Up-'Lifting Conversation PG-13(Few cuss words.)

[Sarah Connor]

What happens when A Half-Klingon and the Captain get stuck in a turbo-lift?

Thank you- M.C. Moose!


Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom holds all copyright, trademark, and patent rights to Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager, and all original characters of those series. No infringement of those rights is intended or implied by their use in this story.


Time Frame: Early in the Fifth Year of the Journey


"Remind me to never, ever, take you away from main engineering when we start to experience system failures. Why the hell did I think I should bring you to the bridge?"

"Maybe because all the failures were initially localized to that area. Maybe because you couldn't anticipate the problem cascading into a shipwide shutdown. Maybe because Chakotay specifically asked you to... What? What's so funny?"

"You. Me. Us. If anyone told me four years ago that *you* would be providing the voice of reason in our conversations, I'd never have believed it. Hell, if our journey takes long enough, I'll probably have Seven quoting me Starfleet protocol by the end. She could start by advising me that captains aren't supposed to curse on duty."

"Blame it on the heat. It's harder on Humans."

"Yes, but low oxygen is harder on Klingons."

"I'll be okay. There's enough airflow... barely. Just don't start performing calisthenics."

"Trust me, that is the one possible course of action that never crossed my mind. I'd stop talking, but it wouldn't save much air. And I need to keep my mind off the heat. Jesus, it *is* hot."

"Yeah, well, that plasma arcing outside the emergency hatch isn't a very attractive alternative. I guess we have our choice: baked or fried."

"We'd better stick to baked. I understand it's much healthier than fried... Speaking of healthy, I think we're going to miss our weekly coffee-and-decadent-dessert break today."

"Damn. I demand a rain-check."

"Most definitely. Still, no reason we can't catch up. So... how's work?"

"Well, other than the fact that I'm stuck in a overheated turbolift with a commanding officer whose language gets raunchier and humor gets stranger as the temperature rises, fine I guess. Oh, except for the small fact that all the systems linked through the ship's bioneural circuitry are going haywire. Again. Just who designed that lovely piece of Starfleet engineering, anyway?"

"Some very clever Vulcan scientists who didn't fully appreciate the difference between theoretical plausibility and technical feasibility. We were still working out some system bugs in the last week before our mission to the Badlands. And I'm quite sure those clever designers didn't anticipate Voyager being relocated to the Delta Quadrant; those gel packs have been exposed to a host of novel infectious agents, ones they were never inoculated against."

"Like Neelix's cheese, for God's sake. These 'clever' Vulcan designers, Captain... can you give me their names?"

"If I do, will I be an accessory to murder?"

“Maybe. But I'm sure the court will rule justifiable homicide. For over four years now, that goddamned bioneural circuitry and those bag-of-*beep* gelpacks have been the bane of my existence! I’m the first chief engineer in the history of Starfleet who’s had to depend on the chief medical officer to keep a starship operational.”

“Well, I’m the first captain in the history of Starfleet who’s had to depend on the chief engineer to keep the chief medical officer operational. Weird is, I’m afraid, a *major* part of the job here in the Delta Quadrant. However this long, strange trip turns out, it's definitely going to be one for the books.”

"Huh. You actually think about that, don't you?"

"What?"

"How people, how *history* will regard what we do out here."

"Yes, I suppose I do. Oh, I don't obsess about it. In fact, I actually think about it less than I used to. But it's sort of drilled into us in Command School. Much of the curriculum is based on case studies, you know. And not just the noble successes, like in the Academy leadership courses. In Command School, they review all the grand failures, the royal screw-ups. So if nothing else, you're imbued with the lofty ambition to avoid becoming the prime-case example of how *not* to captain a starship."

"Well, I wouldn't worry, Captain. I'm sure your place in obscurity is secure."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, for that resounding vote of confidence."

"Anytime, Captain... Captain... you know I was kidding, I hope. I didn't mean to imply..."

"Huh, oh, sorry. I was just thinking... I did actually once worry about such things a lot more than I do now. Now I think I realize that there are too many Starfleet captains, Starfleet admirals, whose lives read far better than they lived... I realize I don't want that to happen to me."

"Is Tom's father one of those people? Captain?"

"Yes. I'm afraid Owen may very well be a case in point... B'Elanna, what was in his letter to Tom?

"Uh, what letter?"

"Owen Paris' letter. The one that came over the alien array. The one between the successful transmissions of letters to Ensigns Wildman and Kim."

"Oh... that one."

"B'Elanna, I'd never tell Tom. I trust your judgment. But one day, I may need to face Owen as well. What did he say?"

"Well, it wasn't that terrible. Not really, I guess. Mainly how he hoped Tom realized what an amazing second chance he'd been given. How he couldn't be serving under a better captain. How he'd better not screw things up again. It just... it just seemed so cold and judgmental, though, you know? I mean, here's this one chance to say something to his son, the son he thought was dead, for Christ's sake, and the best the man can do is 'don't screw up'!? I just didn't think Tom needed to hear that *beep*... Sorry, Captain... I know you admire Tom's father."

"There's a good deal to admire in Owen Paris as a Starfleet officer. That part of his life, well, it certainly reads very well. As a father... as a husband, I think there're probably some rather severe shortcomings. I never forgave him for disowning Tom the way he did. I still can't... Everything else, I can accept. But not that."

"Everything else?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you can forgive everything else..."

"Oh. Nothing really. Just Starfleet politics... B'Elanna, I think you did the right thing with Owen's letter... what's good for Tom... You're good for Tom. He's lucky to have you."

"We're lucky to have each other. I wasn't sure you approved, though."

"What? Why would you think that?"

"Well, the way you called us on the carpet..."

"Wait a minute. Over a year ago, in a dopamine-induced frenzy, I suggested it just might be inappropriate for the two of you to be humping like thunder-bunnies at your duty stations. And from that you concluded I didn't approve of your relationship? Jesus, Lieutenant, cut me a little slack here."

"It's just that your opinion means a lot to, well, to both of us."

"Then consider yourselves bestowed with the captain's official blessing. Really, B'Elanna, I'm very happy you two found each other. Somewhat amazed, I must admit... but still, pleased. Very pleased."

"Thank you. Really. And you're right... it is amazing that we even got together. Especially since I thought he was such a pig."

"What changed your mind?"

"That horrible Pon farr thing with Vorik. Oh, there were some other earlier signs that Tom might actually be a decent person... like when we were the Vidiians' prisoners. But the way Tom behaved down in the caves when I was, well, throwing myself at him. I never suspected that he respected me, cared about me, that much... uh, Captain, what are you doing?"

"Just taking some clothes off. Please... continue."

"Um, well, I really didn't think the story was *that* exciting."

"Don't flatter yourself, Lieutenant. Or Tom. I just think we can dismiss with these useless layers of Starfleet issue. Jesus, whoever came up with these turtlenecks!?"

"I thought Starfleet uniforms were designed to be comfortable in all climates."

"*beep*. Okay, if you need to be covered from neck to toe, they do a pretty good job of keeping you comfortable. They were even bearable to wear on Vulcan, I'll give them that. But this lift is even hotter than Vulcan, and a damn sight more humid. You'll forgive me, Lieutenant, if I don't stand on formalities."

"Captain, you can sit on formalities for all I care. Okay if I join you?"

"By all means. And do continue with your story. You were being charmed by Tom's gallantry."

"Yeah. I was. I mean... most Human guys are always so curious. Jeez, from the time I hit puberty I was always the focus of *that* kind of attention. The mysterious half-Klingon, you know? And Tom seemed like just another thrill-seeker. But then there he was, refusing to take advantage of the situation. I thought at the very least I'd have to put up with his juvenile attempts at humor afterwards, but even then he was very considerate, amazingly sensitive... for a pig."

"Tom puts up a lot of fronts, layers upon layers of defenses. God knows, when I interviewed him in New Zealand, I was about ready to slap his arrogant face. But underneath it all, he's a very good man. And he's shed a lot of his protective facade; you've helped him there, I think... So that's when you two got together?"

"God, Captain, you really don't get out much, do you? No, we still danced around each other for a while. But when we were adrift in our environmental suits, running out of air, well... for once I wanted to be honest with him. I didn't want to be a coward. So I told him I loved him."

"And he told you he felt the same?"

"No. The pig. But he made it clear later. And when I got back from that away mission with the Doctor, the one with that hologram-from-hell, that's when we, uh, got together."

"Yes, well, nothing like a couple near-brushes with death to refocus your priorities."

"Is that what happened with you and Chakotay?"

"You know, I believe it's gotten even hotter. It must be 45 degrees in here, don't you think?"

"They're probably heat-purging the circuitry. And we don't have enough ventilation to dissipate it... Captain, if you don't want to talk about it..."

"No, it's not that. And it's hardly fair for me to ask you to be open and then clam up in return. It's just... well, everything always seems so complicated when I try to talk about this. It's not like Chakotay and I are trying to hide our relationship; it's not like we're trying to flaunt it either. We're just trying to let it be, let it happen."

"But when you were on New Earth, I mean, well, a lot of us sort of assumed... okay, not a lot, but some... oh, God..."

"Let me help you out. No. We didn't. We would have, given more time. The first couple of months, well, I wasn't open to the possibility. I wasn't open to much of anything about the planet. I was convinced I'd find a cure, convinced we'd rejoin Voyager. But then there was a huge plasma storm, destroyed all my experimental equipment... God, I was so devastated. But finally, I accepted. We were staying on New Earth. So I became... open to possibilities. We decided to take things slowly; God knows, we didn't want to screw things up. And Chakotay was still badly wounded from everything Seska had put him through. Jesus, that... woman did such horrible things to him. And I was still accepting losing Mark. We weren't kids, B'Elanna; we both were carrying a lot of baggage. Yet at the same time, you know, we *were* kids; we were enjoying discovering each other in this new light, the thrill of courtship. It was tremendous fun. And we had this wonderful release in knowing there wasn't a single duty, not a single person we were neglecting by pursuing our time together. Lord, it was such a glorious indulgence, such a wonderful luxury. And we had all the time... all the time in the world."

"Until Voyager came back and got you."

"Oh, B'Elanna. You make it sound like a prison sentence. It really wasn't. But it was a shock. Overwhelming, really. We handled it... well, we handled it badly. Both of us did. Each in our own way. It wasn't until later, much later, that we tried again. After the letters from home, after almost losing the ship to the Hirogen. Remember the mystery letter? Turns out it was from my sister. Some of the things in it, well, the details don't matter. But it gave me a lot to think about. And it helped me realize how much I loved Chakotay, how much I truly needed him. Yes, as a friend and first officer, but also as more. So I went to talk with him... woke him up in the middle of the night, as I recall. Again, we took things kind of slow, at least at first..."

"At first... so what happened? I can't remember any 'brush with death'... oh God, it wasn't when you ended up in Tom's body, was it?"

"Jesus, B'Elanna, I think you must get out too much! No, it wasn't the incident with Steth, although now that you mention it, maybe it was fortunate that Chakotay and I weren't lovers then. Talk about adding a new dimension to the infamous Chakotay/Paris dynamic! God, I never thought about that!"

"Okay, okay... it's not that funny. Trust me, it wasn't funny to realize it was that creepy alien coming on to me in Tom's body. So tell me, oh wise captain, what was the catalyst?"

"Wisdom had nothing to do with it. Truth is, I was jealous."

"Jealous? Of who? Whom. Whatever."

"Of myself. My clone. Whatever."

"No, you've lost me."

"On the demon planet, B'Elanna. After we allowed ourselves to be cloned... you were one of the last to be cloned. Did you find the decision hard?"

"No, I found it easy. I didn't want to be cloned."

"Why ever not?"

"I... haven't had the happiest of lives, Captain. And I haven't always liked living... with myself. I couldn't see the point of creating another me to be miserable."

"Setting aside that being a ridiculous idea, what changed your mind?"

"Not what, who. Tom. Actually, Toms. Alpha and Beta Tom double-teamed me. Both insisted how meaningless his life, their lives, would be without me. Without her. You know what I mean."

"So you relented."

"Yeah, in the end."

"Hmm. Did you spend much time with her? Your clone? 'Beta B'Elanna'?"

"God, see? I even saddled her with a horrible name! No. It was too weird. I think it was worse than facing my Klingon self."

"Yes, it's bizarre to deal with yourself. I've done it twice now. The strangest thing is how you know exactly what she's thinking. Because, of course, it's exactly what you'd be thinking. There's no possibility of dissemblence. It was bad enough arguing with the other Janeway over which Voyager to destroy. But on the demon planet, watching Beta Kathryn with her Chakotay, well, it was both painful and embarrassing. I felt like a voyeur."

"She wanted him, huh?"

"'Thunder-bunny' doesn't come close to doing her justice, I'm afraid. Oh, she was willing to have the courtesy to wait until Voyager left, but she was damned eager for us to get the hell off her planet! It reminded me of Mark's stories of how the first year students would arrive at the university with their parents: how the parents would hover and linger; how the students would be dying for their parents to leave so that the debauchery could begin! God, I felt like the unwanted parent."

"I do seem to recall our making a rather hasty exit."

"Hmm. As rapid as safety protocols would allow. But later, as I thought about her, I realized aspects of her situation I truly envied. I'm not sure what kind of society that crew will create, but it was obvious she was *not* going to be their 'captain.' She might help to lead, might be one of the leaders, but not *the* leader. And there was going to be a lot more to her life than leading. That 'lot more' was going to start with Chakotay. Her Chakotay."

"Captain Thunder-Bunny. Sorry, it's the thin air--I get a bit giddy. Please... I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, the whole situation's absurd. I was jealous of my clone's freedom, her ability to freely pursue... oh hell, her ability to simply be with the man she loved. And I realized, and this is what scared me, B'Elanna: I realized that if I continued to wait for just the right moment, for when the ship was secure, for when I was sure the crew would accept us... if I continued to wait, *I* would become the reflection, the shadow: I would be the lesser version of myself. God, B'Elanna, does any of this make any sense?... I was tired of being less; I wanted to be more. I wanted us, Chakotay and me, to be more. I wanted us to be together. Whole. Finally."

"So your courtship was finally, uh, consummated."

"Hmm, yes. And I don't know if I should be embarrassed that it took only a month or that it took over four years."

"I don't think you should be embarrassed at all. About any of it."

"Thank you, B'Elanna. To quote a certain chief engineer, your opinion means a lot to me. It means a lot to us."

"Well, I should certainly hope so. Seriously, I think you and Chakotay are very good for each other. I've already told him how lucky he is to have you."

"I'm lucky to have him. I haven't felt this happy, this... centered since... well, I don't know if I've ever been. It's a wonderful gift I've been given. Chakotay's given me. And I'm at a point in my life where I can truly appreciate how precious this gift truly is. I've not... well, fate hasn't been exactly kind regarding this part of my life... End of confessional. Most uncaptain-like behavior. Sorry, B'Elanna. I blame it on the heat."
"You don't have to apologize, Captain. We're just talking. Even Starfleet has to permit that... Don't they?"

"You'd be surprised, B'Elanna. Starfleet's pretty specific about where captains should direct their comments. Gripes are supposed to go up, not down. Personal discussions, well, it's never been clear to me where they're supposed to go. To families and friends, other captains... maybe senior officers."

"That doesn't give you many options. We're pretty far removed from families, from friends. As for senior officers, I'd think it'd be pretty weird to talk to Chakotay *about* Chakotay. And it'd be weird to talk to Tuvok about anything. Anything personal, I mean."

"Hmm. I gave up with Tuvok after two tries. I sure he's most grateful. It's funny though... I've actually had some fairly intimate conversations with T'Pel. His wife. So I think it's more than just a cultural impediment; I think his sense of protocol must color things. But then, of course, he's aware of everything T'Pel and I have discussed. It's a strange friendship we have. Interesting... infinitely rewarding... but definitely strange. I suspect he feels the same way. Well, not 'feels,' of course. Holds the same opinion."

"God, how *do* you talk with him? Whatever do you talk about?"

"I don't know, B'Elanna... we talk about everything. Just not feelings. He can actually be quite a gossip; I find out a lot about what's going on with the crew from him."

"Like when Tom and I got together? Seems to me you need some better sources, Captain."

"Probably so. Chakotay's pretty well attuned, but it's much harder to wheedle information from him. He tends to steer the conversation to other subjects... doesn't want to *burden* me with crew matters."

"Well, there's always Neelix."

"Yes, there certainly is. What's the old engineering expression..."

"'Low signal to noise, with strong distortion filters?'"

"Not the one I had in mind, but I like it... more polite, too."

"The Doctor is outside the chain-of-command... so is Seven."

"And you're suggesting meaningful heart-to-hearts with...?"

"Oh. Right. Never mind. So what's so wrong with Lieutenants?"

"Absolutely nothing. Why, I was one myself, as I recall. But it is complicated, *Lieutenant*. Even more so than back in the Alpha Quadrant. In some ways, it was easier to make friends with the less senior officers there. Tuvok and I became friends while he was still an ensign. Granted, he was a hundred-year-old ensign, but still an ensign. And Stadi. God, I wish you could have known her. Could she have been at the Academy with you? A Betazoid?"

"Stadi? I don't think so. At least not that I remember. I didn't really mix with my classmates very much."

"You would have liked her, I think. Very insightful, very... well, let's just say she never suffered *beep* gladly. Although she did put up with me. And she thought Tom was okay."

"She knew Tom?"

"Not like that, B'Elanna. I sent her to pick him up from the penal colony. I wanted her opinion-- she was able to see past facades, of course."

"And she thought Tom was okay?"

"Yes. Oh, a pig, of course... But okay."

"Yeah. I probably would have liked her. She was your friend?"

"Stadi was my friend. Somehow rank never seemed an issue."

"Maybe it could be less of one for us."

"I'd like that. I think we have grown closer with time."

"Sure. It's been years since I wanted to kill you... I'm kidding!"

"Well, at least Chakotay kept you from taking a swing at me. I wasn't so lucky with Seven."

"So, see? I really am the good daughter!"

"Christ, I wish the two of you would stop flailing at each other long enough to realize how much you could accomplish together."

"The two of us? Work together? We tried that, Captain. I ended up floating in space, chasing a rogue warp core. Thanks, but I think I'll take a pass on another attempt."

"She has a lot of useful knowledge. She could contribute some very innovative ideas."

"And she could contribute some really half-assed ones. And she doesn't seem able to tell the difference. All of them are 'superior technology' in her mind."

"That's why I need you two working as a team. You can vet her ideas, refine them, make them work with Starfleet systems. Otherwise, you get to live with bioneural circuitry and gel packs for another fifty-five years."

"This ship is just full of attractive alternatives, isn't it?... Do you really think it's possible to retrofit a transwarp drive onto Voyager?"

"Transwarp, slipstream... I don't know what's feasible. That's what I need the two of you to figure out."

"I'd have to be in charge."

"Of course you'd be the lead. You're chief engineer. Seven respects you."

"Like hell."

"She does, B'Elanna... Lieutenant, snorting at your captain is not polite. Look, do you think Seven respects me?"

"If she respects anyone on Voyager, it's you. And maybe Tuvok."

"Do you think she's ever told me, or Tuvok, that she respects us? Do you think she's let us know that in any way?"

"Well..."

"Like hell. B'Elanna, you must realize how insecure Seven really is. In many ways, we're really dealing with a scared child. A savant, perhaps. But a child savant... Help me mentor her. I think it would prove worthwhile for everyone involved. And frankly, I could use the break; she does exhaust me."

"Okay... I'm willing to give it a try. But I'm the lead. And if she even touches my engines without permission, you'll be mopping nanoprobes off the floor of engineering from here to the Alpha Quadrant."

"How could I possibly refuse such a gracious offer? I'll have her come by to talk with you tomorrow... ASSUMING WE GET OFF THIS DAMNED LIFT BY THEN!!!"

"I really don't think anyone can hear you, Captain."

"Nonsense. You just did... You know, old-fashioned sea vessels had talking tubes connecting the bridge to the engine room, other critical stations. If this gel pack problem persists, perhaps we should consider a retrofit."

"I'll have Seven get right on it... Kidding!! I'm kidding. She'd probably just want to link us all to a collective; far more efficient communication."

"Maybe if we bang our boots against the wall..."

"Well, if it makes you feel better. I really doubt anyone would hear. And it's a bit too close to calisthenics for my taste."

"Point taken... Okay, then, so what are we going to do once we get out of this... lovely little room?"

"Gosh, I don't know. Probably go to sickbay. Assuming that's working."

"I think you're missing the point here, B'Elanna. What wonderful thing are we going to do to compensate for this... adventure."

"Oh. Oh, I get it. Okay, the holodeck. Something wet. Maybe the beach resort."

"Too hot. I say Lake George."

"Okay, Lake George. Water-skiing."

"Fine. You ski, I'll drive the boat. And swim. And drink iced coffee."

"Iced coffee. It figures. Let's see... hot coffee, iced coffee, coffee ice cream, coffee brownies, coffee candy... is there anything you *can't* do with coffee."

"Not in my experience. The possibilities are, well, I believe the proper mathematical term is 'countably infinite.'"

"Okay, iced coffee. So long as it's really, really cold... Right."

"This isn't working, is it?"

"What?"

"This isn't making us feel any less hot or any less miserable, is it?"

"No, not really."

"Damn. It used to work. When I was growing up in Indiana, I used to spend summers daydreaming about how good it would feel to play in the snow. And in the winters, I'd think about playing tennis in the mid-day sun. Of course, I'd mainly take advantage of climate-controlled environments. My mother used to say I was too much a child of the 24th century, had no ability to acclimate. When I told her I was going to spend several terms on Vulcan, she just laughed out loud. I think she was afraid I'd melt."

"My mother felt the same way. I tolerate heat better than Humans, but not as well as a full-blooded Klingon. When we visited her home world, I practically wilted. At least Vulcan is a dry heat."

"Because we all know: it ain't the heat..."

"It's the humidity! And, hey, we have plenty of both."

"It *is* amazing how much moisture two humanoids can pump into the air in an hour."

"Well, Captain, I won't be pumping much more. I don't think there's much left in my body at this point."

"Are you all right, B'Elanna?" *Janeway to the bridge!* "Damn. Still out."

"It's okay. I'm fine... No problem... Mom would be proud."

"I'm sure she would be."

"Yeah, right."

"B'Elanna, you know she would, don't you? And your father, too. Don't you think?"

"I don't know. I never knew what pleased them... Either of them... I gave up trying to figure it out."

"Well, they should be proud of the woman you've become."

"I'm not sure. Some of the things I've done... Captain, do you regret things you've done?"

"Do you want a list? B'Elanna, we've all done things we later regret. But at the time we do them, they seem the best option available; often they are. Sometimes the regret results from knowledge we gain only after the fact. And I've learned two things about regretting past actions. The first is that sometimes when we think we made a bad decision, it turns out the decision was never really ours to make at all... never was..."

"And the second?"

"Huh?"

"The second. You said there were two things."

"Oh. The second is something I learned from Q. Well, from Q's visit. Let me start over. After Q's first visit, I decided I'd better read up on all of Starfleet's encounters with him. I was particularly struck by one account from Jean-Luc Picard's personal log. The writing, the style and tone, was hardly one I'd associate with Picard; his reports are always so dry and objective... It seems Q visited Picard after the captain had a near-fatal accident. It was interesting because Picard wasn't certain whether or not Q was actually there; it might have all been some kind of near-death experience."

"Oh, those are always fun. Imagine having one with Q."

"I think I'd rather have another go with the matrix alien. Anyway, Picard's injury was life-threatening because of his artificial heart; apparently, he'd gotten a heart replacement after some barroom fight when he was a young man. Q offered Picard the opportunity to go back and relive the experiences of his youth, to avoid the fight that cost him his heart, and hence later his life. So Picard took Q up on the offer, did things differently the second time around. The fight never happened. Picard awoke to find himself healthy and well, serving as a j.g. lieutenant in the Science Department on the Enterprise. Apparently, he had become a man unable to take risks, unwilling to seize the initiative. That barroom fight had severely cost him, but it'd also provided him with a firm sense of purpose, a strong drive for achievement. Picard pleaded with Q to return him to the life he'd had before, insisted he'd rather die than live that pallid life."

"So did Q help him?"

"Well, as I said, Picard wasn't certain whether Q was really there or not. But the captain felt himself returned to the barroom confrontation, and chose to play it out his original way. He was stabbed in the back by some Nausicaan, and came to in the sickbay of the Enterprise. It could have all been a hallucination. But the lesson Picard drew from it was valid in either case: we are the sum of our experiences. We can't change what we've done without changing who we are. I like who you are, B'Elanna."

"Thank you, Captain. I... like some of what I am. Not all of it."

"Well, I can't see anything that needs changing. But if you do, that's what you should focus on. Change that. Don't try to change your past. You can't. You really can't, believe me."

"Hmm... You know, Captain, I think Chakotay's story-telling talent is starting to rub off on you."

"Me? You must be joking. Chakotay's gift with words, well, he just moves me to tears sometimes, you know? He must find me so inarticulate... it's so hard for me to find words for my feelings the way he does. He says things sometime, well... he just leaves me stunned."

"I know. I mean, he never spoke to me like... oh hell, you know what I mean. But he would say thing to us, in the Maquis cell, that were so moving, so inspiring. I guess I had a bit of a crush on him for a while. But, of course, there was Seska..."

"God, could we talk about anything but her? Please?"

"Sure. I just meant, well, I was never seriously interested in Chakotay... I didn't want you to think..."

"It's okay, B'Elanna. I know Chakotay loves you very much. But I don't think he ever considered it a romantic love. Still, it's quite profound, you know."

"I... I guess I hoped he cared about me."

"He does. Very much so. And from day one he's gone to bat for you, been your advocate. You know he's the one who convinced me you deserved to be chief engineer."

"You wanted Carey."

"I did. I was wrong. Thank God Chakotay was so adamant. He kept me from making a major mistake."

"Carey's a good engineer."

"Oh, Carey's a fine engineer. He'd do a great job on any ship in the Alpha Quadrant. But we're not in the Alpha Quadrant. We're here. And we don't need 'fine.' We need 'inspired.' We need 'exceptional.' You have an impossible job, B'Elanna, and you do it amazingly well. And you put up with me. I was very lucky to get you as chief engineer. Chakotay made me lucky, against my better judgment."

"I'm lucky to have the job. To be given the chance... I never imagined... chief engineer on a federation starship. I'm... I'm very fortunate."

"Even with the bioneural circuitry."

"Yeah."

"Even with the gel-packs."

"Yeah."

"Even with Seven."

"Captain... you're pushing it."

"You really should call me Kathryn."

"We're technically on-duty."

"Fine. How about when we're off-duty?"

"Well, it's still a bit awkward. I mean... when are we really off-duty? I'm always calling you during your off-shift... you're always calling me..."

"How about when we're on the holodeck? That's a pretty clear non-duty situation."

"Yeah, that should work... Damn, I think we must have lost some airflow. It's really hard to breath. So let me think... You can be Kathryn in the holodeck... Okay... But what if we're working in the holodeck?"

"B'Elanna..."

"Or... what if we're in the holodeck, off-duty and all, but there's a malfunction and I have to fix it..."

"B'Elanna..."

"So, then, technically, I'm off-duty, but I'm functioning like I'm on-duty..."

"B'Elanna, I think you're hypoventilating... you should probably stop talking..."

"Right. You're right, Captain... Kathryn... no, that's the holodeck... I mean... for the holo... deck..."

"B'Elanna... B'Elanna?... Great, Lieutenant, just great... the one time I can best you in a physical contest... and the prize is to remain conscious... in a stuffy... overheated turbolift..." *Janeway to the bridge...* "Damn... Come on... how long does it take... get *something* back on line... " *Janeway to the bridge...* "*beep*... come on, Carey... Vorik..." *Janeway to engineering...* "no, Kathryn, not engineering... bridge has comm system priority..." *Janeway to the bridge*

*Chakotay here. Captain, where are you? We expected you and B'Elanna on the bridge over an hour ago.*

*The lieutenant and I are stuck in Turbolift 1, we think between Decks 2 and 3... Can you get the 'lift moving? We're losing air...*

*Captain, are you all right? How's B'Elanna?*

*I'm okay... B'Elanna passed out a couple of minutes ago... I'll go... check her pulse... Can you beam us out?*

*Transporters are still off-line, but we should have the 'lifts back any minute. Just hold on.*

*Okay... But expedience... is greatly appreciated...B'Elanna seems stable... maybe medic.....*

*Captain? Captain?*
Tuvok had re-routed operations functions to his tactical station when Kim left the bridge for engineering. "Commander, engineering reports full environmental sensors and controls are back on-line." With calm satisfaction, the Vulcan observed the displays indicating additional systems returning to normal function. "And we now have turbolift capability. Transporters are recharging; they will be functional in 2.3 minutes."

Tom Paris was the third member of the skeleton crew that remained on the bridge. All other bridge personnel were assisting in engineering or had evacuated to the cargo bays. Paris stood at the turbolift door with Chakotay, medkit in hand. Chakotay continued to jab at the turbolift call button; Tuvok refrained from reminding the commander that such repeated inputs would not hasten the system's response. "What's the temperature in the 'lift?" Chakotay called over to Tuvok.

"It is down to 48 degrees Celsius. Oxygen levels are returning to normal."

*Down* to 48 degrees? "Jesus," Paris muttered. He opened the medkit and started preparing hyposprays. Chakotay was bouncing on the balls of his feet as the turbolift door swished open. A wave of stale, humid air washed onto the bridge.

Chakotay and Paris froze in their tracks at the sight of the two women sprawled on the floor. After crawling over to check on Torres, Janeway had collapsed on top of her. Both were dressed in only tank tops and panties; their other clothes were strewn about the small compartment. Both women's hair was disheveled, their features flushed from the heat. Janeway’s right arm draped about Torres’ head. The tableau gave the appearance of a pair of spent lovers, locked in a post-coital embrace.

Noticing that neither man had entered the turbolift, Tuvok called over to them. "Gentlemen, do you require my assistance?"

"No!" the two men responded in unison. But their feet were still frozen to the bridge floor. Seconds passed.

Tom recovered first. He moved quickly to check the two women’s vital signs and administer emergency aid. "Paris to sickbay. Doctor, prepare to receive the captain and Lt. Torres. Both are suffering from heat stress and mild hypoxemia. I've administered injections to stablize electrolyte levels, but rehydration is required."

Chakotay had likewise mobilized. After separating the two women to optimize transporter function, he called for an emergency beam-out. As the transporter whine faded, the two men stared at each other for a moment. They then slowly began collecting the clothing and boots scattered about the lift.

Their task complete, Chakotay turned and surveyed the small room. “Well. Were the circumstances not so dire, I could have found that scene evocative of a pretty, uh, hot fantasy.”

"Speak for yourself, Commander," Paris replied tartly. Was that indignation Chakotay heard in his voice? Thinking he should perhaps apologize, the older man turned to the younger, only to see a boyish grin break out on the Lieutenant's face. "I think I can work just fine with the material we've been given!"

Chakotay snatched a bra from Paris' bundle. “That’s the captain’s!” he admonished.

“Sorry,” Paris offered. But Chakotay suspected he really wasn’t. The pig.


THE END

[Tech]

Whoa... I'm speechless. It's good, but it's very long, y'know?

[Voy_Girl]

I didn't quite understand... Is this written by you or M.C. Moose?

[janewaykat]

It's written by MC Moose i've read it on their website

[Voy_Girl]

[Josi Rockholt]

That was good.