Guerdon: Landing Hard

Tom's enjoyment of coffee the next morning was reduced to a few sips and a steady tracing of the mug's lip with his fingers. Sitting in the lounge over his half-eaten toast and eggs, he found his stare locked on the viewport, the stars zipping gratefully by.

Not that he cursed it now, either. Indeed, he had been honest about his offer to release her, just that lately, he hadn't been thinking about running the Guerdon without B'Elanna on it. In just nine months, she was that much at home on their ship, a part of their lives...his life. He at least believed they'd become good friends, looking out for each other, confiding in each other. Having realized he had begun to feel more than that, he had considered taking it a step further, had their life there eventually managed some resemblance of normality.

Naturally, his timing was still lousy. By the time he realized that he would like to and could manage taking it a step further, he was in no position to test the waters with her without looking like an idiot--or worse, desperate. They'd been too busy and too off schedule for him to make any honest attempts after they got back from their journey on the Liberty. Their station visits had been cut short, too, so even just getting a meal together wasn't an option.

Not that she seemed inclined to a friendly date lately. More than before, she was brusque and purposefully busy, and lately had a problem with looking him in the eyes until she absolutely needed to. Probably still getting past her problems on the Liberty on top of playing catch up with the ship and the never ending need for parts, he surmised, and so he didn't press her into anything. Instead, he had planned to try to lure her into something social during the two-day layover at Ulinas, see if they might repeat the few downtime excursions they'd shared. There was a great park-side caf� in Ulinas' capital city he remembered from a couple years ago. He had a feeling she'd have liked it.

Guess I'll have to find something more productive to do while we're there, he resolved with a sigh.

Not that it mattered anymore. A base job on Velir was about the best thing that could happen in every way, especially of late. She should use her talents, that amazing ability to build and deduce and solve. And it didn't mean they'd never meet again. The Guerdon stopped there almost every run.

He had a feeling they wouldn't meet, though. Business sucked people up like that. It was just nice to think about visiting. It made everyone feel better in the mean time.

Blowing a curse under his breath as he shook himself away from the view, Tom got up and dumped his plate and mug into the reclamator. Coming into the corridor and hearing the echoes of the engine room to his right, he turned to look into the sound. I haven't been shot or punched this month, he resolved sardonically, I needed something to keep me honest...not that B'Elanna's not helping out, there.

She insisted she hadn't accepted the position, but she was too smart to turn something like that down. She'd accept it, once she got over feeling bad for leaving, maybe burned a couple bridges along the way. Unlike everyone else, she'd get somewhere in life...

"Morning, Tom!" Ridge piped as he passed with an armful of isolinear connections.

"Just having a walk before I sit down for the day," Tom told him. "B'Elanna around?"

"Thanks." Digging his hands into his pockets, he passed behind the main console wall and down the row of vertical pylons to the middle of the engine room, where the stout little warp drive-that-could pumped and thrummed. Behind that was accelerator control, an open space around which the plasma injectors and flow regulators, coolant assembly and driver coils were housed. Since her first days on the ship, B'Elanna had been busied with those systems, he remembered with a flicker of a grin. He wondered if anyone had serviced that ship as well as she had since its maiden flight.

She happened to glance up from her work before he could say anything, and she stared up at him until he was a couple meters away. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes seemed to search him for a moment before she blinked and asked, "Is there a problem?"

She shrugged. "If nothing blows out today, I shouldn't need you. I'm just working on this injector problem."

"I'm getting there," she said, nodding at the accelerator. "I think the lines might need replacing. Temperature control is fluctuating and the ODN isn't picking it up every time it should, so the plasma flow isn't stable."

"So the PIS isn't regulating the flow from the warp generator into the accelerator."

She grinned, resetting the frequency on her hyperspanner even as she glanced his way. "You're getting better at this."

"I can recommend a tutelage file or two, if you're up to the kinds with no pictures."

"Not even an arrow and bull's eye?" Tom asked with mock complaint. "How will I get past 'turn off ship before beginning repair?'"

"That, Captain, would be your problem." Her smile disappearing, she fished through her toolkit and peered under an access rod. "But I should get this problem solved if I ever plan to jump ship. It's not something you want to deal with between here and Minjau. I'll let you know how it goes or if I need more help."

He took it for all it meant. "I look forward to it," he told her, more smoothly than he meant to at first. But seeing her back on task and moving around to the coolant valves, he said no more as he turned to head forward again. Yeah, that was enough punishment to hold me off until Ulinas, he smirked to himself as he swerved around a bulkhead to get over to the starboard ladder.

He stopped, however, when he heard the whine, like a balloon squealing air. Stepping backwards a pace to peek back into accelerator control, he saw B'Elanna tapping on her tricorder and preparing to bend into the main coolant control housing.

Suddenly, it burst: White steam surged from the central line and hit the engineer dead on. Thrown across the deck, B'Elanna hit an opposite pylon with a familiar crack before landing on the floor, wincing in pain and holding her arm.

Tom leapt to her in four long strides without blinking and was on a knee beside her before she could roll onto her unhurt side. Cupping her head in his hand, he quickly looked her over. Immediately, he could tell she was masterfully trying to get her breath back into her. Klingons were just amazing that way, he was reminded. A throw like that would have taken at least a couple of his ribs and likely knocked him out, but in only seconds, she looked to be recovering. Ice crystals on her hip and side were quickly melting, as well.

Her eyes darted to the assembly. "Lock it down, Tom," she rasped, "the manual control."

Tom nodded and jumped over to the unit to finish what she was about to do. Careful to stand aside of the fried housing, he glanced over the many exposed pieces for a moment, then found the knob arm and turned it. Letting his breath go as he saw the lights go from flashing yellow to a safe blue, he turned to address B'Elanna again when another whine of pressure began to build. "Damn," he hissed and slid around to the main console there. Tapping into the correct system, he switched into the secondaries and locked down the remaining primary coolant injectors.

"With any luck," he said as he watched the system regulate, "the secondaries won't blow until we get out of the room." He returned to B'Elanna's side. Touching her hair again, he offered an appreciative smile. "How are we doing on that law of averages, anyway?"

She coughed a little laugh. "Maybe you're better at this than I thought," she conceded.

"I had to do a lot more of that kind of thing before you came around," he reminded her. "You're the one who changed the room rules when I left you to it."

Her smile faltering, she said nothing to that, only grunted when he gently got his arms behind her and helped her to her feet. Careful to let her check her stability first, Tom led her out.

An hour later, Tom came back into Savan's lab to check how things were going. He knew, of course, that she'd be fine, but he was feeling very weak about his impulses with her since she'd unloaded her news. Stepping into that back room, he got about what he'd expected, too: Savan was patiently preparing an instrument, while a similar expression to the Vulcan's was plastered on the engineer's face, a steady frown and a glassy stare, which turned to him as Savan approached her.

"It is the repeated damage which concerns me," Savan informed him as she moved the regenerator over the break for the third time. "B'Elanna's physiology has been a great benefit with this repeated break. Only to a point, however. She requires specialized treatment to fully restore the bone and tendon's strength."

Tom nodded. "Go ahead and do it, B'Elanna," he told her. "Savan'll make you relieved to jump ship if you don't follow her treatment advice." He snorted. "Hell, you might not wait until we're in orbit."

"I'm already thinking about that," she snapped. Not only had she been there forever and forced to endure the woman's lecture, but she wasn't quite ready to explain her plans, and Tom had effectively started the news without her permission. Maybe it was just a slip, but he seemed already sold on the idea when she hadn't even contacted Jilibrar yet. When Savan closed her regenerator kit, B'Elanna slid from the table to her feet, flexed her hand and nodded at her. "Thanks. I'll be fixing the coolant systems. How far from Ulinas are we?"

"A few more days," Tom told her. "I'll shoot you an estimate when I get back on the--"

"That should be enough time," B'Elanna nodded briskly. "I'll grab Nadrev and start now. We have the parts." With that, she moved quickly out of the lab and turned sharply for the center corridor.

Tom blinked, regarding the hole in the air she'd left behind. "Was it something I said?"

When the viewscreen flickered on and he saw his old friend, Tom couldn't make himself not stare. It was all too familiar.

Rather than the crisp, yellow interior and brightly blinking panels of the Casiat, he easily recognized the smoke stains on the bulkheads and holes in the wall where panels had been removed. In the middle of all that was Dejin, looking very much her usual self in dress and posture, but notably tired and decidedly cross. She obviously knew they were seeing her damaged state for the first time, which had to add embarrassment to the mess of negativity she was enduring. Rather than looking cool and in control, Dejin's life was plainly not that, and there was no way to hide it.

Seeing she was not going to make the first move, Tom leaned back in his seat and cast his gaze askance. "So how was your day, dear?"

Against her will, the Betazoid laughed. She gestured at her bridge. "Just redecorating. I'd long been thinking about a lovely shade of black, but it's not quite there, yet."

"It'd go with your lovely eyes," he replied with mock adoration, then sighed through his smile. "Yeah, I know, Dejin. We've been there."

He nodded. "We'll be paid at Ulinas and need some parts I know you regularly stock."

"Internal sensor pallets, a part-spread and installation gear; a PTC distal arm bracket and injector coils, among some other small parts."

Dejin tapped it all down and read quickly. "I've got nothing in the injector department," she told him. "But the sensor pallets and the brackets I do have. Are these the same ones B'Elanna had before?"

"Good. I don't feel like dealing today." She tapped quickly again on her panel and threw a trajectory onto the viewscreen. "How about there? Two light years off the Hanolan System?"

"Smack dab between Ulinas and Irtrin," Tom nodded, plotting the course in. "Tucked in the rocks. Perfect. We have a day layover at Ulinas, which means we can rendezvous with you in five days."

Tom resisted expressing his sympathies. Dejin was already pissed off; reminding her she was applicable for sympathy wouldn't do her any good. "A one-plus layover at Ulinas, then. I'll contact you again when we're ready to leave and find you wherever you are."

"Take care of yourself, Dejin," Tom told her before the channel was cut. When the screen blackened and he heard the beep to confirm the channel was off, he blew a breath. "I'll remember that the next time I'm up for feeling sorry for myself."

Maryl sighed her agreement. "I never thought I'd see her dragged down like that."

"Everything's prey to change lately," Tom quietly replied as he dumped their transmission record, then set his ship back onto its original heading.

Ridge smacked the hatch button as soon as they arrived at the loading bay. As the gangway squealed and lowered to the Ulinas dock's tarmac, he put his arm around his wife and breathed the air, looked around at the busy base center before them. "Land at last," he sighed happily and looked down at her. "It's almost like old times, how well this run's gone."

"And you know the run's not over yet," she reminded him. "There's plenty of time for things to go wrong."

He laughed and started them down the gangway. "I think sometimes, Hana, that you curse the world to make sure you won't be disappointed."

"It works for me," she grinned and leaned into his arm as they turned for the main building.

Coming out after them, Tom watched as they disappeared among the rivulets of base denizens, visitors and traders. Maryl was off to collect their pay, Ridge going to arrange the offloading of the bio-material they'd brought from Ibaten, the two moved swiftly, anxious to have their work done before taking their pre-arranged leave to the mountains. Aside from it being their fifteenth anniversary, Tom knew they didn't have much else to do until their small purchases came in, plus he thought they had both earned a nice break. He personally arranged for their lodgings and to pick up Ridge's shift with Nadrev's help.

Leaning against the strut, Tom leaned his head back a little and drank in the sun. If there was one thing Tom honestly missed about being stuck on a ship, it was for the lack of sun and fresh air.

What I wouldn't do for a holodeck, he mused, possibly for the hundredth time. He sighed, knowing the likelihood of ever attaining that particular and power-draining luxury was farther away than ever now. But then he shrugged and told himself to stop doing that--also possibly for the hundredth time.

Ulinas' Aj-Asaro Landing Docks were the most commonly used docks among the traders. The Guerdon always landed on that side of the base, except the last time they were there, thanks to the Fidlor Group. Tom knew every knob on that side of the base by then. Like everywhere else, though, changes had been made in response to the latest security issues. A couple nearby attacks and a few captured Maquis had sent a panic through that quiet, diverse world. As a result, security throughout the capital had been ramped up, with native forces deployed to every section of the trade station and no trader or deal going unexamined. Having seen similar responses on all his stops that month, Tom wasn't surprised when he was contacted by base security and was told he would have to sign for his visitor, though the man was a resident of Ulinas and had arranged his trip a week with the local authorities a week ago.

"We can't be too careful these days, Captain," the security officer assured him. "As you know, having seen personally what the Maquis can do."

"And as always, we appreciate you many efforts, Officer Gafirsu," Tom replied dryly and pushed himself to stand. He'd be passing B'Elanna on the way down. He'd tell her, then get going on his own plans for that afternoon.

Ten minutes later, Tom reached out and pressed his thumb to the PADD accept his engineer's father aboard his ship. "Thanks," he told the officer, waiting until he had moved away to add, "for looking in all the wrong places." Then he looked at John Torres, who stood with about the same look on his face as was there the last time Tom had seen him. "But I guess if it makes them feel better..." Shrugging, he shook John's hand in greeting and jerked his thumb towards the innards of his ship. When John was all the way in, he pushed the button to close the hatch. "I'll take you up."

John almost tripped for staring around at the bay they entered. "Thank you, Captain Paris," he said quietly, then darted his stare back down to the man before him. "I overheard your conversation with Gafirsu. I take it you've been attacked by the Maquis, too?"

"There isn't a ship on the border who hasn't," Tom replied. "We managed to survive it."

John followed Tom to the ladders before speaking again. "B'Elanna's said nothing about any trouble."

"She's had enough of fixing the damage. I don't blame her for not wanting to relive it, even in a letter. With any luck, though, she won't have to anymore."

Tom sawed his teeth together, slumping slightly. That was the second time he had done that, and he suddenly realized he was trying to make the idea commonplace so it wouldn't hurt so damned much. He was coming to know himself too well--well enough to know, too, that the tactic would ultimately fail. "Ask B'Elanna," he finally said and started them up the ladders, knowing she'd be pissed at him for good by day's end.

She didn't force down the smile that found her as she exited the medical facility, flexing her hand and rolling her shoulder. She hated to admit it sometimes, but Savan was rarely wrong. Her arm felt like it had never endured a bump, but rather was strong, warm and ready to pick up something to eat. Walking over to her father, who had patiently waited the hour it took for the doctors to work on her, her smile held without effort, to her surprise. It was good to see him.

"I know a great place for just such a meal," John told her, falling beside his daughter to lead her out of the clinic. "They have interesting salads and savory bread wraps that could pass for a whole meal. Very good food."

"Sounds great." B'Elanna slid her hands into her pockets and matched his pace, relishing in the warmth that greeted them as they exited the building and set off down the city's main avenue.

Indeed, the day had improved greatly. She'd rather been full of dread when Tom breezed through in the middle of her diagnostics and told her that her father was on his way.

Though put off, she hadn't expected the flush of nervousness she felt when Tom led the man into her engine room. She felt her shoulders all but meet her ears and her mouth press down. It was still weird to see him at all. Seeing him in her workplace almost felt like an invasion...and it was a little embarrassing, too, considering the condition of the space. Her nerves unchecked, she pointedly told him that she'd hoped to meet him after her appointment. He admitted that he was anxious to see her again, and he apologized, too, for disturbing her.

B'Elanna grudgingly shrugged, despite the chill his kindness inspired. His going away was not something she thought of pleasantly. Realizing this managed to calm her, though, re-focus her attention. "I have to leave in fifteen minutes to the Biaadral Medical Facility to get my arm re-mended," she told him, wiping her hands on her vest before removing it. Staring into her father's eyes, seeing the same, steady longing in them, she sighed to herself and thought quickly. "If you don't mind waiting, you could show me how to get there."

John smiled. "I know exactly where it is," he said. Thinking a moment longer on her destination, he asked, "What happened to your arm that you would need a corrective procedure?"

"It's a long story, not worth repeating," she dismissed and led the way out with a gesture to Nadrev, who moved to finish running her numbers.

She did not look back at Tom, who had begun a diagnostic nearby and was all but burning a hole in the back of her head. She knew he had to be.

Worse than looking back was not knowing what was going on behind it. Then again, he'd been outwardly supportive of her mending her relationship with her estranged father. Maybe he was thinking about that, how far they seemed to have come. And indeed, they had, she knew with a good deal of satisfaction. Uncomfortable as it had been at first--and probably always would be when they approached certain topics--she really thought they were making progress.

So maybe that was what Tom was thinking. She was content to believe that, particularly while sitting on a table with doctors circling and nothing else to do but stare at the lights. Her imagination didn't need to go any further.

Blinking, B'Elanna glanced over at her father, who gazed at her askance, truly curious but ready, it seemed, to back off upon her word. He stood not six centimeters taller than she was, boots included, and she remembered that he and her mother were nearly the same height.

She shrugged. "I was thinking about how strange it felt to be here with you. I'm not used to it, yet."

"I'm still adjusting to reality, too," John nodded. "Strange...but good, though, I hope?"

With that, she turned with him into a side street and looked at where he gestured, an open-air caf� along a flowery park and violet blue river. Just a nook in the middle of that city, with quiet conversation among the diners and the occasional chatter of birds, it was possibly the most inviting thing she'd seen outside her work in as long as she could remember. Smiling and giving her father a nod, she let him escort her the rest of the way.

True to her father's words, the food was very good--or maybe she was just very hungry. Probably both, as she breezed through a very large fruit and green salad and a full serving of cheese wraps, enjoying a glass of faux berry wine on the side. She hadn't thought about tearing into the replicator again any time soon, but she was tempted to ask for the molecular breakdown of both dishes. Off to the side, the wide river bubbled and rippled, sending the occasional cooling breeze their way--not cold, but enough to ease the warm afternoon sun. She always forgot after long stretches in space what planetary life was like.

As though he'd read her mind, John said softly, "It's a little like Kessik here, isn't it?"

She blinked. "I'd thought the same about the Jetad Province when we were there, probably even more." Her lips turned slightly up. "When we were there, I realized that I actually missed home a little, though I didn't want to."

"It is a beautiful place--Jetad. Good people." Eyeing her thoughtful stare, seeing it drift far away once again, John leaned back in his seat and folded his napkin. "May I ask you something?" he finally queried. Seeing his daughter's silent assent, he continued, "Captain Paris told me you might not have to worry about fixing the ship soon, and he told me to ask you what he meant by that. Are you leaving?"

"He seemed a little uneasy about it," John clarified. "I don't think he meant to say anything."

"It doesn't keep him quiet, though," she responded. "I think he's more excited for me than I am." With that, she explained the offer to work at Velir Prime to her father, and that she still had not decided. She made certain to emphasize that--though with her ire piqued, she felt once again that she might decide there and then--after pitching Tom out an airlock. "It's a big move," she finished. "I'd like to make sure it's the right one before asking to have my contract voided."

"What would be wrong about it?" John asked enthusiastically. "Your captain is obviously thinking about your welfare; he's right to be excited for you." He nodded to confirm his statement when her gaze darted to his again. "It's a great opportunity, B'Elanna, a stable position in a clean and safe environment. I know the Velir base. They have extra programs and training facilities that as an employee, you'd have full access to at no charge. Their advance rate is very good. Velir itself isn't very exciting. Most staff there travel offworld a great deal because of it. But going there would be a wonderful direction for you, I'm sure."

She shook her head, biting down her first answer to that. "Part of me doesn't like leaving them in a lurch. They got me in a lurch and I remember what the systems looked like. I don't like delivering that right back to them."

"Maybe you could help them recruit? Or train one of your techs to take over for you?"

"Yes, you're right." He paused. "Well, I know they're your friends and you care about what happens to them, but honestly, they survived before you, and though they've benefited greatly by having you there, they'll survive if you leave. If your captain is supportive and you believe it's a good fit, nothing should stop you from taking what's best for you."

B'Elanna held his assured stare for several seconds, then finally nodded and leaned back in her seat. "I'll make my decision when the Guerdon docks at Irtrin. That's when I told Jilibrar to expect my answer."

"You'll have thought it out a lot by then," John nodded and dropped it. Looking around the table, he reached for the decanter of wine. "Would you like some more, B'Elanna?"

Her lips turned up. Not only was she glad he was ready to move on to another topic, she realized how that simple gesture wore well on her--how much all of it was. Another glass of wine and a nice dinner on base, like anyone anywhere, a father and a daughter sharing some time. She still felt strange, a little out of body, about being there with him, but she knew she could get used to that sort of...normalcy. Maybe a little stability would be worth the pain of cutting her ties with the Guerdon. And maybe she was more ready for a steadier lifestyle than she thought before. Maybe it was indeed time to move on.

It never changed, he knew, the same sight, the same smells, a base, a dock, a bar somewhere wiping the drudge of a long run away, if only for a while.

Then again, it had changed, because he stood before it yet again and dreaded going in there for all his weakness and knowing he was feeling down, knowing he had things to deal with that he didn't quite want to.

He was going to lose her, when he was just latching onto the reality of having fallen for her. Too much too late and a usual slap of bad luck--but if he cared at all for her, he would never, never let her know he hated the idea of her destination. Rather, he at least would do what he could for her and the ship all before she left--a little something to help her leave with her conscience in tact. He suspected she wouldn't like leaving unfinished work behind her. It was worth revisiting that old haunt.

You'll go in and you'll order water--no, seltzer water. It's no big deal. You don't want to drink. You want credits. Easy as that.

Oddly enough, it was easy as that. Unlike the last time he'd stared in that window, he wasn't looking for an out or an escape.

Still, this time, he knew that B'Elanna couldn't show up and save his ass if he screwed up.

Drawing a deep breath, Tom propelled himself into the bar, swerving around the hostess with an easy grin and a gesture forward. Immediately, he found the bartender, who smiled at him and pulled up a glass. Even after a year and hundreds of other customers, the man still knew what kind of tumbler to pull. That alone earned a good tip.

"Just a carbonated water, Kivrom," Tom told him and smiled with frighteningly automatic affect when the man's reaction questioned the young captain's very identity. "Yes, you heard right. Carbonated water." Leaning up on the bar as the puzzled bartender got what he wanted, he asked, "Anyone on the table today?"

"We've got a new self-proclaimed hobbyist," smiled Kivrom as he slid the clear, bubbling glass across. "He'll be off shift soon."

The man laughed. "Oh, so that's what it is! Payback for all the crates you helped me unload."

"Well, in truth, it's a little more than that." Tom popped a small stack of credits back.

Two hours later, Tom slipped a fifth stack of chips back into his palm and sank them into his pocket. "Another round, Eddaf-Itto?" The young officer laughed. "Let's have a break, shall we?"

Tom smiled and nodded. He could afford a healthy break by then. Setting his stick down, he motioned to the waiter and handed him his glass. Breathing with satisfaction, he glanced over at his friendly opponent. Seemingly unafraid to shell out his entire ration of credits--obviously, the kid worked for Starfleet and didn't need money--he'd still not been too very easy to beat. The Ulinian had some certain talent, making Tom's wins more fun than he could remember. Being able to take his pick at the supply depot, thus achieving his goal for the day, he'd been able to relax and even chat a little, too.

He leaned back and smiled again when his refilled glass came back to him. "So, what department are you in Eddaf-Itto? --Oh, sorry. This day and age, I shouldn't ask that."

"I'm not in any security position," the younger man shrugged. "I'm only in requisitions."

Better and better, "Must be nice," he commented, sipping his water. "Steady job, good hours."

"It kept me from leaving Ulinas," Eddaf-Itto admitted pleasantly. "I was thinking of Starfleet in my last year of school, but then I was accepted into the training program here."

"Worked out great then, didn't it?" Tom returned then drew another sip. Blinking, he sipped once more, then set the glass down, breathed as all-too familiar warmth flowed through his abdomen and into his limbs. That wasn't seltzer, and his gut was already rejecting it. "Shit," he hissed, closing his eyes.

Tom shook his head at first, then turned his stare toward the bar. Geddtra was pouring the drinks, and like Kivrom, she had obviously remembered his usual. Kivrom was probably on a break. "I think I need to..." Then the drink really hit his gut. "Oh God. Get me outside--out the back if you know--know where that is."

"I do," the young man quickly assured him and helped Tom out by the arm. Getting down the rear hall in less than a half-minute, they passed Kivrom coming back in. The bartender instantly turned back around and got Tom's other arm as his knees started to fail him.

Tom dragged for breath and tried with all his might to hold it down until they got him through the rear of the building. His hands and legs shook and his vision blurred--his whole body both heated and recoiled in a way he had never experienced. Tom stumbled on--five more meters, then three, then one. When the back doors were open, he fell across the alley and onto his knees, retching until he was doubled over, hacking out every milliliter of the drink, the water and likely everything he'd eaten in the last week. The more he vomited, the more his stomach seemed to produce. Coughing, gagging, it started again, and he meanwhile fought to keep his elbows locked. They jiggled and he rocked, but he managed to stay above it as it began a third time.

Behind him, he heard Eddaf-Itto say there was a doctor back in the lounge. Kivrom hurried in to get him.

Finally calming, falling back on his heels, emptied, sore, exhausted and still a little dizzy, Tom coughed a laugh despite it all. Any other place--any other dom-jot player--would have left him there to rot after a good fleecing--if they'd have taken him out at all. "My luck can't be that bad, then," he rasped, checking his humiliation, if anything. Spitting a couple times, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned a bleary stare back to a visibly shocked Eddaf-Itto. "Thanks."

"Do you think you're very ill?" the young man asked. "Should I take you to the facility nearby?"

And meet B'Elanna there reeking of puke. Great. "No," he muttered, his eyes narrowing to think more of it, put a few more pieces together and realize... Damn you, Madsi. I know that had to be you, you bastard. Letting Eddaf-Itto help him back to his feet, he did not hesitate to take the bench by the back door. He still hardly felt like he was in his body, except behind his eyes, which were swollen and throbbing.

A minute later, the doctor came out, markedly unhappy to have been pulled from his time off to see after a drunk, or so it seemed until Tom explained what had been done to him some months ago and what he suspected was the reason for his sudden illness. Waving a tricorder over the captain's midsection, the doctor nodded.

"Yes, Captain, you have an implant which prohibits the absorption of alcohol. In short, you're allergic to it."

"Yeah, and I think someone mixed me something besides water." Leaning back, Tom snorted. "The first time I'm able to get it right and I get a sip of a screwup. I can't win."

"You've not regressed since the procedure?" the doctor queried, still tapping at the tricorder as it picked up more data.

"Almost, but no," Tom answered. "I didn't' even know for sure if the doc had injected anything--though I thought he might."

The doctor's lips turned up. "Then that's a benefit, Captain Paris. Seems to me you passed his test." His smile grew when Tom looked up to him once again, questioning. "You didn't regress. Think about it, Captain. In the mean time, I have my medkit inside. Stay here, and I'll regulate your blood pressure and treat the remaining effects of this reaction. Then perhaps you two can finish your game."

Tom shook his head. "No, doc, I think I'm done for the day," he said, more thoughtfully then. "Thanks."

Eddaf-Itto sat by him. "May I help you spend your credits, then?" he asked. "I happen to recall your ship has a parts request on file."

Tom closed his eyes, chuckling to himself. "Better and better," he breathed, at first in disbelief, and then knowing the doctor had a point. His mouth tasted of acid and his head was pounding, but he had swerved temptation--and despite his gloomy start that day, he hadn't even thought about drowning his feelings. Indeed, it was slowly dawning on him that this time, it really was different.

B'Elanna turned her stare up from her readouts and found Tom striding past the warp core and around to her. "It's not here again yet...or did it come yet?"

"Courtesy of Eddaf-Itto," he grinned, gratefully feeling his smile as he pressed the slip into her small hand. It had been a long while since he'd cleaned a table. Maybe feeling low and obsessive really can lead me in the right direction, he thought wryly. "I had everything transported to the control room," he continued, leaning against the brace beside B'Elanna's panel. "It's not a full set, but he couldn't find any more. He's having a buddy track down Dejin for me with their big scanners to make up the difference."

B'Elanna stared down at the slip and read the contents: Primary plasma injector coils, including all the installation lines and duranium support brackets. Peering up at him, she did not try to hide her surprise at the parts and his liveliness, the like she'd not seen since the last time they were on Ulinas. "Who did you shark this time?" she slowly queried.

"I got you hooked on rummy." He took another step closer. "I'll get you to the dom jot table one of these days. It's only a matter of time."

She pursed her lips into a crooked smile as she glanced over the progress. "According to your daily reminders, you don't have much of that."

"You assume you'll be done with me after you're gone and living amongst the washed and well off," he returned in a beat.

She suddenly realized that he was standing at the corner of the control panel and looking directly down at her. Their noses would touch with a half step closer. She could feel his breath, his heat, his energy. His light blue eyes were sure and intent in hers as he returned her every move--challenging her, making her respond to him. Why am I letting this happen again?! her mind screamed as she felt herself leaning on her toes.

But then, she breathed, remembering he always got a little excited and playfully intense when he was in "win mode."

And you want him there, she told herself before she could shut the thought down.

"The control room?" she said briskly, shutting down her station. "I'll have a look at them."

Moving around him, she quickly left him standing at the station, following her with his eyes as she disappeared. Only when she was gone, standing in the hole she'd yet again left in her wake, did his brow furrow and his mind turn it over properly that time.

Tom stood there for nearly a minute, in fact, locked in on her point of exit, knowing for certain that Savan nailed it--that it was what he'd said, and what he did, and had been doing. It was him. He might have been along the wayside for the better part of his twenties, but he'd been around the block enough times to sense a positive hit. Even so, he suddenly had to wonder how long she'd been attracted to him. In a moment, he had already ticked off a handful of events that showed her hand. In another moment, he knew why B'Elanna was leaving, leaving him in that room, leaving the Guerdon and shutting the door hard behind her.

The space outside the Hanolin system was what navigators liked to call "crowded." Outside of the large, rambling system, the Gitta Nebula, a small, greenish gas cloud sat right on the Federation border. A rippling stream of asteroids surrounded it, trickling out a series of random tachyon eddies that regularly sucked in unsuspecting prey. Not quite the best place to hold a meeting, Tom had smirked to himself when he plotted it out, but given most ships avoided the area when possible, Tom and Dejin agreed upon further conversation they'd feel safer there. Both starting their careers as pilots, the conditions certainly didn't bother them as much as they knew they should.

"Switching to manual." He tapped off the automated guidance control and maneuvered his ship over and around the rocks. It was almost too bad he didn't have the little cruiser he'd first visited that area in, back during his assignment to the Copernicus, when he'd been loaned out to run a surveillance mission. He'd had a lot of fun there...

He frowned. Or maybe it's better I don't have that kind of maneuverability now. "Yeah."

His eyes held to his board as he steered his chunky, old ship through another series of rocks. His mouth remained turned down, and he didn't think to straighten it. He hadn't slept well since they left Ulinas. Without her deserving it, he blamed B'Elanna for making him like that and running away. But at least they'd have the last parts they needed and enough time to get them in before hitting Velir. All the general maintenance stuff could wait until they got a new engineer.

"God damnit," he mumbled, thinking about having to interview for a new person. How the hell am I going to find anyone I'll be satisfied with? he asked himself, but knew he would. B'Elanna would disembark and he would take the best person he could find, and if that one didn't work out, then they wouldn't get a new contract in six months. It was business, it was a ship, and he needed to get past that--and her.

Tom jerked the ship up and out of the way as an eddy came up fast on them. Diving again between a couple of small asteroids, he shot a look back. "I thought you were warning me!" he snapped at Savan.

"You are obviously distracted," she replied, withholding what he knew she would suggest next were she any more apt to tell him what to do.

With that, Tom pulled the Guerdon around and into the preplanned coordinates, ducking back a little to make room for the Casiat.

Waiting, he kicked the case of latinum softly with his foot. It was half of the pot with a portion of his reserve, in case Dejin was in a very bad mood. He was willing to give her whatever she needed for the parts, though. They had to have their sensors in good order, and certainly none of it would matter at all if the starboard power transfer conduit came crashing down on their toes, a sort of feat he'd seen enough of already.

And he wanted to tell his old friend that she'd saved his skin again. Maybe that would make her suffering a little less acute. Not much less, he was certain. He knew where she was...

He also wondered why, if she was working with the Maquis, she hadn't scored the same deal with protection. Maybe the Maquis had sucked her in another way, but it didn't make sense that her was still that beat up when she was running their supplies. --Or at least he assumed that was what she'd been doing, as he and others in their class had.

He'd get his information soon enough, he knew, as the battle-streaked Casiat slid into their meeting place and settled itself nicely next to the Guerdon.

Dejin's face appeared before them a moment later, though she wasn't looking at the screen. "Keep an eye on them, then," she ordered someone behind her, then turned forward. Looking at Tom, she nodded quickly. "Good. You're up."

"Good to see you again," Tom said, eyeing every evidence fight on her bridge. There were many--and even some new ones. "Can we meet, or do we--"

"Sorry, Tom," Dejin cut in, glancing back at her ops man, "but we don't have time for that. We think a Maquis ship tracked us coming in here, so we don't have much time. Gillens didn't catch it until we pulled up. He's watching."

"Okay." He tapped the latinum case into a place where she could see it. "I still want to have a word with you if we can."

"I have the brackets and the sensor half pallet," she told him, "plus all the installation gear and the iso nodes you asked for on the side. I think four bars, fifteen strips for the lot will do it."

"You know where I'm getting the difference," Tom shot back. "Stay the hell out of it!"

His retort took even Dejin aback. "I'm willing to deal down a little," she assured him.

"We don't have time to barter, I'm covering the difference and I want you to have it," was Tom's reply. Leaning down to the box, he took out the appropriate amount and pushed the box further out for her. "Transport the parts to the deck two workroom?"

"Doing it now," Dejin responded. As the box disappeared and Savan confirmed the transport below deck, Dejin turned her gaze at her old friend askance. "I've meant to tell you, Tom, that your looks have suffered some great improvement, but your mood's not tagging along. What's up with you?"

"Lots," he told her sourly, then added, "But there's one thing in particular, you should know about."

Seeing her relax a little made him do the same. Leaning back, too, he drew a deep breath and started in the middle of everything he knew she'd find out eventually. He wished he could talk to her about everything that was going on. He needed her particular wisdom just then. "A couple months ago, I was contracted to run a setup for--"

"Maquis ship on approach!" came Gillens' voice from behind Dejin. "They're one parsec off the port!"

Dejin ran to his post to see it. "Get the hell out of here!" she barked at Tom as she ran to her navigation control. "Deal's done! They'll tag us both if we're caught."

"I was about to tell you how we'd been granted some protection," Tom said, starting the impulse drive and glancing back. "Savan, tell B'Elanna." "I suspected they'd gotten to you, too," Dejin said as she kicked on her systems, "but there's no such thing as protection anymore. We had it, too, until a few weeks ago. New rules for everyone--everyone but them. The sects are severed and really don't care about blasting another sect's pigeon straight into hell as long as our cargoes go undamaged."

Tom needed no more warning than that. "Then you'd better beat me out of here, then way you look. --Savan, raise shields!" Whipping them up and out of their hole, he swore to himself that he wasn't surprised and damn the Maquis anyway for being as true to their word as any other power playing dice on the border. "We're off. Good luck, Dejin!"

With that, she spun and banked out into the rocks as well, throwing back a series of long phaser shots directly into the face of the Maquis ship.

Tom glared at that--the blatantly illegal weaponry at work, obviously recent upgrades, because he knew Savan would've known about them before. Biting back his greed for just half that much firepower, Tom popped the Guerdon into full impulse and tapped his fingers on the board. The warp drive was still powering up. They still needed that PTC repair before warp could activate more immediately.

"Come on," he breathed, zigzagging them through a series of asteroid trails, hoping to throw them off a little. It didn't seem to be working. The Maquis had already broken off from the Casiat and was lining up a shot. "Come on, I can't afford a firefight right now."

Suddenly, a line a phaser fire came their way, knocking out their aft deflector and the kicking the crew forward in the bargain.

"Guess I'll just have to budget that in, then," Tom grumbled, then turned them back and through the asteroids again.

"No, I'll be taking us out into open space, instead," Tom replied, "where they'll have a nice clean shot. Saves time, right?"

Tom braced his feet below his station and tried to move them out of the way. The blast knocked them all to the left.

"*We have hull damage on deck three!*" B'Elanna reported shortly, obviously in a full run across the deck. "*We're sealing it! --And secondary sensors are offline!*"

"Forty?! Damnit!" Dropping to half-impulse, Tom drove the Guerdon out of the way of a long row of asteroids in full spin, then looked ahead a little. The Gitta Nebula was right there, and one of its many arms dipped into the steam of rocks. Running a quick scan, Tom sped to full impulse again and took off towards it. "B'Elanna! Can you light up a tachyon dump?"

"*I'm a little busy for... Yes! Yes, we can! But you'd better be ready to jump out of the way!*"

"And they're not aware of beating the snot out of a tradeship, anyway?" he returned, then grabbed his console to keep from smacking it when a blast punched the whole ship forward. "B'Elanna, add some waste to the mix!"

"*Done! --They're going for the deflector! I'm compensating, more power to the shields--and the dump's ready! But you'd better jump before--*"

"Ten seconds!" Tom yelled, driving them directly into the arm. Another hit and Tom heard a blast and sizzle behind him. He didn't look. Warp drive was coming online and B'Elanna was ready to go. The streams of gas surrounded them and Tom circled underneath it then came back over, sliding up the gaseous arm for another couple of seconds. The sleek little Maquis ship was just touching the end of it...

A second later, a flood of tachyons mixed with tricarbonate gas spit out of the belly of the Guerdon, propelling a bright green firestorm down the arm of the nebula.

Tom punched in their previous trajectory and slapped the control. The Guerdon lurched around and, with a slight jerk, pounced off into warp.

Savan eyed her board, ignoring the curiosity around her. Finally, she blinked at her station's response. "The Maquis ship does not appear to be following--presently."

Tom blew a breath and fell back into his seat. "Now let's hope they don't find Dejin," he said, looking over at his armrest monitor. "So, let's see how much they did this--"

"--Time." Tom sighed. "Okay then, let's hope they don't look this way." Looking at a thoroughly disgusted Maryl, he added, "And maybe the base on Hanolin might throw a repair vessel at us?"

She instantly went to work on the crackling panel before her. "How about hoping this message gets through a fried sensor board?"

"*We're going to need some more hands down here when you're able,*" B'Elanna told them, then exhaled. "*--Ridge, get the other end of that. --That deathtrap of a coolant assembly collapsed onto the deck and I'll need everyone here to help me get it resecured. Warp went back offline as a safety measure.*"

"*It was waiting to happen!*" she responded. "*There's no way I could have stayed ahead of that! Now that'll probably need a full rebuild, too.*"

"Just make me a shopping list, okay?" Tom told her, struggling to get the long-range sensors to send him back something besides spaghetti.

"I've a got a few problems of my own up here, B'Elanna, in addition to the many of yours. We all knew things were getting worse, but I'd hoped we'd be able to manage at least one run without getting a few holes blasted in our side by our old buddies."

"We were protected from Chakotay's people blowing our asses to kingdom come," Tom shot back. "But he's not the only clown in the circus out here, and you're a fool to think otherwise, particularly after being where we've been. And by the way, while I think venting is good and you've earned it to a degree, I promise you, B'Elanna, I don't have the time right now to go over the long list of who's to blame for any of this, so get off my back. Get to what you can and we'll be down as soon as we're able. Let's fix what we can before someone else decides they want a chunk of us."

He heard her take a breath to respond. With a wave of his hand, he slapped off the comm.

How many times she'd come into the lounge and seen him like that, she couldn't count by then. Hunched over in that worn brown coat, hair but an afterthought with a brush of his fingers, his long, steady hands surrounding a mug of coffee, his eyes on the viewport, lost somewhere in another galaxy, it seemed--and yet, he was totally there every time he turned and looked back at her.

"Ridge and Savan are finishing up," she quietly informed him as she tapped in her choice, a sandwich and a coffee. It would get her through the night. "It's going well."

"If you could check in with Nadrev in the deflector control room and run the backup diagnostic, that'd save me some time."

"Warp drive is stable and the PTC output is back into the ninetieth percentile, which is fine." She pulled out her tray, then programmed a side of coleslaw. To her surprise, she'd never tasted that old fashioned salad until Tom and Ridge helped program the new replicator, dreaming aloud to each other about barbecue picnics. Though she shook her head at their distractions, the new dish was an instant favorite with her...though she tried not to let on until Ridge noticed its frequency on her plate. "But I'm going to be on repair duty at least another three days, and then I'll install the sensor pallet. We'll fix the hull at Irtrin if we can get the parts."

Closing her eyes to the cheery LEDs for a moment, B'Elanna released a sigh and went to take the seat across from the captain. Catching his full attention, she drew another breath and said, "Look, I apologize. For what happened earlier? I was wrong to go off on you like that, especially over an open comm."

His lips ghosted upwards. "Don't worry about it," he quietly replied. "I know it's hard to stay cool when the room's falling down around you."

"I should know better, though. I just...it just comes out, and I don't like it--and it's still wrong of me. I know you're not to blame for anything going on here. You've done all you could to keep us going."

He accepted that with a small but grateful nod. "Thanks. I'm sorry for blasting back. I know you know what's going on."

"So," she continued, trying to get away from her apology, now that she'd made it, "it's getting worse, now."

"Yeah, and it'll get worse still when Starfleet or Cardassia finally makes a move, or if someone else sticks their foot in the puddle." He made a wave with a gesture of his hand. "Everything overflows."

"The usual: Whoever might be interested in the resources at play in the region--or the power. There's so much that can happen. I remember stories coming back about the Border Wars, when I was a kid. It happened in this same region; my dad saw the hard side of that fight here, too. When he got back, I remember eavesdropping on the crew when they talked about the bloodshed and the firefights, the tortures...my father included." He nodded at her, then went on, "Then the Talarians got involved and everything they'd been working on blew up in their hands."

"Leave it to the Talarians to kick a bomb," B'Elanna frowned. She'd had her own run-ins with a few members of that race at Ibaten. She was forced to bring Ridge in as an oversized fly swatter.

"Their double-teaming was part of the reason it was so hard for the Federation to manage a truce." Tom snorted. "Naturally, the Cardassians went right out and broke the agreements, but now the Maquis are in it, instead." He shrugged, not trying to lighten what he knew was true. "It'll be better that you got out now. --Really, B'Elanna, I don't know what's going to happen here, but it's going to be bad. It'll be a smart move for more than your qualifications."

For all the returned camaraderie she'd felt just then--a really good feeling, to talk to him as they had come to--she stared at him now, insulted that he just had to go back to pressing her. He just couldn't drop it and let her think for herself. "You want me to go that badly, Tom, just go ahead and dissolve the contract, get it over with. I'll save you the trouble of even going to Velir. I'll hop a trip over with an Irtrin transport."

"Our final Hidirin drop off is scheduled at Velir, B'Elanna," he quietly reminded her, then sighed. "I'm sorry, but this is getting to me in so many ways, I don't know what to think sometimes. One thing's sticking out, though."

"When I first signed you up, it was with the idea that we could help each other and fix up this ship somehow, as the latinum could be collected." He laughed derisively. "Boy, was I delusional. We have everything opposite to that now, and really, B'Elanna, you shouldn't be hung up in ship's business, either. Everyone else can deal with being stuck in neutral. Hell, they pretty much design to be, so I've never had to think about them being there."

B'Elanna was surprised. "I don't think Maryl or Ridge or the others have futures any less worth seeing to."

Tom snorted and leaned back in his seat. "Are you kidding? Look at them, B'Elanna."

"Ridge is a fine technician," he returned, "but he learned everything on the road and never got around to using that brain of his for more than basic engineering. Maryl paid to get her entire family to move to Bajor and makes sure they live comfortably, but she never visits, never contacts them, even though she had no problem with them and we're regularly at DS-Nine. She's so stuck in this life that she's afraid to look outside of it. Or, maybe I just don't have their brand of faith. They have no dreams, no plans, and they're going nowhere. Nadrev's just trying to get by, too. He'll be a grade-two tech for life. Maybe he can live with it, but even he knows he's smart enough for better. Savan--hell, she went through all the rigors of a Vulcan education, along with a great run at Starfleet Academy, but never graduated into anything. She reports to me then goes to pick apart flowers every day, five years now on this ship. She was on her former ship ten years, doing about the same thing.

"You're all great friends that I couldn't do without, and I'm not saying we all have to have ambitions, but no one here's living up to themselves--that goddamned potential--remember us talking about that? I sometimes think it's simply because they never had the confidence or drive to take it a step further. I thought I did, but I burned myself badly enough to have to take what I can get and watch the people around me stand still when they do have a choice."

Staring deeply into his engineer's dark eyes, so full of herself, so alive with emotion and wit, curiosity and regard, he concluded more softly, "Yeah, I think you're wasting your time here being stuck on 'repair duty.' I don't want to see you walk away--I don't want to lose you--but you're worth a hell of a lot more than what I can offer you here. Really, you deserve so much more, B'Elanna. I wouldn't care about you at all if I tried to dissuade you from getting everything you could."

B'Elanna continued to stare into his unbroken gaze for several seconds after he finished. She hardly knew what to do but let his words sink in. There was so much there, indeed, she needed that minute.

At last, Tom stood, making the break for them. "I'll go see how Nadrev's doing." With that, he got his mug, walked across the room and set it in the reclamator.

B'Elanna slumped a little when he was gone, the weight of his presence and his words removed with him. But the content remained.

He cared about her. She knew it before, but she wondered how much. She was starting to wonder...

She did not move, however. All but forgetting her untouched sandwich, she slid her hands around her still warm mug and let her gaze fall out onto the stars, racing by.

Tom's eyes drifted up and around winding the inner coil that was the Guerdon's deflector housing. Scars from the past, months old and brand new, patches and parts from over four sectors worth of depots, marked the assembly like a series of bandages from different hospitals. Old, knotty, a pesky patient that had to be serviced and serviced well, only to be beat up again...and again. Eventually, the old bastard would hiss a final curse and die, just no one could say when.

The tricorder Nadrev had helpfully given him hung limply in his long fingers. His lips were pressed together.

No real weapons to speak of, a twenty-something year old barge with a crew of but six, roaming the most dangerous region of space in the Alpha Quadrant. That they had lasted that long was a miracle. And yet, it was his life, trudging on in that territorial hell, turning in new and bitter directions.

That Maquis ship wasn't after Dejin. They gave her up too quickly. The Guerdon had a full bay of power supplies, among other desirables.

Tom shook his head, flipped open the tricorder. "It's nothing," he muttered and started to move around the deflector. "Just a pilot's instinct."

A blast threw Tom out of his seat, tumbling across the deck until the dampers kicked back in and he could stop himself. Scrambling to his hands and knees, he leapt back to his seat, where he punched the last impulse power B'Elanna had been able to scrape up.

Four light years from Irtrin, and the Maquis were bold enough now to plow into them with all they had. Tom was still trying to believe they were that desperate to come eight light years away from the DMZ to knock off an insignificant tradeship, then follow them down the main trade route phasers first.

"Got it!" Tom looked at his board. Warp drive had been the first to go, there were numerous hull fractures to add to the patches B'Elanna had recently put in outside Hanolin. Main power was in jeopardy and their sensors were fried well before they'd been tagged. The deflector had been their only defense and it was toast soon.

"Coming around!" Tom announced and pulled the Guerdon at full impulse around and into the wake of the Maquis cruiser, forcing it to turn. Slicing through its plasma wake, Tom tapped in a hydrogen exhaust cycle, razing the plasma molecules and causing a chain reaction to run up toward the Maquis ship. But the ship cut its engines for a moment, interrupting the plasma chain. "Damnit!" They knew that one.

His fingers flew over his board again, desperately plotting them off the Maquis ship's line of fire yet again...

A massive crash thrust them all against their consoles and blew out a whole line of circuits along the port side of the bridge. Tom clutched his board to ride out the backlash, almost sliding off his seat again and the whole ship groaned for mercy. He knew without looking that they'd been kicked to a dead stop--kicked dead and left to steam and spew. He didn't even want to hear Savan open her mouth to serve him all he already had on his plate. Mercifully, the Vulcan remained silent.

"Yeah," Tom huffed. Pushing himself off his board, he found himself face to face with four dirty, hot and heavily armed Maquis. "We have company."

"Oof!" B'Elanna coughed as she hit the bulkhead below Nadrev's station. Glaring back, she saw Ridge hurry to his wife, who was pressed against the bulkhead on the other side of the bridge. Glancing left, she saw Tom against the wall by the viewscreen.

"If you'll suffer just a little humiliation," said the leader of the four as he moved around the forward section of the bridge, "this will be entirely painless. The Maquis work quickly as a rule, and my crew will have what we want in just a few more minutes."

Moving towards him, the other man motioned the Maquis guarding Tom to step aside. "I assume you're the captain?"

"I am," Tom replied. "And we're supposed to be enjoying the protection of the Maquis, have been for months."

"Show me your contract," the other captain smirked, then nodded at B'Elanna. "Better still, get your little Klingon over there to open up the central parts storage. We can't beam through the inner casing and she's being stubborn."

"It's not worth your time," Tom assured him. "We're not rich, Captain. Those parts are specific to this model ship. They're locked up in there because it's a convenient spot."

"I'll open you!" B'Elanna snapped and took a step forward. "Who the hell do you think you are, knocking off a little tradeship who's been working for your people?!"

The man next to the Maquis captain turned his phaser rifle toward B'Elanna at that.

With a snarl, B'Elanna jerked to move again when the rifle was powered up and raised to point at her eyes.

In four strides, Tom was across the room, knocking the weapon out of her direction. "You don't touch any of my crew without going through me first!"

"If you insist," said the Maquis, then swung the rifle head around to whack Tom across the cheek.

He took the hit, hissing at the shot of pain in his septum and eye, but immediately straightened and grabbed his engineer's arms when she moved to defend him. Moving them back against the bulkhead and pinning her there, he put his swelling face near her ear. "There's nothing we can do."

He grinned at that, straight through his pain as he pulled back just enough to meet her glare. "I didn't say that, B'Elanna."

She exhaled, still feeling him against her and the racing quiver that shot up her midsection--totally inappropriate, and at the same time, she furiously tried to figure out what he was talking about. Damn him, I can't handle this!

"You'd better say something soon," said the Maquis behind them, low and ready. The whirr of the plasma rifle ratcheted up.

Tom was still staring into B'Elanna's eyes, trying to figure out what to go for first, or if he should simply stall them again. But if Savan couldn't pick up the Irtrin patrol, they were probably not near enough to zoom in within another hour at least. One thing Tom did know was that he was not going to open--

"I'll open it," came Ridge's voice, quiet and miserable on the other side of the bridge.

"Like you said, they won't be able to use most of it," Ridge shrugged. Giving Maryl's arm a warm squeeze, he looked at the Maquis captain. "Just don't hurt anyone, okay?"

B'Elanna glared at her technician over Tom's shoulder as he hurried out, two of the Maquis close on his heels. Then she looked at Tom's resigned and rapidly swelling expression.

Within minutes, the Maquis captain began to answer his comm badge. "You know what we're here for. Get to it and let's get out of here before the Irtri get a clue." Tom's eyes narrowed as he glanced down at B'Elanna again. "They threw the Irtri off," he whispered when the comm busied again.

"I'm angrier about the cargo, frankly. They're probably stripping us clean. We'll have nothing to unload."

B'Elanna's gut shrank to understand all that his statement guaranteed. Tom obviously had digested the grim fate already.

"That should do it," the Maquis captain nodded and waved at his remaining man when he brought Ridge back in. "We'll leave you now. The Itrtri patrol should catch up with you within a day or two. I hope you don't mind if we make certain you don't track us."

Tom scowled and turned to face the man. "You son of a bitch, if you're thinking about--"

"Quite clearly," she answered, quiet as she watched her board. Glancing at her captain, then looking forward, she transmitted it to the main viewscreen. Suddenly, they all saw the sleek cruiser, Andorian by design, pull a graceful turn in the space before them.

"They're carrying our payment," Tom said as he strode to the side of his station, "everything we've been killing ourselves over and they still want to take us out." He blew a bitter laugh. "There's not a goddamned thing that hasn't gone wrong with this run, now."

B'Elanna glanced at him, but he didn't look back. He continued to stare the Maquis ship down, almost daring it at that point to take the shot, just so he could take it with some remaining pride. The Maquis complied, almost cheerful in its duty as it sank down into the correct coordinates and powered up its weapons. A few seconds later, it zeroed in on the Guerdon's remaining sensor grid.

Suddenly, two quick bursts of energy flew out of nowhere and struck the Maquis ship in its forward phaser banks, halting the shot and knocking the ship off its position. The ship that fired followed a moment afterwards.

Tom shook his head sharply, almost trying to jar the vision he couldn't believe he was seeing: A small cruiser, bronze-toned and sleekly angled, with a complement of supplemental weapons banks along its keel. "The Liberty?!"

"What the hell are they doing here?" B'Elanna demanded, paling to see that familiar shape move into the line of fire.

The two ships tangled in the near space before them, circling and lighting up their weapons banks like two school bullies in the yard, seeing if the other would flinch. Neither did. A few more turns between them, a push and a pull, and the Liberty finally settled itself between the other ship and the Guerdon, a little low to block their opponent's torpedo bays. Then, there was a deadly stillness and an unnerving proximity. The two ships might have touched bows would one just tap their docking thrusters. The crew on the Guerdon's bridge could only stand and stare, waiting for someone to do something.

"Tom," Savan reported, "our cargo is being transported back into our holds--not the correct holds, however the crate signage and mass are identical. Also: the Liberty is initiating the transports."

Tom swung around to see her still watching it happen on her console. "All of it?" he asked.

Finally, the comm opened up and the first Maquis captain appeared on the right side of the screen. "You work for Captain Chakotay?" the Maquis demanded as Chakotay's frame slowly opened as well.

Tom looked at Chakotay, who tersely nodded. "It's fine Paris," he said. "Tell him."

He frowned, not all for show. He thought fast and decided faster. "Yeah, we're delivering a few holds of supplies for him. But we also have a few cases of mareuvian tea, if you're interested in that much."

"Cut the crap, Paris. --Chakotay, since the quartum's your deal, I'm willing to offer an even split."

"You won't be leaving with the whole dock, and you won't get to your base if I have to fly away empty handed. I'll make certain of that."

Eight bars, right there, and ninety percent of our Irtrin dropoff, Tom silently groaned, meanwhile thankful Maryl was keeping her mouth shut. Ridge had to be sitting on her head. In the corner of his eye, he could see B'Elanna was visibly too furious to make noise. "You're very cooperative," the first Maquis observed.

"I have a deadline," Chakotay shot back. "And you're not giving me any slack. Prepare for transport, then get out of our way."

It was over in a stupidly short amount of time. Tom could almost feel pounds of flesh being taken with each of the four transports, even more so than before for knowing precisely what was going that time. One repair gone there, another thing they'd have to put off because of the other-all that aside from his still reliving them getting on his ship. And yet, thanks to Captain Chakotay, it had become far less heinous a raid. Disastrous, but not crippling.

If I have to sell my arms, I'm getting our shields fixed, Tom growled to himself. At the same time, he couldn't imagine where he'd scrape it up that time. He'd have to spend a month straight at the tables--and stay lucky--to make up for their loss. His own funds were seriously depleted after the deal with Dejin, though he didn't regret being able to secure those parts.

The final transport left Chakotay as stony-faced as before and the other Maquis captain smugly pleased. It was only a small comfort to know Chakotay was probably as keen to beat the hell out of the other Maquis as Tom was.

"See you on the line, Captain Chakotay," came the captain's farewell, one more poke before disappearing a moment later to turn his ship around.

Bruised, tired, beyond disgusted, Tom watched the other Maquis ship bank and fly away, a little heavier, but not nearly as much as they could have been. When they jumped into warp, he looked again at the other man.

Chakotay looked solidly back, still sweaty and darkened with the fight. "Okay?" he asked shortly.

Tom didn't comment on that. "Does that captain specialize in piracy," he queried, "or is running raids this far into Irtrin territory just the latest fashion?"

"A little bit of both," answered Chakotay, not hiding his disapproval. Before Tom could ask his next question, the Maquis jerked his thumb back towards a tall form behind him. "That's Ayala, by the way, my new second in command."

Chakotay's lips twitched downwards. "She went to recover at her brother's home on Nivoch."

I'm sure glad I wasn't there for that conversation, Tom remarked to himself. "I hope you're not too put out."

"Less than I should have been," Chakotay replied. "This side of the DMZ isn't getting any better, Paris. I recommend you think about moving your operations, for your sake as well as your crew's."

"That's it," the Maquis captain confirmed. "You're too hot to deal with now. We don't plan to call on you again."

"God damn," Tom breathed as the Liberty disappeared into the pitch black sky before them.

"Stick your head in the locker!" she retorted, punching on her panel to somehow get that program started without tearing the whole ODN out of the wall. "I am not going to come over there to find something I laid right at the door! Look for it!"

So did Tom, who leaned against the rail of the stairwell until her tirade was over and he might be able to ask her a question without losing an organ. In the last week, B'Elanna had become all but unmanageable. Unfortunately, Tom wasn't up for her many moods just then. The Maquis ship had not only taken most of their Irtrin cargo, but a lot of basic parts and wiring bundles B'Elanna needed to do the usual post-attack repairs, plus a lot of small power nodes and diodes. They'd worked quickly, but they did a damned good job making the small parts room look like a tornado had swept through it, debris and all, which infuriated B'Elanna even more.

Not that Tom blamed her for any of it. He was still pissed about that, too, and wasn't close to getting over it, if he ever would. They had shot the hell out of his ship, beamed aboard, pushed B'Elanna around and manipulated Ridge into giving in. If Chakotay hadn't been nearby, they'd have been kicked again and left bleeding and completely fleeced.

Tom came to B'Elanna's side and waited for her to stop putting holes in the panel long enough to address him.

"I need to know the first repair you want to make," Tom told her, likewise not up for faking a grin.

"Tell me what we need first," Tom said. "I'm going to requisitions in an hour and I need to give them a priority list."

"Tell me what you need," he repeated tersely. Doing what he had to was bad enough without a discussion. For that matter, he knew she'd hate it, too.

Rolling her eyes, B'Elanna complied. "I need the starboard polarity source generator and the mesh panels first to get the deflector up. The rest of the hardware to make it run well--you have that list already. We also need deuterium and the plasma flow regulator if we ever want to get out of Irtri territory inside another decade," she told him. "Not that any of that's going to get me ahead of the curve." She snorted. "Maybe it'll be easier this way, getting someone who doesn't have the baggage to drag into every operation. Every time I start, I just get angrier."

"Yeah, it'll be probably be a relief, won't it?" he returned. "It's a hell of a lot easier to drop everything and start over than deal with what you've got."

"I've been dealing with it, Tom!" she charged back, hot upon contact with his accusation. "Dealing with this piece of garbage falling apart since day one! And where are we? Back past step one and beggars on top of it!"

"If you want out," Tom returned, "then there's the door! I've opened it for you, for your sake, and I told you why, and have been understanding so you could take that opportunity and not feel like crap. But I'm not up for burning alive in your wake, so give it a rest, Torres!"

"Fine," she replied and got back on the power grid reassignment at her station. Only after Tom was gone and she had begun to tap into the panel again did she notice Ridge. The big man stood, still and quiet as a leaf, his arms full of the bundle support beams she had ordered him to fetch. Holding his stare a moment, she just shook her head and turned back to her work.

Ridge didn't do her the same favor. "What was that about, B'Elanna? You're not leaving, are you?"

B'Elanna looked up again as he neared, still reflecting the dread of that truth. She suddenly understood what parents felt when they had to deliver bad news to their child. Though he was more than ten years her elder, she never quite felt it, for more reasons than for her position there. "I got an offer to work at the Velir base," she told him, almost offhand in a weak attempt to assuage the sting. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to take it."

"Why?" Ridge asked, his gaze searching hers, hoping to find something to grasp at there. Getting nothing that way, he asked, "It's not about what happened before, when they stole our goods, is it?"

"It has nothing to do with that, Ridge. Really. I've been considering the position for a few weeks now."

Ridge sighed, accepting defeat with a shrug and downcast gaze. "Velir, eh? It's a nice place." He started out. "Boring, though."

"Is that a shuttle?"

"Maybe. Could be a great greenhouse for Savan, too."

"Where did you get it?"

"Off a junk dealer. I got to thinking when I saw it I'd never put one together before."

"You should be running Daystrom, Jerod."

"Maybe when I finish my contract."

Tom could see his old friend's face so clearly, in the other storage room, buried in parts that'd been unceremoniously beamed in along with the dilapidated shell and half-removed systems hanging from their moorings. Jerod was in heaven.

A couple months later, Tom stumbled into the storage room, angry and exhausted, his ship half blasted apart by the Liberty, his friend's corpse floating around somewhere in that cold, black space. Coming up to the neatly disassembled parts, Tom slid against the hull until he was on his knees. Bending his head down, he coughed and wiped at his flaccid mouth. He did not cry, but he did mourn. He knew he felt something right for mourning, at least, despite the great effort he put into not feeling at all.

He was in the same place, pulling apart a sensor node, when B'Elanna came into the bay and quietly offered her help. He never thought he'd like to have company as much again in his life as when he silently accepted hers that night. Their friendship was formed there.

He had finally put the last touches on that shuttle just after they left Ulinas, inscribing the name on the side with a small flourish: Hilda.

The buyer liked the name and promised to keep it, though Tom had not requested it. Tom did tell him, however, a little about Jerod.

"A great guy," he'd said, more warmly than he expected he might. "Right by your side no matter what you needed and out of the way every other time. He loved to tinker with machines--it's why he got the shuttle in the first place, just to play with."

Not a half-day later, Tom stared heavily at that beautiful rig, shining in the stark light of the dingy old storage bay. It was in better shape than Jerod would ever have expected. B'Elanna had fine-tuned every bolt that went back into it and upgraded some of its too-outdated parts. Tom had gone as far as to grind down the hull plates and repolish them, much as he had the panels of his old Camaro. The duranium was murder to shine, but it eventually complied and took its shell coating without a pinch.

The result was a slick aluminum tone and sheen on a lean, two-seater shuttle. It had warp four capability, enviable maneuvering thrusters and defensive shields to complement the navigational array. They'd even found comfortable seats to slide into the old slots and lock down.

It occurred to Tom just then that he and B'Elanna had not once discussed what they'd ever do with that shuttle. All that work and they'd not considered its use to them.

The buyer did want to make sure the shuttle was actually space-worthy, particularly considering its history. So, the payment was put into a trusted Irtri holder fund. If the ship held up and did everything the buyer wanted, the funds would be transferred to Tom. If not, then the holder guaranteed the safe return of the product, else pay the sum themselves.

Tom waited patiently for over ten minutes, leaning against the wall, resting his eyes, willing his shoulders down, trying not to think...

Suddenly, a loud whirr filled the space to his left. Looking over, he saw the cases of latinum appear where the shuttle had been.

He dragged a couple of breaths, trying, but feeling it, feeling it well up within him, in his chest and throat. His hands balled up.

Suddenly, Tom railed his fist into the wall, crying out in frustration and anger. The boom echoed around the room as he struck it a few more times. "Damnit!" he yelled and slumped, coughing out the rest as he pressed his fists against the bulkhead. Then he turned against it and pressed his head back.

"Damnit, Jerod," he whispered, his eyes on the latinum, "you never knew how much you'd do this far out..." Wiping his eye with the back of his hand, shoving his heart down with unfortunate skill, he sighed once more and moved to load the latinum cases onto the small dolly. He sure as hell didn't want to cry that much over a piece of equipment they didn't need and by all right should have sold. There was no use in sitting on potential payment when the ship was going nowhere.

He felt like a piece of him went out with that shuttle, though, and it had nothing to do with Jerod.

Kneeling to scoot the first case onto the platform, he sighed again and looked toward the forward wall that time. "Even sorrier," he whispered, but stuffed that away, too, and grabbed the second case.

Standing in the corridor across from the open bay door behind him, B'Elanna had watched the latinum appear where their shuttle had been. Her back pressed against the bulkhead, her arms tightly crossed, she'd also heard his cry and his words. Seeing him appear and get the dolly into place, seeing his bent posture and his fallen features, she did not have to wonder what it was for him to sell that shuttle. It was easy enough to imagine as her heart thudded with remorse. She wasn't even angry at all their work beaming away, only...

She remembered how she felt six months ago. Hurt, angry--angry at each other and their whole situation--and desperate for distraction, she and Tom had mourned Jerod through working on that old shuttle together. Wordlessly, they mended their hard feelings and came to know each other, with easy bantering as they learned to work in tandem and each other's skills--and weaknesses. Nervous as his presence had increasingly been making her, she also knew as they finished it how much she would miss working on it with him.

Now the shuttle was gone. It almost felt like they had lost Jerod all over again, and she and Tom were back to square one.

But it was probably better that way. It wouldn't be much longer, and they wouldn't have to think of it again.

As the darkness of the corridor enveloped her, as the patterns in the grate blurred before her eyes, she blinked.

Thirteen hours. Even B'Elanna was surprised when she passed the chronometer. Only hunger had told time for her that day...now night...so to speak.

Even so, she knew she was just grabbing coffee and a sandwich and going right back to it, so she might even break one more shift record. Their needed parts quickly delivered--without a word or preamble from a downright sullen Tom, she'd noticed--she, Ridge and Nadrev set right into the replacements, starting with the deflector array and ending with the flow regulator and a fuel input. Then she set on the other repairs, which supply deal caused the trouble they were in.

She blew a breath. Truly endless, all of it. And how any times had she said that? Even that was endless.

Passing Savan with a quick nod, B'Elanna soon turned into the lounge. Maryl and an overcooked Ridge sat slumped over his dinner. Though far more inclined to sleep and breaks, he had been at it almost as long as she had. Looking up at his boss, he offered her a small grin before resuming his meal. B'Elanna frowned and turned to the replicator. He'd been visibly mourning her all day.

His wife, newly informed and not bothering to hide it, watched B'Elanna through narrow eyes for almost a minute, then said, "Ridge tells me you're leaving us."

B'Elanna drew a cooling breath. She hadn't been anxious to have that conversation. As sad as Ridge could be, Maryl would be doubly put off, just because. "What's in my contract has nothing to do with you, or anyone else."

B'Elanna glared back at her. "Look, the job came up. I didn't look for it, but it came to me and I want it a hell of a lot more than I want to hear your whining! This has nothing to do with you, Maryl!"

"I never said it did," she returned. "I'm just a little confused that you of all people would turn so sharply for the greener pastures without letting any of us know until just now--and that by accident. Were you going to simply dematerialize at Velir?"

B'Elanna coughed a laugh. "I thought you'd at least try to be a friend and be glad for me."

Maryl sighed. "I am glad you got a good base job, B'Elanna. It's just what you've been wanting. But this is surprising, and you have to know how it's going to affect us. Engineers aren't the easiest people to--"

"You couldn't give a damn about anything but how it's going to inconvenience you!"

"And you know what? I deserve this chance. I deserve a position that's not going to blow me across the room or work me for over a half-day straight with no hope that the malfunctions won't be back in a week. I deserve to be able to fix problems! I can't wait to start doing that for a change."

By then, Ridge had set down his spoon and moved to push his exhausted frame to stand. "Come on, B'Elanna, I'd just told her. It's kinda fresh, still. Let's not go out on a bad--"

"Don't even try to talk to me," B'Elanna snarled. Grabbing her food from the replicator, she stormed out. "To hell with all of you!"

Tom barely made it out of her way as she swung around the corner and drove herself back towards the engine room. He watched her go for a moment then looked inside to see who'd been the latest recipients. Shrugging, he went to get himself a coffee.

"She doesn't know any other way to cut the cord," Tom told her. "Don't take it personally. Let her go."

Nodding grudgingly, seeming to understand, the two returned to their meals. Grabbing his coffee and a serving of peanut butter crackers, Tom found a table near the window and lowered himself into a seat. Leaning back, sipping from his mug, he stared out at the stars, wondering what else he was going to have to let get away in his life. Without a doubt, he knew, he was on a roll.

Ridge slumped and picked at his potatoes again. "I'm gonna miss the little cricket." He glanced at his wife. "You will too."

"There's no use in it," she countered, then softened a little to add, "Though you're right."

Tom closed his eyes. Her angry voice still echoed in his ears, but he could only sigh at it. A long time ago, he'd refused to put up with an engineer who couldn't keep her temper in check. He didn't feel like flying a run in a fight, putting up with constant challenges and fiercely swinging moods.

"You're giving me your word?"

"Yes. I'll let you know if I'm dissatisfied."

"Looks like you've got yourself an engineer, Tom."

"I was almost afraid you'd call me captain."

"I learn quickly."

Her eyes opened again. The pleasant voice filling her cabin continued uninterrupted. She had already been warned that this was simply how it had to be done and it would be over soon. Nothing that met her ears was in any way a surprise. She'd read it all already. Now, she barely heard it.

"I respect you too much to mess around, B'Elanna. I know how tough this has to be for you, so I'm only as involved as you want me to be."

Her tool kit sat by the door. She'd dropped it without care when she came in after another long day of installing deflector parts. To her shame, and as much as she tried to scratch the thought, she did not think of Jerod with every piece of equipment she stuck into the system, but of Tom. She saw his long, strong hands as they inserted a node or turned a laser wrench with a precision she never failed to notice. She heard his voice, quiet with respect to her working preference, but increasingly light in tone, more the voice of a friend than someone sharing a wake that wasn't.

"I already promised twice I'd tell you if I found something better, and I will, if only to get you off my back about it."

"I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I just can't help it...seeing your gift. I like to think...we're friends. As a friend, I want you to have...all you deserve, all you can get."

Her father said that her captain had made a great exception for her sake and that she shouldn't take that kind of friendship for granted. Maybe he had gained it along the way, but as much as she had missed her father in her life and been thankful in retrospect he hadn't given up on her on Ulinas, she had never considered him wise.

"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."

How slippery is loyalty when a good job's in your face, B'Elanna frowned to herself. But that wasn't even it and she knew it. Her emotions were screwing her up again--and in a most insidious way that time, in falling for the captain. The Velir offer had merely saved her time and frustration. She wouldn't have renewed her contract, anyway, had she not been able to stuff her feelings effectively. So she'd distanced herself from him and unconsciously had been doing a great job setting her bridges ablaze.

"It's a hell of a lot easier to drop everything and start over than deal with what you've got."

At the rate she was going, they would probably give her a personal escort off the ship by the time they got to Velir.

"Does this sound equitable to you, Torres?" Jilibrar queried, a warm smile in her tone, like a fresh cup of coffee in the morning.

B'Elanna felt her lips turning up at it. She couldn't imagine how it would be to be surrounded by so much positive energy on a daily basis. Six days and I'll know, she answered herself, then told Jilibrar, "It sounds just right."

"Thank you for taking the time," B'Elanna replied, letting her eyes fall over her quarters as though it were for the last time.

"Base Velir Prime, this is the Guerdon, requesting landing clearance at Dock Odna Eight-Four."

Tom peered back at Maryl, who was already hard at work connecting with their Hidirin liaison there, who would arrange for the pickup of the remaining quartum and the other portion of their cargo. Thankfully, the Maquis hadn't been interested in that section of their bays, so their Velir drop off would give them just enough to pay for their needed equipment and parts and secure a new engineer. According to the personnel manager there, recruits often asked for a small wage deposit upfront and an exit clause on most contracts. Tom and Savan had been tweaking the old template for a couple days in expectation of having to make those concessions.

He would be paying for the three-day drydock, too, though partly with his share from that last drop off. Though Velir had an impressive space station, they were drydocking at the main base that time. Tom had made the excuse that he wanted a recruit from the ground base. They usually checked out better if they had taken the time to register planetside, and so he called in a favor and got the dock for the same price as at the orbital station--a complete lie on both counts. In truth, he wanted B'Elanna to walk off the ship herself.

After another week of frost and avoidance, he'd finally decided that if she wanted to walk away that badly, she'd have to do it on her own two feet.

"You know, I don't care if it's the last one we have," she'd snapped at Nadrev soon after the Guerdon left Irtrin. "It needs to go in. Put in a requisition at Velir and they'll deliver new ones." When the young man hurried back to the locker for the requested part, her eyes found Tom. "Did you have to do this much babysitting before I came here?"

"No, we pretty much winged it," Tom answered, half mocking as he helped Ridge balance a support arm. "Then we discovered fire."

His first memory of her, lying unconscious on the deck of Mesler's barge, flashed in his mind. Only a couple days later, he almost crushed Ridge when her healed presence made itself known in the engine room for the first time. Tom coughed a laugh at it. It felt like years ago that they were there, when it'd not been eleven months.

"The primary circuit junctions are rerouted there," B'Elanna stated a couple days ago, pulling up the schematic on her console and pointing. "Whoever's going to be working those lines has to be careful because they run close to impulse control now. It's easy to get them mixed up if you don't know the layout."

"Got it," Tom said over her shoulder, taking his mental notes. He knew she'd changed a great deal down there, but in fact, she'd rerouted a lot more than even he thought. Leaning a hand on the board, he pointed with his chin to a bar in the middle of it of the routes. "What's that blue thing?"

"The injector port relay," she answered tightly. She could feel his warmth, he was so near to her. If she merely turned left ninety degrees...

"God, I shouldn't have forgotten that," he chuckled, "the first thing you tore apart when you came here." He looked down at her. Her eyes were pinned hard on the board and her lips were pressed together, but he knew precisely what he was doing. Why he was working so hard to bother them both was still a mystery to him, though. He knew she'd accepted the Velir position formally and wasn't turning back. Then again, he always was a glutton for punishment...and the occasional mindless diversion, which wasn't really a problem. He had nothing to lose, and he'd had far worse habits. "I came down here to have you sign your first contract, and you looked like you'd been swimming in coal, and ten times angrier because you thought I'd be dropping you off at Podala."

"I was just angry, period." She breathed a half laugh. "It's hard to think about how I'd been then, so much happened since then."

Pulling a quick breath as her gut quivered and her face grew hot, B'Elanna stepped back and grabbed her tricorder. "We're not done yet," she told him. "The starboard relays are configured differently--over there."

Smiling though his sigh and finally satisfied with his frustration quotient, Tom followed her over to the other access panel. "Yeah, I'll have Ridge look at those environmental controls sometime, too...."

Still waiting for the landing codes above the green-gray Velirian orb, Tom lightly drummed his fingers over his recently reconfigured board and wondered how his life might skid to a stop after she was gone. Even without her trying at it, since she'd come aboard, things started happening, good and bad...though mostly good, all said.

She had trouble thinking about how she'd been. Tom had to fight to think of how he was a year ago, aside from stuck in a numb haze of guilt and avoidance. He couldn't understand how he'd flown the ship, made friends with Ridge and Jerod, made deals and ran tables. He could remember doing those things, but considering his state of mind, poor health and steady inebriation, was amazing to him now that he'd gotten by at all.

"So, it's all done," Tom quietly assured her the day before as he leaned back in his chair. Nudging aside his soda, he pushed the PADD over to her with a finger. "Savan checked it through with our Bolian counsel and it's approved." He gazed unabashedly at her when her attention left the table and returned to him. "You only have to read and thumbprint approve."

"Just like that," Tom nodded. "I'd made sure to have your contract written so this, if it ever happened, wouldn't be too big a bother."

Jerking her eyes down to the PADD, B'Elanna let her eyes fall over the preamble, the legal jargon--obviously Savan's work--and finally, the gist: Full release from all responsibilities as previously contracted upon the Guerdon, effective Stardate 47676.

She let her heart predictably thump at the reality, then pulled her hand forward to press her thumb to the authentication square. It beeped, recorded, then transmitted. She looked at Tom again. "Thanks," she said, softer than she'd wanted to, but sincerely, too, "for everything."

He tried for a smile, wondering if he succeeded even as he told her, "I hope you're able to find what you've wanted, B'Elanna."

"I do, too." She pushed herself to her feet, gladly breaking contact with his intense gaze. Even were she willing to, it'd be useless to fall prey to it now. "But that's not going to happen for another day. Mind if I get back to work?"

His small grin remained, though the light fell away from his eyes. "Be my guest...."

The next afternoon, Tom angled the Guerdon in per the granted coordinates, raised shields and slowly dropped the Guerdon into the Velirian atmosphere. The process went rather automatically, very smoothly, all per the program transmitted to him. All Tom wanted to do was bank that clumsy old rig and slice right back through and out into open space, and to hell with the shipment and the pay and the contract. To hell with it all. He was sick of contracts.

Minutes later, the Guerdon landed softly on its assigned dock. The landing gear tucked smoothly against the belly of the ship, then sank within, letting the ship rest very close to the ground. The deck four starboard gangway, when extended, was almost four meters wide and a mere five-degree pitch, making it very easy to load...and unload.

Tom drummed his fingers on his panel again. He glanced twice at the "launch" option before a beep behind him broke the temptation.

A soft-featured lady in her mid-fifties appeared on the screen a moment later, her ruddy hair pinned high upon her crown and her smile immediately apologetic. "Captain Paris."

"I do apologize. I know how awkward this must be." Jilibrar raised her palms. "I was under the impression that Torres was searching for a new position. I was unaware of your contract schedule."

Tom waved a hand at her. "Don't worry about it, Jilibrar. You're too good a person to wrangle other people's personnel. I know that. Besides, it's what she wants, it's her time to go, deal done. What can I do for you?"

Jilibrar tapped quickly on her board. "Because I know I have inconvenienced you and your crew and because you have very limited time at our base, I have compiled a small list of candidates, who might be able to replace Torres. They are cleared and checked and able to start very quickly, according to their files."

"That might be useful," Tom nodded, secretly amused to know that B'Elanna would be working with such tender-footed manners from then on. Velirians prided themselves their excellent composure and gestures the way Vulcans prided themselves on logic. On that thought, Tom thought perhaps it wouldn't be half bad to have a Velirian engineer. That way, he wouldn't have to try to like them.

"Thanks," Tom said. "Very thoughtful of you. That wouldn't have happened anywhere else on the route."

"It's the least I could do," Jilibrar replied magnanimously, then bowed. "I won't disturb you any longer, Captain. I'm certain you have a great many other matters to attend to."

"Thanks again," Tom returned, then popped off the transmission. Glancing down at his board, popping his lips to see the neat little file, he tapped a couple commands and threw it over to Maryl's station. "Have at it," he told her, then got up to meet the engineer he still did have for a couple more minutes.

"And don't wait for the coils to get grimy before scrubbing them," B'Elanna said, still tapping notes into the main panel, "even if you have to hire a temp to do it for you. This ship's crabby enough with a good maintenance schedule."

At last she stepped away from her panel and faced her former assistant. Poised on a goodbye, she instead added, "Oh, and I left the extra tool flat in aft storage four. Everything you need when you get another port PTC bracket is on the lower shelf, and--"

"You'll never report at this rate!" Ridge laughed and grabbed the diminutive woman into his big arms, hugging her until she coughed. Then he kissed the top of her head. "Just makes it harder to let you go. Don't make me cry, because you know you can make me, right?" Pulling her away to an arm's distance, he said, "I will write you, let you know how it's all going. --Really, I'm not just saying that."

"You won't write back--but that's okay." He grinned fondly, squeezing her arms once more. "You won't have much to say. Velir's boring. You just take care of your thing and I'll keep up, as usual."

With that, Ridge turned and headed off towards the port access corridor, speeding to a lumbering stride, trying to make it seem like he'd just ended a conversation, no goodbye, no more complaints or questions, just back to business, back to the needed.

B'Elanna watched him go, glad he'd ended it like that. But then, Ridge always did seem to know how to handle people, how to give them what they wanted and get a little of his own needs filled, too. She didn't, and she had made the mess she was extricating herself from that day. She reminded herself yet again how she had allowed herself to become too personally involved, let them become like a family, let her feelings for the ship's captain become more than they should have been and had allowed her distraction to affect her work. She had not been treating her place there like part of a business anymore. That would only have been a detriment to them all in the end.

Having politely kept his distance during Ridge's non-goodbye, Tom eased to her side as she backed off, then matched her pace across the deck toward the ladders. "Are your things collected?" he asked her.

She looked up at him. His expression was casual, though his eyes were cast away. "Yes," she told him, "they'll beam them to my new quarters when they're assigned. That won't be for another few hours, though."

"I'm not deciding on anyone for a couple days," he said as he reached out for the ladder rung. "It's no problem."

Ridge had beamed down her tool kit to the deck four hatch entrance so she wouldn't have to haul it down the ladders. The oblong case with the heavy canvas strap, steel handles and corner guards was almost as well-known as she'd become on that ship, her pride built of so many payments for hard, dirty jobs in a highly fixed system, but also of dreams and needs. Always with her, standing by, asking nothing and supplying what it could, it seemed to be a real part of her when she could claim little else.

They approached it together; their eyes remained upon it, even when they stopped.

On instinct, Tom bent to pick it up for her, but she brushed his hand away. "I have it," she said curtly as she cut ahead of him, then added in afterthought as her fingers slipped around the strap, "but thanks."

Blinking slowly, Tom reached out and pressed the knob for the gangway. It ground slowly open, revealing her new home. The morning sun was cool and the air was dry, and a faint buzz from the other denizens of the dockyard trickled into the bay. It looked like the start of a beautiful day. Tom gestured toward it. "Here you are."

Lifting her tool kit, pulling the strap over her shoulder, she looked up at her now former captain, into his gentle, meaningful gaze, so familiar, so warm and real to her, it was little surprise to her now that she'd fallen for him. In a flash, the guilt returned, thoughts and demands to herself of why she was doing this to them when they'd been so good to her, that it wasn't right and she should have dealt with it, or just let it be and see what might happen. She wished...

But then she reminded herself once again that it was too late for that. It was over.

"Maybe we'll get together when you're back up from Minjau," she offered as he walked with her down the gangway.

Stopping at the middle, Tom looked deeply into her dark, round eyes for the last time, memorizing her there. "Goodbye, B'Elanna."

Staring back for several seconds, hardly aware that she was doing so, she blinked, then finally nodded and turned to go the rest of the way on her own.

"It's what we're here for," Tom agreed, walking over to her. "You set up an interview already?"

"Yes. I have to hand it to Jilibrar, she did her homework, made my job pretty simple for a change. There are three on base alone."

She should have hired one of them, instead,, Tom groused to himself before he could stuff the thought back. The station manager's appearance had been more difficult on him than he wanted to admit. Taking the PADD, he almost dropped it at his side, but quickly corrected his move and stuffed it into his back pocket. He'd left his coat on the bridge, anticipating a long day of waiting for pickups and parts, diagnostics and contracts, and otherwise being left to his own distractions. Though it felt too soon to replace B'Elanna, he was glad for Maryl's unflinching practicality.

"You'll need to meet Aglori in the base Tifhro Lounge in forty minutes. --They say it's only a ten minute walk after the transport. I put a map on the menu so you wouldn't get lost."

Tom cast a tired look her way as he went back to replicate a coffee. Maryl never seemed to remember that he knew his way to about every lounge on every base on the border and beyond. "I have to go all the way to Tifhro?"

"I doubt he's dragging any of our past deals along," she replied. "He checks out and has some half-decent credentials. He's worth the interview."

"Whatever he is," Tom dismissed, "I'm don't like having to go across the city for a maybe. He should interview on our turf."

"I'm not writing a contract for someone who can't get off his ass and over to a place he expects to work!"

"Then I guess we're not going anywhere," Maryl returned, "because you know damn well we can't break orbit without an engineer."

"We're not getting lucky like that again." Maryl stared hard into his eyes to make that point stick. "Tom, we're not getting that lucky again."

The captain froze for a long moment as he held his contract liaison's eyes. Of course, she was right, and maybe it had been a huge, stupid mistake to have fallen in love with B'Elanna Torres after all, for all it'd done for him and would continue to. He knew better than to get distracted from the real business at hand. He'd paid the price for that kind of mistake, suffered and finally buried those bones. Just months after that funeral, he'd let himself crash land again...

No, it was for not getting the girl in the end that his brain was going to mush. What-ifs were starting to crawl in and fester uselessly, making him want to avoid other issues that needed attention. Still, Maryl was right, and he really needed to reset and move on.

Finally, he blinked and looked away. "Who the hell says we were ever lucky at all?" he muttered.

Replicating a coffee, he ran his hand over the LEDs, then dropped it to grab the mug. Drinking it down in a few swallows, he set the mug aside and grudgingly left.

"All the way to Tifhro," Tom muttered to himself as he released the rungs and landed on his feet. Turning aft and coming around the bulkhead, he could see once again how the sunny Velirian day poured into the deck from the hatch, lighting up crevices of the bay long left in shadows. Hidden bolts and smears of dust resided there. Tom walked by it all.

"Computer, release security grid," he ordered. It immediately complied, no comment, no question. B'Elanna had done a great job on that annoying Bolian mainframe.

Is she always going to be everywhere? he wondered, running his hand along yet another panel she'd reconfigured or replaced. Knowing how his mind worked, Tom was confident that he'd never forget a thing she'd touched. After a while, the sting of her absence would go away, and not for his trying. He just knew, as B'Elanna did, that work was a great distracter and he had a lot of it. Or if he didn't, he was sure he would find something to plunge into, like in the old days, lifting impossibly heavy equipment with Ridge because they still couldn't keep a working anti-grav on board the Guerdon to save their lives.

He simply didn't want to get over it--over her. It'd been a long time since he'd been genuinely attracted to a woman and far longer still since he'd known he was in love, if he ever really had been. Letting B'Elanna walk out that hatch not an hour ago was among the hardest and certainly one of the stupidest things he'd done to date.

Caffras had already delivered the first of two field coil packs, Tom noticed as he came onto the gangway and locked the flat down with the thumbprint ID pad. Pursing his lips, he tried to recall if he'd signed for it last time. So much had been taken out of his hands in the last ten months. Deciding to give it a shot, Tom walked down and pressed his thumb to the circular spot in the middle of the lock. The protective caging disengaged and disappeared. Nodding to himself, Tom pushed the crates up the gangway and into the main bay. Ridge would find them soon enough. He'd be unloading the duranium sheeting and framing bars from the other Hidirin contractor within the half-hour.

He came out onto the gangway again and stopped when his eyes caught the chronometer in the lift frame. Leaning up against the strut, he knew he'd be damned if he would be early for that interview.

So instead, he glanced around and almost immediately he could see her standing there; he still heard her voice, soft but sure, in his mind, offering to try something else when the Guerdon came back to Velir. Did she really mean that, or was she just trying to cushion the farewell? She usually meant what she said...but not always of late. Blinking the sound away, he then could feel her small body pressed up against his that time they got wedged together in the access room. She went increasingly rigid as she realized their proximity, but unconsciously held steady. He wished he'd touched her, just once the way he wanted to. He could see her face as it was when he woke up on the Liberty, so sad and remote...until she looked at him...

It hurt like hell to think about her. He needed to get going. He shouldn't stand there making himself crazy anymore. For that matter, Maryl would beat him to a pulp if he missed that interview.

...Indeed, she was everywhere on and around his ship, even out among the Velirian foot traffic, staring at him as she did when he said goodbye, poised on everything she wanted to say and saying everything but that. Her arms were crossed upon her neat white wrap shirt, her mouth slightly parted, her short boots set solidly on the edge of the tarmac. But then, straightening, grabbing the strap of her tool case, she moved away from the opposite dock section and onto the walkway, her gaze pinned upon him as she neared.

Tom did not register that it was her until she was nearly at the landing of the gangway. His face melted from distraction to wonder and finally to relief as B'Elanna slowed, then stopped.

Setting down her toolkit, B'Elanna took a step onto the ramp, her stare unbroken. Her lips flicked slightly up.

Pulling a long breath to will down his hammering heartbeat, Tom stepped down the gangway and slowly passed her by. Reaching down to retrieve the strap of her toolkit, he saw her turn, felt the air move with her, felt her find him once again...hold on to him in what ways she could. For a moment, his eyes closed. Suddenly, he knew that he wasn't about to be a fool about her again and to hell with what should be.

Releasing the tool case, Tom rose, reached out, sank his hand into B'Elanna's hair, then smoothly pulled her to him.

Their lips immediately met and she gasped with relief at the contact. He then steered his other hand around her waist to pull her against him. She pressed willingly to his long, lean body, responding to their kiss in kind as she slid her hands over his shoulders.

Breathlessly, his kisses explored her full mouth, then beside it, her cheek, and finally her soft neck. There, he finally broke away to gaze into her eyes once again. Glistening with her little smile as she likewise caught her breath, she seemed a little nervous, but also accepting. She'd chosen to be there, Tom realized. She really was staying.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, taking in the scent of him, mixed subtly with his cologne, half of her content at last to have what she had so wanted, the other half still trying to believe she'd gone back for it. In but a second, she had recovered from the fact that he'd initiated that kiss; that he obviously had wanted her too, possibly for some time, was settling in as well. He had wanted her, too...

He wanted her, but he let her go, let her fulfill what they both thought she'd wanted and felt she deserved.

B'Elanna's eyes closed. The clanging and rushes of the dock's engines and voices quickly died away as the sound of his thrumming heart filled her ear. Her whole body relaxed against his.

His fingers threaded into her hair once more, then brushed along her neck. With a gentle nudge of his finger, Tom turned her chin back up. Her pulse jumped at the gaze that met her--that same intentness, a thousand unvoiced thoughts and feelings, focused entirely on her before his eyes closed and she let herself fall into him again. This time, he kissed her fully, walking them up the ramp a couple steps so he could pin her against the lift arm for purchase. B'Elanna moaned her approval when her back met the strut and held tightly onto him as he deftly tasted her parted lips....

Breaking off again, they looked back to see Maryl scrambling from her knees to her hands and feet to propel herself back up and into the deck three loading bay. She barely disappeared before screeching her husband's name. Tom and B'Elanna laughed.

Stepping back a couple paces, Tom reached down, recovered the tool case's strap and pulled it over his shoulder. Raising his brow to ask, seeing B'Elanna nod, he slipped his arm around her waist and walked them up into the belly of the ship. There, a loud thud echoed from within the deck, and he laughed again to hear what he expected would follow.

"Where's that cricket?!" boomed Ridge, the echoes of his heavy steps preceding him.

Swinging B'Elanna around for one last quick kiss as he punched the ramp control, Tom let her step away and brace herself for a hearty welcome home.

Having sprung for a big lunch and toasted their next round on the circuit together, the others on the crew now hardly acknowledged any kind of leaving had happened in the first place. They came back aboard, got back to work and with a stern reminder below a curious stare from Maryl, Tom left for the station office to sign off on a few bays worth of cargo, arrange their revised departure time and expected return docking and pay for their chemical dump. If he scheduled them to dock again next week and overpaid by ten bars, however, he might not have noticed. He couldn't get back aboard his ship fast enough...much as he hardly knew what to do once there.

He was almost sorry not to see Jilibrar on his way in or out, but he wasn't sorry at all to come into the engine room and see Ridge and Nadrev scampering at a word from the lead engineer. Planted at her main console, her fingers traced over the scrolling lines of diagnostics as her gaze danced over the readouts and results. Then, her lips parted. Reaching over, she quickly tapped in a few adjustments, a couple of corrections, and then resumed the process.

The sight was so familiar to him now, he'd begun to ignore it. Not anymore, though, he knew as he approached her. Just then, every minutiae of his engineer filed neatly in and planted itself. Damn, I've got it bad, he chuckled to himself.

Looking over to him, her working façade melted slightly as she blinked to update herself again on their changed status. They hadn't been able to talk about that all day, though, had been charged with the usual station business and some. Naturally, nervousness had crept into her during that time, and now his expectant but otherwise unreadable gaze raised the bar. He wanted to talk. She would have to. Best they get it all on the table right away.

"Can I walk you home?" he quietly asked, leaning against the console crossbeam. Much as he wanted to be with her, he knew how she was when she was running numbers. To his pleasant surprise, however, she nodded and closed out her station.

Her lips twisted up as she motioned to the console. "Funny, I'm gone only a few hours and they'd already mangled the relays. I think I have them straightened out."

Tom chuckled. "I don't doubt that," he said and gestured toward the port corridor.

B'Elanna's brow flicked up. He wanted to take the very long way back. She looked back over her shoulder. "Ridge, I'm off!"

"See you tomorrow, B'Elanna!" he called back from somewhere within the engine core.

Her arms crossed upon her ribs as she moved in his direction, a slow but easy gait that going aft would take them to the upper deflector control section. Having finished those repairs before she left, she knew as well as he probably did that it would be empty.

"We got the plasma stores," he started, breaking the silence, "and the dilithium you ordered. They're down in the bay."

"Tomorrow, around noon our time. No sense in paying for drydock when we're not using it."

Meeting his eyes when he cast them down her way, she nodded slowly, then looked ahead, reassured. Feeling her heart respond to that realization, she felt a smile touch her lips. "Okay."

They came into deflector control a moment later. The ship on minimal power just then, the section was eerily dim, glowing slightly red in the secondary lighting. Not that they hadn't seen that place so dark and hushed before. Too many times, they had, in fact. Tom eased their direction forward again, bringing them across the deck and into the oft-mended starboard corridor. Plates of replacement bulkhead still dotted the corridor there. Sheets of mesh grate opened up the floor in places, revealing the tubes and wires beneath. The techs all liked that new feature, in fact. It was easier to get to the lines, so B'Elanna never ordered new plating for there.

Tom glanced over again. "Is it, B'Elanna?" he asked her. Her arms still crossed, he had settled on holding his hands behind his back. "Is it okay?"

"It's going to have to be," she replied. "As soon as I reneged my acceptance, Jilibrar deleted the contract and contacted the next candidate."

"I know," she sighed, chiding herself for the tired tactic. "I'm sorry, this is still...I mean, I'm not unsure of how I feel. It's just..."

"It's new for me, too," he admitted, finishing with a little laugh at his own fumbling. "It's been a long time. I'm not used to this feeling anymore."

"I'm not used to it at all," B'Elanna said, not meaning to, but with a quick breath, committed to it. "I usually got over crushes after a while. It didn't go away with you. It only got..." Again, she stopped.

Tom ran his tongue over his top lip, considering his next question carefully. "So you took Jilibrar's offer when it came?"

"I thought so," he nodded. "Or at least I had a feeling. --I believed you when you said you hadn't planned it. But I thought you were uncomfortable around me for a reason."

B'Elanna only nodded again, not liking where the conversation was going. Still, she had to ask, "You knew? But you didn't say anything."

"I have a talent for self-flagellation," he confessed, a bit sheepish as he turned them onto the outer corridor. He didn't want to go back to the main engine room. He didn't want their conversation to be interrupted--or overheard--just then. "And I figured you'd be safer there, with the border region about to ignite. And, yeah, I was pissed off at my bad timing, and I was upset that your luck wasn't much better and that you were so willing to get away from me. I wished my ship was the best Starfleet had to offer so I wouldn't have to feel like a shit for asking you to stay here." He stopped at that, as quickly as it'd all come out. "It's been a long month."

"It has," she agreed, reassured even more to know he'd been as twisted up as she had been, and warmed to know how much he apparently had been thinking about her on top of the rest. We are really talking about this, she suddenly remarked to herself. It barely felt real, and yet it was very real--and honest.

As they continued forward, past the last storage room and into the forward sections of the deck, she wondered how she'd managed to earn so much trust from a man who spent years hardly trusting himself, much less anything else. It said a lot about his nature, too, that'd been lurking in there, under the drink and the pain, waiting to be able to come out again. Or at least she guessed it. It could not have formed in mere months from nothing. And then there was that young guy on the lawn, running free, without shame or hesitation...

He had once trusted and was crushed. When he began to regain his sense of it, he trusted her, with his thoughts, his memories...his feelings....

"Something you said really stuck with me," she said as they turned at the bow corner.

B'Elanna slowed her pace, forcing her stare up from the carpet. "That it'd be a relief, leaving the Guerdon, starting over without the issues that'd built up."

"No, you were right." She looked up at him. "It would have been easier to go to Velir, start over again. I've been leaving a lot of places since I got away from Kessik--just like my father did. I probably would have left Cabol eventually, if its base hadn't shut down. I'd already made enemies there and was considering a transfer." Shaking her head at the memory, she went on, "Even after I saw him again, I didn't realize how I'd been doing exactly what Dad did. I finally understood what was in his head. And instead of digging in and dealing with my feelings, I was about to do it again." She breathed an ironic laugh. "I am some incredible coward."

She shrugged. "Either way, I realized when I got to Jilibrar's office what I was doing and what I was leaving behind...and I knew that even if you're right and Velir's a better place for me professionally, I'll regret leaving what I've built here, what I'd finally managed to achieve." Stopping them as they rounded the forward cross-corridor, she turned to face him fully.

Tom reached out and touched her hand, his eyes totally on hers now as he waited for her to finish.

Slowly, her fingers slid over his forearm, warming there. His hand turned to hold her arm, his thumb idly stroking the soft skin inside her elbows. He hardly blinked. "I'd regret leaving someone I care about, too." To her relief, his lips turned up into an understanding smile. "I never thought I'd say this but...life's more than work, Tom."

Tom brought his other hand up, reaching up to brush her cheek with his fingertips. His heart began to thrum again, and he remembered to breathe a few seconds later. What just touching her could do to him...

"Are you sure you don't mind this--us? You're the captain, and I work for you. Part of what bothered me is knowing how easily it could get complicated."

"Screw complication, B'Elanna," he returned, his relief giving a little way to a flush of enthusiasm. "I'm not going to stand here and pretend I'm not crazy about you. I'm ready to start taking some chances again--chances I can take and want to." His hands slid around her waist to nudge her nearer, and his blood rushed in all directions when she molded herself against him again. He hadn't felt anything so good in years. "Besides," he lightly noted, "if we screw it all up, you can always reapply. God knows you'd be better off."

A smile rose in her, finding her eyes. Only Tom Paris could turn a moment like that around on its toes--and she could finally admit that she loved that. "It's a much better opportunity to use my skills," she rejoined.

Grinning at their play, he felt himself sink into her steady gaze, the way her smile turned wry at the corner of her full, red lips, the way her strong but tentative fingers found his muscles through his shirt, tracing them there. He gently kneaded her lower back and could swear he felt her temperature go up a few degrees as she responded to that easy pressure. His blood decidedly changed course in response. This morning I thought I'd never see her again, never talk to her again, or ever touch and feel her up against me like this. What the hell was I thinking?

Drawing a slow breath, his fingers tightened, then spread over her back. "So what are you waiting for?"

Her hands slid around him. Slowly, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, plying open her lips enough to taste. Pressed against the bulkhead, feeling his hips rock slightly forward, she gasped in their kiss and instinctively returned the tacit invitation. The kiss opened and his touches moved. One hand ran firmly down her side, pressing every curve and dip; the other hand snaked up into her nape hair, holding her head as he gratefully moved his mouth against hers, then tipping it back so he could taste her soft neck again. He shuddered to feel her fingers begin to explore this frame, finally finding the loose collar of his shirt, and then his shoulder underneath, holding on.

Humming with contentment, Tom glanced down the corridor. He'd hardly paid attention to where they were when they stopped, just knew they were in the crew section. But with that glance, he knew they were around the corner from his quarters, not five meters away. Pulling his attentions back up her neck and to her welcoming lips, he nudged his nose against hers, backed off just enough to meet her liquid stare.

"Come here," he breathed, letting his hand fall to hers then taking a step back.

He wrapped his fingers around hers and walked with her to the door of his quarters. Punching the lock with a finger, he stepped close to her again before the doors could decide to open. That time though, she moved first, pressing him back and leaning up to recapture his mouth. Decidedly pleased with that move, Tom turned them into the main room and toward the seating area. Before he could think about waiting maybe another minute or so, he let his fingers fall into the folds of her neat white wrap shirt. The fabric was more delicate than it looked, and her skin was deliciously warm and soft, with more awaiting.

B'Elanna had only realized that her shirt had floated off her arms and onto the floor when Tom's long fingers traced skillfully over her belly and around her bared waist. Seconds later, he had reached up and opened the seam of her brassiere. But instead of pulling it away, he slowed. His kiss grew languid, then moved off to the corner of her lips as his free hand quickly unhooked the clasps of his shirt for her. Her hands dove in and pushed it away, then pulled off his undershirt when he backed up just enough.

She slipped her hands over his chest, around his slim frame and down the lean muscles of his back. Descending to his waist, she pulled him against her, relishing in his arousal, his soft groan as he savored her shoulder. His thumbs crept up and slipped under the remaining fabric to caress her breasts. His fingers followed, his nails softly teasing her flesh, then slipping back down her sides. She rubbed her cheek against his, almost dizzy with his scent and her quickened heart. Then she felt his mouth urging hers to him again. She gladly gave it.

All's fair now, she grinned to herself when he took another trip around her stimulated skin, stroking slowly, softly, making her press impossibly close to him and still want more. She had gone so long thinking about it, thinking it could never happen, that she wanted everything now. Dropping a hand to the waist of his trousers, she tucked her fingers just within and slipped it around to the front seam clasp. Turning it, she breathed with satisfaction when the waist loosened and she could run her hand freely over his hip.

Tom coughed a surprised laugh, equally glad that she had initiated another turnabout. Enjoying the feeling of her fingers prying his trousers down from his hips, he continued to caress her, waiting...much as he didn't want to wait a moment longer. Seconds later, her short nails had reached his thighs, stroking lightly around to the insides and up until she could grasp him firmly. Tom groaned aloud and plundered her mouth with his own, rocking into her grip until he was forced to break away, panting for air. When his trousers finally fell to his ankles, he dropped to his knees, more than ready to up her repayment.

B'Elanna was surprised at first to see him suddenly disappear, and was more so to feel within seconds her trousers and underwear vacate her legs. Then he pressed to her, parting her with his tongue and driving a breath-muffled scream from her throat. Her hands flew to his head for nowhere else to go, perhaps even balance as his arms wrapped firmly around her thighs and turned her back to the sofa chaise. His hand flew up to the small of her back as she reeled and arched; then he guided her down.

Gladly, she let her knees buckle as he leaned her down onto the cushions, the curve of her back hanging precariously off the edge. Circling, tasting, nibbling her flesh until she trembled beneath his soft touches, he took his time, now that she was where he needed her. With a few sweeps of a hand, her clothes were yanked from her feet and tossed aside. Between her breaths, she heard his remaining clothing follow. His concentration immediately returned to her, and a pining moan escaped her as her hips rocked forward to direct him further. His fingers stroked her inner thighs until she could spread her legs no more; he hummed his approval against her.

Her belly twitched and her muscles tightened as he expertly caressed her to the point where she was almost whimpering for release. At last, she buckled as the flush of pleasure washed through and from her. She shuddered for what seemed like minutes as he eked it on, running his nails softly over her skin until he finally kissed her swollen flesh and let her relax.

Wiping his lips with the side of his index finger, Tom rose away from her. Watching her, sprawled out on the chaise end of his sofa, her legs flaccid, the muscles in her torso still contracting slightly from her orgasm, her stare half closed as she regained her breath, he needed to pull a few full breaths of his own, bring himself down a notch. Without question, he knew he had to be the luckiest man in the quadrant that night, and he'd be better off still when he could make contact with her again. Running his hands around her thighs and to her hips, he pulled her off the sofa until her back arched. One hand rose further still, up her ribs, teasing a breast, around and up to her face, where he tenderly cupped her cheek.

Glancing down, she met his gaze and felt her heart flutter once again. What that one look can do! she remarked to herself. Certainly, no one had ever been able to elicit so much in her from a single look.

He pulled her down another couple of centimeters and pressed himself into her. Gritting his teeth, checking his breath, he rocked forward, then forward again. His fingers tightened on her back to steady them as he entered her completely. There, he groaned with relief and even thankfulness as her sigh echoed back to him. Pulling out, he repeated the slow thrust, and then again, loosening some of the friction, preparing for the rest. Leaning over, his hand perching on the cushion beneath her shoulder, his breath matched hers, and he found his lips turning up as hers did, too. Her legs pulled up slightly and wrapped around him. Damn luckiest man in this galaxy, he grinned to himself.

With a squeeze of her legs, he started again, a long rhythm that grew as he got a feel for her. Straightening, he pressed his hand to her abdomen, kneading it gently. Her sounds grew louder, her grip around him flexing and twitching until she began to meet his pace. Then her hand reached out to his chest, falling as he continued to drive into her, down the line of hair on his torso. She traced it to his pelvis, and then dragged her nails around to his hip to hold on when he adjusted her angle again.

Tom cried out at that, suddenly feeling it all fall apart before he could think to slow or stop it. With another involuntary thrust, he came hard within her, shuddering with the forceful release even while filling with dread and embarrassment.

It took B'Elanna several seconds to realize what had happened, why he stopped and nearly collapsed on top of her. She felt her chest sink.

"I'm sorry, B'Elanna," he gasped, hardly able to look at her. "It's been so long...and a long time since..."

"It's okay," she whispered with obvious disappointment, even as she meant what she said.

"No, it's... Ah, God, just..." He swallowed, bent his head down beside hers. Not that anything this month's gone right...the first time. At that, he blinked, licked his upper lip. The first time. Indeed, it'd been a long time--long enough that maybe.... And knowing whom he was on top of, and remembering all of what they'd been through, he wasn't about to give up that quickly. So, puffing a few short breaths against her shoulder, he rose to catch her attention and touch her cheek again. "Just stay still."

"Don't move," he panted, forcing himself to remain where he was, too. "Give me a minute and...let me look at you, B'Elanna...touch you."

Catching his breath at last, then finding her slightly confused stare in his, he let his fingers fall upon her beautiful mouth, tracing it from the corner and around and softly under her jaw. Sighing at the touch, finally consigning herself to his request, she leaned her head back. He met her move to run his tongue along the long groove; he then closed his teeth upon the muscle below her ear. Meanwhile, his hand, gripping her hip, turned in just enough that his thumb could stroke her. A slow cry escaped her throat as her muscles involuntarily twitched. He winced, but the move was worth it.

"Take another breath," he whispered to her ear, then returned his kisses to just beneath her jaw. "We're not done yet... Touch me, B'Elanna. Let me feel your hands...."

With painful slowness, he kissed her mouth again and felt her fingers and nails trace his back, down his sides and around his waist, softly marking every curve and making him purr, low in his throat and rumbling his chest slightly. She could reach no further and so her hands settled on the curve of his back, but he needed no more effort. Her scent and small shudders, her softly panting breath and little moans, in addition to the rest, were well enough to stir him again. Indeed, he was going to have all he could of her, now that she was there with him. He wasn't giving anything away this time.

Rising from her damp body, his hand firmed upon her belly, pressing her womb, then slipping down again, making her gasp, her eyes open wide, then grow heavy with sensation. At that angle, she could barely touch him, so she let her arms fall to her sides, one tucked up beside her ear. Letting her eyes roam up his slim, fair frame, she caught his eyes once more and felt her breath catch. His liquid gaze reflected pure want, so completely hers. She could remain there, like that, forever...until he moved again.

His eyes closed when he finally committed to it, hard enough that he could stoke it without completely falling apart or losing his legs. Her muscles firmly squeezed him, but there was very little friction there thanks to them both, and so he knew he'd need to play it close...which wouldn't be a problem that night. At last feeling he was all the way back in the game, he thrust hard into her.

Second time's the charm, all right, he confirmed and quickly picked up his pace. Stroking long a few times, he dug in, pushing hard and fast, deep within her. Looking down, he saw B'Elanna fall completely back against the cushions, her lips parted, one hand clutching him, the other practically tearing into the arm of the sofa, shuddering and undulating, lost in her pleasure. Reaching down, he threaded his forearm under her knee and raised it to his free shoulder. Pulling her down just enough, feeling her other leg hitch around him, he resumed their rhythm and speed.

She met his thrusts in time, but could hardly keep up with the onslaught of sensation his motions were raising in her, a radiating quiver, ebbing, then growing, ebbing a little less, growing some more. He does know how to get it right when he wants to, she recalled, and then completely forgot again, forgot thought and time and what she'd been doing before anything that night... His heat drove through her over and over, slowing briefly, then coursing hard and fast for as long as he could handle it. Soon, her ragged gasps and his soft grunts were all she could hear, and all she could feel was him and that growing tremor inside of her, maddeningly near to breaking free...

Then he slowed again, pushing his length into her with insane patience; she cried out with frustration and dug her nails into the meat of his shoulder. Good as it felt, she had never been so close before, and now that she was, she wanted so badly to go there...

His lips turned up once more, and he caressed her body with his free hand, watched her eyes squeeze shut, felt her tighten around him as he got that small rest. Drawing a deep breath, he scooted her down a little more again, grabbed her hand and with it got some purchase against the corner of the sofa. "Okay," he finally said and rocked his hips forward and up, burying himself in her, then again, and again, strengthening as he got the movement right, then speeding, rubbing against her, gripping her hand firmly, seeing her give it up again, let herself go completely, bent almost in anguish against the cushions. Tom almost lost it again to watch her dissolve in the sensation. If anyone had told him that morning...

And he wondered why he gave a damn about any other morning, when his heart was beating through his chest and his legs were on fire and the rest of him was about to detonate.

She barely heard his moans by then, her strangled peals came without restraint. And then, when she felt like the growing quaver would surely drive her mad, when it couldn't ebb now that he was thrusting as vigorously as he could without pause, she finally felt the tremor ripple and burst. Her thighs clamped hard around him and she bucked up; she did not hold back her scream and he pushed it further, harder, driving her over and over as every muscle in her body tightened and shuddered and the release poured through her again.

He let himself slow a little, enjoying the feeling of her orgasm quaking around him while relieving some of the ache from his hips. It was great to be able to manage another go, but it was called the long haul for a reason, and he realized in a irksome flash that he wasn't twenty anymore. Nevertheless, getting his breath, he resumed his pace, strong and steady, quickening gradually, concentrating on the hot slickness inside her and those delicious sounds she continued to breathe. Ready to tease her again with his touches now that she'd come down, he decided he couldn't get enough of watching her throw her head back like that as she gasped and rocked against him. At that point, though, it was killing him.

His one hand holding her hip, his other caressing her from her belly to where they were joined, B'Elanna's legs fell and her back arched, thrusting her breasts up and her head back again as she heard herself moaning his name. Then, she felt his hips slap against her, felt his hands tighten. Finally crying out, his head dropped back as he came, filling her once again with his warmth. She shuddered and held on, savoring the throbbing sensation between them and the look of grateful release on his face. Seeing that alone, she could almost turn them over and go for more if she thought they might survive it.

Tom drove into her a few more times, feeling his body tremble and release as she helped him on. He jolted and gasped and cried out again, until finally, that incredible agony washed away, leaving him to collapse on top of her once more.

Immediately, the exhaustion and satisfaction settled into his limbs, leaving them all but numb. His eyes closed in thanks to whatever forces there were out there when he felt her slim, strong arms slip around him again, her soft breath on his collar, then her lips, gently tasting his skin. He gave himself totally to her attention for over a minute, until he imagined he could move again.

Turning his head, nudging her to look up, he kissed her--as best he could, anyway. He still could hardly manage but to pull them down the rest of the way, until they were sitting on the floor, their limbs entwined, their breathless kissing giving way to an embrace, sated, trembling and at last, at rest. He caressed her back, distractedly tracing her lean muscles and bones, but then held her close again when she shivered.

"Computer," Tom said, nuzzling his nose and cheek against B'Elanna's neck, "increase room temperature three degrees."

She smiled again, already warm, wrapped up in him. She appreciated the thought, though.

He kissed her shoulder, tasting the slight salt of her perspiration and grinning when she hummed her approval. Above them, the environmental controls kicked in and a flush of warmth filled the room. She sighed, rubbing her cheek against his chest, gently kneaded her fingers into his long muscles.

Several hours after he helped her to her feet and guided her back to his bedroom, she was still gladly engulfed in several huge, soft pillows and a fluffy comforter, all settled atop a soft, foam-top bed, lightweight but "toasty," to put it in his words. That added with his steady warmth, she had no desire to go anywhere that morning, despite the job she'd taken back the afternoon before--which presently included a heap of maintenance and run prep.

"You have to buy it, B'Elanna," Tom smiled down to her, trying not to look at the chronometer again. But then, he knew it'd be better to get there early rather than hear Maryl's arch reminders invade that perfection wrapped around him.

Snickering lightly, she adjusted her arms and legs, closing her eyes against his soft, dry skin. They'd showered before finding their way to his bed, and she sighed through a small smile to remember his showing her what else a sonic shower was good for. But she blinked the memory away for the time being. They'd eventually have to get up and get back to their jobs. She shouldn't get herself worked up again. For that matter, moving had begun to meet her with an unusual shot of soreness. She could only imagine how he must feel.

Back to their jobs. Back to work, the day-to-day, now as a couple. Plainly, Tom wanted to continue seeing her. She wanted the same. But it would be different, and not knowing how that would work should have made her less easy than it did. She thought maybe the apprehension would hit her later...or maybe it wouldn't. She was curious, however, how to start with the others. She was certain everyone knew about Tom kissing her on the gangway by now thanks to Maryl. Should she wait for Ridge to make a comment--because he would soon enough--or should she say something? Neither option appealed to her. Not that anyone's opinion there would affect her, and it'd probably just be a little ribbing, but she did have to work with them; she didn't want her position to be compromised....

Grumbling to himself, Tom slid his hands down B'Elanna's body and turned them over to press his lips to hers. "I have to go soon," he apologized, caressing her skin, slipping his hand between her thighs, then around and up again, sure to remember every curve and muscle.

"I know," she breathed, willingly distracted. She knew his hands were capable of many great things, but the way they moved over her was better than she could have ever imagined. Deciding to return the favor, she directed her own touches down and around him, playfully eliciting a low rumble from deep in his throat.

"Hell with it, I'll give Maryl the captaincy," he grinned, pressing into her hand.

Laughing, she let him go, rubbed his back instead. "When you put it like that, you should definitely go now."

"Stay as long as you want, get some more sleep if you like," he offered, already knowing his day was going to feel like years, knowing what was waiting for him on the other end. That was the thing to get used to, he told himself with an easy grin. He would...and in some ways, he likely wouldn't too. He couldn't imagine not anticipating a moment like that, or the several they'd made the night before.

But then, he would have to--anticipate a while, starting right then. Kissing her once more, he rolled unwillingly away from her deliciously warm frame and onto the cold, dark bunkroom floor. He tried not to wince or look too stupid as he pulled himself stiffly to his feet, then walked around the corner to his closet. No question, his morning coffee would be accompanied by a strong analgesic if he planned to make it through his shift. If he got the Guerdon off the ground in one piece, he'd be impressed.

B'Elanna meanwhile, settled back into the pillows. With a deep breath, she was almost asleep again--almost, as her thoughts began to nag at her. So she listened to him rustling around in his closet, then in the main room, muttering to himself after apparently checking the comm, then walking back around to the bathroom.

"We only got half the plasma converters," he told her as he reached inside his cabinet.

B'Elanna sighed, closing her eyes. "Damn them," she muttered, then shrugged. "Not that I expected them to give us all we needed, but we do need them, Tom."

"We'll have to swing back to Irtrin, then," he replied. "I'll clear it with Maryl. She's probably already guessed it by now."

"Okay." Rolling her shoulders, she made herself relax again while he shaved and checked his nails. A minute later, he came back in, dressed in his usual shirt and trousers with his hair neatly combed. Save his hair--which mussed easily, she'd quickly learned--he was just as she had come to know him, except... "Where's your coat?"

Looking up into his admiring gaze, one she now knew he'd pointed in her direction many times over the past couple months, she finally had to ask again: "How are we going to handle this? With the crew, I mean."

"They'll get used to it," he said simply, slipping his hand under the covers to lay his fingers on her belly, then stroke teasingly south. Leaning down to her, he kissed her gently, familiarly. "Damn, I wish I could slide back in there, get warm again," he breathed against her lips, touching her hair, her cheek, tracing her shoulder. Seeing the question return to her eyes as he backed away, he grinned. Much as she denied it, she did care enough about what people thought...enough, anyway, that she didn't catch hell. It endeared him even more to know it.

"You know what you do, B'Elanna? This is how you handle it: First, don't tell them anything. Let them use their imagination. Then, when you feel like they're going to start pulling your leg, just look at them and smile a little. Don't say a word; just give them a smile that says you know it all and everything they're thinking, too, then walk away. Shuts them up every time."

"Oh it does, does it?" she said, lazily sitting to press against him when his hand slipped under her back and guided her up. She thought about when she saw him at play on the Starfleet grounds years ago, that old, nagging memory that had never really left her; she easily believed that he'd handled people just like that. "I think I'm scared to know how you were when you were a kid."

"I was a good kid," he whispered, softly kissing her again. "Full of myself, and I got in trouble sometimes. I was used to being looked at. Good and bad in that. And I want to see you again tonight, if the engine doesn't explode and we manage enough time for a sandwich."

"I'm pretty sure we'll get to that," he returned gamely, laughing to press to her once more, holding her close to nuzzle her neck before finally breaking away. "I'll never get out of here if I don't run fast." He pushed himself up and onto his feet with only a tiny grunt. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Find me at nineteen hundred," she told him, falling deep within the pillows as he disappeared around the corner. Seconds later, she heard the door swish open and shut with a little rattle and crack.

She breathed a short laugh. "Another for the list," she whispered, then decided it was her turn, and it was time indeed to get on with it. Reaching out in all directions, she stretched, arching her back and neck, then curled up on her side. Those sheets and the comforter were so perfect, though, and again shamed her for having stuck with what had come with the quarters...that she needed to get to for fresh clothing. Forcing herself to kick her legs out into the cooler air of the room, she finally scooted herself out of the bed.

The main room held little evidence of their goings on last night. The viewport had been opened to filter in the sunny day; the sofa cushions were in place and her clothes had been casually folded and set neatly upon the arm. Her short navy boots, still spread open at the cuffs, sat on the floor below. Approaching, she shivered a little to recall what they'd done there not seven hours ago, feeling his hands, lips and body pressed against hers. She could hear their sounds, see his face, feel his breath, feel his friction pushing her...

She grabbed her clothes and pulled them on, understanding why Tom had needed to escape, too. They'd never get through that day without shutting it off at some point.

She straightened up the bed before she left, then made sure her shirt was straight, too, as she came back into the living area, even if she knew it was only fifteen meters to her quarters and everyone except Nadrev and Savan was on duty. She slowed then paused as she passed the dining table on the inner side of the room. It came back to her so easily, his soft, ragged voice, his tired but thoughtful gaze...

"When you were growing up, did your teachers ever say you had a lot of potential?"

"Yes."

"They did me too. People used to tell me I'd do great things when I grew up. Personally, I thought I could do great things then."

"Looks like you've got yourself an engineer, Tom."

"...I was almost afraid you'd call me captain."

"I learn quickly."

And learned so much more, and grew, got and did so very much more than she ever could have expected when she pressed her thumb to that contract. In a million years, she could not have predicted how her life would be changed on that crappy little freighter, with its laissez-faire crew and drunken exile captain. In the worst possible place, she hadn't done half bad after all.

Her smile stayed with her long after she strode out of his quarters, finally ready to start another day.

"Sorry to drag you up here this morning. I tried to comm you last night, but you didn't have your pin on. Is the box in your quarters also on your repair list?"

B'Elanna pursed her lips. As expected, Maryl had pounced on the topic the moment an opportunity opened up. Knowing her, the Bajoran had been working all night on how to broach the topic. Setting in the new power relay, then getting to a knee to see the contract liaison's board light up, B'Elanna forced her teeth to stay together while she set the protective plating back into its grooves. Glancing up, seeing that Maryl still expected a response, B'Elanna consciously made the corners up her lips turn up as she played a shrug. Then she packed up her tool kit.

"Call me if you need anything else," B'Elanna replied, pulling herself to her feet with her free hand. Turning, she saw Tom standing in front of Savan's station, coat on and unbuttoned as usual, waiting as the Vulcan worked on getting their clearance codes from the base authority. Apparently, he'd been watching Maryl's attempts to goad them both, but his gaze returned to his engineer as soon as she appeared again. B'Elanna felt her gut quiver and her blood stir. Indeed, the ship would have to explode to make her break their date that night. Things were very new, and she understood that--but she planned to make as much use of it as it was making of her. From there on, she wasn't backing down.

Passing Tom as she headed for the corridor, she turned back, touched his chin and gave him a light kiss, and then another. His hand immediately found her waist, and he met her stare with a clever, knowing look when she pulled back again.

"See you later," she whispered. Flashing a little smile back at Maryl, B'Elanna left without another word, completely at ease.

"I don't care what you two do in your free time," Maryl quickly professed. "But you know I'll hunt you down if the engineering share doubles."

"Nor can we afford another technical assistant," Savan added with a frown and a flick of her brow.

Laughing at them both, Tom waved it off as he made his way down to his station. Checking the last of the transports, his lips turned up to see that the junked shuttle Nygorra had scraped up at the last minute had indeed been beamed into the old aft parts bay. Tom owed her one for that, not to mention the great deal she'd cut for him, and he made a mental note to pick her up one of the new mille-dittin puzzles at Ibaten. In the mean time, he and B'Elanna had a new challenge of their own to play with. There were quite a few leftover ideas for them to try to work out...

A bleep sounded behind him; Savan reported their clearance codes had been retrieved and input. Throwing a careless grin at Maryl, he finally sank into his seat and tapped on his console. "Let's get the hell out of here, warp whatever."

As the engines slowly powered on, the contract liaison finally grinned back. "Gladly."