This little ditty was inspired by the recent brouhaha over in the RB Fold on AOL regarding 7/9's screentime. Following the recent Voyager trend, it's a tad light on OFFO, but cheer up, he gets the last word at the end. I welcome all comments and criticism, but please be gentle, I'm sensitive and would like to stay that way. Now, before reading, please do the following:
1) Stick tongue firmly in cheek, and 2) Engage sarcasm shields
Necessary evils: All hail the mighty powers of Paramount who do solemnly own these characters. Meekly do I fear to tread within their hallowed halls and dare to have my wicked way with them.
The Seven of Nine Show�or Babes in Borgland
The ready room doors swished open for Capt. Kathryn Janeway as she strode into her private sanctum with a confident gait. But not even the bad-ass attitude of Action Kate could have prepared our intrepid captain for the sight that now met her eyes.
Seven of Nine sat at Janeway's desk ... in Janeway's chair ... sipping coffee from Janeway's cup ... wearing Janeway's *uniform*, complete with *all four* pips.
"What the ... !" spluttered Kathryn.
"I assume from your reaction that you have not been informed of the change in command structure aboard Voyager," Seven stated matter of factly.
Janeway eyed Seven suspiciously. "What change?"
"Apparently The Powers That Be have decided for the good of this show, this crew, and their wallets that a more stimulating presence be placed at the head of this command hierarchy. And while you do possess a certain charisma while wielding a compression phaser rifle, for the most part you've been rather dowdy lately. I believe, Captain, that they feel you're in need of a rest."
"Dowdy! A rest! Well, what do they expect? It's the way they've been writing me. First the Borg, then the Year of Hell that never actually existed, aliens that put screws in my brain and force me to fly into the sun, giant Hirogen chasing my crew around ... and on top of all that they give me *another* new hairstyle and then give me alien nightmares when I should be getting my beauty sleep. Who wouldn't be tired?" Janeway retorted in her patented command stance: hands on hips and jaw set firmly. "Besides, I'm a trained Star Fleet Captain. We don't grow on trees you know. I've got experience in making life and death decisions, negotiating skills, even scientific know-how."
"But *I* have got the 'equipment' necessary to really fill out this position," Seven said as she stood, her newly tailored command uniform clinging to her tighter than Worf on Dax.
"I've given the last three years of my life � they can't just toss me aside now."
"Oh, but they are not. You are just getting a new duty assignment," Seven said sheepishly. Stepping to the replicator, she pushed a few buttons, saying, "And now Kathryn, it is time for you to be assimilated." She turned and handed Janeway her new uniform: the blue/black togs of a science officer with three pips and padded cups.
Janeway stared at the proffered uniform, then at Seven's overwhelming 'apparatus', and felt a twinge of intimidation. "Do I have to get a new hairdo," she asked in a small voice.
"Well, they are thinking of having you go back to the ponytail. Oh, and you are going to get redder too."
At the mention of having to submit to yet another coiffure, Janeway's eyes blazed. "You almost had me there for a minute, but I will *never, ever* accept this. This faded redhead's about to teach TPTB a lesson they won't easily forget." Tapping her chest, she pulled herself ramrod straight and commanded, "Senior staff, to my ready room on the double!"
But instead of the ready room being instantly invaded with her defenders, Janeway was left with deafening silence as Seven stared her down. "I think you will see, Kathryn, that the senior staff know which side their bread is buttered on. In a showdown between you and TPTB, you are going to lose. You can not fight them � just ask the J/Cers."
"We'll just see about that," Janeway answered over her shoulder as she exited to the main bridge. Looking around at her senior staff, she asked, "All right, senior officers, I've decided that it's time we take on TPTB. Tom, set a course for Paramecca. Tuvok, what are your tactical recommendations?"
"Since it is TPTB's wish to provide Seven with more screen time, and since, as of late, I have been spending a majority of my screen time with Seven, it is logical for me to support this move in order to maximize my presence in upcoming story lines. Therefore I must inform you that regardless of our friendship I am unable to comply with your wishes. And I would advise you to accept your new role with supreme grace and dignity � or as much dignity as that padding will allow."
Shocked by the denial of her oldest friend, Janeway turned to her hell-for- leather pilot. "Tom," she hissed, "My action-hero problem child. You'll take on TPTB with me, won't you?"
With his trademark cocky smirk firmly in place, Paris eyed Janeway up and down. "C'mon, Kate, you could do with a makeover. Frankly, you've been in need of a major image update since you were a salamander. Don't ya think, Harry?"
"You better believe it. I'm with Seven on this one. Us beautiful people have to stick together," Harry chimed in, the lights shining off his perfectly moussed hair. "Besides, I really don't trust anyone who doesn't have a *fabulous* hairstyle like mine."
Janeway couldn't believe it. Three of her senior staff members refusing to support her. //These PTB must be truly *evil*//, she thought, //to have assimilated her loyal supporters so quickly//. Her last chance was her Maquis contingent. As she looked at her half-Klingon engineer trying to sit comfortably in her snug new uniform, Janeway knew her blood must be boiling. "B'elanna, surely you can't be supporting this movement? Answer your warrior's call and come with me to show TPTB that today *is* a good day to die."
"Sorry, Captain ... err, ex-Captain, but frankly, I'm for anything that'll take TPTB's minds off P/T story lines for a while," said B'elanna still pulling at her uniform and catching an approving leer from the pilot, "Ugh."
One lone member of her senior staff remained. But he was the one who had pledged himself heart and soul to Janeway. Turning to him, putting a hand on his broad chest, Janeway whispered intently, "Chakotay, my rock, my friend, I know you won't let me down. We can fight them together! We'll rally our devoted J/Cers and hit TPTB with the one thing they can't stand: another letter writing campaign!"
"Kathryn, please, it's no use" Chakotay took Janeway by the elbows and looked deeply into her eyes. "Can't you see it's better this way? Without the stress of command, you can finally relax those damn parameters of yours, and we can explore all the subtleties of our relationship � which is exactly what the J/Cers have wanted all along."
"Et tu, Chakotay?" Janeway sighed as she slumped into the science officer's station clutching her new uniform, a beaten woman.
"Besides," Chakotay said with a solar-flare grin, "I've always wanted to see what it would be like to have you serve under me."
--the end--