Harry Kim's laughter rang across the bridge, cutting like
a knife through a silence born from the boredom of the past two weeks, which
Voyager had spent crossing a remarkably unremarkable expanse of space.
Chakotay turned around, unable to prevent a smile from spreading
across his face. Harry's laughter was infectious. "Would you mind sharing the
joke, Mr. Kim?" Chakotay asked.
Kim looked up from the small monitor on his console. By now
everyone on the bridge was looking at him. His laughter quickly withered beneath
Tuvok's habitual disdainful scowl. Kim coughed nervously as he looked down at
Janeway. "I'm sorry, Captain. I've been monitoring a transmission for the last
five minutes, and it's very funny, though I don't think the humor's intentional.
But--"
Janeway had stood. "A transmission, Ensign Kim? From where?"
"From a star system half a light year off to port, Captain.
It's being broadcast on a local, narrow subspace band, very limited range, not
more than a few parsecs, perhaps a light year-"
"Content, Ensign. What's the content of the transmission?"
Janeway asked.
Harry looked down at his monitor and stifled a new wave of
laughter. "You'll have to see it to believe it, sir. I'll put it on the main
veiwscreen."
He touched a button. The stars on the forward viewscreen wavered
and were replaced by an image of Chakotay and Janeway. They were sitting very
close together on the sofa in Janeway's quarters. Chakotay was completely naked,
though his nudity was carefully concealed from view. Janeway wore a red silk
robe. Each held a glass of wine in their hands. Through the window above them
the stars rushed by. In soft, tender voices, they were debating whether or not
they should reveal their passion for each other to the rest of the crew. The
debate quickly died out as Chakotay swept Janeway into his arms and gave her
a passionate kiss.
Tom Paris's sudden laughter pealed across the bridge.
On the viewscreen the romantic interlude faded. An advertisement
flashed quickly by, loudly extolling the virtues of purchasing a new Ghotan
Twin Engine Sky Rover.
Janeway slowly shook her head as she turned to face Kim. "Ensign,
what--what is that?"
Kim smirked. "It's us, sir. Before your big scene, Tom and
I were in Engineering, trying to help Belanna restore power to the warp drive,
which had earlier failed--I don't know why it failed; we seem to have come in
halfway through the transmission."
"But how--"
"Captain," Tuvok interrupted. "Sensors show an object several
thousand kilometers off the port bow, at the edge of the system where the transmission
originated. Unmoving. Possibly a station of some kind."
Janeway faced forward again. "On screen. Drop to impulse,
Mr. Paris."
Just as the commercials faded and Tom Paris's face appeared
on the viewscreen, that image also blinked out and the starscape reappeared.
A small spherical structure bristling with antennae swam toward them out of
the blackness. It swelled until it filled half the screen.
"All stop," Janeway said, and the sphere ceased growing.
"One life sign, Captain," Tuvok reported.
"We're being hailed," Harry Kim said.
"On screen," Janeway stood and strode forward a step.
A man appeared on the forward viewscreen. The most remarkable
thing about him, Janeway noted, was his ordinariness. He could have been a human
from Earth. Unusual facial structures, like nose or forehead ridges and such,
seemed to be the theme of the Delta Quadrant, and she'd come to expect it. But
this relatively young man had nothing of the sort. She could see a large screen
on the wall behind him, on which Tom Paris and Belanna Torres were in a heated
discussion. Tom waved his hands emphatically at the flickering warp column behind
them.
"I'm Captain Janeway of the Starship Voyager," she said.
"Hello, Captain!" The man smiled raptly, gazing around the
bridge at each member of the crew. "And there's Tom, and Harry, and--my god,
it's Tuvok!" He looked back at Janeway. "Captain, you have no idea what an honor
this is! I've been a fan of Intrepid Voyagers since the first episode! What
a coincidence that you should arrive right in the middle of the show!" He pointed
at the screen behind him: Neelix in the mess hall, talking with Tuvok.
"It seems you have us at a disadvantage," Janeway said.
"Oh, excuse me, Captain. I'm very excited, not to mention
extremely nervous. My name is Jenter Camal, Technician for Outpost 3."
Janeway pointed at the screen behind him. "And what is that?"
"The Intrepid Voyagers. It's the hottest show on subspace.
I knew it was based on true events, but I never imagined I'd actually meet any
of you! Uh, Captain Janeway?" He looked at her sheepishly. "I know it's asking
a lot but--would you...beam...me over so I can get some autographs?"
The briefing room, eight hours later.
Janeway and Chakotay stood as the door hissed open. Tuvok
entered, escorting a tall middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing,
steel gray eyes. His open, friendly smile softened the intensity of those eyes.
He strode confidently forward and firmly clasped Janeway's hand, vigorously
pumped it. "Captain Janeway, what an honor to finally meet you! I came just
as soon as I was informed of your approach--got me out of bed, as a matter of
fact-- it's the middle of the night in my city. But no matter. Let me be the
first to welcome you to Doran. I'm Nephtaf Centravi, of Centravi Productions."
Janeway finally managing to free her hand from his vice-like
grip. "I'd introduce Commander Chakotay, but I suspect that's unnecessary."
She sat down and motioned for Centravi to do the same. When he was seated she
asked: "Are you with the Doran government, Mr. Centravi? I'd assumed they would
send a government official."
He shook his head. "No, I'm not with the government. But I
might as well be. Centravi Productions owns most of the planet. As soon as the
bureaucrats heard you were coming, they called me. You are the flagship of my
network, after all."
"We are?" Chakotay asked.
"Well, not you personally, of course," Centravi said. "But
Intrepid Voyagers is based on you, after all."
Janeway folded her hands on the table before her. "Tell us
about Intrepid Voyagers," she said. "I'm sure you can understand our curiosity.
We've never had contact with your people, and yet..." She pushed a button inset
into the table and a monitor on the opposite wall came to life. Music played,
words and disconnected images raced across the screen, and then Tom Paris and
Belanna Torres stepped out of a turbolift, deep in conversation. Janeway muted
the audio.
Centravi looked at the monitor, open astonishment on his face.
"How--? Voyagers is only on once a week! How--"
"We recorded it," Chakotay said, as if it were the most obvious
thing in the universe.
"Record? For later playback! What an ingenious idea!" Centravi
reached inside his jacket and withdrew a small palm top computer, into which
he quickly typed several notes. When he'd finished he looked up to find the
three watching him. Tuvok raised an exasperated eyebrow. "My apologies."
"About Intrepid Voyagers..." Janeway prompted.
"Yes, yes. It's all computer-generated, of course. I created
it a little over a year ago, fed in your personality profiles, personal histories,
photographs, that sort of thing. I've got a dozen writers on staff that dream
up new adventures every week. To tell you the truth, I'd never done this type
of show before. All my others are live-action. Voyagers is the crowning achievement
of a very long, successful career. It's the hottest thing on subspace."
"So we've been told," Janeway said. "But how did you learn
of us? Where did you get all your information? As I said, we've never encountered
your people before."
"That's because we don't travel much. We're an extremely insular
society, Captain. And very hedonistic. We prefer to sit in our homes plugged
into various entertainments, rather than venture out into the universe. But
I did some traveling a few years ago, searching for new ideas. Always looking
for those. I went further from Doran than anyone had ever been before and hadn't
found inspiration. Just as I was about to give up and return home, I stopped
at a trading outpost on the far side of the Necrid Expanse."
"We were there approximately two years ago," Tuvok said.
Centravi nodded. "While there, one of your crewmen--Neelix--was
involved in....Well, I guess I don't have to recount that for you, do I? Anyway,
I watched you and your people from a distance. I knew I'd found my new show.
So I gathered as much data about you as I could and returned home. Developed
my ideas and began production. Intrepid Voyagers was an instant success."
"And since then," Chakotay said, "your people have been watching
computer-generated simulacrums of us?"
"Yes. It's--"
"--the hottest thing on subspace," Chakotay finished for him.
Centravi smiled.
"I'm not sure whether or not I should feel violated," Janeway
said.
"Oh, it's all fiction," Centravi assured her. "Most of it,
anyway. I mean, we've tried to be true to your individual characters, your mission
and all that, but the adventures my writers throw at you every week are all
pure fabrication. The people love it."
"Did it ever occur to you," Tuvok asked, "to ask our permission
while we were on the trading outpost?"
Centravi shrugged. "I didn't see any need. I never imagined
that you would be coming through our system. Although the show is billed as
"The True Adventures," and the people know that there really is a Voyager hurtling
through space, they know it's all make-believe. You're no more real to them
than...than..."
"Than the Tooth Fairy?" Chakotay said.
"Exactly. I think." Centravi smiled. "Until now, that is."
"Well, there's no harm done, I suppose," Janeway said.
Centravi beamed. "Well then, Captain, gentlemen, I'd like
to invite you and your crew to--"
"Bridge to Captain," an excited voice blurted through the
intercom.
"Go ahead, Mr. Paris."
"Captain," Tom said, "we're receiving a distress call from
the outermost planet of this system. They're being attacked. Shall I lay in
a course?"
"Stand by, Mr. Paris." She looked at Centravi questioningly.
"That would be Gahka," he said. "Doran has a large mining
installation there. Captain Janeway, on behalf of Doran I formally request your
assistance. Our ships are much slower than yours, and it would take precious
time to mount an operation. Please?"
Janeway touched her comm badge. "Lay in a course, Tom. Red
alert." She stood and headed for the door. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Centravi.
I'll see you when we return."
The door slid open. Ten men in attire that matched Centravi's
were standing idly in the corridor beyond. Janeway turned back. "Who are all
these people?"
Centravi stood and smiled ingratiatingly. "They're with me,
Captain. If you don't mind, we'd like to tag along. Watch the action, explore
the ship. Who knows? We might come up with an idea for an episode."
Janeway sighed. "Very well. Just don't get in the way." She
looked sternly at Tuvok, silently berating him for not informing her of the
presence of these other men. Then she headed for the bridge, Centravi hard on
her heels.
Ten minutes later, Gahka loomed large on the forward viewscreen.
A small planet, really little more than a moonlet, gray, barren and rocky.
"Sensors show an extensive network of tunnels lacing most
of the planet, Captain," Tuvok reported. "Ruins scattered across the surface."
"Ruins?" Janeway asked. "From an attack?"
"No," Tuvok said. "Decay is apparently due to abandonment."
"The miners move around a lot," Centravi said. "Once a vein
is mined out, they move to another."
"Faint life signs," Tuvok said. "Clustered in a tunnel network
near the equator. The life signs are sporadic, fluctuating. I cannot get a conclusive
reading."
"Possibly the galtric ore is affecting your instruments,"
Centravi told him.
"Any other vessels in orbit, Tuvok?" Janeway asked.
"Negative. However, there is an ion trail leading into deep
space. Perhaps residual discharge from the attacker's propulsion."
"Hail the installation," Janeway told Kim.
"I've been hailing them, Captain. No response."
Chakotay stood. "I'll get the Doctor and take an Away Team
down. See if there are any survivors."
Janeway nodded.
"Let's go, Mr. Paris."
As Tom and Chakotay headed for the turbolift, one of Centravi's
cohorts fell into step with them.
"I hope you don't mind if Mr. Gert there accompanies you,"
Centravi called after them. "Just to observe and get some ideas, of course."
Chakotay's resigned sigh was indistinguishable from the turbolift
door swishing closed on them.
Five people materialized in a dimly-lit tunnel: the Doctor
also had one of Centravi's tag-alongs.
"Fan out," Chakotay ordered. He headed left. Mr. Gert followed
close on his heels, intently watching Chakotay's every move.
The tunnel walls were jagged, blasted out of the bare, cold
stone of the moonlet. Lights were strung along the ceiling, many of them shattered
and dark. In places the walls were scorched black. "Signs of weapon discharges,"
Chakotay said on general-comm.
"Here too," Paris returned.
"I've found a body," the Doctor reported. "One of the Doran
miners, and it's not a pretty sight. Dead. ...apparently."
"Apparently?" Chakotay asked.
"Tricorder readings are...garbled," the Doctor replied.
"Would the ore affect our tricorders even in such close proximity?"
Chakotay asked Mr. Gert.
Gert grunted noncommittally, shrugged his shoulders. He continued
staring unblinkingly at Chakotay.
"Thanks for your help," Chakotay said, fighting his irritation.
He was rapidly tiring of being shadowed by Gert.
They came upon a section of wall smeared with a sticky yellow
substance. Chakotay cautiously stuck the tip of his index finger in it, brought
the finger to his nose and sniffed. He quickly jerked his finger away and wiped
it on an section of the wall. "What is this?" he asked.
Gert shrugged, and they continued on.
The tunnel suddenly widened into a large room. Three tunnels
opened in the wall directly opposite. Bunk beds lined the other walls. Storage
chests sat at the bases of the beds. The mattresses on the beds had been shredded,
the chests forced open. Blackened streaks marked great gouges on the walls.
Several bloodied bodies were piled haphazardly at the room's
center. Their limbs jutting at unnatural angles.
"More bodies, doc," Chakotay said. "Follow my signal."
"On my way."
Chakotay stared around the ransacked room. "What the hell
happened here?"
Again Gert shrugged.
Chakotay faced him, folding arms on chest. "You don't talk
much, do you?" he asked in irritation.
Mr. Gert's mouth opened and Chakotay thought the man might
finally utter a word--
--but Tom's urgent voice rang out from Chakotay's communicator.
"Movement, Commander, all around us. Centered on your location."
"Who is it?" Chakotay asked. "Miners?"
"Can't say for certain," Paris said. "My tricorder can't get
a positive lock. Whoever--whatever--they are, they're big, and there's a lot
of them."
"Meet me here on the double, Mr. Paris," Chakotay ordered.
"You don't have to tell me twice." Tom's heavy breathing indicated
that he was running. "They're moving like lightning....Can't see them but tricorder
says they're almost on top of me....Oh my god..." Phaser fire rang out, and
static hissed across the comm channel.
"Tom. Tom!" Chakotay shouted. He hit his comm badge again.
"Doc, where are you? What's taking you so long to get here? Doctor?" He looked
at Gert.
The pound slap of running feet and a rustling movement behind
them. In one fluid movement Chakotay whirled and drew his phaser.
"It's good to see you too, Commander," said the Doctor, emerging
from the mouth of the middle tunnel. Close behind him was the tag-along.
Chakotay lowered his phaser but didn't holster it. "Why didn't
you answer me?"
"My comm badge emits only static," the Doctor replied.
"Tom's in trouble."
"Yes, I heard. I've also been unable to raise Voyager."
Chakotay hit his badge. "Chakotay to Janeway." Dead silence.
"Chakotay to Voyager."
Again, silence.
"We've lost contact with the Away Team," Ensign Kim reported.
Janeway looked to Tuvok.
"Sensors show that they are still alive," Tuvok responded
to her unspoken question. "However, Mr. Paris's signs are fluctuating....something
has intersected his position, and others are closing on Chakotay, the Doctor
and Centravi's two men."
Janeway and Centravi stepped forward as one to stand at the
railing below Tuvok's station. Centravi's face was almost comical in its concern.
"Can you beam them out?" Janeway asked.
"Negative. Our beam is being scattered."
"Captain," Kim called out. "Ship approaching. Engine signature
matches the ion trail we found on arrival."
Janeway faced forward. "On screen."
The approaching ship resembled a gigantic spear, bristling
with weapons and other unknown structures. Voyager's shields were automatically
raised upon detection of the ship.
"Do you know who they are? Recognize that ship?" Janeway asked
Centravi.
Centravi shook his head. "No. The nearest inhabited star is
Nestor, twelve light years away. We don't have much contact with the Nestorans,
but we know they don't have any ships like this. Besides, they're friendly.
And I can't imagine why anyone would attack us."
"Captain, we're being boarded," Tuvok called out. "Engineering
and the cargo bay."
"How did they get through our shields?" Janeway demanded.
"Unknown." Tuvok looked down as his control panel bleeped.
"Multiple plasma beam discharges in Engineering. Intruders advancing and spreading
rapidly."
"Get down there now, Tuvok. And get them off my ship!" Tuvok
nodded and ran to the turbolift. The door slid open and Seven of Nine stepped
out. Tuvok squeezed past her into the lift.
"Seven, go with Tuvok," Janeway told her.
Without a word Seven turned and reentered the turbolift.
As the lift doors swished shut, Centravi asked excitedly,
"Captain, who was that woman?"
"Seven of Nine."
"Who? She's not in the records we have, but she looks like
an interesting new character. Perhaps--"
"Not now," Janeway curtly waved him off. "Harry, erect a Level
3 containment field around the bridge. Reroute all engineering functions here.
Lock them out."
Kim nodded.
"Tuvok to bridge. Intruders sighted. Engaging. They look--"
He broke off as phaser fire erupted, someone, not Tuvok, screamed and the intercom
went dead.
Janeway turned to Centravi with a worried frown. She felt
impotent, having to stand idly by while her crew were fighting for the ship,
perhaps dying....
As Chakotay and the Doctor were advancing through the tunnels
toward Tom Paris's last known position, they heard a soft chittering and shadows
moved on the wall opposite an intersecting tunnel.
Chakotay threw himself to the floor and scooted close to the
wall, aiming his phaser at the tunnel mouth. The Doctor did likewise. Mr. Gert
and his companion remained standing, watching curiously and without concern.
"Get down!" Chakotay hissed at them.
Large bug-like creatures suddenly skittered from the tunnel
mouth. They were all hard carapace, clacking mandables and needle-sharp, stick-like
limbs. Their multi-faceted eyes fastened unblinkingly on Chakotay and the Doctor.
Chakotay activated the universal translator function of his
comm badge. "Halt!" he yelled from the floor. "Any further movement will be
considered an attack."
The creatures made chittering sounds and rushed forward.
Chakotay nodded at the Doctor. They fired together. Phaser
beams sliced through the air, deflected harmlessly off the hard shells of the
advancing creatures.
"Higher setting," Chakotay called across to the Doctor. He
ran his thumb across the intensity setting and fired again. The beam struck
its target and ricocheted wildly.
Tom Paris's voice suddenly rang out, "All right guys, that's
enough. Someone's going to get hurt by a stray beam, and it'll probably be me."
Tom stepped out of the side tunnel, waving his hands. "Hold your fire, commander."
Chakotay relaxed his thumb on the trigger, but didn't lower
his weapon.
The creature in the lead sighed. "You're probably right. I
guess we've gotten enough footage, anyway." It raised a limb. With several rapid
clicks and faster than the eye could follow, the bug shrank, folding in on itself
and collapsing, revealing a man beneath. The others did likewise, until a group
of men were standing in the tunnel, next to a grinning Tom Paris.
Chakotay slowly stood and put away his phaser. "Costumes?"
he asked, dumbstruck at this unexpected turn of events. Adrenalin and fear still
pumped through his body.
"Armor, actually," the lead man said.
Mr. Gert suddenly came forward and took Chakotay's hand, pumped
it furiously. "Sorry for the deception, commander." He smiled widely at Chakotay.
"But it's been a real pleasure working with you. I must say, you're my favorite
character. I'm the one that's been developing the Chakotay/Janeway romance on
the show." He released Chakotay's hand. Reaching behind his ear, he removed
a small box-shaped device. Chakotay recognized the unmistakable bump of a holo-recorder
node.
"So you can talk after all," Chakotay said. He turned on Tom
Paris. "You went along with this?"
Paris waved his hands. "Hey, commander, I was scared witless
when they first "attacked" me. But when they revealed themselves and explained
things, I didn't want to spoil it for them right away. There's no harm done,
and you have to admit, it is kind of funny."
But Chakotay wasn't laughing.
"Give it time," Tom said.
On Voyager, Janeway stood resolutely behind the tactical officer.
"Lock phasers and torpedos," she told him. "Disable that ship, bring her just
this side of complete destruction." She turned to Harry. "After we've fired,
tell them we'll finish the job unless they get their boarding party off Voyager."
She turned back to tactical. "Fire at will."
Phasers sliced through space, with a volley of photon torpedoes
hard on their heels. All passed through the ship without inflicting any damage
and receded into deep space. Janeway looked at the tactical officer in perplexity--
--as an insistent bleeping suddenly sounded somewhere on Centravi's
person. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the palmtop computer and looked
at the small readout. "Nice timing," he said. He touched a button, and the ship
on the viewscreen vanished.
Janeway turned and looked at him askance.
"Transporters have a positive lock on the Away Team," Harry
called out.
"Beam them up," Janeway said.
"Tuvok to bridge," Tuvok's voice rang out over the no-longer-dead
intercom. "We were in a running firefight, no one injured. The aliens have surrendered
and are in actuality--"
"Put it in your report, Tuvok," Janeway said curtly. "I'm
about to get some answers directly from the source. Janeway out." She looked
sternly at Centravi. "Well?" she snapped.
"There's not much to explain, really, Captain," Centravi said.
"When I heard you were in our space, I saw an irresistible opportunity and I
took it. Think of it: the first live-action Voyagers episode, featuring the
true-life characters reacting to a dire threat! No rehearsals, no computer-generated
nonsense! We spared no expense to make this as realistic as possible, which
wasn't an easy task on such short notice. This will be the most-watched episode
in the history of subspace."
Janeway sighed and rubbed her forehead. "But how did you do
it? The planet, the other ship, boarding us even though the shields were raised?"
Centravi shrugged. "Trickery, sensor ghosts--technologically
simple things. And my people all carried holo-recorders, right in the thick
of the action. As for the planet, I own it--or rather Centravi Productions owns
it. One of our studios. And it was a simple matter to phase my actors through
your shields, using my computer as a focus." He tapped his palm top. "I'm sorry
for any inconvenience, Captain, really. No one was ever in any danger. It was
all in good fun--and good ratings, of course. Thank you." He extended his hand.
Janeway folded her arms on her chest. "Give me your recording
devices."
"What for?" Centravi asked, taken aback by her reaction.
The turbolift door swished open. Chakotay and Tuvok came unobtrusively
to stand beside Janeway.
"So they can be destroyed, of course," Janeway replied. "You
had no right to holorecord us without our permission."
"And," Chakotay interjected, "you've wasted our valuable time
and resources."
Tuvok: "Several decks are in a shambles from our mock battle.
More time will be wasted in their repair."
"So I tell you again," Janeway said, "hand over all your recording
devices."
Centravi shook his head. "I will not."
Without warning, Chakotay swiftly reached out and retrieved
a small device, identical to Gert's, from behind Centravi's left ear. He smirked
at Centravi, tightly squeezed the device in his fist. "That's one down, nine
to go."
Centravi chuckled. "Do whatever you'd like with that, Chakotay.
It's just a collector; the footage from all our devices has already been transmitted
back to my main studio on Doran." Centravi turned to Janeway. "Really, Captain,
there's no need for this unpleasantness. I should think you would be flattered,
not outraged. No harm was intended, and you will be richly compensated back
on--"
"Round up his people and throw them all in the brig," Janeway
said.
Tuvok seized Centravi's arm.
Chakotay drew his phaser and motioned toward the turbolift.
"Let's go," he smiled smugly.
Centravi shrugged out of Tuvok's grasp. "Captain, please,
you can't do this! I'm an important man, a busy man! I've got to get back to
Doran and--"
"Harry," Janeway called out. "Hail Doran. Get in touch with
one of Mr. Centravi's media rivals and inform them of his incarceration."
Centravi's mouth fell open. "Captain!"
She smirked. "As you say, you're an important man. I'm sure
all of Doran will want to know why we've detained you." She motioned to Tuvok.
"The brig."
Chakotay waved his phaser at Centravi. "Please give me a reason
to stun you."
Nearly a day later Janeway strode into the brig. She stopped
in front of the forcefield. In the cell beyond, Centravi and his entourage sat
idly, numb with boredom. Gert and a few others were sleeping. Centravi stepped
forward, facing Janeway.
"We're in orbit of Doran," Janeway said. "Your local subspace
channels are abuzz with news of your incarceration. They seem to think it's
quite a scandal."
Centravi nodded. "Good. Believe it or not, Captain, I'm grateful
you contacted them."
"What?" Janeway said, startled. "Why?"
"Like they say, the only bad press is no press. This "scandal"
is an excellent promotion for Intrepid Voyagers. Even more people will watch
our special episode because of it."
Janeway sighed. The sigh quickly turned to laughter. "Oh,
Mr. Centravi, isn't there anything I can do to get to you?"
Centravi smiled. "You're finally beginning to see the humor
in recent events."
Janeway went to the control panel behind her and deactivated
the forcefield. "Get off my ship, Centravi."
As his sleeping men came groggily awake, Centravi stepped
out of the cell. "We owe you a great deal, Captain. I'm sure your crew could
use a shore leave."
"What are you getting at?"
"I told you we planned to compensate you for your troubles,
Captain. There's a whole planet down there that thrills to watching your adventures
on subspace every week. They'd be ecstatic to have you walking among them. Your
crew's every whim will be catered to. We'll restock your ship. And perhaps some
of your people would like to script a show for us, or even," he paused dramatically,
"direct an episode of Voyagers. Just give the word and Doran is at your disposal."
He stepped forward and extended his hand. "What do you say, Captain?"
"Mr. Centravi, I think my crew would mutiny if I refused."
She smiled and shook his hand.
Two weeks later, Tom Paris and Harry Kim stepped off the transporter
platform. As the transporter re-energized, they turned around, curious. Belanna
Torres and Seven of Nine materialized.
"Transporter Room to Bridge," the transporter technician said.
"The last of them are aboard, sir."
"Thank you. Bridge out."
Tom Paris stepped forward and helped Torres down from the
platform. "There you are. I was hoping to spend the last day on Doran with you,
and instead you sneak off for two days without so much as a goodbye." He smiled
to take the edge from his voice, and kissed her. "Where'd you go?"
She smiled and turned to Seven of Nine. "Should we tell them?"
she asked conspiratorially.
"I see no reason to withhold the information. Lieutenant Torres
and I spent the last two days posing for a publication tentatively titled The
Women of Voyagers."
Harry Kim's mouth fell open.
"P-posing?" Tom asked. "Posing how?"
"In the nude, of course," Seven of Nine said. Without a further
word she brushed past Kim and left the Transporter Room.
"She's kidding, right? You didn't," Tom asked Belanna.
She smirked at him, not saying a word.
"You did! Why would you do it?" Tom asked.
"For a thrill," she said. "I wouldn't have done it, but....we'll
never be back this way again, so who will ever see it? And they paid us very
well."
"Paid you?" Tom asked. "You don't need money, and you can
synthesize anything you need. What could they possibly offer that would entice
you to...."
She leaned close and whispered in his ear, "Meet me in about
an hour and you'll find out." She grinned at him, nodded to Harry, and left.
Tom and Harry watched the door slide shut behind her.
"The Women of Voyager, huh?" Tom said.
Harry nodded. "Think you can convince the captain to stay
in orbit long enough for us to hunt down an advance copy?" Harry asked.
"I doubt it. Think you can contact someone on Doran and have
them send us a copy over subspace?"
Harry grinned. "I'm prepared to die trying."
"That's the spirit." Tom clapped him on the shoulder and they
left the room.
The End
