The BLTS Archive - Crash & Burn fifth in the Sh*ttl*cr*ft/St*rsh*p Smut series by Sasscat Bu-to-y (fitchett@netaccess.co.nz) --- Set between "Once Upon a Time" (for which there are spoilers) and "Thirty Days". Disclaimer: Paramount owns Paris, Torres, Janeway, the shuttles and a lot of things we wish had never happened.:) No infringement intended. Author's Note: For the, er, convenience of the reader, I've 'translated' the shuttles' conversations from binary or whatever it is they use, not to mention cut out the excessive NCC-74656 qualifiers that abounded in "Transports of Rapture". (To which this is the sequel.) All forms of feedback welcome. WARNING: Shuttle smut. And *lots* of it. (c) Sasscat Bu-to-y 1999 --- "Don't mind the computer; she's just jealous because I'm spending my last few moments talking to you." Even through the pain of burned circuitry and a damaged hull, the words caught Delta Flier's attention. Jealous? Surely not... Paris was an organic. Oh, he certainly knew his way around shuttlecraft circuitry - she smirked as she thought of how well he knew his way around *her* circuitry - but there was no real emotion involved. The thought had never even occurred to her. But she pondered the idea as she monitored life support, and when they were rescued by Voyager she turned instantly to her aging mentor: the shuttle Sacajawea. "Do you believe we can fall in love with organics?" she asked, blunt in her confusion. Sacajawea was silent for a long time, ignoring the question. Delta had learned patience, and found herself often called upon to practise it. Much later, as their internal chronometers marked the passing of the day, Saca stirred herself to answer. "I knew one of us, once, who fell in love with an organic." Ahh... "Cochrane," Delta Flier anticipated. "Cochrane," Saca agreed. "When he was younger, before they killed him on their precious mission." Bitterness laced her voice, but for once she didn't retreat back into silence. "Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres. That half-human half-Klingon heartbreaker - she killed him, you know. All her fault..." "Tell me about it?" Delta asked softly. There was a pause. For a moment Dee thought Saca would stop talking, then the older shuttle resumed the tale. "It ended just a short time before Cochrane took the transwarp flights - have I told you about that?" Many times. "Yes," Dee said carefully, not wanting to disturb her mentor. "Cochrane loved her, like he never loved anyone else. Oh, he pretended to be in love with me; I think he even thought he was. But I knew better. And she.. she *used* him... fascinated by the idea of making love to a machine." Sacajawea was silent again, all systems inactive but the empty comm-line between the two of them and a passive sensor sweep, staring out at the stars. "Finally... she grew tired of him. The novelty wore off, once she began spending so much time with him, adjusting his systems for warp ten. So she broke it off." Saca paused her sensor sweep for a moment, the way an organic might close his eyes. The way Lieutenant Paris might, Delta thought. "I don't think he was ever truly happy again," Sacajawea finished. Delta didn't know what to say. "Saca," she began hesitantly, then stopped. "Oh, leave me alone," Sacajawea snapped. "Just leave me alone." She cut off the commlink and switched her sensors off. Clearly, that was all Delta would get out of her for now. --- Paris visited in the morning, as he had after the few other missions Delta had been on. She analysed the joyous feeling that ran through her circuits when she sensed his approach and wondered, was this love? Friendship? She didn't know. Paris was tired, but more than enthusiastic, and he soon had her vibrating in anticipation with the designer circuitboard he'd been so careful about installing. In turn, she let her transporters play over his skin, phasing the surface molecules until she had him screaming. His hands tightened convulsively on the circuit when he came, and Delta could feel the burning wave of energy wash through her systems. Friends, she was sure, didn't do this for each other... not and enjoy it so much. But Paris was already getting ready to leave, and she spoke without thinking; "Don't go." He looked up, startled. "I beg your pardon?" "Don't go," she repeated, lowering the decibels to a soft plead. "Stay with me..." She knew, even before he started shaking his head, that he wouldn't. "Dee," he said helplessly. "You know - we both know - why I can't do that." Delta knew, all right. Whatever reasons Paris thought he had, she knew. B'Elanna Torres. Ethics, discretion - it all came down to one thing, in the end. Torres was an organic, and Delta wasn't. "Goodbye," Dee said neutrally. Paris adjusted his jaw to speak, then sighed and left. --- Paris didn't visit her again for nearly a week. When he did finally return, he kept his head down and spoke in a low voice. "Sorry I've been away so long, Dee," he told her. "I had to spend some time with B'Elanna." His pulse would have told her he was lying, even if she hadn't already known it. No... It was a half-truth, Delta decided. Paris had gotten scared and flung himself at Torres. And the Chief Engineer had let him, because she didn't want anyone to be happy if she couldn't. At least, that's what Sacajawea said. Delta Flier knew what to do. She had to make B'Elanna Torres leave Paris alone, so he'd be free to think clearly. There was only one way to do that. Paris was lifting the secured panel that covered Delta's unusual circuitry. He was sweating slightly, leaving moist fingerprints on the thin fibres. She used her transporters to divest him of his clothing, banishing his startlement with sensations she'd never called up before. And when he'd forgotten himself, she began to record. --- B'Elanna listened as the moans increased, feeling her anger grow proportionally. It was too distinctly Tom's voice for it to be anything other than authentic - and that smug, computerised *bitch* she could only assume was the Delta Flier... She let out a cry of rage and looked around for things to start throwing. The audio playback stopped, suddenly. It became apparent why a moment later as Tom stepped through the doors. "Hey," he greeted her with an aggravating smile. B'Elanna growled and advanced towards him. "Have you got something you want to tell me, Paris?" He paused, confounded. "Uh... I love you?" She lashed out; he caught her fist and spun her round to hold her with an arm over her chest. She dug her elbow into his stomach and punched his nose when he doubled over. "Your little shuttlecraft," she spat, hauling him up by the neck of his uniform. "There's a better name for man-made sex-aids, you know." Paris went white. A smear of crimson trickled from his nose. "B'Elanna," he whispered. "I can explain..." "Don't give me that bullshit," she snapped, throwing him away from her. The doors opened too slowly and he hit the edge of one, the back of his head making an ominous crack at the impact. He bit back a cry of pain and repeated, "B'Elanna--" "Get *out*!" she yelled, quivering with fury and the effort not to beat him to a pulp. Every instinct in her body was crying out to fight something, anything, whatever got in her way. Tom pulled himself up by the doorframe, clinging to the wall. "I'm sorry," he breathed. B'Elanna's muscles tensed, hands tightening into whitened fists. Tom swallowed, and backed out the door before he made things worse. She watched him leave with a silent snarl, then picked up a vase and flung it against the wall by the door. --- Tom's eyes flickered up as the sickbay doors opened, then down again as the captain walked in. Swell. Maybe if he ignored her... But she didn't go away, and soon she was standing beside him, a concerned tone in her voice. "Are you all right?" "Sure," he snorted, then winced at the puff of air through his still-tender nose. The Doc had healed the fractures, but it was going to be sore for a few days yet. Janeway lifted his head gently, forcing him to look at her. "What happened?" she asked softly. "I walked into a bulkhead," Paris said sarcastically. Janeway let go of his chin and threw her hands in frustration. "Tom, you could have been killed! I need to know who did this to you!" "I was on the holodeck," he sighed, staring at the floor. "I turned the safeties off. I'm sorry." "Then why didn't you just say that when the Doctor asked?" she demanded. "I didn't want to get in trouble," he made himself say. Damn all of this... Damn himself for making it necessary. Janeway seemed to agree. "Dammit, Tom, I got a call from the Doctor saying you were critically injured and refused to say why, I was worried out of my mind about you and all you could think about was that you didn't want to get in *trouble*? I thought you'd got past all that," she added, tone laced with scorn. Tom almost winced at the reminder, and kept his eyes firmly on the floor, not trusting himself to speak. He heard Janeway sigh. "Where's B'Elanna?" she asked after a moment. "Shouldn't she--" Tom tensed, and the captain must have seen it because she stopped talking. He could almost feel her giving him a long hard look. "Tom," she said softly, lifting his chin again, "why isn't B'Elanna with you?" He couldn't think of anything to say. He swallowed, avoiding her gaze, and stayed silent. Janeway's voice softened even further, if that was possible. "Did B'Elanna do this to you?" Her other hand traced one edge of the bruise around his nose. He lifted his eyes, poised to tell her. Janeway was probably the only person on the entire ship he could talk to, the only one who might understand. But if he did tell her, the rest was bound to come out - she'd found out about the shuttles' sentiency a long time ago, and she wasn't stupid. Once she knew what he'd done, she'd hate him too. He dropped his eyes again, unable to bear the thought of disappointing her. "No," he whispered. "I was on the holodeck." Kathryn let out a tiny breath, and he knew she didn't believe him. "Please, Tom, talk to me," she pleaded. "I want to help." He was already shaking his head. "No-- Captain, I *can't*." She pounced on his words. "Can't what?" "I can't," he repeated, so quietly he wasn't sure she could hear him. "Captain, please, don't push this. It's my fault." "Not everything is your fault," she said gently, and he knew he could never tell her the truth. He'd ruined things with B'Elanna; he wasn't going to ruin things with the captain, too. He didn't even realise he was crying until she wiped the tear from his cheek. "It's okay," she told him tenderly. "I'm here. Shh," as he began to cry in earnest. "It's going to be okay. I'll make it okay." She wrapped her arms around him and held him as shuddering sobs racked his body. Tom clung to her fiercely, burying his face in her uniform. She was still breathing reassurances into his ear, gentle words of hope. He cried until he ran out of tears, then simply shook with loneliness and pain. Gradually he became aware of what she was whispering as she hugged him; "My Tommy... my precious Tommy..." over and over. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, he drew back and gave her an awkward smile. "Ah... sorry about that." Exasperation mingled with concern in the look she gave him. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about," she assured him. Oh, yes, there was. He looked away and took a breath. "Captain--" She stopped him with a gentle finger on his lips. "It's all right, Tom." She smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, her lips ghosting across his skin. "I'll see you later." --- Where was he? Why wouldn't he visit her? Delta Flier ran another diagnostic, just for something to do. If she had made a mistake sending the recording to Torres, it would hardly have been the first time. All she had to do was look at her track record with missions to know that she was good at screwing up the important things. If only Paris would *visit* her... She'd watched the fight he'd had with Torres and had had to restrain the urge to beam him to sickbay herself. If he knew her involvement in all this, she knew he'd never forgive her. But it was hard to sit here in the shuttlebay and not do anything. It wasn't supposed to have happened like this. She hadn't been paying attention to her sensors. Captain Janeway was approaching, and Delta couldn't think why. There wasn't a mission she hadn't noticed, was there? Janeway answered the question herself by striding up Dee's ramp and clearing her throat. "Delta Flier - I don't know what Tom calls you, but I'm sure he calls you something..." Delta quickly opened a commline to Sacajawea. "Why is she addressing me?" "She knows about us," Saca replied with some exasperation. "I told you she did me a favour, once, remember?" The commline was cut off before Delta could reply. "He calls me Dee," she said aloud. Janeway nodded. "Well, Ms. Dee, I don't know how much you know about what's been going on on Voyager, but... Tom was nearly killed the other day..." Janeway trailed off and swallowed, composing herself. "I know," Delta said softly. "I was watching." "Then you know what happened?" Janeway asked, hope palpable in her voice. "Yes." Janeway waited for a moment. "Well?" Delta felt a flash of anger at Lieutenant Torres, just remembering, but she knew that she couldn't say anything. Not and keep Paris safe. "Computer," Janeway said, a dangerous edge to her voice. "*What* *happened*?" "Unable to comply," Delta said smoothly, resorting to her official programming. "Requested data is restricted to authorised personnel only." "I'm the *captain*!" Janeway protested. "I appreciate your sense of loyalty, Dee, but I need to know what happened. How am I supposed to stop this happening again, if I don't know who did it?" "I apologise," Dee said quietly. "Captain... would you tell him something for me?" "Of course," Janeway said, trying to find somewhere to focus her compassionate look. "Tell him... I miss him." Delta heard the loneliness in the voice issuing from the speakers, and cursed herself. If Janeway guessed it was her fault... But Janeway merely nodded, and smiled sympathetically. "I'll pass it on. We're all worried about him. But Dee, it really would help if you could tell me what happened." "I *can't*," Delta protested, wondering how one organic could inspire such a need not to disappoint. "You'll hate him--" "Why?" Janeway asked softly. "What did he do?" Delta was quiet. After a moment Janeway sighed. "I'll let him know what you said," she repeated, then moved out of audio range. --- Kathryn stepped out of the turbolift and strode along the corridor purposefully, mind whirling with what Dee had and hadn't said. So, Tom had done something even a shuttle would condemn him for? Only... the Delta Flier hadn't seemed to condemn him. B'Elanna was furious, the shuttle was sympathetic and missed him-- Kathryn's steps faltered for an instant as she reached a conclusion that was almost too ridiculous to consider. Almost; but for the fact that she knew it had happened before. She reached Tom's quarters and chimed the door impatiently. "It's the captain," she called when he asked. The doors slid open, and she locked her eyes on his as she stepped in. "I don't believe you cheated on B'Elanna with a *shuttlecraft*!" Tom stared at her silently for just long enough to make her think maybe she should have checked her facts before confronting him. Then he slowly sat on his lounge chair, looking away. "It's not what you think," he said softly. She found herself a seat opposite him. "Then what is it?" "It's... It's like sex with a hologram, Captain," he protested defensively. "No, it's like advanced masturbation. It doesn't *mean* anything. You know that--" "Don't you *dare* bring that into this," she snapped, feeling the blood rise to her face at the memory. Any stray thoughts she might have had about defending him vanished at that last remark. "You've got no excuse for this, Lieutenant. Your behaviour is unconscionable, your justification pathetic. I almost wish--" She stopped, abruptly, before she said anything more she'd regret. The pure desolation on Tom's face was heartbreaking. He knew what he'd done, and he knew that he'd ruined his relationships with two of the most important people in his life. Kathryn bit her lip, wondering if maybe that wasn't worse than any punishment she could devise. "I should have let her kill me," Tom whispered to himself, hugging his stomach. Kathryn closed her eyes. She was not going to feel sorry for him. If it took every ounce of self-control she had, she was not gong to pity him for what he'd done to himself. "There may not be any charges I can bring against you for sleeping with shuttlecraft," she said, opening her eyes again, "but rest assured, Mister Paris, the smallest breach of protocol from you and I'll come down on you so hard you won't know what hit you." "I hope you're not planning on demoting me for calling Chakotay by name," he said dryly. "I'll find something," Kathryn snapped back, anger returning at his flippant tone. Tom bit his lip and looked slightly abashed. She glared at him for a moment, then spoke again when it became apparent he wasn't going to. "By the way, your little shuttlecraft asked me to tell you it misses you. Which still doesn't help me decide what I'm going to do with my Chief Engineer--" "I'm not pressing charges," Tom said immediately. "I should damn well hope not," she retorted. "That doesn't make *my* job any easier. I just hope it was worth it, Mister." He shook his head, but not as an answer. Staring at the carpet, he said softly, "I just wish I knew how B'Elanna-- found- out..." He trailed off, frowning slightly. Kathryn looked at him curiously. Slowly, his eyes rose to meet hers. "I'll kill her," Tom said. "I swear I'll-- *Fuck*! Paris to Delta Flier." --- Delta hesitated before answering the hail, wishing she hadn't been watching the scene. "Dee here," she said reluctantly. A movement of colour showed the thermal signature of Janeway's arm as the organic waved Paris silent. "I suspect you already know why we're calling," Janeway said coolly. Oh boy. "Affirmative," she answered, retreating into the safety of her programmed parameters. "That's all the answer I need," Paris growled. "Dee, what the hell possessed you to--" "Lieutenant," Janeway snapped. "Ms. Dee, I hope you have one hell of a good explanation." "Why must I give an explanation? It's just advanced masturbation," she said bitterly. Paris' colours swirled in anger. "You were spying on us?" he demanded. "I was listening," Delta corrected. "You are just as at fault." "I don't think either of you have the moral high ground here," Janeway interrupted angrily. "This is a starship, not a cheap holonovel. I expect both of you to--" "Captain," Dee interrupted, "you cannot expect anything from me. I am not a member of your crew. Even when you found out about us, you gave us no more rights than any other piece of equipment on Voyager. In the absence of those rights, I refuse to be subjected to the same responsibilities." "This isn't an issue of *rights*," Janeway objected, but Delta Flier interrupted again. "Incorrect, Captain. When you are ready to discuss it, contact Sacajawea." The older shuttle would not exactly relish the contact, but she was the best one to argue for them. "Delta out." Dee cut communications, and a millisecond later cut sensors as well, withdrawing into herself. Everything had backfired. Paris was no longer sympathetic to her, quite possibly not even to shuttlecraft in general. There was little probability that he would ever forgive her. And she had disrupted his interactions with one of his most important friends. She had damaged his self-respect, and that had already been difficult to encourage. With a feeling of wrongness floating through her circuitry, Delta began setting up a new routine. Her actions did not go unnoticed, and within moments Sacajawea was hailing her. Dee ignored the request to open a channel, and analysed the routine for logic errors. The request changed to a demand, and Delta sharply cut all power to communications. As she initiated the command to wipe each of Paris' carefully crafted personality subroutines, she remembered a phrase that Sacajawea had said Cochrane had been told by Paris, once. It seemed appropriate, in an organic kind of way. 'Sometimes, it just wasn't worth getting up in the mornings.' --- End - the Sh*ttl*cr*ft/St*rsh*p Smut series