Chapter 2- Confrontations

The next morning, Captain Janeway called a meeting for the senior officers. Chakotay, Tuvok, Paris and Kim joined her in her office and they spent the first half of the meeting reviewing the duty roster. Complaints and concerns were noted and the roster was adjusted accordingly until everyone was satisfied. Half an hour later, everything seemed to be on the level, so she changed the subject.

"Now that we're done sorting the junior officers," said Janeway, " I'd like to hear any suggestions you have about finding a way to replenish our supplies."

"Actually, Captain," said Tuvok. "I have one more suggestion. Ensign Mulcahey's performance during the Firestorm was quite exemplary. I would like him to be transferred to elite guard as an archer permanently."

The captain nodded thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea. I wonder why Seafleet didn't assign him to be an archer to begin with?"

"What's he doing right now?" asked Paris.

Before she could answer, the door of the office suddenly banged open and there stood Neelix and Kes.

"I'm sorry for being so late, Captain," said Neelix, "but nobody told us there was a meeting." He looked around the table. "There don't seem to be enough chairs…"

"Mr. Neelix, this meeting is for senior officers only."

"Yes and as the senior Talaxian and senior Ocampa on board, I think you'll find our input most valuable. We are the only friendly faces you've met so far and we know more about these waters than you do, right now."

Janeway gave Tuvok a look, not quite believing Neelix's boldness. Tuvok merely raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the absurdity of it, but nothing more.

"Very well, Mr. Neelix," she said, "You may join us, but just this once."

"Thank you, Captain!" Neelix dropped into the last empty chair and Paris kindly gave his up so Kes would have a place to sit.

"So, returning to the topic of replenishing our supplies: I am aware we can make do with what we have. The commander and I have already taken steps to ration them further, but it's only a temporary solution. Basically, we need a source of income. Becoming a merchant ship for some company out here is sure to hamper our efforts of getting home and, obviously, I'm not going to consider piracy. Right now, what I need from each of you are ideas for getting money."

Neelix raised his hand. "If I may, Captain."

She nodded at him to continue, grateful for his manners.

"My first suggestion would be to sell everything you don't need. Things like your steel ingot, extra line, spare tools, even your extra clothes and uniforms. If it doesn't have at least two uses, sell it."

"I must remind you, Mr. Neelix," said Tuvok, "that Seafleet regulations are very strict about uniforms. The captain has stated that all regulations will be observed, no doubt including those regarding proper duty and dress wear."

"Yes, I've seen the fancy version of your uniforms, Mr. Vulcan, and they will fetch quite a price with any well-established cloth-merchants you come across."

Tuvok's eyebrows drew a millimeter closer together. "The captain has already stated-"

"The captain can change whatever rules she likes, Tuvok," said Janeway. "Neelix has made a good point. If the dress uniforms are worth something, we'll sell them."

"Captain, you have made it clear-"

"If it's a choice between looking like slobs at a party and not having enough food, then we'll look like slobs. Now, what ideas do you have for a steady source of income?"

Neelix, warming to his role as a source of knowledge, said, "Well, speaking from experience, scavenging and trading can be profitable, especially once I teach you what I know. I scratched out a pretty decent life for myself."

"It's a good suggestion," said Chakotay, "but we've got a crew of nearly forty to think of. We need to do better than just scraping by."

Neelix nodded and scratched his whiskers, deep in thought. Kes cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. Janeway nodded at her, encouraging her.

"Neelix told me that cargo running is a good way to make money. Couldn't we do that?"

"Not if we want to keep heading for home," said Paris. "Once we agree to be cargo runners, we have to keep working for the same company. They would tell us where to go and what to carry."

"What if we only agreed to ship cargo in the direction we're already heading?"

"We'd still be tied to one company."

Chakotay looked at the captain. "What if we were freelance runners? A ship for hire, one way only?"

Janeway considered this, then turned to Neelix. "Are freelancers common here?"

"There are a fair few, but without an agency to report to, you might be asked to ship some, shall we say, less than legal goods."

Chakotay shrugged at that, but Janeway frowned.

"Well, it's an option anyway," she said. "Any other ideas?"

The rest of the officers started talking over each other, putting out and rejecting different ideas. Some of Paris' ideas weren't exactly Seafleet approved and Chakotay shot them down. Tuvok's ideas weren't bad, but most of them relied on having a good reputation in nearby waters, and Neelix was careful to remind them all that as far as the people of the Far Sea were concerned, Voyager didn't exist or was considered an enemy of the Kazon. Neelix's ideas were the most likely to work, but the commander and the captain had to remind him that his methods could only support one or two sailors, not an entire crew. Kim listened to all of them with interest. Everyone's ideas had something to do with trading or shipping cargo. What they really needed was a way to produce something on board and sell it in port. They could make art, but that was no guarantee. They could make cloth, but they needed equipment for that. What could they make on board and sell ashore that people wanted to buy?

And suddenly, he knew. He made a noise to suggest something, but looked down and away when the captain turned to him.

"Ensign, did you have something you wanted to add?" she asked

Kim swallowed. He didn't want to break protocol by coming up with an idea that none of the officers had suggested first, but he hadn't spoken out of turn, so maybe it was all right for him to give his idea.

"Captain, I was thinking – what if we could produce and sell salt?"

"How?" asked Paris. He and the other senior officers were paying full attention to Kim now, and he straightened, feeling confident.

"We boil seawater until only the salt remains, collect it and sell it. One of my uncles did it on his fishing boat for extra cash, but if we had someone boiling out salt all day and night, we'd have plenty in no time."

"Not a bad idea," said Chakotay. "Is there a demand for salt in these waters?"

"Oh, people always want salt," said Neelix. "In fact, there are a few ports where you can use salt to pay for things instead of money."

"All right then," said Janeway. "Mr Kim, I want a proposal on my desk by tomorrow morning. Let me know what materials you think you'll need."

Kim blinked. "You want to put me in charge?"

"It was your idea."

Kim gave an uncertain grin for just a moment, then was all business again. "Yes, Captain," he said. "I'll do my best."

Janeway had to suppress a grin of her own at his enthusiasm. Beside Kim, Kes lifted her hand.

"Yes, Kes?"

"If we're going to produce goods on board, why not grow plants or raise animals as well? Growing our own food will help cut costs."

"Good thinking. I'll expect a proposal from you too."

They discussed other ideas for a little longer until the captain was satisfied everyone's opinion had been heard, then she dismissed them to their duties. Chakotay waited until everyone else had left to speak to her alone.

"Something on your mind, Commander?" she asked.

"I'd like you to consider B'Elanna Torres as the new bosun."

She regarded him coolly, unsure of what he was getting at. "Lieutenant Carey has seniority."

"I know. But from what I understand of Carey, he hasn't been doing it as long as she has. She has more experience."

She frowned. "I'm not prepared to put someone so unfamiliar with Seafleet protocols in such an influential position."

"You put me in an influential position."

"You're different. You've been an officer in Seafleet before."

"At least see what she can do. Put her and Carey on a shift together, watch them work and then you can decide."
Her frown lightened. That sounded more reasonable. "Fine."

Chakotay turned and left, feeling a little conflicted. He wanted B'Elanna to have the chance she deserved, but whether or not she and Carey could work together without arguing or fighting was another thing altogether.

Once the meeting had finished, everyone filed outside, still discussing ideas. As she came out, Kes suddenly gasped, hunching her shoulders.

"What is it?" demanded Neelix. "What's wrong?"

"Where is all that water coming from?" she asked.

Paris held out his hand. "It's just the rain. No big deal."

Kes extended her own hands. "Rain… My father told me stories about when it used to rain on our island – years and years ago, in my ancestor's time, when they lived above the ground – but I always thought it was absurd. Water, falling from the sky? Who would believe it? But here it is, falling on me!"

Neelix and Paris shared a look of amusement at her innocence.

"We always had to bring water up from the river or collect it from the walls of the cave," she went on, now reaching up for the sky, "but rain just falls. All we'd have to do is catch it. If we built our gardens outside, we wouldn't have to water them – the rain would do all the work. This is so amazing!"

Neelix beamed, happy to see her so delighted.

"Well, you'd better hope this is just rain. Storms can be pretty unpleasant out at sea," said Paris. Chakotay moved past them just then, heading for Tuvok. In his hand was a copy of the duty roster.

"Huh," said Paris.

"What?" asked Kes.

"I thought the duty roster had been set already. Someone must have gotten reassigned. I'd better make sure it isn't me."

"Why would Chakotay move someone around when he said the roster had been finished?" wondered Neelix.

"It's probably a correction," said Kes. "He said he was going to be fair."

"I cannot believe this!" Torres bellowed, pacing back and forth in the small room. Not an easy task, as the deck was pitching up and down in the roughening sea. "He said we were going to be fairly treated – how do you call this fair?"

Ensign Claire Strickler sat on a crate on the far side of the room, legs dangling over the side. "Calm down. What's not fair?"

"Tuvok just posted the new duty roster. They're making me work with that bigot Carey on the beta shift! He hates me – how am I supposed to get anything done?"

"Oh come on. How do you know he's a racist? He might just dislike you because you're a renegade, like everyone else does."

Torres rolled her eyes. "Please. You think I can't spot a bigot a mile off? My mother and I were the only Klingons on a settlement of Humans. Nobody ever said anything, but we could tell they hated us. You can always tell – it's in their eyes. That look that says, 'You're garbage to me. I wish you were dead.'"

The door swung open suddenly and Lieutenant Susan Nicoletti walked in.

"What do you want?" snapped Torres.

"I came to get my jacket," said Nicoletti, her tone defensive. "Did I interrupt some secret renegade club meeting?"

"Grab it and get out; we're busy."

Nicoletti grabbed her jacket of a hook and headed back out without a word. As soon as the door shut, Strickler turned back to Torres.

"You see? It's just like that - plain-old dislike, no racial hate at all. That's probably all it is."

Torres folded her arms and scowled. "If you don't believe me, you could just say so. You don't have to try and convince me I didn't see what I saw."

Strickler stood up and moved closer to her roommate. "It's not that I don't believe you think he doesn't like you. I'm just asking you to keep your mind open and try not to…" She trailed off, searching for the right words.

"What?" said Torres. "Overreact? That was what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

"I was trying to find a better word for it, but yes; try not to overreact."

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. And I'm not responsible for what happens if he gets in my way." Torres moved to leave, but Strickler jumped in front of her.

"Oh yes you are. One careless comment is no reason to knock someone over. You should know that by now. On our ship, it didn't matter so much but here, there are actual consequences. You heard what the captain said about fighting. One more incident and we're up doing drills before dawn."

"She was bluffing."

"I doubt it. She doesn't seem like someone who goes back on her word. If you lose it and punch him, I'm not going to back you up to everyone else."

Torres looked hurt for a fraction of a second, then withdrew even further into herself.

"Aw hell, Claire, it's bad enough I have to get this kind of treatment from the Seafleeters, now I have to get it from you too?"

"No, B'Elanna, that's not what I meant."

"You think I'm aggressive, out of control, prone to starting fights?"

"No!"

"Then what?"

Strickler squirmed a little, trying to clarify her words. Torres drummed her fingers on her thigh.

"I'm waiting!"

"Impulsive! You're kind of impulsive – that's what I was trying to say. You have to admit, there have been times when you've acted before thinking it all the way through. But it's not the same as aggressive- impulsive describes you better. I'm sorry it's got such a negative connotation, but your impulsiveness has gotten us out of few bad situations, so it's not so bad."

Someone banged loudly on the door.

"Torres! Your shift started five minutes ago! Get out on deck, now!"

"I'm coming!" she shouted back. Torres fastened her belt and attached the baldric, then started for the door.

"B'Elanna," said Strickler. "I'm your friend – I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble."

"Yeah, I know," Torres mumbled. "I'll see you later."

Torres stormed out on deck, feeling sour. Carey waited for her at the top of the ladder, arms crossed.

"When your shift starts at twelve hundred hours," he began, "that's when I expect to see you at your post."

She folded her own arms. "What do you want?"

"I want you to follow protocol, for one thing. Next time, a more appropriate greeting might be, 'reporting as ordered, sir.' Bear in mind that I'm your superior officer."

"We're the same rank – I don't have to call you 'sir.'"

"I'm the officer on deck and you will observe regulations!"

"You're just the acting bosun until the captain picks someone."

"She's going to pick me – I'm next in line. Why? Does it bother you that you might be working for someone you hate? Well, you-"

"Are we done?"

Carey let out a frustrated sigh. "We're done. Get to work."

Torres turned and headed for the shrouds to climb up to the fighting top, but Carey called her back down.

"What?" she said, speaking over the wind.

"I want you fixing the running lines on deck."

She frowned at him. "That's a lay job. I'm better off up top, reattaching the sail. Anyone can clean up lines."

"Right, and since you're anyone, you can do it just fine. Clean up the lines – that's an order."

She felt her jaw clench, but somehow kept her temper in check. Without another word, she turned and headed for the pins by the rail. They were a mess, naturally, and she set to fixing and retying all the knots that had come loose. The occasional spatter of rain and hard wind were an inconvenience, but no great trouble. She had been through far worse weather. Carey harrumphed somewhere behind her and she put him out of her mind. He didn't seem to care too much for her. But after what Strickler said, she wasn't sure if he was picking on her because she was Klingon or because she was a renegade. All she knew was that he really annoyed her. Hopefully, he'd leave her to do her job instead of pestering her and she wouldn't have to knock him flat on his –

A shout from up above caught her attention. Hogan and some of the Seafleeters were trying to secure the new sail to the yardarm. The head of the sail was too loose; she could see it all the way from the deck. She whistled to get Hogan's attention.

"Hey! Tie the loops in the line in six-centimeter gaps, not ten! It'll hold better."

"Belay that!" shouted Carey. "This isn't a renegade ship – keep the loops at ten!"

Hogan and his team shouted an acknowledgment and got back to work.

"Torres, what do you think you're doing?" Carey asked.

"Tying the loops closer together puts less strain on the sail – it'll last longer too."

"We follow regulations on this ship. And don't you try to give my crew an order like that again – I'm in charge, not you."

Torres ground her teeth together and crushed the rope in her hands. Chakotay was going to hear about this when her shift ended.

Her action must have given Carey an idea, because he moved over to the belaying pins to inspect her work. He frowned at what he saw.

"That's not how you tie a bowline," said Carey. "It's not standard."

"Hey, you told me to fix the lines and I'm fixing them. What does it matter how they're tied? This way works just fine."

"I don't care how it worked out for you; it's not regulation and we're not doing it."

That was it. "To hell with regulations!" she shouted. "You're so caught up in rules; you can't see what might be more practical. Besides, out on the open water, they're more like guidelines anyway."

People, overhearing their shouting match, started to gather.

"Regulations are in place for a reason!" said Carey. "And you are under orders to follow them!"

"Do you want this rigging to come flying apart the next time we hit a storm? Because that's what's going to happen. Believe me; I've seen it before."

She turned away from him and started tying the knot. Carey shoved her aside and yanked the knot apart. Torres said nothing, simply spun around and punched him. He staggered back a few steps, clutching his bleeding nose.

"Damn kronker!" he shouted, lunging for her. Torres only had a moment to absorb the fact that she was right about him before he slugged her across the jaw with all his strength. His blow knocked her backwards, but only stunned her for a moment.

"Worthless bikka!" she bellowed. She all but leaped at him, wanting nothing more than to crack his head against the deck.

Six pairs of hands seized her and pulled her back; four pairs held onto Carey, keeping him still. The two struggled mightily; still yelling and threatening each other, when suddenly a voice shouted, "Stand down!"

Everyone turned to see Captain Janeway striding over, a fire in her eyes.

"I thought I made myself clear yesterday – no more fighting." Few things in the world were more frightening than an angry captain and the fighting lieutenants were taking the brunt of her fury. Torres felt her anger vanish in the presence of the captain's own.

"Four days on half rations, the both of you. Get yourselves cleaned up, then report immediately to the pumps." She glared at them, then spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "And the rest of you can look forward to calisthenics tomorrow morning."

Groans and other frustrated noises rang out across the deck, along with accusations.

"Nice going, Torres."

"Way to get us all in trouble, Carey."

The ocean had been growing rougher ever since that first shower of rain after the morning meeting. Voyager pitched and heaved over the waves, which were growing larger with every passing hour. Kes had thought all of this was very exciting, until the motion began to make her sick. She had laid down for a while after completing her proposal, hoping a nap would drive it off, but no such luck. Worse, she had had to skip out on lunch, no longer confident that she would have been able to keep it down. Neelix hadn't been upset that she wasn't able to eat his food, but when she decided to visit the doctor, he began to protest and insisted on coming with her.

"I don't know how I feel letting an artificial being give you medicine as if it knew what it was doing," said Neelix, his arm around Kes's shoulders. Kes was far paler than usual and had dark circles under her eyes.

"The crew said he's a copy of the original doctor and contains all his knowledge," said Kes, speaking softly. "They seem to trust him, so we can too."

"It's not that I don't trust him, dearest, it's just that he's not the only one who knows how to treat sickness. I had to take care of myself when I was a trader, you know, and you can't always count on there being a doctor on the next ship you saw. I developed all kinds of cures and remedies on my own, plus there was all the folk medicine I learned before I left home. I'm sure one of them will work for you."

Kes swayed dizzily as the ship lurched over a swell and Neelix caught her.

"Don't worry, Neelix," she said as he pulled her even closer. "The Doctor won't hurt me. No offense, but I need to take some medicine that I know will work."

They entered sickbay to find it already full of people. Lieutenant Carey was lying on one of the three beds, holding a bloody rag to his nose.

"You keep that maniac away from me!" shouted Carey. "I don't want her in my department. I refuse to work with her!"

"The captain will resolve this matter as she sees fit, Lieutenant," said Tuvok. "In the meantime, you and she will serve your punishments together without complaint."

"What?" Carey sat up, wincing as the doctor prodded his face. "She attacked me!"

"And you reciprocated, potentially escalating the conflict. I should not have to remind you of the consequences of striking a fellow officer."

"So now I'm facing a court martial? Look what she did to me!" He tried to leave the bed, but the doctor put a hand on his chest and shoved him back down.

"It's a miracle you survived," the Doctor snapped. "Now hold still or this will never stop bleeding." He took a few handfuls of cotton and started to pack Carey's nose with them.

"You are expected to follow orders, just as she is," said Tuvok. "Is that understood, Mr. Carey?"

"Yes, sir," said Carey, speaking through a stuffed nose. The Doctor leaned back, taking a look around the sickbay to see if anyone else needed treatment and his eyes fell on Neelix and Kes. The others who had escorted Carey in, including Tuvok, left as the pair walked in.

"What can I do for the two of you?" the Doctor asked.

"It's barely worth your attention," said Neelix. "Kes just has a trifling headache."

"It is not!" Kes glared at him. "I feel terrible."

The Doctor turned from Carey to examine Kes; checking her pulse on her wrist, inspecting her eyes and mouth for anything amiss. Neelix hovered nearby, watching closely.

"What are your symptoms?" the doctor asked.

"I'm sick to my stomach, dizzy, and disoriented."

The doctor straightened, looking disappointed.

"That's it? You came down here for a simple case of seasickness? You hardly need my help for that. Everybody gets seasick from time to time."

"Well, I've never been seasick before," said Kes. "Can't you do anything?"

He sighed as if the weight of the world had just been laid on his shoulders. He moved toward a counter full of interesting things and poured water from a pitcher into a teapot. Moments later, steam came whistling out. He emptied the steaming water into a cup and added a pinch of something.

"A little ginger tea should help with your nausea," he said, handing her the cup of spicy smelling liquid. "As for the rest, you'll adapt in time. I find it rather ponderous that someone who has never been out to sea would be posted on a ship on her maiden voyage."

Kes sipped at the tea. "Oh, I'm not part of the original crew. Captain Janeway took Neelix and I aboard after the trip started."

"And no one gave you a physical examination once you came aboard?" he said. They shook their heads. Something seemed to occur to him.

"Of course. That would be the ship's doctor's job. Which means it falls to me, whether I like it or not."

The doctor pulled a large book out of his desk and started leafing through it.

"As long as you're both here, I might as well examine you. Fortunately, it won't take long to update my records, seeing as there are only two of you."

"So you already examined all the renegades?" asked Neelix. The doctor stared at him, book forgotten on the desk.

"What renegades?"

"The crew from the other ship. They came aboard after their ship sank."

"And naturally, no one thought to inform me," said the doctor. He heaved another sigh and muttered, "It seems I've found myself on the voyage of the damned."

"I'm sure it won't take long," said Kes. "There were only a dozen of them."

"I'm sure. Mr. Carey, would you please inform the captain that I would like to speak with her?"

There was no answer. Carey had left without so much as a goodbye.

"Hmph." The doctor turned to Kes. "Would you be so kind as to pass the message to the captain, seeing as how I can't leave this room? As soon as you're feeling better, of course."

"Certainly. And thank you for the tea; it's helping." She glanced over at the bed Carey had occupied. "I didn't hear him ask if it was all right to leave."

"He didn't. People leave when they want. Nobody waits until I tell them they can and inevitably, they come back complaining about a problem I tried to warn them about."

Kes was shocked. "I thought these were good people! How can they be so rude? They shouldn't treat you like that."

The doctor shrugged. "I'm trying to get used to it. People tend to not have a lot of respect for a Construct, even if he's the one in charge of keeping them healthy." He bustled about, putting things away. "And you'd think they'd have at least a little respect for the one who not only sets broken bones and stitches up wounds, but also finds the time to treat even the smallest of toothaches."

She slid off the bed and put her hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't have to get used to it. You deserve to be treated with respect, like any other person."

"But I'm not a person. I'm just an assemblage of cohesive ether; an extremely sophisticated one, but that's all."

Kes shook her head. "I don't think so. You seem like more. I'll talk to the captain about that too."

The doctor smiled. "Thank you."

Neelix took Kes by the hand. "Come on, dear, we should get to work on dinner. See you later, doctor… you know, I don't think I heard your name."

The doctor shrugged. "I don't have one. Perhaps you could ask the captain about that as well?"

Kes smiled. "My pleasure."

As Carey and Torres were escorted away, the rest of the crew stood around, wearing looks of disbelief and disappointment. 0500 drills were not going to be fun. Janeway frowned at the sight.

"What are you all standing around for? You're on duty! Back to work!"

"Aye Captain!" shouted the crew. They headed back to their stations, calling instructions to each other.

"Captain, can I see you in your office?" asked Chakotay. Janeway nodded, mouth tight, and jerked her head toward the office door. They marched quickly across the rolling deck made slick by more rain and headed inside. Once the door was closed, Chakotay spoke.

"Now I think you're going too far," he said. The captain turned and glared at him. He didn't flinch. "You don't need to punish the whole crew for what two people did."

"The idea was for the rest of the crew to stop fights before they started to keep themselves out of trouble," said Janeway.

"I know; it's the oldest trick in the book. I used to use it when I served in Seafleet. But I don't think this is a situation it's suited for. You aren't going to win any favor with the crew by forcing them all to do calisthenics every morning."

"It encourages discipline," said Janeway, getting a hard look in her eye. "That is something no ship can function without. If it makes me unpopular, then so be it."

Chakotay saw in her eyes and posture that she didn't want to be unpopular and he took it as a sign that she could be swayed; if not, at least willing to hear him out.

"You need trust before you can have discipline," he said. "The Seafleeters trust you, but a lot of the renegades still don't. You have to show them that you trust them first."

"What are you trying to say, Commander?"

Chakotay took a steadying breath. This was going to be the hardest part.

"You need a renegade on the senior staff."

"I already have one – you."

Frustration had been welling inside him since the beginning, but it all seemed to come to a boil at that one statement. She was so arrogant in her rank and knowledge; thinking she had all the answers because she was a Seafleet captain. She had dismissed his suggestion with a wave of her hand, as if he only mattered - or indeed had only been made an officer – to keep the renegades in line. And that, he thought to himself, is outside of enough.

"I'm not going to be your token renegade officer!" he said, not quite shouting. "You want the crew to work together? Get along better? Then set an example. Show the senior officers integrating, Seafleet and renegade alike. Give them another renegade officer to prove they're being fairly represented."

"And who do you recommend, Commander?" she said, speaking in a low voice.

"Make B'Elanna Torres the new bosun."

Janeway looked aghast. "You want me to put that wild woman in charge of deck operations?"

Chakotay bristled. "She's not wild, she's just…expressive. And she's brilliant. She got us out of more scrapes than I can count. She deserves to be the bosun with the talent she has."

The captain set her jaw. "She's facing a court martial for striking a fellow officer."

"So is Carey. And you and I both know that that's not going to happen this far away from Federation waters. You can punish them however you think is fair, but by the time it's over, one of them is going to be chosen as bosun because no one else is qualified. And I think you should choose B'Elanna, not just for the sake of the renegades, but because she'd do a better job."

Janeway stepped closer to him, speaking almost in his face. "People wait years for a position like this to become available to them. What do I tell Carey, that he's good, but some former rebel might be better?"

"Her past isn't in question here. This is about skills and experience and know-how. If you aren't going to promote people based on that, then how can you do it based on seniority alone and call it fair?"

Janeway folded her arms and regarded him without comment. Chakotay relaxed a little; she was taking him seriously. He took another calming breath and went on.

"Ask yourself this: how much experience does Carey have trying to improvise solutions with minimal supplies? That's not something they teach at the academy. He might be qualified by academics, but he can't think outside the rulebook. That's something you learn on the open water. We couldn't rely on support from allies and neither can you. She knows what she's doing. That's why you need her."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word on this?"

"Of course not. Talk to her. Get to know her. I know you want the crew to have a fair chance too, but you aren't going to know how to give them that chance unless you talk to them. You said you were going to trust me – shouldn't you trust my judgment too?"

The captain sighed. "All right, Commander, you've made your point. I'll talk to her. But don't take this to mean I've made my choice yet. And don't think I'll let her out of her out of her punishment."

Chakotay nodded. "Of course not."

"Dismissed." He left without another word, but feeling better on B'Elanna's behalf. The hard part now would be getting B'Elanna herself to listen to the captain.