DISCLAIMER: Star Trek: Voyager and all its characters belong to Paramount Pictures; no infringement of copyright is intended. The story however belongs to me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this story for VAMB's very first "Picture Prose Contest". The picture in question (#2) showed a typical bridge scene with Paris at the helm and Janeway and Chakotay standing at the center of the bridge − but Janeway's hair was short and spiky, and a dark shade of purple. Many thanks to Quantumsilver and Gates Hepburn for organizing the contest, to Audabee for the technical details, and to Rachael Gold for the inspiring image.
This story actually won the contest for picture #2. Thank you everyone who voted for it! :-)
Written February/March 2013.
Red Alert
by Hester (hester4418)
Sunlight streamed in through broad windows, dancing over the row of plants that lined one side of the cream colored room. Softly splashing water from a small indoor fountain created a soothing background sound, intended to induce a relaxing atmosphere.
Only two people were in the room, one male, one female.
Kathryn Janeway moaned with pleasure as strong hands went about their work, massaging her with just the right amount of pressure. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back at a comfortable angle, and she felt the stress of the last few days melt away.
Several minutes later, the hands moved down their paths one final time, smoothed over the back of her neck and then withdrew.
Janeway opened her eyes, dark blue orbs looking up into their brown counterparts. "That was wonderful. Thank you."
"Ah, Cathérine, you know it is always my pleasure."
The short, slim man flexed his fingers. She came to him once a month, and it was as much for the massage as for what else he would do for her. He was a master of his trade, and she trusted no one else with this delicate business.
"So, what will it be today?" he asked, his thick French accent a clear indicator of his provenience. "Just the usual again?"
Janeway thought she detected a trace of boredom in the hologram's voice. She smiled. "Actually, Pierre, I think I'm in the mood for something new."
Pierre perked up immediately. "Cathérine, do you mean it? Will you finally let me tame your glorious mane?"
The captain threw her head back and laughed.
Pierre was cute, and very French, and unmistakably gay. All of that made him good company, and an even better hairdresser. And his scalp massages were divine.
Unfortunately, he also had a bit of a daring streak. Several months ago, he had convinced her to try a traditional Andorian hairstyle. She hadn't known what that would involve, but trusted him enough to just let him go ahead while she lost herself in an old-fashioned paper novel. She rarely had the time to read for pleasure, and her sessions with Pierre always provided a well deserved opportunity to forget about ship's business for a few fleeting hours.
The more than one hundred small braids, intricately woven around each other and pinned up to form elaborate ornaments around her head, had been stunning. She had truly admired his artistry, and had told him as much. Unfortunately, it had taken almost two hours to return her hair to its customary state, and by the end of the procedure she was wary of letting him try anything new anytime soon. So for the past five months, she'd only let him trim the ends.
For as long as Janeway could remember, her hair had always been long, but she had rarely worn it down. It got tangled too quickly, and easily snagged on something. Throughout most of her childhood and teenage years, she had kept it in a high ponytail.
One of her first days at Starfleet Academy, she had realized that regulations basically left her three choices: a bun, a low ponytail or braid, or a haircut. She'd gone with the ponytail most of the time and reserved the bun for official functions.
Years later, when she made lieutenant commander, she found that the bun gave her an extra edge. The severe look often seemed to intimidate her counterparts, and being rather small of stature she could use all the advantage she could get. Thus hairpins had become her most faithful companions on her way to attaining the rank of captain. Over the years, she had perfected the art of putting up her hair within a minimum of time. By now she was so adept at it that she was able to calmly reach up in the middle of a crisis and fix any loose strands without conscious thought.
But in truth, she was getting tired of it.
"I was thinking a little shorter, more practical," she said and watched Pierre's eyes light up. "And maybe a bit more red?"
"Red? Oh, yes, you will make a lovely redhead!"
He immediately went about gathering his supplies. Janeway leaned back again, surreptitiously hiding a yawn. She hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night, and the warmth of the room and the soothing sounds were making her drowsy.
When Pierre started running brushes and combs of various sizes through her hair, Janeway let her eyes drift closed. Soon, she was fast asleep.
-==/\==-
The captain was unceremoniously jolted awake when her body crashed to the floor without warning. Rubbing her bruised tailbone, she quickly got to her feet. The holodeck was bare and did not respond when she tried to reinitialize the program. Her communicator was dead as well. It came as no surprise then that the doors did not react to her approach, either, and she was forced to resort to a manual override.
It was only when she was finally out in the dimly lit corridor, jogging toward the nearest turbolift with red alert klaxons blaring in her ears, that she realized how light her head felt.
Once she was safely inside the lift and speeding toward the bridge, she reached up a hesitant hand and groaned. "Oh, Pierre, what have you done?"
Janeway cursed the non-reflective surfaces that surrounded her, but before she could dwell on her predicament the lift opened onto the bridge. She felt the urge to hesitate but quenched it immediately, dropping her hand to her side.
"Report!"
If anyone noticed her altered appearance, they gave no outward sign of it. She had to give them credit for that. Smooth as clockwork, the different stations called out status updates while she moved to the center of the bridge.
"Two unidentified vessels intercepted us and immediately opened fire. No response to our hails so far."
"No structural damage from the initial attack. Sickbay reports no serious injuries."
"Shields are holding at 78 percent but are weakening. These ships are using a type of energy we have not encountered before, and it is interfering with several systems. Internal communications have been rendered inoperative. All non-essential systems have been shut down."
That at least explained the non-responsive communicator and holodeck.
"Scans also indicate the presence of another type of weaponry, but its capacity is unknown at present."
Janeway swung around to look at the Vulcan security chief and tactical officer. "Recommendations?"
"Retreat," Tuvok answered immediately.
Before he could elaborate, Chakotay spoke up. "I concur, Captain. They attacked without warning and are obviously not interested in talking to us. Since we don't know what their weapons are capable of, retreat appears to be our safest option."
They exchanged a quick glance, and Chakotay's gaze briefly strayed upwards. Despite the severity of the situation, she could see the laughter dancing in his eyes, but his expression betrayed nothing.
The ship rocked under another volley of enemy fire. Janeway made a quick decision. "Agreed. Mr. Paris, bring us about. Heading 180 mark 155, warp 6."
"Coming about," Paris replied tersely, trying to dodge more energy bursts while he turned the ship back the way they had come. "Engaging warp drive."
"Enemy ships are pursuing, but holding fire for the moment," Kim informed them just as the captain and first officer were taking their seats.
"Keep monitoring them," Janeway ordered.
Silence descended on the bridge as Voyager streaked through space, warping away from the unknown assailants.
Under the pretense of reviewing some data on their shared console, Chakotay opened a simple text window and typed in a few words. Then he signaled Janeway. "Captain, would you have a look at this?"
She leaned over and read what he had written. What's with the hair?
Her head snapped up and she glared at him. Then she sighed inwardly. The barely concealed grin tugging at his lips told her that he wasn't going to drop the matter, regardless of the red alert.
It's all your fault, she wrote back, and watched him digest her statement. One dark eyebrow rose in silent questioning.
She leaned over further and typed rapidly. If you hadn't kept me up all night, I wouldn't have fallen asleep on Pierre.
Chakotay snorted, then deliberately coughed to hide his amusement.
Paris shot a quick look over his shoulder, but immediately faced forward again when he encountered Janeway's hard glare.
Then two heads bent low over the console as Janeway read what Chakotay was writing.
I sincerely hope that you didn't literally fall asleep ON Pierre. She made to interrupt him, but he caught her hand and grinned silently, then continued writing. And as for who kept up whom, I think
"Captain," Kim's voice suddenly rang out, causing his commanding officers to jump slightly.
Janeway snatched her hand from Chakotay's grasp. With the touch of a button she erased their exchange before she rose and turned her full attention on the operations officer. "Yes, Mr. Kim?"
"Both enemy ships have broken off their pursuit. We must have cleared the border of their space."
"Mr. Paris, maintain course and speed for another ten minutes, just to be on the safe side."
"Yes, Ma'am." Paris' fingers danced over his console, checking for obstacles in their path.
-==/\==-
Exactly twelve minutes later, the senior staff convened in the briefing room. Janeway had been so caught up in the events that she had completely forgotten about her hair problem. Now that the crisis had passed, she became acutely aware of everyone trying to stare without being obvious about it.
If only she'd had the time to swing by a mirror and see what they were seeing. But it couldn't be helped now.
"All right, people, let's get started." She waited until the murmur of conversation had died down and everyone's eyes were directed her way. She watched them, letting her gaze trail over each of them in turn. None of them so much as flinched. She really had trained them well.
"Before we start analyzing what happened, there is one other matter I'd like to discuss." Janeway allowed a wry grin to creep over her face and indicated her head with a flourish of one hand. "Just how bad is it?"
Stunned silence followed her words. From the looks on their faces, she knew she had managed to thoroughly surprise them.
Finally, Chakotay cleared his throat, but it was Paris who spoke first.
"Frankly, Captain, I've seen prison cuts that were more flattering."
After another second of shocked silence, the room suddenly exploded with laughter.
"That bad, huh?" Janeway managed, running both hands through her woefully short hair and pulling at the ends as if that could make the strands grow longer. "So it doesn't suit me at all?"
"The color, maybe," Chakotay forced out between chuckles. "The cut, oh no."
"Color?" Janeway blanched.
"Let's just say that it gives a whole new meaning to the term 'red alert'."
The captain groaned and dropped her face into her hands.
"It could be worse," Paris ventured.
"How so?"
"Well, there's also yellow alert, and blue alert..."
Janeway shot him a withering look which immediately shut him up.
Chakotay put a comforting hand on her arm. "The Doctor should be able to help you out with a follicle stimulator."
She groaned again. "But that will take hours!" Nonetheless, she knew he was right. There was no way she was going to wait for the cut to grow out naturally, never mind that she hadn't even seen it yet.
Chakotay's grin turned mischievous. "Indeed. You'll probably be up all night." He didn't say 'again', but she heard it in his tone.
She calmly looked him straight in the eye. "I might need help."
With a sweep of his hand he indicated the whole room, but his eyes never left hers. "I'm sure everyone here would be glad to assist you."
"I'll keep that in mind." After another beat, she abruptly faced forward again. "On the matter of those unidentified ships..."
As the meeting got down to business, Paris couldn't help stealing another glance at the command duo. Their words had been perfectly innocent, and their voices as cool as if they had been discussing the latest long-range scanning results, but he'd be damned if there hadn't been sparks flying between them.
Maybe it was time to reopen one particular betting pool − but first he would take a look at the captain's holographic hairdresser. There was some definite unexplored potential in that program...
-==/ The End \==-