Neelix wiped his hands on his apron and smiled in satisfaction at his mess hall. The room was nearly full with the lunchtime crowd, and most of the crew had been happy, almost complimentary, over the new recipes he'd created using the fruits and vegetables from Antira, the planet they were currently orbiting. That green fruit, in particular, had made a delicious variation on Myrellian moon pies. And the crunchy pale blue vegetables had even more promise in a stew. He happily wandered back into the kitchen proper to consult Flynn's Galactic Cuisine, leaving behind a rapidly filling mess hall.

At one of the tables near the back, Jenny Delany hurried to join her twin, Megan. Between the two of them, they knew everything that took place on board Voyager. Megan looked like she had just found out some bad news.

"That Tom Paris makes me furious!" Megan glared across the table at her sister. Jenny smiled.

"What has he done now, cheated you out of your replicator rations?" She took a bite of her lunch, some new concoction of Neelix's. It was surprisingly good. She took another bite. Megan continued with her tirade, waving a forkful of food like a loaded phaser for emphasis.

"He saw me first, then he started dating that, that Klingon Maquis. Didn't I mean anything to him? And now he just uses us for his crazy holodeck stories." Megan paused to save her food from flying off her fork. Jenny felt confused.

"Didn't you dump Tom years ago?" Megan didn't seem to hear her, and went on with her rant. Lunch was so good Jenny was content to merely eat and listen, though soon her nods at her twin's complaints became more agreement than mollification. And it made perfect sense to Jenny when, as the two of them reached the mess hall door after they finished lunch, Megan slapped Tom Paris as he entered the room, then stormed off in tears.

"Bridge to Tom Paris."

His cheek stung. The room was full of people staring at him. Tom just stood there, stunned.

"Lt. Paris, report." The Captain's voice held less patience this time.

"Paris here." His crewmates began turning away and whispering to each other. He frantically tried to recall any reason Megan would have for slapping him.

"Report to the transporter room at 1300 hours. Chakotay will brief you."

"Aye, Captain." Tom turned and fled as the whispers rose louder behind him. His face burned. He'd have to find Megan later, or better yet, Jenny, and figure this out.

Half an hour later, Tom stood in the transporter room, dressed in loose blue pants and a deep purple shirt, both of which buttoned on the side. His outfit also included a blue skull cap and a pair of large gold bracelets, which had some sort of ritual meaning. It was clear to Tom from Chakotay's briefing that he didn't know exactly which meaning, and didn't want to admit it.

The doors whooshed open and Captain Janeway strode in, wearing a similar pair of loose pants and shirt, only in shades of green. She was closely followed by the Doctor, also in native garb and looking smug. The two joined Tom on the transporter pad.

"Are we clear on our mission?" Janeway looked at Tom expectantly.

"Yes, ma'am." Tom tugged at his ill-fitting clothing. "This is a cultural mission with the Antirians, a pre-industrial humanoid culture. We're a group of traders from the mountains, here for the harvest festival."

"So the Prime Directive is in full force. Understood?"

The Doctor and Tom chorused their "Yes, ma'am."

"Energize."

The fastest creature in any galaxy is gossip, as B'Elanna discovered shortly after lunch. By the time the story reached her, Tom and Megan had had a full blown lovers quarrel, complete with angry shouts and thrown food. B'Elanna was seething. Tom was lucky he was far away on the planet's surface, or B'Elanna would have thrown him. So she wasn't in the mood to hear, hours later, that Tom had managed to wind up in jail on said planet, supposedly for attacking a woman.

Tom was consumed with shame. Captain Janeway stood before him, on the other side of the bars surrounding his primitive cell, and he was sharply reminded of the first time they had met, and where. Standing beside her, holding a medical tricorder and wearing a disapproving expression, was the Doctor.

"All right, Mr. Paris, report."

They were alone in this section of the jail. The Captain was the first person he had seen since he had been slung, an hour ago, into the locked room. His memory of the previous hours was fuzzy. The away team had beamed down into a secluded alley, and after a brief reconnoiter, the three of them had split up. The town was celebrating a harvest festival, and Tom had bought dinner at a food kiosk in the marketplace. The meal had certainly been better than anything Neelix had fixed lately. He had met a pretty young woman, pale with a bluish cast to her hair, who had smiled at him and hung on his every word. After that horribly embarrassing experience in the mess hall at lunch, the attention was welcome. They had strolled together as night was falling, there had been an alley, and was there a kiss? Then all he could remember was angry voices, and this cell.

"Captain, I . . . I'm sorry. I don't remember much."

"They say you initiated sexual contact with one of their women --"

"I kissed her!"

"-which according to their laws means you declared your intention to marry her."

"What?"

"They arrested you when you declined her acceptance of your proposal."

"He doesn't appear to be suffering the effects of any virus or alien infection." The Doctor cut into Tom's stammering attempt to make sense of the accusations. "He doesn't even appear to be drunk." The Doctor snapped shut his tricorder. "I'll have to continue my analysis on Voyager, of course, but right now I'd say he's just fine."

"Oh, thanks." Tom was beginning to feel a little more coherent, and starting to realize just what kind of trouble he was in. "Captain, I honestly don't know what happened. I did just what you told me to do: visit the festival, meet Antirians, and fit in."

"Obviously you were a little enthusiastic on that point," the Doctor interjected dryly.

Ignoring the jibe, Janeway asked, "Did you kiss her?"

"Well, yes, I think so, but she expected me to. She wanted me to."

Janeway stood silently, just looking at him. Tom, realizing how that had sounded, could only stare back. Even the Doctor chose that moment to be quiet.

"He kissed her." Chakotay faced a raging B'Elanna in the privacy of his quarters. He didn't think he had ever seen her in quite this combination of rage and injured pride before. B'Elanna slammed her fist down on a nearby table. Chakotay winced, thinking how lucky Tom was that his face wasn't anywhere near that table.

"What was he thinking?" B'Elanna growled, more Klingon than human. "Or was he even thinking? And what's been going on between him and that Delany creature?"

"I spoke to Megan Delany about the incident in the mess hall." B'Elanna turned her fierce gaze toward him. "She claims that she remembers what happened, but only vaguely, and she doesn't know why she did it. I've ordered her to report to Sickbay for tests, then to her quarters until the Captain returns."

"I'd have her drawn and quartered." B'Elanna began to pace. "Is everyone going crazy? Or have I just been blind all this time?" She turned abruptly towards him, tears of anger and frustration starting in her eyes. "Have I? Have I just let Tom Paris fool me?"

Chakotay put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He was mildly surprised she didn't break it. "B'Elanna, I don't know. What I do know is that Tom must have a good explanation, and we won't be able to hear it until he and the Captain come back." He never thought he'd find himself standing up for Tom Paris. The most amazing things happened once you joined Starfleet. "Right now, you have responsibilities to see to of your own."

He could feel her muscles relax under his hand, though the anger wasn't completely gone. "All right, Chakotay, I'll wait. He'd better have a great story."

The tableau in the Antirian jail was disturbed by a creaking door, which opened to reveal two large young men and one larger, older man. Captain Janeway recognized them as the young woman's father, her fiance, and the jailer. They all had the characteristic Antirian pale skin and bluish hair, and the fiance wore an outfit similar to Tom's, complete with hat and gold bracelets. They all shared the same expression as well, grim and determined.

"I'll just be on my way." The Doctor made a sketchy bow in the general direction of the Captain, then sidled past the Antirians and through the door. The jailer stepped forward, and, while looming over her, unlocked Tom's cell and motioned him out, then disappeared back into the darkness behind it. She nodded at Tom, and he followed her and the others into the main room of the jail. There, the older man sat heavily in a chair, while the younger stood behind him. The older man abruptly broke the silence.

"I am Laylola's father. You are the young man who is betrothed to her?" He turned his unfriendly gaze towards Tom.

"Betrothed?" Tom asked, startled. "We never talked about marriage. We just took a walk." The younger man growled, but his elder shushed him. Janeway stepped forward.

"There's been some sort of misunderstanding. Tom didn't mean-"

"Didn't mean?" the younger man burst out. "But he wears the wedding bands. He announces he is available." The wedding bands? Janeway glanced at the gold bracelets Tom wore, then at Tom. He met her look. Chakotay had a lot to answer for.

"Yes, he wears the wedding bands, but he is not truly free to marry. You see, we come from far away," Janeway began, wondering which of the unlikely explanations she should give, and also wondering if any other Starfleet captain had ever come up with any story that sounded really good. Laylola's father didn't let her get that far.

"You are his mother." Janeway raised an eyebrow at that, but let it go. "You know the ritual of the harvest festival. A kiss at the moment of sunset binds the two together for a lifetime."

"But Laylola and I just met," Tom protested. "She doesn't want to marry me."

"She promised to be my wife," the younger man almost bellowed, "until you led her away, with your fancy clothes and exotic looks, and you betrothed her." His large hands had bunched into fists, and his face had grown purple. Janeway shifted her position to put herself between him and Tom.

"Maybe we can work something out," she suggested. "If your daughter had already promised to marry this man, I'm sure my . . . son will be happy to release her from the betrothal." And then we will beam out of this place faster than I can say "warp core breach," Janeway promised herself.

The old man sighed heavily. "No, what is done is done. Your son will marry my daughter at dawn tomorrow, and he will remain here until it is time." As Janeway began to open her mouth to protest, he added, "Unless you wish him to pay the penalty for breaking trust."

Janeway stayed silent, unwilling to admit she didn't know what he meant. The younger man, though, smiled at Tom with deep satisfaction and announced, "Death."

"If a man and a woman wish to procreate, why do so many others feel they must give their opinion?" Seven asked Harry as they sat across from each other in the mess hall eating their dinners. Harry glanced quickly across the room to where B'Elanna sat alone at a table in the corner. The rest of the crew had given her plenty of room. He didn't think she could hear the two of them talking.

"Well, uh, I guess because there are rules for, um, that kind of thing, and we just want to see if they're followed." As usual when he discussed this topic with Seven, Harry felt himself turn bright red and become unable to speak a coherent sentence.

"Rules?" Seven brightened. "Who has published these rules? I wish to read them." As Seven warmed to the subject, her voice grew louder and clearer. Harry glanced again in B'Elanna's direction, but she appeared absorbed in her own thoughts. "Species 363 had a genetically engineered mating ritual similar to Vulcans, but I have never heard of a published rule book of this sort."

"No, the rules aren't published, you just learn them as you go." Harry took a bite of his steak, the major part of his replicator rations for the week. He tried to think of a new, safer subject.

"How inefficient." Seven sounded disappointed. "You must waste a significant amount of your adolescence learning them. Of course, I would think Mr. Paris had time to learn the rules by now." She also took a bite of food, then made a face and put down her fork. "Another inefficient process. I am needed in Astrometrics." She stood up. "This was a very illuminating conversation." With that, Seven turned and left the mess hall, past the still glowering B'Elanna. Harry sighed in relief. With their own crew such a minefield, he wasn't at all surprised his friend had managed to land in jail on Antira.

"Death?" Tom stepped forward. "May I speak to you in private, uh, Mother?" A moment later, when the two of them were back next to Tom's cell, he said, careful to keep the beginnings of panic from his voice, "Captain, I just kissed her. I don't think I deserve to die for that."

"And you won't." She frowned, deep in thought. Tom tried to keep the butterflies in his stomach under control. After a moment, she spoke. "Janeway to Voyager. Come in."

"Tuvok here. Captain, what is your status?"

"Not good, and we don't have much time. I want Neelix to search our cultural databanks and find out anything and everything he can about Antirian marriage."

If Tuvok found the request odd, he was too experienced to show it. "Aye, Captain."

"How are things on Voyager?"

"There have been several incidents similar to the one between Mr. Paris and Megan Delany, though none in the past two hours." Tom winced at the memory. Before Tuvok could continue, the Doctor interrupted.

"Captain, if I may, I believe I've found the culprit. After running several tests on the offending crew members, I discovered a common element. It appears that a portion of the people who ate Antirian food suffered side effects in their brain chemistry, particularly that which affects mating behavior." Tom could tell the Doctor was enjoying this recitation, and was glad that the hologram couldn't see his face.

"So none of this was my fault?"

"It would seem that you're off the hook, Lieutenant." The Doctor sounded faintly disappointed.

"Which doesn't solve our immediate problem," Janeway cut in. "Let me know as soon as Neelix has a report. Janeway out."

Tom felt immeasurably relieved. Suddenly the day began to make more sense. As he relaxed, he thought about that afternoon. He didn't remember much after landing on the planet, but he did remember meeting Laylola. She was very pretty, and quiet at first. He had been walking through the busy market square, watching the revelers instead of where he was walking, and they had collided. She dropped her basket, and he helped her gather her spilled shopping. They had talked, and she had laughed, though nicely, at his ignorance of her town. He had asked about her family, her home, and tried not to talk about his at all. In fact . . .

"Captain, will you please ask Laylola's father if I can speak to her? I may have an idea."

When Laylola entered Tom's cell, she wouldn't lift her eyes to meet his. She was prettier than he remembered, which wasn't surprising given how little he did remember of the afternoon. She wore a dress of charcoal gray, and for the first time he noticed she wore a slim bracelet similar in design to his. He could hear Captain Janeway in the front room speaking to her father. The two of them were alone for now.

"Laylola?" She didn't look up. "Laylola, when did you figure it out?"

She looked up then, quickly, then back down at her feet. A smile started on her face.

"Oh, I was that obvious, was I?"

This time she looked up, straight into his eyes. She laughed. "Immediately. You must have come from very, very far away to know so little of our customs. So far away that I knew you would never come back again." At that, her smile faded.

"So that's it. You know I have to go away soon, don't you?" She nodded. "And if I don't marry you your father will kill me?" She nodded again.

"I'm sorry. I knew I was tricking you. But I couldn't marry him." She tossed her head in the direction of the other room. Her eyes began to fill with tears. "I had someone who I loved and who loved me very much, but he died last season from a fever. My father said I had to marry anyway, and if I wouldn't choose someone he would."

"And that's who he chose, huh? But what happens if I marry you, then go away? What happens to you?"

"I can leave my father's house. With the bridal gifts from your family I can start a business, and never depend on my father again. Then someday, when I find someone I want to marry, I can declare you dead and marry him." For a moment she looked uncertain. "There will be bridal gifts, won't there?"

"I'll make sure there will be." Tom gathered her into his arms and kissed her gently on the lips, then released her and went to find her father.

"So are you married to her or aren't you?" Harry asked the next morning, as the two drank Neelix's idea of coffee over breakfast.

Tom yawned. The ceremony at dawn had been mercifully short, but beautiful in its way. Laylola had been radiant, and her father had relaxed his grim look enough to appear almost pleasant. Captain Janeway had provided a small but sufficient dowry for him, not enough to affect the economy or violate the Prime Directive but enough to set Laylola free. The Captain and her new "daughter" had had a chance for a long talk before the ceremony. Tom suspected the two had a lot in common.

"No, Harry, I'm not married. At least, not according to Starfleet rules and regulations. All I did was help someone out." Tom felt pleased with himself. He was out of jail and in the good graces of his Captain. Not a bad piece of work for one day, if he did say so himself.

"You'd better figure out how to explain that to B'Elanna," Harry cautioned him.

"B'Elanna?" Suddenly Tom was wide awake. "She'll understand. I'm sure she'll understand."

"Good. You can start explaining to her right now." Harry quickly swallowed the last of his coffee. "Here she comes."

B'Elanna had just stalked through the doors, a decidedly Klingon look on her face. Tom scrambled to his feet. Harry gave his friend a sympathetic look before hurrying off towards the bridge. Behind him, he could hear Tom's voice rising, a note of pleading apparent in it.

"B'Elanna. Honey. I was just coming to find you. It wasn't my fault. Really. Just ask the Captain. Or the Doctor. B'Elanna?"

Then the mess hall doors closed. Harry was happy to be on this side of them.

"Star Trek: Voyager" is a registered trademark of Paramount Pictures, Inc., as are all of the names and characters contained in this story. This story is, in fact, the property of Paramount Pictures, since I entered it in the "Strange New Worlds IV" story contest (but didn't win, go figure). Copyright 2001 by Karen Williams