Title: Guerdon.
Part: XI. What Comes Around. And around...
Author: D'Alaire M.
XI. What Comes Around
B'Elanna watched as the two Maquis gently transferred Tom onto the bunk he'd used on the way out--or at least the Vulcan did, slow to shift his burden and watchful over how Tom's discolored and lifeless arms were placed, he then draped Tom's coat over him again. The human-looking Maquis released the trader as quickly as possible, brushing off his hands when he moved back and away and noisily dragged the cot out of the quarters. The Vulcan remained behind to assess the man before him in what ways he could.
As Tom's lifeless form sank into the plain, thin mattress, B'Elanna leaned over to readjust his legs and tried not to make any sounds as she did so. She had a great deal of natural strength, but his limbs were like pure duranium. Or maybe she was more drained than she wanted to admit. Either way, his legs were straightened, and with a sweep of the tricorder she still had in her pocket, she could see that the transportation hadn't caused any more damage. Not that there was much more to do to him.
Brushing Tom's hair from his forehead with a cursory air, B'Elanna glanced back at the figure silhouetted in the stark ceiling light.
"You are also injured," the Vulcan noted.
"It's fine, a clean break."
"Nevertheless, you will be of better use to your captain and less burden on this crew, if the injury is treated. We have the necessary equipment."
She snorted. "I'm sure it gets a lot of use around here."
"Indeed." Eyeing her, he then asked, "I take it you are not a Maquis."
Her stare narrowed. "About as far from it as we can be without having been roped into helping you people."
He took that in with a blink. "Understood."
B'Elanna nodded rigidly, looking back to Tom. "I'll take that bone knitter, by the way. My captain's ribs need a better job, too."
"I will bring you the equipment presently," the Vulcan replied. "Also, I believe we may be able to find the Norshaka, which has a medic able to treat Captain Paris' injuries."
She looked at him. "Thank you," she said, meaning it that time.
He bowed his head slightly and left without reply.
The door lock wasn't difficult to reprogram. That old model ship and the lack of personal security there made it a simple matter to reinforce the entrance. B'Elanna backed swiftly away when it was done to hurry to the supply closet for the rations and recharged power cells the man had said she could use. She knew that anyone who wanted to get into those quarters could with the transporter, or could simply transport Tom out. Double sealing the door was what she could do, however.
The trip across the top deck, through the lateral corridor and empty crew mess to the storage on the other side, was not very long but decidedly unpleasant. The hard-faced, canvas and leather clad people she passed stared long at her, assessing her, perhaps even accusing her. In between them was the corridor itself, all gray, etched with orange LEDs and grounded with brown grate floors; all areas were lit at fifty percent at best, and a heavy chemical odor hung in the air. The rumblings of the systems behind the bulkheads echoed and ebbed, then pinged out again. It felt like a cave...or the recesses of a smelter.
B'Elanna's back remained arrow straight through the journey around the deck.
Checking the panel to make certain she had found the right place, she entered the code the Vulcan had given her and waited. The doors opened about eight centimeters. Looking around, B'Elanna stuck her fingers in and pulled them open the rest of the way. They squeaked and grinded in protest, but finally sank into the bulkheads. Inside the wide room was a haphazard collection of various ration packs, nutrition bars, scanning devices and cells for every kind of equipment possible--all an excellent diversion from her tension.
"Who stocks this place?" she breathed, beside herself that power supplies and food were kept in the same place. Thankfully, the rations were well sealed.
As she quickly scanned the cells for the models she needed, she heard the footsteps, then voices come into the mess.
"When will you be leaving?"
"As soon as this is done and the shuttle is repaired. --And I need you to take over that."
Seska and Chakotay, B'Elanna instantly knew and rolled her eyes. She was hoping to get in and out without meeting anyone. One of the two activated the rickety replicator on the other end of the room. It sounded more like a food slot.
"I'll see it's done right this time."
B'Elanna nearly squeezed her nails through the hard-sealed package in her fingers.
"Do you have any prospects?" the Bajoran then asked.
"A few. I shouldn't be gone long. Take the Liberty to Solosos anyway, train our new man in the new security routes."
"You think he's a fit?" she asked suspiciously.
"I've been getting to know him better. He's a standard expatriate, only that being Vulcan makes him more difficult to know. He'll fit in well."
"If you say so."
"I do say so. Also, try to get those fittings from Rodrigo."
"He won't have them," Seska insisted. "And you know I can do a lot more than sit around there."
"No," Chakotay said flatly. "You'll stay there and get the work done on base. The last time I let you run a raid alone, we almost died in the water for deuterium depletion."
"That was Jonas and you know it!" Seska snapped. "How long are you going to blame me for his mistake?"
"As long as you refuse to see that when you're in command, you're responsible for all the crew and my ship. You should have rotated the crew and picked up the stores as we'd planned."
"Even you said that was a great lead."
"That was before I knew you missed the pickup."
"Chakotay--"
"We're fighting to the death out here!" he retorted. "We were almost made the loser for that 'great lead.' I'll blame you as much as I feel it's necessary to prevent it from happening again. The hatch is on deck four forward when you stop wanting to accept it."
She breathed audibly, but calmed in the time it took her to exhale it back out again. "You know I don't want to find that hatch."
A pause. "I don't want you to, either."
"Good." Her footsteps followed the word.
Within the storage, B'Elanna's mouth had turned down, but she didn't bother thinking too much into it, aside from the fact that it was the best proof she had to date that Chakotay was indeed the captain. Seska gave the impression of control, while the captain seemed to know how to work with her, but he obviously knew where to cut her off, too. Not that it mattered as far as B'Elanna and Tom were concerned. Chakotay was still running that rig and had already made plenty of decisions that'd made their lives hell. Nothing told B'Elanna that he wouldn't again when it was convenient for him to do so.
Finally finding the last of what she needed, B'Elanna came out of the little room with three packs of rations under an arm and three cells stuffed into her jacket pocket. The doors slammed shut behind her and she slumped. So much for getting through here quietly. Straightening again, propelling herself forward, she turned the corner and saw Chakotay sitting at a table with a PADD and a glass of something reddish. She did not slow down, but offered a blink of acknowledgement as she went by.
"How is Paris?" he asked her.
Coming to a stop, she glanced back his way. "The same," she muttered, feeling her chest tighten.
"When we're clear of Nivoch, we'll be able to contact others in our sect, find someone who can do more for him."
She adjusted the rations as they started to slip in her arm. It was still a little weak from the treatment she'd had to apply herself. She hoped she'd done it right. "How long will that be?"
"We'll be out of the Badlands in ten hours, given your flight plan is as useful backwards." Watching her nod again and prepare to leave, he added, "I'll have Tuvok look in on you soon. He's new, so if you need anything and he doesn't know, you can contact me. But you can trust him."
B'Elanna frowned. Contacting the Maquis captain was possibly the last thing she wanted to do. Likewise, trusting anyone on that ship was not something she'd considered. Nodding, she continued on her way.
She quickly got the door open and went into the quarters not a minute later. Looking quickly at Tom, she released her breath to see him still in his place and breathing, still shallow but steady. B'Elanna half expected to come in and see him gone, having heard Seska go off before her.
He'd need another go with the regenerator within the hour.
She decided to eat first. She wouldn't want to later.
She jerked her head up from the mattress edge when she heard the door beep. "Yes!" she said abruptly. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. Shooting a look at the beeping tricorder beside her, she'd done so less than ten minutes ago. She sighed and forced herself to straighten.
She didn't ask when she saw Chakotay at the door, though she was mildly surprised that to see him running errands. He carried in two rectangular cases by the handles in one hand and a slightly apologetic look on his face. Her responsive expression wordlessly told him to say what he needed to say. Seemingly unbothered, he came in and dropped the boxes by the chair then stopped at the end of the bunk.
"I thought you'd like to have your toolkit back," he said.
She glanced at it. "Those aren't my tools," she said. "But thank you, anyway."
He smiled a little at her admission, but kept his interpretation to himself. Instead, he moved around to the other side of Tom and knelt down. Looking the younger man over then glancing at the dark-eyed engineer's protective stare, he stood again. "No change?"
"The treatments hold him where he is for the most part," she told him. "There are five small ruptures. Two are worse than the others; I need to watch them."
"Hopefully, we'll be able to find our friends as soon as we're clear." Chakotay continued to consider the other captain. "I have one of my technicians looking into the malfunction on the shuttle."
"The landing thrusters failed when my captain activated them," B'Elanna informed him purposefully. "I ran every diagnostic possible when I first got to look at that shuttle. There shouldn't have been a malfunction."
"You think there was sabotage?"
"I know there was," she stated.
Chakotay took it with a shrug, though he wasn't pleased to hear it. "Considering how many people on board weren't fond of Paris, I'm not surprised. That said, I will see that that if someone is responsible for tampering with the shuttle, they will suffer consequences."
"Someone already has," she returned. "Do whatever you like, Captain Chakotay, but it won't change what happened."
He nodded. "If it means anything, I admire your captain. From what I've seen, he's made good after having to walk through more than a few minefields."
"Fields made no less crowded by you," B'Elanna pointed out.
Chakotay's frown returned. "I'm trying to apologize for what happened, Torres," he quietly told her. "I don't need to, but I do take responsibility for the people I have working for me."
She exhaled with a shake of her head. "Look, if you came in here thinking I'd be receptive to anything besides, 'I have a doctor' or 'We're transporting you to the Guerdon right now,' that was your most recent mistake. I don't need your apology. I need someone to treat my captain's injuries, my ship flying alongside yours and a transport for my captain and me. That's it."
"I'm sorry you see it that way," Chakotay said, moving back around toward the door. Stopping before it, he looked at the diminutive woman once again. She was still seated on a stool beside the bunk, her emptied ration pack at the toe of a boot, glaring at him as though she were looking down at him, instead. Still wearing the sooty jumpsuit she'd had on the day before, she looked like she'd just crawled out from a warp coil scrub job, and was twice as tired. He thought better than to offer her a change of clothes. But her refusal to listen bothered him somehow, too, so he continued, "It's been a hard fight out here for us. We've lost everything but that--our worlds, our people, everything we had and believed in. Our fight's only begun, so consider yourself lucky to get any kindness at all. When I come here--"
"I'm sure your fight is important to you," B'Elanna interrupted, more annoyed with every word, "and I've never said it wasn't, so stop trying to sell me to it. Nice try, but there's no chance in hell I'm going along with it."
He frowned. "I'm not selling anything to you."
"Then stop assuming I'm interested in hearing your side of the story. We've had more than enough of your side of things."
"You and Paris have both made it clear that you're--."
"It can't be made clear enough," she snapped, "what you've done. We've been cleaning up after your 'good fight' for months and I'm sick of hearing how justified you are." Chakotay pressed his lips together as he let her words cycle in. True to his words, he wasn't so far gone, so embittered and angry, that he would come down too hard on a contractor's assistant who apparently had every reason to thoroughly hate him and everyone associated with him. The obvious strain of Klingon ancestry seemed to put even more ferocity into her assertions. He also knew he sometimes needed to hear dissention. Even so, it was good thing she was his guest. Had Torres been some random passer-by, he'd have gladly put her into a bulkhead for cursing the fight for which he'd sacrificed everything.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of palm-sized, cardboard paper. "You play much?" he asked.
She glanced at the neat stack of cards in his hand. She had thrown them to the floor when she saw him at the base. "No."
He blinked his attention down to it. "No, I guess not." Drawing a long, even breath, he set the deck on the table as he left the room.
"I'll be back," B'Elanna said quietly to the unmoving form in the bunk, knowing he couldn't hear her. She didn't bother looking back, but slipped the dead power cells into her pocket, stepped out of the doors and activated the lock code. Turning into the semi-dark corridor, she headed out to the storage room once again.
She wasn't particularly hungry yet, and she still had a couple hours before needing to administer another treatment on Tom. Now that they were both aboard the Maquis ship again and not going anywhere else for a few more days at least, there was only so long she could sit around and watch him breathe and twitch and feel little but uselessness, anger and resentment without the ability to vent.
Tom's color had gone from reddish to a kind of purplish sallow that made his past illness look not so bad. The tricorder's medical warnings were bothersome. Her spinning thoughts had become even more so. The Maquis ship was moving too damned slowly. She was incredibly bored and too tired to know how exactly tired she was anymore. She felt like she could sleep for a month, but knew she couldn't risk more than an hour. So, every few hours or so, she had to stretch her legs, get a grip and force herself to clear the fog from her head.
A short trip out wasn't a big deal in any case. Ten minutes. No problem. She propelled herself forward into the outer ring of the web-shaped deck, forcing herself to breathe deeply, clench and loosen her fists, roll her shoulders.
"Torres, just who I was looking for."
B'Elanna glanced up from her crossed arms to see the one person she was not looking for. "Seska," she said, mustering some measure of neutrality. After her conversation with Chakotay that afternoon, she remembered what Tom had said when they first came aboard, about having to work with those people to keep things going smoothly. No matter what she said, Chakotay would do what he wanted, and her bad attitude would only make things worse, not better. As usual, though, she didn't consider this until after an explosion. --Not that she was sorry for it. Captain Chakotay needed to know where she stood. She simply decided that she didn't need to repeat it. So, she decided to make some effort to reign herself in. Even so, she would have preferred not having to talk to anyone there again.
"How is your captain?" Seska asked, effectively stopping the half-Klingon in the corridor by standing directly in the middle of it. The woman meant to speak with her.
"The same."
The Bajoran let an appropriate pause pass. "Look, Chakotay talked to me about your feelings about us."
"He did?" B'Elanna said, hardly a question.
"Yes, and... Well, I apologize for pushing you so hard before, when you first came aboard. You and your crew have obviously seen everything negative about us, and you've suffered for it."
B'Elanna straightened. "We have," she confirmed.
"Desperation can be our worst enemy sometimes," Seska admitted, staring directly into her eyes. Holding her there a moment longer, she drew a new breath. "We have a few regrets on our logs, things we won't repeat for the consequences we understood only after the fact. I think you know what I'm referring to. But in the last few months, we've gotten ourselves organized, well-stocked and connected, and we only raid Cardassian supply ships now."
A shrug was B'Elanna's only reply.
"I know my feelings for Paris aren't positive," the Bajoran continued, "and I know I've done a great job of showing it, but even I have to admit he's done good work for us. You have, too. --This is the long way of thanking you before you leave for what you've done and apologizing for it being not worth everything you've been through in the end, with the base shift and all. I can imagine how infuriating that would be, on top of everything else that's happened. I'd have been livid, were it me."
B'Elanna continued to stare at the other woman, at first not knowing what to believe. Tired as she was, she could see that Seska showed every evidence of sincerity. Her tone and even her body language was completely non-confrontational. Maybe the woman did deserve some benefit of the doubt. "Thanks," she quietly said.
"Really, Torres. I'm not trying to 'sell' you, or however you put it to Chakotay. I hate that we can't convince you to get on our roster, and I wish I could show you what we do right around here, but that doesn't mean I'm ungrateful for what you've done."
"And I really meant thanks," B'Elanna replied, feeling her instincts crawl alongside her confusion that time. The last time she had spoken to Seska, her friendliness froze into threats in a turn. Thinking on that, she said, purposefully brusque, "I need fresh power cells. Do you mind getting out of my way?"
Seska did not deliver the response she expected. She instead moved immediately aside. "That's right. I didn't mean to keep you. You know where everything is, so just get what you need. See you later." The woman then walked away, not looking back.
B'Elanna was left in the dark, amber-lit corridor, furrowing her brow and wondering if that was worth trying to figure out.
"Later," she said to herself and started moving again down to the storage room, half expecting all the while to turn a corner and find someone else waiting in the way. No such person appeared, however, and she shook her head at her paranoia. Proper as it might have been there and then, it didn't make her think any more clearly. Tapping in the code for the door, she knew that time to stick her foot in and wedge the plates along their tracks. They opened with only a plaintive squeal that time.
Moving to the end of the shelves, she stacked up an arm with two meals she didn't bother trying to choose, a couple extra in the hope that Tom would be awake to eat one or two soon. Not that he'd likely be up for eating any of them, even if he miraculously developed an appetite in addition to regaining consciousness. From what she'd tasted of that batch of stolen nutrition, it was nothing to wake up to.
Hearing the squawk, B'Elanna pivoted with the rations clutched against her chest. She immediately found herself eye-to-eye with a handsome, brown-haired Maquis holding a tricorder and looking straight into her eyes. He did not smile or inspect what she carried, but he seemed to memorize her in a sweeping glance before speaking.
"Hi," he said.
"Hello," she replied and looked around him to an empty shelf where the power cells she needed had once been.
"I'm Bendera. Are you Torres?"
"Yes."
Confirmed, he gave a single nod. "Okay. Chakotay told me you'd be mousing around. Good to meet you." Had her hands not been occupied, he might have reached out to shake one. He settled on a short bow and a brief smile of welcome. "Don't mind me. I'm just getting the numbers on these last units."
"The cells I need aren't there. Do you know where they are?"
He breathed a laugh of confirmation. "Yeah, between you and Larson, the five-three-thetas've been taking a beating this week--and they're not too good to begin with."
Shifting the packs to one side, B'Elanna pulled the dead cells out of her pocket for him. "I noticed they wear down quickly."
"Problem with contraband," he said and tossed the cells into his bag. "No telling how much they'd been used before we got them."
"Have you tried replacing the sub-central diode?"
"That'd probably help," he remarked. "If we get our hands on anything we could use as replacement material, I might give that a shot. Thanks."
Reaching around him, B'Elanna checked the label on another cell unit, noted it was labeled incorrectly, then stuck it back where it'd been with a sigh. "I miss my stockroom," she grumbled, "even if it's probably as populated as this one is."
"I'll bet you're homesick," Bendera grinned wistfully. "I'd like to be able to get back, too."
She eyed him. "Don't tell me, you lost everything."
"No, just where we'd been living--but we hadn't been there long, to be honest. We've always been a little gypsy-like. But anyway, my family vacated to Betazed, which is safe and entertaining enough. At this point, though, I'd be dumped into the nearest prison if Starfleet spotted me, so Betazed's a no-go." He shrugged sheepishly. "They know my face." Choosing not to go into it further, he motioned to his bag. "You know, I can get you fresh ones now. The recharge unit's on deck three."
B'Elanna paused, considering the man's plain, friendly face. Unlike Seska, her skin didn't crawl at the sight of him...much the opposite, in fact. But she knew what waited for her in the next section. She had time before having to administer another treatment, but she didn't want to have to leave Tom right before one. "I need the five-three-t's and a set of dicosilium packs."
Bendera looked down the row. "Yeah, the packs are also on deck three. I can bring them up."
She smiled--a little, almost not wanting to. "Thanks. But I don't want to take you away from what you're doing."
"It's my job--for today, anyway," he grinned. "Come on, then, I'll show you, get you what you need. --Don't worry. Chakotay's been keeping the people you should be worried about busy."
B'Elanna stared at him, not certain whether to be grateful for the reassurance or put off by the fact that her and Tom's position there was such common knowledge.
Bendera laughed. "What? You think we haven't had to deal with reprisal problems before?"
With a shrug, she crossed her arms and followed him out and through the near-dark central corridor to the main lift. The squat bucket lift jerked a little when Bendera activated it, but otherwise lowered them without a jolt between the decks. It only served to remind B'Elanna of that nagging repair on the Guerdon she'd had at the end of her basic list, fixing that vertical deathtrap the Bolian builders hadn't installed right in the first place. It would make getting things up and down a lot easier, but B'Elanna and Ridge both had been fixed on other issues.
She sighed tightly, her fingernails digging into her palms. More things she never thought she'd miss: that never ending repair list, Ridge jogging her shoulder as he passed her in the lounge, Maryl snipping as she devoured the blue PADD, seeing Tom stroll down to the deck. His hair was always brushed cursorily with his fingers; his hands were stuffed in his pockets as his gaze found hers to say a good-natured, "Morning, B'Elanna," before getting on with what he needed...
B'Elanna hunched over a little, killing the thought as soon as her blood rose with it. "How far is this room?" she asked curtly, looking down the noisy, busy corridor when they got to it. She recognized it as the way to the shuttle bay.
Bendera pointed. "Just around this turn. You'll get back without a problem."
"Yes, we took this corridor when we were brought back here."
"You probably used the tube lift the other time, then."
"We did." It was small talk, but it helped. Mentally noting the location that time, she followed a full pace behind the red-vested man, willfully ignoring the attention she attracted just by walking down there. Hushed whispers between crewmembers raced behind her; some brushed shoulders with her, shooting her challenging or just curious looks. With another turn, they entered the recharge room and Bendera immediately crossed it to pull down a plate of packs from the wall unit. The cells were still in the charge pins.
B'Elanna looked around as she moved into the room. Like everything else there, it was in an inefficient space, as the main engineering block was a deck below and aft. She shrugged it off as before, though, taking the needed power cells.
Bendera handed her another set. "Take them," he insisted. "Larson won't be back on until first shift. You'll go through the first set before I'm able to stock on deck one."
B'Elanna nodded and stuffed them into the handled tray he also gave her. She set the other cells in. "Thanks, Bendera," she said and moved to leave.
"No problem," he replied.
She glanced back in at him. He was already back to work, as though she hadn't even been there. Shrugging to herself, she turned to go back to the lift. There was at least one person on the ship she knew to go to for the cells. That was something. Moving through deck three again, the industrial sounds of the ship in full shift, the rough voices and hollow clangs, surrounded her again without distraction. More crewpeople shouldered by, each of them looking at her, probably knowing more about what would happen to her and the patient two decks up than she did at that point. They said nothing, however. She was able to cross the middle section and get to the lift without being stopped.
Stepping off a minute later, she caught a waft of cold air from the environmental unit and shivered. The goosebumps on her arms hardly formed for all the grime on them, though. She slumped and plowed ahead, trying not to remember how long it'd been since she'd showered.
Her run-in with Seska crossed her mind again, and she furrowed her brow. Between her and Bendera's unadorned assistance, B'Elanna didn't know what to believe about them. She appreciated it when people leveled with her, even when it was something she didn't want to hear, so the Bajoran's approach certainly was a plus, and she had been straightforward about her feelings. But Seska's hatred of Tom and her quick to manifest acidity continued to tick in B'Elanna's head. Something in her eyes bothered her, as well. She couldn't put her finger on it...
She shook the thought aside, though. It wasn't anything she needed to deal with right away and nothing those people did or could do would ever change had had happened.
Stretching out her shoulders as best she could with the load inside of her arms, B'Elanna made her way around the corner in little time, drawing a full breath and mentally organizing what she needed to do and in what order.
Then she saw the light in the corridor--coming from what she was sure was her assigned quarters. At first, she froze, but then she moved forward, again, speeding to a run when her brain caught up with her instinct. Coming up to the door and cutting into the room, she only needed a glimpse at the tall man with the phaser to know what was going on.
"Get out!" she bellowed and charged at him. Just as he turned and his face reflected surprise, she jumped forward and whacked the weapon out of his hand, sending it clattering across the floor.
His other fist shot up and caught B'Elanna across the cheek, snapping her head to the side.
She immediately railed back with her elbow in his gut, then her fist into his chin. He came back on the rebound, though, catching her cheek again with a resounding smack. B'Elanna spun off to the door panel. Feeling her head pound and her eye instantly swell, tasting blood in her mouth, she shook her head and forced herself to focus. She did first on a small rectangle. Thinking quickly, she punched the comm code she'd been given, but hearing the man's footsteps, she turned again to face him again.
"This isn't over," he assured her.
"And you're not getting rid of us that easily," she returned.
"Not 'us,' but you'd better get used to the idea that Paris isn't going to make it."
"According to whom?"
"According to you if you want to survive, Torres."
A low growl rumbled in her throat as her hands balled up again. "You're not getting anything from me, you son of a bitch."
Before she could make a move, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to slam her against the entry wall. Her head smacked it with a thud. Pressing up against her, he leaned down to whisper into her ear.
"It's all up to you," he told her. "It might not be me and you might even get back to your precious junker, but Paris is no better than dust as soon as it can come about. Count on it. The Maquis will never let a man like that run free. You've just spared him a painless exit, is all."
B'Elanna sucked a breath and jabbed her elbow back into his ribs, throwing her fist down into his groin. He jumped back quickly enough that she instead whipped her other fist around and towards his face as hard as she could. She caught him in the teeth and jaw, spraying blood from his lips when they parted with a cry and shocking even herself for what she had done.
Immediately, he rallied, redoubling his previous strike with another hit to her cheek and pinning it and the rest of her to the wall once again.
Dropping to her knees, she was able to grab his leg and hurl him off his footing. He landed soundly on his back--but then shot a kick with his other leg directly into B'Elanna's arm. The still weak bone cracked upon impact. She cried out as she was thrown onto her other arm. "Damnit!" she screamed, her heart pounding and adrenaline pushing her up to her knees and a hand before she could think about it.
In a last burst of fury and determination, she lunged at the man again, damned if he'd win--damned if any of them would. Scrambling across with a kick, she knew throwing her other leg around could take out his knees again--
Two strong hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back.
"Let me go!" she hollered, kicking and struggling as best she could before the shock wore off.
But an instant later, Bendera jumped into the room, jerked the other man up by the collar and hurled him outside. A couple other men contained him and dragged him away.
"Take him to the brig!" Chakotay boomed from behind her.
Shrugging off his grip, she whirled around to indeed see Chakotay standing above her. "Until the next asshole who decides they'd like to have a stab at him!" she shot, backing up to the bunk behind her.
Calming as quickly as he'd exploded, Chakotay motioned to the Vulcan waiting outside. "Tuvok, you stand guard here. You can switch off with Bendera when you need a break. Arrange it however you like, but I want one of you on this door at all times."
Tuvok was decidedly displeased. "I do not think this duty would utilize my time efficiently, Captain."
"You don't earn my trust by complaining about my orders," Chakotay responded. "I need you here now and that is all."
The Vulcan's brow twitched. "Very well, Captain."
Bendera snorted as he moved around the new man. "Those snotty Starfleet really are the toughest to break, aren't they, Chakotay?"
He cracked a sardonic grin for that one. It melted a moment later as they moved to leave. "I need you to trade off with Washek. --Torres, let Tuvok help you with that, and let him know if you need anything. I mean it. This was the last thing I wanted to happen here."
She merely nodded, purposefully focused on picking up the cells she'd thrown to the ground as she felt her face swelling up and her stomach churn for having swallowed so much blood.
Chakotay waited until she met his eyes again and acknowledged his offer before going with Bendera.
B'Elanna turned back to the floor, scooting along it on her knees. So much for a relaxing evening, she thought, rolling her eyes to realize she was bloody on top of sweaty and filthy, and if she'd been below deck a minute longer, Tom would be dead. Her arm twitched uselessly at her side, a slicing pain that started to throb. Both times, the Maquis man knew right where to hit her. She instantly earned a great deal of sympathy for Tom on that score. He'd been a target of the same attention and had to hold onto his injuries, while she at least had a regenerator at her side. For the moment, though, getting the power cells back onto to table and reorganized seemed like a good idea if she was going to get the regenerator working at all for anyone.
"I can assist you in treating your injury," Tuvok said calmly, finally resigned to his assignment now that the other men had gone.
She shook her head. To her disgust, she knew she'd need to treat herself--again--before getting back to Tom. "It's fine," she thickly told him. "I can do it."
"It will be done more efficiently if you allow me--"
"And I'm saying I can do it."
The man looked at her for several seconds, letting silence fill the space around them and calm the room, before speaking again. "Ms. Torres, I will not harm you or your captain," he quietly promised. "I give you my word."
Blowing a breath, B'Elanna took her own long look at Tuvok. Then, she relaxed a little. Had she never known Savan, she might have thrown it back at him again. Thankfully, she did know the science technician and knew that Vulcans in any state of affairs made oaths as lightly as Klingons did. Moreover, she didn't want to have to mend her arm one-handed again. Finally, B'Elanna blinked, nodded, then found the right cell for that piece of equipment. Slapping the cell against her thigh to lock it into place, she handed him the regenerator.
"Thank you, Tuvok."
He directed her to sit on the nearby chair. "You are welcome."
What he still couldn't understand was why Fitzgerald did it.
Leaning back in the conn seat on his tiny, half-moon bridge, Chakotay stared at the stars flying by and puzzled over yesterday's events. Dalby, Larson and Jonas were easy suspects and on his watch list. Lishio and Jarvin hadn't done anything, but because of their history with various trade stations, Chakotay had assigned them to work deep within the ship as well.
But Fitzgerald? The engineering assistant shouldn't have had any interest in Paris, no real reason to go after him, anyway. Like most aboard the Liberty, he was a colony exile, had worked on a large exotic tree farm right out of technical school. He had no knowledge of Starfleet save that it existed and so shouldn't have had any score to settle--that Chakotay knew about, anyway. Paris did have a sardonic tendency that grated on the nerves. But to Chakotay's knowledge, Fitzgerald and Paris hadn't even had contact on the trip out, either--which was more troubling than the rest.
Naturally, he could never know everyone's agenda, but the attempted murder of an incapacitated guest was an agenda he should have been able to spot, or at least hear about. Seska usually saw to it that he knew about everyone's ins and outs. She hadn't been that busy. He would have to talk about that with her, see if maybe they'd missed something important.
It just wasn't like Fitzgerald--or he hadn't thought so.
Either way, the Maquis captain had easily chosen not to deal with the issue until that failed journey was finally completed. Fitzgerald could rot for another month for all he cared. Chakotay disliked most not knowing where people on his ship stood. Whether or not he liked what they thought, he wanted to know what was going on. Ignoring his direct orders, too, was not something he tolerated. Even if he was of a more lenient temper than other commanders he'd known, allowing that much freedom to that particular crew was parallel to suicide.
And then he remembered that he still had to figure out how so much had failed in the first place, from the Cardassian cruiser sniffing out their base's location within the Badlands to the shuttle malfunction, nothing but Torres' systems installation had seemed to go right.
There, he sighed. Seska was getting better, but he wished he had someone with half the ability as Torres. Seska certainly did, too. She would have done anything, he knew, to not be locked up in that engine room as she was. If given a week, he was certain the part-Klingon could easily rebuild half his ship, get it running more like it should. But after Fitzgerald's stunt, it was less likely than ever to happen. At that point, she'd probably disassemble half his engine if let near it.
Hearing the bleep, he looked over at Kinidar. The young Andorian gave him a nod.
"Maybe this will help," Chakotay said to himself and changed their heading.
"Yes?"
B'Elanna tried not to frown when the doors to the quarters opened and Seska walked in. She tried not to move in front of Tom, too, when the Bajoran curiously peered over at the bed. Instead, she folded the cards into a fresh stack and stood up.
Having seen what she needed to see, Seska gave the predictably sullen engineer her full attention. "I heard about what happened." She peered at Torres' face. "Tuvok fixed you up?"
"Yes," B'Elanna said with a nod. "He did a good job."
"Well, he's good for a few things, at least," Seska grinned. "Look, I don't have much time, so I won't waste yours, either."
B'Elanna suppressed a smirk. Not like my schedule's been tight lately.
"Before we get back to business, I thought I'd buy you a break."
"Excuse me?"
"Have you had a shower since you came on board?"
B'Elanna frowned. "No."
"That can't feel good. You should grab one now, while you can." Seska waved at the door, outside of which the Vulcan stood guard. "Your guard's here and I'll stand outside the shower." She nodded at Torres' unvoiced wariness. "I know, I know. About the last thing you want to do right now is trust anybody. But speaking as Chakotay's second and," she added more quietly, "as his lover, I'd be a fool and then some to fly directly against his orders and let anything happen to you or Paris."
Lessons learned from not following through at Solosos? B'Elanna wondered to herself.
"You need a break--and don't try to deny it. Get a shower, collect some fresh cells and rations, whatever--have a walk. Then you can get back to your captain a little freshened up. It's been a long week for you, and it'll be another three or four days before you're done with us."
B'Elanna measured Seska's straight expression. Indeed, something in the woman's eyes piqued her cautiousness. But for the second time, she was being straight, and indeed, being that close to a captain who had insured their safety there, Seska would have to be a complete idiot to cross him again. And B'Elanna really did feel like she was coated with glue, plus the leftover blood all over her jacket and jumpsuit, which wasn't something she enjoyed looking at...
"I won't have time to offer this again," Seska finished, a more plaintive look crossing her face that time...
"I appreciate it, Seska," B'Elanna finally declined. "But after what happened, I don't feel right leaving Tom here alone, even with a guard."
"I wouldn't worry--really, Torres. Chakotay has this whole section on surveillance, and it's Tuvok we're talking about. He'll cross-examine a dung beetle if it tries to crawl under the door."
B'Elanna grinned a little at the backwards compliment. "Don't you like him?"
"It doesn't matter if I like him or not," Seska replied. "But he's pedantic and slow, which annoys me. Not that people have to try hard to get me that way." She gestured toward the door. "Come on. I might not like him, but I'd trust him with the whole ship. We won't be long."
"You don't have to do this."
"I know that," replied the Bajoran, a little annoyed, then. "This is called a favor, not an order. You don't want it, say so and I'll do something else. But I thought I'd give you a break while I had a chance and because I feel bad about what happened here and that you have to trudge around filthy. No one needs to live like that, especially when you have better things to worry about."
Finally, B'Elanna released her breath and gave a nod. Even if Seska still made her uneasy, she knew she could rely on Tuvok. His care of them had been steady and polite, and he had been watchful. When she needed something, his arrangements were quick and effective--and he was still new. Turning to lean over Tom, wave the tricorder over his lifeless body to make sure nothing was progressing more quickly than before, she straightened and followed Seska out.
"I'm taking her to wash up," Seska told the Vulcan at the door. "We won't be more than... What do you think, Torres? A half hour?"
"Sounds right," B'Elanna shrugged. She almost asked Tuvok to look in on Tom, but hoped her stare would convey her caution well enough. Part of her did want it, another part of her wanted no one in there with him. Sighing, she set off after Seska on the short trip down the dark, orange-lit corridor to the shower room.
Seska stepped inside and checked the stalls. "No one home," she gladly confirmed, then took a seat out on the entry bench. "You go ahead. I'll wait here."
With one more look Seska's way, B'Elanna finally took a stall and pulled off her jacket as she toed off her dirty boots, dropping them on the seat outside the entrance. Pulling the rest of her clothing off and setting them atop the rest, she set the shower for a full job, closed the gate and activated the sequence.
She breathed deeply as the pulses found her skin without interference. That was a real shower, unlike the low-powered quick jobs she didn't get much out of at the base. At the same time, she felt somewhat guilty that she enjoyed it so much--and then couldn't enjoy it so much, wondering if she'd been fooled into leaving Tom behind, giving them a window to cut him off...
She shook her head. Chakotay would have Seska's head if she really was up to something... But what if she'd changed his mind? No, he did know when to put his foot down, and B'Elanna believed he was sincere about making sure Tom was protected. Seska really was trying to make good, though it seemed a little against her will. Maybe Chakotay put her up to being friendlier. Either way, she was making every effort.
B'Elanna leaned her hands against the wall and stretched her back. It felt better than it should have. She drank it in regardless. It'd probably be a long while before she could get another. She could have fallen asleep leaning against that wall. The end cycle beeps snapped her attention to the control unit, however.
When the shower at last deactivated and she stretched herself out again, she opened the stall gate and found her clothes on the chair. They had been refreshed and neatly folded. Even her jacket was spotless and pressed. Grinning a little at the surprise, she got herself dressed again, ran her fingers through her curls. She hadn't had the time to set the sonic shower that far--not that it mattered. Then she noticed there was only one boot below. Looking under the chair, she guessed Seska might have dropped it.
Then her heart beat again. Maybe it was a trap. Maybe they needed her to be off balance, unable to run on the hard grate floor...
But when she stepped carefully out of the stall area, she found Seska sitting on the bench with a pocket blade and her other boot, winching her broken boot hooks. They'd caught on the chair frame when the shuttle crashed, and she hadn't gotten around to fixing that yet. But with a puff of breath and a deft wrist, the Bajoran turned the metal back into the loops just right and nodded with pleasure when it was done. Then she looked up.
"Done already?" she said and held up her project. "So is this."
B'Elanna sat down by her and took the boot. "Thanks," she said, putting it on and hooking the latches with a few flips. They held perfectly. She looked at Seska's little blade before she tucked back into its holding and slipped it into her pocket. "I can't believe you got them back in place with that little knife."
"Growing up in a work camp, you learn how to fix just about anything with almost nothing," Seska explained, a proud, quirky smile stuck to the corner of her mouth.
B'Elanna nodded, realizing for the first time that Seska likely had much the same upbringing as Maryl did, which said a lot about her low tolerance. When she thought about it, she realized that Maryl put up with very little, too, and was quick to temper and to act. Only having a relatively safe place to live and an affable husband had given the Guerdon's contract liaison room to relax. Seska, living on the border with Cardassians pressing in, didn't have that luxury.
She seemed pleasant enough there, though, as she stood and motioned to the door. "How about grabbing those supplies, then? They'll be breaking for dinner soon if they haven't already. You'll want to get back."
B'Elanna nodded her agreement and followed Seska out.
Taking a different route per Seska's suggestion, she could just make out Tuvok in the same position at the door before they turned off to cut through the deck one midsection. Relaxing, she sped to match Seska's pace, and together they made good time to the crew mess. The lighting had been dimmed a little to cast an amber glow around; more relaxing, perhaps, for the few people there. A few more stood at the little replicator, ordering drinks to go with their ration packs. All of them were typically rough for the wear, though obviously not born to be. Fine featured and looking a little shell-shocked, the human crew in particular struck B'Elanna. She could see any of them teaching, doing research or simply raising a family on colonies that probably didn't exist anymore.
"You coming, B'Elanna?"
She snapped her attention back to Seska. "Yes," she said and strode across to the storage room.
Seska opened the doors for her and walked through for the rations. "I'd ask you what you'd prefer if any of them were any good," she smirked.
B'Elanna grinned. "I think they all taste alike after a while."
Seska laughed and stuffed a few packs into a sack. "Are the right cells there?"
"A couple. I'll need more later."
"I'll have Bendera bring them by when he comes back to the bridge."
"Thanks." Tucking the power cells into her jacket pocket, B'Elanna led the way back out and accepted the sack from Seska when it was handed to her. The mess had about twenty people in it now, most only drinking from mugs just then, leaning back in the sparsely built chairs, listening to others as they talked, a low hum, almost sad, maybe tired, maybe wanting. Maybe it was all of those things. But they all seemed to have the same condition, whatever it was.
The hum filtered, built and ebbed, then ebbed some more as a particular sound made its way through their voices: a song, hummed softly, aimlessly, off in the corner. A tall, dark-haired man with dark, distant eyes sat across from another man and his mug, just humming. He continued as though he didn't notice the others were listening--and perhaps he didn't. He was in a world of his own, though the rest of his world had stopped to take him in.
Again, B'Elanna needed to snap her attention back to an intently watching Seska. Frowning, she passed the woman on the way out. Cutting through the middle of the ship again, she was deposited at her door a minute later.
"I'm glad we could get that done," Seska smiled, offering a nod to Tuvok as she stepped back a pace, then two. "I'll be buried in the engine room, but if you run into a wall, Torres, contact me and I'll see if I can do anything."
"Thank you," B'Elanna said with a nod. As soon as the Bajoran was gone, she glanced at a curious Tuvok, then passed him to get back into the quarters and set the sack on the table.
"I briefly examined Captain Paris," Tuvok informed her, peering into the door, "during your absence. His condition has not changed."
B'Elanna picked up the tricorder anyway and slapped in the fresh cell she'd collected. The old one wasn't dead, but she knew it would be soon. "I was half-hoping you'd check on him."
"Your respite was useful?"
"I'm a lot cleaner, that's for sure," she grinned.
He blinked, turning his stare askance, reexamining the guest as she watched the piece of equipment reload. "Indeed."
The doors closed, and B'Elanna knelt on the floor by the bunk to give Tom a full sweep with the tricorder. True to the Vulcan's words, there was no change in his condition--or at least he would need another regenerator treatment no sooner nor later than the last time. That would be in another hour, by the tricorder's estimate. She would check him again in twenty minutes just to be sure. It was becoming routine at that point.
Routine.
B'Elanna sighed. There was no way what they were going through was routine. Tom's condition wasn't a routine, her being stuck there with him wasn't a routine. She growled at herself for once again clutching to the dependable, even the predictable. She often thought she was addicted to order. The first thing she noticed in a room full of people was the broken LED.
Setting the tricorder aside, she reached out and touched Tom's head, then drew back. She touched his arm, furrowing her brow.
She hadn't noticed when she was filthy how dirty he was.
Now she was clean. "A lot cleaner, that's for sure."
Slumping, she closed her eyes as the guilt did its work on her. It had a lot to do. Breathing through it, she blinked, straightened and looked over at the shelf. She got to her feet and retrieved the small medkit there. Finding a pack of fiber compresses and a cleansing solution, she then grabbed a water tube from her ration supply and returned to the bed.
"Better late than never," she said softly and wetted a compress.
He found the young woman sitting on the floor with her head pressed against Paris' leg, her short, dark mop of hair flung in all directions. It was fluffy and clean, and her clothes had been refreshed, too. He nodded with satisfaction that Seska indeed had gone through with his suggestion. A deactivated regenerator was still in her small, strong hand. Her re-mended arm hung laid along the edge of the mattress. A half-empty water tube sat at her knee. Her face looked oddly at peace there. Chakotay couldn't help his grin.
"That's loyalty," he said with a nod.
"That's bloody exhausted," Bendera grinned and moved to kneel next to the engineer, setting a portable power unit on the floor by her. "Torres."
"What?" she whispered, not yet awake.
"You're having some company," he told her. Backing off an arm's length just in case, he gave her shoulder a little shake.
B'Elanna was startled into consciousness and jumped back to see Bendera, then Chakotay behind him. Neither blinked. "What is it?" she demanded, then shot a look to Tom. He was very still. Coughing out her breath, she pressed her hand against his neck. His skin was cold...
She felt a beat, then another.
She released her breath.
"The medic from the Norshaka's collecting his gear and transporting over," Bendera told her, nodding when she looked back at him.
"They'll fly in tandem as long as we need," Chakotay added.
B'Elanna had already gotten up on the side of the bunk again with the tricorder. "When will this medic be here?" she asked.
"Within the hour," Chakotay told her.
"And he can treat his injuries?"
"He was an local area clinic nurse and emergency medic for fifteen years before his colony was given away to the Cardassians."
"I didn't ask for his resume," B'Elanna snapped. "I asked if he could take care of my captain."
Chakotay coolly replied, "Yes. He can."
"Thank you."
Bendera gave the engineer a friendly nod and joined Chakotay in the corridor. "Too bad she's got a job, Chakotay," he said as they moved away. "She'd fit in just fine around here."
"Too bad for you," B'Elanna said under her breath, though a small smile found her. Looking at Tom's drawn, pale face, she felt her heart quicken to imagine hearing his voice again and his intent blue eyes fixing on hers. No matter what it meant, no matter how uncomfortable her feelings were making her lately, she just wanted him back. The rest--getting back to the Guerdon, getting back to work and deals and station stops--would come as it would. She'd deal with her own issues some other time. Getting him back was what she wanted and it suddenly looked like that might happen after all.
She hardly stirred for the forty-eight minutes she waited, half expecting some tragedy to befall him at the last minute. Even when she told herself she was being an idiot, she couldn't make herself move.
It was just a little more time...
Without warning, they entered. First came a scruffy man with wiry red hair and a straight stare that set upon his patient as soon as he entered. The moment he set down his medkit, Tuvok followed, rolling a stack of equipment ahead of him and a frown that made B'Elanna appreciate Savan all over again. Tuvok looked as incensed as a Vulcan could manage.
"Right over here, Tuvok," the man told him. "Yes, that's fine. Stick around. I'll need you." Ignoring the embers that floated behind Tuvok's eyes at that, the medic finally acknowledged B'Elanna's presence. "You're Torres?"
"Yes," she said.
"May I see your tricorder? Has it been recording?"
"This one has. I don't have the first one I was using anymore."
"That's fine." Taking it, he read quickly through the log, nodding to himself. "Yes, pretty typical impact bleeding. Five ruptures...Hmm, small tear...more damage along the anterior... Yeah, he's probably not feeling too good." He slapped the tricorder shut. "Let's see what I can do." Looking back at Tuvok, he added, "We just broke off with the Casiat en route."
B'Elanna jerked her head up. The Casiat!
"Contact its captain and tell her I'll need those medical units after all. Tell her to put them on her tab."
"I assume she will understand your meaning?"
"She'll know. We just talked a few hours ago. Tell her it's an emergency with a civilian. That might speed her up a little. For now, I can start on the upper bleeders, the big ones."
B'Elanna continued to stare at the medic as he got what equipment he did have organized. Dejin's in, too? she thought, not shocked once she gave it a little thought, though her chest shrank a little to put together those pieces. A few months ago, Dejin had been prepared for the possibility, much as she disliked it. "Pride isn't worth a pile of crap when you're cleaning blood off your bulkheads," she'd said. B'Elanna wondered what all they'd been through to make her finally acquiesce, wondered if Dejin had needed to clean up much blood first, as they had on the Guerdon. B'Elanna was most curious to know if Dejin figured out what Tom had been forced to do.
All of those thoughts swirled as the medic opened up his own tricorder and started running some preliminary surgical scans. B'Elanna planted herself at the end of the bunk, out of his way but ready if he needed something. Or at least she couldn't make herself step away, even when he set up the laser scalpel and gave her a glance.
"You can sit down for now, Torres. Even after Captain Hirro delivers the units, it's going to be a long one."
"I've been sitting long enough," she replied.
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
She couldn't tell how many hours had passed, only that it had to have been a few. One minute melded into the next, into another and another as the patient was opened and prodded and scanned, then prodded some more. The passage of time became increasingly numb, hardly memorable, save the commentary from the medic, who dictated a scoreboard of damage that should have been easy to fix if only...
She quickly tired of that line of doctoring. "Sorry if I hadn't gotten the holographic hospital online in time," she'd snapped at one point.
"It's just for my records, Torres," he informed her.
"What could've helped days ago without you there isn't anything that matters right now," she returned. "Score your ego points on some other field."
His mouth pursing into a sour frown, he continued his work more quietly, glancing to her glare when he needed to record another note.
A couple hours and a meal break after that exchange, B'Elanna finally gave up her position at the end of the bed, feeling a cramp in her leg twinge dangerously. Shaking it out, walking it off, she stopped at the window to stare out at the Norshaka. It was larger than the Liberty, long and dark, like a capsule with nacelles. B'Elanna didn't recognize the origin. She'd have said it was Barolian had it not been for the color and the length. Not that it mattered, but her mind naturally went there, an easy diversion.
Then, a far finer ship appeared from the black. In typical hotshot style, the unmistakable half-moon tradeship Casiat popped out of warp at a reckless proximity and, at full thrust, turned swiftly to stick itself between the two Maquis ships.
B'Elanna breathed a little laugh at that. Definitely Dejin.
Its warp drive was abruptly shut down. With a burst of thruster power to set itself more neatly into place, the Casiat then came to a rest. Then, nothing. Not even a light blinked. In fact, with further examination, B'Elanna could see the trail lights were on half-power. The ship didn't look damaged in any way, so she was probably just trying to conserve energy. B'Elanna pursed her lips. They probably were running low on materials, too.
A minute passed, then a circle of energy spun within the middle of the room and left behind a portable surgical carton and a corresponding regenerator unit. The medic motioned Tuvok to drag it over as soon as the transporter beam dissipated.
"Open the surgical flat and set it on this table," he ordered. Tuvok did as asked. "Torres, sanitize your hands. I'll need you to hold the viewplate for me."
She looked back from the window to a sight she knew she'd rather not commit to memory. The medic had reopened Tom's incisions and had spread his midsection precariously open. "What?"
"So I can see inside of him." The medic looked tiredly at her from the open belly of his patient. "If you want him alive, just do it. Buck it up and don't ask."
Her eyes narrowed at the cold simplicity of the medic's logic, but she returned to the other side the bed with her lips pressed together. Grabbing the sanitizer and running it over her hands and upper body, she set it down again to grab the plate that was handed to her. To her relief, the medic punched a couple keys on the side, which released tripod legs. She could see why he needed her to keep it steady, though. The legs weren't sturdy on that uneven surface. She didn't bother to try to figure out why the designer hadn't considered mattresses when he put that model through. She merely concentrated on looking at the medic and hoping the man was all Chakotay said.
"He's in bad shape," the medic told her as he organized his protocols and equipment. Giving her a slightly more sympathetic look, he then offered, "Your regular treatments kept him going when most would've expired a couple days ago at best. What you've done saved his life, Torres."
She nodded, settling herself on what she needed to do. "I appreciate that. Thank you."
She still didn't look down when the medic activated his laser scalpel and set into Tom's open flesh.
Her head pressed against the viewport, B'Elanna opened her eyes to see Dejin's ship again. Over an hour ago, she'd been released from the bedside, but she could do nothing but return to her place by the window, closing her eyes in a half-sleep until she heard the medic's words.
"Tell the Casiat it's free to go now," said the medic to the comm after patching through to the bridge.
Her eyes opened, but she didn't look back.
"*Understood,*" came Chakotay's voice over the tinny speaker. "*So he's all right?*"
"He'll need to remain medicated and in bed for a couple more days while this old tissue knitter finishes my work and he'll need some follow-up treatment, but, yes, he'll recover under those conditions." When the comm patched out, the medic loaded a hypospray and pressed it to Tom's neck. "Starting now."
The hiss of the hypospray felt loud in the room, then it silenced completely.
The medic waited patiently, then grinned when his patient finally responded.
Finding a path through the pain and confusion, Tom first felt the unbearable weight of...something. His whole gut felt like it had an anvil on it...and the rest of him felt like it was floating. Recognizing the feel of a hard mattress...then the look of a second tier bunk above him, he suddenly knew he wasn't. He blinked heavily, tried to pull a deeper breath, but the heaviness still prevented that. Finally, he realized he was in the Liberty's guest quarters. He blinked to focus on a red-haired man above him, who was busy looking pleased with himself and waving a medical tricorder wand up and down. Tom blinked again, slowly, forcing his eyes back open.
Letting his stare fall toward a figure in the corner of his eye, he found B'Elanna leaning against the window, her face set with a sad sort of wonder he didn't really recognize. He felt his blood stir to see her nonetheless, messy hair, lumpy jumpsuit, rigidly crossed arms and all. When last he saw her, he wasn't sure he would again. Actually, he was all but sure he wouldn't.
Another rare time in my life I'm damned grateful to be wrong.
When last he saw her, he'd faded unwillingly, yet was unwilling to tell her his fears. She didn't need that. He didn't want her to carry that along with everything else. But that wasn't the case now, and so he stared at her, knowing he'd beat the odds--again.
One of these days...but not today... And so here we are again.
For her part, B'Elanna had finally allowed herself a long sigh of relief. It wasn't often she could admit to being drained, but she was pretty close to it at that point. The brief nap Bendera had woken her from had done her no favors. She was beyond physical restlessness, too, which by all right she should have been feeling, considering her lack of actual activity over the last several days. So, she'd slept a little against the window, waking to the view of the Casiat.
Dejin's ship had remained neatly by the Norshaka for the duration of the surgery, but upon that completion and receiving its release, B'Elanna watched the Casiat smoothly turn, move away, then pop into warp, glad to be on its way for all its preamble. The irony left B'Elanna shaking her head. She couldn't help but wonder what Dejin was thinking just then, and if she knew or would ever know how she'd come to the aid of her old friend once again. She wondered if she should inform her sometime. A moment later, she hoped they'd be all right, walking the same line the Guerdon had.
She heard a very familiar breath, stronger, poised on a word but not quite there yet. Turning her head, she saw Tom's eyes on her, blue and steady and everything she remembered and hoped to see again. The tiniest smile touched his lips. Feeling her heart rate double, she returned the same.
"It's about time you showed up, Captain."
He pulled a long, slow breath, offered the tiniest shrug. "Got sidetracked," he whispered before the medic moved into his view.
Closing her eyes as she drew a slow, full breath, B'Elanna turned back to the window.
"I owe you my thanks, Captain Chakotay," Tom whispered.
Still flat in the bunk, the few hours of conscious rest had done a lot of good in clearing his mind and gathering some strength--enough to talk, at least. Naturally, by the time he was ready to sleep again, Chakotay was there for his own visit. Tom had to give the captain that. His timing was on the ball...though he did do right by him. Any simple terrorist could have easily left Tom to rot; after B'Elanna told him about the base, he knew even more that Chakotay had taken a full extra week out of his way for them and then changed course to get him a medic.
Tom knew how he would feel, being in charge of a ship and having to reroute to help someone he had no real need of. In fact, he'd been doing that a lot lately, he realized with a tiny smirk. Though his feelings for the Maquis hadn't suffered any improvement, Tom would never take the captain's efforts for granted.
Chakotay nodded, allowing himself a satisfied grin despite the business he had forming on his bridge. "I'm glad we were able to get the right person for the job quickly."
"Me too."
Chakotay watched Paris' eyes drift off and close, so he backed up and returned his attention to Torres, who kept herself busy preparing the hyposprays the medic had left with her. "Tuvok should be back in a couple hours and I might need him and Bendera later. You have everything you need?"
"We're fine for now," she told him. On a second thought, B'Elanna looked up and met his eyes that time. "Thank you, for everything, Captain Chakotay."
"You're welcome," he returned, glad he could say those words. "I can try to arrange another person for you, someone I trust, if you need another break. Being locked up in here can't be easy--"
"You don't have to go through any trouble for me," she interrupted, assuring him. "If I can spend as much time in the cockpit of a shuttle, I'll survive this."
Chakotay grinned. "Yes, you're right." He leaned against the doorjamb, then. "We've been looking over the shuttle flight data. What you two did to shake that Cardassian cruiser was nothing short of incredible. I almost wish I'd been there."
"That was Tom," B'Elanna told him.
"Charging up a plasma stream on an inverse spin," Chakotay recalled aloud, "getting them close enough and using the plasma and phaser fire to create a magnetic thrust. I had to read it twice to believe it."
She also smiled, remembering that much of their journey with some satisfaction. "Well, someone once told me he was a crack pilot."
"Guess you never read his record, then," Chakotay said. "Paris didn't miss a single accolade at the Academy. He was ranked over and above One-A Flight Controller. That's not a throwaway title, nor was his degree in astrophysics. He had an impressive education."
"Yes," B'Elanna said, a bit chagrined that she'd not looked as far into Tom's record as that Maquis captain had.
"I'm not surprised he could run those maneuvers then," Chakotay continued, "but after five years of drink and putting along the trade route, that he still could handle an alien shuttle like a two-man scout ship was very impressive."
The rest of the trip came back to her at that. She looked at the captain again. "Did your people ever find out what happened to the reverse thrusters?"
"There was a problem with the gravimetric plates," he answered, "but we don't have all the details yet. We're monitoring some potential action, which means we have to put the shuttle investigation aside for a while. But we will find out how the accident happened. I need to know if you're right and there is a saboteur on this ship."
B'Elanna paused as that filtered in. It made complete sense that it was in his interest to know what had happened to the shuttle he'd likely had to buy, or call in favors to get, but he did look sincere in his own right. Either he held up a good façade or he really had been duped by someone on the crew. She didn't know which instance to hope for more.
"Well, thanks again," she said, laying out the hyposprays. "I need to finish preparing these injections."
With a slight bow of his head, Chakotay backed off a couple steps and exited the quarters, ordering the computer to seal the doors on his way out.
B'Elanna watched them close behind his sturdy frame, a little surprised he went as quietly as he did, though to her memory he'd never really been loud. His presence was strong, but he seemed to prefer a soft approach. It was an effective combination.
She still couldn't say she trusted any of them, but she couldn't make herself hate them anymore. She wanted to. She thought about Jerod and all the pieces he ended up in because of them. She thought about the holes in the Guerdon's hull she had to patch and all the other harried repairs as they blew them apart, bit by bit. To her surprise, she found it difficult to will up the knot of indignation she'd felt before. Recalling Chakotay's frank expression and knowing he'd gone well out of his way to get Tom what he needed--not to mention pick them up, then remembering everything his circle had done for them, too, done for her...
She almost liked them.
Maybe there was an ulterior motive. They'd long been set up for bigger and more complex jobs. On the other hand, Savan was probably right in that they weren't really out to kill Jerod, or even take the Guerdon out completely. They took them to the brink, but she honestly couldn't say what would have happened in the end. --That didn't make what they did right and she was no happier about their effect on the Guerdon, but it made the whole matter a lot grayer.
She shook her head again. Hating them was easier.
"B'Elanna?"
She looked over. Tom had awoken and was gazing at her. "I thought you were asleep," she said. A breath, the slightest shrug, was his only reply. His color was vastly improved, she could see, almost normal. Having had plenty of it, he probably didn't need to sleep as much as stay still. But he did look drawn, probably for not having eaten. On that thought, she asked, "Are you hungry yet?"
"Maybe soon," he answered, roughly for an unused voice and all the drugs swimming in his bloodstream--one thing antique he could definitely do without. What he'd have done for a one-shot deal via Starfleet just then. A real sickbay never looked more inviting. Not that he was sorry for what he had. The pain was being managed and he was on the mend, and so he did feel like an ass for grousing, if only to himself. "Still catching up with the living world."
"How about some water for now?"
He blinked a nod and got a sip of cool water a few seconds later. Running his tongue through his wetted mouth, closing his eyes as that simple sip charged half his body, he tried for another deep breath, a slight stretch. He felt like he indeed had been on his back for almost six days. He really looked forward to being able to be turned onto his side. The regenerator pads would prevent that for another day at least, according to the medic who'd patched him up. "I've been meaning to ask how it's been here. Chakotay seems...solicitous."
"It's been all right." She shrugged. "There was an incident, but he took care of it." She pulled the chair over to sit by him. "They've actually been very good to us. It's not what I expected."
"Hmm," he breathed, thinking about that. Catching her unsure expression, he could immediately tell they'd indeed been very nice to her. "Much as I hate him for getting us here, I think Chakotay's honest," he ventured. "He's dedicated, but he means what he says. Though, he knows when and how to throw compliments around, work to a point."
She breathed a little laugh to have that confirmation, then added, "Even Seska's been making the peace."
Pausing, he looked at her askance. "Do you believe her?"
"I don't know," B'Elanna shrugged. "She seems real, and she's assured me they don't have any hidden plans for us, but something about her doesn't feel right, picks at me the wrong way."
"It should," Tom replied, but let it go. B'Elanna was smart enough to figure those people out for herself and probably could more readily, having been up and around for both of them. He trusted her judgment. "How long to the rendezvous?"
"Two or three more days. They've been busy with some possible 'action,' as Captain Chakotay calls it. I'm sure we're going to be delayed again."
"It'll give these pads time to do their work," he said, then frowned through a sigh. "God, how useless I've ended up being out here."
"I told you before," B'Elanna replied, "it's not something you could help."
"Doesn't mean I like it, B'Elanna," Tom returned, but then closed his eyes, shook his head. "Sorry. It's frustrating. I've never been down this long. Sick, but not down, and especially since you're here, too." Weakly lifting an arm as he opened his eyes again, he set his hand on his abdomen. One of the units sat in the middle of his belly, bleeping and emitting pulses every half-second. It was only one of four annoying tapping feelings inside his body, combined with all the rest. "I remember these things from the medical history files I used to poke through in high school. They work, but it'll be good to get them off."
Reminded, B'Elanna leaned forward on her elbows. "Dejin delivered them, Tom," she told him.
He blinked his attention back to her. By her serious expression, he knew he'd heard it right. "She was here?"
"Not on the ship, but the Norshaka had been dealing with her, so they knew she had the supplies you needed. She transported them over and probably didn't know we were here. The Casiat left when you were revived."
Tom took that in, nodding with resignation. "I can't say I didn't expect she'd be tagged," he whispered thoughtfully, "but I'd hoped she could have steered clear on this one." He sighed and turned his eyes to the bottom of the upper bunk. "I wondered why she hadn't returned my communiqué last month. She's probably been stuck out here--and pissed as hell about it. I probably don't want to hear back from her right now."
B'Elanna snickered, remembering how she'd flown her ship in on a skid--in retrospect, she was probably aiming for the Norshaka. "I'll bet you're right."
He leaned back at that, breathing against his tingling muscles and feeling for a few seconds like a giant, unscratched itch. Peering over at the side table, he noticed the hypospray set. "Is it almost time for those?" he asked.
She picked up the tray. "It'll take a few minutes to get them ready. Are you feeling it?"
"Not right now, just the pads. But the injections help."
Nodding, she set the power cells she needed in the correct order. For all her usage time over the past few days, she was pretty well able to predict by then how long she would use them before having to switch them over. She frowned at the number. "I'll have to get with Bendera again," she said, more to herself, though she added for Tom, "He's been helping me with the recharged power cells."
"Another helpful crewmember?" Tom queried, half an attempt at lightness...the other half, he realized, a test to see if she'd enjoy a little teasing.
"Like I said, they're dropping everything they've got to lend me a hand," B'Elanna archly replied. "I should get half the good service on my own ship." Hearing him chuckle, she smiled, too. "No, the people Chakotay assigned to us have been good to have around, considering half the ship's a bunch of insulted colonists and the other half a flock of outcast Starfleet."
"Including Seska," Tom noted.
B'Elanna furrowed her brow. "She was in Starfleet?"
"The Academy," he softly confirmed. "Read it before we came here. She dropped out after a year, about ten years ago. Been floating around the border since."
"God, did anyone out here graduate Starfleet Academy besides you?"
Tom's grin grew. "Captain Chakotay did."
Rolling her eyes, B'Elanna leaned up to continue preparing his medication. "That makes me feel better."
She'd given up her chair for the floor as the talk returned to what they needed to get to when they got back on the Guerdon. She hoped aloud that Savan and Maryl had been able to scrounge up some deuterium after all--or at least a deal that'd help them to some. They also were in great need of drive plasma, warp coil casings, vent sockets and a number of other "small" parts that suffered the greatest wear on the long, high-warp hauls. Ridge was supposed to pick up a gross of parts when they crossed Gimol Station again en route for Deep Space Nine.
Tom was anxious to get to Hidirin, not just for getting back on the track. He was also very curious to see how conditions were on the other side of the border. For that reason and some, he regretted they'd miss their usual stop at Minjau that time around the route. Because of their schedule, they'd be flying a direct trajectory from Hidirin to Podala, even crossing through the Kimoa Range on the way. A little grin crossed his mouth. Maybe they should blast through Sila's range and contact her a couple days after the fact to ask authorization. For all the waits she'd put him through...but then, he did have to deal with Sila on occasion. Pissing her off wasn't very useful...though thinking about it was fun.
"She's the one who bought Mesler's barge, right?" B'Elanna asked.
"What was left of it," Tom answered.
A smirk curled B'Elanna's mouth as she leaned her head on her hand. "I wonder if anyone's been desperate enough to buy it yet."
Tom chuckled. "I'll put a bid in on it if you want. It's Barolian. We could use some of its pieces. Fifteen strips sound about right?"
"Way too much," she replied. "For that matter, I never want to work on that ship again."
After a scheduled stop at Irtrin, they'd wind up the leg at Velir. Tom looked forward to having a reason to land there that time to take on return cargo. Velir boasted a nice trade base that Maryl could always mine for deals. The Hidirin contract initially was arranged there, in fact.
B'Elanna liked that base, too, having struck up an acquaintance with the engineering manager there while searching for odd parts for the Guerdon. She drowsily told Tom she needed to contact the manager again to see if they had found the reactor ports she'd been looking for. She would do so when they made the course change at Argolis. If they got back soon and had the power and speed they needed, that would happen in just over a month.
They both hoped aloud, again, that it would happen.
Finally, in mid-sentence, she fell silent. Relief and relative relaxation finally giving way to tiredness, her eyes had already closed even as Tom watched her, even as she still spoke. Her body, already leaned against the length of the bunk, slid down to her arm, leaving her half-supported by the mattress. Then, her head tipped forward and slowly settled next to his shoulder, her hands on either side of her face. Several seconds passed in that stillness; then her head turned to the side and she exhaled deeply.
Watching her give it up at last, he had to wonder how long it had been since she'd slept. She had quickly become known for her all-nighters on the Guerdon. Only Savan beat her for claiming the fewest hours of sleep. But they'd been there for a few days by then, and he doubted she'd slept much at the base, with him as he'd been. She had to be completely wiped out.
Propping himself up a little on an elbow, Tom reached down and eased her up onto the bed with him, careful for the connections and wires coming from the pads. Grabbing the cloth of her jumpsuit in spots, he managed to pull her hips, then her legs up. Slim but solid, he honestly expected her to weigh more than she did. But she came up with relative ease. It wasn't the best position for sleeping, but he figured she'd adjust if she needed. She'd need to be up in about four hours as it was to change out the cells again. He wished he could do it himself, turn off the alarm and let her sleep.
"Have a break for now, B'Elanna," he whispered, stroking her soft curls with a hand, watching her relax by his side despite all the bleeping, buzzing machinery there. He drew a deep breath and relaxed, too. "I'll take this watch."
"God, I hate this stuff," Tom grumbled as B'Elanna pressed the medication into his neck.
"It won't be much longer," she quietly told him.
"After years of wanting to be numb or unconscious, it's funny how much I hate it now."
"It's an improvement."
Tom breathed and said nothing more when the second and third injections were applied. She was probably sick of his complaints and he was too tired to make a joke of it.
B'Elanna set the spent hyposprays inside their case for cleaning, then set the case aside. Then she looked for something else to do. There wasn't much, which was even more bothersome to her than before. They'd talked for so long the night before, she literally fell asleep on him. When he gently woke her, she found herself in the last place she should have been: Snuggled warmly up at his side and completely comfortable there. She'd been rigidly keeping her distance since, cursing herself for being such an idiot about it. He certainly wasn't troubled and likely didn't think anything about it. But she was starting to feel distracted and nervous around him, and they still had a couple days at least cooped up together.
Once they returned to the Guerdon, she could easily work her way out of it, but she really didn't want to say or do the wrong thing there, especially with him in a position that allowed even less business than she endured. The way he processed information, he'd have no trouble figuring out what was going on in her mind. Her blood ran cold to imagine how embarrassing that would be on top of all the other humiliations she'd suffered on that ship.
Them she wondered why she was acting like a fifteen year-old. Because this is someone you work for, she answered herself.
In another half hour, the final medication she needed to administer would make him very drowsy. She was a little ashamed to know it, but she'd be glad to have that time to regroup.
While she circled the small space, Tom watched her. He knew better than to ask her what was wrong. After such a hard week, and days of keeping up her game face, he'd already surmised, she was probably embarrassed by having fallen asleep as she had, appearing so vulnerable. In any situation, B'Elanna didn't like that. He sighed to himself. He should have just left her where she was. But then, she had felt pretty nice there next to him, warm and softly breathing, so it wasn't a total waste. She'd get over it soon enough.
Nope, he grinned, Still not dead.
But she did look like she needed a save. "Did you manage to hang onto those cards we replicated?"
B'Elanna looked back at him. "I still have them," she answered, burying her relief under her crisp reply. "Are you suggesting I play you in your condition?"
"Yeah, it probably wouldn't be fair, but you need to earn some confidence, so I'll still let you win."
She laughed and went to her bag for the deck. "We'll see about that," she responded before she could check herself. Stiffening, she pulled a breath and got herself together, but otherwise didn't pause.
The moment she turned again, a blast knocked her directly across the room and off her feet. The cards sprayed across the floor. "That deck just wasn't made to stay together," she remarked before another blast sent her tumbling back.
"Oof!!" Tom grunted and hit the floor, knocking over the regenerator unit and tearing off one of the pads.
"Oh no!" B'Elanna scrambled across the floor even as a third explosion rocked the ship.
Looking out the window and seeing the streams of reddish white bouncing off the shields, they didn't have to guess what was happening. Whatever the crew had been readying for had finally caught up with them.
B'Elanna knew she couldn't do anything about that much, though, so she got her hands under Tom's side and heaved him up with a little of his help.
"The pad," Tom gasped, nodding to where it landed on the floor. "It'll need to be...um, recalibrated."
"I know," she said and got out the tool as quickly as she could. The dampers a little off due to the blasts, she could now feel the sharp turns the little ship was pulling. Glancing at the viewport, she drew back a little to see a huge white form pass in the distance, readying for another turn. Jerking her attention back to the business under her hands, she moved so Tom could see. "Is that a starship?"
Tom squinted at the parrying view and forgot about the regenerator, even as B'Elanna slapped the pad back into place and braced herself against him. Even doped up and looking through the little, bobbing window, he knew his ships, especially the Excelsior Class. "More than that," he whispered and looked at B'Elanna. "It's the Berlin."
B'Elanna cursed under her breath and weighed Tom down as the phaser fire sliced over the shield bubble. "Seems the Maquis knows all our friends," she muttered.
"Space is small out here," he agreed, holding onto the sides of the bunk as another blast and course shift rocked them again. In a little cruiser like that, dampers at one hundred percent wouldn't keep them from being tossed around in a firefight.
A firefight that turned quickly offensive, too, as the Liberty, for all its deficiencies and age, made a course change and faced the sleek starship with an answer of its own. Dodging and diving the streams of phaser fire, it made fast time to the anterior port nacelle section of the bigger ship--Tom guessed, anyway, from what he could see. Chakotay was Starfleet. He knew he couldn't be shot at there.
A creak, then rumbling sound rattled underneath the ship, and then they disengaged from the safe haven to take a dive around the starship, phasers first. A moment later, a torpedo shot out from beneath and flew directly into the Berlin's underbelly.
They only got a passing view as the weapon tore through the powerful starship's shields and blew out what looked like half a deck.
Sitting up again, B'Elanna stared in horror even after the view shifted to nothing but sparks in space. "That was one hell of a torpedo," she breathed, almost in disbelief.
"They don't have material control in the Maquis," Tom reminded her. "I don't want to guess what was loaded into that canister."
"Probably not much different than what they shot at us," she said, harping to herself, How could I have sympathized at all with these people?
Another shot struck the Liberty, vigorously buzzing through the shields. She threw her arms over Tom's midsection and her leg over the regenerator unit before the shockwave hit. The dampers weakened, she could feel her fingers pulling at the joints for a couple seconds as she held tightly on before the ship swerved again and she felt herself being shoved the other way. Below, she knew several phaser banks had been at work, though they could neither see nor hear what they were producing.
"I thought about it before, but I really know why you pilots insist on viewscreens," she said. "I wish I could see what was going on."
Tom coughed a laugh. "It always takes an emergency--" He cut off, grabbing the frame of the bunk again as the ship banked and ducked.
The next blast threw B'Elanna's head down onto the other side of the mattress. The lights flicked and main power seemed to fail momentarily. But it all came back and the Liberty rallied, tossing another couple of torpedoes out of its bays.
B'Elanna kept her head down that time, waiting...
A crash sounded, then, and at least a few power conduits were fried as the comm panel at the door sizzled and shorted out. Tom craned his head to see the Berlin coming around. "Part of me wants them to win, the other part doesn't feel like getting caught here or dead."
A loud, hollow boom reverberated around them, and then the whole ship was knocked off its line. B'Elanna groaned for the pull in her gut, closing her eyes when the unmistakable creak of tearing hull plates whined above them as they struggled to get the interior gravity corrected. Something was coming through the shields...
Another groan and rumble from below and a fourth torpedo shot out of the Liberty, whirling around via a directional device and whizzing past the viewport when Tom managed to see over B'Elanna's back. He immediately knew where on the Berlin it was aiming for. It eased his pride a little to know that a starship could be attacked as efficiently as the Guerdon had been. Then again, the Maquis seemed to have the chemicals to make any destruction quite possible. More, they had no qualms about using them, even on Starfleet--and Chakotay seemed to have some self-control. It was disturbing to think who didn't.
Suddenly, another couple of larger cruisers came alongside the Liberty, one of which took up position just outside the viewport, firing at will and straight ahead, then shooting yet another torpedo out at its enemy before paring off for another assault angle.
They caught a glimpse of the Berlin once again. Predictably, it'd taken some hard damage to its deflector rim and lower decks thanks to that last torpedo, and it was sporting a few more battle scars along its stern as the other Maquis ships kept the pressure on. There was little resistance from the shields at that point.
"They probably knocked the main deflector offline," B'Elanna noted.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Yeah, they like frying deflectors first."
"They're working on secondaries," she added, wanting to move to the window to perhaps have another look at the Berlin, but she was smart enough to stay where she had purchase. Someone in engineering was still trying to get the internal gravity balanced, but kept overcompensating. With a snort, she realized they might get her down there after all, if that kept up. "They won't last."
"Yeah."
With that, they could do nothing but wait. They waited longer than they expected. Nearly a minute of silence followed that torpedo.
A couple more hits rattled the Liberty again, but it was not nearly as powerful as before. The Maquis ships all seemed to easily turn away, and they saw one of them bank hard starboard and pop into warp. Glancing out the window again, Tom saw the sparks give way to streaming stars.
"They're getting some distance," he quietly deduced. "My bet is the Berlin's disabled."
"They're running?" B'Elanna was surprised.
"Chakotay knows that destroying a starship is more trouble than it's worth. It'll attract every piece of junk in the fleet to the sector. Just disabling them will make Dokaru want to fight him again himself."
"You're right."
"And I'm glad for it," Tom said, grunting a little as, with B'Elanna's weight off of him, he could check to make sure the regenerator pads were still in place. It was hard to tell without the tricorder and with the first round of medications starting to do their job. He was feeling the pain from landing on the floor, however, and he hoped no more than the pad had been knocked loose. "I liked Dokaru, and even Doc Masdi was a good guy. I like knowing they'll live another day."
"Carey was a great help," she remembered aloud. "He and the rest of his department aren't having a good day, either. They'll be on that deflector for a week."
"Yeah." Done with the topic, he looked over at the table. "Where'd the tricorder go?" he asked.
B'Elanna got on her hands and knees to reach under the bed for it. Careful when you wish for something to do, she told herself, hoping one thing to do wouldn't be fixing the medical equipment. Thankfully, the little unit whirred to life. The LED had some damage, but it was working.
With a little determination, Tom managed to get the regenerator pad reset and B'Elanna, satisfied that he hadn't suffered any more than a bruise for getting tossed onto the deck, got it back in place. Checking the chronometer, B'Elanna loaded up the final hypospray.
"Now that you've had your excitement for the day," she jested, "you can have your nap."
"Shut up and get it over with," he grinned back, closing his eyes to take the dose. He breathed deeply when he heard the whiz of air, then felt the radiating numb crawl over his body, starting with his stomach. Groaning softly, he readied himself for the aftereffect.
A whish followed that, then a clamor of footsteps. "Explain how the USS Berlin was able to track us down, Paris!" railed Seska.
Tom turned his head to see it indeed was the Bajoran, fiery-eyed and snarling...pretty much everything he knew about her looks Not that I should have expected to have that one behind me as long as the Berlin was still in operation, he sighed to himself. Standing beside her, Chakotay did not look his usual self. He was hot from the fight, full of whatever his second in command had told him; he was looking for answers, too, and wanted them now.
"A full sector away from Starbase 311 and they could pin us down?" she continued. "How does that happen?"
"Interstellar bread trail?" he whispered, forcing his eyes to stay open. "You're the ones who scanned us...when we came aboard, you scanned us. You know we didn't have a beacon."
"But you had all the equipment to build one at the base--and that equipment is missing."
"I installed all the long range communication devices," B'Elanna insisted. "We couldn't have carried them out."
"They were obviously used, though."
"I tested them and that was it."
"We'd have never...been able to get...signal." He pulled a breath as his eyes closed. "Just...hypo. B'Elanna."
She gladly stepped in as his head rolled the other way. "There's no way we could have known they were onto you," she asserted, stepping between Tom's unconscious body and the two Maquis. "And we couldn't have been able to contact the Berlin from the base without knowing where they were."
Seska shook her head at the engineer. "I'm not blaming you, Torres. You probably didn't have anything to do with it that you know of. But Paris knows these people and I think we deserve an explanation after being attacked by a Starfleet ship your captain has had dealings with."
"I'm sure there's a great explanation why they'd patrol this area looking for Maquis ships carrying stolen materials and illegal substances," B'Elanna returned. "Tom was in no position to do arrange anything, much less get into the systems I was only just installing."
"Were you in the center with him at all times?" Chakotay asked.
"No, I couldn't have been," B'Elanna answered, then shot a stare to Seska. "I left him unconscious on the bunk. I'm not exaggerating. He couldn't move."
"As far as you knew," said Seska. "Look, Starfleet is all for making deals. It happens all the time. I have no doubt that daddy's little screwup had no problem brokering a deal to save his ass, either there or here somehow when he was working in the control lab before you left. But it did happen, and I will prove it. There's no other way the Berlin could have followed us out here so far."
"If he was close to being the type to do that, he would never have come here himself."
"I think you're wrong about Paris," Seska told her squarely. "I think you don't know him as well as you think you do. I do appreciate your guts in standing up for what you think is right, though, despite everything I tried to do to help you here," Seska told her. "I still say you could be doing a lot more of that, instead of the lost cause you're having to deal with now."
B'Elanna's eyes narrowed at the pitch. "I don't throw my loyalty around, Seska."
"I'm only saying your could make a real difference by helping us."
"I wouldn't help you to a glass of water if our lives weren't on the line."
The corner of Seska's mouth turned up. "What makes you think they aren't?"
Chakotay raised his hand towards the Bajoran, but B'Elanna spoke before he could address her.
"I think that if you'd kill or trap us here for whatever end you're looking for, then you'd be no better than the Cardassians and Starfleet put together." She glanced over at the other Maquis there. "In short, Captain Chakotay, I'm counting on your sense of common decency to get us out of here, and that's all."
"You'll get home as soon as we meet your ship," he told her.
Seska coughed a laugh. "Chakotay--"
"That'll be all," he cut in, letting his stare do the rest. Turning, he gestured for the Bajoran to leave. "We'll discuss it later. Let me handle this."
"That son of a bitch betrayed us and you're going to let it go?!"
"I never said that," he calmly replied. "But I need to take it from here. I'm going to handle it from here on."
The woman's eyes were a reflection of pure loathing--for Torres, for the situation, it was hard to tell--though she did pull slowly back and finally obey. The captain silently released his breath, even as Seska's hiss echoed back to them when she strode down the corridor.
"Thank you," B'Elanna said, as sourly as before but meaning it enough. Her instincts at full again, she felt her heart beating to wonder how Seska would have continued if allowed to stay. Chakotay seemed to be holding her down by the heel, the Bajoran was so frustrated and determined. But then, living as they did, maybe they had no choice but to think the worst of her and Tom--mainly Tom. They had to watch around every corner, protect themselves. She couldn't curse them too much for behaving very much as she had, when times were rough....
It was so much easier to hate them. She honestly didn't know what to think anymore, only feel angry with Seska for assuming she'd betray the man she'd been protecting day-in and day-out for a week.
"You're welcome," Chakotay nodded, knowing whatever gains they had made with the engineer in the past five days had been sorely tested. He'd told Seska again not to try to recruit Torres, just to help make her comfortable and be friendly, and that was it. Obviously, she went too far again, preventing any chance of an ally to call on down the road if needed. Seska simply could not think in the long-term. But that was another conversation.
"I didn't want to create any hard feelings here," he said. "The Berlin's ability to find and track us had to be checked out, though. They'd been watching us since we came out of the Badlands and that doesn't happen by accident."
"Tell me, Captain," B'Elanna asked, looking directly up at him, "are you in the habit of apologizing for Seska, or is it just for us?"
Deliberately, Chakotay took that with a grin. "Actually, just you."
B'Elanna's eyes fell back to Tom. His breathing had slowed and quieted, the meds full in effect. He was still alive, and the Maquis captain at least seemed to be honest about his objectives. She sighed. "Look, she did a nice thing for me and I appreciate it. But considering how she feels about my captain, I'd like it if she stayed away from here, if that's possible."
"It shouldn't be too hard to keep her busy for the next few days," Chakotay assured her and waited for her gaze to draw up again so he could offer another nod. Only when she blinked her acknowledgment did he step back through the door, straighten his vest and stride away to the hundred other things he had to take care of.
"Thanks, Bendera," Tom said quietly as he waved off B'Elanna, who was in the middle of her meal when the man entered. "I think this'll be the last time you have to ferry a shipment of cells. I get to take these things off tomorrow."
"You've got to be looking forward to that," the Maquis agreed, stuffing the spent units into his satchel as Tom handed them to him.
"Do you know how far off we are now?" Tom asked.
"About two days," Bendera told him. "We weren't driven too far off course. We've let your people know, too, what's happened. Your science person's preparing for you."
Tom snorted. "Great."
Bendera, who had spoken with the Vulcan woman, didn't need an explanation. "Anyway, if these die out on you prematurely, let me know. Everyone is hot on specific repairs right now, but I'm all over the ship and can get them to you."
Tom nodded. "I appreciate it."
"Standing orders, Captain Paris," Bendera shrugged, "and to be honest, we'll all be glad to have this over with, get back to the line, back to what we signed up for."
"The base is a wash, then?" B'Elanna queried.
"Probably."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes, but said nothing. The anger at all that wasted effort was still there, but she knew there wasn't a choice but to move the base. She and Tom should have known that the moment they saw the Cardassian ship waiting for them.
"Using the Badlands is a good idea," Bendera continued. "If we do it again, it'll just be somewhere else."
"Good," Tom said, slapping in the last power cell and handing the old one to Bendera. "I'd rather leave here knowing I have absolutely no idea where it is."
"We're glad you think like that," returned Bendera. With a nod, he backed off and stepped out of the quarters, locking the entrance behind him.
Satisfied, Tom looked over at B'Elanna, who had involved herself completely in her meal again, now that the Maquis had gone and they were alone. She'd remained quiet even after he woke up, save relaying what happened between her, Seska and Chakotay earlier that day. He wondered at first if something else was going on with her, but again, it really had been a hell of a trip for her, in every kind of way. He guessed she was also mixed up from all the signals being shot at her there, too. Much as he'd like to help, she probably needed to get a handle on things in her own way.
"So, what's for dinner?" he quietly asked.
"*He's busy with something else.*"
"He's supposed to be here!"
"*We're trying to put our ship back together, lady. But I'll let him know you were looking for your babysitter.*"
B'Elanna blew a breath of disgust between her teeth and slapped off the comm. She looked back at Tom. He'd be awake soon and requiring new regenerator cells, thanks to a unit that burned them out thrice as quickly. The stock Tuvok had brought her was already spent, now he was nowhere to be found, and the idiot not in charge of tactical thought she was a joke.
"Assistants," she grumbled to herself. Station-side or Maquis, they always thought they ran the whole unit when their boss wasn't breathing on them--all the more reason she was grateful to have Ridge.
If she had the equipment, she'd simply hardwire the whole unit and let the ship power it instead, like most people would in that past century or two. But she didn't have that kind of equipment--or the authorization.
Had she the equipment, she might have done it, anyway.
Unfortunately, she knew Bendera and Chakotay were deep into tactical, too, and weren't to be disturbed. She didn't want to leave the room with Tom unguarded, even with the ship as busy as it seemed to be right now and having gotten to know some of the people better. Experience had already proven it quite possible to get past any tricks with the door. Her gut shrank a little still when she remembered the moment she walked in--right in time, just as that guy--she never did get his name--was about to shoot...
B'Elanna turned around and noted her position. She'd been in that spot when she first confronted the man, knocking the weapon from his hand with a swat. Getting down on her hands and knees, she looked under the bunk, then around to under the corner unit. She smiled a moment later and crawled forward.
Tom blinked his surprise when she handed the phaser to him. "I have to say, B'Elanna, you blend in quick."
Her lips turned up. "So they tell me," she returned. "You know how to shoot one of those?"
"I think I can figure it out."
"I'm asking you, Tom."
He checked the controls. The characters were Gamarian, but the rest was standard Federation. "I can use it," he answered. "Where'd you get this thing, anyway?"
"Ask me again later," B'Elanna replied, stuffing the last of the spent cells into her bag. "You'll be able to stay awake for about twenty minutes?"
"Yeah, I'm awake. See you in a bit."
She reprogrammed the door lock on the way out, anyway. With nothing else to do now while he slept, she'd been working to make it a little more secure, so if someone did try something, the alert would at least give Tom a warning.
Striding through the corridor for the lift, B'Elanna pointed her eyes ahead and kept her pace quick, though she needn't have bothered. The crew was definitely less interested in her by then, with a quick pace of their own to match their intent expressions. She came to the aft junction without so much as a bump on the shoulder. Coming off the lift was Kinidar, whom she'd met when Tuvok needed to check in with Chakotay on the bridge during Tom's operation. B'Elanna gave him a nod of greeting before trading places with him.
"How is your captain faring, Torres?" the Andorian asked curiously as he turned around to look at her again.
B'Elanna hiked the shoulder strap up onto her shoulder and held the lift button. "Better. That medic did a great job."
"As did you," Kinidar noted. "You showed a good deal more patience with the man than I would have. But then, were it Chakotay, I believe I'd have mustered some."
B'Elanna grinned. "It does make a difference," she agreed.
"Well, good that Paris is recovering. And tell him we're all still marveling at the conn log from the shuttle. --He was a pilot. That should go a long way." He smiled and bowed his head curtly before breaking off to get on with his business.
B'Elanna laughed a little to herself as she activated the lift. "Yes, he'll like that," she said to herself, but then settled herself back into the reason she was there. Drawing a full breath as the lift halted at deck three, she propelled herself forward and around the starboard corridor for the recharge room.
"I left for them, damnit!"
B'Elanna slowed before reaching the room where she heard the cries.
"I put aside my career, my relationship, my everything to protect them--and for what?!"
"What happened, Mariah?" asked another woman.
"They're back to Earth, is what! They're safe--and don't get me wrong, I'm glad they're all right--but now I can't go back and I can't follow them. I gave it up for them and they left me here!"
A healthy outburst of sobbing followed the confession, a lament that made even B'Elanna's gut tighten for it. She could only imagine what it would be like to put one's whole life aside just to be abandoned, even rejected, and then trapped... Pointing her eyes ahead and starting forward again, shooting a quick glance into the parts bay door. A brown-haired woman still released her cries into the arms of another Maquis, who didn't move or try to break away.
"We're as much family as anyone out here, Mariah," the other woman pressed after B'Elanna passed by. "We stick together. You have nothing to worry about as long as we're around, and every person on this ship will stand by you. You can count on it."
"I'd better...because I might as well be dead otherwise."
Walking slowly on, the power of the Maquis' association left B'Elanna nodding to herself. People without anywhere to go or anyone to turn to for support would naturally hold tight to each other, even when they didn't want to be there. The cause only put a higher meaning above it all. She remembered the man in the mess hall, humming while everyone so intently listened. Did they know why he sang it? They probably knew why he was there, and that was why they stopped and gave him his time.
In any case, B'Elanna was slightly comforted to know that the woman would indeed be taken care of.
The dusky corridor grew maddeningly narrow after the shuttle bay--there was no reason for the difference, and it allowed less traffic in a stock area--but B'Elanna left it with a shake of her head as she crossed through the familiar port and finally turned into the recharge room.
Gratefully, she found all the cells she needed, all lined up in the charge units and ready to go, as if they were waiting for her. She wouldn't put it past Bendera to have made sure of it, anyway. She grabbed all the ones she needed and stacked them in her bag--then rechecked to make sure she had enough for a change. Much as she was getting used to the trip, she still didn't want to have to take it often.
The corridor opened up again, and B'Elanna sped her pace. Even with the stop, she'd make it back before she expected, change out the cells and get Tom's medication done without having to rush. She passed the shuttle bay entrance without looking in that time.
"This time, do it right."
B'Elanna slowed when she heard Seska's clipped voice echo behind her. They weren't speaking loudly, but she heard them well and knew the last one who spoke was Seska.
"Didn't I do that the last time?" the man asked.
"Yes," Seska returned. "Now I'm asking you to do it again. Do you need a chart? Put the spec thruster control plates back in then lock the shuttle down in case the dampers go offline. I'll run the diagnostic after we're done with the deflector array realignment."
"Easy out, easy in," a man acknowledged and went to his duty.
B'Elanna stopped and swung around to the wall beside the entrance, leaning against it as though she were waiting. She hardly breathed in the mean time, even as her blood rose directly into her cheeks and her heart dropped into her gut.
"It'd better get back in according to the plan, or I'll jettison you personally and wave at your remains."
"Never hurts to be friendly about it," the man snickered. "Yeah, I'm going! I'm going!"
"This isn't the farm, Jarvin," Seska snapped. "Get on those thrusters now! I want to be able to inspect this shuttle by second shift tomorrow. Any later for any reason and I'll blame you."
Her mind turned the information over a few times and her pulse began to pound. Pushing herself off the wall, B'Elanna resumed her course, hardly mindful of anything but what was right before her that time. The voices faded into the bay long before she remembered to breathe again.
She stumbled onto the lift and tapped deck one. She stared numbly ahead as the view began to move.
Seska planned what she did to the shuttle ahead of time. She was working on me knowing what she'd done to the shuttle. --Maybe she was betting I'd survive?
She felt her skin warm to know Seska could have won that bet. The helpfulness of the crew, the sincerity of the captain and effort to give Tom good care, Seska's reevaluation and resulting friendliness and favors and even Seska's accusing Tom of contacting the Berlin and Captain Chakotay's following reasonableness: All of it made B'Elanna rethink her feelings about those people, who would do anything to meet their goals. They hadn't changed toward her. They'd seen to it that she'd changed towards them. But they would be violent as readily as they would be conniving if it helped them to what they wanted.
B'Elanna felt her stomach churn and forced herself to swallow against it.
As the lift ground to a halt, she had to straighten herself from the slump she'd fallen into. Walking through the deck one corridor, staring at the nods of people who were already becoming more familiar to her, she felt like a bug on glass and a traitor to the people she wanted to return to. One of the people opened her mouth to say something to her, but B'Elanna dug her heels into the deck and sped her pace.
Seska might have won that bet.
Was Chakotay in on it? Worse, would he continue to protect her even if he wasn't?
They stared at her like hungry people, all of them wanting a piece of something.
She just wanted to get back into the quarters and get past the next couple days, get back to the Guerdon and crawl into her bunk and imagine the Maquis and the Badlands and the DMZ never existed, if only for a while.
She sped her steps again, making good time to the lift, and maybe she wouldn't have to look at any more...
"Torres."
A hand landed on her shoulder and she whipped around with a snarl--only to find Tuvok at the other end of her curtailed attack. He had caught her arm in his large, firm hand, and he looked down to her as he always had before slowly releasing his grip. She felt the warmth of it many seconds after it left her skin.
She blew out her breath, dragging her emotions into check. "What do you want?"
"I should ask if you continue to require my presence. I received your request."
"No," she blurted, then shook her head. "I don't need you anymore, thanks. I've got everything."
"Who is with Captain Paris?" the Vulcan then queried, a speck of concern crossing him.
"A fully charged phaser," B'Elanna answered, nodding towards the cross corridor when his brow rose in response. She needed to get out of that hall. She needed to get away form those people. "Even so, I should get back."
"Very well." Stepping out of her way, he bowed his head slightly to let her pass.
As she resumed her pace, she wondered if Tuvok's assignment included softening her up, too.
Growling to herself, B'Elanna strode back into the cubicle quarters and tried not to look at Tom. Suddenly, it was hard to look at him again, knowing where she could have gone if they'd just had the time, and if she hadn't seen and heard...
Seska may well have won the bet.
Could it have happened? she asked herself, shamefully knowing that anything was possible and indeed, that they'd been trying to make it happen.
"Got them?" Tom asked, watching her drop her sack on the table and yank off her jacket.
"Yes."
"Everything went all right?"
Nodding tersely, B'Elanna started changing out the cells.
"Out with it," Tom sighed, then snorted at himself. "God, when did I start sounding like my father?"
He continued to watch B'Elanna, who was buried in a meal he personally knew tasted like freeze-dried dirt. Since she had returned from getting the recharged cells, she'd assumed much the same posture, glancing up from time to time, as she did just then. It looked like an effort to meet his gaze for as long as she did.
She looked very much like she did when she first came on the Guerdon. He coughed a little laugh to himself to recall it. How long ago it seemed.
"Something happened out there, didn't it?" he asked, poking a mysterious ball of what might have been cheese.
She frowned, shrugged. "Nothing...nothing directly. I heard something, and it made me start thinking about..." She shook her head. "No, you need to know. Here I am questioning my morals and I suddenly can't be straight with you."
Tom furrowed his brow. "About what?"
B'Elanna finally met his eyes. "Seska had the thruster control plates changed out in the shuttle. The wrong plates were purposefully put in so they'd check out on the diagnostic, but wouldn't operate with that shuttle when actually used. No one could have spotted that until activating a landing sequence."
Tom took that in with a slow blink. "You heard her talking about it?"
"I heard her telling her person to put the spec parts back in, yes. Even Chakotay said there was a problem with the gravimetric plates--which makes me wonder how much he really knew."
"I don't think having us dead and a shuttle totaled is in his best interest," Tom said.
"But it seems to have been in Seska's," B'Elanna finished quietly.
"Hmm," he quietly replied, then paused. "I wonder how many lives I've got left," he asked himself aloud, then looked at her again. She looked like she'd break in half if she tried to stand. Meanwhile, he wished again that he could at least sit up. "What did that make you think about, B'Elanna?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Where to start? she suddenly wondered. Her brain had been spinning since she stepped away from the shuttle bay. But she trusted Tom...and did feel a strange need to tell him the rest. For all she'd been through with him that past week, and knowing what close calls she'd averted, she felt he should know where she'd been. Drawing a slow breath, she quietly admitted, "They'd been working on me, Tom."
Again, a slow blink was his first response. "Yeah. But we knew that'd happen."
"Which makes it worse," she sighed. "We all knew I was a target, from my first day on the Guerdon. I should have seen through it. I mean, I was still suspicious, but I didn't want to be as much.... It was right there and I let my suspicions relax even knowing I didn't trust or like them. --None of this makes sense."
"Being in the moment and tired as hell on top of it isn't something anyone can be prepared for, B'Elanna. You see it the least when it's right on top of you."
She breathed a humorless laugh. "No kidding. They'd been doing a good job, too--not trying too hard or pushing me into anything but that damned shower. Chakotay was doing everything he could, protecting us, making sure his people were helpful, and they seemed like they were accepting I was there..." She swallowed the bile rising in her with that confession. She knew all too well her weakness for acceptance, despite all her assertions of self-reliance.
"Maybe it wouldn't have happened," she continued. "I want to think it probably wouldn't have--but a part of me knows that if they kept me here long enough, maybe got me fighting for something, if just myself...I could have turned my back on everything I said I'd never do. I've despised these people, Tom. I'm the one who didn't want you to accept Captain Chakotay's deal despite the protection. Maybe...I don't know, but...I was starting to like some of these people--or at least I'd stopped hating them; Seska really seemed sincere and got me feeling good by helping me to a shower and clean clothes. How easy was that? How couldn't I have seen it?"
"She'd all but served you chocolate bonbons in the command room when we first came on," Tom recalled. "Naturally, she'd adapt for the circumstance."
B'Elanna growled, shaking her head tightly. "After everything they'd done to us, to even think I could have been turned on their side is incredibly humiliating." She breathed a derisive laugh. "And admitting all this isn't making me feel any better, either."
"I'm glad you trust me to it," Tom told her. "I know from personal experience it's not easy to open up with something like that."
She only shrugged to agree, then continued, "Anyway, you had a right to know about the shuttle and about Seska." Her eyes turned down again.
"It's not such a bad thing," Tom softly told her, smiling understandingly when their eyes met once more. "God knows I've fallen for worse. But it just shows what a good person you are, B'Elanna, and that you're not so jaded inside as maybe you'd like to think. We try not to let too much get under our skin out here, but we still itch to look for what's good. We want good things. Really, that's no crime, and there was no harm done. It'll be all right."
B'Elanna breathed against her beating heart and sudden warmth as his words found her. "I never thought they didn't have their own plan for us, though," she diverted. "There was more going on than that base."
"Well, that's just good reasoning."
"I hope they let us go, though."
"Yeah." Tom sighed. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see on that one."
Her eyes turned down again. "Yeah."
With some effort, he pulled on his coat, checked his pockets, moved his toes around in his boots.
Of it all, the boots felt the weirdest. He feet felt two sizes too big.
Waking nicely from another drug-induced sleep, Tom knew with a thorough wave of the tricorder that he could finally take off those regeneration pads. He'd been anticipating being able to do so that day, but half expected a setback because of the fall yesterday or some other form of delay. But his luck was still working with him. He was ready to start living in the twenty-fourth century again. He was never so glad to get back to it.
Deactivating the generator, peeling the pads away and setting the unit aside, he slowly but gladly pulled himself to sit. B'Elanna's puffs of sleep did not stir as he recovered from that position; then, readying himself, he used the upper bunk frame to pull himself to stand. His knees felt like jelly and his gut required a minute to deal with gravity once again, but he breathed and moved a little and got his bearings.
"Where do you think you're going?" B'Elanna whispered. Her eyes had opened to stare directly at him.
"Across the room if I'm lucky," he returned gamely. In fact, he was feeling better by the minute, certainly able to do as he said.
Her lips turning up, B'Elanna rolled onto her back. "It's about time."
Two hours and a quiet breakfast passed before he was ready for more, which request inspired a belabored look from the engineer. Not that he expected much different. She knew all too well what was beyond those doors. "Just a walk around the deck," he promised. "Why not just contact one of the people you know," he suggested, "and just let them know that public enemy number one is having a stroll? I need to get my blood moving, just a lap."
Knowing how he could be when he didn't get to work off that energy, B'Elanna finally shrugged and stacked up their empty ration trays. "I could use a coffee," she told him and grabbed her jacket before moving across to open the comm. Chakotay was probably on the bridge by then. She didn't have to look to know Tom was smiling with satisfaction.
It only felt half real, putting one foot in front of the other, moving ahead, glancing at the orange-lit doors in the deep gray corridor. Tom's head was light, still adjusting to the blood flowing more freely out of it and into his still swollen feet and he was stiff as hell from a week on his back and only the regenerator treatments to keep his muscles in tone. Still, he felt no pain. B'Elanna had seen to that before they left, insisting that being a little out of it was worth the trouble if it meant he could actually get himself back.
"I've done with dragging you around," she added, only half joking.
They entered the mess soon after and without pause. Kinidar had assured them that the lunch shift was ended and they probably wouldn't be bothered by a passer-by. Either he or Chakotay would stop in to make sure of that. True to his word, it was vacant. Tom's eyes went to the rickety, flickering replicator before B'Elanna took her first step towards it. "Mind getting me a coffee, too?"
"Strong, cream no sugar?"
"Yeah. Good memory."
"I've heard you order that about a thousand times," she shrugged. "It's not that hard to remember."
He grinned and settled himself against the bar, leaning against the stool instead of sitting on it, taking full advantage of being a biped again. Before he could enjoy himself too much, however, a familiar form appeared on the other side of the entry--and spotted him immediately.
Tom made the most of it, anyway. "Good afternoon, Seska," he drawled.
"Still watching where you're going, Paris?" she replied with a smirk as she continued through toward the bridge. Her eyes pinned to his as she slowed to a stalk. "Well, maybe, to use a Human expression, the fourth time will be the charm."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes as she brought out the coffees, but Seska had sped again and moved out of the room before she could add a reply. "God, Tom, what exactly did you say to make her hate you so much?"
"Not sure," he muttered, failing at lightness and increasingly distracted as Seska's words bounced around in his mind. "I was pretty drunk back then."
She set his mug before him, but he didn't reach out for it, yet. Taking hers, B'Elanna watched him puzzle something out behind his eyes. Now that she knew the expression, it was easy to tell when he was doing it. Finally, as the clank of the plasma emission tube housing below the deck began to make her itch to go shut it up, he picked up his mug, glancing his thanks her way.
His eyes turned back to the wall, alert but elsewhere. It reminded her of how he looked when they were flying in the Badlands and he was getting his idea on how to evade the Cardassian cruiser. But then his lips parted; with a jerk of his head, he caught her eyes, suddenly enough that she blinked with surprise.
"What?" she asked. Before he answered, she heard more footsteps echo behind them. She turned to see Chakotay coming into the mess, surveying them both with narrow eyes and a firm, straight mouth. B'Elanna had a feeling what he was looking for. "You just missed her."
"She told me you were here," Chakotay replied. "She had to pick up some equipment from the bridge. She'll be returning in a minute, and then I'll get back to work soon."
"You shouldn't have to babysit us," B'Elanna told him.
"The break is good," he admitted, then looked at Tom. "And it's good to see you're healing as expected." Tom didn't answer. Giving him a moment, Chakotay stepped closer and tried again. "Paris?"
His instincts piqued and heart starting to race before he was nearly ready for that much stimulation, Tom had hardly noticed the other captain's entrance and ignored Chakotay's address. His spine crawled with sensation as it all came to him. "You'd better watch yourself," she'd snarled when they first met and he served her a bitter little quip. Indeed, he remembered, as did she. B'Elanna had told him about Seska's conversation with Chakotay, how she'd been left in charge of the Liberty and how she... She's been doing all the watching, all along.
Seeing Tom's expression hadn't changed, B'Elanna remembered that she hadn't gotten an answer. "What is it?" she repeated.
"She planted the bomb," he breathed, shifting his attention to where the Bajoran had disappeared. He then looked at Chakotay, who couldn't have caught on but was looking rather curious. "Do you get your hands on triceron often, Captain?"
Chakotay furrowed his brow at the question, but didn't answer.
B'Elanna instantly knew where Tom had gone. "That bitch," she hissed. "Not just this run, but she started the whole mess!" She looked at the other captain. "She waited until she had command of the ship and came after us at Hugora. That time your deuterium stores were wasted when she was supposed to pick up more? She or whoever Jonas was didn't screw it up."
"Did you hear that here?" Chakotay asked, darkening at the young woman's accusation. "On this ship?"
"I overheard you and her arguing about it when I went for cells the first time," B'Elanna quickly replied before pressing the rest. "Captain, the deuterium was gone because she spent it all cruising out to the Hugora Nebula and playing cat and mouse with us, nearly destroying us before she had to run, rotated your base crew and probably got the rest to think it was what they were supposed to do. I'm willing to bet there's a record or person somewhere that will say she got that deuterium."
"There might not, considering how we get it."
"Did you fly the Liberty out to the Hugora Nebula and attack the Guerdon?" Tom finally asked him.
Chakotay scowled. "No."
"Who else on your ship could have done it, then?"
The Maquis did not answer that time, but he knew his face was answering that question.
"God damn," Tom muttered. His attention returned to the other man for the last confirmation he needed. "Did you leave the Liberty in Seska's charge around seven months ago, Captain Chakotay?"
Chakotay stilled as he put everything into place--the triceron charges he told Seska to stop using because they were too traceable, his off-ship station runs, recruiting and looking for Captain Paris and the Guerdon. Seska had indeed been left in charge of the Liberty just over a half-year ago and could have picked up the deuterium and spent it going after Paris and his ship, for what was left of it.
He wondered how deeply she'd erased the course logs. He wondered who would lie for her...were it all true. Seska was convinced that Paris was out for her and the Maquis because Rodrigo got a little rough with him. Much as Chakotay didn't want to believe the trader's accusations, though, it made perfect sense. Worse, for all she believed and had said about Paris, he wouldn't put it past her to take a stab at revenge.
And he'd been sleeping with her the whole time, as recently as the night before, with no indication that anything had changed. But then, he knew how much he valued Seska's incredible resourcefulness--and spitefulness. He'd used it, just as she'd used him. That'd all have been fine if she hadn't gone behind his back and wasted their precious stores...twice, now.
He had planned to wait until he returned again to do so, but he needed to talk to Fitzgerald...if the man would talk at all...
No, he'll talk, Chakotay reassured himself grimly, then briefly closed his eyes when a familiar click of heels came up behind him. He felt himself stilling inside, his heart thrumming, readying to turn and find her upturned lips, her bright eyes, so direct, so sure, so intent upon him and him alone. He'd loved her, even if he knew he'd gone to her in need, with passion and desire ricocheting off his pain and needing a place to burrow and thrive. She'd given that and all of herself, too--or so he thought. So he thought.
He hoped he could think it again in another minute.
Turning, he faced her directly. "Seska, I have to ask you about the botched deuterium trip."
Taken aback at first by the suddenness of his question, Seska glanced at the two at the high table, then at Chakotay again. "What about it?" she asked cautiously.
"When you were out on your raid, did you happen to divert course to the Hugora Nebula?"
She laughed. "The Hugora Nebula! Are you kidding me?"
"Paris and Torres are pretty certain you were there--with my ship," he stated evenly, quietly, watching her reaction closely. "I'm wondering who's telling the truth. I'd like to hear your side."
"What are you talking about, Chakotay?" Seska scoffed. "How could I have taken the ship to the Hugora Nebula? I'd have to have taken it through Cardassian space to get there and back from Solosos in only three weeks!"
"You based at Berad-Five after raiding the supply cruiser coming out of Panora?" he asked her.
"Of course I did!" she insisted. "We got a couple scrapes in the process, too. We took on repairs, and after Jonas started us off in the wrong direction, we missed the supply pickup. There's no question about what happened."
"And if I start asking him and the regular crew about exactly what happened and what everyone was doing, I'll hear what you just told me? If I contact Gifadet and his people and ask about the deuterium pickup myself, he'll back up everything you say?"
She stared hard at him. "I can't believe you'd question my loyalty, Chakotay. After everything we've built here, you'd let this trader make you paranoid. No, but you go right ahead--go right ahead and waste your time digging in to what's obviously a sorry attempt at revenge."
"I don't think you want to discuss loyalty with me right now, Seska," Chakotay coldly responded.
"I don't think you want to come near me any time soon, either," she shot back.
"Seska," Tom interjected, "we have records on our ship that can prove the Liberty was in the Hugora Nebula, that it attacked us and when it did. The USS Draden was there, too, and probably has your specs and warp signature on file. They chased your ship away from us. Think if I regurgitate some friendly relations with Starfleet that their records are going to prove us wrong?"
"Think you'll be reporting your so-called proof from a cell?" Seska said icily, "You'll never put yourself in that position, now that you've been helping us."
"But a little bird told me Starfleet's all about making deals," Tom deadpanned.
"You won't be making a deal about the Liberty and survive it."
"I've survived you this far," he replied, "and it sure as hell wasn't easy. I'll have to admit, I'm impressed. You're good at what you do. You were able to find us a full sector away, tease us, poke and prod at our defenses and pick them off one by one before lighting your candle and killing my comm tech--who got a job on my ship to support his family on Ronara."
"You're delusional!"
"You went through all that trouble," he continued, unfazed, "and even changed out the gravimetric plates in the shuttle to try to knock me off again."
Chakotay's attention snapped back to the other captain. "What?"
B'Elanna stepped in. "Seska had her person put the shuttle's original gravimetric plates back in yesterday," she told him.
Seska rolled her eyes. "I was completing the repair on the shuttle you and Paris crashed."
"I heard you in the shuttle bay yesterday ordering a man named Jarvin to put the spec plates back in," B'Elanna said and looked at Chakotay. "That's why it didn't come up on our diagnostics, Captain. The plates didn't fail until the thrusters were actually activated."
"First off," Seska coldly told her, "you've confused everything I said down there."
"The hell I did!" Again, B'Elanna addressed the narrow-eyed captain. "Ask Jarvin and look at the data. There's no other way a set of gravimetric plates would check out as sound and still fail unless they were not built to handle planetary gravity and a full load."
"There's absolutely no proof you can uncover that says the shuttle was tampered with."
B'Elanna breathed a bitter laugh to realize the meaning in that. "I guess there isn't."
"And then you came after me about the Berlin," Tom finally continued, "when there's no way in hell I could have patched through to them even if I was able to walk to a console. You've taken every opportunity to get to me, Seska, one way or another."
"This is useless," Seska snapped, looking back at Chakotay. "Why are we letting this man talk?"
"Because he's saying something," Chakotay told her, his eyes remaining fixed on the tradeship captain as he furiously tried to decide how he was going to handle her in that latest issue and remembering Torres' point. He did do a lot of explaining for Seska. And she may well have betrayed him. It was looking like she had. He felt a fury begin to creep into his nerves and radiate outwards and the pieces continued to fit together in his mind.
Tom still ignored the diversions, and he hardly even blinked as Seska's glare likewise went undisturbed. "You've done a hell of a lot of damage, Seska--to me, my ship and my crew. And for what? A couple comments I made in passing. No question, you're psychotic."
"And you're dead, Paris," she snarled and grabbed the phaser from her side holster.
Tom blinked when he saw the gleam of the weapon. Jerking to his left, he shoved B'Elanna against the wall as a whiz from the phaser shot a ray of plasma straight to his chest. He ducked back and felt the shot slice through his arm. "Damnit!" he hissed and dropped to the floor.
Chakotay lunged for the Bajoran, but she jumped back immediately and aimed the weapon at him. "Don't make me regret this," she told her captain. "This is about Paris, not about us."
"He's my responsibility, Seska!" Chakotay shouted.
"What's that supposed to mean? Letting this trader sell you out at every turn? Letting him ruin my reputation to save his ass?!"
"It means this is over," he stated firmly, taking a step closer to her.
"He's turned every word against me to weaken you, Chakotay!" she pressed. "Can't you see that?!"
"I see very well," he replied, tinged with sadness but terse with anger. He paused, staring long into her hard and desperate eyes. He had never seen her look desperate before. He had never been faced with mutiny before, though, either, he realized, feeling his blood chill as she took another step back. Her phaser was ready and he knew when she decided what to shoot, she would not hesitate again. He wondered if she knew what she was about to do. "It's my command to see to, Seska."
Gratefully smelling his coat more than his flesh, Tom forced a breath into his trembling frame as he fished around in his pocket with his good hand. The phaser he'd been holding onto was already set.
"Not this time," Seska told her captain, her eyes narrowing again.
Tom pulled his hand up, straightened his arm and shot Seska's hand. Her phaser flew across the room.
"Bastard!" she cried out, shaking as her hand smoldered.
He didn't blink when the stench of burnt flesh wafted his way. "You'd better get a tissue regenerator for that."
Chakotay strode the few steps to Seska's side and grabbed her other arm. "No!" he snapped when she backed off a step. "If you know what's good for you, you'll let me."
"What's good for me?" she said, turning a plaintive stare up to him. "You wouldn't know it."
"I can at least try." Looking down at what was left of her hand, he jerked his head around to yell at the exit, "Bendera! Get down here with the medkit!"
"Who's down this time?" called the man from the bridge.
The Maquis captain wasn't up for lightening the mood. He dragged Seska off to the door as B'Elanna knelt down next to Tom, who fell onto an elbow to catch his breath again.
"When are you going to stop surprising me?" she asked him.
"Maybe this time'll be it," he answered.
B'Elanna sighed and peered at the wound. It was superficial, but the last thing Tom needed on his first day out. Clearly, he knew that, too. He let himself lean over, didn't try to get up again. She also understood that though the phaser hadn't been aimed at her, he made sure she was out of the way. She placed her hand gently on his back.
"This makes us even, I guess," she told him.
He snorted softly and looked up at her again. "Not by a long shot, but I'll whittle away at it eventually, knowing your luck."
Bendera came and, glancing over at Tom, took an increasingly agitated Seska by the shoulders. She tried to shrug him off, but he held on. "We'll get that taken care of, Seska. --Come on, let me get to it now, before the shock wears off."
"Feel free to use my old regenerator pads," Tom said, though they probably couldn't hear him by then. His voice was cracking, too.
Chakotay watched the two disappear before moving to help Torres with Paris. Getting the other captain under his arms, he slowly helped the man back to his feet and steadied him when his knees looked like they would give way. When Paris nodded back at him, Chakotay moved to look at the two. "I promise I'll deal with her," he assured them, "and I will make certain she doesn't interfere again."
"Just get us the hell off this ship," B'Elanna returned, not looking at him. "I'm done with all of you."
"Though," Tom said quietly, offering the Maquis captain a more understanding glance, "I could use that handheld regenerator, just one more time."
"I thought I'd stop in and say goodbye. I'll be on the bridge most of today."
B'Elanna looked up from the chair she'd placed at the window, her last, pathetic bid to find something to occupy her mind in those last hours while Tom still slept. It had been an insanely long morning. And now Chakotay stood, as he had every other time, in the frame of the door, the darkened corridor behind him, his arm pressed up against the jamb. She knew when she remembered the man, she'd remember him like that.
"Tom's not up yet," she told him.
"I can tell."
"He'll be up in an hour, probably."
Chakotay nodded. "Let him know I stopped in."
"I will."
A long pause followed, but the square-built man did not move. Rather, his face reflected several topics of thought, perhaps even decisions of what he would say and a couple shades of that B'Elanna could only guess was regret. She correctly guessed the Maquis would much rather not show that bit, however.
"Seska is still sedated," he quietly informed her. "Your captain knows how to shoot effectively. She'll need a good deal of corrective surgery to fix the damage.... But maybe she needs to concentrate on something else for a while. She's been fighting a long time. All her life."
"Maybe," B'Elanna shrugged. Seska was officially off her list of people she cared about, if she'd ever been on it in the first place.
"I know Seska was trying to influence you," he added, "and I admit I let her do it, but keeping you here indefinitely was not my plan, Torres."
Her mouth pursed. "Good to know."
"Believe it. I wouldn't keep someone here against their will. It's counterproductive." Glancing at the door, he added, "I don't think you or Paris had anything to do with the Berlin, either. But I have to assume my people are right before discounting a conflict as mere paranoia."
"Guilty before innocent," B'Elanna concluded, crossing her arms as she shrugged. "I guess it can't work any other way around here."
"No, it can't," he confirmed, eyeing her again. "To be honest, I wish I had a few more people as principled as you. I'd have a lot less guesswork to do."
She frowned. "That would make your job easier."
"I still have an opening in engineering if you change your mind," he added with a little grin.
"How many times do I have to tell you people?" she shot back, her lingering anger easily ignited. "I already have a job--with a crew I trust, fair pay and the fortune of waking up not wondering if I'll be dead by night. You came after us when we did nothing to you. Then you and your people try to suck me into this hellhole? That you think, after everything that's happened, I'd work on this piece of crap with a bunch of backwater cutthroats and a fight that's not mine is beyond arrogance. You got us off that mudball and found someone to save my captain's life. For that, I'm grateful. But that's where it ends."
"I didn't expect you'd accept the job," Chakotay told her, a little bruised, much as he understood her now. "I was only being polite."
"You want to be polite? Follow through on your word, then don't ever contact us again. That, I would appreciate more than you know."
He considered the half-Klingon before him another moment before turning to leave. Indeed, there was nothing left to say to her, and a good deal of work--work on the fight that was his, by choice and great conscience, soon to return full force. "I'll have Bendera contact you when it's time to leave."
Her stare remained pinned to the doors long after they closed.
"The worst part about it for me, I guess," he told B'Elanna as he stiffly got his boot strapped on, "is knowing that in a way it was my fault, what happened at Hugora."
She shrugged, not looking back at him. "You couldn't have known what she'd do."
"No. But I should have just kept my mouth shut. If I had..." He cut off there, shaking his head of the rest of it. "You're right, but I guess it's my job to feel it. That much is working with me right now." Pushing himself to his feet, he made his way to the door, trying hard to keep his back straight.
"You're sure you have to go up there?" she asked.
"It'll be better if I do. I won't be long."
She nodded, pressing her jacket firmly into the back of her bag, which she'd been packing with purposeful care.
Tom left her to it, knowing they both would need some time to get over that ride. Wordlessly, he slipped out and into the corridor.
A few minutes later, he knocked on the frame of the tiny, open door bridge. Finally seeing it with his own eyes, he reminded himself never to complain about Bolian ship design again. Maryl's office was twice the size of that space without the machinery.
Chakotay glanced back. "How's your arm?"
"Fine, thanks," Tom answered. "I'm still woozy, but I was before that happened." Moving another step in, he waited for Chakotay to look at him again. "Thanks for getting us back to our ship in good time, considering all the diversions."
"I'm sorry it took as long as it did."
"I guess that part couldn't be helped." Seeing the sting cross the Maquis' face at the reminder, Tom diverted the topic to his actual point in going there. "On that note, Chakotay, it does have to end here. I went along with you to keep my crew and my ship safe, against everything I'd have rather done; against any respect I might have shown Jerod. I like knowing his death wasn't your fault, but I'm still done. If an opportunity comes along to lend the colonists a hand without endangering the Guerdon, I'll consider it--but only in that case and not through your people. If that's a problem for you, Captain, then I guess we'll deal with that however you like. I've had very few choices in the matter since the day we met."
"You've made your feelings known often enough that I couldn't fool myself into thinking otherwise," Chakotay quietly told him, "but you did follow through, Captain Paris, despite everything you associated with my ship."
Tom nodded. "I tried."
"You succeeded."
With another nod, Tom thanked him.
A series of beeps sounded behind the men, and the young man at the ops controls, obviously trying not to look like he'd heard a word of their conversation, said, "We'll be rendezvousing with the Guerdon in fifty-eight minutes."
"Bendera's already below," Chakotay told Tom. "You'll meet him there for the transport. He'll contact Torres in your quarters when he's ready." That said, he nodded toward the door, then turned back to his controls.
Paris did not hesitate to follow the cue, using the doorframe as a crutch to propel him back into the corridor.
Not two minutes after the Liberty stopped alongside the Guerdon, Tom got himself up onto the transporter buffers, his tool roll hanging lazily over his forearm. A few meters away, Bendera got up close to B'Elanna as she approached and slid a few bars of latinum into her jacket pocket. Her stare shot up to his, a little confused and on the verge of insulted.
"Take it," he quietly ordered her, pressing his hand on her shoulder supportively. "It's not much, but your people should have something for your trouble. Besides, it's what Chakotay and Paris had agreed on. Or at least that's what Chakotay told me to tell you."
B'Elanna looked long into the man's eyes, seeing the same frank courtesy and honesty in them she'd known before. Glad as she was to be rid of that ship at last, she hoped he would be well. Indeed, she'd be glad to never see them again, but at least some of them deserved what they were fighting for. She didn't say so much, however, but blinked her acknowledgement and followed Tom onto the transporter pad, her tool kit in one hand, her other hand resting on the latinum. "We're ready," she confirmed.
To some relief, she watched the Maquis move to the control board to send them off himself. He said no goodbyes and he didn't even look as he tapped in the commands. Only once did he glance up, and that with only the most businesslike air as he tapped the board once more.
Suddenly, Bendera was gone, and the Guerdon's grungy deck four bay faced her and Tom once again. The smells of grease and old coolant housings assailed her nostrils; she gladly breathed for more. A smile pressed her cheeks when she turned and saw Ridge, huge and dark and happier than she'd seen him in a long while, deserting the control unit the instant he was sure they were all there.
"Welcome home!" Bounding over to them, he grabbed both the captain and the engineer into his big arms. Pulling back, he laughed at Tom's haggard appearance. "The pirate's life's sure no good for you, Tom!" he proclaimed.
"I must be getting old," Tom rejoined.
"Nah, just conventional."
"You know I'd rather be old."
"Too bad, that, eh?" Laughing, Ridge put his arm around B'Elanna and led them both to the access ladder. "You can climb, can't you, Tom? --Yeah, figures they'd put you in the pit, right back where you started. But Savan's already got you marked up and ready to dissect and I'm right behind you. --I heard your arm got busted, B'Elanna! You both have some explaining to do! Hana's dying for details."
Tom was not surprised--and glad to hear it. "Let's make her suffer until breakfast, okay?"
"That's in five hours."
"Dinner, then."
Grabbing the rung in the access ladder, Tom stopped for a moment. Drawing a deep breath, he looked back at B'Elanna, who with her courage and incredible will still could look so ridiculously tiny in front of Ridge. He felt a smile creep back onto his lips as he drew a deep breath, took in her gaze, then looked up the ladder. They still didn't have that damned lift fixed, and he knew climbing that length was going to easily put him out for the rest of the day. There was no reason they shouldn't have been able to fix that relatively simple piece of equipment, save that no one seemed to think it was important enough. They all were used to the ladders.
Business as usual. It'd be dealt with eventually, like everything else.
"Yeah, it's good to be home," he grinned and climbed on.
"It'd better be!" Ridge laughed, following B'Elanna up the ladder. "After all the trouble we took making this rendezvous!"
"Sorry I put Captain Maryl out," Tom joked behind him.
"God, don't ever call her that. Unlike you, she'll take to it."
Tom snorted and continued slowly up.
Several minutes later, Savan helped him onto her examination table and pulled out her tricorder.
"How much more will you need to do?" he asked.
"I cannot ascertain the course of treatment until I have completed my own analysis."
"And you thought I wouldn't bring you anything back from the Badlands," Tom grinned.
The Vulcan's brow flicked. "I did not suspect you would escape your obligation without guaranteeing more problems for me to contend with."
"It's good to see you, too, Savan."
Watching Tom receive Savan's initial examination, B'Elanna remained silent. Indeed, it was comforting to be back among the people she knew, on a ship she needed no caution to traverse. She looked forward to sleep, a decent outfit after a week in that old jumpsuit, then getting back into the engines. She almost looked forward to seeing how much Ridge and Nadrev were able to do--or weren't able to do, as it were.
At the same time, her unsorted emotions were drawing on her nerves. Shutting off her feelings for the captain was becoming more difficult. As she watched Savan slowly move the tricorder over Tom's patiently still frame, she felt a sense of protectiveness come over her, as though she should be the one continuing her work with him, bantering with him, seeing to it he got to sleep...and woke up again. She almost didn't trust the science tech to get it right, knew the other woman wasn't as familiar with his condition as she was. Closing her eyes, she shuddered and backed up to the wall.
"If everything's all right," she said, looking that time to the chronometer in the panel, "I'd like to get changed, get a shower."
"I would like to examine your arm," Savan told her. "However, it can wait. May I come to your quarters when I am completed here?"
B'Elanna nodded. "That'd be fine. Thanks."
Turning his head to thank B'Elanna before she left, he sighed. The engineer was already gone.
Without knowing why, he'd expected that.
He'd probably never taken a longer sonic shower than he had the afternoon Savan finally released him to his quarters. Hardly moving from his place, leaning against the back wall bar, he reset the unit three times before believing that he'd knocked off the physical evidence of his visit with the Maquis. He wished all the while that the pulses could have zapped the rest of the evidence as well.
He sighed. Apparently, a good deal of independent traders were taking their showers and likely wishing the same, with as much use.
He still wondered if he should try contacting Dejin again. He hoped she'd be all right.
The third cycle done, he stepped out of the unit and into a pair of shorts, slid into his bed and breathed deeply to feel his plush comforter and soft sheets, recently replicated at Deep Space Nine, surround and warm his skin. He thought for a moment that he should truly relish the feel of being back in his bed, but sleep caught up with him first.
He relished it upon waking for about five minutes before Ridge called, asking him about his console and if he'd mind B'Elanna reconfiguring it.
"Do I actually have a choice?" Tom queried, his head still pressed in his pillow.
"Not really, but etiquette is of the utmost importance to us around here."
"Almost forgot, being hung up with the rebels so long." He yawned. "Tell her to have at it."
When the comm clicked off, he remarked to himself how quickly B'Elanna had gotten back into the swing.
"I'd better too, then," he muttered to himself and rolled out of his bunk.
He took another shower before dressing.
When Tom finally appeared on the bridge and looked around, he didn't expect anything to be different, and indeed, nothing was. Even the sight of his engineer, back in her usual dingy trousers and wrap shirt, yanking a part of his panel out, was the only thing that didn't happen every day there.
When Tom served on the Copernicus, a thousand years ago, his captain had gone on an away mission at Surro-Three and suffered typical bad luck. The negations went awry thanks to a third party and the resulting ruckus left the captain with both a broken leg and a phaser wound that landed him in Sickbay for almost a day. His return to the bridge was greeted with applause, his waving it off and a handshake from the XO.
Tom's return, mug in hand, was a silent one, with hardly any notice until he was looking over Savan's shoulder. But then, he knew it was better that way. Canned clapping and a pat on the shoulder could not express nearly so much as a contract liaison's immediate demand for a meeting over some new Hidirin shipping lists, nor the science tech's beckoning him to her panel so he could peruse their improved inventory. Only the engineer didn't look back, but she was head first in a pile of panel and not disposed to dropping everything to say hello.
Tom smiled, taking in for a moment that crappy little Starfleet knockoff bridge, with the dingy blue carpet that still had burn marks in some places from the Hugora incident. Then he looked down at the slowly scrolling list beneath his science tech's fingers and saw what his people were able to do while he and B'Elanna were away.
"Savan, I could kiss you."
She peered at him askance. "I would not recommend you do."
"Where in the hell did you dig up a store of deuterium at DS-Nine? The last time we were there, its running rate was at eight bars per gross."
The Vulcan blinked. "You are not the only individual who might 'call in a favor,' to use your expression, on occasion."
Tom chuckled. "What I'd do to have been a fly on the wall."
Savan did not ask.
"The boys below," Maryl informed him, "were hard at work on the twitches the whole time you were gone."
"They did do a great job," B'Elanna agreed, otherwise undeterred from her work on the connections. "I can stick largely to the warp drive if we don't have any other problems. With that deuterium and the new gas flow separator, I should be able to keep us at warp seven-point-five around the hairpin."
For reasons he knew should have been too simple, Tom was actually felt excited. "That'd be great, B'Elanna. We might just make our initial schedule if that holds up."
"Given no one else gets in our way," she added.
"No chance of that," Tom returned, grinning at the irony and at the returning thought: It was good to be home.
Just coming off that grin, he immediately stiffened when he heard the beep. Blowing a breath, he wondered if he'd always be hardwired to do that when a message came in. Maybe not, he decided, but he knew he'd think about it. Looking over and seeing the Vulcan already hard at work on the security panel, he sighed to know his paranoia had rung true. She was decrypting. "I wonder if we have another cup of sugar," he muttered sardonically.
"It is a coded communiqué from Captain Chakotay," Savan confirmed.
"Imagine that." Tom leaned against the stair rail. "Let's have it."
Savan tapped it on. It was audio only, a quiet, deliberately spoken note, tinged with something unpleasant.
"Captain Paris: I wanted to express my regret for your misfortunes as they related to my ship, the damage to the Guerdon, the loss of your man and the injuries you sustained on your last mission with us. I can't compensate you fairly for any of it. I can take full responsibility for these events, however, and do. I apologize for being unable prevent them. I wish you luck on your regular run."
The engineer had straightened at the voice, then looked back at her captain. His eyes were set somewhere on the viewscreen; his mouth was straight. At the end of the message, his gaze drew down and met hers. There, they shared a long look, knowing, and then again, unsure, too, in more ways than one. Maybe there was nothing to interpret. Maybe there was more than they wanted to.
Either way, it was there. And now it was over.
Or is it? Tom mused, watching her mouth part slightly when she blinked.
"Think we can go over those new lists, Tom?" Maryl asked, obviously not wanting to think about the message and glad it was over.
"Might as well let B'Elanna work in peace," he said, turning away at last.
Jerking her attention back to her work, B'Elanna drew a deep breath as she heard them leave, knowing peace for her, as usual, would take more work than they would ever understand.
(c) D'Alaire M, 2007