Caretaker - L. A. Graf [17]
"`Ma'am' is acceptable in a crunch, but I prefer `Captain."" She waited for him to acknowledge with a bob of his head, then stepped away from the machinery to gesture toward a door on the far side of the ready room. "We're getting ready to leave. I'll show you to the bridge."
They fell into step behind her, Paris trailing a few steps behind as he hefted an underfilled duffel before following. She wondered what he'd had to bring along in the way of personal effects, or if he'd brought whatever was within reach from his quarters in Auckland, just to keep from looking out of place.
"Did you have any problems getting here, Mr. Paris?" She'd meant the question as small talk--so neither Paris nor Kim would feel the obvious difference in their positions because of her uneven attentions--but she knew Paris must have taken it as something more when he answered her glibly, "None at all--Captain."
Well, at least she could be certain the Rehab Committee had sent her the right felon.
The doors separating the ready room from the bridge whisked open on a low but pervasive hum of working machinery. Janeway's whole body responded to the busy sound, stepping into rhythm with this ship and its purpose as easily as a dancer was swept up into the music that made up half her art. Cavit, down by Stadi at the helm, glanced up from their work with a nod, and Janeway returned it with a hint of a smile.
As much as she couldn't explain, she loved this ship already--loved the elegance of her powerful brain, loved the efficiency of her design, couldn't wait for an excuse to let her loose and find out what it was like to chase the heels of warp ten. Stepping down to the main command level, she paused to rest her hand on the command chair, but didn't yet take the seat.
"My first officer, Lieutenant Commander Cavit." She motioned Kim and Paris forward as Cavit turned to offer his hand. "Ensign Kim, Mr. Paris," she introduced them each in turn.
Cavit hesitated only slightly before taking Paris's hand, but his smile was stiff and unconvincing. "Welcome aboard."
Janeway made a mental note to speak with Cavit later. She'd given him credit for more decorum than that. From the amused but bitter look on Paris's face, however, Paris hadn't.
She distracted Kim by directing him toward the operations console to one side. "This is your station. Would you like to take over?"
He looked a little startled, but smiled widely. "Yes, ma'am."
Janeway resisted an urge to pat him on the head. "It's not crunch time yet, Mr. Kim." She waved him into his seat. "I'll let you know when."
Hands laced behind her back, Janeway made a slow circuit of the bridge--ostensibly for a last stern look over everyone's shoulder, but in truth because she was still enjoying the heady mixture of freedom and responsibility that always came with each new starship command.
The bridge itself was small, the synergy among this new crew already bright and strongly active. They were going to be good together, Janeway thought with delight. It was a good ship, and she'd never been so proud to be its captain.
Like an island of discord in the midst of this tentative harmony, Paris stood with his duffel on his feet, looking silently around at all the stations and careers that his past had locked irrevocably away from him. Janeway couldn't find it in her heart to pity him. Coming to terms with the consequences of your actions was one of the harder lessons of growing up, it was true.
And, as with all life's lessons, sometimes otherwise promising people got drowned in the backwash of their big mistakes. It might not have been fair, but it was reality. Not even a father in the admiralty could change that. So if Paris couldn't get used to standing by the wayside while Voyager's crew did what they were made for, these next few weeks were only the beginning of his problems--because, judging from what Janeway had seen of him so far, she didn't expect things to change for Paris any time soon.
Stepping down to the