Homecoming - Christie Golden [59]
The Doctor shook his head sadly. “Thank you for coming, Admiral. It was nice to be activated for at least a little while.” He rose, looking resigned. “You may tell the security guards that I’m ready to be deactivated again.”
“I’ll tell them no such thing,” said Janeway. “They’ve got a cell that’s appropriate for you. I’ll see what I can do to keep you in it.”
He looked suspiciously as if he were going to start crying. “Thank you, Admiral. Thank you.”
Tom Paris had barely said a none-too-gracious good-bye to the last security guard when his console beeped. At that precise time, Miral started to cry. He closed his eyes, gathering strength, then rushed to pick up his daughter and see who was trying to get in touch with him.
[175] “Admiral,” he said, snapping to attention with such force that Miral was first startled into silence and then threw up on his shoulder.
Admiral Kenneth Montgomery gazed at him and Miral with thinly concealed distaste. “Mr. Paris,” he said. “Is Lieutenant Torres available?”
Tom thought about saying something along the lines of if she was available, either she’d have answered your call or I’d have handed her the shrieking infant, but decided against it. Miral continued to wail lustily into his right ear.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “Can I take a message?”
“It’s difficult to talk to you with your child carrying on like that,” Montgomery said.
Paris had to admit he had a point, but bridled at the unnecessary comment nonetheless. “Unfortunately, there’s no one here but me to take care of her. B’Elanna’s gone and you’re holding the Doctor.”
Montgomery obviously hadn’t missed the dig, but refrained from rising to the bait. “I need to get in touch with her immediately.”
“That’s not going to be possible, sir. She’s on Boreth and I don’t know when she’ll return.” If ever. God, I miss her.
“Surely there’s some way of contacting her,” Montgomery said testily.
“Sir, with respect, she’s on leave. What she chooses to do with that time is her business.”
Montgomery’s expression mutated into one of cold dislike. “Your flip attitude doesn’t serve you, Mr. Paris, and I believe it’s gotten you into trouble on more than [176] one occasion. If you hadn’t been able to hide behind your father, you’d have been in for a lot worse than a short jaunt in a New Zealand penal colony.”
Tom felt his face grow hot. “As I said, sir,” he said stonily, “B’Elanna is unreachable at the present time.”
“That’s unfortunate. I’m surprised she was allowed to leave. I have some questions regarding some of Voyager’s technology.”
“You might try to get in touch with Lieutenant Vorik. I think he’s on Vulcan with his family. He was B’Elanna’s right hand.” Miral’s spitup was soaking into his shoulder and growing cold. Tom wanted this conversation to be over.
“Very well, I’ll try that. Montgomery out.”
For a moment, despite the discomfort of a soggy shoulder, Tom just stood looking at the screen. Miral’s screams had subsided into wet snuffly sounds, as they often did when she was held and comforted. Tom took her into the room that served as a nursery, checked her diaper, and then put her in her crib next to her enormous stuffed toy targ. She stuck a thumb in her mouth and looked up at her mobile made of tiny models of various Starfleet vessels. Tom changed his shirt, then sat down at the computer.
When Janeway’s face appeared, it had a wary look that relaxed into pleasure when she recognized him.
“Hello, Captain. I mean Admiral.”
“Has the security team left?”
“Yes, and I just had a little chat with Admiral Montgomery.”
“Really? So did I. You go first.”
[177] “He wanted to know where B’Elanna was. Permission to speak freely?”
She chuckled. “You’re not my helmsman anymore. Speak as freely as you wish.”
“I don’t like him.”
“Well, you’re in excellent company and I applaud your taste. I was able to talk to the Doctor.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, for now.”
Tom was relieved. The whole thing had happened