Conflict of Interest

Source Episodes: VOY 01x10 Prime Factors, 01x11 State of Flux

Personal Log, Eelo Talia: Stardate 48650.3

For the past several days, the crew has been enjoying the hospitality of a planet called Sikaris, whose people offered us free shore leave. We dubbed it "Risa in the Delta Quadrant," because it is an absolute paradise where the people value pleasure, art, and stories above all else. I think Tom and I may have traumatized poor Harry, though. When the local women we were spending the day with took us to their nude beach, we stripped off our clothes and jumped right in. I've never seen him turn so red. He still can't look at me without blushing.

We're back on course for the Alpha Quadrant now, and I'm about to get started on my first big assignment— annual crew evaluations. Captain Janeway wants me to evaluate the former Maquis— including Tom— first, before I move on to the rest of the crew. This is going to be a very interesting experience, to say the least.

Since crew evaluations are a collaboration between a ship's counselor and first officer, I'll be working very closely with Chakotay. Both of us are quite practiced at keeping work and personal lives separate, but it may still make for an awkward time.

Our relationship has become so volatile lately. One day, we'll be counting down the seconds until shift's end, so we can run back to my quarters or his. The next day, we'll be screaming at each other.

In short, we're a mess.

Chakotay will be the first of the group to do his assessment with me. Normally, I'd be obligated to refer him to a different counselor, but this isn't exactly a normal situation.

Four months on the job and I'm already committing ethical treason.

Breathe, Talia. If Betazoids can do it, then so can I. I just need to think about the relationship like a Betazoid would. Or, I could ask Captain Janeway to make me a pilot instead.

"So, any pathologies that I should be worried about?" Chakotay asked me curtly.

"No," I informed him. "No pathologies, but I'm not done yet. We still have the talk portion to get through."

He let out an irritated sigh. "Well, what can I tell you? My parents hugged me plenty as a child. I am confident in my own identity. My relationships here are going well." When I raised my eyebrows at him, he added, "mostly." Then, he shrugged. "What else would you like to know?"

"Why do you think you're so resistant to psychotherapy?"

"What does this have to do with my evaluation?"

"Just answer the question."

He crossed his arms. "Not to be rude, but it seems like a waste of time. I already have an animal guide to counsel me. Some people pray or meditate. Other people have friends that they feel more comfortable talking to. I don't see why it's necessary to force counselors on everyone when there are so many more natural ways of handling emotions."

I nodded. "That's fair."

Chakotay was taken aback. "Really?"

I smiled calmly, amused by his surprise. "Really. I pray, and I meditate; you know that. And, I have friends that I talk to. All of these are perfectly acceptable mechanisms for managing emotions."

He eyed me suspiciously, waiting for the catch. "You're not going to defend your position?"

"You haven't challenged it."

His brow furrowed. "Then why are we doing this? Just for the sake of procedure?"

I leaned slightly forward in my chair. "Let me ask you something. Why do you think Starfleet requires its personnel to undergo regular physicals?"

"To ensure the optimal health of its people. When all personnel are healthy, the ship's operations run more efficiently."

"Wouldn't you agree that emotional health is just as important to the ship's operating efficiency?"

"I guess you could say that."

"That's all this is, Chakotay; it's an emotional and psychological check-up. Now, tell me, how well do you think you're doing at your job here on Voyager?"

"Oh, I definitely think I've got things down here," Tom declared with assurance. "Don't get me wrong, I was pretty wound up with Starfleet when Captain Janeway came to see me at the penal colony, but that's all behind me now. There's no way they'll want to cut me loose when we get back. Not after this."

"So, if we got home today, would you want to go back to Starfleet?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far."

"But you're more confident in your ability to be a productive member of society now?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm telling you, Tal, the worst is behind me. I've got you and Harry, a ship full of people who are lonely for company, and I get to pilot the Federation's most advanced starship through uncharted space. What more could I ask for?"

"Why don't you tell me, Tom? What else would you want if you could ask for it?"

"Well, it would be nice if the junior engineers weren't such complete fucking idiots," B'Elanna groused. "I mean, how hard is it to realign a plasma coil? That's basic! What the hell are they even doing for four years at the academy?"

"How do you deal with it when they make mistakes on simple jobs?"

"It depends. I usually ask one of the other engineers to show them the right way to do it."

"Do you ever lose your temper at your personnel?"

She snorted. "Of course I lose my temper with them sometimes! You know how I am, and you wouldn't believe some of the idiotic things they do. But, I try not to let them bother me, and I'd like to think I'm getting better at it."

"Why do you think it's been difficult for you to adjust to this new way of doing things?"

Lon shook his head. "Oh no, you're mistaken, Talia. I'm not having any trouble at all. I feel no anger or bitterness towards any of them. They're only doing their job. And B'Elanna being the chief helps to balance things out between Starfleet and Maquis."

"So you think the personnel in engineering are coping well?"

"Absolutely. You have nothing to worry about there."

"Have you ever come into conflict with anyone else, even over little things?"

"Not once."

There had to be something to this guy. I had seen first-hand the rage he kept inside, only released in battle with Cardassians. "No latent feelings of anger towards anyone?"

He remained completely cool. "None at all."

"No violent impulses?"

"Do you worry about me, Little Eelo? You did your best to hide it, and you did what you had to do, but I knew you didn't have the head for violence, not like your mother. Everyone saw what they wanted to see in you, but I saw the truth. You despised the Cardassians, but you never wanted them to die."

"That's very perceptive, Lon. I thought you said you never learned how to distinguish your telepathic sensory input from your other senses?"

"It's not something I felt from you. I could see it in your eyes."

That caught my attention. I wondered if his brain confused visual and empathetic sensory input. "Do you often get a strong sense of people by looking at them?"

"Sometimes, all I have to do is look at them, and I know they still don't trust us." Seska's green eyes narrowed at me— a sign that my affect was out of check. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Eelo'chali, your little plan to integrate the crews is working better than most of us thought it would. But don't think for a second that it's going to last. They still hate us, deep down. We'll always be criminals in Starfleet's eyes. Even you won't be safe when it falls apart, no matter how much you cozy up to Captain Janeway."

I laced my fingers in my lap and forced my face into neutrality. "What makes you say that?"

Seska shrugged nonchalantly. "I just know. If you pay close enough attention, you can see it. Well—" She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you can't. You Terrans growing up in your paradise on Earth don't understand people the same way we do."

"Who is 'we?'"

"People like me, of course."

"As in, people who grew up with pressures like war, oppression, and poverty?"

She snorted. "Pressures? You think war and starvation are pressures? You think slavery or torture or rape are pressures? Watching your friends and family die around you? What do you know of real pressure, Starfleet?"

"You're right, Seska, 'pressure' is an inappropriate word. I apologize." I paused, cursing myself for my thoughtless language. "This is the first time I recall you saying anything about your family. Would you like to tell me more about them?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Okay, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Let's talk about your off-duty time. Do you believe that you're building positive relationships with others here?"

"Well, I've still got my friends from the Maquis. Torres. Chakotay." She paused to watch me for a reaction, but I offered none. "B'Elanna has been hanging out with Tom and Harry, of course, so I've gotten to know them, too. I think I'm doing just fine."

"I can't do it," I confessed to Captain Janeway. After writing up notes on my session with Seska, I marched straight up to the captain's ready room. My hands were shaky and sweating. I clenched them into fists. "This isn't going to work."

"Slow down, Lieutenant," Janeway soothed. "Have a seat. What can you not do?"

My job, was all I could think. My jaw locked up. I perched tensely on the edge of a chair set in front of the captain's desk. My leg jiggled; I thought about stopping it, but I needed the release.

Janeway's face tightened with concern. "Lieutenant?"

With my thumb, I traced the outline of a scar at the center of my palm. A memory flashed through my mind, and I stuffed both hands under my thighs. "Chakotay and Seska," I said. "I can't build a therapeutic relationship with them."

"I can understand why assessing Commander Chakotay might be a conflict of interests," she conceded, "but why Ensign Seska?"

"It's complicated."

"I'm going to need more of an explanation than that."

I met her sharp gaze. "I assure you, Captain, it has nothing to do with our duty. It won't interfere with our ability to serve Voyager."

She folded her hands. "Seems to me that it already has."

"It's private." My voice sounded so small. A plea for mercy.

The captain pursed her lips. I had put her in a difficult spot. It wasn't as if she could simply assign the task to someone else. No one was qualified to do it except for me. The EMH was programmed to treat psychiatric conditions, but he lacked the clinical training and experience necessary to assess their emotional well-being.

Janeway needed an explanation. She deserved one. She was the captain, after all.

"It isn't just a conflict of interests," I offered. "The standards governing counselors were relaxed when Betazed joined the Federation, but most other humanoid species agree that it is unethical to enter a dual relationship of a sexual nature. Beyond that, it is a counselor's duty to terminate therapy if they feel that any type of dual relationship will be detrimental to the client." I swallowed hard. "Seska and I—" How could I possibly explain? "Chakotay was in a relationship with Seska briefly before he and I— ah, no. I'm making him sound bad. It wasn't that simple. He didn't—"

Janeway held up a hand. "I don't need to know the details, Lieutenant. Are you trying to tell me that there's bad blood between you and Ensign Seska?"

I nodded. "I already assessed both her and Chakotay to the best of my abilities, and I still intend to submit reports. But I cannot, in good conscience, be a therapist to them right now. Beyond that, I must be upfront with you in that my reports will likely not be unbiased, despite my best efforts. I'm sorry, Captain."

She nodded. "I understand. Thank you for coming to me. This is a difficult situation for all of us. I expected there to be some bumps along the way, but I believe that honesty and open communication will go a long way in smoothing these things out. I know you are doing your best, Lieutenant."

On the surface of an uninhabited M-class planet, Kes and I were getting an education from Voyager's botanist— Dr. Mona Klegglachen— when Chakotay's voice rang out over the com. "All units, report to transport site immediately."

It took a few minutes for everyone to pack up and make their way to the coordinates. Our group was the second to arrive; Neelix's was the last.

As Chakotay com'ed the transporter room, I double-checked each unit's headcount. Neelix's group was one short.

I tapped my combadge. "Eelo to Seska."

No response.

I exchanged a glance with Chakotay, who stepped up beside me. "Transporter room one," he com'ed, "can you locate Ensign Seska's combadge?"

"Negative, Commander," came the reply. "No sign of her."

Harry joined us. "She was picking berries with our group over by the hillside. There were caves nearby."

"If she went inside one," Chakotay mused, "it might be blocking her combadge signal." He glanced from Harry to me. "The rest of you get back to the ship. I'm going to look for her."

I raised an eyebrow. "Alone?"

We all knew that one-man missions went against Starfleet protocol. Chakotay sighed.

"She was in my unit," Neelix said. "I'll help you find her, Commander."

After returning to Voyager, we learned why Captain Janeway had been so concerned. There was a Kazon ship hiding in orbit of the planet. Although the vessel did not attack, Chakotay, Neelix and Seska did get into a brief firefight with two Kazon in the cave where they found Seska hiding. Neelix suffered minor injuries, but no real harm was done.

Or, so it seemed.

That evening, Captain Janeway called all senior staff to the bridge. Voyager had recieved a general distress call from a Kazon vessel in serious trouble.

As I made my way to the science station, Tuvok reported, "The ship's dimensions are identical to the vessel we encountered at the planet. It is a Kazon-Nistrim ship."

"Captain," Neelix warned, "this may be a trap. The Kazon-Nistrim is one of the most violent sects in the entire Kazon collective."

On the viewscreen, the recorded image of a Kazon man looped over again. "We need immediate assistance. We have lost all bridge operations. Barely able to function. Please assist."

The captain paused for a moment to watch the man on the viewer. She turned to Harry at ops. "Mister Kim, can you determine that this ship has sustained genuine damage?"

Harry took some quick measurements at his console. "There are fluctuating nucleonic patterns. It might indicate a reactor breakdown on board."

Janeway looked to Tom. "Mister Paris, run an extended scanner sequence to identify any other Kazon ships that might be in the area."

The bridge fell silent as Tom completed the task. "Nothing showing up, Captain."

"Maintain scans and set a heading to intercept."

"New heading entered."

Crossing to where our Delta Quadrant guide stood, Janeway adopted a gentler tone. "I take your warning seriously, Neelix, and we will act with caution. But if we can help them, we should. Besides," she added, glancing to Chakotay, "this may be an opportunity to make a friend. And, out here, we can use all the friends we can get."

Neelix nodded. "I understand, Captain."

Janeway smiled at him, then turned to the center of the bridge. "It'll be several hours before we reach them. I suggest we get some rest between now and then."

Upon our dismissal, I followed Chakotay back to his quarters. "It's strange," I mused.

He keyed the entry code into the small panel beside his door. "What's that?"

"A ship from the most violent Kazon sect shows up, alone, to hide behind sensor tricks and do nothing while we pick berries and dig up roots."

Chakotay shuddered a bit at my mention of the Delta Quadrant's most ubiquitous superfood— the leola root. It was disgusting.

I flopped on the couch. "Then, we run across an identical ship from the same sect, sending out a general distress call."

Chakotay shrugged, settling beside me. "We're probably in Nistrim territory."

"Then why not send a distress call to other Nistrim ships? No, something isn't right here. Doesn't this seem a bit coincidental to you?"

"Alright," he admitted. "It does seem suspicious."

I sighed, stretching my body across the couch and resting my head on Chakotay's lap. "Captain Janeway needs to learn how to temper her Starfleet altruism with some cold, hard reality."

He stroked my hair. "Like you did when you joined the Maquis?"

I chuckled and nodded. "Right." With my next inhalation came the faint scent of something familiar— something repulsive. I cast my eyes around the room until I saw a metal bowl on the dinner table.

Mushroom soup.

On the planet, Seska had wandered into a cave to gather mushrooms. Clearly, she used those mushrooms to make Chakotay a bowl of his favorite soup while Neelix was in sickbay. It was distasteful, considering that Neelix had been wounded while rescuing her from the Kazon. If not for that, Seska never would have gained access to his kitchen.

Two spoons laid beside the bowl, used. Chakotay and Seska must have been eating when Captain Janeway called senior staff to the bridge.

Where was I through all this? Putting in overtime to finish both of their psychological reports.

It wasn't that I felt jealous over Chakotay's attention. Although neither of us were seeing people outside of each other, we weren't exactly an exclusive sort of couple. But I would be damned if I let Seska sink her claws into Chakotay ever again.

Relying on one of the most powerful tools at my disposal, I shifted onto my knees and took Chakotay's mouth with mine. Piece by piece, I did away with our uniforms and their prescribed Federation ideals. This was reality, naked and flawed and so much closer to the soul than those uniforms could ever be.

Yeah, so I played dirty. I wanted to be damn sure that no amount of homemade mushroom soup could ever make Chakotay forget who really had his back. No matter how often we fought, or how strongly we disagreed, it could never change the most basic tenet of our relationship.

Chakotay and I always looked out for each other.

The first thing I noticed when I woke was the smell of stale mushroom soup. It instantly made me nauseous. I opened my eyes, and there was only darkness. The hum of generators provided low level background noise. I laid, alone, on a hard makeshift bed. How had I gotten there? I couldn't remember anything. I moved to push myself up, but screamed at the searing pain in my hands.

A door whooshed open— where was I that had mechanized doors?— and white light spilled into the room as a man rushed to my bedside.

"Talia!" Chakotay sounded panicked. "What happened? Are you okay?" He reached for me, but I recoiled.

In the light from the other room, I was able to see my hands. I expected blood and gore, or dirty bandages. Only scars remained, marring the center of my otherwise normal palms. I gaped at Chakotay.

His expression became mournful. "Talia, you're safe. We're on Voyager now, remember? They can't hurt you anymore."

I panted, trying to separate the past from the present. Voyager. I was on Voyager, in Chakotay's quarters. I had a dream about something that happened months prior, but it was over. I was not in danger anymore.

So why did I feel threatened?

Pulling my mouth closed, I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. Usually, that helped to ground me and calm me down. Instead, my stomach lurched.

Mushroom soup. I smelled stale mushroom soup, just like the day I woke up in a Maquis medical ward. Seska had brought Chakotay some while he waited for surgeons to put my mangled hands back together.

Bitch.

I shot to my feet, collecting clothes from the floor and yanking them on. I had to get out of there.

Chakotay grabbed my arm. "Talia, wait—"

Wrenching free from his grasp, I shoved him back. "Get away from me!"

He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Don't you get it?" I spat, pulling on the last of my uniform. "You already have!" I stormed towards the entryway, knocking the bowl and its contents from the dinner table on my way out.

As his door shut behind me, I paused in the corridor to catch my breath. Clean air rushed into my lungs and soothed the churning in my stomach.

Damn Seska, Chakotay and their horrid mushroom soup.