He found her in one of the old hangars.
There was no sense in being quiet. The heels of Aron's boots echoed loudly on the hard floors, resonating on walls that had been witness to countless of Malta's previous aggressions.
Those were different times. Now the only things that these walls were left to observe were the results of his sister's prodigy. Or rather: the result of his sister's prodigy.
No doubt, there were countless things that occupied her: the Argo, hover-sports and once in a while, even helping him and their father, but this…
"She's a beautiful ship," he remarked, watching how the sun danced on the ships hull from the high windows
B'Elanna sat sprawled near the hatch, fumbling with a few parts. She smiled but didn't look up from her scans.
"I see you've found me."
"It was easier this time," he informed her, slumping down next to her. "When Sillo dropped your things he said you went to the shuttle bay. When I came to fetch you, the guard told me you'd already left. Since I know you weren't home and not in the race track, I knew I'd find you here."
"I'm becoming predictable. I should take her and move again so that she can have her peace."
He gave a rather hearty laugh, patting the big hunk of engineered metal behind him. "Afraid that Jake will know where you are?"
"Jake always knows where I am. If he doesn't, he'll find out soon enough. More the reason why I should finish this up and get her space worthy; I'd hate to have to relocate her again."
There was an undercurrent of irritation in her voice, mixed with that of amusement and affection. He knew that his sister liked having their cousin's attention; it was his constant attention that she found annoying. This wasn't the first time she'd run off to be alone. It had bothered him and his father in the past, but gradually they'd come to understand her need for solitude.
It was this new trend of slipping away undetected that worried him…among other things.
He took a deep breath and wondered how he was going to get her to talk to him. She was so stubborn, and fiercely independent. He'd gotten used to her mood swings, which had gotten better after the time she'd spent with Jake.
Maybe it was best to start with the little things.
"I heard of you had another incident at the race circuit today."
There was a loud clang as she slammed a hyperspanner down and picked up a probe, not looking at him.
"Are you going to give me another lecture? Because Koran already gave me one and believe me it was pretty extensive. I doubt you'll say anything that he hasn't already covered."
"Like the dreams?" he asked.
Aron felt like banging his head on the floor. Whatever happened to starting with the little things? He'd obviously started on the wrong end, and even if it just slipped out, he knew it would do little to assuage his sister's anger.
Might as well just go with it.
"This is the fifth accident you've had in two months, I'm amazed that they haven't disqualified you yet, much less throw you out of the tracks."
"That's because I'm too good," she answered glibly. "This is just a minor setback."
"Which can turn into a major one if you don't stop and tell me what's wrong," he answered, his voice taking in a gentle but firm tone.
"You've been distracted B'Elanna, by something, B'Eanna. I think it's those dreams that you just won't admit to having," he confronted. "And just in case you want to kill Koran after this, I didn't find out because of him. You forget that our rooms share the same wall, and for the past months I've heard you wake up screaming."
He continued when she didn't say anything.
It may only be close to seven months, Maltan time, but he could already gauge her mood swings so well. The first weeks had been difficult, but he—they-never gave up. When he saved her from the slave market, he had only intended to treat her injuries before returning her to her people.
But no one had come to claim her, or went even looking for her, and the Renarran traders who sold her could tell them nothing about her history, only that they'd acquired her from one of their sources.
Her injuries were extensive. Broken bones, internal bleeding, a fractured skull…others would have died, but she managed to survive. Her recovery was rapid, considering her injuries, though not without its challenges. They'd never seen anyone like her, her species. Koran had been very impressed: redundant organs, increased stamina, stronger bone density…Maltans were a hardy breed and B'Elanna—even with her small frame—had the strength of an average male.
Though that did not prevent any negative effects from happening…when she woke up a she hardly remembered anything.
Amnesia.
That was the word she had used when they explained her situation to her, angry, scared, and bewildered. They had tried recovering her memories, but with no previous knowledge of her biology, they just never knew how to start. Physicians were still studying her case, so in the mean time, Aronhe had taken herim home with himer, where his father welcomed her and treated her like the daughter he never had.
His whole family had fallen in love with her, and despite her initial reluctance, she loved them back. She still had—in so many ways—her reservations, but she had adapted to life her in Malta remarkably well.
Except for when the dreams started.
"I know you have them.,if you stand next to the air vent" he told her. "At first I thought you were crying, but then I realized that you were dreaming. I don't even think you know you had them. You'd be at the breakfast table the following morning, looking…normal. Like you hadn't spent the previous evening thrashing in your sleep…but they've gotten worse, haven't they?"
She hesitated at first, but then she looked at him with guilt stricken eyes.
"Does father know?" she asked softly.
"No. He's aware that something is bothering you, but he wants you to bring up the subject. He trusts your judgment."
Which made things hurt all the more.
"He hasn't found out about your recent accidents, either. He knows you've had a few incidences, but he regards them as sport injuries. It won't be long before he notices something."
She had stopped working now and was just sitting there, picking imaginary lint from her leather race pants while staring off into space. The sun was beginning to set, and it hit her eyes through the old, broken slats. Her eyes turned golden brown in the sunlight, but she didn't even blink.
The air in the hanger was musty, old. There was dust everywhere, the only clean place being her working area. She had been here for months, building a shuttle—granted, a different kind shuttle—trying to drown old demons.
They already knew her penchant for extreme sports, but when she paidhad done a visit to one of the nearby air bases, it was like magic. She had spent more time with the base crew and technicians than she did with them, staying well into the night just testing the shuttles. One of the engineers had taken her for a ride on one of their newer fighters then showed her the mechanics as soon as they landed.
It just seemed as if another door to her past had opened, but this time a better one, a brighter one.
She'd learned their systems in a week. On the second, they had her shadowing one of the crew. At the end of two months, she'd mastered it all and had asked if she could design a shuttle.
She had "an idea" and would like to try it out. Everyone was just stunned by her achievement that they couldn't say no.
So here she stayed, working on her ship oin her spare time. Or sometimes she even made time. It was her private time, spent in her own space. She'd guarded these moments very well and would move to another location anytime she felt like someone was already trying to intrude, not telling them where and just waiting for them to find out.
Which they always did.
"When I woke up…you know I didn't remember much," she started. "Just my name, and that I wasn't from around here. We had some clues as to who I was, what I was like, but you know that there hasn't been anything concrete."
She took a deep breath before continuing.
"But lately, I've been having these dreams…nightmares of when I was taken. I was in a planet, doing…something when they took me. We…we ran from them. But he was injured, and I just…I couldn't help him. I was so exhausted. I had to leave him…"
He noticed that she didn't cry. Instead she looked resolute, almost clinical, detaching herself from the pain he knew she must have felt in her sleep.
"Do you remember him?" he asked.
"What?"
"I asked if you remembered him. You mentioned that you had to leave him., dDo you remember his name? What he looks like?"
"I…I don't," she lied. "All my memories have been vague so far. It's like…they're vivid when I'm dreaming them, but as soon as I wake up it all just…goes away. And I can't remember anything except for what I have now."
Somehow he knew that she was lying, that she was holding something back. But she was beginning to open up, that was progress enough.
"Why don't you try writing them down, B'Elanna," he suggested. "Maybe we'll eventually find something useful."
She gave him a rather wry smile. "Anxious to be rid of me, Aron?"
"And miss chasing after you?" he answered back. "No, I think I'll keep you a while longer."
They both laughed, B'Elanna giving him a playful punch in the arm while he gamely pushed her back, acting like squabbling young children.
He missed this.
"C'mon, let's go home. Father won't be back in a while, but I have a feeling that someone will come looking for you if you're not back when he calls. So unless you want to find another hiding place-"
"I'm not hiding!"
"You'd better move. Now."
She rolled her eyes and grumbled while she started gathering her tools, but she knew it was time to go. She'd had a long day, accident and all, and he could tell that she was exhausted.
While waiting for her, he reached out and ran his hand on the smooth outer hull of the ship. It was smaller than the usual transports that they had, certainly a different design. Very few people had seen his sisters "secret project", and the select ones who did were impressed.
"You should name her," he said, buffing a smudged spot. "She's almost done. Unless you just plan to call her Ship."
She stuck her tongue out.
"I don't think she wants to be named yet. I'll know it when she's ready to tell me."
"A telepathic ship, what an interesting idea!"
For some reason, the joke didn't settle well with B'Elanna. Aron noticed the slight change in his sister's behavior and quickly changed the subject.
"She's an amazing ship B'Elanna. I can't wait to see her fly."
"You and me both," she beamed ."I've got her on warp 5.5 already."
Aron's eyes widened. Their interstellar ships could only go up to warp 7, their shuttles had a maximum speed of warp 4.75. And yet here was his sister looking like she was bucking for warp 6.
"How in spirit's name did you do that?"
B'Elanna merely shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just souping it up. I just thought about it and implemented the change. Don't tell anyone though. I'm not even sure if it will really hold up to 5.5, we won't know until we test it."
"My sister the engineer," he said proudly. "C'mon, let's go."
After shutting down some lights and locking the hanger, where the two of them trudged up the beaten path to the common street, where a car was already waiting for them.
It was evening now, and he watched as B'Elanna wrapped a scarf around her throat, lightly bouncing on her heels to help get warm. For such a tough race, he never could understand her susceptibility to the cold. All he had on was a light jacket, while B'Elanna had just donned on a sweatshirt. He wished he could increase the temperature of their transport, but he was baking just looking at her.
"Don't worry, it's not very far from the car," he assured her, nodding briefly at the man standing near one of the bushes.
The man answered with nod, gesturing to another sentry before bringing out his communicator.
"Asher to Ghetti Base."
There was a brief click as the person from the other end acknowledged his call.
"The Chancellor has just left with the Provisional Crown."
Aron and B'Elanna settled into their routines as soon as they got home.