Story # 7 – COMING HOME

by Delta

Day 115

 

The first snow of the season came in gently the day after the close-knit community of New Hope had laid Samantha Wildman to rest. Just as the heaviness of their spirits had overtaken the hearts of the small village’s inhabitants, so had the thick gray clouds of the storm overtaken the blue skies above. However, the snow also brought with it a soft soothing comfort, providing a peaceful solace to the desolate people.

 

Kathryn had awakened first, her body still on its Voyager schedule even in its fatigue. Even before she got out the bed, she knew that the snow was there. The world was silent... with all of its sounds muffled by its white blanket. And she could smell it... its crisp chill bringing back memories of childhood in Indiana.

 

She got out of the bed, and tiptoed over to the door, opening it ever so slightly. And there it was… the iridescent sheen of billions of unique perfectly formed ice crystals reflecting the early morning sun. She smiled, noting that the blanket brought a newness and pureness to their worn lives. Yes, there was nothing like a first snow to renew the spirit. The older woman quietly went back to the bed, and softly called out the sleeping child’s name.

 

"Naomi... Naomi... there’s something here that I think you might like to see."

 

The young Ktarian girl opened her eyes slowly, rubbing them with her small hands, whimpering that she wanted to sleep some more. She had awakened with the whining grumpiness of a little girl who not only was afraid, but more realistically, a child who had not slept well. Kathryn Janeway should have been in a like mood, as the youngster with whom she had shared her bed had tossed and turned and kicked and whimpered most of the night. It was only a couple of hours before dawn when they both gave in to the physical and emotional exhaustion that consumed both of them.

 

"I think you might like this," Kathryn Janeway said, as she tenderly picked Naomi up in her arms and took her to the door of the shelter.

 

Naomi Wildman’s innocent grief of the last two days was quickly displaced by her first encounter with the fluffy precipitation. She squirmed in Janeway’s arms.

 

"Ooooooh, Auntie Kathryn! Everything got covered with a blanket!"

 

Janeway put the little girl down, letting her run outside. The girl squealed as a brisk breeze nipped at and brightened her cheeks. The squeals turned to giggles as she leaned down and touched the glistening crystals.

 

"It’s cold!" she exclaimed, turning and looking at the older woman.

 

"Yes, it is," Janeway answered. "It’s called ‘snow’; it’s what happens when rain falls and the air is cold. The rain freezes into little ice crystals."

 

"But I don’t get wet!" chirped Naomi, now twirling in circles in the few inches of snow, scattering it around her in a fine whirlwind.

 

Kathryn was now laughing at the youthful exuberance. "Not unless it melts. Come... let’s get you into some warmer clothes and then we can really play in it," she said gently leading Naomi back inside. The sleep coverings on her feet were already wet, but the little one hadn’t noticed it.

 

Janeway knew that it would be using precious replicator rations, but she wanted Naomi to have some real boots for the upcoming colder weather; this was probably the first of many snowstorms to come. She quickly found one of Naomi’s shoes and placed it into the replicator as a template. True to her command, the computerized supply generator reproduced a weatherproof set of footwear. A few seconds later, she was dressing the youngster for the elements. She only hoped that Naomi would wait for ‘Auntie Kathryn’ to get dressed!

 

Soon, the oldest and the youngest women from Voyager were outside in the bright early morning sun, picking up snow by the handful and creating their own snowstorm. The sheer joy in their voices happily awoke the rest of the small village, and soon most of the inhabitants of New Hope were in the snow, reverting to long-ago memories of other times and other places, allowing themselves a much-needed release from the heavy emotions of the most recent days. Sliding, running, scurrying, reveling... snow angels and snowmen materialized out of the winter morning’s miasma. Only Tuvok and Vorik refrained from the frivolities, more from their dislike of cold weather than from the merry emotions that the rest of their comrades were experiencing. Even Seven had joined in, although she stayed by the sidelines, observing more than participating.

 

"Seven!" she heard someone cry out. She turned quickly to respond, and was hit full in her upper chest by a large snowball. Her acute vision rapidly determined that the culprit behind the frozen missile was Harry.

 

She was rubbing the insulted area of her body as she spoke. "Mr. Kim, I do not believe that the object of this experience is to inflict injury on one’s... friends. Why do you wish to harm me?"

 

Harry ran up to her, and placed a consoling arm around her shoulders. "I’m sorry, Seven; I really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you have every right to hit me with a snowball, too... if you can catch me!" And he turned and raced away.

 

Seven turned to run after him, but found that she was not exactly dressed to participate in such a childish game of tag. The snow hampered her movement, and she fell into the soft ground covering, a pouf of fine white crystals spraying up around her. The tall Borg human landed on her well-rounded derriere, and for the first time truly noticed the low temperature of the substance.

 

"Oh! This is not at all comfortable!" she stated, attempting to cover her undignified fall and position. The doctor immediately rushed over to her, and helped her to a standing position.

 

"Hmmmm. It would seem that we need to look into providing you with a wardrobe more hospitable to the climate," he said, grimacing at the thought of another costume design that would be acceptable to his very demanding customer. "Come, Seven... let’s see what we can do for you; those boots and that jumpsuit are not really good for outside winter wear." He took her hand to lead her back to the maintenance building.

 

Seven’s mishap was soon forgotten, as the others took off after Harry and Sarah Hickman, who had quietly stashed an arsenal of snowballs and had continued pelting everyone after Harry’s well-timed hit on Seven.

 

Once in the sick bay area of the building, Seven stood rigidly in the middle of the room, her blue jumpsuit obviously quite wet. A small puddle surrounding her was quickly getting larger.

 

"This is not comfortable," she stated, almost in a whine to the EMH. Suddenly, she cried out, raising her right hand to her mouth, quickly placing her thumb inside her mouth. "Ohhhhh... this hurts!" she cried out, now extending the thumb towards the doctor.

 

The digit was a purplish red color, and she was shaking her hand, as if wanting to keep it... or something... moving.

 

"Here... let me see," said the doctor, running over with his medcorder and scanning her hand. He furrowed his brow.

 

"Well, Seven... I think we got you back inside just in time. It seems that you have frostbite of your hand."

 

"I was not bitten!" she proclaimed grumpily.

 

"No... no... I don’t really mean ‘bitten’. That’s what the condition is called when a part of the body is subjected to very cold temperatures over a period of time, and the body temperature drops, causing damage to the tissue of the affected area." He placed her hand between his two larger ones, hoping to warm her hand slowly by adjusting his body temperature accordingly.

 

"But I was not in the... snow... very long," she whimpered. "Others have been outside much longer than I."

 

"Yes, but they are more protected for the snow and cold weather than you."

 

"And you are all right," she continued looking at him.

 

"But I’m a hologram, Seven. We do not experience such sensations, you know. I adjust my body temperature as befits the situation. Currently, because of your particular needs, I have programmed my skin surface to radiate at a temperature of 36.8 ^o Celsius."

 

She assumed her normal dignified pose and demeanor, pulling her hand out from between his. "That is true. I had forgotten." Her face quickly became distorted again, as her thumb rebelled against being taken out from the healing warmth of his hands.

"Owwww! It still hurts!" she exclaimed.

 

"And it will for awhile. As soon as the temperature is back to normal, I’ll use the tissue regenerator on it," he said, once more completely encompassing her hand.

 

The two misfits among the Voyager crew looked at each other for several seconds, each one wondering what to say next. Seven blinked her eyes several times before commenting.  "Doctor... couldn’t you use your regenerator right now? Is this extended... contact... all that necessary?"

 

The temperature of the EMH suddenly increased but 0.78 ^o, without a seeming physical need.

 

"Do you find this unpleasant?" he finally mumbled, but still not releasing her.

 

"N... no... " she stuttered.

 

"Humph... Well, just consider it part of my exemplary bedside manner. It has allowed you a few moments to regain your composure."

 

She now withdrew her hand, and instinctively placed it under her arm to continue its thawing process.  "I am not in a bed, doctor, nor are you beside one. And I do not need any time to... regain my composure."  She once more winced at the throbbing in her thumb. "Why... when my thumb is so cold... does it feel so hot? Is this normal for the human body?" she asked.

 

"The human body is a bag full of corporeal oxymorons, my dear Seven. I’ve been trained to treat its physical frailties, not to understand its absurdities." He patted her on the shoulder, and the wetness of her clothes once again became foremost in his mind.

"Now... let’s get you out of those clothes and into something more appropriate for colder climes."

 

~*~

 

The snowball war had quickly come to an end when its two instigators, who had beaten a hasty retreat, were found huddled behind Kathryn Janeway’s bioshelter. The couple had suddenly become lost in their own thought and world and hadn’t heard the silent approach of a team led by Tom Paris. Shouts of triumph rang out as a barrage of the frozen missiles rained down on the hapless pairs. Their shrieks almost drowned out the laughter of their attackers.

 

"Harry, you really need to learn evasion tactics a little better," laughed Tom, looking at his friend who was brushing off the remains of the wet icy slush and trying to help Sarah to her feet.

 

"Well, we got in the first volley. You’ve got to admit that we are good with a surprise offense," Harry recountered. "Hey... where’s B’Elanna?" Harry asked, looking around for Tom’s ever-present wife.

 

"Aw, she wasn’t feeling too good this morning. You know B’Elanna... cold weather is not her friend. I think she was just looking for an excuse not to leave a warm bed."

 

Sarah’s eyes suddenly took on an interested gleam. "Oh... really? Maybe I should go check on her."

 

"She’s all right," said Tom. "She’s been like this a couple of other times recently. She shakes it off by mid-morning."

 

Sarah now nodded with a conspiratorial understanding. "Hmm; all the more reason. Has she checked with the doc?"

 

Tom became a little defensive. "She’s really all right, Sarah. It’s just the weather changes. Hey... it’s been quite a while since any of us have had to adjust to the seasonal climate changes on a planet’s surface."

 

"Nonetheless... I think I’ll go look in on her," Sarah said with stubborn determination. She finished brushing the clinging snow off of her jacket and pants, and leaned over and gave Harry a quick kiss on his snow-burned cheek. "See you in a little while, " she said, now off on her self-proclaimed mission.

 

The red of Harry’s cheek was now a combination of a first class blush and the reaction to the elements.  "Well... what was that all about?" he asked.

 

Tom’s look was just as bewildered. "Beats me. Hey... you’re the one who should understand her!"

 

Harry shook his head. "Not in a million parsecs. Once she gets a notion in her head, I’m a forgotten entity."

 

Tom was helping Harry dust off the remaining snow. "Yeah... women." His chain of thought was quickly replaced by a male’s other constant object-of-desire. "Say... I heard that Chakotay was going to whop up a communal breakfast this morning. Why don’t we head over to the commons building and see what he’s cooking up? I’m sure Sarah will bring B’Elanna on over with her."

 

"Sounds good to me," Harry said, as the two best friends headed to the village’s main building.

 

~*~

 

Tom and Harry exited the communal building just as Sarah was arriving from her visit to B’Elanna.

 

"Where’s B’Elanna?" Tom asked, a little uneasy. "Is she all right? Should I go back in and get her some food?"

 

A wise smile took over Sarah’s face, and her eyes shone with a hidden secret. "No, Tom; I don’t think food is what she needs right now… "

 

"But she’s okay?" he asked once more, not having gotten the answer he wanted.

 

"She’s fine. In fact, she’s more than fine. But I don’t think she’s going to be ready to go work on the power station for a couple more hours. Oh, and Harry... please make sure that the radioactive shield is working properly," she added. "Tom, I really think that there is something she wants to discuss with you."

 

The former helmsman looked at Hickman, who was trying to remain serious. Suddenly, as if a warp core had breached in his brain, he took off towards the Torres/Paris domicile.

 

Harry’s bewildered face was muddled with misunderstanding, as he repeated his earlier question, "What’s that all about?"

 

An enigmatic smile spread across Sarah’s face. "I think we’ll all know soon enough."

 

 ~*~

 

Tom got to the door of the bioshelter, only to be welcomed by horrible retching sounds emanating from the bathroom area. He hurriedly ran there, to find B’Elanna, leaning over the sink and a very un-Klingon shade of gray.

 

"B’Elanna! Oh, jeez... Sarah said you were all right," he moaned as he grabbed a cloth to wipe her face.

 

In spite of her weakened appearance, there was nothing frail with the woman’s spirit. She shook her head and garbled back at her husband, "I am all right, you dolt! I’m..." Her verbal tirade was cut off as she once more fell victim to the spasms that had overcome her.

 

Tom was almost on the verge of panic. Her twirled around looking for... what? What could he do to help her?

 

Her crisis had ceased before he got his senses back. It was she who now grabbed him, pulling him into their sitting area. Her recovery and subsequent movements caught him off guard, and he looked up at her like a kid caught in a scuffle and being dragged home by an irate mother. She slung his body onto the sofa and sat down next to him. Some of her color had come back, but her lips were taunt and dry.

 

"Thomas Eugene Paris, for all of your so-called experience with women there is obviously one area in which you are still very ignorant."

 

He looked at her with a blank expression. Her face looked much thinner and more wan than he remembered it to be.

 

B’Elanna pulled herself upright into a very military straight position and cleared her throat.

"Lt. Paris, I have some very shocking news for you..."

 

Tom was now the one who blanched.

 

She continued seriously. "I am... that is, we are... going to be parents!"

 

He didn’t understand at first. What? What had she said? Was that B’Elanna talking? No -- she’s sick! No --- she’s.... Suddenly, the full meaning of her statement hit him. And why she had been ‘off’ in the mornings... and Sarah’s comment about better safety at work…  and...

 

The young man suddenly went nova; never in his life had he heard better news! He jumped up, grabbing her in his arms, forgetting about her delicate queasy state. He started twirling her around.

 

"B’Elanna... oh, B’Elanna... my wonderful, beautiful B’Elanna!" he sang out, dancing around with her.

 

"Tom... Tom...." she whispered. "Please... not quite so hard, or I might..." and he heard her involuntary responses to the dizzying motion take over. He quickly put her down, stroking her forehead as he laid her down on the sofa.

 

"No; I don’t want to do that. Oh, B’Elanna... this is wonderful! This is..."

 

"Paris, are those tears in your eyes? If they are, I know I’m going to throw up again!"

 

The bewildered young man sniffed back the moisture collecting in his head. "You bet your sweet ridges they are, Torres. Man, what a gamut of emotions we’ve had lately. I know that Sam... that Sam..." he stopped, the tears now coming for real.

 

B’Elanna wiped them away, and quietly finished his words. "... that Sam would be very happy to have someone here with Naomi. I know; I know. And it will be good for there to be another..." she hesitated in speaking the word, "...another child here in New Hope." She shifted her body, a small burp coming from her as she did so. "Must be a boy," she smirked back at the father-to-be.

 

Tom leaned over and kissed her. "So... mom... when do you think that we will …um… no longer be two?"

 

"A little more than seven months from now. Plenty of time for you to get used to the fact," she answered. She got up and started back to the sleeping area. "And now... I’ve got to get ready for work. We’ve got a lot to do before the next Paris arrives in this universe."

 

Tom ran over to her and gently put his arm around her shoulder.  "Work? You shouldn’t be working!" he whispered in her ear.

 

She turned to him with her well-worn Klingon glare. "Paris, I’ll have you know that Klingon women have given birth in the middle of battle and gotten up with their offspring under one arm, and a bat’leth in the other. Harry and Seven are expecting me, and I will not let them down. Is that understood?"

 

"Yes, ma’am!" he squeaked, backing off, but clearly not finished talking with her.  "Um... B’Elanna... have you told the Capt... I mean, Kathryn... about this yet?"

 

B’Elanna had once more washed her face, pulled on some warm clothes, and was tugging at her boots.  "No. I thought that we should probably tell her together."

 

"What about anyone else?" he continued.

 

"You mean, does anyone else know? Well, obviously Sarah Hickman... she’s no dummy! And, yes… the doc knows. I went to see him yesterday, and he’s the one who confirmed it. I was," the dark woman became a little flushed, "I was hoping for a little more... um... a better time... to tell you than this."

 

"I think I’ve learned in a time-honored way," laughed Tom. "I guess I’d better start getting some fatherhood lessons from Tuvok!"

 

"You do that, flyboy; I’ve got a comm satellite to work on. How about your duties today?"

 

"Tuvok, Kelsey and I are going to try to make some cold weather adaptations to the Phoenix so that we can have some ground maneuverability in this weather. Tuvok seems to think that there are some copper deposits in the mountains about three-hundred kilometers from here, and we’d like to get over there soon to check it out."

 

"Sounds like a plan. Care to walk me to the Voy-Com area and maybe stop off and talk with Kathryn?"

 

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world!" a beaming Tom Paris responded.

 

~*~

 

Kathryn’s reaction to Tom and B’Elanna’s news was as warm and welcome as they had expected. "I couldn’t be happier for you. If this had been a year ago, I would have demoted each of you... but, for New Hope, it is the right and proper thing. And I hope that this is the first of many such announcements." She saw the look of horror on the faces of the two younger people. "No, no; not all from you!" she laughed. "I mean, I’m not blind. The crew has recovered their land legs, and with those appendages, they seem to have... well, I see a lot more couples forming now than I saw on Voyager." She paused, and then gave a wicked little chortle. "But, then again, they could have already been forming on Voyager, and I just wasn’t attuned to them. Anyway, this is wonderful news! Do you want me to make an ‘official announcement’, or will you just let the grapevine do it’s thing?"

 

B’Elanna cast a look at Tom. "I really wouldn’t want anyone to think that we had ‘slighted’ them. Perhaps you should pass the news along."

 

Kathryn’s face took on a maternal look itself as she smiled back, "I will be honored."

 

~*~

 

The announcement sent a happy buzz throughout the colony. It was just what was needed following the gravity of their mini-epidemic and the loss of Sam. B’Elanna and Tom were constantly being interrupted in their tasks by well-wishers.

 

The engineering team working on Voy-Com finally had to seclude themselves from their visitors. Harry was the one of the three who seemed to be basking in the attention the most; both B’Elanna and Seven were concentrating fixedly on the computer ground systems that linked them with their launched communication satellite.

 

Each of the three engineers was reviewing chips with recorded incoming noise from over the last five days. It was a boring job, but one in which the slightest difference could signal a possibility of communicating with someone... anyone... out beyond the atmosphere of their new home planet. It was almost six hours since they had started, and the mid-day fatigue that B’Elanna was now coming to expect had just docked itself in her body.

 

"Harry... Seven... I’m a little weary. I think I’ll go into the office area and lay my head down for a while. Let me know if you find anything."

 

~*~

 

She could have sworn that she just put her head in her hands and closed her eyes momentarily; but Harry was actually shaking her shoulders, pulling her out of a full sleep.

"B’Elanna... B’Elanna..." he said as gently as he could. "I think Seven has found something."

 

The half Klingon/half human woman jumped up, and practically ran back to the work area. Seven was replaying a video readout of her findings. Yes, there it was; for about 2.17 seconds... the telltale image of subspace field distortions: undeniable evidence of the path of a warp-speed vehicle in their area.

 

Seven turned to B’Elanna. "It would appear that a ship comparable to a Federation Olympic class ship passed within 0.2 light years from this planet," she said in an expressionless voice.

 

"How long ago?" B’Elanna queried, her tone far from being calm.

 

"It would seem sometime within the last twenty-four hours. I would say perhaps about twenty hours ago."

 

"Can we try to hail them?"

 

"I already have," Seven responded. "However, our signals are too weak to reach them. We currently have a range of 375,000 km. We would have had to known about them as they were starting an approach into our space."

 

"Damn!" said B’Elanna, but she continued excitedly. "But... we now know that there is some traffic through this area! Harry... Seven... we’ve got to have someone listening to the signals in ‘real’ time, not just our retrospective checks. Let’s set up a rotation of ‘listeners’. And then let’s see if we can boost our signal some more."

 

"I’m on it already," Harry nodded, as he pulled out his padd and started on some calculations.

 

A smile warmed B’Elanna face. "We’re not alone, are we?"

 

Harry’s grin answered back, "Nope; I don’t think we are."

 

Seven looked back and forth between the two exuberant humans. "Of course we are not alone. The three of us are here, working together."

 

Harry’s now-familiar laugh at Seven’s literal translation of their words lit up the now-darkening area around them. "No, no, Seven. What B’Elanna meant was that we might not be stranded on this planet after all. If there are other beings out there whom we can contact; perhaps we can be rescued from this place after all."

 

"But I thought you liked it here," Seven responded solemnly.

 

"We do, Seven. It’s just that... well, we still have dreams of getting home."

 

"Home?" the former Borg questioned. "You mean... to rejoin your collective on Earth..."

 

Harry just shook his head, knowing that this was a never-ending battle with the tall blonde woman. "Yeah, that’s right; our collective." He then turned to B’Elanna. "And, B’Elanna... you’ll have a family once again. Just think – getting back to Earth with a grandchild for old Admiral Paris..."

 

B’Elanna’s expression softened, as a pre-mother gleam lit up her face. "I hadn’t even thought of that, Harry. Tom’s family... now mine." Shadows quickly formed, though. "But... I’m sure I’m not who they would have picked out for their son..."

 

"Grandchildren have a way of bridging all sorts of gaps, B’Elanna. If... no, when we get back to Earth, I know that you will be welcomed."

 

"I’ll hold you to that, Harry, my friend," she smiled back.

 

Seven watched her two workmates, trying to assimilate their emotions about this word ‘home’. She would have to ask the doctor about that.

 

~*~

 

The sparkling clear day lead into a glistening still night. Tom was in the Torres/Paris bioshelter before B’Elanna, and he had fixed a simple supper of her favorite comfort foods – banana pancakes and Ktarian tea. Hopefully, her stomach could tolerate these foodstuffs, he thought. She walked into the door, looking exhausted but with a rare expression of peace and calm on her face. She walked over to the small table, and smiled up at him.

 

"You remembered..."

 

Tom assumed an aw, shucks look. "Every once in a while I can do something right. Like... finally marrying you," he said, gently taking her into his arms.

 

B’Elanna kissed him. "Hmmph... you waited long enough," she retorted. She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. "Tom... if we do eventually make it back to Earth, what do you think your family will think about us… about me?"

 

"They won’t have much to say," he answered. "And remember... we’ve changed. I’m sure that they have also. Hey... they have put up with me for a long time. Once they meet you... and this one," he said, lovingly cradling her stomach in his open hand, "they’ll know exactly what changed me... for the better. Now... let’s get some food into you before it gets kicked out again."

 

B’Elanna was hesitant to let go, even thought she was suddenly ravenous.

 

"Tom, I just want you to know that whatever happens... whether we do make it back to the Alpha Quadrant, or if we live to a ripe old age right here, that any place you are with me will be my home."

 

Tom hugged her. Life for Tom Paris had changed. "Then, Torres, I’ve come home already."