taxonomites | 006: You've Yet to Have Your Finest Hour [Visual]

B'Elanna hadn't dealt with her death and subsequent resurrection particularly well. In fact, she hadn't dealt with it at all. She'd simply buckled down and redoubled her efforts to find a way to get out of the city and, if possible, contact Voyager.

She wasn't afraid of death. (That was one life lesson that she had taken away from her time at the monastery. Besides, at different times in her life and for a variety of different reasons, she had actively sought it. Fear didn't come into it.) She was even grateful - for want of a better word - to have been brought back to the city. The problem was that none of it had happened on her terms. For all her determination and engineering expertise and fighting skills, B'Elanna had been essentially helpless during the zombie invasion.

Although she'd faced death without fear, but she'd also faced it thinking that she would never see the man she loved or the friends that had become her family again.

In a way, the mysterious radio message was just what B'Elanna needed. It distracted her from her work on the Delta Flyer and it gave her a mystery to solve.

Maybe the answer would shed some light on the city and their furry captors.

"Xenolinguistics isn't my strong point," she said, switching on the tablet and addressing anyone who would be interested in what she had to say, "So I haven't been able to translate the broadcast, but I can tell you something. Wherever the transmission was coming from, it wasn't coming from inside the city. It originated on the other side of the barrier."

It hadn't been easy to trace it with the limited resources available to her and the outdated radio that had broadcasted the message in the first place, but she'd managed it. With difficulty and with a few angry outbursts, she'd managed it.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, B'Elanna actually grinned.

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"From outside the barrier? Really?" Long sounds very fascinated.

The visual shows him sitting in one of Taxon's parks, sitting on the grass and enjoying the sunlight. A paperback book is wrapped around one long finger, but his reading is on hold to deal with this interesting topic.

"Do you have a recording of the transmission? I heard it, but I do not have the hang of the tablets entirely, I am afraid. I don't know xenolinguistics either, but languages in general.... if I had the audio to study, I might be able to find some patterns."

"Really," she confirmed, without commenting on his surroundings. He looked so relaxed that it was hard to believe that he was in a city that was as dangerous and unpredictable as Taxon. If they'd been discussing a different topic, B'Elanna would probably have asked what he was reading.

"Of course. It's not on my tablet, but I can get you a copy."

The more people working on solving the mystery, the better. She intended to encourage anyone who expressed an interest.

He did look unfairly comfortable for a man living in a prison city that had recently contained zombies and other horrors. Blame the Buddhism.

"Excellent, I should be much obliged." Long paused, then chuckled a little. "Three languages, so far, that are entirely new to me here in Taxon-- counting your own Klingon. It is almost enough to make up for certain inconveniences."

"Almost," she said, her own chuckle considerably darker. "Maybe you'd like a few more lessons, once we've made some progress with the transmission?"

She didn't consider it her language - she'd spent too long hiding from her heritage for that - but she'd certainly welcome another source of distraction.

"Almost, yes," Long echoed agreeably. "And of course, if you don't mind.

"I don't have many vices, Lieutenant-- well, not so very many, anyway-- but I am a terrible slave to those that I do. Including the desire for more languages. So yes, when we have the time, and when we aren't otherwise occupied."

"I'd be happy to," she said, honestly. He was the sort of keen pupil that even a teacher like herself - someone who wasn't exactly a natural - couldn't resist.

Her mother wouldn't have believed that she was doing this. Even Tom would have been surprised.

Long smiled and nodded. "Very good, then. Learning a language not originally native to Earth can only help with my study of the transmission, I imagine.

"And besides, it is enjoyable."

"It's a good theory." In her own universe, it was useful in practice as well. But B'Elanna struggled to believe that anything was that simple in Taxon. The hamsters weren't that kind. "If you make any progress, will you let me know?"

"But of course," Long said, spreading his hands with a slight bow.

"I shall get to work at once-- and notify you, on results."

"Great. I'm not used to working on my own any more."

Which was strange, really. She'd always considered herself to be something of a loner. Her time on Voyager had changed a lot. Previously, she'd been too hot tempered and too argumentative to make friends easily. In the Delta Quadrant, she'd had no choice but to work with her new crew mates.

"You get used to being part of a crew," she admitted.

"I wouldn't know," Long said with a smile and a shrug. "But perhaps I will learn. Until next time, Lieutenant-- and hopefully I shall have some results to share."

“It’s the sort of thing that creeps up on you,” she said with a wry sort of smile, “Maybe you will.”

He’d been a useful person to have as part of a crew, after all.

“I’ll talk to you soon. Good luck.”

"I was big into xenolinguistics at the Academy," Kirk preludes his response with, "and out of the dozen or so tongues I'm familiar with, nothing matches up. Nor does it line up with anything archived in the Enterprise's computer."

Spock had already run the scans while he'd been busy recalibrating the sensors to monitor analogue frequencies that he hadn't thought to keep an eye out for before, having reached no solid conclusions. Not even a semblance of a lead. Whatever that was, it was largely unknown-- but, at least she'd picked up on the same thing they had: It didn't come from the aliens. (Unless the aliens made it appear to be, which Kirk wasn't about to rule out as a possibility, those fuzzy bastards.) He couldn't help but grin as well.

"Don't think I have to say what I wish it was. Long shot, but I'd like to think Starfleet would come looking for us, whether they be from my time or yours, Lieutenant."

He doubted it was that, exactly, but one could hope and think optimistic thoughts for a change.

"You're always full of surprises, Captain," she said, her expression making it difficult to tell if she was being sarcastic or teasingly affectionate. It was probably a combination of both. It was certainly a liberty that she wouldn't have taken when she'd first arrived in the city. A lot of things had changed over the last few months.

"The same thing that we're all hoping it was. And they will. I know they will."

Although she wasn't entirely convinced that the transmission had come from any version of Starfleet, she had no doubt that Voyager was out there somewhere and that they would find her eventually. It was just a matter of when.

Hopefully, they'd arrive before any more zombie invasions.

"I'm not in uniform." He pulled at the neckline of the simple blue t-shirt he was wearing. "Let's go with Jim."

This time last year, he would have been hard-pressed to be thrilled about the prospect of the wrong ship finding them, but time and version of the universe no longer matter. He wanted to go home, and whether that was the Earth of his time or of the one in B'Elanna's time where Nero hadn't screwed with the timeline didn't make a difference.

"Fine, Jim," she admitted, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender that didn't match her grin. "I'll try and remember that."

Probably around the same time that she remembered to hatch some casual civilian clothing for herself. Apart from the outfit she wore while she was training and the dress she'd reluctantly hatched for the Christmas party, B'Elanna tended to stick to her uniform.

He didn't blame her for spending so much time in uniform. A year had gone by before he had started making a habit of wearing civilian clothing. Now, it was a rarity to see him in the gold and stripes.

"You find anything else in your analysis?"

"Not yet," she admitted, with mild irritation. (Not addressed at Kirk - not even addressed at herself, really - but addressed at the hamsters and their perplexing prison.) "But I'm going to keep trying. I've got a few more tricks to try."

006: You've Yet to Have Your Finest Hour [Visual]

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