Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [90]
“Your pupils are dilated by nearly a millimeter, and blood flow has increased to your facial capillaries,” the Doctor continued.
“I think I’ve had a little too much Anterian cider this evening,” he replied.
“I would recommend several glasses of water before you retire this evening, Commander, and perhaps a light analgesic,” the Doctor offered conspiratorially, simultaneously creating a short subroutine that would add Public Intoxication, Dos and Don’ts to his list of Seven of Nine’s social lessons.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Chakotay replied, his eyes wandering again about the room, finding her now in conversation with Ensign Kim. “I think I’ll take that suggestion right now, if you’ll excuse me.”
But Chakotay never made it across the room. As he was looking for an opening to the right of Tuvok, who was headed straight for him, to add his stiff congratulations to the chorus of those he had already endured, Neelix flanked him at port, offering him a slice of birthday cake. A small contingent of his Maquis crewmates, countered to starboard, obviously hoping he had taken their account of his first attempt to escape a Cardassian scouting party that left him covered in refuse and face to face with a Peroghian pig-lizard in the friendly spirit that it was meant. By the time he had assured them that there were absolutely no hard feelings, Kathryn was tugging gently on his right arm.
“I must say, Commander,” she began, “I’ve had my share of awkward conversations with Admiral Nimembeh, but nothing that compares to yours.”
He turned, smiling. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Her gleeful smile was all the answer he needed.
“I’m glad to see it. I’ll make sure we add a roast to the agenda for your next birthday.”
Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Really, Chakotay, if you’re bucking to be stranded in the Delta Quadrant, there are easier ways to go about it.”
They shared a laugh as Seven of Nine caught his eye, raising her glass to him from across the room. As he acknowledged her in kind, Janeway continued.
“Is it true that Seven is the one who ruined the ‘surprise’ part of this party for you?”
“It is,” he replied.
“I think I’m a pretty tolerant person,” she went on, “especially where Seven is concerned, but I might just have to throw her in the brig for this.”
“Stand down red alert,” he said. “She honestly didn’t mean to. She was preparing her weekly efficiency report…”
“Always one of my personal favorites,” the captain interjected without missing a beat.
“… and felt it was necessary to highlight the fact that Neelix had gone over his replicator rations by almost 69% in the last three days,” he continued.
“And because she’s Borg, she simply couldn’t regenerate until she got to the bottom of it?” Janeway asked.
“I think she felt awful about it, in her own way,” Chakotay offered. “You should have seen Neelix trying to convince her to drop the subject when she confronted him in my presence. I put two and two together and managed to get us both out of the mess hall before Neelix resorted to whacking her over the head with a frying pan. I had to explain to her what a surprise party is, which led to a fairly lengthy conversation about human celebration rituals.”
“A model of inefficiency?” Janeway supposed.
“I think her exact words were ‘The date of one’s birth is irrelevant.’ “
“Are you sure it wasn’t ‘Birthday parties are futile’?” she asked.
“You might be right,” he smiled in reply.
Across the room, the faint tinkling of a spoon tapping gently against a glass ended further discussion. Turning toward the sound, they joined the others in giving their full attention to Neelix.
“My friends, I would like to propose a toast,” he began as the group dutifully began to raise their glasses in preparation. “We’ve all enjoyed a lot of laughter over the past few hours at our guest of honor’s expense. But I think I’d be remiss if I didn’t also point out how important he is too all of us. I owe him my life…”
“So do I,” Tom called out, trying to keep the moment light. Most of the crew chuckled appropriately. It was fairly common