Balance & Imbalance, Part 1

SUMMARY: Another in the ongoing series of “Connect the P/T Dots” stories, set during the episode “Blood Fever.” B’Elanna has never felt better in her life; so what’s wrong with everyone else? This chapter is subtitled, “My Girlfriend Went to Sakari IV and All I Got Was this Lousy Bite Mark.”

TIMELINE & SPOILERS: “Blood Fever”

RATING: R (for language as well as sexual content)

CODES: P/T

DISCLAIMER: Lisa Klink wrote “Blood Fever,” but then you knew that, didn’t you? For reasons that are probably obvious to all P/T fans, this one is a kind of novelization with a twist. The story is hers; the twists are mine. Paramount owns everything else.

NOTE: You may wonder if, after about 500 “Blood Fever” stories on the net, can anyone have anything new to offer? Perhaps not. But that didn’t stop me from trying. However, if you don’t like mine, let me point you to the Paris/Torres Collective Archive, home of the best P/T fanfic on the net. I am sure you’ll find one there that suits your taste. If not, write one of your own then email it to me. I always love reading new P/T.

The bar was dark and smoky, and filled with misfits from most of the major Federation races. Humans and Hakarians, Bajorans and Bolians. There was even a lone Klingon woman in some kind of intense conversation with a young Vulcan man—which seemed strange, even if she couldn’t figure out exactly why. They were all looking for a place to forget their troubles, she supposed. A tall order, considering the times.

But she didn’t care. After months of living on scavenged leftovers and ration packs, she was starving and wanted nothing more than to eat a real dinner and get to bed. Where the hell was their food?

She was sitting with Seska and Jonas, when she saw him come through the door: their new ‘recruit.’ He was tall and handsome and had been giving her the eye for days. But he had ‘troublemaker’ written all over him, and that was the last thing she needed. Of course, the Liberty was a ship full of troublemakers of one kind or another, but at least the rest of them were in trouble in service to a cause. This fair-haired boy, though...he was a mercenary. Maquis in name only.

Her pulse quickened when she saw him, and out of nowhere, she could hear Chakotay’s voice. ‘Stay away from him, B’Elanna.’ She wasn’t surprised. The man was a drunk and a liar, and his loyalty was up for grabs to the highest bidder. He was a reckless pig with a reputation for chasing—and catching—anything with breasts.

But he was the best pilot any of them had ever seen.

As if transported back there by the thought, she instantly found herself in the Liberty’s shuttlebay at the moment when she first saw him. He smelled like liquor and unwashed socks, and he eyed her up one side and down the other as she yelled at Mario. She was furious about...something... She couldn’t remember what. But seeing him walking toward her with Chakotay distracted her. And she knew she’d need to give this one a wide berth....

Suddenly she was at her station on the bridge alongside him. It was close quarters; she practically had to sit on his lap. That was when she’d first noticed it: another scent. Musky and masculine. One that didn’t wash off when he showered. It intoxicated her.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and found herself back in the bar. Staring at him. But she could still smell his sweet scent from across the room.

Before her brain could get her body’s attention, he was standing there, looking right at her. “Dance with me, Torres?”

Dance? Was that some kind of euphemism? ‘No,’ she thought. “Sure,” she said.

In an instant, he was holding her hand, dragging her to her feet.

There wasn’t even a dance floor—just a space with no tables in front of the fireplace. He twirled her once before pulling her against him. Was there even music playing? She couldn’t hear anything. Only the sound of her heartbeat. It was counting out a rhythm in double-time, two beats for every movement of their feet.

She felt his hands slip around her waist before they wound their way down her back. Then she felt him caress her ass gently as they swayed to the music. What the hell did he think he was doing? Who did he think he was? She was no man’s comfort station.

Yet she didn’t push him away.

Then her mind began another journey, a mental tour of his body. She pictured the way he looked in those brown suede pants, chronicled the changing hue of his blue eyes, and imagined running her hands across the wisps of chest hair she could see peeking out of the v-neck shirt he was wearing.

Her arms encircled his neck—her face buried itself in his chest—as she fell under the spell of some hypnotic rhythm. Whether it was the way his breath was warming her hair, or the feel of his knee between her legs as they swayed against each other, she was overwhelmed by a powerful desire to kiss him, right there in the bar in front of everyone. He must have felt the same way, for she could feel him pressing against her, his quickening heartbeat pounding through his chest where she rested her head.

She looked up in time to see his face leaning down toward hers. She smiled just before their lips met. He tasted sweet and spicy and warm. She was sure, then, that she wanted to own those lips. To make them hers—exclusively—forever.

He starting taking slow steps as they kissed, picking up his pace until he finally pinned her against the far wall of the bar. What had started off so gentle had quickly turned rough as she heard him grunting and growling with each taste of her. “tagha’” he groaned. “qawIv.”

“Paris,” she forced herself to mutter as she pulled away from his lips. Did he realize what that meant?

“qawIv,” he repeated, this time more forcefully. “I choose you.”

How could he choose her? He barely knew her. She wondered if he understood the significance of what he was saying...or if he’d just memorized a few words and phrases to try and impress the Klingon girl. Get her into his bed.

But that’s exactly where she wanted to be.

She remembered, then, that she was starving. Like she hadn’t eaten in months. Yet, when she tried to think of what she was hungry for, the only answer that came to her mind...was him....

~~*~~

Maybe it was the exhilaration of seeing Vorik hit the deck the night before, but B’Elanna was feeling pumped, energized, and ready to get on with her mission. She was so excited, so anxious to get going that she actually woke up before her alarm sounded. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

She did have a vague memory of a strange dream, however. She couldn’t recall any of the details, yet she woke up famished. Craving something she couldn’t name. Other than her uncontrollable appetite, though, she felt...wonderful.

She was surprised. For all intents and purposes, she’d been assaulted by a member of her own staff a few hours earlier—and with almost no warning or time to prepare. Not that he’d hurt her—Vorik only held her face in his hands. But the look in his eyes was feral, wild. And for a moment, she thought she could hear him saying something to her in Vulcan. Odd, since she could see his face the whole time, and knew, for certain, that he hadn’t actually spoken. She’d felt a surge of adrenaline at the same time, and used it to fight him off. The Doctor said she dislocated the ensign’s jaw. Hell, she’d wanted to do a lot more than that.

Part of her realized that she’d narrowly avoided a more serious assault. She’d been lucky. And it was the rare occasion when Torres felt grateful for the Klingon half of her genetics. But—in those moments when she was called upon to defend herself from a physical attack—she knew her mother’s heritage gave her strength and reflexes her petite frame wouldn’t have allowed in a purely human woman. Even a taller, more substantial human—male or female—would have found it next to impossible to fight off a love-sick Vulcan. Yet she’d downed him with one punch.

And what in the hell was that about?! Why—out of the blue—was Vorik proposing marriage, talking about what compatible mates they would make, and then grabbing her face like that? Maybe something about the Nekrid Expanse made Vulcans go batty. Whatever it was, B’Elanna was damned if he was coming back to work until she found out what was wrong with him and had some guarantee that it wouldn’t happen again.

Not that it mattered at the moment. She’d been put in charge of her first major away mission, and there was too much work to do to worry about Vorik. Their job was simple: map the gallicite deposits, collect samples from the different veins, and bring them back for analysis. If the mineral proved to be as pure as their scans suggested, a larger geological team would be sent down to mine the ore. Then in a week or so, if everything went according to schedule, they’d have brand new warp coils.

The thought of finally getting her engines back in pristine order left B’Elanna feeling a real sense of control over her life for the first time in years.

After finishing her sonic shower, she replicated and stepped into her climbing uniform, then walked back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. At first, she dragged a brush quickly through her hair, in a hurry to get dressed and get out the door. But when she felt the bristles against her skin, she realized that her entire scalp was starting to tingle. It was a strange—and compelling—sensation, and she found herself standing there for a few moments enjoying the feeling as she brushed and brushed her already tamed hair.

Soon, she realized she was losing track of time, as if her mind had wandered, but she wasn’t sure to where. Berating herself for not getting enough sleep the night before such an important mission, B’Elanna grabbed her empty knapsack and headed down to engineering to give her final orders and grab the equipment she’d need for the survey. Despite her lapse in concentration, her body was pumped up and raring to go. There was a bounce in her step as she headed into the corridor and to the turbolift.

0500 came too quickly, and Tom had to force himself out of bed. Part of him wondered if B’Elanna’s late-night visit to his cabin had been his imagination, but when he saw Chakotay’s approval for the replication of an all-terrain uniform in his personal database, he knew it must be true.

So, she wanted him on her survey team. Good. He only wished he had more time to review the plan for the climb. Of course, he wasn’t looking forward to spending the day with Vorik. Neelix had mentioned at dinner the night before that he and the Vulcan would be going planetside with B’Elanna this morning. Tom had confessed to his friend, then, that there was no love lost between him and the ensign. He didn’t go into the details of why—he would have had to explain some things that were better left unsaid—and Neelix was sensitive enough not to pry. Now, all four of them would be working closely together on what might be a dangerous mission. Well, maybe they’d get lucky and Vorik would take a header into a bottomless pit...

Tom didn’t really mean it—even though he enjoyed the fantasy for a second. No, Vorik wasn’t to blame for the sorry state of his love life. The man was merely a means to an end, he knew. B’Elanna’s means to end Paris’s fantasies about being more than just her friend.

This was not the mindset to be in before a day of scaling cliffs together, Tom reminded himself. He focused on getting dressed and reviewed in his mind the equipment they’d need for the climb.

He pulled the jumpsuit out of the replicator and stepped into it. He hadn’t worn this kind of special-issue uniform since his Academy training, and he had forgotten how tight the things were. And, while it moved freely with his body, the silver fabric clung to him like a second skin. As he pulled on the matching boots, he realized that B’Elanna would be wearing her own version of this outfit.

Well, at least his imagination might get some action, he thought, immediately dismissing the fantasy. He was going to have to get over her, he knew. Someday. Soon. But not today.

~*~*~*~*~

B’Elanna’s stop in engineering had been brief. Sue Nicoletti would be filling in for her while Torres was on the planet, and—with Vorik under confinement—the alpha shift would be two men down. Not that it mattered much; there wasn’t much to do without that gallicite. The real work would begin when she got back.

Tom and Neelix were already waiting for her in the transporter room when she arrived. Paris was bending over the stairs to the pad, checking over his equipment, and, for a split second, B’Elanna allowed herself to do the same...and she definitely liked the view. Somehow, the sight of him in that skin-tight silver climbing suit...her pulse started racing uncontrollably.

“You two are very prompt,” she said, repressing the urge to stand for a few more minutes admiring his ass.

“Impressed?” Tom asked as he stood up and faced her, giving her a totally new and equally captivating view.

“It will take more work than that to impress me, Lieutenant,” she lied before moving to the transporter console. Truth was, she was more than impressed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered in a tone she found strangely exciting. Unfortunately, there was no time to think about the things her body suddenly wanted to do, particularly after he’d moved to stand next to her. He smelled of soap and spices and a hint of sweat. He smelled like Tom.

No matter: they were on a mission and these digressions would have to wait. This would be their last chance to use the ship’s targeting scanners to plan their descent, and B’Elanna wanted to make sure they were all on the same page about the route they would take.

“Let me show you our target area,” she said, as she called up the sensor maps on the display screen.

Neelix seemed a little confused. “Shouldn’t we wait for Ensign Vorik?”

Vorik. Not likely. “He’s not coming,” B’Elanna barked without explanation before continuing her briefing. “This seems to be the most accessible vein of gallicite. We’ll beam to the surface then go down through this passageway until it dead-ends in this chamber. Then we’ll descend almost fifty meters—almost straight down. Do you see any problem with that, Tom?”

It seemed like forever before he answered her. “Uh, well...as long as we go slow and easy, we’ll be fine.”

Why did everyone else seem to be talking in slow-motion this morning?

“Good,” she answered, trying to keep things moving with her tone. “You’re all set, Neelix?”

“I’ve got a laser drill, sample cases, geo-spectral analysis kit...” He seemed to think her question was an invitation to list the contents of his knapsack. B’Elanna tried not to get annoyed with him. Neelix was hardly a seasoned Starfleet crewman; she knew he got a little anxious on away missions.

Still, they were wasting valuable time. “In other words, you’re ready,” she said, putting an end to his inventory. “Let’s go!”

She made a quick check of their transport coordinates and headed for the pad, already wondering if she wouldn’t have to light a fire under her two pokey charges, who seemed to be taking their time getting into position. The men had barely set foot on the platform when she called out her instructions to the computer. “Energize,” she said, before watching the transporter room dematerialize before her eyes.

Tom watched as the dimly lit transporter room dissolved into the early morning sunlight of a lush, green clearing. He was glad that Voyager’s artificially marked ‘sunrise’ seemed to match the hour on the planet; it was always so disorienting to see sunshine at night or to watch the stars above him in the middle of the afternoon. His body preferred to have its surroundings match his circadian rhythms.

It was good, too, just to breathe in fresh air. He caught a whiff of damp soil and wildflowers, and wished that they’d come for a picnic or shore leave instead of spelunking. It seemed a shame to spend this beautiful morning underground. Particularly considering the company.

Away missions were always more fun with Neelix along. His unconventional view of the world, combined with his eagerness to prove himself, only made him more endearing than usual. And, of course—even if things were less than ideal between them—working side by side with B’Elanna beat just about any other way he could think of to spend a duty shift.

Assuming the woman leading this mission was B’Elanna. He wondered, actually, if some perky imposter hadn’t snuck aboard, pretending to be Voyager’s chief engineer. After all, it was barely 0610, and she was a bundle of energy. He wasn’t sure there was enough raktajino in the galaxy to make B’Elanna Torres this lively before noon. She didn’t sound like B’Elanna, either. She sounded like...it was strange. Her voice reminded him of someone else. It was familiar, someone he’d met before. But it wasn’t her. He struggled to place the memory, but it wouldn’t come.

Still, she looked like B’Elanna. She looked like B’Elanna in a tight silver uniform.

He knew that one day he was going to have to stop fantasizing about her if he was ever going to get over his one-sided attraction.

“This way,” she said as she began to lead them off toward the entrance to the caves.

“Look over here.” Neelix said, drawing their attention to the stone ruins of what looked like an abandoned city. “This must have been the colony.”

Tom pulled out his tricorder and joined his friend’s survey of what little remained. What appeared to have once been large pillars were shorn off at the base, and all that was left were the inlaid stone pavers and a set of steps that now led to nowhere. Something was strange, though. The ruins looked to be centuries old, yet Tom’s tricorder showed that they were considerably younger. “Not more than fifty or sixty years ago,” he said as he took another scan. “Hardly enough time for these structures to decay so badly.”

Neelix was somber, Tom noticed, no doubt imagining the fate of the people who had lived here—if this was all that was left of their city. “They must have suffered some kind of disaster,” his friend said. “Maybe an earthquake...”

Tom was thinking the same thing. Only a generation or two earlier, this had been an inhabited planet with some level of technology. Now it was a wasteland. He couldn’t help but wonder what had gone wrong.

B’Elanna, however, seemed a little annoyed that they’d stopped to check it out. “Well, we’ll send down an archeological team later on,” she said, clearly trying to get them to keep moving. “Right now we’ve got our own work to do.”

Again, Tom wondered who was this bundle of energy standing in front of him. “Are we in a rush?” he asked her.

“I just don’t see any point in wasting time,” she explained. “Unless, of course, you want to stall...to put off demonstrating your climbing ‘expertise.’”

Oh, there was no doubt about it now: that was B’Elanna. Tom hated that she knew how to get to him so easily, but there was no denying that she understood exactly which buttons to push.

“Grab your gear,” he said, brushing past her on his way to the caves. “And try to keep up.”

As he stormed off toward the tunnels, Paris’s arm brushed against B’Elanna’s chest, practically pushing her out of the way. Well, at least he was moving, she thought. But she couldn’t help but notice that her skin—where his upper arm had made contact with her breast—was now tingling in exactly the same way her scalp had in her quarters as she’d brushed her hair earlier that morning. And she’d caught another whiff of him as he passed her. It was like smelling a delicious meal cooking—after not having eaten in days. And she realized that she was starving. Only this time it wasn’t her stomach that was growling.

Soon, B’Elanna realized. Soon she’d have to tell Tom everything she’d been too afraid to say. Maybe after this mission was over. If she could wait that long.

Even though Paris’s legs were longer and he had a head start, B’Elanna overtook him and led the way into the narrow opening at the base of the rocks. This was her mission, after all, and she would lead her team.

About ten meters inside the cave, her tricorder indicated their first descent: a simple drop of about eight meters through a hole in the cavern floor. Tom leaned over to scan the opening, giving B’Elanna another chance to notice exactly how tight his climbing suit was, and the way it molded itself around his backside. She knew that she should be focusing on the mission she was leading, but—just for a moment—her thoughts were fixated on the muscles on his back, each one rippling under a whisper of silver fabric. Each one dancing in the dim light of the cave.

She started to move toward him—she couldn’t just stand still and there wasn’t room to pace in the small chamber. So, when he turned around to give his report, she was face to face with him. “There’s nothing to push off against,” he told them. “So we’ll just have to climb down the rope. I’ll go first and guide you down.”

“No!” B’Elanna said, her attention now fixed on his lips. She wondered for a moment if they would taste the way she’d imagined for so long...

It took all of her effort to force those thoughts away, and to focus on her mission. “I’ll lead the way,” she said forcefully. “After all, this is...”

“...your mission,” Tom mocked. “We know, we know.” She relaxed a little when she realized he was teasing her. “Here,” he said to Neelix. “Tie this off on that outcropping and let me know when it’s secure.”

As they waited for their mining expert to finish his little task, B’Elanna found herself staring up at Tom’s face. He moved with such confidence that she wondered why it had taken her so long to think of adding him to her away team. She also wondered why it had taken her so long to get comfortable admitting to herself something she was now more than sure of: she wanted him. She wanted to take him right there on the cavern floor and to touch with her hands and her mouth all the places that only her eyes and dreams had previously explored. She wanted to tell him about the fantasies she’d had of ravaging him—and of being ravaged by him.

But it was more than that. She wanted to tell him—and the rest of the world—that he was hers. That she’d just been a coward about showing it. That she had fallen in—

“Ready, Tom!” Neelix called, interrupting her thoughts.

B’Elanna was horrified at how hard she was finding it to concentrate on the tasks at hand. So much was riding on this survey. Everyone was counting on her. This was no time to let her mind wander. She needed to focus. Focus...

“After you, Lieutenant,” Tom said a little sarcastically. He was playing with her now, she knew, but she couldn’t let herself respond in kind. She needed to pay attention to her duty.

“Make it quick,” she said, trying not to look at him. Then she grabbed the rope and slipped herself over the edge.

All joking aside, Tom began to wonder if it was his imagination or if something was different about B’Elanna this morning. He’d had a fitful night of sleep, he knew, and she couldn’t have gotten much more rest than he did. Maybe she got edgy when she was overtired, he supposed. Or maybe his own sleepy mind was overreacting this morning.

Still, for the first time in years he wondered if maybe he didn’t know Torres as well as he thought he did.

He watched as she slipped over the edge of the opening and began to lower herself down the rope. He could hear her panting and grunting—though a simple rope climb shouldn’t be taking that much out of her. Maybe she was sick, he thought. Maybe that explained the weird way she was acting.

‘You’re next, Paris!’ he heard B’Elanna yell up to him, her voice echoing in the chamber below. ‘Paris,’ he thought to himself. She hadn’t called him that in ages. No doubt another part of her plan to let him down easy.

“You okay, Neelix?” he asked before he lowered himself over the side.

“I’m right behind you, Tom,” his friend answered, looking a little less than convinced. “I just realized I should start taking the Jeffries Tubes instead of the turbolift if I’m going to go rock climbing with you two. I’m not quite in fighting form.”

Tom laughed. “Well, then you’re fine, since I don’t plan to do any fighting today.”

‘Are you two coming?’ he heard from below him. ‘Or do I have to shimmy up this rope and carry you down?’

He looked at Neelix and smiled. “I can’t speak for her, though,” he said before lowering himself into the opening. “See you there.”

Tom wrapped his knees around the rope and lowered himself hand over hand. He felt the line pull taut and knew that B’Elanna was trying to steady his descent. As he neared the bottom, he felt her hands reach up to guide him, first grabbing his ankle, then sliding slowly up his leg and finally grabbing onto his butt as she helped him lower himself to the ground.

It was a totally normal move for one climber to aid another. Yet, he was almost sure that she’d let her hands wander a little more than ‘normal’ spotting called for. In fact, he was pretty positive she’d felt him up a little as he lowered himself into her waiting arms.

That was silly, he realized. Wishful thinking.

Still, they had to repeat their little free climb again, with B’Elanna once more leading the way, her hands once more conducting their own little exploration—of his butt. This time, Tom decided that he didn’t care if he was imagining things or not. He’d just enjoy the feel of her hands on his body and move on—all the while praying that his reaction to her touch wasn’t obvious in his tight climbing uniform.

His feet made contact with the floor, then he gave the rope a tug and waited for Neelix. “No matter how real a holodeck program may seem,” his friend was saying as he descended, “it just doesn’t get your heart pumping like a genuine physical challenge. It’s exhilarating.”

Tom laughed at the way Neelix was reframing his fears about being out of shape. But two steps into the outer chamber gave Paris a few fears of his own.

“If you’re looking for exhilaration...” B’Elanna let her voice trail off, as they all leaned over to get a glimpse of what appeared to be a vast bottomless cavern before them. They knew from their readings that there was a bottom, however. Fifty meters below.

Even in the dim light, Neelix looked a little green. “It didn’t look quite so steep on the sensor map, did it..?”

B’Elanna, on the other hand, seemed raring to go. She stripped off her pack and began to pull out her gear. “We’re prepared for this. We can handle it.”

Tom knew she was right, but—while the mission was B’Elanna’s responsibility—ensuring a safe climb was his. He was experienced enough to know that preparation and training only went so far; there was an element of luck involved in doing anything dangerous. It was his job to see that they were lucky. And this time, no matter what B’Elanna said, he’d insist on going first.

As he unpacked his own gear, Paris made sure to watch Neelix’s preparations. Their chef was an experienced miner, but a novice rock-climber, and Tom wanted to make sure he followed the safety procedures to the letter.

“All this Starfleet technology almost takes the fun out of it,” Neelix quipped as he drove his piton into the rock. Tom watched as his friend clipped his rope onto the bolt and pulled to make sure it grabbed.

“If you mean the ‘fun’ of wondering whether your anchor will hold while you’re dangling over a cliff,” Paris said as he secured his own rope, “I think I’ll pass.” After making sure that B’Elanna and Neelix were set and ready (and hearing no objection from the woman in charge of their little expedition), Tom braced his feet against the edge of the outcropping and prepared to lead the way. “See you below.”

For a moment, just after they’d begun, B’Elanna had felt herself starting to fade. She had been losing her concentration, allowing thoughts of Tom to drift into her mind, her attention wandering from the mission before them. But here, on the top of a sheer fifty-meter drop, she could sense her mind hyper-focus on the task at hand. She’d been anxious for this all morning, she knew. The first real physical challenge of her first real command.

“You go first,” she said to Neelix when he was set. “I’ll follow you.”

They’d barely stepped over the edge when she heard Tom call out from below them, his voice echoing all around her. “Watch your footing!” he was yelling. Just hearing his voice made her pulse accelerate.

B’Elanna watched as Neelix started his descent, and she waited for a moment to make sure he found good purchase on the cliff face. But she was anxious to get moving, and quickly caught up with the older, slower man.

“You’re right!” she said as she stopped for a moment by his side. “My heart is beating faster!” She could feel her own pulse throbbing, not only in her chest but in her fingers, her toes...

“Wait until we climb back up with a pack full of gallicite,” Neelix quipped as he paused to check his footing.

B’Elanna wasn’t in the mood to wait for anyone or anything. “Oh, I’m just getting warmed up!” she said as she dropped another two meters at a time. She wondered in that moment if she might even beat Paris to the bottom. Maybe men were just slower, she thought, when she heard a scream from above her...

She looked up to see Neelix barreling toward her in a freefall. Instinctually, she reached out and grabbed him as he passed her, knocking the rope from her other hand as the weight of both of their bodies pulled them down. At the same time, she felt the metal buckle from his now dangling line swing down and tear at her shoulder. The pain was intense, but she managed to hold onto Neelix’s harness, the tension in her own slowing them only enough to control their speed, but not to stop them from hitting—hard.

“No!” she heard Tom cry out as they went shooting past him.

Seconds later, B’Elanna heard a crunching sound that was unmistakably cracking bone. She struggled to her feet and threw off her line, waiting for the stab of pain she knew she should be feeling. But there was no pain. Only the pounding of blood rushing through her ears. The roar was almost deafening, and with it came an anger that seemed to rise up from her toes. She’d felt this kind of impulse—this rage—before, only never so strongly. She had an overwhelming urge to hit something. Hard.

“Are you hurt?” She realized, then, that Tom had joined them at the foot of the cliff and was now standing next to her. It was everything she could do not to knock him to the ground and let him have it for what he’d done. But, no...it wasn’t his fault. It was...

“You!” she screamed at the man laying in the dirt at the base of the cliff. “You almost got us both killed!”

Neelix was making a pitiful attempt to sit up, and she realized what a pathetic excuse for a warrior he was. “I’m sorry,” he was whining at her as he tried to rise. “I don’t know what happened!”

She watched as Tom moved to tend to the useless man. “Careful! Careful, you might have broken it.” Damn right, she thought. Which was less than he deserved for his carelessness.

B’Elanna couldn’t understand how Tom could be so casual about this. And she had no compassion for Neelix. “You had no business rigging safety equipment when you had no idea what you were doing!” she bellowed. It had been a mistake to bring him, she realized. First he slowed them down, now he’d almost gotten their necks broken. She wondered why she’d ever let the captain talk her into...

“Calm down!” Tom was yelling back at her. “This wasn’t Neelix’s fault. I saw him drive the piton and it was solid. It must have malfunctioned.” Why was Paris making excuses for him? Why was he on Neelix’s side in this? “Oh, you are hurt...” he said as he moved back to her. He grabbed her by the arms, and flames seemed to shoot through her at the point of his touch.

But she didn’t need him—or anyone else—to make her feel better. She didn’t want to feel better. She’d earned her rage; her entire mission was in jeopardy now. “I’m fine, no thanks to you two,” she said as she wriggled out of his hands. “I would have been better coming down here alone!”

Tom blocked her path as she tried to go. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little bit?” he asked. Overreacting? Somehow she didn’t think he’d feel that way if he’d been the one knocked off the side of a cliff.

She realized, too, that now they’d have to wait for medical help to come and cart Neelix back to the ship. Her command—her first real command—was falling apart around her. Well, it wasn’t her fault the man had been too careless to secure his rope properly. And there was no way she was about to waste this opportunity to get what they came for. “Just drag him to the ship,” she barked to Tom as she picked up her pack. “I’ll get the gallicite myself!”

“We can’t leave you down here alone!” Neelix had the audacity to challenge her.

“He’s right,” she heard Tom say as he moved to block her way. He grabbed her by the shoulders again, and B’Elanna felt strange mix of anger and desire overtake her. Her blood was boiling, and she could feel her pulse racing, throbbing all over her body, and heightening each of her senses. And she could smell his scent again. Feel her body cry out for him. Was he challenging her? “Let’s contact the ship,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“You get your hands off of me,” she said, but meaning just the opposite. She wanted him—uncontrollably—and she would take him, right there. She felt a growl growing from inside her belly, and she broke his grip just enough to reach up and pull his face toward her. In one swift motion, she felt her teeth tear at his soft, smooth cheek, smelled the sweat of his skin against hers, and tasted his blood on her tongue. Finally, after all this time of wanting him so badly, needing him so deeply, she had made her intentions clear to the world. She had marked him. He was hers.

“Aghhh! B’Elanna!” The sound of his voice shook her out of herself, and she noticed the shocked look on his face. What was the matter? Why was he so angry with her? “What is wrong with you?!” he screamed at her.

He seemed shocked, as if she’d done something wrong, and the look on his face left her flushed with embarrassment. Was he rejecting her? She saw his hand move to his cheek, the jagged impression of her teeth on his skin. A storm of conflicting emotions began raging inside her, and part of her wondered what the hell she’d just done. It was as if her mind was struggling to awaken from a deep sleep, yet her body was totally energized, invigorated. This was all so confusing.

She knew, then, that she had to get away from him. “Nothing,” she said, finally answering his question. “I’m in charge of this mission. I’ll finish it.”

Blindly, she forced herself to walk away, to get on with what they’d set out to do. If Tom didn’t want her...didn’t want to follow her, he could stay there for all she cared. But she wasn’t about to leave without the gallicite. Even if, for the moment, she couldn’t remember why she needed it...

“Wait!” Paris called as he watched her stumble away. All morning he’d felt that something was strange with B’Elanna. Now, his face throbbed with the proof.

“Go ahead, Tom,” Neelix said to him “I’ll be alright here.”

Part of him wanted to go. Part of him wanted to grab hold of B’Elanna, pin her to the ground, and demand to know what the hell was happening. But another part of him was afraid to follow her. Afraid to find out why one of his best friends had suddenly turned into a crazed Klingon warrior.

That’s when it hit him: her voice. He recognized it now. It was the voice of the Klingon B’Elanna he’d met for just a few seconds in the Vidiian laboratory. She’d spoken only a few words before she died that day. But her tone—clipped and husky—was unmistakable. And it had been this woman, the Klingon B’Elanna, that he’d been hearing all morning.

In that moment, he was sure that something more was going on. Something he probably shouldn’t try to handle alone. “The last thing we need is for all three of us to split up,” he said, trying to convince himself. Tom took one last look down the now-empty passageway before slapping his commbadge in frustration, and praying that they weren’t too deep for a signal to get through. “Paris to Voyager. We’ve got problems down here.”

‘Janeway here, Mister Paris,’ he heard his captain’s calm voice. ‘Is everything alright?’

“No, ma’am,” he answered in more than a bit of an understatement. “Neelix and B’Elanna took a fairly serious fall. I’m pretty sure Neelix’s leg is broken. He needs more help than I can give him by myself. I need you to send someone down to help me get him out of here.”

‘By yourself?’ he heard Chakotay’s confused voice. ‘Where is Lieutenant Torres?’

Tom took a deep breath before he answered. “B’Elanna...well, she was pretty upset and...she decided to go on without us.”

‘Let me speak with her,’ the captain ordered.

“Standby,” he said, hoping for just a moment that his errant friend would reappear from wherever she’d disappeared to. “Paris to Torres,” he said as he slapped his commbadge. “B’Elanna, if you can hear me, please respond.”

He waited a few seconds. Then a few seconds more. Nothing. He took out his tricorder and began scanning. There were faint Human/Klingon readings in the distance, but nothing specific or nearby.

“Captain,” he called over the still-open channel, wondering how he would explain this, “I haven’t been able to contact her. She’s either out of communications range or just not responding.”

There was a pause before he got a response. Tom could only imagine the looks that were flying back and forth on the bridge at this news. ‘Where is she now?’ Janeway asked.

He checked his tricorder one more time. “The last location I can verify is about ten meters below us.” He knew he needed to explain more, to get them to understand that something was wrong, that B’Elanna hadn’t just abandoned her team cavalierly. Still, he wasn’t sure if he could make himself say the words. “I tried to stop her from leaving, Captain, but she got very hostile and...bit me.”

The pause was even longer this time, and the voice that finally answered was Chakotay’s. ‘She bit you?’ the commander asked incredulously.

Tom had no choice but to tell them the truth. “And she seemed to be enjoying it in a...Klingon kind of way. She’s really not herself.”

‘Any luck in getting a transporter lock on them?’ he heard Janeway ask. He was disappointed when he realized that it was Alissa Lang who answered.

‘No. They’re too far beneath the surface,’ he heard the ensign say. He remembered, then, that Harry was off duty for the next two days. Damn! He hated telling anyone about B’Elanna’s bizarre behavior. At least he could trust Kim and the other regular bridge crew to be discreet. But Lang was one of B’Elanna’s junior engineers. It wouldn’t take long before news of the chief’s bizarre behavior spread all over the lower decks, he feared. Still, he couldn’t very well lie to the captain.

‘Tom, I’m sending an away team down to you,’ he heard Janeway say. ‘We’ll get Neelix out of there then go after B’Elanna. Tuvok, you’re with Chakotay.’

Good. If something really were wrong with B’Elanna, the command team could keep it as quiet as possible. Then he heard Tuvok’s voice in the background. ‘Captain, I’d like to request a short delay. I may have an explanation for Lieutenant Torres’ behavior.’

What could Tuvok possibly know about whatever was wrong with B’Elanna?

‘Vorik?’ he heard the captain ask.

‘I’m afraid so,’ was the security chief’s response. Vorik? What in the hell could Vorik have to do with this? Had he hurt her somehow? Drugged her, maybe? And why? What the hell was going on?

‘Fine,’ Janeway said solemnly. ‘Sit tight, Tom. And tell Neelix to hang in there. Help is on the way.’

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, wishing they would hurry it up. “Paris out.”

Tom walked the floor for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Part of him couldn’t believe he’d let B’Elanna just head off into the tunnels alone. He replayed the events of the morning over and over in his mind trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Finally, he realized he needed to do something more constructive than pace. He turned around to see an equally confused Talaxian lying on the ground behind him.

“Gosh, I’m really sorry about this, Tom.” How characteristic: Neelix was lying there with a femur snapped in three places and yet he was apologizing to the man whose job it had been to keep him safe.

“Don’t be silly, Neelix,” Paris said as he searched through his pack for his medkit. “It was an accident.”

“I think I jinxed us,” his friend said, his voice barely masking his pain. “I never should have joked about Starfleet technology.”

Tom couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Well, somehow, I don’t think the gods of the Federation were trying to smite you for blasphemy,” he joked. “Now sit still while I take a look at that leg.”

They were traveling light, so the kit had only the most basic supplies: a rudimentary bone knitter/dermal regenerator combination, and two hyposprays—an analgesic and a few doses of inoproveline. Hardly enough to repair the kind of fracture’s the medical tricorder showed his friend to have.

Still, a few passes of the knitter had fused Neelix’s bone into a kind of self-supporting splint, and the analgesic deadened the pain a bit until the Doc could do the job for real. When he was finished, Paris threw the tools back into the kit and slid down the wall to join his friend on the cold, hard ground. The air was freezing and the chill was more noticeable now that they weren’t moving.

The men sat in silence for a few minutes before Neelix finally spoke. “It’s Lieutenant Torres, isn’t it?” he said cryptically.

“What are you talking about?” Tom couldn’t help but ask.

His friend smiled softly. “A few weeks ago when we were working in the maintenance bay, you told me you were involved with someone. Or rather, that you wanted to be. You were talking about B’Elanna, weren’t you?”

Tom could feel the blush rising in his face—the rush of blood making his already tender cheek smart as it stung from the pressure pounding beneath it. “Why do you ask?” he tried to divert the question. That naïve, hopeful, ill-informed conversation was the last thing he wanted to think about at the moment.

“Because she clearly feels the same way. I mean, I’m surprised I didn’t see it before. But... Well, I guess congratulations are in order.”

Tom was really confused now. “Neelix, what the hell are you talking about?!”

“The mating bite,” his friend answered. “Though I have to say, I’d always assumed it was given privately...”

Tom hadn’t heard much past the words ‘mating bite.’ “Whoa, slow down,” he said, touching his face reflexively. “Do you know something about this?”

“Well, it’s my job,” Neelix said. “As morale officer. I have to learn the customs of all the different races in order to make sure I commemorate their holidays and special occasions. I was studying Klingon traditions a few weeks ago for my...”

“...Klingon breakfast buffet,” Paris said along with him. “Cold gagh at 0700, yeah, I how could I forget..?”

“Yes, well, there’s an entire chapter on Klingon rituals in that same part of the cultural database. Fascinating stuff, really. There’s the Brek’Tal, the Hegh’Bat, the Sochi, the...”

“Neelix!” Tom interrupted, “I get the idea. Now what does any of that have to do with B’Elanna biting me?” He could feel his heart start to race as he waited for the answer.

Paris saw a slight hesitation dance across the Talaxian’s features. “Well, I don’t pretend to understand all of the details, but, as I recall, when a Klingon bites you on the face, they’re...well, they’re laying claim to you. As their mate. And, as I recall, Klingons usually mate for life.”

This was still confusing. “Are you saying that B’Elanna just asked me to marry her?” It couldn’t be. She was clearly disinterested in him, and hardly in a romantic mood. In fact, she’d seemed furious just before she left them.

Neelix tilted his head. “Well, yes. And no. Technically, she was initiating a, um, sexual liaison. But, as far as I understand Klingon customs, it’s pretty much the same thing. The bite is a way of marking one’s mate. Telling everyone else, ‘hands off’...in a manner of speaking. Then, once the couple, shall we say, seals the deal physically, well...voila! They’re mates. And it’s not uncommon for the, um, ‘act’ to be preceded by an altercation of some kind. Or so I hear.”

Tom sat there for a moment taking it all in. He’d always known that Klingon society was very ritualistic, but he never knew the details. And he’d never had a reason to learn them. B’Elanna lived her life like any other human woman. Other than her temper—and her forehead—he might not have known she was a Klingon. He felt stupid, then. Unprepared. And more than a little confused.

If Neelix was right, then having sex with B’Elanna was tantamount to marrying her. At least according to Klingon tradition. Or maybe that was just if he bit her, too. Besides, she’d had other lovers, right? And she wasn’t married to any of them...as far as he knew. Still, his absolute ignorance on the subject was more than a little embarrassing considering how long he’d wanted to be with her. How often he’d dreamed of making love with her.

But, if what Neelix was saying was all true, then it only confirmed for Paris that B’Elanna was ill, or drugged, or...something. She hated her Klingon side, he knew. She would never have done something so, so...Klingon. Especially not in the middle of an away mission. And with Neelix right there, wounded on the ground. Something was definitely wrong with her. He only hoped Tuvok had found out what and why.

“Tom,” Neelix said to him softly. It was only then that he realized he hadn’t spoken in a while. “You didn’t know about this, did you?”

“Um, look, do me a favor, okay?” he asked his friend instead of answering. “Don’t mention this to anybody. About the bite, I mean, or about what it means.” Not that it mattered. He’d told everyone over an open commlink that she’d bit him. He could only pray that no one else knew enough about Klingon rituals to make the connection.

He watched as a look of understanding crossed Neelix’s eyes. “Sure. It’ll be our secret.”

Tom let his head rest in his hands for a moment as he tried to take it all in. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe it was just his imagination wandering in his sleep. He let his fingers move to trace the line of dried blood on his jaw, and winced at the still tender flesh.

Nope, he realized. He wasn’t dreaming.

‘A mating bite,’ he thought with equal parts fear and hope. He realized, in that moment, that he’d have to learn more about these Klingon rituals. Once they found B’Elanna, and got back to the ship...

~*~*~*~*~

It was so hot! For some reason, B’Elanna assumed caves would be cold, so she was amazed at the unbelievable heat the rocks seemed to be giving off. She was starting to feel like she was in an oven. Yet, strangely, the walls were cool to the touch. She wondered why she didn’t see steam as the cold stone met the obviously heated air. It didn’t make sense.

Actually, none of this day made any sense.

She’d been walking for what seemed like forever, and exhaustion was taking its toll. Her mind was getting fuzzy, and she struggled to recognize this place, to remember why she was there. It didn’t help that it was dark, and the light from her wristlamp seemed so dim. She could barely see where she was stepping.

She brought her hands up and rubbed her face, only to feel the sharp twinge of pulled skin on her upper arm. She was wounded, she realized. Wounded and alone.

As she brought her fingers up to touch her torn sleeve, she remembered where she was. She was in the caves. Her away mission. They’d been climbing and she’d been hurt. They’d been looking for...gallicite. Tom and Neelix were...where were they? They’d stayed behind. Sent her ahead. Why couldn’t she remember?

She pulled out her tricorder to try and get her bearings. A quick scan told her there was gallicite up ahead. But the passageways were confusing. She’d get lost if she wasn’t careful. And she knew, somehow, that she shouldn’t be doing this alone.

“Torres to Paris,” she said as she touched her commbadge. Nothing.

Maybe he was too far away. Maybe he’d left without her. She wondered why her mind felt so fuzzy. ‘Dammit,’ she thought as she shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘I should have gotten more sleep last night.’

It was true, she knew. She was exhausted. Barely able to keep moving. But she had to. She had to find the gallicite and complete her mission. Fighting to keep her arms and legs working, she took a few steps forward. ‘I must be coming down with something,’ she thought as she shivered. Before heading off in the direction of the readings, she made a mental note to check in with the Doctor when she got back to the ship.

It seemed to take Chakotay and Tuvok forever to get down to their position, and twice Tom almost headed off without them. But he knew he couldn’t leave Neelix alone and injured, even if it did mean B’Elanna was wandering through some pretty treacherous terrain on her own. She could take care of herself, he knew, under normal circumstances. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Something was wrong with her. And he needed to know what.

The officers finally arrived with a medical team for Neelix—and, hopefully, answers about B’Elanna. Chakotay hit the ground first, followed quickly by Tuvok. “Are you two alright?” the first officer asked.

“I’m fine, Commander,” Neelix said before Tom could answer. “Lieutenant Paris patched me up as good as new.”

“Hardly,” Tom corrected. “He’s gonna need surgery on that leg. But he’ll be fine once the Doc works his magic.”

“What about you?” Chakotay asked. The first officer looked uncomfortable and seemed to be sizing him up.

“I’m okay,” he answered honestly. “Confused as hell, but okay.”

“Tom,” Chakotay was hesitating. “You said B’Elanna bit you...”

Paris turned his face to show him the wound at the base of his jaw. The look on his senior officer’s face was one of...understanding? “Look,” Chakotay said carefully, “there’s something you should know about that kind of bite...”

Tom cut him off. “I know,” he barked, trying not to let his embarrassment show in his voice. “At least I think I know what it’s supposed to mean. What I don’t know is why she did it.”

He saw the commander turn towards the Vulcan at his side. “Tuvok will explain while I get Neelix ready for transport.” Tom got the impression that Chakotay was trying to use his professionalism to keep his feelings in check. The situation was awkward to say the least.

“So there is something wrong with her, isn’t there?” Tom asked as the Vulcan stepped closer.

“Yes,” the security chief answered, looking more uncomfortable than Tom had ever seen him. If he didn’t know better, Paris would have thought that the man was embarrassed. “Lieutenant Torres is suffering from a condition known as...pon farr.”

“Pon what?” Tom asked. This didn’t sound good.

“Pon farr,” Tuvok repeated awkwardly. “It is a condition that is part of the biology of my species.”

“Biology,” Tom repeated. “Vulcan biology. And exactly what does that have to do with B’Elanna?” This was getting more confusing by the minute.

“Every seven years,” the lieutenant continued, “Vulcans males are overtaken by an uncontrollable biological instinct, which causes a severe neurochemical imbalance in the brain. They are driven to seek out a mate in an instinctual urge to...perpetuate the race.”

Slowly the pieces were lining up. But they still made no sense. “You mean, um, reproduce. Have children?” Tom asked, still feeling a little like he used to in alien exobiology class in high school. Somehow, now, he wished he’d paid more attention.

“Yes,” Tuvok said, practically rolling his eyes.

Why the man couldn’t just spit it out. “Wait a minute,” Tom said, his anger growing exponentially. “Does this have something to do with the way Vorik has been following B’Elanna around for the past few months? Did he do something to hurt her?” The images running through his mind made Paris’s blood boil.

His heart was racing as he waited for the answer. One wrong word from Tuvok and Voyager would be down one junior engineer when they got back. Tom would beat the little asshole to a bloody pulp—with his bare hands if necessary—if he’d forced himself on her.

“Ensign Vorik did not harm Lieutenant Torres,” the Vulcan reassured him. “But he did attempt to mind-meld with her last night. She was able to resist his advances successfully...”

“She knocked him flat on his back and dislocated his jaw,” Chakotay called out without looking up from tending Neelix. Tom relaxed slightly then, knowing that B’Elanna’s ‘big brother’ knew about the situation and hadn’t killed the little weasel himself. And, as the image of Torres punching Vorik’s lights out played through his mind, Paris was also a little relieved to know that she’d been able to defend herself. But, if she had fought him off...something still didn’t make sense.

“So, this pon farr thing. It’s contagious?” Tom asked, thinking about B’Elanna’s strange behavior—and the wound on his face.

Again Tuvok rolled his eyes. “No. But there is evidence to suggest that Ensign Vorik was able to make a telepathic bond with Lieutenant Torres before she pushed him away. Such connections are necessary to prepare a Vulcan female to receive her mate. In the case of the lieutenant, the bond seems only to have activated her Klingon mating drives. She is now under the influence of her own unique version of the pon farr.”

“So,” Tom asked, still afraid to find out the answers to the twenty questions now rolling around in his mind, “B’Elanna has this, um, chemical imbalance now? And that’s what’s making her do these things?”

“Apparently,” Tuvok agreed. “Her symptoms defy any other logical explanation.”

Well, he had a point. Of course, the biggest question was still unanswered. “So, is there a cure? Will she be okay?”

Tuvok took a deep breath before he continued. “Short of some treatment the doctor may devise, there is only one way to resolve the pon farr in a Vulcan female, and that is for her to complete the act. To...take a mate.”

Tom’s head was officially spinning now. The thought of a sex-crazed Klingon woman prowling the corridors of the ship might have seemed funny if it weren’t so infuriating. And if the woman weren’t B’Elanna. “What now?” he finally asked. “What happens when we find her?”

“She will have periods of lucidity interspersed with increasingly irrational, hostile and possibly sexually aggressive behavior. Usually the symptoms begin to emerge over a period of weeks or even months. Lieutenant Torres is not Vulcan, however. And it seems that she has already begun to feel the effects after only a few hours. Considering her Klingon physiology, the imbalance could progress to its final stages in only a few days. It is difficult to estimate how soon her condition will become life-threatening.”

“Life-threatening?” What the hell did that mean, Tom wondered. “You mean, she could die from this?”

“Yes,” Tuvok’s answer was quick and unequivocal.

“And you’ve gone through it every seven years of your adult life?” Tom marveled. He had trouble picturing the stoic security chief in the middle of a runaway mating urge.

“You only need to be concerned with Lieutenant Torres’ situation,” the man scolded. A distraction for which Tom was actually quite grateful.

“Right...” he said, happy for a change of mental image, and anxious to finally get on with their search for B’Elanna. He activated his tricorder and hoped—one more time—that she’d miraculously appear on its readout. “Well, it looks like finding her won’t be easy. Scanning range is limited to about twenty meters, and even that’s not too reliable.”

Chakotay had moved back to join them. “You said she was going after the gallicite,” he reminded Tom. “So, we’ll do the same and hope it leads us to her.”

“I’m ready to go, Commander,” Neelix called to them. He was finally strapped into his harness, and Paris could just make out the two officers—Mike Ayala and Sam Wildman—who were standing at the top of the steep cliff waiting to help his friend back to Voyager. He wondered, as he watched them waiting for their signal, if they’d been able to hear any of his conversation with Tuvok through the echoing cavern. Damn, he hoped not.

Chakotay tugged on the rope, then helped support the injured man’s weight until he was out of reach above them. Then he secured his pack and led Tom and Tuvok off in search of their target: a petite engineer with raging Klingon hormones. “Let’s go,” he said with determination.

‘Finally,’ Tom thought. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, exactly who it was they would find when they located the woman they now searched for.

As they walked down the passageway where B’Elanna had disappeared almost an hour earlier, Paris thought about how strange this day had turned out. How everything he’d known to be true was turned on its head. Vorik—emotionless Vorik—had been chasing after B’Elanna, for months it seemed clear. And B’Elanna, who’d done everything except tattoo ‘go away’ on her forehead, had bitten him in what he now knew was a kind of hormonally-induced foreplay. Not to mention that this woman who hated the more volatile side of her nature was now a full-fledged, grunting Klingon. None of this made sense.

Still, when driven by some uncontrollable instinct to choose a mate, she’d chosen him. Now, deep inside him, a door that had been slammed shut again and again slowly reopened. And, despite himself and the months of rejection he had faced at her hands, Tom realized he once again felt the tiniest germ of hope.

~*~*~*~*

Sandrine’s was packed to the doors, as it always was on a Friday night. And, as always, the Maquis were gathered on one side, the Starfleet crew on the other. Her table was the only one to bridge the gulf. Though why she’d agreed to let Harry drag her here was a mystery. All she really wanted was to get something to eat and crawl into bed.

As they sat there waiting for their food to come, she saw him, leaning against the bar drinking a beer. He was talking to a Klingon woman—which struck her as strange for some reason. She thought she was the only Klingon on board. But, while he talked to this woman, he was staring at her. Staring and smiling. Like he knew some secret about her that even she didn’t know. It made her uncomfortable.

They’d been trapped in the Delta Quadrant for over three months. Three months of trying as hard as she could to focus on her work, to keep her mouth shut, and to fit in—which was tough enough with her damn temper. Starfleet didn’t take kindly to malcontents. It was one big, happy hierarchy, she knew, where discipline and the chain of command ruled.

Of course, he was totally undisciplined. Even his hair didn’t seem to want to take orders, sticking out in every direction if not forcibly tamed. Not to mention the wicked look in his eyes, or the way he would flirt with her—in front of everyone—no matter what the occasion. He’d done it before, too, back in the Maquis. Back when misfits were in the majority, and no one seemed to notice if two crew members hooked up for some mutual comfort and entertainment every now and then. Hell, Chakotay had been screwing a junior engineer, and no one thought anything of it.

Not that she’d done anything. Not with him. Not with anyone. Not since Max. Not that she hadn’t thought about it.

But they were Maquis then. Now, they were Starfleet—both of them. Though, honestly, even back on the Liberty, he’d always looked Starfleet. His hair might have been scruffy and he usually needed a shave, but he had that Fleet posture. Kept calling his cabin his quarters. Seemed a little uneasy about the way they had to steal their supplies. No, he’d led a pampered life, and she remembered wondering how and when this future admiral had fallen from grace.

Now, here they were: trapped together on a tiny ship halfway across the galaxy from any home they’d ever known. He wasn’t a traitor/prisoner. She wasn’t a spitfire rebel freedom fighter. They were senior Starfleet officers. Department heads, with responsibilities and duties and obligations.

Yet after three months she still felt like an imposter. She wondered if he did, too.

Before she knew it, he was walking toward her. “Shoot some pool with me.” It wasn’t a request.

‘Go to hell,’ she thought. “Alright,” she heard herself say, as she followed him over to the table. Almost instantly there was a pool cue in her hand, though she couldn’t remember how it got there.

She stood behind him as he leaned over and lined up the ball in his sights. She knew she should be following his breaking shot, but found herself watching his uniform stretch around his ass instead. It was a much nicer view. She felt her pulse pick up a beat.

The crowded room made for close quarters, and he brushed up against her as he moved to take another shot. Her skin was tingling where their bodies had met and she couldn’t seem to get the scent of him out of her nose.

She watched as he sank shot after shot, each time looking up at her as if to say, ‘Watch me do it again.’ But she didn’t care. Tonight, he could clear the table if he wanted. She wasn’t interested in the least in their game. Well, not this game.

As they stood in the middle of his damn holographic bar, all she could think of was how much electricity was passing between them. Not just tonight, but ever since she’d first seen him. Even when they fought—which was most of the time—she could feel the challenge he was extending. To punch him. Or kiss him. Her choice.

Tonight, her thoughts ran toward kissing him. Kissing him hard enough to wipe that stupid little smirk off of his face. She’d break his damn cue across her knee and chase him around the room with the pieces. Then, she’d pin that scrawny little ass to the pool table and claim him right there before she ground his groin into next Tuesday....

Before she could stop herself, she closed the distance between them and stood behind him as he lined up his last shot. One more ball in one more pocket and he’d have won without giving her so much as a chance. But he wouldn’t win. Not at the game she was playing.

She reached out her hand, and drew her fingers slowly up his inner thigh just as he extended his arm to shoot. She expected him to jump, to miss his mark, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, she watched as the last ball rolled quickly across the table and disappeared.

She hoped he’d at least look shocked. But instead he turned to her and smiled. “choqaD’a’?”

She shook her head for a moment. What did he say?

“SoH jatlh jIH ta’”

She only knew a few words and phrases, but she got his meaning. Something about accepting her challenge. Was he mocking her? And where in the hell had he learned to speak Klingoneese? She wasn’t amused. ‘If you think that’s supposed to be funny...’ she thought.

“HighoS,” she said instead. “Come here...”

Before she knew it, she was sitting on the edge of the pool table, tossing her cue onto the floor and pulling him toward her. The room was full of people, but she didn’t care. She knew, if given the chance, she would take him right there. He was on her in an instant, his body pressed against hers.

Still, some lingering part of her brain told her that this was wrong. That she barely knew him.

Suddenly, a series of images and sensations flashed through her mind in quick succession: seeing him smile at her over a meal in the mess hall, the smell of the salt air as they sat together on a beach looking up at the stars, the taste of ice cream and the expression in his eyes as she flicked some onto his vest, the heat of a summer sunset on her face as they ate dinner on a sailboat, the sound of music playing as they watched the harbor lights from the deck of a wooden sailing ship...her mind was overloaded with proof that he did know her. That they weren’t strangers. Still, though, it was a jumble and she couldn’t make sense of it.

While her brain struggled to understand how all of this was possible, she felt his weight press against her as he leaned over and begin to drag his tongue along her face. Without making a conscious decision, she turned her head and exposed her jaw. Almost instantly she felt the sting of pain as he sunk his teeth into her skin.

“My blood,” he whispered into her ear before running his tongue over her wound. Was he speaking in Klingon? Standard? She couldn’t tell anymore.

My god—he’d done it. He’d claimed her. The sensation was invigorating, and she felt her heart pounding its reply. Then, her eyes still closed in ecstasy, she found his face with her hand and turned his head to the side. In one quick movement, she bit into his cheek and made her own claim.

“Our blood,” she continued the ritual.

When she opened her eyes, the bar was gone. They were in a dark, cold cave, and Tom was standing there, holding his hand to his bloody face. “B’Elanna!” he was yelling at her. “What is wrong with you?!”

~~*~~

She woke up with a start, and it took her a few moments to place her surroundings. She was sitting on a stone, her back resting against the freezing wall of some kind of cave. As her head started to clear, she remembered that she was on an away mission. Looking for...some kind of mineral...what was it? Her confusion was unnerving, yet she was too tired to be afraid. It was everything she could do just to force her eyelids apart. Why couldn’t she stay awake?

And why had they sent her on this survey alone? Why didn’t she have an away team to help her find this stupid...gallicite! She was looking for gallicite. Not that she needed any help, though. This was her mission, her gallicite, to fix her warp coils. She didn’t need anyone; she could handle this on her own.

Yet, she wished Tom were with her. He knew how important this mission was to her, how much her engines meant to her. Tom would understand how much she needed to keep going after...after...

Something, on the edge of her memory. But she couldn’t place it. Then she licked her parched lips and tasted him, a hint of his blood on her mouth. It stirred something inside of her, something that made her body ache for him. Something...chemical.

She wished that she could remember how and when they had laid their claim. Why couldn’t she remember? Yet she knew, as surely as she knew her own name, that he was hers. Her loDnal. Her mate.

At least he would be, as soon as she could take him. Something had stopped her, she remembered. Something had gotten in her way before she could pull him to her, before she could seal their bond. But soon. Soon she’d know the feeling of his skin against hers. And then he would be hers for life.

She stood up and steadied herself against the wall. As strong as her desire to see Tom was her need to complete her mission. She found her tricorder in the dirt at her feet and turned it on. Gallicite. She was looking for gallicite...

After walking in circles for what felt like hours—never getting any closer to the mineral deposits that were clearly registering on her tricorder—B’Elanna considered stopping for a while to get her bearings. But something told her she was close. That she should keep going. She forced her feet to keep moving.

A shaft of light caught her eye and drew her off in a new direction. Water...droplets of water were raining down ahead of her from an underground spring. She stopped scanning and reached out her arms, catching some of the cool liquid in her cupped fingers. After taking a drink, she dragged her wet hands across her face and felt the drops begin to evaporate off of her warm skin. Why one part of this cavern was so hot and another so cold made no sense to her. Once again, though, she could feel her uniform begin to stick to her damp skin. She took another long drink before finally moving on.

She pulled out her tricorder and took another reading. There! Less than ten meters ahead of her. Gallicite.

B’Elanna felt her way along the cave wall, slipping several times on the loose stones under her feet. She hadn’t been this way before, she realized. This was it...

She could see a shaft of light, another spring slowly dripping water onto the rocks below. She aimed her wristlight toward the opening, before seeing a large, cavernous chamber ahead and to her right. She could see a shaft of sunlight play across the middle of the cavern, belying the depth of the cave and their distance from the planet’s surface. She should explore it she thought—later.

Her tricorder readings were dancing off the scale now, yet something was still wrong. Tucking the scanner back into her belt, Torres reached out with her bare hands to clear the narrow ledge before her. Buried under a layer of carefully-stacked stones ran an illuminated raceway. A pulsing, glowing energy conduit, which was completely shielded in...gallicite. Her heart leapt at her discovery.

Before she could let herself celebrate, she heard the rumble of rocks along the path she’d just traveled. Someone was coming. Finding a large stone to wield in her defense, she stepped back toward the wall and waited for the intruders to find her.

In a second, though, she caught his scent, and dropped the rock to the ground.

“B’Elanna...” he called her name. It sounded like music, and she wondered where he’d come from. Not that it mattered. He was here now, at the site of her glorious victory.

“Tom!” she called his name as she ran to him, taking his hands in hers. They felt cool and soft, and she wanted to fall into them, to feel them dancing across her skin. But first he needed to know what she’d found. “Come here,” she said as she pulled him with her. “You’ve got to see this!”

“How are you feeling, Lieutenant?”

‘Oh,’ she thought in passing. ‘Tuvok.’ She didn’t remember him being along on this mission.

“Fine,” she said, wondered what kind of question that was. B’Elanna turned her attention back to Tom as she leaned in close to him. “This is an active power system,” she said, thrilled beyond words that he was here to share in her discovery, and knowing that he would understand what this meant to her. “It must have been built by the colonists.”

His eyes were hard to read in the dim glow of the cavern. He was standing in a shaft of light from above, though, and—in the dark caves—it reflected off of his silver uniform, illuminating his body as if it were on display. He was sweating, too, she realized as his scent wafted over her. She wanted to kiss him, to push him to the ground and finish what they’d started in celebration of her victory. She needed to bask for a moment in the thrill of a successful mission.

She heard a voice, then...Chakotay? She had trouble making out what he was saying. “...send somebody down...study it more closely,” she thought she heard him say. “Right now, we’ve got to get you back to the ship.”

Back to the ship? Was he crazy? “No, no...this is my discovery. It’s my mission.” Why had all the men in her life gotten so stupid so suddenly? Why didn’t they realize what she had done? “You don’t understand,” she tried to explain as she walked along, her hands caressing her find. “This is the source of the gallicite readings! These conduits are covered in gallicite plating. It’s exactly what we need, and I found it!”

Tuvok moved toward her, and B’Elanna felt herself taking slow steps back toward Tom. She wondered why he still hadn’t said anything. Why hadn’t he congratulated her? Kissed her... “Yes, Lieutenant,” she heard the Vulcan drone on. “You have succeeded in your mission. Now you must tend to yourself. You are experiencing a condition known as pon farr.”

She looked up at Tom then back to Tuvok. What did he say? “Pon...what?”

“Your emotional balance has been disrupted. You many not be in control of your more...aggressive instincts.” That was ridiculous! Hadn’t she been sent here to find the damn gallicite? Hadn’t she done what she’d been instructed to do? This was all some stupid misunderstanding. It had to be.

Sure, she had a vague memory of yelling at someone. Someone...Neelix. Where was Neelix? But yelling didn’t mean anything. They were overreacting. Why were people always overreacting to her, treating her like some out-of-control animal when she got the least bit upset? “I lost my temper for a minute, that’s all,” she reassured them. ‘Tell them, Tom,’ she thought as she turned to him.

Just then, Paris turned his head, and the light from above revealed a wound on the side of his face. He was...wait. Not a wound. A mark. Someone had marked him! Someone had claimed the man she... No. Not someone else. She licked her lips and tasted his blood on her teeth. Why couldn’t she remember? And why was he suddenly looking at her as if he was afraid to be near her? “Why are you all staring at me like that?” she finally asked, backing away.

Tuvok moved toward her. “Please, come back with us to the ship,” she heard him say.

But there was no way she’d let him near her. And why wouldn’t Tom say something to defend her honor? “Just leave me alone,” she said to them. To all of them. She desperately wanted to be left alone...

Tom was standing there watching B’Elanna, wondering how he could have spent over an hour in her company that morning without realizing something was seriously wrong. He didn’t know this woman. She was defensive—bordering on paranoid. And she was pacing the chamber like a panther.

The way she’d greeted him, though: taking his hands in hers and pulling him along like her long-lost lover, the look in her eyes, as she held onto his hands...she was almost coquettish—practically daring him to kiss her, he thought. This was all so confusing.

He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that she was ill and not being rational, but somehow he wasn’t sure it was his place. At the moment, they were first and foremost junior officers on an away mission gone wrong. Their personal relationship—whatever it was—had already complicated their situation. And he didn’t want to risk her reaction in front of Chakotay and Tuvok. He had no way to know what she’d do or say.

So he just stood there, helpless, wondering how the hell this had happened.

Suddenly, the wall behind them began to move, and—from the corner of his eye—Tom thought the ledge was crumbling down onto them. He was stunned, then, to realize that what he’d thought was rock was the carefully camouflaged clothing of some sort of alien. An armed alien who’d shown up from out of nowhere. Then a second man appeared on the outcropping just above them.

“Who are you?” he heard from behind his first officer. Tom turned to see a third pale, gaunt man—his skin and clothing the same dull gray of the surrounding caves—brandishing a rifle and looking more than a little angry to find them there. He wondered if the men had just appeared or if they’d been in the cavern the whole time, masking their presence by blending into the scenery—if you could call their monochromatic surroundings scenery. He was also grateful, in that moment, for the universal translators built into their commbadges. “What do you want?” the alien demanded.

“My name is Chakotay,” the commander said evenly. Tom wondered how the man could sound so calm after just being startled by men their tricorders said didn’t exist. But the first officer’s tone was placid and sincere. Paris hoped the translator conveyed the nuance as well as the words. “I assure you we have no hostile intent.”

The alien, who Tom assumed to be the leader since he spoke for the others, didn’t seem convinced. He realized instantly what was making the man nervous: Voyager’s out of control chief engineer who was clearly unable to rein in her own anxiety. “She does,” the man said, waving his weapon in Torres’s direction.

Tom reached out his hand to try and pull her toward him, but she was too far away. Chakotay noticed her incessant pacing and tried to get her to calm down. “B’Elanna, please!”

As Tuvok tried to explain that B’Elanna was ill—though not contagious—Tom watched her from the corner of his eye. She looked scared. But her fear was making her aggressive and her body language reeked of hostility. And she was still pacing. One wrong move, he knew, and she could get them all killed. He wished she’d just stand still until Chakotay could explain. And, even though he knew deep down that she couldn’t help the way she was acting, Tom felt himself getting angry at her. He didn’t have time to figure out why. But he knew they needed to get her out of there before her condition made her do something stupid.

“We’d be glad to take her and leave your territory,” Chakotay offered, clearly thinking the same thing.

There was no sign that Starfleet ‘first contact diplomacy’ was working, though. “Not before you tell me why you came here,” the alien said, clearly less than convinced.

While Chakotay explained the reasons for their mission, Tom tried to split his attention between the three men with rifles and the agitated woman standing behind him. And he wondered, for a second, if any of them would get out of this with their lives, much less the stupid gallicite.

Their inquisitor’s curiosity had turned to their weapons, he noticed. Chakotay tried to explain that their phasers were a regular precaution when exploring an unknown planet.

“Let me see one,” their interrogator demanded, holding his hand out for the first officer’s sidearm. What choice did they have? They were clearly outgunned. In an attempt to be as forthcoming as he had tried to sound, Chakotay slowly unholstered his phaser and handed it to the man. Tom could see how nervous this made B’Elanna, and he and Tuvok both reached out to keep her from interfering. She evaded their grip, but stopped her threatening advance.

Her movement caught the alien’s attention, however, and he looked right at Tom. “And what is that?” he asked, pointing to the box at Paris’s belt. “Some sort of scanning device?”

“Yes,” he answered, trying to match Chakotay’s calming tone. “It’s called a tricorder.”

Something, some subtle shift in the alien’s voice made Tom think that maybe he was starting to believe them. “But it didn’t detect any lifeforms here?” he asked, almost as if he knew the answer.

“No,” Tom confirmed honestly and with more than a little confusion. “It didn’t.”

The man stood there for a moment, looking from face to face as if to gauge their honesty by their expressions. After a few seconds, he reached out and handed the phaser back to Chakotay.

Just as it seemed as if they were making some progress in diplomacy, though, a loud beeping noise interrupted their conversation.

“What’s that?!” B’Elanna asked, as she looked around for the source of the sound.

“Seismic alert,” the leader answered, gesturing to the rocks behind where Tom and B’Elanna now stood. “That wall is unstable. Be careful.”

Tom could feel a slight rumble under his feet, and he watched as the other aliens, Tuvok, and Chakotay began to back away from the ledge. B’Elanna was just standing there, though, staring at the trembling wall, and he realized he should probably try to snap her out of it and get her to safety.

Before he could take a step toward her, however, the alien who had first appeared above them jumped down to the cavern floor and approached her from behind.

“Watch out!” the man said as he put his hand on her shoulder, trying to move her out of danger.

Tom knew what would happen before he watched it play out, and—as he expected—B’Elanna misinterpreted the man’s intentions as some kind of attack. She spun around and grabbed his rifle and struggled to wrestle it out of his hands. Tom also caught a glimpse of Tuvok drawing his hand phaser and firing. But nothing happened. Their weapons were dead.

Tom realized then that he had to do something. He had to stop Torres from beating the alien to a bloody pulp—before she got herself and the rest of them killed.

“B’Elanna, don’t!” he called out to her as he grabbed her from behind and tried to force her off of the man she was fighting with. He was amazed, though, at how—even pulling with all of his might—he wasn’t able to break her grip. She was stronger than he’d realized. And he was getting nowhere.

Just then Tom felt grains of sand fall onto his face, and he looked up in time to see a piece of the cavern ceiling break loose. It was heading right for them.

With all of his strength, he pushed into B’Elanna’s back, knocking her a meter or so forward and out of danger. With no time to follow her, Paris turned and dove in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding the boulders showering down around him.

He rolled over just in time to see a shapely silver blur wrest the gun out of the alien man’s hands, knock him onto the ground, and turn around to fire.

“B’Elanna!” he yelled out to her, terrified of what the men would do to her if she attacked them with their own weapon.

He thought he heard something in that instant and—fearing that someone would attempt to subdue her violently—Tom rolled on his side to see what it was. But there was nothing there.

When he turned back a second later, the three aliens, Chakotay, and Tuvok were all gone. Vanished into the darkness as if they’d never been there at all.

Thankfully, B’Elanna was still there, though she was brandishing the alien weapon wildly as she searched the now-deserted cave. Tom got to his feet and looked for some clue about what had just happened. It made no sense. One second they were surrounded by the aliens and their shipmates. Now they were alone. Yet another weird moment in an already weird day.

He looked over at B’Elanna, and struggled to know what to say. He was angry at her—furious that she’d almost gotten herself killed by attacking an armed man who’d only wanted to help her. Intellectually, he knew she couldn’t control the way she was behaving, but she was being reckless. His own frustration was rising as he realized that she could have died over a stupid misunderstanding.

Tom watched as she paced around the cavern. “There must be a hidden door—some kind of a passageway,” she said. He noticed that she’d unfastened the neck of her uniform and was running her hand across the skin of her shoulder as she paced.

He wanted to stop and see if she was hurt, but his concern and his anger couldn’t agree on what to do. Instead, he pulled out his tricorder and scanned the room. Maybe he could find some evidence of an escape route, as she’d suggested. But a quick check revealed nothing. “I’m not picking up anything like that,” he told her. “Or any lifesigns.”

“Then you’re using it wrong!” she said as she ripped the device from his hands.

“Yeah, that must be it,” he said as he grabbed it back from her. “Or else these aliens are generating some kind of interference so we can’t detect them.” His anger was building up now as he compiled a mental list of all the things that had gone wrong so far this day. He was getting furious at B’Elanna for reasons he couldn’t understand or explain. Her behavior could be written off as some weird Vulcan mind meld. So what justified his own out-of-control frustration?

Tom didn’t know and didn’t have time to find out. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted off this rock. Now.

He heard a noise and turned around to see B’Elanna ripping open her climbing uniform and pulling her arms out of the sleeves. Instead of following him, she was sitting down. “We have to get out of here before they come back,” he said to try to keep her focused.

“We can’t leave Chakotay and Tuvok,” she mumbled, clearly ignoring his suggestion that they keep moving.

It was the last straw. “If you have any ideas how to find them, I’m listening!” Tom barked at her. He waited for her angry response. What he got, instead, was a look of exhaustion and fear. There was a different face looking up at him. The Klingon warrior was gone. He was looking at B’Elanna now. A drained, confused version of the woman he knew. Bathed in a diffused light filtering down from the surface, she looked fragile. And beautiful.

In an instant, he felt the fury drain out of him, replaced by...replaced by an overwhelming need to protect her. She was sick, he reminded himself. She couldn’t help what had happened to her.

Tom walked over and crouched at her feet, gently reaching out his hand to hold onto her arm. “We’ve got to get back to the ship and get some help,” he said softly. “For them...and for you.”

Her skin was like fire, he realized. Yet she seemed to be shivering. “Why does everybody keep saying there’s something wrong with me?” She was barely whispering, and he wondered how he would ever get her all the way back to the surface by himself.

“I’ll try to explain it to you,” he said reassuringly. “But we’ve got to get moving.”

She nodded, and reached for her backpack and the rifle. Then they began the slow process of retracing their steps toward the surface.

They’d walked in silence for about twenty minutes when B’Elanna stopped and leaned against the wall. “Tom,” she called to him. “What’s happening to me?”

He turned around, the beam of his wrist lamp illuminating her face in the darkness. She looked tired, but she looked like herself. The wild expression was gone from her eyes and she didn’t