Miles To Go Before I Sleep

A Voyager/Crusade crossover by Taya 17 Janeway.

I know I'm getting worse. I can't help it.

Chapter Five: Learning to Integrate

The new uniform was distracting, he thought; he couldn't quite keep the bright yellow shoulders of his jacket out of his peripheral vision. It was also a shade tighter than the clothing the replicator had provided for him so far, although it was similar to the uniform he had been purportedly been wearing when Voyager had rescued him. B'Elanna had assured him that he would get used to the sensation; "soon it'll be like a second skin," she had said. He supposed that she would know, having been unwillingly inducted into this ship's crew after they had been stranded from Earth.

The past few weeks, to put it mildly, had been frustrating. Other than a few other jigsaw pieces of his past, he still hadn't any more clue as to who he was, or used to be. The only thing that they'd established so far was that he wasn't from the local sector of space, and had no connection to the Cepylaspoa whatsoever. The days after the initial attack had been the worst of all; the whole crew had been walking on eggshells, expecting another devastating attack to come out of the blue. But the days turned into weeks, and the tension eased as it became apparent that the brush with the Cepylaspoa may just have been a one-off incident.

And in the meantime, he had been trying to find himself a place on this ship. It wasn't easy, but the crew was accustomed to dealing with new crewmembers. Neelix, the cook who seemed too cheerful for someone who had been through the genocide of his world, told him that after a whole string of Borg, he seemed almost to nice to be true.

He was quick enough not to miss Neelix's emphasis on "almost".

It was true that for someone with literally no privileges on the ship, he had been rather demanding. And after a lot of hounding, Janeway had finally acquiesced to his request- or pandering, depending on how one chose to look at it- and gave him the field rank of acting lieutenant, and put him in Security. So that at least, now he had a job to do on this ship. When he first asked for a post on the ship he was afraid Janeway would put him in Engineering (it seemed he knew less about Federation technology than his own past), but she had quite wisely posted him to Security. Tuvok had given him a few combat training lessons so far, and found him to be more than satisfactory material-- top-flight, in fact. Janeway guessed that he had some form of military training in his past life.

His past life. It seemed to be a thing that he left further and further behind each day; that was something he would have to accept. Not having a past, not having an identity, but creating a new one from the life he would have to lead here. As he stared down at the brightly colored rectangular buttons at his fingertips, he thought that it wasn't all that bad a choice. At least he didn't have a family to pine for in the Alpha Quadrant.

It was his first day at Tactical, on the bridge. Harry had described it as "a cushy day job when things are running smoothly, and the office from hell when things go bad." So far, things today had been good. After logging in, the computer gave him updates on the ship's systems and surroundings every five minutes. All he had to do was sit in the chair and make sure nothing went wrong. And try to ignore the damned annoying yellow shoulders.

The turbolift door beside him slid open and out Ayala, replacing him for the duty shift. The broad-shouldered lieutenant smiled slightly at him as he vacated the seat. "How's it going so far?" Ayala asked.

He made a deferential gesture. "Nothing unusual."

Ayala clapped him solidly on the shoulder as he headed for the turbolift.

"Deck nine." As the turbolift descended, Stranger adjusted his collar absently. He had dinner with the captain tonight. They ate together often; it seemed that she was putting extra effort in providing for his welfare. She seemed extremely concerned over how well he was integrating with the crew. Stranger could appreciate her concern, but-

A sudden jolt broke him from his train of thought. The lights flickered once, ominously, then dimmed. Harry Kim's voice filtered in over the comm: "Red Alert. All hands to battle stations."

Stranger suddenly realized he hadn't been assigned a battle station, so he did the next most natural thing: he told the turbolift to proceed to the bridge.

On bridge the lights had been darkened, and a dim red glow permeated throughout. Janeway was back standing in the center of the bridge, having been called out of the ready room. "Report," she said tersely.

"We were hit by a heavy gravimetric surge," reported Kim, now back at the conn. "Shields are down to fifteen percent, hull stresses on decks four, five, seven to thirteen inclusive. Warp drive is offline."

"Could it have been the Cepylaspoa?" asked Janeway.

"Unknown," said Harry heavily.

Stranger strode onto the middle section of the bridge. "Can we trace the source of that gravimetric surge?" he asked.

Janeway turned to him and fixed him with a piercing stare. "Lieutenant," she said sharply, "what are you doing here?"

Stranger gazed coolly back at her. "I have no assigned duty station. This seemed to be the only reasonable place to be."

Janeway's eyes narrowed. "You don't belong here," she said harshly.

The words struck a raw nerve; it was as if something cold had contracted in his chest. "I guess you're right," he said heavily. "I'll return to my quarters." Stupid. He should have thought of that earlier. Except that… he just had this urge to be where all the action was.

But as he turned to leave, she caught him by the wrist. "Wait. Stranger." He turned back, and her expression was a lot less severe. "I'm sorry, I overreacted. I was just… upset about being interrupted on the bridge." She released his wrist. "Please stay."

The turbolift arrived, bringing Chakotay and Seven. Stranger shifted slightly uncomfortably as Chakotay brushed past him and took his place at Janeway's right side. "What's going on?" he asked.

"We were hit by a gravimetric surge, origin unknown. Ensign?" Janeway returned to her seat and crossed her legs crisply as she sat.

"I have a lock on the source," said Kim from the conn. "It's an M-class planet, half a light-year away from our current position."

"Any activity in surrounding space?" asked Janeway.

"Negative."

"Hmm." Janeway rubbed her chin with the hand she'd propped on the armrest for a moment, then turned to gaze at Stranger. "Any ideas?"

He felt mildly surprised at her asking him for an opinion, but quashed the feeling immediately. "We should move closer to get a look at that source with the short-range sensors," he said.

"That's what I thought." She turned to her first mate. "Chakotay?"

"Seems like a good idea." The bearlike officer's expression was unreadable.

Janeway nodded. "Mister Paris, set a course for the source of the surge, full impulse."

"Aye."

Janeway turned and gave Stranger a small smile. And for that brief moment he suddenly felt as if he had belonged here, in the center of the bridge, all his life.