Fit To Command -- ST: Voyager

No copyright infringement of Paramount's Star Trek: Voyager series is intended; this story is in appreciation of the universe that Star Trek has opened up to the world for the past 30 years.

This story is released under the OpenContent License version 1.0.

Introduction

This story came out of nowhere. Artistic inspiration provided by Savage Garden and Southern Comfort.

The story is rated PG-13, mainly because it doesn't have anything explicit in it.

Diagnosis

"I'm starting to think that I never, ever want to command a Galaxy-class starship," wheezed Janeway, hanging off a Jeffries tube rung. "If I ever had to climb from the lowest deck to the saucer, I'd resign from Starfleet before you could say 'cardiac arrest'." She resumed hyperventilating, the effort in making the speech clearly far too great for her.

Seven was already twenty metres above her Captain before she noticed the distant panting and puffing. Rolling her eyes, she climbed back down to where Janeway was wedged into the ladder rungs.

"Captain, we have only climbed three decks. We are not even a third of the way to the bridge. You must..."

"No must, Seven," Janeway interrupted. "Unless you want me to vomit here and now, you'll let me rest awhile. The bridge isn't going anywhere."

"While I have full confidence in the ability of Voyager's crew to manage the results of an internal power failure," Seven said patiently, "the fact remains that Commander Chakotay is in the middle of an eight hour break between double shifts and is therefore almost certainly dead to the world. The bridge is therefore under the command of either Mr. Kim or Lt. Paris."

Janeway groaned and grasped the rung above her head. "Remind me to bunk in my ready room until this power problem is sorted."

Janeway sat on the edge of the bio-bed and glared at the Doctor. "This had better be quick. I've got a ship to run."

"Ah yes, 'run'," remarked the Doctor, a wry expression on his face. Not for the first time, Janeway wondered how much effort his programmers had gone to in order to maximize his annoying habits. "From what I gather, you'd have trouble maintaining a brisk walk at the moment." He glanced at a PADD, clearly a theatrical gesture. "Seven reports that you were begging for death after climbing five decks in the Jeffries tube."

"Seven is going to have plenty of opportunity for demonstrating her fitness in the warp plasma conduits," snarled Janeway. "I'm the Captain, for goodness' sake. It's not like I have to lift two hundred kilo containers as part of my job. Delegation is a great thing."

Ignoring the interruption, the Doctor pressed on. "All officers on active command are required to maintain a level of fitness appropriate to their jobs." He prodded Janeway's stomach, provoking a yelp as her abdominal muscles entirely failed to demonstrate their presence. "I've seen eighty-year-old Admirals in better shape."

"What are you going to do, relieve me of command?" asked Janeway crabbily. "I'm just as fit as Chakotay or Tuvok. I watch my diet..."

"... as do I, noticing that you consume enough caffeine to raise your pulse by 20 beats per minute," finished the Doctor. "Captain, I can't in good conscience let you go on abusing your body like this. You're not fourteen years old any more. If you tried cave diving now, you'd drown before you got into the cave entrance."

He pulled out a gown and tossed it to her. "Please undress. We're going to find out exactly what sort of shape you are in, and work out how to get you back on form. Unless, of course, you prefer to go back to command now and postpone your exam until Lt. Paris starts his shift here in two hours time."

"Computer, lock Sickbay doors, authorization Janeway Tau Theta." Imagining ten thousand ways of deleting the Doctor's program from Voyager's systems, Janeway shrugged off her top. She noted with dismay the wobble around her shoulders as what remained of her muscles there lay dormant. This was not going to be fun.

Janeway bit down on her lower lip, trying to will her right shoulder muscles to keep the combined weight of her arm and the Doctor's replicated dumb-bell from dropping to the floor. She felt the trembling around her shoulder and elbow that warned her of an imminent collapse. Sweat beaded on her forehead as the effort shook her body -- suddenly her arm spasmed and the weight dropped to the floor. She sank her head onto the soft surface of the bio-bed, caring nothing for what the Doctor thought, glad only to be relieved of the strain.

She panted to dull the edge of the pain, seeing the Doctor come around to the front of the bed with a serious expression on his face.

"Captain, your whole muscular system is completely shot." He tapped some numbers into his PADD. "We need to do something now, or you simply won't be able to command the ship any more."

Janeway groaned, not bothering to raise her head. "Kill me now, solve the problem." The past half hour had been far from the most enjoyable of her life.

The Doctor still had a surprise for her. "You need someone to train you up to a reasonable level of fitness. You can be thankful that you have two Starfleet-qualified physical fitness instructors in your crew."

"Part of his medic training," confirmed the Doctor. "And the other sports enthusiast of your officers. Commander Chakotay."

Janeway's hand shot out towards the Doctor. "Ninety cc's of potassium cyanide. Now."

Treatment

"You are joking," spat Janeway in disbelief. "Do you remember who you're talking to, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, ma'am." Tom Paris was being almost obnoxiously polite. "But if you want to get back in shape, there's no other way of doing it." He closed the door and turned to the room's console. "Program Paris Rho Six."

The Holodeck walls shimmered into the white and chrome of an early 21st Century gymnasium. Nautilus machines, rowing ergs, weights sets and exercise cycles were only some of the machinery which Janeway recognised.

Janeway wheeled around, and Tom stepped back as the force of her glare hit him. He coughed nervously. "Right. Let's get you warmed up first. Follow me through some calisthenics."

Janeway reluctantly peeled off her purple sweat top and took up position facing Tom.

"Loosen up those creaking joints; take your head back, and forward, and back..."

"C'mon, Captain, you didn't get more than two centimetres off the floor that time," protested Tom. "Three more."

"Eight-AAARRRRRRRGHHH-teen!" Janeway jerked her arms straight, then fell back. "Nine-AAAAAARRRRRRGGGH-teen!" She gathered her breath, and all but threw herself upwards. "Twenty!" She rolled onto her back and let her arms and legs go loose.

"Good work!" Tom, give him his due, had been the personification of encouragement over the past twenty minutes. "Another five minutes on the bike and we'll call it a day."

"You, Lieutenant Paris, can call it anything you want," Janeway said, rising to a crouch. "I'm calling it to a halt. And if the Doctor wants my command pips, he's welcome to them." Pushing herself more or less upright, she staggered out of the Holodeck.

"But Captain, the warm-down...." The door closed, cutting off Tom's words. Tom rubbed his hair with a towel, watching the door with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Janeway's first stop was the mess hall. Not caring how she looked to the crew sitting around the tables, she leaned against the wall by the replicator and coughed out her order. "Coffee, black."

"Request denied," chirped the replicator happily. Lacking sight, it could not see the Captain's eyes narrow and her nostrils flare. It could, however, hear the increased stress in her voice. "Coffee, black."

"Request denied," repeated the replicator, unaware of the horrible and painful fate only seconds away. Fortunately it was spared by Neelix.

Upon the mention of her nemesis, Janeway had launched herself at Neelix's neck. The workout with Tom Paris had taken its toll, however, and she had missed entirely, fallen over a low sofa and ended up on the floor.

"No, I'm not all right, Mr. Neelix. I'm in mortal agony, humiliated, and being kept away from the one drink that would make everything at least tolerable."

She got back onto her feet, with more hindrance than help from Neelix, and headed for her quarters.

Cure

"Captain Janeway cannot come to the door, due to being dead," replied the door control unit.

There was a snort of laughter from outside. "Tell her that the resuscitation team is outside."

The door hissed open. Her broad-shouldered Commander walked in, a bottle nestling under his arm.

"You're not hard to track down. There's a trail of sweat from Holodeck Two to the mess hall and then here. Even I, voted 'Tracker Least Likely To Find A Flatulent Buffalo', could follow it." Chakotay picked up a glass from her dresser, opened the bottle and poured his Captain a healthy slug of the orange liquid.

Janeway rolled to her side, accepted the glass and sniffed at it cautiously. Receptors in her brain fired happily, recognising the sweet and currently highly desired scent of sugar. "What is it?"

"An old Earth drink that my boxing instructor used to swear by." Chakotay pulled up a chair.

Janeway took a gulp, and nearly coughed her lungs up as the sharp bubbles bit the back of her throat. "Stars alive, it's like drinking acid!" Smaller sips proved less traumatic, and she sighed as the drink's energy flowed to her aching muscles.

"Tom Paris is going around the ship looking as if he's just murdered his commanding officer," Chakotay said neutrally.

"And he did a damn good job of it." Janeway rubbed at her aching arm. "I'd rather have done three rounds with you in the ring."

"Wrong, Chakotay. It's a really bad, hurting and pointless kind of pain." Janeway finished off the drink and flopped onto her back. "I really don't want to do this exercise thing. I'd rather give up command, I really would."

Chakotay took her arm and started running his hand up and down it. "Tom says that you left him before he had got you warming down. Is that right?"

Janeway groaned in reply. "I couldn't do another push-up, I could barely sit up. What're you doing?"

"Trying to get some blood back to your muscles." Chakotay was now rubbing Janeway's arm more firmly. "All the lactic acids that exercise built up in you are still there; that's what hurts so. You need to wash them out." He paused. "You'd trust Tom to fly Voyager through the corona of a star. Why not trust him to get you back in shape?" He moved around the bed to start on the other arm.

Janeway thought for a moment. "Mmm, that feels good." She hesitated. "Chakotay -- it's hard for me to be the weak one. I'm just not used to it. I don't mind losing to Seven at 'Velocity', but to be the weakest jellyfish on the crew..."

"Onto your front," Chakotay commanded. Janeway obeyed, wincing as Chakotay's hands worked over the jelly in her legs. "It's tough being human, Kathryn. It's probably about time that you found this out." He saw Janeway's shoulders shake as she laughed weakly.

"Maybe calisthenics and weights aren't your thing," Chakotay admitted, grunting with effort. "Some people prefer to run -"

"- some people play team sports, but I guess that's not really your thing either. How about one-on-one sport? You're probably not fit enough to start playing Velocity just yet, but we might be able to find something softer to start with."

"Well," said Chakotay, "you want something that's not too hard on your joints, something you can do easily off-shift, with someone who'll nag you if you try to skip it too often."

Janeway rolled onto her back, sitting up and giving Chakotay a look that he had not seen in a long time. "So boxing's out."

"Really? Now there's a co-incidence." Janeway pulled her Commander towards her. "Let's see what we agree on."

"Thank you, Captain, that's fine." The Doctor completed his PADD entry. "I'm quite happy that you're back to an appropriate level of fitness."

Janeway jumped off the bio-bed. "So I can have coffee again? Consider your answer carefully, Doctor."

"Yes, yes, no problem. But I must warn you that I'll expect you to keep to this level of fitness."

"For my records, Captain, I don't suppose you could tell me your new exercise regime?"

Janeway paused at the door. "I could, Doctor, but my personal trainer would probably be a better person to ask. Get him to drop by Sickbay after his next shift."

As she walked briskly to her ready room, the suggestion of a smirk hung at the corners of Janeway's mouth...

Fit to Command

Introduction

Diagnosis

Treatment

Cure