USS Enterprise, Bridge
B'Elanna stepped onto the bridge before the Enterprise departed from the starbase. She wanted to familiarize herself with its systems as much as possible before her first senior officers' meeting, especially after the embarrassment of getting lost on the way to her own quarters. She also wanted to watch Tom take the Federation's flagship out of dock.
She looked around and smiled when she saw her husband sitting at the helm, concentrating intently on the panel in front of him, and glanced around the expansive bridge. Although she had repaired and designed on many ships, she'd only actually served on two. And this one was nothing like either of them. It was solemn, quiet, the embodiment of decorum. She felt privileged to be among the ranks of the accomplished Enterprise crew, and she had to remind herself that this was now her ship.
She wanted to say a quiet hello to him, but no one on the bridge was talking. On the Val Jean people didn't talk; they yelled as consoles exploded and alarms sounded. On Voyager Janeway and Chakotay had always chatted – though about what, Chakotay would never tell her. And she and Tom had exchanged wisecracks on many occasions. In fact, Tom had regularly kept the Voyager bridge entertained with his one-liners. She looked over at him now, his head down and brow furrowed. What could he possibly be concentrating on so deeply? Then B'Elanna realized: he was nervous.
"I'll be damned."
"Is there a problem, Commander Torres?"
She looked up at the security chief. "No, Commander." She finished her work and took another glance at Tom, hoping he'd find a buddy like Harry soon to help him lighten up. She stepped onto the turbolift and wondered if engineering would be more exciting.
Before she could set a foot into her new department, someone was in her face, greeting her. "Commander Torres, I'm Ensign Vktaca. Welcome to the Enterprise."
"As you were, Ensign." She wasn't used to officers standing at attention for her. The team at the starbase was just that – a team – and they respected her, but she was no figurehead to them.
"Commander," called a much friendlier voice, "I'm Lieutenant Powell, your assistant. Can I show you around?"
B'Elanna looked at the brown-haired human coming out of a service conduit, the man who had also been up for the job of chief engineer, but who was now welcoming her so politely. She'd been in this position before, on Voyager, when Chakotay had persuaded Janeway to pick her over Lieutenant Carey. Joe Carey had ended up being her greatest ally and supporter. If he had harbored any resentment over her appointment, it didn't show after the first five minutes, and for that B'Elanna had always respected and appreciated him. She saw something similar in Powell's eyes now as she sized him up.
Of course, he'd be no Vorik. The thought always made her a little wistful. She'd once hated the younger Vulcan for trying to bond with her during pon farr (though in hindsight she had to appreciate that it was the catalyst for her relationship with Tom). As an assistant, though, Vorik was top-notch: full of good ideas that he wasn't afraid to express, an indefatigable worker, always willing to take her criticisms and misdirected anger with a grain of salt. She was glad Tom had persuaded her to patch up their relationship; she and Vorik made a good team. No one on Starbase 174 compared to him in B'Elanna's eyes, and, she suspected, no one ever would.
She pushed those thoughts aside to concentrate on more pressing matters. She was certain the Enterprise engineering crew would suffice, but there was a larger need at hand, one that was sitting several decks up on the bridge. As she followed Powell toward the warp core, he was explaining the duty roster, but she wasn't really listening. She was sizing him up. He may not have been another Vorik, but he was tall and friendly. There was a glint in his eyes that she knew indicated a good sense of humor. He seemed perfect. She started to cook up her plan.
Earth, Tel Aviv, Residence of Ben and Mildred Goldberg
The highlight of the family reunion was dinner at Uncle Ben and Aunt Mildred's, attended by various extensions of Libby's family. "Dinner" was perhaps an understatement for it, as the common room of their home had been turned into a veritable mess hall, with five tables and at least forty people dining together. Everyone was talking loudly and emphatically, and the carafes of wine (the real thing, not synthehol) were being drained with gusto. Harry loved the animation; it was so different from his own family's way of interacting.
"You know," Uncle Ben said, "for thousands of years, people have been going up and down the mountains in this part of Earth to look for answers. Ancient legends often told stories of men talking to the gods that way."
Harry listened, unsure of where Ben was going. From across the dinner table, Libby passed him a carafe of wine in order to make eye contact, to reassure him.
Ben continued to him in a conspiratorial whisper, so the others couldn't hear, "Did you find your answer on the mountain, Harry?" Harry looked at him, confused, until Ben clarified, "A ring, Harry! She needs a ring!"
"I don't know if we're ready for that, Ben," he said earnestly. "She's still thinking about what it means to be with a Starfleet officer."
Ben nodded solemnly. "Don't give her too much time to think about it."
USS Enterprise, Main Engineering
B'Elanna logged off the console she'd been working at with satisfaction and looked up at Powell. "Lieutenant, I think it's time to review those crew reports and get out of here. Do you feel like getting a drink?"
Powell's face scrunched up. "Commander, I – uh – I'm sorry – I'm married," he said awkwardly.
B'Elanna resisted the urge to laugh. "So am I, Lieutenant, to the new helmsman. I actually wanted to introduce you to him. I think he could use a friend."
"Oh, in that case, sir, sure." Powell looked relieved.
"Don't call me 'sir,'" she instructed, leading him out of engineering.
"Ma'am," he corrected.
"Don't call me 'ma'am.'" She tapped her com badge as they waited for the turbolift. "Torres to Paris."
"Go ahead."
"Meet me for a drink when your shift is over, Lieutenant."
"On my way, sir," came Tom's reply.
Dokkara Prime, Archaeological Institute, Lecture Hall
Chakotay was mid-sentence when the dean came bursting into the lecture hall, his face red and slightly sweaty. "Class dismissed," he commanded the students as Chakotay watched with surprise.
"Do you mind telling me what's going on?" he asked. He turned to the students. "Nobody's leaving. We still have forty minutes of class left."
The students half-stood, padds in hand, unsure of whose instructions to follow.
"I said this class is dismissed," Dean Danvers said again with authority. "Professor Chakotay, you and I need to have a conversation. Now."
This time the students responded quickly. They were out the door in under a minute, with only a few curious glances back to see what was going to happen to their professor. When the door closed behind the last of them, Danvers slammed a padd down on the lectern.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded. "Tachyon scans in the Krylar system? Did you give any consideration at all to this institution before publishing this?"
"What?"
"Feldman and his entire wing have been working in the Krylar system for the last five years," Danvers barked. "They received a special research initiative prize from the Federation Council. And now you publish this drivel just discounting their entire project? How could you do that to your own colleague?"
"I'm sorry," Chakotay said evenly. "It was my understanding that we have academic freedom here."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that I'm free to write and publish what I think, based on my research and my principles. Feldman's learned a lot about Krylar, and I appreciate that. But he chooses to disregard the data collected by the stellar scientists in that sector. It is a fact that the tachyon scans are destabilizing the surrounding space and, consequently, the very ruins he's trying to study."
"The tachyon scans are the reason we found those ruins in the first place," Danvers argued. "If you want to debate subspace stability, you're in the wrong field. Your job here is to talk about arrowheads and talismans, you get me? And if you ever publish something that threatens this institution's work again, you will not have a job here."
Danvers turned on a heel and deserted the lecture hall, leaving Chakotay gaping after him.
USS Enterprise, Forward Viewing Lounge
"And then the deflector grid went down, but we punched through a hole in his shields –"
"Oh, no, did you lose inertial dampers?"
"No, no, we switched to manual–"
"And you used the Freda maneuver?"
"Yes!" They laughed.
B'Elanna had been listening to Tom and Powell try to top each other in we-almost-crashed-the-ship stories for a half an hour, and she was growing bored. Meanwhile, the stack of padds with crew reports hadn't been touched. She wanted to know how many people she had, what they had been working on, and what the most pressing concerns were – but clearly Powell wasn't going to be any help to her tonight.
Tom squeezed her thigh under the table as he listened to Powell talk about depolarizing the tritanium hull on a series two runabout. It was his way of telling her that, even though he wasn't paying attention to her, he hadn't forgotten she was there. He knew he and Powell were being rude, but there was something inherently likeable about Powell. He pictured them on the holodeck together, battling a two-hundred-foot dinosaur as it rampaged through Tokyo.
"Listen, Commander, Lieutenant–"
"Tom," Paris corrected him.
"Tom, this has been fun, but I try to talk to my wife Margaret and the boys every night at 1800." Powell set down his drink. "I'll see you around?"
"Yeah, definitely." After Powell left, Tom turned to B'Elanna and saw the expression on her face. "So you didn't get through those crew reports."
"You noticed." She collected the padds and rose. "I'm just glad you made a friend. Let's go see how Miral's first day went." She foisted the stack of padds into Tom's hands.
"Do I have to carry these?" he whined as he followed her out.
Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway
Her console was blinking, indicating that there was someone trying to com her, and Janeway wondered what bit of discretion had prevented her assistant from interrupting the meeting to alert her. She tried to refocus her attention on the two admirals seated across the table.
"You're the one who's been supervising the lab for six years, Owen," she said. "I think you probably have a better idea than any of us how to redirect the project."
Owen Paris smiled at his once protégée. "Nonetheless, Kathryn, since several of the team there seem devoted to you, we think you're the person to take charge." He cleared his throat slightly. "I wouldn't want the word to get around, but I am trying to get a few things off my plate these days."
"Don't tell me you're thinking about retirement," Admiral Hendricks said with disbelief.
"Not retirement, per se," Paris admitted. "Just clearing up a little free time to spend with my wife and the grandchildren."
"I'm sure they'll appreciate it," Janeway said amicably. "In that case I'm happy to have Pathfinder under my command. Reg Barclay talks my ear off about it enough, anyway." Her eyes flitted again to the console, and this time her colleagues noticed.
"Something interesting on that computer, Kathryn?" Hendricks teased. "Or are we just boring you?"
"I'm sorry, I have an incoming transmission, but I'm not sure who it's from," she replied, feeling a slight blush in her cheeks at having been caught by the men who had once been her mentors.
Hendricks stood up to leave. "We're finished here, anyway. Owen, you'll get Kathryn all the records on Pathfinder's recent research?"
"Of course," Paris replied, also rising. "I'll have Nicole get it to you by the end of the week." They headed for the door. "Give Professor Chakotay my regards, Kathryn," he called cheekily over his shoulder as he exited.
The blush grew as she activated the monitor. "Hi, sorry for the wait."
"You look like you've been caught red-handed," Chakotay commented.
"I have," she explained, "by Owen Paris. I wonder who told him about us?"
"Don't look at me," Chakotay quipped. "I know there's nothing about us to tell."
"That never stopped rumors before, Chakotay," she reminded him, smiling sweetly at the screen. They had grown much more flirtatious with each other, yet neither of them was willing to take the first step toward anything more. It felt somehow silly to her to think about having a relationship with someone light-years away and ten years in the past. But in the meantime, she valued their almost daily communication. "I got the dog."
"Good. It's good for you to have some company."
"Are you implying that I'm lonely?"
"I wouldn't dream of implying that," Chakotay said saucily. "I don't know what kind of company you keep when I'm not talking to you."
Her mouth fell open in surprise. "May I remind you that you are talking to a Starfleet admiral? Anyway, I've just been put in charge of Pathfinder. The only company I'll be keeping is Reg Barclay."
"Come to think of it," he said with an emphatic raise of his eyebrows, "I don't want to know what happens when I'm not around."
Me and Reg? she thought with some mild distaste. What was Chakotay up to? She could have continued the game of cat-and-mouse but decided to call him onto the carpet instead. "You seem especially audacious today."
Chakotay smiled. "Maybe it's the weather."
"Stay indoors," she ordered, narrowing her eyes.
Residence of Lieutenant Harry Kim
Libby placed a row of delicate kisses across his chest. "Harry, if that's what listening to your clarinet recital gets, I will attend once a week," she said, her voice drowsy with contentment.
"I don't have a recital once a week. You'll have to wait for once a year."
"Wait once a year to hear the clarinet or have good sex?"
"Very funny." Harry tumbled with her in the bed so that he was on top of her and took advantage of his superior position to tickle her just below the ribs. Libby shrieked and writhed uncontrollably, but he held her firmly in place. "Say you like the clarinet," he taunted, watching her face contort as he tickled her again.
"I like the clarinet," she conceded.
Satisfied, Harry released his grip and Libby slid out from under him, crying, "I don't like the clarinet!" She darted across the room, throwing any pillows and blankets she could find as roadblocks while Harry chased after her.
He caught her behind a support beam and pinned her against it. "Surrender!"
"Okay, okay, truce," Libby said, panting heavily. She held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Truce?"
Harry nodded, also catching his breath. "Truce." Libby tried to move away, and he grabbed her, but this time he held her tightly and kissed her – no tickling. Then he looked at her and saw that she was still laughing and said suddenly, "I want you to marry me."
The question caught her off-guard, and she sobered immediately. "Oh my god, what?" She looked into his eyes. "You're serious."
"I know we haven't been back together for a very long time," Harry said slowly, realizing that he was indeed serious and that this was going to be a moment that, one way or another, he'd remember for the rest of his life. "But we've known each other for years. You know everything about me. I love you, and I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and so I don't see why we should have to wait. Will you marry me?"
Libby's mouth was open slightly with surprise, but he could see in her eyes that she was moved. "Yes, Harry, yes."
USS Enterprise, Office of the Executive Officer
"I know it's a bit early in my assignment to request shore leave," Tom admitted Commander Rainier.
"A bit early? It's your first week on duty. This has to set some kind of record." At least Rainier was smiling.
"Well," Tom explained, "it's my best friend's wedding, and I know he really wants me to be there – I really want to be there – and since we're scheduled to be in that sector, the timing seemed…" He decided to borrow from the captain. "Fortuitous."
"You know our scheduled missions could get preempted at any time, right? There's no guarantee we'll actually be in the vicinity of Earth in seven months. It's a long ways off." Tom nodded. "What about Commander Torres?"
"She's also good friends with the guy who's getting married. You see, we all served together on Voyager, and, well, after that long lost in space together, it's really more like my kid brother's wedding."
"Voyager?" the first officer echoed. "I see. Any other noted figures going to be in attendance at this wedding?"
Tom smiled. "Admiral Janeway, no doubt, and one rather pushy mother of the groom."
Rainier laughed. "Well, we're not scheduled to be in orbit around Earth, but you can pilot your own shuttle, right?" He didn't wait for Tom to answer what they both knew was an obvious question. "If I give you two weeks of shore leave, will that be sufficient?"
"That would be more than sufficient," Tom said honestly.
"That would use up shore leave for the next year," Rainier warned, "for both of you."
"We're not really shore leave people." Where would we go? he wondered. We've never even taken shore leave before. And, anyway, our fun has always been on the holodeck. The Enterprise had three times the holodeck capacity as the starbase; Tom was certain they wouldn't need shore leave again for the next year.
"All right, Lieutenant, let me look this over. Dismissed."
Torres-Paris Family Quarters
"Our little Harry is growing up," B'Elanna said fondly as she looked at the image of Chakotay on the screen in front of her. "I can't believe it."
"Mommy, what is Harry doing?" Miral asked from the floor below her.
"Uncle Harry is getting married," B'Elanna explained. She turned back to the monitor. "So how about it, Chakotay? Will you try to come to the wedding?"
"Sure," he replied eagerly. "I haven't been to Earth in three years. I'd like to see Kathryn's house, too. She keeps urging me to visit." Before B'Elanna could even open her mouth to speak, he added quickly, "Don't say anything or I'll rip out your tongue and wear it as a belt."
"I thought you were a nonviolent person. Where did you learn to make threats like that?"
Chakotay grinned, revealing his dimples. "From you. When's this wedding happening anyway?"
"Not for seven months. Something about finishing a new sensor upgrade. Leave it to Harry to schedule his wedding around his work."
"Well, it gives us all time to get there. Miral, I guess the next time I see you, you'll be three years old?"
"My birthday is in two months and six days," she said firmly.
Chakotay and B'Elanna smiled at each other. "Well, don't tell Harry I told you," B'Elanna said finally. "I'm sure he wants to tell you himself."
Chakotay laughed at the idea. "B'Elanna, since when have any of you ever been able to keep a secret?"
