The BLTS Archive- The Dancer
by  Ana (anacondagrrl@angelfire.com)

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"I can't believe you got him to do this."  Trip's expression was a mix
of astonishment and laughter.  "I mean, isn't it a little  --
elaborate?"  Jon smiled at him.  It was actually more of a smirk. "Oh,
I have my ways of convincing him. It's all in how you ask."

The smirk was a little disconcerting.  "Yeah, but I've seen the
costume.  I mean, veils are bad enough.  But a feather?  And a little
cymbals? How's he going to manage it all?"

"He'll hold the feather in his mouth.  It's part of the act.  As for
the cymbals - well, he's very agile."

Trip nodded.  He'd seen the evidence for himself.  He'd never expected
the guy could do backflips like that.  "I still can't  believe that
you took on this bet."

"Well, you know how persuasive Malcolm can be.  He said he'd make it
worth my while."  Jon winked at him.  References to his relationship
with Malcolm were rare, and it said a lot that Jon was relaxed enough
to say anything now, much less wink.   "I should damn well hope so,
given the time it's taken up to prepare for this little performance."

Trip shrugged, thinking to himself that while Malcolm might be
persuasive, this little escapade might make the crew less  respectful
of their captain.  It was downright silly.  Then again, the idea of a
ship talent contest was generally silly, but  the crew had latched
onto it with unbelievable enthusiasm.  It had been a rough few months,
so the chance to unwind was welcome for all.  Jon wouldn't be the only
one involved with silliness tonight.

Looking around the mess hall, he saw that all available chairs in
front of the makeshift stage were taken.  Several crew members were
standing, talking quietly.  Everyone was waiting for the first show of
the night.  The evening was being recorded for the benefit of the crew
on duty.  They could watch it later.

"It looks like we should start.  People are getting a little
restless."

He nodded his agreement.  "Well, go on up there, announce the first
act."

Jon laughed a little.  "The joys of being Captain!"

It was nice to see him light-hearted for once.

Standing in front of the crowd, Jon welcomed them and thanked all the
participants for their efforts.  He talked about the prizes, small
tokens more than anything else.

Before he sat back down, Jon introduced the first act, explaining that
it was a version of a harem dance.  On cue, a slow, slinky music
started. Trip heard small cymbals clashing in seemingly random
patterns before he saw anything.

Then he saw -- veils.  Silk and multiple colours, draped ridiculously.
Pants covered the performer's legs, ending with  elaborate cuffs.  Was
that? He looked closer.  Yes, those were bangles around ankles,
matched with a gold collar at the neck.   Around his wrists tiny
cymbals were attached.

The feather was indeed in his mouth.

The dance movements were erratic, and hardly elegant.  Still, the
dancer seemed to be enjoying himself, leaping and turning and --
wiggling was the best way he could describe it -- , occasionally
pausing to rip a scarf from his body and toss it at the audience.

It was amazing.  He was in awe.  "How did you get him to do this?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jon smugly grinned at him. "Cheese,
Trip."  He looked back up at Porthos 'dancing' on the  stage.
"Cheese."

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The End