Pathways - Jeri Taylor [233]
But Finnegan was too consumed with the recent tragedy to care about a minor tactical report. He waved Tuvok off, wearily. “We’ll deal with that tomorrow,” he sighed. “I’m waiting for the sensor logs in Cadet Paris’s shuttle to be downloaded.”
Tuvok nodded and left. He understood the admiral’s priorities. But he also knew he had to keep his own in proper alignment.
The next afternoon, he checked his notes thoroughly in order to make certain they were accurate. In doing so, he noticed two more violations of procedure which, though minor, must nonetheless be included. He left a message for Admiral Finnegan that he would be with them as soon as he had corrected the entries.
As soon as he was done, he hurried to the paneled room in which reviews were always held, and found three admirals—Finnegan, Paris, and Nechayev—already there. Standing to one side was a dainty, small-boned woman who nonetheless emanated strength, whose brown hair was neatly coiffed, and whose gray-blue eyes reflected a keen intelligence. Admiral Finnegan was introducing them, gesturing to Tuvok and saying, “Captain Janeway, may I present Ensign Tuvok.”
The woman extended her hand and he took it. “Captain,” he intoned, and then set a stack of padds on the table. Within minutes Finnegan had turned the meeting over to him, and without hesitation Tuvok launched into his review, citing each of the forty-three violations along with his opinion as to whether the infraction was major or minor. As he spoke, he was aware that Captain Janeway was studying him intently, and he was certain she intended to argue each point with him.
When he had finished, Admiral Finnegan turned to her. “You may feel free to answer the charges, Captain.”
The woman sat quietly for a moment, then rose. “Sir, I was raised in the traditions of Starfleet. I learned the precepts of this organization at an early age; I admire and honor them.”
Her voice was clear and strong, and she spoke with earnest conviction. Illogically, but earnestly. When she had finished trying to rationalize her errors, Tuvok rebutted, and she rebutted that statement, and so on until they were sent into the hallway while the admirals decided the outcome of the hearing, which came quickly. As Tuvok had known they would, the admirals rebuked Captain Janeway for having violated tactical procedures.
He was caught off-guard, however, when they announced that they intended to post him to her ship, for he had not anticipated such a maneuver. But he quickly saw its definitive logic. This was a captain who could be developing bad habits, and she required firm guidance. He had no doubt that, with his help, she might yet be molded into a passable officer.
Five months later, he despaired of that task. The woman was simply the most stubborn, frustrating, impossible human he’d ever met. He had already decided to request another posting as soon as they returned from their present mission, a survey of supernova remnants in the Trige sector. In the meantime, he intended to keep insisting that she follow protocols.
“Good morning, Captain,” he intoned as she came on the bridge. “Weapons systems are on-line and ready for weekly review.”
“I’m sure I can leave that task in your capable hands, Tuvok.”
“I have done so, as I do each day,” he replied, “but regulations clearly state that at least once a week the captain is expected to review weapons status.”
“Strange. That seems to imply that the captain has no faith in her tactical officer, which I assure you is far from the case. I trust you implicitly.”
Was there the slightest curl to her lips? Tuvok could never be sure. Captain Janeway was always poised, cool, implacable. He had learned that human humor took many forms, and he lacked the ability to distinguish between them, especially if they were subtle. But it was entirely possible that the captain was mocking him.
“I did not think that you lacked faith in me, Captain. However, if you trust me so fully, why is it you pay