Chapter 4 Soulmates
The chime sounded, a door whooshed open, and Voyager's First Officer Commander Tom Paris stepped into his Starship Captain's private office with PADD in hand.
Captain Chakotay grinned at his smiling 'Number One.' "Right, Tom. Just barge right in like you own the place." But he was far more concerned about what was on his PADD. How the hell do I handle this one?
Tom took his usual seat, placing his device with its umpteen messages on the conference table. "You did say your door was always open to me, Captain! And Ensign Rhigolene said it was very important." Per Starfleet tradition, a ship's First Officer required no permission to enter or salute when reporting to his commanding officer. If the door was unlocked, he was free to go in. The two officers were strong friends anyway, so much different than the way things were on the Val Jean and even in the Delta Quadrant.
"Any coffee, Skipper?" I hope not. His coffee tastes like he flies, rough and bumpy.
Chakotay nodded then reached for the heating carafe and poured out two cups of steaming lumpiness. "Still take it black, Tom? I think you really take it just like someone else we know. Any way you can get it." He chuckled with that fond memory. He had his differences with then-Captain Kathryn Janeway but coffee wasn't one of them.
Paris laughed. "Yeah. We're such spitting images in every way. I've been her personal life-long work-in-progress since she was Dad's science officer way back when."
Chakotay chuckled as he flipped through his PADD. "You got that right! I can hear Kathryn saying just that." Tom snorted in response, as he sipped that brackish liquid. Terrible stuff, but no excuse. He had invited the wrath of the caffeine god by asking for it.
Now the Mayan descendant fidgeted a bit with a particular PADD document that he had received an hour ago. "This initial report of yours on the slipstream drive issue is bad. More than that to tell the straight skinny. Bad enough to pull us off patrol. What does Engineering have to say about it?"
Tom rubbed his chin, which for some reason had been itchy lately. The Doctor had prescribed a salve. "Lieutenant Borzcik thinks the harmonic resonators are shot. I looked at them. They are but we don't have all the diagnostics yet. Could be worse than that. The good news is that Mike assures me that we can limp into Deep Space Nine and access their overhaul facility. As you know we were going there anyway, just sooner now. Looking at a month's travel there at full impulse." He blinked a bit, his eyes adjusting to the lower office light.
Chakotay was watching Paris closely. He apparently had not heard the news he had received twenty minutes before.
Tom felt a bit nervy with the close scrutiny he was receiving and he knew something was up. He sipped some coffee and pretended to enjoy it, even smacking his lips. That did not stop the glare so he continued. "Our Chief Engineer is good but Mike's no overhaul specialist. Plus he's a short timer. His long-denied reassignment to Deep Space Two came through this morning. He leaves upon arrival."
Then a thought entered his head, one he really did not want there. "I wish we had B'El…." Tom stopped short before resurrecting a very painful memory. Chakotay did not move but he had heard it.
The First Officer regrouped and then uttered, "Umm...I sent a message to their ops folks to expect us earlier and to make sure we had a docking berth. We're good. Slipstream engines are tricky, so we don't have an estimate for repair time and parts have to come from various depots. If it is extensive damage, we will need to be towed to San Francisco or the Mars ship yard. Unless of course we can figure out a workable alternative."
Now Chakotay moved. God, he hoped a tow was not required but on the plus side he could see his wife, Annika, again. This was an irritating delay but there was nothing they could do about it. Half in jest but in good humor, he slipped Paris a probing question and watched for his reaction. "Only one message to the station, Tom?"
Paris blinked. So subtle, like a warp core breech. The California native began tapping his PADD device on the desk, his mind a billion light years away thinking about a certain engineer. "Yes, I took the liberty, Sir. MIDAS time is precious out here so I piggy-backed voice-only onto the official one. Just a 'Hey, how's it going' so she knows I'm thinking about her. I can put myself on report or flog myself with a wet noodle. I like noodles." He smirked.
Chakotay answered forthrightly. "Tom, you know you didn't violate any regulations, as long as there is DataStream space. I got one from Annika the same way in the morning dump from Starfleet."
"How is she doing?" Chakotay had married the former Seven-of-Nine three years ago and she now called herself Annika Hansen. Then-Rear Admiral Janeway was noticeably absent from the ceremony and had sent her regrets. Cited migraines.
That question spawned an interesting look from Voyager's Captain, one of delight and concern. "Thanks for asking. Typical for being a bored Academy scientist at home while being due next month. She's big as a house. Cranky. Lonely. But still her pragmatic self. She agreed to our marriage and my simultaneous appointment as Voyager's Captain so she knows the deal. I am thankful, Tom, that your family keeps tabs on her. I miss her and I'm anxious and I'm not the one carrying our daughter. I guess it will take some adjustment to becoming a Daddy."
Paris shook his head. "Not really, Sir. Just sorta happens."
"When?" Chakotay had been wondering, the thought of being a father kept slithering around inside his skull like a snake.
Tom's mind wandered back to his married quarters on Voyager's Deck Three about six years ago or so. He was off-shift dressed in a robe and pajamas while watching cartoons on that antique television B'Elanna had made for him. Then he got the call that his wife had collapsed in Engineering and was beamed directly to Sickbay. The popcorn bowl flew out of his lap and he ran to the turbolift. It was too slow in arriving so he jerked open a Jeffries tube access cover, ripping his hand. He bled all over himself climbing down to Deck Six and sprinted to Sickbay. And there she was, the EMH casually checking her blood pressure. And that face of hers was just beaming. "We're pregnant, Daddy!"
Tom was stunned. This was a true miracle, for a human and human-Klingon to conceive. Then his reaction came back to him, clear now as if it just happened. He took her left hand in his left one and gazed into those brown pools of hers. Kissing her lips and forehead, he spoke with emotion. "I love you, Mommy."
That memory invoked a grin that quickly faded. "Right when she tells you. And you know it. But everyone reacts differently and so much for a trip down memory lane. Now if there is nothing else, Captain, I need to go over the semi-annual officer fitness reviews before I send them to you for concurrence."
Chakotay sat up a bit and handed Tom his PADD. "There is one more thing, Tom. The morning dump also had this message in it. Sent 'Personal For' to me to expedite it via MIDAS. But it is actually for you. It's from Vice Admiral Janeway at Starfleet Headquarters Personnel Division. It's a copy of Captain Charlie Day's official patrol report from Narcissus. Read the executive summary. It's at the top."
Tom was a bit baffled as to why Charlie's routine report would be sent to him through the Vice Admiral. Still, it would be nice to read anything from his old running buddy. He inspected it with typical interest, glancing up to see Chakotay sitting there with his left elbow on the chair arm and his hand propping up his chin. He was watching him again with scrutiny looking for a reaction.
Five paragraphs and the signature block later, Tom's face remained a blank page. He carefully placed the PADD down as if it were made of blown glass. "If there is nothing else, Sir."
Chakotay twisted a bit and spoke with feeling. "Look, Tom. Anytime, you know that. If you need someone else to talk with I have a priority MIDAS channel to Starfleet we can use. I think Commander Deanna Troi is the Headquarters Chief Counselor now. She's damned good."
Still blank; Paris was as cool as a block of ice. "Yes, Sir. I know of her. But I have my own counselor. She's damned good too, in a lot of ways."
That elicited a head shake and what could be considered either a firm warning or friendly advice, depending. "Seeing Lieutenant Commander Dax over this development is really not a good idea, Tom."
"With all due respect, Sir, Ezri's a professional. No problem. Now, those reviews. I need to get to them. Please."
Typical First Officer, all the way. Voyager's Captain nodded and indicated Tom could go, which he did.
Chakotay spun around in his chair a couple times, nearly spilling his coffee. Starship captains are no slouch when it comes to assessing crew behavior and he had noticed several things about Tom's conduct during that session. When Tom was reading that report he was calm. But after standing up to leave, a twinkle in his eye showed incredible relief. And Chakotay noticed one more thing. As he left, Tom was unconsciously rubbing his empty left ring finger.
/
"Miral, are you still not dressed yet? You'll miss the transport for school! Move it, young lady!"
A grunt came from down the hallway. "I'm not going. I'm sick. Have a fever." Cough. Cough. "See?"
As a mother, even a long-absentee one, Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres knew her daughter was faking. She was acting out once more, the result of discovering she indeed had a Mom and not just aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents who had often rotated responsibility for her with Tom away.
In the few months Torres had been back, the mid-grade officer had moved into Federation-provided quarters separate from Tom's, in-processed Starfleet once more and received gobs of back pay. She also visited someone very special yesterday. That office call had given her hope. She now had a good chance to make things right. And she was taking it.
For several weeks now, Torres was burning up accumulated leave trying to get to know the now six-year-old little girl she had last held as an infant. Miral would have none of it. Pushing her mother away or hiding in her room under the bed or in a closet was customary. She would not call B'Elanna her 'Mommy' or 'Mom.' Not even a slight touch or cuddle; she would cry out in bogus pain if her mother even tried to touch her. Miral barely even spoke to her without prompting.
B'Elanna was miserable not only because of Miral but also because she missed her husband terribly. But had taken the counselor's advice for patience and was not pushing too hard. Like mother, like daughter; they were both very stubborn. So she worked with Miral best she could and had not yet tried to contact Tom, thinking that it would be better to see him in person once he returned to Earth.
"You're not sick, Honey. I watched you get your clothes out and you do not have a fever. I have your lunch ready and make sure you eat your applesauce this time. Get your backpack with your homework and PADDs, and…."
"Why is your duffle bag packed?" Miral was staring around her bedroom door with her head cocked to one side.
So that was it this time. Torres looked down the hallway at her daughter. "Because I have to go away, for a while. I'm going to Deep Space Nine. Voyager is broken there and I was told to go fix it."
Miral came out of her room wearing her blue and white school jumper. Voyager! Suddenly she perked up, asking a question that was really exclamatory. "Will you see Daddy?"
A pause and a nod. She was going there on official orders and Tom would indeed be there. "Yes."
"Wait!" Miral ran back into her room. A minute later she returned. "Give this to Daddy. A present." She handed two objects over and snagged her backpack and lunch bag. With a couple skips, she headed for the door.
B'Elanna looked at what had been placed in her hand. The first item was a hastily scrawled note, scribbled in pink crayon by a child's unskilled hand. It said, "Love u Daddy Miral" and there was a small heart drawn there in red. The other was something that Miral cherished nearly as much as the Targ doll Tom gave her for her birthday. It was a framed holopicture that had been taken on Voyager by the EMH years ago. Tom and B'Elanna were in Sickbay. Torres was in a medical gown sitting up on a biobed with Miral in her arms, gazing down at her newborn baby with a mother's love. Tom was standing behind B'Elanna, his arm around her as he looked over her shoulder, smiling down at his daughter for the first time. He was touching his offspring's forehead.
"That's so nice, Sweetheart." Then suddenly she just could not stand it anymore. "Miral, can…will you please come here. Please, Honey."
The little girl turned to that voice then dropped her bags and tentatively walked over. B'Elanna picked her up and was surprised that Miral allowed her to do it, wrapping her legs around Mom's waist with her hands behind her neck.
B'Elanna touched her own forehead ridges and then her daughter's. "Look at me, Sweetheart. What do you see?"
Miral leaned back just a bit and felt her mother's forehead. "I see me. Like my reflection. What do you see?"
Progress. I see progress. Torres' eyes watered, as she went nose-to-nose, her brown orbs peering deeply into her daughter's brown eyes. "What do I see? A mirror. The mirror to my soul. In you I see my blood; our blood, your Daddy's and mine; and my Klingon heritage; and my honor as a woman and mother and Starfleet officer; and the Paris and Torres families; all passed on to you. In a few years, you will understand all of that." Miral looked deeply into her Mom's brown eyes and tears suddenly formed. They spilled over and ran down her cheeks. B'Elanna let them flow undisturbed. Finally, her daughter was healing.
B'Elanna spoke softly with emotion. "I know this is not easy for you, Miral. But I promise you I will do everything I can to get Daddy back. I love him so much but it is not my decision. He has to choose to do it."
Miral nodded, sniffed, and wiped her own face. Then she put her head on B'Elanna's strong shoulder and her mother slowly spun her around to head to the door. Picking up the school bags she entered the elevator. They descended and then went outside to the bus stop. There was the hoverbus, patiently waiting. The driver wasn't too late and he knew how stubborn Miral could be.
B'Elanna put her daughter down and waved goodbye. "Grandma Julia will pick you up after school. I'll be back in six months. I love you, Miral! You and Daddy are everything to me!" Maybe someday you can love me.
The bus door opened and Miral Paris walked up the steps, scuffing her shoes as she went. Suddenly, she turned around and ran back to give her Mother a hug, the first one since B'Elanna's return. Miral looked up at her shocked but relieved Mom and smiled that Tom Paris grin of hers.
"Daddy loves you, Mommy. He told me before he left for the space station. And I love you too."
/
Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres walked up the boarding ramp at the Starfleet San Francisco space port, waving goodbye to the USS Constellation's Captain Charlie Day and Psychiatrist Neenah Flaxes who came to see her off. The two were holding hands; having hit it off fast on the return trip from Narcissus. Now in vacation clothes, Charlie was on leave and they were taking his private shuttle to Verona, Italy, just as soon as they saw B'Elanna off. She was so happy for them. Day had told her he was going to pop the question and he was scared to death. B'Elanna, however, knew what the answer was going to be. It was already there in Neenah's eyes. They were soulmates.
This morning had been a whirlwind of family goodbyes filled with tears and laughter. As much as she hated to leave, none of this would have been possible without the person she owed so much. Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway.
Yesterday, B'Elanna had visited her former Captain, career Starfleet officer, and the damned good woman she had come to view as her older sister and mentor, given fourteen years difference in age. There had been the usual pleasantries when they met once more, followed by lengthy hugs, ample wet eyes, and even a couple kisses on the cheek. Torres was obviously stressed and Janeway looked much older; her red-dyed hair covering up more than a few grey ones and there were wrinkles from age and the pressures of Starfleet. Still slim she also looked sad, as if she had lost someone very dear.
A lot passed silently between these two as they held steaming mugs of raktajino in their hands. At the time, both officers were staring out of the twenty-seventh floor of Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco.
Torres spoke first, breaking the silence. "Admiral, I wish this visit was a social call under more pleasant circumstances. I thank you for seeing me on short notice."
Kathryn turned to her former Chief Engineer. "How could I not? You are the best damned engineer I have ever known, an incredible woman, and a devoted wife and mother. And on top of that, you make more than a decent gagh. Who wouldn't see you on short notice?"
They laughed. Janeway really hated gagh. But she did view herself at times as Torres' older sister. Maybe even a surrogate mother if truth be told, although she wasn't that much older. On Voyager, their bond had been tighter than the crew ever knew, except perhaps for Chakotay and Tom.
Their time on Voyager was why Torres went straight to her now weeks after being reunited with Miral and meeting her estranged husband's family. And also after seeing her father, John Torres, who surprisingly did his best to mend kilometers of broken fences. It was difficult for both of them but his being a loving grandpa did a lot to make that happen. B'Elanna smirked at yet another case of what she now called 'Miral Magic.' That girl could reunite the Red Sea with that smile of hers.
"Admiral, I know I just got back a few weeks ago but I need a favor."
That was no surprise. Janeway knew what it was but asked anyway. "Personal or professional? I am much better at the latter than the former."
"Maybe both, Ma'am. I need some answers and I need a job. A specific job that a three-star can pull off. Dad, Admiral Paris that is, said I should ask you because you handle Alpha Quadrant personnel assignments."
Janeway acknowledged that statement. "Owen gave me a heads up. But lets start with defining the problem and then seeking the answer. I taught you that."
"You did." They had more coffee and moved to a small conference table. "The problem is that I have lost my husband because of what happened on Gen. What I said there was...horrible. You know that. It's in my report."
"A very personal account, I might add." The Vice Admiral had read it and was shocked at its thoroughness. "You laid it all out there. I don't know if I could have been that revealing. I am so very proud of you, B'Elanna. You have come a long way. You honor your family and I mean that sincerely." Janeway was never mushy like Tom and that was as close as she could get. But it was heart-felt nonetheless.
Torres wiped a tear away. "Thank you, Ma'am. That means a lot. In my view, this whole thing is a case of temporary insanity on both our parts and no different than the never-ending crap we all experienced in the DQ. But in this case there is a real threat to my marriage, a clear and present danger. As I recall from reading Sun Tzu at the Academy, you must know your enemy and know yourself. Right now I know myself better than I really want to. Now I must know my enemy."
"You are speaking of course about Lieutenant Commander Ezri Dax."
"'Yes, Ma'am. That…Starfleet officer."
"She's not the enemy, Commander. She isn't Borg or the Dominion."
"Different quadrants, same difference." B'Elanna was outwardly calm but spitting venom inside. "I need to know where Tom met her and what might have motivated her to contact him. Charlie Day thinks it has something to do with the Maquis."
"It does." Janeway slid open a drawer and pulled out a much-stained folder containing a sheaf of papers. She tossed it on the table. The cover sheet was marked 'Declassified;' over-stamping what had once been 'Top Secret: Nebula.'
"This the file on Project Nebula, B'Elanna. That was the program I used to pull your husband out of career oblivion in New Zealand to track down the Val Jean. Prison had screwed him up badly and he needed a place to recover and prepare. So we decided that place should be near a Maquis recruiting area, a region known for picking up strays, lost souls, and riff raff who were interested in joining a cause."
Torres recalled those Maquis days. "I resembled that remark back then." There was a lot of truth in those six words.
"True at the time, B'Elanna. I suppose even Starfleet can be considered a cause. I think we all go through that at some point. Joining something more important than ourselves. Anyway, Tom went to New Sydney, a large mining colony rife with labor strikes and disgruntled workers. Prime Maquis recruiting grist when you can pick through lots of overworked, underpaid, and pissed off young people with strong backs and arms. Tom Paris fit in as a cocky pilot and disgraced Starfleet officer looking to prove himself. While he was sniffing around, his boyish charm allowed him to meet Yanas Tigan, the very wealthy mining magnate. She had a seventeen-year-old daughter, Ezri. When you read Tom's report, he wasn't shy about describing her. Same height and hair as you but with blue-steel eyes. You've seen her current official photo, I take it."
"Yes, Admiral. She's beautiful." Torres was reading carefully while listening intently.
"Again yes but she's no rival, B'Elanna. We both know your husband. He loves you more than, well...I know Tom."
B'Elanna looked up and bit her lip. "I hope he still does. I can't take this much longer."
Janeway reached out and touched her hand. "Be patient with him. Take it slowly. It will take time but it will work out. I'm confident in you both. As for those two, they are doing nothing illegal right now. No Starfleet regulation prohibits a married officer from having a close friendship with a single officer of any gender and even going on vacation together, if it's consensual. But the courts-martial line gets crossed when sex is involved or if there is a senior-subordinate relationship violation. You know Starfleet is very sensitive to any hanky-panky that affects discipline and I don't think it is the case here. But I do recall two unmarried young officers having 200 reprimands combined on Voyager, all for inappropriate behavior in Jeffries tubes, corridors, and other places like your private work station. B'Elanna."
The half-Klingon flashed her teeth and offered a shrug. "Sorry, Ma'am! We were kind of out of control back then. Aliens were on board messing with us, as you recall."
Janeway smiled. "Of course. And also your raging hormones on a very small ship." Janeway flipped through some pages and stopped at a particular spot. "We were watching Tom carefully because then-Lieutenant Tuvok did not trust him. So I can tell you that all of his movements and actions are in here. There was nothing sexual, although Ezri was infatuated with him. A world-class crush. No surprise there, given Tom Paris. But that is not why she contacted him now, as far as I can tell anyway. It is what he did for her then."
B'Elanna was all ears. "What Tom did for her?"
"Yes. You know she is a Trill. And she should remind you of someone who was also rebellious by nature and lacked a father figure. Like you, she was desperate to get away from her domineering mother. The Maquis recruiters offered a regimented family-type environment with a warrior ethos. Here was a place to devote herself to something bigger than herself and vent her frustration. A small shuttle was waiting that would have taken her to a major Maquis ship. But Tom talked her out of it."
"Why?" That was odd. Why should Tom get involved? That was her business.
"Why. Let's think about it. From his report they hit it off as friends. They liked each other; she more than that obviously. When he found out what she was up to he told her that unlike him she was too good to waste her life doing that. She needed more structure, yes, but the Maquis was a rough and tumble outfit that required physical and mental toughness. You know that, B'Elanna. You were Maquis. So he told her they would eat her like a jelly doughnut and throw her out or she would die very fast in battle facing the Cardassians. Tom convinced her to apply for the Academy instead with the promise that if she was accepted she would go and if not then she could join the Maquis."
"Big brother Tommy." No surprise to her. Tom cared about people.
"Exactly. Big brother Tommy. That's one reason she contacted him. But not the main one. It's because she owes him her life. The cell she was going to join was Chakotay's. Yours."
Now Torres' eyes rose. "Oh my God! They were all butchered! The Cardassians murdered them!"
She nodded. "B'Elanna, if Ezri Dax had joined that Maquis cell she would be dead now one way or another. Her reaction to the Maquis deaths was very similar to yours but less dark. She still grieves for shipmates on the Val Jean she never knew but understands that could have been her without Tom's intervention. I am not a Betazoid counselor or even a Trill one but I know love when I see it. She is in love with Tom because she owes him her life." Then she stared at Torres. "And how many times did Tom Paris save yours?"
More than Torres cared to count. The Lieutenant Commander said nothing, drumming the table with her fingernails as her mind recalled events she preferred to bury.
"She's not a home wrecker, B'Elanna. When then-Lieutenant Dax heard, as all of Starfleet did, what happened to you on Narcissus and then Tom's returning alone later, she reached out to be a lifeline for a man she admired. A man who had lost his wife and was suffering intense emotional pain."
Torres started to sniff. Janeway walked over and hugged her shoulder. "It's okay, B'Elanna. There are some tissues in that box." B'Elanna snagged one and blew her nose.
Janeway waited a moment and then continued. "Like Tom, Ezri has a very good heart. She went through the joining with Dax due to a medical emergency even though she never wanted to do that. But she has honor and a sense of duty just like you. She is one hell of a woman and a damned good officer, B'Elanna, also like you. She is not your enemy."
"No!" Torres slammed her fist on the table but Janeway was unmoved. "Sorry, Admiral, but there is one major difference here. She wants my husband! That does nothing to endear her to me in the least." She had stopped crying but was anything but calm, her chest was heaving from anger.
Janeway had seen this reaction from Torres many times before and let it ride. "Perhaps she does want him. The question is does he want her? And you are going to find out. You asked for my help so here is what I can do. Miral is already a Starfleet brat and won't mind when you tell her to stay with Tom's family for a while. You are going to Deep Space Nine. Voyager has engine problems and will be there for at least a couple weeks for repairs but probably more. It will take you a month to reach the space station and on the way you can study slipstream engineering manuals until you puke. Of course, you like reading that stuff so I doubt you will."
B'Elanna really smiled, for the first time since seeing Miral once more.
"They say that timing is everything, B'Elanna, and you won the lottery. Voyager's Chief Engineer Mike Borzcik has wanted to rotate for months now. I will have orders cut today approving his request to go to Deep Space Two to be with his girlfriend. Voyager will need a Chief Engineer to repair the ship. In my professional assessment and given the circumstances I am convinced it should be someone who knows that vessel intimately and can work efficiently and effectively with Captain Chakotay. And, of course, also with his First Officer. Do you know anyone like that, Lieutenant Commander Torres? It's a short list of one."
A series of very rapid nodding now. "Ma'am, I owe you bigtime!" She got up and hugged Janeway.
Janeway hugged her back and was beaming herself. But then she got serious and shook her head. She held Torres at arms length. "No, B'Elanna. Without your engineering skill and devotion to duty none of us would have made it home. We all owe you more than we can ever repay. Consider this a down payment."
/
Tom Paris had not been to Deep Space Nine since 2367, when he visited as a junior cadet on tour. Built as a refinery by using Cardassian-controlled Bajoran slave labor the same year he was born in 2346, the place had changed considerably over the years. The interior of the main reception hall had been completely renovated after having been turned into a battlefield during the Dominion Wars. Now the place was all spit-and-polish with shiny duranium sheeting, hanging gardens, enriched air, waterfalls, vendors, restaurants, and shops.
It was at one particular restaurant that he was enjoying a break and waiting for lunch with Lieutenant Commander Ezri Dax. He did not have to wait long when she arrived still wearing her Niners baseball uniform from holodeck practice. She loved baseball and played outfield, prompting Tom the music aficionado to send her a copy of John Fogerty's twentieth-century song, 'Centerfield.' She was thrilled and accessed it on her PADD whenever she got ready to play a game.
Now she ran up to him as if she was a teenager in love, for this was the first time she had seen him in months. He stood up and grinned as she threw herself into his arms, kissing him furiously and not really caring that his response was only half-hearted. She wrote that off to fatigue. Tom had been on a very demanding mission in an important position on Voyager and was now overseeing the engine overhaul as Borzcik prepared to step down for reassignment. As it was turning out, the ship would indeed require a tow back to the San Francisco shipyard on Earth because the issues were far more extensive than what had been first identified.
"Tom! I missed you so much! There are so many things I need to tell you. But first, have you accepted my proposal yet? I love you, you know."
Tom laughed and shook his head. Persistent, this one. A lot like him when chasing someone he still loved and how long that took to win her heart. B'Elanna's return to Earth was unexpected but Ro Laren had been right in her assessment that she would come back if she could. Inside Tom knew it was just for Miral's sake and not for him. Things would be very awkward now, as the two arranged custody and visitation but maybe B'Elanna might be reasonable. He was not going to divorce her unless she demanded it; he said he would never leave her and that was true, at least that way. That also meant he was not going to marry Ezri Dax.
He half-listened as they ordered lunch, thinking through the complexities of what it meant to get involved with this stunning brunette even for pleasant company. There was of course the now Klingon diplomat Worf, son of Mogh, to consider. He had been married to her; actually Jadzia Dax. Jadzia was killed in 2374 but even ten years later things were still unsettled between him and Ezri who now had the symbiont within her. Tom had experienced his share of pissed off Klingons first-hand and he knew Worf would not be happy if he knew what was going on. He flinched then started laughing.
Ezri was looking at him with a longing in her eyes, wondering what was so funny. She was holding his hand now and he let her.
"Tom, I have some plans for us tomorrow. I know you are busy but you can also make time. I want you to come watch me play baseball. After the game we are going to have what used to be called a 'cookout' with Captain Sisko resurrecting his culinary talents by providing some creole gumbo plus the usual hamburgers, hotdogs, potato salad, beans, and even apple pie for dessert. And cold beer! All provided by the losing team!"
"Sounds good. I'll come if I can." He might be able to make it depending on how long it took to pull the exhaust resonators. He prayed the slipstream drive core wasn't cracked. The six transfer tubes could also be an issue. But he was no engineer. He missed his wife's ability with engines and not just that.
The counselor in Ezri was soon at work, for she saw Tom fade into work once more. "Tom, you look like you are a billion light years away. I want you to schedule a session with me. We need to talk through this personal matter so you can deal with your feelings. I only want what is best for you, for us, and for Miral. You know that."
He nodded automatically without thinking. In truth he was actually being distracted now by the ruckus coming from a passenger tube disgorging travelers from Earth via Q'onoS. About a month journey if not more. Normally Tom would have paid no attention to a routine ship docking except for the reason that this time Captain Chakotay was standing there with Chief Engineer Borzcik and a small contingent of Klingon dignitaries.
"Tom? Tom?" Dax knocked on the First Officer's head. "Ezri to Paris, come in Paris! Lunch is here. You need to eat it before it gets too warm. Or too cold. This Bajoran decapus salad really needs to be eaten fresh and over ice. The Hasperat and lorpa beans are very nice today. Not overcooked like usual. Tom?"
He smirked but did not shift his gaze. "I'm okay, Ezri. I was just wondering what the Captain was doing over there."
Dax shrugged and played with her fork. "Whatever starship captains do! I mean, he makes his own time. You better eat something." But now she turned her head as well, for the din increased. Both she and Tom now watched with interest, mesmerized by what was taking place.
People exited the tube with bags in hand, the typical mix of civilians and Fleeters. Then came a very tall Klingon male wearing the robes of State. He met with the Klingons who rendered official pleasantries. Tom did not recognize him but Ezri did.
"Worf!" She stood up, said excuse me, and walked over to him. After a brief and tepid greeting, the entire group departed for a conference room.
That spectacle was followed by the emergence of a smirking woman wearing the gold Starfleet uniform of an Engineer. Tom could not tell who she was at this distance. But he knew she was a short brunette and walked with a purpose, very erect despite the large and heavy looking duffle bag over her shoulder. Obviously strong.
Now that bag hit the deck. The woman officer saluted then ran into the arms of Captain Chakotay who was hugging the life out of her as he spun her around. After what appeared to be tremendous laughter from both parties, she was now shaking hands with Lieutenant Borzcik but not until after he saluted her and she returned it.
Tom's brain churned. She outranks a Lieutenant. Then an inner voice suddenly told Paris that he should leave. Lunch uneaten, he got up but did not get far when his Captain hailed him. She was being escorted over to Paris, Chakotay to her immediate right in his position as the senior officer and Borzcik traipsing along behind struggling to carry the large duffle bag.
Tom's mind raced as the woman officer walked towards him, her face searching his for a reaction. He provided none as he stood there, now fully recognizing who was approaching. B'Elanna! This is a fucking conspiracy.
Now the parties stopped about one meter apart. Chakotay spoke calmly. "Commander Paris, I think you know Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres. She has been assigned to assist us with the engine rebuild, as our new Chief Engineer. Lieutenant Borzcik has been relieved of duty to take some leave before his reassignment. I will need you to arrange for a going away party."
B'Elanna gave a quick nod and then said, "Commander." That was it. No salute. No handshake. Just 'Commander.' A virtual glacier.
Tom blinked; his blood became very warm as he gathered her scent. Torres was doing the same thing and inwardly was going crazy; her blood was hot just like his. The blood bond pull was now unfettered with no drugs to inhibit anything. But Torres knew her husband far too well and patience was required, not lust. No, this patient cat and mouse game was something she knew how to play, thank you very much. After all, they had danced around each other for four years until she admitted she loved him and that only took a near-death experience. Three more years passed until he finally popped the question when she was about to end their lengthy love affair. She did not know how long this reconciliation would take but she knew one thing: this time, he would crack first.
Voyager's Captain continued, speaking to B'Elanna. "And that woman walking away with Ambassador Worf is Deep Space Nine's counselor, Lieutenant Commander Ezri Dax."
"Charmed, I'm sure. Perhaps we will meet later. But hopefully not." Meow.
Chakotay raised his eyebrows but continued on as if everything was normal. "B'Elanna, you must be tired and you certainly want to freshen up and get something to eat. I can have Commander Paris show you to your guest quarters on Voyager. They were completely redecorated, diplomat class now with a large bed. A very large and comfortable bed. And a hot tub with real water! We've moved up in the world."
Before Tom could answer, Torres did that for him. "That won't be necessary, Captain. No need to trouble the First officer. But thanks for the offer. Deck 2, I am assuming?" Chakotay nodded in the affirmative. "Then I can find it on my own, Sir. After I get settled I will coordinate with Lieutenant Borzcik for a change-over briefing."
Tom stared again. This was becoming a habit. "Change-over briefing?"
Lieutenant Commander Torres smirked. "Yes, Commander. A change-over briefing between incoming and outgoing Chief Engineers given Mike's reassignment. The Holographic images he sent me of the damage to the slipstream engines suggest they failed due to microfractures in the benamite crystals. A detailed discussion with Mike who was there at the time and a computer recreation of the event will help us to ascertain the specific failings and provide correct remedies. Still, I believe that our discussion will lead to necessitating a complete engine and system tear down and swap out followed by extensive dry dock testing to spec under load. My assessment is based purely on provided data to date, of course. Commander."
"Of course." Tom looked at Chakotay who just shrugged.
B'Elanna walked around a bit, as Tom's eyes followed and took in her shapely form. She knew he was staring at her but ignored it. "But everything tells me there is a manufacturing defect that caused the microfracture issue. That initial cracking meant that the recrystallization matrix improperly formed due to a weakened plasma mix. The injectors sucking up the weakened mixture meant a poor burn and increased engine stress, thus no slipstream was created even though the engines were working at full capacity. A full load without a proper fuel mix led to more extensive crystal damage and ultimately quantum slipstream failure. I will need to run a series of level five diagnostics to ascertain the specific problem but I believe I am correct. These particular quantum engines are more advanced than the basic Xindi design and certainly a bit more sensitive to stress."
She paused to watch Paris' face as he nodded his understanding. A thoughtful expression then appeared on hers when he made eye contact with her. Looking him dead in the eye and leaning upwards just a bit to close the distance between them considerably, she spoke deliberately, softly, and with confidence. "I suppose another way to put it, Commander, is that unwanted and uninvited interference in the natural flow of things created intense pressure that led to overpowering internal stress and caused something that had once been perfectly aligned to be torn apart. Things are severely damaged now, yes, but the situation is still very much reversible. I am confident that over time we will reverse the current situation to both our satisfactions." Then she licked her lips suggestively.
Tom stared, his mouth dry now as his tongue unconsciously moved along his own lips. He had not heard B'Elanna talk like that in years and he was actually getting turned on. He was also wondering about what to make of what was obvious innuendo.
Seeing Tom's reaction, Torres added for good measure, "As with many things on board my old ship, my practiced hand is often required to relieve stress. As you know, I am very, very good at that." She smiled and stepped back a bit while Chakotay thought he was going to burst. She's good. Real good.
For his part, Tom fought hard to keep his composure. He nearly broke out laughing.
Torres grabbed her duffle bag as if it was filled with feathers. "So, now I have been assigned to Voyager as Chief Engineer. I will report to First Officer Paris, as soon as I am cleaned up and arranged to meet with Borzcik. See you on board, Commander." With that she headed for the boarding ramp, being careful to give her ass more than a slight wiggle. Avoiding a glace backwards that she really wanted to give, she was grinning broadly as she entered Voyager once again after so many years. I wonder what Captain Proton is thinking right about now?
/
It took two months to tear the complex engines apart just to get them prepared for what would essentially be a major overhaul on Earth. Torres was able to find two older warp drives in a nearby Federation scrapyard and rebuilt them into one functioning engine. After the install, it produced a reliable warp three. That was enough to avoid a tow and power the Starship to San Francisco. It would take a bit less than four more months to get there.
Time passed quickly and now Voyager was just two weeks out of the refit dry dock on Earth. Many things had transpired in the lives of Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres. And Ezri Dax and Worf. And Charlie Day and Neenah Flaxes.
In order of least complexity, Charlie indeed popped the question and Neenah unsurprisingly said 'yes.' They were married in the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere, one of the oldest churches in Rome and built around 350 AD. It was a small ceremony attended mostly by the crew of the USS Constellation and some of Charlie's Academy pals and his close relatives. By all accounts the bride was beautiful and they were honeymooning along the Bay of Naples in an Italian resort town called Sorento.
Then there was Dax and Worf or more like Dax and Worf and Paris. Well, that relationship ended but not without a lot of emotional pain on many parts. As it turned out Worf was there because a devious B'Elanna had contacted him when enroute to Q'onoS. She had met Worf once before after her brief Academy days ended with her return to the Klingon home world before becoming Maquis. Now she tracked him down through the Klingon Department of State. After filling Worf in on what his deceased wife's symbiont was doing with Tom through Ezri, Klingon honor could not stand Dax being involved with a married man.
The verbal fight that followed was epic in the sense that it was Klingon ritual that ended the Dax/Paris relationship, such as it was. Worf told Paris he must take the Klingon Oath of Union to claim Ezri Dax but not until he divorced Torres in public by screaming 'N'Gos tlhogh cha!' and then spitting at her. Tom refused to do that, which meant he would now have to fight Worf. The Klingon former Starfleet officer claimed his honor was sullied due to Dax having been his mate, albeit within Jadzia. As a half Klingon, B'Elanna knew this was mostly theater but enjoyed watching Tom sweat and Ezri Dax plead for his life. Worf agreed to avoid personal combat, as long as Ezri ended what he called 'foolishness' and 'dishonorable' behavior. She did. Worf left the station with B'Elanna's eternal thanks. A few months later Lieutenant Commander Ezri Dax was seen in the company of Deep Space Nine's Doctor Julian Bashir, her crush or love or whatever it was with Tom now over.
On board Voyager, both B'Elanna and Tom had avoided each other as often as possible initially, which unbeknownst to both of them was making them crazy. But Torres told herself to hold out because she did not want him to push her away. After three weeks of Tom's icy stares and only official conversations she nonetheless began to give up hope, sobbing in her quarters or talking things over with Chakotay.
But ever so slowly her husband began to change.
Given all of the work she was doing while at Deep Space Nine, she did not have time at first to give Tom Miral's gifts. So after three weeks into what she called a 'marital blizzard' she finally did. By coincidence the place she chose to do it was in Sickbay. While she was undergoing a routine physical, Tom stopped in to talk to her about the harmonic inducer in Engine Two. Opening her ever-present tool bag for her PADD, she spotted and handed him Miral's note and the holopicture. After a brief smile and even perhaps a glistening eye, her husband put on that mask of his once more. But B'Elanna noticed what turned out to be the first fissure. He left kissing the picture. Miral magic.
That event was soon followed by several First Officer 'official visits' to Engineering where Tom hand-delivered routine PADD messages and helm reports in person. He paused to talk a bit more to her each time and on the third one she scratched her nose for two minutes until she noticed that he noticed she was wearing his wedding ring. His reaction was typically blank but he was also obviously pleased. How did she know? She watched him leave rubbing that finger on his left hand; he knew something very important was missing.
Soon thereafter was lunch in the officer's mess to discuss construction of a temporary warp core cradle to house the replacement engine and its effect on the helm. Then his helping her for hours to calibrate the newly installed warp coils. That was followed by a drink with him in the bar to congratulate her on a job well-done.
Then came those frequent and telling glances in the corridors that left each other breathless.
Just when things seemed to be moving along Tom turned ice cold. Two weeks of almost nothing passed while the ship was finally underway, which Torres knew was Paris being both very busy and also diffident. Her worry lessened when she caught him staring at her in staff meetings like she was a piece of ripe fruit ready to be plucked. She was. More than ready.
Then they passed by Alpha Centaury as they limped towards Earth's solar system. At the time B'Elanna was sitting up in her luxurious bed midway into Gamma shift, relaxing in her nightgown while accessing her personal logs from those long-past years on Voyager. Her analytical mind was going over numerous past events concerning Tom and how he had so subtly shown her he cared before they were married. As she read, it suddenly dawned on her what he was doing now. Her husband was wooing her once again in his way, being patient as he had been before by testing the waters. He was trying to decide if she wanted this or was it just him. The pattern was there; she saw it now. She had also found those two intertwined Tarkanian roses on her pillow, the ones she now gently caressed and sniffed. Tom had once given her flowers just like them when they were dating. Her knees came up and she rested her head sideways upon them. She could not stop grinning.
A week later Tom was alone in the officer's lounge reading something on two PADDs at once. He was so fully engrossed that he did not see her walk up behind him and look over his shoulder. Torres was expecting Paris to be immersed in complicated reports. Instead, one PADD had pictures of her in a blue tank swim suit that were taken while they were in a holodeck resort. The other was a section from the Klingon novel Women Warriors at the River of Blood, the part where 'Rorg turned his fierce eye upon her, and M'Nea felt her heart begin to quicken, even as her hand went to her dagger.' When B'Elanna asked Tom if he had a knife she could borrow, he literally fell out of his chair. He started laughing and she did too, the first time they had done that together in years. When she helped him up he did not let go of her for quite a while. The look in his eye showed his love for her. And a lot of pain. She was feeling it too.
Janeway was right; it would take time. Precisely one more month to be exact. So now, after months of patiently waiting for this moment to come, B'Elanna was standing at the entrance to a very familiar place, Voyager's Holodeck 1. Beyond that door was her husband, having asked her to dinner. He had the officer's mess cater it, for being the Number One on a Starship had its perks.
She was not surprised when he asked her to dress casually but that threw her for a loop because she did not know what to wear. Too little preparation would signal one thing and dressed to the nines meant something else. This was like high school all over again and she was giddy. So she settled for a plain white wrap blouse with a medium-length but tight black skirt, black panty hose, black panties, black bra, and black heels. Makeup and hair perfect, as always. Perfume; his favorite. And that chain with a ring on it hung around her neck, just in case.
The door opened and what Torres saw took her breath away, for she was not expecting this. Before her was Sakari IV, not the dark caverns but the wooded glade. It was the place where they had almost 'done it.' She recognized it immediately despite her condition then, which was near death. There was the cave entrance where Tom came to tell her that things were not quite how they had intended. This was the exact place where she had flung him onto the ground and straddled him, grinding her groin into his and laughing as she felt his excitement. Not much more detail than that had stuck in her sex-driven brain. But Tom had remembered sylvan trees, numerous blooming flowers of all kinds, and a waterfall, all of which were there.
A large table held her favorite dishes starting with Italian wedding soup for the appetizer. There was fried chicken, potato salad with paprika, tossed green salad with Italian dressing, and fresh bread but no garlic. She noticed that immediately. Tiramisu for dessert. Wine or sparkling water with each course. Hot coffee and tea in insulated bottles. Linen table cloth and napkins, crystal stemware, china plates, and beautiful ornate silverware, all from the Senior Command larder.
And, of course, Tom. A Tom Paris who also took her breath away. He was walking towards her now with a dozen red roses in his right hand, dressed in a black silk sport coat, a dark blue silk shirt open at the collar, black silk trousers pleated and cuffed, and polished black shoes. He had worn this outfit years ago when he first took her into another program, Lake Como. She was so in love with him then, just as she was now.
"You look absolutely beautiful, B'Elanna." He handed her the roses and kissed her cheek, not wanting to get lost in her just yet.
She smiled. "Thank you but you would say that if I was wearing sack cloth." She placed the roses in the offered vase. He thought of everything.
"It would still be the truth. You like it?"
Those brown eyes took in the detail and it brought back mixed memories. "Yes. But why Sakari IV, if I might ask?"
He took her arm and put it in his, leading her to the dinner table. "Because we left some unfinished business there."
Torres did not catch on at first but then it dawned on her what he meant. "You weren't so eager back then, helmboy." He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down as he scooted it forward. Then he sat down.
"White, red, or rosé? The white is a little too sweet, the red is bold with a nice finish, and the rosé is, well, pleasingly domestic." He poured their selection, red.
"We weren't married either, B'Elanna. I was in love with you and wanted to take things slow because I did not know how you felt about me. You kept pushing me away and I should have given up on you. But I couldn't. If we had sex you would have hated me later and that would have torn me to pieces. But I was going to give in because you needed my help. Vorik changed both our minds. Umm...what shall we toast to, Lieutenant Commander Torres?"
B'Elanna thought about what he said and was formulating an appropriate toast to a reconciling married couple with a future once again. She felt the bite mark he had given her on their wedding night. Tom was her best friend; her soulmate.
"To renewed friendship, endless possibilities, and a long-life together, Commander Paris."
"I concur." They clinked glasses and started on the soup.
"You hurt me bad on Gen, B'Ella." Nice flavor, just enough salt.
She fiddled with a tiny meatball. Broth needs more salt. "I'm sorry, Tom. But when you are drugged with that kind of stuff fighting each other for control and he is whispering in your ear at the same time..." She stopped and looked into his eyes. "Tom, over three years with that pig was no picnic. I was having endless nightmares about you and Miral, past life experiences, and living a life that was not me as somebody's tree ornament. I came a billion light years for you, if you think about it. And also for Miral. And you think I don't love you! Oh, try the salad, the dressing has a little peppery snap to it. And I remember everything, even that damned dressing-down you gave me. I…didn't deserve that." She wiped her lips and had a swig of wine. Drained the glass, actually.
Her husband nodded sympathetically. "I was a bit harsh then, true. But at the time, I meant it. Every word. I came a billion light years for you too and you kicked me in the teeth." He put the empty soup bowl aside. "More wine?"
She held out her glass and shook it a bit, indicating 'yes.' He poured. "I like this fried chicken, Tom. The coating is spicy and crunchy just like I make it. Need to get the replicator recipe." Then she stopped and stared. Tom munched some chicken, not knowing what to do next.
B'Elanna continued. "I hate the Delta Quadrant, Tommy. I never want to go there again. Our lives were nearly ruined there, despite us finding each other. Between ALICE and Steth and voices and monuments and Borg and Vidiians and crazy robots and weapons and mirrors…and why are you looking at me like that?" Tom had stopped eating, his fork suspended in mid-bite.
"Because you are so damned beautiful. And I love you B'Elanna Paris. I love you more than even this potato salad, which is quite good actually." He took another bite and grinned.
"If that's the wine talking, Tom Torres, please let it continue." They laughed. Then she noticed he was rubbing his finger again.
"Feeling naked, Tom? You know, gold can be warming to the touch." She lifted the chain off her neck. "I believe you lost this ring a billion light years from here. I am now returning it to its rightful place, if you want it back."
He held out his shaking hand, so relieved to see it once more. "I…do." Opening the chain with a grin, B'Elanna slipped off the ring. "You'll have to come much closer, I just can't reach."
Voyager's First Officer didn't move except to slide his chair a bit further back. "Nope. Sorry, I'm stuck to this seat. An old back injury I will have to tell you about. Here, I saved a place on my lap for that nice rump of yours. As I recall, it was a perfect fit."
Torres laughed and hoped it still was. She moved over and sat down, immediately feeling something more than his body warmth. Slipping the ring on his finger, she gave him a very satisfying kiss and then a very suggestive look. "So Tommy…umm…are you signaling something?"
He kissed her. "Yes, Honey. It's time for dessert." He slid her off him onto her heels and stood up.
"Not tiramisu?" She giggled.
"Something sweeter than that." He took her by the hand. "Shall we move to that blanket? Years ago, you picked that spot and threw me to the ground, as I recall. I think it is time we try it out."
/
Magnus Dedix had not been in this galaxy very long but he did not like it already. His clammy skin indicated he was not acclimated at all and the food was terrible. It had been a long journey to Terra or whatever they called it. Two months on Bajor after hesitatingly coming through the only remaining transport portal to Galaxy 342-12-998ZR-HRT-12, then a month in a safe house in B'hala, then four months to 'Earth,' and now living in this smelly, fog-bound city called San Francisco.
Dedix recalled being hired for this job because he was human-looking Regales by birth and also a well-experienced criminal with a solid reputation for being efficient and successful in the Gen underworld. Nothing was beneath him. Except killing, of course.
The motive for this job was pure revenge upon B'Elanna Torres and Neenah Flaxes. But he could care less. The purpose of this mission was a simple one, as far as he was concerned and he had been well paid in Rhodium, cash on the barrel head in advance. First he was to deliver a sealed folder to Neenah. That was now sitting in her mailbox awaiting a signature, registered delivery. Second was a quick grab and then head back to Bajor by express private shuttle. Once back on Bajor it was through the still undiscovered and fully operational Gen transport portal, prized package in hand.
He had planned this all out in advance and rehearsed it several times. No sweat. Everything was covered. All was in place to make the snatch.
So now on this Thursday afternoon he stood on a street corner directly across from Starfleet Prep Academy. His cohorts had delayed a certain school bus by cracking an airbrake line in the underground parking garage. As the maintenance crew repaired the damage, the impatient children were out front at the school's transfer pickup point doing what kids do, milling around, talking, playing, and teasing. A few teachers were there as adults came by to pick up their children, not willing to wait for the bus.
But no one was there to pick up Miral Paris, or so Dedix thought.
He looked at Miral's picture. She was easy to spot with those forehead ridges of hers. He looked over the thinning crowd and there she was with school bags in one hand while playing with one of those PADDs in the other. As he started across the street something she was reading caused her to start smiling. Then she was laughing. Now she jumped up and down in a circle. Something had obviously pleased her and she was very excited.
Dedix walked even closer now, trying to look like somebody's father come to claim his child as his boots clicked on the street pavement. The drug-soaked handkerchief in his hand was ready and a phony hovercab was standing by. This grab would be very easy indeed.