Existentialism of an Ex-Drone
folder
Star Trek › Voyager
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
5,577
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Star Trek › Voyager
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
5,577
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Star Trek: Voyager, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Celaya
Chapter 2 - Celaya
The 24th century looked favorably upon the cities of Earth, and Celaya, México, was no exception. Any shuttle-view of the cityscape revealed a hybrid of modern technology along with history preserved through neoclassical stucco architecture. In the heart of Celaya was a symbolic “water tower” that paid homage to the deep roots of the area, though the building's insides actually served as a public recreation center and museum, capable of holding up to 2000 people. This was one of the few structures within city limits that was not dedicated to galactic commerce, as the area had become a “hub” of sorts for manufacturing commercial goods that appealed to alien merchants. Culturally, as well as economically, Celaya was rich with entrepreneurs and innovators who maintained the friendly – yet elitist – atmosphere of the city.
John Torres had managed to find his niche in Celaya, though it had taken him 11 years to do so. Establishing a business within the area guaranteed customers more loyal than any known in the quadrant, but they expected proof of relentless dedication before they allowed contracts. He had nearly been driven to bankruptcy 3 times, but every time it seemed that the straw would break the camel's proverbial back, John managed to pull through by the proverbial skin of his teeth.
By 2377, it was clear that the Torres name would not be disappearing off any merchant's list, especially when it came to civilian warp engines and perpetual plasma generators. He wasn't in line for the SocioEco Commerce Designer of the Year Award, but his humble lifestyle was easily supported by his ideas, along with the 9 project members who supplemented his team at the time. In 2378, his daughter B'Elanna was hired on as a part-time engineer, along with a set of Bajoran fraternal twins who had been trained as chemists at the New Academy in Athens: Cas Ti and Cas Geni.
John lived in a unit-based housing system along the northern border of the city, in what was known as a SIRc area, standing for Sustainable Immigration Resource center. He had owned a private residence previously, but when B'Elanna returned to the Alpha quadrant, John had moved into the SIRc because he hoped the social resources would give her incentive to visit him. All SIRc areas operated with a familial principle – neighbors were expected to offer their talents and services to one another as trade communally. His plan had been a success, although it was hard to say if it directly had caused for his daughter's decision to move to Celaya or not, since she never gave him a real reason. Miral and B'Elanna simply arranged to take up a unit two floors below John's, and no explanation was offered, or requested. The only thing he had asked her was if her husband would like help finding some work in the city, to which she had replied: “he might, if he weren't going to be flying from beta 3 to the Cardassian border for the next 18 months”.
Secretly, John was indifferent to the fact that Paris had been indisposed by Starfleet. He knew that he should have sympathy for his daughter being left to raise a child alone, but he couldn't help feeling as though he had more opportunities to get to know the woman she had become, not to mention spend more time with his granddaughter. He never let on, but simply made himself available for anything they needed no matter what else might be happening at the time. After B'Elanna had been living in the SIRc for several months, she and her father developed a form of trust that was basic at best, but necessary for them to establish a professional and civil relationship. He learned immediately that he could trust her judgment, even though a part of him still thought of her as the 6 year old girl he had left behind.
The night after returning from Chakotay's birthday party, B'Elanna invited John to have dinner with her at one of the SIRc's exchange restaurants. They spoke about the party, how many former crewmembers were going back to the Maquis, and the transport to Arizona. Eventually the conversation turned to Seven of Nine.
“...she's very good with Miral, it's easy to tell right away when she likes someone because she doesn't cry.”
“You were like that, too, when you were a baby. You were always picking and choosing from everyone around you and deciding if they met your strict criteria.”
B'Elanna smiled slightly, but pressed on with her train of thought. “I called Janeway this morning to talk to her about it. She is concerned, not just about Seven, but most of the crew. She told me she was working with Deanna Troi to establish a counseling program that will specifically focus around these types of problems.” She took a fast bite of tamale, swallowed without chewing, then continued. “It's all a lot of psychology bullshit I don't really buy into, and I think Troi is getting out-of-touch, but at least it's something. More than most of them have.”
“Do you think you will take advantage of it?”
She scoffed indignantly. “I'm fine, I don't need any counseling. Except maybe to figure out a way to break Admiral Paris's nose without anyone noticing it.”
John raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So it was him who had Tom sent on that mission?”
“Definitely.” B'Elanna adamantly nodded. “I dropped some hints around Barclay at the party and he confirmed it. The man is easier to get information from than a Jak'h talon. Anyway, there's nothing I can do about that now, but I wanted to talk to you about Seven. She is hoping that Starfleet will clear her, but Janeway said there isn't a chance of it. She couldn't even go through the Academy at this point, even though with her knowledge and experience, they should be letting her teach there.”
“But you talked to her about Celaya? We don't have room for a lot of people right now, but if we get another big contract, I can see hiring on 3 more, and she sounds right for it from all you've said.”
“I think she's interested. It's just a matter of getting her to realize that Starfleet isn't going to place her anywhere, but she doesn't really want to accept it yet. Once she does, and no longer is hoping for things to change, I think she will be much more open to the possibility of working somewhere and leading a regular life.”
“Not a life on a starship, you mean?” John asked with a crooked grin. His daughter had told him that winking made him look like a dirty old man, so he resisted the urge to do so, even though he thought it would go along well with the joke.
“Well it's her whole reality. She had never spent more than a few weeks planetside until now.”
He reached out and placed his hand over B'Elanna's and looked her in the eye. “You are kind to be concerned with the well-being of your friends.”
The half-Klingon shifted uncomfortably, but didn't pull her hand away. “Thanks.” She muttered.
John smiled widely, then they both resumed eating their meals in silence for several minutes. B'Elanna ate quicker than before, feeling suddenly eager to get home and contact Seven to let her know the position was a certain offer.
*********
“Ensign, report.”
“There are two lifesigns, Captain. They appear faint.” The operations officer entered a few more commands into his station rapidly. “It appears they have weapons, but no shields.”
Captain Bentley leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his thick mop of red, Irish hair. “Paris, can you get us close enough to beam them out while staying out of weapons range?”
“I'll try, sir.” Tom punched in several coordinates to the Gridiron's helm, leading them in a broad circle around the damaged ship.
“Ensign,” Bentley directed to his Klingon communications officer, “make sure they go straight to the brig, I want them secured, but get a medical team down there waiting.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Paris swung the ship around. “We're in range.” He announced.
The disabled ship was not firing, but Tom didn't give them the chance, either. Once the announcement came through that the Cardassians were aboard, Bentley jumped out of his Captain's chair and headed to the turbolift.
“Commander, have the bridge.” Bentley tossed over his shoulder, before the doors closed behind him.
The 24th century looked favorably upon the cities of Earth, and Celaya, México, was no exception. Any shuttle-view of the cityscape revealed a hybrid of modern technology along with history preserved through neoclassical stucco architecture. In the heart of Celaya was a symbolic “water tower” that paid homage to the deep roots of the area, though the building's insides actually served as a public recreation center and museum, capable of holding up to 2000 people. This was one of the few structures within city limits that was not dedicated to galactic commerce, as the area had become a “hub” of sorts for manufacturing commercial goods that appealed to alien merchants. Culturally, as well as economically, Celaya was rich with entrepreneurs and innovators who maintained the friendly – yet elitist – atmosphere of the city.
John Torres had managed to find his niche in Celaya, though it had taken him 11 years to do so. Establishing a business within the area guaranteed customers more loyal than any known in the quadrant, but they expected proof of relentless dedication before they allowed contracts. He had nearly been driven to bankruptcy 3 times, but every time it seemed that the straw would break the camel's proverbial back, John managed to pull through by the proverbial skin of his teeth.
By 2377, it was clear that the Torres name would not be disappearing off any merchant's list, especially when it came to civilian warp engines and perpetual plasma generators. He wasn't in line for the SocioEco Commerce Designer of the Year Award, but his humble lifestyle was easily supported by his ideas, along with the 9 project members who supplemented his team at the time. In 2378, his daughter B'Elanna was hired on as a part-time engineer, along with a set of Bajoran fraternal twins who had been trained as chemists at the New Academy in Athens: Cas Ti and Cas Geni.
John lived in a unit-based housing system along the northern border of the city, in what was known as a SIRc area, standing for Sustainable Immigration Resource center. He had owned a private residence previously, but when B'Elanna returned to the Alpha quadrant, John had moved into the SIRc because he hoped the social resources would give her incentive to visit him. All SIRc areas operated with a familial principle – neighbors were expected to offer their talents and services to one another as trade communally. His plan had been a success, although it was hard to say if it directly had caused for his daughter's decision to move to Celaya or not, since she never gave him a real reason. Miral and B'Elanna simply arranged to take up a unit two floors below John's, and no explanation was offered, or requested. The only thing he had asked her was if her husband would like help finding some work in the city, to which she had replied: “he might, if he weren't going to be flying from beta 3 to the Cardassian border for the next 18 months”.
Secretly, John was indifferent to the fact that Paris had been indisposed by Starfleet. He knew that he should have sympathy for his daughter being left to raise a child alone, but he couldn't help feeling as though he had more opportunities to get to know the woman she had become, not to mention spend more time with his granddaughter. He never let on, but simply made himself available for anything they needed no matter what else might be happening at the time. After B'Elanna had been living in the SIRc for several months, she and her father developed a form of trust that was basic at best, but necessary for them to establish a professional and civil relationship. He learned immediately that he could trust her judgment, even though a part of him still thought of her as the 6 year old girl he had left behind.
The night after returning from Chakotay's birthday party, B'Elanna invited John to have dinner with her at one of the SIRc's exchange restaurants. They spoke about the party, how many former crewmembers were going back to the Maquis, and the transport to Arizona. Eventually the conversation turned to Seven of Nine.
“...she's very good with Miral, it's easy to tell right away when she likes someone because she doesn't cry.”
“You were like that, too, when you were a baby. You were always picking and choosing from everyone around you and deciding if they met your strict criteria.”
B'Elanna smiled slightly, but pressed on with her train of thought. “I called Janeway this morning to talk to her about it. She is concerned, not just about Seven, but most of the crew. She told me she was working with Deanna Troi to establish a counseling program that will specifically focus around these types of problems.” She took a fast bite of tamale, swallowed without chewing, then continued. “It's all a lot of psychology bullshit I don't really buy into, and I think Troi is getting out-of-touch, but at least it's something. More than most of them have.”
“Do you think you will take advantage of it?”
She scoffed indignantly. “I'm fine, I don't need any counseling. Except maybe to figure out a way to break Admiral Paris's nose without anyone noticing it.”
John raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So it was him who had Tom sent on that mission?”
“Definitely.” B'Elanna adamantly nodded. “I dropped some hints around Barclay at the party and he confirmed it. The man is easier to get information from than a Jak'h talon. Anyway, there's nothing I can do about that now, but I wanted to talk to you about Seven. She is hoping that Starfleet will clear her, but Janeway said there isn't a chance of it. She couldn't even go through the Academy at this point, even though with her knowledge and experience, they should be letting her teach there.”
“But you talked to her about Celaya? We don't have room for a lot of people right now, but if we get another big contract, I can see hiring on 3 more, and she sounds right for it from all you've said.”
“I think she's interested. It's just a matter of getting her to realize that Starfleet isn't going to place her anywhere, but she doesn't really want to accept it yet. Once she does, and no longer is hoping for things to change, I think she will be much more open to the possibility of working somewhere and leading a regular life.”
“Not a life on a starship, you mean?” John asked with a crooked grin. His daughter had told him that winking made him look like a dirty old man, so he resisted the urge to do so, even though he thought it would go along well with the joke.
“Well it's her whole reality. She had never spent more than a few weeks planetside until now.”
He reached out and placed his hand over B'Elanna's and looked her in the eye. “You are kind to be concerned with the well-being of your friends.”
The half-Klingon shifted uncomfortably, but didn't pull her hand away. “Thanks.” She muttered.
John smiled widely, then they both resumed eating their meals in silence for several minutes. B'Elanna ate quicker than before, feeling suddenly eager to get home and contact Seven to let her know the position was a certain offer.
*********
“Ensign, report.”
“There are two lifesigns, Captain. They appear faint.” The operations officer entered a few more commands into his station rapidly. “It appears they have weapons, but no shields.”
Captain Bentley leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his thick mop of red, Irish hair. “Paris, can you get us close enough to beam them out while staying out of weapons range?”
“I'll try, sir.” Tom punched in several coordinates to the Gridiron's helm, leading them in a broad circle around the damaged ship.
“Ensign,” Bentley directed to his Klingon communications officer, “make sure they go straight to the brig, I want them secured, but get a medical team down there waiting.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Paris swung the ship around. “We're in range.” He announced.
The disabled ship was not firing, but Tom didn't give them the chance, either. Once the announcement came through that the Cardassians were aboard, Bentley jumped out of his Captain's chair and headed to the turbolift.
“Commander, have the bridge.” Bentley tossed over his shoulder, before the doors closed behind him.