The BLTS Archive- Scientific Curiosity by Annie M (trekgirl@mushy.freesreve.co.uk) and PJ in NH (kelhapam@lr.net) --- Archiving: PTF and ASC. Anyone else please ask for permission first. Note: This the first collaboration between Trekgirl/Annie M and PJ in NH/Pam. Out of respect to Annie who is from England and PJ in NH's English roots (and that of all English, Canadian, Australian, etc., fanfic readers, you know who you are), we have opted to use English spelling conventions. Warning: Believe it or not you will find several mentions of consensual sex and a touch of voyeurism to boot. Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything and we dutifully bow down before them. The story and all manner of innuendoes included herein are ours. An explanation of the roses: "Rosa Rubrifolia-A wild rose of central Europe. These leaves have a purplish bloom and the stems are practically free from thorns ... no fragrance." -- From "The Rose Expert" by Dr. D.G. Hessayon, PBI publications 1988, 2nd edition. Star Trek doesn't know everything! Feedback: Oh my yes! May 1999 --- The unfamiliar sound drew her attention. It was the sound of duratanium on metal flooring, a low frequency kind of push and pull. Yes, she thought, there is definitely a certain rhythmic quality to this sound. Seven of Nine paused to look at the data PADD in her hand. Captain Janeway had asked her to retrieve a mission log from the shuttlecraft Chamberlain and it had been her intention to deliver the log the following morning, after she had regenerated in her alcove. She took a step to leave and halted. The sound was intriguing. It was also speeding up. Seven was aware that Ensign Paris was supposed to have been on duty in the shuttlebay tonight--no doubt earning himself extra labour due to his tendencies to be distracted by Lieutenant Torres, the former Borg mused. The statuesque, blonde, ex-Borg approached the small ship, her heels clicking against the deck like a metronome. She could see no sign of Paris but she did notice that the Flyer was rocking slightly, from side to side. Seven peered under the belly of the shuttle, but saw nothing that would account for the noise. She walked around to the other side; no one was there. Yet the ship was still pitching and yawing in a way that was almost hypnotic. Seven blinked and proceeded to the nose of the ship. Looking in, through the transparent aluminum, she found her vision blurred. Condensation had formed on the inside of the shuttle. Seven activated her ocular implant and at last the mysterious movements of the Delta Flyer were revealed. As was the location of Ensign Paris. Seven of Nine's eyebrows raised in renewed interest as her optical implant zoomed in. --- "Ugh ... ugh ... ahh oh. Harder, Tom," rasped B'Elanna Torres as she writhed around on the blanket they had pulled from the Delta Flyer's storage compartment. She was lying partially on her back, with Tom Paris buried to the hilt between her legs. Tom had B'Elanna's right calf resting against his left shoulder, his left hand clutching against her thigh. His other hand was curled under her left shoulder, supporting her upper body as he thrust rhythmically into her. They barely noticed the movements of the Flyer as the small ship lurched in tandem with Tom's mighty thrusts. Sweat coated their bodies in liquid heat; trails of blood diluted by perspiration ran around Tom's sides and back, testament to B'Elanna's inflamed passion. "A little to the right, Tom," B'Elanna ordered through heaving breaths. Tom groaned as he began to move the way she wanted. He did so like to please his little hellcat. "No, Tom! My right! .... Yesss." B'Elanna's head fell against Tom's arm and she breathlessly kissed his skin, tasting the saltiness of him. She scraped her teeth along that spot and bit. "Ahh ... B'Elanna don't ... I can't..." Tom found himself speeding up and deepening his thrusts, the bite from B'Elanna shattering his control for the moment. He could feel her licking at the wound on his biceps, feel her panting against him. According to the Klingons, if you were fated to be together, mates could not feel the pain, only the excitement. The Klingons were right, he mused. He wondered, for the millionth time maybe, how anything so wet could be so tight. B'Elanna's growls and moans were building as she continued to chew on Tom's upper arm. Tom squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a familiar sensation grip his scrotum and then shoot up into his chest and lanced straight back down into the tip of his blood engorged penis. "Grrrrr... nghhhh... growwwll." "That's it, Tom. Don't ... hold ... back." B'Elanna knew he was coming, felt again the wonderful staccato thrusts of her mate that would leave her breathless and spent but oh so ready for more. She propelled her hips against Tom's erratic thrusts until the dam burst within them both. "B'Elanna!" Tom screamed out as his body shook from his release. --- "Seven!" The former Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01 whirled away from the front of the shuttle, her mind still very much on the perplexing, yet stimulating, images she had just witnessed. "Seven, be careful, you might break a heel." "I did not injure myself, Harry Kim," she replied tersely. "Ok," Harry said approaching her cautiously. "Is everything alright? I just came down to invite you to Neelix's resort program but when I called you, you didn't answer. Do you need to regenerate or something? You look a little pale." Seven took a deep breath and attempted to compose her thoughts. "I... I am fine, Ensign. Do you require my assistance?" Harry gave Seven a confused look. "I came down to invite you to the Resort," Harry stated again, very slowly. He watched her give his suggestion some thought, saw the quirk of her eyebrows and waited patiently for a response. "I do not require that particular social function this evening, Ensign. Perhaps another time," she answered flatly. "Can I walk you back to your cargo bay then?" Harry asked a little more hopefully. "That will not be necessary, I have ... research I wish to conduct." "Do you need any help?" Harry noticed her eyepiece jumped a notch at that and wondered why. "I do not require your help at this time," Seven paused and studied the attractive male specimen before her. "But I may need your assistance in the near future. Would you be willing to assist?" "Anything you want, Seven." "Very well." Seven turned abruptly away from Harry and strode over to the shuttlebay's computer console. Harry watched her for a minute as she tapped at the keys and continued to ignore him. He gave a heavy sigh and resumed his route to the holodeck, alone. As the shuttlebay doors closed after Harry's retreating figure Seven let out an audible breath. She had never seen anything so ... stimulating before. Seven was aware that her pulse was still racing and that there was a dampness forming between her legs. She had never experienced this sensation on a Borg cube. Although she was aware of her genitalia while she had lived as a Borg, their reproduction processes had consisted of a series of extractions and implants. Once a foetus had formed it was removed to a maturation chamber until its development to full Drone status. There was no erotica on a Borg vessel and certainly no copulation. The dampness intrigued her. Seven quickly realised that every time she thought about what she had witnessed between Ensign Paris and Lieutenant Torres; her eidetic memory replaying his touches, her squirming, their mutual carnality--her own dampness grew. Seven stared ahead of her, blinking hard when she realised she was at the nose of the Delta Flyer again. A momentary sliver of human conscience invaded her thoughts as she recalled something Commander Tuvok had once shared with her, "Most humans are very proprietary about their intimate relations, Klingons especially so." But she also recalled the Doctor's hunger for knowledge on the mating practises of fellow species. Seven realised she shared his interest. Seven's research began. --- Star Date: 52647, 1400 hours. Subjects quarrel in corridor outside female's quarters... --- "I said I was sorry," Tom Paris yelled. He was standing over B'Elanna who stood as tall as she could, her chin jutting fiercely out with her back against the doors to her quarters. "I warned you, Tom Paris. I told you to never call me babe in public!" "Babe ... B'Elanna it was a slip of the tongue. I'm sorry." Tom turned his expressive blue eyes down to a pair of brown orbs that held only open hostility. He took a small step toward B'Elanna and tried to hold her fingers with his. "Don't you touch me, Paris!" B'Elanna snarled as she pushed him away. The palm of her hands impacting strongly against Tom's chest. "B'Elanna --." "No, Tom! Damn it, did you have to call me that in engineering? All my staff..." "What do you want? I'm sorry." "You're always sorry. Just leave me alone." "Come on, B'Elanna, this is crazy. I love you and I'm sorry I called you babe. I didn't even realise I'd said it until Ashmore, and Nicoletti started to..." Tom trailed off. His pathetic explanations were only serving to make his lover even angrier. "They were laughing, Tom. At me!" B'Elanna practically screamed. "They were not laughing at you, B'Elanna--." "The hell they weren't." "Fine. If you want to make a big deal out of nothing, go ahead." "This is nothing to you?" "B'Elanna, calm down." "Calm down?!" "This is so stupid." "I'm stupid now?" "That's not what I meant--" "Get lost, Paris." "Fine. I've got a duty shift in Sickbay anyway." "Good. Have the Doc run a brain scan while you're down there." B'Elanna turned and keyed the entry code to her cabin. "You're the one who needs a brain scan," Tom muttered as he made his way miserably to the turbolift. --- "It would appear that the female subject does not enjoy public endearments. I find this something of a contradiction with her nature, as she seemed to enjoy the physical stimulation of Ensign Paris aboard the Delta Flyer. That particular interlude was certainly effected in a public area. In order to study their behaviour more fully I have surreptitiously placed surveillance devices in both of their quarters and along decks 4 and 9. It is my hope that through these devices I will be able bring the Doctor a more detailed report on human mating practices. I must confess that this couple is most fascinating." --- Male returns with 12 flowering plant stems--species Rosa Rubrifolia--effecting a cessation of hostilities... --- Tom stood nervously outside B'Elanna's quarters. He held the dozen roses behind his back and exchanged a few pleasant nods from various crewmembers as they went about their own business along the corridor. After what felt like an eternity to Tom, her cabin doors swished open. "Hey," Tom offered quietly. "Hey," B'Elanna responded equally quiet. The familiar greeting instantly warming them both. She was standing in her doorway dressed only in a simple green, mid-length, dress. Her feet were bare so she had to crane her neck a little more than usual to read the sincere expression on Tom's face. She let her eyes roam his body. He was dressed in a rust coloured brown shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of dark brown trousers. B'Elanna noted that Tom had left three of the top buttons on his shirt undone. She could see the swirls of his russet chest hairs poking out. She inhaled deeply. If she could bottle that aroma, she thought, she would be swimming in latinum. "I got the Doc to check my head," Tom stated in a low whisper. "He said I was an idiot. Forgive me, B'Elanna?" He held the flowers out for B'Elanna's approval and watched as a slow smile crept over her sensuous mouth. "They're beautiful, Tom." Reaching for the bouquet, she brought them to her nose, taking in the fragrance. Brown eyes held blue. "They don't smell," B'Elanna stated in wonder as her smile reached her whole face at last. "I thought you might like them," Tom couldn't help answering knowingly. He had chosen this particular species of rose due to B'Elanna's sensitive sense of smell--she had almost gagged and sneezed herself to death on the few other occasions that he had brought her scented flowers. With these, Tom knew that B'Elanna would appreciate the purple blooms of the plant's petals but more importantly, she would welcome the absence of an over-powering fragrance. "Want to come in?" Without further words B'Elanna took Tom's left hand and led him inside. --- "Computer append log Seven PT Alpha. At this time I wished to discuss the personal nature of Ensign Paris' intimate relations with Lieutenant Torres. I asked the computer for his location to find that he was, once again, on deck 9, section 12e. According to the duty logs, Ensign Paris is due on the bridge this morning at 0900. I have two hours in which to question him. From my previous experience with Mister Paris I can assume his responses to my questions will be filled with "Earth humour." I will tolerate his juvenile responses because I have also found the Ensign to be forthright and occasionally exhibiting moments of superior intelligence." "Log addendum: I was unable to talk with Ensign Paris this morning but I was able to view the social impact of their mating behaviour on certain crew members from deck 9. My own review of the surveillance from this deck and Lieutenant Torres' quarters also provided me with invaluable evidence of their sociological influence." --- Star Date: 52648, 0300 hours: intimate relations resume... --- "The ascending, transverse and descending colon are arranged round the abdominal cavity like three sides of a square--" Crash. Glass hit wall and shards of crystal flew about. Tom closed his eyes briefly as he felt a splinter of glass whiz by his nose. "But the two vertical limbs lie in the paravertebral gutter on each side and therefore behind the plane of the transverse limb, which sags down towards the pelvis." B'Elanna snatched the medical text away from Tom and buried her head in his neck. Growling deeply she inhaled his masculine scent. Tom had been innocently sitting on B'Elanna's bed, dressed only in his boxers, trying to catch up on some medical texts from the Doctor when B'Elanna had asked what he was reading. He had explained that it was boring technical stuff on the colon. Tom had started to read out loud as a joke but B'Elanna had taken quite a different view. The medical texts acted like an aphrodisiac to her and now that she was fully aroused nothing but a physical release with Tom Paris would do. She was pushing him back, her hands against his shoulders, her lips and teeth tracing patterns against his throat. Tom groaned as he felt her erect nipples bush against his chest. His hands came around B'Elanna's waist and he threw a leg over hers turning her over so he could gain an advantage. She was having none of it. Using the momentum of Tom's roll, she pushed against him and they continued to tumble, all the way off the bed. They landed on the floor with a loud thud, Tom still, somehow, remained on top. "Sorry," he gasped. "Shut up," B'Elanna said as she flipped Tom over again. The half-Klingon was determined to have the upper hand. Her wild animal grin shone down on Tom like a super-nova. She was straddling his waist and proceeded to rake her nails across his hairy chest, grinding her aroused sex over his stiffening erection as she did so. Tom reached up and pulled at a stiff nipple, grinning even broader than B'Elanna when he heard her sharp intake of breath. B'Elanna's nails continued their exploration of Tom's fair skin and she moved further down across Tom's thighs as her fingers found the edge of his boxers. Tom raised his hips expectantly but B'Elanna only shook her head, reached for the seam of his underwear and ripped it off of him with a satisfied growl. The threads snapping against Tom's thighs left small red welts but he barely felt them as he lunged forward, trying to wrestle his love back to the deck. B'Elanna laughed at his attempt and quickly rolled out of the way, turning onto the balls of her feet like gymnast and sprinted into her living room. Tom followed and managed to duck just in time as the obsidian figure of a turtle flew past his head and smashed against a wall inside her bedroom. He had played this game with her many times before--it was a game without losers. "Hellcat," Tom breathed as he continued to dodge various flying objects while attempting to get closer to his mate. B'Elanna giggled like a schoolgirl then launched herself towards the pilot in a classic rugby tackle. Taking him down by the waist and then kissing him furiously as they hit the floor. Score! Three more points to the half-Klingon with the conversion points for the kick, following closely behind. --- Ensigns' Ayala, Kim and Ashmore stopped briefly outside cabin E, section 12 on deck 9. "You hear that?" asked Ayala. "Do you know where you're standing, Mike?" Ashmore snorted in return. "What does that mean?" Harry Kim asked innocently. Still snorting with laughter, Ashmore pointed to the cabin door. "I know that's B'Elanna's quarters, Carl, but so what?" Ashmore and Ayala exchanged knowing looks. "Let's just say," Carl started to explain, "that a certain Chief Engineer is getting it on with a certain pilot. Namely your best friend, Harry." Harry blushed scarlet all the way down to his toes. "Are they always this loud?" he asked, as another heavy impact reverberated through the corridors followed by a strangled groan. Harry cringed. Ayala rolled his eyes and answered, "Always." Carl laughed at Harry's facial expression. Could anyone look more uncomfortable? "How the hell are we supposed to play poker with all of that going on, Mike?" Harry wanted to know. "Don't worry, Harry," Ashmore said in a resigned but envious tone, "you'll get used to it." --- They lay naked on her bed, lower limbs loosely entwined, remnants of shattered crystal and volcanic glass occasionally pricking into their flesh. Nothing really out of the ordinary for them. Tom was lying on his side; B'Elanna was on her back. With a look of pure pleasure, Tom teased her nipples with the long stemmed, practically thornless, rose. "That tickles." "It's supposed to, B'Elanna," Tom's voice murmured as he slowly trailed the purplish bloom of the rose from the base of B'Elanna's throat to the swell of her breasts. Letting its path circle over and around her dark, hard nipples. "Like it?" he asked teasingly. B'Elanna purred with satisfaction, rubbing her calf between Tom's legs. One hand traced the pattern of scratches her previous ardour had inflicted on the pilot's fuzzy chest. Tom dragged the rose further down B'Elanna's caramel coloured body, stopping to circle the petals around her belly button and to the darker mound beyond. B'Elanna let out a deep sigh of contentment and stared deeply into her lover's eyes as she let him cover her lips with his own. Tom let go of the flower, leaving the bud angled down like an arrow to B'Elanna's centre. Covering her body with his, he tangled his hands in her hair and stroked the ridges of her forehead with his thumbs. He growled when he felt her nails dig deeply into his back and shoulders. With practice, Tom figured, it wouldn't take him too much longer before he sounded just like a Klingon male. And boy, did he seem to be getting a lot of practice. He left her lips, trailing kisses down her chin and finally her throat as he moved down to his new goal. She gasped and arched into him when she felt the tug of his teeth and lips on her aching breast. "Love me, Tom," B'Elanna breathed. --- "Computer append log Seven PT Alpha. The human condition never ceases to confuse me. It is obvious that subjects Paris and Torres represent an environmental infraction to those around them. Further, those most affected by these transgressions make no attempt to report or rectify the situation by reporting it to the proper authorities. I questioned a female crewmember that resides in a cabin close to Lt. Torres. I was performing my research after the crews evening meal when the, now, familiar tumultuous sounds, again, emanated from deck 9, section 12e. Ensign Arsten had just exited her cabin and I approached her. I made note of the current noise levels originating from Miss Torres' quarters and I inquired if they were distracting or annoying to her and the rest of the section's residents. Miss. Arsten smiled at me and replied that as long as Lt. Torres and Ensign Paris were happy then she and everyone else in that section were more than willing to tolerate the disquiet. She continued by supplying an extraneous conclusion-"Everyone on the deck is ecstatic that those two have found each other. It's so great to see two people so obviously deeply in love." Human mating rituals are complex and filled with irrelevancies, but I digress. While reviewing my surveillance logs from last night, I was able to further witness the subjects' physical interactions. They continue to surprise me and Lieutenant Torres' actions have been particularly fascinating. Until this time I was not aware that nutrients could be gleaned from the male penis for anything other than reproduction. Nevertheless, Lieutenant Torres seemed to derive immense pleasure from draining this appendage. It was a quite an absorbing display. As the female stimulated the penis with her mouth, the male appendage seemed to grow to astounding proportions. According to additional information, found in the ship's medical database, apparently very few male humans have been recorded with such generous physical endowments. I hypothesised at the time, that such engorgement of the flesh should cause Ensign Paris pain. Surprisingly though, the Ensign seemed to categorically enjoy the sensation. Later I noted that Mister Paris also seemed to achieve an identical pleasure from consuming secretions from Lieutenant Torres' vagina. As I continued to review their interactions I became aware that my body persisted in reacting to the visual and auditory stimuli of the subjects. My nipples hardened and my female genitalia became moistened. From my research, these sensations indicate sexual arousal. It is quite pleasant. My continued investigation on subjects P/T has widened my appreciation of the power of intimacy and that of central European wild roses. The subject's physical displays of intimacy have... moved me in a fashion that I find hard to describe. It is extraordinary. Subsequent study is necessary. Perhaps, I could convince Ensign Paris to assist me at some point." --- Star Date: 52649, 2030 hours: intimate relations continue... The familiar whine of the shuttlebay doors alerted B'Elanna from her position against the opposite bulkhead, she stood at ease, arms crossed and gave Harry Kim a friendly smile as he stepped through the doors. "Hi, Harry." "Hey, B'Elanna." Kim acknowledged with a self-conscious grin. His recent experiences on a certain deck from a couple of nights previous were still jangling through his brain. Even though he knew that his friends had not been celibate, he had no idea just how athletic--or vocal--their relationship was. Truth was, in a strange way; he both envied them and was embarrassed for them. He had barely been able to look Tom Paris in the eye during the short shuttle trip to the Kadi home world where, accompanied by Sue Nicoletti, they had dropped off Captain Janeway for trade negotiations and had been allowed to conduct various scans for mineral and vegetative supplies. It had been a long short trip. "You guys come back with any good readings?" B'Elanna asked as she wondered why Harry was so fascinated with the bulkhead over her left shoulder. Harry cast his eyes down to his feet and started to mumble on about a converter node process that might speed up warp re-initialisation if they could work out a few minor phase variances. B'Elanna listened to the cadence of Harry's voice, not really interested in what he was saying for the moment, her attention distracted by the more immediate thought of seeing--correction--touching a certain pilot once again. A figure in mauve caught her eye and B'Elanna glanced to her right. Seven stood at the curve of the corridor, PADD in hand, like a statue with an attitude--unmoving but appearing to be engrossed in whatever information she carried before her. B'Elanna felt her lips curl in disgust and tried to concentrate on the sound of Harry's voice and then Sue's as she joined them, a few moments later. Their voices were like the sounds of discordant strings to B'Elanna's non-musical ears. Scratching and waning in the air like rubber bands being dragged across ancient bark. "The concert's on Wednesday, 2130 hours, B'Elanna. You and Tom should really try and make it this time, Harry has a solo and..." B'Elanna wondered if she had overdone the welcome back surprise for Tom. Would he really appreciate sharing their private holodeck time with two exact duplicates of himself? B'Elanna had spent countless hours in the last few months studying her mate, his vocal inflections, his gestures and mannerisms, his fair complexion, the pattern of his body hair and all of his other physical and mental attributes. She had used all of her expertise as an engineer and not a little of her own erotic imagination to create a very special program. One that she hoped he would approve of--eventually. Tom could be pretty wild in bed but timing with him was everything. Besides, she thought, he had said he wanted to share my sexual fantasies. Tom Paris finally emerged from the shuttlebay, looking a little smug, thought B'Elanna, for a man who had spent the last few hours sitting on his butt twiddling a few knobs. "We'll see you later..." "... converter nodes..." "... concert..." "... holodeck..." "Let's go, Harry. They're not even listening to us." "Alone at last," drawled Tom as he stepped up to within an inch of B'Elanna's boots, towering over her in a way that always made her breath come a little harder and sent jolts of arousal straight between her thighs. Tom looked left and right down the corridor and moved to take B'Elanna's hands in his. "Hi," he said as he bent his head and captured B'Elanna's upturned mouth in a kiss. With one hand he gave her breast a slight squeeze which represented a promise of what would come later, behind closed doors. "Hey, you." she whispered as she let his lips go. She brought her arms around Tom's waist to lock herself to his chest, loving the feel of his strong heartbeat against her cheek. Her eyes caught a glimpse of movement and her breath caught in her throat. "What?" Tom asked noticing B'Elanna's momentary distraction. "I thought I saw... It's nothing. Forget it." "Did you miss me?" "You were only gone four hours, Tom." He ignored her mocking rebuke and stole another glance around the deck, it was deserted and for a few minutes Tom hoped that time would just stand still for once and let them enjoy the moment. Their kiss, this time, was much deeper and something else, B'Elanna inwardly smirked, was getting much bigger. They stood entwined around each other for a good minute. "Come on," B'Elanna said, gasping in short breaths as they broke the kiss, "I've got a surprise for you." "I love surprises." "I hope so," B'Elanna responded, letting Tom take her hand as they proceeded to holodeck two. --- Star Date: 52650, 0740 hours: subjects ingest nutrients in mess hall... --- The mess hall was buzzing. Most of the alpha shift crew were tucking into breakfast; Gravalian scrambled eggs, vorshed (the Delta Quadrant equivalent of bacon), Neelix's "wake up" blend of coffee and an assortment of oddly shaped fruits. Seven sat with the Delaney sisters, reviewing her PADDs, but patently ignored Megan and Jenny's attempts to engage her in idle chatter. From time to time she would offer her insights into stellar phenomena and even offer praise, such as it was, on their interest in cosmology. For the Delaneys the whole experience was like pulling teeth, without the benefit of an anaesthetic. At another table B'Elanna sat across from Tom and Harry Kim, her back to Seven, as she sneaked another bacon rind off Tom's plate. "I don't think I've ever seen you this hungry, B'Elanna," Harry commented as he took a long gulp of coffee. "I guess I kind of worked up an appetite for it, Starfleet," she responded, giving the operations officer a little grin as she licked at her fingers. Tom shifted in his seat and played with the collar of his tunic. I'm not gonna say it, his mind screamed. Tom's body and mind were still on a high from last night. When B'Elanna had told him she had a surprise for him he had no idea that one of her secret fantasies was to be pleasured not just by him but by two other duplicates of himself. It had taken him a few minutes to adjust to the idea, Tom was not a bashful man but getting naked with his love and two mirror images of himself was a little strange, at first. He was flattered and extremely grateful that B'Elanna had not wanted to share him with another man. She had just wanted a little more attention from her man. Tom felt a familiar tightening in his groin. What a program! What an X rated mind his love had! Tom wondered if he could handle three B'Elanna's. "Don't tell me," Harry laughed. "You two went skiing again? Or was it rock climbing?" "Nooo." B'Elanna let that one word slip off her tongue with a slight purr, the 'o' drifting through the air like a feather falling softly to ground. Harry had never heard that inflection from B'Elanna before, actually he had never seen that look. Her eyes were lit up and twinkling with... Harry had no idea what they were twinkling with but she sure did look more Klingon this morning. It was as if the ridges on her forehead were more pronounced than usual and when she smiled, her big teeth seemed to have grown a few sharp points. His mind must be playing tricks, he thought. He cast his eyes at Tom. His friend had barely said two words to him this morning. He just sat there drinking coffee, letting B'Elanna steal his breakfast, never saying a word. Tom's eyes, now that Harry thought about it, had never left B'Elanna. The overwhelming sexual tension being emitted by his two friends suddenly left him in no doubt as to how they had spent the previous evening. "Oh," Harry finally managed to get out. Right then, Harry wished with a passion that he were in Tal's bed again, making love to her. The thought stabbed at him with a sharpness he was sure he would never feel again. After all, the disease had been purged, hadn't it? Damn, I miss her, Harry thought. "Listen guys," he said, standing up. Suddenly needing a few minutes to himself. "I gotta run. I've got a report I need to discuss with Commander Chakotay." "See you later, Harry," B'Elanna said, that dreamy voice still upon her. "Later, Harry," Tom acknowledged at last--after B'Elanna kicked him lightly under the table. Barely nodding in his friend's direction as he went back to staring at B'Elanna while he nursed his mug of coffee. "I should make a move too ... Number One," B'Elanna couldn't help teasing a few minutes later. "I scheduled a staff meeting for engineering at 0815." Tom grinned in return as he rubbed his leg against B'Elanna's in a casual caress. "I'll walk you down. I'm not due in Sickbay until 0900." She gave him another of her thousand wattage smiles. He'd been getting them a lot recently--most of them last night. B'Elanna returned his touches for a couple of seconds then straightened her self and stood up. "Let's go." She crooned. Thirty-five seconds after Tom and B'Elanna left the mess hall; Seven gathered her PADDs and followed. --- "Computer append log Seven PT Alpha. I thought I had been careful. I thought that my research of the subjects would go unnoticed, but I had underestimated Lt. Torres. The Chief Engineer approached me this evening and confronted me about my observations of her and Ensign Paris. I explained to her that I was conducting research about human mating practices. The Lieutenant became agitated and hostile when I let her review one of my reports--in particular with regard to my record of their 'intimate relations. I have a great deal of admiration for Lieutenant Torres' skill as an engineer; she has proven her worth as the head of her department on several occasions. However she is a volatile individual who expresses no sense of logic or understanding of the requirements needed to maintain a psychological balance. I can sympathise with her confusion. When I was removed from the hive I experienced feelings of panic and insecurity where there were none before, but I endured and regained my equanimity. Miss Torres, I am sure, will never have anything but her own, singular, thoughts. She will never benefit from hearing the echoes of the collective. How unfortunate. Lieutenant Torres' reaction as such was not totally unexpected. If Neelix and Mister Paris had not intervened, I do believe that she would have made good on her promise to injure me. Instead she lodged a complaint with Captain Janeway. This was not the first occasion that I have been called to the Captain's ready room for a reprimand. The captain explained her disappointment with me, suggesting that my conduct could be interpreted as stalking. Such conduct, she said, would not be tolerated. She further suggested that I should consider experiencing a romantic attachment, claiming it would negate my need for continued studies of subjects P/T. I agreed that I would cease my research. But I did lie to the captain--I'm sure if I had admitted my inclusion of surveillance devices, of the subjects, I would have been severely reprimanded. The prevarication was necessary in light of what I had previously observed of Captain Janeway's sometimes, erratic conduct towards the crew. It would not have been logical to join those who had already been severely censured. --- "Log addendum: In my efforts to further understand human mating behaviour I accepted the Doctor's offer of assistance to instruct me in the social activity known as dating. It was my opinion that Lieutenant Chapman would make a suitable companion, he is efficient and from my investigation into his personal interests we appeared to share a proclivity for astronomy, quantum mechanics and music. Our 'date' did not go well. The doctor insisted that I further my studies in this field and I allowed him to teach me to dance--this was not an unpleasant experience. The doctor's continued guidance through these varied lessons was sometimes irrelevant but I chose to proceed in order to further my understanding of the necessary social protocols. In these situations I find that the individual is always expected to compromise their pattern of behaviour in order to enhance one's attraction. I find these notions extraneous and hypocritical. However, I soon discovered that the doctor's interest in my social development was not entirely sincere. He and Ensign Paris could both benefit from supplementary social lessons, if their recent conduct towards me is any indication. I am still curious about how people interact with each other on many levels and in particular in the most intimate of circumstances. I find that I would like to experience this first hand some day. But I need to know more. I need to see and hear what happens between a male and a female. The ship's databases do not provide enough detailed information to satisfy my curiosity. They do not stimulate me or affect me as my first-hand observations do. Commander Tuvok, I am sure, would agree that after collecting over 30,000 gigaquads of information, it would be illogical to discontinue my research until it is complete. He would tell me that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Logically this makes perfect sense, but in this instance, my needs, the needs of the one, must come first. I must find out who I am in order to develop my individuality. Therefore I cannot comply with the captain's request and from this point forward I will exercise more caution when viewing the subjects." --- Star Date: 52664, 2130 hours: subjects appear to socialise in mess hall... --- "The Captain spoke to her two weeks ago, B'Elanna. I'm sure that she's just in here having her meal with the rest of the crew." The half-Klingon stabbed the offending piece of, what Neelix called, food with her fork. "I don't care what the Captain said, Tom. I think she's still watching us. Oh sure, we aren't tripping over her like before, but you mind my words, she is still watching us." "I really think you are imagining it." "Then how do you explain that knowing look she gave us two days ago at the Senior Staff meeting. You know after..." Tom leaned closer to B'Elanna and whispered. "...After the um...trip around the sector and back...and we never left my quarters?" "Yeah." "Maybe she's just got an overactive imagination, or you were still glowing." A soft growling sound rumbled deep in B'Elanna's throat. "Well, you were. You know you're awful cute when you um...glow." She looked first at Tom and then quickly over to the blonde in the corner. B'Elanna caught the ex-Borg surreptitiously making notes on her data PADD. Enough was enough! Launching herself from the table, she stormed over to Seven of Nine, Tom immediately followed hoping to minimise the Klingon explosion. "I thought you learned your lesson!" B'Elanna growled through gritted teeth. Seven stood up to face the irate woman. "You're watching our every move again!" "It was..." "I warned you last time... Tom took a position in between the two women and held up his hands. "Wait a minute, B'Elanna, Seven." It was too late, B'Elanna; now fuelled by rage was not going to pass up a second opportunity to do as she had promised weeks ago. She let fly a powerful right hook, aimed directly at Seven's perfect nose. Seven, already anticipating the half-Klingon's assault, reacted by employing her Borg reflexes and managed to deflect the blow off the exoskeleton of her left forearm. The blow ricocheted directly into the one man who was trying to prevent the altercation. Tom Paris caught the blow squarely on his upper chest, as he stumbled backwards he lost his balance, hitting his head on the edge of a table, hitting the deck harder than a sack full of latinum. He was out cold. --- B'Elanna and Seven were still exchanging challenging looks at each other, B'Elanna almost hissing like an ally cat as Janeway stormed into sickbay. The Captain ignored the two women for the present and the pair of security officers that had been assigned to watch them. Her first priority was to ascertain the medical condition of her Chief Pilot. Janeway approached the biobed where a still unconscious Tom Paris lay. The EMH was still performing his medical diagnosis. "Report, Doctor. What's Tom's condition?" "Well, my medical assistant who is also one of my most frequent patients, has survived another blow to his body and his skull." Janeway turned from the Doctor to face B'Elanna and Seven. "And I bet I can guess that he didn't receive this injury all on his own." B'Elanna and Seven looked at each other and then to the security guards. The Captain motioned for them to step closer so their words would not be overhead. There would be time enough later, if necessary, for them to repeat their statements. "I never intended to hit Tom," B'Elanna said in her defence. "That is true, Captain," Seven replied. "Her original intention was to break my nose." "I see." Janeway motioned for them to step even closer. "I deflected her blow and Ensign Paris received the impact to his chest." "And when he fell," B'Elanna finished, "he struck his head on the edge of the table before he hit the deck." "Hmm." Janeway shook her head in exasperation at the two offenders before returning her attention back to the hologram, "Doctor, what are Mr. Paris' specific injuries?" "Well, he has a mild concussion from hitting the table. And..." he reviewed the data from his medical tricorder. "A broken clavicle." Janeway's eyebrows raised and she turned to B'Elanna. "Doesn't a broken clavicle mean that you two are engaged or something?" B'Elanna blushed at the captain's implication and before she could formulate a reply the Doctor offered his own opinion. "Yes, according to my research on Klingon mating practices..." "Not you too?" Both Torres and Janeway said simultaneously. The Doctor ignored them, feeling it was his place to state a few facts. "...A broken clavicle does indeed indicate that Mr. Paris and Ms. Torres are in fact mated according to Klingon tradition. Breaking the clavicle is seen as good luck for their union." The Captain turned to her Chief Engineer. "Well, B'Elanna, it appears that congratulations are in order." "They would be a little belated," Seven piped in very seriously. "If a broken clavicle indicates that they are married, then they have been so, according their medical records, for approximately nine months, 3 days, 21 ho...." B'Elanna lunged for the ex-Borg, both hands raised to clutch the long lean--soon to be broken--neck. Seven really had crossed the line this time, and for once the Captain didn't intervene. --- The End