Promises, Promises by Darrel W. Beach Mar. 1999 Chapter 7 Tom's short yet flamboyant life flashed before his eyes. He was certain that it would be coming to an end very soon. "This is not what it looks like," he immediately stammered, turning around. He pulled his hand free and wiped it off on his shorts under the obscurity of the bed sheet. "Just let me...explain." *Oh, shit.* Harry was hyperventilating in the doorway behind B'Elanna, who herself was quivering with barely contained rage. This was bad, very bad. "S-Seven? What...what are you...doing?" the ensign in a strangled voice. Seven's composure returned as quickly as her breath. "I was receiving instruction on sexual confrontation from Lieutenant Paris. That was a most educating experience, Lieutenant. May I get up now?" Tom screwed his eyes shut in pain, ready to accept death now. She couldn't have said anything more inappropriate than that. "You...you bastard! I'll kill you!" B'Elanna lunged for his throat, shrieking a Klingon death cry. Tom's eyes snapped open at the sound. He barely ducked underneath the pair of rapidly approaching hands in time and rolled his way off the bed. "I can explain! I can explain!" "So this is flying shuttles with Ensign Taylor, is it? When I get my hands on you, you'll never lift off again!" Tom yelped and dodged another attack. "Please, B'Elanna, calm down!" "Why should I calm down? You stood me up to boff a *Borg*!" "I didn't, I swear!" Tom made a dash for the door, sprinting past a paralytic Harry Kim. "Seven, tell them!" "Come back here and take your death like a man!" growled the irate engineer as she chased him into the lounge area. "Boff? I am not familiar with that word." Seven arched an eyebrow quizzically at the proceedings. This was quite an unexpected and chaotic turn of events. It was times like these that she reconsidered the value of individuality. Now that the argument between Lieutenants Paris and Torres had moved to a new venue, she extricated herself from her horizontal alignment and retrieved her suit from off the floor. Re-clothing herself, she started for the door but stopped when she saw Ensign Kim blanch. Lieutenant Paris had asked that she speak to both Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Kim concerning the nature of their rendezvous, but Ensign Kim looked to require dire medical attention. His explanation could wait for a more convenient time. "Ensign Kim, you do not look well. I would recommend you pay a visit to the Doctor, he is quite proficient in treating physical ailments." Harry stumbled backwards, somewhat startled by the direct address. "I...I've got to get out of here," he muttered weakly. He back-pedalled halfway across the room before turning on his heel and bolting out of Tom's quarters. Satisfied that he had taken her advice, Seven resumed to complete her other task. Lieutenant Torres had Mr. Paris pinned to the floor in what looked like a quite uncomfortable position. He had a fresh contusion on one side of his face and his nose had apparently been broken. He was presently being subjected to a formidable chokehold. Lieutenant Torres was either attempting to decapitate him or to sever his spine at the base of his lower vertebra. "Hrrgk...Seven...aagh...help me," he strangled out, helplessly trying to pry his head free of the engineer's grasp. "Stay out of this, *Borg*, if you know what's good for you," B'Elanna grunted. "I am afraid I must intervene, Lieutenant. Given *Voyager*'s present circumstances, killing Lieutenant Paris would be an inappropriate course of action. Our limited manpower makes him an indispensable member of the crew." B'Elanna slammed Tom's head into the deck plate, much to his agony, and stood up. She took two steps toward Seven and glared menacingly. "Have you got a hearing problem? I said stay out of this." "My auditory systems are functioning perfectly, Lieutenant. I must point out, though, that you yourself are guilty of a misperception of data." "Oh, really? So I didn't just catch him screwing you?" A look of mild frustration crossed Seven's brow. "Your use of human vernacular is most perplexing, Lieutenant. Does 'screwing' have a similar contextual meaning as that of 'boffing'?" "They're both slang terms, Seven," Tom grunted from the floor, gingerly protecting his broken nose with one hand. "They both refer to having sex." "Ah. Thank you, Lieutenant. In that case, Lieutenant Torres was not entirely incorrect in her assessment." "*What*?" "Lieutenant, you yourself indicated that foreplay was considered a vital part of copulation." Seven heard the beginnings of an angry growl and suddenly found her line of sight shifted to the ceiling of Lieutenant Paris' quarters. She experienced an undiluted moment of human expression for the first time since childhood: Lieutenant Torres' forceful tackle had surprised her. Her body impacted with the floor with a dull thud, forcing a grimace of pain to surface on her normally stoic visage. Quickly recovering, though, Seven grappled the lieutenant's arms and proceeded to engage in a lengthy wrestling match across the cabin floor. Lieutenant Paris did as best he could to scramble out of the way to avoid further injury. "This assault is unnecessary, Lieutenant," she grunted, counterbalancing each change of weight and momentum in B'Elanna's attack. "The hell it isn't. I catch you having sex with Tom and you think it's unnecessary that I beat you to a bloody pulp?" Seven concluded that, irrelevant or not, it wasn't a very good idea to interfere in the personal affairs of even a half-blooded Klingon. Apparently Lieutenant Torres' possessiveness extended to more than just the engine room. "If you feel threatened by the prospect of me attempting a personal relationship with Lieutenant Paris, do not. I do not possess those feelings for him. My decision to engage in physical intercourse with the lieutenant was in large part influenced by pragmatics." Lieutenant Torres snarled and immediately redoubled her efforts to place her hands around Seven's neck, but her advance was again effectively stalled. Realising that she wouldn't succeed in strangling her opponent, the lieutenant instead pushed herself off Seven in disgust. The aggression ceased almost as quickly as it had begun. "Ugh, forget it. You're not worth it. But *you*," she said, whipping around to face Lieutenant Paris, "how could you even *think* of doing this?" His eyes pleaded for forgiveness as he nursed his wounds from the relative safety of an armchair. Seven picked herself up off the floor and observed the exchange with detached interest, as if nothing unusual had just taken place. "I didn't have a choice, B'Elanna; she made me do it!" "Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Tom," she snapped. "You've been dying to get her in the sack for weeks. Don't think I haven't noticed how your eyes wander every time she walks into a room." "Okay, so she's attractive, I admit it. That doesn't mean I want to have sex with her!" "Then did I imagine what I just saw? It sure looked like you were having sex to me!" Seven thought it both peculiar and fascinating that they were discussing her as if she were no longer present in the room with them. "Please, you've got to believe me, I didn't! You know you're the only one for me, B'Elanna." "You --" B'Elanna abruptly stopped her tirade, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Never mind, forget it. Forget the whole thing. I hope you enjoy your little fling with the Borg Queen, you pig, because as far as I'm concerned, we're through." She stormed out of the room. A stunned Lieutenant Paris watched her leave, his mouth open in silent protest until the doors closed behind her. With a weak sigh he carefully collapsed into the chair. "Gee, that went well," he muttered sarcastically. "I believe a trip to Sickbay would be in order, Lieutenant," Seven suggested. She was still confused over Lieutenant Torres' last remark. She resembled nothing like the Borg Queen. How could the lieutenant make an error like that? * * * "My, Mr. Paris, it certainly looks like you've had an interesting day," the Doctor satirically observed as Seven escorted Tom through the doors of Sickbay. "Care to explain what happened?" "B'Elanna and I had a bit of a disagreement," Tom generically replied. "Hm, another lover's quarrel, eh? So what did you do this time, Lieutenant?" Tom glared at the hologram. "Nothing you need to be concerned about, Doctor." The Doctor glared right back. "Well, no need to be rude, Lieutenant." He completed his triage. "Let's see...you have a broken nose, multiple contusions, torn ligaments in the neck, shoulders and abdominal regions, and a stress fracture of the fifth rib. That must have been quite a disagreement. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you, Seven?" Seven gauged the stern glance from the lieutenant and thought better of being completely forthright. "I am not in a position to comment, Doctor." "Oh. Well, Mr. Paris, the good news is that I can treat your injuries and have you out of here within the hour. I would recommend that you avoid strenuous activity for a few days, however, to allow them to heal properly." "Not a problem, Doc." "Since you no longer require my assistance, Lieutenant, I will take my leave. I still must speak to Ensign Kim." Seven made a motion to leave, but Tom stopped her. "Hold on a minute, Seven. Doctor, would you mind giving us a few minutes in private?" The Doctor sighed insufferably. "Very well. When you finally decide you can live without the pain, Lieutenant, give me a call." Tom watched him depart into the CMO's office and waited for the Doctor to busy himself before addressing Seven. "You're going to talk to Harry about what just happened, aren't you?" "That is what you requested." "Seven, not to criticise here, but I think you should try another approach to explaining what happened." Seven regarded Lieutenant Torres' poor reaction earlier. "I believe you are correct. I assume you have a suggestion?" "Yes, I do. Seven, if this mess is ever going to be cleaned up you're going to have to tell them everything. Your recent problem, that promise I made, the holodeck, everything that happened. Coming from you they're more likely to accept the truth." "I must confess, I did not expect Lieutenant Torres to be so unwilling to view that incident objectively. There is still much to learn about the inconsistent behaviours associated with individuality. I will proceed with your strategy." "Thanks, Seven. Oh, and it might be better to wait until tomorrow to talk to B'Elanna. If I know her, she won't exactly be interested in talking to either one of right now." "I would incline to agree, Lieutenant. Your advice will be most helpful." Harry stared blankly at the music score in front of him. Practising the clarinet usually helped him relax and think out his personal problems, but today he just couldn't concentrate. He couldn't shake the unsettling image of Seven in Tom's bedroom, acting as if nothing unusual had occurred. It forced him to recall when she had propositioned him in the mess hall. It had been an unfortunate case of Seven doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, although it was his own fault for trying to sway her into a romantic relationship. She had connected the precondition with the goal without giving thought to the steps that went in between. He realised then how foolish it was to let his emotions run rampant like that. Seven was still learning how to interact with people as an individual, with no clear sense of what was appropriate behaviour. As humiliating an experience it was for him, he had helped her define one of those limits. Harry shook his head. If that was true, why had she climbed into bed with Tom? He didn't think Seven would make that mistake again. She had been familiarising herself with the ship and the people on board, and vice versa. Both she and Tom would have known the kind of person they'd be dealing with. So, if it hadn't been an accident or misunderstanding.... The conclusion made him physically ill. What could possibly motivate Seven to instigate such an experiment, and with Tom? She had to know of his relationship with B'Elanna. And what would possess Tom to accept her proposal? Didn't he care about B'Elanna at all? Harry knew that the lieutenant had a cavalier attitude toward life, but he thought Tom was a better person than that. Did he like the idea of having sex with no strings attached and couldn't resist taking advantage of Seven's opportunity? Harry set down his clarinet before he broke it in half. Seven arrived at his quarters at approximately that time and announced her presence. Harry glowered at the doorway, oblivious to the identity behind it. He wasn't in much of a mood to entertain a visitor. "Whoever you are, this had better be good," he muttered. When Seven appeared in the door frame he jumped from anger to apprehension. His memory of her nudity was still too recent. "Seven! I, uh...I didn't know it was you." Seven took a step inside, and Harry reflexively moved back. "We must talk, Ensign." His eyes skittered across the room, trying to look for an escape. None were forthcoming. "T-talk? What about?" "Your apparent discomfort would suggest you already know what it is I wish to discuss." Harry's eyes grew wider. "Um, I'm not sure if that's...uh, if that's a good idea...." "I assure you, Ensign, my objective here is to eliminate your discomfort, not contribute to it. If you would feel more at ease, we could sit down." "Um...." Harry wasn't sure what to make of this. He doubted that Seven would ordinarily volunteer to sit for the sake of someone else's comfort. However, the circumstances were far from ordinary, and he couldn't help but wonder what sort of explanation she had planned. "Okay, I guess." "Your open-mindedness is most satisfactory, Ensign." Seven allowed him to show her to the sofa. She poised herself rigidly on the edge of the cushion and ignored how much she disliked her posture. "Earlier this evening you walked in on me and Lieutenant Paris performing acts of a sexual nature." Harry blushed and fidgeted. "Yeah, I'm really sorry about that. It's just that B'Elanna was upset about Tom lying to her about Ensign Taylor, and, well, there's no stopping her once she's set her mind on something...." "Apologies are irrelevant, Ensign, although it is clearly against regulations to enter a crewman's quarters without proper authorisation. That is another matter, however. Lieutenant Paris and I were not engaged in sexual intercourse." "You weren't," he echoed hesitantly. "No. Although I did reach climax, it was not achieved through explicit copulation. The lieutenant utilised a technique referred to as 'foreplay'." That was extravagantly more information than what Harry wanted to hear. He would have actually preferred that the whole evening be erased from his memory. The knot in his throat twisted even tighter as he wrestled with the crumbling reality that his best friend had betrayed him. "Why...why? I can't believe Tom would do this." "He would not," Seven answered plainly. "I had to enforce his participation." "Wh-what?" Harry reeled from the impact of her statement. She initiated it? "Seven, what the hell is going on?" "On stardate 51075.8 Lieutenant Paris volunteered to help me adapt to life on *Voyager* in any way possible. Two days ago I began experiencing a change in my biochemistry, specifically linked to the production of hormones. The behavioural side effects resulting from that change were unexpected and unpredictable, prompting me to seek out the Doctor's advice. The Doctor informed me that my condition would correct itself on its own. However, I was not content to wait an undetermined amount to time. I did not know how extreme my condition would become. Given Lieutenant Paris' reputation of experience in the sphere of sexual relationships I concluded that he would be the person most qualified to guide me through this situation, and his promise to assist me provided the assurance of his co-operation." Harry shook his head. "And Tom went along with it?" "Lieutenant Paris was initially quite hesitant to accede to my request. He was slow to accept the ubiquity of his oath. We eventually reached a compromise in which the lieutenant would supply instruction on casual interpersonal communication on the holodeck. While it did prove informative in some respects, it did not address my difficulties adequately. The remainder of the events that occurred you already know." Harry didn't hide his disappointment as Seven's story unfolded. He couldn't help thinking that he had eliminated himself from contention two months ago in the mess hall. Admittedly, Seven had scared the hell out of him back then. She still intimidated him, really. She was overwhelmingly smart, attractive and confident. She also had eidetic memory. What happened then certainly would have coloured her decision now. He didn't know if he would have had the nerve to follow through if she had asked him, but he felt slighted that she probably hadn't even considered asking him. "I see. Well, I hope you're feeling better now." "For the moment my hormonal levels appear to have stabilised. Thank you for your concern. I hope I have cleared up any misunderstandings you may have had." "Oh, yeah...yeah, no problem." "Very well." Seven was relieved to stand up again. "I will let you return to your evening activities." "Uh, thanks." He saw Seven out and crumpled back into the couch. He had a lot of serious thinking to do.