“The Rain Chronicles” [PG] – Book II

The Rain Chronicles” [PG] – Book II

Rain Robinson of ”Future’s End” ends up on Voyager, following her adventures with Tom Paris and Tuvok in late 20th century Earth. Here is Book II. 


I had not seen much of Rain Robinson, following our discovery of her aboard ship. Come to think of it, I have not see much of Tom, either. One can only assume he was busy, getting her acquainted with Voyager. On her third day aboard ship, the two paid a visit to Engineering. Personally, I would have preferred if Tom had chosen someone else – preferably Sue Nicoletti or Vorik – to welcome the little newcomer. Fate has a way – it seems – of never going my way.

“Hi B’Elanna,” Tom greeted in his usual affable manner. “You remember Rain Robinson, don’t you? From the staff meeting, a few days ago?”

I gave them both a stiff smile. “Oh yeah. Our time traveler.” I faced her. “So, is Tom giving you a tour of the ship?”

Miss Robinson responded with a brief nod. “Yeah.” I noticed that her eyes seemed fixated on my face. Or to be exact, my forehead. Kahless! Where is a scarf when one is needed?

“You find something interesting?” I growled slightly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that . . . well, to be honest, I’ve been staring at a lot of people, lately.” Translation: she had been staring at all the odd-looking aliens. Non-Terrans. “I guess everyone has a good reason to stare at me, as well. Considering I’m from the past. But I’ve got to be honest, that forehead of yours really looks exotic. I know a good number of men who would probably fall for you like crazy.”

She must be insane. Or a bad judge of character. A lot of men fall over me? Huh! I still remember how that Arizona terrorist had stared at me. Like some animal that had escaped from a zoo.

Miss Robinson continued, “What exactly are you? I know that Tuvok is from some place called Vulcan.”

“She’s half-Klingon, half-Human,” Tom answered before I could. He gave me a fond look. For some reason, it warmed me considerably. “There’s no one in this universe quite like her.”

Miss Robinson stared at Tom for what seemed like a long moment, before she murmured in an acid voice that took me by surprise, “Now that sounds familiar.” Unless my senses were deceiving me, there seemed to be a hint of jealousy in her eyes. Or resentment. 

“Did you say something?” Tom asked. Apparently, he had not heard her last remark. Nor did Miss Robinson bothered to answer.

I continued, “I suppose you require a tour of Engineering?” Both Tom and Miss Robinson nodded and I proceeded to give them the guided tour. While I rambled on about the ship’s functions, I noticed a few things about my two visitors. One, Tom made every effort to express his continuing friendship toward Miss Robinson with every look or gesture he could muster. As for our intrepid time traveler, she continued to either reject or ignore his attempts. What the hell had brought on this sudden coldness?

When the tour finished, Miss Robinson thanked me and asked if we could meet for breakfast or lunch, one day. My first instinct was to say no. But a small part of me felt a little curious about her and what she had to say. Besides, I also wanted to learn what made her tick. So, I said yes.

* * * * 

RAIN ROBINSON – April 29, 2373:

“There’s no one in this universe quite like her.” That is what Tom had said about that engineer, B’Elanna Torres. Hmmm. Sounded familiar. Very familiar. Hell, if one changed a few words, it would sound exactly like, “You’re like no woman I’ve ever met.” The very words Tom had spoken to me, when he had said good-bye to me in the California desert. Only in Lieutenant Torres’s case, I suspect that Tom had been more sincere. 

I saw the look he gave her. And I don’t blame him. The lieutenant is a very beautiful woman – in an exotic way. So, why did I bother to make plans for breakfast or lunch with her? To learn about the competition? What competition? I already knew whom Tom preferred. It seemed useless to put a fight. Besides, I rather liked Lieutenant Torres. She seemed a little livelier than most of the jokers on this ship. Her and a few others – like Tom and Neelix.

Neelix is this strange-looking guy, who looks like a warthog with spots, whiskers and a Mohawk haircut. Despite his strange appearance, he is very nice and a lot of fun. Unlike the others, he is a native of this part of the galaxy – the Delta Quadrant. He’s from this planet called Talax. About two years ago, he was a junk trader, who joined the ship to act as a guide and cook.

His girlfriend, Kes, is also a native of the Delta Quadrant. And Ocampan. Like Neelix, she is also nice – but in a quiet way. Kes is a pretty blonde with ears that made her look like an elf. She serves as the medical assistant to the ship’s doctor. And like Tom, Neelix and Lieutenant Torres, she doesn’t seem to possess this smug air that permeates the majority of the crew. In other words, she doesn’t look upon me like some savage or Neanderthal from the past. Because the rest of them sure do. What the hell did I get myself into?

* * * *


It’s over. Between Neelix and Kes, I mean. It took the malevolent spirit of some dead warlord to break up Voyager’s only permanent couple. Only, they are no longer permanent. Is it any wonder that I try to avoid relationships as much as possible?

Thanks to Tieran, the warlord who possessed Kes, the latter finally discovered her dark side. Kes also realized that she had outgrown Neelix and her gratitude toward him for saving her from the Kazon. Apparently, her feelings toward him had stemmed from gratitude.

From what Harry told me, Neelix is feeling desolate over his broken romance. Once we had left the Ilari homeworld, I decided to offer my condolences to him. Since Neelix has always proven to be one of the few willing to befriend me, I decided to offer my condolences. Cheer him up. Only, upon my arrival at the Mess Hall just before lunch, I found him deep in conversation with Rain Robinson.

She stood next to the counter, contemplating dishes that Neelix had set out for lunch. “What’s this again?” she asked, pointing at some kind of custard pie with brown sticks protruding from it.

“Alarian pie,” Neelix replied. “It’s quite delicious. Made with Alarian eggs and Cancus mushrooms.”

Miss Robinson pointed at the brown sticks. “And what are those?”

Neelix replied, “Hagellian roots. It gives the soufflé its flavor.” 

Eyeing the dish warily, Miss Robinson continued, “It doesn’t taste like Leola root, does it?”

“You don’t like Leola root?”

Unlike the rest of us, Miss Robinson happened to be a little more blunt. “Neelix, don’t take this the wrong way, but your Leola root stew is hard to take! I took one bite and nearly gagged. Hasn’t anyone else told you?”

“No,” Neelix ruefully answered. “Well, I do recall that Commander Chakotay had once expressed distaste of it. But he hasn’t said anything since.” He paused and glanced at my direction. “Ah! B’Elanna! A bit early for lunch, are you?”

Miss Robinson also glanced at me and nodded. I returned the nod and glanced at the display of food on the counter. “Hi Neelix,” I greeted. “Did I just hear you tell Miss Robinson that you had some pie for lunch?”

“Alvarian pie.” Neelix cut a slice of the pie and served it on a plate. “Try some.”

I hesitated. Mind you, I really like Neelix. He is a sweet man and a wonderful friend. But I have never been able to truly enjoy most of his Delta Quadrant delicacies. I like to use the replicators, unless I have no other choice. Which happened to be the case, today. “I, uh . . .” I began, trying to find words that would not insult him.

Miss Robinson suddenly volunteered in my stead. “Give it to me, Neelix. I’ll try it.” She gave me an understanding smile. “I don’t mind being the guinea pig, today.” Then she took a bite. Her eyes lit up with delight. “Hmmm, this is great! You should try it.”

I did. Not bad, but I found the pie a tad too spicy for my taste. “Doesn’t this spice bother you?” I asked the other woman.

Dark eyes stared at me in disbelief. “This is too spicy for you?”

“Well, I’m not used to so much spice,” I replied, trying not to sound defensive. As much as I like our guest, she seemed to have a habit of questioning a person. Much like Tuvok in the middle of an interrogation.

Miss Robinson’s eyes continued to penetrate mine. “Where is your family from?” she asked. “I mean, your Human family.” I told her. Mexico. From the state of Nuevo León, not far from Monterrey. “And you’re not used to spicy food?”

“I was mainly raised by my Klingon mother,” I coolly replied. “Klingons do not eat spicy food. As for Humans, they’re more inclined to eat healthier food.”

Miss Robinson seemed horrified at the thought. “Good God! What is the fun in that?”

Neelix added in a conspiratorial manner, “To be honest, I have to agree with you, Miss Robinson.”

“Call me Rain. All of you.”

Orange-yellow eyes brightened considerably. Already, Miss Robinson . . . uh, Rain had managed to wrap the cook around her little finger. “If you insist,” Neelix added happily. “As I was about to say, between you and me, I like my food with a little spice or zest. I didn’t think there were any Humans who felt the same.”

“On Earth . . . well, 20th century Earth, I’m from the Southwest. A Southern California girl. Spice is almost like table salt to us.” While the two chatted happily, I did not have the heart to inform Miss . . . I mean, Rain that 24th century Humans also try to avoid salt. Oh well. She will eventually learn.

As for Neelix, judging by his happy countenance, I could see that he no longer needed any consolation from me or anyone else. Whatever he may still feel over his breakup with Kes, Rain has managed to put him a better mood. For the moment.

* * * *


Damn that Q! What an exasperating man . . . or omnipotent being! Or whatever. To be honest, I could say the same about him, his mate and the entire Q Continuum. 

Not only did Q try to mate with me, behind the female Q’s back, he had also dragged me into the Continuum’s civil war. I nearly got killed – first by shells and gunfire, while dressed in some ridiculous 19th century dress. Wait. Perhaps I’m being a little harsh about the dress. I rather liked it. It would have been a perfect outfit to wear in my Gothic holonovel. But I digress. Not only did he and the Continuum drag both my crew and me into their war, he had refused to do me a favor in return for helping him settle the war.

Following the Continuum’s civil war, Q returned to Voyager, with his new son in tow. To my surprise, he named me as the child’s godmother. Image that – Kathryn Janeway, a guardian of an omnipotent being. I faced an even greater shock after I asked Q to return Miss Robinson to 20th century Earth. He refused. Q had the nerve to inform me that he could not do as I had asked.

“May I ask, why?” I demanded.

For once, Q looked serious. “I’m sorry Kathy. I may be capable of a lot of things, but tampering with the timeline is a no-no in the Continuum.”

“Pardon me? Is this the same person who sent the Enterprise-D into the Delta Quadrant, forcing the Federation into a premature contact with the Borg?”

Q sighed. “And look what that has brought me. The Continuum punished me for my . . .” the man actually managed to pout, “. . . irresponsible behavior. Now that the civil war is over and I’m a father, I must learn to be a little more prudent.”

“Prudent? Don’t you consider returning Miss Robinson back to where she belong, prudent?” I cried. Not that I disliked the young lady, but Miss Robinson has a tendency to be a little . . . well, direct. Or should I say, blunt. She has become a strong reminder to the crew of what Humans were like in the past centuries. Quite frankly, it is a reminder I could do without.

A cryptic smile touched Q’s lips. Damn the man! “Now Kathy, how do you know that Miss Robinson doesn’t belong here? Has her presence upset the timeline in any way?” Right after we learned of Miss Robinson’s presence, I had Tuvok and Tom Paris examine the ship’s database for any discrepancies in the timeline. Apparently, neither man was unable to detect any. “Of course they haven’t!” Q retorted. “Miss Robinson’s presence on this ship has not changed anything. If she had not sneaked aboard Voyager,” I winced at the imagery, “she would have been dead.”

Hands on hips, I glared at Q. “What do you mean?”

With a sigh, Q explained that after parting from Helm . . . uh, Lieutenant Paris, Miss Robinson would have been killed in a crime that occurred at some store on her way back to Los Angeles. “And if that idiot Braxton had not sent you screaming into the 20th century, she would have been killed by some thuggish little cretin with no redeeming qualities.”

“So, you’re saying . . .”

The omnipotent being smiled grandly. “She’s all yours, Kathy. Don’t worry. I’m sure that Miss Robinson will put a little zest in your humdrum lives. Especially Helmboy’s. That is, if your little Klingon engineer doesn’t get her hands on him, first. I must say that I rather like Miss Robinson. She reminds me of how you Humans used to be . . . before you became dull and self-righteous.”

“Q!” I gave him my deadliest glare. Unfortunately, the scamp ignored me. With Q Junior squirming in his arms, he said good-bye one last time and vanished. I sighed. It looked as if Miss Robinson is here to stay.



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