Disclaimer:  Everything in this story belongs to Paramount except for the character of 
Jayia.  Copyright 1997 by JoAnna Walsvik.
Author's Note:  Please feel free to send your comments to me at 
jowalsvi@sendit.sendit.nodak.edu.  Nourish the Feedback Monster! (second cousin of 
Cookie Monster! ;-) 
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Summary: The story of how B'Elanna Torres met Chakotay and joined the Maquis, told 
from B'Elanna's POV.
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B'Elanna's Story (pre-Voy, Torres, PG)
by JoAnna Walsvik
     I've never had what you could call a normal life.  Normal has no meaning when 
you're half-Klingon.
     I was born on a remote, mostly-human colony on a planet called Kessik IV.  That 
place was the armpit of the galaxy.  The only ships that ever came by were the 
occasional supply ships and, very infrequently, a passing transport ship. 
     On Kessik, you had one choice in life: you grew up, you got married, and you had 
children who grew up, got married, and had children who repeated the cycle over and 
over again.  Ambition was frowned upon.  The general rule on Kessik was: If you're 
born here, you won't amount to anything.
     I didn't believe that.
     I believed I *could* amount to something.  I wanted to explore the galaxy, have 
adventures, make a difference.  I didn't want to grow up to be a stogdy old housewife 
whose main purpose in life was to bear children.  I wanted something more.
     I was already very unpopular on Kessik for two reasons: one, I was half-Klingon at 
a time when Klingons were considered untrustworthy and bizarre, and two, my father 
had walked out on my mother and I when I was five.  Kessik was the kind of place that 
fully believed in punishing the child for the parent's sins--and vice versa.
     My ambitiousness didn't help matters.  Well, what was I supposed to do?  Find a 
nice boy and settle down?  There wasn't a nice boy I could settle down *with*.  All 
mothers warned their sons to keep away from the over-sexed, temperamental Klingon 
girl.
     Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.  On my eighteenth birthday, I managed to hitch 
a ride on a supply ship bound for Earth.  I had already been accepted to Starfleet 
Academy, and I was on my way.
     So, I left Kessik IV.  And, to this very day, I've never been back.  Soon after I left, 
my mother went to live on the Klingon homeworld.  I guess she just couldn't live 
anymore with the stigma of my departure.
     I tried to fit in at the Academy, I really did.  But I wasn't used to taking orders.  
All my life I had been a rebellious, independent Klingon.  No one had ever taught me to 
control my temper.  It didn't help that all my professors seemed to be arrogant, 
pompous jerks.  I later discovered they had been testing me, to see if I could take it.
     I couldn't.
     A year later, only a few weeks after my nineteenth birthday, I dropped out of the 
Academy--and I've never been back.
     I spent the next year or so hitching rides on transport ships, just traveling across 
the galaxy.  In exchange for passage, I'd fix replicators, conduits, anything that needed 
repairing.  That was one good thing about going the Academy--I had discovered that I 
had a talnet for engineering.  I was never happier then when I was in front of a 
console with a problem to solve--and I could solve almost every problem set before 
me.  That made me invaluable to the captains of rickety transport or supply ships, so I 
had no difficulty finding passage to just about anywhere.
     All I was searching for was a place to fit in.  And one day, my life completely 
changed.
     A transport I was on had stopped at a seedy bar on an outpost near the Cardassian 
border.  As I sat at the bar, aimlessly sipping a drink, I wished I could leave.  The 
place was a cross between a Ferengi dabo club and a Nausicaan whorehouse.
     The only thing that caught my attention was a man down at the end of the bar, 
nursing a drink with an expression like my own.  I don't know what made me so 
interested in him--he was just a human.  Dark hair and eyes, with a strange tattoo 
over his left eye.  Nothing overly special, yet--there was something that I couldn't 
put my finger on.
     He seemed to notice me, too.  He kept staring at me, but whenever I turned my 
head, to try and catch him in the act, his head was always down and he was staring at 
his drink.  I could never catch him staring, but he was.  At the time, I thought it was 
my ridged forehead.  A full-blooded human or Klingon never attracted attention, but a 
half-breed was always an oddity.
     Just then, a half-clothed, bruised and bleeding young Bajoran girl rushed inside the 
bar.  Both the man and I jumped up, but I was the first to reach her.
     "What's wrong?"  I asked. 
     Before she could reply, a tall, ugly-looking Cardassian stormed through the door.  
"Come back here!" he was shouting.
     I shoved the girl, who was trembling in terror, behind me and confronted the 
Cardassian.  "I believe you have something that belongs to me," he sneered, trying to 
reach behind me to grab the girl.
     I wouldn't let him.  I knew what this was about.  Cardassians liked to kidnap girls 
from their homes and villages, then use them as personal slaves.  The whole business 
made me sick, but then again, so did all Cardassians.
     "She's mine, now."  The Cardassian's eyes narrowed at my firm retort, and he began 
to reach for the disruptor in his pocket.
     Before he knew what was happening, my leg had kicked out and caught him in the 
chest.  A half-Klingon's kick is a very powerful blow, and he went down, moaning. I 
reached down and grabbed him by his collar.  
     "Leave," I ordered in my best Klingon warrior voice.   "Or I'll make sure you won't 
make it back to Cardassia alive."   I reached into my pocket, and shoved a bunch of 
latinum slips into his hand.  "For the girl.  Consider it a payment."
     The Cardassian glared at me as he stood up, his dignity more hurt then his chest.  I 
could have crushed his breastbone, if I had wanted to, but instead I had merely 
knocked the wind out of him.  "She's yours, Klingon."  Without further ado, he left the 
bar, the latinum slips in his hand.
     "Oh, thank you," the girl behind me whispered.  "I don't know how I can ever repay 
you."
     "Don't worry about it," I replied.  "What's your name? Where's your home?"
     "My name is Jayia.  I lived on Bajor, with my mother," she said, her eyes filling up 
with tears.  Oh, great.  An emotional one.  "But then he--he took me."
     I thought fast and hard.  The transport I was on wasn't going anywhere near Bajor, 
and I didn't know of any other ships in the area that were, either.  Just then, someone 
tapped me on the shoulder.
     "Excuse me."  It was the man at the bar, the one with the strange tattoo on his face 
that had been watching me.  "I couldn't help but overhear--I'll be going to Bajor soon.  
I'd be happy to accompany the young lady."
     "Oh, could you, sir?"  Jayia breathed.  "I'd be so grateful."
     "No problem," the man said easily.  "Glad to help such a beautiful young lady."  I had 
to admit, he was smooth.  He surprised me even further when he handed the girl a few 
latinum slips and said, "Go and get yourself some decent clothes.  Meet me back here 
in an hour, okay?"
     "Thank you, sir," Jayia said gratefully, looking at him with big brown eyes filled 
with hero worship.  "I will, I promise."  Then she turned to me.  "Thank you again, 
um...."
     "B'Elanna," I answered.  "B'Elanna Torres."
     "Thank you, B'Elanna," she said, then dashed off, the latinum strips the man had 
given her clutched tightly in her hands.   I guess after living in rags for so long, the 
prospect of new clothes was too good to be true.
     I turned to the man, to thank him for showing such kindness to Jayia, and he stuck 
out his hand.  "I'm Chakotay.  It's nice to meet you."
     "B'Elanna Torres."  I shook his hand.
     "I know," he said with a grin.  "I heard.  That was a brave thing you did.  Not many 
have the courage to stand up to a Cardassian."
     "Cardassians are wimps.  Threaten them with a little violence and they'll leave you 
alone."
     Chakotay laughed, smiling at me.  I felt kind of embarrassed, yet pleased at the 
same time.  No one had ever taken time to be nice to me ever since I left the Academy.  
The Klingon blood in me tended to intimidate people and, going from ship to ship, I 
never really had time to make friends.  "So, you're Klingon?"
     "Half-Klingon," I replied.  Usually I was annoyed when people would question me 
about my species, but this Chakotay had such a winning grin I didn't feel irritated at 
all.  "My father was human."
     "I see.  Look, could I talk to you?  Privately?"  The question was posed casually, 
but I detected a hidden agenda beneath Chakotay's easygoing demeanor.
     "I guess," I said cautiously.  "Where at?"
     "Why don't we just go outside," he suggested.  I walked with him to the bar's exit.  
Strangely enough, I felt at ease with him, like I had known him my whole life.  
Usually, when I exchanged more then two words with a stranger, the inside of me was 
screaming to beware.  This time, I felt comfortable and secure.  It was a strange 
feeling, but one I could get used to.
     We walked in silence for a while, and then Chakotay said, very indifferently, "Have 
you ever heard of a group called the Maquis?"
     The Maquis.  They were a resistance group against the Cardassian-Federation 
treaty that had given Federation lands and colonies to the Cardassians.  A group of 
angry colonists had formed the group and recruited just about everyone who either 
didn't like the treaty or who just wanted a fight.  Starfleet officers resigned their 
commissions to join the battle; Bajorans, Vulcans, members of almost every race 
joined the fight.  They had started out small, but were growing to a point where they 
were a major problem to the Federation.  "I've heard of them," I said carefully.  "Why?"
     "I'm a recruiter for the Maquis,"  Chakotay said, avoiding my eyes and sounding just 
as careless as you please.  "You look like someone who'd be interested in joining.  Are 
you?"
     "Am I what?"  I was deliberately stringing him along, and he knew it.
     "Interested in joining the Maquis.  You're a good fighter, and you're not afraid of 
Cardassians.  Those are two qualities we need.  Do you have any more?  Can you pilot a 
ship or heal wounds?"
     "Actually, I'm an engineer."
     "An engineer?"  He actually seemed to get excited at this.  "We really need 
engineers.  Are you any good?"
     This question would have sounded insulting from anyone else, but from Chakotay it 
was merely an inquiry of my skills.  "I think so, yes.  If I hadn't been kicked out of 
Starfleet Academy I might have made chief engineer on a starship."
     At this I saw a smile quirk on Chakotay's face.  "Kicked out of the Academy, huh?  I 
resigned, myself.  Actually made Lieutenant Commander before that damned 
Federation treaty handed over my home to those bloody Cardassians."
     "You were in Starfleet?"  Somehow, it wasn't hard to believe.  He seemed the type 
that would have been a damn good officer--full of leadership.
     "Yeah.  Not anymore, though.  Now, I'm an outlaw. They want my head."  He was 
grinning, and he threw a sideways glance towards me.  "So, what do you think?  Do you 
want to give it a try?  I can't lie to you; it's not an easy life.  We never have enough 
supplies, our ships are secondhand and constantly breaking down, and you could be 
killed or sent to a Federation Penal Colony if you're caught.  I had that happen to one 
of my best pilots just a month ago.  He'd only been with us a few weeks."  He scowled 
at this, but soon resumed his cheeful demeanor.
     "I'm not afraid of getting caught.  My life isn't a bed of roses right now, and the 
Maquis can't be much worse.  I'd be glad to join."   I didn't feel as confident as I 
sounded, but, somehow, I knew I was making the right choice.
     "Great!"  Chakotay's eyes lit up and he smiled at me.  "Welcome aboard, B'Elanna 
Torres."  He shook my hand, and I shook his.  That seemed to seal the bargain, for we 
headed back to the bar and picked up Jayia.   A few hours later we were on our way to 
Bajor.
     After delivering Jayia to her mother, and witnessing a joyful reunion that would 
have melted the heart of the fiercest Klingon warrior, Chakotay delivered me to a 
nearby Maquis base and introduced me to everyone.
     In just a few weeks, I knew I had found somewhere to fit in.  The Maquis became 
like a family to me.  Chakotay introduced me to a Bajoran named Seska, apparently 
someone *very* special to him, and she became my best friend--something I'd never 
had before.  No one was as shocked as me, except for Chakotay, when we later learned 
she was a Cardassian spy.  
     But that's another story.
THE END