"Interesting radiation readings," I remark as we look at the scans of Tongir, a small, M-class planet. "It looks similar to the Van Allen belt around Earth, but denser."

Chakotay looks at me expectantly: He knows what's coming. "Let's get a shuttle down there for some scans," I order.

Chakotay peers at his screen. "Ensign Baytart's available. We could send him down with one of the science officers."

"I'm going," I interrupt. "I'm rather curious about this." Chakotay manages to keep a straight face, but I'm sure I heard a sigh from Tuvok's direction. Tom glances back from the helm; our eyes meet for a second before he returns to his console.

I get the message: "Please take me along!" I'm considering this when my communicator squawks:

"Doctor to the Captain: I've taken Ensign Baytart off duty. He became ill after eating Neelix's lunch special — Leola Tex-Mex Surprise. The surprise is that he didn't die."

Half the bridge staff suddenly looks queasy."All right, Doctor," I tell him. "Let's hope no one else gets a surprise."

"Glad I missed lunch," Chakotay murmurs. "Well, Ensign Collins is next up …"

And here's my chance. I put a hand up to stop him. "Mr. Paris."

Tom seems to have trouble controlling his smirk. "Yes, Captain?"

"Has Ensign Collins had her required helm shifts?"

"Actually, she's a bit short this month," he reports.

I turn back to Chakotay, who looks resigned. "I believe the Delta Flyer is the best equipped to study this radiation band. So let's give Collins some helm time, shall we?" I nod at Tom, who wastes no time in starting the preparations.

ooo

"We have an all-clear from the Doctor. What do you think?" Tom asks. He's antsy. So am I. We've been scanning the radiation belt for the past two hours. While it's fascinating, we'd like to see the planet below.

"Do you have a descent path?" He nods. "Close to the ones we use for entering Earth's atmosphere," he says with a hint of annoyance.

"Tell Voyager we're going in. Let's do some sightseeing."

"Aye, Captain," he says with a grin.

"I'll scan for life signs or anything we can use. Then let's find a nice scenic spot to put down. I'd like to stretch my legs," I tell him.

His grin gets wider. "Yes, ma'am."

Tom keeps the Flyer in high orbit as I carefully watch the scans. "No satellites. No signs of a planetary defense grid," I murmur. "Maybe that radiation belt is their defense," Tom replies.

My heart sinks as the scan picks up life signs; I was hoping for a quick look at an uninhabited planet. "Most of the northern continents have fairly large cities. No sign of warp or ion trails, but they have aircraft."

"Meaning there's some form of tracking, and likely some defenses," Tom says.

I sigh. "Let's stay out of reach. I don't want to risk being shot down."

ooo

The southern continents are settled, too, though not as densely. "Still no indication of any faster-than-light travel," Tom murmurs. "We're out of luck, unless …" He resets coordinates. "Can we try the area around the equator?"

"Since you've already decided," I admonish, "go ahead."

It was a good idea. The area is densely forested, and scans indicate a couple of major rivers.

"Very humid," Tom calls. "Almost what you'd expect before a storm."

"A rain forest, then," I joke, eliciting a groan from the helm. I look over the scans again. "No life signs or aircraft in the immediate area. Let's find a safe spot to put down."

It takes a few minutes, but we find a small clearing. Tom puts us down gently, close to a stand of trees for cover.

Another round of scans to make sure there are no atmospheric surprises. "It's 32 degrees with 88 percent humidity," I announce. "A lot like Indiana in the summer."

"Our uniforms are going to be uncomfortable," Tom remarks.

"Yes, and red doesn't exactly blend in," I add. We quickly replicate athletic clothes and lightweight, flexible-sole boots in a green camouflage pattern. Tom grins when he realizes that I've lost a few inches in height. "Yes, it's the boots," I say resignedly as I try to tuck my hair under a hat.

He grins again. "I think you're always commanding," he says as he hands me a dark green bandana. "Try this."

Finally, Tom grabs our day pack, and we open the shuttle door. We both gasp: It's like being hit in the face with a wet towel. We take a few breaths and set off. It's beautiful: lush and green. Peaceful, too — the only thing I hear is bird calls. But I still keep the tricorder on a continuous scan.

We head toward the sound of rushing water. "Sounds like a waterfall," Tom murmurs.

A few more minutes, and we come upon a sight that's better than just one waterfall: It's a semi-circle of small waterfalls cascading into the canyon, down to the river below. It's image-perfect, and I'm about to tell Tom that when I realize that he's holding a holo-imager.

"It's Doc's," he says to my raised eyebrow. "He asked for some images."

We move closer. I can see small caves behind some of the waterfalls — there's a path to take us down. But not just yet: Tom waits patiently while I scan the area, with particular attention to the water. "It's safe," I pronounce.

We thread our way down the path; it's narrow and wet. But we step carefully and hold hands for support. We finally get to a small clearing, and I busy myself by grabbing samples of plants, plus a few rocks for good measure.

I'm trying to figure out how to get a water sample when I notice Tom looking at me. Actually, the look is a bit disapproving, so I turn on the "Captain's not happy" voice.

"Yes, Mr. Paris?"

"Permission to speak freely?" He does sound annoyed. "All right, what's on your mind."

"I get that we need to bring something back, help make the trip worthwhile," he whispers. "But we're standing in an area that no human has ever seen and may never see again. Can't you just take a minute to enjoy it? It's not often that we get a minute of peace."

My first instinct is to snap back, but I realize that he's right. "That is the reason we came down, isn't it?" I reply. We stand quietly for a few moments, just taking it all in.

But we can't stay forever, so we move toward the smaller waterfalls at the edge of the display. There's a narrow ledge behind the first waterfall, so we slip through, backs to the wall. Right now, I'm very thankful that we changed boots.

After that, the path widens, and we're just at the second waterfall when my tricorder starts to beep. Life signs! A quick check: "Not from the cave," I whisper, but Tom's already figured it out. "Voices! They're ahead of us," he whispers back. He's half right; the echos tell me they're below us, and the tricorder confirms that they're actually on the other side of the canyon.

We duck into the cave. It's reasonably dry, but it's a tight fit for two. Tom sits against the back wall, legs open, knees bent, then motions for me to sit in front of him. I scoot in, and he wraps his arms around my midsection and pulls me close. I can feel his heart beating against my back; he can probably feel mine, too. I relax against him, and I can feel his chin resting against my head.

The voices draw closer, echoing through the canyon. We can see just enough through the water and mist to make out five humanoids walking on a lower ledge. Light blue skin, black hair of varying lengths, long legs and arms. They move easily, almost elegantly. "Height differences," Tom whispers. "Males and females?" I nod in agreement. I can't make out the clothing. Bodysuits, perhaps? In a gray that would be at home in a Starfleet rec center.

They stop and look around the ledge, then look down to the river. One of them climbs on a rock and says something to the others … then executes a perfect dive into the river. I assume he or she landed in the water, for the others begin to chatter and clap.

One by one, they dive — or jump — into the water. The translators are kicking in now, and at first, it's hard to decipher; they speak very quickly. But we catch on, and listen to them tease, dare each other to swim to the larger waterfalls. We're puzzled by one sound: It's melodious. It comes and goes, then rises in bursts.

I chuckle. "You know, I think they're laughing. It's just a group of kids out for a swim," I say.

"Wish I could join them," Tom remarks. "Me, too," I agree. I can feel him grinning against my ear, and I wonder if he can feel my heart speed up. "You're into cliff diving?"

"Not cliffs, old limestone quarries," I say. "There's a number of them around Bloomington. They're very deep, and we weren't supposed to swim there, but …" He chuckles softly, and it's a nice sound.

Lulled by the sound of the water and the voices, I lean my head back and close my eyes …

ooo

I awake with a start, and Tom's arms tighten around me. "It's OK," he whispers. "You fell asleep."

Oh, great. "How long?"

"About a half-hour. Good timing, actually; our friends just left. I think they were students, said something about a school trip. Sounds like they went back the way they came."

"We should get out of here before anyone else shows up," I say. Though I'm feeling warm and content, and I don't want to move. I scoot anyway and turn to face Tom.

He's smiling softly at me, and the sight is enough to make me catch my breath. He notices, and the look in his eyes shifts to something else … tenderness … hope …? I suspect the same things are mirrored on my face because I have an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him.

At this point, my inner Captain and what's left of me are arguing. Kissing your helmsman isn't exactly professional behavior, the Captain scolds. Neither is sleeping in his lap, I retort. But we both agree that it felt so damn good to sleep in his arms … and that being held ... well, it felt like home.

But the Captain is going to win this round. This isn't the time or the place, no matter how tempted I am. So I gently squeeze his shoulder. "We need to go," I say apologetically.

We're silent as we make our way through the trails, tricorder on full scan again. I did make a quick stop to get that water sample.

To our relief, the Flyer is undisturbed, and we quickly climb in."You want to change?" Tom asks as he prepares for takeoff. I shake my head: The communications module is lit up. Tuvok's probably planning the rescue mission. I return the message via text. "We're fine; planet not warp-capable. Had to dodge some inhabitants. Will report when we're 10 minutes away."

I glance at the ship's chronometer: We'd been here for 90 minutes, counting my nap time. I mention this to Tom, who laughs. "Seems like years, doesn't it?"

We talk about the planet and what we saw, about our soaked clothes, about everything except that moment in the cave.

Finally, we glide into Voyager's Shuttle Bay 2. Chakotay and Tuvok are waiting. They can wait a few more minutes; I'm helping Tom with shutdown procedures. When we finish, I grab the day pack, and he falls in behind me. At the door, I turn to him.

"Tom …" I begin.

He gives me that soft smile again. "I know," he whispers. "You're safe with me."

ooo

Life goes on. Tom and I still joke on the Bridge; we have a minor run-in with a species that claims we're trespassing; and in my quarters, I now fall asleep to waterfall sounds.

Finally, my days off, well off the Bridge, anyway. Not that I have anything planned. I'm debating my dinner options when my vid pings with a personal message.

"Care to do some cliff diving, or perhaps some quarry diving? I've created a holoprogram for each. Take your pick. (and you can replicate a suit in the programs). Meet you at Holodeck 3 at 1800 hours.

T"

My inner Captain starts to whisper to me, and for once I ignore her. I write the reply before I lose my nerve.

"Cliff diving, please! See you at 1800.

K"