THE SWARM
Episode 46
Part A

 

Paris: "Helmsman's log stardate 50252.3. While Voyager takes on supplies, Lieutenant Torres and I are investigating some intermittent sensor readings we picked up this morning." The screenshot shows a type-9 shuttlecraft which is crewed by himself and Torres.

Torres: "Cramp."

Torres: "We've been out here almost five hours and we haven't seen any sign of those energy signatures. Isn't it time to admit they were nothing more than galactic background noise?" Paris: "I want to keep looking a while longer, just to be sure." Torres: "Argh!" Paris: "What's wrong?" Torres: "Cramp." She rubs her leg. "I don't know Klingon bodies were meant to sit in a cockpit for five hours at a stretch." Paris: "You have a big dinner date or something?" Torres: "What's that supposed to mean?" Paris: "Well, you've been angling to get back to Voyager for about two hours now. I just thought that maybe there was a reason," adding meaningfully, "like Ensign Bristow." Torres is not amused. "What?" Paris: "All I've noticed is that he's been making any excuse to hang around engineering, around you." Torres: "Freddy Bristow is a child." Paris, teasing her: "Oh really. He looks like a grown-up to me - tall, good-looking, and I hear he plays a mean set of Parrises Squares." Torres: "I played one game with him, and I whipped him." She acknowledges: "Look, he has a crush on me. I can handle it." Curious: "Why are you so interested?" Paris: "Oh, just curious how someone with Klingon blood seems to live the life of a Tabran monk." Torres, firmly, resorting to formality to chide him: "Lieutenant, that is none of your business." Paris: "Well, if you ever have a free evening, I have a holodeck program you might enjoy - sailing on Lake Como." Torres squashes him: "I'd rather take my chances with Freddy Bristow."

Audio computer sounds draw her attention. "Those energy signatures are back." Paris: "We must've crossed into a tachyon field." Suddenly the shuttlecraft lurches, jolted by an impact of some kind. Torres: "What's that?" Paris: "A ship has locked onto our hull." Torres: "Why didn't we detect it?!" Paris: "The tachyon field must've disrupted our sensors."

Suddenly two aliens transport aboard!

The two armed insectoid aliens communicate with each other with unintelligible clicking sounds which the Starfleet universal translator is unable to understand, but they seem to be enquiring of each other about Torres and Paris.

As the senior officer, Paris rises to greet them. "I'm Lieutenant Tom Paris-"

The aliens open fire! He and Torres are thrown back against the console.

She rebounds and ends up in her seat.

The aliens talk to each other again then, job done, they leave.

In the last moments before unconsciousness, Torres manages to set the shuttlecraft on course for Voyager.

In Tom Paris' Chez Sandrine holoprogram, the Doctor is pursuing a new hobby of opera singing. He is accompanied by a holographic diva. excerpt from aria O soave fanciulla

When the diva enters the duet part, the Doctor experiences consternation and annoyance with her performance. He tries to recover and resumes singing.

Eventually the Doctor interrupts with an order to the computer: "Computer, pause playback." To the diva: "Excuse me, but your entrance was early. You're rushing the tempo." The holo-diva laughs scornfully. "I am not rushing. You are lagging behind like a tired donkey!" Doctor: "I assure you I have studied the finest recordings of this opera: Caruso and Galli-Curci, Pavarotti and Freni, Soral and T'Penna of Vulcan." At each set of names she chortles derisively. "The tempo is accurate." Holo-diva: "Galli-Curci, Freni, T'Penna? They are all fallite, they are mere dust balls, they are nothing. Guiseppina Pentangeli," referring to herself, "the greatest soprano lirico of the 22nd century, transcends them all, and conductors take their tempi from me! Capisci?" Doctor: "In this instance, they take it from me. I programmed the orchestral playback." The holo-diva is scathing, displaying her big ego with grand sweeping gestures. "Who allows you to make this choice? You are an amateur. You have no sense of rubato, no ralletando. It's like singing with computer!" Doctor: "Madam, I may be an amateur, but I'm also known as a quick study." She laughs contemptuously. He continues crossly: "And as I am in charge of this program, you will do it my way! Shall we try it again. Computer, start playback." He starts the aria again. But she does not join in. To the computer: "Stop playback." Holo-diva, displaying the magnificence of her temper: "What now?! Non es possibile!" The Doctor is suddenly worried. "I couldn't remember the words." Holo-diva: "In all of my career, I have never forgotten a lyric! This is the difference between amateur and professional!" Doctor: "No need to over-react. I just need to relax." Holo-diva lets out a string of Italian, gesturing: "This is infuriating! I-I want another partner! Subito!" Doctor: "I'm the one who needs another partner. You've got me so upset I can't sing. Computer, delete-"

The comm. signal interrupts him. comms. signal "Janeway to the Doctor. We have a medical emergency. Report to Sickbay."
Doctor, via comms: "Right away, Captain." Contact ends. To the holo-diva: "Adieu, Madam. Next time I'll take my chances with Maria Callas." She laughs scornfully. "Computer, delete the diva."
The holo-diva is in the middle of calling him some choice names, such as "Imbecille, pensa-", as she disappears.