Pathways - Jeri Taylor [81]
James’s friendship nurtured B’Elanna at a pivotal point in her life, and she valued it immensely. But she was never unaware of the fact that she was, from those first fateful moments, completely in control of the situation. It was an empowering feeling, but the message it had given B’Elanna was of the potency of sex. She was convinced that had James Chesney not lusted for her, he would have ignored her. But what she could do with this knowledge, this power, she had no idea.
• • •
Her first stroll through San Francisco was emotionally overwhelming. It seemed at once sweetly familiar and wildly alien, for while many of the sights she had pored over in books and pictures were just as she had expected, nothing had prepared her for the reality of the jewel-like city by the bay. It was more beautiful, more energetic, more charged with activity and determination than she could have realized. Everyone she encountered seemed imbued with a sense of purpose, of mission, that she found exhilarating. She wanted to steep herself in those same energies, to take on some noble challenge, to accomplish grand and unimaginable goals. As she walked the hilly streets of San Francisco, she felt capable of anything.
Two months later, she wondered why she’d ever come to Earth.
She had been completely unprepared for the rigid disciplines in place at Starfleet Academy. Her fantasies of taking only the courses she enjoyed, of reading simply for pleasure, evaporated. Every minute of a cadet’s day was programmed, planned, and charted, and any off hours were consumed with studying. Every teacher seemed to think his or her course was the only one the cadet was taking, and piled on so much work it was impossible to stay abreast of it. She got by on no more than three or four hours of sleep a night, a feat that was easier for her than for many species, but that ultimately became debilitating.
And she missed James. She realized she had taken his friendship for granted, hadn’t appreciated how it buoyed and sustained her. Now, in its absence, she was unbearably lonely. But she had never developed socializing skills, and didn’t really know how to go about making new friends. Flipping them to the ground and lecturing them didn’t seem to be reasonable options at the Academy.
She and James spoke together frequently at first, and then, as happens, less and less as time went by. He was clearly absorbed in his studies, and his new friends, and eventually they had little in common to talk about. With sadness, she acknowledged that they had moved far apart.
She began to challenge her teachers, questioning regulations, confronting precepts. Her temper grew more intense and less controlled, and with each outburst she felt herself becoming more isolated. She had no one with whom to share these feelings; her mother had opposed her coming to the Academy in the first place, and she had made no real friends here. And so she did what she had done for most of her life: relied on herself, and tried to figure out what she was going to do with her life.
The night was cool, as she had been taught would be the case on Tresorin III. She had also been taught that she would be lucky to get off the planet alive. To come there alone was probably foolish, but she needed to test herself.
The first assailant burst out of the woods, which were shrouded in heavy fog. He was so large his armored body brushed the tree branches as he plowed through the forest, giving B’Elanna time to react and prepare for his attack. Without that slight warning, she knew, he would probably have overpowered her before she could turn to face him.
The moves that would save her took shape, not as conscious thoughts, but as instinctual reactions: crouch low, ready to spring . . . anticipate his first blow . . . use his bulk against him . . .
His head was huge and grotesque, plated like his body but misshapen and distorted so that it lacked any symmetry. Tufts of a furlike substance erupted in patches among the plates, and his