::drops final platter on table, wondering just how close the NX's chef is to being fed up by in quarters dinner requests::

::moves eyes to three plates set out, one of which will definitely stay empty::

::sighs, checking chronometer one more time::

I don't know why I volunteer myself for her crazy schemes...this can't possibly go well.

::bends, straightening pitcher and glasses again::

::abruptly straightens at door knock, wiping hands on trousers...great, right on time::

::shrugs of nerves, cracking knuckles instead::

It's unlocked. Come in.

::pulled a late shift in the Delta Flyer, helping annikahansen tie together a few last minute ends on her transponder project::

::isn't willing to face ramifications of the next stage...testing...yet::

::home is a trick question these days::

::enters door code absently, stepping over hatch into darkened living area with only a sparing look around::

::double-takes, seeing linnis_paris on floor::

meditating?

::moves forward quietly, halting a few inches before half-Ocampan and her burned out candle::

Linnis? Are you still awake?

If that kid calls me 'Hairy' (yes, I can hear the difference!) one more time I'll arrange for her to have a real personal barbering session with Doc when we get back to Voyager.

Which, with any luck, will be very soon. Not that anyone else is generous enough to even pretend they're happy about it.

Why do I bother?

...because I love Linnis, that's why. Even if I get the idea it isn't reciprocated any longer...

::smoothes down festive shirt, yanking discarded lei from pile nearby and pulling it on::

Chakotay'll kill me.

::impatiently taps a few commands into nearby console, stepping back onto transporter platform::

Computer, pinpoint biosign of Tom Paris and beam me there...but a few yards away.

::blinks as rematerializes in the midst of party::

::looks furtively around::

God, I hope no one saw that...

::runs fingers through hair, moving off to begin search for linnis_paris::

I have no wife.

And thanks to work you can have the exec chair back any day now, Tom and that special species of humanoid being known as son, I have no life.

Ship-wise, Chakotay has thumbed away a slip-stream drive plan before I could even begin the grit work, and thus we appear to be stuck in this god-forsaken quadrant for the forseeable future.

Tuvok's neuro disorder has worsened. Though he still serves as advisor and counselor de facto, Neelix is now running around with the tactical codes.

...

If we're headed your way, be scared. Be very scared.

Linnis and Tom have been missing for almost two months now. Note that I've never allowed myself to say gone, and it appears to have worked. We've recently recaptured those strange comm signals and also been able to tap back into the very...odd but amusing ...cross universal and cross temporal journal system.

Which brings me to this.

WTF?

And stop smirking, son. I have a word for you. Naomi.

Thought so.

WTF?