Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager and all characters therein are the property of Americans who are not me. No infringement of copyright is intended.
NB: This story is set approximately around Season 5-7, but not particular spoilers other than this happens after Thirty Days (but after Tom re-makes it to Lieutenant again) and before Drive. Rating T/PG14
OF RYALS & RELATIONSHIPS
Chapter 7 – Bloom of Contention
"Hmm," B'Elanna vented the soft murmur of satisfaction as she checked her reflection yet again for any flaws.
She was an engineer; she was used to wearing pants rather than skirts - it was a lot easier to walk, run, crawl, wriggle, squirm, scrape, climb and haul yourself around an engineering deck; outside of work that attire was also a lot more suitable and convenient. Besides, she'd never really been put in skirts. Miral Torres was a full-blood Klingon, daughter of Miral, daughter Oholkah, daughter of Shaholu, of the Clan of Gathkor the Invincible, Sword-Bearer of the Nine Great Warriors of Horth, Keeper of the Chalice of Perpetual Pain, etc., etc…clothing with pretty floral patterns wouldn't been placed within a light-year of her only daughter.
Nonetheless, it was occasionally, very rarely, nice to dress in something that was designed for no other reason than to accentuate the feminine form's nicer features rather than functionality.
The senior crew had been invited to what the Captain called a soiree with some of the local Ryzak trader bigwigs. Feeling mellow after an afternoon of being manicured, pedicured, massaged, oiled and pampered, Captain Janeway had agreed – it was always best to keep in with the locals if you could. The only issue was that uniforms of any civil or military designation were completely passé, and a serious diplomatic faux pas, as wearing uniforms would imply that the Voyagers did not believe their hosts' security personnel were competent enough to handle any trouble. So Janeway had accordingly instructed her people to comply, while of course finding some way to holster their phasers on their person unnoticeably, just in case.
Actually, it had all been rather fun. Though only the senior staff were going, to B'Elanna's relief, the female contingent of the lower decks had relished the opportunity to kit out the female attendees appropriately – especially one fashion-challenged semi-Klingon. Although B'Elanna had tried to instil a little fear: 'I am not one of your daughter's dress-up dolls, Ensign Wildman!' it didn't seem to have worked that well. B'Elanna had intended something floor length, concealing, black and utilitarian but Crewman Jor had practically started to purr over this burgundy velvet thing and Ensign Wildman had simply ignored the hesitant protests of B'Elanna and even the skittish of Seven of Nine.
Still…B'Elanna gave one last twirl, admitting that the dress made her feel very pleased in some indefinable way even though it seemed to show acres of flesh. It was completely strapless, and the décolletage was a shallow V-cut that seemed to only cup the lower half of her breasts, before the 'back' of the dress, what little there was of it, dipped down to just cover the lower part of her spine; the dress then came in at the waist before flaring out slightly in waving folds to just below knee length. Somehow, Ensign Wildman had been too busy with everyone else to get round to replicating a shawl or jacket. She had from somewhere produced this matching set of jewellery; a pendant necklace, earrings, bracelet, ring and wrist-timepiece of rubies and gold that had apparently been a wedding anniversary gift from her Katarian husband, the father Naomi had never met.
Satisfied that despite her disadvantaging brow ridges, she would look presentable alongside the truly beautiful women present such as Seven of Nine and of course Captain Janeway, B'Elanna turned her attention back to the infuriating box. Jeren had given Vorik a small box of light relays as spares for engineering, refusing to accept any charge despite B'Elanna's urgings. Unfortunately, the opening mechanism was faulty, and Vorik had been unable to get it to work, so had given it to B'Elanna. Prior to having a sonic shower and dressing ready for this evening, B'Elanna had also tried her best, but nothing happened when she pressed the release button. Returning the box to Jeren because it was faulty would be unforgivably churlish but they could do with spare relays because they went through those faster than about everything else; nor did B'Elanna want to have to lie when Jeren inevitably asked her if the relays had been the correct type, but she couldn't double-check if she couldn't open…the…damn…thing!
With a barely audible whoosh the doors of their quarters slid back and The Most Hateful Male Ever, a.k.a. Tom Paris, walked in. He checked at the sight of her, and B'Elanna experienced a frisson of smugness at the instant male response she saw in his eyes as they got a load of her outfit before he went all po-faced and self-righteous again.
"Is the bathroom free?" he asked stiltedly.
What did he expect her to say? That she'd got all dressed up like this first, and now she was going to do her ablutions? Merely answering that it was, B'Elanna concentrated on the more important priority of opening the box than of soothing Mr Ego's wounded pride, but it was still proving obstinate and she seriously considered taking a phaser to it.
"What are you doing?" Tom's puzzled tone broke into her concentration.
She looked up, realising that he'd had time to shower, shave and get dressed up in what he derogatorily termed the 'full penguin suit' of formal evening attire. He looked delicious, and once upon a time she'd have had a lot of fun jumping his bones for a quickie before they went out. He should be so lucky, was her only thought now. "Jeren threw in a box of relays for free, but the release button isn't working properly," B'Elanna summarised, ignoring the way his face darkened at the first part but then smirked at the second part of her explanation; so childish – wait a minute, had the lid moved a little?
She tried again, oblivious to Tom's words as he adjusted his jacket and checked out his own reflection. She must have caught it right, for the lid suddenly sprang up and back as she pressed the release button in as hard as she was able. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched in surprise at the contents.
"….all, I suppose." Tom stopped as it dawned on him that he was talking to himself but then he took in the look of astonishment on B'Elanna's face as she stared into the box she'd managed to open.
"B'Elanna?"
She didn't answer, instead placing one hand inside the box and bringing out…a bloom. It rested on her palm; about the size of a baseball and a perfect semi-sphere in shape. It resembled that unpronounceable flower…Harry had cousins who used the symbol in honour of their connection to the Japanese Imperial Family who used the same emblem…the Chrysalis Throne – no, the Chrysanthemum Throne. It looked very similar to a Chrysanthemum, but was instead a glowing rainbow of soft pastel hues, as if someone had painted it baby pink, lemon, peach, aquamarine and cerulean, and then lacquered every petal with a dusting of silver glitter.
"A gesture of my appreciation for all your fine work, which is as perfect as you."
B'Elanna murmured the words almost under her breath and Tom realised she was reading something – Jeren must have included a note…Unaware his hands were clenched into fists, Tom gave the hateful thing a glare that should have reduced it to smouldering ash, before stalking forward and trying to take it from B'Elanna.
She pushed his hand away, standing up and sheltering the bloom with her other hand as she kept it in her palm, and glaring at him. "What are you doing?"
"Incinerating a bio-hazard!" Tom snapped sharply. "We have no way of telling what could be infesting every millimetre of those petals."
"Absolutely nothing!" B'Elanna was outraged and out of patience with his antics. "This box had to pass through two micro-decontamination scans and quarantine to get from the surface to Voyager just like everything else. There's more likely to be a bio-hazard from Neelix's cooking!"
"You're not seriously going all giggly over a flower!" Tom scorned rashly.
The situation deteriorated rapidly from thereon.
To be continued…
© 2005, C D Stewart