Accidents and Other Emergencies (parts 1 to 3)

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Submitted by halfofone on Sun, 11/09/2005 - 10:38.

Star Trek Voyager

Torres/Seven

1 to 3

Sun, 11/09/2005 - 10:00

15 or R

Sequel to Perfect Misfits. B'Elanna has discovered that Seven of Nine is not just a Borg machine. Even more surprising it seems that Seven of Nine has a romantic attachment to the half-Klingon that is completely unexpected by everyone including the self-same half-Klingon.
Special warning: I'm afraid Tom Paris suffers mightily in this fic. Mightily.
Notes: This fic was originally written some years ago. It hasn't been on the net for a long time because I didn't really like some parts of it. However others disagreed, so I have decided to make it available with some editing especially in the final chapters.


TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.


Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.

Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.


CHAPTER 1

B'Elanna Torres surveyed the smoking ruins of Voyager's main engine room with a mixture of pride and exhaustion. Engineering had kept Voyager flying through another bruising encounter and the ship had survived against the odds. Again.

The weary alpha shift were handing over their stations to the beta shift and heading back to quarters to sleep, or sloping off to Sandrines to unwind. Not that the beta shift were in much better shape. Most of them had been on duty during the red alert, either as backup in other sections, or drafted early to engineering to take over from wounded alpha crew. The damage to the ship was extensive possibly requiring weeks of work to repair and the whole engineering team would be pulling double shifts for the next couple of weeks. They needed to rest when they could.

B'Elanna certainly wanted nothing more than to return to her quarters and sleep but before that could happen full damage reports and a repair schedule had to be completed, ready for the Captain to review before a senior officers meeting in two hours. And the Chief Engineer would also have to oversee the start of the emergency repairs that had already been identified.

Voyager's hull had taken a real beating and the first priority was to ensure it was in no danger of breaching. An inspection squad was preparing to go outside onto the surface of the hull. The warp engines were down too and B'Elanna had a separate team already started on the dangerous task of repairing the leaking warp core. Even impulse engines were only functional because of power rerouted from the weapons array otherwise Voyager would have been completely dead in the water. After that... B'Elanna sighed.

There was a very long list from the main phasers through to the mess hall ovens and replicators. With the best estimate in the world she wouldn't get any rest for at least another six hours and then only a couple of hours before coming back on duty. However there was one good aspect to the heavy workload - she could avoid continuing her fight with Tom Paris over the events in the Verroth village.

Ship wide gossip had distorted the facts into a hot affair between the B'Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine. The other members of the away team denied saying anything but whatever had been said spread like a plasma fire out of control. Tom had apparently heard from Lieutenant Gerard who thought 'he should be told'. B'Elanna was going to have a quiet word with Gerard. The upshot was that Tom and B'Elanna had a big fight and B'Elanna ditched him.

The day after the split Tom had behaved with his usual maturity and stormed into main engineering, totally out of control, interrupting a conversation between B'Elanna and Captain Janeway. So now Janeway knew about the gossip as well. The Captain had not been pleased with Tom or B'Elanna for allowing their private lives to intrude again and had delivered a lecture that left the pair feeling flayed.

That had been a week ago, before this current crisis. Tom had changed his tune since then and was begging her to forgive him but B'Elanna couldn't yet bring herself to do so. She wasn't sure why - after all Tom had only behaved as she probably would have done in his shoes: shot first and asked questions later.

As for Seven they had hardly spoken since returning to the ship but B'Elanna was painfully aware of Seven's presence and, equally, her absence. A humiliating weakness that B'Elanna was determined to ignore.

She shook her head trying to concentrate on the immediate problems. After barking a few commands at her staff, B'Elanna climbed into a vertical Jeffries tube to inspect the damage to the warp plasma manifolds. The circuits were fused and twisted, every one would have to be replaced. Cursing she added the replacements to her padd.

A noise at the far end of the Jeffries tube warned the engineer that she could expect company. Dismay accompanied the knowledge that the intruder was Seven of Nine and B'Elanna's response was fiercer than she meant.

"What do you want here Borg?"

Seven actually sounded a little uncertain when she answered.

"Lieutenant, I was unaware you were in this tube. I will return later, when you have completed your work."

Immediately suspicious of the Borg's motives, B'Elanna went on the offensive.

"That's not what I asked Seven. What are you doing in Engineering?"

"The astrometric sensors have been damaged. I intended to repair..."

B'Elanna interrupted before the blonde drone could finish.

"... and shift your department to the head of the queue, as usual. Dammit Seven you cannot waltz in here whenever you please and decide what should be done to suit you. We are overstretched and exhausted and there are more important repairs to be done before we get to the astrometric sensors. Now get out and don't come back."

"Lieutenant I will carry out the repairs myself."

B'Elanna smiled at the ex-drone with more than an edge of malice and enunciated slowly "So you want to be an engineer?" Seven was plainly disconcerted and B'Elanna pressed her advantage. "Right, well get up here and start removing these fused circuits," she ordered. "If you are a good efficient little Borg, I may let you repair the astrometric sensors in a couple of days, maybe."

For a moment Seven looked as though she would protest but instead she closed her mouth and proceeded to climb up the ladder to the inspection platform where B'Elanna Torres was perched holding a large wrench. She had to climb around the engineer to get past and for a few seconds she could feel Torres' body against her own. She froze at the touch, her mechanical co-ordination failed and the drone missed her footing on the ladder bumping hard against the engineer and knocking the latter off the precarious platform. For a few moments both officers were hanging by one hand as they scrabbled against each other, trying to get a footing on the ladder. In the momentary panic they found themselves wrapped around and clinging to each other and the ladder.

B'Elanna Torres was looking into Seven's face just a few inches from her own. The drone was breathing harder and her full lips had parted slightly, her normally pale blue eyes had darkened. The Chief Engineer leant forward to close the last few centimetres and kissed the Senior Astrometrics Officer gently on the lips. After a few moments Seven pushed her away but did not try to break her hold completely and they stared into each others eyes, both trying to block out the thoughts crowding in.

A very Klingon lust swept through B'Elanna fuelled by the feel of the perfect body pressed against hers. Her pulse thundered in her head and a red haze rose in front of her eyes. She tightened her hold on the Borg's waist, leaned in quickly and sank her teeth into the soft pale cheek. Seven of Nine yelped in pain and pulled away, blood oozing from the wound. B'Elanna growled, her hormones dancing from the taste of Seven's blood. She kissed Seven hard and the blonde woman moaned before pushing B'Elanna away firmly.

"You lied on Verroth Lieutenant. You said you did not bite" Seven said, her voice shaking whether from fear or desire, B'Elanna could not be sure; however the shock of hearing Seven's voice sobered the overwrought Klingon very effectively.

"Are you joking Seven?"

B'Elanna gaped at Seven in consternation. She could not believe her own actions let alone believe that the Borg of all people might find humour in the situation.

"No. I am stating a fact, being literal, being Borg." Seven sounded almost bitter. "What do you want from me B'Elanna Torres? Are you 'joking' or just being Klingon?"

Before she could respond a voice from below startled them and they jerked apart.

B'Elanna's elbow dislodged the large wrench she had placed on the platform beside her. It fell four metres landing on the head of Thomas Eugene Paris who had just started to climb up the ladder. He dropped to the ground poleaxed. Looking down B'Elanna could see his fair head motionless at the bottom of the shaft.

"Ohmigod Tom."

She slid down the ladder as fast as she was able and tapped her comm badge.

"Emergency transport, two to sickbay."

'TRANSPORTER SAFETIES ARE OFF LINE. TRANSPORTERS ARE UNAVAILABLE' replied Voyager's computer.

"Goddamit! Another one for the bloody list. Sickbay can we have a stretcher team down here; we have a casualty."

The Emergency Medical Hologram answered.

"Sorry B'Elanna, we have no spare crew. You'll have to bring any casualties into sick bay or if it's not serious get Tom. He's doing the rounds treating minor injuries. Assuming he hasn't found something more important to do."

"Doc, the casualty is Tom. Someone dropped a wrench on his head... well me actually... but it was an accident."

There was a moments silence.

"Well bring him up here. What's one more in bedlam. EMH out."

"Seven get down here," B'Elanna ordered. "I need help. We'll have to carry him to sickbay."

Seven of Nine made her way down the ladder more slowly than B'Elanna. She was even paler than normal which accentuated the thin trickle of blood that had run down her cheek. She did not speak to B'Elanna but bent down and lifted the limp body of the fallen ensign with little apparent effort.

"Hey I'll help you."

"Unnecessary Lieutenant."

Looking at the still face of the tall Borg, B'Elanna decided not to argue. Silently they made their way to sickbay ignoring the curious stares of other crewmen.

Sickbay was full. Several crew lay on the floor and every available crewman with any medical experience whatever had been drafted in to help. The EMH met them at the door.

"Put him down there Seven." He ran the tricorder over the ensign, "Mild concussion - he'll be fine and I need him back on his feet." As he spoke he slid a hypo-spray into Tom's neck.

The EMH then noticed Seven.

"What have you done to your face Seven? It looks like a bite." The Borg batted the tricorder gently aside.

"The injury is trivial Doctor. My own systems will repair the damage in less than two hours, do not concern yourself. May I return to work now Lieutenant Torres?"

She sounded cool and unconcerned but did not meet the engineer's eyes and B'Elanna Torres was at a loss to know what the Borg was thinking. Now that Tom was safe she could think about the events leading up to the accident. Seven would be well within her rights to make a formal complaint to the Captain.

And I would deserve everything the Captain threw at me. Why did I do it?

B'Elanna replied hesitantly to the ex-drone's request.

"Yeah sure. Go ahead. I need to get back also."

Without further words or even a look Seven of Nine turned and left sick bay.

"Lieutenant, before you go," said the EMH. "I am experiencing some auditory problems in my left ear. My matrix may have been damaged."

B'Elanna was watching the door through which the Borg had just left. She replied absently. "Right Doc I'll add you to the list and we will get to you as soon as possible. Now I have to go."

"Fine just leave me to suffer," the Doc said snarkily, "but don't blame me if I can't hear your complaints and by the way Lieutenant, you might like to wipe that blood away from your mouth. You don't want to frighten anybody."

B'Elanna swore loudly. The Doc just smirked and pretended not to hear, gesturing at his left ear. She spun round and stomped out of sickbay.

A minute later Tom Paris woke up on the floor.

"What happened?"

"Lieutenant Torres dropped a heavy object on your head," said the EMH. "And believe me Mr Paris I can understand the temptation. I send you out to help people and you come back as a casualty. Have you no sense of responsibility?"

CHAPTER 2

A couple of hours later B'Elanna was tearing her hair out. An explosion on deck 5 had caused two turbolifts to collide and damaged the turbolift controls and all over the ship turbolifts were behaving very erratically, stopping between decks and then whizzing at unsafe speeds to the wrong destinations. Reluctantly she tapped her comm badge.

"Torres to Janeway."

"Janeway here."

"Captain we will have to take the lifts off line before someone is hurt."

"Are transporters functioning yet Lieutenant?"

"No. I'm sorry Captain."

"B'Elanna, I want transporters or lifts back in operation within the next hour. Is that clear? Janeway out."

A few seconds later Chakotay's voice was heard in a ship wide communications. "All crew members - turbolifts are off-line. All crew must use the Jeffries tubes until the lifts are repaired."

Some of the engineering team groaned. They had to carry the heaviest equipment and materials and their job had just got a lot harder. The engineering crew were feeling the relentless pace of the schedule they had been set.

B'Elanna tried to sound resolute despite her tiredness.

"OK girls and boys you heard the Captain. The lifts are more easily repaired than the transporters but there is a lot of damage on deck five. It involves heavy lifting so Costa, Moore and Chiney you're with me." She beckoned to the three biggest members of her team. She paused. "Seven, you too, I need brawn and brains. Carey you're in charge here."

After half an hour of sweating and hauling gear and removing rubble the team had cut their way to the damaged turbo lift control. Seven took over manually rerouting all the lifts around the damaged ship like an air traffic controller from past times.

"Torres to all crew - we have restored manual control of the lifts. Please restrict journeys to essential trips until full automatic control is restored." Torres watched Seven concentrating on the lift movements in three dimensions across 15 decks. Even after thirty minutes of hard labour the drone still looked elegant and cool. The engineer was unpleasantly aware that the same could not be said for herself.

"Nice work Seven. I may have a job for you as a logic circuit" said B'Elanna jovially.

"I would find it easier if you desist from making irrelevant comments Lieutenant." Seven was not in any mood to banter.

"Why would I want to make it easy for you Borg?" B'Elanna said trying to get a rise from the cool blonde even as she told herself that she was being childish.

"To avoid further injuries being inflicted on your crew mates because you cannot control your antagonism towards me." Seven kept her eyes on the lift schematics, her fingers flying across the control panel but her voice rose a little.

B'Elanna looked guilty.

"Look Seven I want to... you know... the Jeffries tube," she stumbled over her words. "It didn't mean anything, just exhaustion, frustration and bad old Klingon hormones."

B'Elanna didn't know why but she desperately wanted to know what Seven thought about the incident. She got her wish when Seven took her eyes away from the flashing control board and looked up at her. The Borg was plainly furious, the pale blue eyes blazing but her voice remained cold and controlled.

"I believe you Lieutenant, it was nothing to you."

B'Elanna Torres stepped forward and put her hand on Seven's arm.

"Seven I didn't mean... not like that."

"There is no need for explanation Lieutenant. The incident is of no importance. I must concentrate. The turbolift on deck 4 has departed its station without closing the doors."

At that second there was a loud crash as Tom Paris fell to the bottom of the shaft beside them after running to catch the turbolift on deck 4. He had jumped through the still open doors only to find the lift had gone and instead a ten metre vertical drop awaited him. He opened his eyes in pain and registered B'Elanna, with her hand on the drone's arm, staring open mouthed at him, then he passed out, his leg shattered in eight places.

When he woke up in sick bay twenty minutes later the Doctor was regarding him with irritation.

"Yet again Mr Paris, thanks to my remarkable skills, your injuries are fully healed and I am happy to say you can return to your duties, which are many and accumulating. There is a new report of a fire in deflector control. There are several burn injuries, so please attend, assess the injuries and treat what you can. Anyone you can't treat, bring into sickbay."

"On it Doc." The ensign pushed himself to his feet gently testing the leg which had fractured in the fall.

"And Mr Paris please try not to fall down any more open shafts. I have seen enough of you lying on that bio-bed for one day."

Tom Paris was not paying any attention to the EMH. The Ensign had just remembered seeing his lover with her hand on the Borg.

"What is going on between them? And what was B'Elanna doing in a Jeffries tube with Seven of Nine in the first place?" he asked aloud. His normal dumb good guy expression hardened with suspicion. B'Elanna had lied to him about her feelings for the Borg.

CHAPTER 3

Hull and warp engine repairs completed, Voyager was at warp six, speeding away from the scene of the recent battle towards a distant star system where stellar cartography had previously identified several planets which might contain stocks of raw materials to be mined although without long range astrometric sensors it was hard to be sure. The Captain was anxious about remaining in the area in case reinforcements arrived to support the fleet of four unknown ships they had defeated and Voyager was in no shape to defend herself. This whole sector of the delta quadrant seemed to be at war with each other and anyone who got in the way.

B'Elanna woke in her bed after a too brief sleep. The Vulcan engineer Vorik was shaking her arm and she pushed him away growling.

"Get out Vorik if you want to see your family again."

Her favourite engineer was unperturbed by his boss's anger.

"Lieutenant 0600 hours wake up call - you asked me to make sure you did not sleep in. Also there is some trouble in the mess-hall. Neelix is attempting to serve breakfast, in the form of cold leola root stew; the crew are very dissatisfied. Neelix has requested your assistance before you start your shift."

Still growling she shut her eyes, counting to ten.

"Thanks," she muttered and then swung her legs out of bed. "Give me ten minutes for a shower."

Yawning B'Elanna Torres made her way to the mess-hall to find a near riot brewing around the small Talaxian cook.

The mess hall had suffered a direct hit and a consequent plasma fire. The interior was ruined and several sullen crewman sat on the floor or on bits of rubble amidst the blackened destruction, eating from a variety of receptacles.

Neelix stood protectively in front of a large container trying to fend off a large crewman who was shoving him fairly hard and swearing. Several other crew stood by encouraging the infuriated ensign. The little cook was pleading.

"Ensign Maris please calm down, I'm afraid it's all we have - the other storage tanks ruptured in the plasma fire. I know the stew isn't particularly good when cold but it is highly nutritious."

Neelix words were greeted with an expletive and renewed pushing. B'Elanna Torres pulled the burly Bajoran crewman, a former Maquis, off the beleaguered Talaxian. Neelix smiled weakly at her.

"Thank goodness Lieutenant. I am extremely glad to see you. Some of the crew are a little perturbed by the er... situation."

Ensign Maris snarled and Neelix backed away nervously.

"Lieutenant we cannot eat this shit" said the aggrieved crewman bluntly and proffered his bowl for her inspection.

"Then don't eat it. Get back to your post Maris, five years on Voyager has made you soft. In the Maquis you would have begged to eat this..." Her words trailed off as she contemplated the brown lumpen porridge congealed in the pot. Pieces of bile coloured leola root could be seen jutting from the solidified stew between accretions of cold grey fat spread like mould on the surface.

Hungry as she was B'Elanna Torres knew that starvation would be preferable.

"Neelix... perhaps emergency ration bars would be more... I mean less... disgusting. I can't believe that I just said that!"

She glared at Ensign Maris who had folded his arms and was watching her reaction with righteous satisfaction.

Neelix was even more apologetic. "Sorry Lieutenant, the Captain has forbidden the crew from touching emergency rations while there is still ordinary food available."

Torres looked at him unbelievingly. "Tell me something Neelix"

The small cook smiled obligingly.

"Did the Captain eat this?"

"Well the Captain did say she wasn't hungry but she assured me that she would be back later for some lunch."

"I see. Did she know that this was the only food available?"

"I am not really sure Lieutenant." As he spoke Torres was running an engineering tricorder over the damaged replicator units. She swore lightly.

"Torres to Janeway"

"Janeway here. What is it B'Elanna?"

"Captain I'm in the mess hall - I thought I should report on the situation here. There are no functional replicators, ovens or heating units ...."

"B'Elanna that can wait. I want the deflector and weapons array fully repaired as soon as possible." The Captain sounded impatient.

"Captain, as you probably know already, all except one of the food storage containers were damaged in the plasma fire." Trying to keep her voice bland B'Elanna kept speaking. "Fortunately there is enough cold leola root stew to last three days until we are scheduled to start the mess-hall repairs."

The Captain was silent.

"Of course I can probably repair a couple of the replicators and an oven in about half an hour ..."

"Twenty minutes B'Elanna, no more, Janeway out."

B'Elanna grinned in triumph and the crew in the mess hall raised a cheer. Not wanting to encourage any further insubordination Torres turned to glare at the elated crew and snapped.

"Anyone not on duty elsewhere can help Neelix clear up this mess." She ignored the grumbling noises and exhausted faces. "I want this place cleaned and shining, it's not fit for a Cardassian to eat in."

Returning her attention to the task in hand B'Elanna activated her comm badge.

"Torres to Engineering, Send someone to the mess hall with a replicator spares kit and a size five breaker circuit. Now."

She busied herself stripping out the damaged components from the replicators and it was with a jolt she realised that Seven of Nine stood over her carrying the parts she had asked for.

"What are you doing here Seven. You are supposed to be re-aligning the phaser couplings?"

"I have completed that task Lieutenant and I was intrigued to see what was more important than repairing Voyager's weapons and sensors. I did not realised the chief engineer's breakfast had such a high priority." Torres could have sworn Seven was trying not to smile. The Borg was developing a sense of humour at her expense.

"Seven we have sixteen minutes to repair two replicators and an oven. Stop jeering and start fixing." She handed Seven a tricorder and a probe spanner.

Seven nodded, still with a half smile, and turned to her task without further comment. They worked for five minutes in silence but the ex-drone's teasing rankled until B'Elanna could not resist saying "It is all very well for a half machine not to understand the importance to crew morale of good food but if your regeneration unit wasn't working then it would be a different story."

Seven of Nine glanced at her a little strangely and B'Elanna noticed how pale she was. The engineer rolled her eyes and in a ominous voice asked "When did you last regenerate Seven?"

The Borg stiffened and answered evasively "I am within my required limits and functioning adequately Lieutenant."

B'Elanna sighed with exasperation, "Seven that is not what I asked. When did you last regenerate?"

"Five days eighteen hours and 22 minutes." reported the Borg with unnecessary accuracy.

"Hell that's one hundred and thirty eight hours Seven, even the Captain has had more rest than you, well I hope she has." Shaking that thought off B'Elanna got to her feet and grasped Seven's arms, turning the Borg round to face her and really looked at her. Seven was still annoyingly beautiful but slightly haggard and definitely paler than usual and B'Elanna noticed that her hands shook slightly. B'Elanna was a little panicked and for the first time she really acknowledged to herself that Seven wasn't a mechanical drone but human and fragile. And more than that the ex-drone's welfare really mattered to her.

"Seven you're wasted, get down to Cargo Bay 2 and regenerate as soon as we are finished here, and don't tell me that you used to last longer than that as a drone, you're not a drone now."

"I cannot comply," Seven replied stiffly.

"What the hell are you saying? I am not giving you an option Seven." said Torres sounding irritated. She was baffled by the Borg's stubbornness.

"The Borg alcoves were critically damaged in the first attack. The regeneration ports are non-functional."

B'Elanna took a deep breath. "And when were you planning on telling me this?"

"There was no need to report it Lieutenant, it was insignificant compared to other priorities. You made it perfectly clear that I was not to put my needs above the ship."

"I am the Chief Engineer - all damage should be reported to me. Anyway what do you mean? You think I meant that you are expendable?" The Klingon was still holding Seven's arms and she punctuated her words by giving the Borg a little shake.

Seven gazed into the engineer's dark angry eyes. For a few seconds she allowed herself to believe the Klingon cared about more than just the breach of protocol before her rational self replied coolly enough "I will repair the damage to the alcove after the ship is secure. In the meantime I can take solid nutrients and sleep, there is no cause for concern."

"Well I think there is cause," and without really thinking B'Elanna let go of Seven's arms and cupped the beautiful face in her hands speaking very gently, "you need food and rest and you know the Doctor will have something to say about this Seven. We'll finish up here and then I am taking you to sickbay for a check up."

She could see that Seven was going to speak and quickly placed her finger on the Borg's lips, "No arguments Seven, I can't have my best engineer fall sick. I need you." Seven was going to argue when the Chief Engineer impulsively stopped her mouth with a light kiss.

Seven's eyes widened, she was not very familiar with romantic exchanges but she did know that Starfleet officers did not usually kiss each other in the normal course of duty.

B'Elanna Torres was beside herself with embarrassment, her face burning, she dropped her hands to her side and stepped back too quickly, mortified yet again by her own behaviour.

Why did I do that? What the hell is wrong with me? I don't seem to have any control when it comes to Seven. No-one seemed to have noticed the exchange but just in case, she rapidly resorted to a Klingon style cover up and slammed the counter with her fist.

"Dammit to hell, we are wasting time, we have six minutes to complete this pathetic little job, look lively Seven."

The engineer dropped to the floor to complete the installation cursing as she tried to do in six minutes what would normally take twice as long. Seven returned to programming the replicator but emotional confusion compounded with tiredness made an easy job seem hard.

Neither woman was pleased when a familiar voice interrupted. "Can I help either of you two ladies"? asked Tom Paris. "I hear you are trying to make the mess hall safe for mankind." He paused waiting for some reaction that never came, he peered at them trying to divine some connection, something that would reveal what was going on between them.

Failing he tried again. "What a great team you make, working so closely together, this last few days..."

"Tom will you shut up and help Seven to test the replicator programming, we only have a couple of minutes." B'Elanna was lying on her back tweaking the final adjustments for the makeshift oven repair. She sounded pleased as she rolled back out from under the unit saying "Okay that's it - all fixed."

Tom smiled at her and felt relief when B'Elanna sat up and smiled back at him apparently quite relaxed although she looked flushed, I must stop imagining things. he thought.

"My pleasure, O great engineer, I love a high pressure deadline, Computer I'll have a steak and fries with ketchup on the side."

To his delighted surprise the order materialised in the replicator.

"All right! That looks good."

B'Elanna sighed and he laughed. "Well you said to test it, you seem to have everything under control so I'll just settle down and eat this." And as he was really hungry and it looked really good Tom Paris wandered off to find somewhere to sit.

Seven was hardly aware of him as she leant down to help B'Elanna to her feet. Meeting her blue eyes the Klingon hesitated and then took her hand and held it, not letting go even when she was upright. They stood looking into each others eyes. Seven observed the involuntary increase in her own respiration and heart rate and then noticed that the engineer's hand felt hot and she was breathing harder also.

Still gazing at Seven, B'Elanna announced to the mess hall.

"Neelix, the emergency is over, you can stop hiding and get cooking."

She stepped a little closer to Seven and took her other hand.

Neelix approached them beaming with pleasure and gratitude.

"Good work B'Elanna, Seven, and one minute to spare." But his face registered astonished dismay, which he failed to conceal, when he took in the sight of the Chief Engineer holding hands with the tall blonde Borg, both apparently in a trance. The rumours it seemed were true. He threw a nervous glance at Tom Paris but the latter was still absorbed in his burger.

"Perhaps you two should hurry along now, the ship's weapons array awaits."

"Not yet Neelix, I have to take Seven to see the Doctor."

B'Elanna Torres had not taken her eyes away from the Borg or let go of her hands. Other crew were starting to notice and stare at them, it was only a matter of time before Tom Paris noticed also.

Neelix panicked and babbled "Nothing serious I hope Lieutenant but you had better get going, there's quite a queue to see the Doctor I believe. A very busy man the Doctor, you should hurry. You know what they say about keeping the Doctor waiting. 'A waiting Doctor cures no ills and issues no pills.' " Neelix winced and was almost grateful when a strangled gurgling interrupted him. His thankfulness evaporated when he realised the source. Tom Paris was on his feet staggering towards them pointing at Seven and clutching his throat with one hand.

"Now Mr Paris I know what you are going to say but I'm sure it's not what you think," burbled a horrified Neelix.

"She's poisoned me," gasped Tom. He pointed again at Seven.

"OK that's not what I thought you would say but Mr Paris what are you talking about?" asked Neelix flummoxed and wondering, not for the first time, why he had joined his fate with these crazed humans.

The pilot collapsed on the floor and started to bleed from his nose, writhing in pain.

Seven and B'Elanna came out of their trance and turned to stare at the fallen pilot. B'Elanna's face lost all its colour and she slowly released Seven's hands. Her strong voice wavered as she alerted the EMH.

"Torres to sickbay. Doctor I need you in the mess hall it's an emergency. It's Tom."

"Good God! Not again!. Is he trying to break some kind of record?" Irritation gave way to resignation as he continued, "well bring the little mischief in; his bed awaits B'Elanna."

"No Doc, I think it's serious. He's in agony here, poisoning apparently. I don't think we can move him."

The Doctor sounded more serious when he replied.

"All right Lieutenant I'll be right there."

B'Elanna glanced at Seven but the drone appeared completely unprepared for the turn of events and B'Elanna squashed the ridiculous suspicion that had fluttered in her consciousness for an instant. Seven returned to the replicator and rapidly began checking the programming.

She paused after a few seconds and looking utterly dismayed, said raggedly, "Ensign Paris is correct, I have poisoned him with the ketchup. I incorrectly entered the safety parameters describing the molecular structures of certain classes of organic compounds. It is my fault. I do not know how I could make such an error."

Seven's confusion and remorse was almost comical to behold and B'Elanna had to resist a sudden urge to cuddle the distressed Borg. She's so cute when flustered she thought. The chief engineer felt instantly guilty. God B'Elanna, how can you be thinking like this when Tom is lying there in pain?

B'Elanna smothered the unwelcome and obvious conclusion to that thought and turned her attention to Tom. Kneeling down she put her arms round him and whispered "I'm here, its okay Tom. The EMH is coming, you'll be fine."

Seven watched them and tried to remain impassive as the jealous pain fogged her mind. Briefly she hoped the Ensign would not recover before pushing the thought aside perturbed by her own selfishness. Love she concluded was against the interests of the collective and unworthy of her.

At that moment the Doctor materialised clutching a medikit. Thirty seconds and an injection later Tom Paris relaxed into pain free unconsciousness.


( categories: Torres/Seven )