Peeping Tom, Shroy Tuvok ~ part vii
 
 
 
Part VIII ~ Neelix

Voyager's rumor mill has been running overtime since the return of Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay, so it doesn't surprise me that the mess hall is pretty near packed today.  Reports of Voyager's captain and first officer being absent the day before have pushed the crew's morale levels nearly to a crisis, and what happens in the next half hour will effect their performance for the rest of the day, if not the rest of the week.  Unfortunately, there's little that I can do at this point besides do my best to provide the crew with a tasty meal and prepare to initiate damage control should certain events cause morale to take a turn for the worst.

It's 0658, and it's been quite a rush keeping everybody served.  There usually isn't such a large breakfast turnout until later in the week, when replicator rations are lower.  Today, though, they're certainly keeping me on my toes.  The only table that isn't taken is the one that everyone's here to watch.

The doors on my left are opening, admitting yet another customer.  Even though I'm busy, I always take the time to greet each crewmember and ask them about their day so far.  It's amazing how much a person will cheer up if you're actually happy to see them and care about their problems enough to listen, if even for a few seconds.  I look up to see who is next on my 'people to greet' list.

"Ah, Commander!" I smile:  "Good morning!  What can I get you today?  Pancakes?  Eggs?"

"Just my usual, Neelix," he smiles back.

"Oatmeal it is," I disappear for a moment to retrieve his bowl, taking the time to arrange his utensils just so and sprinkle a little cinnamon on top.  Commander Chakotay's morale is just as important to me as any other crewmember's, and I want him to be happy today.  Something which doesn't seem to be a problem, I mentally note as I come back out of my kitchen:  he's actually whistling.  I set the tray before the Commander:  "There you go.  Enjoy!"

"Thanks, Neelix."  The Commander takes his breakfast, greeting several crewmembers as he goes to take his seat.  I smile at the crew resumes their conversations with renewed vigor, then sigh, placing my hands on my aproned chest, turning my mind on what needs to be done next.

The Captain will be here soon.  I set a clean tray on the counter, then retrieve the flower and vase that I've already selected.  I adjust it just so, then pick up the napkin and utensils, glancing at the chronometer as I set them out.  She should be arriving right about now.  I turn to watch the door.

Five minutes later, I'm still watching.  She's never been late before.  Her pancakes are going to get cold.  What if she's not coming?  I glance at the rest of the room, suddenly aware that they're all watching the door, too.  Tom and Harry are conversing quietly, and B'Elanna is watching Chakotay solemnly.  The Commander seems to be frozen, just sitting there, staring at the door.  He isn't smiling anymore, and I can see that he wasn't expecting this.

I hear the door.  Everyone is immedietely talking again, as if there had never been a moment's silence.  Only the Commander blatantly watches the Captain as she crosses the room, coming toward me.  I can see that she's aware of his stare but is ignoring it.  I glance at the chronometer:  0715.  This has never ever happened before, and it's already thrown me off.  I can already see that I'm going to have at least a minor situation on my hands because of her tardiness.  I turn my full attention to the Captain:

"Good morning, Captain," I greet:  not too quietly, not too cheerfully.  The last thing I want to do today is get on her nerves.  Unlike any other crewmember--even the rest of the senior staff--her mood affects how the ship will be run on any given day.  Everyone takes their cue from her, and if she's unhappy, the chances are the entire ship's complement will be too, from the Commander right down to Naomi.  The Captain is very quiet today:  it takes her a moment to answer my greeting.

"Neelix," she finally replies.  The smile on my face is frozen, but at the moment that can't be helped.  Suddenly it feels as if the eyes of every person in the room are on me.  I swallow:

"What can I get you?" I ask.  "The special?  Today we're..."

"Oatmeal," she cuts me off.  My mouth falls open:

"Oatmeal?" I manage.  In over six years she has never ordered any type of hot cereal whatsoever.

"Yes," she replies quietly, hands folded in front of her on the counter.   "And some orange juice."  I blink a few times:

"Yes, ma'am."  I'm already hurrying into the kitchen, hustling to find a bowl and prepare her breakfast.  Moments later, I'm standing before her again, placing the bowl on the tray that has been waiting for her.  I lift the tray from the counter to the bar, placing it in front of her.  "I hope that plain is okay," I study her face.  "We're out of the flavored varieties, and I haven't had the chance to replicate more."

Her eyes don't meet my own as she solemnly places the spoon in the bowl.  She takes the napkin in her hand, then picks up the hot bowl of oatmeal, using the fabric to shield her soft palm from the heat.  She takes the glass of juice in her other hand, turns to face the rest of the room without another word.  Luckily, they all were aware of her enough to turn away before she caught them staring.

She slowly walks across the room, in no way resembling the captain that we usually see, the one with the brisk, measured stride.  She passes Chakotay without so much as a glance, then seats herself in the only chair available at the large table crewmen usually sit at. I stand there for a long, horrible moment, staring with every other person in the room:  every person except one.

Chakotay stands, dropping his napkin onto his tray, and leaves, not even glancing at the person who just shunned him.  B'Elanna stands as well, follows him.  The Captain doesn't move, only stares at her bowl, slowly stirring her hot breakfast, then lifts a spoonful to her mouth.  I close my mouth finally, and examine each crewmember's expression, wondering how there could suddenly be so much silence.

No one says a word.  Only the Captain is eating.  Everyone in the room is shocked.  Lieutenant Torres comes back in, sits down next to her husband again.  How could this have happened?  What just happened?

As I stand there, I'm not even aware of the scent of burning eggs, of the fact that a nearby pot is boiling over.  I'm as shocked as the rest of them.  Morale hasn't only been lowered, it's been demolished.  And as I stand there, wondering what I should do next, what I can do, there's only one thing that I really am aware of...

This is not good.
 
 
 
Peeping Tom, Shroy Tuvok ~ part ix
more of Star in Void's Star Trek Voyager fanfic