Part 7 added on 14 Jan 2002
Disclaimers are in part 1.
Rating: PG13
And that was how Mira Hassan found them a couple of hours later. Both asleep, Seven on the floor, wrapped in a carpet and B'Elanna on the small bed. It had not taken her men long to trace the whereabouts of a six foot blond sporting an odd metal face decoration and carrying a paralytically drunk Klingon. The population of the area were only too keen to share their information. The landlady of the low rent house where the fugitives were sleeping was the most forthcoming of all.
"That tall one, she was sent here by an old friend of mine who met her wandering about looking for someone. I knew she was not from around these parts and peculiar from the way she spoke and so I charged her double me normal price." Seeing the wry expression on Hassan's face the old woman said defensively. "It's a risk innit? Taking in strangers. You dunno what they're going to be like." Mira didn't bother reminding the crone that in this town almost everyone was a wanted felon including the old dear herself who was rumoured to have murdered several members of her family. The woman continued prattling.
"Now that blonde one, she didn't have any cash but she did have a few belongings with her so I sent her down to Lurky Jeff to see if he would take some of her stuff for cash. Must have worked 'cos she was able to pay me up front for a week. She's a funny one, didn't know where to buy food or anything. I said to her 'Go round the Black Dragon, you can get all kinds of grub there and very reasonable too.' " The landlady sniggered. "She told me all posh like that she did not require grubs. She needed nutrition."
For a very reasonable amount of latinum the old lady then agreed to let Mira in to the room without waking the occupants. The tall smuggler smiled to herself as she stood looking at them. Patience was a virtue. She holstered her disruptor. It wasn't going to be necessary unless the Borg cut up rough.
"Wake up," she said normally and when there was no response she said it more loudly. She walked over to Seven and gave the ex-drone a gentle kick. Seven murmured, stirred and then before Mira could speak again she found herself on her back, badly winded and hardly able to draw breath, pinned by 180 pounds of angry, carpet wrapped Borg. B'Elanna was also on her feet now and Mira felt the disruptor being pulled from her holster.
"You found us." B'Elanna stated the obvious. "Where are your men Mira?" she asked while checking all the possible hiding places in the tiny room with her newly acquired disruptor. A precaution which took all of ten seconds. The half-Klingon looked puzzled saying aloud. "Not like you to risk being outnumbered Hassan."
Mira tried to answer but Seven's arm, being applied with some pressure to her throat, made speech impossible so she just gasped.
B'Elanna grinned at her and not in a good way. "Let her speak Seven but if she tries to shout for help cut off her air supply permanently." Seven complied and pulled away just enough to allow the pirate to breathe and speak.
Sobbing for breath Hassan shakily drew several mouthfuls of oxygen into her aching lungs. With difficulty she began speaking quickly between painful gasps.
"I checked your story B'Elanna and it tracks. One of my crew .... ex-starfleet .... knew about a Maquis ship and a Starfleet vessel lost in the badlands years ago .... thought all dead 'til the Starfleet ship got a message back to the Feds, lost in the Delta quadrant together with the Maquis. She remembered your name from the manifest, 'cause she knew you .... at the academy."
"Small galaxy," said B'Elanna but she was still suspicious. "Okay Hassan, so you know we're telling the truth. Then why this? Why let yourself in without an invitation? Why pay any attention to us at all?"
"I wanted to see if you needed any help."
"and .... " prompted B'Elanna.
Mira smiled slightly depite the pain and discomfort of her position. " ..... and I am curious about that ship you signed over to me. We can't seem to gain access short of blasting a hole in it."
Seven sat up abruptly although she still kept a restraining hand on the intruders chest, pinning her easily and exclaimed.
"You gave her The Turing?" And then in even more shocked tones, "For nothing?" Newly initiated into the cash economy Seven had begun to understand the importance of getting a fair price. "She will have to return the vessel." said the Borg resolutely and increased the pressure on Hassan making her yelp and gasp for air.
"I didn't give it to her, I just used her name to get access to her docking and repair account." B'Elanna assured Seven who relaxed slightly.
Half-strangled Mira squeaked "But my name is on the station vessel manifest as owner and without my authorisation you can't leave the station." She instantly regretted saying anything when Seven leant more heavily on her ribs and cut off her air again, ignoring her struggles with ease.
Seven glared at B'Elanna. "We need that ship if we are to leave this place and return to Voyager. It was not yours to give away."
"It's 'kay," croaked Mira, "Must breathe .... Please."
"Let her up Seven. She'll be okay."
"I will comply but she will return our ship." said the ex-drone emphatically. Seven disentangled herself smoothly from the pirate and the carpet in one graceful move and stood up. She took the precaution of drawing her phaser.
Finally released Mira sat up slowly as her ribs, chest and lungs painfully uncompressed and she shook her head, disbelieving her own stupidity at getting herself into such a vulnerable position. She made to get up until Seven, who was still looking distinctly threatening, lifted her phaser. Mira subsided again.
"You can put the phaser down Seven of Nine." she said, "I understand the arrangement that B'Elanna was making with me. And now that I'm not trying to kill her I'm happy to honour that arrangement. Can I get up?"
"You may stand." said Seven stiffly and lowered her phaser. "What arrangement?"
"B'Elanna can answer that. We haven't thrashed out the exact details." Mira grinned at the young Klingon. "It's good to see you by the way especially now I don't have to kill you."
B'Elanna offered her hand to the smuggler and helped her to her feet. "It's good to see you. As for the ship I was expecting the usual arrangement. Repairs and restocking in exchange for work."
"Work of what nature?" asked Seven warily.
B'Elanna was amused to notice that Mira moved to put B'Elanna between herself and the dangerous Borg before answering.
"I'll be honest B'Elanna. I don't have many safe runs available at the moment. The only cargo waiting is not something I feel you could handle, I'm not sure an entire battle fleet could protect it actually. But if you want to wait for a few weeks I'm sure something will come up and no doubt your ship will take a while to repair."
"37.2 hours when the proper materials have been obtained." said Seven precisely.
Mira looked at her appraisingly. "I'm impressed. You obviously have many talents Seven of Nine as well as being a beautiful woman."
B'Elanna looked up sharply. Mira was a flirt and very successful with men and women though she preferred the latter. Before Rosalind had come on the scene Mira had been notorious for racking up conquests.
B'Elanna did not need to worry; with all immediate threats diminished, Seven was not even slightly interested in the tall pirate. Her main concern now was to make good on the promise she had made to B'Elanna; she had sworn to tell the whole truth and Seven was not going to make the error of delaying again. She was anxious to get rid of Mira Hassan. She drew a padd from the supply bag and gave it to Hassan.
"We require the items listed on this padd. Please notify me when all items have been acquired. We will discuss suitable and equitable employment for myself and Lieutenant Torres when the Turing is spaceworthy," she said in a tone which did not brook of any argument.
B'Elanna's lips twitched as she watched Hassan lose control of the situation, obviously taken aback by the Borg's evident belief that Mira Hassan, the most feared smuggler in the sector, would follow instructions like some junior Starfleet ensign.
B'Elanna interjected before Mira could protest.
"And in the meantime we need food and a bath." She looked at Seven's body suit which was distinctly grimy and torn in several places. Of course the ex-drone still looked better than B'Elanna who was wearing the over sized and now filthy Starfleet uniform she had stolen from the Vigilant. "And we require clothes Mira." finished B'Elanna cheekily.
Hassan pursed her lips and bowed slightly, tacitly acknowledging her defeat.
"As you wish B'Elanna and anything for the fair Seven of course." she flattered smoothly. "I believe I can estimate your correct size Seven; I have an eye for a beautiful woman's figure." She punched a few numbers on the padd she was holding and showed it to the ex-drone. Seven nodded and the smile was wiped from B'Elanna's face. She was also annoyed that a smirking Hassan had noticed the change in her expression. Cursing inside she hoped the bloody woman wasn't going to make a nuisance of herself with Seven.
"What about you B'Elanna? Size?" Mira said pointedly handing the half-Klingon the padd. B'Elanna punched the keys angrily and handed it back.
"I see" Mira acknowledged calmly as she read the brusque warning scribbled on the padd which simply read 'Hands off'.
"Not what I expected B'Elanna."
"Then your skills are imperfect," Seven noted objectively, completely unaware of the underlying tension. "Lieutenant Torres measurements are exemplary for her height and physiology."
It was hard to say who was more taken aback, B'Elanna or her potential rival. Mira recovered first.
"I think that's my cue to retire gracefully from the field for the moment B'Elanna, I will contact you as soon as I have news about your requirements. Clothing and food will be delivered here within the hour. I don't suppose you're going anywhere for the moment?"
The pirate was set to leave, trying to ignore the insufferably smug expression plastered over B'Elanna's face, when she paused and turned abruptly. She drew the half-Klingon into a crushing hug and whispered softly in her ear.
"I have missed you Torres even if you are a lucky dog. You don't deserve her." B'Elanna hugged back hard but said nothing. Mira let her go and left the room quickly.
Seven looked at B'Elanna strangely. "Why a lucky dog?" B'Elanna blushed and shrugged. 'Borg enhanced hearing' she thought to herself. 'I'll have to remember that.'
A Starfleet Base on Delta Cygnus
Lenara Khan peered at her human companion irritated by his inanity. Not that he realised it. To his eyes the Trill scientist never seemed to be rattled or annoyed. Kravitz thought there was an almost unnatural calmness about the woman.
"Explain to me Dr Kravitz why we have to recalibrate all our equipment to detect another suitable wormhole terminus in the Delta Quadrant?" she asked with exaggerated politeness.
"Starfleet are concerned that a hostile species has identified the nature of our tests and is trying to use the tests to penetrate our space. The probe we discovered and that vessel which was found near the test site appeared alien and possibly Borg."
The little man shuddered with exaggerated fear at the idea.
Lenara Kahn was dismissive.
"Yes well that information hardly agrees with the report from the Vigilant which suggested the occupants were human or part human at least and their ship appeared unarmed."
"If they were so innocent then why did they run away Dr Kahn?"
Lenara was bored with the conversation. It was beyond her understanding why a man who called himself a scientist could take such a depressing interest in military matters.
"I can't imagine Dr Kravitz, perhaps they took exception to being arrested by Starfleet. No other threat has appeared. The modern Federation is unduly nervous about encountering new civilisations."
"But you understand the concerns about security Dr Kahn."
"Ah by that you mean concerns about secrecy. Meeting a new civilisation from the Delta Quadrant would be a giveaway wouldn't it?" The elegant woman smiled bleakly.
To continue her research she had done a deal with the devil and now she was trapped. She had been persuaded too easily into believing that the wormhole research was necessary to prevent the Federation being caught napping by the Dominion or the Romulans. (Granted she had been told the research was to be purely theoretical and would enable the Federation to monitor the Dominion and the Romulan Empire for signs of artificial wormhole experiments. Monitoring was a legitimate exclusion from the treaty with the Dominion.) It had helped her decision that she desperately wanted to continue her life's work. Months later it had become apparent that Starfleet were well advanced in the construction of experimental wormhole generators based mainly around her research but by then it was too late for her to withdraw and the consequences of attempting to leave the project had been made plain. And it wasn't just herself who would suffer. Her brother and several other respected scientists would lose at least their careers if not more. She decided to concentrate on the scientific problems. Those seemed much more tractable.
"Replay the analysis model of the wormhole telemetry. Start the analysis timeline thirty seconds before the alien probe entered the wormhole." she instructed the senior technician.
The simulated reconstruction of the wormhole appeared on a viewscreen above a stream of analysis data. She watched it flare and change colour as the foreign probe started its journey.
"Stop. Replay again from the same point. This time display the wormhole showing tetrion field polarities."
An incoherent fluctuating pattern appeared on the screen. Seconds later the pattern resolved itself in to a series of smooth contours which seemed to travel along the schematic outline of the wormhole. The pattern disappeared after a minute as the alien probe left the wormhole and entered the alpha quadrant.
"Replay the last attempted entry by a starfleet probe." The screen flared into life with the same chaotic pattern. The probe entered the wormhole and the pattern resolved itself into a smooth wave of energy lines moving along the wormhole, but the pattern dissolved after only fifteen seconds when the Starfleet probe was crushed in the wormhole.
Lenara Kahn suddenly knew what was different. It was obvious.
"Replay both recordings side by side." The technician complied and the two recordings appeared on a split screen. She sighed, half in satisfaction at solving the mystery and half in frustration at the implications. She didn't have a solution but she certainly had a better theory.
"Care to comment Dr Kravitz?" she asked. The small human shook his head still looking puzzled. She put him out of his misery.
"Notice the movement of the tetrion fields. It would appear we have created a one-way street. The probe from the Delta quadrant was moving with the forces inside the wormhole. Our probe was running against them as though against a flood tide. We didn't know that an object travelling from the far end would not encounter the same problem."
Kravitz was furious and terrified. He had been promising his sponsors in Starfleet a breakthrough for months and it had seemed so close. Now what did he have to offer? Fear clutched at his scrawny body. Too many important people had risked their careers and their reputations on this project for it to fail.
He tried to regain some composure and said "This is no doubt a temporary set back. A solution will be possible."
"Not with this method of wormhole generation," Lenara replied bluntly. "If I am correct then this revision to my theories would resolve a number of inconsistencies."
"So, after fifteen months of research and the consumption of massive resources that the Federation can ill-afford after the Dominion war, all you have managed to produce is a way for our enemies to invade us." Kravitz whined accusingly at the apparent architect of his woes.
"Hardly that." she coolly replied. But the irony was compelling and she couldn't help smiling. "They could only use the wormhole if we agreed to hold the door open for them."
"Then you have failed Dr Kahn and we are lost." he said gloomily, imagining ending his life in a Federation penal colony. He had little doubt who would be cast as the scapegoat if news of the wormhole experiment leaked out. The Starfleet admirals and politicians were not going to suffer and the Trill cosmologists were famous scientists who would be under the protection of their own government.
By contrast Lenara Kahn was not even slightly afraid. It was almost a relief, her research could be brought to an honourable close and perhaps she and her brother could return toTrill.
"It depends how you define failure Dr Kravitz. If you mean I have not developed a means of stealthily delivering large armies into the heart of rival empires then you are correct. But from my point of view I have developed a means of generating navigable singularities in time and space which was the original intention of my research."
Kravitz ignored her and slumped in a chair.
An idea bubbled up in her mind.
"What about that ship lost in the Delta Quadrant?" she queried. "We may be able to use this technology to bring them home."
"You've heard the rumours," said a still melancholy Kravitz, too frightened about the future of his project to guard his tongue about such trivia as shuttles.
"What rumours?"
"A ship did come through the wormhole and it was a shuttle from the USS Voyager. But let me tell you a funny thing Dr Kahn. It's not a rumour. It's true. Two of Voyager's crew managed to negotiate their way through the wormhole in a shuttle."
"What?" Lenara Kahn was genuinely astonished. "It can't be true. Everyone would have heard by now."
"Not if the powers that be deemed it unwise to disclose that information. You really do not understand the people you are working for Dr Kahn." He slumped further into the chair and a tear of self-pity ran down his cheek.
She gazed at Kravitz and caught a glimpse inside the calculating minds of the men and women who ran the military machine of which she was now a part. She remembered all the dramatic publicity and excitement when Voyager first managed to get a message back to the Alpha quadrant. The subspace news broadcasts had been alive with Starfleet admirals swearing that no effort would be spared trying to find the lost ship and help her come home a little quicker. And now some of those same admirals were suppressing the miraculous news that members of Voyager's crew had returned. Her disgust at her own involvement deepened although she remained sceptical about the shuttle story.
"We did not detect any vessel coming through wormhole. How did they manage to enter unobserved?"
"Apparently they came through as it collapsed when the generator was switched off at the close of the last experiment. Their engines failed and they were very lucky to survive the trip. But I doubt they'll stay free long enough to enjoy their good fortune. The whole of Starfleet is looking for them." Kravitz couldn't help feeling a little pleased that he was not the only one having a bad time.
Lenara Kahn turned away feeling angrier than she could ever remember and promised herself that she would find a way to help Voyager and her missing crew. She hoped the two runaways were surviving and wondered where they were and what they were doing.
A Guesthouse in Mudd City
B'Elanna, wrapped in a sheet, emerged from the sonic shower to find a very nervous Seven of Nine pacing up and down the small room.
"Your turn," said B'Elanna feeling as though she had won a million bars of latinum. It was amazing to have slept, eaten and washed and all within a single eight hour period. All she needed now was clean clothes and she could conquer the Universe.
"We must talk." said Seven looking very distracted.
B'Elanna regarded her companion affectionately. The Borg was in tatters and visibly grimy. Her normally neat blonde hair was awry and sticking out at odd angles. But then crashing through wormholes, being imprisoned and roughed up by glorified police officers, escaping from pirates and finishing up sleeping on a hard floor wrapped in a carpet would do that to you she reasoned.
"Shower and food first." she insisted. "I am not talking to someone who appears to have gone twenty rounds in a dust-pit with a Targ and lost. We Klingons have a very acute sense of smell."
Seven did not notice the insult. "B'Elanna, I must talk to you. You made me promise to tell you the whole truth."
"Seven would you please take a shower and get those rags off. Whatever you have to say can wait ten minutes." B'Elanna's cheer faded. "Nothing can be as bad as what I already know."
Considering that objectively, Seven knew the half-Klingon was correct. B'Elanna might be shocked by the revelations about Tom Paris but she would not be as devastated as she was by the destruction of the Maquis. In any case the Borg was not used to being in such a state of disarray. It was uncomfortable.
"I will comply." she said briefly and went into the tiny bathroom leaving B'Elanna alone. But the half-Klingon wasn't on her own for long. A knock at the door revealed the lady of the house bearing a bundle of clothing and two pairs of boots..
"From Hassan." said the old crone. "For you and the blonde." she continued in case there was any doubt. B'Elanna took the pile of clothes from her but the woman followed her into the room peering about curiously. "Sleep well did you?"
"We slept very well until someone got into our room." said B'Elanna sharply, unimpressed by the expression of concern on the woman's face.
The old woman was unabashed. "I told Hassan I didn't want no trouble. She said you were friends of hers an wouldn't mind her letting herself in. Seein' she's buying your togs and nosh I guess she is your pal. So no harm done then."
B'Elanna perked up her ears.
"Nosh? There's food? Where?" B'Elanna suddenly found the aged hag much more appealing.
"I was just going to bring it up to you. Does your friend want any? Shall I ask her?"
"Just bring up everything Hassan had delivered and we'll decide what we want from there. Is that clear?"
The old woman looked offended. "Of course. I just didn't want to waste anything if you wasn't wanting it." She headed out the door muttering about how ungrateful and suspicious some people were.
B'Elanna sorted out the garments and was set to announce the good news about the clothing and food when Seven appeared in the doorway from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. B'Elanna felt her jaw drop like an asteroid into a gravity well as she gaped at the beautiful woman. She tried to speak but her brain seemed to have disconnected from her vocal chords. No words forming. Not that it mattered as she had no breath left in her lungs to express them.
Seven appeared unaware of the effect she was having. She saw the clothing clutched in B'Elanna's hand.
"Mira Hassan is efficient." she said approvingly. "Have you identified which articles are assigned to you?"
It took B'Elanna a long second before she was able to understand and reply to the Borg's enquiry.
"Yes" she croaked inaudibly. B'Elanna turned her gaze to the floor and found her breathing improved slightly though she was very aware that Seven was standing quite close. "These are for you." she said tersely and held out several garments.
Seven took them from her and held them up for inspection. "Acceptable. But an excessive amount of black."
"That's smugglers for you." said B'Elanna who was concentrating on averting her eyes.
"You find my body offensive," Seven stated unexpectedly. "It is too Borg."
B'Elanna, taken by surprise, glanced up and looked directly into Seven's troubled blue eyes. Feeling foolish B'Elanna closed her eyes and collected herself. She decided on frankness.
"I find you very attractive Seven, so much so it seems to be disrupting the flow of blood to my brain."
Oddly enough her words did not seem to please Seven. The reply was hesitant and disjointed.
"I am sorry B'Elanna. I did not mean to disturb you. I will dress now in the bathroom."
"Hey Seven don't apologise, honestly there's no need. I'm the one that should apoIogise for behaving like a dumb adolescent. I love how you look. You must know how crazy I am about you." said B'Elanna warmly, deciding that now was as good a time as any to declare her nascent love for the Borg. She gazed into serious clear-blue eyes. Trying to ignore the erratic, thunderous heartbeats and control her painfully uneven breathing, B'Elanna took a small step forward.
"No, do not say any more," Seven's voice cracked with helpless panic and she fled, crossing the short distance to the bathroom in two long strides, disappearing before B'Elanna could protest.
'That could have gone better,' thought B'Elanna feeling hurt. She remembered her earlier conviction that Seven had someone waiting back on Voyager. 'Looks as though I was right.' she concluded unhappily. She dressed without enthusiasm; there was too much black. She felt as though she was dressing for a funeral and it didn't help her overall despondency.
"I don't know why I always manage to pick the complicated ones." she complained aloud to herself before recollecting that Seven could probably hear her. She switched to silent grumbling. 'Of course I had to choose probably the only Borg in the galaxy with a romantic past.'
Loud banging on the door interrupted her. She opened the door to find a tray stacked with food lying on the landing floor. The landlady was trundling down the stairs and B'Elanna called after her.
"Is this all of it?"
"Except me handling charge love," answered the aged grifter with surprising honesty. With resigned amusement, B'Elanna watched the old lady vanish into a side door.
B'Elanna picked up the tray and backed inside. Mira had done them proud it seemed. Given the quantity it was hard to begrudge the old crone's deductions.
"The food's arrived," she called out to Seven and felt the air driven from her lungs again when the blonde ex-drone re-entered the room. Black suited her very well. She looked slender and dangerous. Too glamorous to be a real smuggler, like a heroine from a holovid. B'Elanna knew she was staring but couldn't help it.
"Do not look at me like that," said Seven quietly.
"I'm sorry, I'm staring, I know but you must be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."
"My physical appearance is irrelevant. You are married."
Seven took the tray of food from her hands and set it on the table.
"Acceptable," she said, examining the food arranged on the tray as though nothing had happened. "There is sufficient nutrition here for two meals. I will allocate the necessary quantities."
Seven had dropped the bomb so quickly that B'Elanna did not react for several seconds. Feeling wholly detached she watched Seven precisely divide the various types of food into into neat portions. 'So that explains Seven's attitude towards me,' she thought rationally, as though solving a slightly annoying puzzle. Then the blast of the revelation hit her.
"No! It's not possible."
"Why impossible?" queried Seven looking genuinely puzzled.
"I can't be married," B'Elanna croaked almost inaudible. "I would never marry. I hate marriage."
"I attended the wedding," said Seven without inflection. "You are married."
"Who?"
"Lieutenant Paris."
B'Elanna sat down with her mouth open.
"Now I know you're lying." She laughed nervously. "This is your idea of a joke. Tell me this is Borg humour."
"I am neither lying nor attempting humour." said Seven evenly. "You married Mr Paris three months ago."
"Why? Why would I do that?" asked B'Elanna her mouth dry, making speech difficult.
The question seemed too hard for Seven. She did not answer. For a few moments there was silence as both women contemplated possible reasons.
"I must have been mentally disturbed," exclaimed B'Elanna. "Being in the Delta quadrant sent me crazy."
"Not apparently. Your mental state was markedly stable."
"I married Tom Paris and you say I was sane." B'Elanna got to her feet and started to pace. "This isn't happening. I mean the guy's a liar and a traitor."
As much as Seven would have liked to agree with that assessment honesty forced her to demur.
"Mr Paris is much different from your recollection. I am told he is anyway. He is a valued member of Voyager's crew." She added hesitantly. "I almost like him."
"Almost?"
"He has your love." Seven's voice was hardly audible but B'Elanna heard and understood that Seven was telling her the truth. Hearing the sadness in Seven's voice she also understood for the first time that Seven had been attracted to her before, perhaps even loved her but she had not returned those feelings.
"I'm sorry." she mumbled not really knowing what to think or feel.
"It is of no importance," said Seven quietly. "Eat this," and she gave a plate of food to the half-Klingon who had stopped pacing and was standing in front of her but not looking at her. B'Elanna took the plate. She couldn't yet make any sense of the revelations. It was just too strange.
"When we have finished eating we should return to the Turing and make ready to start the repairs." said Seven.
"Yeah. Sure." B'Elanna lifted her eyes to meet Seven's. "Seven I wish that ... Did I care for you, back there?"
Seven was brusque. "No you did not. I do not wish to discuss it further. Please concentrate on our current predicament."
'I am thinking about our current predicament,' B'Elanna thought to herself aware of the painful twist to her heart as she gazed at Seven who had turned away and begun to eat her food. The latter activity still looked as though it was strange to her. Seven seemed so vulnerable, although how anyone so obviously powerful and dangerous could be vulnerable B'Elanna wasn't sure. 'At least I can look after her and get her home to Voyager.' she reasoned. It then occurred to B'Elanna that returning to Voyager would be the start of their problems, not the end. She decided not to think that far ahead and to concentrate on matters at hand and dammit she was really, really hungry.
To be continued....