Title: Guerdon.
Part: VIII. You Can Sometimes Go Home. In more ways than one.
Author: D'Alaire M.
VIII. You Can Sometimes Go Home
Out of his seat two seconds after cutting the comm, Tom nodded to Savan on the way out.
As the ship powered down, system-by-system, he made his way aft, into the engine room, down to deck two and in and out of the tool closet within three minutes. When he turned, they came out of warp. Jogging easily back to the central power relay, he found Ridge securing the pulleys and B'Elanna plucking out parts. Just another EPS switch, he knew and set down his tools. Slipping in beside Ridge, he reached in to help balance and shift the assembly when the time was right.
Her eyes on her tricorder and her panel in turns, B'Elanna rerouted main power into a temporary generator to keep their essential systems online; then she gave a Ridge a nod. "Do it."
Ridge huffed a few breaths, gave a Tom a look, then the two men heaved the unit from its dock and swung it precariously around. Loosening the pulleys, they tipped it forward and rolled it onto a waiting cart, on which it would be repaired. Shaking out their arms, catching their breath, they then moved to get the other unit strapped in.
They'd been trading out EPS distributor units for two weeks by then, almost every other day, that in-between the numerous consequences of a twitchy electro plasma system forced to work on almost compatible parts and a warp drive doing much the same. The ODN was in better shape at that point, and it still needed a full rebuild, as well. But Tom was trying not to think about that.
"Remind me why I didn't look harder for an anti-grav at DS-Nine?" Tom quipped as he squatted to get a better grip on the cross-pylon.
"Aside from the fact we're broke?" Ridge returned, pulling with all his strength on the straps.
Tom turned the unit around. "Yeah. Forget that part."
"Well...still good for the soul," Ridge grunted as he pulled the unit over the locking plate, then finally began to lower it.
"If that were true, you'd be gods by now," B'Elanna replied, watching and waiting with her laser wrench nestled between her tightly crossed arms as Ridge's brute determination as well as strength got the piece gently into its dock with Tom's guidance.
They had done it twelve times by then, and the job still left them panting and sweating and B'Elanna feeling a little useless as she waited for her turn. She could help a great deal with that lifting, especially with the pulley system she and Nadrev had set up. But Ridge asked--then begged--her to stick to what they needed her to do. He was frightened for her fingers and was paranoid after her many visits to Savan's lab. Moreover, because of the distributor's position and the angle it had to come out at, the pulley system was dangerous; one slip could take out the whole assembly. After several futile arguments with the frustratingly cheerful man, B'Elanna decided to simply wait until he was somewhere else to do her share.
"Can I be the god of levitation?" Tom said with mock enthusiasm. He reached down and snapped the docking plate back up while still helping steady the coupling with his other hand.
"The god of the parts depot would be more useful," she returned and knelt down next to him to access the controls.
With a snort at her return, Tom held on with Ridge until B'Elanna had fully secured the unit and confirmed it was working again to her satisfaction. A flicker of a grin crossed her lips. With a few taps, main power was taken off the generator and the distributor came back online.
Letting go, Tom briskly rubbed his hands together and nodded. "All clear?" Her glance was all the answer he needed. He strode over to the comm and tapped in to the bridge. "Savan, take us back to warp seven-point-five. I'll be up in a while. Let me know if you need me." Bouncing on his heels a couple times, checking the room with his eyes, he nodded again. "Okay. I'll go check on Nadrev. See you later."
With that, he disappeared.
B'Elanna glanced up again, shaking her head. "I sometimes don't know which one's worse."
Ridge chuckled. "He's fine, just a little frisky."
"He's making me nervous."
"You just can't handle change, B'Elanna."
B'Elanna frowned, digging into the control pad to check one last output. "That too, I guess."
"Nothing weird about it," Ridge shrugged and sat back on his heels to watch her finish, rubbing his big biceps with his opposite hands. "What's up next?"
"We have our landing clearance."
"Docking coordinates pending."
"Yeah." Tom bounced his leg on his knee as he tapped through the usual numbers. Looking over at the other panel, he saw that B'Elanna had already locked down the warp core--gladly, probably, as she'd been largely under it since a week after they left Sicira. When she wasn't, she was buried in main power, switching out coupling units. Though it'd be a working holiday, even she would probably appreciate the break during their ten-day layover at Ulinas. "Maryl, patch in to the Fidlor Group and tell them we're here."
"I'll be more than happy to announce the obvious," she replied, rolling her eyes, "if I get to accept the credit."
"No problem. B'Elanna needs someone to scrub the coils after this run. I'll let her know you're angling for the job."
"Asshole."
"Who loves to waste your time for you," he smirked. "Just send them a message, Maryl, in case we need to reconfirm our dock. I don't want some idiot telling us we don't belong there."
That put the Bajoran to work.
Putting both feet on the floor, he tried to stop bouncing his leg--then he wondered why he bothered trying. He could feel the hypospray Savan had given him bouncing in his coat pocket. He was still taking them regularly. They did nothing to stop the nervousness, though. Giving up for the mean time, he dug into some environmental stats. They'd be docking at the main station that time, courtesy of their contractors. Though not the very best one could have at Ulinas, the central docks were still first-class accommodations Tom did not take for granted. The Guerdon would look like an old buzzard in a field of swans, but it wasn't difficult to not give a damn.
They'd gotten lucky all around, it seemed. The run to Deep Space Nine passed without delay or distraction. They all expected a call from Captain Chakotay, but did not receive one. (Tom and Maryl confirmed the man had not been arrested.) The hold inspection and subsequent materials pickup went smoothly, and their one-point-seven sector jump remained both fast and, again, uninterrupted. Everyone but Maryl raced around the various parts of the engine room to help stave off computer and engine failures en route. With stops only a few minutes long at a time to change out the EPS distributors, they managed to get to Ulinas from Deep Space Nine in just under twenty days--but at a price, as their engineer predictably noted that morning over breakfast.
"Unfortunately, this unofficial speed run's already burnt out half the replacement parts the people from the Berlin helped us to," B'Elanna stated sourly as she tapped on her PADD. "We're trading out the units every other day, and now the warp drive is showing stress again. The subspace generator is also going to need refitting. The switches aren't doing the other systems any favors, either. The ODN will start to malfunction again with that much fluctuation."
"We all knew the Berlin's parts would be the first to burn out," Tom said.
"I'd just hoped they could last until we got back to Minjau," B'Elanna admitted.
"Between the Fidlor deal and our Maquis obligation," Maryl told her, "we won't be going that way for another few months--and that just to run the Hidirin supply line."
The engineer frowned, pausing to think. "What are supplies like on Ulinas? Anything we can use?"
Tom nodded in mid-sip of his coffee. Swallowing, he said, "I know some vendors who have a building or two of old parts they sell at a colony rate. They can usually supply for our systems; we've dealt with them a couple times before. They all have stock in different floating scrap yards, leftovers from the border wars, among others. Pretty good deals as long as you don't mind rebuilding everything you get."
B'Elanna gave him a look.
Tom grinned at it. "If it's not a perfect fit, it'll at least be better than what we have."
"Give me the contact information when you can."
"I'll take you over," Tom offered. "It's been a while since I've been out in the northern province, and they prefer you show up in person to deal with them."
"Mainly 'cause they've got nothing else to do," Ridge snorted, then looked at B'Elanna. "Tom's right about going there, though. Jetad's full of Humans, most of them Traditionalists who still like Federation convenience. Nice country, too. Good food."
Maryl smirked. "Great shellfish."
"Nah, just decent. Not enough brine for me. Best corn chowder I've tasted, though."
"Sure that was corn?" Tom queried.
"You think I don't know corn when I see it?" Ridge scoffed.
Maryl rolled her eyes. "Like you grew up in Andiarna."
"Indiana," Tom corrected.
"Isn't that what I said? --That is the corn province, right?"
Ridge chuckled.
B'Elanna was not distracted from her PADD, though the corner of her mouth twisted downwards at the captain's suggestion. She never had warmed up to running parts with him; his perpetually restless state of late made the idea even less appealing. Then again, he did know how to get in with dealers when he wanted to, so it might be worth it. "We'll need to reengage the secondary power coupling before we land."
Nadrev sighed. "We just rebuilt the primary unit yesterday."
"And we'll have to keep doing that until we get or build replacements that are worth keeping in there. I don't want to have a blackout during landing procedure."
"Your gods stand at the ready," Tom grinned then ticked off the last few items on his schedule.
Several hours later, they'd finished setting the secondary unit into the trunk again, which had worn to the point that it slid rather than snapped into place. Nadrev had been disassembling the primary unit since they got it out--again. No one had been bothered for very long about the repetition, though. Ulinas was the hands-down favorite stop among all the crew but B'Elanna, who had not been there before, and they had a luxurious ten days in a well-equipped drydock to get their repairs done. With any luck, they'd get enough of what they needed to give B'Elanna a break...so she could crawl back under one of the many other systems screaming for attention.
Leaning back in his seat as he continued to wait for his coordinates, he remembered that B'Elanna would be crawling under those systems for only a short time. Her contract was up in two weeks.
He paused. Had it been six months already? Then again, it felt some days as if she'd always been there. He'd not thought about Livich since Podala, and even then, when he thought about his engine room, he only pictured that busy, determined half-Klingon, heard only her voice, steady and clear, over the comm. Tom had to think hard to remember Livich's tinny tone and steel blue stare. I was pretty drunk then, too, though, he reminded himself with a smirk. Tom better remembered the Zomirian whiskey he'd enjoyed during her last few weeks on board. How much he could feel and taste that old favorite blend on his tongue, feel the delicious numbness as it washed into his belly. Ulinas also made a particularly good...
Quickly tapping a note to himself on his arm console, Tom thought about maybe drafting a preliminary contract update, then see about the rest. Torres was obviously committed to the primary repairs, though she'd been giving him no indication of anything else. Or maybe she just didn't want to bring it up yet. Either way, it was something to do between checking in and their parts run.
Tom considered the options for a few seconds before deciding he could get a better idea of where she stood before they left Ulinas. Problem was, much as he wanted and needed those repairs and her brand of dedication, a small part of him still knew she'd be better off elsewhere.
"Coordinates received," Tom announced and opened up the comm. "Ulinas Station-Two, this is the Guerdon, ready on approach."
"Guerdon, we have you in position lock. You are clear to proceed."
Tom's fingers tapped deftly over his panel as he poked his twitchy ship into the upper atmosphere and wondered if the dealers might have an old GNS assembly lying around...
B'Elanna shivered a moment after they materialized on the transport pad at Rikad Province. She knew they were going north, but she was instantly annoyed that no one had bothered to advise a coat. Stepping down into the main terminal of the typically industrial structure, she looked out the nearest viewport and saw what looked like a warm sun. "Where is this warehouse?"
"There are a few, and they're out on the industrial wing, near the end," Tom answered, setting their pace toward the open side of the hold as he pulled his bag strap up onto his shoulder. "It opens up on some really beautiful country. Lakes and mountains, woodlands."
"That's nice."
He grinned over at her. She looked like she'd break in half if she crossed her arms any more tightly. "It's a lot warmer outside."
B'Elanna sighed with some relief and matched his quick stride along the outer corridor. It was a long, spartan building, dimly lit and populated only with workers. It was probably too early for day tourists. True to Tom's words, though, the sun outside was deliciously warm and slightly wet--a bath of relief that helped her speed her pace without effort. Looking around at the town's rows and mountains beyond, however, she couldn't help the pull in her gut. In her travels, world towns had begun to look all the same, just in different colors or sizes. Then she remembered what Ridge had said about the area's population. Everything she was looking at probably had a copy elsewhere in the Federation, including where she grew up.
"Are these suppliers natives?" she asked.
"No. Almost all the people here are either Human, Trill or Onaran--resettlers from other colonies--and Humans not from the border colonies, ironically, but the old, inner planets. They came in fifteen years ago and rebuilt most of this town, about ten years after Ulinas got Federation membership." Tom pointed around at the new, yet somewhat old-fashioned structures. "All of these fronts are built on the old frames. It was pretty run down after the Ulinians shifted out to their four colonies and other Federation bases. The central city has always been a great place to visit, but over the last ten years, Tikad's really come around; it feels like a little vacation resort out of the way. The scientists love this place because of the neaporan crystal cluster just outside the system."
"A little more than I needed to know," B'Elanna commented.
Tom snorted. "You know, you could try to get some insight on the vendors, B'Elanna."
"That's what you're here for, I thought."
"That's part of it," Tom admitted, trying for lightness that time. In truth, keeping himself occupied and away from an open bar charging merely credits was a good deal of his inspiration there. He knew without anything better to do, he'd be craving something to calm him down and could easily get stupid. He came close to contacting Paiham a few times at Deep Space Nine for boredom alone between sign-offs. (What would a little touch hurt? his brain droned to him over and over, until he was forced to run a few laps around deck four, reciting bearing equations and convincing everyone he'd lost it.)
As for the rest, B'Elanna reminded him of his initial reason for being her guide that day.
"My job's to keep the ship running, not be a tourist."
"Yeah," he said, peering down at her. "Question is, do you want to keep doing that? --Fixing the ship, I mean. Fixing the Guerdon."
B'Elanna met his stare, slowed her pace as he likewise relaxed. "You want me to stay?"
Tom shrugged. "I know you've been pretty pissed off with how things have been...how they turned out. All that wish list stuff pretty much went out the airlock with the Ligaran deal. I wouldn't blame you for looking for something outside the mess brewing in this region, not to mention I still think you're working beneath yourself. That said, I'll renew your contract on the same terms if you're up for another go."
She continued to hold his attention, so suddenly intent with the change in topic. The man was everywhere but down lately, but she believed his sincerity, there--not to mention she was glad he brought it up, and did so plainly. No games, no lectures. He meant business. She knew she wanted to stay and had slowly started to put behind her that incident at Andal, but only then did she realize how much it meant to her, for him to ask to renew.
She drew a deep breath and hoped he couldn't see any result of her relief. "I'm up for another go."
His lips turned up, then he nodded. "Okay," he said simply. Looking forward again, he pointed to a side street, which ran down to a series of oblong building. "We'll start with Nissan, then move over to Oscar. Takkid is on the far end of the row, so we'll try him last, then grab some dinner to take back for everyone." He grinned. "Ridge wasn't kidding about that chowder. Even Savan will eat it."
"What's the difference in their supplies?"
"Different junk drifts," Tom replied, springing easily back from his digression. "I haven't dealt here in Rikadin in a year, so all I can say is we'll find out who's been where."
B'Elanna didn't reply, but continued to walk at Tom's side until they came to the first building. Entering beneath a handsome façade, she peered around with some surprise once inside. It was more a covered junkyard than a warehouse. Piles of parts were strewn about in no discernable order, none of them were clean, certainly nothing could have been labeled in that condition, either.
"It's going to take me a week to get through all this," she hissed under her breath to Tom.
"Yeah, it's a mess," Tom agreed. "He must have just come back from a pickup."
"Just yesterday, in fact," said a man from behind him. When Tom turned, a middle-aged vendor in an old blue bodysuit smiled and stuck out his hand. "Paris, right?"
Tom blinked. "Yeah. You remember me?"
"Never forget a face or a name--and you left your base ID here when last you passed through. I've still got it on the workbench over there."
"Don't let me forget it this time," Tom chuckled, then motioned to the woman by him, who had not lost her frown. "B'Elanna Torres, my engineer. She'll be dealing today."
"Lot prettier than that lemon wedge who picked up last time," Nissan noted. "And that, I do recall."
"Is there any way to sort through this?" B'Elanna asked flatly.
Seeing the young captain shrug, Nissan answered, "Why don't you give me your list with your specs and condition ratings and I'll see what I can find. The piles are organized by age: Metallurgic analysis is best way to start with a bunch of scrap, right? If I have something for you, I'll find it in a day or so."
"I'll need to know what you have by tomorrow," B'Elanna told him.
The vendor laughed, shaking his head. "Quite the firecracker, aren't you? Good deal." Then, he nodded. "Okay, Ms. Torres, I'll see what I can find by tomorrow afternoon. Come by around then and you can even poke through yourself."
She nodded down to her PADD. "I will. Thanks."
Nissan took the datachip Tom held out to him. "You off to see Oscar next?"
"Tell me he hasn't been out recently, too?"
"No, you'll find him in good order--though he'll have less on hand. He's been boating with the missus. He might be able to get you something specific if he knows it's out there, though. He has claim to a floater around the ninth moon of Yibbal and a little shuttlepod now."
Tom and B'Elanna arrived at his building five minutes later. Walking in, they were welcomed by a long, half-circle counter, suitable for putting large parts on top of, several meters from the door. The entry space was plain but clean; skylights above made the area bright and welcoming. Immediately, B'Elanna liked what she saw.
Probably twice as expensive, though, she smirked to herself.
Leaning against the counter, Tom glanced back and nodded toward a monitor on the side. "You can see what he's got on file, there."
B'Elanna nodded and moved to the old display. "I still don't know why we couldn't have done all this on the Guerdon."
"And miss the chance for some fresh air?" Tom grinned, but shook his head of it. "When you want parts cheap, you dance on their floor." Bouncing on his heels a few times, he leaned over the counter again, then moved around it to peek into the warehouse door. "Oscar?" he called. "Anyone home?"
"Coming!"
A few seconds later, a dark, stocky man in a long shirt rolled up at the sleeves exited the warehouse to immediately shake Tom's hand. "How are you?"
"Fine, thanks. We're looking for parts for an Alos Two-five Sool tradeship."
"Hmm. Bolian?"
"Yeah, with parts from all around."
"Two-five sool's an oldie, too." Oscar eyed the taller man. "Do I know you?"
Tom nodded. "Tom Paris of the Guerdon. We've dealt a couple times, the last time just over a year ago."
"Good. I'll have you on record, then, Captain. Just give me a moment, here." Moving behind the counter to his workstation, singing the ship model to himself a few times over, he glanced at the woman concertedly tapping at the warehouse inventory before reactivating his console. Then he looked again--then stared. "B'Elanna?" he asked, though it was hardly a question when she looked up at him and paled, her lips dropping open as she focused on him. "It is you!" Oscar laughed and got himself back around the counter to approach her. "What in the world are you doing here?!"
B'Elanna gazed, almost in horror, as Oscar Madares approached her with his arms outstretched. She coughed when he caught her in a big hug and kissed her cheeks. In the corner of her eye, she saw Tom staring at the scene with equal surprise and a good dose of amusement. "I'm working," was all she could manage, then got at least an arm's reach away from him.
Oscar laughed, a little unsettled, a little confused, but happy nonetheless. "Working, are you? Mavis is going to faint when I tell her that. What are you doing with this man?"
"I'm his engineer," she told him, recovered enough to be annoyed at the distraction. Looking at Tom, she explained, "Oscar and his wife were neighbors on Kessik, where I grew up. It's been ten years since they moved."
"Just about that, yes," Oscar said. "Miral? How is she doing?"
"Fine," B'Elanna replied. "She went back to the Klingon homeworld after I graduated and left home."
Oscar looked like he wanted to say something about that, but he restrained it to a rise of a brow and a momentary frown before continuing, "And so now you're keeping a ship in one piece. Sounds like a fit. You're still keeping busy."
"It's not as hard to do, now." Seeing his mouth open to add something else, she added, "When you left Kessik, the last place I thought you would end up would be on another border planet."
"Oh, yes, well, we did stay at Vega for a few years. But then, the big astro-geological studies shifted out of that region, too. We went where the work was--is. The crystal cluster outside the system was just starting to be explored. They can't get enough of it. Just about every geologist with nothing better to do has been poking around in there."
"Yes, Tom mentioned that," B'Elanna said, trying not to be too dismissive. One planet's crystal trend was nothing she was interested in, unless that trend was dilithium. Though she noted to herself that Oscar obviously wasn't working that cluster now, she said nothing about that. She still was there for a reason. "Look, it's great to see you, but I do have a list I need fulfilled to get our ship running."
"Yes. Yes, I should let you get to that--though you know Mavis is going to want you over for lunch."
"I probably won't have the time, but you'll know where I am, and I can stop a little while when we have a pickup. Speaking of which..."
"Yes. You've got your list." Oscar looked at Tom, who had patiently watched the scene as he leaned back against the counter. "How long will you be on Ulinas, Captain?"
"We're here ten days, twelve total if we have to," Tom told him.
"If I have it, I'll make sure you get it within a few days," Oscar promised. "I'll even work in a deal for B'Elanna's sake."
"That's not necessary," she protested.
"Shut up and take the deal," Tom said with a laugh, then waved off the resulting insult on her face. "You know as well as I do what's in the pot."
"What's not in it," she muttered, getting the point. She still didn't like taking a discount just because she'd been the vendor's little neighbor long ago.
Oscar got back behind his console and took the datachip from Tom. "Good. Good." Looking up again at B'Elanna a couple times while his computer made the necessary matches, his smile flickered away, then rose again. "You'll come tomorrow, B'Elanna? I'll see that Mavis is here--and tell her not to try to lure you to the house. All this work, you are indeed very busy."
"I'll need to be here," B'Elanna told him, watching him fumble with his console, peek at her again. It pricked her nerves a little, in the way it always had when people looked at her in any other manner than directly, a long standing insecurity with her heritage that she was aware of but never could get past, much as she wanted to. She chose not to call Oscar on it, however--not just then, anyway, not with Tom standing right there and naturally curious.
His nervousness aside, the years hadn't changed Oscar much. He still was warm and familiar, and he talked a lot. She almost forgot how much he talked. Still, she couldn't begrudge seeing him. The Madares had been very kind to her and her mother after her father was gone, had never treated them like "other people," had always left their doors open to her, even if she rarely dropped by without their directly asking. Always something of a tinker--his conversion to parts dealer really wasn't that much of a surprise when she thought about that--Oscar was B'Elanna's first practical exposure to mechanics.
Fifteen years later, she stared at Oscar Madares and felt like she was on Kessik again, hanging around Oscar's sidelot, waiting for her mother.
Unfortunately, all the other memories she'd tried to leave at Kessik decided to crawl up upon her, too.
"But I still can't stay long," she quickly added.
LOOKING FOR EPS PARTS AT U-3. BACK AT YOUR 1100. --OM.
Tom and B'Elanna stared at the note literally taped to the door for several seconds before taking a step away. "What time is it again?" Tom asked.
"About nine hundred fifty," B'Elanna grumbled. She had hoped they could sign off on something right away so she could start some actual repairs. There wasn't time to mess around and wait for parts she hadn't even accepted.
"Well, at least it's not too long a wait," Tom said. Looking around the building row then down the hill, he added, "It's probably worth it just to hang around, considering. With ours out, the local transports doesn't customize site-to-site. Even if it did, as soon as we start anything on the Guerdon, we'll have to turn around."
"Hang around? And do what?"
"Maybe walk the docks?" Tom suggested. "It's a nice boardwalk around the town border and just down there. Last time I was here, they had something close to coffee at a kiosk near the marina. It'll be good to get a walk in."
"Maybe." Still frowning but knowing the captain was right about going back and forth, B'Elanna headed down the hill with him. Nissan, they already knew, had taken himself back to the floating yards to look for a few optical subprocessors he knew were up there, needing only to be detached from the junker itself. Takkid wasn't able to help them with their ship's configuration that time. Now Oscar was at the auxiliary unit he shared with a partner on the third moon, leaving her with Paris for the time being.
At least he's being quiet today, she shrugged to herself.
"And you thought you wouldn't know anyone at the party," Tom quipped, looking askance and down at her. "You knew Oscar and Mavis when you were a kid, then?"
B'Elanna briefly closed her eyes as she drew a breath. Or not. On the way back yesterday, they were busy sorting the inventory. She should have known he'd remember to ask eventually. "They lived on the next property," she answered. "My parents worked with them on a few field assignments before they all moved to Kessik."
"Geologists?" Tom asked and saw her nod. "What was the big project there?"
"There was an asteroid field a couple light years away with charged trimagnesite, among some other things that are really not my specialty." She glanced up. "And also things I'm not into talking about." She turned her gaze forward again.
A pause. "Why not?"
"I wasn't very happy there."
"You and your mom?"
"We argued."
"What about your dad?"
"He left us. Story over."
Tom slowed a little, staring down at her solid gaze, pointed at their destination and unblinking. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, examining her all over again. Those few admissions snapped into her personality like jigsaw pieces. "Guess it isn't easy seeing Oscar, then."
"Actually," she admitted, "I'm glad to know they ended up well. When their part of the study ended, they left not knowing where they'd go."
"Well, you've got that much, then," Tom said and tactfully let the topic die in his following pause.
At the end of the industrial row, the street opened up onto an impressive lake, which stretched around the base of the mountainside as far as could be seen. It was almost violet in the depth of its blue and flanked on one side by a wide, black boardwalk. On the other side, a sheer film of mist dallied in the last cool of morning below a shadowed, coaly rise. B'Elanna drew a long breath, smelling a kind of pungent wet that only a lake could boast. Down the walk, kiosk vendors had just begun their day, readying their wares just in time for the first few lazily strolling tourists.
It almost made B'Elanna feel bad for wanting to get back to the ship...or maybe just unnatural. By all right, she should have relished the idea of getting some fresh air and a walk. She'd been craving both since leaving Irtrin, but now all she wanted was to get her parts and get back to work.
Tom seemed to have no such problem, she noticed when she looked his way, then purposefully turned forward again. She'd tried not to stare at him since Sicira, though the change in his entire presence made that difficult. There on Ulinas, she found herself glancing even more. The yellow sun did every favor for his improved complexion and neatly trimmed but tousled hair, and even for his fair blue eyes, which had lit upon the view, scanning every leaf in the distance, it seemed. Indeed, he had an intensity about him, which decidedly had survived the change--a curious watchfulness that must have come from years behind the conn, being forced to stay planted for hours while concentrating on any number of readings. Or at least that was how she had interpreted it. She had never cared quite enough to ask a pilot about any of that.
In any case, it was there, along with a growing grin as they came near a flock of bright green water birds bobbing for seaweed. "I should bring some bread," he said, more to himself as he leaned over the railing to watch the show.
B'Elanna realized just then that she'd never seen Tom outside an artificial environment. They'd always been on a base or station or on the ship. The time they were at Minjau, she remained aboard while he and Maryl scoured for parts. On the Berlin, which arguably boasted the best lighting, he had been ill.
She still didn't know what that doctor had done to him, though they all had noticed he wasn't drinking alcohol anymore and he was eating real meals. He had even reprogrammed the replicator again, adding soups, pizza and salsa, among other items B'Elanna would never have imagined the man enjoying as much as he now did, as she never knew him to eat much of anything at all. Tom had also taken to pacing the ship in big circles, deck by deck for a couple hours at a time when he could. He still visited Savan's lab regularly, though, and in place of his moody lethargy was an agitated alertness with a side of wisecracking that was still surprising and sometimes annoying to her.
Ridge had it right: She hated change. Not that she hadn't instituted changes for herself--but she'd been in control of those moves. In that case, it was all the worse because she had just started feeling as if she knew him when his entire personality flipped over. Then again, she thought, at least he wasn't as bad as he was at Deep Space Nine, when he was literally running circles around everyone for things to do and in everyone's business as a result. Maybe it was wearing down, the aftereffects of whatever had been done.
She hoped so.
Beside her, Tom straightened, setting them off again. Drawing drew a deep breath of appreciation, he smiled and said, "It's perfect."
B'Elanna shrugged. "It's fine."
"Everything one could wish for."
"It's not that special."
"I meant for water skiing. It's like glass. Perfect."
"Water skiing?" B'Elanna echoed, surprised by the switch in topic and the information. More than the food, she never pictured the man near water.
"I used to love to water ski--or just get out on the boat. Feel the water, the air." He smiled. "It was great--though I'd probably break both my legs if I tried it again, after so many years in the chair."
B'Elanna turned her eyes out to the water. "I preferred sailing."
"Really? I took you for a speedboat sort."
"Sail boating can be fast," B'Elanna countered.
"With a danger element, too," Tom affirmed. His eyes took in the view again; he filled his lungs with the sweet morning air. Then he looked at B'Elanna again. "Let's go."
"Where?"
"Boating. Let's rent a boat and go sailing, burn the hour."
"Now?"
"Come on, B'Elanna," he urged. "We won't have this kind of time for months and I won't go alone."
B'Elanna turned to head back up to the town, cracking a laugh. "I can't handle this."
"Handle what? --Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I just can't get used to you being like this."
"Like what?" Tom couldn't help but laugh, too, she was so determined to continue away. "Like what, B'Elanna?"
"You've been set at full power since Sicira," she finally told him, stopping to look up at him. "You're about to drop dead one day, then they patch you up and you're running in circles around the ship as though you're on fire. It's taken everyone off guard, and if they don't know what to do with you, you know I won't."
"I'm sure something will kill it soon enough," he returned, his grin faltering. It revived again, though, to return to the topic. "Come on, B'Elanna. How hard can it be to say yes?"
Her lips twisted. "About as hard as it can be to say no."
"I know you want to. I saw that look in your eye when I first mentioned it."
She set off again. "Tom, we have a ton of other--"
"Oscar and those parts--if he gets them--aren't here yet." Taking her arm, he gently pulled her to a stop. "Please B'Elanna? I don't want to go alone and you can't see Ridge getting in a dinghy with me, can you?"
B'Elanna snorted.
"And Savan's like a cat. I think she's allergic to water." His eyes shone brightly into hers; he felt a smile he'd not felt in what seemed like eons well upon his face to ask her one more time. "Show me how to drive?"
B'Elanna felt her breath slow a little to stare up to him that time, to the light in his eyes, the brightness of his expression. He was asking her to share the one real joy she'd known in her childhood, with that look, so foreign and yet so right on him somehow...and sincere.
"Okay."
"Great!" Tom Paris laughed; for a moment, she thought he might kiss her for merely accepting. But he managed to restrain himself enough to give her arm a grateful squeeze, then turn to look out at the lake again. The breeze picked up just then, stirring a few curls of hair as he squinted out onto the horizon.
B'Elanna almost lost her breath to see it. Free of the ship for the while, out in the sun and the air, he almost seemed...happy. Even with a month of preparation, his turn of...of everything, really, was all so incredibly weird...but good. Yes, in the end, it couldn't be bad, at least for his sake.
"Now," he said, turning a random squint toward the marina, "where do you think we can rent a boat?"
Snickering, she tugged him southward. "Come on, sport. The rentals are back there. I saw it yesterday."
"So you did want to go," Tom teased and paced himself to walk beside her.
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Do you want to do this or don't you?"
"Sure, I do."
"Then let me handle it."
Tom continued by her side, smiling down at her. "Yes, ma'am."
B'Elanna didn't dare look up, even when fate saved her from getting caught up in something that probably was a stupid idea after all....
"*Tom, are you there?*" It was Maryl.
He reached in his pocket and tapped his comm receiver. "We're here."
"*Oscar Madares was just looking for you. He says he's back and has some parts ready for pickup.*"
"Thanks. We're on our way over." Tom sighed as the comm was cut. "So much for playing hooky."
"Another time," B'Elanna said victoriously.
Pleasantly surprised that B'Elanna had said anything at all, Tom grinned. "I'm holding you to that," he warned.
She could claim victory twice that day.
Within a few hours, B'Elanna had an EPS base and its coordinating primary feeds spread out like a massive jellyfish with a hardhat on a worktable she'd recently set up on deck three. Oscar would work on grabbing more pieces of similar compatibility. The ship he was mining from was Minjan, ironically enough, but seemed to fit the specs remarkably well. B'Elanna would remember that.
For the mean time, she already had the pieces laid out and ready for a cleaning. Space was sterile, but the conditions that got it to the scrap yard plainly were not. As a result, the whole assembly was coated with grime and corrosion. The latter, thankfully, was not severe. It simply needed to be scraped away and any pits re-soldered. She then could begin to refit the assembly, rework its connections and finally set in a new primary EPS distributor, granted Oscar could confirm he had the model she needed. He would continue to search for a trunk replacement while they were out on the leg.
As she ran her tricorder over a few of the lateral power taps, it came up with a request for more information, which meant it didn't know what it was looking at. Pulling up the chemical codes, B'Elanna furrowed her brow. It looked like the usual. I should have known it wouldn't go in so easily.
Walking out into the corridor and forward to the cross section, B'Elanna hit the comm there--then hit it again. Not even a hiss met her, though the lights were active: Another network problem. "One more for the list," she grumbled to herself and set off for deck one. She didn't bother to call back to Ridge and Nadrev. Outside working on hull fractures and testing the nacelle plating, they probably wouldn't miss her. They'd be out there all day and the next at least.
Savan had the dayshift on the bridge while Maryl hunted for contracts at the station and coordinated with the Fidlor Group, but B'Elanna didn't find her there. Calling out a couple times, she felt a pinch in her gut to get no answer. Though she didn't visit there often and they were powered down at stable drydock, it unnerved her to see the bridge both empty and silent. Quickly doubling back, she headed for the first cross-corridor and down to Savan's office.
"You'd think they'd leave me alone," came Tom's voice, muffled by the thin door a few meters ahead. On impulse, B'Elanna stopped.
"Your projection of them," said Savan. "The nidoxin will help."
"And it's getting worse again. I feel like I'm coming out of my skin. Keeping busy helps, but I can't move enough sometimes, and now I'm having trouble sleeping."
"The symptoms will fade with time and your continued efforts. Find me again when you are going to retire and I will administer a mild barbiturate."
"They're still coming up."
"I believe, Tom, 'they' always will to some degree. How you deal with this is what should change."
"Are you secretly studying to be a shrink?"
"Hardly. Do continue to report these episodes to me, Tom, even when minor. I would like to see if there is another pattern."
"No problem. Hell, if it hasn't been so far..."
"Their cause is psychological."
"Couldn't be as easy as a chemical imbalance, could it?"
B'Elanna slowly came closer until she couldn't not straighten and propel herself through the doors at regular speed without knowing she was purposefully eavesdropping. Both Tom and Savan looked at her as soon as she entered and stopped just short of the worktable. He was leaning against the table, still rubbing at his bicep, a little paler than that morning but just as alert. Savan looked more displeased than usual.
"I have a question for you about a chemical analysis," B'Elanna said and glanced at Tom, "but it can wait."
"We are finished," Savan told her.
Tom gratefully slid between the women, then gave B'Elanna a look behind him. "We set for tomorrow morning?"
"Last I heard, yes," B'Elanna blurted, then plowed ahead to cover it, "The comm's down again. I'll switch to secondaries as soon as I hand this question over."
"Oh-eight hundred all right?"
"I'll meet you at the ramp," B'Elanna confirmed.
"Okay," Tom said and moved easily out of the room.
When the doors slid shut, B'Elanna reactivated her tricorder to present her problem and opened her mouth to speak.
The Vulcan beat her to it. "Whatever part of my conversation with Tom you were able to hear I would greatly appreciate you do not repeat."
B'Elanna blew a breath to fight the blood that rushed into her face. "Why do you assume I'd want to gossip? It's none of my business what goes on with Tom."
Savan held the young woman in her eyes for several seconds. "Thank you."
B'Elanna stepped a little closer to finally show Savan what she'd picked up on the taps, though in the back of her mind, she was unwillingly more curious than ever.
"Good morning, sunshine!" Oscar called as he came around the counter wearing a fresh set of coveralls and a big smile. Giving B'Elanna a light hug, he turned and shook Tom's hand. "I have good news for you, B'Elanna."
"I couldn't tell," she smirked, stepping back from her friendly ex-neighbor.
"That power transfer conduit distributor is going to work out. The tests on the Minjan derelict turned up a near ninety-five percent compatibility."
B'Elanna reconsidered that hug. "Are you sure?"
"Very," Oscar confirmed, then held up his hands. "Now, it's a mess like the rest, but it's in good enough shape to rebuild. And knowing how much you already have to do, I'd be happy to reconfigure the main connection. There's a new design layout that's supposed to be very efficient in these old models. --Tom, I mean it, and at no charge, either."
B'Elanna dismissed the offer with a shake of her head. "I appreciate the offer, Oscar, but I'd prefer to handle the rebuild myself."
"Oooh, little miss engineer, all grown up," Oscar teased.
"B'Elanna's actually taking a break from Daystrom to go slumming," Tom deadpanned. "We'll be getting our crappy mechanic back soon enough." He didn't have to look back at her responsive expression. "Sorry, couldn't help myself, B'Elanna."
She rolled her eyes, but didn't withhold her smile. "Two of you, now. Great."
Oscar chuckled, relenting. "I'll have it for you tomorrow morning."
"That'll work," she nodded. "How much?"
"One bar, sixteen strips."
Tom eyed him. "A little slim for a PTC distributor," he commented.
"You're still on discount," Oscar told him. "And don't look at me like that after telling her not to argue. I'll rob the next trader."
"I wasn't really arguing," Tom grinned and counted out the latinum. His smile faded, however, as he mentally calculated how much that day would put them out. Not that he could do anything about it at that point. Without the parts, they wouldn't be able to add anything else to the pot. Thankfully, Maryl had secured a one-way shipment of korbonite cells to DS9 for use on one of the Bajoran moons, which would help a little. With any luck, she'd fill a few more holds. All they had to do then was be able to take off.
While Tom fished in his bag for his datacard, Oscar took B'Elanna aside. "Now, Mavis and I want you over for a lunch or dinner--just a little while before you go. You can take a meal with us, can't you?"
B'Elanna sighed. She knew she'd be cornered eventually. The morning before, Mavis seemed quietly intent on getting to talk to her "off duty." Now Oscar was staring at her, almost begging with his eyes. "I'll try. You can see what we have going on."
"But you do eat, yes?" Oscar said, trying for his smile that time. Glancing past her towards the door, he added, "We do need to talk to you about the projects happening in his region and some other business."
Turning her stare askance, she didn't ask just then. Obviously, Oscar wanted to be discreet about something. "I'll try to carve out a spare hour or two, if it's all that important."
"It'll mean a lot, trust me." The man kissed her cheek. "You're a good girl. Thank you. --Now, Tom, have a look in here at the other assemblies I've mined for you."
"We can't afford much more," Tom told him.
"Sure you can," the older man smiled and motioned to the big double doors.
B'Elanna followed Oscar and Tom into warehouse, where neat piles of pylons and struts waited for inspection. She knew she'd have taken the lot if she thought she could--Oscar wasn't giving it away, after all. She assured Nissan of the same shortfall the afternoon before and in the end chose the field generator coils. It would refresh the ones they had at least, as would some of the field coils and the plasma distributor, which laid between several items she resisted more easily.
"We'll take those and the connectors and links," she said crisply, activating her PADD.
Tom nodded. "You heard the lady," he said, glancing at the other man. "Can we get a gift wrap?"
Oscar laughed. "I'll see what I can do. Want me to transport them again?"
"Yeah, but this time to...deck four forward bay, B'Elanna?"
"Yeah," she said, still tapping out numbers. "Ridge and Nadrev can sort it out with the rest."
"We have a pointer on," Tom told Oscar and returned to the main room.
B'Elanna finished her inputting and paused to grin at the parts piles. Between installing those parts and repairing their EPS system, they could probably manage another two-way from Deep Space Nine without nearly as much hassle. She hadn't been sure about it at first, but it was coming together now--a needed reassurance. She just needed to get those parts in her engine room, do the rebuilds, and they'd be set again. Then she'd definitely give Mavis that meal at their house. It was the least she could do after they once again had been very kind to her.
Moving back out into the lobby, she saw Tom and Oscar still jibing at each other. Choosing wisely not to get involved in that, she tapped some notes into her PADD while she waited for the moneys to finally be exchanged and Tom to get his datacard back. As they concluded and thanked each other; B'Elanna finished, too, she saw Oscar look up and suddenly fall silent.
"Something wrong?" Tom asked.
The man's eyes were on the door again, that time reflecting recognition.
"No," the man said softly. "Not wrong, I don't think."
B'Elanna glanced back....
"That was the business we needed to discuss," said Oscar softly.
His voice was a sector away. Her heart stopped; her skin chilled so quickly she had to suppress a shiver. Eyes like her own stared back at her, equally stunned--equally scared.
Seconds passed and B'Elanna couldn't think, couldn't interpret what was before her, if only for sheer disbelief. Numb followed the cold, even as she gripped her PADD. As if seeing the Madares hadn't aggravated old wounds, her long gone past tore open behind her eyes, and she saw with perfect clarity, after years of pressing it away, the last time she'd seen that face, that expression. She felt her anger, terror...guilt.
At last, her instincts took over: She turned on her heel and left the building as fast as she could without running.
"B'Elanna!" the man called behind her.
Looking at the men in turns, Tom jogged out after B'Elanna to catch up with her. She stomped up the row clutching her PADD, her dark eyes nailed straight ahead and her lips parted for her pants of breath. Her skin was white; the muscles in her jaw were tensed. Hearing footsteps behind them, Tom asked, "Who's that?"
"Don't worry about it," B'Elanna responded.
"He seems to know--"
"I said, don't worry about it!" she snapped. "It's none of your business!"
"B'Elanna!" called the man again, dropping his bags to catch up with her at last. "At least let me talk to you!"
She whipped around and glared at him. "You're a little late for that," she told him then resumed her course straight to the terminal.
The two men were left standing in the intersection, looking after her, then looking at each other.
"You know her?" the man asked.
"She's my engineer," Tom told him.
He blinked at that information. "Is your ship in a restricted area?"
"No, but I wouldn't suggest visiting if she doesn't want to see you." Tom eyed the man, his dark brown hair and near-black eyes, slight, leanly muscled build... He knew he didn't need to ask, but he did, anyway, just in case. "Who are you?"
"I'm John Torres--her father." The man jerked a slight shrug. "I haven't seen her since she was a child."
"Yeah."
"I want to talk to her, if she'll let me."
Tom sighed, slumping to consider that complication--not one they needed just then, one he also knew would not be putting his engineer in a good mood, judging by her initial reaction. "Yeah. Okay, look, you can try contacting her tomorrow, if you're all that serious about getting in touch. We're knee deep in engine repairs, so I can't guarantee she'll break for you even on a good day. But you can try. Oscar's sending us some parts. Get our information from him."
To Tom's great relief, the man nodded and turned to go back to the Madares' warehouse.
"Ridge!"
Tom came cautiously around the warp core, following the sound of his engineer's demands. He'd been curious to see how they were coming along, having noticed when he came on the bridge that morning that the power transfer conduit had been tuned up and the EPS's replacements were already being prepared.
Apparently, B'Elanna had been working around the clock, which Tom wouldn't think twice about if he hadn't seen anyone scurrying out of the engine room for other things to do. Nadrev, who preferred staying within the ship, readily expressed his relief in having to work the incoming crates in Ridge's stead, and even Savan had chosen to sit under the twitchy internal comm and diagnose that latest issue. Maryl promised she wasn't going down there until whatever was up with B'Elanna had blown over, though the liaison needed to talk in detail with her about the revised parts list and some upcoming deals. Tom didn't know if he should feel sorry for Ridge at that point. The man handled B'Elanna so well, it seemed he was more comfortable with yelling than peace.
"Where the hell are they?!"
"Working on the last set!" Ridge called back faithfully.
"That should have been done two hours ago!" she huffed, then turned her glare to Tom as she ripped open the field generator casing and threw it on the grate. "What do you want?"
"Just passing through."
"Keep passing through, then," she told him, crouching down before the assembly. "This isn't a spectator sport."
Tom pursed his lips, leaning on a bulkhead to watch her dig in with her bare hands. "Oscar sent the crates," he informed her. "Want me and Nadrev to arrange them in the loading bay?"
"Deck four?"
"Yeah."
She grabbed the center control panel and unhinged it with a snap of her wrist. "Fine. Is that it?"
"Yeah, that's it," he muttered and moved away. Glancing back, he added, "Just remember we're going to need that engine again soon."
"I know what I'm doing!" she retorted and hauled the generator arm out with a tight groan. "Damnit, Ridge! Where are my constrictor pins?!"
"On the way! They're almost ready!"
"Get them up here now!" she bellowed.
As gladly as Nadrev had, Tom passed out of her earshot and made his way back into the next section, where Ridge stood at a grader, resurfacing the pins in question. The man's mouth was twisted with concentration, his big hands holding the slender rods securely as he matched the grooves with the laser and turned the rods as needed. He glanced up at Tom and offered a brief grin.
"Surfed through Hurricane B'Elanna unscathed?
"For the most part," Tom nodded, then added, "It's not going to be a good day."
"You get that impression, eh?" Ridge joked, then shrugged. "I don't mind the steam as long as it eventually floats away. She'll get some sleep, feel better."
Tom didn't bother disputing that notion. The tech obviously had other things to think about. "Take it easy," Tom said and left the section.
Nadrev didn't always get a lot of credit for his judgment. Reserved and small in frame, the young man did his work with a pleasant quietness that would have made everyone quite happy had he not replaced a far more gregarious man. Thankfully, Nadrev wasn't insecure, either. Not only did he get points for not trying to live up to what Jerod left behind, but he proved capable of another brand of wisdom when he had their supplies dropped off outside the deck four loading dock rather than in the engine room.
Standing on the gangway amidst the crates and flats, Tom felt the warm sun and breeze and the quiet buzz of that "nice side of town." Indeed, the central docks were clean, efficient, quiet, free of wandering dealers and well worth enjoying while they were there--well worth their usual price, had they so much latinum to throw around. Tom tapped a note on his PADD to thank the Fidlor Group personally for their accommodations.
Nadrev took his time unpacking the myriad parts B'Elanna had purchased, organizing the smaller pieces on the correct trays, then stacking the trays neatly on the cart, which would be taken to where it needed to go. Though he was really coming along in his training, working diligently everywhere he was assigned, the Bajoran was just as happy as the rest of them to take a break with the mindless stuff from time to time.
Tom moved down into the middle of the piles, whistling at the largest of the arrivals. "That's going to take some doing," he said.
"The EPS distributor?"
"Yeah. B'Elanna needs to refurbish it as is, but it'll need a scrubbing before she starts that."
"Maybe I can offer to do that part," Nadrev said, though it seemed he wasn't so thrilled about that work.
"Offer, but she'll want to do it herself," Tom said, then knelt to start checking off the equipment. "You're inventorying that as you go?"
"I have the PADD here if you want it now."
"That's okay. We'll collate later. I just wanted to know."
Another breeze drifted over the gangway and Tom breathed it. If asked, he would easily admit that getting out in the air those past few days had reminded him how much he loved being outdoors. Even years ago, despite his love of flying, it was equally nice to get back and do something planetside. Maybe I should have dealt for some holographic equipment on the Berlin while I had the chance, he mused. Bay four-three starboard would be perfect for a little holosuite....
Then he wondered what the hell he was thinking about. They had power issues enough without installing a giant energy siphon in the belly of the ship. It'd be nice if we could, though, he sighed to himself, then got back to his PADD. He gave Nadrev a quick glance as he passed with the cart, then bent down to get the registry number off the upper plate. He wasn't about to wipe it with his coat to make it clearer. "Nadrev," he called behind him, "can you bring some solvent and a wipe when you come back?"
"I will," the Bajoran answered.
Checking off the line of items before him, he saw two cleanly shoed feet in his line of vision and looked up. Then he frowned. "Speaking of power issues," he muttered. Unable to look down again without looking stupid, Tom instead got to his feet and acknowledged the man, first with a quick nod, then, "Mr. Torres."
"Captain Paris, yes?" the man answered, stepping closer.
"Yeah," Tom said, not happy for the visit for more reasons than one. "If you're looking for B'Elanna, it's a slim to none chance she'll come out right now."
"I thought so. She hasn't returned my communiqué."
"I don't think she's checked, to be honest. She's been at it overtime."
The elder Torres considered that for a moment. "No, I think she's checked to see if I've tried. I knew I'd need some help getting her to answer."
Tom resisted a groan when a more pointed look painted itself on Torres' face. "Why do I need to do anything about this?" Tom asked. "There's got to be a reason why she's pissed at you, like your apparently not being there for her."
"She has every right to be angry about that."
Tom waited for further explanation, but getting none, he nodded curtly. "Glad we've got that settled. What do you want with me?"
"I want you to help me."
"Why do you think I'll be able to?"
"You're her captain."
"So they say. Doesn't mean I've any influence over my crew."
The other man didn't seem convinced, but decided to drop it. Instead, he offered his hands. "Please help me," he said. "I can see you're busy. I'll give you a hand with this equipment if you'll hear me out. This might be my only chance to right what happened between B'Elanna and me."
Tom stared at Torres for several seconds, taking in the man's seriousness and quiet desperation. Not firm by any means, he seemed to have spine enough to come there and beg. Tom could see B'Elanna's occasional apprehension in him; that unspoken need in her eyes had to have come from him as well. Looking over at Nadrev, who was doing all he could not to pay attention to their conversation even while his work was only a meter away from where Mr. Torres was standing, Tom said, "Nadrev, go see if Savan needs another set of hands, will you?"
"I'll do that," the Bajoran said. Handing Tom the requested solvent and a stack of wipes, then quickly finishing the last few pieces into the inventory, he set the PADD on top of the pile, gave the other man a nod, then gladly disappeared into the cross corridor.
Tom reached out and grabbed Nadrev's PADD. Setting up a new page, he tossed the device to Torres and pointed to the stack next to him. "You know how to inventory, right?"
Torres snorted. "Yes, I think I can handle it."
"You'd better," Tom grinned. "My engineer will skin you alive if the numbers are off by a bolt--and that's on a good day. That pool of lava over there's been dripping out of the engine room since she saw you." Tom sprayed some solvent on the next strut casing. "So, you and B'Elanna's mom divorced and she's been pissed at you about it?"
"That's a part of it," the other man replied, cross-checking the parts to the labels he pulled up.
"You weren't around?"
"Yes, I wasn't there...and I know it was wrong." Torres' eyes drifted away from the PADD. "It was a difficult time for us all. When she was angry and pushing me off, she probably needed me more than ever, but I didn't see that until it was too late, and I just couldn't go back."
At that admission, Tom paused, his mouth slightly agape as he realized aloud, "You left." Suddenly, those pieces really started to fit; he exhaled to know it. "It wasn't just divorce. You didn't go back."
Torres paused then nodded. "Yes."
Staring at him another few seconds, again waiting for the man to offer more, Tom asked, "And you didn't bother trying to explain why?"
"My wife divorced me. That much should have been obvious."
"I meant your not explaining why you left her."
"I thought at the time she wanted me to go."
Tom coughed an ironic laugh. "Are you a complete idiot?"
"Miral used to ask me the same thing."
"She asked good questions," Tom returned, then started rubbing at the grime on the label. "Anyway, you're the one who wanted to air your side of it. Now I know what you did to her, it's your turn."
Torres sighed and began to set the pieces into the tray. "I didn't know she was here," he said quietly.
"It didn't look like you were looking for her."
"I've been working with the Bitdraet Project for four years, living on base out at Sattra. Most weekends, Oscar and I explore the caves in the Rikad ranges and I'd gone there to see if he was free. I knew something was going on, but he didn't say what. He just asked if I'd stop in with Mavis to see how she was doing with the planting. She wasn't there, so I came right back...and there she was. B'Elanna." Pausing, he entered another index of pieces. His eyes hardly stuck to the work. "After you two left, he told me he'd wanted to prepare B'Elanna first, so she wouldn't react the way she has."
Tom rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that was a good plan," he said under his breath, then looked over at Torres. The man had heard his comment, but Tom didn't care. The more the man spoke, the less Tom wanted to do for him. "Help me get this on the truck," he said.
The other man came over and got a hold of the end of the strut. Tom took the other side and together they heaved the part over to the waiting cart. Lowering his end onto the flat so to other end could be stood upright, Tom made sure it was secure then went back to his PADD to mark it off.
Torres, too, went back to the flat to finish the tray. "I tried to contact B'Elanna when I found out she was at Starfleet Academy, but she didn't return my messages there, either."
Tom furrowed his brow. "How'd you know she was there?"
"I still have friends in Starfleet."
"And it took them to tell you where your daughter was?" Tom coughed a derisive laugh. In its own way, it was almost as bad as his own father's maneuverings. "Now you've had another accidental encounter and you expect the outcome to be different?"
"She's the one who didn't return my communiqués," Torres pointed out.
"How many did you send?" Tom asked.
The other man loaded the tray onto the cart then pulled up an empty one. "A couple," he quietly answered.
Tom stared at him again. "You didn't try again?"
He sighed. "No."
"Your ex-wife shouldn't have needed to ask the question," Tom snapped. "You are an idiot!" Catching Torres' responsive glance, he shook his head. "What makes you think she's just going to come out at your convenience? It's almost like you're asking for failure."
When Torres said nothing, Tom paused. The older man wasn't the only person he knew with that disposition, he knew with a certain stab of shame. Regardless, he continued, "Look, B'Elanna's the best engineer I couldn't have hoped for--pure, natural talent, an amazing ability to figure this piece of junk out. She's a friend to everyone on the crew, loyal to the core and I thought at first that she wasn't afraid to speak her mind about anything. So, maybe you can understand my confusion when I see her practically curling up into a ball at the mere mention of you. She looked like she'd crack when I did as little as ask about her childhood."
Torres was a little stung, but managed not to respond too much. "It was...stormy. In the end, we argued; she took me the wrong way and, well, I knew she felt bad about it--she was a good kid, just...intense. I felt bad about everything, and I didn't know how to deal with it, how to talk to her."
"So you said nothing at all," Tom concluded, even as he wondered why he was getting into it, caring so much. He wasn't getting anything done at that rate, which was going to screw up more than his own schedule. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of it all, how utterly clueless her father seemed to be about her--and Oscar, too. "Treating her like a little Klingon," he added to himself aloud, then looked at Torres again. "You and Oscar both, handling her like a bucket of trilithium. Granted, she's no fun when she's ticked, but who is? If you respected her at all, you'd have made an effort to be straight with her."
"I'm here now," Torres protested.
Tom shrugged. "Maybe. You going to be here again tomorrow? And the day after? You know our ship now. If she doesn't respond after we leave, will you still keep trying?"
"I'm willing to keep trying this time, if you think that'll help turn things around."
"You're willing to turn things around?" Tom rolled another part over and kneeled down to clean off its plate. "It's funny, at first I thought she was just hardwired to meltdown when she couldn't keep a handle on things, but seeing how you are and knowing it was rough with her mom, too, it makes perfect sense." Looking at the other man and waiting for his attention to be returned, he continued, "Mr. Torres, she has no one. She doesn't talk to her own mother, who did stick around; B'Elanna had no connections when we hired her. She never signed the death instruction form, either. If she was blown out an airlock, we could do nothing but send a death notice to the Federation central registrar. You wouldn't find out she was dead unless you wanted to know."
Again, the elder Torres sighed, slumping over the tray he'd stopped working on.
The resignation only frustrated Tom more. "I'm supposed to be hearing you out, remember?"
"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "All of a sudden, I don't know what to say. I always thought I knew how I'd explain this."
"Seems you have a habit of being at a loss for words," Tom observed.
"It should have been simple," Torres said softly, ignoring the young captain's sarcasm. "Miral divorced me and told me to leave. It had been coming for months by then, so that much wasn't a surprise. But B'Elanna... We'd been so close when she was little, but she and I had been having a hard time, too. One night, she overheard me talking about her and her mother and...well, it was all blown out of proportion. She overreacted, and I didn't know what to say without backpedaling into lies. When Miral told me to leave, I thought it would be a good idea to give us all some space, let everything calm down. So I left. I thought I'd wait a week, then stop in, or meet her after school, have a talk. But it...I just didn't. I tried to write her something, but... I wasn't able to understand her and she was so angry with me. I thought that maybe time would help. But the longer I was away, the more I knew she would hate me for going, and so the harder it became. So I stopped trying."
Tom's eyes had narrowed throughout the explanation. "Do you understand how seriously you screwed up?"
"At the time," Torres admitted, "I thought she would be better off without me confusing things again. I could hardly talk to her anymore without it being misunderstood."
"Yeah, that helped her understand a lot," Tom replied sourly. "Suddenly, her dad's gone and he doesn't write, he doesn't come back, and when he does make an effort, it's a one-shot. Do you honestly think a kid's not going to wonder what was so wrong with her that he'd never want to see her again?"
"I do now," Torres pressed, holding Tom's gaze at last. "And like I said before, I want to do something about it this time, while I can. I'm assigned to the Baskidri Survey in the Bitdraet mid-rims and have to leave in four days, but I'll do everything I can while I'm here."
"Which she deserves," Tom told him. "You should have to work for it."
"But will you help me, if only to just...just tell her I want this? Hearing it from you might make her believe I'm serious."
"Hearing it from me might make her resist the idea even more."
"Maybe. It's worth the risk." Torres offered his hands again. "Now that I've seen her, now that I see how much she's grown..." He breathed a little laugh to himself. "I've missed so much. She's her own person, now, and maybe I don't deserve her forgiveness, but I'm sure she deserves to finally get an explanation from me, face to face, the way I should have, from the start."
Considering him once again, Tom held Torres' stare for several seconds before motioning to the other side of the assembly. "Help me with this," he said. When the man came around and got his hands under the frame, Tom lifted with a grunt. Together they drug it to another flatbed. "I'll talk to her when we have a minute," he promised, huffing a little from the exertion. "But I'm not about to play the go-between without her permission. It's your job to settle the issues between you two. The only reason I'm doing this much is for B'Elanna's sake."
John Torres rubbed his hands and nodded. "I understand. I'm glad B'Elanna has a friend in you."
"You're lucky she does," Tom returned. "That wasn't the case six months ago." Moving to the gangway inner arm, Tom tapped the comm there. To his relief, it activated. "Nadrev."
"Yes, Tom?"
"I need you back down here, if you're not too wrapped up."
"Savan didn't need me yet, so I'm free," he answered.
Torres knew what it meant and gave the captain a nod as he stepped away. "Thank you, Captain."
Tom's frown had not dissolved as he got back into the middle stack of crates; the warming breeze and busywork wasn't washing it off that time, either.
He had wondered how long the thrill would last.
She'd padded across the warm, wooden floor in bare feet. Mother had designed her home well, insisting on hearths, indoor ponds and floorboard heating, which in turn kept the house very warm and moist during the cool, dry winters there.
He probably hates heat, too, she sighed, still feeling her anger at what he'd said, but feeling more guilt for her own part in it, especially as her sourness continued. Dad was so sad, all the time, now, and he didn't make an effort to hide it anymore. She hated that she was a part of that. Worst part about it was that they'd been inseparable. What happened? she used to ask herself. She could feel him moving away from her even while standing still. Then she heard him complaining about her and her mother to Uncle Carl, about living with Klingons.
Much as she wanted to, she was scared to apologize for how she had yelled at him for what he said...scared of what might happen--of what she might do again. She wished she could make it all go away, make everything the way it had been before...before she'd been so angry. Maybe if she didn't say anything, it'd blow over. Maybe if she bit her tongue, tried harder than ever to be how she'd been, he'd want to be with her again. If only she could remember how she'd been.
Not that it mattered. Dad was sick of handling her mother, was getting tired of handling her, now that she was so "sensitive" all the time. He couldn't take them and so she invited him to get out. But how she wished it were different, that he wasn't so repelled by them now, that she could have been what he wanted her to be.
Mother wasn't helping matters, as usual. She was disgusted all the time and never made an attempt to suppress what she felt. B'Elanna shuddered to think they'd be visiting the Klingon Homeworld again if things didn't improve soon. The smell alone of that place made her sick to her stomach.
Things had to improve, she decided. She'd make them improve, somehow. Things had been great once. They could be again.
Bearing her shaking breath, she came around the corner in her bare feet, pulling her pajama top neatly down. Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, his elbows on the board, slightly slumped. He looked tired. When he turned his head and found her in his eyes, he sighed before he smiled, then stood. B'Elanna put on a smile for him as well and went to him. "Off to bed, then?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You finished all your homework?"
She gave him a look. "Of course."
"Good," he said with a nod.
"Goodnight, Dad," she whispered and gave him a hug. Was that normal enough? she wondered, feeling him squeeze her hard, breathing into her curly hair. Finally able to pull back enough to look at him, he still looked sad, though his smile seemed more real.
"Goodnight, B'Elanna," he returned. He held her hands for several more seconds before finally letting them go...
B'Elanna's eyes shot open to find the Guerdon's cold blue ceiling above her.
Water from her eyes had left trails on her temples.
She shivered.
So much for everything coming together, she grumbled to herself as she made her way into the lounge, still half asleep after fifteen hours rebuilding the distributor and five hours of barely sleeping at all. Another communiqué from her father was waiting for her when she got up, wiping her face and disgusted. She dumped the message despite her curiosity. She couldn't open it. She didn't want his pity, his excuses. She just wanted to get her parts, snap the EPS unit together and get the hell off of Ulinas, get back to Deep Space Nine.
The only bad thing about it was that they were scheduled to come back after the next pickup. Oscar probably gave him the whole damned itinerary. She'd planned to get some more parts from him when they returned. She would have to send Ridge instead. She couldn't go down there again. Bad enough knowing her father was hanging around, but she was equally angry with Oscar for trying to hold her off.
Her father had a little gray in his hair now, and his face was a little paler. He was thinner.
Hurt and angry, she'd told him to leave if he couldn't love them anymore. He seemed so ready to do it and she lived in fear since spitting the words at him.
After saying goodnight, she glanced back at him one more time before heading to the stairs. He'd returned to the table.
She never saw him again. Question answered. Case closed.
If only it was so simple.
If only she could bury it for good.
B'Elanna breathed through the crush in her chest. She hadn't signed her contract renewal yet.
"Morning," Tom said from behind her.
She glanced back. Tom sat at his usual table, kicked back in his chair. He had a stack of signoff PADDs in front of him and a mug of coffee hanging from his long, steady fingers. An empty bowl had been pushed away to the center of the table. He looked bored, as usual when he was knee-deep in what he called paperwork. B'Elanna growled a little to herself at first before remembering that he was usually in that place at that hour. Maybe for what he'd been doing the day before, she'd simply wanted a change in his routine.
"Hi."
"How'd that distributor work out?"
"It was a mess to get into," B'Elanna answered, "but it wasn't a waste on the inside. I got it done before I broke last night."
"Are we doing the EPS assembly this morning, then?" he asked.
"Yes. Is that all right?"
"Just making sure," he told her. "I've blocked off nine to sixteen hundred, just in case."
B'Elanna turned back to the replicator to tap in a breakfast she felt like eating. "We should be done before fifteen hundred."
He shrugged. "It'll give me time to help out on the other stuff."
She blinked to realize she'd have another full day with Paris and his many good moods of late. Granted, he had become easier to be around in the past few days, but she was equally glad to know she could keep him very busy there and that he would indeed work very hard. But then, he always had. Even when he was very ill, he put a surprising amount of hours in the engine room, doing whatever it took to keep the ship alive. She'd never known a captain like that before.
B'Elanna's eyes remained fixed within the hole in the wall for several seconds, deciding what to do about the rest of her problem with him at the moment. Of course, she really didn't want to bring anything up, but then, in her half year there, she learned that handling issues right off tended to get them off Tom's mind faster. So, she said, even but without much else, "I heard my father came here yesterday."
"He did," Tom replied, glad she broached the topic. He owed Nadrev a big favor for dropping the hint on that one.
She watched her meal slowly materialize. All that work, all those Starfleet people in my room, and the damned ODN is going to fail again any day now, she cursed to herself, then drew a deep breath as she realized she couldn't distract herself enough. God, if I could be talking about anything else today... But she knew she had to ask. "What did he say to you?"
"He talked about how he and your mom divorced," Tom quietly told her, "how he felt guilty for leaving you--more for not coming back or staying in touch like he should have. He asked if I'd help get you to respond to him." He shrugged. "I can tell you everything that passed between us if and whenever you want, B'Elanna. He seemed like he wanted to make good, but he didn't know how to get you to hear him out. He said he'll be planetside a few more days before a survey he's on starts. He seemed anxious to talk to you."
B'Elanna took the table next to Tom and started setting out her coffee, fruit and toast. "Are you telling me I should contact him?"
"I'm not telling you to do anything, B'Elanna," Tom replied over the lip of his mug as he scrolled through some regulations. "I know how I'd feel if anyone approached me about making amends with my father on his terms. I'm just telling you what I know. The rest is just what you said: none of my business unless you ask for it to be."
"Did he ask you to get involved?"
"He wanted me to help you see he was sincere, maybe get you to respond to him. I told him I'd tell you what he said, nothing more." Tom looked up at that. "I respect you too much to mess around, B'Elanna. I know how tough this has to be for you, so I'm only as involved as you want me to be."
Blinking at that last bit--much as the remark suited him, she hadn't expected him to voice it--she picked up her fork. "Okay. Thanks."
"You're welcome," Tom said and bent down to his reports again. Silently, he let out a breath of relief that it was over with. At the same time, he wished it really were.
Silent again as she started into her meal, B'Elanna looked over to see Tom's feet bobbing nervously under the table.
An hour later, Tom came onto the bridge still holding his mug and a few PADDs in both his hands. Glancing up at a purplish blue sky in the little dome above his station, he then gave Savan a nod. The Vulcan returned the gesture with a slight bow to boot. Tom slowed and blinked. She rarely gave him a glance when he came on, much less a silent salutation. "What's up?"
"The communications relay has been successfully repaired by Nadrev and myself. It was completed at seven hundred hours. It should not trouble us again in the immediate future."
Tom's brows rose. "You and Nadrev really burned the midnight oil on that one, didn't you?"
Savan looked at him askance. "Your archaic expressions are surfacing again, Tom."
"You two worked overtime," he clarified.
The corners of her mouth turned inward. "You might have used the simpler phrase initially."
"But then we wouldn't be enjoying ourselves nearly so much right now," Tom returned, setting his coffee on the side of his console before taking a seat.
"Again you assume I enjoy these conversations."
"Deep in your heart, you know you'd be bored without me."
"I will see about refilling your medication when next it is convenient."
Maryl came in. "Are you two griping already?"
"Sorry to have not gotten some?" Tom quipped.
"You know I have plenty of my own material to nail you with," she returned as she checked into her panel. "I'm right on time," she remarked. "Tom you've got an encrypted message coming in over subspace from Capella."
He furrowed his brow. "Where?"
"You heard me. Capella."
Tom shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "Okay. Let's see who's knocking."
Maryl tapped on her monitor a few more times as Savan decrypted the signal. That done, she sent it to the main viewscreen without pause. Looking up, though, she coughed to see what she least expected. "What is he doing there?!" she blurted before she could think not to.
Captain Chakotay had appeared on their main viewscreen, dark, dirty, giant-sized and decidedly unhappy.
Tom managed to yoke his own surprise and stuff it into his frown. "Captain, what brings you to Capella?"
"Our signal origin is disguised, as you'll figure out once your person is able to analyze it," Chakotay told him, his small eyes narrowing as they pinned to the other captain. "What I'd like to know is if anyone else is going to find out."
"Is that my problem?" Tom asked.
"It will be," the other man promised. "We find it very interesting that the Guerdon was assisted by Starfleet so conveniently after your Ovar run."
"Yeah, you would," Tom sighed. He had expected the Berlin's assistance would get back to Chakotay somehow. "We had a shipwide power failure, Captain. The USS Berlin happened to be nearby and offered their assistance."
"And you accepted it."
"What do you think I should have done?" Tom returned. "Tell them to go away because I'm contracted to the Maquis? They gave us parts and dragged us to Sicira--they did their job and I stuck to mine. I wasn't about to risk my ship and crew to turn in someone they wouldn't find in the first place."
The Maquis captain's lips tensed in thought then turned down again. "I was part of the system. I'm sure a fair deal could have been worked out to spare you and your ship."
"Yeah, they'd have been happy to spare me."
"I'd like to believe you, but again, I know how Starfleet works."
"Believe what you want," Tom coldly replied, "but frankly, I want to be on Starfleet's chain as much as I want to be on yours--in other words, I don't. You can use me, you can not use me. That's entirely up to you. Were it up to me, I'd ask the whole lot of you to get off my back."
The Maquis captain let a long pause pass before finally asking, "When are you scheduled to leave Ulinas?"
"Six days if our repairs go as planned."
"We'll be monitoring you."
"I expected nothing less than the best," Tom smirked, waiting for the other man to finally cut the comm. When he did, he peered back at a thoroughly abashed Maryl. "Guess I get some material, too," he said, though he wanted to be lighter than he was.
Maryl recovered more quickly. "Don't forget, you need to do the verbal okay with the Fidlor group, too. That's this afternoon."
Tom rolled his eyes and uploaded the signed contracts to the Guerdon's computer. "Great. I can't wait."
The data finally filtered onto his screen so he could double check them and then send them to Maryl. Tom meanwhile tried to breathe through the bad mood he'd been delivered, the first real one he'd experienced since he left the Berlin's sickbay. Being the worst possible choice for family mediator had started the turn. Finding out precisely why B'Elanna could tolerate neither change nor incompetence was strangely unsettling, much as it helped him to understand her.
Then that morning, before B'Elanna found him in the lounge, he'd been approving the ship's budget. By Maryl's calculations, they'd been running thin until they were finally able to get back to their Hidirin run. The various parts bought from Rikad had easily wiped out their payment for that run, and they would need a stock of deuterium at Deep Space Nine. He and Maryl had already squabbled at the end of shift yesterday about needing another deal, agreeing only on perhaps taking a one-day stop at Irtrin to scrounge up something.
Now that would likely not be possible, with the Maquis knocking on his door again.
Not that he had forgotten about that deal, or that they were largely broke during their comfortable stay at Ulinas, but plotting out a future was no easier now than when he was able to numb the frustration a while. How he wished he could distract himself somehow, get away and relax, just for a while.... You have to get back to those issues eventually, anyway, he reminded himself. God, what lousy habits I've picked up.
"What now?" Maryl suddenly said to herself, then, "Tom, you've got another--"
"If this is what fixing the comm's going to give me," Tom cut in, "then feel free to break it again."
She snorted. "It's okay. It's planetside--a communiqué from Base Three-Sattra."
"Text only and put it on my monitor," Tom replied.
"Why?" Maryl queried, but gave up as soon as Tom pointed another look back at her. "Yes, yes," she grumbled. "Material."
When it came in, he nodded to see the sender he expected:
I still haven't had any response from B'Elanna.
It occurred to me that maybe I could meet her
alone at some point, and then she would be
more willing to speak with me. I'd need to
know when she might be off the ship again,
though. Is this something you can help me with?
Give an inch... Tom frowned to himself and tapped back a negative. Much as he wanted the man to leave him alone, he knew B'Elanna had every right to her feelings...whatever they were. He didn't blame her for not being too forthcoming. For that matter, B'Elanna was the one working on his ship. Being a captain meant looking out for one's crew...not to mention the budget and Captain Chakotay...
"Little wonder I never wanted this job," he muttered.
"Well, some idiot has to fly this rig," Maryl countered, still reviewing the contracts he'd sent back to her.
"I could teach you," he replied, half serious.
"But I'm not an idiot."
"Got me there."
"*Torres to bridge.*"
"You're ready?" Tom asked, gladly pulling himself back to his feet.
"No, I just wanted to chat," B'Elanna responded. "We're ready to go and waiting for you."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm on my way."
"Hi ho, Hi ho!" Ridge sang out as he wrapped the pulley straps around his hands.
Tom snorted. "I'll never in a million years be any good to you if you keep singing that one," he said and stood up from the side of the distributor he'd just unbolted.
"Just thought we could use something festive," Ridge shrugged with a chuckle.
"We're unhooked!" Tom called aft. A "Yeah!" was the only reply. Slowly, as the ship powered down, they looked over to B'Elanna, who came around the assembly tapping on her tricorder, her face set in stone as she glared at her readings. When the auxiliary generator came on, lighting and half-powering their systems for the time being, she nodded to herself, tapped some more. Prowling back to the replacement base, she made one last check, then moved her prepared tool tray as close to the assembly as she could get it.
Finally, she knelt down next to the old base, picked up her laser wrench and looked at her tech. "Okay, Ridge. Do it."
"Here goes again," Tom puffed, grabbing a good breath before helping his friend heft the distributor into the air then swing it around towards a waiting Savan and Nadrev.
They pushed a waiting cart forward to catch the equipment. "You may lower it now," Savan told them as Nadrev knelt to steady the cart. The distributor clanked against the metal and settled in, much as usual.
Ridge and Tom immediately grabbed duron-ratchets and helped B'Elanna unbolt the EPS trunk. The hiss of the tools and dropping bolts on half-deck beneath the assembly was all that could be heard nonstop for several minutes. The trunk soon was freed, and with Savan, Ridge, Tom and a winch all guiding and pulling together, the tubular housing was set onto its side. B'Elanna stepped in and disconnected the circle of connections there, cleaning them as she went along to save time when they reinstalled it. Seeing the over-worn upper end of the trunk did cause her to frown, but she moved on. She couldn't do anything about it about it on that leg. The trunk was secured in a magnetic clamp B'Elanna had brought up from one of the cargo bays.
They repeated the procedure with the base, which was shaped like a doughnut and attached directly to the deck. Three meters in diameter and mired in junctions and cross-supports on the top, feeds and taps on the underside that ran into a half-deck below it, and from there into conduits, that part of the job was a little more complicated. B'Elanna and Tom both had to scrape away a good deal of corrosion to loosen the plates; Ridge ended up cutting away several of the pins to free the supports. Ten minutes later, Savan was back to help them peel the old apparatus away from deck three with crowbars, then hoisted it into a locking position. After the straps were secured, B'Elanna and Nadrev got underneath and disconnected each of the power feeds and then the taps.
Tom moved back while they worked, sharing a grin with Ridge. "God, this'll take care of so much, it's hard to imagine."
"Which will naturally allow a whole new system to break down," Ridge joked, holding his head high. "But that's what we engine gods are here for."
"You're here to scrub coils when we're done if you keep going down that road," B'Elanna warned from the edge of the base. "Nadrev, lay that one over there. Yes. Theta-five feed."
"We could get transporters online almost immediately," Tom told Ridge, "transport the old base and the rest of this stuff for scrap, get a few strips back at least."
Ridge, who had silenced with a sheepish grin, said quietly back to Tom, "I'll just be glad to have my shower back on full power."
"So will Maryl," Tom grinned.
"Aww, she loves me just the way I am."
"She'd have to at this point." Leaning back with his duron-ratchet still hanging in his fingers, Tom felt a smile creep back onto his lips, belying his mood of earlier. Of course, he'd still have to deal with it when his time down there was done, but he did not neglect to be grateful for their good fortune in at least that department. Watching as B'Elanna came around the old base, her eyes set solidly on her task, he didn't miss the brief grin that touched her lips as she unhooked the last power tap and laid it in the proper position. Tom laughed a little to himself. She too found cheer in progress, despite all that awaited her outside.
It's a satisfying escape, all right. Not to mention it gets something done in the mean time. And he shook his head for the hundredth time that they'd been able to hire B'Elanna. Starfleet screwed themselves good by letting her ditch them--but now that made sense, too. He hoped when she chose to deal with her issues, it'd go more easily than his own business had. He was glad to see her father seeming to make an extra effort. Tom never thought he'd be so grateful to have had all his family around him growing up than when he heard Mr. Torres explaining himself...even his own father, despite how that turned out.
Tom shrugged it off for the mean time, stuffing his tool into his trouser pocket. Like his business, it could wait until their preferred occupation was done.
"Ready," B'Elanna said, nodding at Tom and Ridge. The men came forward and attached the EPS base to the main pulley. B'Elanna backed off, crossing her arms to watch the old piece lift slowly from the deck. Her face radiated satisfaction at the view--until, of course, it was time for her and Savan to turn the hulking disk around and help them get it into the third clamp.
They all paused for a breath at that, then simultaneously looked at the new part to be installed. B'Elanna had refurbished the scrapped assembly, but it might as well have been brand new. It glistened in the emergency power light; its connections were polished and ready for installation and activation. It almost looked too good to put that old trunk on, but they went to it without much more thought about worthiness.
"You know," Ridge puffed as they lowered the trunk into its slot, "in olden times, they just got a bunch of guys to sit in the bottom and row."
"Oh, for the good old days," Tom chuckled. "Who gets the whip?"
They both looked at B'Elanna and snorted.
B'Elanna shook her head at their fun. She was in no mood for any of it, much as it helped them get through the heavy physical labor. Seeing the trunk swaying precariously in the air, held only by a few suspension belts, did prick her nerves, though--and they were pricked enough already. Her father seemed not to be taking silence for an answer this time. Was Oscar egging him on? Was Tom being straight with her about his lack of involvement? And then she wondered why she couldn't just go and get him over with, tell him to go to hell and stay out of her life.
Because she didn't want to do that, she knew, gritting her teeth--then snapping herself out of her thoughts. She literally had tons of other things to do at that moment.
The trunk met the base and B'Elanna immediately moved to snap in the lead bolts. Getting it down all the way, the men came forward again and ratcheted in the remaining connectors. They then loaded up the new distributor and set it into place. The old trunk accepted its burden: It slid rather than snapped in like the other two always had, but otherwise looked as stable as before. B'Elanna climbed onto the brackets to get above it and connected the main power tap conduit.
Running her tricorder over it a couple times, B'Elanna nodded her approval. "Savan, you can take us off the generator and switch us back to full power." Smiling at her success, she moved away. Then, there was a creak. She turned around. "What was that?"
Tom shook his head, kneeling by the opposite support pylon to make sure the connection there was secure. "I don't--"
"Look out, Tom!" Ridge suddenly called out.
The trunk bent forward as the bearings began to give way at last to age and stress. The creak became a metallic groan and the junctions in the base sank. Before Tom could imagine some way to get the straps back around the distributor, the support beams right in front of him followed suit and folded under the increased pressure. As his eyes widened at the sight, a shard of sparks flew at him, scalding his hands.
"Shit!" he hissed and jumped back.
Then they came down: The distributor and the trunk both lurched forward and collapsed into the new EPS base, tearing the main power tap halfway from the conduit above, then out of its housing. All the base's junctions and cross-supports at the head were crushed.
The sheer force of the sudden fall was not welcomed by the old, corroded deck, either. The base only partly supported by it and a diamond-shaped support frame, it easily folded in when the units hit it dead center, cracking the plates and sending the assembly through to the half deck below. Another spray of blue and red sparks from the plasma discharge below flew up from the hell just created, like water from a fountain flipped on.
Moving back, Savan reached up and switched them back to the emergency generator, then cut all power to the EPS.
Silence--for a moment.
Slowly, the trunk pulled the base up and partly over in the half-deck, revealing the ropes of feeds torn from the junctions, its remaining current popping in time with the falls, the weakened metals scraping and tearing, grinding...then finally falling silent again.
They all stared at the unfolding destruction with rapt horror, disbelief, shock. As it all halted, Tom clasped his singed hand against his chest, flexing his fingers and trying to comprehend what they'd just lost.
Next to him, B'Elanna coughed, then stepped closer, her glassy glare jumping from piece to piece, shard to shard. Dragging a couple hard breaths, she released a hissing growl, then whirled around and kicked the unit sidewall. "Damnit!" she yelled and punched another dent in the upper section, stopping just short of hurling her tricorder at it as well.
"Watch those fingers!" Ridge pleaded.
"Forget my fingers!" she yelled. "What the hell am I going to do with this?!"
"Lots, if we could afford it," Ridge slumped. Forced to face their view again, he didn't seem to know where to look, there was so much to see.
"This is useless!" she spat. "The whole thing's a worthless pile of garbage!"
Tom's breath began to pick up as his heart began to beat again, then thrum. The whole ship's pot, plus most of what little he'd managed to collect in the last few stops, all of it gone for a bad EPS trunk. They weren't going anywhere. They wouldn't be going anywhere. Tom's face paled, and his mouth firmed against his teeth and his breathing brew more rapid. His stare was fixed on the EPS, unable to tear away.
Savan instantly recognized his breathing. "Tom, perhaps we should--"
"Shut up," he cut in, then dragged another breath. B'Elanna was right. They might as well have never bothered. They'd never get ahead. Rather, they were falling further and further behind...and not even falling anymore. They were all dead in the water. He then wondered what the self-destruct protocol was on that rig--if there was one. It'd be too good for the Guerdon at that point.
Stepping back from the chaos, still flexing his swollen digits, Tom's eyes finally found B'Elanna's. Visibly livid, she knew precisely how damned they were.
"*What happened down there?*" Maryl asked from the bridge. "*My console came on for a second, then flicked and died.*"
"We just lost the EPS to another, um, malfunction," Ridge croaked.
"Which wouldn't have happened if you two hadn't been screwing around!" B'Elanna barked, swinging her attention back to her tech. "It was set down into the wrong pins! There's no way that could've happened otherwise!"
"I checked those pins," Ridge insisted," and they were in toe to toe, just as we planned."
"You weren't looking at it right!" she snapped.
He gave her a rare long stare and frown. "I know I got it right, B'Elanna."
"Well, something's got to be at fault!"
"That trunk was readying to go, B'Elanna," Ridge reminded her. "Even you knew it had to be replaced soon."
"Not yet!" she retorted. "I spent all night shoring it up! It wasn't going until I got rid of it, damnit!" With a scream, she threw another few kicks into the base plating. "It shouldn't have gone wrong! It should've held on! That son of a bitch!"
The deck silenced as she heaved a few more lungfuls of air, growling on each exhale, readying to burst again, but somehow holding it back for whatever she wasn't saying at that point. Staring hard at the wreckage before her, she seemed to realize far more than what she'd be doing for the next week at best. It reflected on her features no more fondly than the rest.
For his part, Tom had slowly begun to step away from the pile. His ratchet had fallen dumbly to the ground during his engineer's tirade, leaving a fist behind. "Maryl, you still there?"
"With bated breath," she quietly answered. Two decks up, she probably was never so glad to be technically inept.
"Contact the Fidlor Group and ask them if they'd be willing to give us an advance. We'll need...God, I can't begin to think...what we need." He shook his head. Every time I think we're getting it done, he cursed to himself. No matter what I do, I'm screwed--and they are, too. We'll never get ahead. Never... Tom finally backed off to the access corridor. "I can't handle this right now," he told them. "I've got to get some air."
Residual coolant steam buffeted his hard-set face as he cruised around to the access ladder.
B'Elanna watched the place where he disappeared, into the cool fog, striding silently away. Her tricorder began to bleep again, snapping her back to the EPS. Staring at the wrecked distributor, however, she suddenly thought that the captain's expression had turned back to something she knew quite well and thought she'd missed until it speared again. It was pale, hard and blank...lost. It was the first look she remembered him giving her.
It was the look he gave her before he helped her to everything she did have now.
Closing her eyes, she shut her tricorder.
"Double up and lay down your credits, friends.... The dice are up!"
"Taggir! --Another on!"
"Double up, double up!"
The echoes emanating felt more like home than most other places did since he started on the route. The warm rush of air and inviting smell of table snacks, the clinks and buzzing conversation, echoes of laughter and thumps of chairs, all drew him closer. Every notion of comfort, he associated with those sensations now.
"Nasro! --Another on!"
Sloshing his hands around in his pockets, he felt a few strips of latinum and lint. It wasn't enough for the tables by a long shot--not for Ulinian table dice--but it was enough for a touch.
Tom's eyes drew up. He saw clearly into the window of the south base bar. He knew every crack in every chair, every stain on the floor...
What would a touch hurt? he asked himself. It's not like I have enough on me to do any real damage.... What does it matter in the end if I get some relief? No one's going to give a damn either way I end up as long as the ship flies eventually. Savan'll even deal with it.
He slumped, letting loose all his breath. "Piece of shit coward," he muttered.
"Towing five! --Another on!"
He knew all the wait staff and dice dealers there. A good sample of the clientele was also familiar to him, captains, dealers, crew, all enjoying a little time off, taking it easy and getting off the routine. He'd been missing the diversion of stopping in, making connections, relaxing. His missed blowing off the heartbreak of watching every step forward being followed up by a smack back--back where he belonged, apparently.
Screw it. I deserve a break. I deserve...something. Anything--anything but that damned series of failures that's my livelihood. So I drop dead or puke my guts out. It'll happen, anyway...and I'll have had a few minutes...just a touch...
A hand touched his shoulder and he jerked around. He blinked to see his engineer looking up at him. "What are you doing here?"
B'Elanna could only stare up at him at first, startled by the naked pain that greeted her. She drew back to feel it practically radiating out of him. But then she stopped, straightened, held her ground. She drew back to nearly feel it radiating out of him. But then she stopped, straightened, held her ground.
"Sailing," she said abruptly. "Let's go."
Tom blinked, jerked his head. What?"
"You heard me. Let's go sailing."
Tom shook his head. "Look, you don't have to come after me."
"I know that," she replied. "God knows I have other things to do."
He stared at her pointedly.
"It's what a friend does," B'Elanna said simply, "and you said you'd hold me to it. I won't have time later. So come on."
His feet remained unmoved. "What about the engine?"
"What about it? It's not getting fixed today. Oscar and his people are back on the hunt for a trunk, tap and frames; he'll check in after dinner." She held his heavy stare, pulling up her chin. "I contacted the marina and rented the boat. It's white with a big green sail, and it's windy as hell out there, they say." The corners of her mouth turned up. "We'll probably be thrown over."
Tom breathed a laugh he barely felt, but wished he could. "The element of danger, right?"
"Something like that," B'Elanna promised.
He paused, forcing himself not to look back at the window. He first chose the gravel walkway, and then glanced up to find her dark eyes still on him. She wasn't backing off. "What are we going to about the EPS?"
She sighed, shrugged. "I was angry. I shouldn't have blown up like that in front of everyone."
"You had every reason to."
"Maybe, but I do know better...and I'd like to think I'm better about it than I used to be." Again, she shrugged. "Anyway, once we get the parts we need, it'll be fine."
"If."
"I didn't buy everything from Oscar," she reminded him, "and he has some other pieces I can use that we didn't need before. Everyone's chipping in until we get that advance and he's really giving me a good deal after what happened the other day. It'll work out." She paused, pressing her certainty with her expression. "We'll make it work."
"We just lost the entire power manifold, B'Elanna," he stated. "I've never seen that much damage make itself happen in a day, and we still have the ODN and navigational deflector to think about."
She rolled her eyes. "It's a ship, Tom. I'll fix it."
"Yeah," he conceded, a fonder gaze finding him to know it.
"Yeah. Well, that said, I'm not ready to work with that thing right now, either. I've ordered my parts and the cleanup can wait a while, so I can afford a break." Tilting her head, she continued archly, "You don't have to do much: I'll keep working the engines and you still get to drive." She felt some satisfaction to see the color gradually return to his face, his expression loosen up a little. The pain remained in his eyes, but it was familiar enough to her that she wasn't concerned about that part. At that, she said, "I owe you, Tom, for handling my father and respecting my feelings about it."
"All I did was hear him out," Tom dismissed, "and tell him I'd run what he said by you when I could."
"I know. You didn't have to do that much."
"You don't have to take me sailing, either."
"Yes, I do," she told him. Her lips turned up. "Besides, you were right. I did want to go all along."
Finally, his grin warmed and, considering one last time, he fell to her side. "Then I guess I have no choice."
"You have a choice," B'Elanna returned. "Just mine's a better one." Setting a gradual pace to the nearest transport, she crossed her arms and set her eyes ahead of her. In the corner of her eye, she saw the captain put his hands in his pockets, release a sigh, swallow. She peered up at him. "What did that doctor treat you for, anyway?"
"A form of liver failure," Tom answered. "I was wondering if someone would ask."
"I didn't want to intrude."
He nodded. "Okay."
"But it's better now?"
"Yeah, all better now. No more alcohol, though, especially alien varieties...which means I've got to deal with things head-on for a change."
"Not easy, is it?" she said, not ignoring the irony.
"No. It's not."
They came around to the transport; with a few commands, they stepped on together and activated the unit. A couple seconds later, they were looking at the Rikad terminal for the third time that trip.
Wordlessly, B'Elanna set their pace again, a little faster when she saw the sun continuing to lure her outdoors. She hummed her approval when they came out of the building, even when the breeze cut into her jacket and insulted her hair--and then she wondered why she even thought about it. It'd be much worse soon, and it wasn't for herself she was there, anyway, though she hadn't been lying when she told Tom she needed to step away for a while, too--a first for her, in fact. She didn't know what to make of that, only that being a friend for a change just then would be more useful than sitting waiting for yet more parts and seething about what she already knew she'd be doing nonstop until it was done.
Thinking about it that way, it suddenly wasn't a decision anymore.
It occurred to her just then that Tom could have been dead as soon as Sicira. Everyone had chosen to not say anything, let him work things out for himself as usual. Meanwhile, he was wasting away, alone in it save whatever Savan was able to do. She must have worked very hard to keep him moving, considering her watchfulness during that time. Considering all this, B'Elanna held her silence a minute longer as they crossed through the little town, pursing her lips with her thought before deciding to voice it.
"You have a second chance, Tom. A lot of people aren't that lucky."
He frowned. "Yeah, I know."
"Some of those unlucky people are still around," B'Elanna pointed out.
He looked down at her, briefly catching her even gaze, realizing to whom she was referring. "You didn't do anything wrong, B'Elanna," he told her, and continued even when she turned her head in the negative, "He was the grownup. He should have known better, should have done it better. But he didn't; he walked away because he wasn't strong enough to handle it head-on, either. That had nothing to do with you."
She closed her eyes at his words--words spoken with more conviction than she'd ever known in him. "Whether or not that's true, I'll still regret my part in it."
Tom nodded. "I would, too, if I'd been in your shoes."
"Then why are you saying anything about it?" she demanded, stung anew. "I thought you agreed it wasn't your business."
He sighed. "Look, you're doing something really nice for me today. I appreciate it, B'Elanna." Stopping them, he held her fully in his gaze. "I really do. But you know what? You have a second chance, too, who's waiting for you at Base Three-Sattra. He is around right now, which is more than I'll ever be able to say for those dead crewpeople and my friend. It's not going to be flowers and sunshine, and it shouldn't be; but I have a feeling you'll regret a lot more if you don't give yourself a chance to forgive him--and yourself."
She drew a long breath, sucking up her impulse to throw his suggestions right back at him and walk swiftly away...to keep doing what she'd been doing since that man in question had run away, years ago. All those years, she'd been unwittingly following her father's example.
B'Elanna's heels dug down hard as she held Tom's unwavering stare. At last, she jerked her head toward the lake. "Let's go."
His brow furrowing, he didn't budge. "Didn't you hear anything I said, B'Elanna?"
"Of course I did," she responded, but reigned herself in when she saw the choppy water ahead. Her heart began to beat in expectation, feeling the dips and turns and the rush of a struggling sail in her hands, the whip of the wind and the speed. "God knows we'll be here long enough to get to the rest of what I need to do," she told him. "I deserve this break."
Tom released his breath, gave her a slow nod. "Fair enough."
"And about time," she said as again she set their pace down the avenue. "Come on."
She was back on that street the next morning, and for an odd moment, she didn't regret it. The sun coming through the fog lit the little town nearly lavender, warmed it just enough to make the wet inviting. The fog helped quiet that early street as well: Maybe a little unsettling, but it was also very peaceful. She was so accustomed to noise that she never failed to notice silence. She almost wanted to get that little boat out again, lie down in it and float for hours, bathe in that peace and plush glow.
But she wasn't there for that. She had other business to handle--business she should have handled from the start.
She hadn't put anything special on, just her usual wrap shirt and khaki trousers. Even her hair was cursorily brushed. It had crossed her mind to clean up some more as she got her PADDs arranged in her quarters, but she nixed the idea as soon as she activated her schedule. She would be back under the EPS base in only a couple hours, continuing to repair all the severed feeds as Ridge disassembled all the plates. They'd soon be re-welding them, one by one, then reinstalling them. That was the first order of the day...
First after this, she corrected herself.
It almost didn't seem real as she neared him. Her boot heels clopped on the stony brown cement, hollow and echoing against the nearby building façades. Standing right where she asked to meet him, by the droop of his shirt collar, the disorder of his hair, he seemed to have been there a while, still wearing that mix of anxiousness and regret she'd seen the night he left.
A full stride away from him, she stopped. Crossing her arms upon her ribs, she blinked and said, "Good morning."
John's mouth twitched for want to smile. His eyes took in her every feature then found her unmoved gaze again. "B'Elanna..." Seeing her brow rise, he drew a slow breath, then released it. "I heard there was trouble on your ship. Are you all right? Do you need--"
"We're taking care of it," she told him.
Her return to silence forced his eyes down momentarily. "I know. This isn't what you want to talk about."
"Yes."
He nodded, looked at her again. "I'll never be able to reverse what happened, what I did and didn't do," he said, offering his hands, then letting them fall again to his sides when her fingers clasped her arms. "But I am sorry for how it hurt you, B'Elanna. I'll always regret causing you so much pain."
She blinked again, pulled a quick breath. "Did you leave because of what I said that night, in front of Uncle Carl?"
He paused, choosing for a moment how to answer that.
"Tell me the truth, Dad."
"Not entirely, but it did affect me." At last, John straightened to look at her again. "B'Elanna, why I left isn't the problem. Why I didn't come back is what went wrong, and it wasn't about anything you did or who you were. I couldn't get my feet under me enough again to do make it right...to be a good father to you. It's not a good reason, but it is what happened." She looked directly at him, then, seeming to ask with her stare. He sighed as he gazed long into her eyes. His hands twitched to reach for her again, but he kept them still that time. "I never stopped loving you, B'Elanna. I never stopped wondering how you were, what you were doing."
B'Elanna rolled her stiff shoulders and looked down the avenue, tried to see through the mist to the corner. The sun was starting to melt the fog; she could see a blinking storefront light. The man across from her had fallen silent again, though his attention had not diverted. She drew a slow breath through her nostrils. She could smell the lake in that air. "Is there someplace to eat around here? I could use some coffee."
Straightening, nodding, he motioned down the way. "There's a place just around the next street."
She did not come near enough for him to touch her, nor did she look his way, but she did fall beside him as he started down the avenue.
"So..." he started, venturing as gently as he could, "you're an engineer."
Her lips turned briefly up. "Yes."
"Haven't you had enough fun out there?" Tom quietly quipped when he heard her come into the aft parts bay.
"I'm a masochist," B'Elanna returned, lowering herself next to him to see what system he'd gotten into.
Tom obligingly scooted over so she could get a better look. "What do you think?"
She shrugged. "Not bad for a beginner," she replied and set her toolbox down.
Tom chuckled lightly and let her open the next section. Indeed, after eight full days patching their EPS manifold back together, patching up the deflector and going for broke with their main computer, then charging off of Ulinas as fast as they could make themselves go, they had to be insane to use their precious time off on a useless project like that shuttle. Half-hour by half hour, however, it was really starting to look space-worthy. Nothing fancy, of course, it was just a tossed aside shuttlepod nearly the age of the Guerdon, but it was coming together. Any accomplishment, useful or no, was some sort of gain, especially of late.
"You seem to be feeling a little better," he observed.
B'Elanna nodded. "It's good to be off the ground...and settled, at least a little." She looked over at him. "Thanks again, Tom, for helping."
He smiled a little, warmed by her softly put words. He wasn't used to that tone of voice on her, but he had no problem deciding he liked it. "I'm glad I could, even just a little."
He had been of greater assistance than he probably believed, she knew, with but a few words and for just being sensitive to her feelings. It was still cool with her father. In perfect truth, she didn't trust the man, and she probably never would entirely. But they did manage to offer each other some reassurance and come to some important understandings between talk of their work and a little of where they'd been, catching up in summary. She told him about the crew on the Guerdon. He related how Tom had defended her and how he had come to fully understand his fault because of it.
B'Elanna wasn't up for much else past that repeated apology, and surprisingly, her father followed her tacit guideline. As they spoke quietly about Ulinas and her schedule, she finished a scone and two cups of coffee, then stood to return to her ship. Something in her wanted to hug him goodbye, but she didn't. They parted where they met on the street, each looking back once, then moving forward. The next morning, before leaving for the survey, he sent her a note of thanks, hoping they could meet again, to let him know when they were back at Ulinas and telling her how to reach him if she needed anything.
B'Elanna still felt a little odd about it all, though she was glad in the end that she met him. She was glad she blocked off a couple hours to finally have lunch with Mavis, too. The rosy-cheeked matron hadn't changed at all and stuffed her full of every temptation she could pull off her old-fashioned stove and every bit of warm regard and pleasant chatter she had always been happy to deliver. B'Elanna enjoyed the visit far more than she wanted to admit. Indeed, much against her expectation, B'Elanna left Ulinas without any regrets.
"Are you doing better?" she asked in her turn.
"A little shaky still," he admitted, "but better, yeah. Some days are better than others are. Keeping busy helps. Thanks for asking."
Indeed, it was a fair price for friendship, truly gained now, he believed, and proof again how a little can go a long way in securing someone's feelings. They both were guilty of that and thankful for that. Tom was also a little surprised by that as well. Of all the crew, B'Elanna was not the one he'd have expected, after what happened to the EPS, to come and look out for him. It made his semi-involvement in her family business a lot easier to think about, he had to admit.
Before leaving the planet, when they were still stuck and still seething about where in the hell they'd scrape up enough for the new EPS trunk they'd managed to find in another dealer's south continent warehouse, Tom had found that same assembly sitting in the middle of their last shipment from Oscar Madares. The main comm was down again, so Tom had sent his complaint the old-fashioned way:
|- RE, the EPS trunk: Thanks, but I'd rather not get anything for free. -|
||- It's been paid for honestly, -|| came the text reply not thirty seconds later.
|- By whom? -|
Tom scowled at the screen as he waited, then blinked to see:
||- Fathers get to do these kinds of things for their daughters. He hasn't been able to for a long while. He has plenty of credits lying around. Let him, Captain. -||
With one final second thought and against his better judgment, Tom did.
Five days later, Tom leaned into the old shuttle's main coolant junction and began to unravel the iso-nodes there. "I know I'm probably pushing it now, but..."
B'Elanna looked over when he cut himself off. His face, as usual, did not give him away. "What?"
"You should write him--your father," he suggested. "Make the first move and send him a note. Not that anything was your fault, but you'll have nothing to blame yourself for later if he doesn't respond this time. It's still the point: make him respond to you."
She shrugged. "It's the least I can do," she quietly agreed, "for the effort he made this time."
"Do it for yourself, B'Elanna," Tom told her. "It won't be worth your bothering, otherwise. Speaking of which, drop by my quarters after dinner if you can. I've got something waiting for you there--if you still want it, that is."
Still staring up at him, B'Elanna colored a bit at his offer. Then she realized and laughed to herself. She'd completely forgotten about that. "Well, considering I'll be doing the work of three for the rest of the run, I might have to hold out for a fourth share."
Tom laughed and popped open the initiator cap. "Come on, B'Elanna, you'll be busier than that," he drawled.
"What?"
Catching the little gleam in his eyes when he glanced her way again, B'Elanna's stare shot back to the draw arm she'd just started on. Her gut pulled and her breath caught as the images, the sounds, all came rushing forward, as though they'd never left her. The green lawn on that cool, sunny day, the uniform, red and black, and him running backwards several steps, teasing his friend... And now that she thought about it...
"Never mind," he said.
She glanced over at him again and caught the remainder of his grin. Her breath halted. It just couldn't be...
But it was. It was him.
"You saw that?"
"Yes."
Tom leaned back in his chair, taking that memory off the shelf for the first time in a very long time, letting his chest flutter with the presence of that ghost. He and Cass jostling on the Academy grounds, like the kids they were...the kid he had been. She wouldn't have been fooling around if he'd not stolen her PADD and forced her to play. He always took particular delight in joshing her; she responded so well. She got him back on those damnably boring assignments, though, right down to the end. Right down to the end.
He really missed her sometimes.
With a sigh for the memory of his friend, Tom then looked at B'Elanna. She'd already pushed her renewed and signed contract back to him and was sharing a cup of tea before getting back to work. She probably didn't know about the smudge of sheering dust on her forehead, but her hands were clean and she'd checked her work vest at the door. After he got his paperwork done with, he'd be down there with her, starting on the ODN yet again. Another day on a run and a lot of business, still to come.
Her face was full of wonder just then, though, seemingly seeing him all over again. Though he knew he shouldn't mind being appraised so kindly, something in him didn't like that it was now connected to that past. That in mind, he told her, "It was a long time ago."
"It certainly was," she nodded, still piecing the memory and his present façade together, wondering why she'd never been able to. Also knowing the face of the friend who'd been killed, knowing her voice, made B'Elanna somehow sympathize with Tom's experience more. "It's always been such a vivid memory, but the whole time I've been here, I never realized that was you."
"It's not me," Tom gently replied, wrapping his fingers around his mug. He stared at it briefly before catching her gaze once again, his lips turning slightly up. "Not what made you remember, anyway. --That's okay. We all grow up eventually."
B'Elanna's smile reflected his for her own reasons. "I guess we do."
They were fifteen light years into the leg when the encrypted message pinged them.
Tom looked back from his seat. Maryl's frown pursed and she blinked her nod to him. "Yeah."
"Yeah," he echoed and waited patiently for Savan to decrypt the transmission.
That time, a dark-haired Bajoran with a colder glare than Tom ever knew on a woman filled the viewscreen. She scowled directly at Tom and started, "Chakotay might have given you a pass, but don't think for an instant that I have. Were it up to me, you'd have all been floating scrap months ago."
"You obviously haven't seen my ship lately," Tom replied.
"I'm still thoroughly convinced you've sold us out to Starfleet."
"Fine," Tom nodded. "Let us off your hook and we'll be on our way. You won't have any problems."
"You don't get things that easily anymore," the Maquis sneered.
"And space isn't as big as you seem to think."
"And so they happened by you en route to Starbase 310? I don't believe in coincidence."
Tom held her steady glower with as annoying a smirk as he could muster. "Neither do I."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Were he in the room, Tom was sure she'd have made a stab for him. He then remembered that she was the same Maquis he'd run across on Mesler's ship all those months ago. He snorted to himself. Little wonder she was pissed on top of paranoid.
"Look," Tom said, "I'm always happy to chat with you people, but I've got a date with a GNS module. What do you want?"
She released a slow, seething breath, almost forcing herself to get past her teeth what she likely was ordered to say. "You'll stop briefly at Sicira for deuterium. The vendor, Jissiki, will sell you what you need and contract a shipment to Volon with your liaison. You'll find out when you pick up your crates where you're going. I'll be watching you, Paris." With that, she cut the signal.
"So much for our vacation," he muttered, then punched in their new trajectory.
(c) D'Alaire M, 2007