Vic Fontaine was standing back stage in his usual evening dress, patting down his jacket as he listened to the cacophony of sounds coming from the other side of the curtain. He heard the normal hustle and bustle of the crowd and smelled the fragrance of the food and drink being served as it wafted its way back stage. It seemed to be just another ordinary day at Vic's Lounge.
The band members were tuning up their instruments as Vic was making his last adjustments to his clothes. This is a class joint and I have to look the part, he thought. He had a final look in a mirror and made an adjustment to his bow-tie. Satisfied, he took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage.
The crowd applauded and there were even some wolf-whistles. Vic looked around forlornly. From what he could see, the lounge was only partly full. Amazing how much noise a small number of people can make, he thought as he prepared for his first song.
The vast majority of the few guests present were just holographic characters. The rest of the crowd - if 30 or so people count as a crowd - were non-commissioned Starfleet crew-persons.
Crew-persons, thought Vic. What a funny phrase.
Vic got the distinct impression that they were there simply because they had nothing better to do with their time. One would definitely not describe them as the heart and soul of the party. He was obviously bottom of the list of "Things To Do Before You Die", if he was even in it at all.
Vic knew that he could simply conjure up some more guests just by asking the computer. However, he preferred to keep things as real as possible.
If people don't want to come then that's their loss, he thought, not even convincing himself.
Vic fidgeted with his hands as he continued to look around. He saw that the tables further away from the stage were empty with chairs pushed in. They had obviously not been used and, if recent times were anything to go by, they would remain so.
Behind the bar, the bartenders were standing chatting between them rather than serving. There was simply no one to serve.
There were only two waitresses on duty tonight and they were hardly over-worked.
They were, of course, dressed in the "traditional" wear for waitresses in Vegas. Super-short flayed skirts that left nothing to the imagination and tops that were minimal in size. All-in-all, they were designed to attract as many men as they could. The more men that came to the club, the more they spent their money. That's what Vegas was all about.
Vic walked out to centre stage and picked up his mic from the stand. He then turned to the bank leader and gave him the signal without too much enthusiasm.
The band struck up and Vic launched into the Irving Berlin classic, "Steppin' Out With My Baby."
If I seem to scintillate
It's because I've got a date
A date with a package of
The good things that come with love
You don't have to ask me
I won't waste your time
But if you should ask me
Why I feel sublime...
Vic looked around at the small crowd. The seemed to be mostly enjoying the show but Vic didn't see their faces light up like they used to. Even the holographic characters didn't seem to be overly enjoying themselves.
Amongst the few real people was Vulcan security non-com Sevak. Vic had heard some of the other Starfleet crew talking about trying to persuade some of the emotionless Vulcans to come to the show. He noticed that Sevak was observing both the crowd and him with detached and emotionless curiosity. In other words, he was behaving like a Vulcan.
Vic stepped down off the stage and wandered through the tables while continuing to sing. He performed his usual pirouettes as he danced and spun his way between tables and flirted with the ladies.
He spun his way past a young couple who seemed to be far more interested in their drinks and in each other than they were in him. The young man was nursing a drink and appeared to be trying to pluck up enough courage to ask the girl something. He gave Vic a look that clearly indicated that he should move off.
Vic noticed that Sevak seemed to be looking closely at his back as he made his way around the room. From what Vic could see, it seemed that Sevak was missing the whole point and seemed to be looking at him as if he was expecting him to spout a tail or something.
Meanwhile, Vic made his way back up onto the stage, as the band built up to the conclusion. He finished the song and, even before the music had died down, Sevak turned and left.
Vic accepted the polite applause as he noticed Sevak leave.
A sad, disappointed expression crossed Vic's face. Another dissatisfied customer,he thought. Maybe I should consider excluding Vulcans from his club in the future. It's not as if they were the life and soul of the party.
He tried to smile to his audience but it was very obviously a fake one. His heart simply wasn't into it. He gave the impression he would rather be anywhere else but here.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Thank you, thank you. But I'm afraid it's time for me to say goodnight."
Some of the audience politely moaned but Vic knew that it had not been one of his best shows, by a long shot. In fact, it had been a long time since he had had a performance that he was generally proud of. Things just weren't what they used to be.
"Hey," he said. "Didn't you hear the song? I've got a big night planned tonight!"
He winked playfully and the audience chuckled in response.
"But please, enjoy the rest of your evening. And don't forget to kiss your loved ones goodnight."
Vic returned his mic to its stand and then stepped of the stage and into the wings to the sound of a final round of applause.
In the wings Ginger, the cocktail girl, was standing with a glass of champagne. She handed the drink to Vic who accepted it with a smile. While he sipped the drink, Ginger lightly dabbed his brow with a cloth she was holding.
"Thank you," he replied. There was a definite sad tone to his voice that Ginger did not appear to notice
"Great show tonight, Vic."
"Eh, it was okay," he replied with a total lack of enthusiasm. "Kind of a thin crowd, though. I guess people had better things to do," he said. He had to fight very hard not to add the word 'again'.
"Better than you?" asked Ginger. "Ain't no such thing, Vic honey."
"That would be more convincing if you weren't programmed to say it," replied Vic without thinking.
A confused look passed over Ginger's face and Vic took pity. It was difficult being the only self-aware hologram in the club. Sometimes he wished he was as oblivious to his nature as the rest of the characters were. Would that make the current situation easier or more difficult to accept? Vic wondered. Surely it couldn't be any worse.
At the moment he seemed to be living the worst of both worlds rather than the best. Maybe there is some truth in the saying 'Ignorance is bliss' thought Vic.
"I appreciate the effort. Honestly I do," he said with a smile.
"Now go on," he continued. "I know you got a good night of your own all planned out. I saw you and Bobby swapping googly eyes all through the show. Poor sap could barely keep his drumming straight. Run off now and have a good time."
Ginger giggled bashfully.
"What about you?" she asked
"Doesn't anybody listen? I keep saying I got a big night planned."
"Well, okay. 'Night, Vic."
"'Night, Ginger."
Ginger moved away and Vic took a moment to straighten himself and stepped back out into the main lounge room.
The crowd had thinned even further, with most of the guests having moved on at the end of the night. The waitresses were cleaning up empty glasses, wiping down tables and there was a definite air of closing down for the night. Some of the chairs were already stacked on the tables ready for the cleaners to do their job.
Vic weaved slowly through the club, nodding politely at the lounge's employees and the last remaining guests. Eventually, he reached the entry passage, the small anteroom that leads off the holosuite and into the station.
He couldn't help but smile. Each time he reached that passage it brought back memories of when Frankie Eyes had taken over the lounge. Seeing him led off by a couple of Carl Zeemo's henchmen was still one of the highlights of his time as a performer.
Being hidden from view, he took the opportunity to "change" into something more appropriate for the evening out. Being a sentient hologram had its advantages too. Just wish for different clothes and it happened. He generally preferred to change the "normal" way and had plenty of outfits in his room. However, sometimes he liked to "cheat" in order to save time.
Vic looked down at himself and was pleased with what he saw. His casual, but smart look would help him blend into the crowd. He would have stood out like a sore thumb had he remained in his evening suit.
After his change of clothes, Vic paused. He intertwined his fingers and stretched out his arms turning the backs of his hands towards himself. After untwining his fingers he put his arms behind his back and again intertwined his fingers and repeated his stretching exercise. Holding a mic all evening tended to cause his muscles to tense up and a bit of a stretch always helped to release them.
Satisfied that he was limber, Vic took a deep breath and said "Computer, exit". The wall in front of him disappeared and he saw doors open with a barely audible hiss.
Vic stood there and looked out of the holosuite doors and onto the upper corridor of Quark's bar. The distant sound of drinks clinking and dabo-players cheering came to him.
Then, with a small smile, Vic walked out of the holosuite.
Pulling himself up straight Vic walked along the upper corridor towards the spiral staircases, passing a few station residents sitting at tables who smiled and raised their glasses to him. A few of them he recognised from their visits to his club but mostly they were strangers who he was vaguely familiar with from his past sorties out of the holosuite.
He walked down the spiral staircase, passing more civilians and station crew on the way. Upon reaching the main floor of Quark's bar, Vic paused for a moment to look out over the crowd. It was also late in the night here but the place was still busy. Quark would definitely be in a good mood. Over at the dabo table, Treir was working the crowd with her usual pizzazz and the gamblers were falling over themselves to adore her. Vic smirked at the sight. Girls and money - some things never change.
Quark sidled over to Vic and put his arm around him.
"Vic, my man," he said. "Word has it I missed another spectacular show. I could swear I saw Sevak almost crack a smile."
Well, at least he isn't programmed to say that thought Vic though he was still not convinced. After all, Quark was nothing if not a businessman and, in business, flattery got you everywhere.
"There's only so much I can do, Quark," said Vic. "I ain't a miracle worker."
"Your usual table's ready and waiting for you."
"Thanks, Quark," replied Vic. "You're a gentleman and a scholar."
"Tell that to Ro," replied Quark wryly.
Quark left Vic to his thoughts and headed back to his bar while Vic headed out into the promenade.
The promenade featured its usual mix of crew members, civilians and visiting aliens ambling around and seeing the sights. Looking up to the upper walkway he could see a few Bajorans looking out of the station window in the direction of the wormhole, hoping to get a glimpse of the Celestial Temple, as they called it.
He continued his stroll along the promenade and walked past a Bolian mother with her two young children and one jumja stick between them. As he passed them he couldn't help overhearing the children arguing.
"It's not fair. She's had more of it than I have!" complained the boy.
"Haven't!" protested his sister.
"Have so!" replied her brother pulling on his mother's black shirt.
"Enough you two," their mother said, clearly exasperated. "If you can't share it properly then maybe I will just eat it myself."
Oh, the fun of being young , thought Vic with a small smile as he continued his scroll.
Huddled up on a seat were the Gallamite Boday and the Betazoid civilian Garina Pordany. This was a couple he had seen many times and had watched their relationship blossom from friends to lovers over the past few months.
Vic found it disconcerting that he could see Boday's brain but on a space station with such diversity of life you have to get used to anything and everything. One thing he always chuckled at was the fact that his partner could see his brain AND read his emotions. No secrets here.
The doors to the station's shrine opened and Bajorans began to file out, a low-level prylar at the doorway seeing them out. Amongst the crowd were Major Cenn and Captain Kira. Kira spotted Vic and waved warmly before moving on, chatting with other Bajorans. Kira seemed to be a new person now that her attainting had been reversed.
Vic moved off in the direction of the Security Office, looking through the glass doors as he passed. He saw Ro at her desk busy working, alone as usual. She was obviously still suffering a lot from what happened to her both physically and mentally. However, she didn't seem to want anyone's sympathy so he let her be.
She'll ask for help when she is ready. You can't help someone who doesn't think they need it , thought Vic.
He reached the next spiral staircase and climbed up to the second level.
Emerging onto the second level, near the upper entrance to Quark's bar, he found Quark himself just laying out a drink for him at a small table on the Promenade.
"Vodka and orange, on the rocks, just how you like it," said Quark as he set down the drink. "Destitution knows what you see in the stuff. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a nice refreshing Sluggo Cola?"
Vic smiled at Quark. "I think you know the answer to that one, pallie."
With a roll of the eyes, Quark headed back into the bar while Vic took the seat at the table, picked up the drink and took a slow sip. He sat there for a few minutes and then sighed and looked up and out of the window, out onto the star-speckled blackness of space. The contrast between his 1960s club and this 24th century space station was so amazing that it still made him stare in amazement, even after all this time. Cradling his glass in his hands, he stood up and walked over to one of the viewports.
Vic stood there looking out at the starscape and thinking about the night ahead and what he had planned.
Big night .
