Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [6]
Tuvok welcomed the silence of the bridge. The automatic systems hummed and chirruped on occasion but they were tranquil compared with the cacophony of the past two days. Standing at the tactical station he noted that all the telltales showed green. With his long, slender fingers, Tuvok traced down the status board until he reached the bottom. Looking up with satisfaction, he surveyed the emptiness of the Bridge.
It didn’t take much to persuade Janeway to allow him to stay behind while she and the others conducted a memorial service for those who had died so far from home. He had slaved helm and operations controls to his tactical board and given the unremarkable readings coming through Voyager’s long-range sensors, little trouble was expected.
It wasn’t that the Vulcan felt nothing toward those who had died; after all, he had served with both Captain Janeway and First Officer Cavit for a time before the ship, its crew, and a Maquis vessel were all flung across the Milky Way. Now, as the ship and its combined personnel began its seventy-year journey homeward, Tuvok’s mind now turned to the challenge of ensuring the immediate and long-term stability of Voyager and her crew. Ignoring the ration pack Janeway had placed at his side when she left the bridge, Tuvok considered the situation. His personal grieving for those lost had been completed the night before, during his meditation period. He now allowed his mind to wander a bit, keeping the status board within his peripheral vision. Several dozen members of the Maquis were expected to fit in with the Voyager crew, adopting-some for the first time-Starfleet regulations and habits. Given the simmering anger several of the Maquis still felt toward Starfleet and the Federation, Tuvok had insured that his security teams remained in place near the armory and engineering, plus he implemented new protocols to restrict replicator usage. He had already anticipated a need to retrain his people given the new status quo. In the meantime, Tuvok was reviewing what he knew of the Maquis from the weeks he had spent among them, undercover, that no doubt made him a target for their anger. Another potential target for Maquis reprisal was the newly recommissioned flight officer, Tom Paris, still seen by some as having betrayed them.
Starfleet regulations made no provision for such an unexpected turn of events, and they would certainly need bending if not rewriting long before the starship completed its journey back to the Alpha Quadrant. But for now, the existing letter of the law was to apply to one and all; he was just going to make certain everyone else knew that, too.
His thoughts were interrupted by the swoosh of the turbolift doors opening, and the silence was shattered with conversation.
“How could you not have noticed Jenny Delaney?” Paris questioned Harry Kim as they emerged onto the bridge.
“I barely got to make a tour of the ship let alone meet everyone before, you know, I got taken by the Caretaker,” Kim replied. Tuvok noted the plaintive tone in his voice and reconfirmed his opinion that the ensign would need seasoning before he was ready to accept additional responsibilities.
“She’s got a sister,” Paris said brightly, taking up his forward position at the helm. “A twin.” Kim didn’t reply and settled back in at ops.
Also entering the bridge were Chakotay and Seska, both ex-Maquis. Tuvok knew that they had been romantically linked, but their body language implied the relationship had changed, and was likely over. Seska took her post at the auxiliary engineering console as Chakotay, Janeway’s choice to succeed commander Cavit, seated himself in the first officer’s chair.
Moments later, the doors whisked open again; this time the captain herself emerged, briskly striding