Little Eelo
The nature of being with the Maquis was constant movement. We were on permanent active duty, taking one mission after another with little-to-no break in between. For those of us who had come from Bajor, Valo, Earth, or another Federation planet, we had no home other than a ship and a temporary base in the Badlands.
The colonists, at least, could still visit their homeworlds. For many, however, this was even worse than being cut off from home completely. Colonies had been turned into war zones, where Cardassian militarism ruled with brutal force over the small Federation communities that settled there. The more that Kardasi oppressed them, the more people resisted. The more resistance people showed, the harder they were punished by Kardasi soldiers. It wasn't long before the Union began decimating entire settlements in single military strikes, slaughtering insurgents and their families without regard for innocence.
To Cardassians, outsiders were guilty by default.
All of the Maquis felt like refugees to some degree. We were uprooted trees, and not all of our roots had come cleanly out of the soil from which we were pulled. We left pieces of ourselves behind in places of great pain. In this, at least, I was no different from the rest of them.
Despite the high level of stress we lived with every day, there was no use for a counselor in the Maquis. Nobody had time to stop and talk about feelings when each new day brought another mission that meant risking our freedom or our lives— and honestly, no one wanted to talk anyway. We lived on the run, so we became very skilled at cramming negative feelings into locked-up boxes within ourselves. Of course, we lived outside of the protocols of the Federation, so we turned to fist fights and sex to relieve the stress when those boxes got too full.
Surprising as this may be to some, I was no different in that aspect, either.
When I first arrived, the Maquis leadership wanted to have me trained as a medic. My post-graduate training had taken place at Starfleet Medical, which was all they cared to know about my qualifications before deciding on my assignment. I tried to explain that I had no medical training at all, that I would be more valuable to them as a pilot and a translator. They did not listen.
I was nothing but a pretender in their eyes— a child bringing toy knives to a disruptor fight. I never experienced the hardships they had known for most of their lives. I grew up on a Federation starship, never needing to work or pray for my next meal, never being persecuted for the ridges on my nose or for being born too close to Cardassian space. I had only known peace, adventure, and opportunity, while these people had known endless betrayal and abuse. Eelo or not, I would have to work twice as hard to earn their trust and respect.
Or, I would have to quickly prove that I was more like them than they assumed.
"Bring me three untranslated Kardasi files," I demanded, "and I will prove to you why it would be a waste of everyone's time to turn me into a triage nurse's bitch."
To my great fortune, they agreed.
Within a week's time, I was at the flight control center— or 'con' for short— of a runabout, waiting to make my first flight through the nefarious Badlands. I knew that I would not be the only new recruit testing that day, but I was entirely unprepared to see the familiar, handsome face of my old academy best friend, Tom Paris.
Six months before I left Earth, Tom was dishonorably discharged from service in Starfleet. He pled guilty to falsifying reports in order to cover up his own piloting error, which had cost the lives of three fellow officers. Once the verdict was issued, he disappeared without ever saying a word to me.
Yet, there he was on that junky old runabout, ready to test for a piloting job with the Maquis. When he stepped into the cockpit, all tall and muscular with his dirty-blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, I couldn't decide if I wanted to kiss him... or punch him. His expression moved rapidly from surprise to shame, but he quickly hid both behind a practiced, charming smile.
And I caved, just as I always did with him.
The test went like old times. Navigating through plasma storms in the Badlands was effortless, as if we shared a single mind. We both passed the assessment with ease, although the instructor seemed to be more than a little irritated by our constant childish banter.
Within a week of our flight test, I learned that Tom had vanished. It wasn't until much later that I found out where he had gone, so I did my best to shrug it off and carry on with life. After all, there were more important things to focus on.
Having proven my skill at the con, I was able to rejoin the cell Marnah commanded. I worked as a pilot, translator, and code-breaker in the months leading up to the Federation-Cardassian Treaty of 2370. Once the treaty was signed, and several Federation-occupied worlds were ceded to the Union for appeasement, everything rapidly changed.
The day Marnah introduced me to Chakotay at the base on Daenyr I, I knew things were about to be very different for me.
"Ja'ital," she said, gesturing to a tall, well-built man of about forty. "This is Chakotay. He and I used to be colleagues at Starfleet Academy."
My heart stuttered the moment I saw him. His skin was tanned, and his black hair was salted sparingly with grays. His bone structure was solid and squared, and he sported the sort of lean muscles and calloused hands that spoke of cadet-drilling and manual labor. Above his left eyebrow was some kind of tribal tattoo that one couldn't help but notice right away, making him look all the more distinguished.
With a polite smile, he extended his hand towards me. "Glad to finally meet you, Eelo," he offered, respectfully addressing me by family name.
My windpipe constricted as I reached out a hand to grasp his, likely making my expression look awkward. I cleared my throat. "Thank you, sir. But, please, call me Talia."
His eyebrows rose in shock, and his tattoo with them. "After just a handshake?"
"I grew up among Terrans, and am much more accustomed to using my given name."
He nodded and released my hand. "Alright. I'll use your name as long as you promise not to call me 'sir.'"
I smiled. "Deal."
"I'll just let you two get acquainted," Marnah said pointedly before taking her leave.
I learned that Chakotay was also an accomplished pilot, but he needed someone at the con so he would be free to give more attention to commanding the crew. After a while, he started nudging me towards command, though I didn't notice it at first.
The Bajorans had long called me Eelo'chali— a term of endearment roughly translating to Little Eelo— but nearly everyone in Chakotay's cell picked up the term despite the fact that most of them were from Federation colonies and spoke little to no Bajoran. In Marnah's Bajoran cell, my mixed heritage and Starfleet upbringing had made me an outsider. Some had flat-out resented me. But in Chakotay's cell, it was barely an issue.
Little by little, I began to find a place within the Maquis.
It took a good bit longer to address the growing sexual tension between myself and the man that Marnah had transferred me to. Chakotay's first contact in the Maquis was a woman named Seska Paqu— one of Marnah's recruits from a Northeastern province of Bajor. She had a reputation for being hot-headed and impulsive, but she was wickedly smart and unafraid of taking risks. It was Seska who managed to find Tom again, and she used their mutually hedonistic impulses to convince him to run supplies for the Maquis on a small cargo ship he acquired. For a time, he seemed to truly captivate her.
Then, she met Chakotay.
Before they even laid eyes on each other, Seska and Chakotay were a dark catharsis waiting to happen. Chakotay's spirit had been shattered by a brutal Kardasi attack on his tribe. He lost his home, his parents, and any hope of reconciling the troubled relationship with his father, and it was a charge he would hold against himself for years to come. Seska, on the other hand, was a twisted piece of work after having grown up in one of the worst labor camps on Bajor. Not even the Valo Bajorans could relate to the horrors she had witnessed. She threw herself at Chakotay the moment they met, and his wounded heart never stood a chance.
Dark hair and green eyes made Seska a rare and highly-valued kind of beauty, even in her native province. Marnah had taken one look at her and known she was born of old nobility. Truly, she was a great asset to the Maquis.
She was also one of the most toxic people I had ever met— more toxic even than the Starfleet bureaucrats who pushed me out of the service. Seska had wormed her way into Marnah's good graces, then threw that away to snag her new cell leader by the hip. But I saw her for the user she was, and I despised her.
To his credit, Chakotay broke off the relationship within a few weeks of falling into it. I'd hoped he might want someone new to warm his bed, but he insisted on sleeping alone. Starfleet Command frowned on superiors having relationships with subordinates, and try as he might to fight it, Chakotay was still Starfleet at heart.
The night Chakotay and I finally came together was quite nearly the day we died. We were two torpedoes away from destruction when I managed to shake Gul Torak in the Badlands. As soon as we set down on Daenyr I, the crew went straight to the courtyard on base and broke out whatever liquor we had stashed away.
Normally, when attracted to someone, I was pretty forward about it. I didn't like wasting time. For months, I buried my attraction to Chakotay because I knew he needed space to grieve his losses and adjust to his new identity as a traitor to Starfleet. It wasn't an easy adjustment to make— I knew that quite well— and Chakotay was a very private person.
On that night, however, with the alcohol and adrenaline running hot through my veins, I decided that I just didn't care anymore. As the crew trickled away to their bunks, I nudged Chakotay's leg with mine.
He didn't react, staying focused on the task of peeling a label from a bottle. Firelight danced along the glass surface of the bottle almost the same way it moved in his eyes.
"How many times am I going to have to touch you before you do something about it?"
He smiled. "A few more, maybe."
Leaning closer to him, I purred, "Then tell me what I have to do for you to take me to bed right now."
"Promise me that Fayeni won't gut me if I do."
I laughed. "You can stare down Guls who would love the chance to torture you to death, but Marnah scares you?"
He met my eyes, his own full of genuine respect. "She's a powerful warrior, and a fierce protector."
That moment, my bravado vanished.
In the year since leaving Earth, I had grown quite used to the variety of ways people— particularly men— reacted to strong women like myself or Marnah. Moving closer to Kardasi territory seemed to shift the attitudes of colonists, as if the Kardasi sense of patriarchy was a disease that infected every other culture it came into contact with. It had happened to Bajor, too, turning many of our once-matriarchal cultures into incubators for resentment and power struggles between the sexes.
Chakotay, however, spoke as if Marnah's strength was something sacred.
I smiled, not to be coy or flirtatious, but out of genuine appreciation for his words. "She won't gut you, Chakotay. Actually, she has a lot of respect for you." I put a hand on his knee. "She also respects me as an adult who can make my own choices."
He brushed a lock of hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. "And this is what you want tonight?"
I slid my hand from his knee to his thigh, heart thudding at the smoldering look in his eyes. "This is what I want tonight," I whispered. Then, pressing my lips to his, I uncorked the need that I had kept stored in my belly for so long and poured every last drop onto his tongue.
Chakotay's empty bottle hit the dirt with a soft clink, and his hands quickly found their way to my hips. With sly fingers, he teased the skin just beneath the hem of my shirt, and I couldn't stop the giggle that came at the sensation.
"Ticklish," he mumbled against my lips, his mouth twitching with amusement.
"Only sometimes," I said before silencing him with another kiss.
He darted his tongue across my bottom lip, drawing me into his mouth, and I tipped my head forward to deepen the kiss.
"Not here," he murmured, voice already gone raspy.
"Okay," I said, my voice trembling as much as my muscles. Sliding onto my feet, I took a step back and tried to catch my breath.
In one swift move, Chakotay swept my knees out from under me and carried me across the courtyard to his makeshift quarters. Being the cell leader came with the benefit of having his own, compete with a free-standing bed rather than a bunk. With his foot, he jammed the door shut behind us, and then he crossed the room to where he laid me gently down on his bed.
Chakotay's demeanor threw me way off. He treated me with a reverence I didn't think I deserved, and it made me want to savor the experience of being with him.
He locked his dark eyes onto mine as he moved over me, and my desire swelled even more. How could I be so impulsive as to think that a quick and desperate coupling would have satisfied my need, especially on a day that could have easily been our last? Chakotay would not be another fling. I didn't know what he would be to me, nor did I want to, but even then I knew it was going to be more than I expected.
Reaching for his face, I traced the tribal tattoo over his left eye. Then, I dragged my fingertips along his cheek, strong jaw, soft lips, and bobbing throat. He was a living work of art, so beautiful that I couldn't help but stop and stare. He watched me silently as I took him in, his breath warm and thick with whiskey. Every other person, feeling, and experience fell away from me, giving me a rare moment of actual, honest-to-God happiness.
"Do you know how long I've wanted this, Chakotay?"
He responded with a grin that glistened in his eyes and revealed those adorable dimples in his cheeks. "Would it be narcissistic to say that it started the first day we met, when you almost choked at the sight of me?"
I smiled back, my face flushing. "It would be the truth." I ghosted a kiss over his lips. "When did you realize you wanted me, too?"
"From the beginning," he admitted before pressing a kiss to my mouth. "You're smart." He kissed me again. "Fierce." And again. "Sexy as hell." He kissed me deeply, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth and running his tongue along the length of it. "And, so damn cute the way you tried to hide your feelings. Do you have any idea what you did to me when you looked at me like that? It drove Seska mad."
I smiled, sinfully satisfied at the knowledge that I had won his affections even while she was taking him into her bed. Normally, it was considered bad taste for a Kendra-Bajoran to show jealousy over a lover, or to view sexual relations as a competition, but the rules were muddier with a Terran.
Besides, I really hated Seska.
Then Chakotay pressed his perfect lips to mine again, and all thoughts of my rival quickly vanished. Without another word, we surrendered ourselves to the siren-call of pleasure, climbing up and up and up together until we slipped over the edge and fell freely into a much-needed release.
That night, Chakotay became the anchor I had been looking for since cutting loose from Marnah's cell. Although I had no way to know it at the time, it would be my relationship with Chakotay that carried me through the unfathomable challenges yet to come.
