Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [10]
There was only one explanation. The holodeck was malfunctioning. This wasn't good news, considering how much Voyage?is crew depended on the ship's holodecks.
Sighing, she said, "Computer, terminate program."
Abruptly, the temple and the Vulcan desert around it vanished. They were replaced by an intricate network of electromagnetic field emitters and omnidirectional holodiodes-the devices that enabled the holodeck to create and sustain its illusions.
"Well," B'Elanna breathed, "at least that command still works."
As she walked toward the exit, a pair of interlocking doors automatically slid away from each other. The engineer could see the corridor beyond them, where the holodeck controls lurked beyond the bulkhead.
B'Elanna knew she didn't have the time to do a thorough repair job. Eventually, she would have to turn it over to someone else. Nonetheless, she pulled away the appropriate bulkhead panel and started diagnosing the problem.
After all, on a ship like Voyager, there was always too much to do and not enough time in which to do it. If she didn't tackle each difficulty as it came up, she would soon be deluged.
Worse, B'Elanna would have to explain that deluge to the captain-and that was not her idea of a good time.
Tom Paris found the object of his search in the corridor outside the ship's holodeck: she had taken a bulkhead plate off and was tinkering with the controls located behind it.
Morning," he said.
Paris had learned not to approach B'Elanna without giving her sufficient warning. The one time he had done that, he had gotten a couple of bruised ribs for
his trouble.
The engineer glanced at him. "Morning," she replied. Then she went back to her work.
Stopping alongside her, he propped his hand against the bulkhead. Then he peered over her shoulder at the holodeck's control mechanisms.
"him," Paris said judiciously. "That doesn't look good."
"It's not good," B'Elanna agreed, without sparing him another glance. Suddenly, she straightened, causing him to straighten, too. "Unfortunately, I don't have the time to devote to it right now."
"Oh?" said Paris.
"I've got an emergency shutdown drill in engineering a few minutes from now." Picking up the bulkhead plate, she put it back in its place. "So someone else will have to fix this-when they can find the time."
"Too bad," he commented. "I was hoping to use the holodeck this evening."
"For what?" B'Elanna asked.
"Dinner," said Paris. "For two."
She gave him her trademark look-a half-scowl, half-smile that never failed to fascinate the hell out of him. "Dinner," she echoed.
He nodded. "With you."
The engineer rolled her eyes. "I'm too busy, Tom."
She started down the corridor, all business.
He caught up to her, then created an imaginary vista with a sweep of his hand. "Picture it, B'Elanna. A table for two, on a plateau high above the Yrommian rain forest. The setting sun dissolving in a rising sea of mists. A cool breeze caressing your bare shoulders…"
She waved away the suggestion. "One doesn't bare one's shoulders near an Yrommian rain forest, Tom. Not unless one wants to be a meal for a horde of gorada flies."
He shrugged. "I've never had any problems with them."
"You're not half-Klingon," B'Elanna reminded him. "Those gorada flies like hot-blooded species."
"And you think your blood's hotter than mine?"
Paris asked frankly.
She met his gaze. "I'd say that's a conversation for another time, wouldn't you?" Coming to a turbolift, she stepped inside.
He followed her. "Okay. Forget about our blood temperatures. Let's go back to the dinner discussion."
"That was a discussion?" B'Elanna asked, as the lift doors closed behind them. "Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?"
"There you go again," Paris told her.
The engineer's eyes narrowed. "There I go what?"
"There you go folding your arms," he said. "That's body language for 'I'm scared stiff of you."'
B'Elanna looked down and saw her arms woven tightly across her chest. She