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
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 h
is 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 do
lmades 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