Read Online Star Trek: Voyager: Endgame by Diane Carey - Free Book Online
Authors: Diane Carey
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only creature in the galaxy who didn't particularly care how much she ranted. The baby was in charge.
* * *
Captain Janeway was glad of the interruption when Chakotay streamed into her ready room and rescued her from having to scan the power ratio reports from belowdecks. During these long periods of busy work—which really did have to be done for the sakes of preparedness and conservation—she always tried to remind herself that the boring times in space were offset by truly dangerous and ghastly adventures. Still, during one she often craved the other.
“It happened again,” Chakotay mentioned right off. His strong features and gentle charming eyes brightened the ready room and set off a competition between stars passing outside the viewport.
Janeway stretched back and smiled. “That baby's leading us on. When did it happen?”
“Oh four hundred.”
She winced in empathy for Paris and B'Elanna. Another night's sleep ruined. “How many false alarms does this make?”
“Three. That we know of.”
“That baby's as stubborn as her mother.”
Chakotay smiled. “Harry's starting a pool to see who can guess the actual date and time of birth.”
“Tell him to put me down for next Friday, twenty-three hundred hours. Anything else?”
Chakotay shrugged lightly, every bit as bored as she was. Technically he was in command now, and he almost never bothered her during her off-watch hours for anything other than two good reasons—acute danger to the ship, or acute boredom for the first officer.
“Crewman Chell's asked about taking over in the mess hall full time.”
Whew—they really were scraping the bottom of the barrel. A flash of reality struck Janeway that on a ship of the line, the captain and first officer would never even hear about who was handling the mess hall. The whole structure of running a ship simply prevented the minute details of life belowdecks from filtering up so high. This was more like silly gossip than a problem for command officers.
True, the ship's cook could make or break the quality of life belowdecks, especially in a near-survival situation, and could keep the crew going, but this just wasn't the kind of thing she should have to be discussing with her first officer.
Janeway threw it a bone anyway. “Neelix left some pretty big pots to fill. Does Mr. Chell think he's up to the challenge?”
“Apparently so,” Chakotay said casually, and handed her a padd. “He prepared a sample menu.”
Janeway scanned the information and crinkled her nose. “Plasma leek soup? Chicken warp-core-don-bleu?”
“If his cooking's as bad as his puns, we're in trouble.”
“Oh, I don't know . . . I wouldn't mind giving his red-alert chili a try . . . feel like having lunch?”
“I'd love to. But I already have plans. Rain check?”
“Absolutely.” He turned and headed for the door, which in fact opened at his approach before he changed his mind and peered at her over his shoulder.
Janeway felt his gaze even though she had gone back to the work on her desk. When she didn't hear the door close, she looked up. “What's wrong?”
“Yes. What's wrong with you?”
“Psychic, are we, Chakotay?”
He strode back toward the desk and pressed one finger to the black surface. “You've been more nervous than Tom. You're not giving birth to this baby, you know. It's Tom and B'Elanna's problem.”
“Is it?” She drew a long breath. “I thought I'd put my misgivings to rest.”
“Kathryn, you can't stop them from starting families. It's one way they feel less captive.”
In a kind of annoyed fitfulness, Janeway pulled her fingers through her hair and tried to relax. “A long time ago, I came to a decision that there would be no children on
Voyager.
Remember?”
“I do remember. You suffered over that decision. And if memory serves, it was just a few months before Naomi was born.”
She nodded at the irony. “Yes, it was one of those brilliant command decisions that lasted about six
* * *
Captain Janeway was glad of the interruption when Chakotay streamed into her ready room and rescued her from having to scan the power ratio reports from belowdecks. During these long periods of busy work—which really did have to be done for the sakes of preparedness and conservation—she always tried to remind herself that the boring times in space were offset by truly dangerous and ghastly adventures. Still, during one she often craved the other.
“It happened again,” Chakotay mentioned right off. His strong features and gentle charming eyes brightened the ready room and set off a competition between stars passing outside the viewport.
Janeway stretched back and smiled. “That baby's leading us on. When did it happen?”
“Oh four hundred.”
She winced in empathy for Paris and B'Elanna. Another night's sleep ruined. “How many false alarms does this make?”
“Three. That we know of.”
“That baby's as stubborn as her mother.”
Chakotay smiled. “Harry's starting a pool to see who can guess the actual date and time of birth.”
“Tell him to put me down for next Friday, twenty-three hundred hours. Anything else?”
Chakotay shrugged lightly, every bit as bored as she was. Technically he was in command now, and he almost never bothered her during her off-watch hours for anything other than two good reasons—acute danger to the ship, or acute boredom for the first officer.
“Crewman Chell's asked about taking over in the mess hall full time.”
Whew—they really were scraping the bottom of the barrel. A flash of reality struck Janeway that on a ship of the line, the captain and first officer would never even hear about who was handling the mess hall. The whole structure of running a ship simply prevented the minute details of life belowdecks from filtering up so high. This was more like silly gossip than a problem for command officers.
True, the ship's cook could make or break the quality of life belowdecks, especially in a near-survival situation, and could keep the crew going, but this just wasn't the kind of thing she should have to be discussing with her first officer.
Janeway threw it a bone anyway. “Neelix left some pretty big pots to fill. Does Mr. Chell think he's up to the challenge?”
“Apparently so,” Chakotay said casually, and handed her a padd. “He prepared a sample menu.”
Janeway scanned the information and crinkled her nose. “Plasma leek soup? Chicken warp-core-don-bleu?”
“If his cooking's as bad as his puns, we're in trouble.”
“Oh, I don't know . . . I wouldn't mind giving his red-alert chili a try . . . feel like having lunch?”
“I'd love to. But I already have plans. Rain check?”
“Absolutely.” He turned and headed for the door, which in fact opened at his approach before he changed his mind and peered at her over his shoulder.
Janeway felt his gaze even though she had gone back to the work on her desk. When she didn't hear the door close, she looked up. “What's wrong?”
“Yes. What's wrong with you?”
“Psychic, are we, Chakotay?”
He strode back toward the desk and pressed one finger to the black surface. “You've been more nervous than Tom. You're not giving birth to this baby, you know. It's Tom and B'Elanna's problem.”
“Is it?” She drew a long breath. “I thought I'd put my misgivings to rest.”
“Kathryn, you can't stop them from starting families. It's one way they feel less captive.”
In a kind of annoyed fitfulness, Janeway pulled her fingers through her hair and tried to relax. “A long time ago, I came to a decision that there would be no children on
Voyager.
Remember?”
“I do remember. You suffered over that decision. And if memory serves, it was just a few months before Naomi was born.”
She nodded at the irony. “Yes, it was one of those brilliant command decisions that lasted about six
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