Breaking Ground, continued

Chapter 4

	Tom felt supremely pleased with himself.  He realized soon after
his conversation with the security officer that he had an effect on her.
He wondered how he hadn't recognized it sooner.  Leena Calloway desired
him.  Why else had she reacted so strongly towards him?  She
intentionally rebuffed him because she could feel a physical lust for
him within her, but she had made up her mind not to like him.  To
protect herself she pushed him away even harder than necessary.
	The next three days passed by awkwardly for Tom.  He found himself
thinking about Leena Calloway more frequently as the hours dissolved
like so much ice in a glass of warm water.  During the night his
thoughts would drift from his work, recalling various images of his co-
worker, perhaps a facial expression or a pose in a particular light.
Sometimes he had to remind himself not to stare at her while they
worked, for her womanly appearance could easily distract.  However,
while he slept during the day his subconscious better than compensated
for his restraint.  The situations were almost always the same in his
dreams: they would meet at some location on the ship - the security
office, the bridge, the mess hall, a corridor, his quarters - and begin
a discussion.  The conversation quickly evolved into an argument over
things that made no sense to him, but before long the heated exchanges
would be resolved with more libidinous confrontations.
	At 1800 the adventure began.  Tom rolled around in his bed for a
few minutes trying to rouse himself from yet another Calloway dream,
cruelly cut short by the alarm.  Still dozy, he got up and readied
himself for the evening.  The sonic shower helped wake him, clearing the
cobwebs from his head.  Then he remembered his room in it's state of
disarray, and grumbled to himself for putting off the chore until this
morning.  He should have cleaned the room last night and slept in until
1830 instead.  He could feel the first rumblings of his stomach begin,
but he couldn't eat for another hour yet.
	He picked up the last article of clothing off the floor just as
Neelix arrived with the evening fare.  The wonderful aromas emanating
from the cart immediately prompted Tom to salivate, and his stomach
growled noisily.  The smell of the food surprised him as much as when
the Talaxian had first come to him with the offer of preparing the
private meal.  Tom hadn't even planned to include Neelix in the affair,
but somehow the effusive alien had found out and insisted on supplying
his services.  At the moment Tom was grateful for the intrusion, but he
had to get himself a drink to quell the hunger.
	At approximately 1915 the guests started to arrive.  Harry showed
first. "Hi, Tom."
	"Harry, right on time.  You can help me set the table."
	The ensign looked around the neatly organized room.  "Wow.  I
don't think I've ever seen your place this clean before.  In fact, I
don't think I've ever seen your place clean, period."
	"Very funny.  Just shut up and help me with this, okay?"
	Harry grinned and joined his friend beside Neelix's dinner cart.
"The food smells good.  What are we eating tonight?"
	"Damned if I know," Tom replied with a wry smile.  "Neelix told me
it was a surprise, and I haven't the courage to look yet.  You're right,
though; it does smell pretty good."
	Harry lofted a stack of dishes from the cart, counting them in the
process.  "Just four of us?"
	"Yep.  Just you, me, B'Elanna and Leena.  I want to take this
'baring of the soul' slowly."
	Tom recalled the conversation they had about the dinner party a
couple of nights ago.  Both Harry and B'Elanna expressed surprise when
he confided his intentions.  To them it seemed like a huge risk to open
up so soon to a person he didn't know well, but at the time Tom assured
them he had the resolve to pursue it.  However, as the moment of truth
drew closer Tom seemed less sure of himself.
	Harry noticed the lack of confidence.  "I'm sure you'll do just
fine, Tom."  Just then the door announced the arrival of another guest.
	"Come on in."  The door whisked open to admit Lt. Torres.  "Hi,
B'Elanna.  Harry and I are just finishing up here.  Make yourself
comfortable."
	B'Elanna also made the obligatory rounds of Tom's abode before
sitting down in a soft chair.  "Hm, not bad.  The decor's nowhere near
as piggish as I expected, though."
	"You haven't seen the bedroom yet, Torres," Tom kidded, placing
the last utensil on the table.  The two men crossed the room to join her
in the den.  "Now, can I interest you two in a beverage?"

	They sat and waited in relative silence.  Their aimless chatter
about work and other things gradually dwindled to nothing as everyone
became conscious of the time.  Tom's stomach groaned loudly enough for
all to hear, demanding more sustenance than the guava-pineapple juice he
was drinking.  For the sixth time in ten minutes he checked the
chronometer.  It was now 1935.  "I did say nineteen-thirty, didn't I?"
he asked anxiously.
	"Tom, relax," B'Elanna instructed.  "She's probably being
fashionably late.  I'm sure she'll be here any minute now."
	"No, it's not like her to be late, not even by a minute.  She
sticks to her schedules as if they were doctrine."  She was making a
point, Tom realized, demonstrating her displeasure at being coerced into
this function.  It was a discouraging sign.
	"Let's give her ten more minutes," Harry advised.  "If she's not
here by 1945 we might as well eat.  There's no point in letting all that
food go to waste."
	The sombre atmosphere blanketed the room once more.  Tom knew he
shouldn't be so distraught over the situation; Leena only hurt her
reputation further by delaying.  He supposed he just didn't want a part
in inflicting that damage.  He would be the one responsible for
ostracizing her from the rest of the ship, and she would probably revile
him for all their remaining days.  Despite all his charm and savvy,
there would be no chance of reconciling their differences.  There would
be no absolution from her, just complete and utter hatred.
	Finally, at 1941, she arrived.  Naturally she wore her Starfleet
issue; no doubt she viewed the gathering as more of an occupational
hazard than a social function.  Tom noted her irony of setting the
proceedings back by eleven minutes, exactly the same amount of time he
had put her behind schedule on the night they had first worked together.
He'd let her pettiness pass, though.  There were more important matters
to consider.  "I'm glad you could make it, Lieutenant," he greeted.
"Please, come in.  The table's ready for dining."  He ushered her in
politely but swiftly.  "Can I get you a drink?"
	"Vulcan spice tea, if you don't mind, sir," she requested stiffly.
Her voice then took on a slightly harder edge, noticing the wine glasses
in Harry and B'Elanna's hands.  "I hope you yourself haven't been
consuming alcohol, sir.  Our shift begins at 2200; it would reflect
badly on your performance report if I knew you were inebriated while on
duty."
	B'Elanna raised an eyebrow at Harry.  "I wouldn't dream of doing
such a thing, Lieutenant," Tom replied, showing her a glass partially
filled with fruit juice.  He dispensed with making jokes; he'd save his
wit for a more appreciative audience.
	The guests seated themselves and Tom began serving the food.  It
was an impressive display, resembling a carved beef shoulder roast,
mashed potatoes with butter, asparagus tips and Caesar salad.  Neelix
obviously took great pains to make the Delta Quadrant dishes appear
native to the Alpha Quadrant.  The last of Tom's reservations
disappeared when he sampled the alien roast.  Thankfully, the flavour
equalled the favourable aroma.  He glanced furtively in Leena's
direction as she took her first bite, and noted the expression of
surprised pleasure on her face.  He made it a point to commend Neelix
for an outstanding job and tell him to save the recipe.
	The meal abounded with small talk, primarily directed at Lt.
Calloway.  While they had waited Tom had entreated B'Elanna and Harry to
engage her in friendly conversation, hopefully to draw her out and make
her feel more relaxed.  Unfortunately Leena failed to live up to her
end of the deal.  The security officer persisted in her stubbornness;
her answers were short and concise, never giving out more information
than was needed to answer the questions posed.  She barely strayed from
her rigidly professional demeanour, addressing Torres as 'Lieutenant'
and Harry as 'Mr. Kim'.  By the end of the meal the duo could
sympathize with Tom's infuriation after that first night.  She really
made it difficult to get close.
	Tom cleared away the dirty dishes and quickly checked the time.
Less than half an hour had elapsed.  *Boy, she doesn't mess around.*
"Well, now that we've had a chance to eat, let's get to the reason I
asked you all here.  As I'm sure you're all aware, the last few years of
my life have been pretty colourful, going back to the accident at Caldek
Prime that led to my dismissal from Starfleet.  I imagine most of the
stories you've heard have been pretty speculative, and we all know how
gossip grows in the retelling.  I have asked you all here tonight so I
can give you a personal account of what really occurred.  I want to
share with you a perspective no one else can provide.
	"You might not believe me, but everything I am about to tell you
is the truth.  I am not seeking sympathy from you; all I ask is that you
listen to what I have to say with an open mind."

	Tom tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his uniform as he
stepped off the transport shuttle to Caldek Prime.  However, it belied
the nervousness he presently felt for his first off-world station
assignment.  He had been promoted to full lieutenant just two weeks ago;
the catch of the new pip still poked annoyingly into his neck.  The
brass at the Starfleet Training Centre on Caldek Prime desired flight
officers with experience and skill to pass on their knowledge to other
up-and-coming pilots, and Tom Paris' name was near the top of the list,
thanks to his natural abilities and his father's influence.
	Taking his first few steps toward the command centre, he felt a
mild pang of regret.  He had thoroughly enjoyed his post aboard the
*U.S.S. Renegade* as the ship's Conn, fulfilling a life-long dream of
piloting a starship.  His expert skills in navigation had earned him
great respect from his fellow crewmates, as well as a quick rise through
the lower ranks.  However, the offer of being a Starfleet flight
instructor was too tempting to pass up.  Tom saw it as an opportunity to
further his career as an officer.  With any luck, the audacious and
spirited young man would make commander before the age of thirty, the
first in his family to achieve such a mark since his great-great-
grandfather James.  His father would be proud.
	Tom eased into his new role as flight instructor with little
difficulty.  He always loved to showcase his talents before an audience,
and he never had a problem interacting with other people.  His pupils
responded well to his informal style of teaching, in part because his
loquacity and sense of humour made him easily approachable.  The other
instructors proved to be his biggest obstacle at the start of his
assignment: his impetuous behaviour and ad hoc teaching style received
much criticism.  Only when they assessed the performance of his classes
did they seem to relax.  Tom didn't win many friends in the faculty, but
his impressive results saved his position at the Centre.

	"Excuse me, but are you going to get to the point of this meeting,
or are you going to continue babbling about your illustrious career?"
Torres interjected whimsically.  "I thought this was only supposed to
take a couple of hours."
	"It's called 'establishing the scene', B'Elanna," Tom said sourly.
"You've got a thing or two to learn about public speaking.  Then again,
I suppose your idea of public speaking is a Klingon shouting contest."
	The engineer scowled.  "If you'd like a first-hand demonstration
of what Klingon orations *really* involve, I'll be happy to oblige."
	Tom leered at her.  "Is that a promise, Lieutenant?"
	Torres growled, but said nothing.
	Leena sat back and quietly observed the pair with some interest.
She agreed with Lt. Torres; it felt like the man was speaking merely for
the pleasure of hearing his own voice.  She also noticed the difference
in personalities of Tom's friends.  The engineer, a half-Klingon Maquis
rebel, seemed not to appreciate the propriety of Starfleet.  Ensign Kim,
on the other hand, retired into a neutral corner, patient enough to wait
out the entire proceedings in silence before making his evaluations.  It
was a pity he had chosen to make friends with that windbag.  She might
have been interested in getting to know him better.
	"Now," Tom resumed, "if I may continue, I was just getting to the
event in question.  It happened about eight months after I was assigned
to the Centre.
	"The only other difficulty I encountered during my tenure was the
students, the women to be exact.  Naturally, being among the most
skilled pilots in the Caldek system, they found me irresistible."
	B'Elanna made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh.  "Oh,
please.  Do you really expect us to swallow that nonsense?"
	Tom ground his molars together.  "It's true.  I can't explain the
reasoning behind it, but women have been drawn to pilots ever since man
learned how to fly, especially those who pushed the limits of aviation.
Now if you don't mind, would you refrain from further comments until
after I'm done?  It'll go much quicker that way," he asked irritably.
	Torres grinned and nodded her consent.  Harry attempted to keep a
straight face, but a muscle in his cheek twitched, betraying his
amusement at the reversal of roles.
	Leena made a small coughing sound to suppress a giggle, catching
the attention of the room.  She battled to keep a straight face,
dismissing the stares with a wave of her hand.  "Sorry."  She then
looked down at her lap before her face could betray her.
	It was amusing, watching the two exchange fire.  It seemed as
though they did it on purpose, intentionally trying to get under each
other's nerves, and right now the Klingon had the advantage.
	Tom fired a stern look at the crowd.  "Okay.  Now where was I?"

	Meeting women was never much of a problem for Tom while he was
growing up.  His mother always remarked how much he resembled his father
at a similar age: boyishly handsome and self-confident.  'Yes, he'll be
a real lady-killer' his father would say.  When he discovered his
passion for flying the girls practically fell over each other vying for
his attention.  His father once explained that this was inherent in
human nature.  In ancient times women sought mates who displayed
strength, courage and fearlessness in the face of danger, because they
would make the best providers for their family.  Tom didn't really
understand what it meant at the time, but he didn't care: he had the
pick of the most attractive girls in high school!
	The situation played out much the same at Caldek's flight training
centre.  Because of his rakish good looks and superior navigational
skills, dozens of women sought his company, a good many of them students
in his lectures.  At times he had to work to keep his focus while
teaching, as some of his pupils were amazing female specimens.  If not
for his career goals he might have transgressed a few faculty
regulations.
	Halfway into his first year the situation changed.  Tom
encountered a young ensign like none other he'd ever met before.  Unlike
most of his acquaintances, Marnie Fuller transferred to the compound as
an assistant to one of xenobiology instructors.  From the moment they
were first introduced she mesmerized him with her beauty and
intelligence, but it surprised him when she didn't immediately fawn over
him.  Her reserve drew him like a magnet; he *had* to know more about
her.
	His opportunity came a few weeks later, literally by accident.
	One afternoon Tom stopped by the replimat for a quick lunch.  It
had taken him six weeks to program the replicator to prepare his tomato
soup correctly, but this time he wouldn't have the benefit of savouring
the hot creamy broth.  Before he could take four steps toward a table
Ensign Fuller walked right into him.  She had been too preoccupied with
a PADD to pay attention to where she was going, but as the soup
saturated her tunic she woke up to her surroundings.  She yelped as the
hot soup scalded her.
	Tom's first reaction was irritation for having his lunch ruined.
However, when he recognized who had bumped him his brain numbed.
	"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't see you," she apologized once she
recovered from the initial shock of being burned.
	Tom stood there for a moment, tongue-tied.  He hadn't planned to
meet her like this.  "Uh, ah, no, don't apologize.  I should have been
watching where I was going."  He offered her the napkin from his tray.
"Looks like I got you pretty good, huh?"
	She accepted the cloth sheepishly and dabbed ineffectually at the
huge stain.  "Oh, this is so embarrassing.  I have to go change my
uniform."
	Tom saw his chance slipping away.  "Wait.  I feel really terrible
about this.  Is there some way I can make up for my carelessness?"
	Ensign Fuller appeared taken aback by his repentance.  "What...uh,
look, Tom, that really isn't necessary."
	"Please, Marnie, I insist.  Let me take you out to dinner tonight.
It would make me feel better."
	She didn't quite know what to say, but her damp, sticky tunic was
getting cold now as well.  "Oh, all right.  Come by my quarters around
2000."
	"Thank you," Tom gushed.  "You don't know how much this means to
me."
	Ensign Fuller left the replimat quietly, a sagacious look finding
its way into her profile.  Tom went back to get another bowl of soup, a
smile plainly etched on his face.  Both thought the same, though: she
had walked right into that one.