This is set sometime around the end of series 4 / start of series 5. I realise that one scene clashes with something in 'Someone to Watch Over Me'. The scene was written long before I saw the episode and I decided not to change it. Maybe it's an alternate time line, maybe Seven was faking in 'Someone', or maybe it's time tptb started making the most recent episodes available to those of us in other countries, not just the States.
There is a song included, and you may wish to listen to it before reading. It's the theme from a 70's Yugoslavian children's program called 'White Horses'. I actually sat on the star when I was two (he was a Lipizaner stallion nicknamed Boris!) Including it is shameless nostalgia on my part. The song is available at this TV theme tune archive. (Look under 'W', and please mail me if you find it isn't there).
Rating PG, humour, mild violence, no sex, some nudity.
Please do not publish this story elsewhere without permission, or link directly to it. You are welcome to link to my main page.
The Characters and settings belong to Paramount. This is a non-profit borrowing of them with no infringement intended. Original material copyright © Rowan Green, 2000.
Thanks to Sybil, Otter and Paxwolf for their great help in beta'ing this.
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Cargo Bay 2 was silent save for a gentle hum. The only movement was the dancing green lights of the Borg alcoves. They played over the figure of Seven of Nine, standing rigidly upright, yet perfectly still, as she regenerated. She did not stir when the cargo bay doors slid open. She continued to stand, her breathing even, as footsteps sounded harshly on the metal deck, and two figures approached. A hand reached out, and inexpertly accessed the control terminal.
For a moment there was no noticeable change as Seven came awake in her alcove. She heard the voice of the computer:
"Regeneration cycle incomplete."
And she knew something was wrong. She smelt the usual tang of metal, felt the normal temperature and humidity, heard breathing. Her eyes opened. Facing her was a fresh-faced young blond couple. Though she recognised them as crew, it was not by their clothing. The male wore only a pair of shorts in lurid colours, and carried a bag and a large ball. The female was wearing a bikini, and carrying a small bucket, and some kind of net on a stick. They greeted her with broad smiles. The female giggled as she peered coyly from under a curly blond fringe. The male spread his arms out towards her, dropping the ball, as he cried out joyfully.
"Heeyy, Kelly! Wake up! Time to hit the beach babe!"
****
In a crowded Sick Bay the Doctor was treating Captain Janeway. She sat on the surgical bed in a vest top, her red hair disarrayed, as he pressed a hypospray to her neck. She was rubbing the spot with a grimace of distaste when the doors swished open, admitting Seven and the young couple. Seven ignored her, and the prone figures that occupied the other beds, as she walked over to where the Doctor was rearranging instruments. The Captain watched, her lip developing a slight twist as a smile tried to break through the worry on her face, but she said nothing. She was getting used to Seven's disinterest in protocol.
"Doctor, these crew members appear to be malfunctioning."
At this, the young man, who had stopped by the door with his girlfriend, surged forward and interrupted. "Hey, she's the one who's sick. Says she isn't Kelly."
"I am not." Replied Seven firmly.
The Doctor gave them all a stare that spoke of his weariness with such stupidity. "Please, stop!" Once he was sure he had their attention, he continued. "You will all wait here. I will finish treating the Captain. And then I will check all of you." He let his withering glare linger on them for a moment as he moved away.
The three waited fairly quietly. The couple continued to whisper to each other. Seven ignored them. Having acute hearing, she was able to listen in on the conversation going on across the room. She noted the low tone of the Captain's voice, occasionally breaking. It seemed that Janeway was under stress.
"Doctor, what is my condition?"
The Doctor answered in a sympathetic tone. Sympathy did not, though, stop him being blunt. "You are indeed affected. What you saw in your cabin was created out of your own imagination."
"Can I trust my judgement now?"
"At the moment, yes. The medication will dampen the effect. But probably not for long."
Janeway nodded, considering. "What about Seven?"
"I will have to examine her before I can say anything."
"If her unique biology will allow her to reach the source... Doctor, check her over, and if she is all right, bring her to me." The Captain's tone emphasised her hope.
Seven submitted willingly to the Doctor's examination. She secretly disliked examinations, but hid behind schooled impassivity. He conducted a series of scans, of brain function and body chemistry, humming to himself. As he completed the examination, the curly-haired woman, who had been waiting anxiously, spoke up:
"Will Kelly be OK, Doc?"
The Doctor responded to her anxious tone with all the gentleness he could muster. "She'll be just fine." He turned to Seven. "Please go and sit with the Captain, while I examine our young friends here." Seven got up, listening to the continuing conversation as she crossed the Sick Bay.
"But there is nothing wrong with us!" Stormed the young man.
"Yes," replied the Doctor, "But it will make Kelly feel better if I examine you as well."
Seven raised an eyebrow at that remark. She followed the Captain's indication that she should sit down next to the smaller woman, though she maintained her usual straightness. Seven didn't wait for the Captain to speak.
"It appears I am unaffected, and will be able to approach the source you spoke of." When the Captain looked startled she explained. "My acute hearing allowed me to hear your conversation."
"Nothing uncomplimentary I hope?" Replied the Captain in a dry tone. Seven merely raised a metallic eyebrow.
Meanwhile, the Doctor had administered shots to the couple. He caught them deftly as each in turn slumped, and laid them out in some spare floor space, before rejoining Janeway and Seven. He appeared well satisfied. "A little naughty of me, but it will keep them safe until we can return them to normal."
The Captain interrupted him. "Seven is unaffected?"
"Not quite. However her implants seem to be compensating. So far her mental function is unimpaired, and I predict it will remain so for some time."
The Captain nodded and turned to Seven. Her hand moved slightly down her own thigh as if resisting reaching out to the ex-Borg.
"Seven, it appears we need your help again."
"Elaborate."
Janeway turned to the Doctor. "Fill her in."
The Doctor launched into his explanation with some satisfaction. "The crew is being affected by a form of telepathic attack. The field is affecting everyone, except of course, myself, to a greater or lesser degree. It causes hallucinations. In some cases a compulsion to leave the ship". The Doctor, growing ever more enthusiastic, drew her attention to a display of what appeared to be irregular brain waves. "There's a war going on inside every head on the ship. It's quite fascinating."
"I'm enthralled." Said the Captain.
The Doctor threw her a brief sour look. "Of course, I am able to provide some degree of control using telepathic dampening drugs, but their effect is limited."
Seven asked the obvious question. "Why not move away from the effect?"
Janeway's tone was even as she replied, but her face showed her worry. "The source of the effect cannot be exactly located. Something is interfering with sensor readings. All those who left went the same way, so we believe it may be in that direction. However moving away has made little difference. And we must get our people back."
"You want me to attempt to retrieve the crew members who have left?"
"Yes." Janeway did not beg, but that one simple word was full of emotion.
"I will comply."
****
Voyager had become a very strange place. Though Seven knew that in reality the crew was seriously depleted in numbers, it seemed busier than usual. Many of those she saw ignored her presence, lost in their own worlds. She saw people chasing imaginary butterflies, and rowing imaginary boats. Even worse were those who accosted her, trying to force her to take a role in their own fantasy world.
Janeway had asked her to check on Engineering. A few minutes before Vorik had answered a call normally, confirming that B'Elanna was present, but busy. Further calls had not been answered. Seven paused briefly outside to gather her thoughts. She hoped to find a good explanation. However as she opened the door, the first signs were not good. Vorik and Harry Kim were sitting on the floor, leaning back against the console in front of the warp core, arms around each other as they sang.
"On white horses let me ride away,
To my world of dreams so far away
Let me run, to the sun
To a world my heart can understand..."
Seven looked around. She had hoped to find the Chief Engineer, B'Elanna Torres, but there was no sign of her. In fact, except for the two on the floor, Engineering was deserted. The singing followed her as she checked the second level.
"...Where the clouds are made of candyfloss
As the day is born
When the stars are gone
We'll race to meet the dawn..."
Finally she confronted the singers, directing her questions at Harry.
"Ensign, where are the engineering crew?"
Harry looked at her sadly, singing, breaking off briefly to say, "Gone, all gone."
"Where is B'Elanna Torres?"
Vorik giggled slightly as he replied. "She rode away."
Exasperated, Seven turned away. She tapped her combadge. "Seven of Nine to Sickbay. The crew members here require medication."
Janeway's voice responded. "Message received and understood"
Seven didn't look back as she left Engineering. However the sound of singing followed her as she walked through the doorway.
"...So when I can only see the grey
Of a sad and very lonely day
That's when I
Softly sigh
On white horses, snowy white horses
Let me ride away."
****
Seven sat at the controls of a shuttle. She had been following sensor traces for several hours. The signs had grown stronger, but also less believable. She was following close behind what appeared to be a shuttle, and was able to pick up traces of individual crewmembers, but they made no response to her hails. Sometimes one crewmember would disappear from her readings, only to be replaced by the life signs of a totally different person. She realised she was following mirages, and artificial mirages at that. The inconsistency in the images suggested a badly functioning automatic system, rather than an active intelligence. She decided it was probably safe to proceed.
After further study, she realised that a slight phase variance allowed her to distinguish between the real images and the false. She adjusted her sensors, and, as the shuttle disappeared from the viewscreen, in its place she detected an artificial structure. It was vast, floating stationary in deep space far from any star system. As it appeared through the shuttle's ports, coming into range of her own eyes, she was already slowing, coming to a halt in front of the structure. A less alert person might easily have flown straight in through a gaping opening, surrounded by gaudy multicoloured lights, before they had time to alter course.
The structured towered over (and in fact under) the shuttlecraft. Towers and domes, mountains and hills of sculptured metal. Balconies and arches piled one of top of another, at all angles. As the shuttle approached Seven saw filigreed windows, lights, gilding, metals of all colours, and artificial figures, frozen as they waved and smiled.
She turned the shuttle to fly along the flank of the structure. Close up, the wear and tear of aeons was evident. Windows were cracked and crazed, surfaces pitted and scored, figures wore faded rags and were missing fingers, eyes, sometimes whole limbs. Some lights flickered, most were dead. Debris floated in the zero gravity of gaping, airless holes.
Sensors indicated atmosphere in some parts, and scattered life forms, including several of the same species found among the crew. Unfortunately, interference made it impossible to pin down identities or precise locations. Seven brought the shuttle in close, setting the controls to maintain position within the shelter of an airless crater. She donned a space suit (in case it was necessary to enter the airless sections). Then she beamed on board.
****
She found herself in an artificial environment. Under the warmth of an artificial sun, were gentle hills covered with grass, trees, and flowers. She could hear the buzzing of bees and the song of birds. She made a quick scan with her tricorder, and then headed for the nearest set of human life signs, holding her suit helmet in her fingers as she walked.
Though what she took to be the wall of the chamber (made to look like the slopes of a chalk escarpment) had appeared near, she walked for some time along a path without it becoming visibly closer. The warm sun and buzzing of insects were hypnotic. She only realised how dazed she had become when the sudden appearance of another person shocked her awake. A Talaxian in a white tuxedo pushed out from between some bushes, and totally ignoring her, walked hurriedly away up the path.
"Neelix?" The figure made no response to her call. However her tricorder confirmed that it was indeed her crewmember who was fast moving away from her, looking at a chronometer as he walked. She followed as he disappeared around a clump of bushes.
On the other side she saw no sign of him. However there was a curious hole next to the path. Looking in she saw a glassy, downward sloping tunnel, illuminated with a bluish light, which seemed to filter through the walls. She was surprised to hear Neelix's voice coming up out of it
"Oh my whiskers, it's getting late".
She could hear more muttering, but it was fast receding. If she were to catch up with the Talaxian she would have to act fast. And apparently he had not been damaged in the descent. Her mind made up, she went feet first into the tunnel.
Seven slipped down the tunnel, and then as it became steeper, she found herself falling, though only slowly. It seemed some kind of antigravity device was preventing dangerous velocities. She fell for what seemed a very long time. Through the walls of the tunnel she could see shelves of tinned biscuits, boxes of sweets, and toys. In fact, all sorts of luxury products. Each was labelled in an alien script. She decided it must be some form of advertising display. At last she came to the bottom, landing on a pile of leaves. She seemed to be in a woodland environment. And there was no sign of Neelix. She consulted her tricorder and set off in the direction of the nearest life signs.
Soon Seven was walking through a woodland glade. Again the buzzing of insects seemed to be hypnotising her. She quickly scanned herself, and found that indeed the field was beginning to work on her. She would have to watch herself. It was then that she noticed what seemed to be a little smiling mouth floating near a tree branch. 'How curious', she thought, 'if I am hallucinating why would I think of that image?'
Then the smile was joined by a furry apricot coloured face, then a furry apricot coloured body, sitting up in the boughs of the tree. 'Earth species, cat' thought Seven. She extended her hand, and attempting to make her voice as soft, began to call to the cat, in the way she had seen in a holoprogram.
"Here, cat, come here. Come with me cat."
She was rather surprised at the cat's response. "I will be staying here. The Captain expects it of me."
As far as she was aware, cats were not able to talk. She scanned the being, and was surprised to find she was in fact talking to a holographically camouflaged Chakotay. In fact now she could see that the cat did have some unusual barred markings on one side of its forehead.
"Commander, I am not aware of any orders the Captain has given you?"
"I have to monitor the mouse levels in the sub-roots. If they rise any more we could have a fur particle explosion."
Seven was lost for words, though a keen observer would have noticed a twitch of her implant. She wondered if he was aware of his unusual appearance. In any case, the fact that he was sitting on a tree branch following imaginary orders seemed to indicate that Chakotay was not in a clear mind state. Until a way to restore him was found, there would be nothing to be gained by persuading him to go with her. However he might still have some useful information.
"Commander, which way would you suggest I go to find other people?" She asked as politely as she was able.
"It doesn't really matter." He gestured with a paw. "That way is the mad King's Palace. And that way you'll find a mad spirit guide. Everyone here is mad you know."
"I am not mad." Seven was getting tired of people who were clearly malfunctioning telling her that she was the one with the problem.
"You are. Or you would not be here"
She would have liked to argue with that, but he was fast disappearing again. Only a smile and a barred forehead were visible, then those too disappeared. She decided that a guide sounded a good idea, even if it was a mad spirit guide. She took the path in that direction.
****
The trees were getting thicker. She had to push her way along a path almost obscured by undergrowth. She nearly fell through two resistant bushes, and found herself in a clearing. Before her was a fungus of immense proportions and bright red and white colouration. Sitting on the top was an impossibly large mustard coloured caterpillar, sucking on a pipe attached to some form of chemistry apparatus. She was rather alarmed when the caterpillar took the pipe out of its mouth and exhaled what appeared to be smoke. She hoped this creature was not producing some kind of poisonous gasses. She considered putting on her helmet, but decided to leave it for the moment.
They looked at each other for some time, before the caterpillar addressed her.
"Who are you?" asked the caterpillar.
Seven felt a little irritated at the caterpillar's using such a short tone of voice, and she drew herself up straight;
"I think you should identify yourself, first."
"For what reason?" said the Caterpillar. As Seven could not think of any good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very uncooperative state of mind, she turned away.
"Wait." The Caterpillar called after her. "I have important information."
This sounded more promising, so Seven turned and came back again, though her expression indicated her reserve.
"Try to remain calm," said the Caterpillar. Then he returned to sucking on the pipe.
"Is that all you have to say?" said Seven, tilting her head to one side.
"No," said the Caterpillar.
Seven thought she might as well wait, as it might tell her something worth hearing, and settled herself, standing with her arms behind her back, chin raised. For some moments it sucked on the pipe and blew smoke, without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, took the pipe out of its mouth again, and said:
"My apologies, but I need to be sure you are who you appear to be."
"I am Seven Of Nine, and I have a tricorder if you wish to verify that." Said Seven, who still suspected her time was being wasted.
"It would be logical to assume that if you are false, then so is your tricorder."
Seven drew herself up and glared at the annoying creature. "In that case, tell me who you are, I will scan you, and then at least one of us will be sure."
"I am Tuvok."
Suddenly realising she had perhaps mistaken a lack of emotion for rudeness, Seven felt a little embarrassed. It seemed her thought processes had become more human than she thought.
"Your vocal pattern is consistent, and" (she checked the tricorder readings) "the scan confirms your identity"
She asked her next question with a slight tilt of her head.
"Commander Tuvok, are you aware of your physical appearance?"
"Indeed. It is most illogical since life forms of this type cannot reach this size"
"Your mental function is unimpaired?"
"At the moment, though that situation has changed several times today. I find myself forgetting things, and beset with compulsions, such as to suck smoke out of this pipe." The caterpillar imediately began to suck on the pipe again.
Seven bobbed her head in acknowledgement "Do you have any information regarding the situation here?"
"I have heard reference to a 'mad king'. It appears he will be holding a party shortly."
"Do you think we should 'gatecrash'?"
"Yes, I think we should." The caterpillar lowered itself tail first off the mushroom.
****
Progress was slow at first, as Tuvok adjusted to having large numbers of feet. After walking for some time they found themselves on the edge of a garden. A large rose-tree stood near the entrance: the roses growing on it were white, but there were three Borg around it, busily painting them red. Seven was intrigued, and moved closer. Tuvok put out a hand to stop her, but she reminded him:
"They will perceive me as Borg." He allowed her to approach.
Just as she came up to them she heard one of them say in a Northern English accent, "Look out now, Five! Don't go splashing paint over me like that!"
"It was not my inefficiency," said Five, in a sulky tone. "Six jogged my elbow."
On which Six looked up and said, "That's right, Five! Always blame inefficiency on others!"
"You'd better not talk!" said Five. "I heard the Queen say only yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!"
"What for?" said the one who had first spoken.
"That is irrelevant, Two!" said Six.
"Yes, it is relevant!" said Five. "And I'll tell him - it was for bringing the assimilators Kazons instead of Talaxians."
"Besides," said Six "when has the Queen ever really had anyone beheaded?"
"She had it done to herself, didn't she?" Said Two.
Six flung down his brush, and had just begun, "Well, of all the inefficient things... " when his eye chanced to fall upon Seven, as she stood watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and all of them bowed low.
Seven was rather puzzled by this behaviour and choose to ignore it.
"Explain," said Seven, "why you are painting those roses?"
Five and Six said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low voice, "Why, the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red rose tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, before she comes, to... " At this moment, Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out, "The Queen! The Queen!" and the three Borg gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces.
Seven looked round, wondering if the actual Borg Queen might turn up. But there was no sign of anyone approaching.
Tuvok, who had been watching from the tree line, crawled up behind Seven and brought his mustard caterpillar face up to her ear.
"I can not hear anyone coming, but I think it would be wise to leave while the Borg are distracted."
Seven nodded briefly in assent. "They are unable to assist us." While she was sure that the Borg were no threat to her personally, they were a potential threat to Tuvok.
****
A little further on they came to a wall, and at the bottom of the wall there was a strange little wooden door.
"The strongest life signs are through that door." Said Seven, checking the tricorder.
Next to the door was a little table, and on the table a plate, bearing an iced fruit cake and a knife to cut it with. In front of the cake was a label. Tuvok leant over and read it.
"Eat me." He paused for a moment, considering. "A very clear instruction."
Seven was examining the door. "The lock is operated by some kind of sensor system. Perhaps related to that cake."
"Without a medical tricorder we would be unable to fully evaluate the effects of ingestion."
"I have no need for nutrients at this time." Said Seven. Standing, and taking her phaser from her belt, she fired a shot at the door, which was quickly reduced to a smoking hole.
"That's one way of avoiding an unwanted meal." Said Tuvok.
The hole was rather small, but though it was a squash to get through, they both managed it. Beyond the door was a utilitarian, grey, corridor. It seemed they had made their way into the behind the scenes service area for the establishment. Tuvok in particular had reason to be pleased. As soon as he passed through the doorway, the caterpillar form disappeared, and he was restored to his own appearance. Tuvok was in his nightwear: soft cream flannel pyjamas. While not standard away mission costume, they were at least was more practical than being a caterpillar.
They moved on. Every so often windows gave them a view of the environments between the corridors. From beach scenes to scorching volcanoes, alien cultures, and scenes from stories of worlds known to them both. Some appeared to have ceased to function; plants dead, buildings tumbled, only the red of emergency lighting illuminating their downfall. Others were totally dark, even the emergency lighting having failed. When they came to an airless section, they made their way through it by sharing Seven's suit's air supply, huddling close together so that Tuvok could draw air from the tube. It was lucky that the majority of the corridors seemed in good condition.
Good condition - but a maze. They clearly showed the unplanned growth of the structure. Though the walls were mostly metallic, there was variation in the colour of the alloy from section to section. In places cut marks and welding showed where an old wall had been cut through and a new section added. The corridor took turns around the various habitats, sometimes carrying them far from what would have been the most direct route. However, a glimpse of a large carnivore in one of the environments had persuaded them that the corridors were safest. Even if the animal had merely been a hologram, there was no guarantee of operational safety protocols. It was inevitable though, that eventually they came to a dead end.
The service corridor ended at a choice of two doors. Through the window in the left they saw very little. Darkness had claimed it, and only light from the corridors illuminated the twisted metal of a destroyed environment. It seemed likely that the environmental controls would have failed, and though they still had air, it seemed wise to avoid using it if possible. Through the other door they could see a much more attractive prospect. Unnaturally green, rolling, hills were decorated with clusters of artificial flowers. It seemed to have been designed to be pleasant in appearance, but the effect was rather sterile. To Seven it was a recognisable style.
"It appears to have been designed for children. The setting resembles that in several holoprograms belonging to Naomi Wildman"
"Possibly," replied Tuvok, "though it would be unwise to make such an assumption." He paused briefly to consider. "However it does appear to be our best option."
The decision made, he slowly opened the door and cautiously stepped through.
Inside, the air was pleasantly warm. There was no perceivable movement of air. Birdsong could be heard, though it had the quality of a bad recording and no birds could be seen. To Tuvok, it was reminiscent of the parks found on some of the large generational starships, though the design would have been considered poor. The grass and soil under their feet was real, and as they walked forward it muffled their footsteps.
Seven stopped to pull up one of the artificial flowers from where it was thrust into the soil. She was disturbed by what she found. The flower's stem terminated in a sharp metal spike.
"Commander Tuvok, is it not usual for components in a children's environment to be designed for a high degree of safety?"
Tuvok took the flower from her. "That is true of many cultures. However it is not universal." Tuvok pulled up another flower. This one however had a blunted end. He pulled up two more, finding that their ends also had been blunted. "It seems it may have been a mistake."
"That is reassuring." Replied Seven, dryly.
****
It was easy going over the softly rolling hills of the environment. They crossed several gentle rises, before they came on a valley different to the rest. Here the ground was covered with white. A brief examination established that it was indeed snow. The air was still warm, so it must have been maintained by subterranean refrigeration. They pressed on, their path now marked by a trail of footprints, down a stream-less valley. Around a slight turn they found another feature - a low, domed dwelling. Before they could even consider avoiding it, they heard the sound of music, and turned around to see a group of brightly coloured, rotund figures walking along the ridge behind them, each dragging a sledge. As they came they broke into song.
"Through the park, by twisting way, TV Stubbies come to sleigh!"
Then each in turn slid down the steepest part of the slope, coming to rest around the two Voyagers. The first, a creature of orange cloth with a moon face, approached them, examined them closely, then jumped back as the two of them straightened. Each of the creatures joined in with the chorus of 'ah's. Then the orange one spoke.
"Tipsy sleigh." It looked at the visitors, apparently expecting a response.
With all the dignity he could muster, Tuvok replied. "Yes, Tipsy sleigh." Seven looked at him with surprise.
Another chorus of ah's ensued, then Tuvok was forced to respond to Do-Lally, Wee-Wee and Poo, as each asked in turn for him to confirm their previous activity. Seven looked as if she had stepped in something. However, it appeared that the Vulcan had won their acceptance. They gathered around, touching them, giggling, and exclaiming, "Stubbie guests, Stubbie guests." After a time, Wee-Wee (who was a fetching green colour), changed the chant, the others following. "Stubbie roast?" "Stubbie roast! Stubbie roast!" They began to push their guests towards the building.
Seven, bemused by the strange language of the creatures, resisted their pushes, throwing a glance at Tuvok. "These creatures are behaving irrationally."
Tuvok maintained his usual calm demeanour. "Do not be alarmed. They are merely acting like infants in the early stages of language development. It is likely that they are harmless, and it seems they intend to feed us. I suggest we humour them."
Seven herself was still not in need of nourishment. However she realised the sense of what Tuvok was saying. While she found the creatures' behaviour and speech patterns irritating, it was true that they might be of some use. Forcing her mouth to twist into a rather bad example of the smile she had been practising, she nodded at one of the creatures. "Stubby roast." She said flatly.
The creatures herded them towards the building. They stooped to enter the low, arched doorway. Inside the place was open-plan, with beds at the far side, and a stove in the middle. The door swung shut behind them, and they were guided to a large, soft, couch. They sat and watched as the creatures prepared for a meal. Do-Lally stoked up the stove, loading the primitive machine with some kind of fuel brick. The others formed a line to pass the bricks to the first from where they were stored against the far wall. Occasionally a brick was dropped, provoking howls of laughter as the creatures rolled on the floor.
At one point they all paused, sighing a chorus of 'ohs' and 'ahs' and shouting out their names. To the surprise of the two crewmates, the belly of Poo transformed into a viewscreen and began to show pictures of children playing, while the other Stubbies gathered around to watch.
"Now would be a good time to assess our situation." said Tuvok. To his surprise Seven did not respond, but continued to stare at the creatures with horrified fascination. "Seven, you are distressed?"
"Even the Borg would not use a drone as a viewscreen. It is inefficient." She dragged herself away from the sight. "I will check the windows."
Tuvok moved to check the door. As the creatures appeared oblivious to them, he continued to talk to her across the room. "Maybe this is the origin of the human phrase 'navel gazing'."
"Indeed."
The two Voyagers had only time to find, to their horror, that they were securely locked in, when the Stubbies came out of their trance, and returned to feeding the fire. Once the fire was roaring, the creatures huddled together, giggling and whispering. As the two Voyager's watched they went to a cabinet, and the first two each took out a large knife. Then to their surprise, the whole group advanced on them, those with knives holding them upraised.
"Stubbies roast guests." They giggled.
Though surprised, the two crewmates did not take long to react. Seven tried her phaser, but found it inoperative. Tuvok, of course, was unarmed. They grabbed cushions to use as shields, and headed towards the door.
"Commander, I thought this was a harmless children's scenario?" said Seven as she felt in one of her belt pouches for a lock pick.
"Many children's scenarios are dark. Cannibalism is not unknown." said Tuvok, standing on guard with a cushion.
"I would have preferred to have known that earlier." Said Seven, as she worked at the lock.
The Stubbies walked forward slowly, giggling. Seven gave up on the door and stood beside Tuvok. She looked around, hoping to find a better weapon than a cushion, grabbing her helmet to use as a club. The minimal furnishings did not provide many loose objects. Then the creatures attacked. Seven swung her helmet, but as it met the unexpected softness of one creature's shoulder, she lost her grip, and it rolled to the floor. The Stubbies were surprisingly strong, knocking them down. Seven and Tuvok ducked, allowing the force of the Stubbies' attack to pass over them. The knives missed them, slamming into the doorframe, where they stuck fast. The Voyagers landed on the floor and rolled, hoping to get clear of their opponents. But the remaining two Stubbies were beyond. They found themselves trapped between the two pairs. Though the Stubbies were now unarmed, as the big soft bodies closed around them, the Voyagers realised their situation was serious. The strong, heavy creatures were pushing against them, squeezing the air out of them.
"Get hug! Get hug!" They chorused.
Seven was gasping for air, when she heard a crash. She was aware of a flash of silver that seemed to move through the creature pressing against her chest... and then it came apart. The head disappeared, and for a moment she was treated to a fascinating cross-section of it's neck, before it slumped to the floor. Winded, she also slumped, only just stopping herself from falling, as she dragged in air. In the seconds it took her to recover she was aware of a series of swishes and thuds, then silence. She looked up, seeing first the shattered bodies, that shimmered and disappeared as their program gave up on them. Then she saw the broken round window, through which something had entered. Then she saw a great white creature, and identified it as a horse. Finally she recognised the figure mounted on the beast. B'Elanna Torres, in Klingon armour, and holding a bat'leth.
Still winded, neither Seven or Tuvok were able to say anything. However, B'Elanna did not wait for them to speak. She merely looked them up and down, in a rather aggressive manner, then threw two pieces of card at their feet.
"Be there." She growled, before spinning her mount, and jumping back out through the window.
Tuvok, recovering, picked up the nearest card. "It appears to be an invitation. We are invited to a feast with the King."
"Directions?"
"None. I suggest we proceed as we were. This program may reboot, and I would rather clear this environment before then."
Tuvok handed the cards to Seven, and she tucked them into a pouch. Then they climbed through the window, and made their way up the first sloping hill. As they walked, Seven spoke. "According to the ships database the term 'navel gazing' is of unknown origin. The most popular theory is that it relates to poor reconstructive surgery leading to the navel being located on the victim's face."
"That sounds most unlikely."
"My thoughts also."
****
They made their way through the environment with no further mishap. On the far side they came out into a large red-carpeted corridor. The walls were decorated with wallpaper in shades of gold, and wooden panelling. Here the environment doors were labelled, in English, a fact that Tuvok observed with a lift of his eyebrow.
"Why is this corridor carpeted?" Asked Seven.
"I would theorise that it is a public access corridor."
Seven scanned briefly with the tricorder. "The greatest concentration of life signs is in that direction." She said, gesturing down the corridor.
Tuvok nodded, and they moved on. The corridor did not turn, but a curve in the floor obscured the view in front and behind. It was monotonous. As they walked it revealed nothing but more of the same. Carpets, doors, and by each door a brass plaque, detailing what was behind.
Finally they came close to the source of the biggest concentration of life signs. A large wooden door barred the way. They turned the huge ring handle, and the door opened easily, but with dramatic squealing and groaning. Seven stepped through first. She found herself in what appeared to be a medieval setting. The walls were great slabs of stone, hung with tapestries, lit by smoky torches. Seven heard Tuvok come up behind, and turned... to see he once more appeared to be a caterpillar. She gave him a querying look, to which he replied:
"I suggest you look at your own appearance."
It was only then that Seven realised she was now dressed in a blue dress and white apron. Her features twitched in disgust.
"Either this is a hologram or the field is now effecting me. Inform me if you notice I am acting strangely."
Tuvok nodded his assent. "Please do likewise."
They made their way along the corridor, and turned a corner to find themselves at a side entrance to a great hall. The hall was brightly lit by hundreds of torches. Boughs of pine hung from the walls and scented the air. A great table ran down the centre of the hall, laden with a feast. Around the table sat a multicoloured crowd of people of every species and description. They were entertained by jugglers, magicians and fools. Jauntily irritating music was playing, though thankfully the noise of the crowd drowned it out somewhat. And above them all, on a gallery that circled the hall, ran some kind of vehicle. It was pulled by eight, horned animals, which dragged it around and around, above the heads of the gathered throng, urged on by a fat man who sat on top of the vehicle. He was dressed in red, and wore a white artificial beard that had come away from his cheek on one side.
On a raised dais at the head of the table sat a man. He appeared human, and fairly ordinary, save that his plain brown suit was hung with silver and gold disks. Though he wore no crown, it was a fair bet that this was the King. He waved a chicken leg as he listened to the music. At his feet was a slave girl in a metal bikini, pink harem pants, and with a strange hairstyle: two buns on either side of her head. Behind them, the stones of the wall had been shattered. And through the jagged opening an amazing sight could be seen. Some kind of fleshy, pulsing red/pink mound, laced with tubes full of red liquid and microfilaments and cables. It looked like a giant brain, but was one so large really possible?
Tuvok rippled closer to Seven on his multiple feet. "I suggest we attempt to investigate the far room. I expect this is the feast to which we are invited. Our appearance will give us sufficient camouflage."
He led the way, Seven following behind. Single file was necessary, as in places there was little space between seated revellers and wall, even without the presence of various entertainers. Several times people fell over Tuvok, having failed to notice his low-slung caterpillar body in the throng. Finally they reached the end of the table, but then Seven found herself stopped dead as a familiar figure accosted her.
"My dear Alice! Why, haven't you grown!" Said Neelix, standing in her path and grabbing her arm. "I am so glad you could make it. The King is so looking forward to meeting you!"
Seven shot a glance at Tuvok. He had seen her predicament, and gestured her to stay with Neelix, before moving on.
"This way," said Neelix, propelling her towards the head of the table, "We are late already, and the King does not like to be kept waiting you know."
Seven found herself at the elbow of the King. Close up she could see he was clean-cut, handsome and respectable looking. His suite was of early 21st century style. The disks she also recognised from Starfleet records as being data storage devices. She was startled to realise that the 'slave girl' was Tom Paris. The helmsman was reclining on a heap of red cushions and looking up at the King with a look of total adoration.
Neelix gave her a nudge and advised her under his breath to be on her best behaviour, before moving forward to hover besides the King. He coughed politely to gain his attention, then bowed low when he looked up.
"Your Majesty, I would like to present Miss Alice."
Seven copied the Talaxian's bow. Neelix hissed something about curtseying, but since she had no idea what curtseying was, she ignored him.
"Alice" said Neelix, "This is his Majesty, King Hill Richard." They both bowed low again.
His Majesty gazed at them, his handsome face filled with peace. "Why," he said, "isn't she a strange creature? What unusual jewellery." He reached out to touch her eyebrow implant. Seven tolerated it with some effort. "Tell me Alice," He continued, "do you like music?"
Seven considered a moment before replying. "Yes, I like music." She wasn't actually sure if she did, but felt this was probably the response most likely to receive a good reaction.
The King smiled. "Do you like my music, Alice?" Then he beamed at her. In fact he beamed to an extent that was inappropriate, and somewhat mad.
Luckily he was interrupted by the arrival of a plate of gooey chocolate cake and appeared to totally forget her presence as he turned away to start on the large slice that had been handed to him.
"It appears your audience with the King is over." Said Neelix. "Find yourself a seat and enjoy the party!" With that he gave her a push, before taking a place in a seat close to the King. She was on her own again. She waited until he was in conversation with a neighbour, then headed after Tuvok.
****
She found the Vulcan, still in caterpillar form, apparently in mind meld with what still appeared to be a giant brain. It sat on a metal cup in the middle of the room with no barrier to stop her from approaching and touching. She did so, finding it felt like normal skin. Apparently the brain was in fact covered with skin, though without a skull. Cables entered it at many points, some appearing to be power supplies, others carrying liquids.
Tuvok seemed to be aware of her presence for, in a strained voice, he instructed her to look over to one side of the room. Walking around the great mound of flesh, avoiding trailing cables and tubes as she went, she made her way to a large window.
Below and beyond was a vast room. It stretched on until it faded into the mist of distance. It must have been miles. And it appeared to be all one factory floor. She could see rank upon rank of machinery. Around the machinery worked people. People of every species, but uniformly without emotion. Zombie-like in faded overalls. And every conveyer belt was laden with shining product. Hundreds, thousands, millions of shiny silver disks.
At the end of each belt, the disks were boxed and loaded onto forklifts. She moved around the back of the brain room, making her way to a window at the other side, hoping to see what would happen to the disks. She looked down onto another vast room. This one was stacked high with boxes, boxes and more boxes. Their industry reminded her of the Borg, but even the part of her that was still Borg was shocked by the pointlessness of their activity, when she realised that many of the boxes were covered deep with years of dust. Stunned by what she had seen, she made her way back to Tuvok.
The caterpillar had drawn back from his contact with the brain. His breathing was faster than normal, but the caterpillar face held Tuvok's usual schooled impassivity. "What did you learn?" asked Seven.
"It appears that both The Brain and the king are the result of genetic experiments in the early 21st Century. They and a number of others escaped from custody. When the mutants realised the King's true character they themselves imprisoned him again. The Brain has great ESP powers, and as they travelled over the centuries they created this station as a pleasure palace using his talents. But in time the mutants died out, the King gained his freedom, and found a means of exerting control over The Brain, and this station with it."
"He turned paradise into a trap."
"Indeed." Tuvok paused a second before continuing. "To rescue our crew mates, we must break the King's control."
"Have you determined a means for achieving that?"
"If I meld with The Brain again, I may be able to break the King's control long enough for you to overpower him, and take the main control codes. They are stored on one of the disks he wears on his suit. Once inserted into the computer console, we will be able to disable the control circuits."
Seven looked out at the hall. If the King's enchantment was broken, how would the enchanted react? And just how long would she have to find the correct disk? She cast a glance back at Tuvok, who waved her forward as he once more prepared to meld with The Brain. Failing to think of a better idea, Seven complied.
****
Seven approached the King cautiously. The party was still in full swing. On his throne the King beamed as he watched his subjects enjoy themselves. Seven crept closer, trying to get a good look at the disks on his suit, looking for some clue as to which was the one she wanted. But they all looked the same. Except that some were silver, and some were gold, they had no identifying marks visible. She realised that her only chance would to get hold of as many as possible and try them out. She looked around for crewmates. She would need all the help she could get when Tuvok managed to break the King's hold.
Neelix was still seated at the table near by. She thought he would probably join with her once he got his bearings. Chakotay, still in cat form, was sitting further down the table, on the table to be precise, eating turkey directly from the platter. Tom was still gazing adoringly at the King. As the one closest, he was in the best position to help. If he was able to break out of the conditioning, that was. Seven certainly hoped so. No doubt other crewmembers were about. She saw a few familiar faces, and no doubt, many were disguised, as were Chakotay and Tuvok. She decided her best tactic for now was to talk to Neelix and maybe find out some more information, and stay as close to the King as possible.
"Excuse me." She attempted to get Neelix's attention, and having got it went on to ask "What is stored on the King's discs?"
"Why, his music of course!" He seemed very surprised that she didn't know. "With all our help he's going to make sure that everyone in the universe plays nothing else!" Neelix looked happy and excited.
She decided further enquiry was required. "Why are the disks of different colours?"
At this second unusual question the Talaxian became wary. "What possible relevance can that have?"
His reaction was out of character. Maybe she had triggered something, strayed too close to a forbidden question? "My apologies, I was attempting to express interest."
"Well don't." Snapped the Talaxian. Then his expression cleared and he was his usual beaming self. "It's a party. Enjoy yourself. Have some chocolate cake."
Seven paused only a moment before obediently taking the plate of cake offered by a wandering servant. She didn't see a polite way to avoid it this time. It occurred to her that it might be drugged. Still, she thought as she looked around, it couldn't be too strong if it was, with the amount people were eating. Nevertheless, she ate slowly.
Then the world around her flickered. Briefly she was back in her spacesuit. Then the blue skirt was back. She got ready, wiping her hands on her skirt... before it disappeared once more. She looked around as silence fell. Various Voyager crewmembers had appeared, many in nightclothes. Some, including Chakotay, were naked. He lay on the table with a surprised expression and a turkey leg in his mouth. Some, including Tom, were still in costume. It appeared that not everything was holographic. On his throne the King stopped still, open mouth smeared with black forest gateau. Then his expression clouded, turned to thunder. All around puzzled people started to murmur.
Seven leaned close to Tom, who was picking at his harem pants with a confused and slightly guilty expression, and whispered in his ear.
"Lt., We require the discs on that man's jacket. Are you able to assist me?"
Tom looked around, as if realising he had been caught at something. He seemed relieved to see who she was, and gathered himself, nodding as he asked: "We just grab him?"
"We need to act quickly. Commander Tuvok has broken his control, but it may not last long."
Tom nodded grimly. Together they rushed the King, even as he was rising from his throne and crying "To me, to me!" They pulled him down, and while Tom pinned his shoulders and arms, Seven sat on his legs and began to pull off the discs. Around them puzzled heads turned. Disorientated people tried to make sense of the situation they found themselves in. Tom glanced up, and seeing familiar faces, called the crewmembers to them. They gathered round, some helping to remove the discs, others, still dazed, forming a loose group around them. As they worked Tom recovered from his shock enough to quip:
"Since I seem to be playing Constance Good heart, just who is Captain Proton?"
"I guess that would be my role." Replied Seven with a smile.
Others in the hall were coming to their own conclusions about the situation. They saw the single man held down by a group, and without any other obvious enemy to account for the strange situation they found themselves in, they made what was perhaps an inevitable mistake. The crowd was beginning to coalesce. Maybe it was partly lingering control, but it appeared that they were working up to coming to the King's rescue. The first leaders came up, and began to tussle with the nearest Voyager crew. For now it was just arguing and pushing, but it could easily turn nasty. Seven passed handfuls of the disks to crewmembers to take to Tuvok. With others to help her, the King's suit was fast being stripped, but their situation was also becoming perilous. For now, they held the top end of the hall, but they were too exposed. Chakotay, now wearing a tablecloth around his waist, ordered them to fall back. They moved into the brain room, pulling food-laden tables behind them to form a barricade. The King was half pulled, half carried with them, but part way he twisted free, and disappeared into the crowd.
Inside the room, Tuvok was clearly suffering. Sweat beaded his skin, and his breath came in clipped gasps. It was clear they would need to act fast. While Chakotay commanded the defence, Tom began to feed the disks into a nearby computer console. With each one the same annoying jingly music started and then stopped again, fighting with the similar music still playing over the room's speakers. Outside the King was gathering his troops. Though clearly not a fighting force, sheer numbers made them a danger if he managed to rally them. And it was clear that the majority were willing to believe that it was the Voyager crew that were the enemy. With no other weapons available, the crew grabbed what they could off the tables. As the crowd, rumbling ever louder, began to approach, they held buns, cakes, jacket potatoes and chicken legs at the ready. The crowd too grabbed weapons. In their midst the King appeared, standing high on a table. He raised an arm, with sleeve ripped where a disk had been removed, pointed and bellowed:
"It's all their fault!"
The crowd roared. Then, with a hail of jam doughnuts, battle commenced. Chakotay wiped a red smear from his face, and ordered return fire, soft items only. A barrage of cake and cream spattered the crowd's angry faces. Under the Starfleet onslaught the crowd faltered, looked for cover. Another line of tables was drawn up opposite the first. Seven grabbed a pile of rejected disks and joined the battle line. They'd make effective weaponry if someone escalated things beyond the cream cake stage.
Down the hall the King could be seen drawing together a group of co-conspirators. As the occasional éclair splatted onto the Starfleet lines, Chakotay too gathered his command crew. Tuvok, looking strained, joined them. Chakotay asked for his report.
"Commander, control over The Brain has been broken. The Brain is now attempting to calm down this crowd. However, it appears he is not being successful. Mr Paris has contacted Voyager and they are on their way."
"How long?"
"Approximately twenty minutes."
Chakotay looked inward. "This crowd won't wait that long. We must be prepared for attack. Pass the order. Cakes and potatoes are to be used first. Chicken legs may only be used if they prove ineffective."
At this point Seven spoke up. "We have several large joints of meat." I believe I can make a catapult which will allow us to break down their barricades."
"What do you need?"
"I will require elastic. The crew's underwear should provide sufficient."
Chakotay thought fast. "Neelix, gather together any clothing with elastic. And hand out table clothes."
"Yes Sir, right on it!" Neelix's face was a mix of pleasure and worry, as he contemplated both the joy of being able to help, and the delicacy of his task.
In spite of the grim situation, the Commander could not help a slight smile at Neelix's expression. "Good luck everybody. Dismissed!"
Down the line, all prepared for battle. Nelix gathered a stack of clothing. Others stacked their ammunition ready for action. All were tense, alert, waiting for the lull to end, and the storm to come. A scattered hail of boiled carrots put them all on edge, but they held their fire, and the enemy still did not follow through.
Then, suddenly, the storm broke. A tide of figures rushed forward, a spray of dough, cream and vegetables lashing ahead of it. The Voyager crew responded, meeting it with a wave of baked potatoes. Spattered with mash, the attackers slowed, but were not stopped.
"Fire chicken legs!" yelled Chakotay.
A pattering rain fell upon the crowd. They threw everything they held, and fell back. Just in time as it happened, as the poultry portions were nearly exhausted. The Voyagers took the chance to take stock, and wipe dinner off their faces and bodies. It was not looking good. Though they had a good well-defended position, and combat training in their favour, they were fewer in number, and had less ammunition. Chakotay was relieved to see Seven and Tom wheel forward the catapult, a construct of chair legs and elastic, tied together with rags. On the end of the catapult's arm, a serving dish held a joint, ready to fire. Chakotay ordered it brought into view of the opposition, then, waving a white cloth, stood up on a table.
"Surrender!" He shouted, "We are not your enemies."
From several points opposite came cries of "Never!" then a hail of custard pies. Chakotay got down fast. The pies were no danger, but some were still in their dishes.
He turned to Seven with a grim face. "Fire at will."
Beyond, the crowd could be seen loading their arms with ammunition, ready for another attack. Seven targeted one of the tables. She drew back the elastic and let the joint fly, straight into the heaped plates. The table collapsed, and food rolled and squashed underfoot, tripping the crowd instead of supplying them. But already they were heading forward. Seven sent a second joint into their path, but aside from tripping a couple, and causing them to lose their loads of ammunition, it had little effect. It seemed time was up. The attackers swept forward, meeting the crew and going hand to hand. A few took up long loaves, but these were quickly turned to crumbs and replace with fists. Things had finally turned nasty.
"Hold your fire!" Captain Janeway's voice cut through the noise of the fight. She stood with a troop armed with phaser rifles. The crowd fell silent.
"He's getting away!" yelled Tom, pointing at the far end of the hall, where a brown-suited figure could be seen disappearing through a doorway. But only a moment later he was dragged back. Seven recognised his captors as some of the workers from the factory room. Apparently they had identified their enemy, even if others hadn't.
Janeway ordered her troops forward. The fight was over. With the mopping up in progress she turned to her command crew. She took in their disarrayed and food splattered appearance. Chakotay and some of the others had lost their sheets in the last scuffle.
"Commander Chakotay" She intoned, with a sparkle in her eye, "You are aware that ring donuts are not considered suitable attire for a Starfleet officer?"
"Yes Captain." Said the embarrassed commander as he glanced down then grabbed a plate to cover himself.
****
The great hall had been cleaned and once more was filled with the sound of music. But now the laughter that accompanied it was genuine. Starfleet uniforms mingled with Delta natives of every type, as all enjoyed the party. As the piles of food decreased, tables were pulled back and couples took to the floor to dance. Janeway stood in conversation with a dignified, skinny alien. The creature wore a large medallion, a symbol of authority perhaps. It was appropriate, as he had become something of a spokesperson for the varied victims of the King.
"So, what do you think will happen to these people?" Janeway had been relaxing, but as she spoke, she straightened slightly, marking the more serious turn in her conversation.
"We have found many ships stored on board the station. Most of us will, I believe, choose to return home."
"But not all?"
"Some of us do not know the way. Some of us have reasons not to return." His wise, tranquil face broadened into a smile. "Look over there." He pointed at a couple dancing. They were of distinctly different races; yet the way their bodies moved together spoke of how they had crossed the gap. "Their races are deadly enemies."
"If they returned home, perhaps they could help their people to be reconciled?"
"A nice thought, but they would be risking death." Again he smiled. "Let them have their time of peace."
Janeway turned away and gazed around the hall. "There must be many stories here."
"Yes, many stories, many wounds, but also joys for some." With that the dignitary dipped his head. "Excuse me, I promised to spend time with several others." He withdrew, leaving the Captain to refill her plate and lean against a pillar as she watched the dancers.
Seven approached the Captain. She wanted to confirm a rumour she had heard.
"Captain, is it true that the King is to be left here?" The blond stood awaiting Janeway's response, her expression composed.
"He is contained securely, and it is the right of these people to try him."
"Are you aware that they are talking of execution? Does it not go against your ideals to allow that?"
Janeway started slightly at Seven's searching question. However, she reminded herself, tact was still a social skill which Seven needed work on. She responded evenly. "Talking yes, doing it, I think not."
"It would also be inconvenient to take him with us."
"As I said, these people have the right to try him. Anything else?" The Captains voice had taken on an icy edge.
Seven conceded to the Captains tone of command and changed the subject. "I am puzzled about the King's origin. Apparently he was cloned from a sample of DNA taken surreptitiously from a popular musician. I do not see the logic of this act."
Janeway smiled, glad that Seven had backed down. She was learning. And the subject had been an uncomfortable one. "Sometimes those who are obsessed with famous people are not logical. Probably his creator wanted to have the singer for themselves. They were probably a little mad."
"I cannot understand such a desire for the creator of such unappealing noise."
Janeway's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Love has some strange faces. Besides, maybe the original was more tuneful. A clone cannot reproduce everything about an individual. Art is more than just genetics." Once more Janeway gazed out at the dancers. "I think I will see if I can find a partner here. I would like to dance."
"I would be happy to accompany you Captain."
The Captain was pleasantly surprised. "I was not aware that you could dance, Seven?"
"It is one of the things I have been reading about. I would like to experience it."
Janeway pushed off from the pillar. "Come on then," she looked up at the taller woman. "I think you had better lead, if you feel up to it!"
Seven took the Captain into her arms and spun her onto the dance floor. The redhead seemed to fit naturally there. Briefly Janeway looked up, a sardonic smile on her face. "It seems you have been studying hard?" Seven merely smiled. Then they lost themselves in the dance and the music.
All original material, unless otherwise credited, is Copyright © 1999 Rowan Green. All rights reserved.
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