Disclaimer: All things Voyager belong to CBS and Paramount and who knows who else. I’m borrowing a few characters and a turbolift for a few brief moments. No infringement intended.
Summary: Year of Hell. A glance at Voyager’s command team during the gradual disintegration of the ship. Yes, at last, a mizvoy turbolift story. B’Elanna Torres’ point of view.
Oasis
by mizvoy
I’ve done all I can to restore shield control from deck eleven, so I leave Engineering for the grueling climb to the bridge. I should be able to finish the job from there.
The turbolifts are offline for the ninth day in a row, which means that I’m going to spend the next hour or so winding my way through the Jeffries tubes like a rat in a maze. Every tube and every junction is littered with debris, but there hasn’t been enough time between attacks to worry about neatness. We’re lucky to keep life support in working order most of the time.
I wonder how much longer Voyager can take this ceaseless battering.
As the chief engineer, I know the end is inevitable—no equipment can be repaired time and again without eventually giving out—but I also know that Captain Kathryn Janeway will not quit until every shred of hope is gone.
I climb up two ladders, and then I have to crawl down a horizontal tube to avoid damage so severe even our force fields can’t maintain an atmosphere. I feel the frigid cold of space through the deck plating beneath my hands and shiver at the thought of a single layer of metal between me and oblivion. Well, metal augmented by the immeasurable determination of our captain.
My own tenacity and single-mindedness pale when compared to Janeway’s. In the weeks since the Krenim started these attacks, she’s been ubiquitous. She always answers my comms at once, as if she’s awake and sitting in her office or on the bridge every minute of every day, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve crawled around the corner of a tube to find her reassembling some damaged conduit or crawling toward the same problem area I am. I worry about her. I wonder if she’s slept in the last forty-eight hours. I wonder how far she can bend before she breaks.
When I finally get to deck six, I have to resort to one of the turbolift shafts and squeeze past the lift car that was frozen there in the explosion that took out all of deck five. Since then, this particular lift has served as a sort of an oasis for the members of the crew who routinely make the arduous journey between the bridge and engineering. The oasis started when Joe Carey stashed some water in there, and then other people added a few rations, a sims beacon, and finally a collection pillows and blanket for a quick nap, when needed. Since this is my second trip of the day, I consider stopping for a drink and a few minutes of rest.
I’m squeezing through the narrow gap between the car and shaft when I hear voices coming from inside the turbolift. I’m a bit irritated that it’s occupied, as I was hoping for a few quiet moments of privacy without facing the usual questions about how much longer it will be before the lifts are functioning again.
Before I make my presence known, I decide to see who has decided to take advantage of the oasis. I haven’t heard from the repair team on deck four in an hour or so, and if it’s those two, I’ll shoo them on their way in a heartbeat. We need to have that shield emitter working before the next attack begins or we’ll be in big trouble.
The voices belong to a man and a woman, and the man’s voice sounds very familiar. Thinking that he might be Tom, I maneuver to put my ear close to the maintenance panel—the best location for eavesdropping—and stay as quiet as possible. If it is Tom, I’ll probably take a break and join them, catch my breath, and find out how things are progessing on the bridge.
It isn’t Tom, it’s Chakotay, and the woman he’s talking to is none other than the captain. I haven’t seen them together much in recent days and have wondered if they were still on speaking terms. Janeway has really been jumpy lately, her temper on a hair trigger, and we’ve all been avoiding her. She’s seething mad at the Krenim and is taking it out on whoever crosses her path.
I know I shouldn’t pry, but my curiosity gets the best of me.
Janeway says, “I forgot to thank you for the birthday gift. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings when I ordered you to recycle it.”
“I’ll get over it,” Chakotay responds, trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably.
“Well, it’s the thought that counts, and I’m touched that you remembered my birthday at all. But a watch isn’t something I need, and recycling it is the fair thing to do.”
I’m stunned—first because the idea of celebrating a birthday seems so frivolous when the ship is falling to pieces, and second, because Chakotay is famous for forgetting everyone’s birthday, even when we drop dozens of very obvious reminders. Add to that the realization that Janeway had rejected his gift, and I felt like grabbing her and giving her a shake for being so cold and heartless.
Chakotay mutters something under his breath, and Janeway asks him to speak up.
“I said that I wish you’d let me spoil you now and then. You do so much for everyone else, it’s only right that you should get some benefits in return.”
“Not true,” she answers him, her voice angry. “I don’t do any more than anyone else, and I sure as hell don’t deserve to be ‘spoiled’ for doing my job.”
“Yes, you do. Not only do you have the toughest job on the ship, you never eat your full share of rations, and you push yourself beyond any one else’s endurance. When was the last time you had a hot meal? Or a few hours of sleep?”
“I think it’s time to go.” She’s in full denial, and I can hear the sounds of her struggle to get up from the floor. Finally, there is silence, and then she says, “Well? Are you going to help me stand up or are you just going to sit there?”
I shift slightly so I can peer into the lift through a crack in the panel. Sure enough, the captain is injured. I should have suspected as much when I found her “resting” in the turbolift. She’s on her knees, one hand on the railing and the other extended toward Chakotay, asking for a boost. He doesn’t move a muscle.
“Kathryn, if you start walking on the ankle too soon, you’ll end up in sickbay twice as long waiting for the sprain to heal.”
There is a long silence and then something like a growl.
“Damn. I hate it when you’re right.” She sits back down with a thump. “I really don’t want to tangle with the doctor about an injury this minor.”
“Nor do you want to tell him how you sprained it in the first place.”
“That, too.” She chuckles. “It might lower the crew’s confidence to find out how much of a klutz the captain can be.”
Chakotay laughs and pulls her leg onto his lap, checking the first aid device that is wrapped around it. “The aprain needs about thirty or forty-five minutes to finish healing. You might as well use the time to get a little rest.”
“All right.” She starts getting organized. “We can pile some pillows against the wall and get under a blanket. It’s cold in here.”
I watch, fascinated, as Chakotay arranges the pillows and uses one to prop the captain’s injured foot up at just the right angle to facilitate healing. Their backs are against the wall on my right, so I can see her legs extending past my little peep hole. Chakotay lies down on the other side of her, and she turns toward him, putting her head on his shoulder as he spreads the blanket over them. I realize, with a start, that they’re cuddling up just like Tom and I do when we take a nap together.
Janeway sighs. “You’re nice and warm.”
“You’re warm, too.”
They don’t adjust the light, which is no surprise, since their only choices with the sims beacon are dim and pitch black. It’s quiet and, thinking the discussion has ended, I prepare to resume my climb to the bridge.
Then I hear a sound that resembles a sob.
“Kathryn?” Chakotay must have heard it, too. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, Chakotay, I’m so sorry about the present. I can’t believe I ordered you to recycle the gift you had for me.” She sobs again, her last words muffled as she buries her face in his shoulder. “I hate what the Krenim are doing to us.”
“It’s okay,” he soothes her. I can see his big hand rubbing her back. “I understand why you did it.”
“When this is all over, you can replicate the watch again. I’ll even donate the rations.”
“We’ll see.”
She raises up and looks him in the eye. “You will give it to me one of these days, won’t you?”
“The watch?” His laugh is infectious. “When you ask me to ‘give it to you,’ Kathryn, I’m afraid my imagination goes wild.”
Now she starts laughing with him, a real belly laugh, and I realize, with a pang, how long it’s been since I’ve heard that sound and how much I’ve missed hearing it.
“Have I told you lately how much I need you, Chakotay?” she says when she catches her breath.
“Mm-hmmm.”
“No, really,” she persists, settling into his embrace again. “If anything happened to you, I’d–. Well, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“I know exactly what you’d do. You’d keep going, and no one would ever suspect how much you miss me.” His voice is sad, and I feel my heart lurch in sympathy for both of them.
“You’re probably right.” She yawns and her voice sounds full of sleep. “I’m not one to wear my heart on my sleeve, but I want you to know that I’d never stop missing you. Never.”
“Kathryn,” he whispers, and I hear a rustling sound as they snuggle closer.
I think about staying to find out what happens next, but my embarrassment at invading their privacy gets the best of me. I’m as quiet as a mouse as I climb past the car and work my way up to deck four. I decide to stop at the messhall/sickbay for a drink of water, hoping that maybe Tom will be there. For some reason, I need a hug.
Four hours later, the captain appears on the bridge. She isn’t limping and, for once, looks like she might have gotten a few hours of sleep. I almost ask her if she enjoyed her stay in the oasis, but she is focused on the ship and probably angry with herself for falling asleep.
I don’t want her to know I saw her and Chakotay together, yet I wish I could tell her that no one on the ship would begrudge her a four-hour rest in the oasis, nor would they mind that she slept in Chakotay’s arms.
That thought makes me wonder where Chakotay might be, but then I push the thought aside. The true nature of their personal relationship doesn’t concern me, but I feel better knowing that they have each other to rely upon. I hope she never has to do without him. I think she’d be just as devastated as I would be if I lost Tom.
But those thoughts are quickly forgotten when the damned Krenim attack again and Voyager is caught in another fight for her life. I’m too busy keeping the ship working to think about anything else.