Review Corner:
Emilychristinad: hiya, having a good summer? What's your story called again?
Aseawen: Your new story, From Home, I saw and read and liked! Thought I recognized your name!
Starbuck223: Drastically wrong starts now! With music!
Erdocter15: Continuing as requested.
Chapter Three: How Not To Play Music
Tom hummed happily to himself as he lugged his imitation radio down Voyager's corridors. It had taken him a week and a half of replicator credits, but it had been worth it. As there was no way what-so-ever for the Voyagers to get any reception at all in the Delta Quadrant, he had surreptitiously 'improved' on the technology…meaning, in layman's terms, it was linked to the ship's computer. Unfortunately, Tom had a passion for the 20th Earth century, and had stayed up late two nights in a row slogging through (and listening to) the entire computer complement of twentieth-century Terran music, or most of it.
Luckily, the crew was pretty much used to everyone's eccentricities by now, and so the ship's Alpha shift pilot walking down the hallways, singing to himself, lugging a enormous contraption that looked like it had been dug out of a museum…was frighteningly normal.
"Hi, Tom," Ensign Ryson said casually as they passed. "What's that thing supposed to do?"
"Play music!" he replied cheerfully, and resumed singing quietly. "And we liiiiived beneath the waaaaaves In our ye-ellow sub-marine…" he caterwauled under his breath. He couldn't for the life of him get the music out of his head. Only one solution, he thought over the incessant music, to having a song stuck in your head. Get it stuck in everyone else's head too!
Look out, party.
Even though it was normal for Tom Paris to be doing something odd, it was still endlessly fascinating to find out exactly what he was doing now. In fact, it was one of Naomi Wildman's primary entertainments- besides kadis-kot and 'Adventures of Flotter' holodeck programs and helping Uncle Neelix in the galley- anyway, the list goes on.
"Wow," was her first comment upon rounding a corner and seeing Tom in his special off-duty outfit. "That's a pretty colorful shirt!"
He grinned at her. "Like it?"
"Yep. Well, sort of. What is it?"
She wasn't quite sure why he sighed so heavily, muttering under his breath, "By the laws of probability, someone on this ship has to know something about twentieth century Earth! It's from the state of Hawai'i," he added, louder. "I found it for the beach party we've been planning."
"Uncle Neelix told me about it," she said sagely. "Is he going to wear a colorful shirt too?"
"I'll suggest it to him. Oof!"
"Oof?"
"The radio. I probably shouldn't have stuck so close to the original schematics- should have made it lighter."
"Are you taking it to the holodeck?"
"Yeah, I know, not that far. In fact, it's only a couple steps away." He picked up the fallen radio carefully. "I guess you're coming?'
"To your party? Of course. Mom's helping me find a swimsuit."
Tom laughed, and entered the holodeck, doors swooshing obediently open for him and his radio. Naomi stared at the closed doors for a few seconds, still trying to process that shirt! She hadn't seen anything more colorful since, well, she'd tried to reprogram the lights in her bedroom to flash different colors whenever somebody sneezed. Unfortunately, it had worked, and the programming had taken with a vengeance. Was it her fault Neelix and her mother had both had a cold The Doctor couldn't get rid of that week? Of course not.
Tom found Neelix in the already activated program, looking annoyed. It actually made for quite a picture, as he was lounging in a beach chair with his arms folded, scowling. The incongruity of Neelix in a beach chair and a – was that tam-o'-shanter? forced a stifled giggle from Tom.
"Uh, Neelix," he said cautiously, "where did you get that hat?"'
"It's to keep off the sun," he said brusquely, "and the holodeck is playing jokes on me."
"So reprogram it."
"Would you be so kind as to tell me how I tell the computer to change something so specific?"
Tom sighed. "What's the problem? Is it important?" he sat down on an adjoining lounge chair, and fell to earth- grainy, damp sand- with a thud and a squawk.
"The chairs are insubstantial," said Neelix, trying to talk through his tam-o'-shanter, which had fallen over most of his head. "And this hat is too big."
"Yeah, I'd noticed."
"Maybe the computer has a smaller size in its memory. But I was so sure that this was the only one it knew about…"
Paris ignored Neelix's ramblings and pulled himself to his feet, brushing sand from his swim trunks. He looked around with pride at their scenario they'd spent days on. It hadn't turned out all that bad- except for the lounge chairs.
The main focus of the program, was, of course, a panoramic seascape involving palm trees, prodigious amounts of white sand, and the 'deep blue sea,' which was more of a turquoise-navy-white sunlight-light blue, now that he thought about it, which he didn't intend to do for long. It looked like the ocean though, which was kind of the point. It quite strongly resembled a beach he'd gone to one summer with his mother and three older sisters. He'd only been about seven at the time, and could not understand why girls didn't like cold salt water and seaweed, even when they'd been lying out in the sun for a good half-hour doing nothing at all.
The older Tom, of course, was much wiser…er, more informed- wiser is debatable.
They had also programmed in a beach volleyball court, with extra volleyballs, as volleyballs tended to drift off in the waves, or get stuck in trees, or get requisitioned as chairs, or squashed flat, or any other of the varied and variable fates that can befall a holographic beach ball.
As of yet, of course, there were no snacks, drinks, or other forms of refreshment readily available for the obvious reason that the party wasn't supposed to start for another two days, and holodecks made second- to third-class refrigerators and storage devices.
"Computer, arch," Tom called, and a silvery metallic arch shimmered into being in the middle of the ocean. Pristine blue waves lapped against the computer console embedded in the wall.
"Computer!" Tom wailed. "Move the arch closer to my current position."
"Unable to comply. Arch is currently in use."
"What! No it's not!"
"Processing."
"Processing what?"
"Warning."
"What warning?"
"Warning. Parties currently entering holodeck."
Tom gave the invisible ceiling a strange look. If he didn't know any better, he'd suspect the computer of trying to make a joke.
The swoosh of the holodeck doors opening was almost totally masked in the ebb and flow and crash of the ocean waves. A clean and much happier B'Elanna Torres jumped back in surprise as holographic seawater lapped against an invisible barrier just inches from her toes. Cautiously, she stuck her head around the corner, staying mostly behind solid bulkheads.
"Tom? What did you do to this door? And why are you staring at the sky? And what in hell is Neelix wearing?"
"The computer is making puns. What did you do to it? And the door is not my fault. Talk to your computer. As for Neelix's hat-" he looked over his shoulder at the Talaxian, who was still trying to dig himself out from underneath the oversized tam-o'-shanter and not in the least succeeding. "That's not anything to do with me."
"Nothing's ever your fault, is it?"
"You said it, sister!"
B'Elanna scowled at him and pulled her head back into the corridor to make a few modifications from outside. When she looked back, the entry was safe on solid ground, or at least slide-able sand. She marched through it and went to help Neelix with his hat, thumping Tom over the head with her fist on the way.
"What was that for?"
"Calling me 'sister.' And for bollixing up a simple program enough to make the door do that." She hauled the tam-o'-shanter off Neelix's head in one fell swoop. "So there is someone under there. That hat is too big for you, Neelix."
"It keeps the sun off well," he replied cheerfully, unmuffled by fabric.
"I'm sure."
"Hey, B'Elanna, how do I tell the computer to make the lounge chairs substantial?"
"Tell it. Exactly how you told me. When was the last time you programmed a holodeck?"
"This morning!"
The last part of his exclamation was blocked out by the computer's voice from on high, extremely magnified and enhanced. It sounded like the voice of some all powerful and almighty deity that couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.
In the towwwwwwn where I was booooooorn
Lived a maaaaaaan who sailed to seeeeeeeea
Neelix yelped in surprise and acoustic pain, tried to jump to his feet, and tripped over the chair he was sitting in while still sitting down; quite a feat of acrobatics if anyone had been bothered to watch.
And he toooooold us of his liiiiiiife
In the la-a-and of submariiiiiines
So we saaaaaailed up to the suuuuuun-
"Computer!" Tom bellowed. "Turn off the music!"
"Unable to comply," the computer interrupted itself to say smugly. "Verbal holodeck commands are no longer accepted by this system."
Paris told the computer exactly what it could do with that statement. It happily responded, "Null command," and continued singing.
Till we found the sea of green
And we lived beneath the waves
In our yellow submarine
"Computer, end program," Torres snapped, trying to plug both ears at the same time. The computer ignored her too and launched into the chorus with fervor.
We all live in our yellow submarine,
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine
We all live in our yellow submarine…
Author's Note- Can anyone else see Tom in a Hawaiian shirt and swim trunks, lugging a radio? Or is it just me? Summer Vacation is HERE! And does anyone REALLY know what a tam-o'-shanter is? If so could you tell me?
I know I said 'senior staff' in the summary; others will get stuck at random times.
Oh, and sorry for the longer wait. I've been spending the last few days plowing through Star Trek novels- seven in two days! Yahoo!