Summary: The terrible trials of a captain in quarantine.
Disclaimer: Paramount/CBS own all rights to the Voyager universe and its characters, which I am borrowing without permission or intent to profit, only to amuse.
Notes: Written for the Lock Down Fest 2020, and hey fuck the coronavirus.
Captain’s personal log, stardate 52125.0.
Quarantine, Day 14.
“Tests show an abnormally elevated white blood cell count coupled with viral antibodies, indicating patient’s immune response has been insufficient to repel the disease. Patient remains infected, suspected contagious.”
Or in other words: Be careful what you wish for.
That’s right. I’m still quarantined.
Only problem is, Chakotay is not.
So here I sit, confined to the holodeck (I told the Doctor, who has been extra snippy since someone repaired his program, that if I had to stay locked down in my quarters for one minute longer, someone might be permanently maimed), with no visitors allowed. Not even Chakotay. Even though, having spent the past two weeks in close (very close) personal (very personal) contact with me, you’d think he’s immune to me by now.
Well, immune to the viral strain I’m carrying, anyway. The day he’s immune to me is the day I stop fiddling with my combadge and start practicing that social distancing thing the Doctor has been prissy-facing about.
Lieutenant Paris, or as I like to refer to him, Crewman Third Class Helmboy, designed this holoprogram for me. It’s some kind of whiskey bar, apparently. He said Chakotay gave him the specifications. He said Chakotay described it as “exciting, sultry and a little bit wild, and guaranteed to drive you to drink”, although on reflection, Chakotay might have been describing quarantine with me. So he said.
Then he referred to this seat as my “social distance naughty chair”, reminded me that the Doctor and Tuvok have conspired to remove my command codes so I can’t hack my way out of this prison, I mean holodeck, gave me a lengthy speech about proper hand hygiene, and said - with a ring of satisfaction in his voice that Gollum would covet - “See you in thirty days”.
Fucking, fuckety, fuck.