Title: "Catsuit Blues"
Author: Mike "Monsoon" Gibby
Contact: mgibby@sisna.com
Series: Voyager
Part: 1/1 NEW
Rating: PG
Codes: 7
Summary: Seven of Nine requests a replacement garment, but doesn't get
quite what she expected.
Archive: ASC* feel free to archive, anyone else please ask first.
Disclaimer: All Star Trek characters and such belong to Paramount. I'm
just fiddling around with them, and I don't expect any monetary
gain from this.
Well, this would be officially the first time I've written a Trek-related story. This was just a silly little idea that popped into my head the other day. No new characters, so you don't have to worry about any Mary Sue-isms. :) Certainly plenty of room for expansion afterward, since it's really just a scene as opposed to a full-blown story.
Seven of Nine walked along the corridors of Voyager, trying to ignore the strange glances she received from passing crew members. It was as if they had never seen a coffee stain before. She would have to ask Ensign Kim about the tendency of humans to forcefully expel their beverages at the most unexpected times.
Seven walked into her "quarters" and set a privacy lock on the cargo bay doors. While she could hardly care less if anyone saw her changing into a clean catsuit, it was best to avoid any potential awkward moments.
She removed her communicator and set it on a console, then peeled the dampened garment off and placed it in the replicator to recycle it into raw matter. She had long since determined that replicating new garments was more efficient than using a sonic cleaner, especially where stains were concerned. The dirty catsuit shimmered and disappeared, and the computer announced "Matter reclamation cycle complete. 13 replicator credits have been added to your account. You have 27 replicator credits remaining."
That balance didn't sound quite right, but then Seven remembered the wager she had been maneuvered into by Lieutenant Paris. She normally didn't participate in betting pools, but she had been assured by the Doctor that it was an appropriate social activity, despite the fact that the potential benefits did not outweigh the risks. But, as Ensign Kim had said, "it wouldn't be gambling if the outcome was certain."
"Computer, replicate a new catsuit for me," Seven said with a bit of annoyance in her voice.
"Specify color."
"Bl..." Seven stopped. The Doctor had told her that "variety is the spice of life" on a number of occasions, so she decided it would be appropriate to select a different color than normal. After all, since she wasn't an official Starfleet officer, the color of her clothing was irrelevant. "Green."
"There are 62 available shades of green. Please specify."
Seven sighed. She still found the verbal interface inefficient. Had she been connected to the Collective mind, her request would have been instantly relayed with no confusion. /Of course,/ she mused, /if I were still part of the Borg I would not be requesting a green catsuit./ "Forest green."
"Warning: you will have 2 replicator credits remaining after this transaction. Do you wish to continue?"
Seven considered this for a moment. Granted, much of Neelix's cooking was not the most pleasant to consume, but since she had already recycled her soiled garment, she decided that it would be best to replicate the new garment and make changes to her alcove that would enable her to ease up on the amount of culinary experiments she would be subjected to. "Yes." The computer made its usual confirmation sounds, and in seconds a fresh green garment appeared in the replicator slot.
Seven retrieved the garment and began to put it on. At first it seemed like the other catsuits she had worn since she left the Collective, although the high heels built into the legs seemed a bit sharper than usual. The next thing she noticed was that the legs, while being the shade of green she had requested, were made of a sheer fabric such that her legs would be readily visible. The sheer fabric gave way to opaque satin at the pubic area, so it still met the Starfleet Acceptable Dress Standards for Non-Military Crew Members.
She put her arms in the sleeves of the catsuit, and noted that it zipped up in the front. She pulled the zipper from her navel up to the area between her mammary organs. There was still a considerable amount of cleavage showing, but it was (just barely) within Starfleet's dress code.
Seven assessed her situation. This catsuit was clearly not what she had in mind. She looked back at the replicator in exasperation, and saw that there was still something in the slot. She picked it up, and upon closer inspection it appeared to be a hairpiece, but for some unfathomable reason it had what appeared to be feline ears on top of it in the same shade of green as the rest of the garment. It was apparently intended to "complete the ensemble" (another of those phrases the Doctor liked to use) so she extracted the hairpin she was using, letting her hair fall freely, and put the ears in place.
Chakotay's voice came over the communication line. "Seven of Nine, report to the bridge."
"I am on my way." Fashion was irrelevant. She had been called to duty, and would have to worry about her clothing concerns some other time. She pinned her comm badge to the catsuit and strode out of the cargo bay, the tail of the suit (which she hadn't noticed) swinging behind her.