Z.A. Mackic

“Good morning, Seven,” Captain Janeway greeted. “Good morning, Captain.” “How are the repairs to our guest ship coming along? She mentioned that there’s a part that is burned out.” “Yes. The part has suffered irreparable damage. I cannot reconstruct it. The only solution is to fabricate a replacement with a similar function but to do that, I’ll need to understand the intricacies of her engines.” The captain nodded, offering a reassuring smile. “Take the time you require.” “Captain?” “Take as much time as necessary, Seven, but ensure you fulfill your other responsibilities as well,” Janeway advised. *** She trotted effortlessly behind Tuvok, finding the whole training ordeal rather juvenile, akin to a child’s version of playing tough. For someone molded to be a full-fledged Bene Gesserit sister, this running in circles and scuttling through maintenance corridors was child’s play. Tuvok shot a glance her way. “This way,” he instructed, leading her into a network of cramped maintenance co

Alathea crinkled her nose, eyeing Neelix’s questionable concoction. “That smells disgusting.” “It tastes even worse, my dear,” Neelix replied with a wide grin, “but better safe than sorry!” “Why? Why are you drinking that?” she asked, waving towards the thick, foul-smelling liquid. “Ah, well, you see, Chakotay believes my unique charm and dumpster diving skills make me the perfect ambassador. I’m off to board the Malon export vessel and sprinkle a dash of hospitality among the toxic fumes.” “The same Malon that were attacking Voyager?” “Yes, but we have to help now.” “Helping the enemy?” Alathea shook her head and left before Neelix could add anything. The captain outdid herself. Now she was helping not only strangers but also a proven enemy. And just when she thought that the Captain finally started behaving as she should. She left Think Tank to face consequences, but now, suddenly, she was helping an enemy that attacked Voyager and almost killed the whole crew. Diplomacy on this ship

As Alathea pondered the mysterious inner workings of the Holtzman drive, she couldn’t help but draw parallels between the advanced technology of Voyager and the familiar, albeit more primitive, components of her Empire. She reached for her toolkit, a collection of tools scavenged from various worlds, and started examining the burnt surge protector. “Easy peasy,” she muttered to herself, her fingers delicately probing the charred remnants. “In the Empire, we’d call this a ‘fried circuit,’ and I’d simply order a new one. Now, I have to improvise.” Her eyes scanned the tools at her disposal, contemplating the best way to create a makeshift surge protector. She chuckled at the thought of explaining the Holtzman drive components to her fellow Bene Gesserit. It was like trying to describe the taste of spice to someone who had never encountered it. The trouble was, she was that dumb Bene Gesserit. No one ever told her how the Holtzman drive functions. This time, it seemed she’d have to seek h