"Tom." B'elana whispered through the stale morning air. "Tom, it's time to get up." She sat up in bed and swung her feet over the edge. When they hit the cold floor she shivered. "Tom" She said it louder this time. A groan came from the other edge of the bed.
"Five more minutes…" A muffled voice begged. Tom was still lying face-down on his side of the bed, trying to get as much as he could out of the five minutes he had asked for.
"No, Tom." B'elana said softly but firmly. "In five minutes our shift starts." She bent down to put on her socks and heard another groan from Tom. "Tom, seriously. We've got to get going." B'elana stood and slipped her jumpsuit on, zipping it up to her chest.
Tom was still dreaming of twentieth century televisions and automobiles. "Gah," He groaned again. "Too tired." He turned his head to the side to look at B'elana, who was now brushing through her chin-length hair.
"Tom. I'm not kidding." She paused and studied his face. "Get up. It's time to go." She turned back around and reached for her shoes.
Tom stretched his arms out in front of him, cracking his knuckles. He yawned slowly and sat up. Moments passed as he stared out in front of him, trying to wake up. His clothes landed with a thud next to him on the bed, neatly folded. "Get dressed," B'elanna ordered. "Or I'll have you admitted to sick bay." She teased.
Tom made an effort to open his eyes wider than the slits they were presently. "Why does my head hurt?" He whinged, scratching the back of his head.
"I don't know, but if we don't turn up for our duty then both of our heads are going to hurt," B'elanna said casually. "Hurry up and put your clothes on." She was fully dressed by now, and as she walked over to the replicator to order some coffee, she flicked a light on.
"Oww!" Tom yelled, grabbing his eyes, and falling back into the bed. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" He wailed, barely polite.
B'elanna stared quizzically at Tom, and finally relented, flicking the switch back off. "Computer," She called, her arms crossed now. "One coffee and… Your best hangover treatment." The computer bleeped in response, and some beverages materialized in the replicator.
"I'm not hung-over!" Tom said defensively, covering his ears at the sound of his own voice. "I just have… allergies."
"Allergies to alcohol?" B'elanna asked as she sat next to him on the bed, holding out a mug filled with foul smelling liquid. She smiled at him and he huffed at her. "Do you want me to call the Doc?" She asked sweetly, genuinely concerned.
"No… I just… I don't remember drinking any alcohol." Tom looked up at her as if she knew the answer, which thankfully, she did.
"It was in the ice-cream. Tom, you can't order whiskey ice cream and not expect there to be any alcohol in it." She laughed, and he covered his ears, moaning in pain. "I'll just let the captain know, ok?"
"No!" I can power through… I think." He groaned, rubbing his eyes. He scratched his head again and then deflated into his spot on the bed. "Never mind. Call the captain."
"And the doctor?" B'elanna inquired.
"Just the captain, please." Tom sighed, resigning himself to punishment for both being late and drinking alcohol.
"Fine, but that means you drink this." B'elanna shoved the drink into his hands and left the room.
Meanwhile, Janeway was in her quarters, not quite awake yet.
Ding, the door bleeped at her, telling her that there was a visitor outside.
"Come in…" Janeway groaned, covering her ears at the sound of her own voice.
The doors swished open and Chakotay walked in, walking swiftly through the room. "Kathryn, you're late. Are you ok?" He smiled boyishly and tilted his head, concerned.
"NO." Janeway groaned, immediately covering her ears. "I have the worst headache!" She pulled a pillow from behind her and covered her face with it.
Chakotay laughed. "You're hung-over." He smiled, and asked her if she wanted coffee.
"I'm not hung-over!" A muffled voice replied, as she held her head through the pillow. She sighed and removed the pillow from atop her face. "Chakotay?" She whispered, barely audible.
"Yes, Captain?" He asked, a tiny smile emerging.
"Can I call in sick?" Janeway groaned and scratched her head, trying to open her eyes.
"I don't think so. Having a hangover is barely an illness." He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hands in his lap.
"I'm not hung-over!" Janeway maintained, though holding her ears as though someone had screamed.
"Kathryn," Chakotay said, concerned. "You can't order Whiskey ice cream on an alien planet and not expect there to be any alcohol in it." He put his hand on her shoulder and smiled.
"Is that what that was?" Kathryn half yelled, half whispered. "Tom told me it was sythehol." She blinked and yawned.
"Torres to the Captain," A tinny voice called out of a comm badge that was resting on the bed-side table.
"Janeway here," the Captain responded, trying to sound alert, but wincing at the noise.
"Tom is sick. He's unable to report for duty this morning." B'elanna lied.
"Fine," Janeway said. "Janeway to Tuvok."
"Tuvok here," A weary voice replied.
"You'll be taking Tom's duties today." Janeway ordered, sounding more and more like herself by the second.
"Captain, I regret to inform you that I am unable to report for duty," Tuvok's voice said slowly and gruffly.
"Why not Tuvok?" Janeway wondered, looking at Chakotay as if silently asking him to go check on the Vulcan.
Tuvok's normally toneless voice came through then, and said "It would seem that I have… a hangover."