Go to Part II
By Jamelia
Teaser
He was basking in a haze of contentment, supported by silken cascades of reddish-gold filaments. She floated nearby. He could not see her face but could sense her presence. As long as they were near each other, he knew, all would be well.
Her sweetly musical voice murmured into his ear, bringing the first stirrings of a subtle excitement which disturbed his peaceful mood, yet, paradoxically, also had the potential to increase his tranquil emotions. But what were her words? He could barely hear them, let alone distinguish what they were, yet they had the power to transform him into another sort of being. He could sense being swept away with the changes but was powerless to stop them.
His heart began to race as soft lips bent towards his, touching them gently, fervently. Ethereal hands gently massaged his palms. From the tips of his own fingers a warmth began to flow, increasing with every pulse. Up his arms, suffusing through his body and limbs, he became warmer and warmer every second until tendrils of hair, moistened by the sheen that appeared upon his skin, drew tighter, binding him in their grip. He could barely move air into his lungs. With every breath the tangle bound him more deeply. His heart pounded harder and harder until he was strangled by the battering rush of blood throughout his being.
Fantasies of delights, as yet unknown in his experience, insinuated into his consciousness. Simultaneously, he was exhilirated and terrified by the perceptions now assaulting him. What was the cause of this bizarre dichotomy? Why was he as apprehensive it would end as he was that it would continue, until his entire body exploded into fragments of agonized bliss?
The thrill of fearful excitation washed through him, carrying him away beyond the ability to use reason or discipline to control what was happening to him. In a matter of moments he would hurtle upon a rocky shore; his body would be painfully crushed into ecstasy and he would lose himself at that moment. His only chance of survival was to grab hold of the lifeline that seemed so near, yet impossibly far away. Through waves of torment he sought a path to salvation; finally he thought he had found it. The lifeline was the voice which knocked its way into his awareness, calling him by name and commanding him to . . .
"Get up, Sleepyhead!"
For a moment Icheb was so disoriented by his visions of Naomi, so realistic had been his dream, he could have sworn she was there with him. Guiltily, he tried to purge himself of the images tumbling through his mind. Their effect upon him was as uncomfortable physically as it was sublime emotionally. If he could only shake them off . . .
"Icheb! Wake up! You're late for your shift!"
Icheb startled fully awake. No wonder he thought Naomi was there with him. She was standing over him, shaking his shoulder. Shaking him awake. At the same time she was scolding him, she was laughing hysterically. As glad as he was to see her, he was also extremely uncomfortable to have her near to him so soon after those passionate visions. He could not get out of bed with her there, since his pajamas would advertise, not hide, the degree to which they had affected him.
Icheb had what Tom Paris called a "hunch." Today was going to be a wild day.
Act One
"You have all the data you need?" Kathryn Janeway looked towards her first officer seated on the couch, where morning light spilling through her ready room window highlighted the silver strands that were usually fairly well buried within his thick black hair.
"Enough. I'd prefer to have more exact figures, but it's clear that kolonder ore is particularly abundant throughout the northern continent."
"If we can get them for you, I'll contact your shuttle by subspace. Even if we take a substantial supply, they should have all they need in the future if they discover the same technology."
"They won't even know they might need kolonder ore in the future until we start asking about it, given their current levels. Isn't that stretching the Prime Directive, at the very least? If not breaking it?"
"I don't know, Chakotay. But if we don't ask for it, how can we get it? They're just as eager to get us off their 'Treaty Planet,' as we are to leave, and Joe Carey's slipstream drive is our best hope to get home--and soon. We have to take our chances that the admirals at home will see it that way--as long as we don't share any actual technology, we should be all right."
"How do you want me to respond if they ask us about sharing our technology? I'm sure the subject will come up."
"Explain the Prime Directive the best that you can and tell them that knowing the ore has some sort of use they do not yet know about is as far as we can go. If the Minenne, Grevel-Ash, Vordai, and Gunruth'u all work together, that's as much of a hint as they'll need. And if they don't work together, they're likely to destroy each other sooner rather than later and it won't be a problem. In any case, we don't have a choice. We need the ore. Do the best you can to be evasive. Improvise." His eyes met hers as she spoke, eliciting a thrill of excitement that she immediately suppressed. There was a time and place for the musings following that emotion would engender; this was neither.
"Shall I tell them a story?" His eyes danced.
"By all means, Commander," she laughed. A few seconds the enormity of taking her leave from him caught her again. Soberly, she added, "Please be careful, Chakotay."
"I will. No abductions this trip. No one would dare, after last time!"
"I still wish you were taking the Delta Flyer for this trip."
"We'll be fine in the Sacajawea, Kathryn."
"Do you think there's really anything wrong with the Delta Flyer's navigational array, Chakotay?"
"You're not accusing our chief engineer of being possessive about the ship her husband usually flies, are you?" he asked, clearly stifling a smile.
"Well, it's certainly convenient that navigation, one of the systems on board a ship that's relatively radiation-free to fix, is what's 'out of commission,' don't you think?"
"She's a bundle of nerves, Kathryn. Let her tinker with something before she goes crazy. And it's better the Flyer stays here anyway. The transporters on our other shuttles can't cut through the interference from the kolonder ore, and Voyager's system is still down for all intents and purposes. We don't know enough about the possibility of danger to our crew from seismic activity to discount the possibility. In an emergency, the Delta Flyer may be needed more here."
"True enough."
It was well known that as kolonder transformed into benamite crystals and then broke down into an inert substance, subatomic vibrations created harmonics that had been known to cause earthquakes in areas with extensive deposits. In fact, seismic activity in what should have been stable geological areas had been one of the clues that piqued the interest of researchers from various civilizations, who finally realized the substance could provide power for an advanced propulsion drive. On Voyager's travels, intriguing hints that the slipstream drive, despite their lack of success with it on their first try almost three years ago, might evenutally work for Voyager. The discovery of large deposits of kolonder ore on New Hope provided the opportunity that Joe Carey's research needed to try again. With sufficient kolander to maintain their supplies of the rapidly decaying benamite crystals via his new technique, not to mention the need to practically rebuild Voyager's warp engines anyway thanks to the crash landing, refitting for another attempt with the slipstream drive now made sense. The transwarp experiment may have been less successful than they'd hoped, but this was the crew that never gave up. They would make it work this time.
And if it didn't, they'd just try something else. Kathryn Janeway may have been proudest of that. If will alone could do it, Voyager's crew had the will to get it done.
Chakotay added, almost as an afterthought, "I hope the Treaty World governing body is willing to talk to me about granting us permission to mine the ore, instead of insisting on talking to you personally . . ."
"They'd better, Commander! If they're serious about developing their own Federation of Planets, they need to learn to delegate responsibility."
"And if not, you'll be the one to teach it to them," he said dryly.
"I'm sure you can handle the job, Commander. Just let Harry do the driving . . . I don't want you to spend any more time filling out claim forms."
As he laughed, she mentally added, 'and come home quickly and safely to us . . . to me.'
Her heart ached with longing for what she knew could not be. How she wished she could go with Chakotay to request clearance for mining the precious ore instead of sending Harry, or perhaps could even go along with them again. The last time the three had left to go on a diplomatic mission, however, it had gone so terribly wrong. They'd been gone for weeks, lost to their crew, derelict of their duties through no fault of their own. The Gunruth'u practice of abducting beings from their three neighboring worlds had been brought to light because they unwisely kidnapped Janeway, Chakotay, and Harry Kim on that occasion. Since then, the Oligarchy had been quiet and exceedingly cooperative with all of their neighbors. They had had little choice, in the face of their former enemies uniting against them.
Terribly wrong in some ways--but, oh, so right in others! It depended upon one's point of view, she thought. For six wonderful weeks she had been free from the exigencies of command. She could be Kathryn to his Chakotay without any reservation, since her true status as his superior officer had been erased from their minds.
Now, those weeks must be remembered as if the isle on which they had spent them had been as outside of time as they had been in an out-of-the-way place. She had compartmentalized her memories of New Earth in much the same way for the past five years, but the exile she'd spent with Chakotay on New Earth had been a very different experience from life on the island on Gunruth'u.
On New Earth, despite their eventual acceptance of the fact that they could never return to Voyager (a false assumption, as it turned out), Chakotay and Kathryn had never taken the final steps to physical intimacy. Perhaps a better way to put that would be to say they had not yet taken that step, for clearly they would have, had they remained on New Earth for much longer. On the Oligarch's island, with their memories wiped of their true connection to each other or their roles in normal life, they had been free to consummate the attraction they had always felt towards each other. She could acknowledge that fact freely to herself now, if not directly to him.
She remembered every precious moment of the time Chakotay and Kathryn had spent together as lovers and as partners in adventure. Those memories were not easy to live with, however. Total abstinence, she had always known, would be the only way she could maintain the iron control required of her by her passionate nature. Now that she knew exactly what she was missing, it was difficult to bear each solitary day of separation from that life; it was even harder to say good-bye to him, even if his absence were to last for only a few days, if all went as planned.
When had anything ever gone as planned since they'd arrived in the Delta Quadrant?
His soft, "Anything else, Captain?" brought her back to the present. As professionally as he held his posture while he sat before her, PADD in hand, the tone of his voice and the look in his eye spoke the truth. He was remembering the island outside of time, too. It was no easier for him to say good-bye to her.
"Hurry back, Commander."
"I will," he said. If his voice was a little huskier than usual, well, what of that? Hers was, too.
=^=
As Icheb blinked his eyes and wrapped the thermal blanket higher around his neck, Naomi asked, sternly, but with an affectionate smile, "Are you finally awake, Icheb?" Her voice was severe, but she was smiling at Icheb affectionately. "I'm not surprised you overslept. It's so cold out here at night. Why are you still living in this tent when just about everyone else went back to their quarters weeks ago! No wonder you can't get up in the morning."
He had explained it to her in detail before. Sleeping in the tent brought him closer to the natural world of plants and animals. While he was as appreciative of the benefits of modern technology as anyone on Voyager, a part of him responded viscerally to this other world, antithetical to what the Borg had tried to make him.
Walking home to his tent at the end of Beta shift, the sight of the full glory of stars through the atmosphere of this unspoiled world could snatch away his breath. Watching the sun rise over the steppes at dawn, seeing a small burrowing animal popping up out of his home in the soil, or following the sweep of avian wings sailing upon the air currents far above his head: all of these nourished the soul of his biological being with something for which he had no name, and perhaps needed none.
He knew it was essential for him to experience these things, since he had little memory from before his assimilation of such perceptions. Perhaps he had simply been too young for the wonder of creation to have fully registered with him. While he had enjoyed watching the stars with his parents in that short, bittersweet interlude with them before Voyager rescued him from being assimilated by the Borg a second time, his native world had been so ravaged by Borg attacks that natural beauty had been nowhere in evidence when he was with them. His native race the Brunali could teach Federation scientists much about biotechnology, however. Surely, they must have become fascinated by the variety and ingenuity of their environment at some point in their history to have become so determined to learn ways to transform genomes to their own use. They had certainly succeeded in this endeavor. Icheb felt that learning to appreciate this, as much as any Starfleet Academy course, was a key part of his education. Neglecting to hunt for his own identity and place in the cosmos would put him at risk of losing something the Borg had already tried to steal from him.
Some of Voyager's crew encouraged him in this search for who this person Icheb really was. Although born of the Brunali race to be their weapon against the Borg (which he had actually become, although not in the way his natural parents and race had expected), for all intents and purposes Icheb now belonged to another race. He anticipated living in the Federation, particularly the part dominated by human beings, for the rest of his life. He felt a need to encourage this nascent "humanity" of his by a return to nature.
Although Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Tom Paris did not, on the surface, share a taste for many of the same things, both had mentored Icheb in their own ways. Chakotay's was by example, since he had maintained his home in New Hope, for as many days as he had spent there, in a "lodge" located near Icheb's campsite. Tom, a voracious reader from his earliest years, had suggested Icheb explore literature, from essays by Henry David Thoreau and the Transcendentalists to novels like "The Last of the Mohicans" and "Dances With Wolves." The novels had also been available in twentieth-century cinematic versions which had drawn Tom to their texts. The protagonists in the fiction had adopted a new way of life they deemed better than their old one. For obvious reasons, this struck a chord in the Delta Quadrant native who was bound for a future spent in the Alpha Quadrant.
It did not escape Icheb's notice that many of the titles Tom had recommended were filled with Native American lore and values. Icheb saw no sign that either man had ever realized this connection, although Icheb thought the commander should have some inkling of it. Having learned of Tom's attempt to save the water world of Monea a year before Icheb came on Voyager, Icheb would have thought Tom's reverance for life would be more widely known, despite of the pilot's studied air of irreverance.
What is obvious to others often escapes the notice of others, however, as Icheb had also learned. His own earnest attempts to describe his personal odyssey to his Naomi had been beyond her ken. So, he said only, "I like it out here."
"I worry about you getting sick from the cold," Naomi fussed.
"I have lots of blankets. If I became really cold, I'd come back inside Voyager. It gets pretty warm in here in the daytime, you know." The four-man tent, occupied now only by Icheb, was nestled against the north face of a small hill a kilometer or so from where Voyager had come to rest upon the surface of New Hope. The rocky outcrop sheltered the tent from the prevailing winds and absorbed additional heat while it basked in the light of the sun all day, although it did tend to get very cold late at night. A heater issued from the survival stores helped; and when certain thoughts and dreams came to him, the cold night air had an effect that was very much like the "cold shower." Tom had assured him this was very helpful when visions of one's beloved became too real--as they had on other nights before this. Now, with the object of his desire right there before him, Icheb did not feel equipped to get up in front of her. Not at the moment.
"Are you getting up now, or will I have to drag you out of bed?" Naomi demanded.
Icheb grimaced. Somehow, he had known she wouldn't make this easy. Tom had also taught him that the direct approach, risking possible hurt feelings, sometimes had to be taken. Icheb suspected that B'Elanna Torres had taught his mentor that particular lesson. It seemed appropriate now.
"Yes, Naomi, I am getting up now--if you will please leave me alone long enough to get dressed."
Naomi's expression became thoughtful, but she flipped open the tent flap and walked back outside without commenting. Once he was sure she was safely out of the tent, he sighed softly and arose to prepare for the day to come.
Just because she was no longer in the tent did not mean Naomi had actually gone far away, however. From just outside the tent, her voice came to him almost as clearly as if she were still inside. "You'd better hurry. We've got to get to the Sacajawea by 0900."
"The Sacajawea? Isn't Lieutenant Kim taking us in the Delta Flyer?" Icheb asked as he stepped into his pants.
"Nope. Lieutenant Torres found a glitch in the Flyer's navigational system last night. Don't ask me why she was checking over the Delta Flyer after midnight in her condition! But whatever she found, she convinced the captain to ground the Flyer until she's had a chance to fix it--by herself. 'No one else has time,' she told the captain."
"She's right, Naomi. No one else can be spared to make any repairs on a shuttle right now. Not when Voyager still needs so much work." He grunted the last sentence from the effort of pulling on his boots.
"Especially if there's nothing really wrong with the Flyer at all," Naomi agreed smugly, a mischievous lilt in her voice. "I think the real reason she found a 'problem' is that she doesn't trust Commander Chakotay and Harry to get the Flyer back in time to catch the next data stream transmission."
Icheb smiled. The data stream transmissions had become something he also looked forward to. "You can't blame her. She expects to have special news to send this time."
"Uh-huh. Hmmm. Maybe not going in the Flyer isn't so bad after all. Traveling to the work site will be a tight squeeze in the Sacajawea."
Icheb could almost hear her grin. Vorik, Marla Gilmore, Naomi, and Icheb had all been assigned to work at the site of the kolonder ore deposits on the northern continent today. That ore was the precursor to the short-lived substance benamite, and having sufficient benamite on hand was necessary for Voyager to use their new slipstream technology successfully.
As he pulled on his cadet's tunic, he felt another pair of hands pulling the back down to his waist before slipping up his back and stroking his bare skin. Startled, Icheb turned and jumped back a step. Naomi was standing there, grinning up at him. He tried to be stern about her coming in unannounced, but he couldn't be for long. He gave her a soft kiss on the mouth. Naomi threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, returning his kiss until he was breathless.
"Wouldn't you like to begin every day this way, Icheb?" she asked.
He should have known she would turn the conversation to this subject quickly. Lately, they spoke of it daily. "I do not think your mother would approve, Naomi."
"Oh, Icheb. You know very well what I mean. Mom will be okay about it once we set a date to marry. Prixin is coming, you know. Day Seven would be a great time to make the announcement."
"Naomi, I would really like to, but you aren't even seven years old yet. I don't think it's a good idea to make a commitment before the . . ."
". . . traditional Ktarian age of consent," she said for him. "You always say that whenever we talk about this!"
"We wouldn't talk about it if you didn't always bring it up." Icheb tried to keep the sharpness out of his voice, but he was not totally successful.
"Icheb, don't be angry with me. I just want everything settled between us. We are going to get married, you know. It's just a matter of time."
Icheb didn't know what to say. He knew how he felt, but he also knew how a lot of other people felt about someone as young as Naomi getting married--no matter how quickly the children of her father's race reached maturity. He resolved to discuss it with Tom. Somehow, although he joked around a lot while they talked, Tom always helped Icheb understand things better after they had a "heart-to-heart," as Tom put it.
Thinking about talking with Tom helped him realize what he needed to say to the girl he loved. "There's no rush, Naomi. We've got plenty of time."
Act two
As his wife walked into Sickbay, Tom wanted to blurt out to her, "Hey, Babe, how are you feeling?" but thought better of it. The last thing B'Elanna needed right now was anyone asking that particular question, even her husband. As it was she usually bit his head off whenever he slipped and called her "Babe." Instead, he stopped after the "Hey"--the way he usually did.
"Hey, yourself. Anything exciting on the agenda for today?"
"Nothing much. Just covering Sickbay for a while. The Doc is playing golf."
"Now, wait a minute! How is he managing that? The holodecks are still off line!"
Tom shook his head. "Who needs a holodeck on a planet that has gently rolling steppes of grass with a few sand pits scattered here and there? All the Doc needed was his golf bag and a shovel to dig out a few holes. Nine holes, to be exact. In another week, he'll have the back nine ready to play. If we're here much longer, he'll be organizing tournaments--which he will arrange to win, of course."
"Just great! I'm ready to deliver any minute and my doctor is out playing games!"
"No problem, B'Elanna. Even our poor, underpowered transporters can grab his mobile emitter and get him here at a moment's notice. Besides, I'm here, at your service. I can take care of almost any medical emergency, including the birthing of babies. You can count on me, Chief." As much as she hated most of his pet names, being reminded of her position on Voyager never bothered B'Elanna. Tom couldn't quell the feeling of self-satisfaction that came over him as he remembered that fact--or as her slowly emerging grin confirmed it. "And is my ambulance almost ready, by the way?"
B'Elanna's grin froze. She looked at him blankly for a minute before she could recognize the reference. "Soon," she said vaguely, flapping her hand a bit before using it to pat her tummy possessively.
Tom had a hunch the Delta Flyer would be fixed very soon--just as soon as Harry and Chakotay left on their mission to the four planets in the sector. He would have liked to have gone on that one. It would be nice to be a pilot again for once. He'd feel a little more in control of the situation, too.
None of the crew he'd spoken to was very happy about Harry and Chakotay going away again so soon after getting back from their imprisonment by the Gunruth'u. At least Captain Janeway wasn't going with them this time. Besides, Tom's place was definitely here right now, so close to B'Elanna's delivery of their daughter--a thought which made him realize why his wife had wandered in when, by her own admission, she still had an engineering job to finish.
"Not to complain about your granting me the pleasure of your company, Lieutenant Torres, but just why have you come to Sickbay? Do you miss me?"
B'Elanna swung her considerable bulk onto one leg, one hand perched in the "Janeway position" on what had once been and would some day again be her waist--while the other caressed her belly in a very uncaptainlike manner. "Well, I . . . um . . . I was just wondering if you could check me again to see if my cervix is effaced any more? I was feeling a few . . . twinges, a little while ago. I don't want to go crawling around inside the Flyer again until I'm sure that nothing is about to happen. With the baby, I mean."
"Ah," he said noncommittally. Crawling about in the Delta Flyer was one of her favorite things to do, second only to mucking about with Voyager's engines--a pastime which, regrettably, was denied her in her present state. If Tom had had any doubts about how desperately B'Elanna wanted her pregnancy to be over, tacitly admitting that she'd rather go through labor than play with her engines would have dispelled them quite definitively.
The whirling medical tricorder he waved before her told him its tale. Bracing himself, Tom said as brightly as he could muster, "Good news, B'Elanna. You're totally effaced."
"And I'm starting to dilate more?" she asked, hopefully.
"Well, no. Not really. You're still at 2.5 centimeters . . ." At the sight of her face as it descended into storminess, he added, "but you know how quickly these things can go sometimes . . ."
". . . for humans and Klingons alike," she finished for him. "I know, I know! The Doctor says that every time I come in here. Now you're doing it, too!"
"B'Elanna, what can I say? I'm just the guy who reads the tricorder. And I'm your husband. I want it to happen soon, too, believe me!"
B'Elanna sighed, almost reluctantly, "I know."
"Why don't you go keep yourself busy on the Flyer, fixing the navigational array for me. I'll be there to help you as soon as the Doctor gets back. I promise. Okay?"
"It's a good thing I love you so much, you know that, don't you, Flyboy? You're the one that did this to me! I've been known to cut the hearts out of people who have caused me less trouble."
"That's my B'Elanna! Almost back to normal! And you will be totally back to normal very soon, I promise you, with one little change. You'll be a mother as well as a chief engineer."
Puckering up for a quick kiss, Tom was surprised by the way she threw her arms around his neck in a big hug. Carefully moving his body to one side in order to get as close as possible to his wife while his daughter still clung stubbornly to the dependent gestational stage, Voyager's chief pilot and primary field medic/doctor's assistant provided the only comfort he could to his less-than-patient patient.
'It will be over sooner than you think,' he told himself. His wife wasn't the only one who needed comforting.
=^=
As Naomi had said, it was a tight squeeze for those riding to the northern continent in the Sacajawea. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't one of the ones riding in it.
As Naomi was stepping into the hatch of the shuttle, Commander Tuvok appeared, summoning her to her first formal class with him since he had returned to Voyager with Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim. Icheb could see from Naomi's rigid lips and the stiff way she held herself how upset and angry she was that her assignment had been changed, but wisely, she had controlled herself. Had she lost her temper, she would not have been able to go on the assignment anyway. Starfleet cadets obeyed orders, even if they were attending special, informal classes thousands of light years from San Francisco, Earth. It may even have been the primary lesson Voyager's tactical/security officer and former Academy instructor had actually been teaching her.
As a result, however, Icheb was squatting on the floor behind the Sacajawea's pilot's seat, next to Naomi's replacement Bill, Telfer, and facing the bench on which Lieutenant Harry Kim sat with Acting Ensign Marla Gilmore. That was also an unexpected change. Although Harry was still going to continue on the diplomatic mission with Commander Chakotay after they dropped off Icheb's team at the northern work site, Vorik was now the one sitting in the co-pilot's seat next to Commander Chakotay. The commander was piloting the small craft northward.
They had barely gotten the shuttle airborne before the first officer insisted upon taking over the helm from Harry Kim. Summoning Ensign Vorik to be his temporary co-pilot, Chakotay sent Harry to sit with Marla, saying, "You'll be apart from each other for several days, Harry. Take advantage of a little time together before then."
Everyone on board Voyager knew that Marla and Harry were "an item," as the Delaney sisters put it. Icheb wasn't sure if they were a couple in all ways--especially in the way that Naomi wished to be with Icheb--but it wasn't difficult to see that Marla was extremely unhappy about another separation from Lieutenant Kim so soon after his return from imprisonment by the Gunruth'u. There were no public displays of affection, of course--not while they were on duty. The two young officers sat next to each other with only their shoulders and hips touching, quietly speaking about their respective assignments. On the surface, they were simply two colleagues whiling away the time until they would each go their own way to complete their duties. That was on the surface.
Under the surface, however, Icheb could perceive Marla's distress in the redness of the rims of her eyes. She had been crying recently, and on several occasions, a seemingly innocuous phrase from Harry made her look suddenly away from him or a catch come into her voice as she replied. Considering what had happened so recently, no diplomatic mission in this sector of space could safely be called "no big deal" or "routine." On the other hand, a comment like "when we get back home to Earth" seemed relatively innocent to Icheb but not, evidently, to Marla. Icheb would have to ask Tom about it in a few days, after the return to Voyager.
Thinking about talking with Tom brought a recent conversation to mind--about Commander Chakotay's record piloting shuttles. It wasn't particularly comforting to be riding in the Sacajawea. Apparently the first officer had crashed the Sacajawea at least once before, although obviously not beyond repair. Icheb had to wonder if the Commander had deliberately waited until he was out of the captain's sight to take over, just so she wouldn't worry about them. Icheb wished that he knew a little less about the commander's piloting record when a sudden bump of air turbulence bounced the top of his head against the control panel behind him. Perhaps Marla was upset because she knew the commander was going to be the pilot for the diplomatic mission, not Harry?
Not being able to see anything but clouds rushing by viewports made Icheb feel even more out of control of his situation than he usually would as a shuttle passenger. If Tom were the shuttle pilot, Icheb might even have had a quick turn at the controls while Tom instructed him on possible problems and ways to counter them. He was a good teacher as well as a good friend. The letters from Admiral and Mrs. Paris meant a lot to Icheb, even more when he realized that their son had been the one to suggest to his parents that Icheb would like to receive a little mail from the Alpha Quadrant. Icheb didn't know if he could ever fully express his gratitude to the entire Paris family, although he was beginning to think he might have the opportunity to try.
As the small craft swung about, Icheb caught a glimpse of gleaming white mountains reflected in sunlit water. They must be coming to Tall Girl Mountain, as Tom had dubbed it on their first survey mission. The peak was certainly tall, although Tom's name--which had stuck with everyone--had more to do with the fact that a pair of foothills at its base had an undeniably "busty" look, as Tom had explained to Icheb that day. B'Elanna's acerbic "You see busty girls in everything, don't you, Paris?" when they'd told her about it upon their return had confused Icheb at first. Was she really angry with Tom? When the two had laughed together and walked off arm-in-arm, however, Icheb observed how comfortable they were with each other. As much as he loved Naomi, Icheb couldn't say they had reached that stage of understanding and accepting each other yet. He wondered if it simply took more time, or was Ensign Wildman really right about the two of them--they weren't really ready to commit the rest of their lives to one another. A few days together, as they had expected when they had received this assignment a few days ago, would have been nice, however. He had been looking forward to "camping out" with her as part of the team ordered to finish mapping the kolonder ore deposits and setting up the mining camp to be used if Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim were successful in their mission.
When the shuttle touched down safely, Icheb found himself expelling a sigh of relief. He helped Billy Telfer get to his feet, just in time to avoid being stepped upon by Vorik, who fairly leapt out of the co-pilot's seat; Marla was already on her feet, courtesy of Lieutenant Kim. They stood looking at each other for several seconds without letting go of each other's hands before Icheb heard Marla whisper, "Take care, Lieutenant," and Harry's hushed, "Likewise, Ensign."
Act three
Marla felt miserable. How could they send Harry off again so soon, after what had just happened to him? And with Chakotay? That wasn't the best of omens for the success of a mission to request permission to radically change the agreement through which Voyager's crew had been permitted to remain on New Hope. That agreement had expressly forbidden Voyager's crew from mining anything at all from the soil of New Hope. Just because the four worlds controlling what they referred to as the "Treaty World" might have no clue concerning the true value of kolonder, it didn't follow they would allow it to be removed from New Hope.
At least she had those forty minutes talking with Harry on the trip north, thanks to the commander's compassion in taking the helm. She wished Harry were going to spend the next few days with her at Tall Girl Mountain, or even if he would be able to pick them up in the Delta Flyer--or even the finally-repaired Copernicus--after they had established the mining camp. But no, Harry was going to be gone for at least the next four days. Someone else would have to pick up the team.
The only good thing about Harry's not staying with her was that she wouldn't have to face The Question again. Harry had been very considerate of her reluctance to become intimately involved with him: he only asked her once a day now if she'd changed her mind. It was her own fault, she surmised. If she simply refused to see him any more socially, he was too much the gentleman to press her further. By maintaining their close friendship, she kept his hope for something more alive.
Truthfully, she wasn't sure she really wanted to refuse him any longer. Actually, she didn't want to refuse him, but for his own good, she must. If Harry Kim were reduced to having to choose between his Starfleet career and virtually anything else, she was sure his career would win. Becoming involved with one of the infamous Equinox Five--or would-be-infamous, once they got back to the Alpha Quadrant and the Admiralty got hold of them--would be fatal to Harry's hopes for a successful career in Starfleet. She didn't want to force him to make that choice. Staying "just friends" was the best way. Really.
Now, if she could only convince herself she was doing the right thing . . .
After Harry helped her out of her seat, they had time only for a few whispered words to be careful before they were caught up in disembarking from the shuttle and unloading the team's supplies from the cargo compartments. Minutes later, the shuttle had sailed into space above their heads while the survey team was preparing to hike into Cleavage Valley--another of those very appropriate, slightly naughty names Tom Paris had managed to attach to a geological feature on New Hope, leaving the team to face the tedious, unglamorous task of setting up a base camp and planning a mining operation that caused the minimum amount of damage to the surrounding environment as possible.
Marla shook herself free from her concern for Harry's safety long enough to notice Icheb's forlorn gaze after the shuttle. She remembered then that Icheb had been expecting to spend the next few days with Naomi. 'Poor kid,' Marla thought. He was finding out pretty quickly that not every job in Starfleet was as exciting as piloting a starship or mapping a new star system in Astrometrics. Some jobs simply needed to be done, so they were done. Simple as that.
Even the boring jobs had some rewards, though--not the least of which was that boring was usually safe. She'd learned that lesson the hard way, thanks to her time on the Equinox. She'd also learned another lesson on that ill-fated ship that was affirmed, far more happily, during her time on Voyager: the value of working together and supporting each other through the hard times. It was time to put that particular lesson into practice once again, and since she had been placed in charge, she had the means to do it.
"Vorik, Telfer, you buddy up," Marla called out. "Icheb, You're with me. Let's see how fast we can get camp set up so we can have a little fun. I'm in the mood for a hike in the wilderness! How about you?"
As Icheb's shy smile appeared, she knew that this time, at least, she had certainly said the right thing.
=^=
"What's the matter, Cadet? Missing your partner in crime?" teased Joe Carey as he passed Naomi Wildman. She sniffed deeply in disgust as she pulled out another gelpack to examine and then smiled ruefully.
"Maybe I'm sorry the only climbing I'm going to be doing this afternoon is through a Jefferies tube instead of up a cliff."
"Can't have exciting adventures all the time. Sometimes you just have to roll up your sleeves and do the dirty work."
"I guess so. These gelpacks aren't only dirty, though. They're icky!" As she reverted to the childish term, Naomi wrinkled her nose in distaste. The particular packs they were working on in this area were certainly "icky" as in "sticky," for several of their number in the lowest two decks of the ship had developed small ruptures as the ship had crashed. None had been completely destroyed, since the self-sealing skin system had generally worked well, preventing the loss of most of the viscous fluid within despite the way they'd been abused in the crash. What had spilled out, however, had attracted particles of dirt, dust, inorganic debris, and microorganisms of assorted types so that, between the way they felt and the way they smelled, the term "icky" described them pretty well.
Since the ship depended upon the gelpacks to be in working order if it would ever arise again from New Hope, reconditioning them was not an option but grave necessity. Somebody had to do it. And today, one of those somebodies was Naomi Wildman, Freshman Cadet of Starfleet Academy (Distant Learners Program). For a day that had begun with the promise of adventuring on the northern continent, the way it had progressed was very depressing, to say the least.
Still, she was getting class credits in Starship Maintenance and in Elementary Bioneural Circuitry Mechanics by cleaning up the mess the crash had left, checking each gelpack for damage and packing into small portable stasis chambers any that needed more than a simple surface cleaning and injection of antibacterial agents to recondition the fluid interior. Boring work, but vital to the ship, helping them all get one step closer to home. Everyone on Voyager wanted to get home, right?
'Well, not exactly,' Naomi thought, glancing over at James Morrow, who was carrying one of the stasis chambers to the exit hatch to bring it to Sickbay. It was no secret the survivors of the Equinox weren't particularly eager to get back to the Alpha Quadrant. Some of the Maquis, it was rumored, were also cool to returning to a quadrant where the Cardassians, after causing the death and destruction of entire colonies and billions of lives, were again considered allies of the Federation.
Naomi doubted anything bad would happen to any of them when they got home, though, and it would be so good to finally meet her dad. Her mom had done her best to speak to Naomi about him and make him into a real parent to her, even if he were so far away. The letters in the data stream had helped, but she still found it difficult to visualize him in any way other than the holographic images her mother had shown her. She missed not knowing how his laugh sounded, or even what his shaving lotion smelled like. There was so much more she wanted to know about him that she could only find out when they actually met. Still, she looked forward to introducing him to Icheb, even if his knowledge of her father wasn't much less than her own.
It would be wonderful to have her family finally all together in one room, but there would be a price. All of these wonderful people working around her right now--Joe Carey, Neelix, Sarexa, Celes, Tabor, Murphy, Sue Nicoletti--they would scatter not just to the four winds, but to interstellar winds, at that. They were her family, too, and she would miss them as much, and maybe more, than she missed her father right now. After all, she knew all of them. She didn't really know her dad.
At least by having Icheb as her husband--or fiance, if her parents insisted upon the old-fashioned, traditionally five-year long engagement (more like five-long-years engagement, Naomi thought)--she wouldn't be losing him. She couldn't bear to think of losing Icheb. She was sorry he didn't seem to feel the same way. There was no point in waiting around when she knew she's always love Icheb, and he would always love her. She could tell he was the faithful type.
After returning the now-healthier and soon-to-be perfectly healed gelpack to its place in the circuitry, Naomi moved down the line to the next gelpack assigned to her. Before removing it from the circuit, she carefully wiped her hands clean with a special hygienic towelette developed by the Doctor. Discarding the towelette in the waste receptacle she carried, logically enough, wrapped around her waist, Naomi followed procedure and pulled out her tricorder to take a thorough scan of the gelpack before making any attempt to repair it.
This one had suffered a greater degree of damage than most of the previous packs, only one of which she had needed to pack in stasis for a repair trip to Sickbay. This gelpack had lost more fluid, although it had also already healed itself to a greater degree than the others she'd seen, possibly because it had not become as dirty or fouled by microorganisms because it had been housed in a more protected place within the walls of the Jefferies tube. She wasn't sure this one needed to go to Sickbay, but she decided she should clean it up before making a final decision about whether or not it needed further treatment.
Setting her tricorder down on the floor before her, Naomi removed the gelpack. The tricorder's telltale panel was within the range of her peripheral vision as she worked. That was why she had more warning than the others of what was going on above her, on Deck 11. An anomalous reading, chronicling the precipitous rise of theta radiation in the Jefferies tube, caught her attention.
For a split second she wasn't sure what to do. Then instinct took over. She couldn't abandon the little gelpack to being washed with theta radiation without the protection of its circuitry housing. Cradling the gelpack to her like a little baby, Naomi stepped over to the portable stasis chamber and slipped it inside. As soon as it began to hum, Naomi grabbed it in one hand and pulled jumped up the ladder, even as the echoes of her shipmates' voices echoed down the shaft.
"Emergency! Radiation leak! All personnel vacate Decks 11, 12 and 13! Radiation leak! All personnel . . ."
Epilogue
A hemisphere away, at almost exactly the same time, Acting Ensign Marla Gilmore and her companion, Cadet Icheb, were crossing a section of Cleavage Valley where the path narrowed as it wound around a deep gorge, forcing them to tiptoe along the edge in single file. A sudden, sharp ground tremor rocked the ground and cracked the track from beneath their feet. To Icheb, it seemed as if time had suddenly fractured into such tiny segments that he could experience every second as if it were a minute. As he began to slide down the side of the gorge, he managed to catch hold of a protruding root and avoided a hard tumble down the side of the cliff.
Seconds later, although clods of dirt continued to rain down upon his head, he opened his eyes to look for Marla. To his horror, he could see her sprawled ten meters below him, half-covered with debris. She was lying totally still.
While a fall like this could cause serious injury to anyone, for Marla, it could be far worse. She had recovered only a few months before from a head injury that had left her comatose and near death for several days. Icheb had helped develop the therapy that eventually saved her life and mental capacities. Icheb remembered what the Doctor had said to Marla in Icheb's presence after her injury. "You must be diligent and avoid further injuries to the head if at all possible, Ms. Gilmore. Despite your recovery, you will be more vulnerable to serious concussions in the future."
Without thinking of his own safety, Icheb released his hold upon the root and slid the rest of the way down the gorge on his stomach. As he hit bottom he twisted his left ankle, but he quickly discovered he was otherwise unhurt. Bending over Marla, he checked her condition. Marla was alive, but her pulse was week and she seemed to be barely breathing. He was sure she had sustained a concussion.
Hitting his comm badge, Icheb tried to contact Vorik and Telfer. Neither replied, even though the bandwidth of the message should have reached them easily and summoned them. The kolonder-laden dust floating in the air around him might easily hamper communications by comm badge, he realized, especially if they had gone underground to map their end of the valley, as they had planned. At least Icheb hoped that was all that had happened. He didn't want to think what an earthquake would do to anyone unlucky enough to be caught inside that cave system when it struck.
Hitting his comm badge again, in as steady a voice as he could manage, Icheb called out, "Mayday, mayday! Voyager, this is Cadet Icheb. Ensign Gilmore has had an accident. She's been knocked unconscious from a fall. Request immediate medical assistance."
For several agonizing seconds Icheb waited for a reply. He was about to hit his comm badge again when a crackling response erupted from his communicator.
"Icheb, this is B'Elanna Torres. I'm in the Delta Flyer. Your signal is very weak. Do you read me?"
"Yes, Lieutenant," Icheb said, intensely relieved. "Marla needs help."
"I just contacted Sickbay. The Doctor ordered Tom and me to assist you. We'll be on our way as soon as he can get here. Sit tight. We'll be there in . . ."
The whine of the transporter drowned out whatever else she said, but Tom's voice finished for her: ". . . about thirty minutes. Hold on, Icheb. We're coming."
Teaser
As Captain Janeway hurried out of the turbolift onto Deck 10, she had to sidestep several people who were lying in the corridor. Medical triage had been set up there for the crew, some of whom were still spilling out of the Jefferies tubes leading from the lower three decks of Voyager. Although none of her crew seemed to be in grave danger, she looked for her EMH to confirm her impression. Finally, she saw him silhouetted against a doorway, kneeling next to a prone Joe Carey.
"Doctor! Report!" she ordered as she approached them.
The EMH answered her without looking up from his examination of Lieutenant Carey. "No serious injuries, Captain Ensign Wildman and I have things under control."
"Tom and B'Elanna are safely out of the way?"
"Yes, I sent them north to help Ensign Gilmore."
She nodded. "A good decision--worthy of the Emergency Command Hologram himself," she said. The Doctor, sparing a quick glance for his captain, smiled briefly. Although the EMH's initial contact with her had been somewhat garbled, thanks to two separate medical emergencies occurring almost simultaneously, she had almost immediately grasped that B'Elanna Torres, for the safety of her yet unborn child, had to be where the least exposure to dangerous radiation was present. Despite some risk from radiation that was inherent in kolonder ore, theta radiation posed a far more serious threat to the child. Kathryn had agreed completely with sending B'Elanna as far away from the temptation to run to her beloved engineering when it was in crisis to a mission of mercy for one of her engineering staffers .
"What happened, Lieutenant Carey?" she asked.
"Not certain, Captain," Joe Carey said, coughing. "It just seemed to come out of nowhere. None of the equipment we were using should have created any theta radiation. There isn't anything we've detected in this area of the planet known to cause it, either; but something caused the external venting system to release theta radiation. And, since we're not in space, atmospheric pressure backed the radiation into the ship again."
"We'll get to the bottom of it," the captain vowed. Turning to the Doctor, she said, "Since Lieutenant Paris isn't available, may I assist you and your staff?"
"Thank you, Captain. I can use all the field medics I can get! If you'll administer 25 cc's of Anaprovaline to Mr. Carey, I'll check on Mr. Murphy's condition."
"And Doctor . . . "
"And I'll ask Mr. Murphy if he knows anything about what caused the radiation leak," the Doctor finished for her.
She had a wonderful, well-trained crew--no question of that.
Act One
Although Icheb's perception of time had been metronome-like since his initial contact with the Borg, he experienced the distortion of "minutes passing like hours" he'd heard about from others while he waited for Tom and B'Elanna to arrive in the Delta Flyer. It seemed like he'd been sitting there forever, trying to ignore the soreness of his ankle when he'd slid down the side of the gorge after Marla's injury, feeling like he was the only person on this world instead of one of only 150 or so. As far as he knew, he was one of only four on the northern continent, one of whom was the unconscious Marla.
When Marla began to stir, he made sure that her limbs were straightened (and apparently unbroken) and did what he could to help her into a comfortable position. When her eyes fluttered open, he cautioned her, "Don't move, Ensign. You've been injured from a fall. You were knocked unconscious."
"Ohhh," she groaned. "Is that why my head hurts so much? I feel like I'm going to be sick."
At Marla's request, Icheb helped her onto her side, in case her nausea manifested in a spell of vomiting. Marla managed not to be sick, but she wasn't very coherent, either. Icheb vaguely remembered advice about keeping those with a head injury awake by talking to them, so he told her, "I haven't heard from Ensign Vorik and Crewman Telfer since the earthquake."
"Is that what happened? An earthquake? I don't remember anything but walking, along the path and then waking up here. We've got to go find them!"
When she started to get up, Icheb pushed her down again. "Ensign, we don't know how seriously you have been injured. As soon as Lieutenants Paris and Torres get here, I'll go look for them."
Marla began to object, but she was interrupted by the sound of a shuttle approaching their position. Seconds later, the tingle of the transporter heralded the whisking of Marla and Icheb to the floor of the lower deck of the Delta Flyer.
Simultaneously, it seemed, Tom Paris was standing over them, moving his medical tricorder systematically over Marla and studying the results. "What's your name?" he asked her.
"Marla Gilmore."
"What day is it?"
"Tuesday . . . Stardate . . . I forget. Wait. It's 54930 point . . . I don't know what the rest of the date is."
"Close enough, since you've been out cold for a while," Tom said, with a grin. "What's your rank and your ship?"
"Ensign . . . acting ensign on USS Voyager."
"Very good. Now, count out loud from one to one hundred, and keep your eyes on the probe wherever I move it."
Obediently, Marla began to count out while Tom moved the probe from one side of her head to the other and then back again. She'd reached fifteen when Tom said, "That's enough counting, Marla. And your field of vision looks okay. Icheb, help me get her up on the biobed."
"I'm fine, really. I don't need any help," Marla murmured, struggling against their attempt to lift her onto the biobed.
"Really?" Tom replied. "With readings like I'm getting, I'd say you must have a crushing headache, at the very least."
"She was complaining of nausea just before you beamed us aboard, Lieutenant Paris," Icheb added.
"Tattletale," Marla muttered resignedly, then continued, with some effort, "We have to find out what happened to Vorik and Telfer, Tom. We haven't heard from them since the quake."
"Icheb can send a message from the comm station down here, if you like, so you can 'supervise,' but I really need to examine you thoroughly. I think it's pretty clear that you have a concussion, Marla, and I don't think a particularly bad one. If you weren't vulnerable to them from your earlier injury, maybe you wouldn't have gotten one this time; but you are vulnerable, and you did get one. I think you're going to be fine, but Doc'll skin me alive if I don't give you a full scan. And then, of course, he'll have to give you his own personal, more-thorough-than-Starfleet-Medical neural examination once we're back on Voyager anyway, because you know he won't trust my findings! You know how he gets. But I really won't feel right until I've made sure you don't have a blood clot ready to cause big trouble lurking inside your brain. Okay?"
Marla closed her eyes and massaged her forehead. "Okay, I give in. You're right about the headache, and my stomach is doing flip-flops." She accepted Tom and Icheb's assistance and allowed herself to be lifted onto the Delta Flyer's biobed.
Several quiet minutes passed while Tom ran scans on Marla and Icheb attempted to raise Vorik and Telfer at the comm station. The medical scans went better than the search for the missing crewmen, and eventually they called B'Elanna for help. She waddled clumsily down the steps from the upper level, saying, "Don't worry, Tom, I parked the Flyer in geosynchronous orbit, right above the mining site."
"Thanks, B'Elanna. You didn't have to come down. You could have remained on the flight deck to . . . are you all right?" Tom asked, noting her stiff walk and the grimace that came over her face as she approached the biobed.
"I'm fine," she responded brusquely, although the exaggerated way she grabbed at her spine while stretching her back as she passed by suggested otherwise. Tom, Icheb, and even Marla stared at her incredulously. "Don't you all have something better to do than look daggers at me like that?" Her voice became more waspish with every word, and, Icheb exchanged worried glances with Tom.
"Lieutenant, are you sure you're all right?" Icheb asked. "You are so close to delivery . . ."
"Back off, all of you!" B'Elanna snarled, as she stalked towards the banks of instruments next to where Icheb was working. "Have any of you thought to look for a Vulcan and a human using our sensors? I didn't think so."
"Hmmm," was all Tom said, who pointed his medical tricorder in his wife's direction as soon as her back was turned.
Icheb moved closer to Tom and, making sure he was facing well away from B'Elanna, whispered, "How soon will we be leaving for Voyager?"
"Not until we know Vorik and Billy are all right--and we also need to get an 'all clear' from the Doctor. There was a radiation leak just before we left. We have to stay away from Voyager until they've got it under control, for the baby's sake. " Tom was staring at the tricorder's readings, then added, nonchalantly, "By the way, B'Elanna, seven centimeters."
She exhaled suddenly and looked back at Tom. They exchanged nods and then went back to their respective duties: Tom, adjusting the biobed controls to set up another neural scan of Marla, while B'Elanna sat down heavily in front of the sensors and set up a sweep for Vulcan life signs.
Icheb took it upon himself to continue switching bandwidths, trying to find one that would cut through the large amounts of kolonder ore dust which lingered in the area, where it had been dispersed in the air by the earthquake via several small landslides not unlike the one that had tossed Marla into the gorge. The powder was so fine, he noted, it must hover in the air for a very long time. He marked the densest clouds in the sensor logs as locations to explore more fully, to see if kolonder ore would be easier to remove from those spots than from the cave system they had originally intended to mine.
As he worked, Icheb pondered the fact that neither of the women looked well. Marla was pale and seemed on the verge of going to sleep, but Tom kept chatting with her, forcing her to respond to him. Lieutenant Torres grasped her stomach at one point and stared so grimly at him that Icheb became a little nervous before he realized she wasn't looking at him, but through him. The EMH had had Icheb read about Klingon labors as part of his course of study in field medicine. Icheb was glad, now, that he had done so. He wondered if he would be able to handle any broken bones that might come, if the baby were to come now, while only the four of them were on the Delta Flyer.
Then another thought hit him. "Lieutenant, was Naomi in engineering when the radiation leak occurred?"
"I think so," Tom answered. "But don't worry. I don't believe there were any serious injuries."
Icheb tried not to be too worried about Naomi, but he couldn't help thinking about her. Under normal circumstances, he would volunteer to go back down to the surface, to the cave system that Vorik and Telfer had intended to explore, to check on the condition of the topography and see if he could find them. He didn't bother; he knew that he would not be allowed. There was no one available for him to "buddy up" with, since the women were in no condition medically for such an activity and Tom was needed to stay and care for them both. Icheb wasn't disappointed, however. He would just have to find them from the Delta Flyer--because now wanted to get back to Voyager and make sure Naomi was all right.
=/\=
"Are you trying to say there was no radiation leak, Tuvok?" Janeway asked, a dangerous glint in her eye.
"No, I am not. There was a radiation leak, but it was far less dangerous than our instruments had detected. Under normal circumstances, such a small leak from the environmental control system is vented harmlessly into space. We are not in space, however; and because of the crash, the sensors for that system did not automatically recalibrate as they normally would. The force of debris from the explosion striking the gauge did not help matters. A very small amount of theta radiation, therefore, was perceived to be a far more serious leak, as it would be if it were at the same level when the ship was traveling in space. As it was, the venting was also not accomplished in as efficient a manner as normal, since the dust in the atmosphere reflected some of the radiation back into the ship, and . . ."
"Thank you, Commander, I think I can surmise the rest. But what exploded to cause our 'very small leak' of theta radiation?"
The Vulcan turned to one of the two people standing next to him. "I believe Mr. Neelix can explain that chain of events more ably than I."
"Well?" Kathryn turned her laser glare upon the fidgeting Talaxian.
"Captain, I don't understand it. I've made Stavorian Delight Cordial every year for Prixin. You know, it's one of your favorites! Such a lovely chartreuse in color, and the bouquet is simply . . ." Noting the impatient gleam in the captain's eye, he quickly returned to the main point. "Um, well, this is the first time a container has ever exploded on me like this. The crash must have damaged the cask."
"I can't believe you've been making Stavorian Delight on board a ship, Neelix," Sarexa scolded. "The gases are known to build up to extremely high levels when it ferments! On Talax, Captain, it's made in reinforced titanium casks, and in specially designed cellars!"
Neelix sputtered, "I make it on board Voyager every year! It's never caused a radiation leak before!"
The captain raised her eyes to the ceiling, the same direction her tactical officer's left eyebrow had ascended. "Now that we know it can cause a radiation leak, we'll have to be more careful in the future. If you're going to continue making it--and I agree, it's become a tradition, so if you can manage to make it safely, you may continue doing it--but please don't store the container next to any vital systems, Mr. Neelix."
"Of course, Captain." Although briefly chastened, Neelix's countenance brightened as he mused, "Now that Icheb has his own quarters, I might be able to store it in Cargo Bay Two again! I'll move the other container there immediately."
"Where is the 'other container' located now, Mr. Neelix?" Tuvok asked severely.
"In my quarters," Neelix admitted.
"Under normal conditions in space, I believe that location would suffice. It is far enough away from any vital systems not to pose a grave danger to the ship. It might be prudent, however, to move your existing supply off the ship entirely while we are still in the process of making extensive repairs," Tuvok suggested.
"Good idea!" Neelix enthused.
"Excellent idea, Commander. Mr. Neelix, please see to it. Immediately. Dismissed."
Neelix, followed closely by Sarexa, exited the ready room.
"I will make sure the container is moved far away from the ship, Captain."
"While we're on the subject, now might be a good time to move that still to a safer place."
"Captain?" Tuvok raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"You know, the 'non-existent' Maquis still in engineering. I'd prefer not to risk sustaining any more damage from fermentation gone awry at the moment. We have quite a long list of repairs to complete as it is."
"I have already reinitiated gelpack cleanup procedures on Decks 11, 12, and 13, as well as another detail to make sure the environmental control system is repaired immediately, with an emphasis upon fixing the automatic detection devices. Will there be anything else, Captain? Shall I contact the Doctor and check on our casualties?"
"No, thank you, Tuvok. I'll do that myself. Dismissed."
After the Vulcan had also exited, Kathryn collapsed into her desk chair, rubbing her forehead to forestall the headache she could feel brewing behind the bone. Seconds later, her comm badge beeped. It was the EMH.
"I was just going to contact you, Doctor. I found out that a lot less theta radiation was released than first was estimated. Virtually nil, in fact."
::::I conjectured that, Captain, from the nature of the injuries sustained by the crew. The most serious was Mr. Carey's broken wrist, from his fall when the ladder he was descending detached from the wall of the Jefferies tube outside of Deck 12. Other personnel suffered bumps and bruises, but no one needed to be treated for radiation exposure at all. I was going to contact Mr. Paris, to let him know it will be safe to bring Ms. Torres back to Voyager whenever he wishes.::::
"Please, Doctor. Let me know if there's any more news on Mr. Vorik and Mr. Telfer, or about Ensign Gilmore's condition."
::::I will, Captain. EMH out::::
Seconds later, she was paged again, causing her to mutter under her breath about never getting a spare minute to gather her thoughts before having to respond to the next crisis.
::::Ayala to Captain Janeway . . . Commander Chakotay is reporting in, Captain.::::
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Kathryn replied, brightening as her headache quickly receded.
"Commander, any crises to report?"
::::None. Should I have?::::
"On a day as bizarre as this one has been, you'll be one of the few who don't . . ." As she proceeded to bring him up to speed on the day's events, Kathryn decided that having the opportunity to share them with her first officer was just about the fastest headache remedy she'd ever tried.
=/\=
Act Three
::::EMH to Delta Flyer::::
"Yes, Doctor . . . Marla has a concussion and Icheb sprained his ankle, but I couldn't find anything else wrong with either of them," Tom responded. "How are things back there? Is the radiation leak contained?"
::::Ah, the radiation leak! Courtesy of Mr. Neelix's traditional dietary delights for Prixin, as it turns out.::::
"Excuse me? Neelix is serving something that's radioactive for Prixin?" Tom said, disbelief evident in his voice.
::::Not really. It's a long story for another time. Suffice it to say that you can return to Voyager any time you wish. It's safe for B'Elanna and the baby now, and I want to examine Marla myself. No offense, Mr. Paris.::::
B'Elanna caught Tom's torn expression as he replied, "None taken. It's good to know we can return when we want, Doc, but we haven't been able to raise Vorik or Telfer yet. We want to complete a few more sensor sweeps first."
::::I understand completely. I'll speak to the captain about sending another shuttle to search for them so you can bring my patients back to Voyager . . . unless you want to ask her for assistance yourself, of course . . . ::::
"I'm not a patient! I'm an expectant mother," B'Elanna growled in what she thought was an extremely quiet voice, although Tom clearly heard her. He glared in her direction and made a slicing gesture with his thumb from one side of his throat to the other, one of his clever little signs not to say anything more. B'Elanna wanted to make a cutting remark back, but a sudden contraction kept her silent.
"Please, Doc. If the captain sends another shuttle, I won't mind returning. I wouldn't feel right about leaving the area right now, just in case they need medical assistance."
::::I'll speak to her immediately. Come back soon! I'm sure little Miral will be making her appearance very soon now.::::
"Wait," Icheb interrupted. "Is Naomi all right? She wasn't affected by the radiation?"
::::She's perfectly fine, Icheb. As for the radiation scare, I'll let you know all about it when you get back, although I doubt I'll need to. I'm sure everyone will want to fill you in! I have to contact the captain now, however. EMH out.::::
"The Doctor not seizing an opportunity to bend our ears about something--now there's a first," Tom joked. B'Elanna tried to laugh, but she couldn't.
This contraction was lasting a long time--a very long time--and her personal desires warred with her professionalism. As chief engineer of Voyager, technically on maternity leave though she might be, she needed to keep looking for her missing crew members. As B'Elanna Torres, mother-to-be, she wanted to forget about looking for Vorik and Telfer and return to Voyager immediately.
From the beginning, when she'd first learned of her pregnancy, B'Elanna had wondered if she would know when labor began. She'd heard of women who had not. Now she knew labor could creep up on you, disguised as the sort of contractions she'd been getting off and on for many weeks, preparing her womb for birth. Ever since Tom had told her she was dilated a full seven centimeters, she'd known. She hadn't been able to kid herself she wasn't really in labor. Her baby was going to be born soon, and if they didn't get back to Voyager quickly, it would be here in the Delta Flyer. The last thing she wanted was to have her daughter delivered out here in the wilderness. Her doctor was back on Voyager! That's where she wanted to be!
She had said nothing of this to Tom, though. She knew their duty was to search for Vorik and Telfer until they were found or their fate was known. It was harder and harder to concentrate on her sensors, however, with every contraction taking her breath away while she did her best to hide what was happening from her husband. The last thing he needed was to worry about her while he was doing his duty for their shipmates.
B'Elanna gripped desperately onto the console in front of her as another wave of pain sliced through her. She was aware of Icheb's voice speaking to someone nearby--no, not nearby, but over the comm line--two voices over the comm, with Tom's voice breaking in and another voice, a woman's voice, saying something, too.
As the contraction released its hold upon B'Elanna, she realized that one of the voices she heard was Vorik's.
::::. . . were trapped behind some rubble in the caves for an extended period, Lieutenant Paris. We used our phasers to break through the rocks.::::
B'Elanna saw Tom's eyes turn towards her, glinting with humor. "It's always good to have a gun in a rock fall, isn't it, B'Elanna?"
Despite her discomfort, B'Elanna had to choke back a laugh at that comment. Trust Vorik to prompt that particular memory!
::::It is, indeed, Lieutenant. It is helpful, also, to have a working tricorder and the equipment at our campsite so that we could devise a way to boost our communicator signal through the kolonder ore-dust which had interfered with our ability to contact you until now.::::
"It's good to know you're both all right. We were able to transport Marla and Icheb to the Flyer through the dust. Would you like to return to Voyager with us?"
::::No, Lieutenant Paris. Our campsite was not damaged in any way. The rock substrata is the most geologically stable area in this region and away from the primary vein of kolonder ore. We should be safe enough here to complete our main mission of working on the logistics of our mining operation and finishing construction of base camp facilities while you return Ensign Gilmore and Cadet Icheb back to Voyager for treatment. If the captain sends another shuttle to us, however, I would advise that portable shield generators be brought along as standard equipment for this site, along with pattern enhancers to improve transporter function in an emergency.::::
"Done, Ensign. We'll relay the good news to Voyager that you're okay. I have a hunch the captain won't let you stay here too long, so don't waste your time completing the final mining surveys. They should be postponed until Commander Chakotay gets us permission to mine the ore. Why go through all that work until we're sure we'll be able to do it?"
::::Agreed. In that case, we must complete our tasks as soon as possible. Ensign Vorik out.::::
"Acknowledged. Delta Flyer out." As the connection was audibly broken, Tom said, "That's good news! We can get underway now. B'Elanna, can you get up to . . . B'Elanna? B'Elanna!"
The contraction squeezed her body so powerfully, B'Elanna couldn't catch enough breath to say anything. The best she could manage was a loud groan. With a terrible clarity, B'Elanna could sense a commotion around her, then felt Tom's arms as they encircled her, even though she was sure her intense gripping of his wrists could snap his bones any second. Those long, slender bones of his were deceptive, however. She was grateful that, once again, they were strong enough to stand up to all that she could inflict upon them.
"Icheb, get Marla up to the flight deck and fly us back to Voyager as quickly as you can. And don't let Marla fall asleep on the trip. I need the biobed for B'Elanna now. "
"I'm . . . not . . . sick . . . Flyboy . . ." B'Elanna managed to gasp out.
"Of course you aren't, but I need to check on our baby. You'll get up there on the biobed so I can scan her, won't you, Chief?"
"Now that you . . . put it . . . that way . . . ahhh!"
Tom's blue eyes, brimming with concern, swam into her sight, just as B'Elanna felt a splash of amniotic fluid erupt from her body. "Oh, Tom! Our baby . . . is going to be born . . . here!"
"Looks like it," he agreed with a quick grin. "The Doctor is going to be furious with her."
"He'll get over it," B'Elanna replied, holding onto her husband as he slid her onto the just-vacated biobed. Her anchor. Her lover. The man who had believed in her when she wasn't herself and reminded her that courage wasn't the absence of fear, but the willingness to act even when afraid; who had shared disaster and joy with her and taught her to laugh in the face of both.
As she felt a force rip through her that would change all of their lives forever, B'Elanna was glad that Tom was there with her, whispering encouragingly in her ear, "Okay, Sweetheart. You're finally at ten centimeters! Bear down, B'Elanna. C'mon, Baby, let's see our daughter's face . . ."
=/\=
Icheb was glad he was supporting Marla as they walked up the stairs to the flight deck. For all of her brave words earlier, she seemed on the edge of collapse every step. Once he had her settled in the co-pilot's chair, strapped in with a regular belt to make sure she wouldn't fall off, Icheb ran a quick systems check before punching in the flight plan back to Voyager. Somehow, he wasn't surprised that the navigational computer was already set up for the trip. Icheb thought of Tom as a very efficient field medic, but when it came to piloting, he had no peer on Voyager.
Once they were on their way, Icheb remembered Tom's instructions to make sure Marla didn't fall asleep just in time when he called out her name just as Marla's head was nodding down to her chin. Talk to her . . . but about what? Did it really matter?
"Ensign Gilmore? Are you awake?"
"More or less," she mumbled.
That wasn't a promising subject for conversation, Icheb realized, when she didn't elaborate further. He started to ask her about her years at Starfleet Academy but hesitated when he recalled the Equinox crew didn't seem to like to speak about their past experiences much, the way the other crew did. Even the Maquis, who sometimes had some violent and sad stories to tell, would reminisce for hours about happy times on their lost colonies. What could he say to her that would engage her attention?
"Ensign Gilmore . . . "
"Call me Marla."
Icheb glanced over at her. "Marla, may I ask your advice about something?"
Her head was slumped to one side in the seat. She blinked her eyes rapidly several times as if to clear her vision, but she answered, "Sure. Don't know if it's worth anything."
"I am sure it would be. I've been dating Naomi Wildman . . . of course, you already know that. I guess I'm babbling, aren't I?"
"That's okay. My head is babbling to me, too, when it isn't pounding like a drum," she admitted. "I probably won't remember much later, so ask me anything. Your secrets are safe with me."
Icheb wasn't sure how much she might remember, but finally he decided it didn't matter anyway. He just had to keep talking to her and, from what he'd seen downstairs, he had to keep her answering him back so that he knew she hadn't lost consciousness. "Have you ever talked about getting married to anyone?"
"Sort of. Harry talks about it . . . I don't, not much. I think."
"Naomi talks about it all the time. She wants to get married, but I'm not sure if we should. I love her, but there's a lot to being married. It can mean having a baby, like Lieutenant Torres and Lieutenant Paris, to take care of and to raise. I'm not ready for that yet. Ensign Wildman thinks we aren't. Naomi is very young, no matter what she thinks, and I am, too. Neither of us has ever had a chance to date anyone else, either. How is anybody sure they've met the right person when . . . "
Once Icheb started talking, words spilled out over themselves as repeated all the pros and cons of his relationship with Naomi. From time to time Marla murmured short replies to his increasingly rhetorical questions. Icheb had followed orders and kept her awake for the forty minutes it took for him to fly the Delta Flyer back to Voyager, but later, Icheb had to admit that what she'd actually said barely had registered.
As they were making their final approach to Voyager's landing site, the comm system crackled: ::::EMH calling the Delta Flyer::::
"Yes, Doctor?"
::::Icheb, is that you at the helm? Where is Lieutenant Paris?::::
"He's with Lieutenant Torres. She'd having her baby."
::::Not before I get there! Patch me through to . . .:::: The cry of a newborn interrupted the Doctor's demand.
::::Never mind. Just beam me aboard when you get here.::::
=/\=
"Here she is! Oh, B'Elanna, look at her! She's beautiful! Just like you!"
B'Elanna collapsed back upon the biobed as Tom placed the wailing baby upon her stomach. B'Elanna steadied the baby for Tom as he quickly and efficiently tied off and cut the cord connecting them. "And then there were two," Tom proclaimed.
For a brief moment his eyes met B'Elanna's. As romantic looks went, it wasn't exactly up to their normal standards, but as the first moment they were a family, it was one of the most memorable they ever shared. The moment lasted only for a few seconds. Tom quickly produced a blanket and swaddled his daughter before presenting her to B'Elanna. "See? It happened very quickly once Miral made her mind up to be born. Just like the Doc and I said."
"You know, if I weren't so exhausted from having a baby, I'd probably break a bone or two of yours for rubbing it in."
"Just as long as it's a clavicle or two," Tom purred, as he floated a blanket over B'Elanna. "I know how to fix those."
B'Elanna didn't have a chance to reply. She felt the Delta Flyer touch down, just as Tom bent down to kiss his new daughter's forehead ridges before sharing a soft kiss with B'Elanna. Their lips were still touching when a waspish voice intruded.
"I see, I've managed to miss all the fun, as usual!" the Doctor harrumphed. "What a family! Not a cooperative bone in any of your bodies. Miral Torres Paris, you were supposed to wait to be born until you were back at Voyager and I could deliver you! I suppose you'll be fighting me every inch of the way, too, when it comes to conforming to doctor's orders."
"Ah, stow it, Doc. She's an angel. Admit it."
The Doctor's probe whirred quietly as he moved it over B'Elanna and Miral. "And a very healthy angel at that. Mother and baby are doing just fine. Good work, Mister Paris."
"All he did was catch her! I did all of the work!" B'Elanna huffed.
"You most certainly did, B'Elanna! I never meant to imply otherwise . . . Let me just convey my sincere good wishes to your entire family," the Doctor said, all bantering put aside as he offered his congratulations to them.
"Our entire family. That has a nice ring to it," B'Elanna agreed.
"Well, then, where are my other patients? Ms. Gilmore is upstairs on the flight deck, I presume, along with Icheb and his bad ankle?"
"No, I'm right here, thanks to Icheb," Marla said, as she moved into the room with Icheb's assistance. "B'Elanna, your baby is gorgeous," Marla gushed. As Marla and B'Elanna rhapsodized over Miral's perfection, the Doctor surreptitiously took out his probe and waved it over Marla, clucking over his findings, although a small smile never left his lips.
"Congratulations, Tom," Icheb said, as the pilot moved away from the increasingly crowded area of the biobed.
"Thanks, Icheb. Nice job getting us back here. Icheb, is anything on your mind? You look a little distracted."
Icheb shrugged. "I know you're too busy to talk now, because of your family."
"I'll never be too busy to talk things out with you, Icheb."
The young man smiled at him, prompting Tom to add something he'd been thinking about saying for a while, but had never had a chance to before. "I think the Doctor is about to kick us all out so he can examine my family anyway, so let's go back up to the flight deck. I'll check that wrap on your ankle, and there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about for quite a while now . . ."
=/\=
"Oh, Mom, he doesn't love me any more. What am I going to do?" Naomi wailed disconsolately, kneeling next to her mother, her head upon Samantha's lap.
"Honey, I don't think Icheb told you he didn't love you," Sam said quietly, rubbing circles on her daughter's back the way she used to whenever she had a "boo-boo." This one, of the heart, would be much harder for her daughter to bear, she knew.
"He doesn't want to marry me!"
"But look at his reasons, Naomi, and I'm sorry, but I have to agree with him on every one of them. Even for a Ktarian, you're very young to make such an important choice in life. Especially for Ktarians, who mate for life. Your father's family was very unhappy when he told them he was going to marry me. They see humans as being too flighty for a life match with a Ktarian. We don't take marriage seriously enough for them It wasn't easy for him to stick up for me when he made his decision."
"They finally came around, didn't they?"
"Yes, they did, and from his letters, I know they're relieved that the way things turned out. Despite our long separation, I've been faithful to him, and he to me. And I always will be, Naomi, because I made that choice with my eyes wide open. No other husband, Naomi, not even if your father dies--that's what a Ktarian life mating means. You understand that your father and I hoped you would want to adhere to that tradition when you marry, don't you? Do you really think you can be so sure, when you've had no experience with any other boy than Icheb, that he's the one you'd be willing to live your life alone for, if you had to? No matter what?"
"How can anyone know that, ever? It's amazing Ktarians ever get married at all!"
"Well, you can be that sure about someone, and Ktarians do get married, all the time."
"Still, he doesn't love me the way I love him."
Sam considered her next words carefully; she knew Naomi would hold her to them forever. Finally, she decided to go ahead. In her gut, she knew she was right about Icheb.
"Honey, Icheb came to me right after he talked to you, to explain. He loves you very much, and wants to be your boyfriend, but he thinks anything more wouldn't be right for you. It troubles him that you've never had a chance to date anyone else but him and he wants you to be sure he's the one you want to spend your life with. He admitted that he might feel differently if we still expected Voyager to take another twenty years to reach home, but if we get to use the slipstream drive and it works the way we think it will, he knows we could be home in a year. He's studied Ktarian culture and understand what is expected of him by marrying you. Icheb knows he risks losing you by waiting, but he doesn't ever want you to regret your choice."
"I won't regret it, Mom!"
'Ah, to be so young,' Sam thought, but she said, "If you really are meant to be together, Naomi, you still will be, even if you meet other nice people in the Alpha Quadrant. Icheb isn't saying he doesn't love you or want to be with you, but just that you need to wait, to be sure, before making a commitment like this."
"Maybe it means he just wants to be free to date other people when we get back to the Alpha Quadrant!"
"I can't say that isn't true, but I really don't think that's why he's made this decision. Just think, Naomi--you have a family, and he doesn't. He'd have one if he married you, but he cares more about your happiness, I believe, than he does his own. The way I see it, that means he truly loves you. You asked me before how someone can promise herself to one person for her entire life, in a Ktarian life-mating. That's how, Naomi."
"And if we never get Voyager off New Hope? What then?"
"Naomi, you know we all expect to get Voyager off New Hope, but if we can't, that would be different. But even then, waiting a while before an engagement and marriage would still be wise. You are awfully young, Naomi, and so is he. He understands the responsibility of being a husband--and maybe a father, like Tom--would be on someone just starting out in life. I have to say I respect Icheb more now than I ever did, because he really has thought this through. You know, if things do work out between you someday, I could do a lot worse for a son-in-law!"
"Oh, Mom, but I love him so much!"
"Then love him enough, Naomi, to be as considerate of his welfare as he's being about yours."
Naomi began to sob quietly while Sam did her best to comfort her. When her crying ceased, she remained curled up on the floor, leaning against her mother's knee, thinking her own thoughts. Finally, Naomi raised her red and swollen eyes to her mother's face and, with the barest of nods, accepted her mother's wisdom--and Icheb's.
=/\=
When Marla heard that the Sacajawea's ETA was at 0500 hours, she arranged to be off duty and waiting in the shuttle bay as patiently as she could by 0445.
"Wow, you're up early!" Harry called to her as he stepped out of the shuttle, two steps behind Commander Chakotay.
"I thought you might enjoy a welcoming committee--even if it's only me," she answered.
"I do. How's that noggin of yours?" Harry asked as he approached.
She laughed and patted his arm when he came within reach.
"Angelo and Noah are threatening to make me wear a helmet whenever I'm on an away mission now, but I'm fine, really."
"Glad to hear it," Harry replied. Turning to Chakotay, he asked, "Commander, is there anything else before I go?"
"No, Harry. I'm to report to the captain at 0600. I'll have time to take care of things here," Chakotay said. "You're dismissed. Enjoy yourself."
Marla didn't miss the sparkle in the first officer's eye, or the quick appearance and disappearance of his dimples. She didn't really care; she'd have to get used to it, if things went the way she wanted them to.
Tucking her arm underneath his elbow, she steered Harry out the corridor and pointed him towards the turbolift.
"Do you want to stop at the mess hall for breakfast?" Harry asked.
"I'd be just as happy with something from the replicator in your quarters, actually," Marla said.
Harry gave her a long look. "That's a change."
She took a deep breath and, since the corridor was deserted, took the plunge. "I've had a chance to think about some things, and yes, there's been a change."
Harry stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her, waiting. She'd expected to tell him this once they got to his quarters, but she couldn't wait that long.
"Harry, after I had the concussion at Tall Girl Mountain, Icheb was told to talk to me to keep me awake when we were coming back here on the Delta Flyer. He spilled out how he felt about Naomi, and all about how he loved her, but he was too young to think about making a commitment to another person for the rest of his life.
"It's funny, I guess, but when I was lying in sickbay came back from on the Delta Flyer, I thought about the same sorts of things, but I'm not a young kid any more, and I came to a different conclusion than Icheb about everything. Whenever you've asked me The Question, Harry, I said no because I know how much your Starfleet career means to you, and being involved with one of the Equinox Five . . ."
"Marla, don't worry about that. It doesn't matter to me."
"It does matter, Harry, but I love you. I've been worrying about what life is going to be like when we get back home, but after getting myself knocked out again, I realized that who knows if I'm even going to get home in one piece? Why should I deny myself a little happiness because of a past that I wish I could change, but can't, no matter how hard I try?"
"Marla . . ."
"Harry, let me finish, because I'm not sure I'll ever be able to say this again. I'm not going to make any promises to you about a life commitment, or ask you for any, either. I'm not a Ktarian, like Naomi. I don't think we're going to have a future together, Harry--not like the one I wish we could have. But who knows? What I expect might not happen--maybe it will be okay, like you think. But whatever my future might be, Harry, I'll face it when it comes. I'm not going to put the rest of my life on hold just because of some tomorrow that may never come."
"Marla, I love you so much. I'll stand by you no matter . . ."
"Hush, Harry. Don't say any more. Just ask me The Question again, because this time I'll have another answer--for as long as it lasts. That's all I can promise you, Harry. I hope it's enough."
"Why should I ask The Question again, when you've already given me The Answer?"
She threw her arms around Harry and kissed him, not caring who might come by to see them.
And Harry kissed her back, promising himself that no matter what the future held, they would face it together.
Epilogue
Captain's Log, Stardate 54939.3
Chakotay and Harry Kim returned home today from their mission. The representatives of the United Grevel-Ash-Gunruth'u-Minenne-Vordai Assembly, as they are calling their infant confederation, have agreed to allow Voyager to mine sufficient kolonder ore to make their slipstream drive work--but only sufficient, and no more. Mr. Carey and the rest of the engineering staff have begun work on the new drive's construction, while two dozen members of our crew have already begun operations at the mining camp at Tall Girl Mountain. We hope we can obtain all the kolonder ore needed for our trip home and restore the environment of the area to its natural state, as nearly as possible, within the next month.
"Anything else I should add, Commander?"
Chakotay shook his head. "I think that about covers it."
"I'm a little surprised they were so accommodating, given their attitude when we first arrived here."
"I think they realize that expecting us to repair our ship and get off New Hope without taking any materials at all from the planet was unrealistic. And the Gunruth'u view us as a 'destabilizing influence,' according to a couple of the Vordai representatives I spoke with."
"I wonder why the Gunruth'u might think that?" Kathryn said, in mock innocence.
"I can't imagine," Chakotay said, grinning.
"I guess they'll be very happy to see our backs, then."
"There's something else. From some of the questions I was asked by a committee of warp propulsion experts, I think it's safe to say that they have more understanding of the properties and potential of kolonder ore than they've been willing to let on officially. I don't think it's a Prime Directive violation to have discussed this technology with them. They really want to get us off New Hope so they can get their hands on the kolonder ore themselves, for their own experiments."
"I'll be very happy to leave them to their experiments!"
"Me, too." He paused, then added softly, "It's good to be back home, Kathryn."
At that moment, the respect, admiration, and friendship for this man welled up into a desire for so much more. Thanks to the Gunruth'u, she no longer had to imagine what she was missing; she had only to remember it. For so long, she'd ignored a large part of her life, telling herself it was for the good of all. For the past few days, however, she'd longed to speak with him, laugh with him, and confide in him. Starfleet discipline can only replace so much of one's life.
Since she still believed in that discipline, however, Kathryn said only, "It's good to have you back, too."
Next week: Prixin has become Voyager's special holiday, but as this year comes to an end, they are still in the Delta Quadrant and planet bound.
Prixin is a time of reflection.
And Change...