TITLE: We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties
AUTHOR: MikeJaffa
SYNOPSIS: Answer to Trek BBS “Mistakes” challenge: In which we learn why Tom Paris does not usually maintain Voyager’s holographic systems.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns Star Trek: Voyager. I am making no money off this fan fic.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: As with other products of my silly muse, do not eat or drink while reading.
8
8
8
8
Captain Kathryn Janeway could not sleep. The pain in her left shoulder had grown worse since she had gone to bed, and she was not happy about it.
By now, it was a joke on *Voyager* that Chakotay had jinxed it when the *Voyager* had set down on a trading post planet and he had quipped that it was nice to come across a friendly civilization for a change. So naturally, the crew had become infected with a local airborne flu-like virus.
The Doctor and Seven (who, of course, had been immune) had worked with the local authorities to provide the crew with antiviral medication. The Doctor had also developed a vaccine for those members of the crew not immediately infected. The good news was that there had been no fatalities, and the planet’s leaders had invited the crew to extend their stay so they could enjoy themselves properly after recovering. The bad news, in addition to those who had been infected spending a miserable couple of weeks in bed, was that the virus was not going quietly. Some reported symptoms that lingered for days or week after they came through the worst of it. Especially joint pain.
Like the pain in Janeway’s left shoulder, which had become intolerable tonight.
Dressed in pajama pants and a black t-shirt with “VOY” on the front in white letters, Janeway started talking as she entered the sickbay: “Doctor, I was wondering if you could give me some…thing…for…” She trailed off as she registered what she was seeing.
The Doctor was upside-down.
His posture was completely normal, his arms at his sides and an annoyed look on his face. Indeed, there was nothing unusual about him except that he was upside-down. His head was on the floor, and he appeared to be standing on an invisible floor where his feet were. Off the ground. Upside-down.
Tom Paris, also dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, had a panel open on sickbay’s central console and was poking at it with tools from a small tool kit.
Janeway found her voice and said, “Doctor…Tom…someone, please explain, uh…” She let it hang.
Tom said, “Well captain, the Doctor called and said the sickbay’s holoemitters were on the fritz. B’Elanna is still under the weather, so I thought I would give it a whirl.”
“Yes,” the Doctor said, his words dripping with sarcasm, “and a fine job you have made of it, too.”
Janeway cocked her head to one side as if that made it better for the Doctor. (It didn’t.) “Doctor, why didn’t you transfer yourself to your mobile emitter?”
“Because, Captain, Mr. Paris here has managed the hitherto thought impossible feat of getting the ship’s DNS servers to forget my mobile emitter’s IP address.”
“There…” Tom said, “just about there…and…got it!”
A flash of static, and the Doctor was standing normally. Tom smiled and pulled his tool out of the console.
The Doctor smiled as he looked at his own hand. But then he started to become blurry. Jagged edges appeared all over his body. And then he was a pile of multi-colored cubes with indistinct features.
Correction: An irate pile of multi-colored cubes with indistinct features.
His smile faded and he said acidly, “Oh, lovely. Now when I treat my patients, I can be a living demonstration of cubistic art.”
“Ooh!” Tom said. “Too much data compression. I’ve got this!”
Tom attacked the panel with his tools. The Doctor’s resolution returned to normal. But then his body started flicking like a 20th century TV image caught in a role. When it stopped, the Doctor’s head and upper body were sticking out of the floor with his legs a foot above his head.
“Ah!” Tom said. “No problem, just give me--”
Janeway said, “Tom, stop. Let me put you out of the Doctor’s misery.” She tapped her com badge. “Janeway to Torres…B’Elanna? You awake?”
“Ooooowhhhhaaaaahhhhhhhtttttizzzzzzzziiittttttttt?” B’Elanna’s voice came over the com. “Sorry, Captain. What is it?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but could you come down to sickbay? We have a minor…technical…problem.”
“Eeelyoooooogh. On my way.”
When B’Elanna got to sickbay, she surveyed the room with the look of someone who had decided against committing murder because she was in no shape to get rid of the corpse(s).
She said, “Seriously? This is what you wanted to see me for?”
Janeway said, “I’m afraid so.”
B’Elanna glared at Tom, then crossed to the center console and slapped it hard. Another flash of static and the Doctor was back to normal, right side up, body assembled normally and not blurry. He looked at his hand again and smiled approvingly.
B’Elanna said, “Is there anything else, Captain?”
“No. Good night, B’Elanna.”
As B’Elanna turned to leave, Tom smiled and hazarded, “Be along in a few minutes, pudd.”
“Nrgh.” B’Elanna curled her lip at him and shambled out.
Tom said, “Captain, can you give me a direct order?”
“Why?” Janeway asked.
“So I can disobey it and spend the night in the brig. I hear it’s the most secure part of the ship.”
“Tom, I can’t throw you in the brig without noting it on your service record…Go bunk in the *Delta Flier.* That should do for tonight.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
As Tom collected his tools and turned to leave, Janeway caught the look on the Doctor’s face. “Tom?”
“Ma’am?”
“Make that two nights.”
THE END
AUTHOR: MikeJaffa
SYNOPSIS: Answer to Trek BBS “Mistakes” challenge: In which we learn why Tom Paris does not usually maintain Voyager’s holographic systems.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns Star Trek: Voyager. I am making no money off this fan fic.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: As with other products of my silly muse, do not eat or drink while reading.
8
8
8
8
Captain Kathryn Janeway could not sleep. The pain in her left shoulder had grown worse since she had gone to bed, and she was not happy about it.
By now, it was a joke on *Voyager* that Chakotay had jinxed it when the *Voyager* had set down on a trading post planet and he had quipped that it was nice to come across a friendly civilization for a change. So naturally, the crew had become infected with a local airborne flu-like virus.
The Doctor and Seven (who, of course, had been immune) had worked with the local authorities to provide the crew with antiviral medication. The Doctor had also developed a vaccine for those members of the crew not immediately infected. The good news was that there had been no fatalities, and the planet’s leaders had invited the crew to extend their stay so they could enjoy themselves properly after recovering. The bad news, in addition to those who had been infected spending a miserable couple of weeks in bed, was that the virus was not going quietly. Some reported symptoms that lingered for days or week after they came through the worst of it. Especially joint pain.
Like the pain in Janeway’s left shoulder, which had become intolerable tonight.
Dressed in pajama pants and a black t-shirt with “VOY” on the front in white letters, Janeway started talking as she entered the sickbay: “Doctor, I was wondering if you could give me some…thing…for…” She trailed off as she registered what she was seeing.
The Doctor was upside-down.
His posture was completely normal, his arms at his sides and an annoyed look on his face. Indeed, there was nothing unusual about him except that he was upside-down. His head was on the floor, and he appeared to be standing on an invisible floor where his feet were. Off the ground. Upside-down.
Tom Paris, also dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, had a panel open on sickbay’s central console and was poking at it with tools from a small tool kit.
Janeway found her voice and said, “Doctor…Tom…someone, please explain, uh…” She let it hang.
Tom said, “Well captain, the Doctor called and said the sickbay’s holoemitters were on the fritz. B’Elanna is still under the weather, so I thought I would give it a whirl.”
“Yes,” the Doctor said, his words dripping with sarcasm, “and a fine job you have made of it, too.”
Janeway cocked her head to one side as if that made it better for the Doctor. (It didn’t.) “Doctor, why didn’t you transfer yourself to your mobile emitter?”
“Because, Captain, Mr. Paris here has managed the hitherto thought impossible feat of getting the ship’s DNS servers to forget my mobile emitter’s IP address.”
“There…” Tom said, “just about there…and…got it!”
A flash of static, and the Doctor was standing normally. Tom smiled and pulled his tool out of the console.
The Doctor smiled as he looked at his own hand. But then he started to become blurry. Jagged edges appeared all over his body. And then he was a pile of multi-colored cubes with indistinct features.
Correction: An irate pile of multi-colored cubes with indistinct features.
His smile faded and he said acidly, “Oh, lovely. Now when I treat my patients, I can be a living demonstration of cubistic art.”
“Ooh!” Tom said. “Too much data compression. I’ve got this!”
Tom attacked the panel with his tools. The Doctor’s resolution returned to normal. But then his body started flicking like a 20th century TV image caught in a role. When it stopped, the Doctor’s head and upper body were sticking out of the floor with his legs a foot above his head.
“Ah!” Tom said. “No problem, just give me--”
Janeway said, “Tom, stop. Let me put you out of the Doctor’s misery.” She tapped her com badge. “Janeway to Torres…B’Elanna? You awake?”
“Ooooowhhhhaaaaahhhhhhhtttttizzzzzzzziiittttttttt?” B’Elanna’s voice came over the com. “Sorry, Captain. What is it?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but could you come down to sickbay? We have a minor…technical…problem.”
“Eeelyoooooogh. On my way.”
When B’Elanna got to sickbay, she surveyed the room with the look of someone who had decided against committing murder because she was in no shape to get rid of the corpse(s).
She said, “Seriously? This is what you wanted to see me for?”
Janeway said, “I’m afraid so.”
B’Elanna glared at Tom, then crossed to the center console and slapped it hard. Another flash of static and the Doctor was back to normal, right side up, body assembled normally and not blurry. He looked at his hand again and smiled approvingly.
B’Elanna said, “Is there anything else, Captain?”
“No. Good night, B’Elanna.”
As B’Elanna turned to leave, Tom smiled and hazarded, “Be along in a few minutes, pudd.”
“Nrgh.” B’Elanna curled her lip at him and shambled out.
Tom said, “Captain, can you give me a direct order?”
“Why?” Janeway asked.
“So I can disobey it and spend the night in the brig. I hear it’s the most secure part of the ship.”
“Tom, I can’t throw you in the brig without noting it on your service record…Go bunk in the *Delta Flier.* That should do for tonight.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
As Tom collected his tools and turned to leave, Janeway caught the look on the Doctor’s face. “Tom?”
“Ma’am?”
“Make that two nights.”
THE END
