Lucy Davenport's latest adventure takes her on a voyage across the Atlantic!
Captain Janeway is looking forward to this one. What perils will Lucy face? Will there be a mystery to solve? Will she have a forbidden romance with the handsome but uptight Captain Laurence?
(Ideally yes)
Unfortunately before she's had a chance to do anything more than meet him she's interrupted.
"Captain, we're getting some strange energy readings. You'd better come up here."
Q appears in a flash of light.
"Not so fast, Captain! You can't just stuff this man into an isolinear chip and leave him there! He deserves to live!"
Q snaps his fingers and vanishes. The program ends, leaving Janeway standing in the deactivated holodeck... with William Laurence.
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Davenport. Now if you'll be so kind as to step to this side, the bosun will lift you aboard with his--"
"--Excuse me, miss. I'm afraid I-- I--"
One moment ago he was standing on a dock, his ship Reliant resting before him, about to go aboard with the governess and her charges who were taking passage with him this voyage. It has been a clear, sunny day with the wind in the west. He had felt the salt breeze on his face.
And now... there is no sign of ship, dock, crew, or indeed the sun or breeze. Only the strangest room he's ever seen, and the one unchanged figure: the governess, now minus the children she was accompanying.
"--I fear I may be seeing things. Miss Davenport, would you be so kind as to tell me what you see directly at this moment?"
Not the best impression for a captain to be giving at the beginning of a voyage, to seem an invalid having some sort of fainting spell, but what else can he do? He has no idea what is going on, and she is the one thing he can grasp at to find out.
And then he averts his eyes, because she appears to be wearing an extraordinarily revealing costume that leaves less to the imagination than a bathing suit. But he is certainly not going to accuse a gentlewoman of such absurd immodesty when the far more likely explanation is that he is somehow dreaming or having the vapours. He keeps his gaze firmly fixed to the wall behind her, however.
"A moment... Sir."
"Captain to Chakotaky. I've just had a visit from Q. Any sign of him?"
"Q? No captain, we haven't seen him. And the energy readings are gone now. What did he do?"
"He appears to have... extracted... a character from my holodeck program."
She turns to Laurence, momentarily at a loss for words.
Laurence is still deeply confused, but he heard her speak to a man out of sight and caught a few words.
"I beg your pardon. Are we on a vessel at this moment?" The room is small and dark; they must be near the belly of the ship. "Would you call Captain Tochakotay here, so that I may present myself to him? Is he an officer in His Majesty's Navy?"
By their strange accents, Laurence suspects he may be on a ship with rebels from the colonies. Technically England is not at war with them anymore; he hopes these will not treat him the worse for being an Englishman.
(He's never heard of such shocking salaciousness in modes of dress in the colonies, but it's the best guess he can come up with for the moment.)
There are too many misconceptions there to deal with at once. She tries to figure out how to start to explain.
"You're aboard the USS Voyager..."
How does she address him? If the Reliant was real, of course it would be "Captain Laurence", but it isn't. On the other hand, it's just as real as anything else about him. If he wanted to talk about his parents, it wouldn't seem reasonable to quibble about it. And it would also be offensive in the extreme, she suspects, to deny the legitimacy of his rank.
"... Captain Laurence. Please come with me: I'm afraid we have quite a bit to discuss"
She sets off towards sick bay.
Somewhat to his surprise, Laurence finds himself following her. Her tones of command are unmistakeable, despite her being a woman. Her manner and dress would be shockingly illegal in England, but it seems that he now finds himself in a strange country indeed. When in Rome.
He's never heard of that ship, but the term "USS" is vaguely familiar. "United States Ship? Is she a frigate from the colonies, then?"
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't beat around the bush."
"By your calendar, it is the year 2371. Voyager hails from the United Federation of Planets, a union of over 150 planets, including Earth."
What.
"One hundred and fifty... planets? Then... where are we?
"And, if I may be so bold, er--" he is no longer sure how to address her-- "what is your own role on this vessel?"
"Easy question first. Captain Kathryn Janeway, at your service. I am in command of Voyager. The man you heard be talking to, Commander Chakotay, is my first officer."
"As to where we are, the short answer is 'space, a very, very long way from home'".
They reach the holodeck doors, which open with a quiet hiss, revealing a carpeted metal coridor, with white lights shining down from the ceiling. There are no windows in sight.
Laurence takes in the magically moving doors, the strange decor -- so perfectly clean, unlike a sailing ship, yet strangely bare -- the unnaturally bright lighting, and her words, all with an increasing sense of unreality. It's becoming clear that a female captain is the least of the strangeness here. For all he knows, they don't birth children here, they spring fully formed from their fathers' foreheads.
"A very, very long way from home," he repeats, more to himself than to her. He's familiar with the notion of the space between planets, of course, but the idea that men could go there is fantastical.
And then the next realization hits him. The year 2371. Five hundred years after he -- and most likely everyone he knows -- should be dead and gone. How is this possible? What would a Captain William Laurence even be in such a world-- adrift without family, without friends--
And more to the point, what would become of the world without him? His ship, his crew? The war? He was there just a moment ago-- And in that moment, he realizes what he must do. He almost asks her what became of Napoleon-- but no. It would be better not to know, for he intends to do his duty to England regardless.
"How can I return to my ship? To my own time?" he asks her urgently.
What are the options here...
Option 1: Maybe Q could be persuaded to put Laurence back into the holodeck program. It seems unlikely that Laurence would want that if asked.
Option 2: Maybe Laurence could be transported to the real 1804? There are many recorded instances of time travel in Starfleet records. Just three years ago, that android on the Enterprise was transported to the late 19th century, which isn't even very far off. But of course she's not going to pursue that course. The temporal prime directive prohibits tampering with the past.
Option 3: Could Q be persuaded to send Laurence to some sort of alternate dimension? But Q is gone, and unlikely to want to undo his meddling in any case. Why did Q do this?
"I'm sorry, Captain Laurence. I'll consult with my crew, but I see no way to return you to your own time."
The crushing weight of it hits him then. Everything and everyone he ever knew, gone. He grasps onto that "I'll consult with my crew" with the hope of a dying man.
But, Janeway did not sound hopeful. It had the sound more of a sop to frustrated hopes than a true expectation that anything could be done.
He takes a deep breath and asks a question that should perhaps have been before the last several. "Where are we going?"
"Sickbay. The manner in which you arrived here is novel to us, and I want to make sure you're not suffering any medical problems from it. It's just a precaution."
They arrive at a turbolift, which obligingly hisses open.
So he's going to some sort of hospital. Fine. "And after that? Am I a free man, or a prisoner here?"
Laurence gives her a quizzical look-- why are they entering this tiny room, which does not appear to be a hospital?-- but follows her anyway.
"Deck 5"
The turbolift doors close and a whirring noise briefly fills the air before the doors open again on a different hallway.
"You're not a prisoner. I would say you're therefore a free man, but as I said we're a long way from home. I'll put you off the ship, if that's what you want, but frankly I doubt there will be anywhere you'd like to go. If you rescued someone from a shipwreck in the middle of the ocean, and treated them with every courtesy you could, would you call them a free man?"
This, he regretfully understands. "I see. I am acquainted with such situations from my own time at sea." And in such situations, men were pressed into service whether they liked it or no, out of sheer necessity. "When do you next expect to make port? And where?"
"We'll likely make port within a month or two, to stock up on necessary supplies. But as to where, the short answer is we don't know."
She's going to be forced to explain aliens at some point, but she's hoping to defer that shock for as long as possible.
"We're not lost, exactly. We know where we are and where we're going. If you'll permit a metaphor, we know our longitude and latitude exactly, so we know which way and how far to go. But we don't know anything about the lands we'll pass along the way. And we expect the journey to take 70 years."
That statement is incomprehensible. He gropes at understanding. "Seventy years? But how... Surely some of the crew must disembark before then. Do none of them have wives on shore? Er, families?" he amends, glancing at Janeway.
Being at sea is one thing, but traversing uncharted territory like Captain Cook is another entirely. Laurence is beginning to be concerned for his fate even if these people have the friendliest of intentions.
"You're quite right. In the normal course of events a starship would spend less than a year between visits to a federation world."
"Unfortunately, two weeks ago Voyager was pulled from Federation space by a powerful entity called the Caretaker, which then died, stranding us here. To my knowledge, no Federation vessel has ever been this far from home."
"Captain," he says, finally using her title because it seems important now. "You were stranded two weeks ago? On a journey you expect to take seventy years? And you have no idea if or when you will next make port, or even find supplies?"
He pauses, realizing that he expects no answer to any of these questions. Then he says, "I hope an additional man will not strain your stores. I have been on short commons before, at need, and will not complain of rationing. Nor of labor, if there is any-- I am certain there must be, in such a precarious situation as you find yourselves."
"Rationing? Oh no, Captain, there won't be any need for that. Voyager can make food and water out of just about anything. The supplies we'll need are to maintain the ship itself."
Laurence grimaces faintly at her amused use of his title. She's right: clearly he's no captain here, qualified though he might be to command a ship in his own time and place. "Mr. Laurence will do for the moment, Captain," he says quietly. "I have no desire to pretend to a rank I no longer possess."
Janeway feels a keen stab of empathy for Laurence. The hell of it is that he's right: he's not a captain here. Of course, he has no ship, but far worse: even if he had one, he wouldn't be qualified to captain it.
"Mr. Laurence, then."
"As for labor... Voyager is rather different from the Reliant. If you want to help, I certainly won't turn you away. Our situation is, as you say, precarious. But we'll need to think carefully on how best you could contribute."
They reach sickbay, and the doors whoosh open, revealing a room full of equipment and beds. A man in a blue uniform with horrific burns across his face is asleep in one of them, but it's otherwise unoccupied.
Janeway addresses the room, ignoring them sleeping man:
"Activate Emergency Medical Hologram."
A man shimmers into existence, looking faintly annoyed.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."
Laurence nearly jumps out of his skin at the man's appearance, then glances at Janeway, who seems unfazed. He quickly tries to calm himself. A man appearing from nowhere is not, strictly speaking, the most alarming thing that's happened to him today.
"This man was created from a holodeck program by Q. I'd like you to make sure he's in good health."
And biological at all for that matter, but she doesn't say that part aloud. No need to bring up the possibility if it's not going to be a problem.
"Apparently so."
If Janeway picks up on the doctor's personal interest here, she gives no sign of it.
"Fascinating."
He grabs a medical tricorder from a nearby wall and waves it up and down in front of Laurence.
"Indeed, there's no sign he's anything but human. If you hadn't told me I'd never have suspected anything was odd... Except..."
"He has the common cold, actually. We'll need to vaccinate the entire crew before we next interact with anybody outside the ship. If we were on a planet this would be a disaster."
He walks off into a back room, then returns a minute later holding a hypospray.
"If I may?"
"Vaccinate everyone? Over a cold?" He doesn't want to second-guess the doctor here, who is, if the march of progress has continued unabated, must have much greater knowledge than medical men in his own time... But then, ship's surgeons are often not the best the profession has to offer. "I would hope not to put the whole crew to such a great inconvenience-- how many are in it, by the by?"
Laurence has never received the vaccination for smallpox himself, but he's heard it can be very uncomfortable.
He has no idea what the device is that the doctor is holding, but nods stiffly, bracing himself for... whatever is about to happen. A vaccine, presumably.
"141 crew" says Janeway absentmindedly, strategizing on how to explain the lengths the federation would go to to keep the common cold eradicated.
"No, sorry. 163, now. We lost 18 when the caretaker abducted us, and added 38 maquis and 2 locals in the aftermath."
"As to the effort..."
"Computer."
Beep boop
"Estimate the cost of eradicating the common cold, expressed in 1804 British Pounds."
"The cost of the Federation eradication of the common cold was approximately 4 billion 1804 British Pounds."
"I consider vaccinating the entire crew to be an extremely small price to pay to keep the common cold eradicated."
Four billion pounds... at just one per cent, that would be forty million per annum. It's more money than Laurence has even imagined before. Possibly more money than exists -- existed, he winces -- in the British empire? He's never had a head for mathematics.
"Was that the vaccination?" If so, he is no longer concerned about the effort to do it to the entire crew. (Perhaps slightly embarrassed to put them to the trouble.)
Quite apart from that, Janeway also named some numbers that were more firmly within his grasp.
163 crew. Smaller than that of the Reliant. Yet, the hallways they walked through were vast. This vessel must take a fraction of the effort to man.
And one other thing caught his attention. "Maquis, and locals? You have pressed men on board?"
"No, we don't..."
Hmmm, the Maquis are a lot less "not-impressed" then Janeway was going to reflexively assure Laurence.
She tries again.
"The locals joined voluntarily. The Maquis situation is complicated. Our original mission was to hunt them down: they're rebels. But after our and their abduction, and the destruction of their ship in the aftermath, they joined our crew."
"They weren't forced. But their alternative was to be stranded, and there's definitely some bad blood on both sides."
(He nods in thanks to the doctor.)
Laurence studies her for a moment. "I have pressed men myself, at need," he remarks. "For my own part, I see no dishonor in it, if the need is indeed great. If I were inclined to think these men ill treated, it would be this Caretaker entity at whose feet I would lay blame, not a captain pressing an enemy crew to help his-- er-- her own survive."
He's unsure why he is offering this reassurance, save that for a moment, in her lack of certainty, she reminded him of Tom Riley, or another of his young officers.
There's a lot to unpack here.
On the one hand, his approval is surprisingly heartening. On the first day of her first captaincy she got her ship utterly stranded: it's nice to hear "you're doing the best that can be done with the hand you were given" from another captain.
On the other hand, hearing that you did indeed impress the Maquis, but that that's perfectly acceptable, is not reassuring. The Federation does not look to the British empire for moral guidance.
This sort of hammers home how nice it would be to get coffee with, say, Admiral Paris, and talk about what they've been going through.
She gives him a tight smile. "Well, I appreciate your support, Mr Laurence."
"Unfortunately, my watch is coming up shortly. I'll be needed on the bridge."
She taps her com badge.
"Ensign Kim, please report to sickbay."
Laurence does his own poorly-suppressed double take at the hulking Chinaman who's entered the room.
Kim does not appear to notice the double take, but Janeway does. Under her breath, she mutters to Laurence "150 worlds, in particular including all of Earth."
"Ensign Kim, this is Mr Laurence. He has been taken from his own time of 1804 by the extremely powerful and annoying entity known as Q. You can look Q up on your own time if you're not familiar."
"Mr Laurence will be our guest for the foreseeable future. Find him some quarters and help familiarize him with what he needs to know in the 24th century."
Apparently this is just what Starfleet is like. If the captain is acting like this is normal then he'll treat it as normal.
"Yes captain."
He turns and offers Laurence a smile and a hand to shake.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr Laurence."
Laurence replies automatically "The pleasure is all mine," shaking Kim's hand firmly. Apparently some things stay the same even across 150 planets and 500 years.
"We'll talk soon, Mr Laurence. Good day."
She has a fairly comfortable 19th century dialect developed from all her holodeck time, but it feels very strange to be using it in sickbay.
She pauses right before leaving the room.
"Computer, assign a vacant officers quarters to this man under the name William Laurence."
"Please, come with me."
He leads them back into the hallway, and starts off towards the turbolift.
"Wait, Ensign!"
He sighs.
"Doesn't anybody know how to deactivate a hologram around here?"
Harry Kim has already left the room and does not hear any of that.
"So wow, you're from the 18th century? That's amazing! How did you wind up here?"
Harry has decided that he's pretty happy with this situation. His current theory is that something crazy is going to happen about once per week and this one seems very unlikely to kill anybody.
Laurence is a little confused by Ensign Kim's word choices, but he can make it out more or less. He's vaguely embarrassed that he doesn't know the answer.
"The details of the matter are unclear to me, though Captain Janeway mentioned it involved an entity named Q. As for my own perspective, I was on the dock, on the point of assisting passengers in boarding my ship Reliant, when I suddenly appeared in a black room with orange lines, along with one of said passengers, who told me her name was Captain Janeway of the USS Voyager. I am at a loss for explanations, but since it seems the alteration in my circumstances is irreversible, my course must be to adapt as well as I can."
He's reminded once more that in all likelihood, he'll never again see his parents, his friends, Edith Galman-- he pushes such thoughts out of his mind. It's more important now to learn what he can from Ensign Kim.
"Huh. So the black and orange room is the holodeck. The holodeck can ... uhhhh ... create illusions of basically anything. We use it for training and entertainment."
Harry figures out the implication immediately but decides to talk through it for Laurence's benefit.
"What you're describing sounds like what happens when the holodeck turns off. Everything but the actual people vanish instantly."
"But from your perspective, you never entered the holodeck, and instead remember an entire life in the 18th century. Which really sounds like you used to be a holodeck character and Q just somehow... turned you into a real person."
It's kind of weird that Janeway didn't spell this out to him. Probably she trusted him to figure it out himself.
"I'm sorry. That was tactless of me."
Kim thinks back to his Philosophy of Artificial Intelligence class at Starfleet Academy.
"The holodeck can create what appear to be people. But they're not, actually, people- they don't experience things."
"I think what must have happened is that, when Janeway shut down the program, Q created you from scratch, patterned after one of the holodeck characters. You have memories of a life in the 18th century, but I don't think any of it actually happened."
"I'm really sorry."
On the one hand... everything he has ever known or believed in is false, his family and friends are not only gone but they never existed in the first place, and his every past achievement or future hope is meaningless and gone.
On the other hand... what does it change, really?
"You and Captain Janeway both referred to my time as 'the 18th century.'" Strictly speaking, 1804 is the 19th century, but Laurence lived most of his life so far in the 18th -- or believed he did -- and isn't inclined to quibble. "Were the things that I remember real, in your past? England? Napoleon?"
He doesn't dare to ask about himself personally, nor his family and friends. Surely history wouldn't remember him this far into the future, even if he were anything more than a character in a novel. It doesn't matter, really. At least that's what he tells himself.
"What became of him?" No reason not to ask now. "Is England part of your Federation? Who rules it?"
Laurence briefly considers that Ensign Kim could be wrong about his origins. But in his heart, he believes it. It explains all too clearly why Captain Janeway avoided the subject.
History test?
"Hmm. Napoleon was defeated eventually. I don't think he managed to expand France in the long term."
Civics is much easier.
"England is part of the European Alliance, which is itself part of United Earth, which is in turn part of the Federation. I don't know much offhead about the European Alliance government but it's presumably some form of republic. United Earth has an elected president, as does the Federation. Certain powers fall to the Federation, others to United Earth."
Didn't expand France in the long term. It's hard to process that. Much of his life's work was a small fraction of the effort required to defeat Napoleon, and with the march of centuries, the battles, the plans, the great men who worked and died to accomplish it, have all been reduced to that one footnote. It gives a new sense of perspective to five hundred years.
And England merely one part of a Republic. A Jacobin one? "Is there no more gentry, then?" It occurs to him to ask about the other historical development he hoped to see in his lifetime. "And the slave trade, what became of it?"
He realizes that he'll finally have to ask more questions. "Computer" was the word Janeway used when asking... someone... about the eradication of the common cold (and just how could an entire disease be eradicated? Not important). For that matter, he doesn't understand how people's voices seemed to be coming out of nowhere when Janeway tapped the badge on her chest. He'll start with the first question he can think of.
"But perhaps those questions are better asked of ... the computer," he adds belatedly. "Who or what is the 'computer'?"
Harry's face hardens when he realizes that this man might be a slaver.
"Slavery was abolished globally well before the unification of Earth. I hope that's not a problem for you."
He realizes abruptly that not only is Lord Allendale surely unknown to Ensign Kim, he is also, in all likelihood, fictional.
In more subdued tones, he finishes, "No. I am truly glad to hear it. I have always considered the trade the most vile and un-Christian practice devised by man."
They reach a turbolift.
"Deck 7."
"I'm glad to hear you say that."
"As for the computer, it's a machine that you can talk to. It can answer purely factual questions. Very good at math, not so good at writing a novel."
The turbolift doors open, revealing deck 7.
"It also manages many of the ship's systems. For example, turning the ship requires firing dozens of thrusters in exactly at exactly the right time, with exactly the right thrust. We tell the computer where we want to point the ship and the computer determines exactly how to make that happen."
"You can ask it a question by addressing it as 'Computer'."
Addressing it... "But... where is it?"
This time Laurence pays more attention to the fact that he was in a small, accelerating room and now is in a different location. "Does it control the ship's 'decks' as well?"
(So far Laurence has not heard anyone say the word "turbolift.")
"Control the... decks?"
"Oh you do you mean when we stepped into the turbolift back there, I said 'deck 7', and it took us to deck 7? Yeah that's the computer."
"The computer is on decks 10 through 12, but it can hear you anywhere on the ship."
"I... see."
It seems rude to have a conversation with the 'Computer' while Ensign Kim is still here, so Laurence will try to think of something else to ask about.
"You said slavery was abolished on Earth. What of the other planets?"
"Slavery is illegal across the entire Federation. Outside it... Cardassia enslaved Bejorans during the occupation, although most of them are free now. The Romulans enslave the Remans. The Klingons... might? I'm not actually sure. The Dominion certainly practices slavery."
"So, uh, most of the major powers outside of the Federation."
Kim makes it sound as though there has been no moral progress since Laurence's time. Yet... 150 planets the size of Earth, all without the scourge of slavery, is no mean feat.
Laurence nods. "Most unfortunate," he says, unable to find adequate words, "that it should persist."
He's gone too far afield. Perhaps a lighter subject; after all, he may be shipmates with Ensign Kim for a long time.
"How long have you served with Voyager?"
"Oh, 2 weeks, same as everybody else. The Caretaker took Voyager on its first mission, less than a day out of Deep Space Nine."
He looks sheepish.
"Actually, this is my first post out of the academy."
"Your first post! Congratulations. Did you always want to join... er. What is the name of your service?"
"Starfleet."
"And yes, absolutely. All my life, I wanted to join Starfleet. Explore the galaxy, you know?"
They reach a door. It doesn't open for Harry, but he gestures Laurence forward.
"I expect that I do. I was always mad for the sea, since I was a small boy. Disappointed my father greatly when I ran away to the Navy at twelve."
Laurence is slightly puzzled by the door, but he has seen Kim and Janeway go through doors that open of their own accord several times now, so he edges forward towards it with only a trace of nervousness.
The door opens, revealing a modest cabin (at least, by 24th century standards).
Out the window, you can see the stars slowly streak past.
Laurence slowly steps inside. His eyes widen at the single full bed in the corner. "A private room?" he says, rather stupidly. Oh. Janeway said officer's quarters, didn't she, and he had missed it entirely. "I-- I must protest. I am no officer here, and surely do not warrant such lavish accommodations." He feels terribly self-conscious about this clear mark of status being bestowed on him. Voyager is large, but surely not so large that every crewman could be accommodated in this style.
"Well, I suppose you can take it up with the captain. I can't actually reassign your quarters."
Harry struggles to work out exactly why Laurence's objection sounds wrong to him.
"But I don't actually agree, and I don't think the captain would either. Everybody else on the ship signed up for it. You didn't. If somebody's life's dream" (he smiles) "is to join Starfleet, even if it means sharing a room, that's one thing. Nobody asked you."
He looks around.
"Anyway if it helps, this isn't even all that nice. This looks just like my quarters."
Laurence isn't quite satisfied by this, but he supposes that quarters equivalent to an ensign's are unlikely to be truly, offensively above his own station here. "I only hope that my presence here will not put anyone out who might contribute in greater part to the workings of ship and crew."
He looks around in slight puzzlement. The furnishings are very strange-- the fabrics seem extremely fine, yet totally lacking in adornment. He glances under the bed in search of a chamberpot.
Then he notices the window, full of streaks of light on black. "What... is that?" It almost looks like a painting, or illusion.
Harry's heart drops for a second, looking out the window expecting to see whatever crazy Starfleet thing comes next after the delta quadrant and the 18th century guy. But there's nothing there.
Then he realizes.
"Oh! Those are stars."
He gives a huge grin like he's Zefram Cochrane and personally invented warp travel.
No they aren't. Laurence has seen what stars look like before and that's not it.
... No, he supposes he hasn't seen what stars look like before. Not real ones.
"Are they always so..." he gestures, "long?"
"Oh no, that's an optical illusion caused by the warp bubble."
Surely Laurence has seen stars before, what a strange question.
Laurence doesn't really know what any of that means, but he nods, getting the general idea that the stars don't usually look like this. He hasn't felt this foolish since his school days.
What does he need to know to survive on this ship... Food and water. Sanitation. Laundry, eventually, but that can wait, his clothes were starched just yesterday. And how to earn his keep, as soon as possible.
This is mortifying to ask, but he sees no way around it. "Is there... That is... I see no chamberpot in the room," he says, trying to be as delicate as possible. "Do lower officers, er..." He trails off.
"Oh, uh, of course. Right this way."
Kim leads Laurence to the bathroom, and indicates the toilet.
"You, uh, do your business in here, and then press this button." He demonstrates flushing.
Laurence has SEVERAL questions about this that he is absolutely certain he will never, ever, ever ask. He nods stiffly.
Then he points to the replicator. "What is that?"
Harry likes this topic much better.
"This is the replicator! It can make, well, almost anything."
Harry walks over to the replicator and addresses it.
"Small bowl of kimchi."
It materializes the the replicator. He grabs it and starts eating.
Food magically appears in the box when you ask for it?? Also, what are those sticks that Ensign Kim is eating with? And the red stuff he's eating?
"What... sorts of food can it produce?" he asks. He's pretty sure he'd prefer even hard ship's biscuit to whatever that is, but he supposes he can make do if he must. "Where does it come from?"
Harry's eating vigorously to make sure he doesn't have to recycle his food or stall in Laurence's room, so it takes him a second to answer.
"Just about anything, really. What's your favorite food?"
"There are 11 variaties of roast beef available at this replicator. Plain roast beef. Roast beef sandwich. Sunday roast. Klingon roast targ. Stroganoff roast beef."
The replicator will continue in this vein for a while if not interrupted.
Harry's figured out how to explain the replicator!
"The replicator takes the energy from the warp core and turns out into food using the pattern buffers. It's like taking water and freezing it into ice. And the replicator is like a sculptor shaping the ice into exactly the right sculpture."
He nods to himself, satisfied.
"Ah-- a moment," he says to the replicator, then to Ensign Kim, "Do most crew eat in their quarters, or is there a mess?"
And then he wonders aloud "Are such devices in common use? ... I find myself at a loss as to what work there is to do anywhere, if so. Why do you sail such ships as these, if not for trade or war? ... Are you at war? This transportation of your ship seems to constitute an act thereof."
"I think, for most meals, about half the crew eats in the mess? Not the same half every time."
"Federation citizens do not, in general, need to work to survive. Most choose to anyway. People are still needed for research, for law, for engineering, for medicine, for politics, for art. But people see the benefit of work, to them, as the meaning it brings to their lives."
"As for why we, uh, sail these ships..."
"Well, mostly for exploration. The galaxy is enormous: it's going to take us 70 years to get back home to the other side, in the fastest ship in the fleet. Exploring it is Starfleet's primary purpose. Secondarily, Starfleet exists to defend the Federation."
"The Federation is at war with the Maquis, I suppose, although I think that makes it sound more dramatic than it is. Our original mission was to capture a maquis ship. But out here, that's not really relevant. Nobody we meet will have even heard of the Federation."
"I think you're right that bringing Voyager into claimed space without permission would be an act of war, but most space isn't claimed."
Research, law, engineering, medicine, politics, art.
None of those are areas where Laurence feels himself competent to contribute.
A vast empire, mainly at peace, with nothing for most of its people to do but work they invent to bring "meaning" to their lives, without any higher purpose but their own. Laurence should perhaps be happy that no one in this world suffers the depredations of war and privation, yet... he is oddly melancholy contemplating his own existence in such a world.
Then he notices a possible inconsistency.
"Is there not need for work in combat as well? In this war against the Maquis, and the defense of the Federation? And command, leading men in the other professions which you mentioned?"
"Oh yeah, sorry, there's lots of other jobs, including command. There's security: we don't have have, uh, infantry. Most Starfleet jobs are at least partially peaceful."
Security. Laurence is immensely relieved to hear it. Without qualifications or status, it seems unlikely that he could return to command anytime soon in this world, but combat at least he expects to be qualified for. Perhaps he can pick up the skills for the peaceful part on the job; it's how he's advanced in his life so far.
"Then there is at least one form of work I may be able to do here, I hope," he says. "I have seen my share of combat actions." Rather more than most men in his position, but Laurence won't venture so far as to boast.
Harry isn't sure 18th century naval combat is a transferable skill to Starfleet security. But it seems like a more likely job than, say, engineering, and he recognizes a need to be useful in Laurence from himself, and from his fellow students at the academy.
"I'll ask Lieutenant Tuvok to talk with you, then. He's chief of security."
He realizes the tour is pretty much over.
"If there's nothing else you need, I should probably get back to my duties. But, uh, I'm going to be getting lunch in the mess with a friend of mine at 1300 hours, if you want to join us."
"Thank you. I would be happy to accept."
Um. "How is time kept on Voyager?" Surely not by a man ringing a bell every half hour, he senses. He doesn't know how to get there either, but assumes Ensign Kim will fetch him or send a runner.
Laurence takes stock of his situation.
In some ways, it is extremely dire. The loss of his old life presses down on him as a heavy weight in the empty, alien room.
In other ways, it is much less so than many situations he has faced at sea. He faces no danger of starvation -- in fact, it seems he'll eat as well as he ever has in his life -- and has more luxury here as a penniless passenger than he did as a captain in his former life.
But luxury holds little interest for Laurence; if it did, he would never have left his family to pursue his dream of joining the Royal Navy. What he wishes most now is to satisfy his honor. He has very little idea how to do that here, but perhaps he can begin by assisting this Lieutenant Tuvok.
And there are two things, among the wreckage of his life here, that stand out.
First: He wanted to sail as a boy to see the world. The world as he knew it may no longer be available. But on Voyager, he is certain, there will be no shortage of strange and enticing sights.
And second: the Federation, it seems, is an empire worth serving.
Painful as it is to contemplate a life constrained to this vessel, with only a small number for company and no prospects of family life-- Laurence can accept almost anything, if his life is still to have an honorable purpose.
But there are some things he must know, though they have little bearing on his life ahead.
"Computer," he begins uncertainly. "Is Lord Allendale a name known to you?"
"1 match found. Viscount Allendale, a heraldic title of the United Kingdom. Created July 5th, 1911."
Laurence had always believed his family's title to have been created sometime in the 16th century.
"Have you any record of a fictional character by the same name?"
"1 match found, from the holonovel 'The Adventures of Captain William Laurence'. Lord Allendale is the father of the protagonist, Captain William Laurence."
Oh.
He was already nearly certain this was the case, but hearing it stated so plainly and factually is another matter.
He is not quite masochistic enough to ask further questions about the holonovel of which he is the protagonist.
Instead, he struggles to formulate his next question. "How many... That is, are there any lords of noble title assigned to the vessel Voyager? Gentleman officers?"
"Of the 1,782 systems of nobility on record, 1,292 have publicly available membership lists. However, access to the crew manifest is restricted, so cross-referencing is not possible."
Laurence spends a few minutes ascertaining some basic historical facts, such as: King George and Wilburforce were real; the American colonies still exist and are called "The United States of America"; England abolished slavery not long after Laurence's seeming departure, but it took the rest of the world rather longer; the English empire no longer exists, much like the French one.
It's all exceedingly strange. Laurence wishes he had a confidante, a friend to talk over all this with. Not Tom Riley -- the abolition of the slave trade might pose too difficult a subject -- but Edith Galman, perhaps.
A thought occurs to him. The holonovel that contains him-- might it have Edith as well?
But no. Ensign Kim said that holodeck characters were just that-- characters. Laurence has no desire to unburden himself to a phantom.
It can produce a map at any scale??
He struggles to recall his arithmetic lessons. "What are the length and width of the ship?"
Then he realizes the obvious. "Can the replicator produce a map scaled to fit inside its box," he clarifies.
A pile of papers shimmers into existence. Upon inspection, each one is a map of one of Voyager's decks.
Laurence scans for the mess, the... okay there probably isn't a kitchen... Any other sort of landmarks that a person from 1804 might recognize the names of?
"Computer, where do the crew spend time when they are off duty?"
Well, he can probably figure it out the same way he would back home.
He leaves his room, carrying the map and heading at a leisurely walk in the direction of the mess.
A woman in a blue uniform, with a single pip on her collar. She's typing on a PADD as she walks: if Laurence doesn't say anything she won't even see him.
A man in a yellow uniform, with no pips. He glances at Laurance, looks away, and then looks back, grinning.
"Wow! That's an amazing costume! Did you... make that for a holodeck program or something? That's commitment!"
(Laurence has vaguely noticed that they have pips that seem to designate rank, but hasn't yet figured out which is which in order to address people correctly. Unless he sees another Captain or Ensign. He wonders what the uniform colors mean, and makes a note to ask at his next opportunity.)
Oh no. Of course he sticks out like a sore thumb.
He hates drawing attention to himself, but it seems he has already done so merely by walking the halls.
"My costume indeed originates from the holodeck. As do I myself."
"Huh? Oh man that sounds really interesting but I got to get to a briefing, see you around!"
He jogs off.
In the turbolift, he meets a woman in a yellow uniform with a single pip.
She looks him up and down, but doesn't say anything.
He nods but says nothing. If she intends to be rude, he will return the favor.
(He ignores his faint unease at having met two black people in uniform. Clearly this is nothing unusual here.)
He checks the time before heading in. 1237, so he has some time to look around before Ensign Kim is scheduled to arrive.
There are BLUE people???
The strange monstrous people seem to be getting food and generally acting normal. Laurence is going to try his best to pretend this isn't happening and also act normal.
He doesn't move at first. Instead, he carefully edges out of the doorway so he's not blocking it, then looks around to see what other people are doing. Is there a bar or just tables with people eating replicated food? Do most people seem to be sitting with established groups? Anyone reading or doing other things while they eat, or just hanging out at the tables not eating?
(Looking around and holding still also gives him an excuse to brace himself and not make any sudden motions around the monstrous people.)
There's no bar, just a few replicators.
If Laurence watches for a few minutes, he'll see some instances of people joining existing groups. Either people are comfortable joining other groups or they were running late: it's not really possibly to distinguish the two.
Lots of people are reading, although most of them are either eating or continuing to read after finishing their plate. Everybody who's reading is doing so on a PADD, so it may not be recognizable to Laurence as reading.
Similarly, there are some people hanging out, not eating, but most of them have empty plates.
He doesn't want to start eating until Ensign Kim arrives, and doesn't feel quite comfortable joining any of the existing groups. It would be pretty pointless to sit by himself and wait. So he'll leave the mess and wander the halls a bit more to familiarize himself with the layout of the ship.
He consults the map again. What other areas might he recognize on it?
Some labels of interest that may or may not be familiar to Laurence:
Bridge
Captain's ready room
Escape pods
Mess
Gymnasium
Holodeck
Sickbay
Cargo Bay
Several transporters
Several torpedo bays
Phaser Array
Structural Integrity Field Generator
Science Labs
Water Storage
Life Support
Emergency Life Support
Deflector Screen
Deuterium Processing
Airlocks
Docking Ports
Warp Core
Several shuttle bays
Astrometrics
Main Computer Core
Warp Nacelles
Most of these are impenetrable. Captain's ready room, he understands. Mess and gymnasium and cargo bay. Holodeck and sickbay he has been to already. He can imagine what Water Storage is. Science Laboratory makes sense in theory, but why would there be one on a ship? He knows what "docking" is but a "port" being part of a ship doesn't make much sense to him. Everything else might as well be in Chinese.
Perhaps he'll ask Ensign Kim about this later.
How far is the gymnasium? Does he have time to investigate it briefly before lunch?
Laurence is good at navigating with a map. He will walk briskly over and peek inside the gymnasium.
There are:
Squat racks and benches
Treadmills
Punching bags
A bouldering wall
(If Laurence was from the 21st century, and didn't notice the gravity control panels, he'd probably find this completely normal)
This guy is doing squats!
Presumably Laurence doesn't know this, but his form is not very good.
He's shirtless, wearing a pair of shorts.
The classical sense of "gymnasium," then.
Laurence will leave him alone and return to the cafeteria to meet Ensign Kim.
He's not sure why Ensign Kim is surprised by this -- isn't a map the obvious way to get around? -- but he lets it pass.
Time to converse. Inquiring further about Ensign Kim's life would be terribly rude without a clear opening, of course. He could ask more questions about the ship or Starfleet. It seems a bit early in the conversation to launch into an anecdote from his own Navy days, not to mention a bit early in the day and light on alcohol. He's still confused about how socializing works here. How about...
"When I was a captain I used to invite my young officers to dinners in my quarters. It was a regular custom among Navy officers of greater status, though of course some were more likely to extend invitations than others. Does Starfleet have any such custom?"
"Hmmm. Well to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I'm the best person for you to ask. I've been out of the academy for 2 weeks. I can tell you that the captain hasn't invited me to dinner, anyway."
"Should we grab some food? It looks like Tom's running a bit late."
Laurence doesn't know what that is. So much for copying what Kim got.
He will again tentatively request "Roast beef," adding this time, "and potatoes."
Laurence is not exactly a simple man in the way of food -- he's been at many fine tables in his time -- but he is not exactly a creative gourmand, either.
The replicator apparently considers "and potatoes" to narrow things down enough, because it replicates some roast beef and potatoes without complaint.
"I believe I have some better sense of things now. My schoolroom days are far behind me, but it seems I am to return to them more or less."
He tries, and fails, to formulate a question about the "academy" that isn't horrifically rude. Ensign Kim looks a bit old to have just finished his schooling-- and he couldn't have had time to earn his promotion. Perhaps he had a noble title? But he wasn't introduced with one. It's a puzzle, but one Laurence has no way to pry at just now.
Instead he asks "Was Voyager a highly sought-after post?"
Harry grins.
"Yeah, actually. I was valedictorian at the academy and I wasn't all that confident I'd get it."
"Oh, uh, they rank the members of each graduating class, based on their academic performance mostly. Valedictorian is, uh, 1st."
Kim is somewhat discomforted at having to spell this out.
Ah! This is starting to make more sense.
"Admirable," says Laurence approvingly, feeling a flash of warmth for Kim. "Young men who attend this academy are favored for officers generally, then?"
"It's the only way to start your career as a commissioned officer. There are field commissions, but most officers went through the academy."
"Sounds like that's a bit different from how they did things in your time?"
"Remarkable that so many have the funds to enroll." To Laurence, an academy is primarily a place for indolent gentlemen to amuse themselves discussing philosophy. But he supposes this one must be different, if it's considered an appropriate preparation to be an officer. "My own schooling ended when I left home for the Navy, though the better captains will set their boys to sums and trigonometry. I learned enough to be going on with on board ship."
"Oh, we don't use money, generally. Anybody can go to the academy if they pass the entrance exam."
A man in a red uniform,(2 pips) sits down next to them, carrying a bowl of soup.
"Hey Harry."
He notices Laurence.
"Tom Paris" he says, extending his hand
"Capt-- er, William Laurence, at your service," he says with a slight grimace, shaking Paris's hand. He's vaguely uncomfortable that he doesn't know the man's rank to properly address him.
"That's... You're wearing a royal navy uniform, from what, 1820 or something?"
He glances at Laurence's shoulders.
"A captain's uniform? And I don't think I've seen you around on the ship, when I thought I'd met everybody. Where'd you come from?"
Oh great, this is just his life now, isn't it, having to tell people this story over and over.
"1804, in point of fact. I arrived on this vessel via the holodeck."
In his embarrassment he doesn't immediately notice that it's weird Paris knew what type of uniform he was wearing. He's used to most people knowing what his uniform means.
"Huh."
Who's program? What type of program?
Tom, however, doesn't have much time for that speculation, since he's got a real life royal navy captain in front of him.
"You ever think about going sailing in the holodeck someday?"
"I confess I have had little time thus far to consider any particular courses of action beyond the immediate necessities of life, as I arrived on Voyager not two hours ago."
Going back to the holodeck doesn't seem very appealing right at this moment, but he will not say that aloud.
A flash of disappointment, which may or may not be discernable on his face. That didn't sound very enthusiastic.
"Yeah, I get that."
He puts on a smile.
"So, how's the future?"
Exceedingly strange, terrifying, disappointing. "Very unlike my own time."
He tries to think of something positive to offer. "These replicators are amazing devices. And I was exceedingly heartened to learn that the slave trade has ended on Earth."
Tom manages to yield to Laurence on this one, although somebody posing close attention (that is to say, not Harry) could tell that he would have loved to field this question.
This subject, he feels more comfortable with. "Oh, different ways. Usually a boy would be at sea for several years before he got his step to ensign. One often meets officers with purchased commissions as well, or commissions awarded by means of title. I myself was promoted from a runner at a young age."
"No. We actually don't use money anymore."
He's pretty sure he said that already but maybe it wasn't clear.
He did say that but Laurence is having trouble comprehending what a society without money even... looks like.
"Nor award them by title?"
"Like a Duke or something. Didn't you study history in school, Harry?"
Turning to Laurence: "There isn't really any nobility on Earth beyond, bringing the king of England out for a parade every now and then."
"I was beginning to have the impression that the nobility is less important now than in my time," Laurence says, with classic understatement.
He says gently, carefully looking at both of them and not just Harry, "It seems to me it would be difficult, beginning a service career in adulthood. Officers who have been aboard ship since boyhood are generally more accustomed to the life of a Navy man."
"Wait, when you said you were a runner at a young age, you mean, like, a kid? Like 15 or something?"
"Twelve, but I knew some boys who had been aboard ship since nine or younger. I was made Ensign at age fifteen."
"Wow."
"I mean, I wouldn't say it was an easy change, but I don't really think it would have been easier earlier. My folks would have been devastated, too."
At least I wasn't stuck in a schoolroom until the ripe age of 22, he doesn't say.
He turns to Tom instead. "How long have you been serving in Starfleet?"
"It's a long story and to be honest I'm tired of telling it. Harry can fill you in."
He looks a bit conflicted, but stands up, nods to Harry, and walks off to recycle his plate, then leaves the mess hall.
"It's not your fault."
"Long story short, Tom was kicked out of Starfleet after covering up a piloting error that led to the death of 3 crew members. He confessed shortly after out of guilt, but obviously Starfleet didn't find that convincing. He joined the Maquis, got caught basically immediately, and was sent to prison. The captain offered him his freedom in return for helping track down the Maquis."
"After Voyager was abducted, he acted heroically to save myself and two other members of the crew. The captain restored his commission."
"Tom has had to tell this story many many times, and I think he just couldn't stand to tell it another time."
"I see."
Laurence thinks there might be some other reasons Paris doesn't want to tell the story, but he'll keep that to himself. Confessing a crime shortly after committing it improves the man's standing somewhat in Laurence's eyes; joining a rebel force immediately after, less so. Laurence does not think well of traitors to their country.
"Have you known him long?"
"No, we met on DS9 just before shipping out. Tom kept me from getting scammed into buying some jewelry for who knows how much more than it was worth."
More approvingly this time, "I see."
Then, he finally notices that he's confused. "Buying? With what?"
"Ah, I had thought... In my time precious metals used for trade would be considered money. The meaning is perhaps different in this century."
"Oh, right, right."
"We get a stipend in local currency when we're stationed outside Federation territory. DS9 is technically Bajoran, so we get some latinum to spend."
"Ah."
He asks a few more questions about money (can replicators make gold? Latinum?) and Starfleet (what do the uniform colors mean? Are later promotions based on academic performance?). He does not ask Ensign Kim any personal questions, because that would of course be incredibly rude.
He also asks, "Do you know Lieutenant Tuvok well?"
"No, I've barely talked to him, actually. I'm told the captain trusts him more than anybody else on the ship, so that has to count for something."
"Oh speaking of which, he said he could meet you in his quarters at 1600 hours, if you're still interested in joining security."
"Of course!"
He takes a quick look at his PADD.
"Hmm, I've got to get back to work. Thanks for getting lunch with me!"
Laurence takes the next couple of hours to wander around the ship and familiarize himself with the layout, still looking around to see what people are doing and where they're going. He's curious to see if there's any pattern to whether people are wearing uniforms, which uniforms seem to go to which places, and things like that. And of course, if he actually catches sight of anyone working, what they are doing.
There isn't too much information to be gleaned without going into rooms.
There seem to be slightly more red uniforms near the higher decks (lower numbers, confusingly). Yellow is the most common color by a long shot.
He doesn't see anybody out of uniform (except for the guy in the gym).
He's getting fewer and fewer perplexed glances as time goes on: word seems to be spreading.
(Laurence is obscurely glad that people are paying less attention to him as time goes on.)
And at the appointed hour, he arrives at Lieutenant Tuvok's door and knocks.
"You may enter."
The door opens at his words. Tuvok is sitting at a small table, glancing up from a PADD.
Okay! He was just starting to get used to seeing black people in officers' uniforms and now one of them also has a strange facial and ear deformity! And it's his prospective superior officer! This is fine!
Laurence will of course say absolutely nothing about the lieutenant's strange physical appearance, ever.
This is fine.
"Lieutenant Tuvok?" He tries his best to pitch this to sound no more questioning than it would meeting any stranger from 500 years in the future. Unclear whether he succeeds.
Laurence has a seat. "Sir."
Despite his apprehension at the lieutenant's strange appearance, he is somewhat relieved by the familiar situation of being in the presence of a superior officer.
As a captain he was more often on the other side of it, of course, but not always, and the protocol of it still calms him.
"The captain has briefed me on your situation"
A pause.
"Ensign Kim informs me that you wish to join the security team. Can you explain to me why?"
"It seems that I am to be living on this vessel for some time and trespassing on your hospitality. As this is the case, I would prefer to make myself useful however I can. I have little knowledge of the workings of a ship such as this one, yet I do have some experience of combat action, and Ensign Kim tells me that the security team is where such duties lie. Thus it is here where it seems I can be of most assistance."
"That is logical."
"My first concern is that you may be disappointed by the opportunities for advancement available to you on Voyager. I understand that, in your memories of pre-warp Earth, you were a captain. Ordinarily, I would not dissuade a young officer from pursuing such an ambition. But under our present circumstances, you would frankly be fortunate to advance past ensign. There will be no slots opened up by the construction of new ships, and retirement is unlikely as well."
"Is this acceptable to you?"
"The captain tells me that Voyager is not expected to reach its destination for 70 years, and there are unlikely to be ports of call where I might desire to stay.
"What I mean to say is, it is not as though I am more likely to advance while lying about the ship in idleness. Sir."
"Very well, then."
"I am not familar with pre-warp Earth armed forces, or combat. Can you describe your combat experience?"
Hmm, where should he start. He's spoken to gentlemen and ladies who know nothing of combat before, so perhaps there.
"Naval battles often begin with broadsides from cannon fire-- turning the ship to maneuver and send out cannon balls. But they often end with close combat with sword and pistol. I myself have faced battle on a number of occasions," he is aware that this is uncomfortably close to boasting, but comforts himself that the man did ask, "and am accounted a fighting-captain. The largest action I have participated in was the Battle of the Nile in 1798, in which I captained the Reliant." He remembers that Tuvok may not know these names. "It was fought for over three hours, with boarding parties and broadsides alike," he adds.
"An impressive record."
"Very well then. I propose that you undergo a holodeck combat simulation. Your enemies will not be real people, and you yourself will not come to harm. However, it will in all other respects appear to be real combat. Is this acceptable to you?"
It's a bit troubling that he can't tell if Tuvok really thinks his record is impressive or not. He's not sure which would make him more uncomfortable. They're both pretty bad.
Laurence is trepidated by the notion of returning to the holodeck, but not by combat. "Yes, sir, that would be acceptable."
"Very well."
Tuvok leads them to the holodeck.
"Would you prefer to warm up with a scenario from your native time, or start directly with a modern scenario?"
"Modern scenario." He doesn't particularly want to engage in more realistic combat than necessary.
Tuvok gestures to the phaser.
"This is a simulated phaser. Phasers are the primary weapon used by Starfleet personnel. This is the pistol variant, but there are also rifles and larger variants used for ship to ship combat."
"The power level of a phaser can be adjusted. At the lowest setting, which is the most commonly used, phasers knock most humanoids unconscious. At intermediate settings, phasers kill most lifeforms. At the highest setting, a handheld phaser will vaporise most lifeforms. More usefully, it will also cut though most but not all metals."
"A phaser dies not need to be reloaded, although it must be recharged after heavy use at high power levels. It can fire in short bursts or in a continuous beam."
"Any questions?"
That ... doesn't look like a pistol...
"It fires at range? How far?"
And: "How do you fire it?"
"The effective range varies by atmosphere and setting, but 1km is a reasonable rule of thumb."
He picks up the phaser and, after showing his hand positioning to Laurence, fires a glowing orange beam across the room. It vanishes just before hitting the wall.
"Indeed. The specifics vary, but a post-warp civilization is extremely likely to have invented handheld energy weapons. Since we do not interfere with pre-warp civilizations, one could not be our enemy."
A silence of a couple seconds.
"Would you like time to practice with the phaser before moving on to a more combat-oriented scenario?"
"Yes, please."
Lieutenant Tuvok is odd and he can't put his finger on why. But Laurence appreciates the straightforwardness of his approach.
Dozens of spheres appear throughout the holodeck. Some are stationary, some move quickly and erratically. Some are large and some are small.
He glances at Laurence's chest.
"Unfortunate. It appears you have not been given a com badge. Very well. When you are done, ask the computer to notify me. You may take as long as you wish. If you require rest, tell the computer to end program, and when you return, tell the computer to resume program Tuvok Gamma 3."
"Any questions?"
Tuvok is planning to leave him alone in this barren room to shoot at spooky floating spheres until he is done.
Okay.
Laurence asks Tuvok to walk him through changing the settings on the phaser, and show him how to fire it one more time, slowly, and show him the proper hand positioning and grip for firing at a few different angles and while moving quickly, and demonstrate how to charge it.
He also asks: "Is there a way to make it impossible to fire?"
Laurence thinks for a minute.
"Are there additional conditions for its operation? Might it explode if ill handled?"
"A phaser can be deliberately overloaded, causing a large explosion. However, I know of no cases where a phaser exploded accidentally."
This is work of a sort, and he sets to it.
He adjusts his grip and shoots over and over to figure out how to place his hands best. It's very different from the pistols he's used before, but in most ways easier. He marvels at how quickly and easily he can fire, with almost no time between shots. It makes practice much faster.
After the first hour, he feels he could use it in combat reasonably well. He keeps going for a second hour to build muscle memory and speed.
Then: "Computer, please tell Lieutenant Tuvok that I have finished with the exercise he set me."
Ah, it's time for dinner, isn't it.
Laurence will return to his quarters for replicated food (he asks for Yorkshire pudding this time) and then come back to the holodeck. Easier not to deal with the social minefield of the mess right now.
At 1900 hours on the dot, Tuvok returns.
"I intend to start with simpler and easier scenarios and work up from there."
He has the computer create a phaser and hands in to Laurence."
"Computer, level 1.”
A Klingon with a bat'leth appears at the far end of the holodeck. He pauses for a second then runs at Laurence.
Laurence leaps to one side and shoots the Klingon straight in the chest. He doesn't have much time to process the man's grotesque appearance.
"What weapon is that?" he shouts at Tuvok. It's not a phaser as you led me to expect, he does not say but heavily implies with meaningful eye movements.
The meaningful eye movements are entirely lost on Tuvok.
"That is a bat'leth, a Klingon melee weapon."
"Admittedly, you are unlikely to face a bat'leth, even in the alpha quadrant. Klingons do primarily use disruptors, which are similar to phasers. That they use bat'leth at all in actual combat is... illogical."
"Shall we continue?"
Laurence WANTS a SWORD. The HOLOGRAM got a sword.
"Are there more such weapons in your training exercises?"
"That is not a question I will answer, Mr. Laurence.In my experience, one is not always informed as to how exactly the enemy will be equipped."
"I can assure you that there are no weapons in these exercises that are entirely unfamiliar to you. A bat'leth is not very different from a sword, if you are armed with a phaser."
Laurence straightens his jacket. "Sir. I believe I am more effective in combat when wielding blade and pistol both, miraculous as these phasers of yours may be."
This had been going so well until now.
Tuvok considers his options. Ultimately, he's unwilling to have a member of the security team carrying around a sword. There are several reasons. First, he's extremely skeptical that Mr. Laurence is correct that a sword could be more useful than a phaser in any combat scenario. Second, a sword is fundamentally a lethal weapon. A phaser makes incapacitation just as easy as killing, which hugely reduces unwanted enemy fatalities. Third, Starfleet doctrine is not designed to accommodate a sword-user, and re-training the rest of the security team doesn't merit consideration.
He has a brief impulse to dismiss Mr. Laurence on the spot. Upon reflection, however, he decides that that would be unwise. A preference to use the methods one has trained extensively with, that one knows one can rely upon, may be logical. Tuvok does not, really, think it is logical in this case. But a fundamental requirement of working with humans is accepting that they are not always logical. There would be no Federation if Vulcans couldn't learn that tolerance.
(This last part is an automatic mental motion that requires barely any time for Tuvok: he's been working with humans for a long time.)
"That may be, Mr. Laurence, although I am skeptical. But regardless, to function as part of the security team, you must use the same equipment that they do. They must be able to rely on you having known capabilities, which they would not be able to if you went into combat with a sword. And if this exercise is to have value, then it must reflect the conditions under which you would operate as a member of the security team."
A sense of shame comes over Laurence for his absurd request. Of course he cannot have different weaponry than all the rest of the security team uses; it's offensive to all sense of military discipline. It would be the height of arrogance for him to demand to use something different and special, simply because it's what he is used to.
"Of course, sir. I understand."
"Let us continue then."
"Computer, level 4."
Voyager's cargo bay (not that Laurence would recognize it) shimmers into existence. Laurence winds up behind a pile of cargo. Two Romulans shimmer into existence as well. They are armed with disruptors, but they're distracted: they're searching the cargo for something.
Laurence's first thought is discomfort with this scenario: the enemy hasn't attacked yet, is he to shoot them in the back?
But, he realizes, of course the premise is that they've already taken action that warrants attack, perhaps by searching in a cargo hold for something that doesn't belong to them. And they are, after all, holograms and not real (Laurence quashes his niggling doubts on this count; he certainly has no way to gainsay it).
Laurence stays hidden, finds an opening, and drops the first Romulan; then it takes him just a second longer to remember that he doesn't have to reload and drop the second one.
Tuvok has a lot of exercises up his sleeves.
Defend the bridge! Escape pursuit in a forest! Steal a guarded gewgaw!
Laurence displays extremely good marksmanship, athleticism, and ability to think on his feet during the exercises.
He's used to doing stuff like this on the deck of a rolling ship with a gun that doesn't work half the time. This is pretty easy by comparison.
"Well done. For the remaining exercises, you will lead a small team."
Rescue a prisoner! Protect civilians as they board lifeboats! Arrest a thief!
Laurence is pretty good at this too. Fortunately the holodeck characters seem to understand his dialect, and are also skilled and responsive to command.
The briefing for the next exercise:
"We've learned that there is a path through a plasma storm that would allow us to cut two weeks off of our journey. The exact route is unknown to us, but we believe the Kazon, with whom we are currently at war, have a map. It is expected to be lightly guarded. Your mission is to retrieve the map."
"Retrieve the map from... an enemy vessel?" Laurence is unsure what the rules of warfare are in this century, but he's troubled by the notion of theft from a civilian, even one on an enemy side.
"In this case, Voyager's journey. That is to say, there is no urgency beyond the desire to return to the Federation as swiftly as possible."
"I see." Laurence takes a moment to think.
He asks to see all the information available about the installation and the hologram characters that will be assisting him, then starts the simulation.
A forest shimmers into existence around them. In the distance, where the briefing indicated the installation would be, there's faint light. Tuvok is there with them, watching.
Laurence and his holo-friends holo-subordinates jog towards the installation, spreading out slightly in formation.
They reach the edge of the forest. Tuvok remains behind.
The forest has been cleared for hundreds of feet around the installation. Sentries patrol around it, and other guards shine spotlights from towers. There are about a dozen guards visible.
This... does not appear to be "lightly defended."
"Retreat," he calls out, and jogs back to Tuvok.
"Sir. We are overmatched, much moreso than described. I believe we must instead accept the two-week delay."
"Indeed."
"Computer, end program."
Tuvok mentally reviews the exercises.
The initial combat exercises had gone very well. When Mr. Laurence had requested he return after only two hours, he had not had high hopes. But apparently Mr Laurence had been very skilled at whatever ranged weapons existed in his time, and the skills had transferred easily.
The command exercises had also gone very well. Tuvok had not actually expected a pre-warp human to be anything like worthy of the title of captain, but Laurence's tactical leadership had been excellent, and he had the wisdom abandon a fight not worth fighting.
"Mr. Laurence. You have performed admirably in these exercises. Under ideal circumstances, I would like to give you time to learn all the things a Starfleet officer should know. You are unfamiliar with this time, and I expect you to find many things confusing."
"However. Our circumstances are not ideal. Therefore, if you are willing, I intend to recommend to captain Janeway that you receive a provisional field commission of ensign. Your rank will remain provisional until you demonstrate knowledge of the basics of Starfleet regulations, modern technology, and starship operations. Until that time, you well spend half your time on duty learning, either from the computer or from other members of the crew."
"Is this acceptable to you?"
Laurence is surprised that the scenario ended so quickly, but--
"Yes, sir!" This is really the best deal he could possibly have gotten under the circumstances. Immediate commission as an officer, even provisionally, seems frankly generous.
Tuvok's communicator chirps.
"Lieutenant Tuvok, I need you in sickbay. There's been an... incident."
"I will be there shortly, commander." Tuvok replies.
He turns to Laurence.
"It seems I am needed elsewhere. Before I go, please take this."
He hands Laurence a combadge.
"This is a combadge. It will allow you to communicate with the crew. The computer can tell you how to use it."
He turns to leave.
"I shall submit my recommendation to the captain tonight."
He walks out.
Laurence will head back to his room and spend some time talking to the computer and experimenting with using his combadge.
Eventually he manages to contact someone. "Good evening, Ensign Kim."
Harry's on his way with Tom to a meeting.
"Oh hey Mr. Laurence! How did it go with Tuvok?"
He looks meaningfully at Tom, who's walking with him.
Really, Harry? You think now's the time to try and patch things up with the amazing naval guy?
Tom shakes his head vigorously.
"Lieutenant Tuvok intends to recommend my commission as a provisional ensign," he says only slightly reluctantly, finding no way to downplay the achievement. "On the condition that I spend half of my time on duty learning more of Starfleet and your ships and technology."
"Thank you."
He's not sure what else to say. There's silence.
(Laurence has never used a phone before.)
Fortunately for Laurence, Harry has somewhere to be.
"Hey sorry I have to go, I've got a meeting."
"Er. Good evening, then."
Laurence goes back to talking to the computer about how starships work for people who didn't get past 24th-century elementary school trigonometry, let alone high school quantum physics.
About 15 minutes later, there's a bang.
The ship starts shaking violently. A klaxon starts wailing, and red lights flash on the walls.
After about 15 seconds of this, the shaking stops, followed shortly by the klaxon and lights.
The ship is silent again, except for the ever-present background hum.
Laurence freezes in place.
Something bad is happening. He considers asking the computer what it is but is worried that it is busy. (What if someone else needs to use it during the emergency?) He knows that the best thing a civilian can do in a gale is stay in their quarters and not disturb those who are working.
He stays in his quarters, and does not disturb anyone.
Eventually Laurence unfreezes but still doesn't want to disturb the computer, in case there are problems ongoing.
He goes to bed and lies in the dark for a long time before finally falling asleep.
When he wakes, Laurence notices his head is pounding painfully and he feels nauseated.
He's ill? His stomach roils, whether with nausea or anxiety he isn't sure.
It's not as though he's going to bother anyone in the middle of the night with a minor illness. He considers asking the replicator to make him tea, but getting up feels too difficult just then. He stays in bed and eventually falls asleep again.
A few hours later, the ship shakes again, more violently and for longer than last time. A few minutes after, there's a noise that sounds approximately like:
wwwhhhooooOOAAAAAAYYYYYYEEEEEEE-STHFVZEEEEEWWWWW-GHWOOOSH!
The stars start moving again.
Laurence is awakened more by the strange sound.
He notices that he no longer feels nauseous.
... Is this what passes for a normal night on Voyager?
He grits his teeth, then gets up and asks the replicator for some tea before going back to bed.
"There are 104 variaties of tea available at this replicator. Congou. Pu-erh. Junshan Yinzhen. Maghrebi mint. Andonian. English afternoon. Shui Jin Gui...."
The replicator will go on like this for quite some time.
"English afternoon," he says somewhat randomly, since it sounds the closest to something familiar.
He accepts the tea and drinks it muzzily, marveling at the speed and convenience of the replicator even when compared to having servants on call as he sometimes did at home. Not that he would ever have woken them up in the middle of the night just for tea.
Then he goes back to sleep.
At some point Laurence wakes up. The room is still dark. The stars are unchanged.
"Computer, what time is it?"
Laurence doesn't feel tired at all despite the early hour. He gets up, gets dressed (in his same clothes; it's not like he has any others), and asks the replicator to make him a book about starship operations.
(He'll ask the computer a few clarifying questions about what titles are used to teach this at Starfleet Academy before selecting a specific one to be replicated.)
Laurence will eat something from the replicator and study the book for a long time unless he is interrupted.
He is not usually so bookish, but the situation has him feeling desperately unlearned.
"In that case, please replicate a Starfleet uniform and meet me in my ready room at 0730."
She pauses for a second.
"Hold on. Is it clear to you how to do both those things?"
"I believe I can find my way to the ready room at the appointed time. Does the replicator ... make adjustments to clothing?" How does this even... work... without a tailor to take your measurements. Everyone he's seen had perfectly fitting clothing, so clearly they're doing *something* to make that happen.
"Yes, the replicator will automatically use your measurements on... file..."
She should have thought of this beforehand.
"However, it seems I've overlooked that you of course have no measurements on file. I'll send Ensign Kim over with a tricorder to take them."
Um. "Yes, sir," he acknowledges. He's had measurements taken before. It seems odd that Ensign Kim would do it, but he's not going to question the captain.
Harry shows up about 10 minutes later, looking slightly disheveled.
"Hey-"
Harry has been feeling increasingly awkward about the "Mr. Laurence" thing but he doesn't really want to deal with it right now.
"-, give me one second and I'll get you scanned."
He pulls out his tricorder and pans it over Laurence.
"Good morning," Laurence responds reflexively, and stands there while Kim waves around his whatever-it-is.
"Ok, you should be good. I'm gonna see if I can grab another bit of sleep, but congrats again."
He walks out.
"W--" Laurence fails to get out any words before Ensign Kim is gone.
Is... he supposed to... do something now? Surely that wasn't everything involved in taking his measurements?
He's not quite sure this will work, but the captain is probably waiting for him, so he'll give it a try.
He addresses the replicator. "Starfleet security uniform."
How... does this clothing work.
Laurence takes a while trying to figure this out, as well as the... undergarments situation. He ends up with a uniform that sort of seems to fit him, but he doesn't think he's put it on entirely correctly and it looks a little odd.
Also, he's still wearing his buckled shoes. He doesn't remember what kind of shoes the other crew were wearing and these should be fine, anyway. At least they're not too decorative so he hopes they won't seem gaudy to the other crewmen.
He checks the time with the computer before heading up to the captain's ready room.
Laurence enters. He's mostly used to the self-opening doors by this time. He waits for Janeway to speak first, since she's his superior now.
Janeway puts down her third cup of coffee this morning. She's had a long night.
"Leiutenant Tuvok wrote me a report" she holds up a PADD "describing your performance on his tests as 'satisfactory'. High praise, coming from him."
She stands up, taking a pip from her desk, and carefully pins it to his collar.
"I didn't get the chance to say it when you arrived, so - welcome aboard, Ensign Laurence. We're glad to have you."
"Thank you, Captain." It's remarkably gratifying, despite being a significant demotion from his former rank. He suspected that he must have performed very well on Tuvok's tests to have passed despite his severe deficiencies, but it's good to hear it confirmed.
He should perhaps feel more saddened by his change of circumstances than he is, but it's hard to feel sad with the captain looking at him with approval.
As she pins the pip on his collar, he suddenly remembers that she is an unmarried woman and they are alone in a room and this actually isn't the first time this has happened but it is far more noticeable with her hands so close to his face. Do Starfleet women officers care for their reputation at all? They must not. He is seized with guilt at causing such disrepute to her, yet... it seems she feels no such concern.
His face flushes and he stands with his hands stiffly at his sides.
Ah, that's the "I'm an 18th century man unsupervised with a woman oh no" look. She hadn't expected to see that in real life.
Unfortunately, Laurence is now in her chain of command.
She steps back.
"Lieutenant Tuvok will be running a boot camp to help you and the Maquis integrate into the crew, starting at 0830 in cargo bay 2."
She hadn't initially thought that would be necessary, but between B'elana punching Carey and Laurence showing up from 1804 it seems wise.
"Dismissed."
She'd been planning on correcting the "sir"in person but it didn't actually come up. Oh well.
Laurence ducks his head awkwardly in acknowledgment and leaves.
He'll go back to his room to consult his map about the location of cargo bay 2 and be there at 8:30.
Cargo bay 2 turns out to be a large, mostly empty room. There are a few boxes, about as tall as Laurence and equally wide and deep, piled in a corner.
Laurence is a few minutes early. Who's here?
A half-Klingon woman storms in at 0830 on the dot (not that Laurence has any way to know that).
"Tuvok! I can't believe you've dragged me into this utter waste of time! I'm fending off power failures left and right, I was up all night saving the ship from a quantum singularity, the captain wants the warp drive operational by 1300 and now you want me here to relive my lovely days at the academy?"
How shockingly rude. And to a superior officer, too.
He wonders a little about what happened to her face, but this is eclipsed by his surprise and disapproval at her behavior.
Laurence is not aware that B'elanna is, as of a few hours ago, the head of a different yellow department, and of equal rank to Tuvok.
"Perhaps if you had completed your time at the academy, you would have learned not to strike your crewmates over engineering disputes. My recommendation was that you be court martialed, which I expect you would have found a much greater imposition."
The blue person again.
Laurence has seen men with deformities or discolorations on their face before, among motley crews. He can only assume that there is some strange and novel weapon or accident that befell this man. Certainly he has no reason to remark or rudely inquire on it.
As for the angry deformed woman, well, Tuvok is as far as he can tell a good officer with good judgment. And a court-martial for striking a crewmate seems reasonable enough, if perhaps a bit harsh. (Normally Laurence himself would extend a certain benign ignorance to such disputes, if the principals did not go so far as to allow the conflict to affect their work. But he assumes that this case was bad enough, if Tuvok believed it so.)
The question, then, is why the captain disagreed with Tuvok.
His slight sense of unease at how the crew is managed is growing. He'd done his best to put away his doubts about having a woman in command before-- after all, he is in an unfamiliar time with strange customs-- but this seems like a clear error on the captain's part. Could it be due to an unsuitable temperament? Too much sentimentality towards her fellow?
Nevertheless, he resolves not to interfere. An officious crewman cannot possibly help. The only thing worse than a poor captain is a mutiny, and he has no desire to make Voyager's already dire situation worse.
"Carey and I worked it out well enough."
"But fine. I'm here, we're all here, let's get on with it if we're doing this."
"Very well."
He adjusts his stance slightly, and speaks to the room as a whole.
"The captain has asked me to ensure that you are trained to the standards of Starfleet. We will be-"
The Bolian notices Laurence.
"Hey who's this guy?" he interrupts.
"I thought I knew everybody on the Val Jean but I've never seen him before."
When Tuvok opens his mouth to respond, the man standing next to him jumps in.
"Hey, leave him alone. He's just a kid."
Things don't get much better from there.
Tuvok manages, more or less, to get the (former) Maquis through a series of exercises: running, pushups, sit-ups, etc. But they're sullen and constantly scooting as close to insubordination as they can manage without actually giving Tuvok cause to throw them in the brig.
Finally, it's over. Tuvok starts handing out PADDs "These are your study assignments. A reminder that there will be unannounced examinations on your study materials. Dismissed."
Laurence is puzzled by all this. This is some sort of exercise, but it doesn't seem particularly useful when it's so different from any actual combat scenario. Is Tuvok just making them run around to get tired? What is the point?
On top of that, he has real unease about the poor relations between Tuvok and these members of the crew. They all seem to hate the lieutenant and it's not clear why. Could it be because of these strange assignments? Some of them seem to think it's a waste of time as well. But surely Tuvok has some reason for putting them through this? The activity is so utterly bizarre to Laurence that he's sure there must be some explanation that he's missing because of the time gap.
No, it seems more likely that they are discontented with the state of the ship's management in general, and as a result are resentful and disorderly.
Is there anything he can do?
Pondering these questions, he gingerly takes the PADD, holding it at an odd angle with one finger on the screen. (He's trying to imitate how he's seen other people holding them, but not doing very well at it.)
A Bajoran woman catches B'elanna's attention on the way out the door, and they walk out together, talking quietly.
Laurence does not particularly notice this. He heads back in the direction of his quarters, using his badge to call Ensign Kim on the way.
He feels awkward issuing an invitation under these circumstances, knowing hardly anyone and with such low rank. Yet... his rank is only two weeks lower than that of Ensign Kim, by seniority, and though he has provisional status and a profound ignorance that must soon be corrected, one might argue that he is still the senior of the two given his Navy experience.
Such are the excuses Laurence offers himself to overcome his resistance. In truth, there is no real appropriateness to his action, yet it seems that there is no one else on the ship inclined to such a course, and his instincts are telling him that it may be vital to their very survival.
"Ensign Kim, would you join me for a hand of cards in my quarters this evening? Yourself and any officers you might care to invite?"
"Excellent. If I may, could I trouble you to arrive somewhat earlier than the rest? I have a few questions for you about an assignment from Lieutenant Tuvok."
Harry would relish the opportunity to be "cadet at the top of his class" again instead of "least experienced officer on the ship".
"No problem."
When Kim arrives, Laurence has managed to set his quarters up to be reasonably hospitable. The table has chairs set around it, there are packs of cards, there is a decanter of wine and glasses. He considered asking the replicator for cigars, but decided against it given his lack of certainty about the fire danger on this ship.
Laurence is sitting in one of the chairs with his PADD. He's still putting his fingers on the screen like some sort of animal.
"Good evening. Could you demonstrate the use of this device for me?"
Of course Laurence doesn't know how to use a PADD.
Oh that must be why Laurence replicated a physical map!
Wait probably teaching Laurence how to use a PADD was supposed to be his job when Janeway assigned him to get Laurence oriented
Nope!
"Sorry, I should have explained about PADDs when we first met."
Harry teaches Laurence how to use a PADD.
Meanwhile, outside Laurence's room:
Tom hesitates at the door. This was probably going to be awkward no matter what he does. Oh well.
B'elanna shows up a few seconds later.
"You have to push the button, you know."
She pushes the doorbell, and a chime sounds in Laurence's room.
Laurence is mildly shocked at B'elanna's appearance in his quarters.
(Kim invited a woman to their card game??)
Ok, Laurence looks pretty freaked out, actually. But Harry knows that Laurence met Tuvok. Maybe he... didn't notice the ears? And B'elanna is more obviously an alien?
How does he handle this?
He recovers his composure quickly. "Good evening, Paris." Then he nods stiffly to B'elanna. "I don't believe we have been introduced."
"B'elanna Torres."
She sticks out her hand.
"I think I saw you in Tuvok's 'boot camp'. Wasn't exactly a good time for introductions."
"No, I suppose not." He hesitates, then takes her hand with a slight bow, suppressing the instinct to kiss it. Somehow she doesn't look like she would appreciate that ordinary courtesy. "William Laurence."
He tries not to stare at her forehead. Up close, it looks almost too regular to be a scar. Some sort of ritual disfigurement?
Ok Laurence seems to have gotten over it pretty quickly. Maybe he knows about aliens in general and just hasn't seen a Klingon before? That would be convenient since it wouldn't require Harry to do anything awkward.
Having been exposed to a third Weird Starfleet Thing where the ship got stuck in a black hole, Harry is still pretty happy with Laurence's arrival, but this is not very fun to navigate.
Something weird happened when Laurence greeted B'elanna. Maybe because she's Klingon? Maybe Laurence wasn't expecting a woman at cards?
There's no obvious way to find out and no obvious benefit to doing so, especially since Laurence probably thinks he's an idiot after their introduction.
"So, uh, what are we playing?"
Laurence clears his throat somewhat diffidently. "I had thought to consult the opinion of the group on what games might prove most suitable." He did verify with the computer that games with 52 card decks are still played in this time, and that even some of the ones he plays-- played, he thinks painfully-- are still around, but the computer was unable to answer questions about how likely the crew were to know any particular ones. "I have chiefly been used to playing whist, and I understand it is still played by some in this time, but I don't know if you are familiar?" He glances around.
He's heard of whist, although he doesn't actually know the rules.
"No, but we can learn, I think."
Laurence will explain the rules of whist, then. It's a trick-taking game, so it has some similarity to modern games that they might (or might not?) have seen before. It's convenient that they have four people to make two pairs from opposing sides of the table. He'll invite them to sit down, and also partake of the wine.
(Laurence is avoiding Torres's gaze for most of this. It's very strange having her here-- but what is he going to do, *say* something about it? Not likely.)
Laurence explains the concept of bidding on one's hand, or declaring how many tricks you think you can take. Generally you and your partner have to take the correct number of combined tricks, so you would ideally want to coordinate with them in private, which is not actually possible. "Table talk" (explicitly telling your partner about your hand) is prohibited, but there is a fine art to reading your partner's signs based on what exactly they bid, their expression, and so on.
Torres is his partner for the round.
Laurence, stone faced and not looking at her, bids 3.
B'elanna hasn't played a trick taking game before. Let's see... 12 tricks total, 8 total bids after half the other players have gone, so she should probably err on the low side?
Wow did she kill Laurence's cat or something? Why's he pointedly not-looking at her like that?
No wait, it's probably a card game thing. She's not clear on the optimal facial expression strategy but probably that's what he's doing. No need to jump to conclusions.
Anyway back to her hand. Her cards are... Lower than average? She doesn't really know what that translates to in terms of expected tricks though. Between her low cards and the high other bids though...
"1."
Tom bid really high. Presumably that means he should bid high too, if his hand isn't terrible? It doesn't look terrible.
"Bid 5."
Paris and Kim lose very quickly.
Torres seems to be a reasonable partner, which surprises Laurence somewhat. She was over-cautious, if anything, but it's not exactly her fault that the other partnership overplayed so absurdly.
He's still going to be stiff and avoid addressing her directly, though. She was inexcusably rude to Tuvok.
Harry had, in fact, figured out that his bidding strategy didn't make sense about 1 trick into the hand.
"I know, I know. I've never played a game like this before!"
(It wouldn't get him drunk even if it were real alcohol. Laurence can drink all of these people under the table. He won't notice any difference at this time.)
After they have gotten more accustomed to the game, a couple of hands in, Laurence finds an opening to ask a question. He's looking mainly at Kim but directs his gaze around to the rest of the table as well.
"Were you awoken by the disturbances last night?"
He's aware that B'elanna was involved, but it seems rude to presume on that knowledge since her outburst wasn't directed at him.
"Well, I mean, I was on the bridge when it happened, but you should really be talking to B'elanna, not me."
He turns to B'elanna.
"From what I could see, you just about saved the ship there!"
This was the third Weird Starfleet Thing. This one was worse than Laurence but better than the Caretaker. He'd been hoping the next one wouldn't involve any fear that the ship would be destroyed but it seems like that may have been to much to hope for.
"I think the captain should get some credit too, but yes."
"The ship was trapped in a quantum singularity. I figured out how to expand a crack in the event horizon using a dekyon beam, which let us escape before the ship was cushed."
"Hey hey hey. Who flew us through the rupture?"
It was Tom. Tom flew them through the rupture.
But he does understand "escape before the ship was crushed" and "saved the ship."
"Are such dangers commonplace for Starfleet vessels?"
Is Tom seriously the one with the most Starfleet experience here?
"Well... I wasn't on the Exeter for very long, but nothing nearly this exciting happened there. So far on Voyager two really scary things have happened: the Caretaker thing, and this."
"And this is the captain's first post as captain as well, isn't it?" he asks, cutting at the heart of the general air of ignorance he perceives.
... And belatedly adds, "I thank you. Both of you. For my own rescue, at a minimum, though that is little enough against that of the rest of the crew."
And, he expects, it is even more challenging to save the ship when most of the crew is so inexperienced and half of them hate the other half.
What a rude response from Torres. He'll let it pass.
Laurence looks amused. "A hundred years, is it? Perhaps it must seem so to one so new to Starfleet as yourself." He's starting to feel a little more comfortable with Kim, enough for this very light teasing about the other ensign's obvious exaggeration.
"Harry, what are you doing? You didn't tell him anything about Vulcans?"
He turns to Laurence.
"Vulcans live, what, 200 years or so? I don't actually know anything about Tuvok's career but it's entirely possible."
"Harry's sort of right. He joined about 80 years ago but actually left pretty soon after for a long time. I think he's got something like 30 years in Starfleet?"
Not knowing Tuvok's biography would have gotten her arrested if not for the Caretaker thing, so she's done some reading after the fact. This was not, in fact, helpful, since she is very unlikely to be betrayed by Tuvok again, but it still seemed like the thing to do.
"Vul... kens?" he says, hesitantly.
Then: "Do you... That is, does the term 'year' still refer to one revolution of the Earth around the sun?"
He spares a second to give Tom a glare. Looks like Laurence didn't pick up on aliens after all.
"So, I think I forgot to explain something important."
"Not all the people in the federation are human. There are 173 member species," they make you learn that in elementary school "all of which originate on their own planet."
"Tuvok is a Vulcan, which is to say, he's not human. B'elanna is half Klingon. There are several other species on board."
B'elanna doesn't really love being the example alien here but it doesn't seem reasonable to object.
Laurence is so mortified asking this that he wants to sink into the floor, but. Somehow he can't help himself. "Half... um... Klingon?"
"Well, when a mommy Klingon and a daddy human love each other very, very much..."
Probably this isn't a useful response, but she can't really bring herself to care.
This response is, regrettably, very useful. He hates this so much. Why did he ask that.
Still blushing furiously, he thinks for a moment.
"I suppose," he says very slowly, "it is sensible that other... er... people," he looks around to verify that they think that's the right word, "would be so similar to humankind, since surely God made them all in his own image."
He's trying his best to be conciliatory here.
B'elanna has a complicated relationship with her Klingon ancestry. She would not, normally, refer to Klingons as "we". But she's incredibly tempted to say "We killed our gods."
She's not going to do that. She is a rational person who doesn't pick fights for no reason.
"About two years ago, the Enterprise discovered a message from an ancient species that most intelligent life in the galaxy is descended from. So it's not entirely shocking."
He's softening this a bit. More accurate would be to say that most intelligent life in the galaxy was created by the Precursors, but that might get into the religion thing.
It's amazing how unhelpful his class on "interacting with religious aliens" is here. With aliens, who knows? Maybe their god is real! They might have some sort of energy life-form living in their moon and if you've been there for 2 days you might not have detected them yet, so it's easy to take it seriously. It's a lot harder with a, what, Catholic? guy, whose religion died about 300 years ago.
Laurence is having trouble making sense of Kim's sentence.
"'Intelligent life' -- by that you mean to refer to ... humans and the alien races? But how can they be 'descended' from this ancient ... species?"
Oh boy, evolution is also a bit of a minefield with catholicism, right? And if he's forced to elaborate on the Precursors that's going to be even worse.
"It might make sense to ask the computer? It's probably got a better explanation then I can come up with off head."
A bit cowardly, maybe, but it's kinder to let Laurence have a crisis if faith in private if he's going to.
(Laurence would be SO offended to be referred to as Catholic.)
"Er. Of course. I must apologize for my ignorance of such matters." He's not quite sure what matters he's referring to, but oh well, he's ignorant of pretty much all of them.
Moving on! Let's see if Laurence can avoid putting his foot in his mouth for like five seconds at a time!
This is a slightly more delicate subject. Hopefully it is just delicate in a way he can actually understand, instead of some bizarre future way that he has no way of knowing about.
Laurence gives it a few more tricks of quiet before speaking again.
(He glances at B'elanna, more uncertain of his judgement of her than before.)
"It seems relations among the original crew and the Maquis crew members are still rather... strained, are they not?"
It seems like things are fine? B'elanna was made chief of engineering and Chakotay is first officer, so hopefully the Maquis feel well represented. Nobody's complained to him, anyway.
And B'elanna is actually fairly friendly towards him? Which obviously doesn't necessarily generalize, but still seems like a good sign.
But he doesn't really want to speak for the Maquis here, they have the more awkward side of this. He's not going to answer first if he can help it.
It seems like things got worse just today for some reason. More cold glances from Maquis crew at superior Starfleet officers when they weren't looking. And Tuvok in particular seems to be very unpopular all of a sudden. He doesn't know why: it's not like the Maquis confide in him.
Obviously he's not going to take this one.
What is with this guy. Half the time he seems to be trying to make friends, and half the time he seems to think she's trash. If she takes this obvious opening to talk about her feelings, he's probably just going to do his wooden-faced "you're super rude but I'm going to ignore it because you're beneath me" face. Screw that.
"Oh, we're doing just great."
Oh, so she is an insubordinate hothead after all.
He frowns, unwilling to drop it just yet. Why did Kim and Paris stay silent and look at her? Have they no opinion on the subject?
He takes a sip of his wine. "That was evident enough at boot camp this morning. Not least in your conversation with Lieutenant Tuvok." He places a faint emphasis on the man's (man's? Vulcan's?) title. "Did he do something to offend you?" He is verging on sarcasm himself at this point.
And there it is! Amazing.
"Do you mean when he betrayed me and the entire crew of the Val Jean? Or do you mean that boot camp, as if the Maquis don't know how to run a starship?"
"And another thing! You should learn how to read rank insignia before you pull rank on somebody else's behalf -"
She makes a show of looking at Laurence's collar.
"- ensign."
His hands itch. He can't strike a woman.
She isn't wrong about his own rank, at least.
"Tuvok is the commander of security on this vessel, is he not, Lieutenant?" he says frostily. He inclines his head at her yellow uniform.
"And I'm chief engineer. So?"
Does Tuvok outrank her? The answer is "it's complicated". Tuvok is 3rd in line for the captaincy, while she's... quite a ways down that list. But if Chakotay or Janeway are on their feet, they have non-overlapping responsibilities. Tuvok can order her around if the ship is boarded: she can order him around if it'll help with a warp core breach.
Of course, none of that is really relevant, since the question at issue seems to be "Does B'ellanna have to scrape and grovel around Tuvok." The answer is no, regardless of rank. She'd have said the same to Chakotay or Janeway.
(Maybe not Janeway. But Tuvok certainly isn't the captain.)
He looks like he wants to hit her. That would be amazing, she hopes he does it. She's going to try and not throw the first punch here, though: she sent Leiutenant Carey to sickbay yesterday, and while that worked out okay in the end, probably Chakotay wouldn't like it if she did that again too soon.
Well this is spiraling out of control really fast. He makes eye contact with Tom.
They should probably both try to drag one person away. If either of them succeed, they might be able to avoid this actually descending into violence, which incredibly appears to be where this is going.
Harry, unfortunately, has the best raport with both B'elanna and Laurence. But he thinks he stands a much better chance than Tom does with B'ellanna, so he should try and talk her down.
Yeah, he and Harry need to try and break this up. He should take Laurence, since Harry is probably the only Starfleet officer B'elanna actually likes. Hopefully he'll reach the same conclusion.
He turns to Laurence.
"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"
Hmm. Unfortunately he hadn't thought past this point.
He doesn't actually know how to talk Laurence down here, because he... doesn't actually know why Laurence is needling B'elanna? Is it because she blew him off on the Maquis thing?
Well...
"I'll be honest with you, I have no idea how that got that bad that quickly. But it looked like you two were inches from a fistfight. Now I don't think that would be a good look for your first day as ensign, and I don't think that would be a good look for her first day as chief engineer. Can you tell me what just happened?"
But... He takes a breath. Why, then, did not Tuvok take responsibility for the insult himself?
He makes at attempt at answering Tom's question. "She behaved quite offensively towards Lieutenant Tuvok. I consider such conduct toward a superior officer unacceptable." His tone goes flat. "But perhaps I am interfering where I should not, in expressing an opinion on the matter."
This is actually super alien to Tom. Is it the general principle of the thing? He finds people ... behaving offensively, in some unspecified way ... to superior officers intrinsically offensive? That's kind of weird though since he just himself picked a fight with a superior officer. Maybe he didn't realize and didn't want to be embarrassed by backtracking? Maybe he considers what he did to be technically not offensive in some way, or less so in a way that makes it not a big deal (for all Tom knows, B'elanna spit in Tuvok's face, so maybe he's right)?
Alternatively, maybe he just really likes Tuvok for some reason? Tuvok presumably had to approve him joining security, so they probably met? Maybe they hit it off?
Alternatively, maybe he doesn't respect B'elanna for some reason he's not articulating, and is mentally adjusting her rank downward to the point where he's allowed to pick a fight with her under his definition of proper behaviour? Maybe because she's an alien? A woman?
Alternatively, maybe he hasn't quite realized he's not a captain?
Well, probably the best bet is to figure out what he's pissed off about. It seems better than "so are you a huge hypocrite or what?".
"What did she do to Tuvok?"
"Open insubordination in front of numerous of her crewmates. Shouted at him and said that her duties at the training were a 'waste of time.'" And, shockingly, Tuvok did nothing about it, which Laurence is regretfully beginning to suspect is an important fact as well.
Ok, so probably Laurence's definition of insubordination doesn't cover snide remarks. Sarcasam doesn't count as open insubordination.
"At the training? Sorry, I'm still trying to catch up here."
"I believe the phrase the captain used was 'boot camp'? For the Maquis crew members, and myself, to learn." He's puzzled that Paris wasn't there, now that he thinks about it, but won't say anything.
(Tom may be a traitor but he's still an academy graduate!)
Wow. That is, in fact, a huge waste of her time. Wasn't the warp core broken? Tom does not say this.
"Oh huh. I'm a bit surprised they're running senior staff through boot camp."
"... senior staff?" Wasn't B'elanna a traitor three weeks ago? How senior can she be?
"She runs Engineering. It's about... 20 people? And if she doesn't do a good job the ship explodes. It's pretty important!"
Tom feel a little bad hyping up B'elanna's status to Laurence like this. It's not that anything he's saying is wrong, but he doesn't really think Laurence should care about that all that much, since he's not in Engineering. On the other hand he's clearly very invested in people's ranks, and maybe this will get him to back off a bit. Probably reconciliation is out of the question here but this might go a ways to make things less hostile.
Voyager is a small ship, and Tom is going to be stuck on it for a very, very long time. That very, very long time would be a lot more pleasent if he didn't have to walk on eggshells whenever these two were in a room together.
At least they're probably not going to the brig for getting in a fistfight, things have calmed down a bit.
Laurence winces.
"I... see."
It is painful to ask so directly, but: "Engineering has the same uniform as security?"
"Ah."
Well, that explains something.
"Yeah, yellow is Operations, which includes both Security and Engineering, as well as Ops, which is, of course, not the same as Operations as a whole."
Well.
Mistakes may have been made.
He still doesn't like Torres's attitude, but, well... clearly this wasn't his business. And also clearly, he badly misjudged the relative hierarchy involved.
He thinks for a moment. His time at boot camp is suddenly recast, and Laurence realizes that Tuvok was handling the entire thing frankly quite poorly. Not with encouragement as he'd expect a good superior officer to do. Laurence sees nothing wrong with strict discipline, but it crosses the line into harshness when an officer fails to even make the attempt to gain the trust of his men.
And... there's another thing he didn't notice the first time it went by, blinded as he was.
He addresses Paris, not quite meeting his eyes. "What did Lieutenant Torres mean by saying that Tuvok had betrayed her?"
Tuvok was a spy.
Well. That would explain Torres hating him.
He sure did lack context on a lot of this and regrets several of his life choices in retrospect.
He grimaces. "I fear I have made a great fool of myself. I shall have to apologize to Torres; I only hope I do not receive a visit from her second before I do so."
(He's vaguely settled on treating her as a male officer for such purposes, having no better model to work from.)
"I thank you for your timely intervention," he adds, with as much grace as he can muster.
From Lt. Carey? Why would he get a visit from him? For that matter, does Laurence even know Carey?
Anyway.
"No problemo."
Hmm, looks like Harry isn't coming back.
"You know any two-player games? I was hoping to get some navy stories out of you."
Perhaps some of this evening can be salvaged after all.
"I do." He proposes a modification of whist for two players, but adds "If there are other games you would prefer, I am willing to learn as well."
He can tell several entertaining anecdotes about, among other things, ensigns arguing over a large fish and Badger-Bag productions when crossing the equator.
Oh wait he meant, like, for a duel. That kind of second.
He's not going to interrupt the big fish story for that, since B'elanna isn't going to challenge him to a duel, and it doesn't seem like Laurence wants one at this point. He should make sure to mention that duels are not allowed though.
The big fish story comes to an end, without any convenient segue to bring up dueling. The next story doesn't really offer an opportunity either.
Wait. This is how Harry managed not to tell Laurence about aliens, isn't it.
At the end of the equator story, he interjects "By the way, I just realized what you meant earlier. You don't need to worry about B'elanna challenging you to a duel. Dueling is illegal, and, maybe more importantly, hasn't been socially accepted for centuries."
Hmm, well, do Klingons duel? Actually that seems like something they would do. But he doesn't think B'elanna would do that. Punch somebody, absolutely, but not duel.
This is arguably the "I'm not going to bring aliens up because it's awkward" thing again, but he has to be able to stop expositing at some point.
Laurence raises his eyebrows. "Illegal everywhere?"
Dueling was illegal in some places in his time, too, but not where Laurence is from. He dislikes the idea of not being able to answer severe insult.
"Well, in the federation. Actually I have no clue what the laws will be like next time we stop since we've never met anybody from around here."
"I see."
He clears his throat. "It seems galling, to me, to have no way to respond to insult. But I suppose you all must be used to it. ... In a way it might be more convenient. I had an ensign once who would not cease from challenging everyone in sight. I wonder what became of--"
"Well. Nothing became of him, I suppose."
The ensign, of course, was fictional. Like the rest of his life up until recently.
"Yeah."
He picks up a glass of wine and stares at it, annoyed.
"You know, for a conversation like that, it would be really nice if this were real alcohol. The Maquis have that right, at least."
It's kind of deflecting, but he has no clue what to say to that. Sorry your whole life is some holonovel?
"... real... alcohol?"
Boy, his life involves a lot of stupidly repeating other people's statements lately.
"Yeah, you can't actually get drunk off of stuff from the replicator. It uses some other chemical that tastes pretty much exactly like alcohol. 'Synthahol'."
He takes a huge swig of wine, as if to drown his sorrows over the fact that this wine will not drown his sorrows.
"Nope! Starfleet doesn't approve of getting drunk."
"So, how did you meet Captain Janeway? What role was she playing?"
Tom isn't quite sure about this line of inquiry, but figures if they're going to pretend to get drunk he should pretend to get drunk. And he's really curious.
"Role?"
"... oh. Yes. I suppose it was that."
"When I met her I was told her name was Lucy Davenport, a governess who had taken passage on my ship across the Atlantic."
He takes another pointless swig of wine.
"Huh. I guess it's not shocking that she wasn't a captain, since, you know, she can do that here. Not sure I would have expected a governess though..."
"Do you happen to know what the name of the holonovel was? I was entirely obsessed with the sea as a kid, read everything I could about naval adventures. I might have heard of it."
"Really! I was obsessed with the sea as a boy myself-- though perhaps moreso, since I ran away from home to join a ship's crew at twelve."
"As for the holonovel, I believe it was The Adventures of Captain William Laurence."
"I don't think I've heard of it."
Actually, it sort of rings a bell, but he definitely hasn't played it himself. Hmm...
"Ah, but you see, these days it's a lot harder to run away."
"I actually planned to join the naval patrol when after I graduated high school. But my dad wasn't having any of it."
He's a little shocked by this. "You would have run away, but your father... what, clapped you in irons?"
"Oh no, not at all."
"But, well, for one thing, the naval patrol only takes adults, which these days is defined as 18 year olds. So obviously a 12 year old couldn't pass. But even if I was, say, 15, they'd ask me for my name and they'd look me up in the computer and it would say 'Born 2347' and then they'd call my parents and ask them to pick me up."
"Good Lord." It's not as if Laurence thinks a boy of fifteen is a man, exactly, but to keep him from all freedom? All useful employment? "I cannot imagine for the life of me what I would have done were I forced to remain in my father's house until the age of eighteen."
"And what prevented you when you did reach that age?"
"Now that's where you've got me."
"I told myself that a Starfleet admiral could make my life difficult in the Naval Patrol. But really, I just wasn't up to standing up to him back then."
"Ah."
Whoops. He didn't really mean to call Tom out for rank cowardice, but it kinda seems like he did.
"So you joined Starfleet instead? ... And your father was an admiral?"
"I see."
Laurence knows what it's like having a father who is powerful and overbearing. He... can't really imagine what it's like to choose to knuckle under to him instead of making his own way. It makes him feel sorry for Tom, a little.
"Well. If you still want that Navy post, the pair of us could both imagine our way to sailing on the holodeck," he says, half-joking, half-bitter. He drinks.
Laurence nods, not fully trusting himself to speak. In truth, he has no desire to go on vacation in the graveyard of his former life. But perhaps something will change... or perhaps they could visit a different holonovel. One with no people in it that he needs to mourn.
He's quiet for a while.
After wrapping up their most recent hand of cards, Laurence bids Tom goodnight. "Thank you for coming. I hope the event may be repeated in the future, with much less disaster."
Halfway back to his quarters, he stops. He finally remembered where he'd heard of The Adventures of Captain Laurence before.
"The romance novel?!"
Laurence cleans up and goes to bed. He wakes up early again, and is grimly thankful for it. He has things to do.
At 0700 hours according to the computer, he calls Harry.
"Good morning, Ensign Kim." He doesn't sound particularly happy or good about it.
Harry did not follow the disaster with a pretend-drunk bonding session and isn't all that happy with Laurence right now. But if nothing else, helping Laurence out is one of his duties.
"Hey Laurence."
"I fear I must ask of you a favor."
"Please convey my apologies to Lieutenant Torres for my remarks last night. Paris apprised me of several misunderstandings which I held, and I greatly regret giving offense."
"I hope-- that is, I would like to ask a further favor, that you might convey these as soon as possible, so that she may not feel too great an imposition in having to conduct herself in my presence at boot camp this morning. I should not like to oblige her to any... awkwardness."
(Laurence assumes that Torres would rather not be in the same room with him at this time, and that orders forcing her to do so anyway would mean she will be obligated to studiously pretend he does not exist. He would rather avoid giving her such an obligation, even if she doesn't especially want to chat regardless.)
Well, okay, that helps. It's kind of weird for Laurence to be using him as a go-between, instead of just apologizing directly? Is that normal in the 18th century?
"I'll be sure to let her know." (he wants to add "thanks" but that's a bit weird since it's not an apology to him? whatever)
"You might want to tell her yourself if you run into her though."
What the fuck, obviously not
"I... would assume that it would cause greater offense for me to address her directly, in such a situation," he says slowly.
Tom said dueling was outlawed, but surely she would at least hit him or something if he tried to talk to her right now? She didn't seem like a coward.
It was a weird 18th century thing!
"I think people do things a little differently nowadays? I think a less direct apology comes off as less sincere since it implies you're not willing to deliver it face to face."
"But I can tell her anyway, and you can do what seems best next time you see her."
... really, though?
"I... see," he says. "Thank you for the advice. I will consider it."
He ends the call and heads to boot camp when it's time. He's trying to avoid both Tuvok and Torres, so... he'll do his best to arrive one minute early, giving him time to scope out a spot off to the side where he can easily avoid Torres when she comes in, but not so much time that Tuvok could strike up a conversation with him. He doesn't especially want to talk to the security chief right now.
Then he'll wait quietly until things get started.
B'elana walks in at exactly the starting time. She gives Laurence a brief glance before boot camp starts again.
B'elanna's feelings:
She's making minimal effort to hide any of that, but her facial expressions aren't really high bandwidth enough to convey 4 bullet points, so she winds up looking ... annoyed, basically.
Okay. Good enough. This seems like a situation where the fine art of Polite Ignoring will be helpful.
(Not Stiff Ignoring or Pointed Ignoring, those are different.)
The parameters of Polite Ignoring are: He will acknowledge her and/or engage in pleasantries if appropriate, and will endeavour to maintain a pleasant expression where possible, but will not engage her in conversation or go near her without a reason or her initiating it first.
Janeway just got off her bridge shift. She's sitting in her ready room, nursing a mug of coffee and catching up on paperwork, when the borders of her screen light up yellow. She sighs.
Janeway is halfway to the door by the time she gets that message. She strides onto the bridge, finishes her coffee, and sits down.
"Report, commander."
If the battle at the Caretaker array is anything to go by, one Kazon ship is not really a meaningful threat to Voyager.
She turns to the room at large "Anyone have an idea of what they're up to?"
If he was in a tiny ship on an interscept course with a federation starship, what would he be planning...
"Mr. Kim. Is there anywhere to hide nearby? Maybe they're trying to tie us down and have their buddies pop out of a nebula and ambush us."
He thinks a little longer. Suicide attack? But the Kazon don't really have a motive for that, and in any case it's not much more likely to work than a conventional attack.
Cloaked ambush? Conceivable, but there's been no evidence the Kazon have such technology.
Overconfidence? The Kazon withdrew after the Caretaker array was destroyed, with a significantly larger force.
"I've got no idea what they could be thinking, Captain. I don't like it."
The cautious move here would be to avoid them. Voyager is the fastest ship of a civalization that's at least 200 years ahead of the Kazon: it would be easy to do.
But if she does the cautious thing every time, she'll never get the ship home. Even if you ignore the agony of a 70 year voyage, they're unlikely to survive that long a trip through uncharted space with no support. She needs to take risks and hope for something to get them home faster: advanced warp technology, another member of the Caretaker's species, a wormhole, or something she hasn't thought of.
Admittedly, the Kazon don't seem very promising on the advanced technology front. But if they can establish friendly relations with the Kazon, it reduces the risk of travel through this part of space, and maybe they can ask around and get in touch with someone more advanced. And the risk here is pretty small: it only seems like a risk at all because the Kazon ship is acting like they know what they're doing. On the face of it, Voyager has them utterly outclassed.
"Let's see what they want."
This kind of hubris is how the Maquis managed to survive fighting the vastly more powerful Federation. But Janeway's made her decision, and it would be too damaging to the incredibly thin trust growing between the Maquis and Starfleet crew for him to challenge it.
"My apologies if our approach was alarming."
"While I understand you've come into conflict with the Kazon-Ogla, not all the sects are united against you. The Kazon-Pommar would be happy to discuss trade possibilities with you. Perhaps you'd value maps, or safe passage through our space?"
"Unfortunately, that's not something I can offer. Federation regulations don't permit me to trade away our technology like that."
Eugh, that's classic Federation, prioritizing rules over survival. Not that he thinks this was a good idea in the first place, but if they're going to do it they should actually do it.
"That is indeed unfortunate."
"However, perhaps there is still room for negotiation. We might be willing to settle for goods produced by your replicators. Spare parts, or even food or water."
She's still deeply suspicious. But this is consistent with the best case scenario, and this is exactly the sort of risk that might pay off with getting home.
"That might be acceptable, yes. Would you like to beam over to discuss it?"
"It refers to transporting you to our ship instantaneously by converting you to energy, then back to matter on our ship."
Humans developed transporters in the mid 22nd century, so that 200 years thing is looking bang on so far.
Really?
(There's pretty universal consensus among federation philosophers that transporters don't kill you. They have stated reasons, of course, but ultimately the real driving force is "god transporters are so convenient".)
"That's not how the Federation sees it, no. Would you prefer to take a shuttle over?"
Arrangements are made! Soon enough, the Kazon delegation is meeting with Janeway and Chakotay in the briefing room next to the bridge.
"... so while in principle, yes, self-sealing stem bolts are not a technological secret I'm compelled to keep from you, I expect that the difference in materials is sufficient that it would nevertheless -"
She's cut off by a combadge chirp.
Chakotay instantly trains his phaser on Jal Miran. He'd been waiting for something like this, but he still doesn't see it. They scanned the delegation for energy sources before they boarded, so they can't have guns. Voyager can simply raise shields and the shuttlecraft will be unable to dock.
"Shields up!"
Janeway is also covering the delegation with her phaser, now.
"What is this?"
Chakotay attempts to fire. But as he already half-expected when the he saw the knives, his phaser just makes a sad chirp instead of shooting the Kazon.
Harry is oblivious to the drama playing out in the next room.
"Captain, shields are down! Some sort of damping field!"
The kazon delegation is beamed up. Janeway has about a minute to decide if she wants to beam them back down somewhere before the pattern buffer decays.
"The Kazon have a dampening field up. Phasers, torpedos, shields, engines are all down. Forcefields are down. Transporter was up but we just lost it. It looks like it's affecting them as well, so at least they're not going to be able to just blow us up. But 3 more shuttles just landed in the shuttle bay. I can't reach anybody down there."
"The atmosphere in the shuttle bay is held in by forcefield when the shuttle bay doors are open, which they were. Anybody who was in the shuttle bay is dead."
Laurence freezes when he hears the klaxons and sees the flashing lights, then rolls to his feet out of the exercise he was doing and waits, tensely.
He's technically not a civilian anymore, but there's little he can do without much more information.
"We have boarders in the shuttle bay. They're using some sort of damping field. Phasers and transporters are offline. I need you to hold the ship."
"Janeway to Torez."
What are her priorities. Top priority is dealing with the boarders. Any of the disabled systems would suffice, actually. The transporter would be most effective, but phasers would let them take advantage of their numerical superiority, forcefields would let them isolate the boarders, and warp would let them escape the damping field and then use the transporters. So really warp would be best.
"I need my ship systems back. Priority order is warp drive, transporters, forcefields, then phasers, but speed is critical here, so focus on the fastest solution if one is significantly faster."
What are his priorities.
First, he must maintain control of the bridge and engineering. As long as they can keep control of both those sections of the ship long enough to for Lieutenant Torres to get some of the ship's systems back online, their victory is assured.
His secondary priority must be to protect the crew. Since the boarders are likely going to focus on gaining control of key ship systems (that is to say, the bridge and engineering), and since they won't have functional energy weapons, most likely the crew will be safe in their quarters.
He needs to get to his station on the bridge to coordinate this properly. But main engineering is extremely close to the shuttle bays: he needs to send security there right now.
Unsurprisingly, the class for former rebels is low on security.
"Ensign Laurence. Accompany Lieutenant Torres to main engineering. We must hold it against the boarders or the ship will be lost. I will send reinforcements as soon as I am able."
"Yes, sir." Pause. Another wretched question to ask, but his very life might depend upon it. "Phasers are-- off the line?"
It is a reflection of the state of the ship that Ensign Laurence, who was conjured from a historical holonovel and does not, for example, know what "offline" means, is still probably the 3rd* most useful person in this room.
"They are not functional. The Kazon have done something that prevents phasers and other ship systems from working."
*Tuvok does not like Lieutenant Torres. He thinks she is insubordinate, unprofessional, personally abrasive, and a mutiny risk. This does not cause him to underestimate her engineering prowess. She is the most useful person in this room, followed by himself.
Laurence may be ignorant, but he's not stupid. He glances around the room for a replicator and spots one by the door, then jogs over to Torres. He ducks his head slightly and asks, "Sir. Shall we replicate arms?"
"Let's be quick about it." she says, striding towards the replicator.
Along the way, she scans for anybody who might be useful.
"Seska! With me!"
God, should she replicate a bat'leth? She hasn't used one since her mom sent her to that monastery on Qo'noS. Still...
"You tell it what you want, let me specify the material. We should be able to do a bit better than you had back home."
How does he specify... oh, it should be able to figure this out, shouldn't it? "British sabre from the year 1804." And, to Torres: "Might it make a pistol? Or something similar but improved?"
To the computer:
"Make it out of tritanium."
That's probably not optimal but she hasn't studied sword materials and it's definitely going to be a step up over steel.
"Probably won't work, but we can try."
"Replicate, uhh, whatever is generally considered the best chemical projectile weapon. Authorization Torres zeta five."
B'elanna is barely more qualified than Laurence is since she's not a WW3 nerd but she at least knows how to delegate to the computer in a way it'll understand.
Maybe if this works she won't need to try and use a bat'leth.
A sword shimmers into existence.
"Projectile weapon replicator patterns are not available for safety reasons."
Ya know, if the Maquis had made the replicators they wouldn't have this nanny nonsense.
Fine. He might not be able to use whatever guns they have, anyway; it's not as though there's time for additional tutorials now.
He takes his sabre and nods to Lt. Torres.
Huh, the Klingon weapon. He supposes that makes sense. It's large and unwieldy, but perhaps she has the strength to treat it as he would a lighter weapon.
He grips his sabre in a ready stance and follows Torres and the other woman to main engineering.
The hallways are eerily empty despite the fact that there are enemies on board and, no doubt, battle raging somewhere else on the ship. He almost wouldn't believe that there were boarders at all, but the captain was very clear. It's just strange that the ship is so huge that a substantial boarding party can get lost in it.
He keeps his eyes moving and positions himself to be between the lieutenant and any unexpected threats.
They make it to engineering.
The door has been cut through, the edges of the hole glowing a dull red.
"Looks like they've gotten inside already" she whispers.
She hefts the bat'leth, a bit uncertainly. Maybe she'd be better off hitting them in the face? She's good at that.
Laurence carefully peers inside. There are two men(?) at different desks, doing something with the various screens in the room nearest the door. He can't see all the way back, though; there's a dark back room with some kind of glowing equipment that he doesn't recognize.
They have weapons in holsters at their sides, but they seem to need both hands to do whatever they're doing.
He whispers to Lt. Torres, "How far back does it go?" pointing to the back of the room. "Could there be more?"
"There are side rooms in the back left and right. Maybe somebody behind the warp core. Could be people upstairs."
That is way too many entry points and he hates it. Too bad. He wants to ask Torres which part of this room she needs to be in to do her work, but there are only two of the enemy and time is of the essence. They need to clear this room as fast as possible. And both his compatriots seem hesitant to engage.
He makes eye contact with Torres and the other officer. Gestures at them, then the Kazon on the right hand side. Then he gestures at himself, and the Kazon on the left.
Then, still gripping his sabre tightly, he creeps through the fiery doorway.
The enemy on the left is close to the door; it doesn't take long for Laurence to get to him. The Kazon manages to turn around and spot Laurence before the sabre flashes out and drops him to the ground, but nothing else, not even a cry.
He flicks his eyes over to the others.
B'elanna runs up to the other Kazon. Maybe her footsteps are louder, or maybe the other Kazon is more attentive, but he spins around with a yell and draws a sword of his own.
Her technique is awful. She telegraphs her bat'leth swing seconds out, and the Kazon is easily able to get into position to block it. This doesn't actually matter, though: B'elanna smashes right through the block with sheer force and kills him anyway.
... Huh. Klingons are scary, aren't they.
Laurence stands up from his kill and peers around the room, scanning for the side rooms and for anyone upstairs. His search also turns up nothing. He turns to the lieutenant, still on guard and watching the door they came through. "Are there other points of egress?"
B'elanna is furiously operating various consoles. It takes her about 2 seconds to process Laurence's question.
"The two doors adjacent to where we came in are the turbolift and the Jeffries tube access. Both are theoretically access points. Jeffries tube seems more likely than them hacking a turbolift."
"Seska, I need you to try and lock down the dampening field frequency modulation pattern. If we can get one step ahead of them we can maybe get our systems back."
Laurence glances around at the entrance to the Jefferies tube, and at the rest of engineering -- sadly bereft of convenient planks or crowbars. He has the impulse to ask more questions, quickly quashed with the urgency of the moment. He thinks for a moment, examines the entrance to the Jeffries tube further, glances around, finds a replicator.
"One tritanium rod," he names his guess at some dimensions. "... And a circular mirror. Three inches in diameter."
He jams the tritanium rod in the door to the Jefferies tube, then takes up station by the gaping hole in the door they came through, using his mirror to scan the hallways.
In the mirror to his left, Laurence can see a large group of Kazon stop at the intersection.
"So which way to the bridge?"
"Forward and up, I think, but we're locked out of the elevators."
"There have to be ladders somewhere... you four go look for them.The rest of you come with me. We'll go check on Loran: he hasn't reported in since he got to engineering."
About 5 of them start making their way towards engineering, brandishing swords.
He flicks his eyes over at Seska consideringly-- she's still doing something with consoles-- then says "No, sir."
Tries to rush in, rather. Laurence cuts him down before he can cross the threshold.
The remaining Kazon are a bit more cautious and coordinated, but it's pretty hard for 4 people to rush through the hole they've cut in the doors: it's just not big enough. They try climbing through one at a time while the others jab threateningly through the hole in Laurence's direction.
Laurence has fought better men than this in harsher conditions with worse weaponry. It takes some finesse to get them all as they dodge in and out of the hole, but it's finesse he has.
Well. He can't do anything about that at the moment.
He glances over to see how Torres and her colleague are doing.
"No, no, you just need to- actually here, let me show you..."
There's no particular indication of how well things are going.
About 10 minutes later, the Jeffries tube hatch rattles, opening slightly before catching on the bar holding it shut.
Laurence hears the rattling and creeps over, carefully angles his saber, and stabs hard through the crack at the Kazon inside the hatch.
There's a yelp, footsteps, then silence.
About 5 minutes later, the hatch is cracked open again, and an bluish-white flame about 6 inches long shoots out, eating away at the bar holding the hatch closed.
After about a minute of this, the bar gives way.
Three kazon push their way in, more or less at once.
Laurence shoves back at them with his sabre, but he can't stop the press of that many bodies.
"They're here!" he shouts to the others, slashing at the first Kazon to get past him, hoping that at least one of the other officers can be spared to help hold them off.
"Seska, go!"
She spares a glance over her shoulder.
"I need about 30 more seconds..."
Seska is not really trained for this!
She runs over and vaguely menaces the Kazon with her knife.
Having successfully shoved their way in, the three Kazon prioritize. Two see if they can kill Laurence. The other one to (easily, presumably?) kill Seska.
Laurence stabs the first Kazon attacking him and leaps past the second one to cut down the Kazon attacking Seska. He manages to get that one as well, but--
Actually, upon reflection, maybe "I need about 30 more seconds" indicates something important.
While Laurence is distracted, the last Kazon rushes B'elanna. She's entirely focused on her console and has not obviously even noticed this.
As soon as he notices, Laurence catapults himself over a console and grabs the one going for Torres, trying to grapple him and force him to the ground.
Nope, not so easily grappled. He stumbles but wiggles out of it, and lunges at B'elanna with his sword.
And Laurence jumps directly in front of the blade, slashing at the Kazon's face and chest as he does so.
The Kazon has to take a second to dodge the slashes (it's hard to effectively slash at someone and dive in front of a blade at the same time), and another couple seconds to kick Laurence off of his sword.
Ok now he can get back to killing B'elanna.
Oh no what happened to Laurence, that looks really bad!
Why did he jump on a sword, surely there was a better option than jumping on a sword.
Her mom would be really impressed though
Finding himself suddenly elsewhere, Laurence tries to roll out of the sickbay bed and leap back into action. "Torres! Engineering!"
"No, that's not it."
He presses Laurence back into the bed, talking to himself.
"Deep puncture wound in the upper abdomen. Looks like it was caused by... a sword?"
He notices Laurence's sword.
"Why do you have a sword?"
"All officers need a sword. Regulations," he says vaguely. After a moment he thinks to fumble with his com badge. "Lieutenant Torres! Are you all right?"
"We beamed up the Kazon once I got the transporters back online. Everything's fine down here."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm..." he starts to say, holding his hand over the bleeding stab wound in his gut, and then, sensing that the word "fine" will not go over well here, changes tack. "What about the rest of the ship? The boarders?"
"He's going to be fine, Lieutenant."
He starts waving a gizmo over Laurence's stab wound, which stops bleeding immediately, and starts sealing up slowly but visibly.
Oh good. He doesn't seem to be following very well, she just told him they beamed up the Kazon, but he did get stabbed quite a bit. She'll try smaller words.
"The boarders are gone, Laurence."
"All of them?"
He looks down at his rapidly-sealing stab wound and then back up at the doctor. "Wh... Did you..."
Then he realizes that the wound he took probably would have been fatal back in his own time. His own fictional reality. Whatever.
"Lord in Heaven. Thank you."
He watches his stab wound magically heal with fascination.
"Shall I return to my post, then? Er. I imagine there is more work to be done, even with the boarders gone."
"No, no, you need to stay here for a while. I've stopped the bleeding and your skin is mostly regenerated but it'll take about half an hour for the underlying tissue to be healed."
"I see."
He settles himself back into the bed. Glances around the room. Nothing is at all familiar to him, compared to the surgeon's instruments he's seen before; of course, he's seen evidence a few times now that this version is far superior.
He watches the doctor fiddle with his gizmos for a moment, then asks, "How long have you been working as a ship's surgeon?"
"You seem to be laboring under a misapprehension. The ship's doctor is dead. I am the Emergency Medical Hologram, designed to provide medical care in case of an emergency."
"Hologram?" he repeats. "Some manner of... assistant to a doctor, then? I assure you, I have been treated by men far less qualified."
"Considering how many times I have been treated by men whose main qualification was their profession as a barber, I would agree."
"I'm not programmed with knowledge of 19th century medical practice. Were they treating your hair?"
"No. It was considered that their knowledge of handling a blade in proximity to human flesh rendered them adequate substitutes when no other was available, for tasks such as amputation or cutting out musket-balls."
"I suppose I shall use that knowledge to console myself with when lamenting the unsuitability of my new nurse, Mr. Paris. It could be worse."
"Lieutenant Paris is your nurse?" He's not concerned about his suitability-- Laurence has certainly had worse nurses. Just slightly surprised that the lieutenant would willingly take on such a role.
Laurence was not the only person who needed medical treatment after the attack, just the only one who required emergency medical transport.
Tuvok walks in, supporting another member of the security team. Tuvok has a gash across his forehead, which is bleeding quite a bit.
(The blood is green, of course)
The doctor abandons his gizmos and walks over.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."
"I myself have a minor head wound, although I do not believe it constitutes a medical emergency."
He does so.
"I was not able to closely monitor the situation in engineering, as the fighting to defend the bridge was quite intense. I understand there was heavy fighting there as well?"
Lieutenant Torres's exact words were "Oh yeah we're fine, no thanks to your 'reenforcements'. Laurence jumped on a sword and I almost got cut in half though."
Laurence's idea of "heavy fighting" tends to involve more cannonfire, but he did in fact fend off quite a number of Kazon. "A good half-dozen men assaulted engineering, but we held them off until Lieutenant Torres was able to restore transport."
That's really bad, actually.
It's really bad because it means that, from Tuvok's perspective, the ship would have been lost if they hadn't gotten lucky. It would be one thing if he'd predicted that Ensign Laurence could hold off 6 Kazon by himself and assigned him accordingly, but instead what happened is that almost the entire security team was needed to prevent the bridge from falling. They had a numerical advantage, but not much of one, and his men were ill suited to melee combat. So he'd played to his outs and assumed Engineering would be left alone.
"Commendable."
Laurence didn't really think he had done anything *that* exceptional, but somehow the nod still stings a little.
He also doesn't say anything. Of course.
Along the way she spares a glance at Laurence.
"Glad to see you're in one piece, Ensign."
???
Is the doctor secretly a Vulcan or something. He's just not going to say anything for now.
"Anyway. Tuvok, we need to discuss how the Kazon got their hands on that dampening field generator. I highly doubt it was something they developed themselves."
Tuvok has a (holo)doctor's hands and gizmos all up in his face but will gamely discuss this nonetheless.
"Indeed, captain. I found myself quite caught off-guard for-"
"Oh not this again. This is a medical bay, not a conference room, and this man is my patient. Whatever it is, I'm sure it can-"
He startles involuntarily. It's one thing to be transported yourself but quite another to see someone else vanish into thin air.
"Captain?" he asks hesitantly. "Er. Was the doctor... needed elsewhere?"
It sounded more like a summary dismissal, but he's trying not to be too incredibly rude.
She looks a bit surprised to be questioned on this.
"He wasn't needed anywhere, at the moment. Your injuries were superficial, right Tuvok?"
"Not needed anywhere? Then..." She almost makes it sound as though she killed the man, but surely that can't be. His face betrays some shock anyway.
Janeway might notice that if she was paying much attention. But right now she's more focused on how if the Kazon had been a little better prepared (for example, if they'd brought chemical projectile weapons), or if Voyager had gotten a little bit less lucky, they would have lost the ship.
"Anyway. Tuvok. You were saying?"
Tuvok has spent a very long time interacting with humans, and has honed his ability to interpret their emotional states. He's very skilled at it.
For a Vulcan.
"As I was saying, I was caught off guard by this attack. This dampening field is not like anything I've seen before, and I agree that the Kazon could not have developed it. They must have some source of advanced technology."
"Agreed. We need to learn more about this mysterious source of theirs. As we've seen today, it's obviously a threat, but it could also be an opportunity."
"We're going to need some form of help if we're going to make it home in less than 70 years. If there are aliens out there with advanced technology who are willing to share, they might be our ticket back."
Laurence finds his voice after this exchange and finally breaks into the conversation.
"Captain. I beg your pardon for my general ignorance, but as I feel myself indebted to him, I find I must ask again. Where is the doctor?"
"Our real doctor was killed: you were treated by the emergency backup hologram. I turned him off: presumably Tuvok will turn him back on when we're done here."
He feels relief that the man isn't gone forever. And yet--
"Hologram." "Holodeck." The connection seems obvious now. A "medical hologram" is not a job title, nor even a species. It's a description of a lesser being.
Turned him off? he wants to say. But he spoke to me. He healed me.
But it's clear those things don't matter to Janeway.
In point of fact, she had been planning to do the same to Laurence, as soon as she was done with his holonovel.
(Of course, that's different, he thinks. He wasn't a *real* person before, the way the doctor-- medical hologram-- obviously is now. Ensign Kim explained it to him.)
"It must be convenient having a subordinate one can remove from existence at will," he bites out unthinkingly. "I am amazed Starfleet does not make it a standard condition of service."
"That said, I can understand the concern. I imagine it's easy to see yourself in the EMH."
"But the doctor is ultimately just a program. The computer receives inputs, performs calculations based on them, and manipulates the image it projects. It's a very complicated program, and I can see why you'd think it's alive, but turning the doctor off is more akin to closing a book than ... whatever atrocity you're imagining I just committed."
