Be Careful What You Wish For Read online

  Be Careful What You Wish For...

  by Barbara Watson ([email protected])

  Written January/March 2001

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  RATING: R for some mature and graphic situations.

  CODES: P/T, J/C, 7/D, 7&T, P&K, P&J

  SPOILERS: Serious Season 7 spoilers, especially "Drive," "Lineage," "Imperfection," and "Prophecy." (Plus spoilers for "Someone to Watch over Me," "Resolutions," "Extreme Risk," and lots of other pre-season 7 episodes.)

  SUMMARY: After nearly exhausting their resources, the crew is forced to decide whether or not to make a risky attempt to reach home. Starts approximately five months after "Lineage."

  NOTE: This story was started in the long holiday dry-spell between "Flesh and Blood" and "Shattered" as we waited for the new season seven episodes to continue. It's my take on how the series might have ended, and reflects canon up through "Human Error," then the powers that be and I part ways. It's L-O-N-G, but what could I do? I was possessed.

  DISCLAIMER: You would think the people who work for Paramount invented Star Trek! Ooops. They did. They own all things Voyager, including some of my favorite characters. I'm just dressing them up and playing "Barbies" with them. Michael Taylor wrote "Drive," which I quote occasionally throughout this opus; Voyager fans all know this and understand that I'm not taking credit for his work or that of any of the professional writing staff of the show. I own this story, however, and would like to be credited for it wherever it appears.

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  PART 1: PRIORITIES

  They were in the new Delta Flyer. He was kneeling on the jump seat facing her; she sat on the panel alongside. He ran his hand gently down her arm and leaned up to meet her eye to eye, so close she could feel his breath on her lips as he spoke. They had been discussing the relative merits of 'the mushy stuff,' and so far they had reached agreement on 'the kissy stuff' and the 'you're the most important person in the world to me' stuff. While she loved making up after a fight, this had been bigger than their standard-issue argument. This one was for keeps. And he wasn't done.

  "Then there's the 'happily ever after'..."

  "How does that one work?" she wondered.

  "Traditionally it requires a proposal..."

  B'Elanna had been smiling to herself as she slept, just before being jolted awake, as she always seemed to be at this point in the dream. It was a recurring one she had dreamed at least once a week for the last ten months. She always had the same reaction, too: to reach out her right hand and feel for the warm body lying next to her. If her hand felt the confirmation that this had been more than just the wishful thinking of her subconscious, she could usually drift back to sleep in a few seconds.

  Some nights, like tonight, her hand found only an empty space, and her mind would bring her to consciousness until she could remember why. 'He was there when I fell asleep,' she knew. Her sore muscles and lack of sleepwear were proof enough that she hadn't gone to bed alone. 'It's--what time is it--0520. Ugh. Think...It's Tuesday. Okay, he's in sickbay.' Only when her mind had found her husband could she relax and try to go back to sleep.

  Torres stretched and rolled onto her belly--or tried to before her momentum was blocked by the reminder of why that was a bad idea. Over seven months pregnant, there was only so far she could roll onto her stomach. Her hand reflexively stroked her child as she changed her strategy and rolled once more onto her back. Nope. She wouldn't be stretching out face down for a while. It didn't matter anymore. There was no getting around it; she was awake.

  She swung her feet to the floor and sat there for a moment before standing. She knew the Doctor wouldn't approve of her getting so little rest in her condition. But, since he was offline for at least another three days, it wasn't likely he would ever find out. Besides, the ship's chief medic, on duty in the doctor's place, wasn't around to tell on her. And his absence was the reason she couldn't sleep in the first place. Tom had sickbay duty every other morning now that the power rationing limited their access to the EMH. And, without Tom there when she drifted awake, B'Elanna found that she just couldn't relax enough to drift back out.

  All for the best, she thought. With Voyager in this condition, it was better if the chief engineer were awake and working. The last three months had been brutal. The most direct route to the Alpha Quadrant was taking them through a kind of dead zone. Not a void--thank goodness--there were stars and planets. But their scans had shown an unsettling lack of life in this area. No alien cultures, no space-faring species. While it was nice not to worry about being attacked by a hostile alien ship, they also found themselves without trading partners with whom they could barter for supplies. Scans of the habitable planets had also revealed a disappointing lack of edible plant life or valuable mineral deposits. All this after almost seven years without a thorough refit, on top of accumulated stresses and damage that would have kept three engineering teams busy for six months had they been anywhere but the Delta Quadrant. Voyager was aging prematurely. And the pregnant chief engineer had no choice but to be concerned about her first baby, her ship.

  Finally shaking off the last cobwebs of sleep, B'Elanna stood up and headed for the shower. Her day would be starting a little early.

  Torres wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping. Captain Janeway had been out of bed for almost thirty minutes before her chief engineer's dream had even begun. Sitting on her couch, staring out into the darkness and nursing a cup of coffee, she reflected on her crew's changing fortunes. It never seemed to fail that, as soon as life had settled into some semblance of normalcy on Voyager, the rug would be pulled out from under them. The delusion that her crew had only to point themselves in the direction of home and start flying was crumbling around them. This ship's technology had saved their lives hundreds of times over, yet it was never designed to go without a refit this long. Actually, it had been a testament to their good fortune that things had held together as well as they had. It was also a testament to her crew and the Herculean job they had done maintaining the ship under such difficult conditions.

  How long that crew could keep themselves going was another worry. While they had been putting up with replicator rations and leola root inspired cuisine for years now, it had only recently become necessary to start rationing their total energy use. The holodecks were off limits except for training and emergency simulations. No more resorts, no vacations, no fights with imaginary beasts to clear the mind and let the crew forget. Even the EMH had volunteered to deactivate himself unless he was needed. This added yet another strain, as she had to assign crew to cover the basic medical needs in his absence.

  The best and worst of times: Starfleet's monthly datastream kept them in touch with their goal of reaching home, but it couldn't help but remind them of how far away they were from achieving it. News from home added a kind of urgency to their quest. Parents could see evidence of their children's growth, and got letters full of stories of the milestones they couldn't share. Friends and families told tales of joy and pain, but to a crew that could be nothing more than third-party observers in the events of their lives. Births and deaths, graduations and marriages all continued without them there. With no quick way home, she wondered sometimes if it hadn't been easier to accept the potential length of their journey before the letters started arriving.

  Kathryn took the last swig of her coffee and set the empty cup on the table. While she longed for another, her rations allowed her only two cups a day, and she needed to spread them out to keep herself going. 'Must set an example for the crew,' she thought. She pushed herself to stand, stretched, and hea
ded for the shower.

  She stepped onto her bridge a full two hours before the start of the alpha shift, startling Harry enough that he almost jumped out of her chair. "As you were, Mr. Kim," she said gently. "I'll be in my ready room."

  "Aye, Captain. Good morning." She smiled back at him before she stepped down and through the doors to her office. Harry eased back into the chair, secretly happy that she wasn't coming to claim it early. He enjoyed the command experience he was getting on these occasional gamma shift assignments. It was no secret to his friends or to his captain that he wanted to be sitting in the "big chair" one day. The last few months had taught him some important lessons about how much he still needed to learn, however. Lessons that had stuck with him. He'd be ready when the time came.

  His daydreams were interrupted again, a few moments later when the first officer stepped out of the turbolift. Harry stood to yield the bridge, but Chakotay waived him back down. "Relax, Harry. I'm not here to relieve you." The commander moved to the captain's ready room door and signaled. It swished open seconds later, and he stepped inside.

  Harry settled back into his seat, glancing only briefly at the ensign now looking up at him from the con. "As you were," he said, smiling to himself. He could get used to this.

  Chakotay greeted the sleepy woman at the desk in front of him. One cup of coffee was clearly not enough, he noted to himself, but he respected her sacrifice and the desire to set an example that inspired it. "Good morning, Captain," he smiled at her. "Sleep well?" That it was 0558 and they were both on duty was answer enough to that question.

  "Very funny," she joked back at him, smiling. "Someone else I see looks less than 'bright-eyed and bushy-tailed' this morning."

  He grinned. "You know," he offered, "I'd lend you some of my rations if I thought one more cup would make a difference."

  She was smiling broadly at him now. "Not a dent, and you know it." They held each other's glance for a moment, enjoying as they always did their morning banter. It felt like several minutes before she noticed the PADD in his hand and asked, "Did you find something?"

  Chakotay sat in his customary chair across from her and leaned forward. "Nothing too exciting. Scans indicate that there are a few Class M planets on the far reaches of our sensors, but lifesigns have been inconclusive at best."

  The captain sighed at the all-too-familiar news. "Let me guess: no signs of warp signatures, no mineral deposits, and no food." His eyes darted down before coming back to meet hers.

  "A few pre-warp civilizations, but the Prime Directive precludes us from making first contact." He was talking to the Queen of the Prime Directive, he knew, at least in her heart. Funny how even Kathryn Janeway had found reasons to rationalize bending General Order One on some occasions. He knew this wasn't going to be one of them.

  "What's our status, Commander?" she asked. "How long can we go before this becomes critical?"

  Her first officer punched the display on his PADD and read out the report. "With energy rationing in place, we have reduced dependency on the replicators by fifty-six percent. Food stores should hold up for at least another ten weeks, but airponics isn't able to keep ahead of our needs. We'll need to find mature, edible plant life within the next six weeks to maintain any sort of safety margin. Power reserves are equally critical. We've got to find some raw deuterium and dilithium within the next eight weeks if we're going to refine it ourselves before our reserves are drained. If there were a source of refined minerals, we could last another twelve weeks, but nothing we've seen indicates any civilizations with that kind of technology in this region." He was quiet for a moment and let her absorb it all. It was crunch time and they both knew it.

  "I can't believe we have made it this far only to be stopped by supply shortages. We've never gone this long without encountering some kind of opportunity to replenish our stocks. There has to be something we haven't considered." She moved to the couch by the window. Staring out at the stars always seemed to free her mind for the next burst of inspiration. One had never failed to come. Almost never. Chakotay moved to stand near her, wondering if she would come to the realization on her own. It was clear when she spoke again that the thought hadn't entered her mind. Or if it had, she wouldn't give it voice.

  "Send Harry and Tom out in the Flyer. Have Tom plot a route that covers the most territory in the shortest time--and ask Neelix to go with them. Have them scout for anything they think we might be able to make use of. We've got a creative bunch here--an idea has got to come." She shifted slightly as the next thought came, "And divert some of the power reserves to Astrometrics. Maybe Seven can help point us in the most productive direction. The captain glanced back at her first officer, and could tell from the look on his face that he was going to make a suggestion she wouldn't like. "What is it?"

  "I'd like to recommend that you add something to their checklist." Here it came. "I think they should make an evaluation of possible sites for colonization in case we run out of ways to keep the ship functioning."

  She was going to surprise him, she knew. "Fine." He straightened as she continued. "You're right. We're running out of alternatives. We have to be prepared for all contingencies." She cut him off as he started to reply, "But you should know that I consider that option a worst-case scenario, and I have no expectation of settling down anywhere but Bloomington, Indiana. Do I make myself clear?"

  She wasn't scolding him; her smile would have told him if he didn't already know. She was just reviving one of their favorite games, arguing over when or if they might ever have to concede the trip home. "Understood," he said smiling back at her. "I'll make the arrangements right away." He excused himself and left for his office.

  She stared for a moment at the door after it closed behind him. For the first time in almost seven years, she had to consider the possibility that they were coming to the end of their journey.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Tom was half way through the pre-flight checklist and Harry still hadn't joined him on the Delta Flyer. Tom knew his best friend had worked the gamma shift last night, which meant Harry had no chance to sleep before they were to leave on this mission. Normally, Tom would have wanted his copilot at his sharpest when riding shotgun for him, but there were no signs of hostile aliens in this neck of the woods, and he was sure he could cover any lapses Harry's tired mind might make.

  Not that Tom was feeling that well rested. He went on duty in sickbay at 0500 trying to catch up on reports the Doc would normally have filed, and he had been due on the bridge at 0800. Stupidly, he hadn't gone to bed early considering the day he had ahead of him. Well, he had gone to bed early, but B'Elanna's back was killing her and she asked Tom to massage it for her. There was no way, after ten minutes of skin-to-skin contact with her body that he was going to be able to calm down enough to go right to sleep. His checklist was routine enough that he could let his mind review their late-night gymnastics as he worked. He laughed to himself that B'Elanna wondered how he could still find her so attractive with her distended belly, swollen ankles, and a chronic backache. His joke, reminding her of some of the more appealing changes to a pregnant woman's body, fell flat, as he would have expected. But his desire was sincere nonetheless, and she knew it. She really did seem especially beautiful to him in her condition, even if she didn't feel it herself. He must have been smiling at the thought, when Harry finally showed up.

  "Wipe that smirk off your face, Paris, I'm in no mood to spend the day with a cheerful pilot." Well, if that wasn't throwing down the gauntlet.

  "Really, Harry? I thought you got all pumped up by the thrill of command," Tom kidded. "Don't tell me you're feeling the burden instead?"

  Harry was happy to play along, despite the annoyed tone in his voice. "I'm feeling the burden of sleep-deprivation, and you know it. Some of us lose sleep for less enjoyable reasons than others, you know." Caught. Tom knew too well the sorry state of Harry's love life, and conceded this battle, happily.

  "I'm almost through the checklist," Tom c
hanged the subject, but continued to smirk. "Did Chakotay brief you?"

  "Yeah," Harry answered, his brow beginning to furrow. "What do you make of this 'scout for colonization sites' plan? The captain isn't seriously considering setting down some place, is she?"

  Tom took a deep breath before he answered. He knew Harry wouldn't want to hear what he was going to say next. "If she's smart, she is. Look Harry, we've been through the briefings--if we don't find some mineral deposits and some food soon, we're going to have to think about stopping while we still can. That or risk running adrift too far from any reasonable camp site." Tom couldn't stop himself from saying what he was thinking. They knew each other too well for that kind of pretense. "Frankly, it wouldn't bug me all that much."

  "Well, it would bug the hell out of me!" Harry retorted. "I have never planned to spend the rest of my life stuck here in the middle of nowhere with no chance of getting home. I'm for continuing no matter what."

  Yep, Tom thought, they really were going to fight about this. "Well," Paris said more harshly than he meant it, "I'm glad it's not up to you, then."

  "You can't tell me that you don't care if we never get back to Earth," Harry interjected. "You don't care if you never see your family again?"