10.

Four hours later, Ridge finally convinced B'Elanna to get something to eat. To her surprise, as Ridge described a host of selections that they could get out of those cut-rate replicators, she felt her stomach grumble a bit. Then she remembered that she'd only had a cup of coffee that morning and a sandwich the night before-and maybe being on a ship that didn't have her running and screaming throughout the shift was shocking her system into considering regular nutrition. Then again, Ridge did seem to know the menu pretty well and was good at describing it. The only thing he didn't recommend was plomeek soup.

"Makes my fried oysters sound like fine cuisine," he snickered.

Either way, she finally assented to Ridge's suggestion, and was glad she did when she remembered she'd be helping install Mesler's communications array into the Guerdon's core subprocessor-a cruel little irony, that. She knew she should have at least a snack while she had the chance.

For that matter, she had a little time. Jerod had been right. Patching the impulse coils was as good as it could get without ripping the whole assembly out. There was nothing more she could do to them for the time being.

Maybe I can reconstruct the lateral drive conduits, take some of the pressure off... she mused as she climbed the access staircase, ignoring the remaining twinge in her knee, which had gotten worse since that morning. She'd tried not to push it, not wanting to end up in the lab again. She could tell the Vulcan was watching her gait every time they crossed paths. The ship doesn't need all thirty. I can re-route the port conduits, pull three and weld them...

Just as she'd expected and somewhat designed, she was neck-deep in repairs and plans, as she liked to be, but with one lingering problem: It wasn't really her job-not yet, according to their circumspect captain. Ridge and Jerod seemed happy to have a new engineer on hand, though; Maryl told her outright already that she wanted her there. B'Elanna didn't see anything negative in Savan so far.

In fact, she found herself liking the crew already, which was as surprising as it was...nice. Not that she could say she'd call any of them a friend so soon, but they were all agreeable and didn't seem fazed by her forthrightness. Rather, they seemed to appreciate it.

That didn't matter, though. The captain made the final decision. No matter what Ridge said about it, how Maryl felt about, they all admitted that the captain had the final say-the captain, raised Starfleet according to Ridge, and who could polish off whole bottles of scotch for dinner. The captain, who wouldn't give her a clear answer when they met, never asked her name, hardly met her eyes, escaped as soon as he could all three times she'd seen him, then sent the crew to "interview" her.

She could have cared less about his spotty appearances if she knew what was going to happen to her when they got to Podala, if she'd have to go sign in on the for-hire list or go hunt parts.

She hated that. Really hated it. Maryl had warned her, told her upfront what she was in for, but she still hated it. What made it worse was that Maryl had turned right around and played along with it-meaning, in the end, they'd be on his side. No surprise, that, though: They'd been a crew for a while, knew each other well, had gotten through a lot together. She was just "a guest."

Passing by a dry sink, she stuck her arms in and tapped the initiator in the back. Gradually, the contraption whirred to life and began to peck the grease and soot off her hands and arms.

"Great," she said to herself, bouncing her sore leg as she waited. "One more for the list."

But at least they have one here, she answered herself. Sighing, she waited the four times longer then it should have taken, then turned the unit off.

She finally resolved herself to go ahead and just ask for the job, get it done with, as Maryl had first hinted she should. The captain would have to be an idiot to not see she was capable, and she didn't take him as one so far. Much as she hated the idea of having to, she wasn't too proud to ask for what she wanted. It was a lot more dignified that signing the for-hire list and sitting around like cattle waiting to be called to a dabo table of potentially rotten jobs. With the Maquis situation she'd been told about, it might not be a good idea to stick around there as it was. Podala, Maryl pointed out, was one of the nearest stations to the outer end of the DMZ.

She wanted it. It was just a matter of getting it.

Moreover, she wasn't going to make the same, old mistake again-get into a lousy situation with her eyes shut hard, act off her quick feelings rather than her head. This time, she knew it'd be a right decision. She'd watched the crew working before they knew she was there, listened to their conversations and even overheard communications in passing. They spoke to her much as they spoke to each other-casual, matter of fact, without any airs or false courtesy or tiptoeing. As for the Guerdon and its systems, while it needed a lot of work, it wasn't a total piece of garbage, either. The captain at least scored points for being interested in upgrades, too.

Instead of her Klingon temper getting her kicked out of a place, a little of that temper had finally gotten her in to a situation that she couldn't have expected a week ago, the way things had been going.

Nodding to herself, she crossed into the main corridor to get to the lounge. She could eat and formulate an approach that wouldn't piss the captain off and at the same time wouldn't be embarrassing.

Arrogant bastard just needs to feel important, she concluded. Fine. I'll hardly see him once it's over. If he rejects me, that'll be his problem.

More determined with every step, B'Elanna entered the lounge and turned straight for the replicator. Checking it first to see if her spot repair was holding, she clicked through the choices. She chose a pasta salad-it'd fill her and stay there, she figured-and coffee.

Maybe get that comm system and sensor relay installed first, then arrange to talk to him.

Waiting for the replicator and ticking through her priorities, B'Elanna turned to lean on the wall, rest her knee a little.

Her back didn't touch the wall before she jumped away from it.

Across the lounge, she saw a man slumped over on the table. His arms were hanging flaccid below him and his feet were sprawled in such a way that he was dangerously close to sliding off the chair.

"Captain...Tom?" B'Elanna moved across the room and quickly investigated the table. There was nothing there but him. Careful not to push him off his seat, she shook his arm. "Tom?"

If he was breathing, she couldn't tell. B'Elanna drew a quick breath and decided to pull him up. Readying herself to catch him, she moved behind him and got him under the arms to haul him back. His head slid off the table and his chin hit his chest.

"Damn," B'Elanna hissed, checking her breath as she eased the captain away from the chair, lifting him to the ground as gently as she could. Kneeling on the deck, she put her hand in front of his nose and open mouth. Relieved to feel some air, she looked him over again. He was paler than he had been the day before, but not ghostly.

With a few sharp breaths, thinking quick and hard in a place still new to her, B'Elanna got to her feet again and left the lounge. She looked right and left-engineering, bridge-then crossed the corridor when she recalled another option. Retracing a few more steps from two days ago with Maryl, B'Elanna passed the forward cross-corridor and hurried to the doors to the right.

Tapping the door control, she looked inside and found Savan at work on a plant.

"The captain's passed out in the lounge," she told her.

Peering back at B'Elanna, the Vulcan woman rose from her bench and moved to the counter at the side of the room. Opening the cabinet above it, she pulled down a flat case and spread it apart. "Has he injured himself?" she queried.

B'Elanna blinked. The ship's so-called medic wasn't in any rush. "Not that I can see."

"Thank you." Selecting then loading a hypospray, Savan gestured to the entrance. "I will need your assistance. Please return with me."

B'Elanna did, two steps behind the Vulcan as they moved down the middle of the ship. Arriving at the lounge, she watched Savan walk across to where Paris laid, just as she had left him. Kneeling beside him, Savan placed her hand on his throat and tapped the control on the hypospray. Moments after she administered a dose, the captain coughed, then gagged on his bile. Savan nodded.

"Assist me in supporting him," she told the younger woman, gesturing to his right side. B'Elanna moved all the way in and bent over to take an arm and a shoulder. Together, they pulled the tall man to his unsteady feet and secured his arms over their shoulders. He began to breathe normally then, though still a little rough. "We will take him to the lab. Please remember to put the weight on your opposite leg when we do so. I notice you are favoring your left leg again."

B'Elanna snorted. The last thing she was thinking about was her knee. "What's up with him? Is he drunk?"

"He will not be soon," Savan answered, then exhaled when her captain's long legs buckled underneath him. "Tom, please help us lead you to the lab."

With a groggy shake of his head, he managed to keep his feet under him as they moved forward. His eyes remained closed, though, as they maneuvered him around the table and towards the door. "Gimma break, Cass," he slurred, then choked a laugh.

"Tom, we are taking you to the lab," Savan repeated. "Please maintain your pace."

"Yeah...some grieve...sincerely grieve..." He shivered a little, jerked a foot forward, then the other. "Snares..."

B'Elanna scowled over to the flailing head beside her own. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"Gimme a break, Cass..."

Savan turned them once they were in the corridor. "He is delirious."

"I...not loved the world...fair foes..."

"I got that much. Why is he delirious?"

"He makes the occasional mistake of purchasing poor quality alcohol. He will recover."

B'Elanna shook her head at the explanation. "How can you not be concerned about this? What if he's flying the ship and he has one of...these?"

"It has not happened, and the ship will respond appropriately if it should."

"Does he know this happens?"

"I have been careful to inform him."

"I...do...believe...Cass...don't..." With a groan, he quieted. His feet stumbled under him and the women yanked him up again. "Happy...no dream...don't..."

B'Elanna breathed a laugh as they came into the lab with their burden. "Well, there's the one thing wrong with this job-a suicidal captain."

"That is an incorrect assumption," Savan replied, moving around a medical table to pull Tom onto it.

Taking her cue from there, B'Elanna pulled his feet up and around to rest on the bed. "Hasn't anyone tried to help him?" she asked as she pushed his boots to the middle. "Not that I know him or anything, but I think I have the right to ask if I might be offered a job here."

"In a case such as this," Savan told her, "the decision to tend to his health is his. There are complexities of which you are ignorant and which I am not at liberty to disclose. Your concern, though admirable, will be of little consequence until he chooses how he will treat himself in the future."

B'Elanna took a step back from the table, still staring at the man, who was unconscious again. He looked younger than when she saw him last, almost innocent there, though without a doubt strung out. The memory of him sucking down that bottle of wine the night before, his heavy eyes intent of only what was right in front of him and little more, flashed behind her eyes. He might have been handsome if he took care of himself. He was apparently intelligent, good at what he did, well liked by his crew for what she could tell.

She definitely didn't understand it, and she chose not to try to figure it out. Savan seemed confident about what she was saying and used to what she was doing. For that matter, B'Elanna had no problem agreeing that it wasn't her problem.

"I should get my lunch," she told Savan with a nod. "I have to meet Jerod later."

Savan blinked in assent. "Thank you for your assistance. Tom will recover presently."

"Okay."

"I would like to meet with you tomorrow morning."

B'Elanna was halfway out of the door when the request was made. She closed her eyes for a moment, somehow managing to swallow her first response. "I'll try to be unbusy. Any particular time?"

"Eight hundred hours would be convenient."

"I'll be here."

B'Elanna returned to the lounge, still shaking her head at the strange event and not nearly as hungry as she'd been. She couldn't even remember what she'd ordered to eat. Whatever was the issue with the captain wasn't upsetting, but it ticked at her, stuck to her. It was just weird, maybe a little unnerving. She didn't know why.

On top of that, the "interview" process had finally swung over to the Vulcan.

Nevertheless, as she'd told Savan and reminded herself again, she did have a long night coming up, so she set her mind back on getting something to eat, having the break that she should have before starting another shift. Turning into the rectangular room, first glancing at the place where Paris had been to see if anything was dropped, she spotted Ridge on the other end, pulling her selections off the replicator tray.

"Hey there," he said cheerfully. "All that talk about food got me hungry, too-not that I'm on any diet." He watched her cross her arms as he put her meal down. "What's wrong, kid?"

"Nothing," B'Elanna replied and moved to the table. "Thanks."

"Here we go. Finally in. -Heh. You'd think since this is a Bolian ship that they'd make these conduits a little more accommodating."

"Just because it's Bolian doesn't mean a Bolian designed it."

"Damn, do you always make sense? -Ah, yeah, shine it right there. Great."

Cameron Jerod was a spare-set man, about her age; not too tall, not short, with long, muscular fingers, an average face and an expression that only straightened when he was concentrating. In B'Elanna's eyes, he was about as normal as normal could be for a human, everyday without being plain. She'd gotten unused to that sort of person in her travels.

It was a nice change, as was the nature of that "meeting." Even if she was just holding the light like some level-two tech assistant, being in the guts of a ship was far more her speed than sitting in a bright, boxy room staring at star charts. Rather, to her pleasant surprise, the time passed quickly as they lay on their backs in the aft juncture crawlspace. He chatted and prodded at the ancient comm assemblies with the tools she'd brought while she watched and pointed the light where he needed it.

"I still can't believe Tom's not got you signed yet," he said, a light chuckle in his voice. It seemed to be the norm with him. "I gave him hell about it this morning, but he really wants to make sure it's a good fit, you know-on both sides. Savan feels pretty strongly about it, too-a decent fit for the engines and for the rest of us. But they were brought up in the Starfleet system. They consider things like that pretty heavily, when they can."

Drawing a cool breath, B'Elanna said nothing to that, but angled the light a little closer in as his attention turned into another part of the shaft section. "Your last engineer must have been a rough experience."

"Livich? Eh, she was fine-when things were going okay. When they weren't, she'd make life a living hell for everyone. Made Maryl look downright giddy and she drove Tom crazy, much as he made an effort to piss her off. It was about all he could do besides kill her-when he felt like giving a damn, anyway. And oh, she hated him. I never saw anyone so venomous about a fellow human-ever."

Jerod snorted, pushing the laser wrench into the open slot. "But in the end, she got us good-told Tom and the rest of us she'd be signing on a new contract then jumped ship without a word. Here we were with a crapload of repairs to be done and a haul to DS-Nine coming up-the run we're on now-and all that was left of her was a poof of smoke. She had a good job lined up even while she had Tom updating her terms, so she managed to grab her share from the Hidirin job and make him look like an ass. -Give me another relay switch?"

B'Elanna reached over and felt for it, then handed it over.

Jerod continued, "It was tough on Ridge. He's a great tech-and I'm a good tech-but we're neither engineers. Tom had to hire a station hack at Hidirin to get us going, swearing he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Tom's a great guy, but you can only break his trust once. Livich did a pretty good job of that."

B'Elanna thought about that for a moment and the first question that came to mind with that explanation. Peering over at Jerod, she figured he wouldn't mind telling her-or not answering. "So Paris doesn't have any other problems besides that?"

Jerod returned her glance. "If he does, I don't know about it. Either way, he's going to be careful. Desperation doesn't make him do what a lot of people do-solve a problem with the first available solution."

B'Elanna snorted despite herself. "If you say so."

Jerod adjusted the laser wrench. "Yeah, I heard he ended up in the lab again. Sorry you had to go through that so soon. He can be a mess."

"It was nothing."

"Still no fun to deal with. Believe me, B'Elanna, he's-can you move that over there a little? Thanks. -He's usually a fully functional drunk." Squinting at his work, he looked over at the case B'Elanna had drug into the conduit with her. "You have a phase calibrator in there?"

B'Elanna put the light down and got onto an elbow to look inside her kit.

"It's no secret on the route," he continued, nodding when she handed the tool to him. "He can outlast just about anyone at the table, though I'll admit we sometimes have to drag him home, too. But despite what it can do to him, I'd pour his glass any day of the week without a blink."

B'Elanna smirked, readjusting the light's setting so it would cover more area. "Even if you're the first to criticize him?"

"Eh, that's not criticism. I'm just joshing around with him, which he sort of prefers. Keeps his brain alive, so he says, and it's good for the rest of us, too. If he's not in the mood for it, he'll say something or leave. He doesn't hold a grudge. Even Maryl gets to mess with him. He doesn't care."

"Maybe that's the problem," B'Elanna observed.

"Yeah."

B'Elanna glanced over at Jerod. His agreement was casual, almost unconcerned. He set aside some relay wires and began to plug in the new ones. She went back to fiddling with the light. It wasn't an effective model to use in such a tight space. Too much glare. Thankfully, it had some resolution adjustors. "And so he drinks because he doesn't care?"

"Nope. He doesn't care if people give him hell. He's had to deal with much worse from people who you'd expect would be a little more courteous. What he can't deal with, can't get out of his system, is why he drinks. Nothing new. But don't mistake that for him not caring in general. He'd put his life on the line for any one of us, including you, if it came to that. You can count on it."

"Well, he doesn't have to worry about me," B'Elanna asserted.

"Yeah he does."

She looked at him again, not asking-not having to. Jerod had already turned a look back at her.

He held her attention several seconds before asking, "Hand me the next bundle?" She jerked her stare away to the tray they'd pulled in with them, grabbed the isolinear bundle. Taking it from her, Jerod gave her the end with the connector rods. "Just set the light on the floor. I can tell you're bored."

"It's going in by your spec."

"Screw the specs. You could do this in your sleep." He chuckled. "Hell, you could probably throw together a robot that could do this better than I could, seeing how you work so far." He gave the calibrator back to her. "Plus, it'll make it go faster."

"Thanks," B'Elanna said, meaning it.

Gladly reaching up into the assembly Jerod had just cleared, B'Elanna cleaned each of the plugs with the laser, and then rechecked each connector for the correct converter. With so many alien systems working together, she knew she couldn't be too careful.

"So, why does Paris have to save my life?" she asked. She didn't necessarily like to talk while working-usually didn't-but as Jerod had pointed out, it was a simple job. For that matter, he had already made her curious.

"Aside from his being the captain?"

"That's what I thought you meant."

"Yeah, it is," Jerod replied with a short nod, then answered, "Because a few people under his command got killed. It wasn't pretty, screwed him up bad. He feels responsible."

That was much simpler an answer than B'Elanna had expected, but it was the most understandable thing she'd heard about the man so far.

"So how'd a mechanic like you end up on Mesler's old garbage pail?" Jerod asked as he tapped a few commands in the adjoining panel.

"Wrong station at the wrong time," B'Elanna said. "I'd been through a lot of assignments and didn't feel like hanging around. Mesler made an offer and I took it."

"Mesler. Hate to say it about anyone who gets whacked off by the Cardies, but he got what was coming to him."

B'Elanna breathed an ironic laugh. "Did Mesler have any allies out here?"

"Hell, no-not with the independent traders, at least. He had a knack for trying to double shift his deals-use one deal to pay for another before following up on the first one. The fact you're here is a result of it...so maybe we can't be too sorry. His cousin was the original owner of this ship, actually. It's why he kept ticking at us for a deal, because apparently we were legally bound by Trusket's old contract. Tom had to follow through sooner or later."

"So he hasn't had the Guerdon for long."

"A couple years," Jerod answered. "And trust me, it's a hell of a lot better than it was without him. You think it needs upgrades now?" Jerod blew a whistle through his teeth. "We were missing nacelle plating when Tom got the Guerdon dumped on him. But then, Trusket was trying to run the ship down so he could get out of his contract. The only reason he picked me up was because he was contractually obligated and was sure I couldn't cut it."

He caught B'Elanna's stare again and shook his head. "I wasn't mad about it. I knew I wasn't experienced. I needed to work to support my family on Ronara, pay for protection, all that. I didn't really care what I was doing. Stupid old bastard didn't count on Livich and Ridge training me, or the fact that I knew how to read."

"Your family still lives in the DMZ, then?"

"Yeah. They're among the groups who don't want to give it up. I mean, I grew up there, so in a way I can't blame them, but if it were up to me, they'd be taking a nice, long vacation on a no-charge Federation colony, hell and far away from there. But since they won't go for that, I decided to come out here and do what they can't right now. It's been working out pretty well, though it's been a little thinner for them since the Federation cut off their support. It's hard rationing your everyday life when you've never had to, you know? The Federation believes that'll get them to change their minds, when what they're really doing is just pissing everyone off."

"And they're their own people," B'Elanna growled. She hadn't heard about that part of the issue yet.

"Well, also they're trying to avoid another bloody war and help secure Bajor," Jerod shrugged. "Sounds about right. The treaty's crap, of course, since the Cardassians could care less about it-and get away with not caring about it. That's the real problem. Anyone could argue about parsing off the colonies like they did, but the Fed's intentions were good."

"Cutting people off because they won't leave their homes isn't exactly a charity."

"True. But I can see how they'd be ignorant enough to do it. They don't live out here. They sent stuffy old captains to survey the region and send back reports. They didn't know anything. Anyway, it's a long, old fight they'd been fighting for years before we came around and started yelling about it, and we can curse it all we like. In the end, I'll have my family. After all the knots are settled out-either by the Maquis or someone else-we'll all be together and home, wherever that is."

She blew a breath in the air, setting the laser down so she could inspect the node one last time. "It's still not fair," she said, adjusting the light a little.

"Nothing's really fair, when you get down to it. Just got to make the best of what is good about it, as they say. You're the only one who can do that-and I'm happy with what I've done. Life could be a hell of a lot worse. -Done already? Give me another minute and we'll get to the fun part."

"Okay." She couldn't help her grin that time. He certainly knew her brand of fun.

"Actually, while I finish, could you go back out into the access juncture and grab another row of seals? I've still got some, but not enough, I think."

B'Elanna flipped onto her belly. "No problem. One or two packs?"

"Two. Better too many than too little. You remember your way around?"

"Yes. I'll be right back"

Crawling out the way they came in, B'Elanna grinned to realize why Jerod had taken over so many of Ridge's small maintenance tasks. The bulkier man wouldn't have been able to fit an arm in those tubes, much less the rest of him. Like everything else on the Guerdon, everything was a little out of place. She was already starting to enjoy discovering them-including the realization that the upper access tubes' juncture was right above the lounge. As she neared it, she could smell the coffee and hear the voices...

She couldn't make out the words at first, but as she dug into Jerod's parts box, she recognized Maryl's voice, a drawl like a cat's with clips at the ends of her sentences. It was unmistakable. The other voice wasn't as easy at first because it was so quiet, but then she heard:

"You want coffee before we go forward?"

"Yes. Thanks." The replicator whirred to life and added more coffee smell to the air. "So, when is it going to be final?"

"Can't say. It's still in the air."

B'Elanna blinked. It was the captain. Savan was right. He recovers quickly. She pulled another pack of seals and stuffed them in her work belt.

"In the air? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I don't know if she's right for the job yet. I'm waiting on Savan."

B'Elanna froze.

"Come on, Tom! It's not like she's not good enough."

"That's my problem, Maryl: She's too good. Smart as she is, how long do you think it'll take her to realize that? She's busy for now, but after the coils are repaired and the shields are reworked, once the routine starts setting in, she's going to be bored as hell." Sighing heavily, he continued, "She needs a job now, but what about after she looks around and realizes she's got nothing better to do?"

"I see your point," Maryl admitted. "But wouldn't that be her problem?"

"It'll become everyone else's soon enough."

"You don't know that-"

"Maryl-"

"You can't tell me that you-"

"Hana!"

Silence.

"Have I asked much since I became the captain?"

A pause. "No. -Except that we didn't call you that."

He snorted softly, then said, "I'm asking this-just this. I refuse to fly another circuit in a fight. When Livich left, I swore I wouldn't put up with that crap again. I'm going to hear what Savan's impression is, and then I'm making up my mind. If I have to make do for the time being and drydock at Ulinas until we find the right person, I'll do it. You and Ridge can decide not to re-up when your contract comes. Much as I'd hate it, that'd be fine, too. Either way, I'm not going to put up with another engineer who takes her hostility out of everyone around her, no matter how good she is at keeping this ship going."

Another pause. "Okay."

"You see what I'm talking about, right?"

"Yes. -But I'll still say you're an idiot."

"Well, seeing as you already think it, that won't take much more effort, will it?"

B'Elanna realized she was sitting with her back to the juncture wall, barely breathing. Her blood felt frozen. All the work she'd been doing, everything she was planning, and he couldn't see for a case of bad scotch and what an incompetent bitch had left behind-a far worse situation than she'd thought.

"Did you get the checklist from Podala yet?" the captain asked, obviously changing the topic as they moved out of the lounge.

"No. Gil's probably sitting on it, ignorant bastard."

Their voices continued to fade as they continued to the bridge.

B'Elanna numbly turned on her knees and returned to the tubes and to Jerod, who was putting down his tools as she approached. She handed him a case of seals. "I have the other pack in my belt," she told him.

"Great. Thanks. Now, how about I get a look at how that fancy field-dichrometer works?"

B'Elanna pulled it from its bearings in her kit. "Node four first?"

"Yeah, that'll be a good start."

Silently gnashing her teeth, B'Elanna activated the tool and gladly let their sounds be replaced by the dicrometer as it remagnitize the matrices one by one.