Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [36]
Lang lives in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania, with his partner, Helen, and his son, Andrew, all under the watchful authority of Samuel the cat.
“One last thing before we finish up,” the captain said as she swung her chair around, making brief eye contact with everyone at the table, ending with Tom Paris. The hairs on the back of Tom’s neck stood up like hairbrush bristles. He knew that look, the “a bee in her bonnet” expression. Captain Janeway had something on her mind, but not a shipwide concern or breach of protocol or she would have brought it up during the meeting. In a way, though, this was worse: whatever it was the captain was obsessing over, it concerned only some cross-section of the people in the room: Chakotay, Tuvok, B’Elanna Torres, Harry Kim, the Doctor, Neelix or him, Tom Paris.
Paris didn’t like the way the captain’s gaze lingered on him. He reviewed his activities of the past week, searching for something he might have done that would warrant public reprimand, but nothing came to mind. He had even managed to look alert during the staff meeting, despite Tuvok’s needlessly detailed description of why the Nekrit Expanse was so empty. Otherwise, everyone had been as brief and to the point as possible, including the usually chatty Neelix, a change that Tom attributed to the Talaxian’s relief at finally finishing his work detail in the exhaust manifolds following his transgressions at the Nekrit supply depot. All was calm, peaceful, and quiet.
“I’d like to mention a topic Chakotay and I have been discussing,” the captain continued, pulling herself up onto her feet. Uh-oh, Tom thought. She’s standing up. Never a good sign. Captain Janeway patrolled the perimeter of the room, touching the backs of chairs, letting everyone know precisely where she was the way a good groom reassures a horse by touching its flanks as she moved around the stall. “This is a direct response to Tuvok’s excellent report about the Nekrit Expanse and the relative quiet I think we may expect for the next while. Having left Kazon space behind us, I think we may… is ‘anticipate’ too strong a word?” She looked around the room for reassurance and, feeling the need to be agreeable, Tom nodded.
“Very good,” the captain continued. ” ‘Anticipate’ some peace and quiet for a stretch. There’s only one problem there that I can see.” She searched the senior staff’s faces. Tom noticed that Chakotay was attempting to stifle a grin. Obviously, whatever it was that the captain had on her mind, it wasn’t a life-or-death topic.
“Supply stops,” Neelix responded immediately. “I’m starting to wonder how we’re going to maintain a steady supply of fresh vegetables and fruits.”
“An excellent answer, Neelix,” Janeway said. “And a significant concern, but that’s not what I was thinking about just now. And, besides, I’m quite certain you and Kes will be able to coax whatever we need out the airponics bays.” The Talaxian grinned widely at the captain’s praise.
“We can either replicate or manufacture whatever we need for the engines,” B’Elanna said, “so you shouldn’t be worried there, either.”
“And, as I stated earlier,” Tuvok added, “long-range scans do not indicate we’ll be forced to travel through areas claimed by hostile civilizations.”
“All worthwhile concerns, but not what I was thinking about,” Janeway said as she walked around behind Tom’s chair and he felt the weight of her hand on his seatback. “No, something more fundamental, closer to home.” She paused and Tom felt the captain waiting for a response. He sneaked another look at Chakotay, but the commander had once again assumed his blandest expression. “Anyone? No? All right, then. Chakotay, what is it we’re worried about?”
“Boredom.”
“And why is that?”
“Because bored people get sloppy,” the first officer said. “They loose their edge. They become careless.”
“Exactly.” The captain resumed her walk