The great escape
a short piece by
vanhunks
Rating: PG
Pairing: J/C
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Janeway and Chakotay.
SUMMARY: The senior officers are fed-up with their command team and want to ring in radical reforms. A rather silly story.
THE GREAT ESCAPE
"What was I supposed to do, Captain? Watch the Erorian minister maul you with his metre long tentacles for fingers? I noticed he had them right by your – "
"You had no right to punch the man, Commander," Janeway cut in forcefully. "He was only doing what Erorians do in a first greeting."
"He was all over you. Not that you seemed to mind. There was no doubt about the man's intentions."
"Which is what? Greeting the commanding officer of a visiting vessel?"
"I won't stand and watch my captain being embarrassed."
"Oh, like Commander Chakotay is always around protecting his captain? Where were you when that sick bastard of a Gekko of Gredmek II wanted to bed me right under your nose? Huh? You were busy talking up a storm with that – that – "
"Go on, say it, Captain. You're always putting her down. She's blonde, beautiful and has a lot – "
"Leave me to do my thing. Just don't barge in where you're not needed."
"Yes, you never needed me anyway, is that it? No matter that all and sundry of the Delta Quadrant get to lay…"
Tom Paris cringed. The conn felt on fire the way the command team bickered behind his back. It has been months and no let up for the crew, and especially the senior officers. He was tired, he was moody and the command team had just cranked up their mutual hostility to another level. Loud, where everyone could hear them. Didn't they ever stop? Why didn't they just get a room and have it on? What better way to relieve them of their tension and tense fighting?
It was time they stopped this. And the time was right now. Glancing to his right, he nodded to B'Elanna, an imperceptible nod Janeway and Chakotay, enemies these last months since Chakotay began seeing Seven of Nine, missed anyway, so heated their spats had become. It was impossible to be with them in the same space, much less the same room. Yesterday the mess hall was a war zone and the crew the prisoners.
Tuvok looked down on the message that flicked on his console.
Tuvok, are you ready?
He relayed the message to Harry Kim, who returned to Tom Paris, who in turn, passed it on to B'Elanna.
Let's do it
"…you…"
"…their hands on me…" Janeway retorted.
"I try to protect you for the better good of the ship."
"What? By ruining any possible chance I have of happiness? At least the Erorian wanted me to warm his bed later. You've done nothing - "
"You don't want me to touch you. You never want me to touch you. It's only duty, duty, duty to the Federation! But that's fine. I've got my own squeeze now - !"
"What the hell…?" Chakotay exclaimed before he felt disembodied, engulfed in the blue tingling glissando of the transporter beam. He had time only to sense, or see, that Kathryn too, dematerialised with him… Seconds later, their command chairs were vacant, perhaps only echoing the last words of their argument.
On the bridge a huge sigh of relief went up. Paris swivelled in his chair to face Tuvok.
"You have the bridge, Tuvok. And you, Seven of Nine, you might want to stop gaping like a fish. We have you covered for any unauthorised activity you might want to consider."
Tom gave Seven his smirkiest expression while he waited for her mouth to close. Meanwhile, Tuvok moved to the bridge and good old Ayala stepped up to replace him at Tactical.
"Sooo, Paris, what have you done with them?" asked Harry, a little perplexed.
"B'Elanna?" Tom called her name. B'Elanna Torres rose from her chair and moved to station herself next to Tom, looking at each of them in turn.
"Tuvok, Tom and I devised a strategy. Seven of Nine, close your mouth. Maybe you should close your eyes too," Torres spat at her. "In a second…"
Torres deftly punched a few keys on Tom's console. The next moment Voyager's starboard side came into view.
"I've set the action on a time delay of three minutes. What you'll see happened three minutes ago," she said calmly.
Suddenly, the rear escape hatch opened and like an arrow shot from a bow, an escape pod shot out, a trajectory that flung it five thousand metres away from Voyager.
"They are there?" Harry Kim exclaimed incredulously.
"They are there," replied Tuvok in a dry voice.
"But – but that is unconstitutional!" Seven exclaimed, finding her voice. "It is highly – "
"Whatever highly it is, you keep out of this, Seven. It has nothing to do with you," Torres hissed and closed in on the Borg who stood hands on the rail, rooted to the spot behind the command chairs, in fact, behind Chakotay's chair.
Seven's mouth closed again; she appeared bewildered.
"But he's my man…" came the words thinly, peevishly.
"He's your what?!"
"Nothing, Torres."
"Good. Just so you remember."
"Next move, Harry?"
Harry Kim fiddled at his Ops station. The next moment, the faces of Commander Chakotay and Captain Janeway filled the screen. Their palms plastered their little viewscreen, their mouths opened and closed, an indication that they were speaking, but there was no sound. Palms slapped against the screen. Behind them the tiny interior of the pod was visible. Enough room that they could stand, lie down and pee. Of that they'd have to do a lot…
Then Tuvok rose to his feet moved to stand next to Tom.
"Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay," he began, "your pod has life support, environmental controls, no holodeck, a chess set, one sleeping bunk only, fitted to keep two individuals living and breathing comfortably for eighty five days, a period equal to the amount of time you spent on New Earth… Mr Paris?"
Tom cleared his throat in such an exaggerated manner that Harry snorted.
"Audio, Harry."
The next moment Janeway and Chakotay vituperations filled the bridge.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"She's the captain. Follow her commands, dammit!"
"This is an infraction of Prime Directive seventy, code three point one…"
"You won't get away with this!"
"Yes, just let me get my hands on you!"
"Who told you to tell them that? I'm the captain!"
And so it went on for a few seconds, until audio was cut. Janeway and Chakotay slammed again the viewscreen, this time with their fists, screaming at them.
"Now listen up, you two," Paris began. "It's time you sorted out your personal issues, since it's clear to every member on Voyager that you have issues. We have given you eighty five days in which to clear the air between you and this period will be extended if it looks like you haven't dealt with what you're supposed to deal with."
Chakotay's mouth moved furiously. They stared blankly at him.
"Ayala!" Torres screamed at Tuvok's replacement at tactical.
"He says 'Go to hell, the lot of you…'"
"Commander Chakotay," Tuvok started, "when you were on this vessel, that was where we were. We cannot go where we already are."
"See?" Paris iterated. "We are tired of your soap opera antics on the ship. We have had enough. It was time we did something."
"See you in eighty five days, guys!" shouted Torres.
By this time Janeway and Chakotay had stopped their talking and just sat staring at the bridge crew. Then Chakotay said something. The next moment his head snapped back the way Janeway slapped his face.
"What was that all about?" Paris mused.
"Ayala!" shouted Torres.
"I'm afraid I cannot repeat – " Ayala began, a blush staining his cheeks.
Torres advanced on him.
"Which of your body parts shall I disable, Ayala?"
"Okay, okay! Commander told the captain he'd rather spend eighty five days with…her," he said, shrugging as he peered in Seven of Nine's direction.
"He wants me…" they heard Seven say.
Suddenly Seven disappeared from the bridge. Seconds later they heard Magnus Rollins.
"Commander Tuvok, we have Seven of Nine safely here in the brig."
"Acknowledged."
Tuvok then addressed the command team sitting like two lonely sardines in their pod.
"Your pod will remain a distance of one thousand kilometres from Voyager. Mr Paris has ensured that you will not divert from the course. We will cease communication with you. You cannot make contact with any member of the crew."
Tuvok sat down in the Janeway command chair, his hands on the armrests. He looked around him on the bridge.
"Mr Paris, set a course…for home…"
"Aye, sir!"
Moments before they closed communication with the escape pod, they saw Janeway banging again, then pointing an accusing finger at them. Her mouth moved.
"Ayala!"
"God will get you for this!" he said cheerily.
**********
end