Author's Note: Written for sibs who made the following request: "Kathryn participates in girls night with other members of the crew - fiction." The prompt threw me a quadrant or so out of my comfort zone and, after a good bit of scrambling, resulted in the following – which hopefully meets the request at least halfway.
Many thanks, as always, to Photogirl1890 for her expert handling of everything from initial panic to last minute typos and my ever finicky revisions.
I own nothing but the good people of Paramount have been generous with their playthings once again...
Excursion
Even as he speaks, he knows it is, absolutely, the wrong thing to say.
To describe B'Elanna's reaction as 'bristling' would be like calling Neelix's cooking 'unique'. Fortunately, the warmth of the bedding relative to the chill of his quarters dissuades her from moving away as quickly as she undoubtedly would otherwise and Tom is able to add a soothing, "Come on – it won't be so bad."
Predictably, an eyebrow climbs. "A diplomatic mission – not even any minerals or metals to chase after this time. The only reason I'm going is that I'm the second highest ranking female officer on this ship – and 'it won't be so bad'?"
"Nope, not bad at all." Ignoring the eyebrow and taking his cue from the fact that she is, after all, still in his bed, Tom reaches over and pulls her into the additional warmth of his arms. "Neelix says the Shivolians have quite generous rituals of hospitality for guests – extensive feasts, fine gifts, ablutions in their sacred lagoons..."
"Just what I want: to soak in a mud bath with Janeway."
"Neelix says the Shivolian Lagoons are renowned throughout the sector for their restorative powers."
"Tom." She pulls away at that, flopping back onto her own pillow. Tom props himself on an elbow.
"You really aren't still angry with her, you know – you haven't been for months."
B'Elanna studies the ceiling. "Not still as angry."
He reaches over to fiddle with the blankets covering her. "This could give you the chance to talk to her – to bury the bat'leth and move on."
Now she turns on her side as well, meeting Tom's gaze head on. "And is that what one does during a – what did you call it? – 'girls' night out'?"
Yep, definitely the wrong thing to say.
He raises a hand in mute apology. "Just think about it, okay?"
Her responding grunt is indeterminate at best as she settles again onto her back.
"Oh, and B'Elanna – one more thing?"
"Hmm?"
"If anyone happens to snap a holoimage of you in those lagoons, I'd love a..."
His sentence is left hanging as a (possibly well deserved) pillow descends upon his head.
.
.
On the edge of her table sit a PADD and a mug of coffee. After giving both equal consideration, Kathryn picks up the mug. Nothing on that PADD is going to change in the next few minutes.
She makes quick work of the coffee as, with her free hand, she finishes up the last of her packing. Multi-tasking has always been second nature; in the Delta Quadrant, it has become necessary for survival.
Preparations complete and mug empty, she returns to the table and the PADD still sitting there. She gives it another hard look before reluctantly trading mug for PADD and thumbing on the report that the Doctor had sent over earlier – the report which details the inevitable decline of the woman over whose funeral Kathryn will next be presiding.
Marika Wilkarah.
Damn.
After all that had transpired with Ransom and the Equinox, the visit to the Markonian station had been a welcome, needed relief. The friendliness of the station operators and the chance to open up Voyager to a host of Delta Quadrant species while at the same time allowing her crew some time off-ship was a rare pleasure; Kathryn had even dared to hope that it might be a harbinger of easier territory ahead.
Instead, even that brief respite would end in yet another funeral.
Voyager – and her captain – need to catch a break.
Sending back a quick note to the Doctor asking him to keep her informed of any changes in Ms Wilkarah's status, Kathryn adds the PADD to the never diminishing pile on her desk, tosses the mug into the replicator's recycler, shoulders her duffel and heads out the door.
As she exits the turbolift into the corridors of Deck 10, she hears the hail from behind. Turning, she spies Tom speeding to a jog to catch up with her.
"Coming to see us off, Mr. Paris?" she asks amiably as he reaches her side.
With a gesture, he offers to relieve her of her bag and she gladly hands it over. "I told B'Elanna that I would come down to help recalibrate the shuttle's vector thrust nozzle. It gave Chakotay quite a rough go the last time out."
Kathryn pulls a look of (mostly) mock reproach. "Are you worried that my piloting skills aren't up to compensating for a little extra accelerated plasma?"
"Of course not, Captain." Tom's tone is all innocent deference. "I just want to ensure that you have a smooth ride and a pleasant...excursion."
"I'm sure my time away won't be quite as exciting as your own last adventure off-ship." Kathryn gives Tom's right eye a meaningful glance.
The pilot has the good grace to wince. "Just avoid any Kinbori offering you a friendly game of – well anything."
"Why do I suspect that the 'adventure' may well have occurred with or without the game?"
Amusement glints in Tom's eyes, but he is saved from answering as they turn into the shuttle bay.
On the other side of the bay, Kathryn spots Ensign Vorik prepping a type 2 shuttlecraft for launch – and with him, Voyager's chief engineer.
"Vorik, I specifically asked that the backup impulse capacitance cell be relayed through the EPS system. Not through the driver coil. The last thing we need is any more plasma near those thrust nozzles."
B'Elanna's voice carries across the bay, its irritated timbre, Kathryn suspects, less the result of Ensign Vorik's work and more in anticipation of the upcoming twenty-four hours. She sighs and then turns back to Tom, an eyebrow raised.
"I don't suppose you have any advice in that quarter?" she asks, motioning with her chin to indicate the half-Klingon.
Tom grimaces sympathetically as he hands her duffel back. Then he brightens. "Actually, Captain, come to think of it, if you can get her out of that dip in the lagoon, it would probably win you some significant points."
Kathryn chuckles appreciatively. "Thanks for the tip – and wish me luck, Ensign."
"Qapla', Captain," Tom replies gamely as she heads across to the shuttle, her helmsman, wisely, waiting to follow a minute behind.
.
.
The invitation to visit the Shivolian home world had come as Voyager was preparing to depart the Markonian station. A quick set of inquiries by Neelix had indicated that this 'invitation' was best accepted if Voyager was intending to travel through Shivolian space. Since a detour around the expansive territory would take at least two weeks, Kathryn had reluctantly agreed to the daylong venture.
Not that the Delta Quadrant had completely dulled her to the thrill of first contacts, but the particulars of the Shivolian invitation rubbed her the wrong way: the captain's presence would be required (not overly unusual) and she was asked to bring along her second highest ranking officer – female only please.
The Shivolians, Neelix explained, were a matriarchal society. Only females were able to sit on their governing council and only females would be accepted as Voyager's ambassadors.
Kathryn had cringed at the overt sexism, a trait that she was always surprised to find still present in a space-faring race, but had – with a deep breath and an internal recitation of the Prime Directive – agreed to the Shivolians' request.
She had then had the questionable pleasure of informing her chief engineer that she would be needed for a diplomatic away mission.
Giving a sidelong glance over at the copilot's seat of the small shuttle, Kathryn almost wishes she had followed the Shivolians' wishes a little less precisely. Perhaps she should have brought Seven instead – or Ensign Wildman. Or Sue Nicoletti. Frankly, any of her other female crewmembers would likely have presented a better diplomatic front than the clearly disgruntled half-Klingon currently accompanying her.
The proximity sensor alerts her to the fact that they are about to enter the Shivolian system and Kathryn prepares to gently bring the shuttle out of warp.
At least that's her intention. Instead, the shuttle pops back into normal space with the force of a cork from a bottle of Talaxian champagne.
Gathering herself back up from her console and into a seated position, Kathryn quips, "Looks like Tom needs to give fine-tuning the thrust nozzles one more go."
Her chief engineer's only acknowledgment is a raised eyebrow and a non-committal, "Hmph."
Ahead of them, the Shivolian homeworld is growing rapidly larger, and Kathryn turns her attention back to piloting the shuttle. "We'll be entering the ionosphere within the minute." And she tries a self-deprecating grin: "I'll try to get us down in one piece."
This time she gets an, "Mmm," along with a slight tilt of the engineer's chin.
Right then. Time to work on that dispensation from those ritual ablutions – and hope Tom is right about the strength of B'Elanna's aversion to mud.
.
.
The dance of diplomacy is nothing if not exhausting. Ten hours of being wined and dined (well, dined: apparently the Shivolian's reptilian physiology has left them immune to both the effects and enjoyment of alcohol), talked at and, yes, bathed in mud, Kathryn is more than happy to reach the Voyager delegation's assigned sleeping quarters.
That said, the mission has unquestionably been a success. The Shivolian governing council has been pleased to offer Voyager open access to Shivolian space and the use of resources from any of their colonial outposts or restocking stations where such aid might be of use.
So perhaps, at last, a win.
Looking out through the traditional open back wall of the Shivolian lodging, Kathryn spots her chief engineer, barely visible in the dim light provided by the bioluminescent ground covering that seems to be omnipresent on this world. She hasn't seen B'Elanna since the morning – the younger woman's attention having been quickly claimed upon arrival by members of the Shivolian Theoretical and Applied Sciences Consortium. Kathryn had used the opportunity to – none too quietly – secure the engineer's release from certain diplomatic functions in order that she might have more time for an 'inter-Quadrant exchange of knowledge'. B'Elanna had flashed a look of surprised gratitude at her captain before being whisked away to look at the Consortium's newest trans-warp slip drive equations.
Pulling off her uniform jacket – as one might expect on a reptilian race's home world, the ambient temperature borders on uncomfortably warm – Kathryn considers her options. The welcome of the alien-but-comfortable-enough-looking bed in the adjoining room is certain; that of her chief engineer is significantly less so.
Take her winnings and bid the game good night or ride her luck and double down?
Who are you trying to kid, Kathryn? You've always been a gambler.
Drawing a breath, she crosses the room and heads out into the open air.
B'Elanna is seated on one of several polished rock Shivolian-equivalent-to-chairs that form a semi-circle in the small yard. Her arms are wrapped around her knees which are drawn into her chest and her eyes and attention are on the rather luminous Shivolian starscape; she shows no sign of noticing her captain's approach. After a subtle clearing of the throat goes either unheard or unheeded, Kathryn tries a more direct opening bid: "Enjoying the stars?"
"Captain!" B'Elanna half-jumps to her feet and Kathryn waves her back to sitting. "I didn't know you were back," she adds in a tone that manages to fall ambiguously between apology and accusation.
"I just came in," Kathryn assures – or explains.
The engineer nods, accepting that, but offering nothing in return. That bed really would have been the better bet...
Kathryn sighs again and reaches up to scratch at a persistent itch on her scalp. Embedded in her hair, she fortuitously discovers a healthy sized clot of Shivolian sacred mud: time to make her play then. "I certainly hope the sonic showers are better than the Shivolians' 'rinsing baths' at getting rid of this stuff," she muses, displaying the clot, her tone oh-so-carefully neutral.
As hoped, B'Elanna looks back over. Her expression shifts. "Thanks for, um, getting me out of…some of the more diplomatic functions today." The words come out stuttered, pushed as they are past a year's worth of inertia. But, as she continues, Kathryn swears that she can see a trace of a grin in the dim light: "I'll admit that I wasn't looking forward to the mud ba…the ablutions."
Taking that as all the invitation she needs, Kathryn settles herself onto a nearby stone. "The lagoons weren't half bad while you were in them." At the engineer's snort of disbelief, she assures, "Really they were quite restorative" Another run of fingers through her hair produces a second dried remnant. She frowns at it briefly. "It's just the residue that gets you." Then she follows her companion's gaze back up to the stars. "It's a beautiful night for stargazing."
"Mmmhmm," B'Elanna agrees, her tone now more assured. "One of the astrophysicists in the consortium tipped me off to the fact that the Shivolians have strict regulations on the level of artificial lighting after sundown – something about the tie-in of the Shivolians' circadian rhythm to the bio-luminescence of the foliage. At any rate, she suggested that it made for exceptional night views." The engineer points low down on the horizon. "That cluster there reminds me of Orion." Kathryn tracks B'Elanna's gesture to a star grouping which indeed shows a striking resemblance to the iconic hunter.
"A little piece of home," she agrees. Then, "I wouldn't have thought you would be familiar with Earth's constellations, growing up as you did in the colonies."
It's an off-hand observation but B'Elanna stiffens, and it occurs to Kathryn belatedly that a certain Terran-born helmsman is likely responsible for her chief engineer's knowledge of Earth's sky – and that discussion of that helmsman had not been on the table for this evening. Discussion of Cardassian exobiologists likely is also off-limits. Kathryn sighs and gathers herself to stand and bid the other woman goodnight.
"I...we could hardly ever see the stars...on Kessik, I mean."
Kathryn freezes. B'Elanna's eyes are still fixed on the stars but her sentence was clearly meant to arrest her captain's movement. Willing various joints not to creak too obviously, Kathryn eases back down onto her stone. "Why not?"
"Kessik's moon is in geostationary orbit – directly above the colonized continent." A frown crosses B'Elanna's face at the memory. "I suppose we could have traveled to the other side of the planet, but we never did." The frown deepens. "In fact, the first time I really remember seeing stars planet-side was when we visited Qo'noS."
Kathryn's interest is piqued. She leans forward, propping her elbow on her knees and her chin on her palm. "Qo'noS? Did your family go there often?"
B'Elanna shakes her head. "My father never did, but my mother and I did from time to time – more so after..." her voice trails off, but then she snorts ruefully. "My mother was always very adamant that we should consider Qo'noS our true home."
Kathryn studies the other woman for a moment, unsure how to read her tone and mood. At last, she ventures, "It must have been difficult for her at times, living on a largely human world."
Has B'Elanna ever mentioned her mother before? Harry talks about his parents so much that Kathryn feels like she knows them; Tom shares stories of his mother and sisters freely and his father more occasionally; even Tuvok references T'Pel and his children from time to time. But, searching her memory, Kathryn cannot recall her engineer ever speaking of family.
B'Elanna seems to be considering Kathryn's last statement. "I've actually been thinking about that a lot recently. It turned her into a traditionalist, I think, being cut off from everything she knew. Or just more of one maybe. Klingon 'honor' became everything to her." Then, as she glances in Kathryn's direction, her expression shifts, as if pieces of some puzzle have just fallen into place. "Huh..."
"What?" Kathryn asks, genuinely curious.
Looking now oddly guilty, B'Elanna shakes her head. "Nothing – just a comparison that hadn't occurred to me before."
She's still curious but, like all good gamblers, Kathryn also knows when to push her luck no further. Intentionally, she moves the conversation to more neutral territory as she motions back up to the starlit sky. "So what are the stars like from Qo'noS?"
Topic turned from family to astronomy, B'Elanna again relaxes into the conversation. "Beautiful, as it turns out. My mother would take me out to the Sea of Gatan and we'd look for two constellations above the Hamar Mountains showing Sarpek tracking his lost targ." Then the engineer's mouth curves into what, this time, is unmistakably a grin. "Actually, Earth's Sol plays an…interesting part in those constellations."
Kathryn's eyebrows go up. "Dare I ask?"
"Let's just say that it appears very near to Sarpek's targ's hindquarters."
Kathryn's snort of response turns into a chuckle as she pulls herself to her feet. "On that educational note, Lieutenant, I believe it is time for me to retire." And she turns back to their rooms and that still waiting bed.
"Captain?"
Kathryn pauses and looks back around.
"I'm glad we...had the chance to talk." And there is a smile, genuine if still hesitant. "It's been too long."
Kathryn answers with a smile of her own. "It has indeed. Goodnight, B'Elanna."
.
.
"… may be applicable to our systems with modification. They'd like to keep in contact as long as we're within range which, given the time they have to devote to development, may be advantageous except..."
"Except that you don't have the time to keep up with a pen pal," Kathryn supplies, glancing over from the conn towards her companion with a sympathetic grin.
B'Elanna grimaces. "Exactly. Nor do any of my senior staff." And she frowns as she makes what looks like a minor adjustment to the shuttle's flux capacitor. "The best candidate might actually be Tom: he has both the theoretical background and experience with transwarp travel. Of course, the problem is -"
"-he's not female," Kathryn supplies again. She considers for a moment and then gives her engineer another sidelong, and this time somewhat wicked, grin. "I believe that Mr. Paris may also have the holographic programming skills to take care of that little issue."
B'Elanna's eyebrows go up as the corners of her mouth twitch. "I'm not entirely sure how he'd feel about that."
"I'll talk to him," Kathryn reassures. And her eyes are carefully back on the shuttle's controls as she adds, "There are, after all, advantages to being the captain."
Which elicits an (albeit knowing) chuckle from B'Elanna and just a touch of the tension that has steadily been building in Kathryn's back and shoulders over the last five years eases.
The communications panel indicates a hail from Voyager and Chakotay's voice fills the small cabin.
:Voyager to shuttlecraft: welcome back, Captain. I trust your time away was fruitful:
"Very fruitful," Kathryn confirms. "I'll tell you all about it once we are back on board."
:We were actually hoping you might be able to do us a quick favor on your way back in. The multispacial probe seems to have gotten itself stuck in a pocket of ionic interference just off your course. Any chance you'd be up for a quick detour to retrieve it? It was imaging a rather spectacular looking micro-nebula:
Kathryn laughs at that last little bit of bait and pulls up the shuttle's heading. "You know me too well, Chakotay. Adjusting our course now…"
:Doctor to Captain Janeway:
Having a bad feeling that her winning streak has just come to an end, Kathryn responds. "Janeway here. What can I do for you, Doctor?"
:You had asked me to keep you apprised of Ms Wilkarah's condition. It has been steadily worsening over the last twenty-four hours. Captain, I don't believe she has much time left:
Kathryn closes her eyes as her shoulders slump and all those familiar points of tension resettle into their expected patterns. Damn…
The unexpected, hesitant pressure of a hand just above her left wrist causes her to open her eyes.
"We're within transporter range of Voyager if I give the targeting scanners a little help," B'Elanna offers. "I can transport you back and then chase down the probe." The engineer's tone is neutral, but her hand is now steady on her captain's arm. For just a second, Kathryn covers it with one of her own before rising and heading to the back of the shuttle for clear transport.
B'Elanna shifts over to the pilot's seat. "Harry, I'm going to transport the Captain back using the modification to the beam frequency that I'm sending you now. Make sure to match them on your end."
:I'm on it. And B'Elanna? Tom says to tell you to keep an eye on the shuttle's plasma flow and make sure to ease up on the…:
"Got it, Harry."
Despite her now sobered mood, the corners of Kathryn's mouth twitch at the obviously strained and restrained, don't-kill-the-messenger tone of her engineer's voice.
"Ready, Captain?" B'Elanna asks, twisting in her seat to face Kathryn.
"As ready as I'm going to be," Kathryn acknowledges. "Good hunting, B'Elanna."
The transporter beam has already begun to come to life around her, when Kathryn hears the responding, "Qa'pla, Captain," before the shuttle and its single remaining occupant dissolve from sight.