Ch 3. Lieutenant Commander

1603 hours. Shit.

"Hey, you there!" B'Elanna Torres assaulted her nearest gold-clad lackey. "Come here and finish configuring the Tactical station for me, all right?" She preferred to do things personally, but unfortunately, she was late for the senior staff briefing, so she had no choice but to relinquish her position at the comm to her crewman. He was more than qualified, of course; she had mostly gotten to hand-pick her engineers for this mission, and B'Elanna's standards far outdid those of Starfleet.

As she hurried down the familiar corridors, she wondered what the new Captain would of her tardiness. Admiral Janeway could attest to her efficiency until she was blue in the face, but who knew if it would mean anything? B'Elanna had never encountered an android of his caliber, though she had heard about him years ago and always marvelled at the concept. It was one thing to displease a human, but to piss off technology was not the kind of strain she really needed in her life.

At the appropriate door panel, she typed in an access code, and beneath the separating "whoosh" of the automated doors, she could just discern a greeting addressed to the Captain. As she stumbled in, she found a nearly full table with a single open seat, sandwiched between Seven of Nine and a Bajoran brunette. Slinking uncomfortably to her seat brought back memories of Starfleet Academy, which, given the brief and often chaotic nature of her time there, hardly boded well for her new assignment. "My apologies, Captain, Admirals," she offered, head slightly bowed. "Got a little side-tracked with the last-minute repairs."

Her apology seemed more or less accepted, yet she felt a lingering glare across the ridges of her forehead. She glanced across the table at its source: a very large, very angry-looking Klingon woman who, much to B'Elanna's discontent, wore pips that marked her as a superior officer. "Now," the Klingon Commander growled, rising to her feet, "If there aren't any more interruptions, I believe introductions are in order."

Directing her slowly calming attention to the Captain, she continued. Motioning to the appropriate parties, she said, "You've already been acquainted with Admiral Paris, and I'm sure you've heard of Admiral Janeway." The inflection she used as she said the second name struck B'Elanna as odd in a vaguely humorous way; a palpable tension between the half- and full-Klingon women was already mounting, yet here was the Commander with clearly overflowing respect for a woman B'Elanna had spent years with. She had often felt lucky to work with then-Captain Janeway, but that feeling intensified now for entirely new reasons.

B'Elanna's thoughts were drawn back to the conversation by the sound of her own name. "Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres" was noticeably more hostile than the introductions that followed. "Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram and Chief Medical Officer, Counselor Barris Hana, Lieutenant Toll Jexx, Lieutenant Nog, and Ensign Annika Hansen."

"And I am Commander J'Tava of the House of Lorok," she concluded. Her manner challenged anyone to contest her family name, and if B'Elanna would have had something to go on, she might have, just out of spite. So for now, she let it pass as J'Tava sat back down.

In this moment, Captain Data stood. "Thank you for that wonderful introduction, Commander. I am sure this crew will be very successful in all of our endeavours. It is very nice to meet all of you." From any other source, B'Elanna might have doubted the sincerity of the statement, but she was not entirely sure if the Captain was even programmed to deceive. She would have to consult whatever variant of a manual Commander La Forge had compiled.

"I am Captain Data," he continued. B'Elanna idly noted the crispness of his "T" sounds. "I believe that in order to fully gain and deserve your respect, I ought to provide you with a bit of background as to my credentials to reassure you that I am deserving of my position. I graduated from Starfleet Academy in 2348 with honors in exobiology and probability mechanics. I spent three years as an Ensign, then twelve years as a Lieutenant aboard-"

"Captain, while I appreciate your zeal, I think you may find it more useful to hear about the mission than tell your life story, don't you?" Admiral Janeway had a way of interrupting that made it feel almost like a privilege. Perhaps it was in her smile.

"Excellent advice, Admiral," Data replied sheepishly before slowly lowering himself back into his chair. Then he leaned forward eagerly, elbows resting on the table and fingers weaved together. "Now please: tell us about the mission."

The two Admirals glanced at one another as if to debate who would begin. Though no audible discussion occurred, a decision was clearly reached; when they turned back, Paris slumped in his seat, and Janeway leaned forward. "Since Voyager returned home, our records of previous altercations with the Borg have been used in an attempt to create a better defensive strategy against them." she began. "The resulting advancements have been outfitted, as it happens, for Voyager itself to go safely into Borg territory for further intelligence-gathering."

"We need to be able to pick them up sooner, defend better, and fight harder," Janeway continued. At every natural pause, a pin dropping could have been heard. "We need you to go out there and effectively test out our advancements. Preliminary results in labs and dry runs in the holodeck have been positive, but we can't know how good our scanners and defenses truly are until they're put to the test."

Janeway took a deep breath. "By now, the Borg most likely have found a new queen. With the advanced scanners, we need you to do your best to detect and locate her. As of now, our initial plan isn't to neutralize her, but we need to keep tabs on her and watch her development. If she isn't a threat, we might be able to leave her in peace."

B'Elanna knew what that meant, and she was surprised Admiral Janeway was involved with such a mission. The higher ups had to realize that if they found the Borg queen, she would not be peaceful. There would be a battle, and B'Elanna just hoped these new advancements would hold. She had faith in her equipment, but the Borg were no joke. And even though the new Commander would likely embrace it, B'Elanna was not terribly interested in dying in battle this week.

"Does anyone have any questions?" Janeway's question echoed against the silence; like most of them, B'Elanna had plenty of questions, but she vocalized none of them. The room was stiff and tense, with every officer hoping someone else could put to words what they were all thinking: why?

Admiral Paris rose first and, with a curt nod, said, "Dismissed."

The others rose, and as B'Elanna made her way by him, she whispered to the Admiral, "Make sure Miral eats her vegetables while I'm gone. We both know Tom won't do it."