September 2371
"I shouldn't have even told you."
"Don't be like that, B'Elanna," her father scolded from the monitor. They wouldn't be in range of direct subspace communications with Kessik once they left DS9, and B'Elanna had wanted to say goodbye to her parents before their mission got underway. "You know I'm always here for you to talk. But you can't expect me to not say anything when you nearly get arrested on your first day of a new assignment."
"I didn't nearly get arrested," she huffed. "I just said the station's Chief of Security detained me. Briefly. Once I explained the situation he let me go." It was really the ops officer whose hide she'd just saved that had done the explaining, as she had been too angry to trust herself to speak calmly. But her father didn't need to know that.
"I'm just trying to remind you," John said, "that you've been given a great opportunity here. One that we didn't think you'd ever get. I don't want your superiors questioning their decision to assign you to Voyager before you even start."
"I know, Dad," she said, as she crossed her arms.
"This is your chance to make a fresh start. To be the officer and engineer I know you can be. Just… try to get along with people. Stop trying to prove to everyone you're the smartest one in the room. Maybe make some friends."
B'Elanna noted the lines of worry that creased her father's forehead. She wondered how many she was personally responsible for.
"I have made friends!" she insisted, perhaps too strenuously - but sometimes he spoke to her like she was still a sullen teenager. To be fair, "friend" was probably a bit of an exaggeration for what the green ensign she'd met on DS9 was; she couldn't even remember his first name. Henry?
"That's a good start." Her father smiled. "Now just remember - you need to let your superiors set the tone. If they want to hear your ideas, they'll ask. No one is going to hear what you have to contribute if you try to shove it down their throats-"
"That's not what I do!" B'Elanna interrupted with indignation.
"I know that's not what you think you do, B'Elanna. But you have to listen to yourself. Sometimes you sound so…" John took a deep breath. "Well, the point is, you catch more flies-"
"With honey. I get it." B'Elanna sighed, having heard the expression from him a hundred times before. "I'm trying, Dad. I really am."
"I know you are," John said, and B'Elanna could detect the note of resignation. She felt a familiar wave of nausea when she realized he was disappointed in her once again.
"Is Mother around?" B'Elanna asked, deciding the best bet was to just change the subject. Miral didn't always agree with her life choices, but at least she would see the humor of the altercation with the Ferengi.
"Uh...I'm not sure." John's expression flattened. "I haven't seen her since this morning. She might be in the garden. I can check. If you want me to."
B'Elanna deferred to his obvious reluctance, and shook her head. It was a short mission, after all. She'd be able to call her mother again in a couple of weeks. "No, it's fine. I'm supposed to meet with the Chief. I don't want to be late."
"That's the spirit!" he said, brightening again. "I'll tell her you called, and give her your love. I love you, Little Bee."
"Me, too, Dad," she said automatically before closing the console. If they loved each other so much, why was it that these days B'Elanna felt worse after every conversation?
She made her way down the corridors of her new posting to her meeting with the Chief Engineer. She was actually going to be early at this rate, despite what she'd told her father. It gave her time to admire her new, if temporary, home. Voyager was one of the new Intrepid-class vessels - fifteen decks, top cruising speed of Warp 9.975, and the first ship to leave spacedock that used the new bioneural circuitry.
B'Elanna never thought she'd get the chance to work on a shiny new ship like this one. Her lackluster grades at the Academy meant she'd been stuck in one dead end position after another - shuttle maintenance on a short-range supply ship, plasma manifold upkeep on a science vessel, transporter technician at Utopia Planitia - and those were only the longer assignments. The last had been the worst - within a hair's breadth of some of the most exciting developments in warp technology, but prohibited by her low level security clearance to even hear the details of what they were doing. Inevitably at each posting, she'd ended up butting heads with some know-it-all lieutenant or maybe a pompous bureaucrat with a stick up their ass, and within days she'd get another notification of transfer, with no option to appeal. Her father would remind her that she needed to put her head down, and work hard, and someone would soon notice her talent; her mother would not so gently suggest she tell the Starfleet petaQs to go to hell, and hand in her resignation if they didn't see her worth. All B'Elanna knew was that she was unhappy and frustrated, and she didn't know how to fix it.
But then her latest posting showed up on her console. B'Elanna had reacted angrily to start. She'd been on her best behavior for the past three months, and hadn't fought with anyone at UP, having harbored a small, private hope that one of the warp scientists would suddenly discover they had an engineering genius in their midst, toiling away in the obscurity of the transporter room. But then she'd read the assignment: Voyager.
It was a lower level engineering position, to be sure. But it was actually in Engineering - not the transporter room, not flushing EPS relays. It was finally at least a hint of what she'd known she'd wanted to do that long ago day when she'd first told her parents that she was going to apply to Starfleet Academy (to her father's pride and her mother's vexation). She hadn't been lying when she talked to John - she really was going to try to make this work. She wanted this to be her fresh start as much as her father did.
"Ensign Torres." Commander Jora beckoned her over to a console in the center of Engineering within moments of B'Elanna's arrival. "Let me just take care of this, and then we can head to my office."
"Can I ask what the problem is, Commander?" B'Elanna said, with as much respect as she could muster. It wasn't a difficulty in this case. B'Elanna had worked under the Betazoid engineer once before, on the Herschel, and had admired the woman's ingenuity and depth of knowledge. Considering how that posting had turned out, clearly Jora didn't remember her - if she did, the older woman probably would have shot her out the nearest airlock.
"It's this bioneural circuitry," the Chief said as she bent over the workstation. "It may mean faster response time, but these gel packs are as fussy as an overtired toddler. The smallest shift in environment, and they throw a temper tantrum. Isolinear circuits are looking better and better." Jora straightened, and dusted off her hands on her pants. "Lieutenant Carey!" she called to a man standing on the other side of the core. "We should be good to go now. I'll be in my office. Let's go, Torres."
"I heard you already had a run-in with Carey," Jora began, not even giving B'Elanna a chance to fully sit in the offered chair.
Fuck. "Commander, I… Um…" B'Elanna stuttered. "I'm sorry. It was just… I did some studying - on the gel packs, that is - and given the way they operate - using fuzzy logic? - I thought setting operating parameters as strictly as you would with an isolinear system was stu- I mean, it sort of defeats the purpose. Of having the new circuitry. I'm sorry," she repeated. God, she had already screwed this up. What is wrong with me?
"You're not wrong," Jora replied. "Carey's a good man and you could learn a lot from him, but being adaptable is not one of his strengths. I've told him to use the settings you suggested."
"Thank you, Commander," B'Elanna said, stunned that the other woman had considered her ideas.
"Apparently being diplomatic isn't one of yours," Jora continued, her perceptive Betazoid eyes holding B'Elanna's in a steady gaze. "Your strengths, I mean."
B'Elanna dropped her eyes to her lap. "No, Commander."
Jora leaned back in her chair. "I remember you from the Herschel. That's why I requested you be assigned here."
B'Elanna looked up at this. "You remember me? You asked for me? Specifically?"
"Don't look so surprised, Torres." Jora smiled at her. "You're obviously smart, and you're creative, too. A formidable combo in an engineering department. I've looked over some of the work you did at the Academy. It's rough, but it shows promise. You have good ideas in there." She gestured with her chin towards B'Elanna's head.
"Most of my professors didn't seem to think so," B'Elanna muttered, knowing and hating that she sounded like a sulky child.
Jora was still smiling. "It's hard to find the good ideas under the complete disregard for proper formatting and presentation." The commander came around to the front of her desk, sitting on the edge so she was directly in front of her subordinate. "Torres. B'Elanna. I like you. I liked you on the Herschel, and I like you now. I want you to succeed here. But in order to do that - you need to meet me halfway."
"I know," B'Elanna said with a sigh. "Keep my head down and my mouth shut. Do the job I'm assigned to."
"Well, that sounds boring," Jora laughed. "I was thinking maybe you just could start by not assuming the entire world is out to get you. If you have an idea, great - but I want to hear it first. Come to me directly, or submit a proposal. This is your chance to show off a little, B'Elanna. Captain Janeway is known for cultivating officers that have a knack for unusual thinking. You just might be one of those people. You can have a home here. If you want it."
B'Elanna felt her face flush with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "Thank you, Commander. I'll do my best."
"Good," Jora said, "Now about-" The door chime interrupted her thought. "Enter."
A tall woman with dark hair and a red-shouldered uniform entered - another Betazoid, if B'Elanna had to guess based on her dark eyes and silent greeting to Jora, her fellow telepath.
"Aloud, Lieutenant," Jora admonished the new arrival. "We're in mixed company."
"My apologies, Ensign," the lieutenant said, nodding at B'Elanna. "I need to discuss some things with Commander Jora. We need to ensure the helm is at top responsiveness, Commander. The pilot of the Maquis ship has quite the reputation."
"Your timing couldn't be better, Stadi," Jora said as she rose from her desk. "Torres here has some very interesting ideas on maximizing the functioning of the bioneural circuitry. I don't care if the Maquis have the best pilot in the Alpha Quadrant, they won't stand a chance once we've got Voyager working at her full potential. Come on, Torres. Show me what you can do."