TRIALS FOUR: Shadow's Trials By Terri Zavaleta (TerriTrek@aol.com) VOY - Trials Series - P/T, K/f Rated PG-13 for adult themes DISCLAIMER: Everyone knows (or everyone who counts) that Paramount owns the Star Trek Universe and its characters. This is my own work written as an outlet for creativity and not for profit. Special thanks to the PT Collective (y'all know who you are) who created the characters of Ethan Simms, Mikel Hudson, and Janine Lamont. Other characters you don't recognize are my own invention. Thanks to my beta readers Janet, Tracy, Deb, Chris, and Cheryl (especially for the 'groovy' hint!). And to PJ for endless nagging (excuse me---encouragement! ;P ) which prompted me to be quick about it. Or as quick as I could be in the face of a double attack by REAL LIFE and WRITER'S BLOCK. And to Ann whose advice was not new, but well- timed. Please do not distribute my work without my permission. TRIALS FOUR: Shadow's Trials, Part One ************* It was the day after the night that, thanks to Ensign Ethan Simms, came to be known as Full Moon Night---though the term was actually meaningless on a starship traveling through space. That didn't matter. Everyone knew exactly what he meant. The Security Officer had dubbed the preceding evening with this title because of the sudden rash of wildly inappropriate and otherwise fascinating behaviors that had gone on---the kind of behaviors that on Earth used to be blamed on the presence of a full moon. These behaviors had resulted in Ethan and his partner, Mikel Hudson, being responsible for taking several crewmen into custody at the very beginning of their usually quiet third shift duty period with charges and counter-charges being tossed back and forth among the participants. Several crewmembers had also been seen coming and going from Sickbay under suspicious and/or noteworthy circumstances which added to fuel to the rapidly spreading flames of gossip. The ship's grapevine had never been presented simultaneously with so many juicy tidbits to mull over. First, there was the whole Malista Shadow/Harry Kim situation. It seemed that, contrary to the odds in the betting pool, Shadow and Kim were back together again and seemed closer than ever which pleased some and displeased others who'd taken an interest. In addition, it appeared that there was no truth to one of the wilder rumors---that Tom Paris had caused the rift in his best friend's relationship by attempting to start his own harem--- beginning by recruiting Malista Shadow and B'Elanna Torres. The trio of Shadow, Torres, and Paris had been exercising on the holodeck---not engaging in sexual games. It was a circus program and they intended to demonstrate their new acrobatic skills at the next ship's talent show. They'd been wearing robes when entering and leaving the holodeck because they were wearing tight, revealing costumes appropriate to the setting and physical activities. Many people salivated at the thought---but refused to specify which member of the trio they were fantasizing about---if they weren't envisioning any combination or all three. The juiciest item of interest concerning the reconciliation dealt with the involvement of Ensign George Natwick. The original rumor was that the ensign had made an unwelcome move on Malista and that Harry Kim had come to her rescue---only to be beaten into unconsciousness by Natwick, who was in turn beaten into unconsciousness by Lt. Tom Paris. The source of this particular bit of reporting, known for flights of fancy, was immediately discredited by other witnesses who stated that Natwick went looking for Kim, rather than the other way around, and that at the time Malista was nowhere in view. It was also hard to credit that George Natwick, the massively muscle-bound Security Officer who taught self- defense classes, had been beaten into unconsciousness by anyone! Much less that the easy- going Tom Paris had done so---unassisted. Another twist on the story was that Natwick had attacked Kim at the request of Malista Shadow, who had subsequently been attacked herself by B'Elanna Torres in retaliation and that both women had wound up in Sickbay. Yet another version had the self-defense instructor attacking Tom Paris---no reason given---and being subdued by Malista, B'Elanna, and Harry who all ended up in Sickbay. This one was so farfetched it merited little attention and got no betting action at all. When the facts, according to the arresting officers, Mikel Hudson and Ethan Simms came out, the story was much less interesting, but still provided a lot of room for speculation for the bored crew of Voyager. When, why, and how had George Natwick gotten involved? What had he been doing alone with Malista in her quarters for approximately forty-five minutes? Where there was smoke, there was sure to be fire. Something must have been going on! Why else had he left her quarters and gone looking for Harry Kim apparently with murder on his mind? And now that Harry Kim and Malista Shadow were a couple once more, what about George Natwick? How in the name of Titan's ten moons had Tom Paris (of all people!) managed to not only pin Natwick, but subdue him, until his arrest? And emerge unscathed from the encounter? The pilot was known for being quick with a quip---not with his fists. Still, there was speculation that he might have learned a few tricks in prison. Which provoked a whole other topic of debate. Another item of much discussion was the arrest of the ship's librarian, Diane Russell on charges of assault. The idea of the shy, tiny woman knocking Freddie Bristow down (and adding insult to injury by kicking him) was so amusing that it was almost impossible to believe. It seemed so out of character, that many talebearers insisted that she had taken the blame for Aron Dalby, the hot-headed former Maquis and the new love of her life. Neither Aron nor Diane would comment and Freddie Bristow had decided to maintain an uncharacteristically low profile. He couldn't be found off duty, and was all but unapproachable on duty. He was, however, noticeably subdued and not interested in the pursuit of the fairer sex at this time. The gamblers began a pool on when he would begin a new chase---and who his next amorous target would be. They had to have *something* to bet on! ************* "Everyone's staring," Malista hissed under her breath. She'd tried to avoid the messhall completely for breakfast that morning, but Harry had insisted that they'd done nothing wrong and to hide away from public view would just cause the speculation to increase in geometric proportions. "Don't look at them," Harry said with an amused smile. It felt strange to be the bold one of a pair. He was usually the quiet one who followed. He tugged on her hand, drawing her closer and slipping his arm around her waist. "Just look at me." She followed his instructions and found her green eyes ensnared in his dancing dark ones. He was smiling at her. Her own nervous expression melted into a smile. She'd rather look at him than anything or anyone else on the ship anyway. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she trusted him to lead them to the table where Tom and B'Elanna were waiting. He made it without a misstep---almost a miracle, considering he wasn't watching where he was going. She was so beautiful he found it hard to take his eyes off her. And never more than when she smiled just for him. Of course, it wasn't terribly surprising that he didn't trip. It's impossible to trip---when you're walking on air. Kathryn Janeway smiled indulgently at the pair, before turning her attention back to her badly needed coffee. Chakotay raised an inquiring eyebrow in her direction. They both had gone a little short on sleep last night. It had been the beginning of the third shift when they'd been called to Sickbay and then to the brig in order to deal with the---consequences-- -of Full Moon Night, which had taken some time as well. "Yes, Commander?" the captain said dreamily as she savored her morning caffeine fix. Her expression was that of deep satisfaction. Her coffee was her one real indulgence and she tended to make it last as long as possible. "Nothing, Captain. Just thinking---how long do you think the peace will last this time?" His brown eyes were twinkling, though he kept a straight face. Her appreciation of coffee had an almost sensual affect on her. He half expected her to purr after each sip. She suppressed a smile. "Until the next full moon?" "Or until the next romance goes awry?" Chakotay added, nodding toward the isolated corner table. Freddie Bristow was trying to blend into the wall as he manfully struggled to eat his breakfast while pretending he didn't know that many of room's occupants were staring at him---and that those who weren't staring were talking about him. The young man was in for a rough few days. His physical bruises had been healed in Sickbay last night, but the embarrassment of the emotional beating he'd taken had, temporarily at least, subdued his youthful exuberance and egocentrism. The captain hastily set down her coffee cup, before a tremble of laughter could cause a spill. "Do you think he's finally learned a lesson? Or do you need to schedule him for some counseling?" Chakotay's face took on a pained expression. "Captain, perhaps at the next friendly planet we find, we could attempt to recruit a qualified ship's counselor?" She raised an eyebrow at him. With a sigh, she drained the last drop of coffee from her cup and studied its emptiness pensively, almost mournfully. "Would you like another cup of coffee, Captain?" Chakotay teased. She sent him a reproachful glance as she got to her feet. "Don't tempt me, Commander." "With coffee?" he asked, a shade too innocently, his dimples deepening. She narrowed her eyes at him as if sighting him with a weapon. "Let's get to the bridge." He got to his feet and followed her without another word. His eyes, though, brimmed with mischief---and something warmer. ************************ It was a very long duty shift for those who'd stayed up till the early hours of the morning. B'Elanna Torres was not the type to be pumped for information or teased so she was left in peace to pursue her stated goal of making the Engineering Department one hundred percent efficient. Harry Kim and Tom Paris spent their shift on the bridge under the watchful eyes of the captain, the first officer, or both, so there was no opportunity for others to get at them in order to seek facts or express opinions. Malista Shadow, on the other hand, was assigned to Maintenance and Repair and, therefore, was out and about the ship carrying out her duties---which made her the most obvious source of information. And the most obvious target for the innuendoes, prying questions, and unsought advice offered by other crewmembers. It was unfortunate that she was also the least prepared of the foursome for dealing with that kind of public pressure. Some questions were idle curiosity, not meant to be taken as unkindly. Others were direct, pointed, and malicious. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't assertive enough to confront them and tell them to leave her alone. So she tried ignoring them, hoping if they got no response they'd leave her alone. She withdrew---mentally and emotionally, when a physical retreat was impossible. Approaching her immediate supervisor, Malista waited to be noticed and then spoke. "Lt. Torres? I finished the realignment of the forward sensor arrays. Could I have my next assignment now?" The half Klingon looked up quickly, mildly startled and concerned. The formality in the young woman's manner didn't surprise Torres. They were on duty. It was the usual professional approach. What caught Torres off guard was Crewman Shadow's total neutrality. Crewman Shadow was no longer smiling as she had been at breakfast. In fact, Crewman Shadow had no expression at all. The carefully blank look that was turned toward the Chief Engineer reminded Torres forcefully of the defensive Malista that she'd hoped had been banished for good. "What's wrong?" B'Elanna snapped. Shadow stared at her dispassionately. "Nothing, Lieutenant. Could I have my next assignment, please? I don't mind working alone," she added, hoping she wasn't being too pushy and that Torres would take the hint. Malista had never been so conscious as she was at this moment of the difference in rank and the fact that this woman was her immediate supervisor. She didn't want the chief to think she was trying to take advantage of their off- duty friendship. B'Elanna frowned at her. She growled under her breath as she noticed the two of them were attracting stares from others in the section who'd just 'happened' to wander into the area at this particular time. The growl startled Malista into widening her eyes, but she remained silent. "Are the idiots getting to you?" Torres said, more loudly than necessary. There was a sudden flurry of movement as everyone within earshot quickly got busy and pretended deafness. No one wanted to draw the chief's wrath down on his or her head. She'd been in a good mood all morning. The staff preferred for her to stay that way. It made life in Engineering less nerve-wracking. Torres continued to meet Shadow's eyes unflinchingly, demanding a response. "Well?" The taller woman swallowed hard. "It's just---everyone's staring. And asking questions." For someone who had managed to remain practically invisible among the Voyager crew for three years, the sudden interest in her every move was difficult to deal with. She could count the number of her friends on her fingers and have a few left over. It was unnerving to think everyone on the ship was talking about her, watching her. It made her extremely self-conscious. B'Elanna scowled. No one had bothered *her* with such silliness. Of course, it didn't occur to her that no one would dare. Shaking her head, she checked her datapadd for the status of repairs. "Okay, Malista. Go to Shuttlebay One and go over the power coupling relays in the shuttles. They were low priority since we haven't been using them. And don't forget to inspect the couplings in the consoles there." Shadow nodded with a hint of a grateful smile. "We've almost finished with the power coupling replacements?" she ventured. "Yes," Torres replied vehemently. "I think we'll be through by end of Beta shift tomorrow. And Kahless knows, it's taken long enough!" She waved a hand in dismissal and returned her attention to her console. Just the words 'power couplings' were enough to cause her to grimace. Replacing the defective parts had been a massive undertaking. Malista picked up her tool kit and some replacement power couplings and went to Shuttlebay One---where only two crewmen were on duty---and they would be too busy to talk to her. She knew that Torres had just done her a favor. She appreciated it very much. Malista was able to stay out of sight, and hopefully out of mind, for the remainder of her shift. ************* It took some persuasion to lure Malista to the holodeck later that evening, but Tom insisted they all had something to celebrate. He used his brotherly powers of persuasion---in other words, he complained, whined, and tried to make her feel guilty for turning down his invitation until she gave in. She had a sneaking suspicion that B'Elanna had told him she was upset by the public attention she was receiving. Shadow decided Tom wanted the ship's gossips to get used to seeing the four of them together and get it out of their systems. Malista did manage to choose a corner table and deliberately sat with her back to most of the crowd. After an hour, she was finally beginning to relax and look around the club to see what everyone else was doing that evening. Jenny and Megan Delaney approached their table. Tom stiffened. Last night, he'd almost lost his temper when Jenny had told him and Malista about the rumors concerning their relationship. Earlier in the day he had apologized to her for his brusqueness the night before. Now he was wary of Jenny's occasional tactlessness, afraid she would be careless of Malista's vulnerability. B'Elanna placed a restraining, reassuring hand on Tom's wrist, but eyed the twins suspiciously herself. They weren't by any means her favorite people. Harry took Malista's hand in his and rubbed his thumb across the base of hers soothingly. "Malista---" the twins said in unison. They stopped and exchanged a glance. Jenny continued alone. "We wanted to apologize for hurting your feelings last night. We thought you should know about the gossip, but we didn't mean to---" "It's all right, Jenny. Megan. I shouldn't be so---sensitive." Harry squeezed her hand in a show of support. He'd heard the rumor himself a few days before it had come to the ears of Malista, Tom, and B'Elanna. He'd had sharp words with the 'friend' who'd told him that Tom was engaged in a three-cornered affair with Malista and B'Elanna, and asked if that was why Harry was no longer friends with any of them. Last night, after being dismissed from Sickbay, Harry had spent a couple of hours reassuring Malista that he hadn't believed a word of it---or been hurt by the talk which seemed to be her major concern at that time. "Could we talk to you a minute? In private?" Megan added. The twins considered Malista a friend and were relieved she was prepared to forgive them. "Sure." With an apologetic glance at her companions, Shadow got to her feet and followed the two Starfleet officers to a deserted corner of the bar. The watching eyes of other crew members made note of their progress. The Delaney twins always attracted attention, in part because of their remarkable good looks. The long copper-red hair and lovely features would have been attractive on any woman. But when there were two? Sensory overload. It was almost impossible to tell which was which this evening. For a change, they had dressed identically, wearing violet blouses and navy slacks. Their hair style was the same and even their expressions were similar. They were both determined to help Malista Shadow. They'd unintentionally been responsible for causing her pain when she'd been nothing but a friend to them. They couldn't live with that on their consciences. As soon as the three had settled onto the barstools, Megan whispered, "What did George Natwick do?" Shadow stiffened. "Why? What did you hear this time?" Her face gave nothing away. The sisters exchanged glances again. Their communication with each other bordered on telepathic. They often didn't need words at all. "We heard he followed you when you left the holodeck---and then the two of you went to your quarters." "And he stayed there for forty-five minutes. Then he went looking for Harry Kim and tried to take his head off with one punch!" "And Tom stopped him and he was arrested and then you and Harry showed up together in Sickbay thirty minutes later. And no one pressed charges for anything so he was released," Jenny finished the synopsis in a rush as her breath ran out. Shadow eyed them appraisingly. "That's all?" "You don't want to hear the details, trust me," Megan said, laying a hand on the taller woman's arm. Malista sighed. "No, I suppose I don't." "So exactly what did George do? Did he get out of line like he did at the Cinco de Mayo party?" Jenny demanded. Malista licked her lips, which felt suddenly dry. "Why do you want to know?" Jenny and Megan traded indignant looks. "Because if he did, we want to help you get even with him!" they chorused. "I warned him after that dance that he'd better leave you alone or we'd make him sorry," Megan added. Shadow was moved by their championship, but not sure how much she wanted to confide in her friends. The Delaneys were not known for their discretion. The three of them had become friends when the twins had taken her under their wings and done their best to teach her how to flirt and socialize with men. "Malista, did he---hurt you?" Jenny asked. "I know you might not want to tell Harry---" "No!" she protested. "George didn't---he didn't---" She gulped. "I did." She winced at the painfully embarrassing memory. Megan and Jenny stared at her. Lowering her voice to a whisper, Shadow leaned closer. "I tried to seduce him. I wanted him to teach me---you know." Jenny and Megan stared at her. Malista shifted uncomfortably. "It was all right---at first. But after a while--- when he was- -- uh, kissing me and...I called him---Harry." The twins flinched. "Oooh," they groaned in unison, wearing identical expressions of dismay. "Major mistake." The other woman nodded. "Tell me about it," she moaned. "That ruined the mood---and George told me no." "He didn't---" said Jenny. "He wouldn't---" Megan said. They thought that over for a moment as Malista fanned herself with a napkin, trying to cool off her blushing cheeks. She couldn't meet their eyes. "That rat!" Jenny seethed. "What?" That was not the reaction Shadow had expected. Her eyes rounded. "He rejected you!" Megan exclaimed indignantly. Malista frowned. "Well, actually, I'm kind of glad he did. I don't think Harry would have liked it if----" "And he hit Harry!" Megan added, knowing that would be a sore point for her friend. That comment relit the smoldering embers of Shadow's anger. "That's true. He did. And George promised not to tell anyone what happened---but he told Harry I was doing stupid things!" "That man is such a VOLE!" Jenny declared vehemently. "And he HIT Harry!" Malista reiterated, getting into the mood now. She could have forgiven Natwick for telling Harry to go to her---it had sped their reconciliation. But no one was allowed to hurt Harry! Not and get away with it! "You have to get even with him," Megan announced. "Revenge is a moral imperative," Malista agreed. "But how?" Megan and Malista looked at Jenny who had fallen silent. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth pursed as she pondered the form of revenge that would fit the crime. A wicked smile slowly crept across her whole face. "Oh, I have the best idea." With some trepidation, Shadow asked, "What do you think I should do?" "We, Malista. *We* are going to get Natwick," Delaney corrected. "Jenny, remember, he sort of did me a favor---I don't want to hurt him! He could have taken advantage---" "Oh, posh!" the redhead said scornfully. "We won't really hurt him. The best revenge is the one where they're hoisted on their own picard." Megan's expression went blank. Malista took a split second to process that remark then said, "I think the expression is 'hoist on his own petard'." Jenny focused on the brunette's face. "What? That doesn't make sense. What's a petard? It makes sense if it's picard. You know, like the captain of the Enterprise. He's not big, but believe me, he's tough! If you made *him* mad, he would hoist your---forget it! It doesn't matter. Computer, location of Ensign Natwick?" "Ensign Natwick is in Holodeck One." The trio spun and looked around Sandrine's. Sure enough. There he was. Natwick was sitting alone at a table on the opposite side of the room. They hadn't noticed him. He was glaring at the beer in his hand with a sullen expression that didn't welcome anyone to join him. "Oh, good," Jenny purred. "We'll start tonight." "Start what?" Malista asked cautiously. "Megan, remember what we did to Darok Pahkt at the Academy?" Her twin nodded. Jenny continued, "You don't have to do a thing, Malista. Megan and I will take care of everything." "Somehow I don't feel reassured by that, Jenny. What are you going to do?" Megan smiled. "Don't worry about it, Malista. You can trust Jenny." "I can trust Jenny to do what? I don't want George seriously hurt---physically or emotionally. And I don't want to be responsible for anyone else winding up in the brig!" Shadow protested. The Delaney sisters each patted one of her hands soothingly. "We owe you one. And Delaneys always pay their debts. Don't worry about it, Malista. All *you* have to do," Jenny explained, "is smile." "Smile?" "Yes," the elder twin replied. "Megan and I are going over to talk to Natwick and when he looks your way, I want you to smile at him." "Just smile?" she repeated dubiously. "Your sweetest smile," Megan corrected. "And if he asks you if you're out to get him, you deny it. With a smile. An icky sweet smile. Smile every single time you see him." "I don't understand." Malista eyed the pair indecisively. "You promise you won't do anything---rash?" Jenny and Megan batted their violet eyes at their tall friend. "Would we do that?" they chorused. "Yes!" Shadow exclaimed. "That's why I'm worried about it!" Megan pouted. "Darn, Jenny! She knows us pretty well." "Oh, come on, Malista! The best revenge is when you make them do it to themselves. We work best behind the scenes. We can be insidious." "Like with Freddie Bristow," Megan sighed contentedly. Malista's green eyes widened. "Freddie Bristow? *You* set him up? Is that why Diane Russell---" Two enigmatic smiles beamed her way. "Just smile sweetly every time you catch George looking at you. That's all you have to do," Jenny instructed. With an uncertain frown, Malista nodded and returned to her table. "What did they want?" Tom demanded as soon as Malista was in earshot. "To apologize," Shadow answered, reseating herself between Harry and B'Elanna. "They did that while you were sitting here," he argued. "Tom," his 'sister' said calmly, looking directly across the table and catching his eyes with a compelling stare. "What?" he muttered defensively. "Stop it. I know you got upset with them last night---" Torres snorted. "That's an understatement!" It had been the first time she'd seen Tom get close to really losing his temper---a cold state of fury. The thought of his transformation from easy-going charmer to icily furious terror still chilled her blood. Paris grimaced at her before returning his attention to his 'little sister'. "I don't like the way---" "They're my friends, Tom." Malista seemed to feel that settled the matter. She held his eyes with her own until he gave in with a sigh. Harry said nothing, but shifted uneasily in his seat. He wasn't terribly comfortable with the idea of Malista associating with the Delaneys either. The twins had actively encouraged her to date other men, causing Harry to suffer agonies of jealousy. And they had persuaded Malista to wear skimpy outfits! Not that Harry minded when they were worn for his viewing alone, but..... Paris opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed it again. "Okay. But don't expect me to like it when someone hurts you," he said finally. His eyes drifted toward Harry Kim purposefully. "When *anyone* hurts you." The ensign met his best friend's eyes squarely. "I don't plan on hurting her again, Tom. Or letting anyone else hurt her either." B'Elanna Torres clicked her tongue. "Both of you are getting carried away with this topic of conversation. Malista is a big girl. She can take care of herself." "That's right. I can. From now on, I intend to handle my own problems. So now, can we *please* change the subject?" Malista pleaded, shooting a distressed glance from one man to the other. "Okay," Paris said with a teasing smile. "As soon as you tell me what the Delaneys really wanted!" There was a hint of implacability in his eyes that made Malista wonder how anyone could fail to see the steel core of determination behind the surface patina of cordial charm. Malista lifted her chin defiantly. "They're going to help me get even with George Natwick." Harry and Tom traded glances. "I thought we settled this last night---" Kim began. "Good," B'Elanna stated firmly. "Natwick's an even bigger pig than you used to be, Paris!" She smiled to take the sting out of the remark. Tom gave up and shrugged. He didn't particularly like Natwick himself. He didn't feel any urge to warn or defend him. "Well, if anyone can take him down a peg, it's the Delaney twins. They make a fine art of it. Trust me, Harry, you NEVER want to get either one of them mad at you, much less both of them." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Tom frowned him down. Protecting George Natwick wasn't worth risking upsetting Malista and B'Elanna. The Delaneys wouldn't do any permanent damage---except maybe to Natwick's ego. Besides, they could manage to keep themselves out of the brig while exacting their revenge. Probably. Most likely. Well, maybe. If Jenny didn't get carried away. This time. Shadow glanced toward Natwick's table. Jenny and Megan were seated there on either side of him, talking away earnestly. He looked across the room at her. Malista obediently smiled as sweetly as she knew how---until a frowning Harry Kim slid his arm around her waist and turned her to face him. "What are you doing?" "Following directions," she said innocently. "Jenny said all I had to do was smile at George. So I did." "I'd rather you kept your smiles for me," Kim grumbled unhappily, only half joking. "You're the reason I *can* smile," she whispered, her green eyes studying his face as if to memorize each feature. Harry started to lean in for a kiss, but stopped when Tom cleared his throat. "We need to talk about these Public Displays of Affection, Mr. Kim. PDA's are non-regulation," he complained with brotherly disapproval. "And that's my sister you're mauling." "Mauling?" Malista exclaimed. She made a face at Tom. "Don't exaggerate. And mind your own business." "You're a fine one to talk, Mr. Paris!" Kim retorted, his eyes going to Tom's arm which was around B'Elanna's waist, his hand absent-mindedly caressing the curve of her hip. "I think you're both in need of help," Torres commented, catching Tom's hand with her own and placing it on the table. "Mental help." Malista gazed idly around the holodeck. Commander Chakotay entered Sandrine's and crossed her line of sight as he went to the bar to get a drink. "Oberon," Malista Shadow announced with a satisfied smile, directing the remark to Paris with the waggle of one eyebrow. "Oberon?" Harry Kim said disconcertedly. His inquiring look at B'Elanna Torres showed she was just as perplexed. Tom Paris, on the other hand, was frowning. He followed Malista's look and ran a skeptical eye over the first officer. "Oberon? Naw, I don't see it. He's three feet too tall, for one thing." "I'm not talking about a physical resemblance, although," Malista paused, "maybe the part about the angelic face is on target." Tom rolled his eyes dramatically. "I think you've got angels on the brain, Sis. You're seeing them everywhere. First me, then Harry---now Chakotay?" he added dubiously. "Angelic? With a *tattoo*?" He exaggeratedly shuddered his distaste for the idea. "What are you two talking about?" Torres demanded. "Sorry, B'Elanna. It's just a game Tom and I were playing when we first met. We were trying to match each crewmember up with a literary figure. We didn't make it through the whole list yet," Shadow explained. Harry grinned. "Yeah, I'm Gawaine." He squeezed Malista's hand. Torres tilted her head to one side curiously. "I take it that's a compliment? Who's Gawaine?" "King Arthur's nephew and a Knight of the Round Table," Harry replied. He'd had to do a database search to refresh his memory, but he didn't plan to admit to that. "And who am I?" the half-Klingon inquired pointedly. As he recalled the answer to her question, Tom's eyes widened and he stared at Malista, stalling for time. "Sis? Did we think of one for B'Ella?" He shook his head subtly. "Actually, you thought of two," she remarked with mock innocence, batting her long black eyelashes at him. Tom narrowed his eyes at her lack of cooperation. "Oh, yeah? I don't remember---and you'd better not either!" She lifted her chin at him mutinously. "Why not?" "Because if you do---I'll tell Harry---the *truth* !" he threatened in an ominous whisper. Harry and B'Elanna exchanged patient looks. They had no idea what Tom was talking about---but that had never stopped him before, or even slowed him down that they'd noticed. Malista tried to look properly horrified. "The truth? Oh, Tom, you wouldn't?!" "Oh, wouldn't I?" Tom chuckled evilly, rubbing his hands together, and twirling an imaginary mustache. "Harry, you wouldn't believe the names this woman was calling you- --just yesterday!" Malista's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she fought a grin. "You are such a liar!" she accused. "Don't listen to him, Harry! He's the one who was calling you names!" Tom looked indignant. "I did not! She was so mad at you she even started going through the alphabet! A for Aldebaran Serpent---OW!" He jumped as Torres elbowed his ribs--- again. "B'Elanna! Ribs are bones! Bones crack and break, you know?" he whined. "Big baby," she sniffed. "Stop changing the subject and answer the question. Who did you come up with for me? Or should I ask?" The last question was directed at Shadow. "The Dragon Lady of K'ruth BoTaz?" "Didn't think of that one." Tom pretended to be considering the legendary witch-like character of Klingon folklore. Malista smiled gently. "Well, when he was mad at you---" "Malista!" Tom protested. He reflexively snapped his arms down to protect his ribs and flinched away as Torres turned a threatening scowl towards him. "I guess that one didn't count," Shadow concluded, sharing a smile with Harry as she relented. "We finally decided that since Tom is Harlequin, you must be Columbine." "Who?" Torres attention shot back to Malista. "On Earth, in the theater, there are certain traditional characters. Harlequin was a comedic character that wore multi-colored tights---lots of bright colors. Columbine was the dancer that was Harlequin's sweetheart," Malista explained. "And you move very gracefully---like a dancer." B'Elanna nodded, unsure how to respond. She didn't deal with compliments well, but Tom had persuaded her that it was rude to argue when she was given one. She seemed to be considering the idea. After a moment, she said, "Okay. I'll accept that for now. Tom is a clown. That sounds about right." A hint of mischief danced in her brown eyes. "I'm a dancer. Harry is a knight in shining armor. What about you, Malista?" "Hey, that's right, Sis!" Paris exclaimed. "We never got one for you!" She raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought I was Madame DeFarge." She made knitting motions with her hands. "Guillotine!" she cackled, sounding like an old crone. Tom sent her a disapproving frown. "That was a joke. Hmm. I'll have to give this one some thought. What do you think, Harry? What literary figure does Malista remind you of?" "Aphrodite?" he offered, covering Malista's hand with his own as he gazed at her face with a gentle smile. "She's Greek---and beautiful," Harry elaborated. She could feel herself blushing furiously. "Harry!" Kim appreciated her modesty, especially since Malista snuggled up against him to hide her burning face in his neck. She was making a habit of that. One that he actively approved of. He kissed her cheek since it was within reach. He loved those high cheekbones. "Naw," Tom drawled disparagingly. "Malista's got arms." Harry and B'Elanna traded puzzled frowns. Shadow sat up and grimaced at him, sighing with exasperation. "Tom, that's Venus---the Venus de Milo," she elaborated to Harry, who nodded. Given that hint, he recognized the reference. "Everyone knows that Venus and Aphrodite are the same person," Paris objected. "Oh, come on! You couldn't tell that to the Romans and Greeks! Forget that. I don't want to argue," Malista demurred, eager to turn the conversation away from herself. "But just think about this one---if Chakotay is Oberon---does that mean Captain Janeway is Titania?" she inquired just a trace too innocently and bit her lip to contain her smile. Tom, who had just sipped his syntheholic beer, choked and spluttered into his mug. He rapidly set the drink down and coughed to clear his throat. B'Elanna 'helpfully' slapped him between the shoulders, almost laying him out across the table in the process. He shot a reproachful look her way. "What's so funny?" Shadow asked artlessly. "It seems reasonable to me." "I was just thinking," Tom panted, "of Midsummer Night's Dream. If Janeway is Titania-- -How about Neelix as---" "Bottom," Shadow supplied in unison with Tom, then dissolved in giggles. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and hiding her face in her hands as she tried to regain control---and get that image out of her mind. Harry placed a hand on her back and patted it gently. He missed the allusion, but beamed a smile at her. It was a relief to be with her and to see her happy again. "He already has the mane," Tom spluttered, holding his ribs as he wheezed. "Oh!" gasped Malista. "Don't tell Neelix! You'd hurt his feelings!" "And with those ears---Tuvok as Robin Goodfellow!" They met each other's eyes and shook with laughter again. Torres was shaking her head. Paris could get so silly sometimes---and now he had a partner in silliness. She didn't know what the two of them were going on about, but she was glad Tom was having fun. The last two weeks had been stressful for all four of them and strained their friendship with Harry almost to the breaking point. Harry and B'Elanna waited patiently until the other two recaptured their control. It took a few minutes. But they now had an inkling of how Tom had felt when the two of them had frequently gone off on conversational tangents about engineering problems---leaving Tom to sit on the sidelines until he could rejoin the discussion when it returned to less esoteric subjects. Malista finally straightened, wiping tears from her cheeks with her index fingers. "Well," she said, "at least Titania is better than your *first* suggestion for Captain Janeway." "What did he say?" Harry asked curiously. "Medusa!" Malista announced scathingly. "Now that's an interesting comparison, Mr. Paris," said Kathryn Janeway dryly. She had approached unnoticed and was standing two feet behind Harry and Malista, hands on her hips. "Would you like to explain the similarity?" Tom Paris could have kept it under control---maybe---if not for the look of absolute horror on Malista's face. Shadow didn't know the captain well and didn't recognize the teasing note in her voice. She was afraid she'd just gotten herself and her 'big brother' into deep, deep---trouble. Malista threw a frantic, contrite look at Tom, her mind racing as she tried to frame an acceptable apology. The pilot burst into helpless laughter, waving a hand at Janeway to indicate she should join them. Janeway walked around the table to stand next to Paris, shaking her head as she raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. Kim jumped to his feet with alacrity and pulled an empty chair over for her. She seated herself between Paris and Kim and waited politely for Tom to be able to speak again. Torres grinned. She could tell the captain was in a playful mood and ready to twist the knife. She and Tom were well-matched in wit and humor and it was always amusing to watch them square off. When Harry reseated himself, he gave his attention to reassuring Malista with a smile that the captain wasn't really upset. "Medusa?" the captain inquired softly and deliberately. Tom sobered. "It was meant as a compliment, Captain," he said earnestly. His most ingratiating smile---had no effect. "Oh, I'm sure it was." Her expression was totally deadpan. She nodded slowly, one hand reaching up to her red brown tresses. "I never thought my hair was particularly snake-like, Mr. Paris. Or was the reference to other aspects of my physical appearance?" "No, ma'am!" Tom snapped formally. "The reference had to do with---The Look---Captain Janeway, ma'am!" He was suddenly a caricature of the model junior officer addressing his captain. The only thing Tom didn't do was stand to attention. "The Look?" she repeated, imitating his emphasis. "Elaborate, Lieutenant." She raised one eloquent eyebrow. This was bound to be good. Tom's blue eyes were sparkling. "Captain," Malista began hesitantly, but stopped when Harry squeezed her hand and Janeway shook her head slightly. "He got himself into this, Crewman Shadow, let him dig his own way out," the captain advised kindly. Torres made digging motions behind Tom's back, indicating the hole was getting deeper. Kim grinned. Shadow tried to hide her anxiety. She was still somewhat in awe of the captain. She had only spoken to her once before in an off duty situation. Now she had insulted her to her face! Paris ostentatiously ignored the other three, all his attention centered on the captain. He gave her his most sincerely, honest expression. He overdid it perfectly, with the ease of long practice. "Captain, as you well know, The Look is a skill taught in Starfleet Command Training to ensure instant obedience to every order. Or another way to describe it---" He almost lost his composure again as his sense of humor tried to escape, but he choked it into submission, and continued in 'lecture' mode. "The Look, when properly given---in the excellent and exemplary manner in which *you* perform it---is capable of freezing a man in his tracks---and causing his blood to run backwards in his veins! That is what brought the Medusa reference to mind, Captain Janeway, ma'am!" Janeway mouth twitched as she fought off a smile. "The Look---as you call it---doesn't seem to have a noticeable effect on you, Lieutenant," she said speculatively. Paris nodded sagely. "Well, Captain, you could say I have built up a certain tolerance for The Look---an immunity---due to my family background. With all those Admirals and Captains running loose at family reunions...." "Running loose? That sounds disrespectful to me, Lieutenant," Janeway commented. "Sorry, Captain." The scapegrace grin was back. "The Medusa thing---it's part of a game." "Would someone like to explain the rules of the game to me?" she asked. "We're identifying the crew with literary figures," Tom explained. "So I'm---Medusa?" Kathryn mused. "Actually, Captain, we'd just decided you were Titania," Torres interjected. "Whoever that is. And Neelix is Bottom." She was pleased, but amazed when Janeway laughed. Evidently the captain caught the reference. Torres decided she needed to spend less time reading technical manuals and more time on literature. "We thought of it because Malista proposed Chakotay as Oberon," Harry explained. "Really?" Janeway asked, seeming intrigued by the notion. She sat forward and gazed at Shadow curiously. "What made you think of that?" Malista kept her gaze fixed on the table. "I-I was thinking of---he---Oberon was supposed to have the gift of insight---into men's thoughts. As a counselor, he sort of shows that he does and he---" "Has an 'angelic' face," Torres finished, with a smirk. All five of them ostentatiously turned to stare with exaggerated interest at the Commander who was standing at the bar conversing with Tuvok. Chakotay noticed. He resisted the spontaneous urge to check the condition of his uniform, and raised an eyebrow, tilting his head inquiringly. The captain waved a dismissive hand, so the first officer turned his attention back to his conversation with the Vulcan. He made a mental note to ask her later what was going on and why he was suddenly the object of attention. "Angelic?" Janeway murmured. "That isn't the word that I would have used to describe him." "Really?" Tom said impudently. "What word---would you use, Captain?" "Actually, I used the word bear-like." She speared him with her gray eyes. Unfazed, Tom quirked an amused eyebrow at her. "As in grizzly---or as in teddy?" She sent a quelling glance in his direction and promptly changed the subject. "Who else have we decided on? And who's left? Are you writing these down?" When the captain played a game, she entered into it wholeheartedly. The others enjoyed her joining in and none of them noticed how subdued Malista Shadow had become. She was experienced at fading into the background. All it took was smiling, nodding, and murmuring agreement often enough to keep others from noticing she wasn't really participating. Saying nothing was often the easiest way to avoid saying the wrong thing. ***************** After a morning of working on the aft sensor arrays, Lt. Susan Nicoletti accompanied Crewman Malista Shadow to the Security Office during their lunch break. Malista had asked Ensign George Natwick for workout programs for practicing her self-defense training. She'd hesitated to pick them up as promised because she felt awkward about facing him again alone. Nicoletti, her occasional partner in working Maintenance, had volunteered to go with her. She didn't trust George Natwick as far as she could throw the warp core and she wanted to be sure he wouldn't try anything. There were several good reasons why Nicoletti was occasionally referred to as Mama Bear, though never to her face. Natwick looked up from his terminal as they walked in and stood before his desk. His eyes made a quick inspection of Shadow and her attitude. Malista remembered Jenny Delaney's orders and smiled sweetly at him. His eyes narrowed. "Can I help you?" His voice was totally professional, but his intent was hard to read. He never took his eyes off Malista Shadow and ignored Sue Nicoletti as if she were invisible. "Yes, Ensign. You told me you had some self-defense workouts that I could borrow for use in the holodeck." Her tone was thoroughly business-like. He stared at her for a moment. "Oh. Yeah, uh, sure. Let me find them," he faltered. He began to paw through the desk drawer and produced three data crystals. He got to his feet and extended them toward Malista. As he dropped the crystals into her palm, his hand brushed hers and he captured her hand for a moment. "Are you all right?" he said in an undertone, ignoring Nicoletti's frowning surveillance. His brown eyes scanned her face as if trying to see beyond her polite mask of professionalism. Shadow tugged her hand free. "I'm fine, Ensign Natwick," she replied evenly. "Thank you. Is there anything I need to know about the programs?" He seemed to shake himself out of a light trance and dropped his eyes to the desk. "The numbers of each program indicate the difficulty level. One is the beginner program. As the numbers increase, so does the difficulty of the simulation---number of opponents, types of weapons---that kind of thing." Malista felt a wisp of her black hair escaping its anchor and reached up to push it back into place. Natwick's eyes darted to her hand and traced its movement, almost as if he expected her to pull a weapon on him. Shadow darted a glance at Nicoletti. Sue shrugged. She didn't know why the Security Officer seemed so edgy. Natwick reseated himself behind the desk, still staring at the women suspiciously. "Let me know if you need help with the programs." "I will. Thank you." Shadow turned to leave, but halted when he said her name. "Malista? I'm sorry about---you know." Her spine stiffened. She cast a look at him over her shoulder, but didn't turn. "What? For hitting Harry?" she asked scathingly. Natwick scowled. "He had that coming for the way he treated you. No, I meant---" His brown eyes went to Nicoletti again. "I meant I was sorry I said anything to him. I didn't intend to hit him. I was a little off balance emotionally at the time. When I saw him, I just-- -lost my temper. Something I haven't done in a long time. I didn't really intend to hurt him. I'm sorry. No hard feelings?" Nicoletti was watching the exchange impassively, but her mind was spinning. If she didn't know better, she would think George Natwick had serious feelings for Malista Shadow--- but was also afraid of her for some reason. Or at least concerned about her reaction to his behavior. That was a first. When not on duty, Natwick was known for going his own way, without regard for anyone's feelings or opinions. His was the original lone wolf personality. Malista, remembering Jenny Delaney's instructions, smiled as sweetly as she could manage. "Of course not, George. Why would there be any hard feelings?" The words were innocently spoken, but coupled with that smile---rang false in Natwick's ears. As they were meant to, though Malista wasn't really aware of that. As the door slid closed behind Nicoletti and Shadow, the ensign began to analyze the possible plans of attack Malista might use to take her revenge on him. Without trying hard, he'd come up with twenty-five different scenarios before the end of his shift. ***************** B'Elanna studied her surroundings. "This is it?" she asked sharply. "Not exactly," Tom replied. She watched as he lazily leaned forward with an outstretched hand and switched on the--- What was it he'd called it? Oh, yes. A radio. Some idiot started crooning stupid questions. 'Are the stars out tonight? I don't know if it's cloudy or bright---' B'Elanna reached out and snapped the radio off. "What did you do that for?" Paris complained. "It was ridiculous. Of course the stars are out. They're always out. If he'd look up, he'd see them---" The lieutenant slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. "B'Elanna, it's a song! Not a science class!" He sighed deeply. "Come on. Lean back. Relax." He dropped his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. "And do what?" she asked impatiently. "What kind of program is this?" Tom fought off another sigh. He'd bet a week's worth of replicator rations that the Doc hadn't had this much trouble with Denara Pel. "It's a leisure program, B'Elanna. You don't have to fight anyone, or scale anything, or chase something around in circles. You just sit here in this wonderful classic 1957 Chevy and look at the stars. And listen to some mellow music. Or enjoy the view of the colony below. Or---cuddle a little. Or a lot. Don't you *ever* just sit still and do absolutely nothing?" She pulled away from him and stared at him. It was *not* a happy stare. He decided his words were getting in the way more than they were helping. He tried letting his eyes speak for him. His blue eyes had a way with words. When his mouth didn't interfere. After a moment, she relaxed against him again, turning to rest her back against his muscular chest, her head lying on his shoulder. "All right, I'll *try* your *leisure* program." She paused. She tilted her head to look up at him, "But it's going to get boring, if this is all there is to it----" He fastened his lips onto hers. Her objections melted away in the sizzling sensations aroused by his kiss. Oxygen deprivation forced a brief intermission. "There is something to be said for relaxing," she purred. "Turn the music back on." He obeyed. "Now kiss me, Lieutenant Paris." Her smile was predatory. "Yes, ma'am!" He obeyed. With enthusiasm. ****************** Every day it seemed to get worse. The comments, the sly digs, the looks---especially the looks. Conversations stopped abruptly or made sudden detours in topic when she came into view. Malista was beginning to dread getting out of bed and reporting for duty. She felt half of the Alpha shift had nothing better to do than to try to pump her for information about her relationships with Harry Kim, Tom Paris, and B'Elanna Torres. Those who weren't curious, were judgmental and wanted her to feel the weight of their disapproval. She hadn't had to deal with so much attention since---since Huldon III. At that time, she'd been so physically and mentally traumatized that she'd hardly noticed the stares and whispers. And when she had been in a condition to do so, Niko Dishon had been there to run interference. She missed Niko and mourned his death. They hadn't had much in common, but he'd always been there. For five years, he'd protected her, shielded her, and even fought for her---to keep other people away. To keep other people from hurting her. It seemed that everywhere she went, someone was talking about her. She would walk into a room or out of the turbolift and everyone would stare. She didn't know what to do when that happened, so she tried to pretend she didn't see them, didn't hear them. She didn't answer their greetings, didn't speak to anyone. She stopped wearing makeup on duty and screwed her shoulder-length hair into an unflattering bun on the nape of her neck, trying to make herself as unattractive as possible, hoping to avoid attention. It didn't work. She didn't need makeup to draw attention to her good features. With her hair pulled back, her classical bone structure and wonderful pale gold skin were more easily admired. She tried her best to disappear into the crowd and go unnoticed but, for the first time in her life, she couldn't achieve anonymity simply by wishing for it. ***************** "I can't believe her attitude!" The exclamation came to Tom Paris' ears as he rounded the corner of the corridor on his way to Engineering. The unseen speaker was working in the Jefferies tube that he was passing. "Since when does being with the Senior staff give you the right to put on airs? She won't even speak to us common people any more. Who does she think she is? Some kind of princess?" The complainer went on, encouraged by a mumble from her companion. "Well, I can tell you I'm not going to speak to her either. She thinks she's fooling anyone? She's sleeping her way to the top. Everyone knows that." Tom directed a scornful glance at the hatch as he passed by. He detested gossips. If he'd thought it would do any good, he would confront them. But he'd learned from bitter experience that a confrontation just gave them more ammunition to lob---and sometimes a new target. He wondered idly who they could be talking about. Senior staff? The only women on the Senior staff were Captain Janeway, B'Elanna Torres, and Kes. It couldn't be Janeway. She was the top of the chain of command---no reason to 'sleep her way to the top'. Kes? Some people didn't like her because they found her telepathic abilities frightening, but---no, he didn't think it could be her. B'Elanna? Most people gossiped about her temper, not her private life. And anyway, her relationship with him wouldn't help her gain a promotion. It didn't add up. Paris shrugged. Some people could find insult in any behavior. Maybe B'Elanna or Kes had ticked someone off. A little gossip wouldn't do any harm. He decided to ignore it. If he'd lingered a little longer, he would have solved the mystery of the identity of the object of discussion. The second person in the access crawl way finally gave his opinion. "I think she's intimidating. She towers over me and the way she looks at me with those cold green eyes---I've seen warmer expressions on statues!" His partner laughed as they went back to work. "Well, if Harry Kim wants to cuddle up to an overgrown marble sculpture---it's his loss. Now if he wants a real woman---" "You'd volunteer for that duty? I knew you were interested in him for yourself." ************************** Torres was nowhere in sight when Tom Paris entered Engineering. He caught the eye of the nearest engineer and asked for her. Susan Nicoletti pointed up to the second level. Paris thanked her and started for the lift. A sudden flurry of loud Klingon epithets drifted downward from above---not falling gently on anyone's ears. Tom's eyebrows rose and he hurried to the lift. Now he knew why everyone else in the department had found work to do on the lower level. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the open access panel in the bulkhead. When he got closer to the source, he could identify the epithets as being directed at a recalcitrant lubricant container that was oozing slimy liquid all over the chief engineer's hands. It was quite evident from the appearance of the container that ---probably in a fit of pique---she had squeezed it much too tightly, forgetting the strength her Klingon heritage afforded her. The seams had burst. Hearing his footsteps, she turned a glare in his direction. "Don't-you-dare-laugh!" she rapped out vehemently. She felt self-conscious, inept, and embarrassed to have him or anyone else see her make such a silly, clumsy mistake. She was just glad that no one else was working in the area. Widening his eyes as much as possible, Paris shook his head silently. He saw a cleansing towel resting on a table nearby and handed it to her without comment. He deftly scooped up the container and placed it in a small trash receptacle---without getting a speck of lubricant on himself, of course. Torres thought it was resoundingly unfair that Tom Paris always looked so perfectly groomed and elegant. And even when he didn't, he always looked good. At times, she felt like a disheveled mess standing next to him. Slightly mollified by the lack of teasing, she wiped her hands clean. When she finished, he extended a hand towards her. Eyes slightly narrowed, she placed her small hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Well?" She was certain he wouldn't be able to resist a comment. She was braced for it. He crooked a long, slender finger at her. She frowned and took a step closer. "What? Have you lost your voice? The ship couldn't get that lucky." His brow wrinkled in a distressed expression. At times he looked about four years old. This was one of those times. His blue eyes looked---piteous. "Tom, what's the matter?" She was beginning to be concerned. His eyes darted around to be sure they were alone. He crooked his finger at her again. She took another step closer and stretched on tiptoe to incline her ear to catch his whisper, "I think I hurt myself." She stared at him, brown eyes rounding. "What? How?" He leaned closer and whispered even more quietly, "You told me not to laugh. I think I hurt myself trying not to." He put a small whimper in his words. For a split millisecond---she bought it. Then his meaning sank in. He began to chuckle at the expression on her face as she stepped back and clenched her fists. She could feel herself flushing as her temper swiftly soared. "You---!" She couldn't think of an epithet strong enough. She took a swing at him. Tom was no fool. He was ready for her reaction. He ducked back---just enough so that her fist missed his jaw by a centimeter. "Now, Torres, watch your temper!" he said soothingly. She advanced on him, still glaring. He stopped retreating---for good reason. His back was to the wall. Torres couldn't believe he was still grinning---Smile Number Seven---the goofy grin that said his sense of humor had been unexpectedly tickled. She was almost nose to nose with him. He still hadn't lost that grin. She was trying to hold onto her annoyance, but that grin and those admiring blue eyes were getting to her. "What are you smirking at, Helmboy?" she snarled. "You. You look cute when you're dirty, B'Elanna," he said simply. There was no retreat, no hiding in his expression. He reached out a tentative hand to wipe a small splotch of lubricant from her cheek. "Klingons do NOT look *cute*," Torres stated emphatically, trying not to let him see how thoroughly the compliment disarmed her. Or the effect his slightest touch had on her equilibrium. He shook his head slightly. "Maybe Klingons don't---but you do." He suddenly looked thoughtful. "Remind me to introduce you to my mud pie program. It could be fun. Childish, but fun. And you'd look---cute." Now Smile Number Five took over---the wicked smile that invited you to follow him right into mischief. "Cute?" she repeated. His eyes surveyed the room once more. They were out of sight, if not out of hearing of the others in Engineering. He leaned forward and brushed a teasingly light kiss across her lips. "Definitely cute." "I'm not playing in any mud, Paris!" "Too bad. Wiggling your bare toes in the mud is a lot of fun." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "And cleaning up afterwards---" "Did you come up here to make me lose my temper? Or was there a reason that you came to Engineering?" She felt better. It was nice to know she couldn't intimidate Tom or scare him away with her flash of temperament. It made her feel more secure in their---friendship. "Actually, I wanted to help you check the navigational deflector. It's begun giving false readings or producing some kind of echo effect....." They settled down to work. ************************** Chakotay checked his chronometer again. She was definitely late. This was a first. Since he'd begun counseling sessions with Malista Shadow, she'd always been prompt. He slapped at his commbadge. "Commander Chakotay to Crewman Shadow." There was a pause--just a bit longer than usual---then the reply. "Shadow here." "Crewman, did you forget your appointment with me?" the first officer asked patiently. "No, sir," she replied rapidly. "I'm on my way. I'm---running a little behind schedule. Sorry." "Chakotay out." He frowned thoughtfully as he seated himself at his desk. It had been almost a week since Malista had met with him. He hoped she would be more forthcoming this time. He'd had the feeling at their last session that she wasn't being totally honest with him. They seemed to have hit a roadblock of some kind in her counseling sessions. He couldn't help her if she wouldn't cooperate. He busied himself with a personnel report as he waited for her arrival. About twenty minutes later, more than thirty minutes late for her appointment, Malista Shadow entered Chakotay's office. She was in uniform and still carrying her toolkit. Chakotay glanced up and studied her appearance. There were signs that the young woman was tired---the faintest hint of purplish semicircles under her eyes, her hair escaping from the loose ponytail lying on her back. She was good at hiding her feelings. If he hadn't known her for years, he would have missed the signs himself. She also seemed on edge as she made her way to the seat across from him. "Malista," he said by way of greeting. He waited. Patience was a definite virtue for a counselor. She attempted a smile, but it wasn't convincing. "Commander, I apologize. I got busy repairing a---" She hesitated. Frowning, she went on, "I'm sorry. My mind just went blank---oh, a computer relay in the ship's library. Russell's had several problems with the consoles. We're trying to adapt to some of the new replacement parts we got on Dynos Six. I seem to have been spending a lot of my shift there lately. I, uh, lost track of time." Chakotay nodded silently. He waited. His silence increased her nervousness. "Was there something in particular that you wanted to talk to me about today, Commander?" She forced herself to sit back in the chair, striving to appear relaxed and at ease. The first officer's silence stretched on. He watched as she began to drum her fingers on the arm of the chair---only to stop abruptly when she noticed what she was doing. She flashed a look at him as if caught in an indiscretion, then caught her lower lip between her teeth and began to gnaw on it. "Chakotay?" The word was almost a plea. Finally. She was ready to drop the facade. "Malista, what's going on?" She slumped forward, resting her hands on the edge of the desk. "Oh, Chakotay," she sighed wearily. She raised her eyes to meet his. Tears began to gather, but she blinked rapidly to hold them at bay. "Is it Harry?" The first officer deliberately chose the least likely problem. He wanted to get her started talking, hoping that once started she would continue. She shook her head, chewing her lower lip once more. She took a deep breath. "Harry is--- the best thing that ever happened to me. He's just so---" Words seemed to fail her. "So he's not the reason you look worn out? The reason you were late today? The reason you look so miserable?" the first officer prodded. "No. It's just that when---since Harry and I made up," she said unhappily, "a lot of people have been---commenting. They're talking about us----about me." "And what are they saying?" "Gossip. I don't know. I don't want to know!" she wailed. "Half the time they stop talking when I get close enough to hear them." "Then how do you know they're talking about you?" She tossed him an exasperated frown and jumped to her feet, beginning to move restlessly around the room. "The way they look at me. Everywhere I go---they stare. They don't talk to me. They just---watch me. Like I should be on a slide under a microscope! And the ones who do talk to me---talk AT me!" "How many people are we talking about? The whole crew?" "What? What does that matter?" She was puzzled and angry at the same time. "I'm trying to get an idea of the extent of the problem," he explained softly. "You think I'm lying?" she accused. He shook his head. "I didn't say that. Until recently, you've kept yourself fairly isolated. Now that you're begun interacting socially with the crew, you should expect to feel a certain lack of privacy. I think you might be exaggerating..." "I am not! Chakotay, you don't know---the things they say---" "Why do you listen?" he asked reasonably. "Do you value their opinions?" She stopped in her tracks and pivoted slowly to face him. She leaned her fists on his desk and leaned down to push her face within six inches of his. "No. I just want to be left alone. I want everybody to leave me alone! I want everybody to mind his or her own business. What do you expect me to do? You and Captain Janeway ordered me to socialize! So I socialized! Now I'm tired of it!" Chakotay raised his eyebrows, and still in his quiet voice, replied, "You're going to be on this ship for a very long time, Malista. Part of being a member of the Voyager family is taking the bad along with the good. It's a small community---so we take care of each other. But because it's a small community, we also know each other's business. And sometimes that can cause some pain and a lack of privacy. Most of these people are well-meaning. Give it time. The furor will die down. They'll find something else to talk about." She straightened and moved away from him to the center of the room. Her eyes closed as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Okay. Fine. So I'll get used to it. Is that what you're telling me?" She came back to her chair and sank into it, elbows resting on her knees, head in her hands. "In a way. You need to develop a thicker skin. Maturity comes when you realize you can't please everyone. You have to pick and choose those you want to please and you should start with yourself." He didn't think she was listening so he tried a different tack. "Do you have too much time on your hands?" Her head jerked up at that. He could have sworn he detected a twinge of apprehension. "What do you mean?" He folded his arms and watched her silently for a moment. She began to fidget. "I simply meant that you had been working two shifts for some time. Now that you're working only one---" His dark eyes zeroed in on her. "I thought you might have more free time than you want." "Why? What do you think I should be doing with my extra time?" "Giving Neelix cooking lessons?" She grinned at that. Chakotay raised his hands, palms up. "I thought you might like to take another class. Maybe do some cross-training. Have you thought about that?" She sank back in the chair and eyed the ceiling for a moment. "I wondered about maybe--- do you think the doctor would train me as a field medic?" Chakotay nodded. "I think that can be arranged. May I ask why?" "Sometimes Sickbay gets really busy. And if Tom can't be spared from the bridge, it's just Kes and the Doctor---and if the computer went down----" She made a gesture with her hand. "I just thought I could be useful. My father said I wasn't smart enough for medical school, but maybe I could at least learn first aid. Or I'm big for a woman and I'm strong. I could help the injured get to Sickbay." The first officer was perturbed to read between the lines and see the lack of self-esteem underlying her low expectations of herself. "I'll talk to the doctor about arranging your lessons. Malista, is something else bothering you? Something other than curiosity and gossip?" He was picking up on something he couldn't identify---a source of uneasiness in her that set off a small sensor alert in his mind. She folded her arms across her chest, a defensive gesture she seemed to have picked up from Tom Paris. "What makes you ask?" "Malista, you're supposed to be telling me what's bothering you," the first officer chided gently. "That's the purpose of these counseling sessions." "You told me I needed to learn to handle my own problems," she reminded him. "That's what I'm trying to do. You told me I needed to become independent and self-sufficient--- not depend on someone else to rescue me or protect me all the time. Are *you* trying to take Niko's place now?" "Malista---" Chakotay broke off, pausing to rethink his words. He hated having them quoted back at him out of context. "There's a difference in becoming too dependent on others and being too independent to ask for help when you need it. Everyone needs help occasionally. I just meant you shouldn't make a habit of it." She was gnawing on her lower lip again, a sure sign of anxiety or distress. She nodded. "Do you have a problem you need help with?" he asked after giving her a moment to think it over. She shook her head. "No. Not now. I'm not sure. Maybe." She almost smiled. "Great. I'm back to comprehensive answers." She ignored his questioning look at that comment. "Chakotay, let me think about it. Maybe I'm blowing the whole thing out of proportion. If I find I need help---I'll let you know." Chakotay wasn't satisfied. He could tell there was something serious bothering her, but evidently she wasn't ready to discuss it. "All right, Malista. See you next week? Same time?" A glint of mischief peeked out of her green eyes. "No. Next week, I'll be on time. I swear." He smiled. ********************* Diane Russell, ship's librarian, put down her mug and glanced from one man to the other. "I don't understand why you're so worried about Malista Shadow. She and Harry are back together again. Isn't everything right with her world again?" "She was crying last night when she left his quarters," Gerron stated flatly. "That's the third time this week." Dalby scowled at the young man. "Yeah? You're sure, Tem?" "Of course, I'm sure. I passed her on my way back from the Holodeck," the young Maquis said with a trace of exasperation. "Her eyes and nose were red. I know what a woman who's been crying looks like." Dalby's eyes narrowed. "She's a nice kid. If he's just using her---" Diane took his hand in hers and shook it a little to focus his attention on her. "Aron, I've seen her with him at Sandrine's. She always looks fine. She seems happy to me." The older Maquis' eyes softened as they rested on the woman he loved. "Diane, you weren't one of us. You don't know Malista Shadow very well. She's very good at pretending everything is all right. She hides herself, but she's vulnerable. I don't want anyone taking advantage of her---not even a Starfleet officer!" Gerron nodded. "I might be the youngest Maquis chronologically---but Malista is definitely the youngest in---other ways," he mumbled. "She may act like she's happy when she's with him, but you just take a look at her when she's on duty. She doesn't hum or sing any more. She always did that when she was working. She freezes up. She looks---grim. Whenever *he* isn't around to keep her in line." "I don't know why you're so sure that he's the problem. It could be something or someone else. Harry Kim has always seemed like a nice man to me," Russell protested weakly. She'd occasionally helped him with research, but she didn't know the Operations Officer well. She didn't feel as if she could speak in his defense with any authority. It was hard to know what some men were capable of---behind closed doors. The image of Lon Suder crossed her mind and she shivered. Aron Dalby, concerned, leaned forward and put his arm around her shoulders. "Are you okay?" Diane smiled up at him. Others had told her that Aron was a hotheaded, ill-tempered, uncontrollable troublemaker and that it was a mistake to get involved with him. She had given him a chance and found that those advice-givers didn't know the real Aron Dalby. Maybe he could be all those things, but he could also be sweet and protective---with her. Another example of how public and private persona didn't always match up in the eyes of the beholders. "I'm fine," she murmured. "I was just thinking---no one knew what Lon Suder was capable of---until he murdered Frank Darwin. Maybe Harry does have a darker side---that no one knows about." "What can we do about it?" Gerron asked. Dalby looked at his young friend. "Nothing. Now. But if and when Malista asks for help-- --" "Why wait?" the young Bajoran demanded. He'd dated Malista one evening as a favor to Megan Delaney. He'd even kissed Malista goodnight. A platonic kiss. There was no chemistry between them. They'd had a good time, though she really wasn't his type. Megan was his type, if she'd ever notice... "Because right now she'd defend him---no matter how he's treating her when they're alone together," Dalby explained. "If she's pretending nothing's wrong, she's trying to protect him---or she's accepting his treatment of her." His tone sharpened. "Did you see any bruises?" "Aron!" Diane protested. "I think you're both jumping to conclusions. There are several explanations for why she'd be crying---" "Name one," Dalby challenged. "She could be crying about losing Niko Dishon. He was her best friend for years and some people grieve for a long time. Or she could be upset because she's homesick---or all those stupid rumors about her having an affair with Tom Paris." Diane's face pinkened as she added the final excuse. "You have a crush on him, don't you?" Dalby said, drawing his arm away. "Harry?" Diane asked, feigning innocence. "Tom Paris!" Diane dimpled as she gently insinuated her arms around his waist, ignoring his slight resistance. "I did. Past tense. Tom's a very attractive man. But he was never more than friendly---with me. I got over my crush on him---the day you asked me out." "Really?" the Maquis said skeptically, hoping to be convinced. "Uh-huh." She frowned as she rested her cheek on his shoulder and gazed up at him thoughtfully. "Tom Paris? The name sounds sort of familiar. Remind me? What does he look like? The only face I can remember is yours." Dalby growled at her under his breath, a promise to be kept later in a less public locale. She did not tremble with fear. Gerron Tem sighed, feeling a little lonely. He liked Malista Shadow. And she was Megan Delaney's friend, as well as a fellow Maquis. He planned to keep an eye on Shadow---and on Harry Kim---just in case. **************************** Harry Kim got into the turbolift and found Tom Paris there, already on his way back to the bridge after his lunch break. Paris noticed Kim's irritated glance at him. "What? What are you looking at?" "It's all your fault, you know," Kim said sourly. "What?" The lieutenant crossed his arms with exaggerated patience, waiting for his friend's accusation. "What did I do now?" "You suggested a reading list for Malista," the ensign complained. "All your favorites you said. And she wants to read every one of them because you suggested it. Heaven forbid she skip a single one of your recommendations!" "She wanted to catch up on what she's missed. Her colony didn't have an extensive library. So what?" "So now she keeps reading these wonderful works of literature that *you* suggested---and crying her eyes out! To Kill a Mockingbird? Tom, it's a tearjerker!" Harry scowled at him. "It took me twenty minutes to calm her down when she got to the part where---" "Hey, she wants to read great literature! A lot of it is depressing!" Tom explained. "Those people lived in depressing times. The only non-depressing stuff is children's literature and she's already read Carroll, Milne, and C.S. Lewis." "Tom." "Harry. Okay, you want a little relief? I'll tell her to switch the order on the list. Let's see," he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as he searched his memory. "I'll tell her to read The Adventures of Tom Sawyer---no, that's got a funeral scene and Muff Potter on trial. How about Ivanhoe--? No. I've got it---Little Women---no, wait. Beth dies. Harry, there aren't any good stories without tragedy!" Paris grumbled. "Unless you want her to read Vulcan literature. I'm sure Tuvok----" "No, thanks," Kim said hastily. Paris smiled smugly as the turbolift doors opened onto the bridge. ************************* The Maquis had joined the Starfleet crew, but there was still a sense of camaraderie from shared experiences that bonded them. Word quickly spread among them that Malista was struggling somehow. Though she knew them and they knew her from serving with them on the smaller ship, she couldn't really say many of the Maquis were actually friends. But she was one of them---so they silently closed ranks behind her. Her fellow Maquis were accustomed to her silence and lack of social skills, so she began to use some of them as shields. She didn't want to walk the corridors alone. Someone might speak to her, and she wouldn't know what to answer. Without a deliberate plan or a word being spoken about the reasons why, she found herself sitting with them in the messhall during her lunch break. Or one of the Maquis was suddenly going the same direction whenever she went from one place to another. She was escorted to her destination---and they didn't expect conversation from her or ask embarrassing questions. The Maquis had a tradition of accepting others--- no questions asked. It was as if the Maquis had designated themselves her bodyguards and were standing between her and the Starfleet crew. Sometimes Malista felt like a Kalinthian Beetle---whose shell had been ripped away, leaving the tender tissues exposed to danger. She didn't know how to deal with this. And she had to deal with it alone. If she told Harry or Tom---she didn't want to think about their reactions. And if B'Elanna---no! She had caused quite enough trouble for the three of them. She would have to deal with this herself. She wasn't a child. It was time---and past time---for her to learn to handle her own problems. It might be easier if she could get a good night's sleep. Lately, that had been impossible. Three or four hours of sleep a night seemed to be all she could manage. She sighed tiredly and threw all her concentration into her work. There was always something that needed to be done to repair or maintain Voyager. ********************* The chief engineer was afraid she was losing her memory. She'd been so positive---Torres studied the computer screen with a scowl. She scrolled back through the log of repair requests. She hadn't imagined it. There it was---a request to check the environmental controls in the airponics bay. And the slight malfunction in the Science Lab's spectral analysis unit. And the need for adjustments to the gravity controls of the ecosystem sphere needed for the Biology Department's experiments. All three of the assignments were still listed as unassigned and uncompleted. Then why had the repair teams she sent out just reported that all three assignments had been executed before they got there? B'Elanna shook her head. She knew Engineering had been thrown into turmoil with the problem of defective power couplings. She hadn't thought she'd lost her grip on the reins to this extent. Reaching down, she tapped a few keys and marked those repairs completed. She checked the list and called her repair teams to give them new assignments. One thing was for sure, there was always something that needed to be repaired or maintained on this ship. She'd just have to be more careful about logging them to avoid wasting time. ********************* Harry had just finished his shift. He couldn't wait to get to Deck Four. He hadn't seen Malista all day. It was strange, but he missed her. He'd seen her less than twenty-four hours ago. He'd walked her home from Sandrine's and spent several long and pleasurable minutes kissing her goodnight just inside the doorway of her cabin before calling it a night. He shook his head. He couldn't believe how quickly he'd adapted to having someone to--- to be with. To care for. To love? The thought occurred to him that with Libby, it had taken him over a year to reach this level of comfort. Like a fond memory, he put Libby from his mind. He'd finally managed to say goodbye to her. He wished her well. But his future was here. On Voyager. With Malista Shadow. He felt a wide smile breaking across his face as he stepped into the turbolift. "Deck four." It was uncommonly quiet. He became aware of others in the turbolift. No one was talking. That struck Harry as odd. For some reason, he subconsciously had the impression that there had been a conversation in progress when he entered the lift. Ensign Dharn, a Maquis from the Geology Dept. was staring at him. Frowning and staring at him. Kim raised his eyebrows. "Something wrong, Dharn?" "What could be wrong, Kim?" There was a note in the other man's voice that almost seemed surly. "I don't know or I wouldn't have asked," Harry said shortly. The turbolift arrived at Deck Four. "And right now, I don't care." He stepped out, leaving Dharn and his annoying attitude behind. He'd forgotten about the whole incident before he even reached Malista's cabin. He hit the door signal, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to answer. He heard a faint response. "Come in." The door slid open and as Harry stepped into her living area, he was hit by the most amazing aroma---his mouth began to water reflexively. "Malista?" he called. "What is that?" "You're early. I haven't had time to change or put on makeup. Don't look!" She appeared in the doorway to her sleeping area. She was wearing black knee-length shorts and an emerald green tee-shirt that matched her eyes. Her cheeks and chin were lightly dusted with a white powdery substance. Her shoulder-length ebony hair was caught up in an untidy ponytail. She looked about 18 years old. "You look wonderful. You always do. Something smells good." Kim sniffed the air again. "I hope you're talking about the moussaka." "The what?" Harry asked, smiling puzzledly. "Moussaka," she replied, coming forward to kiss him quickly on the lips. He caught her chin and framed her face with his hands. "Moussaka?" he repeated. He lightly brushed her cheekbones with his thumbs. "Does that explain the flour on your face?" "No," Malista smiled impishly. She turned her head from side to side, kissing his palms. "The flour is because of the gingerbread I'm still mixing. We're having that for dessert." "Gingerbread? For me?" Harry was deeply touched. He'd told Malista that one of his fondest memories of his grandmother had been making gingerbread with her. He pulled Malista closer into a hug. Gingerbread was one comfort food Neelix hadn't attempted--- yet. Harry hated to think how Neelix' version of gingerbread would taste. For a brief moment, she rested her head against his shoulder. She returned his hug, squeezing him tightly, almost desperately. 'As if she doesn't want to let go,' he thought. He drew back and tried to look into her eyes. She evaded his glance and stepped back. "Come on, you can help me roll out the gingerbread and cut them out." "Them? Really? We're making gingerbread *men*?" Harry was distracted for a moment. "Oh, wait, weren't we supposed to meet Tom and B'Elanna in the messhall for dinner?" She peered into a mirror and removed the last traces of flour. "We didn't have firm plans, did we? I made more than enough moussaka. If you like, you can invite them to join us. *If* you're willing to share your gingerbread men with Tom. You know he has a sweet tooth," she teased, meeting his eyes at last. Nothing but amusement and affection showed in hers now. Harry shook his head at her audacity in teasing him. She was opening up to him---he could only think of the analogy of a rosebud in bloom. She was blossoming, her petals unfolding as she learned to reach out to him, to Tom, to B'Elanna. She had been closed off from everyone for so long. He set aside the little twinge of disquiet that made him think she wasn't being entirely open with him and hit his commbadge. "Kim to Paris." "Go ahead." Tom's pleasant tenor came through the commlink. "Tom, I know we didn't exactly have dinner plans----" Kim began. "I thought we were meeting at the messhall?" Tom queried, his voice muffled momentarily. It sounded like he was moving around as he was speaking, his voice gaining and losing volume. "Tom, where are you?" "In my quarters. Changing clothes. Why?" Kim exchanged smiling glances with Shadow. "Do you think you and B'Elanna could bear to give up one of Neelix' meals? Malista has been cooking---" "Sure!" Paris interrupted rapidly. "I wouldn't want to hurt my sister's feelings by turning down her invitation." "Yeah, sure," Harry agreed. "So you'll bring B'Elanna?" "Be there in fifteen minutes!" "Don't you want to know what's on the menu?" Malista called out. "Just promise me there's no leola root, Sis, and I'll be a happy man!" Tom replied. "See you in fifteen minutes, Tom!" "Paris out." ******************** Later that evening, Tom and B'Elanna walked into Sandrine's arm in arm. It had become a common sight. Chakotay waved them over to his table. Paris stifled a sigh. He liked the first officer. Okay, so he had *grown* to like and respect the first officer, but there were times---especially when he was with B'Elanna---that Paris didn't particularly want to spend time with Chakotay. Chakotay was alone. Paris seated B'Elanna and went to get their drinks from the bar along with a refill for the commander. As he set the tray on the table and pulled up a chair, Chakotay and B'Elanna were discussing ship's gossip. "I haven't heard anything," Torres was saying, "but I've been out of the loop with supervising double shifts in Engineering for the last few weeks." Chakotay turned to Tom. "Have you noticed anything unusual, Tom?" It still gave the pilot a slight start to hear the first officer call him by his first name. "Not really. I did hear some gossip being exchanged about someone 'sleeping her way to the top'---but then that rumor has been around since the dawn of time." The commander frowned. "Who were they talking about this time?" Tom thought for a moment. "Sorry. I can't remember. I just heard it in passing. I think I had the impression they meant Kes or B'Elanna---but I don't know---hey, I didn't say it!" he added defensively as Torres turned a scowl upon him. "Oh, yeah. They said something about the Senior Staff. And I thought---maybe they didn't mean---I'm sorry. I didn't really pay much attention. Gossips are NOT my favorite people." B'Elanna slipped her hand into his. She understood that statement very well. Tom Paris had been a favorite target of most of the gossips on this ship from the beginning of his posting to Voyager. In fact, until she had gotten to know him better herself, she had believed many of the false rumors about him. Tom squeezed her hand gratefully, not taking his eyes from Chakotay's. Chakotay noticed the silent offer of support and its acceptance. He felt it was a good sign. He sighed. "Crew evaluations and promotion recommendations have been on everyone's minds lately. Maybe that's the source for that rumor. It could have been about anyone." "So what's got you worried?" Torres asked. Chakotay raised an eyebrow. "Without being obvious about it, take a look around this room." Paris and Torres did exactly that, taking note of those present and their activities. There was nothing unusual going on---a pool game, a card game in one corner, most people sitting together as couples or small groups, talking and drinking. "I don't get it," Torres said impatiently. Paris nodded slowly, looking at Chakotay. "Oh. I do. B'Elanna, look at the composition of the groups." "Comp---what?" B'Elanna stood and revolved, slowly staring at each table in turn. So much for subtlety. She plopped back in the chair and glanced from the pilot to the first officer. "So what? Male, female. Mixed groups. What are you getting at?" Paris sighed. Sometimes his love could be astonishingly narrow of vision. Unless the matter in question involved a technical or engineering problem. "B'Elanna, the Maquis and the Starfleet crews aren't mingling. The Maquis are all at those tables to the right of the bar. The 'Fleeters are all to the left and in the center." "What's going on, Chakotay?" she demanded. "I don't know. I was hoping you did. It was too much to hope it might be something simple, I guess," he said, sipping his syntheholic beer. "I've noticed increasing tension the last couple of weeks. But no one's talking. I can't get a straight answer out of anyone. I'd hoped you might have heard something." "I'm too busy to hear anything," Torres snorted. "And they're busy talking about Paris---- not to him!" "Hey!" Tom protested reflexively, but subsided when she shot him a smile. "I'll figure it out eventually," Chakotay stated. "So what have you two been up to? I haven't seen you in the messhall for dinner for the last couple of nights." "Malista has been doing the cooking. And, oh, Chakotay, what you have missed! Have you ever had moussaka?" Tom patted his flat, muscular stomach for emphasis. The first officer smiled wryly. "No, I don't believe I have. What is it?" "A Greek dish. Ground lamb with sliced eggplant. And we had rice pilaf and fried zucchini, with gingerbread men for dessert." Tom licked his lips as he reminisced about his latest repast. "Gingerbread? Is that part of Greek cuisine?" Chakotay asked. "No, but it's Harry's favorite," Torres replied. "And what did *you* have for dinner, Commander?" Her brown eyes snapped with mischief. Chakotay grimaced. "Pleeka rind stew. Again." "Aw," Tom groaned with mock sympathy. "Too bad." "I may have a talk with your 'sister', Mr. Paris. It may be bad for morale if the crew finds out how well she cooks and that they aren't invited to share the meals," Chakotay teased. "She could at least invite me." B'Elanna sniffed. "I don't know what the fuss is about. Anyone can cook. It's not that hard." Chakotay sputtered into his beer. "B'Elanna! That from you---of all people!" Sensing a good story, Tom closed in. "Oh? There's something I need to know?" "No!" B'Elanna said with a threatening glance at her commander. "Yes," he corrected. "Tom, you're looking at the only Starfleet cadet in Academy history who managed to burn----" Torres surged to her feet and flounced away with a searing glance over her shoulder at both men. She headed for the bar. Chakotay and Paris exchanged glances. "Oops?" "She's on a short fuse," Chakotay commented. "Any idea why?" "I'm not sure. Overwork? She has been working awfully hard. I tried to get her to relax, but---" Tom shrugged. "Or jealousy?" the first officer speculated. Tom squinted at him. "I beg your pardon? Jealousy? Now, wait just a minute, Chakotay--- " He stopped as Chakotay held up a placating hand. "I don't mean you've given her reason to be jealous. Think about it, Tom. You're bragging about someone else's cooking and I start to tell a story that makes her out to be a lousy cook." "You think she's jealous----of Malista?" Tom was incredulous. That would never have occurred to him. "Just think about it. B'Elanna is very competitive----" "No, really?" said Tom with heavy sarcasm. "I never noticed that!" Chakotay's patience held. "Malista can cook. B'Elanna can't. Malista can knit. B'Elanna isn't good at that kind of thing either. Malista doesn't lose her temper. B'Elanna blows up easily. If she thinks you're comparing them---maybe she feels---inadequate." "That's ridiculous! I've never said or done anything to---Let's just see about that!" Tom said indignantly and strode over to the bar. Torres pointedly ignored him, keeping her eyes on her drink. "We need to talk," Tom said flatly. He was not going to take 'no' as an answer. Torres ignored him. "Fine. If you want to talk here," Tom's volume increased as he went on, "then we'll TALK HERE WHERE EVERYBODY CAN HEAR---" Torres stabbed him with a glare as her hand flew up to cover his mouth. Satisfied that he was silenced, she spun on her heel and strode out of the holodeck, leaving it to him to follow---or not. Paris was right behind her all the way to her quarters, neither of them speaking. She stalked into her living area and turned to face him, hands on hips. "You wanted to talk?" "Yes," Paris snarled, his easygoing charm had been left behind in the holodeck. "I do want to talk. You want to tell me what the hell *that* was all about?" "What?" she snapped. "We seem to be having a good time, then Chakotay starts to tell a joke that might make you look bad---and all of a sudden you're in some kind of Klingon snit! That's what! Where's your sense of humor? What's the problem?" "I am NOT in a Klingon snit!" she seethed. "Then what do you call it?" he asked sardonically. "Heaven forbid, we should use the wrong terminology!" "What's that supposed to mean?" She pounced on his words. "Are you making fun of my limited vocabulary?" Paris was thrown by the sudden turn. "What?! *Now* what are you talking about? If you're going to change subjects in midstream, Torres, the least you could do is signal!" "What?" It was her turn to be mystified by his mixed metaphor. "What are you talking about?" He brought his long, slender fingers up to massage his temples. "I have no idea," he said, helplessly. "Do you think maybe we could manage to argue about one thing at a time here, Torres?" "I'm not the one who wanted to argue," she retorted snippily. "You're the one who wanted to talk. So talk." She folded her arms across her chest in unconscious imitation of one of his favorite gestures. He clenched his jaw to restrain his first impulsive reply. "I want to know what just happened. Did you get mad because Chakotay was going to make fun of your cooking?" She couldn't decide what she wanted to answer to that question. She compromised. "Maybe." He rolled his eyes. "Stop that!" she snapped. "Now what?" Paris said with exasperation. "Stop making fun of me!" "How did I do that?" He was honestly confused. "You made a face---like you're humoring me." "B'Elanna, I am NOT humoring you. I have NO idea what's going on here, but I do know that much. Now---what is the problem? You can't cook? Is that what upset you?" She bobbed her head up and down, not trusting her voice, then lifted her chin and glowered at him defiantly. He stared at her. "So? What is it you're waiting for me to say? Am I supposed to *care* that you can't cook?" She dropped her eyes to the floor, unsure of how to state her concerns without appearing foolish or petty. "Tell me what my next line is, Torres. You seem to be writing your own script here---my lines and yours. Am I supposed to scream with horror and say 'You can't cook---then I'm out of here. Goodbye, Sweetheart.' ? Is *that* what I'm supposed to do?" The words ground out between clenched teeth. Her head almost lifted. He took it as a nod. "Tough. I'm not saying it. If you want to get rid of me, you're going to have to find a better excuse for dumping me," he said bitterly. Her head flew up, her eyes seeking his. "Dumping you?" "Isn't that what you want?" Paris said, surprised he could speak at all with a lump the size of a baseball in his throat. "No!" She crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat and seized his forearms. "Tom, no!" She couldn't find words either. She gazed up at him, but just looking at him wasn't enough. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly to her body. After a hesitant moment, his arms came up tentatively and tightened around her. Tom felt exhausted by the abrupt swings in moods and emotions. "What just happened here, B'Ella? I don't understand. Help me understand. I can't conceive of how we got from joking in Sandrine's to talking about breaking up in less than twenty minutes." She was amazed at how sensitive he was---and aghast at how easily he expected her to walk away from him. She rubbed her face against the well-defined muscles of his chest and mumbled, "I got in a Klingon snit?" She felt a rumble of relieved laughter under her cheek. "Yeah, I guess so." His hand came up to stroke her hair, pressing her closer to his body. "Tom." She squeezed him tighter, possessively. "Yes?" "I'm NOT letting you go. I'm NOT dumping you. I'm NOT letting you get away from me- --never." The repetition reassured him of her seriousness. "Okay. Now that we have that settled, maybe we can talk---and argue about the same thing at the same time?" They moved to the couch and sat down, arms around each other. "I'm sorry," she blurted. "I overreacted." "So did I. I've got to learn to stop expecting the worst," Tom said ruefully. After a moment, he cautiously added, "Chakotay thought you might be jealous." "What?!" "That's what * I * said," he stated sagaciously. B'Elanna subsided. "He might be right. He usually is. At least when it comes to me." "Really? You're jealous of Malista? I don't understand. Why?" She studied the toes of her boots as she answered. "I've been thinking about it for awhile. It's not just the cooking. I guess I could learn to do that---if I wanted to---if you wanted me to. It's a lot of things." "A lot of things like what?" he prodded gently. "She's so tall and elegant-looking. She moves flowingly---all smooth movements and easy elegance---like you. Maybe it's because you're both so tall. I feel short and clumsy next to her." "Funny. She wishes she was shorter---and graceful like you. She told me she feels like a gawky, hulking monster sometimes. Especially when she stands next to you." "Really?" B'Elanna found it hard to believe. "Yes. You know she's still not convinced she's attractive at all. That's why I have to be careful when I tease her. She's insecure. If you listen for it, she puts herself down all the time. She's not very sure of herself---in any way." Torres considered that for a moment. "She always *looks* so sure of herself. It's hard to believe she's not totally confident and in control. You're saying she runs a good bluff--- like you do?" Tom nodded ruefully. "If you watch her eyes carefully, you can see through it. Most of the time. Anything else on your list?" "She's better on the trapeze than I am," Torres grumbled. "She's been doing it since she was four years old, B'Ella," he said reasonably. Having no good response for that argument, Torres abandoned that subject with alacrity. "She can cook," B'Elanna mumbled. "I managed to set fire to Starfleet emergency rations." "You're kidding?" Paris grinned. He couldn't resist. The Starfleet emergency rations were supposed to be absolutely foolproof. She rammed a small fist lightly into his ribs. "Ow! Okay. So you can't cook. Why do you need to? We can go to the messhall. Or I can cook. Or we can replicate food. OR we can hint around for invitations to dinner with Malista and Harry. They're easy." "You don't mind that I can't cook?" She hated to admit she was less than competent at anything. Especially something so simple, so basic a survival skill. "B'Elanna, I don't understand why it's supposed to matter." She peered up into his face. He seemed to be sincere. His eyes flashed angrily as he recalled something else she'd said. "And what was that crack you made about your limited vocabulary? I never said that---or thought anything like that." She abruptly found his hand on hers to be a fascinating sight. "When you and Malista talk sometimes you use words and expressions---" Her meaning broke through the fog of his confusion like a beam of sunlight and he nodded. "Oh. Oh, I see. B'Elanna, how do you think I feel when you and Harry take off prattling about some warp engine component or some technical aspect of the ship's design that I know nothing about?" "Dumb?" she ventured. He grinned. "No. Maybe I should, but I don't. I feel bored. It isn't my area of interest. You give me a ship---any ship---and I'll fly it---very well, if I do say so myself. But don't ask me to build one. You give me an emergency and I'll figure out how to repair what needs fixing, because I have to---but don't ask me to do routine maintenance. And Malista loves that stuff. She'd do nothing but tinker on equipment all day and every day if you'd let her. Everyone has different interests. I don't expect you to share ALL my interests. I don't share all of yours. But we can still respect each other and spend time together." "I just felt---you have so much more in common with Malista---" "Yes. We do have similar interests in literature, poetry, and music. Sure, I want to spend time with her. I enjoy her company and talking about those things. And sometimes I might want to spend time just with Harry---doing guy things. Mostly I want to be with you." "I'm glad." "But as for comparing you and Malista---I wouldn't do that. I know---I hate that feeling myself---the feeling that I'm being compared to someone else and that I'm never going to measure up," Tom murmured. His arms tightened around her. "Your father?" She gazed up at him sadly. "Yeah, but right now I was thinking of---Chakotay," he finished reluctantly. "Chakotay?" She seemed surprised. "Who does *he* compare you to?" His brow crinkled as he stared at her. "Not him. You. I thought you might be comparing me to Chakotay----" He broke off as he read her expression. "No?" "Tom, you're two very different people. I admire Chakotay. I respect him. I may have even entertained some fantasies about him now and then----" "Really? Yuck. He's not your type at all. Mine either for that matter." She thumped his arm. "I'm not joking. But you're right. Chakotay and I would drive each other crazy." "Oh, yeah. Unlike you and I," Tom said snidely. "We don't. You've been good to me---and for me." She cleared her throat. "I don't want to make comparisons either. I'm interested in you because of who you are---not for who you aren't. And, in a strange way, I like it that you won't let me get away with anything." "For example?" "My Klingon snit?" She smiled at him reluctantly. "If you'd left me to it, I would have brooded my way into a full blown tantrum---and somehow it would have been all your fault that I lost my temper." "I could say the same thing to you." Tom rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. "You don't let me get away with hiding any more. You force me to confront or at least express my feelings, instead of just joking about everything. At least when I'm alone with you." He was becoming uneasy with the seriousness of their conversation, but there were a few things he'd been wanting to tell her and he didn't want to let the opportunity pass by. "You know I don't understand why you were concentrating on all the things you *don't* do well? You should list all the talents you do have." "What do you mean?" "You were comparing yourself with Malista only in the things she does better than you do. If you're going to do comparisons---be fair. Also list the things you do better than she does." With a smile, she relaxed into the curve of his arm. "For example?" He began to enumerate her virtues and skills. It took some time. Especially since she volunteered to demonstrate some of them. Very successfully. ******************** Malista's life had fallen into a pattern. She worked her regular shift, spent most of Beta shift with Harry---or Harry, Tom, and B'Elanna---then had several hours to kill before she would be worn out enough to sleep soundly. Getting some work done seemed like a good idea and during third shift not that many people were awake. She envied those who slept peacefully. As she came around the corner, she stopped so precipitately she almost left skid marks with the heels of her boots. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped forward. There was no way to avoid them---the two men she'd hoped to elude for as long as possible. Their shift assignment had changed and she hadn't known. They were in a direct line with her destination---Shuttlebay One. She was in a public corridor. They wouldn't dare do anything to hurt her. So she would try to ignore them. Crewman Paul Castelle, Engineering, was working on a malfunctioning commpanel in the corridor. Lieutenant Laro Longoria, on an errand from the Biology Lab, had stopped to talk to his friend. The conversation ended abruptly as Malista came into view. The two men ran their eyes up and down her body as she approached. Longoria 'accidentally' moved to block her path, while ostensibly speaking to Castelle. "You know I used to think Niko Dishon was one lucky man. After he was killed, I thought maybe I'd have a chance at his 'private stock', but I guess I'm out of luck, huh, Paul?" "We don't have enough to offer, Laro. Some people are ambitious." She side-stepped to the left, trying to get past. Unsuccessfully. They were being much more persistent this time. It was the fourth time this week that the two men had found an opportunity to confront her. Ignoring them didn't seem to make an impression on them. "I wonder how much good it does to 'ingratiate' yourself with the Senior Officers. Do you think we should try it, Paul?" "No, Laro. I don't think *we* have the bodies for it! But it might get someone else a promotion. You think?" He licked his lips, smacking them, as he leered deliberately at Shadow. She sidestepped to the right. Castelle 'accidentally' blocked her path with the open commpanel. "Does Harry Kim know you're just using him? Or does he even care? Come on, Shadow. Tell us your secret. You've got three---no, make that four of the senior staff eating out of your hand. Is that some kind of Maquis trick?" "Don't forget the captain, Paul. She was sitting with them at Sandrine's the other night. Our girl here is scoring big points with the command team. How do you do it, Shadow? One at a time or in groups?" he snickered. "When does your promotion come through?" "I don't know what you're talking about," Malista said tersely. "Excuse me. I have to go." Her features were frozen, her tone icy. Her problem with these two seemed to worsen at every encounter. They'd limited themselves to verbal insults----so far. Their insults were just variations on the theme they'd been harping on. She didn't meet their eyes, but took another step forward, bringing her elbows up to use, if needed, to push past them. She was going to get past them and away from them. She would not back off this time. With insulting slowness, Longoria moved aside. He left barely enough room for Malista to squeeze between Castelle and himself without touching them. As she took a step, he deliberately brushed a hand across her hip. He'd never been quite so blatant about his sexual advances before. She darted away, getting away from them as quickly as possible---but not before she heard them laugh contemptuously behind her. She arrived in the shuttlebay and set her toolbox down on the deck next to the Cochrane. She jumped, startled, when Ensign Ethan Simms appeared in the open hatchway of the shuttle. "Hi, Malista." Simms looked up from studying the padd in his hand and greeted her with a friendly grin. He'd been grinning even more often than usual since he and Janine Lamont had been seeing each other. The Security Officer took note of Shadow's pale face. "Are you okay?" She tried to return his smile. "Fine. Can I help you with something?" She knew the ensign from her time working in the Security office. Though basically a shy man, given any hint of friendliness Ethan was as irrepressible as a puppy and almost as hard to ignore. He'd never seemed to notice that he had been doing all the talking in their cordial conversations during the slow shift periods in the Security Office. Maybe she felt comfortable with him because, as long as Malista had known him, he'd only had eyes for Ensign Janine Lamont. Other women didn't seem to exist for Ethan- --at least not as women. Just as fellow crewmembers. It had been a comforting indifference that made her less uneasy in his presence. "No, I was just checking the shuttle's weapons locker. Routine check. This is the last one." Simms couldn't hide the concern in his Kelly green eyes. He was trained to be observant and he was observing that Malista Shadow looked distracted---and though her expression gave little away---Ethan thought she looked unhappy. "What are you doing here? I thought you were working Alpha Shift?" It was the beginning of the Gamma Shift, just after 2400 ship's time. Those working the Alpha Shift would normally be sleeping at this time. She avoided his eyes, kneeling and opening her toolkit. "Just a little overtime. Don't you change shifts next week?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't notice the abrupt change of subject. "Yeah. Mikel and I go back to Beta Shift," Simms agreed. He still couldn't put his finger on it, but his intuition was telling him something was wrong. It was evident from her body language that Malista Shadow didn't want to talk about it. He'd learned a lot about interpreting body language from Janine. He gave a mental shrug as he examined her once more. "Well, I'll see you." "Good night," Shadow responded. She slid under the shuttle and opened an access panel. ******************** Harry Kim cast a quick glance around the messhall. "Tom." "Yeah, Harry?" Paris raised his eyes gratefully from his contemplation of the blue and green concoction on his lunch tray. Maybe, if he didn't look at it? He placed a forkful into his mouth, careful not to let it cross his line of vision. He chewed and swallowed. "Not bad. The texture's pretty good. It's edible if you just don't see it." Kim leaned in and spoke in an undertone. "Tom, is it my imagination, or are we getting some nasty looks from the Maquis who are here?" Working on another bite, Paris let his eyes wander around the room as he chewed and swallowed. "It's not your imagination," he stated matter-of-factly. "Now the question remains: Who are they looking at? You, me, or us?" Harry's brow creased as he thought that over. "Wouldn't the proper question be, why?" "Harry, Harry, Harry. If you know who, it goes a long way toward telling you why--- usually," he tacked on. "Okay, let's find out who. I'm going to leave the table and we'll identify the object of their disregard. You want some coffee?" Kim shook his head and tried a bite of his own lunch. He tried not to make it obvious that he was watching the Maquis as Tom crossed the room to get his coffee. It was him. They were all staring at Harry Kim. Not one Maquis had followed Tom's progress. He looked up as Tom rejoined him at the table. Tom's eyebrows rose. "It's definitely you, old buddy. What have you done to get the Maquis ticked off at you?" "Nothing," Harry protested. "That I can think of." Tom frowned. "No one has said anything?" "No. But come to think of it, I've been getting strange looks for the past week or two--- maybe longer than that." "Maybe B'Elanna knows. She hears most of the gossip," Tom suggested. "I'll ask her tonight. You two are coming to dinner?" Harry asked. "Malista is cooking?" Tom verified and grinned as Harry nodded. "We'll be there with bells on. Then we have to get to Sandrine's for the pool tournament." "Tom," Harry asked hesitantly. "Have you noticed that Malista doesn't seem to want to go anywhere any more? I mean, we work out on the holodeck three times a week in the circus program, but other than that---" "I thought you liked spending time in her quarters or yours?" Tom teased. "You don't have to worry about PDA's there!" Harry felt himself flushing, but he couldn't get upset with Tom. He did enjoy spending private time with Malista. Too much of their courtship had taken place in the forum of the ship's public areas such as Sandrine's for Harry's comfort. Harry Kim had never been as social as Tom Paris. Something of a homebody, he enjoyed having dinner alone with Tom, B'Elanna, and Malista in her quarters or his. After dinner, Tom and B'Elanna sat and talked with Harry and Malista or left for Sandrine's to play pool. Harry sometimes practiced his clarinet while Malista listened appreciatively or read. Sometimes Malista tinkered with repairing something while Harry read or worked on the computer terminal. They were enjoying each other's companionship and getting to know each other on many levels. With one notable exception. Paris snapped him out of his reverie. "Harry, we have five minutes to get back to the bridge. Eat up!" Harry did as he was told. ********************* Jenny Delaney snagged Malista's arm and dragged her into a side corridor. "There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" "Why?" Shadow looked down at the redhead. "And why are we hiding?" Jenny's eyes were sparkling. "Because it's time for step two in our plan to get George Natwick." "Step two? What happened to step one?" Malista asked, blinking in confusion. "Did I miss something?" She'd been so distracted by other problems, she'd all but forgotten the plans for revenge being hatched by the Delaneys. Now that it had been brought back to her attention, she wasn't sure if she wanted to go through with it or not. Jenny stuck her head out into the main corridor and ducked back into hiding. "Now, all you have to do is just walk down this hall. Do you know where George's quarters are?" "No, why?" "It's the third door on the right. Just a second." She glanced down at a small device in her right hand. "Jenny, why am I---" A red light appeared on the device. "That's Megan's signal. I'll explain later, Malista. Now, don't ruin everything. Just walk by George's quarters. Casually. He's on his way. When you get to his door, stop. When he comes around the corner from the turbolift, smile at him and then start walking again," Delaney whispered. "Go!" She pushed her friend out into the main corridor. Not knowing what else to do, Malista followed directions. She didn't have long to wait. George came around the corner, his steps slowing as he saw her standing there. She smiled at him and started to move past him. "Malista? Were you---looking for me?" he asked, sounding and looking almost wistful. It was an expression that contrasted wildly with his normal self-sufficient demeanor. Malista almost panicked. Jenny hadn't told her what to do if he spoke to her! Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she turned to face him with the smile still in place. "No, George. I wasn't looking for you. Is there some reason I should be?" "I guess not," he said impassively. She turned and continued on her way to the turbolift. She needed to talk to the Delaneys about this. She'd been so preoccupied with other matters, she'd almost forgotten they were plotting against Natwick. The ensign stepped toward the door to his quarters. He halted and studied the door suspiciously. He was a well-trained Security Officer. He quickly found the signs that the manual lock had been tampered with---just as Jenny Delaney had planned. She walked around the corner into view and greeted him with a friendly smile. "Hi, George." She appeared to notice his attention to the door controls. "Is something wrong?" she asked innocently, widening her blue eyes. *********************** Harry pushed his chair back from the table with a groan. "Malista, you're going to be the death of me! Tom's already teasing me about gaining weight! I'll have to replicate a larger uniform if you keep feeding me like this!" She flashed a grin at him as she cleared the plates away. "I didn't force you to have seconds---or was it thirds?" He smiled guiltily. "I never tried dolmades before. How did you get the replicator to--- you're a miracle worker. That has to be the explanation. But you didn't eat very much yourself." "I tend to sample as I'm cooking. By the time it's ready, I'm not very hungry." She returned to the table, intending to get the rest of the dishes. He snagged her waist with one hand and pulled her into his lap. She giggled and slid her arms around his neck. In what had become their own private ritual, he cupped his palm around the nape of her neck and tugged her face down to his for a kiss. "Mmm. B'Elanna was right---as always. Tall people will bend for shorter ones," Harry murmured, nuzzling her neck. "Given sufficient motivation," she whispered, nibbling at the rim of his ear. She felt lighter than usual in his arms. "Have you lost weight?" he asked, trying to keep his concern from showing. She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "I've worked off a few pounds on the trapeze. Don't want to look chubby when you're wearing tights." After a moment, she asked, "Are you ready for dessert?" She hopped off his lap and took the rest of the dishes to the reclamator. He groaned again. "I don't think I could eat another----" "I made baklava," she called. One of his favorite desserts. He would make room for that. "Maybe later?" Kim got to his feet and stretched before moving toward his music stand and picking up his clarinet. "With coffee?" "I thought you were stuffed?" she teased as she came in and settled on his couch with a padd in hand. "I am. But you put temptation in my path! Forget Aphrodite! I've changed my mind. I think you're more like Circe---an enchantress." He looked up and caught her gazing at him with rapt intensity. "What?" She shook her head, smiling. "Nothing." "No, really. Why are you looking at me like that?" She shrugged. "I don't know. How am I looking at you?" She dropped her eyes shyly to the padd in her hand. He put the clarinet down and came to sit next to her on the couch. He took her hand in his. "Like you're trying to memorize me?" "Oh, but I have to memorize you, Harry. I don't have any pictures of you to look at when you aren't around." She still didn't meet his eyes. He pretended to consider that. "You could always download my service record picture," he suggested. "Harry, do you know how stuffy you look in that one?" she protested, wrinkling her nose at him. She tried to back away from him. He grasped her wrist to keep her near. "Oh, I do, do I? And how would you know that, Crewman Shadow? Have you been sneaking a peek at my service record?" She bit her lip as she nodded. He brought one thumb up to free her lip from its trap between her teeth. "Really? Why?" He was intrigued. "Harry." She was blushing. "Malista," he crooned, smiling broadly. "To tell you the truth---promise not to tell Tom? He'd never stop teasing me about it." His smile widened. "Sure." "I sort of had a crush on you and I got your service record picture---just to look at." She giggled at his astonished countenance. "I know it was childish and silly, but---the first time I saw you, I thought you were very good-looking. Even if that picture does make you look stuffy. I still think you're the handsomest man on the ship." He chose to ignore that ego-building exaggeration. "When?" "When what?" "When did you have a crush on me?" Harry'd had no idea she'd been interested in him at all before Tom had brought them together. In fact, he'd had the impression she didn't like him at all. In hindsight, he decided it was her shyness and self-consciousness that had made her appear unfriendly and standoffish. She tugged her wrists free and brought her hands up to cover her reddened cheeks. "Oh, probably since the second day the Maquis were on Voyager." And of course, he hadn't noticed her at all. "And you didn't know I existed till Tom befriended me." "I must have been blind," he marveled. "No. Just not ready to pay attention to anyone," she said softly. "I saw your service record picture too," Harry replied, not wanting to stay on that topic. Tom had told him repeatedly that Libby was a forbidden subject---at least until Malista was more secure in her own relationship with Harry. "Really? When?" "At the staff meeting when the captain found out you were working two shifts." He thought he saw a flash of guilt in her eyes, but dismissed the idea. She couldn't still be feeling guilty about that piece of deception. That was months ago. "Oh? And what did you think?" she asked coyly. "You weren't smiling at all. You looked stern and forbidding. Scared me half to death," he lied boldly. She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Liar. You don't scare that easily." He snatched her hand and kissed her palm. "Remind me and we'll get Tom to take a flattering picture of the two of us. Two pictures. One for your quarters and one for mine." A fleeting shadow crossed her expression, but before he could question her, she pushed him toward the music stand. "Practice, Harry. Practice. You have a concert next week." "Yes, mother," he whined boyishly. He began to play as she settled down to read from the padd. Or at least she was reading every time he looked up from his music. *********************** The doctor looked up as Malista Shadow came through the doorway of his office. "Crewman Shadow, Commander Chakotay tells me you are interested in training to be a field medic." "Yes, sir." She was standing at attention. The hologram indicated the chair opposite his. She sat down. "It will require hours of study and practice, Crewman. Are you willing to make that kind of commitment and effort?" His brusqueness could easily be mistaken for unkindness, but Malista had spent quite a bit of time in Sickbay---as a patient and working on the equipment. She was accustomed to his direct manner and dry wit and not intimidated by him---at least not much. "Yes, sir." He nodded approvingly and held out a padd. "Since our crew is predominantly human, we will begin by studying emergency procedures for the treatment of humans. This will give you information about human anatomy and first aid procedures. I will work with Lieutenant Torres to schedule time for you to work in Sickbay so that you may learn to operate the specialized equipment. If an emergency should arise, you should report here for duty. Unfortunately, this ship seems to experience uncommonly frequent emergencies resulting in traumatic injuries." She looked over the information on the padd, then glanced back up at him. "Thank you, Doctor. Kes tells me you're an excellent instructor." The EMH gave a pleased, slightly embarrassed smile. "She did? Well, of course, she did. I am. My programming---" The doctor missed Kes, his first friend. The Ocampan had been spending less and less time in Sickbay as she pursued other courses of study in various ship's departments in an effort to satisfy her endless curiosity. "I don't think it could be just programming, Doctor. I think part of it is your personality," Malista said thoughtfully. "I am a hologram. I don't have a personality," the doctor announced decisively. Shadow chuckled, "Trust me, Doc. You have a personality. And you're developing a sense of humor. In fact, you remind me of my Uncle Dionysus." "Really? Dionysus?" He seemed to be trying the name on for size. Her lips curved upward as she reminisced. "Yes. He was my favorite uncle. He was a very compassionate man, but many people thought he was forbidding. He frowned a lot, you see." The doctor's brow creased. "Do I do that? Frown? I was not aware of it." "Maybe you should smile more, Doc. But only when you mean it," she added hastily as he peered at his reflection in the polished surface of his desk and stretched his mouth experimentally in a wide, insincere grin that was far more scary than reassuring. The Doctor turned his attention back to her. He studied her appearance for a moment and then said, "Crewman Shadow, your uniform appears to be too large. Have you been losing weight or is there a flaw in the replication system?" She immediately distracted him without answering the question. "Have you heard about my holoprogam? The circus?" "Yes. Kes tells me you and Mr. Paris are going to perform in the next talent show." "I've been getting a lot of exercise there. You know, any good circus needs a ringmaster. In our circus at home, that was my Uncle Dionysus. I was just wondering if you might consider being the ringmaster---the master of ceremonies." "Yes. Yes, of course. I would make an excellent master of ceremonies. I'll find a proper costume in the databanks. Thank you for asking me." Malista got to her feet. "I have to get back to work, Doc." She held up the padd. "I'll get to work on this right away." Recalled from his daydreams of glory as a ringmaster, the doctor nodded briskly. "Of course. When you're ready for another assignment, contact me. I'm available twenty-four hours a day, you know." Malista darted an assessing glance at him. There didn't seem to be any underlying meaning to his words so she smiled at him again. "Bye, Doc." He'd already dismissed her from his mind. He was busily accessing the computer's databanks for information on circuses. *********************** Voyager, as always, was on the lookout for replacement parts or the raw materials with which to create their own parts. According to the starcharts obtained from the Travelers, there were three uninhabited planets in the next system that possessed lush vegetation that would allow the Starfleet crew to stock up on edible plants, fruits, vegetables, and seedlings. Janeway had ordered long range scans of the uninhabited planetary systems which they were approaching. "No humanoid life signs were detected," Ensign Kim reported. "In fact no signs of life at all except for vegetation." "If the planets are as fertile as the Travelers suggest in their report, I'd think someone would have colonized them by now," Chakotay stated. "There was no sign of colonies or space travel. But we did find these," Kim leaned forward and punched a control. The viewscreen sprung to life showing a number of small objects floating in space within the system. "They appear to be artificial satellites of some sort." "Possibly monitoring devices," Torres chimed in. "We received some telemetry from the nearest one, but we haven't been able to make any sense of it." "Some kind of warning buoy?" Lieutenant Tuvok speculated. Paris sent him a disbelieving smile. "Not necessarily. It could be someone is thinking about colonizing these worlds and sent out preliminary probes to gather information." Tuvok raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "An optimistic theory, Mr. Paris, but one with no factual basis." Tom snorted and leaned forward to respond. The captain caught his eyes with hers and the gray steel convinced him to settle back in his chair and await developments. "Keep working on decoding the telemetry, Mr. Kim. I would like to know if we're trespassing before we reach the system and begin harvesting food," Janeway instructed. "Anything further? No? Dismissed." As the rest of the staff filed out of the briefing room, the first officer lingered. Janeway glanced up at him. "Did you have something to discuss, Commander?" "Yes, Captain," he sighed, "but in private." She gestured to the chair next to her as she reseated herself. He sank into his chair and tried to decide how to begin. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "I haven't brought this to your attention before, Captain, because I wanted to find out how serious and widespread the problem is. But I've been having difficulty doing that," Chakotay paused. "It seems there has been a resurgence in tension between the two crews." Janeway's eyes rounded. "Really? I thought we'd gotten past that---after we were marooned by the Kazon on Hanon IV." Chakotay shrugged. "There are still a few hard heads, but basically you're right. Most of the ill feeling had subsided or been worked out. It's experienced a recent revival." "Why?" Janeway was concerned. She cast her mind back over the events of the last few weeks and could think of nothing that should have polarized the crew. "That's part of the problem. No one is talking. To anyone," the first officer elucidated. "The M