Trials 04 Shadow's Trial
Page 27
George relaxed suddenly. "You know about it, huh?"
"Know what?" Hudson returned. "If she's filed a complaint, I haven't
heard about it. How do you know anything is going on?"
Natwick curled a scornful lip in his direction. "I'm not stupid,
Hudson. I've known something was wrong. I just didn't know who. I
thought it was Kim. Again."
"Wishful thinking?"
Simms nudged his partner with his shoulder. That wasn't exactly a
tactful remark. He knew Hudson and Natwick didn't like each other
much. Their relationship was purely professional. It might be better
to keep this discussion on a professional basis. "Malista is being
harassed. She may not be the only one. Gerron and Dalby sent word to
me because they wanted some help in identifying the source of the
problem. What do you know about it, George?"
"What? Don't you mean what have *I* been doing to Malista?" the ensign
sneered.
"No. We already took you off the list of suspects. Not your style,"
Ethan told him flatly.
"You're right about that." Natwick had slightly more tolerance for
Simms. "Why hasn't she reported it? Filed a complaint?"
The younger man shook his head. "We don't know why. When we find out
who and exactly what, that may tell us the rest. This is unofficial.
We're just looking into it---as friends. So what do you have?"
"I have one name. What do you have?"
"We have one name," Mikel stated, still not letting his guard down.
"You guys want to compare notes and work together on this?" Ethan
proposed.
Natwick and Hudson both stared at him as if he'd suggested they step
out an air lock and go for a stroll.
A moment of silence ensued as the three of them thought it over.
Finally, Natwick nodded. "Yes. To help Malista." He eyed Mikel
defensively, as if waiting for a wisecrack.
Hudson saw genuine concern for Shadow in the muscle man's demeanor so
he let the opportunity pass. He and Simms simply nodded their
agreement as well.
Natwick showed them the file he'd just pulled. Crewman Paul Castelle.
Simms gave him the name they'd come up with as a suspect. Lieutenant
j.g. Laro Longoria.
"Now what?" Natwick growled.
"Good question," Hudson replied. They both looked at Ethan Simms.
"Now---we try to get some proof," the auburn-haired ensign said.
"I had in mind pounding Castelle into the ground like a climbing
piton," Natwick confessed. He flexed his bulging biceps. "Strictly out
of sight and off the record."
"Ah, the unofficial approach," Hudson said, grinning boyishly.
"Tempting." He pounded his right fist into the palm of his left hand.
Natwick grinned back. He might grow to like Hudson after all.
Simms eyed the pair dubiously. Maybe telling Lt. Tuvok wasn't such a
bad idea after all. With or without proof.
**************************
If Malista Shadow had known B'Elanna Torres as well as she thought she
did, she would have been suspicious when Torres explained that the two
of them were to meet Harry and Tom at Sandrine's for a snack before
going to the other holodeck for their workout.
And even more suspicious when B'Elanna insisted that she wear her
sweats, rather than the tights she usually wore.
And warning klaxons should have sounded when Torres told her to leave
her commbadge in her quarters.
But Malista Shadow was too thoroughly distracted by her own thoughts
to read the signs that would have made her suspicious. Even the most
obvious clue. Just as they reached the inner doorway of Sandrine's,
Torres oh-so-casually mentioned there were alien visitors aboard that
reminded her of Nausicaans.
So the two women walked into Sandrine's---and into the beginning of a
bar brawl. Five Nausicaans, huge, hulking, and armed with knives, were
rushing with hostile intent toward the Voyager crew members present in
the holodeck.
A terrified Malista watched as one of them swung a wicked-looking
knife at Harry Kim. The ensign ducked under the swing and came up in a
lunge with both fists in the alien's face. They fell to the floor, the
ensign on top, struggling for possession of the knife.
Tom Paris, on Kim's right, had tackled one of the big aliens and
pinned him to the floor. A second alien was approaching from Paris'
rear, knife upraised. Screaming a Klingon war cry, Torres rushed
forward and threw herself onto the alien's upraised arm, using all her
weight to swing him away from his intended victim. The element of
surprise was a great help as she slammed him into a wall.
Kim had knocked out his opponent and staggered to his feet. Shadow
rushed to his side to steady him, only to be pushed behind him as yet
another alien rushed at them. Distracted by trying to protect her, Kim
allowed this one to get through his guard. The alien landed a
punishing blow to the young man's midsection, doubling him over. Kim
landed at Malista's feet, retching and trying to catch his breath.
The Nausicaan reached down to seize the ensign. Without hesitation,
Malista grabbed the nearest chair and with all her strength brought it
crashing down on the alien's head and shoulders. He crumpled to the
floor, narrowly avoiding crushing Kim beneath him when Shadow used a
well-placed kick to push his falling form back and away from her
beloved.
Shadow leaned down, got her hands under Kim's shoulders, and dragged
him to a relatively safe location, behind the bar so he could catch
his breath as she stood watch over him to keep him safe and out of
harm's way. She popped her head up over the counter to perform a quick
reconnaissance. Only two of the aliens were still up and moving.
Torres was still engaged with the same huge alien. He'd lost his knife
and was now using only his fists as weapons. She was using her speed
to confound the enemy as she darted in to deliver well-placed blows,
then danced out of the way of the retaliatory blows. She was laughing
jubilantly at her opponent and his inability to pin her down and
administer punishing blows with those big hands.
Paris was down, hurt, but not too severely. He seemed to be shaking
off the effects of a blow to the jaw. He'd taken two of the Nausicaans
out of the action before being knocked off his feet. There were three
other Voyager crewmen down and unconscious nearby. The other Nausicaan
was moving towards the pilot's recumbent figure. Paris, still groggy,
didn't seem to be aware of the danger.
Torres noticed and yelled, "Malista, take him out!" She quickly
danced out of reach of her opponent's long arms. Seizing a broken
chair leg, she swung it threateningly, daring him to come closer and
decisively leaving Paris' fate in Shadow's hands.
Shadow moved to the end of the counter and stopped. Her hand dropped
toward her ankle---but she didn't have her boots on. She picked up a
bottle of liquor and hurled it at the alien's head with remarkable
dead-on accuracy. The shattering glass didn't seem to hurt the
Nausicaan very much, but it did se
rve to get his attention. He
abandoned his original target, turned, and started moving toward her
with a roar.
She picked up another bottle and let fly. And another. And another. In
rapid fire succession, she hit the alien over and over, the heavy
liquor bottles pounding his skull then his body relentlessly as she
hit every vulnerable spot with pinpoint accuracy. He suddenly lurched
to a stop, teetered for a moment, then crashed to the deck with a
resounding thud.
Suddenly, Shadow felt a hand on her shoulder. Reacting instinctively,
as she'd been trained in her self-defense classes, she reached back,
grasped the forearm firmly and heaved! A body went flying past her
and landed in a heap against a broken table. Her eyes widened with
horror as she recognized her victim! It was---Harry Kim!
"Computer, freeze program." It was Tom Paris' irritable voice---but it
was coming from the doorway---not from his position on the floor.
Malista stood frozen for a split second. Her eyes shot from the
panting figure of Harry Kim lying near her feet---to the figure of
Harry Kim that she'd just tossed across the room.
Tom Paris spoke again. "Computer, remove all holocharacters from this
program." The Harry behind the bar and the Tom on the floor
disappeared---along with the Nausicaans and the other Voyager crewmen.
Everyone except the four of them.
Almost simultaneously, Malista Shadow launched herself across the room
and skidded to a halt on her knees beside the real Harry Kim who was
sitting up slowly, rubbing the back of his head which had banged
against the floor when he'd landed. Fortunately, he'd remembered
enough of his own self-defense training to fall properly and avoid
serious injury.
Shadow's eyes frantically searched for damage to his head or limbs.
"Harry, I'm so sorry---are you all right?" Her hand automatically flew
up to signal---but, thanks to B'Elanna's forethought, she wasn't
wearing a commbadge. "Tom, we have to beam him to Sickbay." She seemed
positively panic-stricken.
Harry grabbed her hand and smiled at her reassuringly. "Calm down. I'm
all right. I don't need to be beamed to Sickbay for a knot on the
noggin. My head's almost as hard as Tom's."
She didn't even try to smile at his weak attempt at humor. "Are you
sure?" She began frantically checking him over, trying to prove to
herself that she hadn't really injured him.
Giving up on reasoning with her for the moment, Harry wrapped his arms
around her and pulled her tightly into his embrace, letting the
strength of his hold convince her. "I'm fine, Cookie. Sit with me a
minute and catch your breath." She was shaking as she snuggled into
his warmth, her hand stroking his thick hair as she tried to soothe
away even the smallest hurt.
Torres, her exuberant enjoyment of the conflict interrupted, was
belligerently regarding Tom Paris as he approached her with a
disapproving frown. "You weren't invited," she accused defensively,
hoping to get in a preemptive strike. She dropped the chair leg to the
floor and dusted her hands off on her hips.
"I wonder why?" he asked sardonically. "Nausicaans?!" His eyebrows
flew up almost to his hairline.
"They may be thugs, but they're formidable opponents," she retorted.
In the background, they could hear Harry Kim whispering to Malista,
though they couldn't make out the words, his tone implied he was
reassuring and comforting her.
"Why?" Paris asked quietly. "Why did you do this?"
Ignoring his question, B'Elanna walked over to stand next to Malista
and Harry. "I wanted you to learn to fight," Torres told her. "If you
have to go on an away mission with Tom---or anyone else, I don't want
you to endanger others because you aren't prepared to defend
yourself."
"This wasn't a good idea, B'Elanna," Paris said from behind her, his
jaw tightening.
Malista didn't look up. She kept her eyes fixed on the pulse beating
in Harry's throat and tried to stop shaking. She didn't acknowledge
even hearing the other woman's remark.
"I'll tell you one thing," Harry said lightly. "I've learned my
lesson. Never again will I enter a holodeck program without announcing
my presence. Oof." The last sound was uttered when Malista
compulsively squeezed him tighter, forcing the breath from his body in
a rush.
"You ought to go to Sickbay," she murmured, speaking for his ears
alone.
"For this little lump on the head? The Doc would laugh at me. I tell
you what, why don't you take me back to your quarters, get me an ice
pack, and feed me baklava? My kind of therapy," Harry replied. He
wanted her to focus on something besides his so-called injuries and
she always responded to feeling needed.
Paris extended a hand to Harry and pulled him to his feet. The two men
held their hands out to Malista and pulled her upright as well. Tom
embraced her in a quick hug. "Hey, where did you learn to throw
bottles like that?"
"I didn't learn to throw bottles. I learned to throw knives---at the
circus. Much to my father's dismay, I tried to learn all the acts in
the circus," she explained in a husky whisper. "My uncle Anthony had a
knife throwing act. I've been teaching Aron Dalby and Diane Russell
how to do it. They want to perform at the talent show when we---if we
do our trapeze act." She stepped back from Tom and retreated into
Harry's welcoming, enfolding arms. She didn't spare even a glance for
Torres.
Trying to ease the tension, Tom asked, "Just one question, Sis. In
this knife throwing act, I hope you were the throw-ER, not the
throw-EE?" He faked a panicky frown.
She managed a weak smile. "Both. I substituted for Uncle Tony or for
his target, my cousin Maria, when either one couldn't perform."
Harry and Tom's eyes met over her head which now rested on Harry's
shoulder. "I think we'll skip practice tonight, Tom. I think you're
both worn out and on edge from the effects of that probe yesterday.
Maybe we can get back on schedule tomorrow?"
"Sure, Harry. Get a good night's sleep, Malista," Tom said. When the
holodeck doors had closed behind them, he spoke again. "Computer,
reset holodeck program to original parameters of Paris Program Three."
The computer complied. The broken furniture and shattered bottles
vanished to be replaced by the usual holographic patrons and
furnishings. He walked to the bar, sat down, and poured himself a
drink.
Tired of being ignored, Torres slipped onto the barstool next to Tom.
"How did you two get in, anyway? I had a security lockout in place."
Paris held his glass up to the light and inspected the contents as
carefully as if he were counting the bubbles in the carbonated liquid.
"I've told you before---you'd be surprised the things you learn in
prison."
Torres found it difficult to read his expression. He didn't seem
angry---not the cold, hard anger he'd displayed only once before in
her presence.
He didn't seem irritated---the quick flash of sarcastic
temper that he more commonly exhibited.
"Tom?" With one word she asked several questions at once.
"This was a mistake, B'Elanna." His voice was heavy. From his posture,
she guessed the burdens of his mind were weighing down not only his
voice, but his whole body.
She fought off an instinctive urge to react defensively and deny any
possibility of an error in judgment on her part. "Why?"
He pressed the cold glass to the center of his forehead and held it
there for a moment. "Because Malista is very stressed right now---and
you just applied more pressure."
She considered the possibility that he might be correct, but felt the
need to explain her rationale. "I thought it might help her. If she
would learn to fight."
"And did it work? Did she fight?" He finally turned to look at her,
his blue eyes for once unreadable---at least by her.
She dropped her gaze, uncomfortably aware that she had upset Malista,
Tom, and Harry, and all for questionable results. "No. Not the way I
expected her to. She didn't fight for herself. She only fought when
Harry was in trouble---or when you were. She fought for you, too. But
not the way I expected. Throwing bottles?" Her tone was incredulous.
Tom, however, seemed to understand or at least accept it. "She used
what was at hand."