CHAPTER FOUR.
"I've noticed an uncommon buzz among the crew," Kathryn Janeway said, leaning over so that her face was quite close to Chakotay's. "Have you also noticed it?"
"The crew is like this all the time. Maybe you give them the shivers when you pass them in the corridors, Captain."
Chakotay smiled as he spoke. Kathryn patted his hand on the console between them. "You know something."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ensign Paris," she whispered as she glanced quickly at Tom's back, "has more free hours than anyone on board Voyager. Why is that, I wonder?"
"Maybe he won rations playing pool against every crewman on board."
"Except me."
Chakotay shook his head then settled himself in his chair. He glanced at her, his dimpled smile still not giving away anything. She wondered what he was thinking. She wasn't going to get anything out of him even if she tickled him mercilessly.
Something was up. She sensed it. Even Naomi beat a hasty retreat whenever she passed Voyager's youngest member in the corridors. They were traveling through benign space. Nothing of any interest, an uneventful time in which the crew were likely to suffer from cabin fever, with too much free time on their hands. It was time she roped in Neelix to devise some activities to break the crew's boredom. Bored? She amended that thought. They weren't bored. The opposite was true. She could swear they were all in on a secret pact. The buzz was all around her as she walked the corridors in the evening, or visited the sickbay or mess hall. Cabin fever or boredom it could not be, she decided.
In the last week there had been no incident with Tom Paris. Soon after Tom had been to see her, she'd called Dalby and his sidekicks to her ready room and dressed them down in no uncertain terms.
"I'm placing you on report," she bit out finally. "No rations and no holodeck privileges for a month."
"Captain," Dalby began, apparently not fazed by her punishment, "it will not happen again. It was very wrong of us. Mr Paris just..."
"What, Mr Dalby?"
"Did something I would have been too cowardly to do."
"And for that you ambushed him?"
"He's a better man than I am. I'm sorry."
Dalby certainly looked remorseful when he spoke. Heroism was not always about saving the distressed, she thought. It was about accepting the consequences of one's deeds too. Many were envious of that. Dalby simply took envy out in beating Tom.
She'd let them go. She wasn't going to let them know they got what they deserved, or that she was glad Tom beat the hell out of Dalby. That was certainly a very uncaptain-like attitude. But she was glad it was over for Tom. He'd defended himself in the face of an attack by three villains. When she'd spoken to Tom earlier, she sensed rather than him telling her, "What was I supposed to do? Lie down and let them beat the crap out of me? My life was in danger and I defended myself. They had it coming anyway."
Now Tom's rations grew like weeds in a garden. What on earth was he doing with them? Chakotay wasn't telling. He was behind everything. Whatever that 'everything' was.
So she sat back and relaxed in the command chair and studied Tom as he navigated Voyager through the Remargin Cluster. She'd negotiated Voyager's passage through it a month ago. They needed friends in the Delta Quadrant, and the Remargins were friendly races.
"Tom is a good man, Kathryn," Chakotay said, while looking straight ahead of him.
Damn Chakotay.
"I know."
Two days before Captain Janeway's birthday, Tom surveyed his handiwork in the holodeck. Most of the senior crew and those crew who were off duty would be accommodated here. There was a large dance hall where tables were placed all along the walls of the lower floor. A balcony right round the walls formed the upper section where patrons would watch the bawdy dances below. From the ceiling hung gas lit chandeliers. This provided the only light in the dance hall, giving the entire room a dark moody ambience.
Thirty crewmembers had relinquished their holodeck privileges to Tom so that he could have enough time to design the holoprogramme.
"Don't worry, Tom," some of them said, "it's a real pleasure for us that we could do this for the captain. She deserves a little joy in her life, and we just know she'll be astonished!"
Tom knew they would most likely be on duty during the festivities and would watch it on monitors. It was a sacrifice. He felt more a heel than ever before that they'd do it for him too. They treated him with the same respect now than before his demotion. Even Dalby's attitude towards him changed.
He'd placed some holodeck characters randomly throughout the hall downstairs and on the balcony. He felt a sudden rush of excitement. Some of the characters were famous in their day, others just strange hangers on.
"The Moulin Rouge?" Susan Nicoletti had exclaimed. "Tom, that's wonderful! Shall we meet some famous people?"
"Oh, yes, Captain Janeway will be there," he'd quipped. Susan burst out laughing.
"Come on! Give!"
But he'd been secretive about that too. Didn't want to give away too much. Now, Old Jean, the caretaker, was busily sweeping the already pristine floors. La Goulue and Valentin, the Boneless Wonder, were practicing their dance routines. Valentine was contorting his arms, legs and body, it seemed, around La Goulue. Then they'd stop, only for La Goulue to fly at Valentin for not contorting enough.
In the corner, away from the buzz of activity, he'd placed a famous artist of the time. He was very short. An illness during childhood caused his legs to stop growing. Yet those short legs supported a well formed upper body. He looked morose as he nursed his drink. A walking stick was hooked over the armrest of his chair. Tuvok had asked if he could bring in a pen and a sketch pad so that Toulouse-Lautrec could sketch some of the dancers and he'd be able to bring the sketchings out of the holodeck.
Susan Nicoletti had entered the holodeck, awed by her surroundings. She carried her oboe under her arm.
"You said we could come and rehearse."
Tom smiled as he walked towards her. "Of course, Susan. You're welcome. Stay as long as your free time allows."
"Thank you."
"Anything in particular you're going to play?"
"Do you have the piano?"
"Just managed to fit it in. It's an upright. Over there."
Susan looked in the direction Tom nodded, her eyes widening when she saw who was seated at the piano.
"Maestro Barenboim!"
"Thought you might like that. Go ahead. I won't disturb you."
"You're going overboard, Paris, here in Paris."
Tom swung round. Toulouse-Lautrec's voice sounded like the EMH when he spoke.
"You would too, if you saw her."
"Who?"
"Captain Janeway."
"A woman is a captain?"
"Ah, yes."
"Captain Janeway... You think of her always."
"Now don't get ahead of yourself, Lautrec. Stick to what you do best."
"That is to observe sewer rats like you," came the instant retort. "They come here, sit on the balconies with the rest of the Paris rich, fall for the wrong women entirely and then drown themselves in cognac or the Seine. God, I do so hate immortalising sewer rats."
"You are a nobleman yourself, Lautrec. Don't forget that."
"I get what I want here," Lautrec retorted, looking at Jeanne Avril with narrowed eyes. Paris had no doubt what Lautrec meant.
"I should throw you out of the Moulin Rouge."
"Then who would draw La Goulue's gyrations so beautifully?"
Tom laughed. His dialogue parameters for Lautrec worked perfectly. He was eager to see Janeway versus Lautrec versus the Doctor.
"La Goulue is showing too little ankle, you sewer rat."
Again, Tom couldn't help chuckling, his spirits lifted. Susan played beautifully, accompanied by Daniel Barenboim. In a few minutes B'Elanna and her troop of females would barge in here to rehearse their routines for the Captain's surprise party.
At the end of Alpha shift, Kathryn Janeway made her way to holodeck two. Whatever was happening, she was dead certain Chakotay was behind it. A first officer no doubt assisted by the crew of her ship. She'd wanted quiet. She'd wanted to lie back with a good book perhaps, or just listening to good music. Even better, she'd wanted time to simply repose and reflect on just over four years of traveling in the Delta Quadrant. She had no time for anything except to get her ship and crew home.
Home was still so far away...
Earlier in the day, Chakotay entered her quarters with a dress draped across his arm.
"You have to wear this," he'd said without preamble.
"Really?"
"Don't be dense, Captain. I'm under orders."
"From whom, I wonder?"
"Just get into that dress." Chakotay had turned and left her quarters without saying another word.
She'd taken the delicate dress from him. It looked like late nineteenth century, she surmised. Would that be the period of the holodeck programme, if indeed it was an ancient setting?
The dress fitted her perfectly. A narrow bodice with skirt that billowed about her feet in soft frills. She pinned up her hair so that it more or less suited the period. She passed some crew on their way to their duty shifts. They greeted her and smiled before hurriedly scurrying past her. They didn't look surprised at what she was wearing. Once she turned to look at two crewmembers who looked like they were whispering behind her back. She just smiled and continued. What the heck.
Chakotay's request had been succinct. "Captain, please be in holodeck 2 at 1900. If you're not there, B'Elanna will transport you there."
"That sounds like a threat, Commander."
"Oh, yes, we'll resort to blackmail to get you there. Last time you were in the holodeck was - "
" - to play Velocity against Tom Paris. Fat lot of good that did me."
"You lost?"
"Let's just say we decided to call it quits."
"Now that's not Kathryn who doesn't know how to quit," Chakotay had retorted, smiling his familiar dimpled smile.
"And I'm not falling for those dimples, Commander."
"You do not like this face?"
"You are evil. I suspect there's a conspiracy afoot. Besides, you never forget birthdays. I would receive your birthday wishes in the early hours of the morning, while I'm still half asleep."
His sheepish grin was all she needed to convince her they were planning something for her. She so hated surprises. Her initial feeling of being letdown because not a single member of her senior crew had wished her happy birthday was bolstered by the fact that she now knew they were throwing her a party. .
She had no time really for celebrations. Not for herself, at least. She had no issues being happy for her crew whenever they celebrated anything like birthdays, engagements, even one wedding. But for herself? Last year they'd also tried to surprise her. Neelix had been behind the whole thing. The Talaxian had been unable to keep his mouth shut and she'd known early on they were planning a birthday surprise. Neelix was a goodhearted, ebullient mess hall sergeant, but he was no good at keeping things under wraps.
Which made her think Neelix had nothing at all to do with whatever was happening in the holodeck.
"Surprise, my foot. I'm going to do my best to be completely and insanely astonished tonight," she said to herself.
Down the corridor she was waylaid by Naomi Wildman who smiled broadly at her.
"Good evening and happy birthday, Captain Janeway. "
"Thank you. Good evening to you too, Naomi. Shouldn't you be in your quarters?"
"No, Captain. Mom gave me permission to view the stellar charts from the Astrometrics Lab."
"Who is on duty there in the Astrometrics Lab?"
"Megan Delaney."
"No one else?"
"Oh no, Captain. They're all in - "
Naomi clapped her little hands over her mouth. Her eyes widened like saucers. Kathryn wanted to laugh at how comical the girl looked with hand-covered mouth.
"Where are they, my little assistant?"
"I'm not supposed to say anything. Gotta go!"
Naomi rushed past her and dived around the next corner. Janeway looked back just in time to see a head bobbing quickly behind a bulkhead. She shook her head, smiling as she continued.
"Maybe I should just let myself go and enjoy the moment...or moments," she murmured softly as she approached the holodecks.
She keyed in the codes and waited for the holodeck doors to open.
Inside the Moulin Rouge there was a suspenseful atmosphere. Tom's heart raced. What if she didn't like it? The last three years she'd been just pleased about the surprises Neelix arranged. This was different. The Moulin Rouge was his new recreation. In truth, he'd had this idea for years, but then he'd been sowing wild oats when following through an idea had been the last thing on his mind.
He studied the crew and holograms around him. Tuvok stood with a tall flute in his hand, ready to start the moment the captain arrived. B'Elanna and her dance troupe of Seven, Mariah Henley, Ensign DuBarry and Moulin Rouge regulars were all set in their dresses full of ruffles and frills, each dress a different bright colour. They wore fishnet stockings. Seven of Nine had looked askance at her outfit and asked, "They wore this in 1890?" He'd replied they were special dresses for a special dance. B'Elanna was in red, a colour she insisted suited her best.
Susan, always so quiet and reserved, stood next to Daniel Barenboim. Lautrec had curved his lips in a dark sneer and remarked, "Too many women. I like it."
Chakotay stood next to him, holding two champagne glasses.
"What are you giving the captain?" he'd asked Chakotay.
"Just a small something. What about you?"
Tom spread his arm in a flourish. "This."
Chakotay smiled, his eyes not on Tom, but B'Elanna. Tom grinned. One morning he'd cornered the first officer in the mess hall before leaving for his duty shift. He'd seen Chakotay looking mighty close to Torres. She'd given him a rather awkward smile. When he and Chakotay left together, they paused at the turbolifts.
"You don't mind?" Chakotay asked.
"Now-now, Chak, I didn't think you're the type to ask."
"She was your girlfriend, Paris."
"It ended amicably. The best kind of ending, mind you. No, I'm happy for you."
"Shall I thank you?"
"Why not? Your life belongs to me, remember?"
They were greater friends than they had been at the beginning, when Chakotay had called him a good-for-nothing latinum-monger.
"This," Chakotay said, breaking into Tom's meandering thoughts, "is something else."
"Thanks. Had this idea for years. Just never got round to doing it."
"The perfect setting, in my opinion."
They were quiet again while the activity continued in the dance hall. Tom thought of the past few weeks when he and the captain had had such toxic altercations. Altercations which ended in precarious truces. Why was it continuing? Why were they arguing every time they were alone somewhere? He was puzzled by what was happening. He'd transgressed, he'd been punished, demoted, thrown in the brig. He'd taken his punishment like a man. He'd been hounded by crew who beat him senseless just for the fun of it. He'd told her he'd accepted her decisions, that they were in accordance with Federation rules.
He never consciously tried to get in her good books, or restore the status quo. So why could they not be like they were before? Like drinking tea in her ready room, discussing books, old films, history, wine, the twentieth century of which he was so fond.
It was her eyes. They still haunted him, eyes that got him out of bed long before he was supposed to, eyes that wouldn't let him sleep. Every time he thought that some accord between them could be achieved, her eyes unsettled him and undid the always creeping new resolve he'd craved.
If he could get past that.
He had to admit he was feeling damned nervous. He hoped no one noticed his hands shaking or his heart racing like mad. Everything tonight, his peace of mind, his place in Janeway's orbit depended on how she would react to what he had to offer.
The atmosphere was sociable. The crew wore the fashions of late nineteenth century Paris. They'd moaned but played along good-naturedly. B'Elanna had brooked no resistance from Seven of Nine or her team about wearing the flouncy can-can dresses.
He'd selected Offenbach's Gaîté Parisienne Ballet Suite, music he considered fitting for the occasion. Some of the Moulin Rouge hologram regulars he'd recreated were already dancing. For once La Goulue's mood was pleasant as she smiled her way through Valentin's gyrations. Toulouse-Lautrec was busy sketching away, the ubiquitous wine-filled glass never far from his hand. He'd had a mind to recreate Emile Zola as company and let them bounce retorts off each other. He scuttled the idea. Too many holograms. Susan was standing next to Daniel Barenboim waiting for her cue.
He gave an audible sigh. Chakotay nudged him.
"How are you doing?"
"If you must know, I'm pretty nervous."
"Hey, no one will die from nervousness."
"Oh, I know. It's just...she might not like it."
"She likes everything you do, Paris." Chakotay paused, then, "Almost everything."
This time Paris elbowed Chakotay. "For that I ought to let La Goulue over there latch on to you for the entire evening!"
"I'd like to see her and B'Elanna go head to head."
"B'Elanna will wrapped her head around her - "
"Ouch!"
Tom laughed, the mood lightened. "Well, it's almost time."
"Is your little mole ready?"
Just as Tom was about to answer, his commbadge beeped.
"Naomi Wildman to Mr Paris!"
"Paris here, Naomi. Have you spotted her?"
"Yes! The Captain just passed me. She's near the holodeck doors!"
"What, so close?"
"I think she knows something, Mr Paris! There, she's right by the doors!"
"Thank you, sweet Naomi. Enjoy the view from Astrometrics. Paris out."
"She's coming!" Chakotay shouted.
Everyone scurried to attention, holding up their champagne flutes filled with holographic wine. The doors opened.
The doors to holodeck two slid open and Kathryn stepped inside. Instantly, orchestral music played. There was a noise that rose up. High pitched voices, excitement that pulsated through the room. She recognised the music as the overture to Offenbach's Gaite Parisienne. All eyes were on her. Of its own volition, her hand came up to cover her mouth. Then the guests broke spontaneously in raucous unison.
"Happy birthday to you!"
They were all in period costume. She was dazed. She blinked hard several times. Her fingers dug painfully into the palms of her hand. Was she about to faint? It appeared as if a haze settled over the heads of the people. Exactly like a smoke-filled room, lit by...gaslight. Smiling faces swelled towards her then receded. Was she in a dream? They leaned forward, touching her shoulder, her arms. Soft voices wished her happy birthday again, louder voices exclaimed, "Give the lady room! She's about to expire on her birthday!" Glasses were raised. The fog lifted. The buzz in her ears receded.
The Moulin Rouge.
Complete with the music she'd always associated with it. Crew and holograms mixing. If she had a thousand scenarios in mind, she couldn't have imagined this one.
She saw Tom Paris raising his glass, smiling roguishly. Chakotay appeared and propped a glass in her hand.
"Chakotay?"
"Happy birthday, Kathryn, from all of us," he said softly before kissing her on the cheek.
A lump formed in her throat, leaving her speechless. If she didn't control herself, she would burst into tears. This was unexpected, unreal. Faces that had appeared hazy now came into focus. Lieutenant Torres, Seven of Nine, Mariah and Ensign DuBarry were dressed like can-can dancers. Tuvok looked...Tuvok, upright and prissy in top hat and gentleman's overcoat. Susan Nicoletti was tucked away in a corner, next to a gentleman at the piano. All of them looked so joyful.
She saw two dancers in the middle of the floor. Undoubtedly the Moulin Rouge's most famous dancers, La Goulue and Valentin who left his partner and sauntered to her. His lithe body moved like a snake. The Boneless Wonder, they called him.
He extended a very long arm and hand in a grand flourish and declared, "I shall dance with you next, my lady." Then he wanted to take hold of her. She heard the crew laugh. Tom Paris quickly intervened, pushing Valentin away.
"Not a chance, you boneless eel!" he said, smiling as he led her to a table. The music continued playing. All she needed to see now was the most famous patron of the Moulin Rouge. She looked down her row of tables and saw him sitting alone, his cane perched over the arm of his chair. He tipped his hat when he saw her.
"Toulouse-Lautrec."
"Yes, ma'am," Tom replied.
"And this is all your work?"
"Guilty."
"Well, I must say I am really more than surprised."
"Thank you, Captain," he said, their eyes locked for several heady moments.
Chakotay might have been the organiser, or B'Elanna and her troupe of dancers, but Tom Paris, lately demoted to ensign, had recreated the Moulin Rouge in Paris with breathtaking accuracy.
She knew she would thank him later. Right now, Chakotay began to address the guests.
"We wanted to do something special for the captain. So far it seems we have succeeded. Captain Janeway is still too stunned to speak! Let us toast the master and commander of intrepid Voyager..."
It went by in a whirl. They toasted, drank to her health and good fortune. She thought she would drown in goodness!
Chakotay introduced the next act.
She could only look on in wonder as they cleared the dance floor and B'Elanna and her troupe stepped up. The famous can-can music started. Kathryn laughed out loud when the ladies picked up their ruffles and fluffed them in the faces of the male patrons. It was a lively act, full of energy and enthusiasm. When the dance ended her eyes welled with tears as Ensign DuBarry and Mariah smiled broadly at her.
B'Elanna stepped forward and hugged her.
"Captain Janeway, that was our gift for you today. Happy birthday!"
"Thank you!"
Soon the upright piano was pushed to the middle of the floor. Susan Nicoletti was ready to play her oboe.
"A short recital, Captain. Mr Paris kindly recreated Daniel Barenboim, famous pianist of the twentieth century to accompany me."
Kathryn nodded, smiling dazedly.
Susan played the famous barcarolle so exquisitely that Kathryn felt like weeping again.
"Come here, Susan," Kathryn requested and when Susan complied, Kathryn hugged her fiercely. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much..."
Chakotay stepped forward and presented her with a pocket watch and chain.
She stared wide-eyed at him. Tears were never far from falling.
"Captain," he started, "I present you with this pocket watch. It is a replica of the watch that belonged to a nineteenth century sea captain. His ship was hit by a typhoon, thought lost forever until he sailed his torn and tattered vessel into London Harbour eight months later."
The symbolism was not lost on her. A tear rolled down her cheek. Her crew had so much faith in her. Her mission had always been to bring Voyager home, no matter what.
"Thank you, Chakotay."
Behind her Tom Paris nodded to the next person to present something. A young crewmember stepped forward. He looked so shy, Kathryn wanted to get up and touch his shoulder to comfort him. He held a book in his hand which he opened slowly at the bookmarked page.
"Captain, I wish to read a poem..."
Gerron read Walt Whitman's "O Captain, my captain!" in such a well modulated tone that she wondered how long it had taken him to practice. It was a stirring rendition that tugged at her heart strings. Again, she was struck by the symbolism of a captain who did everything humanly possible to sail his ship into harbour. The guests applauded enthusiastically while Gerron smiled shyly as he rejoined his group of friends.
Yes, she thought, she'd give her life to bring Voyager home.
Kathryn turned to look at Tom. He stood just behind her looking strangely nervous. He gestured to Tuvok who stepped forward to present her with a little scroll.
"Best wishes, Captain. I commissioned Toulouse-Lautrec to do this for you. You may take it out of the holodeck since I have replicated both sketch pen and paper."
Kathryn opened the scroll to see her face captured in pure awe as she surveyed her surroundings minutes after she entered the holodeck. It was stunning. Simple lines, quick swatches across the paper, her face as she'd likely looked when she asked Tom Paris, "Is this your work?"
"Thank you, Tuvok!"
"I think you should thank Lautrec, Captain. May I say, he captured you perfectly."
She stole a glance at Toulouse-Lautrec who raised his glass in acknowledgement. All she could do was just nod. Words were gone. They were simply impressions, reactions given in nods of the head, mouthing thanks, smiling or hugging as crewmembers stepped forward to wish her a happy birthday. A blur of movement, flaring dresses, dancing, drinking of holographic wine, joining holograms in boisterous fun. Seven of Nine dancing with the Boneless Wonder - a wonder in itself. Gerron, filled with newly formed boldness claiming one of the holograms for a dance. All the time the music of Offenbach filled the room.
And her tears. They were never far from her. She didn't care that her crew witnessed them. They were proud tears.
"And now, Captain Janeway will give a speech," Chakotay announced to the animated guests. They all echoed Chakotay, demanding she say something.
She rose to her feet, glanced about the room, tried to make eye contact with every one of her crew. She knew many were not able to attend, though she was assured they were watching all the proceedings.
"My loyal crew, I thank you for this magnificent surprise. It has, I can tell you, exceeded all my expectations. Before I came to the Moulin Rouge, I told myself "Well, another year, another surprise. I will do my best to be completely and insanely astonished tonight. I didn't have to try! From the moment I stepped inside, I was completely blown away. Thank you all for your lovely gifts, everyone who pitched in and offered their rations so this wondrous recreation of the Moulin Rouge could be made possible. I thank especially Ensign Paris who I know is the creator of this programme."
She turned and glanced at Tom who stood just a little distance behind her and gave him a nod. He didn't smile. He looked tense.
"Thank you, Tom," she added softly.
They continued the festivities for about thirty minutes. Then the music stopped abruptly.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," Chakotay began. "This is the end. When you have collected sufficient rations you can enjoy this holoprogramme at a later stage. We leave Captain Janeway to savour the last few moments here. Scram, everyone!"
They began leaving one by one, still laughing, singing and dancing animatedly.
"Not you, Paris," Chakotay ordered when everyone had left and he saw Tom moving as well.
Kathryn looked sharply at Chakotay and frowned.
"This is your time alone with Tom, Kathryn. Make it good, okay?" he said.
He kissed her cheek briefly before he too left. She turned to look at Tom, who looked like he was afraid to smile.
"Tom?"
END CHAPTER FOUR