Forever Maquis: The Present
By Erin Alpert
Well, since this is a new series, I guess I better explain this you. Me friend Chris
McNeair and I are both Maquis addicts, yeah! We felt obligated to do a Maquis
series. And, since we’re both P/Ters, you know what that means! If you have any
questions, e-mail me (Eraalpert@aol.com) or her (mack3@ix.netcom.com).
Enjoy.
Sometimes, the job being slow was a good thing. Sometimes, with Starfleet, it
was like that. But never with the Maquis. There was always something to do.
Dodging a bullet, or a photon torpedo, or phaser, for that matter, always took top
priority. Then, when that was at a minimum, the repairs needed to be done. And
when that was over with, there were more bullets to be dodged. A never ending
cycle.
Maybe B’Elanna Torres should have been glad to get lost in the Badlands, and be
given a second chance on Voyager. Where there was no never ending cycle, and
she had time to herself. But lately, it hadn’t seemed that way. There had been
repair work, after repair work, after repair work to do. Almost worse then with
the Maquis, but not quite. There hadn’t been any battles. At least, not yet.
“Lieutenant?” Captain Kathryn Janeway’s voice carried over the bridge.
“Yes, Captain?” Torres hadn’t realized it, but she was day dreaming about her
Maquis days again.
“I’m still waiting for that report on the space ahead of us,” Janeway prompted.
“Yes Captain. Right away,” and Torres looked back at her console and hurried to
finish her report. A long and tiresome act that wasn’t needed in the Maquis.
Another advantage.
The Briefing Room. Another luxury the Maquis didn’t have. But, now, B’Elanna’s
captain was standing up, pacing, and speaking, all at the same time.
“According to our scans, there is some very dangerous space out there.
Everything from sub-space anomalies, to hostile ships, we’re going to have to be
careful,” Janeway warned. And received a volley of nods, and murmured yes’s in
reply.
“Torres, have all Engineering precautions been taken?”
She hardly heard her, and was thinking about those endless days of fighting in the
Maquis. But didn’t want to make the Captain think she wasn’t paying attention, so
simply, and half-heatedly nodded, and whispered, “yeah.”
“Paris, what about the helm?” Kathryn continued.
Tom Paris. The name getting to be more and more familiar to the crew.
Sometimes, he thought that he didn’t belong. He felt unwanted, unneeded. The
only place where all good pilots were never wasted was the Maquis. But there
was no time to think about that now, he had to answer his Captain, who had given
him a second chance, and he owed his whole life to her. “Yes ma’am.”
“Tuvok, are we prepared for any confrontations with hostile species?” Janeway
was taking this area of space seriously. But why bother? It was hardly different
from any other.
“Yes Captain, all precautions have been taken,” Tuvok was the only one to
respond without hesitation.
* Brown noser, * Torres was letting her mind wander. It always seemed that the
Vulcan was sucking up. And maybe, sometimes, he was. He rarely spoke in
sentence fragments, and was always prompt. And always logical. Always so damn
logical.
“Chakotay, can you think of any thing else?” The Captain wanted to make sure
every topic was completely covered.
Chakotay had let his thoughts wander while Kathryn was speaking. Those days in
the Maquis were probably the best in his life. He had fought so hard to convince
his father to let him join Starfleet, but then he left. He needed more. The Maquis
was what he wanted. The renegade, rebellious, outlaw, fugitive, those were all
things he was back in those days. But not anymore. He was no longer and out
cast. He was no longer hunted for his beliefs. He was Starfleet once again. And
nothing could take that away. “Yes, Captain, I can. We should talk with Johnson.
Who knows what kind of effect this type of space will have on the transporters.”
“Good idea. Is that all?” Janeway was not going to let anything stop her from
getting home. Especially not this region of space. When silence answered her
she spoke once more. “Get to work people.”
“Erica, we’re gonna need your help on this,” The lowly ensign Kim pointed out.
“Yes Harry, I know that,” she retorted.
Sometimes, Ensign Erica Johnson missed those days in the Maquis. Her job was
always needed, and never taken for granted. She worked in the transporter room,
as she did now. She both repaired, and operated them. A very important job. But
now, it seemed like no one cared about her. Except, maybe three people, all but
one formally Maquis, as was she. Tom Paris, B’Elanna Torres, and Harry Kim.
Ensign Harry Kim. She was about his age, and have been told on several
occasions what a cute couple they made. Most of the time, she ignored the
comments. But recently, she noticed her feelings about him changing. Maybe
someday, they’d be the cute couple everyone talked about.
“B’Elanna,” she whipped around from were she was perched at an console in
Engineering. The voice was familiar, Tom.
“What?” she snapped back. She could hardly remember the last time she talked
to officers that way. Probably back in the Maquis. Most likely, in fact.
“Do you need any help?” he questioned, cautiously stepping up behind her.
Back in the days she had spent with the Maquis, she would need all the help she
could get. But, then again, these were not the days of the Maquis. These were the
days of Voyager. The Present. No time for reminiscing now, it was time to work.
She still needed to decide if she needed help of not. What the hell! Why not?
“Yeah, sure,” she calmly replied, as Paris moved up behind her closer.
“What are we working on?” he questioned. But that wasn’t really what he was
thinking about. The Maquis. Why had he been thinking about them so much?
Maybe, he’d have an answer. Maybe other people, Maquis people, were having
the same odd sensation.
To
Be
Continued
:+)
Copyright 1997-Erin Alpert
Viacom owns people, ‘cept for Erica, I made her up! I own story! Look out for the
next part from Chris. E-mail me at Eraalpert@aol.com okay? Good!