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Title: Muses Category: VAOH (XYZ!) Summary: The Muses on Parnassus are Not Pleased. . Calliope's dark head hit the back of her chair witha soft little thump, and her fingers slowly uncurled around the black rubber armrests. Her eyelids drifted slowly shut as she savored the rich, full and complete silence around her. Only the rustling noises of her toes digging into the rich carpet: no shreiks and screams and thuds, accompanied by the banging of heavy objects against desks. None of that for a full week and a half, for the other muses had taken a vacation to Miami's South Beach. God help the first tasty-looking man the Triplets ran into after an eternity of 'starvation'.... There was a gentle rap at her door, a little flicker of noise, and she raised herself, grunting slightly with the effort. "Come in..." The door opened, and Urania quitely slipped in, bearing a sheaf of papers and a thin curl of waxy paper that could only be a fax . "Cali...I've got your schedule..." "All the other Muses have left, then?" the elder sister asked, sighing. "Did you get visual confirmation of the Triplets on the plane, Anni?" Urania smiled. "The stewardess informed me that by the time online boarding had ended, they had already terrified the poor male steward witless...Kept talking about 'tasty buns'...I hope they enjoy themselves. Season 4 promises to be a big one." Caliope took the roster from her sister and flicked through the pages, frowning slightly. "Meeting with Rick Berman on state of Kira/Odo relationship...Need ideas for forthcoming episode; angst....Meeting with...Oh god...She *would* choose now to get in contact with us?" "Who?" asked the Muse of Astronomy, peering down the clipboard. "That Jeri woman. The one that always seems to get the most wretched ideas on her own..." "Oh...*Her*...I haven't spoken very much with her--" "Be thankful." mutter Caliope. "But I've heard Thalia call her the *worst* names..." Cali coughed. "And oh...here's something good...I have some interveiwing to do..." "Those are fun--who'sup?" "Evidently, the Voyager writers have hit this block as to who to put B'Elanna with...it's the whole Torres/Somebody job again. How many applicants did we get?" Another shy, mischevious grin flickered across Urania's face. "Dozens and dozens. Before Clio left though, we managed to narrow it down to three...Umm...Hold on..." Peering over peanut-butter smudged glasses, Urania read:" One Chakotay..." "Last name?" "He didn't write one down. Says he doesn't have one. Also, we have one Tom Paris, and Harry Kim." She laid the application sheets. "Everything should be there, except for the deep background searches, which the mainframe's doing right now...Here they are!" Deftly, Urania removed the sheets from the printer's tray. "Here they are. Your first appointment is at 9:00 tomorrow morning." "Excellent...Just enough time for me to brush up on the Interveiwing basics and do some reading..." "You'll be interveiwing Mr. Chakotay, then Paris and finally Mr. Kim" Urania grinned. "I hear from the Triplets that he's a real stud..." "They would think anything vaguely male, breathing and alive to be studly--which includes Neelix's cooking." Anni snickered. "At anyrate, that's it. I'll be in the Computer Center if you need me...The coffee's on the stove, but we don't have any sugar left. Terpsichore ate all of it before she left and bounced off the walls while reciting Phaedra and doing the Soft Shoe Shuffle...." * * * Chakotay folded himself in the chair, arms tucking into place as he calmly crossed his legs. His eyelids were half hooded, covering his dark eyes, and his slim fingers wove themselves into a neat little lattice. The woman...person...across from him eyed him over her blue glasses, sliding the bridge to regard him with blue-grey eyes. Caliope scratched 'Weaves fingers, half hooded eyes' onto her clipboard, making a mental note to leaf through Melpomene's Freudian databooks. A possible paranoia might be lurking. "Please state your name for the record." "My name is Chakotay. I am the first officer of the USS Voyager." "So...Tell me about yourself, please." His smooth brow crinkled; it made the funny inkstain on the side of his forehead wrinkle, and Caliope wrote down "Poor personal hygeine" onto her board. "You have my biography already." "I would like to hear you tell of your life, please." "Allright. Uhh....My name is Chakotay and I am an indigenous member of the tribes that previously inhabited South America. The USS Voyager is my home." Calliope sighed; why did you have to pry informtaion out of some men with a crowbar and with others. . . You prayed for a lightning bolt to reduce them to cindering chars, just to shut them up. "Hobbies? Likes? Dislikes?" "I really don't have any hobbies." "None at all?" Calliope sighed. "I'm afraid, Mr. Chakotay, that we are looking for more than a slam-bam-thank-you ma'm story, or even a well written smut tale, here. This is going to be a tale about love, with graphic sex incidentally involved. We must have a complete, well-rounded (figuratively) charecters, and you're not telling us that you are." "Oh. Well...Uh...Religion plays a big part in my life; I communicate with my Spirit Guide every night--more, if I need guidance, but contrary to popular rumor, I *don't* ask my Guide what color boxers to wear." At the Muse's lifted eyebrows, he added the clarifier: " I ask Bubba about important things..." "Bubba?" Defensively: " Is there anything wrong with that?" "Uh...No, sir, not at all. Continue, please." "And, sometimes, uh, well I play volleyball with B'Elanna and I....get into fights with senior crew members and get kinky massages from ex-lovers. And I love potatoes. I love potato salad." "Thank you, that's more like it." It was hard to keep the tiredness from dripping out into her voice. "Why do you want this job?" This time, the answer was immediate. " I want to get back at that smarmy little turd Paris. He thinks he can have any woman on the ship--thinks he hot stuff, this Flyboy. He needs to be taught a lesson." "Any other reasons?" A pause, then: "B'Elanna's been having a hard time recently, with all this crud going on in her life. She needs and deserves a break, something to help her relax a little, and I believe a romantic interlude would help her." "Any reason why you feel you are specially suited for this job?" "B'Elanna needs maturity. She needs someone to rely on. Someone who she knows well, someone she can count on not to ditch her or hurt her or dump her, and I feel, in all modesty, that I am these things. We go back, and I feel we have a sufficient base of trust and loyalty so that we can have a deep and caring relationship." "Any last comments?" "Uh...Not really. Uh, I have to get back to my job." "I see. You'll know soon if you're the one chosen for the story." The man immediately rose, tapped his comm badge, muttered something into it and was quickly and efficiently transported up. Even as he disappeared into a column of shimmering light, he seemed to be working on a PADD. * * * * Almost amused, Urania watched Calliope's blink rate soar to 60 beats per munte and the senior Muse's cheeks visibly flush as this 'Tom Paris' personage strolled into the room. The words of 'wow' seemed to form across Calliope's lips as the being ever so casually swung into the seat directly opposite her, without a word. Urania thought the temperature near her sister must have heated appreciably, especialy when Mr. Paris shot her a cool, lounge-lizard of a smile. Sighing, the Muse of Astronomy decided that she had better handle this interveiw. The way Caliope was stammering. . . "Mr. Paris," she called, her most school-marm voice. "Mr. Paris!" she called again, more sharply, to snap him out of his smarmy snicker and her sister, hopefully, out of her ridiculous infatuation with him. "Excuse me?" he smiled, turning around with a slow, languid and infuriating grace. "Could you please state your name for the record." "My name," he said, leaning back to face her. "My name is Thomas Eugene Paris." "Rank and station?" "Lieutenant. Voyager." He attempted a lizard-cool sneer at her, and Urania found herself envisioning beating him over the head with her clip-board. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?" "I enjoy shooting pool at Sandrines...Talking to people, hanging out with the Delaneys. And I love beautiful women." "Why do you want this job?" Cool. Calm. Confident. The Three C's of Interveiwing, none of which particularly helped when you wanted to do violent and painful things to the interveiwee. "I want to teach that insufferable prig Chakotay a lesson: he thinks he so great, with his Starfleet regs and his *close* relationship with the captain. He's stiff, thinks that all that martial demeanor makes him irresistable. Only to Janeway, and she was always a little funny in the head. But he needs to be taught a lesson." "Any other?" He shrugged. "B'Elanna's kinda hot too. I guess we could have some fun together." "I see." "Are there any reasons why you feel you are specially suited for this job?" That insouciant, slap-me-off sneer flicked across his lips. "B'Elanna and I have always had an...interesting...relationship, and I fancy that I am...an...entertaining sort of person. I have a great sense of humor and I've been told my...patootie, as Sandra terms it, is very...nice." "Any other statements that you would like to add?" He inhaled, and shifted his weight, settling deeper into the chair. "I don't know how to put this, ladies, but I'm not sure if I am ready for a long term-relationship; you know, those horribly angsty bits full of passionate declarations and sacrifices? I consider myself more of a. . . Free player, if you will." "Flat out player is more like it." snarled Urania, eyeing the drooling Calliope. For crying out loud! As if he hadn't heard her, Tom continued. "I would, however, deeply enjoy a temporary liason with Ms. Torres, and I beleive that such a liason might prove...enjoyable to both parties." "I see. We'll be contacting you in a week if you've received the job." Urania snapped, weaving her fingers together and giving him the cold eye reserved for misbehaving children, noisy dogs and disobedient franchise directors. Like those bastards at Disney, with that stupid Hercules movie. "I'll be see you," he winked. Languidly rising from his armchair, he turned upon his heel and calmly strode out of the room, pausing to help himself to a breathmint. Turning slightly at the door, the Lieutenant turned around, winked gently at the Muses, floored Calliope and shut the door behind him. After dragging the semi-conscious eldest Muse from the floor and reseating her in a position more fitting to her position, Urania handed her sister a large flask of dark coffee and waited for Calli to regain the power of speech. The first words that came out of her mouth, were, quite predictably: "Think he's doing anything Friday night?" ************ Urania *liked* Number Three. She really did. He answered his questions nicely. He paid attention and was not a 'player', but instead, very sweet and smart and had the cutest way of wrinkling up his forehead when he was trying to come up with an answer. Plus, he came on time. When asked to describe himself, he replied with a full and satisfactory "About myself? Uh...I enjoy playing volleyball, although I'm not very good at it, and I also write really bad short stories and poetry, along with composing the background music for Neelix's show since I uh...play the clarinet for the Voyager Classical Music Quartet. Sometimes, I hang out with Tom and, uh, erm, Lanna, and we play pool or cards, but usually we just relax, have a few drinks, snack." "Allright." Urania murmured, scratching down personal notes as the tape recorder whined. "Tell me, why do you want this job with B'Elanna? "Oh geesh." he murmured, flushing up to the tips of his ears. "I dunno." He wrinkled his nose in an adorable manner, not liking the way it came out. "I mean, it's not anything like that. ore than that--she's so brave and wonderful and skilled, and yet, well. . . Sometimes I think that she's terribly lonely and. . . " Another rosy blush. "Uhm. Erm. And she's gorgeous. She's just hot." Urania smiled. "And any reasons that you think you would be particularly suited to this job?" "Oh. Sheesh." He scratched his leg. "Uhm. . . Well, like I said, I uh. . . I play the clarinet, and you know, B'Elanna said she likes music. And if she ever got bored doing . . . that. . . I mean, we could always work on schematics." Calliope elbowed Urania. "Any other statements?" murmured Urania. Shaking his head, Harry turned a delicate shade of fuchisa. "Very well--you'll find out very soon if you've been selected for the job." nodded Urania. Harry did manage to give them a courteous little half bow before bolting, and once the great oaken door slammed shut, Urania turned to her computer and began tapping out the character direction form for the "Well, I guess we know who's filling that position, so to speak. I mean, he'll be great for Lanna--he'll calm her done, tone down some of that out-and-out aggression, make sure the panelling in her room lasts longer than four hours. Plus, she'll give him the guts to speak up in public and stop that blushing, which, though adorable, will be detrimental to his Command career. Intellectual conversation and nice in bed. Lucky, lucky Lanna." Oblivious to all this, Calliope leaned back in her chair and began distractedly lipping her pencil, and then she murmured,"Forget Blondie. What's his phone number?" *end
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