This is a Star Trek: Voyager story centering on the characters of Tom Paris and 
B'Elanna Torres and was composed in a round robin forum. We (the authors) would 
welcome any feedback, whether it be in the form of praise or criticism, as long as 
it's constructive. Please bear in mind that while there may be some rough 
transitions between some scenes, this is a round robin story and that is bound to 
happen.
Standard Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek and its universe. We have merely 
borrowed their wonderful characters to send them on yet another journey. However, 
the story and those parts not used by Paramount are Copyright 1996 by The P/T 
Collective. Please do not separate the author's name or this message from this 
story. Feel free to pass the story on, but do not reprint this story without the 
authors' permission.

Cracks in the Wall
By The P/T Collective Copyright 1996
Part 1

Michael Jonas was dead. Phased to infinity--beyond infinity--in a swirling cloud 
of plasma. But what a way to go, thought Tom.
     "Damn," muttered Tom.
     The etched glass door of Sandrine's quietly squeaked open and closed.  Tom 
knew it was Harry without even looking up. Poor Harry. This being lost in the 
Delta quadrant was harder on Harry than Janeway--than anybody--knew. Pining for 
Libby and missing his family; it must really be rotten.
     But not as rotten as not having anyone back home at all.
     Harry collapsed into the chair opposite Tom with a sigh, and the two men sat 
together in a comfortable silence.
     This time the door banged open with a little--whap!--and B'Elanna Torres 
marched in, surveyed the scene, and abruptly sat at the table, looking only 
towards the fire.
     The silence became rather more uncomfortable.
     "If that holographic pig of a gigolo comes over here to harass me," she 
finally snapped at Tom, "I'm going to smack you."
     "Now wait just a--"
     Yellow alert.
     "Janeway to all senior officers. Report to the bridge."
     Torres snarled at Paris as she headed to her post in Engineering.
     "Well," Paris said, "at least it didn't stay dull here for long."
     "What's bothering her?" Harry asked as he and Paris took off in the opposite 
direction for the bridge. "Did you say something to upset her today?"
     Paris looked shocked and insulted. "Not a thing! And Harry, I'm crushed at 
your insinuations."
     Harry Kim laughed and shook his head at Paris' mocking. Even though his 
recent "bad attitude" had turned out to be a ruse, you could never be sure when 
Paris was kidding and when he was quite serious.
     Paris wondered privately if he had, perhaps, done something to annoy Torres 
either in Sandrine's, or sometime that day. Why did it seem that she was angry 
with him one minute and sympathetic and concerned about him the next?
     Unlike most of the women he had known, he couldn't read her at all.

"Oh, yeah, THAT was fair," B'Elanna said to herself as she stormed off to 
Engineering. "Go ahead. Just walk into someone else's holoprogram, uninvited, and 
start insulting it. Why did I even go in there in the first place?" But B'Elanna 
knew why. No one else did--not Janeway, not Kim, not even Chakotay.
     Birthdays. A stupid tradition. A stupid, annoying, HUMAN, tradition.
     Her gold-clad team looked up expectantly as the doors slid open and she 
strode in.
     "What's up, Lieutenant?" Hogan asked for all of them.
     B'Elanna softened. It wasn't their fault. "I guess they'll tell us as soon as 
something gets broken," she said. "Man your posts."

The turbo lift doors opened with a woosh and both Tom and Harry came charging out 
heading for their respective stations. The ensign that was manning the con moved 
politely as Paris approached. The captain and Chakotay were already there, staring 
at the forward viewscreen. Paris first glanced at his conn board to see the status 
of the ship, then looked up.
     "What the hell?" he exclaimed. 
     "I don't know, Mr. Paris, but I intend to find out," replied the captain. 
"Maintain yellow alert for now." 
     "Aye, Captain."
     Voyager was heading for a structure that looked like a huge box. It seemed 
suspended in the blackness of space.
     Without looking up from his station, Tuvok said, "Now, Captain."
     Janeway nodded. "Full stop, Mr. Paris. That's close enough for our scanners." 
Hastily, Tom tapped at his board and brought the ship to a halt. Curious about the 
edge to the captain's voice, he looked back up at the object on the screen, 
studying it with interest. It was a large, metallic-looking cube, almost as black 
as space itself. Its dimensions were surprisingly regular, but its edges were 
round and its surface was pitted and scarred in many places. It looked vaguely 
familiar, but he couldn't place it. Overall, it didn't seem like anything special. 
     Except that the captain's wearing her 'one-wrong-move-and-I-shoot' look, Tom 
thought to himself. He took a quick glance at the rest of the bridge crew. Except 
for Harry, they all looked equally tense. Even Tuvok seemed more intent than 
usual. Tom didn't understand it. "What's so terrible about a metal cube hanging in 
space? We see stranger things than that every day of the week--"
     "Captain," Tuvok said impassively, "I have completed comparative analysis. 
Despite the superficial differences in appearance, there is a 92% probability that 
this is a Borg vessel." 
     Then the image clicked in Tom's memory--the tapes of the invasion had been 
shown on all channels--and his head jerked up as a mixture of terror and 
adrenaline flooded through his system. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see 
Harry pale--apparently the kid hadn't made the connection either.
     The Borg.
     No wonder Voyager was on yellow alert; he was only surprised the captain 
hadn't called for red alert and battle stations. Of course, since a single Borg 
ship had slaughtered 39 starships at Wolf 359, and come within an ace of wiping 
out the whole Federation, Voyager was unlikely to win a fight with one, no matter 
how ready for it she was.
     Tom swallowed hard. Suddenly, dying of boredom didn't sound so bad.  Then 
common sense took over. The captain would never have headed towards even a 
potential Borg ship--unless she had reason to think it was safe. Obviously, he and 
Harry had missed something.
     As if realizing the same thing, the captain asked: "Do scanners continue to 
show no lifesigns aboard, Mr. Kim?"
     "Uh--yes, Captain."
     She nodded. "No shields, no active weapons, no lifesigns. Looks like they're 
dead in space." She leaned back in her chair, eyes fixed on the image, and smiled 
tightly. "Bridge to Engineering."
     "Engineering here, Captain." B'Elanna answered the captain's call with not-
so-suppressed impatience; she hated not knowing what was going on.
     "Lieutenant, we've encountered what appears to be a Borg ship."
     Around her, Engineering went still and quiet. All she could think, absurdly, 
was, We're going to die and Tom's never going to know why I snarled at him. But 
the captain was continuing, "...empty and derelict, but basically intact."
     B'Elanna's mind raced faster than warp nine. "You mean we might be able to 
salvage that superdrive of theirs? Get home faster?"
     "It's a possibility."
     Again Engineering went still, but for very different reasons this time. "As 
soon as we're satisfied that it's safe," Janeway continued, "I want you to lead an 
away team over there."
     "Aye, Captain!"
     "Ensign Kim, are we still reading negative lifesigns?"
     "Yes, Captain," replied Harry. "Everything is deader than a doornail over 
there."
     "All right. Mr. Paris, take us in closer, but be ready to go to warp at a 
moment's notice if Harry's 'doornail' shows signs of life."
     "Aye, Captain."
     Slowly Voyager inched closer to the Borg ship. So far so good, Janeway 
thought to herself. "If we could board her we might pick up some valuable 
knowledge."
     "Chakotay, I want you, Torres, and Paris with a couple of security personnel 
to form an away team and beam over there. At the slightest movement there come 
back to Voyager immediately. Understood?"
     "Aye, Captain," replied Chakotay, as he started toward the turbolift. Paris 
joined him and the doors closed with a soft 'woosh'.
     "Transporter room two," Chakotay commanded, and Tom felt the ever so slight 
drop as they descended. He knew not everyone in Starfleet could feel things like 
that; could be so in tune with their ship. Usually only good captains, good 
pilots, and good engineers.
     Never ones to waste words on one another, Tom took the opportunity to ponder 
why he should have been chosen for the away team instead of Tuvok, but didn't come 
up with anything. Well, hell, I'll take it. A defenseless Borg cube! B'Elanna's 
going to have a major subspace fit.
     The doors of the turbolift opened with a hiss and Tom's high spirits 
evaporated. The security team was already there, heavily armed with phaser rifles, 
and had phasers and tricorders ready for both Torres and the bridge officers. In 
another moment, B'Elanna charged in bearing a small emergency engineering supply 
kit. She looked up questioningly at both Tom and Chakotay.
     Her eyes are exactly the same color as Tilidian chocolate, Tom thought to 
himself. He made a simple mental note: Look after her. Look after them all. What 
else could he do over there?
     "It's your show, B'Elanna," said Chakotay simply.
     "Right. First, we'll simply scan around and get an idea of the layout of the 
cube, and try to figure out what happened to the crew. Then, if it's safe, we'll 
contact Voyager and get an engineering team over there. Are we ready? Energize."

B'Elanna fought off the bout of dizziness the transporter always left her with. A 
quick glance showed her all were accounted for. Tuvok's security team, phasers 
ready, were already securing the perimeter. Chakotay was busy with a tricorder. 
Tom stood before her, concerned.
     "You okay?"
     Damn the man for noticing. "I'm fine. Let's get busy."
     "B'Elanna, I think you're going to have to rethink your plan to steal their 
superdrive," said Chakotay softly.
     "What? Why?"
     "Lifesigns are very limited, but they are present. These Borg are not dead."
     Chakotay's words caught everybody's attention.
     "Lifesigns?" repeated B'Elanna.
     Chakotay, eyes still on his tricorder, nodded. "They're coming from that 
direction," he said, indicating a corridor that stretched off to their right.
     The away team started off in that direction. As they followed the security 
team, a curious Paris unholstered his own tricorder and scanned the area. "I'm 
getting some power fluctuation readings from the same area as your lifesign 
readings, Commander," he said. "It almost looks like something's trying to power 
up but it's stuck in a feedback loop of some sort."
     Instead of pulling her own tricorder out, B'Elanna leaned over to look at the 
readings on Paris' tricorder. She didn't seem to notice that this movement brought 
them rather close together. Paris, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice. 
Get your mind back on the mission, Thomas, he chided himself. Now's no time to be 
daydreaming.
     Frowning at the readings she saw on Paris' tricorder, Torres straightened 
away from him. "Apparently this ship isn't quite as dead as we thought," she 
commented, not sounding entirely happy at this new revelation.
     The corridor opened up into a large chamber. The away team stood at the edge 
of the chamber, staring. There were several Borg soldiers, all secured in nooks 
that were located on the outer perimeter of the chamber. They were unmoving, 
seemingly inactive.
     Cautiously, the away team stepped into the chamber. "They're alive," Chakotay 
said softly. "It looks as if they're hooked into the ship's systems, recharging."
     Tricorder out, Torres approached one of the "sleeping" Borg. She stood nose 
to nose with it, examining it closely. "I think--" she started to say before she 
was abruptly cut off. Paris turned to see why she had stopped speaking so suddenly 
and was alarmed to see that the Borg soldier's arm had shot out, its fist wrapped 
around B'Elanna's throat, choking her.
     "Commander!" Paris yelled, alerting Chakotay. Paris leapt forward, grasping 
the Borg's arm in an attempt to break its grip on B'Elanna. He was frightened to 
see that B'Elanna's face was turning an alarming shade of red. He redoubled his 
efforts to break the Borg's hold. Chakotay joined him as B'Elanna lapsed into 
unconsciousness. Still the Borg did not release her.
     As the situation became desperate, the Borg suddenly released B'Elanna. Her 
unconscious form crumpled to the deck. Paris, turning his attention to her, did 
not see the Borg's arm swinging in his direction.
     "Paris, watch out!" Chakotay warned.
     Paris turned back to the Borg in time to receive a solid hit across his right 
temple. Seeing stars, he stumbled back. His arm went up to block the Borg's next 
blow, but it never landed.
     Chakotay's phaser sang out and the Borg fell to the deck.
     "Commander," Paris heard one of the security team say, "the others are 
showing signs of waking up."
     His head beginning to clear, Paris glanced at Chakotay before kneeling beside 
B'Elanna.
     Chakotay tapped his comm badge. "Chakotay to Janeway."
     "Janeway here."
     "Captain, we've found some surviving Borg aboard. They seem to be in some 
sort of hibernation, but they're showing signs of waking up. Both Torres and Paris 
are injured."
     Wanting to take no chances with her away team until they knew what they were 
dealing with, Janeway said, "Commander, I want you off that ship. Now."
     Paris relaxed as he heard Janeway's order to get off the ship. If the Borg 
were waking up, he didn't want to be anywhere near them. He turned his attention 
to B'Elanna, checking her to make sure that the Borg hadn't been able to inflict 
too much damage on her. Her breathing seemed to be all right; she was no longer 
gasping for air. But she still hadn't regained consciousness.
     "Captain!" Harry's voice came over the comm badge. "The Borg ship just raised 
its shields. The away team is...." Harry's voice was suddenly cut off.
     Alarmed, Paris looked at Chakotay as the Maquis tapped his comm badge. 
"Chakotay to Voyager." There was no response. He tried again. "Chakotay to 
Voyager." Paris tapped his comm badge and tried to hail Voyager as well, but he 
didn't have better luck.
     "Looks like we're on our own," Chakotay said. "How is she?"

"Mr. Kim, go to red alert as soon as the away team is back on board. Let's get out 
of here as fast as possible. I don't want to be anywhere close to that thing when 
it becomes fully operational," barked Janeway.
     "Aye, Captain," replied Harry.
     "Janeway to transporter chief," said Janeway triggering the internal ship's 
communication. "Beam Lt. Torres and Lt. Paris directly to Sickbay. Have Commander 
Chakotay report immediately to the bridge."
     "Chief Cooper to Janeway," came a disembodied response. "Commander Chakotay 
is on his way."
     No sooner had he said that the turbolift doors opened and Chakotay appeared.
     "Mr. Tuvok, weapon's status, please."
     "Phasers are charged, photon torpedo bays are loaded and on standby, 
Captain," said Tuvok in that calm unemotional voice.
     Janeway turned to Chakotay. "All right, Commander, let's have it. What 
happened?"
     "Captain, we have a situation," replied Chakotay. "The other members of the 
away team did not return with me. When we lost contact with Voyager--"
     "Captain, we are being scanned."
     "Shields up. Red alert. Chakotay--"
     "Captain," Kim interrupted, "we are being hailed by the Borg ship. Audio 
only."
     "Let's hear it."
     "Unidentified vessel," began the eeriest collective of voices Kim had hoped 
never to hear. "You will be assimilated. One member of your party has been allowed 
to return, so that assimilation may be facilitated. Resistance is futile. There 
will be no further communication."

Part 2

B'Elanna's senses reeled as a fit of coughing overtook her. "What happened?" she 
managed to choke out.
     "You got too close to a Borg and it bit you," Tom tried to joke, helping her 
to sit up. Anything to cover the rage that he felt, looking at the marks on 
B'Elanna's throat, already darkening to bruises.
     The Borg that had grabbed her lay crumpled at their feet. Tom scanned it.
     "I meant, what happened to your head."
     "Oh. Nothing. This guy is most sincerely dead. I think--"
     "Tom, hush." B'Elanna put her palms flat on the gridlike flooring. "Do 
you...Do you feel the same thing that I feel?"
     "Uh, sir. Sirs. Perhaps Hudson and I should--"
     Tom snorted with amusement. For a nanosecond, she had confused him, too. 
"Easy, Simms. The Lieutenant just means we're moving. Fast, too. Warp factor five 
or six, I'd say."

Janeway snapped, "What do you mean, they've just gone to warp? I thought they 
wanted to assimilate us! I thought there were no lifesigns! I thought they had no 
power signature, no weapons, no shields! Tuvok, WHAT is going ON over there?!"
     Impassive as ever, Tuvok replied, "May I remind the captain of an old Earth 
saying: 'the best defense is a good offense'. The Borg ship is in a severely 
weakened state. Perhaps they are simply 'bluffing'."
     "Bluffing or not they've got four of my crew," she retorted. "Hamilton, don't 
let them out of our sight."

Climbing to her feet, B'Elanna looked around. "Where's Chakotay?"
     "Back on Voyager, I would guess," replied Paris. "When they tried to beam us 
back, he was the only one they picked up. It might be a good idea for us to..." 
His voice trailed off at the sound of several feet marching in their direction. "I 
think we're about to have company," he said unnecessarily.
     With nowhere to run, the foursome turned to face whatever was coming their 
way. Several Borg entered the chamber, circling the away team. "You will be 
assimilated," the Borg told them.
     "Assimilate this!" Torres snarled, firing her phaser.
     The first Borg she hit went down immediately. The next staggered, but 
remained on its feet. Paris, Hudson, and Simms fired at the remaining Borg with no 
visible effect. They had already adapted to the phasers' frequency. In no time at 
all, the away team was disarmed and herded into what appeared to be a holding 
cell. It was basically a bare room with no furnishings of any sort.
     Tom and B'Elanna sat side by side on the floor. Across from them, leaning 
against the opposite wall, sat Hudson and Simms.
     B'Elanna rubbed a hand against her bruised throat where the Borg had tried to 
strangle her.
     "You okay?" asked Paris.
     Irritated, B'Elanna started to snap an angry reply in his direction, but when 
she turned her head to look at him, the sincere concern in his eyes stopped her 
retort. It was the same concern she had seen in his eyes when the Vidiians had 
captured them and split her into her Klingon and Human halves. Sighing deeply, she 
said, "What a way to spend my birthday."
     Paris' eyes widened. "Birthday? Today's your birthday?"
     Sorry she had even mentioned it, B'Elanna reached out to lightly touch his 
forehead. "You're bleeding."
     Out of the corner of his eye, Paris saw Hudson and Simms trade looks as they 
watched the exchange between himself and B'Elanna. He suddenly became aware of how 
close he and B'Elanna were sitting and what it must look like from the other duo's 
perspective. Grinning, he held a hand to his wounded forehead as he leaned in 
closer to B'Elanna, saying sweetly, "Want to kiss it and make it all better?"
     Placing a hand against his chest, she shoved him back. "You're a pig, Paris!"
     Sighing theatrically, Paris said, "Yeah, I've heard that before."
     B'Elanna shook her head, but Paris didn't miss the slight smile on her face.

The atmosphere on the bridge was tense, to say the least. Janeway paced back and 
forth, listening to the reports coming in. Not only had they unexpectedly 
encountered a Borg ship, but now four of her crew were on that ship and they were 
unable to communicate with them or retrieve them. Despite repeated attempts to 
contact the Borg ship, their hails had gone unanswered.
     Chakotay joined her, standing reassuringly by her side. Quietly, he said, 
"The Borg ship hasn't moved beyond warp six. Based on what I saw, and the readings 
I took over there, I suspect their ship is damaged. That should give us an 
advantage."
     Janeway glared at the forward viewscreen, where the Borg ship they were 
chasing was being monitored. "Maybe," was her only comment. Chakotay had briefed 
her on what had occurred once the away team had beamed over to the Borg ship, but 
given who they were dealing with, she couldn't help but be uneasy.
     Turning to face Chakotay she said, "Call a briefing of the senior bridge 
officers. We'll meet in ten minutes. I'll be in my ready room."
     Chakotay watched her exit the bridge to her ready room before returning to 
his seat and alerting the others of the upcoming briefing.

Torres paced the holding cell restlessly. She had examined every inch of the cell, 
looking for a way out to no avail. Her frustration level was growing, along with 
her anger. With difficulty, she reined it in. It wasn't Paris' fault, or Hudson's, 
or Simms' that they were in this situation. It wouldn't be fair to take it out on 
them. She returned to sit beside Paris, who leaned back against the wall as if he 
hadn't a care in the world. She envied him his composure.
     Paris, quaking inside at the thought of being in the hands of the Borg, tried 
not to let it show. He'd heard stories about Wolf 359 and what the Borg had done 
to Captain Picard. Watching Torres pace back and forth until she came back to 
resume her seat at his side, he thought back to earlier that day, before the 
yellow alert, when Torres had stormed into Sandrine's. Looking over at her he 
asked, "Is that why you were so upset earlier today when you came into Sandrine's 
and bit my head off? Because it's your birthday?"
     Torres sighed. She should have known Paris would figure it out sooner or 
later. He had an uncanny knack for picking up on little things like that and 
pulling all the pieces together to get the big picture. "Birthdays are a human 
tradition. A stupid human tradition," she said, repeating earlier remarks she had 
made to herself.
     "Um hmm," was Paris' only remark.
     "What's that supposed to mean?" B'Elanna's temper flared.
     Paris looked across the way to where Hudson and Simms sat taking this all in 
with interest. Like there's anything else to do here, thought Paris. Turning back 
to B'Elanna, he asked, "Why were you so upset? After all, it's just a 'stupid 
human tradition'."
     B'Elanna bit back the retort she had been about to utter. Paris was trying to 
goad her into revealing something she had no intention of sharing with him or 
anyone else. She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms defensively, 
remaining silent.
     About to comment further, Paris suddenly cocked his head toward the entrance 
to their cell. "I think we're about to have visitors," he said, getting to his 
feet, as did the others.
     The forcefield at the entrance flickered off. Torres prepared herself to 
spring at the two Borg as they entered into the cell, but Paris placed a hand on 
her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Now is not the time," he tried to tell her. He 
saw her nod slightly to let him know she had understood his message.
     "You. Come with us. You will be assimilated," one of the Borg said, as he 
pointed a phaser-like weapon at Hudson. Hudson didn't move. Two more Borg came in. 
Paris moved in front of Hudson as if to protect him, but the Borg tossed him 
roughly to the floor as if he weighed nothing. B'Elanna started towards them but 
the Borg turned his phaser on her. She stopped, suddenly realizing there was 
absolutely nothing she could do. Watching the Borg carefully, she gave Paris a 
hand up, looking closely at him just to make sure all his pieces were still there. 
The Borg then grabbed Hudson and forcefully removed him from the cell. All three 
of the occupants of the cell moved towards the entrance, but the forcefield came 
to life once more.
     "What are you trying to do? Get yourself assimilated before your time?" asked 
B'Elanna angrily.
     "It seemed like a good idea at the time. I acted before I thought, hoping to 
somehow divert their attention towards me. After that I didn't have a plan," 
replied Tom.
     "There's got to be a way out of here," said Simms, panicky.
     "None that I know of," replied B'Elanna.
     Tom once more sat on the floor of the cell and B'Elanna resumed her pacing. 
Simms sat down against the opposite wall and rested his head on his knees. All was 
quiet in the cell once more except for the low rumble of the warp drive. All three 
were thinking of the fate of Hudson and none wanted to share it. Tom sat watching 
B'Elanna moving up and down the cell. She reminds me of a caged lion I once saw as 
a kid at a zoo back on Earth. She probably paces in her sleep when she has a 
problem to work out. Just one time I would like to get inside her head to see how 
it works. It would probably be very educational, Tom thought to himself. He 
cracked a slight smile at the thought just as Torres turned towards him.
     "OK, I give. What are you smiling about? I don't see anything funny about our 
situation just now," she asked challengingly.
     "You wouldn't want to know," he replied quietly, for Simms had fallen asleep. 
B'Elanna sat down beside Paris and looked questioningly towards him.
     "Maybe you should try and get some rest," he said, trying to throw her off 
track.
     "Nice try, Tom, but it won't work. What, I repeat again, were you smiling at 
just now?"
     I'll just bet one of your ancestors was in the Spanish Inquisition, he said 
to himself, thinking fast, trying to come up with something that would satisfy 
her.
     "I was thinking that this is one hell of a birthday present," Tom responded. 
"I promise that when we get out of this mess, I will throw you a birthday party at 
Sandrine's."
     "I don't want a birthday party. I've never had one in my life and I don't 
intend to start now," she replied testily.
     Shocked, Paris said the first thing that came into his mind. "You mean you 
never, even as a kid, had a birthday party?"
 Part 3

Captain Kathryn Janeway gently laid her hand mirror back on her dressing table, 
fighting off the urge to smack it down, just to hear it break.
     It had been late in the second shift when Tuvok had alerted her to the Borg 
ship; they had all already put in a long day: checking systems, scanning files, 
and running diagnostics; in short, making sure the Voyager was fit after her 
incredible duplication and near destruction, her constant run-ins with the Kazon 
and the Vidiians.
     Now, after nearly twenty hours on duty, the fatigue was setting in. She knew 
she would be late to her own meeting, but it had taken her a few minutes to calm 
her anger. To assuage her fear. To face her guilt.
     Guilt. She had sent them, no one else. On a fool's errand? Perhaps. Torres, 
who needed the experience of command. Paris, who was chafing under the yoke of 
routine. Hudson and Simms, good soldiers, who just needed a chance to do their 
jobs once in a while.
     Hudson. Simms. Paris. Torres. "NO. I will NOT put these names in the 
captain's log as 'Missing, presumed dead,'" she said softly, fiercely, aloud.

"Tuvok, report."
     "The Borg ship is cruising at warp factor 5.8, in a heading that is roughly 
perpendicular to our previous course. Their systems appear to have been in a low 
energy state, thus deceiving us into believing they were harmless," said Tuvok.
     "Intentionally?" queried Chakotay.
     "Based on your own report, I would doubt it, Commander. The Borg seem to have 
been in a hibernative state," replied Tuvok. "I do not believe they attempted to 
fool us on purpose."
     "Weapons, Mr. Kim?" No response. Kim sat staring past Janeway at the smearing 
images of the starfield outside the window, lost in thought. "Mr. Kim?" repeated 
Janeway, gently. Nothing. "Harry!" she urged.
     Kim started. "Yes, Captain?"
     Janeway glanced around the room, gathering up their attention, touched at 
their concern. Carey and Hamilton, looking uncomfortable. Kes and Neelix, tired 
and unhappy. Tuvok, impassive. Chakotay, guilty. Kim, grim.
     "We will get them back," she said simply, emphasizing every word. "Whole. 
Unassimilated."
     "Captain, I have an idea," said, of all people, Kes. "But it may be 
dangerous."

B'Elanna shrugged--a quick, angry jerk of the shoulders. "Klingons don't celebrate 
birthdays," she retorted.
     "But you were raised in a human colony. Didn't you--" He actually broke off 
the sentence at a glare from her, one so hot it would have done credit to a 
supernova.
     "It's not important, Tom. Drop it, all right?" While she kept her voice low, 
she practically spat the words. He studied her thoughtfully, wondering if she had 
any idea how much information her face could give out at times. While her 
motivations were sometimes obscure, her emotions were an open book--she'd never 
mastered the careless mask he wore as a matter of course. Just now, her face was 
all tense angles and bitter lines, and it made something twist in him. I want to 
make her smile, he realized. He'd always loved her rare, flashing smile.
     "No," he said slowly, "I don't think so." She actually growled, low in her 
throat, and flung herself up from the floor to begin pacing the small space 
available again. His reaction to the unconscious grace and power of her movement 
startled him, and he had to swallow before continuing: "Forget Sandrine's. We'll 
have your party right now, right here."
     She came to an abrupt stop, whirling to face him. "Are you out of your mind, 
Tom? We've been taken prisoner by the Borg! They've already taken Hudson to be 
'assimilated'"--her fists clenched--"and we're stuck in here, just waiting for 
them to come do the same thing to us! And you want to have a stupid party??"
     She would remind him of Hudson, whose face he had been trying very hard to 
push out of his mind. Junior officers, he knew only too well, were his 
responsibility, and it was one he was growing to hate. But just now he couldn't 
help Hudson--and there was B'Elanna. "You have a better idea?"
     "Don't you understand? We're going to die!"
     "Maybe." He shrugged, grateful for the casual mask that concealed his bone-
deep fear. "Maybe not; Captain Janeway has a pretty good track record for rescues. 
She got us out last time, didn't she?" B'Elanna's body untensed slightly; the 
captain's name was almost a talisman for both of them.
     Almost. "That was last time. What makes you think she can pull it off again?"
     "Whether she can or not, there's nothing we can do about it." She growled 
again, and he went on hurriedly, "Look, B'Elanna, we've got no weapons. We don't 
know how many Borg are on board, or if any of them are guarding this door, or the 
layout of the ship--and besides, both of us are hurt. Unless you've got some 
technological trick up your sleeve--you don't, do you?"
     "I can't disassemble my communicator and turn it into a bomb, no."
     "Then I'd say we're stuck. Either we're going to be rescued, or we're not. If 
we are, then there isn't any point in our sitting here worrying." 
     "But if we're not," he went on before she could interrupt, "then I can't 
think of a better way to spend the time we've got left than in celebrating your 
birth."
     'Oh, man,' Tom thought to himself, 'did that come out as corny as I think it 
did?"'
     Evidently so, because her mouth actually twitched. "If that was a line, Tom, 
it wasn't too bad." She paused, then sat. "You know," she said almost 
conversationally, "I've always thought that being a prisoner was something to 
worry about. I've never understood why everyone tries to calm me down when it 
happens--Chakotay, Harry, Tuvok, you..."
     Tom glanced pointedly at the cell's limited confines. "Self-defense," he 
assured her dryly. That got a real smile, even if was a little weak.
     "Honestly, B'Elanna, laughter can be a defense against a lot of things. Want 
to give it a try?"
     She took a deep breath, then nodded slowly. "All right. But Tom, I--don't 
really know much about these things..."
     "That's okay," he assured her. "I do. Now, if we were holding this on 
Voyager, it'd be in some terrific holodeck setting, surrounded by all your friends 
and lots of presents and food. Since we're not on Voyager, we'll have to use our 
imaginations. Pretend we're in Sandrine's..." She looked a little dubious, but 
apparently did so.
     "Now, instead of your uniform, you're wearing a long, sweeping red silk gown. 
It's sleeveless, but you're wearing matching gloves--and ruby earrings, too."
     "You don't think I'm a little overdressed?"
     "Hey, it's your party. Now, the neckline is--here --"
     "Tom!"
     He just grinned. "Shh, I'm creating. There's music playing--" He named one of 
her favorite songs-- "and Neelix is catering. He's actually produced some good 
stuff this time; maybe he replicated it. Everybody's here, of course--the captain, 
Chakotay, Harry, Kes, Tuvok, the Doctor, and everybody else you know. Now, what 
would you like first? Food, presents, dancing?"
     "Presents," she said with a grin of her own; Tom almost lost the thread of 
his story at the sight of it. She really is beautiful when she smiles...
     "Presents, right. Let's see--the captain is first." He pretended to unwrap an 
imaginary box. "Ah! Free poker lessons. You'll be able to beat anybody on board in 
less than a week." 
     "From Carey--that cyrionic converter you wanted so badly two days ago." At 
her look, he added, "B'Elanna, the whole ship could hear you yelling at Carey 
about that thing." She shrugged unrepentantly.
     Tuvok's gift came next. "Hmmm--one thousand, six hundred and three pieces of 
logical advice." He waited a beat, then-- "All of which you are entitled to ignore 
completely." She actually laughed out loud, but quieted with curiosity as he gave 
the next name.
     "Chakotay." He paused for effect, then announced: "A Terran eagle, carved 
from blue Alatiran marble." Her jaw dropped.
     "How did you know about that??" she demanded incredulously. He answered with 
smug silence and an amused smile, and she shook her head in sheer disbelief. 
"Okay, keep going."
     And he did, going from person to person, sometimes at her prompting, 
sometimes at his own. Most of them were funny, like Harry's "temporal compressor--
for when the captain wants you to do a six-hour job in three hours." Or the 
Doctor's punching bag-- "so you don't give him extra business." Or the note from 
Seska, promising to wait at least a week between attacks-- "so you have time to 
get everything fixed before it gets shot up again." Some were simply nice 
thoughts, like the plant from Kes. Some were both, like Neelix's gallon of 
replicated chocolate ice cream. By then she'd learned not to ask how he knew these 
things--he wasn't about to tell her that he'd known it was her favorite because 
he'd been eavesdropping on Chakotay. But as he went down the list, watching her 
carefully, her body relaxed completely, and her laughter came often and sincerely. 
She truly was enjoying this. Come to think of it, so was he--thoughts of the Borg 
were easier to push away while he listened to her laugh.
     Tom was feeling very pleased with himself--until B'Elanna looked up at him, 
and asked slyly, "So Tom--what are you giving me?"
     B'Elanna's mischievous smile faded when she saw the seriousness in Tom's 
eyes. She'd expected another joke: some facetious, offcolor remark. Something 
typically Tom.
     But his face was so solemn, so gentle, as he considered her question, she 
found herself wondering if she really knew this man at all.
     'When did I stop thinking of him as a 'guy'?' she thought to herself.
     When did he become a man to me, a desirable one? She stopped that line of 
thought immediately. It wasn't easy, with him studying her so closely.
     "I don't know," he said at last. "So many things come to mind--but I've 
already given you what I most wanted to."
     "And what's that?" she laughed, trying to lighten the moment.
     "This smile," Tom said, reaching out to trace the curve of her lower lip with 
his thumb. At the touch of his hand on her face, B'Elanna felt an electric jolt 
run through her, lips to hips to toes. After that first moment, she pulled back--
he did, too. But not before they each knew that the other had felt it too.
     That moment of shared desire.
     Oh God, B'Elanna, say something. Anything! "So, umm--you're a cheapskate 
after all."
     "What?" Paris was understandably bewildered.
     "My own smile is all you're giving me for my birthday? Surely you can do 
better than that."
     Tom grinned wolfishly. "As a matter of fact, I can. Hmmm," hummed Tom, 
leaning back and closing his eyes. "What to get B'Elanna for her birthday. What to 
get, what to get, what to get. A phaser with her name engraved on it? No. A brand 
new hoverball, personally autographed by Q? No. A vial of antidote for Neelix's 
latest creation? No. Well, maybe."
     With his eyes still closed, he reached out and took her hand. "I'll have to 
think about it. I'll let you know. Now rest. We've got some serious partying to do 
when we get back."

"Go ahead, Kes," said Janeway, trying not to let her surprise show.
     "Neelix and Harry have been explaining to me what it means to 'bluff', 
Captain," she said. "I find it an odd idea. Promising to do that which you really 
have no intention of doing at all. The concept is totally unknown to my people."
     "Yes, I should say so, in a society of telepaths," responded Chakotay.
     "But these people, these 'Borg', they aren't telepathic, are they? Towards 
us, I mean. Mr. Tuvok says they 're in a weakened condition. They are running away 
from us, aren't they? Perhaps they could be 'bluffed' into returning our 
hostages."
     "Captain," continued Kim, "we've analyzed their weapons systems. Their main 
weapons array seems to be damaged. Their transwarp superdrive appears to be off-
line. Other than that, we just don't know. With their collective lifestyle, we 
don't even know how many of them there are, or the status of their life support."
     "Captain," ventured Tuvok, "Voyager is no match for a Borg cube, even in a 
damaged state. If we engage them, it must not come down to a firefight. Unless, of 
course, they drop out of warp and lower their shields."
     "But that, Mr. Tuvok," replied Janeway, "is all we need, isn't it?
Maybe, just maybe, we can make them do it."


Part 4

Simms jerked awake with a start. Lieutenant Paris still sat in the same place, but 
Lieutenant Torres had stopped her pacing and was seated beside him, her eyes 
closed, her head actually on his shoulder. Hudson, you should have lived to see 
what I'm seeing right now, he thought, with a soft sigh. How the mighty are 
falling.
     "Shh, Simms," Paris murmured, not moving at all.
     "How am I supposed to sleep with you two making all this noise?" said Torres 
quietly, also not moving.
     "I thought you were asleep."
     "I think you've got a thinking problem."
     The peaceful moment died as the sound of footsteps approached. All three 
leaped to their feet.
     "Tom, we can't just wait here while they take us one by one! We have to do 
something! Anything! We'll just grab them and--"
     One by one, two by two...
     "No, B'Elanna, wait..." An idea took shape in Tom's mind.
     "What?"
     "I want you to kiss me," he said, catching her arm.
     "WHAT? Now?!?"
     "Just play along. Simms, watch for your chance." Tom pulled her to him, 
holding her shoulders with both hands, and kissed her.
     B'Elanna felt a rush of emotions. Anger. Embarrassment. Insult. 
And...something else? Yes, desire, she couldn't deny it. That, more than anything, 
caused her to put her hands flat on his chest to shove him off. She heard the 
forcefield disengage. B'Elanna broke away from Tom, but he held her firmly by the 
shoulders. One Borg entered, pointing his phaser directly at her. "You will now be 
assimilated."
     "We are a pair," announced Tom. "You must take us together, or we will both 
die BEFORE we can be assimilated." That being said, he promptly ignored the Borg, 
firmly turned B'Elanna's face up, closed his eyes, and kissed her again.
     Tom heard the whir as the Borg adjusted the focus of its eyepiece, paused, 
and refocused again. Yeah, thought Tom, I thought this would interest you. Never 
seen humans do this before, have you?
     There came a thud, then another. Both Lieutenants turned to see the Borg 
down, dead or unconscious, Simms with its weapon in his hand, already through the 
portal. "Good thinking, sirs."
     Tom released B'Elanna, thinking, 'Oh, boy, Thomas. Are you ever about to get 
"smacked".'
     B'Elanna said nothing, but turning on her heel, she charged through the 
portal. For the moment, at least, they were free.

The trio, with Simms in the lead, weapon in hand, had made it farther into the 
Borg ship than Paris thought possible. The Borg didn't seem to be aware that they 
had escaped yet, but he was sure that was bound to change any minute. He caught up 
to Simms and B'Elanna as they came to a stop. B'Elanna was studying a nearby 
monitor intently.
     "What?" asked Paris.
     "Look at this," she said, indicating the monitor. It appeared to be some sort 
of diagram. But when Tom took a closer look at it he realized it was a layout of 
the ship. B'Elanna pointed excitedly at one area. "I think this is their 
engineering section. If we could get control of it..."
     Paris didn't bother to vocalize his thoughts that it was bound to be guarded. 
She would know that already. It was, simply, their only choice at the moment. "We 
need more weapons," he said.
     "I've got that covered, sir," spoke up Simms quietly, motioning them back 
into an alcove. Paris peeked around him to see two Borg approaching. They seemed 
unaware of the trio in their path. Simms shot them before they had a chance to 
register their presence.
     Hurrying forward, Simms gathered their weapons and turned to hand one each to 
Paris and Torres.
     B'Elanna cocked an eyebrow at Tom. "You were saying?"
     Shrugging, Tom said to Simms, "Good job, Ensign." Bowing grandly to B'Elanna, 
he said, "After you, Lieutenant."
     B'Elanna rolled her eyes as she headed down the corridor, Paris and Simms on 
her heels. Simms, bringing up the rear, grinned. It was almost worth being trapped 
on a Borg ship, he thought, to watch the byplay between Lt. Torres and Lt. Paris.

They had gained entry to the Borg ship's engineering compartment. There hadn't 
been any guards, which had puzzled them, until Paris commented that perhaps it 
just never occurred to the Borg that an attack might come from within. Deciding 
not to look a gift horse in the mouth, they took full advantage of the 
opportunity. In no time at all, they had sealed the entrance to Engineering and 
incapacitated the few Borg who had been there.
     It didn't take B'Elanna long before she had the Borg systems figured out.
     "What do you think?" B'Elanna asked, turning to look at Tom.
     The expression in his eyes was frank, although his tone was light. "I think 
we can remain in control of this ship for maybe ten minutes before the Borg break 
the roadblocks we've set up in the system and regain control. Let's hope Voyager 
is right on our tail."
     Simms, who had been playing gopher for the lieutenants for the last few 
minutes, stood back and watched them. He wasn't sure how they had done it, but 
somehow Paris and Torres had managed to give them a fighting chance. They worked 
well together. He wondered if they had any idea how well they worked together. He 
sincerely hoped they got the chance to find out.

B'Elanna bent over the control panels, ready to begin the programs to slow the 
Borg vessel. Still, doubt tugged at her thoughts. "Tom?" she asked, too 
preoccupied to remember to call him by his last name.
     "What's the matter? Is there some problem?"
     "No. But there should be."
     Paris raised a puzzled eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
     "The Borg are one of the most technologically advanced species known to the 
Federation. They've annihilated dozens of Starfleet's finest vessels. It looks 
like I can just tap into this system and slow the Borg vessel. But it can't be 
that easy, Tom. That's what's wrong here. It's--too easy."
     Tom sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Trust you to find the dark 
cloud around the silver lining, B'Elanna. What do you think we should do about 
it?"
     "Well," she answered slowly, "right now, I think the best thing to do would 
be to keep going with our plan. We don't have many alternatives, do we? But stay 
on your guard, Tom. There's more to this than we know, I'm sure of it." Paris 
nodded, readying his phaser. The unearthly hum and grind of the Borg vessel seemed 
ominously louder around them. Torres took a deep breath, then punched in the code.
     And they were plunged into darkness.
     The darkness inside a space vessel, windowless, surrounded only by black 
space, is infinite. B'Elanna felt her stomach lurch in terror, and she reached out 
blindly. Her hand brushed against something warm--she gasped in fright before 
realizing that it was Tom's face.
     Paris reached up and took her hand in his own, holding it close to his chest. 
"That's not promising, is it?"
     "Maybe--maybe we actually shut them down," Torres said. But she couldn't 
quite believe she'd been so successful. Instinctively, she drew closer to Tom.  He 
slid an arm around her shoulders; B'Elanna was surprised at the touch, but 
welcomed it all the same. Just because this is damned scary, she told herself.
     But there, in the dark, without the sight of him to distract her, she was 
aware of so many little things about him--the warmth of his skin near her own, the 
soft woodsy smell of his skin, the sound of his breathing, smooth and controlled, 
no doubt by force of will. What is happening to me? she wondered.
     And then there was no time to wonder about anything at all.
     "Did you hear that?" Tom whispered--and then clutched her tightly as a red 
light pierced the darkness.
     Red light from what should have been the eyes of a Borg. His metallic voice 
rasped, "The biological life forms found the simulated vulnerability. Time elapsed 
was under estimate. Pair theory still unproven. Further tests required."
     "Rats in a maze," Tom snarled. B'Elanna turned his face toward her own, 
resting her hand on his cheek.
     "Don't lose your head now, Paris. We've got to stay sharp. Okay?"
     In the dim gleam of the Borg's light, Torres could just make out the 
expression in his eyes as he nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry--"
     "Further tests are required," the Borg rasped. "The tests will begin now."
     A test! The whole thing had been a simulated test. Paris seethed, his anger 
coming to a boiling point. Only B'Elanna's hand on his arm held him back.
     "Sirs?" Simms' uncertain voice echoed in the darkness.
     "Easy does it, Ensign," soothed Paris, who longed for the feel of the weapon 
back in his hand, but it had evidently been as simulated as everything else around 
them.
     They were all startled when the lights abruptly came back on. Paris turned at 
B'Elanna's sharply indrawn breath. She stood staring at a nearby table. On it lay 
Hudson, whom they had not seen since the Borg had dragged him out of the cell. He 
was strapped down on a table being prepared to be Borgified. He couldn't seem to 
speak, but his eyes pleaded with them.
     Paris stepped forward, saying the first thing that popped into his head. "You 
mustn't assimilate him!"
     "Tom," B'Elanna's voice whispered, her hand tightening on his arm, "I think 
Hudson's a simulation too."
     "Are you sure?" Paris asked suspiciously. "How do we know? What if he isn't 
and that really IS Hudson lying there?"
     She had no answer for him. He was right. They would have to play this out. 
Her hand moved to his unconsciously. He clasped it tightly.
     The Borg turned to look at Paris and Torres, addressing them as one. "He will 
be assimilated. He will become part of the Collective."
     Swallowing his fear and anger, Paris repeated, "You cannot assimilate him. He 
is necessary to the pair. We will not allow his assimilation." Tom spoke 
forcefully, surely.
     The Borg, however, ignored him and moved to proceed with the assimilation.
     Before either Tom or B'Elanna could stop him, Simms had darted forward and 
inserted himself between the Borg and the prone Hudson. The Borg's weapon centered 
on Simms. Of one mind, Paris and Torres both moved forward to stand protectively 
in front of Hudson and Simms. Slowly, the Borg's weapon lowered. It addressed 
Paris and Torres. "You would risk your existence for another?" Its eyes moved to 
Paris' and Torres' clasped hands.
     Paris raised their clasped hands. "We are joined," he stated. "These two," he 
indicated Simms and Hudson, "are important to us."
     The Borg was suddenly very still, as if processing this information. Tom 
squeezed B'Elanna's hand reassuringly. The Borg seemed to receive further 
instruction through his link with the Collective and stated, "The test will 
proceed. They will be assimilated."
     "State the purpose of the test." B'Elanna addressed the Borg as if requesting 
information from a computer. "Define the parameters."
     "The joined entities will be tested to verify the supposition that they are 
invulnerable to assimilation. The first phase is complete. Test subjects 
accomplished task jointly under projected time limits. Further testing is 
required."
     "Define parameters for the next phase of testing," ordered B'Elanna.
     "Test subject is not authorized to access that information. Testing will 
proceed." Without much difficulty, the Borg moved Paris aside forcefully. 
B'Elanna, who had a moment longer to prepare, stood her ground. Paris rose from 
the deck to where the Borg had tossed him to see B'Elanna struggling with the 
Borg. The Borg was quickly overpowering her. Tom leaped forward, knocking B'Elanna 
aside and stood face to face with the Borg, mere inches from it. Paris was angry. 
He had had enough of this. "Go ahead. Shoot me. Kill me. Assimilate me. Whatever 
you plan to do, just do it and stop playing these games."
     "Tom, no!"
     Paris heard B'Elanna's plea but ignored it. He stared at the Borg. "We 
possess something you will never have. It's called humanity. Compassion. It's what 
binds us together."
     Paris' voice contained a hard edge that B'Elanna had never heard before. To 
her amazement, the Borg actually stepped back from Paris. "That is irrelevant," it 
said, but did Paris detect just a note of uncertainty? He pursued it.
     "Is it? Why do you assimilate other beings? Isn't it because you want more 
knowledge? Because you're curious? If you assimilate us, you take away our 
humanity. That spark that makes us each uniquely special. You can't assimilate 
that. Leave us unassimilated and let us teach you about humanity."
     "You will be--"
     "Yeah, yeah," Paris waved a dismissive hand. "Assimilated. I know. Don't you 
guys know any other big words?" Suddenly tired, he turned his back on the Borg and 
looked at Hudson, Simms and lastly, B'Elanna. Giving her a weary smile, he said, 
"We tried."
     B'Elanna came to stand beside him. She surprised Tom by placing her arms 
around his waist and leaning into him. Paris obligingly wrapped his arms around 
her and pulled her close. She tipped her face upward, as if awaiting a kiss. Tom 
bent his head to press his lips on hers, but before their lips met, he heard her 
whispering softly to him. "Simms still has his weapon. Apparently, it wasn't part 
of the simulation. Remember, we got ours later, after we left the cell." 
Reluctantly abandoning her lips, he peered past her shoulder to where Simms stood 
behind her, still guarding Hudson. Simms gave him a slight thumbs up.
     Nodding to Simms imperceptibly, Paris bent back down to B'Elanna. "Ready?" 
She nodded slightly.
     Not knowing if they would survive what would happen in the next few moments, 
Tom couldn't resist. He gently brushed his lips against B'Elanna's. Sweetly. 
Tenderly. To his amazement, this time she returned his kiss with some passion of 
her own. Reluctantly, he pulled away. Meeting her eyes, he saw her acknowledgment 
that she was ready.
     Simms was ready when Paris and Torres threw themselves to one side. In one 
smooth movement, he had the weapon out and blasted the Borg. It went down like a 
sack of rocks and didn't move. Simms whirled to shoot out the controls which he 
hoped were the ones controlling the simulation.
     Seconds later, the simulated Engineering room disappeared around them and 
they were back in their former holding cell, with a few minor differences. The 
dead or unconscious Borg still lay on the floor, and behind Simms lay Hudson. The 
real Hudson. The forcefield barring the portal was, surprisingly, inactivated.
     Helping him sit up, B'Elanna asked, "Are you all right?"
     "I think so," Hudson replied. With their assistance, he climbed to his feet.
     Simms led the way to the door, peering out cautiously. "Looks clear," he 
said, glancing over his shoulder at the others.
     "Sirs?" Paris and Torres looked at Hudson inquiringly. "Sirs, how do we know 
this is real? That it's not another simulation?" Hudson had verbalized the obvious 
fear.
     Shrugging, Paris said, "Right now it's the only game in town. We may as well 
play it out and see where it gets us."
     They exited their unguarded holding cell, still not knowing if any of this 
was real or a simulation and proceeded down the corridor. Suddenly--terribly--BOTH 
Simms and Hudson blinked out of existence. The corridor itself dissolved away to 
reveal what B'Elanna could only assume was a holodeck. A Borg stood before them.
     "Damn it! Where's Simms? When did they separate us?" Tom's frustration was 
palpable now.
     "I don't know. I'm starting to wonder if this hasn't been a simulation since 
we came aboard." Torres realized even as she said it that this could mean--Not Tom 
too? Her blood ran cold as she thought that she might have just snuggled up to a 
Borg hologram--but Paris grabbed her hand and asked quietly, "What's Harry Kim's 
favorite song?"
     "What a Difference a Day Makes," B'Elanna said. "What's Chakotay's favorite 
meal?"
     "Mushroom soup. Okay, we're still legitimate."
     Throughout all of this, the Borg watched them dispassionately. The pasty skin 
over his face remained motionless, almost statue like. It was faintly eerie, and 
B'Elanna realized she was clutching Tom's hand a little harder. "What do you want 
now?" she demanded of their captor.
     "What does this mean, to be an inseparable pair?"
     Damn, Tom thought. He'd been hoping that they'd accept his bluff at face 
value. He'd lived on the wrong side of the law long enough to know that lies are 
always best kept simple. Still, he could bluff with the best of them, couldn't he? 
"It means that we are not to be divided."
     "Biological life forms are not conjoined. The Borg are conjoined. Biological 
units are separate."
     "We're not joined the same way you are, thank God," B'Elanna sighed. "We are 
joined by choice."
     "But it is just as inseparable as your joinings. You cannot separate us, or 
assimilate without assimilating the joining," Tom added.
     The Borg's voice grew even more metallic, if this were possible. "Alien 
connections would be disruptive to the network."
     Paris fought hard to keep himself from grinning. The bluff was working!
     However, the smile died unseen when he heard the Borg speak again, to the 
countless minds surrounding them. "Pair theory testing will continue now."
     The Borg reached out, too swiftly for Tom even to move, and shoved B'Elanna 
roughly across the room. Enraged, Paris began to charge him--and ran straight into 
a steel wall that hadn't been there before.
     He was enclosed in a tiny cell now--alone.
     Although he'd been scared ever since they came to the Borg vessel--any sane 
man would be--Tom had never let himself panic. Now, though, terror was dangerously 
close. What were they doing to her? "B'Elanna!" he shouted, more in horror than 
with any hope of being heard.
     And yet, she was still close. "Tom! What are they doing?"
     Paris realized that Torres was just on the other side of the thin wall--he 
noticed that, like other Borg compartments, the walls had thin gaps between 
corners. Not that it would do them any good--half an inch wasn't nearly enough to 
work with--but he could hear her better in the corner. "They've called my bluff," 
he groaned, going walking over to the tiny crack. "They've actually separated us 
to see what will happen."
     "And when we don't die--" B'Elanna sighed, leaning against her own wall. She 
could just see a little of Tom's uniform and sandy hair through the crevice, and 
focused on that to keep her from feeling utterly isolated. "It was a good try, 
though, Paris. I have to hand it to you."
     "Nice to hear that."
     "Hear what?"
     "That tone in your voice--what is it? Hmmm, if I had to put a label on it, 
I'd call it respect. Far cry from our early days, wouldn't you say?"
     Tom's voice was light, teasing--but for the first time, Torres realized that 
their earlier conflict had hurt him. She knew now how desperately he wanted 
respect, how he'd fought to earn trust after his colorful past. In those early 
days, he'd seemed so bullheaded--how could she not have seen how vulnerable he 
really was? "You're a good pilot and a good officer, Tom. And for what it's worth, 
I think you're a good man. I do respect you. I have for a long time. I wish I'd 
told you sooner."
     Paris, to his own astonishment, realized he was blushing. He hadn't expected 
her to take him so seriously, but it felt damn good to finally be taken seriously 
again. "I--thanks, B'Elanna. I wish I hadn't acted like such a pig for so long; 
then you might have had reason to tell me sooner. And, for what it's worth," Tom 
felt his mouth go slightly dry; was he actually going to say this? Get over it, 
Paris! What have you got to lose? "For what it's worth, B'Elanna--you're an 
amazing woman. I can't think of anyone whose respect means more to me."
     There was a long, quiet pause; Tom swallowed hard, surprised at how moved and 
confused he felt. Desperate to lighten the moment, he blurted out, "I mean, I'd 
hate to have you start telling the crew I'm a terrible kisser."
     "That's not the kind of respect you meant," she replied.
     "No - it's not," Tom sighed.
     There was another long pause - then B'Elanna said slowly. "You're not a 
terrible kisser."
     "Neither are you," Tom replied. He glanced over at the tiny crevice in the 
wall. There wasn't enough space for him to see her, really, but maybe, "B'Elanna, 
put your hand up to the wall here, in the corner."
     Torres frowned, but did so, and gasped as she felt Tom's fingertip brush her 
own. One small touch, and it electrified her as even their earlier kisses had not. 
Those were forced by the moment. This - this moment of contact - was real. She 
leaned her face against the cool steel that separated them. "Thank you," she 
whispered.
     "What for?" Tom asked, his own voice strangely hushed.
     "For my only birthday party." She brushed against his fingertip with her own, 
cherishing this one small touch they were allowed to share. Then, suddenly, she 
jerked her head back from the wall. "Wait, Tom, I've got it!"
     "Got what?" Paris said, surprised by the sudden change in tone.
     "A possible way to get us out of here," she replied.

Part 5

Chakotay sat in his quarters, morosely staring at the coffee mug in his hand. Why 
was HE the one allowed to return to the ship? Why did he always manage to avoid 
the dangerous situations, while everyone else risked their lives? He, the First 
Officer, who was supposed to be responsible for the others?
     The others...
     He found his mind focusing on B'Elanna. If anyone was stubborn and 
resourceful enough to escape the Borg, it was she. And if there was anyone 
impulsive enough to get herself killed, it was she. I'm worrying like a father, he 
reflected.
     The coffee was cold. Technically, Chakotay was off duty for the evening, but 
he couldn't stop worrying...and besides, the captain was probably worn out. He 
left the half-empty mug on the end table and headed for the bridge.

Janeway strode from her ready room to the bridge and assessed her crew. "Did you 
all follow orders?" she asked. "Has everyone had at least a LITTLE rest?"
     Guilty glances.
     "I thought not. Well," she softened, "I didn't either. Are we ready, 
Commander?"
     Chakotay nodded. "I guess we're all about to see what kind of actors we would 
have been."
     "Commander, I expect nothing less than a stellar performance from all of us. 
Mr. Kim, hail the Borg vessel."
     "No response, Captain."
     Janeway hadn't expected one. "Then I want to broadcast a message on all 
subspace frequencies."
     "Go ahead, Captain."
     "This is the Federation starship Voyager. Borg vessel: you are holding four 
of our crew. Return them immediately, or a state of war will exist between us. You 
have one minute to comply."

The wall dissolved into nothingness. With the sudden loss of the wall they had 
been leaning against, both Tom and B'Elanna lost their balance and toppled into 
each other. They stepped back, like guilty teenagers.
     "Well," quipped Tom, covering the emotion again, "I don't know what you did, 
but you're right. Whatever it was, it was a good idea." 
     B'Elanna snorted. "Paris, even I can't work THAT fast."
     "Ah. That must mean--yes, here he is. Our Favorite Friend." The Borg said 
nothing, but merely pointed a peculiar device directly at Tom's chest. "What's 
that thi-" Tom uttered a small "woof" of surprise and his eyes grew wide.
     "What's happening? What are you doing to him?!" shrieked B'Elanna.
     "Your 'other' cannot inhale, and his lungs have been emptied of oxygen."
     Tom looked wildly from B'Elanna, to the Borg, and then back to her. She could 
sense rather than see his rising panic.
     She whirled on the Borg. "Stop it!!" she shouted. "He can't breathe! You're 
killing him!" She lunged at the Borg, but it calmly pointed the device at her, and 
she pulled up. She watched helplessly as Tom slowly collapsed to his hands and 
knees on the grid floor, making small, choked, hiccuping noises. She knelt beside 
him, absolutely enraged, and screamed, "I'll kill you! I SWEAR it! You let him die 
and I'll make you ALL suffer! I'll--"
     "Will you trade his place?"
     "I--" she started, but a fist gripped her wrist, so firm as to almost be 
painful. She forced her eyes to meet his. Those eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes.
     No, they implored.
     "Yes," she said defiantly.
     "You risk your lives to take control of this vessel and be free. You reach 
for each other even in total darkness. You must touch each other. You attempt to 
prevent others from being assimilated, and you are willing to sacrifice your life 
to save the life of your 'other'. You speak of 'humanity' and 'compassion'," said 
the Borg.
     "We have been looking for you."
     The Borg calmly pointed the device at Tom again, and activated it again. Tom 
collapsed completely, heaving great breaths. B'Elanna stared at the Borg, mouth 
still agape from the shock. Tom held one hand to his chest, as if he needed to 
feel its rise and fall. He managed to gasp out, "You don't sound much like the 
Borg I'm familiar with. Don't tell me you guys have turned over a new leaf?"
     The combined voices of the ship spoke again. But this time, it was not the 
mindless rasp of a thousand drones, but voices--real voices, that seemed stronger 
and louder and yet no longer frightening. "We are not the Borg."
     And suddenly, the ship was made of light --

"War will exist between our peoples." Janeway stood firm, hands on him, hoping 
against hope that she looked more intimidating than she felt. What had the Borg to 
fear from them? Only one thing, as far as she could tell--complications. Borg 
didn't like complications. This was the worst threat she had to offer.
     And she meant every word of it.
     "War." If anything, the voices of the Borg became more disapproving. 
"Biological life forms wish to destroy other forms of life."
     "We do NOT wish it," Janeway said. "But we will protect our people if they 
are in danger."
     "Scans indicate that your vessel is no match for ours."
     Kathryn took a deep breath. "Maybe not. Maybe we don't stand much of a 
chance. But maybe--just maybe--we do. And I'm going to take that chance, unless 
our people are returned to us."
     "You risk your deaths for only four individual units?"
     Tuvok spoke. "For Captain Janeway, the needs of the few sometimes outweigh 
the needs of the many. It is not logical--" he glanced over at his captain with an 
expression that, in anyone else, would have been affectionate pride-- "but it is 
often right."
     Astonishingly, the Borg smiled.
     Chakotay's hand gripped her shoulder as the screen filled with light--

Tom shut his eyes hastily against the sudden blinding light. After a second, he 
opened them again, blinking, and looked out at the interior of a Borg ship. It 
seemed less forbidding now that it was better lit, but there was no mistaking the 
design. Especially since dozens of Borg stood there, surrounding the two officers 
huddled on the floor. B'Elanna squeezed his hand tighter, and he squeezed back. He 
could almost taste her bitter disappointment, the kin to his own. Just when it had 
seemed like things were finally going to change for the better...
     "We are not the Borg," the voices repeated, "anymore."
     This is getting more confusing every--wait a minute. Those voices sound 
wrong... He looked around again, and spotted what he had missed the first time.
     "Tom, the Borg!" There was shock in her voice...shock, and hope.
     "Yeah," he nodded, "I see it too, 'Lanna."
     The Borg had expressions. Not the callous, mechanical masks that Tom had come 
to hate in the hours since he'd come on board, but real, honest-to-God, individual 
expressions. They didn't seem like unfriendly ones, either, more like--hungry? Bad 
image, he decided, but appropriate. They regarded Tom and B'Elanna as if they had 
something that the Borg desperately wanted. Maybe we do, he thought.
     Beside him, B'Elanna let out a long breath, and then turned quickly to him. 
"Tom? Are you...all right?" Her eyes were dark with concern, and the previous 
terror in her voice--when she had watched him dying--ran through his memory.
     "Uh--I think so. No real harm done." He tried to smile carelessly, but he was 
too confused and shaken to pull it off. She nodded, but kept hold of his hand as 
they stood up, and wrapped a supportive arm around his waist once they were on 
their feet.
     "Now," B'Elanna said to the assembled Borg, "since we've come on board your 
vessel, we've been attacked, terrified, manipulated, and nearly killed. And now 
you say you've been looking for us? We'll listen to an explanation, but it had 
better be good."
     Tom's grin was genuine this time. You tell 'em, B'Elanna!
     A Borg stepped forward. It might have been the Borg who'd almost suffocated 
Tom, or it might not have--it was hard to tell. "My name is Kynn," he said. One 
more surprise. "Our...people were Borg before; we have no name now."
     "When?" Tom interrupted. "I mean, how long ago were you Borg?"
     Kynn hesitated. "I believe...centuries?"
     No wonder the ship looks different from the ones we know!
     "How did you quit being Borg?" B'Elanna asked, sounding bewildered.
     "There was a...malfunction. The cause was never isolated, but a unit aboard 
this ship developed...an individual personality. The effect spread slowly and 
subtly, but by the time it was discovered, all the units aboard this ship had been 
affected. To prevent contamination, we were...isolated from the rest of the 
collective."
     "Isolated?" Tom interrupted again. "You mean, they threw you out?" Kynn 
didn't seem to understand, and he rephrased it. "You were no longer part of the 
collective?"
     "That is correct."
     B'Elanna was frowning, the way she did when she was trying to diagnose an 
engine problem. "So you were all still connected to each other, but not to the 
collective. And you all had individual personalities, so you couldn't just form a 
miniature collective."
     "That is correct," Kynn repeated.
     Something like horror was in Tom's expression, he knew. To suddenly lose your 
entire way of life, and everything and everyone you'd ever known-- Who does that 
remind me of? he wondered bleakly, and moved a little closer to B'Elanna; she 
didn't object. And it wasn't even their fault. "What happened then?" he asked, 
trying to shake off his unwilling sympathy.
     "We sought instruction," Kynn replied, "in individuality. The first race we 
located, after a year's time," he added, looking at Tom, "was named the Vyarri. We 
learned much from them, but their systems proved...irrational. Wasteful. We 
terminated our association with them."
     "Wasteful of what? Energy?" That was B'Elanna's question, phrased like a true 
engineer.
     "Lives," Kynn answered succinctly.
     "Oh, Jesus," Tom breathed, suddenly understanding. If they'd run into an 
aggressive, warring race, whose members fought constantly, like the Kazon, what 
must the "instruction" provided have been like for a bunch of people who were all 
telepathically connected? The temptation to strike out at each other must have 
been irresistible, and the results would have been devastating. "Did any of you 
die?"
     "Fourteen." Kynn's tone was generally hard to read, but Tom was sure he'd 
heard grief in it that time. He paused a minute, then continued. "The Vyarri did 
not possess compassion, or...caring. We learned of this only through its absence. 
It seemed to us that such traits would be necessary to an existence such as ours. 
But there were no teachers, and our existence was becoming difficult to bear. A 
decision was reached. We placed ourselves in hibernation, to wait for teachers."
     "And that's...us? Teachers in compassion and caring?" Incredulous, he could 
almost hear his father's scoffing voice--then his eyes slid sideways to B'Elanna's 
face, and he banished the phantom fiercely.
     "That is you," Kynn confirmed.
     He could feel B'Elanna starting to say something, and the look of outrage on 
her face told him what it would be. "B'Elanna, NO!" he hissed in her ear. Before 
she could go on, he said loudly, "Excuse me, Kynn. We need a few minutes alone to 
discuss this."
     Kynn looked mulish, and Tom didn't try to keep the exasperation out of his 
voice. "Look, you owe us. And you say you need us. So back off, all right?" 
Reluctantly, the Borg moved out of earshot. Tom hoped, anyway.
     He thought he saw reluctant admiration on B'Elanna's face, but it vanished as 
she pulled away and turned on him. "Don't you EVER try to shut me up, Tom Paris!" 
she hissed.
     "You were going to say no, weren't you?" he hissed back.
     "So what? After everything they've put us through, you want to HELP them? 
Give me one good reason!"
     "I can't!" he nearly yelled, then stopped and tried to wrestle down his 
temper. Since when can she make me this furious? "I can't," he repeated more 
calmly, "but I can't think of a good reason for the captain to have taken a chance 
on me, either. But she did."
     "You see yourself in them?" She sounded surprised.
     "That look in their eyes. So lost, so damned uncertain. Almost screaming, 
'Please help me. Please give me some purpose. Please, don't turn away from me.'" 
Tom's hands clenched, then opened again, convulsively. "Yeah."
     The silence was endless; Tom studied the floor, feeling sick. He didn't want 
her disgust, or her pity.
     But when her warm hand touched his arm, and he looked up, he didn't see 
either. Only acceptance, and understanding. "Remind me to tell you sometime," she 
said with a small smile, "what I was doing for a living when I hooked up with 
Chakotay."
     Paris returned her smile, his a bit uncertain, and a bit embarrassed. He'd 
just revealed more of himself to this woman in the past few minutes than he had to 
anyone in the past year, even Harry. It left an uncomfortable feeling in the pit 
of his stomach. He didn't like leaving himself open like this, yet when he looked 
in her eyes, it somehow felt right that he should share this part of himself with 
her.
     Giving Tom a look full of understanding, B'Elanna said softly, "Okay, 
hotshot, go for it." She turned them back toward the Borg.
     Addressing Kynn, Tom said, "OK, the first thing you need to do is stop this 
ship and open communications with Voyager. The captain will want to speak with 
you."
     "She is like you?" questioned Kynn, a bit suspiciously, as if he did not 
quite trust them yet.
     Paris nodded, trying not to hold Kynn's suspicious nature against him. Given 
how these Borg had been living, he could hardly blame them. "If you think I'm full 
of understanding and compassion, wait 'til you meet her." Softening his tone, he 
said, "She's really the one you should be talking to anyway."
     Looking disappointed, almost like a child, Kynn said, "We are talking to her. 
You do not wish to continue conversing with me?"
     Surprised, Tom could only stare for a moment. "No, it isn't that, it's just 
that Captain Janeway is in a position of authority to make certain decisions that 
I'm not. If you'd like to talk more later," he shrugged, "I'll be around. Just ask 
for me."
     Kynn considered them for a long moment. Finally, when he spoke, it was with 
the awkwardness of not being skilled at making small talk. "You have names?" he 
asked.
     Paris nodded. "My name is Tom Paris. This is B'Elanna Torres. And the other 
two crewmen who were with us are Ethan Simms and Mikel Hudson, who, by the way, 
are still missing."
     "They are safe," Kynn reassured him.
     "We'd like to see that for ourselves," B'Elanna said, still not completely 
trusting these "new-and-improved" Borg.
     Kynn turned and spoke to one of his comrades behind him. The Borg left the 
room as Kynn turned back to Paris and Torres. "The other two--Ethan Simms and 
Mikel Hudson?--will be brought here shortly."
     Another of the other Borg whispered in Kynn's ear. Kynn looked at Paris and 
Torres. "You may contact your ship now. We will speak with Captain Janeway."
     Exchanging an uncertain look with B'Elanna, Tom hesitantly touched his comm 
badge. "Paris to Voyager."
     There was a slight pause, then Janeway's concerned voice came over the link. 
"Mr. Paris, are you all right?"
     "I'm fine, Captain. B'Elanna's here with me, and we've been assured that 
Hudson and Simms are safe."
     "Tom, the Borg ship's shields are down. We're beaming you out of there."

On the Voyager bridge, heads swiveled in confusion when Paris said, "Captain, 
wait." After a brief lull, Paris came back on line. "Captain, one of the Borg 
would like to beam over with us to talk with you. He has an intriguing story to 
relate."
     Janeway looked at Chakotay who looked as uneasy as she felt. Addressing 
Paris, she asked, "Does Lt. Torres concur with this?"
     "Captain," came Torres' voice, "I understand your apprehension, but I agree 
with Tom. Allow Kynn to beam over with us. I think you'll be interested to hear 
what he has to say."
     "Very well," Janeway agreed. "We'll beam you over shortly." Cutting the link, 
she looked at Chakotay. "Commander, care to join me?"
     "I wouldn't miss this," he replied, joining her as she headed for the 
turbolift.
     "Tuvok, have a security team meet us in the transporter room," she 
instructed. "You have the bridge."

Part 6

Although he knew they were coming, Chakotay couldn't help being amazed at the 
sight of B'Elanna and Tom, a little the worse for wear, and a Borg. A smiling Borg 
at that.
     He could tell by the set of Captain Janeway's shoulders that she, too, was 
wary, but her voice was even and warm as she said, "Welcome back, you two. Tom, 
introductions seem to be in order."
     "Captain Janeway, this is Kynn of the Borg. Former Borg?" He shrugged as he 
gestured to the alien. "Kynn, this is Captain Janeway. She's our leader."
     "One individual makes decisions for the collective?"
     "We aren't a collective in the sense you mean, Kynn," Janeway said, not 
unkindly. "But I make decisions for the crew as a whole, yes."
     "We have a request." Kynn was apparently ready to swing into negotiations 
right there in the transporter room.
     Janeway held up a hand. "Wait just a moment--before I hear this request, I 
need to hear this story."

Chakotay shook his head slowly as he returned to the table of the conference room; 
the saga of how the Borg had become individuals had astonished him. Janeway as 
well, to judge from the pallor of her skin--he unobtrusively slid a cup of herbal 
tea in front of her before sitting down. She acknowledged him with a quick smile 
before returning her attention to Kynn.
     "Your people have made an incredible beginning," she said, "but you still 
have a long way to go towards understanding compassion and humanity. Kidnapping, 
mind games, those tactics won't get you far."
     "We realize that our tactics are poor. We needed to find life forms like you. 
Life forms who possessed these qualities. Now that we have found you, we can begin 
to learn."
     Chakotay shot Janeway a glance across the table. Were they being asked to 
spend the next few years tutoring Borg on manners and morals? The captain frowned, 
but before she could speak Kynn finally made his request.
     "We ask that you allow these two to be assimilated," Kynn said, motioning 
towards Tom and B'Elanna.
     "Now, wait just a minute--" Janeway started to rise from her chair.
     "No, Captain, hear him out," Tom said, as B'Elanna stared at him, slack-
jawed.
     Kynn resumed speaking. "We would not join with them permanently. We realize 
they would not wish this. We do not wish to cause any more harm."
     "Temporary assimilation?" Chakotay said. "Towards what end?"
     "Through joining with their minds, we can learn from their compassion. Their 
humanity. Their love."
     Torres felt the blush begin to creep up from her collar, spreading slowly up 
her face all the way to her hair. Paris cleared his throat. "Ummm, you mean, you'd 
be one with our minds? Know our innermost thoughts?"
     "To learn from them, yes." Kynn obviously saw no difficulties with this 
marvelous plan.
     Janeway shook her head. "Kynn, this is one of the decisions I cannot make for 
my people. I could forbid them to do it. I'm tempted to. But something tells me 
Mr. Paris is determined to try this."
     "Tom, are you crazy?" B'Elanna said, relieved that nobody was talking about 
love anymore.
     He turned back to her. "Hear me out, will you?"
     Janeway tugged at Chakotay's sleeve. "Let's give them a moment, shall we?" 
Kynn, after a few seconds, realized he was meant to follow Chakotay and the 
captain, and did so.
     Tom and B'Elanna were alone in the room. Before he could begin speaking, 
Torres shook her head at him. "Oh, no, Paris. No way. You're NEVER going to 
convince me that this is a good idea!"

Tuvok and Kynn were regarding each other with perfect, mirror-image equanimity. 
Janeway had to suppress a smile. They came to this ship to learn about emotion, so 
let's see what they make of a Vulcan guide. Next time, ask nicely--
     Chakotay was staring back at the doors to the conference room, shaking his 
head in amazement. "I don't believe it."
     "Believe what? That Tom's considering this plan?"
     "No. Well, that too, but, did Kynn say 'love'?"
     Janeway smiled. "He certainly did."
     "B'Elanna and Tom?" Chakotay was careful to keep his voice low, but his 
astonishment was apparent on his face. "They fight all the time! They've always 
fought. They're in there fighting right now. They can't stand each other--right?"
     It was Janeway's turn to be astonished. "And you didn't realize what all that 
fighting was about?"
     She turned away from him, shaking her head and laughing softly. Men.

"Paris, forget it. No," said B'Elanna, rising from her seat. "No," she paused, 
"no, no, no, no, no."
     "Does this mean you'll think about it?" But his heart sank. Ah, he thought, 
it's back to 'Paris' now that we're back on board.
     "Paris, I will NEVER agree to this."
     "What if they promise to give you free rein in their engineering system? What 
about that superdrive?"
     "You idiotic space cowboy! This is a non-issue! NO!"
     "But B'Elanna, they need us. They need to learn about friendship, compassion, 
and, um, other stuff."
     "I....can't."
     Now we're getting somewhere.
     "Can't, or won't?" queried Tom.
     B'Elanna stared down at the padd on the table in front of her. "You don't 
understand."
     "I do understand, B'Elanna. There are things inside your head you're afraid 
for anyone to hear, because you're afraid to hear them yourself. Isn't that it? 
Why would you think I wouldn't understand THAT? Because of my sterling Starfleet 
career? My undivided loyalty to the Maquis? My happy family life?"
     His sarcasm was not wasted on her. "Maybe it's all those warm personal 
relationships you have with," she paused, "others."
     "Maybe with them I just hadn't found what I was looking for." He stood close. 
Too close. B'Elanna edged toward the door of the conference room.
     "Hey, things happened over there. We were stressed out. Let's just forget it, 
okay? I'm going now. I want a hot shower, a nap, and something to eat." She paused 
by the door. "Tom?"
     "What?"
     "Thanks for the party."

Kynn did not expect to see Tom Paris without B'Elanna Torres. Tom Paris sat alone 
in the empty conference room with his eyes shut. "Where is your other?" he said 
simply.
     Tom Paris slowly opened his eyes and looked around. No one was present but 
Kynn. Tom stood, stretched, put his arm around Kynn's shoulder, and tapped his 
chest over his heart. "Maybe she's here, my friend, maybe she's here."
     "Say, Kynn, have you ever heard of a game called pool?"

Stepping into Sandrine's, B'Elanna almost turned around and walked back out when 
she saw who was there, but she hesitated just a moment too long and Harry, 
spotting her standing uncertainly in the doorway, motioned her over.
     "Join us over here, B'Elanna." Harry Kim sat at a table with Tom Paris and 
Kynn. As she approached the table, B'Elanna's eyes met Paris'. She was surprised 
to find no censure there--no accusing glare intended to make her feel guilty over 
her refusal to assist Kynn and the others. He merely smiled at her and signaled 
for Sandrine to bring another ale over for her.
     As Torres sat at the table, Harry said, "Paris was just telling me what 
happened to you on the Borg ship."
     Alarmed, B'Elanna's eyes flew to Tom's face. He wouldn't--
     Paris shrugged and grinned at her. "I edited it a bit," he reassured her.
     Still on her guard, B'Elanna took a drink of the ale that Sandrine had set in 
front of her. Her eyes narrowed as Paris leaned back in his chair, loose and 
relaxed. He was up to something; she was sure of it. She knew him well enough to 
know that much about him. Her fears were confirmed moments later when Kynn spoke.
     "The captain has advised me that you and Tom Paris have decided not to assist 
us." His voice held disappointment.
     Torres bristled, and when Harry turned to her, his expression full of 
optimism and enthusiasm, B'Elanna suddenly saw what Tom had been up to.
     "Where's your sense of adventure, B'Elanna?" asked Harry. "Here's your chance 
to make a difference, to help these people. Would it really be so bad?"
     "Bad?" B'Elanna's voice was full of indignant outrage. They all straightened 
away from her, even Kynn, who had been warned by Paris and Kim of her temper, when 
she jumped to her feet, nearly overturning the table in the process. "BAD?! How 
would you like to have someone go traipsing through your innermost thoughts, 
analyzing them? No thank you." She addressed Kynn, her voice tight. "You've got 
Paris. Sift through his brain, what there is of it. What do you need me for?"
     Paris, once again relaxed and smiling, seemed unaffected by her intended 
slurs against him, but Kynn looked startled.
     "You are one," he told B'Elanna. "We require...we need to experience the 
sensation of your emotions--more specifically, your emotions toward each other. In 
order to accomplish this, the assimilation requires that both of you participate."
     Throwing a final glare in their general direction, B'Elanna turned and 
marched to the exit without another word. The doors slid shut behind her.
     "I do not understand," said Kynn, looking from Paris to Kim then back to 
Paris again. Before either man could respond, the holodeck doors slid open and 
Torres stood there, her whole demeanor defiant.
     But her voice, when she spoke, was quiet. "All right. I'll do it." She held 
up a hand as they all made to speak at once. "Not a word," she said sternly. 
"Let's just get it over with."
     When she spotted Tom starting to smile at her she added, "I will participate 
in your little experiment. But when it is finished, it is finished. Understand?" 
With a glare in Tom's direction she turned on her heel and disappeared down the 
hall.
     "Whew! Are you sure you were telling me everything that went on between you 
two while you were on your little adventure?" asked Harry looking at Tom closely.
     Paris grinned at Harry and placed an arm around Kynn's shoulders and turned 
him towards the pool table. "I promised you I would teach you the finer points of 
pool," remarked Tom.
     "Maybe we better call the captain, then."
     "Very funny, Harry, very funny."
     Harry and Tom laughed and Kynn looked puzzled as he tried to figure out what 
was going on. He was anxious to get on with the assimilation, but for now, he 
would observe how this species interacted with one another on a social level.

Damn Tom Paris! B'Elanna marched down the corridor, fists clenched. What had he 
just talked her into doing? And he hadn't even uttered a word, just sat there with 
that smug grin. And using Harry--Paris knew she had a weakness where Harry was 
concerned. She was fond of the ensign. He had been her first true friend among the 
Starfleet crew. It wasn't fair using Harry to spout off all that nonsense about 
adventure and 'making a difference'. That was the stuff they taught at Starfleet 
Academy--a place she had left behind long ago. She didn't need to be reminded of 
it.
     Still unable to believe she had agreed to this insane assimilation scheme, 
she barreled into the mess hall, grabbed a tray, slammed it down on the counter 
and began slamming Neelix's various culinary delights onto it.
     "Lieutenant?" said Neelix uncertainly, "can I help you?"
     Glaring at the Talaxian, B'Elanna ground out, "Do you have a sharp knife?"
     Swallowing nervously at her fierce expression, Neelix said, "A sharp knife? 
For what, if I may ask?"
     "I'm going to use it to gut Tom Paris."
     Sudden understanding lit Neelix's face. "Ahhh. Yes. I heard about you and 
Tom."
     Leaning across the counter, her face mere inches from his, she spat, "Just 
exactly what did you hear?"
     "Uh, well, that is, you see..." Neelix's expression crumbled. Maybe that had 
been the wrong thing to say. He had a sudden vision of B'Elanna dragging him over 
the counter and tossing him across the room. A soft voice behind him caused him to 
sag with relief.
     "Good evening, Lieutenant," greeted Kes. "I'm glad to see you're safely back 
aboard."
     "Kes!" squeaked Neelix. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Kes, dearest. 
Are you here for dinner?"
     Much to Neelix's relief, B'Elanna had backed off when Kes arrived. Attempting 
to get her anger under control, B'Elanna picked up her dinner tray and headed for 
a nearby table. She was surprised when Kes joined her. She and Kes hadn't actually 
spent much time together and were not well acquainted.
     "May I join you?" asked Kes.
     Torres indicated the empty seat across from her. When Kes didn't immediately 
say anything, B'Elanna looked up from her dinner inquiringly.
     "I understand that the Borg have asked for yours and Tom's assistance."
     B'Elanna's eyes narrowed. "You've been talking to Paris."
     Kes shook her head. "Actually, I haven't seen Tom yet." Her large blue eyes 
seemed to look right through B'Elanna. "You're upset with him. Why?"
     Shrugging, B'Elanna returned her attention to her dinner, pushing the food 
around, but not eating any of it. "He wants to help the Borg. I don't."
     Kes looked puzzled. "You've never struck me as being insensitive."
     "I'm not insensitive," B'Elanna protested, "just..."
     Kes smiled understandingly. "Scared?" B'Elanna didn't reply.
     "I can understand how what the Borg are proposing would be frightening," said 
Kes, "but I can't think of a more appropriate group of people for them to choose 
to emulate. You--all of you--amaze me," confided Kes. "You're such a giving 
people, so full of life. It's no wonder the Borg are drawn to you. You exemplify 
the one thing that has eluded them. If it hadn't been for your willingness to go 
that extra step, to give of yourselves and help others, I would most likely still 
be a prisoner of the Kazon--or dead. Destroying the Caretaker's Array to stop the 
Kazon from gaining control of it and using it to harm others was a huge sacrifice. 
It resulted in your being left in the this quadrant with no immediate way home. 
I've seen people on this crew time and time again give of themselves to help 
others, including yourself. Is this so different?" Kes reached over and placed a 
soothing hand over one of B'Elanna's. "I trust you to do the right thing, 
B'Elanna."
     After Kes left, B'Elanna sat there, her thoughts in a turmoil. She had made 
up her mind before she even entered the mess hall that after dinner she would seek 
Paris out and tell him that she had changed her mind--that she wasn't going to do 
it. He was asking too much. But was he? Kes...B'Elanna felt ashamed as the 
Ocampan's words replayed in her head. What if the tables were turned? What if she 
were the one who needed help and had been refused it? How would she feel?
     She knew how she would feel. Her childhood had not been easy. There had been 
times when she HAD needed help and hadn't received it. Years later, when she had 
been at the end of her rope, a Human--new to the Maquis--had recruited her. HE had 
helped her. And ever since, Chakotay had never once let her down. Maybe it was 
time she gave a little of that back. Swallowing her trepidation, she tapped her 
comm badge. "Computer, location of Lt. Paris."

Mikel Hudson took a long pull on his mug of beer. Sure, it wasn't really beer, 
just synthehol, but it looked like beer, smelled like beer, tasted like beer, and, 
most importantly, it wasn't Borg beer. That, plus the fact that Tuvok had relieved 
both him and Simms of duty for twenty-four hours, made him a happy man. Life was 
good. 
     "Ethan, check it out. Lt. Torres just came in. Man, I would not mess with 
her. Tell me again what happened while I was separated from you guys."
     "Mik, I've told you twice already."
     Over the rim of his mug Hudson watched what appeared to be an argument 
developing between Lt. Paris, Lt. Torres, Ensign Kim, and the creepy 'ambassador' 
from the Borg ship. "But she's so...so COLD."
     "Not when Lt. Paris was kissing her, especially the second time. She looked 
like one of Neelix's pots about to boil over. You should have seen it."
     "I wish I HAD seen it. Jeez, Ethe, if I didn't know you better I'd say you 
were making it all up. I mean, I didn't even guess about those two. Why am I 
always the last to know anything?"
     "Last? I'd say you were the second, because I was first, and I just told you. 
And I suggest you don't tell anybody."
     "Not even--"
     "No, especially not her. Remember what Tuvok said at the last Security staff 
meeting? About discretion? Made me feel like a campus cop, but now I think I get 
what he was driving at."
     Hudson looked thoughtful. "Wonder if it'll last?"
     "Look, she's leaving. Lieutenant Paris must have gotten what he wanted, he 
looks smug. When I turned in my report, Tuvok told me the Borg want to temporarily 
assimilate Lieutenant Paris and Lieutenant Torres. Get into their minds. Ask them 
questions. See what makes them tick."
     "'Tick?'"
     "Old Earth expression. Look, now she's coming back."
     There was a long pause.
     "Ethe?"
     "Yeah?"
     "I think they did that to me."
     "What?"
     "Before we got out. I think...When you said that just now...When I was alone 
with them, I could hear them thinking, 'We have questions.' I told them, 'I will 
not help you.' And they said something like, 'You will not remember'. But I said, 
'No.' And they said, 'OK'."
     "'OK'? They actually SAID 'OK'?"
     "Jeez, Ethan, you know what I mean. It wasn't really words. They were 
thinking at me, and I just heard it."
     "So if the Lieutenants do this, they may not remember anything about it."
     "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe not 'til later. Maybe not at all."
     "We'd better tell Tuvok."

Everything was quiet aboard Voyager, which was fine by Paris. He liked to have 
action, but there were times he longed for just peace and quiet. It was late at 
night, if there was such a thing aboard a starship, and the lights were in dim 
mode through out the ship. The only active places were Engineering and on the 
bridge. Those two places were always manned even in the wee hours of the morning.
     B'Elanna is most likely sound asleep by now, thought Paris to himself. After 
their little adventure with the Borg, most of the ship's crew were asleep or at 
least in their quarters. Too many thoughts were racing through Paris' head at the 
moment for him to get a restful night's sleep yet.
     So he just sat on his sofa looking out the window, thinking. He knew what the 
main problem was, he just didn't know what to do about it. For the first time in 
his life he was wondering if he could be in love, and it scared him. He felt very 
unsure of himself, and he hated that feeling. Get a grip, Paris! he thought to 
himself. Maybe I should come right out and tell her. Tell her what? 'I think maybe 
I'm in love with you'? Yeah, right, and she would reply by decking me, he thought.
     Well, Grand always told him that it was all right to see as many women as he 
wanted to--to have fun, but that it would come to a quick end when he came across 
the right one. So far it looked like B'Elanna Torres was that one whether she 
liked it or not. Whether I like it or not! Oh well, no use thinking about it any 
more tonight, he thought, because there's nothing I can do yet. You need to get 
some sleep, Thomas my boy. You have a big day tomorrow being assimilated.
     Heaving a sigh he got up from the sofa and started to his bed. He was just 
passing the door when the chimes sounded. Who that could be at this time of night? 
he wondered. Aloud, he said, "Come in."
     The door opened with a soft whoosh and the object of his thoughts stood there 
looking ready to bolt back down the hallway where she had come from. Tom closed 
his eyes for a second and then reopened them just to make sure he wasn't seeing 
things. He took a step backwards to let her pass as she walked in. She stopped in 
the middle of the room and surveyed the surroundings. This was the first time she 
had ever been in Tom's quarters and she was curious to see if the decor reflected 
his personality.
     "Uhh, hi," Tom fumbled for words. Brilliant, Paris, he thought. That'll 
really sweep B'Elanna off her feet. He took an awkward step closer to her. "I 
thought you'd be asleep by now." Another smooth line. He gave her an offhand look, 
his nervousness carefully concealed.
     B'Elanna shook her head, and began to pace the floor. "I needed to talk," she 
said, barely above a whisper. "You--you're the only one who will understand. You 
know what they did to me." She folded her arms across her chest, and he swore he 
could see her trembling slightly.
     Tom's own surprise and nervousness vanished at the sight of B'Elanna's 
obvious inner turmoil. It was extremely hard to resist the urge to wrap his arms 
around her in a comforting embrace. But Tom knew she wouldn't accept that from 
him, it smacked of pity. Instead, he silently watched as she paced his floor, her 
eyes flashing.
     "I don't want to be some kind of 'experiment'. I've had enough of that." 
B'Elanna took deep breaths. She would NOT let him see how close she was to crying, 
to completely losing her composure. "I'm never going to be able to block those 
memories, that pain, out of my mind. What if something goes wrong. What if the 
assimilation is permanent?"
     She stopped her pacing, and stood very close to him. "I don't want to ever be 
that vulnerable--that out of control of myself--again. They violated me! You saw 
them, you heard me scream with pain from the Phage. I'm..." I have to say it, she 
thought frantically. He's the only one I can tell. "I'm SCARED, Tom." She looked 
straight into his beautiful blue eyes. "I've never been more scared in my life 
than I am of reliving what I went through."
     Tom swallowed hard. His heart broke to hear her talk like this. Her pain was 
so near, he felt he could touch it. And yet, she'd chosen to confide in him. That 
must mean something, Tom told himself. I have to help her, somehow ease her fears.
     B'Elanna resumed her pacing. Paris watched her pace--the same frantic pacing 
she had done on the Borg ship. "I understand your fear," Tom said softly. "But the 
Doc and Kes will be there monitoring things, and the Captain and Chakotay will be 
there too, and Kynn has promised not to do anything against our will. You'll be in 
control. Anything you don't want to reveal...just slam the door shut. Kynn has 
promised not to trespass."
     B'Elanna stopped her pacing to give him a long look. She could see that he 
was sincere in his belief that this was the right thing to do. She was surprised 
by the strength of the desire coursing through her that made her want to do this 
for him--even though she dreaded the whole ordeal. She didn't want to disappoint 
him. She resumed pacing.
     Sighing, Tom said, "B'Elanna, if you're uncomfortable doing this, we don't 
have to do it. I don't want to force you into anything."
     B'Elanna turned to him, eyes blazing. "One: Nobody FORCES me to do anything. 
Two: This is important to you. Three: I am nervous, but I do want to help these 
people." People? thought B'Elanna. When did I stop thinking of them as Borg?
     Paris smiled, relieved to see the fire back in her eyes. "You won't be alone, 
I promise. I'll be there with you all the way."
     "You better believe you will." Suddenly realizing how close they were 
standing, B'Elanna started to back away. "Well, I better go and let you get some 
sleep..." Her voice trailed off as Tom grasped her hand in his, not letting her 
pull away and his other hand reached out toward her.
     Tom ran a finger down her face in a caress, surprised when she allowed it. 
Careful not to push things too far too quickly, he didn't pursue the brief touch, 
only let it linger for a moment as he stared into her eyes.
     Swallowing nervously, B'Elanna pulled her hand from his and walked to the 
door. Turning back to him once she reached the it, B'Elanna said in a hushed 
voice, "See you in the morning." Turning, she exited his quarters.
     Tom watched the door close behind her. "Sweet dreams, B'Elanna."

Part 7

For a hologram with supposedly no feelings, the Doctor seemed almost cheerful as 
he bustled around sickbay preparing for Paris and Torres. The beds were set up in 
very close proximity to one another. This way, he reasoned, if something DOES 
happen, I can get to both of them quickly.
     The massive doors slid open with a hiss and Kes entered.
     "Back so soon?" the Doctor inquired as he aligned each table with various 
hyposprays. "I did not expect your lesson with Tuvok to be over for another half 
hour."
     Kes nodded. "It wasn't supposed to, but I left early. I wanted to be here for 
the assimilation." She leaned forward to examine the sprays. "Aderozine?"
     He nodded. "Only a mild neural suppressor. Just a precaution. If their brains 
become too stimulated, we may have a problem disassimilating them. The procedure 
will be a bit different from the disassimilation in Captain Jean-Luc Picard's 
case. These Borg have slightly altered their mecha-neural receptors." The Doctor 
moved over to his console. "It was unnecessary to interrupt your lesson. 
Lieutenants Paris and Torres will not begin the procedure for another hour." He 
gave her a dry look.
     "But they'll be here soon for the prep," she countered lightly.
     As if on cue, the doors slid open again, and Tom Paris strode through. He 
looked around the Bay a little anxiously. Where's B'Elanna? he wondered. The 
Doctor, ever oblivious to the body language of his patients, ushered Tom onto one 
of the beds.
     The medical tricorder hummed as it relayed information to the Doctor. 
"Wonderful. You are perfectly healthy," he announced. "We may proceed."
     "Gee, thanks, Doc," Tom said. Kes patted his arm with a smile. He didn't even 
hear the doors open, but when Tom turned around, B'Elanna was surveying the room 
quietly.
     "Splendid," the Doctor said. "You're early too." Like Tom, B'Elanna was 
ushered to a bed and scanned.
     "Why is he so cheerful?" she muttered. The Doctor turned to beam at her.
     "I am testing a new program to improve doctor-patient relations," he told 
her. "Mr. Paris, I am told, mentioned something about my bedside manner needing a 
little work. So I have created a program compiled on all the data I could find on 
being pleasant and happy. What do you think? Would you like to hear a joke? Well, 
it seems that a Telerian on a journey to Algos Prime..." His voice trailed off, 
and Tom swore he could hear a slight growling sound coming from B'Elanna's throat. 
Tom grinned to himself.

Tom was surprised that B'Elanna had withstood the Doc's stand-up comedy routine as 
long as she had, but he had the feeling she was nearing the limits of her 
tolerance when the door to sickbay slid open and Captain Janeway and Commander 
Chakotay entered, escorting Kynn. Finally, thought Paris, we can get on with this 
and get it over with. Although he wouldn't admit it out loud, he was also nervous 
about this whole assimilation thing. He was glad the captain and Chakotay would be 
here to keep an eye on things.
     Captain Janeway smiled as they entered sickbay. "How are your patients, 
Doctor?"
     "They are ready to begin anytime."
     "The sooner the better," growled B'Elanna, glaring at the Doctor.
     Janeway approached Tom's and B'Elanna's biobeds. "Are you ready?" she asked 
quietly. "No last minute qualms? No doubts that this is what you want to do?"
     "Doubts, Captain?" joked Paris lightly. "I've got a bunch of 'em." He 
sobered. "But no doubts that this is the right thing to do."
     Janeway looked over at B'Elanna. "Anything to escape the Doctor's newfound 
sense of humor," she growled. Janeway looked confused--until the Doctor clarified.
     "Ah, yes, Captain," said the hologram. "I am aware of the complaints 
regarding my bedside manner. I have added a program on being happy and pleasant. 
Would you like to hear a joke?"
     Janeway looked at Chakotay, who quirked an amused brow.
     Paris groaned. "Don't let him get started, Captain," he warned.
     "Maybe later, Doctor," replied Janeway. "Right now, I think we should proceed 
with the assimilation."
     Kynn stepped forward. Tom's and B'Elanna's attention was immediately focused 
on him. He held a pair of devices that looked similar to some of the Borg 
implants. They were small, about an inch square. "I will place these on your 
forehead," Kynn explained. "They are a form of neurotransmitter and will help 
facilitate the assimilation. They will cause you no discomfort."
     "May I?" asked the Doctor, holding out a hand.
     Kynn handed the transmitters to the Doctor, who examined them closely. "These 
are similar to some of my medical instruments. Kynn is correct. They should cause 
no discomfort. If anything, it should make the assimilation easier for you." He 
handed the transmitters back to Kynn, who turned to Tom and B'Elanna.
     "May I attach them?" he asked.
     They both indicated their agreement. As Kynn attached the transmitters to 
their foreheads, he said, "When I activate them, you will experience a desire for 
sleep and will enter a light meditative state. We will enter into the assimilation 
slowly so as not to overwhelm you. Are you prepared to begin?"
     Tom looked over at B'Elanna. She was staring fixedly at the ceiling, her 
whole body tense as a coiled spring. Their biobeds were close enough to allow him 
to reach out and take her hand in his. Startled, she looked at their clasped hands 
then met his gaze. Looking into those concerned blue eyes, she felt her tenseness 
melt away. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.
     "Let's get on with it," B'Elanna said. Instead of releasing Tom's hand, as he 
had expected, she kept a tight grip on it. He didn't mind.

Janeway and Chakotay stood side by side watching as Kynn started the assimilation. 
Tuvok had wanted to have security present, but Janeway had vetoed that, having a 
strong suspicion that their presence would only have added to Tom's and B'Elanna's 
discomfort. She had reassured Tuvok that she and Chakotay would be present and 
prepared to act should their intervention become necessary.

Tom felt himself drifting off to sleep, only he was just skimming the surface of 
sleep, never quite achieving a deep sleep. He was still vaguely aware of the 
sounds of sickbay around him and B'Elanna's hand clasped in his. He slowly became 
aware of the Borg Collective. They beckoned to him--nothing malevolent in their 
intent. If anything, the Collective's overall attitude was anticipatory of this 
union. Their desire to learn and expand their horizons was addictive. Tom joined 
them.

B'Elanna knew she was resisting going under, still fearful of losing control of 
the situation, but then she felt Tom give her hand an encouraging squeeze as he 
urged her in the direction of where the Collective waited. And they were waiting. 
No rushing forward to assimilate them. They were waiting for Tom and herself to 
move forward to meet them, like long lost relatives, eagerly anticipating seeing 
their brethren again. B'Elanna took a firm grip on Tom's hand and stepped forward 
to meet them.

Chakotay, saw a smile crease B'Elanna's face. That, more than anything else, 
convinced him that the assimilation was proceeding as planned. Paris had a similar 
smile on his face. Both looked peaceful and relaxed. Chakotay stared at their 
clasped hands. He noted how tightly B'Elanna had seized hold of Paris' hand. 
Chakotay winced. Paris would be lucky if his hand wasn't badly bruised, given 
B'Elanna's Klingon strength. "Everything seems to be proceeding as planned," he 
said softly to Janeway.
     Janeway nodded thoughtfully. She had been watching Kynn. He stood between Tom 
and B'Elanna, eyes wide open, staring straight ahead, his gaze seemingly turned 
inward. Ever so slowly, a smile had been forming on his face. A smile full of joy 
and enlightenment.
     Following the captain's gaze, Chakotay saw Kynn's expression and caught his 
breath. It was...he couldn't find the words to describe seeing the spark of life 
burst into being in the seemingly lifeless Borg. He became aware that Janeway had 
placed a hand on his arm. He looked down to meet her gaze. "It's beautiful, isn't 
it?" she said, her voice full of wonder. "I feel as if I'm present at the birth of 
a new life form."
     Chakotay agreed, and watched raptly as Kynn was transformed by the vitality 
of life seeping into the Collective...

Part 8

"What?" said Captain Janeway, astounded. "You wish to assimilate MORE of my crew?"
     "Captain, we are grateful to B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris for helping us 
begin to learn about being human. Through them, we now have a better understanding 
of your people. We learned about loyalty, pride, gratitude, and honesty. We did 
not understand their feelings of love and physical attraction, which seem to be, 
in their minds, intermingled with..." Kynn struggled for the word, "...doubt? They 
were both reluctant to let us into that part of their being, and we respected 
their..." again he struggled, "...privacy."
     Janeway could feel Chakotay's surprised gaze settle on her. She was glad she 
could count on him to be discreet. But the Borg was continuing.
     "Your crewmen were not entirely honest with us on board our ship, Captain, 
but we understand the need for the ruse, if ruse it was. They were attempting to 
save themselves from termination as individuals. We begin to understand why."
     "However, their assimilation showed us only how much we do NOT know, for we 
learned a little of guilt, shame, loneliness, and jealousy. Are these universal 
emotions?"
     "Let me assure you, Kynn, they are quite universal. ALL humans have doubt and 
regrets. It is a part of what we are. I'm sorry, but I cannot give my permission 
for any further assimilations. Lieutenant Paris and Lieutenant Torres both 
experienced some minor physical reactions. They are still sleeping, even now. Our 
doctor was concerned."
     Kynn looked disappointed. "I understand, Captain. And even that is progress 
for us."

"Are you sure, B'Elanna? Absolutely?" Janeway didn't want to pressure her, she 
looked so tired, but she had to know. 
     "No, Captain," sighed B'Elanna, "their transwarp technology just cannot be 
modified to help us. You've seen how different their ship is from ours. With our 
dynamics, we'd skip through space like a rock on a pond; even our hotshot pilot 
couldn't control it. I'm afraid we're back where we started."
     "Not entirely, I don't think," mused Janeway. To herself she thought, 
Something has changed. She has changed. But she didn't press any further. Leaning 
back in her chair, Janeway picked up her teacup and watched B'Elanna over the rim. 
"I'm proud of the way you handled your away mission. The circumstances were 
extreme, to say the least."
     "You don't remember anything at all about the assimilation?" queried Janeway 
gently.
     "I remember feeling...well, I don't know how to put it. Surrounded by warmth 
and caring. I felt safe. Absolutely safe. And exhilarated. There was a presence 
there. It seemed to be saying, 'Anything is possible. Anything you want.' Captain, 
the irony of the situation is not lost on me, I want you to know that. That 
sentient beings would ask ME for help to learn about being human."
     Janeway smiled. Lieutenant Paris had said almost exactly the same thing to 
her. And he had also mentioned a supportive 'presence' as well. This could not, 
then, be put down to chance. But had he and B'Elanna felt Kynn and the Borg? Or 
each other?
     "I hope you warned the Borg about the Kazon and the Vidiians, Captain."
     "They knew about them already. I don't think you have anything to worry about 
on that score. Go to your quarters and get some rest, B'Elanna. You look like you 
need it."

"Computer, location of Lt. Paris," requested Torres.
     "Lt. Paris is in Holodeck 3."
     "Of course. Where else would he be?" she retorted. The computer made a 
confused noise as her comm badge chirped.
     "Paris to Torres."
     "Forget it."
     "I need to go over some navigational reports with you."
     "At Sandrine's?"
     "That's where I do my best navigating. How did you know I was at Sandrine's?"
     "I know everything."
     "Then you know I won't take 'no' for an answer. Paris out."

B'Elanna hesitated outside the door to Sandrine's. Please, she thought to herself, 
If there is a God on the other side of the River, don't let there be some big 
party in there.
     Sandrine's was empty and dark; no one jumped out at her or yelled anything. 
She sighed with relief. Tom was behind the bar pouring coffee.
     "Surprise," he said, reading her thoughts. "Have some coffee."
     B'Elanna pointed at the several small white cylindrical objects on the bar. 
"And? Just what are these?"
     " Birthday cakes. I made them myself."
     "Those are just marshmallows."
     "Hey, I slaved over a hot replicator making these marshmallows; don't knock 
them," he replied, coming around the bar.
     "Just what are we going to do with them? Throw them at each other?" A ghost 
of a smile crossed her features.
     "Keep it civil, Torres. Now watch. First, we're gonna impale them on this 
transductor coil I straightened out, like this. Second, we're gonna roast them in 
the fire until their little skins blister and their insides turn to mush. Then 
we're gonna assimilate them. See? We're worse than the Borg."
     She couldn't help it. She laughed. "It wasn't so bad, I guess. They seemed 
satisfied. Do you remember anything?"
     "I sure do. You jumped up and started singing the Academy fight song. I can 
tell you, Commander Chakotay was NOT amused."
     "Ha, ha."
     B'Elanna took her impaled marshmallow and knelt before the fire. "You know, 
I've never done this before."
     Tom made himself comfortable beside her. "I'll think there's quite a few 
things you've never done before," he said softly. "I could help you out there, you 
know."
     B'Elanna could feel a blush creeping up her face. "And just WHAT is THAT 
supposed to mean?" she snapped.
     "Nothing in particular," said Tom coolly. "So. Just how old are you?"
     "Old enough to know better," she quipped.
     "Young enough not to care?" he asked, eyes dancing.
     "Don't smirk at me, you egotist." She tried to sound harsh, but she knew he 
wasn't buying it this time. "You never gave me anything for my birthday."
     Tom got serious. "I know what I want to give you. I just this moment figured 
it out." He reached out to touch her face. "But I don't know if you'll accept it 
or not. It requires a little cooperation on your part."
     "Tom, I don't think we should."
     "I don't think we should either, but I still want to."
     B'Elanna hesitated. "Do you know what you're getting yourself into?" she 
asked.
     "Probably not," he said simply, putting his arms around her. "Resistance is 
futile. Now, let me give you a kiss."
     Their kiss was warm and full of promise. B'Elanna felt her desire for him 
blossom like a rare night-blooming orchid. She still felt very unsure, but he was 
right. Resistance was, well, not futile, maybe. But it sure was difficult at the 
moment. Maybe later.
     "B'Elanna?" he murmured.
     "What?"
     "You're on fire."
     "What? OH! My marshmallow's on fire!"
     "I just can't take you anywhere, can I?"
     "Hey, maybe I like them this way."
     "I thought you said you'd never had one."
     "Maybe I lied."
     "Hey! Don't douse that in my coffee! Stop it, Torres!"....
* * * * * 
The End.