NEW: VOY Morale (G) 1/1 (Buggy Swimming Water challenge) [P, K, T, N]

Morale


"Well, I'm not going in."

Tom Paris' words echoed the feeling of the entire shoreleave party as 
they contemplated the latest manifestation of the hollow generosity of 
Morena V. First it had been the welcome banquet, which had turned out 
as a result of some local custom to be a bring-your-own-lunch party. 
Then there was the offer of unlimited deuterium, which happened to be 
in plentiful supply in the interior of a nearby dwarf star. And now, 
as a gesture of reconciliation over the plastic imitation dilithium 
crystals, they had offered the crew unlimited use of their most prized 
and popular leisure facility, the planetary water sports centre. 
Except that they had neglected to mention that this was the season 
when entire phyla of bizarre insects went there to die.

The lake before them was, on the surface (or perhaps more accurately, 
beneath the surface), a small piece of heaven; smooth, clear water, 
warmed by a yellow sun and surrounded by gently shelving sandy 
beaches and waving palm trees. But every square millimetre of the 
water's surface was covered with the myriad corpses of - bugs was too 
tame a word for this collection of hideous, deformed, eldritch 
entomological monstrosities, sporting an unfeasible multiplicity of 
legs, wings, feelers, mandibles and, in at least one case, poisonous 
spines. And, needless to say, Paris, Kim and the rest of their unhappy 
band had no small reservations about their planned afternoon swim.

"Harry, can we clean this lot up with the transporters somehow?" Tom 
asked with an air of desperation.

"Just get in there and start fishing them out," suggested Torres.

"After you, Maquis," Kim risked life and limb by replying.

Anticipation had turned inevitably to despair by the time Neelix 
arrived. Seeing the sullen faces, and perceiving the uncomfortable 
silence, the Talaxian saw that here was a job for the Morale Officer, 
and pushed his way to the front.

"Now, now, everyone, what could possibly be the matter on such a 
beautiful day?" he began, then turned as Paris wordlessly waved an arm 
towards the surface of the lake.

"Well, I never," continued Neelix with cheerful desperation, "it looks 
like this could do with a cleanup." Then, crouching down, he looked 
closer, and started to display a more genuine animation. "You know, 
there's protein in these, and we're pretty short of any really 
interesting dishes for the messhall. Mr. Kim, Mr. Paris, give me a 
hand with this."

Neelix, carrying a short handled strainer, bustled over to a small 
skiff drawn up on the sand nearby, and Tom, with a look of faint 
disbelief, and Harry, trying to look as though he was really somewhere 
else, helped him drag it to the water's edge. Then Neelix was off, 
scooping up netful after netful of extinct exoskeletal species, and 
muttering things about vitamins and essential minerals.

Behind him, on the bank, Harry Kim made a quick calculation, and was 
appalled at the result.

"Do you realise how much biomass there is in there? Knowing the way 
Neelix strings things out, we could be eating this stuff for three, 
maybe four weeks!"

Those standing near him could almost hear the gears whirring in Tom 
Paris' head. With barely a second's pause, he came back with, "Okay, 
Harry, I bet you a month's replicator rations you can't swim across 
the lake and back."

Harry was about to say, "Through this?", when he realised exactly what 
choices lay before him. Without another word, he was in the water, 
thrashing, kicking and gagging his way through the insectoid mass, as 
the speculation on the bank became more and more intense.

"Two weeks says he doesn't make it." "I'll see your two weeks and 
raise you two." "I'm in for a week." "Double or quits he throws up."

Hearing the buzz of excitement, Neelix chuckled gently to himself. It 
was amazing what the prospect of a good meal did for people's morale.



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