The BLTS Archive - Miss Delta Quadrant by Jantique (Jantique@Prodigy.net) --- DISCLAIMER: The Almighty has given humankind imagination and the creativity to use it. However, Paramount has better lawyers. All rights as to characters, settings and the Delta Quadrant belong to Paramount. No one but Paramount may or should make any money from them. All thoughts, quotations and actions portrayed herein belong to the author. No one should make any money from them, either. Any references herein to a TV commercial of a few years ago (the "Soviet fashion show") are a deliberate homage--and does anyone remember what product they were selling? Send nice reviews and/or point out grammatical errors to the author. Anything between asterisks (*example*) is supposed be italic/underlined. This is (supposed to be) humor, so there's lots of implied sex (slash and otherwise), but no graphic stuff. (Love to read 'em, just can't write 'em.) --- The lights dimmed, and a spotlight lit center stage (okay, center front of the Mess Hall) as Tom Paris waved a bunch of replicated roses and sang out, "Heeeeere she comes, Miss Delta Quadrant!" --- To be fair, the original idea hadn't been Tom Paris's at all. It all started, innocently enough, when Megan Delaney passed Harry Kim in a corridor going one way, at the same time that Seven of Nine strolled by in the opposite direction. Poor Harry nearly got whiplash. Now Harry figured he might not be the most experienced playboy in the Delta Quadrant (like Some People), but he figured he had a fair appreciation of the feminine form. Just picturing--oh, say, B'Elanna Torres in a swimsuit sent his pulse rate skyrocketing. A Pageant! They could have all the female crewmembers -- well, make that the better-looking female crewmembers -- compete for the title of, um, Miss Voyager! What could be more natural than for the beauties of Voyager to show off their charms? Still, he knew he couldn't bring this off himself, so he went in search of Expert Help. "Whoa, slow down, Harry, you're talking way too fast!" Paris smiled at his friend's enthusiasm. Ah, youth! "Let's go to Sandrine's, you buy me a beer, and we'll talk about it." By the time they reached the holodeck, Paris could see it all in his mind, and was working on the finer points, such as how to get a cut of all side bets placed. One thing he knew was that he didn't have the clout for this kind of project. They would need muscle -- senior officer-type muscle. "Mmm, good beer. A lot better than that synthehol crap. A Pageant. Miss Voyager--no, make it Miss Delta Quadrant. I like it." He licked his lips. Definitely, bikinis would be mandatory. He sighed appreciatively, took another swig of beer, and got down to business. "Listen, Harry, something like this we can't do under the table. We need Official Permission. Now, this is probably not going to be the Captain's favorite idea this century, so--" "Why not?" Harry frowned. "My mother always watches the Miss Universe contest. And she always says they pick the wrong one." "Yeah, well, that's different. Trust me. Your Mom probably thinks your girlfriend Libby should win, am I right?" Kim reluctantly nodded. Paris continued, "Look, Janeway is attractive, I'm not saying she isn't. But she'll never see 30 again, okay? And she knows it. I don't know why she's playing so hard-to-get with Chakotay; she's not going to get a better offer. Anyway. We need to bring him in on this. If he can talk her into it, we're home free." "But, Tom, you and he, uh. . . ." Paris drained the last of his beer. "We . . . have our differences. But we can work together. He's male, right? This is for the benefit of every man on this ship. And like you said, women like to watch, too. They get to criticize. You know, Harry, this glass is *empty*. You think you can do something about that?" Chakotay, when brought in and suitably refreshed, was not so sanguine. "A *beauty contest*?!! You expect the Captain to parti--" "Go along with the idea," Tom cut in swiftly. "Of course it would be beneath the Captain's dignity to participate, we know that." *Especially when she might lose* was the unspoken addendum. Chakotay considered the effect a beauty contest might have (if any) on his (non-existent) love life. It might do Kathryn some good to see that, while she might be the Queen Bee, she didn't have the only honey in the hive. Of course, he wasn't going to tell Tom Paris that. "It might have a positive effect on crew morale. Let me talk to the Captain. I'll let you know what she decides." Tom leaned his chair back and licked his lips. Again. He could see it now. If he could get the guys in Engineering to -- Engineering. Oops! His chair landed with a thud. "B'Elanna!", he croaked. "She's gonna kill us." Two minds with a single thought looked at Lt. Kim. "Harry, she LIKES you," Tom wheedled. "She thinks I'm a pig. She thinks you're sweet. She probably won't even throw anything at you!" Chakotay nodded. He'd talk to B'Elanna himself, but Kathryn might get jealous of his old girlfriend. Well, sort-of girlfriend. Unfortunately, jealousy seemed to drive Kathryn away, rather than convincing her to grab him for herself. But then, most things did. "Lt. Kim, your assignment is to talk Lt. Torres into tolerating this, er, Appreciation of Voyager's female crew members. If you can't persuade her to join, at least get her not to throw things at anyone who does join -- or who watches it." Harry look dubious. He was tired of being "sweet" (yick!), and he'd had enough impure thoughts about B'Elanna himself to doubt he could still pull off that "young and innocent" look any more. "Look at it this way, Harry," Tom smirked. "If you can't get her to join the *public* swimsuit competition, maybe you can get her to give you a private showing." This suggestion was greeted by a chorus of "(Tom/Paris), you're a Pig!" Sheesh! Try to help out a friend! --- "A WHAT?!!" A glare that would stop a charging *targ* in its tracks. If you pictured the words hanging in the air, you could see the icicles dripping from them. "An Appreciation of Voyager's crewmembers." It was the most neutral word he could think of. "We could have a pageant and, um, the crew would have a chance to get out of uniform--" Janeway was sure they would. "Get out of uniform? Are we talking about swimsuits here?" "Well, actually, I was thinking of evening gowns, but sure, why not? Hell, Captain, this crew works hard and keeps themselves in shape. Why shouldn't they show off and enjoy themselves? No one's going to be forced into this, you know!" "Hmm, yes, well." She frowned, cranky, then smiled brightly as a thought occurred to her. "Commander, may I offer you a cup of coffee?" She didn't actually rise, hoping-- He shook his head. "No, it's too late in the day for me. But please, let me buy you a cup." "That's not necessary -- black, three sugars. Thank you." She was on a strict ration of eight cups a day, but if this was Chakotay's coffee she was drinking, it obviously didn't *count*. Three minutes later, she was in a *much* better mood. "Commander, I realize that on this ship especially, I can't run a tight ship strictly according to regs. I welcome any reasonable idea to keep up crew morale. For example, I'm continuing to overlook the, er, Science Experiment in Engineering." She'd lost him. "Science Experiment?" "The one with the copper pipes. The only thing the Maquis rescued from *your* ship." Enlightenment. "Oh, the still--uh, right, Science Experiment. Well, exactly, Kath -- Captain. I've never been on a ship yet that didn't have one." "Which is not the point. I'm allowing it because I know that the output is shared among the crew, and no one has been drunk on duty YET. In other words, it has a positive benefit, which outweighs bending some minor regs. I need to know that this competition won't be more divisive than it is entertaining." The Commander shrugged. "Well, Captain, I can't promise you that. I thought we'd offer an extra week's ration credits and a couple of hours holodeck time as the grand prize -- hardly worth killing over. Things are pretty quiet right now, which means boring, and the crew is looking for a diversion. And there are some very attractive women on board. Present company included, of course!" She gave him a look that would curdle fresh *ciremik*. "I happen to think that *all* members of my crew are attractive. And I assume that all species and all genders will be invited to join?" The eyebrows arched. "Now that would *not* be fair!" Chakotay protested. "All species, of course. But as far as I know, we only have two genders here, male and female. And you can't *compare* them. No one would want to!" She had to admit this was a valid point. Chakotay continued, "We thought we'd hold the Pag--uh, Appreciation for women first. That always draws more interest -- male AND female. Then maybe next year, if it works out, we can have one for men." But only after he figured out how to have a Size contest without inviting the women -- and women were NOT invited. They always *giggled*. Janeway laid down a few ground rules -- no pressure to compete; everyone would be made welcome to participate, ugly ducklings or not; no outfits more revealing than could be decently shown on twentieth century Earth television. But basically she was content to let the show go on. It would be interesting to see whether Megan Delaney could come up with *another* talent -- something she could show in public. --- Overheard around the ship: "So, I said, no way! But then he starts sweet-talking me, and-- " "If the Captain is one of the judges, I bet she--" "No, didn't you hear? The audience is going to be the judge. Whoever gets the most applause, wins. Of course, that pig Paris gets to *measure* the applause!" "--in the holodeck, the Miss Universe Pageant on Risa--" "That slut! Did you SEE her bikini? There isn't enough material there to cover my hand!" "And you have such a talented hand -- OUCH! What did I say?!" "It is illogical to hold a competition merely to grade the size of mammary glands." For once, Tuvok and Seven of Nine found themselves in complete agreement. Unfortunately, it wasn't up to either of them. --- In the end, the Pageant was held in the Mess Hall, due to the illogical but enthusiastic interest among the crew. Everyone wanted to attend, and those self-sacrificing souls who volunteered for duty stood tall, secure in the inner knowledge that they were doing a kindness for their friends, their credit accounts were full, and those they were replacing owed them Big Time. It had further been decided, in interest of making everyone feel welcome, that all participants should compete in the swimsuit event, to be held first. Or as Paris explained to Kim, "Sheesh, Harry, suppose we have a Red Alert, or we get blasted by some evil aliens? You want to go out knowing that we had evening gowns first, and you MISSED THE SWIMSUITS?!" Harry supposed he didn't. (Poor Harry was still having trouble making B'Elanna believe how gorgeous she would look in a swimsuit, a garment she had never actually owned. For some reason, volunteering to go with her while she tried some on hadn't helped his cause.) So the swimsuit competition was held first. The participants were all warmly received, and Lt. Paris, as Master of Ceremonies, had to keep cautioning the audience/judges "No touching the contestants!" But nobody really stood out. (Or rather, everyone did, in all the right places.) Rules were pretty tight as to the minimum size of said swimsuits, and most of what needed to be covered, was. Miss Nine apparently thought swimsuits were illogical, or futile, or something, and appeared in her usual one-piece, up-to-the-neck, how-does-she-go- to-the-bathroom catsuit. Holding an inflatable plastic beachball. Since she was one of the main contestants the audience wanted to see in a string bikini, the disappointment was obvious. So were the catcalls. "Now, now," the MC cautioned. He was as disappointed as anybody, but tried to keep a brave smirk on his face. "Uh, beachwear! Very nice! Let's hear it for all the contestants, yaaaaaay!" As the girls -- ah, crewmembers -- went to change, the judges refreshed themselves. The former Maquis were selling homebrew from the Science Experiment in Engineering (This Afternoon's Finest). Next came the Evening Gowns. Megan Delaney came out wearing a dress which -- well, if you wore it in the evening, that would make it an evening gown, right? It was sky-blue and barely extended past her thighs. She was carrying -- a lollypop? She smiled prettily at the audience and turned around. She dropped her lollypop behind her. She gracefully bent over to pick it up. The judges impulsively applauded this athletic feat, not to mention the matching sky-blue lace-trimmed underwear she was wearing. She smiled at the audience again and began licking her lollypop. Slowly. With long, careful strokes--hell, you get the idea! "Damn!" Janeway swore under her breath. "She *can* do that in public!" "Hey, that's some talented girl, huh, Captain?!" She whirled around to see who she was going to bust to Cadet, but couldn't tell -- it might have been anyone. Still, this whole sorry -- make that decadent -- affair was Chakotay's fault, after all. "Commander, you're a pig!" "Wha--I didn't even clap for her! Besides, she's a blonde!" He smirked. "I prefer redheads. Tall, commanding redheads. Here, Kath--Captain, have a drink." He passed her a cup of Finest. Janeway carefully held the cup at arm's length, almost passing out from the smell. "Commander, listen very carefully." There was so much hubbub around them, it was practically like having a private conversation. Apparently, Mariah Henley's falsies had fallen out and there were cries of "Cheating!" Janeway tried again. "Chakotay, I am not romantically interested in you. I am not sexually interested in you. You are not my type. Do you understand?" Chakotay grinned. He loved it when she played hard to get. Besides, he understood that she couldn't possibly reveal her true feelings here, among these *underlings*. When she used words like 'romance' and 'sex'--oh, he understood, all right! "Yes, Ma'am! I understand perfectly." Janeway sighed, took a drink, gagged, swallowed anyway. Men! Seven of Nine (Tom groaned) came onstage, wearing--again, still- -the catsuit. Holding a flashlight. "And here's Seven! Evening wear! Very nice!" Fortunately, she was followed by Jenny Delaney, who really didn't give a fig for this stupid contest but would be damned if she let her idiot sister win by default. She was wearing a long gown, space- black, showing some very nice cleavage (all of it obviously hers). The gown came down to the ground, but had a side-slit up to *there*. *There* being scientifically defined as one inch above where her bikini thong would be. Had she been wearing one. Which she was *not*. Hurried side-bets were quickly placed as to the possibility of finding out whether she was truly a natural blonde. (100% blonde, but 0% of any of those morons ever finding out!) She put a hand to her lips and blew a seductive kiss toward her lover. Fortunately, every man in the audience thought it was for him. Samantha Wildman just smiled and mouthed, "Later. My quarters." No one could see Sue Nicoletti's dress actually; she was wrapped in a long cloak, hellfire-red. Silk or something. It clung to her figure, but didn't show off her tits or ass or anything interesting. But when she whirled around, it opened just enough to show that her legs were bare. Then she simpered at the audience and said, "Oh, I'm so sorry, but I had a *dreadful* accident with my dress. I got a *terrible* stain on the front! So I had absolutely nothing to wear but this old thing!" Janeway groaned. Most of the men were holding their breath. (Well, holding something.) Sue flicked the cloak over her shoulder, not *quite* revealing anything, and pranced offstage, to wild applause. Sometimes, more *is* less. There was another intermission while the finalists prepared for the Question--er, Insight Interview, and the MC changed his pants. (Apparently, Nicoletti's problem was contagious.) Meanwhile, a discussion was going on backstage. (It would have been an argument if there had been any hope of Chakotay winning.) "Now I realize that Seven of Nine lacks certain social skills in large-scale interpersonal relationships," Janeway admitted, "but I understand she's coming along quite nicely one-on-one." Chakotay wondered who had told her *that*! Had Harry Kim finally gotten to first base? "Anyway," she continued, " we agreed that everyone would be made to feel welcome. I think it would be a friendly, welcoming gesture if Seven could be one of the finalists." "Kath -- Captain, I'm sorry, but Seven just isn't trying. Of course (leer), if *you* entered I would certainly vote for you! Anyway, it's up to the audience. I can't pick the winners!" "No, of course not. Just put Seven in as a finalist, Give her one more chance." She took a deep breath, lowered her voice and smiled at him. "I would appreciate it." "Yes, MA'AM!" Chakotay ran off to tell Paris there would be four finalists, rather than three. --- So the stage was set. The finalists -- big surprise -- were the Delaney sisters, Nicoletti and Seven of Nine. (Lt. Paris saw the wisdom of including Seven just about the time the First Officer mentioned having him pull double shifts for the next 50 or 60 years. Hey, he was a reasonable man!) Nicoletti was first. A hasty Imperial Edict had been issued to the effect that all finalists were henceforth to appear in uniform. She left off her turtleneck, though, which helped a little. "Now, Sue," Lt. Paris gallantly helped her onto the stage, copping a feel as he did so, "your question is, 'What do you regard as Voyager's greatest challenge, and what is YOUR part in preparing to meet it?" The audience groaned. This was way too intellectual. There were cries of "More swimsuits!" Of course, by this time at least a third of the audience was so sloshed, they thought the girls *were* wearing swimsuits. Poor Sue didn't know what to say, so she answered *straight*. A mistake. "Um, our greatest challenge is to get home and, um, we all have to work together and do our jobs." Even as the words left her mouth, she knew this was a loser. She couldn't think under pressure! But Tom smiled at her and said, "Sue, you're absolutely right! Is that a perfect answer or what, folks? Let's hear it for Sue, yaaaaay!" He figured he had no chance with any of the other contestants -- besides, losers were so *grateful* for the attention. The rest of the judges weren't so forgiving. Next up was Megan D. She was in uniform, all right -- the old-fashioned kind with the skort (like Uhura used to wear.) The audience perked up, and in some cases, woke up. Tom asked her the same question. Megan thought very hard. You could see the synapses firing. When Megan thought *really hard* she put one finger in her mouth and pouted adorably. The judges didn't mind waiting. "Um, our greatest challenge is keeping our spirits up, and . . . I want to help all my fellow crewmen keep their spirits up!" Now that was the kind of response the audience wanted to hear! "You can keep my spirits up anytime, Meggie!" Dalby called out. Megan winced. She hated being called "Meggie"! No more Special Privileges for Dalby for a whole week! Next was *supposed* to be Seven, but -- again by Royal Decree -- she was waved back to last position. Jenny took her place. Jenny (the Captain was thankful to see) was wearing an approved standard-issue current-model Starfleet uniform. What was not immediately apparent (at least to the Captain) was that Jenny, who was a size 8, had "borrowed" one of Megan's uniforms. Megan was a size 6. This made Jenny, in the audience's estimation, a "perfect 10". Paris asked her, "What do you regard as Voyager's greatest challenge, blah, blah, blah?" Jenny swept her gaze over the entire company assembled before thoughtfully replying, "I think that our greatest challenge is coming back to the Alpha Quadrant, and I would do *anything I can* for my friends in coming--I mean, going there." This was greeted with wild applause. It wasn't quite a lie. Jenny knew who her friends were. Finally, it was Seven of Nine's turn. Wearing -- of all things -- a Starfleet uniform. On anyone else, this would have looked boring, ordinary. For *Seven* to be in uniform was remarkable. The rest of the audience was nudged awake, and started reexamining curves they'd been taking for granted. (No rank insignia, if you were wondering. She was above such things.) Paris started wondering whether he had a chance with Seven. He could always drop in on Sue later. "Well, Seven, you've heard the question. What's Voyager's greatest challenge, and all that." He gave her his best hot-shot fly-boy leer. Seven, having been carefully coached, refrained from grabbing his private parts and dumping him on his head. She understood that this *was* part of the challenge. She had also been advised as what her answer should be, no matter what the question was. She brought the microphone to her lips, and in a low voice, breathily said, "These are the enterprises of the Starship Voyager. Its continuing mission is to seek out new life and new civilizations. My part is to let some lucky crewmember go where no man has gone before." Then she decided to wing it and ad-libbed, "Resistance is futile." The audience/judges leapt to their feet with a roar, and stormed the stage, carrying Seven off on their shoulders. It was no contest. The First Annual Miss Delta Quadrant Pageant was concluded. --- Whatever happened to: Harry Kim (it was originally his idea, remember?) missed the Miss Delta Quadrant Beauty Pageant ENTIRELY. He had taken Tom's advice, and gotten B'Elanna Torres to agree to a private showing, in the more intimate setting of her quarters. This involved the removal and replacement of several garments. Eventually, *he* got to give *her* a private showing. Then they forgot about the garments entirely, as they discovered fresh and innovative ways -- okay, there's nothing new under the stars. But it was new and exciting for *them* and that's the only thing that matters. They were both winners. Sue Nicoletti let herself be consoled for her loss by Tom Paris, who assured her that in any FAIR, IMPARTIAL contest she surely would have won. She didn't believe him, of course, but he did fake sincerity very nicely. She figured, if he could fake it, so could she. Megan Delaney (who, incidentally, won Miss Congeniality) did her part to boost the morale of her shipmates, and had as many dates as even she could desire. Not to mention gifts of ration credits, trips to the holodeck and other little treats. It was no more than she deserved! Jenny Delaney had a wonderful night of romantic, hot, exciting sex with Sam Wildman -- until 0300 hours, when the baby woke up and started to wail, somewhat louder and more screechingly than a Red Alert siren. As Sam hurried to check on Precious, Jenny made a beeline out the door. Chakotay found himself inexplicably alone. Kathryn had called him a pig -- again. Gee, everyone had been having such a good time! On the other hand, he not only had the profits from the spirits provided, he had the leftovers to solace himself with, as well. After all, it was HIS still. And Miss Delta Quadrant? Seven of Nine devoted herself to spending the next 70 or so years expressing her gratitude, thankfulness and love to her coach, advisor and Captain. And hoping that they *never* got back to Earth. She would MISS the Delta Quadrant! And They All Lived Happily Ever After. --- The End