Dark Matters_ Cloak and Dagger (Book 1) - Christie Golden [35]
Imitating what she'd been able to glean from shrewd observation and the occasional sneak peak at the computer, Two of Four announced, "The weapon is completely operational. Hotter, prepare to examine the room for any sign of-"
Darn it, she'd lost the word again. That was happening to her a lot-forgetting things. Naomi hadn't said anything to anyone; she was afraid to. Now and then she'd summon her courage, start to talk to her mother about it, and then close her mouth at her mother's angry retorts. Mama didn't use to snap at her like that
Once, Naomi had actually gone down to sickbay on her own, but she had forgotten where she was going before she got there. When she remembered, she had, again, decided not to pursue it.
But it was awfully frustrating when-
"Intruders." That was the word. She held the "weapon" in her right hand, its "barrel" pointed down toward the floor in proper safety position, and
moved as silently and gracefully as she could through the cargo bay. All was, of course, as she had left it, up to and including her makeshift "regenera-ion chamber." Nobody else came down here very often.
Then she frowned, warring with her erratic memory. That bin-didn't it used to be over there? And the little space that was cleared-it was big enough for someone to sit down.
Or was her memory just playing tricks? Had she, yesterday, moved the bins herself?
Naomi didn't think so.
Slowly, she put down the toy weapon and moved toward the bins. She placed her shoulder against one and pushed. She couldn't budge it more than a couple of inches, even when she squeezed her eyes shut and grunted with effort. Nope. She certainly hadn't moved it and forgotten she'd done so.
"Somebody's been sneaking into our room!" she told Plotter indignantly. Someone was spying on her, maybe right mis minute. Naomi glanced up and looked around, saw nothing unto-unto-wrong.
Her small mouth thinned. She was angry at the thought of some nosy grown-up creeping into her private area and snooping on her. She'd show them. She'd set a trap for the intruder.
Steeling herself for the pain, she plucked several long hairs from her scalp. "Ouch," she muttered as she examined the hairs and rubbed her stinging head. Yes, they would do. Working carefully, Naomi strung the long hairs directly across the path that led
to the cleared area. There was no wind or anything else here that might break them. Only someone crossing this thin line would snap the hairs.
Satisfied, she stood up. She'd check back shortly to see if her unknown snoop had returned.
Tom rubbed his gritty eyes and fought back a yawn. If the captain caught him nodding, he'd be relieved of duty. Never mind that he was pulling a second shift. They were finally doing something about mis damned dark matter and Paris wanted to be on the bridge when they contacted these Shepherds.
Intellectually, Paris understood that his short temper and suspicion of Telek R'Mor were due to the malignant matter inside his body. Intellectually. He'd seen the stuff on the Doc's screens in sickbay, and in calmer moments could even distinguish between bis ordinary thoughts and his panicky, paranoid flights of fancy. Hell, he'd seen what the mutated crap had done to Neelix... Neelix! The gentlest, sweetest guy on the whole ship.
But that didn't mean the feelings were any less real to him.
Even now, his hand crept down to his belly and scratched. He could have sworn he could feel the stuff inside bun, moving around in his bloodstream, hi the liquids between the cells-
Cut it out, Tom. That's the dark matter talking.
He closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and opened them again.
He was looking forward to this routine exercise.
Combat practice always got the blood flowing. Paris was not the best scholar at the Academy, but he always scored high points in combat