Below is a follow-up to the AU CHARMED story - "Auld Lang Syne":
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"SECOND POWER"
RATING: [PG-13]
SUMMARY: Olivia McNeill's new power sends shockwaves throughout the whitelighter realm and presents Cole with a chance for reconciliation. Set two weeks after "Auld Lang Syne". Alternate S5.
FEEDBACK: cancerjones1941@yahoo.com - Be my guest. But please, be kind.
DISCLAIMER: Cole Turner, the Charmed Ones and other characters related to Charmed to Spelling Productions, Brad Kern and Constance Burge. The McNeills are my creation.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: To understand what is going on between Cole and Olivia McNeill, please read "Auld Lang Syne" first - http://fish1941.vox.com/library/post/auld-lang-syne-pg-13---11.html
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"SECOND POWER"
PART ONE
Paige Matthews waited breathlessly as the tall manservant stepped aside to allow her entrance into the McNeill manor. She greeted the latter with a polite smile. "Morning, Davies."
"Good morning, Miss Matthews," Davies replied in his usual Welsh accent. "Today's Sunday brunch won't be held out in the garden, today."
"Oh? Why not?" Paige followed Davies toward the house's large drawing room.
Davies gave the young half-witch/half-whitelighter a quick smile. "The weather, miss. It's a bit cool and Miss Gweneth has decided to hold the brunch, inside the house." He opened a pair of double doors, made from heavy oak.
After murmuring a quick "thank you" to the manservant, Paige stepped inside the drawing room. A quick scan revealed that she had been the last to arrive. All of the McNeills were there, along with Barbara Bowen, Bruce McNeill's fiancée, and a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair. Paige felt a twinge of disappointment at the Morrises' lack of appearance. They had become regular visitors, following Darryl Morris' possession by a West African sorcerer's spirit. Paige did not become a regular at the McNeill brunches, until she and Olivia McNeill became good friends nearly a week before Christmas. A friendship formed from Paige's discovery that her former brother-in-law had been an innocent victim of the Source. Speaking of Cole . . .
Paige walked over to the buffet table, where she found Harry McNeill examining the food. She picked up an empty plate and stood next to him. "Hi," she greeted.
Harry glanced up and smiled. Red-haired men had never been Paige's type, but she had to admit that the youngest McNeill's chiseled features and startling green eyes were very attractive. Very. In fact, downright delicious. "Hi," he greeted back. "Just arrived?"
"Yeah." Paige fell silent, as Harry scooped a spoonful of Eggs Florentine and dumped it on his plate. She continued, "So, who's the lady standing next to your mom?" She pointed at the middle-aged woman.
Harry replied, "That's Carla Bianchi. She's a witch. And an old friend of Mom's."
"Huh?" Paige peered at the woman. "But her name . . . it's Italian."
"Well, there is such a thing as a witch of Italian descent. Mrs. Bianchi practices Strega, or Stregheria. It's somewhat similar to Wicca."
Paige shook her head. "Boy, I sure have a lot to learn." She scanned the room once more. "By the way, I see that Cole is missing again. Where is he?"
Not even her casual tone could disguise Paige's curiosity. Or concern, judging by the look Harry gave her. "You noticed it too, huh?" he replied. "This is the second time he's missed our brunch. And he hasn't missed one since he first started coming."
Then Paige bombarded Harry with a series of questions. "So what happened? Is there something wrong with Cole? Is he pissed off about something? Has he pissed off Olivia? Is he even in town?"
"The answer to all of your questions is - 'I don't know.'" Harry reached for a croissant. "I've already asked Olivia once and she nearly bit off my head. And none of us haven't been to get to Cole. He's either busy or unavailable."
A sigh left Paige's mouth. "You too, huh?" She reached for a slice of quiche. "I tried calling Cole once. Didn't answer my call. Maybe if I can talk to Olivia . . ."
Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't, if I were you," he warned. "Olivia has been . . . well, acting strange lately. Almost erratic."
"So, what's wrong with her? And what has this to do with Cole?"
Green eyes stared at Paige, glimmering with humor. "Are you always in the habit of asking more than one question at the same time?"
Paige heaved an impatient sigh. "Har-ry!"
"Okay, okay!" Harry paused. "Bruce thinks it might have something to do with what had happened at Warren Mitchell's New Year party. He and Barbara saw . . ." The McNeill witch broke off, as a third figure approached the table. Olivia.
Jack and Gweneth McNeill's only daughter greeted the newcomer with a too cheerful smile. "Paige! Honey! I'm glad that you could come!"
The youngest Charmed One stared at her friend, as if the latter had grown a second head. "Uh, glad I could make it. Are you . . . are you okay, Livy?"
"What do you mean?" Green eyes, similar to Harry's, widened with innocence. "Couldn't be better."
"It's just that . . . well, you look strange. Weird. Like you've taken one too many happy pills." Or like Phoebe in a state of denial, Paige added silently.
Olivia laughed. Loudly. "Honey, don't worry. I haven't begun a drug habit, if that's what you're thinking. I just feel great!" She flung out a hand, and a burst of fire streamed upward, scorching the ceiling.
Gasps filled the room. A look of horror replaced the faux happiness on Olivia's face. Paige cried out, "Oh. My. God!"
Harry coolly gazed at his horrified sister. "Say Livy, you want to answer that question again about feeling okay?"
* * * *
Cole Turner gazed approvingly at the active crowd on the street below. "You know, I've forgotten how much I like New Orleans. Can't understand why I've stayed away for so long." He stood upon a balcony that overlooked Royal Street, in the Crescent City's French Quarter.
The balcony's other occupant, a tall handsome man with rich brown skin and intense black eyes, sat in a wicker chair. Sipping coffee. "For so long?" Andre Morrell repeated. "What are you talking about, man? I've seen you six times in the past ten days, let alone three more times since Cecile came back, late last month."
"You know what I mean!" Cole retorted in a mock snarl. "Before Cecile had returned. We haven't laid eyes upon each other in two years."
Andre lazily shot back, "And whose fault is that?"
"Okay, so I've been busy during the past few years. Between dodging the Source's zoltars; helping Phoebe and her family, especially after Prue's death; losing my powers . . . Hell! You know what I mean! I just haven't found the time to visit. Until now."
Nodding, Andre replied, "I understand what you're getting at. But what I don't understand are all of these visits during the past two weeks." He cast a shrewd glance at Cole. "Is there a reason why I've been seeing so much of you, lately?"
Images of Olivia McNeill's face flashed through Cole's mind. Every time he had visited his friend, the latter would ask the same question. And Cole would usually avoid an answer with complaints about his job. This time, Cole decided to change tactics. "I'm thinking about moving here," he answered. "To New Orleans. It's always been one of my favorite cities. And I think I've had enough of San Francisco."
"Uh-huh. Who's the woman?"
Cole glanced sharply at Andre. "What are you talking about?"
Andre rolled his eyes and placed his coffee cup on the small table next to him. "C'mon man! You seem just a little too cheerful, today. It's not your style. It can't be work. You're always bitching about that. When something or someone really bothers you, you tend to keep it to yourself. So, who's the woman? Your ex-wife, Phoebe?"
A sigh left Cole's mouth. There were times he wished that Andre did not know him so well. Hell, three years ago, he would have killed someone for knowing too much about him. But that had been three years ago. Two years with the Halliwells and nearly three months with the McNeills had changed everything. Changed him.
"There was . . ." Cole began. He paused, as his eyes focused upon the Spanish Colonial buildings, situated across the street. "It happened on New Year's Day. Around midnight, to be exact."
Andre frowned. "What happened?"
Cole took a deep breath and explained what happened over the New Year holiday. He told Andre everything - Olivia's invitation, the actual party at the Fairmont Hotel, Cole's doubts about kissing Olivia, the actual kiss . . . Cole's reaction, and Olivia's.
"Oh. Dear. Lord!" Andre stared at Cole with disbelief. "Please tell me you didn't, man!"
Nodding, Cole replied, "Yeah, I did. It was . . . I don't know! It was stupid of me to kiss her like that. I mean one doesn't kiss a friend. Not like that!"
Andre rolled his eyes in disgust. "Just how long have you been without a woman, boy?" he retorted with mild contempt. "There was nothing wrong about that kiss. I was talking about your reaction. You practically pushed the woman away!"
"Haven't you heard a word I had said? I had kissed a friend! A very close friend!"
The New Orleans-born man shot back, "So? She's a woman, ain't she?"
Cole hesitated. "Well, yeah."
"Did you enjoy the kiss?"
Again, Cole hesitated. "It was . . . it wasn't . . . bad." He glanced up and saw the knowing look in Andre's eyes. "Okay, yeah I did. I enjoyed it very much. But dammit, Andre! You don't understand. I didn't want to give Olivia the impression that I was interested in her. I don't want to spoil our friendship."
A snicker escaped Andre's mouth. "I'd say you've already done it. You know what your problem is, don't you, man?"
Cole stared at his friend, wearing a bewildered expression. "Problem?"
"Yeah. You've spent most of your life seducing other women for a certain purpose that you've never really learned how to deal with romance." Andre paused. "Actually, I can think of a lot of mortals who are the same way. Let's face it. When it comes to romance . . . or a woman, you're just a babe in the woods."
Cole flashed an annoyed glance at his friend. "Thank you for that in-depth analysis, Dr. Ruth's Son. May I remind you that I was once married?"
"May I remind you that you were possessed by a powerful daemon at the time?" Andre retorted. "What happened next wasn't exactly a reflection of your skills in the Romance Department. Of course, I can't say the same about Whatshername."
"Thanks. And her name is Phoebe."
Andre continued, "Look, you want my advice? Here it is. Apologize to Olivia. Tell her that you're sorry for what happened, and that you enjoyed the kiss so much that it took you by surprise. Simple." He paused. "Then again, this is Olivia we're talking about. Apologizing to her ain't gonna be that simple.
Cole reflected upon Andre's words with a sigh. "I guess you're right. I have to apologize. I just hope that Olivia is willing to listen." He took one look at his friend's dubious expression and realized he had a battle on his hands.
* * * *
Nearly everyone stared at the scorch mark on the ceiling with shock and surprise. Well, not everyone. Olivia noticed that one person in particular, reacted with horror. "Oh my God!" Paige cried. "Oh God! You've got a demonic power!"
Olivia and the others stared at the young witch with confused eyes. "Demonic what?" the former asked.
"A fire power," Paige replied. "Demonic power. Phoebe had the same when she was pregnant with the Source's child. The baby took control of her. Gave her a demonic power."
Jack McNeill rolled his eyes. "Paige, don't take this the wrong way, but what in the hell are you talking about? There's no such thing as a demonic power. I thought you knew that."
Paige's eyes shifted back and forth - from the McNeill patriarch to Olivia. "Oh," she began in an uneasy voice. "I mean, yeah. I guess . . . I forgot." Then she asked, "But is it really common for witches to have a fire power?"
"Yes it is, love," Olivia's mother patiently answered. "Pyrokinesis is quite common." She glanced uneasily at her daughter. "Except at that strength is quite rare. Pyrokinesis . . . it's a rather difficult power to master."
Olivia let out a groan. Mastering her telekinesis had been difficult enough when she was a child. But pyrokinesis!"
Paige continued, "But I don't understand. I knew that Bruce has a second power, and Mr. McNeill. But Livy, why did it take you so long to receive yours? And why don't the others have one?"
"Family tradition," Jack replied curtly. "Possessing two powers is usually common in the McNeill family. And we usually receive our second power, while we are in our late twenties or early thirties. I received my second one when I was Olivia's age."
Olivia added in a remorseful voice, "Yeah, but you didn't receive pyrokinesis. How am I going to deal with this?"
Gweneth slipped an arm around her daughter's shoulders and gave them a tight squeeze. "You'll deal with the same way you did with your first power. Besides, you shouldn't treat this new power as a curse. You're a McNeill witch with pyrokinesis, love. Don't you realize what this means?"
"No, I don't."
The head of the McNeill family let out a sigh. "I forgot. You don't know about . . ."
Blue lights heralded the arrival of Leo Wyatt, whitelighter to the McNeill siblings and the Charmed Ones. His blue eyes expressed more than concern. They expressed outright anxiety. "I found what happened!" he declared breathlessly to Olivia. "About your new power." His gaze focused on the scorch mark on the ceiling.
Paige stared at her brother-in-law with disbelief. "You know about Olivia's new fire power, already?"
"The Elders became aware of it the moment Olivia first used it." Again, he faced Olivia. "How . . . how on earth did you get a demonic power?"
A long sigh escaped Jack's mouth. "Okay! That's it! I've had enough of this demonic power shit! Leo, Olivia does not have a demonic power. Pyrokinesis is not evil. Nor is any other power. And why in the hell are the whitelighters concerned about her?"
"Really?" Leo retorted. "Because I've yet to meet a witch with the power of pyrokinesis!"
Bruce rolled his eyes, while his father shot back, "Then you must not have seen much for a whitelighter who has been around for sixty years. I have met witches with pyrokinesis. Including members of the McNeill family. Including my dad's Cousin Keith, who had recently passed away. Even Olivia's great-great grandfather had it, as a matter of fact."
"Her great-great . . .?" Leo blinked.
"Oh yeah," Bruce added. "I remember Grandad talking about him. Great-great Grandfather William. I heard that he could form fireballs. Like Cousin Keith."
Paige frowned. "Fireballs? Like demons?"
The McNeill men stared at Paige. Olivia remained silent, her hands tucked underneath her armpits. "Hey! People! While this great philosophical debate is going on, can someone please tell me how to deal with this new power?"
Her mother gently guided Olivia toward the sofa. "Pet, I've already told you. You're just going to have to deal with it in the same manner that you learned how to control your first power."
"Like practice," Paige suggested.
Gweneth spared the young witch a grateful smile. "Including practice. However, I believe meditation will also help."
"Meditation." Olivia nodded. "Right."
Harry spoke up. "Maybe you can find someone to help you practice with your pyrokinesis. Like Cole. He once told me how difficult it was for him to control his fire power at first."
Olivia automatically rejected the idea. Nearly two weeks had passed since that disastrous New Year's party. And right now, she had no desire to receive help from Cole. Let alone see him.
Paige frowned. "I thought he only used to have energy balls. Electrokinesis."
"Who cares what he had?" Leo cried. "Don't any of you understand what's going on? Olivia has a firepower! A demonic power! And all of you are standing around, acting as if there is nothing to be concerned about!"
An annoyed Gweneth McNeill retorted, "Of course there's nothing to be concerned about!" Her voice softened. "Once Olivia learns how to control her new power."
"Yeah, but . . ."
"Leo?" Jack's voice rang clear and sharp. "I realize that you're only concerned for Olivia - although I don't know why considering you haven't been her whitelighter for over twelve years. But I'm getting sick and damn tired of this ridiculous morality of yours! Olivia now has pyrokinesis. Nothing more, nothing less! She's not some damn warlock or daemon! And if any of my children end up suffering, because of the whitelighters' self-righteous attitude, I swear to both the God and Goddess herself that I'll find a darklighter's crossbow and use it on you!" Blue-gray eyes radiated cold anger. "Understand?"
Silence enveloped the drawing room. Olivia's father continued to glare at the whitelighter. Olivia, her brothers, Paige and the other guests, stared goggle-eyed at the pair. Davies took the opportunity to surreptiously slip out of the room. And Gweneth suddenly became interested in the food on her plate.
"I . . ." Leo began. Then he broke off. He seemed unable to say anything further.
Jack shot back, "You what?"
"Never mind." Leo took a deep breath. Then his eyes glanced upward. "I think I've been summoned. Excuse me." He orbed away without any further words.
Everyone else heaved sighs of relief. Everyone, except for Jack, who faced Olivia. "Now, let's see about dealing with this new power of yours."
Olivia decided that she had it all figured out. "It's simple," she explained. "All I need is daily meditation and some practice, and I should have it all under control."
"Oh really?" Gweneth added. "You think it's that simple? Livy, this is pyrokinesis, you're dealing with. Handling fire is difficult for those who practice magic. If you're going to learn to control this power, you need to find someone who can help you. Someone who also has pyrokinesis."
Aunt Carla, Olivia's godmother, spoke up. "Oh, I wish I could help. But the only person I know who had pyrokinesis accidentally killed himself, while conducting some spell. Poor thing. He didn't really know what he was doing. And he had just learned how to use this power."
"Great," Olivia mumbled. "Something for me to remember always."
"I know someone," said Barbara. The perky blonde placed her plate on the nearest table. "Margot Palmer. She's part of my old coven. We're not exactly friends, but I think she would be willing to help."
Bruce added, "Why don't you just ask Cole? He's the perfect person."
"I'd rather ask Barbara's friend, thank you very much," Olivia grumbled. "I don't see why we have to run to Cole, every time we need help."
Gweneth glared at her daughter. "And why not? If there is anyone who would know about pyrokinesis, it's Cole. And something tells me that Ms. Palmer's fire power is not as strong."
Olivia opened her mouth to retort. Then she closed it. "What?" her father demanded. "Were you about to say something?"
"No. I was merely considering Barbara's suggestion."
Jack continued, "Really? And what's wrong with Cole? Do you think he would mind helping you?"
A hesitant Olivia paused, before answering, "No. I don't think so."
"Then why haven't we laid eyes upon him in nearly two weeks?" Jack gave Olivia a pointed stare. "Can you explain that?"
Olivia could, but she would be damn if she would give any of her family the satisfaction.
END OF PART ONE
"LOVER MAN"
PART THREE
The Bridge's turbolift doors slid open. Tom Paris emerged from the lift and strode toward the Conn Station to relieve Mariah Henley.
From the Engineering Station, B'Elanna watched the entire exchange from the corners of her eyes. She noticed that Mariah's shoulders stiffened under contact from Paris's hand. And the smirk that appeared on the Chief Helmsman's lips. A red flush tinged Mariah's face, as she walked toward the turbolift.
B'Elanna's console beeped. She glanced down and found a message flashed across her screen. "Keep your eyes on the job, Maquis. Tuvok is watching." B'Elanna's eyes widened at Harry's message. Then she looked up and found a pair of dark eyes that belonged to the Vulcan Tactical Chief. Observing her. The engineer coughed slightly and returned her attention to her work. However, not before she returned Harry's message. "Thanks Starfleet."
Since the day Harry had convinced her not to report Tom's indiscretions to Chakotay, B'Elanna has found herself growing increasingly obsessed with the pilot. She tried to curb this obsession and convince herself that she was wasting her time. After all, she has failed to come across any signs of sexual activity in Cabin Nine-I since that second time. Unfortunately, B'Elanna also continued to be plagued with dreams of her and Paris. Much to her mortification.
There seemed to be one bright light in the horizon. Ever since Paris's troubles on Banea, his circle of female admirers seem to have shrunken to almost non-existent. Like B'Elanna and other crewmen, they had heard about his affair with the wife of a murdered Banean scientist. And his conviction for murder by the Banean government. Paris ended up reliving the entire killing from the victim's viewpoint, thanks to some implanted memory engrams. However, his punishment ended up short-lived. Lieutenant Tuvok managed to exonerate Paris after discovering a murder-and-espionage conspiracy that had allegedly framed the pilot.
Many believed that Tuvok had conjured up evidence to exonerate Paris at Captain Janeway's behest. B'Elanna found that particular theory ludicrous. Tuvok may have been a traitorous spy, but not even he would go that far. She had to admit - most reluctantly - that Paris was innocent.
There still remained another matter regarding the blond helmsman. The identity of his secret lover from Cabin Nine-I. It was a mystery that B'Elanna felt determined to uncover. Who else, besides Paris, had kept her awake with sounds of passion on two separate occasions, during the past several weeks?
While B'Elanna contemplated the question, Paris's combadge chirped, breaking the silence on the Bridge. "Janeway to Paris," the Captain's voice announced. "Have you forgotten about our appointment in my Ready Room?"
This time, B'Elanna openly stared at the pilot. Like everyone else on the Bridge. A crewman in Command Red relieved Paris at the Helm. And the latter made his way to the Captain's Ready Room. The moment he disappeared inside, B'Elanna sent a second message to Harry's station. "What was that about?"
Seconds later, Harry's response flashed across her console. "Have no idea, Maquis. Will ask Tom later."
B'Elanna eventually found herself forced to contemplate upon the meeting inside the Ready Room, between the pilot and the starship captain. She admitted to herself that the meeting could be innocent. But when Paris failed to reappear on the Bridge after ten minutes, B'Elanna became suspicious. Another five minutes passed and yet, Janeway and Paris remained inside the Ready Room. B'Elanna glanced at Harry, who shrugged. Then her eyes rested upon the First Officer. Who casted uneasy glances at the Ready Room's door.
After twenty more minutes passed, those doors finally opened. Tom Paris strode onto the Bridge, wearing a satisfied smile. He tugged at his jacket and relieved the pilot at the Helm. The Captain emerged two minutes later, looking quite happy and unusually bright. One look at the pair and B'Elanna immediately rejected any idea of an innocent meeting. Something had just occurred between Paris and Janeway. Something that had nothing to do with the ship's business or Starfleet protocols.
* * * *
"What?" Harry stared at B'Elanna with disbelief. So did Seska, Henley and Ensign Lang. The five crewman had gathered at a table inside the Mess Hall for dinner, that evening.
The Chief Engineer repeated her speculations about Janeway and Paris. That the two might be involved in an affair. "C'mon Harry! You saw what happened on the Bridge, today! Why would Paris remain in the Captain's Ready Room together for over a half hour? Thirty-five minutes, Harry! And don't tell me that it had something to do with what happened on Banea. That was nearly two weeks ago!"
"The real question should be," Seska added, "why would you care?"
B'Elanna stared at the Bajoran. "What?"
Seska continued, "I can understand why Henley would be upset." The pilot responded with a glare. "But why are you upset, B'Elanna? You don't like Paris. You've barely given him a thought since we arrived in the Delta Quadrant. Why do you care whether or not he's having an affair with Janeway?"
All eyes focused on the half-Klingon. B'Elanna squirmed under their scrutiny. What could she say? That the lovemaking in Cabin Nine-I was keeping her awake? Or that she was having erotic dreams about her and the chief pilot? "I don't like the idea of us suffering, due to some illicit affair between those two," she finally answered.
A brittle laugh escaped the Bajoran's mouth. "Oh B'Elanna! You are so naïve!" The Chief Engineer winced under the latter's derision. "I doubt that 150 crewmen are going to suffer over some tawdry affair Janeway might be having with Paris! Unless she becomes pregnant or something. I may not like the woman very much, but I can't blame her for wanting a little comfort to ease her loneliness."
"Seska's right," Henley added. "After all, Chakotay's romance with her didn't hurt us." She remained stoic under the Bajoran's dark glare. "Of course in the Captain's case, I cannot see why she would even have . . ." Her voice dimmed to a whisper. B'Elanna noticed the slight jealousy in her voice. Obviously, Mariah also became aware of it.
Seska smiled. "What were you about to say, Mariah?"
Fortunately for the ex-Maquis pilot, Harry and Deborah Lang seemed more interested in defending Janeway's honor than in any jealousy on Henley's part. Lang stoutly declared that Captain Janeway would never break Starfleet protocols by fraternizing with someone under her command. "It's against regulations," she added.
"Actually, it's not," Harry corrected. "But it's not encouraged. An intimate relationship between a starship commander and a subordinate might lead to . . . well, certain problems. Problems that might have a bearing on the conduct of any starship."
Seska snorted. "And knowing Janeway, she'd rather die with her ideals intact than enjoy a little pleasure. So much for your theory, B'Elanna."
"Oh yeah?" the Chief Engineer shot back. "Then can someone explain why the Captain and Paris were in the Ready Room for at least a half hour? And why they were smiling, when they left?"
* * * *
"We had tea," Tom explained to his lover, the following afternoon. They laid stretched on the bed, inside Cabin Nine-I, with their naked bodies pressed against each other's. "The Captain had invited me for tea." He leaned toward her and nipped the side of her long neck.
She managed to scoff and moan at the same time, while Tom continued to nuzzle her neck. "You've got to be kidding! Why would . . . ah!" He bit into that sensitive junction where the shoulder and neck met.
"I think the Captain considers me her little reclamation project. We were suppose to have tea after the shift, but the Captain had another matter to deal with. So," Tom's hot tongue flickered across the hollow of her neck, "she rescheduled it for a little earlier." He sat up and lavisciously eyed the stunning body beside him. "If you think something is going on between us, you're mistaken. Captain Janeway is not the type to make out with a subordinate, just several feet away from the Bridge. That's just plain idiocy."
Slender hands trailed up Tom's chest. Her fingers slide through the chest hair. "You seem very defensive about her."
A malicious smile touched Tom's lips. "What's the matter? Jealous?"
Her hands grabbed a handful of chest hair and pulled, causing Tom to wince. "Don't insult me, Paris. I don't take kindly to any disrespect."
Tom jerked her hand away and gave it a hard squeeze. This time, it was her turn to wince. "Let's get something straight," he murmured. "Unless I'm on duty, I am not in the habit of jumping through hoops for anyone. At least of all, for you. I've had enough of that in my life."
"Then why are you here?"
"For a good, fuck. What did you think? Because I'm madly in love with you?" Tom retorted.
She threw back her head and laughed. Out loud. Her laugh immediately died as Tom covered the mound between her legs. He inserted two fingers into her hot flesh. She let out a gasp, as her body jerked automatically. "Gods! I hope you're not in love," she said breathlessly. "What would be the fun in that?"
Smiling, Tom removed his fingers and gently forced her legs apart. Then he took her by surprise by ramming his member into her. She let out a cry and her body arched upward. Tom's thrusts became deeper. Harder. He leaned forward and covered one tantalizing breast with his mouth and began to suckle. And her cries grew louder.
* * * *
Unbeknownst to the occupants inside Cabin Nine-I, a certain chief engineer had slowly made her way to her quarters, two hours earlier than usual. She would have remained in Engineering a bit longer, but a shortage in one of the EPS relay circuits led to a slight electrocution and minor burns.
One of B'Elanna's engineers had beamed her into Sick Bay. There, the Doctor treated her injuries and gave her an anaglesiac for the pain. He also ordered her to return to her quarters for a long rest. B'Elanna's first instinct was to ignore the EMH's order. Unfortunately, he threatened to inform both the Captain and Chakotay if she did not obey.
Feeling slightly dazed from the medication in her bloodstream, B'Elanna eventually stumbled into her quarters. She peeled off her uniform and headed for the bedroom. Just as she was about to sink onto her bed, voices drifted from next door.
"Oh! Oh yes! Oh spirits! Don't . . . don't stop! Don't . . . oooh! Oh yes! Aaa . . . aaah! Yes! Don't . . . oh! Oh To-ooo-omm!" The orgasmic cry snapped B'Elanna out of her fog. She had not heard such a cry in over two weeks. Before Paris's murder conviction on the Banean homeworld. Her eyes closed and she sighed.
Muted laughter reached B'Elanna's ears. Apparently, Paris and his . . . "mate" had finished. She had hoped that news of Paris's affair with that Banean woman would end the illicit trysts in Cabin Nine-I. Harry must have informed Paris about her knowledge of the affair, leading the pilot to use the cabin a few hours earlier. No matter. B'Elanna had finally figured out a way to kill two birds with one stone - learn the identity of Paris's lover and get even with both for keeping her up at nights. Just before Paris and Harry's mission to Banea, she had installed a holovideo monitor in Cabin 9-I.
B'Elanna had forgotten about the monitor - until now. She planned to upload a recording of this afternoon's activity into the ship's computer. Or better yet, transform it into a holoprogram. And finally allow the crew an intimate look of Lover Boy Paris in action. It should be the talk of the ship for months to come.
* * * *
Like many of her plans in life, the one to expose Tom Paris and his lover did not proceed as B'Elanna had expected. The following morning saw more problems in Engineering. More malfunctions with the EPS conduits led to repairs that lasted nearly an entire day. By the time B'Elanna and her staff finished the repairs, she was too exhausted to even think about the video recording.
The following day, Voyager came across an M-class planet that provided the crew an opportunity to stock up on foodstuffs and other supplies. Also, both Chakotay and Seska had a near-fatal encounter with a group of Kazons. The latter continued to weigh on the crew's mind, when Voyager responded to a distress signal from one of their ships. B'Elanna made up part of the Away team that discovered not only a ship filled with dead Kazons, but also Federation technology that was not properly integrated into their system. Someone aboard Voyager had given Federation technology to the Kazon without Janeway's knowledge.
No one had been more surprised than B'Elanna when Tuvok and Chakotay revealed the culprit, the following day. Like many of the other former Maquis, B'Elanna assumed Joe Carey to be guilty. They believed he wanted revenge for being passed over for the position of Chief Engineer. Instead, Seska - one of her closest friends - turned out to be guilty. Even worse, the latter was revealed to be a Cardassian, surgically altered as a Bajoran, in order to infiltrate Chakotay's Maquis cell.
B'Elanna felt humiliated and betrayed. Chakotay might feel even worse, but that knowledge did not lessen her feelings. She tried to alleviate her mood with an evening trip to Sandrine's. But the idea of listening to smug 'Fleeters berate the Maquis for allowing a Cardassian spy in their midst did not appeal to her. She needed something else to relieve her anger.
Then she remembered. Tom and Cabin 9-I. At first, B'Elanna wondered if she wanted to watch a vid of Paris having sex with a crewmember. Witnessing his little bout with Mallory Aiwa had been bad enough. But, dammit! She had to do something! Brooding over Seska's betrayal did not help her mood. So, B'Elanna switched on her computer console, entered a few codes and uploaded the recorded images from the monitor next door. Satisfied that she had completed her task, she played back the images. What she saw nearly sent her into a state of shock. How could Tom Paris end up in an affair with her?
The plans to reveal the recording to the crew became null and void. B'Elanna did not kill her plans out of any feelings toward the lovers on the screen. She simply did not want to embarrass or hurt a friend. And revealing this to the crew would do just that.
* * * *
Tom bent over the pool table and sunk his last ball into a pocket with ease. His opponent groaned. "Your game is really improving, Tommy," Gaunt Gary commented with a sigh. "Maybe just a little too much. When did you learn that maneuver?"
"From watching you," Tom replied. "I only learn from the best." The hologram grimaced.
With the exception of a handful, only holographic characters like Gaunt Gary and Sandrine filled the Marsaille tavern that evening. Although Tom had left the program opened to the entire crew, three crewmen other than himself, had bothered to show up. Ensigns Lang and Ashmore only hung around for an hour, before leaving. Crewman Henley sat in a corner table with a few of the program's characters. It seemed the ex-Maquis preferred their company to his.
Henley and the other Maquis must still be in a state of shock over the revelations about Seska. Tom did not blame them. He felt the same. That she would hand over Federation technology behind Janeway's back did not really surprise him. The shock came from news that Seska had been a Cardassian in disguise. A Cardassian with the Obsidian Order. That meant . . .
The tavern doors opened. B'Elanna Torres strode inside, causing Tom to groan inwardly. She waved at Henley, glanced at Tom and headed toward the pool table. Much to the pilot's dismay.
"We-ell!" Gary proclaimed. "Look who's here! Wanna game with me, honey?" He oogled at the Chief Engineer, who fixed him with a deadly stare. If looks could kill, B'Elanna's glare would have destabilized Gary's matrix by now. "On second thought," the pool player added in a shaky voice, "maybe I had enough for this evening. See you, Tommy." He gave a quick wave and headed for Henley's table.
Torres stared coolly at Tom. "Up for another game, Paris?"
Tom frowned. "You want to play? Against me?" he asked.
"Why not? It's not like you've been beaten before."
A tart smile curled Tom's lips. "Yeah, but I don't see the Captain around, anywhere. And you're not exactly in her league."
"Rack 'em, Flyboy!" Torres snapped back. "And be prepared to have your ass kicked!"
Again, Tom smiled as he set up the balls for another game. Granted, he was not particularly fond of the half-Klingon. However, he had to admit that he found her to be a fascinating personality. And a very beautiful woman. His eyes roamed appreciatively over her slim body. But even better, she was, at best, a mediocre pool player.
Sure enough, the pilot proved to be more than a match for the engineer. The latter managed to sink in a ball or two during the game. But in the end, Tom emerged victorious. "Another game," Torres imperiously demanded.
"Look Torres, why don't we end this evening on a good note? If we play another game, it will only end embarrassingly for you. Trust me."
Dark eyes challenged Tom. "Don't count on it, Paris. I plan to make this next game unpleasant for you. C'mon, rack 'em up!"
Tom gave the engineer a long, cool look. "What's going on, Torres? You usually try to avoid my company. And now you want to shoot pool with me?" He paused, as an idea came to him. An unpleasant one, at that. "Has this something to do with Cabin 9-I?" he asked.
Anger replaced the challenging look in Torres's eyes. "Cabin 9-I?"
"Come off it, Torres! You know what I'm talking about!" Tom retorted. "Harry told me everything. Look, I had no idea that your cabin was next door. Nor did I realize you would hear everything . . ." Neither Tom nor Torres heard the tavern doors creak open. Or see the tall figure that entered, since they were facing the opposite direction.
"Believe me, Paris," Torres shot back, "I heard everything. Just tell me this. When you fucked Seska, did you ever realize that she was a Cardassian?"
A gust of breath left Tom's mouth. He stared at the half-Klingon in total shock. "Gods! How did . . .?" Tom finally recovered his voice. "How did you find out about Seska and me?" He tried his best to sound calm. "What did I do? Scream her name out loud?"
"No, she screamed your name," Torres responded. Tom almost blushed. "However, I didn't find out about Seska until I saw this." She removed a data chip from her pocket. "I had placed a video monitor in the cabin, nearly two weeks ago. And captured both of you in action."
Tom stared at the data chip. He wondered if the Chief Engineer planned to use it for some blackmail scheme. "By the way, I'm not in the business of blackmail," she added, as if reading his mind. "I don't stoop that low."
"Really? And what do you call placing that monitor in the cabin?" Tom shot back. "Why did you do it?"
Torres's stare became accusing. "Why did you sleep with Seska? Why her, Paris? It's bad enough she turned out to be a Cardassian. But you fucked her, even though she was suppose . . ."
"Suppose to what? Be Chakotay's lady love? As I recall, they broke up not long after he became First Officer. Something tells me that Seska didn't take the change in their relationship very well."
Disgust tinged Torres's voice. "And you just decided to screw her, so you could add one more notch on your belt. Is that it? Or was this your way of getting back at Chakotay?"
Tom smiled. He might as tell her everything. It would be interesting to see how she would react. "Actually, Seska caught me off guard, one night. When I was on Deck Nine. After that, she wanted to meet there, because it was convenient and she didn't have to worry about someone spotting me enter her quarters. Can't have a former Maquis be seen with Tom Paris. Granted, both of us could barely stand each other, but . . . I must say, she was great in bed. Something I had recalled from our time together in the Maquis."
A gasp left Torres's mouth, much to Tom's amusement. Bullseye. Her dark eyes grew wide with disbelief. "You mean to say that you and Seska were . . .?"
"That's right, Lieutenant. Lovers. Only, I wasn't the only one. Both here on Voyager and back in the Maquis," Tom added softly. "Seska had her little circle of lovers available, whenever she and Chakotay . . ." Suddenly aware of a third figure standing nearby, Tom glanced to his left and the words died on his lips. Trembling in rage, stood Voyager's First Officer. Torres's eyes followed Tom's and she gasped for the second time.
Chakotay stepped forward, rage reflecting his his black eyes. For a few seconds, Tom experienced genuine fear. Would he find himself in Sick Bay, covered in bruises and blood? He hoped not. Then again, he had endured beatings before.
"What others?" the older man demanded softly. "Who were the others, Paris?"
Torres stepped forward. "Chakotay . . ."
Tom took a deep breath. Squelched the fear within him. "I don't know," he curtly replied. "Why do you care anyway, Chakotay? You were never in love with Seska. Hell, you proved that when you dumped . . ." A bronze fist cut him off and sank into his gut. Another clipped him on the jaw and Tom fell back onto the floor.
Blood trickled from the corner of the pilot's mouth, as he remained sprawled on the floor. He could see the other figures, including Henley, drifting toward the pool table. Tom struggled to his feet and wiped the blood from his mouth.
"Thomas, are you hurt?" a concerned Sandrine asked.
Laughter, soft and bitter, rose from Tom's throat. "I'm fine, Sandrine. Just caught off guard, that's all." He faced the First Officer. "Good punch, Chakotay. I see that you haven't lost your touch."
"That was nothing, Paris," Chakotay growled. "I'm not through with you, yet."
Tom smirked, despite the pain from his bruised jaw. "If I were you, Commander, I'd drop the whole matter. Or else the Captain is going to start wondering why I have extra duty assignments. Or why I have to show up at Sick Bay for unexplained bruises. I am curious as to how you're going to explain this."
Chakotay retorted, "Explain all you want, Paris. It will be your word against mine. And I don't think B'Elanna or Mariah will be willing to testify on your behalf."
"Oh, I don't I'll need them. Don't forget the video monitors inside the holodeck. I'm sure they've recorded the whole thing. Unless you plan to tamper with them. Then again," another painful smirk touched Tom's lips, "knowing your penchant for truth and justice, you just might march up to the Captain's quarters and tell her everything." Tom paused. "Do you really want to do that?"
A long silence followed. Tom met Chakotay's stare with his own cool one. Finally, the First Officer let out something like a cross between a grunt and a snort. "You're not worth the effort," he said with disgust. Then he turned on his heels and stalked out of the holodeck.
* * * *
B'Elanna cried after the older man. "Chakotay!" But he did not hear. She whirled upon Paris and found him staring at her, coldly. "What? What is it?"
"Congratulations, Torres," he said softly. "Looks like you got what you wanted, after all. My humiliation. Only you got a friend humiliated as well. Tell me, why did you put that monitor in that cabin? Because we interrupted your sleep for a few nights? Why in the hell didn't you just let it go?" He walked out of Sandrine's, rubbing his jaw.
Henley walked up to B'Elanna. Her gray-blue eyes expressed concern. Curiosity. B'Elanna, are you okay?"
"Yeah," the other woman murmured.
"What was that about?"
Revenge gone wrong, B'Elanna silently replied. She kept the response to herself. Along with the memory of Chakotay's humiliation . . . and Paris's contempt. Then she took a deep breath. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
THE END
"CROSSROADS OF THE FORCE"
CHAPTER FOUR
THE VELM SYSTEM
Han and Anakin stood near the Javian Hawk's boarding ramp, while they observed Mako converse with the Dreadnought's captain. Both the Hawk and Mako's ship, the Alastian Star, stood inside the Imperial cruiser's shuttle bay, surrounded by stormtroopers. Han glanced at his partner's face. Despite Anakin's stoic expression, the young Corellian could sense the older man's unease.
"Don't worry," Han whispered. "Mako seems to know what he's doing. He probably knows this guy from the Imperial Academy or something. They seem a little friendly."
Anakin muttered back, "I hope so, for our own sake. Because if this Captain Skafte insists upon inspecting our cargo, be prepared to run for it." A sharp sigh escaped from his mouth. "I should have stayed aboard the Hawk. We both should."
Han could not help but privately agree. It worried him that an Imperial ship had finally been able to catch them after ten years of smuggling. Perhaps Anakin had a right to complain about Mako's route to Maldore. He stole another glance at the older man. Anakin's expression now looked intense. The former Jedi seemed to be concentrating on Mako and Captain Skafte. "I wonder what they're talking about," Anakin commented in a dark tone. "Do you really think Spince will be able to convince the captain to let us go?"
With a shrug, Han replied, "I don't know. Like I said, they seem to be a little friendly with each other.
"Right now, I don't sense anything amiss," Anakin continued. "But the moment I give the signal that something's wrong, get aboard the Hawk as soon as possible. And start shooting at anyone who moves."
Han saw a flaw in Anakin's desperate plan. "Shouldn't I at least wait for Mako to board his ship?"
Anakin shot a dark glance at Han. "Why bother? You honestly think he would make it in time?"
Slowly, Han turned to stare at his partner. Was Anakin actually willing to sacrifice Mako in order to escape from the Imperials? Before he could comment, his eyes fell upon a handcuffed Wookie entering the shuttle bay with flanking stormtroopers. "What's he doing here?" Han whispered.
"Who?"
"The Wookie!" Han indicated the newcomer with a nod of his head. "Looks like he's a prisoner."
Anakin mumbled, "I'm not surprised. After Kashyyyk, the Imperials have been using captured Wookies as slaves."
"Slaves!" Han felt a stab to his stomach. The idea of any Wookie being a prisoner sickened him. And this particular prisoner reminded him of Dewlanna. He wondered if she would have faced a similar fate if she had returned to Kashyyyk following her husband's death. One glance at Anakin told Han that the former felt equally disgusted. After all, the two partners had endured some form of slavery during their respective childhoods. "I wish we could free him," Han added. "The Wookie, I mean."
"Right now, we should be worried about us," Anakin muttered.
At that moment, Mako and Captain Skafte approached the partners. "So," the latter commented, "you're friends of Mako?"
"That's right," Han replied with fake cheerfulness.
Mako added, "I had just informed Captain Skafte that we're shipping power converters to Maldore."
Anakin asked, "Are you two familiar with each other?"
"Captain Skafte used to be one of my instructors at the Imperial Academy," Mako explained. He added sheepishly, "Before I was expelled."
The captain added, "Now that Mako has explained everything, you're free . . ."
A loud roar filled the shuttle bay. The four men diverted their attention to the stormtroopers struggling with the Wookie captor. A frown darkened Skafte's countenance. "Now what?" he muttered. "Treece! What is going on?"
A blond-haired junior officer replied, "I'm sorry sir. The Wookie is being difficult. Being an animal, I guess he can't help himself."
"You have a Wookie as a slave?" Anakin asked, surprising Han, Mako and Skafte.
The captain regarded Anakin warily. "Do you have a problem with this . . . uh, Captain . . .?"
"Horus. Set Horus." Anakin shook his head. "No sir, I don't. In fact, slavery is very common where I come from. I'm merely surprised that you would use Wookie labor. I've heard rumors that they can be difficult as slaves. Not that I actually believe such rumors." Han noticed that Anakin had refrained from mentioning his homeworld by name.
A cool smile touched Skafte's lips. "They've made pretty good slaves since the fall of Kashyyyk, ten years ago. And this slave," he nodded at the Wookie, "happens to be a talented technician and pilot. The Trandoshans had captured him some three months ago. This Wookie tried to escape before he could be sold, but he failed and served under another Imperial commander before he was transferred to me." I've had him for a week and plan to transfer him the Maw, where he is to work on one of the Empire's new projects."
Anakin's face expressed interest. "Really? A pilot and a technician? How long have you had him aboard this starship?"
With a shrug, Skafte replied, "Oh, about a week. I'm transporting this . . . creature to the Maw, where he is to work on one of the Empire's new projects."
"How much are you willing to sell for this . . . creature?" Anakin's question surprised Han.
Apparently, Skafte also seemed surprised by Anakin's request. He frowned at the former Jedi and asked, "You're interested in buying this Wookie? Why? Didn't you say that they don't make good slaves?"
"I said that most people don't consider them to be good slaves," Anakin corrected. "I also said that I didn't believe such nonsense. According to you, he's a good mechanic and I can certainly use one."
Han struggled to contain his excitement. Did Anakin actually plan to help free the Wookie? He noticed that Skafte had become pensive for a few minutes. Then the officer stared at Anakin. Han wondered if his partner had gone too far.
"How do you plan to keep him in line?" the Imperial officer finally asked.
A cruel smile curved Anakin's lips. For the first time in years, Han could imagine him as a Sith Lord. "Let's just say that I plan to use a more effective method other than a blaster or taser," he coldly replied.
As the two men walked away to discuss the enslaved Wookie, Mako leaned forward to whisper in Han's ear. "What's going on?"
Han tried to play dumb. "Huh?"
"The Wookie!" Mako hissed. "Why is Horus suddenly interested in the Wookie?"
Han murmured back, "We need an extra mechanic for the Hawk."
"Who are you kidding?" Mako retorted. "Horus could probably fix that ship of his, blind-folded. Or else he could simply buy a droid." Realization gleamed in his eyes. "Oh no! Horus is trying to . . ." He broke off momentarily, as an officer passed by. Then he added in a lower voice, "He plans to free that Wookie, doesn't he?"
Keeping his gaze fixed upon Anakin and Skafte, Han merely replied, "Why would any of us be interested in freeing some slave? Let alone a Wookie?"
At that moment, Anakin and Skafte returned to the younger men. The smiling Imperial commander was saying, ". . . to be of service, Captain Horus. I only hope that you realize what you're going to be dealing with." He turned to the blond-haired lieutenant. "Treece! Bring the Wookie over here! He will be leaving with our new friends."
Lieutenant Treece and two stormtroopers forced the Wookie to join Han and Anakin. As Treece began to remove the Wookie's shackles, Anakin barked, "What are you doing?"
Treece blinked several times. "Uh . . ."
"Treece, you idiot!" Skafte retorted angrily. "The Wookie is now Captain Horus' property! Not some member of his crew! Keep the shackles on! And hand him over to the Captain's co-pilot, so they can be on their way."
The red-faced Treece handed the chains to the Wookie's shackles over to Han. Who led the Wookie aboard the Hawk. The moment the pair were safely out of sight, Han unfastened the shackles. "Welcome aboard the Javian Hawk," he greeted. "I'm Han Solo. And the captain . . ."
Anakin quickly boarded the ship. "Let's go, Han!" he barked. "We're out of here! Now!"
Han flashed an apologetic smile at the Wookie and followed Anakin to the cockpit. Less than five minutes later, the Javian Hawk finally left the Dreadnought, with the Alastian Star closely behind.
--------
Chewbacca stood in the middle of the starship’s narrow passageway and stared at the shackles near his feet. Why had the boy removed them? Why . . .?
The ship jolted before Chewbacca felt it move forward. He realized that the Corellian ship had just left the Dreadnought. At first, the Wookie felt a sense of exultation. After three months he had finally escaped his Imperial masters. Then he recalled the hard eyes of the ship’s captain. A nagging fear began to worm in the back of his mind that he had exchanged several masters for a new one. Once more, his eyes fell upon the shackles. If he was still a slave, why did the boy remove his shackles?
Slowly, Chewbacca began to move around. If he could find a weapon, perhaps he might force his new . . . companions to deliver him to the nearest inhabited system. And hopefully, he would find a way to reunite with the Drunken Dancer crew.
Ten years ago, Chewbacca and a group of fellow Wookies had been charged to aid a small band of renegade Jedi, led by Olee Sandstone, to find other Jedi being hunted by the Empire. Unfortunately, the mission led to disaster as Chewbacca, Sandstone and their band fled to Kashyyyk with the Empire and a Sith Lord named Darth Rasche, close behind. Following the fall of his homeworld, Chewbacca and the Drunken Dancer’s crew spent the next decade harassing Imperial ships and freeing any Wookie slaves they came across. Just three months ago, Chewbecca came across a fellow Wookie named Tvrrdko. Unfortunately, Tvrrdko’s son had been killed while fighting aside Chewbacca during the Clone Wars . . . and blamed the latter for his son’s death. Seeking revenge, Tvrrdko betrayed Chewbacca to a Trandoshan slaver named Ssoh. A failed attempt to escape from Ssoh led the enslaved Wookie into the hands of an Imperial officer named Nyklas. The latter, a brutal and cruel taskmaster set out to make Chewbacca’s life as miserable as possible. Once more, Chewbacca made another attempt to escape slavery. With the help of the Dreadnought’s crew, Nyklas managed to prevent Chewbacca’s escape. Captain Skafte, the Dreadnought’s commander had suggested he transport Chewbacca to one of the galaxy’s hell spots - the Maw – for work on one of the Empire's new projects. One week later, the Dreadnought came across two Corellian freighters and Chewbacca no longer found himself in the hands of the Empire.
Quietly, the Wookie began his search for weapons. It did not take him long to find them in a storage cabinet near the ship’s port side. Not only did it possess blaster pistols and rifles, but also a Jedi lightsaber. Chewbacca frowned at the weapon. The sight of it reminded him of Olee Sandstone and the other former Jedi on the Drunken Dancer. The weapon also reminded him of the late Roan Shryne and the little green Jedi Master he had met during those last days of the Clone Wars. How did two smugglers managed to get their hands on a lightsaber? He reached for the weapon.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” a deep voice murmured. Chewbacca snatched a blaster pistol from the weapons cabinet and aimed it at the voice’s owner. Who happened to be the tall, blond pilot who had just purchased him from the Dreadnought’s captain. “Well, this is a new development.”
Chewbacca growled, “I want you to drop me off at the nearest inhabited system. Now!”
The pilot shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t speak Shyriiwook or any other Wookie language.” Then he roared, “Han! Get in here! Now!”
Nearly a minute passed before the younger man – Solo – appeared. “What’s the problem?” The words barely came out of his mouth, when his eyes fell upon the blaster in Chewbacca’s grip. “Whoa! I mean . . . what the hell is going on?”
“This Wookie wants something . . .” the older pilot began.
Chewbacca interrupted, “I want passage to the nearest habitable system. Or else.”
“Or else what?” Solo shot back. “Why are you pointing that blaster at my friend?”
“Your friend had just bought me,” Chewbacca growled. “I don’t intend to hang around and make it worth his while.”
Solo contemptuously rolled his eyes. “My friend had bought you so that you can be free! Why else would I remove your shackles?”
Feeling slightly foolish, Chewbacca lowered the blaster. “Oh. I . . . Sorry.”
“What did he say?” the older pilot asked.
Solo replied, “He said that he was sorry.” He turned to Chewbacca. “Listen, we’re on our way to Maldore. We can drop you off there, if you like. Or perhaps take you somewhere else.”
Chewbacca had intended to search for the Drunken Dancer if he ever found himself free. Unfortunately, three months had passed since his capture. Since Sandstone and her crew were wanted by the Empire, he felt certain that the Drunken Dancer would remain on the move. Quite frankly, he had no place to go. Her wondered if the humans would allow him to join their crew.
The older pilot gave the Wookie a knowing look. “All alone in the world?” Chewbacca nodded. The two pilots exchanged a glance before the older one added, “I realize that this might be a spur-of-the-moment thing, but . . . you’re more than welcome to join our crew.”
The pilot’s offer took Chewbacca by surprise. The former seemed to have read his thoughts. Then he recalled the weapon in the locker. He wondered if the blond man was a former Jedi . . . or that these two were involved in activities against the Empire, like the Drunken Dancer’s crew. “Well?” Solo added.
Chewbacca nodded and growled, “I would be happy to.”
Solo translated his answer to the older pilot. Who broke into a grin. “Great! You’ve already met Han Solo and I’m . . . Set Horus.” He offered his hand. “Welcome to the Javian Hawk!”
-------
CORUSCANT
A loud buzz from the door announced a visitor. Darth Rasche switched off his lightsaber and ordered, “Come in!”
A stocky man of medium height entered the Sith Lord’s personal gymnasium. He wore the uniform of an inquisitor. “I have a report regarding Senator Dahlma,” the Inquisitor announced. “Yesterday, she and her aide boarded a transport for Maldore.”
Rasche sighed. “It looks as if she had been telling the truth, after all.”
The Inquisitor continued, “There’s more. The senator remained at her private home in Malag. She did not bother to travel to her family’s estate in Dalgar.”
“Interesting.” It looked as if the Emperor’s suspicions about a non-existent funeral might be well founded. Tell your agent to keep an eye on the senator. See who goes in and out of her home.”
The agent bowed. “Yes, my Lord.” He immediately left the gymnasium.
Rasche took a deep breath and picked up his comlink. “Commander Abbas, summon the crew and prepare the Exactor for departure. I will be leaving for Maldore.”
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
Here is a gallery of photos from the new Jet Li/Jackie Chan movie, "THE FORBIDDEN KINGDOM""
"LOVER MAN"
PART TWO
TWO WEEKS LATER . . .
B'Elanna and Harry strode along the corridor of Deck Six, on their way to Jeffries Tube 69. There, they planned to work on a set of ESP conduits for repair.
"Poor Neelix," Harry bemoaned. "It must have been hell getting his lungs ripped away like that." He referred to a recent incident, in which the Talaxian had his lungs stolen by a pair of aliens, during an Away mission.
B'Elanna grunted. "If you ask me, I think Janeway let those monsters off too easily. Stealing other people's organs, for Kahless's sakes!"
Harry added, "I guess that what happens when a species has been crippled by a deadly disease. It takes away their compassion. Their morality. And it makes them dangerously desperate."
"That's no excuse!" B'Elanna angrily shot back.
"No, it isn't. But understandable."
B'Elanna bit back an exasperated sigh, as she tried not to feel irritated by Harry's compassion. She had great affection for the young ensign, but sometimes his Federation ideals really got on her nerves. For once, she wished he could be a little more . . . ruthless.
The two friends finally reached Jeffries Tube 69. B'Elanna grabbed hold of the handle for the tube's door, when Harry glanced down at his hand and let out an oath. "Dammit!" he cried.
"What's wrong?" B'Elanna demanded.
"My PADD. It has the schematics we need on it. I must have dropped it on my way here. I'll be right back." Harry turned on his heels and quickly retraced their path from the turbolift.
Meanwhile, B'Elanna attempted to open the tube's door. Only, it refused to budge. Someone had either jammed or locked the door. Muttering an oath, B'Elanna punched a few codes into the console nearby. The door finally opened on her second attempt. She grabbed her toolkit and proceeded to crawl inside the tube. The sight that greeted her inside, stopped her in her tracks.
Low moans filled the interior. Discarded uniforms were scattered about the floor. And just several yards ahead laid a completely nude Tom Paris, on his back. Straddling his waist was a female crewman - also nude - whom B'Elanna noticed was not Ensign Telac. Her breasts swung tantalizingly over Paris's face. Her body bucked up and down above the pilot's, like a rider on an unbroken horse. B'Elanna immediately recognized her. Crewman Mallory Aiwa from Security.
"Ooohh! Oh yes! Harder! Harder!" Aiwa cried. Both hers and Paris's bodies continued to move in rhythm, as they made love. Aiwa leaned closer to Paris, situating the tips of her breasts above his face. He took the bait, leaned upward and covered one breast with his mouth. His hands maintained a firm grip on her hips.
Feeling hot and embarrassed at the same time, B'Elanna immediately crawled out of the tube. She shut the door and took a deep breath. "Something wrong, Maquis?" Harry had returned with his PADD.
Breathing heavily, B'Elanna shook her head. "No! I, uh . . . It's nothing, Harry. Look, why don't we do this later? Someone else is inside, right now."
"Well, I'm sure he or she won't mind if it gets a little crowded inside." Harry knelt down on the deck and opened the door.
"Starfleet, no!"
Too late. Harry did not hear. He crawled inside the tube. B'Elanna heard a gasp. Along with Aiwa, screaming Paris's name. Seconds later, the Ops officer re-emerged from the tube and closed the door. "Oh God!" he murmured. "I didn't need to see that."
Anger toward the pilot overwhelmed B'Elanna. She wondered aloud if they should report Paris and Aiwa to Chakotay. "Why?" Harry demanded. "I doubt that sex inside a Jeffries tube would constitute as an offense. Or a danger to the ship."
"Isn't fraternalization between Starfleet personnel, prohibited?" B'Elanna demanded.
Harry quickly replied, "No, it isn't. Not as long as they are discreet."
"I wouldn't call sex in a Jeffries tube, discreet."
A sigh left her friend's mouth. "B'Elanna, let it go. They're in a Jeffries tube, not in the corridor or anywhere else for the entire crew to see. Just let it go."
B'Elanna remained silent. She and Harry could barely meet each other's gaze. Sounds of giggling and someone opening the tube's door filled their ears. Embarrassment immediately became anxiety. B'Elanna said to Harry, "I think we better get out of here." The younger man quickly agreed and the two friends quickly scrambled away.
* * * *
Once again, Tom found himself strolling along Deck Nine. He had just left Telac Mara's quarters, following a slightly difficult conversation. After two weeks of fun and great sex, the Bajoran woman had decided to end their romance.
Tom had foreseen the breakup. In fact, he helped set it in motion. Mara began expressing more than a passing interest in him. She wanted to know everything about Tom - his fears, his desires and most inner thoughts. Tom immediately realized that she wanted to move their relationship to a serious level. Only, he had no desire for such a relationship.
Rejection from a girlfriend at the Academy, a distant father and plenty of insincere friends had taught Tom to be wary of love and romance. He did not want or trust it any longer. Aside from Harry Kim as a close friend, he preferred mere acquaintances, brief sexual partners and nothing more.
To stave off the danger of Mara's increasing interest, Tom began to hold her at arms' length. Treat her in a cool manner when they were not engaged in sex. After a week of such treatment, it worked. Not only did Mara backed off, she began showing interest in other men. Just this morning, Tom had found her in the Mess Hall, sitting with Crewman Jarvin. Both seemed intensely interested in each other. Tom got the hint. Not that he really minded. He no longer had Mara in his hair. And compensation awaited him in a Jeffries tube on Deck Six. With Mallory Aiwa. Tom allowed himself a smile. A pleasant way to spend a few minutes. Now that Mara has officially ended their relationship, he was on his way to Aiwa's quar . . .
The door to one of the cabins slid open. Tom gasped at the figure standing in the doorway - completely nude. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled, shoving her back inside the cabin. "Someone could have seen you!" The doors slid shut.
A satisfied smile curled her lips. "That was the point," she said. "For you to see me. After I found out you were on this deck, I came here and ordered the computer to track you all the way from Telac's quarters."
"If you're expecting a repeat performance of two weeks ago, don't waste your time," Tom retorted. "I have other plans."
Her smile grew wider. "Certainly not with Ensign Telac, I assume. You were only in her quarters for ten minutes or less. Break up?"
Tom's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How did you find out? I haven't told anyone, yet."
"I saw the good ensign with Jarvin during breakfast, this morning. It wasn't hard to guess what was going on." She reached out and stroked Tom's cheek. "I thought you needed a little consolation."
"I already have my own ideas about that. And it involves someone else."
Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Tom's neck. "I bet she can't console you the way I can." Her mouth hovered inches away from his.
Tom inhaled deeply. He could already feel his body reacting to her nearness. And the last thing he wanted was a repeat of their last time together. Seconds later, his hopes dissipated. As she leaned forward to plant a light kiss on the side of his mouth, the tips of her breasts brushed against Tom's chest. His member automatically began to twitch. Much to his embarrassment.
"Okay, that's it!" he roared and pushed her away. Laughter greeted his ears. "If you want to get laid so badly, find someone else." Tom marched to the door, opened it and heard voices in the corridor. He immediately slid the door shut.
Her voice, smooth and taunting, said, "I thought you were leaving."
"I will," Tom coolly replied. "Just as soon as the hallway is cleared."
A soft body pressed against his back. Tom struggled to ignore it. "In that case, why don't you stay here, a little longer? Pass the time, until the corridor is cleared."
"I doubt that mere seconds is enough time to do what you really want."
Slender hands gently forced Tom to turn around. He found himself staring into a pair of eyes that brimmed with desire. "Maybe you want what I want. Can't you stay longer than mere seconds?"
Tom blinked. He felt no love for this woman. Hell, he hardly felt any kind of affection toward her, whatsoever. Desire, however, was another matter. He had to admit that she was one of the most sexually satisfying women he had ever met. And unlike other partners, she demanded nothing more than sex. At least from him. Tom did not mind. Aside from his friendship with Harry, love and affection rarely played a part in Thomas Eugene Paris's life.
She planted a kiss on his mouth. And another. And another. "Just stay a little longer," she whispered between kisses. "Just a little . . ." Unable to ignore his desire any longer, Tom drew her into his arms and crushed his mouth against hers.
* * * *
The couple was inside the Jeffries tube, just as she had remembered. He lay stretched out on the floor. She straddled his waist. Neither wore a stitch of clothing.
She allowed her fingers to run through the red-gold hair on his chest. A pleasure-filled sigh escaped her mouth. So thick and luxuriant. She could do this all day. Then his member twitched against the crack of her backside. Then again, why bother? There were other parts of his anatomy she could also enjoy.
Sliding down his body, she raised her slightly and sat down, once more. His member impaled the wet folds of her flesh. A deep moan rose from her throat. His hands gripped her hips, forcing her to match the rhythm of his body.
Up and down, they moved. Faster and faster. She could feel him stab deeper and deeper inside her. One of his hands traveled up past her waist, until it cupped one tender breast. His thumb pressed against a taunt nipple and again, she moaned. Then it moved to another breast. Her moans grew louder.
Their bodies moved faster. His thrusts became harder. Deeper. Until his entire length filled her walls. Unable to hold back any longer, she climaxed and the muscles within her folds ruthlessly constricted his member. He called out her name and exploded inside her. As she finally fell over the edge, she threw back her head and called out his name. "Tom!"
* * * *
B'Elanna gasped out loud, as her eyes opened. Her body snapped into a sitting position. Had she just . . .? Once the fog cleared her brain, she realized that she was inside her quarters and not in a Jeffries tube. With Tom Paris. B'Elanna also realized that she had thrust her hand inside her pajama bottoms and they now rested on the damp mound between her legs. Embarrassed, she immediately withdrew it.
Then it came back to her. Every detail of her dream. It had been a replay of what she had witnessed inside Jeffries tube 69, this afternoon. Only, the woman having sex with Tom Paris had not been Mallory Aiwa, but her - B'Elanna Torres.
B'Elana's cheeks grew hot. Erotic dreams were not new to her. She had them before. Only, they had usually consisted of her with a young man she once worshipped from afar, back on Kessik. And later, of her and a certain Maquis captain, turned first officer. B'Elanna never thought she would have dreams about a womanizing pig like Paris.
Slowly, she crawled out of bed and headed for the wash basin. B'Elanna washed her hands and splashed water on her face. The chronometer in her cabin read 01:37 hours. Duty awaited her in less than seven hours. B'Elanna groaned. She hoped it would not be difficult for her to return to sleep.
A heavy thump dashed any hopes of continued sleep. The thump came from next door. A loud moan followed. B'Elanna sighed. The phantom couple had returned.
"Oh yes! Oh . . . oh . . . ah! Faster! Faster . . . oh gods! Fas . . . aaaah!" The cries and moans, accompanied by more thumps followed.
B'Elanna took a deep breath. She tried to ignore the sounds from next door. Yet, it seemed very difficult, especially with them becoming increasingly loud. And her growing more aroused.
At last the noise subsided, but not before the female next door shouted a name that took B'Elanna aback. "Oh yes! Oh . . . oh yes! Oh . . . aaah! Oh Gods! To-ooo-omm!"
Tom? B'Elanna sat on her bed in deep shock. Did she just hear some woman cry out Tom Paris's name?
* * * *
Harry stared at B'Elanna in disbelief. "Are you sure that was Tom's name you heard?" he demanded.
"Of course I'm sure!" B'Elanna snapped back. The two friends shared a small breakfast table, in the Mess Hall, the following morning. "How many Toms do you think are on this ship?"
"Tom happens to be a common name," Harry explained. "It could be someone else."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Starfleet, I checked the list of personnel on this ship. There is only one Tom aboard Voyager. And his name is Thomas Eugene Paris." She scoffed with derision. "Eugene. What were his parents thinking with a name like that?"
Eventually, Harry conceded that B'Elanna was right. "Okay, so it was Tom in that cabin, next door to yours. So what? Maybe whomever he's dating, lives there. What's her name? Crewman Aiwa."
"Crewman Aiwa's quarters are located on Deck Seven," B'Elanna coolly retorted. "I checked. And no one occupies the cabin next door to mine."
Harry paused. "Oh. Well, even so . . ."
Exasperated, B'Elanna cried out, "Dammit, Starfleet! Don't you get it? Paris and Aiwa weren't supposed to be there. I'm going to report this to Chakotay."
"Oh come on, Maquis! You've got to be kidding!"
B'Elanna gave her friend a pointed stare. "Do I look like I'm kidding? Paris has overstepped the line, this time."
"Overstepped the . . ." Harry heaved an exasperated sigh. "C'mon B'Elanna! Listen to yourself! You sound like some by-the-book Starfleet officer! Not even the Captain or myself are that bad!"
"Paris is using an empty . . ." B'Elanna lowered her voice, after she noticed several pairs of eyes, staring at her. "Paris is fraternizing in an unauthorized area. No one is supposed to be in that cabin. And both he and Aiwa are keeping me awake with all that noise. I intend to make sure that doesn't happen again."
Harry's face became hard. B'Elanna had never seen such an expression on his face, before. "I'm telling you, Maquis. You're making a big mistake. Granted, Tom might find himself in trouble. But sooner or later, word will circulate that you were the one who snitched on him."
"So what! Aside from you, Janeway and Kes, there isn't a soul on this ship who wouldn't like to see Paris get his comeuppance!"
"Perhaps," Harry replied. "But they'll also remember that you snitched on someone. Sooner or later, they'll become wary of you and eventually, you'll become ostracized on this ship. Like Tom."
B'Elanna opened her mouth to protest, but Harry seemed to be on a roll. "Tom may not be popular right now. But if word gets around that your reported him for having sex in some empty cabin, he'll be a hero in compare to you. No one likes a snitch, B'Elanna. Isn't that why the Maquis dislike him in the first place? Because you all believe he had ratted on you to the Captain?"
In one of those rare moments in her life, B'Elanna found herself speechless. She could not believe the words coming out of Harry's mouth. After several long seconds, her voice finally returned. "Tell me Harry, are you saying that you would tell Paris that I snitched on him?" B'Elanna tried to sound menacing, quiet. Unfortunately, wavering insecurity came out, instead.
"C'mon B'Elanna! I'm not a snitch!" Harry expressed outrage. "Besides, I wouldn't have to. Tom is a pretty smart guy. He would have found out, eventually. And knowing him, he would have found some way to get even." He leaned forward, his face radiating intensity. "Please, Maquis. Don't do it!"
B'Elanna, most reluctantly, realized that it would be wise to heed Harry's warning. She did not fear reprisal from Tom Paris. Yet, she had no desire to become an even bigger pariah on the ship. Her anger toward the pilot's sexual escapades, however, remained. A new obsession sprung within her. An obsession to discover the identity of Paris's paramour. Whom she suspected was Mallory Aiwa. And when she finally confirms Aiwa as Paris's partner-in-crime, B'Elanna promised herself that she would get even with both.
* * * *
Dark eyes seemed to follow Tom Paris nearly everywhere. They scrutinized him whenever "she" was on the Bridge, at her station. Those same eyes observed him in the Mess Hall, during breakfast, lunch and dinner. And whenever he appeared in Engineering to deliver a report or work on the navigational array, the dark eyes observed him . . . closely. Tom could also recall seeing those same eyes along Voyager's corridors, on occasion. After nearly two weeks of such scrutiny, Tom came to the conclusion that he was being stalked.
He had heard about Klingon women who stalked potential mates. Yet, the deep suspicion and dislike in B'Elanna Torres' eyes led Tom to believe that she did not view him as a potential mate. Which led him to speculate on her sudden interest in him.
"Quite frankly, I don't know what the hell is her problem," Tom complained to his best friend. The two officers sat inside the shuttlecraft, Cochrane, as it sped toward the Banean homeworld.
Voyager had came across the M-class planet two days ago. After learning that its inhabitants possessed warp technology and promised to help Voyager with its damaged collimator. Captain Janeway ordered Harry to work with one of the Banean scientists. And ordered Tom to fly Harry to the planet's surface. It seemed that Banea was at war with another race who occupied the planet, called the Numeri. Who had established a blockade around Banea.
Tom spared the younger man a quick glance. "Torres is your friend, Harry. Do you know why she's suddenly so interested in me?"
Harry sighed. Which told Tom that he knew something. And was reluctant to reveal. "What? C'mon Harry. Spill it."
"Okay." Another gust of breath followed. Then, "Tom, have you been seeing anyone on Deck Nine, lately? Other than Telac Mara?"
It took all of Tom's skills in dissembling to maintain his usual mask. How did Harry know about his trips to Deck Nine? Better yet, what did it have to do with Torres? "I don't know what you're talking about," Tom mumbled.
"Cabin Nine-I?" Harry continued. "It seems you've been using it for a little private down time with a certain someone, this past month. Only you haven't been that private."
Tom sighed in defeat. "Okay. I surrender. How did you find out?"
"I didn't. B'Elanna did. She could hear you two."
A hot flush crept up Tom's neck. "How did she . . .?"
Harry added, "B'Elanna's quarters are next door - Cabin Nine-H. She heard everything."
"Great!" Tom pursed his lips in irritation.
The younger man continued, "She knows it's you in there, but she doesn't know who your friend is."
"She isn't exactly a friend," Tom retorted.
Confusion filled Harry's dark eyes. "Huh? What are you talking . . .?"
"So B'Elanna knows," Tom said, interruptin