Part: IX. Departures: When not mired in the preliminary.
36.
The lawn was so green it almost hurt her eyes. The air was wet and cool, the sun, warm. With tightly crossed arms, she strode across the grass, her eyes fixed on her destination. She was busy. She had business. Her feet crunched against the blades; she sped herself, made good time across.
"Give me that!"
"Come on, you're better than that!"
"We're too busy!"
"You want it, you'll have to catch me!"
Looking over, she stilled. Tom stood not a meter away from her, gazing down at her. Not Starfleet. He had his usual brown coat on, flung open and hanging long over his slim hips.
"You'll have to catch me," he said again, a little smile turning his mouth.
Taking the PADDs from her hands and slipping them into his coat pocket, he wrapped his fingers around hers and drew her out onto the grass with him. She followed, reluctantly at first, then gaining speed until she felt herself smiling, even laughing. The cool air brushed her warm cheeks as he led her around the yards.
Then she stopped. His hand still holding hers, he drew her close and slid his hands around her hips. Her breath caught as suddenly as he'd changed their course. She felt his warmth on her bare throat, felt his soft breath on her cheek. His long, warm fingers easily found the waist seam in her jumpsuit.
"Catch me," he whispered to her ear...
B'Elanna jolted awake, hot and half numb from the leap into consciousness. Her sheets felt stuck to her body, though she was dry. She could almost feel where she'd pressed against him, where his hands had gone, and her response... For a moment, she didn't know whether or not she should be annoyed, but then, it was Tom she'd just been dreaming about.
You always pick the convenient ones, she frowned, meanwhile beginning the process of telling herself it was just her subconscious playing around with her day, and it didn't mean anything. Indeed, she knew she didn't have feelings for the man-not romantic ones, anyway. He'd proved himself a friend and had welcomed her friendship, too, back on Ulinas. That was a month ago, though, and now, heading towards a Maquis base in the heart of the DMZ, they'd all been quiet and busy without excuse. It wasn't like anything was-
"B'Elanna?"
She jolted again. It was Tom.
"Yes!" she responded, then blew a breath. You can be so incredibly stupid, she cursed herself. "Yes, I'm here."
The comm crackled lightly. Ridge had taken to calling it "Mesler's Revenge." B'Elanna made a mental note to remind Nadrev to poke at the EM junctions yet again.
"You mind coming on a little early? We're twelve hours to Sygra-Two and the subspace transceiver just started twitching again. We might need that when we get there."
B'Elanna snorted. The man did enjoy understatement. "We might. Ten minutes okay?"
"That'll be fine."
Putting her feet on the floor, B'Elanna leaned over and blew a long sigh through her lips.
"Out of the freezer and into the fryer."
Tom's eyes narrowed on the environmental readouts as he muttered the words to himself. Forty Celsius, high humidity, no clouds, no wind. This was reported to be normal weather at this colony site. Better still, instead of dropping off at a convenient landing pad, Maryl was told at Sicira that setup assistance was required with that shipment. They were to deliver and install five internal power generators to replace the old units and install one industrial replicator. The colony's technicians were off with the Maquis, Tom figured, or Captain Chakotay had designed an up close and personal look at what the Maquis was fighting for.
Either way, Tom found himself grumbling even while he knew he didn't have a choice. Unfortunately, the person who'd want even less to do with the drop-off was probably the best choice to help with the installs.
Leaning back in his seat, Tom thought about that. B'Elanna had been through a lot in that last month, between the surprise meeting with her estranged father and the EPS manifold disaster, on top of continuing to work overtime and some to keep them held together on the run to Deep Space Nine. The ODN and main computer were her primary concerns again, power failures her chief fear again, along with a warp drive needing a full retuning with their long, fast runs of late. It was always something, but ever since the Ligaran deal had been literally blasted apart, it was always something major; being unable to fix the problem for good was starting to really tick her off on the bad days.
Tom scrolled through the readouts again and sighed. Might as well ask, he decided. Getting it done and being paid at Deep Space Nine for their legitimate work sooner rather than later would have to win the day. With any luck, B'Elanna wouldn't mind a distraction from the presently unfixable things. Since Ulinas, Tom had gratefully learned that she was capable of enjoying some distraction. Pissed off and tired as hell, they still had a pretty good time sailing on that choppy water, Tom remembered with a little grin. They even managed to keep the boat upright, though barely at times. She seemed equally in her element there as in the engine room, on fire about her latest project or repair. Indeed, he learned a lot about B'Elanna Torres that week.
"Tom, we have another ship coming up on us-fast," Maryl reported, scowling at her panel.
Savan was already on it. "It is Captain Chakotay's ship," she informed him.
"Guess we need a babysitter now, too," he muttered and glanced back at Maryl. "Are they just following, or do they want to chat again?"
"It looks like they're following for now."
"Just how I remember them best-on our tail." He looked at his monitor. Their ETA to Sygra-Two was nine hours, and the status column looked manageable. B'Elanna was probably not too busy...not much busier than usual, as it were. Pushing himself to his feet, he looked at Maryl again. "I'll be on deck two. Let me know when they feel like talking."
Savan stared at him. "Are you certain it is wise to leave the bridge now?"
"We're carrying their contraband," he reminded her. "They're probably making sure we go where we're supposed to go. -And it's not like we could do much if the case were otherwise. Anyway, I won't be long."
Setting himself into a steady pace down the center corridor, Tom rolled his head around, loosening his tense shoulders. Bad enough they were there in the first place... Then again, the Federation was starting to gear up against the Maquis factions, get better intelligence and make some key arrests. The Guerdon's run-in with the Berlin made Chakotay and his people nervous for good reason. But the Guerdon's deradiative holds were too good to resist and its captain was too easy a prey-a reminder that made Tom roll his eyes. The Maquis captain knew exactly what he was doing, choosing him to make those runs. Now that they had the crates and had flown past the sensor nets, Chakotay could swoop in and see about the rest of the job.
"Rope and hook...son of a bitch," Tom muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He needed to refresh that coat...easily done while he worked on Sygra-Two. He sure wouldn't need it there.
"I need the thirty-two line," came B'Elanna's commanding voice from below. It was a staple sound around the engine room's main control panels, so much so that the place didn't seem right when she wasn't there. Ridge and Nadrev had to admit from time to time that it certainly was more relaxed when their "boss" was off, but even they said it felt empty. Tom shook his head for the umpteenth time to think more on it. She didn't even have a proper engineering degree, but going through the motions of getting a degree would probably bore her to tears at that point. He wondered if she'd ever considered trying to place in an advanced program anywhere, but knew with a sigh she probably hadn't. The Guerdon kept her too busy for any of that. Then again, he could be working far more to his expertise, too.
He shrugged away the old nag, though. He wasn't going anywhere, either.
Coming onto the deck overlook, Tom caught but a glimpse of her as she passed behind the main panels towards the ODN. So she's back on that again, Tom noted. Her small tweaks had been working, though. The main computer had stabilized and some of the compensation issues had been solved. They still needed an overhaul that wouldn't happen for some time yet.
"Want me to bring them?" asked Ridge from the supply room.
"No," she called back. "I'm coming back."
Tom took that opportunity. Descending to deck two, he strode across to meet the engineer just as she made her way back around. "B'Elanna," he said.
She glanced at him. "What do you need?"
Seeing and feeling the chill in her greeting, he shrugged. "You're busy. It can wait."
"I'll be busy later, too," she told him, stopping in the middle of the deck. "Tell me now."
He relented with a nod. "Aside from the materials drop off, this next delivery requires installation work inside the colony itself. I have to go, but I was wondering if you could help set up the units."
She stared at him. "Set up the units," she said tonelessly.
"You have every right to say no and I'll respect it. But I thought I should ask."
She exhaled a breath slowly through her nostrils, considering all over again the chunks of machinery they had strapped to the bulkheads in deck three's beta-seven forward hold, then considering the look in the captain's eyes. He wouldn't have come to her unless he felt he had to. "I'd be lying if I said I wanted to do it...but I will."
"Really, B'Elanna, you can send Ridge with me," Tom assured her, "if you're really against it. I know how you feel about these people. Just that he'll need to know how to do it."
"No, it's probably better I set them up," she conceded, shaking her head. "I have a lot more experience with them. It'll be done more quickly, which is what I really want."
"Quicker is good," Tom said, glad she'd come to the same conclusion on her own. Offering her a small but genuine smile, he added, "Thanks, B'Elanna."
The engineer gave him a nod and continued to the supply room without looking back, her fingers wrapped firmly around her PADD.
"Standard orbit," Tom announced, more to himself than anyone else on the bridge. Savan appreciated hearing it, at least, and somehow, the old habit had become easier on him, as well. He still wondered why he bothered.
"The Maquis ship has set itself into a synchronous orbit," Savan reported.
"And he's opening a secure channel," Maryl added dourly.
"At last, he speaks." Tom leaned back fully in his seat and crossed a leg at the knee.
A few moments later, Captain Chakotay appeared on his screen again, not so angry as the last time but just as looming. His dark eyes knew exactly where to point. "Captain Paris."
"Captain Chakotay. What a surprise."
"Are you ready for transport?" he asked.
"We were assembling our bathing gear before taking the plunge," Tom replied.
The sarcasm played a frown across his face before he realized what the younger captain was saying. "With a shuttle?"
"No," Tom said slowly. "Is it different this time?"
"There isn't a landing site for a ship your size."
Tom's brow drew down. "Why weren't we told about this? Our transporters aren't bio-safe, and we don't have a shuttle. How the hell can we help with an install when we can't land?"
Chakotay paused, looked to his side a moment, but then returned his attention to the younger man. "I apologize. That must have been lost in the details. The colony has no convenient landing site for your ship. However..." Pausing again, he weighed a few options in his eyes as he looked down to tap on his panel. Finally, a little grin touched his lips, then melted. "I have a small shuttle that can take one generator at a time. You're welcome to it for this job."
Tom tilted his head. "Why not just take the generators," he suggested, "and bring them yourselves? You seem to be here for a purpose."
"We need to be here," Chakotay admitted, "but I have no one to spare. Our technicians are busy with repairs."
Like mine aren't, Tom frowned, but let it slide. He knew he would never come close to winning that discussion. "Do you need me to pick up the shuttle, too?"
"We can transport you to our shuttle bay," said the other captain, enjoying that easy victory for what it was worth.
Tom glanced at his status monitor, then looked once again at the other captain. "Let me arrange it with my person on this end, and I'll get back to you. Give me a few minutes."
"You have thirty," Chakotay told him, nodding to his side, then cutting the comm.
"What do you know? The Maquis don't have an anti-grav, either."
B'Elanna pursed her lips for want of a smile. "Guess you can't even steal one out here."
Tom hopped up and grabbed the control arm of the magnetic flat. Thankfully, it came instantly to life and rolled easily down from the gangway hatch and toward the main aft bay access corridor, where Ridge waited with the first generator.
Their transport over to the Maquis ship had been oddly quiet. No one was there to welcome them but the captain's voice over the comm telling them what to do. Tom suddenly understood that Chakotay was in fact low on techs and likely had come to Sygra to recruit some personnel. B'Elanna showed no sympathy for the man's plight-not that Tom had expected any or felt much different, even as a fellow captain. Slipping into the side hatch, Tom immediately walked forward and checked out the controls. B'Elanna ran a couple of quick diagnostics on the engine, just in case the Maquis had something else in mind for the Guerdon's captain. They both had suspected it in vain. The systems all checked out. Tom popped on the thrusters and sailed them out of the Liberty-as they finally learned the Maquis ship was called-to the Guerdon's deck three landing bay in but a couple minutes.
"You sure I shouldn't go instead, B'Elanna?" Ridge asked plaintively as he prepared to push the big machine aboard the cart. "I could learn the install."
"I'd like this to be over with as soon as possible," she told him. "And you won't learn the procedure in ten minutes."
"Don't let that Maquis captain get on your nerves, Tom," Ridge warned.
Tom snorted. "I think I've read the memo, Ridge."
"I'm just saying it," Ridge insisted miserably. "And those roughnecks, too. I don't trust hot colony people."
"You don't like letting your boss out of the kitchen," Tom grinned back at him.
"I thought about that, too." Coming around the flat, Ridge knelt down and punched the extenders. They slid out of their bearings and crawled under the generator with only a few squeaks. When Tom pushed the rest of the unit under, Ridge hit the lift and the big metal box rumbled up onto the base.
B'Elanna immediately examined the unit, checking to make sure the move went well on the inside, too. Generators could take phasers hits to their shells, but the machinery inside was annoyingly sensitive. Units were not designed for mobility. Satisfied, she gave Tom a nod and grabbed her tool pouch. "See you later," she said to her tech and walked up the gangway.
"I'll be waiting for you when you get back," Ridge told them both.
"Yes, Mother," Tom grinned as he locked the generator into place. Giving his friend another look, though, he added, "We'll see you soon."
With that, Tom slapped the hatch control and moved up into the shuttle. Taking his seat in the pilot's couch, his checked the controls again. He'd flown over without a problem, but there was a difference between a ship jump and a planetary landing. More, the shuttle was Bajoran in origin, very old-pre-occupation, in fact-though it would get them where they needed to go and back. The panels had been refitted to Federation standard, so that most ordinary Maquis could read it. For Tom, it'd just been a while since he'd seen a Bajoran configuration. To him, it was a little counterintuitive. It didn't take but a minute to get his bearings, though, and plot in a landing solution.
He looked over at B'Elanna. "Ready?"
"Let's get this over with," she answered.
"Gladly," he replied and tapped the engines into action. Seconds later, they lifted from the Guerdon's aft cargo bay and turned. With a tap, they slid through the forcefield and entered the space just above Sygra-Two. He checked the environmental readouts as it scrolled up and nodded. "Weather's good-for this colony, anyway. Should be smooth going in."
"Just as long as we get there in one piece," she replied. Realizing what she'd said even as she finished the sentence, though, she drew a deep breath and tried to bury it with, "It'll be a long day no matter what the weather is."
Though it stung, Tom knew better than to take it personally. He didn't quite need the reminder just then, though. "We'll land in about eight minutes," he said and angled the shuttle down.
Feeling their descent into the atmosphere begin, B'Elanna leaned back and closed her eyes.
Three generators later, Tom was wiping sweat away from his brow. It'd been a long time since he'd been on such a fireball of a planet, not to mention work on one. He'd probably gulped ten liters of water between trips to hydrate himself, and he'd had to request a sunscreen from Savan to keep his skin from burning. Even B'Elanna was a little uncomfortable by the end of the second run.
"No, I like heat," she told him when he asked. "It's the humidity I can do without."
"Isn't the Klingon Homeworld kind of wet?" Tom asked.
"I couldn't get off that planet fast enough, either," she returned.
Considering how he felt just then, Tom didn't question it.
"So what'd Chakotay contract you to?" queried a tan, strong-armed woman as she helped him and B'Elanna maneuver the big box around to the next installation site.
"We're not on his payroll."
She crooked her head around the edge of the generator to give him a look. "You're not Maquis?"
"That's right," Tom replied coolly. "Just unlucky."
The woman snorted. "Guess so if you're not here for the goodness of your heart."
B'Elanna blew a breath. "The goodness of anyone's heart really doesn't have anything to do with what we're doing right now," she snapped.
"No need to get testy about it," the woman sniffed. "I was just trying to make some conversation."
"Help us get this thing in place and stop asking questions," Tom told her. "You probably don't want to know too much about us as it is."
That silenced the woman more effectively than Tom had expected. Snorting to himself, he wished he'd come up with the line that morning. Cut off from the Federation and not being supplied by anyone not in a rush, the colonists were itching for news and information. For their sake alone, Tom had copied what news feeds they had archived. That didn't take care of their nosiness on the spot, though, and he was having an increasingly difficult time responding with charming repartee when he felt like his skin had been set on a slow boil.
Kicking into the cement to keep some control of the flat cart as they moved down a slight slope, Tom swung the control bar around so they would turn the contraption before getting to the unit housing. The open pit sat just inside the main control building's outer wall, flanked by an array of signal and seismic equipment that kept them from transporting the generator closer. Thankfully, the others were in more convenient positions. "B'Elanna? You got it?" he puffed as he grabbed a corner pylon for balance.
"I've got it. Try to slow it down."
Tom coughed. "Yeah, okay."
Suddenly, another set of hands appeared on the corner. "Let me help you, there," came Captain Chakotay's voice soon after.
Tom brushed off the assistance. "We've got it," he told him and brought the unit around to the housing with a grunt. The thing seemed to get heavier every time he breathed against it. Glancing over, he saw the dark, tattooed man a couple meters away, having indeed let go and watching them finish. He looked a little put off, but Tom didn't care. He was more concerned about securing his grip again and making sure he didn't slip and make an ass of himself in the bargain. "How are we?"
"Just another couple meters, Tom," B'Elanna said. She also could see the Maquis captain waiting there and stifled a growl. "We don't need an audience," she announced. "Isalda, one more push and you're done, too."
"Good!" she huffed and did just that-gave the unit one more push as Tom did, finally easing the unit up almost against the port.
"That's it. Let's get it connected." B'Elanna grabbed her laser wrench as Tom shook out his arms. Kneeling, she popped open the input shield, just like before.
Loosening his shoulders, too, Tom made himself ready to hand her what she needed. Glancing back at the Maquis Captain, he asked, "Come to make sure we didn't install popcorn poppers?"
"Yes," the man answered honestly.
Tom shook his head. "Sixty-two other independent freighters working the border right now. If we're so untrustworthy, why not pick them up instead?"
"Many of them we have," Chakotay replied.
"And the others?" Tom queried. "Are they still operational?"
"I don't keep track of those numbers."
"I'm sure you don't," B'Elanna snipped. "Tom, give me the hyperinverter."
Chakotay looked down at her, then back to Tom. "I don't think we've met."
"That's right," Tom told him as he set the tool in his engineer's waiting hand, "and you won't for a while yet. She's working."
"That beside the fact I'd rather not meet any of you," B'Elanna muttered. Looking back to catch the other captain's eyes straight on, she added, "We're doing your bloodwork. Leave us alone so we can finish this deal and move on, would you?"
Chakotay looked at Tom again. "That's what I came to discuss."
Tom swore between his teeth. Catching B'Elanna's eyes as her head whipped around, he gave her a look. Her stare melted into a glare, but she said nothing that time. Tom knelt by her and pushed her tool kit closer. "I know. Let me handle it."
"You're the captain," she said dourly, turning back to her work.
Tom stood again and moved a couple meters away, leading the Maquis captain as he ran his sweaty arm across his dripping face. "It's not like we didn't think the third run would be the charm," Tom said.
"You didn't trust us, either," Chakotay observed.
Tom laughed. "Well, what you're fighting for aside, you're terrorists and turncoats, and at least a few people on my ship consider you murderers, too. Trust is not exactly on my list of feelings for the Maquis right now."
Captain Chakotay nodded shortly. "I understand."
"Yeah. So what do you need?"
"I need you to run some quick supplies to a series of smaller bases. Most are temporary ports, but they need supplies to get moving and regroup."
"What supplies?" Tom asked.
"Do you need to know?"
"It'll be in my holds. I have a crew to think about. What supplies, Captain?"
"Weapons, power sources, standard provisions."
"How do they get to where they need to go?"
"I'm working those details out. You'll know before you get out of the DMZ." Then, Chakotay lowered his voice. "I believe you now, by the way, about the Starship Berlin. We checked their course records and some of the open communiqués, and so we know the Guerdon was a random find after your power failure. I hope you can understand why we're paranoid."
"It's not that hard to figure out," Tom replied.
"You've done good work for us," the Maquis continued, frank and friendly that time. "And the way you fly that old shuttle proves you're still as good a pilot as your record boasts. You can't blame me for wanting to keep you on a while longer."
Tom's blood cooled the moment the comment and his ego and made contact with his better senses. To his shame, his ego put up one hell of a fight in those few seconds. "No, we all knew you'd wring us for all we're worth when you snagged me the first time."
"You did."
His eyes narrowing, Tom crossed his arms. "My question stands, Captain: How long do we have to hang on your rope?"
The coldness worked. Captain Chakotay's facade resumed its former firmness, with a touch of insult that time. "As long as I need you to."
Tom said nothing, but did not divert his attention. It was what he'd expected to hear. Four years and over the border and he still couldn't change his bad luck with other people's politics.
"You'll get your orders when you resume course," the other captain continued. "We're still watching-you and your ship."
When the Maquis turned away, Tom backed off to return to B'Elanna's side. Falling to a knee, he poked through her tools to see what she hadn't picked up yet. She hadn't gotten far. Feeling her eyes turn to him, he paused, sighing. "I'm screwed."