Unworthy - Kirsten Beyer [87]
These thoughts were momentarily disturbed by the sound of raised voices coming from Conlon’s office on the second level. Glancing up, B’Elanna caught sight of the engineer arguing with Admiral Batiste. Her stomach tightened further when Batiste looked down toward her and then continued his rant. Moments later he strode briskly from Conlon’s office, descended the utility ladder, and moved straight toward her with Nancy in tow.
She straightened her posture as she said, “Good evening, Admiral.”
“You are relieved, Ms. Torres,” he advised her coldly.
Taken aback by his tone, she stammered, “May I ask why, Admiral?”
“Lieutenant Conlon has just informed me that you were responsible for the damage to our deflector dish.”
“No, sir,” Conlon interrupted calmly. “I told you that it was B’Elanna’s idea, but that I agreed with it fully. I gave the order,” she said with emphasis.
“Be that as it may, your solution was ill-considered, and I do not believe that without Ms. Torres’s instigation, it would have occurred to you. This is a Starfleet vessel and we don’t damage it intentionally.”
“It was a last resort,” Conlon argued.
“No,” B’Elanna said firmly. “He’s right. It was my idea and I take full responsibility for it.”
“You are not to report to engineering unless I authorize it,” Admiral Batiste went on. “Understood?”
“Of course, Admiral.”
With a grim nod he stalked off.
“I’m sorry,” Conlon said immediately.
“Don’t worry about it,” B’Elanna replied, her heart sinking. “I had no business being here in the first place.”
“If I don’t have a problem with it, I can’t understand why he does.”
“It doesn’t matter,” B’Elanna said, attempting to summon a smile. “The new section is almost done. I’ll just go back to working on those matrix designs. I’ll forward them to you for review when they’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Conlon said sadly.
“No, thank you,” B’Elanna replied. “You should be proud of your team. I was proud to be a part of it. And I’ll continue to help in any way I can.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Conlon promised.
“Anytime,” B’Elanna said with a nod.
She took a moment to wipe her hands, slick with lubricant, and cast a long, last look around. Refusing to give in to regret, B’Elanna departed, anxious to see Miral and Tom, and saddened only by the thought that she wouldn’t be allowed to be of further use to Voyager.
Meegan sat complacently on the edge of the biobed. The Doctor had completed his examination and she had suffered no serious damage from the Indign possession. She remembered nothing of the event. An engrammatic scan had revealed several alterations to her prior brain patterns and those alterations had yet to return to normal. Privately the Doctor had hoped that Meegan might have been able to access some clue to the Indign during the incident. He supposed he should just be grateful that Meegan had been physically unharmed.
She had always struck the Doctor as enthusiastic. He had ordered forty-eight-hour bedrest but this morning Meegan had begged to be allowed to resume her duties. He had observed her carefully since then, and though she seemed pensive, she did her work with ease. However, Meegan had made errors she never would have made in the past.
The Doctor knew well the pain of feeling useless and would not willingly inflict it on anyone else.
“Your electrolyte levels remain a little low,” he said, scanning her test results. “Has your appetite returned to normal?”
“For the most part,” Meegan replied, a little evasively. “Meegan?” the Doctor prodded gently.
Sighing, she said, “It’s not that I’m not hungry. It’s that nothing really tastes good to me once I’ve replicated it.”
“Hm,” the Doctor said. “If you’d like I could provide you with a list of appropriately balanced meals which should restore your normal chemical balance.”
“Don’t we have anything fresh onboard?” Meegan asked.
The Doctor studied her briefly.