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THE STRAWBERRY THIEF

BRIEFING ROOM--0810 hours

..."It is a class three vectorless cascading intra-spatial anomaly," explained Seven of Nine patiently to the blank-faced senior staff seated round the Briefing Room table.

"Ookay," said Paris in an ironic tone, earning a small moue of distaste from the ex-drone. "All I want to know is should I fly around it?"

Captain Janeway frowned reprovingly at the helmsman before turning her attention back to Seven. "Perhaps you could explain in more detail," she requested, and with a slight grin added, "for those of us not familiar with Borg spatial-anomaly classifications."

"Intra-spatial," Seven corrected, the faintest hint of humour visible in her eyes. Leaving the view screen still displaying the complex graphic of the phenomenon, she returned to her seat and started to explain to her bemused colleagues exactly what a class three vectorless cascading intra-spatial anomaly was...

..."So," murmured Chakotay and then paused while he collected his addled thoughts. "What you're saying," he continued at last, sounding more confident, "is that we should avoid this anomaly at all costs."

Seven sighed, her patience rapidly reaching its limit. "On the contrary. This anomaly could provide..." She stopped suddenly, a fleeting expression of shock replaced almost instantaneously by one of embarrassment as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I apologise," she said, trying to ignore the puzzled stares of her crewmates.

Kim glanced at Paris and shrugged at his questioning frown.

The Doctor leant forward, concern etched on his face. "Seven, what's wrong?" He brought out his tricorder and began scanning her.

"Nothing is wrong." She shifted in her seat again. "Doctor, there is no need for that. I do not have a medical problem."

"I'll be the judge of that," he retorted and continued scanning her.

"Seven, what is it?" asked the Captain, worried by this uncharacteristic behaviour from her normally unflappable protégé.

"I assure you, Captain, I'm fine. I suggest we continue." By now, there was a pink tinge to the pale woman's cheeks.

Sitting quietly next to Janeway, Tuvok observed the interaction going on around him, one eyebrow raised. He looked across the table from Seven to where Lieutenant Torres sat directly opposite her. The Chief of Engineering was clearly struggling to suppress a grin and seemed to be rocking slightly in her seat, the movements so small they were barely discernible. A suspicion that had been forming for some weeks was now all but confirmed. He was certain that if he looked beneath the table, he would observe Torres' foot engaged in an activity that was completely inappropriate during a staff meeting.

"Are you feeling dizzy?" asked the Doctor, frowning at his readings. "Nauseous?"

"No," Seven replied in a strained voice, blushing now without a doubt, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her as she refused to make eye contact with anyone.

"Can I get you anything?" asked Neelix kindly. "Some medicinal tea perhaps?"

The former Borg shook her head mutely and Tuvok decided it was time to bring the meeting back into focus. "Lieutenant Torres." The engineer started and sat up straight, and Seven breathed a small sigh of relief, laced with a hint of regret. "I believe Seven was going to suggest that this anomaly may be a source of convertible power."

"Uh... yeah... right." B'Elanna visibly gathered her thoughts, having clearly had her mind on other matters. "It should be possible to rig some kind of energy conversion matrix."...

..."Very well," said Janeway briskly, "if that's all, we'll end there. Tom, set a course for the anomaly. B'Elanna, start work on that energy conversion matrix. And Seven, go to Sick Bay and let the Doctor check you over."

"Captain," Seven began to protest, before a look at Janeway's face made her sigh in resignation. "Yes, Captain."

"Okay, dismi..."

"There is just one more thing," broke in Neelix, earning a few irritable glares. "It's about the Jobalian strawberries."

Janeway masked her amusement poorly. "Our strawberry thief been at it again?"

"Captain, with all due respect, this is no laughing matter." Neelix sounded wounded as he tried to impress upon his colleagues the seriousness of the situation. "These strawberries are popular with the crew, not to mention a generous gift from the Jobalian government. You are aware that they're considered a spiritually enlightening fruit?"

Janeway did her best not to laugh, her efforts to maintain a serious expression only partially successful, appearing condescending more than anything. Paris was less retiring. "Spiritually enlightening fruit!" He laughed incredulously. "Just replicate some more, Neelix. The Jobalian government'll never know about it."

The Talaxian bristled at this. "Captain, I must insist that these incidents be treated with the seriousness they deserve. Commander Tuvok seems to be uninterested in the fact that there is a thief aboard Voyager..."

Janeway raised a placating hand. "Neelix..."

Tuvok raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Shall I place the strawberries under armed guard, Mr Neelix?"

"You might try investigating the thefts first," retorted the Talaxian in a rare display of irritation.

"All right, Neelix," broke in Janeway impatiently. "Tuvok," she continued, "look into it. They might only be strawberries, but it is, nevertheless, theft."

"Yes, Captain," the Chief of Security replied, his raised eyebrow now somehow conveying disdain at the emotional behaviour of his colleagues.

"Can't you just lock them up?" asked Chakotay in a reasonable tone.

"I did--last night." With a pointed look at the Vulcan, Neelix continued, "I used my own replicator rations to replicate a Ferengi locking-mechanism, but whoever the thief is, they're good."

The Doctor spoke up in mildly exasperated tones. "I don't understand this sudden strawberry obsession that's gripped the crew."

"That's because you haven't tasted them," murmured a reverential Kim.

"I may have to test them for addictive properties," the EMH continued sourly. "The sooner they're..."

"Okay, everyone," interrupted Janeway, earning a disgruntled look from the Doctor, "I think we've dealt with the strawberry situation now. Dismissed."

Amidst the shuffling of feet and chairs being pushed back, Tuvok watched the little secretive smile that passed between Seven and Torres, watched the way they left the room together in a companionable silence...

MESS HALL--0147 hours

The room was dark and quiet, Neelix having long since cleaned and packed away his cooking utensils and hung up his apron for the night. The chairs were neatly pushed under the tables and the soft glow of the night-lighting made dark shadows pool behind dimly highlighted surfaces and collect in tenebrous masses in the recesses of the Mess Hall. There seemed to be a sense of expectation in the air, as if the quiet stillness was about to be broken by some unusual occurrence--or so it might appear to some observers. To the Vulcan Security Chief, however, it was simply the second of his nightly vigils. He thought little about what may or may not happen, content to hide in the gloom and wait. Around one arm was strapped a device that masked his life-signs from the internal sensors. The computer could have been programmed to ignore his readings, but he didn't want to risk the thief detecting such a ruse. And so, senses finely tuned, body held ready for swift action should it be required, he observed from the shadows like a predator lying in ambush, dwelling little on whether his prey would step into the trap or not, merely watching and waiting patiently. Tonight, that patience was to be rewarded.

A few feet from the food counter, the air began to shimmer and sparkle, a blue luminescence casting a cold glow over the surrounding area. The shining haze seemed to coalesce, and within seconds the light had died, leaving in its wake a barely discernible humanoid figure. Tuvok squinted into the gloom, but it was too dark to make out who it was that had beamed into the Mess Hall. He watched as the thief negotiated the counter and disappeared from view into the kitchen area. Rising silently from his concealment in the shadows, the Chief of Security prepared to close the trap.

As he made his way carefully across the room, his sensitive Vulcan ears picked up the sound of a tiny feminine chuckle. "Neelix, Neelix," the thief murmured to herself in amusement, "you don't think this little lock is gonna stop me?" Shortly, there was a series of electronic beeps and then the distinct clack of a bolt retracting. "Got it," hissed the voice and chuckled again. Following this were soft, furtive noises that Tuvok interpreted as handfuls of strawberries being scooped from the storage chest they were kept in and dropped into some kind of container.

Moving more swiftly now, but still silently, he rounded the counter and entered Neelix's kitchen. Before the thief had a chance to react to his suddenly sensed presence, he spoke. "Computer, lights." Instantly, the room was illuminated and the strawberry thief revealed in all her ignominious glory. Crouching next to a large bowl half-full of the Jobalian fruit and dressed in a red silk robe, the miscreant looked up at him in shock.

"Lieutenant Torres," he said blandly, "can you think of any reason why I shouldn't put you in the brig?"

Pale-faced, the Chief Engineer opened and closed her mouth several times as she fumbled for some kind of excuse. "Tuvok... I... I... it's not what it looks like."

He merely raised an eyebrow at this.

"Okay, it is what it looks like," she admitted shamefully, her body sagging in resignation.

"Indeed," he commented drily and continued, "but I don't believe you are the only person involved in these thefts."

The engineer swallowed. "I don't know what you mean."

"You have an accomplice."

"No! It was just me." She tried to affect a winsomely cheeky grin. "What can I say? I've got a taste for strawberries."

The grin faltered as his stern face expressed his disbelief. "You have stolen several kilos of strawberries during the past week. Are you claiming to have consumed them all on your own?"

"Yes," she protested unconvincingly. "Well, not all of them... some of them got... squashed."

Once more the eyebrow quirked. "Squashed."

B'Elanna grinned weakly again. "Accidents happen." To avoid his accusing stare, the engineer turned her back on him and began to return the pilfered fruit to the storage chest. "So, what now?" she asked in a subdued voice. "I guess you have to tell the Captain."

"Report to me at 0800 hours. We will discuss disciplinary measures then."

"Yes, Commander," she replied respectfully, still unable to turn and look him in the eye, hoping he would leave her to her shame now. He didn't.

When the bowl had been emptied, she closed the lid of the chest and steeling herself, turned back to face him. Slowly, he moved aside from the kitchen entrance and allowed her to pass by, following her back into the Mess Hall. He stopped at the counter as, feeling like a naughty child, B'Elanna crossed to the doors under his stern gaze, Vulcan disapproval seeming to fill the air. Just as she was about to escape his presence, he stopped her.

"Lieutenant."

She turned around, sighing inwardly. "Yes, Commander?"

"When you return to your quarters, inform Seven of Nine that I also expect to see her at 0800 hours." There was no triumphant glee in his eyes, no hint of gloating over his victory to be heard in his voice.

"Yes, Commander," she reiterated in resignation, knowing that denials were pointless. Gloomily, she left the Mess Hall to return to her lover and inform her that they were in a whole lot of trouble.

The End