Speaking with the colonists that first night had been an eye-opener for Tom. From the various stories they told, he learned that the raids on the compound had not been performed by clumsy amateurs. They had been carried out with stealth and precision and only made to appear haphazard. He had known that Aristarchus was high on Crevlin's list of targets long before he'd come here. Crevlin had told him directly, back on Onari when he was certain that Tom would soon be killed. There was no time to wait for Federation aid; there was no time even to wait for Harry's ship to return. The time to prepare was now.
One of his first steps was to get B'Elanna to agree to leave Aristarchus with Miral at the first opportunity. Either that, or force her to go, and that idea left a very bitter taste in his mouth. He came to their quarters and paused. Tonight, there would be no fight. He would have plenty of that soon enough.
When he quietly opened the door to their small quarters, he heard B'Elanna humming a tune. Most Klingon songs had their beginnings in war or battle, and the tune sent up a red flag in his brain. She was pumped about something, though he couldn't imagine what could have possibly happened in his absence that put her such a good mood.
She hadn't heard him come in. She had tucked her hair behind her ear and was busy unpacking her clothes. He came up behind her and kissed the exposed part of her neck.
She stopped singing. "Mmm… that's nice," she said. "Did the meeting break up?"
"Mm-hmm," He murmured, and he slipped his arm comfortably around her shoulder and held her. The warmth of her palm when she curved her gentle fingers over his arm, and the perfect fit of her body to his when she sighed and settled into him, reminded him of home. He held her for a moment, closing his eyes and rested his head against hers.
"You're tired," she said after a moment.
"Very." He replied, and then he released her and stepped away. He picked up a small glowing crystal that was lying on the dresser and turned it in his hand. "Some of the colonist's plan to leave when the next transport comes. They're worried about their families."
"Oh?" B'Elanna said. She put the last of her shirts in the drawer and turned to him. "Is Chakotay leaving too?"
"He hasn't said." Tom replaced the crystal. "But I want you to give it some serious thought, B'Elanna. Take our daughter home."
"Miral and I will go only if you go with us," B'Elanna said calmly, and he knew by the way she held herself, shoulders squared and fists clenched, that she would stand her ground on this matter. "Anyway," she continued. "Miral is eighteen now. If it comes down to it, she can go back on the transport by herself. She's made it abundantly clear to us that she isn't afraid of long distance space travel."
"You know as well as I do that she needs someone to be with her to make sure she actually gets back and doesn't pull some fantastic stunt like the last time." Tom sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed at his aching shoulder. "You're just being obstinate, and you know it."
"I'm your wife. It's my job." She softened a bit and walked over to him. "Does it hurt bad? Do you think you can do your exercises?"
"Shoulder's stiff," he groaned. "I can hardly move it."
"Then you'd better get started." She went back to the dresser.
"So," he said, reluctant to begin the agonizing therapy. "Did we bring the good doctor, or did we forget to pack him?"
"I didn't forget him. He's right here," she said and presented a small holo-emitter. "B-4 uploaded all of your medical history into this emitter, mine and Miral's too. Even Chakotay and his family's are in here."
"All in that little package."
B'Elanna handed the apparatus to Tom. "B-4 told me that a heating pad would help loosen up the joints in the prosthesis. I'll go ask Annika if they have one."
"We didn't pack one I suppose." He said warily. "I wonder if I'll always need special equipment to help me get by."
"That's a question for your doctor, isn't it?" she said. "Why don't you go ahead and boot him up? I'm sure he's anxious to get started, and so are you. I'll be back in a few minutes to help out."
B'Elanna slipped out the door and disappeared into the hall.
Tom looked down at the small device. He wasn't anxious at all to get started. There was a lot of misery attached to this seemingly innocuous little gadget. Those exercises were hell. He could wait a lifetime without that kind of torture, but he knew it was for his own good. "It's now or never, Tom," he said, and he reluctantly activated it, and then set it in a clear space on the floor.
A high-pitched tone like that of a dog whistle emitted from the device and for a moment, Tom thought the thing was a dud. He leaned over to pick it up and suddenly found himself reaching for a pair of shoes.
"State the nature of the medical emergency."
Tom held his breath as his eyes went up the legs, to the old style Voyager aqua and black uniform, and then to the dispassionate face looking down at him. This was a face he hadn't seen in a while, had never expected to see again. "Doc?"
The doctor frowned, and his brows drew together. "Ah Mr. Paris, I should have known. What happened? Did you crash the Delta Flyer?"
Tom straightened. Delta Flyer? Was this B'Elanna's idea of a practical joke?
"I suppose it's up to me now to make sure you don't fall apart?" the doctor complained. "Let me take a look at that arm." He carefully removed the sling and pushed up Tom's sleeve to reveal the lower portion of the prosthesis. "What beautiful craftsmanship. B-4 is a master surgeon. You were lucky, Mr. Paris, very lucky to have him when this happened."
"No offense, Doc, but you are the last person I expected to see."
The doctor ignored him and closely examined the juncture that melded his forearm with the artificial elbow joint. "The appearance is quite natural," the doctor said, and when he glanced back up at Tom, a curious look crossed his face. "Would you mind telling me one thing?"
"What?"
"Has Voyager passed through some kind of time vortex? You're old!"
Tom turned his head. "B'Elanna!" he shouted at the closed door.
"Did you hear that?" asked Seven as she reached into a bathroom cabinet for the heating pad.
"Hear what?" B'Elanna said.
Seven pressed a finger to her lips. "Wait." She stood still and listened for a moment, then nodded in affirmation. "He's calling you."
"Who is?"
She pulled out the heating pad and handed it to B'Elanna. "Your husband."
"You have good ears."
"You do not think he's hurt do you?" Concern came over Seven's face and she looked as if she were about to dash out to his aid.
"No, he's just going through therapy with the doctor. Guess I'd better go see him," B'Elanna said stepping out of the little room. "Are you going to speak with Chakotay tonight?"
"Yes," replied Seven. "I feel more like myself now. Perhaps it was something I ate."
"Federation rations will do that to you." She patted Seven's shoulder. "Good luck Seven, and congratulations. I'll send the doctor to see you tomorrow morning."
"Thank you, B'Elanna. You are a true friend."
B'Elanna smiled and when she turned to go, Chakotay entered the quarters. "Good night, Chakotay," she said in a sing-songy voice and waved with her fingers as she went out the door.
"Good night, B'Elanna." He stared after her as she left. "Wonder what's gotten into her?"
"Probably something she ate?" Seven offered, and she hooked her arm into his. "Come sit down, we have an important matter to discuss." With a slight flick of her foot, she kicked the door closed.