Cruise Control
by Ancarett
Summary: An experimental navigational interface is all that will save
Voyager from alien attack, but might cost Tom's life. Can B'Elanna
change the odds? Rated PG-13. Set after "The Killing Game."
Standard Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters belong to Paramount
and Viacom, I'm only borrowing their toys and I promise to play nicely.
You have permission to download and print this story for your personal
amusement. Permission is also granted to link to or repost this story,
providing this disclaimer is included and the author is informed.
Direct all feedback to ancarett@hotmail.com.
***
All through the early morning meeting in the briefing room,
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres warily eyed _Voyager_'s second-in-command.
There was an air of suppressed excitement, almost glee, on Chakotay's
tattooed face that boded ill for a Chief Engineer, tired after a night
on the Gamma Shift. -Whatever it is,- B'Elanna prayed fervently, -let
it be something to do with Neelix or Harry or whoever, just not me and
my ship.- B'Elanna caught the commander's dark eyes darting towards
Seven's impassible face. The former Borg sat still as a statue; head
tilted just a few degrees from vertical as she listened to the debate
over the starship's present course.
The Talaxian morale officer was gesticulating wildly. "I just
don't see the value in this, captain! We know from our last planetfall
that the Maleelian Commonwealth is reputed to be a belligerent and
combative force in this sector. Their flotillas would present a
serious threat, even to a starship of _Voyager_'s class. I suggest
that we change course to skirt the Maleelian territories and avoid any
trouble."
Captain Janeway raised a calming hand. "We appreciate your
advice, Mr. Neelix, but circumnavigating the Commonwealth would add at
least seven months to our journey home. The Maleelians could solve our
problems simply enough, but all attempts to negotiate with the
Maleelian ambassador met with failure. They are simply uninterested in
permitting strangers to pass through their highly prized trading
lanes."
Ensign Harry Kim nodded vigorously. "And we can't just skirt the
edges of their claim. The Commonwealth's territories are bounded by
some dangerous anomalies, including a cluster of unstable protostars."
"Those protostars might be the only thing to convince me to alter
our course around Maleelian space," Janeway commented wryly. "It would
be a unique opportunity to explore the astrophysics of a developing
star cluster. . . ." She tapped her fingers impatiently against the
padd that lay in front of her. "However, in this case I can't justify
slowing our journey by the several months it would require to bypass
the Maleelian's claims."
Commander Chakotay leaned forward from his relaxed position at
the Captain's right hand. "Astrometrics has provided us with some
information that might well work to our advantage. There's a region of
unsettled space that stretches almost across Maleelian territory; a
sort of "no-man's land," if you will. This corridor seems to attract
little traffic by either Maleelian merchant convoys or their military
fleets. If we keep to this relatively untravelled space, we stand a
good chance of avoiding detection."
"But why do the Maleelians avoid this region? Is there something
dangerous that they know of and of which we are simply unaware?"
Tuvok's questions indicated that the cautious head of Security still
reserved judgment. "We know too little of this sector to risk the ship
and her crew. Furthermore, captain, might I remind you that you once
held similar hopes for the 'Northwest Passage' through Borg territory?"
Seven looked to Chakotay, as if seeking permission to speak, then
turned to Tuvok. "The comparison is invalid. Commander, long range
sensors confirm that this region of space contains little of economic
value to the Maleelians. There are no M-class planets and little in
the way of valuable elements in those few planetary systems that do
appear in this sector."
"But, without further information, we cannot be sure whether
economics or other motives inspire such avoidance on the part of the
Maleelians," Tuvok countered gravely.
"That is, of course, true," Seven of Nine acknowledged, "but
based upon the intelligence Mr. Neelix has provided and the evidence
from our sensor analysis, I am confident that my interpretation is the
correct one."
A raised eyebrow was all that indicated that Tuvok was not
similarly convinced, but it was a sign B'Elanna Torres recognized well
enough. With a sigh, she slouched further in the uncomfortable
briefing room chair. A sudden elbow in her side caused the engineer to
jump slightly. With an angry glint in her dark eyes, B'Elanna hissed
at Tom, "Stop it!"
"Hey, Torres," came the pilot's whispered reply, "just thought
you were falling asleep. Wouldn't be on to have _Voyager_'s engineer
snore her way through the daily briefing." A mischievous grin lit
Lieutenant Tom Paris's long, handsome face as he locked eyes with the
diminutive, duranium-strong woman seated next to him.
"Tom, pay attention," B'Elanna insisted angrily. From the corner
of her eye she saw Commander Tuvok incline his head in their direction.
With his sensitive Vulcan hearing, the senior officer was sure to
overhear their sotto voce conversation.
The tall helmsman looked ready to debate her order, when the
captain called for attention. "That's enough discussion, everybody. I
appreciate all the input, but after consideration I'm still going to go
with our dash along the Maleelian corridor. In my mind, the advantages
outweigh the risks. Besides, Commander Chakotay tells me that we might
just have something up our sleeves that will reduce the risk even
further." Captain Janeway gestured to her first officer. "If you'd
like to explain, commander?"
Chakotay nodded and began. "About two months ago, Seven of Nine
came to me with some observations about the efficiency of certain ship
systems." B'Elanna unconsciously clenched a fist against her knee,
certain that another of Seven's interfering ideas about engineering was
about to come. She relaxed slightly as Tom covered her hand with his
own in a firm, supportive caress.
Chakotay continued. "According to Seven, there were several
"unacceptable inefficiencies" in the way we ran our ship. I explained
to her the difference between Borg and Starfleet standards-" everyone
at the briefing table, except the former Borg and Tuvok smiled at the
commander's dry understatement "-but I invited her to bring forward any
proposals that might improve our performance."
"Among the many proposals she submitted was one that caught my
interest." At this, Chakotay activated the large viewscreen and called
up a series of schematics. "According to her report, the most serious
deficiency in _Voyager_'s protocols was in navigation."
Tom's indignantly indrawn breath was easily audible to B'Elanna.
She felt his hand stiffening above hers, and shifted her fingers so
that they interlaced with his. "What do you mean by navigation?" Tom
managed to ask.
Seven turned her impassive gaze upon the fair-haired pilot who
sat across from her. "Borg ships are piloted by drones who work in
perfect synchronicity with sensors and enact maneuvers as they are
indicated. Compared to the Borg, _Voyager_ operates at 78.6% of
optimal navigational response efficiency. That is unacceptable."
Still gripping B'Elanna's hand, Tom leaned forward across the
table to glare at the perfectly groomed woman. "I don't believe it!
I've seen Borg piloting firsthand and I didn't find it that
impressive."
"That is because the Borg cubes that you encountered were not
facing conventional opponents, but Species 8472. Their biological
symbiosis was an even more perfect adaptation than the Borg had
achieved." Seven's tone blended admiration and hate in the admission
of the extra-dimensional aliens' capabilities.
"Well, I hope you're not suggesting that _Voyager_ be piloted by
a bunch of Borg drones or one of those aliens, 'cause I'm telling you
now, that wouldn't be an improvement," Tom replied dangerously.
The captain intervened soothingly, "I'm sure that's not at all
what the commander had in mind, Tom." She quirked an amused eyebrow at
her first officer, "Is it, commander?"
His mouth quirked with suppressed laughter. "Not at all,
captain. In fact, what Seven proposed to me was that we adapt several
well established technologies, most of them developed in the
Federation, to improve our conn response times."
B'Elanna interrupted incredulously, "Excuse me, commander, but
just what kind of technologies are you talking about?" *They'd better
not be Borg,* was her unvoiced warning. Chakotay seemed to pick up on
the unspoken worries of his friend and subordinate and smiled
reassuringly.
"Several fairly old ideas and one or two new ones, Lieutenant
Torres," Chakotay answered. "Much of what Seven criticized was the lag
time that inevitably occurs between the issuing of orders and their
execution. She pointed out that not only do we have communication lags
between the captain and her subordinates, but that consulting
instruments brings a further delay."
Tom snorted in disbelief. "So, whatcha going to do, commander,
hardwire the ship into the captain's brain?"
"Hardly," the first officer reproved. He called up a diagram on
the viewscreen, resembling a thickened arch. "Seven's comments
reminded me about old Earth interest in what was called "heads up"
instrumentation. It was introduced into some ground vehicle operations
in the late twentieth century. More sophisticated devices, including a
body-fitted computer called the _WearComp_ enjoyed a brief popularity
in the early twenty-first century."
"However," Seven broke in, "there were many problems with the
technology as it then existed. Primitive holography resulted in
indistinct imaging. The biolinking technology was undeveloped. The
technology was soon abandoned as impractical."
"What we're proposing," Chakotay added, forestalling Tom's
comment, "is to take that principle and refine it, using modern
technologies. Specifically, a search of the Starfleet medical database
turned up an avenue in the form of VISOR technology." The viewscreen
shifted again to display the picture of a dark skinned man in Starfleet
gold and black, wearing a matte bronzed appliance that covered his
eyes, stretching almost from ear to ear.
The EMH leaned forward eagerly. "Commander Chakotay, if I may?"
Without waiting for the first officer's acknowledgment, the ship's
doctor explained, "Commander Geordi LaForge of the Enterprise was the
first to utilize this fully-developed VISOR technology. His eyes were
nonfunctional and standard surgical or cloning procedures were not
successful in restoring vision. But VISOR technology provided the
commander with enhanced visual senses, far superior to normal humans.
The Commander's VISOR enables him to perceive a wide range of radiation
and particles invisible to base-range humanoids." The EMH smirked
triumphantly at the end of his explanation, almost if he, himself, had
created the technology he had so lovingly described.
"Much of the VISOR technology is also similar to Borg visual
enhancement," Seven added helpfully. "Of course, Borg implants have
the added benefit of conveying a detailed range of analytic readings
that enable drones to examine and assess objects with great speed."
"What we're proposing is to adapt the VISOR technology to carry
navigational imaging and sensor readings. Voyager's pilot would also
be outfitted with a set of linked gloves, that would enable him, or
her, to direct the ship based upon the integrated information always on
display."
Tom shifted uneasily in his chair. "Let me get this straight,
commander. You're suggesting that _Voyager_ be flown like it was some
sort of personal holographic game?" He paused for effect, then
continued in a sarcastic drawl, "Isn't there a word for this they used
back in the twentieth century? Virtual reality? Well, let me tell
you, commander, it was a bust then and it'll be a bust, now."
Chakotay crossed his arms comfortably and leaned back against the
curve of the wall. "You surprise me, Tom, I'd've thought you'd be the
first one to want to try a "new toy" like this."
"Yeah, well I'm not," Tom bit off. B'Elanna empathized with Tom.
She wasn't any happier than he at the thought of this Borg-driven
tinkering with _Voyager_'s systems, especially since the last
disastrous episode when they'd lost the warp drive trying to create a
Borg-style transwarp corridor. *Chakotay has to be nuts,* she thought
in disbelief. *Well, at least Captain Janeway won't approve this
insane idea.*
B'Elanna's comfort was shortlived, as the captain spoke for the
first time since Chakotay began his presentation. "When Commander
Chakotay brought this idea to my attention, I have to admit that I,
too, was sceptical. But I asked him to work with Seven and create a
working prototype of the interface. They've been at it now for several
weeks and are now ready for the first "real world" tests."
B'Elanna's spine straightened with a crack. "What?" the half-
Klingon barked. *This is beginning to feel more and more like a really
bad day,* she thought darkly.
"That's right," Chakotay continued smoothly as B'Elanna visibly
fumed. "We have a prototype ready to use with one of our shuttles. I
was hoping that Tom would volunteer to be the test pilot," his dark
eyes swept across the room to meet Tom's stormy gaze, "but if not, I'm
more than willing to do the duty myself."
"What will it be, Tom?" Captain Janeway asked.
Tom drew himself up carefully. "I appreciate your offer,
commander, captain, but I'm not sure that I'm entirely comfortable with
this proposal."
"Why not?" Janeway inquired, her face knit with concern as she
tried to puzzle out the reason behind the uncharacteristically reticent
response from Voyager's daredevil helmsman.
"Frankly, Captain, this interface idea sounds a bit rough around
the edges. What kind of pre-testing has been done on the hardware?
How well does it link with the computer? How does the pilot process
orders given by someone he can't see with these -things!- over his eyes
and on his hands?" Tom leaned back in his seat, obviously stemming a
further list of questions and challenges about Seven's latest
innovation.
The captain grimaced. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Tom. I
won't order you to test the hardware." She swiveled in her seat to
look at her first officer. "Chakotay, you'll act as pilot for the
tests. I want B'Elanna to work with you and Seven on the installation
of the interface links with our computer and the shuttle's systems. Is
that understood?" Her gaze sought out the agreement of everyone still
seated at the table. "Good," she concluded as she stood up from the
table. "Dismissed." She strode from the briefing room, with Chakotay
close behind her.
B'Elanna rose slowly from her seat at the briefing table. Tom's
set face worried her, yet she didn't know what she could say or do that
would shake him out of this discontent. Maybe later in the day, when
she joined him in the holodeck for some eagerly awaited down time,
B'Elanna could probe the mystery. For now, she settled for a quick
squeeze of his shoulder and strode for the exit.
"Lieutenant," Seven interjected, just as B'Elanna had reached the
threshold. Sighing inwardly, B'Elanna squared her shoulders and turned
to regard the other woman.
"What is it, Seven?"
The tall blonde reached out to hand her padd to B'Elanna. "These
are the specifications for the interface. A detailed breakdown of
materials and construction are included."
"Wellll," drawled B'Elanna as she unhappily accepted the padd,
"I'll be checking it over myself before we begin construction."
Seven's right eyebrow rose affrontedly. "There is no need.
These specifications are correct and complete."
"As _Voyager_'s Chief of Engineering, I'll be the judge of that,"
B'Elanna crisply informed the other woman before sharply exiting the
briefing room.
In the privacy of the turbolift whisking her down to Main
Engineering, B'Elanna surveyed the material on the navigational
interface. Reluctantly she admitted that the idea and execution were
both ingenious. B'Elanna thought she detected Chakotay's hand in the
set of overrides, buffers and monitoring devices included in the
design. Seven, she thought cynically, would not have given such
consideration to the operator.
Once back in her domain, with the dim lights and rhythmic hum of
the warp core comfortably enveloping her, B'Elanna assembled a small
team to begin assembly and testing of the prototype. When Joe Carey
came on shift at 1600 hours, she gratefully handed over the project and
went off-duty. There was only time for a hurried dinner in the Mess
Hall before B'Elanna rushed to meet Tom at Holodeck Two.
Tom's program was already running when she arrived, a few minutes
late, at 1633 hours. B'Elanna entered hesitantly. All she knew was
this was another one of Tom's personal programs. Unlike Sandrine's and
the popular resort program, Tom's many personal programs were generally
designed for one or two participants. As she strode through the
holodeck doors she saw a wooden wall, its deep red coat of paint faded
and chipped. Long strands of grass marred the sharp edges where the
building walls met the ground. Muffled sounds of metal on metal
directed her steps along a well-worn pass in the dry grass, to the
right.
Tom was facing away from B'Elanna, bent over an unfamiliar
metallic object. Her mind quickly racing, B'Elanna identified it as
another one of his beloved twentieth-century cars. She absently
acknowledged that as her eyes lingered on Tom's figure, leaning over
the open front end of the vehicle. Her breathing was loud enough to be
heard in the pastoral quiet of the prairie farmland the holoemitters
projected. At least, that's what B'Elanna assumed caused Tom to raise
his head abruptly and injudiciously, given the low overhang of the
engine's covering where he worked.
"Ouch. Damnit!," Tom raised a hand to the crown of his head and
rubbed it feelingly, then gingerly backed away and straightened. The
white, short-sleeved shirt he wore was thin enough that his skin tone
turned it to a deep cream, except where thicker folds of fabric trimmed
it at neck and armholes. Sweat already darkened the fabric in a few
spots and one dark brown line marked the front, where Tom had obviously
been leaning against a dirty component. B'Elanna's eyes drifted
higher, to see Tom's face distorted into a rueful scowl.
"No matter how many times I remind myself to be careful, I
*always* bump my head on the damned hood," Tom explained, gesturing
towards the sweep of shaped metal arced above the engine. "Nice of you
to join me, Torres."
B'Elanna stepped forward to join Tom at the front of the car.
She curiously looked down into the maze of unfamiliar parts. "So this
is what your program is," she ventured, "an old-Earth automotive
study?"
"Hell, no, B'Elanna, this isn't some academic study," Tom
explained. One hand leaned down to caress the silver metal that
trimmed the front of the vehicle in a set of parallel lines. "I just
like to tinker with old twentieth century cars. Historical recreation
is a great hobby. Of course, I never could afford the real thing, but
with holodecks like this one, it's hard to tell the difference.
Besides, messing with a classic car engine is fun."
"Fun?" queried B'Elanna, standing hipshot with her arms crossed.
"You're beginning to sound like an engineer."
Tom arched an eyebrow suggestively. "Find that sexy, Chief?"
With lips pursed, the half-Klingon considered Tom's question.
"Hmm. That's hard to tell. I'd have to see how good you are with your
tools." Her voice deepened on the final words and she returned Tom a
glance as suggestive as his own.
The pilot's grin broadened and he gestured towards the engine in
front of them. "Maybe we could check them out . . . together?"
B'Elanna stared dubiously at the unfamiliar mechanisms of the old
Earth automobile. Despite Voyager's retrieval of another ancient
automobile earlier in its journey across the Delta Quadrant, she had to
admit she knew little about these old vehicles. Professional curiosity
warred with a fear of embarrassment. Her adventurous spirit soon
decided the issue. After all, almost anything with Tom was guaranteed
to be fun!
"All right," she declared, pushing up the sleeves of her
engineering smock and uniform, "I'll give it a try."
"Whoa there," Tom cautioned. "First we have to get you into the
proper ambience."
B'Elanna eyed Tom sourly. She'd almost forgotten how annoying
she found the pilot's interest in micromanaging holographic
experiences. "Ambience," she drawled, hoping that he didn't mean what
she thought he meant.
"Yeah, you know, you've got to have the attitude, the look, the
clothes," Tom supplied cheerfully. "Computer, open a holographic
subchannel and project a selection of female attire, old Earth circa
1969." A dark rectangle fuzzily opened to his right and displayed the
image of a long-sleeved dress in a pale yellow color. That disappeared
to reveal a jacket and straight green skirt. Tom tilted his head to
one side. "No, I was looking for something more informal," he
directed. The image changed again to reveal what seemed to B'Elanna
like a dressmaker's nightmare, a loudly patterned bra-like top and
microscopic skirt. An angry frown knit her brow. Tom sighed wistfully
as he noted B'Elanna's reaction to the first choice. As a parade of
similarly skimpy outfits appeared, B'Elanna was about to turn the
subchannel off when Tom intervened.
"How about this one?" The outfit now displaying was a bit more
respectable. At least the loose top, with its half-length sleeves and
geometric patterns would cover a woman's upper body fairly well. The
fringed, miniscule shorts, of a similar soft blue to Tom's pants,
however, B'Elanna rejected. A holographic shirt she could easily
handle by shucking her uniform top, but to wear those projected shorts
she'd have to strip and although the thought of doing that with Tom was
always pleasurable, she knew that Harry had been invited to join them
later. -No way-, B'Elanna vowed, -will Harry, or anyone else on
Voyager, see me parading around in something that ridiculous.-
B'Elanna tilted her chin. "The shirt, okay, helmboy. The rest.
. . ," she let the threat drift off darkly.
Tom Paris hadn't become B'Elanna Torres' lover and best friend
without being able to read at least some of her signals. He took what
he could get. "Okay, _this time_. But someday, Torres, I'd like to
see you dress the whole part." He directed the holodeck to create a
holographic shirt for B'Elanna to wear. In her turn, the young
engineer stripped off her smock and jacket, standing in her brief grey
halter while the shirt formed around her. Despite its illusory nature,
the garment moved and felt like a real top. B'Elanna had to admit
that, wearing the loose shirt adorned with sharply-defined brown, gold
and white patterns, she felt a bit more part of the scene they now
inhabited.
"Good, now that's taken care of we can get to work." Tom stepped
forward that leaned across the engine. "This baby's in great shape. I
programmed the computer with a variety of classic cars: Mustangs,
Cougars, Jags and so on. But this has got to be one of my favorites."
"Pardon my ignorance, but what kind of car is this?"
Tom feigned indignation. "My dear lady, you have the privilege
of working on a genuine, eight-cylinder 1969 Chevrolet Camaro. In
their heyday, this was the kind of car a guy wanted to have to impress
his buddies and," Tom's left hand sneaked out to caress B'Elanna's
behind, "his best girl."
"Oh," was all B'Elanna could manage as Tom's light touch roused
her senses. She knew that her body was leaning over the engine of the
car as Tom named and described the functions of various components, but
her concentration remained fixed on the idle sweep of his long fingers
along her back.
She shot a glance to her right. Tom's voice droned on in a
pedantic monotone, but his lips quirked and his eyes flicked from the
engine to meet hers. "Pig!" she accused, arresting his roving hand
with an iron grasp.
"Guilty as charged," Tom spluttered as he tried to retrieve his
abused appendange. B'Elanna held on perversely, drawing him towards
her. Awkwardly, still half-bent over the engine compartment, Tom
lurched towards her. It wasn't until he leaned fully into her that
B'Elanna realized she'd been had.
Despite her best efforts, her lips twitched and she smiled.
"You're not really planning to work on this engine, are you, bright
boy?"
Tom leaned his head so close that she felt his warm breath on her
cheek. "Nah, more like work on an engineer, I think," he admitted
before claiming her lips for a deep kiss.
B'Elanna was more than willing but a hazy part of her mind
shouted alarms. "Tom, what about Harry?" she managed.
"Harry? I forgot!" Tom stepped back carefully from the hood,
drawing B'Elanna with him. "Computer, state location of Ensign Kim."
"Ensign Kim is on the bridge."
Tom's lascivious grin returned. "That's right, Harry mentioned
to me that Tuvok had asked him to work an extra half-shift tonight.
He's helping the commander set up some new internal security sensors."
"Hmm, then Harry's no problem," B'Elanna mused.
"No more than he ever is," Tom quipped. B'Elanna assumed a
foreboding look and twisted his forearm. "Hey, ouch!"
"Harry's my friend," B'Elanna explained with mock anger, "and I
won't have you badmouthing him to me." A small grin belied her stern
words.
"I always knew you liked him better than me," Tom groused.
She smiled sweetly. "Guess you're just going to have to try and
change my mind."
Tom pulled gently on her free hand. "Then come with me,
sweetheart. I'm going to show you another benefit of excellent
holoprogramming, as performed by yours truly." They took a few steps
to the building B'Elanna had first seen. A large set of doors set
slightly open, revealing a darkened interior. Tom edged inside and
B'Elanna followed.
"There should be a hayloft in here," Tom explained as he led her
a few more hesitant steps inside. As their eyes adjusted to the dim
light, Tom crowed triumphantly. "Aha!"
He stood beside the wooden ladder. "After you."
B'Elanna wrinkled her nose. "Gee, thanks." Quickly she climbed
the ladder, to end about three meters above the floor in a room filled
with golden stems that crackled and shifted under her feet.
Tom's head popped up over the edge. "Here we are." B'Elanna
looked around hesitantly. "Just exactly what is this place."
"Don't tell me they didn't have haylofts on Kessik IV?"
B'Elanna scowled defensively. "Not so far as I knew."
"Well," Tom explained, "haylofts are part of mythic Earth
tradition. For generations, countless young men and women explored
the, um, natural world, by spending time in haylofts." He looked
around the room. "Consider this an initiation into a time-honoured
human ritual," he continued as he rummaged in a chest against the
building's steeply sloping outer wall. Emerging with a soft blanket in
his hand, Tom turned to B'Elanna. "Madame, if you're ready?"
With a flourish he laid the blanket across a deep pile of the
sweet-smelling hay then grasped B'Elanna's hand to pull her gently down
beside him. A mischievous smile lit his face. "Computer, delete
holographic shirt on Lieutenant Torres." In an instant, the top
dematerialized, leaving B'Elanna only in her uniform pants and singlet.
"You see why wearing the entire holographic outfit would have been a
lot more fun? Oofhh," he exclaimed as, with a well-placed shove,
B'Elanna rolled him back onto the blanket.
"Time to put up or shut up," she threatened, pinning her tall
lover back against the soft nest. Keeping his wrists pinned on either
side of his head, B'Elanna lowered her mouth to his.
His mouth opened readily, tongue eagerly stroking her own,
invading the recesses of her mouth. Tom's head raised slowly off the
blanket as B'Elanna teasingly withdrew. His eyes fluttered open and he
smiled. "Put up," he cryptically pronounced as he ground his hips
against her own. B'Elanna raised an eyebrow. "Good choice, helmboy,"
she managed before lowering her head to his, "Now, shut up."
*
"So this is what a hayloft is for?"
"Yup," Tom replied. He reached a hand out to smooth her hair,
extracting a strand of hay that he then used to tickle her nose. She
wrinkled it warningly. Nestling close to Tom, head pillowed on his arm,
she lay beside her lover. Her eyes followed his, up to the wooden
ceiling of the loft where dust motes danced in the scant rays of light.
Unwittingly, their playful mood sobered. B'Elanna thought she
knew why. Tom was revisiting that morning's briefing. Inwardly she
debated. Should she let it slide? That was hardly the style of
B'Elanna Torres. She propped herself up on her right elbow, regarding
Tom's still distant expression. "Ration credit for your thoughts," she
offered.
Surprise caused Tom's blue eyes to refocus on B'Elanna's flushed
face. He smiled despite himself.
"I don't know. Somehow I have the feeling if I won that bet I'd
feel worse than if I lost."
B'Elanna smirked at Tom's joke, but refused to be distracted.
"You're thinking about the new nav system, aren't you, Paris?"
Tom stiffened slightly, the expression around his eyes
tightening. "And if I was?"
B'Elanna thought for a moment. She had to be careful and choose
her words, neither of which were her best skills. "What was it about
Chakotay's and Seven's idea that really bugged you?"
Tom slid slightly away and rolled to his side so that he could
see her more easily. "You really want to know?" he asked.
B'Elanna nodded. "I know you, Tom Paris, it's not in your
character to be cautious when a new challenge presents itself. The man
who broke the warp ten barrier wouldn't normally hesitate from trying
something new."
"Yeah, well, maybe I've changed since then," Tom responded.
B'Elanna reached out to run a finger along the line of his jaw.
"Of course you've changed since then," she cajoled. "I'd never have
been seen with the pig you were then."
Tom's lips quirked into a brief smile, then resumed their sombre
lines. He broke eye contact and stared intently at rumpled fold of the
blanket between them. "Well, B'Elanna, I guess I'm just a little . . .
spooked by this new idea. It doesn't sound natural."
"Natural!" B'Elanna hooted, in spite of herself. "This from a
man who pilots a starship, works as an assistant to a medical hologram,
plays in a holodeck and has been catapulted into the farthest reaches
of the galaxy?"
"Yeah, I know, coming from me it _does_ sound strange," Tom
acknowledged. "But it's the interface system. It seems like they're
taking the joy out of piloting. Pretty soon they'll just be bypassing
people all together and letting a computer drive the ship."
His eyes drifted off. She could see he was trying to find words
to express himself. He began hesitantly. "It's kinda like what it is
with these classic cars in my programs. You see, twenty, fifty, a
hundred or more years later, collectors still treasured them and try to
keep them just they way they were designed. Sure, there've been
technological advances since they were first designed, but what matters
more is to keep things real. To keep things the way they were
designed. The way they ought to be."
B'Elanna nodded slowly. "Kind of like putting impulse engines on
your _Camargue_, out there, huh?"
"That's _Camaro_, you ignoramus," Tom corrected in good humour.
"But, yeah, kind of like that. More so, though, I feel is that we're
opening a Pandora's box. Despite what Seven says, I think Starfleet
designer's have given us one of the best set-ups. If we have to rely
on some high-tech interface built around one individual, we're asking
for a lot of trouble, to my mind."
"It's more than that though, isn't it, Tom? I mean, I believe
you're sincere about these concerns, but something else is bothering
you," B'Elanna prodded when Tom fell silent.
He lay back on the blanket, pillowing his head against his
crossed arms.
"Well, I'm not very happy that Chakotay and Seven were working on
this without consulting me," he admitted. "Everytime I think I'm part
of the team, something like this comes along and I learn that I'm left
out of the loop again."
B'Elanna snorted. "You're not the only one who got left in the
dark, you know. After all, it is my ship they'll be tinkering with!"
"Yeah, but with you it's never a question that Commander Chakotay
doesn't trust you. With me, it _always_ is," Tom insisted.
"Well, I think you're wrong there, Tom." At his disbelieving
snort, B'Elanna left that line. "I also think you're wrong not to be
part of this testing."
Tom arched an eyebrow as he slanted a look in her directions.
"Et tu, Brutus?"
"Funny, funny, Paris," she retorted. "No, I mean, if anybody is
going to be using this new interface in the future on _Voyager_, I'd
prefer that it was you. You're our best pilot, probably the best pilot
we could have, and if the captain's going to be installing this system,
you're the one who should be using it."
"Hmmm," was Tom's unconvinced reply.
B'Elanna sat up, uncaring of her unclothed state. Caught up in
the argument. "Look at it this way, Tom. Would you rather have
Chakotay, or, God help us, Seven piloting this ship in a crisis, just
because you're not up on the latest technology? Or would you rather be
the one."
Tom's eyes gleamed in the dim light. "You're just saying this
'cause you're worried about your precious ship," he accused.
She growled in frustration. "No, I'm not, Tom. Well, I _am_
always worried about the ship, but that's not the point. The point is
that you're the best person for this job. If you're not doing the
testing, it won't get done right."
Tom sat up suddenly, closing the space between them. "Okay,
okay," he interrupted her diatribe. B'Elanna opened and closed her
mouth wordlessly. His sudden acquiescence disarmed her.
"Huh?" she queried eloquently. Tom raised a finger to her lips.
"I'm saying, Torres, that I see the truth in what you're saying. The
captain's going ahead with these tests and I'll be damned if Chakotay
is going to have one up on me if we end up integrating these systems.
Besides, if I'm there at the testing stage, maybe I can find the flaw
in the plan that will scrap this so-called improvement altogether."
"Anyway," he said huskily, his blue eyes coming so close she
could see the distinctive shading of his irises, "according to my
calculations we have at least another hour on our holodeck reservation
and I wouldn't want to waste it."
Assuming a pose of innocence, B'Elanna turned to reach for her
clothes. "That's right, I never _did_ get to see how good you are with
your tools, did I?" With her head turned, she never saw the tackle
that brought her down.
"Ouch, Tom!"
"What is it, B'Elanna. Am I playing a little rough for you?" Tom
asked solicitiously, a twinkle of mockery lightening his expression.
"No, dammit, I've just rolled off the blanket into the hay and it
prickles!"
While Tom convulsed in laughter, B'Elanna seized the moment to
roll them both onto the relative comfort of the blanket. Soon they
were too engrossed in each other to notice where they were at all.
*
In the end, it took three days before B'Elanna was comfortable
with the new instrumentation. She established a monitoring system in
the shuttle _Olympe_ that Chakotay would operate during the testing.
Seven elected to remain on board to monitor the main computer interface
while the Doctor nervously supervised Tom's outfitting with modified
VISOR system. When all systems were ready, B'Elanna rode the turbolift
up to deck five, where Tom was being fitted with the navigational
interface. She arrived in sickbay just as the doctor was finishing his
procedures.
"Not wanting to carry out a full-fledge neural implant, I've
designed this cutaneous patch that will faciliate data transfer between
your cerebral cortex and the VISOR control system." The doctor
carefully secured a thin, circular device to Tom's left temple.
Tapping briefly on his diagnostic padd, the EMH hummed happily. "Two
smaller transmitters in the gloves will work through the VISOR," he
continued as he indicated the wire mesh gloves Tom was smoothing into
place. "Careful, Mr. Paris! Those are delicate instruments!"
Tom shot the holograph a dirty look. "Hey, doc, don't you trust
me?"
"Of course I trust you, Mr. Paris," the doctor responded airily,
"which is why I've made sure we have three additional pairs of gloves
along with several spare patches. However, we have only one VISOR so
I'd appreciate it if you'd leave that alone until the start of the
test." He fixed Tom with a dark look.
"You don't have to worry there, doc. I'm not looking forward to
putting on that torture device until I have to."
Piqued, the EMH turned his back on Tom and began to stow his
instruments. Tom hopped down biobed, carefully avoiding touching
anything with his gloves.
"Here, I'll take that," B'Elanna offered as Tom helplessly
regarded the VISOR. It had been modified slightly from the implant
they'd seen in the briefing room. The ridged front had given way to a
sleek metallic covering, while two small earpieces had been added to
carry the slight weight of the interface.
"Guess I'm ready to go," Tom offered nervously as they exited
sickbay, en route to the shuttle bay.
"Chakotay is already warming up the shuttle, and Seven's in
Astrometrics, just waiting for the test to begin.
Tom nodded, obviously a bit distracted. B'Elanna didn't begrudge
him that. Although he'd run through the holographic programs a few
times under Chakotay's careful tutelage, he still didn't know how this
new interface would act when fully functional. The pair kept silence
until just outside the shuttle bay doors.
B'Elanna stepped in front of Tom before he could enter. His
startled gaze questioned her actions. "Look," she said, "I just wanted
to let you know that, if you don't want to go ahead with this, you
don't have to. I don't want you thinking you're doing it for me or
something."
Tom stopped her babbling with a sweet smile. "Thanks, B'Elanna,
but I'm doing this because it's my job. I may not like this new scheme
the Commander and Seven have cooked up but you all were right. I'm the
best one to test it."
B'Elanna returned his smile a bit uneasily. She glanced
backwards over her shoulder to the shuttle bay doors. "Well, then,
just one more thing before you go. . . ." Her free hand wrapped around
Tom's neck, lowering his mouth for a passionate kiss. His hands
confined in the gloves, Tom was unable to return her embrace but the
eager response was enough for the moment.
She released him from the embrace, took a deep breath and then
turned around to activate the automatic door. It hummed open and
Voyager's Chief Engineer and pilot entered the shuttle bay.
"Lieutenants," greeted Chakotay formally, "I'm glad you're here."
With one hand, he indicated the open shuttle hatch. "I've got the
_Olympe_ ready to go. Tom, if you'll take the copilot's seat, I'll
take the VISOR from B'Elanna. Captain Janeway's given us an hour to
perform today's test, so we'll take her right out and get underway."
His words and actions gently excluded the engineer.
B'Elanna watched as the two men entered the shuttle to finish the
preflight. Resolutely, she tapped her combadge. "Torres to
Engineering," she hailed.
"Engineering here," came Susan Nicoletti's familiar voice.
"The _Olympe_ is ready for the test. Route all incoming data
from the shuttle's monitors to Astrometrics," B'Elanna ordered as she
exited the shuttle bay. Tom might be flying his test, but she had her
own duties to perform as Chakotay's actions had reminded her. This
hour of down time would serve well to perform a refit of the torpedo
reloading mechanisms. B'Elanna made a mental note to see if Ensign
Vorik had enjoyed that pleasure yet.
*
Maintenance and other routine tasks filled the rest of B'Elanna's
shift. Like the others, she'd sighed in relief when Captain Janeway
pronounced a successful end to the test in a shipwide announcement.
But four hours later, B'Elanna had heard little more. With a final
flourish, she tapped the controls that sent copies of her shift report
to the command officers and into the engineering logs. Duties
complete, she was more than eager to hear Tom's story.
She entered the mess hall to see quite a crowd surrounding Tom.
Neelix hovered on the edge, trying to keep one eye on his cooking while
he listened to Tom's account. To B'Elanna's eye, another eight
crewmembers jostled around Tom and Harry, asking excited questions.
She came to the edge of the group and unapologetically worked her
way in. A steady glare forced Gerron out of the seat he'd been
enjoying beside Tom. B'Elanna appropriated the chair as Tom, without
missing a beat, draped an arm loosely around her shoulder.
"Well," he was explaining, "before Chakotay engaged the VISOR, I
felt like I was sitting in a black box. Then the systems came online
and, let me tell you, it was nothing like the simulations we'd run in
the holodeck!"
"How's that," Harry Kim enquired curiously.
Tom pondered for a moment, quizzically rubbing his chin. "In the
simulations, it was just like any piloting experience. I'm not sure
but I think the holoemitters interfere with the interface's direct
effect. Whatever it was, when Chakotay activated the system out there
in the shuttle, it felt like I _was_ the shuttle."
"Come on," Harry chided.
"No, really! The VISOR makes you feel like you're the one
floating in space. It was disorienting at first, let me tell you. I
thought I'd be spacesick for a moment or two, until I got used to it.
But after a while, you get used to the new environment. I could see
and use the controls, and yet never lose sight of the entire starfield.
And let me tell you, I was able to do some fancy flying in that rig."
B'Elanna indulgently observed Tom's excited and pleased
expression. Given the captain's insistence on the testing, she was
happy that Tom had enjoyed the experience he'd so strenuously fought at
first.
Neelix bustled up beside B'Elanna, placing a tray in front of
her. "Here, Lieutenant, I saved some Grixxi griddle cakes for you."
Tom leaned back to answer a question from Ensign Davies while B'Elanna
warily eyed the gray-blue circles on the plate in front of her.
"Gee, thanks," she acknowledged drily. Neelix preened slightly,
then leant forward.
"You're welcome, Lieutenant Torres. I made them specially when I
heard how well Lieutenant Paris's test flight had gone. Funny, though,
he hasn't touched his yet." The Talaxian raised his voice to address
the crowd. "Now, now, everybody, there'll be enough time to hear about
Mr. Paris's flying later. Right now it's time to eat. Griddle cakes
for everybody!"
The crowd reluctantly broke up, with only a few taking the cook
up on his offer. Beside B'Elanna, Tom sighed and tightened his hold on
her shoulders. "Whew!" he managed, looking ruefully at Harry Kim,
still seated across the table.
Harry raised an eyebrow before carefully cutting into his own
serving of Grixxi griddle cakes. Dubiously he eyed the food before
bringing fork to mouth. B'Elanna and Tom watched intently while he
chewed and swallowed.
"Verdict?" Tom asked.
Harry grimaced. "I'll give it a six out of ten. A little salty
for my tastes." Doggedly, he carved himself another bite while Tom and
B'Elanna followed suit.
B'Elanna stole another look at Tom. He seemed to ignore the
flavour, although he put down his fork with finality after only eating
a third of the serving. Then again, that could probably be attributed
to Neelix's creative cookery. Less objectionable to her half-Klingon
palate, half of her griddle cakes still went untasted. Harry, however,
seemed to feel obligated to eat all of his.
"So," Tom began, folding his arms as he lounged back in the
molded chair, "if all the data checks out, we'll be doing another
shuttle test run tomorrow."
B'Elanna looked up in surprise. "So soon?"
"The captain wants to get any problems shaken out of the system
before we enter Maleelian space," Harry explained. His eyes narrowed
as Tom raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Something wrong,
Tom?"
"Nah, probably just tension, but I've got a bit of a headache,"
Tom replied. He rose from the table, lifting his tray, "Look,
B'Elanna, Harry, I'm sorry to cut this short, but I owe the doc a half-
shift in sickbay while he tutors Sam Wildman and Jenny Delaney."
"Finally getting some other understudies lined up, is he?" Harry
smiled broadly.
Tom nodded enthusiastically. "After that last scare, I'm doing
everything I can to make sure that there are other qualified medical
assistants on this ship." He strode away to stow his tray, then swung
by for a quick farewell to B'Elanna. "See you at 2200, your quarters?"
he asked. B'Elanna nodded abruptly, unwilling to show too much
disappointment at his early departure.
As Tom exited the mess hall, Harry shook his head disbelievingly.
"His attitude's sure changed since he flew that shuttlecraft. You
should have seen the telemetry! Even Commander Tuvok was impressed.
Using that equipment, Tom scored at or above the benchmark in three
standard Starfleet tests. If this equipment works as well for Voyager.
. . ." Harry let his voice trail away as he considered the
possibilities.
B'Elanna harrumphed as she poked her fork at the cooling griddle
cakes. "We didn't get much info down in Engineering. But I did notice
that the interface drew a lot of power and computing time from the
shuttle's systems."
"Well, in my mind, that's a small price to pay if it will get
Voyager out of the next tight situation we run into," Harry averred,
memories of weeks under Hirogen control still clearly on his mind.
"That may be," B'Elanna retorted heatedly, "but you're not the
one expected to cobble together the resources to support new systems.
We're limping together on patches and prayers, Starfleet, and I'd
rather see us get fully restocked and refitted before we go tinkering
with one of the last systems in full working order."
Harry grinned affectionately across the table at B'Elanna's
outraged expression. Whatever he might have said next was lost when
his combadge chirped. "Seven of Nine to Ensign Kim." The tactical
officer sat up and responded, "Ensign Kim, here."
"Ensign Kim," the filtered voice acknowledged, "I require your
assistance in Astrometrics."
"On my way," Harry responded. He ruefully excused himself.
"Sorry, B'Elanna, but I promised Seven to give her a hand in setting up
the plans for an improved interface."
B'Elanna's eyebrows rose high in displeasure. "Without clearing
it with engineering?"
Harry looked shocked. "This is just the design stage. It's
supposed to be in Commander Chakotay's hands in the morning for his
approval. I'm guessing that you'll be seeing this in engineering
tomorrow." With a jaunty wave, Harry exited the Mess Hall.
Disgustedly, B'Elanna looked around. The current crowd was
thinning out and she didn't want to wait and see what other delicacies
Neelix had cooked up. Clearing her tray contents into the recycler,
B'Elanna prepared to leave the common room.
Time sat a bit heavily on her hands that evening. She and Tom
didn't have any holodeck time for two more nights, so she couldn't
distract herself with a program. Chakotay was busy, she knew, so there
was no use begging for a game of hoverball. She considered going back
to engineering, but decided against interrupting the quiet schedule of
repairs she'd left for Joe Carey to supervise. In the end, she settled
for those thankless tasks she usually guilted Tom into doing for her.
Inwardly grumbling, she put her uniforms into the 'fresher, tidied the
other clothes that haphazardly littered her quarters and sorted through
the padds on her desk. By 2200 her quarters were abnormally tidy,
she'd bathed and changed into a chocolate brown, richly napped pants
suit that she'd replicated after the latest refit. It had taken nine
days worth of replicator rations, but B'Elanna felt it worth the
sacrifice. Her half-Klingon metabolism enjoyed the warmth of the rich
fabric, but she'd noticed Tom's eyes lingered along the curves and
lines the folds of the fabric caressed.
At a few minutes after the hour, the door chimes interrupted her
lazy musing. "Enter," she called. Tom took two steps in before seeing
the woman curled up on the couch. His smile broadened. "Boy, are you
a sight for sore eyes!" he enthused as he sat down beside her.
B'Elanna cracked a feral grin. "So you didn't get any ideas
about giving Jenny Delaney some special tutoring?" she purred.
Tom's eyes widened in shock. He raised a hand to his chest and
affected a hurt expression. "B'Elanna, I'm hurt! You know there's
been nothing between Jenny and me for years!"
"Just reminding you, Tom," she warned, leaning closer. "I marked
you and you're mine."
Tom lounged back into the soft cushions of the sofa. "Take me,
I'm yours!" His falsely dramatic pronouncement sent them both into
helpless laughter, before B'Elanna proceeded to act on his claim.
After all, she didn't want Tom to think she never took his wishes into
consideration.
*
By the time they crossed into Maleelian territory, Voyager had
inaugurated the new navigational system into its protocols. Captain
Janeway proceeded cautiously. In the morning briefing, she praised the
section leaders who'd collaborated on the project, concentrating her
praise upon Seven and Tom. "I'm glad to see that you've taken such an
active role in this, Tom," the captain said. Tom shrugged his
shoulders dismissively. "It's really Seven and Commander Chakotay you
should be congratulating," he answered. "I'm just the guinea pig."
Seven's brow crinkled. Once again, another of Tom's obscure
phrases had eluded her. The EMH considerately leaned over and
explained the term in a whispered aside. Her face smoothed.
"Lieutenant Paris is correct," the blonde asserted. "His major function
has been as test subject, yet that contribution has been valuable."
She paused, then her mouth pursed as if tasting something distasteful.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Seven finally managed.
The captain's eyes danced with mischief and B'Elanna stifled a
laugh of her own. Obviously, the former Borg's lessons in human
interaction continued apace.
"Ahem," Janeway finally managed. "Well, now that the system's
been tested, I've decided that we'll start training all our pilots in
its usage. For the moment, I don't intend to replace our regular
navigational system with the VISOR technology, but I'd like all our
pilots to become familiar with its usage."
Commander Chakotay leaned his elbows forward on the table. "For
now, at least, we'll be scheduling an hour each shift for pilots to
work with and become familiar with the new set up. Also, all pilots
will be expected to log five hours in simulator time before working
with the new protocols. So for now, that just leaves Tom and myself as
qualified in the VISOR interface."
"Is our goal to switch over to the new interface permanently?"
Harry enquired.
The captain frowned minutely. "Not at this time, Ensign. But
there are some situations where it would be most useful. For instance,
if we had chosen the route near the protostar cluster. The new
interface would make it possible to do a very close fly-by on such
unstable stellar phenomena."
"Similarly," Chakotay added, "if we did happen to run into one of
these rumoured Maleelian flotilla, I'd think the new interface would
give Voyager a real advantage against so many small and maneuverable
opponents."
The captain cleared her throat and looked around significantly.
"Since the Maleelians failed to respond to our diplomatic overtures at
our last planetfall and have ignored all other attempts to communicate,
I want to get through their territory as quickly and quietly as
possible. Mr. Paris, we'll maintain a cruising speed of warp seven."
She turned a steely eye on her engineer. "Can the engines handle this,
Lieutenant Torres?"
"Since we managed to secure a sizeable amount of dilithium in
trade, we're well-stocked. The engines are operating at reasonable
efficiency. As long as we don't try to push that for more than, say,
ten days, I think we'll be all right."
Janeway nodded thoughtfully as she tucked a strand of hair behind
her ear. "At warp seven we should be clear of the region in less than
that. All right, people, I think that's it for now. Dismiss." The
briefing room began to clear. B'Elanna shot a smile at Tom making his
way to the conn. She held back, and collared Chakotay.
Her longtime friend smiled as she caught his arm. "What can I do
for you, B'Elanna?"
She looked over her shoulder. "It's Tom. I'd like you to keep
an eye on him."
Chakotay's expression sobered. "What's the problem?"
She frowned uncertainly. "I'm not sure. But he's been taking a
number of analgesics. He doesn't complain much about them, but I know
he's been having some bad headaches. And his sleep. . . ." B'Elanna's
voice trailed off as she realized maybe her mentor didn't need to hear
too much about her private life. But this was important! She
continued determinedly. "His sleep's been restless, interrupted. He
seems almost to stop breathing, then comes to with a shout. I'm
wondering if it might have something to do with all the hours he's
putting in on the new nav system. Yesterday he was wearing the
equipment for five hours."
Chakotay's expression became thoughtful. "It sounds pretty
serious. I wonder if it might be related to the system itself, rather
than overwork. We've been trying to monitor any physiological
reactions to the headgear. To the best of my knowledge, Tom hasn't
mentioned anything about this to the doctor. I've had a few headaches
myself recently, but I'd thought they were simply due to the fact that
I was using a VISOR that we'd replicated to Tom's measurements. I'll
have to ask him about this." Face carefully blank, the commander
preceded her from the briefing room.
As the turbolift carried her down to Main Engineering, B'Elanna
sagged against the compartment wall. Tom wouldn't be too happy if she
got him called on the carpet with Chakotay, but she was worried enough
to risk his displeasure. Last night she'd heard him get up twice from
the bed and dose himself with painkillers from his med-kit. His sudden
enthusiasms and penchant for over-doing had gotten him into trouble on
occasion. She scowled so darkly that Ayala, who'd just gotten on the
turbolift, drew back cautiously rather than possibly provoke B'Elanna's
notorious temper.
Finally in Engineering, B'Elanna was able to channel most of her
worries and anger into more productive outlets. She supervised a
complete refit of the internal sensor systems that Lieutenant Commander
Tuvok had suggested "would be beneficial." Several ensigns were
dispatched to further the automation of hydroponics through the
installation of monitors and an extended watering network. By the end
of the shift, B'Elanna was more than satisfied with the amount of work
her people had accomplished, but she was unable to relax.
-It's probably just from knowing we're in hostile territory
again,- B'Elanna told herself as she entered her quarters. -Just for
once it would be nice to find the Delta Quadrant equivalent of Risa.-
Her lips curved at the thought of spending some time on that pleasure
planet, in Tom's company, of course. Of course, what she didn't want
to admit to herself was her fear of Tom's reaction to her morning's
conference with Chakotay.
Those fears seemed justified. A personal message from Tom
awaited her on her personal console. B'Elanna tapped for access then
scrolled through the text. In curt words, Tom informed B'Elanna that
he'd been placed on medical leave for the next thirty-six hours. He
regretted missing their evening's date in Holodeck Two and so on but he
was under orders to be resting, quietly, in his quarters.
B'Elanna could feel the pique in Tom's wording and insinuation.
He blamed her for this mandatory rest and wanted her to know it. She
suppressed the urge to put her fist into the terminal's glassy screen.
After all these years on _Voyager_, she'd developed a number of
channels to control her Klingon impulses. Putting aside a fleeting
regret over the loss of an hour of holographic vacation with Tom in
Tahiti, B'Elanna looted her clothes cupboards for workout gear and
headed for the holodeck. An hour spent battling holographic opponents
proved the perfect antidote to her ill humour. At the end of her
session, her sweaty hair closely molded the lines of her skull and
sweat darkened the utilitarian gray clothes. Dismissing the program,
B'Elanna left the holodeck in search of sleep.
*
The next morning's briefing was notable for Tom's absence. The
holodoc stiffly explained. "Lieutenant Paris's dermal patch seems to
have been the culprit behind an increasing number of headaches and
other minor discomforts. I have modified the patch to create a
variable data flow that will lower the transmission rate during lull
times at the conn. This should reduce or eliminate Lieutenant Paris's
headaches."
Seven of Nine's eyes widened. "Your modifications might hamper
the efficiency of the mechanism! Why did you not clear these
alterations with me?"
Commander Chakotay cleared his throat. "He approached me about
these changes, Seven. I ran the simulations on the new specifications
and found no problem. So _I_ gave the authorization."
Seven opened and closed her mouth twice. Obviously she wanted to
challenge _Voyager_'s first officer but somehow restrained herself.
B'Elanna caught the captain watching the exchange closely. When it was
clear that no further outbursts were forthcoming, Janeway swiftly dealt
with the rest of the day's business.
Dismissed, the officers stood to leave. B'Elanna looked up when
Harry touched her arm. "So, how's Tom?" he asked.
B'Elanna shook her head dismissively. "I wouldn't know, Harry.
He left me a message last night that all but told me to butt out. You
see, I was the one who told Chakotay about his headaches and got him in
trouble."
Harry grinned. "Pouting, is he?"
B'Elanna had to smile at Harry's choice of words. She matched
paces with the tall ensign as they left the room. "Yeah, I guess
that's right. Tom's just thrown himself at high warp into mastering
this new system, like he does with everything he takes up. Commander
Chakotay and the holodoc pulled him up short and, since he can't
grumble at them, I got it all."
"Poor B'Elanna," Harry mocked.
She whirled to face him, startling Harry. "Watch out or I'll
dump it all on you, Starfleet. Care for a little unarmed combat
practice?" She snarled theatrically.
Harry retreated and she snickered. After all these years in the
Delta Quadrant, it was still fun to tease poor Harry.
By the end of her shift, B'Elanna still had a wealth of righteous
indignation seething inside her. Tom, of course, was the target. A
voice inside counselled prudence, but B'Elanna ignored it. According
to the computer, Tom was still in his quarters on medical rest. She
made her way there only to stand in front of the doors. The little
voice shrieked for her attention and B'Elanna almost heeded its
warnings. But then, caution and prudence weren't B'Elanna's favourite
virtues. She activated the doorchime.
"Who is it?" Tom's voice asked.
"Me," she answered shortly.
A moment's pause ended in the doors gliding open. Tom stood in
front of her in his pajamas, hair rumpled. "Go away! You're not
supposed to be here."
B'Elanna's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you have a deathwish,
Paris?"
Tom looked around huntedly, then leaned closer. "It's the doc,
B'Elanna. He's got me sewn up in here with monitors and explicit
orders to remain "alone and secluded" for the duration of this leave.
Says that he's going to make sure that I get the rest I need."
"Oh, really?" An eyebrow arched in surprise, B'Elanna considered
this. "You're not saying this just to get yourself off the hook with
me?"
Tom affected innocence. "Who, me?" But before he could say
more, the disgruntled voice of the EMH sounded through the room's
speakers. "Mr. Paris, what is this? I distinctly ordered that you
rest during your leave, yet I'm reading heightened activity levels on
all bio-monitors!" Tom shrugged his shoulders helplessly and began to
step back from the threshold.
B'Elanna grinned nastily. Stepping back into the hallway she
paged engineering. "Joe, there seems to be a problem with the bio-
monitors on decks three and four. Would you inform the doctor that
we'll be taking them off line for the next, hum, twelve hours, 'til we
can sort out the problem."
She could hear the grin in his voice as Lieutenant Carey
acknowledged her order. "Need any help with this repair job,
Lieutenant?" he asked teasingly.
"No," she replied consideringly, "I think this is a job I can
handle myself." Her widening smile matched Tom's own as she entered
his quarters and his waiting arms.
*
The crews' hopes for a peaceful traverse of Maleelian space ended
half way through Alpha shift. B'Elanna was in Main Engineering,
supervising the manufacture of some new EPS conduit flashing when the
captain's voice barked over the comm system. "Red Alert! Maleelian
fleet sighted on an intercept course." Routine tasks were abandoned as
the engineering team readied for possible battle and the technical
emergencies that always ensued.
A series of small, thundering booms rocked the ship. Arms braced
on either side of the monitor, B'Elanna surveyed the damage reports
that flowed into her main console. "Nicoletti, get a crew in the
Jeffries Tube Six, Deck Four. We've got a coolant leak." Nodded
acknowledgement, the other woman motioned two ensigns to join her with
their toolkits and headed out of the section.
Another round of percussive blasts rocked the ship. Damage
reports were minimal, B'Elanna noted, although shields dropped another
three percent. Determination squaring her jaw, B'Elanna punched in the
sequence to activate shield rotation. "Not _my_ ship, peta'Q!"
Endless minutes later, _Voyager_ roiled under repeated assaults.
Of themselves, they were inconsequential but by B'Elanna's readings, at
least one hundred and sixty small craft battered the Federation
starship with energy beams and torpedoes. Given the large number of
opponents, B'Elanna was amazed they'd managed as well as they had.
Judging by the readouts, Tom's piloting was inspired, evading the most
damaging attacks while steering a course through the swarm of
Maleelians.
The smaller vessels were agile, but lacked heavy weapons and
powerful engines. If _Voyager_ could only winnow its way through the
fleet without suffering a crippling hit, her powerful warp drive would
leave the hostile force behind. B'Elanna frantically directed her crew
to richen the antimatter mixture, hoping an extra boost would speed the
ship to safety.
As the warp engines pulsed to Warp Eight, B'Elanna sagged in
relief. Monitors showed the Maleelian fighters dropping back, unable
to maintain the heady speed of their larger prey. She palmed her
combadge to report the minor damage in engineering to Captain Janeway.
"Torres to Janeway."
Silence met her hail. She was about to try again when the
captain's harried voice responded. "Janeway here."
"Captain, we're . . ." B'Elanna began to report then paused,
"what's the matter?" Through the comchannel, she heard Chakotay's
voice biting out an order for emergency medical transport.
"B'Elanna, I don't know how to say this, but Tom collapsed at the
helm as soon as we went to Warp Eight. Commander Chakotay wasn't
getting any lifesigns."
Before this, B'Elanna had always scoffed at stories where a
character's blood ran cold. But she felt a chill rush through her
torso and limbs. A sharp crack pulled her out of her reverie, and she
looked down at the console's frame to see fragments of plas-metal
piercing her hands where she'd convulsively crushed the structure.
The pain seemed disconnected as B'Elanna stood. But others
noticed the blood flow and hurried to ease their Chief away from the
shattered console. Somebody's uniform smock was used to cradle her
hands and she felt Joe Carey's comforting arm around her shoulder,
directing her through the main doors and to the turbolift.
All the way to sickbay, B'Elanna fought the numbing cold that
gripped her. Shock and fear battled with a consuming Klingon urge to
smash and batter something, anything. Sickbay's door opened to reveal
the EMH bent over Tom's form on the main biobed. "Get me the
respiratory stimulator," he demanded. A pale Jenny Delaney offered an
instrument to the doctor while Harry Kim resumed an explanation the
doctor's orders had interrupted.
"Tom was piloting like a wizard. Some of it had to have been the
VISOR system. I mean, he's good and all, but there were more than a
hundred ships out there after us. He was knifing through them like
they were nothing. Then when he'd finally worked his way through the
fleet and the captain ordered him to warp eight, he just sorta folded
over the console. Commander Chakotay was there in an instant, but said
he wasn't getting any lifesigns. Commander Tuvok said that the primary
controls were not responding and shifted over to secondary systems. A
jolt seemed to flow through Tom's body, then, but we weren't getting a
pulse or any breathing. So we initiated an emergency medical
transport." Harry eyed the EMH anxiously.
"And barely in time, I might add, Mr. Kim," the doctor declaimed
as he injected Tom with a hypospray. "I have been able to restore Mr.
Paris's autonomous systems. He is now breathing and his heart is
circulating blood. There should be no permanent damage. . . ." The
holograph's voice trailed off as he stared disbelievingly at one
monitor.
"Ten ccs of neuradol," the EMH demanded of the medical
replicator. A full hypospray materialized in front of him and he
swiftly injected Tom with its contents. A frown darkened the doctor's
image as he brought a small instrument to bear on the side of Tom's
neck.
"What's the matter?" Harry Kim asked anxiously.
The holodoc's expression darkened. "I'm not sure, but I'm not
getting any significant brain activity from Mr. Paris. Certainly
nothing congruent with his normal waking or sleeping state."
B'Elanna broke her dazed silence at the door. "What are you
saying, doctor?"
The EMH turned swiftly, eyeing the injured Chief with some
sympathy. "Mr. Paris appears to be in a coma, one where his brain
functions have shut down so far as to elude all detection." Within a
moment the holodoc was at B'Elanna's side, removing the bloodstained
smock and eying her puncture wounds with disapproval.
"However did you get these, Lieutenant?" he asked, leading her
towards a second biobed.
"Crushed a console frame in engineering," Joe Carey supplied
helpfully as B'Elanna stared across the two metres of space at Tom's
unresponsive form. The junior lieutenant then excused himself to
return to engineering.
"Klingons!" the EMH harrumphed. "Ensign Delaney, consider this
an excellent practicum for your medical skills."
B'Elanna hardly noticed the other woman carefully extracting
plas-metal fragments from the wounds and regenerating her wounds. Her
eyes remained fixed on Tom, as did Harry's.
"There, that's it," Jenny Delaney remarked. The ebullient
cartographer's voice was subdued as she, too, kept glancing over to the
main biobed where the EMH had activated the bed's main treatment
functions.
Without glancing over his shoulder, the holographic doctor seemed
aware of their scrutiny. "Mr. Paris will not improve simply by wishing
it so. It will require skilled medical treatment which only _I_ am
capable of providing on this benighted ship. Ensign Delaney, I will
require a complete series of neural diagnostics routed to the main
biobed's consoles. Try to keep the equipment out of Lieutenant
Torres's hands," he advised sardonically, all the while focused on
Tom's care.
B'Elanna inadvertently clenched one of her newly healed hands and
let her breath out in a hiss at the touch of pain that lingered while
the deep tissue wounds slowly regenerated. The doctor's unstated
dismissal rankled, but at this point, while he was starting procedures,
there was little she could do. She looked up to see Harry's drawn face
peering at her own. Gingerly accepting her friend's pro-offered hand,
B'Elanna jumped down from the biobed and exited sickbay.
"Don't worry, B'Elanna, Tom's going to make it," Harry promised
as they headed for the turbolift.
B'Elanna looked up warily. "What? Oh yeah, Harry, I have faith
in the doctor. But healing isn't always a matter of "skilled medical
treatment." She glanced back as the corridor's turn hid sickbay's
broad doorway. "If Tom doesn't snap out of it soon, I'm going to
reprogram that EMH so that he's six inches high and squeaks!"
B'Elanna's brave words hid her apprehension.
As the turbolift loomed in front of them, B'Elanna's combadge
chirruped. "Janeway to Torres," the captain's voice paged.
"Torres here," the engineer acknowledged.
"Lieutenant! I heard that you were in sickbay. I hope it wasn't
anything serious?"
B'Elanna regarded her hands, flexing them carefully. No twinges
of pain resulted. The healing seemed complete. "Nothing serious,
captain. Just some cuts. They're all healed now."
"Good," came the relieved response. "It's bad enough with Tom in
there. The doctor's given me a preliminary report on his condition and
it sounds worrisome."
B'Elanna frowned. Harry jumped in at her lingering silence. "We
left sickbay just a few minutes ago, captain. The doctor was starting
some more detailed tests. I'm sure he'll have Tom back on his feet
soon."
"That would be appreciated! But right now it's my Chief Engineer
I'm needing. It looks like we sustained more serious damage from the
Maleelian fighters than at first glance, Lieutenant. We've had to
disconnect primary navigational computers and are currently running on
the secondary system. I've also been getting reports of computer
related problems across the ship. Both holodecks are offline.
Apparently all programs just collapsed when the systems were affected.
We're only halfway through the Maleelians' territory and I want this
problem solved before it worsens. Understood, Lieutenant?"
B'Elanna nodded sharply. "Understood, captain." She steeled
herself with a sigh. "See you later, Harry!" As she strode into the
turbolift, she saw the dark-haired ensign step back, waiting his ride
to the bridge. "Deck fifteen," she directed, as she sped away from
sickbay and Tom.
*
Entering from the dim corridors that distinguished the gamma
shift, B'Elanna collapsed bonelessly upon her unmade bed. She'd shed
her uniform carelessly in the anteroom, too tired to rummage through
her drawers in search of a nightgown. Not that she'd ever been a great
fan of satiny fripperies. Life in the Maquis discouraged that. But
with Tom she'd had a willing and worthwhile audience for the few silky
garments that filled the corner of one of her storage units.
The very thought of Tom served to recall the fears and
frustrations of the past three days. Nothing had worked so far. The
EMH's careful medical procedures proved fruitless. Harry sought to
help, running reconstructions of Tom's collapse on the bridge in an
effort to pinpoint the cause of his deepening coma. It chilled her to
see his lanky, active form so still and silent on the biobed, yet
B'Elanna had visited Tom almost hourly. Coming off duty spent trying
to control the problems still plaguing _Voyager_'s holodecks and
primary computers, she'd returned to sickbay to helplessly sit beside
the man she loved. The doctor surprised her with his quiet acceptance,
working around her to monitor Tom's condition and only breaking silence
to explain the purpose of his latest procedure. Motherly Sam Wildman
brought a tray of food. B'Elanna was inclined to reject the offering,
but acquiesced. No use fighting over little things when Tom's life
hung in the balance. She must have been hungry. In the end, she
devoured two bowls of clear, flavourful soup, a nutty bread roll and
some sweet, tangy fruit that Neelix had wrangled out of friendly
farmers on Pelicos Minor. All the time her eyes remained firmly fixed
on Tom's quiet features. Only the doctor's direction had been able to
chide her from Tom's side at 0200 hours.
Knowing that her next shift began in a few hours, B'Elanna
realized she should sleep, but she couldn't. Instinctively, she turned
to the side of the bed where Tom should have been, but all she saw were
stale, rumpled sheets. Resolutely closing her eyes, she sought that
inner core of concentration that had always served her well as an
engineer. Commanding her body to rest, she tuned her senses to the
comforting pulse of the warp engines. The subliminal rhythms that she
felt more than heard seemed strangely out of synch. She rubbed her
brow ridges in disgust. Was emotion hampering her basic abilities, she
wondered?
No. The engines were different. B'Elanna opened her eyes and
raised herself up on her elbows. "Computer, route an audio monitoring
of warp engines to my quarters."
"Insufficient parameters. Please specify."
"Damn," B'Elanna spat, then sat up properly on the rumpled bed.
"Route an audio-only channel registering the audible byproducts of the
warp engines from Main Engineering's monitors."
"Routing," the computer tonelessly confirmed, then a sprightly
beep preceded a basso thrumming. B'Elanna cocked her head to the left,
eyes narrowed in concentration. "Filter out all data in the upper
third of human-normal auditory range. Increase lower range by one
third." The rhythm pounded clearly. "Now playback audio components of
the engine room monitoring records, predating the installation of the
nav interface, same filter." The rhythm changed, restored to the
cadence she knew as Voyager's particular signature. "Now current
channel," B'Elanna barked. The sounds changed subtly, assuming a
distinctive dissonant rush that clashed with the customary measure of
Voyager's warp drive. Both were sounds B'Elanna knew deep in her soul.
The engines of Voyager she'd come to know intimately during her tenure
as Chief Engineer. But the other sound was one she'd only learned
during the past few months. It was the sound of Tom's heartbeat.
Adrenaline flooded her system and B'Elanna fought an instinctive,
Klingon impulse to spend it in immediate violence. All she had was a
wild surmise. She need more than that if she was to convince the
Captain and her fellow officers of what she'd just discovered.
"Lights," she demanded as she sprang from the bed and quickly
donned a crumpled crimson jumpsuit that lay at the foot of her bed.
She was out the doors of her quarters before she realized she was still
barefoot. But the doors of the turbolift were just ahead. B'Elanna
jogged to them soundlessly, determined to test her crazy supposition
before she lost her nerve. Within minutes she was at the holodeck.
Getting past the lockouts was a moment's work. She entered to a
dizzying melange of images. With an effort, she sorted them out. The
pool table from Sandrine's, a beach chair from the resort, a dozen
other strange items set against a familiar scene of country farmland,
lit orange and gold by the setting sun. Skirting several amorphous
shapes, she entered the barn. Here, the holo-environment seemed more
stable and secure. She mounted the ladder to the hayloft and knelt
uncertainly on the blanket where she and Tom had lingered just a few
days before.
B'Elanna swallowed, then without giving way to further doubts,
addressed the computer. "Computer, transfer control of the holomatrix
to the primary navigational computer. Authorization Torres Omicron
Delta Three."
"Beginning transfer," the computer notified B'Elanna.
She waited in the darkened area, desperately unsure and yet
hopeful. If she was wrong, the undirected holomatrix could manifest
itself into incoherent waves of energy and projected matter. If she
was right. . . . Slowly, as her ears adjusted, the same steady beat
that had underlain the engine's hum manifested itself on the holodeck.
"Tom?" she whispered.
The beat continued, then slowly accelerated.
"Tom?" she repeated, a desperate, demanding edge sharpening her
voice.
*B'Elanna,* came a whispering voice out of the swirling darkness.
Beneath her knees, she felt the blanket and straw ebb into
unsteadiness. The dim walls of the loft shimmered opalescently.
"Tom, it's me! I'm here," she shouted as she clutched the
dissipating cloth. In front of her, the shimmers and flows coalesced
into a shadowy column.
*B'Elanna,* the whisper repeated. A section of the column in
front of her swung in her direction, grazing her cheek with an electric
shock.
"Ow, damnit," she blurted before realization dawned. "Tom? Is
that you?"
A ghostly chuckle sounded louder. Generated by the holoemitters,
it nevertheless seemed to emanate from the column before her, that
slowly, shiftingly took a humanoid shape. *B'Elanna, where are we? Is
this a dream?*
B'Elanna choked out a laugh that hovered between relief and
outrage. "Tom, you've been in a coma for three days! The doctor's
keeping your body alive in sickbay but you've been unreachable!"
*I have?* the voice queried incredulously. Beneath her knees the
holomatrix shifted erratically and B'Elanna clutched at Tom's projected
figure. Seeming solid beneath her fingers, the projection nevertheless
lacked the warmth and firm definition of a living body. But it was
clearly Tom, she thought, as a holographic arm encircled her, stroking
her hair.
*Wait a minute,* Tom's ghostly voice asked, *if I'm in a coma, in
sickbay, where the hell is this? Dreamland?*
"Sort of. You see, when you collapsed on the bridge, lots of
systems went into a cascading failure. The captain and the commander
assumed they resulted from damage we took fighting off the Maleelians.
But the trouble's persisted, and it's concentrated in our secondary
computer systems, you know, communications, holodecks, deep memory
systems. We've been cutting off and isolating these systems to try and
effect repairs without much success. And while each system was being
removed and repaired, you were getting worse and worse. . . ."
B'Elanna's voice trailed off.
*So?* Tom prompted.
"So, lying in bed tonight I listened to the sound of the engines.
They'd been bothering me the last few days. Even though they hadn't
taken any damage in the attack and escape, they didn't sound right.
Then, listening more closely, I realized what I was hearing." She
looked up at the shadowy face above her. "It was your heartbeat, Tom.
I realized that your mind, your memory, your consciousness was still
tapped in through the navigational interface. You were the glitches in
our systems we were tracing down and eliminating, all the while not
knowing that with each repair we were pushing you further and further
away from recovery!"
B'Elanna's hold on his shoulders tightened. "I knew I was right
so I had to be sure. I came here to the holodeck, where the problems
have been the worst and I invoked the navigational computer. What I
got was you!"
She felt the projection's hand sweep soothingly from her hair to
the small of her back in repeated strokes. *Well, B'Elanna, I'm a
little overwhelmed! The last thing I remember was flying Voyager
through that swarm of Maleelian fighters. It took all my effort to
outmaneuver them! Then nothing, really, until now.*
B'Elanna loosened her grip to encircle the holographic projection
loosely around its waist. If she kept her eyes closed and ignored the
slightly hollow tones of the voice she could convince herself it was
really Tom she embraced. The longer they stood there on the holodeck,
the greater control Tom seemed to achieve over the projection.
Urgently, she looked up. Colour flooded the face she remembered
so well. Tom's projection was almost flawless, but it wasn't the real
thing. "Tom, now that you're aware, you should be able to reintegrate
your consciousness with your body!"
A perplexed expression crossed Tom's face. *Sure, but how?*
B'Elanna growled angrily. "I don't know how! I don't even know
how you're manifesting this projection on the holodeck! Why not just
try?"
Tom frowned in consideration. *Well,* he confessed sheepishly,
*I'm not exactly sure how I'm doing this either. It's more instinct
than anything else.* But his frown deepened and the projection began
to soften and fade. B'Elanna felt her footing begin to degrade and
wondered how far it was to the real holodeck floor.
After long minutes of silence, Tom's voice returned. *Sorry,
B'Elanna, but it doesn't seem to work. It feels as if I'm blocked when
I start thinking about my real body.* Tom's holographic self resumed
its former lifelike look, and sat down heavily upon an amorphous mass
that once had been a holographic hay bale.
B'Elanna ground her teeth in frustration as she sat down beside
him. "There's got to be a reason," she insisted. Absently she leaned
into Tom's familiar hug as her mind raced to tackle the dilemma
surrounding Tom's inexplicable situation. She nibbled at her lower lip
as she pondered the possibilities.
*Hey, don't do that!*
She glanced up, startled, to see the projection eyeing her
hungrily.
"Do what?" she asked warily.
*You know,* Tom's ghostly voiced complained, *that lip thing.*
Despite the serious situation, B'Elanna smiled. "You know, if
I'd had any suspicions that this was some alien trick or technological
device, that would've ended them." She giggled slightly at the
absurdity of the whole scenario.
*Why's that?* Tom's holographic self questioned, its eyes never
leaving her face.
"Because that remark is so _you_, Tom Paris," B'Elanna chided.
"Look, Tom, we've got to tell the captain and the doctor about this.
They'll need to know that you're not in a coma, just. . . ." She
struggled for a word.
*Discorporate? Ethereal? Phantasmagoric?*
B'Elanna's surprised expression won a laugh from Tom, weak though
it was.
*Don't forget, Torres, hooked into the computers as I seem to be,
I have access to all the dictionaries in the Federation! Hey, now
there's an idea,* his ghostly voice mused, *maybe I'll just take a peek
at your personal logs while I'm at it. . . .*
B'Elanna growled warningly as she strode to the main doors.
Light flooded the holodeck as the doors automatically opened at her
approach, making Tom's projected form appear even more insubstantial.
"Don't you even dare, Paris," she warned, then used the comm panel
outside the holodeck to page the captain and the EMH.
Within minutes, a yawning Kathryn Janeway and a bemused
holodoctor stood in front of Tom's projected form. With an expression
B'Elanna might almost call affront, the EMH's gaze raced up and down
Tom's form. "Mr. Paris," he crisply rapped, "if you so desperately
wanted to emulate me, I would suggest doing something else than trying
to remake yourself as a hologram!" Captain Janeway smiled briefly at
the doctor's barb, then her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Tom, this puts a whole new spin on things. You say that you
think you're still interfaced with the computers somehow?" Head cocked
to the left and arms crossed, the captain appeared to be sorting out
the mechanics of Tom's situation.
*Yes, captain,* came the reply, Tom's voice as generated by the
holoemitters. *If I think about it, it still feels like I'm getting
some of the sensations of the VISOR interface, but I can't do anything
with it.* His holographic shoulders hunched in frustration. Two steps
to his side, B'Elanna struggled to maintain as professional a composure
as she could muster, barefoot and out of uniform.
Tom continued, *I, we, also tried to return my consciousness to
my body, but we weren't able to manage that, either.* A faint tinge of
fear coloured his words. *I don't know, do you think I'm going to be
like this forever?* A sweep of his hands indicated the confines of the
holodeck.
Captain Janeway shook her head then smiled warmly. "Not a
chance, Tom. Now that we know this much, we'll soon be able to solve
the rest. Doctor? Any ideas?" Pivoting to face the EMH, the captain
stood expectantly.
The holodoctor appeared to ponder the captain's request. After a
moment, his mobile face brightened. "Why yes, captain, I believe that
I do!" He raised the medical tricorder in his hand so that B'Elanna
and the captain could see the screen.
"Mr. Paris apparently entered our computer system through the
VISOR navigational interface. However, immediately upon his collapse,
the VISOR and the dermal patch were removed. Thus, his mind, if you
will, had no way to return home to the body. There remains only a
trace of a link between his two selves, just enough to keep him alive,
I suspect."
During the doctor's discourse, an excited smile transformed the
captain's face. "Then all we have to do is initiate a VISOR linkage
between Tom here and the holodeck and his body in sickbay."
"Well," cautioned the holodoctor, "I expect that there will be
more to it than that, but I should be able to manage this. I'll need
Lieutenant Torres to help with the mechanical elements of the
transfer."
B'Elanna nodded her eager agreement.
*What do I do?* Tom asked.
The EMH turned towards his ghostly assistant and, with a sardonic
smile decorating his face, replied, "Why, Mr. Paris, I suggest that you
wait until we have the equipment ready and then click your heels
together and say, "There's no place like home! There's no place like
home!""
Tom's reply, whatever it might have been, was lost in the sudden
howl of the red alert siren. Instantly, the captain was dashing out of
the holodeck and towards the turbolift. "Commander Tuvok, status
report!"
B'Elanna uneasily looked towards the still open doors, then back
again to Tom and the doctor. Tom caught her eyes. *Go,* he urged.
*They're going to need you in engineering.*
She started to deny this, then nodded reluctantly. "You're
right," she acknowledged sadly. "Keep safe?" She leaned up to accept
a chaste kiss, then turned for the exit.
As she entered the hall, she heard the doctor's harrumph.
B'Elanna's hurried to the turbolift. "Deck fifteen," she ordered, as
she also thanked providence that she had a spare uniform in her
engineering office. Maybe, if she was lucky, there would even be a
pair of boots in her storage locker!
*
Main Engineering was a scene of controlled chaos when B'Elanna
entered. Assuring herself that all were preparing well for what boded
to be another fierce fire-fight, she ducked into her office and swiftly
donned her uniform clothes. Punching up information on the main
terminal there, her confidence dimmed at the sensor logs' readings.
Almost twice as many ships, some larger frigates as well, stretched out
in formation designed to encircle _Voyager_. Frowning in
concentration, she answered the captain's hail.
"Torres here."
"Lieutenant, it looks like we're going to have to try and make a
run for it again. Commander Chakotay tells me, though, that we need
primary navigational controls restored."
"That's right, captain," B'Elanna responded. "Those are some of
the systems Tom's still linked with."
"Damn! I'd hoped that with the holodeck as an environment, we'd
be able to pull him out of the navigational systems. We're going to
need the main navigational computers to help us negotiate our way past
the Maleelians."
Desperately, B'Elanna called up schematics of the device. "I'm
sorry, captain, but the navigational computer appears to be the main
conduit for Tom's computer connection. I can't predict what would
happen if we tried to pull it out of the linkage. At best, he'd be
safe in the holodeck environment, but at worst we might find ourselves
without any functioning flight system and with Tom dead." Her voice
choked slightly on the final words. She hoped that the captain would
understand that professional judgment, as much as personal attachment,
lay behind her cautious assessment.
The officious voice of the holodoctor broke in. "I think you
ought to know, captain, that my patient has been listening in on these
recent events, thanks to his currently altered state, and has a
suggestion to make. One which I heartily disapprove, mind you, but he
insists."
Over the com-system, Tom's voice ironically sounded more natural.
"Captain, I think that maybe I can get us out of this mess."
B'Elanna heard the snap in the captain's response. "Go ahead,
Mr. Paris, I'm all ears."
"Captain, through my current computer linkage, I can see the
entire tactical and navigational records. In some sense, Voyager and I
are one. If you'd release the lockouts on the navigational system, I
think I could control the ship from within the computers."
Commander Chakotay questioned, "Tom, you physically collapsed at
the end of the last engagement. What makes you think that you'll be
able to handle this?"
A chuckle coloured Tom's response. "Well, I'm already inside the
computers, so I shouldn't have a problem with that now. And frankly,
now that I'm exploring this new viewpoint, I think that I'll be able to
pilot the ship much better than ever before. I only have to think
something and it happens, at least in the holographic environment. If
I had navigational controls again, I'll probably be able to get past
that fleet that's massing against us and bring the ship free of
Maleelian space."
"Sounds good, Tom, but what's the catch? Doctor?"
"The catch is, commander, that Mr. Paris's lifesigns are slowly
degrading the more involved he becomes in the computer environment. I
believe the prolonged activity in this linkage might sever the last
links between the Lieutenant's body and his consciousness."
The captain's worried voice broke in. "That sounds too
dangerous, Tom."
"Dangerous, captain, but it looks like our only hope! The
secondary navigational systems just aren't up to this kind of flight
patterning, even if the Commander was at the conn. The doc and I have
talked about the risks and I'm willing to take them."
"B'Elanna," Janeway pleaded, "tell me you've found a way to
restore the primary systems without risking Tom this way."
Defeatedly, B'Elanna stared at the terminal. "I'm sorry,
captain, I just can't see a way to do it. Maybe if I had a couple of
hours. . . ."
"That fleet is less than ten minutes away, captain!" Tom
interrupted. "You've got to let me help!"
"Okay, Mr. Paris," the captain finally conceded, "but I expect
the doctor to be monitoring your physical status all the way. If he
sees a danger, we'll cut you out of the conn and let Commander Chakotay
fly us out of here. Understood?"
Tom's confident reply failed to hearten B'Elanna. She set up the
protocols to re-establish primary navigational controls, and forwarded
the information to the bridge. She activated the systems upon Harry
Kim's approval and began the interminable wait.
At first, there was no clear sign that Tom's suggestion was
working. The doctor returned to sickbay, to begin a continual
monitoring of Tom's lifesigns. Commander Chakotay was the first to
notice any change, as the helm controls gradually failed to respond to
his directives.
"Tom Paris, that'd better be you!" the captain warned as she eyed
the flotilla her ship was steadily approaching.
Instead of a verbal response, Tom signalled his control by
running a text message across the conn's display that Chakotay read
off. "Tom Paris, ready and reporting for duty," the first officer
relayed.
"Good," Janeway said, grasping the arms of her command chair.
"Tom, I want you to try and effect evasive maneuvers. Maybe we can
outflank this fleet." The starship's engines purred as _Voyager_
veered off course by several degrees. From the security station, Tuvok
shook his head. "Negative, captain. The Maleelians have enough ships
to keep us boxed within this region. They are still ignoring all our
hails and have begun to power up their weapons."
"All right, then, we'll have to make a run for it. Tom, try to
thread through that group of small fighters. Let's see if we can avoid
the larger ships and punch our way through a weak part of the Maleelian
net."
Obediently, _Voyager_ surged forward. The alien ships grew
larger in the viewscreen as distance closed. From her relay in
Engineering, B'Elanna's eyes switched warily between engine readouts
and the display. Small the fighters might be, but each was armed with
two energy weapons and she judged that the lower projections might hold
some sort of plasma weapon or other torpedo.
The smooth, static appearance of the flotilla changed as
_Voyager_ closed with the enemy. The silent ships began to dart and
move, seeking to hamper the larger starship's escape at higher
warpspeeds. A piercing scream sounded through engineering as the port
nacelle took a hit. B'Elanna dashed over to a larger console, punched
some keys and shouted, "the main field compensator took a hit on that
side. Switch to auxiliary!"
At the nacelle panel, Ensign Vorik obediently tapped in the
commands. A frown creased his high brow. "It's not responding,
Lieutenant," he reported.
"Damn," B'Elanna growled in frustration. "We're going to be
sitting ducks if we don't get that fixed soon." With a longing glance
back at the main console, still monitoring the main screens, B'Elanna
grabbed some tools and headed for the access panel. "Ensign, you're
with me," she ordered. Vorik obediently followed.
Inside the tube, the engineers made the arduous climb to the
halfway point of the nacelle's support. A scorchmark signalled the
damage. B'Elanna directed Vorik to disconnect the main connectors
while she brought the secondary system online. Once manually prodded,
the device fired up and a pulsing hum reassured B'Elanna. A sudden
lurch made her cling to the ladder. "Back to Engineering," she
directed Vorik, who clasped the ladder rungs below her with an entirely
un-Vulcan desperation. He quickly complied and within minutes they
were back in the engine room.
B'Elanna hadn't closed the access panel behind her before she
felt the ship flow smoothly and strongly into high warp.
Unconsciously, she relaxed. Tom had succeeded. _Voyager_ had run the
gauntlet and was safely away from the Maleelian threat.
"Janeway to Torres. Report"
B'Elanna answered the captain's call. "Torres here. Damage
reports are minimal." As she spoke, she strode to a nearby terminal
and scrolled through the data. "The worst damage was to the port
nacelle, but that's been repaired. We also sustained minor damage to
the main deflector. We should have that repaired in half an hour."
"Good work, Lieutenant!" The captain's warmly approving voice
subtly changed tone. "Then I want you to go to holodeck. Commander
Chakotay and Seven are already on the way. Top priority is to get Tom
back on his feet and my navigational systems back to normal."
"Aye, captain," B'Elanna fervently agreed. Her wide grin as she
exited engineering was remarked by all. That grin faded as she entered
the holodeck. Pale wisps of energy limply shifted in the room.
Chakotay frowned grimly as his tricorder swept the room. Seven stood
in the entrance arch, also taking readings. "What's the matter?"
B'Elanna asked.
Chakotay turned abruptly. "Energy readings are almost nil and
we've not been able to reestablish audio contact with Tom. The captain
said he was quite visible when she was here earlier, but I'm not
picking up anything."
Seven nodded emphatically. "Perhaps the recent efforts have
dispersed his pattern more widely in the computer network. I'm reading
no significant flow of energies through the channel you previously
opened."
B'Elanna's heart sank at their words. She stepped forward to
examine the readings on Chakotay's instrument. As B'Elanna read the
data, Seven again spoke. "We should explore all possibilities. He
might already have managed to restore his mind to his corporeal self.
Perhaps we should contact the doctor?"
"Good idea," the first officer concurred. He hailed the EMH.
"I'm sorry, commander," the holographic physician apologized,
"but I've detected no improvement in Mr. Paris's condition."
Thanking the doctor, _Voyager_'s first officer suggested that
they retire to the Astrometrics lab. "That's where we still have most
of the equipment and monitors used for the prototypes and the final
interface. Seven, I'd like you and Lieutenant Torres to review all the
energy flows that might result from those systems. Maybe there's
something we haven't caught yet."
B'Elanna frowned minutely, unhappy that Chakotay planned to leave
her alone with the former Borg, but recognizing that the first officer
probably had other calls on his time. "All right, commander," she
acknowledged. Seven merely inclined her head in a stately nod. The
two women exited the holodeck for Seven's scientific domain.
The taller woman preceded B'Elanna into the main room. "All
materials and records from the interface upgrade are stored in this
workstation," Seven indicated. "I will begin by examining the data.
As an engineer, you will obviously have a greater interest in the
hardware." A sweep of her hand pointed out the shelf holding several a
VISOR and a variety of smaller implements.
Steeling herself not to snap abruptly at the other woman's
assumption of command, B'Elanna picked up one of the smaller devices.
She recognized it as a dermal patch. The spidery black mechanism
integrated with the silvery Starfleet material sent a shiver through
her. "What's this?" she demanded of Seven.
The blonde leaned over B'Elanna's shoulder to examine the patch.
"That is an adaptation of a Borg sensor relay, built into a Starfleet
medical dermal patch. It was an unsuccessful prototype and never
used."
B'Elanna snorted angrily, "well, which ones were used?" Seven
picked up several and laid them out on the dark surface of the table.
"These three were all used by Lieutenant Paris. This last one," she
delicately fingered the device at the far right, "is an identical copy
of the one he wore last."
The dark-haired engineer tuned out the rest of the ex-Borg's
words as she picked it up. Carefully rotating it in her grasp, she
looked for clues, but found none in the sleek lines of the patch.
Turning to the other woman, B'Elanna asked, "What's different about
this patch compared to the others, here?"
"As I already said, Lieutenant, this patch was the final version
approved by Commander Chakotay and the doctor. Its major difference is
the variable data flow rate they introduced to counteract the headaches
Lieutenant Paris had been experiencing." Seven's brisk response
indicated a great deal of indignation in having to repeat herself.
B'Elanna ignored the other woman's irritation. A thought was
forming. "If the flow rate is variable, that means it could increase
as well as decrease, doesn't it?"
"Of course it does, Lieutenant. Otherwise, when more information
needed to be transferred, the interface would have been unable to cope
with the change in situation!"
Excitedly, B'Elanna broke in, running over Seven's last words.
"But is there a regulator, a cap on the data flow?" Seven's eyes
widened as she began to follow the smaller woman's train of thought.
"No. This patch is based upon Borg models and that would have
been counterproductive in the Collective. All data was to be fully
integrated into the collective, and our systems were maximized for
complete transfer of data in emergencies, such as death or injury."
B'Elanna leaned against the counter, her mind racing. "What do
you mean, a complete transfer?"
"In the event of death, all the memories and skills of a drone
could be passed into the Collective through such devices integrated
into our bodies."
"Then this patch might operate exactly as a Borg system. If
there was no cap upon the data flow, Tom's consciousness, his memories
and skills, was pulled through the interface into _Voyager_'s computer
system, just like a Borg's into the Collective. Perhaps if we recreate
the parameters from Tom's accident, but with a reverse data flow, Tom
might be able to re-link with his body."
"An interesting hypothesis," Seven responded. "But it is not yet
certain. We have many more possibilities to eliminate before we can be
sure of the solution." She made as if to bend back over the array of
materials and information.
B'Elanna wrenched away. "Well, I'm going to check it out!" She
exited the lab, walking with fierce strides to the turbolift.
In sickbay, the doctor looked up gravely from Tom's biobed. "If
you've come to ask about Mr. Paris, lieutenant, I'm afraid I don't have
much good news."
"Why? What's wrong with Tom?" B'Elanna asked, coming to stand
beside her lover's still form. She noticed that his skin had taken on
an unhealthy, pallid tone. When she picked up his hand with one of her
own, she was shocked at the chill feel of his flesh.
"Mr. Paris seems to be sinking deeper into his coma. His body is
now being kept alive only by my medical equipment. If the systems here
were shut down, he would not breathe for himself. I'm afraid if you
don't manage to realign his consciousness and his body, Mr. Paris will
soon die." His eyebrows knit together in a puzzled frown, the doctor
continued to adjust monitors and devices, but his frustrated words told
B'Elanna that the holographic physician sincerely doubted Tom's chances
for survival.
She looked down at the small device in her hand. "Doctor, is Tom
wearing the same dermal patch now as he wore before his collapse?"
The EMH tilted his head, regarding B'Elanna with a curious frown.
"I don't believe so, lieutenant. Commander Chakotay presumably removed
the patch before initiated site-to-site transport. Mr. Paris was not
wearing the patch when he came into my sickbay."
"After our discussion in the holodeck, you came back here to
sickbay to put a new dermal patch and VISOR on his unconscious body,
didn't you?"
"Yes, I did," the doctor confirmed, snorting. "For all the good
it did. There was a slight rise in the lieutenant's brain activity,
but at no time did he achieve full consciousness."
B'Elanna grasped at a slim hope, looking down at the equipment in
her hand. "Maybe you put on one of the older patches? One of the ones
with the cap on the data flow?"
"What difference would that make? Mr. Paris is hardly in the
condition to complain of head. . . . I see," the holograph eagerly
turned to his prone patient, activating his medical scanner, "you're
right, Lieutenant Torres, this is one of the earlier versions of the
patch."
She proffered hers and the doctor slipped it on Tom's neck,
beside the first, then deactivated the older device. B'Elanna ordered
the ship's computers to reopen channels between the VISOR and the main
navigational computers. Quietly they waited. "I'm detected a slight
change in brain activity, lieutenant," the doctor informed B'Elanna.
His elated eyes caught hers. "I think we've done it!"
"That's it?" B'Elanna asked incredulously. Her hands clutched
the edge of the bed, holding her exhausted body up by main force.
"Hardly," the doctor corrected, yet his pleasure shone through
his irascible fa�ade. "Mr. Paris appears to be on the road to
recovery. But until he actually regains consciousness, we won't be
sure. And I'm afraid that I can't predict when he'll awaken. It could
be minutes, hours or even days."
B'Elanna reached again for Tom's limp hand. Cradling it between
her two warm palms, she thought she detected more warmth in his limbs.
Her eyes never leaving Tom's still features, B'Elanna perched
unsteadily on the biobed. "I'll wait," she informed the doctor.
"Wonderful," the EMH sniped sarcastically, as he cleaned up his
scanners and instruments that littered the nearby cart. "While you
clutter up my sickbay, I'll go inform the doctor that once again, I've
brought a patient back from the brink of death." Luckily for the
holographic doctor, B'Elanna never registered a single word he said.
After he'd swept off, pushing the cart before him, B'Elanna leant
closer to her lover. "Tom," she whispered, "I'm here."
There was no response, not that she expected it so soon. But the
sight of the sheet over his chest rising and falling in a steadily
strengthening rhythm heartened her.
The hours dragged on and B'Elanna was finally persuaded to leave
sickbay for enough time to shower, change and review the engineering
reports. She noted that _Voyager_ had exited Maleelian space three
hours ago, with nothing more than a sense of relief. Within an hour,
she was back at Tom's bedside, wolfing down, untasted, the special meal
that Neelix had brought himself. The bustling Talaxian tried to engage
her in conversation, but B'Elanna's eyes rarely lifted from her
inspection of Tom's figure. Colour had returned to his face, a rosy
flush tinting his cheekbones. The doctor wheeled away more apparatus,
informing her happily that Tom was now breathing on his own.
She was nodding, almost on the verge of sleep, when a slight
squeeze startled her eyes wide. She looked down at the hand held in
her own. Tom's fingers flexed slowly, deliberately around her smaller
fingers. Fearfully, hopefully, B'Elanna's gaze turned to Tom's face.
His eyes, half-open, rested on her. A weary smile greeted her. "Hey,
beautiful, what's a babe like you doing in a place like this?" The
voice was gravelly with disuse and weak, but it was unmistakably Paris.
She couldn't help the answering grin that transformed her face.
"Tom Paris, you utter pig!" B'Elanna growled lovingly, leaning over to
steal a brief kiss. Tom's eyes closed for a moment as her lips met his
own, then opened to focus on his lover's face.
"Tell me that this isn't just another dream or fantasy," Tom
pled. B'Elanna laughed and squeezed his hand in reassurance.
"Not a dream, not a holodeck. You're back in the land of the
living, Tom," she averred.
Alerted by his monitors to Tom's awakening, the holodoctor
appeared beside the couple. "You most certainly are, Mr. Paris.
Thanks as much to Lieutenant Torres's fine command of engineering as my
own medical expertise." As he spoke, he ran a scanner over Tom's form.
Nodding at the readings, the EMH flipped the instrument closed and lay
it on a nearby shelf. "But you will not make a rapid recovery if you
don't allow me to run a full medical scan! As for you, Lieutenant
Torres, I expect you to be back in your quarters and asleep before I
complete my report to Captain Janeway."
B'Elanna looked ready to argue the point but looking down at
Tom's quiet figure, she relented. For all his quick jokes, he was
still a man just back from the edge of oblivion. She lifted his
fingers to her mouth for a quick kiss, then slid off the biobed. "He's
all yours, doctor," she said as she backed away from the alcove.
"You have no idea what that means to me," the doctor murmured
sarcastically as he wheeled a larger scanning unit over to Tom's
bedside. As B'Elanna exited through the sickbay doors, she heard him
addressing his patient. "Now lay back quietly, Mr. Paris, this won't
hurt a bit. . . ."
B'Elanna was tired enough that, when she reached her quarters,
she almost fell asleep on the sofa. But she determinedly made her way
into the sleeping alcove. As she sat on the side of the bed, shedding
her uniform, B'Elanna programmed her computer to alert her to any major
changes in Tom's condition or to awaken her if any messages were logged
on her personal account. From the slow response of her body to her
mind, B'Elanna estimated that she'd sleep for a week, if she could, but
she didn't want to miss a moment of Tom's recovery.
*
Two days later, B'Elanna was almost kicking herself over that
sentiment. Tom was proving himself to be a most difficult patient.
The doctor released him from sickbay eight hours after he first
regained consciousness, vowing that the pilot had to be the most
ungrateful recipient of his medical talents. Tom protested that, by
all he understood, he'd essentially been asleep in sickbay for a week.
Why did he have to stay there and sleep anymore?
With a gentle sigh and an iron glare, Captain Janeway released
her prot�g� from the doctor's gentle ministrations with stern orders he
was to remain off duty and resting until certified fit for duty.
Tom nodded eager agreement to her proposal, only raising a finger
at the end of her speech. "Agreed, captain, on one condition."
Kathryn Janeway arched one perfect eyebrow in inquiry. Standing
beside her, B'Elanna envied the older woman's ability to convey so much
with one economical gesture. Tolerance, control, and affection all
shone through the captain's patient response to Tom's prodding and
teasing.
Leaning back on his forearms, the loose vee of his green pajama
shirt gaping slightly at the sternum, Tom regarded his commanding
officer as a plaintiff would a judge. "Please tell me that I'll never
have to put on that VISOR again!"
She laughed despite herself. "Sure, Tom. Commander Chakotay was
the first to consign that experiment to the dustbin. Seven was a bit
more disturbed at our dismissal of the innovation, although she
acknowledged that your injury was -how did she put it?- 'an unfortunate
result, not to be duplicated.'" The captain patted Tom's shoulder
reassuringly. "After what you went through, Mr. Paris, what the whole
ship went through, I'd never consider it again."
Tom heaved a sigh of relief. As the captain nodded her
dismissal, stepping off to consult with the doctor, he sat up properly
on the edge of the biobed. B'Elanna moved forward to help him down.
"Thanks, but no thanks," he responded, gingerly settling his feet on
the floor. "After all that, it feels good to be standing on my own,
although I might take up your offer if it includes getting me back to
my quarters."
"Sure, Tom," B'Elanna answered, settling her arm lightly against
the back of his waist. Slowly, the pair exited sickbay, turning left
to head for the turbolifts.
"So, B'Elanna, want to meet me on holodeck two, tonight?"
"What?" Shocked, the half-Klingon stopped dead in her tracks,
swivelling slightly to meet Tom's inviting gaze.
"You know, the holodeck, the place where people go to run
programs and. . . ." Tom explained with exaggerated patience.
"I know what you mean," B'Elanna retorted with a bit of heat.
"The doctor just released you from sickbay thirty seconds ago and
you're planning another holodate?"
Tom bestowed a leering look upon his beloved, using her
supporting arm around his waist to work his way into her embrace.
"Well, I don't know if it can live up to our _last_ experience there,"
he chuckled, "but have you ever been in the back seat of a '69 Camaro?"
B'Elanna's reply was lost in a heated kiss.
THE END
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