by
Merri Todd Webster
THE OVERTURE: Characters and setting by Paramount. Score by Vince
Guaraldi with inspiration from Charles Schulz. Costumes in collaboration with
Amirin Fashions. Fruitcake by Neelix Catering. Holiday madness by moi.
---
(Music: "Christmastime Is Here," instrumental)
"Captain! May I see you for a moment?"
Kathryn Janeway looked up from her computer terminal, which displayed the
seventh of the more than thirty monthly departmental reports she needed to
review. Neelix was standing in the doorway of her ready room, hands behind
his back.
Janeway waved her morale officer in, grateful for a momentary distraction.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Neelix?"
The Talaxian approached the captain's desk but did not take a seat.
His hands stayed tucked behind him as he beamed on Captain Janeway with
his usual good humor. "Well, Captain, I was doing some research on
Federation holidays because, well, because our celebration of Prixin
wasn't quite the usual due to my, uh, accident, and frankly, I was
hoping to find some other holiday in the near future which we could
observe to, well, sort of make up for it. And I found one." His smile
grew even jollier.
Janeway waited. And waited. Then decided she'd better ask. "And
what is it, Mr. Neelix?" she said, very patiently.
"Do you know what today is, in your old Earth calendar?"
Puzzled by the apparent non sequitur, Janeway shook her head. She'd
stopped thinking in the Gregorian calendar years ago.
"It's December twenty-first. That would be the Winter Solstice on
Earth. And that means it's almost Christmas!"
Despite herself, Captain Janeway smiled. Christmas. . . "Would you
like to hold a Christmas party, Mr. Neelix?"
"I would love to, Captain! Oh, I realize not everyone on board
practices that religion, or is even from Earth, but most Earth cultures
celebrate the Winter Solstice with a kind of festival of lights, and so do
cultures on other planets where a winter solstice occurs. I don't
think it would offend anybody if we held a Christmas party."
"Then handle it, Mr. Neelix. Make the preparations, inform the
crew." She smiled warmly. "I'm sure you'll do a fine
job."
"Thank you, Captain. And to start the ball rolling, as your people
say, I'd like to present you with a little gift." Neelix whipped
out what he'd been hiding behind his back: a small rectangular tin
decorated with a snowy scene within a border of holly. "It's a
traditional Christmas sweet. I found the recipe in the computer and it
looked delicious. It's called 'fruitcake'."
As the cool, heavy tin settled into her hand, Janeway's face fell.
She'd always hated fruitcake. . .
---
(Music: "Christmas Is Coming")
"Are you coming to Mr. Neelix's fr-- Christmas party,
Chakotay?"
Janeway's First Officer smiled at her over the clay table. "Yes,
I am. I think we could use a little Christmas right now. Did you see that
he's making it a costume party?"
"A costume party. . . " Janeway's voice trailed off, her
hands slowed and then stilled on the responsive lump of clay, as she
contemplated what she might wear. And what her virile First Officer might
not wear. She shook her head fractionally and dragged her attention back
to the task at hand. "A costume party will be lovely. Maybe I'll
come as Mrs. Claus."
"Who?"
Janeway grinned. "Sorry, Commander, I forgot you weren't born on
Earth. Well, to start the season off, I'd like to give you a little
gift. It's an old Earth delicacy traditionally associated with the
Christmas season." She whipped the tin out from under one of the
clay-streaked rags it had been weighing down. "It's called
fruitcake."
"Thank you, Captain."
---
(Music: "What Child Is This?")
Chakotay contemplated the glistening fruitcake. Despite what the Captain
had told him, which the computer had confirmed, it didn't seem
possible that this was a food item. Short of using his phaser, he
hadn't found anything that would cut it. It sat on the pale brown
plate, gleaming with touches of red and green and gold, daring him to
violate it. An intoxicating aroma rose from the heavy cake-- literally
intoxicating, since the recipe he had read called for liberal amounts of
rum. When Chakotay's ancestors migrated from Earth to Darvon IV, they
had left all alcoholic spirits behind, breaking with a tragic history of
alcoholism. The Commander didn't even touch synthehol, himself-- too
close to the real thing.
He bent closer to the fruitcake, inhaling the pungent fumes and watching
the highlights change as his vision moved. It was almost enough to make
him light-headed. . . No, it was enough to make him light-headed.
The edges of his room were beginning to dissolve and swirl the way they
did when he entered into deep meditation. Wondering if his animal guide
would join him or if the fruitcake experience would bring him a new guide,
he inhaled deeply and let himself drift off on the fragrance. . .
---
(Music: "Skating")
Chakotay was still recovering from his meditation experience with the
fruitcake when Ensign Harry Kim came to submit his weekly report.
"Are you okay, Commander?" Chakotay was draped on his
couch, looking like the fourth day of a three-day leave.
"I'll. . . be fine, Ensign. Thanks. What can I do for you?"
Looking just a trifle puzzled, Harry explained. "My weekly report is
due today, sir, as usual. You weren't on the bridge, so I-- tracked
you here to your quarters." Harry swallowed. "Sir, why don't
you let me help you to Sickbay?"
Chakotay sat up and promptly fell back, dizzy and somewhat nauseous.
"I missed my bridge shift? Oh, spirits, oh, Kathryn. . . Yes, thank
you, Harry, maybe I had better go see the Doc."
Harry helped the older man to his feet and steadied him with one strong
shoulder. Once they were in the corridor, away from the fumes of
fruitcake, the Commander began to feel a little better.
"Are you coming to the Christmas party, Ensign?"
"Yes, sir!" Harry grinned. "Tom and B'Elanna and
I have great costumes picked out already."
Chakotay smiled. "Then maybe you'd accept a little Christmas
gift from me, as a thank-you for helping me. You can go back to my quarters
and help yourself to the fruitcake. . ."
---
(Music: "O Tannenbaum")
Harry sat on the floor of the holodeck, now programmed as a gym, and
looked at the fruitcake. Absently, he grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat
off his face and neck and chest. His Anglican relatives had celebrated
Christmas in traditional style, and so had Libby, but no one had ever made
fruitcake. Cakes, cookies, fudge, but no fruitcake. The thing had shot off
the table while he was trying to cut it and bounced vigorously off the
wall. Inspired, he'd just had a fabulous workout bouncing it off the
walls of the gym like a squash ball, but it was just too weird. Nothing
that was rectangular and made of fruit and flour should be so resilient.
The holodeck door whooshed open, and Tom Paris came in. Harry beamed at
his lover, also dressed for a workout in shorts and tank-top, as was Harry
himself. He scrambled to his feet and bestowed on Tom a warm and sweaty
hug.
"Mmmm. . ." Tom sniffed Harry appreciatively and squeezed him
tight. "How come you smell so good when you're sweaty?"
"Centuries of martial arts masters in my ancestry," Harry
returned, dragging his lips across Tom's neck. "Ready to work
out?"
"More than ready." Tom grabbed a handful of Harry's butt
and ground their hips together.
"Tom!" Despite his mock outrage, Harry moaned as Tom started
nibbling on his neck. "Don't you want to, um, actually, ohh, work
out?"
Tom nipped his lover's shoulder. "The way we do it, sweetheart,
it is a workout." His attention was distracted by a glint of
red and green from the floor. "Hey, what's that?"
Harry squirmed around, looked down. "Oh, that's a fruitcake
Chakotay gave me."
"Fruitcake? Those things are lethal. You haven't tried to eat it,
have you?"
"Well, I tried to cut it. That's when I discovered it would
bounce. I've just been using it as a ball."
Tom bent over and picked up the fruitcake. It was now somewhat narrower
and more elongated than before, but still in one piece. "A ball, huh?
Looks more like a--"
Harry groaned. "Don't say it, Paris." Tom just grinned.
"Computer, engage privacy lock. Let's see what else we can do
with this fruitcake."
---
(Music: "My Little Drum")
Tom Paris strolled jauntily down the corridor, freshly washed and clad in
his uniform, with the tin of fruitcake under one arm. The doors to
Engineering opened before him, and he was greeted by the sight of his
other lover, Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres, bent over a console with
her snugly-clad rear in the air.
Tom glanced around, saw that things were calm and backs were turned, and
took his chance boldly. He slipped up behind B'Elanna and cupped his
hand over her bottom, fingers nestled between her legs.
B'Elanna smothered a consonantal Klingon obscenity as she registered
the scent of her attacker. Instead of turning and flinging Tom across the
room, she merely glared at him and hissed, "Watch where you're
putting it, flyboy, or you might lose it."
"I love you, too, B'Elanna," Tom said mildly. "Look, I
even brought you a present. A Christmas present." He handed her the
tin. "It's called fruitcake. You can do anything you want with it
except eat it."
B'Elanna popped open the tin and sniffed inquisitively at the
fruitcake, which was now almost cylindrical in shape. She fixed her
fair-haired boy with a suspicious look. "And what have you and Harry
been doing with it?"
Tom grinned. "Tickle him the right way and you might get him to tell
you."
B'Elanna smiled fondly and allowed herself one gentle scrape of nails
over Tom's cheek. "Get out of here, hotshot, and let me fix these
relays."
Tom stole a quick kiss from the corner of her mouth and departed with
speed.
---
(Music: "Greensleeves")
Tuvok was preparing for meditation when his doorchime interrupted. He
carefully controlled his impulse to annoyance and then had to control an
impulse to surprise when he saw it was the Chief Engineer.
"Lieutenant Torres."
She was dressed in Klingon fighting gear and had her batleth slung over
her shoulder. In her free hand, however, was a small rectangular green
tin.
"Merry Christmas, Tuvok," she grinned, holding it out to him.
Tuvok's eyebrow twitched. "I do not celebrate Christmas."
"You're coming to the party, aren't you?"
The Security Officer sighed almost inaudibly. "Mr. Neelix has
prevailed upon me to do so."
"Then you can use this." B'Elanna tossed the tin and caught
it. "I've been hacking at it for over an hour, and it's still
in one piece. It'll take anything you can give it. Might help if
meditation fails."
Intrigued, Tuvok accepted the unexpected gift. "Thank you,
Lieutenant. I will. . . investigate the possibilities."
---
(Music: "The Christmas Song")
Seven of Nine, sometime known as Annika Hansen, was regenerating in her
Borg cubicle when she received a visit from the Chief of Security.
"Tuvok," she acknowledged.
The Vulcan had his hands folded in the sleeves of his rust-red tunic.
"I ave come to invite you to Mr. Neelix's Christmas party."
Seven stepped down out of her cubicle and faced Tuvok with cool curiosity.
"I have been informed of this party. I have no desire to
attend."
"I believe it is important to your successful assimilation into this
crew that you attend. The winter festival of lights is an important one in
many Human cultures, including the Scandinavian culture in which your
parents were raised."
"Will you be attending this party?" Seven challenged.
"I am on my way there at the moment," Tuvok replied. He
unfolded his arms and handed her the tin of fruitcake. "Permit me to
give you this gift of a traditional Earth sweet. It is called fruitcake."
"It is a nutritional item?"
"I believe so."
Seven took the tin and opened it. A few crumbs surrounded the dented
fruitcake. "I will try it." Slender fingers augmented with Borg
prosthetic dug into the dense cake and broke off a bite-sized corner.
"I hope you enjoy it."
---
(Music: "Lucy and Linus")
"Neelix has really outdone himself," Captain Janeway murmured.
With a little help from Paris and the Delaneys, Neelix had decorated the
largest of the holodecks for the Christmas party. Janeway and Chakotay
were standing just inside a room whose almost black wooden beams and
pillars would not have been out of place in an English manor house. To
their left was an enormous fireplace, throwing off little heat for its
size but all the right noises and the right smell, too. Along the right
wall ran a seemingly endless table laden with food and drink. At the
opposite end of the room from the entrance was a massive tree, lavishly
decorated with lights, baubles, garlands of beads and of tinsel, and a
twinkling star at the top which slowly ran through the whole spectrum of
colors.
Leaning on her First Officer's arm, Kathryn Janeway made her entrance.
She was dressed as Mrs. Santa Claus in a flowing red velvet gown trimmed
with white fur at the cuffs and hem. A white apron edged with beautiful
lace covered the front of the gown, and a pair of octagonal spectacles,
perched on the end of her nose so as not to interfere with her vision,
completed the costume. She had done her hair up in the bun she formerly
wore every day and powdered it white like a Baroque gentleman's wig.
Chakotay had acceded to his Captain's request and dressed as a
northern Father Christmas, a shaggy, half-wild figure in woodsy greens
crowned with a wreath of evergreens and stray feathers. On one shoulder
perched a plush raven figure, in deference to his Native heritage. In the
dark green robe and brown boots, he made an impressive figure.
The other crew members had, for the most part, also taken Neelix's
invitation and come in costume. Tuvok was wearing red, at least. The
Delaney twins had come up with fantastic and scanty costumes that seemed
to represent twin snowflakes. Samantha Wildman and her daughter, Naomi,
were two cuddly bears in brown fur and festive red and green scarves. Even
the Doctor was present, dressed all in black with a long coat and a top
hat. As he passed the Captain and the First Officer, he screwed up his
face, twisted his hands together, and sneered, "Christmas!
Humbug!" Janeway burst into gales of laughter.
"Wait till you get a load of our favorite trio," Chakotay
murmured.
Harry, Tom, and B'Elanna were standing by the crystal punch bowl, arm
in arm. B'Elanna was wearing a variation on the Captain's costume
of red velvet trimmed with white fur. While the Captain wore a full-length
gown, however, B'Elanna's flared skirt ended well above the knees,
and her sleeves were fitted rather than full. The brass buttons of her
bodice were rimmed by white fur, and her dark face glowed merrily within a
voluminous red hood, also edged in fur.
Tom was decked out in a green outfit reminiscent of some very old video
Janeway had once seen, about Robin Hood. <He's probably seen it,
too,> she reflected. His open-fronted dark green tunic was almost as
shaggy as Chakotay's robe, its hem coming down in irregular points;
his arms were bare, but pale green tights showed off the long, slender
legs. A jaunty peaked cap of green tipped with a golden bell and green
slippers with absurdly long tips that curled back above Tom's insteps,
likewise tipped with golden bells, identified him as an elf.
It was Harry, however, whose costume was the most daring of the three.
<I wonder how they talked him into it,> the Captain thought
approvingly. He wore snug dark brown trousers and short heavy black boots.
The golden, muscular chest and shoulders were completely, deliciously bare
except for red suspenders. The glossy black hair was disarrayed and
crowned with a surprisingly realistic set of antlers. However, the effect
of realism was somewhat undone by the little red bulb on the end of
Harry's nose, which periodically glowed brightly.
Janeway swept over to the food table with her First Officer in tow.
"Get me some punch, Chakotay," she purred. Smiling, the
Commander went to join the younger officers by the punchbowl. The Captain
surveyed the gleaming dishes of candy, the plates of still-warm cookies,
the frosty pitchers of egg nog and cider, the trays of cold meats
garnished with. . . pink and purple roots. Oh, well, everything still
looked and smelled delicious. Having skipped lunch, she began piling food
unashamedly on her plate.
"Nice costumes," Chakotay observed with a grin. He plunked the
heavy crystalline dipper into the bright red punch.
"You look good yourself, Commander," Tom returned. The little
bells on his costume jingled with his motions. "A version of Father
Christmas?"
Chakotay shrugged. "I suppose so. I considered coming as Raven, who
brings the sun, but the Captain talked me out of it. There's no
solstice on my homeworld, so it doesn't matter." He took a
second crystalline cup for himself.
B'Elanna held out her empty cup. "Would you pour some for me,
too, Chakotay?" Her flirtatious tone made her two lovers glance at
her in mock suspicion and jealousy. Chakotay gave his former Maquis
colleague his warmest smile as he poured frothy punch into the tiny
crystal cup.
Harry sniffed dramatically. "I guess it's over then. She
doesn't want me to pour her punch any more." He turned away,
hanging his head and sniffling loudly. Chakotay started when he noticed
the brown and white deer's tail affixed to Harry's trousers at the
base of his spine.
Tom looped an arm around the younger man. "Now, Harry, you can pour
my punch any time. And remember the fruitcake. . .?"
Tom turned away, and the two men were soon giggling reminiscently.
Chakotay cocked his head at B'Elanna. "The fruitcake I gave to
Harry?"
"You gave it to Harry? I got it from Tom after they-- well, I got it
from Tom and used it for a workout with my batleth. Then I gave it to
Tuvok, thinking if it could stand up to me, it could stand up to
him."
"I got it from the Captain and passed it on to Harry after he. . .
gave me some assistance with a project. I wonder what Tuvok's done
with it."
Tuvok was standing near the tree, sipping a Vulcan herb tea and quietly
enjoying the evergreen fragrance, when Neelix hurried up to him.
"Isn't this a great party, Mr. Vulcan?"
The Talaxian was dressed in a traditional elf costume somewhat similar to
Tom Paris's. Neelix, however, was wearing trousers rather than tights,
and the whole costume was striped red and green and orange and violet, in
shades even more florid than his everyday suits. A string of tiny lights
spiraled around the spiral-striped crown of the hat. Tuvok looked somberly
at the morale officer and tried with great intensity to think of something
positive to say. The melange of colors in Neelix's costume was not
making it any easier. After a moment, he said quietly, "The food and
the decor are most appropriate, and the crew appear to be enjoying
themselves."
Neelix beamed with sheer delight at the Vulcan's praise. "Thank
you, Mr. Tuvok!" The Talaxian wandered off, looking faintly giddy at
the sight of so many people having a good time at his instigation.
Janeway was hanging on Chakotay's arm again, having just downed her
fifth cup of punch. If anyone had told her that Neelix had used genuine
200-proof Talaxian whiskey to spike it, she would have been appalled, but
after five servings, she was well past caring.
"Chakotay, I believe you have mistletoe in your wreath. Are you
familiar with the old Earth custom. . . "
"I feel so self-conscious in this get-up," Harry said, reaching
back to adjust his tail.
"You look edible, Har." Tom gently snapped his lover's
suspender, running the backs of his fingers over Harry's slightly
irritated nipples.
"I know, that's the problem."
"Whaddaya think," Megan Delaney whispered to her sister,
"can we get her away from the two of them long enough to make our
move?"
"I don't know," Jenny whispered back, re-pinning her
twin's tiara. "The two guys can keep each other busy, but what if
Klingons don't do same-sex scenes?"
"Tom, my punch cup is empty." B'Elanna smiled with
imperious charm.
"And what do you want me to fill it with, my little snow queen?"
Tom leered.
"Get Harry over here. I want his tail."
"Bah, humbug," the Doctor said to Ensign Vorik, with evident
relish.
Tom pushed the suspenders off Harry's shoulders and fastened his
mouth greedily on one nipple. Harry groaned.
"Tom, what if someone sees us--"
"This tree is huge," spoken around Harry's nipple. "No
one will see us. Now hold still --I'm warming you up for
B'Elanna."
"But I have to kiss you, Chakotay. You're standing under the
mistletoe. Actually, anyone can kiss you if you're standing under
mistletoe, but I'm not letting anyone else near you."
"Why, Kathryn--"
The doors to the holodeck whooshed open, and everything paused as Seven
of Nine staggered in. Teetering on her high heels, she scanned the room with
strangely bright eyes and then tottered over to Tuvok, who was seated by
the fireplace talking to little Naomi Wildman. The little girl slid off
the Vulcan's lap and shrank away behind her mother; she was still a
little afraid of the "Borg lady," and the fact that Seven was
wound from head to toe in silver tinsel garland didn't help. Seven
plopped herself down, or perhaps merely fell, into Tuvok's lap.
"I ate the fruitcake," she announced, her voice a little less
crisp than usual. A collective gasp of horror went up. Janeway, Chakotay,
Neelix, Tom, Harry, B'Elanna, and the Doctor all converged on the
scene by the fireplace.
"You ate a fruitcake? That fruitcake?" Tom's
voice nearly squeaked.
Seven's face took on an odd expression. The corners of her eyes
crinkled up. Her lips parted, and the corners of her mouth crinkled up,
also, showing her teeth. It took everyone a moment to realize that she
was. . . smiling. "Yes," she said.
The Doctor stepped forward and ran his tricorder over Seven. His eyebrows
went up so far they disappeared under the brim of his hat. "To use a
technical term, young lady, you are sozzled."
"Sozzled?" Janeway interjected. The Doctor turned to the Captain
with an amused expression.
"She has just consumed approximately two pounds of rum-saturated
fruitcake, Captain. Her Borg-dependent metabolism is completely unused to
alcohol. As a result, she is as intoxicated as an infant would be under
the circumstances."
Seven hung woozily off of Tuvok's lap, still smiling, her arms wound
around his neck for support. The Vulcan endured. "Am I costumed
appropriately?" she asked.
---
End
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