Story Warning: explicit sexual content

“Mr. Paris, put her down now!”

It was probably the most sensible instruction he’d received since the shooting had started. Tom immediately began scanning for a location to land the shuttlecraft. Once again, he wished he had something faster.

“What’s the hold-up, Tom?”

He didn’t turn to face his questioner. “Wouldn’t make much sense to land in the middle of one of these folks’ outposts. Don’t worry, soon as I find somewhere to hide —”

Kathryn Janeway spun her chair around to access the console next to him. “Good thinking. Keep us clear of their weapons while I scan.”

“What about our weapons?”

“Gone. And we’re losing shields — here. Change your heading to one-eighteen mark eighty-five. There’s something in that asteroid —”

He put the shuttle into the deepest dive it could manage. Servos whined. “Big enough for this shuttlecraft?”

“It’ll have to be.” Despite the grimness of their situation, a fierce smile appeared on her face. “Unless you don’t think your piloting skills are up to it.”

“After being shot at for three hours? Best offer I’ve had all day.”

That actually brought a short laugh from his captain, but a tense silence settled in the cabin as Tom skimmed the small craft over the surface of the asteroid and into a small cave. There wasn’t enough room to turn it around; he’d have to back it out when they left. But they were out of sight and — hopefully — out of mind.

Tom killed the last of the maneuvering thrusters and cut power to minimum in order to hide their presence from sensor scans. The cabin lights dimmed as a result, casting them into shadows that made the consoles seem brighter than they really were.

Kathryn leaned back and momentarily closed her eyes, letting her breath out in a long sigh. “How long until Voyager gets back in-system?”

He checked a chrono. “Eighteen hours.”

“What’s our status?”

“Weapons are depleted. Shields at —” he peered into a monitor. “Forty-seven percent. Life support is online but I’ve dropped it into grey mode. We’ve still got impulse and thrusters, but that last hit knocked out the warp drive.” He let out a sigh. “We’re hurt, but it’s nothing that can’t be repaired.”

She was back on her feet and opening a repair kit. “That’s good, but we can’t just sit around and hide for eighteen hours. What happened to the warp drive?”

“One of the dilithium crystals is cracked.”

That couldn’t be fixed until they got back to Voyager. She slammed the repair kit shut with more than the necessary force. “Damn.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“So what are the chances that the Renerons will find us before Voyager gets back?”

“I’m not Tuvok,” he drawled, beginning to shake as the adrenaline drained from his system. “But I’d say the possibility’s not terribly high. They’re likely too busy worrying about the Cepellian Guard instead of us. Don’t we have an agreement with them, anyway?”

“Theoretically.” She pulled a piece of plating from the wall, exposing the circuitry underneath, and he realized she was working off the same post-battle nerves he had. “But as paranoid as they are, I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided we’ve been working with the Cepellians all along.”

“How reassuring.” He got up to get a closer look. “What are you doing?”

“We may be sitting ducks, but we don’t have to be defenseless. Hand me that plasma torch and I’ll get started on the shield generators. See what you can do about the weapons systems.”

There was no warning, no chance to brace themselves. One minute, Tom was straightening up, stretching his back after an hour spent over an EPS relay. The next, he was thrown violently against the side of the shuttle, a loud boom reverberating through his skull.

“What was that?” yelled Kathryn from the back.

He slid into the pilot’s chair, switching a single console to active but leaving the rest of the sensors offline. “Percussive flare, about three kilometers away. By its signature, it’s Cepellian.”

She appeared between the seats, holding the backs for support. “Great. Have they found us?”

“I can’t tell. They could just be dropping flares to see what they find.”

“What’s our sensor status?”

He indicated the console. “I’ve been keeping us in grey mode to minimize our energy signature. Most of them are off-line, but there’s nothing wrong with them. Should I restore them?”

Kathryn dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, and Tom noticed a nasty-looking bruise on her forehead. “Not yet. Let’s see if they get closer.”

More tense minutes passed, and he could feel his heart thumping. The shuttlecraft was rocked by flares at least six more times, but according to the single sensor he’d risked bringing up, none of them were any closer than a kilometer.

After a while, Kathryn stirred restlessly. “Ten minutes. That’s the longest interval yet.”

“You think they might have given up?”

“Either that, or something else has their attention.” She slid to the front of the seat but didn’t stand up. “I hate hiding and waiting. Hours of boredom mixed with seconds of terror, and never knowing what’s going on. How long since we put down here?”

He had to check the chrono twice to make sure it was right. “Only two hours.”

“Plenty of time to get back to those repairs, then. I want a cup of coffee before getting back to them. Want one too?”

“Thanks, that would be —” he cut off as she fell between the seats, grimacing. “Captain?”

“I’m all right. Just tripped.”

He offered a hand. “There’s nothing on the deck. What did you trip on?”

“I don’t know.” She pulled herself back up, stepped onto her right leg, and gasped in pain again. This time, he was able to catch her. Her face had gone white.

“You didn’t trip. You’re hurt.”

She blinked several times, her color slowly returning. “I turned my ankle when we were thrown around, but nothing worse than that.”

“Maybe I should take a look at it.”

“It’ll be fine.” But her leg buckled again as soon as he released her.

He stared her back down into the seat and reached for a medical tricorder. “It’s sprained. Pretty badly, too.”

“Is there an osteogenic regenerator in the first-aid kit?”

“'fraid not,” answered Tom, pulling out a cloth bandage instead. “I guess it’s back to the old-fashioned way until Voyager can get back.”

She sighed. “I’ll have to wait after all.”

Tom eased the boot and sock off to reveal swelling and skin that had already turned an ugly purple-black color. He quickly wrapped the bandage around her ankle and then used the ends to secure a cold pack directly over the injury. Though he tried to be gentle, she had still gone gasping and pale again by the time he finished.

He quickly programmed a hypo with pain reliever. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said. “It’s all right. You’re actually very good with your hands.”

“Comes from flying,” he answered. “Most ships are like women; if touch them the right way, they respond better than if you try to fight for every little bit of —” he broke off, realizing what he had been about to say, and felt himself blushing clear to the hairline. At least it wouldn’t be super obvious in the low light. “I’m sorry. Pilot talk. But that was out of line.”

But she was chuckling. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Another pilot?”

“Actually, when I met him, he was an engineering liaison,” she replied. “But he loved to fly as much as you do. He’d grown up on a rough colony and wasn’t used to all the social niceties, so it took me a while to get used to him.”

“I take it you did, though.” He was intrigued.

She smiled, clearly remembering something. “Oh, yes.”

“Where is he now?”

“He died flying.” She abruptly shook her head, shifting in place. “Were you rebuilding that relay? I can finish that without needing to be on my feet. I guess you’ll have to get us the coffee.”

Four hours later, all the repairs they could do had been done. The Cepellians hadn’t returned to the area, and there’d been no sign of the Renerons. Tom was drowsing in the pilot’s chair, wanting to keep an eye on the sensors but knowing he needed to get some rest.

The captain, to his surprise, had limped to one of the benches and rolled her jacket up to make a pillow. He’d been concerned at first — it wasn’t like her to rest without being forced — but a quiet re-scan with the tricorder showed no signs of concussion. Maybe the pain medication was making her sleepy.

He wondered who that other pilot had been. Judging from the look on her face, there’d been plenty more to that story, but she’d kept her conversation more focused than usual after thanking him for the coffee. He hadn’t felt comfortable bringing the topic back up.

Nor was he comfortable with the fact that he’d noticed that the captain definitely had a woman’s figure under the jacket, and a nice one at that. You weren’t supposed to pay attention to things like that at times like these. Or if the woman in question was your captain.

Tom yawned hugely and sat up straight, trying to clear his head. Trying to find a focus for his attention, he started a sensor diagnostic. Since the diagnostic took even passive sensors down momentarily, he focused his eyes on the view screen. But the first blast caught him by surprise anyway, knocking him all the way out of the chair.

Kathryn had somehow managed to maintain her perch. She was sitting up, startled and wide-eyed, calling a name he didn’t recognize. Fighting to maintain his balance, he started making his way to the back of the shuttlecraft. “Captain? Are you all right?”

She didn’t give any indication she knew he was there. “No. No, don’t! We’ll go down!”

Tom managed to get to the bench and crawled up on the end. “Captain, it’s just the Cepellians. They’re trawling again.”

“We’re hitting atmosphere!” she yelled. Her jacket had slid to the floor. “Justin. Daddy!”

Retrieving the jacket, he opened it to wrap it around her shoulders. “Captain!”

At that, she seemed to snap out of whatever nightmare she’d been having. She turned toward him. “What —”

Another blast shook the shuttlecraft, sending them both tumbling. Tom rolled his body over hers, crossing his ankles behind her sprain in an effort to protect it and keep her from accidentally banging it against something hard. He ended up on the floor underneath the other bench, her arms and legs tangled with his. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, though he could see tears of pain in her eyes. “The Cepellians?”

“I think so. I don’t know. They hit right when the sensors went off-line during the diagnostic.”

“You were running a diagnostic? At a time like this?”

“Trying to stay awake.” He pushed her away, intending to stand up, but another blast tossed them against each other again. She clung to him for a brief moment, and one of his arms wrapped itself around her waist while the other went up behind her head, steadying her against his shoulders.

It felt good. Damn good. Every nerve in his body had suddenly gone on alert and he was hyper-aware of her lips briefly making contact with his neck even as his own brushed her hair.

What the hell?

“Okay,” he said, voice uneven. It had been an accident, he told himself, nothing more. “Okay. That one was further away. Let me —”

His words trailed off when he saw the look on her face. She was scared. He knew she felt fear, but either her bad dream or their circumstances — or the combination — had left it much clearer on her face than he usually saw. She was shaking under his hands, eyes wide, features drawn.

“Hey,” he said gently. “It’s okay. They haven’t found us yet.”

“I know,” she said, a trace of her usual tone creeping back into her voice though it still shook. He’d never seen her this vulnerable before. “I’m all right.”

“Okay,” he said, but then there was another blast that sent them tumbling into each other again. Part of his mind noticed that it was farther away than before, but she had started shaking even harder. Before he could think, before he even understood the confused impulse, he had traced her jaw with his thumb and then brushed his lips against hers.

It was gentle, meant to reassure and offer a little comfort, but her reaction wasn’t. She responded, parting her lips and kissing him back. His whole body seemed to ignite but somehow, that was what brought him back to reality. Gasping, Tom broke away.

“I am so sorry,” he managed, pulling his hands away from her. “I can’t believe — I’ll get on the sensors now —”

Her hands fastened on the edge of his jacket, at the collar, where it was partially open. “Wait.”

“I don’t think —”

And then she leaned up and kissed him back. This time, it wasn’t gentle.

All of the pent-up fear and uncertainty of the past few hours seemed to release at once, and her tongue willingly met his. He realized that the low moan had come from him, and he cradled her face in her hands, returning the kiss. He could feel her hands slipping up, unzipping his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders so she could splay her hands against his chest.

He released her long enough to push it completely off his arms, taking the opportunity to trace his lips down her neck and then skim his hands down her waist and bring them back up, cupping her breasts through the fabric of her turtleneck. Her nipples responded, straining against the fabric, and she inhaled sharply before guiding his lips back to hers.

“God,” he whispered harshly. “Oh, God, you feel so good.”

Somehow, their turtlenecks came off and found himself unhooking her bra, sliding his hands over the bare skin underneath and then following with his tongue. She tasted incredible, and was trembling. He kissed her again, rocking his hips against hers so she could feel the erection through their clothing.

This was wrong. It was insane. It was incredible. He couldn’t believe how badly he found himself wanting her.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, rasping. “I can still stop.”

She caught his eyes. “Don’t ask questions.”

“I don’t know how much farther —”

She slipped her hands underneath his pants, and any vestiges of coherent thought vanished. Her fingers cupped him gently, sliding around his shaft while she used the other hand to ease his waistband over his hips. His hands were roaming her body, not content to stop at any one place, wanting to experience everything at once. His pants were off, and hers needed to be. Now.

But he fumbled. Taking the initiative, and with a hiss of pain as the sprained ankle presumably made itself known for a second, she rolled him onto his back as she kicked them off herself. Reclaiming her attention, he pulled her down for another long kiss, loosening her hair from its bun. It fell around them like a tent.

His hands slid toward her hips, but she caught them, guiding them away as she slowly lowered herself onto him. He moaned again, wondering if he might explode.

In the next moment, he understood why she was suddenly moving so slowly. It had apparently been a while and he could feel the interior muscles stretching, responding to accommodate him, fitting him so tightly the sensation was almost painful. It took every bit of will power he had not to respond right away. Instead, he moved his hands back to her face, trying to ease away the discomfort he could see there.

Just when he thought he couldn’t last any longer, she rocked her hips against his. He was immediately lost, moving one hand to the small of her back and tangling the other into her hair. He leaned up to kiss the hollow of her neck and then traced the line of her collarbone with his lips, moving with her, finding a rhythm.

Her gasps became wordless sounds of pleasure and then sharp cries. He could feel those tight muscles clenching and releasing, creating an urgent, exquisite pleasure. He’d never imagined she could be like this, and it didn’t take long before his own breathing became hoarse groans even as she reached her own peak and shuddered against him in climax. He responded in kind.

They shared another long kiss which gradually became gentle and tender. Tom drew her down and cradled her face against his shoulder, stroking her hair. She curled against him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. “My God. What was that?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It just…seemed to happen.”

They lay together in the darkness for some time, until he felt what seemed to be a shiver. “Do you want your jacket?”

“You know what will happen when we put those uniforms back on, don’t you?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“Do you really want to do that right away?”

“No.” He closed his eyes and let her push him back to the deck, luxuriating in the feel of her hair. There was going to be hell to pay later, but right now, he couldn’t have cared less.

“Voyager to shuttle Cochrane. Do you read?”

It was amazing how quickly one could scramble into clothing when given the proper motivation.

Tom landed in the pilot’s seat in time to answer the second hail. “We’re here, Chakotay. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Are you all right?”

Yeah, he thought. Just wonderful. She’s going to bust me right down to Crewman. “We got caught in the middle of someone else’s fight and had to put down and hide when the warp drive got knocked out. The captain’s hurt. Are you in range?”

“Yes, and there don’t seem to be any hostiles in the area anymore. How bad is she? Do you need an emergency beam-out?”

“We’ll make it a little longer,” she answered herself, limping into the co-pilot’s seat. Her hair was back into its bun. “But we’re glad you’re here. It hasn’t been a very pleasant wait.”

Tom glanced sideways, raising an eyebrow. That wasn’t quite what he was thinking.

She continued as if she hadn’t noticed. “Commander, prepare to open the shuttle bay doors. We’re on our way home.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Chakotay said, signing off.

Kathryn double-checked the comm before turning to him and levelly returning his stare. “Is there a problem, Mr. Paris?”

“No.”

She broke eye contact and limped back to the bench. “My ankle is swollen again. I can’t get the boot back on.”

“Go ahead and leave it. I’m sure no one will suspect anything, given that it hasn’t been a very pleasant wait.” It was only after the words came out of his mouth that he realized how they sounded.

And she reacted, snapping her head back around to face him. “Just how did you expect me to describe it?”

He fired the shuttle’s engines. “I don’t know. Certainly not that.”

“Surely you didn’t think I would —”

“Of course not!” Turning to face her, he forced himself to focus on the pips at her collar. “But things weren’t really that terrible —”

“Yes, they were,” she countered. “If we were in the Alpha Quadrant, we could both be court-martialed for such a lapse in judgment.”

He knew that.

Uncharacteristically, she buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I allowed that.”

So she wasn’t going to blame him; she was going to blame herself. Tom sighed. “If we were in the Alpha Quadrant, nothing ever would have happened in the first place. He put the engines on standby and moved back to sit beside her. “Stop this. I’m as much to blame as you are. We were both out of control and scared —”

“You didn’t exactly seem like it.”

He laughed. “Then I did one hell of an acting job.”

She looked up. “Okay. Keep it to ourselves, then?”

He nodded and moved back to the pilot’s seat, glad she didn’t seem to be angry at him. “For what it’s worth, I enjoyed it. I’m just sorry you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.”

Startled, he turned to look at her again.

“But don’t let it go to your head.”

He smiled and started backing the shuttle out of the cave. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

But he knew he would. He also knew he’d never quite be able to look at her the same way again.