B'Elanna's Revenge
After a tiring day, Tom and Harry were relaxing in Sandrines over a
few synthales. The bar was busy but not overcrowded, and they sat at
a table gently winding down together.
"Back in a minute, Tom," said Harry, standing up. "Nature calls." And
he walked over to the swing door with a small male stick figure on it.
Returning after a couple of minutes, he had a puzzled frown on his
face.
"Tom, you programmed this place. How exactly," he paused, wondering
how best to frame the question in public, "did you implement the
rest room facilities?"
Tom shrugged. "Like everything else, based on the original. Nothing
special about them, except they're a bit cleaner."
"Yeah, that always seems a bit wrong. Still, that's B'Elanna for you."
The Chief Engineer had accidentally stumbled through the wrong door
over a year ago, and insisted on making one or two changes to the
program. "But what I meant was, well, what about the waste disposal
arrangements?"
"Standard practice, Harry. The holomatrix separates out any, shall we
say, extraneous matter, and diverts it to a recycler. It can cope with
limited volumes. I thought about installing a backup system for heavy
usage, but it's never come to that." He frowned for a moment. "Come to
think of it, the system seems to cope with at least double my original
design estimates. Of course, that's based on some assumptions it would
have been a bit difficult to test."
Looking round, Harry saw that the bar was clearing. "Hey, we'd better
turn in, it's nearly 2300. Don't want to be late on shift tomorrow."
"I guess not. Goodnight, Sandrine," he called.
"Bon nuit, mon cheri," replied the hologram, blowing him a kiss
flamboyantly.
"Computer, end program," finished Paris, and the bar dissolved into
the stark simplicity of a hologrid as he and Harry left.
Down in engineering, a light flashed on Ensign Vorik's panel, and he
steeled himself for the usual unpleasant sequel. Donning thick gloves,
he walked to Holodeck Two, entered, and crossed over to a small access
panel in the bottom of the far wall. Holding his breath, he lifted out
a large metal container, covered it to reduce the stench, and dragged
it into the middle of the holodeck. From there, the Chief Engineer had
assured him, it was safe to beam out the contents without
destabilising the holomatrix. Finally, he replaced the container,
catching another whiff of the revolting odour as he flipped back the
lid.
He understood that the job had to be done; his Chief Engineer had
explained it to him when she made the modifications to the program,
a few days after his regrettable, and still to him embarrassing,
attempt to bond with her in Pon Farr. He understood, too, that his
strength and emotional control made him, as she had explained, far
better able to perform this duty than any other member of the
engineering staff. But she had sworn it was only temporary; he hoped
most earnestly that she would come up with a permanent solution soon.
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