Star Trek Voyager: The Gift

Star Trek Voyager: The Gift 37. Social Friction

“So where’s this ship you dragged me out here to pilot?” Tom shouted to Chakotay over the bullying winds that regularly battered this part of Neliki IV. As he squinted to follow Chakotay’s brusque indicating wave through the dust being blown up in his face, he sincerely wished he’d stayed cocooned in the warm, heady atmosphere of the bar. “What’s her name?” he asked his guide hurriedly in an attempt to cover up his wince at he saw the shape his new berth was in.

“The Valjean.” Chakotay answered as he began to plough through the stormy conditions towards his ship, not even pausing in his long, deliberate strides to give Tom his answer.

Thankfully Tom was just as tall and athletic as he and kept up relatively easily, although with a less tolerant attitude to the weather. “As in “Les Miserables”?” he muttered incredulously. He caught Chakotay glancing at him with undisguised surprise, as if he couldn’t quite believe Tom could read, and his frown deepened. He’d given up on Starfleet to escape such patronising attitudes and it seemed he’d just voluntarily placed himself under the command of someone who held onto those ideas as tightly as any Admiral, just his luck. “I know a lot about France, lived there for a while, my name is Paris after all.” He explained jokingly, although his gaze was sharp. “Isn’t it a little pretentious of your group to compare yourselves to French Revolutionaries?”

If this was supposed to be provocation, Chakotay didn’t react. This man’s ludicrously loose grip on the seriousness of the situation was grating on him more with every passing second. “Maybe.” He remarked with a noncommittal shrug as they finally neared the Valjean’s door and he opened it with his code. “It was Nathaniel Harrow who suggested the name, take it up with him.”

“Maybe I will.” Tom retorted airily, grunting with effort as he tried to climb inside the ship’s narrow entrance hatch. It irritated him to see Chakotay swing inside with practised ease, hardly waiting for him before heading off down what was obviously the main route to the Bridge. “Do I have to sleep in my pilot’s chair?” he muttered as he rubbed his bruised backside where he’d banged it while trying to get into this godforsaken ship.

A dry smirk passed across Chakotay’s lips, at this moment seeing that would have given him a much needed laugh. “You’ll be assigned a bunk later; we all have to share quarters here.”

“Goody, it’ll be like boarding school all over again.” Tom replied in the same tone, a comment Chakotay didn’t bother to respond to as they entered the Bridge.

“This is Tom Paris, our new pilot.” Chakotay announced, raising his hand to stop the clamour of curious whispers that rose up around the room. “As soon as we’ve finished taking on supplies he’ll be flying us to Deep Space 11, alright?” He was relieved to see his crew’s heads nodding in approval, even Seska, but the calm that had come on him upon having everything settled and in control was short-lived as Tuvok appeared at his shoulder. “What is it Tuvok?”

“We have just received a comm. message from Kenharan at main base.” Tuvok reported without beating around the bush.

“Kenha…” Chakotay started in shock before stopping himself. He hadn’t heard from the man who’d originally recruited him in months, but considering how far the older man had climbed up the command ladder in that time his silence wasn’t really surprising. It had to be significant that he was being contacted now. “I’ll take the message in my quarters.” He answered quickly with a glance around the busy Bridge; he couldn’t risk everyone hearing it right away in case it was bad news. “Come with me.” He ordered Tuvok, who nodded sagely in agreement. Without thinking he looked around for Seven, who predictably hadn’t been distracted from her work in the least by Paris’ arrival. He considered asking for her to join them, but irritably shook the impulse off and turned back towards the doorway.