The Smock Hypothesis

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The rumor mill was buzzing. Aboard Voyager, this could hardly be considered unusual. It was usually buzzing about something, usually concerning who was supposedly seeing whom while trying not to be seen together, but Neelix had to admit that this was only the second time that he had heard—and it was a point of pride with Neelix that he heard everything—the entire ship talking about a matter of fashion. It wasn’t surprising. After all, most of the time people were wearing their uniforms, and unless you were Lt. Tuvok citing someone for not polishing their boots there was not much to remark on there. True, when Seven of Nine had come aboard and was divested of her Borg technology it had caused a bit of a stir, but Neelix wasn’t sure if that counted because most of the time it wasn’t so much her clothes that people had been talking about. Nope, the last time the ship had been this talkative about a personal fashion statement had been one year into their voyage when Captain Janeway had literally let her hair down.

But now, Lt. Torres, had traded in her standard uniform top for a tunic. And it seemed like everyone on board wanted to know why. Neelix kept an ear out for the topic over lunch.

"—No one’s worn one of those things since Sam Wildman. You don’t think…"

"I hear the Captain complained about how frequently she ditches her usual jacket and works in her tank-top. This is her way of showing that she’ll wear what she damn well pleases."

"But why did the Captain complain? The uniforms are designed to let you work sleeveless. It’s not like she’s breaking bridge protocol."

Another engineering crewman joined the first two. "I hear it’s a sign. The Maquis are planning to stage a rebellion. When she switches back, it’ll mean they’re ready."

Neelix then had to hurry back to the kitchen to keep that night’s entree from eating the dessert, but he had heard enough. This was worrying. It was all well and good to wonder about the Chief Engineer’s change of uniform, but fermenting rebellion? As morale officer, he looked upon it as his duty to verify such troubling rumors. He resolved himself to go straight to the source.

Then, he thought better of it. Better, to go right beside the source to begin with. So that evening, he went to pay a visit to Tom.

"I’m sorry Neelix, but I can’t help you." The pilot shrugged apologetically. "I hadn’t heard the theory that she’s pregnant. Though I guess now that you mention it, the Doc has been dropping strange hints lately. She’s not though. Or if she is, she hasn’t told me." He grinned, pretending to rub his ear as if in pain. "And something tells me, that if she was going to have a baby, I would have heard about it."

Tom shook his head. "I think she just felt like a change. Figured she’d try out the other style and see if she liked it. She’s always complaining that the sleeves of the regular tops itch."

"So you don’t think there’s anything behind it?" Neelix asked Harry at breakfast the next morning.

"Like what? It’s some secret sign that the Maquis are going to take over the ship?" Harry paused for a gulp of orange juice.

Harry finished swallowing. "What kind of a lame signal is that? She’s an engineer, I think she’d come up with something more subtle. And why haven’t they done anything yet?"

Neelix couldn’t help trying to defend the theory a little. "Maybe the signal is when she switches back."

Harry had finished his food and was getting up to leave. "Well, keep me posted on the conspiracy. I want to make sure I’m on the side that’s still standing."

Neelix watched him leave and couldn’t help feel that this was slightly out of character for the young ensign. He didn’t seem at all the type to stand out of a battle until he saw which side was winning. He took that thought with him, and went to make sure all of the breakfast dishes had been cleared. Something told him that the young ensign did not take the threat of a Maquis rebellion seriously. He thought about asking Commander Chakotay, but then reconsidered. If there was any foundation to the rumor, and the Commander had wanted anything from him, he would have heard about it already. A denial from that quarter would be less than meaningless.

He had worked himself into quite a state by that evening, wondering whether to talk to the Captain, or confront B’Elanna himself. She was there at dinner, eating with Tom and Harry. The three of them were apparently having a very amusing conversation, but he was never able to get away from the counter for long enough to find out what they were talking about. It didn’t seem to be a mutiny, but he had found that sometimes members of Voyager’s crew had very peculiar senses of humor.

Gradually, the mess emptied. Neelix busied himself with making sure everything was stowed properly and ready for breakfast the next morning. It was with not a little surprise that he looked up from one of his cabinets to find the B’Elanna was still in the room. Tom and Harry had both gone and she was sitting by herself, seemingly staring out the window. Neelix was immediately suspicious. B’Elanna had even less patience for sitting around doing nothing than the Captain did.

She turned from the windows and gave him an appraising look. Neelix gulped, but all she said was: "I hear you’ve been wondering about the smock," gesturing to her uniform.

He tried to swallow. Somehow, the lieutenant had an ability to fuse danger to the most simple statement. "The crew has been… speculating."

"Tom and Harry both mentioned you were curious. And some of my staff noticed you eavesdropping at lunch."

"It is?" Neelix wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the rest of this, or run from the room while he still could.

She beckoned him closer, and Neelix leaned down to hear. "This uniform," her voice had dropped nearly to a whisper, "makes me the only person--on the entire ship--with pockets."

Neelix could have sworn he saw her wink, but in a moment she had deftly slid out of her chair and left the room.