Chapter 18 added on 3 Sept 2000
Disclaimers are in part 1.
Rating: R
Seven and B'Elanna retreated to their room as soon as they were finished with the dishes. The half-Klingon never imagined that she would enjoy the domestic lifestyle that living in Dannan's house had provided, but of course, she was finding that she enjoyed almost everything she did with Seven. The Borg had found her method of washing each dish individually and thoroughly less than efficient, and suggested an "improved" method. Finally, after much debate, they had settled on a compromise, and completed their chore, but not before a little water fight had broken out.
B'Elanna leaned back against the wall as she reclined on the cot waiting for Seven, who sat in front of the mirror on the night table, to finish putting up her hair. They were going into town today to arrange a new passage off the planet in search of Voyager. The lieutenant didn't know what they were going to do if their search proved futile and Voyager had already determined they were dead after over a week and left. Would they continue to make their way back to the Alpha Quadrant trailing after their ship or return here to live out their lives? The Borg pod was the only Borg system they knew of for light years. B'Elanna couldn't bear the thought of Seven having to live the rest of her life mildly disabled even if her implant functions did not deteriorate any further. Somehow, she would find a way to repair the Borg technology if they were to be stranded on this planet, and heal the ex-drone's condition.
B'Elanna watched through hooded eyes as Seven brushed her hair with long, slow strokes, working out the tangles. If she didn't know better, she thought Seven was actually enjoying the process. The half-Klingon smiled and stood up, moving behind the young Borg. The engineer took the brush from Seven's hand, who looked up at her slightly startled then sighed imperceptibly as B'Elanna began with gentle strokes. B'Elanna drew up the shoulder length blonde tresses and twisted it into a loose bun, leaving some of the end in short wisps to spill freely upwards and out.
"This is not my usual form," Seven noted when the pleasant experience ended, turning her head left and right while glancing in the mirror to examine the bun.
"I know. It's a little more relaxed. We're not on a starship anymore, so I thought you might like something less official looking," B'Elanna explained, liking the way the hair softened the ex-drone's features.
Seven nodded with satisfaction, then froze when B'Elanna caressed the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. The Klingon loved the baby soft feel of Seven's skin.
"You really are very beautiful, Seven," B'Elanna told her, looking at the reflection of the young Borg.
Seven raised her hand to touch the implant over her brow, wondering if she could see what B'Elanna saw without remembering the pain of her assimilation. B'Elanna didn't mean to make Seven uncomfortable, so she tried a different approach instead.
Leaning down, she grinned and said, "And I'm not just talking about that pretty face of yours, especially when you're jealous," kissing Seven playfully on the nose afterwards.
"You are attempting to make amends for your sexual indiscretion," Seven remarked as she looked up at the lieutenant, trying to keep a stern look on her face, but failing.
"Hey, there was nothing 'sexual' about it!" B'Elanna cried indignantly, hands on her hips.
"You were gone for fifty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds," Seven pointed out, standing up from the chair.
"I had a tattoo painfully etched on me, remember? Besides, sex doesn't need to take that long," B'Elanna joked.
"Indeed. Sex does not."
Seven didn't seemed to be joking at that moment, as they both gazed at each other. B'Elanna found it difficult to hide her longing, the thought of making love slowly to the young woman crossed her mind.
"Perhaps, I should obtain my own skin decoration," Seven said with a smirk.
Shaking her head, B'Elanna grinned and replied, "Oh no, you don't. If you want a tattoo, I'll give you one..."
Seven pulled the chair between them when she saw the feral expression on B'Elanna's face, her Klingon passion easily provoked. She laughed as she ran around the small room, keeping the lieutenant at bay with the chair, until the woman leaped over the chair and tackled her onto the bed. The bed springs squeaked audibly with effort. Seven let out a squeal as B'Elanna latched onto her neck with her lips and started sucking away like a leech. B'Elanna was attempting to give her a "hickey," if she recalled correctly from her research on human mating practices. It was not as unpleasant as she had pictured from the data. Finally, she was able to push B'Elanna up away from her, both giggling ridiculously like children. B'Elanna tried to shush them both unsuccessfully, peering nervously at the door. Instead, Seven grasped the half-Klingon's shirt by the shoulders and tugged her down for a kiss, effectively ending the giggle fest.
Outside their room, Dannan and Edyn sat at the table sipping a few early morning ales, chuckling at the noises they heard.
"Gods, we're we ever that young?" Dannan murmured, looking into his glass.
"Hey, speak for yourself. I've got a few good skirt-chasing years left in me," Edyn answered, imagining all sorts of things that might be happening behind that closed door which would produce so much squealing and giggling.
"Maybe the skirt of your nurse," Dannan retorted.
~~~~~~~~
B'Elanna and Seven stepped out of the sandy streets into Dannan's shop. They both agreed to assist Dannan in the morning and make their way later over to the bar to see if they could arrange a new passage off the planet in search of Voyager. They cranked out the work efficiently between the three of them, and by mid-morning, took an break to stretch the kinks out of their backs.
Dannan walked over to his desk on the far corner of the shop and pulled out a drawer. He picked up the forgotten item in his hand, and brought it over to B'Elanna who was leaning on a elbow across the table, watching Seven polish her recent work.
"Did you want to finish this, Bey?" he asked her as he handed over the small rectangular device.
"No," she replied abruptly, after taking one look at the machine, and handed it back. She seemed almost embarrassed by it.
Seven noticed the exchange and reached out before she could be stopped to see the device for herself, much to B'Elanna's dismay. The device had a small screen with several touch buttons along the sides, but it didn't appear to be functional.
"What is it?" she inquired. When she did not find the answer forthcoming from B'Elanna, she looked towards Dannan.
"Ay,.... It is a game box. Bey was repairing and updating it," Dannan replied vaguely, getting his cue from B'Elanna's body language.
"Is it valuable? What is it's purpose?" Seven took less than a few seconds to size up the simple design.
"It is just for pleasure, Ani, a game which occupies the time," Dannan elaborated.
"Are you selling it, Dannan?" Seven asked, still confused by the concept of the little machine.
"It was for you," B'Elanna answered lamely.
"For me? You spent your productivity on this?" Seven asked, arching her brow at B'Elanna.
"I thought it might have helped with your boredom, before we found the Borg pod," B'Elanna replied flushing, even more embarrassed now. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Seven noticed her discomfort, and wanted to put her at ease, realizing she must have gone to a great deal of trouble fixing the game box for her. B'Elanna reached out to take the game box away, but Seven turned, clutching the device to her chest, worried that B'Elanna would take her gift back.
"Then it belongs to me, does it not?" Seven noted.
"Yeah, I guess it does," B'Elanna told her quietly, wondering what the ex-drone was thinking.
B'Elanna came around to Seven's side, but Seven kept turning from her as if B'Elanna was trying to take the box away.
"Here, let me activate it," B'Elanna prompted.
She took the device and flipped it over, pulling away a tiny panel and snapped something inside. She replaced the panel and pushed the switch at the top of the device to "On." The machine booped and beeped noisily as it booted the game. Seven retrieved the machine, curious as to what sort of game it contained.
"Wait, I have to show you how to play," B'Elanna protested, trying not to laugh at the Borg's eagerness.
"I am Borg. You will not deter me from winning this game," Seven gave her patented answer, her eyes fastened on the screen.
B'Elanna watched as the Borg discovered each of the buttons' particular function for herself. But as soon as she turned away, she heard the dismal sound of the loser's jingle. The knit in Seven's brow told her that the ex-drone did not like that particular sound.
"Seven, the goal of the game is to take the three dimensional shapes and fit them together so that they will form a level plane. The shapes fall from the top of the screen so within that time frame, you may want to turn the shape to the correct axis and move it so that it fits well with the other pieces. Once the shapes form a level plane, that plane disappears," B'Elanna explained. "The point of the game is to not allow the shapes stack up to the top of the screen or you will lose. And sometimes it's better to stack up the shapes in a way so that you can get rid of a bunch of levels when the right piece comes along, rather than rushing."
"Oh, and the level of difficulty increases as you successfully win each game," she added, forestalling Seven's next obvious comment. "And don't use your ocular implant."
Almost wanting to stick her tongue out like Naomi Wildman would, Seven replied, "I understand, and I will adapt."
Seven started the game again and began to play, even as Dannan and B'Elanna watched on, shaking their heads when she became completely engrossed. Internally, however, the half-Klingon was tickled pink that Seven would like something as mundane as what B'Elanna had given her.
~~~~~~~~
The "Hyperdrive" was packed as usual with it's afternoon crowd, most of them having just woken up, hoping to cure their hangovers with what gave it to them in the first place. With their faces hidden by their hoods, B'Elanna and Seven wandered over to the bar and ordered their drinks, mostly for show on Seven's part since the Borg knew she could not hold her liquor from past experience. They eyed an open table along the right wall that was moderately well lit and sat down, observing the band as it played to the audience. It was packed today, probably because a new influx of ships brought along their cooped up crew from the ends of the sector.
B'Elanna looked over the lip of her glass and scanned the room as she sipped her bitter brew. Once again, she stretched back to her old Maquis experience, remembering the times when she and Chakotay made their contacts in similar watering holes, trying to negotiate contraband and information regarding the movements of the Cardassian military. She came to the conclusion that one hole-in-the-wall was like any other hole-in-the-wall; stuffy, dark, seedy, but teaming with possibilities only the underbelly of civilization could provide. She scrutinized one particular alien several tables down toward the stage. The bartender had pointed him out earlier because he ran a transport vessel that traveled farther than most.
Seven fingered her drink, occasionally taking what looked like a guzzle, but in truth her sense of smell had already warned her of its caustic properties. She stared with frank fascination at how B'Elanna was able to swallow the contents of her glass without reaction. She found herself looking at the half-Klingon often, observing her gestures and expressions, frequently surprising herself at the amount of pleasure she took from it. Seven could tell B'Elanna was very focused at the moment, her brown eyes narrowed, her curved nose pinched and full lips pursed. Suddenly, those big brown eyes turned to look at her, caught her staring.
Eyes glinting with humor, B'Elanna asked her, "So, are we in this all the way?"
Seven nodded slightly. "I have responsibilities on Voyager. The children are in my care, and I cannot abandon them."
The Borg suppressed her own emotions on the subject, aware of their effect each time she thought about her own childhood loss. B'Elanna must have sensed the gravity of her admission because she slipped a hand over to cover one of hers. The touched lingered for a minute.
"I'm gonna go and try to strike a deal with that man over there. Watch my back?" the lieutenant requested.
"This time will not be an exception," Seven answered, quirking her brow high.
B'Elanna snorted as she walked away, and Seven indeed watched her back, as well as the fine sway of her hips and the firm shape of her behind. The ex-drone folded her arms and pushed her chair back against the wall so that she might have a better view of the room and all its customers.
Twenty minutes and a couple of beers later, B'Elanna headed back to their table, having negotiated a new arrangement. She wove her way around the rowdy crowd, and discovered an unwanted visitor standing at their table, who was talking to Seven. The Klingon came around to her chair, planting herself down abruptly, and glowered coolly at the alien. The alien was medium height, broad shouldered, with thick arms and legs, but had a pot belly that stuck out too far for his shirt to cover completely. His unshaven angular face, bushy black hair and brows on an otherwise unremarkable humanoid face did nothing to endear him. Neither did his greasy T-shirt and weathered leathery pants. The alien welcomed her presence with a thin smile.
"Is there a problem?" B'Elanna asked, not relenting her glare at the alien as she pressed back into her chair.
"Mr. Rul here offered to purchase another drink for me. I have declined," Seven informed her.
"Well, I guess you'll have to excuse us then," B'Elanna hinted, not so subtly, tilting her head towards the crowd.
"Oh, come on now. What's a little harm in sharing a round of drinks? The more the merrier," Rul persuaded in a deep raspy voice, placing his hands on the table surface and leaning down towards Seven. The brief glimpse of her golden hair had attracted his attention as it was rarity seen in his colony.
"Perhaps another time," Seven proposed, knowing that they would not be back if all went well.
But the alien wouldn't budge. Instead he pushed, "Not later, now."
That was it. B'Elanna tried to be patient, but her temper flared. The man's persistence was definitely getting on her nerves, and her Klingon pride was asserting itself. She stood up and placed her own hand on the table, leaning her face forward to confront Rul.
"Like she said, another time," she growled, grinding her teeth in the process.
It amused Seven to no end that B'Elanna never seemed to give consideration to the size differences between herself and those she challenged. Rolling her eyes, she observed as both of them postured aggressively. To Seven's amazement, the lieutenant seemed to bristle and grow in stoutness as she tensed her Klingon body plating. One of the alien's friends two tables away seemed to notice what was going on, and called over to Rul.
"Hey, give it a break. That's one of the Nokk champions. You might want to listen to her," he laughed.
Upon hearing that, Rul re-sized the half-Klingon, and said, "Next time then."
No one knew exactly how it happened, but as the alien retreated away from their table, he tripped and fell backwards against the next table. His hip must have jostled the surface hard causing the drinks it held to tip over and spill onto the occupants, a bunch of muscular, furry creatures. One of them stood, grasping Rul's shirt with a hairy paw.
B'Elanna's eyes widened as she murmured to Seven, "Better get ready to duck!"
Seven took a second to note the glee in the lieutenant's voice before she had to jerk away from her chair as Rul came flying back towards their table, pinning it against the wall. But he was fairly resilient, having been in a number of these brawls. He jumped back up and joined the fray that his friends and the furry beasts had started. B'Elanna flipped their table onto its side, and pulled Seven behind it as she peered around the edge, watching the skirmish. They heard glass crashing behind them against the wall as those watching on the periphery began tossing their drinks. B'Elanna was about to jump into the fight when they heard weapons fire. A blast from across the room bore a hole through their table, barely missing Seven's nose, and B'Elanna realized that things were getting out of hand. She motioned for Seven to follow her as she drew out her disrupter from the holster at her waist. They ducked and crawled through the crowd, hiding behind the overturned tables, towards the entrance of the bar. A meaty hand grabbed Seven arm and pulled her upright. It was Rul, but Seven had had enough of her experiences with manhandling and knocked the burly man over with a swift jab to the chin. Unfortunately after that, they were stuck in the mix.
~~~~~~~~
The door burst open with a kick, and B'Elanna and Seven stumbled out of the opening, running as fast as they could into the alleyway. The half-Klingon was huffing, but her eyes were bright and she had a wicked smile on her face. Seven glanced up and down the alley, and tucked her weapon away when she was satisfied that no one had followed them out of the bar.
B'Elanna looked up and smiled impudently, "Well, that was one way to spend the afternoon."
"I am overjoyed that you enjoyed yourself, Bey," Seven noted dryly.
B'Elanna shrugged, but Seven allowed herself to smile. She stopped when she saw the look that came over the Klingon's face next.
"Ani!"
~~~~~~~~
Seven sat up against the rock. They had walked a little distance to the edge of town behind the bar, and took shelter on the ledge of one of the hilly rock formations that enclosed the settlement. The shelf banking above them casted a cool shade. She turned to hear the sound of ripping as B'Elanna tore the helm off her cloak. The half-Klingon looked perturbed as she knelt in front of the ex-drone, and had been silent for a long time. The superficial graze had bled out of proportion to its severity, but B'Elanna had been distraught to discover that Seven had been injured. Carefully, B'Elanna bound the bleeding wound on her left arm with the scrap of cloth.
"Bey?" Seven called out to get her attention.
"Is it too tight?" B'Elanna asked, worry and, perhaps, some anger in her voice.
"No, it is satisfactory. Are you all right?"
B'Elanna stared at her, then murmured finally, "I'm fine, Ani."
"You appear...upset," Seven observed, pulling B'Elanna by the hand, entreating her to sit near her.
B'Elanna sighed as she gazed off into the far distance. "You always seem to get hurt around me."
Seven considered her words, noting the double meaning. "You blame yourself for a random series of events. Perhaps we should blame Lt. Carey for assigning us to the away mission, or my ignoring your order not to touch the EPS conduits."
That brought the lieutenant's attention back. "Well, not when you put it that way," B'Elanna mumbled.
"We have the potential to hurt each other," Seven said quietly, delving further into the matter.
B'Elanna could not look her in the eye, her track record being the worst. Seven edged closer to B'Elanna, placing an arm around her waist. Gently, she turned B'Elanna's face toward hers with the tips of her fingers. B'Elanna looked deeply into her eyes, her gaze containing a bit of sorrow Seven had seen before on Voyager, and the Borg knew the lieutenant was far more sensitive than she ever let on.
"I could be the one to hurt you...," Seven told her. "But is that not all part of having trust in a relationship?"
Tenderly, B'Elanna kissed the Borg on her cheek for what seemed like an eternity. "How did you get to be so wonderful?" she asked offering a small smile.
"Perhaps it is easy for me, when I am with you," answered Seven, arching her brows, as she pressed herself into B'Elanna's arms for a kiss.
They seemed to be doing more of that of the late. B'Elanna loved the way Seven's kisses kept reminding her of the sweet taste of fresh mid-summer strawberries. Seven never held anything back in her kisses, not her attention, the depth of her emotions, or her physical contact. It never failed to touch B'Elanna right to the core of her soul and tap into the emotional dam that held her own passion back.
"What I would give for a patch of grass right now," B'Elanna laughed, when she bumped her head against the rocky shelf above them.
"Our surroundings are somewhat uncomfortable," Seven admitted, glancing around their position at the rough floor of the ledge, her arms wrapping the Klingon in a tight embrace.
B'Elanna rested her face in the nook of Seven's neck, nuzzling the smooth skin. "Want to watch the sunset before we head back to the house?"
"I do not understand the appeal of watching astronomical entities follow the natural pattern of their orbits," Seven wondered aloud, feeling B'Elanna's giggling breaths on her neck. "However, I am sure you will explain it to me."
~~~~~~~~
Dannan sat on the bench in front of the house, brushing Fessi's belly hair. He had been neglecting the poor animal, not having walked him consistently for the past week, and Fessi had let him know its discontent in a big way. Suffice to say, Dannan immediately began to dote on his beast of burden, who was more like an overgrown, fat pet. Seven and B'Elanna entered the gate just as it had gotten dark, pulling their cloaks off in the safety of their refuge.
"You both are late tonight?" Dannan inquired with a grin for greeting, picking off some of the fur from the animal brush.
"We were involved in an altercation at the 'Hyperdrive,' and thought it would be prudent to avoid the streets," Seven explained.
"Ani!" B'Elanna whispered, in an attempt to stop her.
"Then we decided to 'make out,' and watch the sunset outside the town."
"Ani!"
Of course, Moka chose to walk out of the house to greet them at that moment, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Well, what took you so long? I thought I had to start dinner without you both," Moka asked with an all too innocent smile, even though there was no way she could not have overheard the last few comments Seven made. She just wanted the Klingon to squirm a little more.
Seven opened her mouth to respond, but B'Elanna had come up next to her and nudged her in the ribs. "I will explain later," was all the Borg replied.
"Oh, shit," B'Elanna muttered.
"Bey, not in front of Moka," a surprised Seven chided.
"No, I really mean it...," B'Elanna growled, as she lifted the sole of her foot up, and glowered at Fessi.
Fessi snorted derisively.
~~~~~~~~
Berek fiddled with the comm for the third time. There was nothing else to do other than improve the transmission of the message their freighter was sending on all subspace channels. The message was simple enough, only one repetitive phrase in an attempt to contact a deep space starship. They were already on the border of the next sector since their launch this morning. There was nothing much to do on the freighter, other than to keep the ship's systems functioning. He narrowed the band width further and isolated a clearer frequency, at least for the next few light years until they reached another pocket of space with increased subspace interference.
"This is the freighter ship, Teresida, attempting to contact the Federation Starship Voyager. Repeat, this is the freighter ship, Teresida, attempting to contact the Federation Starship Voyager...."
Berek suspected that Abcedi was carrying more information privately, but he was instructed to run no other communications. Apparently, Abcedi expected this starship to answer to the message without question.
~~~~~~~~
Ensign Tom Paris adjusted course to new bearings as he piloted the helm of the Delta Flyer. Neelix was off in the back snoozing after his return from Roka Noonan Prime, where he had just finished meeting with the Space Traffic and Trade Ministers. They had no reports regarding their two missing crew members to their frustration. It had been five days since they headed out to meet with the official contacts in this sector, and it had been one disappointment after another. So far, Voyager had no success in locating the whereabouts or news of B'Elanna and Seven.
He tugged at his collar which had been chafing him all day long. In fact, everything seemed to bother him lately, and only Neelix had the patience to calm him every time he vented his frustrations. He heard noises from the aft section, and guessed that Neelix just woke to relieve him for his shift. Either that or he was fixing up a light snack. Neelix's long crest of hair peeked out from the hatchway and the rest of his body followed.
"Okay, Tom. Time for your break," he informed as he stretched out his back.
"Did you have a good nap?" Paris asked, trying to maintain his usual sense of humor.
"A most refreshing nap. I just think back to the Ragosian Waterfalls back on Talaxia, and that makes me fall asleep every time!" he answered cheerfully, as he came up behind the pilot.
"I'm glad," Paris returned. "I've changed our heading to new bearings. Voyager contacted us about an hour ago and told us to meet them on the border of the third sector."
"Understood. I'll hold her steady while you get some rest."
Tom was about to step up from the conn when the comm panel lit up with blip. "It looks like we've picked up a hail on a subspace channel.... I'm gonna patch it through."
-Beep-
"This is the freighter ship, Teresida, attempting to contact the Federation Starship Voyager. Repeat, this is the freighter ship, Teresida, attempting to contact the Federation Starship Voyager...."
Neelix and Paris both exchanged stunned looks before they both scrambled to answer the hail.
"This is the Delta Flyer, from the Federation Starship Voyager. We received your message, please respond," Paris called out anxiously.
"This is Captain Abcedi, on board the Teresida. Who am I speaking with?" the voice over the comm replied.
"This is Ensign Paris of the Federation Starship Voyager. Do you wish to contact our ship?" asked Tom.
"How do we know you are associated with this vessel?" the voice or rather Captain Abcedi asked suspiciously. "I was told to speak to either Captain Janeway or Commander Chakotay or see the vessel USS Voyager herself."
"I can contact my ship and request them to meet us at designated coordinates. It would help if I knew what this was in regards to?" answered Paris.
"We have a message from someone called, B'Elanna Torres. I assume she is your crewmate?"
"Yes, she is. I will contact my ship. Give me the coordinates on where to meet your freighter and I will relay your message," Paris offered happily. Grinning ear to ear, Neelix patted his shoulder enthusiastically at the news.
"Understood," Abcedi replied.
Smiling, Paris keyed in the subspace band, and hailed Voyager, while Neelix adjusted for a new course as the coordinates came through.
"Delta Flyer to Voyager."
Author's Notes:
1. yIntagh (expl!): The unofficial definition: stupid; dumb as rocks. This is a direct attack at the intelligence of the victim. May have overtones of petaQ and toDSaH as well: soft, spoiled, and utterly useless, with stupidity as the overriding factor.
2. http://www.geocities.com/SiliconValley/Pines/8152/klingon.html - Klingon Culture: One favorite drinking activity is the Warrior's Head Butt. Two warriors grab each others' arms, and butt their heads together violently. The one that's left standing is declared the winner.
3. Sorry, but I believe in recycling misused lines of dialogue such as "We were more than friends." in Unimatrix Zero.
To be continued....