The Garden - Melissa Scott [3]
"Oh, got to be sure I'm getting all my vitamins, Harry. Haven't you heard?"
"Heard what?" Kim said, suspiciously, and grimaced as Paris's grin widened. He ought to know by now not to take everything the helmsman said at face value, and yet somehow he always asked. . . .
"We've got a little problem," Paris said, cheerfully, and shoveled in a mouthful of the curry. His eyes widened, and he reached hastily for the nearest glass of water.
Kim allowed himself a smile. "Neelix has been experimenting with the spices again."
"You might've warned me. My god, where did he
get goat peppers in the Delta Quadrant?" Paris took a deep breath, and another cautious taste of the curry.
"Who knows?" Kim leaned forward, planting both elbows on the table. "What little problem, Tom?"
Paris smiled again, his taste buds apparently already adjusting to the curry. "You'll never guess, so I'll just tell you. Some of the crew have come down with scurvy."
"Scurvy?" Kim shook his head, and reached for his fork again. "No way, Tom, I won't bite this time."
"It's true," Paris protested. "I heard it from Ensign Renehan-she's one of the ones who has it."
"Maybe she just said it so you wouldn't ask her for another date," Kim said, and smiled as Paris made a face at him. "Seriously, Tom, it's just not possible. I mean, scurvy's preventable-completely preventable. And I worked on the team that checked the last load of food we brought on board, so I know the analysis was good."
"Maybe you screwed up," Paris said, "or somebody missed something, because Rennie says she knows eight other people who're having problems." He smiled again, this time with cheerful malice. "How are your teeth feeling, Harry?"
"Fine." Kim frowned, Paris's friendly barbs fading as he tried to remember the details of the analysis. Everything had been well within normal limits; nothing had stood out, and nothing stayed in his memory. He shook his head again. "Damn it, Tom, people can't have scurvy."
"A demonstrably untrue statement," a cool voice said from behind Kim, and in the same moment he saw Paris smooth his expression into something more decorous. "Though based on logical assumptions."
Kim stood quickly. Lieutenant Tuvok was one of the few people on board who could still make him feel
as though he were at the Academy, and he still couldn't imagine how the Vulcan had functioned as part of Chakotay's Maquis crew. He heard the chair scrape as Paris copied him, less automatically, and Tuvok acknowledged the courtesy with the flicker of an eyelid.
"The captain would like to see you both in the ready room," the Vulcan continued.
"Now?" Paris asked. Kim glanced back, and saw him looking with regret at his unemptied plate.
"Now," Tuvok agreed. He added, "The matter is urgent."
"Or at least sensitive," Paris said, "since we're not using communicators."
"Just so," Tuvok said, apparently without irony.
Kim reached for his plate and utensils, bundled them into the nearest cleaning slot, and stepped out of the way to let Paris do the same. Tuvok waited, not hurrying them, and Kim decided he could risk the question.
"So there is scurvy on board, sir?"
"Several crew members are suffering from an ascorbic acid deficiency," Tuvok said. "The captain will explain the situation in more detail." He turned without waiting for an answer and strode toward the nearest turbolift. Kim followed, Paris at his heels, and heard the man murmur something under his breath. He couldn't quite make out the words, but Tuvok answered without turning, "No doubt it will, Mr. Paris."
"Crushed again," Paris said, and took his place in the turbolift.
Serves you right, Kim thought, but under Tuvok's curious and uncomprehending stare decided to keep silent.
The others were already present in the ready room
by the time they arrived. The captain acknowledged their arrival with a curt nod and, mercifully, no further comment, and Kim