Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [11]
"You're out of your mind," she told him. "I'm not frightened of you or anyone else." She rubbed her arm with one of her hands. "For your information, I'm a little chilly, that's all."
He grinned at her. "A nice warm mudbath could take care of that. When the holodeck is fixed, of course."
"And I suppose you'd be willing to share it with me," B'Elanna surmised.
"Well," said Paris, "I could be persuaded."
"You never give up, do you?"
"Never," he confirmed.
She sighed. "Look, tonight's not a possibility. But how about tomorrow night? That is, if nothing ridiculous comes up."
Paris spread his hands expansively. "Tomorrow it is." Suddenly, he remembered. "Hey, isn't tomorrow the Day-"
',-of Honor. Yes, it is." B'Elanna glanced at him. "In fact, I've been working on a holodeck program to celebrate it."
"My," he said, "we have come a long way. Last year, you wanted to run and hide on the Day of Honor."
"Well," she replied, "last year's Day of Honor was a little better than all the others. Hence, the program. Actually, I was going to shape it up a little, but then I discovered the holodeck was on the blink."
That gave Paris an idea. "Listen, you're so busy and all-why don't I shape up the program for you? That is, when the holodeck's fixed."
B'Elanna looked skeptical. "You?"
"Why not? I probably know as much about Klingons as you do. And what I don't know, I could look up."
"I don't know," she said.
"Hey," Paris declared, "what have you got to lose?"
Just then, the doors opened. As B'Elanna exited the lift, he accompanied her. After all, he wasn't due on the bridge for another couple of hours.
"So what do you say?" Paris asked. "It'll give us a chance to do something creative together. And you'll enjoy the program more if there's an element of surprise ... right?"
She stopped in the middle of the corridor, exasperated. "Fine, Tom. Complete the program." As she looked at him, her gaze softened. "I mean, I appreciate the sentiment and everything. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do, all right?"
"No problem," he assured her.
Then Paris watched her walk the rest of the way to engineering. The doors slid open as B'Elanna approached, and then closed behind her, depriving him of her company.
The flight controller sighed. He'd had trouble with a lot of things in life, but the opposite sex wasn't one of them. He had always had a knack for attracting women and keeping them attracted.
What's more, he wasn't sure B'Elanna was any exception. But if she was attracted to him, she sure had a funny way of showing it. Even arranging a dinner date was like pulling teeth.
Of course, he mused, that only made her more desirable to him.
Ensign Harry Kim stopped in front of his friend's quarters and waited for the door sensors to register his presence. A moment later, he heard Paris's voice: "Come on in."
As the door slid aside, Kim entered. He found the flight controller sitting at the computer terminal in his living room, staring at the monitor.
"What's so interesting?" Kim asked.
He peered over Paris's shoulder to get a look at the screen. It displayed a line drawing of a monstrous being with Klingon features.
"Fek'lhr?" he said, reading the name underneath the illustration.
His friend frowned. "A mythidal beast, the guardian of Grethor-which is about as close as Klingons get to hell and the devil."
Kim nodded. "Interesting." But, now that he thought about it, not really Paris's cup of tea. He said SO.
"True," said Paris, leaning back in his chair. "That is, until today. Suddenly, I have a burning desire to know more about Klingon culture."
Kim smiled. "And why is that?"
Paris looked at him apologetically. "It's kind of confidential. At least, I think it is."
"But it has something to do with B'Elanna," Kim guessed.
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, I don't know," Kim said. "Maybe the fact that she's the only one in the entire quadrant with a
Klingon heritage. Or the fact that you have a poorly disguised interest in her.