The BLTS Archive - New Sensations
(Vis a Vis: additional scenes)
by monkee (wiecek@earthlink.net)

---

Archive: asc and blts

Disclaimers: Paramount owns them and would never let them behave in
such a shocking manner.

Author's Notes: The beginning of this story was originally entitled
'Convincing Chakotay' and was a sweet and innocent G-rated episode
addition to Vis a Vis, in which Janeway is trapped in Paris's body and
must convince Chakotay that she is who she claims to be. She succeeds
by reciting the 'ancient legend' to him. One of the last lines of the
story was Chakotay's "If you didn't look like Tom Paris right now, I
would kiss you for remembering that." They didn't, but I got to
thinking, what would happen if they DID. I'm calling this a J(P)/C
story, and it's most certainly the oddest thing I've ever written.

WARNING *RED ALERT * WARNING * RED ALERT: I could disclaimer this
story to death, and still manage to offend someone, somewhere... This
is a J/C story, but since Janeway is in Paris' body, and a moderate
amount of sex is involved, I think it qualifies as slash. If it's
likely to offend, please don't read it!

---

Chakotay burst into sickbay. "Report" he barked at the Doctor.

"He's still unconscious," the doctor responded.

"Revive him." Chakotay ordered.

"Is that wise?" the doctor queried. "We don't know exactly who it is
we're dealing with here. I've found bits and pieces of DNA from
several different sources here..."

"What sources?" Chakotay asked.

"I'm running a level 3 cellular scan," the doctor said, "but it will
take approximately 20 minutes before I have that information."

Chakotay slammed his fist on the diagnostic bed in frustration. "We
don't have time for this. The Captain has taken off in that shuttle
at coaxial warp and Steth, who's claiming to be Tom Paris, is pursuing
her, and I need answers NOW! Revive him!"

The hypospray hissed and Paris blinked. He looked disoriented and
hoarsely mumbled, "How did I get..."

He stopped, his hands going to his throat in panic. He struggled to
get to a seated position on the biobed, but when he looked down, he
gasped and quickly lay down again.

"What the hell?" He looked at Chakotay. "Report!" he ordered.

Chakotay glared at him. "I'll give the orders here, if you don't
mind."

"I DO mind, Mister!" he barked. "What's going on here!"

"Who are you?" Chakotay snarled.

Paris sat up. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager,"
he said.

Chakotay sat down on the other biobed in shock.

"For all I know, he could BE Captain Janeway," the doctor said.

Paris got to his feet now, and began pacing back and forth in front of
the bed. Two security guards were watching him warily from the
doorway. Suddenly, he stopped pacing and stood transfixed by his
reflection in the diagnostic panel.

He groaned and his hand went to his cheek. "Oh, what a nightmare!"
was all he managed to say.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, Paris, but this isn't like
you." Chakotay said evenly. The acting was impressive, but he just
wasn't buying this.

"I'm NOT Tom Paris!" Paris exclaimed angrily. "Paris attacked me in
my ready room, that's the last thing that I remember. I have to get
to the bridge." He started for the door, but the security guards
blocked his path, un-holstering and aiming their phasers.

"You aren't going anywhere," Chakotay told him. "I'm in command now,
and I'VE got to get back to the bridge and find the Captain's
shuttle."  He addressed the doctor, "When you get the results of the
scan..."

"I know where the shuttle is heading," Paris mused aloud, almost to
himself.

"What?" Chakotay snapped.

"I have some of Steth's memories," Paris said. He stood up and
looked directly into Chakotay's eyes. "I know where that shuttle is
heading. I know you don't believe me, but you have to. You need me
up there."

The forcefulness of this assertion made Chakotay waver a bit. Paris's
speech patterns were usually more languid and sarcastic.

"I'm sorry," Chakotay said, "But without being sure, I can't allow you
to get involved in all this and I certainly can't allow you bridge
access." He turned away again, heading out the door.

Paris scratched his head and said to himself,  "I don't know how I can
convince you..." Then he abruptly snapped his fingers, and said,
significantly, "But I can tell you a story."

Chakotay froze in his tracks.

"An ancient legend among my people," Paris continued, with a slight
smile.

Chakotay slowly turned around. "I'm listening," he said suspiciously.

"It's about an angry warrior," Paris continued, "who lived in conflict
with the rest of his tribe - a man who couldn't find peace, even with
the help of his spirit guide."

Chakotay held up his hand for Paris to stop. "Wait outside," he said
over his shoulder to the security guards. He nodded for Paris to
continue.

Paris looked upward at the ceiling as he spoke, as if trying to
remember. "For years, he struggled with his discontent, but the only
satisfaction he ever got came when he was in battle. This made him a
hero among his tribe, but the warrior still longed for peace within
himself. One day, he and his war party were captured by a neighboring
tribe, led by a woman warrior."

Paris began to walk slowly towards Chakotay, and continued, "She
called on him to join her because her tribe was too small and weak to
defend itself from all its enemies."

He stopped several feet in front of Chakotay, and locked eyes with
him. "The woman warrior was..."

Paris stopped and raised his eyebrows, expectantly.

Chakotay blinked, realizing what was expected of him.

"Brave," he whispered.

"And?" Paris prompted.

"Beautiful," Chakotay added softly.

"And?" Paris prompted again.

"Wise." Chakotay said, with a slight smile.

Paris said nothing, but crossed his arms across his chest with a
scowl.

"VERY wise." Chakotay amended, after a moment's hesitation.

Paris nodded once, satisfied. A familiar half smile was starting to
form on his face. Chakotay knew now that this was Kathryn. Paris
COULD have accessed the story from her personal logs, but he didn't
think so. And even if he had, he wasn't capable of a performance like
this. He knew also that they should be getting to the bridge now,
but, irrationally, he had to see if she remembered the rest.

"Go on," he said, quietly, "please."

Janeway/Paris continued, her voice wavering slightly. "The angry
warrior swore to himself that he would stay by her side, doing
whatever he could to make her burden lighter. From that point on, her
needs would come first." Tears were starting to pool in her eyes, and
she closed the distance to Chakotay as she finished the story. "And,
in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace."

She, for he was now certain that it was 'she', was standing quite
close to him, and a tear was rolling slowly down her cheek. Just like
last time, Chakotay thought.

Chakotay couldn't speak for a moment, then moved to within inches of
Janeway/Paris's face.

"If you didn't look like Tom Paris right now, I would kiss you for
remembering that," he said, fervently.

"I dare you," she whispered, not breaking his gaze and leaning towards
him, a challenge in her eyes.

His lips hovered a few centimeters from hers. For some reason, it
didn't seem the least bit odd to him that he was ready to kiss the
hell out of Tom Paris's lips. Perhaps because he knew that Kathryn
would never really allow it. At least, he didn't THINK she would.

But he was unprepared for the raw desire in those eyes and her
breathing had become irregular, as had his. What had gotten into her?
He accepted the fact that Kathryn was trapped in Tom Paris's body.
But was the situation having some other unusual effects on her? He'd
waited for years to see that look in her eyes, and now it was there,
but they were Paris's eyes. It was all very disconcerting. His
feelings for the woman he loved and for Tom Paris were becoming
blurred. He KNEW that this was not Paris, but hearing Kathryn's words
and vocal inflections coming out in Tom's voice, and seeing her
expressions, her smile on Paris's face - it was confusing. His desire
for Kathryn Janeway was something that he fully understood. It was a
part of what he was. But Tom Paris... He and Paris - they'd settled
into an uneasy friendship over the years. There was a casual
attraction between them, too, he knew.  Nothing that either of them
would ever feel compelled to act on, certainly, but it was there.

Breaking the deadlock, Janeway/Paris moved, just a fraction, and
brushed her lips against his. Her lips, not really hers, were smooth
and warm and he gasped at the sensation. At the sound, she closed her
eyes, and murmured, "Oh God." Then, abruptly, trembling slightly, she
stepped back, shaking her head firmly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I...
I'm sorry."

He was unable to speak as he caught his breath and got himself under
control. She averted her eyes guiltily, and rubbed her forehead.
When her fingertips brushed the short bangs, she rolled her eyes and
snorted, "Damn, this is strange." He smiled in response, and their
eyes met, and they both suddenly remembered what it was they were
supposed to be doing.

At the same time, they both said, "The Bridge."

He took another deep breath, and they headed out the door.

---

The crisis averted, the Doctor summoned Janeway/Paris to sickbay.
Paris/Steth's ship, with the alien/Janeway's shuttle in tow, had just
docked and he wanted to complete all of the transfers as quickly as
possible.

Although there was no real reason for him to be there, Chakotay
decided to go along as well. He couldn't seem to tear himself away
from Kathryn. Somehow, being trapped in Paris's body had lifted her
inhibitions regarding him. On the Bridge, the connection between the
two of them had been palpable.

They stepped onto the lift and eyed each other uneasily as the doors
closed behind them.

"Chakotay," she said, uncertainly. "I. . . want to apologize for
before. I don't know. . . I don't know what came over me. This is all
so strange for me."

"I can imagine," he said. "It's all right. I don't know how I'd
respond if I suddenly found myself inside a woman's body. . . "

She laughed at that, and he grinned in response, then rolled his eyes
and said, "You know what I mean."

"It's just. . . I'm used to being small. And now I'm so. . . tall.  I
feel. . . strong? Powerful? No, that's not it. . . " She let out an
exasperated breath, clearly frustrated at her inability to articulate
the way she felt. "I don't know," she continued, "I guess I'm just
not used to contending with male hormones."

She leaned back against the wall and looked at him, and suddenly he
felt it again. The connection between them. The air in the turbolift
was charged with sexual tension. He inhaled sharply, and she shut her
eyes, as if she could block it out by not looking at him.

"Damn," she whispered.

She opened her eyes, and moved towards him, clenching her fists,
clearly trying hard not to touch him. "Chakotay," she said hoarsely.
It was a tone he'd never heard in Paris' voice, but it was there now.
Paris' voice, Paris' physical presence, but Kathryn's spirit. It was
taking his breath away. "When I'm near you," she continued, "I always
feel some degree of attraction, but in this body, it feels so
different. I want to. . . I want. . . " She had moved dangerously
close now, and he was backed up against the wall of the lift, knowing
he should move away, knowing that he should say "Captain," and remind
her about where they were, who they were, but he didn't. Instead, he
said, "Computer, halt lift."

Janeway/Paris latched onto his mouth with so much force that his head
banged against the wall of the lift. Temporarily thrown off balance,
it took him a moment to respond to the hungry press of those lips on
his. But he recovered quickly enough, put his hands on her shoulders
and kissed her back, opening her mouth with his tongue. He tried to
move away from the wall, but she shoved him back, obviously deriving
some sense of satisfaction from her new strength.

He'd never been with a man. There had always been a woman in his life
somewhere. Someone that he was either involved with or interested in.
Oh, he'd experimented just a bit at the academy, a few tentative
kisses, a few touches. Nothing like this. This was. . . indescribable.
When he'd imagined kissing Kathryn, he'd imagined having to be careful
not to hold her too tightly when he pulled her towards him. He'd
imagined having to bend down to meet her lips. He'd even imagined that
he would be the one pressing her against the wall, although that was
presumptuous. Now he was the one with his back to the bulkhead,
restrained by a body that was marginally taller than his, and nearly
as broad. He knew that Kathryn was in there – he could clearly sense
her  – but it was Paris' body, and he couldn't deny how aroused he was
becoming by it. As was she. He could feel her erection rubbing roughly
against his, through the material of their uniforms. She groaned, with
Paris' voice, a loud, masculine sound that echoed in the lift. "Oh,
God," she choked out, pulling away from him.

He groaned now, at the frustration of feeling the body move away, but
gasped when a large hand pressed up against his cock. He opened his
eyes and saw her move back close to him. She touched her forehead to
his, looking down to watch the long, distinctive fingers rub his
erection. She was trembling noticeably, and her breathing was ragged.
"Oh, God, Chakotay," she moaned. Then, in a whisper, she added, "I
want. . . please. . . touch me."

With those words, he suddenly knew exactly what she was feeling. She
was feeling the euphoria of knowing, first hand, what sexual arousal
felt like for the other gender. He'd experienced this before himself.
When he'd made love to Riley Frasier, he was able to feel what she was
feeling. When he penetrated her, he'd felt what it was to be
penetrated. He'd felt her climax build even as his had. It had been
the most incredible sexual experience of his life even though he was
not even completely coherent at the time. In many ways, he knew that
this was what Kathryn was experiencing right now, and he wanted badly
to give this to her.

Grasping her arm, he turned her around roughly, so that he was pressed
against her back, and she was facing the wall. Reaching around, he
pressed his hand firmly on her erection, and rubbed slowly up and down
the length of it. Simultaneously, he ground his own arousal against
her ass. "Chakotay!" his name exploded from her in Paris' voice as she
pushed back against him, clutching at his hand, pressing it against
her cock. Then she was pulling her uniform pants open, moving his
hands inside to touch flesh. "Touch me," she repeated. He tugged her
pants down past her hips, then moved his hands up, cupping her balls
gently. She arched against him, still trembling, and then he wrapped
his fingers solidly around her cock. It was at least as long as his,
he noted, clinically, although not as thick. It was warm, silky smooth
and rock hard.

He began stroking her rapidly and steadily, and she gasped. He
struggled to maintain the rhythm and still turn his head to study the
expression on her face. It was Paris' face, but he could distinctly
see Kathryn's focus in the eyes. Her rapt expression of pleasure and
concentration was something that he'd only once glimpsed, when he'd
given her a neckrub on New Earth. He'd fantasized about seeing that
expression on her face again. A low sound was emanating from the back
of her throat now, something between a constant growl and a hum – he
knew it wouldn't be long now, but he wasn't satisfied. She was
thrusting and bucking into his hand, and her eyes were no longer
focused on anything – she was close. But he wanted to give her more.
She groaned when he released her, but her eyes widened when he turned
her around again and knelt before her. "Oh GOD! Chakotay!" she moaned,
winding long fingers into his hair, pulling his head closer. . .

"Sickbay to Chakotay."

She pulled away from him so fast that he nearly lost his balance. She
folded her arms across her chest and was nearly doubled over in an
effort to regain control of the body, and her breathing.

Damn.

Still on his knees, he hung his head, took a deep breath, and said,
steadily, "Chakotay here."

"Is there a problem, Commander?" the Doctor asked. "The others are
here and I am ready to begin the transfers. According to the computer,
the turbolift has been stopped between decks four and five. . . "

"There's no problem," Chakotay sighed. "The Captain and I just had
something to. . . discuss. We'll be there shortly."

"Very well," the Doctor replied. "Sickbay out."

Chakotay slowly rose to his feet. He eyed Janeway/Paris from across
the lift – she wouldn't meet his gaze, so he walked over and stood
before her, framing her face with his hand. It was still surreal to
see Kathryn's feelings so exposed on Paris' rugged features.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "We can't do this."

"I know, Kathryn," he said. "I'm sorry, there's nothing wrong with MY
hormones. I should have had more control. This was my fault."

"No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have. . . I just wanted to find out
what it was like, but it was. . . wrong. It wasn't my body to
experiment with." She was gathering herself together, re-fastening her
uniform.

"Is that all this was to you, Kathryn?" he asked, trying to keep the
bitterness out of his voice. "An experiment?"

She looked up at him suddenly at that, and said quickly, "God no,
Chakotay. You make me feel this way all the time. But in this body, it
was so. . . strange. The sensations were powerful and I didn't know
how to control them. And I didn't want to. I wanted you."

She'd reached over and put her hand on his chest, then she trailed her
fingers upward along his neck, stopping at his chin and rubbing her
thumb over his lip. "I always want you," she whispered.

With trembling hands, he caressed her neck. He wanted Kathryn Janeway.
Now. Beneath him, crying out his name. But the body that he was
holding belonged to Tom Paris. He was mad to kiss this face again, to
taste these lips again – but Kathryn was right. It was wrong to use
Paris' body like this, although he suspected that Paris would not
mind.

"Kathryn?" he said, his voice shaking.

"What?" she whispered, unevenly.

"When we're finished in sick bay, and you're in your own body again. .
. "

"Yes," she prompted.

"I'm going to take you to your quarters and make love to you for the
rest of the day. Understood?" It was a bold statement, but what the
hell.

"Okay."

"You can't deny that you want me. Not after this. And I want you and
we have to at least try. . . What did you say?" His brain finally
caught up with his mouth.

"I want you Chakotay, and I think we can do this.  I think we really
don't have a choice anyway. I can't fight this anymore."

He kissed her then, hard, immediately pushing his tongue between the
lips, tasting her, tasting Paris – it didn't matter anymore. He ground
up against her, feeling her hardness next to his. Then they pulled
apart, triumphantly. He could see the joy and excitement that he was
feeling reflected in the blue eyes that weren't really hers.

She smiled wryly, and said, "But when we're finished in sick bay, I
think we'd better take separate lifts to my quarters. Otherwise we'll
never make it."

He frowned.

"What?' she asked.

"I'm afraid that once this is behind us, you'll change your mind," he
confessed. "You have to admit that your change of heart was a little
abrupt and it happened under unusual circumstances."

"Oh, Chakotay," she said, touching his cheek gently with a large hand.
"It was just a matter of time. I. . . I've wanted this for so long."

He looked intently into the blue eyes. He couldn't read the nuances of
expression on Paris' face, but he knew that the eyes would not deceive
him. He could detect no uncertainty there – just firm resolve, and
love. He let out a relieved breath. "You're sure?"

"Positive," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

He smiled, satisfied. "Well, right now we'd better get going, before
the Doctor scans us and figures out what we're doing in here, if he
hasn't already."

She smiled and took a step back, leaning against the wall of the lift.
"You're right. Computer, resume lift."

He remembered in the nick of time. "Halt lift," he ordered, suddenly.

"Chakotay. . . " she warned.

"Kathryn," he said. "We have to wait a minute. Look at yourself. Look
at me!"

She looked over and saw the bulge in his pants, and then, laughing,
looked down to see the bulge in hers. "Oh, right. I forgot."

After another moment had passed, she looked down again, impatiently.
"How long does this take, anyway?"

"Not long," he replied, smiling. "Conjugate a verb or something. . . "

She snorted. "Well, this is really inconvenient. How do you put up
with it?"

He shook his head, grinning. "Kathryn, I have to contend with this
almost every other time I leave your ready room."

She grinned. "Really?" She bit her lip and winced, "I'm sorry. . . "

"The hell you are. I swear you do it on purpose!"

"I most certainly do not!"

He chuckled, and pointed to the other side of the lift. "Just go stand
over there, okay? And don't look at me!"

Eventually, command training kicked in for both of them, and they were
able to regain control of themselves. When they entered sick bay, they
were both the very epitome of professionalism.

---

Chakotay idly pushed some food around his plate with his fork, no
longer hungry. He felt someone slowly run a toe up his calf and smiled
slightly at his dinner companion. She smiled back, as unobtrusively as
possible. They were trying, but he was afraid that they weren't being
quite as subtle as they'd planned.

True to her word, Kathryn had made love to him all afternoon. After
everything had been straightened out in sickbay, and Steth and the
alien were on their way, they had taken separate lifts to her quarters
where they quickly set upon each other like animals. Kathryn was never
one to do ANYTHING half way. Eventually, their wanton lust had evolved
into something a bit more intense and meaningful. Finally sated, and
starving, after hours of lovemaking, they'd discovered that both of
them were out of replicator rations for the week, and decided to risk
a trip to the messhall together. Kathryn found it exhilarating, she
said, to be among the crew, with them not yet knowing that they were
lovers.

But he was sure that everyone could tell just by looking at them. He
could tell that he had a goofy expression on his face, no matter how
hard he tried to be stoic and professional. And she. . . she was
glowing. She was. It was a clichι, but he didn't think she'd ever
looked as beautiful as she did tonight.

Yet no one had given them a second glance, so they must be doing a
better job at hiding their feelings than he thought. Scanning the
room, he froze when he saw Paris. He was sitting, alone, at a small
table near the viewport. The other sounds in the room faded away as he
stared at the younger man. He'd been so immersed in his time with
Kathryn all afternoon that he'd nearly forgotten, but now the memories
returned with a vengeance. A solid masculine body backing him up
against the wall. The taste of those lips and that tongue. Low,
aroused groans echoing in the lift. The silky warmth of that cock in
the palm of his hand.

He shifted in his seat, feeling the first faint stirrings of arousal.
What the hell was wrong with him? He'd just spent an entire afternoon
of ecstasy with the woman of his dreams and now he was sitting here
gawking at Tom Paris. He glanced guiltily over at Kathryn, and was
stunned to see her biting her lip and looking over at Paris with
ill-disguised appreciation as well. He kicked her under the table.

Snapping out of her reverie, she actually blushed. "Sorry," she said,
sheepishly.

She leaned toward him and spoke softly, "What I did. . . with his
body. . . it was wrong, Chakotay."

"What WE did, Kathryn. And yes, it was wrong. But I don't think guilt
is what I saw on your face just now," he told her.

"I. . . " she said, lowering her eyes, "I don't know what's wrong with
me."

"It's all right," he said, "I feel it, too. It was a bizarre
experience. We're bound to be a bit confused. But, after all, this is
Starfleet, Kathryn, and. . . "

"Weird is part of the job!" she finished. He grinned.

"I can't explain it," she continued, nearly whispering. He had to lean
in to hear her. "But I was inside him, Chakotay. I felt what it was
like to move around in his body, with his skin stretched around me. I
feel like I know him so. . . intimately. . . now, and. . . I don't
know. . . I miss it. I miss him. Sort of."

"Maybe we could. . . " he blurted, then stopped.

"What," she prompted.

"We could ask him if he'd like to. . . " he said, tentatively.

She laughed, quietly. "Are you out of your mind, Chakotay? Be serious!
I've taken a big enough step just getting involved with you. . . and
now you're suggesting. . . "

He stopped her mid-sentence, raising his hands in surrender. "I know,
bad idea," he smiled. "I know."

"Besides," Kathryn added, "B'Elanna would kill me. And you. And HIM.
She'd kill all THREE of us!"

"Yeah," he agreed. "I know."

She sighed again, looking at Paris with a far-away look in her eyes.
"But still. . . "

"Still. . . " he agreed, his voice mirroring her regret.

---

Tom Paris sat alone in a corner of the messhall, staring out the
viewport into space. What a day he'd had! He'd been yearning for a
little excitement, but this had been ridiculous.

He was damned glad to be back in his own body, that much was certain.
Steth's body had felt awkward and all wrong, somehow – short, clumsy,
and out-of-shape. And he was incredibly grateful to be back of
Voyager. Nothing like an out-of-body experience to give a guy some
perspective and help him appreciate the good things in life.

Still, though – he'd yet to work through some of the more troubling
aspects of the whole affair. He'd managed to avoid B'Elanna so far
because she was on duty. He was afraid to face her – it wasn't HIS
fault that the alien had seduced her when he was in his body, but
somehow he felt like it was. He would never forget the surreal moment
when the alien, with Janeway's face, had told him 'Give B'Elanna my
regards,' and then laughed, lecherously, in Janeway's voice. He'd
probably have nightmares about it for years.

This was one of those times, he decided, when Voyager could really use
a ship's counselor. He'd never bring it up though. With his luck,
everyone would decide that he was the man for the job.

With a start, he realized that he was being watched. He glanced across
the room to see the Captain and Chakotay staring at him, talking
softly with their heads together. A couple of years ago, their
proximity would have set off a flurry of wagering in the 'when will
they get together' pool. But everyone had given up on that. The two of
them would never do it. They were the most boring and responsible
people in the damned quadrant.

Why the hell were they staring at him like that? They were probably
talking about how irresponsible he'd been lately. Or maybe they were
just concerned about him. He glanced over again and nearly dropped
his fork when he saw the look in Chakotay's eye. And Janeway was
actually biting her lip.

He blinked. Were they actually. . . No, they couldn't be. Could they?
It almost seemed that they were looking at him with. . . longing. BOTH
of them. Chakotay's eyes were boring into him, and the look on
Janeway's face was so. . . carnal. He forgot to breathe.

Stop. No – this was insane. He squirmed in his seat. It was actually
GETTING to him. He didn't know why he'd never noticed how. . .
sensual. . . Chakotay's dark eyes could be. And he had a sudden mad
desire to risk court martial, lower Janeway to the floor, and. . .
Hedonistic images flashed across his brain. The three of them, tangled
together, sweating, touching, biting, sucking. . .

STOP. This was madness! He pushed his fingers impatiently through his
hair, and rose abruptly. He left the mess hall without looking back.
'BAD idea, Tom,' he told himself. He stopped in the corridor,
uncertain as to what to do with his sudden excess energy. Then, he
knew. He actually sighed with relief.

When he got to the holodeck, it was, mercifully, unoccupied. "Paris
program Alpha One," he ordered. "Grease Monkey."

Sometimes, a guy just needed to work on his car.

---

The End