Disclaimer: Paramount owns Trek, probably owns Ricky Martin. I own neither.
inspired by the continuous playing on the radio…someone had to do it
B’Elanna and Tom were walking down the corridor, immersed in conversation. A figure passed them and it took a moment for them to realize who it was and more importantly, how he was dressed.
“B’El, don’t get me wrong, but wasn’t that—,” turning around and just catching the last fleeting glimpse of a round rear tightly clad in black denim jeans.
“Chakotay?” B’Elanna said, finishing up his sentence. “It was.”
“What the hell was he wearing?”
B’Elanna shrugged her shoulders and looked at him. “A smile?”
“It looked like more then that. He looked like some kind of teeny-bopper sex symbol there.”
“Come on,” Tom said, taking her elbow, “I’ll explain it on the way to the mess hall.”
“. . .perhaps if you gave me a little more description, I could help you.”
“My description was clear, doctor.” Seven held out her hand, fingers splayed as he ran the scanner over it. “What I saw was no hallucination, nor dream.”
Doc pursed his lips together and stood back, narrowing his dark eyes.
“If what you say is true, the commander may be suffering from delusions and fragmentary dream suppression. Now, tell me again what he was doing.”
Seven cocked her head, raising the eyebrow with the ocular implant. “He was sitting in his office at his desk when I entered. At first, I believed him to just be out of uniform jacket, but not only was his pants black, but his shirt as well. He turned around and looked at me, his shirt open at the throat and halfway down his body. His hair was in disarray, not combed and gelled in it’s usual state.”
Doc raised a finger to his mouth, nibbling on the digit. “Did he say anything?”
“He said he was livin’ la vida loca.”
Her hands were held up in mock surrender as the crew circled her desk in her ready room. She closed her eyes and thought of the impending headache that was fast approaching.
“One at a time. One. At. A. Time!”
“He keeps talking with this strange latino accent. . .”
“Samantha passed out upon seeing him and when Naomi looked up to see him, she passed out too. . .”
“He has been doing hip gyrations during his shift. I find that most inappropriate.”
“The Delaney’s said he’s been dancing in the corridors. . .”
“His jeans look like he painted them on, captain…not that that’s a bad thing. . .”
“And he took all my cappachino from the mess hall. All I had. And the whipped cream.”
Janeway came around the side of her desk, looking from one face to another of her crew. She gave them a forgiving grin. “Look, I know you are all concerned about Commander Chakotay, but let me assure you, he’s fine.”
Tom stepped forward and looked at the group. “Captain, he’s not fine. Haven’t you heard a word we’ve said. He’s acting like he’s reenacting some fantasy, or indulging in a second childhood. You take your pick.”
Janeway sobered her look and again took in the crew. “Very well, if you’ll follow me, you’ll understand what’s going on.”
Moments later, the crew entered a dark holodeck, with a program apparently running. Kathryn led the way to a small corner near the front of the room.
“It’ll be just a few moments. Let’s just say, that when the commander gets something he wants, he tends to end up in a tale spin and he gets this way.”
B’Elanna huffed. “I’ve never noticed he does that.”
Janeway crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “It depends on what he gets.”
About then, the room erupted in lights and pulsating music. Holographic girls ran up to the stage, waving pictures of the handsome Executive officer and crying…black streaks running down their cheeks.
The first few words out of his mouth were Indian in origin…
The holo-girls shrieked at the guitar solo, some in the front passing out. Doc pushed through the crowd just to double check, as Tuvok rolled his eyes, not believing the sight before him.
Tom elbowed B’Elanna, whispering in her ear. “Does he mean Kashyk?”
Tuvok raised his eyebrows. “I fail to see what is relevant about that statement.”
Everyone turned and shushed him.
Tom murmured. “I’m getting an image here.”
“Too much information there,” B’Elanna said.
Neelix pulled at Harry. “What does ‘la vida loca’ mean?”
Harry looked at him quickly. “When you’re older Neelix, when you’re older.”
Seven cocked her head, talking to no one in particular. “I do not remember any ‘monkey’ on board the ship.”
B’Elanna smirked. “Well, that at least explains why his jeans had no brief lines.”
Janeway turned to the group as Chakotay continued to shimmy and shake up on the stage. “Now, you all know why he’s been acting like this. Any questions?”
Seven started to open up her mouth, then thought better of it when all eyes turned on her.
“That’s what I thought. Now carry on.”