Murder in the Delta Quadrant

by Kezhke

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters belong to CBS/Paramount.

Synopsis: A murder mystery play on Voyager turns all too deadly. Can Tuvok find out who's responsible for their crewmate's death? Set in the third season, between "Fair Trade" and "Alter Ego," somewhere in the Nekrit Expanse.

Codes: Tu, very mild P/T

Author's Notes: Every time I watch Tuvok in action, I can hear the theme song to Inspector Gadget in my head. We know our fair Voyagers amuse themselves on the holodeck and with shipwide activities like Talent Night, luaus, and First Contact Day. I've decided they must have other recreational activities, like theater.

Chapter 1: The Stage Is Set

"You are cordially invited to attend the premiere of Murder in the Delta Quadrant, a Neelix production, written by Ensign Harry Kim and directed by the Doctor." Tuvok looked up from the padd to see Neelix smiling at him.

"Well, Mr. Vulcan?"

"I shall endeavor to be in attendance, barring any conflict with my duties," Tuvok agreed, handing the padd back.

Satisfied with this answer, Neelix hurried away with the data padd, ready to pounce on the next crew member.

"Good morning, Tuvok." Captain Janeway dropped into the seat across from him without asking permission. He raised at eyebrow at her presumption, but she didn't notice, or – more likely – didn't care.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Have you heard about the play?"

"I have."

"It's quite a production. Harry's not bad as a writer, and the Doctor is a surprisingly good director." Janeway's blue eyes shined as she added, "Lieutenant Nicoletti has the lead. And Tom Paris is in the cast."

"So I have heard."

His comm badge chirped. "Lieutenant Tuvok, please report to the brig."

"The brig?" Janeway asked with curiosity as she raised her coffee mug to her lips.

"A routine diagnostic of the security system has turned up a malfunction in the force field encryption protocols," Tuvok explained as he rose from his seat. "I had intended to inform you at the morning briefing."

"And if we have to lock anybody up before you get the force fields operational again?" she asked with a crooked smile.

Tuvok paused, cocking his head to the side slightly. "Captain, you surprise me. Do anticipate the need for the incarceration of a crew member?"

"Of course not," she assured him. She took another sip of coffee. "We can always give the offending party mess hall duty."

"No doubt a more severe punishment." A quirk of the eyebrow, and Tuvok was gone.

"No, no, no!" the EMH roared. He threw his script across the cargo bay, narrowly missing Tom Paris's head. He stormed onto the stage and repositioned Ensign Pablo Baytart's hand. "Like this," he explained, gesturing with the prop knife. "Otherwise, you would merely tear through several layers of tissue but not actually open the carotid artery enough to kill her."

Baytart rolled his eyes. "But, Doctor, the point isn't to show medical knowledge." He turned Lieutenant Susan Nicoletti sideways and gestured at slashing her throat. "Like this it's more dramatic."

"But it's not believable!"

"Who cares?"

"I am the director!"

"Why don't we take a five-minute break?" Harry Kim interrupted.

The EMH huffed a little as he conversed privately with Kes.

Baytart took the opportunity to approach Harry. "Can't you do something about him?"

Harry shrugged. "He's the director."

Before Baytart could protest, the cargo bay doors rolled open, and Neelix rushed in. "Ensign Kim! Lieutenant Paris! Doctor! I have some disturbing news."

"What is it, Neelix?" Tom asked.

"Lieutenant Tuvok seems to think that – uh – sorry, Mr. Kim – that the motive for murder isn't as – uh – established as it ought to be."

"Tuvok read my script?" Harry asked with surprise.

"Only the first five pages," Neelix explained. He cast his eyes downward. "At which point he deduced the rest of the plot."

Tom stifled a laugh as he clapped a hand on Harry's back. The poor kid looked devastated. "Tough break, Harry."

Harry sighed and turned to the Doctor. "I guess it's back to the drawing board."

"We open in four days!" the Doctor exclaimed frantically.

"I don't know if I can write a new story that fast," Harry admitted.

"Even if you did, I don't think we could all learn the lines by then," Tom added.

"Creative genius takes time," the Doctor chimed in.

"Well," Neelix said to them, his yellow eyes sparkling, "I may have a crazy idea…" The other three leaned forward as he hatched his plan.

"Sue's fierce," Ensign Parsons murmured, but not softly enough for Tuvok's keen Vulcan hearing. "I keep telling her to break it off with Baytart, but she says not until after the play."

"Actors always end up in romance," Crewman White said dismissively. "Something about working on a play together – it brings people together. But it never lasts."

Ordinarily Tuvok would have reprimanded his crew for their extraneous chatter while on duty. However, given that they had virtually nothing to do but wait for assistance from the engineering team, Tuvok could not find a logical reason to order the cessation of their gossip. And Captain Janeway, he knew, was always one to encourage a little small talk on the bridge. She set a tone for the rest of the ship: the crew should enjoy their duty shifts, not look upon them as punishment.

Still, the personal nature of the conversation forced Tuvok to keep his head down, his eyes focused squarely on the console in front of him. He didn't want to stop his crew from discussing personal affairs, but he certainly didn't want to become embroiled in them either.

"She'd better be careful," O'Donnell commented. "Pablo Baytart has a real temper."

"Security alert! Lieutenant Tuvok to Gerron's quarters!"

Tuvok and two of the security officers ran down the corridor and into Gerron's quarters to find the room disheveled. Broken objects were strewn around the room as Gerron and Baytart wrestled on the floor.

The security team quickly separated and restrained the two. From what Tuvok gathered once the men were talking, their quarrel had begun over a stolen holodeck program, a lost bet, and a week's worth of replicator rations. Trivial. Tuvok frowned at the unbecoming display. It was certainly not worth the expertise of the chief security officer. He ordered Ensign Parsons to take charge of the situation and returned to the bridge.

The morning briefing was a short one. With no star systems on sensors, there was little for Ensign Kim or Lieutenant Paris to report. The engines were running fine, B'Elanna Torres relayed. Tuvok reported on the progress his team was making with the enhancements to the brig, a project that he anticipated would go much faster now that B'Elanna had assigned Lieutenant Joe Carey to help.

"In the meantime," Tuvok concluded, "Ensign Baytart and Crewman Gerron are being held in their quarters."

"You have to let Baytart out for the big night." Chakotay swiveled in his chair to look at the captain.

"Agreed. Chakotay will speak with both officers about appropriate conduct, and then you'll release them," she instructed Tuvok. She looked around the table. "We're all on nerves lately. I think this play is just what the doctor ordered."

It had been some time since they'd entered the Nekrit Expanse, and they hadn't seen anything of interest in days. On the bridge, the viewscreen was deactivated. The crew were getting restless. Even Janeway fidgeted in the captain's chair, thinking of all the things she could be doing with her time instead of monitoring the nothingness.

Chakotay was also on duty, though he couldn't figure out why both he and Janeway were necessary. He recrossed his legs and leaned toward the center console. "I hear there have been some fireworks at the rehearsals."

"Oh?" The captain leaned eagerly toward him.

"The Doctor and the leads seem to have some artistic differences."

"And Mr. Paris?" she asked, dropping her voice as her eyes drifted toward the blond troublemaker seated a few meters in front of them.

"Kes tells me Tom is quite cooperative." Chakotay smirked. "Maybe because he likes the role. The rumor is that Harry wrote it especially for him."

Janeway grinned. "The lothario of the Delta Quadrant? I'm sure there are a few women on this ship who'd have something to say about that."

"Better on stage than in real life," Chakotay answered, returning her grin.

"Finally!" Harry Kim exclaimed as his ops console beeped. All eyes on the bridge, including the captain's, turned toward him. "Sorry, Captain. We're picking up something on long-range sensors. Looks like a red giant with a planetary nebula that has some unusual gas."

"On screen."

As the bridge filled with light from the spectacle, Janeway thought she heard Tom Paris, seated in front of her, letting out a soft, "Wow."

"Mr. Kim, you said there was something unusual about the nebula?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm reading large quantities of omicron particles."

"Omicron particles?" Janeway uncrossed her legs and rose in one swift motion. "Let's get a closer look, Mr. Paris." She came toward the helm, resting a hand on Tom's shoulder as he guided Voyager toward the nebula. "Keep us at a safe distance, Tom," she said quietly. "I don't need a replay of that last omicron-rich nebula."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed.

She turned back to Chakotay. "If we could modify the Bussard collectors to capture some of the omicron particles, this would go a long way toward helping our energy reserves."

"B'Elanna will be happy about that."