A group of ten or so people are assembled in a long, brightly lit hall. The floors are wooden and large mirrors completely cover one wall. Seven of Nine stands facing the mirrors.
"This uniform is ill advised," growls Seven. She contemplates her pink leotard and rainbow colored leg warmers in the mirror. Her forehead wrinkles slightly.
"It's standard exercise clothing, Seven." Tom says, backing cautiously out of arms reach. "Start the class."
"Tom," chimes Harry. "Shouldn't we change into exercise clothing too?"
Suddenly fast, bass heavy music starts pounding from the speakers in the corners of the room. The class slaps their hands over their ears. The mirrors vibrate slightly against the wall.
"Commence leg lifts now!" Seven shouts. She begins counting at a furious pace while bouncing up and down and doing Rockette style kicks. "500, 499, 498 . . . "
"Good Lord!" Mutters Harry, "How does she stay in that leotard?"
"449, 448, 447 . . . !" Shrieks Seven.
"I find it illogical that her garment could withstand such forces," Ensign Vorik says, starting to pant. "Perhaps we should conduct an engineering study of it's properties."
"Great idea," gasps Kim. Sweat is flying off his head as he struggles to keep up.
"Ensign Kim, cease speaking immediately!" Seven orders. "Verbal communications decrease the efficiency of the exercise."
"Whoa!" Kim hollers in response, his shiny boots slipping on the slick wooden floor. He mills his arms energetically and lands flat on his back. He offers an "Ooof!" as his eyes roll slowly back into his head.
"Lieutenant Torres, the angle of your leg lifts is unacceptable. Please correct them immediately." Seven commands. "421, 420, 419 . . . !"
"My what? That's it Sister! You and me, right now!" Torres pants. She lunges for Seven only to trip over the still prostrate form of Kim and collapse on top of him.
"Ooof!" Says Kim helpfully.
"Begin jumping jacks now!" Seven directs and starts counting even faster. "500, 499, 498.... "
The class labors to keep up with the bouncing borg, except for Torres who is sucker punching Kim and shouting "I'll teach you to watch where you're going . . . !"
"Tuvok!" Wheezes Tom Paris at jumping jack number 447. "Stop the music!"
Tuvok staggers over to the stereo and stops the music. The class doubles over, hands on knees, fighting for air. Seven, glaring at Paris, shouts. "Continue the exercises! Music is irrelevant!"
The class members groan and resume the jumping jacks. Ensign Ayala weeps openly.
Tuvoc gasps, "Lieutenant Paris, do you believe our selection of Seven of Nine as the aerobics instructor was in error?"
"Well, . . ." Tom pants.
"She was the logical choice given her physical characteristics and the stamina afforded her by the borg nanoprobes"
"No, that's not it." Tom puffs, sinking slowly to his knees. "I was just thinking maybe we should use Jock Rock II for the sound track."
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