Welcome to Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 season premiere. Our goal
is to redo Voyager's seventh and final season to fit our vision
of what could have been. The first four episodes are set before
Shattered, then we split completely from official canon.
Sit back, put your feet up and enjoy.
Comments are most welcome.
The guiding principal of Season 7.5 was to
keep those elements of Voyager's final season,
as presented by TPTB, which we felt remained
true to the original series concept, while
"fixing" what we felt caused the series to go
astray in its final year.
Although Julie and Jamelia enjoyed how B'Elanna
Torres and Thomas Paris came together
(finally!) and became man and wife in "Drive"
(an episode that is accepted as part of Season
7.5's canon), their marriage may truly be said
to have begun in "Lineage." Thus, this two-part
episode of Season 7.5 is based upon that
Voyager episode. At the end of the second part
of "Legacies," an Afterword discussing our
rationale for revising "Lineage" rather than
doing something totally different will appear,
for those interested in reading it.
For those who would have preferred we totally
ditch the events of "Lineage," we're sorry, but
there was too much good in the episode for
that. Hopefully, you can enjoy "Legacies" for
the way the not-so-good was handled by us.
Thanks are due to James Kahn, who wrote
"Lineage." Although it was a Cardassian ship
that found its way into the Delta Quadrant
during Voyager Season 7.5, not a Klingon one,
we also acknowledge our debt to Larry Nemecek &
J. Kelley Burke and Raf Green & Kenneth Biller
for the story of "Prophecy," as well as to Mike
Sussman & Phyllis Strong, who wrote the
teleplay. We won't claim we wrote what we did
not--we've just got a little alternate universe
thing going on here on Voyager Season 7.5 . . .
Julie and Jamelia
LEGACIES
Prologue
Their mission had been a brief one, taking
only the better part of the day, but it had
been immensely successful, at least to hear
B'Elanna and Seven tell it.
"It's over ninety-nine percent pure."
B'Elanna's voice held a bit of awe as she
punched numbers into a dataPADD. "That's
almost unheard of."
"Ninety-nine point two six percent, to be
precise."
It was an indication of B'Elanna's intense
concentration that she didn't react to Seven's
correction.
"Only one point six percent of diallo-silicate
approaches that level of purity," Icheb chimed
in as he crouched down next to Seven and
B'Elanna.
"Imagine how well this will bond with our raw
dilithium."
Tom shook his head at his B'Elanna's excited
tone. "It's not like we permanently solved
all our energy needs."
"No, but it will make our dilithium crystals
last twice as long."
Tom looked at Harry, who was manning the co-
pilot's seat in the Delta Flyer. "Mission
accomplished." He glanced back at the others.
"We always manage to find what we need. What's
the big deal?"
Seven gave Tom a cool stare, and B'Elanna
glowered good-naturedly at him. "Just drive,
Tom."
Tom returned his wife's smirk. "Okaaay." He
turned back to the helm and entered a minor
course correction. "By the way, Icheb, I
added your upgrades to my race car program.
You were right about the engine performance.
I tried out the hairpin course and beat my
best time by 27 seconds."
Icheb handed Seven the last sample they'd
scanned. "I believe I can surpass my best
time by at least 30 seconds. I have the
holodeck reserved tomorrow night."
"You keep practicing, and you might even beat
me one day," Tom said, though he didn't
believe it for a minute.
"I will surpass your time one day," Icheb said
confidently. "It is only a matter of which
day."
Harry chuckled as Tom raised his eyebrows.
"Maybe I'll join you tomorrow night, Icheb.
Tom's record can't be too hard to beat."
"Racing in an antiquated carburetor-based
vehicle is a pointless endeavor," Seven told
Icheb before Tom could reply to Harry's
deliberate baiting. "There are more productive
endeavors you could pursue in your off duty
hours."
"It's not pointless if it's fun," Tom said, not
particularly offended by Seven's judgment.
They'd had this argument before. It enlivened
their occasional shared navigational watches.
Seven responded right on cue. "It still serves
little purpose."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes, though her attention
remained on the sample she was replacing in
the storage container. "Everything doesn't
have to serve a purpose, Seven."
"Besides, it does serve a purpose," Tom said.
"You only live once, and the real goal is to
enjoy yourself. I like my job, but I don't
want to spend all my time doing only that." He
glanced at B'Elanna. "There are other things
I enjoy more."
"According to my studies on humanoid physiology
'play' is an important element of mental and
physical well-being for most species."
Tom nodded. "Exactly, Icheb. All work and no
play makes for a dull existence."
B'Elanna looked at Tom. "I know there are
times when I'm in the mood to . . .play."
Tom grinned at his wife's suggestive tone, and
Harry groaned.
"Alternating periods of recreation also
improves work efficiency," Icheb added,
completely missing the innuendo.
"That must be why my department had such a high
efficiency rating in your last audit, Seven,"
Tom said, with no modesty whatsoever.
Seven's eyebrow rose. "I doubt that is the
causative factor behind the helm department's
efficiency, Lieutenant Paris. However I will
concede that your propensity for unproductive
and frequently juvenile holoprograms does not
appear to have had a critical impact upon your
job performance."
Harry snickered, and Tom smirked at him. "I
wouldn't laugh too hard, *Buster.*"
"That's the last sample," B'Elanna announced,
sealing the container. She rose from her
crouching position. "We can finish the . . ."
"Lieutenant Torres!"
Tom whirled around at Icheb's exclamation, just
in time to see Seven and Icheb catch B'Elanna
as she fell. They guided her to the nearest
chair, and lowered her into it.
"Harry, take the conn."
Tom didn't wait for Harry's answer. He was at
B'Elanna's side by the time she stirred. He
knelt next to her as she mumbled something
incoherent. "Icheb, get the medical scanner
from the storage locker."
B'Elanna sat up straighter, shaking her head as
if to clear it. "What happened?"
"You fainted for a few seconds," Tom said,
touching her cheek. She wasn't feverish.
B'Elanna snorted, though it was half-hearted.
"That's ridiculous!"
"During periods of illness or extreme fatigue
it is not uncommon for Klingons to experience
a drop in blood pressure, resulting in
unconsciousness," Seven stated.
B'Elanna scowled at her. "I'm only half
Klingon. And I'm not ill or fatigued."
Tom took the scanner from Icheb, and put a
restraining hand on B'Elanna's arm as she
started to rise. "Just relax while I scan
you."
"I'm fine," B'Elanna said irritably, though she
didn't try to get up again. "I probably just
stood up too quickly. And I didn't eat much
lunch."
"Or breakfast?" Tom asked, running the scanner
over her. She'd left their quarters before
him this morning, and he knew she sometimes
didn't bother with breakfast if she was in a
hurry to start her shift. He looked at the
readout. "Your blood sugar is low. You need
to eat more regularly, B'Elanna, and quit
skipping meals--"
"I can handle my own eating habits, thank
you . . ." B'Elanna's sharp rebuke trailed off
as Tom looked up at her with the most
astonished expression she'd ever seen on his
face. "What?"
Tom didn't speak. He looked at the scanner
again, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't
believe what he was seeing. That alarmed
B'Elanna.
"Tom, what's wrong?"
Tom shook his head slowly, sounding dazed when
he finally spoke. "Nothing. I mean, it's
nothing bad--"
"Tom!"
"You're pregnant."
"I'm . . .WHAT?" She couldn't have heard him
right.
"Pregnant," Tom repeated patiently.
B'Elanna stared at him, stunned. "Pregnant?"
she squeaked, her voice suddenly small.
"How . . ."
Tom's lips quirked a little, though he still
couldn't quite believe it himself. "The usual
way, I'd say."
The silence in the Delta Flyer lasted for
several moments as B'Elanna and Tom looked at
each other intently, both trying to take it
in. It was Seven who finally spoke. "You
appear surprised by this development. Did you
not intend to conceive a child?" she asked,
her tone curious and slightly disapproving.
"Of course, we did." Tom kept his gaze on
B'Elanna. "That's why we discontinued our
contraceptive boosters. But the doctor told
us the likelihood of human-Klingon conception
was extremely low. We didn't expect it to
happen this soon." Or perhaps ever, not
without medical intervention. "It's a bit of a
surprise." That was an understatement. "But a
wonderful one."
"Are you sure?" B'Elanna's voice was soft, and
a little uncertain.
Tom dropped a hand on her knee. "Absolutely."
His wide smile left no doubt of that. He was
going to be a father. The idea delighted him.
B'Elanna covered his hand with hers and smiled
slowly back.
"Congratulations," Harry said, with complete
sincerity. "Though I can't say I'm all that
surprised you beat those odds, given your
level of, er, activity. That had to improve
your chances."
Tom couldn't help grinning at Harry's chutzpah,
though B'Elanna gave Harry a reproving frown.
"I guess we'll all have to be careful now,"
Harry added. He winked at Icheb. "Pregnancy
might be contagious."
Icheb's brow furrowed. "That is not possible
with single-cell fertilization."
Harry glanced at Seven, who gave him a shrewd
look. "Uh, I was just joking, Icheb," he
said, trying not to blush at the reminder of
the last time he'd discussed single-cell
fertilization with a former Borg.
Tom, too preoccupied to pay much attention to
the conversation around him, turned off the
medical scanner. "We'll go to Sickbay and see
the doctor as soon as we get back on Voyager."
B'Elanna nodded silently, more acquiescent than
usual to the idea of visiting Sickbay.
"Speaking of which, Harry . . ."
Harry looked at Tom.
"You might want to correct our course, or we're
going to crash into the bridge instead of
landing in the shuttlebay."
Harry followed Tom's gaze to where Voyager was
now visible through the front viewscreen.
"Oh. Right." He'd never understood Tom's
uncanny ability to see those minute
deflections with only his eyes, but the
computer verified it, and he quickly entered
the correction. "Delta Flyer to Voyager.
We're on final approach."
Tom and B'Elanna continued to smile at each
other bemusedly as the Delta Flyer approached
Voyager, both trying to wrap their minds
around the unexpected curve their lives were
about to take.
Act 1
Thanks to the vigilant and persistent interest
of the Doctor, Icheb had been as diligent in
studying humanoid single-cell reproduction as
he had the manipulation of genetic material to
eliminate inherited diseases and obtain
desirable traits in offspring, not that he had
actually spent much time considering what that
might mean to him personally. Since he had once
had a fleeting rivalry with Lieutenant Paris
because of Lieutenant Torres's brief
attachment to him, however, Icheb found himself
thinking about the subject quite a bit during
the trip back to Voyager.
Lieutenant Paris was very solicitous of his
wife's well-being, asking her several times if
she were comfortable, or if she were dizzy, or
if she might want something to eat or a drink
of water. In fact, Lieutenant Paris had twice
requested that Icheb bring Lieutenant Torres a
glass of water during the brief journey back
to Voyager, even though she had specified that
she did not need anything to drink at that
particular time. Fortunately, her glare was
not directed towards Icheb when he complied
with the pilot's requests, but rather fastened
unblinkingly upon her husband. Icheb also noted
the softening of her features when she sipped
the water, however, and the small, almost
secretive smile that followed. The fluctuation
in her emotional state during the ingestion of
two unflavored glasses of water was quite
fascinating. Even in the earliest stages of
its development, the child appeared to be
changing the relationship of the two
lieutenants in a most profound way.
Except for his brief flirtation with Lieutenant
Torres, Icheb had never considered anyone on
board Voyager as a likely romantic partner. He
was much younger than the entire crew. Now
that Mezoti, Azan and Rebi had left Voyager for
homes provided by the people of a friendly
planet, as had happened previously with the
little unnamed Borg baby, the only one younger
than Icheb was Naomi. She was too young for
him, of course, since she was about ten
Federation standard years younger than he,
about the same difference as Icheb's age in
relation to the youngest of Voyager's crew.
The actual difference in their ages was
somewhat debatable. Icheb's parents had not
confirmed his birthdate during the brief,
bittersweet time he had spent with them before
they sent him off as a sacrifice to the Borg in
a second attempt to destroy the Collective, via
a deadly virus they had placed in his DNA
through their knowledge of gene resequencing.
Icheb's growth had been accelerated to an
unknown degree in the Borg maturation chamber,
as well, but since he had spent only a short
time there, he did not believe it had made a
great difference.
The closest Seven and the Doctor had been able
to come to establishing an age for Icheb in
Federation standard years was 16 years, 2
months--with a possible deviation of 3 months.
If this were true, it was clear that while
Naomi was still very much a child, Icheb was an
adult, albeit a youthful one. In fact, Naomi
had become like Mezoti had been to him, a very
dear little sister. At some date far, far in
the future, the wide gap in age between Naomi
and himself might be less imposing, but he
could never imagine Naomi ever being other than
a good friend.
Thinking about his isolation from the rest of
the crew, by age, and by the happenstance that
he was the only representative of a Delta
Quadrant race that now was far behind Voyager's
course in its journey towards the Alpha
Quadrant, disturbed his equilibrium; and
recalling the virus lurking in his body, and
how it got there, never failed to depress his
efficiency rating. While its presence
suggested that he himself might not have been
conceived in "the usual way," as Lieutenant
Paris had jokingly observed, there was nothing
intrinsically wrong about such an origin.
People of differing races often had to resort
to such means in order to reproduce, as
Lieutenants Paris and Torres had apparently
thought would be necessary in their case.
Icheb was pleased that they had been successful
by using "the usual way," without the need to
tamper with their child's inheritance, the way
his own parents had done.
Icheb went to the replicator and procured
himself a glass of water to fill the sudden
hollowness he detected in his abdominal area.
He then turned his full attention upon his
console during their final approach to the
shuttle bay, studying the sensor readings with
great care to banish his musings from his
mind. He did not want to think about his
parents. Ensign Kim had everything under
control, however, and he could not totally
keep his attention from wandering to the
subject of reproduction as practiced in "the
usual way," more or less, by all of the races
represented on Voyager. To his surprise, this
did not prevent him from being very
discomforted, for visualizing the act was
strangely provoking. It did not help that he
could not easily imagine any partner for
himself in this endeavor. And when he found
himself thinking about the prospective parents
who, from Lieutenant Torres's current
condition, plainly had engaged in it, he
discovered that the temperature of his facial
epidermal layer raised substantially, causing
a temporary change in the color of his skin
tone.
Single-cell reproduction was, indeed, a very
complicated way to obtain progeny, though
apparently a desirable one--under the right
circumstances and with the right partner, of
course.
^*^*^*^
"Are you sure you don't want a site-to-site
transport to Sickbay?" Lieutenant Paris asked
his wife as the Delta Flyer touched down
inside the shuttle bay.
"We could have transported to Sickbay on our
final approach if we had needed to, Tom! As
long as you're with me, I'm sure I can walk
there under my own power."
"At the first sign of trouble . . ."
"I know, I know," Icheb heard Lieutenant Torres
say as they walked back, towards the exit.
They hesitated a moment in the doorway. "Can
you take the diallo-silicate to engineering,
Seven?" Lieutenant Torres asked.
"I will comply," Seven said, with the slight
twist to her mouth that, as Icheb well knew,
meant she was fully cognizant of just how much
that Borg-like phrase pricked the chief
engineer's temper--under normal circumstances,
at least.
"At least we won't be leaving you in the lurch.
Reinforcements have arrived. Can you help out
here? I have to get B'Elanna to the Doc."
"Sure," Icheb heard Naomi Wildman reply as she
stepped inside the shuttle, moving aside to
allow the two lieutenants to exit.
"Why does Lieutenant Torres have to see the
Doctor? Did something happen to her?"
"You could say that!" Ensign Kim laughed.
When the ensign did not immediately elaborate,
Naomi put her hands on her hips in a perfect
imitation of Captain Janeway and said firmly,
as if she were in fact the "Captain's
Assistant" she had once aspired to be, "What
happened to Lieutenant Torres on the trip?"
"Well, it didn't exactly happen on the trip . .
."
At Seven's glare, Ensign Kim relented. "It
looks like you won't be the only baby born on
Voyager for much longer."
It took a second for Naomi to digest the
comment before a grin lit her face. "B'Elanna
is pregnant? Well, it's about time this crew
got busy and had some other babies on board for
everyone to spoil, if you ask me! Not that I'm
a baby myself, any more," she added, with a
wink in Icheb's direction.
With some surprise, Icheb perceived that this
was true. As Naomi had allowed the lieutenants
to pass by her at the Delta Flyer's door, he
had noticed she was actually slightly
taller than Lieutenant Torres.
"I'll be happy to help you with anything,"
Naomi said. "Did you get the diallo-silicate
you were looking for?"
"Not in great quantity, but the quality is of a
superior grade. Your assistance is not
required; Ensign Kim and myself will be
sufficient for the task," Seven replied.
"However, there are four containers of other
useful substances which we collected. They are
in the lower compartment. Icheb may wish your
assistance."
"Please," Icheb responded.
Naomi's smile dazzled him as she said, "Of
course! Lead on!"
Icheb waved Naomi ahead and followed her down
the steps to the lower compartment,
appreciating the way her body gracefully
swayed with each step. That was something he
hadn't noticed before, either. When she turned
to face him for further instructions in the
lower compartment, he saw that her face had
also changed. The childish lines of her jawbone
were sharpening into the face of a woman. The
Naomi in his memory--the one he had been
thinking of during the shuttle's approach to
Voyager--was actually quite different from the
one before him now. Very strange, how suddenly
it had happened. She must be going through
another "growth spurt."
^*^*^*^
Naomi was a great deal of help When they
dropped off the canisters in engineering,
Icheb's news of the chief engineer's pregnancy
was received with a great deal of excitement.
Tal Celes said she would go down to Deck 15 to
give Mortimer Harren and the maintenance staff
the news, while Susan Nicoletti, who was
scheduled to man the engineering station on
the bridge, said she would let everyone there
know. Icheb and Naomi had been in Stellar
Cartography for less than a minute, Icheb
estimated, before the Delaney sisters "took a
break" to "share the data" with the science
labs, although Naomi had already told her
mother via commbadge. By the time they arrived
at the mess hall, passing crew members were
asking Icheb and Naomi if they had heard "the
news about Torres."
"Am I the last person to know about B'Elanna's
delicate condition?" asked Neelix, with an
aggrieved air.
"Maybe," Naomi teased, giving her godfather a
quick, comforting hug.
"You should have come here first! I have a baby
shower to plan."
"I think there's plenty of time to plan your
party, Mr. Morale Officer Neelix. It's going
to be a while before the baby is here!" Naomi
giggled.
Icheb was strangely pleased by that sound, a
small reminder of the child Naomi had been.
Their short trip through Voyager had
solidified his perception that she was no
longer a child in so many ways.
"So, who's going to handle the betting pool
about when the baby will be born?" Lieutenant
Ayala asked.
"Don't let Tom anywhere near it! He's going to
have inside information," Ensign Kim laughed.
As the cluster of crew gathered around Neelix
rapidly grew larger and noisier, Naomi's tug
upon Icheb's elbow was a welcome relief. He
willingly allowed her to drag him to the far
corner of the mess hall, where it was quieter
and he could speak to her in relative privacy.
"Enough about baby showers for one day!" Naomi
whispered. "I wanted to ask you about how your
Starfleet instruction is working out. I've
been thinking about applying to do the same
thing."
"Aren't you a little young for that?" Icheb
asked hesitantly.
"Not when you're Ktarian, like I am," she
replied with an impish grin. "Ktarians
usually become physically adult by age seven.
So, it's not too early for me to consider what
I want to do when I finish growing up."
"But you are only half Ktarian, Naomi."
"That's true. The doctor says it will probably
take a couple more years for me because of my
human genes. He says I should enjoy my
adolescence while I can, but that doesn't mean
I shouldn't start planning my future, does it?"
He only had to think about it for a moment.
"The first thing you have to do is talk with
Commander Tuvok . . ."
^*^*^*^
As they rode the turbolift from Deck 5 to Deck
2 after their visit to Sickbay, B'Elanna and
Tom at first were speechless. Tom finally
broke the silence. "Are you okay about this,
B'Elanna? Really?"
"Sure. It's just quite a surprise."
"Sure is."
"Lots of things are going to change."
"That's for sure."
"Have to get lists of names started. How do you
like Kathryn if it's a girl?"
"I guess it *would* be wise to include the
captain's name on the list."
B'Elanna was silent for a moment. "Tom, do you
think we can keep this just to ourselves for a
bit? Just until we get used to the idea
ourselves?"
"Sure. Anything you want."
The doors of the turbolift opened. Before the
pair could exit, Joe Carey burst in.
"Congratulations, Mom! And Tom--if you want
any tips about fatherhood, I'm your guy. Sorry
I can't stick around. I've got to get back
down to engineering. You want me to do
anything for you, B'Elanna, just ask. Watch
your step there."
The turbolift doors closed on Joe's smiling
face. Fortunately, Tom and B'Elanna were
standing in the corridor outside.
"So much for keeping the news between us for a
while," Tom said gently, noting a wave of
irritation suffuse B'Elanna's face.
They didn't have long to wait to find out how
fast the word had spread. As they walked
through the doors to the mess hall, Janeway
and Chakotay were on their way out.
"Tom, B'Elanna, congratulations!" the captain
said immediately as she squeezed Tom's arm,
and then hugged B'Elanna briefly.
"Congratulations," Chakotay echoed the captain.
He clapped Tom on the shoulder, and hugged
B'Elanna in turn, grinning as he released her.
"If someone had told me the first day I met
you ten years ago that one day I'd be
congratulating you on impending motherhood, I
would never have believed it."
"Me either," B'Elanna said dryly.
"I know you'll make a great mother, B'Elanna."
Chakotay kissed her on the cheek, then smiled
at Tom. "I'm happy for you both."
"Thanks," Tom said.
As Janeway and Chakotay slipped out of the mess
hall Neelix rushed up, followed by Tuvok and a
fairly large contingent of the crew.
"Congratulations, Tom and B'Elanna! This is
wonderful news! Now that Naomi has gotten so
grown up, I've got lots of time to spend with
a new godchild. I'm very experienced with
diapers and bottles. Just ask Naomi."
"Neelix! Please!" Naomi groaned, her face
flushing rosily, as Icheb grinned shyly by her
side.
"Well, it's true. You're almost grown up now,
but once. . ."
"Got it, Neelix," Tom agreed, taking pity on
Naomi
"How did everyone find out so quickly?"
B'Elanna asked.
"Were we not supposed to mention your baby to
anyone, Lieutenant Torres?" Icheb asked.
At the sight of Icheb's distress, B'Elanna
controlled her temper and shrugged off-
handedly, "No, it's fine. I'm just amazed
everyone found out about it so fast."
"It's a small ship," Naomi said, matter-of-
factly.
As everyone else laughed, Tuvok stepped
forward. "Let me extend my best wishes as
well, Lieutenants."
"Thanks, Tuvok," Tom replied.
"Mister Vulcan here has four children," Neelix
interjected, patting Tuvok's shoulder briefly.
"I'm sure he can offer you lots of excellent
advice on fatherhood, Tom."
Tuvok raised any eyebrow at Neelix, while Tom
said, "I'll listen to any advice you can give
me, Tuvok."
"That would be a first," Tuvok responded, and
Tom grinned. "However, I am willing to offer
any counsel that you would consider useful."
"Any words of wisdom now?" Tom asked.
Tuvok studied both prospective parents
contemplatively. "It is paradoxical but true
that while children can be disturbingly
illogical, parenthood is a profoundly
fulfilling experience."
Tom and B'Elanna looked thoughtful and a little
bewildered at Tuvok's words, but before either
could reply, the doctor's voice came over the
comm. ::::"Lieutenant Torres. Lieutenant
Paris. Please report to Sickbay
immediately."::::
Tom and B'Elanna exchanged apprehensive looks
at the unexpected summons. "On our way,
Doctor," Tom said quickly. Silence reigned
and the party atmosphere deflated as Tom and
B'Elanna fled the mess hall.
Act 2
The holographic image of a tiny humanoid
spinal column spun slowly in the air in front
of Tom and B'Elanna.
"It's curved," Tom said. That much was
certainly clear to him.
The doctor nodded. "Your baby's spine has a
pronounced curvature to the left. But there
is a procedure that can easily correct the
deviation."
"You mean surgery?" Tom asked warily. He
looked at B'Elanna, who was staring intently
at the image of the baby's rotating spine.
This was their baby the doctor was talking
about.
"Surgery used to be the only option," the
doctor said. "But I will be doing a less
invasive genetic modification procedure in
utero to correct the problem."
"I had surgery for the same thing when I was a
baby," B'Elanna said. "So did my mother."
Tom looked at her, surprised. She'd never told
him that, though it wasn't a likely subject to
come up, until now.
"This particular abnormality does tend to run
in the female line of Klingon families, so
it's not completely unexpected. Once the
procedure is completed--"
"Wait a minute!" Tom interjected. "Doc, are
you saying that our baby is a girl?" The
doctor looked stricken. They'd told him when
he'd run the first scan that they didn't want
to know the sex of the baby. At least,
B'Elanna had been adamant, and her eyes
narrowed on him now. "No, I didn't--I
said . . .you're making an assumption," he
finished lamely.
Tom smiled broadly. "It's a girl."
The doctor started to protest again, but
B'Elanna held up her hand. "Never mind." She
gave the doctor and her grinning husband both
exasperated looks. "It's too late now."
"Look at it this way," Tom said happily. "Now
that we know it's a girl, we'll be able to
plan exactly what we need for her."
B'Elanna looked slightly mollified, and the
doctor took the opportunity to add his own
positive observation. "The genetic
modification is a very minor procedure.
Otherwise your baby girl is perfectly healthy,
and that is the important thing."
Neither Tom nor B'Elanna could argue with that.
"When do you want to perform the procedure?"
B'Elanna asked the doctor.
"There is no reason to delay, so I suggest we
schedule it at your earliest convenience."
"The sooner the better," B'Elanna said. It
might be a minor procedure, but it was still a
procedure. The sooner it was done, the sooner
she wouldn't have to worry about her baby.
"How about tomorrow morning?"
The doctor looked at his console. "I'll
schedule the surgery tomorrow at eight hundred
hours."
"I'd like to be here, Doctor," Tom said. "I'll
clear it with the captain."
"Tom, that isn't necessary--"
"I'm sure captain won't object," the doctor
said, cutting B'Elanna off. "I'll let her
know that you will both be relieved from duty
until nine hundred hours."
"The bridge can survive without me for that
long," Tom assured his wife teasingly, though
his gaze on her was serious.
B'Elanna nodded, and looked at the doctor.
"We'll both be here tomorrow at eight hundred
hours."
The doctor smiled amiably at them. "Excellent.
I'll also have those nutritional supplements
ready, Lieutenant Torres. As I told you
earlier, a hybrid human-Klingon pregnancy does
create unique nutritional needs, and the
supplements will compensate for any deficiency
in your diet. However, it is still important
that you eat regular, well-balanced meals--"
"I will," B'Elanna said. He'd already told her
that too.
"I'll also prescribe something to regulate the
biochemical fluctuations I mentioned, so we'll
be prepared if you do begin to experience
extreme emotional or behavioral volatility--"
"I won't."
The doctor's eyebrows rose at B'Elanna's curt
tone. "Beyond your average range of emotional
and behavioral volatility, of course," he
added dryly.
B'Elanna glared at the doctor.
"I'm feeling emotionally volatile myself right
now," Tom said. He slipped his hand in
B'Elanna's, hoping she wouldn't pull hers
away, as she sometimes did when she thought he
was trying to placate her. It was true that
his emotions weren't quite steady at the
moment, and he wasn't the one carrying the
baby. "It's been an eventful day. As
wonderful as this news is for us, Doctor, I
think we're both still a little . .
.overwhelmed
by it all."
The doctor nodded, his expression more
sympathetic. "That is perfectly
understandable. This is certainly a major life
change, and life changes are often stressful.
But I assure you that medically everything is
sound, and I'll make sure that remains the
case. You can both concentrate your attention
on preparing for your baby's arrival."
"Thanks, Doc," Tom said sincerely. B'Elanna's
hand was still in his, and he saw her
expression soften too. "We really appreciate
that."
"Having a baby can also be a very fulfilling
experience for both parents." The doctor
smiled broadly. "To assist you in that
direction, I am devising a schedule to address
a variety of important topics--childbirth
classes, of course, and parenting workshops
that I'm sure you'll find enlightening. I am
also researching a number of enrichment
programs for your baby, including--"
"Can't those wait until after she is born?" Tom
asked, mostly to stop the doctor's
enthusiastic monologue.
"Your daughter can experience emotional and
intellectual stimulation in utero," the doctor
told him. "For instance, reading out loud to
her will heighten her verbal and
communications skills. Then there is music.
Opera is an excellent source of audio-
stimulation, and can improve her mathematical
abilities."
"You don't plan on actually singing it, do
you?" Tom asked in jest.
"I hadn't thought of that, Lieutenant," the
doctor replied innocently. "But that's an
excellent idea. I do have several selections
which compliment my voice quite admirably,
including a piece by Puccini that--"
"Doctor, the only way you're singing Puccini to
my baby is if you remove her from my body so I
don't have to listen."
The doctor shrugged at B'Elanna's caustic
statement. "I can also do Klingon opera, if
you'd prefer."
"That's even worse," B'Elanna said. "Besides,
our baby is three-quarters human."
Tom didn't quite get the correlation. "That
doesn't mean she'll dislike Klingon opera."
"Do *you* like Klingon opera, Tom?" B'Elanna
asked pointedly.
"Well . . .opera is probably a bad example,"
Tom
admitted. It was one of the few things
Klingon that he didn't have a taste for at
all. Before he could suggest another, more
enjoyable Klingon pastime B'Elanna spoke
again, sounding a little weary.
"Doctor, can we talk about this enrichment
stuff tomorrow? It's been a long day, and I'm
a little tired."
"Of course," the doctor assented immediately.
"It's also very important that you get plenty
of sleep. I'll see you here at eight hundred
hours."
The doctor moved to his console and pressed a
key. Tom watched the rotating spinal column
disappear, and that gave him a thought.
"Doctor, can we see a complete image of the
baby?"
B'Elanna had been about to turn around, glad
that the public scrutiny and endless if well-
meaning congratulatory plaudits of the past
few hours were over, and eager to finally
escape to the privacy of her and Tom's
quarters. But Tom's question stilled her.
"I suppose I could extrapolate her appearance
from her genetic profile," the doctor said.
Tom looked at B'Elanna, and she shook her head
emphatically. "I'd rather wait and be
surprised."
"You're not the least bit curious?" Tom asked.
"Of course, I'm curious," B'Elanna said. "But
I'd still rather wait."
Tom frowned. "Okay."
B'Elanna sighed a little at his obvious
disappointment. "That's my choice, Tom. If
you really want to see her, I'll just leave
first and meet you in the corridor."
Tom considered that for a moment. He really
did want to see their baby. "Are you sure?"
B'Elanna nodded. "Yes." She had no reason to
deny him that. She smiled faintly, and Tom
squeezed her hand briefly as the doctor turned
to his console.
"Remember, this will only be an approximation,"
the doctor said as his fingers moved quickly
over the keypad. "I'll display her at six
months of age. Ready?"
Tom glanced at B'Elanna, who had walked away
and was already approaching the door.
"Ready."
A moment later the image of a baby appeared
where the spinal column had been. The baby's
back was to Tom, but her tiny body rotated
slowly until he could see her face. He stared
at the holo-image in a mixture of amazement and
delight. This was--this would be his
daughter. And B'Elanna's, if that wasn't
patently obvious. It took him several seconds
to find his voice, but when he did, his words
spilled out straight from his heart.
"She's beautiful."
^*^*^*^*^
B'Elanna shoved her tools into her bag, glad
to be done with the plasma injector repair.
It had taken her a little longer than usual,
but she'd been distracted all morning. She
still hadn't quite got used to the fact that
she was pregnant, even though Tom was already
planning the "nursery," despite the limited
space in their quarters. He'd talked last
night until she'd told him to shut up and let
her rest. His response had been to
immediately offer her a glass of water, and
then a backrub. Once she'd convinced him that
she just needed to get some sleep, he'd
contented himself with kissing her goodnight,
telling her one more time that he was *really*
happy about her pregnancy (as if she didn't
know that), and then assuring her that their
baby would be fine (as if she didn't know that
too). Still, she'd appreciated his reassurance
and the unconstrained way he'd embraced the
concept of impending parenthood. He'd fallen
asleep next to her, with one arm draped loosely
over her stomach, while she'd remained wide
awake thinking about it all, her feelings
warring between excitement and anxiety over
the abrupt change to their lives, wondering if
she was up to this new role--and hoping that
her doubts were natural. Or maybe she could
chalk up her churning feelings to the emotional
volatility the doctor said she might
experience.
She was happy, if still a little unnerved by
the fact that there was a life growing inside
her. She touched her flat belly, and then
shook her head, for perhaps the fiftieth time
in the past twenty hours. Incredible. She
was going to have a baby. A tremulous smile
lifted her lips. A daughter. Her daughter,
and Tom's--
"Lieutenant Paris to Lieutenant Torres."
B'Elanna jumped, startled out of her musings.
"Yes?"
"I'm just calling to see how you're feeling."
B'Elanna let out an audible and purposely
exaggerated sigh. "Is this going to become a
habit now?"
"No . . .well, not more than once a day anyway.
Father-to-be's prerogative."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes at Tom's smug
assertion. Early in their relationship she'd
actively discouraged any over-attentiveness on
Tom's part, one of several distancing tactics
they'd both learned to overcome. She'd become
more willing to accept his protective
gestures, to a point anyway. And willing to
admit to herself that sometimes it was nice
having someone worry about her.
"I feel fine," she said. She put a slight edge
in her voice that warned him not to push it.
She did feel fine, and the procedure had been
as painless as the doctor had promised. "You
certainly didn't have to hold my hand in
Sickbay." She paused for a moment, then added
softly, "But thanks anyway."
"You're welcome."
"I am glad it's over though." She was also
glad he'd been there.
"Me, too," Tom agreed. "Now we know that our
daughter will be absolutely perfect. By the
way, have you noticed that it's almost
lunchtime? I'm headed for the mess hall in a
few minutes."
B'Elanna hadn't thought that Tom might want to
meet for lunch. "I have a . . .project I need
to
finish, so I'll probably just replicate a
sandwich."
"Okay." Tom sounded vaguely disappointed,
though they didn't lunch together all that
often given how erratic their schedules could
be on Voyager, hers in particular.
"I should be able to finish my shift on time
for a change," she told him. "Then I plan on
heading straight for our quarters."
"Why don't we do dinner in our quarters
tonight," Tom suggested. "Just the two of us.
After last night I think we deserve a private
celebration."
B'Elanna couldn't agree more. The few
crewmembers who hadn't congratulated her last
night had found her this morning. Most of the
time she was glad to be part of what had become
a very large family on Voyager, but she still
needed her privacy, especially when it was so
hard to come by. "I like that plan."
"Great!" Tom's reply was enthusiastic. "Now,
for the menu, how does a medium rare tri-tip,
fava beans, ceasar salad, and seven-grain
rolls sound?"
"Well-balanced," B'Elanna said dryly. "But
delicious."
"I'll even do the cooking."
B'Elanna snorted. "Don't strain your wrist on
that replicator, okay?"
"I'll be very careful."
B'Elanna smiled at his droll tone. "I have to
get back to work. I'll see you tonight,
Flyboy."
"Okay, Chief," Tom returned. "Or should I call
you 'mommy' now?"
B'Elanna's eyebrows rose. "Hey, to you I'm
still the chief." In more ways than one, but
Tom's more personal application of that title
was something best left to more private
surroundings. "Don't you forget it."
"Yes, ma'am," Tom replied smartly. "See you
tonight." Before she could close the comm, he
added, "Oh, B'Elanna . . ."
"Yes?"
"Chief engineer *and* mommy is a perfectly
workable combination. I know you'll be great
at both."
The comm line clicked, and B'Elanna smiled
faintly at Tom's sanguine assurance. She felt
vaguely guilty that she hadn't told him where
she was going. In Sickbay she'd been so
insistent that she could wait to see the baby,
and she really had been prepared to wait. She
hadn't thought her curiosity could get the
better of her, but that was before she'd heard
Tom's words last night. Not just the words,
but the way he'd said them.
She'd been about to step through the door when
Tom had given the okay for the doctor to
display the holographic image of the baby.
The immediate silence that followed had become
charged with energy, and emotion. It seemed
ridiculous, since she was hardly empathic, but
she'd felt it. Then Tom had spoken those
words.
"She's beautiful."
His voice had been filled with wonder, and with
a depth of affection that had been a palpable
force. She'd slipped out the door quickly,
before she could give in to her urge to turn
around and see for herself what had provoked
Tom's delighted reaction.
When Tom had joined her in the corridor a few
minutes later, he'd respected her wishes and
hadn't said anything about seeing the baby.
But she couldn't miss the smile on his face, or
the lilt in his voice, or the contented glow
that had radiated from him. Though it had
been her choice, she'd felt a tiny bit left
out. She'd spent much of this morning
imagining what their baby looked like.
Finally she'd decided that she couldn't wait--
"Lieutenant Torres."
B'Elanna was startled for the second time in
several minutes. She suppressed a glare as
she took the PADD Vorik offered her. She
skimmed his work and then signed off on it.
Vorik wasn't the most innovative engineer,
even for a Vulcan, but he was thorough and
exact. She rarely needed to correct his work,
which she appreciated.
"I'm leaving a little early for lunch," she
told him as she returned his PADD. "You're in
charge until thirteen hundred hours."
Vorik looked at her curiously. "Are you
feeling well?"
B'Elanna frowned. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"It is unusual for you to take an extended
lunch break. I know that human females
frequently experience nausea in the early
stages of pregnancy, due to fluctuating
hormonal levels."
"And Klingon females sometimes fly into a rage
at a moment's notice and rip apart entire
rooms due to their fluctuating hormonal
levels," B'Elanna noted sharply. "Have you
seen me do that?"
Vorik's eyebrow rose. "No, Lieutenant."
"I'm fine, Ensign," B'Elanna told him, knowing
she'd overreacted. But she didn't like the
idea of anyone assuming her ability was
compromised. "Or I would be if everyone would
quit asking if I'm fine. Pregnancy is not an
illness."
"It is not," Vorik agreed impassively. "It is
a naturally altered state of being that
requires temporary lifestyle adjustments."
"I wouldn't count on that," B'Elanna snapped,
then turned on her heel and strode out of
Engineering, leaving Vorik behind. It wasn't
like she had any intention of exposing herself
to high doses of radiation or something
equally foolhardy, but she also wasn't going
to back off any of her duties as chief engineer
just because she was pregnant. If people were
already thinking differently, she'd nip that
perception in the bud right now. Like Tom had
said, why couldn't she be both chief engineer
and mother, without compromising either role?
Act 3
Three minutes later, B'Elanna stepped inside
Holodeck one, and her focus immediately
returned to her purpose at hand. She looked
at the hologrid surrounding her. She'd tell
Tom tonight, she decided. He'd no doubt be
happy that she shared his knowledge, though
he'd tease her for succumbing to curiosity.
She'd take that as her due.
"Computer, access medical file for B'Elanna
Torres, authorization Torres Beta Four."
The computer responded immediately. "File
accessed."
"Access fetal genetics file and display
projection of the baby."
"File accessed. Displaying projection."
The baby appeared a meter away from B'Elanna.
She was curled in an almost fetal position,
and her small body rotated slowly. Though the
baby's back was to her, B'Elanna studied the
perfectly-formed body, the tiny arms and legs,
and the fine, silky hair on her head. A slow,
wondrous smile lit B'Elanna's face. She had
envisioned the baby with Tom's blonde hair, but
she didn't mind their daughter's dark hair.
She would have a bit of her mother in her,
too--
B'Elanna's smile faded as the baby's face came
into view. She stared in confusion for
several moments at the clearly defined ridges
on the baby's forehead, and her heart started
to pound in her chest.
How was that possible? The baby was only one-
quarter Klingon. B'Elanna had assumed their
daughter would look much more like Tom than
herself--that she would look human. Instead
she looked just like B'Elanna.
She looked Klingon.
"Computer, still projection."
B'Elanna thought frantically. It didn't make
sense. Something must be wrong. Maybe the
doctor had made a mistake with the genetic
profile. Though the doctor never made
mistakes, she grasped at that explanation.
"Computer, verify genetic profile. What are
the percentages of human and Klingon genetic
makeup?"
"Genetic profile verified. The projected baby
is the progeny of Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres
and Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, as
indexed. Genetic makeup is seventy-five
percent human and twenty-five percent
Klingon."
"Then why does she have forehead ridges?!"
"Forehead ridges are a characteristic of her
Klingon genetics."
"She's three-quarters human!"
Though B'Elanna's last angry outburst wasn't a
question, the computer was programmed to
follow a line of thought and respond, if a
response was deemed appropriate. "Klingon
genetic traits typically remain dominant
through three to four generations."
Dominant. B'Elanna stared at her daughter,
seeing nothing beyond those forehead ridges,
the clear and indelible brand of her Klingon
heritage. Tom's words rang in her head again,
and the tone of his voice--awestruck,
delighted, so completely sincere.
"She's beautiful."
Beautiful. A memory flashed into B'Elanna's
mind unbidden--
//She stood impatiently in front of the door,
as was her habit when it was time for her
father to get home. Her mother had repeatedly
chastised her for it, telling her that her
impatience wouldn't get her father home any
faster, but B'Elanna didn't care. Her daddy
would be walking through that door any minute,
and she wanted to be here--
The door slid open, and she flew toward him.
"Daddy!"
She was in his arms almost before he'd crossed
the threshold. As always, he tossed her in
the air as she shrieked in delight, then
caught her again in his arms and smiled widely
at her. "How's my beautiful little girl?"
She giggled, and wrapped her arms around his
neck. "Fine, daddy. I learned two more
alphabets today, Bolian and Vulcan."
Her father smiled at her mother, who had just
walked into view, and then grinned at
B'Elanna. "We have not only the most
beautiful little girl in kindergarten, Miral,
but the smartest."
B'Elanna beamed, and hugged him tightly. "I
love you, Daddy."
She felt her daddy press a soft kiss against
her hair. "I love you too, Bella."//
B'Elanna came abruptly back to the present.
She felt unaccountably cold. She hugged
herself, and stared at her baby's image. Her
daughter wasn't *exactly* like her. Her
daughter had more human genes, and maybe that
would make a difference. Her forehead ridges
might become fainter as she got older, and she
would look more human than Klingon. It was a
reasonable assumption . . .
"Computer, project baby at six years of age and
display--belay that." B'Elanna had thought
automatically in Kessik years, something she
hadn't done in quite a while. "Project baby
at twelve years of age and display image."
The computer automatically referenced the
Federation standard based on Earth's rotation-
-and Qo'noS by coincidence had a similar
period of rotation. The image changed, and a
prepubescent girl stood in front of B'Elanna.
Her hair was dark and straight, her nose was
slightly turned up, and her forehead ridges
were even more prominent--just as B'Elanna's
had become more prominent with approaching
adolescence.
B'Elanna stared in dismay at the image. The
likeness was greater than she could have
imagined. Looking at the projection of her
daughter was like looking in the mirror and
seeing herself at that age--
B'Elanna closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.
It had been so long. She didn't want to
remember. She didn't want it to come back
now. No. NO . . ..
//B'Elanna looked at the large duffel bag next
to the door. Her father stood on one side of
it, his expression grim. Her mother faced
him, eyes flashing, but uncharacteristically
silent. There'd been little of the usual
yelling today, which had made it even worse.
The tense, ominous silence had given B'Elanna
an increasingly sick feeling. And now she knew
why.
Without saying anything, her face a mask of
accusation and disgust, her mother pivoted and
stalked out of the room. The sick feeling
rose further in B'Elanna's stomach. Her mother
wasn't going to stop her father from leaving.
"Mommy!"
Her mother ignored her, not even bothering to
reprimand her for using that childish title
instead of "mother." She simply disappeared
into the hallway. B'Elanna turned back to her
father, who was reaching for his duffel.
"Daddy, you don't have to do this!"
Her father shook his head, his expression
defeated. "It's decided, B'Elanna."
"Not by me!" B'Elanna ran to him and grabbed
the edge of the duffel bag as he lifted it.
"I don't want you to leave!"
Her father sighed. "You don't understand--"
"Please!" B'Elanna was crying now, but she
didn't care. This was her fault. She'd told
him to leave, and now he was doing it.
"Please don't leave! I didn't mean it--"
"B'Elanna, stop it!" Her father pulled the
duffel from her grip, and put a restraining
hand on her shoulder. "This isn't about
you--"
"Yes, it is! You're leaving because of what I
said!"
"It's nothing you said, B'Elanna. Your mother
and I . . ." he sighed, and his gaze on her
became gentle for a moment, the way she
remembered it always used to be. Maybe he
still loved her, and he'd stay, for her--
"I can't stay, B'Elanna." He shook his head,
his eyes on her sorrowful now. "Sometimes
things-- sometimes people just don't work out
together."
Did he mean her--she didn't work out for him
anymore?
"I'm sorry." He withdrew his hand from her
shoulder and unexpectedly hugged her. "I'm
sorry," he repeated, his voice barely a
whisper.
B'Elanna's heart filled with hope. "Daddy,
I'll be good. I promise--"
"I know you will," he said, misunderstanding
her. He pulled away and pressed the door
release. Then he looked back at her, his lips
pressed tightly together and his eyes bright.
She wanted to beg him again not to go, but her
voice choked in her throat. She could only
plead silently, *Don't go, Daddy. Please,
please . . .*
"I'll write," he said, his voice wavering a
little. Then he turned and stepped quickly
out the door.
B'Elanna watched the door close behind him, and
she stood there for a long time, tears still
running down her cheeks. The same thoughts
ran through her mind over and over again as if
her will and her silent, desperate promises
would make the door open again. *I love you,
daddy. I'll be good. I won't argue and lose
my temper. I'll be less Klingon. I'll be
anything you want me to be. Just come back.
Come back.*
Through it all, the door stayed closed. He
didn't come back that day, or ever again.//
B'Elanna blinked, and then forcibly pushed
those memories away. Her vision was misted by
the moisture in her eyes, and she shook her
head once, vehemently. She realized that she
was shaking. Stop it, she told herself, STOP
IT.
B'Elanna looked at the young girl in front of
her. Tom had seen their baby, and he thought
she was beautiful. He loved their daughter
already, that much B'Elanna could tell from his
joy last night. Though he didn't say it often,
B'Elanna knew he loved her too. She didn't
doubt his sincerity on either count, but she
knew from experience how quickly it could
change, and how one day it could all be gone.
B'Elanna knew that correlation wasn't
completely reasonable or fair, but her own
past experience was vivid in her mind. She
didn't want her daughter to go through the kind
of pain she had. Her own mixed genes had made
her life so much more difficult at every step,
and had dictated how people had reacted to her-
-even her own father. It had made her
different from everyone else, a curiosity,
abnormal . . .
B'Elanna grasped at that last thought. Of
course. Her own hybrid physiology had always
been a medical issue. How often had it caused
difficulties, or delays in diagnosis or
treatment? If there was a way to avoid that
kind of potential complication, it could only
benefit the health and well-being of her
child.
B'Elanna glanced at the projected holoimage of
her daughter, and then looked away. She only
wanted to protect her child. There was
nothing wrong with that. She needed to talk to
the doctor immediately.
"Computer, end display and close file."
The image winked out behind her and B'Elanna
strode purposefully out of the holodeck,
certain in her conviction.
Act 4
"You're overreacting!"
B'Elanna glared at the doctor. "No, I'm not!
Everything I said is true. Medical treatment
for someone with mixed genes is more
complicated. And she'll be susceptible to
twice as many diseases than she would be if
her genes were all from one race."
"Technically, that may be true," he admitted.
"But you are attaching much more significance
to any potential complications than they
merit."
"Even if it's a small possibility, if the risk
can be eradicated, then I want it to be!"
"What you're suggesting--genetic resequencing--
would completely change her identity. That's
a drastic and unnecessary step to take, simply
to avoid 'possible' health complications that
will likely never materialize. There's no
reason to believe your baby will be anything
less than perfectly healthy, as she is right
now--"
"What if she doesn't stay that way? What if
she gets ill?"
"Then I have her genetic data on hand, and
quite a few files on Klingon-human treatment
regimens," the doctor told her. "You weren't
the first Klingon-human hybrid, you know.
Though I also have *your* extensive file, which
will be most helpful, considering your shared
genes."
"Those files still can't answer every possible
problem she could encounter. Hybrids are
unique--"
"Lieutenant, I have access to over a thousand
years of human physiological and medical data,
yet unknown conditions still occur in humans
for which there is no immediate answer. It is
impossible to account for every eventuality, no
matter what one's genetic makeup."
"But it *is* more difficult to deal with the
medical needs of a hybrid," B'Elanna insisted
stubbornly.
The doctor waved his hand. "It's a simple
matter of recalibrating my instruments--"
"You didn't say it was simple the first time
you had to recalibrate them for me." B'Elanna
made her point almost triumphantly. "In fact,
you were annoyed that I would require more
specialized care than anyone on Voyager because
of my mixed genes."
The doctor stammered a little. "Well, perhaps I
did grouse a bit at the time," he admitted.
"My bedside manner used to be
somewhat . . .primitive, before my behavioral
subroutines evolved." Before she could
dispute his use of the past tense, he added
reassuringly, "Meeting your medical needs is
hardly more difficult than meeting anyone
else's on Voyager. Easier, in fact, than
Seven's or Icheb's, with their residual Borg
components."
"'Hardly more difficult' is still more
difficult," B'Elanna said.
The doctor sighed, wondering what it would take
to convince her when she insisted on taking
everything he said so literally. He decided
to try a different tack. "I think you're
looking at this the wrong way, Lieutenant.
There are advantages and disadvantages to
every situation. You've never experienced any
serious health problems because of your mixed
genes. In fact they are essential to your
well-being, as we found out during that
Vidiian incident. They've given you additional
strength and resources to better endure certain
conditions. You've recovered faster from both
injuries and parasitic invasions than the
average single-species person. And you were
naturally more resistant to the Borg nanoprobes
than Commander Tuvok or Captain Janeway."
Though she glared at him for mentioning that
period he knew she'd rather forget, it was
true. Her genetics had done half the battle
of undoing her physical assimilation. "Some of
the traits endowed by dual genetic makeup--
redundant organs, built-in genetic resistance
to twice as many parasitic and disease vectors
--are very beneficial. And if you want another
example of that, just look at Naomi. She's
half-human, half-Ktarian. She's barely had a
cold all her life."
B'Elanna frowned. "We're not talking about
Naomi, we're talking about my daughter, and I
don't think you're listening to me."
The doctor was of the opinion that B'Elanna was
barely listening to *him.* He didn't know how
to further reassure her. "Lieut--" he
softened his voice--"B'Elanna I am a doctor--
your doctor--and I'm promising you that your
baby will be fine. It's natural to worry a
little when you're pregnant, but your baby's
health is more likely to be adversely affected
by your heightened anxiety right now than by
her mixed genetics."
B'Elanna took expected offense at that.
"Because I want what's best for my baby?!"
"I want the best for her too, Lieutenant," the
doctor said sharply. "I'd hope you could
believe that, and trust my medical judgment."
B'Elanna had the grace to look chagrined, and
the doctor relented slightly. "Since you are
so concerned, I will study the data you
suggested, on one condition."
B'Elanna's expression shifted between hopeful
and suspicious. "What condition?"
"I want you to take a supplement that will
regulate the biochemical fluctuations in your
body--"
"This isn't about that--"
"Maybe not, but your anxiety level right now is
very high. As I said before, emotional
volatility can be a common side-effect of your
body's adjustment to the hormonal changes, and
the effect is intensified by your Klingon and
human metabolisms striving to find the right
biochemical balance--"
"If I was fully human, I wouldn't experience
this emotional volatility," B'Elanna said
pointedly.
"I wouldn't count on that," the doctor muttered
under his breath. He said more volubly,
"Biochemical fluctuations in fully human and
fully Klingon pregnancies can also cause
emotional volatility. I've heard it happens
even in Vulcan pregnancies," he added, "though
that is a closely-guarded secret."
B'Elanna didn't react to his attempt at humor,
but she didn't argue the point any further.
"You can add the supplement to my regimen
tomorrow."
Though her agreement was grudging, the doctor
happily accepted it. "Excellent. I'll look
over the data, and I will think about what you
said. But please think about what I said too."
B'Elanna nodded curtly, and strode toward the
door.
"Lieutenant."
B'Elanna stopped and turned around.
"I forgot to ask. Have you discussed these
concerns with your husband?"
Her face immediately changed, and since the
lieutenant's expression often answered a
question before she ever uttered a word, her
reply was only a reiteration. "No. I wanted
to get your opinion first."
"I suggest you discuss this with him at your
first opportunity. Any decision regarding
your child's health or medical care, now or in
the future, must be decided by both of you.
Though I'm sure you're aware of that."
"Of course," B'Elanna said evenly. "I'll talk
to him. I'm sure he'll want what is best for
our daughter, just as I do."
On that cryptic comment she strode out the
door. The doctor watched her leave, then
walked around his desk and sat down. He
looked at the screen of his computer console,
but didn't really see the data he'd been
working on when Lieutenant Torres had stormed
into Sickbay. He hoped she really would
consider everything he'd said, but he had a
strange feeling that they'd talked around her
real concerns. The "feeling" was intuitive,
based on his personal knowledge and nearly
seven year history with B'Elanna Torres, but
it was a method of reasoning his self-adapting
programming now allowed.
A stored memory subroutine flashed across the
doctor's holographic matrix, an image of
B'Elanna Torres, fully human after the
Vidiians had split her in two genetically.
She'd been sitting on a biobed in Sickbay,
clearly devastated at the thought of her
Klingon genes being reinserted again. It was
one of the first times his holographic
subroutines had recorded and internalized an
empathic response to emotion, in that case, to
extreme distress.
The doctor recalled Lieutenant Paris's face the
previous evening, when he had viewed the image
of his baby daughter. The lieutenant's
expression had been exultant. He'd clearly had
no qualms about his baby's obvious Klingon
traits. In fact he'd appeared delighted. But
Tom Paris had never had the slightest negative
feeling about his wife's Klingon heritage, as
far as the doctor knew. From that the doctor
could certainly predict the pilot's reaction
to the idea of changing his baby's genetic
makeup.
He'd be vehemently against it.
The doctor hoped Tom would be able to reassure
B'Elanna, and that they'd work it out
together. He had made a promise to study the
data, however, and he would do so, though he
was certain there would be nothing present
that could change his mind. Genetically, baby
girl Torres-Paris was already perfectly sound
in every way.
^*^*^*^
Captain Janeway found B'Elanna in the chief
engineer's office, studying a dataPADD
intently. Janeway hadn't used any particular
stealth in entering the office, but B'Elanna's
attention was so focused on what she was doing
that she apparently hadn't heard the door
slide open and closed.
"B'Elanna."
B'Elanna jumped, and dropped the PADD on her
desk.
"I'm sorry," Janeway said. "I didn't mean to
startle you. Whatever's on that PADD must be
fascinating."
To Janeway's surprise, B'Elanna looked a little
flustered. "Yes, uh . . .I was just working on
my propulsion idea."
Janeway sat down in the chair on the opposite
side of the desk. A week ago B'Elanna had
given her a brief and very vague synopsis of
her new propulsion theory. "No need to look
as if you're doing something you shouldn't be.
If your idea works out, we just might get
Voyager home sooner rather than later.
Consider your research part of your on-duty
assignments."
B'Elanna nodded, and pushed the PADD in
question aside. "Yes, ma'am."
"I do need the warp core report though."
"Oh . . ." B'Elanna sorted through the PADDs
that
were routinely piled on her desk and plucked
one out without hesitation. "Here it is. The
diagnostic revealed no irregularities."
"That's no surprise," Janeway said as she
briefly skimmed the data on the PADD B'Elanna
had handed her. After a few moments she
dropped the PADD back on the desk, and looked
at her chief engineer. "I know you've probably
heard this several times today, but
considering your visit to Sickbay this
morning, I'm compelled to ask--how are you
feeling?"
B'Elanna sighed audibly. "I'm fine. Really."
"Good," Janeway said. "And don't worry, this
isn't where I ask if you need to take more
time off, or if you want to transfer some of
your duties to Lieutenant Carey. I know you
well enough to know that you have no intention
of spending your pregnancy sitting on a couch
eating bonbons." In fact, she knew her chief
engineer wouldn't accept any limitations that
weren't medically necessary.
B'Elanna smiled faintly. "The couch is out,
though I wouldn't refuse the bonbons."
Janeway grinned back. "Good choice. By the
way, I know I offered my congratulations last
evening, but I do want you to know how truly
happy I am for you, B'Elanna. And for Tom."
B'Elanna looked a little disconcerted for a
moment, though she replied sincerely, "Thank
you, Captain. I know Tom and I didn't exactly
clear this with you, but it was a bit of a
surprise to us too."
"I'm not a student of biology, but I must admit
I assumed Tom and you would need medical
assistance to conceive."
"We thought so too," B'Elanna said ruefully.
"We did discontinue our contraception boosters
when we got married, so we were open to the
idea of having a family. But the odds against
natural conception in our case were so high
that we assumed it would happen much later, if
at all."
Janeway smiled. "Instead it happened sooner."
B'Elanna nodded. "I hope you don't mind."
"Why would I mind?" Janeway asked, though she
could guess what B'Elanna was going to say.
"Some people might think these aren't the best
conditions in which to raise a child. And
this is a Starfleet ship--"
"It is a Starfleet ship, but we're also in a
unique situation out here." Janeway paused.
"Though I must admit, when we were first
stranded in the Delta quadrant I was glad no
one wanted to immediately start raising
families. It was difficult enough just to
survive from day to day, and to mold ourselves
into one integrated crew. We've done that
very successfully. In fact we've become more
than a crew. We're a community now, and I
certainly don't expect any of you to postpone
your personal lives forever, or deny
yourselves the opportunity to have children."
B'Elanna cocked an eyebrow. "Will you still
say that if there are a dozen kids on Voyager
in the next few years?"
Janeway chuckled at B'Elanna's question.
Though the romantic relationships among the
crew had tended to be casual in the early
years, as time had passed and everyone on
Voyager had settled in for the long haul the
number of serious liaisons had inevitably
grown. There were a dozen permanent couples
among the crew now, and several more she
suspected were headed that way. She knew it
was hardly out of the realm of possibility
that some of them would decide to follow Tom
and B'Elanna's example. "We've managed to
adapt to every other change that's been thrust
upon us," Janeway pointed out. "As to whether
it's wise to raise a child under these
circumstances, Naomi is happy and well-
adjusted, and the children we rescued from the
Borg did well while they were here. So we'll
adjust, whether it's just one baby, or a dozen
more to follow."
B'Elanna nodded, looking marginally relieved.
Janeway studied B'Elanna for several moments.
She couldn't help noticing B'Elanna's
preoccupation, though maybe it wasn't
surprising that her chief engineer was feeling
a little overwhelmed at the moment. "It must
be a little intimidating to know that you're
now nurturing a new life so completely
dependent on you."
Some emotion crossed B'Elanna's face--a flash
of guilt maybe--but it was gone so quickly
Janeway wondered if she'd imagined it. "I
didn't mean to make you feel more anxious,
B'Elanna. It's a big responsibility, but I
don't doubt you can handle it."
"I hope so."
"I know so," Janeway told her reassuringly.
"I have to admit I'm a little bit envious too.
I've always wondered how it would feel to know
there's a baby growing inside your body."
"It feels . . .strange," B'Elanna said softly.
"It doesn't seem quite real yet."
"Well, I sure it will seem real the first time
she kicks," Janeway said.
"I guess it will--" B'Elanna paused. "How do
you know the baby is a she?"
"Tom mentioned it. I hope that was all right."
"We agreed to keep that just between us, since
everyone found out about the baby so quickly."
B'Elanna's tone was one of resignation. "If
he told you, he's probably already told
everybody on the ship."
Janeway knew Tom tended to disseminate
information freely in general, but he always
respected a matter of protocol or a
confidence. "Tom came into the ready room to
deliver a report, and it slipped out. He
didn't say anything on the bridge, now that I
think about it, even though he was exuberant
today, to say the least. I won't say anything
to anyone else until it's common knowledge,
but I'd say your husband is afflicted with
Proud Father Syndrome at the moment and barely
able to contain it."
"Tom does tend to get carried away," B'Elanna
said. "At least until the next new thing
comes along."
Janeway sensed an undercurrent of anxiety
beneath B'Elanna's facile remark. She spoke
equally casually, "Oh, I don't know about
that. Tom may flit from hobby to hobby, but
the things that are central to his life keep
their place. Like flying. And his
relationship with you." B'Elanna's expression
flickered at that. "And he's already
completely smitten with his daughter, so you
don't have to worry about that either."
"I'm not worried," B'Elanna said quickly.
"Is something else bothering you?" Janeway
asked.
B'Elanna met Janeway's astute gaze. "The baby
may need to undergo another procedure."
Janeway frowned. "I got the impression from
Tom that your baby was healthy now that her
spine is realigned."
"There could be other problems in the future--"
B'Elanna stopped abruptly, and began rummaging
through her PADDs. "The doctor isn't sure
yet."
>From B'Elanna's tone it was obvious she didn't
want to talk about it, though she was clearly
anxious. But Tom wasn't anxious at all.
Whatever the doctor has said, Janeway thought
perhaps B'Elanna had taken it more seriously
than the doctor had intended.
"B'Elanna, it's natural to worry when you're
pregnant," Janeway said gently. "Or so I've
heard. But, as my grandmother used to say,
there's no use in borrowing trouble. You can
trust the doctor's judgment, and if any
problems do crop up, I know he'll take care of
them. Whatever his personality deficits, his
medical skills are without peer."
B'Elanna didn't smile at Janeway's sardonic
assessment of the doctor, but she nodded in
apparent agreement. "I know."
Janeway hoped so. She stood. "I have to check
back in on the bridge before I go off-duty.
Isn't your shift almost over too?"
"I just have a few things to finish before I
go," B'Elanna said, glancing at her pile of
PADDs again.
"When you're finished, enjoy your evening,
Lieutenant," Janeway said as she moved toward
the door. Then she stopped and looked back at
her chief engineer. "B'Elanna, if you ever
want to talk, friend to friend, you do know I'm
available, don't you?"
B'Elanna gave Janeway a startled look, but she
nodded slowly.
"I know I don't have a lot of experience in
this particular area, but I am more than
willing to listen."
"Thank you, Captain," B'Elanna said softly.
"I'll remember that."
Janeway slipped out the door, hoping B'Elanna
would remember it, and maybe even act on it.
Epilogue
After a quick walk through main Engineering,
and a few casual greetings to those on duty
there, Janeway headed back to the bridge. Her
mind was still on her chief engineer as she
approached the turbolift. Obviously B'Elanna
was feeling some unease about her pregnancy,
though she'd seemed to accept it calmly enough
last night. The full reality was probably
sinking in now, and B'Elanna was having first
pregnancy jitters. Janeway could understand
that it might take a few days for her to
completely adjust to the unexpected change,
even if that change was a positive one.
Tom, however, seemed to have no hesitancy at
all accepting the change. Janeway smiled as
she entered the turbolift, remembering how
animated he'd been all day. She was glad he
had so few reservations about his new role.
She'd seen Tom cajole B'Elanna out of worry or
doubt more than once with his optimism and
good-humor; she was sure he would again.
Janeway leaned against the turbolift railing as
the door closed. She'd been serious when
she'd told B'Elanna that she was a little
envious. Though she hadn't earnestly
contemplated having a child at any previous
point in her life, she'd always considered it
an option open to her in the future. Although
being a captain was a demanding and very full-
time job, other Starfleet captains had found a
way to have both a family and a career. She
hadn't directly discussed the subject of
children with Mark, but if they'd remained
together, they likely would have at some
point.
But that had been the case back in the Alpha
quadrant, when her life had been proceeding
along a more normal course. In the Delta
quadrant, faced with decades of isolation and
responsibility for the well-being of her crew,
the possibility of ever having her own child
had been all but taken away from her. Hell,
she hadn't even been able to consider the
possibility of a serious ongoing relationship.
The kiss she and Chakotay had shared in her
office over a month ago flashed into her
mind. They hadn't talked about it directly,
because she'd been careful to divert the
conversation to another subject whenever it
might have surfaced. But she had thought
about it, and hadn't come to any conclusion
about why at that particular moment she'd
allowed herself to indulge in something she'd
so successfully convinced herself she didn't
want anymore. And that she'd long ago
convinced herself she couldn't have anyway.
Maybe it was because she'd deleted the Fair
Haven program a few months ago. It had run its
course of popularity with the crew and even Tom
had abandoned it, likely at B'Elanna's urging,
since she'd never liked the program. Tom
turning over the deletion code to her had
pushed Janeway to a decision. The casual
companionship of a hologram had been a poor
substitute for a real companion, the doctor and
his more sophisticated self-awareness
notwithstanding. Certainly Michael O'Sullivan,
programmed charm or not, hadn't banished the
persistent loneliness she increasingly felt in
her life. Not the way a flesh and blood man who
had his own mind, who listened to her but also
argued with her, and who didn't indulge her
opinions and whims simply because he was
programmed to do so, could banish her sense of
isolation.
Janeway shook herself out of her reverie and
realized that she was still standing in a
motionless turbolift. She chastised herself;
she had things to do, more important things
than contemplating something she shouldn't be
contemplating. She straightened and addressed
the computer.
"Bridge."
Continue on toLegacies II