Trials 03 Torres' Trial Read online

  TRIALS THREE: TORRES' TRIALS

  By Terri Zavaleta

  Disclaimer: Paramount owns the entire Star Trek Universe and all the

  characters within it---except for the ones the fans have created.

  This story and Shadow and Dishon are mine. Ethan Simms, Janine

  Lamont, and Mikel Hudson are inventions of the PT Collective. This

  story is for fun, not profit, and its purpose to provide an outlet

  for creativity.

  ****************************

  TORRES' TRIALS

  by Terri Zavaleta

  Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres of the Federation Starship

  Voyager was not in a very good mood. She wasn't even sure she'd

  recognize a good mood. It had been over six weeks since she'd had one

  that lasted more than twenty minutes. That was when she'd decided to

  stop seeing Tom Paris socially. Though they'd since mutually decided

  that had been a mistake, things still weren't quite the same as

  before.

  She peered through a microscope at a burned, melted piece of

  material and muttered several Klingon curses and epithets under her

  breath. It was at times like these she was glad that no one else in

  Engineering spoke Klingon. That meant she didn't have to censor

  herself.

  "There's nothing left to look at!" she grumbled, sitting back in

  her chair.

  Lieutenant Joe Carey looked up from his work at a nearby

  console, unsure if she was addressing him or continuing her

  monologue.

  She waved a hand at him. "Nothing. I can't tell a thing from

  looking at the power couplings after they've fused. We're no closer

  to solving this than we were two weeks ago."

  The problem had first come to their attention with a minor

  disaster. From evidence pieced together by Carey, a power coupling

  had fused, causing a short which caused a power converter to overload

  which in turn ignited a plasma leak---all of which resulted in a hull

  breach in Cargo Bay 1---resulting in injury to Crewman Gerron,

  Crewman Shadow, and Lieutenant Tom Paris, and causing the death of

  Crewman Niko Dishon. Since that time, power couplings all over the

  ship had been giving up the ghost at a higher rate than was normal

  for obsolescence to be a factor.

  Two weeks later, B'Elanna Torres and her crew were no closer to

  solving the riddle. It annoyed her. And her frustration with being

  unable to resolve the problem, resulted in her bad mood. She sighed

  deeply. Her mind had been hashing and rehashing every possible

  technical foul-up that could cause failure or overload in the power

  couplings. She was fresh out of ideas. So was the rest of her staff.

  She glanced carelessly at the chronometer, then snapped to

  attention. She had a date with Tom Paris in less than thirty

  minutes. She'd gotten busy and lost track of time---as usual.

  "Carey, think of something! The power couplings are critical!"

  "Working on it, Lieutenant," her chief assistant replied calmly,

  used to such outbursts by now. He returned his attention to his own

  station.

  She dashed out of Engineering, heading straight for her

  quarters. She could use a little relaxation with the charming

  helmsman of Voyager. Kahless knew she needed to get her mind off

  those lousy power couplings! And her relationship with Tom was the

  only positive note in the last six weeks. They were growing closer,

  getting to know each other beyond the superficial. Or at least she

  hoped they were.

  Sometimes she felt that Tom was holding her at arm's length,

  letting her get only so close---but not too close. Except physically.

  Physically, they were very affectionate with each other. And very

  compatible. Though they hadn't taken the physical side of their

  relationship too far. Each of them was half afraid to become

  intimate---it would change their relationship irrevocably.

  Torres wasn't sure how to interpret his behavior. It was as if

  Tom was distancing himself from her emotionally, but wanted her

  physically close. Sometimes she even felt he was using displays of

  affection to distract her---to keep her from getting too close

  emotionally.

  The idea bothered her. Maybe she should talk to him about it?

  Again.

  **********************

  Walter Baxter was standing outside Cargo Bay One looking

  distressed when Ensign George Natwick came striding by on his way to

  work out in the gym. Baxter needed advice from someone and Natwick

  was the only one in sight. Slight help was better than no help at

  all. "George! I need to ask you something."

  "What?"

  "Listen, I know you're kind of a friend of hers so you might

  know---."

  "Get to the point, Baxter. I want to work out before I start my

  new class this evening," Natwick growled, restlessly flicking his

  towel at the wall.

  "Well, Malista Shadow came into the Cargo Bay a little while

  ago, and she seemed to be fine. She was working on a cargo lifter one

  minute, the next minute I turn around and she's sitting on the floor

  crying. I don't know what to do. I tried to talk to her, but she just

  ignored me. Who should I call? Sickbay? Commander Chakotay? He's been

  counseling her. The captain? Who should I call?"

  "Baxter, you just don't have a clue. Don't you listen to the

  ship's gossip? It's Beta shift right? He should be off duty by now."

  Natwick slapped his commbadge. "Ensign Natwick to Ensign Kim."

  "Kim here. Go ahead." From the background noise, Harry Kim was

  in the turbolift.

  "Kim, you're needed in Cargo Bay One. As soon as possible."

  "Needed for what?"

  Natwick replied, "Malista's down here and pretty upset

  according to Baxter."

  "Be right there! Kim out." He must have rerouted the turbolift.

  He was at the Cargo Bay doors in less than two minutes.

  Baxter and Natwick were still standing in the corridor. Natwick

  handed Kim a box of tissues he'd procured from a nearby storage

  facility. "You'll probably need these, little one," he said and

  walked away with his usual strut.

  "Thanks, George!" Kim stared with surprise at the tissues. Just

  when he was ready to write Natwick off as a Neanderthal, insensitive

  jerk---he'd do something thoughtful---then he'd ruin it by taking a

  potshot at Kim. Who could figure this guy out? Aw, who wanted to!

  Harry brushed by Baxter and into the Cargo Bay. He found Malista

  sitting cross-legged on the floor near the outside bulkhead. She was

  rocking back and forth, her face covered by her hands, as she cried

  silently, sobs racking her body. She was facing the patched place on

  the bulkhead. The exact place where a hull breach had caused the

  death of her best friend, Niko Dishon, and had almost killed Malista,

  Tom Paris, and Gerron.

  "Malista," he said softly, to announce his presence and avoid
<
br />   startling her. She didn't respond. Harry let himself down on the

  floor next to her, slipping his arm around her back. As soon as he

  touched her, she threw her arms around him and rested her head on his

  chest as she sobbed. The hand on her back patted gently. With the

  other hand, he presented the box of tissues. She seized a few and

  began mopping her face and blowing her nose.

  After a few minutes of this, the tears slowed to a trickle. She

  tried hiding her face behind her shoulder-length hair. "I must l-l-

  look awful," she stuttered soggily. "And I g-g-got your uniform all

  w-w-wet!"

  "That's okay. Now, want to talk about it?" Harry said calmly.

  She closed her eyes. "Not really. I think---it all just caught

  up with me. Niko--- I don't think I even cried for him before. When I

  came in here---"

  "The first time since the accident?" Kim prompted gently.

  "Yes. I know it's been almost two months---"

  "Time doesn't matter when it comes to grieving," he said. "A lot

  of people can't or don't react at the time of the death. They're in

  shock or having to cope with other things. When you lose someone you

  care about---any little thing can remind you---and all of a sudden,

  you feel just as bad as when it first happened."

  She blinked up at him, her dark green eyes glistening like rain-

  drenched leaves. "How did you know?"

  He smiled faintly. "I've been through it myself. When my

  grandmother died.

  She was very special to me. Two years after her funeral, I walked

  into a bakery and caught the scent of gingerbread---and I wanted to

  cry because I knew she'd---that's when I finally realized--- she was

  really gone. She wouldn't be making gingerbread men with me any

  more." His own eyes were filling with tears. One spilled over and

  trickled down his cheek.

  Malista caught it on her finger and wiped it away. "Thanks,

  Harry. I appreciate your sharing that with me. I'm glad I'm not the

  only one with delayed reactions."

  "It takes time," Harry said. He almost smiled as she made an

  impatient noise. "I know. You've heard that from Tom---and Chakotay--

  -and B'Elanna---and me---but that doesn't make it less true. There's

  some truth to the saying that time heals all wounds. Just take your

  time. You've had a lot of adjustments to make. But remember, you

  don't have to face everything on your own. I'm here if you need me.

  Tom will help you---whether you want him to or not, since he's

  appointed himself your older brother. And if you need a woman's

  touch, B'Elanna or Captain Janeway or Kes would lend you an ear. Just

  stay away from the Delaneys and their advice," Kim warned mockingly.

  He hadn't been happy with the Delaneys since they had aided and

  abetted Malista in a plan to drive him insane with jealousy---and

  done a damned good job of it, too. He got up and helped her to her

  feet.

  "Oh, gosh. What did Baxter tell you when he called you?" she

  asked, suddenly realizing from her stiffness how long she must have

  been sitting there.

  "I think you scared Baxter," Harry teased, slipping his arm

  around her back as they walked toward the exit. "Actually, he didn't

  call me. Natwick did."

  "George Natwick?" She was dumbfounded.

  Harry held up the box of tissues. "He even provided these.

  There's evidently more to the man than just muscles. You know, I

  think he really likes you." He watched carefully for her reaction.

  He knew it was silly for him to feel---jealous--- but---somehow he

  couldn't help it. It wasn't the first time he'd felt jealous of this

  woman. He'd never been this jealous or possessive with Libby. He was

  beginning to wonder what was wrong with him.

  Malista's eyebrows rose then fell into a frown. "If George

  Natwick likes me, he has a funny way of showing it. First he scares

  me out of my mind, then he tries to embarrass me to death at that

  party---I don't think so, Harry." She almost never contradicted

  Harry. Somehow it made him feel better. She looked down self-

  consciously as they passed Baxter on their way out into the corridor.

  Harry smiled at the man, grateful that he'd been concerned enough for

  Malista to seek help.

  "Where are we going?" Harry asked as they turned around the

  corner.

  "To my quarters," Malista said. "I have to---clean up. I'm not

  going to be seen in public looking like this."

  Harry studied her expression suspiciously. "How do I know this

  isn't part of some nefarious plan to get me alone? In your quarters?

  Alone?"

  "You said alone twice," Malista pointed out.

  "I was using repetition for emphasis," Kim explained kindly. Tom

  Paris' sense of humor was definitely rubbing off on him.

  "Oh."

  "Well?"

  "Well, what?" she asked.

  "Well, is this part of some nefarious plan to get me alone in

  your quarters so you can take advantage of me?" Harry elucidated.

  She wrinkled her nose at him. "No."

  "Why not?" he demanded, trying to look crushed.

  She checked the chronometer on her wrist. "Because we're

  supposed to meet Tom and B'Elanna in fifteen minutes."

  "No nefarious plan?" Harry said with exaggerated disappointment.

  "No. Not in only fifteen minutes," she added. "My nefarious

  plans usually take several hours to play themselves out."

  Harry perked up. "Really?"

  Malista entered the keycode to her quarters. "Why don't you go

  get out of uniform and meet me back here in ten minutes?"

  "But when---?"

  "After dinner?" She smiled at him mischievously. "Once we leave

  Tom and B'Elanna to their own devices, we can continue with life

  lesson number---three?"

  "Oh, yes! Ten minutes, ma'am!" Harry dashed out of sight.

  Malista looked once more at her chronometer. "Yikes!" She dashed

  for the shower.

  ***********************

  Tom Paris was exactly on time---as usual. B'Elanna Torres was

  running late---as usual. She greeted him at the door of her quarters

  wearing her maroon robe, hair brush in hand. "I'll just be a minute.

  Come in and sit down," she said quickly, as she retreated to her

  dressing area.

  Tom noticed with amusement that she was barefoot. She had cute

  toes. He wondered idly if she ever painted her toenails. He strolled

  in, taking his time as he toured her living area with his eyes. True,

  he'd been in her cabin before---a month or so ago, but without

  B'Elanna's nearness to distract him, he was capable of noticing more

  details. A stone statue on the table---that was new. He sat on the

  couch and examined it more closely. Some kind of predatory bird. The

  carving was exquisitely detailed in blue Alatiran marble. The

  feathers looked as if they would be soft to the touch, the eyes of

  the bird alert---quite an accomplishment for the artist. "Where did

  you get this?" he called out.

  "What?" she answered, her voice slightly breathless as she

  searched frantically for her other shoe under her bed.

  "The carving of the bird," he speci
fied. "It's beautiful."

  "Oh, it was a birthday gift from Chakotay. It's an eagle, a

  Terran bird."

  Now he remembered. He'd overheard Chakotay talking with Janeway

  about his gift for B'Elanna, but he didn't remember seeing it before.

  It must have been longer than he'd thought since he'd been in her

  cabin. "Did he replicate it?"

  She appeared in the doorway, every hair in place, wearing a red

  vee-necked tee-shirt, matching casual slacks, and sandals. "No, he

  replicated the marble then did the carving himself."

  "You look---great," Paris said, running his eyes over her. He

  looked back at the carving wistfully. He should have known that

  anything Chakotay did for B'Elanna would be a work of art---or a

  labor of love? "It must have taken him a long time. I wish I had some

  artistic ability like that."

  She came forward and stood beside him. "Did you ever try it?"

  His eyes darkened, as if a half-forgotten memory was pulling at

  him mentally. "No, I never tried carving. I did try drawing---" He

  stopped and she could almost see him change gears---to stop himself

  from sharing something hurtful. "Somehow, my teachers didn't

  appreciate my drawings of nudes!" he joked. "Especially since one or

  two of them were my models---without their knowledge or consent, of

  course! What I hadn't actually seen---I made up."

  She thumped his arm. "And how old were you?"

  He frowned thoughtfully. "Ten? Maybe twelve."

  "You started early," Torres commented. She swallowed her

  disappointment at the sudden turn of the conversation. She'd thought

  for just an instant that he might actually tell her something---

  personal. But he seemed determined to keep her at a distance---

  figuratively, if not literally.

  "Let's just say I was inspired," Tom said with a smile.

  It was what Torres privately referred to as Smile Number Two.

  Polite, friendly, but with no real warmth---and it didn't go beyond

  his lips to the rest of his face. She stifled a sigh of impatience.

  She hated this retreat that he made whenever she got close to the

  real Tom Paris. She didn't know how much longer she could pretend she

  didn't notice. Or even if she should keep up the pretense. How long

  would they have to know each other before he would open up?

  Paris could tell she was getting impatient. He didn't know why.