
"No wonder the Collective uses numbered designations," Seven muttered darkly, looking down as if Tal were a piece of dirt on her polished stiletto. "Why, Crewman Tal, did you not correct me when I first came aboard?"
"I .. um … "
"Respond."
That mechanical tone of Seven's never failed to raise a blister on Tal's pagh.
"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"
"Granted."
"Well … sometimes … often … you come across as a little intimidating."
"I am – I was Borg. Even after two years among the crew, social interaction remains … difficult for me." Was that Tal's imagination, or did Seven sound defensive, even a little apologetic?
"Yes, ma'am."
"It was never my intent to be intimidating, Ms. Tal. My corrections are meant to assist you."
For a moment, Tal imagined the past two years through Seven's eyes – and for the first time, sympathized. It couldn't have been easy for the solitary ex-drone to deal with Tal's sensitivity; she recalled one disastrous afternoon when certain harsh remarks had actually reduced her to tears at her station. Poor Seven! It was almost funny in retrospect.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Please, Ms. Tal, call me Seven."
Tal watched Seven's long, competent fingers moving across the computer screen and listened to her explanation with fierce attention. As always, her vocabulary was highly technical; just listening to it made Tal feel woolly-headed. But instead of nodding, pretending to understand, and either appealing to Billy later or messing up the work anyway, Tal decided to take a third option. She dreaded exposing her ignorance like this, but perhaps – just perhaps – getting answers would be worth it.
"I'm sorry … Seven. I still don't understand. Could you put that in more basic terms, please?"
She glanced around apprehensively at her colleagues, waiting for the snickers and whispers. None came.
Seven began again, with no sign of impatience in her face or voice, outlining every step as she performed it on the computer. As Tal began to concentrate calmly on the screen, she recognized the feeling settling over her as once she had felt before, arguing with the Captain in the Delta Flyer.
Confidence.